Party Time!!!

Hello, everyone, this is your nightly news anchor Tom Brokebackmountainjaw, coming to you live outside the house of one Wyatt, the fastest gunslinger in the blogosphere! Where it looks like a party is going on while he is away on vacation. Let’s listen in with our hidden microphones…..

Hey fmragtops , and CUG, is Wyatt gone yet? He is? Good. All right everybody come on in! Whooo Hoooo Party time!

* Sounds of partying going on*

*ding dong* Hey did somebody order a keg? Cool just set it down over there. Man this is going to be awesome!

Cug said, “Uh hey Sssteve, don’t you think Wyatt would not want us to have this many friends over?”

“Nah, besides what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him! We’ll get it cleaned up before he gets back”

“Oh okay, hey Peaks pass me a Guinness!”

“That’s the spirit Jimmy! HEY! Who brought the goat...? Is that Jill, cool, looks like Doc brought the meal!”

“Hey Tyler, See if you can get this big screen going!”

“What’s that? Nothing but hockey channels?! Oh great! Good thing JT and Von are bringing some live music!”

Hey Fm, I know Wyatt called us The Triumvirate of Evil but did you have to wear the dress?! Man, either shave those legs or go put some pants on!”

“Dooooc! It looks like Jill just left somebody a present on the carpet; I sure hope Wyatt used stainmaster!”

“Hey, who parked their spaceship on Wyatt’s rose bushes?... Oh it’s you Remulak, nice of you to drop by. And what is that nasty smelling drink?.. You know what, never mind! I don’t want to know! And speaking of drinking, I gotta watch Damian, Tyler and Anti Hippie, all they get is fruit punch!”

“Where is Rachel? She said she would be here! Maybe the lawyers are keeping her at work. And where is Fitch? Hey, Fiiiiitch?”

“I’m out here with my jackboots stomping the hippies trying to crash the party!”

“Oh, well as long as you’re having fun”

“What could be more fun than stomping hippies?”

Well, there you have it, while the gunslinger is away, the inmates throw a party! We will break in your regularly scheduled programming if there is any developing news. We take you back to “When Wyatt was a daily-kos contributor”

Vacation Insurance

Yeah, I know: The Triumvirate of Evil want me to butt the hell out already, but I needed a break from packing every piece of clothing in our home. I keep thinking about this damned plane ride - I'm not a good flier - and I keep feeling queasy. The worst part is that I have to act like a man - a role not suited for me - in front of the kids. So, that rules out me running up and down the aisles yelling, "Let me off! Let me off! Let me off!"

I am a chronic worrier, but I was also a Boy Scout, so I want to be prepared for a midair blimp attack. Thus, I want to make sure my assets are covered. Thus, I give to you . . .

Wyatt's Top Ten Last Will And Testament Provisions

10. Fmragtops must write a eulogy on his blog - just to get him posting again.
9. I will donate my brain to science . . . for lab rat food.
8. The CUG will hunt down and impale those responsible for my demise.
7. Lipo will be performed so I leave a better-looking corpse.
6. Fitch will stop his hippie ways, post haste!
5. Dave at Garfield Ridge will compare me to Neil Diamond.
4. CBS will bring back Robbery Homicide Division.
3. Vinnie will amend my score on the 17th to read a 2.
2. The autopsy results revealing that I am a Cylon will be sealed.

And the number one Last Will and Testament provision is . . .

1. Uber and Pandy will attend the funeral . . . in cheerleader uniforms.

Stupid Questions

Am I first? Well then, kneel before Zod!

Anyhoo, I figger since Wyatt is off vacationing, I'd bring you your fix of COPS for the day. It seems that some of the best police stories are those involving stupid people. I guess I'll give you the dumbest question that I was ever asked.

Early on, in my law enforcement career, I was dispatched to a domestic disturbance. So my back up unit and I responded out to freaky deaky redneck land for the disturbance. Upon our arrival, we spoke with the complainant. I don't remember her name, so we'll just call her Betty Sue Bubba.

I ask Betty Sue what happened. She proceeds to tell me about how she didn't wash the dishes, and her husband, I don't remember his name so we'll call him Billy Bob Bubba, kicked her ass. She had some obvious physical injuries. She had a red mark on her eye that would most likely become a black eye, and red finger marks around her neck.

I then go speak with Billy Bob. I lay down the miranda thing on him. (I'm sure you are all familiar with Miranda rights, right? Only criminals claim to not what their rights per Miranda are.) I ask this no-toothed, wife beater what happened. He proceeds to tell me that Betty Sue didn't wash the dishes, so he whoopped her ass. Great, I arrest the toothless wonder.

I put him in the back of my marked patrol unit. I proceed to bring Billy Bob to jail. On the way to jail, we're all small talking and what not. During the course of the conversation, this 'tard decides to open his mouth and remove all doubt. He asks, "What am I being arrested for?"

I tell him he's being charged with Simple Battery, Domestic Violence. This genius then asks me the dumbest question I have ever heard. Get ready for it. He asks, "How can you arrest me for domestic violence in my own house?"

I just said, "Dude, if I have to explain THAT to you, there's no point in continuing this conversation."

Well, I hope I didn't disappoint. Y'all have a lovely day.

Tin Cop

So, yesterday afternoon I went golfing with Badger, Fish, and Vinnie at Middletown Country Club. It was a hot one in Bucks County yesterday, with temperatures in the 90's and humidity that would friz even the most well-maintained coif. Thankfully, we are all highly conditioned athletes, and Vinnie brought a Thermos full of Guinness!

The round started off as usual, with me gunning for the course record. My scores through the first three holes were 8, 8, and 6. Swell. Thanks to a few penalty strokes on Holes Four and Five, I shot an 11 and a 10 respectively. Crap.

Then, for some reason, I caught fire. On the next six holes I shot a 5, 6, 3 (Par), 6, 3 (Par), and 4 (Par). I had a 70 with seven holes to go. I thought, "If I could keep this up . . . " Unfortunately, reality soon set in. After slogging my way through the back nine with a 6, 7, 5, 8, and an 8, I came to the 17th hole.

The 17th is a 246-yard par four over water. The pond is approximately 100 yards from the tee, so any halfway decent shot will not go for a swim. I pulled out my five wood, teed up, and swung. The shot went out on a high arc, with little distance. Somewhere from behind, Badger was giggling and saying, "Water." The ball fell down and into the briny deep. Damnit!

I drove in front of the pond with Vinnie, took out a ball and my five iron. I dropped from behind the pond into some fairly thick rough. I lined up the shot, swung, and splash! The ball went maybe ten feet and dropped into the pond . . . again. Now, I'm looking at my fifth shot, and I'm about 146 yards from the pin. I drop again, and line up with my five iron. Vinnie, like Cheech Marin in Tin Cup, is begging for me to use a different club. I look at him, and say, "Nah, I can make this." I line up, take a swing, and splash! Wet again.

By now, Fish and Badger are doubled over in laughter in their cart. Vinnie is shaking his head. I am pissed. I tell Vinnie, "Gimme another ball." Vinnie says, "Dude, just drop on the other side of the pond." I shoot back, "No! I can make this!" At this point, I just want to prove that I can get it over the pond. I keep the five iron, take a swing, and splash!

Now, Badger, Fish, and Vinnie are wetting themselves with laughter. Unfortunately for my game, I am also laughing. I take Vinnie's advice and drop on the other side of the pond - primarily because I am running out of golf balls. After my drop, I am hitting nine. The rest of the hole is a blur, but I ended up with a 13. A THIRTEEN! Vinnie said that he would just write down a ten, but I warned him not to. Hell, I earned that thirteen!

I finished the round of death with an 8 on the 18th, earning me a total score of 124. The worst round I have had in a decade.

Eh, it's better than being at work, I suppose.

Gimme another damned ball, Vinnie!

I'm Not Dead Yet!

Although the lack of posts yesterday - although I did post early Saturday morning - may have led you to that conclusion. Yesterday was a busy morning, and Badger, Fish, Vinnie and I went golfing in the afternoon, which I will post about soon.

Today will most likely be my last day of posting until Tuesday, August 8th, but please don't stop visiting: Ssssteve, Fmragtops, and The CUG will be minding the store.

In the interim, please accept my sincerest apologies:

Jill Wagner. Co-star of Spike TV's Blade: The Series.

Why Did I Become A Police Officer?

To quote Neo from The Matrix, “Guns. Lots of guns.”

Actually, this was a question posed by Little Miss Chatterbox in my last Q&A. And, since the Q&A is usually an excuse for me to dole out the funny – although that rarely happens - I never answered her serious question seriously. Seriously!

The year was 1985. Skinny ties and spiked hair slathered in mousse were all the rage. An impressionable young man was attending Archbishop Ryan High School, and looking for direction. While walking home from a school dance – after seeing home then-girlfriend Tara Durkin – my friend Ray and I crossed the Liberty Bell Youth Organization baseball fields. It was about midnight. As we're walking, two White Trash Specials come up on us and ask us for money. Being teenagers, we had none.

Wrong answer.

The first toad grabbed my arm, twisted it until it couldn't go any further, and pushed it as high as my shoulder would let him. At the time, I was hoping he would just break the arm because that had to be less painful than this. The second toad wrestled Ray to the ground, and was sitting on him. My first thought was, "Calgon, take me away!"

My second thought was, "God, I hope that's sweat running down my leg."

The toads kept the pressure on as they demanded money. They searched our pockets, and when they found nothing but lint, the second toad kicked Ray in the back as the first toad punched me several times in the face. The worst part of the ordeal was that the toads weren't much older than we were! They thugs ran from the scene, and Ray and I limped home. To this day, I pray they get arrested in my division!

As we were walking, the topic of careers came up. I told Ray that my mind was made up on that field. It also helped that Miami Vice was all the rage, and detectives seemed so cool. At the time, everyone in my circle of friends wanted to either be a cop or a fighter pilot.

I took a Business Law class in my senior year, and when it came time to pick a college, I chose one (Saint Joseph's University) that had a decent Criminal Justice program. I was one of the few freshmen who knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Four years later, I was out in the job market, only to find out that the economy sucked - thank you Presidents Bush and Clinton! I took every law enforcement test available: ATF (I scored an 88 on a test that had trigonometry!), PA State Police, Federal Prisons, and the like. By 1992, I hadn't had one call, so I decided to take the Philly test. I scored a 97, and was ranked #640 on the list.

Two years later, I was in the Academy.

Thank you Ricardo and Sonny!

People I Hate

Pennsylvania Democrats

Democrats in general have been off their proverbial rockers lately. Hell, look at the Joe Lieberman situation – moderates have no place in the Party anymore. But the Dems in my home state are taking liberal lunacy to the next level. This week, the PA House voted on a Democrat measure that would – get this – call for the disarming of civilians during a Katrina-like emergency! In the Democrats’ plan, authorities would go house to house and confiscate citizens’ firearms. I don’t know about you, but the time I absolutely want a firearm is during a Katrina-like emergency! Thankfully, the bill was defeated yesterday.

Ignorant, Stupid Cops (There are a few in every district)

So, I get a call from a 35th District officer today who tells me that there was a stabbing on 3rd Street. He gives me the details and the pertinent victim information, and I ask, “Is there a scene?” The officer gives me a big, arrogant answer of “I just told you that!” Unfortunately, the location of the scene is not a DESCRIPTION of the scene. When I informed the officer of the difference, he said, “Oh. It’s just a blood smear. Do you want us to secure the scene?” Now that this guy has pissed me of, I reply, "Yes. Hold it, and we'll send a detective out . . . eventually." About fifteen minutes later, I gave the job to the assigned detective, as the arrogant cop was baking in the afternoon sun. Heh. Note to arrogant, know-it-all cops: you will need detectives a lot sooner than we will need you.

The Wayans Brothers (All of them)

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Keenan Ivory Wayans was the genius behind such gems as "In Living Color" and "I'm Gonna Get You Sucka." Unfortunately, he also opened the doors for his disgustingly untalented brothers Marlon and Shawn. Just when you thought "White Chicks" was the worst movie ever, "Little Man" comes along. I mean, have you seen the commercials for this garbage? Cripes, I could have pooped out a better script! Someone please sterilize these two before they produce terribly unfunny spawn?

Kneel Before The Guest Bloggers!

The Logo of The Triumvirate of Evil.

Sunday will probably be my last day blogging before vacation. Since I have such a high regard for my loyal readership, I will not abandon SYLG. Instead, I have summoned the Triumvirate of Evil to take over in my stead. The CUG, Fmragtops, and Ssssteve will be behind the golden SYLG microphone until August 8th. I am confident they will uphold the very low standards that this blog has tried to maintain.

Please give them the same courtesy you give me. (And by that, I mean call them Nazis and close-minded.)

In Synch: With His Life Partner

Forget Israel vs. Lebanon. There's a bigger story in town: Lance Bass has come out of the closet! Sarcastic bloggers such as me were giddy at the prospect of terrific material like this:

Top Ten Repercussions of Lance Bass' Outing

10. Tyler D has to tear down all of his posters.
9. Israel has pulled out of Lebanon. Heh, "pulled out."
8. Rachel is now looking elsewhere for a husband.
7. Bartenders now look wary when someone says, "I'll have a Bass."
6. The Moxargon Group has begun their invasion.
5. As a precaution, Justin Timberlake is now bedding every woman he sees.
4. Fmragtops still isn't blogging.
3. Dave at Garfield Ridge has stopped returning Powers Boothe's phone calls.
2. Vinnie Antonelli has a new golfing partner.

And the number onrepercussionon of Lance Bass' outing is . . .

1. Simon Cowell got a bikini wax.

Obviously NOT Tree-Huggin' Hippies

My sons enjoying the Garden Railway display.

Frak a trial. These people should be caught, hung, and then shot.

That pretty much summed up my feelings after the division received a report of a vandalism at The Morris Arboretum last night. The Arboretum is in the swanky Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia - one of the few places left where you don't have to dodge bullets a la Neo - and in addition to the trees and sculpted bushes, includes a really neat-o outdoor electric train display. The family went there last summer - primarily so the kids could watch the trains - and we all had a terrific time.

And this is why I am so pissed off.

According to the Director, at least three people - my guess would be punk teenagers - drove three Club Carts around the property, knocking down a sheep sculpture, seriously damaging three magnolia trees, and wrecking the displays and bridge to the Garden Railway.

Total damage value: $20,000.

Total non-monetary damage: Two distraught children who happen to love trains.

Please, Jesus, let me find the bastards that did this.

Could've Knocked Me Down With A Feather

Gay? Really?? Him???

NEW YORK - Lance Bass, band member of 'N Sync, says he's gay and in a "very stable" relationship with a reality show star. Bass, who formed 'N Sync with Justin Timberlake, JC Chasez, Joey Fatone, and Chris Kirkpatrick tells People magazine that he didn't earlier disclose his sexuality because he didn't want to affect the group's popularity.

In related stories, water is wet, Helen Thomas is not pretty, and SYLG is very sarcastic.

The singer says he's in a "very stable" relationship with 32-year-old actor Reichen Lehmkuhl, winner of season four of CBS' "Amazing Race."

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Help A Sista Out!

Upstanding citizen and Friend of SYLG Little Miss Chatterbox is a finalist for Top Political Blog at The Blogs of Summer Awards. Voting ends tomorrow, and she could use some help from her friends.

That's us.

So, be a pal, and stop by here to vote for her. And remember, a vote for LMC is a vote for puppies and rainbows!

(Actually, considering my readership, a vote for LMC is a vote for more pictures of a scantily clad Keira Knightley!)

Can The Death Star Be Far Behind?

I'm loving this story out of Reuters:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The U.S. military hopes to complete work this fall on a plan mapping out how regional commanders will be able to use the fledgling U.S. missile defense system, a top general said on Tuesday.

The United States' first target will be the Alderaan system.

Dodgen hailed a recent successful test of a missile-shield component built by Lockheed Martin Corp. to shoot down a ballistic missile in the last minute or so of its flight.

So, we can shoot down a North Korean bird on the launch pad? Heh.

The so-called Terminal High Altitude Area Defense weapon system, or THAAD, "exceeded its objectives" in the long-planned test at White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico, Lockheed said in a statement earlier this month.

I wonder how much it will cost to mount one on my roof? Let's see those bastards blare their rap music now!

Kerry Is So Very . . .

Since John “Mr. Ed” Kerry is hell bent on taking credit for imaginary events, SYLG wondered what else would not have happened if Kerry was President. Heh.

Top Ten Other Things President Kerry Would Have Prevented

10. “Emily’s Reasons Why Not” would still be on the air.
9. Every illegal alien would go back to Mexico after Kerry says, “Por favor.”
8. Fitch would never get his own blog.
7. Red Buttons would still be alive.
6. Jack Bauer would be in prison, not violating people’s rights.
5. Britney Spears and K-Fed would not have reproduced.
4. Philadelphia would not have 222 homicides so far this year.
3. Barry Bonds would never have (allegedly) used steroids.
2. An American would never win the Tour de France.

And the number one thing President Kerry would have prevented is . . .

1. Taylor Hicks would not have won American Idol.

Straight From The Horse's Mouth

Willlll-burrrrr!

Will someone please put John "Horse-faced Jackass" Kerry out to pasture?

Kerry once again reverted to his kindergarten years while in Detroit - The Jewel of the Midwest - on Sunday. Kerry was in town (as was his Kevlar vest, I assume) to stump for Michigan governor Jennifer Granholm. In an act that my five-year old has outgrown, Kerry threw a "Nyah, nyah" at President Bush with this little wisdom nugget:

"If I was president, this wouldn't have happened," said Kerry during a noon stop at Honest John's bar and grill in Detroit's Cass Corridor. (Actually, it would be "If I were president . . . " Dope!)

Swell. And if frogs had wings they wouldn't bump their asses when they hop. What's your point? Hell, that's like saying if I were a U.S. Senator from Massachusetts, the Big Dig would have never collapsed!

While we're at it, if I were a U.S. Senator from Massachusetts, the Boston Bruins would have won the Stanley Cup!!

If I were a U.S. Senator from Massachusetts, Mary Jo Kopechne would still be alive!!!

Luckily, this country has a system in place where idiots like John Kerry will never be elected President. God Bless America.

Deviled Hamlin

Fed Ex: When you absolutely, positively have to get into Victory Lane.

The yellow stripe on Denny Hamlin’s rear bumper means that he is a rookie, but anyone who saw yesterday’s Pennsylvania 500 wouldn’t believe it. Hamlin’s #11 Fed Ex car led 141 of 200 laps enroute to his second win and a season sweep at the Pocono Raceway.

Of course, yesterday’s event was not without its drama: and most of it involved jackass extraordinaire Tony Stewart. Early in the race, Stewart’s car was bumped by the #07 Jack Daniel’s car of Clint Bowyer as he slid up the track. According to the replays, the bump was seemingly unintentional, but in Stewart’s everyone’s-out-to-get-me world, Bowyer hit him on purpose. Being a class guy, Stewart then turned into the #07, spinning him and Carl Edwards - and basically eliminated the two from the championship race. Nice.

"If it weren't for the respect of the sport and the people watching and his team, he'd be out there bleeding right now,'' fumed Edwards, who was also penalized one lap for his retaliatory spin of Stewart.

Thankfully, NASCAR penalized Stewart one lap for rough driving, but, typically, Stewart thought everyone else was to blame. After the race he blasted Bowyer, Edwards, and the rookie drivers that “drive too aggressively too soon in the race.” Mister Pot, meet Mister Kettle. As if that weren’t galling enough, he then stated that the late Dale Earnhardt would have set these drivers straight.

Tony, Tony, Tony. Dale Earnhardt hated your guts. He even said as much when Stewart was a wiseass punk rookie on the circuit. Don’t take his name in vain to make your point, you jackass!

Back In Red

After inexplicably missing the cut at the U.S. Open, Tiger Woods went across the pond, spanked his competition, and won his second consecutive British Open. Rumor has it that he will use this Claret Jug to store his assorted nuts, bolts, and screws.

Pretty Boy Floyd

Pennsylvania's own Floyd Landis won the Tour de France today, the eighth straight time an American has won the title. I wonder if the French are celebrating on Rue Mumia abu Jamal? Asshats.

Sela The Deal

So, I'm watching parts of The Fugitive last night on TNT, and they show the flashbacks of Sela Ward . . . Oh, who am I kidding, I just wanted an excuse to post her picture here.

John Street To Boy Scouts: "Drop Dead!"

Break out the duct tape. Philadelphia mayor John Street is up for the Ray Nagin Award again:

"Mayor Street will evict the Boy Scout's Cradle of Liberty Council from its city-owned headquarters, or make the organization pay fair-market rent, unless it stops discriminating against gays."

The Scouts have been ensconced in their Center City HQ rent free - a result of a City Council decree - since 1928. Unfortunately for them, they are sitting on prime real estate that Street would like to bulldoze in favor of luxury condos. As if anyone in their right mind would willfully live in Philadelphia for a cool million dollars!

Jeff Jubelirer, the Cradle of Liberty Council spokesman gave The Inquirer the quote of the week:

"With an epidemic of gun violence taking the lives of Philadelphia's children every day, it is ironic the administration chose this time to destroy programming that services 40,000 children in this city."

When I last checked the city has already had 219 homicides this year. We're on a pace break the 400 mark. Thankfully, our jackass mayor has his priorities in order.

(H/T: The Philadelphia Inquirer)

People Kyle Likes

"Now, I am the master."

After an anger-filled week down at court, I was going to post a People I Like, when it occurred to me that my five-year old son Kyle doesn't get enough airtime here. Thus, Kyle presents to you, People Kyle Likes - ghost-written by Dad.

The Empire

Is there anyone out there that actually likes the Rebel Alliance? Like my friends in preschool always say, the first lesson when watching Star Wars is that Darth Vader is cool. And if Darth Vader is cool, it stands to reason that Stormtroopers, Boba (and Jango) Fett, and Tusken Raiders - although not technically members of the empire - are cool. Dad keeps telling me that Han Solo is great, but I don't see it.

Jet Fighters

Love 'em! When we went to the air show this year, I was in five-year old heaven. After conning Dad into buying me a few die cast fighter planes, we ate soft pretzels while watching the Thunderbirds. I never held my ears so long at one time. It was great!

Kyle Busch

I don't like Jeff Gordon. That's Dad's driver. Me? I like Kyle Busch and Jimmie Johnson. Both drive blue cars - and blue is cool - and both are associated with Lowe's Home Improvement Warehouse. Have you even been there? They have shopping carts shaped like Jimmie Johnson's car! Sweet!

Duck Dodgers

The Boomerang Network's reruns of the Daffy Duck series is everything Mom and Dad told me it would be. And although Daffy is funny, Porky Pig and Marvin the Martian are even funnier. It's the only show I watch during my afternoon snack.

Hey, that reminds me, it's almost dinnertime. See ya!

For The "Prison Break" Fans

"T-Bag" did an early guest appearance on Star Trek: The Next Generation as the arranged marriage to Counselor Troi. I wonder if he referred to her as "Pretty," and made her hold the inner lining of his pants pocket?

Damn, even in that picture, he's pretty creepy.

(Hat Tip: Bill)

Who Wants To Be A Guest Blogger?

In less than two weeks, your blog host will be on his way to fabulous sunny Arizona. As a result, daily blog posts will take a back seat to swimming, barbecuing, and fighting off tarantulas and scorpions. I know what you’re thinking: Wyatt, whatever will we do for entertainment?

Why the hell are you asking me?

Actually, I worry that after a week without SYLG, you all will find somewhere else to waste your time. Thus, I am looking for folks to become guest bloggers during my absence. I know what you’re thinking: Wyatt, how does one become an SYLG guest blogger?

Why the hell are you asking me?

Sorry. Here's how to enter. Send a self-addressed stamped envelope . . . What's that? No one does that anymore. Damn. Okay, for you bloggers, simply create a post about why you should be the guest blogger at SYLG and send me the link via e-mail (or comment). For non-bloggers (you are eligible, too), send me an e-mail stating why you should be chosen. This is a terrific opportunity to have carte blanche (more or less) with one of the top one million blogs in the world!

I'll be away from the blog from July 31 through August 8th. Send me your entries now!

Gavel Update!

Good news, everyone! (And by "everyone," I mean criminals.) The jury in the aforementioned aggravated assault case came in with a verdict this afternoon:

NOT GUILTY ON ALL COUNTS!

So, by that reasoning, in Philadelphia a person can:

1. Punch, kick, and beat a man half to death, breaking his nose and separating his shoulder.

2. Admit after Miranda that you committed these crimes, and sign a confession.

3. Admit in open court - in front of a jury - that you committed these crimes.

. . . and still be found not guilty.

There is not a person on this planet that can convince me that the judge tainted my testimony when he berated me in front of the sitting jury. Not one. Disgusting.

My New Hero

White House Press Secretary and really fun guy Tony Snow is the greatest hero in American history. Why? Well, because he recently verbally bitch-slapped Helen Thomas . . . again.

Thomas (The Muppet) was ranting and raving that the U.S. could have and should have prevented the Israeli retaliations against Hezbollah in Lebanon. You remember Hezbollah: they were the fine, upstanding men responsible for the murder of over 200 U.S. Marines in their Beirut barracks in 1983. Anyway, Thomas was (once again) ripping the Bush Administration for not keeping the proverbial leash on the Jooooooooooos - the muppet is of partial Lebanese descent - while sticking up for terrorists. When the dust in a dress finally shut her word hole long enough for Snow to get a word in, he commented, "Thank you for the Hezbollah view."

Brilliant!

Gavel Rouser

"I'm this century's Dennis the Menace." - Bart Simpson, circa 1992

I am a troublemaker. I always have been a troublemaker, and I probably always will be a troublemaker. So, when someone gives me grief over some intended mischief, I try and laugh it off. However, when I get lambasted over something beyond my control, my Irish (and Slovak) gets up.

Today was one of those days.

One of my cases, an aggravated assault, was set for a jury trial today. The defendant's attorney declined a plea bargain - six months reporting probation - even though I had a signed confession from her client. The jury was going to be picked in the morning while I was working, and I was placed in "on call" status - as policy dictates. If and when the trial began, the courtroom would give the division a call, and I would come down.

The reason detectives are put on call during daywork is a matter of manpower. If every detective was present for every case, nothing would get done. As an example, we had six detectives working today, and of the six, five of them had court appearances.

Anyway, my jury was picked, and the ADA called at 10:45am. He wanted to know how long it would take me to get there. I wanted to use Mr. Wolf's line:

"It's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten."

When I arrived, the DA was annoyed, even though he was well aware of the on call policy. We stepped into the courtroom, and the judge, enraged, ordered me into his chambers.

"I need an adult! I need an adult!"

What followed was a ten-minute, profanity-laced tirade. The judge threatened to hold me in contempt of court for being late, and when I replied, "That is your decision," he was not amused. I calmly explained the on call policy decreed by the police commissioner, and he couldn't care less. I didn't help matters by stating, "Respectively, if you or your family needed a detective, and there weren't any available, would you be upset?"

The judge then called my captain.

Although the captain also refrained the commissioner's policy, it didn't deter this judge from yelling at him as well. He hung up, and told me to get out of his office. I did, and immediately went on the stand for my testimony - since I am sure that this guy would be fair and unbiased towards it - and after a few minutes, I was excused. Not content to rip me and my commanding officer, the judge threw a few snide comments my way - on the record, and in front of the jury - as I left the room.

The day ended with the jury still in deliberations, and while I was waiting for the elevator, the judge came out with his assistant. Ever the a-hole, he said, "Everyone needs to obey the laws of the court, even police officers. I expect you will be here at 9am tomorrow." I gave the "judge" a dirty look and said, "Uh-huh." Then, turning to the court clerk, I asked what time the high and mighty judge began court this morning - it was scheduled for 9am.

His reply? 10:10am.

Avast Ye Mateys!

Steve The Pirate would be proud . . . I think.

In a feat unparalleled since my swinging bachelor days, I saw my third feature film in two weeks. My friend Bill and I saw Superman Returns on July 3, the wife and I took the kids to see Cars last week, and last night I got to see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Mmm . . . Keira Knightley! (Drool.)

Normally, I would go into the usual movie review here, but since this film has made about (cue Dr. Evil voice) 100 billion dollars in its opening weekend, I'll assume you all saw it. Long story short: I thought it was fantastic. So much so that when I see the next movie reviewer who said, "It was just a commercial for Pirates 3," I'll punch them in the back of the head. Yes, the film was a cliffhanger. Yes, the film set up the third installment of the Pirates trilogy. Yes, I am repeating the same words over and over. And, no, I don't care.

Look, The Empire Strikes Back ended on the same kind of note. And, yes, it could be argued that Empire was a commercial for The Return of the Jedi. But guess what? Empire is widely considered to be the best (far and away) of the six Star Wars films.

So, go ahead and use that argument. I'll probably see Dead Man's Chest again.

President Palmer Is Not Dead!

A Blogs4Bauer Conspiracy Theory

The crack staff at B4B has uncovered a conspiracy of epic proportions: President David Palmer is not dead!

Immediately after the alleged assassination, Palmer's body was flown to Cleveland, Ohio for medical treatment. The President was wearing a ballistic vest, but due to the rifle rounds used by the conspirators (including President Charles Logan), Palmer suffered a severe gunshot wound to the upper chest. Palmer was admitted into the ICU of the undisclosed hospital, and was given a new identity - that of Pedro Cerrano, a professional baseball player from Cuba.

Palmer adopted his new identity with vigor during his recuperation, and even learned the black arts of voodoo. His new idol, Jobu, by his side at all times, Pedro Cerrano made a complete recovery. With many of the members of the conspiracy still at large, Cerrano signed a one-year contract with the hapless Cleveland Indians under his assumed name. Ever the athlete, Palmer, er, Cerrano, won the starting position in left field, and was on his way to becoming a defensive all-star.

His hitting, however, was another story.

Convinced that the gods would not let him hit a curve ball, Cerrano hovered around the Mendoza line for much of the year. Even Jesus Christ Himself could not help him hit the breaking ball. At the all-star break, Cerrano has hit an incredible 20 home runs, while earning a despicable .215 batting average! Amazing.

If Cerrano can worry more about his hitting and less about the possible sniper rifle in the stands, the Indians may make the playoffs after all.

(Cross-posted at Blogs4Bauer)

Al Gore Was Right!!!

The author leaving for court this morning.

The temperature in Philadelphia today is expected to hit the 101 degree mark, one degree shy of the record. The humidity is eeking closer to 90 percent, and while at court today, my Glock 17 melted.

Molly, SK, Cowboy Blob, and Rachel: I don't think Arizona in August will be much of a change.

Her Super Power Is Hotness

I'm no sure what makes me want to see this film more: the laugh-out-loud funny trailers or Uma Thurman in a superhero outfit. Yummy!

An American Jackass In Lebanon

According to Fox News, approximately 25,000 American citizens are currently stuck in Lebanon. One of these is Sylva Boghossian, an American tourist stuck in Lebanon. That's right, a tourist in Lebanon. I hear it's lovely this time of year.

Sylva was interviewed by Greta van Sustern last night, and confirmed her dirty, liberal hippie status immediately. I mean, who else would vacation in frakkin' Lebanon??!!! Check out some of her more idiotic quotes:

"Until the Americans do something to get us out of here, we're just sitting and waiting."

Perhaps if you were vacationing in Disney World, your country wouldn't have to pull your commie ass out of the fire!

"We should have been out of here by now, but the American government hasn't done anything yet."

Of course. It's the government's fault. I mean, since they forced you to travel to the most unstable regions on Earth! Jackass! Grow up and take responsibility for your own actions, you dope!

In a little over two weeks, I'll be spending my vacation in sunny Tucson, Arizona. If it is suddenly overrun by armed Mexican militants, do you think I should whine and cry that Washington won't Fed Ex my family out of there? Give me a break. Friggin' hippies.

Firsssst On My Shite List

In a recent post, Ssssteve from First With Flair referred to yours truly as “fat” and “balding.” Ssssteve, you son of a bitch, I AM NOT BALDING!!! Since SYLG is considered the Israel of blogs, retaliation will be swift and brutal. I present to you . . .

Top Ten Filthy Half-Truths About Ssssteve

10. While the rest of the world is watching “24,” Ssssteve watches reruns of “Moesha.”
9. Ssssteve writes his name that way because he talks (and spells) with a lisp.
8. After going two minutes without food, Ssssteve chewed his brother’s fingers off.
7. Ssssteve’s favorite performer? Liza!
6. Ssssteve gets his kicks at work by shutting off old folks’ heat in December.
5. After walking around Oregon shirtless, Ssssteve was mistaken for Sasquatch.
4. Ssssteve’s love for John Lennon broke up The Beatles.
3. Ssssteve wrote and produced the upcoming film, “Little Man.”
2. Ssssteve cheats at golf . . . badly. He adds strokes to his score.

And the number one filthy half-truth about Ssssteve is . . .

1. Ssssteve once had a three-way with Helen Thomas and Ruth Ginsberg.

People I Hate

Your weekly dose of bile is enclosed. Thanks for visiting!

The Jews

Israel's illegal, immoral, and unprovoked attacks on the peaceful country of Beirut is an outrage! It is yet another in a series of armed conflicts perpetrated by this despicable country. Before "The State of Israel" was founded, the Middle East was the world's paradise: sunny skies, beautiful flora and fauna, and children played without fear. There was never any conflict, and neighboring countries celebrated their Utopia. Nowadays, it is a war-torn region filled with strife . . . courtesy of the Jews.

Karl Rove

The root of all evil in the world is being sued by the chaste and virtuous Valerie Plame for her outing as the CIA's female James Bond. Rove allegedly (ah, who am I kidding, he's a Republican - HE DID IT!) put an ad in every major metropolitan newspaper describing Plame's bio, measurements, and likes and dislikes. He even published her home address and phone number. All this after the covert operative was photographed in LIFE magazine with her man-about-town husband. Disgraceful! Karl Rove should be crucified.

Danica Patrick

The Indy Racing sensation wants to try her luck at NASCAR. Swell. That's exactly what NASCAR needs, another butt-ugly driver. Look, this washed-up hag had her chance, and she couldn't cut in open-wheel racing. What could she possibly bring to stock car racing? More ugly women? No thanks. Stay where you are, Danica. Nobody wants you in NASCAR!

Ugh! Danica is really "beat in the face!"

Jabba The Detective

Detective Hartman (left) talking to a complainant.

Move over, Teddy Roosevelt. Philadelphia Police Detective Tim Hartman is the greatest hero in American history. Perhaps an explanation is in order.

Once every two weeks, the Philadelphia Police Department's "Power Day" rolls around. It is the one day that every police officer is scheduled to work. In my detective division, a nighttime Power Day means the squad will be getting take-out from Jovan's Place - a small restaurant in East Division that has food to die for. Everything is homemade, and the portions are more than mortal man can finish.

It appears that Tim Hartman is not a mortal man.

In a decision declared asinine by most of our squad, Tim wagered that he could eat an entire Jovan's platter - an accomplishment witnessed only once - with a loaf of their homemade bread in an hour. Without seeing the actual platters, you cannot fathom the lunacy of such a bet. Tim is not a big, fat guy, so where was he gonna put it? Tim's choice was the chicken pasta platter, which consists of about a pound of pasta and a pound of chicken . . . not to mention the bread. Naturally, a few detectives jumped on this bet, since it was a "gimme." The contest was set for Thursday, July 13th (last night).

My squad is possibly the best squad in the division, if not the city. Everyone helps each other, and we all get along, but when someone does something stupid - which I do on a daily basis - we are merciless to each other. We proudly boast that we break more balls before 9am than most divisions do all day. Thus, for the week prior, Tim took a beating.

Last night, we ordered the food early, so Tim could eat in front of the maximum number of people. The food arrived at approximately 6:45pm, and the ground rules were reiterated:

Every morsel of the platter and bread must be eaten.

Tim cannot go to the bathroom during the hour.

If Tim vomits, he forfeits.

If Tim finishes early, he must "keep it down" until the hour is up.

In a move which can only be described as brilliant, we took the meal and weighed it on our narcotics scale. Total weight: 3.65 pounds! At about 6:58pm, the bell rung, and Tim was off. First, he targeted the chicken. Since Tim eats like a prisoner, he encircled the platter and ate rather quickly. In minutes, the chicken was gone. While most of us were laughing (at him, not with him) he kept his poise, and continued to eat. We sat amazed as he blazed through the pasta like Rosie O'Donnell on a Twinkie.

Thirty minutes in, he was finished with the platter. Only the bread remained. Stunned silence filled the room as the bettors were reaching into their wallets. Smiling, Tim attacked the bread. Admittedly it was "dry," but he plowed through, finishing the entire meal in forty minutes.

3.65 pounds of chicken, pasta, and bread in forty minutes.

As if sensing our disappointment - and grudging respect - Tim asked the sergeant for a Tastykake Chocolate Junior from the snack machine. He got it.

Tim Hartman: A True American Hero.

Fly The Arab Friendly Skies

Beirut International Airport (above) is open!

A message from Lebanese Foreign Minister Fawzi Salloukh.

Hello, world travelers! My name is Fawzi Salloukh, and I am here to assuage your flying fears. Despite what you may have heard or read, Beirut International Airport is open for business! It is our understanding that the liberal world media has been reporting that those rat bastard Israelis have been bombarding our runways with ordnance. Nothing could be further from the truth! Our runways are clear, and we are eager to serve you - as long as you're not a Jew, that is.

Beirut International Airport is the jewel of the desert. We proudly utilize our two state-of-the-art runways during the day, and we are pleased to announce that just last week, we acquired lighting! That's right, folks; you can now fly at night! What a world we live in! Our airlines have seating options ranging from Pork to Non-Pork, and once we are in international airspace, our stewardesses will remove their veils! (Just keep that one on the down-low.)

So, come fly the Arab-friendly skies at Beirut International Airport: The Official Airport of Mohammed.

Cry Free Blogs!

Today, like Helen Thomas, SYLG is a man.

For today, Support Your Local Gunfighter is officially a member of The Alliance of Free Blogs. What is The Alliance, you ask? If I may quote Remulak Mox Argon, "Silly humans."

"The goal of the Alliance is to replace Instapundit as the biggest thing in the blogosphere by means of links, hits, and humor, thereby helping Alliance members evolve upward through the Ecosystem ."

Long story short: being an active member of The Alliance is like living on Main Street in America's Heartland. Most everyone knows your (blog) name, and they stop by often with freshly baked pies. Mmm!

Are you a member? (Of The Alliance, that is?) If not, get off the bench and get into the game!

Making Amends

I reckon I owe the guys a huge apology for not one, but two consecutive photos of The Human Muppet, Helen Thomas. Hopefully, this penance will redeem me in their eyes: Smallville's Lois Lane, Erica Durance. Enjoy!

Answer Me This, Caped Crusader

After ninety-nine sleepless hours, I have finally answered all of your questions. And by “answered,” I mean completely side-stepped your questions for the sake of attempted funny. In fairness to LMC, her question seemed serious, so I’ll truthfully answer that one this week. Until then, please bask in the warming glow of my wisdom.

Jimmy B the CUG asks, “Aren’t my happiness and feelings of self-worth more important than your being able to filter asshats?”

After careful consideration, I have chosen unfiltered asshats. Although they pose a greater risk of cancer, they move more nicotine into my system. I am now in flavor country.

Jimmy B the CUG then asks, “Am I FIRST?”

Yes, you are the first jerkass other than Ssssteve to ask if they are FIRST! No offense, Ssssteve.

Jimmy B the CUG then asks, “WTF happened to the comment moderation?”

Benjamin Franklin talked about moderation all of the time, and not once did he mention what a pain in the ass it was to check and approve every single comment on his personal computer. Besides, this was not what Al Gore had in mind when he invented the internet.

Ssssteve asks, “If a car left Philly at 8pm on Friday and arrived in Salem, Oregon at 12 noon on the following Sunday, then the transmission went out the following Tuesday, would that car then be considered a bad buy if purchased on that Friday?”

Let me answer your question with a question. If someone’s brother conned him into flying across the continental United States into America’s cesspool (Philadelphia) to pick up a “classic” car (a mid-90’s Oldsmobile Cutlass), forced him into an unwanted dinner with a fat, unfunny, dim-witted blogger (and Fitch), then kidnapped him for a non-stop cross country drive back to Sasquatch-ville . . . Sorry, I forgot where I was going with this.

John D asks, “Is that a picture of Helen Thomas, or is it the 2005 winner of the scariest contest of the Philadelphia PD’s Halloween party?”

Neither. It is The Man from GOP and the City.

RT asks, “Cross-dressing again, Wyatt?”

Why the hell not? I have the legs for it!

The Anti-Hippie asks, “Wyatt is that the day you forgot your makeup?”

Have you seen some of the pictures I have posted of myself here? That was me on a good day!

Lillian asks, “Would you rather swap spit with Helen Thomas or Hillary Clinton? BTW, I’m talking major tonsil hockey!!!”

Helen Thomas, no question. She’s got a great ass! Imagine what distinguished men I would join: John Wilkes Booth, John Quincy Adams, Genghis Khan . . . The only other person who ever swapped spit with The Hill-debeast is her cat Socks. Of course, I got cut from the Tonsil Hockey team in high school, so . . .

Tyler D asks, “I would love to know whose arm Big Cuz snapped off.”

Just watch the next episode of Viva la Bam and look for the idiot trying to create the sound of one hand clapping.

Fmragtops asks, “Why is it so frikkin’ hard to put some kind of warning label on photos of Helen Thomas? We have labels on cigarettes, beer, and video games. Is a Helen Thomas photo warning label too much to ask for? I mean something like, “Warning: This post contains images of Helen Thomas which have been clinically proven to cause erectile dysfunction.”

I know. There really ought to be a law. Please accept this photo as an apology:

Bug Cuz asks, “Wyatt, recently I filled out an online survey my friends sent me. A question on the survey was: ‘Have you ever kissed a member opposite sex.’ All gay jokes aside for a moment, I started to wonder, ‘How would a hermaphrodite answer this question?’ So, Wyatt, I pose this question to you.”

Cripes, you make one film called “The Best of Both Worlds” and you’re labeled for life!

Little Miss Chatterbox asks, “What made you want to be a policeman?”

I blame every single girl from Archbishop Ryan High School that wouldn’t go out with me. But I’ll get my revenge. Oh, yes, I will get my revenge.

Peakah asks, “Who do I knock off to get a spot in one of your golf foursomes?”

Let’s see: The Badger is the best golfer in the group, but he is also the only single guy. Thus, he is untouchable because we all live vicariously through his gorgeous girlfriends. Vinnie has liberal tendencies, but he also has a Beer Meister stocked with ice cold Guinness in his basement, so he’s out. Fish is a Penn State grad, but he also let me marry his sister, so I guess taking him out would be bad form. Actually, the only member of the foursome who is completely worthless is me, so I’ll send you my address. Make it quick.

RT asks, “UFC or WWE?”

XXX! Actually, like Fmragtops, I grew up watching wrestling. I was really into it years ago when Degeneration X was around, so imagine my surprise and delight when they brought them back. UFC is a whole other animal, but it’s much less faked, so I’ll take them.

SK asks, "Do you think Helen Thomas could get any uglier? Is she really still alive?"

Of course she could get uglier. She could pose nude for Playboy. And here's a little known fact: Thomas died 3,000 years ago, but Rick O'Connell and Evelyn Carnahan accidentally brought her back to life.

Enter India

Welcome to the club.

BOMBAY, India - Seven bombs hit Bombay's commuter rail network during rush hour Tuesday evening, killing as many as 100 people and wounding more than 300 in what authorities called a well-coordinated attack.

My $0.02: the sooner the rest of the world realizes that no one is safe from a terrorist attack, the sooner we can all try to eradicate the problem (read: terrorists). Government policies have little to nothing to do with it. Hell, Spain pulled out of Iraq almost immediately after their citizens were threatened, and look what happened to them: deadly train bombings.

Al Qaeda and their Muslim extremist ilk have declared a fatwa on the infidels. In their mind, every non-Muslim is an infidel; and thus, a target. Once the fatwa is declared, it's over for the rest of us. They will not change their minds. They will not call it off. And they absolutely will not stop until every non-Muslim on earth is dead.

So let's stop playing games, shall we?

Yet Another Q&A

I have come to the realization that I have not posted anything even remotely funny since about May. Post topics have been hard to come by, and I need something to kick my creativity into gear. I doubt another Q&A will do the trick, but it was the first idea that come to mind . . . and I'm a lazy, lazy man.

Ask your questions in the comments section, and I'll post your answers later this week.

Tower Of Basil

Good news, everyone!

It appears that my interview over at Basil's Blog is a green light. Thus, you can all continue to ask me questions by clicking on this link. The closing date for questions is set for 8/20/06, and the interview is due to be posted on 8/26/06. Unlike my lame attempts at interviews and Q&A's, Basil has talent.

So, get off yer keisters and shoot me some questions!

(Oh, and while you're at it, you can also ask questions of Friends of SYLG Miriam, Basil, Right Wing Prof, GOP and College, Crazy Politico, Fitch, and Big White Hat.)

Grip It And Rip It

Alas, this woman was not in our group.

Golfing with friends is always fun. However, since I have no friends, Vinnie, Badger, and Fish allowed me to tag along with them at Middletown Country Club yesterday. On hand: eighteen holes of beer, gambling, and insults. Tee it up!

As usual, I was the early arrival at the course. Also as usual, Fish and Vinnie were late. While paying the greens fees, Badger submitted, "It's hard to have an Antonelli Group without Antonelli." Of course, after he said that, Vinnie and Fish waltzed in. Walking to the first tee, we set the ground rules on the most important part of the day: the betting:

Closest to the tee on all Par 3's = $1 from each player.

Any balls going into either water or a bunker on assigned holes = $1 from each player.

On top of that, our foursome would be playing "Wolf" on each hole. The "Wolf" - different on each hole - gets to pick a partner for that hole, but must make his choice (yea or nay) after each person hits. The Wolf always hits last, and can go solo if the other three shots suck - which, with us, is usually the case. Winning team members get $1 each. And away we go.

The skies were clear, and the humidity was brutal, so Vinnie figured he needed a beer. When he couldn't get on at the clubhouse bar at 9:30am, he was royally offended. Badger and I reminded Vinnie that it was an obscenely rude hour of the morning, and maybe the beer craving was a sign of a larger problem. He disagreed. Hey, we're nothing if not health conscious!

At about the fourth hole, Vinnie's cell phone rang. This little interruption is usually a Badger trait. Vinnie answered and was discussing the merits (or lack thereof) of cable television technicians. Vinnie explained that Mrs. Vinnie scheduled the cable guy at the exact time that hubby was golfing for the day.

(Insert rude, sarcastic, and borderline blasphemous comments here. Fish, Badger, and I did!)

Soon thereafter, we approached the snack bar. Upon ordering (What else? Beer!) we noticed the snack bar girl. Wow. That's about all I can say without the wife cutting off my . . . internet privileges. The first Par 3 was ahead, as was our first money of the day. No one was unfortunate enough to hit water, but Fish hit a bunker . . . twice. Cha-ching!

By the back nine, Wolf was becoming pretty lucrative for Badger. At one point, he was up $20. So, when it was my turn for Wolf, I watched as Vinnie and Fish hit clunkers to the ends of the earth. Badger was up, and solidly hit a ball into the fairway . . . on the next hole over. I was about to say, "Pass," when Vinnie said, "Pick Badger. Take him down with you!" I smiled, looked at Badger, and said "I'll take that."

The next twenty minutes was filled with expletives.

We finished up our five and a half hour round - the course was packed - and headed to the clubhouse. If I remember correctly, Badger shot a 91, Vinnie shot a 104, Fish shot a 111, and I shot a brutal 113! (A 10 on the front and an 11 on the back didn't help.) Ouch.

Spin Cycle

Heh. Chalk up Jeff Gordon's second win in three weeks.

Gordon took the checkered flag at Chicagoland Speedway today after "helping" leader Matt Kenseth out of the way with four laps to go. Double heh. When asked about the bump and run, Gordon said, "I certainly didn't mean to wreck him,'' Gordon said. "But I didn't mind moving him out of the way, either.'' Nice!

Like the Oakland Raiders, Gordon's motto is "Just Win, Baby!" And win he did; for the 75th time in his career. Gordon is now only one win away from tying Dale Earnhardt's mark of 76 victories - and that must make the Earnhardt fans absolutely nuts.

The insane thing about that is that there are a lot of NASCAR fans that can't stand Gordon, yet deify Dale, Sr. News flash knuckleheads: THEY RACE EXACTLY THE SAME WAY! Earnhardt would have bumped Kenseth out of the way, and laughed about it in Victory Lane. And while I'm at it, what's the deal with Kenseth? I like Matt, but he sounded like a teething infant after the race:

"Waaa! Gordon bumped me out of the way! Waaa! That's not fair! Waaa! Jeff Burton saw the whole thing!"

Cripes man, buy a backbone for Christmas, will ya?

Italia! Italia!! Italia!!!

Congratulations to Team Italy: World Cup Champions 2006! The final game didn't disappoint, although deciding such an important match with penalty kicks rubs me the wrong way.

However, any time someone can stick it to the French, it's a good day.

Off The Topic . . .

But Metal Gear's Revolver Ocelot is a kickass villain.

MTV: It's Bam-tastic!

I rarely let a commenter's rant take on a life of its own, but this one was too good to be left unnoticed. Big Cuz had a run-in with MTV and Bam Margera last night in West Chester, PA. My comments are in red:

"I apologize immediately to Wyatt and everyone else. I have nowhere else to vent for this rant. I live in West Chester and I see that jackhole Bam Margera frequently. Tonite, he and his jackhole friends came into a bar I frequent dressed as Poison, the 80's band. I was arrested over these jerkholes.

Poison? What, were all of the Cinderella costumes taken?

When they came in they brought a crowd of about 200 and MTV cameras. The bar manager let them go because it's good publicity. I saw they ALL had eggs on them. I warned one right off the bat that I knew what was going on, and if I was egged, I'd retaliate. Wasn't a problem according to them.

The second they said "Not a problem," the rules go out the window. It's Thunderdome!

As soon as they started throwing eggs, one of the jerks crushed one in my face from behind. I grabbed his arm and broke it over my knee. Literally, I broke the jerk's arm. What's the chance of that being on MTV?

About as good as the chances of seeing a music video on MTV: nil.

In any event, I was arrested for assault, until MTV lawyers came up and promised not to file charges. I easily agreed, but how wrong is this?

The only reason the MTV shysters agreed not to file charges is because you probably could have sued their asses off for inciting a riot.

These jerkholes can go around West Chester doing whatever they want, and the second we retaliate, we get arrested? When injustice becomes policy, resistance is mandatory. Please boycott Bam and all his dumb friends' shows. I despise him. I am done, good nite."

In my humble opinion, Margera was the least talented of the Jackass "stars." He's a talented skateboarder, but otherwise, he's the male version of Paris Hilton. Normally, I only hypothetically promote violence against the stupid, but in this case, it appears warranted. Kudos!

People I Hate

The Management of the Philadelphia Flyers

Ed Snider, Bobby Clarke, and Ken Hitchcock are charter members of PIH. And for good reason, since they are solely responsible for the Flyers' playoff ineptitude as of late. Yesterday, the Flyers released a statement that admitted, in effect, they are out of this year's off-season free agent market. Swell. Granted, there are very few free agents worth a bag of pucks this year, but for the Flyers to stand pat after such a brutal season is unacceptable. Snider, Clarke, and Hitchcock should be drawn and quartered.

Barbara Streisand

It's bad enough that this skank is a terrible singer, but it appears that she is a liar as well. Streisand recently announced a concert tour in 2007, only a few years after her self-proclaimed "Final Tour."The big-nosed, butt-ugly, uber-liberal also coincidentally scheduled her tour in the middle of the election season. There's nothing like paying $800 to hear her warble through "Memories,"while she discusses how Republicans are Nazis. Oddly enough, some of her hardcore fans (all three of them) are threatening to sue Streisand because she reneged on her "Farewell" status. I guess those $800 ticket stubs won't be collector's items anymore.

Scumbag New Jersey Governor John Corzine

The bane of Deathlok's existence is embroiled in a budget controversy that has literally shut down the state. State offices, casinos, and even beaches are being closed because of the governor's egotistical power play. For those with short memories, Corzine promised to not raise taxes during his campaign run, and broke his word soon after his inauguration. Now, that's leadership! I would feel sorry for the voters in the Garden State, but after living through Jim Florio and Jim McGreevey's disastrous tax-laden administrations, they should have known better.

You Can Take That To The Bank

As I wrote yesterday, my friend Bill was promoted to Senior Vice-President of Huntingdon Valley Bank. Naturally, a position such as this comes with added responsibilities; some are obvious, some are not. After some brilliant detective work, I found out some other duties which will fall into Bill’s lap. Enjoy!

Bill’s Top Ten Other Duties As Senior VP

10. Lying to Congress.
9. Writing “$” on every money bag.
8. Supplying bread for the free toasters’ test run.
7. Ensuring all of the pens are chained down.
6. Avoiding getting locked in the vault with Mr. Mooney. (Oops, that’s a Lucy Ricardo duty.)
5. Using dye packs to paint his office.
4. Dressing up like the Monopoly guy (monocle and top hat included).
3. Interviewing hot, leggy, prospective tellers.
2. Making sure the dollar bills all face the same way.

And Bill’s number one other duty is . . .

1. Modifying his car horn to play “We’re in the money.”

Congratulations Are In Order

Congratulations to my friend Bill, who was named Senior Vice President of Huntingdon Valley Bank today. As Vice-President, Bill is responsible for the following duties:

1. He must step in to the top job if the Bank President is assassinated.

2. He gets the tie-breaking vote in the Bank Senate.

3. He must represent the bank at state dinners (and hopefully, will not vomit on the Japanese).

4. He can shoot his friends while quail hunting and avoid prosecution.

5. He can misspell "potato."

Congratulations, Bill! (And, yes, ladies, he's single!)

A Message From Madeleine Albright

Kim & I before our lovemaking marathon. Good times.

Hello, my name is Madeleine Albright. You may remember me as the Secretary of State under President William Jefferson Clinton. I am here today to discuss a very serious matter: bullying.

In the last few days pundits and bloggers alike have been ridiculing my close personal friend Kim Jong Il. These people have been laughing at this kind and gentle man because his Taepodong 2 missile test was a miserable failure. I do not think that this is funny. Kim is a wonderful, caring man who wants nothing more than to be respected in the world stage. With terrible leaders like George Bush and Tony Blair hogging all of the glory, poor Kim is left to sulk in his billion dollar mansion. For shame!

Some of you think that Kim is mentally unstable, and bent on world domination. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the only thing he "bent" and "dominated" was me during my last visit. God, what an evening. But I digress. North Korea is a peaceful, fun-loving country that simply wishes to have the capacity to attack the United States. Is there anything wrong with that? This wouldn't even be an issue if the Bush Administration did not give them a nuclear reactor.

(What's that? The North Koreans were given a reactor in 1994? Really? Oh.)

Regardless, in the new politically-correct world, it is imperative that we build each other up with words of kindness and understanding. The bullying and ridicule of Kim is despicable. It is my sincere hope that in the coming weeks of Taepodong 2 tests, my fellow citizens will give North Korea (and especially Kim) all the support it deserves. Thank you.

It's Just One Of Those Days

How did you spend your Independence Day? I spent it knocking out a North Korean Taepodong 2 missile over the Sea of Japan.

My name is Jack Bauer, and Tuesday was the longest day of my life.

It all began at 0500 in the cargo hold of a C-130 transport plane. After five hours without food, my survival training kicked in. I subsisted on silverfish and window condensation. After a midair refueling, I cut my way through the fuselage and dove 25,000 feet into the sea. Swimming to the shores of the Korean peninsula was trying, but it was an objective of my overall mission. It was almost a shame about the lifeguard on the beach, but what the hell; why leave a living witness? I buried myself into a dune and waited – with my Stinger missiles - for the approaching launch.

The sand chiggers were just as annoying as I remembered, but the crabs were not. That lifeguard didn’t have any refreshments in his chair, so I have been drinking my own sweat. No pain, no gain. The launch was only moments away, so I fired up the Stingers. It’s go time. Chloe recited the countdown and I sharpened my aim. 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . the bird is in the air.

Chloe tracked the outbound target and updated the coordinates. The great thing about Stingers is that, like a Polaroid, they are just point and shoot. I could have done this while bedding Audrey Raines, but I didn’t want to finish my mission on an upset stomach. The first Stinger was away less than thirty seconds into the missile’s track. Five seconds later: scratch one Taepodong. I don’t know what was more satisfying; that I took out a missile in one attempt, or the obvious look on Kim Jong’s face. Heh.

Oh, and just for fun, one the way home, I assassinated Kenneth Lay in time for Corn Flakes. The official cause of death is listed as a heart attack. Damn, I’m good.

(Cross-posted at Blogs4Bauer)

You're Busting My Balls, Hans Bwix!

Mr. Peanut is at it again:

SEOUL — Defying broad international pressure, North Korea test-fired at least six missiles into the Sea of Japan today, including a long-range Taepodong 2 that has been the focus of tension because of its purported ability to reach U.S. territory.

American officials said the long-range missile vanished about 40 seconds into its flight. South Korean media quoted senior defense officials who said it exploded when its fuel ignition system failed, with debris falling into waters off the coasts of Japan and Russia.

The Taepodong (which sounds like an Asian porn star's name) missile failed after forty seconds - much like Kim Jong does in the sack. Forty seconds? And we trust these bozos to manufacture our kids' toys? I thought Asians were good at math!

Look, Up In The Sky!

"Hey, I can see my house from here!"

Well, my friend Bill and I went to see Superman Returns in IMAX 3D on Monday night. While the whole PC watering down of the storyline bothered the hell out of me, I am still a movie/comic book geek at heart. And, since Bryan Singer - who helmed the first two X-Men movies - was directing, I figured it was going to be well done.

Although Superman Returns is not a perfect film by any means, it is very well done overall. The film begins after Superman's five year absence. After learning that his home planet Krypton may have been found, Superman left everything (and everyone) behind to see for himself. In the interim, Lois Lane has moved on with her L.A.S. (Life After Superman), and Lex Luthor has been released from prison - the result of the prosecution's caped no-show witness. Superman/Clark Kent try and work their way back into the world's good graces, while fending of yet another evil Luthor plan.

Brandon Routh was better than Christopher Reeve as The Man of Steel, but Smallville's Tom Welling probably would have been better. Kate Bosworth was a very good Lois Lane, and Kevin Spacey . . . well, he was typical Kevin Spacey. In my opinion, he did a lot with a fairly flimsy role. If there is a sequel, Luthor had better get a different script writer.

The special effects were phenomenal, and I especially liked Singer's use of the sonic boom whenever Superman flew to a catastrophe. The 3D scenes - for those of you who see the IMAX 3D show - were excellent. I'd like to see it again on a regular screen, though.

In conclusion, Superman Returns is a very good summer movie. It was probably on par with X3, but I have a feeling that Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest will be the blockbuster of 2006. But that's just me.

UBER'S BACK!!!

After two long months, Uber is back - if for only one day. She eloquently explains her much-deserved absence - long story short, her six-year old daughter was killed in an auto accident - and writes such a beautiful post, that I dare you to read it and not tear up. The fact that she posted this soon after such a tragedy is a testament to her character.

But don't waste your time reading this drivel, please, please, please stop by her blog and welcome her back with the enthusiasm you all show here on a daily basis.

I would consider it a personal favor. Thank you.

Deathlok's Back

And he brought a pocketful of sarcasm with him. Check out the gory details of his trip to Arizona here and here.

Let's Get It On!

If you are a soccer fan, today is your day. The unofficial World Cup championship game is underway, as host nation Germany is squaring off against Italy in the semifinals. Not to take anything away from Portugal and France (well, maybe France), but this game should be the best of the tournament. Giddyup!

By the way, GO GERMANY!

Let Freedom Ring!

On this day, 230 years ago, a cadre of brilliant men signed the Declaration of Independence in my hometown of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Here is a sample of that most inspiring document:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security."

Knight's Cross

Rommel, "The Desert Fox," in full tanker regalia.

Wow. I finally finished reading David Fraser's biography, "Knight's Cross: A Life of Field Marshal Erwin Rommel," and find myself in the unenviable position of posting about Germany's greatest general soon before Independence Day. Sorry; it can't be helped.

Anyone who watches The History Channel as much as I do already knows that Erwin Rommel is one of the greatest battle commanders that ever lived. Climbing the ranks from Lieutenant to Field Marshal, Rommel was a successful tactician throughout the First and Second World Wars, but he was even more successful at improvisation. Rommel molded the battle to suit his needs.

And his needs were usually more than Germany could provide, especially in World War II.

Throughout the North Africa campaign, Rommel found his panzerarmee outnumbered and outequipped against a formidable British force. For some, that would be a setback; for Rommel it was an opportunity. Waging battle across Libya and Egypt, the German tankers made more gains than losses . . . until Hitler stopped caring. Fueled by insanity and denial, the fuhrer poured men and material into the Eastern Front, leaving the panzerarmee at the mercy of Montgomery.

Although never a member of the Nazi Party, Rommel believed that soldiers do their duty and do it to the best of their ability. Politics never interested him as much as the welfare of his men, and to a great extent, his foes. When rumors of mistreatment of British POW's at the hands of his panzer troops surfaced, Rommel personally visited POW camps and vowed that any mistreatment would end in swift punishment. Rommel respected soldiers on both sides of the war, and that, eventually, was his undoing.

After the Normandy invasion of 1944, Rommel pleaded with Hitler to make peace. He declared the war "unwinnable," and a quick peace would save countless German lives. Hitler, of course, thought Rommel was simply a pessimist, and after an attempt on Hitler's life that July (of which Rommel did not have implicit knowledge), Hitler purged the highest ranks of the armed forces.

Rommel was given a choice: submit to a "People's Court" for trial on charges of treason, or suicide by poison; and thus, save his family from further punishment. Although Rommel was innocent of any treason charges, he believed that the SS would make sure he never made it to trial. So, he explained his decision and said goodbye to his wife and son. He left his home with two other generals, who gave him the poison. Rommel died minutes later.

Hitler was true to his word, and called Rommel a German hero. The state funeral was a farce, as the same people who were implicit in Rommel's forced suicide spoke with glowing praise at the services. Rommel's wife Lucy wrote later that she could barely stomach the display, and wrote that a man who gave his life in service for his country deserved better.

She was right.