Monday, May 29, 2006

Mornin' Daddy!

Not to adulterate our little B'log with charming anecdotes, and pictures, of Kids, but...
The other morning my precious little Froggy, my second born dear girl-child, came into my room for my usual wake up call. I was still pretty groggy (nee asleep), and she was characteristically perky. She was berating me with the usual barrage of questions and comments, and I was answering her with usual array of grunts and mumbles. I'm not sure what we actually talked about exactly, but, as we lay snuggling up in bed, nose to nose, my little princess made the following observations, which I must grudgingly admit are true:
1. I have a lot of hair growing out of my ears and nose
2. I have really big pores on my face
3. My teeth are yellow
4. My hair is getting white
5, My bushy sideburns make me loo0k like Elvis
6. My eyebrows are really bushy
I think there might have been more, but alas, it was time for me to send her off to get ready for school. Aaah, it's great to be a Dad.
BFC

Ode to a Glass of Pilsner Urquell


Unequivical and Bold
Effervescent Liquid Gold
Salve for Tastebud and for Soul

Open up Your Shiny Top
Tiny Bubbles they do Pop
You're the Reason God Made Hops

So Sublime and Bittersweet
Good with Fish or Good with Meat
Sometimes Drink you with Bare-Feet

You're the Pride of Pilzn Czech
Drink you out on my Back Deck
Cash or Credit or with Check

Amber as the Autumn Sun
So sad when the Glass is Done
But in my Fridge, another one!

Monday, May 22, 2006

You May be a Sufferin' Bastard

If you are wondering if you are old and lame enough to enjoy this B'log, take the following short test your normative generational pop culture aptitiude alignment.

Q.1 "Nattering Nabobs of Negativism", refers to:
A. a Post-Punk Rock band of the late 80's
B. Democrats, according to Rush Limbaugh
C. a quote from Spiro T. Agnew, former illustrious Vice-President to Tricky Dick Nixon

Q.2 Witchipoo is the Protagonist from which of the following:
A. H.R. Pufinstuf
B. HMS Pinafore
C. Mutiny on the Hms Bounty

Q.3 Which of the following is not, or ever was, member of the Rolling Stones:
A. Keith
B. Ringo
C. Justin
D. Enrice
E. Dick Dastardly

Q.4 Captain Caveman was a spin-off from what beloved TV series:
A. Scooby-Doo
B. All in the Family
C. Dharma and Greg
D. The Electric Company
E. Wacky Racers

Q.5 Your earliest and most painful Red Sox memory is:
A. Johnny Pesky holding the ball
B. Tony Conigliaro's beanballed fractured skull
C. The Big Red Machine '75
D. Bucky F***in' Dent '78
E. Mookie F****in' Wilson '86
F. Aaron F***in' Boone '03
G. 'man, I still can't believe they let Damon go to the Yankees'

Q.6 Finish the following: "Chinese, Japanese, Dirty Knees,....
A. ... I know you are, but what am I"?
B. ...Talk to the hand"
C. ...Look at these"
D. ...Have you seen THESE"

Q7 You remember exactly where you were when you found out:
A. JFK was shot
B. JR Ewing was shot
C. Kurt Cobain was shot
D. Tupac was shot
E. ...how about Lincoln,...anybody?

Q.8 Which of the following bands derive their name from a Dickens novel:
A. Lothar and the Hand People
B. Uriah Heep
C. Wham
D. Black-Eyed Peas

Q.9 The Theme song for your Senior Prom was:
A. Color my World
B. Cain't Touch This
C. Dream On
D. Stacy's Mom has Got it Goin' on

Q.10 "Kung-Fu Grip" refers to what:
A. a Game-Boy induced cramping of the forearms
B. 1974 Porno Movie starring Ron Jeremy
C. 'Hand-Action' feature of certain G.I. Joe Action Figures
D. Hong Kong Flu


If you answered 'YES' to any of these questions, you may be a Sufferin' Bastard. Welcome in Brether'n.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Hudson's Annual Barn-Jam: a review

Big Bruce savours a sip of Jack Daniels










Host Tom-Cat Hudson and Dave LaStrange Kareoke-King Ronny, Professor Boylan,
contemplate the virtues of Jameson's and BFC, who is seriously reconsidering
that last Jello-Shot.


Hudson Party (sung to the tune of Ricky Nelson's Garden Party)

I went to a Hudson Party, the other night with some old friends,
to have some drinks and play guitar, maybe catch a little twing,
When I got to the Hudson party, out stepped Dave LaStrange,
he had a guitar in his one hand and in the other had a bottle of James

But it's alright now, I learned my lesson hard,
you can crash out in the barn or you can sleep out in the yard

There was a Strange Brew brewin', with Laura on the Mic,
playing all the funkey songs that everybody liked,
Saw Big Bruce and Buddy Hudson out in the Sparkin' Lot,
then Jean and Jay passed my way and poured me a double-shot

But it's alright now, I learned my lesson hard,
You can sleep out on the couch, or you can stretch out in your car

So I put on my ol' guitar, cuz' that's the reason I came,
played 'em all the old songs, that anybody named,
Played some old Hillbilly, played some funky Blues,
But when I mentioned Status Quo, I knew I was bound to lose

But it's alright now, learned my lesson well,
if you want to play 'Pictures of Matchstick Men', y'gonna have play it y'self

The sun was nearly coming up, figured it was time to go,
then Tom-Cat poured me another shot that put me to the floor,
If you go to a Hudson Party, I wish you a lot of luck,
but you better bring your sleeping bag, you'll probably wind up sleepin' in your truck

But it's alright now, I learnt my lesson well,
You can sleep upstairs with the dogs, or you can crash out with Ol' Tom
La in da da da, la in da da da, somethin' somethin' da da

I got invited to this years annual Hudson Barn Jam and, let me tell you, this reporter was very exited. I got my gear, loaded it into my brandy-new Saturn and hit the highway. I had the MC5 kicking out the jams and life was good. I arrived promptly at 7 and commenced to swillin'. Big Bruce got the evening started by shooting of his homemade cannon, and before long the usual line of suspects started arriving. The music started and, as usual it was top-shelf. Speaking of top-shelf, the Jack Daniels Select Buddy Hudson brought was most savory, as was the selection of well-timed late night snacks provided by Hostess Laura Hudson. Somewhere on into the night, whether it was from the Jello Shots or from the second-hand smoke from the Sparkin' Lot, things got a little 'Jimi Hendrixy', and I ended up sleeping with Appolo and Luna on the Dog-Bed. I awoke a couple of hours later, about breakfast, to see Ol' Tom, Dave and Ronny talking Geo politics out in the barn, still alive and kicking. But it was off to work for me, with fond memories, albeit vague ones, and very much looking forward to the next Hudson event.

BFC out!

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

It's the story.... of a man named Jesus...


In the news this week: protestors urge a boycott of the movie the DaVinci Code, and with good reason. The film, which stars Tom Hank’s hair, is based upon the best-selling book by Dan Brown about the secret conspiracy to hide the facts of Jesus’ supposed marriage to Mary Magdalene.
It’s going to get worse before it gets better, of course. In production now, is the sequel, which actually gives us the lowdown about the marriage itself. You want something to protest? Check out the proposed story for DaVinci Code II: The Jesus Bunch.
We start off with a big tic-tac-toe board, with Jesus in the top center square, Mary Magdelene on the bottom, the other squares occupied by Peter and Greg and Marica and Judas. In the center: their housekeeper, Alice.

It’s the story
Of a man named Jesus
Who was preaching to twelve apostolic boys
All of them had hair of gold
Like their father
The youngest one in goys!

Cut to: a kitchen, with Alice making macaroni and cheese on the big range. Mary Magdalene, at her side, is listening to the Beatles on the oldies station, “The Ballad of John and Yoko:”

Christ you know it ain’t easy!
You know how hard it can be!
The way things are gooooing—

The door opens, and in comes the Messiah, briefcase in hand.
“Hi honey! I’m home!”
“Hi pumpkin!” says Mary.
“Hi, Mr. C,” says Alice.
Mary Magdelene him a little peck on the cheek. “How was work?”
“Oh you know,” says Jesus, discouraged. “Another day, another shekel.”
“The devil again?”
Jesus sighs. “You know what he’s started now? A line of chocolate donut franchises!”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” says Mary Magdelene. “First Starbucks, now this.”
“Go on, Mr. C,” says Alice. “Take your shoes off. You want me to anoint your feet?”
“Oh, I’m all right. You know me. I always bounce back!” He pours himself a glass of water from a pitcher. “You want some wine?”
“Sure pumpkin.”
Jesus pours some water into another glass, waves his hand over the stemware, hands a goblet to Mary Magadelene.
“Mm,” says the Magdelene. “What’s this, Merlot?”
“Shiraz,” says the Lord. “Is it too peppery?”
“No, it’s great.”
“Hi Daddy!” cry the children, who come running into the room, their arms outstretched.
“Hi Peter! Hi Marcia!” said Jesus. “Hi Judas!”
The lord’s children hug His knees. “You guys done your homework?”
Peter looks a little sheepish. “I was hoping you could help me.”
“Now now,” says Jesus. “We talked about this.”
“But it’s algebra,” said Peter. “I hate it!”
“I don’t see why you couldn’t just bless the math homework,” said Mary Magdalene. “Just this once.
“Jesus,” whines Judas, “I want a GameBoy?”
“Let’s see how your grades are, young man, then we’ll talk about a GameBoy.”
“But Marica has a GameBoy!”
“Marcia got straight A’s! Marcia earned a GameBoy!”
“Marcia Marcia Marcia!” shouts Judas.
“You keep your voice down.”
“But she’s such a dufus!” he says, trying to kiss her.
“Don’t start with the kissing,” says Mary Magdelene.
“You don’t say dufus in this house, young man, and I mean it.”
“Darn it,” says Alice. “I didn’t make enough dinner! There’s not going to be enough to feed the multitude!”
“Oh for Pete’s sakes,” says the Lord. “I’ll handle it. You get the plates.”
Somehow the whole family is fed with the single pot of macaroni and cheese. Marcia pushes her dinner around with a fork. “Eeeww! What is this stuff?”
“Try it, honey,” says Jesus. “You’d be surprised.”
Marcia takes a bite. “Wow!” she says. “It tastes like chocolate frosted doughnuts!”
Mary Magdalene looks at her husband reproachfully. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” she says. “You’re wrong.”
From the stereo comes the sound of the Youngbloods on the oldies station.

Come on people now,
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another, right now.

“I’m sorry I called him a dufus,” says Judas.
“I forgive you,” says Jesus.
The Lord sits back, unbuttons the top button on his pants, and sighs, happily. “I always liked this song,” he says.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

UP IN THE HIZZLE

'Up in the Hizzle' is a collaberation between
beloved childrens' author Theodore Geisel
and famed 'Gangsta' rapper Snoop Dogg.
Pop, Cap
Pop a Cap
Pop a Cap in the N****'s Ass
Hizzle, Dizzle
Down wit' Snizzle
Bitches in the Hot-Tub, ain't no Shizzle
Pimp, Gimp
Pimp is Gimp
Shot 'im in the Leg, now the N****'s Got a Limp
Gin, Juice
Gin and Juice
Drink me a Forty, now I'm a Moosey Goose
Ho', Go
That Ho's gotta Go
Been Holdin' out My Money, now that's Fo'sho'
(break it down,now)
1-2-3 and to the 4
Snoop Doggy Dogg and Dr. Seuss is at the door
Ready to make an entrance, so back on up
cuz' you know it's like 'Up on Pup'
Gimmethemicrophone first so I can bust like a Bubble
Compton and Seussland together, now you know you in trouble
Ain't Nothing but a G-Thang Baybay
Two Loc'd out N****s who's Craaazay(actually, one crazy n****a and one effete intelectual)
Def-Jams is the label that pays me
'Fox in Sox' make my tongue get lazy
Ain't no Shizzle, our Rhyme is Done
Thank you for a Lot of Fun

Monday, May 15, 2006

Weekly Celebrity Haiku Vol.#57


I'll Tumble for Ya'

Karma-Karma-Karma-Karma-Karma Chameleeeeeon

Oooooh, where's my Crackpipe

-Boy George*




* Okay, Boy George is more a Has-been than a celebrity, but you get the point.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Salad Days Vol.#89: Easy Livin'



It was the Fall/ Winter of 1984. Uncle Frank and I had just purchased the cottages on the lake that would eventually be turned into the palaces which we all grew to know and love on the vast compound we now call East Mosquitoville. It was the best of times; it was the best of times. I had just saved up $6000, and under Frank's judicious tutoring had aquired enough construction acumen to make my little lakeside bungalow into something Bob Vilas would surely envy.

The plan was this: Frank and I would take a voluntary lay-off from ZVI Construction. We would collect unemployment and 'work' in the woods. We would keep busy working on the camps with the money we had saved and Voila!...

Easier said than done. Without the insufferable scrutiny of a supervisor on our tails, without the structure of a 9 to 5 routine, and without a real care in the world, we soon slipped into a casual, comfortable,'not gettin' a God-Damned thing done' modus operandus. It went something like this: I would get up about 8:30 am, put on some coffee, catch a re-run of Magnum P.I., then head down to Frank's. He was, at that point, in a full head of steam about some project he was going to finish, but was currently in the process of 'planning out'. I would soon join him, usually accompanied by one or more of my esteemed cronies, who had crashed at my swingin' bachelor pad, and then the fun began.

Some days, we actually got some work done (we COULD, when inspired, work effectively and determinedly), but generally it didn't last long. Usually, it was the prognosticating and brainstorming about shit we were going to do, or should do, that took up most of our morning hours. Fueled by vast oceans of coffee, we soon devolved from prognosticating to general bufoonery and monkeyshines by about 11:30 am. This might involve various subjects as shooting out car windows with BB Guns, shooting ME in the ass with a BB Gun, human catapults, sunglasses for dogs, explosives made from Horseshit, or the like. Frank definitely had a gift for making the infinitely ridiculous not only easily imaginable, but highly fuckin' likely.

Actually, some days we actually worked in the woods. We'd usually cut about $40 worth of Cedar logs, borrow a truck to haul it to the Mill, then promptly blow our Wad on cheap Swill- an extremely wise investment in retrospect. But, alas, most days were spent on what we used to call 'Dubbin', taking rides up North for any or no apparent reason, off on a wild goose chase in search of a 1920 Model A Jitterbug in 'Mint' condition. Or it could be Dump-Picking, or boat hunting; any ruse to go have some fun. Ponder the possiblilties! Why the Hell not? So what if my Cottage was NOT getting renovated in any hurry. So what if my $6000 cache was dwindling down, soon forcing us to scamper back out onto the 'Road', to Chicago, and work up some more scratch. So what if I had to store the Beer in my fridge, not to keep it cool, but to keep it from Fuckin' freezing, cuz my cottage was so cold! It was worth squandering every penny on cheap 'ice-cold', and to think I could have been working the whole time. Hanging with Frank was certainly an education, and I got a PhD. in the School of the Infinitely Ridiculous with a Magna cum Laude!

Bigfoot Chester's: Your Weekly Horoscope


Aries-March 21 to April 19
Your insufferable need to be right all the time is really a drag, if your friends were being honest with you. If you stuck a piece of coal 'twix the cheeks of your ass and played a game of Tetris, the result would be a diamond. Lighten up a little, will you? Oh yeah, and be on the look-out for romance on Thursday!
Taurus-April 20 to May 2
You are patient and loveable,warm-hearted and loving, placid and security loving; that's what it says here. What an enormous bore you are! Your logo is the friggin' Schlitz Malt-Liquor Bull, and that's the only interesting thing about you!
Gemini- May 2 to June 20
Your birthday falls right in the middle of Fly-Fishing season, which means eventually, you will have a birthday party, to which you will invite me, that will interrupt my fishing plans for the weekend. Guaren-fuckin-tee it!
Cancer- June 21 to July 22
You are over emotional and touchy,clinging and unable to let go. If you are a woman, you remind all men of Sharon Stone in Fatal Attraction; if you are a man, women think you are gay, and only hang out with you for that reason. Please Light!
Leo-July 23 to August 22
All I can think of when I hear Leo is that Leo Buscalia, therapist guy that was really popular a few years ago- you know the guy who just loved to hug everybody?! Now I'm annoyed; next sign please!
Virgo- August 23 to September 22
Your constant need to be meticulous and overly-critical will force one of your co-workers to swiftly kick you right in the ass, something they had been wanting to do for three years. Oh yeah, and financial opportunity will arise for you on Saturday.
Libra-September 23 to October 22
You are so indecisive you make John Kerry look like Lyndon Larouche. Make up your Fucking mind before I make it up for you...paper or plastic, paper or plastic, paper or plastic... Jeeeeesus Chriiiist!
Scorpio- October 23 to November 21
You are jealous, compulsive and obsessive. You beat me out for "Best Personality for Class of '81" in the Warrior's school yearbook! I hate you, I hate you!! (oh, wait, that was Dan Haiden, sorry).
Sagitarious- November 22 to December 21
On Wednesday, you will lose your job at the Mill, which would completely crush a Pisces, but you are so Fuckin blindly optimistic, you will take a job as a Kirby vacuum cleaner salesperson and, actually, probably make it work. Why can't you be more cynical, like me?
Capricorn- December 22 to January 20
Did you ever wonder about stuff? Like, do Vegetarians eat animal crackers, or if you put Spot Remover on your dog, will he disappear? Did you know the band Uriah Heep got its name from the protagonist in Dickens' David Copperfield? That's the kind of crap you probably think about Capricorn, aaaaalll the time!
Aquarius-January 21 to February 18
"This is the dawning of the aaaaage of Aquarius, Aquariuuuuus, Aquuuuaaaaiiuuuuus"! God, I've always hated that play. God-Damned Hippies! I can almost smell your Patchooli, Aquarius. You will buy a used Volvo this week and probably take a trip to the Organic food store for some Free-Range Corn Tortillas. Hacky-Sack anyone?
Pisces- February 19 to March 20
Pisces, old buddy, you are compassionate kind, imaginative and sensitive, above all, very creative. You will write a blog entry that people will think really sucks, but won't tell you honestly. If they do, just ignore them and rememer, you are an artistic genius, and they couldn't possibly understand that. Who's your buddy?!
Bigfoot Chester is neither a Licensed Counselor or a Registered Guide to the Stars. Questions or stinging insults can be directed to him via jack@totallyout.com. Peeeeeaaaace!

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Muddah turns 40-Something


My oldest buddy and used to be frequent contributor to this site, Marc Warren celebrates a birthday today. Well, he may not be celebrating it, but it's here nonetheless. Hey buddy, I got you the same thing I got you last year, d'ya like it? Why, oh why are we not out canoodling some rapids? It's not fair.



A pensive Marc Warren
ponders his old age

Monday, May 08, 2006

Message To The Boys

Be excited! Be very excited!

http://home.comcast.net/~alineback/05042006Rome2MessageToTheBoys.mp3

Same old rules apply ... if you hate this, there isn't enough suck in the world to adequately describe you.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

bLOG hAS mOVED


I have changee the name of the Blog because, un-fucking believable as it might seem, some other joker had what I thought was a singularly stupid idea, and called his b'log the Unemployed Philosopher's Guild. It's a pretty good sight, actually, here check it out (bastards):

Either way, Sufferin' Bastard pretty much sums it up. Same great Crap, Different name!
BFC

Thursday, May 04, 2006

On the Moon

This is a quickie: but I wanted to say that the funniest thing I have ever heard in my life on the web was found at the address below:

http://www.blogjam.com/neil_armstrong/

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

In the news this week: the problem of illegal aliens. Some of you may even have heard the new “all-Martian” version of the national anthem, which was buzzed into people’s minds on Friday using some sort of horrible Martian mental death ray.

Oh say can you—zzzzzrrrp!
By the glaxnix zoid rezza zeerp!
What so eep! Eep! Eep! Eep! we hailed
By the twilight’s last zzzrrvev-rep! Zap!

My father’s people came here from Mars—at least that’s what my mother always said—so I have to admit I take these issues rather personally. I still remember my grandmother sitting out by the pool on a summer day, retracting and extending her scary metallic antennae.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your people, Jenny,” she used to say. “Remember, Martians are just like anybody else, except we can use telepathy to make people’s minds explode.”
She was a sweet old thing. All the kids called her “Gampy,” although her real name, of course was Telecaster-Nine-Warp-ZAXXOZZ. To be fair, my Irish grandfather sometimes got tired of being married to the only woman in our neighborhood with a giant pulsating brain. “But remember Jenny,” he’d say to me. “It’s better to be married to someone with a giant pulsating brain than the opposite.”
I still wonder what he meant by this.
Martians, of course, aren’t the only aliens waiting for their shot at the American dream. You don’t hear so much about them, but the Venusians have an ancient culture as well, based on free love and communal ownership of property and worshipping the deep spirituality of nature. Oh, wait, that’s Hallowell! Well, anyway, I’m sure Venus is a very nice place as well, excepting for its atmosphere which is a constant hailstorm of deadly methane, ammonia, Top Job and Spam. You want to know what Venus is like? Think Los Angeles, without George Hamilton.
Yes, yes, I can hear Lou Dobbs saying, that’s all well and good, but once these characters get here they start demanding access to the fruits of American civilization, like, for instance, three-dollar-a-gallon gas. Is that why we’re paying taxes? So a bunch of women (as I understand Venus is populated entirely by women) with tentacles, gills, and hideous prehensile tongues can take away our jobs, our menfolk, and the national anthem?
You’ve probably heard the “Venusian” version of the national anthem by now, recorded by a chorus of horny Venusian gals and slowed down by the Internal Revenue Service to a pitch audible by humans:

Oh say can you—oh never mind
What I really want to do
Is to mmmm—pour fruit juice
On your pecs from this shoe.
Your broad stripes and bright stars
And the rest make me pine
For your big Yankee fists
On my gills, you wild swine!

The Congress has been wrestling this last week with the aliens issue, and thank god the the Republicans and Democrats have finally set their bipartisan differences aside, and are working toward a compromise solution that will benefit all Americans. Ha! Ha! Ha!
No, just kidding. What actually happened was that Senator Kennedy said that Senator Brownback was a “fundamentalist nut-job” and Senator Brownback, for his part, said that Senator Kennedy looked like a “big swole-up potato.”
Shortly after this, they started calling each other names.
It made me think, not for the first time, that maybe Mars or Venus wouldn’t be such a bad place to live sometimes, at least compared to Washington. There are worse things to breathe than Top Job, as it turns out.
In the meantime, aliens continue to cross through the radiation belt, day after day, slowly but surely becoming part of our culture, ready or not.
Who knows? Maybe one day soon we’ll elect the first president who isn’t even human. Can you imagine it, the country run by some inarticulate buffoon who can barely speak English, some crazy nut who’d divide the country, and launch wars against planets that haven’t even attacked us?
Oh what am I thinking? Something like that? Happening here? That’d be out of this world.
"Mmmm...let me think about this for a minute."

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Celebrity Haiku Vol.# 346


Anger is the Enemy

Truth is by Nature, Self-Evident

I'm Walkiiiin' Heeeere!

--Mohandus Gahndi

Monday, May 01, 2006

S.A.D.

Speaking of Acronyms Dude- We were . . . weren't we? Anyhoo . . . what's up with RADD? Used to be Rockers Against Drunk Driving . . . fine, no problem with that . . .now they've co-opted Athletes and Actors into the mix. Rock artists, Acors and Athletes against Drunk Driving . . . so is it nowRAAAAADD?

Why don't they just change it to Real Assholes against drunk driving . . . that way they can stick with RADD . . . and we'll all still know who they're talking about.

the Alien problem


In the news this week: the problem of illegal aliens. Some of you may even have heard the new “all-Martian” version of the national anthem, which was buzzed into people’s minds on Friday using some sort of horrible Martian mental death ray.

Oh say can you—zzzzzrrrp!
By the glaxnix zoid rezza zeerp!
What so eep! Eep! Eep! Eep! we hailed
By the twilight’s last zzzrrvev-rep! Zap!

My father’s people came here from Mars—at least that’s what my mother always said—so I have to admit I take these issues rather personally. I still remember my grandmother sitting out by the pool on a summer day, retracting and extending her scary metallic antennae.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your people, Jenny,” she used to say. “Remember, Martians are just like anybody else, except we can use telepathy to make people’s minds explode.”
She was a sweet old thing. All the kids called her “Gampy,” although her real name, of course was Telecaster-Nine-Warp-ZAXXOZZ. To be fair, my Irish grandfather sometimes got tired of being married to the only woman in our neighborhood with a giant pulsating brain. “But remember Jenny,” he’d say to me. “It’s better to be married to someone with a giant pulsating brain than the opposite.”
I still wonder what he meant by this.
Martians, of course, aren’t the only aliens waiting for their shot at the American dream. You don’t hear so much about them, but the Venusians have an ancient culture as well, based on free love and communal ownership of property and worshipping the deep spirituality of nature. Oh, wait, that’s Hallowell! Well, anyway, I’m sure Venus is a very nice place as well, excepting for its atmosphere which is a constant hailstorm of deadly methane, ammonia, Top Job and Spam. You want to know what Venus is like? Think Los Angeles, without George Hamilton.
Yes, yes, I can hear Lou Dobbs saying, that’s all well and good, but once these characters get here they start demanding access to the fruits of American civilization, like, for instance, three-dollar-a-gallon gas. Is that why we’re paying taxes? So a bunch of women (as I understand Venus is populated entirely by women) with tentacles, gills, and hideous prehensile tongues can take away our jobs, our menfolk, and the national anthem?
You’ve probably heard the “Venusian” version of the national anthem by now, recorded by a chorus of horny Venusian gals and slowed down by the Internal Revenue Service to a pitch audible by humans:

Oh say can you—oh never mind
What I really want to do
Is to mmmm—pour fruit juice
On your pecs from this shoe.
Your broad stripes and bright stars
And the rest make me pine
For your big Yankee fists
On my gills, you wild swine!

The Congress has been wrestling this last week with the aliens issue, and thank god the the Republicans and Democrats have finally set their bipartisan differences aside, and are working toward a compromise solution that will benefit all Americans. Ha! Ha! Ha!
No, just kidding. What actually happened was that Senator Kennedy said that Senator Brownback was a “fundamentalist nut-job” and Senator Brownback, for his part, said that Senator Kennedy looked like a “big swole-up potato.”
Shortly after this, they started calling each other names.
It made me think, not for the first time, that maybe Mars or Venus wouldn’t be such a bad place to live sometimes, at least compared to Washington. There are worse things to breathe than Top Job, as it turns out.
In the meantime, aliens continue to cross through the radiation belt, day after day, slowly but surely becoming part of our culture, ready or not.
Who knows? Maybe one day soon we’ll elect the first president who isn’t even human. Can you imagine it, the country run by some inarticulate buffoon who can barely speak English, some crazy nut who’d divide the country, and launch wars against planets that haven’t even attacked us?
Oh what am I thinking? Something like that? Happening here? That’d be out of this world.