I don't care where we go.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
It is late at night.
Your facilities and judgement may be compromised.
Perhaps you are in search of some sort of snack.
We have all been in the situation, sure...
Pay close attention to what snacking options you are presented with.
For example, what you might hear as "Reece's Monkey" - that you could interpret as a chocolate, filled with peanut butter, shaped like a monkey...
Could be something else entirely.
You gotta be careful about that shit, you know.
That sort of miscommunication could ruin the entire evening's vibe.
I am not saying that I have, or have not, been in this exact set of circumstances.
I am just saying...
Should you find yourself in such an awkward situation, don't freak out.
Just be cool.
Nobody wants any grief.
Especially the monkey...
Friday, February 26, 2010
I don't want to go into the business of laundering other folks garments.
It did occur that it might be great fun, given the right circumstances.
The key is the alterations side of the business.
Every time that rude customer drops off...
Pick one of the following.-
Shorten the pants 3/8" at the hem.
Same deal with the sleeves on jackets.
Take in pants a half size.
Shorten the pants pockets.
Reattach two shirt buttons with only a single thread.
That is just the way I think, I suppose.
Be nice to your dry cleaner.
Be nice to the folks you do business with.
Because they might just fuck with you, for fun, if you act like an ass.
Posted by Scott Bartley at 11:54 AM
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
That whole TARP program worked great!
Bonuses to folks at Wall Street firms shot up 17% for 2009 performance.
Totaling around $20.3 billion dollars, or roughly $130,000 per person.
While most of us didn't quite grasp what an awesome year it was, and many were seeking cover under actual tarps...
We can look to Wall Street and realize that 2009 was at least 17% better than the year before.
At this rate, 2010 should be amazing!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
It seems that pediatricians are pushing for a redesign of the hot dog, because they pose such a tremendous choking hazard.
At the very least, they want the venerable frank relabeled.
Yeah, that classic institution of sausage, under attack - in an effort to save the children.
"I think there should be a commitment from the entire industry to label not only hot dogs but all high-risk foods with some type of informational label that allows consumers to make informed decisions," Smith said, adding that he thought companies would figure out that "safety sells."
We are talking about hot dogs.
Listen, if you are worried about your kid choking on wieners and grapes - you probably need to pull them out of the after school activities at the Catholic church as well.
I would be more worried about that, personally...
Fucking people, man.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
There has been a lot of talk about how dangerous the conditions are in multiple events at this years Winter Olympics, for competitors.
We have all heard about the luge dude, killed at the last turn.
If you haven't, I can point you towards video of his head getting cracked like a nut. Pretty gruesome.
The down hill skiing deal is also getting press for it's risks.
Listen, if you are throwing yourself down a mountain or ice tube, there are going to be risks.
If the goal of your chosen sport is to go faster than everybody else, there is a greater chance you are going to get a little over your edge of control.
Maybe this years slopes and luge track are a bit more vicious than they have been at past Olympics.
But the point of all of those games is to haul fucking ass, faster than everybody else, down a perilous course - is it not?
That is the whole point, right?
That is how you get the medal.
The ice dancers are not griping about the dangerous conditions of the ice dancing venue.
Because they chose a sport that involves gracefully skimming across some ice, and not one that is comparable to tossing ones self off a glacier.
Now following that, who in the hell calls themselves a racecourse designer - and puts rows of unprotected metal/concrete polls at the exits of fast corners.
That is pure criminal design that is beyond my understanding.
The premise of track design in to create a circuit which both pushes a racers skills and also the overall sport. Faster speeds and times suggest that the course in Vancouver does what it is supposed to, get people on luges moving fast.
I am no luge track designer, but I have gone around enough corners at a high rate of speed to know that you are better off keeping away from the big, hard things.
Placing immovable objects in the run-off/crash zone of a high speed curve is just negligence.
Anyway, doing dangerous shit is risky.
Safety rules are written with blood.
Everybody has to decide for themselves if maybe ice dancing might be more their speed.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
I assume you are already listening to this song, as part of your celebration of the Chinese New Year.
Or maybe you are just cool, like me, and listen to this song all of the freaking time.
Here is you chance to hear this totally awesome Survivor song, one more time.
Happy Year of the Tiger!
Posted by Scott Bartley at 4:00 AM
Saturday, February 13, 2010
There he is.
Or whats left of him.
He was a real guy, ya know.
Before he was the patron saint of greeting card companies and flower shops.
That is his skull right there.
In a shrine, in some church, in Rome.
Well, I hope you get laid.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Three bulls stood atop a hill above a bucolic pasture.
The youngest bull, notices some hot heifers in the pasture and says "Let's run down there and screw one of them girls!"
The older bull asks "Why don't we just walk down there and do all of 'em?"
The depressed bull looks at the other two, and says "Oh, what is the fucking point? We're all hamburger in a manner of weeks, anyway. Those heifers are not even going to talk to us, for Christ's sake! You two are abhorrent, degenerate assholes. I am just going to have a bit of a sit by the pond and try to come to terms with this holy shitball of life...do whatever the fuck you want, just leave me alone..."
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
It is that time of year, when will look to our friends the groundhogs on matters of season and weather.
Sure, most folks will refer to that Phil, the Pennsylvania hedgehog.
I only trust the official groundhog of the great state of Ohio for my predictions regarding the duration of winter.
Posted by Scott Bartley at 2:23 PM