tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113438262011-04-21T15:04:27.070-05:00Shit! Woke Up AgainCranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comBlogger671100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110719736378815612008-01-10T12:15:00.000-06:002008-01-10T09:39:23.032-06:00

Gotta die of somethin'...What are you shootin' for?

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-91904450265352432452008-01-10T09:39:00.000-06:002008-01-10T18:30:57.159-06:00

I spent a total of $85.49 on gasoline in 2007. I ride my bicycles and walk nearly everywhere I go, with one large grocery haul per month in my 1986 Mazda 323. My 1988 Dodge pickup has racked up 20 miles total in the past twelve months. My dear Harley only got a few miles also, and I feel bad about neglecting the magnificent beast.I have been accused of left-leaning, socially-minded, and

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1166910429823894362006-12-25T00:01:00.000-06:002006-12-24T21:55:51.760-06:00

My conversations are always interesting. To me. That’s all that matters. If the target of my conversation isn’t interested, I don’t consider that a lack of conversational prowess on my part. Some people just aren’t wired to appreciate a fine wine. Or a good fart. And I can’t beat myself up over the inadequacies of others.Xmas is a real icebreaker for the conversational aficionado like me. It’s

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1120488278029831692006-07-04T09:39:00.000-05:002006-07-04T15:04:01.240-05:00

Yooze people spend hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office to watch crappy remakes from the uncreative, untalented Hollywood money-mongers. Here's a freebie from July 2005. Pretend it's new. Make your own damn popcorn."We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1146758668808174202006-05-04T10:54:00.000-05:002006-05-04T11:10:16.443-05:00

Today I received my annual greeting from my health insurance carrier, Bob’s Insurance and Live Bait Emporium. Bob hasn’t heard a peep from me this past year, although he expresses no remorse over that fact. Bob has lots of correspondents, and he’s happy that I don’t burden him with inconsequential inquiries, claims and invoices.Bob has offered to extend my insurance against doctors for yet

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1145924621304643892006-04-24T19:17:00.000-05:002006-04-24T19:23:41.323-05:00

I eat frozen pizza every day. I may have mentioned that in a previous essay. I don’t remember. I just write this shit. I don’t read it. Why add to the tedium?Jack’s Supreme. Two bucks. Loaded with sodium. A pizza a day keeps the doctor away. Because you leapfrog the doctor and go directly to the coroner. The waiting room is cold, but you don’t really feel inconvenienced.Sue is my family coroner.

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1142110433474821242006-03-11T14:49:00.000-06:002006-03-11T14:53:53.490-06:00

I was driving to the neighborhood grocery store the other morning. It was one of those crisp, clear February days that floats a cartoon bubble of steam with your every exhalation. I passed a group of youngsters waiting for the school bus, all bundled up in their winter shorts and t-shirts, their Pop Tart and Mountain Dew-fueled brains eager for another four-hour crack at academia, and I couldn’t

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1141060981462884272006-02-27T11:11:00.000-06:002006-02-27T20:51:40.413-06:00

I am not a racist. I just play one on Sunday afternoons at the Young Men’s Christian Association.Twice in the past three weeks, I have been accosted by black youths in the locker room of my local Y.I’ll wait until the deafening roar of gasps subsides. Did he just say that? He’d better be careful where he’s going with this! Why didn’t he just say he had a confrontation with youths? Doesn’t he know

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1135534516783842782005-12-25T12:09:00.000-06:002005-12-25T12:15:16.796-06:00

About fifty years ago, a scary looking guy in a flowing black robe threw some holy water in my face and gave me the gift of eternal life. I re-gifted it. Is that considered gauche? I didn’t want it, I didn’t use it, and I couldn’t see any point in wasting it. Not when there are so many needy people pining for it. Like the people who have adopted the flush-faced glow that is all the fashion rage

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1134615692176123852005-12-14T20:52:00.000-06:002005-12-15T09:15:26.250-06:00

I have an uncanny ability to step in shit. Figuratively speaking. I occasionally step in real shit, too, but I don’t find that nearly as bothersome as some people do.Even if there is no shit in my path, I can instantly conjure a steaming pile and step dead square into the middle of it. Figuratively speaking. When figurative shit becomes the gold standard, I will scrape my shoes at the teller

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1128473823121368492005-10-04T19:46:00.000-05:002005-12-15T09:22:52.813-06:00

Ken has the near-perfect marriage.Not because of the honesty, compassion, trust, understanding, communication, blah blah blah blah that make for poetic rhetoric during the exchange of vows, leaving grandma and all of the future ex-in-laws dabbing at tear-swollen eyes. That crap is good for entertainment purposes and it provides filler for the style show masquerading as a wedding. But it

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1127090735612163292005-09-18T19:33:00.000-05:002005-09-18T20:38:14.833-05:00

I can’t do anything right. This weekend’s events have signaled yet another resounding failure etched into my permanent record.I have been satisfied with, and even striven for, mediocrity in nearly every facet of my miserable life, but there is one task that I have attacked with a vengeance. I have poured every ounce of my energy into becoming an A-1 colossal asshole of immeasurable magnitude. But

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1126223010011719252005-09-08T18:35:00.000-05:002005-09-08T18:43:30.020-05:00

I hadn’t seen her in a couple of months, but I crossed paths with her while exiting the neighborhood grocery store. Both of her."Whaddya think?" She threw her shoulders back and thrust ‘em at me. Big, honkin’, fake tits.The infestation of these disfigurements in my town has reached epidemic proportions. Or should I say epidemic disproportion? What are the criteria for selecting the gauge of this

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1125100622522111012005-08-26T18:49:00.000-05:002005-12-15T09:18:58.333-06:00

I was sprawled out on the mat at the Y, stretching my aged muscles in preparation for my morning run, when she walked in and greeted me by name. My autopilot was already engaged, so I offered the standard-issue "How ya doin’?""I’m tired."Not "tired" as in having just completed a strenuous physical workout. She had just walked in the door and checked the kids into the daycare center. This was "

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1123270836158141742005-08-05T14:34:00.000-05:002005-08-05T14:40:36.166-05:00

"That was funny what you said, about David being a hypnotist."The words rocked me like a clap of thunder. My jolt of adrenaline had nothing to do with the subject matter of my comment about David. David was her father-in-law and, after having met him weeks earlier, I cracked to her that he missed his calling because, after listening to him drone on and on, I quit smoking even though I hadn’t

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1122674356086820432005-07-29T16:54:00.000-05:002005-07-29T16:59:16.096-05:00

Periodically, I conduct an audit of my flaws. One of those flaws is that I’m a CPA, and I have to keep a general ledger on everything. Including my flaws. For each of the flaws present on my general ledger of flaws, I have a subsidiary ledger that tracks the nature and extent of the flaw. Don’t be alarmed. This isn’t part of some self-help program that enlightens one to one’s own flaws and

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1122586992542431202005-07-28T16:38:00.000-05:002005-07-28T16:43:12.550-05:00

I’m sportin’ a new look this summer that is all the rage in my social circle. My clique, my club, and my peer group consist of a party of one. I’m it. And we say gaunt is in.It wasn’t by design. Perhaps it’s the hot, humid summer we’ve been enjoying in these here parts. Or maybe I finally have that cancer that refuses treatment. Or early onset of Alzheimer’s, and I’m forgetting to eat. I don’t

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1121824536573154632005-07-19T20:49:00.000-05:002005-07-20T06:57:28.170-05:00

I recently stumbled across the historical life expectancy tables published by the National Center for Health Statistics. The life expectancy for a white male born in 1901 was 49 years. By 2002, a newborn white male’s life expectancy had increased to 77 years. And for each year the kid survives beyond birth, additional expectations are tacked on the back end. Is that fair? Even convicted felons

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1121021806893425452005-07-10T13:48:00.000-05:002005-07-10T18:12:49.270-05:00

The Associated Press reports that the government has ordered impotence drug warning labels to indicate that some users have developed a form of blindness known as non-arteric anterior ischemic optic neuropathy (NAION). NAION manifests itself as sudden vision loss when blood flow to the optic nerve is blocked, and is considered one of the most common causes of sudden blindness in older people.

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1119645586987766692005-06-24T15:31:00.000-05:002005-06-24T18:40:44.026-05:00

I’ve been indisposed for a few days. A buddy of mine has a landscaping business, and he asked me to help him out with a backlog of work so he can get away on vacation in a couple of weeks. I agreed. Big mistake. Never, ever do anyone a favor at any time for any reason. It will bite you in the ass every time. But that’s another saga. I did get a couple of good tales out of this hellacious

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1118878810960841212005-06-15T18:35:00.000-05:002005-06-15T18:40:10.966-05:00

Among my wives and their husbands, the "’til death do us part" oath has been recited eleven times. None of us is dead, but we are all arthritic from excessive finger-crossing. That’s OK, though, because I think we have enough participants to form a trade group for purchases of health insurance and for volume discounts at Walgreen’s.I am effectively a member of a commune. In the psychedelic 60s,

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1118502739579960492005-06-11T09:59:00.000-05:002005-06-11T10:12:19.586-05:00

I live in a one-newspaper town. The Gannett newspaper conglomerate chooses to publish in one-newspaper markets, thereby precluding any need to compete for advertising dollars or "scoops." Gannett can publish the news it sees fit to publish and it can publish anything it deems to be news.The November 7, 2004 headline in my Daily Gannett read "Philanthropist of the Year Feted at Awards Banquet." Of

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1118361362620009482005-06-09T18:48:00.000-05:002005-06-09T19:00:04.356-05:00

I rescue bugs. My cats find them in the house, and I rescue them. It doesn’t seem like any more trouble to scoop them up and deposit them outside than it is to squash them and dump them in the garbage. There have been people in my house that I’ve wanted to squash and dump in the garbage, but the bugs are not nearly as bothersome. The bugs don’t want to be here any more than I do. It’s filthy in

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1118089198907324132005-06-06T15:12:00.000-05:002005-06-06T19:59:02.326-05:00

Summer is bearing down upon us, and with it comes the proliferation of street festivals in celebration of the rich ethnic heritages of the proud Hyphenated-Americans. Downtowns will be barricaded, tents will billow above the asphalt and the heavy summer air will explode with aromas of old country cooking.Swarthy Italian-American teens adorned in wife-beater tees and gold chains will communicate

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1117661098374061372005-06-01T16:18:00.000-05:002005-06-01T16:24:58.386-05:00

I’ve written before about my miraculously good health, and the resultant risk I bear of living way too long. It’s already been way too long. I’m running out of shit to do. Hell, I’ve done some stuff twice.I was gazing at the contents of the vial sitting atop my mantle, and realized that I have endured only two semi-surgical procedures in my lifetime. Like I said, I’ve done some stuff twice. Both

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1117228438578798702005-05-27T16:07:00.000-05:002005-05-27T16:13:58.593-05:00

Having left the practice of public accounting over five years ago, I now enjoy a reputation as the CPA that freely dispenses tax advice, no charge, to all comers. After all, since I amassed my fortune and retired young, I should be willing to offer myself up as a public knowledge resource to any schmuck who taps me on the shoulder. Why pay a competent, working CPA a couple of bucks an hour when

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1117059068730336102005-05-25T17:06:00.000-05:002005-05-26T13:18:34.496-05:00

Monday was a good day.Four more carcasses in the ground. Four fewer people to flip off in traffic. Four fewer Early-Bird Specials. Four fewer Social Security checks draining the coffers. More oxygen for the rest of us.And what a beautiful day for body disposal duty. Sunshine. Seventy degrees. I shed my shirt and started loading the first vault of the day. The vault is a one-ton-plus concrete box

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1116982928408776332005-05-24T19:57:00.000-05:002005-05-25T06:30:08.076-05:00

"Those people shouldn’t be allowed to have children."The long-awaited social-engineering version of Ronny’s trickle-down theory had arrived. And it chose, as it’s destination gate, a boutique-filled strip mall near me. It’s only a matter of time before my friendly Ace Hardware man is cast aside to make room for yet another purveyor of fine fashion.Rich people have all the good ideas. They always

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1116458633998948532005-05-18T18:19:00.000-05:002005-05-18T19:04:45.213-05:00

Graduation season is upon us. Mortarboard manufacturers rejoice and ribbon-wrapped receipts are issued. Countless fresh-faced students are jettisoned into the world, poised to parlay their intellectual property into fame and fortune. Deans, principals, and hired-gun circuit speakers deliver stirring messages to stoke fire in the bellies of America’s youth.Dear graduates, those messages are but

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1116271768823779612005-05-16T14:21:00.000-05:002005-05-16T18:21:47.276-05:00

Steve had the dream job.Steve was a member of the crew of cleaning gnomes that visited my accounting office every night, excavating the waste left by about 50 CPAs who spent the day spilling coffee on the carpeting and piss on the linoleum. The other CPAs in the office never met the cleaning crew that cleaned up their messes, but I met Steve as the result of deftly morphing my work schedule over

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1116030656601165402005-05-13T19:25:00.000-05:002005-05-17T14:24:12.186-05:00

There are only two things worse than golf: golfers and golf jokes. I was cornered at the gym yesterday by a package deal of the two worse things: a golfer telling golf jokes. As he yammered on, I drifted into one of those B-movie dream sequences and fondly recalled the now-interred Wonder Bread days of my previous life; specifically, the day I conquered the Sport of Kings.I have played golf once

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1115950774036604242005-05-12T21:15:00.000-05:002005-05-12T21:31:08.613-05:00

I actually watched Dennis Miller’s monologue tonight. Now that his ill-fated show, "Meet The Puss," has been cancelled, I want to watch him try to squirm his way back into the good graces of the fan base he shat upon to become the poster boy for Benedict Arnold’s Lap Dog Society. He came close to making a joke about your President tonight, but the microchip implanted in his brain delivered a

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1115857778881880282005-05-11T19:13:00.000-05:002005-05-11T19:29:38.913-05:00

Look at me, lady.What is it that you don’t get?I haven’t received a postmarked party invitation since I was in the sixth grade. Po’ white trash don’t grace no fuckin’ guest lists. My social circle is a dot. How did I compromise the integrity of your Rolodex?We have met. We have spoken. I know that you know that I don’t shave, I bathe when I itch, and four-letter words are the parentheses around

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1115408026885630802005-05-06T14:27:00.000-05:002005-05-08T07:32:09.366-05:00

Step away from your computer monitor and shield the ears of your young ones. This could be a messy tantrum.I just received the annual renewal notice from my health insurance carrier, Bob’s Insurance and Live Bait Emporium. Bob was made aware of my existence 12 times this past year, when he electronically zapped into my checking account in the middle of the night and removed my premium payment. He

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1115088178710968162005-05-02T21:37:00.000-05:002005-05-03T06:43:28.986-05:00

Illinois House Resolution 0186, April 2005:"WHEREAS, In 1999, more than 3,400 pupils between five and 16 years of age, inclusive, sought treatment in hospital emergency rooms for injuries related to backpacks or book bags according to the United States Consumer Product Safety Commission; therefore be it RESOLVED, BY THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE NINETY-FOURTH GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF THE STATE

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1114874660096774412005-04-30T10:20:00.000-05:002005-04-30T10:24:20.096-05:00

Jennifer Wilbanks, Georgia Peach and Bride-At-Large, is headed for a witch’s cauldron of trouble. Now that she has ‘fessed up to her cold-feet-induced self-kidnapping stunt, she will probably face charges for instigating the waste of taxpayer money spent on the bridehunt. That’s the least of her problems. She should plead for the safety of incarceration in the Georgia prison system, because she

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1114734005238934652005-04-28T19:12:00.000-05:002005-04-28T19:20:05.243-05:00

"How much money do I need to retire?"I’m asked this question all the time. I was a CPA in a former life. I still am, I guess. It’s a curse that can’t be reversed. But I retired my blue suits and red ties at the age of 44. Actually, I didn’t retire; I quit.The quitting plan was hatched in 1977, so I didn’t quit in a fit of "I’m not going to take it anymore" rage, although you could look at my 23

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1114562034484498092005-04-26T19:26:00.000-05:002005-04-27T14:00:31.143-05:00

2008 is a long way off, and much damage is yet to be done before we get there, but at least it buys us some time to assess and revise. Unlike the Titanic, we didn’t smash into the iceberg head on. We are slowly dragging the hull across that mountain of ice, accompanied by the screeching and groaning of shivering, contorting metal. We will survive, the ship will be repaired, and the Captain will

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1114362950069365342005-04-24T12:05:00.000-05:002005-04-25T14:18:50.290-05:00

It’s another fine Sunday morning, and the freshly paved and striped church parking lots are brimming with the SUVs and minivans that transported impeccably dressed and well-coiffured families to their weekly appointment with god. Souls will be cleansed, business cards will be passed, wafers will be eaten and untaxed income will be collected.I have chosen, once again, to take a pass on the

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1114177634748992082005-04-22T08:44:00.000-05:002005-04-22T08:47:14.750-05:00

How about that Virgin Mary? For a chaste woman, she sure gets around. And she leaves a lot of stains. You just never know where she’s going to make her next appearance. It’s a veritable "Where’s Waldo?" for bibliolatrists.In the past year, she's shown up in grilled cheese sandwiches and on bed linens. She’s currently playing a gig on the wall of a Chicago underpass. I’ve been looking for her in

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1114122209399103252005-04-21T17:15:00.000-05:002005-04-22T17:59:13.263-05:00

I’m glad I never got a tattoo. When tattoos were meaningfully defiant, my arms were so scrawny I didn’t want to draw attention to them. My skinny arms saved me, because tattoos are no longer cool.Tattoos were once significant. WWII and Korean War vets came home with tattoos bearing the symbols of their infantry divisions. Serial psychopaths bore tattoos telling the world what they were born to do

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1113757143049681632005-04-17T11:52:00.000-05:002005-04-17T11:59:03.053-05:00

When I retired from my week-to-week corporate career, I also retired from the American health insurance system. Unemployed and self-employed people don’t deserve health care. If they selfishly choose not to participate in the ownership society by working for Halliburton, or a subsidiary, vendor or customer of Halliburton, they should have the common decency to pass away. The American health

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1113611031497837892005-04-15T19:19:00.000-05:002005-04-15T19:23:51.500-05:00

Life presents me with many nagging questions that deprive me of sleep and cause me to occupy countless hours with circular pondering. Why am I here? What is my purpose? Is there a god? Why am I graying on one side of my body more than the other? What is that thing on my lip?One question, however, has proven excruciatingly befuddling:How does one decide to become a podiatrist?When I was a grammar

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1113351470415349052005-04-12T19:12:00.000-05:002005-04-13T13:53:56.546-05:00

As a wee boy in the mid 1960s, I remember wheeling down Interstate 90 in the family cruiser, on a three week camping tour of the American West, when I was struck with an image I have not since forgotten. A craggy-looking character on a Panhead Harley blew by us, bedroll strapped to the back fender and face distorted by the 80 mile per hour wind blast. I thought it was the coolest symbol of

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1113062826539641432005-04-09T11:01:00.000-05:002005-04-09T12:36:23.383-05:00

A fellow blogger describes me as "a pessimistic and unhappy dude," yet cites my blog as one of her sites of interest. I am flattered by her recognition of the interesting qualities of my rants and, believe it or not, I am happy about her description of me.I am happy that I am able to express my disgust, chagrin and, albeit infrequently, my pleasure. I am happy that I am able to voice my opinions

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1112899865451298442005-04-07T13:45:00.000-05:002005-04-07T13:57:11.766-05:00

Now that Pope John Paul II has been laid out on a slab for public inspection, drawing the curtain on Act One of the Greatest Show On Earth, a piss-and-smoke break is warranted to decide if it’s worth staying for the rest of the show.Act One brought us pronouncements upon the evils of war, the cruelty of poverty and the needlessness of famine; those are no-brainers that hardly qualify as bravado.

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1112819647242361652005-04-06T15:34:00.000-05:002005-04-09T15:18:59.650-05:00

^^^ 6 Years Of College ^^^So Much For "No Child Left Behind"

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1112402431938652882005-04-01T18:34:00.000-06:002005-04-12T14:23:08.076-05:00

I awoke this morning to a barrage of particularly cheery, not-so-newsy newspaper headlines:"Pope receives last rites""Schiavo dies after wrenching battle""Prince Rainier’s condition worsens"The death stuff used to be relegated to the obituaries. Now it’s a sport with box scores. Being a gravedigger, my own death will be just another day at the office, except my back won’t hurt and I’ll be better

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1111608065262498662005-03-23T13:57:00.000-06:002005-03-23T14:20:54.723-06:00

Dear Senator Doctor Frist:As a tax-paying citizen at the third notch of the Bible Belt, I have a problem that can only be solved by a Senate Majority Leader with an M.D. I have very expensive, high-deductible health insurance, purchased in the consumer-driven marketplace of the ownership society, and I feel fortunate to have the minimal coverage it provides. I hesitate to make any claims under

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1111439616265546132005-03-23T12:00:00.000-06:002005-03-29T17:52:09.260-06:00

Dear Representative Hastert,I never would have considered drafting this correspondence to you previously, but recent events have shattered my paradigmatic thinking for the better and I now feel confident that I can appeal to your Congressional sense of fair play.My neighbors and I have been trying for years to get a stop sign on the corner of our residential city block, but our efforts have

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1111600330134343922005-03-23T11:48:00.000-06:002005-03-23T11:52:10.136-06:00

Men have two testicles for a reason. One produces testosterone and the other produces stupid. Look at the Harry Stoneciphers of the world. As the ousted head goomba at Boeing, he is the most recent proof of my hypothesis that there is no such thing as an ugly rich guy. At an age when he should be building birdhouses with his Shopsmith, he was stricken with a case of slippery zipper syndrome. He’

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1111335194967516752005-03-20T10:09:00.000-06:002005-03-21T21:49:57.596-06:00

When I was a kid, I had to pass the "Constitution Test" to graduate from high school. I also learned esoteric reading, writing, and arithmetic skills, which have since become technologically obsolete. Likewise, my Constitution knowledge has become politically outmoded.Our country has three branches of governance: Executive, Legislative and Judicial. Theoretically, the three branches are

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1111067484959159642005-03-17T07:45:00.000-06:002005-03-17T07:51:24.963-06:00

Despite our politically correct, genderless twenty-first century society, I think it’s not only acceptable, but also MANDATORY, for a man to be a man. I will be simple, direct and heavy-handed, and I reserve the right to be wrong. I will stop being wrong when I decide I’m wrong, but if you insist on arguing with me, I reserve the right to become wronger.The feminization of man has laid waste to

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110927271694274302005-03-15T16:50:00.000-06:002005-03-15T16:57:34.086-06:00

"At least you have your health"How many times has that insipid observation been repeated, implying a mutual exclusivity between wealth and health? Sure, money isn’t everything, unless you DON’T HAVE ANY! The implication is that you have a choice between being rich and sick or poor and healthy. Apples and oranges. The scientific method dictates that you hold one variable constant while changing

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110583100004230352005-03-11T17:14:00.000-06:002005-03-11T17:20:11.226-06:00

As a retired CPA with obsessive-compulsive disorder, this is what runs through my head all day:47 times 5 equals 235, therefore 47 times 50 equals 2,350. 47 times 3 equals 141. 2,350 minus 141 equals 2,209. Therefore 47 times 47 equals 2,209.Some wives leave because hubby won’t answer the question "what are you thinking?" Mine left because I did.Now, please excuse me while I check the stove.

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110495597276692432005-03-10T16:55:00.000-06:002005-03-10T20:25:32.016-06:00

Witness the automobiles bearing the red, white and blue ribbon sticker with the text that reads "Bring Our Troops Home Safely." On the same vehicle is a sticker that reads "Re-elect Bush-Cheney." Imagine, if you will, an automobile negotiating the streets of 1945 Germany with a sticker that reads "Stop Persecuting Jews," and another sticker that reads "Support Adolph Hitler." Flip a coin, people.

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110495031584211892005-03-10T16:45:00.000-06:002005-03-10T20:32:32.656-06:00

The Chief Executive Officers of the three hospitals in my Illinois hamlet have formed a Collaborative. I know it’s so because it was published in the Gannett Gazette serving my community. A collaborative what, you may ask? A collaborative effort? A collaborative group? A collaborative collaboration? No, just a Collaborative. Apparently the capitalization of an adjective transforms it into a

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110462672179568902005-03-10T07:48:00.000-06:002005-03-10T07:51:12.180-06:00

On Saturday 11/13/04, Vice President Cheney awoke with a sniffle and shortness of breath. He was escorted by motorcade to a Washington, D.C. hospital, where he reportedly did not spend 45 minutes in admissions filling out paperwork and funding his deductible and copay. He underwent a day of diagnosis and treatment by a team of physicians led by his cardiologist. Upon his release, Cheney was

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110462213181352652005-03-10T07:40:00.000-06:002005-03-10T07:43:33.183-06:00

This letter to the editor appeared in my local newspaper:"Praise God. President George W. Bush was reelected! President Bush kept all his 2000 promises to me. This year we had another act of God keeping the president in office. In 2000, I knew before the election Gov. Bush was God’s choice as president."Are you as frightened as I am?

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110414028624737002005-03-09T18:19:00.000-06:002005-03-10T20:27:33.833-06:00

The social security system, currently under fire and dismantlement by the Republichristians, is indeed a socialistic endeavor. Socialism is a cuss word to the current powers and their obedient followers, but it is really nothing more than a manifestation of our sense of community. In the agrarian society of lore, if a neighbor’s barn burned the neighbors rose to the occasion with a barn raising.

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110413893460911922005-03-09T18:17:00.000-06:002005-03-09T18:18:13.460-06:00

Do I feel any sense of reverence when burying a deceased person’s remains? No, I am disposing of toxic waste. I am burying a carcass that has been pumped full of chemicals and sealed within two containers. The burial site is a construction site intended to protect the groundwater from contamination by the slow seepage of chemicals and bodily fluids. Is it not the occultist’s belief that the body

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110412997271151512005-03-09T18:02:00.000-06:002005-04-04T14:11:57.806-05:00

The best, and most memorable, way to learn not to fuck up is to…fuck up.

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110413778059595272005-03-02T18:14:00.000-06:002005-03-17T09:24:38.986-06:00

What happened to Dennis Miller? He belongs in the Brainwash Hall of Fame along with the Manson family and Jim Jones’ parishioners. How did a once pithy observer and critic of politicians, both republican and democratic, become such a staunch punch-drinker? I can only hope that his behavior is an Andy Kaufmanesque gag, and that he will unveil the satire and irony during a keynote speech at a

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110413624257367802005-03-02T18:10:00.000-06:002005-03-17T09:23:48.860-06:00

I have always explained to my advisees that one does not invest in the stock market. You invest in the stock of publicly traded companies, and the stock market is simply the conduit via which you make the investment. The stock market is the vehicle that allows you to choose the equity stakes in which you invest.I have changed my mind.I now believe that you do invest in the stock market. It has

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110413266948544452005-03-02T18:04:00.000-06:002005-03-17T09:22:44.010-06:00

A middle-aged white guy told me that Republicans are more Christian than Democrats. He unknowingly raised two talking points with this comment, not just the one that he thought he was raising:Are Republicans more Christian than Democrats? What are the criteria? Frequency and duration of church attendance? Purity of thought? Level of tithe? Like any game, the criteria of measurement must be

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110412871675607142005-03-02T17:59:00.000-06:002005-04-23T08:45:36.533-05:00

I think Prince George has ADD. He darts like a hummingbird from one crisis to the next. First, we had the WTC attack crisis, which gave rise to the hunt for Osama Bin Laden. George lost interest in that search, but decided as long as we had all of our stuff in Afghanistan we should bomb Baghdad and address the lack-of-democracy crisis in Iraq. After that fire was stoked and self-sustaining,

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11343826.post-1110411930161122102005-03-02T17:38:00.000-06:002005-03-17T09:17:31.546-06:00

The Illinois medical community has mounted an aggressive and concerted campaign to market tort reform to its constituency. The campaign is anecdotal in nature, and the complainants’ pleas carry two common themes:1) If you do not give us what we want, we will not treat you.2) Every patient who walks through our doors is buying a scratch ticket for a pot of gold.The first is an unveiled threat that

Cranky Bastardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04163610770185308116noreply@blogger.com