Aw Heck. How about that.

Did you know:

A.  That the words “race car” spelled backwards still spells  ”race car”?

B.  That “eat” is the only word that if you take the 1st letter and move
it to the last, it spells its past tense “ate”?

C.  And have you noticed that if you rearrange the letters in “illegal
immigrants” and add just a few more letters, it spells out: “Go home you
free-loading, benefit-grabbing, kid-producing, violent, non-English
speaking assholes and take those other hairy-faced, sandal-wearing,
bomb-making, goat-loving, raggedy-ass bastards with you”?

How weird is that  ???

I usually don’t pass along these “add your name” lists that appear in my
email, but this one is too important. This one has been circulating for months. Please, keep it going!

To show YOUR SUPPORT for Obama’s health care reform, please go the end of the list and add your name to the rapidly growing list below and send it on to your entire e-mail list.

1. Nancy Pelosi

2. Joe Biden

Ted Kennedy has been 4 weeks sober!!!!

 

 

 

     I’ve been laughing hysterically at the rage, hate, attacks, smear tactics and raw disdain coming from the left wing blogs about Sarah Palin.  You don’t know what to do with her, do you?  Try as hard as you can, you still can’t put a dent in her amour.  She’s too tough for you.  She has class.  She’s a “lady.”  Something the “progressives” are not too familiar with. 

     The feminists are about to explode.  I can see them now.  Tears.  Fist clinching. Fingernail marks in their palms.  I bet you couldn’t scrape up 6 ounces of tooth enamel from the entire  board of directors of N.O.W. from them grinding their teeth so far down that they’re now only fangs.

      How dare she?  How dare she be a babe?  Why, she looks like a female anchor on the Fox News Network.  How dare she refuse to not murder her baby when she found out he had Down’s syndrome?  Damn her!  She is a member of the NRA and hunts!!!!  OMG!!!!!  I cannot wait til McCain’s elected and liberals gather on the steps of the Capitol, sing one verse of Kum-Ba-Yah and commit mass suicide.

 

Hurry Up and Get this done. Dang it.

Are you contemplating voting for Obama or Clinton?  Why?  What is the “Change we can believe in?” I watch and listen to a lot of national news and I’ve never heard him come right out and say what “specific” changes he is going to make, how and why?

     Why should I be looking forward to or be willing to pay for your insurance or health care?  Your children’s health care?  I’m paying for insurance for my own children’s healthcare.  I’ll help, but you have an obligation to get up off your butt and provide for yourself.  If you are unable to, that’s one thing.  If you are as healthy or healthier that I am, you have no business being a parasite or a leech, taking any of my paycheck.  Why am I responsible for you?    Get a job.  If you can’t get a good job because you don’t have an education, get an education.  By yourself.  I don’t want to pay for it.  Any of it. 

     Before you giggle, become aroused and holler “Hot Diggity!” at the prospect of the “big oil companies” paying their fair share of taxes, stop and think about where they get their revenue.  It is supplied by you and me when we purchase gasoline and oil products?  And, in case you didn’t know, for every dollar we pay for gas, the US government gets 20 cents and the oil companies get 8 cents of it. 

     If you are illegal, go back to Mexico.  You don’t belong here.  Emigrate legally.  If you’re not satisfied with the living conditions in Mexico, get together with your fellow countrymen and change it. You don’t deserve a driver’s license, social security benefits or government assistance in or from the United States.

 

     As a citizen and voter I have some demands.  Not requests, demands. 

• Build the fence separating the US and Mexico
• Prosecute employers who hire illegal aliens and seize their assets
• No voting without a photo ID
• No voting by dead people and no voting more than once per election
• Make the penal system self sufficient and outlaw plea bargaining
• Drill Alaska, and tell Venezuela and tell OPEC to go to hell
• Cut my damn taxes
• Implement the “Fair Tax.”
• Execute people on death row
• Repeal Roe vs Wade

 

     I’m not happy with the prospect of John McCain, but, he sure beats the hell out of the alternative.

Death comes Calling

He sat at the head of the bed.  Waiting.  Simply waiting.  He didn’t know how long he had been there.  Time had no meaning.  The click-whoosh sound of the respirator came in intervals of 20 cycles a minute.  Every minute.  The lungs that had expanded and deflated on their own for 83 years were now dependent on the whim of the medical personnel and the insurance company.  He gazed longingly at the “on/off” switch that would cut the power of the machine and wished that he had an actual body so he could flip it and turn it off.  He had tried numerous times to shove people into it and destroy the mechanical trap that kept him from departing this cursed room.  But, he couldn’t make contact.  His hands and arms passed thru their bodies with no resistance.  He tried to move the wires and cables snaking all over the floor onto the top of their shoes so they would “accidentally” unplug it when they walked away from his prison, but he couldn’t move them without fingers. “Where are you, my friend?”  Please hurry. 

 

     Death stood in the doorway of the recessed building on Mackinaw Street in New York City.  The rain cascaded in sheets as the people scurried up and down the block in waves of ebb and flow.  Downcast eyes of hundreds of people dodging puddles to try to keep their dark clothes dry as possible.  The stink of the city hung on and refused to be washed away. 

 

“Ah, here comes my appointment,” Death said to himself as the young man approached.  His right hand was inside his coat, caressing the handle of a gun that he would point at his next mark.  He chuckled, thinking about how easy it was to “take off” the pitiful fools that existed to supply him with money for his drugs and whores. They’d better not screw with him.  He was not to be denied. “They can either give it up easy, or I’ll plug em’ right between the eyes” he thought as he shopped around for the next unwilling supplier of his nightly “high.” 

 

A half a block away, Hermano Miller, the driver of a cement truck for Simmons Construction Company, stepped on the accelerator as he saw the light change from green to amber.  He was running way too far behind.  He was cussing under his breath about being held up while some stupid kid in a wheelchair was loaded into a taxi.  Wherever the hell he was going, he should have taken the subway, the driver thought as he chewed on the cigar in his mouth.  “Now, I’ll have to hear the job foreman chew me out for being late, and that’s the last thing I need right now” he muttered to himself.

 

The street hoodlum saw an elderly woman picking her way thru the puddles on the sidewalk as she tried to not get her feet wet.  This was the only pair of shoes that she owned and they leaked terribly.  The cracks and sores on the bottoms of her feet hurt so much worse when she got them wet.  She clutched her purse to her breast and “tried” to hurry as she made her way thru the crowd on her way to the subway entrance.  She had six dollars and thirteen cents.  She was calculating whether or not that would allow her to buy a can of tuna for the scraggly old cat that had been haunting her windowsill for the past two days and still allow her to buy something for her to eat. 

 

The man stopped and backed up into the recess, to await the old woman.  He shifted the gun under his belt to make sure that the front sight didn’t get caught in his waistband as he whipped it out on the old hag coming down the street.  He wished she would hurry up.  He was going to take her purse and go fix.  He was beginning to feel the first bite of nausea gnawing at his stomach lining that could only be delayed by the needle filled with sweet release.  He could not see Death, who had not chosen to reveal himself standing behind him.  Couldn’t she shuffle a little damn faster? 

 

When she finally got to him, he stepped out and down the three brownstone steps, grabbed her purse and shoved the barrel of the pistol into her ribs.  His stinking breath was rancid as he bared his teeth and “favored her” with the grin of the predator.  If she had been forty years younger, he might have drug her into the doorway and taken more that just her money.  His eyes twinkled as he enjoyed the look of shock and surprise that flashed across her face as she looked up at him. 

 

That was nothing compared to the look of shock and surprise on his own face as he felt cold bony fingers take hold of the back of his neck.  He turned his head and saw for just an instant, a leering grin more terrible than his own.  He was flung unceremoniously to the street and disappeared under the wheels of the cement truck.

 

Death laughed and savored the surge of pleasure he felt each time that someone recognized him and “gave up the ghost.”  He took on the guise of an average man as he paused and allowed the old woman to see him.  He picked up her purse from beside the mangled corpse of the recently departed.  He made eye contact with her as she reached toward him, thinking he was going to hand it back to her.  He tossed it to curb where it was caught in the swirling rain and washed down into the sewer system.  He smiled and vanished before her very eyes.   

Lottery Ignorance

The following is a letter to the editor that was not published concerning articles in the local paper about the unfairness of the poor buying lottery tickets. 

 

 Let me see if I correctly understand the message of the front page article of the News Sentinel on September 2, 2007 concerning the disparity of lottery scholarships.  The lines, “White and well off students overwhelmingly receive the bulk of college scholarships—.”  “Counties with more black and poor residents usually end up buying more of the very tickets used to fund the scholarships.”  “Lower income students often lose the scholarships due to low grades.” 

     Then, the next story chronicles the plight of the man in the brown fedora who laments the “unfairness” of not winning any money.  But, he keeps on buying tickets.   At the risk of incurring the wrath of every left winger in the area, I humbly ask, does anyone suppose it would be prudent to advise the poor students to study and work hard and “strive” to achieve and maintain a 3.0 gpa and not throw away their chance to get out of poverty and squalor?  Would it be prudent to advise the man in the brown fedora that generally speaking, “You don’t get something for nothing” and buying lottery tickets as opposed to food and medicine is asinine and ignorant?  Would it be too much to be honest enough to say to those who howl about the increased cigarette tax that they should quit and buy their kids food instead?  Smoking is stupid.  Of course that will never happen because it would stifle the opportunity to further the liberal agenda of controlling the masses by throwing them crumbs, tidbits and lies that they are not capable of doing things for themselves and it takes a village to raise their children.

      How many of you, who will cuss me up one side and down the other, for having the gall to point this out, voted for the lottery in the first place?   Well, before you get too worked up, I’d like to apologize. 

     I apologize for being white.  I don’t know why God did that, but it must be because he hates me.  I have no control over it and am truly sorry.

     I apologize for never having purchased a lottery ticket.  Every time I had an extra three bucks, I usually bought a Slim Jim and a Mountain Dew.  I’m sorry.  It was selfish of me and I have no excuse.

     Please cut me some slack for having the audacity to buy a full size sedan with eight cylinders.  I have no right whatsoever to purchase a vehicle that I have worked for and chosen on the merits of beauty, strength and because it shines up brighter than a brand new copper penny. 

     I apologize for working at the same company for the last 31 years.  I’ve never been fired or lost a job to addiction.  As far as I know, the government has never failed to rape my paycheck of Federal Witholding, Social Security, etc. and tossed some of my and some of your dollars with glee to those who can work, but will not work.  Don’t even get me started about illegal aliens.

     I apologize for not being delinquent on my taxes and for actually giving money to my church. (I would say I’m sorry for believing in Jesus, but I can’t do that even when being facetious.) 

     I apologize for having three children, none of which have been in jail, yet, and have never needed to be in rehab, analysis or foster care.  I’m also ashamed of them never being held back a grade, being molested or had their nasal septums pierced.  God help me. 

     I’m mortified and beg your forgiveness that I admire Joe Arpaio, Sheriff of Maricopa County Arizona and think he should be the Attorney General of the United States.

     Please forgive me for owning three guns and being fine with the prospect of killing anybody who breaks into my home at 3:00 a.m. to threaten the safety and wellbeing of my wife and children. 

     Oh well, with any luck, the Democrats will win the Presidency, retain the House and Senate and we can all link arms, sing a few choruses of Kum-ba-Yah and wait on the Taliban to come take over.

The BirthDay

     It’s May 9, 2005.  Yesterday was Mother’s Day.  My birthday is going to be today.  I just know it is.  Mama took me to the doctor’s office the other day and I heard the doctor say he’d do the procedure on Monday, May 9^th.  I didn’t hear him say his name, sometimes it’s kind of muffled here in the womb.  I did hear Mama say that the name of the place we were was called the “Women’s Clinic.”  It must be a nice place because they take care of women and their babies.  I wonder why the doctor called it “the procedure,” though.  I thought it was called “being born.” 

 

     My angel came and visited me yesterday.  He said that it wouldn’t be long before I would be leaving here.  He said that after the procedure, I would be going to the most beautiful place that anybody could ever imagine.  He said that I would be surrounded by total love and indescribable happiness.  I didn’t know that the world was really that beautiful.  I’ve been able to hear and understand things for awhile now and some of the things I’ve heard make me think the world is not all that nice of a place.

 

     I sure will be glad to get out of here.  Mama takes drugs and drinks something called alcohol.  It makes me feel sick.  When I get big enough to talk, I’m gonna tell her that Jesus doesn’t like it when she takes drugs.  She must not know that he died on the cross for her and he gets very sad when she does things like that.  It makes me sad too.  At night, when Mama is “partying” I hear a lot of men’s voices.  I wonder if one of them is my Daddy.  They’re not very nice.  They do things to Mama that I don’t understand. 

 

     I’m skinny.  I think I should be fatter.  Mama doesn’t eat much.  She says that when she’s high, she just doesn’t have any appetite.  When I get out of here, I’m going to eat at my Father’s Table.  I’m going to eat so much that I’ll be full for a week!  I don’t know who he is, but my angel does.  He’s the one that told me that.  My angel holds my hand.  Sometimes, like yesterday, his eyes are sad. Why?  How can he be sad?  I’m about to start on a wonderful adventure!  I want to grow up and help people.  Someday, maybe I’ll be a doctor too!

       Mama’s getting in the car now.  I guess we’re going to the Women’s Clinic so I can be born.  I’m so excited!  I wonder what she looks like. Can she possibly love me as much as I love her?  I can’t wait to put my arms around you Mama, and lay my head on your shoulder.  I’m looking forward so much to having you teach me to brush my hair.  To read the Bible, bake cookies and cherry pies.  I’m gonna get you to show me how to put on make up and we can both wear yellow dresses with big brightly colored bows.  I bet I’m gonna look like you, Mama.  Maybe people will think I’m your sister instead of your daughter.  Won’t that be funny? 

 

     Be careful driving Mama!  Are you wearing your seat belt?  I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially on my birthday.  I love you, Mama!  I’ll be coming out to meet you soon!  I’m gonna take such good care of you Mama.  I won’t let anybody hurt you like I hear them doing from here inside you.  Me and my angel will protect you.  I’ve got so much to tell you!  When I can talk, I’m gonna tell you about Jesus!  He loves you, Mama!  He loves you so much!   He loves you even more than I do.  That’s hard for me to understand, but that’s what my angel tells me. 

 

Well, we’re here.  Mama’s parking the car.  Why don’t we get out, Mama?  You’re just sitting there behind the wheel feeling kind of low.  It’s my birthday, Mama!  What are you going to name me?  Did you bring my car seat?  Where’s our relatives?  Where’s Ma-maw and Pa-paw?  Where’s daddy?  Who is daddy?  Does he love me too?

 

Here we go!  We’re out of the car, and we’re walking up the steps to the Women’s Clinic.

 

Wait a minute, Mama!  All of a sudden, I’m scared.  I don’t know why, but I’m scared!  Get back in the car, Mama!  Get back in the car!  We’ve got to get out of here!  I feel angels! Bad angels.  Not like my angel.  These are demon angels, Mama.  I think they want to hurt us.  Please Mama!  Get back in the car.  Quick!  We can go someplace else.  Take us to a church.  Jesus will be there.  He lives there.  He’ll help us Mama.  He loves us.

 

Mama, No!  Don’t let them take you into the procedure room!  Let’s leave, let’s go home.  I love you, Mama.  Why are we lying on this table?  Where are your clothes?  What’s that man doing?  Why is he putting on gloves?  Is he the doctor?  He’s supposed to take care of us. I can see his soul.  I’m scared of it, Mama!  It’s laughing at us and he smells like fire and burning flesh.  He doesn’t love us, Mama.  Please help me.

 

What’s that noise?  What’s that metal thing he has in his hand?  Make him go away, Mama, Make him leave us alone!  Where’s my angel?  Help! Mama! Help!  Oh Mama, he jabbed me with that metal thing, it hurts, help me, Mama, help———————–