El Dave Attempts to Grow Legal Plants

Yes, it's true. Fear, and dread! I'm making the first attempt at gardening since ... well, since I was little and I was forced to work in the garden.

And yes, Carla's influence on me has more than a bit to do with it. I found out that it's relaxing and fun.

Next year, some wacky-tobaky? Hee hee...

(Just so you know, these are baby tomatoes. We'll see if they live...)

New Products and Evil Ideas...

So. After a VERY long day at work (due to obnoxious piles of moving slug-barf posing as "humanoids"), I found refuge in the den of the Caesar. And in my drunken, cold-med addled state, evil things did flow forth...

• a line of kitchen accessories designed with the lonely, horny housewife in mind. (Kudos to "'Til Death Do Us Part" and the washing machine orgasm scene for the idea...) Now, desperate hoochies everywhere can get their freak on while making dinner. Now, as for the accessories ... um, I'm gonna hire someone else to design the specifics. I'm too embarrassed!

• The terrible truth behind Mountain Dew: it consists entirely of pureed beaver and otter flesh (for texture), mixed in with fresh mountain goat urine (for the color), and then snail butt-nuggets (for that extra fresh zing!) Will this information stop me from drinking Mt. Dew? No.

• Manly-Man Salad: A large sized dinner plate, with a outer-ring circle of tasty, tender steak soaked in tomato sauce. In the middle, a large mound of hamburger. Covered with bacon strips, bacon bits. Topped off with meatballs, pepperoni slices and mini-hot dogs. All covered with a large layer of melted, tasty nacho cheese. Mmmm, mmmm.

Now, I go off to dream of barn animals toting rockets in a land where Democrats are hunted for sport and Republicans hate oil and Arabs.

Man of Sorrows

Here, in a church, a small boy is kneeling
He prays to a god he does not know, he cannot feel
All of his sins of childhood he will remember
He will not cry, tears he will not cry

Man of sorrows, I won't see your face
Man of sorrows, you left without a trace
A small boy wonders, what was it all about?
Is your journey over - has it just begun?

Vision of a new world from the ashes of the old
"Do what thou wilt!", he screams from his cursed soul
A tortured seer, a prophet of our emptiness
Wondering why, wondering why...

Man of sorrows, I won't see your face
(I won't see your face)
Man of sorrows, you left without a trace
A small boy wonders, what was it all about?
Is your journey over - has it just begun?

A man of sorrows, wrecked
With thoughts that dare not speak their name
Trapped inside a body, made to feel only guilt and shame
His anger all his life - "I hate myself!", he cried
"Do what thou wilt!"
"Do what thou wilt!", he cried

Man of sorrows, I won't see your face
(I won't see your face)
Man of sorrows, you left without a trace
(left without a trace)
A small boy wonders, what was it all about?
Is your journey over - has it just begun?

Man of sorrows, I won't see your face
(I won't see your face)
Man of sorrows, you left without a trace
(left without a trace)
A small boy wonders, what was it all about?
Is your journey over - has it just begun?
Has it just begun?

- Bruce Dickinson

Utah: Land of Internationally Iliterate Yaks

People are so dumb. Don't even know the difference between Boris Yeltsin and Mikhail Gorbachev. Pathetic fools.

I think I'll start telling people that Yeltsin ran a crooked lama farm in southern Arizona, and that Russia is something that their grandmas just made up to make them behave.

How about teaching a little more geographic and international studies and a bit less on the math crap that 99% of us will never use?

A (Cough Hack) Ballad of (Sneeze) My Precious...

Sometime in the spring of '07
There was a poor mistreated man
Who worked and toiled at his job
But got stepped on like a tin can

Oh, the stress caused his brain
To growl, spew and overheat
Now he spends all his time in bed
Being force-fed pills and wheat

He was a sad man,
A coughing man,
A run down man,
A slave for the system...

And then things got even worse
His woman left him, what a curse
She said he was lazy, didn't pull his load
That he was just a big red-head toad

And the poor ill man, well he cried
He cried and cried and cried
And then after that he took a nap
And then cried and cried some more

He said, I'll win back her love
I'll do what I should have at the first
So he went to his job with a bottle of liquor
And burned down the place, with a snicker

Then he found a new job, tele-marketing hell
That he worked from his stinky prison cell
In his spare time he tried to reach his woman
But she'd shacked up with some guy named Hooman

In his grief, his dark despair and rages
The poor coughing man did an act for the ages
He somehow got a hold of a lighter and gas
Burned down the whole prison, what an ass

The poor coughing man, now a dead BBQ
Doomed all of America, oh boo-hoo
For after his evil deed had been done
All the liberals abolished jails, the freakin' nuns

Then all the evil criminals ran amuck
Stealing, looting, killing like evil ducks
'Till nothing was left of our former nation
Not even a single bloody radio station

And the moral to this tale, well it's
A rather bit long and quite convoluted
And it's made me lightheaded so...

(thunk!)

Deadly Shrieks from the Desk of Pain!

Far way from home
Living in a bucket-less land
Where no lobsters roam free
Where Paula Abdula-Shaka-Laka
Feasts on flesh of man

Oh save me from the bad Things
Give me lots of drugs to drink
And black-breaded vodka
To bathe in, in a rusty sink
Oh save me, won't you King of Gogle-Bash-Ner?

Plaster of Parrot
A dash of old rotted rat hat
These are things that keep us
Trembling under floor mats
The land of no buckets
And the land of no lobsters

I want to die
I want to die
Please let me die
Die Die Die Die Die...

The weakness of the gell-blob
Lodged 'twixt my ears
Gives creedence to my insanity
And my Leprechaunic Fears
Here lies the pain, the Desk of Pain!

Don't want no love, no not at all
Love is something that out of
Dying donkeys' butts does fall
Don't bring me money or fame
Just bring me drugs and a bucket-lobster
To ease my pain

But better yet to die
Alone in a small puddle of
Rancid bat kidneys
Because, because, because...

VTU Shootings

"The media loves the latest tragic suicide
They exploit it, then package it and profit from the people who die"

- Nevermore

The vultures from CNN and other ratings-seeking carnage whores are well into their feeding frenzy already. It's all too easy to see the reporters and anchors covertly placing office pool bets on how many corpses will turn up.

The higher the body count, the higher the ratings.

Sick.

My Brain Analyzed Again and Other Such Stuff

You Are the Ego

You take a balanced approach to your life. You definitely aren't afraid to act out on your desires - even crazy ones. But you usually think first. Morals drive you as much as hedonism does. You've been able to live a life of pleasure... without living a life of excess.

Are You Id, Ego, or Superego?

You Are a Chocolate Cheesecake

Rich and greedy, you're attracted to the dark side of life. Nothing ever quite satisfies your inner beast. And somehow, people find that sexy.

What Kind of Cheesecake Are You?

There's a 46% Chance That You Need Therapy

If you think you need therapy, you probably do. But there's a good chance you don't. Like everyone else, you have your fair share of problems. And unlike most people, you're fairly good at solving them yourself.

Do You Need Therapy?

What Your Favorite Color Black Says About You:

Timeless --- Stylish --- Sophisticated Overpowering --- Intimidating --- Dominant Perfectionist --- Controlling --- Competent

What Does Your Favorite Color Say About You?

You Are Pretty Happy

You generally have a happy, fulfilling life. But things could be a little better, and deep down, you know it. Maybe you need more supportive friends or a more challenging career. Something is preventing you from being totally happy. You just need to figure out what it is!

How Happy Are You, Really?

You Are 60% Angry

Generally, you are not an angry person. But you're easily frustrated and enraged. You have one heck of a temper. And because of your anger, you tend to feel resentful and even spiteful. You already know how to quell your anger. You just need to do it more often.

How Angry Are You?

Thoughts...

• "We'll love you just the way you are if you're perfect." - Alanis Morissette
  

• "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

• Do you feel something missing
  Deep from inside
  Like a subtle kind of sorrow
  And you can't place it
  
  I've had this hurting before
  I've had this hurting before
  All that I try
  Don't get me by
  I'm only empty the more - Dead Soul Tribe

Yeah, yeah. Not too bright and cheerful. But the whole happy thing is a concept I struggle with at the best of times, and this is not one of those times.

So Long and Best of Luck #56

Sigh. I'm not surprised by this, but it's still painful. Al Wilson, in my mind, has been the heart and soul of the Denver Broncos since his rookie year. He never took a play off, always conducted himself professionally and with class. How many players would call a press conference to say goodbye to the fans and thank the organization?

I know he's had injury problems, and there's particular concern regarding the neck injury he had late last season. And that, being tight up against the salary cap, he was going to be a prime target for being cut.

Still, I wish they could have found a way to keep #56. I think Denver's making a big mistake. Not to take anything away from Denver's other classy veterans like Rod Smith or John Lynch, but Al truly was the heart, voice and conscience of the defense (and the whole team.)

So, thanks for all the great years, Al. Best of luck, whatever you decide to do.

P.S. Just do me one favor: Please, please, PLEASE don't sign with another AFC West team. Seeing you in a KC, San Diego or Oakland uniform would simply be wrong. Wrong enough to tip the whole planet off its axis, or rip large holes in the space time continuum. Not to mention offend all the Football Gods...

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

As Bart Simpson would say, "Ay carumba!" 93 pounds of purloined ladies' underthings. Sheesh. Get a date, dude.

On Vacation ... Don't Like It? Try Vitamin KissMyButt...

You Should Get an Abstract Tattoo

Artistic and unique You're the most likely type to personally design your tattoo

What Tattoo Should You Get?

You Belong in Paris

Stylish and expressive, you were meant for Paris. The art, the fashion, the wine! Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park... You'll love living in the most chic place on earth.

What City Do You Belong In?

Dear God. I feel like slapping myself.

You Are 85% Tortured Genius

You totally fit the profile of a tortured genius. You're uniquely brilliant - and completely misunderstood. Not like you really want anyone to understand you anyway. You're pretty happy being an island.

Are You a Tortured Genius?

You Are 75% Non Conformist

You are a pretty serious non conformist. You live a life hardly anyone understands. And while some may call you a freak, you're happy with who you are.

Are You a Nonconformist?

You Are a Realist

You don't see the glass as half empty or half full. You see what's exactly in the glass. You never try to make a bad situation seem better than it is... But you also never sabotage any good things you have going on. You are brutally honest in your assessments of situations - and this always seems to help you cope.

Are You An Optimist or Pessimist?

R.I.P. Bob Clark

I had never seen "A Christmas Story" until this past December, when Carla introduced it to me. (Yes, I've been living in a cave, on Mars, with my fingers in my ears...)

This is very sad. And the reason why I say DUI's should merit much harsher sentences. Like say, a minimum of twenty years, hard labor.

Why are people so thoughtless and selfish? It's so simple: if you drink, call a cab. Don't ruin other people's lives with your stupidity.

I hope the drunk driver gets absolutely nailed to the wall.

Yup. Still Bitter.

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies...

No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you!

- The Who