To all those who stop by the House by the Parkway, I wish you a happy, healthy and prosperous new year – a year that will bring genuine change.

See you in 2010.

Something is going on.

I spent a couple hours in Lowe’s today, and I really didn’t mind. It used to be that five minutes in Lowe’s was five minutes too many. Could it be a retirement thing?

I used to be able to wear a tee shirt and shorts in the house all winter long, but now I sport a thermal shirt and sweat pants. Could that also be a retirement (getting old) thing? Then again, losing sixty pounds (on purpose) might have something to do with it.

If I find myself watching daytime television, I hope one of you will be kind enough to come to the House by the Parkway and shoot me.

That is all.

At the moment, I find myself unable to write anything worth a damn, particularly anything even remotely humorous. That’s because I’m having difficulty thinking about much of anything except how close some murdering bastard came to blowing an American airliner out of the sky on Christmas day. When I consider the governmental incompetence that resulted in the attack and the governmental incompetence, stupidity and outright mendacity that followed it, I am sickened and frankly terrified.

So, it is on days like this, when I need to take my mind off the horror stories in the news, I enjoy taking a look at what our old pal Carl Brannen has been thinking about. Carl’s latest meanderings concern a matter that has phenomenologists in a bit of an uproar. Of course, I am referring to the controversy swirling around the Wolfenstein parametrization for the Kobayashi-Maskawa matrix. Read it carefully, as I am considering giving a quiz.

Carl farookin’ rocks.

Following his ethanol-powered speech on the Senate floor about “Healthcare,” Senator Max Baucus, the Distinguished Shitfaced Gentleman from Montana, received numerous phone messages. PRS Operatives have again employed their proprietary technical skills to obtain access to the senator’s answering machine. Here is a sample of what they heard:

BEEEEEEP
Max, Barney Fwank here. Man, that speech sent a tingle down my leg. You weally spoke truth to power. I’d like to invite you over to my place for drinks and whatever. I’ll whip up a gallon or so of cosmos and break out some awesome oils and a new box of poppers. I promise, it will be awesome. Give me a call.

BEEEEEEP
Hi, I saw your speech. My name is Bill, from the local A.A. group. Dude, I think you need to come to a meeting. Call me.

BEEEEEEP
Max, it’s Keith Olbermann. That was a fabulous speech. I’d like to buy a case of whatever it was you drank. It would really jazz up my already-excellent special commentaries. Phone or email will be fine. Good night and good luck.

BEEEEEEP
Mr. Baucus, this is Jack, the bartender. Man, you weren’t kidding when you said after your tenth drink that you were going into the Senate chamber and kick some ass. That was awesome. I have your regular seat saved. Oh, and thanks for the fifty.

BEEEEEEP
Senator, it’s Gino the dry cleaner speaking. I’m sorry, but I can’t get the puke stains off your suits any more. You’re either going to have to get new suits or a new dry cleaner. You can pick up your soiled suits during regular business hours. I have six of them.

This guy may even be a bigger asshole than the Distinguished Gentlemen from New Jersey.

The system worked? Really?

This woman should be fired.

She should have been fired long ago.

Here are a few of the excellent Christmas gifties I received yesterday.

From left to right, they are:

Jefferson’s Reserve Bourbon

Hudson Four Grain Bourbon Whiskey

Sam Houston Bourbon

Michter’s Small Batch Bourbon

Russell’s Reserve 10-Year Old Bourbon

I know there’s quite a bit of tasting to be done, but I think I’m up to the task.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL FROM THE HOUSE BY THE PARKWAY

El Cap is at it again.

This time, in the spirit of the Holidays Christmas, he’s created a nativity scene, in which he has placed the reprobates bloggers who have been known to frequent drunken blabfests creative writing conferences, also sometimes known as blogmeets.

I’m pretty easy to pick out, but I can’t figure out who the angel is. How did ever I miss her? Maybe it was that stuff in the mason jar I drank.

I have spent the better part of the day with smoke pouring out of my ears thinking about that rat bastard Harry Reid and his co-conspirators doing everything possible to transform me from a citizen of a constitutional republic to a subject of the Washington D.C. oligarchy.

Fortunately, I was reminded that there still may be hope for the country (real hope, not the Barack variety) when I heard this song performed by third-grade students at Colonial Heights’ Tussing Elementary School in Virginia.

Unfortunately, the children singing this song will be the ones saddled with the mess that Obama, Reid, Pelosi et al. are creating.

Thanks to Da Chef of da Future