joe dreck
July 30, 2007

Joe Dreck, the Captain, remains committed
to find something he doesn't know.

Subject: Amerikan Culture; Envy Of Th World
Saturday, July 28, 2007 4:26 PM

Well it's really no mystery why every one else in th world wants to be jus like us. I mean, jus look at this past year! First, we had Anna Nicole, then Paris, and now we got "The Adventures of Lindsey Lohan". Whooooie! Jus how much fuckin excitement can can one absorb in a year?! And th beauty of it is; it's not even over yet!

And all th rest of th world wants to be jus like us. We generate so much Jealousy, that, like, some peoples jus wanna kill us fer it they get so gosh darned mad about it. They don't got nothin like this in Baghdad, thas fer sure. And thas why they wanna kill us. It's nothin but "Jealousy Gone Wild". (this is sneak title preview of new "reality show" concept I'm currently pitchin) Those Muslimic peoples don't have stuff like this to distract them from th fact that they got no drinkin water, electricity, or schools or SUVs, or Big Macs y'know, stuff like that. Ergo, they feel left out and neglected, so they take it out on th messenger.
I think if Th Great Leader would export some of these kinda things like this that make this,

"The Greatest Country In The History Of Th World",

Well those folks might feel more kindly towards us. We could ferget troop surges, etc, etc; bring our boys home, and send em Paris and Lindsey and others of their skanky, spoiled-brat ilk instead. Let them try and solve those kinda problems. Mebbe then, they would realise that bein NUMBAH ONE isn't necessarily th Paradise they thought it was. (and there ain't no 71 virgins here either) Mebbe then, they would develop a bit of much needed Compassion and Humility.

Oh well, I know, I know, I'm wastin my time as usual, cuz, like, Th Great Leader nor his string puller, Dickhead Cheney, don't listen to my counsel anyway. I might as well be pissin in th wind fer all they care.

Well, anyway, I'm so excited and curious as to what kinda counter measures Paris is gonna take to win back her crown from this young Lohan upstart. I think a bold move is in order. She's gotta take some action soon. I mean, that Lohan chick jus turned 21 and Paris is already 26. Startin to get kinda creaky, know whut I mean. Mebbe a stolen tape of her havin sex with th Winetonka Middle School football team might get her back on top, so to speak. He he.

In any case, both of em need to keep a sharp eye out over their shoulders, cus this little Dakota Fanning chick could be th next big thing to totally fascinate us fer a few weeks. Jus consider her name by itself. Dakota Fanning! Thas got built-in buzz factor already. A few well publicized tantrums on th set, allegations of an affair with a couple of female co-stars, an arrest fer ridin her bicycle while intoxicated, a stint in Juvie; sheeit, who in th hell is Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan? Huh, who that?

th cap'm

Subject: Th Gall, Th Audacity, Th Fuckin Arrogance!
Friday, July 27, 2007 3:20 PM

I read an article in th Business section of yesterday's paper which left me sputterin in rage and frustration! Two high level executives from Exon-Mobil and Shell Oil testified before a Congressional Committee that it was fair to sell consumers "hot fuel" even tho th energy value of a gallon of gas drops as th temperature rises.

This issue gained attention thru a series of articles in th Kansas City Star last year examining th implications of how fuel expands and contracts dependin on th temp.

Quoting th VP of Shell Oil,

"Shell does not believe that th American consumers are harmed in any way by not having temperature adjustment at retail dispensers."

He sez this in spite of th fact that fuel IS adjusted for temperature at th wholesale level and at all other points in th energy supply chain. Jus not fer th fuckin peon palooka consumer. That GOUGE is saved fer them. Them bein us!! Like, you and Me!

Check this, it has been estimated that th sale of gasoline hotter than th industry standard of 60 degrees costs US consumers 2.3 billion dollars a year. Does this help explain how these bloodsuckin bastards are makin record profits boyz and gurlz? Consumer groups have said that can average out to 3 to 9 cents a gallon, and in th summer it can be as much as 30 cents a gallon.

But th oil execs said that if fuel volumes were adjusted at th pumps fer temperature, CUSTOMERS WOULD JUST BE CHARGED MORE TO MAKE UP TH DIFFERENCE!!

Ha ha Th fuckers!! Ya can't beat em and they are fully aware of that too. See, they're not about to give up that gravy train loophole jus cuz we found out about it. They're sayin to us,

"Go ahead you silly gooses, adjust th volume at th tank. Ha ha. Big fuckin deal!

We'll jus jack up th price! Then, whadda'ya gonna do, start takin th bus?! We don't think so! Hey, looky here, we are th Oil Industry! Ya dig! Ya need us!! Jus like th Pharmaceutical Companies, ya can't live without us. You mooks are our captive audience; that means we can do anything we damn well please, charge ya anything we want, thumb our noses at ya if ya don't like it. And if ya don't like it, sheeit, why don'cha write yer congressman? hehe Yeah go ahead, see how much good that does ya, cuz that dude's been in our pocket since forever!!"

Well, th good news is; accordin to th article, plans are bein made to study this problem further, maybe even by th end of th year.

"This committee will continue to delve into this matter. This issue is important."

Thus saith Dennis Kucinich, chairman of th committee. Whew! I feel better. Pesky problem solved. GODDAM, their flunkys are goin to look into it further.
Damn, but it pisses me off!

th cap'm

P.S. Ya know those two oil dudes had to be pissed at havin to go thru that whole charade, when they had to postpone their morning tee off time, jus to take part in th dog and pony show. But, sheeit, it's all part of th farce, and they don't get paid untold millions of bucks a year jus fer whistlin Dixie ya know.

Subject: One Person's Response To My Efforts To Aid My Fellow Humans
Monday, July 23, 2007 4:41 PM

Mi amigo, who goes by th nom de guerre, Stag Fury, wrote me about some of th consumer tips I put out from time to time. He used th word "weird" to describe my hints, and also to characterise my own damn bad self. I thought this was a poor choice of a descriptive word to portray my efforts. One can only muster a certain magnanimous compassion for another with such tunnelled vision; for one who is not able to see th Big Picture as it were. One can only shake their head, and tsk, tsk th offender.

Y'know boyz and gurlz, I don't do this fer th Almighty Greenback Dollar, y'dig. There is no recompense fer me, other than a sense of Mission Accomplished, followed by th occassional standing ovation. After all, we all have a "mission" in life, eh, and Fate decreed this one fer me, and I accepted it without qualm.

And so, when speakin o' my consumer tips, let's all keep in mind, bein Guru/Seer/Visionary, involves a lot more than explainin,

"Th meaning of Life and Everything!!"

T o th un-Enlightened clodhoppers who comprise th Amerikan masses. Sure, thas all nice to know and everythin; and while it satisfies certain inherent questions all Homo Sapiens have, and I'm not namin names here, cus all ya homos know who ya are, (aliens need no respond) but still, they also need everyday practical stuff to get em thru th long, arduous days.

Thas where th kind of practical advice I give out from time to time can be of great assistance in helping em "cope" with th world around em. A world which bombards em daily with complicated, multi-faceted issues, like, jus fr'instance; take th dithpicable treatment of our Royalty, y'know, th horrors our own Princess Paris recently endured.

Or th abominable treatment of Th Great Leader, who is only tryin to bring Peace, Harmony, Democracy and Big Whoppers to th less fortunates of th world. He is th embodiment of th loving, but stern Father, who must impose a certain amount of Death and Destruction oh his wayward chirrun, fer their own good, y'unnerstan, in order to do what is Right fer em, yet he endures scurrilous attacks daily fer his efforts. But he does not shirk his Duty. He stands stalwart. He "stays th course" no matter what. So, I feel his anguish as I empathise with im, cus, like myself, I must bear a similar burden in my own efforts. Sometimes it's thankless task, yet we push on!

So, ya see, I am Every Mans Seer! Well, perhaps in this more politically correct environment, I should say "Every Person's". I am th General. All-around, All-purpose Visionary!

From meta-physics, to feta cheese! And everything in between!!

yer humble and willin servant,

th cap'm

Subject: Safety In Th Bathroom
Sunday, July 22, 2007 4:36 PM

(In his quest to do his part to help keep Amerika safe, th cap'm offers up this bit of Wisdom. There is a lesson to be gleaned here)

I have a hand held mirror in th bathroom which was about 14" x 14". I say "was" cuz thas what it was before I dropped it and broke it initiatin my next seven-year period of bad luck. Sheeit, jus when I was gettin out from under th curse from th last mirror I broke; now this. No matter how hard I try, Dame MisFortuna jus keeps pullin me back in.

Now, this mirror is not in a frame or anything, it's jus a thin glass mirror, and when it hit th floor, th bottom edge broke off leavin a very jagged edge with one reely sharp point.

Altho I'm not a vain person, I use this mirror to check th brim on th backs of my hats to make sure they are not deformed and present a smooth even angle. I always have th brims turned down uniformly all th way around th hat. I don't like th rear brim turned up like so many rookie hat wearers do. So, I don't like it when one part might be a little lower than th other. It looks awkward. I like symmetry. To my way of thinking, that looks un-Cool!

By th same token, tho I wear it low to th brow, I never wear my hat at what is often referred to as a "jaunty" angle. Th kind of 'look' ya might see in a '40s noir detective film. That is not for me, regardless of whether it is one of my white Panamas or my black, felt Fedoras. I check with my small level, always makin sure th bubble remains between th lines. Some peoples don't pay attention to th details, but I do. I don't apologise, thas jus th way I go.

OK, so, anyway, like, knowin that I dropped this mirror once before, I know it could happen again, right?! So, what I've done, and what I suggest ya do, if ya should be operatin with a defective lookin glass too, is; I taped a small handwritten message in that pointy, jagged part on th bottom of th mirror that sez,


That way y'see, I'm reminded of th dangers involved each time I utilize it. I find myself focusin on maintainin a good solid grip at all times, becuz right there in front of me is that warning. And so far, I haven't lost any appendages due to careless and inattentive handling.

And ya never can tell, it might also protect me from a law suit, if one of my guests, checkin out their angles, should happen to lose a big toe cus they lost concentration fer a sec.

Y'know, now that I get to ponderin it some more, I prolly oughta say somthin bout not usin it when takin medications or boozin and dopin it up. Mebbe a warning against unsupervised chirrun havin access, mebbe a note about pets, or elderly peoples whose grey matter have prematurely gone on vacation.

Hmmm, y'know whut, th more I think about it, th more I'm thinkin I'm gonna have to give this whole operation a bit more thought. I'm thinking mebbe I didn't think this thing thru propperly.

Whadda'ya think?

th cap'm

Subject: Another Consumer Tip From Th Cap'm
Saturday, July 21, 2007 3:40 AM

Y'know, I often times have peoples recognise me on th street and accost me, like thusly,

"Gee, I know you! Yer th Cap'm aren't ya? Seer, Visionary, Gourmet Chef and Consumer Consultant and so on and so forth, aren'cha?"

And I'll reply, like, in my humble fashion,

"Yes, I am He, of whom you speak."

And they'll say,

"Gosh Cap'm, can ya help me out, cuz, like I got a real problema? I'm jus wonderin if ya could recommend a good brand of dishwashing soap? Like, whut do yew use? And would ya mind autographin my forehead too while yer at it. And I'll take yer response off th air."

No kiddin, ya'd be surprised, I'm sure, how often this happens. Well, I always like to tell em this little anecdote to illustrate my choice of DAWN, and th reason why I recommend it. I first became a Dawn convert back in '99.

It wasn't like a blinding flash of revelation, or anything quite as dramatic as that. It was rather, a more mundane event, but enlightening still. At that time, there was a news story about a truck, which had overturned in Cleveland, Ohio, spillin a load of grease all over th highway, forcin th authorities to close th road. They evidently tried everythin to clean it up, but, to no avail cuz th road stubbornly remained slippery and greasy.

This went on for several days. Finally, th peoples at DAWN donated $12,500 worth of dishwashing soap, which was applied and th road was cleaned up. And they all lived happily ever after.

I had read this account in th paper, while I was down there by th Piggly-Wiggly, which incidentally I always thought was a great name fer a supermarket, altho I also thought th Piffly-Wiffly had a nice ring to it too, and I also liked...well never mind, some other time perhaps.

OK, OK, so I read this jus prior to doin some shopping, and it jus so happened that dishwashing soap was on my list, so, based strictly on that account, I picked up some Dawn instead of the usual DOVE.

Looky here! I figured, if it would clean up a highway, it oughta be able to take care of my dishes. Verdad? And, I am pleased to report, it does! And quite nicely too, thank you. So, the next time yur standin in front of the dishwashing section of th store, scratchin yer head, tryin to decide what kind of product to buy? Remember this,


Repeat this mantra several times to your own damn bad self. Drop into th Lotus Position # 9 and meditate on Dawn and th Oneness of it all. See th Connection with everything. Then, go ahead and make yer decision. Good Luck. I know you'll do th right thing.

th Cap't

P.S. You'll beam with Delight and Pride and feel th vindication of yer choice when yer dinner guests compliment ya on th gleaming Purity of yer flatware. Jus give em a sly, knowin wink and lip-synch th word....DAWN.

Subject: '50s TV. Th Early Years. Hoppy and Th Gang
Monday, July 16, 2007 9:12 PM

I remember back around 1950, I was livin in Dayton, Ohio, and was in th fourth grade. There was this one nerdy kid in th neighborhood named Max Ross whose family were th first ones to get th TeeVee. Their TeeVee was about four feet wide and four feet high, and th screen was either five or six inches. It was kinda like bein at th movies cus all th shades were drawn, and blankets draped over th windows cus early TeeVees weren't very bright. His mom would fix snacks fer us all to eat, and it was a great way to spend Saturday afternoons. Fuck a bunch of runnin around playin baseball or some shit, cus this TeeVee gadget was pretty fuckin cool,

Th thing about Max was he was Jewish, a Christ Killer, y'know, and we'd been warned many times about those kinds of peoples at Holy Rosary where we all went to school. We even had discussions about how big a sin it might be to associate with somebody from that tribe, and to actually go in their house. So, fer a long time no body liked him, but oddly enuff, we jus misjudged him. We didn't realise jus how fuckin cool he actually was. We all felt bad about th way we used to treat him, so to make up fer our earlier transgressions, we stopped beatin him up fer killin Christ and we all hung out at his crib on Saturday afternoons, and while watchin Westerns all day, allowed him th pleasure of our company, cuz as I said, he was actually a pretty nice kid.

Right up until th day that day Robin Cunningham, my fellow fourth grader at Holy Rosary, who lived next door, got a TeeVee. It was nine inches! We all said, "Fuck th Christ killin Jewboy!" or words to that effect, cus none of us had ever heard that word before, and resumed callin him all th Jewish cuss words he had taught us.

Now fer those of ya who would hang th Racist jacket on us, keep in mind we were 9 and 10 years old and only followin th teachins of Holy Mother th Church and didn't know any better. Remember, this was th '50s and it wasn't until th mid-'60s when th Church formally withdrew th charge of "Decide" against th entire Jewish peoples as a whole. We were jus Young Soldiers Fer Christ doin our duty, so....if yer out there Max, um, sorry bout that, hope we didn't damage yer psyche too much, and mess with yer self-esteem too badly. If ya want, ya can punch me in th shoulder hard as ya can.

Well, anyway, I remember one of our favorite shows was Hop Along O'Mally! Did any of you guyz ever watch Hoppy back then too? He was this Irish cowboy who always wore a four-leaf clover in his rumpled cowboy hat.

His horse's name was Clancy, and he fell down a lot. Whenever Hoppy went into a pub, he always got a bucket of beer fer Clancy too. Clancy used to tease Hoppy a lot, like, when Hoppy came leapin up behind him and put two hands onto his rump and attempted to launch himself into th saddle, Clancy would suddenly bolt ahead leavin Hoppy sprawlin in th dust. Then he'd stand there waitin to see if Hoppy was gonna try again. (origin of Lucy pullin th football away from Charlie Brown at th last second)

Hoppy never ordered his beer by th glass, y'see, but instead always ordered a bucket of Guinness. That way he didn't have to waste a lot of good drinkin time waitin fer th barkeep to pour him another glass.

Hoppy was always gettin into fisticuffs with hooligans in th taverns tho, cuz he had a bad habit of referrin to every one as "darlin", and some hombres took umbrage at that. Like, he might say,

"Darlin, if ye don't be mindin standin so close as ye be reekin' of th bog." and th cowpuncher would say,

"Jest who in tarnation yew callin 'darlin'?"

and would throw a haymaker right square into Hoppy's jaw, and ol Hoppy's face would light up and he would break into a big evil grin, and spit into his hands and say,

"So, it's a bit of th mixin it up ye be lookin fer, eh?"

and crack th cowboy a good one, and th rumble would be on, with lots of broken chairs and tabes, and finally with both of em flyin thru th window out into th dusty street, and when it was over, Hoppy invariably said,

"So darlin, what say we share a bit of th grog together, ay?"

And, arm in arm, they would march back into th saloon fer some comradely drinkin. Invariably, as Hoppy got completely soused he would do a rendition of "Danny Boy" and by th time he finished there would be nary a dry eye in the joint.

And in every episode, Hoppy would meet some young lassie who's ranch was about to be foreclosed on cuz th dude who lived next door, who was usually known as, "Black Bart", cuz of his penchant fer wearin all black ensembles, wouldn't allow her cattle to th only water supply around. Poor young Iris O'Reilly, would plead with Hoppy to help her outta her plight, and he would say,

"There, there, dearie don'cha be worryin yer pretty lil heart out. Hoppy will take care of everythin now. Don't be afrettin on me."

And usually on th day of th hearing, when Hoppy was supposed to bring th critical evidence in to support th young lassie's case, and save th ranch, th magistrate, tired of waitin, would rule in Black Bart's favor. Meanwhile, Hoppy wakin up in th barn with an empty bottle of Wild Irish Rose cradled in his arm, would rush to th court house, only to meet th young Iris, with tears streamin down her face, headin to Bart's Goodtime Joy House to turn her first tricks of th mornin.

And Hoppy would head to th saloon where he would get rip-roarin plasterd and tell one and all, over ad over,

"Aye laddies, twas a sad day indeed. There be no Justice in this wretched place. Twould never have happened in th Emerald Isle, I cn tell ya that fer sure!"

And Hoppy, after downin numerous shots, would take his leave, and in typical fashion, would run up behind Clancy and attempt to leap up in th saddle, and of course Clancy would bolt ahead leavin Hoppy sprawlin in th dust. Eventually, Hoppy would manage to gain his mount.

Invariably there would be two galloots standin there watchin it all, chewin tobbaccy and one would say to th other,

"Say Clyde, looky here, jus who was thet there hombre anyways?"

and Clyde would reply,

"I dunno Hoss, but he gimme this here four-leaf clover."

"Why in tarnation wud he do sumpin lak thet?"

and Clyde would say,

"Ah don rahtly know, Hit sure beats th shit outta me," and spit a big gob in th dust.

And as they stood there, shakin their heads in consternation, off in th distance ya could hear th sound of hoofbeats and a slurred voice ring out,

"Hi ho Clancy, Away!"

and Hoppy would ride off into th sunset to another town, another young lass in distress, another bottle of whiskey, another exciting episode of "Hop Along O'Malley".

Man, those were th good ol days, eh!!

th cap'm

Subject: Another Example Of Co-incidence
Monday, July 16, 2007 1:55 AM

OK. writing bout those co-incidences reminded me of this story. This happened some where around '80-'81. I was livin with a couple of guys, and like a lotta times around that period I wasn't workin so I hadda lotta time on my hands. hmm, sound familar?

So one afternoon I was lyin around and readin th dictionary. One of my roomates had jus bought this that day to help resolve some of th many arguments that erupted over some of our "contact scrabble" games. And I refer to them that way barely in jest, cuz there had been actual combat before.

Like, fr'example, I'll tell ya, I am still pissed to this very day over an incident, (I'm pissed right now) when peoples at th board let my buddy's gurlfriend, who was always my biggest threat, get away with addin a R to Beige to make a new word!! Beiger. Sheeeit, Fuck! Beiger? BEIGER? Are you kiddin me!?

"Whut th fuck are you talkin bout?" I screamed. "Beiger? How in th fuck can somthin be more beige than beige? It's a mixture of colors to begin with."

Well anyway, ya jus think about it and see whut conclusion ya come to? Our "discussion" went on fer prolly twenty minutes and got reely heated. We were all standin now, and screamin, and then they were bitchin cus I wasn't workin, haha ya know how things can get off subject sometimes, eh? And I was pointin out to them that they were a bunch of ignorant mutherfuckrers, and it was goin on like that, and finally everyone, includin peoples who weren't even playin, ruled in th favor of "beiger" and gave her her points, at which time I upended th board and threw it across th room.

Of course this didn't go over very well. So, then peoples were restrain me and my bud both, lest we rend each other limb from limb.

OK, so.... back to th story, I'm lyin there readin th new dictionary, and decided to check it out to see how current it was, so I looked up "googo.". Aw'right, keep in mind, this was many years before th term "google", which every one knows today, but th word googol was a mathematical term to express th number 1 followed by 100 zeros. Not very many peoples back then had ever heard of this word. Th mathematician, a guy named Kayser, who came up with it had asked his young daughter to name this concept and she came up with googol.

Jus as an aside, this is a big number kids. To give ya an idea how big it is, at th time, it was estimated that there were maybe 1 to th 86th power atoms, (atoms mind you) in th entire universe, as we knew it then. And a googol was 1 to th 100th power.

So, I found it there. Th definition. Cool! And then I noticed th word directly beneath it was, "googol-plex" which I had never heard before. A googol-plex was defined as th number 1 followed by a GOOGOL of zeros. Wow, can ya dig that!? Considerin how big a googol is, now THAT is one big fuck of a number, eh!!

And since I was jus browsin around anyway, th word directly beneath googol-plex was "goo-goo". Maybe ya remember that from yer Am, History. A goo-goo was defined as, "a member or advocate of a political reform movement".

So that very night we were engaged in another battle. (game reely doesn't quite catch th spirit of th thing) And I made th word googol, no shit!! And as soon as I laid it down I knew exactly th firestorm it would bring. This was only maybe a week after th notorious "beiger incident" as it became known as. I sat very calmly and said that it was definitely a legitimate fucking word and my buddy sez,

"Bullshit! We'll see!"

and got out his brand new dictionary, which had only barely been used. (by myself earlier in th day) Ha ha And when he looked it up and saw th word there, ya shoulda seen his face. Ha ha Crestfallen best describes it. So, tryin to save some face, I guess, he sez,

"OK, OK, ya get th word but yer jes lucky, cus ya don't have any idea what it actually means."

And I sat there with, I'm sure was a smug, self-satisfied, superior look on my face, at least thas whut I was goin fer, and I said,

"googol, a mathematical concept where th number 1 is followed by 100 other words, ten to th 100th power."

This was almost exactly whut it said. So he's starin at th definition and he sez then,

"OK, hot shot, so what is a googol-plex?"

And I answered again in that supercilious tone, much like a bored prof might use in his lecture.
"googol-plex, th number 1 followed by a googol of zeros." and I sat there with this haughty, disdainful expression on my face, jus hopin he would go one more time, jus one more, and sure enuff, he said,

OK, smart ass, what is a goo-goo then?"

And I laughed and said,

"Why dude, don't ya remember yer Am. History? A goo-goo is a member or advocate of a political reform movement!"

And he jus sat there starin at me and finally said, "Fuck you!" and upended th board and got up and left th house. And I didn't even get mad at him fer his crude, boorish behavior. Aren't I th magnanimous one tho!?? Ha ha. Another game brought to a premature conclusion by unsportsman like conduct. Ha ha I don't know why he was soo pissed, cuz I was tryin to be as modest and unassumin as possible, and never did bust out laughin at im. And I never did explain to him jus how I had managed that little coup.

What is so truly amazing tho was that I memorized those definitions! On purpose, word by word, in th distant hope that one day, I would be called on one of those three words, and it jus so happened that I was called on all three of em jus hours later!!!

Oh lordy, sometimes, it's soo sweet!

th cap'm

P.S. And even tho I'm still pissed about th Beiger Incident, I gotta laugh about this one

Subject: Two Co-incidences? I Dunno.
Sunday, July 15, 2007 11:01 PM

(only th hardy will finish this tale)

This past Friday, I went to get my license plates renewed. After waitin fer some time, I finally got to th head of th line but this yung gurl stepped in front of me and said she had been there once earlier and so was allowed to go ahead of everybody. "OK, thas cool." I said.

When I finally got to th counter, naturally there were problems with my county personal tax receipt, but of course, and I was told I had to go to city hall to clear it up. Sheeit, I knew this wouldn't go down smoothly. Things never do at these kinda joints with their 'Rules' and


So, I had to get back in th car and drive to City Hall and while I was there, that same yung gurl I told ya about earlier came in and went into some office. Hmm. is this jus a co-incidence here? I mean, is this gurl followin me, or whut?

Well anyway, I put her outta m mind. I jus wanted to pay my taxes. Remember boyz and gurlz, it's not only Right; it's our Duty to pay our taxes, Ok, but like, you'll never guess what? Go ahead guess! Yep, there were complications; I didn't have th registration fer th vehicle in question and was told it was absolutely necessary to straighten out my mess. I'm tellin ya, I was miffed! And I spressed myself right there too in no uncertain terms. I blurted out so ya could hear me twenty feet way.


And wheeled around to make my angry egress. Oooooh I was annoyed, cuz I had to drive all th way home and back again. Took me another 50 minutes. Finally I got it boondoggle cleared up and went back to th DMV.

But when I went ahead to th front of th line like that young chick did, I got some reely surly and offensive remarks sent my way in th middle of all th hissin and jeerin.

Why in th hell couldn't those bog-dwellers be nice about it like I had been? Well, no matter, I disregarded th mutterins and mumblins and took care of bizness. By th time I was done, it took me three fuckin hours jus to renew my plates with all their bullshit Rules and Regulations, and they shafted me on my personal property taxes to boot!! Well, whadda'ya expect from Government, eh?! Sheeit, this is a good example of my feelings fer years; FUCK RULES AND REGULATIONS!

OK, so anyway, later, relaxin in th crib, readin a book before I made my way to th tavern fer th Friday Nite Adventures, th very last thing I read was a bit of nonsense that th author had directed towards adherents of Buddhism. He was pokin fun at some of their rhetoric. In a spoof, he told of th Buddhist who humbly asked of th hot dog vendor,

"Make me one, with everything!" (Ha ha my chuckle)

and gave th vendor a twenty. After he got his dog, he waited for his change. Finally, he asked th vendor about it and th vendor informed him that,

"Change only comes from within."

OK, I found that kinda amusin and thought I would relate it to some one later in th evening. And on that note, I left fer my nine o'clock appointment with th bartender.

So, I was swillin my grog and this young chik walked by and th hairs stood up on my neck. (GASP) It was that very same gurl I had seen earlier at th DMV and then City Hall, and now she's HERE in MY tavern! Whut th fu......? I recognised th signs immediately. Is there no surcease from th nefarious schemings of Th Fuckin Nixon SOB?! Ya know he's involved. His fingerprints were all over this caper.

I didn't blow my cool tho. I didn't let on that I had "made" her. I pulled my fedora down lower, so as to put my face in as much shadow as possible. I kept a wary, but surreptitious eye on her in case she tried to get a snap shot of me with her spy camera. I've read more than a few spy novels in my time, so I know a thing or two bout "trade craft", ya know whut I mean. Valerie Plame could learn some lessons from me.

As it turns out I was too crafty fer her, and unable to get a good shot of me, they aborted th mission I guess, and she and her "date" left. At closing time, as I made my way to th late nite joint in th Plaza where I conclude my evenings, I kept a sharp eye in my rear view mirror, and even tho I didn't detect a "tail," I still made three right turns in a row, jus to be sure. Well, with this fuckin Nixon, ya jus can't be too careful. I mean, it wasn't fer nothin that they called im "Tricky Dick". Well, I soon discovered I was 'clean' altho I was now goin in th wrong direction, but I made an adjustment and got back on track.

So as I'm seated now down there at yer Fred P. Otts, a buddy of mine came in and we were sittin there doin a late nite drunken rap' y'know, about nothin in particular, y'dig, jus babbin about, and completely outta nowhere, with no lead in or nothin, he sez to me,

"Charley, what did th Buddhist say to th hot dog vendor?"
and without missin a beat, I replied,

"Make me One with everything!"

And he got a kick outta how fast I had answered him. I told im I had jus read that a few hours earlier and we chortled over that and I said to him now,

"And do ya know whut th vendor said to th Buddhist when he asked fer his change?"

And he shook his head 'no' and I said,

"Change only comes from within!"
And again we had a chuckle, but I reely cracked up over that, much more than it was worth, cuz I had

wanted to relate that bit I had read earlier at some time or other durin th evening, and here this guy gave me th perfect opening.

Sometimes I think th Cosmic Forces show us hints of their sense of humor.

th cap'm

Subject: Slob o' Don Soprano
Saturday, July 14, 2007 2:22 AM

Whut's with this dude any way? I've been watchin reruns of this show since I joined th ranks of "th Cable People" a few months back. I have no idea whutsoever of where I'm at in relation to th whole saga. I dunno whether I'm watchin shit from th 3rd series or th 5th or whut?

But I do know this; this fuckin Tony Soprano has an unhealthy attitude towards foods. This dude is a Pig! Watch any episode and ya'll see Tony eatin. At least once! Any of them. But in many, mebbe 4-5 times! When this dude isn't whackin some one out, he's shovin food down his gullet. That fucker oughta make fat Bobby Baccala look skinny by comparison, considerin th amount of foods he puts away.

Sheeit, if he's not scarfin down one of Artie's "specialties," he's at th dinner table or sittin in front of th TeeVee, it don't matter cus he's always eatin.

But whut reely gets me is th finicky way he goes about it. He's gotta play with his food before he takes a bite. And it doesn't matter whut it is either; a steak, some pancakes, a bowl of ice cream, even a bowl of cereal, fr'chrissake, he can't jus put a spoonful in his mouth, he's gotta move it around th plate several times, like, stir it around, y'know? Watch him!

Hell, th next time he raps with Dr. Melvi he oughta ask her,

"Ya know somthin Doc, yer supposed to be helpin me, but tell me why in th fuck I gotta play with my food before I can take a bite, huh? Whatsa matter with me? I can't even take a fookin bite of ice cream without stirrin it around th bowl fer 30 seconds first?"

Yeah, I'm thinkin th Doc has got her work cut out fer her, and I'm thinkin Tony has a lot more 'issues' than we know about.

So hey, looky here, if ya ever invite Tony over to yer crib fer dinner, DO NOT, under any circumstances, ever serve im any mashed potatoes. Sheeeit ese, before he ever gets around to actually takin a bite, th cows will have come home and he will have constructed a "Potato Castle", complete with a moat of brown gravy.

Whatever shortcomings we might lay on his mother as a parent, one thing's fer sure, she sure dropped th cannoli on 'table manners', eh!?

th cap'm

Subject: Th Nuclear Family
Thursday, July 12, 2007 3:58 PM

I happen to hear some talkin heads on th TeeVee rappin about th nuclear family recently and I thought to myself,

"Hmmmm, this sounds like an EXPLOSIVE subject matter to me."

And I wondered if nuclear families are more RADIOACTIVE than regular families? And if so, what is their HALF-LIFE? How much longer will they remain before they begin to fade into th mist? Are nuclear families about to go th way of th dodo? By th way, speakin of th dodo, have ya ever seen an Ivory-billed Woodpecker?

Well anyway, I jus happened to be rappin with a gurl last nite about th nuclear family. In th course of our conversation she tole me her daddy jus happened to be a nuclear engineer. Cool. So I ast her if she would put a question to him; that is, whether there is any way a person such as himself could scientifically quantify or otherwise measure th level of radiation emanating from th average nuclear family as opposed to that of th average non-nuclear family?

And, if he could, would it then have any effect on th price of rice?

And FURTHERMORE, if it did, would that in any way have any consequences vis-a-vis th global value of th Yen?

Cuz y'know, like, everything's connected. Like, th shin bone is connected to th leg bone and th leg bone is connected to th thigh bone and........well, I think ya get th point, eh! She gave me what I can only describe as a 'strange' look and tole me she'd ask him next time she talked to him. But, y'know whut, I dunno........ I think maybe she wuz just putting me on bout askin him cuz I don't think she reely understood my point, ya know whut I mean? And so, I'll bet she neverdoes ask im, but I know yew catch my drift tho, don'cha!

th cap't

P.S. As ya know, Th Fuehrer pronounces this word as "nueclar". I jus stuck with th old traditional pronunciation.

Subject: Th Captain Reveals A Secret Cooking Aid
Thursday, July 12, 2007 2:37 AM

OK, boyz and gurlz, here's a little something ya might wanna try if ya have a gas stove. Ya won't find this in yer regular cooking book. This is whut I do: I turn th gas on high and let it burn fer 15-20 minutes or so before I place my pan, pot, skillet, whatever, on th, whut do ya call that thing, y'know, that little round metal grill thing that goes over th flames? See, whut this does is: it allows yer fire to get reel hot first, see whut I mean? Yer cookin always goes better when ya do it over hot flames. Luke warm flames jus don't give ya acceptable results. All of yer reely good chefs know this secret. I'm passin it on to yew, per gratis. Try it next time. It reely works!! Yer dinner guests will be askin ya,

"Yo Duke, whut's yer secret dude?"

Thas where ya jus shake yer head and give em a known wink and a grin.

I don't recall, have I ever hipped ya'll to this before? I can't remember. Ya know, from time to time, ya may find yerself receivin once again, or even twice again, some bit of nonsense that I may have previously sent to ya before. Y'know, like, earlier in th day, fr'instance, or perhaps last week, maybe a year ago. Who knows? And ya may find yerself throwin yer hands up and beseechin th heavens in frustration,

"Jus what the Hell is the matter with this loon anyway? I have already endured this tripe before. I can't take it any more. Why must I go through it again? Why?

Why? Oh, why me lord?"

First off, I would like to say,

"Stop yer snivelin and whinin!! It's unbecomin and undignified and waaay gauche!! OK!"

But then, secondly, upon reflection, I think...well yeah.... this is prolly a perfectly legitimate question to throw out to th ether. Unfortunately, th mere posin of such questions doesn't guarantee an answer!! Au contraire, like so many other questions of this nature: no answer will be forthcoming! Thas jus th way things go on this, th third stone from th sun.

Perhaps it is Karmic Payback fer some transgression you committed in an earlier Life. I dunno. Yew can address that possibility better than moi. It's jus one of those little crosses yer gonna have'ta bear from time to time. And looky here, if it makes ya feel any better, ya might take comfort in knowin this; it disturbs ME more than it does You!! OK!? So go ahead, exercise a bit of Shadenfreude if ya like.

Cuz after all, it's my mind that's disintegratin, not yers! Piece by piece. Little by little. Kinda like a sand castle, y'know whut I mean!? A little clump here, a little clump there. Pretty soon, all ya got is a mess of sand scattered about. At th present rate of decay, no doubt soon, there will be someone hoverin over me wipin th drool off my chin. Oh well, whut the hell, I just hope she's comely and has th grace to use high quality soft absorbent tissues! Thas not too much to ask fer, is it?

th cap'm

Subject: Saturday 07/07/07
Sunday, July 8, 2007 10:36 PM

As I'm sure ya prolly already know, this past Saturday was a propitious day fer a lotta folks. Y'know, th ones who think fer unfathomable reasons of their own, that certain numbers have influence in their lives. Ha ha Yeah, I know, I know. Ya might jus as well believe that th Tooth Fairy, th Easter Bunny and Santa are real too, cus it wouldn't be one whit less stupid, but, there it is!

Well as you peoples know from past babblings, I myself have no truck with superstitions, especially numerical ones, like th ones concernin 7 and 13 fr'instance. I guess th date 07/07/07 shoulda been a reely good one fer th whole human race, eh? Did reely lucky things happen to every one that day? Was it good fer you too? Did War and Famine and Pestilence take th day off? And jus who are these unknown, invisible, mysterious Forces that give these numbers their magical powers, and where do they dwell?

I can only relate th story of a friend of mine. Th elderly lady who is 91 years old (my Miss Daisy) and is my employer, and who I drive out to Harrah's riverboat twice week, so she can indulge her passion fer "gaming" (remember back in th olden days when it was called gambling?)

Now normally we go durin th weekdays. We never go on weekends, but she couldn't pass up th opportunity to take advantage of this extraordinary opportunity, cus she, like many gamblers does believe in all manner of things that she thinks affect th outcome at th table. It could be th interpretation of a dream, or a number, or situation that caught her attention that she felt was good omen, or any damned thing, cus lemme tell ya, if ya think god moves im mysterious and capricious ways, these guys take it to another level, ya dig. Th trick to winnin at th tables is to try and discern what they have in mind fer a particular day. As any gambler will tell ya; it's not easy!

So anyway, we, and a huge portion of t rest of Kansas City all flocked to th boats. And even at ten in th morn th place was a complete madhouse. It was jus crazy.

Well, to summarize; at th end of th day, includin my wages, and th after dinner at th Range, this luckiest of all lucky days set her back 1,100 bucks! Opps, CURSES! Like, wha happened? But altho she was sorely disappointed, she was not deterred, cuz as she said, in th spirit of all degenerate gamblers,

"Well, th only thing I can do, is come back next week and win it back"

Ha ha Oh lordy! Now don't get me wrong ya'll cuz I love this lady like my own mother, but sometimes........ um, I can only shake my head in bewilderment, y'know whut I mean!?

Hey, and ya know whut? Man ya know those casino operators jus get their roks off on days like this. They don't come around often enuff fer them! They jus love those superstitious peoples, cus they thrive on em. I'll bet they won triple th money Sat. than their next closest day this year. Th KA-CHING KA-CHING was deafening!

th cap'm

P.S. I wonder what th day July 7th, 7777 is gonna be like? Whew! Man, I'll bet that'll be a record day fer th casinos, eh! And do ya think peoples will still be setting off fireworks left over from th Fourth?

Subject: Tennessee Takes A Huge Step In Th War On Teen Beer Drinking
Sunday, July 8, 2007 9:18 PM

I read in th paper this last week where Tennessee passed a law which now requires every person buyin beer to show an ID, get this, regardless of their age!! Like, fr'instance, if ya happen to be a 70-year-old wheezer in yer wheelchair and wanna cop a six pack, try and remember to take yer ID with ya, otherwise ya'll be shit-out-of-luck. But whut th hell, if that should happen, all ya gotta do is find some young dude with a fake ID to cop it fer ya.

One legislator trying to explain this complete Insanity, said that it would keep liquor sales peoples "from trying to guess how old would-be beer buyers are".

Ha ha Is that most ridiculous thing ya've ever heard of? Sheeeit. And what makes it even more stupid than it already is, it doesn't apply to wine and liquor!! But keep that beer outta those teen hands.

I mean, stop and think about it; how is requiring all peoples purchasing beer to show ID, no matter how old they are, goin to in any way, reduce teen beer drinking? Th teens with fake IDs are jus gonna have to wait a couple extra seconds while "gramps" there ahead of em fumbles around lookin fer his ID.

Personally, I'm thinkin it's jus th vanguard of a vast government plot to get th populace so accustomed to showing their Identity Papers fer th least bit absurd reason, they'll get so used to it that th next time they're sittin there watchin th TeeVee, and th coppers come bustin their doors down to make sure they got their proper papers, they'll jus take it in stride. I mean, who knows, they coulda been illegal, undocumented aliens? Right?!

In these dangerous times, we gotta be ever vigilant!!

Well anyway, if ya should be so unfortunate to be livin in Tennessee, remember now; don't leave home without yer ID, jus in case ya might get a hankerin fer a sixer!

th cap'm

Subject: Scooter Libby In Hell
Friday, July 6, 2007 12:28 AM

Ok, my good friend and old high school chum from Germany '59, Pat S. sent this to me. I am not familiar with this dude, but as I told Pat, I would love to sit down and drink many beers and smoke a lotta weed and rap with this guy all nite. I kinda doubt we would disagree on too many things, but even if we did, I would love to hear his side of whatever it was. I wish I could express my thoughts and ideas as clearly and vividly as he does! check it out.


What do Dick Cheney, Paris Hilton, The Sopranos and colon spasms have in common? Find out here!

By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
(do you know who or what th San Francisco Gate is? th cap't)
Wednesday, July 4, 2007

"So there you have it. Bush shrugs and smirks and then commutes the easy soft-focus sit-on-your-ass-all-day-and-knit white-collar prison sentence of a hollow political lackey who, in turn, took a bullet for his sneering mafia thug of a boss, Dick Cheney, who in turn was complicit (along with lead flying monkey Karl Rove) in the appallingly illegal outing of a CIA operative, which itself was a tiny but particularly nasty link in the giant chain of lies and deceptions undertaken to lead our wary and tattered nation into an unwinnable impossible costly brutally violent war that will now last, if current estimates are correct, until the goddamn sun explodes.

You have to laugh. You have to laugh because if you do not laugh you will likely be overcome by a mad desire to stab yourself in the eye with a sharp feral cat and/or shoot yourself in the toe with a high-powered staple gun, over and over again, all while tearing out pages of the United States Constitution and crumpling them into tiny little balls and hurling them into the smoldering firepit of who-the-hell-cares as you shiver in the corner and swig from a bottle of Knob Creek and wail at the moon. Or maybe that's just me.

But really, you do have to laugh at the vicious antics this administration, and perhaps Dick Cheney in particular, that most nefarious molester of U.S. law and ignorer of all political integrity and deeply homophobic father of a creepily lesbian daughter and overall gruntingly guff sneerer at all moral principle, masterful mocker of everything you somehow still manage to think, even in your most despondent and ethically disillusioned state, that American politics is somehow supposed to be about.

For it was Cheney, you well know, who yanked Bush's puppet strings in order to get Libby off the hook. It was Cheney who whispered sweet, oozing nothings into Dubya's ear to convince him to screw the goddamn law and mock the American jury system and further lock down America's standing as the most corrupt and least accountable nation in the entire developed world.

What, are you surprised by all this? Of course you're not. It is, of course, all about the cover-up, all about preventing Libby from revealing the real criminals in all this, about Cheney's nefarious role in the Plame case, all about ensuring the cabal remains intact and unassailable and throbbing with misprision.
It was so cute as to be actually damaging to the soul. Bush actually ambled forth and said that, while he "respects the jury" in the Libby case, the 2.5 year sentence was simply "too harsh." Baby, if 30 months in a comfy well-stocked rape-free Martha Stewart-decorated facility for compromising national security is too harsh, I've got a draconian little called the Patriot Act to sell you, cheap.

Here's a swell side note: You know who gets harsher sentences than 30 months in white-collar prison, George? Pot dealers. That's right. The average sentence for a convicted marijuana dealer in California is 3.3 years. In real prison, George, not that namby-pamby Club Fed where Scooter would've played badminton and sipped tea. Hell, in places like Oklahoma and Alabama, you can get a life sentence for possessing a single marijuana bud, which is ironic indeed, given how if you live in Oklahoma or Alabama, there is nothing that would serve your miserable id better than to be deeply and thoroughly stoned every single day and twice on Sunday. But that's another column.

Just a hint of perspective, George. See, we all know you drank like a monosyllabic fish and were rumored to enjoy your share of premium flake during all those years you were skipping poli-sci class in college as you snorted money from the silver spoon you were born with, so maybe you can appreciate this viewpoint. Or, you know, maybe not.

You know who's now done more jail time that Scooter Libby? Paris Hilton. Paris Hilton has now accomplished more in the eyes of the law to pay her debt to society than the VP's former chief of staff ever will for assisting Bush & Co in corrupting the soul of the goddamn nation. Isn't that cute? Cute enough to cause sharp stabbing pain in your abdomen requiring great amounts of scotch and marijuana to anesthetize? You bet it is.

Lest we forget, Dubya's latest abuse of law follows hot on the heels of Dick Cheney declaring himself a unique and unassailable branch of government, free to ignore the law and refuse to hand over detailed reports of how he's handled classified information to the federal, Bush-approved oversight agency in charge of making sure people just like Dick don't take too many liberties with power and ego and dictatorial megalomania. Whoops, too late.

Just another appalling notch in the belt for Dick, really. To be added to the collection, right alongside the bit where he endorses torture, or how he initiated the secret detention of foreigners in brutal Eastern European prisons, or his love of military tribunals, or the hard-on he gets for detaining foreigners illegally, for years, at Guantanamo Bay, or the way he works to derail freedom of the press, or how he abuses environmental law and rearranges the federal budget as he sees fit all while sucking up Halliburton kickbacks, and...

Oh my. The list is long indeed. And it is, in its way, far uglier and more dangerous than that of his bumbling, inept boss. But you already knew that, right?

All in all, you could say it's much like a very bad episode of The Sopranos, all thick-minded thugs and boorish mafia tactics and the childish calling in of violent favors, all about ruthless loyalty at the expense of, well, everything else: humanity, integrity, decency, the will of the people. And there is Bush, the hollow figurehead, the smirking decider, with Cheney as the henchman, the hangman, the guy at the door with the black gloves and the baseball bat and the black van waiting outside.

Except wait a minute; in this endless episode, there's no deeper sense of existential angst, no smart-tongued therapy sessions full of humor and revelation, no hint of greatness, no darkly heroic Tony Soprano character who transcends it all and suspects there is more to life than this world of blood and violence and war and even craves, somewhere in his soul, to find it.

OK, check that. It's not The Sopranos at all. It's more like a particularly noxious episode of "Mama's Family," all Neanderthal redneck inbred imbeciles doing bad accents and idiotic pratfalls and slapping each other in the face to the tune of an insufferable, forced laugh track, all centered around a laughably dreadful character who blurts out sarcastic one-liners so stupid and inept they make your skin crawl.

Except no one's laughing. And tens of thousands of people are dying. And the country is rotting at its core. And the world, oh the world, the world knows this degrading, deeply humiliating show cannot be cancelled fast enough."

couldn't have said it better myself! Ha ha

th cap'm

Subject: : A Fourth Of July We Won't Soon Forget
Thursday, July 5, 2007 11:55 PM

It's completely beyond my understanding why so many other countries admire and want to emulate our culture. Even countries that don't like us wanna be jus like us. I guess it's cuz they don't have any Paris Hiltons and Anna Nicoles of their own, so they try and live vicariously thru ours.

And yesterday, I saw a great example of this culture of ours, so widely admired, combined with a great demonstration of our Patriotism too, and since it was also th 4th of July; very apropos.

This event featured what is now called, "a competitive eating contest". Formerly these events could be found at yer county fairs and such, where Bobbie Ray and Johnny Earl sat down and tried to see who could gobble up more of Lucille's apple pies. But that was th olden days. Today, these affairs are covered by th National Media. Now they are called "competitive eating events".

Now, if ya follow this sorta thing, and pray tell, who doesn't? ya would know that some little pipsqueak Japanese fellow has usurped and hi-jacked this All-Amerikan activity fer several years in a row. This Kubiyashi (sp?) dude has been scarfin up hot dogs, Hot Dogs!

fr'chrissake boyz and gurlz, like nobody ever did before. He was like a Hot Dog Terminatin Machine. But his reign of Terror finally came to an end.

And if I might be brutally candid here, it might have actually been a good thing fer him and his fellow countrymen that he finally lost, cuz, like, well....ya would think th Japanese, of all peoples, would realize th inherent dangers of pissin off th United States of Amerika, th Greatest Country In The History Of The World!

Y'know, like they took away our steel manufacturing, ditto autos, electronics, and so on. We had already lost a lotta face to em, and this hot dog issue was reely startin to grate on our collective nerves. A proud peoples can only take so much, ya dig! Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sayin we woulda nuked em again, but sheeeit, well, y'know, with George Bush and his Insane Posse callin th shots, who knows, eh?

Well anyway, apparently an Amerikan finally won th hot dog eatin contest, oh hey, and check this out, th dudes name was Joey Chestnut. I'm not jivin ya either. (is there a more Amerikan name than that?) Yep, Joey brought th trophy back to this country where it rightfully belongs. This guy was jus beamin with pride and elation as he wrapped hisself in a large Amerikan flag and held th trophy high fer all to see! And dig, th message was; it was not fer personal glory he wolfed those 66 dogs down, it was fer all of Us, fer You and Me, and all other Freedom lovin Amerikans. Ya jus wanted to break out in song, "Amerika, Amerika, God shed his Grace on thee...." y'knowwhutahmsayin!m If ya watched any TV yesterday ya had to have seen it. I'm tellin ya, it was a stirring sight and I gotta admit, it bought a lump to my throat. Fortunately I had a paper bag right next to my sofa and so I didn't pollute my carpet.

In any case it was a perfect example of this celebration of Amerikan Culture and Patriotism, all packed into one momentous event. So to th rest of th world I say,


th cap'm

Subject: Scooter Libby Commutation
Wednesday, July 4, 2007 12:14 AM

Perhaps ya recall I wrote this jus a few weeks ago when Libby was

Date: Wed, Jun 6, 2007, 6:52pm
Subject: Lewis "Scooter" Libby Sentenced To 30 Months In Prison

Ha ha What a fuckin joke! Gimme a break. Sheeit, th sun will fall right outta th sky before this scumbag ever spends 30 months in prison. Ain't gonna happen, no how, no way!!

th cap'm

OK, so havin made that prediction, ya would think that Der Fuerher's decision to commute his sentence wouldn't have surprised me? But I wasn't prepared for this debacle to go down this way. So soon, so outrageously bald faced. I thought he might let a little time go by. thought he might be a bit more sneaky about it. But noooo. He jus said,

"Fuck th Judge, th jurors, and th Prosecutor! Fuck th whole Amerikan Justice System! And Fuck th Amerikan Peoples! Fuck you all. I'm th President and I can do anything I damn well please! You unnerstan whut ahm sayin, FUCK YOU!!"

Words fail me in describin my Rage and Disgust with this no-good mutherfuckin Asshole Slimeball Piece of Shit. This scumbag who has caused more harm to this country than can even be imagined. Get this; George Bush makes me nostalgic fer Richard Nixon! (and my knees buckled when I said that) I previously thought ya woulda had to yank my fingernails out with some pliers before I woulda uttered such a blasphemous thought.

I saw Countdown tonite with Keith Olberman and he expressed my feelings about Bush so much better than I ever could articulate. I wish I had some way to be able to share his views with you. I wish he had been able to express them on Network News instead of his cable show. I wish....I wish....well sheeit, lemme tell ya about my secret fantasy. OK boyz n gurlz, don't tell anybody bout this, cus it's jus my fantasy...and it's a secret! OK, so don't go blabberin it all over th countryside.

Aw'right, here it is: I'm strollin along one lovely afternoon, jus takin it all easy, and I'm walkin across this bridge. and somewhere near me I hear this faint voice sayin,

"Help! Help me!"

And I look around and I happen to see th fingers of some one barely clingin to th edge of th bridge.

"Oh wow!" I think, "Someone is about to drop off th bridge!"

So of course I immediately rush over to be of assistance, and I look down over th edge and there's Georgie Porgie, lookin up and pleadin, "Help me. Please!"

I'm in shock. I can't believe my good fortune. It's George Bush and he needs my help desperately. So I immediately unzip my pants and PISS IN HIS FACE!

And I PISS and PISS and PISS!

After finishin my business, which I might add was most pleasant, I resume my stroll, but with a much lighter foot now, and begin whistling and hummin

"Zippty-do dah, zippty-do dey, my-oh-my, whut a wonderful day!"
and I can hear birds chirpin and bees buzzin and ol Man Sun is beamin, and there's a nice gentle wind blowin, and i feel so gosh darned good, I leap up in th air and click my heels together, jus like they do in th movies.

Oh yeah, yeah, I know, I know, it's jus a fantasy. But ya know whut; sometimes our Dreams are whut keep us goin, and sometimes boyz n gurls, our Dreams do come true! I can only wish!

th cap'm

Subject: Another Mystery Solved; Th Cap'm Will Sleep Better Tonite
Monday, July 2, 2007 1:33 AM

OK ya'll, after delvin into th perplexin actions of that gurl I told ya about who replaced th first square she took outta her pack and then put it back in upside down, tobacco end up, I made some probin inquiries last nite and was told by several of my contacts on th street that that was considered a "good luck" cigarette, to be smoked last.

I was quite frankly surprised to hear that, cuz, like, I smoked fer 48 fookin years ya'll, and I never heard that particular bit of blarney before. Sheeeit! Altho I now know why she did that, I still have no fuckin idea why any one would go thru such a stupid, meaningless ritual in th zany belief that it would somehow bring good fortune to em. Where in th hell do human beings come up with such absolute nonsense? Huh?

Yeah, I know; superstitions?! But when peoples tell me they're “superstitious,” my first thought is,

"Ya mean yer jus incredibly Fuckin Stupid!!"

and I dismiss em forthwith as not bein worth my time to even rap with. Before ya knew it, they'd be tossin salt over their shoulders, and engagin in all other manner of weird behaviors. I mean, rilly! Like, how can ya have a dialog with a creature like that?

th cap't

P.S. Y'know whut, If I owned a high rise, it would have a 13th floor on it. And by th way, is there a building anywhere that doesn't? Do these ignorant peoples think there's jus a big gap between th 12th and 14th floors fr'chrissake!? haha Oh, but I guess as long as ya don't call th 13th floor, th 13th floor, these Cosmic Forces who would take offense at that are just completely fooled.

That is pretty amusin when ya stop and think about it; y'know, that they can be so easily hoodwinked and propitiated by such hollow, meaningless gestures. As th landlord, I would ask all prospective tenants if they had any objections to takin space on th 13th floor, and fer those who said they did, I would immediately have Security Mace em and drag their crazy asses outta th building right fuckin pronto-like. Cuz ya never know, sometimes deranged peoples can suddenly, without warning, get violent and dangerous on ya!

Subject: The Insane Cigarette Pack Whackers Are Still Out There!
Saturday, June 30, 2007 8:14 PM

Th utter mindless stupidities of these cretins jus never fails to amaze me. Last nite I was sittin at a high top table and jus across from me were sittin three gurls in a booth. At some point one of th gurls pulled out her cigs and started slammin her pack on th table. She was usin about an eight point thumpin slam followed by about a 5-6 second pause. Then 8 more successive thumps followed by th pause. It was pretty loud and was gettin reeely annoyin.

After maybe 70-80 whacks she shifted from th table to th palm of her hand. She then continued to whack her palm, I would guess, no exaggeration at all, mebbe 300 more times. I'm not smokin ya one bit. I mean it. She was listening to her girlfriend and would pause sometimes when th conversation got reely interesting, I spose, and then would resume. She did this fer 4-5 fookin minutes! I was beginnin to think she wasn't ever goin to open her godam pack.

But, when she finally unwound th little plastic wrapper, she took a cig out and sat it on th table, then she extracted another and put th first one back in th pack, but upside down now, tobacco side up?? Then, she lit th second one. This literally sent my brain into overload. Fuses were blowin right and left. I mean, I've never seen any one do that before and try as I might, I couldn't come up with any rational, plausible reason why any one in th world would do that? (little did I know then what would be comin soon)

I jus had to stop thinkin about it all together cuz I was afraid fer th integrity of my still functionin circuits. Just a few minutes later tho, her friend sittin right across from her got out her unopened pack and started whackin her pack. I jus shuddered inwardly and grit my teeth and braced myself. Fortunately fer me, she only thumped em 60-70 times, without much in th way of pauses so it didn't take very long, but even so, by th time she finished I was startin to break out in a cold sweat.

I employed some Zen calmin techniques and was jus about back to normal, when, GASP, Oh No! th third gurl pulled out a pack! All three of these gurls are opening their new packs within minutes of each other. ZOUNDS! Whut th fuck is goin down here ?It was more than I could take. I wanted to scream out,
"Stop! Stop! Pleeeze no more. I'll talk. I'll tell you anything! I'll give ya all my secret codes! Pleeeze no more!"

But I didn't. I sucked it up. I decided I wasn't gonna roll over. Never had before; wasn't gonna start now! But this third gurl reely pulled off th Mother of All Stupidities. Th Absolute Insanity of what she did was staggerin. She started packin her smokes, again usin about an 8 count, but then....but then......she turned th pack upside down and packed em again. She did this prolly fifteen times. Slammed em one way, reversed em, and slammed em th opposite. So, if yer not followin this, each time she slammed em, she negated th effects of th previous slammin. Accomplishin absolutely nothin! Why? Why? Why I ask you? Why would you do that? It would be like pourin a glass of water into a glass, and then pourin it back in th first glass.

After watchin that whole charade fer th past fifteen minutes, th only possible conclusion I could come to was, once again,


Some how his minions set up this wacky scenario to loosen my grasp on reality. I suspect it was all part of th ongoin 30-year conspiracy to "Get The Cap'm". We didn't call him Tricky Dick fer nothin, ya'know! I know he heard about th numerous "FUCK NIXON" bashes I threw fer years, and then finally, th bIg one, th

"ADIOS DICK, SEE YA LATER MUTHERFUCKER" party I threw on th eve of his ignominious departure. He never forgave me fer that one.

I dunno tho, sometimes it's hard to pick out th players in th Conspiracy from yer run-of-th mill, ordinary crazy fucknuts! How is one to distinguish em? I need to hire a consultant who can advise me when certain actions are part of th Conspiracy, and when they're jus part of Life? Damn, it can get confusin.

th cap'm

Subject: Lest They Forget
Friday, June 29, 2007 5:16 PM

OK boyz n gurlz, do any of ya'll remember Don Imus? Remember him from a few weeks back? Th story of his fall from grace was on every news show, radio, TV, whatever, fer weeks. On and on it went with no let up. Th Reverend “Asshole” Al Sharpton and “Big Daddy” Jesse Jackson waded in with their two cents. Everybody had an opinion. Should they have canned his ass or whut?

"Th Saga of Don Imus" by Johnny Cash. Now there's a hit song jus waitin there if we could only persuade Johnny to come back one more time.

So, like whut ever happened to Imus? He faded away into th mists of memory jus like yesterday's forgotten headline on th Tongonoxie Daily Herald.

He got bumped by Nicole and Paris and ya know he's grateful as hell to em both!!

th cap'm

P.S. Speakin of bein grateful to Nicole, there's no one more grateful than th astronaut chik drivin cross country in her Depends to ice her rival fer th affections of her hunky astronaut boyfriend. Heck, I can't even remember her name now, who can? But if Nicole hadn't checked out when she did, th Media was ready to go with that story balls to th wall. I mean, it had everything. A bizarre love triangle with sexy astronauts! They were jus gettin up to speed on her, with th obligatory interviews with her next door neighbors and her high school teacher, ad nauseum, when th Nicole Smith Circus came to town and everybody promptly forgot all about her. I'm sure that gurl will always have a special place in her heart fer Nicole.

Subject: The Duke Of Darkness?
Friday, June 29, 2007 4:34 PM

Durin th past several days, while wanderin around th environs in th afternoon, I have by chance encountered three different friends on three different occasions who I mostly see at night in some saloon or other. And each one of them said th same thing to me in a surprised, almost un-believing kind of tone,

"Gee Cap'm, I've never seen you in the daylight before!"

Whut a shocker fer th uninitiated, eh? So then, yesterday, I was havin a sandwich in this diner and I saw a gurl I knew and she said,

"Gee Charley, in all the years I've known you, this is the first time I've ever seen you eating."

Wow! Once again, can ya imagine th Wonder of that? And I said,

"Yeah, and in the daytime too no less! Since this is yer first time and all, tell me somethin, is it everything you thought it would be, or are ya a wee bit disappointed?"

I suppose peoples think, like, I don't ever leave my crypt til the sun goes down? Ha ha It's true tho, I am a nite-critter. I do prefer th dark. I hate brightly lit drinkin joints. I simply wont patronise em. I much prefer to sit over in a dark corner, in some bit of anonymity, apart from th vulgar, garish crowds babblin their inanities and banalities about th room.

Along those same lines, my cribs always have th windows blocked off so even in th day time one must needs a flashlight to traverse th joint. When I come home, I am ensconced in my own little womb-like cocoon and know nothin of th outside world, except fer th occasional phone call. Like, I don't know until I open my front door each day whether there's a tornado in my front yard or a foot of snow, or maybe a river where my street used too be!

And then, when I egress th premises, hey, looky here, so whus wrong with a nice black silk cape anyway? I think it's rather stylish, tho perhaps a bit warm of a summer evening. Still, sartorially speakin, combined with my black felt stetson, I think it gives me a rather roguish and mystery laden look. Dark secrets swirl about as I slide by.

If ya should ever see a sinister, shadowy figure scurryin away down a dark alley with a black cape billowin behind em, pay it no mind. OK. There's no need to bother th Authorities with trivialities and vague suspicions. There are plenty of other naer-do-wells for them to concern themselves with.

And call me old fashioned if ya will, but I miss th old days. Fuck these high intensity fluorescent lights. There's somthin oddly comfortin about th character of th light cast from a gas lamp. Even yer shadow assumes an air of intrigue. They jus whisper softly in yer ear,

"Go! Flee away. Silently off into th nite. Be careful. Do not send th garbage can clattering. Do not disturb th slumberin hounds. Make good yer escape."

And as ya leap fences and bound away, th thought strikes ya,

"Why pray tell, do I fleeth, for I have committed no offense!"

But no matter, ya do it cuz it's in yer nature. Ya might jus as well ask th scorpion why he lashes out with his deadly tail, even tho you meant him no harm.

And then ya remember,

"Yea, verily, th guilty fleeth, tho no man pusueth."

Yes, but guilty of what? Once again; no matter! Cuz Paranoia keeps ya alive, gives ya th edge to survive. So, Flee away leavin only yer shadow behind!

th cap'm

Subject: Bumper Sticker
Thursday, June 28, 2007 9:50 PM

I saw a rather amusin bumper sticker earlier that said.

"Where are we going? And why are we all in a handbasket?"

Imagine a furreigner, perhaps an illegal alien, jus hopped th fence, tryin to figure out jus what that idiomatic expression meant?

"Goin to hell in a handbasket? Wha chu talkin bout Señor? Mira ese! I'm lookeeng fer th bean field, eh?"

I was curious about it myself so I looked it up in my Dictionary of Cliches and, sheeit, like, I need some one to translate their definition fer me. It seemed like not much more than a mess of gobbledegook to me. Whasa good of a dictionary if ya can't understand th fookin thing?

Thinkin of handbaskets got me rememberin a slight variation on this theme; a couple years ago some young dude said to me,

"This country is fast goin to Hell in a handbarrel!"

I hadda chuckle a bit on his version. I said,

"No kiddin man. None of that handbasket jive fer me. Gimme a handbarrel every time!"

And we high-fived on that!

Whut bout you boyz and gurlz? Handbasket vs handbarrel? Take yer pick. Don't reely matter much tho does it which way ya go, cuz in th end, we're still in th Shit!

th cap'm


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