“50/50 Jimmy”
Me and my TV’s have been sitting here in the living room munching and drinking our way through 5 gigantic Sam’s Club uber-sized cans of tomato paste and 5 cases of IPA beer, both the St. Richard Nixon brand, while watching a tape of a bizarre Ukrainian TV commercial. No, your local Sam’s Club doesn’t carry St. Richard Nixon brand, not tomato paste, beer or any product. My friends, the red-haired Republican alien space babes, they dropped off the St. Richard Nixon tomato paste and beer. If it’s good enough for the space babes, it’s good enough for me. And the babes are the ones who turned me on to Ukrainian pirate, stealth internet TV: well, sort of the ones.
Actually, it was my landlords who introduced me to the channel, but the space babes were in the grocery store’s back room at the time, and they are the ones who explained the Ukrainian TV channel to me. Before we talk about the TV channel, though, I suppose I need to talk about my landlord.
Have I mentioned that I rent my house, not that I can’t afford to buy, but that I prefer to rent, incase things get hot and I need to move at a moments notice? Well, I do, and after one quick departure I ended up in the next town, met these 3 red-haired women who own an Eastern European grocery store—and had a house next door to rent. The women, a mother and 2 daughters, live in the upstairs part of the grocery store building.
These women are used to living ‘under the radar and off the books’ which helps me live ‘under the radar and off the books’ which has helped me stay at this location much longer than usual. In fact, the red-haired women tell me they can make sure I never have to move in the middle of the night again, out of fear for the FBI and such kinds of folks. How could they make such a promise? They knew the space babes, and got me in touch with them. They met the space babes one night at Trout Lake, Washington, where there are nightly UFO visits. Once I became friends with the space babes, well let’s say the FBI and their kind are no match for the space babes.
This brings us back to the TV channel and this strange commercial. The space babes just love the commercial, and gave me a tape of it. Here I’ll play it for you:
A voice over runs as the fancy European dressed male lawyer talks amusingly with two clients in his office. This is what the voice over said:
“Can you afford to eat out at a fancy restaurant every night? Neither could I until a lawyer, Bohdan “50/50 Jimmy” Cheburko, helped me. How did he do it?”
On the screen we now see Jimmy talking with a group of friendly looking old grandmothers. The women and Jimmy are laughing and having a good time. The voice-over continues.
“Jimmy can arrange to have one of his stable of ‘grandmothers’ sue you, and take everything you’ve got. Then Jimmy will split it with you “50/50”. That’s half for you, and half for Jimmy! That’s right—50/50! And your money problems will be over for ever!”
On the screen we now see only Jimmy. He is laughing and looking off toward one of the grandmothers. Then, he turns and looks directly into the camera.
“That’s right, let me “50/50 Jimmy” Cheburko, sue you for everything you’ve got and then I’ll split it with you “50/50”, and you’ll never have to worry about money ever again!”
On the screen we again see a wide shot of Jimmy and the grandmothers, still laughing. Jimmy’s phone number flashes on the screen. Then the commercial is over.
I know what you’re thinking—‘This is obviously a scam’. Before Jimmy sues you, you own 100% of what you own. After Jimmy gets done with you, well, you only own 50% of what you owned. The space babes, however, tell me they use Jimmy’s services after every shady business maneuver they pull off. And the space babes are very happy with Jimmy’s work.
I hear a knock on the door. I can tell by the knocking that it’s the red-haired women, both on-planet and off-planet women, and they are in a party mood. They’re going to come in, see the commercial and rave about Jimmy. I still think Jimmy is pulling a scam, but haven’t been able to convince the women. What do you think about Jimmy’s deal?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
No TV Left Behind
BeerBoy1 Calling BeerBoy Mothership, Come In Mothership!!
No TV Left Behind
No, I’m not a TV hoarder! These rumors are just vicious slurs being thrown about by the anti-TV fringe crazies. Don’t want to just take my word? Well, the Television Services Division (TVSD), a branch of Children Services Division, has even stated so! TVSD came out to my house and looked at the way I take care of my many TV’s. The TVSD case workers cleared me of any wrong doing, and in fact said I take excellent care of my TV’s! Framed copies of the TVSD certifying documents are in every room of my house—that’s every room!
So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me tell you why this thing about me being a ‘TV hoarder’ has been known to come up. Scattered throughout my house are 57 TV’s. This is a 2-story place, with basement. Okay, I know that sounds like a lot of TV’s. But, with so many TV’s these days desperate for a home, what else could I do? Should I just let them be orphaned, stuck at Goodwill stores, or worse yet, hauled off to the trash heap and killed?
I know you’ve seen those TV commercials, the ones by that TV adoption placement agency No TV Left Behind. Most people see those commercials and don’t give another thought to the plight of TV’s in America now days. Sometimes I wish I was one of those cold hearted jerks. My life would be so much simpler. Then a TV near me at home blurts out a happy refrain, and pulls me out of my worries. And suddenly, there I am again, happy I’m not one of those cold hearted jerks. That’s when I’m glad I’ve got 57 TV’s.
Oh, no, it’s playing again--that No TV Left Behind commercial. I’ll shut up so we can watch and listen to it together. The TV’s scattered around my kitchen are all tuned to the same channel:
On the screens we see a long shot of a big US city junkyard. Seagulls fly overhead. The debris looks like what’s left over from a garage sale, or what you’d decide to throw away while getting ready to move.
The camera shot changes to a close view of the junk. In the middle of the screen is a 28 inch TV. It is an old style large box type, not a flat screen. To the right of the TV a rat is chewing on the TV’s power cord. A seagull sits on the top of the TV, and bird droppings mark the screen. To the left a seagull chews at an old copy of TV Guide. Near the screen center is the TV’s remote control. Two rats gnaw at the remote.
Then the camera pulls back a bit. A man wearing a hunting shirt and blue jeans walks over to the TV. Kneeling on one knee he puts his right hand on the TV and lovingly strokes the top of the box. The seagulls and rats ignored him and kept doing what they were doing. The man looks at the TV.
“Hi friends, this Matt again, for No TV Left Behind. This TV here rotting away in this hellhole used to be the beloved friend of a girl, Amy, who went to a college not far from this dump”.
He hugs the set with one arm, and turns his gaze into the camera.
“That afternoon at the college football stadium when Amy’s first boyfriend ever announced he was dumping her by having the news flashed over the scoreboard at halftime, and her drunk friends thought it was hilarious--who could she turn to? After Amy ran home to her apartment, locked the door, and pulled her phone cord out of the wall--it was this TV here, who stayed up all night with her, running the channels with her looking for sympathy”.
The man picked up the remote control. The rats clung to the remote, chewing the rubber buttons.
“And later that night after downing all that beer, pizza and ice cream, when Amy was too drunk to get off the couch, this TV still didn’t abandon her. From the cozy safety of the couches deep cushions, she used this remote—“
The man held up the remote, with the rats chewing the rubber buttons.
“—this remote, to channel surf. Amy’s despair was about to deepen, though. While surfing she discovered the 11 PM local news replaying a recording of her humiliating dumping that a ‘friend’ of Amy’s had recorded at the football stadium on a cell phone, and the local news anchor, who found the recording on You-Tube, had thought the tape so hilarious he had to play it over, and over, and over. Staring into the depths of the screen she realized she had only one true friend in the universe—this TV.”
“And then, while sitting on the couch, she used her lap top, went to You-Tube, and discovered that in the few hours the tape had been on You-Tube over 3 million people had viewed her humiliation. And finding that 87% of the viewers, people who had never met her, thought her now ex-first boyfriend ever had done the right thing—how did she deal with this mounting humiliation? She looked into her TV and found a friend who didn’t laugh at her.”
I looked around the kitchen, at the TV’s crowded in to every little nook and cranny. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about the times they had consoled me. Matt continued talking.
“What about in the morning, when Amy was awakened on the couch by a call on her cell phone from that Hollywood producer, who had seen the You-Tube tape, and wanted to buy the rights to her story? While listening to the producer’s sales pitch, Amy heard noise outside her apartment, near the street. Holding the phone she went over to the window, and pulled back a curtain. Outside were hundreds of people holding signs, all supporting her boyfriend dumping her. Amy looked at the faces and realized she didn’t know any of them, these hundreds of strangers who had decided to side with her now ex-first boyfriend ever.
“Amy realized she could never attend classes at that college ever again. She accepted the producer’s money offer, money that would give her a new life somewhere else, where she could get plastic surgery to hide her You-Tube famous face, and change her name.
“When the producers assistants showed up later that night, to whisk her away in a taxi, through the still large crowd outside her apartment, Amy could only take a few things with her—2 suitcases, the lap top—and this TV.
“Then what happened, after the plastic surgery, the name change, and transferring to another college? At the new school, a haven for New Agers, she fell in with a crowd of pot smoking, cigarette smoking, vegetarian intellectuals who told Amy that TV’s were a ‘bad influence’. Those intellectuals had thrown their TV’s in the garbage. Delighted to have human friends again Amy threw the TV, and this remote control, into the trash”.
The No TV Left Behind man stood and looked passionately into the camera, holding the remote control, still with the 2 rats chewing the rubber buttons.
“Now, this once beloved TV, more loyal than any now ex-first boyfriend ever could be, lies in this trash heap. But you can help—“
Oh, no, he’s talking to me, David, who already owns 57 TV’s.
“Yes, you, by sending just 27 cents a day to No TV Left Behind, can help us to give this dear TV a good home.”
The man held the remote control in front of him, and pushed it toward the camera.
“Or, you can be a greedy jerk, spend that money on another worthless fancy coffee, and leave this TV to be eaten by rats. It’s your choice.”
What could I do? I picked up the phone, and called No TV Left Behind. I asked the woman on the other end of the phone what was the name of the TV in the trash heap. She told me that out of loyalty for her former owner, the TV had asked to be named ‘Amy’. Would I be willing to donate 27 cents a day to keep ‘Amy’ out of the rain, and away from rats?
Right then I knew I could do better. I told the woman that I would adopt Amy’s abandoned TV outright. When the woman heard my offer she yelled to her coworkers about the good news, and I heard cheers coming from the other No TV Left Behind phone operators.
As the warmth of the phone operators love sank in to me I knew I’d done the right thing. ‘Amy’ was now my 58th TV!
No TV Left Behind
No, I’m not a TV hoarder! These rumors are just vicious slurs being thrown about by the anti-TV fringe crazies. Don’t want to just take my word? Well, the Television Services Division (TVSD), a branch of Children Services Division, has even stated so! TVSD came out to my house and looked at the way I take care of my many TV’s. The TVSD case workers cleared me of any wrong doing, and in fact said I take excellent care of my TV’s! Framed copies of the TVSD certifying documents are in every room of my house—that’s every room!
So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me tell you why this thing about me being a ‘TV hoarder’ has been known to come up. Scattered throughout my house are 57 TV’s. This is a 2-story place, with basement. Okay, I know that sounds like a lot of TV’s. But, with so many TV’s these days desperate for a home, what else could I do? Should I just let them be orphaned, stuck at Goodwill stores, or worse yet, hauled off to the trash heap and killed?
I know you’ve seen those TV commercials, the ones by that TV adoption placement agency No TV Left Behind. Most people see those commercials and don’t give another thought to the plight of TV’s in America now days. Sometimes I wish I was one of those cold hearted jerks. My life would be so much simpler. Then a TV near me at home blurts out a happy refrain, and pulls me out of my worries. And suddenly, there I am again, happy I’m not one of those cold hearted jerks. That’s when I’m glad I’ve got 57 TV’s.
Oh, no, it’s playing again--that No TV Left Behind commercial. I’ll shut up so we can watch and listen to it together. The TV’s scattered around my kitchen are all tuned to the same channel:
On the screens we see a long shot of a big US city junkyard. Seagulls fly overhead. The debris looks like what’s left over from a garage sale, or what you’d decide to throw away while getting ready to move.
The camera shot changes to a close view of the junk. In the middle of the screen is a 28 inch TV. It is an old style large box type, not a flat screen. To the right of the TV a rat is chewing on the TV’s power cord. A seagull sits on the top of the TV, and bird droppings mark the screen. To the left a seagull chews at an old copy of TV Guide. Near the screen center is the TV’s remote control. Two rats gnaw at the remote.
Then the camera pulls back a bit. A man wearing a hunting shirt and blue jeans walks over to the TV. Kneeling on one knee he puts his right hand on the TV and lovingly strokes the top of the box. The seagulls and rats ignored him and kept doing what they were doing. The man looks at the TV.
“Hi friends, this Matt again, for No TV Left Behind. This TV here rotting away in this hellhole used to be the beloved friend of a girl, Amy, who went to a college not far from this dump”.
He hugs the set with one arm, and turns his gaze into the camera.
“That afternoon at the college football stadium when Amy’s first boyfriend ever announced he was dumping her by having the news flashed over the scoreboard at halftime, and her drunk friends thought it was hilarious--who could she turn to? After Amy ran home to her apartment, locked the door, and pulled her phone cord out of the wall--it was this TV here, who stayed up all night with her, running the channels with her looking for sympathy”.
The man picked up the remote control. The rats clung to the remote, chewing the rubber buttons.
“And later that night after downing all that beer, pizza and ice cream, when Amy was too drunk to get off the couch, this TV still didn’t abandon her. From the cozy safety of the couches deep cushions, she used this remote—“
The man held up the remote, with the rats chewing the rubber buttons.
“—this remote, to channel surf. Amy’s despair was about to deepen, though. While surfing she discovered the 11 PM local news replaying a recording of her humiliating dumping that a ‘friend’ of Amy’s had recorded at the football stadium on a cell phone, and the local news anchor, who found the recording on You-Tube, had thought the tape so hilarious he had to play it over, and over, and over. Staring into the depths of the screen she realized she had only one true friend in the universe—this TV.”
“And then, while sitting on the couch, she used her lap top, went to You-Tube, and discovered that in the few hours the tape had been on You-Tube over 3 million people had viewed her humiliation. And finding that 87% of the viewers, people who had never met her, thought her now ex-first boyfriend ever had done the right thing—how did she deal with this mounting humiliation? She looked into her TV and found a friend who didn’t laugh at her.”
I looked around the kitchen, at the TV’s crowded in to every little nook and cranny. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about the times they had consoled me. Matt continued talking.
“What about in the morning, when Amy was awakened on the couch by a call on her cell phone from that Hollywood producer, who had seen the You-Tube tape, and wanted to buy the rights to her story? While listening to the producer’s sales pitch, Amy heard noise outside her apartment, near the street. Holding the phone she went over to the window, and pulled back a curtain. Outside were hundreds of people holding signs, all supporting her boyfriend dumping her. Amy looked at the faces and realized she didn’t know any of them, these hundreds of strangers who had decided to side with her now ex-first boyfriend ever.
“Amy realized she could never attend classes at that college ever again. She accepted the producer’s money offer, money that would give her a new life somewhere else, where she could get plastic surgery to hide her You-Tube famous face, and change her name.
“When the producers assistants showed up later that night, to whisk her away in a taxi, through the still large crowd outside her apartment, Amy could only take a few things with her—2 suitcases, the lap top—and this TV.
“Then what happened, after the plastic surgery, the name change, and transferring to another college? At the new school, a haven for New Agers, she fell in with a crowd of pot smoking, cigarette smoking, vegetarian intellectuals who told Amy that TV’s were a ‘bad influence’. Those intellectuals had thrown their TV’s in the garbage. Delighted to have human friends again Amy threw the TV, and this remote control, into the trash”.
The No TV Left Behind man stood and looked passionately into the camera, holding the remote control, still with the 2 rats chewing the rubber buttons.
“Now, this once beloved TV, more loyal than any now ex-first boyfriend ever could be, lies in this trash heap. But you can help—“
Oh, no, he’s talking to me, David, who already owns 57 TV’s.
“Yes, you, by sending just 27 cents a day to No TV Left Behind, can help us to give this dear TV a good home.”
The man held the remote control in front of him, and pushed it toward the camera.
“Or, you can be a greedy jerk, spend that money on another worthless fancy coffee, and leave this TV to be eaten by rats. It’s your choice.”
What could I do? I picked up the phone, and called No TV Left Behind. I asked the woman on the other end of the phone what was the name of the TV in the trash heap. She told me that out of loyalty for her former owner, the TV had asked to be named ‘Amy’. Would I be willing to donate 27 cents a day to keep ‘Amy’ out of the rain, and away from rats?
Right then I knew I could do better. I told the woman that I would adopt Amy’s abandoned TV outright. When the woman heard my offer she yelled to her coworkers about the good news, and I heard cheers coming from the other No TV Left Behind phone operators.
As the warmth of the phone operators love sank in to me I knew I’d done the right thing. ‘Amy’ was now my 58th TV!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
No More Shark Alerts!
!!Beerboy1 Calling BeerboyMothership, Come In Mothership!!
No More Shark Alerts!
“California is sinking into the ocean!”---I know you beergirls and beerboys out there have heard that dire prediction over the years. This prediction of calamity had been coming from earthquake prophets—until the last few years. Then these predictions became metaphorical, with predictions that ‘financially’ California would ‘fall into the ocean’ and be lost forever. Guess what, though? It looks like the ocean will actually save California from ‘financially falling into the ocean’.
The solution? Well, it has to do with protecting an endangered species—in exchange for 5-6 billion a year in new tax revenues! The deal came about through wheeling and dealing by politicians.
You want the details, do you? Well, the details might be alarming to some folks, so first lets do some more background discussion, before we flesh out this endangered species debate here.
So, let’s get back to the fact this political deal making will bring in absolutely billions and billions of dollars (that’s US dollars) to the California economy. This means that California will not have to decide between fiscal responsibility and axing aid to the California Democrat party’s long list of welfare recipients. As an example, it means that San Francisco can be allowed to remain part of California, and not have to physically be cut free and cast adrift like an iceberg, to fend financially for itself.
And, okay, this might mean that we conservatives will have to give a little. Give a little on something that would normally make us cringe. That’s why I’ve been building up gently to the specifics on this deal making.
And this deal was conceived by Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, a geniune Republican.
The main problem Arnold and California have had in trying to reach a balanced budget was trying to keep the environmental fringe, the eco-wackos, happy. There were plenty of ways to balance the budget if the eco-wackos would just play ball. A prime example of this was increasing oil production off the California coast. The eco-wackos had fought savagely to stop this. And what a shame, because the extra tax monies from this oil production increase could pay for all of California’s naughty financial excesses. Was there a way out of this predicament?
So, okay, dear reader, you keep wanting ‘details’about this endangered species stuff, please be patient—first I want to describe the benefits from Arnold’s brainstorm, that led to this deal that has saved California. What is it that Arnold cooked up to convince the eco-wackos it would be okay to let off shore oil drilling go on off California?
Well, here’s what. What Arnold came up with will give complete ‘cradle to grave’ care for all aliens in California, both aliens born on Earth and off-planet. The off-planet inclusion is important, because how else can the insanity of San Francisco be explained except as having originated in another time-galaxy?
Okay, I just heard a complaint about my calling Arnold a ‘genuine Republican’. Look, folks, do you really think a man as sharp as Arnold didn’t understand how crazy Maria Shriver was? Did he really not understand how crazy a woman she was, as demonstrated during her fawning interview of Siegfried and Roy? Of course not—Arnold married her because of how crazy she was. He wanted to live in close proximity to such a crazy lefty, to learn how they really think.
And this is what Arnold dreamed up, one night not long ago, after his eco-wacko wife had gone to bed, and Arnold was left with his cigars and brandy. Let me give you a hint about what Arnold thought up while staring at that cigar smoke:
“All of Northern California will be converted into a sanctuary for endangered strains of cannabis, and San Francisco high class culinary chefs. Disney will take over the day-to-day operations of Northern California.”
This wasn’t the end, however. As Arnold sat in his den, the cigar smoke dissipating from fully formed clouds into haze, the rest of his plan mentally materialized.
“Mt. Shasta would be declared a sanctuary for that highly endangered bird, the NBC Peacock. Pixar would be given the job of maintaining this sanctuary.”
Arnold knew all this, however, wasn’t quite enough to satisfy the eco-wackos. He crept up to the bedroom, and watched Maria as she slept. What else would make her kind happy, Arnold wondered? He blew cigar smoke over her face, and watched her nose twitch. Then it struck him, yes, he had the answer, but, boy would it make his fellow extreme right wing Republicans mad!
What was this issue? Okay, now I’ll discuss it. It’s this final issue that I knew you conservatives would find most objectionable---Shark alerts along the California coast will be banned!
That’s right, as of yesterday when Arnold signed into law the Oil Money For Sharks And All The Other Stuff The Eco-Wackos Want bill, there will no longer be any shark alerts for California coastal communities. Why?
It turns out that a major food supply for the endangered sharks are human swimmers and surfers. When the news media warn people of sharks in a coastal area this was keeping people out of the ocean. And keeping people out of the ocean was keeping food out of the water--food for sharks.
As Arnold has discovered from hanging out at eco-wacko parties thrown by his wife’s friends, this Food For Sharks issue was so important to the eco-wackos that if the shark alerts were stopped, the eco-wackos would stop their opposition to more off-shore oil drilling.
So, now that the Oil Money For Sharks And All The Other Stuff The Eco-Wackos Want bill has been signed, and off-shore oil drilling can boom unchecked, California is financially solvent! But, is everyone happy? NO! Those right wing nuts, Ann Coulter and Rush Limbaugh, immediately jumped in and opened their big mouths! “No more shark alerts!?!”, blurted out Coulter and Limbaugh, today through their various media outlets, “What do you mean no more shark alerts?”
So, will Coulter and Limbaugh screw up this solution to all of California’s money troubles? We, here at this blog hope not. But, we’ll have to wait and see!
No More Shark Alerts!
“California is sinking into the ocean!”---I know you beergirls and beerboys out there have heard that dire prediction over the years. This prediction of calamity had been coming from earthquake prophets—until the last few years. Then these predictions became metaphorical, with predictions that ‘financially’ California would ‘fall into the ocean’ and be lost forever. Guess what, though? It looks like the ocean will actually save California from ‘financially falling into the ocean’.
The solution? Well, it has to do with protecting an endangered species—in exchange for 5-6 billion a year in new tax revenues! The deal came about through wheeling and dealing by politicians.
You want the details, do you? Well, the details might be alarming to some folks, so first lets do some more background discussion, before we flesh out this endangered species debate here.
So, let’s get back to the fact this political deal making will bring in absolutely billions and billions of dollars (that’s US dollars) to the California economy. This means that California will not have to decide between fiscal responsibility and axing aid to the California Democrat party’s long list of welfare recipients. As an example, it means that San Francisco can be allowed to remain part of California, and not have to physically be cut free and cast adrift like an iceberg, to fend financially for itself.
And, okay, this might mean that we conservatives will have to give a little. Give a little on something that would normally make us cringe. That’s why I’ve been building up gently to the specifics on this deal making.
And this deal was conceived by Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, a geniune Republican.
The main problem Arnold and California have had in trying to reach a balanced budget was trying to keep the environmental fringe, the eco-wackos, happy. There were plenty of ways to balance the budget if the eco-wackos would just play ball. A prime example of this was increasing oil production off the California coast. The eco-wackos had fought savagely to stop this. And what a shame, because the extra tax monies from this oil production increase could pay for all of California’s naughty financial excesses. Was there a way out of this predicament?
So, okay, dear reader, you keep wanting ‘details’about this endangered species stuff, please be patient—first I want to describe the benefits from Arnold’s brainstorm, that led to this deal that has saved California. What is it that Arnold cooked up to convince the eco-wackos it would be okay to let off shore oil drilling go on off California?
Well, here’s what. What Arnold came up with will give complete ‘cradle to grave’ care for all aliens in California, both aliens born on Earth and off-planet. The off-planet inclusion is important, because how else can the insanity of San Francisco be explained except as having originated in another time-galaxy?
Okay, I just heard a complaint about my calling Arnold a ‘genuine Republican’. Look, folks, do you really think a man as sharp as Arnold didn’t understand how crazy Maria Shriver was? Did he really not understand how crazy a woman she was, as demonstrated during her fawning interview of Siegfried and Roy? Of course not—Arnold married her because of how crazy she was. He wanted to live in close proximity to such a crazy lefty, to learn how they really think.
And this is what Arnold dreamed up, one night not long ago, after his eco-wacko wife had gone to bed, and Arnold was left with his cigars and brandy. Let me give you a hint about what Arnold thought up while staring at that cigar smoke:
“All of Northern California will be converted into a sanctuary for endangered strains of cannabis, and San Francisco high class culinary chefs. Disney will take over the day-to-day operations of Northern California.”
This wasn’t the end, however. As Arnold sat in his den, the cigar smoke dissipating from fully formed clouds into haze, the rest of his plan mentally materialized.
“Mt. Shasta would be declared a sanctuary for that highly endangered bird, the NBC Peacock. Pixar would be given the job of maintaining this sanctuary.”
Arnold knew all this, however, wasn’t quite enough to satisfy the eco-wackos. He crept up to the bedroom, and watched Maria as she slept. What else would make her kind happy, Arnold wondered? He blew cigar smoke over her face, and watched her nose twitch. Then it struck him, yes, he had the answer, but, boy would it make his fellow extreme right wing Republicans mad!
What was this issue? Okay, now I’ll discuss it. It’s this final issue that I knew you conservatives would find most objectionable---Shark alerts along the California coast will be banned!
That’s right, as of yesterday when Arnold signed into law the Oil Money For Sharks And All The Other Stuff The Eco-Wackos Want bill, there will no longer be any shark alerts for California coastal communities. Why?
It turns out that a major food supply for the endangered sharks are human swimmers and surfers. When the news media warn people of sharks in a coastal area this was keeping people out of the ocean. And keeping people out of the ocean was keeping food out of the water--food for sharks.
As Arnold has discovered from hanging out at eco-wacko parties thrown by his wife’s friends, this Food For Sharks issue was so important to the eco-wackos that if the shark alerts were stopped, the eco-wackos would stop their opposition to more off-shore oil drilling.
So, now that the Oil Money For Sharks And All The Other Stuff The Eco-Wackos Want bill has been signed, and off-shore oil drilling can boom unchecked, California is financially solvent! But, is everyone happy? NO! Those right wing nuts, Ann Coulter and Rush Limbaugh, immediately jumped in and opened their big mouths! “No more shark alerts!?!”, blurted out Coulter and Limbaugh, today through their various media outlets, “What do you mean no more shark alerts?”
So, will Coulter and Limbaugh screw up this solution to all of California’s money troubles? We, here at this blog hope not. But, we’ll have to wait and see!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Hollywood Aliens
Beerboy1 Calling BeerboyMothership, Come In Mothership!!
Greetings Earthlings!! I’m up on the spaceship again, being ‘abducted’ by the friendly red-haired Republican alien women! The space babes picked me up on their way home to their underground base under Mt. St. Helens. They had been down in Hollywood, called to an emergency Association of Motion Pictures meeting.
One of the onboard kegs just went dry. So, while the space babes are loading another keg, I’ve got time to post. I’m using one of their computers, so I can transmit to Earth.
Yes, the space aliens have been part of the Hollywood community since the mid 1950’s. This came about after signing a contract for use of alien identities and properties with the Association of Motion Pictures—it turns out the aliens have lawyers, too.
After the well publicized Mt. Rainer and Roswell incidents Hollywood went nuts over the UFO thing making all those low budget movies. Well, even in outer space there are lawyers, lawyers with too much time on their hands, and expensive households to keep up.
Your average everyday Joe-Sixpack alien thought the ‘Things from Outer Space’ movies were great, and never thought how they could make money off them. But, those lawyers—no way!
So, the lawyers approached the United Nations and, guess what, they found out the UN had crooked lawyers, too! So the crooked UN lawyers and the crooked alien lawyers hatched a plan. They got the aliens classified as a non-voting, off-world ethnic block. Then the aliens approached the Hollywood elites, this was during the McCarthy Communist-Under-Every-Hollywood-Rock Scare. The aliens offered to derail McCarthy in exchange for getting a royalty from every movie using an alien theme. Ever wonder why McCarthy’s attack fell apart so fast and hard? It was because of alien sabotage!
You know how every Alaskan citizen gets money from the oil government? Well, that’s how it works for aliens, but it’s with money coming from the movies. As part of the contract aliens have to limit their contact with Earthlings. Hollywood wants to control the exposure Earth gets to aliens.
And that brings us back to why the space babes were in Hollywood before they picked me up. They had been asked to come down and vote on a proposed Obama plan. After the major disappointment of the new Johnny Depp movie, Public Enemies, the Obama people figured out they had to bailout out the movie industry. As part of the bailout it was suggested that every movie script had to be approved by Pixar. Pixar never makes a movie with an underdeveloped storyline. So, now, even directors like Michael Mann and Woody Allen will have to get their scripts approved by Pixar before they can get funding. Actually Woody Allen has been using alien script consultants for years.
The space babes just got the new keg going, so I’m going to have to stop. See you later!
Greetings Earthlings!! I’m up on the spaceship again, being ‘abducted’ by the friendly red-haired Republican alien women! The space babes picked me up on their way home to their underground base under Mt. St. Helens. They had been down in Hollywood, called to an emergency Association of Motion Pictures meeting.
One of the onboard kegs just went dry. So, while the space babes are loading another keg, I’ve got time to post. I’m using one of their computers, so I can transmit to Earth.
Yes, the space aliens have been part of the Hollywood community since the mid 1950’s. This came about after signing a contract for use of alien identities and properties with the Association of Motion Pictures—it turns out the aliens have lawyers, too.
After the well publicized Mt. Rainer and Roswell incidents Hollywood went nuts over the UFO thing making all those low budget movies. Well, even in outer space there are lawyers, lawyers with too much time on their hands, and expensive households to keep up.
Your average everyday Joe-Sixpack alien thought the ‘Things from Outer Space’ movies were great, and never thought how they could make money off them. But, those lawyers—no way!
So, the lawyers approached the United Nations and, guess what, they found out the UN had crooked lawyers, too! So the crooked UN lawyers and the crooked alien lawyers hatched a plan. They got the aliens classified as a non-voting, off-world ethnic block. Then the aliens approached the Hollywood elites, this was during the McCarthy Communist-Under-Every-Hollywood-Rock Scare. The aliens offered to derail McCarthy in exchange for getting a royalty from every movie using an alien theme. Ever wonder why McCarthy’s attack fell apart so fast and hard? It was because of alien sabotage!
You know how every Alaskan citizen gets money from the oil government? Well, that’s how it works for aliens, but it’s with money coming from the movies. As part of the contract aliens have to limit their contact with Earthlings. Hollywood wants to control the exposure Earth gets to aliens.
And that brings us back to why the space babes were in Hollywood before they picked me up. They had been asked to come down and vote on a proposed Obama plan. After the major disappointment of the new Johnny Depp movie, Public Enemies, the Obama people figured out they had to bailout out the movie industry. As part of the bailout it was suggested that every movie script had to be approved by Pixar. Pixar never makes a movie with an underdeveloped storyline. So, now, even directors like Michael Mann and Woody Allen will have to get their scripts approved by Pixar before they can get funding. Actually Woody Allen has been using alien script consultants for years.
The space babes just got the new keg going, so I’m going to have to stop. See you later!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Alien Beer Bar
!!Beerboy1 Calling BeerboyMothership, Come in Mothership!!
Excuse me for the break in blog postings—I was accidently abducted by aliens!....Well, okay, maybe the abduction can’t really be called an accident. I guess that anyone who visits Troutlake, Washington to view their nightly UFO light shows can’t be surprised if they get abducted, can’t claim abduction was an ‘accident’.
It’s just that I thought I had the abduction/ not being able to post thing figured out. You see, my lap top has a wireless connection, so I thought that even on a spaceship that I’d be able to connect to my website and make a posting. That didn’t work out! Turns out that once you get several hundred miles off-planet that the ‘bars’ on your wireless connection disappear!
So, I’m back, and I suppose now you want details about my time being abducted and off with the aliens. Well, I hate to disappoint you all, but I don’t remember much. No, it’s not that the aliens used some super-hi tech stuff to erase my memory. Actually it has to do with the quite well stocked bar the aliens had on their ship.
Did I say bar? I should have said beer bar. It turns out that it is no accident that most UFO sightings in the USA are over the NW part. That includes the first major UFO sighting in the modern USA—that isn’t Roswell, but in Washington state, near Mt. Rainer. That incident birthed the term ‘flying saucer’. And what drew the ‘flying saucers’ to the Pacific NW? It turns out it was the local beer!
I do remember when I first landed on the UFO. On the landing dock was a giant glowing blue light. A loud speaker beneath the blue light announced that the mid-afternoon blue light special in the bar had begun.
There was no one in sight at the landing, just me and my lap top. I could, however, hear lots of humanoid noise and party sounds coming from down the hall. I made way toward the noises, and found the shipboard beer bar. The aliens were just getting finished stocking with local NW beer they had teleported onboard.
The alien bouncer at the door asked me, “Earthling, are you a registered Democrat or Republican?” Upon hearing a human was in their midst, all the other aliens turned their attention to me. I could see that some of the aliens had quietly moved their hands to the handles of their death rays. I sensed this was a sensitive moment in my life. How should I answer? I looked around for clues.
I got my answer by looking over the bar counter. Behind the bar were pics of 3 famous Earth politicians: Stalin, Jimmy Carter and Richard Nixon. The pics of Stalin and Carter were grouped together engulfed in a circle. The heading over the Stalin-Carter pic said ‘Welcome to Georgia’s 2 most famous politicians—Stalin and Jimmy Carter!’ Apparently Stalin and Carter had both been on this ship before me. But, were they both from Georgia? Then I remembered, oh yeah, Stalin had been born in that country the Soviets took over, that country called ‘Georgia’. Apparently the aliens had gotten the old Soviet bloc country and the USA southern state confused.
Anyway I noticed that this Stalin-Carter pic group had been turned into a dart board. And the Nixon pic? The alien artists had surrounded the pic with old Catholic religious art. So, I took a chance and guessed the aliens on this ship leaned toward the Republicans, and answered “Republican!”, flashing my best Richard Nixon ‘V’ for victory sign.
And that’s where my memory gets fuzzy. The aliens all responded by flashing me back with ‘V’ for victory signs, and the free micro brew pitchers started materializing before me. I vaguely remember having a really good time, and being told not worry about driving home, because the aliens would transport me and my car back to my place.
The friendliest of the aliens were the ones with red hair. The red haired ones turned out to be female. It turns out that Gillian Anderson of the X-Files is worshipped and adored by all alien women. In honor of Gillian the alien women all dye their hair red. I learned that off-world sales of X-Files DVD’s are far greater than the on-world sales.
Anyway, the Republican, red-haired alien women have invited me to a party next week. I don’t know when or where. The space babes said they’d abduct me once the party was all planned. I’ll try my best to stay somewhat sober and give more details about the alien ship other than the bar. Stay tuned!!
Excuse me for the break in blog postings—I was accidently abducted by aliens!....Well, okay, maybe the abduction can’t really be called an accident. I guess that anyone who visits Troutlake, Washington to view their nightly UFO light shows can’t be surprised if they get abducted, can’t claim abduction was an ‘accident’.
It’s just that I thought I had the abduction/ not being able to post thing figured out. You see, my lap top has a wireless connection, so I thought that even on a spaceship that I’d be able to connect to my website and make a posting. That didn’t work out! Turns out that once you get several hundred miles off-planet that the ‘bars’ on your wireless connection disappear!
So, I’m back, and I suppose now you want details about my time being abducted and off with the aliens. Well, I hate to disappoint you all, but I don’t remember much. No, it’s not that the aliens used some super-hi tech stuff to erase my memory. Actually it has to do with the quite well stocked bar the aliens had on their ship.
Did I say bar? I should have said beer bar. It turns out that it is no accident that most UFO sightings in the USA are over the NW part. That includes the first major UFO sighting in the modern USA—that isn’t Roswell, but in Washington state, near Mt. Rainer. That incident birthed the term ‘flying saucer’. And what drew the ‘flying saucers’ to the Pacific NW? It turns out it was the local beer!
I do remember when I first landed on the UFO. On the landing dock was a giant glowing blue light. A loud speaker beneath the blue light announced that the mid-afternoon blue light special in the bar had begun.
There was no one in sight at the landing, just me and my lap top. I could, however, hear lots of humanoid noise and party sounds coming from down the hall. I made way toward the noises, and found the shipboard beer bar. The aliens were just getting finished stocking with local NW beer they had teleported onboard.
The alien bouncer at the door asked me, “Earthling, are you a registered Democrat or Republican?” Upon hearing a human was in their midst, all the other aliens turned their attention to me. I could see that some of the aliens had quietly moved their hands to the handles of their death rays. I sensed this was a sensitive moment in my life. How should I answer? I looked around for clues.
I got my answer by looking over the bar counter. Behind the bar were pics of 3 famous Earth politicians: Stalin, Jimmy Carter and Richard Nixon. The pics of Stalin and Carter were grouped together engulfed in a circle. The heading over the Stalin-Carter pic said ‘Welcome to Georgia’s 2 most famous politicians—Stalin and Jimmy Carter!’ Apparently Stalin and Carter had both been on this ship before me. But, were they both from Georgia? Then I remembered, oh yeah, Stalin had been born in that country the Soviets took over, that country called ‘Georgia’. Apparently the aliens had gotten the old Soviet bloc country and the USA southern state confused.
Anyway I noticed that this Stalin-Carter pic group had been turned into a dart board. And the Nixon pic? The alien artists had surrounded the pic with old Catholic religious art. So, I took a chance and guessed the aliens on this ship leaned toward the Republicans, and answered “Republican!”, flashing my best Richard Nixon ‘V’ for victory sign.
And that’s where my memory gets fuzzy. The aliens all responded by flashing me back with ‘V’ for victory signs, and the free micro brew pitchers started materializing before me. I vaguely remember having a really good time, and being told not worry about driving home, because the aliens would transport me and my car back to my place.
The friendliest of the aliens were the ones with red hair. The red haired ones turned out to be female. It turns out that Gillian Anderson of the X-Files is worshipped and adored by all alien women. In honor of Gillian the alien women all dye their hair red. I learned that off-world sales of X-Files DVD’s are far greater than the on-world sales.
Anyway, the Republican, red-haired alien women have invited me to a party next week. I don’t know when or where. The space babes said they’d abduct me once the party was all planned. I’ll try my best to stay somewhat sober and give more details about the alien ship other than the bar. Stay tuned!!
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