The kind of school shootings everyone can enjoy

I'm proud to be from a region of Texas that includes this community:

HARROLD, Texas (AP) -- A tiny Texas school district will allow teachers and staff members to carry concealed firearms to protect against school shootings, provided the gun-toting employees follow certain requirements.

The small community of Harrold in north Texas is a 30-minute drive from the Wilbarger County Sheriff's Office, leaving students and teachers without protection, said David Thweatt, superintendent of the Harrold Independent School District. The lone campus of the 110-student district sits near a heavily traveled highway, which could make it a target, he argued.


I predict an exponential increase in apples for the teachers.

If the teachers in my schools had possessed guns, there would have been daily bloodbaths. Or at least 8th-grader Brandon Bacon would have thought twice about calling science teacher/Vietnam vet Mr. Briscoe a "commie" and challenging him to a fight in the hall. And Aaron Larson may have been the victim of more than a good choking at the hands of sometimes-unhinged history teacher Mr. Blow. This was all in junior high. I'd hate to think about what would have gone down in high school when there was at least one war vet who was prone to flashbacks during class.

On the plus side, maybe I would be desensitized enough to keep from crying every time I see someone get a paper cut.

Saturday's alright for getting shit done... and fightin'

The best part about being a lush who goes drinking every night of the workweek is that sometimes I come home from work on Friday and take a nap that is intended to be an hour but lasts 12.

So by 9 a.m. on this beautiful Saturday morning, I've been for a run, gone grocery shopping, taken my car in for maintenance, cleaned my apartment, done laundry, reorganized some CDs (my iPod can eat its own iDick), started this blog entry and downloaded some new music (I'm sorry iPod; I didn't mean what I said, baby).

Now I'm listening to Taj Mahal, and I totally feel justified to start drinking at 9:30.

The things I do every time I drink whiskey

1. Say a bunch of crazy things.

a. Tell parents how ugly their babies are.
b. Offer to shave women's legs.



2. Throw punches in the air.

God can go to hell

This is fucking ridiculous. Why take Bernie Mac? Fuck everything and everybody.

Gasoline on a fire

News continues to pour in concerning the most recent Whiskey Wednesday escapades. Eyewitness accounts tell of a ranting, raving lunatic who really should have gone home hours before he did. This person apparently took issue with Joe Lieberman, the new Star Wars movies, really white people, and cripples. Reports say that he was an hour late to work the next day and was still drunk at lunch. This man is considered dangerous after six beers and six shots, and citizens are urged to avoid him at all costs. And for god's sake, don't give him any goddamn whiskey.

One cancer scare down, dozens to go

The results are in for real this time, and not only do I not have tongue cancer, but the cause of all the morning tongue sickness was pregnancy. My tongue had a whole litter of puppies. As much as I would love to keep all of these little blessings, I just don't have enough popsicles and lollipops to keep them all lappy. See, because...

They've had their first round of shots, they get along well with other tongues (and some cats), and there is a small rehoming fee to ensure they go to a loving home. Contact me for more information and pictures.

Like walking in the rain and the snow when there's nowhere to go

Everyone knows I'm terrified of rats, cockroaches and cockrats. Yet when my darling wife asked me to climb under the house and drag out the dismembered body she'd disposed of in the spring, I did it, no questions asked.

The upside of no keyless entry to my car

I can non-scientifically calculate my blood-alcohol content based on the radius of the key scratches in relation to the keyhole. A distance of one inch is right at the legal limit in Texas (0.08%). Key scratches on the the window indicate a blood-alcohol content twice the legal limit. Key scratches on my face, a broken side mirror, two flat tires, a deer on the windshield and waking up camouflaged by reeds and cattails near a pond means I was so drunk... How drunk were you?... I was soooo drunk that...

One more note on the election

Read this for reasons to fear McCain's underhanded attacks on Obama.

Always bet on white

I'm glad John McCain believes in running a respectful campaign and not going negative and avoiding the lowest common denominator. This country has truly turned a page in politics.








Here's the latest respectful ad McCain is running about Obama:




Hooray for American politics!