Strange Ads and Products of Yesteryear

Fascinated with old advertisements and inventions of the last hundred years, I've been collecting these images and some of the stories behind them.  Prepared to be educated and thrilled with this post of posts.  Enjoy!

Sometime in the 1950's or 1960's (I can't be bothered with finding details or facts, of course), The Del Monte company came to a curious conclusion after testing a dozen women for three years in a locked room and with nearly no outside visitations except for the company's researchers.  While using cattle prods, scientists encouraged the women that stood along a moving conveyor belt of ketchup bottles, to open the containers of tomato-y goodness with their hands and fingers.

Surprised that women had the same incredible capability of a man to open a ketchup bottle time after time, researchers concluded after the intensive study, that women could open stuff.  The scientific community would never be the same again.

While opening a ketchup bottle, the typical woman will have an orgasm.

And they eat it until they orgasm.  A healthy and happy lifestyle- guaranteed.

Back in the 1920's, a team of doctors came up with an exciting new way to keep people fit and trim after the eating of their daily regiment of one large bucket of lard per person, followed by the entire cleanly cleaved head of a hog.  The idea was so simple that one doctor, in particular, whose name was Dr. Hugh Jass, was so ashamed that he didn't think of the miracle cure for obesity before, he decided to punish himself by hammering his penis to a tree.  This action by the good doctor quickly became a fad during the day and soon, every man was hammering their genitals to trees.  Of course, while engaging in this activity, it was quite common for men of that era to have an orgasm.  This is where we get the word sapling.  Remember that!

But getting back to the idea, this miraculous miracle cure, this amazing medical conception... Dr. Hugh Jass and his colleagues found that tape worms were the logical answer for those who were fat as hippos, dining on the bowels of baby dinosaurs and dragons.

Is that a cluster of crab louse I see on Mike's shoulder?  Oh no!  He may not be suitable for future dating.

Below you will see an advertisement for health rejuvenating cigarettes.  Cigarettes are packed with so many vitamins and required benefits for healthy lungs, that they will often be fought over in hospitals, fundraisers and convents.  As a bonus, this particular brand of cigarettes would give the customer a black eye as soon as they opened up a pack.  The company would generously ensure each pack came with a contraption that would propel or spring a jagged piece of lead directly at the consumer's eye for his or her pure pleasure and enjoyment.

My best bit as a ventriloquist is the part where I can smoke a cigarette and rape this freakish looking dummy in his tight wooden ass until he screams.  It really gets the crowd laughing every time.  I swear.  What's in it for me?  The satisfaction of providing quality entertainment for my audience and having a powerful, ball-draining orgasm.  Yes sir!  When I smoke, while fucking my dummy, I make sure I always finish with a bang and an emptied ballsack.

Lucky consumers were introduced to a a breakthrough medicinal tonic back in the days of spaceships and high tech laser surgery.  Of course, I'm talking about Grove's Tasteless Chill Tonic.  Not only could it induce your body's natural nutrients, metabolism and secret turd maker to make oneself gain the mass of a wild boar, but it was absolutely tasteless and no one could resist buying large quantities of the tonic and slurping it down by the pint.

There were rumors, during it's heyday, that Grove's Tasteless Chill Tonic might have mild side effects that would cause you to die immediately after drinking it.  Outraged by the company's false advertising of their product, a few protesters of that time claimed the Groves company of fraud, citing that their product would not cause their heads to blow up to ridiculously huge proportions and transform the rest of their bodies into that of a grotesque pig.

Angered, those protesters stripped off their clothing and set themselves ablaze with the fires of glory and strong objection until they were as just as crisp as bacon on a sunny Sunday morning.

This handsome young lad is wondering if someday a woman might be capable of opening a ketchup bottle.

Finally, the same kind and gentle folks who created vitamin packed wallpaper paste came up with this innovative contraption for the on-the-go rectal enthusiast.  It was just the device the world had been waiting for: The Tobacco Smoke Enema.

And speaking of things for the thoughtful consumer's anus, does anyone remember this invention that saved millions of lives?  Why, of course, I'm talking about The Rectorotor.  Imagine the wonderful sensation the health-minded consumer would get with this sharp, spikey thing driven deep inside their brown eye, only to pierce the colon and wrap the colon around the harsh metal triangular pointed head like overcooked spaghetti doused with tomato-y goodness!

Some consumers of the day gushed, "I get a soothing warm sensation when it goes completely though my internal organs!"

Safe enough for anyone between the ages of 15 to 95.

I'm gonna grind and churn my way into your heart and through your spinal column for deep relaxing relief.

And who can forget those children of yesteryear with over-sized, slightly deformed heads that got rid of pesky cockroaches and bedbugs by simply hitting a ball with a baseball bat.  Every time one of those little freakish fuckers hit the ball with a bat, a hundred cockroaches and bedbugs would perish in some part of the world.

There was a scientific explanation for this but I can't remember what it was.  Wait! Give me a minute and I'll extract it from my brilliant mind.  Ah yes... Women can open ketchup bottles.  So there you have it, my friends!

I'm gonna let this goddamn ball hit me right square in the fuckin' face because it makes me giggle until I piss myself.

Remember when squirrel lamps, made of actual squirrels, were all the rage back in the 40's and 50's?  Remember the fun you had trapping these lovable scoundrels from the rodent family in barb-wired covered cages?  You would first place a homeless person's dismembered hand in the cage for bait and before you could say, "I'm gonna nail my blood-engorged penis to a sapling next Tuesday," the squirrel would hurriedly scamper, cheerfully, into the cage and begin enjoying his meal of fresh, warm human meat.  Afterwards, the thoughtful consumer would thrust his sharpened sword into the cuddly squirrel's head, killing it and climaxing, simultaneously.

Indeed, those were the days!

Along with your instructions on how to properly end the life of the beloved squirrel, you would also receive bonus instructions, giving you step by step guidelines on how to lure hamsters to your asshole.

  

There's a certain satisfaction in going back in time and looking at all the wonderful advertisements and products we humans have produced.  It can truly give one a sense of wonder and appreciation of our specie's ingenuity.  Let us bow our heads now, in false prayer, giving thanks and asking Our Holy Sapling for guidance so that we may continue to find new ways to better our lives with ads and inventions such as the ones pictured and described above.  Amen.

Tweetering With One's Twitter

In the past I thought the Twitter and Facebook social networking websites were kind of an odd joke. A lot of folks go on these sites and tell other folks about every trivial little thing they're doing at the moment. Example: I'm scratching my head and thinking about a donut- or something equally as fascinating. Some people, like me, go on Twitter and Facebook to basically joke around with blog pals and every once in awhile, say something of significance. That last part, about the significance, is mighty rare, by the way. The likelihood of you seeing the U.S. budget deficit decrease in the near future may be a more common occurrence.

Then you have those who use one and/or the other as a way to promote their website, in varying degrees. Of course, there are the family and friends who go on either one of them and have real discussions with each other- at least, as real as a discussion you can have by reading and sending meager 140 character text-based messages (for Titters, that is). With "Fartbook", you have a little more space to write your oh-so-important messages and status updates. But, really, who gives a good shit, right? lol.

And what's the deal with people texting these messages on either one, saying they're not home and they're at this place or the other? I see that sometimes. Isn't that like inviting somebody to break in and rob your place while you're gone? Just a thought.

As you can see, I still think of both websites as kind of a joke. Personally, I use both of them for a little joking between friends and a little blog promoting (very little). It's hard for me to take Fartbook or Titters too seriously.

For your confusion and mediocre entertainment, I thought I would share The Best? of my Tweets on Twitter.

Here they are...

Finally broke down and bought a new electric shaver. Used the nose hair trimmer on my hairy nostrils.Don't worry. It all came out OK.

Except for that booger that got stuck in it

I'm hiring people to test this booby trap that shoots darts at somebody's head. The pay is excellent. I'm offering a Granny apple.

God, I hate frickin' mornings. I don't know how y'all do it.

yay...you love me long time. Boing!

Was in the shitter stall at a restaurant the other day.Thought of something funny.Started laughing my ass off. I wonder what people thought

You can't take me anywhere. I'm always making a scene.

Earlier, I saw two mothers racing their baby-loaded strollers against each other.I thought it was stupid so I threw a hand grenade their way

I found out three days ago that I can split a wooden chair with one blast of my ass. That's a talent you don't find every day.

I need to clean my keyboard. There's stuff on it I don't recognize.

Annoying people won't stop calling me today. Shut up, annoying people. Go away, please. I don't want your "crazy" right now.

I just got a haircut. Don't ya just hate it when the tiny bits of hair make ya itch around your neck?

Hurry up, coffee. Brew, muthasucka! Brew! I needs ta wake up.

Oh, sweet lawd... the coffee iz ready. Oh life-giving coffee, I wanna make piping hot love to thee. I wanna feel the burn, baby. sssss

I think I'm gonna lay down for a nice nap and dream of naked clown orgies.

Who took my sausage? Where are my notes? Is someone peeking at me from around the corner? Ah! Aliens!

Diddly doo diddly dee- I'm off to climb a tree

The coffee is making me piss a lot this morning. Maybe I should drink less. Nahhhh.

The story has a bit of everything. Wisdom, surrealism and a vagina mouse.

turds... I just thought it hasn't been said enough today

To all who have read my exciting entries thus far, have a good night or morning or whatever it is to you.

My ass cheeks are on fire from sitting too long.. Gotta get up and cornhole some furniture. That will put a smile on my face. Mmmm.

The most popular Google keyword to finding my site is animal genitals- just because I did one post on that subject.

I hear some idiot digging in the trash bin below me in the parking lot. I think he's digging for cans. He does this about every night

This is like talking to yourself but instead- typing on a keyboard. Does this make one crazy?

MERRY GODDAMN CHRISTMAS TO ONE AND ALL. HO HO HO AND A BOTTLE OF VALIUM...or whatever it takes to get ya through holiday hell.

In 3 more hours, a tribe of rabid family members will breach my hectic household and wreak chaos, kids, inane chatter and property damage

You can find more Christmas spirit in a frozen turd than you can find in me this year. What a surprise, eh?

Oh for the love of sanity, people, keep your friggin' gifts and just give me a tiny taste of peace and tranquility

Aaaah, look at all the hair on the palms of my hands! I shall repent hastily. wank wank wank

i KNOW ALL 'BOUT THOSE FAMILY SHIT STORMS. gOING THROUGH SOME HEAVY BATTLES IN THE WAR ZONE NOW. OPPS, MY CAPS ARE ON

oooh I just bet you do. I'm wearing my special underwear with dark brown skid marks. Are you lovin' it?

Thanks for that information.Now I know you're not home and I can magically transport to your place and spooge on your pillows

Thinking about going for my daily walk in the frozen tundra. Please, no one should attempt to rob the place while I'm away.

I have an attack cat that will rub up against your leg and meow if an intruder should come in

16 degrees F. here right now.The weatherman said if you go outside tonight,naked,you'll get frostbite on your wiener.

My belly is too full for me to sleep. I wish I could take a big plop. Then I would feel good as gold again. Damn these Thanksgiving dinners

gobble gobble... then squish, squirt, plop and splash. Thought the visual might help.

Humunna- Humanna- Humanna... Don't know what it means... but I've heard it before. Goodbye, sanity. Hello, tranquility.

BP CEO Tony Hayward wants his life back. And why does he always have that stupid grin on his face? He seems like an egotistical idiot.

I say we drop Tony in a lake of oil, set it afire and watch the fun.

will there be boobies?

Lick My Salty Meat Sack Today For A Better Brighter Future Tomorrow

Life is a carnival of insanity. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.If they try to, hit 'em with a taser gun or something.

I miss you,you bastard.Hey Qelgoth,I'm back and I'm twice the evil I was before.I make cat fisting look easy now.

Help. Help. I've fallen and I can't stop twittering and saying profound stuff

Remember the good ol' days when Bush and Cheney blew goats and snorted coke off the backs of trannies with Down Syndrome? What fun they had!

Rain, Motherf***ker, Rain! It's pouring down like crazy here. AHA HAHA HAH AHHAH AHAH HAHHAH AHAHHAHH N HAHAHHAJDDIT

The older I get, the more I tire from this crazy human species. This world needs an enema

People who dress their pets in outfits should be taken out to the woodshed for a whippin'

I'm playing cornhole with my goat.

Just got back from my walk around the park. The fountains were spurting green water and the snow is finally melting.

Were you hit by lightning? In the head? Let me help you. There are those committed to helping the deranged. I know.

automagically should be a real word

If lovin' is bad I don't wanna be good

If you hit your thumb really hard with a blunt instrument, your apology will be accepted. :)

My farts smell like fresh made bread or something that smells like it poofed out from the rectum of the Pillsbury Dough Boy

Lordy Lordy, puddin n' pie, kiss da girls and made them fly.

Currently, I'm singing a song I just made up. It's called "I Hate People". If you know the words, you are invited to sing along with me

Neil Young is almost the only remaining cool guy that's still talented and has been around for ages.

Just made a big ol' pot of chili. Salsa is my secret weapon, when added to the pot. Think about it. Salsa has everything you want in chili

It's time for revolution, everyone! Be it yourself or the rest of humanity!

That's it, folks! Hell, if these fascinating entries don't make you wanna FOLLOW ME on Titters, then gosh, I don't know what will. (rolls eyes)

Nonconformists

"Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist."- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"When people are free to do as they please, they usually imitate others."- Anonymous

In the dictionary, I found two main definitions for the word, "nonconformist."

1. One who does not conform to, or refuses to be bound by, accepted beliefs, customs, or practices.

2. A person who does not conform to generally accepted patterns of behaviour or thought.

I can go along with those interpretations of that word. There is also an older meaning to nonconformist. That is: A Protestant in England who is not a member of the Church of England.

Nowadays, when you hear the title of nonconformist, you usually think of the first two definitions. At least in the U.S. you do.

I found this interpretation of what it means to be a nonconformist on Urban Dictionary and I thought it fit me well enough. I've never really put it into words how I usually roll but this was pretty accurate:

It's not that you purposely go against the norms. It's that you fail to recognize the importance rules, structures and social norms and this naturally makes an above average level of uniqueness to you. Given the lack of this pressure to conform to sociality you're given much more freedom to think and act and do. Your acts, thoughts, and ideas may appear absurd to others. Nonconformist tend to either be leaders or loners and mavericks. They are often too new and innovative for their own times. What they hate most is bureaucracy, and way too often when given a position of power they will throwaway the normal routines and traditions of the office.

I consider myself to be a nonconformist because I've never allowed fads, trends, beliefs of others to influence me enough to where I'm set in this mind locking concrete that I will follow a certain line of thinking or anything else society dwells upon. Take celebrity worship or something equally as mindless or insipid, for example. Nonconformity, to me, is more of an attitude than a purposeful unwillingness to follow, without question, a trend, a person or organization of authority or a belief.

Some claim that it is rebelliousness for the sake of rebelliousness. Nope. Sorry, my closed minded, unenlightened monkey. The majority of society thinks that the nonconformist thinks it's something that the nonconformist can throw on, like an obnoxious shirt, just so they can piss the majority off. It's not like that. It's really not a conscious decision. In truth, it's really a matter of strength of mind, independence, free will and honesty. It's just being yourself, for better or worse.

Side effects of being someone that expresses nonconformity can, but not necessarily, include some nice traits such as:

Being creative, intensely independent and individualistic... or being innovative, and trailblazing. I'm not saying I'm any of these, of course. I'm probably as innovative as a speck of dirt on a rock that lays on the side of the road. Still, others that get their jollies by taking the opposite viewpoint on this subject will say that a nonconformist is destined to be a definite loner in society, maybe an immoral individual that is thinking up ways to destroy the world, molest a chickenhawk or some other nonsense. You can't see me but I'm pressing a big red imaginary buzzer at the moment- which represents that this assumption is not only stupid but it can be dangerous- especially dangerous to the innocent person who's victim-less personal choices in life are being thought of as a sinister threat to society. Mass hysteria, anyone? Holy shit!

In truth, nonconformists come in all shapes and sizes and colors and upbringings and class room teachings and so and so on. They conform only to themselves. They are the free thinkers of our human civilization, untouched by the persuasions of a monkey see-monkey do society. All of us could benefit from some of the traits of nonconformity. The bottom line is: Without change and fresh outlooks, it's a stagnate, fearful society we will continue to have, crushing the spirits of all of us.

There now. Glad I got that out of my system. Thanks and have a happy, dandy-as-heck kind of day. Smiles, everyone, smiles!

Second Round of Auditions For The Circus

If you missed the previous "round of auditions", click here, friends and neighbors! It might help you when reading this second part of the story. Either that or it will transport you to a far away loony bin, where purple cross-eyed elves and Happy Ewes in crotchless panties frolic about you as you drool, uncontrollably.

As the family of mentally impaired clown midgets left Asmodeus' Astounding Circus, happy to be newly employed, the ringmaster, Gregorio, grabbed a flask of whiskey from his pocket and took a swig. Byron Asmodeus, the owner of the circus, was a large man with dark brown eyes with just a hint of red surrounding the pupils. The look on his face seemed to convey much wisdom. Byron had owned the circus for 20 odd years. His ringmaster, Gregorio, was his hardworking manager.

Asmodeus stood up from the desk to stretch his long legs after hours of judging, took out a joint, lit it and inhaled deeply. After exhaling, he looked to his ringmaster and asked, "Who's next?"

Gregorio put the flask back in his pocket and announced, "Next, we have a very different group of characters up for audition, my old friend." Asmodeus nodded, rubbed his goatee and said, "Fresh meat for my entertainment."

After this was said, the potential performers for the circus were escorted into the tent by a very large, muscle bound behemoth by the name of Gonza. Gonza was a cruel, burly man who enjoyed his job as Head of Security for Asmodeus. Many claimed Gonza had crushed the skulls of dozens of victims, with his massive hands, in the past. Asmodeus knew of Gonza's past and had hired him, almost immediately.

Asmodeus and Gregorio sat down at the large wooden desk after they had taken a short recess between rounds of auditions.

The first performer stepped onto the stage. Gregorio promptly introduced him, saying, "This is Mr. Wait and See."

Asmodeus asked the man, who seemed weak in appearance, what he did.

Mr. Wait and See said, with little enthusiasm, "I wait and see what will happen as we continue to experience global warming and volatile climate change and ignore all the obvious signs of the evidence around us until civilization crumbles, as it has before, and we, as a supposedly intelligent species, die off."

Asmodeus nodded, considered what Mr. Wait and See had said and then commanded Gonza to come over. Asmodeus explained, "Gonza will assist you in your performance."

Gonza cheerfully and ruthlessly grabbed the puny man's head with both enormous hands and with sheer force, popped Mr. Wait and See's head like a candy-filled piñata. Instead of candy, however, blood, brain matter and bone fragments were sent flying in all directions, hitting everyone in a twenty yard radius. Mr. Wait and See's body fell, lifeless, to the floor.

Asmodeus licked the blood off his lips and then shouted, "Clean up on stage 3!"

Not long after this, a little curly haired dwarf waddled up to the stage with a mop, bucket and other cleaning supplies. Quicker than their eyes could register what they were seeing, the dwarf moved with mercurial speed and had the mess gone in seconds. Gonza took the headless corpse and fed it to the ravenous wolves outside. He laughed heartily and then said, "You don't have to 'wait' for your dinner today, my friends."

The wolves quickly gobbled up the body, with teeth gnashing, tearing the corpse into shreds. With their appetites satiated, the wolves slept comfortably, occasionally cutting the odd fart or two.

"Next, we have The Amazing Trixie to possibly entertain us," explained the ringmaster.

Asmodeus eyed the college girl's voluptuous figure and speculated on how he would enjoy having the young woman as a guest, later, inside his mansion.

"And what can you do for me, today?" asked the ancient circus owner, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth.

The girl, completely overjoyed and oblivious to the fact that someone had just been heinously murdered in front of her, was ignoring Asmodeus and Gregorio. She was texting away on her little electronic contraption about her plans for the upcoming weekend.

"Ahem!" shouted Gregorio, in an attempt to get her attention.

Trixie, startled, looked up and coyly asked, "Oh, it's my turn?" Her sizable breasts jiggled as she bounced up and down, bubbly and full of surprising energy.

Asmodeus stared evilly at Trixie and whispered, "Tell us what you're going to do and do it... Now."

The Amazing Trixie giggled and then replied, "Well, um, heh heh, I'm kinda doing it right now."

Ringmaster Gregorio demanded, "Explain yourself, girl!"

Trixie brushed her blonde hair back, laughed and said, "Well, um, I'm able to text and text and text and never stop, no matter what happens around me."

Asmodeus glared at her. Trixie's once overly perky smile turned upside down into a frown as she added, "Well, um, until now."

Asmodeus rubbed his chin and let out a howl of laughter. Trixie was relieved, taking this as a sign that "all was good in the neighborhood", so to speak.

Crimson horns sprouted, suddenly, from the top of Asmodeus' head. Showing the true nature of who and what he really was, Asmodeus stood up and calmly walked over to Trixie. The demon took Trixie by the chin with his clawed hand and with fiery eyes looking down into her almost completely innocent face, he calmly said, "Gonza, will you please escort the young woman outside so that I may confer with her, in private, later?"

Gonza bounded onto the stage, grabbed Trixie around the waist and hurriedly whisked the college girl off the stage. When this happened, she dropped her texting device. Before she was exited out of the tent, everyone heard her exclaim, "Wait! I dropped my phone! I need to text my gal pals about the new color I painted my toenails!"

By this time the other potential auditioning performers were shifting, uneasily, from foot to foot. They looked up at the demon, Asmodeus, who had somehow grown taller in size and more fierce looking. Trembling, a few of them pissed their pants in fright.

Ignoring their fear, Ringmaster Gregorio waved the next one up onto the stage and introduced a man that was clothed in an expensive suit and tie. He seemed very out of place.

"Next, we have Speaker of The House, John Boner."

The politician nervously corrected the ringmaster and said, "Uh...My name is... um... pronounced 'Bay-ner'... actually."

"Boner, it is, then," said Gregorio, unflinchingly.

Asmodeus bent down, inches from the Speaker of The House's orange-ish colored face and menacingly inquired, "What is it that you believe you can do for me in order to possibly entertain our audiences in the future, Mr. Boner?"

Normally outspoken Republican, John Boehner, hesitated at first, then explained, "Well... I can... cry at will in order to seem... genuinely passionate... for the media and the American public."

"Yes, go on," demanded the demon, with smoke rising up from his hellish form.

Boehner continued, "And I am able, um, eh, to help convince members of congress and the American public that... we really have no need for nationwide healthcare that would allow even the poorest of them access to health insurance."

Boehner paused for a few seconds before saying, "And I have done much more than that... to cause, umm, needless misery for my personal gain. For instance, I..."

The demon held up his clawed hand to stop Boehner from droning on about his achievements.

Asmodeus grinned at the evil of which the politician spoke of. Nevertheless, the demon circus owner was considering the weaknesses of the man before him.

The demon sighed and then replied, "Though you show remarkable qualities in the political arena in which you dwell, I'm afraid there is no position you can fill here."

Boehner seemed sad and caused himself to shed a perfect single tear after hearing this decision.

"Awww," said Asmodeus, "Please don't be despondent, Mr. Boner."

The Speaker of The House looked up and smiled, believing that the demon was taking pity upon him. No sooner than this thought pass in his mind that the great, terrifying figure from the depths of hell rammed his arm down Boehner's throat and slowly pulled out the pathetic man's heart, intestines and other vital organs from his body. The politician's screams were muffled by the demon's arm and his body shook as blood and gore gushed out of every orifice.

Finally, the body fell to the stage floor. The head of the human was an unfamiliar mangled mess as every bone, eye and other parts of his face had been reduced to mush.

Gonza walked over with a garbage bag and scooped up the remains. Before exiting the tent, Gonza said, "Thank you, Master. The wolves will have full bellies, tonight."

Asmodeus laughed, heartily and then replied, "Just be sure to give them something for the indigestion they're likely to have with this last heap of human garbage."

Everyone burst out with gales of nervous laughter. Asmodeus sat back down and asked, "Who wishes to perform for me next?"

This story will likely be continued at a later time... at my convenience. :-)

Hey You, Monkey!

Watch that monkey go in his cage

In his cage

In his cage

Watch that monkey play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Watch that monkey do what's expected of him

Expected of him

Expected of him

Laugh as monkey jumps from trend to trend

Trend to trend

Trend to trend

If that damn monkey don't do

What he's supposed to do

That damn monkey

Will get the boot

(crazy guitar solo)

Now watch that monkey as he cheats and lies

Cheats and lies

Cheats and lies

And hear that monkey, he'll say it's okay

"I'm just keepin' up with everyone

And playin' that everyday game"

Now monkey thinks this rose is not a regular flower

Because monkey thinks this rose has got ultimate power

And monkey thinks it smells so fresh and great

And monkey will fight anything to get at this bait

If that damn monkey don't do

What he's supposed to do

That damn monkey

Will get the boot

(crazy guitar solo)

---------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote this festive little ditty up while casually looking around at the freak show (human race) we're in and our suffering world (unfortunate victim), my fellow monkeys. You're apart of it. No matter how hard you may deny it at times. Might as well laugh while you cry. Might as well let these times go by as you shrug nonchalantly and keep your head up in the sky. Woo hooo.

It's easier that way, isn't it?

Hahahahaha.... Okay, I'm done. Back in the cage, we go.

Mr. Checkers Informs The Public

With as much delight as I can possibly muster, I, Mr. Checkers, reporting the latest news on behalf of Internet sensation, PSYCHO CARNIVAL, am here to inform the public of news and information that really matters a great deal. Hold onto your hats, folks, it's going to be an awfully exciting ride.

* The meat found in food items at Taco Bell restaurants may not be entirely made of ground beef. Astonished, say you? Gosh. Who would have thought? If this seems shocking to you, wait until you read the next tidbit of news. Are you still waiting? Well, stop it and move along, please.

* Cigarettes should not be smoked. They are made of tobacco and poison. Instead, use these cancer sticks as decorative birthday candle casings or tools for magic tricks. Click this link to learn more non-hazardous usages for cigarettes and amaze your friends.

* Hot dogs should not be used for pleasuring your vagina or butt hole. Accidents may occur.Danger, Will Robinson!

* Not long ago, a 93 year old gangster by the name of John "Sonny" Franzese, was sent to prison for eight years. Mr. Checkers has heard of a lot of dumb shit in his time, but this takes the cake and the frosting, too. Why not execute "Sonny" right now? He's not going to live much longer, anyway and it will save the taxpayers a little money by depriving him room and board, courtesy of the rest of us. I say we send the old fucker on his non stop, well-earned journey to hell. Judging by his horrendous crimes, he's had reservations for a seat in the eternal inferno for quite some time.

* I, Mr. Checkers, wants all of you to know that the Great Mystery of The Burned Up Piano On A Sandbar has finally been solved. What a relief! So many have wondered about this amazing, phenomenal event- that it almost made the equally exciting news about Snooki seem tame and not very newsworthy and stuff. It just so happens that a teenager, with obviously a lot of time on his hands, put the fucked up piano on a Miami sandbar because he hoped it might get him into a prestigious art school. It might even get him laid by a smitten admirer of his "artistic" handiwork. Who knows? In any case, Mr. Checkers says, "Good job, dumb ass!"

* Speaking of getting laid... Mr. Checkers is proud to report that he is a member of a species that apparently believes that texting, Facebook and other social networking tools cause new couples to jump into bed faster and get down to business. According to this tantalizing, important news item from Reuters, in the heat of passion, some people just can't get enough of their digital devices. As a matter of fact, Mr. Checkers predicts that manufacturers will soon be equipping their i Pads, cell phones and other electronic thingamajigs with small, yet convenient, pocket pussies and Venus Butterflies for those who are unable to find a love connection by "dickering around" with their ordinary beloved electronic doodads. This type of ingenious thinking has already started to take place, in fact. See here!

This is all that I, Mr. Checkers, has for you now, in regards to news worth knowing about. Tune in next time for more excitement you can't live without and stuff you'll lose sleep over. For more news and information on the downward spiral and insanity our human race celebrates and enjoys, just look around or watch TV or go out in public. The PSYCHO CARNIVAL of life is out there and in here for you to partake, revel in and completely lose what's left of your mind.

Arrivederci!

A Typical, But Not Completely, Typical Day

I woke up, today, around 11:00, after about fours of sleep. Seems like I can't sleep any longer than that, lately, without waking up from some strange dream. They're mostly "guilt dreams". I'm only theorizing about that. But I guess I've been burying my conscious and it only escapes during my sleep. This beast has been having it's fun with me for the past month and IT is getting mighty annoying.

Pop goes the nasty shit! It's running out of my mind's door! Unfortunately, it's still in my sleepy head, where it stays trapped. Fuckin' guilt! I liked it better when I didn't dream. A decent sex dream would be welcome, for certain.

When I'm awake, I don't think about anything "I believe" I've done wrong. Normally. But, like the therapist pointed out during one session several years ago... He said I persecute myself and think I deserve punishment for things I've said or have done towards people. He also said that I seem to have the tendency to formulate it in my head like whatever I said or did- to be blown out of proportion. He based it on things I had said, when I was around this or that person, from other sessions.

Makes sense. So now the shitty goop of misplaced or unwarranted guilt is popping up in my dreams. Ah, how nice. But I'm going to confront it head on and admit that I'm not that bad a person and carry on... Even if it takes a hammer to my head to knock the evil goop out my ears. I can't afford therapy at the moment, so I'm going to do battle with my stupid brain, by myself. Like Homer Simpson, I'm going to give it a good talking to and tell it who's boss. If that doesn't work, it's HAMMER TIME, baby.

As I was saying, I woke up, made coffee, petted the cat and put two Bacon and Cheese Hot Pockets in the microwave. Soon enough, I ate them and played my messages on the answering machine. One was from the wifey, telling me she made it to work alright. Good. Next, was the receptionist from my doctor's office. She was letting me know that my insulin pens for my diabetes came in from the patient assistance program. Definitely good news. They had messed up the order of insulin last time and if I hadn't caught that it was the wrong stuff-- when I picked it up from the doctor's office, I could have taken it home, injected it into myself and.... Who knows?

After that, I showered, made supper for later tonight and got my clothes on. That's right! I was cooking in the nude! Excited? No? Alrighty then. Anyway, while I was managing to cook up some Tuna Helper, the cat started going nuts when he smelled the tuna cans I was opening. He kept leaping on my legs as the cans slowly turned round and round the electric can opener. At one point, I thought he was going to strike at my lopsided nutsack and rip into it. Then my precious jelly beans would fall out! Then I would feel blue. My solution is to give him a can of Fancy Feast cat food in a can. It's something we give him as a treat, once in awhile. It says on the can that it is Whitefish and Tuna flavored. Ah ha... That will fool him, I think, patting myself on the back.

I set the bowl of juicy, succulent cat food down on the floor (are you as horny as I am?) and he eats it like a little piggy. His normal bowl of cat food is sitting there, halfway full, next to the water bowl. He's a spoiled little bastard. But then I feel sorry for him because he is our only "child" now. Mufasa, our eldest cat, died, recently. We only have Victor now. He's loving and playful and lonely. We plan on getting him a playmate after Christmas. It's too hectic these days and it takes patience to train a kitten, which is what we'll be looking for when the time comes. No pound kitties, though. We had extremely bad luck with that. That was years ago. Max the Cat was his name and shitting behind and beneath megaton furniture, for no good reason, was his game. Sometimes we didn't find his piss and shit surprises until it was too late. Almost needless to say, Max was returned before I could kill him. We gave him four weeks too many. If I wanted to clean up shit for longer than four weeks, I would have had a friggin' kid. No thanks. There's already enough breeders in this world as it is. Many of them aren't equipped with enough brains or conscious to do battle with themselves.

But, on the same token, responsible parents are just as easy to spot.

I say we give the rotten adults an abortion. Or... Any more than two kids, then you have to give up your genitals. Sorry. Rules are rules and we know how humans love their rules. Lap dog, over breeding imbeciles that don't put on their turn signal when they're changing lanes, by damned it! What was I talking about? Damn those voices in my head.

Immediately, when I finished cooking, I got dressed, brushed my teeth, put on my jacket and hat and out the door I went. I went to doctor's office to pick up the insulin pens, went to the grocery store to pick up lunch meat and bread, went to get monetarily raped at the gas station where the gas is currently at $2.85 a gallon and then I went back home. I checked to see if they got my insulin order right this time. They did! Jackpot! I get to live a couple more months. Hooray. And stuff. After putting everything away, I got back in the truck and drove to the park, with haste.

I had to get my daily park walking done in a hurry. It would be dark soon and wifey was going to be home in a half hour. I try to be there for her so I can be a good husband and not get a beating with the baseball bat. I'm so abused. OK. I might be exaggerating just a little. But she does confide in me that she would like to cut my dick off while I'm asleep. But strangely, that's not why I have trouble sleeping at night. By the way, I laugh when she says such things because I threaten to twist her nipple off now and then. It's like an ongoing comedy routine we have going on. 21 years. Quite healthy.

So off to the park I go. The first person I see is the guy by the athletics supply building. This building sits close to the tennis court that is hardly used and still looks new and the basketball court, nearby, that is the same way. The guy, I'm guessing, is the guy who takes care of supplying the athletes with enough balls and stuff to do their thing. The door was open, obviously, with a key. He looked at me, giving off a little vibe of nervousness. Maybe I imagined it.

All I've ever seen, as far as any games being played at the park, is two Pee Wee football games attended by millions of crazed parents and the other times when a couple kids were playing a few basketball games. Anybody else you see in that park are walkers, runners, people trying to fish at a lake without fish and the park employees. Maybe once a week, you'll see a cop car run through the park. If you wanted to, you could probably get away with fucking, sucking, fisting, lickin' the va-jay-jay and other horseplay down at the large gazebo by the lake without too much trouble. Party time.

Anyway, the supply guy at the building says, ""It's getting colder out here."

I say, "Yeah, it is."

Hell, I don't know what else to say. Supply Guy didn't give me much to work with. By the way, it was getting colder. It was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit at the time. For the rest of you, in other countries, I have no idea what that is in Celsius. I won't check, either, because I'm American and don't give a shit. I think that's the American Way. The metric system can go fuck itself, too. The last person who tried to teach me the metric system was a nun from the parochial school I attended. I rammed a pencil in her eye. Not to worry, though. It was a No. 2 Pencil. And she cried out, "Praise da Lawd!"

After walking the usual path, I find a second person. He is walking toward me from the other direction. He looks like he could be crazy. He's wearing a grey coat with a black sock cap on his head. So I nod to him and do what most folks do in that situation. I say, "Hi.", without really looking at him. He does nothing but nod his head, not wanting to be bothered by my evil, intrusive greetings and keep his hands in his pockets. I wonder if he's hiding Barbie Doll heads in his pockets. Then I wonder if they still have the bathrooms locked or unlocked up ahead in the yellow building. I have problems with my butt. It likes to shit. Although I'm not at the stage of routine adult diaper wear, I have had an accident at the park because they will lock them when it gets closer to winter. During that accident, it was so cold... The turds froze to my leg underneath my pants. Talk about feeling blue... and brown.

When I got home, I was able to shake a leg to pop the turdcicles from the very bottoms of my pants legs.

Minutes go by during my walk now. I have to stop every five to ten minutes because of my foot conditions. I have inoperable 2 and a half inch heel spurs (my feet have been X-rayed so many times, I lost count) and equinus deformity on both feet. The heel spurs have connected to the rest of the bones in my footsies. It's like walking on railroad spikes with misshapen, unbalanced feet. I've tried everything so spare me the advice that I've heard a billion times. Thanks, anyway, stranger. I've done my time with the fancy insoles, shoes and whatever. I've had almost thirty years of experience with it. But I force myself to walk short distances, anyway, because I still need to exercise. It's called perseverance, people. I was going to the gym almost every day for a year and a half and lost thirty pounds but that routine got fucked up during the continuous moving fiasco with my dad's old place that lasted 6 weeks. Now, I'm just trying to keep up with my walking routine.

Regardless, I see a couple walking their pet dog. It has a pink outfit on. I restrain myself from killing the couple. I smile, then say, "Hi. How are you tonight?" They say something back but it doesn't matter. I'm not listening. I'm still thinking of the poor dog in the pink cowboy outfit. As I walk further, I wonder if it's too late to limp back and bash the couple in their heads, thus freeing the dog. Then I think, Well the next thing to happen, if successful, would be the dog rewarding me, with it's rescue of it, by biting a finger off from my hand and taking my nose off my face. Oh well. I keep walking. No good deed goes unpunished. This has always been especially true, in my experience.

In conclusion, I struggle through the rest of my walk, make it home in time before the wife, serve her and I supper and watch a couple shows that we pre-recorded the night before. We talk for awhile. My wife goes to bed early. She's tired. It's getting busier where she works. And now, I'm typing on this keyboard and telling you I'm about to sign off. Who knows? I may come to your blog and leave a comment. Ah, can you feel the excitement?

Behold! You are at the end of this journey I took you on, brave soldier. You must celebrate by flagellating yourself. Or by fixing yourself a hot cup of coffee. Your choice. I won't peek.

Don't You Hate Using Emoticons?

Don't You Hate Emoticons?

I know I do. Most of the time, I feel I have to use emoticons to let people know I'm kidding in a comment, blog post or email just so some Dumbass, with a capital D, won't get their feelings hurt or misinterpret what I said or mean.

It's tedious and ridiculous doing that shit.

Here's a great idea I stole from an email from my not-so-slightly-warped Aunt. They're called Assicons.

:) means smile and
:( is a frown
Sometimes these are represented by
:-)
:-(

Well, hey gang, how about trying this latest up and coming trend that you're sure to want to get in on.... ASSICONS!


(_!_) a regular ass


(__!__) a fat ass

(!) a tight ass

(_*_) a sore ass

{_!_} a swishy ass

(_o_) an ass that's been around

(_x_) kiss my ass

(_X_) leave my ass alone

(_zzz_) a tired ass

(_E=mc2_) a smart ass

(_$_) Money coming out of his ass

(_?_) Dumb Ass

They're not only useful, they're amusing. So, why not try Assicons? They're not any more asinine than emoticons.

Electronics Are Evil

Remember when stores just came out with those U-scans? They cheerfully declared them a machine that would ensure an easier, quicker way for the consumer to check out his or her stuff- so you can get the hell out of the store before some asshole you can't stand sees you and starts up an unwanted conversation when you just want to get home and relax. Just slide your package of crap across the scanner, listen for the little "beep" telling you your thing's bar code was picked up and ready to be set inside your bag. And don't forget, you better put it the bag right away or something bad will transpire.

The things you should regard, as you go through the process are:

As much as you think you're one smart monkey by avoiding the long lines with real human cashiers, the U-scan, approximately eighty percent of the time, will have an error/question/glitch happen with at least one of your items. When this frustrating development comes about and pushes you increasingly into full fruition as anger at the machine, perhaps causing you to rescan your thing dozens of times, at variable angles in the hopes it will go through, a wondrous miracle may occur. And I'm not talking about dropping dead to be done with this wretched society and all of it's "gotta-have-it" gadgetry .

No.

This miracle will come in the form of a human being. Especially miraculous will be the good fortune of having that human being be a person that can actually help you. He or she will push some buttons, and perhaps, she will even make it work. Or not. It may take up to four different miracle workers to make it work. The cashier manager may have to be called. Maybe the store manager. Or God, himself. Though I doubt God would want to have anything to do with the useless piece of crap called a U-scan.

Cellphones are the work of the devil. There, I said it. Embrace it as truth!

I don't care what company or plan or brand you're using, you will eventually be in an area where the cellphone can't get a signal. This will occur when you need it to work desperately. Let's say your car has broke down during sub zero temperatures out in the middle of a land that time forgot- this will be the time your cellphone won't work. Maybe you can blame it on your surroundings, lack of signal towers (don't know what they're called for sure and don't care) or maybe the heat or ice has caused "the little gadget that couldn't" to pop and explode. Who knows? It doesn't matter. At the time when you need it most, it will fail. Piece of shit. The end.

Of course, let's not forget how annoying cell phones are when you're eating at a restaurant or in line for the u-scan and some asshole (it could even be you) gets one of those "clever little ring tone jingles" and the guy or girl is talking on it like it's greatest thing- that they got called so they can talk really loud and for a long time about something trivial like "maybe I should get that new Blackberry Piece of Shit Electronic Gadget that they advertise so I can waste more time and money."

Computers will also screw up. We all know that. Teeth gritting. Panic at meeting a deadline. The computer doesn't care. You can say it's human error or a hacker or the lack of an update or latest driver or whatever all you want. But you would think, even with all of the fancy-smancey repair programs and anti-spyware/anti-virus applications that's out there now, that computers have been around so long- so very fucking long- that they should be able to repair themselves of anything now- whether it be from human error or otherwise.

Cars are no different. I believe just about every car being manufactured nowadays (I'm never one hundred percent sure of anything) has an electronic "brain" or something like that. Eventually, because most cars are comprised of so many electronic components and this "brain", it will eventually fail. I fill the fluids and fix the small stuff on my own crapolas on wheels and that's it. I've never been interested in cars. Go ahead and rev that engine. Wank yourself silly, while doing so. After paying what you pay for this sad mode of transportation, it too will eventually fail. It can be a new vehicle. It can be old. It can be a hybrid. It can be a hovercraft type car from the future.

Sure, a real mechanic can correct me on this and that, concerning cars. I, in turn, will offer my utmost concern by shrugging and walk away. I hate cars. Any electronic that fails and cannot repair itself should self detonate next to some asshole talking on the cell phone about nothing.

In short, all electronics are worthless pieces of evil shit.

A Slightly New Direction With PC

About the 3 part series of posts: It was something I had to get out of my system- something to get out of the way before I start raising some real hell around here.

Before, the website was, for the most part, less personal, always kind of covering up what crap I was going through at the time. But since my outlook has changed and I truly don't give a shit anymore (in a good way-for me), I'm not going to write for the entertainment of the readers, but for myself. Self therapy, if you will. Sure, there will be the funny/serious observations, pics, videos and so forth but from now on- I'm really going to get real and more brutal with the honesty- with everything and everyone, as a matter of fact. A lot of fuckers won't like what I have to say and I think you know how much I care about that.

Also, I don't care about winning any sort of popular blog contest.  I notice many bloggers these days are whoring themselves out to the extreme in the social networking fray.  Joining this, twittering that.  Ha ha.  And hey,  I might do the twitter thing now and then or whatever other new and ridiculous bullshit is out there, but frankly, I don't need the attention or numbers for blog visits to give me a boner.  I'm not that insecure.  Personally, I think it's sad what lengths some folks will go to for fame or money, for that matter.  The excuses used for it all are lamer yet.

Like I said, I'm doing the blog entirely for me now.  If ya like what I got- that's fine.  If not-that's fine, too.

That's it for this post.  Take care.

Thoughts And Theories On Propaganda

"History and simple observation of people around you show how easily the majority can be swayed. Put the right kind of carrot in front of them or the right kind of scare behind them and they will jump in the direction that you wish them to go." -Kelly

"No enlightened person wishes to be duped by his desires, his fantasies, his glands." Gordon W. Allport

"All coercive techniques involve, on one level or another, frightening, or threatening, or intimidating a person, so that they move into survival mode." Douglas Rushkoff

"If we understand the mechanisms and motives of the group mind, it is now possible to control and regiment the masses according to our will without their knowing it." Edward L. Bernays

"Every time you watch someone else doing something (or even starting to do something), the corresponding mirror neuron might fire in your brain..." Arleen Raymond

"I think the subject which will be of most importance politically is mass psychology....Although this science will be diligently studied, it will be rigidly confined to the governing class. The populace will not be allowed to know how its convictions were generated." Bertrand Russell

"It would not be impossible to prove with sufficient repetition and psychological understanding of the people concerned that a square is in fact a circle. They are mere words and words can be molded until they clothe ideas in disguise." - Joseph Goebbels

"We shall assume that what each man does is based not on direct and certain knowledge, but on pictures made by himself or given to him...But what is propaganda, if not the effort to alter the picture to which men respond, to substitute one social pattern for another?" - Walter Lippmann

"The notion of rational man, capable of thinking and living according to reason, of controlling his passions and living according to scientific patterns, of choosing freely between good and evil--all this seems opposed to the secret influences, the mobilizations of myths, the swift appeals to the irrational, so characteristic of propaganda." - Jacques Ellul

"There are no facts." - Michel Foucault

"You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you mad." - Aldous Huxley

Propaganda--context and definitions

"If you think about how you think, you will find your mind is made of memories, facts, and that sort of thing; you picked these up through continual reinforcement... Using a computer metaphor, your mind is hardware (the grey matter, providing you with senses, nerve endings, neurons) and software (combined from that odd core of your being that is doing the reflecting, and the material it is reflecting upon, kind of like a computer program and its data). That isn't the whole story, of course; there is an unidentified extra component, the 'wetware,' that gives you free will, volition, self-awareness. We know next to nothing about how this piece works; it appears to be an odd combination of chaotic and stochastic processes, transcending both. About the only thing we know for certain about the human mind is that we haven't even begun to utilize it to its full potential." Michael Wilson, from: "Mimetic Engineering PsyOps and Viruses for the Wetware"

Propaganda - "Systematic manipulation of public opinion, generally by the use of symbols such as flags, monuments, oratory, and publications. Modern propaganda is distinguished from other forms of communication in that it is consciously and deliberately used to influence group attitudes; all other functions are secondary. Thus, almost any attempt to sway public opinion, including lobbying, commercial advertising, and missionary work, can be broadly construed as propaganda." Columbia Encyclopedia

Propaganda - "The deliberate attempt to influence mass attitudes on controversial subjects by the use of symbols rather than force. 2. A systematic effort to persuade a body of people to support or adopt a particular product, opinion, attitude, or course of action. Propaganda and Persuasion Techniques A Guide to Identifying Manipulative Information by Virginia Stewart, M.Ed.

"Words are the new weapons, satellites the new artillery. . . . Caesar had his officers; Napoleon had his armies. I have my divisions: TV, news, magazines." -- Arch villain Elliot Carver to James Bond in Tomorrow Never Dies

"As generally understood, propaganda is opinion expressed for the purpose of influencing actions of individuals or groups... Propaganda thus differs fundamentally from scientific analysis. The propagandist tries to "put something across," good or bad. The scientist does not try to put anything across; he devotes his life to the discovery of new facts and principles. The propagandist seldom wants careful scrutiny and criticism; his object is to bring about a specific action. The scientist, on the other hand, is always prepared for and wants the most careful scrutiny and criticism of his facts and ideas. Science flourishes on criticism. Dangerous propaganda crumbles before it." Alfred McLung Lee & Elizabeth Bryant Lee, from: The Fine Art of Propaganda

Strange Occurrences

SAGINAW, Mich. — A man who police said was arrested for performing a sex act with a car wash vacuum was sentenced to 90 days in jail on Wednesday and ordered to submit to drug testing. The 29-year-old man pleaded no contest to indecent exposure last month.


My opinion: If you really feel the urge to push your stink log into something mechanical or non-human, why not try a nice ripe watermelon, with a hole in it-in the privacy of your own home. After you're finished, why not give the used melon to a friend?


Not that I would do that sort of thing.


NEW YORK– A small political party angry at bonuses paid to staff of bailed out insurance giant American International Group is organizing a bus tour to the Connecticut homes of several AIG executives. "We're all mad at AIG," the Connecticut Working Families Party, a small liberal party, said on its Web site, inviting people to sign up for its "Lifestyles of the Rich and Infamous" bus tour and a rally at the company's Wilton, Connecticut, headquarters, on Saturday.


"Their executives bear a large share of the responsibility for bringing the economy to its knees, and now the same folks are getting hundreds of millions of dollars in bonuses -- at our expense," the website said.

My opinion: Don't forget to bring the napalm!

BRUSSELS - A world record in the length of a queue to a toilet was set on Sunday when 756 people lined up to a latrine in central Brussels to raise awareness for the need for clean water on World Water Day.

My opinion: I'd hate to be the last one. I would be PISSED.


HUNTINGTON BEACH, Calif. - Police are seeking a woman they said used a false identity to get breast implants and liposuction, then skipped town. Huntington Beach police said Monday that a 30-year-old woman opened a line of credit in someone else's name in September 2008 and had the procedures worth more than $12,000 performed at the Pacific Center For Plastic Surgery.


My opinion: Some women will do anything to get a man's attention (and money, eventually). I hope they catch the vain, crooked bitch and she gets her boob balloons ripped out with a rusty pair of pliers.

January 2008, London's The Sun found a practitioner of a new art form in which a design is inked, with a tattoo needle, into the sclera, which is the white part of the eyeball. That volunteer (from Canada) may well be the only daredevil, or one of a tiny number, but Oklahoma state senators were alarmed enough that they passed legislation out of committee in February to ban the practice in their state. "If we can stop ... one person from doing it, we've been successful," said Sen. Cliff Branan. An Oklahoma City tattoo artist told KSBI-TV that the law is useless, in that "common sense" will prevent the problem.

My opinion: Unfortunately, most people don't apply "common sense" to much of anything anymore. I'm waiting for eyeball piercings to come out as the latest fad. The willing participants won't complain about being blind as long as they feel trendy.

LAKELAND, Fla. - An eighth-grader was suspended from riding the school bus for three days after being accused of passing gas. The bus driver wrote on a misbehavior form that a 15-year-old teen passing gas on the bus on March 16 to make the other children laugh, creating a stench so bad that it was difficult to breathe. The bus driver handed the teen the suspension form the next day. Polk County school officials said there's no rule against flatulence, but there are rules against causing a disturbance on the bus.

My opinion: If the bus driver can't handle gagging to the point of vomiting on some kid's nasty rectal bombs, then he shouldn't have become a bus driver.