The Price is Right

The Price is Right

Dane Cook does a bit on the Dave Attel Insomniac Tour DVD about the Price is Right, and how it's the show that you watch whenever you're home sick from work, school, whatever....good stuff, I recommend it, especially the bit about how we all have our own theories about how the Big Wheel should be spun, and how it fills us with a self-righteous indignation anytime somebody spins the Big Wheel in a way other than how we would spin it.

Long time readers will remember a few rants I made on Price is Right when I was working third shift. Price is Right was like my Letterman. I'd get home from work, do whatever chores I needed to do during the morning, and then come home, watch Price is Right, and go to sleep.

Well, I'm working a lot of evenings here lately. So, as I'm sitting down to eat something in the late morning, I'm usually watching Price is Right.

And I've decided that Dane Cook's view on Price is pretty much dead on. I figured out that I'm watching mostly so that I can sneer at the people on screen.

Case in point: yesterday's edition featured the card game where you attempt to win a car, and your bid needs to come within a certain range of the actual price of the car. In the case of the lady playing the game, she needed to get a bid within $2,000 of the price of the car....

Okay, her initial bid is 12,000, and she draws cards until she gets her bid up in the range of 16,500 or so. And she stops. Meaning, to win the car, the car would have to be somewhere between 16,500 and 18,500 dollars.

It is with the utmost grace that I scream at my teevee: "You're a fuckin' moron."

Little did I know that I'd only seen the tip of the iceberg.

The actual price of the car (which I'd placed fairly correctly in the $21-22,000 range) was 21,600.

Okay. Here's the thing. The lady's bid was 16,500. And you can see a couple things in her eyes: Expectation, and absolute ignorance as to whether she's actually won the car or not.

She's not taken the mental moment to subtract 16,500 from 21,600, and then compare 5,100 to 2,000 to determine whether it is more or less.

Bob turns, and his tone of voice doesn't instantly convey the message that she's lost her game, and for a split second, she starts to get excited. This lady, for a split second, thinks she's won the car....

I vacillate from angry to sorry, back and forth, and back again. And then I turn off Price is Right, angry that they've put me into that quandary.

Anyway. I watched today, and laughed at the girl who couldn't comprehend the fact that all the contestants on Contestants' Row had overbid, and that they were being made to re-bed.

"I already bid," she said, indignant as hell. It was probalby my imagination, but I think Bob Barker paused for a second, while he pondered the ramifications of braining her with his microphone.

How much do you think Bob drinks?

Bullshit

Bullshit

When I moved into my new place, I decided to get the basic, basic package on my cable. Owing to that I can't create wads of cash out of thin air to pay for teevee. Which means I get the networks out of Chattanooga, all the networks except Fox out of Knoxville, 2 shopping channels, 2 God channels, TBS and WGN.

Also, the picture for ESPN comes in, just not the sound.

But I just realized something, as I published that Hurricane post.

I don't have The Weather Channel.

How the fuck am I supposed to believe that a major storm is blowing across a state unless I have Jim Cantore walking against the 115 mile an hour wind to prove its veracity and ferocity, if I don't have The Weather Channel?

I mean, it's one thing to see Al Roker get blown down the streets of Ft. Lauderdale, but Jim Cantore is the weather badass, and we all know it.

I close this post by wondering how many hits I'll get from people looking for pictures of "Al Roker getting blown?" And I wonder how many of them will come from somebody other than Al Roker.

Chapter MMCCCXXXV: In Which God Hates Florida

Chapter MMCCCXXXV: In Which God Hates Florida

How many times does God have to tell you?

Take a look at this picture here:



Okay, see the "H" that's right around the western gulf coast of Florida, somewhere about Tampa on 8 PM Wednesday? Well, Dad's working over in Orlando right around 8 PM on Wednesday.

And despite his admonitions that he'll "whup that storm a new butthole," I still think he'd rather it meander another direction, owing to that he's aiming to fly out Thursday morning.....

He wants to be back in Tennessee to watch Seinfeld re-runs on Channel 61.

My suggestion that perhaps a station in Orlando shows Seinfeld re-runs was met with a punch to the nuts for "blasphemy."

And it didn't occur to me until later that if a hurricane goes through, some power will be out, and most TV channels would forego Seinfeld re-runs in favor of some manner of "hurricane news."

Timing

Timing

How's this for timing? I had the Cubs/Cardinals on in the background, and remembered that the Emmys were on, and turned on just in time for both Colbert and Stewart...and I also get to see the little montage where they pay a second's tribute to all the personalities in their field who've passed in the last year?

Score.

Presidential Re-Run

Presidential Re-Run

Tommy got his big dumb ass sunburned all to kingdom come at a Chattanooga Lookouts game. And while there is a post ensuing concerning watching a 112 lb. woman eat 62 Krystal hamburgers in 8 minutes, tonight, you'll have to be satisfied with a re-run from September 2004. I did a lot of research for that post, so you bastards pay attention:

How the Presidents Died

Here's how the Presidents of the U.S. who served before my birth died.

1. George Washington (pneumonia)
2. John Adams (old age, heart condition)
3. Thomas Jefferson (alcohol poisoning)
4. James Madison (Syphilis)
5. James Monroe (Syphilis)
6. John Quincy Adams (Bear Attack)
7. Andrew Johnson (Poltergeist)
8. Martin Van Buren (Syphilis)
9. William Henry Harrison (Stupidity)
10. John Tyler (Still alive, and living in Wahoo, Nebraska)
11. James K. Polk (Spider Attack)
12. Zachary Taylor (Assassinated by the Yakuza)
13. Millard Fillmore (Syphilis)
14. Franklin Pierce (Frightened to Death)
15. James Buchanan (Beaten to death by midgets)
16. Abraham Lincoln (Oxidation of vital organs)
17. Andrew Johnson (Syphilis)
18. Ulysses Grant (Died when an alien burst out of his stomach)
19. Rutherford B. Hayes (Drowned in a vat of mustard)
20. James Garfield (Still alive, in the music of Johnny Cash)
21. Chester Arthur (Choked on his mustache)
22. Grover Cleveland (Syphilis)
23. Benjamin Harrison (Syphilis)
24. Grover Cleveland (Syphilis, already)
25. William McKinley (Killed by Duncan McLeod. There can be only one.)
26. Theodore Roosevelt (Still serving as U.S. President)
27. William Taft (Died in an attempt to become the world's fattest man)
28. Woodrow Wilson (Syphilis)
29. Warren Harding (Died laughing at his own middle name)
30. Calvin Coolidge (Syphilis)
31. Herbert Hoover (Beaten to death by clowns)
32. Franklin Roosevelt (Assassinated by Daddy Warbucks)
33. Harry Truman (Eaten by monkeys)
34. Dwight Eisenhower (Ripped to shreds by the Incredible Hulk)
35. John F. Kennedy (Oxidation of vital organs)
36. Lyndon Johnson (Syphilis)
37. Richard Nixon (Syphilis)

An addendum:

In the comments to that post, many asked how Ronnie Reagan died, neglecting to realize that the list was of presidents who served before my birth in 1977.

I include him now, for you completists:

40. Ronald Reagan (Mad Cow Disease)

Gracias, and good night.

Youtube: Wilford Brimley

Youtube: Wilford Brimley

Saw this on College Humor first....

It's What's for Dinner

It's What's For Dinner



Via Warren Ellis...

Thursday's Notes

Thursday's Notes

I. A paragraph filled with parenthetical musings:

Your old pal Tommy's been working hella hard (another manager had a kid this week, so I've been covering for him), writing other junk (and after this morning's completely unproductive time spent, I emphasize the word "junk.")and working his way through Season 8 of the Simpsons (which I'm enjoying a bit more than I'd thought...still some good stuff in season 8).

II. A small twist on that first paragraph:

Actually, that last part's not true. I've not been watching the whole season. I'm watching the same episode over and over...the one where Marge becomes the "Answer Lady" at church, and Homer finds a box of Japanese Dish Detergent with his face on it.

Mostly, I just watch the part where Homer nods off in the middle of the Rev. Lovejoy's sermon, and falls forward onto the pew ahead of him, and interrupts the preaching with a surprised "Dammit!"

One of the best curses ever on TeeVee.

III. A false wrap-up:

So. There you have it.

IV. Second Beginning:

Oh. I have an outbreak of poison ivy. Which is an odd occurrence, because it doesn't normally affect me. I've literally rolled around in the junk and come away scott free. There are folks in my family who can simply look at poison ivy, and break out from head to toe, so I'm not gonna bitch much.

My outbreak is down around my ankles, which means I either picked it up in the park, where that sneaky ivy must have reached out across the path where I walk...or one of the dogs at my folks' house had just traipsed through it before it decided to sit on my feet.

V: Wrap up the post with an outrageous lie

I don't scratch the ivy. Though I'm pricechecking saw rentals, in the case I need to amputate below the knee.

Ralph

Ralph

There aren't enough people named Ralph anymore. In fact, I can't think of any time I've ever met a Ralph. I've seen them from a distance, I reckon. But I don't think I've ever had an actual meet and greet with a Ralph.

Although, if one of the previous posts is any indication, I've met several Ralphs, and in fact have known at least one Ralph well all my life, and it's slipped my shoddy memory.

Seriously, that whole "Cripes" thing, where the old guy said it, and I thought I'd never heard it before. After James mentioned the Kurt Angle thing, and Steve mentioned the fact that he says it at least once per time I see him, I'm starting to wonder if there isn't a little Mad Cow in my cheeseburgers.

So. In case I have met a Ralph, I apologize in advance for forgetting you: Sorry, I can't remember. The Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy's eaten that memory away.

Fun with YouTube: Big Van Vader

Fun with YouTube: Big Van Vader

Holy crap is there a lot of wrasslin' junk on YouTube.

Here's a neat match between the two guys I consider to be the two best superheavyweights to ever wander into the squared circle, Vader and Bam Bam Bigelow. The match is from 1988.



A couple notes: Bam Bam is just a personal favorite. I credit Bam Bam with giving ECW a lot of its credibility in the late nineties. Where a lot of big guys would have had trouble keeping up with and/or jobbing to smaller guys, Bam Bam went in and had good match after good match. He kept a badass image, and in my mind, he was able to make undersized superstars like Taz and Rob Van Dam a little more marketable.

This is Vader prior to his WCW days. He's got tremendous agility for a 350 pound man. Vader is one of the underrated ring psychologists, as well. Vader has a bit of the Jake Roberts flair for storytelling.

A lot of people blame Vince McMahon for his shitty run in the WWF in the late 90's, with Vince's unwillingness to put over a champion from another company. I blame Vince for a lot of stuff, but not Vader's relatively poor showing in the WWF. By the time Vader made it to the WWF, he was 10 years older than he was in this video, and probably 100 pounds heavier. He wasn't the same Vader. I wouldn't have wanted him in a #1 heel or face position, either.

Cripes

Cripes

I heard a customer use that word the other day. Up to that point, I'd only seen it in print, mostly in comic books that wanted to have a curse word that wouldn't get parents too pissed to read.

He was an older feller with a thick accent I placed somewhere in the Philly/South Jersey area....he reminded me of my grandfather, actually.

He said it in a personal response to a request from a lady I assume to be his wife. He seemed horribly put upon as he said it.

I'm trying to find a way to work it into my lexicon.

That and "Zounds!"

An old joke...

An old joke...

I was trying to remember this one the other day:

There are two Mexicans who have been lost in the desert for weeks and they're at death's door. As they stumble on, hoping for salvation in the form of an oasis or something similar, they suddenly spy through the heat haze a tree off in the distance.

As they get closer they can see that the tree is draped with rasher upon rasher of bacon. There's smoked bacon, crispy bacon, life giving juicy nearly- raw bacon, all sorts.

"Hey, Pepe" says the first bloke "Ees a bacon tree!!! We're saved!!!"

"You're right, amigo!" says Pepe.

So Pepe goes on ahead and runs up to the tree salivating at the prospect of food. But as he gets to within five feet of the tree, there's the sound of machine gun fire, and he is shot down in a hail of bullets.

His friend quickly drops down on the sand and calls across to the dying Pepe.
"Pepe!! Pepe!! Que pasa hombre?"

With his ! dying breath Pepe calls out... "Ugh, run, amigo, run!! Ees not a Bacon Treee.

"Eet's...Eet's...Eet's... a.... Ham bush!"

Thought on a baseball game

Thought on a Baseball Game

I made it to the 16th inning of last night's Cubs/Astros game. At 1, I'd been awake 20 hours, and had slept seven hours over the previous sixty, so I had to call it a night. The banter between Bob Brenly and Len Kaspar started to sound like I was underwater, and they were yelling at me from above the surface. I quickly realized that I'd fallen asleep with my head in my footbath again, and that I needed to sleep in my bed.

And if I were an Astros fan, and saw my team get a man on third with one out with a game on the line, and not get out of the inning with a win, I'd have shot my TeeVee. One of those rare occasions where the Cubs actually executed like they needed to.

Who else stood and cheered when Clemens got plunked?

Who else said when Ryan Theriot came up to bat that he needed to watch out?

It made me laugh, though, that even with the umpire having warned Clemens and the benches, that Juan Pierre seemed even lighter on that lead foot than he normally is for the first pitch or two of his at bat...like he's ready to bail, if need be....

Monday Evening...

Monday Evening...

Some days, says the guy, you get the bear. Some days, the bear gets you.

Well today, I think I should just consider myself lucky I didn't set myself on fire by running through a campfire while running from the bear I angered by stealing its honey and punching it in the balls for good measure.

More fun with Youtube: Owen Hart

More Fun with Youtube: Owen Hart

Haven't had a wrasslin' post in a while.

I think if you were to look back into the 90's, and see a waste of talent in the former World Wrestling Federation, I think you have to look at Owen Hart. And I say that realizing that Owen spent a great deal of time in the mid and late 90's as the company's top (or near the top) heel, holding many title belts along the way.

But when I think of that late Owen Hart, I don't think of many great matches he had along the way of his WWF career. I think more of his skits, his promos and his constant antagonism of his Brother Bret.

I mean, sure, he had some great matches...he had three against his brother Bret in 1994 that stand out, one of which I call a favorite, and I remember a Raw match against Syxx-Pac (or whatever Sean Waltman was calling himself at the time) that made me just sit up on the edge of my seat, a match that was maybe 7 minutes long, but was easily the best match the WWF had on TV that night.

But for the most part, I think Owen was wasted by constantly putting him opposite larger opponents. Such is the life in the roided up WWF. Vince McMahon liked (and still likes) slow, plodding big guys. Owen's strengths were in his aerial stuff, and his acrobatic arsenal. He was a great mat wrestler, too, don't get me wrong. But his strength was in his aeriel stuff, and against big guys, it just doesn't work.

I'll admit that there was a weakness in Owen's repetoire. A couple, really.

First, Owen's brawling sucked. Owen threw girlie punches that against big guys, looked sad. If I can point to two guys of Owen's generation, of similar size and stature that made big, I'll point to Shawn Michaels and Owen's brother Bret. To my mind, their brawling skills made them believable against bigger opponents.

Also, Owen was good on the mike, and was a memorable heel. But he never had a personality that really connected with the fans. Both Bret and Shawn (Shawn to a much greater degree) had that. I think Owen's face-turn after the Bret Hart screw job shows that...after the initial positive reaction for Owen, it kind of petered out. As such, he'd have to depend on his in-ring work to speak for him.

The personality thing, I look to his brother Bret for the answer. Bret had a certain amount of in-ring gravitas that he'd earned.

The brawling, you could work around. I think Owen suffered from working maybe five years too early in the WWE. I look at guys like Chris Benoit and the late Eddy Guerrero, who had a chance to prove themselves to a national audience against guys of similar stature before moving on to bigger opponents.

We can thank ECW for showing that there was an American audience for cruiserweight matches, and Eric Bischoff's WCW for carrying that forward, and showing that a national TV audience would accept it. By doing that, giving guys like Benoit and Guerrero (and Dean Malenko, and Chris Jericho and even Rey Misterio Jr) a spotlight, they got a level of credibility as wrestlers and fighters that they might not have gotten had they consistently wrestled bigger opponents. First they fought the guys their size, which gave them a little more street cred as they began to branch out.

Owen was constantly wrestling bigger opponents. And even when he was wrestling guys his size, they were generally more mat based, brawling type guys, so Owen still didn't have a chance to shine. If Owen had a few guys like an X-Pac and a Brian Pillman and a Chris Benoit to wrestle in the WWF in 1993 and 1994, he might have had a little more in-ring credit, and not had to go into all the gimmickry and schtick to define himself. Gimmickry that ended up in his death.

I want to point out that Owen's brother Bret and Shawn Michaels both found a way to the top of the ladder, despite being smaller than the average WWF wrestler. I think that speaks especially highly of the talent of both men, and their abilities to work their styles around bigger opponents. I point to the brawling again, and if there was a weakness to Owen's in-ring game, it was his brawling. Brawling didn't seem to come naturally to Owen...where the mat-wrestling and the high-flying stuff flows in an Owen match, you can almost see him stop to think about what he has to do when he goes to punching and kicking...and to my mind, that's the stuff that should come the most easily....

The last thing I want to say is that I'm not faulting anybody for Owen's lack of spotlight. The McMahons had a product they wanted, and Owen found a place in it for himself. He carved out a niche, and people remember him even seven years later. In the dime-a-dozen world of pro wrestling, that's worth a lot.

What I wish, though, is that he was remembered more for stuff like this, a match I found on YouTube...it's Owen vs. Jushin "Thunder" Liger...and less for how he died. Owen shines in this one, and it illustrates what Owen could have done if he'd had a couple more opponents that allowed him to play to his true strengths....

Playing with Youtube

Playing with Youtube

More than anything, I'm just testing to see if I'm doing it right, posting a video.

But I found this one at Kung Fu Monkey, and laughed myself almost sick...the bit where Vader stares at the Imperial Officer...that's beautiful...

A Lie, a re-run

A Lie, a re-run

From November 2005:

Back in the late nineties, I spent a few years knocking around the boxing circuit.

My nickname was "Sweet Yellow Cornbread."

Sweet, because I was lovable, because I was a student of the sweet science, and also because I could punch hella hard with my fists. I was hell with my fists. I never got the whole "sweet" = "Badass" but, you know, I just went with it. I put more than a few men down for the count with my fists. I was a student of the game, but mostly I was a puncher.

And I was called Cornbread because I was white. Let's face it. There aren't a lot of white fighters, nowadays. It was what identified me to fans, more often than not. So, that's where you get "bread." I gotta lot of "Wonderbreads" and "Whitebreads" and "Cracker" and "Blue-Eyed Devil" as I came up through the ranks. But I was known behind the scenes for cracking a lot of stupid, corny jokes. Hence: Cornbread.

And I was called Yellow because I was cowardly. I spent much of the fight running from my opponent. Screaming. Hands in the air.

It was very much my strategy to see if I could wear my opponent down by having him run himself stupid chasing me.

It's tougher than you think. You try screaming and running around your room for three minutes straight, and see if you aren't worn out.

Then try it with a mouthguard, being chased by a 248 pound man who's trying to punch you to death.

However, my plans worked on more than one occasion, believe it or not.

Coming up into my last fight, I had a record of 16-1. That one loss? I lost on purpose. All I'll say is that I got hit in the gut one good time, and I felt a turdle head poke out. I wasn't sure exactly what had happened back there, but I decided to take a ten count, just to keep from crapping my pants live on pay per view.

Yeah. Good record. I retired after my last bout. I was beaten into a coma by Vitaly Klitschko, in our bout in 1999.

It's why everything smells like vanilla to me.

One Book Meme

Book Meme

Well, I gots the interweb in the new digs. For the first time in a couple of years, I get to enjoy the wonders that are High Speed Internet.

So. I'll keep this quick, as there's stuff to look at and watch over at Youtube.

Via Dave, we have a book meme:

1. One book that changed your life:

The Quickening by Art Bell.

A close second: The Coming Global Superstorm by Art Bell and Whitley Streiber.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once:

See above.

Also: The Novelization to Porky's 2: the Next Day.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island:

I dunno. I think I'd have to choose the Collected Works of Beverly Cleary.

4. One book that made you laugh:

The Last Commissioner by Fay Vincent.

5. One book that made you cry:

My folks had this giant World Atlas, that was Hardbound, measured 2' by 1 1/2', and weighed approximately 28 pounds. I accidentally whacked myself in the nuts with it once in high school, when looking to settle a bet as it concerned the existence (or non-existence) of "Truth or Consequences, New Mexico." I cried then.

Also, Where the Red Fern Grows. I read that one once every six weeks. To keep myself humble.

6. One book that you wish had been written:

I misread the question. I'm tired. I read it as "the one book you wish you had written...." Here is my answer for it, and the answer to the actual question follows:

The Da Vinci Code. Because with nary so much as a wisp of talent, Dan Brown wrote one of the most fun books I've ever read. The rest of his stuff is absolute shit, and I can't point out what's so different about The Da Vinci Code...it actually kinda bugs me, because I feel like I'm a better writer by a head and a shoulder, yet it's this guy who makes a bajillion point three dollars.

Plus, he probably get to meet Audrey Tautou. That would be awesome.

Now to answer the actual question:

How to Discipline Other People's Children. I wish somebody had written a book that showed me how I might find a way to punish other people's kids without facing "the law."

7. One book that you wish had never been written:

Any of the books where Frank and Joe Hardy met Nancy Drew. I felt like it was an insult to all three characters.

Especially Joe.

8. One book you’re currently reading:

A Simple Plan by Scott Smith

and

Accidental Genius by Marshall Fine. It's about John Cassavetes. Wasn't digging it at first, but it's grown on me....

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read:

Eh. I've got a whole frigging bookshelf of books I've been meaning to read. I just lugged them from one end of the county to the other. There was one day last week where I think I'd have as soon shot them out of a cannon as read any of the heavy-ass things...honestly, why couldn't I have been an illiterate boob?

For lack of a better answer, I'll say You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers, because it's the one that's sitting on the top of the pile.....

Updates, and Shit

Updates, and Shit

Well, there was supposed to be internet at the new place as of today, but the cable in my new digs does not seem to be up to task.

This is even more annoying than the fact that the light switch in the bathroom is damn near impossible to find in the middle of the night when you gotta take a piss.

Biblical Rerun

Biblical Rerun

From August of 2003, when I had some overblown idea about reading through the Bible and giving commentary along the way...that overblown idea lasted all of a couple of posts, but it did bring forth this probing thought:

A Little Biblical Commentary:

Genesis 17:23--On that same day, Abraham obeyed God and circumsised his son Ishmael, and all the other males in his household, including the slaves born in his home, and those he had bought.

Man. That had to be a rough and confusing day to those males within the household not recieving the Word of God direct from the Maker hisself. That's what you call a leap of faith, letting Abraham cut pieces off your pecker just because he says "God told me to."

Chapter MMCCCIV

Chapter MMCCCIV

Today, Corn on the Cob is #1.

Fight anybody who tells you different.

In which we embiggen our lexicon

In which we embiggen our lexicon

Today's new word.

Flebly: adv. from the root "fleb."

If something is done "flebly," it is done simultaneously and intentionally weakly, limply and in a weak-willed manner.

Now we use it in a sentence:

Festus shook my hand flebly. I took this as an insult to my Lithuanian heritage, so I poked him in the eye with my fist, seven or eight times. Bond has been set at $8,000. Would you and Dad come bail me out?

In Which I Participate in the Electoral Process

In Which I Participate in the Electoral Process

In case in of my fellow Tennesseans still have yet to vote today, and you're looking for just the right candidate for you State Senate race, you can always write-in Thomas E. Acuff...

Just sayin'. I'd like more than one vote.

Yep. I voted today. Since all the candidates in most races strike me as redneck, rightwing, ultrareligious carbon copies of each other, I took the liberty of writing myself in in that State Senate race.

Actually, when I wasn't writing in names or voting against the incumbent on general principals, I did vote on a few key issues.

Didn't care for the fact that one of the folks running for State Representative spouts his support for Public Education, yet homeschools his kids, so I voted for Bob McKee.

Voted for Carl Mashburn for our Highway Commissioner, mostly because he's running as an Independent, but also because I didn't care for the groundswell of letters-to-the-editor that have shown up in support of the incumbent who's run basically on the strength of the statement "I been doin' the job for 22 years!"

And I voted for one guy because his name was "Chan," and I believed that he'd do most of his own stunts.

Anyway. This wasn't the election for me. There's a push to get package stores on the ballot for November. THAT's the election you have to make sure to vote on.

Because we're tired of driving to Turkey Creek or Ooltewah.

Yep. This post where I show my asinine attempts at humor and derailing the political process has officially petered out.

You guys have a good day....

In Which We Ask the Padre for a Prayer...

In Which We Ask the Padre for a Prayer...

Dear Jeebus:

I ain't bullshitting about this heat. I'm over it, Jeebus. This is getting old, all this sweating and having to peel my underwear out of the crack of my ass every three minutes. I don't have talcum powder in my monthly budget. Please do something forthwith.

(I think I could deal better with a plague of locusts, or perhaps frogs, than this heat, oppressive as the feudal system. Not boils, though...if the alternative to all this brain-damaging heat is a plague of boils, I'll take the heat.

Though should you decide to smash New York with a giant man made of marshmallows, I think that'd be cool.)

Most Sincerely,

Tommy

Veto

Veto

Alrighty. This joke's not funny anymore. Let's get this summer bullshit out of the way. This mess where I can just stand out on the carport and watch the sweat bead out of the pores on my arm just won't do. I am over it. Seriously, I've worked hard to put those liquids and fats into my body, and I can't afford for some overworked climate condition to let me sweat Crisco all over the carport.....

And the real pisser of the whole deal is that I've just been taking stuff to the dump, and to the folks at Goodwill. I haven't even gotten into the real heavy lifting of moving, yet. That's tomorrow.

I think I'm going to use the rest of the day to enjoy the modern wonder that is Central Air.

If you're looking for me, I'm the guy who'll be sitting in the frigidaire.....