KFC

There's nothing worse than seeing an old friend go through an identity crisis. Once self-assured, he proudly walked, or clucked, with his head held high. But then after a taste of failure, he begins to question his very worth. I speak not of a political candidate, or even my favorite masseuse, Tandelayo Schwartz - who has the softest hands and feet in the business. I am referring to Kentucky Fried Chicken - possibly the greatest restaurant ever to put food in a bucket. Okay - they were the only restaurant ever to put food in a bucket, but still - the profound brilliance of their crispy delight could never be denied. You could eat their chicken, and then use the bucket when the diarrhea hits.

But now KFC is changing and, in select cities, the brand will become Kentucky Grilled Chicken. They're introducing grilled meat, an item with less fat and salt than the original fried glop. To be extra safe, wear a helmet while eating it.

There will be new signs to promote this healthier fare, and even the buckets are getting a makeover . But to me, making KFC healthier is like teaching Jenna Jameson how to read. That kind of enhancement is unnecessary.

The goal to entice health conscious consumers to KFC is a spurious one - for there are a million places for the lycra-wearing loons to get a salad. KFC should reject them, and brazenly encourage us toward our next, inevitable coronary. Fried chicken may be bad for you, but that's what makes it good for you.

And if you disagree with me, then you sir are worse than Hitler.

SATIRE ALERT

Hillary; Courage Under Sniper Fire

"I remember landing under sniper fire," Mrs. Clinton reminisced about a 1996 trip to war-torn Bosnia. "There was supposed to be some kind of a greeting ceremony at the airport, but instead we just ran with our heads down to get into the vehicles to get to our base."

What bravery! I haven't been so awestruck by the courage of a Democrat leader since John Kerry spent Christmas in Cambodia.

But less than a New York Minute after Hillary astounded us with her tale of heroism, the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy was already calling her a liar. The Conservative Broadcasting Service (CBS) even aired archival footage of a giddy First Lady springing off her plane in Bosnia to a friendly greeting ceremony and mingling with the crowd.

Sure, Hillary's story may seem like a lie when you contrast it with the truth, but only a partisan hack would go to such trouble. Besides, who among us can honestly say they've never accidentally provided incorrect information in a job interview? We've all done it at one time or another. I erroneously claimed I was that guy in front of the tanks at Tiananmen Square when I was up for my teaching job at Evergreen State College.

Okay, my mistake. Turns out I've never even been to China. Time goes by, memories fade. I'm only human.

Hillary, on the other hand, has at least been to Bosnia. Maybe she got a few of the other details wrong. It was 12 years ago, folks! I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, let alone whether or not I was fired upon by enemy snipers in a foreign land 12 years ago! Can YOU?

We can continue to engage in the Politics of Personal Destruction and tear Hillary apart for having a less than perfect memory, but I swear unto you that America would be losing a great Commander-in-Chief, and a damn fine Marine.

This is no load of crap

I got up this morning and because of a number of issues having to do with my surgery I was really sore and it took some time to roll out of bed and head to the head (that’s the bathroom for those who live the landlubber life) and all I kept saying to myself was “aw-shit”.

Shit is a powerful word.

Just think of all the concepts and ideas you can communicate with it.

Shit may just be the most powerful word in the English language.

Consider this: You can be shit faced, be shit out of luck, or have shit for brains.

With a little effort you can get your shit together, find a place for your shit or decide to shit or get off the pot.

You can smoke shit, buy shit, sell shit, lose shit, find shit, forget shit, and tell others to eat shit and die.

You can shit or go blind, have a shit fit or just shit your life away.

People can be shit headed, shit brained, shit blinded, and shit over.

Some people know their shit while others can't tell the difference between shit and shineola.

There are lucky shits, dumb shits, crazy shits, and sweet shits.

There is bull shit, dog shit, cat shit, bird shit, whale shit, rat shit, and horse shit.

There is tough shit, hard shit, soft shit, slimy shit, rough shit, limp shit.

You can shit a blue streak, shit bricks, shit pink Twinkies, shit marbles, or shit your guts out.

You can throw shit, sling shit, catch shit, or duck when the shit hits the fan.

You can take a shit, give a shit, keep shit or serve shit on a shingle.

You can find yourself in deep shit, or be happier than a pig in shit.

Some days are colder than shit, some days are hotter than shit, and some days are just plain shitty.

There is funny shit and sad shit, bad shit and good shit.

Some shit doesn't stink while other things really smell like shit.

Some music sounds like shit, things can look like shit, and there are times when you feel like shit.

You can be faster than shit or you can be slower than shit.

Sometimes you'll find shit on a stick, sometimes you'll find shit everywhere, and then there are times when you can't find shit at all.

You can have too much shit, not enough shit, the right shit, the wrong shit or a lot of weird shit.

You can carry shit in a bucket, put shit in a barrel, have a pile of shit, have a mountain of shit, have a river of shit, or find yourself up shit creek without a paddle.

You can slice shit, spread shit, dunk shit or jump shit, and some people just can't cut the shit.

There is fun shit and dull shit, silly shit and serious shit.

Sometimes you really need this shit and sometimes you don't want any shit at all.

You can stir shit, kick shit or stick your ass out the window and shit on the world.

Sometimes everything you touch turns to shit and other times you swim in a lake of shit and come out smelling like a rose.

Shit! When you stop to consider all the facts, it's the basic building block of creation.

This means the universe did not begin with a BIG BANG but rather with a BIG DUMP.

Keep that in mind the next time you flush the toilet.

And remember, once you know your shit, you don't need to know anything else.

Satire Alert - you have surgery and get drugs that makes the seemingly rational look truthful

A Special message form Gerald Ferraro

Hello, I'm Geraldine Ferraro, former Congressperson from New York, former Ambassaperson to the UN, and the winner of a Tony Award for my critically acclaimed portrayal of Mark Twain in the Broadway musical, Cats.

Today I'd like to talk to you about race. The Presidential Race, that is! As you may know, my dear friend Hillary Clinton has been facing some fierce competition from Barack Obama in her run for the White House. Many of you have probably already succumbed to Jungle Fever and joined his bizarre sex cult. But the fact of the matter is that Obama in only where he is today because he is Black. If he were a white man, he'd still be back on the plantation, eating watteymelon and singing Negro spirituals in a deep baritone.

Don't ever let anyone hear you say that, though. In today's hostile political climate, you can't make a disparaging racial remark about somebody without everyone calling you a "racist". That's because it's easier for Obama to inject race into the campaign and launch personal attacks than debate Hillary on the issues. It's how the Good Ol' Boys in the Grand Ol' Party operate. Ol' Walter Mondale can attest to that. There wasn't a day that went buy that Reagan didn't make some snide comment about Wally's homosexuality. Too bad Mondale was white or he'd be President today. And I'll be the first one to admit that if my name was "Gerald" instead of "Geraldine", I never would've been his running mate. Heck, if my name was Skip Stephenson, I wouldn't even be talking to you right now.

Alright. I'm going to be completely honest with you people. I'm not always 100% sure exactly who I am. Sometimes I get a little confused. Just last night, my wonderful wife says to me "Hal, you are NOT Geraldine Ferraro! Stop putting on make-up and issuing statements to the press! And stop pooping in my sock drawer!" Then a cold wave of fear will sweep over me, because I'm pretty sure I saw the ol' battle axe get devoured by that monster under the stairwell. Or was that Adrienne Barbeau? Yes, yes. I'm almost certain it was. What a rack on that gal! I would've married her, too, if she were a white man. I was fortunate enough instead to marry that beautiful actress from Designing Women, Delta Burke.

That would make me Gerald MacRaney, wouldn't it?

Gerald!!!! Then Good God, how the hell did I get to be Vice President?

What you probably don't know but I will say

So in the last week, someone in Obama's camp had to step down for saying something mean about Hillary, and then someone in Hillary's camp had to step down for saying something mean about Obama. And now, we're about to see David Paterson become governor of New York - and I'm willing to bet that no one is a going to say anything bad about him. Why? Because if they do, they will be fired. Mr. Paterson is not only black, but he's legally blind - two things that immediately earn him the "success against all odds" news peg, which I'm sure he deserves. I predict a glowing portrait of him in USA Today, with fourteen accompanying pie charts and a sidebar on how many Americans are affected by legal blindness. Sandy Duncan might weigh in with a thoughtful commentary about how few movies roles are available to women with impaired vision.

But should all of this prevent us from examining DP's intriguing past? Not me. I don't see color, and I don't see blindness. My vision is actually 20-400, so you could say I'm blind to blindness, much in the way Paterson is blind to common sense. I am referring to his wacky effort to push legal changes to hinder police use of firearms. In order to stop an armed criminal, he wanted officers to aim at the thug's arm or leg - in order to wound, instead of kill. If the officer disobeys, he could go to jail for manslaughter.

Now, I know something about guns, and I know a little about criminals. And believe me, when criminals are attacking innocent civilians, their intent is not to wound, but to render their victims helpless - which often involves splattering their innards all over a sidewalk. So in effect, Paterson believes that the guy who's going to blow your head off for your IPOD Nano is more valuable to society than the poor cop trying to protect you.

Thankfully, this legislation hasn't passed yet, but we shouldn't ignore this idiocy simply because the gentleman behind it has an inspirational story to tell. For me anyway, it will fall on deaf ears.

And if you don't agree with me, then you Sir are worse than Hitler with a blind fold on.