Note to whoever keeps searching for Misty Roe

The Hee Haw girl you're looking for spells her name Misty Rowe. There's some basic information here. If you're looking for nudie pictures, you're on your own, pal.

Mel and his mouth

So there's a lot of yammering about Mel Gibson and some loathesome things he said after he had a snootful and got caught driving. Apparently his apology wasn't sufficient (although it was far humbler than most of the "public apologies" I've heard). Because what you say when you're drunk is exacctly what you really think, isn't it?

Honestly, does anybody really think this would be an issue if it were any other star? But Gibson made an unapologetic, undisguised Christian film and – worse – succeeded with it. So anything he does is going to be more scrutinized than a star who fits in with the liberal establishment. Does anybody pay any attention to what Madonna has to say when she's snockered? Please.

Anybody who wants to wax self-righteous about Mel is hereby required to read this first. No excceptions.

Sorry for the light posting

The Grant County Fair is in two weeks, and I'm swamped. What does the fair have to do with me, you ask? Well, the Greatest Newspaper in the Northwest™ produces a guidebook every year for the fair, and it's probably the biggest project I work on. I'm spending long, sleepless nights at the office, cursing co-workers who are home in their soft beds and fighting down the urge to douse my computer in gas and torch the SOB. I do have another post I want to put up, but I don't know when there will be a break in the chaos.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue..

I don't know whether to laugh or cry

A Hip Hop Mass. Really. At least it's an Episcopal liturgy, and we kind of expect weirdness from them these days. If it were a Catholic one, I'd have some right to be upset. As it is, all I can do is stare slackjawed at the sheer awfulness of the idea.

"And even though I walk through the hood of death, /I don't back down, for You have my back..."? Oh, would that this were in the Onion!

Friday Funny

Do nuns sell cookies? This is the first I've heard of that. And if so, do they wear green habits and beret-shaped wimples?

Courtesy of Wicked Thoughts:

Two nuns out walking

Two nuns went out of the convent to sell cookies. One of them is known as Sister Mathematical (SM) and the other one is known as Sister Logical (SL). It is getting dark and they are still far away from the convent.

SL: Have you noticed that a man has been following us for the past half-hour?

SM: Yes, I wonder what be wants.

SL: It's logical. He wants to rape us.

SM: Oh, no! At this rate he will reach us in 15 minutes at the most. What can we do?

SL: The only logical thing to do of course is that we have to start walking faster.

SM: It is not working.

SL: Of course it is not working. The man did the only obvious thing to do. He started to walk faster too.

SM: So, what shall we do? At this rate he will reach us in one minute.

SL: The only logical thing we can do is split. You go that way and I'll go this way. He cannot follow both of us.

So the man decided to go after Sister Logical and Sister Mathematical arrives at the convent and is worried because Sister Logical has not yet arrived. Finally, Sister Logical arrives.

SM: Sister Logical. Thank Cod you are here. Tell us what happened.

SL: The only logical thing happened. The man could not follow both of us, so he followed me.

SM: So, what happened? Please tell us.

SL: The only logical thing to happen. I started to run as fast as I could.

SM: So what happened?

SL: The only logical thing to happen. The man also started to run as fast as he could.

SM: And what else?

SL: The only logical thing to happen. He reached me.

SM: Oh, no! What did you do then?

SL: The only logical thing to do. I lifted my habit up.

SM: Oh, Sister. What did the man do?

SL: The only logical thing to do. He pulled down his pants.

SM: Oh, no! What happened then?

SL: Isn't it logical, Sister? A nun with her habit up can run faster than a man with his pants down.

And you thought this was a dirty joke...

As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!

I've always wanted an excuse to say that. Pity it took this to make it possible.

You get what you pay for

It looks like NARAL and Planned Parenthood are getting their money's worth out of Christine Gregoire. She's bullied the Washington State Pharmacy Board into surrendering their consciences to the abortion industry.

Good NARAL whore. Gooo-oo-oood whore.

H/T to Carl Ballard.

Happy birthday, dad!

My dad would have been 63 today, if he hadn't died twelve years ago. And I think it's fitting that Kinky Friedman's gubernatorial campaign should be the talk of the WaPo on his birthday. My dad introduced me to the Texas Jewboys back in the early 80s, and later to the Kinkster's books. He was a big Kinky fan, and I wish he could have lived to see this.

It's a Dead sort of day

The kids picked me up a copy of A Long Strange Trip: The Inside History of the Grateful Dead at the library the other day, and I've been wallowing in music I hadn't heard for a while. The Internet Archive has a huge collection of Dead shows available for download, and I've found some great ones, including a few I was actually present at.

I even fit a few of these (with gratitude to The Grateful Page):

YOU KNOW YOU'RE A DEADHEAD WHEN...
1. You spend more money on blank tapes than you do on rent.
2. None of your tapes have names on them, just venues and dates.
3. Everyone is your brother or sister.
4. You swear the guy walking by you at the football game just said "doses."
5. You prefix every noun with "Kind" or "ice cold."
6. You spend more money at the post office than at the gas station.
7. You still have the parking tag from NYE 1976 hanging from your rear view mirror.
8. On forms you list your occupation as "?".
9. GDTRFB, SSDD, BIODTL, FOTD, SOTM, LTGTR, and WALSTIB all mean something to you.
10. At any given moment you can compute how many days, hours, minutes and seconds it's been since Alligator has been played.
11. Someone ask you what you do for fun, and you just smile real wide.
12. The first entry on your MCI friends and family list is 415-457-6388.
13. You got #12.
14. You try to tell your Russian History professor that Marx stole the phrase "One man gathers what another one spills" from Robert Hunter.
15. You think $1.00 for a grilled cheese sandwich is pretty darn cheap.
16. You're up at 3:20 a.m. writing some stupid "You know you're a Deadhead when..."
17. Your boss notices that members of your family only become deathly ill when there happens to be a Dead show within a 1,000 mile radius.
18. Your relatives start whispering everytime you walk into the room.
19. You wake up in a cold sweat three or four times a week because you were dreaming there was a show somewhere, and you just find out and have only 12 hours to get there.
20. Whenever you walk through a parking lot you instinctively hold your right index finger in the air.
21. The compass in your car is calibrated so that it always points to the Oakland Coliseum.
22. You can install a new cylinder on a '68 VW microbus with your eyes closed.
23. You have more tie-dyes than neck ties.
24. You find it amazing that some people fill balloons with AIR.
25. You try to convince your grandmother that Aoxomoxoa is an acceptable play for a Scrabble triple word score.
26. Your dog is named Bertha.
27. Your kid is named Althea.
28. You spend New Year's Eve with your cassette deck instead of your wife.
29. Your license plate spells HEY NOW.
30. You wonder if DDN is going to have a swimsuit issue this year. (Warning: Thinking about this one may ruin your appetite.)
31. You're still waiting for that second verse of Dark Star that they started back in May of '73.
32. Your computer monitor's wallpaper is a picture of Jerry Garcia, your cursor is a Steal Your Face skull, and you sometimes swear it's leaving trails.
33. You consider :-) a new form of punctuation.
34. Left unoccupied your hand instinctively taps the beat to Not Fade Away.
35. There are still ten people shacking up in your living room from the Summer 90 tour, and you don't know any of them.
36. You consider veggie burritos gourmet.
37. Your copy of DeadBase has long since broken out of its binding and the ink is beginning to wear off the pages.
38. You try to claim gas to and from Dead shows as an income tax deduction.
39. Your stock portfolio includes 50 shares of the Haines Beefy-T division.
40. You know the ZIP code for San Rafael,CA by heart.
41. You have the postal rates memorized.
42. You know the words to Truckin' better than Bob. (O.K., this doesn't necessarily mean you're a Deadhead...)
43. You spend all morning looking for this killer Playin' jam that you think is on this tape from '72, probably the Fillmore, and you know it's a Maxwell with the label on upside down, but it doesn't have a case, and you know the tape starts with Sugaree but the last time you think you saw it, it was in '83 and it was under your friend Brian's refrigerator, or maybe it was just a filler on that Alpine Valley '89 show, which you think you probably listened to in that dude's bus on the way to Deer Creek this year, but his phone number is on the back of the ticket stub that you think you stuffed in your Soundboard copy of 7/8/78 set II, and you have NO idea where that is, so you pull out DeadBase start looking through every show since '71 that even had a Playin' but by '77 or so you forgot what you were looking for because you got wrapped up in the nice version of He's Gone where Mickey starts playing the beam with dead cat...(if this sounds like something that happens to you every day, you know you're a Deadhead.)

Dear pervert...

Warning: language alert!

A while back, my daughter was stalked by a predator online. She got suspicious and we checked into his fake identity, at which time he disappeared. We figured he had just gone after easier prey, and kept an eye out, but we figured that he probably wouldn't be back. Unfortunately, he knew enough about us that if he had wanted to, he could have come back and made trouble. Recently, somebody has been checking up on us who may be the same guy. So here's an open letter to the lowlife:

You have made a mistake, fella. I have transcripts of your conversations with my daughter. I have traced your contacts from before, and although I don't know your real name yet, I will soon. I'm willing to bet you show up in a database in your home state. I'm a journalist; I find things out for a living.

This is a small town, and folks here know each other. Strangers stick out like a whore in church. I know most of the cops in town, and if you stick your verminous foot over the county line, they will find you. I rather hope they don't, though.

You may think you're stalking a teenage girl, but what you'll actually find here is (as the poet said), "Six foot three of Satan, two hundred pounds of hell." I am large, ugly, and mean, and I am not the least bit intimidated by a coward who hides behind a fake name and stalks girls. I have a gun, and I'm a pretty good shot with it, but I have no intention of shooting you if I can avoid it.

Instead, I will simply deal with you by hand, up close and personal. And what's more, I will enjoy it. I will revel in feeling bones crack, and organs rupture, and blood vessels burst. Every groan, every cry for mercy, will be music to my ears. I will beat you, and kick you, and stomp you, until you are barely recognizable as a living thing. And I will take great pleasure in every blow. By the time they come to take you to intensive care, you'll wish with all your slimy heart that you had gone to jail instead. And when you get out, I will still be here waiting.

My daughter is very precious to me, and no slavering, skulking, pud-pulling pussyhound is going to threaten her. If you make trouble for her in any way, I promise here and now that I will make your life nasty, brutish and short.

If you still think you want to hassle her, bring it on. I'm looking forward to it.

Any questions?

Prayer request

In your prayers, please remember Michael and his family. Michael's father has been diagnosed with a particularly nasty cancer. May the Lord give Michael's dad healing if it's His good will, and if not, may He spare him pain and welcome him joyfully home when it's time.