21 May 2005


I'm serious. I feel the need for a weekend long rant coming on, and it will not be pretty

I have never been one to suggest or condone physical violence, but the next person who whips out the "Nazi" reference in my presence is going to get their head stomped. Large.

Oh my doG, has it really come this far? Now we have Bernard Kilpatrick, the father of Detroit mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, comparing the current investigation into Mayor Kilpatrick's questionable expense account transactions to the fookin' Nazis and the Holocaust. Jeasus Christo!

Anyone who tosses out the "Nazi" comparison in trivial daily arguements is either ignorant beyond belief or deliberately trying to obfuscate / inflame an issue. There is no third choice.

I'll spare you the history lesson: if you are returning to these pages, you have probably already done the required reading of history and understand the significance thereof. To paraphrase Mr.Bill: ".....there are millions of pictures of people protesting GWB, but no pictures of people protesting Hitler....."

Note to self: Once you take over the World, History education in the public schools needs some attention. Fix this right after you ban the designated hitter and Astroturf from baseball .

The whole "Nazi" comparison thingy has gotten way out of hand. Sure, Seinfeld's "Soup Nazi" was screamingly funny; maybe that's where the "Nazi" concept "jumped the shark" and was trivialized down for everyday use. "No.Soup.For.You!" Denial of soupage=Nazi, which extrapolates out to "anyone who harshes your mellow"=Nazi.

(My sincere apologies to the crew at Cold Fury, but the phrase "harshing your mellow" just has to make it into the popular vernacular. The phrase is just too cool not to be widely used.)

Dammit! It has gotten late early again. Now, I must sleep, for the Big Casa de Heywood Garage Sale comes with the rising Sun. I shall return, manana noche, with rantus continious plus tales of home-grown capitalism. Caveat Empor!!

Saturday 21 May 2005 11:46 PM

Saturday night's alright for.....something. Hell, I don't know anymore

My only note on the concept of garage sales: just throw the siht away. Really. Just pitch it. For the amount of money cleared divided by the time I invested in collecting up all the stuff, putting out the signs, organizing it all in the garage, and then sitting there for effectively all of a Saturday, I ended up with an hourly wage that would piss off a migrant farm worker.

Topping off all the garage sale festivities with maintenance of the grounds here at Casa de Heywood; I am beat. So here I am; I really should go to bed as I have been volunteered for Kite Squadron Dawn Patrol with the Genetical Twinlets. Believe me, 5 and a half year olds have a strict and harsh interpretation of the concept of "dawn". It's like their internal clocks are set on Iceland time.

Yet, I sense a strange disturbance in the Force tonight, as if in some (really) alternate reality, michael moore sits in front of his laptop in his underwear at the kitchen table eating peanut butter with a spoon whilst drinking cheap rum writing the screenplay for "America: My Bad. Why We Suck and You're Right For Hating US".

"Heywood, you've been drinking" you say (and you'd be right). But that doesn't make it less true. The non-congruent facts that moore doesn't drink at all, and out-weighs me by over 100 pounds (which, quite frankly, takes some work, 'cause I ain't exactly scrawny) still can not invalidate the parallel universe model.

A lot of people like to get worked up over michael moore. I am not one of them. As I have opined previously, I've been done with moore for almost 20 years now.

Yet still, moore and his ilk are out there (no pun intended).

I really have to sleep now. More tomorrow, I promise.


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