I just read a post at The Coalition of the Swilling about your singing the National Anthem at one of the gazillion bowl games being held this year. I hope you sing better than you act.

See, the thing is, I think you’re an asshole. I’ve thought that for quite some time (years, in fact), but I never got around to telling you that, or telling you why I think you’re an asshole. No time like the present.

Roughly a quarter century ago, my daughter, who was a little girl at the time, used to watch you on that dumbass talking car show. She didn’t think it was a dumbass show, but that’s because she was a child. Anyway, she was quite star struck, so much so that she decided to write you a fan letter. Believing I was wise in most matters, as little girls are wont to believe, she asked me if I thought that writing you a letter was a good idea.

I told her that it was a great idea, and I even went so far as to suggest that she request a photo. I told her that she would probably hear from you. What I didn’t tell her is that I knew that people such as you, with a hit TV show that had a particular appeal to children, get lots of letters from admiring, young fans and that people like you had someone (perhaps an agency) routinely respond to such letters.

She happily worked on her letter and even asked me to look it over. I told her it was a terrific letter, because it was. We mailed her letter, and, of course, she dutifully checked the mail every day for a response. Days, then weeks went by, and when it became apparent that she would not receive a response, I told her that you were probably very, very busy, but that you, no doubt, appreciated hearing from her. I did not tell her that I had concluded that you are an asshole.

Now, she’s well educated and all grown up, so I’m certain that she realizes that dads sometimes have to shade the truth to spare their little girl’s feelings. I’m also certain that, being all grown up and being particularly bright, she thinks you’re an asshole.

Do I hold a grudge? Damned straight, asshole.

Very truly yours,
Jim
Parkway Rest Stop
P.S. I’d sooner shovel shit than listen to you sing anything, much less the National Anthem.

Unless you have been in a coma for the past week or so, you know about Bernard Madoff and his fifty-billion dollar Ponzi scheme. I suppose it doesn’t take much more than a truly black heart to bilk people out of their life savings and bankrupt a charity or two – any con man can do that, but this guy has also ensnared sophisticated investigators, including hedge fund operators.

But, what earns Bernie da Woim the prestigious Brass Stindeens Award is that he included among his investors, former New York Governor, Eliot Spitzer, who made his political bones as New York’s Attorney General by being the “Sheriff of Wall Street.” Good eye, Eliot.

First, it was the hooker thing and now this. Definitely not a banner year for ol’ Eliot, but he did manage to enable Bernie Da Woim to win an award.

The weather folks were quite certain that snow was coming our way. I knew they were right, because, with many years of snow experience, one can actually smell impending snow (no kidding), and it smelled like snow.

In anticipation of the promised snow, I picked up a new gas can and some bottles of gookum that has to be mixed with the gas (2-cycle engine oil for you wrench peeps), then filled up the gas can, mixed in the gookum and filled up the Big, Fat, Black Capitalist Car while I was at it. Of course, I never touched the gas pump, for in New Jersey we don’t pump our own gas (Yes!!).

Upon arriving back to the House by the Parkway, I made sure that I filled the calcium chloride ice-melting-stuff bottle/sprinklers, and got two snow shovels out of the garage and positioned one in the front of the house for shoveling the front steps and the other in the back, poised to shovel off the deck.

Damn, I felt very responsible.

About an hour or so into the snowfall, it was clear that these were not snow flurries, but the real deal. I went outside to drag the snowblower from the shed (dragging it across the yard in deep snow is a bummer) to position it in the garage for later use.

Then, I acted like someone who just moved here from Florida.

I thought, “Yo, even though it is snowing like a bastard, I’ll fire up the snowblower and get a jump on the cleanup.” About thirty minutes of snow blowing later, I looked a bit like the abominable snowdoosh, and the driveway and sidewalk looked as if they had never been cleaned. I know that my friend Richmond has to snowblow while the snow is still falling in order to keep from being totally buried, but, hey, that’s Wis-farookin’-consin. I shoulda known better.

So, the then-current game plan was to wait until the snow stops before I head outside to snowblow. Problem is that the heavy snow has now turned into icy rain and freakin’ sleet, which, of course turns everything to slop that is as heavy as concrete. Worse yet, the forecast says that it will turn back into snow later tonight. My game plan is in the dumper.

I hate this shit.

I do, however, have plenty of vodka on hand.

Let’s talk laundry for a minute, shall we, for I am, after all, a Laundry Guy.

One of today’s loads was “darks.” Sometimes “darks” contains various shades of “dark,” and sometimes even a color or two creeps into the mix. It’s all good, as long as one sticks with cold water. Ahhh, but today’s load of darks happened to be all seriously dark things – primarily blacks and blues, one such blue thing being a pair of Mrs. Parkway’s jeans.

Now, when I wash my own jeans, I always check the pockets, because one never knows what is lurking around in those babies – change, paper money, cigarette lighters, etc. By contrast, I never bother to search through the pockets of Mrs. Parkway’s jeans, because unlike me, she is not a careless slob who willy-nilly tosses her duds into the laundry basket.

You probably can see where this is headed, no?

Suffice it to say that, in the future, I will be searching the pockets of Mrs. Parkway’s jeans before I commit them to the depths of Lake Maytag.

Do you have any idea what a couple tissues left in a pants pocket can do to a load of blacks and blues? Had to be ten thousand little white paper yitchkees all over the clothes. Very bad news.

A good Laundry Guy learns from his mistakes, and I am a good farookin’ Laundry Guy.

That is all.

What to do when you are too tired, too frazzled, and too cranky to create something interesting or humorous? Simple. You fall back on a MEME.

I got this one from Mostly Cajun, and he got it from El Capitan.

Try to contain yourselves as I reveal [s] extremely interesting [/s] things about my badself.

Do you remember your first favorite song? If so, what was it?
“My Heart Cries for You” I was a mere squirt, but my mother told me that I could sing all the words — with soul.

What do you refuse to eat?
All seafood except for shrimp, which I learned to eat so as to be able to not screw up the dinner plans of those who wish to eat at a seafood joint. I also won’t eat anything that I saw when it was alive. I prefer meat from the supermarket on a Styrofoam tray wrapped in clear plastic wrap and bearing a price tag. Finally, bugs and boogers got no shot.

Have you ever injected any kind of drug before?
Zillions of times to lab animals, but never to myself. For my part, I was particularly fond of the pneumatic guns the Army used to “squirt” stuff into your arm. Yeef!

Do amusement park rides make you sick?
Ones that do nothing but spin might. Roller coasters and similar rides, no. By contrast, Barney Frank always makes me sick.

Who is your favorite Star Wars character?
Obi what’shisname.

What kind of cheese do you put on your sandwiches?
American or Swiss usually. Not a fan of seriously stinky cheese.

What was the first thing you ever learned how to cook?
Fried eggs.

Did you ever collect beanie babies?
Nope. I once considered collecting humorous cummerbunds, but I soon learned that they were too rare to be worth the investment in time.

When was the last time you got a haircut?
Almost five weeks ago. I’m due this week. I take hair care quite seriously.

Have you ever been to a bachelor/bachelorette party?
Oh yeah. Someday I’ll write about mine. Teaser: It involved nudity and a bowling ball. Really.

Where are you most ticklish on your body?
Not really ticklish. I was when I was a kid. Nowadays I’m too cranky.

Have you ever bailed anyone out of jail?
No, but remind me to tell you the story about the pro bono client I visited in jail. It’s a moderately funny story, but I’m too tired at the moment to tell it.

What’s the last board game you played?
Scrabble. I’m not real good at it. I’m too busy trying to think of fifty cent words, while those who are good at it always get the triple word scores with douche bag words, making me and “laconic” look pretty stupid.

Do you still own any VHS tapes?
A shitload. Nothing to play them on. Progress sometimes sucks. I’m hopeful that Obama will do something for us VHS tape owners.

Do you shop at JC Penney’s ever?
Nope, but I once knew a guy who got some pretty cool shoes there. Maybe it was a shirt. Like I said, I’m pretty tired.

If there was a real Jurassic Park, would you visit it?
No farookin’ way. Dinosaurs are, to me, like alligators raised to the tenth power. Good grief.

Do you ever read the newspaper?
Not the dead tree versions. By the way, I can’t believe people actually pay to read the New York Times.

Do you eat your mac & cheese with a fork or a spoon?
Fork. Fork me? Fork YOU!

Is there any medicine/pill you take every day?
Two. They seem to be working. Doctor Doctor is pleased, and so am I.

How many 20 dollar bills do you have on you right now?
None at the moment, but when I emptied my pockets on the table a few hours ago, I believe there were four. I had two more, but the liquor store owns them now.

Would you do meth if it was legalized?
No thanks. That is some seriously bad shit.

Do you think Obama will be assassinated?
I don’t like the guy, but I certainly would not want that to happen. I would be happy if he would just wise up.

Have you ever made out with someone and then never saw them again?
I’m sure I did in my yoot.

Do you drink egg nog?
Definitely (with a tad of dark rum or brandy). I also like egg nog ice cream.

What are you wearing?
Sweat pants and a raggedy, very comfortable blue tee shirt. I figure some day it will be in style.

I am seriously crabby. Here are but a few reasons why:

1. Some maniac torches Sarah Palin’s church while people are inside, and it gets only slightly more coverage than would a covered dish dinner by the Rosary Society. This is the same press that flooded Wasilla with reporters to uncover the big tanning bed story. Imagine if it were Obama’s church, or Biden’s?

2. The Governor of New York wants to institute an “obesity tax” on non-diet soft drinks. What’s next? A fat-content Twinkie Tax? Just more Nanny State bullshit social engineering. This is just the goddamned beginning. Count on it.

3. Speaking of bullshit, the President-elect and his “Energy Team” are gearing up to destroy the coal industry, and take other measures, which, by the President-elect’s own admission, will cause electricity prices to “skyrocket.” Swell idea. That’s what the economy needs right about now. But, not to worry, because he’s going to create a zillion “Green” jobs. Has anyone ever asked him exactly how he plans to do that? No, because during the campaign the press was in Wasilla and now our Fourth Estate is busy breaking its collective ass assuring us that Rahm Emmanuel is as pure as the goddamned driven snow and that he and Barack swam in the Chicago shit for years and ended up stink-free.

I am pleased to be one of the many Jersey Bloggers, of all stripes, who have united to seek your help for the New Jersey Food Bank. As this video makes clear, the number of people (some of whom may be your friends or family) who find themselves in need of the services provided by their local food banks has been dramatically increasing, while donations have been dramatically decreasing

You can pitch in by making a monetary donation, but if you find yourself unable to do that, please consider making a donation of food to your local food banks. I have to believe you can open your cabinets and fill up at least one grocery bag full of food that you, thankfully, can spare. We at the House by the Parkway did just that a week or so ago in connection with a food drive run at work, and I was happy to see the photographs of a full-sized van loaded with food heading off to the local food bank.

New Jersey Premier Blogger, Tigerhawk, has made a very generous offer. He has indicated that he will match your monetary contribution, dollar for dollar. The details are here.

It’s extremely rare that so many bloggers can agree about anything, but it is gratifying to see that we have come together for this cause.

Please do what you can. If you can’t donate money, it’s OK, but how about donating a bag of groceries? Take a look in your kitchen cabinets. I’m sure you can fill up a bag of things you don’t need to give to people who need them very much.

Update: I had written this post several hours ago and immediately headed off for Mr. Recliner, where I pretended to watch television. I only now realized that I had accidentally published it as a separate page rather than a regular entry, which is interesting seeing as how I don’t know how I managed to do that.. I still don’t get the separate page thing.

Check it out over at Erica’s place. Great stuff. If these guys aren’t professional dancers, they ought to be.

Sure, I like Merle Haggard, Waylon, and Johnny Cash, but I also have the complete Judy Garland collection, and several Peter Allen discs.

Youse got a problem wit dat?

Here, in New Jersey, where we have sections of cities that look like some shithole in Somolia and which are equally dangerous, and where you can’t spit without hitting a crooked politician, our Crime Busting Attorney General, Anne Milgram, a Jon Corzine appointee, turned the state’s law enforcement guns on the company that sells Kinoki Foot Pads!

Perhaps you have seen the infomercials. These are the lily-white pads you stick to the bottoms of your feet while you sleep, and the next morning when you remove them, they are all brown and nasty looking. According to the seller of this product, this is because the pads are busy removing all sorts of dreadful toxins from your blood. Of course, the claim is complete rubbish.

Ms. Milgram is following in the footsteps of her predecessor, Peter Harvey, whose office wrestled Blockbuster to the ground over late fees, while U.S. Attorney Christopher Christie was successfully prosecuting a boatload of crooked state politicians.

Arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic?

You betcha!

Sometime around noon today, it occurred to me that I was drafted into the Army forty years ago today. That, in turn, reminded me of my pre-induction physical and the guy who showed up in the dress.

It sure doesn’t seem like forty years ago that I arrived on a cold night at Fort Dix with a busload of guys, mostly shit scared, who were about to have their worlds turned upside down.

Those of you who may be relatively new around the House by the Parkway, might be interested in a series of posts I did describing my adventures in Basic Training at Fort Dix, where I did everything possible to figure out a way to serve my country as a Remington Raider. The links to the posts are here. I reread them from time to time, and I think they’re pretty funny, but maybe you had to be there.