Too good for the rest of us …

Seriously — after everything we know about Reggie Bush — THIS is surprising?

Ummm, yeah — not so much, douchebag.

*Thanks to those enterprising Mollygood readers for passing this one along to the rest of us!

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking and I agree — ‘cuz I’ll probably draft his punkass if I can get him on my fantasy team this year — but hey, I’d draft TO if I could get him or drug/injury-plagued Michael Irvin if he was still in da game —  so don’t look for ME to be your moral friggin’ compass when it comes to this shit!

I’m just sayin’, is all – if you think you’re too good to give your petty John Hancock to the less-fortunate — look OUT for Karma to wail on your stupid ass!

Back in my day …

The time seems fast approaching when I just may find myself using this very phrase — a phrase I have forever associated with a certain craggy geriatric fool waving a jiggly, spotted, paper-skinned arm shakily in the air while yelling at me to get my ‘goddamned dog’ off his lawn …

‘Back in my day …’

See, it dawned on me recently that the generation behind me has no memory of things my peers considered groundbreaking — back in the day.
Remember Prodigy?
*the old internet service, not the totally kick-ASS group responsible for timeless classics like Smack My Bitch Up*

Back in ‘our’ day — we were cool and oh-so-cutting-edge because we were part of the elite group using space-aged new-fangled technologies like email (ooooo) and ‘The Internet’ (aaahhhhh)
 — way, way, WAY back in our day meaning, well, the early 90’s.

But it’s ok.

I may not be old enough to remember some of the big stitches (bring on the hee hee) in the fabric of ‘modern’ time like:
The oil crisis of the 70s (You mean there was one before now?!?  😉
Freddy Prinze, Sr. (who?)
Trash-80s (4 KB of RAM – hahahahaHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!)
dollar-a-gallon gasoline (no link — I’m told it was around a while back …)

But I am old enough to confidently apply the ‘Back in my day’ label to things like:
Timothy McVeigh
::: Back in my day, there was this crazy-ass fucktard bastard American who hated America and all the l’il ol’ Americans in it … :::

eBay
::: Back in my day, you could take any old piece of shit you didn’t want anymore, slap a pricetag on it and watch any idiot with a computer try to buy it … :::

Lemony Snicket
::: Back in my day, there were these freaky-ass books that scared the shit out of kids but it was cool because it reminded them that reading was kinda nifty … well, that and some weirdo boy wizard named Harry or something …:::

and paper plane tickets

Yup, that’s right — paper plane tickets.

The paper airline ticket officially goes the way of the dinasaur on Sunday, June 1 (also the beginning of the Atlantic Hurricane Season, but I digress …) when hundreds of carriers switch to all electronic ticketing, much of it through internet booking.
Yay — the Internet wins again!!!!

Take a moment.
Shed a tear.

Now smile and get over it.
Change is good, you old coot! 

Just sayin’ (again) …

When you have so much plastic embedded in your person that you no longer look like a, well, like a person – maybe it’s time to stop? Ya think?!?

Jocelyn Wildenstein has had multiple silicone injections into what used to resemble human lips, cheeks, and chin. She also found a surgical hack to do one fugged-up facelift and eye reconstruction to make her look more “feline”. 

People call her the Cat Lady, but she looks more like Wayland Flowers’ bitchy handsock ‘Madame’ to The Cookie.

C’mon – you know you see it — and I know what else you’re thinking … ——————–>

::: mmm hmmmmm, THASraht :::

And when you think about it, they’re really no different than dispoable, plastic bottles … it’ll take about 1,000 years in a landfill to get rid of them all!

Phun with Photos

Who took it?

Love it or hate it?

Why?

Obama’s Uncle was a Commie?!?

Well no. Not really.
Barry was just, uhh, confused.

See, normally  when my imaginary boyfriend Barry speaks, sunshine, puppies and happy, shiny smiley faces fly out of his mouth.
But during a speech this Memorial Day he was spittin’ Jew every  whichaway!!

OH MY!!

Oh yes!
Seems The People’s Prince was absent the day they taught a certain part of World War II history.
Pity that cause there would be one BIG Ol’ half of MY family who would love to give him some thankful Jewish lovin’ for settin’ our people free … if only it weren’t a big ol’ lie verbal misunderstanding.

Beautiful Barry wove his fantastical tale of truly unbelievable patriotism before an invitation-only crowd at in southern New Mexico where he spoke about an unnamed uncle who was part of the American brigade that liberated Auschwitz.

::: EEEEERRRRRCCCCKKKKKK!!! :::

Yeah … seems the speechwriter family historian forgot that it was a group of Soviets who, on January 27, 1945, entered the deathcamp and set free more than 7,000 remaining prisoners.

::: Maybe Barry’s folks were there earlier and just couldn’t fit everyone into the Humvee?? Ya think?? :::

He said the apparently untrue ‘family legend’ being twisted to suit this specific event for the explicit purpose of garnering political support is that, upon returning from war, his uncle spent six months in an attic.

“Now obviously, something had really affected him deeply, but at that time there just weren’t the kinds of facilities to help somebody work through that kind of pain,” Obeautiful said as he segued into a clever buncha words about his support for the GI Bill.

“In World War II we didn’t have the concept of post-traumatic stress syndrome.”

::: I guess they didn’t have stairs up to the attic either :::

“People had to basically handle it on their own.” he explained. “That’s why this idea of making sure that every single veteran, when they are discharged, are screened for post-traumatic stress disorder and given the mental health services that they need – that’s why it’s so important.”

And with that all was good and right with the world because, once again, the muddled message did, indeed, have a bigger meaning.

::: Ahhhh, sooooooothing Barrrrrrryyyyyy :::

You know, the side of me in love with Barry the idea of real, true, pure hope in the possibility of real, true, pure change wants to give him the benefit of the doubt on this one and agree that, you know, if one of my family members came back from what will be his third tour-of-duty in Iraq and told us all how his unit freed the people of Darfur … well, I too would want to get my delusional relative the much-needed help they so rightly deserved — just like my daydream believer!

Well, all of that except … well … ALL of that, goddammit!!

Yeah, see, I don’t think I’d use a made-up family ‘memory’ to curry election-year favor with voters only marginally in tune with my message. But hey, I’m not a politician. They have to lie to get elected … even Mr. Obeautiful himself, it seems.

But damn lover! Did you have to go to the land of Pandermonium so soon?!?