With The Force Of A Million Tons Of TNT…

February 22, 2006

…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.

When Clothing…

February 20, 2006

meant something.

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


No Wonder…

February 20, 2006

…you can’t trust the weather report.

I’d always wondered why…


Hey, Spike Lee…

February 20, 2006

Your movies suck.



March 30, 2003

Some young Marines, yesterday, came upon a 4 year old Iraqi boy who had been cut in half by something fast and hot and final…the boy was still alive, and trying to crawl.

Our Marines did what they could, summoning aid and whatnot, but I think we all know the outcome. Had I been their NCO, I would have ordered them to move on ahead, and then knelt and gently put that child out of his misery…we would have all gone on to have our own special nightmares…later.

There is a job to do…it is messy, and only certain, very special people can do it. Compare the amount of deployed military to the population of just the United States alone, and you see that it is a very infinitesimal slice, comparatively.

I wish people would just shut the fuck up and back the fuck off and try to keep things in perspective. More people will die this Sunday in car accidents going to and from church than have died and been wounded and been captured and tortured to death in this whole fucking war.

And there will still be the story of a little boy, seeing his own guts laid out around him, and some young Americans who will never forget that image for the rest of their lives.

God Bless them all…

Mountains Out Of Dung-Heaps…

February 26, 2003

I was making some toast this morning and I had the TV on in the background.

Fox News was playing Robert Blake’s prelim, and I could give a shit if that turd lives or dies, but my ears pricked up when I heard the Prosecutor ask the M.E. a question about how many autopsies he’d performed.

The M.E. stated that he’d performed “4,500 autopsies, 1,000 of which were gunshot homicides…” Hmmmm….according to the anti-gun zealots, I would have guessed that the gunshot homicides would have been at least 4,499, with the 4,500th having being bludgeoned to death by a gun, or perhaps dieing from the shock of having been shown a picture of a gun.

Could our beloved anti-gun zealots be exaggerating a bit? Now, how about the anti-SUV crowd?

Ooops, there I did it…calling them a crowd. I’ve only heard five or six people talking trash about SUV’s, and here I am making them into a crowd…

See how this works?

Once Bitten, Twice Fried…

February 21, 2003

At least 96 people were killed and 187 hurt after a Rhode Island nightclub erupted in flames during a ‘Great White’ rock concert Thursday night…I guess if you gotta go, half smashed listening to some good metal oldies is better than taking a swim with a Kennedy. I feel a little guilty, though, like when you hear a bus went over a cliff and you think ‘Yikes!’ and then you hear it was migrant farm workers and breathe a sigh of relief. A bunch of RI yuppie Democrats is pretty far down my scale of working up a good give a dang…sorry.

Now, if it would have been a Jim Jeffords fund raiser, I’d be actively celebrating. Instead I’m just annoyed at real news being covered up by the media anal exam they give every trivial story nowadays, though I must admit that the whole live-cam on the scene ‘Firestarter’ re-enactment is pretty cool.

As usual, I wonder what is going on in the real world that is being obscured by this Reality TV Rhode Islander Roast. And I can’t wait for all the crocodile tear ‘memorial’ ceremonies to start…little stacks of flowers, cards, and bears left by well coiffed fakers who are just hoping to get on TV while they pose for the cameras.

Ever notice how their mascara never runs, these pseudo-snifflers? And the cameramen, bored, always oblige by filming the hotties as they pose by the ‘makeshift’ memorial. Heck, go give those bears and flowers to some sick little kids in a hospital, these folks are just ash tray filling, now.

If someone wants to start a fund for those burn victims, though, mark me down for a donation, that shit hurts. If it were me in that hospital, I’d be begging someone to OD me with a tube of street H before I had to endure any more pain, and then spend the rest of my life looking like a fallen souffle’.

Oh, well, I’ve spent enough time grieving over this…