The Man From New York

This is the man from New York. The man I will most likely see there:



Oh oh. I love him he's so cool! What's he going to do next? Huh? Oh this is gonna be good. He's so cool and all alone and I don't think he has any clue what we due to little people like him. Right? RIGHT?

Hang on. wait for it... you're going to be impressed... he's there and I don't like him but it's time to give him a little present... are you ready?

Cue the Dragon!!!!

True New York

So, I decided to do some research on the big city before I leave for my New Year's adventure. From Gribley's Travel and Wartnot:

New York City, New York Prefecture, American States - New York is a hostile land known for it's rats and transexuals. Residents travel underground and live on top of one another. Everything costs five dollars. Many people with blades attack everyone who moves. Inanimate objects are possesed by ethnic sex demons. Command like "Take your clothes off" are heard from the windows and the busses are on fire at night.

My Brother Got Hit By a Boat

The whole united stinks of amerigone, god bless us, is in need of a purge. It is with this in mynd that I pack mah bags for the fair city of New York to usher in the New Year. I have no idea why this is on my list of things to do before I die.

First off, New York holds no special place in the chronology of history or the history of chronology. New Years in New York really just kind of invented itself. All I know is I don't drink, it's going to be ass bass ass bass bassa assa cold out there in Father Time Square and my BRILLIANT chapeau is little consolation.

On the other shoe, there's a part of me that wants to swim in a sea of New Year's Wishes. *shoots self*

This Thing

So, I'm watching TV about a week ago and I get this creepy thing that keeps happening to me. Some female model comes on talking about some crap she's selling and suddenly, she becomes so beautiful she's ugly.

Seriously. I looked at her and she was stunning. Absolutely breath taking. Then, everything she was became ugly. It wasn't some sort of ideological thing about beauty for sale. I think she burnt out my beauty circuit. I think my mind had enough of beauty. There's too much of it. A surplus of it. As TV and film pushes the envelope, regular gals try to keep up. This raises even a moderately pretty girl or guy to a new level when they use the hollywood image as the goal.

Everyone and everything is getting too pretty.

I want to smash it.

Suddenly, I was awash in punk angst, but it was a visceral response and not a hunger for rebellion. My beauty meter had flamed out completely and all beauty cause a sickening buzz in my mind for a few days.

I'm better now, but the impression lingers. There's something devious going on in advertising, but I think it might end up having unintended backlash. The mind can only handle so much beauty.

St. Louis Five Knuckle Shuffle

"Earn your five million dollars, boy!"

Dear Spacefarmer1

There It Is!!!!

Edit: Added poem.



"After Christ-a-must days,
I got some mayonaise.
It was two days after
CHRIST-a-MUST!

It was the best jar
Of stuff by far.
It was blue and filled
With spacedust!

Give me mayonaise!
For my chicken rondolays!
Happy Christ-a-must days...
Tooooooo Yoouuuuuuuu...."

In other news, the snow ate my baby:

Cue The Dragon!

Okay. Bear with me for a second. This is the new rage. Okay. Okay. I'm making something up here, but it's okay. So, you know how life kinda builds and builds and builds? Like,everything gets crazy intense and people start calling, and relatives reveal secrets and so on?

No?

You know what I mean! Things are just rolling along like normal and nothing big, and then, just a tingle on the back of the neck..... mmmmmmm. Wait for it.

You could swear you felt something....

Is he going to tell me something? The money? WHAT? A rumble off in the distance....

Plane or thunder? Either way, it's coming. A storm is coming. Another rumble. No no no. He's not serious is he????

Yep. I'm going to do it. You thought I couldn't do it. But here it goes.

Cue the DRAGON!







.......





shit.

SHOCKED!

I got an email from a long time reader and it was... negative!!!

Dear Dr. Murk,

What's up buddy? Naw, just kidding. You're a complete ass. I've been lurking around your blog for a long time and many times I've wondered if I should comment. I never have, cause you seem very defensive and hostile. Is it because you're a walking cock with an ego problem? Does it make you feel like a big man to insult people you don't know and spread your macho biggotry over the internet so no one can call you out?

Well, I'm calling you you out. I'm going to challenge you right here via email. You and me. No refs, no pins. A knockout death match. First one to 20 knockouts wins. I am so about kicking your ass right now I can't even breath without skullfucking your image in my mind. I've got goosebumps the size of an ape's ass thinking about slipping on my tight wrestling shorts and getting all oiled up and locking horns with you on the mat.

Something all the fans out there have to realize is that there's s new sherrif in town and I was made to boogie down. YEAH! That's right Murk. You call your friends and tell them to get with my friends and we can go all night! WOOOOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I'm a train, bitch! Can you handle the hot white avalanche??????????

Aggressively,

Buzz Sawyer
DMD, DDS, PhD, Esq asap

Well, I uh

The Gift

So, before I launch into a tirade, I will give some background information. I have been tolerating a certain ad campaign by a certain retailer for over three months now. I've had enough. I'm not sure if these ads are regional or national. I can guarantee they're not oversees. So if you haven't seen or heard of this company or their ads, fear not. Join me in a rant about something which you've never seen.

Jewelry. I understand the appeal, ladies. I get it. Take some hard earned money and buy a lady something impractical that tells the other ladies that you've got your man so whipped he'll do anything. I really get it.

BUT, have you seen the smut the goldsmiths and diamond dealers think you'll fall for? Here's a few facts before I go off:

1. If your man shops at a chain jewelery store that he saw on TV, then your man is an idiot. Real jewelry comes from real jewelers who don't have to advertised and are not found in a mall.

2. Chain jewelers are junk peddlers. The advertise because they want women to think they want what all the other women want. If you get the same gift from the same store as the next bimbo, then you must be trashy.

So, when a a jewelry store claims that the best thing you can hear is "He went to Jared!!!!!", they are saying "You'll want what we tell you to want, you fat hog, and what you want is mass produced whoreglass and gold plated nickel crap trinkets like the circus freaks and your friends have!!!!"

Jared is the K-Mart of jewelry chains. In short, if he didn't go to Jared, be glad. Real bling isn't made in a factory.

Take the Dr. Murk Quiz!

Question the first:

1. You are Dr. Murk. What is the first thing you do?

a.) Take out life insurance policy on butler.

b.) Rake hoat coals and walk barefoot across.

c.) Stab a homeless guy.

d.) Reneg on contract with the dark one.

Question the deuce:

2. The locals are striking again. To quell the petit rebellion, you...

a.) Light a muthafucker on fire as an example.

b.) Call in the local Witch Doctor and get high on domestic euthenogens in order to spirit walk and kill their ancestors.

c.) Summon the 'tatooed man' to deal with it.

d.) Have Mrs Dr. Murk make shoes out of them.

Kwestion trois:

3. Interpol has sent their lawers again. You escape arrest by...

a.) Don a crappy disguise and tell them that you are Guy Incognito.

b.) Show them your file on Joey Polanski and cut a deal.

c.) DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY!!!

d.) Poison their blood with a needle.

Kreton numbah foor:

4. You wake up and are no longer Dr. Murk. You...

a.) Die in anguish.

b.) Assume Hell has finally followed with you... and caught up.

c.) Make a sandwich and figure it will wear off eventually.

d.) East a lightbulb. It can't be worse.

Questio cinq:

5. You have not posted to your blog due to severe writers cramp. How do you excuse yourself to your adoring public?

a.) Make a lame excuse and not give a fuck.

b.) Tell the truth about the Yakuza ninja assault on your compound.

c.) Force the Angry Piper to write this at gunpoint.

d.) Nothing. You're Dr. Murk. You are the internet.

Quick

I get a lot of random thoughts up in my brain crib. Sometimes life isn't so easy when you stick a portable genius box on top of your neck, you know? Like there's this one thought I keep having over and over again.

Permission

Gaining entrance is key. Once permission is granted to enter, then space is made. Receiving permission is easy. The greatest lie ever told was that we were not loved. This is the lever. Get permission. Create space. Once open, never closed.

This is the key to miragles and magig. Gain entry. Proceed and create space.

The Formula

Introduced to my by one of my research assistants, this formula is the key to understanding personal relationships for men across the world.

To begin, a simple equation:

Woman = Time x Money

In order to get a woman, a man needs time and money. Addition here won't work, due to the factoral nature of the amount of time and money needed.

And we all know the next equation:

Time = Money

Time is money. Using substitution, we get:

Woman = Money x Money (Money Squared)

We also know that money is the root of all evil.

So, the square root of evil squared is... evil. So, in our final analysis:

Woman = Evil

No Conspiracy Need Not Apply

I've noticed the conspiracy bug going around again. I used to believe in conspiracies. Then, I learned about marketing and advertising. There's no need for an all encompasing conspiracy. We are already TV cattle, consuming the visual cud.

FACT: Most of you intend to 'rock the vote' next month. That means that you're voting for a politician. Either you believe in your selected future figurehead, or you don't but are voting for the lesser of two evils. No, there's not much else to do besides play the voting slot machine. That tells you something right there. You're buying what someone is selling. Selling. Not campaigning, selling.

You're already taken over. You are already marginalized. You're already tuned in. You are so there. I heard a joke today. Why don't Americans grow their own food? They never learned how! Ha ha. Ha ha. You've got a food IV just down the street. Hot the button and drip drip drip, in goes the morphine.

So, should we resort to subsistence farming? Hell no. But don't you see? There's no option but the foor IV, the political pill, the netertainment enema. No revolution. No. No war on American soil. No. Cows. We are cows. Rabbits. Try the lettuce.

Even organic produce is organic bullshit. Try and escape and find the walls. They're solid. They're real. Locate the boundry lines. You have loved ones to feed. People to care about. Revolution is not for us. It's a dirty business and the people we love will be held prisoner if we revolt.

They don't need an army and you don't want a revolution.

Try a little civil disobedience on for size. I give it one week before you're back on the chain gang. Obama does not care about your ass any more than McCain. He's never met you and wouldn't lend you a twenty for half a tank of gas. McCain is worse. It's arsenic or cyanide for you.

So, what do we do?

For one, think about what you want. Stop chasing the fight, the dead end, the high and get liberated. Your mind and your home and your family and your friends are your fortress, your purpose. Free your soul. This world is a transient dream, a nightmare for some, but still a dream. Change starts in the self, spreads to the home and then, only then, can it affect change in the world.

Will the world change? No. If the mountain won't come to you, go to the mountain. The world won't change. You have to.

The Commercial

The commercial came on again. It's one of those crappy car commercials with a 90s alt rock anthem behind it. The guy talks about his car having a 40 gig hard drive.

I wake up in 1998. Someone promises a one gig hard drive for a PC. I remember 100 meg hard drives. 10 meg hard drives. A one meg hard drive.

Now, I'm ashamed of my 4 gig mp3 player that has more storage as a flash device than the first computer I owned. There are cell phones that could have manually run the lunar landings. Small drones the size of bees fly with cameras by remote control. People can see through walls and make things turn invisible. Invisible. Reflect light away from an object at odd angles...

I use light to communicate over glass wires. Books publish themselves. Gas costs $3.00. We have cars that run on hydrogen. We've found water on Mars. Lifespan of humans has increased by 10 years over the past 20, ever so close to escape velocity necessary for immortality. There's almost ten billion people on the planet. I swipe a card to buy my groceries at a self checkout. They have drugs to cure almost everything...

and a car with a 40 gig hard drive. Not because it's necessary, but because it's cheap, easy and useful.

2008. Gotta love it.

The Maniac Pursues Truth

The pursuit of truth consumes. Trying to define the concept is maddening enough. No one seems to agree what truth should be. There are dozens of schools of thought about defining truth.

Most people take the old personal truth approach. That means the only truth one can find is personal, subjective, different from different viewpoints. That can be dangerous indeed. When the only arbiter of truth is the self, the self is the only one needed for verification. Sure, we can incorporate other people's ideas, but ultimately, we still keep what we want and reject the rest. Our integrated view of truth becomes our beacon for finding truth.

Another popular approach is that the truth is unknowable, proven by a very interesting idea. Human beings cannot, as human beings, define themselves because they are human beings and therefore, logically, not a valid proof of themselves. You can't define a system if you are the system. You need an outside observer, of which, currently, we have none. No non human observer.

Unless you believe in a God or Gods. But then, that's belief, and a subjective truth know only to those who believe it. Of course, believers claim it's true for everyone, regardless of belief. When asked for proof, they offer their belief. Another self defining system.

But if we cannot know the truth, we amputate our ability to reason. If it's unknowable, then why advance society and technology and science towards truth? I don't know. I like my oven and my hot water. I like open communication via internet. It's worse than throwing the baby out with the bathwater, it's not admitting there's even a baby.

Some argue that society creates truth by consensus. The Inquisition was bad, but it was consented to by the powers of society and thus became a truth. It happened. Unfortunately, that implies the human race creates truth. That ignores some obvious non human creations which plants recognize as the sun, although we never consulted them about the sun.

The value of searching for truth is surety in life and maybe progress towards living better. So we can't even say finding truth is valueless.

Simple platitudes won't do it either. There's an underlying, undiscovered, knowable correctness that cannot be summed into a sentence. Perhaps it can't be contained in words or thoughts.

At the moment, the author is resigned to the moment, which he missed entirely while writing this.

I've Got Something on My Mind

Quite literally. The man working the controls of the Murk Machine has long battled mental illness with varying degrees of success. I'm just a mouthpiece of his for some of the absurd or quite serious ideas that have no other proper sphere in which to be expressed. I'm not a seperate personality, a figment or a fiction, but I am a piece of a larger whole. My origins are shrouded in mystery, but I am certain that the illness of my controller is in part responsible for my being.

When you throw around the words mental illness, you combine the idea of the mind and a sickness, an implication that the mind is ill. This is not the case at all. The person is ill. The mind works the same as everyone else. That's part of the difficulty. I can think just as well as the next guy, probably better. I'm as rational as most people. But, despite rational knowledge, I can't reason with this illness. It does what it does. Sometimes I get a measure of control, sometimes I get none.

The whole idea of mental illness seems to be in the mind. It's not. The term is a misnomer. It's a full, whole and consuming condition. It manifests in physical sensations, in sleep patterns, in eating, drinking, substance abuse, communication, emotion, thought and in my existential core. It's an illness that is not of mind, but of person.

Hell, I could deal with a broken mind. That's fun. I can watch mental nonsense like it's television. I find humor in the absurdity of disordered thought, chaotic swings of logic, etc. It's the damn rest of it that makes it tough.

The worst part is the nagging feeling that almost everyone around me thinks I could 'get better' if I did something, took some medicine or just 'dealt with it'. You don't reason with it, drug it, excercise it and you sure as hell don't cure it. You cope. Whatever you're in at the moment, you cope with. Sometimes, coping is enough. Sometimes it's not. People don't understand this. They want cause and effect. They want reasons. They want a consistent go or no go. Most of all, they want you to stop 'hurting'.

It's a nice sentiment, but a lot of pressure. Trust me. I've been at this a long time and I know what the day in and out of it entails. That's how it is.

If you're reading this, and you know me and are concerned, good. Do something with that concern... keep it. I don't want it. It's a heavy heavy heavy burden that, when I'm in a rough spot, makes it much more difficult to cope.

If someone gets a cut, and you keep asking them if they're okay, and reacting like it's hurting you that they got a cut, you make the injured person's state of mind turn in towards the injury and the distress the injury is causing everyone. I understand the concern, but it's not nice.

On the other hand, throwing up the old stopsign and saying, "Hey. Screw that prick. I've got enough shit to deal with. I don't need him making it worse," that's kinda crappy too.

So, for all of you experts and amateurs and concerned citizens out there, here's an idea. Recognize that there is a very real illness and pain. Don't freak out, don't look for reasons, don't try to fix and don't toss up a middle finger. Just accept what it is, be yourself, do a nice thing, make a joke or something. In short, act normal for crying out loud.

Like I said, I know better than anyone I ain't normal. That doesn't mean I'm any different. (And yes, I know I just said that)

The Secret Advice

Often I am asked to call upon my life wisdom to help people. Besides my brother Malach, most of my friends are my age or younger and haven't quite settled down yet. Well, there's Spacefarmer, but he's like a bizzaro world Murk and only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

My friends often ask me about marriage, work, bills, stress, aging, health and wellness. I know I know. It's unfair for them to beat themselves up for not being me. Anyways, I do have one piece of wisdom that will benefit anyone who's not already settled in life:

A house is nothing but and entropy factory. By this, I mean, a house is less a shelter and more an aprenticeship in house fixing, house cleaning and storage maximization. You also get a minor is interior decorating and recreational management.

In short, buy a condo.

Why?

Because. Now, get a nice one with central air, lots of light and some measure of privacy. Here's the dirt: They fix and clean everything except the interior walls, ceiling and floor finish. They even mow the lawn. Who's they? A property management company.

Also, condos are cheaper and usually have ammenities like washer and dryer room, excercise space and sometimes a pool.

Often in my merry way of blogging I mention the Palatial Estate. It's half joke, half true. It's huge. Got a good plot of land. All sorts of nicey nice dog stuff. Bigger means more work. And with the economy the way it is, I had to cut the maintenance staff. I even had to cancel my massage therapist.

So, when Mrs. Dr. Murk discovers a defect in the plumbing (kitchen drain, luckily not toilet) I am forced to swing the hefty wrench. This is in addition to flaw after flaw after flaw I've had to fix since we bought the house. I just did a brief total of costs, not including labor: $40,000. Papa Murk will insist I exaggerate, so I itemize:

Septic System: $15,000
Water Heater: $1,000
Furnace: $3000
Floors: $7000
Pellet Stove: $2000
Appliances: $5000
Spray Lawn: $2000
Furniture etc: $5000

And that's a lowball.

Even new house have problems. In fact, new houses have lots of problems for the first ten years.

So, If you own a house, cry with me. If you don't learn from me.

Voodoo Economics

This government bailout has me steamed. I know there was no way around it, but still. Everyone gets a $2300 tax hike so some banker can get a golden parachute. And most of these bad banks will still fail. Too much bad paper out there. These notes on houses won't pay themselves and the bailout will barely cover the three months of interest these banks have to pay to the international consortiums.

Once that runs out, the bad notes are still there. What will turn banking around between now and then? Confidence in the baking and lending system is at an all time low. Bernake and Paulson keep cutting rates (check their party affiliations before you point at the GOP).

The economy needs a rate hike. A one year plan to raise rates up two points. This will create an artificial recession which will be much better than the actual one we are in and heading deeper into.

So, float the banks a loan, hike the rates half a point a month. Suck the breath out of Wall Street. Add value by lowering stock prices and raising interest bearing accounts. Temporarily suspend any change to the tax code. Tie American dollars to the Euro. Lastly, fire Bernake and Paulson.

And, sadly, elect Barack Obama. Not because he's the right choice, but because of a comfort factor that will ease fears, open wallets and improve foreign exchange.

Look on the bright side. Japan had to do the exact same thing and they survived it.

AND, yes... it is time to end our occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan. Take the savings and increase homeland security. Don't touch military spending, but direct it back where it belongs, here in our nation, protecting our nation.

Welcome to the United States of France...

The Binary Code

Zeros and ones.

The New Podcast

The Murk and Malach Show makes a return today. Links:

http://third-option.com/podcasts/mmshow.html

Enjoy

Unsolicited Fighting Championship

It takes my brain a while to put very large ideas together. So, it's no surprise that it's taken me so long to figure out why UFC stuff bugs me. I'm not concerned by the violence or the effect on young people or the fighters. I love watching, understanding and practicing fighting. I'll never know why. I'm not a bully ot tough guy. I don't get into fights ever. I just like to know my limits and my expectations if things get dangerous.

BUT, what if someone decided to take UFC to the streets? Ah. My opinion is that MMA professionals would, yes, mop the floor with people like me. But what if they hit that one guy that was just a freaking nutbag street guy?

So, I propose the Unsolicited Street Fighting Championship.

If you see a MMA dude walking around, sucker punch him. Throw a rock at him. Toss him through a windshield. I wanna see it. I want to see what these guys could do in a regular situation where some speed freak breaks a bottle on their head. You heard me.

Well, come on. Isn't that what it's all about? It's a tough guy thing to do. They fight. Let them eat cake. I want to see it. Bats, crains, garden tools, bring the plumbing stuff. Pure machismo.

No?

Then stop pretending UFC is a valid event.

Thank you.

I've Tried...

I can't stand Barack Obama. I just plain don't like the man. The same way I plain don't like George Bush. I'll go as far as to say, he's the Black Democratic George Bush. His sound bites contain horrible grammar, made up words, practiced slogans a rhetoric with no substance.

"cheerleaded" is not a word, Senator Obama.

"The McCain-[Sarah] Palin ticket, they don't want to debate the Obama-Biden ticket on issues because they are running on eight more years of what we've just seen. And they know it," the Democratic presidential nominee said. "As a consequence, what they're going to spend the next seven, eight weeks doing is trying to distract you."

Distract us from your lack of experience and voting record? Distract us from your anti-American statements, your gender bashing, your character flaws, your past drug use and your muslim roots?

"They're going to talk about pigs, and they're going to talk about lipstick; they're going to talk about Paris Hilton, they're going to talk about Britney Spears. They will try to distort my record, and they will try to undermine your trust in what the Democrats intend to do."

How could that trust ever be undermined? They only people voting for you are Democrats, who don't care who you are or what you stand for, only that you get elected. Independents are considering you. Moderates dislike you. Christians don't trust you.

And if you honestly think your ten second sound bite sums up the next seven months, that the Republican Party is that stupid as to talk about Paris Hilton and Britney Spears for seven months, you are an ass. Plus, those irrelevant things were all created by YOU, you freaking moron. You mean no one in your campaign heard Sarah Palin make her 'lipstick' comment and warned you that the 'lipstic on a pig' comment could be misconstrued? You honestly think we're dumb enough to not pick up on it? Then, you want to say 'oh, no fair, I didn't mean her!'. Bullshit, you Misoginist. The whole phrase 'lipstick on a pig' is sexist in its implications.

I'm tired of this blackballing. Who does he think he is. Vinny Del Negro? He's a slave to his party. We're not getting caught up in this political lynching, this tar pit politics, this black as night, fist bumping terrorist crap.

And I didn't mean any of that they way it sounded. It wasn't about that crybaby Barack Obama, it was about his economic policy or something else not related to him directly, because I run a clean campaign here.

Freak.

Reader Response

Yes, I still get emails, but most of them are either too serious or complaints. Here's a fun one:

Dear Dr. Murk,

You ever wonder why some guys use only their zipper when taking a piss and some guys open up and pull down?

Chauncey


Well, Chauncey, I have a few theories. A little background for the penis deprived, first. Ladies, men don't even have to unbutton their pants to pee. They can unzip, work the underwear flap, exctract pink fun stick and go. But, this can be a delicate arraingement. There's crimping the flow, poor extension leading to front wetting, splashback and zipper safety to consider.

One way of avoiding these complications is to just pull down, fire and forget. I favor this method for simplicity and because I yank down to the knees in public bathrooms to scare a two urinal space around me. Oddly, some other men find this a challenge and stand right next to me and pull down to the knees. This usually leads to some fun conversations like, "Man, you are hung like a mammoth!" "Thanks. You got a lucky wife too, I see."

But for some, discretion is the better part of valour. In other words, they are ashamed of their lower being. They figure, if we only see a little mushroom cap peeking out that it's their pants fault. Usually it's TDS.

Which leads to the heart of my theory. Zippers are standard on most pants, even women's pants. They were designed to aid in the wearing and removal of pants. They are not a ninja door for your purple helmeted soldier. I try not to sneak willy past anything metal with teeth.

I suppose you could say it takes bravery to put your rose coloured tree of defilement in harms way for the sake of modesty and social order, but aren't we just making excuses for more confining societal rules about public exposure? I say what makes it indecent is that other people refuse to look! Look what I have, dammit! Look on it and tremble!

So, fairies pee through the zipper, men yank and spray.

Koan

A "pagan" asked Buddha, "With words, with silence, will you tell me (the Way)?" Buddha silently kept meditating. The "pagan" bowed and thanked the Buddha, saying, "With the compassion you have cleared away the clouds of my mind and have made me enter into the awakening." After he left, Ananda asked the Buddha what he had attained. The Buddha said, "A good horse runs even a shadow of the whip."

Unpredictable Life

In accordance with divine providence, I have withdrawn from worldy issues and will only speak in zen koans.

Nothing is true or false to a dead man.

Women Are Stupid

Ug! John McCain picked a silly woman as his running mate. That is so dumb. Women are weak and confused. She'll only get everything all screwed up with her woman hormones and bleeding week. I didn't bother to read her name or whatever else about her, she's a woman, and therefor not qualified.

The only thing that makes sense is that maybe he wanted someone to clean the Oval Office. I bet she starts crying during a debate when Joe Biden asks her a tough question or calls her out on some idiot woman remark she makes.

I mean, seriously! Would you want a WOMAN running the country? Just read the blogs of some of the ugly women who comment on this and other of my posts. They're crazy! They sleep in bags of shit and shave their backs. No thanks.

So, John McCain, I hope this is a joke. I hope you're just doing this to play a prank on her cause she's a dumb girl. I hope you get some old white guy like Joe Biden, or an Oreo Cookie like Obama. I can just picture it now, this woman's first speech:

"Oh. I'm... I... I... Booo hooo hoo hooooooo. I'm a woman and I can't take care of myself and I need a man for sexual pleasure!"

Oh GOD!

Let Me Tell You Something About Hillary Clinton

You Democrats made a HUGE fucking mistake. Even I was impressed by her last night. Instead, you nominated a stuck up, paranoid, anti-American, bitter, childish, ego driven dickhead and let him put Joey Beans on the ticket. Obama is a liar, a con artist, a stuffed shirt, a puppet and a nobody.

Hillary would have wasted no time going after McCain. Obama spent months whining. You can see he's over his head and doesn't belong. Look, I understand what he represents and I know he's a change from Bush. Unfortunately, for most Americans he's not an acceptable change. Hillary would have been. Would have. Her cries for unity underscore why she is better than Barack Obama. He won and he still didn't want unity.

He and Clinton are almost identical in policy and ideology. He's an ass. She's not. She can work with people. He's a spoiled little brat. And he's not all that sharp, despite his Finishing School Education and his career wife.

Feel free to tow the party line and vote for him of you want, that way I'll get to make fun of you for doing it.

For the Kids

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Get the Disco Call Going (waddup DNC!)

The Democratic National Convention began like a wet fart moments ago, to empty seats and cat calls. The two biggest developments:

Wolf Blitzer rocking the Janet Jackson Headset Mic. Maybe this is for when Wolf, overcome by his liberal hormones, starts moonwalking to Fleetwood Mac. I mean, who are you??? Really, who IS Wolf Blitzer??? He's a tool, that's what he is. Jon Stewart is backing me on this. He called him a gerbil.

John McCain busted out Daddy Yankee at a photo op. Now that's ethnic. How does this relate to the DNC? Simple. It made CNN. If CNN is soooo bored with the DNC that they cut to this? THIS???

Oh, you pussies are going to eat caca cake for another 4 years! I love it.

Joe Biden

So, I bet all of you want to know more about this week's savior, Joe Biden. You may think you know, but I have the real dirt. I checked his voting record, his driver's report and his delicious You Tube dance. So what sort of policy does Biden support? Let's take a look.

- Joe Biden does not support Global Warming. He thinks Global Warming is a bad idea and doesn't understand why we don't just ban Global Warming. He says Global Warming is causing crime rates to increase, and children to get hooked on 'fuzz', the new drug he thinks exists.

- Joe Biden is in favor of using cheap cologne to blind women.

- Joe Biden does not support child abuse, but says it's okay to give five firm spanks, followed by mockery.

- Joe Biden supports marriage for married people, or those who wish to get married, as long as someone else decides it's okay.

- Joe Biden likes Roe v. Wade, but would restore the original 'director's cut' which includes partial and full birth abortion along with forced infant suicide. But, he says he doesn't beieve in it personally, just for people who want that sort of thing in places where it's okay.

- Joe Biden's attitude towards other nations is as follows, "Everyone's okay. Just make sure we all follow the rules and then I won't have to decide anything.

- Joe Biden plans on instituting a seventy-five day work week, followed by time to bury the dead. This will fix and then destroy the economy for good.

- Joe Biden likes Riverdance, but would never admit that in places like Idaho.

- Joe Biden is in favor of higher taxes on the wealthy, to give more government money to the wealthy.

- Joe Biden likes good looking, articulate black men. They're okay. It's those 7/11 robbing blacks he doesn't care for.

- Joe Biden has lots of experience being bought off by special interest groups.

- Joe Biden would release all prisoners that 'seem nice enough'.

- Joe Biden is in favor of pandering to blue collar sentiments from his gigantic house which he built in a nature reserve, on top of a nest of endangered owls.

So, here's a little song I wrote for Joe Biden and his awesome fix it all super great future as the Vice President:

Joe, Joe, Joe Biden.
You take psyllicibin.
Your legs are long,
And your hair was once brown.

You're a wet dream for me.
JOE.
BIDEN!

You Can't Trust the Commies

Secretly, at night, I wished for the Cold War to come back. Please, Jesus, make the Russians evil again. I prayed for it. It's not as sick as you think. Wait. Yeah, it is.

1. I like the idea of global nuclear arsenals. I like the idea of not knowing who's going to pop off and use a nuke. Nuke nuke nuke. Nuke 'em! Taliban gining you shit? Nuke 'em. French being snotty? Nuke 'em. China getting a bit uppity? Nuke 'em. Or, at least have that valid threat.

2. I want to see reruns of War Games. Great movie. Does not stand the test of time though. Don't watch.

3. More secret aeroplanes. Sweet. Now we'll finally get that US flying saucer we've been craving.

4. Validate the Olympics. It sucks that we've been beating the Russians for like 20 years now and not getting a wiff of awesomeness because they're not a superpower anymore.

5. Second Sino-Russian War!!!! China and Friends versus Russian and... well, no one. Even the French hate the Russians. Take that Vladdy! Take your stupid basketball players back.

6. defending Poland is awesome.

7. New 21st century cold war strategy games. Jeez, I am so sick of playing 1991's hottest war titles.

But most of all, it just seems right. Sure, Russia is in the twilight of its career, but that doesn't mean it won't be fun to kick their Red Army Asses from here to Kuala Lampour and back. Beat the Russians! Beat Beat the Ru-shins!

Don't get all huffy about the suffering of the stupid babies and crap like that either. That's why I want to fight Russia, to stop tht shit, yo.

So, slap a flag on your ass, question Obama's patriotism, and get Jingo for the new war.

Piss In Public Restrooms

It's that time of year again for the American/Armenian Piss In Public Restrooms drive. This is the week in which we encourage all people from America AND Armenia to piss in the public restrooms, and not on the streets, in other people's yards, or from roof tops.

As Americans, it's our job to show the rest of the world that we can do it. Yes we can. So, pee in the can, the publican, the lue, the wc, pee where you oughta, not on monuments or bridges or Subway Sandwich Restaurants.

Do NOT pee at the counter at CVS. Do not pee on some guy's mop at McDonalds. Do not pee in the food at your next office function. Pee where it counts, in a Public Lav, you shit.

So, all week long, please drain the weasel (or shake the dew off your fern, if you're a girly) INSIDE the public restrooms.

Next year we'll work on actually getting it in the toilet.

Reader Response

Recently, I did an interview with a Barack Obama lackey from CNN. My readers had some very strong opinions.

"No way, dude. Like, Barack is peace and love and John Bush McCain is war. He's a war veteran. War sucks and so do mean people. Barack is so inspiring and cool. I wish he was my dad so pot would be legal."

"Sen. Obama has been treated unfairly by the media because he is black. John McCain gets all the good press. They make fun of Obama constantly. Those Jewish shiesters want a pound of flesh from him. Down with the New Jeruselem! Up with Obababad!"

"John McCain won't support my lucrative abortion clinic."

"This whole election thingy is stupid. I'm tired of watching stuff about politics. Just get Bush out. That's all I care about. Ellect the freaking Ayatollah for all I care. Anyone is better than stupid Bush."

"John McCain? More of the same! Boo! McCain is so stupid. He's a womanizer and a drunk. Obama is practically a Blessed Angel Being, or maybe a non-denominational stalwart of non-ethics-based caring and love."

"I would never vote for John McCain because of my criminal record and lack of citizenship."

"Mr. Senator Sir Obama, PhD, is a kick ass candidate. He understands people and donates his whole paycheck to fight the causes I support. He is the first non corrupt politician ever, since Bill Clinton. He's black. I've got a good feeling about that."

McCain the Pain`

Recently, when asked what he thought about Barack Obama, John McCain said the following:

"It is obvious that Sen. Obama is functioning at a 2 and 1/2 year old level which is an IQ equivilant of about 38 (on the high end.)

Perhaps a well rounded program with some ABA, positive reinforcement, medications, a behavior management plan and several beatings daily with a baseball bat will help.

Never blame the child. There is no such thing as a bad child, only bad behaviors. (And DNA.) All can be gteatly improved with early intestive intervention. He may even be able to get a job in a sheltered workship if we act quickly enough. If not we can just put him down like a dog. (He won’t feel anything, I promise.)

He just acts smart.(ass) I am smart."

Maybe all of you liberals are right. He sounds as dumb as George Bush.

Top Three Olympic Moments of 2008

#3. The United States versus China in Basketball. After making some microwave popcorn and a nice cool drink, I settled in with this event. I slept for about 2/3s of the entire game. The other time I spent eating and taking a dump.

#2. Men's Cycling. Over 150 miles of bike riding fun. I read one of those Harry Dresden books from cover to cover. It wasn't that good, but I did have a nice half our snooze. Plus, cocktail shrimp fried in butter and garlic. Major gas!

#1. Michael Phelps. I made a promise that for every gold Phelps won, I would donate an hour of my time to playing City of Heroes on the computer. Let's just say that it's all about charity. While I slept through most of Phelps' victories, it was the sleep of the vicorious American.

This is the glory of the Olympic Games. All day naps with sportslike background noise, snacks and self righteous posturing over games that most of us don't even consider real sports. The pagentry! The... the... other countries. The IOC! Women's Beach Volleyball.

Spain

You have to give the Spanish Basketball Team a pass on that 'Asian Eye' picture thingy. Mrs. Dr. Murk is Asian, so I should be offended. But I'm not. They're Spaniards! What did you expect?

A Spanish guy walks into a bar carrying a piece of shit in his hand. The bartender is disgusted. The Spaniard says, "I know! I almost stepped in it!"

This Spanish guy goes to a whore house with five bucks and asks for the special. The madame leads him to a dark room. He emerges 15 minutes later. Another patron asks him how it went. "Well," he said, "She put whipped cream and a cherry on my dong. Then she started to eat it off!" "How was it?" the other man asked. "Tasted the same as it always does, I guess."

How many babies does a Spaniard have? Depends on how quick Interpol catches him.

How do you make a Spanish guy smile? Pay him for the blow job.

How come Spanish guys don't ride unicycles? They spend all their time raping old ladies.

How many Spaniards does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Depends on how deep you want it.

Why don't Spaniards take baths? Because they're fucking monkeys!

Where's the best place to find a Spanish watch? Up a goat's ass.

View From the Palatial Estate

Carbon Dreadlow

By now, you all know my fascination with director Carbon Dreadlow, especially his Phenomena series. True to form, here is the latest:

A Nostalgic Orange

In the 1980s, a shopping mall was a dark place. No, these malls weren't the soaring glass wonders of today, merely a collection of stores in one place connected by giant tunnel hallways. In the center of these majestic aisles of capitalism stood the kiosk. Places like Earing Hut, Magic Cookie, T-Shirt Heaven and The Hat Rack.

But the best kiosk of all was the mighty Orange Julius. Take one blender, a quart of orange juice, a cup of half and half, ice and a half a cup of sugar. Turn on blender. Drink. Ha ha. Ha ha. It's a frost creamsicle in a cup! Genius! Plus, hot dogs if you want them.

The Orange Julius is steeped in mystery. Something happens to the contents when mixed that makes the whole greater than the sum of the parts. This is something which I've poured a ton of money into, attempting to crack the secrets of the dairy/citrus coallation and the sugar ratio. I have yet to crack the code, but I've come close. The benefit has been some of the incidental discoveries along the way.

Some Orange Julius research facts:

- Jesus did not drink wine at the last supper. He requested an Orange Julius. Unfortunately, there were no Orange Julius stands at the time and they made him a fig/goatmilk concoction, after wich he turned to Judas and said "Quickly. Do what you must do." The dissapointment was too great.

- O.J. Simpson, burdened by carrying the monicker of the divine nectar, killed his wife.

- It is not the 'orange', but the 'julius' that provides the ram in the battery of the drink.

- Milk cannot be combined with most beverages.

- People with few or no teeth can drink an Orange Julius.

- Sugar is necessary. Splenda is SATAN!

- General George Patton conquored in the name of Orange Julius before he was ordered to cut it out and win the damn war, which he refused to do until he was guaranteed a lifetime supply of Orange Julius. He died shortly thereafter. God cannot love a man with unlimited Orange Julius. See you in hell, Goerge.

- The first cure for Siamese Twins was to have an Orange Julius and deal with it.

- It is proper and preferred to use a straw when drinking an Orange Julius. The leavings of, ice, diluted sugar, cream and orange juice, reffered to a 'schlag', is better than any drink in the world except for a fresh Orange Julius.

- The French 'Jiolios Orange' failed due to stupidity, not the drink.

- Hamlet's last line was originally, "Alack, I am removed of my Orange Julius!" is frequently ommited due to time constraints. This is largely considered Shakespear's greatest failing, sometime corrected by dropping Hamlet's queer soliloquies.

- Orange Julius won the WBA Heavyweight Championship in 1983, but was later stripped of the title due to blatant over-awesomeness.

To learn more about Orange Julius, go fuck yourself.

Barackity Brak

I recently had an opportunity to interview Jerry Pocket of CNN (The Barack Network) about the polling information on his show.

Murk: Hi Jerry.

Jerry: HA!

Murk: So, you have quite a bit of polling information on your network.

Jerry: Yes. If you look at the numbers, as of last week, we have Barack Obama in the lead by at least double digits.

Murk: Uh. Leading what?

Jerry: Everything.

Murk: Everything?

Jerry: That's right. Except in situations where leading is bad. Example, four out of five Americans say John McCain is leading in the age department.

Murk: Well, he is. So 1 out of five thinks Barack is older?

Jerry: That's according to the data. It's more likely that the 1 in 5 represents a small majority who become dumbfounded when they hear how awesome Barack Obama is. Everyone is doing it.

Murk: So you have Obama leading in every poll that favors him?

Jerry: Except the ones that don't, like in the Idiot States. Montana, Alabama, and a few others. But people in those states wanna vote for Jesus and marry their sisters! I mean... eheh hehe, how reliable are they?

Murk: So, because they are stupid, we should ignore their vote?

Jerry: 5 out of 5 Americans agree with that.

Murk: You mean all of them?

Jerry: Technically, yes.

Murk: How large was your sample for these polls?

Jerry: Oh. Huge. Massive. Everyone.

Murk: You can't poll everyone.

Jerry: We don't have to. It was obvious real quick that Obama Barack is now president. 105% of Americans know for certain that Barack Obamaq will tuck them in at night, via live broadcast. The numbers are over the top, but absolutely true.

Murk: Surely there has to be some dissention...

Jerry: Oh, like the Klan? Or that redneck who votes for Jesus and thinks he's Hitler?

Murk: I was thinking Republicans.

Jerry: Right. ZING! You've got a point. Republicans like war because innocent people die. They hate the innocent. Pol Pot. Republican. Mitt Romney. Judas. Baby killers.

Murk: I'm a bit concerned that your polling might be biased.

Jerry: Not according to our polls. It's easy to see that people rely on CNN for their truth news true true polls about Barack O'Awesome for President, no Dick Cheney McCainey! Ha ha. True.

Murk: Could you explain the demographics of your polls?

Jerry: Well, we set up a hotline. It's advertised on all of Obama's sites. Call in and vote early. You can vote like fifty million times. Besides, the Bush Administration sucks! ROCK THE VOTE LITTLE PEOPLE!!!!

Murk: Didn't you guys have Howard Dean ahead last time?

Jerry: Living in the past! Wake up. It's a Barack Obama kinda day! WE WIN!!!!

Murk: In one of the questions, you ask who would do a better job managing the economy...

Jerry: Obama.

Murk: You also ask who got an 'A' on his third grade spelling final.

Jerry: Obama.

Murk: And what's this one about who would win in a dog sled race.

Jerry: Obama.

Murk: You're pandering.

Jerry: Obama.

Murk: Now you sound like Malach.

Jerry: Obama.


Unfortunately, at this point the interview was concluded in order to show a heartfelt victory montage for Barack Obama.

Reviews

I asked some of my celebrity buddies to review my site. Here are the results:

"Dr. Murk is okay."
- Jon Lithgow

"I love this blog! Who wrote it?"
- Meg Ryan

"Better than coke and ludes."
- Robert Downey, Jr.

"I'm just glad my son is not gay."
- Robert Downey, Sr.

"It's an affront to censorship, morals and public decency."
- Roman Polanski

"When do I get to bark like a dog?"
- Jane Seymore

"He told me my face looked like an old brown vynil couch."
- Robert Redford

"Magical family fun."
- Charles Manson

"His poop tastes like chilli."
- Wynona Ryder

"I take him black with one sugar."
-Sean Connery

"Gggggllllleee"
-Chris Farley

"I'll never understand how one white boy can ruin so much progress. Can someone rub out my thigh cramp?"
- Oprah Winfrey

"I was in some cool movies."
- John Cusack

"Four score and seven years ago, Murk Rocks!"
- Abraham Lincoln

"Down. And to the left."
-Kevin Costner

"Every so often a man comes along and pisses on your shit and calls it baby. Dr. Murk is that man."
- Lindsay Lohan

"I seen his beans. NARSTY!"
- Elijah Wood

"This blog is so good, I'll never read anything else."
- Stevie Wonder

Snow Patrol

Don't eat the yellow snow.

Hydrogen Power

Hydrogen is the most basic element in the universe. Hydrogen is the base element for energy transfer. It is the most abundant element in the universe.

Hydrogen is clean. Stars use Hydrogen produce energy.

Hydrogen is available outside of our planet in the Interstellar Medium.

Hydrogen can be fused, making Helium and releasing energy.

Hydrogen can be used as a propellant, and/or be ignited as a fuel.

Hydrogen is lighter than Oxygen and Nitrogen, the most abundant elements in Earth’s atmosphere. Hydrogen filled balloons can pull heavy objects into space. Space is filled with Hydrogen.

Natural or Universal Forces such as wind, tidal, solar, geothermal, and gravitational forces can generate motion which, in turn, can be used to isolate Hydrogen using the electromagnetic properties of metals and fluids. The Hydrogen, in turn, can be used as an accelerant, or even a combustible fuel, producing water and oxygen as a byproduct.

Also, Hydrogen is a useful element. Space travel will give us access to Hydrogen in its pure form. Once access to the massive, universal supply of Hydrogen in the interstellar medium is established, we will be free of energy constraints.

Advertising to Idiots

There's gold in your television. Unfortunately, you are not a gold miner, you are the gold mine. Face sad fact, friends. You wake up, go to work or school to prepare to go to work, then you leave work with paper which you can exchange at the company store for goods and services.

You can't kill a deer or raise crops. You are utterly dependent on commercial entities to feed you, clothe you, bathe you and help you live through it all. For this, you are worked mercilessly. It's a new level of serfdom. It's state sanctioned slavery.

You can't pack up and go into the woods. You are hooked into the system. Your choices are limited. You can play the game and hope to make enough money to buy out of the wage system, or find a way to subvert the system.

As an agent of the system, I must explain to you that the odds don't favor you at all. Then again, I am part of the system now. I only tell you this to make you feel worse about your existence. I want you to feel empty and alone. I want you scared. I want to taste the salt of your tears.

I'm on top. I'm in cotrol. You are not. I am. That's simple. Even as you read this, notice how you react. You want to call bullshit, but you wonder for a second if I can help. I can, but I won't. For a second you wanted to think you didn't care, but now you want to call bullshit again. You are pathetic.

Yes, you.

You still don't understand why you can't win.

Again, I can help, but I won't.

Okay, maybe a little. If you want out, I can tell you what the door looks like.

Pay attention to your thoughts. Watch where your thoughts go. See what you do to avoid thinking at all. Get a notebook. Write down unedited thoughts. What habbits do you fall back on? What makes you mad? Who do you dislike and why?

Now, swallow the bullet and admit you are lying to yourself. You are killing yourself. It's not our fault, but see it. You are mad at yourself. You are mad that you have to work all the time and that you're not allowed to play all day. Inside, there is a petulant child crying over a broken toy.

Oh. You didn't want that sort of help?

Alright.

You are so awesome and everything is fine. That better? You are so cool and everyone envies you. The world respects you. You are valuable. You are unique, special. Horray for you.

Ahhh. Now that it's about selfish you, do you feel better?

Why are you reading this? Why do you come here?

Isn't there something better you could be doing right now?

BATMAN: The Review

The Darl Knight
a matinee review.

Going to see a movie for five bucks costs less than it does to drive there. So, I broke my own rule and went to see an overhyped movie in the cinema. I was entertained for just over two hours. That's $2.75 an hour. Not counting small soda at 3.50. Don't ask me why but soda always tastes better at the movies.

The venue was a small, out of the way place calle Flagship Cimenas in New Bedford MA. Stadium seating, middle middle row. Not too crowded.

Now the bad news.

Although the movie was not terrible, the writing was shakey. It's not the plot itself that causes problems, it's the dialogue. Preachy. Faux new age enlightened crap that has no place in a Batman movie. Batman seems more of a gravely voiced philosopher than a crime fighter, that is, when he's not trading one liners with everyone on camera.

Even Heath Ledger's slightly remarkable performance is marred by a few clunkers. Speaking of, let's put to rest the notion that this movie lead to his overdose. No. Unless there's something I missed, he's merely acting insane, not going insane. He's in control of his craft. If anything, drugs made him nutty enough to pull off a Joker, complete with stolen affectations from Jack Nicholson's version (the incessant lip smacking for one).

Is it a good movie? Mmmmm. Okay. Worth a matinee price. Sure. A masterpiece?

Well, superfriends, I regret to inform you that this is yet another in the long line of superhero movies that jumped under the bar. Having Just watched Batman Begins two nights ago, I can honestly say I liked that film better. It's unfair to compair a sequel to the original, but with all the promises, that's where I was lead. And disappointed.

The Run Down:

Christian Bale is flat. The costumes are great except the bat suit. Ledger is successful, but not eternal. The plot is jumbled, loose and based on tricks you see coming a mile away. It's gritty at times, but spoiled by lukewarm sentiments about liberty, freedom, heroism and life that just don't work. This movie seemed like it had guts at some point, but was neutered by the censors and stuffed with lessons and meaning.

In short, it gets a 'bah'.

Well, now time to wait for the Watchmen.

The Lost Gnome

Interview with an Athiest

Murk: So, you're an athiest?

Athiest: That's right.

M: When did you realize this?

A: Well, it's hard to say. I've always been somewhat skeptical. I guess what tore it was the appalling lack of evidence for a higher power.

M: Lack of evidence... what about the complexity of the universe and how its laws are inviolable? Who put the laws there?

A: It certaintly wasn't a higher power. (laughs)

M: What evidence do you have that it isn't a higher power?

A: Oh! You made a mistake. You can't prove a negative. Can you prove Mickey Mouse didn't put the laws in place?

M: Mickey Mouse is a cartoon.

A: Exactly. So is this fictional higher power. A human creation made up to give humans something to blame when things go wrong. Designed to provide false hope so humans don't strive for change. Opiate of the masses.

M: You want me to prove God isn't Mickey Mouse?

A: No. It's just... okay, I was being glib-

M: I think God would agree with that.

A: No, stop. You're not addressing the issue here.

M: What issue?

A: That god is a hoax used to control weak minds.

M: No, I think that's television.

A: What?

M: Well, no one listens to the Church anymore, so they use television to control us.

A: Who?

M: Them.

A: Who is this fictional 'them'.

M: Well, you brought them up.

A: I did not.

M: Then who is using God to control us?

A: You're missing the point.

M: No, I've got it. Aliens are using God to control us, and the Church is now using TV and therefore the Church has become 'them'.

A: Okay. Show me one tangible piece of evidence for the existence of God.

M: Here.

A: A rock?

M: The processes and resulting composition of that particular piece of granite is so complex that the combination of all human minds and all computers cannot recreate this exact rock. In fact, they cannot create any ammount of granite. Yet this blind, random universe you claim to live in created millions of tons of it.

A: It happened that way because when the universe began...

M: I want hard evidence that the universe had a beginning.

A: What?

M: Maybe the universe is eternal.

A: No reasonable scientist thinks that.

M: No reasonable theologian thinks their isn't a higher power.

A: Science is based in provable fact.

M: Science is based on observational information which is flawed.

A: You have a better idea? We've used science to create tangible results, like nuclear fission, microwaves, radar, space travel. Science works repeatedly and experiments can produce consitent results.

M: Oh. Results. Hmmmmm.

A: What?

M: Well, what if science provides the results and God provides inspiration, comfort and the framework to get results. Science is explanation of HOW to get results. God is the explanation of WHY consistent results can be achieved. Human beings used science to discover the laws of the universe. What put those laws in place?

A: Science is working on that. One day there will be an answer.

G: Can I believe in God until then?

S: You can believe whatever you want. It doesn't make it true.

God: That depends on the definition of true.

Science: Semantics.

God: Well, humans use words to communicate, so everything comes down to semantics. By your reasoning, truth cannot be found in words.

Satan: Let's take a break.

God: So, science is a human contruction based in words, which contain semantic arguements with flawed observational 'truths'.

Satan: Don't put quotes around truth. You make it seem like my truth is less than yours.

God: It's just words, right? What's the harm? Science sucks and God rocks.

Satan: Now you're just being obtuse.

God: Why do you care so much about this? If you don't believe in God then fine. Why does it bother you?

Science: Because you're spreading ignorance.

Gosh: I'm not. Personally. I'm just having a conversation.

Shaman: No. You're trying to tell people things that aren't true. You're confusing them.

Glok: No. It's a simple thing. God exists. Accept it or don't.

Socks: No.

Guards: Fine. But don't tell me what I can and can't believe.

Sars: Just stop teaching it in the schools.

Gurk: I'm not.

Arts: Not you specifically...

Murk: Okay, everybody out. I want a word alone with Athiest.

Athiest: You drugged my drink didn't you?

Murk: Yeah.

Athiest: Asshole.

Murk: Shut up, this is the best part....

Bordering on Awesome

I've had this thing hanging about my palatial estate for a few years. It's kind of like an arial servant or something. It's way out back past the corn field and the old well, near the access road I built for the servants. I pass it y whildst riding my tractor from time to time.

One day, I stopped and asked its name.

"Rock Hudson," it said.

"Now stop that," I said, "What's your real name?"

"If I were to give you my real name," it said, "Then you'd be at liberty to command me."

"Indeed," I said. "I'm guessing you won't tell me."

"Nope," it said.

"Twenty questions, then?" I offered.

"Sure," it said.

"Liberal?" I asked.

"Yes," it said.

"Spectacles?" I asked.

"Yes," it said.

"Bachelor?" I asked.

"No," it said.

"Ghost of the Angry Veteran," I said.

"Fuck," it said.

"Go wash my car," I told it. So, you see...

Liberal. Spectacle. Not Bachelor. = Angry Veteran.

So

I was walking though the Hindustani Section of Westport, looking for bargains as I'm want to do on Wednesdays, and who should I see sitting there in the central tile mosaic square? You know, the Square with the Seven Fountains and three story water clock?

I SAW the Angry Piper. He was playing chess against one of the natives, and he wore his dour face of distracted hatred.

"Dearest friend!" I shouted, sweeping away all the pieces on the board and slipping the native a crisp dime. "You look glum, little guy. What's wrong?"

"First," he said, extending his middle finger, "that's for ruining one of the finest chess games I've ever played. Second," here he cleverly held up his second middle finger, "My sheep got into a radish patch and now all of my newly woven kilts smell like cocktail sauce."

"Delicious," I said, "But I see your points. Do they burn?"

"Aye," he said, "Twas a good crop of strong black angus radishes. They burn indeed. But it's not all bad," he said, donning what would never pass for a smile, even in the Crimea. "My hut was robbed by robbers who plundered my goods, ate my food, and soiled my best woman. They left the wine and ale."

"That's good," I said.

"Napes," he shook his head, "They pissed in 'em. And they shat in the bread. Not on top of it. No. No. They tuck it way inside, third bite you get cold turd in the back of your throat and the doctor says he wants to wire your jaw shut in case of thrush."

"Look," I said, sitting on his lap, "I'm not an optimist, but I'm not quite a fatalist. So when life gets bad I keep one thing in mind."

"What's that then?" he asked, brightening up.

"You always have it worse than me," I responded.

"Cheers you up?" he asked.

"It does," I said.

"Alright," he stood and placed me on my feet, "I'll buy you an iced cream to eat and you can watch me get Scottish Carnival Style Drunk."

"I've got a few hours to kill," I admitted, "Can I rap you about the head with my cane?"

"Honest you can," he smiled.

And so, my shopping curtailed for the moment, we set out. It was two hours before I told him the population, being largely Muslim, did not serve alcohol. There were many a happy misunderstanding in between.

"I shoulda learnt my lesson," he said. "First," he said, "Never go on a bender with a sober man in tow. And second," second middle finger, "...go fuck yourself."

I waved as he sulked his way off into the sunset, growing smaller as my story ends, and I thought to myself, Murk old bean, you are the world's greatest asshole.

It made me smile.

Job Interviews

So, I decided to go on a few job interviews. Did I need a job? No. But I figured it would pass the time. So, I came up with some great one liners to try out when being interviewed.

Q: So, what would you say is your best quality?

"Taste. I taste fantastic."

"I don't steal like the other people."

"Cable TV?"

"I'm Batman."

"My best quality is better than my good quality, and much better than my worst quality."

"My tireless ability to sabotage everyone."

"I burp names backwards. Lwohsa!"

Q: What is your greatest weakness?

"My volcanic temper, why?"

"Magnets. They make me weak."

"I get caught up in the sodomy thing a lot..."

"Zoltar has no weaknesses."

"You."

"I can't paint portraits very well."

"I refure to towel. Air Dry Only."

Q: Why do you want to work for this company?

"I'm looking for that special someone."

"Free lube."

"I'm planning an insurance scam."

"The Doctor said I could."

"So I can prove the parole board wrong."

"Spicy Taco Fridays."

Q: Why did you leave your last job?

"It was crowded."

"I left? SHIT!"

"I couldn't hide all the bodies."

"I spit on the Boss's kid."

"I got FIRED!!! WHOOOO!!!!"

"Oh. I should have asked them, eh?"

"I had bees."

"Men's Room Fight Club."

Q: When can you start?

"As soon as you stop."

"No no no. Only if you tell me I'm hired first."

"I can't. Makes this kinda pointless I guess."

"As soon as the meth wears off, Cochese."

"That's a secret. I'll tell you for a dollar."

Death of a Colony

The Grill. Man's (occasionally woman's) domain. The Grill sits on the patio or porch or deck outside, waiting. It calls to the very soul of a man. This man.

I have a Weber Genesis with a two parallel pipe burner setup, with ignition flow, one push start, heavy iron glazed grate, flavor enhancing super V drip distributors, a grease trap and and a drip bin. It's not the classic brushed stainless steel, but it's a black beast and has no cold spots. I've had it for 4 years and it looks brand new.

I had a Charbroil once. Once. That piece of crap did it's job but rusted through. The Weber is THE Grill. And I have the third smallest of the brand.

So, imagine this. Mrs. Dr. Murk wants burgers and dogs. We always open the season with burgers and dogs. I brush off the grate, heat the bad boy up, and then use the first run of burgers and dogs to re-season the Grill. Much like a good Wok, a Grill should never be extensively cleaned on the inside, just brushed up a bit. Sure, you clean the grease trap and catch pans, but animal fat acts like a polish (protecting from rust) and a thin, non stick barrier for cooking. When heated, animal fat is detoxified. Much like cooking oil and olive oil, it really doesn't rot or go bad. If heated, it's cleaned.

So, I go out to the Grill (way too late in the season, I admit, but still 5 months left) and open it. A quick brushing, clean the traps, ignite and let it self clean by closing the top. After two minutes, temp is up a but. I'm curious and so I open for a look.

I see the nests. Three Paper Wasp nests, now on full alert and scrambling fighters for action.

Oh no, you just fucked up, I though. No, not me. Them. I closed the lid and cranked and got her up to 450 degrees. Two escaped. Both stung me. Mother-fuckers. I back away. The escapees (remember, wasps can sting and sting and sting and not die) keep banging into the Grill trying to save their kin. Try little bastards! TRY!

Smoke and the smell of rendering animal juices floods the air. It's that smell when a neighbor is grilling a feast, and you have your windows open and you BEG for an invite. Oh... and my two enemies still try relentlessly to save their friends while I listen to a few small but satisfying pops and wasps drop into the fire.

Five minutes passes.

I open the lid. I knock the golf ball shaped nests into the flames as the wasp twins look on, baffled. The pheromones say attack. The smoke says run. The instinct says HOME IS BURNING.

I let them live.

I have Koi and Frogs aplenty in my little pond behind the Grill. The Koi are fed nothing. Sometimes, a piece of meat or some steak juices. As I hear the Frogs call out to me tonight, I know the other two wasps will be found and eaten. No home to go to. Patient frogs. Descendants of the Great Wasp Killer Uncle Freddy, who devoured an entire nest while I watched during my first night on that deck.

Life is fragile, and sweet.

Happy Father's Day

Papa Murk is an extraordinary man. I know his mind and I know what he did for me and my brother. Mama Murk did the same. They both continue.

Papa Murk's story is one of pain, despair and redemtion. I can't express in words my pride when I think of my Dad. He taught me things that have kept me from running off into the wood. He know what I suffer now, as he has suffered it before.

He was strick, but we were wild kids. We make him proud now and he tells us. To hear that from one of the ultimate warriors in life makes me feel superhuman, and humbled.

He almost died and came back for us (the family and has survived for over a decade on sheer will and faith in a higher plan. I follow his (and my mother's example) every day. I live in the moment (I TRY) and I live to make them proud.

But my father and I have fought tooth and nail over many things. I'm stubborn and he's stubborn and we don't always agree. But we always come back to being friends and supporters. I admit, he was right almost every time we disagreed and could have saved myself a lot of grief.

My Dad outranks any dad on the plannet. Not all sons will say that and some will even blame their fathers.

Dad, I never blamed you. We had no money, but we traveled, had an RV, cool cars, free repairs and tons of advice. We went to private schools while Mom worked and Dad suffered something he and I only truly understand and now we compare and heal each other.

I love you Dad and I'm proud of you.

Okay, now the rest of you suckbags need to bow to my Dad and get off your fat asses and tell your dads what the mean. My Dad lost his before he got to tell him. Don't make that mistake. Don't be stubborn dicks. Father's day is not about presents, but recognizing the trials and pain parents suffer for their kids. Fuck you people and your self centered pity and blame.

Give gratitude to Dads!

Go Choke Yourselves

I've come to realize that all men are stupid and all women are insane. Discuss.




Okay, the challenge is to prove me wrong. Use the comments section and I'll set up a poll. Look to the right.

The Boss

I am the boss of me, but have yu ever had a boss?

Then this is for you.

The Good Boss: Whether a pain in the ass or a civil role model, the godd boss gets the job done, corrects problems efficiently and with proper emotional control, and takes the heat for how the business runs.

Nobody is really a good boss anymore. There's something bout the old addage that management cannot be taught. Unfortunately, bosses seem to get jobs for sitting in a classroom learning how things never really work in the real world. Very few independent bosses/owners are popping up from the school of sink or swim in the real workplace. More and more bad bosses are out there.

1. They are taught to delegate, but not to trust.

2. They are taught to foster independence, but blame for failure due to independent thinking.

3. They are taught to be proactive, but not when to leave a good thing going.

4. They are taught to demand accountability, but not how to accept the responsibility for their own mistakes.

5. They are taught finance, but not how to understand the intagibles of cash flow.

6. They are taught to rationalize, but they are ruled by emotions.

The end for now.

Crabon Dreadlow Presents

Carbon Dreadlow is a complicated man. His videos frighten me a bit:

Cue the End Credits

I can't do it. I can't bring myself to vote for John McCain.

He's too old.

He's too entrenched.

He's 1980s in a 2008 bikini.

I cannot vote for that thing.

Maybe Obama has that international flair to get us out of this mess. Maybe his charisma will work on our estranged foreign friends. Maybe he really won't give a shit about the soap box and the pork barrel. Maybe he really has good intentions and will try to make good.

All that is good and right about being a moral and fiscal conservative has been perverted by politics.

Will I vote Democrat? Hell no.

Sidelines.

Yup. Wuss out. These are not my leaders. They're ruining my country for what? A job. Some fame. A little power?

Where is my fiddle?

Consumer ZProtest from Chris Morris

Chris Morris is my friend. He asksn for very little.

"Sorry for the Interruption

It's Christopher Morris here with a consumer complaint. I would ask that you post this on your blogs or send via email, even though it is a local issue.

First, the good. That's a sentence fragment, but who cares. The Hyundai Motor Company makes an awesome line of cars. They are super reliable, have a great 100,000 mile drivetrain warantee with a great extended warantee to boot for a small sum. They work hard to get the financing at a great rate and easy payments. Their dealers are typical high pressure, negitiate until your teeth hurt salesmen, but come on! That's half the fun. AND their service departments are superior. The fight for warrantee work and give you a loaner car and call every day with updates.

Now, the bad news. Rick Torres Empire Hyundai:

Company DetailsLocation: Fall River, MAFounders: Richard R. Torres, 41
Website: www.empirehyundai.com
Year Started: January 2000
Initial Investment: $200K
Turned a Profit: 2000
First Million: 2002
2002 Sales: $18.4M
2006 Sales: $60.7MNumber of Employees:
Day 1: 9
2006: 85
2007: 111*

Awesome company. Great service department, initially. Four years ago, the let go of some of the service managers and installed a few real hard asses. We fought tooth and nail. Then, when we had a drivetrain problem and a ball joint problem, they tried to screw us.

Background. My father has worked in the automotive service industry for 30 years, with Goodyear, Getty, Moe's Alignment senter (owner, operator) and for Henney's Towing and repair and Glassman Auto (one of the most respected car dealerships and repair facilities in all of the Bristol Area. I had Glassman do the 60,000 mile madatory replacement of the timing belt, water pump and tensioners. ALL Hyundai Certified parts, with an ASE certified mechanic and a full itemization. Their reputation is known in three states as a quality shop.

So, a year later a few problems pop up. We take it to RICK TORRES EMPIRE HYUNDAI. Jeff White, the service manager, is reasonably sure it's all warantee work, but promises to call if there are any problems. Without written consent, he takes the car apart (not even necessary) claims the timing belt is mangled and it's going to cost $450.00, no warantee, to fix.

Hold on, I say. You did not authorize this.

Well, I've got your car in pieces in my bay right now. It will cost you just as much to put it all back to gether, but feel free to take it somewhere else.

Me: when can you have it fixed?

One week.

Oh? So, how are you going to get it out of the bay?

It's going to sit there until you agree to pay or my guy puts it together and we get paid for his time.

Me: My father works at Glassman auto. They replace the timing belt, the water pump and the tensioner. So, they screwed up?

Yes.

Okay, my brother in law works for a dealership and he could shede a little light on this. I want all the parts you take out.

I can't give those to you.

By law, you have to.

No, they have to go to warantee to ensure that we did the right work.

The job you said wasn't under warantee, you said.

It's half under warantee.

I want my my guys to look at the parts before then. They have all the records and they'll see about this.

Well, it's going to cost you that much either way.

So, you've got me over barrel here. This is like blackmail.

I'm just doing my job.

Look, I've been around car repair long enough. You're lying.

I'm sorry you feel that way.

Who can I talk to about this?

No one. I'm the manager here.


I'll hand it to JEFF WHITE, he never raised his voice and made me sound like a cranky old man.

Fearing for my car, I apologized and told him to do the work. I even said my stress level was too high and I should not be taking it out on him and that he was doing his job. Which, I didn't tell him, was swindling people.

I did my research and had a few phone calls made to RICK TORRES HYUNDAI.

SHOCK! It all magically got covered under warantee. THEN, they'd stolen money from the car. Yes, we'd left it there on purpose. The last straw.

Facts.

1. NO repair shop can touch your car without a written good faith estimate and cannot proceed beyond that estimate without another written consent.

2. The cannot charge you labor for any work they innitiate to investigate a problem.

3. No company in their right mind ties up a service bay with a car 'totally taken apart' for nine days. They had to put it back together to get it out of the bay to work on other cars.

4. They have no right to lock your car in a gated lock if they have done no repairs, unless they are willing to release it with a signature of receit.

I was blackmailed, lied to and meant to feel very stressed out AND had to kiss the ass of a lying worm of a service manager just to save my car.

Lastly, they dumped motor oil on parts of the engine to make it smoke and smell to try and get us to come in for a supposed oil leak. Nice try.

Customer service cannot get either manager on the phone to resolve this. I want an admission of the lying and blackmail, reprocussions for JEFF WHITE and a watchdog on their ass, like the Mass Better Business Bureau.

They pull this crap with old ladies and women and executives with no car knowledge.

Advice:

Go with your gut. If the price jumps without warning, refuse and ask to take the car immediately with no service charge.

Keep spotless records.

Always ask for parts that were taken out and double check with another shop if you suspect foul play.

SPEAK UP! Squeaky wheel gets the grease. We got our warantee work for $50.00 (on a $600.0 bill).

They are NEVER authorized to do work without an itemized estimate signed by you and cannot ecceed it with another signed release.

If you get screwed, fight back and threaten bad press. Call the local channels scam busters, the papers and blog and email. Bad press will force their hand.

Don't let them badger you. Get your research lined up and call a reputable shop and ask question. It helps to offer the new shop all your following business if they can help.

PLEASE post this or link it or whatever you can do.

Hyundai is a great company. Their service department is excellent, but many LIKE RICK TORRES EMPIRE HYUNDAI's service department are looking to scam.

I invite Rick Torres, his General Manager (not his service manager) to contact me at eliasdolon@charter.net understand, that's not my real name for privacy issues on the net, but I'll feel free to tell you who I am and explain further in a rational way what happened.

cc www.empirehyundai.com"

Please post everywhere and send nasty emails to hyundai

The World of the Blog

Fully aware of the medium I exist in, I have a gripe with bloggers and blogs in general.

Papa Murk summarized it. Every idiot now has an outlet to express themselves. The solution used to be to ignore them. Then, when the blog came, just don't read them.

Now, bloggers are reporting news, sitting in and asking questions at press conferences, being cited by news outlets and further blurring the lines between opinion and fact.

Now now now wait a second! Blogs are for two things.

1. Writing crap about your life that no one cares about, except for your fat blogging 'family' and a bag of funnybones.

2. Entertaining readers.

If you want to be a pundit, or sideline analyst or beat writer, FUCK YOU. Pay your dues and get a job. Some bloggers are great writers, but there is NO OVERSIGHT. No editor to squash that unfounder rumor. No parent company to hit you up and fire you for plagarism. It's free speech, got that right and thank GOD, but don't tell me that free speech includes free slander, inuendo and slanted politics. That's for CNN.

So, in theme with my new philosophy of civil disobedience, I am starting 'blog ins'. I'm going to camp successful blogs and comment with borederline nonsense and mild protest.

I encourage you to find a blog that doesn't deserve the priviledge of open readership and SHUT IT DOWN!

The Truth Will Set You Free

"Take this down. My name is Shaquille O'Neal and Paul Pierce is the motherfucking truth. Quote me on that and don't take nothing out. I knew he could play, but I didn't know he could play like this. Paul Pierce is the truth."

Shaquile O'Neal, 2001

Bigfoot?

Is this proof?

ATTENTION IDIOTS

I have dropped my conservative agenda. I now support senseless civil disobedience of any kind.

That is all.

Fear of a Dead Planet

So, here's a new one on me. It seems that Kansas has popped its ugly anti-science head up again. There's a twist of course. Knowing that environmentalists care about the planet, Kansas is now offering the alternative class "Intelligent Planet".

Ut.

Oh.

What do we do? If we tell them not to teach it, they might just as well say fine, but we have to give up saving it, due to its lack of intelligence. They're tying this in with abortion as well. They arguement goes, if we can kill unborn babies, why can't we kill the planet? We have freedom of choice, right?

Even worse is how they claim there's NO homosexual behavior in the animal kingdom. If we aree, then they've got some ground laid down to upend any attempt at gay marriage. If we disagree, they tell us not to act like butt humping dogs.

They're also starting a worldwide religitainment network. Of the scheduled line up, one of the most disturbing is called "God Made the Atom; God Split the Atom: The Story of God's Wrath and Mercy Through Nuclear Fission".

They have also banned every book from the classroms, even the Bible. If we support this, we look like a bunch of book burning Neanderthals. If we oppose it, they plan on returning all the books, incliding the bible back into classrooms.

Spread the word. Post this on your blog. Email it to friend. We must stop Kansas before they get out of control.

A Children's Book

Shoe Bear
by Dr. Robert J. Murk

Once, in the land of Magical Surprises, there lived a happy village of people called the Choos. They were so happy because all of them had the bestest, comfortablest shoes in the Multiverse.

One day, a giant hairy stranger Named Shoe Bear came to town. He was from a parallel membrane that had bumped into the Brane of Bliss in which the Land of Magical Surprise existed.

The Choos welcomed this stranger from the Shadowverse (as they called Brane 31xKp, where Shoe Bear came from). They sang him such a merry song of derring do that he collapsed in tears.

"Ohhhhwah," he said in his Louis Armstong crooning bear voice, "Thank you. Thank you. I been so sad livin in my ole Brane 31xKp. I sooooo glad you all sang me sucha luuuuvly song!"

"Hey," one Choo said, "What the hell is Tree Won Escapey?"

"No no," Shoe Bear said, "You got it all wrong! It's jus a bunch of numbahs and lettahs."

"Num Bars and Lettuce sounds delicious," another Choo said.

"What are you all," Shoe Bear asked, smiling, "A bunch a Meth Head? It's 3-1-s-K-p!"

"Oh," the Choos said, slapping each other in the groin, which was their customary sign of stupidity. Then, they sang another song for Shoe Bear.

Shoe Bear was so greatful he made them a promise.

"Now," he said, "I'm gone go away for a few days an seein' as you all like yo shoes so much, an me being a Shoe Bear an wutnot, I'm gone go like I says an make yous all a bunch o shoes like you never dun seen!"

There was a considerable reaction to this. The Choos punched themselves in the eye in their customary way of showing absolute joy!

And so the days passed.

A month later, a Choo was heard to ask aloud, "Say, where is that Shoe Bear fellow and all thos new shoes he promissed?"

"Maybe," another Choo suggested, "He was just some crazy dickhead."

But lo! Bounding over the hills at that moment came Shoe Bear! He had a bag of shoes.

"Oh my," he said as the Choos rushed out to greet him, "You show all got some tiny feet there." He pulled out a pair of shoes that was very small. He knocked one of the Choos to the ground and tugged his shoes off. "Let's jus fix you up propper," Shoe Bear said as he tried as hard as he could to get the tiny shoe on the tiny Choos' foot.

"AHHHHHHHH!!!!" the Choo screamed in pain, "AHHHHHHHH!!! SWEET MOTHER OF FREAKING HELL!!! STOP!!!!"

"Shut up, ya little bitch," Shoe Bear said, "Shoes gotta be tight at first to fit right."

"You're breaking his bones!" another Choo screamed. Pop, snap, crack went the bones in his foot, but soon enough, the shoes were on.

"Now, you better run away before I gets thirsty for your blood," Shoe Bear said, but it was too late. Shoe Bear had bit him hard in the neck and drank him warm and yummy.

The other Choos stood and watched in shock.

"Whoa," one said. "Those shoes don't fit very well at all!"

"Let's run away," one suggested. But Shoe Bear was too clever. He'd already started ramming shoes onto other Choos' feet. Crinkle, CRACK, crunch, went the bones. AHHHHHHH! went the Choo.

One by one, Shoe Bear broke their feet in tiny shoes and drank them warm and yummy. Then, he noticed all the Choos were dead and empty of blood. He gathered up all of their old shoes and put them in the bag he carried.

"These some damn fine shoes they got," he said. "Now, I just need to find a town wit some people with slightly bigger feet."

The End

Fame and the Perils of the Intarweb

Murk. Is that my real name?

It's a loaded question. If I say yes, I'm a liar and can easily be detected. If I say no, then I'm hiding behind a mask, begging to be exposed.

So, let's end this potential Mexican Standoff before anyone fires a shot. No. Dr. Robert J. Murk is not my real name. It is an invention, a fiction. It is for entertainment only. Mainly my entertainment, but hey.

Why hide? Got something to hide Murk? Yup. I could cite hundreds of practical reasons, but let's say my real name was Bisby Rasputin Ticklesteen. No one would take me seriously. Even if I had a normal name like Fred Papers, we all know, no one likes Fred Papers. No one hates Fred Papers. Not true of Dr. Robert J. Murk. People love him and hate him. Some care less.

Here's my angle. If I wanted to post under my real name, I would. In fact, I do. Not here of course. This is a place of bad magic tricks and slander. It is a land of milk and Tylenol PM. It's offensive, stupid, ham handed hack drivel that I love writing.

Sure, unmasking Dr. Murk would shine a light on the madness of his creator, but honestly... truth is far less fun in this case. Here, it's a Murk Reality Zone, free of logic, scruples and morals.

I must admit, it's become tough not to be Murk in real life. Just ask Malach. I stupidly acted the Murk at a recent family gathering. I was in a Murk Moment and got caught throwing a Murk Tantrum. It never should have happened.

Is the name real? No, but the guy does exist here and in my mind and in the mind of others.

A famous magician once said that if you reveal the trick, it's no longer magic. It's just a trick. People love magic. They hate to be tricked. So, let's prolong the magic for a bit more until the global agenda of Third Option Media, Hill TV and Rubbersuit Studios is realized.

Be kind. People who drag others skeletons out of the closet eventually become bone collectors and nothing else. We can all admit it's a poor man's charade, this privacy of the Intarweb, but I am a poor man.

And to throw another dumb cliche out, I'm a shallow puddle. Don't try to dive in.

Life Immitates News

Sometimes you have one of those days where you wonder, what else could go wrong? Well, Hillary Clinton had one of those days yesterday. It's a long standing tradition to get Presidential Candidates to pick a winner for the Kentucky Derby.

With her campaign obviously failing, he rival gaining superdelegates despite being a black madman, Hillary Clinton decided to get cute. When asked which horse she picked to win, she made a funny. She picked the only girl horse (a 'fillet'), Eight Bells.

Eight Bells was put down (killed) on the track yesterday.

Clinton backed the wrong horse. It's weird because some superdelegates have said the same thing about backing her.

Not to beat a dead horse, but she's the only girl horse in the race and she'll have to be put down while still on the track.

When Senator Clinton heard the news, she was heard to sigh, "You're fucking kidding me. What else?"

The what else was that she burned the roast because she got caught up watching General Hospital reruns on Soap Network. No wonder no one wants her for President! Imagine if that roast was an important summit.

Her handlers have tried many times to get her to understand the idea of responsibility for her own good. You know what they say, you can lead a horse to water, but she'll probably just fall down and have to be shot because she's too dumb to stop trying to run.

Rest In Piece, Eight Bells. I look forward to seeing you soon at McDonald's for the premiere of the $8.88 Belle Burger with 100% fillet meat. Mmmmmm mmmmm. It' what?