book review

I just finished "Great Expecations." I thought it would be better.

joke of the day

Why don't congressmen use bookmarks? Because you don't need them when you bend over pages.

cat's out of the bag

Local Congressman Tom Reynolds contacted Mild-Mannered Blogger! early Wednesday morning to grant me an exclusive interview. It seemed an odd request to me at the time, seeing as how two or three people read the blog, plus I’m not even in his district. Still, he wanted to clear the air.

“What about,” I asked. He replied it was in regards to his role in Rep. Mark Foley’s alleged sexual comments to a 15-year-old congressional page.

“Oh,” I said. “I haven’t heard a thing about that.”

Anyway, I do some research and head off to the office where he’s located for the interview. I walk into the room, and he’s surrounded himself with kittens.



Aw, lookie at the lil pumpkin! Yer so cute! Yer so cute! Come’ere and let me give you a big old hug!

Ahem.

I managed to pull whatever journalist balls I have left in me to hammer him with some questions, because the people demand to know his role in this scandal with a month left in the election cycle. But first, I politely asked him to have the bunch of kittens leave the room to discuss a human issue.

“Well, I’ll take your questions, but I’m not going to ask any of my kittens to leave the room.”

When asked where did the kittens come from, he noted that a number of them are from the community.

Just as I tried to get a third serious question out, this little fella found a ball of string and won me over.



Aw, lookie at whatca doin! Whatca got there? Whatca got there? Yer just a big bowl of cute, that’s what you are!

UPDATE: Shortly after posting this message, the Reynolds office called to blame me for photographing the congressman with kittens and making them a part of the story. They also said Democrats, who hate kittens, sent him the box of kittens, but Rep. Reynolds showed he is above partisanship by accepting the kittens. It didn’t make sense to me either.

Random aside of the day

You ever notice how the people that crow the most about the Bible are the ones that conveniently forget the vast majority of the book is about being kind to your fellow man and helping the poor?

Whenever you get a 'fly so fast it reverses time' gadget on your belt, let me know

How SUPERMAN THE MOVIE should have ended:

A love letter ...

Dear Bass Pro-

What’s up? I know it’s been a while, but I was looking at some old photos the other day, and I thought of you. It may be kinda weird to call somebody up out of the blue, but why does it have to be weird? We used to be friends, a long time ago, and whatever happened shouldn’t stop us from staying in touch with each other.

Remember the first time we went out together? We walked along the waterfront, and I pointed out the majestic waters of Lake Erie through the pillars of the Skyway. That was when you said, “Hey, this would be a great place to sell stuff to professional bassmasters!” That’s when I knew it was love at first sight. I don’t know what you were thinking, but I was dreaming of a life with you, imagining all the additional revenue that would have come from people eating in our restaurants and spending nights in our hotels, all because people would come in from all over the country to shop in a fishing store. Perhaps I misread the gleam in your eye, but I could swear you thought the same thoughts, imaging what a tremendous draw it would be when you put those tackle boxes on sale.

Oh, I remember that night fondly, and as we walked along the way, we had our first very special moment. You looked into my eyes, and I touched your arm as we shared our first non-binding memorandum of intent. I don’t know about you, but my socks were on fire. Don’t get me wrong, baby, I’ve had a lot of non-binding MOIs in my life. I’ve played the field, that’s for sure. But there was something special between you and I that night.

I thought it went so well, but when I called you to go out again, you always said you were busy. I tried to be understanding at the time, but to be honest, I didn’t get it. Were we on different worlds? Was it me? It wasn’t before long you let my calls go directly to voice mail. I thought you might have been busy, but when I saw that you were out with that tramp Memphis, my heart was broken.

Look, maybe you didn’t care for the time I briefly flirted with my ex-girlfriend, Seneca Casino, for a few weeks. Now there was a relationship that went horribly wrong the first time, but when you stopped returning my calls, she came around again. I have to admit, I was lonely, and possibly desperate. Perhaps it was the Labatt Blue talking. But I soon came to my senses when she was all like, “Fulton Street” this and “infrastructure” that. Look, I’m not into a girl that’s high maintenance. That’s why I thought you and I were so perfect for each other.

Maybe this is the wrong idea, but I thought maybe if I tried again, we can work things out. Look, I know you’ve been out with a bunch of other guys … it’s all over the papers over here. But I still think we can make it. The next time I see you, I’d love to get in a non-binding situation again, like our first date.

Actually, I’m not being honest with you. I like non-binding, but I want to take the next step. I want to bind you, baby. I want to bind you all night long. Maybe that’s a little forward, but I don’t care. I want things to go back to the way they used to be, and I’ll do whatever it takes. I heard the other guys say that you’re a little frisky, and that’s why I sent you all those public funds and tax incentives. But I still couldn’t get you to call me back. Heck, at this point, I’ll even bring down the walls of the Aud, where we shared our first date, because you’ve brought down the walls around my heart.

I know some people will think all of this is desperate, but not you, because you and I shared something special together for one night two years ago. I know you can see it in my eyes … it’s love baby, and all you have to do is pick up the phone.

Or, if that doesn’t work for you, maybe we can still be friends …

-Buffalo

None More Rock

If somebody were to ever ask me, “What video defines the 80s?,” I know what I would pick. Some would say Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” Others would be partial to Madonna’s “Material Girl.”

But really, for me, it comes down to a simple checklist of 80s clichés.

A NON-DESCRIPT WAREHOUSE LOCATION? Check.

WOMAN WALKING AROUND IN HIGH HEELS? Check.

MULLETS? Check.

ROCKING OUT TO THE AIR GUITAR? Check (BONUS-Entire band playing air instruments).

TIGHT JEANS? Check.

LEATHER SKIRTS? Check.

MUSICANS TURNING DRAMATICALLY TO CAMERA MULTIPLE TIMES? Check.



If anybody doubts that this is simply one of the greatest things MTV has ever aired, wait until you get to the guy playing the keyboard nailed to the wall about a minute-thirty in and try to keep a straight face.

You got to give it up for Steve Perry … he sells the shit out of this thing. I don’t think I’ll ever be not amused by this video. This was mainstream rock in the Reagan era.

Du U H8 Texting?

So I was reading the paper the other day, and there was this big front page cover story about how the kids these days are just texting and IMing each other. And I thought to myself, "Well, further proof that abstinence-only education programs just don't work." But then I read further and I realized I was thinking of something completely different.

Anyhoo, in this story, all the kids were saying that it's just so much more convenient to text their friend than e-mailing them. E-mailing, to them apparently, is a dead technology. And here I am, at 30, experiencing the second time I've ever felt old. The first time was when I found out my young teenage cousin was being taught by a guy I graduated high school with who had already been married and divorced. But that's neither here nor there.

So kids these days text each other to save time. To save time? Is it just me, or does anybody else lose patience with texting another person really quick? Even just typing "Hi" means you have to find wherever the h is on the phone and then press it twice ... because h is not even the first freaking letter on that button. It's g. And I've got no time for a g thing baby. So you have to press this button twice to get h. And here's the thing ... after h in "hi" is i, right? But you have to wait for the phone to recognize that you're absolutely sure you want that h, so you wait. And then when your phone decides, "Yes, this person really wants to use h here," then it moves to the next space so you can input an i. Because you can't input it beforehand, because then it will screw up your h, and then you have to start all over. You know why? Because the h and the i are on the same fucking button! That sounds like a lot to go through, doesn't it? That's just "hi," only the first word in 80 percent of conversations people have everyday. And it's two letters! Can you imagine trying to work out complete sentences on this thing?

It's especially problematic for people who like to think of themselves as, you know, intelligent. You feel a desperate need to write out the whole damn sentence and make sure it's spelled correctly and it's grammatically correct. And it's a bitch, because cellphones don'’t come with spell check yet. I know I'm not the only person in the room who uses that crutch.

But the kids, they have their own language. Instead of typing out "you," they put in a U. Instead of typing out "are," they put in an R. Instead of typing out "hate," they put in an H and an 8. I never understood that one. Is "Do" DU? They make up all kinds of abbreviations because they can't be bothered to type out they are laughing out loud. But you can almost see the logic here, because I'd imagine typing out sentences with single letters saves you a lot of time if you were writing to the illiterate.

But here's the thing that burns me the most. Obviously, as you can tell, I'm not a big fan of texting, so I don't do it. But some of my friends continue to text me. But when I want to do something that would save me time in a conversation (otherwise known as "call them right the fuck back"), they don't even answer the phone. Bastards.

Random aside of the day

I'd give you a demonstration, but you can't spell "demonstration" without "demons," and demons are simply against my religion.

Baby, you can't drive my car

So yesterday I was listening to Rush Limbaugh, who I like to think of as our dark lord and savior, and “America's Anchorman” opened my eyes to the media manipulation that's going on right in front of us. While the drive-by media like to talk about how many people are dying in Iraq on a daily basis, their “liberal bias” fails to mention another amazing statistic that has absolutely nothing to do with the Iraqi war, but it is a death count that far outpaces what's going on in the Middle East. I'm talking about highway deaths.

“Now, the number of highway deaths in this country, 43,443 in 2005, is 40 to 50 times our troop losses in Iraq and Afghanistan combined (editor-about 3,100). Well, ten or 20 times at least.”

Yes, now we're getting somewhere. There's a few thousand dead soldiers in Iraq. But there are tens of thousands dead on our nation's highways! It's pretty much the same thing! But one death count is a lot higher! But do you hear that on CNN? Hell, no, you don't! If this were an African country, those liberal commie pinkos would be marching on GWB's vacation ranch!

Wait a minute. Thousands dead … a subjective term to define a conflict of which there can be no conclusive winner … Folks, I think we should declare War on Driving. Those murdering weapons of mass destruction have had their free ride long enough. There should even be a color coded chart to help us out, letting us know when is a good time to be on or off the streets.



So remember America, while our liberal media shows their obvious bias by reporting on things like “Dozens dead in Iraqi bombings today” or “vice president shoots man in face,” remember who's doing the real killing.

Do you have to use so many cuss words?

NWS, as the kids say these days ...