Inclement Weather and Inclement People

I know.  It's like I'm only barely eking out one damned post a month.  Let's just say I've been keeping busy and worrying a lot about personal problems going on in my life and leave it at that.  But then, what else is new, eh?  Would I like to say things are semi-fine or halfway tolerable?  Yep.  I sure would.  You may think me a pessimist or call me an alarmist but, really, I honestly try to bring harmony in my little part of world only have it it crushed, pulverized and throw back in my face like a messy, sticky wad of pre-chewed Goobers.

This is going to have to be one of those times where I don't reveal what's happening in my personal life right now.  To recall it and write it in any kind of half-attempted detail here would only send me to the Community Mental Health Center.  Let's put it this way: I almost checked myself into such a place, yesterday and people who don't suffer from severe anxiety disorder or depression might have had the same thought cross their minds if they had gone through what I've gone through this week.  It's enough to make you (actually me) wish that The Grand Joke of Life that sometimes plagues the continuously unfortunate would just take a big ol' hammer, whack one in the head and get it over with.  Ha. Ha.  Gosh, I'm quite the kidder.  Let's just say that and move on, shall we?

Speaking of Goobers... Look!  There's Goober!  He's with Andy!  I wonder what tune Andy was playing?  It was probably something lighthearted and something that made sense.  Kind of like the opposite behavior of the people we have running around the world today.  Btw, Andy Griffith died not too long ago.  Don't ask me about Goober, though.  I don't know if he's down in the dirt and food for maggots or what. The last I heard, he joined a circus that was demon- owned that had crazed clown midgets and hell hounds running the show.   Hey, that reminds me of a story I wrote about a month ago!  How about that?  

But anyway...

I will say that the only reason I'm able to write this post is because the temperature has gone down to a nearly tolerable level in this part of the apartment and I rigged a gate, an old window screen, to be exact, to keep the new kitten from jumping around and eating my electrical wiring.  Plus, some of the problems that were taking hold of my sanity have quelled enough to a point where I can put a sentence together with my keyboard without foaming at the mouth and pissing my pants.

Damn.  People are getting are crazier by the day.  Every once in awhile, I'll create some crazy assed story  or comment on some crazy assed piece of news that's going on in the world but I tell you what, folks.  The true life stories that are going on these days put my own fictional or incredibly real tales to shame, or at the very least, seem lame by comparison.

The whack job that went into the Colorado Theater and shot 71 people, wearing a costume or something, while everyone was attempting to watch the new Batman flick is just one of many signs this country is plain nutty.  I would say he's inclement.  You never hear that word, describing insane or unfeeling people much, but I'd say it's time for a new word to describe cruel or apathetic people.  People use this word to describe the weather these days but I would cheerfully give up this word to be associated with this fucker.

Insanity and cruelty must be bliss- for this guy.  His creepy-as-fuck smile says a lot.    

Speaking of inclement weather... what's going on here?  Non-stop floods and rain in the United Kingdom and over here, in the U.S., we have severe droughts and non-stop 100 degree temperatures nearly every day.  In other parts of the world, they're having "opposite weather" of what they're supposed to be having this time of year, as well.  And it's all being dealt out in heavy doses, causing anguish upon almost everyone that I've interacted with or read about. It's like the weather is mimicking the world's fucked up economy, violent state and it's loony people.  Or it's the other way around.

And let's not forget the cannibal dude who ate the homeless man's face, either, awhile back.  This guy didn't even stop eating this poor man's face as he was being shot and told not to eat the victim's face.

You would think that maybe the guy on the right was...uh....  kinda nutty.  Nope, it's the guy on the left that eats human flesh.  Whatever you do, don't hunt for the picture on the net, provided you haven't seen it, already, of the homeless guy's "face" after the cannibal dude gobbled most of it up like a kid at the fair with a stick full of cotton candy.   Or a handful of Goobers.  That picture of the homeless guy, after the cannibals handiwork, had me close to puking.  And that, my friends, is pretty bad if you can make me sick.

Personally, I don't understand it all.  The fucked up economy, the crazy people, the inclement weather, thinly veiled wars that are actually about greed and power, the messed up priorities of politicians and inclement DICKtators around the world and everything else I'm leaving out- but I'm sure you've seen on the Internet, newspapers or TV- it's really oddly coincidental that it's happening in such a short span of time.

George Carlin was a very wise, witty and humorous comedian and author.  R.I.P.  He's one of my heroes, actually, along with Kurt Vonnegut.  They really understood human nature.  They weren't shy about speaking their minds and being honest and direct.  Those are characteristics I mentally applaud about people who unabashedly exhibit them.  I hold both of the mentioned authors, who were realists and humorists, in very high regard.  I'm rather proud to say I own all of George's albums and books and I can say that I own most of the masterpieces that Kurt Vonnegut penned during his life.

My point is, is that George said, more than once, "When you're born you get a ticket to the freak show.  When you're born in America, you get a front row seat."  Wow.  The more time passes during my own era, the more truer and relevant that becomes, George.  And it seems the rest of the world is trying to shake off the fleas (the humans) more so than usual with rampant floods, death-bearing heat, earthquakes and so on.



I truly feel for the victims of those who have been shot and killed in senseless shootings, wars and so on.  I also feel for those living in poverty, never knowing a life where food is plentiful and healthcare is there to benefit them.

I guess when there are people that still feel and aren't apathetic to those around them, there is still hope.  There are days when I try to hold tight to that idea.  Some days, it's harder to do that than others.  But let's all try!  And let's all try to be better human beings and feel something humane for our own species.  At this rate, I have to admit, it feels as though we're quickly spiraling down the drain of history. 

Why Santa May Be a Little Late This Year

Gotta make this a quickie video post, guys.  Been doing the Christmas type visiting and shopping all day/all night and I'm too pooped to pop an elaborate post outta my festive, holly jolly holiday ol' butt.  In any case, watch this video and feel the warmth of Christmas magic.  Let the kids watch for extra fun.  I'm not responsible for any future therapy, however.

I Found A Pubic Hair In My Shrimp

A couple weeks ago, my wifey and I went to our favorite Chinese restaurant/buffet and pigged out. We love almost all the food on their big buffet and look forward to hitting it up every so often. The food there is very tasty and they have a wide variety of seafood on the bar- always a plus with me, since I can never get enough crab legs and shrimp.

But, as things always seem to go, when you like something for a long time, something will happen that will eventually put a damper on it. In the case of eating at one of your favorite restaurants, that something could be bad service, cold food or being placed next to a table full of screeching monkey children that won't stop screaming like banshees.

That last one I mentioned is practically a deal breaker for me since I have a very low threshold for loud, needless noise and suffer from anxiety. The parents who allow this type of unacceptable behavior to go on and on without taking Junior or Juniorette out of the place so the patrons can have a nice, quiet meal that they're paying for, are the ones who need to be taken out to the woodshed and given a couple good whacks with a sledgehammer and a poke with an electric cattle prod, for good measure. The parents could, at least, put a sound-proof muzzle on that adorable, shrieking child-thing of theirs. I won't call it child abuse or call the authorities on you if you do it. If fact, I'll slip you a few bucks to go to the nearest pet store so you can pick one up. Who says I'm not a giver?

Bad service, if it is kept to a minimum, is something I can handle if it only happened once or twice during the dozens of times I've gone to a certain eatery. Cold food- the same way.

But this time something different happened. This time, I went to the buffet bar and brought back a plate of breaded shrimp and boy, did they look good- until I happened to notice a long black pube sticking out of the tail end of one of the shrimp. The slightly kinked hair was about 2 or 3 inches in length and it was in there, stuck very securely. I tried pulling it out, using a napkin and the damn thing wouldn't come out. Now, I know it wasn't mine. I have brown hair. And I know it wasn't another customer's. Who would, after all, take the time and trouble of plucking a single hair off their head and pushing it deep in between the shell end of the shrimp and the meat of it and then putting back into the tray with the rest of the shrimp?

Especially, when they would be easily caught by every other patron, scrambling around, dishing up food on their plates?

No, that mission would be too tough to accomplish.

Look closely at the pictures of the shrimp and questionable hair, click to zoom in and speculate amongst yourselves. This is a real detective's case here, I tell you. One for the books. I ended up wrapping the shrimp up in a napkin, took it home with me and photographed the evidence. I had to throw it away, not long afterwards, because the cat was trying to get at it to eat it and I didn't want him to gag and choke to death on the pubic hair. How would I explain that to the vet?

After all, I didn't want the vet to think I was forcing my schlong down into my cat's mouth and a pube came off and somehow lodged itself in his throat. You have to worry about things like that, you know.

I say the hair/culprit came from the kitchen where the Chinese cooks were cooking the food. I don't know for sure it was stuck firmly in the shrimp, intentionally and I'm not sure if it was a pubic hair, either. When I showed it to my wife, she gasped and then asked, "What is that?"

I said, "I think it's a pubic hair."

She replied, "Well that's gross, no matter which part of someone's body it came from."

I agreed.

Then we both laughed. Wifey asked if I was going to show it to the manager and I replied that I thought it wasn't worth it. The manager would probably think I put it there and the whole thing was too embarrassing to bring up. I'm sure it was an accident. I wasn't looking for a free meal on behalf of the manager or any other compensation that the manager might have given us. Being that this was the first time something like this had ever happened there, I let the matter drop.

Besides, it's not like I actually put the shrimp in my mouth. If I had, and discovered it rubbing against my tongue, I would have been incredibly pissed and went on a mad killing spree back in the kitchen. I would have bounded through the kitchen doors, unannounced. Throats would have been slit with sharp, handy knives. Screams would be heard throughout the dining area. And everybody would be sad. Except me. I would likely just be exhausted from all that hard work and need to drink some of that delicious green tea they have there to quench my thirst.

Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps, in a stretch of the imagination, a cook was mad at all of us American heifers, waddling our fat asses in the place and scarfing down rice rolls, dumplings, crab legs, Orange chicken and pubic hair shrimp.

Who knows? It gave me a topic to post about, anyway. That's the important thing.

End of The World Delight

Hey gang, let your old pal, Uncle Kelly, tell ya the tale of a lil' planet of long ago. It was called, oddly enough, Idiotica, and it was outrageously overpopulated with a bunch of wacky two legged creatures. They were called DumbAsses.

Now they say the DumbAsses on planet Idiotica started out as crazy turd-throwin' monkeys. But I don't know about that. I have my own theory that seems a bit more sensible. I think a bunch of messed up, drug lovin' aliens got bored one week and dropped by perfect Idiotica for a bit of experimental hooha. Since the aliens didn't poke each other in the porkholes anymore and they were gettin' tired of lookin' at all of the mountains, oceans and trees- I think they decided to break up the monotony of living on Idiotica with an act that would change everything on the planet. Yes sir, the aliens decided to make a new species of being with their advanced technology. Thus, the DumbAsses were emanated. The aliens, seeing what they created, were so embarrassed, they took off like a flea and didn't come back for a real long time.

So after the aliens left the DumbAsses to make decisions for themselves, the Early DumbAsses right away began playing "Take Mr. Stinky and Push Him Into The Taco of Love." When they weren't doing that, they would hunt down vermin, eat til their bellies bloat and hit each other with sticks.

Oddly enough, a lot of the inhabitants of Idiotica delighted in their worship of inanimate objects. The theory being- If ya sing your praises to a rock, the rock will give your people a head of lettuce and other stuff. Here's a sample of a couple of their prayers:

Oh statue of a god I just made up

Please tell me what I should do.

Should I take my first born

And drown him in the river

Or allow him to grow up to be a fine DumbAss like me?

Another one...

Oh big ol' shiny ball in the sky

You are so great

And look so good up there

Could you make it so we have enough beans for the winter

I love you

Later, the folks of Idiotica moved on to praying to deities they couldn't see. A lot of times, they would fight over their deities and beliefs and cause plentiful bloodshed for anyone who didn't believe what they believed. They even had festive events called Inquisitions where they would pick a disbeliever out from the crowd and slowly torture them to an agonizing death. Ha ho! They sure knew how to have a jolly ol' time!

It's been on record in the history books that one of the knights, during a holy war, had this to say, as he plunged his sword into the chest of an unarmed DumbAss, "Come-come, my good man. Cannot you see the practicality of believing in the glory of my god?" The unarmed DumbAss had this to say, "Ahhhh!" Then he died.

During the Industrial Age, The DumbAsses made something that would change their world for years to come. It was called pollution and they used it to slowly poison themselves to death. Hurray!

Another wacky thing the DumbAsses liked ta do was cut down trees. They weren't happy, it seemed, until they cut down every last one. When all the rain forests were wiped out, they noticed (a bit too late) that good clean air and oxygen was a bit scarce.

A lot of crazy things they did to pollute and ravage the planet also changed the weather. It was called global warming. Whew! It's gettin' hot in here. Can you kids say s-l-o-w-d-e-a-t-h?

The main objective of living on Idiotica, of course, was to get more moola (money). And enough was never enough for the typical DumbAss. And the more ya had, the more other DumbAsses seemed to respect ya. Which is funny and truly pathetic when ya think about it. Ha ho! Those crazy DumbAsses loved and worshiped those lil' green pieces of paper more than any other god on Idiotica. In fact, the whole ecosystem of Idiotica was forsaken for the Almighty Dollar. Golly!

Every so often, the DumbAsses of Idiotica would elect a new president, king or puppet. One country of DumbAsses, in particular, prided itself on being free. Free ta do what? The only freedom these DumbAsses really had was the right to vote for a new ruler every so often. They didn't get to make the laws of their land. They didn't get ta decide how much money would be ripped out of their paychecks to support their government. And many times, the DumbAsses' government would control the DumbAsses by telling them lies and forcing them to watch ancient reruns of Gilligan's Island or worse yet, The Jerry Springer Show. Excuse me now- while I puke up a Toyota.

And good gollykins but those DumbAsses enjoyed a good war. It would always be about land, religion, fossil fuels or the color of skin. These DumbAsses would kill each other like there was no tomorrow. Crazy fun for one and all! They wouldn't be satisfied until they had annihilated almost everybody in a big ol' murderous frenzy.

Now a couple DumbAsses would try to rally people for the cause of peace.

Peace. Peace. Peace. That's all they would talk about. They, of course, were killed instantly. Where did they think they were? On another planet or something?

The world wars that would be engaged in later were over food, water and the basic necessities of life. Strangely enough, instead of pulling together so that their species had a chance of surviving, they continued to kill and kill and kill one another. Imagine that!

Finally, the aliens came back to check up on the DumbAsses, ready to introduce themselves proper and such. But when they arrived, they saw that the folks on Idiotica had enough nuclear warheads and other high powered weaponry to entirely destroy their planet 50 X 3 plus 2 and decided the DumbAsses were intent on killing themselves and weren't worth their time and trouble.

With the advent of the predicted Final World War, the seas and oceans boiled while the lands of Idiotica burned with the fires of nuclear devastation. Alas, there was to be no surviving for any DumbAss due to complete widespread fallout and radiation. And did I mention fire? Woohoo!

What started out as a perfectly beautiful, life sustaining planet was eventually turned into a perfectly destroyed ashen rock of lifelessness. The End.

Gosh, you sure didn't see that coming. Did you? Ha ha! Well, this is Uncle Kelly, bidding you a joyous farewell and sweet happy dreams. Aloha, adios and goodbye!

Illogical Impatience And Other Societal Mental Illnesses

Where's my goddamn five layered, cheesy, beany, greasy, ass imploding 1o pound burrito?! Where's my anti-fart and acid reflux pills to go along with it?

On the Internet, I found there was research done on one of society's main flaws, impatience. The basic conclusion to this widespread American condition/tradition was that we are addicted to instant gratification. Which, just by casual observation, anyone can see.

The researchers cited fast food joints to be an excellent example of this and how they are one of the main culprits in perpetuating this "gotta have it now" attitude. The study suggests the fast food industry has greatly influenced our culture in this negative way. This makes sense to me. And I won't lie to ya. I'm impatient as hell, too.

If I'm kept waiting at a light at an intersection for too long, say, uh, one freakin' minute, I either pound on the steering wheel (which is kinda pretzel shaped now) or go the other direction, so to speak, and pop off to SleepyBye Land for a quick siesta in the driver's seat. About that time, some asshole, inevitably, will blow his horn behind me, causing me to wake, piss myself and have a stroke, simultaneously.

Of course, this reminds me of Road Rage. For those of you not living in industrialized countries, Road Rage is a little game that commuters, those driving to work and from, will play during the busiest times on the interstates and highways. The rules to Road Rage are fairly easy. Being angry is a prerequisite in order to play properly.

Road Rage Rules:

Rule #1 -Find a completely congested highway or interstate that is cluster-fucked with an endless sea of cars. Be sure you're in the thick of this man-made fucking mess. If it's a hot day, roll down the windows, if you wish, for the added benefit of sucking in the exhaust fumes of the cars around you. This may help to further enrage you. Caution: The sucking in of too many of these fumes may prevent you from moving on to Rule #2.

Rule #2 -Honking your horn, gritting your teeth, making obscene gestures and remarks, spitting, frothing at the mouth, bumping the car in front of you, using all manner of weaponry (guns, bazookas and/or hand grenades) are all fair strategies to be used, and really, are symptoms of an insane society, in regards to Road Rage. Go ahead! Make every one's day!

Rule #3 -Whoever lives is the winner and gets to go home, drink a beer and watch "Family Guy". If any body parts are missing (eye, finger, leg, anus, etc...) from the game played, previously, you may return to the road and go to the hospital. You have my permission.

Yesterday, I saw on the news that senators and other politicians in both Republican and Democratic parties are receiving death threats, in verbal and written forms, for voting for or against the Health Care Reform Bill -which, by the way, I'm happy to say, has finally passed after more than a year of bickering and lies. People are panicky and impatient for positive results of this progress or any upcoming progress, I believe, because of our national unemployment problems, recession and wondering how they're going to pay next month's bills and put food on the table. It doesn't help when one side of the political coin fuels the incendiary nature of society by making inflammatory remarks or remarks that incite fear and confusion.

Unfortunately for us, both parties excel in this destructive venture.

That, my friends, makes me hot under the collar. For real.

Of course, there are those times when impatience is understandable. Such as:

-While waiting too long at the doctor's office (two or more hours) for a routine appointment or for a missing limb. You may want to alert someone about any missing limbs. Preferably, by loud shouting and waving your bloody stump around in a circular fashion.

-While waiting for a service tech to get on the phone and then, when you finally do get a human on the line, they speak in a fucked up, heavily foreign-accented form of your language, causing you to seethe with anger and frustration until, ultimately, you throw your phone towards the cat, who proceeds to flee and crash into your significant other's favorite lamp or urn full of dead relative's ashes or gold plated hookah with accompanying wise caterpillar, thus causing greater turmoil in the end and possible bloodshed for every living thing in the house. Woo hoo. Impatience is understandable. Telling the service tech that you need to speak to someone you can understand is understandable. Maiming the cat and destroying the house is unacceptable.

You can think of more examples, I'm sure.

The point is, and it has taken me awhile to get to it because I'm kinda scatter-brained (it isn't noticeable, is it?), that being patient is more than just an important virtue to have and practice. Being patient can keep you and everyone else healthy. Anyone of us can promote harmony instead of chaos, which an individual or group's impatience is usually good at causing. The times are few when it's a good idea to to put your anger and impatience into action.

I Go Away For A Month And The Whole World Goes To Hell

But that's what happens when I'm gone and I will not accept it lightly. No sir, I'm going to have to form my "Army Of Darkness" and root out the cold and the greedy bastards that got us in this bottomless shit hole. When are we going to stop the robbing of the American poor and middle class and make those greedy bastards pay, in various ways, like torture, for instance?

Hey, just an idea.





Ooopsie. I'm letting my psychotic side show.







And what about this Octo-Mom shit? All of this attention paid to a dumb bitch who gets off on dumpin' lil' rug rats out of her vaginal cavity. Can't we pour some cement in that overused hole between her legs? Good gravy!






Anyway, as you may have noticed, I've been gone for close to a month from my emails, my blog and everyone else's blogs. And so on. For that, I apologize.




I was going to bore you as to why I've been away. But you might get violent.


Instead, I shall tell you of a wonderful secret. Tomorrow, we are taking our cat, Mufasa, to the vet. Long-haired and full of bite, Mufasa will cheerfully take a chunk out of your hand if you gently pet her. For free, even. Mufasa's fur is heavily matted and she is so fat she can't lick her back, asshole or junk anymore. I think female cats can have junk, can't they? Hell, I don't know.



We put her on a kitty treadmill once, wearing a jogging suit. That didn't work. We feed her diet food. That doesn't work either. And I've tried chasing her, frantically, around the house while I've yelled, "Whoop! Whoop! Heeba Bah Jeeba!"



Anyhoo, we are getting her put out, to avoid injury to all involved and letting the vet's assistants have the joy of shaving her. Heh heh.





I'll take a picture of her when they're done with her and she's recouped for awhile. I'll post the picture on my next post.






And what about the nun and the alter boy? Will they ever find happiness in their one bedroom apartment? Sometimes you have to wonder.