If you're like me, you've spent the last week keeping your eyes peeled for Boner. And if you're like me you're probably a little unsure of what to do beyond looking out the window of the J Train into all those abandoned subway tunnels around lower Manhattan. And if you're like me you probably wouldn't even notice the missing unshaved Boner down there anyway because you'd just be wondering: "Just how in the hell did somebody get 400 yards into this tunnel and another 20 feet up a straight wall to make that fantastic street art known as graffiti? Someone should really make a movie about that!"
Anyway, it's possible that you may even be thinking: "Should I be praying for Boner?" Like: "Please God, oh sweet baby Jesus, let me see some Boner today!" Or: "Dear God, I promise to be good and not drink alcohol, use swear words or eat chocolate through the rest of Lent if you'll just let me find that handsome Boner staring me in the face when I wake up tomorrow."
And since everyone knows that prayers totally work if you just believe enough, you're probably generally pretty inclined to get down on your knees and pray for some Boner. But then again, maybe it's been a while since you were so scared of getting daddy's leather belt across the back of your thighs for any variety of infractions ranging from a bad report card, striking out in T-Ball or falling asleep and drooling on mom's good handbag during the Stations Of The Cross portion of Easter Mass. And along the way maybe you've spent more than your fair share of nights smoking your dope with some hack tweed jacket wearing professor, who's idea of a productive weekend involves sleeping with undergrads named Susie who are bound to spend the next four years wondering why he won't leave his wife, pontificating on the finer points of a bunch of topics you were sleeping and drooling through when you were a kid and were basically sleeping and drooling through for the low introductory price of $43,000 a year as a young adult. If that sounds like you or someone you used to love well, you're in luck and today is your lucky day because Kirk Cameron was once just like you except that he's still got a couple of million dollars that he actually earned and didn't just inherit from a grandparent who mysteriously fell off the porch swing:
And speaking of ways to get rid of your grandparents, the Feb 17th issue of the NY Times reported on "... an itinerant, footloose army of available and willing retirees in their 60s and 70s ... marching through the American outback, looking to stretch retirement dollars by volunteering to work in parks, campgrounds and wildlife sanctuaries, usually in exchange for camping space." So for those of you looking for a great escape from the clicking of dentures, changing of bedpans or simply having to remind your grandma that your name is Matthew, the one who was adopted when I was only this tall, you can find general information and the location of the campground furthest from you live by visiting KOA.com. And for those of you who want to insure that you're grandparents are pulling their wait and not just wasting their golden years polishing their "Let Me Tell You About My Grandchildren" bumper sticker, you can find information about actually owning your own internment camp err, campground by clicking here: http://ownakoa.com/
In the interests of full disclosure, the Basile family were regular "Kampers" at various KOA "Kampgrounds" throughout and up and down the greater eastern seaboard when I was a kid. My favorite was the one in Rhode Island because there was this German family that would camp next to us and because they were European the pretty good looking mom of the family would take her shower right there outside in the open air and she didn't even wear a bathing suit or anything. That was the best KOA "Kampground" I've ever stayed at. Most of the other ones were kind of boring and I spent a lot of time wondering when we would be going to get fried dough and Birch Beer at the beach. Also, it's important to remember that while you can help me pay my bills by making purchases by clicking on the convenient link to amazon.com in the bottom right hand margin of this page, you cannot purchase a KOA "Kampground" by clicking through the convenient link to amazon.com in the bottom right hand margin of this page because that link is only for things that are sold through amazon.com and will of course make me money if you buy them by clicking through to amazon.com via the convenient link in the bottom right hand margin of this page.
In unrelated news, the good people at the National Association of Manufacturers are diligently devising ways to speed the progression of the US population into their chosen field and onward to retirement age:
And speaking of faith and why you don't really need to know what you're talking about at all, it seems that there is a growing "corrosion of faith" towards "other areas of science" due in large part to growing evidence that the effects of global warming are having the exact effect on global weather patterns as predicted by scientists: http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/1700ab46-1dbc-11df-9e98-00144feab49a.html
And speaking of Casey Shea, leader of the soon to be playing at the Living Room this Saturday night at 9pm(ish) but the time doesn't matter because you should really just come for the whole night because I'm telling you to Casey Shea Band, today's quote of the day that was actually said a long time ago comes to us compliments of Milton Berle:
"You can lead a man to Congress, but you can't make him think."
In the interests of full disclosure, I'm pretty sure that Milton Berle is also the reason that the 80's rock band RATT got a crack at fortune and fame on account of the fact that he is, or was since he's dead now, the uncle of on Stephen Pearcy. And no I'm not looking up the accuracy of that statement because it frankly doesn't really matter does it? Anyway, in case you don't have an older sister who insisted on keeping cassettes of Out Of The Cellar, Invasion Of Your Privacy and Dancing Undercover on repeat while you were stacking wood in the basement of your family's modest ranch home with aluminum siding in picturesque (why did we ever have to move to Florida???) Somers, CT, I offer you the following glimpse into my formative years and why your no-chorus-having-5:16-narrative-about-some-metaphor-that-no-one's-even-gonna-understand-and-doesn't-even-have-a-memorable-guitar-solo makes me wanna stick a broom stick in the spoke of your Huffy.
(In the interests of full disclosure, the kid in the Huffy video isn't me. We couldn't afford a digital video camera in 1985 because the damn taxes in CT were too high.)
And speaking of torture, in an article highlighting the capture of one Mullah Abdul Ghani Baradar, the Big O has deftly managed to at once stay true to his campaign promise of No New Torture and offer further evidence of the benefits of his Masonic sympathies. Upon learning that "... Pakistan was leading the interrogation of Mullah Baradar ..." and that "... The conditions of the questioning are unclear ..." and further being reminded that "... in its first week in office, the Obama administration banned harsh interrogations like waterboarding by Americans, but the Pakistanis have long been known to subject prisoners to brutal questioning ..." Dick Cheney replied: "F#@%ing genius."
Mwah!
M
P.S. In today's episode of "Next Blog" ...
P.P.S. You can learn more about this woman ...
P.P.P.S. By clicking here ...
P.P.P.P.P.S. You can learn more about all the new friends that NATO is making over in Afghanistan ...
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. By clicking here ...
