Call me Yamhill: July 2005

Sweet!

Help for the politically undecided - a guide to your political affiliation.

With elections coming up, we should all decide.
Question: How do you tell the difference between Democrats, Republicans, and Southern Republicans? The answer can be found by posing the following question:

You're walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children.
Suddenly, a dangerous looking man with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, raises the knife, and charges. You are carrying a Glock .40, and you are an expert shot. You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family. What do you do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Democrat's Answer:

Well, that's not enough information to answer the question!

Does the man look poor or oppressed?

Have I ever done anything to him that would inspire him to attack?

Could we run away?

What does my wife think?

What about the kids?

Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of his hand?

What does the law say about this situation?

Does the Glock have appropriate safety built into it?

Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway, and what kind of message does this send to society and to my children?

Is it possible he'd be happy with just killing me?

Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me?

If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me?

Should I call 911?

Why is this street so deserted?

We need to raise taxes, have a paint and weed day and make this a happier, healthier street that would discourage such behavior.

This is all so confusing!

I need to debate this with some friends for a few days and try to come to a consensus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Republican's Answer:

BANG!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Southern Republican's Answer:

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click....(sounds of reloading). BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click
Daughter: "Nice grouping, Daddy! Were those the Winchester Silver Tips??"

Do you? Do they?

I am on a computer that has 225 gigs of memory, holy hell! that is so much, and you know who owns it, my grandfather Kenny. Now get this, seven years ago my dad bought a used computer for him at a garage sale for about $60, and so far he has worn out two computers out besides the one I am on, and the one I am typing on is a Sony Viao, With KILLER RAM, KILLER GRAPHAICS, KILLER NET SPEED, KILLER SOUND SYSTEM, and enought Memory to make the best of us puke! wow, and the screen is a 25 inch flat screen with a cannon PIXMA iP6000D printer wireless everything.

This shows us how the generations that are father back than us sometime can do more than us young people, with more money and smarts they can out tech us all!

That is true, in one way

"The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything."
--Friedrich Nietzsche

Did you know?

ech·e·lon (ĕsh'ə-lŏn') n.

1. A formation of troops in which each unit is positioned successively to the left or right of the rear unit to form an oblique or steplike line.
2. A flight formation or arrangement of craft in this manner.
3. A similar formation of groups, units, or individuals.
A subdivision of a military or naval force: a command echelon.
A level of responsibility or authority in a hierarchy; a rank: a job in the company's lower echelon.

tr. & intr.v., -loned, -lon·ing, -lons.

To arrange or take place in an echelon.

[French échelon, from Old French eschelon, rung of a ladder, from eschiele, ladder, from Late Latin scāla, back-formation from Latin scālae, steps, ladder.]

FYI

FYI....NEW ANNOUNCEMENT...

The new name for Monday has officially been changed....monday will now be called: (drum roll please).................

MIDDLE FINGER MONDAYS

this goes out to all the fuckin people who think you feel like being @ work on monday, think you are supposed to do work on monday, want to talk to you about bullshyt on monday, are wide the fuck awake on monday, are happy they are at work on monday, the fuckin people calling on the damn phone sounding all fuckin chipper trying to sell my ass something, to the fucking people skipping around the fuckin building(they need to be smacked..I don't think the finger will do the trick), to the fuckin idiots that that spent the fuckin weekend talking about work or to anyone else that could possibly need to be given the fuckin finger on monday.............

THIS FINGERS FOR YOU BYTCH...

Mother A

The Frickin' Humanity

What sort of God-forsaken society have we become that we are officially too lazy to fry bacon? I mean sure, who hasn't had a bad taste left in their mouth over a nude bacon-frying session that got out of hand? But after the blisters scab over and you explain to your girlfriend the sores have nothing at all to do with that big-haired, saggy-assed truck stop whore you banged in the men's room of a Stuckey's on the way to Panama City for spring break in college, you live, you learn, you move on, and you wear your snowmobile suit while frying those oh-so-delicious strips of pork fats. I keep my grease-spattered snow suit hanging on a nail in the side of the refrigerator, right next to my oven mitts and dish washing helmet.

Is our everyday life becoming too convenient? Should we want for the sweet, salty, smokiness of bacon, now all we need do is reach in the cupboard for the bacon pocket and bacon up. But at what price? Will our national character suffer as a result? When our ancestors wanted bacon did they hitch up the horses and ski to the general store for a pull out of the bacon barrel? No, they EARNED their bacon, by luring the cow into the barn, milking out the raw bacon juice, constantly pumping the bacon churn for a fortnight at minimum before weaving the delicious, meaty treat on the bacon loom and frying it at temperatures so hot the spitting grease would burn children in the orphanage two counties over.

Now that was the sort of gumption that made this country great. But now, ready-made bacon threatens this great land, inducing lazy bastards to lounge around under clear stretch wrap, acting like Swanson's TV dinner meats, snacking on gravel all the live-long day. Do us all a favor and thoroughly reject this abomination before the almighty Kenny Rogers. (The chicken guy, not the angry pitcher.)

Oh, and if you think my tales are idiotic, take a gander at the back story on "Biscuit Boy," the chimp slinging Dwight Yoakam's Bakersfield Biscuits directly from the bed of his 1944 Chevrolet pickup. Don't fret; truck is clean since Biscuit Boy just hauled a load of ag lime this morning, that's what gives 'em the crunch! Personally, I find they taste a bit of hat, but that's just me.

Another site just given me is http://www.mcphee.com/bigindex/current/11476.html

World News Update!

Thursday July 14th 2005 - Reuters News Wire - Paris

President Chirac has officially raised the French terror alert from "Run" to "Hide". There are only two higher alert levels in France, which are "Surrender" and "Collaborate".

The rise was precipitated by a recent fire which destroyed France's white flag factory - effectively crippling their military.