Friday, June 24, 2011

Let me see your war face, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Florida Marlin manager, Jack McKeon is 80, but like every other manager. Except when he goes to the mound to talk to the pitcher, he has to ride out there on his Rascal Scooter.

R.I.P. Peter Falk. His last words were to his nurse; "Sorry to bother you, Maam, just one more thing . . . '

A fired IT guy snuck porn into his boss' PowerPoint presentation. You wouldn't believe what popped up when he was discussing the economy during the Bush era.

And it was absolutely disgusting what picture came up when he talked about the stock IBM.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Happiness is not happiness without a violin-playing goat

After his engagement was off, Hugh Hefner is dating 21-year-old Ana Berglund. Good for Hef, he gets tossed off and then jumps right back up on that whores, uh, horse.

Ana is nothing like Hef's other girls. They were all blonde buxom beauties. She is beautiful buxom blonde.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Closer look

Monday, June 20, 2011

La Jolla Shores Leopard Sharks

Don’t front on a brother, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

In England, a man used a shot gun and blew off part of his middle finger to remove a wart. Good thing he didn’t have hemorrhoids.

The man replacing Osama bin Laden, Aymen al-Zawahri, has been described as unlikeable, petty and irritating. As opposed to that fun-loving crack up, Osama bin Laden.

That’s when you know you need work on your people skills, when your fellow murdering terrorists dislike you.

The man replacing Osama bin Laden, Aymen al-Zawahri, has been described as unlikeable, contentious and irritating. Navy Seal Team Six described him as next.

Former New York Giants wide receiver, David Tyree, famous for catching a football with his head in a Super Bowl, said gay marriage would lead to anarchy. Tyree is considered the leading marriage expert of all people who have caught a football with their head.

The winners of the Republican debate were considered to be Mitt Romney and Michelle Bachman. Is it just me, or do Mitt and Michelle look like the married real estate couple’s ad on the bus stop bench?

The New York Yankees have been accused of stealing signs by the Texas Rangers. Still not as bad as the New York Mets, their owner, Fred Wilpon, not only steals signs, he then sells them to Bernie Madoff.

The person replacing Osama bin Laden, Aymen al-Zawahri, has been described as contentious, unlikeable and pompous. No, wait, I’m sorry, that’s Callista Gingrich, my mistake.

Newt Gingrich’s election staff quit because of Newt’s third wife, Callista Gingrich. They did not paint a pretty image of Callista. They say she spends countless hours and thousands of dollars on her hair. No, wait, I’m sorry, that’s John Edwards.

Facebook lost 6 mil. users in May. Well sure, they’re going to twitter, that’s where all the good congressional penis pictures end up.

Since you asked:

What a day. Surfed at La Jolla Shores over dozens and dozens of leopard sharks. They were right underneath my board as I rode the waves.

Then it was the Artera bar at the Del Mar Marriot for Thai mussels and a crisp white wine. No lie, I felt like a modern day, half-ass Ernest Hemingway:

The clear blue ocean water stung with cold at first, but then was pleasant and cool. He paddled out like a Viking warrior crossing a Fjord to battle. The waves were good. Strong waves. Fun waves. Waves you rode like a chestnut stallion rounding the stretch at Churchill Downs.

For what was sung is true, when you catch a wave you are sitting on top of the world. Actually, standing on top of the world, 'cause only pussies sit on a surfboard, but I digress.

Underneath his board swam a school of beautiful Leopard Sharks, so graceful, so elegant and how so quickly and stealthily they swam away when he fell in the water. Vanishing like ghosts. Only to return on each and every wave. Like ghosts that do return. Yes.

When he was through and pleasantly spent, he strapped his board on top of his car - taking a moment to tap three times on the board for thanks and luck- and then he poured the big jug of cool water over his head. Oh, the water. Oh, the water. Oh, the water. Let run all over me. And it stoned me to my soul.

The barroom windows were bright, but the wood bar was warm and friendly, like the pretty bartender. The mussels were briny, sweet and nourishing, like the ocean from which they came. So was the wine, cool and crisp reviving him like a plunge on a hot day.

It was all so good, the waves, the leopard sharks, the ocean, the French bread dipped into the sweet and sour butter and wine sauce of the briny mussels. And the wine. It almost made him forget about the thing. No, not that thing, the other thing. You know, the thing before the thing. Yes, that thing. It made him forget about it. But not fahhgettaboutit in a douche-y Mike-the Situation way.

Then he napped. No, really, he really napped. This isn’t some annoying metaphor for dying, the guy snoozed like a big hound dog, snoring like a Labrador on his back who happens to be named Wrigley. And trust me, that dog snores like a freaking drunken sailor.

The end.

(Awed applause building to a thunderous crescendo)

Thunderous Crescendo is my new band.