Elections are over. Finally, I can drive to work without having to listen to NPR every single day. As a sober alcoholic, Politics can become a serious problem for this gentleman hatwearer. Talk about things that are out of my realm of control.
I am happy to report a clean sweep for Democrats. For the most part, all contested seats went to the party that actually gives a damn about people. We took the Govnah's seat, again. I am very pleased.
But what the hell happened to the rest of the country? We are in a world of shit folks. A world of shit. Tea-Party candidates provided me with much entertainment (Sharon Angle to a group of Latino students: "You don't all look Latino to me, some of you look a little more Asian.") Wow, way to throw away a senate bid Sharon. But then a lot of them actually won.....I seriously thought they were joking this whole time.
No joke, a world of hurt, America. Brace yourselves hat-men this could be a rough couple of years.
In other news, dean has gone Yellow....what a mighty fine fellow.
Goodnight.
2010/11/03
2010/10/16
How can you argue?
October 16, 2010
Upon attendance of an awe-inspiring rally featuring the following characters:
President Obama
Gov. Deval Patrick
Mayor Tom Menino
Rep. Ed Markey
My not so favorite Senator Kerry
Former Senator Kennedy's wife Vicky Kennedy
Singer Songwriter James Taylor
How can anyone with a heart, mind and or soul argue with the policies of Obama and Gov. Patrick???
It was made abundantly clear for Me, PW Hatsley once again why I am a Social Democrat.
IT MAKES SENSE.
I was moved to tears on numerous occasions. I felt embarrassed by this a few times, until I looked to my right and saw a huge black man shedding the same tears of joy, relief, pride, and genuine love. I then looked behind me and saw a life-long schoolteacher/librarian crying. I looked to my left, where my editor-in-chief/soulmate was crying. It was truly amazing.
Deval was on FIRE. Not cook-out in the backyard on fire, but burn down the establishment fire, Catch a fire fire, and Trample dem, Trample dem, Trample dem (Babylon) fire. Watch out White Bread Baker, cuz.....WE NOT DONE YET.....
He was spitting the stuff that got him elected, the stuff that MLK spoke of. The Dream that was brought to us by our fore-fathers, and the dream that JFK, RFk, and Teddy K were famous for.
He was electric. He got my vote. He made me proud to be an American, proud to be a Massachusettsian, and Proud to be a Democrat......Thank God for Gov. Patrick.
And James Taylor...damn. How do you still manage to do it? Evry time baby.....I'll rockabye sweet baby James til they put me in the ground.
Thats all for tonight. I promise to try to be funny again once the elections are ovah.
Peace and Harmony.
Blog blog What?!?!?!
-PW Hatsley
to all my Greentown crew......keep on rockin in the Free World.
Upon attendance of an awe-inspiring rally featuring the following characters:
President Obama
Gov. Deval Patrick
Mayor Tom Menino
Rep. Ed Markey
My not so favorite Senator Kerry
Former Senator Kennedy's wife Vicky Kennedy
Singer Songwriter James Taylor
How can anyone with a heart, mind and or soul argue with the policies of Obama and Gov. Patrick???
It was made abundantly clear for Me, PW Hatsley once again why I am a Social Democrat.
IT MAKES SENSE.
I was moved to tears on numerous occasions. I felt embarrassed by this a few times, until I looked to my right and saw a huge black man shedding the same tears of joy, relief, pride, and genuine love. I then looked behind me and saw a life-long schoolteacher/librarian crying. I looked to my left, where my editor-in-chief/soulmate was crying. It was truly amazing.
Deval was on FIRE. Not cook-out in the backyard on fire, but burn down the establishment fire, Catch a fire fire, and Trample dem, Trample dem, Trample dem (Babylon) fire. Watch out White Bread Baker, cuz.....WE NOT DONE YET.....
He was spitting the stuff that got him elected, the stuff that MLK spoke of. The Dream that was brought to us by our fore-fathers, and the dream that JFK, RFk, and Teddy K were famous for.
He was electric. He got my vote. He made me proud to be an American, proud to be a Massachusettsian, and Proud to be a Democrat......Thank God for Gov. Patrick.
And James Taylor...damn. How do you still manage to do it? Evry time baby.....I'll rockabye sweet baby James til they put me in the ground.
Thats all for tonight. I promise to try to be funny again once the elections are ovah.
Peace and Harmony.
Blog blog What?!?!?!
-PW Hatsley
to all my Greentown crew......keep on rockin in the Free World.
2010/10/14
Still callin
The biggest problem I have with Dems was best put by my co-worker Java Pakistino:
"Democrats have no guts, they're always bringing a pencil to a knife fight."
Or my bowling buddy Brim Foldlook said:
"The Democrats know what they're doing, but the one thing they are horrible at is bragging."
Both quotes are very astute.
BHO, Deval Patrick, Dick Durbin, name any other effective and hard-working leader in the Democratic party and you will find a pattern.
They bust their asses serving their constituencies. They listen to the voter, they try to make changes, they truly care.
But put them in a room with Republifucks, and you will find that they back down. I understand that Republicans killed JFK for being smart and effective. I get it that Repubicans carry Guns, bomb innocent people, and deny any wrong doing they are accussed of, but DAMN. Stand up for you fucking rights, your opinions.
If they are practicing saying NO, then we say yes. We have had a majority for 2 years now. We have a lot to show for it. We need more. We are still so far from a socially just society.
Fuck Bill Gates, Fuck Alexander Hamilton, fuck Reagan. Fuck Bush 1, II and Jebby. Fuck em. Fuck the incumbent conservatives, fuck Ramblin Paul, and screw Meg Whitman in her Ebay face.
Shut them down in November, stop listening to the bullshit they spew, and for God sakes Dems, bring a knife to the table this time.
Yours in anger:
PW Hatsley
Chief Angry Consultant
Framingtown Proper
"Democrats have no guts, they're always bringing a pencil to a knife fight."
Or my bowling buddy Brim Foldlook said:
"The Democrats know what they're doing, but the one thing they are horrible at is bragging."
Both quotes are very astute.
BHO, Deval Patrick, Dick Durbin, name any other effective and hard-working leader in the Democratic party and you will find a pattern.
They bust their asses serving their constituencies. They listen to the voter, they try to make changes, they truly care.
But put them in a room with Republifucks, and you will find that they back down. I understand that Republicans killed JFK for being smart and effective. I get it that Repubicans carry Guns, bomb innocent people, and deny any wrong doing they are accussed of, but DAMN. Stand up for you fucking rights, your opinions.
If they are practicing saying NO, then we say yes. We have had a majority for 2 years now. We have a lot to show for it. We need more. We are still so far from a socially just society.
Fuck Bill Gates, Fuck Alexander Hamilton, fuck Reagan. Fuck Bush 1, II and Jebby. Fuck em. Fuck the incumbent conservatives, fuck Ramblin Paul, and screw Meg Whitman in her Ebay face.
Shut them down in November, stop listening to the bullshit they spew, and for God sakes Dems, bring a knife to the table this time.
Yours in anger:
PW Hatsley
Chief Angry Consultant
Framingtown Proper
Tim Win in Sight
Tim Murray Campaign for Gov.
Don’t Break up the fight let, Let ‘em rumble…..
So I must be sick in my hathead, but I am back on the campaign trail….part time this time around.
I called 54 people last night out of the Milford Democratic Campaign office. Here are the numbers:
3 people will vote for Mr. Patrick and Mr. Murray.
7 people will vote for Congressman Neal, the US Congress Rep for that district.
18 people have a serious problem with DP and TM, because they quote: “HAVENT DONE ANYTHING FOR US”
3 people had no idea who Deval Patrick was.
1 guy told me all about how he thinks that the government is set up to give blacks and jews all of our tax money.
Ok, that’s fine…..WTF??!?!?!
Anyway, I make calls and help teach volunteers how to do it. I explain to the volunteers how we are just trying to call to reach out and talk to voters. The main goal is to figure out whether or not they are voting, who they might vote for, and if they need a ride to the polls on 11-2.
Two of my volunteers spent 1 hour talking to the person next to them, then when one of them was on the phone they told the person that Tim Murray was going to be the Governor in 2 years. I almost smacked the woman. God help us……
Hope all is well in the hatland. I am looking forward to the weekend. Hope Bean Spoony is good. I hope Mr Greglegs is enjoying his new Legwork. And Slimerman, I got nothing but love for you……Til next time…….
Don’t Break up the fight let, Let ‘em rumble…..
So I must be sick in my hathead, but I am back on the campaign trail….part time this time around.
I called 54 people last night out of the Milford Democratic Campaign office. Here are the numbers:
3 people will vote for Mr. Patrick and Mr. Murray.
7 people will vote for Congressman Neal, the US Congress Rep for that district.
18 people have a serious problem with DP and TM, because they quote: “HAVENT DONE ANYTHING FOR US”
3 people had no idea who Deval Patrick was.
1 guy told me all about how he thinks that the government is set up to give blacks and jews all of our tax money.
Ok, that’s fine…..WTF??!?!?!
Anyway, I make calls and help teach volunteers how to do it. I explain to the volunteers how we are just trying to call to reach out and talk to voters. The main goal is to figure out whether or not they are voting, who they might vote for, and if they need a ride to the polls on 11-2.
Two of my volunteers spent 1 hour talking to the person next to them, then when one of them was on the phone they told the person that Tim Murray was going to be the Governor in 2 years. I almost smacked the woman. God help us……
Hope all is well in the hatland. I am looking forward to the weekend. Hope Bean Spoony is good. I hope Mr Greglegs is enjoying his new Legwork. And Slimerman, I got nothing but love for you……Til next time…….
2010/09/26
Contract for Freemerica
Late September 2010
Newt the Gingrich is up to it again. The "contract for America" it is called.
Newt has claimed that he and other conservatives have created a document which entails the American spirit, the freedom that the original founders of our nation intended. The document makes it clear what America stands for. It also lays out a plan for getting the country out of debt. There is even an extensive social agenda in the document, which talks about keeping our children safe, and keeping the terrorists out.
Now wait a minute folks. Stop. Newt had his chance. He was persona non grata for a long time in government. What does he think has changed?
First, the financial plan to get us out of debt is weak, unclear, and includes tax cuts which will hinder our ability to pay off debt.
I will admit that our children need to be safe, but I don't know a single democrat, socialist, or left-winger who is in favor of child danger.
Lastly, who the F*&# does he think he is? Who the hell gave him the microphone? Why do we even allow him to talk anymore?
The founders of this country were racist, gentrified, and bigoted. Every president we have had, with the exception of FDR, JFK, Carter, and now BHR have been Waspy, arrogant, angry, and inept.
We have the chance to change the old way. We have an opportunity to make our country free, for the first time. Now is the time to create a union in which every child has an equal opportunity to succeed. Finally, there is a real chance to fix this mess.
Now don't get me wrong, I am as white as the next guy (probably whiter.) But I am also an Irish Catholic. The last 20 years have seen Catholics gain more power, and we have started to get a foothold in society. This is new.....repeat...this is new.
But this does not mean that we are equal in the eyes of protestant Americans. Also, workers have never been equal in the eyes of land-holders, business owners, and money-changers.
I am obviously rambling.....but I will leave you with this:
We the citizens of the USA:
1. Pay taxes. (we drive on roads that are tax payer funded. we expect the police to do their jobs, we send our children to schools, and we want our country to be safe)
2. Do not support discrimination of any sort (economic, spiritual, religious, or gender-based.) This does not mean that as individuals we do not have pre-conceived notions. The point is that as a whole, we can not or will not put ANY group out in the cold.
3. VOTE VOTE VOTE......every citizen needs to show up to the polls. If we need to impose an Australian-like fine for voters who neglet their duty, so be it.
4. Care for our children, elderly, and fellows.
5. Relax once in awhile, trust in God, and trust in the process of politics.
6. Read historical texts BEFORE we jump to conclusions and spout off about shit that does not make sense.
7. Look for our own faults and shortcomings before we blame others.
8. Work, work, work. Shut up and do something.
I understand that this is not funny. But I have had enough. Obama was elected to one term as President of the USA. He may be half black, but he won fair and square. He has not committed any atrocious acts, so give him a chance. If we don't like the results, we have the right to vote for a new guy. Deal with it.
Thanks, and GO PATRIOTS.
Newt the Gingrich is up to it again. The "contract for America" it is called.
Newt has claimed that he and other conservatives have created a document which entails the American spirit, the freedom that the original founders of our nation intended. The document makes it clear what America stands for. It also lays out a plan for getting the country out of debt. There is even an extensive social agenda in the document, which talks about keeping our children safe, and keeping the terrorists out.
Now wait a minute folks. Stop. Newt had his chance. He was persona non grata for a long time in government. What does he think has changed?
First, the financial plan to get us out of debt is weak, unclear, and includes tax cuts which will hinder our ability to pay off debt.
I will admit that our children need to be safe, but I don't know a single democrat, socialist, or left-winger who is in favor of child danger.
Lastly, who the F*&# does he think he is? Who the hell gave him the microphone? Why do we even allow him to talk anymore?
The founders of this country were racist, gentrified, and bigoted. Every president we have had, with the exception of FDR, JFK, Carter, and now BHR have been Waspy, arrogant, angry, and inept.
We have the chance to change the old way. We have an opportunity to make our country free, for the first time. Now is the time to create a union in which every child has an equal opportunity to succeed. Finally, there is a real chance to fix this mess.
Now don't get me wrong, I am as white as the next guy (probably whiter.) But I am also an Irish Catholic. The last 20 years have seen Catholics gain more power, and we have started to get a foothold in society. This is new.....repeat...this is new.
But this does not mean that we are equal in the eyes of protestant Americans. Also, workers have never been equal in the eyes of land-holders, business owners, and money-changers.
I am obviously rambling.....but I will leave you with this:
We the citizens of the USA:
1. Pay taxes. (we drive on roads that are tax payer funded. we expect the police to do their jobs, we send our children to schools, and we want our country to be safe)
2. Do not support discrimination of any sort (economic, spiritual, religious, or gender-based.) This does not mean that as individuals we do not have pre-conceived notions. The point is that as a whole, we can not or will not put ANY group out in the cold.
3. VOTE VOTE VOTE......every citizen needs to show up to the polls. If we need to impose an Australian-like fine for voters who neglet their duty, so be it.
4. Care for our children, elderly, and fellows.
5. Relax once in awhile, trust in God, and trust in the process of politics.
6. Read historical texts BEFORE we jump to conclusions and spout off about shit that does not make sense.
7. Look for our own faults and shortcomings before we blame others.
8. Work, work, work. Shut up and do something.
I understand that this is not funny. But I have had enough. Obama was elected to one term as President of the USA. He may be half black, but he won fair and square. He has not committed any atrocious acts, so give him a chance. If we don't like the results, we have the right to vote for a new guy. Deal with it.
Thanks, and GO PATRIOTS.
2010/09/19
Hang back and Watch the Fun
Sept 19 2010
Fresh from a weekend in VT, Pat X Anyhat just has a few remarks for the faithful.
Is anyone else out there fascinated with Sarah Palin?
I have gone from angry, to amazed, to angry, to shitfounded.
Now I just can't wait to see what is next out of her mouth.
She is really pissing off the true blue, who knew, elaphanitle conservatives out there. I get upset that people like her, but man has she fucked up the political world for the haves. The have-nots are still without, but people who have money and like to control the country are just at wits end here. A woman who can't even spell Alaska (without the help of Microsoft Word) has taken a part in many elections here in these United States. What a schtick she has going.
The woman worships in a crazy conservative hellfire pentacostal church, but acts like a soccer-mom who cares about her kids. She had a retarded child (we think) and just keeps traveling around the country talking about the same nonsense that she has been babbling since she left her post as the Governor of Russia (Alaska)
Who listens to her? Who thinks she makes sense? Seriously folks. And what the hell is Reagan thinking, as he watches from Hell? That's right, PW Hatsley maintains that Reagen resides in a Money-lie-death-hell. His hell is: Reagan has come back to earth in the form of a 3 year old black boy in Alabama. Poor guy, his policies have made it impossible for him to get an education, 3 meals a day, or to have his usual 3 drinks a night.
Anyway, Sarah Palin is running around talking about god-knows what, and people care!
I'm just going to step back this election season, and stare in wonder at the damage she does to the established Elephants (G.O.P.)
Go Sarah! Endorse some more idiots! Can't wait to see who's next: (Charles Barkley? After all: she needs to prove that she's not racist!)
Goodnight Readers.
TOM BRADY SUCKS.
PW Hattington
Fresh from a weekend in VT, Pat X Anyhat just has a few remarks for the faithful.
Is anyone else out there fascinated with Sarah Palin?
I have gone from angry, to amazed, to angry, to shitfounded.
Now I just can't wait to see what is next out of her mouth.
She is really pissing off the true blue, who knew, elaphanitle conservatives out there. I get upset that people like her, but man has she fucked up the political world for the haves. The have-nots are still without, but people who have money and like to control the country are just at wits end here. A woman who can't even spell Alaska (without the help of Microsoft Word) has taken a part in many elections here in these United States. What a schtick she has going.
The woman worships in a crazy conservative hellfire pentacostal church, but acts like a soccer-mom who cares about her kids. She had a retarded child (we think) and just keeps traveling around the country talking about the same nonsense that she has been babbling since she left her post as the Governor of Russia (Alaska)
Who listens to her? Who thinks she makes sense? Seriously folks. And what the hell is Reagan thinking, as he watches from Hell? That's right, PW Hatsley maintains that Reagen resides in a Money-lie-death-hell. His hell is: Reagan has come back to earth in the form of a 3 year old black boy in Alabama. Poor guy, his policies have made it impossible for him to get an education, 3 meals a day, or to have his usual 3 drinks a night.
Anyway, Sarah Palin is running around talking about god-knows what, and people care!
I'm just going to step back this election season, and stare in wonder at the damage she does to the established Elephants (G.O.P.)
Go Sarah! Endorse some more idiots! Can't wait to see who's next: (Charles Barkley? After all: she needs to prove that she's not racist!)
Goodnight Readers.
TOM BRADY SUCKS.
PW Hattington
2010/08/28
The Chicken Mayor
As if I even needed another reason to love Tom Menino:
Menino opened up an organic farm on Long Island (Boston harbor)
He was in the Globe today saying "Bawk, Bawk, Bawk, Bawk."
The farm is being tended by kids who are in trouble with the law, and organic farming experts.....Love you Menino
Also, He was recently awarded the highest honor an Italian can receive...
He was knighted by the Italian Monarchy.....Commandatore Menino.
-PW Hatsley
Menino opened up an organic farm on Long Island (Boston harbor)
He was in the Globe today saying "Bawk, Bawk, Bawk, Bawk."
The farm is being tended by kids who are in trouble with the law, and organic farming experts.....Love you Menino
Also, He was recently awarded the highest honor an Italian can receive...
He was knighted by the Italian Monarchy.....Commandatore Menino.
-PW Hatsley
Climbing Green
Climbing, Not Smoking
I have discovered a new way to get high (please excuse the bad pun.) Instead of smoking trees, I have learned to practice the ancient monkey art of climbing them.
It all started when my 3 year old niece (Kaevee) was in town. We were playing a game she likes to call Monster. This game involves one of us being the monster, and chasing the other. I started out as the monster, which I found fun. I growled, crawled on all fours, and chased her around the yard. When was her turn to “scare” me, she started chasing me. I was alarmed at her stamina, and soon grew weary of running.
My next move changed my life forever. Instead of continuing to run, I climbed a tree with low hanging branches. Soon I was in the safety of a big oak tree. I was very proud of myself, Kaevee not so much.
She yelled….
“YOU GET DOWN UNCLE PATchwork, right NOW!”
I said, “Why?”
She responded….”Because I can’t get you up there!”
I started to howl like a monkey and shake the branches. She was slightly amused. Mind you, this was just after I had helped her “sled” down the grassy hill. I was exhausted, and outmatched by her youth, vigor, and sheer enthusiasm. The problem is that she is so cute, I can’t say no to her.
I climbed down, but my obsession with climbing trees was born.
The next day, I climbed the same tree and my brother Tim said “that’s weird, let’s play waffle ball.”
When I told my dad about how much I liked it, he admitted to me that he spent the first 18 years of his life climbing trees. (yet another reason to love him)MY DAD IS THE MAN.
After the weekend, my sister in law returned to her homestead, and I was looking for the picture she took while I was doing my best monkey accent in the tree. I posted to her Facemail page “do you have any pictures of a monkey uncle in a tree?”
My uncle felt offended by the comment, and quickly replied…..
“HUH?!?!” I found this to be hilarious, and his fear of ridicule was assuaged by the forthcoming picture of me in a tree.
Flash forward one month…..I climbed the same tree. Dad was with the lil one again, and she said…
“Let’s get Patrick down right now”
Dad said, “How can we do that?”
he said: “let’s yell at him.”
Dad replied, “Or we could throw rocks at him!”
She scared me down when she said “YEAH, let’s throw rocks at him.”
I hustled down from my perch, as she tried to select a good rock to throw at me.
Moral of the story:
So instead of smoking stuff that ruins Patch’s ambition, Mr. Hatsley will be climbing trees from now on……it will come in handy when the world is coming to an end, and the waters rise.
Happy weekend readers….remember to smile for smiling’s sake.
I have discovered a new way to get high (please excuse the bad pun.) Instead of smoking trees, I have learned to practice the ancient monkey art of climbing them.
It all started when my 3 year old niece (Kaevee) was in town. We were playing a game she likes to call Monster. This game involves one of us being the monster, and chasing the other. I started out as the monster, which I found fun. I growled, crawled on all fours, and chased her around the yard. When was her turn to “scare” me, she started chasing me. I was alarmed at her stamina, and soon grew weary of running.
My next move changed my life forever. Instead of continuing to run, I climbed a tree with low hanging branches. Soon I was in the safety of a big oak tree. I was very proud of myself, Kaevee not so much.
She yelled….
“YOU GET DOWN UNCLE PATchwork, right NOW!”
I said, “Why?”
She responded….”Because I can’t get you up there!”
I started to howl like a monkey and shake the branches. She was slightly amused. Mind you, this was just after I had helped her “sled” down the grassy hill. I was exhausted, and outmatched by her youth, vigor, and sheer enthusiasm. The problem is that she is so cute, I can’t say no to her.
I climbed down, but my obsession with climbing trees was born.
The next day, I climbed the same tree and my brother Tim said “that’s weird, let’s play waffle ball.”
When I told my dad about how much I liked it, he admitted to me that he spent the first 18 years of his life climbing trees. (yet another reason to love him)MY DAD IS THE MAN.
After the weekend, my sister in law returned to her homestead, and I was looking for the picture she took while I was doing my best monkey accent in the tree. I posted to her Facemail page “do you have any pictures of a monkey uncle in a tree?”
My uncle felt offended by the comment, and quickly replied…..
“HUH?!?!” I found this to be hilarious, and his fear of ridicule was assuaged by the forthcoming picture of me in a tree.
Flash forward one month…..I climbed the same tree. Dad was with the lil one again, and she said…
“Let’s get Patrick down right now”
Dad said, “How can we do that?”
he said: “let’s yell at him.”
Dad replied, “Or we could throw rocks at him!”
She scared me down when she said “YEAH, let’s throw rocks at him.”
I hustled down from my perch, as she tried to select a good rock to throw at me.
Moral of the story:
So instead of smoking stuff that ruins Patch’s ambition, Mr. Hatsley will be climbing trees from now on……it will come in handy when the world is coming to an end, and the waters rise.
Happy weekend readers….remember to smile for smiling’s sake.
2010/08/22
Plan for the Future
Green Street Farmville
We all know that my dream is to own and operate a farm. (If you didn’t know that please don’t judge me.)
The point is, it’s going to take a green street crew to get the Gregleg work done. The farm location is still up in the air. Based on end of days thought and climate change, western Canada is looking like the only possibility.
Once the zombies and werewolves take over, 7.47 years from now (by Zombies, I am referring to Rand Paul and all other nutbag teabaggers) we will need a safe location to be noimal people.
So we will have a farm, big whoop, wanna fight about it?
My main intention for the farm is to raise fish. Fish for food, fish for fishing, and fish for fish-hats. There will be a lot of fish farming going on. But we will need other crops. That is where the green street crew becomes instrumental.
Our international arms deal is Mr. Noseworthy.
Our head of security and protection is Sybon Bigman.
The governor and peacekeeping rep is Art Gregan.
Bean Spoonerfield is going to be in charge of farm resident fitness, selection of technology, and cost accountant.
Bees will be handled by Mr. Donovan.
Coach Adrian will handle all swim lessons, water polo tournaments, and fish training.
Ant Lambo will handle engineering duties, as well as upkeep of equipment. His role is vital, and he will be the unofficial king of Green Street Farmville.
There will be three bowling alleys on the Farmville.
Duckpin bowling alley: Duckme Bowler, Inc.
Candlepin Bowling alley: Pindlecan Bowl
10-pin Bowling alley: Who’s got Big Balls, Co.
We all know that my dream is to own and operate a farm. (If you didn’t know that please don’t judge me.)
The point is, it’s going to take a green street crew to get the Gregleg work done. The farm location is still up in the air. Based on end of days thought and climate change, western Canada is looking like the only possibility.
Once the zombies and werewolves take over, 7.47 years from now (by Zombies, I am referring to Rand Paul and all other nutbag teabaggers) we will need a safe location to be noimal people.
So we will have a farm, big whoop, wanna fight about it?
My main intention for the farm is to raise fish. Fish for food, fish for fishing, and fish for fish-hats. There will be a lot of fish farming going on. But we will need other crops. That is where the green street crew becomes instrumental.
Our international arms deal is Mr. Noseworthy.
Our head of security and protection is Sybon Bigman.
The governor and peacekeeping rep is Art Gregan.
Bean Spoonerfield is going to be in charge of farm resident fitness, selection of technology, and cost accountant.
Bees will be handled by Mr. Donovan.
Coach Adrian will handle all swim lessons, water polo tournaments, and fish training.
Ant Lambo will handle engineering duties, as well as upkeep of equipment. His role is vital, and he will be the unofficial king of Green Street Farmville.
There will be three bowling alleys on the Farmville.
Duckpin bowling alley: Duckme Bowler, Inc.
Candlepin Bowling alley: Pindlecan Bowl
10-pin Bowling alley: Who’s got Big Balls, Co.
2010/07/17
Do I miss it?
Do I miss it?
I went for a long walk tonight. Walking usually gives me a good opportunity to think, provided I am not on my way to work, to a meeting, or to some other thought occupying engagement.
On my walk tonight, I began to think about my past messes. I thought about how hectic life was. It came to my attention that life is really a lot less stressful these days.
For that I am grateful. On this walk, I realized that at times I miss the drama.
When I was doing bad things, I always had a crisis to attend to. I usually was able to talk my way out of it. At times I couldn’t and I would drink to quell the rising guilt, stress, or general discomfort that my behavior had caused.
That “out” is gone. That stress is fading as well.
I am not sitting here spouting off that life is easy. That would be quite a fantastic lie. The point is that I don’t have to drink away my feelings. I can deal with them, as they crop up.
So back to the focus of this piece, do I miss that old way of life? I don’t. Do I miss waking up in the morning, wondering who I had harmed, how much money I had spent, or what the hell happened the night before? No.
This is one of the gifts I am given in sobriety. It is a blessing. The gift of reason (at times) is starting to show itself. The gift of better judgment is creeping in as well. The gift of sanity, although evasive at times, has started to fall into my life.
I will keep showing up to meetings. Something magical is happening there. I will continue to listen to those who are also struggling with the pain of addiction, of loss, of heartache.
Have a great night, folks.
PW Hatsley
I went for a long walk tonight. Walking usually gives me a good opportunity to think, provided I am not on my way to work, to a meeting, or to some other thought occupying engagement.
On my walk tonight, I began to think about my past messes. I thought about how hectic life was. It came to my attention that life is really a lot less stressful these days.
For that I am grateful. On this walk, I realized that at times I miss the drama.
When I was doing bad things, I always had a crisis to attend to. I usually was able to talk my way out of it. At times I couldn’t and I would drink to quell the rising guilt, stress, or general discomfort that my behavior had caused.
That “out” is gone. That stress is fading as well.
I am not sitting here spouting off that life is easy. That would be quite a fantastic lie. The point is that I don’t have to drink away my feelings. I can deal with them, as they crop up.
So back to the focus of this piece, do I miss that old way of life? I don’t. Do I miss waking up in the morning, wondering who I had harmed, how much money I had spent, or what the hell happened the night before? No.
This is one of the gifts I am given in sobriety. It is a blessing. The gift of reason (at times) is starting to show itself. The gift of better judgment is creeping in as well. The gift of sanity, although evasive at times, has started to fall into my life.
I will keep showing up to meetings. Something magical is happening there. I will continue to listen to those who are also struggling with the pain of addiction, of loss, of heartache.
Have a great night, folks.
PW Hatsley
Fishme a new one
Fishing for Unity
I may be obsessed with fishing. For someone who does not fish very often, (anymore) I think about it probably 5 times per day. Some of those periods of thought are 30 minutes in length.
I used the subject of fishing at work to get the VP of Engineering to “like” me.
This guy is a tight ass teabagger. He is a self-important dude, from Texas who really loves to hear himself chat.
He thinks he has the answer to everything. He actually is a genius, and his engineering skills are immense. But I felt really harassed by this guy from the start. He would walk by my desk and flash a sarcastic peace sign. Often, when talking to prospective contractors, he would tell stories about his grandfather, who nearly died in WW2. I would hold my resentment towards him, because of his power in the company. I never told him that both of my grandfathers, plus my father and brother, had served in War for the US.
Anyway, the way I turned this guy from enema to friend was quite simple. I asked him about fishing. His eyes lit up. Political grudges slipped away. He started to tell me all about his salt-water fishing vessel.
I jumped on the opportunity. The next week I brought in an issue of Saltwater Fishing magazine which featured a picture of a Gator Trout. When he walked by my desk, I casually showed him the mag. I asked about his experience with these beastly trout. He told me how he used to catch them.
I shifted the subject to catching blues and stripers in the chilly northeast waters. He said he had pulled in a couple of small ones. My next moved turned his opinion of me, if just for an instant. I explained exactly how he could guarantee a good catch. I instructed him on different baits, chums, and lures to use. I told him why certain areas were better than others. I also helped him to understand that fishing for stripahs in the wee hours of the am was the best way to go about it.
Since that day, he seems to like me. He respects my intelligence. I am sure this is not the case, but for just a moment, I may have opened his mind up to acceptance of Massachusetts liberals.
Fishing does this. Hunting does this too. But Fishing is the uniting force in this country. Rednecks fish, Blue collars fish, Big-wigs fish. Ted Williams was a world-class fisherman. Fish is the best source of protein in our diets.
I hope I can go fishing one day.
-Patchman Fishington
I may be obsessed with fishing. For someone who does not fish very often, (anymore) I think about it probably 5 times per day. Some of those periods of thought are 30 minutes in length.
I used the subject of fishing at work to get the VP of Engineering to “like” me.
This guy is a tight ass teabagger. He is a self-important dude, from Texas who really loves to hear himself chat.
He thinks he has the answer to everything. He actually is a genius, and his engineering skills are immense. But I felt really harassed by this guy from the start. He would walk by my desk and flash a sarcastic peace sign. Often, when talking to prospective contractors, he would tell stories about his grandfather, who nearly died in WW2. I would hold my resentment towards him, because of his power in the company. I never told him that both of my grandfathers, plus my father and brother, had served in War for the US.
Anyway, the way I turned this guy from enema to friend was quite simple. I asked him about fishing. His eyes lit up. Political grudges slipped away. He started to tell me all about his salt-water fishing vessel.
I jumped on the opportunity. The next week I brought in an issue of Saltwater Fishing magazine which featured a picture of a Gator Trout. When he walked by my desk, I casually showed him the mag. I asked about his experience with these beastly trout. He told me how he used to catch them.
I shifted the subject to catching blues and stripers in the chilly northeast waters. He said he had pulled in a couple of small ones. My next moved turned his opinion of me, if just for an instant. I explained exactly how he could guarantee a good catch. I instructed him on different baits, chums, and lures to use. I told him why certain areas were better than others. I also helped him to understand that fishing for stripahs in the wee hours of the am was the best way to go about it.
Since that day, he seems to like me. He respects my intelligence. I am sure this is not the case, but for just a moment, I may have opened his mind up to acceptance of Massachusetts liberals.
Fishing does this. Hunting does this too. But Fishing is the uniting force in this country. Rednecks fish, Blue collars fish, Big-wigs fish. Ted Williams was a world-class fisherman. Fish is the best source of protein in our diets.
I hope I can go fishing one day.
-Patchman Fishington
2010/07/11
Go Scrappers!!!
My new favorite baseball team is the Mahong Valley Scrappers. They are a single A baseball club for the Cleveland Indians franchise. I have always been a fan of the underdog, and since the Red Sox no longer fit that description, I have been forced to find a new club to ROOT ROOT ROOT for.
They have the coolest logo in the world:
http://web.minorleaguebaseball.com/index.jsp?sid=t545
I have a hat....and I know a part owner of the team. I hope to be a substitute bat boy for them one day, or possibly a groundskeeper.
Below is a list of former Scrappers with MLB experience along with the year(s) spent in the Mahoning Valley.
Player (MLB Team) Year Player (MLB Team) Year
Josh Bard 2001 Chris Magruder 2003
Fausto Carmona (CLE) 2002 JD Martin 2006
Ryan Church (PIT) 2000 Victor Martinez (BOS) 1999
Trevor Crowe 2005 John McDonald (TOR) 2000, 2003
Eric Crozier 2000 Marshall McDougal 2002
Kyle Denney 1999, 2005 Lou Merloni 2004
Einar Diaz 2002 Matt Miller 2005
Ryan Drese 1999 Mike Porzio 2004
Chad Durbin (PHI) 2003 Argenis Reyes 2004
Mike Edwards 2001 Paul Rigdon 2003
Ben Francisco (PHI) 2002 CC Sabathia (NYY) 1999
Ryan Garko (TEX) 2003 Carl Sadler 1999-2000
Chris Gimenez 2004 Tony Sipp (CLE) 2004
David Huff (CLE) 2006 Brian Slocum 2002
Joseph Inglett (MIL) 2000 Zach Sorenson 2001
Kevin Kouzmanoff (OAK) 2003, 2005 Jason Stanford 2005
Aaron Laffey (CLE) 2004 Brian Tallet (TOR) 2000, 2004
Juan Lara 2003 Wyatt Toregas 2004
Scott Lewis 2004-2005 Eider Torres 2002
Jensen Lewis 2005 John Van Every 2001-2003
Hector Luna 2000 Chad Zerbe 2005
They have the coolest logo in the world:
http://web.minorleaguebaseball.com/index.jsp?sid=t545
I have a hat....and I know a part owner of the team. I hope to be a substitute bat boy for them one day, or possibly a groundskeeper.
Below is a list of former Scrappers with MLB experience along with the year(s) spent in the Mahoning Valley.
Player (MLB Team) Year Player (MLB Team) Year
Josh Bard 2001 Chris Magruder 2003
Fausto Carmona (CLE) 2002 JD Martin 2006
Ryan Church (PIT) 2000 Victor Martinez (BOS) 1999
Trevor Crowe 2005 John McDonald (TOR) 2000, 2003
Eric Crozier 2000 Marshall McDougal 2002
Kyle Denney 1999, 2005 Lou Merloni 2004
Einar Diaz 2002 Matt Miller 2005
Ryan Drese 1999 Mike Porzio 2004
Chad Durbin (PHI) 2003 Argenis Reyes 2004
Mike Edwards 2001 Paul Rigdon 2003
Ben Francisco (PHI) 2002 CC Sabathia (NYY) 1999
Ryan Garko (TEX) 2003 Carl Sadler 1999-2000
Chris Gimenez 2004 Tony Sipp (CLE) 2004
David Huff (CLE) 2006 Brian Slocum 2002
Joseph Inglett (MIL) 2000 Zach Sorenson 2001
Kevin Kouzmanoff (OAK) 2003, 2005 Jason Stanford 2005
Aaron Laffey (CLE) 2004 Brian Tallet (TOR) 2000, 2004
Juan Lara 2003 Wyatt Toregas 2004
Scott Lewis 2004-2005 Eider Torres 2002
Jensen Lewis 2005 John Van Every 2001-2003
Hector Luna 2000 Chad Zerbe 2005
Im an A*hole
I used to hate people like Denis Leary, for being so brutally honest. His old song...I'm an asshole was a very good way of describing how I feel about myself these days. I decided I might write my own version.
I'm a monkey, im a wrinkle
I'm a donkey, but my eyes twinkle.
I fart sideways, I smell like poopie
I can't stop me, from feeling loopy
I dont drink and I dont drug
I can't sweep my thoughts, under the rug
I've got feelings, they start seething
I'm like a baby who's started teething
I start yelling, I get angry
I shout my mouth off, when I'm mangy
I don't rhyme good, and I hate me
only sometimes, but thats lately
I work hard, in the daytime
and I punch things in my brain-time
I complain, and I know I'm wrong
I judge others, they hate this song
I talk about me, and its annoying
I should shut up, but its boring
I don't have a filter, on my mouthy
It's hard to control me, when I'm grouchy
I want to do things, that I can't do
I want a cd, and a new shoe
-PW Hatsley
I'm a monkey, im a wrinkle
I'm a donkey, but my eyes twinkle.
I fart sideways, I smell like poopie
I can't stop me, from feeling loopy
I dont drink and I dont drug
I can't sweep my thoughts, under the rug
I've got feelings, they start seething
I'm like a baby who's started teething
I start yelling, I get angry
I shout my mouth off, when I'm mangy
I don't rhyme good, and I hate me
only sometimes, but thats lately
I work hard, in the daytime
and I punch things in my brain-time
I complain, and I know I'm wrong
I judge others, they hate this song
I talk about me, and its annoying
I should shut up, but its boring
I don't have a filter, on my mouthy
It's hard to control me, when I'm grouchy
I want to do things, that I can't do
I want a cd, and a new shoe
-PW Hatsley
2010/07/05
McChristy Ballman
Gen Stanley McChrystal has got quite a set on him...huh? He's a real gem.
At a time when we are losing soldiers left and right in a dire situation, Mr McChristy thought it was a great idea to spout his mouth off about politics.
I am so grateful that we have a president who was strong enough to put him in his place. Thank God for Obama.
My brother is doing great now, but there are so many who never make it back. They die at war, and they don't ever come back. And this guy is over there talking about politics? FUCK STANLEY.
Happy 4th of july, readers, and God Bless America, where bowling still reigns as a major form of entertainment.
PW HATSLEY
At a time when we are losing soldiers left and right in a dire situation, Mr McChristy thought it was a great idea to spout his mouth off about politics.
I am so grateful that we have a president who was strong enough to put him in his place. Thank God for Obama.
My brother is doing great now, but there are so many who never make it back. They die at war, and they don't ever come back. And this guy is over there talking about politics? FUCK STANLEY.
Happy 4th of july, readers, and God Bless America, where bowling still reigns as a major form of entertainment.
PW HATSLEY
2010/06/29
ANd again.....here, we go:
circa last summer.....
Double dipping on Pat’s Hat humor….
So this week I feel like we need to step it up a notch, and release two installments of this outlandish bullcrank. My wife has been reading this stuff, and she says it’s off the wall, and that I jump around too much. I don’t take criticism very well, and I ended the discussion by yelling, slamming my fist on my own ballsack, and realizing that I am always wrong, a big ass, and I smell worse than most.
That said, I thought I would take out my little computer and give it another shot. Let’s see how I do on this one.
They’re trying to build a Walmart on the site of Robert E Lee’s last battle. Southerners are all up in arms about this. I would be too, if my racist hero was being defaced by a racist organization like Walmart. I mean what are these people on? The south was in the right, slavery should be reinstated, and Robert E Lee was fighting the good fight as he tried to keep Northerners from freeing slaves, respecting women, and spreading their dirty ideas of independence and equality south of the Mason Dixie. Next thing we know, they’re gonna erect a shrine to the wonderful and powerful Adolf Hitler. The dedication will go something like this…..”We decided it was time that we started honoring real heroes. No more of this giving credit to liberal, smart, talented, accomplished freedom fighters. We need to be honest here America, we love white people, and we hate blacks, latinos, and especially catholics.”
I just found out that there has been some in-fighting among lobstermen from Maine. They are proud that they practice “self-policing.” What this means, is that if there is a disagreement between boats, they usually have a fist-fight. If things get drastic, a duel is called, and they have to take 20 paces, turn and fire. Can you imagine being in York Bay, going to a bar and seeing two 50 year old men trading blows? You ask a bystander what’s going on, and the response would be something like this….”Kevin caught Dave stealing lobsters out of his trap. And Dave fucked Kevin’s sister 5 years ago. He still hasn’t apologized for that. My money’s on Kevin this time.” When you ask if the police should be involved, the man talking to you gestures over to the corner and says…..”Sean over there is on the force, he’s just going to make sure that no one gets killed, and if someone does, he’ll make sure we keep the death toll under control, and properly dispose of the body.” That’s when you realize that Maine lobstermen are too hard core for a little knucklehead like you.
So Menino’s under the gun here, accused of doing what Italians do best, taking bribes and taking care of his own. I want to stand up and be like…”does this really surprise us that much?” I mean, look at the man, and listen to him. He looks and sounds like a Boston version of Paulie from the Sopranos. You ask him an in depth question, and between mumbles and uhhhs, you get some very simplified version of the situation. In other words, he’s telling us on a constant basis….”Let me handle this, I got a guy for that, and it will be handled quietly, quickly, and it would be appreciated if the public stayed out of it.” The man knows more about getting things done through the help of guys named Tiny, Giusepi and Frankie than your average Bossman. I support the guy, and what he does, but there are a lot of people out there who are just finding this shit out. Sam Yoon however, would be like a kitten trying to control a pack of wolves with heavy addictions to cocaine, alcohol, and childblood. I think we should just stick with Mumbles, his speech impediment makes me feel at home.
If you need any more evidence that the apocalypse is fast approaching, turn on your radio once in awhile, and listen to what hose excrement sauce is selling as far as music. They have a song about doing the “Helen Keller.” Now, I am the first one to laugh at a good retard joke, but this is ridiculous. I think the guy who wrote this song should have his voice box cut out, and his eyes burned with Clorox bleach. You wanna laugh about Helen Keller? Really? How bout I make it so you can see what the fuck she had to go through? Making money hand over fist at the expense of a deaf mute who fought her whole life for her own rights, and the rights of others with disabilities is NOT ok. I also take offense to all new music that is presented as hip-hop, R&B, or rap. To me, it resembles more of a 4 year-old with cerebral paulsey waking up in the morning and trying to get out of bed without shitting the sheets for the 7th morning in a row. (That is the exact line that is going to have me ending up in hell when I die.) These people need to spend some time away from the microphone, examining their own consciences, and listening to nothing but Slick Rick, Nas, and Tupac. Only when they can write me a 2 page letter explaining why their shit sucks, and why Luther Vandross was superior to them in every single way, can they even think about getting back on the mic. And recording albums with this tom-foolery is out of control. They need to spend some time in a galaxy far way, and allow some of the most trusted names in music to take a shot at it. Here, I am referring to the freestyle rolling linguisticalized attack force known to most as Hat Crew with Greggy Biggsby (the most dangerous MC in the Commonwealth.) They were last seen embarrassing the microphone with talent it had never previously supported in Hyannis MA.
I think we are all in danger of forgetting how much kids from Dover-Sherborn suck. I was recently talking to someone from my No Excuses group who is helping to counsel a family with an alcoholic and drug addicted son. The parents bought the kid an 80,000 dollar Ferrari, and the kid had the balls to complain that the car was slightly used. I would have punched the kid in the jaw, but Bobby G made it clear that he told the parents to let the kid sleep in a dumpster for a few months before they shell out another 20,000 for a cushy rehab facility. These are the kinds of kids who get college paid for completely by daddy, proceed to fail out of school, and have the balls to say that their parents never did anything for them. They then open up a small surf company in Florida, wear flip-flops everyday, and call home once a year to complain about the weather when it rains. My dad would have a field day with these kids. As a matter of fact, I think my dad should open up a rehab facility. Here is a typical day in Tim Donohue Sr’s rehab facility…..
4:30 am: Wake up….My dad would wake these motherfuckers up by banging a metal trash can in each kids face, spitting on them, and telling them that their balls will be removed if they don’t start some yard work within 10 minutes.
4:40 am: yard work…this involves doing yard work in the dark. No tools are allowed. When the guys ask my dad why they can’t even use rakes or shovels, my dad replies…”I can’t trust you little bastards with metal. Shut up and pick more weeds.”
5:00 am: yard work
5:30 am: yard work…when one of the kids asks if they can have water, my dad replies..”Little Edelbert here is getting too brave, so because of his selfish attitude, we will now run 3 miles.”
6:00 am: The 3 miles are over, and two of the kids are throwing up. My dad tells them that throwing up is God’s way of telling them that they suck at life. They ask if they can get something to eat, and my dad gives them each a fishing pole, and tells them to catch a fish. The kids end up falling asleep at the lake, and my dad drops logs on each of their stomachs. Crying ensues, and my pops tells them that they can cry all they want, but crying takes too many calories to be sustainable.
6:30 am: My dad has mercy on them, and gives each one a cup of water, and rice that was cooked days before. They tell him that it’s not edible, and it smells funny. He says that he has had worse, and walks away to take a cell phone call. Some wise guy named Steve decides that he will organize the group to revolt. When my dad returns to the group, Steve says that they have decided to leave the clinic. My Dad says…”good luck guys, but I removed the engines from each of your cars last night, and the police have been notified to run any of you over if you are seen walking on any of these roads without my notification. Have fun gentlemen.”
7:00 am….A brave little guy named Chris remembers that my Dad is very religious. He decides to try to take advantage of this and asks…”What would Jesus say if he saw you mistreating us like this?” To this my Dad laughs, and says....”Jesus doesn’t give two shits about rich little ungrateful peckerheads like you. He spent 40 days starving in the desert, and if he were here, he would tell you to suck it up, shut your damn mouths and get something done before he himself smacked you all in your earholes.”
7:15 am: Gary says that he is feeling sick, and needs to lie down. My dad says, ”Fine, go ahead.” When Gary goes upstairs to lie down, my dad tells another resident to go upstairs, and dump boiling water on the kids face. The delegate says that he will not, and my dad says….”Ok, we’ll give the kid another hour, if he’s not up, then I will personally wipe my ass with his nose.”
For the rest of the morning, the guys are forced to do make a french drain to prevent flooding in the spring. It is November, and the weather is quite brisk. The boys are forced to melt the semi-frozen ground by urinating on it, then digging the ground with their hands. They claim that they are receiving unfair treatment, and my dad replies by screaming, yelling, and punching the jewish kid who says his lawyer will hear about the situation.
Midday comes to reveal my dad’s light side. He says that everyone deserves a lunch, and has them make peanut butter sandwiches. One of the residents is stupid enough to ask for more, and finds himself running laps around the lake, with a German Shepherd named Tootles chasing him.
The afternoon is filled with my Dad reading to the boys as they do the dishes, wash the floors, and clean the tables and chairs with hot water and toothbrushes. My Dad has rigged an intercom through the building and the grounds. He spends most of the day reading to them from the personal accounts of John McCain’s experiences as a POW. He then starts to read from the diary of a Jewish Concentration camp survivor. When he is finished, most of the kids are weeping, and he tells them that there is no mercy, and they need to pick up the pace.
At 6:00 pm, most of the residents are falling asleep in their chairs, while my Dad is playing country music at full blast through the compound. He allows this to go on for about a half an hour, then gathers the kids, and makes them do push-ups, pull-ups and crunches until they all throw up.
As the sun sets, he takes all of their beds from their rooms, sets them up outside, and locks them out of the building. He tells them that if they try to flee, they will be eaten by bears, cougars, or he will release the “other dogs.” The kids didn’t even know that there were other dogs on the compound, but my dad lets them know they don’t want to test the waters on this one, as the dogs have never been around a person they have not tried to eat.
That is one day, Day One in Tim Donohue’s camp. The camp is titled: Life sucks, and so do You. Get over yourselves……or Camp Eat Shit for short.
Lighter side of life……
Have you ever sat and wondered how many non-human mammals have more intelligence than the average libertarian or republican House member? I know I have, and the answer I came up with is quite shocking. The average otter has more understanding of world events, political issues, and better grammar than our most intelligent republican congressman or woman. (A recent Wesley J. Major poll of wildlife suggests.) A woodchuck on its last legs can still find the ability to feed itself, take care of its young, and die in dignity. Republicans however, think that Democrats are to blame for the fact that they can’t even make love to their wives without realizing how little they know about making a female orgasm. Ask them to cook you a dinner and they will respond that it’s Obama’s fault that there is no food on the table, and at this point you realize that the congressman has never even prepared a single meal for themselves, let alone someone else.
There is a family of squirrels in my neighborhood who are attempting to set up an organized crime family. They have been seen issuing beatings to all outside squirrels, mice, and rabbits who wander into Harmony Grove looking for acorns, discarded bread, and other snacks that are available because of the kindness or carelessness of Framingham residents. The boss of the family is named Cheeks Robinson, and he is renowned for his ruthless tactics, and his daring antics. They have set up shop in an abandoned apartment on Pearl street, where they have opened up an acorn liquor store, and they’re making extra money by selling pills they find on the street to neighborhood possums and skunks. The operation recently got ugly when a few crows found themselves getting jumped by Cheeks’ cousins, a group of 9 gray squirrels who had nothing better to do. The crows were so pissed, they proceeded to get support from local pigeons and returned the next day to drop pebbles on the young squirrels who were busy vandalizing the woodchuck den on Union Ave. The beavers in the river nearby heard about the situation and responded with a statement: “We do not support this type of thuggish behavior. If this persists, we will be forced to damn up all rivers leading to Harmony Grove, and cut off the food supply for 3 weeks. Please be advised that we do not put up with thieves, murderers, or trouble makers of the rodent variety. If we need to, we will alert all coyotes and hawks of these occurrences, and then we will not see so many happy squirrels anymore. Thank you to all who have alerted us of this problem, please know that our beaver prayers are with you all, and this too shall pass.” I will update you about this situation when more has developed.
And now a word from Dick Cheney: “Life sucks, America is supposed to be the Land of the Free, but I am stuck trying to promote a book about why I shouldn’t go to jail for the rest of my life. I tried my best to run this country the way Charlemagne would have, but now all I get is angry letters and bad reviews about my service to the country. Black people suck, women are stupid, and I hate children of all colors. I survive each day by sucking the life out of happy people, complaining, and being angry to all I encounter. I enjoy romantic destruction of country infrastructure humor, and long walks in complete silence. These are the times that I really hunker down and develop new and creative ways to screw the American people, put our most talented and hardest working men and women to death at the hands of unjust war, and drive our country into financial and moral bankruptcy, nahhhhrrrr nauuhhhhh.”
Speaking of angry letters, I recently received some hate-mail from an unidentified sender. It read:
Dear Pat in a Hat,
I understand that you think you are funny, and for this I am deeply sorry. You are not funny, not at all. I take offense to everything you write, and I am going to see to it that your apartment smells like garbage for the rest of your life. Please know that I am not usually a mean person, but after reading your opinion, I am thinking about starting a militia to combat liberal punks like you. Free speech is a problem, and I am going to see to it that you are imprisoned in Louisiana for your words. I have a brother named Luke who has heard about you. He says that we are going to take a “road trip to Framingham.” Please be advised that this will not be a friendly visit. Jesus hates you, and he hates all the minorities that you seem to like. He also hates your music, your style of dress, and your happiness. I hope that the next few months find you sick in the hospital, with blood pouring from your nose and ears. And I hope your aunts die of an unknown illness. Thanks for reading this. My uncle says that you read poetry on Tuesdays, I knew you were a queer.
Sincerely,
Unknown Angerman Lewis
June 2010
I am working on a response to this letter, but here is what I am thinking of writing…
Angerman,
I am honored that you took the time out of your busy day to respond to my ramblings. I know it must be hard to hate people all day long, but you seem to be handling it like a champ. Tell me, does it hurt to know that you are a miserable ass and your family hates you? Please understand that while your opinion is appreciated, you just wasted money on a stamp, and I will soon be throwing up from imagining what your girlfriend looks like. I wish you the best of luck in life, it’s not easy to be such a dirty pissbag. May Dick Cheney have mercy on your sorry, ugly soul.
Peace and Love
Patrick the Hatrick lemur
Thanks for your time guys, you really are great to humor me by reading this drivel. Have a great day, and remember……don’t talk to cops about your thoughts, feelings, or ideas. EVER……
You can see more at www.CopsHateHappy.com/Blacks/criminals/Ihaveasmalldick
Double dipping on Pat’s Hat humor….
So this week I feel like we need to step it up a notch, and release two installments of this outlandish bullcrank. My wife has been reading this stuff, and she says it’s off the wall, and that I jump around too much. I don’t take criticism very well, and I ended the discussion by yelling, slamming my fist on my own ballsack, and realizing that I am always wrong, a big ass, and I smell worse than most.
That said, I thought I would take out my little computer and give it another shot. Let’s see how I do on this one.
They’re trying to build a Walmart on the site of Robert E Lee’s last battle. Southerners are all up in arms about this. I would be too, if my racist hero was being defaced by a racist organization like Walmart. I mean what are these people on? The south was in the right, slavery should be reinstated, and Robert E Lee was fighting the good fight as he tried to keep Northerners from freeing slaves, respecting women, and spreading their dirty ideas of independence and equality south of the Mason Dixie. Next thing we know, they’re gonna erect a shrine to the wonderful and powerful Adolf Hitler. The dedication will go something like this…..”We decided it was time that we started honoring real heroes. No more of this giving credit to liberal, smart, talented, accomplished freedom fighters. We need to be honest here America, we love white people, and we hate blacks, latinos, and especially catholics.”
I just found out that there has been some in-fighting among lobstermen from Maine. They are proud that they practice “self-policing.” What this means, is that if there is a disagreement between boats, they usually have a fist-fight. If things get drastic, a duel is called, and they have to take 20 paces, turn and fire. Can you imagine being in York Bay, going to a bar and seeing two 50 year old men trading blows? You ask a bystander what’s going on, and the response would be something like this….”Kevin caught Dave stealing lobsters out of his trap. And Dave fucked Kevin’s sister 5 years ago. He still hasn’t apologized for that. My money’s on Kevin this time.” When you ask if the police should be involved, the man talking to you gestures over to the corner and says…..”Sean over there is on the force, he’s just going to make sure that no one gets killed, and if someone does, he’ll make sure we keep the death toll under control, and properly dispose of the body.” That’s when you realize that Maine lobstermen are too hard core for a little knucklehead like you.
So Menino’s under the gun here, accused of doing what Italians do best, taking bribes and taking care of his own. I want to stand up and be like…”does this really surprise us that much?” I mean, look at the man, and listen to him. He looks and sounds like a Boston version of Paulie from the Sopranos. You ask him an in depth question, and between mumbles and uhhhs, you get some very simplified version of the situation. In other words, he’s telling us on a constant basis….”Let me handle this, I got a guy for that, and it will be handled quietly, quickly, and it would be appreciated if the public stayed out of it.” The man knows more about getting things done through the help of guys named Tiny, Giusepi and Frankie than your average Bossman. I support the guy, and what he does, but there are a lot of people out there who are just finding this shit out. Sam Yoon however, would be like a kitten trying to control a pack of wolves with heavy addictions to cocaine, alcohol, and childblood. I think we should just stick with Mumbles, his speech impediment makes me feel at home.
If you need any more evidence that the apocalypse is fast approaching, turn on your radio once in awhile, and listen to what hose excrement sauce is selling as far as music. They have a song about doing the “Helen Keller.” Now, I am the first one to laugh at a good retard joke, but this is ridiculous. I think the guy who wrote this song should have his voice box cut out, and his eyes burned with Clorox bleach. You wanna laugh about Helen Keller? Really? How bout I make it so you can see what the fuck she had to go through? Making money hand over fist at the expense of a deaf mute who fought her whole life for her own rights, and the rights of others with disabilities is NOT ok. I also take offense to all new music that is presented as hip-hop, R&B, or rap. To me, it resembles more of a 4 year-old with cerebral paulsey waking up in the morning and trying to get out of bed without shitting the sheets for the 7th morning in a row. (That is the exact line that is going to have me ending up in hell when I die.) These people need to spend some time away from the microphone, examining their own consciences, and listening to nothing but Slick Rick, Nas, and Tupac. Only when they can write me a 2 page letter explaining why their shit sucks, and why Luther Vandross was superior to them in every single way, can they even think about getting back on the mic. And recording albums with this tom-foolery is out of control. They need to spend some time in a galaxy far way, and allow some of the most trusted names in music to take a shot at it. Here, I am referring to the freestyle rolling linguisticalized attack force known to most as Hat Crew with Greggy Biggsby (the most dangerous MC in the Commonwealth.) They were last seen embarrassing the microphone with talent it had never previously supported in Hyannis MA.
I think we are all in danger of forgetting how much kids from Dover-Sherborn suck. I was recently talking to someone from my No Excuses group who is helping to counsel a family with an alcoholic and drug addicted son. The parents bought the kid an 80,000 dollar Ferrari, and the kid had the balls to complain that the car was slightly used. I would have punched the kid in the jaw, but Bobby G made it clear that he told the parents to let the kid sleep in a dumpster for a few months before they shell out another 20,000 for a cushy rehab facility. These are the kinds of kids who get college paid for completely by daddy, proceed to fail out of school, and have the balls to say that their parents never did anything for them. They then open up a small surf company in Florida, wear flip-flops everyday, and call home once a year to complain about the weather when it rains. My dad would have a field day with these kids. As a matter of fact, I think my dad should open up a rehab facility. Here is a typical day in Tim Donohue Sr’s rehab facility…..
4:30 am: Wake up….My dad would wake these motherfuckers up by banging a metal trash can in each kids face, spitting on them, and telling them that their balls will be removed if they don’t start some yard work within 10 minutes.
4:40 am: yard work…this involves doing yard work in the dark. No tools are allowed. When the guys ask my dad why they can’t even use rakes or shovels, my dad replies…”I can’t trust you little bastards with metal. Shut up and pick more weeds.”
5:00 am: yard work
5:30 am: yard work…when one of the kids asks if they can have water, my dad replies..”Little Edelbert here is getting too brave, so because of his selfish attitude, we will now run 3 miles.”
6:00 am: The 3 miles are over, and two of the kids are throwing up. My dad tells them that throwing up is God’s way of telling them that they suck at life. They ask if they can get something to eat, and my dad gives them each a fishing pole, and tells them to catch a fish. The kids end up falling asleep at the lake, and my dad drops logs on each of their stomachs. Crying ensues, and my pops tells them that they can cry all they want, but crying takes too many calories to be sustainable.
6:30 am: My dad has mercy on them, and gives each one a cup of water, and rice that was cooked days before. They tell him that it’s not edible, and it smells funny. He says that he has had worse, and walks away to take a cell phone call. Some wise guy named Steve decides that he will organize the group to revolt. When my dad returns to the group, Steve says that they have decided to leave the clinic. My Dad says…”good luck guys, but I removed the engines from each of your cars last night, and the police have been notified to run any of you over if you are seen walking on any of these roads without my notification. Have fun gentlemen.”
7:00 am….A brave little guy named Chris remembers that my Dad is very religious. He decides to try to take advantage of this and asks…”What would Jesus say if he saw you mistreating us like this?” To this my Dad laughs, and says....”Jesus doesn’t give two shits about rich little ungrateful peckerheads like you. He spent 40 days starving in the desert, and if he were here, he would tell you to suck it up, shut your damn mouths and get something done before he himself smacked you all in your earholes.”
7:15 am: Gary says that he is feeling sick, and needs to lie down. My dad says, ”Fine, go ahead.” When Gary goes upstairs to lie down, my dad tells another resident to go upstairs, and dump boiling water on the kids face. The delegate says that he will not, and my dad says….”Ok, we’ll give the kid another hour, if he’s not up, then I will personally wipe my ass with his nose.”
For the rest of the morning, the guys are forced to do make a french drain to prevent flooding in the spring. It is November, and the weather is quite brisk. The boys are forced to melt the semi-frozen ground by urinating on it, then digging the ground with their hands. They claim that they are receiving unfair treatment, and my dad replies by screaming, yelling, and punching the jewish kid who says his lawyer will hear about the situation.
Midday comes to reveal my dad’s light side. He says that everyone deserves a lunch, and has them make peanut butter sandwiches. One of the residents is stupid enough to ask for more, and finds himself running laps around the lake, with a German Shepherd named Tootles chasing him.
The afternoon is filled with my Dad reading to the boys as they do the dishes, wash the floors, and clean the tables and chairs with hot water and toothbrushes. My Dad has rigged an intercom through the building and the grounds. He spends most of the day reading to them from the personal accounts of John McCain’s experiences as a POW. He then starts to read from the diary of a Jewish Concentration camp survivor. When he is finished, most of the kids are weeping, and he tells them that there is no mercy, and they need to pick up the pace.
At 6:00 pm, most of the residents are falling asleep in their chairs, while my Dad is playing country music at full blast through the compound. He allows this to go on for about a half an hour, then gathers the kids, and makes them do push-ups, pull-ups and crunches until they all throw up.
As the sun sets, he takes all of their beds from their rooms, sets them up outside, and locks them out of the building. He tells them that if they try to flee, they will be eaten by bears, cougars, or he will release the “other dogs.” The kids didn’t even know that there were other dogs on the compound, but my dad lets them know they don’t want to test the waters on this one, as the dogs have never been around a person they have not tried to eat.
That is one day, Day One in Tim Donohue’s camp. The camp is titled: Life sucks, and so do You. Get over yourselves……or Camp Eat Shit for short.
Lighter side of life……
Have you ever sat and wondered how many non-human mammals have more intelligence than the average libertarian or republican House member? I know I have, and the answer I came up with is quite shocking. The average otter has more understanding of world events, political issues, and better grammar than our most intelligent republican congressman or woman. (A recent Wesley J. Major poll of wildlife suggests.) A woodchuck on its last legs can still find the ability to feed itself, take care of its young, and die in dignity. Republicans however, think that Democrats are to blame for the fact that they can’t even make love to their wives without realizing how little they know about making a female orgasm. Ask them to cook you a dinner and they will respond that it’s Obama’s fault that there is no food on the table, and at this point you realize that the congressman has never even prepared a single meal for themselves, let alone someone else.
There is a family of squirrels in my neighborhood who are attempting to set up an organized crime family. They have been seen issuing beatings to all outside squirrels, mice, and rabbits who wander into Harmony Grove looking for acorns, discarded bread, and other snacks that are available because of the kindness or carelessness of Framingham residents. The boss of the family is named Cheeks Robinson, and he is renowned for his ruthless tactics, and his daring antics. They have set up shop in an abandoned apartment on Pearl street, where they have opened up an acorn liquor store, and they’re making extra money by selling pills they find on the street to neighborhood possums and skunks. The operation recently got ugly when a few crows found themselves getting jumped by Cheeks’ cousins, a group of 9 gray squirrels who had nothing better to do. The crows were so pissed, they proceeded to get support from local pigeons and returned the next day to drop pebbles on the young squirrels who were busy vandalizing the woodchuck den on Union Ave. The beavers in the river nearby heard about the situation and responded with a statement: “We do not support this type of thuggish behavior. If this persists, we will be forced to damn up all rivers leading to Harmony Grove, and cut off the food supply for 3 weeks. Please be advised that we do not put up with thieves, murderers, or trouble makers of the rodent variety. If we need to, we will alert all coyotes and hawks of these occurrences, and then we will not see so many happy squirrels anymore. Thank you to all who have alerted us of this problem, please know that our beaver prayers are with you all, and this too shall pass.” I will update you about this situation when more has developed.
And now a word from Dick Cheney: “Life sucks, America is supposed to be the Land of the Free, but I am stuck trying to promote a book about why I shouldn’t go to jail for the rest of my life. I tried my best to run this country the way Charlemagne would have, but now all I get is angry letters and bad reviews about my service to the country. Black people suck, women are stupid, and I hate children of all colors. I survive each day by sucking the life out of happy people, complaining, and being angry to all I encounter. I enjoy romantic destruction of country infrastructure humor, and long walks in complete silence. These are the times that I really hunker down and develop new and creative ways to screw the American people, put our most talented and hardest working men and women to death at the hands of unjust war, and drive our country into financial and moral bankruptcy, nahhhhrrrr nauuhhhhh.”
Speaking of angry letters, I recently received some hate-mail from an unidentified sender. It read:
Dear Pat in a Hat,
I understand that you think you are funny, and for this I am deeply sorry. You are not funny, not at all. I take offense to everything you write, and I am going to see to it that your apartment smells like garbage for the rest of your life. Please know that I am not usually a mean person, but after reading your opinion, I am thinking about starting a militia to combat liberal punks like you. Free speech is a problem, and I am going to see to it that you are imprisoned in Louisiana for your words. I have a brother named Luke who has heard about you. He says that we are going to take a “road trip to Framingham.” Please be advised that this will not be a friendly visit. Jesus hates you, and he hates all the minorities that you seem to like. He also hates your music, your style of dress, and your happiness. I hope that the next few months find you sick in the hospital, with blood pouring from your nose and ears. And I hope your aunts die of an unknown illness. Thanks for reading this. My uncle says that you read poetry on Tuesdays, I knew you were a queer.
Sincerely,
Unknown Angerman Lewis
June 2010
I am working on a response to this letter, but here is what I am thinking of writing…
Angerman,
I am honored that you took the time out of your busy day to respond to my ramblings. I know it must be hard to hate people all day long, but you seem to be handling it like a champ. Tell me, does it hurt to know that you are a miserable ass and your family hates you? Please understand that while your opinion is appreciated, you just wasted money on a stamp, and I will soon be throwing up from imagining what your girlfriend looks like. I wish you the best of luck in life, it’s not easy to be such a dirty pissbag. May Dick Cheney have mercy on your sorry, ugly soul.
Peace and Love
Patrick the Hatrick lemur
Thanks for your time guys, you really are great to humor me by reading this drivel. Have a great day, and remember……don’t talk to cops about your thoughts, feelings, or ideas. EVER……
You can see more at www.CopsHateHappy.com/Blacks/criminals/Ihaveasmalldick
and back where it all begannnned
enjoy:
August 12, 2009
We are all entrenched now in the stupid comedy that doesn’t make too much sense created by a crazy recovering alcoholic named Pat in a Hat. Now, we need to rehash something here….I do not live by, nor repeat the words which I record in this series. If you need a translation…..This should be kept under lock and key, forwarded only with my permission, and if you take me seriously, you will promptly be removed from the mailing list. Now back to the action…….
I was recently pondering the soul source for other breeds of dogs, and I came upon the question of where do Hippo souls come from? As soon as I took the time to ask myself this, I realized that hippos are obviously not the reincarnation of any other animal, since not a single animal would want to step into the body of a big, angry, hot, cranky hippopatmus under any circumstances. But I did realize that I am completely speculating with all of these theories….Who has two thumbs and loves speculating on subjects of which I have no clue? THIS GUY……hand motion necessary, however I don’t have a camera.
So the other question I have been working on recently is: why are so many people such dicks? I can’t cross the street without catching a dirty look from some angry asshole who thinks I should be 25 pounds heavier, bald, and walking with a cane. It is probably the case that the men who give me these looks are married to horrible, mean, and smelly wives, but I really don’t think that I have anything to do with their daily issues. Miserable people are annoying. It seems there are more and more of these assholes in my town on a daily basis. It’s like someone took all of the mean, cranky, angry assholes from every state, rounded them up onto a bus with promises of gambling and bowling, and dropped them off in my neighborhood, express for my enjoyment. I’m sick of it, stop that shit, it’s not cool, nor is it appreciated.
I recently listened to a guy on my block talk to me for half an hour about his weiner dog. I guess there were a few mentions of the weather in there, and one about how Brazilians are annoying, but his main focus was the fact that his stupid fucking dog was aggressive and he couldn’t trust the damn thing anywhere without a leash. I sat there listening intently, all the while hoping that his dog would get picked up a by a nearby hawk that was circling. I had a mental image the whole time of his dog getting dropped into the Charles River and swallowed by a giant pike from the 1600s. Unfortunately, my fantasy was never realized and I had to try not to kick the dog as it growled at me.
Has anyone taken a second lately to realize that Republicans are selfish assholes and very delusional? I have, and I’ll tell you I’m starting to get really fed up with their bullshit. I think we should have a parade through the streets of Texas with gay pride flags, skirts, fake tits, and a picture of W dressed in the same. Any takers?
Frogs have a secret desire to shed their skins, hatch into Iguanas, crawl out of the ponds and streams in which they live now, and catch the next bus to a pizza joint. Lobsters are getting angry, pandas are always angry, cows don’t know their own names, monkeys are getting bolder and meaner by the day, gorillas may now have aids, donkeys are loud and absolutely out of control, and lastly, there is a skunk in my neighborhood on an absolute streak of spraying her ass all over every goddamn thing. Her name is Katherine, and she’s not helping anything.
Please feel free to comment on any of my theories. Hyperbole is a dangerous tool and should be kept out of the view of people with no imagination, people who hate people, angry guys named Robert, and anyone who does not have the ability to laugh.
Pat in Hat
Welcome the king of outrageous, senseless, silly, and off color humor.
Raise your foot up high
Say hello to this guy
Let’s not be hasty
It will all be tasty
Blame it on the spider
By the name of clinky
With a brother named stinky, blinky, and linky
More to come next time….thanks to all the people out there who actually take the time to read these thoughts……..
August 12, 2009
We are all entrenched now in the stupid comedy that doesn’t make too much sense created by a crazy recovering alcoholic named Pat in a Hat. Now, we need to rehash something here….I do not live by, nor repeat the words which I record in this series. If you need a translation…..This should be kept under lock and key, forwarded only with my permission, and if you take me seriously, you will promptly be removed from the mailing list. Now back to the action…….
I was recently pondering the soul source for other breeds of dogs, and I came upon the question of where do Hippo souls come from? As soon as I took the time to ask myself this, I realized that hippos are obviously not the reincarnation of any other animal, since not a single animal would want to step into the body of a big, angry, hot, cranky hippopatmus under any circumstances. But I did realize that I am completely speculating with all of these theories….Who has two thumbs and loves speculating on subjects of which I have no clue? THIS GUY……hand motion necessary, however I don’t have a camera.
So the other question I have been working on recently is: why are so many people such dicks? I can’t cross the street without catching a dirty look from some angry asshole who thinks I should be 25 pounds heavier, bald, and walking with a cane. It is probably the case that the men who give me these looks are married to horrible, mean, and smelly wives, but I really don’t think that I have anything to do with their daily issues. Miserable people are annoying. It seems there are more and more of these assholes in my town on a daily basis. It’s like someone took all of the mean, cranky, angry assholes from every state, rounded them up onto a bus with promises of gambling and bowling, and dropped them off in my neighborhood, express for my enjoyment. I’m sick of it, stop that shit, it’s not cool, nor is it appreciated.
I recently listened to a guy on my block talk to me for half an hour about his weiner dog. I guess there were a few mentions of the weather in there, and one about how Brazilians are annoying, but his main focus was the fact that his stupid fucking dog was aggressive and he couldn’t trust the damn thing anywhere without a leash. I sat there listening intently, all the while hoping that his dog would get picked up a by a nearby hawk that was circling. I had a mental image the whole time of his dog getting dropped into the Charles River and swallowed by a giant pike from the 1600s. Unfortunately, my fantasy was never realized and I had to try not to kick the dog as it growled at me.
Has anyone taken a second lately to realize that Republicans are selfish assholes and very delusional? I have, and I’ll tell you I’m starting to get really fed up with their bullshit. I think we should have a parade through the streets of Texas with gay pride flags, skirts, fake tits, and a picture of W dressed in the same. Any takers?
Frogs have a secret desire to shed their skins, hatch into Iguanas, crawl out of the ponds and streams in which they live now, and catch the next bus to a pizza joint. Lobsters are getting angry, pandas are always angry, cows don’t know their own names, monkeys are getting bolder and meaner by the day, gorillas may now have aids, donkeys are loud and absolutely out of control, and lastly, there is a skunk in my neighborhood on an absolute streak of spraying her ass all over every goddamn thing. Her name is Katherine, and she’s not helping anything.
Please feel free to comment on any of my theories. Hyperbole is a dangerous tool and should be kept out of the view of people with no imagination, people who hate people, angry guys named Robert, and anyone who does not have the ability to laugh.
Pat in Hat
Welcome the king of outrageous, senseless, silly, and off color humor.
Raise your foot up high
Say hello to this guy
Let’s not be hasty
It will all be tasty
Blame it on the spider
By the name of clinky
With a brother named stinky, blinky, and linky
More to come next time….thanks to all the people out there who actually take the time to read these thoughts……..
Couldn't resist throwin this post back up......
Please note, the exact source of these emails is currently unknown. The theory is that Bush shares too many secrets with his daughters, who think it’s funny to put this stuff up on Euro blogs.
Sent by: George W…..DUBYAalliNyourGrill@yahoo.com
To: Hugo Chavez…..hugomania@morepower.net
Hey Yogi,
Long time no chat. I’m sorry about all that nastiness over my terms as pres. I hope there are no hard feelings. You really got me on that U.N. sulfur joke. You really picked up some good laughs on that one, myself included. Please know that you are always welcome at my Cuba residence, whenever you wish to visit. I love you a little too much. My therapist says not to get attached to world leaders the way I do, but I want you to know Yogi, that I have always had a special place in my world ranking of leaders for you. You are truly a testament that charisma and charm always pay off. I sometimes go to bed with a picture of you I have framed that I hide from my wife.
Adiuso! Amigo!
GWB (your best bud from texas)
Re:
For the last time Bush, my name is Hugo. Please don’t send me anything ever again. You really don’t understand that I hate you to the very core of my being? I think everything about you is evil, and I say a daily prayer that you suffer a painful and sudden death at the hands of an Islamic Regime. Your daughters came to my cinco de mayo party. They are quite the partiers man! And I got to hit both of ‘em at once in the hot tub. I love it. Thanks bro, don’t mess with Venezuela.
Peace
Hugo
P.S. If I were you, I would be sleeping with one eye open. We have a word for people like you in Spanish, but my aides say I shouldn’t use it. Just know that the word on the tips of all of our tongues is “revenge.” I think there are some real player haters in the Middle East who are gonna see something through this time. Best of luck you moron. Get some sleep. You’ll need it where you’re going. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Sent by: George W…..DUBYAalliNyourGrill@yahoo.com
To: Hugo Chavez…..hugomania@morepower.net
Hey Yogi,
Long time no chat. I’m sorry about all that nastiness over my terms as pres. I hope there are no hard feelings. You really got me on that U.N. sulfur joke. You really picked up some good laughs on that one, myself included. Please know that you are always welcome at my Cuba residence, whenever you wish to visit. I love you a little too much. My therapist says not to get attached to world leaders the way I do, but I want you to know Yogi, that I have always had a special place in my world ranking of leaders for you. You are truly a testament that charisma and charm always pay off. I sometimes go to bed with a picture of you I have framed that I hide from my wife.
Adiuso! Amigo!
GWB (your best bud from texas)
Re:
For the last time Bush, my name is Hugo. Please don’t send me anything ever again. You really don’t understand that I hate you to the very core of my being? I think everything about you is evil, and I say a daily prayer that you suffer a painful and sudden death at the hands of an Islamic Regime. Your daughters came to my cinco de mayo party. They are quite the partiers man! And I got to hit both of ‘em at once in the hot tub. I love it. Thanks bro, don’t mess with Venezuela.
Peace
Hugo
P.S. If I were you, I would be sleeping with one eye open. We have a word for people like you in Spanish, but my aides say I shouldn’t use it. Just know that the word on the tips of all of our tongues is “revenge.” I think there are some real player haters in the Middle East who are gonna see something through this time. Best of luck you moron. Get some sleep. You’ll need it where you’re going. You should be ashamed of yourself.
OLDY but goody
hey all.....heres a blast from da past
The Story of a Dog named Spatz, a dog who hates sober people…….From the Doggie’s point of view…
I was born in Upham’s corner, Dorchester. My mother was a real bitch of a rotty, and I was raised to have nothing but disdain for loud Irish jerks.
My father was a German Sheapherd with a real adversity to commitment. He was nailing dogs from Worcester to Back Bay. I only met him twice…..Both times commenced a huge conflict. The conflict was within our household, and I am not comfortable sharing that part of the story right now….
Anyway, My owner has been very busy cleaning carpets for $4 an hour. Meanwhile, his dickhead Nephew has been “taking care of the place.” This means that the place is now completely overrun by mice, and cops. So I have had quite a month, and I am just biding the hours until my mother returns from a 5 week stint in Honduras.
So the gist of this story is the fact that Herchel, I call him Herchballs……Hired a kid named Patrick. Patrick seemed like a great guy, until Herchel decided to offer him a Corona. Pat refused this drink, since it contails the devil’s toxin, alcohol. I was trained to lash out at any person who fails to take a drink from my man, or anyone in the house, actually.
So I bit the kid, I bit him hard, expecting applause from Hershballs. But none came, instead I was alone in the house, wondering where I went wrong. It used to be that I would get a big steak dinner for a move like that, but not so much with Hershel.
Im not sure what to think of that kid, and today I overheard Hershballs saying over the phone that Patrick could hmm hmmm cough cough, “Kick me in the balls”
I’m not happy with this discourse, and I will show my disdain through controlling Patrick’s dreams with images of savage wolfs with rabies. (And socially inadequate skunks, esp ones named Barbara, Endicott, or Vicky………and Katherine
The Story of a Dog named Spatz, a dog who hates sober people…….From the Doggie’s point of view…
I was born in Upham’s corner, Dorchester. My mother was a real bitch of a rotty, and I was raised to have nothing but disdain for loud Irish jerks.
My father was a German Sheapherd with a real adversity to commitment. He was nailing dogs from Worcester to Back Bay. I only met him twice…..Both times commenced a huge conflict. The conflict was within our household, and I am not comfortable sharing that part of the story right now….
Anyway, My owner has been very busy cleaning carpets for $4 an hour. Meanwhile, his dickhead Nephew has been “taking care of the place.” This means that the place is now completely overrun by mice, and cops. So I have had quite a month, and I am just biding the hours until my mother returns from a 5 week stint in Honduras.
So the gist of this story is the fact that Herchel, I call him Herchballs……Hired a kid named Patrick. Patrick seemed like a great guy, until Herchel decided to offer him a Corona. Pat refused this drink, since it contails the devil’s toxin, alcohol. I was trained to lash out at any person who fails to take a drink from my man, or anyone in the house, actually.
So I bit the kid, I bit him hard, expecting applause from Hershballs. But none came, instead I was alone in the house, wondering where I went wrong. It used to be that I would get a big steak dinner for a move like that, but not so much with Hershel.
Im not sure what to think of that kid, and today I overheard Hershballs saying over the phone that Patrick could hmm hmmm cough cough, “Kick me in the balls”
I’m not happy with this discourse, and I will show my disdain through controlling Patrick’s dreams with images of savage wolfs with rabies. (And socially inadequate skunks, esp ones named Barbara, Endicott, or Vicky………and Katherine
2010/06/27
BOWSTON BOWLING
TM #10 - "S-47910"
PATman Bowlbutt 138 208 89 435 1197 9 133 208 435 281 670 --- 67 1 0 0 0 0 M
JIM HOLbyNacker (132) (132) (132) 396 856 6 142 162 430 219 601 --- 58 0 0 0 0 0 M
6. # 4-DOUBLE TROUBLE 14 10 .583 3763 293 332 904 444 1287
7. #10-"S-47910" 14 10 .583 3695 279 340 841 471 1267
8. #11-TEAM #11 12 12 .500 3808 315 377 974 498 1301
9. #16-DEMOLITION 12 12 .500 1304 368 369 1010 467 1304
HIGH HDCP. GAME--MEN HIGH HDCP. SERIES--MEN
-------------------- ----------------------
283 TOM R 715 Huffman
281 PDubs 709 T
271 W.
263 M
*Some names (all Names) have been altered to protect the innocent victims of PenBot Bowling stats.org
Happy Weekend!
PATman Bowlbutt 138 208 89 435 1197 9 133 208 435 281 670 --- 67 1 0 0 0 0 M
JIM HOLbyNacker (132) (132) (132) 396 856 6 142 162 430 219 601 --- 58 0 0 0 0 0 M
6. # 4-DOUBLE TROUBLE 14 10 .583 3763 293 332 904 444 1287
7. #10-"S-47910" 14 10 .583 3695 279 340 841 471 1267
8. #11-TEAM #11 12 12 .500 3808 315 377 974 498 1301
9. #16-DEMOLITION 12 12 .500 1304 368 369 1010 467 1304
HIGH HDCP. GAME--MEN HIGH HDCP. SERIES--MEN
-------------------- ----------------------
283 TOM R 715 Huffman
281 PDubs 709 T
271 W.
263 M
*Some names (all Names) have been altered to protect the innocent victims of PenBot Bowling stats.org
Happy Weekend!
2010/06/22
serious sometimes
Just thought I could show you I can be serious sometimes.....
Comfortably Numb
I was struck today with a memory from Camp Oatka, East Sebago, Maine. While there, I went to an ecumenical service that was designed to be Christian, but not specific to any faith in particular. We listened to music, there was a sermon, and the counselors and CITs shared. The campers prayed and shared a little.
I was struck by the open atmosphere, the non-judgmental nature of the service. I was also really struck by a “sermon” delivered by a Counselor, whose name I can’t remember. He played the Pink Floyed song for us, “Comfortably Numb.” He then spoke about something that was really real for me.
He spoke of how the concept of being comfortably numb, in church, in school , and in family life could lead to a lack of novelty, and essentially a lack of meaning. He also talked about how he was leaving college soon, and would be going into the “real world.” He was worried about how he would become comfortably numb in the real world as well.
The counselor also challenged us to get out of our comfort zones, to explore life as we grew up. He was touching on some really deep stuff, and it hit home. He assured us that questioning was a normal process of growing up, and that it was essential.
I took this message to heart, at the age of 10. Growing up in a Catholic household, I was so accustomed to going to Mass every Sunday, that I had the whole mass memorized. I had come to accept the fact that I was going to be there, no matter what. I also started to become numb to the lack of change in the structure of the service. I was not finding meaning in the mass, and would often daydream. The way that my Mom and Dad brought meaning to it was by asking prompting questions after and before mass. This helped us understand a lot of the structure, tradition, and meaning better.
I also took on service, as an altar boy, and later as a Eucharistic minister, in order to literally have something to do during the service. I also did it, because it was expected (Tim and Tom had done it.) It was also a way of “showing off” my knowledge of the church, and it was one of my earliest public measures of people pleasing. I was good at altar serving, no doubt about it. I was even chosen by Fr. Bailey to serve at his funeral, because he had a fondness for my ability, and attention to detail.
This pattern of what Tim calls “everyday responsibility” was very difficult for me, from the start. I didn’t want to do things, just because that’s what I had to do. I didn’t want to follow rules, just because. I wanted to question life. I wanted to live each day differently. I thrived on structure, but I rebelled in so many ways. I wanted space. I wanted freedom, and I had a loathing for responsibility.
I can remember being in school, and how the year would just seem to fly by. The school year would start, and soon enough it would seem to be ending, and we would be going off for the summer. I remember being so lost sometimes, and struggling to find meaning, even at a really young age. I often thought to myself, what is the point of all this? Why am I here? I also remember how talking about these things with my Mom would impress her, would really make her think I was a genius. She would often remark at how mature that type of thinking was. But my siblings, and my dad would often talk about how that kind of thinking would get me into trouble.
I really believe that here began my illness as a Bipolar alcoholic addict. I was addicted to distractions. I would often avoid hard work, and I relied on my keen intellect, my social skills, and my charm to do this. I was very good at pleasing those who needed to be pleased, and doing what I wanted with the rest of my time. I was mean to kids who didn’t fit in, and I was nice to all parents. I challenged teachers in ways that students hadn’t challenged them before. I got in trouble, but I was able to talk my way out of it. I became adept at deception.
My search for meaning came to an abrupt and screeching halt when I was diagnosed bipolar. I lost my mind, and I struggled to get it back. I wanted to be healthy, but I wanted to have fun. I felt that substances were a great way to do it, and I didn’t want to deal with consequences. I was off to the races, and I was equipped with the tools of deception, intelligence, and determination to do things the way I wanted to, regardless of what anyone had to say.
I have come to realize that life is not that bad. I have been given so much, and I can give back in so many ways. If I stay away from bad decisions, risky behavior, and mind-altering substances, I can do a lot here on earth. If I open up my ears, and listen to people around me, I will truly thrive. I have a path laid before me, by God Almighty, and it is not my job to figure out where that path leads. The only thing I need to know is that I have this moment in which to live. I can’t fix the past, and I am not supposed to know what will happen in the future. With an open ear, with Love in my heart, and with a positive attitude, I can do the right thing. Today, I don’t need to know what this is. That is a gift, and it is a gift I never want to give up.
Comfortably Numb
I was struck today with a memory from Camp Oatka, East Sebago, Maine. While there, I went to an ecumenical service that was designed to be Christian, but not specific to any faith in particular. We listened to music, there was a sermon, and the counselors and CITs shared. The campers prayed and shared a little.
I was struck by the open atmosphere, the non-judgmental nature of the service. I was also really struck by a “sermon” delivered by a Counselor, whose name I can’t remember. He played the Pink Floyed song for us, “Comfortably Numb.” He then spoke about something that was really real for me.
He spoke of how the concept of being comfortably numb, in church, in school , and in family life could lead to a lack of novelty, and essentially a lack of meaning. He also talked about how he was leaving college soon, and would be going into the “real world.” He was worried about how he would become comfortably numb in the real world as well.
The counselor also challenged us to get out of our comfort zones, to explore life as we grew up. He was touching on some really deep stuff, and it hit home. He assured us that questioning was a normal process of growing up, and that it was essential.
I took this message to heart, at the age of 10. Growing up in a Catholic household, I was so accustomed to going to Mass every Sunday, that I had the whole mass memorized. I had come to accept the fact that I was going to be there, no matter what. I also started to become numb to the lack of change in the structure of the service. I was not finding meaning in the mass, and would often daydream. The way that my Mom and Dad brought meaning to it was by asking prompting questions after and before mass. This helped us understand a lot of the structure, tradition, and meaning better.
I also took on service, as an altar boy, and later as a Eucharistic minister, in order to literally have something to do during the service. I also did it, because it was expected (Tim and Tom had done it.) It was also a way of “showing off” my knowledge of the church, and it was one of my earliest public measures of people pleasing. I was good at altar serving, no doubt about it. I was even chosen by Fr. Bailey to serve at his funeral, because he had a fondness for my ability, and attention to detail.
This pattern of what Tim calls “everyday responsibility” was very difficult for me, from the start. I didn’t want to do things, just because that’s what I had to do. I didn’t want to follow rules, just because. I wanted to question life. I wanted to live each day differently. I thrived on structure, but I rebelled in so many ways. I wanted space. I wanted freedom, and I had a loathing for responsibility.
I can remember being in school, and how the year would just seem to fly by. The school year would start, and soon enough it would seem to be ending, and we would be going off for the summer. I remember being so lost sometimes, and struggling to find meaning, even at a really young age. I often thought to myself, what is the point of all this? Why am I here? I also remember how talking about these things with my Mom would impress her, would really make her think I was a genius. She would often remark at how mature that type of thinking was. But my siblings, and my dad would often talk about how that kind of thinking would get me into trouble.
I really believe that here began my illness as a Bipolar alcoholic addict. I was addicted to distractions. I would often avoid hard work, and I relied on my keen intellect, my social skills, and my charm to do this. I was very good at pleasing those who needed to be pleased, and doing what I wanted with the rest of my time. I was mean to kids who didn’t fit in, and I was nice to all parents. I challenged teachers in ways that students hadn’t challenged them before. I got in trouble, but I was able to talk my way out of it. I became adept at deception.
My search for meaning came to an abrupt and screeching halt when I was diagnosed bipolar. I lost my mind, and I struggled to get it back. I wanted to be healthy, but I wanted to have fun. I felt that substances were a great way to do it, and I didn’t want to deal with consequences. I was off to the races, and I was equipped with the tools of deception, intelligence, and determination to do things the way I wanted to, regardless of what anyone had to say.
I have come to realize that life is not that bad. I have been given so much, and I can give back in so many ways. If I stay away from bad decisions, risky behavior, and mind-altering substances, I can do a lot here on earth. If I open up my ears, and listen to people around me, I will truly thrive. I have a path laid before me, by God Almighty, and it is not my job to figure out where that path leads. The only thing I need to know is that I have this moment in which to live. I can’t fix the past, and I am not supposed to know what will happen in the future. With an open ear, with Love in my heart, and with a positive attitude, I can do the right thing. Today, I don’t need to know what this is. That is a gift, and it is a gift I never want to give up.
2010/06/12
San Fran Seals
Upon Reading a book about Ted Williams, in his last few years, reconnecting with his three closest Red Sox teammates...I have only this to say:
Red Sox are the team to beat
The red sox have a history.
Don't even try to start with me
Cause red sox are the best you see
The got Papi
They got droppee
i mean buckner
Not the luckster
He let the ball thru
And he didnt spew
But TRUTH be told
The team is old
san fran they played
But in that day
They stayed,
with one team
you know what I mean?
It was obscene
to see the glean
in the left eye
of that guy
he was no small fry
Teddy ballgame
splendid spintah
The man who rode bomahss
the man who showed
everyone how
to hit it...pow
Out the park
in the dark...nah in the light
they put up a fight,
they lost a few,
but they formed a crew
There was nothin else
no fear, no doubt
just baseball man
that was the plan
They had to win
but they didnt always
they played on blue, on dark,
and cloud days
at fenway pahk
not with Dave stahk
although he might..nah not goin there
Hey dean, whats up?
hey simon, hey greg
Hey ANTONY, hey wes....hey me!
we got a group,
not a troop, not a loop
but heres the scoop
dont take a poop
if youre not lookin
its no big deal
just tell another
how you feel
Teddy ballgame
best hitter of all time
He was the best,
I like to rhyme
but guys, whats up?
I miss you all.
Lets have fun sometime,
lets go to the mall
lets remembah
when we was young
when we knew who
could have the fun
thats all I got
for now, that is.
I have thoughts,
and sometimes
I handle my biz
I work for some company,
It don't matter
its fun, for now
but whats that chatter?
thats boston, thats wistah
thats weahevah we are
We know when
to drive a car
but we know who can make it work
Simon's racin, in a triatholon
Hes burning steam
hes fast, hes strong
Hes probably the best.
but im not tellin
Its smokin rubbah,
the only thing im smellin
Beean spooneylove,
Greg with the legs
Wes with the chest
and tony the pony
Dave will behave
hes a real smaht guy
and heres pat in a hat
and all he does is try
So smile a little,
I'll play the fiddle
we can dance a jig
and create a riddle
an enigma maybe
but dont get rabies
from a dog named lady
have some fun today, guys, please
But come on ery buddy
come one, come all
to:::::
BOSTON BOWL........boston bowl
Boston bowl, rock and roll
Love ya Seattle....good nite folks.....
Peace and love, bat and glove.
Red sox rule, yankees suck
CELTIC PRIDE...stay alive boys in green.
and listen up, kobe aint that mean
he might be a dick
he may be slick
but the green will take it
they got the truth
they got rondo,
they got the booth
they got class
they got parque
they got a coach
with no malarkey
no charles barkly
the no longer greet
no pistol pete
-PW HATSLEY
Red Sox are the team to beat
The red sox have a history.
Don't even try to start with me
Cause red sox are the best you see
The got Papi
They got droppee
i mean buckner
Not the luckster
He let the ball thru
And he didnt spew
But TRUTH be told
The team is old
san fran they played
But in that day
They stayed,
with one team
you know what I mean?
It was obscene
to see the glean
in the left eye
of that guy
he was no small fry
Teddy ballgame
splendid spintah
The man who rode bomahss
the man who showed
everyone how
to hit it...pow
Out the park
in the dark...nah in the light
they put up a fight,
they lost a few,
but they formed a crew
There was nothin else
no fear, no doubt
just baseball man
that was the plan
They had to win
but they didnt always
they played on blue, on dark,
and cloud days
at fenway pahk
not with Dave stahk
although he might..nah not goin there
Hey dean, whats up?
hey simon, hey greg
Hey ANTONY, hey wes....hey me!
we got a group,
not a troop, not a loop
but heres the scoop
dont take a poop
if youre not lookin
its no big deal
just tell another
how you feel
Teddy ballgame
best hitter of all time
He was the best,
I like to rhyme
but guys, whats up?
I miss you all.
Lets have fun sometime,
lets go to the mall
lets remembah
when we was young
when we knew who
could have the fun
thats all I got
for now, that is.
I have thoughts,
and sometimes
I handle my biz
I work for some company,
It don't matter
its fun, for now
but whats that chatter?
thats boston, thats wistah
thats weahevah we are
We know when
to drive a car
but we know who can make it work
Simon's racin, in a triatholon
Hes burning steam
hes fast, hes strong
Hes probably the best.
but im not tellin
Its smokin rubbah,
the only thing im smellin
Beean spooneylove,
Greg with the legs
Wes with the chest
and tony the pony
Dave will behave
hes a real smaht guy
and heres pat in a hat
and all he does is try
So smile a little,
I'll play the fiddle
we can dance a jig
and create a riddle
an enigma maybe
but dont get rabies
from a dog named lady
have some fun today, guys, please
But come on ery buddy
come one, come all
to:::::
BOSTON BOWL........boston bowl
Boston bowl, rock and roll
Love ya Seattle....good nite folks.....
Peace and love, bat and glove.
Red sox rule, yankees suck
CELTIC PRIDE...stay alive boys in green.
and listen up, kobe aint that mean
he might be a dick
he may be slick
but the green will take it
they got the truth
they got rondo,
they got the booth
they got class
they got parque
they got a coach
with no malarkey
no charles barkly
the no longer greet
no pistol pete
-PW HATSLEY
2010/06/10
Places I can't go
Patchwirk Donovan has a problem:
There is a warrant out for his arrest in PA right now. So this wouldn't normally be an issue, but the company that PW wirks for has a plant in PA. He might have to go there. He hopes he does not get pulled ovah.
The following is a list of places PW can't go:
Any bar
The park
A cigarette factory
a brewery
Canada
Europe
Mexico
Brookline
Any where besides work, home, boston bowl (he's in a league)
Sorry to alarm the readers, but I am just a little werried. Love ya all.
Nobody to run to
Sherrif's on my trail
I gotta move slow
like a fuckin snail
the sun may blow
I ride the rail
FEel the Flow(rence)
And just dont bail
WE all got issues
thats no joke
But here I am
Not a horrible bloak
You smell like crap
And thats no lie
But dont ask me
to eat the whole pie
I feel like a dick
But i dont lie
Im not slick rick
Im a white guy
And irish kid
To be exact
And thats just why
I cant drink jack
I cant drink beer
I cant drink sodawater
I cant drink anything
Thats the bother
back it up
Dump it in
Let me end here
Cause I'm full of sin
But who isnt
Im leavin
Love you guys
and im still breathing
There is a warrant out for his arrest in PA right now. So this wouldn't normally be an issue, but the company that PW wirks for has a plant in PA. He might have to go there. He hopes he does not get pulled ovah.
The following is a list of places PW can't go:
Any bar
The park
A cigarette factory
a brewery
Canada
Europe
Mexico
Brookline
Any where besides work, home, boston bowl (he's in a league)
Sorry to alarm the readers, but I am just a little werried. Love ya all.
Nobody to run to
Sherrif's on my trail
I gotta move slow
like a fuckin snail
the sun may blow
I ride the rail
FEel the Flow(rence)
And just dont bail
WE all got issues
thats no joke
But here I am
Not a horrible bloak
You smell like crap
And thats no lie
But dont ask me
to eat the whole pie
I feel like a dick
But i dont lie
Im not slick rick
Im a white guy
And irish kid
To be exact
And thats just why
I cant drink jack
I cant drink beer
I cant drink sodawater
I cant drink anything
Thats the bother
back it up
Dump it in
Let me end here
Cause I'm full of sin
But who isnt
Im leavin
Love you guys
and im still breathing
2010/05/28
A friday post for wednesday
Hey Readers:
Funny thing about working in the boston area, I keep running into you knuckleheads by chance. I saw the original Boston Beaneater today, (bean spoonerfield) on my way to work. He looks like a million bucks all dressed up for work, huh?!?
Anyway, the faithful few readers stick it out, to hear what I have to say. I am doing ok today, and it is for a few reasons:
1. I have not dropped dead yet of the heat (although I’m close)
2. I’m sobah, and have not had a smokerette in ovah 45 days: saving money and time on my life
3. I have a job (I keep on showing up, and they keep on paying me)
4. I have the support of a lovely wife/girlfriend, you guys, and my family
5. My injured hero-brother is doing very very well, and I saw him recently
6. I am alive to talk about it
7. Dean looks amazing, and can rip a phone book in half with his bare hands
8. I don’t smell so bad anymore
9. Memorial day is right around the corner
10. I might be able to go bowling again soon
So let’s all take a deep breath, thank God, Jehovah, Jebus, Beavis, Jason Varitek, or whoever you choose to thank, and go about the day with a humpy smile on the facials.
Thanks is due for Gregsly Leggington, who made me laugh last night for roughly 30 minutes when referring to a certain act of funtime.
Remember, spay or neuter you cats, dogs, and guinea pigs. You’ve been great…back to work.
PDUBS
Funny thing about working in the boston area, I keep running into you knuckleheads by chance. I saw the original Boston Beaneater today, (bean spoonerfield) on my way to work. He looks like a million bucks all dressed up for work, huh?!?
Anyway, the faithful few readers stick it out, to hear what I have to say. I am doing ok today, and it is for a few reasons:
1. I have not dropped dead yet of the heat (although I’m close)
2. I’m sobah, and have not had a smokerette in ovah 45 days: saving money and time on my life
3. I have a job (I keep on showing up, and they keep on paying me)
4. I have the support of a lovely wife/girlfriend, you guys, and my family
5. My injured hero-brother is doing very very well, and I saw him recently
6. I am alive to talk about it
7. Dean looks amazing, and can rip a phone book in half with his bare hands
8. I don’t smell so bad anymore
9. Memorial day is right around the corner
10. I might be able to go bowling again soon
So let’s all take a deep breath, thank God, Jehovah, Jebus, Beavis, Jason Varitek, or whoever you choose to thank, and go about the day with a humpy smile on the facials.
Thanks is due for Gregsly Leggington, who made me laugh last night for roughly 30 minutes when referring to a certain act of funtime.
Remember, spay or neuter you cats, dogs, and guinea pigs. You’ve been great…back to work.
PDUBS
2010/05/25
OUCH
Mouf Hurty
I remember in health class, looking at pictures of people with mouth cancer, or lung cancer. I would say…there is no way I am ever going to smoke a cigarette, or have a dip.
Then I tried dip when I was 16…I got a buzz that was better than any drink or drug I ever did. So, I was hooked. From that first dip, I was hooked on the feeling that nicotine brought. Well, now I have 44 days without any nicotine whatsoever. I belong to www.quitnet.com, which sends me daily stats of how my health is improving and how much money I am saving by staying off the bad shit.
BUT, I now have a white lesion in my mouth that has been hurting me for a week. I am headed in for a biopsy of it this morning. Wish me luck readers, and do not, under any circumstances, ever pick up a cigarette or any other form of tobacco. EVER.
Love you guys…say a little prayer for the hat wearer.
BTW….I am meeting Gov. Patrick on Thursday night…
I remember in health class, looking at pictures of people with mouth cancer, or lung cancer. I would say…there is no way I am ever going to smoke a cigarette, or have a dip.
Then I tried dip when I was 16…I got a buzz that was better than any drink or drug I ever did. So, I was hooked. From that first dip, I was hooked on the feeling that nicotine brought. Well, now I have 44 days without any nicotine whatsoever. I belong to www.quitnet.com, which sends me daily stats of how my health is improving and how much money I am saving by staying off the bad shit.
BUT, I now have a white lesion in my mouth that has been hurting me for a week. I am headed in for a biopsy of it this morning. Wish me luck readers, and do not, under any circumstances, ever pick up a cigarette or any other form of tobacco. EVER.
Love you guys…say a little prayer for the hat wearer.
BTW….I am meeting Gov. Patrick on Thursday night…
2010/05/22
I am blessed, but I cant.
I am blessed
I’m blessed to be alive today.
But You know what? I wanna punch people.
I want to drink coffee, but I cant. I want to have a cigarette, but I cant.
I want a million dollars, that’s not happening.
I want to fly my own jet to Aruba, but I don’t have my own jet.
I want to drink all the fucking booze that is in Framingham, but I cant
I want to smoke a cigarette…but I already said that
I want to punch the window pane out, but that would hurt.
I want to drive my piece of shit car into a fucking water hole, but then I woudnt have a car
I want to smack myself in the face, but that would hurt
Good morning everybody, Hope youre having as pleasant of a day as I am.
Anyone wanna go fishing? Because fishing and bowling are all I can think about.
I’m blessed to be alive today.
But You know what? I wanna punch people.
I want to drink coffee, but I cant. I want to have a cigarette, but I cant.
I want a million dollars, that’s not happening.
I want to fly my own jet to Aruba, but I don’t have my own jet.
I want to drink all the fucking booze that is in Framingham, but I cant
I want to smoke a cigarette…but I already said that
I want to punch the window pane out, but that would hurt.
I want to drive my piece of shit car into a fucking water hole, but then I woudnt have a car
I want to smack myself in the face, but that would hurt
Good morning everybody, Hope youre having as pleasant of a day as I am.
Anyone wanna go fishing? Because fishing and bowling are all I can think about.
2010/05/20
BLOG YOURSELF, BASTARD
Blog yourself Kid
In a fleeting moment of better judgement, I have come to realize that my blogs have been very mean. I have been poking fun at so many people around me, and not using the best material around….THIS GUY!
What a joke I can be…what a jokester, but what a smokester.
Smoke and mirrors, what evah….throwing accents around like im bettahh
Who died and made me king?
Bringin hate isn’t sure to win
Come on now, theres funny stuff here. Im really silly, but im not queer. Well, im kinda weird, but at least not normal. I often talk like im real formal.
But leave me be, let me pick on others
Don’t make me see, let me hide under covers
Under layers of silly, layers of funny,
Layers of bullshit, Im no dummy
I pick problems with others, when I’m scared
Its not that bad, not as bad as I’ve feared
Why do I do this, I might ask
Is it some problem that I was born with?
Or did it come from a flask?
Why do I talk like my shit don’t stink
When after I dump, I often think
What climbed up there kid?
What died in my rear?
And why am I being so serious here?
C’mon man, lighten up, its fun to be sobah
You know you need to,
Cause otherwise its over
You could die tomorrow,
From a freak plane crash,
But you know what man?
I wanna last.
I don’t wanna die from smoking no cig
And I don’t wanna die from acting all big
I don’t wanna die from a slug to the brain
And I certainly don’t wanna die insane
I wanna live a long happy life
And I really want to have Sarah as wife
I wanna do something here on this earth
And I’ve only been fucking around since my birth
I need to get serious, but do it with grace
And you know, I have what it takes
I love myself, and I love others
And its time to come out of the covers
Love my self enough to be sober
Even if I do still hate Dover
I am who I am, I cant change that
I may be a drunk,
But Im still Pat in a hat.
In a fleeting moment of better judgement, I have come to realize that my blogs have been very mean. I have been poking fun at so many people around me, and not using the best material around….THIS GUY!
What a joke I can be…what a jokester, but what a smokester.
Smoke and mirrors, what evah….throwing accents around like im bettahh
Who died and made me king?
Bringin hate isn’t sure to win
Come on now, theres funny stuff here. Im really silly, but im not queer. Well, im kinda weird, but at least not normal. I often talk like im real formal.
But leave me be, let me pick on others
Don’t make me see, let me hide under covers
Under layers of silly, layers of funny,
Layers of bullshit, Im no dummy
I pick problems with others, when I’m scared
Its not that bad, not as bad as I’ve feared
Why do I do this, I might ask
Is it some problem that I was born with?
Or did it come from a flask?
Why do I talk like my shit don’t stink
When after I dump, I often think
What climbed up there kid?
What died in my rear?
And why am I being so serious here?
C’mon man, lighten up, its fun to be sobah
You know you need to,
Cause otherwise its over
You could die tomorrow,
From a freak plane crash,
But you know what man?
I wanna last.
I don’t wanna die from smoking no cig
And I don’t wanna die from acting all big
I don’t wanna die from a slug to the brain
And I certainly don’t wanna die insane
I wanna live a long happy life
And I really want to have Sarah as wife
I wanna do something here on this earth
And I’ve only been fucking around since my birth
I need to get serious, but do it with grace
And you know, I have what it takes
I love myself, and I love others
And its time to come out of the covers
Love my self enough to be sober
Even if I do still hate Dover
I am who I am, I cant change that
I may be a drunk,
But Im still Pat in a hat.
2010/05/12
Humpy Day
The day that humped the camel back
Happy hump day readers.
I hope we all have some fun today, because mr. weekend is right around the corner.
I am grateful to be alive today. And believe you me, I’m feeling ok.
So did anyone see Mrs. Bush on Oprah? I did not, but I know someone who did. I guess the woman got up and told the country how she killed someone while driving drunk. I really respect that honest, but its very interesting that she is so willing to be honest, AFTER THE FACT. Did we have this type of statement before her chimpanzee husband was elected, brought the economy from the biggest period of economic expansion in its history, to a screeching halt, and somehow managed to offend every other country in the world?
In a quick comparison, Obama detailed his experiences in a well-worded, honest memoirs (2 memoirs) before being elected. Bush Dubya actually had a DUI on his record, from an era when DUI’s were harder to get than a sunburn in an underground tunnel. I know I need to just back away from this one, but I feel like the American public deserves an apology, not a smiling laura bush talking about how she loves reggae music (yeah, bob marley is my fav!!!!)
She also mentioned that George just one day woke up and said….I don’t want to drink anymore. He apparently looked at his bill from the night before and said it was too much. Bullllllllllsnit. And he “wasn’t the kind of guy who needed a program to quit” Ok Laura, slow your role.
And shoe throwers get locked up? What about Bushie and Cheney? Little help here?
Anyway, I hope we all have a vonderbal day. I want to go bowling, but I can’t. Happy go tacky…..
A short ditty:
Boston is fun
Boston is ugly
Boston in the sun
Boston gets juggly
Don’t go to boston
If you don’t like the red sox
Don’t go to boston
If you eat salmon an lox
Say hi to someone
You might get your face punched
Say bye to someone
And get your bumper crunched
Boston is smelly
Boston is sweet
Boston is fun
When the birds go tweet
I don’t like boston
In winter or summer
But being in boston
Aint always a bummer
Happy hump day readers.
I hope we all have some fun today, because mr. weekend is right around the corner.
I am grateful to be alive today. And believe you me, I’m feeling ok.
So did anyone see Mrs. Bush on Oprah? I did not, but I know someone who did. I guess the woman got up and told the country how she killed someone while driving drunk. I really respect that honest, but its very interesting that she is so willing to be honest, AFTER THE FACT. Did we have this type of statement before her chimpanzee husband was elected, brought the economy from the biggest period of economic expansion in its history, to a screeching halt, and somehow managed to offend every other country in the world?
In a quick comparison, Obama detailed his experiences in a well-worded, honest memoirs (2 memoirs) before being elected. Bush Dubya actually had a DUI on his record, from an era when DUI’s were harder to get than a sunburn in an underground tunnel. I know I need to just back away from this one, but I feel like the American public deserves an apology, not a smiling laura bush talking about how she loves reggae music (yeah, bob marley is my fav!!!!)
She also mentioned that George just one day woke up and said….I don’t want to drink anymore. He apparently looked at his bill from the night before and said it was too much. Bullllllllllsnit. And he “wasn’t the kind of guy who needed a program to quit” Ok Laura, slow your role.
And shoe throwers get locked up? What about Bushie and Cheney? Little help here?
Anyway, I hope we all have a vonderbal day. I want to go bowling, but I can’t. Happy go tacky…..
A short ditty:
Boston is fun
Boston is ugly
Boston in the sun
Boston gets juggly
Don’t go to boston
If you don’t like the red sox
Don’t go to boston
If you eat salmon an lox
Say hi to someone
You might get your face punched
Say bye to someone
And get your bumper crunched
Boston is smelly
Boston is sweet
Boston is fun
When the birds go tweet
I don’t like boston
In winter or summer
But being in boston
Aint always a bummer
2010/05/11
Spring Frost, Spring Lost
Spring Frost, Spring Lost?
Florence here, just trying my breast to be a great receptionist.
Yesterday, I had lunch by the fountain, in the town where I work. I was sitting by the water, and feeding the ducks, when all of a sudden a couple of giant behemoths rose from the depths. I was in awe….and I thought I might be suffering from (or enjoying) hallucinations, but a nearby woman said “HOLY CARP, I mean CRAP” No, really, these things were huge, and probably from the Paleolithic era.
So my editor in chief, I mean wife, was reviewing my writing from last week, and pointed to what she thought was a typo…”the earth was knocked off its tit” this was no typo….have you heard the boobquake theory? If not, go ask ya motha..
So at work, there is a guy named Tom (not to be confused with Thomas the tight-ass Texas Teabagger, I’ll get to him another day.) Now Tom is a nice guy, we think, but he has some really funny habits. Like he has a need to ask me what I think about shit that does not matter. He keeps grabbing chocolates right by my desk, and said to me “What do you think of the fact that I keep getting up to get chocolates during the day” In my head, I was like “Well, I don’t spend too much time thinking about shit like that, Tom” but I knew he wanted reassurance, so I said, “Everyone grabs those chocolates, Tom.” The kid is just nervous, and unsure of himself. But when we were talking about weekend activities, he said, “I like to sit around with my buddies and drink beers.” And when I said that I don’t drink, he was like “WHY????”
Poor kid tho, just trying to fit in with Flo, you know?
And hilariousness ensued, when he was trying to get to know the other new person in his dept, and she said to him “DO you know how to rollerblade?” He was like….”yeah, I know how, to rollerblade…”
But I think my funniest encounter with him was last Friday, I said…”so, what are you planning for this weekend.” In an effort to impress, he said, “Well,they always have these road races, I think I might go run one.” On Monday I was like, he Tom, how was the race, he said sheepishly, “I didn’t do it.”
Another day sober, another day older. More than 3 weeks without a cig, and going strong. Love you guys….take care.
Florence here, just trying my breast to be a great receptionist.
Yesterday, I had lunch by the fountain, in the town where I work. I was sitting by the water, and feeding the ducks, when all of a sudden a couple of giant behemoths rose from the depths. I was in awe….and I thought I might be suffering from (or enjoying) hallucinations, but a nearby woman said “HOLY CARP, I mean CRAP” No, really, these things were huge, and probably from the Paleolithic era.
So my editor in chief, I mean wife, was reviewing my writing from last week, and pointed to what she thought was a typo…”the earth was knocked off its tit” this was no typo….have you heard the boobquake theory? If not, go ask ya motha..
So at work, there is a guy named Tom (not to be confused with Thomas the tight-ass Texas Teabagger, I’ll get to him another day.) Now Tom is a nice guy, we think, but he has some really funny habits. Like he has a need to ask me what I think about shit that does not matter. He keeps grabbing chocolates right by my desk, and said to me “What do you think of the fact that I keep getting up to get chocolates during the day” In my head, I was like “Well, I don’t spend too much time thinking about shit like that, Tom” but I knew he wanted reassurance, so I said, “Everyone grabs those chocolates, Tom.” The kid is just nervous, and unsure of himself. But when we were talking about weekend activities, he said, “I like to sit around with my buddies and drink beers.” And when I said that I don’t drink, he was like “WHY????”
Poor kid tho, just trying to fit in with Flo, you know?
And hilariousness ensued, when he was trying to get to know the other new person in his dept, and she said to him “DO you know how to rollerblade?” He was like….”yeah, I know how, to rollerblade…”
But I think my funniest encounter with him was last Friday, I said…”so, what are you planning for this weekend.” In an effort to impress, he said, “Well,they always have these road races, I think I might go run one.” On Monday I was like, he Tom, how was the race, he said sheepishly, “I didn’t do it.”
Another day sober, another day older. More than 3 weeks without a cig, and going strong. Love you guys….take care.
2010/05/06
Bowling terminology, and other Fishbowlian observations
So, we haven't been bowling as a group in a while, but I have been meaning to add something....We have a patented turkey dance, where I gobble like a crazy turkey whenever someone bowls one. I would like to propose that all strike series should be called bird names. Thus..
two strikes....CHICKEN
three strikes....Turkey
4 Strikes.....EMU
5 Strikes......Pterydactyl Bird
6 Strikes.......Big BIRD
7 strikes.....unrealistic
8 strikes.....Blue Footed Booby
9 Strikes....PW HATSBIRD
10 strikes....ROBBIN BIRDINGTON
So, we have other crazy shit to report......
IN an ant like moment, the other day, an older engineer sent out an email to the entire group of employees, including COO and head of HR which read...and I QUOTE:
subj: Brace yourself, Shelia....
Body: What did ivy league schools and/or living in boston do to you *@&#^$@ people? If you borrowed a tool from my tool kit, put it back. If you use my area for a project, clean up after yourself. I may be a MAATHE, but I am NOT your MOTHER....
Thanks guys...more tomorrow.
PW HATSLEY
two strikes....CHICKEN
three strikes....Turkey
4 Strikes.....EMU
5 Strikes......Pterydactyl Bird
6 Strikes.......Big BIRD
7 strikes.....unrealistic
8 strikes.....Blue Footed Booby
9 Strikes....PW HATSBIRD
10 strikes....ROBBIN BIRDINGTON
So, we have other crazy shit to report......
IN an ant like moment, the other day, an older engineer sent out an email to the entire group of employees, including COO and head of HR which read...and I QUOTE:
subj: Brace yourself, Shelia....
Body: What did ivy league schools and/or living in boston do to you *@&#^$@ people? If you borrowed a tool from my tool kit, put it back. If you use my area for a project, clean up after yourself. I may be a MAATHE, but I am NOT your MOTHER....
Thanks guys...more tomorrow.
PW HATSLEY
Rock and ROLL MACdonohue's
So, I’m sorry for losing touch with the few, the proud, the readers……but I was caught up in the volcanic cloud that was my early spring……Seriously folks, its good to be back.
I apologize for the fact that all previous content was jettisoned, but it was time for some new stuff. (aparently Georgie Dubya got a little upset about the email I posted, and threatened to expand his brush burning to my backyard)
But really guys (and gals, if we even have a female reader) what happened to this world/our anonymous author over the past 4 months? Let’s recap for those of us who try to avoid world news sources and PW’s life drama.
Earthquake hits Chile, one of our author’s favorite stomping grounds. Not only did the earthquake hit Chile, but it wreaked havoc on the people that Mr. Hatsley has helped on two separate occasions. It also somehow put the earth on a different tit, or changed the axil rose (I am not a physicist, but I heard something about this)
Tsunamis…..
A volcanic cloud engulfs Europe, at the same time that Greece’s economy starts to collapse. Now I don’t really see a connection, but I thought I would get all the euro-trash talk out of the way in one paragraph. Flights shut down, people yell, complain about missing flights…..you get the picture.
But the most astounding thing to happen in the past 4 months was……….our author got a job. A full timey gig, health insurance and all. Please, hold your applause till after I finish patting myself on the pat. No pat intended, remember, this author is anonymous for a reason.
But the job is kinda cool. I can’t discuss details on the blog, because of a non-disclosable whachamacallit. (I am not a lawyer)
So please welcome, the man who has worn many hats, check that, any hat……Pdubs the RECEPTIONIST!!!!!! You can call me an administrative assistant if you like.
Ok, so I can’t tell my readers where I work, but I can tell you some of the hilarious things that go on from day to day at this post. To start, let’s be serious….who in this company does not have suspicions that I am a homosexual. I mean, Tommy C. and Sal in the warehouse have already pointed out 12 times that when I call them from my direct line, the internal caller id comes up as Florence. This is something they find Hilarious……good for you guys. Rag on the new kid because of a mistake which the lazy IT ass hasn’t bothered to fix yet. Our IT man has promised a new phone system since I got there, (and apparently for months previous to that.)
But wait, there’s more….Our owner is Russian. Not funny for most people, especially since, as my dad says…..”In order to have made money in the transition from communism to capitalism in Russia, you have to have been biting the heads of rats.” Direct quote.
However, I find this funny, mainly because I can do a pretty convincing Russian accent. I have been reminded that this accent is not acceptable plenty of times, and I have since stopped doing it at work, but we have yet to see this guy. He has promised to show up now for two weeks, and we are all waiting “on pins and needles” as C. keeps saying.
But there are so many characters at this new job, and I am in the perfect spot to observe. I am not going to disclose all details at once, but rest assured that I have been taking notes. I will be sure to blog very often to keep my fellow friendlies updated. Especially since I miss you guys so much….awwwww. Somehow, tho, I ran into a Greg with Legs on my lunch break yesterday….small world.
But if it wasn’t hard enough for me to work 80 hours a week without ever having booze, I have quit smoking as well. And my boss thought it was funny to pull out a bottle of whisky to tempt me in the interview, because, he said…..”How can I trust an Irishman who doesn’t drink?” Rest assured, I politely declined. Don’t worry Rob, in my head I was “recoiling as if from a hot flame. Although I prefer to think of it as a deadly viper.”
So yup, that’s me….stick in the mud Pdubs….Abstinent from all fun substances. I feel good about it, but damn…..whooda thunkit? I do, however, stil allow myself to indulge in the delusion that I might be able to get a laugh outta some of you guys, from time to time. (insert retard face…..scott brown has whatttt???)
Speaking of politics, anyone catch Obama’s speech the other night? Where he lampooned Mitt the twit and Brownie boy , almost in the same breath? That guy is incredible, he’s changing the world, cleaning up 8 years of a bonobo’s presidential blunders, and he still has the time to deliver well written material? Damn, I’m not gay, but that man is Sexxxxxy.
I would like to introduce a little game I thought up called……HOW’d THAT work OUT for YA???
The way we play is…..we ask people “How’d that work out for ya?” Not to complicated, right? Okay, here goes…..
Republicans, you took control of the white house, for 8 years, then lost your power to a black man/socialist. You had a good run at fucking things up, cut taxes with reconciliation, broke law after law, waged wars all over the goddamn globe, and still find it appropriate to complain about “fair and balanced politics in Washington” You guys sound like a bunch of crying ninnymuffins, but…….HOW’d that work out for ya?????
And Sarah Palin…….you look kinda cute, you talk kinda funny, and you dropped out of a governorship to run around the country talking about guns and shit that you don’t understand…….so, HOW’d that work out for ya???
And not to be mean, I love you Conan….but youre acting like a spoiled brat, even though you know Jay Leno has more money and power than Donald Trump (not literally) so, sorry bro but….how’d that work out for ya?
And Arizona…..although the story is not fully told yet…..you are trying to promote what I call “redneck legislation” in a state that is run on immigrant sweat. Other states are talking about boycotting your state all together….so, How’s that working out for ya????
If I sound a little glib, or a little smug…..I’m sorry, but I am a Liberal, and I am so sick and tired of Repubs and Teabaggers complaining about shit that doesn’t even make sense, or is even based in reality, ie the whole birthing bullshit…..SO I had to throw that out there.
So, more to come….for now though, please understand that our author is sorry for not posting more. Project Pat was underway, and luckily our anonymous author made it out the other side……Stay tuned.
I apologize for the fact that all previous content was jettisoned, but it was time for some new stuff. (aparently Georgie Dubya got a little upset about the email I posted, and threatened to expand his brush burning to my backyard)
But really guys (and gals, if we even have a female reader) what happened to this world/our anonymous author over the past 4 months? Let’s recap for those of us who try to avoid world news sources and PW’s life drama.
Earthquake hits Chile, one of our author’s favorite stomping grounds. Not only did the earthquake hit Chile, but it wreaked havoc on the people that Mr. Hatsley has helped on two separate occasions. It also somehow put the earth on a different tit, or changed the axil rose (I am not a physicist, but I heard something about this)
Tsunamis…..
A volcanic cloud engulfs Europe, at the same time that Greece’s economy starts to collapse. Now I don’t really see a connection, but I thought I would get all the euro-trash talk out of the way in one paragraph. Flights shut down, people yell, complain about missing flights…..you get the picture.
But the most astounding thing to happen in the past 4 months was……….our author got a job. A full timey gig, health insurance and all. Please, hold your applause till after I finish patting myself on the pat. No pat intended, remember, this author is anonymous for a reason.
But the job is kinda cool. I can’t discuss details on the blog, because of a non-disclosable whachamacallit. (I am not a lawyer)
So please welcome, the man who has worn many hats, check that, any hat……Pdubs the RECEPTIONIST!!!!!! You can call me an administrative assistant if you like.
Ok, so I can’t tell my readers where I work, but I can tell you some of the hilarious things that go on from day to day at this post. To start, let’s be serious….who in this company does not have suspicions that I am a homosexual. I mean, Tommy C. and Sal in the warehouse have already pointed out 12 times that when I call them from my direct line, the internal caller id comes up as Florence. This is something they find Hilarious……good for you guys. Rag on the new kid because of a mistake which the lazy IT ass hasn’t bothered to fix yet. Our IT man has promised a new phone system since I got there, (and apparently for months previous to that.)
But wait, there’s more….Our owner is Russian. Not funny for most people, especially since, as my dad says…..”In order to have made money in the transition from communism to capitalism in Russia, you have to have been biting the heads of rats.” Direct quote.
However, I find this funny, mainly because I can do a pretty convincing Russian accent. I have been reminded that this accent is not acceptable plenty of times, and I have since stopped doing it at work, but we have yet to see this guy. He has promised to show up now for two weeks, and we are all waiting “on pins and needles” as C. keeps saying.
But there are so many characters at this new job, and I am in the perfect spot to observe. I am not going to disclose all details at once, but rest assured that I have been taking notes. I will be sure to blog very often to keep my fellow friendlies updated. Especially since I miss you guys so much….awwwww. Somehow, tho, I ran into a Greg with Legs on my lunch break yesterday….small world.
But if it wasn’t hard enough for me to work 80 hours a week without ever having booze, I have quit smoking as well. And my boss thought it was funny to pull out a bottle of whisky to tempt me in the interview, because, he said…..”How can I trust an Irishman who doesn’t drink?” Rest assured, I politely declined. Don’t worry Rob, in my head I was “recoiling as if from a hot flame. Although I prefer to think of it as a deadly viper.”
So yup, that’s me….stick in the mud Pdubs….Abstinent from all fun substances. I feel good about it, but damn…..whooda thunkit? I do, however, stil allow myself to indulge in the delusion that I might be able to get a laugh outta some of you guys, from time to time. (insert retard face…..scott brown has whatttt???)
Speaking of politics, anyone catch Obama’s speech the other night? Where he lampooned Mitt the twit and Brownie boy , almost in the same breath? That guy is incredible, he’s changing the world, cleaning up 8 years of a bonobo’s presidential blunders, and he still has the time to deliver well written material? Damn, I’m not gay, but that man is Sexxxxxy.
I would like to introduce a little game I thought up called……HOW’d THAT work OUT for YA???
The way we play is…..we ask people “How’d that work out for ya?” Not to complicated, right? Okay, here goes…..
Republicans, you took control of the white house, for 8 years, then lost your power to a black man/socialist. You had a good run at fucking things up, cut taxes with reconciliation, broke law after law, waged wars all over the goddamn globe, and still find it appropriate to complain about “fair and balanced politics in Washington” You guys sound like a bunch of crying ninnymuffins, but…….HOW’d that work out for ya?????
And Sarah Palin…….you look kinda cute, you talk kinda funny, and you dropped out of a governorship to run around the country talking about guns and shit that you don’t understand…….so, HOW’d that work out for ya???
And not to be mean, I love you Conan….but youre acting like a spoiled brat, even though you know Jay Leno has more money and power than Donald Trump (not literally) so, sorry bro but….how’d that work out for ya?
And Arizona…..although the story is not fully told yet…..you are trying to promote what I call “redneck legislation” in a state that is run on immigrant sweat. Other states are talking about boycotting your state all together….so, How’s that working out for ya????
If I sound a little glib, or a little smug…..I’m sorry, but I am a Liberal, and I am so sick and tired of Repubs and Teabaggers complaining about shit that doesn’t even make sense, or is even based in reality, ie the whole birthing bullshit…..SO I had to throw that out there.
So, more to come….for now though, please understand that our author is sorry for not posting more. Project Pat was underway, and luckily our anonymous author made it out the other side……Stay tuned.
2010/04/03
International Leg Day
26 years ago today, the earth was blessed with the gift of legs.
Not just any legs, Greg with the Legs.
So let's play: that's Greg (with the LEGS)
Who's the silliest guy we know, by far?
Straight outta Dover, A rising star….
That's Greg (with the LEGS)
Who's got reason, charisma, and class?
Who comes at you with the flash…..
That's Greg (with the LEGS)
Who's got the smile that warms your heart
Even when you're dying from Dean's omelet fart…
That's Greg (with the LEGS)
Who's got the lyrical freestyle
That makes us giggle like a child?
That's Greg (with the LEGS)
Who's the original trend setter,
City dweller,
Subway smeller,
Wanna know? I'll tell ya,
That's Greg (with the LEGS)
Who's a friend to the end,
Never letting values bend,
Showing love to all,
Rising above the call,
That's Greg (with the LEGS)
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