Mines that blow up and ruin gardens

Investor’s Business Daily has an outstanding article that ticks off 97 reasons the dems suck at defense. It puts into several-decade perspective the current threats we face. It is sadly ironic that Reagan developed mental issues and went mute, and Carter developed the same and can’t shut up.

Those Iranian guys are so funny. If anyone believes this drivel, they must be illiterate. It seems Iran is suggesting that they told Japan to go pound sand over a joint oil field development project. Iran is trying to say that they (Iran) took charge of the matter by revoking the agreement.

Japan said the off-shore area is littered with mines, and that Iran jacked the prices. Iran counters with, “mere excuses.” Excuses? Mines and body parts and reneging on price and cost structures are “excuses”?

It should have been no wonder that Iran changed the numbers. Get a load of their math skills: “In February 2004, Iran and Japan's Inpex Corp signed an agreement …” and “Japan should pay a fine for the five-year delay in implementation of the contract.” February 2004 to September 2006 is 32 months. Thirty-two months spread out over five of some unit of time (Iranian years) is 6.4 months per unit of time. It’s roughly half of the five-year delay cited. Hey Japan, did they about double the price? I understand the mine-infestation issue, but maybe you should cut them a break on dollars. It’s just a conversion thing from literate to illiterate dollars. You’re not against diversity in the workplace are you? Is this a Muslim thing?

Iran goes on in the article to downplay the role of Japan: “Iranian experts have the capacity to carry out the project at a lower cost and in a very short time” and “[T]he deal merely included drilling of a few wells and construction of an exploitation unit, saying ‘fortunately, it is easy for Iranian experts to drill wells...oil experts currently supervise more than 40 exploitation units.’”

Well, ladies, I’ve been around the block a lot. I’ve afraid of streets so I stick to my block. I know it very well. When someone downplays something as they do above, it suggests to me that the truth is exactly opposite. Ever see someone get punched and say, “that didn’t hurt”? Then you see them wince as they move. So I googled the oil field name and found this. The agreement in question was for US$2.8 billion. That’s a lot of “very short times” (obviously not measured in Iranian years) and “merely … drilling of a few wells.”

So why is Iran bolting, besides the fact that they are amoral? Iran let Japan in only to get billions of dollars in loans. The original deal was US$3B. Iran has already tapped that fully and got more. They have no use for Japan any longer.

Do business with swine, expect to get muddy. Good luck getting your money back!

This site is my favorite seed store to browse. They have vegetable seeds from around the world. It’s too bad I live on top of a culm dump (it’s like a narcissistic shale pit (it has Anthracite in its lineage, you know!)) and my garden yields armor-plated bounty. Tomatoes with a shell are not meant to be consumed.

I asked some geekhead years ago where to buy something. ZipZoomFly was the answer. I don’t think I bought anything from there because I thought the particular geekhead in question was a three-letter variant from that label losing one vowel in the process, but maintaining all substitute letters from the same first third of the alphabet. In fairness, the sit does seem to have a lot of stuff. I don’t know nothing about geek prices; judge for yourself. But they do have an open box section – that’s like the discount thingey at Giant where I buy pre-crushed Saltines and bulk cold medicines due to expire in 72 hours.

Speaking of good stuff cheap, this is the best price for pig ears that I could find. My dogs love them. Joking with my best buddy the other day (she’s mad at me right now, sigh): bumper sticker, “My Border Collie was Student of the Month at Your Kid’s School.”

Speaking of dogs, looks like we are going to build a fence at the US/Mexico border. The dems all voted against it. So funny. Catering to the vocal minority. A country is defined by its borders, ladies. Dennis Miller said on the other day that watching the border at night is like seeing the start of the Boston Marathon only everyone is wearing a poncho. I wonder how many cross-border tunnels we will find during the construction? The public accusation of funneling drugs is off the mark; illegal dem voters is the product coming through.

Enough. Bye.

Spokane is for lovers

Bill Clinton is getting nailed for his overstatements in an interview with Fox News last week concerning his efforts (and demonstrable lack thereof) to combat terrorism. Hillary is jumping ugly on Dean to raise more money because the pubs are crushing them on spending. I sense fear out of both of them. An old saying is tugging at my conservative heartstrings at present: May you live to see your enemies die.

Did you hear that? I think it was dirt being kicked into an open grave. I love the sound pebbles make when they descend six feet and bounce off a casket. No, two caskets. Think Hillary is homely now? Just wait until the fires of Hell burn her head bald. Methinks Billy Jeff will be mistaken often for WC Fields, but will lack the pleasant aroma of distilled spirits.

Public Service Announcement. A reader in Spokane, Washington, logging in through Comcast on September 26 at 1:15 A.M. local time, asked google, “is it ok to masterbait my dog?” Of course, my site came up numero uno on the search and he (presumably not she) clicked on through.

Dear Reader: What are thinking, dude? C’mon. Leave the dog alone. You’ll feel horrible when you wake up to the dog humping your back and barking out in doggie language, “more, more, more.” It just ain’t right, buddy. If you are concerned about the dog’s sex life, then take him to the pound and pick out some nice little foo-foo mutt he can bang all night long. Watch if you need to. If you are that lonely yourself, rent a movie – as long as it isn’t a Lassie flick. Go to a strip club, a porn shop. Rent a hooker. Find a t-girl. Just leave the dog alone. Please. I’m begging you. Masturbate the poor thing today, and you’ll be blowing it tomorrow. When you finally find a woman and she comes to your apartment, how will you respond when she says, “your dog sure loves you,” and, “ew! What’s that red thing? Is that what I think it is?”?

Dude, I read a lot. Once you enter the animal kingdom, you can never leave. Pretty soon you’ll be driving around with doggie treats in your pocket trying to entice homeless hounds into your car. You’ll watch the Animal Planet channel all the time. Then you’ll start driving into the country and scoping out farms. Your fashion will be dictated by hides and furs. You’ll put bumper stickers on your car with phrases such as, “No Farms, No Food,” “I love my Great Dane,” and “It all feels the same when the lights are out.” The last one will get you into trouble. You’ll have sheep inside your house, and will send to Canada for Viagra without a script. You’ll buy that Natural Male Enhancement product Bob uses and will mix into your dog’s food.

You’ll research starting a puppy mill, and then will selectively breed for bigger penile glands. You will start to have orgies with strange dogs, and word will leak out. That will be your big mistake. Then the ASPCA will send in a team to covertly photo-document your behavior. They will picket your eventual trial and all of Spokane will know that you are the “Puppy Pounder.” You will seek a change of venue to Olympia. It’ll be granted but you will be found guilty anyway. Your cellie in the state pen will make you howl at the moon like a feral dog every time he pounds you. You’ll be rented out for cigarettes to all the girls in the block. Dysentery will set in, and your stool will just drip out of you in a steady stream because your sphincter muscle will be stretched like an old rubber band.

It’s not worth it, man, I’m telling you. A dog is man’s best friend, not his replacement squeezebox. Think this through carefully. Next time you get the urge, look at your dog, think, and then pet him on the head that has two ears. Leave the other one alone. Best of luck, pal. You, too, Fido.

OK. I had hoped to write more, but that PSA just took it out of me. I have to shower and scrub real hard. I may vomit, too.

Bye.

I'll put on your tombstone, "I thank you for dinner."

Did you know that Citgo is subsidiary of the state-owned Petroleos de Venezuela? That means that Citgo is owned by that little guy with the parrot on his shoulder. I will no longer buy their gasoline, but I will urinate at their stations; restroom optional.

Same topic, did you know that Lukoil was a private company in Russia until they started to make too much money? Then that ex-KGB thug running the country nationalized it. Took a couple of billion dollar company for cents on the dollar. Now we see Lukoil gas stations all over. Good thing. I think my prostate needs squeezing – I tinkle a lot.

Bob Dylan’s new album has a great lyric that is apropos – something like, “I’ll drag them all down to Hell, line them up against the wall, and sell them to their enemies.” Brr, eh?

This is an interesting job: “Saltwater Inc. is seeking observers to perform biological sampling on commercial fishing boats off the coasts of Alaska! Duties include collecting representative samples of the catch, sorting, recording and measuring different species and documenting sightings of marine mammals and birdlife. Strenuous working conditions. Opportunities year-round. Training provided. Excellent stair-step salaries and room and board provided while on contract. Requires a B.S. in biology or natural sciences, a college level statistics course, U.S. Citizenship required, and a flexible attitude. E-mail, mail or fax resume and unofficial transcripts to: Saltwater Inc., 733 “N” Street, Anchorage, AK 99501. 907-258-5999 fax; 907-276-3241 phone.”

Here is their website. I wonder why you need a “flexible attitude.” I suspect that the fishermen may size up Saltwater employees as chum for the next fishing run.

Need a wife? Pakistani Sunni Muslim parents seek alliance for their daughter, age 23 years, 5’4”, completed MBBS, doing Internship, iqama holder, slim and beautiful. Boy should be religious, postgraduate medical, engineering, CA, MBA and established from Pakistani origin. Contact e-mail: ashooone@hotmail.com, Mobile: 0561572478.

How about a husband? Indian Hyderabadi Sunni Muslim parents invite alliance for their son, aged 27 years, height 6’0”, BE, MS (Computer Science-USA), working as Software Engineer in USA, from a suitable, religious, educated (BE/MBBS/BDS) and decent family. Contact Mobile: 0501828685, Tel: 03-8605221, e-mail: jalals@kfupm.edu.sa

These people are twisted. The girl is 23. The boy is 27. For the love of Mohamed (PBUH) or Allah or whatever you say, let them find their own squeezebox. Ain’t got nothing to do with you. Maybe that’s why you loser son is 27 and still looking to you to get him a date even though he’s left your country? Cut the apron strings, mama.

From a purely techie point of view, I like this site called BetaNews.

You want out? Need to run for a few years? Here’s the ten steps you need to join the military. Send me a postcard. I’ll send you a care package. Wanna send a care package now? The USO is helping again (still).

It took me a few googles to remember this site. Celebrity Death Pool lets you compete with other people of our ilk in guessing the next celebrity to die. Even if you don’t win, at least you get to root for the death of an irritating person. My money is on Liz Taylor. That woman just bugs me. BUT WAIT!!! They stopped doing it after 911. Bummer. Here’s an alternate where you can win money. $15 entry each calendar year. Pick ten. Most dead wins. Over $2K first prize this year. Time to research the drug and alcohol rehab guest lists; they seem to die regularly. Go Liz!

Remember I told you Russia would have troops at Israel’s doorstep? I hate being right on some things.

I got two dogs. My best buddy and I took them for a walk today. Don’t have one but want to boss one around? Here you go. Now be nice …

I don’t have the focus to get through this site, but it looks interesting and has lots of pictures.

Wow. So, um, this midget puts on a funny hat, right? And he, um, like enters the ring with a bull. Following me? Well, ain’t no little guy gonna take a bull. We know that. But the bull seems to think the midget is a sex toy. Oh my.

Survived this far? Thank you. What do you want to talk about? Clowns are always fun. Ever think your legislator was a clown? Here’s the proof. All bikes purchased must have bells. $100 fine for no bell. And that’s Canadian money. That’s something like a hundred eighteen million in the States. Or twenty-five cents. I forget. Regardless. Bells on bikes required. What’s next – bright red noses? Clowns are everywhere.

The tombstone inscription of Emerson reads, “The passive master lent his hand, To the vast Soul which o'er him planned.” I don’t get it. Yeats: “Cast a cold eye. On life, on death. Horseman, pass by!” Distanced from life; wanted to be left alone. That I understand.

Bye.

To Katrina Croul

Hey, you left a comment concerning the Haze. Thank you. I responded. You may want to search this site using Google below the Jammies thingey over there ==>.

If you want a CD with some Haze on it, e me. We'll coordinate from there. Take care, Clyde

Short people with bad breath shouldn't climb trees

It makes my head spin to read the headlines on Drudge and Lucianne. I love both sites, but like anything they have their limitations.

Drudge is good for knowing if the world still exists and, if not, what happened to it in eight words or less. Beyond that, I sometimes feel dirty reading too much. I do not care about Madonna’s tour or who she is blowing recently. I think the latest Hollywood gossip is completely irrelevant to life. I also do not like that his links have no target window so when you click a link you lose the Drudge homepage. Enough bad. I like his list of newspapers, columnists, and other news sites. I look them over frequently enough that I spot new links. This is the latest new one to catch my eye.

Lucianne is a running list of article posted by members. It’s a good way to catch up on politics (mostly). The entire political spectrum is represented even though the site is conservative. The drill is that when an article is posted, you can link directly to the full text or read the commentary by members. They also top the list with must reads, updated usually only once a day in the morning. Sometimes a new lead will hit or breaking news is tossed in.

On Lucianne now:

“Madonna says her crucifixion something Jesus would do.”

Hunh? Well, he was crucified. We learned that from Mel Gibson’s movie, right? But is this chick suggesting that he would dance and sing on stage, and then re-enact it? If I recall, the guy still had holes in His hands from the first time. I highly doubt he would be game to do it again – I don’t care how much ticket revenue there was.

“The United Nations insisted yesterday that it should control the massive flows of economic aid to Africa in order to avoid a chaotic free-for-all in the world’s poorest continent.”

These people are too funny. They get caught taking oil bribes, they get caught banging local girls in Africa, they get caught totally mismanaging everything they have touched, they appoint cruel dictators as Chairs for Human Rights, their sons are taking bribes – nothing they have ever done has worked. Nothing. And now they want to manage “massive flows of economic aid.” Fool me once, shame on you; fool me thirteen hundred eighty-four times and you may as well just shoot me, I must be beyond help. They want to manage the money. But be pretty young women there, eh?

“Panicky President Jacques Chirac has called crisis talks over al-Qaeda’s threat to hit French targets. This is the same Jacques Chirac who personally vetoed a UN resolution on Iraq in 2002, wrecking hopes of a global alliance against Saddam Hussein.”

Chirac is like a tree frog. I don’t mean that in the frog/French sense. I mean that frogs are supposed to be on the ground, hopping around, eating bugs. You expect to see them next to ponds, maybe hear them as night serenading their tone-deaf beaus. But tree frogs always warrant a second look. “Hey, what you doing in that tree?” you ask, “ain’t you all supposed to be down here?” It’s a frog, alright. Got no issues there. Probably eating bugs. Needs to be careful hopping.

But something is just fundamentally wrong with a frog in a tree. You can’t point to anything in particular. But you think it might hop on your head, don’t you? Nobody thinks a frog at the pond is going to hop on their head. Does a frog, you know, do an excrement thingey? Don’t really care if the frog is sitting on a lily pad. If it’s on a branch over your hear, the excrement possibility comes into play. That is what Chirac is. No, not frog excrement, but that is not a totally incorrect thought.

Chirac brings to mind unnatural things. Like selling military equipment to Iraq in direct violation of the UN ban, and then trying to stop us from going in and finding out. He argues out of all three sides of his mouth (don’t frogs have a kind of triangle thing happening?). The boy is just useless.

Clarence Hill ain’t no more. My students did a long study of his case. They did so well with it. Clarence is/was a cop killer. His appeal went to SCOTUS and they agreed it should be heard in the lower courts. Guess the process went quickly. Oh well. He claimed that it was cruel and unusual to use the drug combo in lethal injection. “It hurts!” was his basic premise. F--- you, Clarence. I hope Hell isn’t too painful for you, buddy.

“Smoking, already linked to several illnesses, may also increase the risk of infection with HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, researchers said on Thursday.”

Wow. Bad enough that they make smokers take their habit into unincorporated areas of Kansas to partake in peace. Now they are claiming this? Stop to think about it. It increases the risk – not is linked to it. Why would it increase the risk? Lifestyle of a smoker, perhaps, being similar to the lifestyle of a drug user or risky sexual habits? I have no problem in believing that risky life styles – sex or drugs – overlaps with unhealthy lifestyle choices such as smoking. I think also that these people are less likely to have good nutrition, including an over-indulgence of snacks including, in particular Cheetos.

So, “Cheetos, already linked to several illnesses (including halitosis), may also increase the risk of infection with HIV …”

“Two of President Bush's staunchest domestic critics leapt to his defense Thursday, a day after one of his fiercest foreign foes called him "the devil" in a scorching speech before the United Nations.

"You don't come into my country; you don't come into my congressional district and you don't condemn my president," Rep. Charles Rangel, D-New York, scolded Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez.

“House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, D-California, was blunt in her criticism of the Venezuelan leader. "He is an everyday thug," she said.”

Do you believe these idiots? Whose talking points did they adopt? Rangel says don’t criticize “my” president? What, Charlie, is that stepping into your turf? I don’t have the heart to Nexis your public statements. And Pelosi? That girl needs a fortnight of escaped-convict-horny-housewife. Maybe that’ll loosen her face just a tad. Can anyone really be pinching one off with paper-cutter accuracy all of the time?

“Something is bugging comedian Margaret Cho. And she's heading north of the border to get it off her chest. "I'm very frustrated with the system that's happening in America right now," said Cho.”

Um, this girl is about three-foot-two and has the mouth of a sailor. If she gains about 30 more pounds and wears funny glasses she’ll be mistaken for that scary woman that talked to demons on Poltergeist.

So Maggie is going to Canada to talk about us? No balls, young girl? Well, ok, good point. Never had any. But that’s secondary. Keep it here! We love to hear you whine!

Hint, Mags – don’t talk about a “system” that is “happening” here. You’re kinda sorta mixing a static thing with an action. It’s confusing to anyone with an IQ over room temperature. But, yeah, you’re right again – that isn’t your target audience. OK. Next.

Naw, tired. Later.

I'm a little teapot, short and stout!

I feel like venting. Sorry. Well, not really; I am not sorry in the least.

I am so sick of Arab big mouths. Libya – do not cross this line. Saddam – the mother of all battles. General – how dare you desecrate Mohammed, PBUH, with political cartoons! General, again – the Pope! Jihad!

Hey, people, shut up! You open your mouths and sound like complete idiots. If you had real talent, then it wouldn’t be this one-up crap you pull. You would have a sustained warfare. Is Iran too cheap to fund a war in the open? You clowns hide in caves, you lie to end hostilities, and you use dribbling idiots as human bombs. You ever see Richard Reid the Shoe Bomb Guy? Is that your trained elite? He couldn’t even think well enough to go into the bathroom to light up. You are fools. Little bugs with oil money.

It’s almost funny that American liberals have stopped so much domestic exploration that we need your oil. Then those same whiny liberals complain about the hit on our civil liberties. They fail to acknowledge that the oil money your idiots got is used to fund high-tech ways of plotting attacks – so we need to infringe on everyone’s rights to get at you. Kinda ironic.

A picture ran yesterday on drudge. This Arab had his face all agape over the Pope’s remarks. He was supposed to look angry. I think he looked like a mental patient. I just saw another pic of a bunch of Arabs with their fists in the air. Looked like Spring Break and a bunch of drunken teenagers. This is supposed to be scary? An Arab op-ed said that the Pope’s remarks could lead to war. On, my! War! On, no! Please! Stop! Don’t make us kill you! Please!

Let’s see if I can make up a proverb. He who threatens much but can do little will soon wash into the sea. Another. He who threatens war but is a pussy is soon lapping milk in the corner on a leash.

You people are just pathetic. You are a bunch of pussys with money and no brains. Period. End of story. Next.

I feel a little better for having written that. Actually, better for having finished writing it. Dwelling with those scumbags, even if just in prose, makes me feel dirty.

Some words

Things I wish I said

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose. (Janis, the homeliest woman I ever loved from afar.)

A word is not a crystal, transparent and unchanged; it is the skin of a living thought and may vary greatly in color and content according to the circumstances and time in which it is used. (U.S. Supreme Court Associate Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. – or “Wendy” on the drag queen circuit. Exceptional writer. But should avoid heels, his butt just wasn’t high and tight enough.)

No. Fu— you. Leave me alone. (Instead, I said, “yes, let’s go for it.” And the rest is now a part of the National Crime Information Center database associated with my name. Felony – 3 years, 4 months, 14 days, SCI Mahanoy.)

Absence of proof is not proof of absence. (I could never find the right place to stick this in a conversation. I fear I never will. It will be one of my great disappointments in life.)

You were always a good friend to me. Thank you. (To Sam Johnson, Nicholson, PA. Died a bunch of years ago. While I’m at it, although she died during or around 1973, I still think about Kim Rolla, Scranton, PA. I can still see her face from the last time we met. We are 14.)

In theory, there is no difference between theory and practice. But, in practice, there is. (Jan L.A. van de Snepscheut, computer professor. Killed too young. I am presently stressed at work because the academicians are telling us how to teach. They have no clue how clueless they are; yes, a purposeful redundancy to reinforce the concept.)

Bodies of Water for $1,000. Then, What are the Finger Lakes, Alex? (Instead, I got a postcard that read, “After a careful review of your qualifications, Jeopardy! has decided that our viewers would be best served presenting contestants that are not functionally illiterate (For $200, What are You?). Thank you for your interest in Jeopardy! As a consolation, we’ve included some fun stickers with pictures of duckies on them for you!” BTW, I just got a consolation prize in another aspect of my life. No stickers. I was deeply disappointed at the latter.)

Hold you in his armchair, you can feel his disease. (JOL/Macca. Apparently, there is some Beatles-lore controversy over the line. It may be – “…in his arm, yeah you can …” I don’t really care. I always pictured an old man, crippled and covered with dark age spots. A brown sweater with buttons and pockets. A fedora-type hat more visible than his face. Plaid, muted blanket covering his legs that you bought out of desperation because you didn’t know what else to get. He can’t look up too well, but sees you as best he can through a cataract haze. His breathing is shallow but steady. You bend down to hug him and say, “father.” His core temperature is low. It takes a long time for him to raise his arms to touch you – nothing at first, then his fingers move onto your forearms. You are not sure if he is doing it because it seems you won’t pull back and his response is only proper. You are patient and disgusted at the same time; love is not warming at this stage of life. You can feel his sickness as his arms rise to hold you. His embrace not just lingers but deepens. The sweat covering your body dries; you feel as if the desert has come to you. Every bit of your flesh feels parched as the moisture seems to leave your body cell by cell. The sensation and its wake moves from your skin to your veins to your bones. Your lungs expand less, and the beat of your heart now has an unnatural repose. You are filled with weight and fragility. Your vision blurs slightly and the life leaves his body. I’m probably wrong – that’s just what I think of as I hear this line.)

In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. (Martin Luther King Jr. (1929-1968). The liberal voice in this country used to have depth, a conscious, and meaning. Four deaths – JFK, Malcom, Martin, and Bobby – also killed that voice.)

You can’t do that. I know my rights. Get a warrant. (Instead, I consented to a search of my vehicle. Three seeds and useless roach. C’mon. Thirty days for possession of a small amount? What a joke! I don’t fully understand “prior record scores.”)

Things I wish I didn’t say

You can’t do that. I know my rights. Get a warrant. (I didn’t know warrants are so easy and quick to get. Is it illegal for them to strip search me and use that glow-stick thing up my butt before they get a warrant and find my stash?)

No, as a matter of fact. I do not think you are some kind of clown. I think you are the chief clown – the clown that all of the other clowns look up to. Why? (It’s funny. You don’t realize how many deep breaths you take until you have four broken ribs.)

Putz. I said, putz. You deaf or stupid? (Wow. Man, that guy was quick. I remember thinking that I could still hear the lilt in my voice designating the inquisitive nature of my statement at the same time that I heard the beer mug shattering on my forehead. Technically, I was thereafter in a coma, but it was of the minimally conscious variety. That meant that I had a lot of time to think and people mostly left me alone. Lilt … smash, lilt .. smash, lilt . smash, list smash, liltsmash, litstmash, lislmtash, lsimlatsh. Yes, I am certain they overlapped.)

I wonder where this road goes? (I never thought the ad would apply to me until that day: “KY Jelly, because no one should have to squeal like a pig!”)

Short, comatose horses live longer if you put them in booster seats

Articles about comatose people playing tennis in their head are interesting. But statements like this are frightening: Bernat said he had been "humbled" by the latest report.

In context, the doc is “humbled” because the patient met the profile for which he had before and intended to again yank the plug out of the wall socket!

In a feat of self-importance, Bernat the doc said, "This is an important case because it shows us the limitations of the physical exam when we assess awareness at the bedside."

Doc Schiff is more street people: "I can think of patients that we will try this on."

This whole you-dead-yet-or-just-in-a-coma thing is disturbing. First, the docs above – in September 2006 – are saying, “golly gee willikers! Maybe we should talk to them about sports! OK, I know a couple I can do that with!” Then I read about these bedside awareness tests. Ain’t good.

“YO, JIM BOB! YOU HEAR ME, BOY?”
“He moved. I think he moved. You see that?”
“No, I didn’t see nothing.”
“OK, mixed results. Score it a 4 on the Glasgow Coma Score.”

“We need somebody to hit him and see if he winces. Get the maintenance guy.”
SLAP!
“I didn’t see anything. You see anything? Hit him again.”
“You see that? I think his mouth opened a little.”
“I concur, doctor. I will mark the appropriate box on the Institute’s Profile.”
“Thank you, nurse. Call in the family.”

“Mrs. Jim Bob, we are sorry to tell you that Mr. Jim Bob is in a persistent vegetative state. We recommend induced cessation of body functions.”
“What’s dat? You ain’t gonna let him pee anymore?”
“We recommend that we stop artificial life support.”
“You wanna kill him?”
“Well, we prefer a different label, but, yes.”
“OK. Hold on a second.”

“Hey, momma, they wants to kill Jim Bob. Should I let ‘em?”
“He got life insurance?”
“No.”
“Then he’s worth more alive than dead. Go wake him up, honey.”
“Alright, momma.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, I need to be close to my husband for a moment.”
“I understand. You want to pay your final respects. Would you like us to leave?”
“Yeah, something like that. No, ma’am, you all can stay.”

“Hey, Jim Bob, I got’s that sugar liquor likes you said, but your brother’s on his way to drink it.”
“WHAT THE FU--!”

“Doctor, thank you for your time. You’re good people. Jim Bob’ll be leaving with me. You need to sign some papers?”

Speaking of persistent vegetative states, I am grabbing this entertaining article on Kim Jong Il only to make the point that a watchful cop would only be a couple of inches off if he pulled over Kimmy in the US for being driven in a car without a booster seat (or this link because some nice person named Cindy sent it to me, and although it's informative I suspect she's pimping the "get a free quote now!" bit in the sidebar ... but, hey, everyone's gotta earn a living).

Speaking of short people, here are some support groups for the self-conscious. Avoid an attitude about your lack of altitude! Remember that all indigenous peoples are diminutive; tall people are hybrid freaks! Remind others that short people have a 4.7 year longer life expectancy!

Do they really? No, I just made it up. But most people are stupid and would believe you. Say it with conviction. Add convincing details like, that is the mean difference on a weighted average basis for both sexes. It is, of course, longer for women. But don’t go too far! Don’t say, for example, that the extended life expectancy is calculated by taking the inverse reciprocal of the squared differential based upon an individual’s actual deviation from the local population’s mean height. Your target will look at you and say, “but that would mean that the increased life span would accelerate as height is lessened. You are suggesting that a three foot midget will live to be 95!” No one will believe that a complete human physiology can be crammed into 36 inches and live that long.

If you do go down this path, there is hope! Tell your target that miniature horses live one-third longer than full-size horses. Many times, adding another species is enough to tilt a common listener. If this happens, quietly take the money in front of them on the bar and slip out the door.

Enough. Bye.