Last Words

So we're saying goodbye to 2006.

I want this article from the LA Times to help me say goodbye.

Racism is a sticky subject. (Not the good kind of sticky.) Seems like no matter what a moose says, someone is calling him a racist. But FUCK. I'm not even the same species as you. How can I care that you're all sorts of funny colors, with funny eyes, and funny hair?

Read the big long article. It's good. It says what I think, that not every bad thing that happens to you is because of your race. Yes, that goes for all of you, even the white guys getting hosed.

I'll come back to this subject later. But right now, I need some champagne, then I need to go... um... amuse myself.

See you next year.

Three Little Piggies

Today we have pig races in protest of a mosque, the wife of Tiger Woods in pig, and confirmation that Mike Tyson is still a pig.

--A man unhappy with an Islamic association's plans to build a mosque next to his property has staged pig races as a protest during afternoon prayers.

Craig Baker, 46, sold merchandise and grilled sausages Friday for about 100 people who showed up in heavy rain. He insisted he wasn't trying to offend anyone with the pigs, which are forbidden from the Muslim diet.--

Guess you showed them. Except they didn't give a shit, and they weren't trying to take your property.

Only in Texas.

NEXT!

--Tiger Woods celebrated his 31st birthday Saturday by sharing some of his biggest news of the year -- his wife is expecting their first child this summer.

"Obviously, we couldn't be happier and our families are thrilled," Woods said on his Web site. "I have always wanted to be a dad. I just wish my father could be around to share the experience."

Woods and Elin Nordegren of Sweden married in October 2004, and Woods has said that he wanted children sooner instead of later. He did not say when in the summer the baby is due, although it likely would be between the U.S. Open and British Open.--

Tiger, don't take this wrong, but your dad was kind of an ass. I know you miss him, but your kid will be fine without him. Unless you decide to be an ass of a father too.

Congrats on the excellent scheduling, so if all goes as planned, you won't have to pay a bit of attention to your wife through her whole pregnancy.

Just so you know, your wife is totally hot. I'd give her a swedish massage without expecting a thing in return.

Then I'd beat off to the memories for the rest of my life.

--Mike Tyson was ordered released without bond on a felony drug possession charge Friday after an early-morning arrest in which Buckeye police said they found two bags of white powder in his back pocket.

"He said he was an addict and had a problem," according to a police probable cause statement filed in Maricopa County Superior Court. "He admitted possessing the bags of cocaine, and said he uses it anytime he can get his hands on it."--

The beauty queen raping, ear-biting sociopath still has a drug problem. No. Please, say it isn't so.

What a pig.

No (Cinnamon) Shit, Sherlock!

This is an interesting story. And by interesting, I mean stupid and obvious.

--Researchers at the University of Washington say all that holiday baking and eating has an environmental impact — Puget Sound is being flavored by cinnamon and vanilla. "Even something as fun as baking for the holiday season has an environmental effect," said Rick Keil, an associate professor of chemical oceanography. "When we bake and change the way we eat, it has an impact on what the environment sees. To me it shows the connectedness."--

So this guy went to college and got an advanced degree so he could tell us that what goes in eventually comes out?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

*spit*

*cough*

Okay, I'm better now.

How much are they paying this guy? Because I got some research of my own to offer up, and I'll fucking guarantee I'll give it up cheaper than Ricky.

You wanna know how I know when the aparagus goes on sale? My big-titted secretary's pee stinks so bad that the bathroom smells for hours.

Goes in, goes out, smells funny. Where's my god damned research grant, huh?!?!?!

I feel real sorry for the fish in the puget Sound, though. Getting all confused and maybe never swimming upstream to fuck wildly all day and all night and then die in a blaze of glory.

I don't feel sorry enough for them to stop liking cookies, though.

Baseball Suffers 'Roid Rage

They pissed in a cup. Now, the government wants their pee. KINKY!

Yeah, I know, the Boys of Summer never meant to give the Feds a golden shower. But the world is full of brain-damaged people with too much time on their hands.

--With Barry Bonds still in their sights, federal investigators probing steroids in sports can now use the names and urine samples of about 100 Major League Baseball players who tested positive for performance enhancing drugs, following a ruling Wednesday from a federal appeals court.--

(Ha ha ha. They said probing.)

So we's a-gonna solve the baseball steroid thing after long last, huh? All I can say is...

WHO GIVES A FUCK?!?!?!

You have to be blind or retarded to not realize that the sport of baseball has changed due to modern pharmaceuticals. We GET it. It's been a once-great sport turning into shit for years. This stuff is just the most recent example.

I'm not real sure why anyone cares. The baseball fans are getting what they want, a more exciting game. The owners are getting what they want, more revenue. The players are getting what they want, more attention.

Who is losing out here?

Maybe the old-school fans, and the great players from the past. I understand that. If I could go back in time, I'd wanna be Babe Ruth. Food, booze, pussy. Repeat as necessary. And still he was a great baseball player.

But that time is gone. Now we have the Age Of Enhancement. A bunch of dudes who don't play because they love the game, but because they want the fancy life that goes with it. Dudes who will use any amount - even unsafe - of any shit that they're told will make them play better.

I don't care much about baseball to begin with. But I do care about stupidity. What the fuck is the point of all the investigations? At the end of the day, it just doesn't matter.

So go ahead, federal investigators. Pore over those test results. Hit Barry Bondage up with perjury charges. Change the whole juiced-up, corrupt system. Because...

Well FUCK. You're used to worthless causes, and it's not like you have anything better to do.

Wednesday Wankings

I love to fart. There's not much in the world that feels as good as letting a fundusbuster rip. The roaring noise, the smell. Ahhhhhhhhhh...

So I can understand where this guy, Brian Bruggeman, is coming from. He obviously appreciates cutting good cheese. Unfortunately for poor Bri, he's in jail, and his cell mate appears to not really dig Bri's farts. Who can blame him? Your farts only smell good to you, not to whoever you're holding the head of under the blankets.

Dude. Knock it off, or your cell mate might cork your ass with his fist.

In other news, Michael Jackson is weird. Okay, that's not news. The news is, he's suing his accountants.

Jacko, you haven't made any good music in years. Your finances are in the toilet because you spend ridiculous amounts of money on stupid shit. You molest little boys. And you're more eccentric than Howard Hughes.

Is there any chance you could contract a fatal disease and die?

And now, two uplifting stories out of Florida. Voting rights for felons, and a kick-ass grandma who showed the bad guy who was boss.

The funny thing about Gary Siplin, who wants to let felons vote in Florida, is that he has some input, and much interest, in the matter, because he's a state Senator who happens to also be a felon.

Shit, people of Florida. THIS is the best you can find to represent you? That's pretty fucking sad.

And kick-ass grandma Ellinor Billick? Some career criminal named Tyrone Davis (wonder what color HE is?) tried to car-jack her, and she just floored it and dragged the son of a bitch until the police started chasing them. I'm guessing he's got the mother of all cases of road rash.

Rock on, Granny, and Tyrone, remember that crime doesn't pay.

And finally, two stories about being second banana.

The official John Edwards website jumped the gun, and announced that he's running for President before he got around to announcing it himself. Oops.

Even while campaigning with John Kerry in 2004, he hated being second banana. Look:



You're second banana again, John-boy, because Hillary has a bigger dick than you, and I bet that Obama guy does too.

The other second banana is an understudy who tried to poison the leading lady. Katherine Smith told a bunch of people she had the lead role, but she didn't. She was just the understudy.

So she decided it would be a good idea to spike the real leading lady's Mountain Dew with bleach.

Okay, Kate. I can't decide who's a bigger moron - you, or that doorknob who thinks he's going to be President.

I See Dead People!

Damn. James Brown went tits up on Christmas, and Gerald Ford followed him on that great chariot ride today.

I liked James Brown. He made a clumsy moose like me feel like he had rhythm. Like I had SOUL. I sheepishly admit to happily dancing around, yelling "Wow! HEH." because of James Brown.

So I'm going to miss ya, you musical wonder with the funny hair. (What the hell was that? A pompadour?) Say hello to Elvis for me when you get to that Rock & Roll Heaven place. Oh, and Jim Morrison, and Kurt Cobain, and that guy from AC/DC who drank himself to death, and...

Ah, fuck it. There's just too many of them to list. Say hi to 'em all.

Rest in peace, Godfather of Soul.

Oh, Gerald Ford. Jerry, Jerry, Jerry. You were at the helm when the ship was in very troubled waters. (That sounded kind of profound, didn't it? I felt my pee-pee get hard.)

What in the fuck were you supposed to do besides pardon Tricky Dicky? Let a former President go on criminal trial for not figuring out soon enough that some idjits on his staff colored outside the lines? Ferfuck'ssake. If we did that, just about every President ever would have spent his golden years as a guest of the federal penitentiary system.

Nah, you did fine, Mr. Ford. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

And when you get to Dead Politician Heaven, say hello to the Gipper and Barry Goldwater for me. Then go find FDR and LBJ and sucker-punch them. Thanks.

Rest in peace, and don't forget to high-five Dick. You guys did right by each other.

A Christmoose Message

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

I'm a Christmas moose, so naturally I love Christmas. Except I'm totally not into that Christ thing.

How can this be, you ask? What good is Christmas without Christ, the guy the holiday is named after? Can there be Christmas without religion? Enquiring minds want to know!

The simple answer is, Christmas means something different to me than it does to some average christian dude.

To me, it's the time of year when I came to live with my people. It's the Christmas pageant, and P3 trying to sing, and Doug Fir, and Scarface (don't ask), and cookies, and the spotted pink elephant from the Island Of Misfit Toys, and stockings hung over the fireplace. It's eggnog with just enough rum to make my loins warm, and the Polka Christmas CD, and presents, and shiny things and pretty lights.

It's also about my "family." Not a real family in the sense of biology, just a random loosely knit collection of creatures, some human, some not, all banded together to face the world. Christmas is a day to remember to appreciate each other, even though we know each and every one of us has our moments of being the most annoying fuck in the universe.

Last but sure not least, Christmas is about a warmth in my (and your) heart. It's smiling a little more, helping out a little more, maybe giving the benefit of the doubt a little more. All in an effort to make the world a happier, brighter place, even if only for a moment.

Oh, and it's about hoping I find lots of nice scented lubricants for my gherkin jerkin' under the tree. Can't forget that part. I really like the candy cane one.

Getting There Is Half The Fun

Damn. Poor ol' Colorado got a white Christmas on steroids.

This article tells us that the Denver airport is finally back on line, but there's, like, a gazillion poor fuckers who had flights cancelled during the storm, and might not get another one for days.

It's funny (not the tee hee kind of funny) how clueless people can be about travel.

--Passengers with long-standing reservations filled most of Saturday's outbound flights. Airline officials told unhappy travelers that they cannot simply bring in extra planes to clear the backlog, and that it could be Christmas -- or later -- before they can catch a plane.--

Duh, really? They can't just tell the poor bastards in Poughkeepsie, "Sorry, we're taking your plane to help the stranded passengers in Denver"?

I know families want to be together for the holidays. That's why they make airline reservations in the first place. Fuck, if I had to spend Christmas without my people, my heart would break in two and I would die.

But sometimes shit happens, especially in places with unpredictable weather. That's a risk you take when your plans involve lots of passengers all travelling at the same time, and the possibility of winter weather.

All I'm saying is, don't take it out on the nice lady furiously typing away behind the ticket counter. It's not her fault, and she's trying. She wants you gone from DIA as bad as you want to be gone from there. And if your Christmas cheer seems to be running dry, remember they have it for sale in the bars on every concourse of the airport.

Here's hoping everybody who went anywhere for the holidays, and especially the folks going to, from, or through Denver, gets to spend at least a little of Christmas day with their people.

Fat Dykes And Pricey Beef

In two related stories, a lesbian fire chief was demoted for coming on to her employees, and a restaurant is selling a hamburger that costs $110.

Okay, these stories aren't related at all, but both of them tickled my funny bone, so I figured they both needed airing. (Tee hee. I said bone.)

What's funny about the lesbo fire lady is... Well, two things. If it'd been a male fire chief sexually harassing people, the powers that be would have cut his cock off, ground it up, fed it to him, and then fired him. But since we're dealing with a woman, I guess a mere demotion and paycut is enough.

The other chuckle is, all the feminists have whiiiined for years about men sexually harassing women, and that would all change if more women were put in positions of power. Then a woman gets a position of power, and decides she wants to use her authority to diddle the hired help.

To tell ya the truth, I think lesbians should be encouraged to diddle each other on the job, but only if they're hot-looking and I can watch. That's just me, though. Fuck, I'd give my big-titted secretary as long a lunch break as she wanted if she'd promise to spend it making out with a busty blonde in front of me.

Excuse me. I need to take a moment to compose myself and wipe up the... uh, I mean, straighten my tie.

Okay, that's better. Now, moving from the tacos on to the hamburger, $110 is some SERIOUS coinage for a hamburger. I love good beef as much as the next moose, but sure to god, even in backwards ol' Indonesia you can find a top-notch burger for a lot less than that.

Especially since $110 is about three times what the peasants make a month. Not that I'm saying there shouldn't be rich people and poor people, because differences in wealth are a fact of life. But shit howdy, some ground beef and goose liver and pears (Pears?!?! What the fuck?) that costs three times the wage of the guy who mops the floor after you drooble beef juice on it seems a little... obnoxious.

As obnoxious as I am, when I say something's obnoxious, it's O-B-N-O-X-I-O-U-S.

Squid Abuse

They killed it. The fuckers killed it.

Squid are beautiful, wonderful creatures, and all they deserve is love. But a bunch of dudes with funny eyes and small penises managed to kill one in their efforts to "study" it.

--A Japanese research team has succeeded in filming a giant squid live -- possibly for the first time -- and says the elusive creatures may be more plentiful than previously believed, a researcher said Friday.

The research team, led by Tsunemi Kubodera, videotaped the giant squid at the surface as they captured it off the Ogasawara Islands south of Tokyo earlier this month. The squid, which measured about 24-feet long, died while it was being caught.--

Good job, douchebags. "Oh, we rearry rearry want to see big squid up crose, so we make it rearry rearry dead trying to catch it," they say in their broken Engrish.

Fuck, I'm even more flaccid than I was after that moose got drunk and fell through the ice. Count my moose-poker out for the rest of the decade.

Hate Crimes

A couple of gay dudes got beat up after dining at a Scottsdale steakhouse, according to this story. (Hope you're both healing quick, guys, and that the doc gave you lots and lots of good drugs.)

The men, Jean Rolland and Andrew Frost, were attacked because they're gay. That sucks, and it's really really wrong on so many levels. Who a man is playing hide the salami with is no one's business but his own.

And it's good they reported the crime, because I'm sure they were tempted to just slink off and stay outta the glaring spotlight of the media.

That's all a very long introduction to today's topic. I don't understands this whole thing about designating some crimes as "hate crimes." Seriously. Can anyone point to any crimes committed out of love?

Didn't think so. (No, "crimes of passion" don't count. That's not love. It's being a jealous asshole who can't control his temper.)

I MAYBE get designating crimes by motive, because knowing why someone did what they did could be somewhat helpful in figuring out how to keep them from doing it again, or how to keep other people from doing it.

But punishing them more severely for their motive? I'm not sure I get that.

I mean, is a man's wife any more or less dead if he killed her for the insurance money, or because he caught her getting a deep dicking from the pool boy? Are these gay fellows any more or less beat up because they got clobbered for holding hands instead of to steal their fabulous wrist watches?

I'm a fan of long prison sentences for all mean, violent assclowns. Maybe we could just leave it at that.

And just to put the whipped cream on the Chocolate... er, the conversation, I urge you to watch this video of a rather flamboyant soccer official.

It's All Part Of My Rock & Roll Fantasy

An American moose, with his hands on the wheel
Of a dream that is made of American steel...

American muscle cars make my massive moose-meat hard as a rock.

There, I said it.

It's a thing you've got to be male to understand. Sure, there are chicks who get that lusty feeling in their loins when they hear an engine's purr turn into a roar. My big-titted secretary is one of them.

But it just isn't the same. She doesn't have a dick to get all turgid. (Damn. I hope she doesn't, anyway. I'm still all messed up in the head about that dot-head runner gal who turned out to have a johnson.)

My car-lust means that naturally, I love the BJ. No, not getting a blowjob in a cool car, you perverts. The BJ. The Barrett-Jackson auto auction.

Go to their website. Look at all the awesome cars going up for auction in Scottsdale in January 2007. Do you feel your pants suddenly becoming too tight in the crotch?

If the answer is no, you're either not male, dead, or gay. Only you know for sure.

What's It Worth To Ya?

I love money. Money is good. I would love to have a gig where I get paid about a thousand bucks a day to fondle my squid and yank my crank. But nobody's ponied up to offer me that yet, so I have to resort to other ways of making a living.

I've heard lots of people say that CEOs make too much money, and teachers are underpaid. Those are two extremes, I guess. Jack Welsh vs. Miss Buttlefugger the kindergarten teacher.

So then along comes Antonin Scalia (that guy on the Supreme Court) saying in a speech that federal judges don't make enough money. (They bag $165 kilo-bucks a year.) And Peter Singer (that professor of ethics at Princeton who thinks tard babies should be dashed upon the rocks), saying in the New York Times that everybody should give 10% of their total earnings to charity.

Yeah, right. You first, motherfucker.

So we've got lots of perspectives here. Let's start with the bozos who think teachers should make as much as CEOs.

First of all, teachers aren't paid that badly. They only work about three-quarters as many days as someone who works full-time year round. Now I'm a moose, so math isn't my long suit (except when it comes to the legth of my penis), but even I can tell without causing myself a brain rupture that a teacher making $45K for nine months' work is making the equivalent of $60K annually.

Second, there's this darned pesky thing called supply and demand. Just about anybody of average intelligence could earn a teaching certificate and inflict themselves upon the youth of America. But not everybody has what it takes to be a CEO. So even if you don't think CEOs are any more important than teachers, they sure are a lot rarer, which is what the whole difference in earnings is all about.

Oh, yeah, there's another issue with teachers too. The ones that work in the government sector (public school) pretty much all have a union. That means no matter how good a teacher you are, you can't negotiate for more money. Your union representatives do the lowest-common-denominator negotiating for you. So hey, if you wanna teach and make good coin, be exceptional and find a nice ritzy private school, and you'll be all set.

Let's move on to Scalia, and his "judges are underpaid" schtick. As Bugs Bunny would say, what a maroon. Yeah, a lawyer can make more money in the private sector. But the seriously best and brightest legal minds want the opportunity to shape case law that only a judgeship can bring.

How do I know this? Two words: John Roberts. You may have heard of him. He's the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. (Hell, even *I* have heard of him, and I'm just a moose. So if you don't know who he is, please go kill yourself right now.)

Roberts is one of the most hot-shit Constitutional scholars of our age. He didn't become a judge for the money, or so he could bang his law clerks. (I know. What a waste of a boner, huh?) He became a judge because he's a law geek.

So don't worry, Tony Scalia, the bench will be just fine even though those pooooor federal judges are only bagging 165 grand.

And on to Petey Singer, who kinda pisses me off. He takes Herbert A. Simon's theoretical musings about "social capital" completely out of context in order to argue for greater philanthropy. The late Herb Simon, a Nobel prize winner in economics, was very much a capitalist. Besides being a computer genius and a psychology genius, he knew it doesn't take a genius to realize that as tax rates rise, giving to charity goes down. (Tee hee, I said "goes down.")

I could talk more about what a great man Simon was, and what a doorknob Singer is, but all this deep thinking has made me tired. I'm going to go lay down, hold my moose wang, and have a nap.

Maybe when I wake up, someone will call and offer me that dream job i was talking about.

Monday Musings

In no particular order, events around the world that caught this moose's attention:

This story tells us that, though Charles Darwin may be dead, his theories are alive and well. A whole bunch of people have died of carbon monoxide poisoning in Washington state because, in the absence of electrical service, they thought it sounded like a good idea to bring portable generators or charcoal grills into their dwellings.

You really batted one out of the park with that one, Uncle Chuck. Thank you for chlorinating the gene pool in the Seattle area.

Then we have this tidbit of news: Robert Mugabe, president of the lovely African nation of Zimbabwe, is, like, totally sorry about that little misunderstanding with the White farmers, where almost all of them were driven off their land or killed when they refused to leave.

So he wants Whitey to come back and work the land again, because the new tenant farmers don't seem to be doing an awfully good job of it, and crop yields are in the shitter.

Let us hope the displaced White farmers teach Mr. Mugabe the meaning of the phrase, "Go fuck yourself, asshole."

Here's a blurb about an airline in China that was fined by the government for selling plane tickets to certain destinations for as little as thirteen cents.

Damn. I'd heard stuff was cheap in China, but half a dozen flights for the price of a condom from a men's room vending machine? That's insane! (Not that I've ever bought a condom in a men's room, mind you. I'm just going by what I've heard.)

Then again, I think I'd rather be using a condom than sitting on an airplane full of little Chinese people, who all seem to think it's okay to fart in public and blow your nose on your hand and wipe it on your Mao suit.

This story is about the behavior of a fine upstanding young man during his sentencing for murdering a debutante when she refused to give him her purse during a robbery.

Michael Thorpe killed Jennifer Ross on Christmas Eve last year, in a park in the lovely town of Savannah, Georgia. When the judge sentenced him to life plus forty years, Thorpe shouted "Fuck democracy!" and flipped the judge the bird.

Yeah, because it's democracy that made you kill a Georgia peach on the night before Christmas, you ambulatory pile of dung.

If I were that judge, I'd have instructed those deputies to break that fucker's finger clean off as they escorted Mr. Thorpe from the courtroom.

In the "children are the future, and we're fucking them up" category is this sad tale. Some broad in Massachusetts (where else but the state where a school outlawed playing tag at recess?) only managed to produce one smart child, and her other two kids are not so smart. So she has demanded that the high school in Needham stop publishing the names of the kids who make the honor roll in the local paper.

It causes her two dull-witted offspring "stress" and "emotional pain" to see their more intelligent sibling's name in print every semester, you see. So rather than take that as a challenge to improve their own grades so they too can make the honor roll, these two future fry-cooks get mopey and depressed.

And it's Mommy to the rescue, saving them from confronting the realities of their inadequacies. These are the kind of kids that will still be living at home when they're forty, beating off to gopher porn every night while the world passes them by.

And finally, in the Dude Looks Like A Lady realm, we have this indian runner. (Dot-head indian, not woo-woo indian.)

Yup, it's just what it sounds like. She's a he.

The article doesn't say who asked for the gender testing, or why. Let's hope it didn't have anything to do with a sausage falling out of "her" running shorts at an inopportune moment.

Maybe it was something much more obvious. Ya know, a picture paints a thousand words and all that.



Juwanna? Juwanna Mann, is that you?!?!

The Tards Went Over The Mountain

The tards went over the mountain,
The tards went over the mountain,
The tards went over the mou-oun-tain,
To see what they could see.

But all that they could see,

Was the other side of the mountain,
The other side of the mountain,
The other side of the mou-oun-tain,
Was all that they could see.

Yeah, I'll admit it. I don't really "get" mountain-climbing. I mean, climbing a hill to find food, or water, or something else you might need? Sure. But going up a mountain, "just because it's there"?

Okay, sorry, but that's dumb.

And it gets even dumber when the stupid fucks get stuck, and it costs a gazillion dollars to rescue them.

Thus my moose-ire with Kelly James, Brian Hall, and Jerry "Nikko" Cooke, the popsicles on Mount Hood. (Am I the only one that finds the phrase "Mount Hood" vaguely erotic? It reminds me of that moose in europe who molested a car.)

They've been looking for these dudes for several days, and tonight, the word is, they found a frozen individual on the mountain that is "probably" one of the missing climbers. WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent, to find the human equivalent of an Otter Pop.

Why do we do this? Send in the National Guard, and send the Black Hawks and C-130s to the skies, to look for dumbasses who decided to climb a mountain when they knew a storm was coming? Don't these people engaged in a futile search have anything better to do?

The families of these lusty outdoorsman have my sympathy. But they really should have learned to accept by now that bad things sometimes happen to those who attempt spectacular ascents in the face of bad weather.

Frankly, I'd rather be masturbating. I bet those three mountaineers pretty much agree with me about now.

A Kinder, Gentler Execution?

Heh, looks like Florida and California aren't going to be executing any dirt-bag murdering pieces of human detritus anytime soon. Both states have put all pending executions on hold.

Florida quit snuffing scumbags because one of them took more than half an hour to die after they (obviously not so) lethally injected him. California's reason was that some dude on death row sued because being lethally injected might HUUUUUUUUUUUUURT.

The Future Fertilizer in question in California, one Michael Morales, raped and murdered a seventeen year old girl in 1981. Funny how he didn't seem too worried about causing someone else a painful death twenty-five years ago. But now he's all concerned about man's inhumanity to... him.

The Florida guy who took forever to die, Angel Niaves Dias, ended up on death row because he killed the owner of a titty bar during a robbery back in 1979. That means (Not An) Angel was amongst the quick for twenty-seven years after he bumped off a man who was providing a very valuable service of giving people naked ladies to look at.

(Did you notice? Hispanic surnames, both of them. You can bet I'm going to hide in the closet the next time some hispanic dude comes to the door asking if my people need any landscaping work done.)

So let's get down to the naked essentials of this issue. (Tee hee. I said naked.) There's no fool-proof guaran-goddamn-teed painless way to kill people. The state just does the best it can to do it right - to be as humane as possible.

And that's good enough for this moose.

Hell, we're giving these animals a great deal more consideration than they gave their victims. I'm sure those folks would have appreciated the fuck out of knowing the how, when, and why of their death, an additional quarter-century of life, a preacher there at the end, and a nice last meal.

But the victims didn't get that, and their killers do. So pardon me if I don't flail myself with grief about the fact that executions might not be as pleasant as a lovely day at the spa.

I Wanna Scrag A Rev'nuer

Today's bold statement: I don't think it should be against the law to take a shotgun to an employee of the Internal Revenue Service. Hell, I'm even in favor of cancelling several at a time.

There's a reason those fuckers are so hated, and it's not because people don't like paying usurious taxes. I mean, they don't, but the taxes in and of themselves aren't enough to provoke bloodshed. No, that comes from dealing with the agency's employees, the rev'nuers.

There's a few basic qualifications to become a rev'nuer. You must have an IQ of 90 or less. You must enjoy torturing puppies and kittens. You must be deaf and blind. And you have to be completely without a heart and a soul.

I'm a moose, so I don't pay taxes. But my people do, and they regularly get ass-raped with a watermelon by the rev'nuers. It just doesn't seem right. Think about it. All the retard rev'nuers have to say is, "You owe us this money," and they can take it from you by a levy, a garnishment, or just plain old stealing your stuff.

With every other kind of deal where you owe someone money, you gotta go to court. A Judge has to do what judges do... Enter a judgement. Then whoever that judgement is in favor of can go after your ass(ets).

This is America. That's the way we do things.

Except when it comes to the bottom-feeding rev'nuers, that is. Those guys don't need a warrant to look at your financial records. They don't need a judgement against you to take what's yours. They don't need anything but their retarded selves and their piss-awful attitude and their larceny-oriented mindset.

Every last one of those fuckers deserves to end up bleeding to death on the floor.

But I'm a law-abiding moose, so I'll have to settle for getting a few of them fired.

I swear, though, I'm not going to get a chubby again untile we have a flat tax, and every one of those bloodless assclowns ends up working the fryers at Pud Burger.

Democrats = Ghouls

A democrat Senator from South Dakota, Tim Johnson, has had a health crisis. At first they thought it might be a stroke or heart attack, but it turns out it was a brain hemorrhage. (Did I spell that right? Like hemorrhoid, but with an "-age" instead of "-oid", right?)

They cut his head open and fixed the bad blood vessels, and all is good. That's cool, because as a Christmas moose, I hate hearing about bad things happening to anybody in the season of my favorite holiday.

So I saw a lot of good people saying heart-felt nice things about the guy. "Aw, that sucks." "Hope he's better soon." "He and his family are in my thoughts/prayers/healing masturbation ritual." Stuff like that.

Funny thing, though. I didn't notice any of Senator Johnson's fellow democrats saying anything like that. No, their comments were about the balance of power in the Senate. "The democrats won't be relinquishing control of the Senate any time soon." "Senator Johnson can remain in office even if he's incapacitated." "That Governor Rounds guy better not try to appoint a replacement for Senator Johnson." Shit like that.

Fucking ghouls. Seriously, the other democrats could obviously not give a shit less about the guy, except in terms of votes and committee chairmanships. It's incredibly creepy. The guy's lying there in his hospital bed, head wrapped in so many bandages he looks like a mushroom, and all those cold-blooded fucks can think about is retaining their political power.

Kinda makes you hope their brains explode too, huh?

Senator Johnson, I'm sending positive healing moose-vibes to you, and hope and faith to your family. Feel better soon.

Feliz Navidad! We Got You A Deportation For Christmas!

The ICE busted six meat-packing plants yesterday, in Greeley, Colo.; Grand Island, Neb.; Cactus, Texas; Hyrum, Utah; Marshalltown, Iowa; and Worthington, Minn. They rounded up thousands of illegals and shipped them to detention centers, on their way back to mexico, or wherever they're from. That news made my heart swell with the joy of the holidays, since it's about fucking time we started enforcing the immigration laws of this country.

This story talks about the ten-month investigation leading up to the raid, and the reaction to it in one Colorado town.

--Outside a meatpacking plant fence here ["here" being Greeley, CO -Danny], a frustrated Tony Garcia watched as Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents swarmed inside.

"We need help," he yelled to them. "We need answers."--

Here's your answer: The ICE is doing their job. You know, the job of managing the immigration situation in America.

--There were few of those Tuesday as agents began their initial sweep through Swift & Co. plants in six states, arresting illegal immigrants who had bought or stolen other people's identities to help them get Swift jobs.--

Identity theft, huh? So much for the theory that illegals are just honest, hard-working folks trying to make a better life for their families.

Newsflash, you worthless fucks. Those Social Security numbers that you are buying or stealing belong to somebody else. Unless that somebody else is stone cold dead, then the SSN is in use by its rightful owner. And you are going to cause that person a pain in the ass the size of Texas if you use it too.

Hell, even if the rightful owner IS pushing up daisies, the illegal using the number can seriously fuck things up for the surviving spouse and dependents. So hey, wetbacks. Don't use someone else's Social Security number. Come here through legal chanels, and fucking get your own.

--Garcia, who said he has friends who work at the Greeley plant, was worried about the fate of schoolchildren whose parents were arrested. "Who is going to pick them up?" he asked.--

Whatever. That'll learn 'em to be lots more careful about where they put down roots and decide to raise a family.

Seriously, people. We GET that your home country sucks hairy, sweaty balls. We get that your country's government is hopelessly corrupt, that most of your country's people live in poverty, and that you want something better for your spawn than being raised in your country.

And I want a fucking Lamborghini. Bottom line - as codified by the Rolling Stones: You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.

That is America's way of saying, we have decided to make this a miserable place for illegals. You can deport yourself, or we will do it for you. Either way, your ass be goin' home.

Now, to really make my Christmas bright, can we please arrest a few dozen of those meat-packing company executives? Not only do they put out a shitty product, they knowingly hired illegals. That's grounds for some major government hammer coming down on their asses.

Merry Christmas, Greeley Colorado, and all the other cities that saw Swift Immigrant Justice yesterday.

Rabbi Grinchman Finds A Heart

There was quite the blow-up at the Seattle airport over the weekend. Late last week, a rabbi told the Port of Seattle (that's who runs the airport) that if they didn't put a menorah up alongside all those Christmas trees, and have a lighting ceremony, he was going to sue. (Now THAT is showing your holiday spirit, dude!!! {end sarcasm})

Port of Seattle personnel responded by taking down all the Christmas trees Friday night. They said they simply didn't have time, in this, their busiest season, to deal with lawsuits and "cultural sensitivity." So they decided to just quietly take the trees down while the airport was (supposed to be) mostly empty, and revisit the issue after the New Year.

Unfortunately for the PoS and Rabbi Grinchman, a few outraged third shift employees alerted the media. The whole stealing of Christmas was caught on tape. (You know, I hate ideologue hebrews like the rabbi and his legal eagle. I much prefer the jews who would put apricot preserves in their belly button and let someone lick it out if it would earn them a few bucks.)

Ahem. Back on track. Now, I have to admit my bias here. I am a Christmas moose. Christmas is my favorite time of year. I wouldn't care if all I had to celebrate with was a can of Vienna sausages and a fifth of Jack Daniels, as long as my big-titted secretary and the rest of the creatures I love were there with me to share the joy of the season.

So people like Rabbi Grinchman and his lawyer and all their dick-sucking lackeys piss me off. They decry the hate mail the rabbi received, and pop off with gems such as:

"In fact, our Constitution says: what one religion gets, another should get as well. What about that is so hard to understand?"

No, no it doesn't say that. It says:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Putting it simply for the idiots in the cheap seats, that means the government can't tell folks what religion to follow, or that they can't practice a particular faith. Neither of those adds up to requiring public places to give equal billing to all religions.

Fuck, I'm just a moose, and even *I* understand that.

Or this bit of moronification:

"Every single person who says that it's ok to put up only Christmas trees in a public, and most of all publically owned and financed, space, is basically saying that Christianity should be allowed to have preferential treatment under the law. There is simply no escaping this implication, no matter how much nonsense is spouted about how they're pagan symbols and how Christmas is basically a secular holiday."

Frankly, I don't see why Christmas SHOULDN'T receive preferential treatment in public holiday displays. 80% of the population self-identifies as Christian, 96% of the population celebrates Christmas, and Christmas is the only federally recognized holiday in the month of December. It's not like I'm deprived of receiving my deluge of fan mail for a whole day because the mailman gets Kwaanza off. Oh, and let us not forget that there are those in the remaining 4% that don't celebrate Christmas who put up a tree anyway.

Bottom line is, Christmas is the shit, and Christmas trees are a symbol of Christmas.

(Whew. All those statistics make my boner wilt. There's only one statistic that matters... The size of my penis. But you knew that.)

Anyway, all Constitutional bickering aside, it looked like Christmas was cancelled at SeaTac, until a beacon of hope shown throught... The rabbi withdrew his threat of a lawsuit. And late last night, the trees were put back up.

Rabbi Grinchman and his lawyer considered the decision to not sue to be a defeat. But I don't see it that way. I see all the thousands and thousands of people who will pass through SeaTac in the next few weeks, their weary faces made bright and happy by the pretty trees with their beautiful lights. And that makes me glad that Rabbi Grinchman found his heart.

Merry Christmas, Seattle.

Feminists, Homos, And Fabulous Leather Products

On several unrelated subjects:

Feminists are weird people. I mean it. They don't groove on the same plane that a normal moose like me does.

Don't get me wrong. Feminists have their purpose. For example, how could we possibly appreciate females who don't want to cut our sausages off, if we didn't have the psycho dykes who do?

But, ya know, some of the shit they say is freaky. It's like they wake up every morning, shout "Men are the enemy!", and go on about their day.

The thing that kind of set me off on the femifreaks was reading about how lots of them support Hillary in her run for the Presidency. This puzzles me because I think Hillary has them all fooled. I'm pretty sure she's a man.

And she's not even one of those sensitive, limp-wristed men either. She's the kind of man who would rip another man's balls off and stuff them down his throat if he looked at her wrong.

So this moose is confused. Since Hillary embodies everything that's supposed to be wrong with men, and given that she most likely has a penis bigger than the late John Holmes, what exactly do the feminists see in her? If they want a woman with a penis, they can bring Al Gore back for another run at the Oval Office.

Speaking of sexual freaks, did you know soy makes you gay? Yup, it's true. They did a study. (Who the fuck thinks up these studies anyway? "Hey Marv, let's do a study to see if too much broccoli makes you hate the Pittsburgh Steelers.")

So yeah, too much tofu and soy milk in your youth can turn you into a boy pole-smoker or a girl rug-muncher. On some strange level, that makes sense. Because only weird people feed their kids soy milk and tofu.

One more small item. (Everyone who mumbled "Your penis?" is going to be struck down by the mighty sword of Moose-Thor.) No, something even more important than the whale in my pants. The Supreme Court is going to hear a price-fixing case.

For the Supremes to take it on, it must be important, right? Gasoline, perhaps, or building materials, or the wholesale price of soybeans that make you gay?

Nah. Don't be silly. It's some high-end leather goods outfit. (No, not THAT kind of leather goods, you perverts.) Leather... Hell, I don't know. Clothes and purses and stuff, I guess.

Manufacturer won't sell to distributors that retail the "fine leather goods" at a discount. One distributor held a sale, got no more deliveries of goods, and sued. To which I say:

Ohferfuck'ssake! Who gives a shit?!?!?! It's a god damned handbag. Let the free market reign. Seriously. The world will not come to an end if the government stays out of the leather apparel pissing contest.

And SHIT! Does the Supreme Court really have nothing better to do than deciding cases like this?

Well Ain't THAT The Shit

Admit it. You laughed when you read this story. You didn't want to, but you did.

--Police say Joe Jackson was turned away at least once Friday as he tried to get to the high-rise office of a patent lawyer he had a grudge against. He didn't have an appointment.

When he came back that day, Jackson had attorney Michael R. McKenna's business card in his pocket and a manila envelope in his hand. He got close enough to a security guard to jam a revolver hidden in the envelope into his side.

That's how Jackson, also armed with a knife and a hammer, made it to the 38th floor of the Citigroup Center. He chained and locked a law-firm door before going on a 45-minute rampage, killing three people, including McKenna, and wounding a fourth.

His bullets sprayed the offices with blood and broken glass. One victim was left dead in a hallway, Cline said. And as he terrorized office workers he made sure they heard his complaint: He claimed he had been cheated over an invention, a toilet designed for a truck.--

When you first heard there was a shooting at a law firm specializing in patents, you figured it was some kind of dispute over an invention, right? Maybe something to do with computers, or big-screen TVs, or something else high-tech?

Then you found out it was about toilets, and you tried really hard not to laugh, but you power-sprayed your Diet Coke all over your monitor anyway. Tell the truth, now. You did, didn't you?

It's kinda funny that his name was Joe Jackson, too. "If you build it, they will come." Conjures up a picture of some truck driver beating off while he sits on his fancy on-board toilet.

(Not that I would ever beat off while I was doing my moose business. No siree. That's just plain gross. Although ya gotta admit, spanking the monkey and taking a rich and satisfying poop are pretty much two of the best sensations out there. Just not at the same time. Ewwwwwwwwww...)

And on that note, I'm going to lay my tired antlers down to sleep, so I can face a new week with a gleam in my eye and starch in my Wonder Wiener.

It's Always Shitty In Philadelphia

It's the 25th anniversary of the death of Daniel Faulkner.

If you're a brain-dead fucktard who loves cop-killers, you may have attended one of these events. Those were gatherings for morons who chant "Free Mumia!"

Now, when I say I'm going to free Mumia, it means I'm going to take a mega-moose dump. Other phrases I'm fond of for that activity are pinching a loaf, and dropping the Huxtables off at the pool.

But that's not what these do-gooders mean when they say free Mumia. They mean that Mumia Abu-Jamal, a man who killed Officer Daniel Faulkner in cold blood on a chilly Philadelphia night twenty-five years ago, should be let out of prison.

The pile of physical evidence doesn't sway Mumia's supporters. The bunch of eye-witnesses don't either. They call him a political prisoner. They call him a victim of the racial tensions in Philly a quarter century ago.

I call bullshit.

The "Mumia didn't do it" twits no doubt play regular tonsil-hockey with the "OJ didn't do it" twits. The only difference between them is that Mumia's attorneys couldn't put together a black jury to wrongfully acquit his ass for political reasons.

So why is this bastard still breathing? Mumia killed a COP, ferfuck'ssake. How in the hell has he managed to avoid his dispatch to hell for so long?

Because the usual suspects took up his cause. Hollywood and a stinking pile of euro-trash all rallied 'round. Fuck, the french even named a street after him. Way to go, you cheese-munching faggots.

I'd love to sharpen my antlers and gore the whole bunch of them to death.

What does it matter, though? He's never getting out, right? So let's all just forget trying to fry his dread-locked ass and move on, right?

Wrong.

It matters because of stories like this.

--City prosecutors struggled in a high-profile case this week to get fearful witnesses to stick to their stories, finding a deeply entrenched "code of silence" at work even in the slaying of a 5-year-old girl.

In an example of witnesses "going south," or recanting testimony, four key witnesses in the September 25 drive-by shooting of Casha'e Rivers took the stand in city court and withdrew statements they previously gave police.

In the most striking reversal, a witness whose statement was videotaped by police one day after the slaying told the judge he had just told police what they wanted to hear and that his detailed account of events wasn't true.--

There's a message in this for the powers that be in Philly. If a COP KILLER can't even be brought to justice, why should the average citizen help the legal establishment convict some crazy violent mother-fucker who's just gonna come after them?

Justice in Philadelphia is dead.

Evil Wal-Mart And Pee-Pee Touching

I hate Wal-Mart. But I like having my pee-pee touched. But only when I want my pee-pee touched. So this story made me sad, because the little boy didn't want his pee-pee touched.

--Four-year-old Dean Rickabaugh Jr. believed he was big enough to use the Wal-Mart restroom by himself.

Polk County court papers say the boy, then a few days shy of his birthday, argued repeatedly with his mother to let him go to the bathroom alone on June 27, 2004. The mother, Jackie Ashley, wanted her son to use the women's restroom with her at the Altoona store. But the boy, also known as D.J., won the argument.

Ashley has acknowledged that she feared something bad would happen to D.J. if she let him go to the restroom alone, but she nevertheless let him go, Lederer told jurors. Likewise, D.J. has told Wal-Mart lawyers that he was turned down when he asked his father to take him to the men's restroom.--

Okay, it's time to play What's Wrong With This Picture?

What the fuck kind of mother argues with a four year old, not to mention caves to his argument? What the fuck kind of father refuses to take his kid to the shitter?

I loved the part about Mommy & Daddy's substance abuse problems, too. You can almost see it. The poor kid tells them that someone did "bad touch" on him in the men's room, and they're too drunk and/or stoned to care. All they can think is, "Yee-HAW!! It happened at Wal-Mart. We done won the Lawsuit Lotto now!"

Howzabout instead of letting these ass-weevils sue the store for something that is entirely the fault of the so-called parents, we take the kid away from the ass-weevil parents, and place him with decent folks? With luck, he'll quickly get past his shitty experince and his shitty upbringing to date. And in a dozen or so years, he can appreciate what pee-pee touching is really all about.

Mormons Are Weird

It's funny to see Mormons riding around on their missions, furiously peddling their bicycles while wearing a crisp white shirt with a tie when it's 115 degrees outside.

But this story isn't quite so funny.

--A woman whose parents are charged with kidnapping her to stop her wedding testified tearfully Wednesday that they grabbed her by the hair and told her she was breaking the commandment to honor them.

Lemuel Redd, 59, and his wife, Julia, 57, of Monticello, pleaded not guilty and were ordered to stand trial after the testimony from their daughter, Julianna Redd Myers, 21.--

I'm not totally sure that's what the commandment about honoring thy father and mother meant. Fortunately, Jesus works at the 24-hour taco emporium up the road. So I'll ask him.

Just kidding. But seriously, do Mormons WANT us to think they're weird? It's not like they don't get enough bad press, with those polygamy dudes and that funky underwear. Now they're committing felonies to make sure their Mormon spawn don't marry the "wrong" person?

Shit, people. She married a Mormon dude. In the Mormon temple. What the hell is the problem?



P.S. Your funky underwear could never contain the glory of the Moose Crank!

Crazy People Shouldn't Breed

Did you ever want to take a shotgun to somebody?

I have that urge more than I should, but this little glimpse into just how fucked up some people are nearly made me pass the ammo and fail to praise the moose.

--Wanting to have children who follow in one’s footsteps is an understandable desire. But a coming article in the journal Fertility and Sterility offers a fascinating glimpse into how far some parents may go to ensure that their children stay in their world — by intentionally choosing malfunctioning genes that produce disabilities like deafness or dwarfism.--

That's just so fucked up. There's so many people who want nothing more than a healthy, normal child. And then there's these freaks, who are deliberately creating defective children.

Yeah, I called them freaks. Crazy fuckers, even. News flash, assholes: Deafness and dwarfism aren't "cultures." They're handicaps. Fucking physical short-comings, you imbeciles.

Genetic science exists to breed bad shit OUT of the gene pool, not breed it in. Any doctor who would be a party to deliberately creating a fucked-up kid is so ethically bankrupt, he needs to surrender his medical license. And parents who would do this need to be prosecuted for child abuse.

Gack. I can't even talk about this anymore. I might never achieve another erection. I'll come back to the subject later.

The End Of The Peanut Drama?

The peanut mommies, whose whole lives are wrapped up in making other people miserable because of their kids' food allergies, may be on the brink of their Waterloo. This article talks about a study showing there might be a way to fix their immuno-deficient spawn.

--In severely allergic children, a trace of peanut or smidgen of egg can trigger a deadly reaction. But new research by Duke physicians suggests a way out: feeding children gradually increasing amounts of the foods that sicken them.--

Yeah, I can hear the whining objections already. "My child is far too allergic for this to work."

Uh, no he's not. The peanut mommies are just addicted to the attention. "My child is SPECIAL! You have to accommodate him!!!" A moose has to wonder if these attention whores ever wish their kidlets were special in the GOOD way, instead of the "more annoying than that Barbie Girl song" way.

There's a bigger picture here, almost as big as my mondo moose-wang. If itty bitty smidgens of peanut can fix an allergy, by EXPOSURE to the "bad stuff," how come exposure to the "bad stuff" isn't considered an important part of raising a kid with a healthy immune system in the first place?

The more that the Boy In A Plastic Bubble mentality flourishes, the more sick young'uns there's going to be. It's only obvious. To me, anyway. How about to you?

So hey, Clean Freak Mommies. Do the world a favor. Let your kids get dirty. Let 'em be exposed to a germ or two. Don't raise them to be like Howard Hughes, except without the money, the cool airplanes, and the opportunity to put the wood to Hollywood starlets.

I'm not saying to feed them raw chicken or anything. That'd be just gross. But shit. Don't tell them there's danger in every mud-pie either. Because there isn't.

The Supremes Take On The Board Of Education

Oh, boy. Here we go.

--The US Supreme Court will step into a political minefield of race on Monday when it hears two cases testing the constitutionality of public school integration.

The cases – in which primarily white parents are challenging school desegregation programmes in Louisville, Kentucky and Seattle, Washington – could set historic new guidelines for how and when race can be used to integrate America’s rapidly resegregating schools.--

I don't have kids, and even if I did, they wouldn't attend public schools, because we live in a horribly species-ist society. But I find the debate about "racial balancing" of public schools interesting anyway, because it proves one axiom of human nature:

You can't make people do what they don't want to.

The seventies were spent bussing white kids all across hell's half acre, and STILL the white families found numerous ways to keep their kids out of predominantly minority schools. Talk about a failed social experiment. No matter what you do, short of telling white folks that they're not allowed to send their kids to private school and not allowed to move, White Flight is going to happen.

There ARE ways of enticing whites to remain in their current neighborhoods, or agree to having their kids bussed to far-away mostly minority schools. But that would involve implementing school choice, and thus competition. And the same people who don't mind putting other people's kids on a school bus for three hours a day, would rather be ass-raped with a saguaro than allow any meaningful form of school choice.

And why do the do-gooders want to ground White Flight anyway?

--Scores of civil rights and academic organisations are lobbying the Supreme Court to uphold the Louisville and Seattle racial-balancing plans, arguing that integrated education improves the academic performance of minority students, and yields other less easily quantifiable benefits such as better race relations and less tension in the workforce.--

That's nice. What about the white students who perform poorly academically because when they're sent to a predominantly minority school, they spend a good part of their day being dangled out the bathroom window by their ankles?

This article, along with talking about the various protests going on outside the Supreme Court while they hear the case, also provides a very simple and condensed explanation of the purpose of the policies.

--The school policies in contention are designed to keep schools from segregating along the same lines as neighborhoods. In Seattle, only high school students are affected. Louisville's plan applies systemwide.--

Um, don't most home-buyers with kids consider which neighborhood school their crotch-dumplings will be attending to be, like, practically the most important consideration when they decide where to buy? I think if I were them, I'd be righteously pissed if I'd taken on a huge mortgage and usurious property taxes, only to be told my sproggie wasn't the right color to go to the coveted neighborhood school.

Clearly it's time for me to put my "I'm a simple moose" hat on again. If I was one of the Supremes, this would be a no-brainer. If a school can't turn someone away for being too black or too brown, then by god, they shouldn't be able to turn someone away for being too white.

Maybe it's time to stop parsing everything out by race, and just agree that we all like to masturbate, and that no one in this discussion has any evil intent.

Good luck, Supremes. Please decide this one way or the other. Namby-pamby solutions aren't solutions at all.

El Presidente

So the other day, I was talking a little bit about Barack Obama. That kind of got me to thinking.

Why the hell does anyone want to be President, anyway?

I guess I understand liking the power. Deciding the course of world affairs. Wielding the Veto Pen Of Death. Being able to grant pardons to ANYBODY. Tooling around in Air Force One. Having your itchy little finger on that button that lobs the nukes at North Korea, and makes the Jong Dong shut the fuck up once and for all.

But frankly, I'd rather be making the Moose Dong spit.

Think about it. No matter how good a job you do as President, a whole bunch of people are still going to piss and moan about what a shitty job you're doing. You and your family have no privacy whatsoever. You will age five years for each year in office. You'll have to kiss countless smelly babies on the campaign trail. Hundreds of crazy people will fantasize about killing you, and a few might actually try it.

Not seeing the upside here.

I look at guys like McCain and Guliani, and I think, Haven't you done enough? Your public service has been commendable. Now go kick back, relax, and lick brandy off the nipples of busty hookers or something.

It's what I would do.

Mary Jo Kopechne Turns 65

Oh, wait. That's wrong. Mary Jo Kopechne will never turn 65, because she's dead.

I read in a hit piece on Ted Kennedy that the late Mary Jo would have turned 65 this month. Old enough to get her some of that Social Security before the Ponzi scheme goes totally bust. Old enough to enroll in Medicare. Old enough to get the really good swag from the AARP when she paid her annual dues.

But none of that's ever going to happen, because Teddy got all drunked up and drove off a bridge and killed her.

Must be nice to be a Kennedy. They're like rabbits. Shit doesn't stick to their fur. No matter what they do, they're forgiven, and everybody still loves them. Kind of like a cross between Ted Bundy and Mr. Rogers.

(And for the record, the above was not an admission that my shit sticks to my fur. Because it doesn't. Usually, anyway.)

Anywho, back to the Kennedys. I can't decide which one of them caused the most unpleasant sensation in my shorts. It's a toss-up between the baby-sitter-fucker who cancelled himself by skiing into a tree, and the wanna-be pilot who cancelled himself, his wife, and her sister when he lost his horizon.

Someone I like and respect pointed out the obvious when John-John & The Gals went splat into the ocean. The whole fucking Coast Guard was out looking for the sea pizzas. If it had been you or me, we'd have rated a one-eyed seaman in a dinghy. (Hee hee. I said seaman.)

I guess that's my and the rest of the unenlightened's way of saying we don't get the big deal about the Kennedys. They don't seem like very good people. Good people don't leave busty blondes to drown in a pond. So why does everybody hump on the their legs like sex-crazed german sheperds?

Especially when they have man-boobs like Teddy's:



Yeah, I clawed my eyes out with my hooves. I feel better now.

The Fun Police

Why is everybody trying to make the world less fun?

Seriously, everywhere you look, everything you read or hear, someone is trying to be a kill-joy. Telling people what and what not to eat. Telling kids how to play. In short, wrapping the whole fucking world in a giant anti-bacterial condom made of bubble wrap.

I was reading about a trend across the nation for school districts to ban birthday celebrations altogether, or make them more healthy. Instead of cupcakes or giant cookies, the parents are instructed to send in veggies and dip, or hummus and pita. Oh, what a joyful celebration THAT would be.

Or they are told to send non-food items, such as stickers or pencils. Talk about sucking the joy out of the day.

And don't even get me started on the peanut nazis. Peanuts and peanut butter are staples of childhood. An entire generation doesn't deserve to be deprived of the wonder of peanuts because some kid has a defective immune system.

Children don't get to play cool games or have cool toys anymore either. Can't have them having fun playing dodgeball, no siree, because one of the twenty-five kids involved in the game is the fat one curled up on the floor crying while he's mercilessly pelted with red rubber balls. (Heh. I said rubber.)

And every single toy with any merit to it has either been deemed too violent, dangerous, a choking hazard, or some such other bullshit. The war on fun continues.

And that's just the Fun Police turning kids into happiness-free little fucks. But they're not content to stop there. Nope, gotta ruin it for us grown-ups too.

I just love that when they tell us what and what not to eat, the advice is always based on the results of a government-funded study. I'm thinking they should just give the money to me, and I'll tell them for free that Big Macs make you fat.

Here's the deal. We already know what's bad for us, and we don't care. We're going to do it anyway. (Okay, there's a segment of the population that doesn't know, but they're so pathetically stupid that they don't deserve to live, so it's no loss.)

Now personally, I'm a moose of simple, yet expensive tastes. I'm easily satisfied with the best, especially if it's served to me by a nubile red-head with big tits. And I'm kind of set in my ways, so I don't see much chance of any major changes in my outlook.

I think I speak for many when I say, shut the fuck up, Fun Police, and leave us to our filet mignons, single malt Scotch, cuban cigars, and dangerous hobbies. We're not listening anyway, and even if we were, you'd never convince us that broccoli, tofu, and green tea are the keys to a joyful life.