Alternative fortune cookie fortunes

* * *

"There's a booger hanging from your nose"

"You're going to die in ten minutes"

"Your wife thinks you have a small dick"

"You're a shitbag"


* * *

Recession post vol. eight: snow day lunch

Getcha a chunk of butter, maybe two or three tablespoons. Melt that in a sauce pan and add about two or three tablespoons of flour. Use a whisk and mix it into a good paste. Pour some milk in there, start out with, say, a half a cup and keep whisking until it gets silky smooth. Add more milk if it's too thick.

The next part is the cheese.

Now don't everyone go screaming naked through the streets, but here's the truth: You could make with some aged cheddar or a good gruyere, but if you want the kids (who are home from school on account of the 17 feet of snow and ice) happy, you'll pull out the Velveeta.

There, I said it.

Get about three or four ounces (it's marked on the foil package) and cut it into one-inch chunks. Throw that into the milk/butter/flour stuff (I won't spoil Al the Retired Army Guy's fun and tell you the regular name of that). Keep stirring until it's a nice cheesy sauce. Add more milk or cheese if you have to. I don't know how much, just figure it out. I like to put beer in there sometimes, but I don't if it's for the kids. Same goes for some garlic.

A shake of Worcestershire sauce or a teaspoon of dried mustard is good in there, but don't let the kids see you putting it in cause they freak out like you tried to sneak in an onion. Oh yeah, this is on a low/medium heat the whole time. You'll be stirring almost the whole time.

The best bread to use is homemade Italian, sliced almost an inch thick. You could use a bagel or English muffin, I guess. Toast 'em up.

Now plop that toast on a plate and drizzle that cheese sauce all over it. Serve it up with an ice-cold glass of milk and a dish of apple sauce sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

When I make it for the kids, I call it a knife-and-fork toasted cheese. The real name is Welsh Rarebit. I've never followed a recipe for it, but here's one if you want to. Those kids will about do back flips over this. Plus, afterwords their full up with fuel to tackle the snow banks and sleds and forts for the rest of the afternoon.

If you did it right, you'll have enough left over in the bottom of the pan for you to get a good dunk with the heel of the bread. Eat it while you're standing in front of the kitchen sink, watching the little devils running around out back throwing snow and laughing.

Don't believe in magic? I do. Didn't I just make you forget about the recession and turn a bunch of bored kids into snow angels?

Mail call

To: Erin O'Brien
From: anonymous@yahoo.com
Re: Rules that Work

Hi Erin,

I've followed your writing since it first appeared in the Scene. This is the first time I've felt the urge to contact you.

You are pig-shit Irish and would do the world a great favor if you went and sat on a train track. It will be a fine day when the Scene either folds and or lays you off. Perhaps Sam Fulwood III, late of the Cleveland Plain Dealer and you could share a van, down by the river. That's where self-absorbed, jack-off writers go when everyone gets sick of their bullshit.

So if I see you selling the Homeless Grapevine on the street outside the of the Westside Market, you'll know me by how I spit on your stupid, cow like face as I go by. I don't like you.

####

To: anonymous@yahoo.com
From: Erin O'Brien
Re: Re: Rules that Work

Thank you for your comments. May I share them with my editor for possible publication? If so, please include your full name and city.

Sincerely,

Erin O'Brien

####

To: Erin O'Brien
From: anonymous@yahoo.com
R: Re: Re: Rules that Work

You are welcome. No, you may not share my comments with your editor for possible publication.

I'm sure the editor of the 'Scene' is busy enough with his or her second job/hobby as the jizz-mopper at the nudie booth without taking time out on something you could share. In spite of that, I reserve the right to continue encouraging you in your endeavors.

Thank you.

####

Isn't he darling?

VanTique

That was on the back of the van ahead of me in big cursive letters. Sorry, didn't have time to get a photo.

Presumably, "VanTique" is a custom auto shop or a conversion van style. But really, is that the intended, organic use of that word?

Shouldn't VanTique be the name for a sexual enhancement product for middle-aged women, one that is advertised on the Lifetime channel after 10 p.m.?

Although they'd never use this word, it would be an ointment. No one wants to hear about putting ointment on their zorch. They might show the vial or bottle, but that would be the extent of it. No problem, everyone would know it's some cream stuff and what you're supposed to do with it.

Revitalize your flower with VanTique.

There would be some testimonials.

"After 30 years, it's our honeymoon all over again!" a silver fox man would say and the girlish silver-haired woman on his arm would lovingly drop her head on his shoulder.

"I haven't felt like this in years," would be the assertion from an attractive fiftysomething woman. "And neither have I," would add the attractive fiftysomething man next to her with a rakish wink.

Then jazzy mellow music would ensue as the camera takes in a willowy couple dancing by the seashore next to a white-linen covered table upon which sit two champagne flutes and a candle.

VanTique. Do it for him. Do it for yourself.

Am I an underutilized talent or what?

* * *

Things that scare me about my husband, vol. V

Previously, on "Things that scare me about my husband."

Lake Huron is candy ass

"Lake effect" snow occurs when cold-ass air blows over a warm-ass lake, picks up a bunch of that water, turns it into snow and then dumps it on the nearest landfall. In northeast Ohio, we get hella snow on account of it.

When the lake freezes, however, lake effect snow more or less sputters out. Here in Cleveland, we note the conclusion of the lake effect phenomenon by hunkering into our overcoats, peering up at the gray sky with impending dread and saying, "Too cold to snow," to other nodding Clevelanders in layers of dark woolen clothing.

So when I woke up the other day, turned on the news and heard that snow might be coming even though Erie's damn near froze from shore to shore and said snow will be coming from Lake Huron, which is not so frozen I said, what?

Hey, Lake Huron? What are you candy-asses DOING UP THERE? Having a goddamn SWIM PARTY?

We froze our lake like your supposed to, so stop effing around and sending that shit down here. We got more than we can handle as it is! Now go on and freeze your lake and don't ask any questions.

Has anyone seen my husband?

Goat update: frozen beer consumption

* * *background link* * *

True Hollywood story indeed

Shortly before my brother John committed suicide, a relatively unknown singer named Sheryl Crow hit the charts with a song called "Leaving Las Vegas."

The connection between John and the song was through David Baerwald, who knew John and was familiar with his novel Leaving Las Vegas. Baerwald had asked John about the title and John agreed that Baerwald and his Tuesday Music Club could use it as long as John got credit somewhere down the line (John's name never appeared in conjunction with the song, but make no mistake, the title for the song was born of the title of the novel).

Then on David Letterman one night, Crow was a guest and announced that the song was autobiographical. My brother was furious.

All sorts of rumors swirled around the story, most of them false. I'll clarify one and say that this fiasco was by no means the reason John committed suicide.

E! True Hollywood Story contacted me a few weeks ago about images of John, apparently for the Sheryl Crow THS premiere at 9 p.m. EST tomorrow night. I'll be interested to see how they handle it. It's never really been covered before, save for a story in the November 14, 1996 Rolling Stone, the cover story for which was on Sheryl Crow. Dad and I were both interviewed for it.

And now for a tidbit: My dad's meticulous notes regarding John's life indicate that A&M Records purchased some 470 copies of Leaving Las Vegas in 1993 in order to promote the Sheryl Crow song. Hm.

For those interested in more of John's story, here is a post that is chock full of links about John and my family.

Heads up for Northeast Ohio writers

Busy Saturday? If not, check out Careers beyond the Newsroom.

Abracadabra *updated*

I love vintage magic posters to a fault. I only have one, "Dreamland," which features Chevalier Earnest Thorn. I love how it seduces with the promise of evil and sin. So much better than a naked or some stupid thing. Now go here and blow a few minutes. Which one would you buy?

*I added the photo after a little bird down under reminded me of this post. Click to enlarge.

Rushed notes

I tuned into Limbaugh while running errands today. Here is the pertinent information:

1. Limbaugh's speech impediment is getting so bad, his garbled moments are more and more frequent. He's getting very difficult to understand.

2. "Shelley" called in and said that she's listened to Rush for years and mostly agrees with him, but that he should tone down the anti-Obama stuff as the country is really in trouble and needs to come together. He asked her if she'd ever suffered a blunt-trauma to the head and said "Why should I support Obama for the sake of the country?"

3. I didn't catch the whole story on this, but apparently, on yesterday's show Rush offered live running commentary during Obama's swearing in and inauguration speech. Unfortunately, this was the feed at least one schoolroom was listening to. The teacher said that Limbaugh ruined a once in a lifetime moment for her students with his disrespectful sound bites. I gleaned all of this from a discussion Rush was having with a caller about a letter the teacher wrote. I couldn't find a link about it. Rush was deriding the teacher's claim that it was a singular moment for the children and rhetorically asked, "They've never woke up on Christmas morning?"

Hit parade

Kelly Clarkson's new "hit" single is entitled "My Life Would Suck Without You."

Help.

Americans

One podcast I always make time for is Dan Carlin's Common Sense. Sometimes I vehemently agree with Carlin and sometimes I want to yell at him while jumping up and down, redfaced. But in either case, he is always smart and always worthy of his audience. He offers a different point of view.

I was listening to show 143 "Black Dog" over the weekend. He opened with a monologue on why his optimism has failed him, that the country's future is dismal and that he just had nothing to offer otherwise.

Mr. Carlin, I have optimism.

Between the plummeting Dow and the skyrocketing unemployment rate, there's something that's easy to forget: Our greatest resource and strength is the American people.

No, I am not about to start waving the flag. Instead, I'll offer up a recent example. When gas prices soared to four dollars a gallon, Americans tightened their belts at the pump. A lot. We started driving some 10 billion miles less a month. Ten billion!

And gas prices responded. I don't know what portion of the total fall in the price of a barrel is relative to decreased consumption, but remember when it fell about 30 cents last summer? We did that--you and me; and the move to conserve looks like it's sticking. When Americans do something smart in the face of rough waters, it restores my belief in them.

With shrinking job markets and pocketbooks, everyone will need to conserve and they will, just like they did with the gas. I might be a liberal, but I'm very conservative when it comes to conservation. I conserve energy and water and space and time. I have deep respect for my every resource. Hence, I won't miss the have-to-have-it-all-right-now attitude that's prevailed from coast to coast for decades.

Sacrifices? Maybe people will dine out less and eat ham sandwiches at the kitchen table more (put a couple of potato chips right on the sandwich between the mayo and lettuce--kicks total ass). Maybe the fabulous resort vacations will turn into roadtrips to state parks or stay-at-home celebrations where the focus is on fun. Maybe we won't be able to afford those elaborate personal electronics and we'll start talking again. Instead of scattering across the land in search of bigger, better, and more, maybe families who've fallen on hard luck will band together and help each other. Maybe this toxic bubble of greed will pop along with all the other bubbles.

When it does, we'll come out on the other side smarter and tougher. We'll be wise to the fact that the phrase "I want better for my kids than I had" does not mean a bigger house or salary, but a better quality of life wherein one's time is spent not only with people they love, but working a craft in which they take pride. I believe the American people are going to make it through the next couple of dark years and emerge with the sort of values that will make us true and gentle giants.

President Obama believes in the American People too. He believes in all of us, red or blue or any color in between. His belief is powerful enough to diminish the deep-rooted fear swirling around him. Why look here, it's already started.

In bed on line

Randy sent me a link to Naomi Wolf's thoughts on porn.

She talks about her interviews with college kids and how Internet porn is dragging all the mystery out of sex and the libido out of young men, that women now have to be buff and trimmed and acrobatic in order to compete with the cyberspace lovelies.

Thirty years ago, simple lovemaking was considered erotic in the pornography that entered mainstream consciousness: When Behind the Green Door first opened, clumsy, earnest, missionary-position intercourse was still considered to be a huge turn-on.

Now you have to offer—or flirtatiously suggest—the lesbian scene, the ejaculate-in-the-face scene. Being naked is not enough; you have to be buff, be tan with no tan lines, have the surgically hoisted breasts and the Brazilian bikini wax—just like porn stars.

When a woman coils herself around a man for whom she is burning and whispers, I want you inside of me, with throaty desperation, trimmed or not, hers is the only one in the world to him at that moment. Missionary will likely be the position of choice; and when she cries out as tears squeeze from her eyes, the Internet will never be more irrelevant.

I don't buy Wolf's assertions. So college kids are immature about sex. They always were. And the online porn junkie is the same guy as yesteryear's Hustler fanatic.

If two people have profound desire for one another, it trumps everything and it never goes out of style.

More from me on sex and porn:

What is sexy?

Porn 2.0

The way you move

Phone cam round up

This is spinal tap.

Orange slice on the road.

Ollie's discount closout store.

Men's wear at Ollie's (forgot to check price).

Conjugal visitation accessories at Ollies (one free).

Formal ladies' wear in closeout section of Marc's discount grocery (limit 5).

Crazy eights of hearts.

Hey!

I am a Clevelander and therefore deal with my share of weather. It's hotter than hell in summer here and colder than a brass monkey's pecker in winter. There's four feet of snow and ice all over the place from Halloween until Memorial Day.

So what?

I can't stand sniveling candy asses who go on bellyaching all day and night about a shitty little snow storm or some crap snit heat wave. But people, when the beer in the garage freezes, that's the end of the line!!

And was it just me, or did Bush look like a cadaver last night?

Isn't she lovely?

A post of questionable repute

Dig this irresistible free offer for the ladies! I recommend every link on that page. I loved the "terms" (particularly the part about how there's one special service George performs only for women he's dating), but my favorite part was the application. Do you suppose he keeps meticulous charts tracking the optional "statical purposes only" data?

Ann Coulter's best performance of all time.

In my salad days, I didn't care if a man had a Playboy in a his nightstand drawer or even something more graphic, but a stack of Hustler magazines on the coffee table rendered him as untouchable as a filthy toilet seat. That was then. I don't even know if they still print Hustler. But there's always something, girls. If he has a pair of these on his vehicle, he probably doesn't have a pair on his body or a brain in his head. Run like hell.

Thanks to Hal and Randy for links one and two, respectively.

Go Joe

Thirty thousand words

That's halfway. I'm halfway!

On comments

I have a few liberal friends who delete comments from thier sites if they don't like them or if they espouse a different point of view. That's their business, but I think it's ridiculous. I believe in the first amendment all the time, including when I don't like what people are saying.

I've deleted three comments over the life of this blog. One was libelous (towards someone other than myself) and the other two included hate language. I just don't tolerate that sort of thing and it also is against Blogger's terms and conditions.

A couple of days ago, I wrote a post about anonymity on the Internet. I used the example of the KKK it illustrate the sort of anonymity I find contemptible. It was a good usage and I stand by it. I never accused anyone of being a member of the KKK. So if you're one of the commenters saying I did, KNOCK IT OFF.

That said, the image of the KKK is now lurking in the comment section and understandably evoking anger. As always, I encourage free speech, bawdy humor, heated and polite disagreements and all the other things the comment section affords. But please, everyone behave like the witty, interesting, smart people you are.

In one week, Barack Obama will step into the Oval Office. It's time to celebrate the victory that represents over hate and bigotry. It's time to stand tall.

Jazz it up

ABC News was granted a "rare" interview with two of the top Mormon God Guys. They talked about being misunderstood, conjuring rain, and entering the temple:

"The temple is just a great wonderful experience," said Quentin Cook.

"When we come to the temple we take off our street clothes," added Russell Ballard, "and we dress in white. I would have on a white shirt, and a white tie, white trousers, white socks, white slippers and everybody then, is on a wonderful, equal basis."

I wonder if they ever throw on a strand of pearls to jazz it up a bit.

Anonymity

People wonder why I get so irritated with anonymity on the Internet. Perhaps it's not the anonymous names that bother me, but the impetus behind them.

Al the Retired Army Guy (TRAG) posts here a lot. Although I've known him for years, he is essentially anonymous to the rest of the group. But I am pretty sure Al stands by what he types in the comment section and that he would say to anyone's face exactly what he says in these pages.

I believe Al is accountable for what he says and therefore, I don't find his semi-anonymity objectionable. I'm using Al as an example, but I believe this is true for most of my commenters. "RJ" and "philbilly" don't strike me as people with something to hide (and I'm just citing a few, I dig all my commenters). They use pseudonyms for whatever reason, but not to hide their beliefs or opinions. And yeah, I admit that this judgment is sort of a "gut reaction" thing for me and that it is not at all objective.

But when someone hides behind an anonymous name and avatar in order to spew hatred or racism or just plain old meanness that they don't have to own up to, they are a cowardly little worm. If you are afraid to stand up for what you say, it renders it meaningless in my eyes. Why do you think the KKK shitbags wore those hoods? Because they looked nice?

It comes to this simple rule: If I say it online, I'd say it to your face. I stand behind my every assertion. That's why my pictures are on this blog and why my contact info is in the sidebar and why I always invite my readers to send letters to my editor when I publish elsewhere. I do not waffle around or hide. And if I eff up, I own up to that as well.

Now go on and argue with that you genteel ladies and gentlemen.*#

* refers to the many of the commenters over at V-world. The host is one Mr. Kim Crawford (aka Velociman), who is also available by private email per the front page of his site.

# the language, having offended Mr. Kim Crawford's more refined sensibilities, has been softened so as not to misprepresent his tender commenters.

Malorie Velva

"Malorie Velva" emailed me promising that I can't go wrong with "You BiggerDick Dream." I did not investigate the proposal further, but oh, what a name! Malorie Velva. Wonder what she looks like.

Does she only date men who splash themselves with Aqua Velva or is Velva a secret code for velvet vulva? Girls named Malorie always have pretty hair.

Visions of cubic magnetics dancing in my head

When you disassemble a Rubik's cube, you quickly learn that the brilliance of the puzzle has little to do with the colorful square stickers on its exterior. The brilliance of a Rubik's cube is in it's composition.

Whenever a person with mechanical vision takes apart a Rubik's cube for the first time, they say, holy shit! or something to that effect because it defies description. It's sort of like a sectional rotating sphere, but without any conventional mechanical means. There's no ball bearings. It is a non-mechanical mechanical device. Having grown up the daughter of a machinist, I understand this as something so so rare and simple and inarguable that it is divine.

Now just bear with me: magnets.

In the attraction mode, they move things together (see: your nephew's baby pic on the fridge). Flip their polarity and they move things apart. All of us are intimately familiar with the results of magnetism. We've seen magnets snap together in an instantaneous kiss. We've watched them refuse to touch each other like quarreling spouses. The magnet defines the terms "attract" and "repel" in the most organic sense.

I had to take all sorts of science courses in order to earn my EE degree, including thermodynamics. The one thing that stayed with me from that class was this line from the professor: "When you put energy into something, it either moves or it gets hot." (damn, that's a good line)

This is true of your car, your furnace and your body. But magnetism bypasses that venerable decree. It moves stuff without energy. Very few of us assign the proper amount of significance to that fact: magnetism moves things without fuel--and it works all over the world.

This brings me to the point of my essay, a concept that drives me nearly insane: why in the hell aren't we powering our cars with magnets instead of GAS?

Why why why why? WHY!!??

Because we need someone to have a stroke of divine brilliance like Rubik did with his quirky toy. We need someone to wake up one day with an applicable vision of a device composed of magnets that constantly reverse polarity and uses the worldwide phenomenon of magnetism to push and pull and push and pull and push pull pushpull pushpullpushpullpushpullpushpullpushpull and somehow rotate the axles of our cars (or a reasonable facsimile.)

Then, oh, people, people, people, THEN we could stop sending all of our money to the glittering city of Dubai. When a stroke of brilliance comparable to the Rubik's cube meets the lowly magnet, the world will truly change.

Imagine how many people will want to silence the voice that successfully defines the design that replaces the internal combustion engine with the magneto. Imagine how powerful the country that first conquers that technology will be. Imagine how immediately the Middle East will transform into just a place.

* * *

The administration would like to apologize to the reader for the incomprehensible ramblings of the Authoress. The Authoress, as the reader may have surmised, is difficult to control and is often prone to tangents that have little to do with her daily tasks. However, the administration has discovered that sometimes it is best to indulge the Authoress as the Authoress sees the light in the east and has known the metallic taste of blood. The Authoress hears the sound of falling water.

Research ...

... sometimes leads me to unusual things on the Internet.

Feel free to offer a caption in the comment section. I am speechless.

Really weird

Ain't she sweet?

I just watched Matt Lauer's interview with Ann Coulter on the Today show. She's promoting a new book, which will undoubtedly earn her plenty of money.

"Any societal problem is a problem of single motherhood," opined Coulter.

That beauty comes at about five minutes into the attached clip. I wonder what she thinks of Bristol Palin. Hm.

I could probably gas on for pages about why Coulter is detestable, but she does such a good job on her own, why bother?

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Protect Bigotry

Okay, these unqualified pieces of dog feces may have been successful with the passage of Prop 8, but now that isn't enough. Their move last month to annul some 18,000 legal gay marriages that took place in California just infuriates me.

Referendum proponents known as the "Protect Marriage" coalition on Friday took their campaign one step further, petitioning the Supreme Court to annul the gay marriages officiated so far in California.

"Proposition 8's brevity is matched by its clarity," the group said in its legal brief. "There are no conditional clauses, exceptions, exemptions, or exclusions: 'Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.'" --Google News.

I may not be religious, but I'll be goddamned if I don't pray these "Protect Marriage" scumbags have to meet their maker one day. I wish I could live long enough to watch history judge them.

Forcing people apart, huh? Did you motherfuckers learn that in the Bible?

Goat archives vol. one: bathroom vanity

My Dearly Beloved (aka the Goat) cleaned out his bathroom vanity. Despite what your sensibilities tell you, all of the following photographs were taken on January first in the year of our Lord, two thousand nine.

* * *
Aromatic Brut Soap on a Rope
Still in it's attractive display case.


ElectriSchick Fantasy
State-of-the-art in men's grooming, circa 1977.


Goat Cologne Fabulon
Fortunately, when I took these from the boxes in order to photograph them, it seemed they'd never been opened before. Nonetheless, I cannot resist taking this opportunity to say, "All my men wear English Leather ... or they wear nothing at all."
Does anyone know what the "Saxon Reaction" is?



High Stylin' Blow
This device pioneered the breakthrough technology that brought new heights to men's hair.


Inside the Thinking Man's Mind
What he reads when you're not watching.

* * *
People, this is what real marriage looks like.

The most terrifying thing about all of this is that the Goat saved every item except the Max for Men hair dryer (it no longer worked) and is threatening to use these items one day. Based on the odor that emanated from the Brut soap on a rope when we opened the clear green plastic case (we did not lather it up, but the stench filled the room nonetheless), I told him that if he ever employs it I will divorce him.

As a public service, I urge all of you to forward this post to every woman you know.

Alexyss K. Tylor discusses sexuality with her mother

Crash: The Next Great Depression

I didn't catch all of this, but what I saw was pretty good. Look for it next time it airs. In the meantime, here's some advice anyone can follow during bad economic times.

Kool-Aid Street

The National Conference of Editorial Writers has come up with a list of cliches that are currently plaguing our culture. I have two entries of my own to add.

From Wall Street to Main Street: Phrase spoken by someone who has little or no knowledge of either street, but has a great deal of experience on pundit street.

You drank the Kool-Aid: Term used by intellectually cornered conservative (usually one who is old enough to remember the 1978 Jonestown Massacre) during a charged political or cultural conversation. Following is an example of said usage.

Conservative: "This crisis is aaaaaaall in the lap of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac."

Other: "But what about the slow erosion of Glass-Steagall? What about the Securities and Exchange Commission slashing up the net capital rule in 2004?"

Conservative (after a moment of nonplussed eye-blinking): "I can see you drank the Kool-Aid."