…to get on the ballot for New Jersey Governor. Seems someone with some real firepower is thinking about running. Oh, God bless the Garden State. I really mean that.
“SATURDAY Night Live” alum Joe Piscopo (above), who’s eyeing a run for New Jersey governor, is already thinking like a politician. He gave an interview to Steppin’ Out magazine’s Chaunce Hayden, then immediately tried to retract it. Among the remarks he’d rather take back: “The guys who put Jesse Ventura in office want to put me in . . . I would really enjoy being governor and it would be such an honor. Plus, there’re no scandals in my life that would pop up later,” mused Piscopo. Except one: “OK, I ran off with the baby sitter!” said the comic, who has been married to Kimberly since 1997. “How am I going to hide that?”
(Which is much nicer than my being pissy about it like Mr. Summers, ’cause I can’t go either.)
Since Bingley has already posted this week’s Swilling entry, I thought I’d pass along a bittersweet but fascinating Pravda Op-Ed piece (lifted in it’s entirety for whiney Jersey Boy Fly) about the closing of a Times Square institution:
With decanters of Martinis or Manhattans for one of the best Happy Hours ever, or the tender fried clam sandwich our Dad always ordered, you could count on that blue roof. The contributer to today’s page on the subject momentarily stunned me. Fried clam strips, orange and blue color scheme, great American french fries and…Jaques Pépin?!! Yup. How cool is that?
But we knew this was a danger, oh yes, we knew that, given his fragile state of mind this could be the very thing that reduced a once proud man to a shattered hulk. Yes, gentle readers, our beloved Ken, still reeling from a world-wide dearth in Lesbian Gorilla News, and facing the unfathomable horror and humiliation of not being able to stand and say “Present” when attendance is taken tomorrow night at what may well be the greatest gathering of minds since that golden confluence that gave us the Twinkie and Little Debbie Cakes, our dear dear Ken has fallen to this.
A moment of silence please, and let us all wish him godspeed in his tilting at the many hundreds of windmills that surround the valley of his home. And reinstalling XP.
We were eating a quiet dinner that was shattered by the ferocious ringing of the doorbell. Our plates clattered to the table as we raced to open the front hatchway, only to be confronted by another piece of duct tape holding another horrific photo and repeated demands for Miller Lite. Yes. Officer Lotto. He’d fooled no one. Bless you JeffS, for asking. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.
UPDATE: A new note, taped in the driveway. (Photo below) They’re getting desperate and starting to crack.
Donald Sensing says here. We need the new refineries, but first we need to do something about all the different blends that the envirowhackos demand. Vehicles are running much cleaner these days, and we could produce more usable gas if we only had one blend to contend with. And yes, I think this rises to the level that the Feds could tell the state EPAs to stuff it. But it will never happen…sigh…
Oh yeah, and more Nuke plants, too.
If you are looking for a nice peaty Scotch, and I know you are, but you’re somewhat afraid of Laphraoig, then Bowmore 12 Yr may be the scotch for you. It has a smooth peatiness with a honeyed finish. Ok, that sounds pompous as hell but trust me: pour yourself a glass and you will know exactly what I mean.
Or, you could be like me and drink it out of one of these:
a pewter Jefferson Cup. I don’t want to hear any crap about Waterford crystal; I like drinking out of these cups. I have many fond memories (and many more indistinct ones) of drinks in these cups.
…Lt. Presley O’Bannon added the ‘Shores of Tripoli‘ to the Marines’ Hymn. It’s a great story. Semper Fi.
There, on 27 April 1805, with bombardment support provided by Hornet, Nautilus, and Argus, Lt. O’Bannon led his force through a hail of musketry and stormed the principal edifices. The enemy was routed in such haste that they left their guns loaded and primed. Lt. O’Bannon planted the United States flag upon the ramparts, then turned the guns upon the enemy. The stronghold was occupied after some two hours of hand-to-hand fighting, and for the first time in history the flag of the United States flew on foreign soil.
Remember our ongoing litany? Another former Jarhead who blogs has seen fit to wade into the fray. (Major Dad found him courtesy of FoxNewsdotcom.) See? We’re not the only cranky anti-entitled children grouches out there! Ah. Strength in numbers. Read it and weep.
Two patients I had to deal with today were real works of art.
Although one was male and one was female, they both were 14 years old and each of them weighed more than my 6″1′ large-and-in-charge overweight ass.
Mostly it was the guy who bothered me. In certain cultures, no matter his age, boys are considered superior to girls. Even if a boy is 4 years old and hasn’t quite mastered toilet training yet, without the dad around, he is the master of the house, lording over even his own mother.
What this means is that mom caters to his every desire, and about the time he turns 14, he has been enabled into helplessness. He has been getting along so long on the industry of others that he no longer knows how to do things without them. He ends up turning into a blubbering mass of chewed bubble gum every time someone puts any sort of tasks upon him. Tell him to sit in a chair as opposed to lying in bed, and he starts crying and screaming “I caaaaaaaan’t.”
It’s supposed to be around 47 degrees here in Pensacola come Sunday morning. They’re teasing us with a chance at setting record lows. This is what will be left when the Oriskany’s moorings are crushed by the impending ice flow, now in full retreat from Antarctica.
The first and only Marine to be Joint Chief.
“The first thing America needs to know about Pete Pace is that he is a Marine,” Bush said. “To the American people, the Marine is shorthand for can-do*, and I’m counting on Pete Pace to bring the Marine spirit to these new responsibilities.”
*to terrorists, the Marine is shorthand for “Oh shit, we’re screwed!”
If you’re looking for a good round up of the brouhaha about Pope Benedict XVI’s past the ever wonderful Baldilocks is a great place to start.
What amazes me, and saddens me too, about all these christians who have worked themselves up into a lather about his election is that they seem to have forgotten about guys named, oh I dunno, say Augustine and Paul?
It seems to me that these guys were carrying a lot more baggage than ‘ol Ben is.
In honor of Earth Day I told my bride I was picking up a big steak to grill, because something needs to die.
And I think I’ll have some rice grown in the San Joaquin Valley as a side.
And I’m going to wash it down with this, because I reckon that a distillery has got to be a lot less Earth Day-esque than a vineyard.
Please post your plans below.
Please recycle a bottle or hug a tree. And why should you celebrate with Sod Off Swampy t’s and mugs, proudly printed in Pensacola? Exhibit A: a note I wrote to Cafepress last night.
this sort of crap
is exactly why we didn’t use your service when we designed our t’s. there’s no way my name as an artist would ever be associated with a business who has no social decency, just their hands out for the cash. and your cute dog on the email, with his lame explanation of your lack of standards doesn’t fool anyone, or excuse you.
An Atheist walked through the woods exclaiming “What majestic trees!
“What powerful rivers! What beautiful animals!”
As he was walking alongside the river, he heard a rustling in the
bushes behind him. He turned to look and saw a 7-foot grizzly charge
towards him. He ran as fast as he could up the path. He looked over
his shoulder and saw that the bear was closing in on him. He looked
over his shoulder again, and the bear was even closer.
He tripped and fell on the ground. He rolled over to pick himself up
but saw that the bear was right on top of him, reaching for him with
his left paw and raising his right paw to strike him.
At that instant the Atheist cried out, “Oh my God!!!”
Time Stopped. The bear froze. The forest was silent. As a bright
light shone upon the man, a voice came out of the sky.
“You deny my existence for all these years, teach others I don’t
exist and even credit creation to cosmic accident. Do you expect me
to help you out of this predicament? Am I to count you as a
The Atheist looked directly into the light,
“It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly ask You to treat me as a
Christian now, but perhaps You could make the BEAR a Christian?”
“Very Well,” said the voice.
The light went out. The sounds of the forest resumed. And the bear
In the continuing saga of our Wendy’s Chili eater, it seems she has now been arrested.
I had to chuckle at this line in the story:
Sales have dropped at franchises in Northern California, forcing layoffs and reduced hours, the company said. Wendy’s also has hired private investigators, set up a hot line for tips and offered a $100,000 reward for anyone who provides information leading to the finger’s original owner.
Heh. Seems to me they already had all the tips they wanted.
Remember in the Oriskany post below, where I was cranky about slide rule types saying ‘trust us’ with John providing the Greek Chorus in the background? No warm fuzzies left, since the goobs with the slide rulers are these guys:
A section of Lee Roy Selmon Expressway collapsed near 50th Street.
Still at issue is whether URS probed deep enough under the piers to design the supports for different soil types. The authority and URS will attempt to resolve the issue during mediation in August.
That was only a year ago. Your tax dollars at work.
Swill Salute to: Mr. Bill
Major Dad found this obituary in Pravda today. Holy moly, what a story! (A Pulitzer Prize winning one, to be exact.)
Lt. Cmdr. Wheeler B. Lipes, who performed a storied appendectomy while a pharmacist’s mate aboard a submarine in the Pacific during World War II, died on Sunday in New Bern, N.C. He was 84.
The cause was pancreatic cancer, said his daughter-in-law, Berniece Lipes.
On Sept. 11, 1942, Pharmacist’s Mate Lipes become a surgeon aboard the submarine Seadragon, on patrol at a depth of 120 feet in the South China Sea.
A 19-year-old seaman from Kansas, Darrell Dean Rector, had suffered appendicitis. With the Seadragon about a week’s journey from the nearest Allied port, in Australia, the skipper, Lt. Cmdr. William Ferrall, obtained Seaman Rector’s permission for surgery by a team of sailors, not one of them a doctor.
Pharmacist’s Mate Lipes had observed several appendectomies as a laboratory technician at a naval hospital in Philadelphia, so he was designated to lead the surgical team, amid much trepidation.
We’ve got the whole thing here. Read it.
Bread needs a warning label. For example:
9. Bread has been proven to absorb water. Since the human body is more than 90 percent water, it follows that eating bread could lead to your body being taken over by this absorptive food product, turning you into a soggy, gooey bread-pudding person*.
(*See South Park portrait below) Read the rest and change your life while there’s still time.