If you have visited this blog more than once, then it you owe it to yourself to check this out.
http://www.antiobamashop.com/
And we ALL need to thank Woody for passing this along.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Shopping adventures
So I get off work early today and realize that I need some essentials from the store like bacon, bread, the latest issue of Handloader magazine and especially Ultra Plush 4 Ply Charmin asswipe.
Now the market I go to ain't exactly highbrow - it's the kind of place where you can take a dip of Copenhagen in the produce section and nobody will look twice at you. The reason I go there is because it's only a couple of blocks from my house, I've been trading there for better than 10 years and all the clerks know me and, well, I can take a dip of Copenhagen in the produce section if I want.
While I'm in the store I'm picking up some other stuff as well and let me tell you what, that fucking place is PACKED!!! Everybody's out doing their last minute shopping for the big day tomorrow. Hey, I can dig that, I myself had made a run by the bait shop on my way home from work and picked up some Rapalas.
When I'm ready I pick the shortest line which only has about 10 people in it and amuse myself by flipping items from the end-of-aisle merchandise into the cart of the guy in front of me. Anything to make the time pass, you know?
I finally get up to the belt and start unloading my stuff on it and this nicely dressed woman comes charging up past me with a jar of marshmallow creme in her hand, jumps in line in front of me and says "I'm not waiting in line. I only have this one item."
Now, had she asked nicely I would've allowed her to pass if nobody behind me had any objections. But don't be acting like your time is more valuable than mine, okay?
So I tell her "The fuck you ain't, lady. Get your ass to the back of the line."
She acts all shocked like she's never heard anybody say ain't before. C'mon now, it's a common term.
"But all I have is one item!" she says.
"Yeah, and all I got is 23 items. Now git."
Paul, the clerk, is giving the guy in front of me a refund for the 6 packs of gum, chapstick, beef jerky and pepper spray that I tossed in his cart and is trying to ignore the situation.
"Hey Paulie, make this snob go to the back of the line, man."
"Kenny, I'm getting off work in 5 minutes and I don't need this right now. Cool your heels and let her go, please. PLEASE?" he says as he rings her up.
I finally get rung up, bagged up and head for my truck. As I'm wandering along, I notice a Lexus with an Obama sticker in the back window and la-de-da, guess who's behind the wheel giving me a smug-ass smile?
She wasn't smiling for long. A big load of tobacco juice went skidding across her windshield.
And I made sure she got a good look at my Fuck Obama sticker as I was departing.
Now the market I go to ain't exactly highbrow - it's the kind of place where you can take a dip of Copenhagen in the produce section and nobody will look twice at you. The reason I go there is because it's only a couple of blocks from my house, I've been trading there for better than 10 years and all the clerks know me and, well, I can take a dip of Copenhagen in the produce section if I want.
While I'm in the store I'm picking up some other stuff as well and let me tell you what, that fucking place is PACKED!!! Everybody's out doing their last minute shopping for the big day tomorrow. Hey, I can dig that, I myself had made a run by the bait shop on my way home from work and picked up some Rapalas.
When I'm ready I pick the shortest line which only has about 10 people in it and amuse myself by flipping items from the end-of-aisle merchandise into the cart of the guy in front of me. Anything to make the time pass, you know?
I finally get up to the belt and start unloading my stuff on it and this nicely dressed woman comes charging up past me with a jar of marshmallow creme in her hand, jumps in line in front of me and says "I'm not waiting in line. I only have this one item."
Now, had she asked nicely I would've allowed her to pass if nobody behind me had any objections. But don't be acting like your time is more valuable than mine, okay?
So I tell her "The fuck you ain't, lady. Get your ass to the back of the line."
She acts all shocked like she's never heard anybody say ain't before. C'mon now, it's a common term.
"But all I have is one item!" she says.
"Yeah, and all I got is 23 items. Now git."
Paul, the clerk, is giving the guy in front of me a refund for the 6 packs of gum, chapstick, beef jerky and pepper spray that I tossed in his cart and is trying to ignore the situation.
"Hey Paulie, make this snob go to the back of the line, man."
"Kenny, I'm getting off work in 5 minutes and I don't need this right now. Cool your heels and let her go, please. PLEASE?" he says as he rings her up.
I finally get rung up, bagged up and head for my truck. As I'm wandering along, I notice a Lexus with an Obama sticker in the back window and la-de-da, guess who's behind the wheel giving me a smug-ass smile?
She wasn't smiling for long. A big load of tobacco juice went skidding across her windshield.
And I made sure she got a good look at my Fuck Obama sticker as I was departing.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Screwed myself again, but it was fun.
"Um, hey Bro. Do you have plans for Christmas? I know you're alone and I was just wondering if um, maybe, if you don't have any plans for......."
"Well, actually, all I was planning was some fishing for Big Ass Trout" I said.
He looked a little relieved. "Well, would you like to maybe come over for dinner and maybe....."
"What?" I said. "Do I look like I need your fucking charity? I got family, man. Kiss my ass! I got people that love me!!!!"
"Oh shit, I didn't mean any offense, Brother. I just thought maybe......"
Damn, I love fucking with people.
The fishing should be good, I'll have the whole lake to myself.
And Denny's won't be too crowded.........
"Well, actually, all I was planning was some fishing for Big Ass Trout" I said.
He looked a little relieved. "Well, would you like to maybe come over for dinner and maybe....."
"What?" I said. "Do I look like I need your fucking charity? I got family, man. Kiss my ass! I got people that love me!!!!"
"Oh shit, I didn't mean any offense, Brother. I just thought maybe......"
Damn, I love fucking with people.
The fishing should be good, I'll have the whole lake to myself.
And Denny's won't be too crowded.........
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Well, my day is complete
Okay, I changed my home number a month ago due to solicitors calling me up 5-6 times a night. The new number I got is almost as bad. It's not solicitors, it's creditors looking for the guy who had the number before me. But it's no big deal, they only call when I'm at work and they leave one message a day. I figure that one day they'll call when I'm home and I'll catch them and let 'em know Mr. Aaron Prasad no longer has this number.
So today I'm in the bedroom playing solitaire on the computer and my answering machine goes off. I recognize that it's the County Jail by the automated message (my brother-in-law was a professional convict) but I don't catch the name. I figure it's somebody calling to get bailed out and they must be pretty fucking desperate to be calling me. Real urgent, you know?
I play 3 or 4 more games before my curiosity gets the best of me and I wander in and listen to the message. Whattya know, it's Mr. Aaron Prasad!
Hmmmm, I wonder what he did?
I go back to my computer and pull up the County Sheriff website that I have saved to favorites (that brother-in-law thing again) and dammity damn, Mr. Aaron Prasad has a whole shitload of charges against him and not only that, he's been in the lock-up since July. So I write down the penal code charges and then pull up the California Penal Code that I have in my favorites folder (you guessed it, the brother-in-law trip again) and find that Mr. Aaron Prasad been very naughty. All the charges are related to attempted murder and elder abuse.
So I go to the Modesto Bee - give me a break, I was bored - and find out that Mr. Aaron Prasad was arrested for beating his granny and whacking her with a fucking meat cleaver! She survived (barely) and fingered him. He was still covered in her blood when they arrested him.
Well, that's fucked up.
I mean, even if you don't care for Granny, you don't whack her with a meat cleaver. That's just downright rude. You just stick her in an old folk's home if she pisses you off.
Right on cue, the phone rings again and it's Mr. Aaron Prasad. I can't resist this. It's worth the 5 or 10 bucks to twist his mind.
So I follow all the voice prompts and we're connected.
"Hello?"
"What's up fucker? How's jailhouse life?" I'm smiling.
"Hello?"
"Ya already said that."
"Who is this?"
"Who the fuck do you think it is?"
"What are you doing in my house?" His mind is turning fast now.
"It ain't your house anymore. Now it's mine. Why'd you whack your granny with a meat cleaver, ya little bitch?"
"I WANT TO KNOW WHO THIS IS!!!!!"
"Fuck you. You're a real piece of shit, you know that? Your grandma loved you, man."
"YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPP.........."
Click. The line goes dead.
I hope whoever was monitoring the call was laughing as much as I was.
Sleep tight, Mr. Aaron Prasad.
So today I'm in the bedroom playing solitaire on the computer and my answering machine goes off. I recognize that it's the County Jail by the automated message (my brother-in-law was a professional convict) but I don't catch the name. I figure it's somebody calling to get bailed out and they must be pretty fucking desperate to be calling me. Real urgent, you know?
I play 3 or 4 more games before my curiosity gets the best of me and I wander in and listen to the message. Whattya know, it's Mr. Aaron Prasad!
Hmmmm, I wonder what he did?
I go back to my computer and pull up the County Sheriff website that I have saved to favorites (that brother-in-law thing again) and dammity damn, Mr. Aaron Prasad has a whole shitload of charges against him and not only that, he's been in the lock-up since July. So I write down the penal code charges and then pull up the California Penal Code that I have in my favorites folder (you guessed it, the brother-in-law trip again) and find that Mr. Aaron Prasad been very naughty. All the charges are related to attempted murder and elder abuse.
So I go to the Modesto Bee - give me a break, I was bored - and find out that Mr. Aaron Prasad was arrested for beating his granny and whacking her with a fucking meat cleaver! She survived (barely) and fingered him. He was still covered in her blood when they arrested him.
Well, that's fucked up.
I mean, even if you don't care for Granny, you don't whack her with a meat cleaver. That's just downright rude. You just stick her in an old folk's home if she pisses you off.
Right on cue, the phone rings again and it's Mr. Aaron Prasad. I can't resist this. It's worth the 5 or 10 bucks to twist his mind.
So I follow all the voice prompts and we're connected.
"Hello?"
"What's up fucker? How's jailhouse life?" I'm smiling.
"Hello?"
"Ya already said that."
"Who is this?"
"Who the fuck do you think it is?"
"What are you doing in my house?" His mind is turning fast now.
"It ain't your house anymore. Now it's mine. Why'd you whack your granny with a meat cleaver, ya little bitch?"
"I WANT TO KNOW WHO THIS IS!!!!!"
"Fuck you. You're a real piece of shit, you know that? Your grandma loved you, man."
"YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPP.........."
Click. The line goes dead.
I hope whoever was monitoring the call was laughing as much as I was.
Sleep tight, Mr. Aaron Prasad.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Hey Tamra
The link you sent came up as "Error 404" and that's the reason I deleted it. If you have something to send or just want to say hey! hit "View Profile" button on the sidebar, then the "email" button.
Sorry for any misunderstanding. Please visit again.
-Ken
Sorry for any misunderstanding. Please visit again.
-Ken
Yeah, they come cheap now
Thanks, Karen. I'm getting mine next week for not shooting my neighbor for making too much noise with his annual Christmas party.
The Rolling Fucking Stones
I hate the Rolling Stones. I don't just hate the Stones, I violently hate the Stones. Don't ask me why, I can't tell you. I can remember when I was a kid and all the other fuckers were going ga-ga over them, I was gagging over 'em. I know that sounds strange coming from somebody that was a teenager in the 70s but what can I say.
I will freely admit that it's Jagger that I despise. I hate his skinny body, I hate his thick fucking lips, I hate his faggy haircut, I hate the way he dances, I hate his voice, but most of all I hate his fucking high and mighty attitude. And as long as the rest of the band lets him sing for them, I'm hating them too, the pussies.
Let me tell you how much I hate the Stones:
I can be going down the road with the radio down so low that YOU can't hear it and if a Stones song comes on I'll start cussing and turn it off. That ain't bad for somebody that has more than a 50% hearing loss.
I will boycott radio stations that play the Stones. Thank God for CD players.
If I'm in your vehicle and a Stones song comes on and you refuse to change the station, you better stop the truck because I'm bailing out.
If I see a Stones CD in your truck, you just lost it. It's going airborne. Sure, I'll pay you for it but that one's history.
If I'm channel surfing and accidentally catch a glimpse of that fucking punk Jagger's face, my TV screen will get slammed with a beer can.
If I'm at your house and you want me to leave, put the Stones on. I will walk out immediately. You can deliver my coat to me at a later date because I will never grace your doorway with my presence again.
What's really funny is that I have nothing but respect for Keith Richards who is an absolutely brilliant guitarist, but put him with Jagger and the shit is on.
Fuck, I'm getting fired up just writing about them.
I will freely admit that it's Jagger that I despise. I hate his skinny body, I hate his thick fucking lips, I hate his faggy haircut, I hate the way he dances, I hate his voice, but most of all I hate his fucking high and mighty attitude. And as long as the rest of the band lets him sing for them, I'm hating them too, the pussies.
Let me tell you how much I hate the Stones:
I can be going down the road with the radio down so low that YOU can't hear it and if a Stones song comes on I'll start cussing and turn it off. That ain't bad for somebody that has more than a 50% hearing loss.
I will boycott radio stations that play the Stones. Thank God for CD players.
If I'm in your vehicle and a Stones song comes on and you refuse to change the station, you better stop the truck because I'm bailing out.
If I see a Stones CD in your truck, you just lost it. It's going airborne. Sure, I'll pay you for it but that one's history.
If I'm channel surfing and accidentally catch a glimpse of that fucking punk Jagger's face, my TV screen will get slammed with a beer can.
If I'm at your house and you want me to leave, put the Stones on. I will walk out immediately. You can deliver my coat to me at a later date because I will never grace your doorway with my presence again.
What's really funny is that I have nothing but respect for Keith Richards who is an absolutely brilliant guitarist, but put him with Jagger and the shit is on.
Fuck, I'm getting fired up just writing about them.
Happy bathing
The next time you're an overnight guest at somebody's house and you don't bring your own soap, think about this as you're showering:
What's the last thing they washed with that bar of soap and what's the first thing you washed?
What's the last thing they washed with that bar of soap and what's the first thing you washed?
308 ballistics
Okay, a 165 grain boat tail bullet over 52 grains of H414 will give you about 2650 fps at the muzzle (Speer #9) and at a 200 yard zero will give you about 12 inches of drop at 300 hundred yards and 1060 foot pounds of energy. Just thought you might wanna know.....
May you rot in hell
OSWIECIM, Poland – Thieves stole the notorious sign bearing the cynical Nazi slogan "Work Sets You Free" from the entrance to the former Auschwitz death camp on Friday, cutting through rows of barbed wire and metal bars before making their escape through the snow.
The brazen seizure of one of the Holocaust's most chilling symbols brought worldwide condemnation.
"The theft of such a symbolic object is an attack on the memory of the Holocaust, and an escalation from those elements that would like to return us to darker days," Yad Vashem Chairman Avner Shalev said in a statement from Jerusalem.
"I call on all enlightened forces in the world who fight against anti-Semitism, racism, xenophobia and the hatred of the other, to join together to combat these trends."
The 16-foot sign bearing the German words "Arbeit Macht Frei" — "Work Sets You Free" — spanned the main entrance to the Auschwitz death camp, where more than 1 million people, mostly Jews, were killed during World War II.
Why in the fuck would you want to steal this sign? It represents the suffering and pain of a People that has been persecuted since the beginning of time.
I hope that you go tell hell and suffer for all of eternity next to Hitler and all of his cronies.
The brazen seizure of one of the Holocaust's most chilling symbols brought worldwide condemnation.
"The theft of such a symbolic object is an attack on the memory of the Holocaust, and an escalation from those elements that would like to return us to darker days," Yad Vashem Chairman Avner Shalev said in a statement from Jerusalem.
"I call on all enlightened forces in the world who fight against anti-Semitism, racism, xenophobia and the hatred of the other, to join together to combat these trends."
The 16-foot sign bearing the German words "Arbeit Macht Frei" — "Work Sets You Free" — spanned the main entrance to the Auschwitz death camp, where more than 1 million people, mostly Jews, were killed during World War II.
Why in the fuck would you want to steal this sign? It represents the suffering and pain of a People that has been persecuted since the beginning of time.
I hope that you go tell hell and suffer for all of eternity next to Hitler and all of his cronies.
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