Spent the day doing Christmasy stuff, including attending a Christmas brunch with our excellent new neighbors here at the House by the Parkway (South). As such, I’m too lazy to try to think of something to write that is interesting or amusing, so I thought I would share this video of people doing positively crazy amazing things.

Enjoy.

Thanks, once again, to my buddy Brian, the Air Force Vet.

PRS Operatives have managed (Don’t ask) to get a copy of Mrs. Obama’s letter to Santa. Enjoy.

Dear Santa,

I’ve been a really, really good girl this year, if for no other reason than I have managed not to strangle that arrogant, whiny, girlie man prick that I’m married to. I thought that I wood let you know what I wood like for Christmas. I am confidint that you will leve me these things, because, although my *spit* husband may be an arrogant, whiny, girlie man prick, he could federalize your operation with the stroke of a pen. Keep that in mind, Fatso.

Here goes:

1. Belts, lots of belts — wide belts. You know, the ones that separate my boobs from my ass. Everyone says that my belts are very slimming (even though I don’t really need slimming).

2. A hula hoop. I am a kickass hula hooper and a woman of the Peeps. Just ask any one of my dozens of staff members.

3. When you come by, could you puh-leeze take that pissass dog away with you on the sleigh. He always barks at my mama and shits in my shoes. The Secret Service guys like him, but I hate him

4. Twinkies, Devil Dogs and some killer éclairs. Please wrap these in plain brown wrapper and leave them in the cabinet under the sink. Know what I’m sayin?

5. Could you please hit that Smartass Suzette on the head with a flaming meteorite? I’m tired of redding the terribel things she says about me. If you can’t do the meteorite thing, please leave some reindeer shit under her tree.

6. I really would like a tutu and ballet shoes. People tell me that I look like a ballerina and that I’d look really, totally hot in a tutu. I’d like the tutu in something purple and yellow (sequins would make it really special) and the shoes in size 13 EEEE.

7. I also could use a new – what the hell is it called? – A nine iron, or some shit (Pardon my French,Santa). You see, one day, Himself was bitching and moaning about Fox News and Mama said, “Yo, Bitch! You sound like a gottdamned pussy with all that whinin’ ‘n shit!” (Pardon my mama’s French, Santa). She smacked him upside his head with the club and broke it. He tells me he really needs a new one, because he has a golf date with a bunch of Kenyans. Friggin’ Kenyan relatives of his … they show up here at the White House and wipe their asses on the sheets. What the hell was I thinking when I married this mutt?

8. I’d love a Sarah Palin wig hat. I figure that would get a rise out of Himself.

9. A few Poppers. I hear Himself and that slobbering jackwad Barney Frank talk on the phone about them, but I’m not sure what there are. Please leave me a package so I can see what the hell they are talking about. I somehow don’t think they are party favors.

10. Oh, and could you please find all those people who put my picture on the internet next to the picture of that goddamned Wookie and strike their sorry asses dead. I’m goddamned totally hot and those rat bastards know it. Hell, Janet Napolitano once grabbed my ass, and she doesn’t grab just any old ass.

Thanks, Santa.

Reguards,
Your pal (i.e. BFF)
Michelle

P.S. I left some sweet ‘tater pie on the counter (mama made it). Hep yourself.

My buddy Brian, the Air Force Vet, sent me a link to an amazing series of photos focusing on the Pacific Theater in WWII. Many, if not most, of the photos were new to me. Each photo is captioned, and I am ashamed to say that I had not known of several of the island battles until now.

If you are interested in WWII history, you should take a look.

With each passing year, more and more Americans are unaware of the historic significance of this date. That’s a shame.

You can read and hear President Roosevelt’s December 8, 1941 address to Congress here.

A while back, I wrote about the inefficiency of men and women grocery shopping together (invariably caused by the men). The other day in the supermarket, I overheard a conversation between a woman and a man (a/k/a Health Nazi). The woman had put a box of prepared, flavored rice in the shopping cart. The Health Nazi Man, picked up the box and read the label:

Health Nazi Man: (Sarcastically) Oh yeah, this is really good for the heart.

Woman: You bitchin’ about the rice?

Health Nazi Man: Look at the ingredients. It’s not heart healthy.

Woman: OK, put it back on the shelf and go buy plain rice. I’ll make plain rice.

Health Nazi Man: Plain rice?

Woman: Yeah. Plain rice, but the last time I made it you bitched about it. You said it was “too bland.”

Health Nazi Man: (Returns box of prepared, flavored rice to the cart) Never mind.

Woman: Why don’t you go pick out some ice cream and meet me at the checkout.

Health Nazi Man: Great idea. Any particular flavor?

Woman: No. You pick one out. Just make sure it’s “hearty healthy” ice cream.

Health Nazi Man: Jeez.

This is a guy who probably should stay home or wait in the car.

Yes, Peeps, it was a pretty cold dreary day here at the House by the Parkway (South), but fortunately a remedy is easily within reach. I’ll be taking my Beloved Gibson over to the Albert Music Hall to sit in the Pickin’ Shed and do a bit of playin’ with the Pickin’ Shed Peeps. Might even get to sing a song or two.

Maybe afterward I’ll head off to the Legion Post for a beer.

I’m retired and easy to please.

Poifect together.

WyBlog reports that, according to a study conducted by the non-partisan Office of Legislative Services, it takes between 67.5 and 90 private sector workers in New Jersey to support one state worker. The problem is that when you do the math, it is clear that we don’t have enough taxpayers in New Jersey to support our bloated state work force.

Well, isn’t that just farookin’ greatl?

The only possible solutions to this rather frightening problem are either to slash the size of the government workforce, or to dramatically increase taxes on New Jersey citizens, already among the most savagely taxed peeps in the U.S.A.

In my mind’s eye, I can still see that mega-asshole Governor Corzine pumping his fist at a rally of public employee union members and shouting, “I’ll fight for you!”. Huh? Too bad someone didn’t smack him on the side of his cruller to remind him that, as Governor, he is “management.”

WyBlog has the deets, including the numbers.

Via Doug Ross

I can always count on El Capitan to send me stuff about disgusting man-eating reptiles. Here’s the latest, but I must say that I like how this one turns out. (I’d also like to give the rum a try.)

The Opener

The Apology

Apology No. 2 Heh.

Interesting.

h/t Catfish