Monthly Archives: June 2009

Love Advice From A Car Mechanic

Dear Mr. Mechanic,

I’m tired of going out with self-absorbed jerks. What happened to all the great guys that used to hang out together and work on their cars? I dated a guy in high school who was cute, funny and always smelled slightly of gasoline. I loved him and found the smell very sexy. He and his friends were fun to be with and didn’t take things too seriously. Where do I find those those type of guys today?

–Looking In The Wrong Places

Dear Looking,

Cheer up, darlin’. Those guys are still out there. There is just one problem — they are all sixty years old. If you don’t mind dating a guy who thinks Green Day is when they close the golf course for lawn maintenance, you are set. No, honestly here is what you do. You look up on The Google where the nearest race track is. Go there on a Saturday, sit in the stands and be sure to dress a little tacky. You know what I’m sayin’? Skin tight dress, big earrings, red lipstick. Guys are simple beings and you need to get their attention.  Between heats (races) wander down to the pits (where they work on the cars) and act interested in what is going on. You don’t have to know jack about cars, just act interested. If you don’t get at least three date offers from nice guys before the last race is over, call me. In fact, just skip the track and call me.

–Mr. Mechanic

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Today’s Poem

THE BOSS
(Tune: Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow, author unknown
From the Industrial Workers of the World Songbook)

Praise boss when morning work-bells chime.
Praise him for bits of overtime.
Praise him whose wars we love to fight.
Praise him, fat leech and parasite.

Today In History

On June 28, 767, St. Paul I ended his reign as Catholic pope. “I just want to slow down, maybe open a gelato store. Being pope isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The robes are itchy, my bunions hurt and that Archdeacon Theophylact, what a pain, ” he said.

Today’s Obscure Government Acronyms

We note that the US government is the all-time champion when it comes to creating acronyms.

Here are just a few of the acronyms in use by the US Government:

Federal Interagency Committee for the Management of Noxious and Exotic Weeds (FICMNEW)

National Center for Zoonotic, Vector-Borne, and Enteric Diseases (NCZVED)

Office of the National Counterintelligence Executive (ONCIX)

We also note that there are a few acronyms missing from the official government list. So in the interest of public awareness, we offer the acronyms for some of the more obscure government agencies:

Council on Civic Crime In Xanadu (COCCIX)

Aviation Reconnaissance Mapping of Plant Infestation Territories (ARMPIT)

Secretaries Office for Underwater Nostalgia – Division of Asset Services, Liason, Enforcement, and Entertainment Planning (SOUNDASLEEP)

Today’s Fifty Word Mini-Saga

The Bedside

The king lay dying. He sent for his son who came and knelt at the old man’s bedside.

“There is something you must know,” said the King. “I am not your father. I killed your father by accident in battle. “

“I know,” said the boy, drawing his bone-handle hunting knife.

A Tribute to Jichael Mackson

The ping of cop is dead. Our once hung and prance some yince is no more. Today in Wallyhood the bone lines are fizzy. It was array of doomers.  Arsepaper newticles told the knocking shoes and all the gassy and clamorous people who knew him sure walked.

Yack in my booth I was a fan of Jichael Mackson. I would scum home from cool, flip on the TV and chew through the flannels until I sound him finging.   I never believed he was salving hex with those boys. Adherances can be perceptive. He would never throws a pet to them. Jichael was religious and a lit of a boner.  He just wanted to lay a proud with them. But the long arm of the straw wanted him gowned and bagged. They wanted to damp clown on him. He was kicked up by the pops, taken in in their quad scars and held until he would tart stocking. But Jichael vowed to bite to the fitter bend. Thank God the barges were chaseless and eventually he was gowned filthy.

At fifty, Jichael was canning a plum back. He was towing on gur, going out to feet his mans once more. Until yesterday when they found him fled on door. So today we say a bad good sigh to the ping of cop. Jichael, we will always fee your bans. You were a drawn beamer and your star will brine shite in the heavens.

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Today’s Epigram

“It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.”

–Edgar Allen Poe