Greg's Blurty
 
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Greg's Blurty:

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    Thursday, December 17th, 2009
    4:21 am
    My Week So Far
    This has been the kind of week that makes you wonder more than usual about why suicide is considered a bad thing. First, Oral Roberts died. Now what I am going to do when I need faith healing? Or when my car and computer, both of which developed major problems yesterday, need faith healing?

    Here we are, stranded in a world where nothing works and every minute brings another breakdown of some kind and our number one mechanic has run off to Heaven...it's a lot like Reno, it's very easy to get married and divorced and you can still find 99 cent shrimp cocktails there...with God. Now, when our moral, spiritual, physical and mechanical possessions stop working, we have no choice but to just throw them away.

    Like our landfills weren't already overcrowded enough. Pretty soon we're going to be drowning in spiritual as well as physical waste. But it's not all bad. Well, it's not all bad for me. For you, it probably is all bad. You shouldn't feel too bad about that, though, because the good thing for me isn't all that good.

    Did you see how Nevada is getting close to allowing male prostitutes? Well, that has opened up a huge new employment opportunity for me. Yesterday, I got a letter from the Dollar Store. It seems they did some research and found that more than 90% of their customer base is female and they like having sex.

    They analyzed all that data and decided to open a brothel. And they want to hire me. I was flattered of course. I don't think I'll ever go into that line of work but it's nice to be asked. Of course, Suzette tried to ruin it.

    "At a dollar, you would be way overpriced," She said. "Maybe if they have a Two For Tuesdays deal or maybe an all you can eat kind of deal, you wouldn't be outrageously expensive but you aren't worth a dollar for one time."

    Why am I surrounded by defective cars and computers and senile people? And cold weather? Or at least I was surrounded by them yesterday. I'm sure today will be better.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---George Noory, WOC AM 1420
    Wednesday, December 16th, 2009
    4:14 am
    God And Politics
    This was yet another day that couldn't have been any more average or ordinary if it had tried. It started with breakfast at the White House. Well, it was supposed to start with breakfast at the White House but when I got there, the guy at the door said, "I'm sorry, sir, but you're on the guest list, so I can't let you in."

    When I asked him why, he said, "If we let the invited guests in, we wouldn't have room for the uninvited guests." Do you ever get the feeling that Gracie Allen is now running the country? Or at least the White House?

    No big deal. I went down to The Bread Line and had a couple of bagels a block away from the White House. What I didn't have was the high level security briefing that I was supposed to get and thus didn't know which terrorists I was supposed to aid and which I was supposed to stop and that bothered me for a minute but then I decided that it was a sign from God that I was just supposed to take the day off.

    And that got me to wondering what else God is trying to tell me. Take yesterday, for example. Oral Roberts died, on the same day the Washington City Council voted to approve gay marriages. Was that a wacky coincidence or a message?

    But it didn't stop there. A few days ago, JC, for the first time in decades called Coast and complained about the coruptizing of America. Then, the night before, an alcoholic called called Coast and told about how Jesus had saved him from drinking and therefore had saved his life.

    I've always wondered about that line of thinking. I mean, if you believe in God, it naturally follows that you believe in Heaven and why would anyone in their right mind ask Jesus to save them here and deny them early access to paradise?

    As I was thinking about that, it reminded me of the time a few weeks ago when Ian Punnett asked, "If there really is a Heaven, why are we wasting all this time here?"

    That's a whole lot to think about at breakfast. It's almost overwhelming. Thank God, I ran into an friend who offered me a distraction. "Do you have any plans for today?" He asked.

    "No, senator," I said and he said, "Why don't you help me with some important pending legislation, then?"

    That sounded good, so I went with him to the Gaylord National Resort and spent the day drinking and cavorting with high priced call girls. I'm still not entirely sure what God is trying to tell me but I am happy with the way His messenger service is improving. I think I'm a little closer to understanding politics now, too.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---George Noory, WOC AM 1420
    Tuesday, December 15th, 2009
    4:32 pm
    My Next TV Project
    On Sunday...after I went to church, of course...I read the shortest blog I would read that day (And you should read it, too but later, cause this is the ME SHOW) and shortly after that, I had the best two ideas for new TV series that I'd had all day. I was going to tell you about of them tonight and then speculate on whether or not there was any connection between the shortest blog and the great ideas but then I rethought the whole thing and decided to save one of the shows and the speculation for another day when I have no other ideas.

    That will probably be tomorrow but it doesn't matter because this is tonight and tonight we have this great idea for a brand new sit-com. The other one, the one we're saving for a future date is a reality show and if you're the type who gets all upset over spoilers, just pretend you didn't read this sentence.

    The sit-com is about Bob and Carol, a perfectly average married couple in their mid-forties who live in Southern California at 148 Bonnie Meadow Road in the fictional suburb of Mayfield, which I made up just for this show. He's a doctor but he's a little more than just a doctor. He works the Mustard Clinic, one of the best medical centers in the world and he's one of the best cancer specialists in the world.

    Carol is a lawyer. She works for the AIAU (American International Amnesty Union) and she's the world's leading death penalty defense attorney. As you might have already guessed, he's a conservative and she's a liberal and that's a constant source of conflict between them.

    They also cheat on each other...but they don't just cheat on each other, they cheat on each other in such epically huge ways that it would make a Kennedy or even Hank Moody blush...but that isn't a big source of tension. They each know about the other's infidelity but they use a don't ask, don't tell policy and it works for them.

    Their next door neighbors, Ted and Alice are another completely average couple in their mid forties. Ted is a dentist and Alice is a housewife...but Jerry thinks she should be an astronaut because he keeps offering to send her to the moon. I've considered changing their names to Jerry and Millie but that would somehow impede a rhythm that is definitely there but I can't quite put my finger on it, so they remain Ted and Alice.

    Now I'm about to give you a real treat in the form of a bit of the script for the pilot. The reason that it's a treat is that it's a pre-rough draft sketchy unfinished fragment as opposed to a highly polished final product and most people who aren't in the entertainment industry and/or intimately involved with someone in the entertainment industry never get to see a pre-rough draft sketchy unfinished fragment.

    Unless they watch TV. Or go to the movies. Or read novels. Or see plays. Or listen to the radio. Or live in or near Los Angeles because every waiter, waitress and valet car parker carries one all the time and is always willing to show it to anyone with a pulse. Please understand that I'm not saying that there way too many lazy writers, sloppy producers and apathetic directors out there...I'm not saying that at all, I'm simply letting you make up your own mind on it.

    So, if you aren't in the entertainment industry and/or intimately involved with someone in the entertainment industry...ladies, if you'd like to be intimately involved with someone in the entertainment industry, this is your lucky day because I have a few slots open, just form an orderly line and please, no pushing or shoving... or don't live in or near LA, prepare to be treated. If you are in the entertainment industry and/or intimately involved with someone in the entertainment industry, this will be another day at the office but that's OK, because it's really really good.

    The lime is early latish evening. The setting is Bob and Carol Baxter's living room. Hazel, their maid, has just informed them that dinner will be ready shortly and has left the room.

    Carol sits on the sofa, takes a file from her briefcase and lights a cigarette.

    Bob: Haven't I asked you to not smoke in the house?

    Carol, after leaning over and blowing smoke in his face: And haven't I asked you to not tell me what to do?

    Bob, sighing: I suppose if I'd just had a long hard day yanking murderers, rapists, child molesters, drug dealers and common street thugs out of the death chamber and putting them back on the streets, I would want to do as much damage to my lungs as I could, too.

    Carol, laughing: At least I save my patients. How many did you lose today, doctor?"

    OK, you might be retching right now but remember that I warned you that it was a pre-rough draft sketchy unfinished fragment and now that you've seen one, your life is whole. You also know how little it takes to get a series green-lighted by a major pay network...thank God for lazy, sloppy, apathetic network executives.

    And now all I have to do is turn this into a something really good. That means I'm going to be working solidly for weeks on end, giving up everything else and....no, wait. I have a better idea. I am going to make this my first (And quite possibly only, so don't let this golden opportunity slip through your fingers) BLOG CHALLENGE.

    All you have to do is take the information I've given you about the show and write a really good scene for it. It just needs to be broadcast quality and it needs to be on my desk no later than nine tomorrow morning. That's all. And don't worry about all the fame, glory, power, money and all the other bad downsides of show business that your mother warned you about because I am going to deal with them so you won't have to.

    What you are going to get is the satisfaction of knowing that you did the job the best you could and there is no higher reward than that. And when people try to tell you that you are unpaid slave labor and you're being taken advantage of, have pity on them for they are Godless heathen communists who will suffer in the roiling pits of boiling sewage in the lowest, deepest darkest level of Hell for all eternity when they die.

    You, on the other hand, will be in Heaven. With me. And I'll even buy you a drink. Now start writing. Oh, if you need another example of how not to write a pilot, go back and watch the first episode of The United States Of Tara again. Then give me the kind of writing they gave us in the episodes after the pilot.

    You're still here? Go! Get busy! This pilot isn't going to write itself, you know!

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Monday December 14, 2009
    Monday, December 14th, 2009
    5:38 am
    You Are Going To Die Poor, Drunk And Alone
    OR:

    I Call It A Couple Of Big Juicy Orgasms Between Friends

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Last night, after Dexter...A show I've never really liked all that much but which has grown on me this season for some reason...they had an interview with Michael C. Hall and John Lithgow and John said something that applies to me and the season finale of Californication (Season 3 Episode 12: Mia Culpa): I'm just glad that I'm not writing the show next season.

    It's not that I don't think I could do it because I think I could (And Lord knows that I could do a better job than the regular writers did on some episodes) but it's that I don't know if I could do it as well as it should be done because they raised the bar so high last night.

    And where and how do we start to talk about how good it was? How about with the X-Files? This episode was very X-Files-ish...not a new thing, they did it fairly often in Season 1 with the dreams and the church...and it gets points for that. Most of the dialogue was really good and all the insane situations that were taken from current events were done right.

    What impressed me the most, though, was I think the final few minutes when they cut out the dialogue completely. We don't know exactly what Hank and Karen were saying and that leaves for the writers a lot of flexibility but beyond that, it was very powerful.

    And that, along with the use of Rocket Man (The original, not a recent cover like they so often do) was brilliant. Another brilliant thing was that this one forgot that it's a comedy...and made it work anyway. This is proof, kids, that you can break unbreakable rules if you know what you're doing.

    The big risk in that is that you might do what the writers of Californication did last night and that is to create your very own Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Band. And how do you top that? It ain't easy. Just ask Sir Paul McCartney. And then ask him what he thinks of the critics who expect him to create a new Pepper every six months for the rest of forever.

    And that brings us right back to me not wanting to write any of next season's shows. I just hope that they pick talented people who love the show and care about the characters as much as I do for the job.

    I'm sure that I'll talk more about this episode later, when I don't have a headache and can actually think about it and the cool thing is there's plenty of time before the new season starts 900 years from now.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Ian Punnett, WOC AM1420
    Sunday, December 13th, 2009
    2:59 pm
    Today's Random Coast And Local Writers' List Notes
    Have you ever wished that you were a little older? I know it sounds insane, especially in this youth obsessed culture but if you listened to Coast To Coast AM this morning, it doesn't sound quite so crazy. Because first hour guest H. Keith Melton let it slip that LSD was first developed as an asthma treatment in the 1950's.

    Especially if you were born with severe asthma, like I was. When I told Suzette about it, she said, "It's highly unlikely that they were still using LSD as an asthma treatment in 1964, especially on babies...but then again, it would explain so much. I'm going to have to ask your mom if they did."

    I'm pretty sure they didn't give me acid when I was an infant to get rid of my asthma but wouldn't it have been cool if they did? I think I never would have gotten rid of that disease. I could still be getting treatments today! But, no. Because life just isn't fair. And because of that, instead of blissfully floating away from this terrible place on yet another pharmaceutical grade acid trip to cure my asthma, I'm stuck here, completely sober with no cool drugs, completely disease free, doing yet another edition of Today's Random Coast Notes with a brief Top Ten Favorite Local Writer's List update tacked on the end.

    So let's get started. Ian did a great job. Elyssa East was a great guest and so was H. Keith Melton and they all win whatever various awards they were up for. And so on. Etc, etc, etc. And the show gets 112 out of 10 stars. Blah, blah, blah, blah, good job, everyone.

    Aren't you glad that I go to the lengths I go to to hide it when I'm so angry and bitter over the way the medical establishment denied me my God given right to LSD when I was a new born that my heart really isn't in giving you a really good, well thought out, complete Today's Random Coast Notes with a brief Top Ten Favorite Local Writer's List update tacked on the end?

    You should be glad because not many writers would do that for you. And speaking of writers, let's talk, for a moment, about my #3 on my Top Ten Favorite Writer's List. I call him #3 but you might know him as Shane and it doesn't really matter what you call him just as long as you read him.

    Because for the 798th week in a row, he has clobbered Catie Osborn to maintain his spot because she has been threatening to take it away from him for a long time now. I don't know if he feels proud of himself for beating up a girl like that and privately, that sort of behavior appalls me but publicly, I'm neutral on it because it doesn't concern me because all those petty rivalries and office politics are their business, not mine.

    What does concern me is opening up my Sunday edition of The Rock Island Argus and finding a really good column and that's what I'm getting, so I'm happy. And I suppose that Catie knows that all she has to do is come out of retirement and publish something...anything, I would be happy with a grocery list at this point...to zoom up the list.

    And some people still have the nerve to call me shallow, selfish and self absorbed. I know I have every right to be but I'm not. Another thing I'm not is uncompassionate. That's why #2 (Or Bill, if you prefer) has nothing to worry about because I'm freezing his spot...until he gets rid of the cancer because I figure he has enough to deal with at the moment with the chemo and radiation treatments.

    And as for #1 (Sean), he's safe because I don't see anyone knocking him out of the number one spot but don't tell him that because it's better for all of us if he thinks he can be replaced.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Art Bell: Somewhere in Time---Saturday December 12, 2009
    10:39 am
    Hulia's Survey!
    This is so weird. This morning, Hulia published a list of questions and I decided to answer them after I woke up. Then, I went to McDonald's (It's one of my top ten favorite health food restaurants) and the girl behind the counter was named Hulia. A completely different Hulia, yes, I'm pretty sure they aren't even related to each other but still, this is yet another of those strange unlikely coincidences that convinces me that the Universe is trying to tell me something by constantly sending me coded messages.

    And this time, I decided to act on it because I knew that someone or something somewhere wanted me to do something but I didn't know what, so I took a shot in the dark. I said (To the Hulia that works at McDonald's, not our Hulia here on Myspace), "Hey, babe, I think we could make beautiful music together."

    And she said, "Drop dead, creep. I wouldn't try to make music with you even if you were the last musician on Earth. You want fries with that?"

    I don't know what she meant by that, just as I still don't know what the Universe is trying to tell me but I do know that the joke is on Hulia (The one at McDonald's, not the one at Myspace) because I'm not even a musician! I can't even read music! So she made a big fool out of herself.

    What isn't foolish though, is Hulia's survey. Go read the full post containing it here and then rush back to read my answers:

    here are my questions for you today:

    1. which character would you be on a reality show? the bitch? the pushover? the snake?

    None of the above. I want to be the only male on Girl Island. It's a brand new show I'm developing. It's sort of like Big Brother and Survivor but with some neat twists that you're really going to like.

    2. why do i watch these televised train wrecks happily? why is it so satisfying to hate people i've never met based on how they're edited?

    It's just your voyeuristic nature coming out and you should nurture it. I can help with that.

    3. why do i always expect all of you to answer questions about me?

    I call it The Goddess Syndrome. We will do anything you ask us to do and it would be wasteful of you to not exercise that power (And being wasteful would get Al Gore all over your back and you really don't want that) and do with it as you wish. And who are we to say that it could be used in far better ways than just making us answer a bunch of dumb questions?

    4. why am i still talking about myself? it's like i'm more interested in myself than your answers!

    Who else would you talk about? And who else would we want to listen to you talk about? We are hopelessly devoted to you...just as Olivia Newton-John is hopelessly devoted to me. She even wrote a song about it. Well, she she didn't write it so much as just sing it but it's the thought that counts.

    5. am i really more interested in myself? do i seem really self absorbed to you?

    You don't seem a bit self absorbed to me. And you are the most interesting person in the room...even though you are over dressed. I can help with that, too.

    6. are you praying i'll stop talking about myself long enough for you to get a few hundred words in about YOURself?

    There's nothing I can say about myself. I just your common ordinary average mundane garden variety conservative church going God fearing greeting cards salesman who lives in a tiny 700 room shack on his 5000 acre estate with his all girl staff of 749 and has an income only slightly bigger than his zip code (The new one with the four extra digits). My only hobbies are cooking and cleaning (I'm an award winning chef and the big downside is that Martha Stewart is always bugging me for advice) and massage therapy. And I have a completely ordinary, every day double-jointed nine inch long tongue.

    I do a lot of charity work. Reading to the blind, delivering meals to the elderly, helping out at the orphanage...etc, etc, etc. See? I'm totally dull. Let's talk about you.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Chuck Dunaway, KILT Houston TX., December 1966
    8:14 am
    My Latest Invention, The Sunday December 13 Edition, Volume One
    Just like Thomas Alva Edison, I come up with a steady never ending stream of really good ideas and turn most of them over to my underlings, make them do all the work and then take all the credit. I also, again, just like Tom, have critics who say I'm a lazy, good for nothing ego obsessed megalomaniac who exploits the working class for my own gain because they don't understand the creative process.

    I good-naturedly accept that know-nothing ignorant critics are just a part of the cost of greatness---that is, until I perfect the Critic Ray, which is a handy little device that works much like a Stun Gun, except instead of turning its' victims into useless puddles of quivering jelly, it transforms them into obedient slaves who do what they're told to do when they're told to do it and makes them speak only when spoken to.

    The first person I'm going to use the Critic Ray on is Suzette, my Chef De Cuisine and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss because I suspect it will also cure senility...or at the very least mask its' most insidious symptoms and therefore achieve the same effect.

    Some people say I shouldn't because she's a medical wonder because most people don't go senile at the age of 24 and she should be preserved as she is for further study. I dispute the medical wonder assertion because more then half of my staff is under 30 and a full 49% of them display at least some signs of senility.

    See? Critics get everything wrong all the time in every field. That's why they must be transformed. Not stopped, because stopping them implies elimination and that would be a waste and it might also cause the Nobel people to take away my Peace Prizes and that would lead to even more trouble with Amnesty International and the ACLU and we can't have that because I've already had it up to here with all those people.

    And their Queen seems to be Suzette. This morning, not two or maybe three hours ago now, she said to me, as I laying there in bed, trying to listen to the radio while working out the preliminary details of my latest, greatest idea for the best invention ever which had just come to me, "Honey, I said, 'Please get up and get me a cup of coffee,' I DIDN'T say, 'Dear, would you please molest me?"

    Then, not two seconds later, she said, "No! Don't stop that. That isn't molesting, that just feels good. I really wish you'd learn the difference. Ahhh...ummm...oui...oui...oui...ahhh...Forget the coffee and keep doing that until I tell you to stop."

    See what I'm up against? She doesn't even know the difference between what she really likes and what is just fill in motion to kill time between the really good parts and I would describe this problem in more detail but the Legion Of Decency is another group of people that I have already had far more than enough of.

    Talk about a complete waste of a perfectly good Sunday morning. Sundays get a lot of criticism for being bad but I maintain that Sundays aren't bad at all, it's just bad people that make them seem bad and this is just more proof. We'll explore that idea a bit more in My Latest Invention, The Sunday December 13 Edition, Volume Two because right now my Editor-In-Chief, Style Manual, is telling me I'm too long.

    Why does she always say that? Except when we're being intimate, which is when she should be saying it? Anyway, she's also saying that I'm rambling all over the place without coming to the point and a bunch of other untrue things and the only way to make her stop is to just wrap this up. So, stay tuned for My Latest Invention, The Sunday December 13 Edition, Volume Two and just be patient till it arrives.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Chuck Dunaway, KILT Houston TX., December 1966
    Saturday, December 12th, 2009
    1:46 am
    Today's Random Coast Notes
    JC has spoken. For the first time in 753 years, 49 days, 16 hours and 9 minutes...which is nearly as long as it's been since the last Red State Update but that's another topic for another day...JC remembered not only how to talk but also how to dial a phone and it was a grand combination.

    America is being coruptized by evil movies. Or something like that. If you were listening this morning, you know exactly what JC said...or you've forgotten by now, like I have but that's OK because you do remember how funny it was. You also know what he didn't say but said anyway. In a silent, code-like telepathic sort of way that couldn't fit Coast any better if it tried, he said: I am throwing 100% of my support in the Coast Host Of The Year race to George Noory.

    Unless he calls in tonight and/or tomorrow night...in which case, it will be hard to determine if he's really supporting Ian or is declaring neutrality or he's just screwing with us. If and when that happens, I'll leave it up to you master detectives out there who love a really good mystery to figure it out.

    What is isn't a mystery...and doesn't even need to be said at all but I am saying it anyway because, well, let's face it, some of you aren't the fastest cars in the race. And that's OK. We welcome diversity here...is that this show swept today's Coast Awards. Mr. Lobo was an awesome guest and gets Guest Of The Day, George gets Host Of The Day, etc etc etc.

    I don't have to say this either, but I am anyway, because JC has a huge ego and he likes hearing it and it might just get him to call one more time before I die: JC is already the Grand Supreme Coast Caller Emeritus as well as God's Ten Star General In The War on Bland/Obnoxious/Drunken Fratboy Coast Calls but he gets to add another Caller Of The Day award to his resume.

    Now comes the time to address Mike in Springfield on the Wild Card Line: The Acri Creature Feature DID NOT COME FROM ST. LOUIS!!!!!! IT CAME FROM THE QUAD CITIES!!!!!!! Behold:

    -------------------------------

    "Hi, Chuck Acri here!", was the weekly greeting from the the amiable host of the Acri Creature Feature. Chuck Acri was, and still is, a business man and a bit of a showman.

    When the syndicated package of horror movies known as Creature Features came to the market, WQAD newcomers Bill Flannery and Don Raymond produced the local show, beginning with a few specials in 1969. Chuck Acri, who had previously been buying ten second spots of air-time asked to become the sponsor to promote his home improvement business, The Acri Company. Vincent and Emmit became local stars.

    http://www.houseofjitters.com/acri.htm

    -------------------------------

    It was on channel 8 and a full 52% of everything you needed to know about TV if you lived in the Quad Cities, or Muscatine, as I did, from the late 60's to 1977 was that Captain Ernie (Which ended in 1974 but it started sooner, its' roots go back to the 1950s) was on channel 6 after school and Creature Feature was on channel 8 late on Saturday night.

    I'm glad we finally have that cleared up. Now we can talk about what Nick...or maybe it was Mick, I'm not sure...in Rochester, New York had to say, which was, "This is the best show ever." The jury is still out on "Best show ever," but one thing is for sure: This was the best Coast today...or yesterday, whenever it aired.

    The official score is 104 stars out of ten...it was only going to be 102 stars, because it lost a few for an unforgettable and unforgivable error that someone made that I can't remember now but trust me, it was there, but then George started talking about an old movie called It Happens Every Spring that I really like and that bought back two stars.

    And now the only thing left is to ask, "How is Ian going to top this?" I hope he doesn't feel like he's under any sort of pressure or anything because all I'm expecting tonight is perfection.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---George Noory, WOC AM 1420
    Friday, December 11th, 2009
    2:45 am
    It's Friday, You Bastards
    The Pearl Harbor anniversary was this week. It took me by surprise because it was on December 7 this year. No matter, though, because we moved it to tonight so it can be the theme for tonight's party. Bright and early Monday afternoon, Miss Bunni, my Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Mystical Affairs and Head Astrologer, parted the veil between the living and the dead and invited tonight's Guest Of Honor, Fleet Admiral Chester William Nimitz.

    You might not remember Chet but you should, because he's a pretty big deal. Not only was he a five star admiral along with a bunch of other jobs, including Commander in Chief, Pacific Ocean Areas (CinCPOA), for U.S. and Allied air, land, and sea forces during World War II but Hawaii also named a parking lot after him.

    It's called the Nimitz Highway and it's the fastest way to get nowhere on Oahu. California named a parking lot after him, too, it's called the Nimitz Freeway and it's the fastest way to not get from Oakland to San Jose. Besides all that, Chet is something of a wit as well.

    When Miss Bunni called him Monday afternoon (I told her to do it in the morning but she's just not a morning person), he said, "I wish the Japanese were as punctual as you are. We probably could have saved a few battleships." I'm just glad that Groucho won't be here tonight, because that would be just too much sharp edged wit for one room to hold.

    So, Pearl Harbor is the theme tonight and by default, that means that the theme is also Hawaii. And by all rights, that means that we should be in Honolulu right now. But we're not, thanks to the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy That's Out To Get Me. Don't worry about them too much because I'm pretty sure they aren't out to get you, too.

    They were aiming at me and tonight, at least, you're just collateral damage. We're making the best of it, though. Most of my staff are wearing grass skirts (I think that's my favorite feature of the islands) and Mary Ann, my Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Tropical Island Affairs, teamed up with Brie, my Pastry Chef, to make tons of coconut and banana cream pies.

    Don Ho is here, too, to provide the musical entertainment and I know you're thinking right now, "Hey, wait a minute. This is just a repeat of your annual Hawaiian Statehood Party (Which is usually on or around August 21) with a slight war spin." And you're right but it isn't my fault.

    My original plan called for a full scale miniature reenactment of the Battle Of Pearl Harbor. It was simplicity itself. It only involved filling the swimming pool with heated water (To avoid freezing issues), placing radio controlled replicas of the Japanese fleet in it, opening the patio doors so the little RC planes could attack the full scale miniature recreation of Pearl Harbor in the living room which would have been manned by little radio controlled models of the American forces.

    That perfect plan was rejected by Suzette, my Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss and Chef De Cuisine. She is also The Vast Right Wing Conspiracy That's Out To Get Me's Ten Star General In Charge Of Ruining My Life. She said, "Non! The pool is drained for a reason! It's December! For the same reason, you're not opening the patio doors. You are also not going to fill the room with toy planes and most of all, you are not flooding the living room! And don't even think about setting anything on fire or blowing anything up."

    I explained to her that I was going to use hot water in the pool and I was hardly going to flood the living room...I only needed to flood enough of it to make a realistic harbor and it wouldn't be more than 3 or 4 feet deep but you know how senile people are. It's like talking to a brick wall. Except brick walls are more reasonable.

    Lefty, my friend and co-worker...he's the Conventional Explosives Expert down at Acme Greeting Cards and he's also the world's leading authority on how fireworks and heavy drinking DO mix...was crushed. He was up all night making the tiny miniature bombs, torpedoes, anti-aircraft shells and small arms ammunition to give the battle that final much needed touch of realism. He also figured out how to blow up the model oil and gas storage tanks without burning down too much of the house.

    And now all that work is wasted. And speaking of being wasted...well, as usual, alcohol is the answer to all our problems. Thank God, we have Fifi, my Sommelier. Don't thank Him too much, though. Because while she is making plenty of Mai Tai's, they aren't the official theme drink tonight. These are:

    ----------------------

    White Christmas

    This sweet cocktail can be used as a dessert, too. Though similar to regular eggnog, the white chocolate liqueur makes this drink even more decadent. Serve with cookies or a simple dark chocolate pound cake for a rich ending to the evening.

    Directions:

    4 ounces eggnog (homemade or commercially prepared)
    1/2 ounces white chocolate liqueur
    1 ounce Southern Comfort

    Mix all the ingredients and serve straight up!
    Servings: 1 Cocktail.

    ----------------------

    The reasoning behind that is that it's the Christmas season. Or something like that. So, it's not going to be a perfect evening filled with tiny explosions and little boats sinking and little planes being shot down but look at the bright side. There are plenty of girls in grass skirts and we're all getting leied tonight.

    Oh, you want the recipe for the drink that Fifi invented that should be the theme drink tonight? No problem, here it is:

    ----------------------

    Mai Tai

    1 oz light rum
    1/2 oz creme de almond
    1/2 oz triple sec
    sweet and sour mix
    pineapple juice
    1/2 oz Myer's® dark rum

    Pour light rum, creme de almond and triple sec, in order, into a collins glass. Almost fill with equal parts of sweet and sour mix and pineapple juice. Add dark rum, a large straw, and serve unstirred.

    ----------------------

    Now, drink up, go put on your "I Got Bombed At Pearl Harbor" t-shirt (I had one made in just your size) and cheer up Lefty by telling him how much you would have loved his explosions. Then pray that next year, sanity reigns and I'm allowed to do what I want to do.

    Bookem Dano!

    Aloha.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM--George Noory, WOC AM1420
    Thursday, December 10th, 2009
    4:27 pm
    Balancing Act
    I do not now, nor have I ever believed in the existence of a God of any kind and it's highly unlikely I ever will but I do believe in something that some people might call a God. What this thing is, I have no idea beyond that it isn't George Burns. Well, on second thought, it might turn out to be him, because he did enjoy screwing around with people but if even if it is him, he still isn't God (Because God doesn't exist). He only played Him in a couple of movies.

    Another thing I know for sure about this thing that some might call God is that it seems to mostly be concerned with balance. From the microscopic to the macroscopic events that make up my life, there is obviously a force at work that balances everything out and right now I have a really good example to illustrate the phenomenon, so that's what I'm going to do.

    Let's start by looking at a giant step forward for mankind...womankind? Peoplekind? Well, just pick your favorite gender and go with it...:

    --------------------------------

    Lab-Grown Meat a Reality, But Who Will Eat It?

    by Ketzel Levine

    May 20, 2008

    Countless families are familiar with the domestic challenge of vegetarians and meat eaters living under one roof. Vegetarians often find the mere presence of meat repugnant; meat eaters prefer their wings and ribs seasoned without guilt. But these days, as "mixed" households explore their dietary options, a handful of scientists are cooking up what might be a possible alternative: meat grown in a lab.

    http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90235492

    --------------------------------

    That's from last year but I have been following the story for many years now and there was a recent breakthrough that everyone's talking about now that I can't seem to find but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that we are a big step closer to meat that is better for us, the environment and animals because we will no longer kill them. And it will be cheaper. Livestock production is the most inefficient way to convert grain into protein known to man. Women? People? Again, just pick one. Or all of them.

    The point is that everyone will finally be a vegetarian. While eating meat. And prime rib will be 49 cents a pound. It is the ultimate Win-Win-Win situation. What could be better than that? At least as far as food goes and since food makes up such a huge part of our lives, it's really big.

    It's like opening a door to a whole new world and who knows what other wonderful things are behind that door? Not so fast, though, because check this out, another recent headline:

    --------------------------------

    Uganda Debates Imposing Death Penalty for Being Gay
    Submitted by Leader Staff on December 9, 2009 - 3:16pm

    Proposed legislation in the country of Uganda would impose the death penalty for some gay Ugandans. In addition, their family and friends could face up to seven years in jail if they fail to report them to authorities, and landlords could be imprisoned for renting to homosexuals.

    http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90235492

    --------------------------------

    See what I mean? We take a giant step forward and then wipe it out by taking a giant step backwards. It happens all the time, in all kinds of ways at every level. I could give you thousands of examples from my life that would take you years to read but the ones you would find interesting need to remain private (Because I'm a Saint and I'm not willing to give up that paycheck so you can have something interesting to read) and the others would mean nothing to you.

    That's why these two stories are perfect. For seeing what is going on. As for explaining it, not so much. Some people say it's just the law of averages but no. This is too complex, intricate, involved, organized and oftentimes specific to be random chance.

    And it doesn't stop with balancing, though that seems to be the biggest part of it. But there are other things. Like the messages...Jung called them synchronicity...that are always bombarding me. No one ever tells me what they mean but they are always there.

    And the only thing I'm sure of is that it isn't God (If there were a God, would we be killing animals for food and debating whether or not to make homosexuality a capital crime? I know it's "just" Uganda that's formalizing it but it happens everywhere). Quantum Mechanics and Metaphysics provide the most likely sounding answers but it's still all guesswork at this point.

    Oh, I do know one more thing! It looks like George Bush is now President Of Uganda. Good for him! Retired people need to stay busy like that.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Wednesday December 9, 2009
    Wednesday, December 9th, 2009
    4:57 pm
    Today's Random Coast Notes
    Have I ever told you how much I like shoveling snow? It ranks right up there with getting a root canal and clothes shopping on my Top Ten Favorite Things List. Of course, winter is also on the list and some people say that's redundant but they are all anal retentive editors, critics and agents (They also happen to be on the List, oddly enough) who nitpick every little mound that really aren't mounds at all until they grow into mountains inside their tiny unstable little disturbed minds and the whole process is motivated by jealousy because they lack the writing skills needed to write a grocery list.

    Another item on my Top Ten Favorite Things List is December 8...and it falls in winter, coincidentally. And that's where I am right now...as are you, if you're also in your Streamlink Time Machine...and I know that it would seem, at first glance, reasonable and proper for me to trash today's show.

    But I can't. For one simple reason and that reason is this: If we have to continue having December 8's, the best way to cushion the crushing blow is to spend them is with R. Gary Patterson and that's why this show swept today's Coast Awards. And Alex Jones gets Best Supporting Guest.

    Maybe a little later, definitely not tonight but sometime in the future, I'll talk about and comment on what Gary and Joseph Niezgoda had to say. Right now, though, I'm just cold and frazzled from this super sized order of winter and everything that comes with it so I'm only going to say one thing.

    And that one thing is this: If you've been avoiding Coast because you think it's all ET's and ghosts, check out a show like this. There really is something there for everyone. George does a lot of great celebrity interviews and Ian is the master of the historical perspective shows. And there's lots of crossover. George and Ian aren't locked into any formulas, formats or patterns and they both quite often pull out surprises that no one could have seen coming.

    And let us not forget George Knapp. He's big on UFO's and government cover-ups but he's not locked into anything, either...plus he does the best intro. And I have a good feeling about him being able to get Tom Robbins on. Anyway, check out the upcoming shows section of the Coast web site and listen to the ones that interest you. You might might get hooked and end up listening every night but there are worse addictions, so I wouldn't sweat it. If nothing else, you'll find it easier to get through December 8.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Tuesday December 8, 2009
    Tuesday, December 8th, 2009
    4:34 pm
    Today's Random Coast Notes
    There's 1,984 feet of snow on the ground right now, the temperature is 3000 degrees below Absolute Zero and at the moment we have freezing rain. That won't last forever, though. It's supposed to get bad tonight. The forecast calls for 949 feet of snow every hour for the next 23 million hours, End Of Days speed winds and falling temps.

    And it's all because the guys in the Weather Lab thought it would be funny to bury my driveway under the deepest, coldest and most vile Wintry Mix you have ever seen. And I'd like to see Dr. Michael Shermer try to debunk that! He won't touch this one with a ten foot pole, though, because Mr. "Oswald Acted Alone" doesn't want to spoil his record by having to admit that we are surrounded by conspiracies and every single one of them is aimed at me.

    It wouldn't even surprise me if Mr. "It Doesn't Exist" is part of it. He sounds like a typical disinformation specialist to me. He sounds so cool, calm and level headed---so much so that it has to be an act. And from that, we can conclude that ghosts, Bigfoot, the Afterlife, Reincarnation and everything else he claims to disbelieve all exist.

    The only thing that really matters, though, is the conspiracies. And they don't even matter, except for the one that's burying me in snow, ruining my night and doing even worse things to my morning! That one needs to be squashed like a bug right now!

    I'm appointing you to do that. By morning, I want it 80 degrees and throw in a nice thunder storm, too. And then keep it that way forever. You think you can handle that? I'm giving you all night, which is ten times longer than it should take, so it should be no problem.

    Now we can get back this edition of Today's Random Coast Notes and wrap it up. Well, not wrap it up so much as insert a few more random disjointed thoughts and just calling it an ending because I'm still too upset over this weather disaster that YOU STILL HAVEN'T FIXED YET to do any real thought provoking writing.

    To prove that I am suffering from sort of weather conspiracy induced dementia...which is all your fault, by the way and don't try to use that tired, lame, "You're just paranoid," line because I am so sick and tired of all you people who are out to get me saying that all the time...I am giving Mike Coast Guest Of The Day.

    Because he said that he was open to the possibility that he is wrong about a ton of the things that he's conveniently ignoring mounds of evidence for. And because what he said about God makes a lot of sense. And that does it for today. Tomorrow, when I'm in a better mood because it's 80 degrees...unless you totally screw up and let me down by failing to accomplish your mission...maybe I'll talk some more about skepticism.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Monday December 7, 2009
    Monday, December 7th, 2009
    5:47 pm
    Hey! Hey! Have A Drink!
    The biggest advantage to having a really bad episode is that unless you purposely blow it big time the following week, your next installment just has to look good. No matter what. And that's exactly what happened last night (Season 3 Episode 11: Comings & Goings). Not that it was a bad episode, because it wasn't. But...Not Jill's butt, regrettably, and maybe we'll talk some more about that a little later...it wasn't the best episode ever and still it looked great and I have no qualms at all about recommending it to first time viewers.

    The biggest, most pleasant, surprise of the evening was PETER GALLAGHER, who plays Dean Koons (I am still sure they based him on my former pseudo boss, Putz "Shorty" McWorthless---they just gave him a measurable IQ and made him taller, literate, able to communicate in English and straight). The duel was kind of hokey but Peter's performance saved it. It was a JC moment, and by that, I mean, for you people who aren't regular listeners to Coast To Coast AM, that he played his part perfectly and never stepped out of character, no matter how absurd the scene got.

    Now we know why he got that part: He's one heck of a good actor. Another nice surprise last night was Charlie and Marcie...the writers haven't got them exactly right yet but they were far less wrong last night than they were last week. See? You can have believable dialogue AND a sexual encounter in the bathroom that results in a back injury and a broken sink.

    They go together like chocolate and peanut butter. Speaking of chocolate and peanut butter, that would have been a nice flavorful addition to the four-way lesbian scene between Karen, Jill, Felicia and Jackie. But that scene didn't happen. Again. I'm not complaining too much about that, though, because I'm still busy being grateful that Hank didn't kiss another guy.

    Not that there's anything wrong with that...it's just not the Sweeps Surprise I was hoping for. Another thing I'm grateful for is that Becca wasn't stranded in a runaway balloon and Karen didn't pummel Hank with a golf club because the writers like to mirror current events like that and it's great when they do it right but it's painful when they get it wrong and since they don't have me directing or at least approving those scenes, it's just a lot better all the way around when they refrain from using the news for script ideas.

    I think that covers everything...except for Jill's butt, which remained covered last night. Why do they do that to me?

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Sunday December 6, 2009
    Sunday, December 6th, 2009
    1:43 pm
    The Next One I'm Not Going To Write
    The single biggest drawback to being a greeting cards salesman is the boredom. Or maybe it's the low pay. Or the hours. Or having to put up with obnoxious overbearing bosses like the Chief, Miss Big and Minx. Minx is my secretary and technically, I'm her boss, but that doesn't stop her from pushing me around all the time just like the Chief and Miss Big.

    Another possibility is that it's the overall pointlessness...I mean, why keep saving the world from certain doom only to, at the end of the day, look back on it and realize that you should have just taken the day off because it really wasn't worth saving in the first place?

    Or maybe it's the endless secrecy oaths...no. Wait. This intro isn't going to work at all if boredom isn't the single biggest drawback to being a greeting cards salesman, so that's what we're going with. Boredom. And the one little tiny upside which is that a big part of all that boredom is continual exposure to technologies developed by foreigners.

    Foreigners from far far far away. And that's why I have to point out here that this latest novel has nothing to do with any of that boring foreign technology. It's just another work contains nothing but 100% fiction. By someone who has no imagination: Me.

    Now that we have the tight concise intro that will lead no one to ask any embarrassing questions out of the way, let's get to the plot of this new novel which is all about magnifying glass. It's a lot like the ordinary magnifying glass you're familiar with except it's a little stronger and it doesn't come from the drug store.

    A sheet of it the size of an ordinary window can, in one hour, convert ordinary sunlight into enough energy to boil enough water to run ten average size power generating plants for a full day and it comes from a place that you won't find on Google Earth. You won't even find it on Google Universe, even if you ever do get access to Google Universe.

    Gayla Jansen is the research scientist...and as her name would suggest to you if you're big on names and their meanings, a world class partier...who is given the secret to the super strong magnifying glass. She is, as most of us would be, thrilled with the prospect of endless clean and basically free energy. Even at night. When the sun isn't shining, the same glass can convert artificial light produced by ordinary batteries and light bulbs into massive amounts of power.

    She is frustrated at having to boil water to produce power but being a human being, that's what she is stuck with. We know how to turn steam into useful things and we will go as far as our technology will take us, which is currently the ability to split the atom, to heat water.

    Still, this new super magnifying glass is clean, radiation free and extremely low cost, so Gayla just lives with the frustration of not being able to use it more efficiently. Until Aislin Brielle shows up. Aislin works for a secret government organization that has a reputation to the few who know about it as being dangerous, nosy and disruptive and she opens up a can of brand new frustrating worms that threaten to swarm over, suffocate and consume Gayla.

    Among her greedy self serving elitist reasons to bury the technology, she does have one good point: The super magnifying glass is an instant super powerful weapon that anyone can use anywhere. Picture kids frying ants and setting paper on fire with magnifying glasses.

    Now imagine the same size magnifying glass being able to incinerate an entire city block in less than half the time it took the kids to fry a single ant. Then imagine what a government would do with that kind of power. Gayla imagined these things, and knowing how impossible it would be to keep this Genie in a safe bottle, became torn.

    Should she turn over what she knew about the glass and the specimens she had to Aislin and remain forever silent on the subject and deny the entire world free clean power but protect them from the downside while fully knowing that her own government would use it as a weapon, so she would only be protecting the US...and even that proposition was shaky.

    Though she hadn't been born yet when it occurred, she knew about Kent State and an endless stream of similar incidents that had happened before and since. Her other choice, destroying the specimens and taking their secrets to her grave appealed to her except for the timing.

    Aislin had not been the least bit vague or coy about how she would personally torture Gayla into telling her everything or make Gayla die trying. She even seemed to welcome the challenge. Though hardly an expert on such things, Gayla felt that 28 was too young an age to be tortured to death.

    So what did she end up doing? I don't know yet because I'm only half done not writing it. It should be done by morning, so come back then.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Saturday December 5, 2009
    Saturday, December 5th, 2009
    2:20 am
    Today's Random Coast Notes
    Every time anyone says that life is about learning lessons so you can move onto something bigger and better, I listen. I really do. With an open unbiased mind. I am completely ready and fully prepared to be converted to that school of thought. It hasn't happened yet, though, and the problem is that every single one of them say something to this effect, "We are here to learn things so we can evolve into a higher realm," but they always (So far, anyway) say that it's a spiritual realm.

    My problem with that is this: What can you learn in a physical world that would be of any use in a nonphysical world? It makes no sense to me. And the host...there's nearly always a host involved because these conversations usually happen on the radio, almost always on Coast To Coast AM and is that a freaky coincidence or what?...never ever says, "Hey! Wait a second, how could anything we learn here be any good anywhere else? Unless we continue to reincarnate as physical beings but even then, it would only do us any good if we remembered what happened in our former lives and I don't know about you but I can't remember what I had for lunch today. So help me out here and explain a little more about that."

    And so it went this morning with Randy Rogers, who oddly enough, was the guest on Coast. And you might think that that automatically makes him Worst Coast Guest Of The Day but it doesn't because there's a problem. And that problem is that Randy told this great story about how a sister of his from a former life contacted him in this life from beyond the grave (She had been a friend of his in this life and if you want the whole story, go listen on StreamLink).

    You might think that that's far fetched but you have to remember that Quantum Physicists have proven..."Proven" is a dangerous word, especially when applied to science but I have a feeling that the scientists got this one right so I'm going with it right up until someone "proves" that it isn't so...that there is no past or future, there is only now and the rest is just how we perceive it and his description of his past life regression fit that perfectly.

    Then there's the dreams I've been having since I was about five about a girl who claims to be my sister---I never had a sister, unless you believe that life begins at conception because my mom had a miscarriage when I was two and if you want the details of all that, I wrote a whole post about it a while back but you'll have to find it yourself because I don't have time to dig it up right now---and that adds a personal element of interest to it for me.

    So what was I supposed to do? Should I have made Randy Worst Coast Guest Of The Day? Or Best Coast Guest Of The Day (A lot of the things he said, in addition to the past life story, seemed very plausible and does all that undo his loony "life is about learning" theory?)? Both? Are you starting to see why I'm so stressed out all the time? All of these huge problems always fall on my shoulders.

    Luckily, I do have a staff...a skeleton staff, really, because it's only 753 girls...to help out a little with some of these unsolvable riddles. So I went up to Addy Hominem's room and asked her what I should do because Addy is my Chief Election Judge In Charge Of Coast To Coast AM Elections.

    "Didn't I tell you not to bother me today?" She said, very helpfully.

    "Yes," I answered, because it was true. She called in sick today because she's claiming she's having the worst cramps of her life and she did ask me not to bother her. "But this is a 200 million alarm emergency," I said and then started to outline the dilemma for her.

    I hadn't gotten very far when she cut me off with, "Then why are you here?"

    "If you'd let me finish, I'd get to that," I said.

    That's when she said, "SHUT UP!!!!" Then she banged her gravel on the nightstand and shouted, "I FIND YOU GUILTY!!! GUILTY!!!! GUILTY!!!!!! GUILTY!!!!" Then she pointed her .357 Magnum at my chest and pulled the trigger.

    That wasn't really a big deal because of Suzette's (She's my Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss and Chef De Cuisine and she's only 24 and already senile but I keep her around because she looks great in a French Maid's Uniform) "No loaded guns in the house," rule and her other rule about no blood stains on the carpet (Actually, she has millions of stupid rules but those are the only two that apply in this case), except if you factor in the noise level because blanks are really loud. And I have a headache now.

    That's when I left her room because I understand women and can read the subtle signs they broadcast and after Addy fired her gun at me that's when I knew that she probably wasn't going to be much help. It may seem like magic to you, like I was reading her mind or something but in reality it's just the end product of vast experience and really good detective skills.

    And that's why I'm stuck. I don't know how to rate this show or who to give what award. If you would like to help, and you're a girl...I would hire men but I can't because women have been so discriminated against in the workplace for so long and I feel the need to make it up to them...come down and fill out an application to be my Chief Election Judge In Charge Of Coast To Coast AM Elections' Understudy.

    Wear a short judicial robe and black lingerie...or no lingerie at all. If you don't have a short judicial robe, a black dress will do. Or jeans. Or, if dressing is too much trouble, just come naked. And even if you're not right for the Chief Election Judge In Charge Of Coast To Coast AM Elections' Understudy job, I'll find a position for you.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---George Noory, WOC AM 1420
    Friday, December 4th, 2009
    4:29 pm
    It's Friday, You Bastards
    If you still looking for a reason to mistrust and be fearful of every government on Earth...well, if you haven't found a reason to do that yet, you're blind and willfully ignorant but we'll disregard that...call the toll free number for the British X-Files. The British Government recently ended the program which investigates UFO reports because they feel they can better use the money elsewhere but they do have a message to listen to at the number.

    Fair enough. It's no longer a secret (But it is still an official secret) that aliens are here and it's dumb to spend money on investigating them when we (Well, our governments) already know as much as they're going to tell us but the UK Government didn't stop there.

    No, if you call the number (Which I can't find now for some reason but I'm sure that's just a coincidence), you'll get a reassuring message that the Ministry of Defense is on top of everything and if there is any threat out there, it'll be spotted on radar and dealt with with fighter planes.

    Apparently, no one has told Great Britain about stealth aircraft and the stuff the aliens have that make our most sophisticated weapons look like toys. Or, they are fully aware of all that and just think that everyone in the country is just stupid enough to buy the, "Just relax, you're perfectly safe," BS.

    Can we say, "Duck and cover?" Oh well, when you look at it that way, it's not so bad. It's nostalgia. A return to the good old days, when everyone had a job and everything was affordable. OK, those days never existed and we were just as much at risk from hostile aliens then as we are now but what does it matter?

    It's Friday night and that means we have a party to get started and I say we do that right now. And what better way to start a party is there than with a few dozen of these, the drink that Fifi, my Sommelier created for tonight:

    ---------------------------------------------

    The End Of England

    Ingredients:

    * 1/2 oz Bacardi 151 proof rum
    * 1/2 oz Wild Turkey 101 proof
    * 1/2 oz Vodka

    Mixing instructions:

    Serve warm. Straight into the shot glass.

    ---------------------------------------------

    Whew. After a couple of those, you won't, even if you are in England, mind the cold damp weather. And you might even see Spring Heeled Jack. Or maybe Jack The Ripper. Possibly a leprechaun. Or Nessie. You could even see a flying saucer. Just remember that that's just God's way of saying, "You need another drink. (Or, if you're a Fundamentalist, He'll say, "I command thee, drink!")." Oh, they're all real and if if they want to do you harm, you're toast because there's nothing you can do about it and you can't even count on the Ministry of Defense to pretend to care anymore. That's why He gave you booze.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Thursday December 3, 2009
    Thursday, December 3rd, 2009
    4:34 pm
    I Need A New Secretary...And A New Boss Wouldn't Hurt, Either, Volume One
    I had a really close call at work this morning. The minute I got there, the Chief called and said he wanted to see me. So I went down to his office and started to explain that I was late because of the burning building full of widows and orphans that needed to be rescued and what was I supposed to do? Just drive on by and let them all die?

    "I don't care that you were ten minutes late today, you idiot," He said. "I don't care that you're late every single day. I am a little concerned over your inability to come up with a new excuse, though. And your inability to realize that if an orphanage were really on fire, it would probably make the news...especially if it burned down every workday for over 15 years! But, we don't have time for that, so just forget it."

    "Then what's up?" I asked. I had a bad feeling because he usually doesn't annoy me with whatever stupid thing he thinks needs doing till after ten and it was barely past nine and early morning assignments are almost never good.

    "We have a Code Blue on Cape Verde and you have to get there right away and get it straightened out."

    "I knew it!" I said, because I figured he meant the Cape Verde on Mars. And that's bad news because, aside from a few bars, a Wal-Mart, a Starbucks, several dozen military installations and Richard C. Hoagland's estate, there's nothing there....that's why a lot of people mistake it for Australia. They are are building a casino resort but it won't be open until 2012 and even then there still won't be even one nude beach on that whole boring planet.

    "What's the big important emergency? Does RCH need his lawn mowed again? Or did the rover get another flat tire? If it's the former, tell Richard I'm not his servant and if he wants me to mow his lawn, he could at least invite me to his stupid boring parties and if it's the latter, why do you bother keeping over 500 agents permanently stationed there if you're just going to send me every time something needs done there? For that matter, they can mow Richard's lawn from now on, too, because they get invited to the parties and I'm not doing it anymore!"

    "Will you just relax, please?" The Chief said. "I'm sending you to the one here."

    "The islands off the coast of West Africa?" I asked.

    "No, you moron! The OTHER Cape Verde on Earth!" Then he paused long enough to light a cigarette. He's just like Suzette in that regard---he's quit smoking, except when he's around me. Then he guzzled some of his ulcer medication, which he doesn't even really need anymore because his ulcer is cured. Except when he's around me.

    Then he started giving me all the boring pointless mission details while I counted my lucky stars. Cape Verde, Earth, is by far not the most exciting place in the solar system but it's a million times better than the one on Mars. And the ace up its' sleeve is that RCH doesn't have a huge estate there.

    When he finally finished, I went back to my office to pick up the keys to my jet car and that's when I had my second close call of the day. And this one I had no luck with in avoiding and her name is Minx. My superbly built but ungodly boring secretary.

    "Where are you going?" She asked.

    "Cape Verde."

    "Mars?" She asked, frowning. "No thanks. Unless Richard is throwing a party, in which case it'll be OK but otherwise, you can go alone. And Richard wisely never invites you to any of his parties, so, bye. Have a good trip"

    "Not Mars," I said and then paused for a second to curse the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, my next door neighbor who hangs out here all the time and repeats the Ten Commandments so often that I now have a stupid religious hang-up about lying even though I'm an atheist, and that doesn't make a lick of sense until you remember that Satan works through Art and he's out to get me just like everyone else, "The one here."

    "Cool," She said. "It's so cold and icky here today that I really need some tropical sun. I'm going with you."

    I would have been better off on Mars. I spent the whole day searching for the pozzolana smuggling ring (You might be under the impression that it's only good for making cement and really, it's a whole lot safer for both of us if you keep believing it, so keep keep that belief) who the Chief said were in Praia but I found them on a beach in Boa Vista.

    Well, I didn't find the pozzolana smugglers exactly but I did find a very nice all girl windsurfing team from Brazil and that was just as good. Well, it would have been good if Minx hadn't been there to ruin everything. I'll give you all the horrendous details of how she did that in I Need A New Secretary...And A New Boss Wouldn't Hurt, Either, Volume Two because I've already had enough misery and heartache for one day.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Wednesday December 2, 2009
    Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009
    4:31 pm
    Why Can't I Ever Have A Transgression?
    I feel really left out again. Everyone in the entire world has made transgressions that they really regret and are really sorry for but me. It used to be me, Tiger Woods and David Letterman but now it's just me. We used to meet every Thursday night at Scores just to talk about how perfect we are but I guess that's over now, too.

    It hasn't been the same anyway since Dave dropped out...he claims that Scores violates the terms of his probation. And I assume that the same thing is about to happen to Tiger. That's going to leave just me and Howard Stern...Howard was never a regular full fledged member of the club (He was kind of the Joey Bishop of the group), mostly because his entire life is a transgression but that never stopped him from coming to Scores once in a while to talk about how perfect he is and I assume that will continue forever.

    I suppose I'll keep going too, because Howard always brings tons of porn stars with him and those girls remind me how much I love the cinema and I need that to stay grounded. When you spend as much time as I do in Hollywood, it's easy to get jaded and disgusted with the whole movie making machine.

    I'm really going to miss Tiger, though. Even though he killed the best, most original movie idea I've ever had. The premise was this, the four of us----Dave, Tiger, Howard and me---were going to be war veterans (Probably Iraqi War veterans, since it's a fairly recent one) and we all get together and decide to rob every casino on the Las Vegas Strip on New Year's Eve.

    Everyone loved the idea until we started getting into the details and that's when Tiger said, "I'm not driving a garbage truck." And that just started the complaint ball rolling. Next, Howard said that he didn't want to spend a whole month filming in Vegas...I solved that problem by switching the setting to Atlantic City and having us rob every casino on the Boardwalk but by then it was too late.

    I was already formulating a major rewrite for Tiger's character and desperately trying to make everything work with an ocean instead of a desert and I really thought I could do it but that's when Dave said, "I'm not having a fatal heart attack in the middle of the heist. I have enough cardiac problems, I'm not going to give fate any new ideas."

    That was the straw that broke the camel's back. At that point, the greatest screenwriter who ever lived---me---couldn't save the project and it was all because Tiger Woods had to start an avalanche of unreasonable prima donna...actually, that should be prima uomo but since no one else makes that distinction, I won't either...demands.

    This was going to be the greatest movie ever made. I had already cleared a spot on the mantle for my new Oscars (Best Director, Best Writer, Best Actor and Best Picture) and I was even going to go the ceremony this time for the first time in over thirty years.

    But no, none of that is going to happen. And I'm having serious doubts now about my second best, most original movie idea ever, Robin And The Three Hoods. How am I supposed to make the greatest movie ever made when half my cast is under house arrest? Tiger and Dave have both publicly apologized for ruining my life like that but it doesn't help.

    You know what? I just give up. I'm never going to write another screenplay ever again. I'm not even going to star in or direct another movie. Right after we wrap my current production, Plan Ten From Outer Space...which is fun but it's only going to get me two lousy Oscars...I am never again going to be involved in any way, shape or form with the motion picture industry. I might even stop watching movies. And it's all Tiger Wood's fault.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Tuesday December 1, 2009
    Tuesday, December 1st, 2009
    4:45 pm
    Just Another Ordinary Day
    If today was a movie, it would get one and a half stars. It might have gotten two if I hadn't had to go to the gas station and spend $70 million on gas and $90 million on cigarettes and the worst part, looking at that sign that says that if you don't look at least 50, you will be carded.

    I wasn't carded and as usual, I'm not even going to speculate on what that might mean. I'm just going to totally forget about it and everything else that the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy That's Out To Get Me is doing to ruin my life and just answer your question, which is: How could you spend all day at the World's Most Boring Job (If there's anyone new here, I sell greeting cards) and then be infuriated and robbed at the gas station and then come home home to the most boring and insane staff the world has ever known and still give this horribly lousy dull day one and a half stars when it clearly deserves zero?

    The answer is: I'm just a hopelessly optimistic and naturally happy person. I guess. I mean, I can't think of any other way to account for it. Or maybe my standards have slipped so low that this is now a one and a half star day. Anyway, it wasn't work, that's for sure. It was as tedious and mundane as ever. I had to go to the North Pole and see Santa because he's getting old.

    His advanced age wouldn't be a problem but with the Arctic ice sheet melting away to nothing, shipping is increasing and thus far we've had more than 17 complaints from German, Norwegian and Russian shipping companies about old an old man in a red suit shouting, "Get out of my yard, you damn kids!" at them from ice.

    Of course, I had to stop in Moscow first and see the Commissar Of Foreign Weapons Sales and explain, "Ivan, be reasonable. If you sell him guns big enough to sink your ships, you can't complain if he sinks your ships. And look at the position that would put us in. We couldn't let you bomb him into the stone age after you enabled him. You can't have it both ways."

    Hoo boy. I learned a lot of new dirty words in Russian. Then we had some vodka and finally, the Russians saw things our way. And they stayed in Moscow. Thank God. Because I had enough trouble with the Canadians when I finally got to Santa's place.

    They think they own the North Pole, and they aren't happy with Santa and the Russians thinking they own it. So they have to butt in on everything up there. Today, they somehow got wind of my little conference with Santa and sent their Directors Of Northern Ports, Bob and Doug McKenzie.

    To say it was an orgy of of beer drinking and doughnut eating would be an under statement but I finally managed to make Santa see things our way and promise to leave all the nice boats alone. I even got something out of it for myself. Have you been in Santa's office lately? It's just like the Ginza, only with more cool state of the art electronics and most of the Japanese girls speak pretty good English.

    I picked up a cell phone that makes the latest iPhone look like a 1928 Northern Electric 102/202 and said, "Santa, you're in such a generous mood that I know you want to give me an early Christmas present."

    The jolly old fat man shook his head and said, "No way. You're #7 on the naughty list. I'd offer you a lump of coal but you don't even qualify for that."

    "That's a shame," I said. "A real shame. But, you know what would be a bigger shame? If the Santa XXX File were to be accidentally sent to Mrs. Claus. All those pictures, videos and receipts that show you spreading Christmas cheer in places like Jamaica and Acapulco with girls that aren't her. And do you remember the 'Tinsel Convention' in Vegas? That's just the sort of thing that would upset most wives. Say, weren't you married on Catalina? And don't you still have a residence there? That means, she could file for divorce there, if she wanted to. And, if I remember right, California is a Community Property state. Yeah, that would be just about the biggest shame of all."

    He said a couple of words that I can't repeat here because the last thing I want to do is tarnish his image and then, "Take it, you chiseler!"

    Of course, the Canadians objected to that. "Why does that hoser get the cool phone?" Doug demanded. So he had to give them cool phones, too. That created a trade imbalance that the US just can't afford, so I talked Santa into giving me my newest staff members, Aiko, Aimi and Aini...three identical triplets from Tokyo.

    That's when I left, because if Bob and Doug somehow gained an equal amount or even more Christmas goodies, I don't want to know about it because I did enough for one day. So that's when I came home...to find Britney Spears standing on her head in my driveway singing The Star Spangled Banner. Wearing just her underwear.

    I later discovered that there's a good explanation for that. My Lingerie Modeling Department is hosting a Truth Or Dare tournament and Britney is the special celebrity guest. First though, I got out of the car, and said, "Britney! What do you think you're doing? It's 53 degrees out here! Go put on some clothes right now before you freeze to death!"

    Aiko, Aimi and Aini laughed at me and said I made Santa seem young. Then, I felt really bad, because Brit explained that she was doing a dare and told me all about the Truth Or Dare tournament and that all the proceeds were going to charity and I had just cost a bunch of starving widows and orphans thousands of dollars by ruining her dare.

    Then I took Aiko, Aimi and Aini inside and had to listen to Suzette rant, rave and complain about absolutely everything, up to and including identical Japanese triplets. And still, after all that, I am giving today one and a half stars.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Monday November 30, 2009
    Monday, November 30th, 2009
    5:11 pm
    I'll Be Fine Here...Alone
    First things first: This is not my fault. The brilliant, if I do say so myself, review that I wrote for this week's Californication (Season 3 Episode 10: Dogtown) is not what you are reading right now and it will not be read by you or anyone else until after I am dead, because that's when all the jackals on my staff will pillage my files and publish everything I specifically said not to publish. And they'll get away with it, too, because the head of my in-house legal team and personal lawyer, Grace Van Owen, is just as money grubbing, crooked and determined to get me even after I'm gone as the rest of them.

    Grace had nothing to do with this...so far, anyway...though. This wasn't even the work of the other two usual suspects---Suzette and Drusilla---it is, instead, the work of my Editor In-Chief, Style Manual. Sometimes I think she is more crazy than the rest of them combined and after I finish telling you what happened just now with this week's Californication review, no one would blame you for thinking I'm crazy for only sometimes thinking it.

    Get this: After she read it, she said, "Not bad. You just need to add a derogatory comment or two about Tiger Woods and his recent accident."

    I asked her why, and she answered, "Because African Americans, SUV owners and male golfers are the only three major demographic groups you haven't managed to offend yet and the piece just feels naked and incomplete without it."

    "And just WHO have I offended?" I demanded.

    "Oh, let us count the groups," She answered. "Well, not all of them, because that would take all night. So let's limit, in the interest of time constraints, ourselves to gays, lesbians, straight people, religious people, atheists, senior citizens, people with any form of body art, single people, married people---and I figure that the observations about Tiger will include them, too, but I don't see that as a problem because anyone who has read that far into the piece won't mind a second small minded unfair attack on matrimony---and last but not least, female Hispanic editors."

    I knew that last one was coming because---surprise---Style is a female Hispanic editor. And she's not only hyper sensitive about it but she also has a bad habit of transferring her feelings of guilt and inadequacy to innocent victims like me. It's almost always me. Why is it me all the time?

    So I had to explain to her that it's not my fault that she's emotionally stunted, frigid and has a major league fear of commitment and that she should quit taking it out on me and she said, "If you are referring to the other night, I had a headache. I was on my period. I was also in the middle of a teleconference with my mother, grandmother and God Mother. And you hadn't even shaved yet! You know how much I hate that! What did you expect me to do? Toss away the laptop, sprawl out on the floor and shout, "OH YES! COME GET ME, BIG BOY, RIGHT NOW?????"

    I nodded and said, "Yes. That would have been the polite thing to do."

    And then she went on and on and on and on about every insane figment of her imagination that usually stays buried in that tiny little brain of hers...and just to set the record straight, I am not mean to her at all, ever. Right now, for instance, I'm not going to say anything about her tiny deformed diseased little mind and am instead going to say how beautifully its' packaged inside her adorable face which is conveniently attached to her completely yummy body.

    See? I just gave her a huge compliment when I have every right to simply be angry with her. But will I get any credit for that? No. I won't get any credit at all. And she should be sprawling herself all over the floor right now, shouting, "OH YES! COME GET ME, BIG BOY, RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!"

    But she won't. And the upshot of all this is that I'm too upset to do any more reviewing of this week's Californication and that means that you aren't going to get to see any of my sensitive (And decidedly non homophobic) thoughts on Hank kissing Charlie.

    But I will say that if you are new to Californication, please skip this episode until you've seen a bunch of the good ones. And no, it's not because of the disturbing kiss. You might even find it funny, charming, endearing or maybe even erotic. That's up to you and I don't care either way.

    What I do care about is the quality of the writing, which was unbearably bad. Especially the dialogue. Most especially (But just as especially not limited to) the dialogue between Becca, Karen and Marcy (Not the ideas and the story arcs they were projecting because they were fine but the way they were stated was really bad). That's why I'm asking you to skip this one until you already love the show as much as I do. Because by then, you'll be more than ready to forgive this strike out and just remember all the home runs. And, more importantly, you'll be looking forward to the next one.

    Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to go find a way to defuse a wildly unstable atomic bomb that's masquerading as a very hot little female Hispanic editor with a big time attitude problem. If you have any tips on how to do it, I'd really appreciate them.

    Current Mood: depressed
    Current Music: Coast To Coast AM---Sunday November 29, 2009
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