Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
Do you think it's just a coincidence that no sooner than one of Greta
Van Susteren's missing-person "stories" gets solved (or too
boring), another pops up to take its place? Are there really so many of
these sensational cases out there, she can just pick and choose the
juiciest ones? Or, like me, do you suspect she might actually be
behind some of it?
Obviously I don't have any special insider info, this is purely
speculation, but I think she might be kidnapping people for ratings.
Well, maybe not Greta herself.... I can't really see her crouching
behind shrubbery in a ski mask, then wrestling college co-eds into a
waiting van. But I wouldn't be surprised to learn that her staff is
doing it.
What do you think about this? Could I be on to something?
-- I saw an orange boy at Sam's Club a few days ago. And I'm not
screwing around here. His skin was orange, and his hair was the same
color as his skin. What would cause such a thing? Why would a
grade-schooler go all carrot like that? People were doing double-takes,
and walking into displays. Because, you know, it's not very often you
see an orange boy.
-- My Dad is one of the funniest people I've ever known. His dry
observations are hilarious, and almost always right-on. Sitting with him
on a bench at a mall, for instance, is better than any Daily Show.
He just sits there, observes, and reacts. And I'm almost always left
gasping for air, and all hunchbacked-up with laughter.
But he doesn't tell jokes. I don't know why, but I can't remember him
ever coming home from work and giving us the latest knee-slapper he'd
heard during the day. And that's why I was so surprised when he did
exactly that, earlier this week. Here it is:
An old man was at the doctor's office for a check-up. Since he
couldn't hear very well, his wife had accompanied him. After the exam,
the doc said, "Well, everything looks good. But before you go, I'm
going to need a urine and stool sample." The old man turned to his
wife and shouted, "What did he say?!" And she answered,
"He wants you to leave your underwear."
I'm hoping Dad returns to his roots soon.
-- Check out this recent post at Phil
Hendrie's blog. What do you think are the worst big cities in America? I
can't really contribute much to this one, because I haven't spent enough
time in any of 'em to have a valid opinion. I've only lived in one
actual Big City (in California we lived way out in the suburbs, with the
tarantulas and minivans), and that was Atlanta. And I loved it, for the
most part. ....Phil also lived in Atlanta, at the same time I did, and
you'll note that he doesn't include it on his shit list.
Any opinions on
this? Use the comments link below.
-- And speaking of Phil Hendrie.... Here's a quote from a character in
one of his recent podcasts: "What in the name of Christ carrying
his own cross up the hill without so much as a refrigerator dolly are
you talking about?!" I love that man.
-- And to close out the category, you can download a great old Hendrie
clip from 2000, right
here. It's the play by play of the Los Angeles
Dodgers vs. People Who Cry In Public.
-- Finally, another question for ya.... Have you ever visited a
psychic? And if so, what did they tell you?
The only time I ever had an encounter with a so-called psychic was at
Venice Beach in California. Here he is, in fact. He was a very surly
man, apparently not impressed with the ten-dollar "donation" I
gave him.
He told me I could potentially have five kids, and that
I could potentially live a long and healthy life. I asked him
about all that "potentially" crapola, and he said people have
free will, and can easily alter the course of their lives.
Um, OK. But couldn't I potentially have hundreds of kids? Maybe
thousands? You know, under the right circumstances? Possibly if there
was some sort of production line in operation? What did he mean, five? I
just don't know.
What I do know, is the dude wasn't very specific with any of his
"predictions," and it was ten dollars straight down the ol'
poop-catcher.
Have you ever had an encounter with a palm reader or Tarot
card person, or any of that stuff? What about the ones who read the
bumps on your head? Or the voodoo queens in New Orleans? Tell us about
it, won't you?
--
Do you think it's just a coincidence that no sooner than one of Greta
Van Susteren's missing-person "stories" gets solved (or too
boring), another pops up to take its place? Are there really so many of
these sensational cases out there, she can just pick and choose the
juiciest ones? Or, like me, do you suspect she might actually be
behind some of it?
