As I Promised-

I like dogs, a little. I even own a dog, though I will tell folks that "it" belongs to my kids. I have a problem, however, with people who put that stinking ass dog on a pedestal higher than all of the important things around it. One of the funniest things I have EVER seen in my life (and you know I keep my eyes open) was a sticker placed OVER another bumper sticker, on the back of a Volvo in Atlanta. The car's owner had placed one of those "I (heart) MY BORDER COLLIE" bumper stickers out back, to show all passers by just how miserable his little life was. Some savvy jackass in "the ATL" had purchased another sticker, shaped like the heart, and even the same color. Across the heart sticker/overlay, it said "FUCK". This completely changed the meaning of the sticker, but only to the dog's owner. Because, when I see those stickers, I KNOW that I am following a real life dog fucker. I'm just saying, get a dog- love it, and take it every where you go. Hell, leave it a spot in your will if you want. But don't lose your mind over the damn thing. If you find yourself buying clothing or jewelry for the animal, get a God Damn hobby. Find a bum somewhere, and take up the task of rehabilitating him/her. Organize your garage, but just do something. We are waging a war overseas, that most folks THINK is about oil, or religion, or some shit. I think that two thirds of this planet hate Americans because of the following:

This is a Pea coat for a dog.

This is a pearl necklace, for a dog.

This folks, is a man who is about to fuck his dog. The dog knows it, and you can see that in it's eyes. Why else would the guy spend hundreds on dressing the dog up?

Toys (?) in the Attic Part 3

I don't know how many more times I can use that title, but I KNOW I will keep bringing these crazy ass products to my site. Some of these are just stupid, and others are the reason a lot of other countries hate us. Took all the pics at Target. Lets go-

First, why do all cartoon characters eventually "go ghetto?" I mean, I know that Tweety bird and the gang stopped getting work long before I was even born, but Alvin and the Chipmunks? Here they are heading out to rob a liquor store. And they were doing so good!

Next is "Jam Pack Jam", the game where you time how fast you can pack a car trunk, then try to beat that time. I don't know who this one is aimed at, children of known fugitives, or children of Target's favorite customer- the obsessive compulsive. Don't get it? Then you don't have the disease.

This one claims, "Hear conversations up to thirty feet!" We had that device when I was young, we called it an eardrum. Dude, its thirty feet.

Here's Dora and Diego, hopefully going back home to Cuba.


For Gods sakes, just throw the damn treat.

In the country, they have a device to help deal with dogs that are crippled, or too old to stand on their own- its called a bullet. This, on the other hand, is pretty sick.

Again, the old question. Who the hell is walking who?

The chocolate is way better. (WTF?)

Found it like this. I know my brother shops there, I suspected him the second I saw it.

"This one time, at band camp" I know, not funny.

Well, that's all I have. I have reserved a few more of the pet related pictures for a later story that I may title, "Stop being such a dog fucker". Till then, I'm out-

Teaching Kids; How to spot a Shitbird

One of the hardest things to do when your raising kids, is teaching the difference between a real shit bird, and someone just dressed to look like a shit bird. Well, you have nothing to worry about, because PlayMobile Inc. has started producing toys to do the job for you! Just playing with this new line will teach the kids, as they grow, what to look out for. Lets take a look; First, notice that the shit bird is handcuffed to Officer Friendly.

Next, notice that shit bird is covered with tattoos. I have tattoos myself, and some of the best people I have ever known do as well, but still, its kind of funny.

Lastly, notice that the shit bird is ready to wallop you with anything he can get his greasy hands on. NEVER turn your back on a shit bird. Thanks Playmobile. I would like to note here, that there was a time (in the eighties) that I dressed very much like this. I was thrown out of Six Flags over Georgia for dress code, as well as a Chucky Cheese Pizza (can you smell the urine?) restaurant. I was told that the restaurant was a "family place" and I was frightening the chirren'. The difference was......... fooled you! There WAS no difference. I WAS a shit bird. That is my point. If you dress like a shit bird, you will be treated as such, because you are wearing the uniform. If you dress like a pirate, you will probably say "Arrrrgh" before the end of the day. If you dress like a cowboy, you will probably yell "YEEHAA" before to long. You dress like a shit bird, you will probably wallop a cop with a giant flash light before the day is over, or at least, you will want too.

Lowest Common Denominator

Spent an hour in the waiting room of my favorite "pain management" clinic the other day. I had my cell/camera phone, and had to show you something I noticed. Im not going to point out the obvious, just look at the pic's.

Apparently, being fat hurts. I want to add that each one of these specimins who either rolled in on their own power or were pushed in by a feeder, cryed at some point in the waiting room. It was the strangest thing. The 400 pounder in the first shot (with butterfly bag) waited until the room was silent, and then wimpered for a good three minutes.

The one in the stripped shirt (with 22 inch "cankles") went for a good minute or so.

The one in the black suit-thing argued with her insurance company (Blue Cross/Blue plate) and then did a sort of cursing-cry-out loud bit.

This was the first one's feeder, going after a ringing cell phone in her butterfly bag. I swear to God Almighty that the ring tone was "Devil went down to Georgia". You can't make this shit up.

I have been told from my Doctor that I would have less back pain if I lost weight. The thought of dieting makes me want to stand in his waiting room and have a good cry.

Lets Turn it ALL to Crap

I know I'm a whiny bitch, but I have to say a few words here. I remember going to restaurants a few years ago. Even if the food was crap, most places above the fast food level had some sort of atmosphere. A lot of places even offered a little privacy for you and your whoever. You could get a nice booth, with some partition sides or some other kind of blind, and really talk shit. You could get to know your date, plan a hit, or anything else. Italian joints were the best, followed closely by Red Lobster. Now, they throw your ass in with everyone else. Your back touches the back of the guy behind you, even if the place has twelve people in it. You get the kid that screams, until his sorry ass parents let him free range, and put his mucus crusted hands on your table. They put high watt light in your face, and a TV in your ear. They have turned your favorite restaurant into HI FI Buys. The picture above is not a sports bar. Its Red Lobster, or whats left of it. Here's how you finish a restaurant chain. Increase the size of the bar to at least half the size of the space. Bring in thirty seven flat screen TVs, and put at least twenty of them on CNN or FOX news. Nothing makes me hungry like bleeding Iraqis! Now, shrink the food menu to half the size of the drink menu, and make the appetizer menu bigger than both of them together. Viola! You got yourself a Chilli's! And as you know, Chilli's ain't no place you go to eat.

The Time Machine

Well, this week, I got to hit on something I have said before. If you ever wanted to "go back in time" I know where the government parked a time machine. I can get you back to the middle ages in an hour, free of charge. I'm not trying to sell tickets to some geeky-ass renaissance fair, this is real. I want you to strap on a hidden dagger, lace up some knee boots, and take your ass to Walmart. Not that new, ritzy ass location, the OTHER one. The one over on the " " side (you know your cities shitty side, the side you would never live, but you buy your tires there) where the air is thick with the smell of crap food and failure. Go in that Walmart, and find a place to sit. Transport yourself to days long ago, where teachers and dentists were tried as witches, and a complete lack of limbs or soap could not stop a woman from being impregnated nine times. In the REAL middle ages, people did not walk around eating roasted turkey legs, singing witty songs, and trying to paint your face. They mumbled stupid shit, smelled like hot garbage, and made kids to pass time. I want to start taking middle school kids in there on field trips, like a living museum. Maybe get me some tires, and pay a hump-back to carry them out.

This Aint about the IPhone

This ain't about the IPhone. I cant afford one, blah blah blah- This is about the level of technology we have achieved with the cell phone. Now that we can take stunning photos, access the Internet in seconds, and repel insects with sonic tone transmitters, I have a question for the makers of these wonderful devices. Do we really need to still be told how to leave a fu**ing message? Do I have to be told that when I'm done, I should hang up? Wait for the beep to start talking? Shit man. I have been carrying a cell phone for 16 years or so, as most of you have, and I still have to listen to all that crap when I get into someones voicemail. Sorry, it just annoys the shit out of me.