Random Anal(ysis)

Random pieces that don’t quite fit categorization, but intended to entire a smile or more …

And now we return to our regularly scheduled inanity …


Sorry about the intensely verbose purge yesterday but I really had a lot of pent up frustration, and to have finally found release??? Come on! Can you really blame me?

All the same, from what I’ve been reading this morning, it does appear that I’ll be enjoying one mighty nifty piece of technology. So far, the only two “professional” opinion gripes about the Droid are: 1) the fact you can’t do the two finger / multi-point screen thing to zoom in or out (and the 2.1 release rolling out any day now fixes that); and 2) not quite as many apps, which is merely a function of time. Apart from that — and I direct this to each and every one of my friends who own iPhones and have been playful enough to tease me about the awesomeness of your device while mine sent me to the fringes of total psychosis

My phone is better than your phone!


Seriously …

Can your iPhone control your television / DVR?

Mine can!

If, perchance, you have my cell number, would you please shoot me a message w/ your phone number to my new gMail account? (BuckWezr) Cool, thanks! I created the Gmail account in anticipation of the new phone. With the Droid being driven by the Android operating system from Google, it only goes without saying that it quickly links up to anything else I have directly tied-in with Google. And I don’t have to install any retarded iTunes software to get my device up and running and fully sync’d. In fact, I don’t even have to connect it to my PC for anything other than to feed the battery.

Enough about the new phone, though …

Let’s have a little talk about honesty, shall we?

click to enlarge (you know the drill)

Actually, on second thought, let’s not.

Sometimes the blunt truth is just a little bit more than we really want to know about.

I mean, take this for example …


Is the brutal honesty of the message really of any consequence here? Unless you’re an exhibitionist, hopelessly drunk, or are otherwise deviant , you’re not going to be doing your business on that can!

However … some “dirty little secrets” are sort of fun to share with a select few …

Of course, this is something that HAS been known to not end so well …

Meanwhile, there will always be things that none of really care to know …

Yeah, seriously … not something ANYBODY wants to find out about.

Some things aren’t necessarily bad things, but they definitely don’t belong in the casually public domain …

that’s WalMart for ya!

I appreciate the girl’s enthusiasm, though!

And let’s face it, there ARE far worse things one can wear in public …

That’s just one of those moments where we are confronted with yet another dreaded memory that will scar our brains for life. As we all know, unless we’re lucky enough to be smitten with dementia, Alzheimer’s or amnesia, we’re stuck with these accidental images in life. There is no denying …


and as if that weren’t far enough down the rabbit hole, there are those who sometimes accomplish the unimaginable …

If you chose to NOT click to enlarge, I truly do understand …


Here’s a treat to help you recover from that last eye sore:

Good stuff!


You’re right, I owe you something a tad more soothing than that, don’t I?

So, I had a good time hanging out with my aunt and uncle last night. As the Spousal Unit and I were debating whether or not we were ready to leave Spanky’s, my uncle walks through the door. Well, seeings how that was the first time coming out to play in that particular litter box, there was no chance of us leaving him there alone!

And we had to introduce him to our many friends at our beloved pub …

But let’s save that for another blogging for some other time …


So, what else did this weekend hold in store for me? Apart from what packing we have done and the beginning of the move across town, of course. I can only hope that the “weather event” headed to our region on Thursday does not bring another major dumping of snow!

Ah, who cares about the weather … did you hear about the recent row in West Yorkshire over the town council’s decision to rename a renowned landmark? Yeah, they took down the old sign which read “Tickle Cock Bridge” and replaced it with one that read “Tittle Cott.” Yeah, I know … how gay is THAT?

Well, the elder citizens of that fair town raised holy hell and saw to it that its original, and they say rightful, name was restored earlier this week.

Seems the goodly folks of the United Kingdom have enjoyed a long history of scrounging up risque and otherwise entertaining names for many of their towns and landmarks …

Shetland and Orkney both have towns name “Twatt” …

Sandy Balls is the name of a resort of sorts in Hampshire, England; the name dates back to Henry VIII

You have Fingringhoe in Essex, England … an alleyway by the name of Back Passage in London … there’s Shitterton in Dorset, England and Fanny Hands Lane in Lincolnshire, England.
But wait, there’s more! You also have …

  • Cockshoot Close, Oxfordshire, England

  • Funbag Drive, Watford, England

  • Fanny Avenue, Derbyshire, England

  • Beaver Close, Surrey, England

  • Dick Court, Lanarkshire, Scotland

  • Felch Square, Powys, Wales

  • Lickfold, West Sussex, England

  • Rimswell, East Riding of Yorkshire, England

  • Spanker Lane, Nether Heage, Derbyshire

  • Cocknmouth Close, West End, Surrey

  • Friars’ Entry, Oxford, Oxfordshire, England

  • Butt Hole Road, Conisbrough, South Yorkshire

  • Cockermouth, Allerdale, Cumbria

  • Fine Bush Lane, Ruislip

  • Ladygate Lane, Ruislip

  • Hornyold Road, Malvern, Worcestershire, England

  • Crotch Crescent, Marston, Oxford, England

  • Cumming Court, Pitville, Gloucestershire, England

The PC police are gonna have their hands full in that part of the world!

Well, I guess I best get back to packing this house. Hopefully we can sneak out to catch Oren’s last set at Bluemont Winery later this afternoon.

Until next time …


Happy VD!


If you really think I’m the sort that recognizes Valentine’s Day as a legit observance … well … are you really serious?

Yeah, the scrawny, awkward, big nosed, Dumbo-eared kid that almost never received a single voluntary Valentine’s Day card from a girl is going to be stoked about stirring up all those childhood memories once a year.

Yeah … right.

All the same … I was a goodly husband and allowed the Spousal Unit to sleep in without the obligatory weekend morning routine that goes something along the lines of: “Guess who woke me up and told me you wanted to play?”

Aren’t I a great guy?


Actually, my snoring and generalized grouchiness found me in the guest room bed and as I started to wish myself a happy Valentine’s Day I was plagued by a story my mother told me when I was a little boy …

click to enlarge

. . .

So, I crawled out of bed, tip-toed downstairs and kicked the dog a few times. The good news is, she’d already been heavily abused by a psychopathic girlfriend when she was a puppy, so I figure there’s really not a lot to feel guilty about. I mean, it’s all she really knows so what’s the difference?

And here’s the real kicker for me …the biggest, loudest, most obnoxious “animal rights advocates” that I know are pro abortion. Has the irony of that ever crossed you as “funny”?

Ah, irony … where would be with out?

So anyhow, back to this morning. As is my Sunday morning habit, I snuck out of the house to grab a cup of coffee and then swung by the crack house downtown. My tranny “friend”, Pat, was — needless to say — sorely displeased that I didn’t bring him, ‘er I mean, “her” … kinda … damn, WHAT EVER ….

I failed to bring a card, and I was empty handed, not even a small clutch of flowers …

This was not a good moment at the local crack house for Buck …

Like I should have been surprised. [sigh]

I swung by the crack house last week to tidy up the place a bit and and to do a little painting. Let’s face it, crack houses are not known as being the paramount of interior design. Some say it’s because crack whores and trannies are vile, slovenly people, but I say the people who claim such things are just being ignorant.

But that’s neither here nor there … I was nice enough to do something good for the local crack addicts and Pat took it as a personal affront …

Pat can really be a violent little bitch sometimes, lemme tell ya.

. . .

So, as I surfed the internet this morning to find something really thoughtful to send to my wife as an email link (you know the routine, “honey, if we weren’t so broke and if I weren’t such a stubborn pig who refuses to cow-tow to this nonsensical farce of a tradition, this is what I would have bought for you …”

You guys ever try that? It might not get you a steak and a beejer, but you really should give it a try some time.

Just make sure you’re not sending them links to things like vacuum cleaners, informercial diet “secrets” or blow-up dolls. I’ve tried all three and let me tell ya … things went better for me this morning at the local crack house.


This morning, however, I found something so profoundly wondermous that I had to share it with the world. I hope Mama-Buck doesn’t feel the least bit cheapened by me sharing this with all of you before I even show it to her …

This morning, though … I discovered that I actually DO love chocolate!

You see, back when I was a wee kid, I’d purchased a massive 2 lb bag of chocolate chips at the Commissary (the equivalent of a grocery store on a military base) late one afternoon and tucked them in a my book bag to munch on the next day at school. As it turns out, I ate the entire bag, mostly during the afternoon. While on the school bus ride home, my stomach began to let me know that I had just made a mistake that it was going to make sure I remembered for the rest of my life.

While on the bus ride home, I turned about 20 shades of increasingly pale white as well as an overwhelming urge to vomit while the opposite end of the digestive tract was fighting back an intense yearning to explode as well. Somehow, I made it to the end of the bus ride, I even made it a half block from the bus stop to a small common area behind by house. As I approached the gate into our back yard, the nausea and dizziness overcame me and I immediately doubled over and began projectile vomiting in a manner that I had never known and could only pray that I would never experience again …

Of course, I was still too young to know anything about what was to come a mere decade or so later when I discovered the joys of what is sometimes referred to as “binge drinking”, but alas, I digress.

The rest of that afternoon and evening was spent in a nauseated stupor, mostly seated on the toilet so my body could violently discharge the massive amounts of chocolate that had passed too far earlier in the day to be evacuated orally.

All this to say that I was a HUGE non-fan of chocolate for many, many years to come …

Until today!

click to enlarge … you know the routine!

Ah, yes … chocolate!

How I love thee … let me count the ways …

Come on … tell me this is not the coolest use of chocolate … ever!!!!

Oh … YES!

And it doesn’t necessarily have to be fashioned into pieces of clothing and the like. Oh, no … sometimes au nautural ain’t so bad either!


I must admit there are times when chocolate just doesn’t cut it for me.

Are you familiar with the mighty mealworm? Staple diet for pet lizards and other captive animals …

There’s some sicko out west who got the “great” idea to explore the wonderful world of chocolate delicacies and stumbled upon something that I, personally, consider to be an epic failure …

Remember our friends, the mighty mealworms? Yeah, a guy by the name of Larry Peterman decided covering those [faux curse] with chocolate somehow turn them from vomit inducing to delectable.


Seriously … you can drop by his website, HOTLIX and check out his entire line of candies and confections that mostly feature bizarre and perfectly distasteful insects in the center.

In the meantime, check out this sampling of “treats” …

Yeah, my sentiments, exactly!

But anyhow …

As I continued my search for “I love you so much I’d buy you this if I weren’t such a cheap turd” pretend presents, I got distracted thinking about how much I miss my Koi pond as well as aquariums in general. As the caffeine settled in, it occurred to me: why not try and combine the best of BOTH worlds???

Mama Buck said, “Uh … yeah. Not a chance.”

. . .

A little while later she was on her laptop, Facebook on one browser tab, and some online store in another. She called me over to point out what SHE thinks would have been the perfect gift for me to give …

It was at this moment that I was suddenly translated back to a crucial moment of my early childhood … even though it was many, many years later before I fully appreciated the gravity of this one little phrase the freakish little girl down the street once shared with me …

Isn’t that how it is, though?

I blame it on the Aussies …


The terms “snowpocolypse” and “snowmageddon” have quickly become over-used, and for good reason … we’re still digging out of 3 FEET of this stuff and now they’re calling for upwards of another2 feet tonight. It’s hard to not talk or write about it, though, as this is quickly becoming an historic event. This weekend we toppled the all-time record for a single snowfall: the previous record was 28 inches set back in 1922.

We slammed that one with a full 34.5″ inches Saturday.

With today’s snowfall it seems that we’ll be surpassing the all-time single season total accumulation by a WIDE margin.

. . .

So, Mikey Rez and I got to talking a while back and in the course of our conversation the subject of making documentaries came up. At that point, Larry (the Snowshark), was a local phenomenon. The only documented sighting being the Shack (the “tiki bar” behind Spanky’s). As we bantered about the sorts of documentaries that could be done which might involve the lives and times of any of the regulars or barflies, we stumbled across the perfect name for our production company:

The Recovery Channel

Your world … the morning after.

Personally, I really liked that one! In fact, I dare say I was not alone.

I mention this because the first documentary is most likely going to involve the Snowpocolypse and the plague of snow beasts we’ve already had to survive.

For years now the mysterious migrations of the snow shark have confounded biologists. Where do they come from, where are they going, how did they get here and — most importantly — WHY?

Fortunately for the world of science, I am the resident ambassador to the secretive land of the sub-atomic beer vortices. Here … or should I say, “there” … lies a world in which the laws of quantum physics reign supreme … where the impossible is possible, where that which seems unseemly is instead not, but instead rather seemalbe … a world where it is actually possible to eff the ineffable …

It is from this place where the manifestation of localized gravity storms arises.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?

My point being: the purpose behind the migrations of the snow sharks is — thanks to the wonders of subatomic beer physics — painfully clear to see. Being the opportunistic predators that they are, they are simply following the migrations of ….

the snow seal:

Which is, as it turns out, the snow shark’s favorite dish!

In fact, it’s a staple part of their diet and they will die within months without it.

Unfortunately for those of us in Leesburg, there’s something else on the snow shark’s desired menu …


Yeah, that’s right … Larry is specifically after Mikey Rez. For reasons I am not at liberty to discuss, there’s something special about Mikey …

Ok, you locals can knock it off … we know his mother was rather fond of that way of introducing him to her friends as “spatial”  …

But as we were …


There’s something special about Mikey’s anatomy that makes him a delicacy in the world of snow sharks. Without snow cow here to save us (he was arrested and our lawyer has instructed me to not discuss any of the details of his arrest nor the charges that may, or not, be filed in the coming hours) … we have only ourselves to rely upon.

We have to work as a team and make sure that the Rez is not caught by the snow shark.


What you may not know is that, without Mikey Rez, the very cosmic fiber that holds this town together will come unwound and all hell will break loose.

And this is of importance to you too, dear reader … should the demons be loosed, the cloud of doom and chaos that comes with it will spread via my fingertips — through this keyboard — and into your screen …

And ultimately into your mind …

Believe it or not, Mikey Rez is the Laughing Buddha of this generation.

He’s a Magic Negro …

… and the Pied Piper …

all wrapped into one.

As such, it is vital to our survival that we protect our Rez.

. . .

Snow sharks, however, are currently the least of our worries.

Right now, even at this very moment, I have Mikey on a 24 hour a day watch. What I cannot do, however, is protect the rest of the fair citizens of this strange and wondrous little town.

I say that because the magnitude of the coming storm makes it inevitable that snowanimals which have remained hidden for centuries are certain to make an appearance in the coming hours and days to come.

Be afraid, my friends …

Be very, very afraid.


I’m serious too, dudes!  Have you ever encountered the stripped snow possum?

That’s one badass marsupial that you do NOT want to tangle with.


In much the same way that garlic can be used to ward off certain evil spirits, and a crucufix can be used to ward off vampires, there’s a very special talisman that can keep you safe from the ravages of the snow possum …


And for the very special, stupidly low price of four easy payments of $39.99, you too can own your very own ” ‘Snowpossum Be Gone’ Magic Talisman and Soap Dispenser!

Not available in stores anywhere!

. . .

Of course, if you’re a real cheapshit, you’re always welcome to give THIS a try …

Good luck with that …

. . .

All of the stress surrounding the coming storm has been rough on my nerves. In short, they’re beyond frayed. So much so that I’m starting to have some pretty intense stress dreams and nightmares.


Last night, after a long — way too long — afternoon of imbibing and Golden Tee, I finally fell asleep, albeit a very light and tosssy-turny sort of a sleep.

And as I drifted off into the dark black haze of the unknowing, the darkness swiftly became increasingly brighter until the entire universe around me was sopping in a bright, intense white blaze.

Without knowing how (isn’t that dreams almost ALWAYS go????) I found myself seated in a large front-loader sort of a rig.

I was plowing a path across a frozen lake and as I drove I grinned a large, smug grin, knowing for certain that my efforts to blaze a path to the tent city of drunken ice fishermen would surely land me in their good graces.

And when it comes to ice fishermen, there’s only one thing in greater supply than ice:


As I pushed my way through the blizzard conditions and mounds of snow-drift, I heard a strange, albeit vaguely familiar, sound. It was a rumble, yet the distinct sound of something very, very large was crackling beneath me.

Before the thoughts could form themselves into words, all hell broke loose …

Suddenly, everything was silent except for the screams of abject terror within. I was instantly plunged into a suffocating sea of unimaginable cold and pain.

Lucky for me, I was wearing my magical thermal undies!

What, you may ask, are magic thermal undies …

and what makes them so magical?


Upon being completely immersed in waters colder than 55 degrees, you are instantly transported to the closest shoreline.

Granted, that was a rather nifty benefit, but as I sat there on the shore attempting to regain my composure I couldn’t help but notice the denziens of the ice fishing tent city, hundreds of yards even further away.

As I sighed in frustration, knowing that my precious, golden nectar was no longer within reach, a little snow gnome walked along my side and snickered an evil little, Leprechaun-like snicker.

I snorted angrily, “What the hell are you laughing at, you little snow turd?”

SnowGnome: “Why,” he cackled, “your naivete, of course!”

Confused, I blinked my eyes a few times, remaining confusedly silent.

The SnowGnome loosened his belt, reached around into the back of his pants — so deep that I feared he might be attempting to give one of his internal organs a massage — and a moment later pulled his hand back up with a pair binoculars.

He pushed them towards me, still grinning maniacally.

“And what the hell,” I asked, “am I supposed to do with that?”

SnowGnome: “Take them, you fool … take them and look across the icy waters, just beyond what should have been your watery grave!”

“You mean the ice fishing camp?”

He shook his head in irritation and barked, “Take and look, silly mortal FOOL!”

I was too cold to start a fight with this little imp of a demon so I took the looking glass and focused my eyes on the camp hundreds of yards away, in the midst if the frozen waters.

As I focused, I was surprised at what I saw …

Those weren’t drunken fishermen!

This could only be the lost clan of Up-Helly-Aa Vikings!

This particular Viking clan, or so legend has it, went into a frightful fit one journey when it was discovered by the crew that the captain had not packed enough alcoholic provisions.

Upon learning that their daily ration of warming swill had run out, a mutiny ensued.

The crew set their longboat afire and sank to the frozen depths with her.

I looked again, convinced that what I had just seen could not be.

Focusing more towards the blazing fire which seemed to be at the center of the camp, I continued to chase away the thoughts of shock and disbelief.

I turned my attention to the SnowGnome and asked in a whisper, “I thought the Ice Vikings went down with their ship?”

With a cackle he answered, “They did, they did!!! But Loki, their patron demi-god of alcoholic mishaps, snatched their souls and have kept them hidden from Valhalla ever since.”

He paused, grinning in that but wait, there’s more” sort of way.

“Every once in a while Loki will stir the skies with his finger and cause monstrous snow events like the blizzard plaguing your people now. It is during these times that the Ice Vikings are released from their icy lair to wreak havoc amongst the pansy-ass citizens of your modern world.”

I stared at him in silence, confused.

“Even your own god,” he snarled, “is sorely disappointed with the effeminate ways of your people.”

As I tried to make sense of his slurred speech and strange words, I was suddenly overcome by a blinding white-out of snow and wind.



The wind suddenly stopped and I was enveloped in complete and utter silence.

All I could hear was my own breath and, it almost seemed, the beating of my own heart.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my left foot.

I snapped my attention from that which can almost be considered not worthy of consideration and looked down at my leg …

To my shock and horror, I saw the most terrifying snowanimal ever known …

I had just been bitten by a Snow-Croc!



Just as I noticed the first hint of blood, the Croc evidently sensed the tension in my muscles …

As he rolled his eyes back into his head: Oh holy dear mother of Bob, I silently cried out to myself, this bastard’s going into a death roll,

I’m a goner!


At just that moment — from out of nowhere  — a man jumped onto the back of the Snow-Croc, wedging his hands between the tip of the jaw and its snout, and he — in an instant — wrestled the beast away from my barely torn flesh.




“CRIKEY, MATE! That was a CLOSE one!”

My eyes blinked in complete and utter confusion once again. The only thing that amazed me more than the fact that I was sitting face to face with Steve Irwin was the fact that the edge of the lake had melted slightly and the Snow-Croc went from being a stealthy white beast to — somehow — about five shades of green.

I shook my head and the only words that came to mind instantly blurted out of my mouth, “How’d he turn so green so quickly?”

“Oh,” Stevo laughed, “this’ns a Sheila ya see?”

I shrugged my shoulders, still perfectly confused.

“Ya see,” he grinned maniacally, “if ya stick yer thumb up the bum of a female snow croc, she’ll turn completely docile right away and — for reasons nobody rightly understands — she’ll turn a silly shade of green too.”

I blinked a few more times.

Steve blurted out again, “In’t that Uh’MAZIN?!?!?

“I mean, look at her …

“Whe’s a real beaut, is’nt she?

“I love these animals …”


I finally spoke up, “You have your thumb inside of her asshole?”

“Yeah,” he smiled innocently, “she really enjoys it!”

I blinked again … confused.

Steve broke the silence: “Wanna have a go at it?”

. . .

. . . to be continued …

OMFB, It’s the Snowpocalypse!


Oh … my … freaking … BOB!

So much for the brilliant idea of driving across town to bring one of my servers online. I’ll try that trip to the office some other time; the roads are downright treacherous!

Treacherous, I say!

So, we’re quickly approaching “storm of the century” status. The measurements I took a couple hours ago averaged roughly 27 inches and I dare say we’ve seen no less than another 2 inches ever since. And they’re calling for up to another foot now that the storm has stalled over the D.C. area!

. . .

My animals are not the smartest that ever lived, they proved as much today!

Sparky, my Jack Russell, decided she was going to follow me when I attempted to drive across town earlier. I had no idea until I got home 20 minutes or so later. She was a couple blocks from the house following in the tracks left by my truck. To her it must have felt like traversing a major glacial crevace!

All the same, it was funny as all get-out seeing her try to run away from the truck as I came lumbering back up the hill through the neighborhood.

Mr. Floyd, our bigass white tomcat thought he’d get a bit adventurous too. I let him and Sparky out at the same time this morning and sort of forgot about them while I extricating the truck from its snowy grave.

Floyd, as is his habit, started his first outing of the day by dashing across the porch and jumping onto the fence, using the guard rail on the porch as a halfway point to propel himself off of.

He then made the perfectly less than advisable decision to jump off his narrow 6 foot tall perch onto what he thought was terra firma.

Nothing could be further from the truth!

He eventually made his way to the door on the back deck about an hour later! LOL

Bear in mind, we’re talking over two feet of snow and significantly deeper drifts!

Both of those buggers were lucky to have lived. With a Nor’easter of biblical proportions like the one we’re buried in now comes the inevitable visitations of the snow sharks …

But this isn’t just any snow storm …


the Snowpocalypse!

As I made my up the hill here in the neighborhood I saw a small white figure out of the corner of my eye. In total Steve Irwin style I jumped out of the truck and started digging into the snow bank. Thank god I had my camera!

The last time I saw a snow turtle was in 1979 … and I was as high as giraffe pussy that night.

Same night I was introduced to the snow frog.

It’s probably no coincidence that this plague of snow frogs we’re experiencing comes on the heels of an evening whereupon I drank entirely too much beer and ate far too much chili.

Here’s just the ones that I pulled off the windshield of my truck this morning:

This storm is so intense that we’ve seen the return of the greater Loudoun glacier! So, maybe that whole thing I had about global warming a few weeks ago was just an inconvenient joke.

Some of the rarer species of snow animals only come out when the accumulation totals are 20 inches and more. Today we are witnessing some species that were previous thought extinct.

Shortly before sunrise I was assaulted and later violated by the greater Loudoun mountain snowrilla …

Believe it or not, the Snow Joey is actually the marsupial equivalent of the hyena. While I was being humiliated and emotionally scared for life by the snowrilla, a pair of snow Joeys stood guard and just cackled like the foul beasts they are …

And the biggest risk of all is the single deadliest animal in the snow kingdom.

Don’t venture out into this stuff today if you don’t have to. When this snow gets this deep, the risk of attack becomes almost inevitable.

Yes, sports fans … the snow snake.

What is amazing about the snow snake is that it is the deadliest snake on Earth. What makes that amazing is the fact that they have no fangs, no venom, and they do not constrict their prey like the python and constrictor species.

Yet they are the deadliest snake on Earth …

Typically, snow snakes dine on the pygmy snow monkey …

If you’ve never tried them before, you must! They taste great, not too filling, and goes perfect with cheap beer and peanuts! I prefer them sushimi style, but they fry up really well too.

. . .

With light snow falls of several inches or less, snow snakes pose little to no threat. As the depth increases so too does the risk of attack.

Hey cool, Jay Bizzle and Eh’mi just showed up. Big balls those two, made it all the way up the hill without an attack. Must’ve been the smell of bacon that lead them up the hill.

I dare say Spanky’s is about the only place in the entire county that’s open today and it sounds like we’re following Jay Bizzle and his bride out for round two.

Well, folks … I guess I best take a quick shower and strap on the snow boots.

. . .

You’re probably wondering how it is that the snow snake can be the deadliest snake on Earth if it can’t bite and doesn’t constrict, huh?

It crawls up your ass and freezes you to death.

True story, but that’ll have to wait for some other blog some other time.

Stay warm, sports fans!

And don’t go out on the roads unless you HAVE to.

Or if you’re headed out to Spanky’s. We’ll check in again later!

Onward …


I awoke this morning in a quiet and calm mood. Didn’t stay out too late … didn’t have too many beers. I gave my mind a few minutes to discover if there might be any remote quadrant of the body proper which was in a state of relative discomfort. None was to be found.

One of the corners of the auto-pilot wiring of my psyche – one that tends to be, unlike the rest of me, a morning person – speaks up, “Neato!”

My dog, Sparky, had been attempting to sleep at my feet last night. Given the amount of tossing and turning that one tends to experience when sleeping on a not-so-built-for-sleep sofa, she didn’t get much of it.

Jack Russell terriers, if you haven’t noticed, tend to be a bit on the high strung side.

And yeah, I said “sofa” …

Told ya, the bacon thing really isn’t going over very well here at la casa del Buck.

(pics here are almost always of the “click to enlarge” variety)

Anyhow … I let Sparky out to begin her elaborate morning routine of divining the perfect points of evacuation. And with this one, it’s every bit as formulaic as it can possibly get.

Much like the directions on the back of a shampoo bottle except in place of “wash” one places a single word that somehow embodies the intense, almost frenetic, manner in which she goes about intently scrutinizing randomly disjointed spots of grass in search of that Point of Perfection.

Nothing less will do, unless it’s a miserable, rainy day.

Otherwise, she invests a level of energy into this search for that point of perfection that one might expect from a knight in search of uncovering a matter of divine providence!

To wit, she deposits, whether by way of micturation or defecation matters not. And yes, the former, in every case, preceding the latter.

And herein we replace the word “rinse.”

Still with me here?

Yeah, it’s Search, Deposit, Repeat.

But anyhow … I’m getting side-tracked here …

The air was calm and the sky tinted with a colorful hint of a glow from a sunrise surely taking place on the other side of the dark, looming grayness. It clearly felt like snow was soon to come.

I quietly stretched my arms, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. As I shook my head in bemusement at Sparky’s frenetic search for said Point of Perfection, a slight breeze picked up. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and rocked quickly on my bare feet, attempting to only have smaller parts of the foot in contact with the deck — which hadn’t seen temperatures above freezing in days — at any one given moment.

As I turned my back to the wind I looked down and smiled as I watched the first hints of snow dancing past my feet. There is something so soothing and serene about the snow. It brings some strange sense of purity and innocence with it.

But, like much in life, appearances are often little more than a mirage.

The snow, you see, brings a certain ‘something’ out of the animal within us all. Maybe it’s because the snow covers everything, blurring all that we are otherwise accustomed to seeing, yet rarely even noticing, in our day to day lives, and in the sudden absence of that which is familiar there is a resulting sense of panic and potential peril. In the animal world this may happen because the food that birds regularly forage for is usually in plain sight.

Suddenly, everything has changed in an instant and nothing is as it just quite recently was.

How is a bird to know whether or not there may still be anything resembling food beneath this mysterious white veil???


That bird's about to pounce me, isn't it?

Yes … fear of the unknown and hunger can bring out something downright fiendish in virtually any animal.

And when that fear comes as a result of snow fall, that can only mean one thing …

Well, two … if you really think about it.

Or more …

But in the context of this story, at least at this point within whatever portion of said story is about to unfolded before you, it can only mean one thing!


And you remember what happened the last time we had a deep snow and the ensuing schools of snow sharks that came with it, right?

Yeah, we almost lost Mikey Rez!


And we don’t want that!


Man, I really need to arrange something where you guys can listen to what I’m listening to while I write this! Oh man, that would so thoroughly change things!

But anyhow …

Perhaps you know how drivers are here in the mid-Atlantic region of the U.S. (and it grows increasingly rude and random the further north one drives. Well, to a point) They can be biggest collection of untrained, ignorant, self-centered, feckless morons absolutely devoid of any level of what is known as situational awareness … and with cell phones shoved unhumanly deep inside their ear holes!!!! These people can hardly, if at all, accomplish a feat as simple as parallel parking; well, at least not without undue anxiety and freakishly jerkish miscues that would make Michael J. Fox conducting a symphony look absolutely normal.

But I digress … my point is, “Virginia” drivers really are a difficult breed. I attribute most of that to the transient nature of the D.C. area, but that’s another subject for another blog some other day.

Today we have far more pressing matters to contend with.

Who will save us from the snow shark?

A mere few weeks ago we were beyond safe as we were blessed by a visit from one of the rarest, most severely endangered species of mammal on this planet: the Arctic shaven snow pig!

And … there’s a little something your old uncle Buck here has been keeping from you.

Olga, Leesburg’s own patron swine, flew, non-stop, from the mountains outside of Leesburg all the way to Haiti … did I mention this was NON STOP??? … to volunteer after the tragic earthquake.

Yeah … it doesn’t take a very active imagination to come to grips with what direction that decision ultimately took …


Without our token Arctic shaven snow pig, where then can we turn for salvation from the certain return of the snow sharks?!?!?!

Of course, the answer is simple!

Snow Cow!


However …

Remember my reference to the local traffic earlier? Well, just the mere mention of precipitation brings out most Neanderthalically idiotic driving tendencies imaginable from these people.

Snow Cow, due to the uncertainty of this weekend’s weather, instead chose to not cut short his stay at some weird hedonistic resort somewhere in the Caribbean …


Come on … are you trying to tell me – with a straight face – that you’d rather deal with gridlock traffic and worse?!?!?!

In this hypothetical question, you’re trying to walk a mile on Snow Cow’s shoe’s, not the ladies’.

You did understand that, right?

Anyhow …

All of this to say that I dare say that I very well may not be getting around to finishing my official blog disclaimer today. I’ve yet to check in with work, no less shower, shave, or brush my teeth.

I did, however, accomplish the other earlier; quite obviously … do you think this much chattery and creativity is possible with all of that blockage?


All of this to say that you want to keep your eyes open for this man …



Well, D’UHHH … he’s our savior from the snow shark!

Oh, you mean why should we keep our eyes open for him?

Because we want to make sure he is able to approach a snow shark without being the distractions of being engaged in conversation. So, in an effort to make certain he remains undistracted we have to ensure that he basically goes unnoticed … and we do that by keeping an eye out for him and then pretending that we never actually saw him … but yet we can, with a clean conscience, comfort our fellow Spankians with the knowledge that He is in our midst … somewhere.

But make sure to remind anybody that you tell that you saw Him to remember to strictly adhere to the rule that they must keep their eyes open and remember to forget what they saw.

Because the first rule of Snow Cow is that you never talk about Snow Cow.

And we’re not … I’m just blogging … that’s different.

Speaking of which, I really should be going now.

Until next time, remember …

And now …

A Word From Our Sponsor(s) …

Today’s hearty servings of tossed brain droppings and assorted mental excrement would not have been possible without our good friend Mikey Rez and the goodlier people still at …

(click to enlarge!) ... ((please)) (and thanks again, Mikey Rez!!!)

Expanding your horizons …


That’s right, sports fans … it’s time once again to have your horizons expanded, despite the fact that you are probably unaware that your horizons were even in need of expansion. But that’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?

How else would you have learned about things like mental laxatives or banal lube?

* To give credit where credit is due, it was my old blogging friend Agent Neptune who turned me on to the inconvenient realities of cranial constipation and the whole concept of mental laxatives. His patent-pending Lax-a-Thot is genuinely inspired.

But anyhow …

Of Mice, of Men and of Pornographic Pachyderms …

I’ve been getting quite a bit of “Dude, why???” from the Spanky’s crew.

Seems the whole elephant butt thing was met with quite a few mixed emotions.

Some were disgusted. As you can plainly see, such was also the case with the snow man there to the left.

If you think it’s a bad thing to see, just imagine being on the receiving end of something like that …

and not knowing it’s coming!

Yeah, talk about “highly unwelcome!”

Although, there is at least one or two people from my favorite little pub who’d probably enjoy something like that.


Odder still is the the number of people who actually questioned if that was a real photo, or if it was something that someone manipulated with some sort of graphics software.

Well, I firmly believe that we are held accountable by God according to the gifts we’ve been given. As the smartest (and, dare I say: most humble) man in town, it is therefore my responsibility to enlighten those whose minds have not been endowed with the manifest wisdom mine own has.

Case in point: pachyderm love is infinitely more complex than Llama love. Llama’s pretty much just spit … that’s about it. Seriously, what the fixation is that some have with llama love absolutely escapes me.

Apart from having more wool, and wool of a better quality than most sheep …

But let’s try and stay focused for a change, shall we?

In the event that you are unaware of the image in question, allow me to save you the trouble of digging through other recent blog posts!

Yeah, if you’re so inclined, you can click to view the full sized image.

If nothing else, though, you can at least thank me for not assaulting your eye holes with the larger, more explicit version of that pic.

Am I wrong?

Anyhow …

For my doubting Thomas’ and Tomasina’s …

Yeah, much like that shocking ad campaign that asks, “Centipedes in my vagina? It’s more likely than you think!”

… if you’ve never seen it, you can click on the link above labeled, “Vowel Movements” … click and enjoy …

… go ahead, go check it out … I’ll wait for you!

* * *

What’d you think of the video?

That’n made me laugh out loud.

Anyhow … where were we?

Ah, yes … elephant and elephant strangeness!

I was relieved to discover that the fixation isn’t 100% trunk to butt action …

Okay, so maybe it’s really not all that much easier on the eyes …

But here’s the thing … and, believe it or not, I actually do have somewhat of a point here … it’s not just the elephants that are into these sorts of things.

Shockingly enough, mankind — after countless eons of observing this sort of lurid behavior — has decided it wants in on some of the action too!

Need proof?

Uh, yeah … that’s just nasty!

Nastier still is the fact that someone thought this whole experience would be good for a friggen children too!!!

I know … I”m sorry …

. . .

Did that help any?

Here, maybe this will help make it all better …

Click to enlarge (you earned it)

Ya know, it COULD be worse …

I wonder what sort of grade he got for THAT science project! Hahahahahaha!

Anyhow … I did promise to change the subject, did I not?

Moving along …

Did that clear your mental palate?

Daggonit …

Mama-Buck is ready to do all that crappy responsibility stuff. Grocery store, pay bills, blah blah blah.

I just want drink a few beers and enjoy the games!

In parting …

Alright, I better get going!

* * *

Go Saints!

Yeah, it’s amazing what a little make-up and a professional photographer can do, huh?

Mental Laxatives and Banal Lube (revisited)


These words (“mental laxatives” and “banal lube”) are two terms which I believe perfectly fit the — to use the parlance of our time — “culture of corruption”, which dominates our political system; especially here in the U.S. To be perfectly blunt, society is in DIRE NEED of both a “mental laxative” as well as some “banal lube” ! On the one hand, the extreme left has filled the minds of an entire generation with lies of such magnitude that calling it “shit” is actually a much needed moment of comic relief. There’s constipation of epic proportions, to say the least.

On the other hand … should we decide to continue to do nothing about it, we may as well lovingly grasp the proverbial pickle barrel which we have already been bent over and hope for a liberal application of the latter.

The banality of our political system is such that we have been mentally incapacitated to the point of almost absolute incoherence … and in our dazed slumber we have been bent over said pickle barrel. If you are not going to vote these fiends out of office then all I can say is that we — collectively — deserve our own 55 gallon drum of “Banal Lube.”

And remember kiddies, when it comes to being violated in such a manner …

Too much lube is almost enough.

* * *

If you agree with the above stated opinions, you might enjoy my review of president Obama’s inauguration speech.

You might be surprised to discover how blatant Mr. Obama was in warning us of the fast changes that were in store for us all.

However …

For those of you who cringe at my political leanings, please feel free to enjoy the following  …

But before we begin … is it just me, or do the that latest TV ads of Michael Phelps pimping a “munchie joint” like Subway strike you as the least bit “curious.”  I mean, yeah … of COURSE America’s newest pot-head is going to enjoy a fresh, toasty submarine sammich from Subway.

But anyhow ….

For your communist sympathizing wussies who cannot handle my political Rightness — or for those of you so masochistic that you came back to examine more of my semi-random brain droppings — I hope you enjoy my little preview (slash: aka “/”) teaser of my soon-to-be-published title:

Olympic Beer Belly Judging for Idiots

One cannot engage in Olympiad feats of beer drinking without the ensuing — dare I say, “ubiquitous” — beer belly.

Believe me, this is not an optional outcome … I am the founder, director, President and acting coach of the U.S. Olympic Beer Drinking team.

I know these things from first hand experience, okay?!

. . . so anyhow . . .

We professional beer drinkers have finally secured our rightful spot in the limelight that is the summertime Olympics. As such, it is only fitting that we begin planning now for the unavoidable eventuality that will be: The Olympic Beer Belly.

Alright, you may be wondering where this came from.

Am I wrong?

My dad and I first stumbled upon this idea while watching thousands of men pour into R.F.K. stadium for Washingotn D.C.’s first Promise Keepers rally.

We quickly realized that many of these men were quite like us: avid beer drinkers who were not ashamed of their prized afterthought of a possession: the Beer Belly.

After Pop pointed out the impressiveness of the beer bellies before us, I leaned over and asked, “Some of these men are obvious candidates for our Olympic beer drinking team, no?”

With the knowing look of an elder sage, he nodded in agreement.

It was at that moment that we began to draft the initial judging criteria.

You see … a beer belly, to be properly appreciated, must be viewed by standards greater than size alone. We finally agreed upon the following 3 elements:

1. Distance

2. Girth


3. Presentation.

* * *

Criteria One: Distance

Distance is a defining attribute of the perfect beer belly.

The distance of a beer belly is the horizontal distance as measured from the apex of said beer belly (the outer ring of the navel) to the outside skin of the spinal disk directly horizontal to the plane of said navel.

As such, a contestant with an excessively arched back will, most likely, be disqualified from entry into the games. In short, the straighter the spine, the greater overall protrusional distance.

disclaimer: while the word ‘protrusional’  does not show up in any legitimate dictionary, it  should still be adopted by the  International Olympic Committee as no other word succinctly describes the unit of measurement in question.

It is also this measurement that truly separates the fatties from the pro’s!

These are NOT beer bellies!

Quite frankly, any slob can eat and drink  him (or her) self stupid to the point of developing a rolling mound of body fat that simply hangs off the waistline of its wearer. A professional beer drinker, however, is a talented athlete and shows his pride with brilliant displays of masculinity such as a firm, properly developed and hard-earned beer belly.

Another integral aspect of distance is the overall proportion to the torso of the drinking athlete. The man pictured above, although slightly on the outside of the preferred age limits of Olympic level beer drinkers, is a model of exceptional distance.

* * *

Criteria Two: Girth

While the proud and hefty ladies pictured above certainly encompass almost any definition of girth, it is vital to remember that we are talking in terms of a sporting professional.

Girth, as implied by the name, and in most simplistic terms, is the circumference of the beer belly proper.

As is the case with Distance, Girth must also be judged on the proportion of said girth as it relates to the overall physical demeanor of the athlete him (or her) self.

It is the combination of Distance and Girth that quantifies the physical stature of a professional beer belly, however …

were it only physical dimensions that separated the Pro’s from the proverbial wanna-be “Ho’s” of the universe, it would be only these two measurements that would be of importance.

As such, it is the third criteria that fully qualifies and defines a professional, beer athlete to his (or her) fullest potential.

* * *

Presentation FAIL (asleep on the job)

Criteria Three: Presentation

Without doubt, the most significant aspect of any Olympic beer belly contestant is the matter of presentation.

As mentioned above, any slob can engage in a multi year binge of consumption and result in a belly of gargantuan proportions. However, it takes a skilled and disciplined athlete to create the perfect package.

The most significant ingredient in defining an Olympic quality beer belly is presentation.

I realize that I should have given you an example of Presentation instead of the picture shown above / to the right.

However …

We have entered a very, very subjective world whereby computer models and “textbook examples” dare not tread.

For example …

While the above pictured man surely shows promise in the way of distance, there is a still a major problem …

While the same, above pictured, example of obvious professional beer drinking prowess truly exemplifies any rational definition of girth, there is still a major problem …

An intense, undeniable lack of presentation.

Presentation, my friends, is EVERYTHING!

Take, for example, the following display of spectaculous beer belliness!

Distance: 3 (MAYBE a 4) …

Girth: 4 … ‘ish.

Presentation: 10.0 (at least)

See what I mean? Presentation makes up for a WORLD of evils!

. . .

However …

It must be said that presentation can, especially in some cases, severely backfire!

AM I WRONG?!?!?!?!


. .

. . .

. .


I thought not.

So, take your mental laxative …

Slather up a big, messy, guilt-ridden goop of banal lube …

and …

. . . always remember . . .

(until next time)

. . .


Friends, Romans, Countrymen …


Lend me your ear …

* * *

Some of you expressed a certain amount of shock — for some downright disgust — at the “soo’prize butseks” elephant photo I’d posted when last we met.

Some were brazen enough to ask, “Why?”

Such a silly question when it comes to a blog by Buck … if you’ve not learned that yet, you’re obviously new to this thing I do.

And lemme tell ya, I’ve been doing this nonsense a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnng time!

But anyhow …

Man, I am having a REALLY hard time finding “teh LULZ” today. I’m staving off an epic case of the blues, if you don’t mind me putting what might be too fine a point on it. My friends and I here in 3-D land lost a dear and cherished soul yesterday. Those of you who actually know me face-to-face can go over and read the short, albeit sincere, few words that I could muster about her this morning on my Facebook page.

But I promised myself that I would do exactly what Marge would probably expect of me … bring smiles, perchance an opportunity to laugh, to others.

So, let’s get on with it, shall we?

* * *

As it turns out, it looks like animal abuse charges are possibly being filed against me here soon.

No, I didn’t personally do anything that directly resulted in injury – physical, emotional or otherwise – to any animal, be it domesticated or any of the near countless beasts of the field otherwise.

Nossir, I’ve been given a heads up that the less than goodly people at PETA are pursuing charges for inciting unlawful unions of man and beast as a result of the aforementioned, and dare I say disturbingly humorous, pachyderm on pachyderm rectal invasion.

Ah yes, the previously mentioned “soo’prize butseks” image from our last blog.

No sooner did I publish that darned thing than some twisted, demented soul gets some flash of inspiration and dashes out to the local petting zoo …

I know what you’re thinking: Why aren’t charges being filed against THAT freak?!?!?!

Am I wrong?

Well, as it turns out, with all the bizarre twists and turns that have been unfolding in the way of “hate crimes” laws, the man pictured above — who for legal reasons shall remain unnamed — claims that he suffers some bizarre psychological disorder (and trust me, his problem is so twisted and bizarre that the disorder is impossibly hard to pronounce, no less spell) and is attempting to shift blame onto yours truly.

How messed up is THAT?

* * *

Meanwhile, on the other side of this little rock in the cosmos that we call Earth …

Before I continue, have you ever seen any of the viral internet videos from a while back where people recorded their friends reactions to the grotesque “2 girls 1 cup” video that was, quite thankfully, finally removed from internet?

Oh man, some of those were downright precious.

Anyhow, let’s not dwell here too long … that might get me in even more trouble.

However, as many of the long-time readers and lurkers of many of my web incarnations of recent decades already knows, my mantra is, “The point is to have a point!”

And my point here being: yesterday it was reported that an animal researcher (whose name and location shall also be withheld for legal reasons)  showed my last blog to one of his subjects and recorded his reaction:

Oh, the things I would do were I blessed with such a tongue!

But anyhow …

I know this is short, but I am stranded without a car have a bit of a walk ahead of me. Oh … joy!

Until next time …


Atmospheric Conditions …


In case you haven’t noticed, the weather has been anything but fun of late.

I mean , holy hell, I awoke this morning to a local news channel on the television and they were talking about freezing temperatures yet again in central and southern Florida.

Seriously, freezing there is pretty much one step from the proverbial snowflake’s chances of landing in hell.

Now … rather than find cause to snicker at Al Gore because his global warming invention is clearly having a bout of pubescent rebellion, let’s sit down, pour ourselves a pint, take a deep breath and then take a big ol’ bite of a reality sandwich, shall we?

Yeah, I went there … a reality sandwich.

Ever had to take a bite of one of those?

Do you even know what the main ingredient is in a reality sandwich?

Apart from the bread, of course. I mean, you are aware that bread is actually NOT a food group? Yeah, it’s a condiment. In fact, to many it is seen as nothing more than a decoration, but we’ll save the culinary poop slinging for another time.

I’m here to talk about WHY the weather is so particularly brutal of late.

Surely you’ve had to have noticed that this is, already, one of the coldest winters in recent memory. Just here in sulky northern Virginia we’ve had sub-freezing daytime highs and HOWLING winds for over a week now.

Overnight temperatures in Florida are dropping so low that the local iguana population are literally falling out of the trees!

Imagine a group of little girls walking to school and having THAT fall on one of their heads!

Hahahahahaha … oh my, that’d be a hoot.

But anyhow … yeah, with Igunadids being cold blooded animals, the extreme low temperatures slow their metabolism so much that they lose all coordination and simply drop out of the trees like over-ripened coconuts!

And it’s not just the U.S. that is experiencing this extreme weather. Oh no, it’s a planetary phenomenon!

Floods in Brazil …

* * *

Freakish storm clouds in Uraguay!

* * *

Quasi-apocolyptic droughts in China …

Seriously … WHAT THE DEUCE?!?!?!


* * *

So, what IS at the root of this insanely unexpected twist in atmospheric realities?

Well, I can tell ya what’s up …

Snow Cow is PISSED!

Yes, we gone and done it now, folks!

His ineffable name and his sacred image have been cast into a marketing ploy for a bunch of … [ugh], I’m not even gonna say it!!!!

Yeah, “ineffable” … his name’s really not snow cow … you know this, right? I mean, god is not God’s name either. It’s a euphemism … I have a problem with being reprimanded for “taking the lord’s name in vain” when I’ve said “god dammit!”

Go ahead, go look it up. Quite frankly, knowing specifically what the word means will help you get the smile you’re intended to get when I use phrases such as, “and let’s see if we cannot eff it after all!”

Ok, good, you’re back …

I’m not even going to give this ungrateful sub-human any recognition. I will simply state that Snow Cow is aware of what has happened and what you and I are witnessing today is the “ah hell” that is breaking loose as a result.

And now, a word from our sponsor …

I stumbled across an article this week that, shockingly, reported that men — on average — think about sex 13 times a day.

Yeah, 13 times a day – for a total of 4,745 times every year. Quite frankly, that seems a bit on the low side to me, but I’ve never really been one to pine on such details.

This particular study also went on to report that the average man actually reports having sex an average of twice a week, or 104 times a year.

Dogs must be able to read minds …

I mean, as soon as I paused to consider this unexpectedly impressive number … my dog, Sparky, shot me this crazy, raised eye-brow, “W T F” look that about made me cry from laughing so hard.

But were they really tears of laughter?

Wow, twice a week!


Sadly, I’ve been married more than once. Life’s strange that way sometimes, but thanks to the advent of relative morality and the wonders of a primarily hedonistic society, I am not alone in in this department and, therefore, feel almost as if I should feel at ease.

But anyhow … my point was that I have been on both sides of the marital divide in my adventures as rogue man-child and career prodigal. I’ve been counted amongst those who took the final step of purchasing the proverbial cow, and returned — a more experienced and jaded soul — back to the murky waters of the shamelessly unattached.

But then it occurred to me, one could take the pragmatic approach and average the number of conjugal encounters … but after enough time, twice a week still seems rather unrealistic. Granted, the Spousal Unit and I actually placed a quarter in a large jar every time we … uh … yeah … and on our first anniversary the quarter count was an impressive number. Very impressive, actually.

All the same, it occurred to me that the demographic might well be skewed towards the generation roughly half my four and one half decades.

Sparky, again reading my mind, cocked her head and shot me another one of those humorously confused looks.

So as to not awake the Spousal Unit, I whispered back, “Yeah, the younger one is, the less likely they are to score very often.”

Something foul was definitely afoot at the Circle K …

Of course, the participants in said survey very well may have been including the semi ineffable subject of the all too well known reality ofttimes referred to as being, “two partners shy of a threesome.”

The news article, towards its close, further went on to say, “Researchers also found one in three guys think a candlelit dinner is the best way of getting a woman in the mood, followed by a relaxing massage.”

Yeah, it was at this point that I knew for certain  … that twice a week number was definitely inclusive of handshakes with the little Governor!

* * *

But anyhow … what in the world were we talking about?!?!?!

Oh, yeah … Snow Cow. Sorry about that digression … I sometimes feel that I have this moral imperative from on high, some sense of responsibility to share with those I love the things I learn from the news and/or The Discovery Channel. That’s the reason I stopped to have that little word about the study showing that men think about sex almost 5,000 times a year.

Again, is it just me or does that number seem REALLY LOW???

What prompted that was another article that documented the published the results of a long term (over 16 years) study. The study showed that men who had sex at least twice a week cut their chance of heart disease IN HALF!

Did you catch that? Cut the chances of a heart attack in half!

Sex has long been regarded as good for physical and mental health. Until now there has been little scientific research into what benefits, if any, that frequent intercourse might have on major illnesses such as heart disease. Scientists at the New England Research Institute in Massachusetts, tracked the sexual activity of men aged between 40 and 70 who were taking part in a long-term project which began back in 1987.

So, there you have it. Men who have sex (with a partner, mind you) twice a week or more stand 45% less of a chance of suffering a heart attack than their less fortunate counterparts.

And what is the lesson to be gleaned from all of this?

Women are obviously out to kill us.

But I digress …

Wow, I’ve run out of time once again. Daggonit … I think it’s vital that I reveal the identity of Snow Cow. Our world is at risk and anarchy is right around the corner!


Those of you that have been around my blogs for almost any length of time surely have picked up on my loathing of Green Peace. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE our planet, and I am a big believer that we have a morally bound duty to be good stewards of this beautiful home we’ve been given.

But anyhow …

Green Peace … nothing but a bunch of idiots and hippies (both of the aged and neo-wanna-be types) who are being led and funded by a bunch of communist subvertists …

Stay on point, Buck … stay on point!

Those minions of satan were recently donated a near priceless tri-maran to help them hunt down Japanese “research vessels” …

Seriously, that is just nuts, is it not???

That donation was in late 2009 … mere weeks ago, actually.

So, the folks at Green Peace, now feeling invincible with their aquatic Batmobile, storm off onto the high seas in search of … dun,dun,DUUNNNNNN … fishing vessels.

Of course, leave it to a Green Peacer to not even stop to consider the fact that when you try to intimidate a Japanese fishing vessel, it’s probably a pretty safe bet that the captain of said vessel is gonna be … wait for it … Japanese!

And you know where Japanese men come from, right?

Yeah, Japan … and what is Japan famous for?

Yeah … Ninjas.

And those aren’t even specially trained, card-carrying, registered weapons of death Ninjas, those are just a group of freaking Japanese FIREFIGHTERS!

Dude, if it comes from Japan it may as well have a sticker on it that reads:
(you’ll want to imagine the Intel logo for this one)


* * *

So, anyhow, yeah … some mental midget from Green Peace decides he’s going to take on a Japanese fishing vessel (again, obviously manned by a ninja) in a game of high seas chicken.

as one of the Spousal Unit’s best friends would say:


* * *

Well, hell … now I HAVE run out of time.

Make no doubt about it. Snow Cow is pissed and I dare say he ain’t done with his reign of terror.

I promise to talk more about Snow Cow and what we can do to quiet his angry soul.

He’s actually a rather kind soul, but he’s a jealous snow cow and does not like his likeness being used for something so unthinkable and lowly.

Until then, my dear reader …


Rolling Over (again) …


Well, here we are on the cusp of another one of those, “Out with the old, in with the new” end of the year moments. Like many other people, I’m looking forward to having a new set of digits slapped up on the calendar.

Seriously!  I started this year (2009) all charged up and ready for the wonders that it may bring, and then …

Yeah … surprised, disappointed, and heart-broken indeed …

Although … just amongst my own circle of friends there are those who have lost a LOT more than I did this year …

Sure, in the midst of the great memories I made with my sons and certain others of my friends and family members, there’s a lot about 2009 that I shan’t fondly look back upon.  Losing my entire Koi population and the meltdown of the waterfall, as two examples, were only the beginning of my sorrows. And sure, there were bigger losses that really chap my ass for reasons that would do none of us any good for me to elaborate upon.

So … we should probably just be moving along then, shouldn’t we?

In the grand scheme of things, there are VERY few of us that cannot echo the sentiment, “Worse things have happened to better people.

Feel free to tuck that one away in your heart; it may come in quite handy some day.

* * *

Made your new year resolutions yet?

Want my opinion on the matter?

Of course you do … that’s why you’re here!

My opinion would be to NOT make any New Years resolutions.

Face it, it’s a stupid tradition developed to help stupid people cope with their innate disinclination to change.

Those that can’t merely wish … the rest of us simply DO.  Sure, plans are good … VERY good, in fact. But arbitrary “resolutions” made because it’s expected of one to do so? Might as well stand in the middle of a busy mall scratching your crotch with one hand while trying to lick the elbow of your other arm … all while humming the theme music from Patton as loudly as possible.

Hold on … that’d actually be pretty damned funny!

Buuuuut … if you’re so inclined to be weak-minded and feel obligated to make your resolution(s), just know that others WILL laugh at your failure. Sorry, but that’s part of life. Live with it and move on already.

* * *

So, what can be said about 2009 that you’re not going to be otherwise inundated with by other sources? I mean, EVERYBODY in the media is going to surely have their wagging tongue moments where they blather on about the monumentally historic nature of America electing her first partially non-Caucasian president.

Of course, these same charmed, deluded news anchors will never look back later in life and realize that Obama was pretty much the equivalent of having ordered an expensive new blow-up “bride.”

It might be a little exciting at first, but when all is said and done, it’s nothing more than an empty shell that’s going to leave one severely chaffed.

Did I say CHAFFED?!?!?!?!

That’s way too soft a word … nossir, what this administration is going to leave us with is going to be a bit more intense than a mere burning sensation …

Speaking of which (the blow-up doll part, that is), did any of you ever catch any episodes of HBO’s WAY-TOO-SHORT-LIVED show, “Hard Core TV” (HCTV) ???

In a tip of the hat to Saturday Night Live, HBO put together a group of writers who, in my estimation, knocked the proverbial ball right out of the park.

There is, of course, a reason I mention this …

One particular skit was a parody of a Biography Channel style  interview which featured a man who had forsaken women in lieu of blow up dolls. During the course of the interview, the man spent considerable time fawning over his one favorite blow up doll, whose name I cannot remember.

All the same, the interviewer wrapped up the segment by posing the following question, “It’s clear that this doll truly your favorite. Tell me, where do you see yourself with this relationship in … say … 10 years?”

The man pondered the matter a few moments and after a dramatic pause he finally offered his straight-faced answer of, “Well … happy … but chaffed.”

* * *

Never let it be said that 2009 was not an interesting year. Oh no, not by any stretch!

Soros and Rockefeller are probably a little pissed. Heck, the near-collapse of the financial markets that they engineered almost delivered the U.S. into their grubby, Marxist hands.

But I promised I’d avoid politics, dammit … sorry.

* * *

Let’s see, what is there to look back upon … IN A POSITIVE LIGHT … ???

Well, let’s just jump upon our trusted steed and travel back in time … (just one year, nothing big) …

* * *


Let’s see … we had at least a few new species of animals discovered this year. Amongst my favorite was this little gem …

Species: Psychedelia … seriously, that’s the name! It’s a type of “frog-fish” that was discovered off the shores of Indonesia

* * *

While on the subject of fish, scientists in Asia have discovered what is being called a “human-faced” carp …

More of a dog’s face than a human’s face, but hey … it’s different!

* * *

Speaking of carp/koi … there were reports of an aquatic toad that was in heat and got a little confused about which species he was supposed to mate with …

According to reports, the toad literally screwed the fish to DEATH!

* * *

Speaking of sexually super-charged animals, I’d like you to meet Elvis, the insanely randy cock!

As it turns out, Elvis there had such an out of control libido that he finally had to be exiled from the hen-house. He LITERALLY screwed the hens to DEATH.

I have 2 questions …

1) Who snagged a sample of my DNA?

2) Was a rooster the most creative thing they could do with it?

(on a side note, does that woman’s grin strike you as at all … strange?)

Yeah, it sort of troubled me too … … …

And the rooster? Look at him! “I am the Sperminator … I’ll be back!”

* * *

Let’s see … we also saw a six legged cow …

whoa … that’s just freaky!

BUUUUUUT … not as freaky as Two-Face the calf!

Makes me wonder if the same cretins who warped my DNA into a rooster have been having fun with Snow Cow’s DNA as well …

Even so, it would appear nothing of the sort is going to thwart the amazingly Mother Teresa-esque qualities of our mysterious friend who has been widely known to have a passion for feeding the poor …

* * *

But we’ll have to save talk of Snow Cow for another time … (not to mention the fact that Snow Cow is actually a bull, but things just get way too confusing way too quickly, so let’s just keep moving along, shall we?)

* * *

What else is there to look back and smile upon when we look at 2009?

* * *


The year of our Lord, 2009 — for all of its pomp and circumstance — was not a boring one for the inventors of the world either!

In Japan, we saw all manner of robots appearing at trade shows everywhere … to include the adult entertainment industry. Seeings how my younger two sons are like to swing by this blog, I have chosen to not publish pictures of such. Sadly, you’re just gonna have to take my word for it.


We DID see the introduction of gems such as …

Yeah, see-thru cement.

Now, why anybody ever conceived of a need for translucent concrete is absolutely beyond me, but in flash of true Hungarian ingenuity, some wild-eyed Magyar kinsman of mine decided the world needed such a thing.

I dunno, maybe it was simply a matter of an inventor who wound up with one of those “Butter Face” girlfriends.

Who knows?

* * *

Let’s see, what else did 2009 bring us in the way of inventions?

AH HA! I have one …

Ever heard of Kenji Kawakami, the founder and director of the International Chindogu Society?

In fact, I hadn’t heard of him either until a couple of years ago. Back then my blogs (and other assorted brain droppings) were being served up (spicy hot, of course) at MySpace.com, and in the midst of doing some research for a year-end blog I was lucky enough to have stumbled across this man and his “society.”

Of course, if you’re at all like me, you may be sitting there thinking, “Chindogu … what the ____ is that???”

Since you’re probably on the verge of opening another browser window and heading over to Wikipedia yourself, let’s just see what the wiki has to say about Chindogu

Chindōgu … is the Japanese art of inventing ingenious everyday gadgets that, on the face of it, seem like an ideal solution to a particular problem. However, chindōgu has a distinctive feature: anyone actually attempting to use one of these inventions would find that it causes so many new problems, or such significant social embarrassment, that effectively it has no utility whatsoever.


Let’s take a look at some of Mr. Kawakami’s latest masterpieces!

Are you as big of a wuss as I am when it comes to eye drops?

Imagine the lust that will consume your friends when they see THAT device!!!

. . .  remember: a vital aspect of this fine Japanese “art”  involves significant “social embarrassment” . . .

I will say, for all his strangeness, it seems that Mr. Kawakami and I have some similar problems in life. Not only do we both share an aversion to eye drops, it seems that both of us suffer from hayfever AND a compulsion to constantly hit the snooze button in the mornings …

The snooze button on the alarm clock? …

Altho … it does sort o make you wonder if that guy’s been spending a little too much time with Jenji Kohan, huh?

* * *

Now, while the inventor of the following piece is NOT a member of Mr. Kawakami’s illustrious society, he probably SHOULD be …

I forget the guy’s name, but here’s the skinny: he’s a full out geek computer programmer who lost his finger in a motorcycle accident last year. He has since designed (and actually wears) a prosthetic finger which is equipped with a — you probably guessed already — a fully functioning flash drive.

Not quite a “thumb” drive, but …

(sorry, that was really corny)

* * *

Again, not from the slippery mind of a practitioner of Chindogu, but from the mind of a Japanese inventor all the same, allow me to present to you the Bow’lingual Translator …

Yeah … it (allegedly) translates Fido’s barks, growls and other vocalizations. Those folks need to hook up with that whole Chindogu thing.

Ya know … if you play around with it a little bit, you could probably modify that thing to into a device that will translate the latest bullshit from the White House. We could call it the Bowel’ingual Translator!

* * *

Moving along …

One final invention of 2009 that TOTALLY grabbed my attention was the PediSedate!

Look at those eyes, will ya?!?!?!? LOOK AT ‘EM!


To say that this little girl is happy is an understatement of monumental proportions! Hell, “stoned” would be an understatement …

You see, the goofy, purple device upon her head is the coveted PediSedate.

And what, you may ask, is a “PediSedate”?

Well, it is the most brilliant brainchild of an AMERICAN inventor! Allow me to allow his P.R. people to introduce this … this … MOST ingenious device:

PediSedate is a medical device consisting of a colorful, toy-like headset that connects to a game component such as the  Nintendo Game Boy system or a portable CD player. Once the child places it on his or her head and swings the snorkel down from its resting place atop the head, PediSedate transparently monitors respiratory function and distributes nitrous oxide.

Yeah, you read that right … NITROUS OXIDE!

Dudes, come ON … a Whippet delivery system that integrates with your stereo?!?!?!

GET OUTA HERE!!!!!!!!!! That’s …


It’s actually a pediatric device to help get children a little looped up before minor procedures that don’t warrant full anesthesia.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever … you KNOW you want one of those for recreational use too!!!!

* * *

The Fashion Industry!

Yes, it was a BUSY year for the fashion industry too, sports fans.

The wonderful people at Swarovski brought us the Bling-kini …

Not bad, not bad …

The fashion industry also saw the introduction of … I don’t EVEN know what to call this, but it’s (allegedly) the latest fad in jeans …

Uh … yeah … winking jeans. [twitch] …

I don’t know about you, but if I want a butt winking back at me, there’s a lot of other … well … I dunno … I’ll just leave that alone for now.

In an effort to maintain some modicum of continuity, let’s stick with jeans for a moment, shall we?

Now … you know that when a man spies a female body that is to his particular liking, and the object of his eye’s affections happens to be wearing a perfectly fit pair of jeans, a question that often accompanies that brief moment in time is whether she’s the type of girl that wears a thong.

Well, once again, thanks to our friends in Japan, our women-folk no longer have to be overly coy …

Of course, those are really only cool when it’s a gal OTHER than your daughter wearing them.

You really don’t want me to “go there” with that subject. Let’s simply say that when it comes to raising girls, my parenting skills probably makes Ghengis Khan or hardline Islamic men pale in comparison.

Anyhow … since the Spousal Unit HAS been known to occasionally sneak through this place, I should probably refrain from any further discussion on this matter unless I want to risk something like THIS:


All the same, those jeans really are smokin’ hot!

* * *

THE FUTURE! What’s in store for 2010?

Let’s take a few minutes on our magic puppy ride and travel a little into the future, shall we?

The 2010 calendars showing up at the mall and local bookstores everywhere portend to a year of old-fashioned goodness and more!


Really, I meant that “seriously” part … here’s February:

Utah, huh?

. . .

But, if wholesome Mormon girls aren’t really your thing, 2010 is also ushering in an era of other interesting calendars …

Zombies, anyone?

J’yup, that’s a real image taken from a real calendar!

.  .  .

If zombies are a little too messy, how about coffins?

W … T … F … ????

* * *

Now THERE’s an “undertaker” for ya!!!!

* * *


How ’bout the Swiss Miss 2010 calendar!

Look at the grin on the goat on the left! I’d be all steamed-up too!!!!

There’s also the “Foxy Hunters 2010″ calendar!

* * *

* * *

Wow, looks like I’m running out of time …

Since Chumly is not likely to take time out of his busy schedule to blog here any time soon, allow me to pass along to you a joke that he passed along to me today …

OK, so you’re out hunting .  . .

it’s the beginning of the rut, bucks and does are running around like they have no brain whatsoever,

you know your buddy is in the next blind over and you’re both hoping to get a deer on opening weekend,

all of a sudden you look out to your left and see this …

The question is …

under the new Fish, Game and Wildlife statewide regulations what are you supposed to do?

Do you shoot the one with the bigger rack . . . or the gay one?

* * *

* * *

Well, there’s a better than average possibility that this will be my last blog posting for 2009. Turns out that I’ll be turning over a few new leaves this next year … some of them not being entirely my own doing, but anyhow … since this is my final sign off for the year, I guess we can indulge one last moment of selfish indulgence …


(Ha! I bet you thought I was going to have one parting “peace off, fuckers!”, didn’t ya?)

Updates … n’ stuff


Wow, what a weekend. I’d love to say that it was magic-filled and all of that other good, happiness stuff … but it wasn’t.

I shan’t, however, bore you with the occasion visitations of my own little personal hell.

What I WILL do, though … it try and toss a few laughs your way.

There are some new posts over at my Politico blog. If you have any appreciation whatsoever for Australians and/or their humor, head on over!

However, for those of you who refuse to put up with my political/social commentary and the occasional rant, here’s your own little moment of Zen … just so the visit here doesn’t seem like a total waste of time.

I think more than a few of us can relate … (give it a few minutes, you’ll see)

Until next time …


(and beware the snow cow!)

Missing: Snow Cow!


Well, if you live in the mid-Atlantic, we had quite the weekend, did we not???

Granted, our friends from the hinterlands (Canadia, Wisconsin, et al) wouldn’t consider 21″ of accumulated snow to be all that problematic, BUT …


Shifting the weight … grabbin’ some traction!

You need to understand that the Virginia Dept. of Transportation recruits their snow removal employees from the ranks of Wal-Mart greeters.

If you live in a part of the world where there is no such thing as Wal-Mart then … well, how do I put this delicately? …

I was going to place an image here, but it began to occur to me that such might be a little over the top so let’s just wrap this up with a quick word picture instead.

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.

That said,  suffice it to say that the roadways around here are still in pretty rough shape. I HOPE to be able to get the old Buck’mobile back into the neighborhood before Christmas.

~ ~ ~

So, beyond the “Great Christmas Blizzard of ’09” what else happened in the world this weekend?

Well, for starters, it appears that the authorities in the UK are on hunt for this man …


Uh, yeah … it IS what it appears to be. A man secretly stalked a female employee who, I assume, was … shall we say … more than mildly odoriferous. I mean, maybe there was a little early mornin’ lovin’ and not enough time for a shower, who knows … but to have a strange man stalk about, pretending to be looking at prices and/or ingredients whilst she stocks shelves.

Full article here.

More than a lil’ creepy, huh?

I mean, at least this guy’s not being sneaky about it!


~ ~ ~

What else?

Oh, holy crap … did you catch THIS one?

The executive director of Greenpeace, held up a document and proclaimed: “This is the single most important piece of paper in the world today!”

What was that single “most important piece of paper” in the world … today?

An alarmist UN “press release” intended to create a sense of panic and immediacy. It’s really starting to piss me off the way the UN and the current Administration here in the U.S. are so fixated on forcing things into place, regardless of the consequences.

But that’s another blog for one of my other blog pages …

~ ~ ~

Amy Winehouse strikes again!


The U.K.’s own progeny of Israelite met a camel and procreated decided to visit a local theater in Milton Keynes, Bucks. That’s somewhere in the U.K. … I just thought it was sort of nifty that it carried my name! :o)

Anyhow … for reasons that continue to baffle me, the iconic Back to Black singer, went to a local production of the play Cinderella. One could probably be rather safe in assuming that she was more than mildly under the influence.

How could one be so judgmental?

Imagine the shock and horror of the children and parents in attendance (allegedly) heard Miss Winehouse blurting out things like, “He’s right f*@&ing behind you!”

Better still, how about this line: “Fuck Cinders, Prince Charming, marry me!”

While being confronted by theater staff, she also allegedly yelled out to the Ugly Sisters, calling them, “bitches!”

Simon Cowell seems downright congenial by comparison, huh?

~ ~ ~

Onto matters upon my own shores …


Seems the Obama administration continued with their frenzied push of an arbitrary deadline for this so-called “health care reform” bill of theirs. God damn, that one really pisses me off … mostly because they’ve NOT ALLOWED hardly anybody access to the now more than 2,000 pages. How the hell is ANYONE supposed to vote on something they know nothing about …

Well, okay … I think that’s the status quo on Capitol Hill, but anyhow …

~ ~ ~

Here’s one that caught me mildly off guard. Do you know what one of the most common “injuries” are handled in emergency rooms during the Christmas season (apart from oven burns and people who choke on food) ? ? ?

People whose eyeballs are dried out as a result of sleeping with eyes open after excess alcohol consumption.

Don’t get me wrong here. I mean, I’ve had my periods of life where calling me an Olympic caliber beer drinking was an understatement in itself, but I do not recall ever getting so passed-out smashed that I slept with my eyes open.

Wow …

~ ~ ~

Ah, I forgot to congratulate the Dallas Cowboys for being the first team to come our ahead of the heretofore undefeated New Orleans Saints. I tried watching the game, but I was “secretly” hoping the Saints would win, but if not, I’d at least hoped for a close game.

Neither turned out to be the case, but at least we got a little treat or two along the way …


Well, sports fans, speaking of said Spousal Unit, she should be here any minute now to alight me from my wonderful place of employment and off into the wild, cold yonder. Hopefully I’ll ultimately find myself before a Golden Tee machine before the afternoon is through.

Oh, for those of you who’ve not been bored to stitches with my Golden Tee great shot moments over on Facebook, here’s a line-up of some of my nicest shots of the year.

I hope to post another blog or two before the holiday weekend arrives.

Until next we see each other again … remember …




Put on your boots, sports fans


Strange days, indeed.

Here we are in the midst of some serious Global Warm . . . uh . . . ya know, now that I think about … when I was kid in grade school — back in sunny old southern California — our teachers, mostly a mellow-yellow lot of Woodstock victims still in recovery, used to get us all freaked out about the coming Ice Age.

Quite likely even in our lifetime!

And the more I start thinking about it, it occurs to me that this was right about the time where Al Gore says he created the Internet.

“Hmmm,” says one little corner of my mind to another (who’s label shall remain withheld), “this is most curious, is it not?”

The Ineffable corner replies, “Indeed, sire, it is . . . it is most curious, indeed!”

Fast forward through the bizarre decade or so that unfolded . . .

And man, did Billy Joel nail that one right with that video? The 70’s nad 80’s were a really intense blur.

Then again, maybe it was Utah …

So anyhow …

In the midst of that veritable whirlwind that was the aforementioned decades, something strange happened.

The U.N. — outspoken critics of nationalism and far much more, schemed up an idea whereby the evil Capitalists might some day be coerced to relinquish their wealth.

Carbon tax … oh, wait, hold on … tax is such an ugly word. Let’s label it …


But let’s save a more in-depth pursuit of such things for my “serious” blog around the corner from here.

What I want to blather about this afternoon is just some of what’s been factually going on in regards to this whole matter of … I mean, what IS the euphemism du jour for Global Warming? I mean, the flippant use of the term, “climate change” is laughable enough. Of COURSE climate change is occurring, dummy! It does that, all day, every day of every week of every month of every single stinking year that has ever been or ever will be to come!

Climate Changes!

Wow, what a heady concept.

I mean, what on Earth could have caused those previous ice ages? Seriously, glaciers have clearly expanded and retreated repeatedly over the ages, have they not?

Oh, yeah … they have!

Let’s not get conflicted with petty little matters such as the fact that our dear “mother Gaia” belches and farts the most toxic gasses imaginable into the atmosphere on a regular basis.

~ ~ ~

OH MAN!!!! I wish I’d had my camera with me just now. I let my little Jack Russell terrier, Sparky, out to pee … and she pranced across the deck and leapt off onto where the lawn usually is. I leaned over to see her, as she’d disappeared, and all there was waws this little black set of nostrils peering back, snorting.

It was straight up like the infamous scene from Scarface!!!!


~ ~ ~

But anyhow, since this isn’t the serious blog page and it is not my intent to wax acidic, let’s just take see if there’s some humor or irony to be found in this strange twist of “unquestionable” global cooling theory cum “unquestionable man-made global warming” theory.

I mean, the headline shot round the world today was, “UN hails climate deal as ‘essential beginning’!”

So anyhow …

You heard that the Pope of the church of Anthropogenic Global Warming spoke to the masses at COP15 in Copenhagen this week, right?

Yesss, he did!


And don’t go getting all angry with me about the spiritual references. Al HIMSELF proclaimed,

“This is not a political issue, or a scientific issue or a psychological issue … it’s a moral issue. If anything it’s actually a spiritual issue.”

But anyhow … faux-Pope Gore claimed that new computer modelling suggests there is a 75 per cent chance of the entire polar ice cap melting during the summertime by 2014.

Yeah, seriously … a SEVENTY FIVE percent chance that the polar ice caps will MELT by the summer of 2014.

Actually, we should first let Al speak for himself:

“These figures are fresh, I just got them yesterday.

“Some of the models suggest to Dr. Maslowski that there is a 75 per cent chance that the entire polar ice cap during some of summer months could be completely ice free within five to seven years.”

The crowd gasped in shock!

Al continued with a plea …

“There are more than a billion people on the planet who get more than half of their drinking water – many of them all of their drinking water – from the seasonal melting of snow melt and glacier ice.”

Wow … did that remind you the least bit of THIS precious moment?

I mean, seriously … that was right up there with the Brooks Shields epiphany that, “and if you’re killed, you’ve lost a really important part of your life!”


So there’s Al, giving us the fresh scoop — the inside dope as it were — that some of these models suggest to Dr. Maslowski that the polar ice caps could be gone in a mere few years!

Dr. Maslowski, however, really took one heck of a piss on the coals of Al’s marshmallow roast when he immediately announced that he had no clue what Al was talking about nor could he even imagine at how such a conclusion could have been reached.

OOPS! I did it again!


. . .

Well, sports fans, the phone just rang and it’s time for this ol’ Buck to make himself all pretty and prepare to enjoy some of this beaitful snowy weather with the lovely and overly happy Spousal Unit. She lights up about this sort of weather even more than I do!

So, until the next time that we cross paths and attempt to make one or the other smile, laugh, chuckle or stutter …



Knee Grow … PLEASE!


No, I don’t like big, nasty, knobby knees … the title is yet another of my feeble attempts to curtail my cursing. It’s another … shall we say … Faux Curse!

I mean, let’s face it … for some of us, the not entirely uncommon phrase, “Nigga, PLEASE!” really has a place, but … us “Crackaz” really aren’t allowed to go there.

But let’s just get moving along and take a quick look at some of the strange happenings in the world this week that MIGHT cause one to utter such a phrase … if one was rightfully allowed to do so.

. . .

Exhibit One: Black Out surprise!

A university student in China went and got himself more than thoroughly inebriated last weekend.

I know, since when did college students start engaging in “binge drinking”, right???

All the same, when he awoke the next morning, still feeling entirely less than perfectly sober, he was suffering from sharp, stabbing pains in his lower abdomen. As the day progressed the pain did not subside. Ultimately, the young man made his way to the Hunan Hangtian Hospital whereupon he was finally taken for an x-ray.

Whereupon the attending x-ray technician and physician, Dr. Wei Lung Zhi, were confronted with something that I can only imagine seemed (at the very least) patently bizarre.


Embedded deep within the poor boy’s rectal cavity was the remote control for his television.

Ya know, I’ve done some things to people who were dumb enough to pass out in my presence. I mean, in the world I come from, that’s really high on the “party foul” scale. But not once, ever, in my history of ebrius maximus pranks, have I ever considered doing something this … wrong!

The attending physician was later quoted as saying, “He will be fine in time but the remote was a write-off.”

. . .

Exhibit Two: Mondo-Bizarro Christmas Gifts

This really isn’t a single exhibit, it’s more of a series. All the same, walk with me (in the virtual sense, of course) as we explore some of the downright useless and strange gifts being offered this year!

First we have …


Uh …. yeah, okay. You know the world has GOT to coming to end soon when mankind has reached THIS level of unashamed laziness!

. . .

Next we have am alarm clock that is, curiously enough, name the “Wake n Bake.” As I’m sure you’ll quickly realize, this is NOT what I had in mind when I saw *that* name …

wake-n-bakeEarly morning munchies anyone???

. . .

What do you get for the married women who has everything … including a spouse she absolutely detests?


I’m willing to bet this would be a BIG hit with the Spousal Unit! If this shows up under the Christmas tree this year, I’m putting a deadbolt on my bedroom door that can only be unlocked from the inside! (uh, yeah … different rooms … :o\ … )

.  .  .

This next one, however … is simply PRICELESS!


.  .  .

Well, sports fans, that’s about all I have time for today. Since this was a blog that was exceptionally short on text / knowledge / informification / pearls of wisdom, I offer you — my dear and cherished reader — the following Discovery moment.

Please … take a few brief moments from your day and click now.


. . .

Until next time …

. . .



Involuntary Releases of Artistic Ignorance …


Have you seen any of the recent “brain fart” commercial from kgb?

Check it out if you haven’t …

That one absolutely cracked me up … if for no other reason than I grew up hearing that term quite regularly (my dad often made a gallant effort at covering for my stupidity when Mom saw it for what it really was, “Naw, honey … the boy just had a brain fart, that’s all”).

Anyhow … I was actually trying to go somewhere with this thought …

Ah, yes … Global Warming, that was it … (I know, I know … the latest, PC euphemism is “climate change”)

Here recently, the Royal Academy (in the U.K.) opened a new display entitled, “Earth: Art of a Changing World.” The show is themed around global warming and the feature artist is Tracey Emin, age 46, pictured below with some of her recent work:


She looks overjoyed, does she not? I only wish I knew what was handwritten below those cheesy looking birds! (btw: is anyone even proud of the fact that I actually looked beyond the boobs and even noticed the penciled writing? Granted, my initial thought was, “does that say, ‘now go throw your semen at any one’ … ???”)

But anyhow …

So, what REALLY crossed my mind was, why was the lovely Tracey Emin chosen as the featured artist? As fate would have it, I stumbled across an explanation in her own words mere moments later …

I’m not a good person. I’m a bad advert. I take too many planes… I keep my heating on all day and night because I get really cold and I’m scared of the dark so I sleep with the light on”

I see … it all makes perfect sense now. (if you were here with me now, you’d surely notice my left eyelid twitching … albeit mildly, but twitching all the same)

. . .

. . .

The lovely miss Emin is not the only artist on display … also included are works by the likes of Antony Gormley …


And yes, I’m crapping you negative … the display, entitled, “Amazonian Field”, is comprised of nothing more than hundreds upon hundreds of retarded looking clay figures that fill a more-than-modest sized room.

Ya know, I could sum up this whole matter of Global Warming AND modern “art” with the following masterpiece:


(yes, that IS a massive pile of cow patties … or, in the common vernacular, a GIANT PILE OF BULL SHIT!)

And yes, I also realize that the terms “cow” and “bull” are not entirely interchangeable. This is doubly true when it comes to the matter of milking …


. . .

I hope you’ve been enjoying the recent entries from Buck’s World’s newest resident alien, Nuthin. I’ve known our flack jacketed super-hero at a distance for … well, it’s been a few years now, I suppose … and, for whatever reason, it wasn’t until I made the break from MySpace that he and finally hit it off.

And yes, there’s a reason I mention him … in fact, I would like to think that I rarely blather without a purpose. In fact, one of my most over-used lines over the years when I’ve hosted various interactive type forums was, “The point here is to have a point.” My good friend Emma might remember that line being used when we hosted a show on the MPlayer network. People that were being moronic, or just being otherwise pointless, would hear parting words, “Hey, @$$hole, the point here is to HAVE A POINT!”

At which point the room moderator (aka: the acting Evil Overlord) would drop the gavel and terminate that person’s connection to our audio “chat room.”

Good times! … Good times, indeed.

But anyhow …

My buddy, Nuthin, in a moment of “ebrius prudentia” closed his last blog post with:

Epilepsy-Seize The Day

Which, yet again, caused me to drift back to days gone by.

Any of you remember the Little Caesars pizza joints?


There was cute little cartoon dude in the Roman get-up that’d blurt out, “PIZZA! PIZZA!” at the end of the commercials?

Well … years ago, I was having one of my little “twitch moments” … a phenomenon that the Spousal Unit applies the euphemism “inner chill” when she has one … whilst watching that same commercial … and I was, at once, smitten with the idea for my OWN little chain of pizza and sandwich shops!

little-seizures-logo. . .

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut anyhow …

. . .

Since twitching and seizures seems to have become the theme du jour …

Have you heard about the performance artist / actress in the U.K. who willingly went off of her epilepsy meds a little under a month ago? Yeah, seriously … she’s grown rather appalled at the “rubber necking” mentality and the — as she refers to it — “voyeuristic nature” of people who Google or YouTube epileptic seizures.




Sorry, sorry … wrong picture. This is about epileptics, seizures and all of that other good, fun stuff … not camel toes and buxomality …

This part of the story is about Rita Marcalo …

epileptic_1526901c(wow, talk about going from one extreme to another …)

Here’s the deal … Rita Marcalo (said performance artist / dancer / actress) has stopped taking her epilepsy medication for the express purpose of a production she has loving titled … wait for it ..


Involuntary Dances.

Yup, once again, I am crappin’ you negative!

She claims she is doing this to “raise awareness of the condition.”

She will use strobe lighting, fasting and raising her body temperature to try and bring about a seizure. People are invited to film her at the theatre in the U.K. where she will be … uh … “performing” these involuntary dances.

Miss Marcalo was quoted as saying:

“One of the reasons I am doing this is because epilepsy is an invisible disability. As an artist I am very interested in this idea of doing something in my art that is the opposite of what I do in my life. In my own life it is private but in art I make it public.

“If you Google or YouTube `epileptic seizures’ you come up with all kinds of mobile phone footage which has been filmed without the patients’ consent. Part of me doing this is to address the voyeurism. I am saying, I am choosing to let you do this.”

The audience, restricted to people over the age of 18, will be provided with sleeping bags and breakfast and — get this — will be woken by a siren the moment she suffers a seizure so they can record it on their mobile phones.

Oh, and did I mention that she this “performance art” is being funded by a $23,000 grant?

And I can’t get research funding to drink beer and burp my worm???

Wow …

. . .

And finally … in recognition the hard work that the modern day school system invests in blowing smoke into orifices where smoke simply does not belong … check out this little gem that was sent to the parents of students of a Bacalava, Ontario school’s the 7th grade science class:

Dear parent/Guardians,

The Grade 7 Science classes are nearing the completion for the unit Pure Substances and Mixtures. In this unit, students have been introduced to the Particle Theory of Matter, and to some of the terminology related to the field of chemistry. They have also been given the opportunity to explore, and conduct experiments related to the properties of solutions and mechanical mixtures.

At this time all students are encouraged to discuss with you the content and expectations of the culminating task along with how it will be assessed. This culminating task allows students to demonstrate the knowledge and skills that he/she has learned throughout the module. Although students are responsible to independently complete this task, we would very much appreciate your assistance for the experimenting component, as students require access to a kitchen and some ingredients to develop their own mixture.

Thank you in advance for your interest and co-operation.

Translation: The children were making cupcakes at home as their “science project.”

. . .

Which brings us right back to where we started: Brain Farts and bull shit …

. . .

Until next time, sports fans …

Wait: speaking of bull shit, I’d like you to SERIOUSLY reconsider all the shit we’ve been force fed about this so-called “man made climate change” … remember the crap about how HUMANS are somehow pushing polar bears to the brink of extinction? As it turns out, that too was total and complete bovine excrement as well. Most populations are growing … and those that aren’t are currently engaged in brutal acts of cannibalism!

Don’t believe me?

Well, in that case …



Banal Lube


I realize this goofy pun of a title doesn’t pronounce quite right, but that, too, can be a wonderful part of the written word; visually, the double-entendre still works, if only for a brief moment.

But anyhow …

Today’s little forray into the strange and scarely explored land of common sense is brought to you by the letter “O” …

But we’ll get back to that in a little while …

What the hell happened to the world while I was away for a few days with my sons?

We now have terrorists who were transferred from Guantanamo Bay to enjoy their “constitutional right” of facing their accuser in a court of law in New York City. Meanwhile, we have three Navy SEAL’s being arraigned the week after next for allegedly “abusing” a terrorist they captured back in September.

The captured terrorist was Ahmed Hashim Abed, the mastermind behind the ambush of four Blackwater employees in Iraq in 2004 who were transporting supplies for a catering company when they were ambushed and killed. Their bodies were subsequently burned and then dragged through the city of Fallujah. Two of the bodies were finally hung on a bridge over the Euphrates River.


Here’s the real kicker: the detainee was originally turned over to Iraqi authorities, to whom Abed filed the abuse complaints. He was later returned to American custody. Something tells me the Iraqi authorities sort of expected this “problem” to simply go away, but noooooooo … terrorists have rights too, dontcha know?

The complaint filed claims that while being apprehended, Abed was punched in the stomach and also had a bloodied lip.

I’m crapping you negative.

W … T … F ?!?!?!?!?!?!

Global War … er, I mean, Climate Change, Update …

After years of being bullied and silenced by the forces of political correctness, more and more prominent scientists are standing up and exposing the hoax that is global warming.

Before I blather into my next diatribe, there IS something I want you to carry away from this short segment:

Polar core samples have unequivocally proven that carbon dioxide levels FOLLOW periods of global warming rather than precede them.

ANYHOW … the “Greenies” are, much like their icon Al Gore, not the type to allow little annoyances such as the facts to get in the way. According to Lachezar Filipov, deputy director of the Space Research Institute of the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences, Bulgarian government scientists have been in contact with extra-terrestrial aliens.  He claims that the aliens are currently in the process of answering 30 different questions that have been posed to them.

In fact, these researchers are currently analyzing 150 crop circles from around the world, which they believe are attempts by said aliens to answer said 30 questions.

Mr. Filipov told Bulgarian media, “Aliens are currently all around us, and are watching us all the time.”


Great, as if Santa weren’t bad enough, we got some creepy-ass aliens watching us all the time too????

Filipov blathered on, “They are not hostile towards us, rather, they want to help us but we have not grown enough in order to establish direct contact with them.”

Haven’t grown enough? Do tell, Mr. Filipov, whatsoever do you mean?

According to Mr. Filipov, the extraterrestrials are critical of humanity’s “interference in nature’s processes.”

Really now?!??! [insert Sam Kinison-like chuckle here]

Are you even believing this shit?

On the lighter side …


The moron pictured above (no, not the bear) decided he wanted to have a picnic with the bear (also pictured above). Turns out the bear was none to fond of his advances and forthwith began to summarily maul said uninvited picniceer.

(yeah, I went there … “picniceer”)

Police quickly responded by shooting the bear with numerous fragmentation rounds, thusly killing the bear.

Police and zoo officials say there has been an outpouring of public sympathy – for the bear.

I hope you caught the post from our newest blogger, Nuthin. Scroll down to the next article and give it a read. Oh, and make sure to leave a comment too, will ya?

Well, I should be getting along now. The boys should be done with their outing with Grandmom any time now. I cannot believe they have faced the slings and arrows of these mentally deranged “Black Friday” shoppers.


Sorry Mom … but it had to be said.

What better way to commemorate the only legitimate holiday left on the calendar, huh? We go from thanking God for all of the goodness in our life to a day filled with insane, angry shoppers everywhere looking for a “bargain.” Maybe the Jews are somehow behind all of this.

Who knows?

(Juuust kidding … I mean, hey … Jesus was a Jew too, ya know? Surely, a follower of the Son of God Himself (me == wayward follower) is not going to implicate himself / myself with such baseless accusations.

Or would I?

While I’m AFK …


I try to keep this site active, but between work and other duties that can sometimes be difficult.

Those of you who were around for some of my blogging over at MySpace might remember the fish depicted in the video below. Some even questioned if my write-up of the still image in that blog was at all accurate.

As proof I offer the following:

(for the rest of you, a somewhat recent delicacy in some parts of Asia is deep fried carp … except they wrap the head and gills of the fish in cold, wet towels so as to keep them ALIVE!


Until next time …



Random bits …


I stumbled across these earlier today and just HAD to share …

Message boards at offices and grocery stores are usually quite a bore, but not always!

Some Vegan group recently posted an ad for a local support group. A thoughtful non-Vegan obviously had an inspired moment!



The Spousal Unit and I have been somewhat active on Facebook lately. At first it was just a way to stalk our kids, but now that friends have found us out we’re re-discovering the “wonderful” world of school yard drama.

Of note is the ubiquitous use of status updates. ANYTHING you change on your profile can be broadcast to everyone on your so-called “friends” list. It gets especially entertaining when it comes to changes in relationship status, as the two of us recently discovered.

Aaaaaaaanyhow … this one almost had me falling out of my chair this morning!


You can also send quiz challenges to your friends. Megan, who had just recently broken up with Jordan, received this one …


Of course, be careful about what you post there … and more importantly, remember who’ve you invited/allowed on your friends list!


Well, that’s about it for today, kiddies. Off to help some friends move and then do a little clean-up around le Casa del Buck!

Until next time …



Courtroom drama … (a touching story, actually)


Daport, MD (AP) – A seven-year old boy was at the center of a courtroom drama when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him. The boy has a history of being beaten by his parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in keeping with the jurisdiction’s child custody law and regulations requiring that family unity be maintained to the highest degree possible.

The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him more than his parents did and made an awkward but impassioned plea that he not be remanded to her custody. The judge then suggested that he live with his grandparents, at which point the boy burst into tears and meekly intimated that they beat him also.

After considering the remainder of the immediate family and learning that domestic violence was apparently a way of life among them, the judge took the unprecedented step of allowing the boy to propose who should have custody of him.

After two recesses to check legal references and confer with the child welfare officials, the judge granted temporary custody to the Washington Redskins, whom the boy firmly believes are not capable of beating anyone.

. . .

Please don’t tell me you saw that one coming …

Yes, I have to admit that my NFC team of choice is the Washington Redskins. Originally (and STILL) a Denver Broncos, I moved to the DC area many, many moons ago — just this side of the dark ages, actually — and upon not being able to regular find Broncos games on TV, I started following the the local team. Whether it was fortunate or not, it also happened to be in the midst of their glory days under Joe Gibbs (the first coming, that is).

Fast forward to today … and the throngs of those who refer to them as the Deadskins are numerous. Sadder still, most of them are frustrated fans. It has been over 10 years since the Redskins began their descent of shame. For a few years most of us loyal fans found a multitude of reasons to shrug it off. The most popular line being, “Hey, it’s a rebuilding season, give ’em a break!”

Well, after 10 (yes, TEN) “rebuilding seasons” the fan base is beginning to have its fill of the “new” owner who bought the team after our beloved Jack Kent Cooke passed away. Dan Snyder (said “new” owner) has been a micro-managing, abrasive prick on almost every level and now, after 10 years, the fans are beginning to revolt.

Below is a scan I performed of a pamphlet that was handed to me at the pub yesterday:





I’d say that I couldn’t have written than any better myself, but …

A few weeks ago, however, I DID come up with what I thought was a funner / more appropriate first stanza to the team song:

Fail to the Redskins,

Fail victory

Fail on the warpath

Shame of all D.C.

My eldest son, a RABID, almost foaming at the mouth fan, never did respond to my posting that on his Facebook wall back then! LOL (ya know I love ya, boy!)

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