"Klotz" As In "Blood"

A Testament to the Insidious Impact of Florida Sunshine on Brain Matter

Friday, August 31, 2007

Ass in Trouble, Seat in Jeopardy

Filed under: Across the Fruited Plain — Steve @ 1:24 pm

Larry “Wide Stance” Craig, Senator of Idaho, will most likely resign his seat as early as today, reports from Washington say. Evidently Republican leadership is exerting pressure, hoping the lying hypocritical fucktard venerable incumbent will save them the trouble of calling for his resignation.

The political action organization known as The Log Grabbin’ Republicans released a statement expressing their “delight to see him go, if you’ll pardon the expression. Why stall any longer?”

Russian Bare

Filed under: Sense & Sensuality,What A Wonderful World — Steve @ 12:30 am

Few world leaders are scarier than Vladimir Putin. But now that he’s a sex symbol……wait. Maybe you haven’t heard.

putin.jpg[Few] could have predicted the squall of gossip and speculation that would follow after Putin stripped off his shirt for the cameras while on holiday with Prince Albert II of Monaco in the Siberian mountains last week

The resulting images of the presidential abs, prominently enshrined on the presidential Web site, inspired admiration, criticism and some racing pulses among his admirers…..The Russian media still can’t get enough. — International Herald Tribune

I know, he’s no Arnold. Or even Jesse the Body. More like Kennedy — the dead ones. Could it be the sexy shoes?

It sure ain’t the suntan. Vlad the Paler.

Komsomolskaya Pravda reported that women who visited its Web site posted comments on Putin’s “vigorous torso” and said they “were screaming with delight and showering (him) with compliments.”

Russian women, eh? Well, bless their beards and babushkas, they haven’t had a lot to chose from and besides, odds are they were drunk on vodka at the time.

Russian gay chat rooms and blogs were particularly intrigued by the photos: Some claimed that Putin, by stripping to his waist, was somehow pleading for more tolerance of homosexuality in Russia — where gays and lesbians are for the most part forced to remain closeted.

One satirical photo circulating on the Internet jokingly compared Putin’s mountain adventure with Prince Albert to the movie ‘Brokeback Mountain,’ a love story about gay cowboys.

Krushchev-boot.jpgPhone Larry Craig and tell him to be at the Aeroflot terminal in Sheremetyevo Airport, fourth stall on the left. We’ll get to the bottom (!) of this. If he’s caught tapping his foot, he can tell them he was only paying homage to Nikita Khrushchev (that should earn me the Obscure Reference award for the entire summer).You tell me. Do you find this guy even remotely sexy?

My favorite Putin story: he, his advisers, and his cabinet adjourn for lunch. They create a major stir when Putin strides into a restaurant and seats himself at the head of table. A waiter scampers over.

“A pleasure and a honor to see you, Mr. President,” he toadies. “What can we bring you?”

Putin scowls at the menu for a moment, then slams it shut. “I’ll have the chicken special,” he orders.

“Of course, sir. Right away! And what about your vegetables?”

Putin replies, “They’ll have the chicken special, too.”

Hmm. Maybe that’s a little sexy.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Chief Timoney Loves Us

Filed under: News from the Nation's Dicktip — Steve @ 8:56 am

….and apologizes for his lack of judgment.

Don’t you feel better now?

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Key Waste

Filed under: News from the Nation's Dicktip,Sense & Sensuality — Steve @ 12:29 am

The temperature outside the motel was only in the low 90s, but the sun atop the sky was brilliant and strong as the nation’s leadership isn’t. But who cares? I’m in Key West! I pop a beer. Guido pops a dozen freckles.

This is Rolling Rock #3, by the way, leaving 3 more in the cooler; the last of my stash, genuine made-in-Latrobe Rocks I’ve been hording for this trip. Guido and I had the first two as we crossed 7 Mile Bridge, my favorite beer ever. Mine was gone before the bridge crossing was complete, but she kept hers away from where I could grab it. Bitch.

P1010131.JPGI love Key West. I love a place where the big decision each morning is, What shirt should I carry around with me today? And this time of year the sweat pours out faster than the beer pours in. We set off on foot, of course: once we arrive the car stays parked until it’s time to leave.

We pass by the cat house a block north of the Chicken Store. One of the girls on the porch gives Guido a nod and a smile. “I like your top,” she says. “Cute.” Guido flashes a smile back and thanks her. Great, I say. The whore admires your outfit. “If you want what’s in it,” she warns me, “Behave.” Yeah.

I don’t fish, collect antiques, appreciate art, enjoy gourmet food, like to shop, or anything else KW has to offer other than the delicious weather, party atmosphere, and sense of humor. The place is a theme park where Key West is the theme. Everything about it is a lie or a parody. Southernmost Point isn’t the nation’s southernmost point (in fact it’s been moved several times). Nothing inside Hemingway House today was there when he was. Pepe’s isn’t 100 years old as they’ve been claiming for decades, although it will be in 2009. But who cares? The bars are fun, the music is lively, I bake my brains, and Guido dances all night.

Bicycling (pedaling our asses) around the island Saturday we bump up against the cemetery and decide to visit. But circling the place we find every gate mysteriously closed. Second time around I spot a workman inside, digging. “Say, my friend,” I call over, “How do you get in there?” He stops, leans on his shovel, and looks at me for a long moment. Finally: “You gotta die,” he explains.

Right. People Who Died, Died.

On the way home, heading north over the 7 Mile Bridge, we polish off the last two vintage Rolling Rocks we will ever drink. Part of my childhood, died, just died, as Ray Davies sang. Next year when we’re back, I’ll toss that part in the cemetery. However, I kept the bottle.

P.S. The menu board is from Southernmost Deli — they used up the two letter “s’s” on “Roast Ass.” Or would you prefer the “hame?” Or perhaps the “corn bef?” It’s good today, only .599 I love Key West.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Clogged Blog

Filed under: Sense & Sensuality — Steve @ 10:38 am

Great weekend in Key West…..so great blogging is completely out of the question.  It requires brain cells, and I need the few I have still functioning to keep from drooling and wetting my pants.

Ironic development after the lovely words from Dayngr Girl last week.

Be back Wednesday.  Tuesday earliest.

Friday, August 24, 2007


Filed under: Sense & Sensuality,What A Wonderful World — Steve @ 12:34 am

Nina Berman is a photographer whose exhibition, “Purple Heart,” was reviewed in last Wednesday’s New York Times. The article reviewing the exhibition is gripping. If by “gripping” one means “horrifying.”

A more complete presentation of these photos (and others) is on her website. What appears here is a sample.

Same day I read this, which I find sufficiently upsetting to push away my lunch and walk in circles for half an hour, grinding my teeth and punching inanimate objects, I encounter this charming tale of Americana:

Korean War veteran Nyles Reed, 75, opened an envelope last week to learn a Purple Heart had been approved for injuries he sustained as a Marine on June 22, 1952. But there was no medal. Just a certificate and a form stating that the medal was “out of stock.”

The form letter from the Navy Personnel Command told Reed he could wait 90 days and resubmit an application, or buy his own medal. After waiting 55 years, however, Reed decided to pay $42 for his own Purple Heart and accompanying ribbon — plus state sales taxes — at a military surplus store. – Houston Chronicle

Emphasis mine. And speaking of Purple Hearts, check out this, if you missed it.

I invite you to reflect on these returning servicemen the next time you hear our fearless leaders in the nation’s capital and on the campaign trail discuss the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. BTW — as far as I can determine, none of them is a blood relative to any damaged veteran pictured here.

The Department of Defense estimates that 29,098 troops have been wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan through Thursday. Hell — no wonder they’re out of Purple Hearts!

coulter.jpgOf course, when it comes to sensitivity to others’ suffering, there are plenty of American patriots whose words salve wounds and wisdom inspires strength. You find them by the score in the nation’s media — shake a tree, and out they fall. They’re known for their compassion, generous in their nick-nolte.jpgpraise of courage, and lauded for their tasteful encouragement of intelligent dialog among patriots like themselves. Fucking angels, they are. Can you tell?

As for horrorshow photos, well, let’s send the kids to bed and leave the worst for last.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

People Who Fried, Fried

Filed under: Across the Fruited Plain,Sense & Sensuality — Steve @ 12:12 am

Americans’ capacity for self-delusion is endless, breathtakingly so. Forget about the Big Thinkers, the Movers and Shakers and Shapers of Thought; the Best and the Brightest who gave us Vietnam; Neo-Conservatives who stuck us with Iraq. They just proved H.L. fatfree.jpgMencken’s dead-fucking-on axiom: “[T]here is always a well-known solution to every human problem – neat, plausible, and wrong.”

No, I’m talking about the execrable crap we stuff in our pie holes in the hilariously incoherent spirit of “healthy diet.” Lite beer. Diet soda. Low fat pork rinds. Hawaiian Punch cans on a stick. Smart Water. Splen-duh.

The most recent episode in this farce stems from the nation’s heartland, where, at the Great Indiana State Fair, Health Nazis have struck with the vengeance of Viking marauders on helpless herrings:

The deep-fried Combo Plate may be a little more healthful this year at the Great Indiana State Fair. So say the fair’s leaders, who, taking a step rarely seen in the realm of corn dogs and fried pickles, have banned oils with trans fats from all the fryers that line the grounds here. — NY Times

That’s right. Now, in Indiana (and other similar venues clawing for a shard of profit promised by this new marketing initiative aimed at the lardy gullible), your deep-fried Oreos, Milky Ways, Reeses’ Peanut Cups, and (my favorite) “Pepsi Balls Served with Cinnamon Sugar” must be fried in oil free from trans fats. That should preserve your waddling obese life for exactly 6 additional heartbeats. Line up and scarf ‘em down.

Nobody can be this stupid, but everybody is capable of kidding himself straight into the grave. We Americans love our sweet, fatty, tasty shit. Why can’t we just gobble it down guilt-free and shut the fuck up? You like it, you eat it, and you make yourself happy. Same damn thing as cigarettes. Something’s gonna kill you sooner or later. Leave off the bullshit “make it better for you” crapola.

What’s wrong with dying fat and happy? Generations before ours slit throats for that royal privilege.

“Ten out of ten people die. Shut up, cut the cards, and deal!” —Ring Lardner (although I couldn’t find it. Your assistance welcome.)

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Something Fishy About Earthquake Relief

Filed under: What A Wonderful World — Steve @ 10:10 am

chavez tuna.gifThis is a tuna can that has been giving to people affected in the last earthquake on Peru and is a part of some goods sent by Venezuela regime, but as you can see, it has the picture of Chavez and the former Peru presidential candidate (supporter by Chavez) Oyanta Humala. Also you can see a big “O” in red color that is the symbol of Humala’s political party.

There are thousand of these tuna cans that has been spreading in the area and is a proof that Hugo Chavez is not socialist, Hugo Chavez doesn’t care those people, the only thing he cares about is his image and make politics propaganda. We need to put a stop on this. — Civilization Fanatics Center

Great name for a website, and a great story.

And great photo: Hugo Chavez as a Charlie the Tuna wannabe. Back home, he’s trying to change Venezuela’s constitution so he can be “Charlie the Tuna for life.”

Monday, August 20, 2007

Watered Down

Filed under: Sense & Sensuality — Steve @ 1:49 pm

Note: I was down for a while, and the host crashed. But here we are at last.


Guido brings some bottled liquid into the house labeled “Smart Water.” I drink it pretty steadily over the weekend, trying it as a daytime alternative to beer. But I don’t think it works, which I mention to her.

“What do you mean, it doesn’t work?” she asks.

Well, I explain, I’m not any smarter, am I? I think if I drink, what, 2 gallons of something called ‘Smart Water’ over a 48 hour period, there should be some result, shouldn’t there? Other than peeing like a race horse.

“It isn’t called ‘Smart Water’ because it makes you smart,” she begins.

Why? Doesn’t cold water cool you off?

At this point I get the look they teach them at Wife School. You know the one? The knit brow, the pulled mouth, the tired, set-upon, weary resignation face?

“‘Smart’ is its name,” she says, “Not its function. It’s marketing, something you’re completely immune to, so you don’t get it.”

Damn right I don’t “get it.” If ‘Smart Water’ doesn’t make you smart, at least is it smart itself? Y’know, it’s like water that is smart? Like cold water is cold? Or orange juice orange? Or a dumbwaiter mute?

“If I thought for one second that this water could make you smart, I’d pump liquid tons of it straight up your ass, ” she tells me. “I’d fucking waterboard your sorry self with Alberto Gonzales and the Supreme Court cheering me on.”

That’s the trouble with you women. You don’t think logically. I bet lots of people see the name ‘Smart Water’ and figure either the water is smart, or the water makes you smart. It all makes perfect sense.

“I’ll make you smart, asshole,” she says. “I’ll make you smart all over.”

God I love it when a beautiful woman threatens me with pain and humiliation. Reminds me of my upbringing at the hands of clerical primates. I wander off for something cold to drink, like a cold beer. Maybe even a smart beer.


Filed under: Etherea — Steve @ 7:51 am

Today’s post will appear this afternoon if I’m lucky, or tomorrow if I’m not.  Sorry.  Shit happens.  And it did.

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