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This is our house too, damnit!Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away, there existed the United States of America. Many four scores of years ago a person could walk up to the White House and request a visit with the president. Just imagine, poor peasant person that you are, that you have a simple demand or request that could help your community or country and just happen to live down the street from the new king. You walk up, the president is free, and you are welcomed into the goddamn house he lives in that you bloody paid for!!! Why do you think you’re a peasant? ‘Cause you just added a new wing. They labeled it: “The West Wing.” And for your viewing pleasure: Visiting hours are Never.

In modern times, of course, the American people are not welcome into the public house they paid for and keep paying for. Our children will continue paying for it long after our decrepit, withered, broken souls are deep in the digestive systems of worms and zombies. It’s not fair! I’m lucky if some sweaty guy gets the letter I wrote about whatever I feel like; the president never reads that crap. Let alone actually get to go to dinner with the most powerful man on the planet. I think you see what I’m getting at: recently, a couple of dumb idiots crashed the state dinner at the White House. Boo, bloody, hoo. I think we sound more like the "Planet of the Apes."

Ho ho ho, give me your dough!Can you see the logic?

The close relationship, the natural progression, from one thought to the next?

Each year at Christmas we celebrate the birth of a First Century AD Galilean holy man and prophet, who preached, according to what we find in the Bible, humility, forbearance, sweetness and frugality. We celebrate this with an orgy of retail spending.

We also celebrate this short and obscure life, for there isn't much hard historical evidence of the details, by promoting the mythological arrival on your roof of a German fat man in a red suit, in a sleigh pulled by wild bovines, one of whom has an incandescent nose.

Doesn't it make sense? It all makes perfect sense to me.

I is Sheriff Buford T. Justice of Riyadh.I call for an immediate attack on Saudi Arabia to take over their oil and to install an American-backed regime in Riyadh friendlier to the United States. It's been eight whole years, and we haven't  attacked a third country yet. We only attack countries weaker and smaller than ourselves. It was Saudi Arabia remember that supplied the hijackers that carried out 9-11.

Why do we love Saudi Arabia? We hate Moslems. Because of 9-11, we hate all Muslims, even those poor slobs in Indonesia, right?

I want you outa Mecca by dawn, you damn dirty ape.We could make Saudi Arabia first an exploited colony garrisoned by American troops and ruled by an American viceroy who looks like John Wayne. He could saunter around with a pair of pistols and say to all the turban-heads, get out of my way, Pilgrim!

Eventually, we would annex Saudi Arabia and make it the 51st state in the union.

We would call it, Saudi America.

Things that make you go OUCH!Since nobody uses it, why do we have the word “ouch,” the sound you make when you hurt yourself?

Where did this word come from? There is no doubt, back in the mists of time, when small men with giant reproductive organs walked the earth looking for women and wearing animal skins, they made up the first words by making similar sounds to the thought they wanted to express, or the danger they wanted to communicate.
It was mostly about danger back then. There was little incentive to go to all the trouble to make up a word to say, “Pass me the saber-tooth.”

Thus, if you were a caveman and saw a dangerous snake, you told your partner “hiss!” In other words, look out, there’s a f..’ckin’ snake. Then, if you wanted your partner to hit the f..’ckin snake over the head with a rock, you said, “hiss, smash!”

But if your partner missed, and hit your toe with the rock instead, you said “OW!” Not ouch. That came later, when more sophisticated words were added.

Bravo! has done it again!  Yes, they have come up with another great, pointless reality show called Project Runway, hosted by the gorgeous, deal-with-the-devil beauty, Heidi Klum.  The last time I saw Heidi, she did a cameo for the hit show Sex & The City, and her one line was, "How do I look?"  She then flowed over Carrie Bradshaw on, you guessed it, the runway.  Stunning as ever and very pregnant (although I was relieved to see that her legs looked thick, at least she's retaining something), she arrives for a second season on the Bravo channel to say the now famous words of, "Are you in, or are you out?"  "They sew, she cuts" is how they advertise this great fun of judging people who clearly have little talent and need to keep their current jobs.


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