I would laugh my ass off at this, if it weren’t so sickening.

Behold!

This photo was taken in connection with Michelle Obama’s upcoming appearance on the Iron Chef television show, at which time she will reveal the “secret ingredient” that the competing chefs have to use in order to make a “meal for America.” (Her husband’s culinary specialty for a “meal for America” is, of course, the shit sandwich.)

Pictured from left to right are: Alton Brown of the Food Channel, Herself, and Mario Batali.

As you can see, each of them is dressed “in character.” Alton Brown (with the brown plaid jacket and non-matching gray, too-long slacks). is dressed as the nerdy, sciency guy he is on the Food Channel. Similarly, Mario Batali is wearing his trademark chef’s apron and orange Crocs. Not to be outdone, Michelle Obama is decked out in one of her signature clown outfits.

I so miss Laura Bush.

Photo swiped from iOwnTheWorld.com

Dogette, in a comment to this post, asked what was going on with canned peas. I take such questions seriously, particularly when they come from Dogette. Accordingly, I made a special stop at the supermarket tonight to listen in, and here’s what I heard. It ain’t pretty, Peeps.

Le Sueur Peas: Hello there, mon ami.

Regular Old Canned Peas: Huh? What is this mon ami shit?

Le Sueur Peas: We’re French, Bro. Check out the label: “Le Sueur.”

Regular Old Canned Peas: Yo, I have a serious case of the ass with France and with French people.

Le Sueur Peas: Why is that?

Regular Old Canned Peas: Glad you asked. Here’s the short list. Your language, although loved by many, when spoken, sounds like someone is puking; your sidewalks are covered with dog shit; your average woman has hairy armpits and putrid body odor; you make very shitty cars; you regularly surrender to Germans and whomever feels like kicking your asses at any given time; Americans rescued your sorry asses a couple times and yet, to this day, you pretend not to understand us when we try to speak your rotten language. How’s that?

Le Seur Peas: I figure that you’re just bitter, because our President has a hot wife and your President’s wife looks like a Yeti who always looks like she was dressed by a blind person, or someone who celebrates Halloween every day.

Regular Old Canned Peas: OK, ya got me.

The End.

Tomato No. 1: Hey, I see you guys are new here. Welcome to the Produce Aisle.

Tomato No. 2: Feh! I have nothing to say to the likes of you.

Tomato No. 1: Jeez, what’s with the uppity attitude?

Tomato No. 2: Dude, we’re organic.

Tomato No. 1: So, that means you grew up waist-deep in shit.

Tomato No. 2: Flat earther!

Tomato No. 1: Douchebag!

The End

Y E S !!!

I’m busy watching the election returns and hoping for the best.

That is all.

If you think that the present state of the government in New Jersey is just fine, please move on. We have nothing to talk about.

However, if you are fed up with living: (a) in a state with the highest property taxes in the Union (plus income tax and sales tax); (b) in a state with a Gordian Knot of ueberlarge, stumbling, inefficient, bone-crushing bureaucracy, (c) in a state crippled by mountains of regulations, many of which are incomprehensible or downright silly, (d) in a state that ranks dead last in terms of its attractiveness to businesses (e) in a state with people fleeing in droves because they can’t afford to live here, and (f) in a state with corruption that makes us the laughing stock of the nation, then GET OFF YOUR ASS tomorrow and go vote for Chris Christie.

If New Jersey ever needed real change, it is NOW.

In a sane world, Jon Corzine could never be re-elected. But, this is not a sane world; it’s New Jersey. Therefore, DO NOT STAY HOME TOMORROW. We will need every honest vote we can get in order to offset the voting fraud that the democrats have already kicked into high gear.

If Jon Corzine is re-elected, New Jersey will go the way of California. At a minimum, I want to be able to say that I tried to stop it.

Hint: It is a from a 1962 college yearbook.

Hint: I figure there’s a good chance that she authored that unintelligible blather next to the photo.

Hint: She is living proof that one can be graduated from college and still be dumb as a cinder block.

The Answer: Here she is today in all her glory.

I wonder if there is anyone who thought that The One would make his Afghanistan troop decision before this Tuesday’s election.

I’m not sure about the level of functioning grey matter of anyone who would believe that, but I am shit sure about The One’s priorities.

I saw this sign in the window of a local eatery during my groundpound this morning.

I got to thinking, Hmmm … seven bucks … the price is nice.

Rice: Cool, I like rice. What’s not to like?”

Beans: Excellent. I like all kinds of beans. In fact, I can’t think of a bean I don’t like.

Fries: Not good for the waistline, and rice is already part of the deal, so fries are a bonus.

Salad: Terrific. I wonder if I could get a Ceaser’s?

Meat: “Meat?” WTF? “Meat?” That covers a wide variety of animal flesh — everything from road kill to Wagyu beef. Given the price, I’m thinking that it’s probably closer on the “meat” spectrum to road kill.

I think I’ll pass.

Update: I forgot to include this as one possibility on the “meat” spectrum.

Swiped from SondraK.