This Blog Is Closed…

…for now, anyway. The babe at Chromed Curses fixed me up, and I’m running again. I will be back here at The Original Home Of BaneRants, with (maybe) light posting here in future. I might use this place as a mirror. Depends on how much effort I have to exert.

There’s a lot of things I like about this blog here, but the other is home, and I have it set up just the way I like it. I’ll keep the other new Blogger blog up as a spare, in case I neck-fuck the original again. Damn, I’m gonna miss this blogs categories thingy. Whatevah. I will keep an eye on the comments, here, and if anyone acts like a turd, I will moderate the comments, so behave.

Anyway, LL (Loopy Libertarian) is my new hero, and she earned her link, both here and there, with clusters. I can’t believe all the people I had try, and she does it in like ten minutes. Fucking genius.

Too bad she’s such a bitch…

Weird…

The wife and I were watching Boston Legal last night, and Tom Selleck was on. Now, I am not envious of too many men on earth, but I have always wished I looked like him. Even old, now, he is a friggen stud.

I paused the show, and told the wife this, that even now, I wished I looked like him.

She snorted and said “On his best day, he’s not as good looking as you…”

Not true, but it made me feel good. I said that, and she got pissed, and told me to shut up.

Women…

Read This, And Tell Me Again…

…how sacred the Arabs hold their mosques.

Product Placement…

I have been testing this product since receiving it as a gift on Valentine’s Day. The Gillette Fusion Power 5-blade razor.

First impressions, for a man, is YEE-HA! when you see it. Looks like a space battle-cruiser. Impressive. Gnarly. Substantial. Slap in the battery, turn it on, and your wife’s ears will prick up from across the room.

The let-down comes during the actual shave. Long story short, with caveates, is that the three-blade power razor gives a better shave. BUT! The single blade ‘trimmer’ feature on the back is to die for. I wish I could buy a powered single blade razor. It is perfect for around moustache and sideburns, and for clean-up of those areas on your face that are always left with stubble unless you just grind and grind into it, i.e., the sides of my throat under my chin.

With the three blade razor, I can shave dry if I want, though it decreases blade life. With the five blades, I am really glad that the wife bought the shaving cream that is supposedly designed for the Gillette Fusion. You place those buzzing blades onto your stubble, and you KNOW you are getting a shave. It growls like a lawnmower in tall grass. You must rinse more often, because it fills with whiskers quickly.

It pulls at them, too. I never yet have felt pain with the 3-blader, yet the 5-blader hurts me occasionally. Makes me bleed sometimes, and the 3-blader never has.

All that having been said, in fifteen years of marriage, the wife has never remarked on my shave, until now. She says she notices the difference, and likes it. A lot. The razor stays.

I used to be a shower shaver, and I have a mirror in there. Now, I shave and trim (gosh, I love that single blade trimmer!) at the sink, and keep the 3-blader in the shower to bat clean-up on any spots I missed.

All in all, I think it was worth the money, so far. That will depend on how long the blades last. They are expensive for both powered razors, but I use a 3-blader for up to two months, and I shave every day except Sunday.

Honestly, though, if I knew then what I know now, I would buy a powered single blade razor (if they made such a thing, which I doubt) and stick with the 3-blader.

I will stick with powered razors until they quit making batteries. They just don’t make you bleed. All my shaving life, before power, the sink looked like I’d sacrificed a chicken in it when I was done. Now, the worst I get, is maybe one oozing pore, where a hair got pulled out.

In summation: The Gillette Fusion has the single edge ‘trimmer. It works perfectly, especially up under the nose. You can sculpt facial hair, and I would own this even if I had a beard. It gives a lovely razor cut.

It has a LOW BATTERY INDICATOR LIGHT! Is that the coolest, or what?! It also has an automatic shut-off feature (after six minutes) in case is gets turned on by accident. MORE COOLNESS!

It looks like a friggin Ferrari, and will flat cut the piss out of your whiskers.

Two thumbs and a wagging weiner up!

Vote With Your Feet…

Well, right now, I’ve got hardly any voters at all. My traffic has died, but I know who my friends are!

So, here’s your chance. I have three blogs, as of this week, all parallel universe versions of BaneRants. Out of courtesy, I have been posting the brain-cramps that fall into my head on all three sites, for the most part.

I like WordPress, I really do. It has nice aspects. I am still not satisfied with it, and it bewilders me as yet, but I like it.

I am terribly fond of my old blogger blog. Though it vexes me, as it is a poor, broken thing. My archives went to shit, and I blame WordPress, for shitty transfer code. Yet, it is broken, and has been for some time. Still, it has my ads, and my tip jars, and the bloggy things that make me smile. WordPress’s sitemeter app is Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition, and even if I could figure out some way to display it (guess what: I can’t) I wouldn’t, because it is illogical and stupid, and doesn’t synch with any time in any known universe.

My new Blogger blog is shiny. And new. And everything works. I would have done it before I went to WordPress if I had been thinking clearly, which, obviously, I was not. It looks more Baneish than the WordPress blog, though it is austere, and looks kinda high school.

One of my dear, dear friends and patrons made me a .jpg of my old blog flames that appears to be perfect in every way, yet I lack the skill to insert it.

So…I think I have answered my own question.

Fuck you, I do what I want. I will continue to take the extra minute and a half to post at all three, and count up the comments on all three in a few weeks, and make my decision then.

Back to square one…

 

The Goddess Speaks!

Go, and worship!

She presents an opposing view to mine, and yet my needle begins to waver, due to her words. She makes several convincing points, and may just be the sobering slap to the face I needed.

We shall see…

With The Force Of A Million Tons Of TNT…

…it fell, and sounded like a bomb had gone off downstairs. I actually armed myself, because I thought Jihad had come to my house.

We were all upstairs, thank God, when the ceiling light globe, no doubt loosened by all of Johnny’s dancing upstairs over the years, crashed down to the laundry room floor with the force of a million tons of TNT!. The wife is currently doing what all wives should do: clean it up.

What? Well how do you, or anybody else know what a million tons of TNT! sound like going off? You cannot safely extrapolate from one pound, and then multiply. There are factors we don’t even know about yet in a conventional explosion of that size, and yet men in white coats will go on TV and intone their high-toned rubbish as if it were gospel.

Probably with the same face on the village barber had when he told you that the only way he could cure your child’s asthma was to bleed them.

That’s why I get a chuckle when some wide-eyed acolyte of Science As Religion assures me that his facts are correct because, well, they’re infallible, and unchangeable. At least until the next directive with the new facts is put out.

And have you ever heard two high level mathematicians aguing over their own arcane magicks? Two learned men, each convinced the other is an idiot for believing in the solution they came up with? And a fatwah from an Evolutionist is something to be feared. They will come to your house with torches.

Oh well, Christians can get goofy, too. I am so sick of Donald Wildmon ruining good television for me I could just puke. Put him and Fred Phelps and all of their followers into a large vacuum container, suck out all of their air, and the world would be a better, saner place. ‘The Book of Daniel’ was one darn good, cute, funny show, and I always got a laugh, and it made me think.

And speaking of sucking, now I have to buy a light cover. And that sucks. See?

I know I make this look easy, but don’t try this at home, folks. You could pull something.

The Poo Containers, They Plot…

I hear them there, there in their big brown bag, whispering and giggling. They know they intimidate me, and they can smell fear.

Yes, I have been even more procrastinary than usual, and have put off collecting my Secret Sauce, and yes, I could die from such behavior, but quite frankly I do not care. In fact I believe I’d rather.

Oh, to be sure, I’ll have a good look at my poo, before sending it on it’s way to the Poo Men. Okay, I might poke at it a bit, to uncover some interesting looking treasure, but actually handle it on purpose? Egads. 

Aha! My Mom is a nurse! And she’s both seen my bum and handled my poo before. Of course, it has been awhile.

I am vexed. We have finally found something the wife won’t do for me. Well, that, and let me push in her little hemorrhoid I gave her by virtue of too much, shall we say, enthusiasm on my part. It’s not that she holds it against me, it is more that she refuses to, no matter how I beg. When Gargantua attempts to slip near there, she tenses up, and her hand begins to slide towards the 5 cell Mag-Lite she keeps by her bed.

He and I slink off, bereft, yet she will make no butts about it.

Pity me.

Once again, I did not win the lottery, so I am unable to hire someone to handle my poo for me. Instead a bunch of meat-slinging yahoos and Viet Cong get it.

There goes my investment portifolio…

 

FEMALE POEM

I want a man who’s handsome, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long.
One who thinks before he speaks
One who’ll call, not wait for weeks.
I want him to be gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, be not annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! For a man who makes love to my mind
And knows what to answer to “how big is my behind?”
I want this man to love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.

MALE POEM

I want a deaf-mute nymphomaniac
with huge boobs who owns a liquor store and a bass boat.
I know this doesn’t rhyme and I don’t give a shit.

 

via reader ‘The Bastard’.

 

I Can Be Wrong…

I have made a complete 180 on this UAE ports deal. This and this convinced me. Read them and tell me what you think.

I now fully support the sale, with reservations.

Update:

But wait, there’s more. Good stuff.

CRAP!!!

I give up. This is something you’d hire a negroe for. Or me.

I am still not finished with February, and I’ve been at it nearly eight hours. My sinews ring with pain.

I think I write too much. Perhaps if I delete all but one post a week? Keep my favorite? Repair it, and move on?

DAMMIT! I see people, when I am in top form, and I mean LOTS of people, mining my archives for MONTHS of my nattering! I shan’t be able to wipe my own ass at this rate, from the Carpal Tunnel.

Crappitty crap crappitty crap crap. I shall doubtless piddle down my leg, tonight, for being unable to control Gargantua with my weakened, suffering digitii.

Oh, why did I write so much? This is just stupid.

I am highly pisstivitated.

 

Pity Me!

I am just barely through repairing the month of February on my original Blogger blog. My shoulders burn, my eyes water, and my fingers ache.

Yet I will not be bested by this foul demon! Mordor beckons, and the Ring weighs me down, so.

Hold me, Sam, just hold me…

 

Test Link…

…to see if my new Blogspot blog posts look like chopped liver when I link to them here.

You know, I’ve had like seven experts look at my original template, and shake their heads and walk away? Sorry, Phin, to not give you your shot. I only just found your email in the pile a couple of days ago.

Speaking of chopped liver, the wife conned me into trying some Stagg Chili tonight that was made from black beans and baby brains chicken. Now, black beans look like deer shit to me, and I have never had a good experience with them.

Tonight, they were perfect on the chili dogs. Just enough heat to make you say ‘whoa’, and a perfect blend of seasonings. The wife raved over them pre-meal, because she’d sampled them at Costco, so I went for it. Stagg products rock, but this one rocks extra hard.

 

I Could Make And Market A DVD…

…of all of the pics I have ever posted here, ya think? I just checked, and the file is HUGE! Many pics I have just collected on my own, and never posted. Probably at least 50% more than the oldest old-timer here has seen. At least.

Cartoons, titties, dead ragheads, goofy stuff.

Hmmmmm…

Be Careful What You Wish For…

Apparently, racism has become legal.

Collins said, “The symbolism is that Detroit is a black city and that we’re unable to govern ourselves. So we need an overseer, the state legislature, or what have you, to step in and tell us what we must do and how to do it.”

She said she will not sign off on an operating agreement until it protects Detroit’s interests and the state should not try to force them with a funding deadline.

“That is a racist attitude. I resent it very much. I’m trying not to let it color my judgments, but we’re not a plantation, blacks aren’t owned by white folks anymore,” said Collins.

Well, where’s my ‘white city’? I want one. I will so miss a decent barbecue, though. And high-toned brown honeys sashaying around. That gangsta booshit? Not so much.

Since we honkies are the majority, we get to pick which cities we want. Sorry, blacks, you can have Detroit.

We’ll let you know, until then, go steal a moving truck, and get to packin…

 

Premature Articulation…

I may have spoke too soon. I think maybe my nice shiny new (and free!) McAfee Privacy Suite is blocking the write window of WordPress from opening. I have to turn off all privacy options to blog, now.

Is this worth the aggravation, I ask you? I’m the kind of guy who when a pet gets sick, goes and gets the gun. Why people spend money on their pets, unless it is to save a valuable breeder, is beyond me. Sure, I get sad whenever Ladyfish dies, but geez louise, my ex boss has sunk over $10k into his German Shepherd for hip replacement surgery, among other things. I’d have sunk a bullet into it, long ago.

I even told my parents they better watch it. Anything Medicaire can’t handle, they’re walking out on the ice.

So you can imagine my joy over my sick blogger blog, and at having to click off my privacy to post, and then type in my password each time.

Never make a lazy sociopath reevaluate whether you are worth the effort to pull back into the boat.

Another Day, Another Blog…

I better take advantage of this while WordPress is up again. The ‘Write Post’ function has dropped in and out all day. How I suffer for my art!

I started another Blogger blog at http://banerants2.blogspot.com. It works flawlessly. Note to self! Back-up template into Word before fucking with it!

Sorry for being so boring today. The free ice cream has been pretty bland, huh?

Shit, try having blogger remove the formatting from every post you’ve ever written over more than three years and see what kind of day you’ll have.

/whining

 

When It Snows…

…it can fall so quietly, that you don’t know you are screwed until you look out the window, or try to open your front door.

That’s how I look at the state of the world today. The snow has fallen, and it is too late to dig out.

My End Times believing Christian family and friends all seem to think that there is going to be some big signs in the heavens, and clear warnings. I always tell them that it is happening, right now, in bits and pieces, slowly and surely, right before our unseeing eyes.

You go to bed in a free land, and wake up and are no longer in control of your home or your children or what you can do to your own body, or where you can go. Nearly everything you can do can get you fined and/or imprisoned if you do it in a way The State doesn’t appreciate. And The State is made up of people, people who make damn good money and great benefits doing what they do, and they will walk over your bodies and those of your children to hang onto them.

Every rule or regulation they make is ultimately enforced at the barrel of a gun, and breaking even the slightest infraction comes with the very real possibility of your death or imprisonment.

Think it’s not? Ever see a guy get ass raped in jail because he got picked up on a warrant for parking tickets? I have. AIDS: Anally Injected Death Sentence. Game over. For parking tickets.

Yes, we’re getting snowed in, and the temptation is to just go to sleep there, in it, and let the warmth and lassitude overcome you. It really is easier that way, you know.

Give up…

Still Think You’re Free?

Think again. 

Let the tough talk begin, about how you’d have given all those cops what for.

 

Shittles!

The new ca-ca-candy snack for coprophiles! Little brown chunks of bountiful, bootyful goodness, and they’re halel, so you can serve them to your Muslim sheethead friends!

So, what’s the first thing that popped into your head when you woke up this morning? Or should I say ‘pooped into’…

 

Pic Test…

 And I couldn’t do it with a sweeter girl…

 

 

When Clothing…

…meant something.

Damn you, Wal Mart and China! Oh, and Sears! For devaluing our sartorial currency!

 

No Wonder…

…you can’t trust the weather report.

I’d always wondered why…

 

Hey, Spike Lee…

Your movies suck.

 

This Is Wrong…

Sure, fire the stupid fucker. Ban him from working in his chosen profession, and revoke his degree, because, like Ward Churchill, he is too stupid to be allowed any access to moldable minds. Like a child molester, he should never be allowed around children again.

But prison? Three years? Fuhuck me.

First they came for the Holocaust Deniers…

 

Random Sick Thought…

If you had the money and the equipment and the skill and the determination, why couldn’t you extrude plastic explosives into several festive, ballbearing-filled shapes, let’s say, plastic trash cans?

Playground toys? Newspaper racks? Benches?

Include the detonator inside, and blow it at will. Who pays attention to the garbage man?

Have a nice day!

 

Anal Soapage…

That’s what it’s called when you are soaping up your ass-cleavage, and you find a butt-clot that you apparently missed while swabbing your decks. Add in a toupee-sized bundle of ass-hairs, and I think we can all say “EWWWW!!!”

Well, I hope you are all having a happy ‘Dead White Guys Day’. I am offended by all holiday names. I think we should have a ‘Dead Black People Day’ in January, and an ‘Important Religious Figure’s Day’ in December.

In November, we can have ‘Boy, Did We Ever Fuck Over The Indians Day’. October? ‘Hey, Let’s Worship Satan Month’.

July? ‘Let’s Get Drunk And Blow Shit Up Day’.

I have noticed, that when you are unemployed, they don’t give you the day off. Perhaps on those days we call holydays, the worker bees should get the day off, and we drones should have to go to work. Teach us a lesson.

My car has gone to shit, again. We are using our State Farm towing option for maybe the last time, because they are shutting it off next month because we use it. The State makes you buy something that the company you bought it from takes it away or charges you more for if you ever use it. Nope, no racket here, move along, nothing to see.

And while we’re at it, we will tax your asses off to build roads, and then station worthless fuckheads with radar guns on it, so we can tax you even more, because you are driving in a way that we, The State do not approve of.

In my town, the fines go directly to pay the cop’s salaries. They are very vigilant.

Yeah, keep whining about all those phantom ‘freedoms’ you think you have. Sorry, George, we fucked up what you and God gave us.

Beyond repair…

 

Let The Record Show…

…that in a Presidential race between Hell-Hag Hillary and Condomluzer Rice, I would cast my vote for the Hag to attempt to keep Condi out.

I think she’s weak. I think she’s a born liar. I think she is a crafty tool of Bad People, and I think she is a terrible choice for any job choice outside of, perhaps, housekeeper or limo vacuumer.

I’ll never vote for another Bush, and I could care less if they impeach this one. I think Dick Cheney would make a fine President, and I’d vote for him in a snap. I wish Rumsfeld would run. We need a Warlord. Failing that, I would LOVE to see Bolton in as Prez.

Just never Condi.

 

Johnny Lost A Tooth…

Okay, I lied, he lost two teeth. Okay, I lied again, we know exactly where they are. They fell right the fuck out of his mouth; one a victim of Mister PBJ, in the kitchen, with a gob of peanut butter, and the other a victim of Miss Apple, on the Blue’s Clue’s plate, also in the kitchen.

The kitchen is a dangerous place to take your teeth into, these days, Watson.

The Tooth Fairy extorted us out of four shiny quarters last night (what, you only give them one? cheap fucker…) and she’s coming for payback again, tonight. We leave the Baggie with their ex chopper in it under their pillow, and replace it with The Baggie O’ Quarters. Imagine their surprise.

Nat looks like shit today. Like she stayed up most of the night waiting to spot the Tooth Fairy. John commences to snoring like a hog, and sleeping like a log, but Nat lurks, oh yes she does.

To no good effect, though, because the wife is A) not stupid and B) has to answer The Call Of The Bladder in the early AM (must be her prostate) and has programmed herself to do the tooth-switch at the crusty crack of dawn, when all good children have lost consciousness.

John alarumed me some, showing up at my elbow, blood drooling over his chin, when he should have been brain-deep in Dora. We have been sopping up his Special Sauce, here and there, off and on, all weekend. I get this odd craving for grenadine. Beware of ‘tards bearing teeth…

…okay, that’s just sick and wrong…Lord, I apologise…

Speaking Of Archives…

Have you ever seen a grander piece of writing than this?

…have you ever seen a more flagrant piece of propaganda? ‘Palestinian Militants’…that’s like calling Jeff Dahmer a ‘Serial Chef’.

Damn I’m good. I will be sorely vexed if my archives bite it.

Update:

AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!

I am so annoyed! Somehow, last night, all of my posts on Blogger had all of their formatting removed, and now they are just lumps of words!

FUCK BLOGGER!