Wednesday, August 30, 2006

High IQ

It is common knowledge to those that read this blog or the other blogs that I once wrote for that I am smarter than you. It's not that you, my lovely readers, are stupid, it's just that you're short. A new study has shown that yes, tall people are smarter than short people (for my tall readers I know I just made that statement, but I have plenty of short, stupid readers that probably did not catch it the first time around). According to the study, a height advantage of four inches equated with a ten percent increases in wages on average for both men and women in the United States and the United Kingdom.

One of the authors of the study stated that "as early as age three -- before schooling has had a chance to play a role -- and throughout childhood, taller children perform significantly better on cognitive tests."

This reminds me of a funny little story about how when I was five I made a teacher cry because I already knew more than she did. We never saw her after that day, I have been told that she tried to stretch herself out by placing a rope that was tied to a beam on a tall ceiling around her neck and jumping off a chair. Proving just how stupid she was, we all know that you get taller by drinking your milk and loving the Almighty.

But enough about my heightened intellect and your morbidly horrid, short retardity. Lets talk about something everyone can appreciate - reality television and racism. By now you all know that initially at least the tribes in "Survivor" will be divided amongst racial lines. There will be a black tribe, a white tribe, an asian tribe, and a latino tribe. The news has caused an uproar. New York City officials are asking that the show be pulled from local stations. GM recently backed out of a sponsorship deal. Pop culture talking heads are babbling on and on about it. The consensus appears to be that this plot twist may be a bad idea.

Here's the thing though, not a single episode has aired. Sure we know that there will be a racial divide but we don't know anything more. You know when you can get upset about this, when the teams are divided and instead of being given cute tribe names they are called the Nigs, th Spics, the Gooks, and the Winners. Fucking call CBS then. This is all nonsense anyways because within a few weeks the tribes will be integrated. Now if they're clever they have some National Guard troops stationed around their camp to make sure that the mixin' don't lead to unruliness.

My, I think I have dumbed this down a bit too much. I need to get away now and really put my brain to use. I encourage the rest of you to just keep sitting where you are picking your nose or ass (if your short arms allow that luxury),

I will now leave you in the capable hands of Blog Jesus, as Heightened Jesus, Inc. presents another edition of "And Blog Jesus is Half the Battle." Today's topic: polygamy.

Why the fuck would you marry dozens upon dozens of bitches? I realize there is a degree of power in that, but there are less costly ways of getting that power. Hell spending a ton of money on a ton of chicks is less costly than being married twenty times over. Who really wants to hear the same things from differents spouses night after night after night. You can only tell people how your days was so many times before you start beating someone. Imagine how bad your hand will hurt after hitting all those wives. You like your hand. Do it a favor and avoid marriage.

Consider your world a little bit more righter.


Tuesday, August 29, 2006

HurKat: How to Go From Caring to Not Giving a Shit in Three Parts

If I'm posting on a Tuesday then that can only mean one thing - a great American natural disaster occurred one year ago today. I decided to honor this event by stranding you my lovely readers in the morass that was my three posts about HurKat last year.

I will be back tomorrow with new posty goodness. Until then watch me go from nice to asshole in the span of about a thousand words.

Show Us Your Tidals!!!!!

By the time most of you read this post, Bourbon Street may be really watered down.

Yep, that wicked bitch Katrina is currently buggering New Orleans real good. It's a sad situation really, there are thousands upon thousands at the very least that have been evacuated and may never see their homes again. Even sadder, people will die. Even sadder than that, the size of the erections of the media and execs at "The Weather Channel" - this shit is their black gold. Even more sadder than that, all those politicians who are pissed that they went and got themselves elected last year without getting to pull the heart strings of those that lost at least their homes and possibly some loved ones.

People who had nowhere else to go, most invalids, were direct to the Louisana Super Dome. Fear not for these people, the Super Dome is where miracles happen. Case in point - Keith Smart's game winning shot during the waning seconds of 1987 NCAA Basketball Finals which secured a national championship for the Indiana Hoosiers.

All kidding aside, things are going to really, really suck for those people - it probably won't tsunami suck (not that CNN and MSNBC won't compare the situations (we all know Fox News is above that type of fucking shit)) - but it will suck nonetheless. Luckily there are some that are trying to keep people's spirits up, like Ivor van Heerden, deputy director of the Louisiana State University Hurricane Center. Below are some of the positive things he has had to say:

"All indications are that this is absolutely worst-case scenario!"*

"We're talking about in essence having — in the continental United States — having a refugee camp of a million people!"*

"We're talking about an incredible environmental disaster!"*

** Note: Exclamation marks added in a vain attempt to make dire statements seem a little bit positive.

I don't feel up to continuing to make light of the situation, so I will close by saying that Heightened Jesus, Inc. will be making a donation to help the soon to be struggling people of the area regain a sense of stability again. That's right, we're donating all the beads we purchased during a post Fat Tuesday sale last year to the city so that Mardi Gras is a little less depressing next year.

We're just all heart.



Getting Blown Away

"Not sure how to react to this. My mind is going to fucking explode.

You...Caring....For others. I care too. I agree. Just awful.

Now, please, please....Go back to being your oxymoronical self."

- G.D.

Well at least one person would rather me not give as much of a fuck as I did on Monday and I am weak enough to sway to such a whim, so today I bring the pain - hurricane style.

I ask that you now please enclose all domestic animals in a closet or washer for their own safety.

While I do think is sad that people lost their lives in New Orleans because of Katrina, I am not torn up over each and every death because some of these dumbfucks deserved it. If everybody is screaming "get the fuck out of here," then get the fuck out there. Deciding to weather the storm when you know you live below sea level and you know that some shit is coming at you heavy is possibly the greatest feat of stupidity ever recorded. Those people currently stranded on their roofs because they decided to remain by choice need to be shot or at the very least left there for a few more days to marinate in what now has to be the toxic and shitty water overcoming every inch of their home. Then when they are rescued, they should be shot.

I will give the citizens of Mississippi a bit of a pass. Many knew they were going to be hit, but they did not expect to take on the full wrath of the hurricane. Part of the blame for the lives lost in Mississippi should go to all the news channels that scrambled to New Orleans and made it sound like no other fucking place was going to get fucked. Remember, we are talking about red state southerners - they believe everything said of Fox News and when Geraldo is getting all hot and bothered about New Orleans and New Orleans alone it is understandable that everyone else thought they were safe.

One thing I can't tolerate at all is the looting. All those people are fucks. Sure, some of them are only taking things they need to survive like food, water, and medicine - but those peoples are dumbasses for not stocking up on the shit beforehand. Scratch that, they are actually dumbasses for not getting the hell out of there and stocking up on the shit at some location nowhere fucking near the coast. For those looters that are taking several pairs of jeans or trashcans full of beer, I hope the the continually rising water pays you a visit. Or that those prisoners that rioted break out, find you, and make you their bitch.

Before bringing this post to an end I want all of you to stand up and put your hands together for our President of the United States. On the day after a natural disaster caused catastrophic damage to a wide portion of the nation he governs, this great man cut his vacation short to return to the D.C. and focus on the storm damage. There are so many world leaders who, while on vacation, would get all panicky and rush to their base of operations days before a forecasted disaster strikes to act proactively. Not our Dubya, he'll vacation through the storm and take lead while the rubble is still fresh. Brav-fucking-o Mr. Prez. I salute you.

Well, I feel empty inside again. Things are back to normal.



Live From New Orleans It's . . . . Water . . . Lots and Lots of Water

After watching the news for the past several days and wasting about two hours either displaying sympathy for or bitching about this whole hurricane thing, I decided the best thing for me to do on this Labor Day weekend was to drive down to New Orleans and be as big as impediment as possible. Not that I really want to be an impediment, but come on what good can I really do down there? I am certainly not going to let others climb up on me to avoid rising waters.

Here is my travel journal:

5:00 p.m.: Leave home.

5:02 p.m.: While traveling down highway see that gas prices have gone above $3.00.

5:03 p.m.: Do an illegal u-turn through the median and go back home.

5:05 p.m.: Re-enter house and turn on TV.

5:27 p.m.: Get the great idea to let the hurricane suffering come to me.

5:30 p.m.: See that "MTV's That '70's House" is on - decide to hold off on hurricane to me idea.

5:56 p.m.: My favorite to win "That '70's House" Sarah is eliminated. Desperation knocks for the first time.

6:00 p.m.: See that "Survivor: The Austrailan Outback" is on.

6:07 p.m.: See how hot Elisabeth looks while emanciated, decide that's hurricane enough for now.

6:54 p.m.: Nick eliminated. The black man can't get any help in the outback either.

7:00 p.m.: Nothing worth watching on. Get back to hurricane to me idea.

7:03 p.m.: Plug all the drains in home, start running water.

7:05 p.m.: Knock of hot water heater valve - water begins spewing everywhere.

7:10 p.m.: Notice that a really good episode of "Seinfeld" is on -wished I had held off on idea.

7:30 p.m.: Half foot of water standing in kitchen. Decide to order pizza.

7:31 p.m.: Pizza dude tells me pizza will be delivered in an hour. Desperation sets in.

8:00 p.m.: Pizza I ordered arrives, delivery man swept away by water when I opened my door.

8:01 p.m.: Water takes pizza man to the street where he is run over by a car. First victim of the disaster.

8:07 p.m.: Confirm that pizza was under cooked. Desperation starts building camp in my brain.

8:45 p.m.: Water now up to my knees.

9:00 p.m.: I take a piss in the water. Concern over disease immediately sets in.

9:30 p.m.: Hunger pangs force me to loot fridge. Make off with half eaten baked potato and a bottle of mustard.

10:00 p.m.: Water up to waist. Realize I can't sit in recliner without drowning. Decide to make it to roof.

10:09 p.m.: Make it to garage which is not yet been overcome by water. Grab ladder and head outside.

10:10 p.m.: Notice how peaceful and dry neighborhood is while outside setting up ladder.

10:12 p.m.: Make it half way up the ladder and realize I forgot arsenal to fend off looters.

10:15 p.m.: Re-enter garage and grab shotgun and shells.

10:20 p.m.: Realize I did not bring a TV up to the roof with me. Desperation begins kicking my ass.

10:40 p.m.: Planes from nearby airport fly over. Fire shots into the air to get their attention.

10:42 p.m.: Neighbors step outside and begin to bitch. Mr. Shotgun shuts them up.

10:50 p.m.: Police arrive to, I believe, loot my beer. Me and Mr. Shotgun have other ideas.

10:53 p.m.: Police point a litany of guns at me. Desperation escapes through my bladder.

11:00 p.m.: Rescued at gun point.

Well, no more making fun of those people now that I have lived their life. I am taking Monday off to try to explain to my insurance carrier why everything in my home has been destroyed.


Wednesday, August 23, 2006


Remember the blog lovingly referred to as "Heightened Thoughts"? Remember how every now and then that good ole' MPH would tell the hard news stories to fuck off and just take a lighthearted trip through Amusing-Story-Ville or Rant-Like-A-Crazy-Fuck-Town? Remember how this remember thing got old after the first sentence?

Well I am not in the mood to talk up the grim and gritty shit today. Rather, I have decided that what this blog needs (other than readers) is some nice, cuddly animals, religious thinking at it's finest, and a god damn awesome list. So everyone get their strap ons buckled because the fun we're about to have is going to leave you impotent, but with the desire to pass the good times around.

When a story's first paragraph states "a fierce group of raccoons has killed 10 cats, attacked a small dog and bitten at least one pet owner who had to get rabies shots" you know you got gold on your hands. I talke that back, when a story's head reads "Psycho Killer Raccoons Terrorize Olympia" you are certain you got gold on your hands.

Someone, some where in Olympia, Washington really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, pissed off some raccons and those masked bastards are taking it out on a quiet neighborhood and the domesticated animals that roam about it. As mentioned above, these raccoons have killed at least ten cats and literally tried to carry a small dog away from it's home. This is a dramatic departure from the raccoon's previous peaceful behavior that often saw raccoons and cats walking relatively close to one another without incident.

Nowadays, residents have taken to carrying around weapons such as pepper spray and lead pipes to protect themselves from these raccoons. You can obviously tell these are not your everday, ordinary raccoons. No, they are, as one resident put it "they're urban raccoons, and they're not afraid."

That last quote is very telling. Based on that alone comment alone, my theory is that the nice raccoons were driven out by the more wilder and dangerous version, lets just call them "coons." Suddenly crime is up, there's dead bodies lining the streets, and nice people are afraid to leave their homes out of sheer fear. My sources tell me that many in the neighborhood are hoping that a huge storm leads massive flood takes out the area and displaces these coons. As one neighbor said "Make these coons Houston fucking Texas' problem."

I think the last quote leads perfectly into my next topic, the wonderful minds of religious zealots. Lets start with the mother of two in Florida who is refusing to get rabies shots for her kids who live with her in a bat infested home. The county health department is insisting that the kids get the shots so they don't, you know, die. However, mommy dearest will have none of it and claims that she will rely on faith to protect her family.

Good luck with that one lady. Call me when Jesus appears over your kid's bed taking the back of his hand to the multitude of bats dive bombing your kid's head. It is clear to me that this nutjob wants her kids to die. The shit of it is that she wants to die slowly and painfully rather than just putting them in the back of a van and backing into a pond.

That mom wasn't teaching her kids anything with her actions. Everyone should have seen it coming, the Bible clear says chicks shalt not teach one's with dicks. One church in Watertown, New York obviously didn't get that memo and let some lady teach Sunday school for fifty years before canning her ass. The pastor, who was instrumental in the decision, also a member of the town council. He originally claimed that the decision only relates to church world and not the real world (his words, not mine, honest).

Days later he and the church's board issued another stating that the lady being a woman and teaching mean was only part of the reason for her being fired. They refused to elaborate on the other reasons out of common decency (read between the lines people - geriatric blow jobs for everyone). I will tell you one thing, I am all for women teaching men. I mean, just the other night this stripper show me some positions that, I mean wow.

I promised you a list and I am going to give you a motherfucking list. On a recent posting Joss Whedon, the creator of my favorite show of all time "Buffy the Vampie Slayer", as well as "Angel", and "Firefly/Serenity" provided his adoring fans of his favorite TV characters of all time. He took the idea from James Gunn, director of "Slither", writer of the "Dawn of the Dead" remake, and husband of my latest obsession Jenna Fischer. So if one my favorite people in the TV world and the guy that's banging Jenna Fischer endorses such an idea, I am going to jump on as well. So here is, in chronological order, my twenty-five favorite TV characters:

Hannibal Smith, The A-Team
Det. Frank Pembelton, Homicide: Life on the Street
Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Angel
Roscoe P. Coltrane, Dukes of Hazzard
D.A. Adam Schiff, Law & Order
Anya, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Russell "Stringer" Bell, The Wire
Al Swearengen, Deadwood
Sydney Bristow, Alias
Homer Simpson, The Simpsons
Dr. Gregory House, House, M.D.
Benson, Soap, Benson
Omar Little, The Wire
George Michael Bluth, Arrested Development
Agent Fox Mulder, The X-Files
Jessica Tate, Soap
Bill McNeal, Newsradio
Dr. Peter Benton, ER
Carmela Soprano, The Sopranos
Colleen McMurphy, China Beach
Creed, The Office (U.S. Version)
Chloe O'Brien, 24
Trixie, Deadwood
The Janitor, Scrubs
Dr. Jerome, Ed

Feel free to tell me what I forgot and I will feel free to tell you why I forgot the fucker.

Okay then, time for another edition of "And Blog Jesus is Half the Battle." Today's topic: "Favorite TV Character of All Time."

I like my TV characters to have big dicks and a lot of attitude. That's why my favorite TV character of all time is Rosalind Jane 'Roz' Russell of Night Court. No one, and I mean no one, wore a better gerri curl or butch hair cut like Roz. And those one liners literally stopped women from having abortions - they miscarried from laughter. May the sun always shine on Roz!

Consider your world a little bit more righter.


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Leaving on a Jet Plane

What in the holy fuck? Can someone please explain to me why gas prices are dropping in Indiana even though reports last week stated that thanks to BP we were pretty much on the verge of using puppy dung for fuel. Seriously, I need an update, you see I spent the past week working on my Holocaust myth cartoon to send to Iranian newspapers. You really gotta block everything out when you work on one of those things because you slight fuck up and . . . well I am not one to go into graphic details about such things.

You know it really hard not to be enamored with the U.S. Government. How can you not love an institution which has two agencies sparring over a topic that could mean life or death to those stupid enough to go within one hundred feet these days. I am of course talking about the quarrel between the always right Department of Homeland Security and the always right Transportation Security Administration over whether x-rays can detect bombs in shoes. The TSA claims that the x-rays are effective ways of detecting bombs, Homeland Security, to be technical, are calling bullshit.

I will reiterate, why, for the sake of shit, would you even consider getting on an airplane? Even if they don't get all blowed up by some dude with really, really fancy shoes, there's a good chance that the drunken pilot will just crash anyway. Let not get those motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane (in theaters everywhere this FRIDAY). Blog Jesus was right, invest in horses. Sure they won't be able to get you overseas, but who really wants to leave our warm but constantly infiltrated borders? Frankly, you're less fucked in the good ole United States than anywhere else.

Hell, say you did go all retarded and decided that air travel was the thing for you, it's not like you're actully going to get a seat. According to studies, obeses people now outnumber undernourished, enmanciated people worldwide. That means more and more people are now forced to buy two seats on an airplane, which means fewer seats for skinny, though fucked in the head, people. Plus, why would you want to sit by a fat person on a plane. The smell alone would make the ride unbearable.

Of course, there is a chance that the study I just mentioned is wrong. Odds are that the number of obese people have not increased. Rather, thanks to a unique technique called genocide, those skinny Africans with bugs on them that you see Sally Struthers yakking about have been "cared for" and for only the cost of one bullet. Oh those homicidal maniacs, they just keep giving and giving.

One would think that you could not end on a more inappropriate note, but Blog Jesus disagrees. So let's get to another edition of "And Blog Jesus is Half the Battle." Today's topic: Tucker Carlson.

Blog Jesus says:

I will keep it short and simple folks. You know you're about a year away from sucking dicks on a corner for ten spots when you go from bow-tied conservative talking head to bow-tied conservative hoofer.

Consider your world a little bit more righter.


Wednesday, August 09, 2006

What's Eating At Me Today

I think that I have been too nice lately. I also think that if I keep this nice streak up my readership of two will dramatically drop to one. So I am taking the gloves off today, wrapping my hands in cloth, rolling them over broken glass, and going at your asses "Kickboxer" style. Can you fucking feel the love running away screaming like a stripper you just visited a lacrosse team house party?

I had planned on discussing several things today, but I just can't shake one story that I encountered this evening and I feel compelled to dedicate the whole post to it.

Imagine . . . it's the bottom of the ninth, you're up by one, the other team has a runner on third, there are two outs and it's best hitter at the plate, what do you do? You intentionally walk the hitter and go after the cancer boy who's on deck. This is the brillant strategy utilized by a little league manager in Utah.

This hilarious scenario occurred during the championship game for this league. Cancer boy (I would use his real name, but why humanize him) was the worst hitter on the team for obvious reasons - he sucked and, in the manager's opinion, it made more sense to throw to him rather than the young virile lad whose body appreciated its internal organs. Shockingly Cancer boy struck out and the game was over. Proving that you truly only get one miracle.

The decision to walk the good player and throw at the sickly one has caused an uproar in their little town. On girl who was cheering on cancer boy had this to say, "People were screaming and running. Girls lost their cell phones. Keys got lost. It's something I will never forget."

Cell phones and keys people. Cell phone and keys. God All Mighty when will the insanity end.

The coach who decided to throw at Cancer boy put it all in perspective, "do we lete the kid feel like he's a winner by having the whole league play easy on him? This isn't the Special Olympics. He's not retarded." Actually he isn't retarded yet, the cancer just hasn't made it critical parts of his brain yet.

Here's my problem with the whole situation. Why the fuck would Cancer boy's coach bat him after the best hitter? I am not a baseball fan, but even I know that you pair your best hitter with a complimentary hitter. You got make the pitcher worry about the great hitter in front of him and the very fine hitter coming up next. So, in all actuality Cancer boy's coach is the one the fucked up and fucked over his special little player. Yet no one is vilifing him for his inconsiderate actions.

I know what you're all dying to know. How would good ole MPH handle the situation? Easy, I would bean Cancer boy in the head. It would be cheap to use him as the easy out. Why not disrupt the flow of the other team by simply seeing how long seams from a baseball can be imbedded in the cancer ridden head of a young man?

Okay, enough about Cancer boy, he'll be forgotten soon anyway, but one person who can never be forgotten is Blog Jesus. So let's get to another edition of "And Blog Jesus is Half the Battle." Today's topic: oil.

Blog Jesus says:

Oil is really not that important. Sure you need it to function nowadays, but if everyone in the world tamed a wild horse and made it their own, then no one would need oil anymore. I say don't fix that pipeline in Alaska and invest in horse breeding.

Consider your world a little bit more righter.


Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Insert Mel Gibson/Jew Quip Here

I would like to think Christ for allowing those Christ killers to kill him because without the Jew run media keeping this ridiculuous Mel Gibson alive, good ole' MPH would not have been able to write about it on this fine Wednesday. I have said it before and I will say it again, there is no finer conspiracy than a Jew run conspiracy.

According to published reports a drunken Gibson kinda, sorta blurted out "F---ing Jews. The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world," among other things after being pulled over by the police for speeding and steadfastly believing in Jesus. Since that time, Mr. Gibson has admitted that he is a rummy and knelt before just about every uncircumcized penis across this great land.

I doubt you find this surprising, but I found Mel Gibson's comments hysterical. This is not because I am a fan of anti-Semitic behavior, rather it is because I am a fan of drunken loutishness. Me loves some drunken blather. Did Gibson mean what he said? I think so. People say some incredibly stupid things when they are intoxicated, but those stupid things invoke gargoyles and kitten urine, not the hating on the Chosen People.

My plan for this post was to provide you with some of the awful things that I have said when I am drunk, but I soon realized that more often than not, I am stone cold sober when I say awful things. Sometimes I even write them down for the whole internet to read. Cue the filler:

"You see the fast food joints in my neighborhood are primarily staffed by those of a spicish quality. I am sorry, that was rude, what I meant to say was a likely undocumented spicish quality. This is why the tacos at my Taco Bell are so damn delicious."

“Sirs, in case you are unaware, 'rile the democrats' is another way to say he has women fornicating with donkeys.”

"I saw an ad for a new lid for Kraft mayonaise that is bigger and clips shut. My first thought: now sickos have more room to get their cocks in there."

"Masturbating to the theme of "Growing Pains" won't help Tracy Gold gain back all that weight she had when the series was at the height of its popularity."

How likely is it that they are going to show up to church on any given day? Face facts, if you're "unchurched" the only way you're going to church at all is if you something happens that causes faith to beat you down and make you go - like a child dying in a car accident - otherwise you're nursing your Christmas Eve party hangover or just a hangover from a random night of drinking and mild debauchery.

It's not everyday that the death of civil rights pioneer Rosa Parks takes a backseat to bigger news, but come on folks we are mere days away from the Lucy Lawless tour de force "Vampire Bats." I have not had an erection this magnificent since I learned of a piece of cinema history called "Spring Break Shark Attack."

While I do think is sad that people lost their lives in New Orleans because of Katrina, I am not torn up over each and every death because some of these dumbfucks deserved it. If everybody is screaming "get the fuck out of here," then get the fuck out there. Deciding to weather the storm when you know you live below sea level and you know that some shit is coming at you heavy is possibly the greatest feat of stupidity ever recorded. Those people currently stranded on their roofs because they decided to remain by choice need to be shot or at the very least left there for a few more days to marinate in what now has to be the toxic and shitty water overcoming every inch of their home. Then when they are rescued, they should be shot.

I doubt anyone made it through that reheated shit, but just in case you did, here is another edition of "And Blog Jesus is Half the Battle." Today's topic: the heat.

Blog Jesus says:

I am happily sweating my ass off right now. That's right, I like that it is tremendously hot outside. I have a perfectly good reason for loving this heat - it was all caused by those fine bitches that used a ton of hairspray in the '80's. They just used up all of the ozone. But without that big ass hair they would not have been as fuckable. God fucking bless them and their willingness to spread their legs after only two, count 'em, two beers.

Consider your world a little bit more righter.


Thursday, July 27, 2006

A Gay Old Time . . . With Some Death

Fucking lies. It has all been fucking lies.

Everything I once loved and believed about the cinema classic "On the Line" is complete bullshit. Lance Bass did not want any piece of Emmanuelle Chriqui's ass. He would've rather had my ass. I don't know about you, but just from watching the film's trailer I thought that Mr. Bass and Ms. Chriqui had unique chemistry. It turns out I was wrong, they both just dug the fact that they were wearing the same type of thong. Sigh . . . yet another movie gone to hell because the romantic male lead garbles cock, you would think Hollywood would stop doing that after "Bambi."

Now that I have gotten past the important news of this past week, lets talk about the fact that some demented teen has been shooting at me. Okay, so I wasn't even remotely near the locations were Mr. Teen NRA was taking aim at unaware motorists, but deep down I knew he wanted my tall ass in his sights. Seriously, there are a lot of people and non-people that want me very dead. You have to love this kid's reason for just going out and shooting people - an argument with family over gutting a dear. You don't shoot randoms over a familial deer gutting argument. Such an argument is cause for an uncle to die, but not some dude you don't know. Plus, sniping in this country is strictly reserved for baby killing abortion docs. Read the fucking manual before you go on a rage fueled killing spree.

Although Isreal and Hezbollah are amping up their carnage of one another, we can rest easy knowing that the news will be focusing on the fact that our real enemy, the sun, is putting a hurt on the young and old in California. It's not the pretty white girl being kidnapped scenario that I had hoped for, but I will take 90 heat related deaths as a substitute. By the way, here's a memo to you California fuckers that are dying. Find some shade. Dumbasses.

For the first time in several weeks I am going to try and enjoy a couple of flicks this week. There's nothing out locally that I am dying to see, but there's enough crap out there right now to help me pass some time. Right now I plan on seeing "Pirates of the Caribbean 2" and "Miami Vice." There is a chance that I may catch "An Inconvient Truth" or "Wordplay," but I think types of play with swords and guns will override those choices.

What the fuck . . . none of you care what I plan to do this weekend. Let's get to another edition of "And Blog Jesus is Half the Battle." Today's topic: post partum depression.

Blog Jesus says:

Excellent made up pyscho-babble. I can think of no better excuse for women to use to off those awful harbingers of debt, shit, and broken toys that some people call children. More women should consider giving their children special baths like Andrea Yates did.

Consider your world a little bit more righter.