Alaska

Just when we've finally got enough cops, doctors, and lawyers, to fill the E.R and the swanky corner office with a two year supply of donuts, now we learn that we need plenty of shows about Alaska too.  We've got some idiots with annoying facial hair mining for gold, we've got a new show where some people fly a plane to remote areas and deliver porn, and we've got Sarah Palin.  What is there to say about her that hasn't already been said?  I wouldn't fuck her with a ten foot dick or a even a stolen dick - whichever happens to be nearby.  I'll leave it there.

We'll have a new season of Deadliest Catch soon which is getting tiring after years of watching fishermen catch crabs, transfer crabs onto shelves, sort crabs, and finally, transfer crabs into tanks.  Even the concocted drama aspect of the show is getting old.  Will they catch enough crabs?  Will they run into a snowstorm?  Will the traps have enough crabs in them after this commercial?

I'd like to see a show called, "Alaska:  It's Just Too Fucking Cold Here."  I know what you're thinking.  But the wild, final frontier, nature of Alaska is so beautiful!  A hypothermia victim is a beautiful sight to a starving polar bear.  Let's have another show called, "Alaska:  Let's Plunder Its Resources While We're Still Able."  There's a reason why there are no drilling rigs or miners in Malibu.  It's just too nice and we wouldn't want to fuck it up.

They had a show called "Ice Road Truckers."  I kinda liked that one.  The truckers had to deliver equipment to a well-capitalized, corporate mining operation.  Occasionally a truck would fall through the ice into a lake just after the commercial.  That one was good.  The newest one is, "Alaska:  Gold Rush."  This one features a half-dozen fools, their children, and an old guy with an irritating, squeaky, old man voice, who likes to drive a tractor into a ditch while shouting to his idiot son, "There's gold in that ditch!"  His irritating voice is offset by his gray beard which is, thankfully, well-trimmed.  Anyway, he narrowly misses the ditch and runs over another miner's child.  A hungry bear sees a fresh ground beef brunch, so he runs over to eat the child's remains.  This show has some promise.

But they're idiots.  Agnico Eagle Mines (NYSE: AEM) can pull gold out of the ground at a cost of $420 per ounce.  I doubt the idiots find much gold and I doubt their cost-basis is anywhere under the spot price when the show was filmed.  Instead of putting all their money into tractors and supplies, they should have just bought a precious metals ETF.

Cat

This is little Stephen.  He's been added to the small list of mammals that I allow into my life.

Staunch Defense of Hot-cakes

I'm getting a bit sick of you people and the way you talk.  You're still using expressions from the 20th century or even worse, the 19th century.  Think up some new ones - willya please?  Do I have to be responsible for all the creativity around here?  The next time I hear you say, "I'm a staunch defender of candidate first-name last-name," I promise I'll beat you within in an inch of your life.

Whoops.  An inch of your life is a worn-out expression, isn't it?

Let's try this: I promise I'll beat you within 2.54 centimeters of your life.  The rest of the world uses the metric system, by the way.  We should at least update the units of measure in our tired expressions.

Anyway, everybody is a staunch defender or a firm believer.

"I firmly believe in universal healthcare and I'm a staunch supporter of abortion rights."

"Good for you!  I slightly believe in national healthcare.  I'm not sure about the universe.  I'd like to staunchly punch you in the fucking face though, or the abdomen - if you're pregnant."

Here's another one that bugs me to no end.

"They're selling like hot-cakes."

My mother uses the word hot-cake.  She's 87 years old.  A hot-cake is actually a donut. [Edit 1/5/10:  I asked my mother about this and she said a hot-cake is a pancake.  She added, "I really don't fucking know what a fucking hot-cake is.  What the fuck, son?"]  I imagine they were invented when my mother was a little girl and I imagine they sold like hot-cakes when they first came out.  Hot-cakes sales must have surely skyrocketed.

Incidentally, I'll be firing skyrockets at my house this next 4th of July.  Maybe you can attend?

Things always skyrocket.  Unemployment.  Crime.  Syphilis infections two months after a Republican or Democratic National Committee convention.

"I've got good news!  Our 3rd quarter revenue is going to be higher than expected.  Hot-cake sales are skyrocketing.  They're off the chart!"

"Really?  Maybe we should get a bigger chart.  Hey, have you seen my horseless carriage keys?  I must have misplaced them.  I have to get to the store - they're having a sale on hot-cakes and skyrockets.  I have to go before it gets dark - crime is at epidemic proportions."

I was gonna do some more ranting in a similar vein about how proportions are always epidemic, but I'm bored with this piece already.  You can't hit a home-run everyday.  Over and out.

Thornhill - Apparently Not Very Hot

Here's the insulting, bullshit summary from my report from an allegedly qualified radiologist.

In regards to the MRI: "... unremarkable appearance of the brain."
In regards to the MRA: "... unremarkable intracranial angiogram."

It's a terrible thing to be judged as unremarkable.  They always tell you, "Everybody is good at something.  Everybody is special," but it's just another fucking lie.  This guy really rubs my face in it though.  I'm at my lowest point in years and my self-esteem has plummeted at least 65 points but he couldn't care less.  He's a sadist.  I'm sure he's seen a lot of brains over the years and I would have thought this fact should have increased his sensitivity to the feelings of those in my position.  Not so.  Instead he launches an angry, ad hominem attack.

"... the major flow voids appear unremarkable ... the globes, orbits, and mastoid air cells are unremarkable."

I'm not going to repeat what he wrote about my basilar cisterns.  It's repugnant.  In short - I'm crushed.  I've spent so much time working on things like my distal vertebral arteries and it's been a complete waste.  I used to think I had a healthy and realistic impression of my body.  I used to think I was somewhat attractive - but it's clear now that I've been delusional.  I'm the proverbial ugly ducking.  It's worse than that.  I'm homely on the inside.  I've been living a lie.  I've got to give some serious thought about what to do now that my hopes and dreams for the future are gone.  I may have to remove myself from society so as not to upset the delicate sensibilities of remarkable people.

Thornhill - Hot or Not?

These pictures are from my recent photo shoot.  Modesty prevents me from complimenting myself very much but I think they turned out well.  I'm kinda proud of my Medulla Oblongata.  It looks just as good in person, by the way.

This is my brain.  There are many others like it but this one is mine.  The void in the center that looks like a jumping whale is actually filled with gin.

I don't know how these worms got into my head.  They don't hurt but I hear them whispering to each other - usually late at night.

What else is Juan Williams afraid of?

This week's distraction is Juan Williams and he's afraid of snakes on a plane.  And he's also worried about Muslims on a plane.  What really makes his bowels irritable though, is Muslims dressed in Muslim garb putting their snakes in the compartment over his seat.  Maybe he's projecting his fears about his role at Fox News.  After all, a Muslim dressed in Muslim garb has about the same chance of getting through airport security unnoticed as a black guy's opinion has of being taking seriously on Fox News.

Fox News is all in a twitter because they finally got a black friend and that took a lot of effort over the years.  They were close to getting Hootie but he backed out at the last minute.  So, they're going to defend Juan with all they've got.  Bill O'Reilly, who recently found out, much to his surprise, that black people use silverware, is defending Juan's fear of bed sheets used as clothing.  Racism is so ignorant and ignorance is so racist - whichever the case may be.  The silverware remark was at worst, ignorant.  It's Mexicans who don't use silverware.  Get your brown people straight before you open your mouth and embarrass yourself.

Anyway, who gives a shit.

Stocks and Blondes

I love the stock market.  I manage my own investments and am doing quite well.  They're gonna help pay for a Starbuck's Cinnamon Dolce Latte every morning when I'm retired.  I can easily spend the whole day watching the symbols, charts, graphs, tickers, trades, and blinking numbers go up, down, sideways, or whatever.  I had the same problem when I was a kid when I'd watch game shows like the Price is Right. They had some great blinking lights that always fascinated and obsessed me.

Then I hit puberty and became fascinated by the tits and ass that belonged to the chicks whose job it was to help out Bob Barker by pointing at shit.  It was also their job to strip out of their clothes and into bikinis when they gave away a speed boat or a hot tub.  Years later, as an adult, I learned that part of their job was to fuck old man Barker.  I understand he was quite the prevo.

Anyway, I rarely gamble.  I hardly never ever buy lottery tickets.  The odds are so terrible and the payout is so low.  But I love to gamble in the markets.  At least when I put money down on JP Morgan Chase they don't take the entire bet away from me in five minutes if I lose.  In the markets they never take it away.  I can keep my JPM bet on for twenty minutes or twenty years.  Of course I may have nothing left of my bet in twenty minutes or twenty years, but the choice is mine.

I've decided to setup two hypothetical stock portfolios, each one relatively diversified.  The first one is my If I Had $42,000 portfolio.  This one is a little heavy on the commodities, with oil, gold, and steel exposure, but I like it overall.  If you really care then you can go look up the symbols yourself.

This one is my $50,000 conservative old guy portfolio.  Each stock pays at least around a 3.5% dividend, with MO at 6.1%.  BMY and ED are each over 4.75%.

Case Reopened

On the evening of Aug. 17, 1980, Lindy Chamberlain heard a cry coming from her tent. Lindy, her husband Michael and their three children were camping in Ayers Rock (now called Uluru) in Australia's Northern Territory. Lindy had put her 10-week-old daughter Azaria to sleep in their tent. After the cry, Lindy rushed back to check on her and saw a dingo leaving the area, clenching something in its jaws. Azaria was no longer in the tent, and Lindy screamed the now infamous line, "A dingo's got my baby!"

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,2025730,00.html#ixzz12vDg2wZv

I thought I should tell you

So, I'm all fucked up.

Perhaps it's a form of payback by your god for something I did. Judging by what I've seen, I don't think your god is involved much in the day-to-day operations here on Earth, I doubt he's even heard about me, so I don't believe my own theory, and I don't believe in the nutty old man's existence anyway. But it's perfectly normal to ask “why me?” However, with six billion other people here, 200 billion stars like our Sun in the galaxy, each with the possibility of planets like Earth spinning around them, and 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe, I'd bet your god has trouble keeping track of it all. The perfectly normal question ought to be, “why not me?”

The thing is - I now have a pre-existing condition - although it's undiagnosed. I love irony even when I'm the target and a good joke is still good even if it's on me. I wrote that piece long after I became all fucked up so it doesn't really count, and it's not all that ironic. Irony is that guy who ran all the time, wrote all those books about how running was so great for your health, and then dropped dead of a massive stroke while he was out jogging.

Anyway, let's talk about blood - since I've given so much of it lately in order for them to run tests. I was curious so I asked that they find out what my blood type is. It's AB positive. After a little studying at Mr. Google's domestic partner, Mr. Wikipedia (they share a condo together in Silicon Valley but they're not gay, or so they say), I found out 5% of the world has AB+ blood. Odds are that you're type A+, B+, or type O+, which altogether makes up 85% – over a billion barrels. What it all means is beyond my four minutes of intensive research. One thing I found is that if I happen to be low a quart of blood, I can top-off with any old blood I want. You're all potential donors to me!

Your blood will work fine in my system assuming it's still fresh and not too salty. And not if you're an Arab. No offense intended - it's only because I support our country's goal of reducing our dependence on foreign blood, not because all of you are terrorists - I couldn't care less who you blow up. The best part: you probably can't use my blood – it only works for people in my little AB+ clan. Unless we are both AB+ then your body will hate my blood and you'll suffer a horrible, intensely bad reaction to it and it may just kill you. Sorta like a Justin Bieber show.

Anyway, furthermore, while I'm at it, and other unlisted, abrupt transitions, here's the fuckery that has got me all fucked up.  When I speak it sounds like I've been drinking heavily. It's becoming increasingly difficult to talk without sounding like I've had a few. Words with the letter B trip me up.

“A dingo stole my bay-he!”
“A dingo stole your what?”
“My bay-he.”
“Your what?
“My bay-he!”
“Your what?”
“My BABY!”
“There are no dingos in North America and you don't own any children. You're fucking drunk!”
“I wish.”

When I walk it looks like I'm shit-faced. Next time I get pulled over I'll run the risk of getting hauled away for drunk driving because I'll fail the road-side sobriety tests, aside from the breathalizer. As long as I don't have to speak to the cop then I should be okay and (s)he won't have a reason to run any tests.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“You're looking for a stolen bay-he?”
“You stole what?”
“A bay-he.”
“You stole what?”
“A bay-he.”
“You stole what?”
“A child.”
“Outta the car, Thornhill.”

And then there's the dizziness if I move my head too much. Go spin around in an office chair for a couple turns and you'll know how it feels. I have this all the time. In addition, my handwriting and typing skills have deteriorated to the point to where my writing looks like that of a psychopath and my delete key is almost broken from overuse. I've lost all fine motor control. Go drink about six drinks (an average, so-so night for me back in the day) and we'll compare our comparisons. I could go on. I don't feel like it.

All this is controlled by the Cerebellum, which is a region of your brain that looks like a Cauliflower. Why they didn't just call this the 'Cauliflower Region' instead of the Cerebellum is anyone's guess. I'll be getting an MRI scan soon and I'm guessing (in decreasing order of probability) that it will show damage to the Cauliflower Region, from years of massive drinking or an exotic genetic disorder, a brain tumor, or maybe it will show nothing and these problems will stop their progression.

I thought I should tell you.

Voting

As I was returning to the office with my McDonald's #11 value meal, NPR was talking about this season's contests in your precious, little democracy. All I managed to gather was that some politicians are running for Governor or something, all of us should care about it, and all of us should get out and vote to stop it. Politics on my car stereo hits me in exactly the same way as turpentine in my morning glass of V8 juice, so I desperately tried to get the CD changer to play some Eminem. I was thinking any track of 'The Marshall Mathers LP' would be a good fit for my developing rage. But the player was jammed up and wouldn't go.

A few minutes went by and they continued to talk about politics. Naturally, I started to wish for death. Then I wondered: what are the voter turnout statistics among those with terminal illnesses? Do the political parties have any outreach programs to overcome the (understandable) apathy among this demographic? The group could be this year's swing vote. Just like a few years ago when the Christians were all obsessed with gay marriage.

So, I dropped on by the DNC and RNC to pose the question. I doubt that I'll get a reply but you'll be the fist to know.

Cops, Doctors, and Lawyers II

I recently discovered that the 'The Good Wife' on CBS is not only apparently all about a good wife, but I hear she's a swell lawyer too. The trailers indicate that it's a story with a politician (probably another fucking lawyer) and his good wife. I guess the 'The Good Wife' wasn't quite good enough in bed so the husband (played by some chode - who gives a shit) sought out a 'Good Transvestite,' most likely during a re-election cycle. I think the 'The Good Wife' should sleep with Tom Selleck's mustache, in a special two hour, cross-promotional episode, as a payback to her cheating husband.

I can't possibly squeeze this one into my schedule - my DVR is already backed up with 30 hours of other law enforcing, law making, life saving professionals.

Cops, Doctors, and Lawyers

The new TV season is almost upon us.  America has a criminal justice fetish and so we can never have enough cops, doctors and lawyers.  Thank god we've got plenty of each kind (thanks god), but mostly cops.  Technically speaking, just about every cop show has a doctor or a lawyer, and every lawyer show needs a cop to lie at the trial about the handgun or the dimebag they planted on the defendant, but I had to categorize each show for the sake of my handy table.  I haven't included the TNT original shows in my table, but they have 'Rizzoli & Isles' in some bad-guy-chasing, dirty-over-thirty, super-hot, girl-on-girl action.  They have a chick called 'The Closer.'  Evidentially she's a cop, but she finds the time to help you close shit, like a 30 year mortgage re-fi.  TNT also has one or more cop shows with 'blue' in the title, like dark blue, rookie blue, navy blue, or some fucking thing. And CBS gives us another 'blue' show, this one starring Tom Selleck's mustache, called 'Blue Bloods.'

Your DVR is going to get quite a workout this fall as many shows are stacked upon each other, especially on Friday night, but we can catch up over the weekend.  Wednesday night looks particularly good and is our best chance of the entire week to see lawyers doggedly pursuing truth, justice, and other whimsical fantasies based upon our judicial system.
Here's a list for each night so you can plan appropriately.

Day	Time	Show	Cops	Doctors	Lawyers
Monday	8:00	House		✔
	10:00	Hawaii Five-O	✔
		Castle	✔
		Chase	✔
Tuesday	8:00	NCIS	✔
	9:00	NCIS: Los Angeles	✔
	10:00	Detroit 187	✔
Wednesday	9:00	Criminal Minds	✔
		Law & Order: SVU	✔		✔
	10:00	Law & Order: Los Angeles	✔		✔
		The Whole Truth			✔
Thursday	8:00	Bones	✔
	9:00	Grey's Anatomy		✔
		CSI	✔
	10:00	Private Practice		✔
		The Mentalist	✔
Friday	8:00	Medium	✔
	9:00	CSI: New York	✔
		Body of Proof		✔
		Good Guys	✔
	10:00	Blue Bloods	✔
		Outlaw			✔
Saturday	8:00	Cops	✔
	8:30	Cops	✔
Sunday	10:00	CSI: Miami	✔

Fantasy Football

Here is my all-pro, all-star, fantasy football team.

Wide Receivers

Braylon Edwards - [10/26/2009] - Charged with misdemeanor assault, accused of punching friend of LeBron James at club Oct. 5. Edwards was traded to the New York Jets a few days after the incident.

Plaxico Burress - [12/1/2008] - Turned himself on charge of criminal possession of a handgun after accidentally shooting himself in thigh at New York nightclub. He did not have permit for the Glock pistol. Indicted on two counts of criminal possession of a weapon and one count of reckless endangerment.

Terry Glenn - [12/30/2005] - Cited for public intoxication after urinating outside Jack In The Box restaurant.

I know that I can have only 2 wide receivers, but I had to make room for Plaxico because his name sounds like a weather resistant, space-age building material.  And well, I need a player on my team who carries a concealed weapon since I have so many players with criminal backgrounds.

Offensive Line

Cornell Green - [3/21/2009] - Arrested in Tampa after allegedly slamming the mother of his two children against wall and hitting her with mop handle.

Richard Collier - [11/3/2007] - Charged with DUI after being found asleep behind wheel at McDonald's drive-thru window.

Jeremy Bridges - [12/7/2008] - Arrested, charged with two counts of simple assault and battery and one count of communicating threats after incident at restaurant.

Chris Naeole - [6/27/2004] - Police used a Taser to subdue Naeole before arresting him on a charge of disorderly conduct at a bar in Jacksonville Beach.

Quinn Ojinnaka - [5/26/2009] - Charged with simple battery after wife said she was tossed down stairs by him. Wife said fight was over one of his female friends on Facebook.

Sean Locklear - [1/15/2006] - Arrested on a charge of assault for allegedly choking his girlfriend outside a downtown Seattle nightspot.

Kenyatta Jones - [10/21/2003] - Arrested for allegedly assaulting his roommate with scalding water.

I think this will be a real good front line.  They can decide for themselves who snaps the ball.  I don't really care.  The defense is never gonna see my plays coming.  Right after the snap - POW!  They'll get a face full of super-heated, premium roast coffee.  Anybody who gets through my line with less than 3rd degree burns will then have to get past my man Green and face a savage beating with a some sort of cleaning device.

Tight Ends

Matt Spaeth - [10/18/2009] - Cited for public urination outside restaurant near Steelers' stadium after game. Teammate Jeff Reed arrested as part of incident.

Kolomona Kapanui - [5/3/2009] - Arrested on obscenity and disturbing the peace charges. He allegedly urinated in public and exposed himself to women.

These tight ends have small bladders.  I'll setup some portable toilets just past the end zone so they'll run like hell to get there.

Running Backs

Lionel Gates - [3/29/2007] - Arrested, charged with hitting pregnant woman in face.

Michael Pittman - [5/31/2003] - Pittman was charged with aggravated assault after police said he used his Hummer to ram a car carrying his wife, 2-year-old son and a babysitter.

I'll hire America's greatest running back, O.J. Simpson, to keep these guys in line and provide them with the proper training.  They obviously have no clue when it comes to domestic violence.  O.J.'s tutelage will help them both on and off the field.

I've been thinking long and hard about my quarterback - the most important player on the field.  Michael Vick would be an obvious choice, but I can't see how cruelty to animals will help us in the QB position. However, I would like to consider him for place kicker if he's available.  Kicking a football is just like kicking a small dog, so I bet he's good.

Anyway, since this is fantasy football, my QB will be a nanomorph, mimetic, poly-alloy (liquid metal) assassin, just like the T-1000 in Terminator 2.  Except that he will be outfitted with state-of-the-art neurologic transceiving implants, so that we can hook up Bo Schembechler's head - which is still in deep-freeze at that Arizona cryolab, right next to Ted Williams.

Visit the NFL Arrests Database to build your own team.

Pre-Existing Rage

I have a medical condition known as Inessential Redundancy Disorder type six. Sufferers suffer from rage filled, rage attacks when confronted with seemingly ignorant duplication of words. For example, IRD disorder type one (the least aggressive strain,) causes people to freak out slightly when they see an abbreviation like FedEx Express.

“I am going to send you this package via Federal Express Express. I prefer them over that United Parcel Service service. Don't you?”

I have type six, which means I have all the symptoms of types one through five. I don't want to bore you with the details of each one, but type four can cause your white blood cells (WBCs) to mutate. Normal WBC cells are shaped like round circles. Abnormal cells mutate into rectangular square shapes. Then your WBC cells can get stuck in your arteries causing your head to blow up like that guy in that movie.

Do you remember or recall that movie from the 70s where the guy's head blew up and exploded?

That was a good one.

But the hallmark symptom of type six is that when we're confronted with certain redundancies, we become angry with anger. We go out into swamps and poke sticks at turtles. Or, if we're near the sea, we swim out and find ocean going sea turtles and we hold them underwater for a while. If we live in an urban setting then we kill a hooker instead.

Anyway, the hookers are stacking up like a cord of wood (128 cubic feet) lately because of this sick obsession with healthcare. Did you notice the clever pun? Sick obsession? Nevermind.

People who should know better, like the president, go around speaking about pre-existing conditions, and how it's not right to be denied insurance coverage because you may have one. Seems fair, I suppose - I guess - I don't know. It's the word grouping that bugs me.

First off, you either have a condition or you don't. It's that simple.

“Yes, Mr. Thornhill, do you have any conditions?”

“I'm not sure what you mean.”

Then some ignoramus added the word existing in front of condition because, apparently, they were afraid people would question the objective reality of their goiter, thus withholding important medical information.

“Yes, Mr. Thornhill, do you have any existing conditions?”

“I have an existing condition of life. Before that I had an existing condition of non-life. This is a philosophical question, isn't it? How did Hawkings answer it?”

Still, I can live with the phrase existing condition, even though it bothers me, because I don't let the little things get to me.

“Yes, Mr. Thornhill, do you have any pre-existing conditions?”

“In other words, do I have something that existed prior to existing before it ever existed? I think the correct answer must be yes. Yes I do.”

“What conditions do you have?”

“All of them.”

Damon will stay in Detroit

Damon will stay in Detroit

This is good news. Matt Damon decided he doesn't want to go back to Boston. Maybe Ben Affleck gave him another talk? Remember towards the end of Good Will Hunting when Affleck said, "why the fuck are you still here?[Boston]" They were pretty close in that movie and my sense is that Affleck had something to do with the decision.

Why would Damon consider returning to the scene of so many bad memories? First off there's the Minnie Driver character. Ten years have passed and her character's alcoholism and prostitution must certainly be in the final stages. That won't be pretty. Then there's Robin Williams who, again after ten years, strikes me as something of a bear, and the way he was eyeing Damon (see above) adds an entire layer of backstory that never struck me until now. It finally makes sense as to why Williams took such an interest in Damon, why he was always trying to get him drunk, and the reason for all the interminably long man hugs prevalent throughout the movie.

Anyway, Damon should realize that the sequel is always worse than the original. I can understand visiting for a two week vacation. Perhaps he can find a chaperone and spend time with Williams. After all it was Williams who recognized Damon's talent and encouraged him to follow his dreams, so a quick drop-in would be the polite thing to do. But to move back permanently when he has achieved so much success on his own seems like a mistake.

I can see him feeling bad for Affleck and Williams (both of whom have had sparse critical acclaim since GWH,) and he's probably thinking that a reunion could re-ignite their foundering careers. If it's Janitorial Arts that he longs for then maybe he could mop floors at Wayne State University part-time, and then go full-time during the off season. I'm sure they would love to have him. MIT is an impressive thing to see on somebody's resume.