GEORGE BRETT SHIT HIS PANTS.

All this week I'm focusing on strategies to help us deal with the cratering economic disaster.  Monday was cleavage.  Yesterday was tips on how to stay calm.  Tonight's strategy is this: count your blessings.  Instead of thinking about how you'll now have to work until age 78 before you can retire, try and concentrate on the things you're blessed with.  Take, for example... oh... I don't know... um... well, like not having a huge "double tapered" shit nesting in your grape smuggler (ie., underwear), like George Brett.  Honestly, I don't even know what the hell a "double tapered shit" is but it sounds like good old George has some major league fecal issues on his hands - literally.  Stay strong... and continent.

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EVERYONE STAY CALM!

In light of the impending economic doom I'm using this week's posts to calm the rising tensions and remind people of what's really important.  Yesterday was cleavage.  Today it's tips on how to stay calm.  Serenity now you Bitches!  The end is extremely fucking nigh!  Uh... er... I mean, everything is going to be just fine.  For fuck's sake.  

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CLEAVAGE IS OUR FRIEND.

I'm tired of watching my retirement account piss it's way to zero and hear politicians blast each other about how ass-tastic the other guy is.  So tonight I'm going back to basics, and one of those basics is cleavage.  Yup.  Cleavage proves God loves us and wants us to be happy.  So here are five pretty nifty cleavages-es (I'm not sure what the plural of cleavage is so blow me).

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Taken on a trip to Wildwood, NJ.  In this photo she's asking me for the sand shovel and a cigarette.  What a scamp!

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This was the woman who sold me my spoon warmers.  I still don't know what the Christ I'm supposed to do with them but I have masturbated in front of them a few times.

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Another one of my old girlfriends.  Megan started to get a little clingy so I had to give her the It's-not-me-it's-you speech.  She was pretty upset.  Poor kid.

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Taken just before she and I met "the family."  Let me just say I was caught a little off guard by the insanity.

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I'm not 100% sure who this woman was but I bought her a new car.

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That's all for now you nut jobs.  May the rest of your week be filled with tits and fortune!

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ECONOMIC PROBLEMS SOLVED.

The economy is rapidly heading down the shitter.  One reason is that other countries no longer need to use US dollars to buy oil (up until 2000 countries needed our money to buy oil, but that's changing).  The other is that letting the market (i.e., Wall Street) regulate itself without any oversight whatsoever is like telling a fat kid to watch your box of fudge sickles until you get back.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  So, this Friday, I'm air-dropping my man Bob here into the Presidential debates.  The Democrats, Republicans, and prick-ey Wall Street CEO's are on notice: Bob is up your ass now Bitches.

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FRIDAY'S ... uh... SATURDAY'S BABE, BEER, AND A TUNE.

Ahoy there Bitches!  Heh... sorry about missing the post yesterday.  My CIA informant contacted me about a mission to the embassy in Green Island... and... well... uh... let's just say it was called "Operation Dildo."  Enough said on that.  But a babe, beer, and tune one day late is better than no babe, beer, or tune at all.  So let's get on with it.

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Katia Corriveau.  She's an ex-playmate who is originally from Canada, which means she probably has a sexy accent... and better health care than you.  She likes middle aged guys with hair growing out of their ears who have mediocre senses of humor... well, maybe not.  But why do we have to ruin the fantasy?  Oh, and she's all natural.  No silicone or botox for this kanook.  If you don't believe me, take a closer look here.

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In keeping with the Canadian theme, tonight's beer is Labatt Blue.  I didn't really go looking for this malty wench but she kind of forced herself on me.  After extensive sampling I feel confident I have an accurate review: mediocre.  It tastes like a plain old beer.  No great surprises but no great disappointments either.  It's a fucking beer.  Beer Advocate rates it a C- ... "not worthy."  Yeah, not when there are a million other homeless beers who just want someone to take them home and love them.

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DoubleDrive is a band from Atlanta.  They won some dumb local awards and went on to play with some nifty bigger bands like Queensryche and Sevendust.  As you can see from the picture they have their disaffected rock look down pat.  Too bad they've already broken up.  Their song, "Imprint", didn't really blow my nads completely back.  But it's catchy.  And I like catchy shit so...

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Ok you silly fucks... time for bed.  I know you'll be up early for mass tomorrow.  Remember, you can go up for seconds in the wine line.  Trust me.  It's a proven theory. 

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JIMI HENDRIX IS DEAD.

Kind of a sad day today.  September 18th, 1970 is the day Jimi Hendrix died.  He was found dead in a London flat after having taken a bunch of sleeping pills with red wine; and proceeded to choke on his own vomit.  I guess the moral of the story is that sleeping on your side might be a good idea. I mean - Criminey!  Look at me!  I'm a world-class kazoo-ist but I can handle my high... except for that time I woke up on a strange house boat missing one sock, bacon grease slathered all over my nipples, and a bunch of confetti jammed between my ass cheeks.  But that was just one time.  And no more mixing Robitussin and Jim Beam for me.  No sir.  Lesson learned.

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Anyway, here's probably the best Jimi tune in the whole wide wide world of sports.  Stay strong.

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UHHH... GUESS WHAT?

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