I came home early this morn and went inta' th' kitchen ta' prepare my usual early mornin' pre-rack snack and I slipped on somethin' and WHOOMP fell on my ass!

I said, "Sheeit. Whut th' hell.....?"

and as I put my hand on th' floor ta' get up, I realised I wuz in th' middle of my cold slaw I told ya' about droppin' yesterday. I'm gonna have ta' do somethin' 'bout that soon. I can't be slippn' and slidin' and fallin' and careenin' every time I wanta' go inta' th' kitchen.

It's startin' ta' look like I'm gonna have ta' get in touch with Nicole. Last year Nicole charged me 120 bucks ta' clean th' kitchen, and a bargain it wuz too!! When she first walked inta' th' kitchen, she looked around and surveyed th' situation and declared,

"Well, I've seen worse!"

And of course I beamed with Pride at that. I said,

"Oh shucks, yer jus' sayin' that!"

When she got done, I wuz amazed at th' results. I exclaimed,

"Wow! It looks like ya've waved a magic wand over th' place."

She snickered and said, "Yeah, I been wavin' that magic wand now for over five hours!"

It wuz so great ta' be able ta' have guests over once again and not have ta' stand in th' doorway of th' kitchen while they walked th' hall ta' get ta' th' bathroom and warn them not ta' turn their heads for a sneak peek. One night a buddy who had been over before and knew th' rules went ta' use the facilities, and so I didn't get up ta' block th' view inta' th' kitchen and when he came back he said,

"Man, charley, yer kitchen is...."

And I said, "Hey ya' asshole. Ya' peeked! Ya' know yer not supposed ta' do that! I'm gonna have ta' ask ya' ta' leave."

And he's goin', "Hey Charley. Chill, OK? It's not that big a deal."

But I stood th' high ground. I said,

"But thas' where yur wrong amigo. Bonds of Trust are not ta' be broken. I'm serious. Now, hit th' bricks!"

After thinkin' on it fer a while, I decided that mebbe I had over reacted a bit, and so didn't hold it against him. Normally, I cn' carry a grudge fer so many years that one day, I can't remember whut it wuz all about ta' begin with. But we had been buddies fer a long time, so I figured I could be magnanimous. Th' next time he came over, he made a big show of coverin' his eyes as he passed th' kitchen doorway. Ha ha.

That wuz a while back. Now, I'm back ta',

"Nicole, Nicole, wherefore art thou? Come back. I NEED you." in a whinin' voice.

th' cap't

My ex-wife wrote ta' tell me that a more apt description of my cold slaw would have been, "tossed salad". Ha ha.

th' cap't

Today I saw a sign on th' back window of an SUV that said,

"My boss is a Jewish Capitalist"

And at th' risk of exposing my ignorance once again, I gotta' be candid with ya'; I don't have a clue whut that means. Do you? Is th' message here jus' too fookin' subtle fer a nitwit like me, or whut?

I do have a couple of vague suspicions, but, thas' all.

th' cap't

Awright, this is not my usual diatribe against th' stupid assholes that I usually rant about. Y'know, alla' those other morons out there. Rather, this is self-directed, aimed squarely at Moi!

See, like, yesterday, as I went ta' leave th' grocery store, my car wouldn't start. Although my gas gauge on th' Mustang doesn't work, I didn't think I wuz outta' gas. As it turned out; I wuz! I always keep an extra gallon of gas for this eventuality, cuz it happens quite often, but unfortunately, it wuz in my Olds at home. Sheeit. So I waited for AAA ta' rescue me.

While I wuz waitin' I got ta' thinkin' bout how many times this had happened ta' me in my life. I'm thinkin; at least a hundred times. This is no exaggeration. believe me. This is a very conservative guess actually. I've be driving fer 48 years now. That would be an average of twice a year. Sheeit. I woulda' considered runnin' outta' gas only twice in one year, well, I woulda' said, "It was a very good year."
I think 'I coulda' been a contendah' in having flats too. Fer about 25 years, I ran my tires til they blew out. Peoples would come in th' bar and say,

"Hey dude, yer tires are all bald and yer runnin' on th' wire threads."

Hey, I knew that! When one of 'em blew out, not havin' th' jack ta' buy a new tire, I'd jus' go and buy another used one fer four dollars. So, besides runnin' outta' gas a lot, I wuz at th' same time, havin' a lotta' flats too.

Dig this, this is a True Story from th' files. I'm not jivin' ya' one bit here. One time when I wuz a young and dumb forty-somthin', I ran outta' gas Three times and had Two Flats (same tire) IN ONE FUCKING DAY!! Fer real!! Oh, I wuz in a foul mood that evening, I cn' tell ya!!

At th' time, I wuz drivin this old beat up Chevy Nova, spewin' a cloud of smoke blindin' any drivers behind me, that only got four miles ta' th' gallon. As I recall, gas wuz bout a dollar a gallon. So, I'd buy a dollars worth ta' get me four miles ta' th' saloon, and then on th'way home, buy another dollars worth ta' get back ta' th' crib. I wuz too broke at th' time ta' have money tied up in gas, and besides, I never wanted ta' have much extra gas jus' in case I had ta' abandon th' car fer some reason. So lotsa' times, workin' those slim paramaters, I would miscalculate and therefore, be runnin' outta gas. Jackson Browne didn't have a thing on me when it came ta' Runnin' on Empty'!!

Today, I don't have that lame-ass excuse any more tho, cuz I can actually fill up th' tank now if I wanta', but I guess old habits die hard, cuz I'm still continually runnin' on or near empty.

So, like, today, I went ta' do my bi-monthly laundry thing. While I wuz loadin' up th' Olds...guess whut? Yeah, yer right! I ran outta' gas right there in my driveway. This made th' second time in two days. Ha ha. Some things jus never change! This time tho, it wuzn't much of a hassle, since this wuz th' car with th' extra can of gas in th' trunk. But still, sheeit. I knew I wuz low, but I didn't know I wuz that low; ya' know whut I mean?

After I finished my laundry, I came back ta' th' crib and wuz gettin' ready ta' enjoy some, like, gourmet cold slaw I bought yesterday, and accidentally knocked it ta' th' floor in a maneuver very reminiscent of that caper I told ya' about a couple of weeks ago when I dropped my tuna casserole on th' floor. This time, tho, not bein' drunk, I wrote it off and didn't partake. Whut in th' hell is wrong with me that I can't go inta' my kitchen without leavin' half my stuff on th' floor? Do other peoples go thru this daily or whut? Ta' hell with it, I'm not gonna mess with it. It cn' jus' remain there till Heaven scorches over fer all I care!

th' cap'm

P.S. Y'know, th' old Sunfresh in Brookside is now called Cosentino's Brookside Market and it's rilly nice, like a gourmet food store. But a tad on th' expensive side. In th' deli, where I bought my cold slaw, they had some beautiful Purple potato salad which I almost bought jus' fer th' color. It looked like th' kind of potato salad ya'd have on acid or somthin'. Man it wuz a righteous shade of purple! They also had some succulent lookin' baron of beef. It looked good too, ese. Kinda' pink, th' way I like it, but th' problem wuz; it wuz 19.99 cents a pound!! Cn' ya' dig that? Twenty fuckin' dollars fer a pound of beef!!

Man, th' Future is jus' comin' too fuckin' fast fer my taste!

I wuz jus' wonderin' concernin' that bottled water fer dogs; whut is th' difference between th' bottled water fer dogs, and th' bottled water fer peoples? In a pinch, could ya' drink that doggie water?

And if not, why not? If that bottled water fer th' dogs is better than tap water, why then couldn't ya' drink it too? Like, specially if th' doggie water wuz cheaper, but some how I don't see th' tied-sweater-round- th'-waist crowd gettin' involved in that, do you? I mean, like, whut if a rumor started that yer bottle wuz secretly loaded up with doggie water?

Whooo. I'm sure yer "coolness quotient" would drop dramatically, don'cha think? Ya' would prolly find th' 'hip crowd' edgin' unobtrusively away from ya', snickerin' all th' while, tryin' ta' put a bit of distance between ya', I'll bet. And ya' could hear th' barely concealed snide whisperings,

"He drinks Doggie Water!" followed no doubt by th' worst aspersion that could be levelled on ya',

"Omigod! How horrid!! I'll bet he doesn't lower th' seat either! Huunmph."

th' cap't

I saw a small article in th' paper today where sales of bottled water fer dogs are increasing. Normally here, somebody else would tell ya' sales are "skyrocketing" but I don't use that cliche. Ever! I refuse ta' say "skyrocketing" under any circumstances!

I always find it absurd that peoples will spend $1.25, or whutever it costs, for a quart of bottled water for themselves. Much less for their fuckin' dog! Whut kind of fucking moron would do that? Man, gimme a break, huh? Now, if ya' happen ta' be in a third world country, I could understand, but we're not a third world country, yet.

Say look, If ya' got too much money and are jus' lookin' fer ways ta' burn some, well sheeit, give it ta' th' dude standin' on th' corner who only jus' wants another fifth of MD 20/20! He'll get a lot more enjoyment outta' that, than yer doggie will outta' a bowl of mineral water.

Whut's happenin' with out canine youth? Is there some kinda' national health crises with them, as a result of th' tap water they've been drinkin' fer th' past 100 years? Are we jus' finally beginnin' ta' realise our drinkin' water isn't fit fer Fido even?

And speakin' of bottled water, I also wonder, like, if yer one of those who carry yer own bottle around: is it de rigeuer ta' also have a dumb lookin' sweater tied 'round yer waist? Or else, tied 'round yer neck, so that it drapes elegantly down, jus' so, on yer back? Whas' up with that anyway? Yeah, yeah, I know, it's jus' soooo fashionable, right. It's all 'bout bein' Cool in th' Third Millennium.

But sheeit, I tell ya', it always amuses me ta' drive thru th' Plaza on a Sunday morn and see all th' clones standin' round, swiggin' their bottled water, retying their sweaters, waitin' ta' get inta' th' latest "hip" joint. I guess next, th' Rhodesian Ridgeback set will be there, pourin' some mineral water inta' their doggie bowls. Well sure, ya' really wouldn't expect a Rhodesian Ridgeback ta' drink fuckin' ordinary tap water, would'ja? Of course not!

Peoples can be jus' so fuckin' stupid some times it makes ya' jus' wanta' hang out in yer closet. Thas' whut I'm doin', til it comes time ta' go out and get 'blotto'. I find that helps in dealin' with th' Idiocy surroundin' one.

th' cap't

Did'ja see where over 700 people were arrested in Ireland on St' Patty's day, 252 of them in Dublin?

This is a big change from th' past. Y'know, until jus' recently, th' Irish in Ireland celebrated St. Patrick's day rather quietly, it bein' mostly a religious event, with th' pubs bein' closed. Kinda' like th' way Italians celebrate St. Joseph's day. But, no more!!

Nah! Havin' seen th way th' Irish-Amerikans turned it inta' a huge drinking, brawlin', hell-raisin' holiday, I guess they decided ta' embrace that attitude with a vengeance. So, now St' Patty's day in Ireland has taken on an Amerikan flavor. I guess they're sayin'

"Hey, don't even try and out-Irish us, cuz bro, We're Th' Real Deal!!"

It's strange isn't it, that while most peoples in th' world revile us, on th' other hand, they all wanta' be jus' like us too. Hard ta' figure, eh?

th' cap't

I just read in today's paper where San Diego's Catholic Bishop denied funeral rites to a man who owned a bar and a dance club popular with gays. Oh horrors!

San Diego Bishop Robert Brom decided that no Catholic church in San Diego or Imperial County could provide funeral rites for the owner who was gay.

Chancellor Rodrigo Valdivia said the church's decision was not related to the owner's sexual orientation. "His business is adult entertainment, which is not consistent with Catholic teaching." Valdivia said.

Yeah right!! I suppose this sanctimonious prick of a Bishop would deny final rites ta' corrupt CEO's who bilked untold thousands of peoples outta' their life savings? Said behavior, I would think being, "inconsistent with Catholic teaching."

Whut about th' millions of Catholic married couples who regularly defy church teachings on birth control? Th' Pope has never wavered on th' Church's opposition to this, yet most Catholic families don't follow those teachings, but I haven't heard of any one of 'em bein' denied funeral rites as a result.

And then, of course, this is th' biggie; whut about th' priests of San Diego who fer decades abused th' young children entrusted ta' them? I would assume that behavior is also "inconsistent with Catholic teaching" wouldn'cha think?

I dunno tho, cuz considerin' how widespread th' practice is...mebbe not. Mebbe it is policy? But assumin' it isn't tho, I wonder if those priests will also be denied funeral rites in a Catholic church when th' time comes?

Y'know whut? personally, I bet they won't have any problem!!

th' cap't

P.S. Some body needs ta' put this Bishop out ta' pasture, or mebbe put him in charge of th' local Orphanage fer boyz. Y'know, some place where he could make his presence felt in a more meaningful way.

My buddy Gabby sent this ta' me. I jus' hope it doesn't inflame th' sexists fires in all you pigs out there!! Oink,Oink.

A sign in the bank lobby reads: "Please note that this bank is now installing new Drive-Thru teller machines enabling customers to withdraw cash without leaving their vehicles. Customers using this new facility are requested to use the procedures outlined below when accessing their accounts. After months of careful research, MALE & FEMALE procedures have been developed. Please follow the appropriate steps for your gender."

MALE PROCEDURE:
1. Drive up to the cash machine.
2. Put down your car window.
3. Insert card into machine and enter PIN.
4. Enter amount of cash required and withdraw.
5. Retrieve card, cash and receipt.
6. Put window up.
7. Drive off.

FEMALE PROCEDURE:

1. Drive up to cash machine.
2. Reverse and back up the required amount to align car window with the machine.
3. Set parking brake, put the window down.
4. Find handbag, remove all contents on to passenger seat to locate card.
5. Tell person on cell phone you will call them back and hang up
6. Attempt to insert card into machine.
7. Open car door to allow easier access to machine due to its excessive distance from the car.
8. Insert card.
9. Re-insert card the right way.
10. Dig through handbag to find diary with your PIN written on the inside back page.
11. Enter PIN.
12. Press cancel and re-enter correct PIN.
13. Enter amount of cash required.
14. Check makeup in rear view mirror.
15. Retrieve cash and receipt.
16. Empty handbag again to locate wallet and place cash inside.
17. Write debit amount in check register and place receipt in back of checkbook.
18. Re-check makeup.
19. Drive forward 2 feet.
20. Reverse back to cash machine.
21. Retrieve card.
22. Re-empty hand bag, locate card holder, and place card into the slot provided.
23. Give appropriate one-fingered hand signal to irate male driver waiting behind you.
24. Restart stalled engine and pull off.
25. Redial person on cell phone.
26. Drive for 2 to 3 miles.
27. Release Parking Brake.

Now. personally, I think this is jus' a bit over th' top, don't you? Ha ha. Like, fr'instance, rule # 23.

Gurlz I know don't conduct themselves in such an unseemly fashion. Y'know whut ahm sayin'!

th' capt

If yer one of those peoples who are envious of all those others ya' see drivin' round with their ribbons supportin' th' troops, and yer sayin' ta' yerself,

"Gee, I wish I had somethin' cool like thet."

This is fer you! My buddy Phil sent this ta' me. It's pretty cool. Checkit out.

www.supportourribbons.com

th' cap't

My friend, one Ms. Deborah, wrote me yesterday and told me how one of her gurl friends solved th' dilemma of raisin' and lowerin' th' toilet seat in her home.

Check this out; this is too much! This gurl has trained her mate to sit down when ever he had ta' use th' facilities. Ha ha. No jive. Solves that problema right pronto, eh! Cn' ya' believe that! He sits down ta' take a leak!! Ha ha. That cracks me up enuff ta' merit a “guffaw.”

However, there is another element ta' th' story. She did mentioned one caveat tho; it seems he's unable ta' find and hang on ta' a job, so she has ta' do all th' supportin'. So, now...that raises th' question: is he in fact, a giant WUSS? Or is he jus' very cleaver?

I dunno. Whadda'ya think??

th' cap't

At th' saloon this past Saturday night, this young guy I know only casually sat next ta' me and said. "Hey Charley, Long time; no see."

Like I said, I don't really know th' dude all that well. I wuzn't aware it'd been a long time since I had last seen him. I also didn't rilly give a shit, but I perfunctorily replied,

"Yeah, so, how ya' been doin?"

This wuz a mistake on my part cuz sometimes these purely rhetorical questions unleash th' floodgates and now comes gushin' out th' minutiae and trivial details of these peoples lives as though ya' really do wanta' hear 'bout it all. They have jus' been burstin' ta' tell some one and now with yer question...... yer th' Designated Listener!.

He proceeded ta' tell me he had jus' gotten outta' th slammer where he had jus' done 2 1/2 months. He said, "Omigod! Oh it wuz jus' horrible." In case ya' din't know, this is jail house slang for "it was a bummer."

"Ya can't begin ta' imagine how bad it wuz!! 68 days!"

He went on and on 'bout it. 68 days. Locked up. I wanted ta' tell him Martha Stewart had jus' done 5 months herself, and wuzn't whinin' half as much as him, but I refrained and let him snivel on. He said, while he wuz "inside" (Ha ha, more jailhouse sang) he had had a lotta' time ta' reflect on things. Bout his life, y'know, and so on. He's tellin' me that he's 24 now and not gettin' any younger. I wanted ta' tell him that there are close ta' seven billion peoples on th' planet and not a single solitary one of them is gettin' any younger either, but again I refrained.

He said his incarceration (did I tell ya', it wuz like, 68 days!!) had opened his eyes ta' a lotta' things, but he's still not sure where he's goin' from here.

He told me that now that he was, "finally out" (he'd been incarcerated fer 68 days ya' unnerstan') he had decided that he wuz never goin' back ta' jail again. During a brief intermission, while he paused ta' catch his breath, I told him,

"It's good ta' have goals." but he missed th' mockin' tone.

Now look here, I been patiently and politely listenin' ta' his petty-ass whinins' waaay long enuff, ya' dig, so when a gurl he knew wuz walkin' by and said hello ta' him, I used that distraction ta' disengage and started rappin' with a buddy sittin' on my other side.

He didn't miss my presence one bit though, cuz without missin' a beat, he wuz tellin' her now, all about his travails and th' crossroads he wuz at in his life. So, after a few minutes this gurl goes ta' leave, and she gives him a hug and sez,

"I hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for in life!"

Well, I happened ta' over hear that, and th' manner, th' tone, th' absolutely, ridiculous banality of it struck me, and without meanin' to, I burst out inta' an incredulous guffaw. My buddy, sittin' next ta' me, wonderin' whut my outburst wuz about, asked me, "What's with you?" And I ran th' scenario by him and included th'

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in life." line back ta' him. Ha ha. And we both got a good laugh over it again.

I cannot imagine someone in Real Life actually sayin' such a thing. This gurl musta' spent a good time of her life watchin' and bein' influenced by soap operanor somthin'. I mean, who in th' world could ever say such a thing ta' some one, with a straight face, without out bustin' inta' a giggle at least. I think maybe, in her own way, she wuz tryin' ta give him a little message of Hope, as in "I hope you.............." but I dunno.

Peoples never fail ta' amaze me with th' way they pick up and use th' endless cliches around them and pass that off as 'speech' cuz they can't express themselves any other way. If it wuzn't fer th' cliches, some peoples would be completely unable ta' carry on a conversation.

I mean, like, omigod! Know whut ahm sayin'.

th' cap't

P.S. A short time later a gurl we knew stopped by ta' chat with my buddy and I and at one time, completely outta' th' blue, I said ta' her, "I hope ya' find out whutever it is yer lookin' fer in Life."
and my buddy and I cracked up, and she said, "Huh? Whut th' hell are you talkin' bout Charley?"
And I said, "Nothin. Nothin. Y'know, jus' babblin' on as usual."
She said, "Charley, you're a nut!"
And I said, "Yeah, I know, I know, but I take great comfort in knowin' I'm not alone." Ha ha.
So boyz and gurlz, is it rilly necessary fer me ta' write my closin' line here?

Y'know, peoples who live in small towns get this false sense of security thinkin', like. "Oh, that sort of thing only happens in th' Big City."

But, they're wrong. Crime can happen anywhere, anytime. They are not immune! And the criminal element take advantage of their innocence.

Like, I saw in today's paper where in El Dorado Springs, MO authorities there are investigating the theft of a large garbage can stolen from the 200 block of West Twyman. I find it a bit amusin' that there in El Dorado Springs, they thought it a good idea to have an “east” Twyman and a “west” Twyman. But, whut the hell; it's their town.

According to the El Dorado Springs Sun, (kinda a catchy name for a newspaper, eh!), authorities there speculate the thieves may have stolen the large can to possibly knock over some one's mailbox.

So, if you happen to be a resident of EDS and you discover one morning that your mail box has been knocked over; look around and see if there is a large garbage can nearby. But of course, you know from watchin' the TeeVee not to touch anything. Do not contaminate the crime scene. Let the specialist from the El Dorado Spring's Criminal Investigation Unit handle it.

Even if there is no DNA evidence available, they will likely be able to determine the number of perps involved and their respective height, weight and color of eyes and any tattoo's they have from other seemingly innocuous evidence. They might even be able to determine the vehicle from which the can was hurled was a 1990 Mustang convertible from the loud Vroomin sounds neighbors reported hearin' right after bar closing hours.

In any case, just like their Big City counterparts, they have set up a TIPS hotline where they have posted a reward of one "Big Man Burger w/fries" at Evelyn's Diner for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrators. So, if you have any information concerning this, I would urge you to contact the authorities there. Help keep Amerika strong and our cities safe!

th' cap't!

A few days ago I lost my comb. It wuz one of those things they call a "pic", y'know whut I mean. So lately I've been improvisin' usin' a larrge heavy-duty barbeque fork. Don't laugh. It works jus' swell.

However, a few minutes ago I discovered a major flaw in this system. While I wuz carefully slidin' that dude thru my hair, I accidently lost my grip and it fell ta' th' floor with a clatter and landed jus' inches from my foot. Jus' inches, mind you! I thought ta' myself, "Um man, that woulda' hurt."

I remembered how difficult it wuz ta' explain how I had stuck a fork in my hand tryin' ta' eat some ice cream. Then I thought 'bout th' difficulty tryin' ta' explain how I managed ta' impale myself in th' foot with a barbeque fork. I got a mental picture of goin' ta' th' emergency room with this fork stickin' out of my foot and tryin' ta' explain how I wuz combin' my hair at th' time. Fortunately, disaster wuz averted. This time.

So, lissen here boyz and gurlz, if ya' mus' try this at home, a caveat; make sure yer wearing some industrial kinda work boots. Or else use a safety strap and tie that dude securely ta' yer wrist.

A bit of caution and common sense here could save ya' from an unpleasant experience.

th' cap't

I have received some things from some gurls regarding this issue. Apparently, it seems some gurls claim that, thinking that th' seat would be down, having trained their male living partners ta' perform this little trick by givin' 'em little lumps of sugar as a reward; they have gone inta' their bathrooms in th' middle of th' night, some whut ÒgroggilyÓ they say, and plunged themselves right directly down inta their toilet bowls, cuz there wuzn't no seat there ta' restrain 'em. It had been left in th' "up" position, thereby causin' 'em th' aforementioned unpleasantness.

This made them mightily angry. CURSES. TEN THOUSAND CURSES!! Now look here ya'll, lemme' be brutally frank here if I may. In my life, I myself have gone inta my bathroom literally thousands, and I mean thousands, of times, "groggily" ta' say th' least; I have bounced off walls and furniture and fallen on th' floor on my way ta' th' bathroom in th' middle of th' night, but I have NEVER...EVER.......NEVER......mind you, plunged myself down inta' th' toilet bowl itself so as ta' make contact with th' water there.

And tho I have never been known fer my grace or co-ordination, some how or other I have managed ta' avoid this pitfall.

Now, I'm not sayin' they're fibbin' or anything, but I'm thinkin'....they may be mistakin' a bad dream they had, with some Reality. Or, maybe they jus' got a hold of some of that bad brown acid, I dunno! But, I'm thinkin' this experience, real or imagined, has polluted their attitudes and generated a lotta' hostility towards th' guy gender in general. This is why, when gurls get together and one of 'em wants ta' put some guy down, she may say somthin' like, "He doesn't lower th' toilet seat." And this will trigger an instant chorus of indignation and they will all nod and murmur in common agreement, cuz now they all recognise jus' whut kinda creep this dude is. Nothin' more need be said

I mean, this guy might donate his weekends ta' help at th' battered women's shelter, but HE DOESN'T LOWER TH' SEAT! Ooooh! Pariah!

So, I'm thinkin' maybe gurls need ta' form some kinda national support groups ta' help 'em deal with this. TPA maybe. (Toilet Plungers Anonymous) A support group for those, who believe they may have inadvertently plunged themselves inta their own toilet bowls as a result of some oaf's Ignorance, or jus' plain lack of consideration. Gurls could get together and discuss their feelings. I think they refer ta' it as "venting". (th' releasin' of rage)

Maybe by "sharing" their common experiences they could purge themselves of their barely concealed hostility towards men folks in general, thus creating a more mellow Karmic Atmosphere everywhere.

And speaking of 'everywhere', I wonder tho how th' Europeans feel 'bout this? Do European gurls expect this kind of behavior from th' male guy Europeans? Like, do German chiks, fr'instance say, "Ach! Was ist los mit dem Neanderthals?" Or, is this a mainly Amerikan cultural thing?

And altho everyone knows they are pretty much "inscrutable," whut about those Oriental critters? I'm havin' some doubts 'bout a culture where women, not so very long ago, who used ta' walk behind their men as a sign of respect, would be raisin' very much of a stink over this

I'm pretty sure Talibanese gurls weren't doin' too much complainin' about it.

Well in any case, this "seat rage" controversy needs more attention. Ted Koppel oughta' look inta this.

Ya' know whut, I'll bet I could predict where Martha, and Paris and Ms. Manners stand on this. I wonder if anyone ever wrote Ann Landers bout it? I'll bet some body did and I can easily imagine her reply.

Well, enuff said. After all, when we got a George Bush ruinin', scuse me, I meant, runnin' our country, there are prolly more important things ta' dwell on, eh!

th' cap't

I came home a bit ago and decided against my better judgement, ta' fix myself some tuna casserole. So, I got an onion and started slicin' and dicin'. I put it in a plastic container which formerly held some baked beans from th' deli. Then I took some olives and sliced them up and put them in th' container. Then I took a green pepper and did likewise. Finally, I took a pickle spear and cut it in small pieces.

Then, I successfully boiled some macaroni with out incident and eventually added it ta' th' mixture. Then I added all my spices, y'know, salt, pepper, garlic salt, cayenne pepper, a bit of chili pepper, a taste of dill and stirred all these ingredients together very thoroughly. Th' only thing left ta' add wuz th' mayo and th' tuna itself.

And then..Disaster struck! SPLAT!! I still don't know whut happened, but some how I knocked my container off th' stove and it spilled all over th' floor. I stood there motionless fer a second; not believin' whut had happened. I had this stuff scattered every where! It wuz a mess I'm tellin' ya'. I flashed back ta' that time when I spilled a big pot of rice on th' floor and while tryin' ta' clean it up, fell backwards onto th' open door of my dishwasher.

Keepin' that in mind, I looked th' situation over in dismay. Whut wuz I ta' do? I didn't have any more onion, or green pepper. I didn't even know how ta' clean all that stuff up. I remembered th' rice fiasco ended in bruises and a broken dishwasher. I decided ta' proceed with caution..

Then I got an idea. I took one of my paper plates and cut it in half with some scissors and then carefully got down on my hands and knees and used one of th' halves as a scoop. I managed ta' salvage prolly 90% of whut hit th' floor.

Now, I want ya' ta' realise that my kitchen floor is not like th' kitchen floor ya' might see on a TV commercial. Let's jus' say my kitchen floor is rather dirty, and especially th' part surroundin' my stove from where it fell. But I wuz hungry, ya' know whut I mean? So I put th' whole mess in a colander and then ran some cold water over it fer a while.

Figuring I had prolly washed most of my seasonings off with th' dirt, I re-seasoned naturally. Then I added th' mayo and th' tuna and mixed it all together.

Fer all practical purposes it looked OK and surprisingly, it turned out rather well, all things considered. I did feel jus' a bit uncomfortable tho with each bite, tryin' not ta' think 'bout where it had been jus' minutes earlier, and so I used some mind techniques (I recited my multiplication tables) I learned when I wuz younger, ta' distract myself from whut wuz actually goin' on.

And so I wound up eatin' 'bout half of it. I'm wonderin' now, if on th' 'morrow, I will eat th' remainder, or maybe, in th' light of day, I might choose ta' discard th' rest? Quien sabe? Only time will tell.

th' cap't

P.S. Once again boyz and gurlz, ya' can see why th' cap't recommends ya' forestall those early mornin' hungers. They oft times can be, shall we say, fraught with unpleasant surprises..

My buddy Tommy wrote me a little while ago and asked how I could reconcile my earlier sarcastic comment about "Justice in Amerika" re: Martha Stewart, with my recent account of “beating” two charges against me in connection with my wreck where I said, "The System Works."

I told him that it wuz unrealistic of him ta' expect any consistency or intelligenced in th' bullshit I write.
After all, whut th' fuck do I know?

And th' answer ta' that my friend is blowin' in th' wind, and th' answer is; I don't know CACA!

th' know nothin' cap't

A friend of mine, one Ms. Deborah wrote me that she was herself, "embarrassed by th' silly-assed whinings of her counterparts" on this issue. A rather rare stand for one of her persuasion ta' admit ta', cuz, like, I know other gurl-type friends, who are otherwise intelligent beings, and yet when it comes ta' this issue, they get a "circle th' wagons" kinda attitude. It's as tho, ta' go with commonsense, would in some way be a betrayal of their sistahs' and th' Cause! And so they parrot-mouth th' "party line" even tho I KNOW their heart and intellect are not really there. Why gurls? Huh? Whyizzat?

Whut is it about this? I have some gurlz who write me that it's all about bein' "considerate of others". Others? Yeah, like, who others? Who 'xactly are these others they're rappin' about? Well, I know who this catch-all "others" refers ta'. And it's not every body out there.

It's not about me, or any other guy; it's about "other gurlz", cuz, like, I have never had a guy bitch at me before bout leavin' th' seat in th' 'up' position; so they must be talkin' bout bein' considerate of females. But, whut about some consideration fer ME, huh? Whut 'bout me and others of my ilk? Why don't we mreit th' same consideration?

When I go inta' a coed restroom and th' seat is down, rather than whimper bout it, I just raise th' damn thing. It's not like it takes a lot of heavy liftin' or anything. As a matter of fact, I don't even think about it, cuz it's not really a big deal, one way or th' other is it? I mean, I have never in my life bitched at some gurl who didn't raise th' seat when she wuz done.

"Hey yo Princess, ya' left th' fookin' seat down! Whas' up wit dat? Whut am I supposed ta' do now?

Sheeit"

Wuz she bein' inconsiderate of 'others' too?

Fer some strange reason, gurlz can do anything in th' world guyz can do with th' exception of just two things, and that is; lower a toilet seat and change a tire. I don't unnerstan' why th' Intelligent Designer didn't give 'em these capabilities when he wuz makin' this mess, but I guess he got distracted. Maybe when he wuz busy makin' th' firmanment at th' time?

Hey, but listen, speakin' of changin' tires, I gotta' tell ya' tho, a couple of years ago I wuz drivin' up this hill near my crib. There wuz about 6-8 inches of snow (snow; sometimes known as “white stuff”) already on th' ground and it wuz still comin' down real good. Ahead of me I saw some one changin' a tire! Wow! They were jackin' up th' front end of their car on this incline in th' snow! I wuz amazed that they would attempt ta' do that under those kinda conditions. Then I wuz totally flabbergasted when I went slip slidin' by and discovered it wuz a Gurl. No jive!! Sheeit. As I passed her, I hadda' honk my horn and wave in recognition of her feat. I mean, I couldn't imagine anyone doin' that under those kinda conditions. Man, I thought, that took some cojones!

But ya' know whut; th' more I thought 'bout it, th' less I respected her actions as bein' pretty damn gutsy. I finally came ta' th' conclusion that she jus' DIDN'T KNOW ANY FUCKIN' BETTER than ta' change a tire in six inches of snow on an icy, slippery hill in a snow storm! Ha ha

Awright, it wuz jus' a thought, OK? so don't be hangin' that "sexist pig' jacket on me.

th' cap't

I am so sick of listenin' ta' all th' crap 'bout Martha Stewart. How fuckin' ridiculous! Especially when they talk 'bout Martha and “prison” in th' same breath. In the last few days I have heard 'bout Martha in the "big house", the "pen", the "clink", the "slammer", the "joint". And "behind bars"! Sheeit!! Whut a joke!

"Behind bars!" Whut fuckin' bars are they talkin about? There are no bars there! There aren't even any fences. That place is known in th' Federal System as "Camp Cup Cake". Whut does that tell you?

Martha hasn't been Incarcerated. She' wuz jus' "Grounded" fer a while, y'know, but like, in a sorority house, not a prison. They have micro-wave ovens in their rooms, fr'chrissake. The “guests” have going away parties fer retiring staff. Ha ha. Yeah, sure! Well, yeah, y'know, jus' like in Leavenworth, Lewisburg, Atlanta, Marion or Florence, or any other federal prison, where th' "guests" there all would love ta' throw "goin' away" parties fer their favorite hacks too. Altho, rather than a nice floral arrangement, a shank in th' gut would be th' preferred gift.

When inmates get inta' a beef there at Alderson, it's not over th' drug trade or prostitution, or gamblin' or anything so mundane as that; nah. It's more likely ta' be over th' floral arrangements. And, hey, look here, sometimes, it cn' get pretty darned ugly too. Like, sometimes, they'll even resort ta' givin' each other dirty looks and stuff! it can get ta' that level. Oh, it's jus' awful. No kiddin',

And now she's under 'house arrest' fer five more months. Shudder. Whut a bummer, huh! Yep, she's confined ta' her 16 million dollar mansion fer five months. She can only leave it fer 48 hours a week. Sheeit!

It's jus' too much. Gimme a fuckin' break, will'ya! Damn! I know a guy who's doin' THIRTEEN FUCKIN' YEARS fer a non-injury, drunken accident. Course, he did flee th' scene tho, so I guess he got whut he deserved, eh!

This whole absurd sham is jus' typical fer whut passes fer "Justice in Amerika".

th' cap't

Th' following inspirational audio message is not th' kinda thing I normally send ta' peoples, so, keep that in mind. I don't usually like smarmy stuff like this, but should you be havin' a bad day, maybe these ancient words of wisdom will lift yer Spirit a bit. I hope so. Have a nice day.

http://culcom.net/~wave123/fyu.wav

th' cap't

OK, it's that time again. As ya' know, we've been here before several times over th' years. This thing with th' toilet seat has been buggin' me fer years. Up? Down?...whutever? This conflict has been goin' on fer as long as I cn' remember.

Peoples keep askin' me why I allways keep harping on this, and it's cus these gurls keep bustin'my chops 'bout it. I wuz jus' taken ta' task over this issue again a few nights ago. A gurl made some snide comment ta' me after I had finished usin' th' facilities 'bout my lack o' class. I retorted,

"Whut sweetie? Besides bein' mentally handicapped, are ya' physically handicapped too, cuz Princess, ya' appear ta' me ta be capable of lowerin' that fuckin' seat yer own little bratty self!"

She didn't' reply, expectin' I guess instead, an apology or somethin', which I cn' guarantee, wuzn't about ta' happen!

They whine, and moan and groan, and bitch when ya' don't lower th' seat for 'em as tho they're some delicate creature, who fer some reason. known only ta' themselves, find this such an odious task as ta' almost nauseate 'em. And this same person, who expects ya' do this for 'em, as tho yer their personal servant or somthin', may in fact be a po-lice officer, an iron worker, or a marine, or a boxer, fr'chrissake!! And yet, when it comes ta' simply lowerin' a toilet seat, they get all helpless and indignant and outraged, that some one didn't do this for 'em!!!

"Whut a creep!! That dude left th' seat up!!" "Eeew!" "Omigod, whut a jerk!"

And then, later on, they'll go home and grab their baby, who happens ta' be covered with Shit from head ta' toe, and pick them up and clean 'em up and wash 'em off and won't blink an eye at that??? I don't unnerstan'!!

A couple of weeks ago, upon emergin' from th' facilities, jus' fer grins, I came out and wuz loudly gripin' and snivellin' in a whiny, disgusted voice' bout th' inconsiderateness of th' previous user who had left th' seat Down....and thus, I wuz forced ta' raise it all by myself.

"Oh....Oh....Oh.....poor me! Eeek, eeek! Omigod! Omigod! Oh it wuz jus soooooo Horrible!! Omigod"

But hey, I wuzn't th' one who made a big deal out of it tho. It wuz those other peoples! Ya' know, those gurl peoples mainly! But not exclusively so; cuz, like, I had a buddy of mine tell me, "Yeah, but cap't, you don't have three daughters at home. You might have a different Attitude about it if you did!"

And I said,

"BULLSHIT! My attitude would be 'xactly th' same!! Th' only different Attitude would be; that none of my daughters would EVER be whinin' about some one else doin' somthin' fer 'em, that they were perfectly capable of doin' fer themselves."

They would never be comin' up ta' me and sayin', "Oh gee daddy, some nasty guy didn't lift th' toilet seat and I had'ta' do it all by myself."

Nah, that wouldn't happen.

Well anyway, in th' interests of Inter-Gender Harmony; bein' a reasonable person, willin' ta' negotiate and compromise, (thas' really not me. I'd rather stand on principle, but, oh well, I'm tired) I have lately been putting both lids down, see, so that way, th' next person, whether they be a squatter or a stander, are still gonna have'ta' lift at least one lid, possibly two, y'know, dependin'...but ya' know whut, I'll bet thas' not gonna end th' rancor. Th' Palestinians and the Jews will settle their differences first.

th' cap't

P.S. Oink. Oink

Y'know, some place, last week I happened to hear that song, "Cotton Fields". Do ya' remember that old folk song?

"Way down yonder
in Lou-is-i-ana,
Jus' about a mile
from Tex-ar-kana,
In those ol'
cotton fields back home"

Hey well, lissen here, ya'll, I've been ta' Texarkana, ya' dig, and I wanna' tell ya', there ain' no fuckin' Loo-ees-ee-ana any fuckin' mileaway! How many impressionable peoples do ya' think have heard that song over th' years and think Texarkana, which as ya' know straddles the Texas/Arkansas state line, is also only "jus' about a mile from Louisana?" I don't know 'xactly jus' how many miles it is, but 50 would prolly be more like it.

I don't know who wrote thet song, but they musta' slept right thru geography class cuz they don't know their ass from their elbow. Sheeit. "A mile from Louisiana"!

So if ya' ever happen ta' find yerself down in Texarkana, and decide ya'd like ta' see Louisiana, I'd strongly advise ya' not ta' walk that "mile", cuz ya'd be pretty tuckered out when ya' got there. I'd suggest ya' get on that big Grey Dog instead. And then, when ya' did get there; all ya'd see would be a buncha' cotton fields!! Ya've heard th' ol' expression before, "Ya' seen one cotton field; ya've seen them all." Well, trite tho it may be, it's true!! They're not real excitin'; take my word fer it, cuz I've been there.
I think that peoples who write those songs 'bout places should make damn sure they know whut th' hell they're talkin' bout.

Like, ya' wouldn't want some clown writin'

"If yer goin' ta Texarkana, jus about a mile from Louisiana,
be sure ta' wear some flowers in yer hair." or

"I left my heart in Texarkana,
jus' about a mile from Louisiana." No. No.

"Do you know the way to Texarkana?
Well it's jus' about a mile from Louisiana."

"Sweet home Alabama!
jus' about a mile from Texarkana?"

"Rocky Mountain high
jus' about a mile from Louisiana"

"Goin' ta' Kansas City.
Kansas City, here I come,
They got some crazy little women there,
And it's jus' about a mile from Louisiana."

See whut I mean? These irresponsible song writers gotta' remember that a lotta' folks look ta' them ta' provide a "worldview" since they're incapable of providin' their own, and when they get this kinda skewered version of things; well, it jus' fucks everything up! Ya' know whut I mean! Next thing ya' know, ya' gots some one askin' ya', and this happened ta' me,

"Yo, cap't, which is father south? San Francisco or San Diego?" Ha ha. No shit!

Course, ya' gotta' give some slack, cuz, like, this was a college student. I'll bet he could tell ya' approximately how far Louisiana is from Texarkana tho.

th' cap't

Some months back, ya' may recall when I drove my Mustang inta' a brick wall. And jus' as a little side note, I think you would have ta' say th' Mustang won too, cuz it still lives! (altho in truth it will never be th' same again considerin' it's horrible disfigurement) Whereas, th' brick wall has been hauled away brick by brick ta'...well, y'know, wherever old bricks go when they have been maimed; so put a big "W" in th' Mustang's column too. At th' time, th' authorities issued me two scurrilous citations. I wuz noticeably distraught. I told 'em' in a loud forceful voice,

"THIS WILL NOT STAND"

as they loaded up my body inta' th' paddy wagon fer th' ride downtown (some one needs ta' look inta' those accomodations) and th' Po-lice Officer said in effect, "Tell it ta' da' Judge"

So, I wuz down earlier this very morning to engage th' Criminal Justice System concernin' this matter, and as a result of some brilliant legalistic tactics by my counsel (th' arresting officer failed to show up for the second time in a row) I'm pleased to announce that th' System works.

Th' city, realising th' folly of it's ways and th' inherent Injustice of it's allegations, dismissed both charges against me. I am now free to pick up th' pieces, and move on with my life. This is whut is known as "closure". Ya've heard bout that before haven't ya' boyz and gurlz? I've been hearin' peoples rappin' bout "closure" fer years, and now I finally gots some myself! But, I can't help but wonder; how long does this shit last anyway? Is there a guarantee or warranty or anything? Who do I talk ta' if my closure wears off? Oh well, no matter, I'm jus' gonna' enjoy it while I can cuz right now, I'm feelin' pretty good!!

And ya' know whut; if this were a movie, I would be leapin' into th' air and clickin' my heels and yellin' out "Yahoo" or "Yip-eee" or "Hoo-ray" or some other similar bit of foolishness, but since I don't believe that anyone has ever actually done that in real life, I am content ta' sit here with a big shit-eatin' grin on my face. Thas' whut I'm doin' right now; sittin' here grinnin' from ear ta' ear. I wuz expectin' ta' put out some hundreds of dollars, and face other recriminations also, and instead, "Nada, amigos!!" Pretty cool, huh! Oh, Life can be sooo sweet, eh! Ha ha

th' cap't

P.S. Have ya' ever noticed how th' peoples who say things like, "Th' System works!" are th' ones who've jus' been exonerated. Those others, th' convicted ones; they whine and snivel 'bout th' Injustice of it all! I know; I been there, too. Ha ha.

I heard a real Shocker on th' news earlier this afternoon. I'm sure this will blow ya' away as it did me. I wuz drivin' my car at th' time and literally had to pull over ta' th' side of the road, while I absorbed and pondered th' implications of this sordid revelation. I wuz completely shocked and flabbergasted! by whut I learned.

It seems that someone discovered that low income families were not gettin' access ta' th' Internet ta' th' same extent that affluent families were! I ask ya', is this a Shocker, or whut!!

Yeah, they deduced that this may be because lower income families were not purchasin' computers at the same rate as their more affluent neighbors were! Cn' ya' believe that? Once again; blow me away eh!
They further deduced that this situation wuz creatin' an ever widening "Computer Literacy Gap"! Gasp!

Personally, and this is jus' my own opinion ya' dig, but I believe that as these peoples delve further into this sociological phenomena, they may discover that low income folks do not buy as many Mercedes as those other folks with their computers do either: evidently preferrin' instead ta' wheel about town in their rusted out 73' monkey-shit-brown Vegas.

And they might also find that poor folks don't take their holidays in the south of France, all that often; seldom makin' 'the scene' at Cannes. Fer some inexplicable reason, preferrin' th' environs of Branson, MO or some such similar place. Whut is with these peoples!? No Armani's, no Gucci. Where does it end?

Well of course, as we all know, "Po' folks jus' got po' ways!" but sheeit. Well, how else explain such boorish behavior?

It will be interestin' ta' see jus' whut other transgressions these "Minimum Wage Deadbeats" may be committin' right under our very noses. I mean, whut kinda' Amerikan consumers are these peoples anyway? It's peoples like these that stubbornly refuse ta' get on th' bridge (you remember that Bridge!?) with th' rest of us as we march boldly inta' th'

Third Millennium, that's holdin' this Great Country back, preventin' us from bein' all we could be. They whine and snivel that they need their money ta' feed and clothe themselves and their families, (well, boo hoo hoo, cry me a river, huh?) thereby leavin' their dwellings bereft of th' 21st Century tools they are gonna' need. One must needs ask, whut about th' children?

"Just where in the Fuck are their Priorities, anyway?"

I mean, I ask ya', whut kinda' parent would deprive their child a Macintosh, jus' so they could give 'em a peanut butter sandwich? SHAME. SHAME.

I dunno, I can't explain it, but thank god, in this Greatest of All Countries, we got a vigilant press ta' keep us informed on laggards such as these!!

the capt.

I saw this a while back and I like it.

Love Many...
Trust Few...
Always Paddle...
Yer own Canoe

the capt

"Better to go out with a BANG, than a sputter you swine!

th' cap't

P.S. Speakin' of epitaphs, I always wanted mine ta' read:

Th' Cap't 11/16/1941 - ??

"So whut th' fuck wuz that all about?"

Scuse me folks, but could someone 'splain ta' me why peoples are still comin' up ta' me and wishing me a "Happy New Year"? I have been ponderin' this for some minutes now, and if my calculations are correct, this would be Feb. 22nd, some seven weeks after the event. Whut th' hell!!

Whut, do peoples think that I might be so dense that I jus' didn't, "get it" th' first 200 times durin' January and February? Or perhaps they jus' want'ta let me know in an oblique manner that we are in a, "new" year now, fearin' perhaps that fact had gone unnoticed by me? — as tho I had jus' emerged from a cave or somthin'? Mebbe they're jus' tryin' to keep me current with whus' happenin'? I dunno.
I had so been looking forward to the end of the "holidays" and the endless exchange of Seasons Greetings. but, it seems...there is no end!

I cn' only await th' next upcoming holiday with dread and apprehension when peoples I don't even know will be wishing me a, "Happy St. Patty's Day". Peoples with names like Flores, Smith, Klein and Shultz, etc. etc. etc. will be comin' drunkenly up to ya', wishin' ya' a "Happy St. Patty's Day" in a loud aggressive voice, while slappin' ya' heartily on th' back. And ya' best be respondin' in kind, cuz they don't like it when ya' don't celebrate with 'em.

"Whas'sa matter with you? You don't like St Patty's day, or somthin'!! Ya' ain't even got any fuckin' green on! Whas up with that shit?"

"No, no, it's not that! It's jus' that I'm not Irish you see!"

"So whut ya' fuckhead!! I'm from Croatia and I'm celebratin'! Get with it, y'hear!!"

Well any ways....nuff' said.

th' cap't.

P.S. By th' way, how many peoples came up to ya' a couple weeks ago and wished ya' a, "Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day"?