Category: yet another rant
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I Got Your Pledge Right Here
I’m so confused. This Pledge to America unveiled by congressional dorkwads to great fanfare today: It’s just more of the same snake oil congress has been selling us since probably a bit before my time, isn’t it? The gist of it, and correct me if I’ve got it wrong, is: ‘The other guys suck, we Read.
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Nice Pants
There’s just no way to buy pants that doesn’t make it an unpleasant experience, and I can’t figure out why. It drives me crazy because there’s not a lot to figure out. You go to the store, you find the pants, you try on the pants, you buy the pants. There shouldn’t be anything difficult Read.
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nice shorts
I was sitting on the back porch of a cabin on the Chain O’ Lakes with My Darling B on Saturday afternoon, taking in the sunshine and enjoying the good company, when six or seven people came trooping past on their way to the boat dock. The last guy in the line, wearing the most Read.
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Infestation
We have cats. We have cats the same way we have mice, or might have any other vermin infest Our Humble O’Bode. The cats come prowling around our house at night, and I know that because he, she, they or it have been crapping in the planter next to our front stoop. I have quite Read.
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Bargain-basement spies
I haven’t been paying much attention at all to the media frenzy that erupted when ten captured Russian spies almost overshadowed the monumentally shattering decision by Lebron James to leave Cleveland to play foosball, or something, uh, somewhere else. Sorry, it was way too involved and dramatic for me to absorb it all. I’ll try Read.
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Dear Donkey
Dear Democratic National Committee: You’re pissing off the independent voters with your telemarketing script. Two of them, anyway. Mister McChuckletrousers called Our Humble O’Bode on behalf of the Democratic National Committee this afternoon and My Darling B picked up the phone on the second ring instead of screening the call as we normally do. We Read.
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tart
On Father’s Day I get to do whatever the hell I want to do, and what I’ve wanted to do all morning is sit in front of my computer monitor in my underwear reading goofy shit off the interwebs. Here’s the first thing that made me laugh out loud: It’s a Star Wars joke, which, Read.
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douchebags
In yesterday’s issue of The New York Times we met Alex Pemberton and Susan Reboyras, a happy couple who uncomplicated their lives by the simple act of deciding not to pay their mortgage any longer: For Alex Pemberton and Susan Reboyras, foreclosure is becoming a way of life – something they did not want but Read.
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the American way
Now that the nation is committed to Socialism, thanks to the newly-passed health care bill, I thought I’d post just one or two thoughts about the “conversation” going on about health care reform before our totalitarian overlords enslave us all with their mind control rays. It’s a virtual conversation because I can’t actually scream in Read.
This Is Drivel 