No thanks.

Dear amelie@hotmail.com,

You (IP address 64.159.65.78) and others like you who spam blog comments are loathsome beyond description.

Jail would be too tame for scum like you.

The Management

Check out the Instigation of Hostilities Permission Slip. I trust that Mr. Kerry has already bookmarked the page.

Via Knowledge Is Power

SuperG is back to blogging, which is good news. Today’s topic: Lyndon LaRouche, the eternal wackadoo presidential candidate.

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of spending time with the author, a very interesting and engaging guy, who had just recently returned from a cross-country trip that included several interesting stops along the way. Lots of blog fodder there, methinks.

Update: Sorry, the author is still noodling with the site. Stay tuned.

Here is the ultimate Democrat tax plan.

With the adoption of this plan, Cousin Jack would have to teach torts.

Thanks to my friend Brian, the Air Force Vet and California taxpayer.

Craig at mtpolitics has decided to give up blogging for the forty days and forty nights of Lent.

I’m kinda bummed about the prospect of not seeing his stuff during that time, but that is admittedly selfish of me. Knowing how important blogging is to Craig, I have no doubt that his decision was well thought through and deeply rooted in his faith. He’s definitely a good guy.

Da Goddess has it (the Diamond Edition) up and running here. She did a mahvelous job and has a particularly creative theme. I cannot imagine how much work goes into putting that all together.

Go read.

In fact, I think I will spend most, if not all, of my allotted blogging time tonight over there reading what others are saying. It works out well, because the needle on my creativity meter is hovering close to empty tonight. Who knows? Maybe something someone submitted to the Carnival will inspire me to flail away at these keys later, or maybe something will spark an idea for tomorrow, when I am hopeful that my muse isn’t continuing to actively ignore me.

Kudos, Joanie.

In a comment to yesterday’s post, one of my Montana blog buddies, TL Hines, advised me that Wachovia, which I was pronouncing as Watch-OVAH-ya, is really pronounced “Walk-OVAH-ya.” This was confirmed by a reader, Dex, who hails from Virginia, which he notes is the state in which Wachovia first surfaced.

As a result of receiving this important information, I decided to share my feelings with the people at Wachovia in the following open letter:

Dear Dweebs of Wachovia:

Yours is but one of the many banks that, for one reason or another, has taken up residence in my town. However, the thing that distinguishes your bank from the others that comprise this invading hoard is that your bank has a really dumb name. What the hell kind of name for a bank is “Wachovia”? Do you mean to tell me that people actually leave their money in a place with dipshit name like that?

Now I learn that, not only have you given your crummy bank a seriously lame name, but also that you pronounce it funny. How the hell do you get “Walk-OVAH-ya” out of Wachovia? No English speaking, right-thinking person would say it that way. Are you people from Mars? Estonia?

So, what’s the deal? Is this one of those instances where you say, “Well, Jimbo, It’s spelled ‘Wachovia,’ but it’s pronounced ‘Hornswoggledillyfuddywalawalabingbang’.” (Thanks and apologies to Monty Python) Baloney!

Look, I question whether our town is big enough for 15 banks, but I am damned sure that we don’t have room for a bank with a ridiculous name, which is made even worse by your insisting that it be pronounced in some dumbass way.

I believe that I speak for all the fine people of my town (many of whom, by the way, are veterans — something that is decidedly trendy these days) when I demand that you knuckleheads change the name of your bank to something that sounds more like a damned bank, rather than some Boy Scout summer camp. Wachovia, indeed. Feh.

In the meantime, I intend to continue to do all my banking at Augie and Tony’s Savings and Loan, where everyone who opens a new account gets a coupon for a medium pepperoni pie at Giglio’s Pizza-rama.

Get with it, or get outta town.

Yours truly,
Jimbo the Bank Crank

Rodger and the gazillion hits his site has received has smoked up his bandwidth for the time being. He can be found at his lifeboat site on BlogSpot.

Do a bookmark, so you don’t miss anything.

Banks keep popping up all over the place in the town where I live. I don’t get it. It is not a “wealthy” town by any stretch of the imagination, and yet it seems as if there are more banks in my town than there are in the city of Zurich. We have two Dunkin’ Donuts stores, one 7-11, and three Quick-Checks, but I’ll bet that we have 15 or 20 banks. WTF?

However, while the number of banks in the town and the lack of any apparent reason they are cropping up all over the place may be interesting (then again, maybe not), it is not the reason I started writing this post.

You can properly ask, “So, why are you boring us with this bank baloney, Jimbo?” I don’t have a good answer, other than to say that the words are already on the screen, and I hope that this post turns out to be at least as interesting as one of those quizzes that we all sometimes fall prey to (e.g. What kind of communicable disease are you?)

The reason for this post is that, this morning while I was walking, I noticed that one of the banks identifies itself with a large, modern sign in front of the building that that says, “Wachovia.” I thought, “Watchovia. Pretty strange name, that.”

It then dawned on me that “Wachovia” is excellent “Jerseyspeak” for “Watch over you.” You know, as in, “Don’t worry ’bout nuttin’ Kid; I’m heah to Watchovia.”

I hope, for everyone’s sake, that tomorrow’s walk results in something slightly more interesting.