Archive for the ‘I need a beatin'’ Category

Read the title. You have been warned. Proceed at your own risk.

In the process of moving my parents from one rental home to another, I ran across this “ornament” in the garden (image to the left).

“Um Mom. What the hell is this?”

“It’s my lawn boy.”

“Yep. Got that. It’s painted black”.

“Ya, it’s my black lawn boy. I like it.”

“Ok, but it is painted black to look like a black person, probably a servant. It is not really very politically correct. Some people would be offended by it.”

“I keep it in the backyard.”

“Ok. Could we paint it green or something.”

“No. I always wanted a black one. Besides, I don’t mean it like that.”

And I am sure she doesn’t “mean it like that”. But at the same time…DAHM!

Next order of business –Fear the Gay Chicken. Turn the speakers up loud for this one.

Yes, I fully expect to go to Hell and be chained between an angry black lawn boy statuette and a chicken with a fondness for “bacock”.

Serves me right.



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Today I was on a conference call with a customer who was having trouble with BJ’s warehouse data.

“Hi Gordon. I am having trouble with my BJ’s. Can you help me?”

::silence…then a chicken like cackle from one of the other techs in the conference call::


Sure, I can help you with that.

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According to Elton John (and Bernie Taupin) Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting) but I by far prefer Serenity.

Yes, I watched it again for about the 100th time (three times this week alone). Nothing like a couple of laughs and a fight or two to calm the nerves.

Originally I wrote much more angsty crap for this post but I decided to cut it out. My good buddy Rich wants me to get back to the original intent of this blog – poking fun at Midgets, Anal Jokes and Home Pornography – so I’ll try to accommodate him.

My fellows, I fart in your general direction. If you’re a midget you might want to not stand so close. If you are a naked midget with digital camera, give me a call.


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A couple of days ago, Reuters reported that the Cassini probe discovered a new ring around Saturn.

Big deal.

I mean I like Saturn and all, but I prefer the smaller, less gassy planets; like Uranus.

Uranus needs to be probed. Maybe a new ring will be discovered.

(Can you believe I am almost 42 yrs old and Uranus jokes still make me laugh?)


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My niece Amber was upset that her new hair cut wasn’t quite what she had hoped for. She wanted it cut like Racheal from Friends, but instead it looked more like a longish page boy.

Earlier in the day Amber called Brandee complaining about the new do and Brandee decided we needed to cheer her up.

We found Amber curled up in a ball on the couch, hiding her head behind her lounging son. She was snivel-crying and tried to blame the whole fiasco on her husband, Steve.

“He made me do it. He said I looked like a church lady and needed to get a haircut!”

I, being the naturally caring individual that I am, tried to comfort her.

“Honey, let me tell you something. Steve will probably kill me for revealing this Husband-secret but he probably does not care about your hairdo. The old one was just fine with him.”

“Really?”, she perked up, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Certainly”, I nodded sagely.

“When a husband tells his wife she needs a haircut, what he is really saying is, your boobs are too small and your butt is too big. Since I can’t do anything about either of them, please cut your hair.”


I am pretty sure I made Amber feel better.


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Not PC

I know this is not “politically correct” but don’t all of the hurricane devastation pictures look like scenes from a zombie movie?


Are you sure?

Try this – grab a hurricane aftermath picture at random. See all the water? Debris? Dead Bodies? Now insert an imaginary Zombie or two. Looks like a Zombie preserve, doesn’t it?

Again, I know this is not PC. I am also willing to bet that many people have made the same observation as I.

You may be one of those people.

Now you can relate how horribly insensitive my comments are and with a clear conscience segue into a discussion of Dawn of the Dead. Maybe say “Brrraainnss!” a couple of times. Go ahead. You’ll feel better. After all, it’s not your fault. It’s mine.

You’re welcome.

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