House Mouse

I have a mouse. And I don’t mean a “pet” mouse, I mean a fat brown vermin who has decided it’s too cold outside and he wants to live indoors. My first discovery of my new friend was Sunday morning. Watching TV I thought I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. A few minutes later he popped his head out from under the TV stand, flipped a tiny mouse finger at me and was gone again.

I don’t have anything against mice as long as they stay outside. This one took up residence without even asking or chipping in for rent. I tried to play nice. I drew up an agreement splitting household chores and the bills, but he refused to sign. He hired some lawyer from the back of the phone book who’s trying to sue me saying that the mouse’s family lived here before I moved in so I’m actually the squatter. He claims his great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandfather is the original tenant, having dug a nest under my home years ago.

So now I’m due in court in a few weeks to defend my territory. Who knew mice could be so litigious? The whole thing may be settled long before the first word of testimony though. I set out some poison and he ate the entire box. Greedy bastard.

My Thankful List

God for directing my path

      

Family—without you I have nothing

Friends—thank you for accepting me as the doofus I am

My car eventually needs about $1000-$1200 of repairs but it still runs. Woohoo!

The election is over! Ding dong the campaign is dead!

Music—without it I would go insane

Books—without them I would go insaner

Pizza—the basis of my food pyramid

My new job—health insurance, vacation and paid holidays—friends I haven’t seen in a long time

The night sky—a thing of beauty on a clear evening

Dogs and cats—I don’t have one of my own at the moment but they are amazing animals

Movies and TV shows that make me laugh—Monty Python, MST3K, Hogan’s Heroes, The Big Bang Theory, Galaxy Quest, Office Space, The Office, The Kids in the Hall, David Letterman, Conan O’Brien, Craig Ferguson, NewsRadio, Looney Tunes, Rocky and Bullwinkle,  The Daily Show, etc.

Stauffer’s Milk Chocolate Star cookies (my box is almost empty)

Baby Back Ribs (droooooool)

decent health since I really don’t take good care of myself

a good dentist who is helping me fix my bad teeth

good landlords who haven’t raised my rent once since I’ve lived on their property

a day off from work

people who will voluntarily put themselves in harm’s way for someone they don’t even know (police, firemen, military, etc.)

I live in a free country

There are many more but that’s good for now. Happy Thanksgiving.

It's Car Repair Man!

Last Wednesday I was still a mild mannered inhabitant of the planet earth, walking zombie-like through my days as an office drone, eating frozen pizza and channel surfing through 118 channels of reality shows and programs that are labeled “comedies” but really just kind of make me sad. Then the muffler strap on my car broke. I looked at it and thought to myself “I can replace that”. Instantly I was transformed into “Car Repair Man”!

Now understand that there are monkeys in the jungles or Borneo that know more about cars than I do. Also know that tools and I do not get along. I swear at them, they refuse to work the way they’re supposed to and it devolves into me yelling at inanimate objects until the neighbors calm me down using cocoa laced with mood stabilizing drugs. But the muffler strap looked innocent enough.

Wearing the cape, fur boots and glittery golden mask of “Car Repair Man”, Thursday morning I jacked my car up to take the rear tire off to give me more room to work. With the lug nuts removed I pulled on the tire . . . and it didn’t budge. I kicked the tire and it called me a jerk. I hit the tire and it called me stupid. Reaching into my superhero utility belt I pulled out a can of WD 40, spraying a generous amount around the wheel spokes. Still, the tire would not move. But we superheroes have a steely resolve. I went back to hitting and kicking the tire with the flailing arms and legs of a child throwing a hissy fit. It didn’t work. By now the tire was laughing at me, telling the brake rotor jokes about my genetic makeup and cultural heritage. I have to admit the tire had good material. It could have paneled with Carson easily.

I reached again for my WD 40 releasing a mighty stream of the lubricating liquid until the tire had no choice but to surrender. As I pulled it off it said in a weary voice, “Tell the left side suspension  . . . I love her.” Finally having room to work I took a good look at the broken strap. It was still held on by a metal shaft stuck through a 3 inch thick hunk of rubber. The technical car name for this is “that rubber doohickey”. For removal I had to spray a lot of WD 40 into the hole, grab hold of the strap with a pair of pliers, twist that rubber doohickey 180 degrees and pull like hell. The technical term for this maneuver is “holy shit is this really how you take one of these bitches off this is such a pain in the ass why won’t it come off I don’t want to waste the whole day replacing a $28 muffler strap I have other stuff to do please come off you piece of shit”.

Success! At last the old strap was removed! Angels descended from the clouds to sing me a chorus of triumph while I stood with my arms akimbo, beaming a beneficent light as “Car Repair Man”. Putting the new strap on took less than 10 minutes. The tire was back in place in another 5 and it was time for me to change back into a mild mannered citizen of Earth.

Look! In the driveway! Is it . . . some guy? No! Is it . . . another slightly different guy? No! It’s Car Repair Man!

It's Conservative Pundit Dirty Limerick Time!

I can’t stand the cabal of conservative pundits that pollute the air waves, spewing their bile and flinging their feces around like enraged monkeys. I believe they are contemptuous of their “fans” that have made them rich by listening and watching their programs and buying their insipid books. They simply hit upon a way to get rich. They feed a certain segment of our population ignorant, racist and disingenuous fecal matter and for some reason the people eat it up like mashed potatoes.

I have been laughing my ass off listening to them try to spin the reason their boy Mitt got flattened like new asphalt by a steamroller. I decided the only real way to show my churlish discontent was with . . . dirty limericks:

There once was a blowhard named Limbaugh

Who liked to lick men’s sweaty balls

His tongue became swollen

Even more than his belly and

Now Hannity won’t take his midnight calls

There once was a vile piece of shit named Coulter

Who believed everyone but her falters

She’s an attention whore

and nothing more

quoth the raven fuck the rancid bitch

There once was a man named Hannity

Who babbled nothing but inanity

He’s a weak minded fool

And that’s not being cruel

I think he’s a tranny isn’t he?

There once was a station called Fox news

Who sang the Obama liberal blues

They told only lies

Then screamed weak alibis

Hey Karl Rove, fuck you!

There once was a man named O’Reilley

Who spewed horseshit while smiling

He thought he was great

But was really filled with hate

Right back at ya you skinbag full of bile

Election Rant

For the love of God get this election over with I can’t watch another political TV ad or listen to another radio ad or receive another email from the Democratic party of York County asking me for money you’re asking me for money you should be giving me money I’m in debt because I was out of work and then had to work two jobs to make ends meet and you’re asking me for money shut up leave me alone and do you believe I’m going to make my decision on who to vote for due to your ads I couldn’t care less you’re all liars anyway none of you tell the truth about anything and it’s no better on the state level ad after ad after ad each contradicting the previous one lie lie lie lie lie lie lie the money you spent on all these ads that no one is paying attention to could have started businesses which then could have hired people putting them back to work it could have stocked soup kitchens and shelters with food clothing blankets anything they needed it could have funded cancer research Parkinson research ALS research there are so many better places that money could have been spent please please please please please end this election