My Buddies Behinds

March 7, 2008
  • Sitting at the wireless phone store yesterday, I did a double-take when the TV next to me-advertising some “buddy” program for cell phones-said, “don’t leave your buddies behind.” I just want all my buddies out there to know that I will never leave your behinds. Now, on with the link dump:
  • A California court orders homeschooled kids to class because the state needs to rescue kids from the emotionally stunted cloistering of their parents. And in other news, a California assistant principal has been arrested for kidnapping and raping a student. Glad to see they’ve got it all sorted out over there.
  • Now you can’t even eat the white snow.
  • I know a few ladies (and a few guys) who could claim this legal defense . . .
  • An idea whose time has so totally come. “I Park Like an Idiot” stickers. Fuggin’ brilliant.
  • A new study suggests sexy time should last between 7 to 13 minutes. Thirteen minutes?? Who am I? Bruce Jenner?
  • Speaking of sexy time, check out this nifty trick. Practical and entertaining.
  • Big Brother, I know you’re reading this. I want you to know that I’ve surrendered. I’ve pretty much lost faith in humanity. Not completely, though. It’s fair to say that there are two distinct classes emerging: those who want no responsibility over their own lives, those who have contempt for the most basic notions of courtesy and decency; and people like me, who give it their best, try to raise their kids right and treat others with respect and wish only to be left alone. I realize the latter group is too small to have much influence, so I am offering my services to you, Big Brother, in the surveillance and suppression of the former group. In exchange for you taking the boot off of my face, I will gladly man the camera monitors, listen to their phone calls, stage unannounced inspections and any other duties you might require. I’m ready to help. Please remember this when That Day comes.

I’m watching you.

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Nice Bum Where You From?

February 19, 2008
  • If your puppy carries home a scalp in his furry little maw, the best thing to do is take it door-to-door and see if anyone answers with a bloody dome and a very bad mood.
  • One of my favorite types of news stories: Young punks try to assault old man and get their asses shot instead.
  • I heard a commercial claiming that the best way to get a woman to take her clothes off is to give her a pajamagram. Is this true? If so, I know quite a few people who are going to be getting pajamagrams from me.
  • Some search engine terms that brought people here: chicken pox on buttocks; plump granma; doctor tushie; naked buttocks beating; bouncing butt; mermaid porn; horny mermaids; nice bum where you from; kid cutting man’s head off; dragon’s penis; fat butt pants say juicy; bouncing butt painting. If anyone has a video of the last one, I’d like to see it.
  • The other day, Mrs. Jimmy and I tried to impress upon our daughter the importance of not tying things around her neck. “You could die,” was the ultimate lesson. My daughter then informed me that I was not to do any harm to myself, because if I died, I might fall through the wall and break the house, then the cold air would get in, and when (Aunt) Cami and (cousin) Ashton visited, they might get cold. So you see, it is vitally important that I live so the relatives don’t get cold.
  • Another school shooting somewhere (you can fill in the blank as to location). However, I’m not taken in by this hoax. Schools are gun-free zones, so it’s impossible to be shot at school. Tell the news media to go peddle this lie somewhere else.
  • Our girls each got a disposable camera for Christmas, and yesterday I stood at the sink at some level of undress when I heard, “Smile, Dad!” along with hearing a click and seeing a flash. The girl at the photo lab is in for quite a surprise, I’d reckon.
  • Nebraska is considering abolishing the death penalty. Isn’t it interesting how laws protecting convicted murders work every time? While the innocent continue to suffer cruel and unusual punishment? Maybe we should all become criminals.

Don’t eat the yellow snow.


Ice Cream for Feet

January 31, 2008
    • From the “Kids Don’t Come With Instructions”department: I had to intervene in an argument between my 4-year-old daughters. The beef? One of them said, “Sissy took the ice cream away from my feet.” I responded with Churchillian eloquence: “I don’t want anyone stealing ice cream from feet!!!” That’ll teach ’em.
    • The other day I was in the bathtub when the doorbell rang. Expecting a package, I ran for the door, dripping wet, trying to get my bathrobe on. Upon returning to the tub, I noticed that on my way back I stepped into all of the wet footprints I’d left on my way to the front door. After I was dressed and walking around, I continued to step in the wet footprints. In other words, whether I’m going here or there, I step in the exact same place every time. If I live here long enough, I’ll have left divots in the floor where my feet always land.
    • I laughed at this. I mean, crying, tears-and-snot-and-saliva-coursing-down-your-face laughed. Maybe you will, too. (Can’t vouch for other site content.  Mostly because it’s in another language.)
    • To the girl at Target: I’m sorry. That strange series of vocal sounds I made to you is called a “greeting.” In the days of yore, people would offer a greeting as a way of being friendly and acknowledging another person’s existence and importance. I meant no offense.
    • I’m getting old. I made it only halfway through the new Clive Barker novel (“Mister B. Gone”). It’s about an ancient demon’s fun on earth. About the time he described bathing in infants’ blood and the happy way he filled his tub, I’d had enough. Slaughtered babies just aren’t as entertaining as they used to be, apparently.
    • I passed a car wash yesterday. The sign said “Don’t Drive Dirty.” Well. As someone who has driven dirty a time or two, I would argue that point. Party poopers.
    • Does anyone else do dumb stuff like this? I noted my dentist appointment on the calendar. I wrote down the time: 3 o’clock. After a second, I added “p.m.” Apparently, I’m afraid I might show up at the dentist at 3 o’clock in the morning.

    That’s the end of this negotiation.


    Daughterly Advice

    October 1, 2007
    • Driving home with my children, one of my daughters asked where all the cars were going. I told her they were probably going home or to work. “Well, dad, if you see any bad drivers, don’t get mad and say ‘goddammit, do you want a piece of me.'” Now, I will admit to letting the blasphemy slip on occasion, but “do you wanna piece of me?” is not part of my vocabulary. I eventually figured out that she learned that phrase from the movies. Impressive that she could put that retort together on her own.
    • A bumpersticker I saw: Who Would Jesus Bomb? I got a laugh out of that. An ironic musing, I’m sure, but it made me think. According to the book of Revelation, one of the trumpet judgments will release four angels bound at the river Euphrates who will kill “a third of mankind,” which would notch a body count of about 2 billion if done today. If He’s willing to loose genocidal angels, I’m guessing bombs wouldn’t keep Him up at night, so maybe it’s not so ironic after all. I love beer.
    • Went to see “Short Cuts” at the local art house theater. There was an annoying woman down the aisle who wouldn’t stop talking, kept laughing at moments that weren’t funny and ate her popcorn very loudly. In the film, there’s a scene where a fisherman discovers a woman’s body in a river. Surprisingly, this elicited not a peep from the Noisy Bitch. Moments later, the fisherman was seen gutting a trout, and Noisy Bitch said “Eeww, I don’t want to see that.” To review: grossed out by gutted fish, not bothered by bloated, naked human corpse. Nice.
    • Walking through Target yesterday, I spotted a cosmetic product known as lip-plumping gloss. The name? Sexy Motherpucker. It’s so subtle. I like it.
    • Speaking of subtle, here’s a headline that made me chuckle: La Nina Threatens to Wreck World’s Weather. Again, subtle. I like that. No need to overstate it.
    • Just sick and wrong.
    • I’m trying to teach my daughters manners. For example, when they want some water to drink, instead of pointing at their glass and barking “arrgh!” Tim Allen-style, I tell them to say, “May I please have a glass of water?” They will usually replay with something like, “May I a glass water of please have?” They’re 3-years-old, and have never seen a Star Wars movie, so I don’t know where this Yoda impression is coming from.

    Later I’ll you see maybe.


    If You Could Read My Mind

    September 25, 2007
    • When I’m at a buffet restaurant, I sometimes find myself hurrying to the food line before an extremely overweight person gets there. I feel bad, but I blame my survival instinct. They should make a nature show with a whispering narrator: “The tall one now breaks for the pizza line to feed before the big one takes everything and leaves the tall one to starve for the winter.
    • Two days ago, at a stop light, I counted people in four different cars throwing their cigarette butts out the window. Nice to know this beautiful planet can serve as an ashtray. I’m not Captain Planet, nor am I an anti-smoking Nazi, but honestly, some of you smokers deserve all the smoking bans you’re getting.
    • When did they do away with the light brown M&M’s? Those were my favorite as a kid. This is disheartening.
    • Alice Ghostley had the coolest name ever.
    • I must have the nicest ass in Omaha, because other drivers are always trying to ride it.
    • Saw a TV ad for Viagra last night. The jingle was “Viva Viagra,” sung to the tune of Elvis’s “Viva Las Vegas.” There was also a disclaimer: Viagra does not protect against sexually transmitted disease. You know they wouldn’t say that unless somebody had written a letter complaining that “Viagra didn’t stop me from getting the clap.”
    • I could really go for a big bowl of chili right now.
    • There’s a song, “If the World Had a Front Porch” that contains the lyric: It was where granddaddy taught me how to cuss and how to pray. Did this happen at the same time? “Get on yer goddamn knees, boy, we’re gonna teach ya how to fuckin’ pray.”
    • Police seized a photograph of a nude girl from Elton John’s private collection, suspecting it may have crossed the line. I love this quote: The picture is now being examined by lawyers at the Crown Prosecution Service. I’ll bet it is, folks. I’ll bet it is.
    • I’ve been thinking about my strange nocturnal experience described below. I’m curious if it’s all in the brain, or something supernatural. Also wondering if there’s really any difference. I’m reminded of the quote: There are no miracles, only patterns we do not understand. So it can be explained by science or it is simply beyond the ability of science to explain at the moment. Either way, anything that happens is natural. And the same brain that dreams and shows us hallucinations when we trip on acid is the same brain that perceives “reality” for us. Everything that we know to be real is shown and confirmed for us by our gray matter. It could all be a dream within a dream. That’s cool, I think.

    See you in the ether.


    Legs and Ass

    June 1, 2007
    • We got a recorded message on our answering machine from a company urging us to extend our vehicle warranty so we could have the “peace of mind you deserve.” Well, that’s pretty presumptuous, isn’t it? How do they know I deserve peace of mind? Suppose I deserve all the mental anguish I get all the way to the grave? Hmmm?
    • I saw a commercial for the TV show “Hell’s Kitchen.” A prick of a chef berates his contestants in ways that only the truly self-hating would tolerate. Is it just me, or is there an overabundance of asshole behavior on TV? When did this become entertainment? If I were rich, I’d offer one million dollars to the contestant who bludgeoned that lout into a two-month coma. Girls, if you ever put up with that kind of treatment, I will hang my head in shame of the failure I was as a father.
    • It’s not my fault, Honey, I have sexsomnia.
    • In a recent news story, I read that Mayor Ray Nagin gave a speech bellowing that New Orleans is coming back “whether you like it or not.” I wasn’t aware that there was a large constituency opposed to New Orleans’ recovery, but I do know that a certain mayor’s crybaby act is wearing thin.
    • I’ve decided I don’t like air conditioning. I don’t like the artificial cold. You can never set it to a comfortable level. Give me a warm breeze any day.
    • A pizza delivery dude brought me the goods last night, and before I was even done signing my name on the dotted line, he said, “You can add the tip if you want. Helps out with the gas.” I had company, so I didn’t have time to tell him that “reminding” me to tip is unacceptable, white-trash behavior, and that his gas expense is his fucking problem, not mine. Tipping, shit. Sorry, folks, I loathe the practice. I long for a day where I can get service without someone sticking their fucking palm out. Whew, now I feel better.
    • My next screenplay is likely to be about vampires, so I have the enviable task of immersing myself in vampire fiction and folklore. During my research, I discovered that the term “nosferatu” is not Romanian for “vampire.” In fact, it is a meaningless word that does not exist in any language.
    • Speaking of vampire fiction, I came across a book of vampire stories from the last 100 years. Eager to dive in, I turned to the first story, “The Story of Chugoro,” a translation of a Japanese vampire folktale. Irresistible, right? Well, I began to read and was confronted with this: A long time ago there lived, in the Koishikawa quarter of Yedo, a batamoto named Suzuki, whose yashiki was situated on the bank of the Yedogawa, not far from the bridge called Naka-no-hashi. And among the retainers of this Suzuki there was an ashigaru named Chugoro. Um, before you call something a translation, aren’t you supposed to actually translate it?
    • My girls refer to “yesterday” as “last morning.” Not sure where they picked that up, but I think it has a nice, romantic ring.

    See you all next morning.


    Some Crap I Thought About

    May 26, 2007
    • The American Museum of Natural History in New York City has a new exhibition: “Mythic Creatures: Dragons, Unicorns and Mermaids.” One thing we learn is that Christopher Columbus once reported seeing three mermaids while at sea. “Many scientists now agree that what Columbus probably saw was a manatee, an aquatic mammal that resembles a flippered hippo.” Now, I don’t know if mermaids are real or not, but these scientists would have us believe that Columbus thought he saw this, but he really saw this. Hey, it’s a mistake anyone could make.
    • I exited a giant bookstore the other day, and another lady exited just before me. The security detector thingys went off, and she went back in to see if an employee needed to check her receipt. Nobody came, so she started to walk out again, and the alarm went off again. Back in she went. Again nobody came. I advised her to just leave. I ignore those alarms. I just walk out. I’m not a thief, and won’t go slinking back into the store, asking for permission to leave. If you think I stole from you, you’re free to chase me down in the parking lot, but be careful about jumping me–this is not the fat Jimmy from the days of yore, heh-heh.
    • Not sure why, but I was reading up on the presidential candidates of both parties, and something jumped out at me. I read that Barack Obama wants to take the “tit-for-tat” out of American politics. Coincidentally, I read that Bill Clinton is fine with removing the tats, but would prefer to keep the tits.
    • A Tennessee deputy lost his job for accepting a blow job from a porn star in exchange for ignoring the drugs in her car. Yeah, well, he still got a blow job from a porn star.
    • I saw a bumper sticker on a car whose driver must’ve had a death wish. I can’t remember the specific wording, but it was something about George Bush and what a Big-Brotherish dictator he is. This kid was swerving between lanes, driving dangerously fast and riding peoples’ asses and finally running a red light. Now, if you want to express your hatred for Bush on your car, you’ll get no complaint from me, but if you exhibit the kind of selfish, reckless, irresponsible behavior that forces governments to pass more “nanny state” laws, I think you’ve forfeited any moral high ground. Don’t complain about the solution when you’re part of the problem.
    • I spent last night watching John Wayne movies. The Duke would’ve been 100 years old today, Pilgrim.
    • Last night, I thought I heard something in my daughters’ room, so I looked in on them to make sure they were asleep. They were laying in bed, on their sides, facing each other and just talking. No rowdiness or arguing, just having a conversation, enjoying each others’ company. I am not worthy.