I spent most of the day on autopilot, having been rendered somewhat catatonic by the news of the day, including reports of the assholes in the Senate (led by the utterly despicable Harry Reid) making it up as they go along in order to seize one-sixth of the U.S. economy in the guise of “Healthcare Reform,” not to mention the EPA’s intention to use the Clean Air Act of 1960 to declare carbon dioxide dangerous to human health. (We exhale carbon dioxide and the plants need carbon dioxide to live – details!)

Despite that, I was snapped out of my media-induced catatonia by the incessant Holiday Christmas commercials that turn well-known Holiday Christmas songs into goddamned jingles to sell widgets. It makes me hate the widgets and hate the bastardized Holiday Christmas songs as well. Hell, those jingles make me hate everyfarookin’thing.

I think I need a Holiday Christmas drink and some time with Mr. Recliner.

Sadly, with each passing year, as the memories of the attack of September 11, 2001 and the horrors it brought fade away (or politically morph into a “man-made disaster”), it becomes increasingly important to remind folks of the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, “A date which will live in infamy.”

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

As a smarter person than I once said, “Those who forget the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it.”

PRS Operatives have learned that between bites of All Things Curry at the recent state dinner held for the Prime Minister of India, many guests were exchanging text messages. PRS’s proprietary technology permitted us to intercept some of the more memorable exchanges. Here is sample:

Hillary Clinton and Nancy Pelosi a/k/a “Pearl”

Pearl: Hey Hilly!

Hillary: Hey Pearl. How RU?

Pearl: Does this food suck enough?

Hillary: Damned straight, but U should C the crap I’ve been eating at some of the shithole countries I’ve been to.

Pearl: LOL! Wanna meet me in the ladies room? I brought some world-class blow with me; we could do a couple lines.

Hillary: Excellent!

Pearl: Besides, I have 2 get out of this chair. My ass is killing me.

Hillary: Wassup w/ that?

Pearl: I have a new pool boy.

Hillary: ??

Pearl: He’s Greek.

Hillary: LOL! Awesome. See U in 5.

Rahm Emmanuel and Joe Biden

Rahm:: Who’s the blonde in the red dress that was all over you like a cheap suit?

Biden: Her name is “Salami” or some shit. Says she’s the Queen of Farookistan.

Rahm: WTF?

Biden: Yeah, she’s a big cheese. I told her I’d plan an official visit to her country.

Rahm: Idiot! There is no country named Farookinstan!

Biden: Are U forgetting who’s the foreign policy expert around here?

Rahm: I damned sure f**king know who’s the f**king moron around here.

Katie Couric and Brian Williams

Katie: Hey, did U C how the President did the toast to the Indian guy?

Brian: U mean how he stuck a cocktail napkin to the side of the glass?

Katie: Yeah. He’s brilliant. That was awesome.

Brian: It really was. I’m going to do that from now on. He’s awesome.

Katie: I’m going to do that too. He really is awesome.

Brian: Very awesome.

Katie: He’s of the most awesome.

November 27th came and went, and I failed to remember that, as of that date, I’ve been doing this blog for seven farookin’ years. I’ve written more than 2,800 posts, and youse guys have left more than 17,000 comments, thank you very much. Collectively, that amounts to lots of time wastage, but the good news is that I’ve met lots of great peeps in the cyber world and in the real world as a result of noodling around with this blog.

I figure that since I’ve stumbled blindly into year number eight, I may as well stick around.

Watch and listen. It applies to all branches of the military.

Thanks to my buddy Brian, the Air Force Vet.

On a night when I had already decided that I was too tired and too crabby to blog, I found this in my email from our Fort Myers Beach pals, Jack and Della. I got a special kick out of it, having just had a close and personal encounter with anesthesia and those excellent peeps who administer it.

These folks are apparently registered nurse anesthetists, but they obviously have vocal talent and a healthy sense of humor as well.

DONE.

Katie Couric stopped off at the supermarket on her way home from work and the following ensued:

Can of Lima Beans: Holy crap! Katie Couric!

Katie Couric: Who said that?

Can of Lima Beans: Over here. To your right. Second shelf down.

Katie Couric: A talking can of Lima Beans?

Can of Lima Beans: Nice tits.

Katie Couric: WHAT?!?!

Can of Creamed Corn: Ms. Couric, I apologize on behalf of the Lima Beans. It’s a dented can and the deadly clostridium botulinum bacteria have begun to multiply. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Katie Couric: Oh. Poor thing. I’m sorry.

Can of Creamed Corn: Actually, you have pretty shitty tits.

Katie Couric: I’m calling the f***ing manager!

Can of Creamed Corn: Really? Are you going to tell him that a can of creamed corn said you have shitty tits?

Katie Couric: Damned right!

Can of Creamed Corn: Jesus, you’re even dumber than I’d thought.

A couple weeks ago, when I was experiencing some serious post-surgical “ouchies,” I found myself captive to television in the wee hours of the morning. Although I spent most of the time drifting in and out, I remember a few things that left me scratching my head.

Storm Chasers
Who are those peeps? They ride in tanky-looking things that appear to have been fabricated by the Little Rascals. What’s the idea here? Pictures? They seem to break their asses finding a storm, and when they find one they chase it, then when they’ve caught it, they shit their pants and run like hell away from it, the last part seeming like a smart move.

Late Night Infomercials
Who knew I can actually buy a steam-making thing that looks like an upright vacuum cleaner that I can use to clean the top of the stove?

Who knew that I can use a choppy-grindy thing to make delicious meals in seconds, provided that one makes delicious meals a half-cup at a time.

I’ve begun to kick myself in the ass for having spent so much time in school and actually going to work when I could have made multiple gazillion dollars in real estate by working about ten minutes per week.

Hmmmmm, maybe I really could use a couple Japanese Samurai Swords or some decoratively painted state quarters.

We all know what great things happened when Abbott teamed up with Costello, when Jackie Gleason teamed up with Art Carney, when Barnum teamed up with Bailey, when Burns teamed up with Allen, when Laurel teamed up with Hardy, when Simon teamed up with Garfunkle, when Bonnie teamed up with Clyde – oh, wait.

Well, brace yourselves.

Here it comes.

Better you should sit down.

Are you ready?

Here it is.

Dogette of Two Nervous Dogs and Laura of Fetch My Flying Monkeys, both well-known for humor that is as subtle as a Howitzer, have decided to team up at a new site, the purpose of which is to provide advice. Yes, indeed. An Advice Blog. Hopeless altruists, they are.

You ask, “Yo, Jimbo, what kind of advice are we talking about here?”

Don’t be a smartass and pretend that you don’t need advice. Everygoddamnedbody needs advice, and Dogette and Laura are chock full of it.

I can envision that they will entertain questions about virtually any topic. To wit:

Matters of the Heart
Dear Dogette and Laura,

My wife stabbed me multiple times when I forgot to put the garbage out. People say that once I’m released from the hospital, I should leave her. I think I should give her another chance. What do you think?

Health and Fitness
Dear Dogette and Laura,

I’m forty-six years old, and I finally learned how to swim last week. I’m thinking about swimming across the English Channel.
A couple people have told me I can do it if I lay off the booze for ten days. Sounds right to me, but I would like your opinion.

Punctuation
Dear Dogette and Laura;

I, have, “trouble” knowing “when” to use “quotation marks!” I – have commas, down pretty well, but I really, “need” some help with “quotation marks.” Do you have any tips?

Medical Matters
Dear Dogette and Laura:

I’ve been feeling poorly lately. I have no energy and my stools are psychedelic. I took one of those quizzes in an old issue of Reader’s Digest, the results of which suggested that I may have rabies. My friend who works at the gas station told me that he thinks it could be epizoodic or a side-effect from the pills I take for my ingrown asshole. I really need your help on this one.

I know you’re thinking, “Yo, Jimbo, this sounds great. When will the new site be up and how can I find it?”

Damned if I know. They say it will up “soon.”

Stay tuned. I’ll let you know.