Posts tagged bacon
Any sense? Are you kidding me? Of course I sense! In fact, here’s my two …
Though my experience seemingly limited, and my opinions perhaps deemed irrelevant; I, Buck’s Evil Underling, hereby humbly accept the gracious invitation to try-out for one of the coveted positions as a resident”stunt blogger.”
So get ready beeches, I’m OFF:
I suppose I should begin with a “formal” introduction of myself.
I’m “A”. At least that’s what my friends call me.
It’s better than being called the name mother nature (that slut) gave me: Anonymous.
Last name “Hoell.”
Yeah, yeah. You’re funny.
You think I’ve never gotten any shit about my name being A. Hoell?!
I was the bastard child of some random whore who left me at heaven’s gate. Sister Prudence apparently thought it prudent to allow me to maintain such a shitty name, I assume, because of her bitterness toward her own wretched title.
But then again Nuns aren’t ALL bad, I ‘spose…
A redeeming quality, indeed. BUT I digress…
Sorry, I get distracted ALOT.
But back to my name..
Come on … we’re talking about My NAME … and THIS blog …
God, can ya just look away for just a second???
And I mean. It wouldn’t have been so bad! A. Hoell.. Har har.
But when I somehow managed to keep “Anonymous” as my first name yet end up with “Sylvan Siberius” as DOUBLE middle names, I knew that lady muuust have wanted to fuck with me. (I think ma’ was screwing Father So-and-So and her jealousy thus caused her to hate me.)
Again all theories.
So I am Mr. A. … aka: A. Hoell … aka: A. S. S. Hoell (as my license says) … aka: Mr. Anonymous, what have you.
Just don’t call me “late for dinner”
See? If I start with that, ALL my shit’s gonna seem pure comedic genius in comparison! 😉
What else is there that you should know about me?
I’m a man.
A straight man.
A “gay” joke may slip here and there. I don’t judge, nor do I hate. I just don’t understand…
I’m sorry. But don’t tell me I don’t know what a gay man feels like, I just forced out a power-poop that was ENTIRELY larger than I had previously anticipated… I now know.
I am, as you will all soon discover, a man of many passions. Like Buck himself, I am full of political ramblings, philosophical ditherings, and an endless flow of good ‘ol, home-baked vowel movements.
I love sports!
I love basketball. Football. Whatever.
now that’s what I call a “soccer mom”!
Yes, sports give me that funny feeling in my tummy…
March Madness is in full swing…
My bracket’s already been raped up the a**, along with my chances at $500, but it’s fun to watch nonetheless!
But more on THAT later.
As I still consider myself a young man, it is an interesting time to look at politics and see what my future has to hold.
And as a child of youth, I have an interesting perspective on the direction this country is being thrusted into by our beloved leadership.
But don’t think me an irrational thinker. I’m merely a passionate expressionist.
I’ll make an extra effort not to be aesthetically pleasing you while screwing/ defacing you and your opinions in too rough a fashion..
But there is so much news to cover that it would take WAY too much of this blog, your attention spans, and my sanity to POSSIBLY go into it all, but there is just one but I thought was relevant…
I KNOW, I know. I’m too rough. I don’t give enough credit to all the “hard work” our elected officials put into their jobs..
I just don’t buy into the messiah complex of the “chosen one” we voted into office…
Shooting stars will soon fall to earth. And he’ll land as a lame duck.
November’s coming, as is a revolution of sorts.
As a forewarning, I am equally as passionate and opinionated as Buck, so be ready for it!
So there is an infinite more to know about me, but that will have to do for now..
I believe my invitation to try out for a position as a Buck’s World stunt blogging extraordinaire because of our common love of …
Anyways, not only does March bring us March madness, it also ushers in the first official day of spring, which brings me back to MY thoughts of the day … in fact, the first of my two “sense”:
Legs are back!!
In case any of you live significantly South of the Mason-Dixon, there is a God-forsaken part of the year (traditionally referred to as “winter”) in which all legs, side breasts, shoulders, backs, and general eye candy are packed away or covered like some camel-F***ing, burka-wearing society in the Middle-East.
It’s a truly tragic part of the year.
But, praise Jesus, they’ve returned!!
Ah, and what a welcome return it is!!
There’s nothing QUITE like walking along on the first nice day of the year and seeing a perfectly shaped thigh for the first time.. It’s, it’s… downright special. Like being a 12yr old horn dog again! No being sly or tactful about it; When you see your first hot, young pair of legs in a given year, the eyes will be glued to such legs for at least, but not limited to, 7.65 seconds.
Or else you’re gay.
And believe me, we know who you are, “Mr. I’m_Stuck_in_the_Closet_but_Don’t_want_to_make_my_Guy_Friends_Uncomfortable”
(I think that last pic was worth clicking on, if you haven’t done so already)
And my second cent…
Last Christmas, I was sitting in front of yet ANOTHER shitty ABC Family “Christmas” film. Pondering how they continued to make these, and how they continued to make any money or attain a viewing audience at ALL…
The video quality has stayed pretty much the same since 1988, the acting is atrocious –featuring nobody you’ve ever heard of… For a reason– and it seems that the true purpose is to give you a cheap thrill (in this case “Christmas charm”) then put you to sleep.
That’s when it struck me:
Not 24 hours before, I had turned on an “After-dark” Cinemax special. Much like… No, identical to the Christmas special I was watching; the images of the cheesy, barely definable porn crossed the television screen.
You know what I mean…
Everyone’s first experience with the true beauty of “Premium movie channels.”
It’s there I discovered the vast conspiracy: Porno directors and Christmas special makers are the same people.
The similarities are undeniable. The truth, now exposed. At the youngest of ages, the same pornographers not economically able to purchase new cameras or screenplay producers create a societal norm of shitty filmmaking through ABC Family’s and Hallmark’s “Christmas Specials.”
Well as a stunt man of blogging, I now find myself at the terminal end of my inaugural blog.
Leave comments and I’ll try my VERY best to answer and reply as honestly as I possibly can manage..
Ah yes, honesty is a tricky virtue sometimes, is it not?
Have a great day!
Live free, Die young, Come again! (And again and again, if you’re of the female persuasion)
And courageously, I shall hopefully go forth into a new career of Stunt Blogging!
Pees, Little Faux Curse!!
So while Buck is busy concentrating on self-abuse with new-found technophilic lust for all things Droid, I thought I would take this opportunity to share with you my recently discovered insight on aging, broccoli flatulence, and health foods in general.
To start, I am no mere wisp of a man.
My physique could better be described as ‘robust’.
I am neither lamenting nor bragging, just speaking plainly.
I do not enjoy vegetables. I am a carnivore. (insert apologies to Jersey here)
I mean really, what is the point of salad? The only way it tastes good is when you dump all the creamy, oily, crunchy, bacony crap all over the top of it to add enough flavor to make it palatable, at which point it has turned the corner of counterproductive and straight into less healthy for you than your typical bacon cheeseburger, which is much more satisfying.
And really, what are we buying here with all this low-fat, low-carb, no-taste, aspertame tainted shit flavored garbage?
Ok fine, longer life. YAY!
We aren’t adding years to ‘beginning’ are we…where we could play all day long in the sweaty blissful ignorance of the child.
Nor are we adding time to the exploringly playful teenage years where new experiences, potential for fun and mischief, and chances at fulfilling the promises of a mis-spent youth are around every corner, with little or no major consequence (there are always exceptions, but you get the point, and I digress).
How about added time to the period commonly thought of as our ‘prime’, early 20’s to early 30’s?
No added years there either.
Not even so much as an extra minute added to the time where us men have allotted segments set aside for our mid-life crisis red convertable sports car diversions to avoid time spent with our women while they suffer through their own version of mid-life crisis, aka Mental Pause.
(Ladies….feel free to lambaste me in the comment section for my typically male insensitivities.)
It is interesting how those two times seem to coincide…
So all this healthy eating has only one place left to add time doesnt it….yeah….the end.
The time we are all dreading anyway. The time where our bones creak, our mind wanders, and we have to ask perfect strangers to wipe our asses. The time where we can no longer earn a wage nor get out and enjoy the things we have worked so hard for and have lived longer to see.
What the fuck is the point?
I get to live longer so I can experience the joy that is alzheimers?, rather than taste the fruits of my labor when they are ripe for the plucking?
I get to spend my old and decrepit years wasting away in a nursing home, no family to visit me, all my friends having died plesantly young, eating tastless food I cant chew, rolling around in my wheelchair because my joints hurt so bad its no fun to walk?
no sex cause I cant make ” ‘lil jimmy ” stand at attention long enough to spit, and the wrinkly old bags around me cant be folded in half anymore without popping a hip out of joint…although dentures means ‘smoothies’…so there is that…
sounds fucking delightful doesnt it…
I think we are being brainwashed by the Government, Aliens, Oprah, and the IOC into thinking that good food makes us live longer so we can live long enough to be sucked dry by ‘The Man’ in our waning years.
…I cant say I have put much thought into this theory yet, as it developed earlier this morning on the shitter….but give it time…I will work out all the kinks and you will see…
Although there is the lighthearted side of slowly losing ones mind.
There are the obvious benefits of say…being able to sleep in church without anyone so much as batting an eye.
The 11% senior citizens discounts at the local hardware store.
The free roll of toilet paper on Seniors Wednesday at the grocery.
The double bonus of both not having to shovel your driveway, AND laying a guilt trip on your grandchildren to do it for “your old grandad”.
I was out on an appointment tracking down wires, testing data connections and otherwise generally lurking around in the building of an assisted living complex, when I needed to get into a tenants room to test her interwebs jack connection.
I knocked on the door and identified myself as being a repairman from the local computer company and I heard her scurry to the door, yell “whats the password” and try to stifle an uncontrollable giggle from just behind the door.
I yelled “Peanuts” and heard her giggle some more before she opened the door to let me in.
She was tickled pink, and I got a smile out of the deal…although on the down side I had to indroduce myself like 12 times within the next 20 minutes, and hear, “…well my names Marge, how very nice to meet you young man. My, arent you handsome.”
The worst part of the deal….she had no cookies. Apparently she had had her “stove priviledges” suspended after a minor incident involving a post roast, some smoke, and a “teensy little ‘ol fire”.
I agreed with her, it was very unfair.
Sucks to be me I guess.
I am making a point here, getting old sucks, I dont think anyone will disagree with that, not the old, not the young.
Sure there are some advantages and some situations where getting old is a blessing, just like there is some people that can smoke for 60 years and get neither cancer nor emphysema, but its certainly the exception, not the rule, and mostly it just sucks.
Why are we forcing ourselves to do things we dislike now, so we can live longer into the years that are the least pleasant?
I am taking a stand. I am making a “Shortest Month of the Year” resolution.
For the entire rest of this month of Feb. I am taking a vow.
A vow to eat all things bacon, chocolate, and noodley.
I will have Mt. Dew over my sugar frosted flakes every morning, drink Whole milk, and have 6 sunny-side-up eggs with buttered toast…for every morning meal.
I am going to restrict the color of my food during lunch to only those things that come in shades of “golden brown deep fried goodness”.
For supper…I am going to eat huge quantities of barely cooked meat, covered in creamy rich sauces, saddled with baked potatoes slathered with sour-cream, chives, and crumbled bits of bacon.
I am going to have chocolate syrup covered popcorn over my ice cream for a snack sometime around 10pm, although I will brush my teeth before I go to bed because there is no excuse for a dirty mouth.
I may have a few extra lbs to deal with in the end, but that is the price I am willing to pay for not living long enough to catch Alzheimers from some contagious old person.
I think we should all stand together and take a vow to validate the current world view of our country as gluttonous greedy overweight pompous bastards who drive huge cars and wear huge pants!
Are you with me people!!!!
ALL TOGETHER NOW…..EAT DRINK AND BE MERRY, FUCK TOMORROW!!!!!
…well at least for the rest of February anyway
Thanks for reading…and please tip your beertenders…
Good day to you kind citizens of Bucks Werld, and a happy February to all!
It has been awhile since I have had anything worth writing about, and I doubt today will be any different but I will try anyway.
The nerd herd here at the office has unexplainably lost all of its pretty womanly talent (receptionists) and now us dorks are manning the front office until they return, and its glaringly obvious why we don’t do this job every day, we suck at it.
We have no people skills, we have failed to adapt in socially acceptable ways to everyday situations, which is why most of us are slightly weird, mentally gangly loser’s anydamnway.
It’s a good thing that this company’s public representation is the nice ladies that are the face of the front office, otherwise we would go bankrupt.
We tend to turn the music up loud and throw things at each other while screaming expletives and making crude drawings on the white boards until we can find some poor loser fellow employee whose left their computer unlocked so we can put a semi-nude picture of David Hasselhoff holding/molesting puppies as their desktop background.
I’ve seen zoo chimpanzees show more decorum while flinging poo at each other.
Speaking of poo flinging, and animals in general…
This whole recent “snow animals” direction that Buck has taken up with seems to reside a little too close to beastiality than I would prefer to live, so I am not going to comment on his: whale/pig/cow/glove/elephant/shark/fist/kangaroo/frog, menagerie of unhealthy obsessional delusions for the moment, but I do reserve the right to hold judgment at a later date. (at which time I may enlist the help of our fair and unbiased readership to attempt to hold him accountable for the “things that have been seen, cannot be UNseen.” effect. )
Moving on before I incur the wrath of Buck…
Well Christmas came and went, New Years came and went, hell even janularry came and went and now 1/12th of 2KX is gone and I have nothing to show for it other than a few dozen empty 6 pack containers of Guinness and a pair of skis that are one full ski short of being a pair of skis.
I still have both the poles though, so while I’m screaming down the hill on one ski, throwing empty bottles of beer at the little ski-monkey kids, I can whack the ones I miss with my poles.
Skiing is fun as hell dude.
Living in the great white north as I do, there are two things we have no shortage of here…snow and beer. ( I will not include fat women in this short list because that would be more than two things, and I typed the word two already so I can’t go back and change it now)
The snow is awesome cause it make the lakes freeze solid so we can fish without our boats sinking (we have old boats). This is known as “drunken frozen lake fishing”, and we tow the boats right out on the lake and drill holes through the ice and drunkenly try to cast our lures into the holes we drilled.
We never catch more than a buzz, but we sure have fun doing it. When we are drunk enough we pull the boats back off the lake and drag them through the city streets (after lighting them afire of course).
(I heart Guinness)
(our boat was slightly smaller than this, though the fire just just as spectacular, expecially at about 45mph)
I suppose this is why our boats normally sink during the summer, “drunken unfrozen lake fishing”, season (I understand they have this new thing out for putting under your boat, it has wheels or something, weird). This might explain why our relationship with the local authorities might be a little strained (it’s usually their boats we borrow while they are out driving their little cop cars around, ok that was only one time, long memories those cops).
(true story…)( tank de laud for the statue of limitations, and the Marine Corps taking me away from the area for awhile)
The only down side is when we are done drinking we have to pick up all the empty beer bottles and cans cause normally in the summer we can just fillem with water and watch em sink to the bottom of the lake, but frozen water don’t sink, so our beer cans float on top of the ice and we have to pick em up and put em in the back of the neighbors truck.
Believe it or not this is a better method of fishing than our former and more explosive method.
(better being relative of course)
I have nearly worn out my Christmas gift of BuckyBalls making intricate shapes and spheres and helixical pointless do-dads. My coworkers have also taken a liking to my balls and ask to play with them quite often. The down side to this is that I work with mostly men, and the girls I DO work with seem disinterested. So I don’t share them as often as I would like.
Meow its time for a signature section of mine called…
Nuthin’s Vogon Poetry Corner
Today I would like to share with you a little gem that I havn’t written yet, so I had better start.
…and here it is!!
Senility is Bliss
roses are red
tacos are pink
I saw my gran nekkid
now I need a shrink
Water is blue
fire is red
I dont understand
how grandpas not dead
mustard is yellow
lettuce is green
you cannot unsee
what has been seen
Salt is to sprinkle
pepper to grind
I bet grandpas thankful
hes almost blind
Gran struts proud nekkid
says shes in her prime
Gran doesnt care
**takes deep bow**
OK people I has to go, work is over and it’s time for supper, and I shant be late.
Talk at cha later!
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???
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!
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?
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?
Of COURSE NOT!
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 …
… you will love our bacon … you will love our bacon …
I stumbled across an article this morning announcing the results of a recent study and claiming that men prefer to smell of bacon over the smell of babies.
This got me to thinking …
Babies … spittle, dribbles of vomit, loaded diapers.
But bacon? Why on Earth was this even used as a basis of comparison.
I mean, think about it …
You have …
. . .
. . . VERSUS . . .
. . .
Are you KIDDIN’ me?!?!?!
. . .
Rather than research the raw data I began a mental journey all my own, convinced that I could solve this mystery on my own.
BUT WAIT … before we begin, make sure to grab your Magic Thinking Cap …
I know, I know … ever *that* sort of looks like bacon, doesn’t it??? [wink] … the bacon hypnosis is working … it’s working!!!
As my postulations and meditations on bacon began, I quickly realized that man has quite the affinity for bacon. Well, if you discount those horribly effeminate men who call themselves Vegans.
. . .
Dogs, they say, are man’s best friend …
. . .
. . .
That MIGHT be taking the whole “man’s best friend” thing a little too far, though.
. . .
I then recalled some of the delightful bacon dishes I’ve encountered over the years. Delicious dishes that only a man would design!
. . .
YES! Bacon encrusted donuts! What more could a man ask for?
. . .
As you should know by know, be careful about posing questions to me …
. . .
As I thought about it, another memory came to mind … a culinary memory that involved bacon …
. . .
. . . and donuts …
. . .
The Bacon Cheeseburger with a Krispy Cream Donut as the bun!
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
Could that be it, though?
. . .
Could there be more to bacon than just these little culinary treats?
. . .
Evidently, someone else in the world thinks so …
[blink] … [blink]
. . .
. . .
Yeah, that one sort of caught me off guard too.
. . .
But only for a moment …
. . .
. . .
It immediately hit me … there was — embedded somewhere deeply in my synapses — a memory of something that I believe very well may be approaching the pinnacle of bacon lover’s bliss …
. . .
The Bacon Bra!
. . .
And we all know how competitive the world is … and just when you thought we had achieved the plateau of bacon brilliance, I remembered this image …
. . .
Bacon == Win!
. . .
Update: The highly esteemed Buck’s World contributor, Nuthin, swung by last night and uploaded an additional bacon pic that definitely belongs as part of this post. To further advance the maxim that Bacon == Win! I proudly present:
. . .
And if you’re interested, there’s a dude that documented a fun looking recipe to make bacon infused vodka, Absolut Bacon is what he calls it!
But if, like me, you’re more on the lazy side, there’s always …
Proving once again …
. . .
Bacon == Win!
… MESSIAH CROSSING …
Ladies and gentlemen …
Boys and Girls …
Children of ALL ages …
(well, mostly) …
Welcome back to another installment of The News as Viewed Askew …
or as it’s been titled for most of the past 23 years …
I try to make these an early morning Saturday blog, but I dare say I’m not going to be all that interested with such things as it will be the first time I’ve seen my sons in several months. The energy expended to channel that goofy state of mind that I need to drift off into while perusing my image gallery will be much better spent, I’m certain.
But anyhow …
Since last we met, a number of things have taken place around this crazy globe of ours.
Beaujolais Nouveau festival, Kanagawa, Japan
Every year, Japanese men and women descend upon Kanagawa, Japan to celebrate the release of the latest vintage of Beaujolais Nouveau.
Unlike America, one hysterically whiny little shit of a human being cannot ruin a tradition enjoyed by many.
And yes, they’re bathing in wine!
How cool is that?!?!?!?!
Elsewhere in Japan …
Sorry, I forget the details, but there’s yet ANOTHER convention in Japan where robots hold a certain amount of focus.
I mean, do you have ANY CLUE how obsessed the Japanese are with the idea of robots? I stumbled across a “documentary” last night about the “Future of Sex” and certain firms in Japan that are working on creating the most realistic sex robots imaginable. Sadly, one man is even trying to work out the algorithms necessary to build in ever-shaping and reasonably realistic EMOTIONS. Great … as if having real women say “No” is not bad enough.
Just give me my blow up sheep, thanks.
Here’s the image of the robot associated with some event in Japan that does NOT have to do with sex …
WTF is up with the gold “appendages”???
From Russia with Love …
No real story behind this one … just an enthusiastic bunch of “football” fans get some face and body paint before a big game in Russia. I usually correct the non-American moniker and use the term “soccer” instead, but upon noticing this woman’s glorious level of enthusiasm and team spirit I figured it just wasn’t worth the effort.
Maybe that’s what those goofy little British boys were singing about in their song, “Back in the USSR” …
We interrupt our regularly scheduled news reporting to pimp a relatively funny website …
Have you checked out AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com yet?
Oh man! Hahahahaha … that site contains some pretty funny photos and has been enjoying a decent amount of pimpage lately.
In fact, here’s one that I found particularly amusing. If you can point out what it is that made ME chuckle, there’s a valuable prize involved … but you have to leave it in the COMMENTS section below.
Miss Earth 2009
I honestly have no idea who won … I simply wanted to add that I, personally, am a great deal more energy efficient than a Duracell … if ya catch my drift.
And yeah, that was a pagent of some sort recently hosted in Indonesia. As easy on the eyes as the event was, I had to keep choking back the urge to spit up bile as it was just another publicity stunt by that raging lunatic Greenies and their bullshit global warming propoganda. Not only are more and more prominent scientists finally stepping up to the politically correct bullying of the past couple decades to decry what a miserable sham this whole global warming / climate change is, but how inherently corrupt the movement itself is.
Add to that the FACT that the polar ice core samples unquestionably shows that carbon dioxide levels rise AFTER warming periods. Never once has it preceded a warming trend …
Don’t get me wrong. Like my great uncle before me (late author of the formerly syndicated column, The Angry Environmentalist) I DO believe that mankind must get more serious about our stewardship of this fine planet we have. I mean, here’s a just a small example of how seemingly insignificant matters can have lasting effects. Here’s an albatross that died (of what cause I know not) on the atoll/island of Midway:
Midway is really out in the middle of friggen NOWHERE. All the shit in the middle there is undigestible material that bird plucked from the water’s surface over time.
But I’m not here to preach.
Is Ringo God?
Like many others, I’m a Beatles fan. Of the group, I’ve always had some sort of thing for Ringo Starr … I dunno, it was probably his role in the cult classic, “Caveman” (with his wife, Barabara Bach, Dennis Quaid, Shelly Long and the late John Matuszak) …
But anyhow … a scientist here in the states doing some fluid dynamics research came across a very bizarre series of results one night. These are, reportedly, unretouched, NON-Photoshopped images from his lab.:
Sure, you may want to assume he was stoned … but I know I’m NOT and … well … I see Ringo!
Strange Toys …
Sometimes I actually get it … sometimes I am able to set aside my tendency to be immediately cynical about the way in which we are brain-washing and dumbing-down our children with some of the completely retarded toys and the like that get pushed upon them.
However … this morning I encountered a series of “plush toys” designed to educate toddlers about various germs.
The thought being: germs are scary things and children should be educated so as to alleviate some of the more irrational fears …
BUT WAIT … THERE’S MORE!
(I’m crappin you negative)
Seriously … that last plush toy was Chlamydia!!!! Need proof?
Here’s the tin they’re sold in …
What’d I tell ya?!?!?!!
SIGNS OF THE TIMES!
Nope, sorry … not another one of my more religious tomes, it’s time once again for another sampling from my most awesome collection of signs!
Wow … that happens often enough to warrant a sign being posted???
While on the subject of: “Do they really have to worry about that????” …
Mmmmmmmmmmm … bacon!
Holy smokes, it’s almost time for me to get up the road, jump in that happy little twin engine Barron and head to Indiana to pick up my boy!!!
T3 … if you’re reading this, please bear the following in mind:
For the rest of you … seeings how winter is upon us and many species of bear are busy making their last minute “plans” for hibernation, I’m going to spread a little love by voluntarily sharing a friendly little Public Service Announcement …
In honor of the long-standing tradition of face-painting, I leave you the following …