Wednesday, April 22, 2009

This right here a righteous hot mess, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Patent pending
The Octomom has copyrighted the name Octomom. Her copyright on the term Psycho Skank, however, is still pending.

Get a nice gift
Pamela Anderson is getting married for the fourth time. If you want to get the couple a gift they’re registered at Bed, Bath and Been There, Done That.

Busy guy
President Bush is keeping busy at his ranch in Texas. You know the first dog’s name is Bo Obama? President Bush just loves to go to his well and yell down Bo Obama and here it echo.

Hate to hear that
A guy in Russia underwent lung cancer surgery but, it turns out he had a tree growing in his lungs; the good news is he doesn’t have cancer, the bad news? He has termites and Dutch Elm disease.

In fact, this is the most wood any guy has had in him since, well, Siegfried and Roy’s honeymoon.

New meaning
The US announced it will attempt to seize all assets and properties of the Somali pirates. This brings a whole new meaning to the term: Booty call.

Should I have said slow?
Just two days in the White House and when they asked Bo the first dog how the economy was doing Bo said; “Ruff.”

How bad is it?
The economy is so bad, to raise money, Bo, the first dog, auctioned his first White House rug boo boo on eBay.

Keeping busy
NFL announcer John Madden has retired. It won’t be the same for Madden telestrating shuffleboard plays: “See, he landed his disk on the pointy part, so that’s ten points, but then the other guy, boom, knocked him off to the back, that’s minus ten points.”

That should do it
The New York Yankees got clobbered in the first game at their new Yankee Stadium, 10-2. It was so bad New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg ordered Alex Rodriguez’s cousin to shoot steroids in all the Yankee’s butts.

Since you asked:
Statistics are full of crap.

Statistically, my chances of being killed by a Great White Shark are right up there with winning $100 million in the lottery or getting hit by an airplane part.

But that counts everyone who doesn’t live anywhere near an ocean. But Saturday, with a big-ass Great White Shark about 45 feet away, I would say my chances of getting chomped by Jaws were pretty damn good.

Having said that, after my shark scare, I got to talking to a surfer who, even after I told him about my experience, was undaunted and pulled on his wet suit to head out.

He said something that was pretty funny:

“Let’s say the worst happens. There are far worse ways to go.”

By god, he was right. Right now my chances are high that I am going to go out hit by a luxury SUV in the hands of a drunk-on-Chardonnay Carmel Valley mom yammering away on her cell phone.

I’ll take a shark over that demise any day.



Apart from both being adopted brother and sister and yellow Labradors, Wrigley and Kasey could not be more different. Wrigley T. is a tall, skinny light-to-white houndoggy Lab where Kasey is a more reddish, short honey bear Lab.

Kasey wags her tail in a regulated standard left to right pattern. Wrigley gets so wound up and excited his tail spins around like a propeller. I try to tell him that, one day, he is going to take off flying like a helicopter, but as with most things I tell Wrigley, he listens to little if anything I tell him.