Yep, This Is Me

You Are

A Silly Pumpkin Face You would make good pumpkin taffy.

What's Your Pumpkin Face?

Some Heartfelt Thank You's

Perhaps this is more appropriate for Thanksgiving time than Halloween, but you know, I can't do anything normally. Nor would I attempt to, really. But these are things that I've thought a lot about over the last few days, and started writing last night. Now, I don't consider myself particularly sentimental, so bear with me here...

Thanks!

1. To my parents - for putting up with me and supporting me. I know it hasn't been easy and I've caused you a lot of unnecessary concern over the course of my lifetime. It isn't easy for me to express stuff to you, so I don't do it often. I will just say I am really lucky to have the parents I do.
2. To my sisters, Heather and Sara, and their families. For being so good to me. I wouldn't trade my two big sisters, or Gary, or Kristi, or Kevin, or Laura, or Alex, or Jacob, or Bruce, or Curtis, or Brian, or Matthew, or Jackie, or Jessie ... for anything. For anything at all. You are truly wonderful, all of you. I have so many fond memories of chaotic family reunions with small children running amuck (even though I was probably complaining bitterly at the time...) All of you bless my life more than you will ever know.
   
3. To my friends. To Nate (El Gran Taco) for your unique view on the Universe and our movie excursions which helped me get out of my cave sometimes when I really, really needed to. And for just being a great guy.... To Nephi (The Monturf) for being willing to go through some very difficult situations to help me (and somebody very dear to me) out when we needed it. For not getting tired of my weirdness even after seven months of being around each other on a near daily basis. And for being a good example to me of trying to do your best and not quit on things .... To Gary (Evil Chipmunk) for after knowing each other for dang near thirty years and not having me sent to the funny farm. For seeing me at some of my most selfish, idiotic behavior and not telling me to go to hell (even though I really probably deserved it). For great memories of things like Boojum Hunt, playing wargames in the fields, gutting pumpkins at Halloween time, tormenting Kevin on the trampoline and lengthy conversations about anything and everything. Let's hope the next thirty years are just as entertaining. I hope the dark times pass quickly and the sun shines all the more brightly for you.... To Bruce (Old Mighty Cockroach Eater) for being a partner in all things that grokketh and generally weird. For sharing the old Quest games obsessions, for being so fun and cool to hang out with, from the very beginning. And for being so patient with me for that year when I was turned so inside out, emotionally and spiritually, and didn't know what I was doing and took it out on him more than once. You're the best!... and to Carla (my Spirit Twin) for helping me to believe again. In life and in myself. If I'm finally picking myself off the ground and heading in the right direction again, it's because of you. For the past couple of years, I had simply thrown the towel in on everything. I was ready to call it quits. And then along came you. Whether it's helping me torment the poor Monturf's brain, plotting evil Sim deeds, ranting about packages at work or just the mischievous glint in your eyes when you are about to throw something at me, you always brighten my day...
   
4. And most of all, to my Heavenly Father and my Savior. For everything.
   

Well, I'm running on fumes at this point. I've been up since 3:45 this morning, so I guess some nappy time is in order. I hope all this makes some sort of sense. I'm fairly rambling and disjointed when it comes to these sorts of things. Anyway, you all are great and I appreciate you being a part of my life... thank you.

Dave

Friday Morning musings...

I wrote a lengthy post last night about special people in my life, but I have temporarily pulled it. Maybe I'll re-post it on Sunday. It seems more appropriate. So, onto other things...

I read this morning that George Takei, best known as Mr. Sulu from the original Star Trek TV series and movies, has come out of the closet. I was discussing this with the Monturf last night. My attitude is, so the hell what?! Whatever is going on in somebody's bedroom or general personal life is not the business of the rest of us, be you gay, straight, bi, or ... whatever. So shut your trap already! I don't want to hear about it. Find something worth talking about. Like the price of floormats in Mongolia, or how to make a better reversible jacket out of burnt lama wool.

Ah yes, the evil toys I was discussing. Well, here's the first three I've got lined up for production come this X-mas season:

1. Disembowel Me Elmo. I've been talking about this for probably ten years. I came up with it when I was working at K-mart back in '95, slaving away in the toy department during the holiday season. What youngster wouldn't want the joy of slicing open Elmo with a butterfly knife (included) and playing with his warm, steaming entrails? A must have for psychologically disturbed kids as well as future morticians.
2. Special Needs Teddy Ruxpin. The lovable talking furball is back ... with a few modifications. This version of Teddy is the electronic equivalent of a mongloid, has turret syndrome and is a kleptomaniac. So basically he wanders the house spewing profanities, stealing everything in sight and looking very confused while doing it.
3. Frisky Fozzie. This is the just the thing you need to disturb and disgust family, friends and neighbors alike. An anatomically correct version of Fozzie Bear from the Muppet Show, Frisky Fozzie comes complete with a raging libido as well as a built in Barry White soundtrack (speakers are mounted in his ears). Picture this: it's two in the morning. You and the missus are sound asleep. Suddenly, the sounds of "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" begin coming from the basement. The kids come running up the stairs into your room, screaming and yelling something about Fozzie and the cat downstairs... you get the idea. And as an added feature, you can have Fozzie sent to the Snippety-Do-Dah clinic in Twin Falls, Minnesota to remove certain ... capabilities that every Frisky Fozzie is factory-made with.

Yeah, I'm a sick loony, I know it. And just wait until my line of children's storytime books comes out sometime next year. Are you SURE you want to have kids?!...

Anti Stick-Chick Week

Got up this morning. Staggered about a bit. Found some orange juice and meds. Turned to look at the TV. KUTV is showing some tiny little anorexic brunette in a black shirt and spandex tights doing some stupid exercise thing - walking back and forth, hoisting a couple of dumbbells up and down. This girl ... I mean, if my cat sneezed, it would probably send her flying thirty feet and crack half her ribs.

Ok, so I am sick and tired of little Ms. Gym Rats in this country. What a bunch of shallow, self-serving monsters. And Utah Valley is full of 'em. Gap Ho's, I've taken to calling them. You know the type. And why should they, by their very existence, be ruining the earth for the rest of us? Every time a Gap-Ho opens her mouth, the planet becomes slightly dumber. The C02 content of the atmosphere goes up. And every time a Ms. Gym Rat procreates, the rest of us are saddled with the bill of dealing with her equally awful progeny which will grow up to be just as bad, if not worse.

Therefore, I am declaring the week of Nov. 1st through the 7th to be National Anti-Stick Chick Week! Know any of these female creatures? Then celebrate NASCW by tying her up, pouring thirty gallons of Pepsi down her throat and force feeding her fifty pounds of twinkies, EVERY DAY for a week! Burn down Golds Gyms everywhere! Any store that sells a dress size below 10 should be blown up and its employees hunted for sport!

Do the world, your family, your children and yourself a favor. When you see a stick-chick, trip her. Give her a spine noogie. Confuse your breaks and your gas pedal. Put a pirahna in the toilet to bite her face off during her next purge. Infect silcon implants with car battery acid. Just ... do something. It's time to rid the planet of these vacuous bimbos, once and for all!

(updated 8:17 pm)

Asi lo es, vida que me joda constantamente?

"Sometimes I say too much
Even when no one is listening
I wither and falter somehow
I wither and fall silent now..."- Fates Warning

"And now you're trembling on a rocky ledge
Staring down into a heartless sea
Done with life on a razor's edge
Nothing's what you thought it would be..." - Rush

"...that empty feeling, that comes from way down inside...
Feelin' down ... again ..." - King's X

I don't know what's going on. I'm just a train wreck tonight... but at least I can still do basic math. Go figure.

This Is Surprising...

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 7/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

Slartfex

Ok, now I've ruined the national pastime beyond all repair...

Watching game two of the White Sox and Astros over at the Monturf's house, I observed that the microphone near the dugout was picking up conversation between one of the bench managers and one of the Sox players.

Now it seems to me, if I was the manager, I wouldn't let Fox and their stupid electronic equipment anywhere near the dugout. How do I know the other team doesn't have a scout or scouts watching the broadcast and relaying the conversation down to the opponent's bench?! No, I'd find a way to block the transmission and punish the TV people at the same time.

So, I came up with this brilliant idea to electronically jam the transmission with a recording of two German lesbians having intimate relations with each other while farting constantly. "Ooh, Olga!.... I love it when you (faaaaarrrrrrrt) ... oh, yes, oh (faaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrtttttttttt) ..."

And so forth. You get the idea. But it gets worse. I then realized that millions of viewing Americans would be traumatized by this stinky, unholy love audio emanating from their television sets. There must be a way to capitalize off this.

So, now, from El Dave Pharmaceuticals, we have the cure...

(Are you tired of having lesbian fart love interrupt your major league baseball game? Then try Slartfex, the new miracle cure from El Dave Global Pharmaceuticals, Inc. " When the bitches are gettin' hot and stinky, and your brain is going on the blinky, try Slartfex and save your sanity, today!")

Yeah. I know. But I had ginger ale tonight. Plus I haven't slept well in three days due to all sorts of odd dreams. So I blame it all on seemingly unrelated factors than in fact, are conspiring against us all.

But buy some Slartfex today anyway. I want a new 24-carat pressed toothbrush.

What Kind of Food I Am

You Are Chinese Food

Exotic yet ordinary. People think they've had enough of you, but they're back for more in an hour.

What Kind of Food Are You?

Wha' kinda drunk I am?... You wanna (burp) start sumthin'?...

You're An Alcoholic

Time to go back to step one.

What Kind of Drunk Are You?

Exclusive Interview with Bill Cowher

(Thanks to some drugs I found in a discarded box of Cracker Jacks underneath a bench at the Payson City park, I was able to fund a trip back to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I hoped to be able to have some enlightening conversation with erstwhile Steelers head coach, Bill Cowher, who has barricaded himself under a table at a local Denny's restaurant with a rubber spatula while wearing an old Green Beret hat. He claims to be the Chosen Servant of some unknown Space Entity, which is telling him to burn things and destroy the United Nations. Upon arriving, I was escorted to the door of the restaurant by several heavily armed SWAT team members and an FBI profiler. I was wired for sound, as well as fitted with a paranormal activity spectrograph. And then I was allowed inside...)

DRATU: Thanks for having me, coach. I've never interviewed a deranged person under a restaurant table before. Isn't it cold and damp in here, though? I mean, it is a Denny's. Not the most accommodating place in the world even when it's being used as intended.

Cowher: It beats yelling at punters and inept officials. I've grown weary of dealing with those carbon-based primate descendants. Koo-too-loo-mah-bah has shown me the Truth Path, and I shall follow.

DRATU: Uh... Koo-too-loo-mah-bah?

Cowher: SILENCE, UNBELIEVER! Only the Chosen may speak the One Name! The Name which, invoked during the circles of the seventh moon of the new Parsh-Parsh, shall bring for the Festival of the Garking Chalice Zooking Boks! And then the Chucken Warriors shall go forth, and burn the orphanages of the Earth!

DRATU: Uh, yeah, ok. Sorry about that. But what is up with burning orphanages, anyway? Isn't that a tad... sadistic?

Cowher: Oh, they would have you believe they are orphanages, foolish mortal. They are not, let me assure you. They are merely hyperpassageway receptacles for the dreaded servants of the Infinitely Evil Turtle Monk King. But my Sacred Wand of Hoofer-Nah-Baja-Gak-Tho and the Chucken Warriors shall defeat them! We shall prepare the earth for the Great Naga! (at this point, Cowher began ranting incoherently for three hours, using words and idioms I can't even articulate, let alone attempt to spell...)

DRATU: Ooookay. But isn't the Sacred Wand of Hoofer-Nah-Baja-Gak Tho really just that rubber spatula you have been waving around for the past three hours?

Cowher: Yes. But it endows me with ancient and mystical powers. Far beyond your puny comprehension, oh Ape Descendant Boy.

DRATU: I'm comfortable with my ape-descendancy. It just means that when me and my girlfriend are plucking insects off each other's back hairs for dinner, we don't have to feel awkward about it. But moving on. Do you plan on returning to coach the Steelers any time soon, or are you going to ... stay here?

Cowher: The Steelers are part of the earth's ascendancy to the Jinging Fooch-Nah. They shall assist my Master! They shall be as the potted plants of the gardens of the great prophet Doolie-Duk-Bouw! They... (Cowher begins ranting again at this point, spouting dread prophecies of Paris Hilton being impregnated by a rare fungus found in Bolivia and giving birth to something known as the Ho'Skankenfrooten, which would usher in an era of unparalleled destruction and overpriced pizza pies...)

DRATU: Uh, most ... informative. And graphic. I didn't know it was possible to do that with a plant. I think I need a good, stiff drink now.

Cowher: Fear not, Ape Descendant. I have invoked the name of my Master in your behalf. You shall not perish, but shall dwell in a cave with the talking, tentacled head of your cosmic mental shakra alignment twin. And she shall wop you forevermore.

DRATU: Uh, huh. I SEE. Gotta go now! Bye!... (as I ran out the door, I could hear him in the background, beginning to sing some sort of very strange, off-key chant. It sounded like an old Beatles song being sung by Lawrence Welk with his head stuck in a jar full of marbles...)

If nothing else, I don't think the Steelers are going to the AFC Championship again this year. How can an NFL team win with a beret-toting maniac waving a rubber spatula? That only works in the WNBA. And maybe the NHL.

Until later, Oh Ye Reader...

Sim Snapshot

Nothing messes with a Sim's brain more than the GooberMatic Ionic Neural-Pulse Ray disrupter. Batteries sold separately. Not intended for use in conjunction with Turtlewax Nosehair remover tonic. Consult with a living will attorney before useage.

What Part of Fall Am I?

You Are Changing Leaves

Pretty, but soon dead.

What Part of Fall Are You?

Monday Mutterings...

Here's a few things rattling around the dusty, dead-bug cluttered emptiness of my cranial cavity at the moment...

• Filling out a job application this morning. It asks to list any memberships in professional or civic organizations. Hmm. I thought about putting down that I was a member in good standing of the Monturf Society for the Ruination of Humanity. I also considered mentioning my stint as Governor of Louisiana in 1979. And that I have been Ms. Carla's Executive in Charge of Promoting Lobster Lamination since 1984...
  
• The new James Bond has been announced. I think I do remember him from Road to Perdition (good flick, by the way...) Interesting. I confess, I do own all the Bond movies on DVD, so I will be compelled by tradition, if nothing else, to go see the next one. Intriguing that this will actually be a "prequel". Still, I can't see how they can do many more Bond films...
• I'm really disappointed in the unbelievers. So little on TV regarding Halloween. Of course, I don't really watch TV that much. But all I have seen is that stupid, blasphemous beer commercial involving the Headless Horseman. May the advertising people responsible for this atrocity have their genitals (male or female) removed with a large rusty fishing hook.
• Where'd my nice, cold October weather go? I see blue skies and sunshine. Bleah!
• I am still planning on writing the occasional Morning Rant. I am just really lazy right now.
• Teddy Bruschi is out of his mind.
• People who vilify Bill Romanowski for his behavior (on and off the field) should remember that thirty years ago, he would have been classified as a warrior, not a thug. There have been (and are) far worse people in the NFL than Romo. He's just an easy target for self-righteous PC-correct morons.
  

Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah de blah. Ya ya ya...

My "World View"

Your World View

You tend to be an unhappy person. You tend to feel guilty about your own emotions. And generally, you lack confidence in your opinions. You know the so-called facts of life, but not to enjoy life itself. You are not a realist, and you are inclined to be stubborn. You don't hold a very high opinion of the opposite sex.

What Is Your World View?

Hmm. Disturbingly accurate.

Over and Over ... Will I Ever Learn?...

If I hurt you, I don't mean to
Please forgive me
Got no excuse

Over and over again
Over and over
Over and over again
I let you down

I will hurt you, it's what I do
Please forgive me
You don't have to

Over and over again
Over and over
Over and over again
I let you down

- King's X, "Over and Over"

Space Garbage

Reading MSNBC.com this morning... came across an article regarding people's cremated remains being launched into space, including the late actor James Doohan, best known as "Scotty" from the original Star Trek series.

Apparently these "tubes" or whatever the remains are stored in stay in space anywhere from 50 to 200 years before re-entering the earth's atmosphere and burning up.

Think about it for a minute. How many years has mankind been doing spaceflights? Sputnik launched in 1957 if I am not mistaken. And I am sure there are a few other vehicles predating Sputnik that managed to break the "surly bonds of gravity". For argument's sake, let's say fifty years. Even assuming that a lot of the space junk has burned up upon re-entry, I'll bet there is still a lot of debris floating around our little spinning mudball.

But back to canisters full of dead people floating in space. I think it's a bad idea, and not just because the next space shuttle might crash because somehow it got an intake valve clogged with the gritty grey remains of Mrs. Humperdinkwaddlesworth from Bismarck, North Dakota. It's just gross. And what if the atmosphere continues to fail? Maybe the canister comes back down without burning up. Think of it. You and your family are out having a picnic in some quiet, peaceful setting, and all of the sudden this object hurdles out of the sky and lands in your potluck stew. You and everyone else gets covered in hot water, potatoes, carrots, beef, celery, and oh yeah, about twenty pounds of human sand.

Well, that just about ruins picnics, the outdoors and potluck stews for me. I guess all of you will have to deal with it in your own way. I'm going back into my basement with my crack, sports magazines and Jack Daniels... because none of us are safe from falling corpse cans.

Ye Gods, It's Friday the 14th!...

This Day in History: (1947) : US Air Force test pilot Charles E. Yeager broke the sound barrier. Fifty eight years later, a foolish boy on an Indian reservation did the same thing by consuming too many cans of Big Chief Monturf's Extra Spicy Refried Beans, while sitting in a lawnchair. Sad to say, the boy did not have wings or landing gear like Mr. Yeager's plane. An autopsy was not only not necessary (gravity, anyone?) but quite impossible. Rest in peace, foolish little boy....

After weeks of boycotting news in general and CNN in particular, I turn it on this morning in the faint hope they might have something worth watching. Instead, I'm treated to a brunette news anchor ho doing a cutsie-ootsie "interview" with little kids about their great traumatic experiences. I think I might just remove CNN from my listings altogether. Pathetic, lame, insipid ... blah blah blah... (wait, that's Nessie's line...)

Bleah. I re-wrote a James Taylor song this morning, but I decided to yank it. Just don't like it all that much. I'm in a serious creative decline. But perhaps for the rest of the world, that is a good thing. Maybe I need to go wander out into the woods and freeze while writing really lousy poems about finding that rare and elusive beast, the whooping spotted forest chicken...

I Guess They Can't Kick Me Out ... Yet

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 8 out of 10 correct!

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

I'm almost disappointed. I was looking forward to getting kicked out of the country. Maybe I'd go back to Argentina and become a hard-drinkin' futbol fan, famous for inciting riots in every soccer country in the world at least once....

The Terrible Secrets of Mr. D

Discovered a truth today about an individual who was the trouveres conductor and a teacher at PHS during the time of the Monturf and I. It seems, that due to an unfortunate accident involving a toaster, toilet plunger, waffle iron and a cheap transistor radio, Mr. D wound up spending a large amount of time trapped in a port-a-pottie on Jupiter. His escape was so bizarre and beyond comprehension that it is better not to waste time on explanations.

No, I am not on crack (unfortunately.) No, I haven't been tentacle-whipped (lately.) Yes, I am mixing cough syrup with peanut butter and garlic. That has nothing to do with it. I just like my pb sandwiches to have a ... little kick.

More information on this developing story as we conjure it ... er... ah ... hear about it.

A Few Updates

Made a few cosmetic changes to the blog this morning. I figured out (finally) that those of you using Internet Explorer were probably having the sidebar placed clear down at the bottom instead of beginning at the top of the page. This has been fixed by removing the Goth Quote Generator. No big deal, the quotes were fairly repetitive. And I'm too lazy right now to learn how to play with the HTML formatting. Actually, just so you know, Internet Explorer really sucks, and you should consider switching to Mozilla Firefox.

Also, check this story out. Sick, sick, sick. I knew there was a legitimate reason to hate French people.

You'll Just Have to Guess...

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you. You'd like your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change. You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please. Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage pessimistically. You don't think happy marriages exist anymore. In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Stop Me Before I Blogthing Again, Pt. II

You Are 60% Addicted to Blogthings

You're a Blogthings fiend - addicted but not totally dependent. So what if you know your personality type by heart? And while you may feel like Blogthings is crack... There are people much worse off than you!

How Addicted To Blogthings Are You?

Stop Me Before I Blogthing Again, Pt. I

You Are Likely an Only Child

At your darkest moments, you feel frustrated. At work and school, you do best when you're organizing. When you love someone, you tend to worry about them. In friendship, you are emotional and sympathetic. Your ideal careers are: radio announcer, finance, teaching, ministry, and management. You will leave your mark on the world with organizational leadership, maybe as the author of self-help books.

The Birth Order Predictor

Me, writing self-help books? Excellent. What an opportunity to mess people's minds up beyond all repair on a large scale! I'm already working for the Coast to Coast with Caesar Monturf radio network, so that makes sense. Ministry? Been there, done that. Argentina will never recover. Leadership? Well, that's questionable. I leave the lights and pomp to the vainglorious Monturf. I work in the shadows, where no one can see my malevolent mind forming new and terrible plans for the human race. Finance? Short-lived. I'd simply empty the till, make some phone calls, and be on my wave to a cave abode in Mexico. Teaching? Possibly. If their minds are young and pliable, so that I may fill them with incorrect information and turn them loose on society. Management? Uh ... not sure. I really don't want to be the pointy-haired dude from Dilbert. If I got to execute employees on a daily basis, though, I would accept the position.

Midnight Mumblings

Haven't had a whole lot to say lately, as many heavy things have been weighing on my mind. Like that authentic Navy battleship anchor hat I bought. What the hell was I thinking? My neck looks like a u-turn noodle now.

But in spite of my pain, suffering, and lack of cranial fashion sense, I have a few odds and ends to spout this evening...

1. I suspect the Steelers QB Ben Rothlisberger has a pretty severe knee injury. That was a nasty looking shot he took.

2. The new Sheryl Crow CD is a million times better than her last, which was way too dang bright and cheerful for me to tolerate for long. (Please don't make me listen to Soak up the Sun, or you will be soaking up my vomit off your couch...) The new album is laid back, more introspective and at the same time a bit on the darker side. Which, of course, I think is wonderful. Hey Sheryl, leave the happy-crappy for ditz queens like Gwen Stefani, and stick to what you do best. Good album.

3. It's been a few weeks since the Ozzfest incident, but I think the only real mistake Bruce Dickinson made is that he didn't haul Sharon Osbourne on to the stage and let Eddie eat her. If any man on this earth deserves and needs a divorce, it's poor Ozzy. Fortunately, he's so totally out of it by this point, he has no idea what a foul creature he's living with.

4. Twenty-days left to Halloween, children! There's still plenty of time to put up decorations, break out old black 'n white monster movies, pray to the Great Pumpkin and read Edgar Allan Poe or H.P. Lovecraft tales...

5. Once again, global geodynamics have failed us. Why didn't the earthquake occur along the Afghanistan and Pakistan border, rather than the Indian border? Woulda killed Osama the Camel Bugger and all his bearded loser buddies in one fell swoop of collapsing mountain caves. So, you'll hear it here first. Mother Nature herself supports terrorism by failing to do anything about them.

6. And finally, this little bit of bizzar-o-ness. I don't care what these people are doing in their free time. I'm just upset they aren't sharing their drugs with me. Oh well, back to sniffing strawberry soda at the Monturf's Casino and winding up unconscious in a ditch somewhere in Pleasant Grove without any socks, eyebrows or a wallet...

Ok, Really, This is the Last One

Your Extroversion Profile:

Assertiveness: Low

Excitement Seeking: Low

Sociability: Low

Activity Level: Very Low

Cheerfulness: Very Low

Friendliness: Very Low

How Extroverted Are You?

I think I'm doing so many blogthings because it is easier than posting a real live rant right now. But if you have any other ideas of why I am doing this, post a comment. The best one will receive a box of stale crackers from Singapore! (crackers prize subject to availability. Offer void in New York, Massachusetts, Louisiana and Mississippi...)

Well, according to this analysis, I'm just a very low person. It's a wonder I have a pulse. I wonder if they are giving out applications for quasi-vampires?

Ok, One Last Blog Self-Analysis

How You Are In Love

You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. You give and take equally in relationships. You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

How Are You In Love?

Ok, I think I have given out too much information on myself here ... unless, of course, I am just doing this to mess with people's minds again. Which is very possible. I have a very devious gerbil running my mental wheel upstairs...

My Depressed Inner Child

Your Inner Child Is Sad

You're a very sensitive soul. You haven't grown that thick skin that most adults have. Easily hurt, you tend to retreat to your comfort zone. You don't let many people in - unless you've trusted them for a long time.

How Is Your Inner Child?

It would have turned out differently if they would have let me burn the school down when I was five years old. Now I'm doomed to a life of ... whatever it is. Ah well. It could be much worse. I could be French.

Humorous Quote

Quote of the Day: "David Hasselhoff has released a rap album. My God, haven't black people suffered enough?" - Bill Maher

My Brazilian Name?!

Your Sexy Brazilian Name is:

Vinicius da Costa

What's Your Sexy Brazilian Name?

Good Lord. My sexy Brazilian name sounds like a gay Italian housepainter. I'm gonna go hit myself with a brick.

Pizza Personality Test...

Cheese Pizza

Traditional and comforting. You focus on living a quality life. You're not easily impressed with novelty. Yet, you easily impress others.

What's Your Pizza Personality?

This one seems off to me...I don't think I impress people easily. For one thing, I hide in a cave. People don't normally see me unless I'm delivering some sort of explosive device on behalf of the Monturf. Two, I'm not pursuing any sort of "quality" life. I'm a threat to society in general and the planet as a whole.

However, I do like cheese pizza.

My Hidden Talent?...

Your Hidden Talent

You have the natural talent of rocking the boat, thwarting the system. And while this may not seem big, it can be. It's people like you who serve as the catalysts to major cultural changes. You're just a bit behind the scenes, so no one really notices.

What's Your Hidden Talent?

A Word of Profound Wisdom

Watching the White Sox - Red Sox game this afternoon ... and suddenly when this really hideous Burger King promotion appeared ... and the Monturf suddenly screamed that if you are in the forest, cutting down trees, and a gay puppet in a medieval costume offers you a sandwich - don't take it.

Now you know. It's very sound advice.

NFL First Quarter Predictions

Ok, fours weeks down, twelve to go (well, thirteen ... dumb bye week ....) And here I am, drinking Gweedo Rat-bourbon and muttering to myself dire predictions. Oh, wait. I always do that.

Ok, without further intro shlock schmock ...

1. The first coach to be fired this year will be Houston Texans coach Dom Capers. He will be replaced by Jimmy Johnson, who will retire three minutes after taking the job when he realizes that he doesn't have anyone who will give up sixteen draft picks for David Carr and the naming rights to his golf club in the West Keys. The Texans then hire 60 Minutes curmudgeon Andy Rooney, who bans all women from the stadium, makes the team wear equipment from 1933 and hires Andy Griffith to perform the new "Texan Fight song" at each halftime. The team goes bankrupt by the end of the year. Reliant Stadium is turned into a permanent emergency facility for people too stupid to get out of a hurricane's way.

2. Dick Vermeil makes eight appearances on Oprah by week #12, as his defense turns out to be the same old thing in an a new package (again). Oprah takes up a fundraiser to buy him a lifetime supply of Kleenex as the coach sobs uncontrollably over the Chiefs giving up 83 fourth-quarter points to the Dallas Cowboys, quarterbacked by Bill Parcell's illegitimate child Chubba Malorkey.

3. Mike Tice quits the Vikings. Not because they are 1-11 and Daunte Culpepper has thrown forty-seven interceptions, but because the NFL discovers he scalped tickets to a Girl Scout's camp. Tice goes to work for George O'Leary, and Central Florida doesn't win a game for the next twenty years. The boosters consider it a great success.

4. The NFL makes teams put advertising on their helmets for Goya Bean products, and Paul Tagliabue is voted biggest sports advertising pimp of the 21st century by Wall Street.

5. A poll reveals that Jerry Jones, his twelve-person sized hot tub and the Cowboys cheerleaders are responsible for 85% of the illegitimate children in the Dallas/Fort Worth area over the past ten years. Unabashed, Jones renames the stadium Trojan Arena and has packets of Cowboy logo stamped condoms shot out of a cannon into the stands during time outs. Six months later, most of Texas is dead due to a manufacturing defect with the rubbers that causes them to become a lethal form of genital leprosy as soon as they come in contact with human skin.

6. The Detroit Lions have scored all of 96 points by week #15. Steve Mariucchi is consulting with fortune tellers and former Soviet KGB agents in an attempt to find a quarterback who can complete three passes in a row. They tell him it's beyond their powers and suggest he sell his soul to Satan. A week later the Luciferian Lions take the field, and led by the reanimated corpse of Sammy Baugh, win by fifty-five points.

7. El Dave (your truly) breaks the Monturf's TV during a football game after seeing that damn beer train commercial for the last frickin' time. The Monturf simply calls Sunny, who steals one from a local soup kitchen and delivers it to him by the third quarter.

8. Bill Belichick blows up a bus full of children because he suspects one them knows the condition of a mole on one of the assistant trainer's toes. He claims that it was within his rights to ensure that vital information was withheld from public knowledge, which could jeopardize the Patriots' chances of converting third-downs inside the opponent's forty-yard line with less than a minute left in a half in temperatures between 18 and 28 degrees Celsius with wind gusts ranging between 3 to 10 miles an hour in games played after 4 pm EST.

9. After being asked by a reporter about another possible home-field playoff collapse, Steelers coach Bill Cowher pulls out a Green Beret hat, a giant rubber spatula, screams "Death to yo' Mama!" and beats everyone in the interview room severely. Police find Cowher under a table at Denny's, muttering to himself about lighter fluid, orphanages and the UN.

10. A giant spaceship lands at Invesco Field during the third quarter of the Broncos - Raiders game. A little green man comes out and asks for Gary Crowton. "That way, dude", says backup QB Bradlee Van Pelt, pointing towards the Pacific Coast. The alien thanks him, gives him a discount card to Savers, and returns to his ship.

NFL Week #4

What can I say? In the brave new NFL world of parity (mediocrity?), there's no telling what will happen next. Teams that looked great the first two weeks now look like a junior high team could beat them. Teams that I thought might not win until week #14 are looking like Super Bowl contenders.... well, it makes for an interesting, if somewhat frustrating experience. You never know what will happen, but you'll also never know if a team is really that good any more, because there's no steady standard to gauge them against...

I didn't see the game, but the fact that Denver won in Jacksonville is a good sign. Now, the Jags aren't exactly a great team, but in years past, these "should-win" games are ones the Broncs tended to ... not win. Like last year's 7-6 loss to these same guys. But, given their recent history (fast start, mid-season crash, recover just enough to make the playoffs...) I think the jury is still out. Nonetheless, a heartening win. It's been six or seven years since Denver's defense has played this well.

Other thoughts ... I admit that I'm a bit tired of the Patriots, and all the Tom Brady/Bill Belichick hoopla. So seeing them struggle doesn't hurt my feelings. At the same time - as bad as they looked against the Chargers - I still see them winning the East and going deep into the playoffs. The AFC West looks like it will be it's normal crazy self. I know the Raider's defense is abysmal, but I still think come late November they will be in the mix. All four teams are going to beat the crap out of each other.

It's time to give up on Joey Harrington, in Detroit, at least. Ditto for David Carr in Houston. Maybe the Lions and Texans should swap Carr and Harrington and see if a change of scenery would do anything... The Redskins aren't for real. Only one team in history has done anything with an offense that lousy, and the Skins are not the 2000 Ravens... how much longer can the Eagles keep McNabb upright? If he can keep it up, they are the team to beat, not only in the NFC but maybe the NFL. But that's a big if...

One last thought, from Bill Williamson of the Denver Post. Remember last year's flap about Jake Plummer wanting to wear a #40 to honor his former teammate and friend, Pat Tillman? The NFL threw a fit and threatened to fine him a substantial amount of money. But everybody was wearing a promotional "futbal americano" sticker on their helmet this week for marketing purposes. I love pro football, but the NFL really is a bunch of greedy money-grubbing Scrooges. And don't talk about that United Way crap. The UW isn't that great (ask the Monturf) and it's just a big tax-write off for the league. I've lost a great deal of respect for the league during the past couple of years.

So, after week #4 ... sorry, I still think whoever wins the AFC West will do it with a 9-7 record. It just has the feel of being a wacko division year. So, I still see Denver at 9-7 and a good shot of winning their wildcard game...

Take a Look Below

Ok, well ... I tried the following tests, and some of it is probably surprisingly accurate. (Those of you who know me will know what is, and what is not. The rest of you ... well, you will just have to guess!...)

... obese herbalist?... so I was grossly overweight and smoked pot all day? I can live with that. Just not living in Quebec. Of course, I was hung for treason, so I guess I didn't like those French bastards anyway.

And Now for Something Different, Pt. III

In a Past Life...

You Were: An Obese Herbalist. Where You Lived: Quebec. How You Died: Hung for treason.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

And Now for Something Different, Pt. II

You Are 19 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

And Now for Something Different, Pt. I

Your Power Color Is Red-Orange

At Your Highest: You are warm, sensitive, and focused on your personal growth. At Your Lowest: You become defensive and critical if you feel attacked. In Love: You are loyal - but you demand the respect you deserve. How You're Attractive: You are very affectionate and inspire trust. Your Eternal Question: "Am I Respected?"

What's Your Power Color?

Anything Goes

In a world gone mad with terrorism, natural disasters, bird flu pandemics and an overabundance of lousy beer commercials, it's reassuring to know that some good hearted people are still looking for ways to improve your porcelain throne. I guess I really need to just do like everyone else. I'll go to the government, get a grant for something really ridiculous and make a cool $75,000 a year doing it.

Therefore, I hereby propose that I spent the next sixty-five years developing an invisible toothbrush for giant sea turtles. Hey, even turtles want to be their pearly-whitest.

It's Your Birthday Time Again!...

Last night we celebrated the arrival on Earth of one Miss Carla, Queen of Halloween and Entertaining Mental Incongruities. Yeah, so all three of us acted like five year olds. What's your point? It was fun, and we didn't invite you. Nyah nyah nyah!