For Shame, Milwaukee, For Shame Wisconsin

Evidently, drinking at least two drinks per month puts Milwaukee at the head of the pack Nationwide for 'drunkest city in the country'. Victory by default is never pretty; what kind of losers were competing in this contest, anyway? Where the Hell was Madison during all of this? Or Verona for that matter? I think the Churck should demand some answers, or at least further research.

Doo Doo Series

The old saying says those who can, do, and those who doo-doo, doo-doo. In honor of them, we launch the doo-doo series of Rustywhear.

The distinctive design of the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Rimmed T says it all.

But for those who need to say more, the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Commemorative Stamp lets you send your US Postal Mail in style!!

Or, get the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Framed Tile!! for your office!

And, if you sponsor a children's baseball team, why not outfit them in the Monkey Thoroughing Poo Children's Baseball Jersey

F^CK YOU, Pluto!

Finally, members of the International Asstronomical Union are beginning to follow the directives of the First Unichurck. As go the asstronuts, so go the terrestrialnuts. It is only a matter of time, now, before the alienation becomes inalienable.

Flocking to the Flock

"Please, please do not base your economy on cockfighting."

Nagin calls for Chocolate from the Fed

In an unprecedented and unorthodox move on Friday in Indianapolis, New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin, who has often been accused of wearing a skull prosthesis for effect (people with large, mushroom-shaped bald heads evidently seem smarter than their non-mushroomed counterparts), made a plea to the Federal Government to speed the relief to the Katrina-torn city. What made the request atypical was it's gustatory if not frankly culinary nature: Nagin insisted that he hated the oranges from "Orange County" California because they are too vanilla for him (does he also hate something everyone loves--Creamsicles? We can only speculate), and then proceeded to go right off the deep end by insisting that all future relief dollars be actual chocolate, to fit in with his previous "Chocolate New Orleans" political strategy. As the masturbating metaphor-junkies in the audience really started to spin, Nagin shocked the crowd by responding to a question,

"No, I'm talking about ACTUAL chocolate federal dollars. You know, like the
kind you used to get in your Christmas stocking as a kid. Or if you're Jewish,
given to you by your parents on Channauka as a sort ofpre-conditioning--HA!
That's pretty funny, aint' it? I love the Jews. Come in a little mesh bag. Gold
foil wrappers. Indistinguishable from legal tender until you pop 'em in your
mouth. You all know what I mean.
The larger plan is to create an entire
(Nagin slowed his speech at this point for dramatic effect) CONFECTIONERY
economy, if I may. The long-range plan that I and my advisors have come up with
is to take those chocolate federal dollars (another dramatic pause), and place
them...in the chocolate bank we're presently constructing next to Cafe Du Monde
in the French Quarter--though I may be prone to a few, how should I say,
'personal' deposits into my mouth, if you know what I'm saying-- and
then...simply live off the interest. We could even replace paper money with
beignets if things work out. Maybe a little messy with all that powder, but
worth exploring. It's a well-organized, comprehensive plan, and there's no
Vanilla, if you know what I'm saying."

When asked for comment, OneEar was noted to remark something non-sequitur and essentially unintelligible. But, he stated, University of Wisconsin, Madison,has dropped from number 1 (Number 1? Number 1?) to number 5 in the BigList.

Steroid Use Denied

Renowned blogger OneEar, who persists in writing in the third person, today denied any use of writing-enhancing chemicals.

"I have three extremely large testicles," claimed Ear, "and my writing simply reflects that anatomical reality."

Ear's bodily fluids will be exposed to bleach and a washcloth in order to remove them from the counter-top. Commenting on performance enhancing chemicals, Ear indicated his support for smoking them out. "I do not support mandatory drug testing," indicated Ear. "Recreational drug testing works just fine."

Ear believes this scandal is a distraction from more important issues such as how much money is being spent to kill how many people and at whom Lindsey Lohan is mad.

"This is a sad day for my family and for the sport of writing," read Ear's prepared remarks, "and my only goal is to see how we can all move forward and put this unfortunate episode behind us. Please, for the sake of the children."

New #2 Lives Up To Title

Her Next Friend, the Virginia power trio band best known for its dedicated stance against the number pi, has released its next EP - New #2. http://cdbaby.com/cd/hernextfriend2

To the ear of this reviewer, the band is gressing. There are hints of early Who, some Lou Reed, and a bit of Nirvana lingering around on these tracks, but there is also something new emerging!?! Will it grow, or will it be aborted? What will it be when it matures? Why do they hate circles?

FREE HALEY JOEL

Haley Joel Osmond, youngest of the talented Osmond family, was wrongfully charged with several minor "crimes" yesterday.

According to wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haley_Joel_Osment

On August 17, 2006, TMZ.com reported that Osment was charged with DUI and marijuana possession. At 3:20 that day, Osment was charged with four criminal counts: Driving under the influence of alcohol, driving with a .08 blood alcohol level or higher, enhancement of driving with a .15 or higher, and possession of marijuana while driving. [1]

His trial is scheduled for September 19, 2006 and he could face up to six months in jail if convicted. [2]

You will recall Osmond from that 70's variety show, Haley Joel and Dawn.

Now, I'm no lawyer, but how can it be that driving with a BAC of .16 is two crimes? As to whether it should even be one crime, please refer to my previous posts about Ted Kennedy.

I Had Tears When I Read This

Subject: Two Choices

What would you do? You make the choice! Don't look for a punch line; There isn't one! Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: “Where is the natural order of things in my son?”

“When not interfered with by outside influences, everything the almighty does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shaq, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. And he is 7 feet tall and weighs 300 pounds? Where is the natural order of things in my son?”

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe, that when a child like Shaq, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child." Then he told the following story:

Shaq and his father had walked past a stadium where some people Shaq knew were playing basketball. Shaq asked, Do you think they'll let me play? Shaq's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shaq on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shaq's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shaq could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, “We're losing by sixteen points, and the game is in the fourth period. I guess he can be on our team seeing as how he is extremely large.”

Shaq struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. Shaq's team scored a few points but was still be hind by three. Even though the game was closer, they put Shaq into the game. And even though nobody passed him the ball, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.

As time wound down, Shaq’s team closed the gap and was down by only 1. There was the choice – do they let Shaq stay in the game and risk the chance that he might get fouled and have to shoot free throws or do they pull him?

They left Shaq in the game. The opposing team, recognizing Shaq’s situation, left him unguarded so that he could catch a pass. Then, in an extreme act of kindness, they all mauled him in an obvious foul. Shaq would get to shoot free-throws.

As Shaq stepped up to the foul line to shoot his first shot, the crowd began chanting, “Shaq, Shaq.” His shot was straight as an arrow with very little arc, but after it bricked against the back rimmed and up into the backboard, it miraculously fell through the hoop. Shaq had made a free-throw.

By now, the crowd was in a frenzy. All were screaming, "Shaq, Shaq, Shaq, all the Way Shaq"

Shaq dribbled once, twice, thrice and then held the small basketball in one of his giant hands. His huge arm cocked like a rocket launcher, and he let ball fly like a catapult launching a golf ball. Again, the trajectory was absolutely flat if not slightly downward. The force of the ball impacting the front of the rim not only bounced the ball 20 feet into the air above, but it immediately shattered the plexiglass backboard and caused the rim to fall to the ground below. As the rim clanked onto the floor, with glass falling all around, the ball fell from high above and landed directly in the middle of the hoop. Shaq had won the game!

“That day,” said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, “the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world.”

Shaq never forgot being the hero for a day. Instead of dying, he decided to become a multi-millionaire NBA player despite his handicaps.

AND, NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people think twice about sharing. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people on your address list that aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the "natural order of things." So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up that opportunity to brighten the day of those least able and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

You now have two choices:
1. Pass this inspirational story along to any 7 foot tall 300 pounders that you know; or
2. Forget about this and get back to your spreadsheets.

Which one will you choose?

Pro-Planetary Legislation Needed

The sanctity of planetary existence has been under attack by so-called liberals who would expand the definition of what constitutes a planet. Bucking traditional planetary values, these people would define "planet" in such a way that a horse would qualify as a planet. Should we all go live on a horse?

The International Astronomical Union has proposed a definition of:

a celestial body with sufficient mass to assume a nearly spherical shape that orbits a star without being another star or a satellite of another planet. By this definition, the list of planets in order from the sun now reads: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Ceres, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto-Charon (considered a double-planet system) and the newly discovered and officially unnamed 2003 UB313, otherwise known as Xena.

The committee also proposed a new category of planets, called plutons, be applied to those bodies that, like Pluto, both take longer than 200 Earth years to revolve around the sun and have eccentric orbits outside the typical orbital plane.

The First Unichurck has already made its position clear on this subject. The mistake was in including Pluto instead of Xena in the chosen nine.

But now, these reductio ad absurdists have attacked the whole dignity of planetariness. They want to literally throw the baby out with the bath water, and that is a form of post-birth abortion. The First Unichurck opposes post-birth abortion (with certain exceptions such as telemarketers, e-spammers, and Ted Kennedy).

Let's stop the insanity. If you want to make up a new definition for your little round objects, then so be it. Call them "happy-balls" or "space thingies." But, for the sake of the children, leave our "planet" alone.

Rusty's Unextinct The Rhino Operation

Rusty's Unextinct the Rhino Operation (code Rut-Ro) has begun reanimation processes to re-originate the black rhino. In a sharp split from his past directives, Rusty is now endorsing certain classes of the undead including Saviors and rhinoceri (but not garden variety zombies or accountants).

Rusty's godly directive to "Get f^cked by a rhino" will be analyzed over coming months by the First Unichurck high council. Chief spokesman OneEar has indicated that, in this instance, he would rather that someone else be "the chosen One."

The True Churck has begun stockpiling petroleum jelly, screw drivers, and other prying implements in anticipation of the high council's canonical imperative.

Rhinorevival

I've got it! We'll recreate the now extinct black rhino.

The way I understand Darwinism, somebody needs to f^ck white rhinos and then kill the offspring until a black rhino appears. This is called natural preservation.

Then, somebody needs to f^ck that black rhino and give it all kinds of treats. This is called natural selection. It is how you origin a species.

Get to work, rhino-f^ckers!

Way to Extinguish Another Cool Animal, A$$w!pes.

Well, now you've gone and killed off the Western black rhino. see Western black rhino feared extinct. Way to go, rhino-f^ckers!

Hypoothesis

There was this ape, a very large ape, that escaped from the zoo. It wandered into an upscale hotel, snuck past security, and, after eating some extremely spicy buffalo wings and, apparently, a cigar, it broke into room 519, shat on the floor, picked up both of the occupants, stamped their feet in its sh!t, reset one of their watches back 4 hours, knocked the mirror off of the wall and then took all of the towels and left.

SOS - A Mystery
A Clue

The Following May be a clue to the Mystery:

These strange entries were captured on police radio scanners:

Alceste:
And...there is no more smoking in bars. You need to file a suit on
conventioneers behalf. We just passed that law in BR as well. tsk
tsk. I am free as the wind, just trying to clean up the shit in my
bathroom before the maid is stuck with it. Call me when you are
available.

OneNoteSolo:
You clean up for the maid but not CocoaNoGoGo? The trail of shit stains you
left at his house was epic.... Be careful and do not tape dollar bills to your
fur as a trusting wookieI know once did....

Alceste:
The sad thing is that I did clean up in Chicago--it is just that the job
was so immense. On a similar note,I shit myself last week on I55 in
Mississippi. I was between exits, and the guts were rumbling. I
squeezed and squeezed, and, luckily, made it to an exit. There was an
Exxon a mile down the road, but it was boarded shut. I began to panic, and
tried to go down the other way---bad mistake. My bowels exploded and the
runny brown liquid oozed out everywhere, soiling the seat of kristin's new
Altima with a brown paste. I drove to the back of a church and found an
fence-enclosed air conditioning area. The fence was short, but I had no
choice. I stripped down and attempted to clean myself with a new pack of
Hanes undershirts. It was simply too much poo. Then, a pickup truck
pulled into the lot, but it went to the front of the building. I put on
some other shorts, but the brown evil paste was still everywhere. I put
down one ofHunter's blankets over the shit in the car, and I made it to Taco
Bell and cleaned up in the bathroom, then returned to the church to retrieve my
shit coated clothing. I couldn't leave that for the ac repairman to
discover. I found a convenience store and bought a roll of paper towels
and some Orange Clean. It worked like a charm. Later that evening, I
rinsed the crap-laden clothing out in the hotel tub, but the drain was slow, and
I couldn't get things to flow south. I checked out in the morning, leaving
the stained undershirts in the trash of the hotel room. I felt bad for the
lady who would have to clean the shit up, and feel bad for this lady as well
here in Madison. However, I suppose that is the cost of doing business with a
pig like myself.

Alceste:
Everyone--in an unbelievable sequence of actions, I blasted mud in
the shower this morning, coating the walls and clogging, once again, the
drain. I have been traveling for two weeks, and the food is killing
me.

Now, what could have happened on that famed evening of Wookies and Grizzly bears sleeping in the poopy hotel? Which of the large, furry creatures crapped the floor in this scatological mystery? And left their respective paw prints in the doo? The fact that both had traipsed through the evidence, casually unaware, makes the mystery even more difficult to solve. And, to add insult to injury, Grizzly blames Wookie, and Wookie diplomatically states he can't imagine who could have broken into the room just to do that, force them both to stride through the mess, break the mirror, and steal the towels.

The image of a Grizzly squatting down behind an air-conditioning fence trying to clean liquid turd off his fur is suspicious, thought-provoking, nauseating, yet somehow hysterical. Who can crack the code? This case is sure to go cold.

SOS - A Mystery

It was a weekend like so many others, beautiful sunny weather in an idyllic midwestern city. But, during this weekend, something would go terribly wrong.

It began innocently enough when a middle-aged man, we'll call him Alceste, enrolled in some sort of conference. The conference happened to be venued at the home city of your hero and mine, OneEar.

Thursday evening ended without a splash. The following is excerpted verbatim from Alceste's report:

Just spent the evening in the company of the wookie. Here is my report. We went to the college where they have an immense terrace that serves beer. We heard a band warm up for an hour, play one song, then they put all their shit away. The wookie seemed sober. His back was straight, and he wasn't holding his stomach. He did not break anything, and he said "excuse me" when walking past another table. He did not leave any trails of fur. Is this a ruse? Am I being luled into a situation that could turn ugly? Please advise.

Friday, Alceste apparently reported to his conference and your hero and mine, OneEar aka "the wookie", reported for duty to the office. After spending the day tending to their respective professional obligations, the two reconvened Friday afternoon for the occassion of having OneEar drive one of Alceste's colleagues to a Harley Davidson store (read all over tarnation).

After a few pitchers of beer at a beer garden and a couple of beers at Rusty's tavern, OneEar and Alceste parked at Alceste's hotel, ditched the colleague and set out on foot for some drinking proper. The first stop involved, you guessed it, beer, as well as some extremely spicy buffalo wings. (Note: this clue may or may not be relevant later). The duo continued bar-hopping through the evening and into the night until they returned to Alceste's hotel.

Flash forward 8 hours. It is now 10am on Saturday. "Housekeeping!" is knocking at the door. OneEar awakes, checks his watch which reads 6:00am, and wonders aloud, "What the f&ck?" "Occupado," he yells.

Looking down, OneEar notices that he is still fully clothed except for his shoes, but there is what appears to be sh!t all over his feet and bedsheets. "What the f&ck?" He takes a second look around the room. Alceste is beginning to rustle in his bed. Good, he is still alive. The large hotel mirror has been knocked off the wall and the door to the adjacent room is open.

OneEar sits up and notices that Alceste too has what appears to be sh!t all over his feet and bedsheets and there is a large wiped up mess of what appears to be sh!t all over the carpeting at the foot of Alceste's bed.

"Alceste, What the f&ck?"

"I don't know," says Alceste.

"What happened here?" wonders OneEar.

"I don't know," says Alceste.

"Well clean that sh!t up."

Alceste returns from the bathroom with one wet washcloth and throws it on the pile of diarrhea. "We should go," he says.

OneEar goes into the bathroom to wash his feet in the tub. "Where are all of the towels," he asks when he is done.

"I don't know," says Alceste. "We should go."

So, after leaving their last $5 for housekeeping (Not nearly enough), Alceste went down to check out promptly and OneEar proceeded to the parking garage to pull the car around and they left the mystery behind them.

What could have happened?

On Adfinitem

The alien nation is building.

The Verfremdungseffekt for Vendetta initative of the First Unichurck is nearing culmination of the test stage. It is time to renew. Members are invited to re-member. Judgment is passed. Only in this way can the FU make sense.

The Clowns have emerged from behind the painted smile to reveal their inherent anarchy. These are not characters. The sound they produce is not music, unless music is irony.

None will be held against their will, for they have no will. All are left alienated eventually, zombies one-upped by partial bodies with gelatinous souls.

Is this a comedic war? Are we really at war? Who then the Warrior?

What is the Clown without the mask? What is the revolt without the humor?

On War

von Clausewitz' classic treatise On War begins with the simple question, "What is War? (Was ist der Krieg)" He answers that question a mere paragraph later with the statement, "War therefore is an act of violence to compel our opponent to fulfil our will." (J.J. Graham translation, 1873).

Note that "our will" and "our opponent" assume a "we" with consensus. This assumed consensus is problematic in societies with diffused power and various agendas. If "we" cannot agree on our intentions, we do not have a shared will to fulfil. This is the principle reason why we are failing in the war on Iraq, the war on terror, and the war on poverty.

Let's take the most important case, the war on poverty. In that case, the opponent is poverty. Poverty is defined as "the state of having little or no money and few or no material possessions". So, now we know which state to attack.

What is the appropriate act of violence? We could choose beheading or cutting off nipples like the ancient Irish? Or, we could blow up some cities like more contemporary warriors. Before deciding how to hurt the state of poverty, we must decide what we want to compel poverty to do.

What is "our" will? Let us assume that our will is to enrich ourselves. By that I mean enrich myself. I don't give a damn about you (for rhetorical purposes). But what of your desire to enrich yourself? When we try to determine the appropriate act of violence to compel the state of poverty to fulfil "our" will, we run smack dab into the concept of "me."

The solution to this dilemma is the immediate suspension of any and all dissention. We need to be united in our violence. Remember, there is no "I" in "team," but there is a "me" "met" "mate" "at" "meat" "tea." That sounds like something a monkey could be taught to say by sign language.

von Clausewitz' model tries to "emphasise the necessary and general, and to leave a margin for the play of the particular and accidental; but to exclude all that is arbitrary, unfounded, trifling, fantastical; or sophistical."

Now do you see the big mistake?

On Weeeee

Our friend Alceste (motto: mihi in odi est) has been noticeably absent from FU services for the last few months. His absence corresponds suspiciously with his new employment. Does anyone believe in coincidence any more? I didn't think so.

This caused me to ponder the larger question - Is gainful employment anathema to the True Churck?

In order to enable myself to answer this pressing question, I turn to the dictionary in order to figure out what "anathema" means:

anything laid up or suspended; hence anything laid up in a temple or set apart as sacred. In this sense the form of the word is _anath(ee)ma_, once in pluralused in the Greek New Testament, in Luke 21:5, where it is rendered "gifts." In the LXX, the form _anathema_ is generally used as the rendering of the Hebrew word "herem", derived from a verb which means

(1) to consecrate or devote; and

(2) to exterminate.

Now we're getting somewhere. I've been looking for a verb that means both to consecrate and to exterminate. This is sort of like loving someone to death. That happened to my pet frog when I was a kid.

I still am left to wonder - is Alceste's absence the result of a shunning? You will note from the linked article that Jehovah's Witnesses apparently use shunning to "disfellowship" members who stray from the flock. I believe JW's "disfellowship"may be the derivation for the phrase "Don't `dis' me motherf^cker!"

Alceste, I'm not sure who is the shunner and who is the shunnee in this instance, but I think it is time to refellowship. Otherwise, I'm going to anathematize your ass.

On Tolo Gee

Coco is missing, and the time-honored tolo dance is being turned into a freak show. Coincidence?

Tolo is another name for the Sadie Hawkins dance. This is a tradition whereby, in a vast role-reversal, the women have control over who gets laid. At Mountlake Terrace High School, the tolo girls opted for everyone on the dance floor. According to news reports, they engaged in "freak dancing" which:

involves bumping, grinding, dancing back to front, bending over and more.

This, of course, brought Coco immediately to mind. Let me say at the outset that I have never supported the right of young people to bend over, and I don't want my comments to be misconstrued to the contrary. If I had my way, all teenagers would be strapped to boards.

But dancing back to front really is something to see. I have witnessed Coco dancing back to front, (by himself of course), and I cannot begin to describe the look of shocked horror on the faces of all of the other dancers.

It leads one to ask, when does an activity cease being a dance and start being a chase/flee? Amor Fati, the love of faith, exemplifies Coco's ontology and the way he finds meaning in life through dance. But must it be such a dirty faith?

To Florida

Bodaciousa

Important Boudica discussion

FU Courts Alien Abduction

Leadership of the First Unichurck has been scratching its collective heads of late, trying to think of ways to grow the organization. But the FU just cannot seem to cook up the recipe for success. And this has FU leader OneEar nonplussed.

"We have a website, and shirts and a bulletin and a collection plate," said OneEar. "What do Jesus, Joseph Smith, Jerry Falwell and David Koresh have that we don't have?" The obvious answer: followers.

In an effort to correct this discrepancy, churck leadership has adopted a new membership recruitment plan: alien abduction.

"Remember that white-haired nut that was following a comet," recalled OneEar, "he had followers." "If a few of our members get abducted by aliens," speculated OneEar, "we will have followers out the yin yang."

Toward that end, FU leaders are encouraging members to drive on deserted country roads late at night in old vehicles with AM radios. When the radio dial begins turning itself through channels, jump out of the vehicle, disrobe, and prostrate yourself.

"Yep," said OneEar, "that should do it."

Dead Sex Week

FU Very Much

The First Unichurck has become quite an institutionalized institution, and so have its members. (When I say members, generally speaking, I am not speaking about penises. I call those stiffies. However, when I speak about working stiffs, I am referring to employed zombies and, again, not penises. Employed zombies, or working stiffs, are a..., wait Now, where was I?).

Oh yes, members. FU members include some outstanding specimens with large, throbbing credentials: doctors and lawyers and such. What the FU has been doing thus far seems like a large, stinking, smoldering pile of waste of all of this accumulated education. You can probably see where I am going with this - an orgy of the dead.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, perhaps I should start over.

This is a case about the deepest, most cherished and most human of all human emotions; confusion! Some may say that confusion is not a human emotion or that it is not deep. They are deeply confused humans. Do you see how I trapped them?

And so, I propose that we set aside our penis references and our efforts to terminate the employment of zombies. Instead, we should strive to share our confusion and to spread that confusion near, far and deep, literally and figuratively. (When I say literally, I mean figuratively).

You are probably asking yourself, is he going to get back to the penises and the zombies and the orgy? No, no I am not. That will be saved for Sunday's FU service.

Instead, I will move on to the topic at hand. We are now commencing our FU Advice Service Society. FU ASS is a way to get around the traditional billing system, to "back door" if you will into a professional without having to pay for it. It seems like a very religious and charitable thing to do and so, I will invite Dr. Bok to begin with some general FU ASS advice.


***FU ASS is not a substitute for traditional personalized professional services. Think of it as a second or even third option. A person who disregards this warning does so at his/her/transgender's peril.

FU Reminder - 4th of July is Now In March

This is a reprint of a classic Rustism which originally aired at a previous time. The First Unichurck urges followers to pooh pooh the hooplah until March 11th when we officially celebrate July 4th.


Rusty Enterprises Corporation Limited Inc. (RUE) announced yesterday its initiative to move the 4th of July to March 11th. RUE CCC OneEar, who insists on writing in the third person, indicates that the company sees unlimited upside potential associated with the move.

"In July, it doesn't get dark until maybe 9:30, so the kids have to stay up way too late to watch the fireworks," said Mr. Ear. "Darkness falls much earlier in March. Plus, the kids are all bundled up so they are much less likely to get burned by the bonfire or the fireworks. Have you ever stepped on a sparkler rod with your bare foot? Wouldn't happen in March."

Ear also cited the reduced fire hazard resulting from snow and or rain. "The 4th of July simply is not a prudent time to hold the 4th of July," said Ear, "and I think we all know that."

Underminers Present First Annual BBQ

The Underminers Society of America is holding its First Annual "What Are You Eating Under There?" Holiday Barbecue today. Members of the secretive society spent the last few days making final preparations including digging potti-pits and filling their recently completed moat with charcoal briquets.

The "ring of fire," as they call it, is now ready for some serious cooking. Bring what you will, throw it in the ring and watch it "burn, burn, burn."

For an entrance fee of only $20, participants can also participate in the many fun and educational activities. Experience 19th century coal miner land, 20th century coal miner land, and 21st century coal miner land, all in the same shaft. Learn why the free press must be silenced if totalitarianism is to have any hopes of success. Dig a hole and then fill it up. It is a fun filled extravaganza for the "whole" family!!!!

Thuperman

Hope this complies with the gasbag, or whatever it's called, movie review regulations.

There were some real 2006 themes to this latest iteration of the classic WWII anti-Nazi (sorry Ono) DC Comics hero. Openly "happy" director Bryan Singer (X-Men) has put together a good, though long, long, long ("happy" people like it long, or so I'm told) movie with some intriguing subplots. Let's get right to it:

1. Superman is gay. Between Lex Luthor "stabbing him in the back" with his "blade of Kryptonite" and his completely gauche fashion sense, the viewer is constantly nudged toward this conclusion. The viewer is also asked to see Superman as a representative of the superbeing hidden away in the souls of all closeted homosexuals. 'If only he could be set free! Where is that closet key?' Feces. But there's one little problem with this conclusion. One little five-year-old problem, which leads us to subplot #2

2. Superman has a kid. Well, that certainly calls into question the conclusion of #1, but, everyone makes mistakes, right? If you drink too much tequila in Tijuana, you might get drunk enough to pork a donkey, right? I'm sure he didn't enjoy that slut, Lois Lane. Just because you lay on your back and open your legs doesn't make you attractive, does it? Maybe she left her shirt on and lay on her stomach. We may never know.
The trouble is, the kid is a snot-nosed, spastic asthmatic with every allergy known to man, a-la-daycare poster-child for 2006. Superman was raised on a farm and milked cows (cows, not brokeback cowboys) and his kid is a cellphone-toting, Gucci backpack-wearing helpless little twerp, which is mere subterfuge to get the viewer to logically conclude that the boy is the son of the wiener-faced boss's son. (This guy also played the wiener-faced cuckold in our "happy" director's other superhero movie, X-Men--do you think his Happiness is subtley mocking the futility of the traditional familial male role in society? Talk about type-casting for wiener-face--two superhero movies with the same director in the same season, and he's getting screwed over by his woman in both movies. Wow. Sorry Ono, but he DOES look a LOT like you.) Which brings us to the third, and final for now (wheeew!) subplot,

3. The Man of Steel is an evolutionary parasite, rather than the openly symbolic Christ-figure (His father gave his only son to save humanity, etc., blah-blah, you got it in the first few movies). Please refer to #2: Thuperman goes straight for a night, supersperm knock-up that drunken floozy reporter-lady, but he's just playing! Even when he finds out that the kid's his--the child's first super-act is to kill a man with a piano (nice fathering, Superfag)--he basically tells Lois, in his Peter-Pannist tone and tights,
'Good luck! Heeheee! Let wiener-face raise him and be his "dad". Heehee!'
I mean, I hate wiener-face as much as the next guy, but he doesn't deserve to have his DNA propagation ripped off by a sneaky, shitty slight-of-hand (voice of Lois Lane, harlot extraordinaire, 'Oh, of course he's your son, Richard. Did I ever love Superman? Everyone loved Superman. Especially during his Saturday night super orgies. Except me. I never did.' Sheeah. Right. Ho.) Wiener-face will never get another role in Hollywood; he'll always play the victim of Luke Longdick.

So, in summary, a very "modern" version of a WWII classic. Well-done, and the homosexual undercurrents certainly make it thought-provoking. Worth the ten bucks.

Underminers Digging Selves Into Whole Lot of Trouble

The Underminers' Society is really starting to get on the nerves of God. First, they tracked mud all over the vestibule after having been asked nicely (and then warned). Then, there were three Basic Freedoms missing after last week's meeting. I didn't want to say anything about it out of fear of being rude, but they didn't walk off by themselves, now did they?

The straw that sucked the camel's wack was when they dug a trench around the FU sunken garden. Practice? Why do you need to practice digging a trench?

We are trying to be hospitable, and we can certainly use the income to pay off some of our debt. But let's be reasonable about this. You are making a mess out of our sacred sacrament.

Getting Back to Marxism

On behalf of the First Unichurck's newfound dedication to screwing the rapture and embracing the dialectical imperative, I have been doing extensive research. You are welcome.

Below is a magnificent treatise I discovered which is directly on point. I have quoted it verbatim from the archive where I discovered it.

Theses On Groucho Marxism
by Bob Black

Groucho Marxism, the theory of comedic revolution, is much more than a blueprint for crass struggle ... In other words, comedy is riotous or it is nothing! So much to do, so many to do it to! On your Marx, get set--go!

Let's get back to Marxism for a moment

(with all due respect to that clickety-clackety trooper, Mila)


WASHINGTON, DC - Congress is considering sweeping legislation, which provides new benefits for many Americans. The Americans With No Abilities Act (AWNAA) is being hailed as a major legislation by advocates of the millions of Americans who lack any real skills or ambition.

"Roughly 50 percent of Americans do not possess the competence and drive necessary to carve out a meaningful role for themselves in society," said Barbara Boxer. "We can no longer stand by and allow People of Inability to be ridiculed and passed over. With this legislation, employers will no longer be able to grant special favors to a small group of workers, simply because they do a better job, or have some idea of what they are doing."

Sen. Boxer pointed to the success of the US Postal Service, which has a long-standing policy of providing opportunity without regard to performance. Approximately 74 percent of postal employees lack job skills, making this agency the single largest US employer of Persons of Inability.

Private sector industries with good records of nondiscrimination against the inept include retail sales (72%), the airline industry (68%),and home improvement "warehouse" stores (65%) The DMV also has a great record of hiring Persons of Inability. (63%)

Under the Americans With No Abilities Act, more than 25 million "middle man" positions will be created, with important-sounding titles but little real responsibility, thus providing an illusory sense of purpose and performance.

Mandatory non-performance-based raises and promotions will be given to
guarantee upward mobility for even the most unremarkable employees. The
legislation provides substantial tax breaks to corporations which maintain a significant level of Persons of Inability in middle positions, and gives a tax credit to small and medium businesses that agree to hire one clueless worker for every two talented hires.

Finally, the AWNA ACT contains tough new measures to make it more
difficult to discriminate against the Nonabled, banning discriminatory
interview questions such as "Do you have any goals for the future?" or
"Do you have any skills or experience which relate to this job?" "As a Nonabled person, I can't be expected to keep up with people who have something going for them," said Mary Lou Gertz, who lost her position as a lug-nut twister at the GM plant in Flint, MI due to her lack of notable job skills. "This new law should really help people like me." With the passage of this bill, Gertz and millions of other untalented citizens can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Said Senator Ted Kennedy, "It is our duty as lawmakers to provide each
and every American citizen, regardless of his or her adequacy, with some
sort of space to take up in this great nation."

Lie Down, Little Mila

Coco's dog Mila was a good dog. She will be missed and, to the extent that his young son impersonates the spunky little girl, I am glad that her spirit lives on.

I am lucky enough to have gotten to know Mila over the past 15 years. I remember a time when, for some reason that was never clear to me, my assigned sleeping location was the kitchen floor at Coco's house. Everyone else had a bed or a couch or a deflated blow-up of some sort for comfort. I was given an old musty rug, one corner of which was wadded up to form my pillow, the remainder my blanket.

When I awoke the next morning, who was lying on the floor, sharing my rug cuddled next to me? Three gorgeous naked women? No. A deflated blow-up? No. It was Mila. We both stretched lazily, shared a knowing glance, and then ambled across the kitchen floor for a bowl full of kibble. Yes, Mila was a sharing dog.

Like her master, Mila was a sporting dog. Ball in the mouth, tail end wagging vigorously, romping wildly through the grass - and Mila was the same way. Oh, she was a runner.

And in her final days, Mila was a pacing dog. I sensed her nervousness during our last visit, and I'm quite sure she could understand the conversation as we discussed her health condition and "the options." "Click, click, click" as she paced from room to room unable to find comfort. That was very sad.

Now, Mila has found peace, and she lies in a special place, cuddled up in an old musty rug with the deity of her choice.

Dead Dog May Still Be Barking

My 12-month-old son said his first word the other day. "Mila" he uttered unmistakably. The only issue is that Mila was the name of our dog who we had just "put to sleep" earlier that day.

Is it possible that Mila is trying to speak to us from beyond? Has our son now become possessed with the spirit of our dead dog?

If anyone out there has had any experience with such a situation, please tell me what to expect next and please indicate if there are any special signs for which I should be watching.

Also, OneEar you may want to dust off the Unichurk exorcism rites.

Thanks.

Underminers Society Sewing Its Oaths

Members of the Underminers Society, the secretive burrowing group that now meets at the FU Annex on Saturday evenings, began a Friendship Hankie fundraiser project last week. Throughout history, folk-artistic social groups have sewn individual cloth squares which are later joined to form a large group quilt called a "friendship blanket."

Inspired by this concept, the Underminers launched their Friendship Hankie project. The hankie was originally chosen over the blanket as the medium of expression because it is smaller and much easier to carry in a pocket. However, the cloth hankie was seen as irrelevant in today's disposable society.

For that reason, and because they are more adept at tunneling than at sewing, the Underminers quickly adapted their project to modern technology. Underminers Friendship Hankies are modern, 3-ply white tissue papers upon which very personalized messages have been written in permanent ink.

Many Underminers use their "Snotsheets" as they call them, to describe their innermost thoughts on topics ranging from their own shortcomings to the shortcomings of their parents and even society at large. It is hoped that these will be hot sellers, and the proceeds will be applied toward the purchase of a shovel.

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EDITORIAL: We, at the First Unichurck, wish the Underminers the best in this endeavor. We know that some FU members also belong to the Underminers, and, based upon what we know about them so far, we acknowledge your right to belong to both groups. It is not clear to us why the Underminers have their bizarre initiation rite during which they take a hideous blood oath to a pagan deity, but, other than that, they seem pretty innocuous, ableit a bit dusty.

Das Krapital Forthcoming

Coco makes a good point. Screw armageddon! There really is no point to the end of time. Plus, I'm tired of warning you and of saving your asses.

Let's get on with the revolution!

Becoming a Marxist; Pointers sought

Discontent for my job has developed into disdain for work in general. As a result, I have thought about becoming a Marxist.

Would anyone out there be able to point me in the right direction toward achieving this? Is there a home-study course?

Is there a health plan for Marxists?

Thanks in advance for the help.

Your pal,
CNG

FU Candidates on Your Ballots

Theocracy is all the rage these days. Some democracies create a separation between religion and government. Fortunately, in the United States, this partition has been demolished. The current evangelical craze has greased the chute, and a minority of religious fanatics is now in a position to thrust itself into the anus of power. The First Unichurck has set its brown eyes firmly on that target.

This nation was founded on religious principles: burn the witches, kill the dark skinned, own the women, beat the children. These principles were very hard on our forefathers, but, thankfully, they were willing to bear the burden. Somehow, (and I think it had to do with those damn hippies in the 1960s), our country lost its guiding light. The First Unichurck is here to torch things back to piety.

To recap, the end is coming and our society needs leaders with illogical sadistic beliefs.

I think we can help with that. The First Unichurck has developed a two-legged stool upon which to seat the doomsday government:

1. Re-education initiative. Using techniques gleaned from A Clockwork Orange, we shall re-educate television viewers with "beliefs" designed to return this great nation to the religious zealotry that we all miss so much. Computre programmers will then secretly incorporate their value system into the computer code. Which brings us to:
2. "Voting" Machines. We believe that people will accept voting machines with absolutely no record or means of corroboration. We know it sounds ridiculous, but our research shows that people can be easily convinced simply by saying, "What are you, some kind of a conspiracy theorist?"

We call this program, "Giving voters the number one and the number two," and it is signalled by showing the middle finger of first one hand and then the other in a sign of solidarity.

So remember, when you attend candidate rallies this fall, keep an eye out for the secret signal and then give em the old FU salute!

Underminers Society Now Meets at FU

Let's give a big FU welcome to the Underminers Society of America. The USofA, like the Masons or the Elks, is a fraternal organization (which now recognizes women).

The Underminers were founded in 1925 when renowned burrower Cecil “Digger” Digston invited two business associates to dig underground tunnels from their businesses to his system of shafts which thereby created history’s first recorded “networking opportunity.”

From those humble beginnings, the Underminers eventually grew into a multi-state society. The group continues to promote tunneling and other types of burrowing but has also expanded into crawl spaces, pits, and even the occasional cellar.

Meetings of the Underminers will be held regularly each Saturday at the FU annex. Hardhats are recommended as are lights and string.

The New Rusty

American Idle

Concerns have been expressed, disquietudes disquieted, and apprehensions unapprehended about the current depiction of our savior, Rusty.

It is no easy task to create a cartoon representation of the source of all life and soul, especially when he is a one-eared, slightly incompetent sheep. Thus far, the Churck has allowed him to be depicted by his enemies.

You will recall the famous volley in the cartoon crusades when Rusty was depicted with a pickle and a sausage and a thought. In a variation of "turn the other cheek," the Churck mooned his detractors by embracing their image of Rusty. A complete line of Rustywhear soon followed, designed and distributed by RUE, Inc., a faith-based initiative. However, apparently not all followers of the True Churck see the wisdom of this strategy. As mentioned, we have received countless concerns, disquietudes and apprehensions which I will not bother to count.

At the recent meeting of the high Churck council, all of the attending bishops got drunk, fell down and acted stupid. Bishop Busty Foxxx of Detroit did not even bother to attend. Thus, the problem remains unresolved. Please submit your proposed images of his holiness and we will take them under advisement.

Sports Enthusiast Shocked to Learn that North Carolina Even Had Hockey Team

I am one of those guys who knows a little bit about everything. Like a freshly fertilized field of dreams, I am a mile wide and an inch deep. In some places, I am even shallower.

So I was shocked to learn, while watching Sportscenter last night, that the North Carolina something-or-others defeated the Edmonton Oilers to win the NHL Stanley Cup last night. Shocked that a Canadian team is in the "National" Hockey League? No, I forgave that discordance at the skates of Wayne "The Great One" Gretzky.

Shocked that they are playing hockey in June? Well, yes, that is weird.

But the really stupefying surprise is that there is a hockey team in North Carolina!?! When in the froach did that happen? They showed several minutes of guys skating around holding up the big Stanley Cup cup. I will say one thing for the iNHL, they do have a cool trophy.

Anyway, my latest research project is to try to figure out the team name for this mysterious bunch. They wear red shirts with a giant swirl on the front. Swirlies? That seems like a strange name for a hockey team. But then again, who plays hockey in North Carolina in June?

FU Weekly

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY.

President Bush Makes Secret Trip to My Half-Bath

United States President George W. Bush made a top-secret trip to the half-bathroom off of my kitchen last night. Bush's lightning trip was cloaked in extreme secrecy and security to the extent that absolutely nobody knew about his visit. Even members of his cabinet were unaware of his visit, and the administration has not explicitly mentioned the excursion. Still, I know he was there.

Buy With a Little Help From My Friends

I need a little help here. My latest "get rich quick scheme" is to write a biography about our next President. The logistical problem, which you have probably already diagnosed, is that I don't know who to write about.

I considered writing biographies about all of the likely contenders. That, however, seemed like a lot of writing, and I don't really like to write.

Next, I considered writing a generic biography using the name "NEXTPRESIDENT" which I could then find/replace with the appropriate name. That also seemed like too much work. Plus, I like to personalize my work.

So, I am left with the only remaining solution - accurately predict the future. This too seems like too much work, so I would prefer that you do this part and I will do the rest. (I reserve the right to ask you to do some of the rest later).

"Las Vegas Revue" Not in Las Vegas and Not a Revue

It has come to my attention that there is a discotheque just North of Chicago which goes by the name "Las Vegas Revue." As I mentioned, the location of this particular hotspot is North of Chicago. It is, therefore, not located in Las Vegas. This is simply geographic incompetence.

The greater offense is perpetrated by the fact that the Las Vegas Revue is NOT a revue. A "revue" is defined as "a musical show consisting of skits, songs, and dances, often satirizing current events, trends, and personalities."

I have it on good authority that the Las Vegas Revue hosts no skits or songs. There are dances but they are not very satirical. In short, the Las Vegas Revue is guilty of false advertising.

A person might be driving down the road thinking, "Las Vegas Revue?, maybe I'll stop in here to catch a skit." Upon learning of the $20.00 cover charge, the person might say, "Boy, that is expensive, but it will be worth it to see a good lampooning of our current political leaders." After entering and ordering a beer, the person might be shocked to learn that no alcohol is served and that there is a one drink minimum. "Ok, I guess I'll have a $12.00 Pepsi," the person is likely to say. "It will be worth it to see some satirical personalities." This person is in for a surprise.

This happened to a friend of mine, and he was sorely disappointed by the lack of satirical personalities. There were people dancing. In fact, people kept asking for a "private dance." This flies in the face of the "revue" concept.

A revue is a SHOW. You need costumes. These people had no costumes. You need public spoofery. These people were spoofing in private. You need burlesque. Well, admittedly they did have burlesque. But they were missing all of the other finer elements of a revue.

It is the classic bait and switch.

Look--how about some practical reviews?

Alright, these "gasbag" reviews of "books" are nice and everything, but who really needs practical advice about whether or not to read a book? I think we all know the answer to that question.

So, why not have a review of some recent movies? That way, you may save some money waiting for the DVD release.

Let's start with X-Men III, The Last Stand. Huge potential, miserable disappointment. The first two really were comic booky, this one is as gay as pink on parade. Save your money. The only potential saving grace was Dr. Jean Grey, who is exceptionally hot, but she seemed to have some sort of skin and eye problem in this episode.

Let's move next to, and wrap up with, Thank you for smoking . Worth the ten bucks just to see Tom Cruiseseses' wife faking sex with a non-Christian scientist. Great dark humor.

Next time: Girls Gone Wild, Co-ed Try-outs.

Wise-ass Virgins and Godesses

The latest? Sporadic Gasbag Review lived up to the billing - it was sporadic. See Ms. Keeks' review of City of Lights . Telling the gripping tale of an adopted daughter's struggle to write a timely review, Ms. Keeks delves into topics ranging from virgins to heroin. I couldn't help but think, perhaps they should build a real City of Lights.


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Word Whores
Under the pretense of reviewing Full Speed, Attila the Mom, aka Lilwalnutbrain, uses this week's bag of gas as a literary excuse to criticize ghost writers. For shame! Is there anything ignoble about being a prostitue? If feminism has taught us anything, it is that feminism apparently hasn't taught us anything.

Where would Nancy Drew be without Edward Stratemeyer? Who would ever remember author Jack Kennedy without Ted Sorensen? And what about a God putting his "me too" on the literary works of Matthew, Mark, Luke et al?

I personally would never stoop to writing for money. Go ahead and tempt me with an eight-figure book deal and see how I handle it. No, my credibility is not for sale! But, just out of curiousity, how much is eight figures?


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Nightmare on Phlegm Street

Nightmare54, a gasbag expert in the odor of cattle feces, aimed his sensitive nostrils at the big screen this week and took a big whiff. His verdict on the stench emanating from Uptown Girls? Ladies and gentlemen, we have bullshit.

If I am not correct, and often I don't, Uptown Girls is a movie adaptation of a song by the piano man himself, Billy Joel Osmond, eldest of the talented Osmond family. But wait a minute! After bashing the movie for several paragraphs, Nightmare gave us a glimpse of some of the content:

In one scene Brittney would be wearing tights under a see through
skirt and then you would catch a glimpse of her G-string then the tights would
flash back in place…and let’s face it, who doesn’t like to look at panties? They
are sexy, and when they are slightly covered up….that is HOT!!

This movie sounds like a wonderful exploration of the human condition - a veritable classic. I'm beginning to doubt the bullshit smeller's bullshit smellability.

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Sven Rescues JT Rowling From Obscurity

This week's gasbag review is by Sven. Bucking the gasbag directive to avoid obscure material, Sven stole into the depths of the unknown to emerge with "Harry Potter and the Giblet of Fire." According to Sven, the book portrays the life and times of "prepubescent imps and magical little friends." This may explain why I'm not familiar with the book insofar as I'm sure it would not be permitted on my Court-approved reading list.

But while we're on the subject of Gimlets of Fire, here is my favorite recipe:

2 oz Vodka
1/2 oz lime juice.
Splash of tabasco.

Mixing instructions: Mix together.

Best served in a goblet.

................................................
Compulsive Liar Seeks Truth
http://unabashedliar.blogspot.com/2006/04/truth-about-diamonds.html

This week, sweet young Meg, a self-described compulsive liar, reviews The Truth About Diamonds by Nicole Richie. See Meg's review. As we all know, Nicole Richie is the somewhat trampy daughter of singer Lionel Richie. Her claim to fame is being the somewhat trampy heroin-using sidekick of the somewhat trampy Hilton family heiress. Together, they took the Green Acres/City Slickers concept to an all new high in low through their somewhat trampy show A Simpleton's Life.

I had no idea that Richie was also a somewhat trampy author. I recall an FCC brou-ha-ha about her saying "F~ck!ng Sh!t" during some live TV broadcast, but I didn't know that she writes her own material.

From Meg's review, I gather that Richie's literary creation is only semi-fictional.

But is it real or is it fiction? I kept asking myself. Oh well. I guess I'll never know. I do, however, know that this book met my expectations almost exactly. I expected the book to suck, and guess what. It sucked.

If Richie wrote a book that sucked, I would assume that it is an autobiography.

-----------------------------------------

British Saint Reviews Poppy Book
This week's gasbag review by St. Jude of a book called Tall Poppies, never answers the central question:

Do tall poppies make you higher?

On behalf of the flock, I will look into it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Brilliant review of What to Expect When You're Expecting by the inpenetrable OneEar

---------------------------------------------

Sporadic Gasbagger is MIA
The premise - each week, an Sporadic Gasbagger will review an awful book, movie or television. The problem - one of the SGR reviewers is missing and presumed dead. The solution - Attila the Mom pointed readers to a post about a Scotsman and his family.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A Sporadic Gasbag's Impressions of the Film AI
This week's sporadic gasbag review's the movie AI. You will remember this film from the stellar performance by Haley Joe Osmond, the youngest of the talented Osmond family. Although I am no fan of the "boy robot befriends male prostitute" movies, I do not share the gasbag's fervent dislike for this particular film. Granted, one might have expected more from a Spielberg written and directed version of a Kubrick vision, but, then again, they can't all be Eyes Wide Shut.

First Unichurck Finds a Home

Fellow FUCkers;

I would like to invite us all to fellowship in a house of worship made entirely of legos.

Get a load of this.

I think this will be perfect for our next retreat.

OneEar Forced to Re-live Superhero’s Reunion in Excruciating Detail

MrsEar and I had the pleasure of spending 6 hours in the car together yesterday as we drove to and fro to drop off the little Ears with GrandmaEar and GrandpaEar. This provided the opportunity for the little exchange that I like to call “Probe the Ear.”

It is not nearly as exciting or tantalizing as it sounds. Rather, it is an exercise in intense interrogation and the defense thereto. It combines a fishing expedition for information with a fact check for inconsistencies with an opportunity for censure. Other couples call this “conversation.” MrsEar calls it, “How was your weekend?”

MrsEar: So, how was your weekend?
OneEar: Fine.
MrsEar: What did you guys do?
OneEar: “The Usual”
MrsEar (suspiciously): Why did you make those quotation marks in the air when you said “the Usual?”
OneEar: I don’t know.
(Long pause)
MrsEar (resuming a pleasant but cautious tone): Where did Mrs. Coco and the little Coco’s go while you guys were in town?
OneEar: I think they went to a waterpark.
MrsEar: Who did they go with?
OneEar: I don’t know.
(Long pause)
MrsEar (tacking for a different approach angle): Did you get to see Baby Coco?
OneEar: Yes.
MrsEar: How is he?
OneEar (confidently): Fine. He is cute.
MrsEar (warmly): Why, what did he do?
OneEar (hesitantly): He crawled.
(Long pause)
OneEar (frantically): He does other baby stuff.
(Long pause)
OneEar (panicking): I think he does simple math.
(Long pause)
MrsEar (her head already shaking): How is Alceste?
OneEar (confidently): Fine.
MrsEar: He has a new job?
OneEar: I think so.
MrsEar (clearly irritated): What is Mrs. Alceste doing now?
OneEar: I’m not sure.
MrsEar: Is Dr. LBok still dating the same woman?
OneEar: I’m not sure.
MrsEar: What about Ono?
OneEar (confidently): He’s fine.
MrsEar: And Mrs Ono and the kids?
OneEar: I think they’re fine.
MrsEar (sarcastically): Sparky’s wife and kids are “fine” too I take it?
OneEar: I think so.
MrsEar (angrily): You haven’t seen each other for a year and then you spend every waking minute together for 4 days, what in the Hell did you guys talk about?
OneEar (thinking intensely): I’m not sure.
(long pause)
OneEar: In fairness, I was out of commission one of the days.
(long pause)
OneEar: Dr. Bok makes his own scotch whiskey!
(OneEar smiles smugly at the fact that he has remembered a concrete fact from the previous weekend. MrsEar misinterprets the smugness as contempt and the non-sequitur statement as insolence).
(long pause)
MrsEar (exasperated): Why on Earth would he make his own scotch whiskey?
OneEar (honestly): I’m not sure.

And so on for 6 hours.

Administration Begged to Suspend All Civil & Human Rights During War on Poverty

Since the 1960's, our great nation has been engaged in the "War on Poverty." This is a momentous struggle that is being fought on many fronts: from the streets of our cities to our mountains, islands and horns. This war is going to take many turns. And the enemy must be defeated on every battlefield.

Yet the povertists will not go away quietly. Povertists infest every nook and cranny unless and until they are vaccuumed out and exterminated. They hate our lifestyle and, above all, our money.

Thus, the First Unichurck is calling on the Bush administration to suspend all civil and human rights indefinitely until we are triumphant in this war on poverty. We feel that it is a small price to pay for so important of a victory. Those who are against us, the povertists and sympathizers, should be secure in knowing that we will get them. We will smoke them out and torture them until they relinquish their dedication to poverty.

But povertists find shelter in many of the civil and human rights that we would otherwise provide. We would give access to social services. We would have a judicial system that uses rhetoric about fairness and equal access to the law. We would have universal access to health care. No, scratch that last one. Anyway, these are luxuries we can no longer afford. Not with these povertists lurking among us.

For the very social services we provide create an unending cycle of lazy, welfare dependent soldiers fighting for poverty. And our judicial system is used for frivolous lawsuits which act like a lottery for the stupid and easily injured. And our universal health care system ... oh yeah.

And so, my fellow Americans, we must temporarily suspend the civil rights of all citizens in order to smoke out the povertists among us. We must all relinquish all of our freedoms, including the right to private property and the right to the income from our labor. For only when we are all poor will we be able to defeat this evil foe of poverty. It is a high price to pay, but it is definitely worth it.

Iran is the nest where many of these povertists breed, and so we must recognize Iran as the central front in our war on poverty. As we fight the enemy in Iran, every man and woman who volunteers to defend our nation deserves an unwavering commitment to the mission and a clear strategy for victory. A clear strategy begins with a clear understanding of the enemy we face.

So, as long as we are all clear, let's get on with it.

Ode to a Grecian Earned

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Clowns released yet another soon-to-be chart-topper this year with the catchy tune, "Ode to a Grecian Earned." It goes a little something like this:

(Spoken) "Hi, I'm here to fix your plumbing..."

(Verse 1)
Pokey, pokey, pokey, pokey,
Sucky, sucky, sucky, sucky,
Sucky, pokey, pokey, sucky
Squirt squirt squirt

(Bridge)
"All together now"

(Verse 2)
Pokey, pokey, pokey, pokey,
Sucky, sucky, sucky, sucky,
Sucky, pokey, pokey, sucky
Squirt squirt squirt

(REPEAT UNTIL TIME TO STOP)

Chicago to Phoenix: Wookie Central

As I try and try to wash off the smell, and wait patiently for the river of mud a-la the Chocolate Thunder Review to stop flowing from my body, I keep remembering my flight away from Rusty 2006. The inflight movie was "King Kong", which I found to be not quite as bad as everyone had told me. The four-inch screen 16 feet in front of me may have buffered the experience. The perpetual shaking of alcohol withdrawal and my own smell made it difficult to sleep, so I chose to give "Kong" a try. How bad could it be?

Though you may be expecting a review of the movie, all I could think of as I watched was our own OneEar, crippled and gimpy this year, vomiting at the slightest provocation. As I watched Kong fight off three nippy T-Rexes, Rexi, Rexae?, I imagined our Wookie trying to give directions on his way to his car. When Kong was getting splashed with chloroform, I saw OneEar administering his own anesthetic and then, after only just a little bit, turning into a furry vomit fountain on a sidewalk in a bad neighborhood.

Kong's captivity on the stage on Broadway was an eerie parallel to this year's subdued Wookie, and his swatting at the planes on top of the Empire State Building really did remind me of the poor Wookie fending off continuously annoying questions from Clowns flying at him with

"How's your stomach, Wookie?"
"How's your back, Wookie?"
"Take some medicine, Wookie?"
"Why're you walking so funny, Wookie?"
"I wonder why you can't carry your own equipment this year, Wookie. UGH!! Ok, now I get it"
"Sure are barfing a lot, Wookie."

Poor Kong. Poor Wookie. Our hero is fallen; or at least temporarily damaged.

Go back to the doctor, OneEar. You're not better yet. No one will compare you to Ben Aflac running to the Emergency Room for a headache yesterday and then leaking the life-and-death drama to the media.

Happy Rustymess

The time has come. A palpable, visceral odor begins to fill the air along with the unmistakeable approaching sound of music being tortured.

It is Rusty Eve!!!!!

Merry Rustymess to all, and to all a good flight.

I'm In the Money

Drinks are on me!!!!! My royalty check has arrived from sales of the award winning career guide, "What Color is My Pair of Shoes? Vol 1"



http://oneear.blogspot.com/2004/12/what-color-is-my-pair-of-shoes-vol-i.html

Rusty Set List Changes

I'm not going to have time to prepare Poetry Deleted or Cornered in the Kitchen or UFOs and Camel Toes. We'll have to work out the tune and arrangement on Friday.

Also, there are some chord changes to http://oneear.blogspot.com/2005/04/blow-ye-know-nothing.html which I will post on Tuesday.

Also, do any of you asholes know how to water ski? My back is still misaligned due to the late-night complimentary (and unsolicited) chiropractic adjustment I received, so I won't be able to do much other than sit and drink. But please advise whether any of you is interested in skiing.

The Plan Comes Together

Clown Squad Plans a Podcast

Scene 1 - Take 4 - The Clown Squad Kills the Dead

Even hobbits can perform reconstruction

There. I hope you are all happy. Rusty did work for a while as a nude model

How to delete posts

Dear friends;

Certainly if you belong to any species of higher-order mammal, you do not need instruction on how to edit or delete posts, so I won't bother posting any.

You are welcome.

Links working. Sorry.

A Reflective Moment
As the Fervor of Rusty winds up, I think we should all take a moment to acknowlege both Chewy's AND Bigfoot's birthday today. Now, as you are all aware, the actor who played Bigfoot on the Six Million Dollar Man, later went on to become the WWF legend Andre the Giant, and even later, went on to die of heart problems most giants typically have. While it is probably, therefore, a little late to acknowlege Bigfoot's birthday, we can certainly still congratulate Peter Mayhew with a happy birthday and also acknowlege that he is a full 5 inches taller than Andre the Giant/Bigfoot is/was. Having said this, even I am now taller than Andre the Giant. I can't wait for Rusty.

Rusty Sessions 2006 Are Upon Us!

1 week until the Rusty Sessions 2006!!!!

Time is short, my friends. Let us stop dwelling on who was beaten senseless by whom and which deity was kind enough to send a gift package of smoked meat. We have final preparations to prepare.

I am posting Coco's latest checklist:

Let me know if you are unable to bring anything listed.
Dr. Bok -- Guitar; someway to plug gutar into amp (e.g. pickup); harmonica.
Alceste -- Electric guitar (if you can); microphones; any instr/mic cables you might have. Also, at the last Rusty, Fluffy pitched his Sears Amp head into your back
bushes, so if you could retrieve that, wipe off the
dog shit, and mail that back to him before next
Thursday, then that would be great.
Ono -- Pickup (the one with the on/off switch). Fluffy has a guitar for you.
Special Guest Sparky -- Egg Shaker in key of Bb; Digital Camera

Also you should all bring swimming attire as there will be a mandatory "hosing off" daily (twice on Saturday).> > Peace.>

I will bring the PA system and a couple of amps. I'll probably bring the old 600watt Peavey that The Dyspeptics used to run all of our sound through. You may recall how that amp excels at being loud. This will come in handy just in case the neighborhood association's President lives too far away. I've got several mics, two mic stands, and a roll of duct tape. Coco has the drums, the bass, and a couple of amps. On second thought, I'd better bring a couple of more amps.

Coco - I assume you'll set up the videography. My camera and I have been unable to see eye-to-eye as of late. I'd like to have one camera filming group shots and one camera on me at all times.

Ono - do you have those pantyhose?

Other than that, I think we're all set. Obviously, you should bring your binders.

Rusty Set List

I now realize that I spent more time compiling this set list than any of you Clowns spent practicing in the past year. Nonetheless, you will be expected to know:
Covers

1. Mystery Train -- my version in E
2. Folsom Prison - in E
3. Mustang Sally - in B
4. Friend of Devil - in G
5. Old Man - in G
6. Like a rolling Stone - in G
7. Hey Joe - in E (somebody has to play the lead??)
8. Dead Flowers- in D - (Coco note the change)
9. This train- in A?
10. Old Joe Clark - in E
11. Squeezebox in G
12. Angie
13. Willin
14. Sympathy -in E
15. Twist/Shout La Bamba - in C

Originals

1. Where Has He Gone?
2. Reading A Book (Please see original assignments in binder on this one).
3. Life Is Like a Sausage (Dr. Lbok)
4. Spend My $ on the Stupidest Shit I can
5. 1900 Baby
6. Brave New World
7. Penny For Your Thoughts (Alceste)
8. Blow Ye Know Nothing
9. Old Wet Wendy
10. 2 Steppin Surgeon (Coco)
11. Sex Free Sex
12. Grumpy Sarge (Alceste)
13. Rusty Song (Dr. Lbok)

I'll also work up Poetry Deleted and Cornered in the Kitchen.

OneNote, why don't you work up Her Nookie is a Leaker.

We'll also do Dog Dirt Blues.