The loss of a loved one

This is a dead lizard (well it was dying when this picture was taken). This is not my fault. We all know that I have had to euthanize animals in the past, but this time I am innocent. I am staying at yet another friends house while I see saw between where I would like to live. I am once again in the land of cats. The picture above is what the indoor cat caught and killed for me. I know that the lizard was a gift to me only because I tried to throw it away twice and both times it ended up on the same spot that she killed the reptile, right next to my luggage. She is a lovable cat if not slightly demanding for attention, Ahhh! Holy crap, she just attacked me as I wrote that last sentence. I think my upper back is bleeding. Jesus, that hurts. She hates the outdoors and will sit for hours on the front step and watch. The furthest she has ever ventured from that stoop is to retrieve this lizard and put it back on my clothes.

I think it's a death threat. I think she thinks she could take me if it came fist to paw. I think she keeps bringing the dead reptile to me as a, "yeah that could have been you" scenario. Am I crazy? She is awfully nice and cuddly until you turn your back and bam! she is claws in, eating your hair. Maybe she has something to hide? It's all just a game to her, leading me on, making me think she doesn't go outside. Maybe it's because what she has to protect is inside. Some sort of kitty underground that she can't let out of the bag. She does play dumb a lot. She has this paper fetish that is unreasonable. You can't have one wire in the house without her chewing through. So many distracting tendencies for there to be nothing to hide.

Anyway, I will keep my eyes open. I have to, I still don't know where the lizard's tail went, you can see in the picture it was either bitten off or the lizard used its natural defense and shed the tail. No matter, I hope the cat ate it, I hate to think of the wake-up call with that on my pillow.

Big breasts, poker stars and wrinkles

I am blogging under protest. I have been under watch for not using enough "keywords" and I am only writing to maximize my search engine optimization. Guaranteed good times.
I am seriously going to play some poker tournaments (key words) these next few weeks. I have a success (keyword, you can guess the rest) route that I am experimenting with and will keep you all posted. The diet I am on is a home-run, touchdown all the way, boobs to the wall, ankles in the air, grand slam, Kentucky Derby, high noon shoot-out. Boob, big boobs.

I don't have big boobs. I had a friend once tell me that I couldn't be in Playboy, but I could do Hustler. He said, "don't worry about it, cuz there's a lot of freaks out there that like small boobs."

Good. Great, I'm glad that I can still get a job even with my freak loving boobs. I suppose they could just put me in a cage in the corner with a bag over my head as I yell, "I am not an animal.", for tips.
Still, I wonder how much Hustler pays? It doesn't seem like a lot, those girls are, well, I'm saying $50 tops.

Alright, I strayed, where were we? Oh yeah, they certainly aren't dating Jim Carey or Chris Angel anytime soon. Or worrying about the economy. The job market, swine flu. Hemorrhoids.

That last one isn't a keyword, but that's how I feel right now. Oh, wait it is a pretty popular search. Especially for using hemorrhoid cream on your face. Please let me know if this is true, I am ridiculously curious. Cures wrinkles? Do they have one that doesn't remind me of my ass smell? That's important before I spread it on my face. Then it's just the self ridicule of ass face until I find another keyword that preys on people's fears and weaknesses. Like religion.

Until next time, my little new born babies full of cute cuddly goodness.

Why banana Slugs? Why?

It never occurs to me when I look at a species to try and understand how they have sex. I just assume they sleep in nice twin beds carefully separated by a tasteful bit of furniture, perhaps a night stand. I usually am just joyous to be out and about stumbling through Mother Nature, looking for small windows into her beautiful Eden. But, oh no, when you least expect it, she just comes right back with a filthy slap to the face. Like here we have the Banana Slug, school mascot, beloved yellow symbol of UC Santa Cruz, hermaphroditic tantra sex fiend.

The Banana Slug is, like most slugs, a hermaphrodite. The slug will, though prefers not to, have sex with itself if no other slugs are present. The slug then inseminates itself and can even produce a sterile offspring. Otherwise, the slugs reproduce all year round. They find each other by passing through another slugs mucus trail and then begin the hours long mating dance. They believe that the long dance and subsequent tantric mating ritual is to protect and prevent inner breeding between slug-kind. The slugs then alternate inseminating each other, sometimes the passion is so great that the slug will gnaw the genitalia off the other slug and eat the male right off of his mate.

Look if you dare http://bio.research.ucsc.edu/grad/weaver/animations/penischewing.mov.
In the above video the banana slug goes on to eat not only his mates penis but also his own. The grad student stated that the slugs just went on to normal activity right after the event.

In conclusion, this completes my thesis on which sexual organ you would pick if you were given both at birth. You would use it once and then eat your penis. Frankly, I'm shocked at the answer too. Who knew? I would have placed serious odds on the penis going all the way, but no. It's just one of those life long questions you never thought would be answered. I feel like a weight has been lifted. Whew.
I feel compelled to note that the penis is at the head of the animal and so are its lung and anus. You'd think the poor thing probably wrecks itself trying to put the over sized penis in those holes first and then exasperated looks elsewhere. Their sex can last for over a day. Imagine how long it took before it realized it couldn't screw itself in the head first. I think its only so long before you finally feed the giant penis' baffling hunger and decide it really isn't worth carrying around.

I'm also now really creeped out by their mucus, more than usual.

cow escapes

Cows are the new China. The great big elephant in the room that no one really wants to talk about. Yet here we are. I have theorized for years that we have dumbed down what very well may be a species that had the potential to evolve into something smarter. The potential to be revered just as we do the dolphin. In fact they are similar in many ways. I'm not kidding. The journal of molecular evolution has said, "There is a general tendency throughout the sequenced regions for greater similarity between dolphin and bovine mt genomes than between dolphin and rodent or human mt genomes." However, we have not treated Dolphins the way we have cows. True, that the cow does not have to worry about the stray fisherman harpoon or net, or even the hungry shark lurking for food, but, we most certainly have restrained any Darwinian hope for a great future for these poor creatures with our love of the charbroiled quarter pounder.

Or have we? In March there was a report of an escape cow who had been on the lamb (couldn't help it) for nine months. Consequently, she tugged on the heart strings of activists who embraced her refugee status and she now lives in an animal sanctuary that is far different from the slaughterhouse where she strayed. Also, just yesterday Reuters reported another cow escape in New York from a similar slaughterhouse. This cow took to the streets before being caught by mounted police. Once again, this cow will be saved from death by a animal care agency.

So here we have a secret loophole for our oppressive past. We have offered up a way for the smartest of the cows to survive. Thus, propelling their genetic offspring further into a land of cow intellect. We are sending them light years into the future, perhaps making up for the neglect and poor foresight we had before. I mean imagine if someone started weeding our stupidity away and left us only to propagate with the smartest, fittest in the land? No more Lasik, no more frat boys, not one Hum-v to be found.

Oh wait, it seems that these cows won't have a stud rearing service. They are the only cows in their respective shelters. The one cow who was believed to have run away looking for her calf was never reunited and the calf is presumably in my fridge right now. I think that by saving them from immediate death will only give them time to think and postulate on their missing companions. Who knows what revenge the two will come up with in their mad filled rage? They are the smart ones, we recognize this but not well enough. These cows are evil. God help us if they ever meet in what will now be their long, long lives. They escaped from a place run by humans who were trying to kill them. What chance do you think we have at restraining them with poor, weak vegetarians?

What if they are some secret species from another planet just waiting for us to release our thumb hold? What if we have prevented total world domination up until this point? What if Peta was started by a cow? These are all questions that I want the media to explain to me. In all their journalistic attempts to cover this story they never went down this road did they? Because that's what the cows want them to do. Go on, get out there. Win your Pulitzer. This story is bigger than all of us.

Me-3 Cow-2

pervert

A co-worker informed me yesterday, in confidence, that she recently broke up with her boyfriend of two months. This woman had previously been single for two years. No one night stands, no hook-ups, no nookie. She has many cats, reads romance novels and wears a blue tooth all the time. I am not poking fun I am merely speaking truths. She explained to me that the reason for her untimely break up came because of the fact that when she changed from her day clothes into her P.J's he looked at her too perversely. No joke, word for word.

My first point of contention with what she said is why is she wearing pajamas at all in this stage of the relationship? Presumably you are dating this person because you are sexually attracted to them and want to lay on them naked to see what happens. Secondly, the whole reason we get a partner is to have someone else to be perverted with.

I suppose she had expected a true gentleman who would step out of the room while she undressed and then slip a love letter under the door expressing his desire to carry her to his waiting chariot. Silly girl. At 37 years old you should know better.

Let me say this, with utmost conviction, all men are perverts. You will never find a guy that is without a perversion, without a deep down sick, sick fetish that would make you want go to church and plead for his demented little soul. I don't care if they are 10 years old or 100 they want to touch the boobies. They will try to put their penis wherever you let them. Intellect does not cure them of this desire no more than social status. Lest we forget our own past presidents slides to the dark side.

We are monkeys with things. We have a past that we remember ourselves in and a future we hope were in. We force these fantasies on people hoping that our "dreams" will come true, ignoring the possibility that this other monkey may have dreams too.
What really makes me sad is that she doesn't realize how perverted her fantasy is to most people. She wants normal love and devotion, yes, but what about the wall of chastity? Sex will keep you from being a bitch. It will bond you with your partner on a daily (maybe more) basis. It doesn't have to be just about sex but, c'mon, if your naked and he doesn't look at you perversely? That's when you have a problem.

We can deal with the blue tooth headset another time.

new creature discovered

This is my favorite picture that I took while on my month long adventure. It was taken just as we entered the Trinity River to go fishing in Grey Falls. There are spectacular little hikes that take you down to the water. While passing through I got a glimpse of a small green tree frog hanging under a branch. I grabbed my camera and quickly turned it on only to see the frog leap just out of sight. Defeated, I looked around hoping to catch another glimpse for posterity and saw the above image out of the corner of my eye. Thinking to myself that I would not make the same mistake again I was determined to outsmart the creature and record my victory this time.

My approach was slow, I had already lost my first prey, I held my breath and became excited to see that the thing hadn't seen me yet and my stealthy behavior was working. "I am a ninja", I thought. It wasn't until I had gotten three pictures in and realized that the creature wasn't moving at all, so I decided to get a closer look. I made more noise and moved in. It was motionless. This is when I discovered that I had successfully stalked and filmed a piece of poo.

I think it's a dog's.

I'm an idiot. At least now I have photographic proof.

jerusalem cricket

I have been away from "civilization" for so long. This is a friend of mine from the Lost Coast right around Jackass Creek. He was hiding under a driftwood log along the beach. It wasn't until now, as I sit in a Motel room in Eureka, that I am aware of the dangerous controversy that surrounds my sweet Jerusalem cricket in the picture. The bottom is a photo I took and the top is from potatobugs.com. The site describes the ferocious beast in more detail and it is only now that I realize I was at death's door. I mean how else do you get the nickname "Satan's fetus"? Seriously, look at the site, I'll wait.

I have noticed that while I am in nature's clumsy hands I should be more educated on what is evil and must be destroyed and what I should do in life-threatening situations. I have been reading the worst case scenario book but I can't imagine that upon seeing a bear that I will calmly throw my hands in the air and say softly, "hey bear. It's okay. Good bear.", I have been contemplating buying a small dog such as a chihuahua and throwing it at the bear as a snack while I run away. I think they are light enough that you could hurl it pretty far and it will give you plenty of time. Or, just tie the dog up at your camp site because what bear wants to chase food when a tasty little morsel is tethered to that tree not going anywhere?

I have also noticed that animals in the wild are pretty nice about showing signs that they are just as afraid of you. For example, passing a herd of Elk, we were greeted by most of them crapping themselves as we walked through. Noticing, as I did, that the first common primordial instinct is to relieve yourself so you can run faster from your predator. So I thank all the creatures who made me feel superior by pooing when they saw me, It really did make me feel bad ass and scary.

I am off now to fish Trinity River and the surrounding area. I wish that I had taken the cricket for bait, but I really thought he was a friend at the time. If anyone wants to send me warnings of animals, bugs, etc. that I may encounter, please do, I'm leaving in an hour.

cat in heat

I should preface this post with the statement that I love animals and, despite eating them, would never intentionally drop kick one of them for no reason.

I am presently staying at a friends house while I finalize my vacation plans and I have just had the unfortunate experience of meeting the "tame" cat that runs the place. The cat is named Whisper which is, in my opinion, the opposite of this particular cat. She is eleven years old and in heat. Whisper is the loudest cat that has ever roamed the planet. Her name is a cruel joke on the world. It's like naming Marilyn Monroe, Sober. Whisper wakes up around 11pm and begins her rounds of enticing people to pet her only to hiss and snap and claw until she is satisfied that you're bleeding and hoping she knows that it's all dogs go to heaven, not cats. Then, just as you go to bed and drift away into never never land, she begins the cry for her never found mate. It's long and annoying and has no rhyme or reason and, just when you think that she couldn't possible have anything else to say, it starts anew. I bought earplugs today.

Come to think of it, I guess I really shouldn't be too hard on the old girl. Look at her situation, she is 11 years old and she's not getting any younger. She has only wanted to get laid her whole life. She is an indoor cat and can only moan loudly through the walls, hoping to entice a wandering stray or the ears of the neighboring gigolo cat. What with Bob Barker and animal rights activists I think our little Whisper here is just about the last of her kind. She is like that 60 year old Indian woman that just had a baby, old and fertile. Except that I think the Indian lady probably can't say she's a virgin like our Whisper. Not that she wouldn't jump at the chance, but bless that poor cat that makes its way through the claw fanged passion that is Whisper.

So now I've come to the conclusion that I am going to take her to be fixed this weekend, with my friend's consent. Still though, 11 years of horny? I feel like I should find her a one night stand before I do.

Do you think the SPCA covers that? I think I'll put a note in the suggestion box if they don't.

bear trap

I am so sorry that I have not written in ages. I am moving out of my house and planning a month long hiking trip. I am hoping that the person that I am going with knows that if there is a tiger about to maul me (like the man in the picture) they should first, put down the camera, second, alert me(the maulee), so I can run faster than them away from the hungry tiger. I should also point out that I would like this warning for bears, gorillas, sharks, jellyfish, just about any drunk girl, um, spit balls, and, finally, Carrot Top.
I would like to say that I am trying my best through all of this to post whenever insanity levels brew beyond recognition. Whenever tolerance of human beings are at an all time low. Whenever I freaking feel like it.
We'll be in touch.

urine my face

Ah, cow urine, here we are again.

This gentlemen belongs to the Dinka, a group of tribes located in southern Sudan, and this is how they dye their hair.

You would think that they would be smart, like the people in India, and collect the urine to drink as well use as a styling substance. Then maybe they could add different scents to the urine or pretend that they were putting something on their heads other than cow pee.

Look at me, so Americanized. At least they have the dignity to not lie to themselves like we do with our distasteful products. I'm sure I know where my placenta shampoo comes from but there is no part of me that wants to hold my head under a birthing...okay...I can't even say it. See my point?
So bravo to the Dinka for being true to yourselves. You will always hold your head up high, um , except when you stick it under the cow so it can piss on you.

What I want to know is how did cows become so holy? How did the dumbest animal on the planet convince people all around the world that it is divine?

I guess that if you count drinking the urine, it sort of converted water into something else, not wine, but hey, different. Also, we eat just about every part of the animal, so, body of Christ and all that. Huh, maybe cows are the second coming of the Lord.
It all makes so much sense to me now. The cow is a passive, peaceful creature. It serves us in any way we desire with no judgment or dismay. It asks for no more than food and water and the Dinka boys to blow on its private area.

No joke. National Geographic showed me that the Dinka boys also "stimulate" the female cows during the dry months in order for them to keep producing milk. That's their job, well that and hand carrying around cow poo every morning. Somehow, I don't think Jesus would want little boys blowing on his genitals like these kids do. I'm not entirely sure but I think that there is something written against this in the bible. Remember how angry they all got with those priests a few years ago? Yeah, it's definitely talked about in that thing.
So maybe the cow isn't the second awakening, but you see how easy it is to get sucked into those big doe-like eyes, right?
You were all with me for a second. Admit it.

Me=3 Cow=1

gastric brooding frog

This picture gives me nightmares. This is a Gastric brooding frog. She swallows her eggs and then her body turns off her production of hydrochloric acid until the tadpoles leave her belly and birth out of her mouth. Scientists haven't been able to find the species since the 70's and believe it to be extinct. They are still searching in hopes that the study of the frog will lead to a cure for stomach problems, such as ulcers.

Don't you see people? Don't you see that they ate themselves extinct? AHHHH!! She couldn't turn it off. She tried, oh good lord how she tried. But she ate them, and they were good. So they grew hungry for the taste, the taste of their own flesh, and then they went mad, mad I tell you! Oh, the agony. Oh, the salty wart filled tears. You are forgiven froggies, go to the great big flashlight in the sky, that's it, go on.

Still though, it doesn't stop my nightmare where my mom is 40 feet tall and tying a napkin around her hungry neck, licking her lips as I realize I am the hot dog in the roll she is about to lift to her mouth.

Stupid Mother Nature, scaring me. I'm not out there, in the wild, sneaking up on her and messing with her head. But maybe I will. Maybe I'll put all my liquids into aerosol cans, stop recycling or vote only Republican, you never know. Two can play at this game.

Eyes in the back of my head, Lady.

Golden Newt Ball

I went camping this weekend and witnessed the little California newt in action. I thought, as you may be thinking now by the picture, how adorable that they all get together and hug for warmth. My heart was alive with the joy of the wild. I smiled and pointed out to my friend how lucky we were to be witnesses to such beauty. He said, "no, that's a newt ball. They're gang banging the female."

What?

It seems that the males often get to the river before the females and so when she does finally show up she is out numbered and is treated like, well, Jodie Foster's character in The Accused.

Look at them. Most of them aren't even near touching the female and, in every male case, they will release a spermatophore(load) that will rest on the ocean floor for the female to pick up with her cloaca(sewer). No penetration whatsoever. None. It's a gang bang of snugly hugs with a happy ending.

So fear not my little campers, it looks as though I was right in the end. These guys are like the care bears of sexual relations. It does seem important for me to note that they are poisonous to touch and eat, so maybe all these toxins are rubbing off on each other and they are all getting just a little too high. I say this only because, frankly, this just sounds like another giant ecstasy party to me.

Best damn back rub you'll ever have.

Two week old Artyom G, from Moscow, was born with two penises. His parents recently put him through the five hour life threatening surgery to form the two penises into one. This picture isn't of the parents, but it's who I would want on my side if I was going to be born with two penises.

I once saw a porno where this German guy supposedly had two penises and I always hoped it was real but now I know better. Now I know that if you are born with any removable deformity it is gone as soon as they can put you under the knife legally.

Will the parents tell the boy when he's old enough that they robbed him of being the coolest guy in the universe?

However, maybe both penises were really tiny and having a medium size penis is kinda better than two small penises, right? Plus, the article says one penis was on his lower back. Were there four balls too? I wonder. Now if it's a big dick on the back and a small one on the front I would probably give it some time before I would decide to remove it. Small back, big front, I would lose the back. But, big, big? Yeah, you keep that.

The history of the domestication of horses has had a breakthrough discovery. Archeologists have found signs that we bred and milked the animals 5500 years ago. A millennium earlier than previously thought.

I didn't even know they milked horses for human consumption. Apparently, there has been a popular alcoholic beverage consumed for centuries called Kumis, made from fermented horse milk. It is made like wine and consumed like beer in many cultures. I also read that horse milk is better for you nutritionally and most closely resembles human milk. It also won taste tests beating out cat, cow and dog milk.

I am at a loss, who taste tests these things? There is so much that I don't know about the world. What else have we milked?

Well, Google says a Goat mixed with a spider gene produces milk enhanced with a silk protein that is so strong they are using it to make bullet proof vests.
Genetics are making mad scientists dreams come true. What can we make have special powers next? Why aren't we genetically enhancing ourselves? I read that they can identify and eliminate the cancer gene in newborns. Screw that. We should inject them with some sort of special gamma rays that they emit and it kills anyone's cancer that stands near them. I would also really like night vision.

They could inject me with cat eyes and I could be all stealthy and ninja-like. I would jump down off the roof with my kangaroo legs and stop the potential robber in the dark. He'd be like, "whoa, where did you come from?", and I'd say, "hush, hush, little evil robber man. We're taking you to the pokey.", 'cause that's what coppers call jail.

In conclusion, I think I would try a little of this horse's milk. It's supposed to taste like hazelnut and be easier to digest than the cow's milk.

Okay. I will do it. In exchange I want to be updated daily on the advances we're making in genetically splicing adult dna with any animals. I might not be that picky about my special skills. I could get excited about something as simple as a little ant dna. I could lift so much stuff. Maybe start a moving business. You never know. You gotta be thinking on your feet here. The possibilities are endless.

I promise to use my powers only for good.

I'm not sure this lady knows how to milk a horse.

A builder working in London, at Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital, was fired after a security guard found him, "naked and on his knees with the smiling (vacuum) cleaner". The perpetrator told guards that he was actually cleaning his underwear. He said the way he was doing it was, "a common practice in Poland". Um, Okay? Stripping naked, at your job, and cleaning your underwear with the vacuum cleaner, is a common practice in Poland?

You know, you hear all these racist jokes about pollacks and you truly try to stay funny and stray away from common stereotypes, but these guys are great. Really, a bottomless well of comedy. Especially now in these hard times, what with Bush out of office and Britney is all "back on track", laughter is at an all time low. We really need to head on back to our roots and get back the true meaning of funny. Nice, honest, fear based bigotry.

Silly Pollack sticking your dick in a vacuum. Classic.

In a New York fertility clinic Dr. Jeffrey Steinberg predicts that, within 6 months, they will be featuring a service providing expectant parents with decisions on gender, eye color and hair color, among other physical traits. The genetic diagnosis procedure that scans the embryo has been used for years but primarily to insure against dangerous birth defects or disease. The doctor thinks they can predict up to 80% accurate results with the tests.

You know, I'll be frank, I didn't want kids mostly because I thought God would get me back for making fun of retards. I kept telling myself, "better safe than sorry". Now though, it looks like me and God are on more equal ground. I'm the one that gets to have the retard baby if I want it. One with green eyes and red hair, or the other way around, my choice now God. Maybe I knew a little Corky was coming and that was alright with me. But no, you had to throw this little fire into the ring and give me the option. Oh, you're good God, maybe too good.

So here we are in the middle of science against higher powers. How far have we come that we feel we need to control everything down to the likeness of our unborn children? Why must we play dice with mother nature again and again?

I think I'm going to stick with one of my original ideas and go the old fashioned way of determining which baby you get, adoption. I'm getting a darker one like Madonna's.
But, I'm not going to be all lame and name it David like her, jeez.
I think everyone knows to mark Batman Superman off their baby name lists.

91 Year old Grace Foster is fastest in her age bracket

This is 91 year old Grace Foster who just ran the 60 meter sprint in New Jersey. The article states that she, "shattered" the previous record in her 90-95 year old age bracket. That is because this is when most people take up dying, not track.

I think she has a brilliant idea. If you are not a good athlete now, just wait until everyone you know dies, and then you're the fastest. Tada!

This is a new awakening for me especially since I thought if I lived that long I would take up more recreational drugs like heroin and meth. I also planned on going back to smoking when I was 86, but not now, oh no. Now I have a future super human identity to look forward to. The fastest person in my age bracket. What more could you want?

Also, scientists found the gene that reproduces teeth so I don't have to stress about the eating through a straw thing anymore either. What a day.

Hello Kitty officially scares the crap out of me.
I mean, it's one thing to take over the small minds of eager children who have, let's face it, nothing positive to offer. I can also understand your God-like manipulation of a teenager's wallet. I could even forgive the scamming of middle aged women who can't understand that they are no longer cute. But babies?

This is a picture of the new Hello Kitty themed maternity hospital. The whole hospital. Every baby, every room, Hello Kitty.

C'mon, let them at least have two minutes out of the womb before we barrage them with your luck and adorability. Let them know a world where their food comes promo free. I bet you even have the Hello Kitty breast pump in that teeny room, you sneaky little kitten. Why don't you just come up with tattoos on the inside of their eyelids so they can think of buying your products in their sleep? Wait. Don't do that. I was just kidding. I take it back. I'll buy more stuff this year, I promise. Just leave the babies alone.

I guess it's too much for me, in this commercialized society, to think that they wouldn't target the next generation. Even if it is before they are able to speak. They know we are just getting older and losing patience with their saccharine cat. But, really. Just shoot me when Joe Camel delivers your kid, okay? Seriously, I won't be mad, right in the face.

Until that time I will force myself to use the Hello Kitty contraceptives I got and encourage you all to do the same.

I just found out that kangaroos don't fart or burp. Instead of methane their fermentation hydrogen byproduct is turned into acetate and recycled for more energy. They are considered to be the next "greener" animal to farm and eat. Also, scientists are looking into the process of transferring the bacteria responsible from kangaroos to cows.

Why not us? Why wouldn't we try it too? The amount of energy that each person could provide, well, I can only speak for myself, is limitless. I don't know about you people, but I want to sit in that room that is heated and lit by my former farts and burps. I want to hear the echoes of children feasting on dinners cooked by their family's digestive tract. I want, no I need, this circle of life.

The greenhouse gas effect is 23 times greater with methane than with carbon dioxide. Yet, here we are, pointing fingers at defenseless animals and blaming them for this tragedy. Oh no, we do not break this wind that you speak of. We do not eject air reflexively. We could not possibly be partly responsible for whatever it is that all this means to our Earth's future. (I really have absolutely no clue)

Wake up people. No cow is going to invent a way to transmit these bacteria to you. It's your life, your body, your choice. Now go hug a Kangaroo. Be pro choice. Look, this one in the picture is saying, "hey you, get in the jacuzzi, its fine in here".

Ha
Me=2 Cow=0

I apologize, faithful readers, for allowing my sickness to create such a long hiatus. I was, sadly, peeing from my butt-hole and pooing from my mouth. It is, I can safely say, the least fun thing to do with your day. It also makes communicating with the public barely tolerable and piddles away at your sense of humor.

I like that word, Piddle. I was looking for whittle and the thesaurus gave me Piddle. I don't even think it fits in the context of the sentence, but, I am positive that I will somehow work it into every sentence that I have from now to my piddling end. Ah, here it is, Piddle: to dawdle, putter, and, oh good, urinate. Um, I guess that makes sense, until my urinating end.
So I thank you for coming back to my piddling blog and helping me realize my piddling purpose once again.
I piddle you all.

A 38 year old female firefighter, Cindy Economou, from Port St. Lucie, Fla. was arrested for stealing a foot from a crime scene. Cindy said she needed the appendage to train her cadaver dog.
The police arrested her with only second degree theft because the warrant listed the foot's value at under $100. This is only punishable by a maximum 60 days in jail.
“I think the issue here for everyone was unfortunately the value of the foot,” said Lt. Tim Frith, FHP spokesman. “This particular bizarre incident involving a body part is not listed in the statute as far as specifying it, so therefore it would relate back to some type of monetary value.”

The craziest part is Mr. Lambert is still alive and wants his foot back. He is wheelchair ridden since the accident, but maintains the right to his property.
However, $100? It seems that a foot should be worth a whole lot more than a clean Benjamin, right? I looked at the http://www.oneplusyou.com/bb/cadaver website to determine my own foot's worth, since no one should trust Florida police or any part of its judicial system. Sadly, I am only worth about $5200, my whole body, head to toe. On the plus side, I have calculated my foot's worth at almost $321. Not what I had hoped, but way more than Mr. Lambert's, and sometimes that's all you need.

I have been really sick for a couple of days and I thought it would make me feel better if I just put up some of the coolest pics in the world. A friend of mine sent me the ape and shark pic to blog about, seeing as it is the greatest high five ever.
Then I got to thinking. Batman with shark nun chucks is pretty damn cool too. Also, if your name was Batman and Superman? What could be greater? You know, I always thought that I wouldn't have kids. They steal your money and your dreams. But, if I had one and named it Batman Superman, that is a dream.

This picture confirms my suspicions that fisting is really difficult to do to someone. I mean, unless you have a collapsible wrist, you're gonna need someone there to be your spotter. Like this lady who is trying to talk her friend through this ordeal. She is saying, "I know it's the flat end and it's going to make it harder, but, use your whole body weight as well as hers."

Apparently, schools are taking more liberal views towards sex ed these days.

I say good for them. That is one way to encourage a lack of teen sex. We should openly criticize and judge the way they are doing it. Any time they are in a sexual position they will instantly have the echoes of every gym teachers pitying shouts of, "you're doing it all wrong." Plus, there are always going to be the ones that "show off" so you will know who to look out for teen pregnancy. I'm all for the open dialogue and hands on approach to academia. This can only be a step in the right direction for teens and the future.

Still, fisting? Oh, well. Who am I to judge the kids of today? It looks tricky girls, practice, practice, practice.

I wanted to do something special showing exactly what President's Day means to me, but, these guys beat me to it. These are artist's representations of how glorious it is to be one of the few American's that can call themselves, Mr. President. You are held in such high regard that even the unicorns come out just to massage you and let you ride on their magical backs.
If someone had shown me these pictures in school, instead of the sad mournful pictures of past presidents, I could have become President.
Now, sadly, I can only dream of what other occupations there are that have a giant mythical creature who will embrace me too.

I have explained my love for the MMA in earlier posts. I think today I realized why I have so much respect for the fighters. It's because, basically if you throw in titty twisting and pulling hair, my sister and I pretty much invented this whole sport.

It really is a chess game you end up playing. Keeping your head sharp while defending yourself against mind numbing blows. Your constantly thinking, "Does she care she'll get grounded if she hurts me?, Will they ground her if I die?", and then the stark fascination with, "I don't think she cares either way, this is how I die".

I'm pretty sure that's how they feel in the ring. I know I'll never forget the first time I ever hit my sister as hard as I could in the face. I hurled my clenched fist back and landed one clean smack on her jaw. She barely flinched. All I remember thinking is, "nooo you were supposed to fallll." She kicked my ass that day.

Rachel, if you're reading this, please don't hurt me.

Good times, my worthy opponent.

You know I have this "Jesus saves" bumper sticker that I was , until now, unsure whether or not to put on my car. It was just the other day that I found it. And here He is, less than a week later, with his answer to my question.
Thanks Jesus, you sure work fast!

Today is Valentine's day. I want to wish everyone some flowers, candy and dinner, as is the custom. You can pretend this is the card that you got because I truly love each and every one of you. My hope is that someday we can all express this love in a deeper more connected way, like this man in the picture. He really has true love and is not afraid to show it to the world. My, how we have grown as a civilization, that we embrace killer whale passion. You can see clearly from the photo that he is no fighter.

I have a lot of ideas for this world. A lot of them are perverted and sexual. I am really hoping that Valentines people see this and support me in my quest. I know that whale guy does. All we need is a tiny, tiny bit of respect and a whole lot of patient tolerance and understanding. This is a great big planet and enough animals to go around.

Although, we may have a latex shortage.
But, we will bridge that gap when we come to it people. Everyone just get on board and give your Valentine a little pet for me too.

A company in New Delhi is reporting that they will be marketing and selling cow pee as a soft drink. The company is tired of the "corrupting" western influence on their product selection. The urine itself is considered to be as sacred as the cow and is revered for its medicinal properties.

I can't help but think that, somewhere along the lines, their word for sacred was confused with our phrase, "triple dog dare you". I don't care if world peace is flowing out of a cow's penis or vagina I am not putting it in my mouth.

However, if you believe in the miracle properties of urine, I have a lot that I have been apparently just wasting away. It runs clear most of the time but with the new vitamins I've been taking it can be fluorescent yellow. This can only be a sign of good fortune and prosperity.

I feel the need to defend my human pee as superior to that of these Holy Bovines. Health critics have argued for years that we should not even be drinking cow mucus, I mean milk, over the human supply. But, sadly, women have refused for centuries to be strapped and milked by machines. Truly a devastating decision for the world. Women are said to be the life givers, the people who swear there would be no war if they were in charge. Rubbish. Here is the perfect example of where they could stand up against the evil dairy empire and win. C'mon ladies. Band together. Soon enough they will invent the "comfort suckler". I imagine it as a hollow baby with a vacuum pump for a mouth and a long endless tube for its anus that will feed into the Earth's milk supply. Ah, that brave new world.

Until then, I assure you that my human pee is way better than cow pee.

You have my word...Cows can't do that. Ha.
Me=1 Cow=0

This is the new t-shirt for P4CM. P4CM is the, "passion for Christ movement". They promote these shirts for people who have struggled and eventually overcame their masturbation problem. On the web site he quotes, well, God apparently, with, "Is it a good thing to have sexual relations? Certainly-but only within a certain context. It's good for a man to have a wife, and for a woman to have a husband. Sexual drives are strong, but marriage is strong enough to contain them and provide for a balanced and fulfilling sexual life in a world of sexual disorder.'

Signed,

God."

This is literally taken off their page. Signed God? Wow.

Apparently, it also, "brings shame and is addictive., MASTERbation will MASTER you! You enter into a contractual agreement with it and it will govern your life sexually. It will rule and control your life...it taps you on the shoulder 3 o'clock in the morning even when you don't want it. You want to stop but you can't. You cry, you repent and say you won't do it any more but you find yourself molesting yourself again..."

Okay. My number one issue here is that none of these people are "non-masturbators", right? They have all been sinners in the eyes of God. Maybe God gave you this ability so that you wouldn't be out looking for a random leg to hump? Maybe, in a time before Darwin, we had this talent so we could naturally select mates based on compatibility and not raging hormones? Maybe it feels good because it is good for you and your species?

I've never cried about it though.

Does it really make people cry?

Maybe you're doing it all wrong. Try surprising yourself first. A little movie. Nice dinner. Oh, are those flowers? Yeah, nice and easy. If it hurts, stop, ask yourself what could be better, different. Create the open dialogue. Paint your finger nails, come in from behind. Your hand is your friend, treat it that way.

Also, how big is this guys wang for it to be tapping him on the shoulder? Maybe he has a whole other set of issues he needs to work out first.

Peta has started another campaign to get us to stop eating things that have heart beats. This time they are after saving fish. As you can see from the above banner they have decided that if they call them "sea kittens" people will realize that they are as cute and lovable as kittens.
Wrong. People eat cats all the time. Every time I am in Chinatown I have a sneaky suspicion that the 30 cent pork roll doesn't really have pork at all. I do want to mention that if it is cat then cat is delicious.
So now Peta has me thinking. I like the taste of fish. If they really are the kittens of the sea then maybe I should really be more open minded about tasting some cat. Also, the bones are way bigger so they would be easier to pick through. Plus, more meat than on a little fishy. And, you can control what the cat is eating so your guaranteed healthier meat.
So, thank you Peta! In the long run, I think you won me over. I am going to stop eating fish meat for awhile. I think they have convinced me to take another look at these "land kittens" and see what's cooking.
If you have recipe suggestions, feel free...

Falling is always funny. It is never not funny. It is not something that typically happens, nor is it something you can plan.

Although, fake falls can also be very funny.
Especially if they do indeed have an unsuspecting victim that falls with them. Usually, if I come across the occasion when I do fall, like in sports, skating or drinking, I try to take the closest person out with me. Preferably, throw them under my person to soften said blow. Like this guy did in the picture.

Anyway, what I love most is the mid air, "holy shit, this is gonna hurt" face. It's a beautiful mix of terror without pain and the silent resignation of nothing else to do but take one for the team. However, the huge muff dive that he is taking to the face here may not be who's team he's necessarily on but it doesn't matter, you're on a team. That's what matters.

You're helping us by letting us laugh and point at you. Not because you hurt yourself, but because we all know where you are coming from, okay? That sweet giddy exhilaration of being airborne turned in to, I hope I didn't just break my wrists, euphoria.

Pure comedy, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, go out there and get the pain meds you deserve for being one of the team! Um, a team, no, I mean, your team, whatever team you wanna be on. Go get 'em! Er, the pain meds, not the team.

This thief was startled by an alarm that he had triggered while trying to get back out of an East London museum he was burglarizing. As a result he slipped and, well, you can see what happened.
He then screamed until a man driving by heard him and alerted police. When the police arrived they had to saw the 30cm of steel from the fence in order to free him safely. The spike was later removed and found to have damaged his rectum as well as his intestines.

I mostly like this story because I think that this is the first time ever in the history of all ER's that they have heard the, "I slipped and fell on it", story and it was true.

This gentleman, George Bartusek, of Cape Coral, Fla. was arrested outside a grocery store for having a "threesome" with the two blow up dolls pictured. Nearby witnesses complained of him, "masturbating and 'aggressively kissing' the dolls".

Okay, George, so you're super horny, and after blowing up these two babes you feel like you can't wait until you get home to satisfy yourself. The manager comes out because there is a crowd gathering around your car. He asks you to stop and you refuse, to which, the manager calls the police. When the cops address you, you stumble but say you're buying clothes for the dolls at a nearby store.

Yes. Good answer.

I'm okay with all of this. So far, I get it. More importantly, I get you, mister man. Having a little fun in the parking lot? Who among us can say we are not guilty of this victimless crime? As for the crowd of people who gathered, I say, if you don't like what's going on in this car move on to the next one. Change the channel. Get off your soap box before your kids learn to cover their own eyes.

But, there's one thing that I don't really understand. I think we need to talk about it, seriously.
How many Reese's peanut butter cups can you eat? There are, like, three packages on the dash board alone. And, I notice that they are the fun size, no doubt the "normal" serving size doesn't satisfy you anymore. Who knows how many more are in there, in your car, in your heart. I'm worried about you, Candyman.

Binge eating is not something you should be taking lightly. It's a downward spiral. You don't want to be associated with an eating disorder, do you? Have some pride man. Get your finger out of your throat and into some nice warm dinner. You gotta take this disease by the reigns and drive it right out of you. Acceptance is the first part of recovery.

There, there, isn't that better? I think I speak for a lot of people out there when I wish you a speedy recovery.
I'll never forget you Candyman. No matter what.

What I really like about this picture is the guy right behind him trying to take the sign away. He's whispering, "wrong rally".
Well, I'm with the guy in the foreground. I hate juice. It's all fake sweet and full of carbs that I can't have and it's because everybody knows if you don't put sugar in real fruit juice it taste like crap.
No, really. Have you ever had cranberry juice? Real cranberry juice? No?
Okay, um, go stand next to a chair, not the front but the back part of the chair, now punch yourself in the throat and, just when you hit and your watery eyed, hurl the chair into your stomach.
That's what real cranberry juice tastes like.
Maybe the other juices can get away with "flavor", I don't know, I kinda stopped trying after cranberry. But, I think I have enough information to say yes, yes, mister sign carrying man, I hate juice too.

The New York Times has published an article saying there will be a love vaccine invented in the near future. A drug that will enable you to practically choose who you would want to fall in love with and not rely on purely sexual or Neanderthal instincts. It also says that drugs like oxycontin, prozac and vasopressin already numb the mentioned brain receptors making it less likely for you to cheat on your spouse or loved one.

Now, wait just an oxycontin picking minute. Are they saying that I am with someone that, given the proper state of mind, I would never have chosen? That I should "test" these drugs out to see if I would still like the person I am with without the raging primordial ooze telling me what I should be doing? Also, what the hell is vasopressin? Those two other drugs, well, we all know what they do, right? They make you happy internally so that it dulls the need to find happiness externally. But, vasopressin? Apparently, it is an anti diuretic, it dehydrates you and puts pressure on your heart. I think that will give you a whole lot more to think about than trying to get laid.

Honestly, except for the last drug, these other drugs are all given to people who need help psychologically. Listen to me, I've taken them all. Oxycontin is the last resort pain medication for terminally ill patients. I'm surprised that they would even correlate the lack of bar hopping and mingling to the drug. In truth, from my experience, lifting and holding beer is extremely difficult while on oxycontin. And honestly, prozac is used for severely depressed, OCD, Bulimics, and people with panic disorder. Which is, of course, a veritable garden of who is clubbing and laying their mack down.
Unless these doctors are clinically studying these drugs as recreational use, like I have, there really is no understanding if they work as a "commitment pill" or if the people are just fucked up from the start.
I think they should correlate the drugs with how they solve the real problem. No one wants to drink booze on any of these drugs. Booze clouds your judgment and you become stupid and slutty. I think we can all agree on this common denominator. Now I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure that I have the most correct theory going.
If you need me to fix world peace or something just email me and I'll think about it.

It has been brought to my attention by a diligent reader that no one has really touched upon the subject of how much it would literally suck to smoke weed with Mr. Phelps. It goes without question that he has an enormous lung capacity. As the reader wrote, "like that of a blue whale", which is a lot, let me tell you.
But, as much as I think he would smoke all your weed in one mighty breath, there is a much, much bigger issue here.
Who is his dealer?
How did they meet? What do they talk about? Does he even have a dealer? Does he need a dealer? Can I be his dealer?
You would make so much money. Those lungs, that huge amount of disposable income.
If your reading this Michael I think we should meet. Just see if we even get along first. No strings attached. You have so many gold medals. If anyone deserves to rest on their laurels and take it easy it's you. Don't let these idiots tell you that you have an image to uphold or that this makes you a bad role model. On the contrary Mr. Phelps, this has made you a little more approachable in my eyes.
Listen, people didn't follow The Dead around for the show nor do they adore Snoop Dogg for his devastating good looks and amazing acting skills. This is a whole new demographic your pulling from here. I think maybe it's time to expand your horizons. Look for a new way to represent yourself. You already did the win every medal thing.

Hey, c'mon, do we have to wait four more years to see you in your glory again? I say make your own choices and the people will follow. I think you are about to see how so many of us are on your side.
Like I said, give me a ring. We'll talk.

I'm sure everyone has seen this strange man trying to smuggle carrier pigeons, their eggs and some seeds from Dubai to Australia. Frankly, they couldn't have picked a worse species to propagate. Why birds? They're loud and annoying. They are no fun to pet. They don't play fetch. And...
Oh, wait. Yes they do. Especially these birds. Carrier pigeons (are Dubai's better than ours?) are smarter than the average bird, or dumber depending on how you look at the situation. I mean if your really lazy and, say, don't want to ever get out of bed let alone run an errand for a friend. Then these birds are probably pretty stupid to you.

Carrier pigeons are known to be easily trained to, well, carry. But now there is a whole movement to have the pigeons carry drugs for you and even cell phones to inmates in Brazil. Also, Bosnian prisoners were testing positive for drugs that they linked to an inmate breeding and training pigeons.

So this poor guy is stripped at the airport. He's 23 years old and he's got the Hasbro version of a starter kit for a drug dealer. Like the lame version though. The one that no one wanted but you felt really bad for the kids that had to sport it like it was the real thing so you just pretended along with me? Er, them. Anyway, he's facing up to ten years in jail or $70,000 in fines. If he would have had drugs instead of the starter kit he could face up to 20+years in jail and $70,000+ in fines.

Wait a minute.

This guy is a genius. He faces customs bullshit but no real devastating drug charges.

Let's see, two carrier pigeons. A couple eggs. Some seeds. I think you can just go take a pigeon. There are no adoption laws around them or groups that fight for their survival. Heck, if the prisoners can be suave enough for the birds, so can I. Now the eggs should come in due time because, well, you know, they do it. Does anyone know how to check the gender of a pigeon? Also, I am sure I have some seeds around here somewhere. I'm all set. Let's not get too greedy here folks. I know it sounds easy but we have to lay low. Keep our cool. Stay within the borders, no strapping them to your legs. It just looks bad for the rest of us, you know?

A surgeon has performed the worlds first donor kidney removal through a vagina.

That's right. He allowed her to give birth to her own kidney so that she could donate it to her niece. The operation is said to be much less painful than when they would slice through your back with a rusty steak knife and spoon out what they needed.
I like the whole idea and I mean what could be more sanitary than a woman's vagina, right? Well, what disturbs me is the fact that the surgeon in question, Kalloo, has said that more than 300 such surgeries have been performed worldwide, mostly gall bladder and appendix removal through the mouth, anus and vagina.

Now give me a break. They are just looking for a hole aren't they? No discrimination whatsoever? C'mon guys. It's truly a pity. I really felt like we were going for one of those great movie moments where we all realize that, of course, that is where donor kidneys should come from, because that's where we all come from, you know?
But no, no, these hole whores just want it all. You really are just playing God now. I hope that makes up for the hole your trying to fill in your life, mister surgeon man. Your dad wanted you to be better than the salesman he was, but, look at you. Standing there with your mask on. Who are you really hiding from, huh?
I can't take this. I'm out.
Vaginas are sacred, you fools.

Editor's Note: The Vagina isn't clean. A plastic bag is placed as lining to protect, "the donated kidney from contamination by bacteria and other organisms in her vagina."
Vagina, vagina, vagina.

The "news" is reporting that Bobby Brown is expecting his fifth child with his fourth baby momma.
This is utterly ridiculous. What about the Whitney/Bobby reunion that everyone was talking about? Let's get serious here folks. Being Bobby Brown was quintessentially the best reality show of all time. I have always said that if you put two meth heads in a house and just watch them it will be pure entertainment.
Whitney and Bobby proved this to be so true.
Although the show only ran for one season it remains very dear to me in my heart. Who can forget the time Bobby revealed that Whitney had been so constipated from drugs that he had to "reach up in there" and grab the poo out for her. Ah, to which she replied, "that's black love".
Now, I can only go on with the echoes of "hell to the no" as my sole comfort. With the yelling of "kiss my ass" to my neighbors in hopes that they too have been moved by the reality that is Being Bobby Brown.

I just looked at this photo and couldn't help but think that this man is the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the universe.
However, it turns out that Daniel John Lyons, 34, was trying to commit suicide by hurling his car off the monuments cliff in Colorado. He was recently accused of molesting a 4 year old child.

I'm so glad he didn't die. I can't wait until he gets acquainted with all his new cellmates. I think he really didn't see the light at the end of his tunnel. Oh, wait. That would be the cellmates shoving a flashlight up his ass. He probably wouldn't see that would he?
Maybe he should concentrate more on how well respected child molesters are in the jail community. I'm sorry. I'm giddy. I'd like to thank whomever made this possible. Whatever great source stopped that vehicle in time. Whoever prayed that that man would see a million of himself on his back in his lifetime. General motors, you deserve a little applause here too.
By the way, it's not gone completely unnoticed that he had a pervert van. So cliche.

This may very well be the dumbest slogan in the world. As opposed to the people that don't breathe? It's damn near close to racism if you ask me. All the "breathers" out there showing off their skill and sucking in all the air from the rest of us. Daring to tempt the gods by training their lungs to be swifter and more efficient.
I bet Lance Armstrong uses one of these devil contraptions. He sucks the most air of any human being I know. Selfish bastard. Who does he think he is anyway? Like, king of everyone who breathes? I can't stand people who are like that. Thinking their all king-like. Stomping around, breathing just because you can. Jeez, he's ridiculous. Embarrassing really. Go home, Lance, okay? No one wants you at this party. Just get on your bike and go.

I read that this Australian guy had his penis bitten off as he attempted to rape a raccoon. This picture above obviously has nothing to do with the incident but you get the idea of how slutty raccoons are to begin with, right?
I think it's unfair to just come out with the rape word, you know? That could scar a man for life and no one remembers you before you were the raccoon rapist. Trust me.

I, personally, am on the fence on this one.

For example, the 44 year old gentleman in question said to Moscow surgeons that he was drinking with friends, "When I saw the raccoon I thought I'd have some fun." Some "fun" ladies and gentlemen, now that doesn't sound like rape to me.
Besides, this man is 44, he is not a young impressionable youth who would not think about the consequences of his actions.

I say the raccoon wanted it. Out all night with no clothes on and all that mascara. Sashaying through the wilderness and just "happened" on to their drinking area?
The proof is here for me folks. Raccoons are the whores of the animal world, everybody knows that. She wanted it and took it as a little prize for her sick, sick collection.

Luckily, the surgeons have said, "He's been told they can get things working again but they can't sew back on what the raccoon bit off." i.e. because that bitch raccoon still has it in her possession.

Well, my thoughts are with him as well as his friend who said, "(There's a part of him) gone forever so there isn't going to be much for (the surgeons) to work with."
My advice to you, big guy, is to try the nickname "stumpy" so raccoon rapist doesn't stick. Yeah. That's what I'd do.

Good Luck Stumpy!!

Okay, this is more of a rant than informative to anyone so I apologize in advance. A friend of mine was really upset the other day and told me that she was going to cry. She told me. Going to.
What a load of crap. You either cry or you don't. By this comment she's telling me that she is in the middle of convincing herself to cry. And I am trying to convince myself not to hit her because that will make her cry.
Listen, I come from a big extended family. We don't cry a lot.
Because good lord help you if you display an ounce of weakness. They will tear you apart, limb from limb until your hard and callous and, um, I digress, that is another story.
If you cry in my family you are just looking for attention and if you say your going to cry, well, your just looking for an asswhoopin.
I believe that crying is a lot like masturbation. It's something you do alone, late at night, in your room, by yourself.
Or in the shower.
Nuff said.

My friend that I, er, enjoy a lie down with? Is out of town. We do this a lot. It seems that we are never in the same place at the same time. However, we love each other very much and are each very loyal. We find challenging and different ways to express our love. To say that skype has given me a thorough examination is an understatement.
You know where I am going with this people.
Can someone please invent porn wii? I know the technology is out there. I have seen the light at the end of my celibate struggle. I have weathered the sim storm. I want the future and I want it now.
Do it for our troops stationed far away from their partners. I'm pleading with you, let them stick their dick in a wii in Baghdad and let it enter their wives in Minnesota.
Do it for your country.