Reality Check: Testing, Four, Five, Six.

Black and white photograph of a Neumann U87 mi...Image via Wikipedia

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Buzz. Whir. Pluff.


I can’t hear you! 

Cease reality check. Commence email check.

There are now 1520 emails in my inbox.

Last time I checked there were 1301.

The Google says, “You are currently using 648 MB (8 %) of your 7576 MB.” 

I’m making progress. Not much longer till my inbox explodes, an event that could be as catastrophic as Chernobyl.

I’m thinking of inviting CNN to my 7576 MB email viewing.
Dialing phone. 

Hello. Are you CNN?

I’m sorry. You’ve dialed too few numbers.


Damn! Smarmy phone. 


Hello, CNN?

Yes, hello. Who is this?

This is me.

Can you be more specific?

Me. You know. The dumbass with all the emails.

Yeah. What’s that all about? Why don’t you just delete them?

And miss an opportunity of a lifetime – to find out what happens when I reach that magic number – 7576 MB. I want to see what the Google says. Besides, there might be a cataclysmic explosion. That’s where you come in.

We cover different types of explosions: fireworks factories, nuclear reactors, oil refineries, etc. An inbox explosion doesn’t meet our carnage criteria. Why not just tune into CNN for 24/7 nonstop news. We’ll make you wish you never owned a television.

If I want to get depressed, I can go to and look up my disease du jour. It’s a great conversation piece at Hypochondriac Conventions.

We’ll then, I can’t help you. I’ve got to cover a drive-by-shooting. Now, that’s great television. Lots of shrill deafening sirens and blood-drenched sidewalks. Who could ask for anything more?

I’d rather sit in the dark and wait for my inbox to explode.

Let us know if you lose a body part or a gallon of blood, and we’ll send Anderson your way. Do you live on a tropical island or in a war-torn country?

No, just Connecticut.

Then, we’ll send the bald guy instead. Got to go! A bullet just took out a tire on an 18-wheeler. You don’t want to miss all the blood and guts splattered on your hi-def screen. 

Screeching tires. Boom!

CNN is a bigger jerk than the phone.



Don’t mess with ma belle!


Dial tone.

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Is that a Cell Tower in Your Yard or Do You Just Glow Girl?

On a murky moonless night, in a bucolic New England town with few streetlights and many twisted ankles, a 150-ft Cell Tower Cyborg disguised as a tree descended from the sky…

…landing in a blurry residential neighborhood in Ridgefield, CT.
Angry citizens stormed the streets in a black and white section of town where people drink ginger ale.
“WTF?” yelled Roquefort Macaroni, the First Selectman, a.k.a. da Mayor. “That thing is bigger than the rendering.”

“Of course it is, you schmuck,” said Citizen Blaine. “The rendering was only ledger size.”

“Crap! That was one big piece of paper,” Macaroni mumbled while searching for a Mexican restaurant on his Blackberry.

“It was 11″ x 17″- not 150-ft!  Do the math!”

“Maybe it’s like objects in rear view mirrors appearing larger than they are.
Let me get my glasses and I’ll take another look-see.”
(Sticks a contact lens in each eye.)

Closeup showing contact lensImage via Wikipedia

Holy shit! That stealth tree is an eyesore.”

“You once called it a ‘funny tree,’ pined Citizen Blaine.

“Hey, I’m looking at that monstrosity and there ain’t nothing funny about it.”

“You need to chop it down!”

“And risk pissing off the telecom stuffed shirts?  They hide microwaves in their tie clips.”
“Lesser of two evils. Better than fighting off an angry mob with torches in a non smoking area …”
An angry mob storms the Yidingmu police statio...Image via Wikipedia
“…Besides, smoke is an eyesore, too.”
Are you fighting a telecom in your neck of the woods or flatlands?

Information on Cell Towers and our fight:

Video testimonial from a doctor in Washington, CT who suffered adverse health effects from a nearby cell tower:

Full Article: Cell Tower Refugees


The Cell Tower Presentation I created from extensive research.

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Mentamucil Sponsor for InnerGiggler on Blog Talk Radio

My fake product Mentamucil -The Natural Brain Laxative is tonight’s sponsor for InnerGiggler, Linda’s entertaining radio show on Blog Talk Radio.

The show airs Sunday, April 17 at 7p.m. (west coast) and 10p.m. (east coast). Linda will read the ad at 7:15 in daylight on the west coast or in darkness on the east coast.

Let’s review! Look out your window. Is it day or night? Do you have palm trees or pine trees? If you can see palm trees, you’re on the west coast. If you can’t see pine trees, you’re on the east coast. Don’t know what’s happening in the Midwest. Do you even have any trees?

I hope you get a chance to listen. Thanks so much. 

Got to go. Time to take my Mentamucil to prevent another WTF moment. Been having them all day.
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Trump Considers Presidential Run on Girther Party Ticket

Donald Trump in February 2009Image via Wikipedia

Last week, America’s favorite crazy billionaire uncle, Donald Trump, or “The McDonald,” if you love burgers and clowns, announced his candidacy for President of the United States to a group of bus boys and coat check girls in the back room of Trump Casino.

In a rambling two-hour speech that included staff directives on “shining silverware until he could check his teeth with a spoon,” and heartwarming personal revelations on “how his shock of hair was really an imported Persian rug,” ended the staff meeting by announcing that he would be running for President on the Girther ticket.

Floyd Flummox, who covers national politics for Apathy Press and accidentally wandered into the meeting while looking for the bathroom, asked Trump why he decided to run on the Girther Ticket, a little known wing of the Republican party that believes in trimming the fat from the budget instead of their butts.

In his signature monotone style, Trump told Flummox,“That’s a very good question, Floyd. The fact is President Obama is just too skinny. We need a President with more bulk around the waist, someone you can spot on the ground from 37,000 feet. I’m talking about a large man, Floyd, a man that Spanish space aliens refer to as “un hombre corpulento.” You see, Floyd, we need a bigger ass to fill the seat in the oval office. And I’m that guy.”

Trump then went on to discuss upcoming specials at the Trump Speakeasy in the basement of a Wall Street pub. “If you can beat the house at poker, I’ll give you ten $50 chips, no money down. I swear to God.”

According to Flummox, Trump spoke at length about God and his affect on Trump’s business Christian values. Flummox cited a recent interview by David Brody of the Christian Broadcasting Network in which Trump spoke passionately about his love of God and classic Christian books.

Brody: I understand a lot of people send you Bibles. Is that true?

Trump: Well I get sent Bibles by a lot of people.

Brody: Where are all those Bibles?

Trump: Actually, we keep them at a certain place. A very nice place. But people send me Bibles. And you know it’s very interesting. I get so much mail and because I’m in this incredible location in Manhattan you can’t keep most of the mail you get.

There’s no way I would ever throw anything, to do anything negative to a Bible, so what we do is we keep all of the Bibles. 

It will be difficult for other candidates to trump Trump’s savvy media campaign. Even before primary season officially begins, the Donald has already started making cuts, as it appears he’s playing with only half a deck.

Thanks to Alex Pareene at Salon and his editorial Donald Trump is losing it where I first read about the Brody interview.

Do you think Donald Trump should be President?
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From Rants to Riches. I Got Blog Bling!

Actually, I, ahem, received two awards, one from my awesome blog buddy Mrs. Blogalot, and the other from a new awesome blog buddy Fire Crystals. Geez, doesn’t anyone have names like Pam or Lisa anymore?

Without further ado, here’s the Must Read award from a Must Read lady who is absolutely enchanting, hilarious, and an all around great gal. Making a cameo appearance with a badge from the Blogalot Times, heeeeeere’s MrsBlogalot. Bet you can’t read her blog just once.

Mrs. B’s “A Must Read Award”

Now to the Merry Musings of Fire Crystals. Though, friend, I hardly know ye well, I can tell you’re are the salt of the earth, engaging, and write with a flair. Please stop by to see what’s on Fire’s mind but don’t get too close. This blog is hot!

Fire Crystals “The Versatile Blogger Award”

The Versatile Blogger Award comes with a rider attached – List 7 Random Facts About Myself. I’m also supposed to give the award to 15 bloggers, but I’ll leave that up to you, dear readers. If you’d like to take the plunge, please grab the badge and have some fun. Please say that Lauren sent you.

7 Random Facts About Myself

1.    I live at the top of a mountain with an ecosystem that is different from every place that falls below the bottom of our access road. During the winter, the carting company didn’t pick up our garbage for an entire month. The trucks couldn’t get up the steep hill. I couldn’t walk down the steep hill whilst being leash dragged by my dog or I wouldth landed on my ass.

2.    I’m shy and awkward in a crowd. I used to be glib and able to work a room but when God handed me the 50-year milestone, it weighed down my brain, as well as my ass, breasts, and stomach.

3.    I believe in ghosts. I see dead people!but only on TV. I believe that one of our previous homes was haunted. Unrelated to that, a year ago in the early hours of the morning while awakening, I heard my grandmother call my name.

“She’s dead, Jim.”

“But Captain, I’m giving her everything she’s got!”

“She’s still dead, Jim!”

4.   I have difficulty with change, not the copper kind. To help me explain, here’s what says about change: to transform or convert (usually followed by into): The witch changed the prince into a toad. – Not my doing!

My brain gets stuck whenever I try something new. I have to yank hesitant thoughts out of brain sludge then give them a good shove.

5.   I have two mutts, a male and female, plus a cat. The male, Jake, has dry eyes, the, uh, er, bitch, Jenny, has two new knees or ligaments; the cat’s stomach sweeps the floor while she shuffles. Jenny’s a bitch because she broke the fence yesterday, and I had to chase her around the neighborhood. She thought it was a game!

6.   My brain never stops grinding out weird thoughts. I get ideas 24/7. Sometimes I feel like a medium, except that my ideas are alive and don’t leave cold spots on the rug. My ideas are the bright lights you see at the end of a tunnel, not oncoming headlights.

7.   I’m a bit of a drama queen. I become unhinged if something angers or upsets me. I guess you’d say I am passionate but I’m also a child. Speaking of children. I have a 21-year-old son. Pretty good for a kid, huh? Or not. I absolutely am not a proponent of teen pregnancy. Today, I will not touch the subject with a ten-foot pole or Armenian.

Do you see dead people?
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Government Nightmares: Starring Chef Gordon Ramsay

Bug off. The lot of you. You can’t make a bloody deal. What’s so bleeping hard? C’mon now! I don’t have all day.

I don’t understand. I’m the head of the Senate. I’ve always made a great deal. Maybe I took the deal out of the Senate too soon.

Prodding a pile of papers
Look at this!  

The pile falls, scattering papers all over the floor.

This is the worst piece of shit I’ve ever seen.

Weeping  uncontrollably
I don’t know what happened.

You’ve got to pull yourself together, man. Focus and start it all over again.

It’s the abortion component.

Do you honestly expect me to believe that? Go fuck off! Pathetic, utterly pathetic. C’mon now. It’s just a deal! For Christ’s sake, I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

Wipes tears with a hankie
I’m really trying, Chef. I’m head of the House. I can bake, sauté or broil a deal with one hand tied behind my back.

Well get to it then, you. Move your ass or piss off.

Reid and Boehner step aside for another try at making a deal. Papers fly. Voices get louder. A fistfight breaks out. Chef Ramsey steps in and separates the two.

What is bloody wrong with you? I strive for perfection. I have standards, you know. I don’t see that in either of you. Now piss off! The both of you. This deal is a total utter mess. You’ve left me no choice. Just shut it down!

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Rant Du Jour: Billionaire/Corporate Tax Cuts, What are They Good For?

Image via Wikipedia

Another Raise for the One Percent Elite?

Heaping more feed into a billionaire’s trough isn’t a Republican or a Democratic issue.  It’s an American issue.

Do Americans really want to give billionaires another raise? Do Americans really want to cut the corporate tax rate?

In order to donate more to the top 1%, Medicaid will go under the knife, cutting benefits for the most vulnerable: children, the elderly, and disabled.

Because according to Congressman Paul Ryan, it’s important to transform our social safety net into a safety hammock.

This is a future in which we will transform our social safety net into a hammock, which lulls able-bodied people into lives of complacency and dependency.

Oh, that’s right poor children, the elderly, and disabled are just lazy and complacent, always taking naps on the hammock instead of working full-time jobs. The last time I checked, we had child labor laws, unless Ryan wants to yank kids out of elementary school and put them to work on Wall Street. They’d probably do a better job.

As far as the Social Security hammock is concerned, turns out that Ryan and Social Security are old school friends.

One day as a 16 year old, Ryan came upon the lifeless body of his father. Paul Ryan, Sr. had died of a heart attack at age 55, leaving the Janesville Craig High School 10th grader, his three older brothers and sisters and his mother alone. It was Paul who told the family of his father’s death.

With his father’s passing, young Paul collected Social Security benefits until age 18, which he put away for college.

So, even though Ryan himself swung on the safety hammock for two years, others should not. I hear echoes of a politician’s hypocritic oath.

If you’d like to see which corporations and PACs contributed to Ryan’s campaign, scroll down this long list of campaign contributors, all industry and corporate heavy weights, from bankers to insurers, to right to life PACs, all those interested in dismantling the social safety net.

To my Republican friends, sure cutting the budget sounds sexy, and I agree there should be cuts. But these cuts are not about reducing the deficit. These cuts are about destroying the middle class.

Are middle class Republicans willing to take one for the team?

The budget cuts and tax cuts are not designed to help Americans. They are designed to help corporations and billionaires.

We already know that many corporations don’t even pay taxes, while stockpiling profits in offshore bank accounts in the Cayman Islands. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.

Why hasn’t ten years of billionaire tax cuts created more jobs? Because tax cuts don’t create jobs. It’s a fantasy. If anything, tax cuts just perpetuate greed.

Republicans are not just the problem. It’s politicians in general. Democrats also like to keep a hope chest of lobbyist dollars beneath the people’s seat. Sure, the Dems don’t want to see such severe budget cuts but stop the buck right here by not barbecuing all that pork. Yes, I know. Republicans like pork, too.

We all believe that we need to cut spending and reduce the deficit, but we have to be fair and smart about it. Giving billionaires and corporations a raise by cutting important life saving programs sounds pretty dumb to me.

Yes, the bureaucracy is bloated. Yes, fat needs to be cut from the budget. Privatization of industry doesn’t eliminate bureaucracy or reduce incompetency. It just creates fatter cats.

We see how well privatizing healthcare turned out. How many people have been turned down for life saving procedures or operations that ultimately led to their deaths? For corporations, it’s all about the bottom line. People are just numbers.

Just look at all the corporate profits in 2010 and the unemployment rate. It’s obvious corporations are more concerned with making profits than giving back to society. Privatizing any industry would not be good for the American people. It would be good for corporate profits.

And that is why God created lobbyists and deep pockets. At the end of the day, whoever has the most money wins. Congratulations top one percent!

Everyone else below the grade just follow the herd over the cliff, you poor pathetic sheep.

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Humor Helps but at Times There’s Nothing like a Good Rant

The Statue of Liberty front shot, on Liberty I...Image via Wikipedia

Several years ago, the universe shifted and knocked most of us off our feet, while others still reap in the rewards.

The ground is still not stable.

Every day we struggle to find a piece of debris that once was the American dream. The dream that has gotten away from most of us, that only one percent still holds.

Economic bon vivants and talking empty heads vomit words fed to them by lobbyists, while dining at restaurants, as, we, the people eat table scraps scattered on the floor.

It used to be easy to get in the door, but now there is a schism so wide it extends from shore to darkened shore, preventing us from picking up the dusty remnants of the American dream.

We dust it off the homes we have to say goodbye to.

We dust it off the cars that were repossessed.

We dust it off our savings that dies slowly, while hooked up to life support.

We lost everything we once took for granted that we can’t take for granted anymore.

But not the bankers, politicians, and CEOs. They climb higher toward the pie in the sky on the greenbacks of the people that fell beneath them.

They are royalty and fat cats, gathering the leave-behinds that get smaller in the rearview mirrors of the cars driven by every man, for he is the fool who pays taxes and follows the rules as lawyers hired by royalty help them jump through loopholes in the Cayman Islands.

But there are other places to go.

They move their corporations out of the United States to countries with lower tax rates. See the jobs disappear faster than a politician can pull a lobbyist out his ass.

Now the fat cats own the American dream, while Americans sit and dream of the way life used to be.

There was a time we derived pleasure from simplicity but nothing’s simple anymore.

Several years ago, the universe shifted and knocked most of us off our feet, while others still reap in the rewards.

How can that be? When the dream died, did it put the CEOs in charge?

When did, we, the people snuff the fire from our eyes?

The fire is our only hope for taking back the American dream. Out of the ashes our dreams will one day grow.

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