Archive For 2006

Come on! He’s “Pet of the Week,” people! We don’t give that award to just anyone, you know.

(Be sure to watch all the way to the end.)

YouTube – Pinky the Cat

“stokc recommendations and managing solutions Top stokc tips from seasoned stokc analysts
. . . . . . . .”

(And etc. etc. etc. etc. — “stock” repeated numerous times, but always spelled “stokc” for some reason . . .)

And then a bunch of cliches to follow:

“. . . . . . . .
The more the merrier There are two sides to every question Justice delayed is justice denied. A Growing Youth Has a Wolf in His Belly. Marry in haste, and repent at leisure

A friend is not so soon gotten as lost. Chaste makes waste. To the world you may be one person but to one person you may be the world He who hesitates is lost The stylus is more potent than the claymore. A barking dog never bites.”

God Bless The Information Super-Highway.

(But, then, I should really just shut my bloody trap. Shouldn’t I.)

-Joe

…oh my god…

-Joe

Stupid yes, but it couldn’t be any worse than “Alone in the Dark”…

-Joe

Are you down with the Holy Spirit, motherfucker? You goddam right. Shiiiit.

{ Thanks to Joe Mammy }

(But, then, I should really just shut my bloody trap. Shouldn’t I.)

Ahhh, it’s so nice when divergent cultural threads collide.

Enjoy W on Myspace.

-Joe

{ Thanks to Christopher George }

(But, then, I should really just shut my bloody trap. Shouldn’t I.)

I dreamt last night that I was doing something on the farm with my dad and his hired man (who was not, in fact, my dad’s hired man, but instead a huge fat guy who seldom spoke), and somehow my hand got cut off. I kept telling my dad it was no big deal, that I was fine, but he was quite upset.

Then . . . I think it’s like I wake up (in the dream, that is) to find that I’ve got a replacement hand — a real human hand, but it’s not mine. The hand is fat and old, with huge thick fingers covered with callouses and a puffy boil on the palm, and the fingernails are black with dirt and chopped short, deep into the tips of the fingers. In short, it’s sort of repulsive, and it’s like the fingers are so fat I can’t really bend them very well or make a fist or anything, and it feels really strange because it’s so different from my left hand — but, it works.

Turns out the hired man gave me his hand. Just volunteered to have his amputated and donated it to me. He’s got his left stump wrapped in cloth. Says, since he’s left-handed, he didn’t really need it that much anyway, or something.

He’s getting in the back of a truck to go home (?), and I can’t stop thanking him — I think I hug him, too. Then my dad and I start arguing about the Iraq war, and I get really pissed off and start ranting and raving at him about it . . . This seems to upset the hired man, and I think maybe he’s going to ask for his hand back. But he doesn’t say anything.

And that’s all I remember.

THE END

(But, then, I should really just shut my bloody trap. Shouldn’t I.)

I bet Super Heroes who wear sequins get beat up a lot.

I, for one, feel sorry for them.