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CUTE ATTACK!
November 10th, 2009
OMG! LOOK AT THIS CAT! IT IS WEARING A HAT! AND HE REALLY LOOKS LIKE THE WIZARD FROM MY FAVORITE FANTASY SERIES! DONT MIND THE THE CAPS LOCK, I’M NOT SCREAMING, I’M JUST MILDLY RETARDED AND HAVE A VERY TENUOUS GRASP ON COMPUTERS AND ETIQUETTE! MY SON GAVE ME ONE FOR THE EMAIL! I HAVE A COLLEGE DEGREE, AND I WAS EVEN A SECRETARY ONCE, BUT SOMEHOW IM COMPLETELY CRIPPLED AS SOON AS I SIT IN FRONT OF THIS THING! IS THIS THING FROM THE FUTURE?!?! HERE ARE SOME SMILEYS! 
. GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS! DO YOU THINK BARACK **HUSSEIN** OBAMA WILL TAKE THE “GOD” OUT OF THE PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE? I DO! HE’S JUST LIKE HITLER! HEY HERE’S A LETTER I GOT! IT’S REAL! **THIS JUST CAME OUT!** THAT’S WHY IM FORWARDING IT TO **EVERYBODY** IN MY CONTACTS!!!
JANUARY, 1992
Microsoft and AOL are now the largest Internet company and in an effort make sure that Internet explorer remains the most widely used program, Microsoft and AOL are running an e-mail beta test. When you forward this e-mail to friends, Microsoft can and will track it (if you are a Microsoft Windows user) for a two week time period. For every person that you forward this e-mail to, Microsoft will pay you $5.00, for every person that you sent it to that forwards it on, Microsoft will pay you $3.00 and for every third person that receives it, you will be paid $1.00.
OMG WE’RE GOING TO BE RICH LMFAO! MY INABILITY TO FOCUS ON ANYTHING REALLY COMES ACROSS IN EVERYTHING I DO, DOESN’T IT! MY DOCTOR SAYS I SHOULDN’T DRIVE OR USE KITCHEN KNIVES! I JUST ATE AN ENTIRE HALF GALLON OF ROCKY ROAD! IT’S HOW I EXPRESS MY CRUSHING LONELINESS! MY SOUL IS A DESERT! HERE ARE SOME MORE INFECTED SMILEYS! OMG I CAN’T GET OVER THAT CAT! I JUST WANNA EAT HIM UP! DID YOU KNOW THAT EMAIL MAKES IT OKAY FOR ME TO PUSH MY RELIGIOUS RIGHT WING IDEAS ON EVERYBODY AND SAY THINGS I WOULDN’T NORMALLY JUST BLURT OUT IN REAL LIFE!?!? WHY CAN’T I FIND A LARGE, LOW RESOLUTION ANIMATED GIF OF AN AMERICAN FLAG WHEN I NEED IT?!?! I REMEMBER NOW, IT’S BECAUSE THE DIABETES IS TAKING MY HANDS! OK, GOTTA GO BUY SOMETHING ON QVC TO FILL THE VOID WHERE MY HEART SHOULD BE! GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS! DON’T FORGET TO FORWARD THAT EMAIL$$$!!!
America Under Attack
October 26th, 2009
I was at Andy’s cottage this weekend for one last autumnal hoorah. As is customary, present were all three things the ATF is responsible for regulating, plus fireworks. While launching bottle rockets across the river in a responsible arcing trajectory, something struck me, and this year it was not a flaming aerial shell. Well, actually something interesting happened that set my mind in motion. Andy had a rocket in the tube and lit the fuse. As i stared with flat affect at the thing as it coasted horizontally across the river, I saw a large, silent object enter my periphery. It was a bald eagle, passing left to right at about eye level. You may recall my story from last week, where God thought it would be funny if a hawk attacked a city pigeon, flew towards me with it, threw it into an oncoming cab where it was creamed in mid-air while the light stayed red just long enough for me to see the pathetic victim come back to life and fly at full speed into a window. Since October is apparently Weird Experiences with Large Raptors Month, I watched this eagle closely and with wonder as he soared majestically past, making his way down the river. Then I realized there’s a rocket in the air, and Baldy is heading right into it’s path. Sure enough, the rocket missed the magnificent creature only by inches, causing the predator to make an evasive braking maneuver before the thing exploded next to her finely tuned optics like a flak round. Fuckin’ classy! The chances of that kind of event hooking up, especially unintentionally, are astronomical, yet sure enough, blammo.
The irony of shooting at America’s national symbol with a Chinese bottle rocket is like some kind of obnoxious supermetaphor… that, even at the risk of hurting an eagle, just had to play itself out in front of me like some kind of shitty puppet show put on by a very immature God. I get it. We sold off our country to China, and they’re coming for more. Please stop making eagles fly into our fireworks. Those are two extremely patriotic things that when jammed together like that could end in a blinding flash of irony, and a wounded eagle. Seriously, grow up.
Blasphemy
September 5th, 2008
FROM THE DESK OF CAPTAIN HAROLD VISCOUNT BULLCOCK, LEGITIMATE SHIPMASTER AND HOLD’R OF A LETTER OF MARQUE WHICH I ASSURE YOU IS NOT COUNTERFEIT
Yar, I checked the mail slot of this here electrified analytical engine today, to find the followin’ Daguerrotype pictur’ awaitin’ me. It strikes me as as a downright false claim. In all me years of sailin under the black flag, ne’r have i spied a creature of the hound variety what has a wooden false leg, nor have I e’er spied this dog upon the deck of any ship of any kind. Stede Bonnet has a fine wolfhound, which he is quite fond of, what he took aboard after a plunder. Tis been said that a dog always looks like its’ owner. I know that is not true, because in this case the wolfhound would be decapitated and hanging from a willow tree with a sign around its chest what reads “Go fuck yourself East India Company.” This dog, on the other hand, I suspect has not a drop of Corsair blood in it. If it were aboard me vessel, I would name it Sharkbait and send it to go fetch the anchor.
Pirate Weather: There Be a Small Craft Advisory Today
September 4th, 2008
FROM THE DESK OF CAPTAIN HAROLD VISCOUNT BULLCOCK, LEGITIMATE SHIPMASTER AND HOLD’R OF A LETTER OF MARQUE WHICH I ASSURE YOU IS NOT COUNTERFEIT
T’be rainin, mateys, so furl yer damn sails unless ye enjoy bein’ rescued by USCG, you amateur sons of bitches. A front of cold devil wind be comin from America’s hat, Canada, and be trouncin’ through the inland oceans like a rhum-soaked whore across Dry Tortuga. If’n yer vessels still be in the water an not yet slung up in yer fancy expensive dandy storage, then ye best be wise to the middle coast’s angry seasonal mood swings. The lake will swallow you whole an’ yer boat be a fine place for a sturgeon’s home. Dash you all to Davy Jones’ far as I care.
LMZ740-741-042115- WINTHROP HARBOR TO WILMETTE HARBOR- WILMETTE HARBOR TO NORTHERLY ISLAND- 959 AM CDT THU SEP 4 2008 SMALL CRAFT ADVISORY IN EFFECT THROUGH FRIDAY AFTERNOON THIS AFTERNOON NORTHEAST WINDS TO 30 KNOTS. OCCASIONAL RAIN. WAVES 7 TO 9 FEET. TONIGHT NORTHEAST WINDS 20 TO 25 KNOTS BECOMING NORTHWEST TO 30 KNOTS AFTER MIDNIGHT. RAIN. WAVES 7 TO 10 FEET. FRIDAY NORTHWEST WINDS 15 TO 25 KNOTS BECOMING NORTHEAST 5 TO 15 KNOTS LATE IN THE AFTERNOON. MOSTLY CLOUDY. WAVES SUBSIDING TO 4 TO 6 FEET. FRIDAY NIGHT NORTHEAST WINDS 5 TO 10 KNOTS BECOMING WEST AFTER MIDNIGHT. MOSTLY CLOUDY. WAVES 2 TO 4 FEET SUBSIDING TO 1 TO 3 FEET. $$
The Passing of Stabby the Sailfish
July 24th, 2008I was driving down the alley a while ago, and picked up a damaged Sailfish mount that someone had discarded, because I thought I would repair it and hang the beast on my wall. It’s an impressive fish. But I don’t have the time or the space for such a frivolous project, so he just rode around with me in my truck for about a month before I came to terms with the fact that my dream of picking up a piece of shit in the alley and hanging it permanently on my wall just wasn’t gonna happen. In the meantime, I named him Stabby, and man we had some good times together in that truck. I remember this one time, I went through the McDonalds drive-through, and Stabby was there. Man he was funny that day. Another time, he was with me when I went to Jewel to do some shopping. He was so fun, just laying there, being all busted up with his peeling paint, taking up cargo space and shedding plaster into the carpet. I liked the way he would lay on his side, his long rapier bill reaching all the way to the center console, just waiting to spear it like a mackerel if I were to get into an accident. There was so much life in that one cold, dead glass eye on the display side of his body, I felt I could see his soul. What do you think his life was like?
I like to imagine him slashing his way furiously through a shoal of mackerel on the move, a confident, fleet apex predator in the deep waters off of Cabo Blanco, Peru. I like to imagine Ernest Hemingway and baseball great Ted Williams sitting on a boat together, taking turns on the rod, struggling for hours to land the creature. When the fight is finished, the men bring their prize ashore, and retire to the fishing club to do some shots of Pisco with John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart. They would eat Dorado and share stories of love, life, and women. And one day, the symbol of their greatness would find its way into my life, and perhaps onto my wall.
Whatever. Anyway, time to throw this dirty fuckin’ thing into the dumpster.
In a last-ditch effort to bring life to Stabby, I posted this ad on CraigsList:
ENORMOUS 9ft Sailfish Trophy in disrepair FREE (montrose/western)
Reply to: sale-766881813@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-07-23, 12:51PM CDTStabby the Sailfish needs your help! Fun repair project: tail & pectoral fin broken off. Turns out, despite the misleading name, sailfish don’t fly. All pieces accounted for. Just needs total re-paint and some glue. Primarily plaster taxidermy. Not too difficult to repair and paint. In good condition he’s worth $900 on e-bay. In this condition he’s taking up space in my truck. Pick him up by tomorrow evening or I’m throwing him into the Chicago river and hoping for the best. I practice catch and release.FREE - You pick up. Save Stabby. He would do the same for you.
—-
I had one taker but he flaked. He said that, on second thought, he didn’t have room on his wall. I told him no problem. Papa Hemingway, on the other hand, would have said “well make room, you son of a bitch,” right before knocking his damn teeth out.
I’m setting him gently by the dumpster today, like a loved one who’s died in my arms. Goodbye Stabby. Thanks for all the plaster fragments and a slight tear in my armrest. I’ll never forget you.
The Independence Day Incident of 2008
July 8th, 2008
I love the 4th. It’s the day America gets belligerently drunk and launches rockets at Jesus. Waging war with the sky is usually a pretty safe endeavor, because the sky never really seems to get pissed off. Launching things at the earth, however, is another story.
When you head up to Andy’s cottage with a garbage bag full of rifles and a garbage bag full of illegal fireworks, the odds of completely averting some kind of mishap cannot be reduced to 0%. We are safety-minded individuals, but along with the holy trinity of alcohol, tobacco and firearms, add explosives, darkness, and countless other fickle variables, and you have the door open for some pretty spectacular failures (See: STS-51L, Space Shuttle Challenger).
SATURDAY, JULY 5TH, 2008 - SHADY BEACH, IL
We were launching our artillery in two adjacent yards along the river, scratching at our garbage bags of ’splody toys in the darkness like children for candy on Halloween. It was time for the big dog: The SilverSonic Warhead, a 12-shot repeater with coconut breaks, and the holder of the title “loudest thing in the store.” The front of the package warns, “SHOOTS FLAMING BALLS,” while the side panel insists, “PLACE ON HARD SURFACE.” So I went ahead and placed it on the moist, lumpy lawn. What could possibly go wrong? The Warhead works like a dream, violently hurling chrysanthemums and palm breaks and crossettes at the sky with terrifying velocity and satisfying, ear-shattering reports.
At least the first nine shots worked like a dream, anyway.
As far as we can determine, shot number 9 tipped the whole arrangement on it’s side, because the final three shots were unpleasantly lateral. Obviously bent on making each shot count, the murderous device spun to 3 of the 4 compass points with the recoil of each shot, insuring maximum damage during it’s little multicolored killing spree. The first fired deep into the woods, spinning the cake 90 degrees. The second fired directly at us, whizzing between our heads, and the third to the right, straight down the road like ball lightning on rapture day. The shells detonated and rained submunitions all around us in the yard while we bobbed and weaved, and I envisioned us as three retarded Fallujans on a thermal scope, scattering in vain from a safe-house. We composed ourselves, and returned to our two positions in opposite yards, exchanging volleys of rockets directly skyward, as the “People” of the Republic of China intended. You know, shooting straight up, like their population and their demand for petroleum and their pollution.
Every year, I’ve always considered walking away from the 4th holiday without taking a goddamned shell to the face a pretty attainable goal, but that little hiccup felt a little too much like a firefight in Tikrit. You can be assured that the balance of our assault will be directly on the stars. Fierce Tiger Whistling Rocket! Want some more, you twinkling sons of bitches? I twisted 4 fuses together! Come get some, smug little balls of light!
About 20 minutes passed, and in the silence of reloading, Brian said from the other yard, in a calm voice, “Hey, guys…” Andy shushed him, but he finished his sentence. “We got a pretty good fire back here.”
We rushed over to Brian’s position, and looked to the woods. Apparently we had successfully turned the earth itself into an awesome firework. The forest glowed bright orange as silent, angelic embers rushed skyward for a hundred feet and danced among the stars. It was so awe-inspiring and mesmerizing that we just stood there for minutes, staring. Just kidding, we did the right thing and fucking panicked. We bolted for the cottage kitchen and gathered every pot and bucket we could find.
You’d be amazed at how instinctively a decent bucket brigade comes together when the earth is burning down. It turns out, our fatal woods shot found the one 6 foot, rotted out stump in the whole green forest, buried itself in it, and detonated. After containing the blaze, we decided the best method for containment would be to remove the whole foul, smoldering stump and isolate it in the yard. So we broke it up and hauled its festering, steaming, bug-infested corpse, piece by piece, into the yard… a corpse that was a metaphor for our fireworks fun. We retired to the deck, dirty and defeated, with the great majority of our fireworks unexploded and in tow.
The 4th of July has been canceled.
Here’s what the Warhead looks like when it isn’t trying to kill you…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wit8dyMNzc
Well, lesson learned. Repeaters should be placed on hard surfaces. Big whoop. Where’s the bourbon and the rifle.
Crew Dispatch: Week of July 4th
July 2nd, 2008
FROM THE DESK OF CAPTAIN HAROLD VISCOUNT BULLCOCK, LEGITIMATE SHIPMASTER AND HOLD’R OF A LETTER OF MARQUE WHICH I ASSURE YOU IS NOT COUNTERFEIT
CREW DISPATCH: WEEK OF JULY 4th
Crew of the HMS Manta Marauder,
Here be the crew dispatch with the current conditions on the inland ocean for the next couple days. Let’s all be havin’ a great holiday week!
WEDNESDAY SOUTHWEST WINDS 15 TO 20 KNOTS. SHOWERS AND THUNDERSTORMS LIKELY IN THE AFTERNOON. WAVES 1 TO 3 FEET. RATS BE SCATTERIN’
AROUND THE HOLD ON ACCOUNT OF THE PITCHING IN THE SURLY CHOP, NO OPEN TOED
SANDALS PLEASE. IT BE 224 DAYS WITHOUT A LOST-TIME INJURY.
I BEAT CREWMAN THOMPSON TO DEATH W/A BELAYING PIN LAST NIGHT FOR NOT
SECURING A SHEET LINE. LETS KEEP THOSE LINES FAST PLEASE GENTLEMEN, LETS NOT GET LAZY
ABOUT SAFETY
HOLIDAY SCHEDULE:
WEDNESDAY- PIRATING
THURSDAY- PIRATING
FRIDAY, JULY 4TH- PIRATING WEDNESDAY NIGHT WEST WINDS 10 TO 15 KNOTS BECOMING NORTH 15 TO 25 KNOTS OVERNIGHT. SHOWERS AND THUNDERSTORMS LIKELY IN THE EVENING…THEN CHANCE OF SHOWERS AND THUNDERSTORMS AFTER MIDNIGHT. WAVES 1 TO 2 FEET BUILDING TO 2 TO 4 FEET TOWARD MORNING.
TWO RATIONS A RHUM FOR THE NAME OF THE SON OF A BITCH THAT STOLE
MY PEN. SOMEBODY KNOWS SOMETHIN'.
WHOMEVER LEFT THE SEVERED HEAD OF A BARBADIAN HANGING FROM THE YARDARM,
PLEASE DISPOSE OF IT. LETS ALL DO OUR PART TO MANAGE OUR SEAGULL
PROBLEM. TONIGHTS DINNER: MR. CROWLEY'S SPECIAL SALTED MEAT CASSEROLE, HARDTACK.
IVE BEEN GETTIN' A LOT OF COMPLAINTS ABOUT SANITARY CONDITIONS IN THE STARBOARD
HEAD. PLEASE DIRECT THESE COMPLAINTS TO GUTSPILLER BILL WILSON, YOUR FACILITIES
MANAGER. MAINTENANCE ITEM: THE NUMBER 3 PORT CANNON IS DOWN FOR SERVICE, ON ACCOUNT
OF ITS LOADER, SCRUMPY JACK MESNER DONT BE OILIN' IT.
NOTE: THERE WILL BE A FUNERAL SERVICE AT SUNDOWN, ALL MUST ATTEND. SCRUMPY JACK
MESNER WILL BE MISSED.
JOB OPENING: LOADER, NUMBER 3 PORT CANNON. PLEASE APPLY WITH YOUR HR DIRECTOR, BILL
DEADEYE SMITH. BREAKROOM NOTE: PLEASE LABEL ANY SALTED MEAT THAT IS YOURS IN THE
ROTBOX. OTHERWISE WE'LL THROW OUT ANY ITEMS IN THE ROTBOX WITH NO NAME.
THURSDAY NORTH WINDS 15 TO 25 KNOTS. PARTLY SUNNY. WAVES 3 TO 5 FEET. A SMALL CRAFT ADVISORY MAY BE NEEDED. LMZ743>745-020315- CALUMET HARBOR TO GARY-GARY TO BURNS HARBOR- BURNS HARBOR TO MICHIGAN CITY-
TONIGHTS DINNER: MR. WILKE'S CAJUN
HARDTACK. PLEASE ASSEMBLE ON THE QUARTERDECK FOR A CREW MEETIN'
AT SUNDOWN FOR A PRESENTATION ON BEST PRACTICES AND SHIPBOARD
NETWORKING SKILLS.
I SHOT MR. THOMPSON IN THE FACE WHILE HE SLEPT FOR INSUBORDINATION.
PLEASE BE CAREFUL OF BACKSASS. LETS STAY COHESIVE, PEOPLE.
CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL FOR KILLING EVERYONE ABOARD COMMERCIAL TRAWLER
M.S. "SPECTRE" AND TAKING HER A PRIZE. GREAT TEAMWORK PEOPLE. NOTE:
BROWNBEARD BILL STRAINED HIS ACL PLUNDERING A LARGE CHEST OF SILKEN FINERIES.
I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH: ITEMS OVER 13 STONE ARE *TEAM LIFT* ITEMS.
PLEASE SEE YOUR POLICIES AND PROCEDURES MANUAL IF YOU ARE UNCLEAR ON SAFETY
PRACTICES. REMEMBER ALSO, EYE PROTECTION IS *REQUIRED* FOR ALL BOARDINGS. 351 PM CDT TUE JUL 1 2008
FRIDAY SOUTH WINDS 5 TO 10 KNOTS BECOMING SOUTHWEST. WAVES 1 TO 2 FEET.
HAPPY 4TH OF JULY! CONGRATULATIONS TO EVERYBODY ON THE TAKING OF THE CIGARETTE BOAT
"BAD ATTITUDE" AND THE TORTURE AND MURDER OF THE BANANA HAMMOCK-WEARIN' HOMOS WHAT
PILOTED HER. IVE ORDERED HER MOTOR AND OUTDRIVE PULLED AND THE REST OF THAT PIECE
OF SHIT SENT TO DAVY JONES WITH THE FURY OF THE LONG NINES. PLEASE BE REMINDED THAT THIS IS GOING TO
BE A BUSY DAY, WITH ALL OF THE AMATEUR BOATERS VENTURIN' INTO THE INLAND OCEAN WITH THEIR
BEER AN' RADIO CONTRAPTIONS SCREAMIN' LIKE DRUNKEN SIRENS OF THE SEA.
CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN ON THE CAPTURE OF 28' SPEED BOAT "SIN OR SWIM" AND THE BRUTAL
MURDER OF HER CREW. THE PLUNDER INCLUDED 3 PAIRS OF OAKLEY BLADES, 2 TAG HEUER WATCHES
AND A BUNCH OF VAN HALEN CDS. NICELY DONE MATEYS. EXTRA RATIONS A RHUM FOR ALL. FRIDAY NIGHT SOUTH WINDS 5 TO 10 KNOTS. WAVES 1 TO 2 FEET.
TIS A GREAT NIGHT FOR CELEBRATIN'. WE BE HANGIN A TOTAL OF 5 SEVERED HEADS FROM THE YARDARM
AND MR' WILKES WILL BE MAKIN HIS BEST CHATEUBRIAND STYLE MEDALLIONS OF HARDTACK FOR DINNER.
WE BE FIRIN BROADSIDES ALL WILLY NILLY LIKE AT NAVY PIER TONIGHT TO CELEBRATE THE INDEPENDANCE
OF AMERICA. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY AMERICA!
CAPT. HARRY BULLCOCK
Chicago Officially America’s “Least Free” City
July 1st, 2008
TIME TO CELEBRATE AGAIN, CHICAGO! If handguns weren’t banned and unlicensed dancing weren’t selectively enforced under an archaic cabaret law, I’d be out in the street firing into the air and dancing with pure excitement!
In perfect lockstep with the official announcement that, with today’s tax hike, Cook County has the highest sales tax in the nation, Reason Magazine just published an article revealing Chicago as the “Least Free” city in America. They did a study of America’s 35 most populous cities, and based on balance of individual freedoms with government paternalism, Chicago secured the dead last, “least free” spot by a wide margin. As a true “Nanny State,” we win the gold where it comes to a city treating its residents like children. As the Hog Butcher to the World and a city long known to work hard and play harder, idle hands in The City That Works have managed to whittle away at sin, since that is the area where they (and other cities) feel most secure in telling the citizenry what is best for them.
Among the many metrics used to determine standings, the following were some of our most proud points:
- We boast the most traffic light cameras in the Nation
- Driving with cell phone ban
- One of the most restrictive smoking bans in the nation, stripping one of the most vital hospitality industries of the right to choose their own tobacco use policies
- Second highest tax on tobacco
- Sixth highest tax on alcohol
- An embarrassing, short-lived ban of foie gras
- Ban on trans fat
- Bottled water tax
- An aggressively anti-alcohol mayor, and a significantly diminishing number of taverns (once 7,000, now 1,300)
- Proposal for creepy city-wide surveillance system surpassing London’s
- Permitting and licensing policies
I could write about this for hours, but i have to go wait in line to buy seven City Stickers at the aldermanic ward office for up to $120 a pop (more revenue!) so the vehicles will not be covered with orange paper in 14 days (more revenue!). Which they eventually will anyway, for unposted street cleaning or improperly posted No Parking (more revenue!).
All I can say is, when they install the propaganda speaker in my living room, please don’t indoctrinate me with a pro-saving parking spaces with furniture stance. I’d rather jump off a breaker and save a space at the bottom of Lake Michigan.
So anyway, read this.
Chicago Orange Tree (Citatius Excessivus)
Our special way of saying hope you enjoyed your vacation.
Happy Memorial Day, Everyone! Now bend over.
May 23rd, 2008
Gas prices shot up again overnight in Ripoff City USA, up 20% from last Memorial Day weekend. That means if you can’t afford to leave town for the weekend, you get to spend it here, in the land of 9.25% sales tax (the highest in the nation… in your face, NYC!), and overtaxed everything, thanks to Hizzonner and the esteemed Gentleman from the Great State of Illinois, Gov. Slobodan Blagojevich. So just kick back and relax. But first head to the store for some traditional beer (don’t forget the Illinois sin tax, the cook county excise tax, and the City of Chicago alcoholic beverage tax), charcoal and fluid (add the nine and a quarter, baby), and perhaps a $9 pack of smokes.
So what exactly am I bitching about today? I don’t even really know. Every once in a while I get real cranky at this town and this state. Getting raped by politicians makes me cranky. What good is complaining going to do? None. None good. That’s why I’m building a nine ton, armor-plated killdozer in my garage. You just wait. You’ll see. You’ll all see.
May 23rd, 2008
Add yet another piece of dog crap to the steaming pile of corruption that we call Chicago. 15 Chicago building inspectors were just busted by the feds for taking bribes. They cut corners on construction projects, okayed illegal apartments, and god knows what else for huge money. But how widespread is this corruption among city inspectors, really? I’m gonna go out on a limb and say very. We are a proud city, one that will forever live the dream that our founder, Mr. Alphonse Gabriel Capone laid out for us. We are The City That Works.
Greetings faceless robotic overlords. HERE IS A FLUFFY TAG CLOUD to sate your insatiable thirst for indexable information. I hope it will please you. Please don't eat me.
