The Hits Keep Coming

I’m averaging 29 blog hits per day this week. I wasn’t even this popular in high school.

I went for a swim at the club last night. It was a tad chilly out there but nothing that would bother a robust individual like me. After my swim I did two legs of the tribathalon, taking a soak in the hot tub and a quick steam. As I entered the locker room, I saw a gentleman staring at the machine that extracts water from bathing suits. As I began to remove my Speedo, he remained there. I became somewhat uncomfortable. He watched me dry my suit. He then questioned me, in his heavily accented English, whether it was the “centrifugal action” that dried the suit. I said that was indeed the case. He double checked and I affirmed that he was correct. That seemed to satisfy his curiosity and he walked away. Maybe I should start swimming in the morning.

Yearning to Blog Free

Based on the input of a very wise man by the name of Jimmy The Wig, I have broken free from the yoke of expectations that I have been harnessed to for the last few weeks. I will blog only when I am ready, not a moment sooner. As The Wig says, “They didn’t tell Picasso to paint faster, did they?” I also appreciate the recent comment from #2. He said that perhaps a guest blogger could “fill the content gaps they complain about”. Well put, #2!! I am seriously thinking about promoting you to #1.

I sent my recent post about my dinner with my swarthy siblings to my old man. Yeah, me and the old man are talking again. I’m sure my 9/24/06 post, wherein I detailed the litigation I was engaged in with the paterfamilias, is seared in your mind. But all is well now. I failed to mention that he had a clown as well as a bounce house sent to my house for my recent 50th birthday party. What a guy! He liked the blog I sent him but he made a reference to “potty humor”. What!! I was simply reporting the facts.

Since I’ve brought up that brother of mine, I might as well tell a little story about Sister Gloria’s Spanish class in high school. We sat next to each other and generally got along. However, one day something set us off. I can’t recall exactly what it was. It may have had to do with the conjugation of an irregular verb. We almost came to blows before Sister Gloria settled us down. It’s not widely known, but this little episode was the inspiration for the “quien es mas macho” skit on SNL.

Hey, Tahoe Larry, you still out there?

Don’t Taze Me, Bro

Wasn’t that dipshit resisting arrest? Not that he should have been tasered, but he doesn’t seem to be a model citizen.

He’s had his 15 minutes of fame; on to more important things. I’m in a bit of a funk because my favorite newscaster, Keith Olbermann, is out this week due to an emergency appendectomy. Alison Stewart is a lovely and intelligent individual, but it’s not the same. Get well Keith!

In other developments, I was at work today, thinking about puppy dogs and butterflies…

Gimme More

How dare all you people demand more blog activity? I’m going through a tough time now. I have to work 20 to 30 hours a week and I’m married with three kids. This blog is called “Gimme More” for a reason. All you people ever want is more, more, more. I’m a human! Leave DJ alone!

OK, I shouldn’t make fun of Crocker, either Chris or Ambassador. They both clearly have their head up their ass. As we speak, I’m negotiating with The Emmys people. I’m trying to get a couple minutes on air to apologize for my lousy blog. Barring that, you’ll hear from me again Wednesday, unless there is an event in the interim that I can rhapsodize about, such as a Bush Cheney resignation duet.

Blocked Blog Boy

The intense pressure I am getting from #1 and The Exec to post is getting to me. This is why I didn’t go into academia. The specter of “publish or perish” was too much. That combined with the fact that I wasn’t a particularly bright young man sealed the deal. The role of bandwidth bureaucrat is a better fit.

I sat down at the computer last night with a glass of the DJ house wine, Marietta Cellars Old Vine Red Lot Number Forty Three. This wine fits my needs perfectly, with hints of boysenberry and parsimony. I had wrapped up another tough week in the corporate salt mines and I was following a long literary tradition of seeking a muse in a bottle, without luck.

Right now I have KFOG cranked up, with its week’s worth of 10 at 10, and I’m raring to go. I see that I have disappointed Tahoe Larry with my lack of blogging this week. So this one’s for you Tahoe Larry, whoever the hell you are. TH stated his concerns in an appropriate manner, for which I am grateful. That is not always the case. For instance, there was the comment on my 8/27 blog from one P.T. Boi. Mr. Boi had the audacity to turn my humorous “Ceviche Man” reference into a mean spirited dig about me being a Cro-Magnon man. I checked my statcounter and it appears that comment originated in Massachusetts. It must have come from one of what my friend The Wolverine refers to as “Massholes”

Its time to wrap this one up but I’m making a commitment here and now to have another post up by tomorrow COB. Close of business is usually around 9pm, which is my bedtime. Right now I’m running out to Starbucks to pick up a Pumpkin Spice Frappuccino.

Ciao Fredo

I’m a little behind on the news. On my next post, it is my intent to bust the chops of Senator Craig, but presently I’ll save my scorn for the executive branch. Recently we got word that Alberto Gonzalez was moving on. It’s clear I ain’t much of prognosticator. In my 5/16 blog, I said he’d ride off into the sunset by mid-June. I was a few months off. The good news is that he’s gone. The bad news will be next sycophantic chucklehead the Prez decides to foist upon us.

The rats are jumping from the ship. I think Alberto may have been nudged so W could do a little legacy repair. I’d say forget it. His legacy is like a ’72 Vega with four bad tires that’s parked outside the White House, and it’s just been rear-ended by a speeding SUV. Face it George, it’s totaled. He hasn’t been helping himself with any of his speeches, like the one he gave to the VFW last month. I printed it, went to the medicine chest for a container of Tums, and toughed it out for all seven pages. As usual, it contained carefully crafted kernels of crap.

It is difficult to fathom that this man was a history major at Yale. He’s making comparisons between Iraq and Vietnam, intimating we should have stayed in Vietnam. I think he might have become a revisionist right quick if he realized that prolonging that endeavor might have taken sending the Texas Air National Guard to Southeast Asia. The man does not get it. History will record the cinematic sweep of his recalcitrance and duplicity. He’s put this country in a hole that will take decades to dig out of. The rest of the government needs to stand up on this war and say enough is enough.

Friends

Real ones, not the perky and hyper-witty TV kind. Not that mine aren’t that way, at least once in a while. We got back from China Camp in Marin on Labor Day after a few days camping with our fellow villagers. These folks are quite a crew and we are lucky to have them as a regular part of our lives. I know you're looking for the punch line but there won't be one, at least in this paragraph. I've been blessed throughout this life with great friends all along the journey. Most, if not all of them, have made appearances here for the last year and a half. A common trait is the ability to take a joke, but there is a hell of a lot more to it than that. They've seen me through some tough times. I'm a lucky guy.

If you're looking for the usual snark, it hasn't gone away. It's just resting.