About Me

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I'm an artist, educator, militant anti-theist , and I write. I gamble on just about anything. And I like beer...but I love my wife. This blog contains observations from a funny old man who gets pissed off every once in a while.

Friday, June 25, 2010

NEW ORLEANS

LAST NIGHT MY COCKS BEAT THE SOONERS!!!!
(that kind of sounds like a crude, but effective cure for premature climaxes)
Anyway, tonight Cocks vs. Clemson and one of them is going home. It don't get any better than that.
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The first half of our trip to New Orleans looked like this...
The last part looked like this...
I was not a happy camper.
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During the back road part of the drive I came across this...
I just find shit like that extremely sad. In the latest National Geographic I read about a family of six pilgrims who spent weeks "walking" 400 miles to Lhasa, but every three steps they prostrate themselves (that means lie face down in the road). They wear special leather pads on their hands to minimize damage. They do this because they have faith (with no evidence whatsoever) that their god wants them to. Just like the suicide bombers have faith (without any evidence) that their god wants them to kill themselves while killing dozens of innocent people. I contend that blind faith is a very, very dangerous thing. But maybe that's just me, but please don't tell me that your proof is that it's written in a book. You can't throw a dead cat without hitting yet another book written by some long dead guys telling people to do weird shit. And ALL these books promise that you will live forever if you do it their way. Live forever. Forever. Alive. Damn!
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There was no place to stop when I saw them, but there were two adjacent signs on the side of the road with arrows pointing in the same direction that read:
CEMETERY
BOB'S RECYCLING
(Debbie thought that worth sharing)
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We are now in a real hotel in New Orleans that is so big we could hold hockey tryouts in here.
I have already picked out the spot to tag the balcony. I only have eight tags left, so I have been niggardly with them. My only regret was not having the guts to tag GOD'S HOUSE. If I could remember where it was I would go back some day and tag it. Maybe while I was there I could expound on my opinion of blind faith and the need some of us have for evidence.
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Remember me driving through Deadwood? I wonder if that was the birthplace of Viagra?
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Last night for the FOURTH time during our journey, there were two identical bad "art" prints in my room. I'm beginning to think it a conspiracy.
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My wife likes to jack the AC up in every room in which we dwell to the setting marked ARCTIC++. Last night it was so cold in our room that when she opened the door, every mirror and piece of glass in the room (including my glasses) fogged up instantly....AND I SWEAR THAT'S TRUE - you can ask her yourself.
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We are heading home after New Orleans. It's been a hell of a ride, but it's time.
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My wife has learned a few things about me during our trek. Last night she told me that I sit more than anybody she has ever known. That's probably correct. I like sitting. I think I should have been a professional poker player. I have the prolonged sitting part down pat.
Then there are the beer cans. There ain't no hiding how many beers I drank what with the empties sitting right there on the table, and the dresser, and the TV, and the sink, and that little shelf over the closet bar. She frowns at them, but deep down I think she is impressed.
Then there are the books on tape. We have differing views on the timing of when to give up on a bad book and start another. The book we are listening to now started off okay, but now it sucks. She wants to abort. I refuse. My reasoning is that we have already given it 13 hours and if we abort, all those hours will be wasted. She tries to counter that another 97 hours will make her go completely insane(r), and I suggested that she don her snore-proof earplugs and do her nails or something for three or four days.
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Now let me share some things I've been sent...
I find the following two images equally perplexing on multiple levels (think blind faith)...(and stupid get-ups)
(did you notice it's from Gucci? I'm sure her god is impressed, as is the nuns'.)
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But the ONLY reason you take a photograph for a drivers license is so that you can be identified. Below is one of the most irrational things I have ever witnessed. This is insultingly stupid. This must end. It's simple; no identity, no driver's license. Make it like a rule...you know, like EVERY FUCKING PERSON IN THE COUNTRY EXCEPT THESE YAHOOS!!!
(did you notice that under EYES, it says HIDDEN....JEEEEEEEEEEZ!)
And am I reading it correctly that the bitch is 6'3"?!? Olden Street, indeed!
But isn't her penmanship nice...
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Let me make this perfectly clear, I don't hate the sick bastards who abuse little boys...well, okay I do, but I also consider them really sick...like insane. The management that lets them confess and promise not to do it again and then does not turn them over to the police is the real guilty party here. I want to know why the bosses are not prosecuted for being an accessory after the fact?
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Speaking of penises....someone suggested that I should have posed Debbie like this...
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Cool mural...
And a chicken made of the earth's land masses...
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(groans are permissible)
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One of my very own...
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