"Klotz" As In "Blood"

Guido and I are off to the Bahamas. Posting will return Monday. Hope you can make it.

Can’t wait to see the number of spam comments this un-prophylactic-ed blog attracts. Everybody from anal biracial porn to nylon sex and the ever-popular lactating amputee midget bestiality site. I get hit with over 100 a day. These people must think I get more ass than a toilet seat.

And BTW — what the hell happened to Al Capone (“Life’s A Smoke“)? Al, come back to us, we miss you. Anybody know anything?

I blame Alesh.

Thanksgiving was about a week ago. How’s your diet doing?

Ain’t the burnin’ question you’d hear in Tempe, AZ at the Heart Attack Grille.

Most folks come in to enjoy the Quadruple-Bypass Burger: four half-pound beef patties, cheddar cheese, red onions, bacon, lettuce, tomato and a special sauce. Served with a side of “flatliner fries, fried in pure lard.” (Hold the Diet Dr. pepper.)

That’s not the reason the Sandy Summers, Executive Director of the Center for Nursing Advocacy, lodged a complaint. It’s the waitresses dressed up as nurses — sexy nurses, too, in high heels and fishnets and skin-tight tops, accessorized with stethoscopes ‘round their shapely necks and crosses on their nurse hats. See ‘em here.

“The endless association of sex and nurses leads people to believe that maybe nurses really are available to provide for the sexual needs of patients and physicians,” Summers says. “It degrades the professional image, it demoralizes practicing nurses and drives any self-respecting person away from considering the profession. — Daily Herald (UT)

Jon Basso, who describes his restaurant as a “real guy’s place,” ain’t havin’ it. “The nutshell of it is that I’m the press’ whipping boy because I’m considered rather repugnant by traditional standards,” Basso says in a phone interview from the restaurant. “But I believe I’m within my First Amendment rights to do whatever the hell I want to because it’s not Nazi Germany yet. Give it 20 years and it may be.” (op.cit.)

The place has been open almost a year, and business is booming, which means, I guess, that nobody has keeled over dead while still on premises. “We’ve had a few fellas barf on their buds, but hey–what bar hasn’t?” asked one lovely nurse* (the asterisk, added to menus, is Basso’s one concession to medical decorum). “And the occasional face-first faint in the hot chili. But most guys make it to the shitter before there’s any real problem.”

Basso recommends coming by on February 14 for the Valentine’s Day Massacre event. Single men only, and nurses* are “more scantily clad.”

BTW, smoking is allowed. What the hell, you know?

Yes, folks, Christmas comes early to the heartland:

DENVER — A subdivision has withdrawn its threat of $25 daily fines against a homeowner who put a Christmas wreath shaped like a peace sign on the front of her home.

Homeowner Lisa Jensen told The Associated Press on Monday that the board of directors of the Loma Linda Homeowners Association had apologized, called the incident a misunderstanding and had withdrawn its request for the wreath’s removal.

Jensen was ordered to take the wreath down when some residents in her 200-home subdivision saw it as a protest of the Iraq war. Bob Kearns, president of the board, also said some saw it as a symbol of Satan. — Lycos News

Yesterday, Kearns also called the wreath “an anti-war” and “anti-Christ” symbol, offensive to other residents. (Mysteriously, he also said something about the wreath being “an advertisement.”)

“He said people were offended about a Christmas wreath with a peace sign?” asked one resident, incredulously. “People are offended about a message that says ‘Peace On Earth’ at Christmas? He musta been smoking holly berries.”

The entire condo board resigned in disgust over the incident prior to the dunce’s embarrassed retraction. “I can’t be seen associating with him,” explained a woman who identified herself only as “Poontang.” I’m a $2 hooker with a crack addiction and AIDS, and I have a reputation to preserve.”

Reached for comment, the Rev. Adam Pfoole offered a historical perspective. “In medieval times,” he explained, “Satanists would take a crucifix, invert it, and spread its cross-bar to symbolize the Devil. That’s probably what Kearns was referring to when he said the peace sign was a Satanic symbol.” He paused. “That’s not to say he’s actually a Satanist, of course. Or medieval. He paused again. “It’s not to say he isn’t, either.”

Satanist? Or Medieval?

“Yes.”

Nasty stuff out there under the Big Sky in Colorado. I sure am glad this kind of crazy shit never happens here in Miami!

photo credit: Associated Press

From Pasco County, Florida:

A woman thought missing for two weeks was found dead in the home she shared with family members looking for her, wedged behind a bookcase in her room.

Mariesa Weber disappeared Oct. 28. The 38-year-old had greeted her mother after returning home that day but wasn’t seen again. Her family thought she had been kidnapped and contacted authorities. They repeatedly searched her room but found nothing, though they did notice a strange smell.

Late one night Weber’s sister went into her bedroom and looked behind a bookcase, where she saw a foot. Using a flashlight the family saw Weber was wedged upside-down behind the unit.

Weber’s family thinks she may have been trying to adjust a plug to a television that was behind the bookshelf. Both Weber and her sister had previously adjusted the plug by standing on a bureau next to the shelf and leaning over the top. Her family believes Weber, who was only 5-foot-3 and barely 100 pounds, may have fallen headfirst into the space. — Miami Hurled

Study Questions:

1. Why did the sister wait two weeks before looking behind the bookcase, and what made her look at that point? Was it the “strange smell,” or perhaps diverted dust bunnies blown out from behind the furniture? In your house or apartment, how often do you look behind bookcases for dead and/or missing relatives?

2. Given the astonishing inability of police authorities in Pasco County to discover a decaying corpse in a house they search before launching a nationwide alert, should they have everything sharper than a rubber ball removed from their possession, be immediately relieved from service, and hooting gibbons substituted? Would anybody notice?

3. If you were George W. Bush, would you order a search for Weapons of Mass Destruction behind this bookcase? What about bookcases in Iraq? Discuss.

4. Are books dangerous to one’s health, even fatal? Or does this have nothing to do with books and reading? Would you answer differently if you lived elsewhere than Florida?

5. Two boys are missing from the Red Lake (MN) Indian Reservation, and a huge manhunt, led by the FBI, has been underway since before Thanksgiving. Should the FBI start looking behind bookcases in Red Lake, or save time and just fly down to New Port Richey?

6. Using the Dewey Decimal System, should the departed relative be filed under “I” for “Inverted” or “D” for “Deceased?”

I sure am glad this kind of crazy shit never happens here in Miami.

P.S. For further insights, please consult The Mass Pube.

WTF is going on with all of you Blogger bloggers? Who started this conspiracy against posting comments?

Whenever I try to post a comment lately, I am asked for a password and a sign-in name, and, when I supply both (that worked 2 weeks ago) I get a message that one or the other is wrong. And when I attempt to rectify the problem, I end up with an altogether different name from bumblefuck knows where.

And every attempt to scrap the past and start over inevitably causes yet another fuck-up message that tells me to go someplace else and redo something I already did.
This has happened now when I’ve tried to post a comment on Stuck on the Palmetto, Sex and the Beach, Burnett’s Urban Etiquette, Dayngerous, and even the Miami Roundtable. What the hell is going on? And what the fuck is “beta?” Why can’t I post comments? Have I become personna non grata overnight (if so, what took so long?)

I would be ever so thankful, here in the spirit of the season, if somebody could clue me in.

(I DON’T blame Alesh. For once)

Thanks.

PS — where’s Al Capone? “Life’s A Smoke” seems to have vanished from the blogosphere.

Before we begin: here’s something left over from Yesterday’s rant:

ORLANDO — Snowbirds come to the Sunshine State to escape them, but weather officials said a few snowflakes were spotted in Central Florida.

The flakes, mixed with rain, fell about 9 p.m. Tuesday, according to the National Weather Service. Snow shovels were not needed, but some of the white stuff did hit the ground before melting, National Weather Service meteorologist John Pendergrast said. — South Florida Sun Sentinel

I don’t feel bad for the snowbirds (I never do–who does?). I feel bad for me. That’s right, me, Al Franken.

* * *

Yesterday I called my buddy Cliff Kattle at US Air Passenger Services. He’s a department of one: US Air, like many domestic airlines, essentially eliminated passenger services several years ago, deeming it an unnecessary luxury.

“Yeah, it’s brutal,” he laughed. “I spend a lot of time on the phone telling people we’re sorry. We’re not, of course, but that’s about all we’re capable of doing.”

That’s been my theory for years. Is there anything people can do to make it easier on themselves?

“Yeah! Keep out of the airports! Stay the hell home!”

What’s your next tip?

“Well, if you’re gonna fly somewhere, don’t take any carry-on luggage. That slows everything down, makes the lines longer at check-in, delays boarding and de-boarding and waterboarding and all that.”

Makes sense. What else?

“Don’t take any luggage for storage, either. All that shit has to be x-rayed and loaded on and off the plane, which takes time. And all that weight slows the airplane down.”

But wait. No carry-on and no stored luggage? People need to take belongings with them! Some are staying away from home for days!

“Not my problem! Did you ask me what would ease the trip? I’m telling you. Buy new shit when you get there, and leave it behind when you come back. It’ll make things easier, trust me. Also, leave the goddam kids behind. They take forever and they annoy the hell out of the other passengers. Makes the ride feel longer.”

And no pets, of course.

“Goes without saying. And fer chrissake, no old people. They bitch and moan, they’re slow and clumsy, they clog up the bathrooms, and they stink.”

Buzz, how’d you get into Passenger Services, anyway?

“Subpoena. Let’s see, what else? Oh, yeah. Get to the airport a day or two early. Shit happens, and you wanna be able to react to it. Don’t drive yourself and try to park, get somebody to drop you off a mile or two outside the airport perimeter. Traffic gets bottled up easily. Wear as little as possible to make security go faster. In fact, fly naked. And…”

Okay, Buzz. That’ll do. I get it. Next thing you’ll tell me not to set foot outside my living room for five days.

“NEXT thing? That was the FIRST thing! Don’t you fuckin’ listen?”

We hang up simultaneously. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

It’s 69 degrees in my kitchen, 66 in the bathroom, 65 in the Florida room. Guido is in bed wearing socks, sweat pants, a denim shirt, and a sweatshirt. She’s under a sheet, an electric blanket cranked up to 8 (out of 10), another blanket, and three cats. She’s the only person I know who hates the cold more than I do.

Here’s a complete list of reasons to like cold weather:

Wanna see it again?

I hate cold weather. Passionately.

Inevitably, when the first cold snap strikes south Florida, people will beam with pleasure. “Isn’t this terrific?” they’ll say. “Finally, a break from the heat!”

I respectfully suggest they go the hell back where they came from and pound icicles up their asses. There’s weather like this all the time up north in New Wingland and Minneysoda and Walla Walla Washington. It’s called spring.

The #1 reason people cite for relocating to Florida is the weather. This is bullshit. They HATE Florida weather. They spend 10 months of the year huddled behind hermetically sealed windows and doors blasting their air conditioning. They keep their houses, offices, and cars so frigid they could hang meat. They hate the heat. They fear the sun. They hate to sweat.

My house doesn’t even have a single air conditioner. I LIKE heat and humidity. I LIKE it when my whole house is over 90 degrees. I LIKE to sweat in my sleep. Me, I LIKE Florida weather. You don’t, do you. You just say you do.

So I’m miserable today and tomorrow; in fact, I’m miserable all damn winter. Whenever it drops below 80, I’m cold. And I fucking hate being cold. The next person who asks me how I like this terrific refreshing weather gets a lunger in the face. “Have a nice day,” I’ll say, cordially.

Global warming? Bring it on. It can’t happen soon enough.

Carnival Cruise Lines’ USS Liberty literally steamed into Port Everglades today, carrying 700 projectile-vomiting and be-shitted passengers who shared norovirus on the cruise, a highly contagious virus causing gastroenteritis.

“You didn’t know whether to put your head in the toilet or sit on the toilet,” said David Steele, 42, of Fort Lauderdale. ‘”It was messy,” said passenger Brian Swanson, 64, of Canada, who spent six days on the boat on a diet of bananas and dry toast. Miami Hurled

(Only in South Florida do you get your picture in the paper for transcontinental barfing.)

“You could smell ‘em coming,” one Port worker noted, wrinkling his nose. I haven’t smelled that much human waste since my navy days, sailing into Calcutta’s seaport.”

Carnival immediately launched a massive clean-up effort that will continue for two days. An army of workers in hazmat suits will work ’round the clock to restore the ship — if they can.

“There were staterooms literally ankle deep in vomit,” one worker reported. And in one bathroom, there was excrement covering one wall from ceiling to floor.” He paused. “I guess the shit hit the fan.”

“Who’s on these cruises, anyway?” a worker asked, rhetorically. “Old people and underpaid third world workers in a closed, isolated venue. If that’s not a combination begging for a health disaster, I don’t know what is. The real miracle is this sort of thing doesn’t happen more often.”

A Carnival spokesman denied that a similar problem was waiting to happen at the newly christened Carnival Performing Arts Center. “It’s not the name that causes people to get the trots,” she snapped, “It’s the sanitary conditions. We’re not allowed to just dump our waste on the high seas anymore, so we carry it around for 2 weeks, and sometimes, well, you know. Not that we’re unsanitary or anything. I mean, well, look, good-bye.”

It’s been pointed out once or twice that Americans are fat. You’ve seen the stats, how 60% of Americans today are overweight, on average 20% or so larger than the previous generation; how the proportion of obese and “morbidly obese” (love that term) people is greater than ever; that the percentage of overweight children is a genuine public health concern, etc. Yeah, yeah. Sound the alarm. We keep stuffin’ it in.

Evidently Americans are not the only ones wringing their hands about the avoirdupoidically challenged:

Spain has asked Burger King to yank an ad campaign for its monster XXL burger — which contains the caloric equivalent of 10 fried eggs — because it violates a national initiative against obesity, Spain’s Health Ministry said Thursday.

The ministry said it had been asking the Miami-based fast-food chain to abandon the campaign for more than a week because the commercials go against an agreement signed by the Spanish Federation of Hoteliers and Restaurateurs, of which Burger King is a member. Under the agreement, members of the federation said they would refrain from promoting huge servings of food, the health ministry said.

An advertisement on Burger King’s Spanish website features a photograph of the towering Double-Cheese Bacon XXL with the slogan: “It’s awful being a vegetarian, right?” — Miami Hurled

Turns out this mammoth burger has 971 calories — more if you add mayonnaise, ketchup, or some other sugary condiment — and 25 grams of saturated fat. I’m in awe. Talk about a whopper! There hasn’t been that much fatty red meat and cheese between two buns since Doogie Hauser’s coming-out party.

But the point here is, What gives government, in this case Spain’s, the legal or moral authority to intervene in people’s dinner? If somebody wants to shove enormous quantities of toxic calories down his craw, let him! It’s not like he doesn’t t know what kind of shit he swallows when he does it. And it’s his body, his choice, and his fucking money. If there’s a market for this — and clearly there is; 400 BK’s have opened in Spain since the first one in 1975 — let it determine and react to what people want, and keep the ham-handed (pun intended) federal authorities out of it.

When political correctness started telling people what they could and couldn’t say, it was jeeringly noted that the next step would be to apply the same sort of standard to people’s appearances. Would the Fat Police patrol neighborhoods, issuing tickets for sporting unsightly love handles and double chins? Well, I think we’ve got our answer.

PS Sorry this post is so late. I was having breakfast.

What’s left for Fox News to report now that their #1 rallying cause has endured a “solid thumpin?”

Frequent Sex Cures Women’s Semen Allergy

Women allergic to their partner’s semen can be cured by treatments requiring frequent sex, a New York allergist says. But don’t try it without a doctor’s help. Without proper desensitization, sex can be deadly for some women allergic to semen.

Yes, some women really are allergic to sex, according to a report at this week’s annual meeting of the American College of Allergy, Asthma, and Immunology in Philadelphia.

These women have powerful allergic responses to their partner’s semen, says David J. Resnick, MD, acting director of the allergy division of New York Presbyterian Hospital.

Such women may suffer genital itching, burning, and swelling. In severe cases, they may break out in hives or even have trouble breathing. – FoxNews.com

The article goes on to say that there are several effective treatments, but all require that women have sex 2-3 times a week.

Gentlemen: depending on the attitude of your female sex partner(s), this is either very good news or the end of your erections. Either you’re committed to a regimen of regular therapeutic ejaculation to desensitize her snatch, or she’s found a better excuse than the traditional headache.

It may also be good news for people like my good friend Larry (“the MassPube,” a frequent commenter to these pages), who suffers from severe anal itch. Larry: maybe it’s time to tell the boys to stop using the back door, or give them up completely. I respectfully suggest you refer this article to Ben Dover, your proctologist, for an educated opinion.