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| A eclectic Blog for people who like ketchup on their truffles. |
| None of that Shakespearean wordsmithing, Byronic imagery, or Marlowesque love lists for me. Too porky, too wimpy, and too whiney. Here is my idea of what a poem to a woman should be. I wrote this for a WDC contest and of course it didn't win, place, or show. Probably for good reason. Since this will never get published, I decided to burn it in my Blog. I COULD HAVE BEEN THE PRESIDENT I could have been the greatest of the presidents, The most honored of all the white house residents, With accolades accumulating by the pile, If it were not for the woman cramping my style. Behind every big shot, there is a woman, they say, But the helpmate that I’ve got just gets in my way. I have no time for lofty pursuits of the mind When my love throws me out into life’s daily grind. She fusses and fumes about the silliest bunk. She tosses my treasures and calls it old junk. She says I’m too fat. (I’m really a hunk.) A woman like that, no wonder I’m sunk! Can I ever invent the world’s greatest invention In this constant state of domestic contention? It’s a rat race out there and how can I gain While dragging round the ol ball and chain? I don’t have the heart to bring it all to a stop, Because I’m really quite happy being such a sop. And every time I think about her, I smile. I love that pretty woman cramping my style. |
| If God exists, then the female form is one of the things He/She got right. A lot of artists agree with me. Cavefolk were doing a great job of drawing naked women thousands of years ago. So why in the HELL, after ten thousand years, can’t these modern day graffiti nerds, who spend all their spare time defacing exterior walls and railroad cars, get it right? Why do people who obviously have never seen a naked woman attempt to draw them? Yes, graffiti retards, I'm talking to you here. I don't mind the obscene poems and limericks. Some of them are actually cute. I don't mind the all out of proportion spread shots drawn on the walls of public bathrooms. Those pictures are just between us guys, and maybe it's asking a lot of you to grunt and strain and draw at the same time. But when you draw this crap on exterior walls and overpasses and places where women can see it, it's embarrassing. By making women look bad, you're not making men look good. I would put your warped perspective down to the fact that you have to work fast, but there seems to be a pattern to the disproportionality, especially in the spread shots of long Barbie-on-steriods legs culminating in an asshole the size of Mars and a vagina that looks like something you'd send back at a seafood restaurant. I understand that you have no life. If you had a life, you wouldn’t have to go around drawing on walls. And I understand that being a little alienated from the opposite sex is just part of being a nerd, but minding the minutiae is also part of being a nerd. Please! In the future, handle drawing graffiti nudes the same way you handle the rest of your sex life. Get a Hustler, Penthouse, or SOMETHING and practice in private--before you go public. |
| I thought of myself as being in decent shape, until I discovered something called BMI. I was hoping that BMI stood for something like Beer in Me Index, which I, of course, would want as high as possible. Much to my horror, BMI stands for Bio Mass Index and it shouldn’t be too low or too high. The optimum range is between 18 and 25. 25 to 29 is fat, and over 29…well you don’t want to know. I calculated my BMI and it was 27.8. 29 is obese, so I stood in front of a mirror, confronted my BMI and growled, “You’re going down.” Toward achieving that goal, I'm implementing four initiatives: 1: No more imported beer. All my favorite beers are imported, so drinking domestic beer should reduce my beer consumption. Of course, I have to use up my current inventory of Heineken and Grolsch, a task I have already set to with alacrity. I just can’t bring myself to give up Guiness because it’s…well GUINESS. 2: No more fruity, soda pop mixed drinks like Sloe Gin Fizz, except of course for Margueritas and Pina Coladas. Giving up Margueritas and Pina Coladas would be disrespecting the communities of Mexico and Cuba, and I would never disrespect anybody’s community. 3: From here on out, I’m drinking dry wine rather than sweet wine. I don’t know if the sweetness of wine has anything to do with the sugar content, but why take chances. But since I don ‘t believe in leaving beer or wine in the bottle, if my sweetie buys a sweet wine and doesn’t finish the bottle in a reasonable amount of time, then a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. 4: Good thing we don’t have a big Russian community in Tucson. No more vodka bottle in the freezer. I better check on the size of the Finnish community first though. Now those four things together ought to do it. BMI, you're going down! |
| I agonized over what to label the collection of little articles that I post here. From reading around the site, most Blogs, or weB logs, seem to be online diaries, while I do more of an eclectic commentary thing. I thought about calling my body of work a Bessay for weB essay. Or how about Bwit for weB wit. Some might say that no wit is being displayed here, but no one can argue with BES for weB ES. I have also considered Bopinion for weB opinion and Bramble for weB ramble. Nothing was too far out: Buttering for weB utterings and Boffer. Much of what I write just comes out end over end, with no structure of any sort, but the name game got to ridiculous even for me when I found myself considering Bend over end! Finally, I just decided to stick with good, old fashioned, all-inclusive Blog. And whether or not you Bend over when you read my Blog, by the end of each post, I hope you’ll feel like you’ve been Buttered and Boffed by the BES(T). |
| My comedy muse is somewhere slacking off. All I seem to be able to do lately is whine. I am constantly distracted by all the pissed off people around me since we have brought the two little girls into our house. Apparently one side of the family is jealous and pissed off and the other side of the family is pissed off because these other people are jealous and pissed off. I can't fathom anybody being jealous and pissed off because they DON'T have to take care of two kids, but being surrounded by all these pissers and pissees is starting to piss me off. I just want piece and quiet, and I can't write ANYTHING because somebody is always whinng to me about something that somebody else said or did. The only person I care to hear from is my sweetie, the Bombastic Brit, who has been strangely subdued--albeit still complaining about those other people--as of late. The grownups, who are behaving badly, all say they're concerned about the kids, but I don't see what being an asswipe has to do with being concerned about kids. Now, like it or not, I'm drawn in. Yesterday, the father of the little girls drops them off after having them for the weekend. He was wearing his gun. Now I wasn't there to see it, but I don't wear a gun in my house. I'll be goddamned if somebody else is going to. It just goes to show how little sense these people have. (Now, I'm doing it!) I've waited a day to calm down. But I'm going to call the young man and set some rules of behavior for his dumb ass. Why can't HIS father do this? I'm about ready to chuck the lot of them... UH! You see what I mean about a constant whine. I'm just going to hold off on posting to my Blog until I can again write the way I want to. I'll keep up with my favs though and comment as usual. |
| How do I get one of those jobs where you sit around and argue about whether or not Pluto is a planet? It strikes me that there are a lot of jobs that pay good money, but are totally useless except for generating trivia questions. Most of those jobs are government jobs. DEA agent comes quickly to mind. I rank astronomers a little higher than DEA agents, because astronomers don’t hurt people. For me there is only one planet, Earth, with one moon and one sun. Everything else is space junk. I’d rather not even look for the comets and asteroids that will someday crash into us. If I’m going to die, why do I need to see it coming? Until we have a way to leave Earth in significant numbers, what difference does it make if there’s water on Mars or life on Uranus? Of course if those SETI people ever get a good signal back, everything changes. I think we should explore the source of that signal and I think we should send DEA out first. |
| Groan. The specter of corporate climbing looms over me. I’ve been promoted. I didn’t ask for a promotion. I just was. I don’t even want to be promoted. I’ve invested years in getting comfortable right where I am. I’ve worked for this company for less than 4 years and this is the second time that this has happened to me. For some reason, people have gotten the impression that I am capable. What’s a ne’er-do-well to do? My fearless leaders think that I can help develop a high powered work team. I think I should be blogging, and mapping the plot for my novel, during work hours. How can somebody as laid back as I am contribute to the development of a high powered anything? There are all kinds of people running around here looking for projects to do. Promote one of them. The really horrible thing is that a part of me wants the money. But a big part of the pay for this job is bonuses. I already get very good quarterly bonuses. I don’t know how significant a wage increase is going to be, but like Alfie of “My Fair Lady”, I just don’t have the heart to chuck it. Especially now, when I have 3 more mouths in the house to help feed. Responsibility sucks! |
I'm reading "Invalid Item"  . He talks about having a learning disablity. I get the feeling that he thinks having a learing disability is a somewhat rare condition. I'm not sure that I agree. But maybe I need a better definition.OK. Does having a learning disability mean that you're not smart or that you have a harder time than other people being smart. I mean, I know that, relatively speaking, I'm not stupid. But the fact that I'm not a dumb as my relatives, doesn't keep me from eating hot-as in spicy-food when I know I'm going to pay dearly for it later. That would seem to me the epitome of a learning disability. I can think of a lot of learning disabilities : People who drink too much even though they know they're going to get a hangover the next day. Ugly guys who keep making passes at cute chicks because they saw an Oprah episode where Oprah said that cute chicks were approachable.(How the hell would she know anyway!) Some people with learning disabilities don't even respond to immediate negative feedback. How about the idiots who keeps putting money into the soda machine even when no soda comes out. Then they kick and bang the machine. By now they should have figured out that the machine doesn't give a shit or sodas. I saw a guy in a fight once, who kept getting up after getting knocked down. Now there's a helluva learning disability. Of course he may have been knocked senseless with the 1st blow. I think a lot of people who are classified with a learning disability aren't learning disabled at all, because they seem to have no problem using common sense. Who cares if numbers look funny to them or they get bored while reading "War and Peace". |
My first grade teacher is dead.      Zip pah dee doo dah. Zip pah dee ay. My, oh my, what a wonderful day! You see, back in the days when I was in the 1st grade, teachers were allowed to use corporal punishment. I used to get smacked every day. I'd come home and my father would ask. "Did you get a whuppin today?". And I would have to answer, "Yes, Sir." I got whacked so much that I was the only 1st grader with a military title: Coporal Morgan. And I wasn't dumb either. It's just that, even at five years old, I was kind of laid back and that old biddy was hyper. She must have been on drugs or something. And when you're little and somebody works their mojo on you, they own you for the rest of your life, unless, of course, they die first. That old witch has had me under her mojo for almost fifty years, but now she's dead. That's right... SHE'S FUCKING DEAD!!! WOO HOO! And I'm not talking nearly dead. She's thoroughly and most sincerely dead! YIPPEE! YAH HOO!! and a YABBA DABBA DOO!!! YO HO! YO HO! YO HO! Ding dong the witch is dead. The wicked witch. The dirty old bitch. Ding dong, the wicked witch is ... Oh! Dare I say it? Oh, dare. DARE! DEA-YED DUH!!!...Free at last! Free at last! Thank Gawd Amighty! Free at last!  Lest you think me insensitive, I've written a short one-act play to illustrate a typical exchange between the small and helpless 1st grade me and my 1st grade teacher. Run Spot Run by ES Morgan The players: me, Spot, The Hellbound ACT I me: "Run. Spot. Run." The Hellbound: "Read with expression." And then is a high-pitched voice like she's reading to a stinking toddler, "ERRRuUN! Spottuh! ERRRuUN!" me: "Run. Spot. Run." The Hellbound: "READ with expression!" me: "The seatbelt sign is off. Spot, you are free to move about the cabin." The Hellbound: SSLAAPP!! me: "RUN, SPOT! RUN LIKE THE WIND!" Oh! Oh! Oh! The End Now maybe you'll understand why, when I heard of my 1st grade teacher's death, the first words out of my mouth were,"AAAOOOGA! AAAOOOGA! Dive, bitch! Dive!!!" And while I'm at it, fuck Spot too. OK. OK. I've gotten it out of my system. Perhaps I should send flowers. Does FTD do snapdragons? |
| Boy! I guess I really shot wide of the mark on that last entry. If the Nutball "Invalid Item" and the Moogster "Invalid Item" , who can usually wend her way effortlessly through the foggiest maze of my logic, don't get it, what hope is there for mere mortals who read here? I was trying to voice my support for the right of people to control their own lives and their own deaths. "Opportunity Knocks" was not in any way supposed to be a comment on the struggles of the Middle East. I don't even know where the Middle East is, except that it's obviously somewhere between the Near East and the Far East. It's just that now people who want to end their lives with dignity and on their own terms will have to turn elsewhere for support. I offered a suggestion to help them out, but that does not mean that I support the terrorists in any way. And that lack of support extends to their goals and objectives. I don't even think terrorists should be given the same consideration that we give most other rapists, murderers, and kidnappers. I'm for killing terrorists rather letting them hang out for a couple of years in some luxury hotel of a prison and then returning them to the streets to rape, murder, and kidnap again. But if it were possible for terrorists to use their skills in a manner that benefited society, shouldn't we explore that possibility? Having said all that, I'd really rather just... Free Dr. Kervorkian! |
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