E R N I E ' S H O U S E O F W H O O P A S S
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|October 31, 2003|
From all of us here, to all of you out there, Happy Halloween!
I hate to spoil a surprise, but I'm doing so only because I have to appeal to all of you to help me out with a prop.
My costume this Halloween is going to be that of Niels Bohr, the 1922 Physics Nobel Prize winner from Denmark. I'm going to dress in a severe dark brown suit, and shave a little off my hairline and dye my hair white, as was his before his death in 1962. Then I'll put bags under my eyes, and perhaps construct a nondescript cleft chin. I'll walk around Halloween parties talking about how I incorporated Max Planck's quantum theory into Rutherford's atomic model of negatively charged electrons moving in circular orbits about a positively charged nucleus.
I imagine most people will guess who I am immediately, but just in case, I'll have witty lines ready like, "Who do you think I am? I only envisioned specific discrete energy levels for the electrons within which they could move yet not emit radiation-that's all, you stupid fucks!"
Or maybe I'll say "Did any of you other fucking freaks hypothesize how an incoming particle could strike a nucleus and create an excited "compound" nucleus? Huh?" "Does the goddamn Schledinger Wave Equation ring a bell with any of you pussies?" Then I'll smash a bottle of Newcastle Ale against my head, as Niels used to do with his science counterparts at cocktail parties hosted by the Royal Academy of Science. He was a gas, that Neils Bohr-- physicist, chemist, citizen of Denmark, lover of thousands, heavyweight prize fighter with a vicious haymaker.
Anyway, my question is, does anyone have a pair of brown socks I can use to make my outfit complete? Thanks.
But seriously, everyone be careful out there, you know with witches flying around and all.
|October 28, 2003|
And life is good again.
Well, I've finished my physical therapy sessions for my seperated shoulder, and all seems to be good. I get the occasional popping or clicking noise every now and again, but I can live with that. I can even ride in the car for more than an hour and not feel back pain. And just as importantly, I can update on a regular basis again. Life is good. Time to get back on the ATV and exercise a little more caution for now on, eh?
I was a little disappointed to have my sessions end truth be told, as I rather enjoyed the experience and feel it enriched my life. I grabbed some snapshots of my fellow injurees, just for keepsake.
|October 26, 2003|
Oh How The Mighty Have Fallen
What other word could I choose to express my joy over the Yankee's shutout in Game 6?
The Yanks come in looking all tough and invincible. Nobody kept their eye on the Marlins at all. Let alone expect them to kick anyone's ass. And now, well, thing just fell apart for the pinheads in pinstripes and viola! It's time for a party!
|An Mexican in Phoenix has his car stolen. He doesn't report it for 7 days. When he finally goes to the police station to report, the officer in charge says that since the loss accured over 7 days ago the vehicle is probably over the border and stripped for parts. The Mexican was heard to mutter as he left the station... "Damned Canadians!"|
"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feelings, which thinks that nothing is worth war, is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing, which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than him." -- John Stewart Mill (1806-1873)
|October 23, 2003|
Do You Know This Person?
I need some help!
On Monday my car radio was stolen from my car. Fortunately a security camera mounted on a wall near my car recorded the incident. JSO has now been able to give me a photograph of the suspect to circulate to friends, in the hope that this person can be identified. While some features are familiar to me I cannot positively identify the suspect; but you might be able to help.
Please let me know if you have any clues because, while losing the radio doesn't really matter, I'd just love to get my hands on the suspect. The photo is here. Thanks.
|The guys had been worried about Bob ever since his wife dumped him and cleaned him out in the divorce. They decided that somebody should go visit him at home to see how he was doing. Floyd gets the job and goes to Bob's place one day after work. Bob seems to be ok but Floyd checks his place out to see if anything is out of the ordinary, just in case. The place looks fine except for one thing, a tampon on top of Bob's TV. Floyd tries to ignore it but curiosity finally gets the best of him. "Hey, Bob, what's with the tampon on the televison?" "Oh, that's just to remind me that the cunt took the VCR."|
"People who treat others as less than human must not be surprised when the bread they have cast on the waters comes floating back to them, poisoned." -- James Baldwin (1924-1987)
|October 21, 2003|
If You're Happy And You Know It
This fine, upstanding member of the infamous 18th Street LA Gang, decided one day that he would try to car-jack a semi truck at gun point as part of his gang initiation. The thug jumped up on the driver side, while the truck was in motion, and stuck a gun in the driver's face. The only problem was that the truck driver opened the door and knocked the attempted thief off. He lost his balance and fell under the wheels of the truck, at which time the driver slammed on his brakes, resting on top of him and decided that this was the perfect time to whip out his Fuji Disposable camera...Say cheese, homie!
squished homie 1 --
squished homie 2 --
squished homie 3
|October 18, 2003|
All Hail The Mighty Gluttons
In this year's Tour deFrance, German Jan Ullrich -- the man most capable of challenging Lance Armstrong for the win -- fell down in a crash when another bike crashed ran into him. Armstrong saw this an raised his arm, slowing down the lead pack of riders and let Ulrich catch back up to them. A few days later, some crazy lady literally hooked Armstrong's handlebars with her umbrella handle, sending him crashing to the pavement with only six miles to go to win his fifth Tour. In a splendid display of sportsmanship, Ulrich who was in the #2 position right behind Armstrong at the time of the crash, slowed down and let Lance pick himself back up and regain the lead. That my friends, is what sports is about. Victory over your opponent in an honest competition fought on a level field of play. Can you imagine if that happened in baseball?
With the Yankees front office, it's never about having an honest contest, it's about them winning at all costs. There are a handful of teams that can beat the Yanks every so often, but the majority don't stand a chance in hell and quite frankly never will. Is it because the Yankees are such a great team? Well maybe. But really it's because the other owners don't have the enormous bankrolls to spend on every all-star players that walks through their front offices door with a bat and glove for hire. If Bill Gates decided to build a team money would obviously be no object for him. He could easily pay $25 million a year to each of his players, undoubtedly the absolute best in each of their respective positions, and each year the Yank fans would be sitting right alongside the rest of us saying "what the fuck?" I just think that's a crappy way to win.
Baseball is the only major sport where there is no mechanism in place to keep all the teams on a level playing field. Football has salary caps and the draft. The NBA has salary caps and the draft. Hell ever NASCAR has regulations in place governing the allowable specifications of their cars, rules which which keep a well bankrolled team from using their wealth to a greated advantage than a less funded team. (NHL has neither but let's be honest, who the fuck watches hockey?) Sure some teams like the Giants, Red Sox or Cubs can get a big name or two, but nobody has as many household name players as the New York Yankees. Their annual salary requirements at $160,000,000 PER YEAR are more than the GNP of some third world countries. They can literally outspend their opponents into defeat before ever taking the field -- and if it weren't the Yankees with the big dollar signs, it'd be somebody else.
I'll be honest, I've never been much of an athlete but I know football a shit load better than I know most other sports. I've never picked up basketball (I'm too fuckin short). Or hockey (I'm too fuckin small). Or really until this season, baseball (see reasons above). I know last year the Raiders were AFC champs. This year they're dogshit. Four years ago, the Rams were unbeatable. Now they're so-so. Four years ago the Chiefs were last in their division. Now they're undefeated. It's ever changing and evolving thanks to the checks and balances of the draft/salary caps. Last year's underdog is this year's suprise winner. There's a sense of anticipation in not knowing how your team is going to do this year and an adrenaline rush watching the season unfold each game.
A Yankee fan can pretty wake up on opening day feeling pretty confident their team is going to have a hot season and make the divisional playoffs, regardless of any improvements other teams have undergone during the off season. I guess I just don't see the fun in that. But that's okay because this is professional sports and remember their golden rule: It's not how you play the game but if you win or lose. Right?
|October 16, 2003|
YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!
How much did the Yankees pay you to leave Pedro in for the 8th inning?
Why in God's name didn't you relieve him when he was showing signs of fatigue back at the end of the 7th?
I hope you get hit by a bus.
|October 13, 2003|
So whaddya think?
Aside from the occasional typographical or grammatical error, how do ya think it's coming along so far? Shootin for mid November as the official launch date.
Oh by the way, Siegfried, of the famous Siegfried and Roy duo has announced that the lavish production of magic and wonderment at the Mirage hotel and casino will in fact return. Siegfried proudly announced "The show will go on!", and should continue delight audiences with the Las Vegas strip's most popular act. Siegfried said that the only change will be that from now on, the show will be known as Siegfried and Claude.
Camera For Sale.
I'm selling my friend's digital camera. He is in the hospital now & will probably be there for awhile. He needs the money to pay for medical bills. This is a great camera. To show you the quality, here is the last picture he took with it.
In light of Arnie's now being elected to be the Governor of California, I thought we should revisit one of the more prescient scenes from the Demolition Man movie:
|Stallone: Hold it! The Schwarzenegger Library?|
|Bullock: Yes, the Schwarzenegger Presidential Library. Wasn't he an actor?|
|Stallone: Stop! He was President?|
|Bullock: Yes. Even though he was not born in this country, his popularity at the time caused the 61st Amendment...|
Anyways, let me know if you're interested in the camera.
I Love Boobies.
Today may very well be the best day of my life. I had heard these photos existed but haven't been able to find them anywhere, until now.
How that guy didn't talk straight to her headlights, I'll never know. Enjoy the pictures, but don't be a dick about it.
And while I'm on the subject of beautiful boobies, I'll be closing off entries to the Best Tits 2003 contest this Friday, so if you plan on baring your bubs, you've only got a couple days left. I know that my being out for awhile didn't help the contest much, but we've got some fine looking boobies this year. Winner will get $250 cash, runner up $150, plus some more adult goodies to spread around the ladies. Remember, quality, not quantity baby!
Go Red Sox!
Collarbone! Shoulder! To Your Corners!
They say those that ignore history are doomed to repeat it. I remembered this today while driving up to the orthopedic specialist's office to have my shoulder looked at. The last time I had been in such a place was when I had broken my foot on an ATC accident at age 13. Now here I am some moons later, a month after nose diving on my ATV, with a shoulder that sounds like popcorn when I reach upwards. Yep, mom always said I was a fast learner.
Survey says? I have (a) a torn rotator cuff. This I had kinda thought at first, but later discarded this theory it in favor of my second self-diagnosis ...(b) a separated shoulder. Turns out I have both. You see, the finger bone connects to the hand bone. The hand bone connects to the arm bone. Arm bone connects to the shoulder bone. And the shoulder bone (at a spot called the acromion) connects to the collar bone (clavicle) ...or rather an "arcomioclavicular joint injury" as the docs call it. When the ligaments that hold your collarbone onto this bony protrusion (hee hee) on your shoulder blade tear, allowing some movement in the collar bone, then congratulations you have a "separated shoulder". Do not pass Go, do not beat off with that arm, do not collect $200.
There, a little medical knowledge for you.
This event has raised my intrigue about entering the field of medicine. Not because I want to heal people in pain, fuck that, but for the money. Yeah this ortho guy looked at me for maybe a total of 15 minutes. Had me stand and do all kinda of arm exercises to assess range of motion and pain levels. Even looked at four x-rays of my shoulder and nodded several times. Not that I'm ungrateful, not by any means. I'm more than happy to shovel out co-pay after co-pay for the warm fuzzy feeling of knowing everything is where it's supposed to be.
Figure this 20 minute office visit fee (15 minutes w/doctor and 5 having x-rays shot) will be billed probably somewhere in the neighborhood of about $140. Of that, subtract $25 for the radiology technician ($50k/year) shooting the x-rays, another $20 for the nurse ($40k/year) who walked me to the exam room and took my blood pressure (120 over 80 if you must know), and another $15 for the admin assistant ($30k/year) who took my insurance information, and we have $80. Let's knock off another $10 for medical malpractice insurance, yielding Doc Healthy $70 for his 15 minutes, or $280 an hour.
Wednesday morning? I start physical therapy with "Lorraine" to treat my rotator cuff and ac injury. Lorraine. Yeah baby. Either means some 22 year old hottie who just earned her degree in sports medicine, OR, a hairy middle aged divorcee who chainsmokes through her beefy, sausage like fingers.
But alas, I am hopeful.
Is Your Mind In The Gutter?
Take a look at this picture and take a moment to figure out what you see.
Research has shown that young children cannot identify the intimate couple because they do not have prior memory associated with such scenario. What they will see are the nine dolphins.
This is a test to determine if you already have a corrupted mind. If it's hard for you to find the dolphins within 3 seconds, your mind is indeed corrupted, undoubtedly looking at too much whale cock.
how to properly unfold an American flag
I Have Trouble Sleeping Now.
My job requires me to have a pager. I’m not sure how your job deals with contacting you after hours. But where I work, every fucking moron with the mental capability to dial 11 numbers in a row can contact me, anytime, day or night with their computer problems. You should hear some of the stuff that I get. But that is not why I am writing. It could be worse; I could work for this company.
Now I have the Skytel pager. It is the “guaranteed to get the message so you can’t fucking hide” model. It is about the size of a small microwave oven. It needs six D cell batteries, and has about the same magnetic field as a turbine at the Hoover Dam. Not to mention the indigo light on it. I can direct an F/A-18 onto the deck of the Enterprise in heavy fog at night with this thing.
So one night a couple of months ago, about 10 o’clock, I am just getting ready to go to bed. My pager goes off. But, instead of the normal asshole calling to ask a stupid question, I get a more unusual call. The text message just read, “The core is running over temp. Contact SM ASAP for instructions. We need assistance." Followed by a phone number.
Now I am not one to panic easily, however this one did get my full attention. So I call the number right away. Now the gentleman on the other end of the phone did not put my mind at ease. This guy, we’ll call him "Bill of Arabia", did not speak English very well. He was quite upset, and was not listening to me at all. I simply was trying to tell him that he had called the wrong pager number, and that he should call the right person. The conversation went sort of like this..
|Bill: (with a stammering and thick Arabic accent) “Hello.”|
|Me: (calmly stating to him) “Hi, I just got a page from someone here, and I think that you have the wrong number.”|
|Bill: (with a note of arrogance) “NO, we need assistance. You call right number.”
|(hmm, a communication barrier, we can work through this)|
|Me: (this time speaking slower) “NO, I am not the person you are trying to call. You called the wrong number.”|
|Bill gets upset at this point. He then started spewing out something very unintelligible to someone else in the room with him. It sounded like “Why come they can ged right? Now I am getting a little nervous at this point and trying to talk over his rant, “Hello? HELLO!”|
|Bill: (back from his rant) “Who am I speaking to?” |
|Me: "Ernie" (First name only, incase there is a federal inquiry later.|
|Bill: “Let me talk to you head technician.”|
|Me: “There is no head technician, YOU paged the wrong number.”|
|Bill: “NO! You called the right number we need to have assistance. We are running over temperature!” (we’re all gonna die!)|
|So then at that point I decide to try something else, as I am not getting anywhere with Bill. So I ask to speak to the “SM” from the message, this guy sounded important.|
|Bill: “I am the damn Shift Manager!”|
|Ok, now what? Wait! I have an idea...|
|Me: “Let me talk to the other person in there with you.”|
|Bill however is a bit of a power freak. He would have none of it. He is in charge. He is running things. He is God. After a short argument, and me just kindly stating “I don’t care who the fuck you are, and who the fuck he is. Let me talk to the other fucking person there.” He then relented and handed over the phone. I think I could hear him crying at that point. But alas, it did not get better. That is when I get the pleasure of speaking to another gentleman. We will call him Dumbass. So this Dumbass gets on the phone. With a voice that crosses between a southern accent and a child with Downs Syndrome...|
|Me: (trying to remain as calm) “Look. This other guy called the wrong person. He dialed the wrong number, and needs to call the right person.”|
|Now this is when I realized that there is a good chance that humans will be extinct long before a comet falls out of the sky and plows into the Pacific. There was a long pause, a good 4 or 5 seconds before Dumbass replied|
|Yeah?! Yeah what?!! Now I was not sure if Dumbass understood me at all. Was his “Yeah?” a question or a statement? So I asked him...|
|Me: “Do you understand? He will need to page a tech again. Can you tell him that?”|
|Dumbass did not reply.. “Hello?” I asked. No response.. “Hello!.. Nothing. (We're doomed. We’re all dead) After about half a minute...|
|WHAT? 'OK' WHAT!? Were all fucking doomed...|
|Me: “Did you tell him?”|
|Dumbass: “Yeah.” (probably filling his own lap with drool)|
|Me: “So you guys are all right? You’ll call the tech?”|
|Dumbass: “Yeah.” |
Still impressed with his extensive grasp of the English language, I then extend my salutations and hung up the phone. Now that I was wide awake, I then glued myself to the TV, if something blows up, CNN will let me know. They are good about stuff like that. After about another 3 hours, I was getting sleepy, and my nervousness had subsided. I went to bed with the comfort of knowing that Bill of Arabia and Dumbass of Pennsyltucky are all that stands between a nuclear winter and us.