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Commentary Funny and/or Strange Uncategorized

Thanks, Mom

My mom just had a birthday, but we’re not celebrating it until tomorrow since she was away on the actual day. We’re going to get out the grill, burn some food, have something bad for us for desert. By coincidence, one of my nephews posted this on his facebook* page:

I DON’T THINK MOST GIRLS REALIZE HOW HANDSOME MY MOM SAYS I AM.

My immediate response was laughing agreement, “I know, right?” But then I got to thinking: It’s been a long time since I paid any attention to how women respond to me, because the best part of being old (though not as old as my mom….

…is just not caring what anyone thinks about anything. The default response of most mature folks over 50 is “Screw you, assclown!” 

But who among us hasn’t thought after some chick (or dude, if that’s how you roll) does that snotty tongue-click “tch” thing, that the obviously blind jerk needs a sit down with mom?

I actually believed I was handsome well into my teenage years, thanks to my mom, until that day that I really looked in the mirror and was, like, “Oh, so that’s what the problem is.” Fortunately, by that time, I’d already started to not give many damns–and if girls are attracted to anything, it’s guys who just don’t give a damn. The less damns you have to give, the more what you do have are in demand.

And hey, mom: thanks for that.

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Funny and/or Strange meme Uncategorized

Happy Samuel Jackson Day!

That’s right, it is Samuel Jackson’s birthday. Motherfucker.

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It’s Leonard Nimoy Day

On this day, March 26, in the year 1931, Leonard Nimoy was born.  He would have been 85.  While he was here, he ruled.  Absolutely.  Some say he still does.

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Funny and/or Strange Narrative/Journal Uncategorized

On This Day in History…

In 1941, legendary North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il was born. He would have been 75. I snapped this photo back in my days with the diplomatic corps, during a three-day bender with Jong-il and a trio of Belgian prostitutes we’d picked up after a failed, clandestine meeting in Antwerp. He wanted nothing to do with increased grain subsidies, he’d laughed, unless that grain arrived in the form of Jack Daniels bourbon, which was hard to come by in North Korea thanks to an American embargo on luxury goods.

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Jong-il decided he wanted to swim, and one thing led to another. We crossed France without incident. Surely some palms were greased along the way, as there was no mistaking the sleek, vintage  1974 Lincoln I wouldn’t see again until his funeral parade.  Man, was that car cool.

Just after dawn we found ourselves in an apartment two blocks off the Cotes de Basques, ostensibly maintained as an RBG safe house. There was so much beer, pot, and cocaine–Jong-il was crazy about snorting the coke from one of the hooker’s ass cracks, after which he would laugh for half an hour, just giggling like a school girl–I’ve never seen anything like it, even during the out of control years of the first Bush administration. We never even left the apartment, let alone saw the beach. Sure do miss that crazy little guy; he really knew how to party.

 

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