Thursday, June 25, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
News From Tehran!
I hope this news finds all of my faithful happy and cool...It is hot as Satan's sauna here! Yes, I made it back to Tehran. It was difficult, but I disguised myself as a Swiss negotiator. I wore a red cross button on a pair of Lederhosen while swilling down cup after cup of Swiss Miss cocoa. It worked...They aren't too bright!
I managed to sneak in an encrypted satellite phone that I purchased with my back to school grant from President Obama. He was even nice enough to send it to me straight from the National Security Agency. But I just couldn't carry it through customs. I had to put it inside of a robot goat I purchased from Japan that I said was an offering to stop the blood shed. I stuffed it with cigarettes and samples of Drakkoir Noir. As soon as the goat was opened, I dove on the phone and climbed through the pile of customs workers fighting for the goodies left inside.
I managed to meet up with my contact named "Bob" and made it to a safe house. From there I applied a liberal dose of self tanning lotion, grabbed my sling shot, gas mask, back pack of Molotov cocktails, and Jack Daniels in case of wounds--I would not want an infection or a cut that I could feel!
I made it to the streets earlier today just as the riot police fired cans of tear gas into the crowd. I had a megaphone, with a taped message made by Jesse Ventura in Farsi, that informed the crowd that all of their cigarettes were in the pockets of the cops. The crowd broke out into a blood curdling scream that would have sent all 300 Spartans running for their home.
I hung back with the intellectual crowd and asked them what they wanted from these acts of direct civil obedience. Here is a list of some of the things that they desire:
I managed to sneak in an encrypted satellite phone that I purchased with my back to school grant from President Obama. He was even nice enough to send it to me straight from the National Security Agency. But I just couldn't carry it through customs. I had to put it inside of a robot goat I purchased from Japan that I said was an offering to stop the blood shed. I stuffed it with cigarettes and samples of Drakkoir Noir. As soon as the goat was opened, I dove on the phone and climbed through the pile of customs workers fighting for the goodies left inside.
I managed to meet up with my contact named "Bob" and made it to a safe house. From there I applied a liberal dose of self tanning lotion, grabbed my sling shot, gas mask, back pack of Molotov cocktails, and Jack Daniels in case of wounds--I would not want an infection or a cut that I could feel!
I made it to the streets earlier today just as the riot police fired cans of tear gas into the crowd. I had a megaphone, with a taped message made by Jesse Ventura in Farsi, that informed the crowd that all of their cigarettes were in the pockets of the cops. The crowd broke out into a blood curdling scream that would have sent all 300 Spartans running for their home.
I hung back with the intellectual crowd and asked them what they wanted from these acts of direct civil obedience. Here is a list of some of the things that they desire:
- Paris Hilton sex tapes;
- Micheal Jackson live in Revolution Square;
- A national referendum to ban Angelina Jolie from adopting Iranian children;
- A wet Chador (the body length black cloak) contest with the losers stoned to death;
- Iranian Idol;
- Showers;
- Toilets;
- A Susan Boyle live compilation album;
- Hillary Clinton in a Chador;
- Botox--Now!;
- Grass;
- Rain;
- Proposition 9 that bans the lewd and lascivious act of "goat roping". (I didn't ask);
- Chrysler Automobiles;
- Kool Cigarettes;
- Death to radio host Delilah;
- A Spice Girls Reunion;
- Music on MTV;
- ipods for their bootlegged music;
- Donny Osmond to become Supreme Leader of all of Iran.
The youth of Iran are deeply centered around the political future of their country based upon these simple demands.
I wanted to continue my conversation, but "Bob" has arranged for a meeting with Ahmadinejad, so I must go prepare. But in all honesty the one factor that all of the talking heads have ignored to date, is what will the Iranian armed forces do? They have the strength and power to seize the country in a coup, but will they. If the country falls, what happens to the nuclear weapons program?
I will explore these answers tomorrow. After my interview, I am headed to the nuclear reactors with a special laser "camera" that President Obama told me to hold very steady and wait for something really neat to happen. Oh I can't wait. I can't figure out why it has United States Army Special Operations Forces Laser Marker written on the side. Hmm...only time will tell.
Friday, June 19, 2009
The Count Down Begins!
The Iranian reformers have been ordered to cease their activities. If they march on Saturday then there will be bloodshed. The clock is ticking. Tomorrow determines the outcome of many political positions.
If the hardliners win and take power, look to see an Israeli attack within 90 days. If the reformers take over, well then the sky is the limit.
The entire security of the Middle East for the next twenty years will be determined in the next week. Or it could be just one big all night dance-a-thon. Who knows.
If the hardliners win and take power, look to see an Israeli attack within 90 days. If the reformers take over, well then the sky is the limit.
The entire security of the Middle East for the next twenty years will be determined in the next week. Or it could be just one big all night dance-a-thon. Who knows.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Friday is V-Day or D-Day In Iran
Friday marks what could be the most important day in the Iranian conflict. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei has announced that he will lead Friday's prayers. Why is this important? He is the true power in Iran. He is the man that can rig elections. He is the man that can send Mr. Member's Only jacket back to the thrift store. He is the man that can stop a revolution. Ah the word revolution!
After the fall of the Shah by the exuberant Iranian youth, they went on to build a wacky little regime. But the most significant social issue that is at the heart of the election issue is the Iranian birth rate. Youth represent over 60% of the Iranian population. This should serve as a sign to the Ayatollah of things to come.
It was the youth of his generation that ousted the Shah and danced to Irish folk music on top of the American Embassy. Now it is the youth taking to the streets demanding reform. If the Ayatollah leads his prayers and then declares that the merciful Allah prefers Mr. Member's Only jacket as the leader of Iran, then there is the real possibility of a second revolution in Iran.
We shall have to wait and see, but the ultimate question is what if there is a revolution? Will the Revolutionary guards slaughter their own population to maintain the government? If they do, the current regime is doomed. They will have gone full circle and resorted to the same tactics that led to the fall of the Shah. If they passively allow the youth to over throw the government, then will that lead to a complete economic and civil collapse of the country? Only time will tell.
Friday is a chance for Iran to come out of the dark and into the light. If they elect a reformer that is open to relaxing the stringent religious laws, open up negotiations with the west, place a hold on nuclear armament, reduce terrorists training for attacks on the Israeli population, acknowledge that Israel is a country and has the right to exist, pulls their weapons support programs out of Iraq, and basically stops being a pimple on the world's rear end, then Iran could sustain a period of growth unequaled in the current Middle East political structure.
In essence, Iran could replace Saudi Arabia as the theatre super power. But that is too simple. I suspect that they will say little and do nothing with regards to the election. If that is the result then stand back because that country will set to blow up like a powder keg. I'll keep you informed as results from my homing pigeons start coming in since the Internet and cell phone links to my contacts have been severed.
After the fall of the Shah by the exuberant Iranian youth, they went on to build a wacky little regime. But the most significant social issue that is at the heart of the election issue is the Iranian birth rate. Youth represent over 60% of the Iranian population. This should serve as a sign to the Ayatollah of things to come.
It was the youth of his generation that ousted the Shah and danced to Irish folk music on top of the American Embassy. Now it is the youth taking to the streets demanding reform. If the Ayatollah leads his prayers and then declares that the merciful Allah prefers Mr. Member's Only jacket as the leader of Iran, then there is the real possibility of a second revolution in Iran.
We shall have to wait and see, but the ultimate question is what if there is a revolution? Will the Revolutionary guards slaughter their own population to maintain the government? If they do, the current regime is doomed. They will have gone full circle and resorted to the same tactics that led to the fall of the Shah. If they passively allow the youth to over throw the government, then will that lead to a complete economic and civil collapse of the country? Only time will tell.
Friday is a chance for Iran to come out of the dark and into the light. If they elect a reformer that is open to relaxing the stringent religious laws, open up negotiations with the west, place a hold on nuclear armament, reduce terrorists training for attacks on the Israeli population, acknowledge that Israel is a country and has the right to exist, pulls their weapons support programs out of Iraq, and basically stops being a pimple on the world's rear end, then Iran could sustain a period of growth unequaled in the current Middle East political structure.
In essence, Iran could replace Saudi Arabia as the theatre super power. But that is too simple. I suspect that they will say little and do nothing with regards to the election. If that is the result then stand back because that country will set to blow up like a powder keg. I'll keep you informed as results from my homing pigeons start coming in since the Internet and cell phone links to my contacts have been severed.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad Elected?
Sorry for taking so long to write. After leaving Mumbai, in a hurry I must say, I headed to Tehran for the elections. I brought my all green suit since I was told it was going to be green as St. Patty's day!
The day started off like any usual day in Tehran. I left my dingy hotel room and hailed a cab to the closest polling station. Hey when in Tehran do as the Tehranians do--vote. I showed up in green and inked my vote for the other fellow whose name I cannot pronounce.
The streets were full of happy Iranians soaked in their favorite cologne to cover up their ungodly stench. It didn't work, the place still smelled like a Mexican whore house or so I'm told. We were dancing in the street and beating each other with palm leaves. They can party like crazy people over there.
When the polling stations closed, a man with a bullhorn blurted out in true Farsi gibberish that Ahmadinejad was defeated. Not so fast my friend! The man fighting to bring Member's Only jackets back into style was not going down quietly.
Soon police and soldiers entered the polling stations and began burning all of the ballots. The crowd reacted with blood lust to the news that Ahmadinejad was elected in a land slide. Palm leaves were exchanged for rocks, Molotov cocktails, swords, a medieval mace, and midgets.
Midgets and rocks soon flew through the air to the fear and dismay of the police and soldiers. A General announced that his men would begin using live ammunition if the crowd continued to use the feared weapon of little people. The crowd responded with a wave of small hands and feet flying through the air. I have to give it up to the little people, they were pissed! They flew through the air with teeth gnashing ready to tear apart any Achilles tendon they could find.
The police reacted violently and sent in the Iranian first armored division. Men on Vespa motor scooters roared into town at an amazing 20 mph with a shooter riding "bitch". The scene was something out of a bad Meatloaf video. I was laughing hysterically by this point. I could not believe my eyes. Can you believe midget bombs and Vespa armor! And we fear these people. I say let them have nukes, they'll accidentally cross a few wires and it is free oil for the world!
I began shouting in Zulu, as it seemed appropriate, and attacked a soldier with a mop. He wet himself and fled on a Vespa ambulance to the nearest field hospital. The scene was out of hand. When the bullets flew, I headed back to my hotel and snatched my trusty bottle of whiskey from the cutout Koran I carried into the country. (Travel tip--they won't search a Koran, so you can hide anything you want in there.)
The night passed with bond fires of little people lighting up the sky. The Iranian first armored division, Vespa mounted, was in full retreat. But the crowd would not relent. I of course was transmitting all of this data on my secure satellite phone back to all of the news networks. I'm sure you saw my footage on all of the major cable and television shows.
The crowd eventually dispersed to my dismay, but thankfully it was only for morning prayers. They were back at daylight armed with new weapons of mass destruction. I guess the midget population was pretty thinned out, so they armed themselves with goats. Some engineer even managed to produce a goat catapult. Future Kabobs soon blocked out the morning sun.
The police and army returned with a vengeance. This time they were mounted inside of old VW beetles. The scene turned ugly. There were head scarves and beards flying everywhere. A secondary riot broke out when it was discovered that Tehran's entire inventory of cigarettes was used up. The crowd blamed Admadinejad for their lack of smokes and charged the army and police. That's when the bloodshed turned the brown streets red.
I kept sending all of my reports back home, but soon the military traced the signal to my phone. My door was kicked in and I was rudely taken from my room. They drove me to the country and strapped me to a camel. They pointed it towards Iraq and slapped its ass. It must have run quickly because it only took me a day and a half to reach a United States Special Forces team deep inside the Iranian border. They were kind enough to call in a Black Hawk helicopter for my rescue.
The Black Hawk pilots dropped me off at Baghdad International Airport where I was able to catch a ride home on General Odierno's personal jet. I'm glad to be home, but I will never be able to cleanse the image of evil midgets flying through the air. Oh well. I've applied for a return visa to Tehran, but I suspect that it will be denied. I'll keep you updated.
The day started off like any usual day in Tehran. I left my dingy hotel room and hailed a cab to the closest polling station. Hey when in Tehran do as the Tehranians do--vote. I showed up in green and inked my vote for the other fellow whose name I cannot pronounce.
The streets were full of happy Iranians soaked in their favorite cologne to cover up their ungodly stench. It didn't work, the place still smelled like a Mexican whore house or so I'm told. We were dancing in the street and beating each other with palm leaves. They can party like crazy people over there.
When the polling stations closed, a man with a bullhorn blurted out in true Farsi gibberish that Ahmadinejad was defeated. Not so fast my friend! The man fighting to bring Member's Only jackets back into style was not going down quietly.
Soon police and soldiers entered the polling stations and began burning all of the ballots. The crowd reacted with blood lust to the news that Ahmadinejad was elected in a land slide. Palm leaves were exchanged for rocks, Molotov cocktails, swords, a medieval mace, and midgets.
Midgets and rocks soon flew through the air to the fear and dismay of the police and soldiers. A General announced that his men would begin using live ammunition if the crowd continued to use the feared weapon of little people. The crowd responded with a wave of small hands and feet flying through the air. I have to give it up to the little people, they were pissed! They flew through the air with teeth gnashing ready to tear apart any Achilles tendon they could find.
The police reacted violently and sent in the Iranian first armored division. Men on Vespa motor scooters roared into town at an amazing 20 mph with a shooter riding "bitch". The scene was something out of a bad Meatloaf video. I was laughing hysterically by this point. I could not believe my eyes. Can you believe midget bombs and Vespa armor! And we fear these people. I say let them have nukes, they'll accidentally cross a few wires and it is free oil for the world!
I began shouting in Zulu, as it seemed appropriate, and attacked a soldier with a mop. He wet himself and fled on a Vespa ambulance to the nearest field hospital. The scene was out of hand. When the bullets flew, I headed back to my hotel and snatched my trusty bottle of whiskey from the cutout Koran I carried into the country. (Travel tip--they won't search a Koran, so you can hide anything you want in there.)
The night passed with bond fires of little people lighting up the sky. The Iranian first armored division, Vespa mounted, was in full retreat. But the crowd would not relent. I of course was transmitting all of this data on my secure satellite phone back to all of the news networks. I'm sure you saw my footage on all of the major cable and television shows.
The crowd eventually dispersed to my dismay, but thankfully it was only for morning prayers. They were back at daylight armed with new weapons of mass destruction. I guess the midget population was pretty thinned out, so they armed themselves with goats. Some engineer even managed to produce a goat catapult. Future Kabobs soon blocked out the morning sun.
The police and army returned with a vengeance. This time they were mounted inside of old VW beetles. The scene turned ugly. There were head scarves and beards flying everywhere. A secondary riot broke out when it was discovered that Tehran's entire inventory of cigarettes was used up. The crowd blamed Admadinejad for their lack of smokes and charged the army and police. That's when the bloodshed turned the brown streets red.
I kept sending all of my reports back home, but soon the military traced the signal to my phone. My door was kicked in and I was rudely taken from my room. They drove me to the country and strapped me to a camel. They pointed it towards Iraq and slapped its ass. It must have run quickly because it only took me a day and a half to reach a United States Special Forces team deep inside the Iranian border. They were kind enough to call in a Black Hawk helicopter for my rescue.
The Black Hawk pilots dropped me off at Baghdad International Airport where I was able to catch a ride home on General Odierno's personal jet. I'm glad to be home, but I will never be able to cleanse the image of evil midgets flying through the air. Oh well. I've applied for a return visa to Tehran, but I suspect that it will be denied. I'll keep you updated.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Letter to My Dell Technical Support Representative
Dear Raj,
I apologize for not addressing you by your entire name. For some reason, I had a very difficult time understanding you. It could have been my hearing or just a bad connection between Oklahoma City and Mumbai, India. I want to thank you for spending seven hours on the phone with me to fix a very simple computer issue.
As you may recall, I placed a call to my Dell Gold Technical Support hot line. You were kind enough to answer and take down all of the information proving that I was who I said I was. I know you must receive hundreds of calls a day from people looking to spend a chunk of their life on the phone with you that they will never be able to get back.
I had a simple problem. The stand alone monitor connected to my notebook just up and started showing a one inch black border on the top and bottom of the screen. This has happened twice before and in the past the problem was solved in less than 30 minutes. But you my friend are much more thorough and you wanted to find the source of this evil computer configuration.
We began our conversation at roughly 9:00 a.m. central standard time and I want you to know all of the exciting things that happened during our day together. As soon as I realized that you were going to go through every worthless diagnostic procedure, I simply passed you off to a portable phone and began my daily chores.
At around 9:30, I received a can of Poop Freeze by Federal Express from Skymall. While you were asking me to check my video driver settings, I was outside spraying a recent deposit from my trusty chow with this new invention. It worked like a charm. Soon I had a frozen piece of doggy waste that was easy to clean up. A miracle product I say. And no, I do not allow animals to chew on my computer as you suggested. I do not know whether that is a problem in Mumbai, but I prefer not to allow my dog to surf the Internet--there are too many nefarious characters out there for his sensitive and overly friendly nature.
With the miracle of Bluetooth technology, I was able to take you to lunch. We shared a nice grilled chicken salad and glass of ice tea. In deference to your religious practices, I chose not to order beef. I believe we both enjoyed the lunch. And yes, I rebooted my computer every time you told me to do so.
Next we ventured off to the courthouse to file some motions in a case I was working on. It is amazing how I was able to unplug my computer and reinstall all of the software mailed with my shiny new dell three years ago. But we did it. I say we are quite the team.
I then went to my office where I was able to mail four letters, conduct three conference calls, and electronically file three documents in Federal court. You have the patience of a Buddhist god my friend. Just curious, how is life in Mumbai? Did you meet the cast of Slum Dog Millionaire? Sorry for getting off topic, but I have to know. Hey would you like a can of Poop Freeze? I bet you need it there after seeing what life is like in the slums. Do you live in the slums or do you have a plush apartment? Write me back, I am curious.
After reinstalling all of my software, or so you thought, we went to workout. I put in an hour on the treadmill and your demanding voice was better than having a Marine Corps drill instructor singing cadence. Wow you should become a motivational speaker.
Finally, when all else failed, you had me perform a system restore, which was probably the first thing we should have done, back to May 1, 2009 and guess what? Everything worked great.
Raj, I have to say that you are the best. I never knew that I could complete an entire day of work on the phone with a Dell technical rep. I've met several, but you are by far the best. I only understood about four words that you told me, but we fixed the problem. I have to say that Dell is without a doubt the leader in telephone technical support. You guys are fast and thorough and it only took seven hours!
I feel like we became special friends today. I would like to travel to Mumbai to repay you for your services. I have to visit North Korea and Iran as a United States Envoy in the next week, but I'm sure I can make a stop in that most luxurious of cities. Do you have time to show me the sites? Call me. You have all of my contact information and I'd love to meet up with you. Bring your family, I think they would love to see the face of one of your happiest customers.
Oh, I'm going to be mailing you a lead pipe, a pair of rubber gloves, and a giant anchor because I cannot get those through airline security these days. These are standard travel luxuries for any Americans. Hey, I hear that you can take a wonderful boat tour of the Mumbai area. I hear that night time is best. I look forward to seeing you and don't forget to bring the goods I mailed you.
Your pal and favorite customer,
Mr. Suspect
I apologize for not addressing you by your entire name. For some reason, I had a very difficult time understanding you. It could have been my hearing or just a bad connection between Oklahoma City and Mumbai, India. I want to thank you for spending seven hours on the phone with me to fix a very simple computer issue.
As you may recall, I placed a call to my Dell Gold Technical Support hot line. You were kind enough to answer and take down all of the information proving that I was who I said I was. I know you must receive hundreds of calls a day from people looking to spend a chunk of their life on the phone with you that they will never be able to get back.
I had a simple problem. The stand alone monitor connected to my notebook just up and started showing a one inch black border on the top and bottom of the screen. This has happened twice before and in the past the problem was solved in less than 30 minutes. But you my friend are much more thorough and you wanted to find the source of this evil computer configuration.
We began our conversation at roughly 9:00 a.m. central standard time and I want you to know all of the exciting things that happened during our day together. As soon as I realized that you were going to go through every worthless diagnostic procedure, I simply passed you off to a portable phone and began my daily chores.
At around 9:30, I received a can of Poop Freeze by Federal Express from Skymall. While you were asking me to check my video driver settings, I was outside spraying a recent deposit from my trusty chow with this new invention. It worked like a charm. Soon I had a frozen piece of doggy waste that was easy to clean up. A miracle product I say. And no, I do not allow animals to chew on my computer as you suggested. I do not know whether that is a problem in Mumbai, but I prefer not to allow my dog to surf the Internet--there are too many nefarious characters out there for his sensitive and overly friendly nature.
With the miracle of Bluetooth technology, I was able to take you to lunch. We shared a nice grilled chicken salad and glass of ice tea. In deference to your religious practices, I chose not to order beef. I believe we both enjoyed the lunch. And yes, I rebooted my computer every time you told me to do so.
Next we ventured off to the courthouse to file some motions in a case I was working on. It is amazing how I was able to unplug my computer and reinstall all of the software mailed with my shiny new dell three years ago. But we did it. I say we are quite the team.
I then went to my office where I was able to mail four letters, conduct three conference calls, and electronically file three documents in Federal court. You have the patience of a Buddhist god my friend. Just curious, how is life in Mumbai? Did you meet the cast of Slum Dog Millionaire? Sorry for getting off topic, but I have to know. Hey would you like a can of Poop Freeze? I bet you need it there after seeing what life is like in the slums. Do you live in the slums or do you have a plush apartment? Write me back, I am curious.
After reinstalling all of my software, or so you thought, we went to workout. I put in an hour on the treadmill and your demanding voice was better than having a Marine Corps drill instructor singing cadence. Wow you should become a motivational speaker.
Finally, when all else failed, you had me perform a system restore, which was probably the first thing we should have done, back to May 1, 2009 and guess what? Everything worked great.
Raj, I have to say that you are the best. I never knew that I could complete an entire day of work on the phone with a Dell technical rep. I've met several, but you are by far the best. I only understood about four words that you told me, but we fixed the problem. I have to say that Dell is without a doubt the leader in telephone technical support. You guys are fast and thorough and it only took seven hours!
I feel like we became special friends today. I would like to travel to Mumbai to repay you for your services. I have to visit North Korea and Iran as a United States Envoy in the next week, but I'm sure I can make a stop in that most luxurious of cities. Do you have time to show me the sites? Call me. You have all of my contact information and I'd love to meet up with you. Bring your family, I think they would love to see the face of one of your happiest customers.
Oh, I'm going to be mailing you a lead pipe, a pair of rubber gloves, and a giant anchor because I cannot get those through airline security these days. These are standard travel luxuries for any Americans. Hey, I hear that you can take a wonderful boat tour of the Mumbai area. I hear that night time is best. I look forward to seeing you and don't forget to bring the goods I mailed you.
Your pal and favorite customer,
Mr. Suspect
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Entertainment News!
I would like to appologize to my readers, I've been busy advising Al Gore on how to release Euna Lee and Laura Ling from a North Korean hard labor camp. Negotiations were going well until Kim Jong-Il demanded that Al Gore publicly acknowledge that it was in fact Kim who created the Internet and discovered global warming. That was too much for Mr. Gore who had to return to his suite in Tokyo.
So, let's talk some entertainment.
The Hangover is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen!It is a depraved tail of a bachelor party gone bad that would have made Hunter S. Thompson jealous! Two thumbs up plus my big toe! Warning: If you have no sense of humor or find insanity too vulgar to watch--don't go!
Rumors have it that Jessica Simpson might be pregnant. If that is true that will be the first time since early last fall that Tony Romo was able to sneak one into the endzone.
Adam Lambert came out of the Closet: No Shit Adam! Now go back in it, turn off the lights, shut the door and leave us alone.
Miss USA Carrie Prejean received a "You're Fired" from the Don today. Does anybody really care anymore about Miss USA? I advised the Don to take it topless and put it on Pay-Per-View. He is taking my suggestion under advisement. I doubt I will receive my demand of 50% of all profits.
Sarah Palin---Just move along, your five minutes of fame are up. Stay home and keep an eye on Russia for us from your porch.
Susan Boyle: Simon promises to help her find her voice. Did you check under the bed by her dentures?
Robert Pattison--The actor who plays "Edward" in the film adaptation of the tweener sensation Twilight, claims that he can no longer take fame and the teenage girls throwing their bodies at him. Uh, Robbie, I suggest working as a janitor for a few months before you decide that your life is so bad.
Miley Cyrus broke up with her 20 year old boyfriend. In most states the boyfriend would receive a free vacation at the expense of the State and have to avoid schools, playgrounds, churches, Chucky Cheese, malls, etc., pursuant to the restrictions set forth in Megan's Law for persons convicted of crimes such as Rape in the Second Degree otherwise known as statutory rape. Hey Billy, I know you aren't the sharpest butter knife on the table, but do you think you might want your daughter to date people that are not by legal definition engaged in predatory behavior? I'm sure your hands are full trying to heal Miley's achy breaky heart.
Well sorry for the delay. I'm headed back to North Korea. I've asked that the two journalists be allowed to watch a tale of survival and compliance within a labor camp titled The Great Escape. I suspect that my demands will not be met, but you never know. Happy Thursday All!
So, let's talk some entertainment.
The Hangover is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen!It is a depraved tail of a bachelor party gone bad that would have made Hunter S. Thompson jealous! Two thumbs up plus my big toe! Warning: If you have no sense of humor or find insanity too vulgar to watch--don't go!
Rumors have it that Jessica Simpson might be pregnant. If that is true that will be the first time since early last fall that Tony Romo was able to sneak one into the endzone.
Adam Lambert came out of the Closet: No Shit Adam! Now go back in it, turn off the lights, shut the door and leave us alone.
Miss USA Carrie Prejean received a "You're Fired" from the Don today. Does anybody really care anymore about Miss USA? I advised the Don to take it topless and put it on Pay-Per-View. He is taking my suggestion under advisement. I doubt I will receive my demand of 50% of all profits.
Sarah Palin---Just move along, your five minutes of fame are up. Stay home and keep an eye on Russia for us from your porch.
Susan Boyle: Simon promises to help her find her voice. Did you check under the bed by her dentures?
Robert Pattison--The actor who plays "Edward" in the film adaptation of the tweener sensation Twilight, claims that he can no longer take fame and the teenage girls throwing their bodies at him. Uh, Robbie, I suggest working as a janitor for a few months before you decide that your life is so bad.
Miley Cyrus broke up with her 20 year old boyfriend. In most states the boyfriend would receive a free vacation at the expense of the State and have to avoid schools, playgrounds, churches, Chucky Cheese, malls, etc., pursuant to the restrictions set forth in Megan's Law for persons convicted of crimes such as Rape in the Second Degree otherwise known as statutory rape. Hey Billy, I know you aren't the sharpest butter knife on the table, but do you think you might want your daughter to date people that are not by legal definition engaged in predatory behavior? I'm sure your hands are full trying to heal Miley's achy breaky heart.
Well sorry for the delay. I'm headed back to North Korea. I've asked that the two journalists be allowed to watch a tale of survival and compliance within a labor camp titled The Great Escape. I suspect that my demands will not be met, but you never know. Happy Thursday All!
Friday, June 5, 2009
A Letter Home
Dear Mom and Dad,
I hope this letter reaches you intact. A friend of mine is injured and unfit for duty and he swore to me that he would hide this letter from the censors and bring it to you in person or mail it to you when he could.
I am tired and seasick. I've been buried deep within the bowels of a troop transport for the past few days. The weather is awful and we are not sure if our commanders know what they are doing. All that I know is that the boat smells of smoke, vomit, and other odors for which I cannot describe. I can't wait to crawl over the side and get on the dang Higgins Boat.
I am quite used to this by now. From Africa to Italy, the routine never changes. The only difference is that we are now old men. I know that I am only 22, but I feel like grandpa. Can you believe that we have been at war for almost three years! Tell little Billy to stay in school and do not let him enlist. I do not want him to see what I have seen.
The good news is that we have warm food, clean water, and new equipment. I still have the same M-1 that I've carried since Africa, but I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. We've been issued new load bearing equipment that allows us to haul more food and ammo. They've issued us special waist belts that have some sort of cartridge that will inflate the belt and allow us to walk ashore if we find ourselves in deep water.
I do not need to tell you, because you will already know, but we are headed for France. We are going to land on a beach called Normandy. The Navy and Air Corps are supposed to shell the beach so heavily that no person will survive. We'll see. They've made the same promise at every landing and so far they've all been wrong. Maybe the Airborne jerks will kill all of the Germans and we can go home.
The men I serve with are the best infantrymen in the world. We fight as one person and we only have one goal--we are going to kill all of the Germans so that we may go home. But I have a feeling I will not be coming home. I've been in this mess for too long and I don't believe my luck will hold. I just hope that I do not let my squad mates down.
My officers are young, but experienced. We know our job and we do it well. Sometimes it is scary to think what kind of people we've become. We are killers. We have seen so much death that we now just keep moving and reflect upon it later. Most of the men that I went through basic with are dead. There are only a few of us left. You would laugh if you saw me now--my hair is grey!
Know this, when that landing craft hits the beach, I am going to run and shoot as fast as I can. I will not linger around long enough to wind up in some Kraut's sights. But we hear there are a lot of guns on that beach plus mines and wire.
We are fighting to come home, but we are also fighting to make sure that this war never touches you. I hear that they are starting to relax the rations back home. I hope Dad can finally get the spare parts he's been searching for. I hope all of you are well and I want you to know that you raised me right and I have no regrets. I love all of you and we will see each other again. I know.
If you are reading this then I am dead. Do not cry and do not be angry. If it wasn't me it might be little Billy someday and I can't have that. I'll see you in heaven.
Signed,
An American Son
June 6, 1944
I hope this letter reaches you intact. A friend of mine is injured and unfit for duty and he swore to me that he would hide this letter from the censors and bring it to you in person or mail it to you when he could.
I am tired and seasick. I've been buried deep within the bowels of a troop transport for the past few days. The weather is awful and we are not sure if our commanders know what they are doing. All that I know is that the boat smells of smoke, vomit, and other odors for which I cannot describe. I can't wait to crawl over the side and get on the dang Higgins Boat.
I am quite used to this by now. From Africa to Italy, the routine never changes. The only difference is that we are now old men. I know that I am only 22, but I feel like grandpa. Can you believe that we have been at war for almost three years! Tell little Billy to stay in school and do not let him enlist. I do not want him to see what I have seen.
The good news is that we have warm food, clean water, and new equipment. I still have the same M-1 that I've carried since Africa, but I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. We've been issued new load bearing equipment that allows us to haul more food and ammo. They've issued us special waist belts that have some sort of cartridge that will inflate the belt and allow us to walk ashore if we find ourselves in deep water.
I do not need to tell you, because you will already know, but we are headed for France. We are going to land on a beach called Normandy. The Navy and Air Corps are supposed to shell the beach so heavily that no person will survive. We'll see. They've made the same promise at every landing and so far they've all been wrong. Maybe the Airborne jerks will kill all of the Germans and we can go home.
The men I serve with are the best infantrymen in the world. We fight as one person and we only have one goal--we are going to kill all of the Germans so that we may go home. But I have a feeling I will not be coming home. I've been in this mess for too long and I don't believe my luck will hold. I just hope that I do not let my squad mates down.
My officers are young, but experienced. We know our job and we do it well. Sometimes it is scary to think what kind of people we've become. We are killers. We have seen so much death that we now just keep moving and reflect upon it later. Most of the men that I went through basic with are dead. There are only a few of us left. You would laugh if you saw me now--my hair is grey!
Know this, when that landing craft hits the beach, I am going to run and shoot as fast as I can. I will not linger around long enough to wind up in some Kraut's sights. But we hear there are a lot of guns on that beach plus mines and wire.
We are fighting to come home, but we are also fighting to make sure that this war never touches you. I hear that they are starting to relax the rations back home. I hope Dad can finally get the spare parts he's been searching for. I hope all of you are well and I want you to know that you raised me right and I have no regrets. I love all of you and we will see each other again. I know.
If you are reading this then I am dead. Do not cry and do not be angry. If it wasn't me it might be little Billy someday and I can't have that. I'll see you in heaven.
Signed,
An American Son
June 6, 1944
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
From Cairo to Little Nero!
I Found a nice little spot on top of the Sphinx, where I could set up an umbrella and listen to the President's speech in Cairo today. His speech was adorned with his usual humility, prayers of hope, and insulin resistant optimism. All in all it was a very good speech.
But as I sunned on top of one of humankind's greatest achievements, I wondered--what in the heck does all of this mean? There were no solutions, he didn't say anything that hasn't been said before, he did not make a pledge in support or defiance of our two wars that was not already in the news. Maybe a speech of everything and nothing is what the Middle East needed. Who knows. But I enjoyed my stay.
After packing up my umbrella, I flew my personal jet to Japan where I could keep an eye on my favorite enemy--North Korea.
Even though Kim has turned over power to Jung Un, it seems that he is still pulling the strings. North Korean ships crossed into the South's Territorial waters today to allegedly stop illegal Chinese crab fishing. Oh yeah right! And I suppose that the amphibious assault exercise was one great seashell hunt?
Do they believe we are that stupid? Well, yes they do. Apparently some in the west believe that we can inflict harm on the little dictator by cutting off his supply of liquor, lobster, and sushi. I'm not making this up. They think cutting off Kim and little Kim's supplies will force them to scale back the impending storm. Oh, if that logic were true, then world war II could have been won if only we had cut off Hitlers supply of vegetables and amphetamines.
Today has been a long day. Between the Kumbaya speech in Cairo and the impending naval disaster off of the Korean peninsula, I think that I'll just take a short vacation and head to London to serve as a spiritual coach to the lovely Susan Boyle. I would say more, but the gauntlet was dropped today--any negative talk from Westerners about that region is now considered islamophobia. Now that we have labels, we must take great strides not to talk negative in terms of the land of terror. I'm certain some sort of phobia will fall on our heads with regards to North Korea.
I suspect a pattern here. If you create a negative label for everything, then we cannot talk about it. Then of course it does not exist. Take for instance Swine Flu. The President suggested that we now refer to it as H1N1. God forbid that we offend a pig!
I'm tired, the sun in Cairo was hot, my trips to Japan and North Korea this week have worn me out. Maybe Ms. Boyle will sing me to sleep with Don't Cry for Me Argentina! I'm out.
But as I sunned on top of one of humankind's greatest achievements, I wondered--what in the heck does all of this mean? There were no solutions, he didn't say anything that hasn't been said before, he did not make a pledge in support or defiance of our two wars that was not already in the news. Maybe a speech of everything and nothing is what the Middle East needed. Who knows. But I enjoyed my stay.
After packing up my umbrella, I flew my personal jet to Japan where I could keep an eye on my favorite enemy--North Korea.
Even though Kim has turned over power to Jung Un, it seems that he is still pulling the strings. North Korean ships crossed into the South's Territorial waters today to allegedly stop illegal Chinese crab fishing. Oh yeah right! And I suppose that the amphibious assault exercise was one great seashell hunt?
Do they believe we are that stupid? Well, yes they do. Apparently some in the west believe that we can inflict harm on the little dictator by cutting off his supply of liquor, lobster, and sushi. I'm not making this up. They think cutting off Kim and little Kim's supplies will force them to scale back the impending storm. Oh, if that logic were true, then world war II could have been won if only we had cut off Hitlers supply of vegetables and amphetamines.
Today has been a long day. Between the Kumbaya speech in Cairo and the impending naval disaster off of the Korean peninsula, I think that I'll just take a short vacation and head to London to serve as a spiritual coach to the lovely Susan Boyle. I would say more, but the gauntlet was dropped today--any negative talk from Westerners about that region is now considered islamophobia. Now that we have labels, we must take great strides not to talk negative in terms of the land of terror. I'm certain some sort of phobia will fall on our heads with regards to North Korea.
I suspect a pattern here. If you create a negative label for everything, then we cannot talk about it. Then of course it does not exist. Take for instance Swine Flu. The President suggested that we now refer to it as H1N1. God forbid that we offend a pig!
I'm tired, the sun in Cairo was hot, my trips to Japan and North Korea this week have worn me out. Maybe Ms. Boyle will sing me to sleep with Don't Cry for Me Argentina! I'm out.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Jung Un is a Yungin!
Sorry for the delay between posts, I just returned from interviewing Kim Jong-Un the heir apparent to the starved and beleaguered people of North Korea. I was not allowed to use any recording devices or the use of a pencil or paper for my interview. The following is an account of my visit with the new people's leader.
Kim Jong-un was born January 8, 1984 to Kim Jong-Il's second mistress. He had a normal childhood by dictator standards. He killed his first domesticated animal when he was two with a sickle that he stole from the people's museum. His father rewarded him with his choice of prisoner to execute by firing squad.
By his teen years he had a golf course built on the family estate. He hid land mines all over the course and forced workers to retrieve golf balls. Those that survived were rewarded with a bowl of rice.
On his 21st birthday he celebrated by tossing babies into a pit of fire while dancing to Michael Jackson's Billy Jean.
I asked Jung Un what he planned to do now that his father has retired. He thought long and hard before answering. As it turns out, North Korea bought the sun during the 1960s. He intends to pass a resolution at the United Nations forcing all countries to pay rent for the light and heat he gives them or he will turn it off.
He made wild assertions during our one hour meeting. He claims that the movie Stargate is based upon his life. Jung Un also claims that his father bought Hollywood last October and intends to file piracy suits against all United States citizens that have watched a movie since acquiring the rights. He said that if the United States does not pay him 1 billion dollars, for our willful and deliberate theft of his royalties, he will personally release the secret formulas for Coca Cola and Kentucky Fried Chicken.
I asked him whether he intended to invade the South. He said there was no reason to invade the South because he owned that as well. His father gave him the deed to South Korea when he was unanimously elected by the people to rule the Korean peninsula. Apparently North Korea has no shortage of food; he and his father instituted a weight enforcement program to insure that their country is not polluted with diabetes like the United States. He denied that there are health issues within the worker's paradise.
Before I was hog tied and thrown on a fishing boat for Japan, he told me that he will soon unveil an alternate fuel source for the world and intends on purchasing Michigan once GM files for bankruptcy. That ended our brief encounter.
Before I was carried out, I was forced to watch a documentary called The Manchurian Candidate. I suspect that he is crazy, but I am no longer allowed to say that word out loud or I will cluck like a chicken for some reason. Strange it started soon after I watched that dang documentary! Hmm.
Kim Jong-un was born January 8, 1984 to Kim Jong-Il's second mistress. He had a normal childhood by dictator standards. He killed his first domesticated animal when he was two with a sickle that he stole from the people's museum. His father rewarded him with his choice of prisoner to execute by firing squad.
By his teen years he had a golf course built on the family estate. He hid land mines all over the course and forced workers to retrieve golf balls. Those that survived were rewarded with a bowl of rice.
On his 21st birthday he celebrated by tossing babies into a pit of fire while dancing to Michael Jackson's Billy Jean.
I asked Jung Un what he planned to do now that his father has retired. He thought long and hard before answering. As it turns out, North Korea bought the sun during the 1960s. He intends to pass a resolution at the United Nations forcing all countries to pay rent for the light and heat he gives them or he will turn it off.
He made wild assertions during our one hour meeting. He claims that the movie Stargate is based upon his life. Jung Un also claims that his father bought Hollywood last October and intends to file piracy suits against all United States citizens that have watched a movie since acquiring the rights. He said that if the United States does not pay him 1 billion dollars, for our willful and deliberate theft of his royalties, he will personally release the secret formulas for Coca Cola and Kentucky Fried Chicken.
I asked him whether he intended to invade the South. He said there was no reason to invade the South because he owned that as well. His father gave him the deed to South Korea when he was unanimously elected by the people to rule the Korean peninsula. Apparently North Korea has no shortage of food; he and his father instituted a weight enforcement program to insure that their country is not polluted with diabetes like the United States. He denied that there are health issues within the worker's paradise.
Before I was hog tied and thrown on a fishing boat for Japan, he told me that he will soon unveil an alternate fuel source for the world and intends on purchasing Michigan once GM files for bankruptcy. That ended our brief encounter.
Before I was carried out, I was forced to watch a documentary called The Manchurian Candidate. I suspect that he is crazy, but I am no longer allowed to say that word out loud or I will cluck like a chicken for some reason. Strange it started soon after I watched that dang documentary! Hmm.
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