Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Disturbing roommate conversation

Leroy: (Appearing at my front door). Can you watch my wife for a couple of days?
Kevin: That question certainly begs others.
Leroy: Dude, this is serious.
Kevin: It always is, what gives?
Leroy: I've got to work out a few issues.
Kevin: Such as?
Leroy: I want to go to Disneyland.
Kevin: Well, some might consider that an ideal activity for couples, no?
Leroy: I've already made my decision.
Kevin: Okay, and why the need to watch your wife?
Leroy: I promised she could come too.
Kevin: Sounds reasonable.
Leroy: But she can't.
Kevin: Less reasonable.
Leroy: I have to kill Mickey Mouse.
Kevin: Not at all reasonable.
Leroy: Why all the "reason" talk?
Kevin: How foolish of me.
Leroy: Maybe your wife can watch her. They seem to like each other.
Kevin: Earlier, you mentioned killing Mickey Mouse. Can you unpack that concept a little?
Leroy: He threatened homeland security.
Kevin: Seems unlikely. Do you have proof?
Leroy: He made threats to me while I was eating soup.
Kevin: Naturally. And where was this?
Leroy: In my attic.
Kevin: You don't have an attic. You live in a duplex.
Leroy: How would you know where I live?
Kevin: Because I am co-owner. Now, when did this happen?
Leroy: Like, probably, 4 a.m. last night.
Kevin: This explains a lot.
Leroy: And Mickey was all hostile. You know how he gets.
Kevin: I have no way of knowing how Mickey Mouse gets. Are you certain you were not dreaming?
Leroy: Well, that's ridiculous. My father was there.
Kevin: Your father.
Leroy: Or a giant, talking Twinkie. The details are fuzzy.
Kevin: Maybe you should take some time to reconsider.
Leroy: Too late. I already bought a time share.
Kevin: I don't see why that would be necessary.
Leroy; My travel agent would disagree with you.
Kevin: So when do you leave?
Leroy: My flight leaves in an hour.
Kevin: Well, you had better get going. So why do we need to watch your wife?
Leroy: She's been muttering about how she "can't take this anymore." Whatever that means.
Kevin: Women.
Leroy: I know. Well, off to save Jupitron.
Kevin: What the hell did you just say?
Leroy: No time!!!! (drives away)
Kevin: Hey, Khris? Leroy stole my car again.
Khris: Why is Krista tied to a chair in our backyard?

Monday, August 27, 2007

State Fair Musings

Job groaned in obscurity. Job didn’t have a blog. Welcome to Monday Musings on a stick.

There are two types of fair-goers, those who feel compelled to look at livestock, and those who are repulsed by the idea of staring at the anuses of future meals. For those who have married themselves into the former category, the hyperbolically-named “Miracle of Birth” barn represents a solid (if stomach churning) compromise.

There is some hubbub about a particularly expectant cow. Folks are gathered on bleachers (!) to watch a blood-splattered human arm exiting a cow’s vagina. No calf yet. That was worth it.

Over in the swine barn, a mother pig in an incubator breast feeds approximately 600 slimy little piglets simultaneously. Women and children swoon to this theater of the grotesque. Where is Kubrick when you need him?


Australian potatoes are a non-negotiable for me. Sliced potatoes, battered, and topped with neon cheese and ranch. To taste is to know God. It is THE fair food.

On a related note, I have come to discover that Australian potatoes are, in fact, Australian in origin. First John Howard, and now this? ADVANCE AUSTRALIA FAIR!!!!!


I enjoyed this year’s art exhibit. Generally speaking, the work was a bit more adventurous. Fewer kids holding flags at gravesites and off-center shots of forlorn barns. In general, the thing is a curator’s nightmare, as people invariably form a clockwise pattern than neglects the pieces in the middle entirely.

Which is a shame, since those people will miss what is one of the most daring, horrifying and haunting photographs I have ever seen. I won’t describe it, so as to let you discover it for yourself, but you’ll certainly know it when you see it, and you won’t forget it.


Sweet Martha’s (the cookie factory) is guilty of a rather clever deceit, having sold fair-goers on the idea that cookies ought to be consumed en masse. In what parallel universe is this normal? When was the last time you felt the need to consume anywhere between 9 and 23 cookies in one sitting? I mean, observing gluttony at the fair is shooting barrel-bound fish, but...


New item this year: SPAM curds. That’s enough, Hormel.


The stuff-your-own bear factory is here. Your chance to experience life as a sweat shop employee! The things Minnesotans will pay to do. Cotton is literally eminating from the bright yellow bear trailer. It’s like Jim Henson meets Auschwitz.


Caught the strongman show, featuring the strongest people in Minnesota. The emcee went to great lengths to inform us that the people we were seeing were nowhere near as strong as the people who compete nationally. Someone should tell him not to do that.

Also caught robot wars. The robots whent pshammm, byyaaaanggg!!!!!!!!




Got the sloppy joe on a stick. Didn’t hate it. Can’t recommend it.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

My Republican Brain

Pat Schroeder, former congresswoman and current president of the Association of American publishers, made headlines by suggesting that Republicans do not read well. Or, if we do read well, we certainly do not read often. Why? because we "just want a couple of slogans: 'No, don't raise my taxes, no new taxes... on every page."

Of course, this is a common canard. Republicans can't read. Republicans are stupidy-stupid heads. Republicans don't work. Republicans are slaves to Bushco.

I have frequently been called an idiot by partisans on the opposite end of the political spectrum. The pejorative is usually followed by a barely comprehensible, excessively punctuated, rant that offers little, if any, insight as to what qualifies the utterer to make the statement in the first place.

In short, dumb-dumbs call people dumb-dumbs.

I am greatly annoyed by those who are intolerant of the notion that they can be reasonbly disagreed with. Such is their mania, their passion for their ideas (or, realistically, whoever's ideas to which they subscribe) that they construct dissent to be a character flaw.

Why a former presidential candidate and CEO would be infected by this compulsion, I have no idea. It certainly does not contribute to the idea that she is a woman possessing the discernment or decorum one might expect from the highly-literate.

Further, the statement about sloganeering is either astonishingly obtuse or outright disingenuous. Surely, Ms. Schroeder has heard of "Two Americas", "My Body, My Choice", or simply "Wellstone!". Liberals seem to like those just fine, if I am reading the Volvos correctly.

As the demographics breakdown, those whose education resides between a HS diploma and 4 years of college tend to be Republicans by a small margin, while those at the fringes tend to be Democrats in large numbers. I am unsurprised that those who spend their years procuring more and more degrees vote Democrat, for a variety of reasons, and I won't be so unfair as to address the motivations of the other end of the spectrum.

But that leaves us with a politically that is largely average, not one that is particularly stupid or ignorant. Further, even among those I consider to be very bright, I have seldom heard a compelling reason to abandon a conservative principle. If I'm so dumb and they're so smart, shouldn't that intelligence translate to the political sphere? Isn't that the idea?

Perhaps, then, I am simply stubborn, unwilling to look my wrong-headed views in the face and tell them to scram from my political conscience. Or maybe I'm just pure evil. Or both.

That's fine. Just don't call me stupid.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Blu Ray or HD DVD? So many choices!

According to Thom's comment on my previous post, there is a war over High Definition DVD formats. I had no idea that such a war was taking place, so I did a little research.

Yep, there is a war. And, like our struggles in Iraq, it seems to be a war that nobody wants. I mean, when was the last time you were sitting at home, thinking "gee, you know what things suck? My DVDs. That's what suck. Someone should do something about the qualty of my DVDs."

Yeah, me neither. So I thought I'd break down the differences between the two competing formats.

According to it's Wiki entry, Blu-Ray is a high-density optical disc that utilizes pioneering technology to store more data. That means more capacity and better quality.

On the other hand, HD DVD is a high-density optical disc that utilizes pioneering technology to store more data. That means more capacity and better quality.

This is all so consequential!

I'm going to go with HD DVD on this one for a couple of reasons. First, Blu-Ray sounds like the name of an especially addictive form of heroin.

Second, I could see Mac coming out with an iBlu, some shiny little box that projects blu-ray movie images onto any wall. All of Apple's little fanboyz will go out and drop $1,600 on it, and we'll all be stuck with the format.

On the other hand, customers will never understand the difference between HD DVD and just DVD, or why it matters (because it doesn't). That means there will be a longer period before I wind up having to get a new DVD player to accommodate a new technology that I don't want and don't need.

Which one will succeed? Only time will tell. Here is one scientist's bold prediction...

Monday, August 20, 2007

Monday Musings

I don’t trust Mondays. I don’t trust you… Let’s do this.

Headline on CNN: Bears Eat Man at Beer Festival

Fantastic. Here’s the money quote.

"There's a good chance he was drunk or drugged. Only an idiot would jump into the bear cage," zoo director Vuk Bojovic told Reuters.

Tough to disagree with that analysis. Only in Serbia. Where was Youtube throughout all of this? Did I mention the guy was naked?


Like many Christians, I grow zucchini. You could even say that I am a certified zucchinist. My friend Kathy explained the plight of her zucchini plants, which immediately collapsed after bearing a large zucchini for her family’s consumption.

Apparently, there is an insect, the Bolivian Zucchini Bastard (I’m a bit sketchy on the details) that devours zucchini plants. And it has struck the Sawyer household. Alas, my lust for fresh-picked zucchini will leave me as desperate as the homeless.


Rescuers in Utah are under attack. It seems one talking-points challenged individual remarked the obvious, the miners are not going to be found. The families are furious, so I’ll assuage their worries. It is highly likely that the Utah miners will be recussitated by magic mine-fairies. Better now?


Blockbuster Online is raising their rates (and slashing benefits) for their online program. Now that they have managed to render Netflix irrelevant, they are taking full advantage of their full monopoly. Americans are stupid in that, when we want something, we will literally pay any amount to get it. The discerning among us are forced to contend with their excess.

But where else could I get the latest Tyler Perry release? The dude’s black and dresses like a fat woman. That is inherently hilarious. He is whacky and causes trouble. I take it back Blockbuster. God bless you and God bless this nation of morons.


If I were a billionaire, I would make a determined effort to resurrect Michael Winslow’s career (Winslow is the moth noises guy from Police Academy). At this point, the best way to do it would be a sequel. Not necessarily a sequel to an existing film. Just a film with a 2 after it, like “Motor-mouth 2”. That way it will automatically make money.

I’ll have to get Judi Dench to do a thankless role, obviously.


I want kittens. NOW!

Friday, August 17, 2007

An Interview with Michael Vick

Every now and then, my blog gives me the opportunity to interview various newsmakers and celebrities. Today, I am pleased to introduce Michael Vick, a noted NFL Quarterback who is currently facing prison time for his alleged role in operating a dog fighting ring in southeastern Virginia. Without any further adieu, let's welcome Mr. Vick...

Michael Vick: Yo...
TPWK: Um, right. Now, I notice that you are wearing a tank top made with what seems to be poodle hair.
Michael Vick: That's poodle-style man. Poodle style.
TPWK: Right. Considering the charges against you, do you at all question the wisdom of wearing clothing made from a dog?
Michael Vick: Twenty dogs.
TPWK: Twenty.
Michael Vick: Eighteen poodles, and two pugs. For texture.
TPWK: Now that is brazenly illegal.
Michael Vick: The poodles were arthritic.
TPWK: Arthritic?
Michael Vick: Yeah, they had no fight in 'em.
TPWK: I'm sorry, did you say they had no "fight" in them.
Michael Vick: They were soft, the poodles.
TPWK: Soft?
Michael Vick: They would have died in the pit, so I put the out of the misery.
TPWK: Out of their misery.
Michael Vick: And when I say that, I mean we drop-kicked them off second story buildings.
TPWK: How magnanimous. And the pugs?
Michael Vick: I ate them with a side of fava beans and a nice chianti.
TPWK: .....
Michael Vick: I'm just kidding. That was a joke from Silence of the Lambs.
TPWK: Subtle.
Michael Vick: I actually shot them in the back of the head during "Two and a Half Men".
TPWK: And you are going to prison, yes?
Michael Vick: Well, you know how the man is. Isn't your old man in prison.
TPWK: Not for a related incident, but, yes.
Michael Vick: Now, let me tell you, I don't know nothin' about no dogs.
TPWK: That seems unlikely.
MIchael Vick: How so?
TPWK: Well, the tattoo on your left arm say "Dogslayer".
Michael Vick: That was my grandma's street name.
TPWK: I see. Any comment on the fact that your co-conspirators may testify against you if the case goes to trial.
Michael Vick: I'm gonna blast 'em.
TPWK: Excuse me?
Michael Vick: I'll go out on 'em like they're a three-legged shitzu.
TPWK: Meaning?
Michael Vick: I'll drown them in a vat of olive oil.
TPWK: Cute. Now what do you make of reports that you may spend as much as a year in prison as a result of a potential plea deal? Certainly that must weigh on your mind.
Michael Vick: Not really. I'll probably go to a minimum security joint, catch up on my reading, and get five months off for good behavior.
TPWK: Makes sense, and what is on the reading list?
Michael Vick: Where the Red Fern Grows.
TPWK: I see.
Michael Vick: It was recommended to me by my publicist. I have no idea what it's about.
TPWK: You'll like the ending.
Michael Vick: You know, TPWK, there is one thing I've learned through all of this.
TPWK: And what is that?
Michael Vick: Don't start a public dogfighting ring.
TPWK: Application is not necessarily your strong suit.
Michael Vick: Go Falcons.
TPWK: Indeed.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

WFAT - Elizabethtown

It is often said of great filmmakers that their less-inspired early works predicted greater things to follow. With “Mean Streets”, Scorcese showed us that he could make a “Taxi Driver”. In “Resevoir Dogs”, Tarantino gives us glimpses of “Pulp Fiction”. “Wide Awake” suggested that M. Night Shyamalan might do well with “The Sixth Sense”.

In a more troubling vein, I suppose one could say that Cameron Crowe had an “Elizabethtown” in him. Badly written, poorly edited, and featuring a lead actor who is manifestly unentertaining, Elizabethtown is an indulgent, pretentious, alienating mess.

Cameron Crowe has experienced success as a filmmaker by infusing his films with his signature, detached style. Crowe’s camera never flinches during his major set-pieces. He simply observes, with neither his screenplay nor his direction telling the audience what to believe. Take for example, the famous “In Your Eyes” sequence, in which Cusack simply, boldly holds a boom box over his head. The dichotomy between detachment and hyperbole creates a desperate, elegiacal quality that permeates Crowe's best work.

Crowe’s characters vocalize a lot, but rather than simply spelling out their feelings and emotions, they offer hints and insinuations. They sing along to music, or they mutter to themselves, or say something completely perpendicular to their character. Understated but assured, Crowe lingers and languishes upon his characters. We see much and discover only just enough. His characters know more than they are telling us.

When it works, it really works. We become infatuated with his characters, are are left wanting to know more of them. Few films of this decade are more emotionally rich than “Almost Famous”. Tom Cruise’s “you complete me” in “Jerry Maguire” is easily the most memorable scene of his long career.

But even in his better films, Crowe’s assuredness blurs the line into heavy-handedness. Early in “Jerry Maguire” there is a scene in which Jerry observes a video compilation in which various women describe him as co-dependant. The scene is an exercise in telling rather than showing, a flight of directorial fancy that finds no resonance in the rest of the film. It should have been edited out.

Enter “Elizabethtown” a film that Crowe’s (curiously fervent) fans would undoubtedly like to edit out in its entirety. “Elizabethtown” takes all the hallmarks of Crowe’s best work, the aloof dialogue, a confidence style, and (of course) a killer soundtrack, and bludgeons us to death with it. Only a great director could make such a bad film. A lesser director would be hard pressed to find actors to fill the roles.

Take the opening scene, in which Phil DeVoss (played by Alec Baldwin, who probably thought he was signing onto a potential supporting actor nomination) fires Drew Baylor (Bloom). Baylor is a shoe designer who is responsible for a spectacular failure that has cost the company millions. Baldwin plucks him from his cubicle (!) and offers a meandering lecture about the destruction he has wrought. The scene makes little sense, perhaps because Crowe has spent no time in the corporate world, and every word seems stilted and fake.

Baylor, whose prospects really ought not seem so grim considering that he was a lead designer for a billion dollar product, contemplates suicide before receiving a call announcing that his father has died. Thus, Bloom goes on a soul-searching journey to Elizabethtown.

Here is where Baylor runs into Crowe’s obligatory muse, a pretty female who articulates the protagonists various crises of self-doubt. Instead of providing right answers, however, Dunst’s Claire Colburn mostly just describes herself. She’s one of a kind, or so she (literally) informs us. Actually, she is a poorly written version of Penny Lane. Claire tells us why we should like her, and then provides no evidence (other than looking a lot like Kirsten Dunst) as to why we should.

And so the movie hurtles from one agonizingly awkward scene to the next. A father is unable (or unwilling) to control his son, so Baylor puts on a video featuring building explosions, which keeps the kids entertained. The movie resumes. Huh?

The mother (and father’s ex-wife), played by Susan Sarandon, offers her thoughts at a banquet honoring the late Mr. Baylor in one of the most turgid monologue in the history of cinema. After boringly expositing about relationships, her ex-husband, and boners for a while, she notes that she has taken tap-dancing lessons and, jaw-droppingly, begins to tap dance for what seems like 30 minutes.

And so on. As usual, Crowe exhibits absolute confidence in his actors and his script. Unfortunately, his script is absolutely abysmal, asking his actors to do things that no reasonable or unreasonable person would do. Every scene is a miscalculation.

Orlando Bloom, an actor with particularly little skill, is incapable of transcending the material, and seems entirely too self-satisfied with a mediocre performance. Rumor has it that Ashton Kutcher was originally signed to the lead role. This is not a notable improvement.

Again, this is unquestionably a Cameron Crowe deal. Crowe takes his propensity to stick with a scene to almost satirical levels. In fact, if one were to produce a scathing parody of Crowe’s films, it would look quite a bit like “Elizabethtown”. It is one of the worst films of all time.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Haiku for fellow bloggers


Chiseled adonis
Furry orbs of tummy hair
I must kill Bridgette


Creation’s sweet rejection
Who is Tim Challies?


She picks zucchini
Bigger than her baby's head
Her husband scares me


Self loathing blogger
Just date Adam already
Get it over with

Monday, August 13, 2007

Monday Musings

Monday, Monday. Can’t trust that day. Let’s muse together, you and me…

This morning, I went to IHOP for breakfast. Then, on my way to work, I took the elevator from the 4th floor to the 3rd floor. I stopped by the convenience store downstairs and bought a diet coke and a Powerball ticket. Then, on the way up the elevator to my floor, I listened to some very Minnesota people talk about construction.

I might as well just have dinner at The Olive Garden, order Yellowtail Chardonnay, and go catch Rush Hour 3. Seriously, what have I become? Next thing you know, I’ll be building a deck.


Air Tran airlines recently make a bid to purchase Midwest Airlines, which runs several routes out of Minneapolis. Northwest Airlines aided the efforts of venture capitalists to tender a better offer.

I like the strategy. This way, instead of gradually losing customers to profitable capable airlines, Northwest can simply slowly deconstruct before our very eyes, and take our multi-billion dollar airport with it. That’ll be a hoot to watch. Thanks NWA!


So Cal Ripken has been named to the state department as a goodwill ambassador. That’s nice. In ten years, he and Barry Bonds can play good cop and bad cop with Syria. We can send Michael Vick to Guantanamo.


Came back from cabin merriment, and faced a four hour commute marked by angry truck drivers tailgating me. I don’t get the deal with tailgating (particularly in dense traffic, when I can’t possibly go any faster). I already assume you are compensating, or else why by a truck? But to drive aggressively for no reason?

I would be fascinated to explore the mind of the average truck driver, but I have the distinct feeling that I would run into the cymbal-playing monkey along the way, and we are sworn enemies, the monkey and I, for obvious reasons.


And, on my way to work, I see another truck tailgating in rush hour traffic. Only this truck is an oil tanker. That is precisely what we need more of.


Brooke Astor died today, at the age of 105. Astor is described as a socialite, philanthropist, and civic leader, which is a nice way of saying she married rich.


I shouldn’t be so cynical… Her parents were probably rich as well.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Friendly advice to a church in Michigan

On a message board, someone posted an excerpt from a church website in their "how to join" section. It reads as follows...


"When joining a church, I think there are two considerations. First, ask yourself if the Spirit is alive. And second, does that Spirit touch you? There are many congregations and many styles of Christian religion, and finding the one that corresponds with your own ideals and needs is very important if you are to become a part of a church that will nurture you on your journey.

As a whole, Erin is much less concerned about being Presbyterian than it is about being Christian. Our style, theology, traditions, ministry and mission reflect the Reformed Theology of Presbyterianism. However, this is only the cultural expression of the deeper quest that unites us. We are striving to know the holy, to seek truth, to explore the Spirit as revealed by Jesus, the incarnation of God himself.

When you visit us, if the Spirit is alive for you and that spirit touches you, then it is a fair bet that you have found a fellowship of Christians that will connect with your soul. I look forward to having you join us on the journey.

In Christ,
Pastor Pat

Process of Membership

1. New Member Class: Three classes on
1) Getting to Know You,
2) Getting to Know Us,
3) Getting to Know the Place.

2. Meeting the Church Elders: An evening fellowship with the church
elders and their vote to receive you into


Ummm... Sorry, too gay for God. Here is my proposed re-write.


When joining a church, I think there are two considerations. First, ask yourself, am I hard core? And second, how freaking hard core am I? There are many congregations and many styles of Christian religion, and most of them are for candy-asses. Finding the one that corresponds with your own ideals and needs is very important if you are an artichoke-sniffing puppy-kisser.

As a whole, Erin is much less concerned about being Presbyterian than it is about kicking-ass. Our style, theology, traditions, ministry and mission are totally intense. However, this is only half of it. We also behead rabbits, just for being cute and fluffy. We are striving to know the holy, to seek truth, and punch false religion right in the face 'til it bleeds.

When you visit us, prepare to be pounded by the almighty, via our fists of righteousness. If the Spirit is alive for you and that spirit touches you, then it is a fair bet that you are a fairy. Go back to redesigning your kitchen, fatty. Fellowship of Christians that will connect with the right and then pummel you with the left? That's the hard core way. I look forward to owning your ass. After the sermon, feel free to stay for cheese and crackers. Rest assured, there will be plenty of PUNCH!

In your face,
Pastor Chuck N.

Process of Membership

1. New Member Class: Three classes on

1) Kicking Ass.
2) Taking names.
3) Sword-making.

2. Meeting the Church Elders: An evening fellowship with the church elders. We'll rent UFC on pay-per-view and down some beers.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Guest Commentary: Superman

Yeah, I know. No, no, dude, it's perfectly cool. You can say it. I'm a total ass.

The truth is, I wanted to be there. I wanted to be at the bridge. But like, I was having cocktails at the Four Seasons with Tom Brokaw, and one thing led to another. So yeah, my bad.

I think I've let this celebrity thing get to my head. During 9/11, I was getting my toes waxed. Then I saw the buildings on the news and I was like, oh crap. Thank God everyone was alright.

It's hard, like, you know? People are all up on me all the time with like "hey, Superman, save me." Sorry Darfur, I have a life to lead. I'm dating Maggie Gyllenhall now. Things are good. Things are good.

So, um, yeah, just wanted to get that out there and say sorry Minneapolis. Maybe I'll be back around to, I dunno save the IDS center or something.


Super T. Man

Monday, August 06, 2007

Monday Musings

Let's smack this around like an overweight polar bear! I have no idea what that means, but it certainly seems ill-advised... Let's roll...

So, I guess impeaching the President over illegal wiretaps is off the table, eh? You mean tapping the phone lines of people who make international calls to terrorists doesn't quite represent the end of civil liberty as we know it? I look forward to a whole new crop of college kids mangling that Ben Franklin liberty/security quote.


I like the Democrat's line on this. "We'll pass it know, and fix it in six months." Sorta like shooting first and asking questions later. Now, I know how politics works, but should that really be your talking point? I suppose it beats "it appears that a small minority of our party still gives a damn. We will work to correct the situation."


Did you all hear about the bridge?


So, the crazy neighbor narrative is coming to a head. Per my neighbors constant protestations to Minneapolis inspections, my wife and I sought to replace screens on the north side of our house (facing his). So we brought our ladder over and set out to get some measurements.

My neighbor comes out in his bathrobe (this is mid-afternoon here) and tells us we need to protect the plantings, whatever the hell that means. Instead of telling him to, you know, we politely say we will do our best. So suddenly he starts taking pictures of me and my wife. I called 911. They told me to tell him to, you know.

The plantings to which he refers are your typical, durable ground cover. I would doubly add that the plantings are ON MY PROPERTY!!!! Just for this, I'm replacing them with bricks when I move out.


In an effort to get drivers to slow down in residential neighborhoods, some homeowners are putting cardboards cutouts of kids along the side of the road. That, folks, is an awesome Halloween prank waiting to happen.


Regarding Minneapolis code re: screens. Code dictates that you must add screens no later than May 1, but must add storm windows no later than November 1. In other words, the rules literally read that you must devote May 1 and November 1 to window replacement.

We have a literacy and murder problem in this city, right? Just checking.


Yes, I am in a bad mood. Wouldn't you be?


Neifi Perez, the non-slugging shortstop for the Detroit Tigers was suspended for using a banned substance. Neifi Perez is arguably the worst hitter in baseball. If the worst hitter in baseball is juiced, what does that say about the rest of 'em?


Go Barry!

Friday, August 03, 2007

I heart Minneapolis Part 4

So meanwhile, while bridges are falling into the water, our trusty Minneapolis housing inspectors carry on, doing the bidding of my corpulent, alcoholic, mother co-habitating, possibly pedophilic neighbor. After all, if not for their diligent efforts, all of the city might have to contend with my ferns, which the city apparently needed to have mowed at my expense.

As I mentioned previously. The latest sticky-wicket for them is that some of my windows don't have screens on them. This is essentially unfixable, given that the windows have no place for a screen, but city code does not listen to reason, and must be enforced at all costs. So, like Crystalnacht in reverse, the unrelenting fist of the Minneapolis Gestapo ordered me to add screens.

You see why I love this city so much.

I made several calls to Bob Whitland, the dimwit who had ordered the work to be done, and pleaded my case. He said that I should simply throw in a couple screens to keep the neighbor happy. I had a couple screens in the basement, so I popped them in and called him back. And called, and called, and called.

Alas, several weeks later, I find out that Mr. Whitland no longer works for the city of Minneapolis. As such, the case remains open. Of course, the recommendation to simply throw a couple of screens up is probably not going to mollify the next bureaucrat who takes a look at my house, so now what?

After 46 calls (yes, I keep count) to various inept city employees, I finally get a response. They don't have any information on what Bob Whitland said, and he was either fired or quit before my property was re-inspected. However, I'm in luck. They promise to send out another inspector next week.

To top it off, the inspector is going to look into the question of whether the pine tree in my front yard is dead, again per lowlife neighbor's complaint. It doesn't seem to be dead, but how the hell do you prove that a tree is alive? I haven't had good luck with trees in the past. I asked lead bureaucrat Jack Allison that very question, and his response was "if it's dead, it's dead".

I'm beginning to understand why God invented hell.

Let me tell you how this is going to go down. Inspector will visit, and find something wrong. The inspections department will fail to return my phone calls for weeks, and I will receive a bill for about $4,000.

This is why I vote Republican, people.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Memo to Nick Coleman

Fuck you.


A reader.

Bridge Musings

So, for those who have no access to any print, television, online or alternative media other than my blog, or for my Paraguayan readers, a bridge collapsed. So much to say, none of it compelling, so let's muse....

Really should've checked with my mom in Michigan a lot sooner. Sorry mom.


Again, we didn't exactly elect Rudy Giuliani, did we? Nice deer imitation, R.T.


Question for Ted. If you knew you were going to be on international news, would you have worn your "COLLEGE" t-shirt. This is why I always look fabulous, people. Seriously, though, his future cousin-in-law is okay.


Nice to see the meaningless Anderson Cooper try to Katrinafy Coleman and Pawlenty. It's like he Googled Minnesota to determine who the nearest Republicans were. I had to change the channel.


So I guess we now know what God thought of the Kevin Garnett trade. Thanks a lot, McHale.


For those wondering, no I am not on the bridge. I am okay.


I knew I should have picked up smoking...

Wednesday, August 01, 2007


Quick poll:

Would you guys think more of me or less of me if I start smoking? I've been thinking about giving it a go, for street cred. reasons, but I just wanted to bounce it off you guys.

Do you think it would make me all hard?

Am I hard enough already?

Am I too hard?

I think it'd be pretty sweet if I strolled into church with a marlboro betwixt my fingers, taking one last transient puff before flicking it in the face of one of the greeters.

Don't you think that would be great?