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虫ん坊 > Manga > Man of Tail

Man of Tail

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  • This is a science fiction criminal drama with a story line depicting a race of tailed humans, separate from mankind, living on a then unexplored inland area of Indonesia.
    The story goes that a boy named Piggy is working at a zoo in New York run by superintendent Frank Alain. When he was a child, the superintendent had bought him in a slave market in Java. Piggy has the ability to talk to animals, and hears from a long-tailed monkey from Java, called Kitty, about a man in Java who has the same odor as Piggy. Piggy and the superintendent decide to travel together to Java.
    After their arrival in Java, the superintendent is told by the slave marketer that Piggy was discovered on the beach when he was small, and that he had a tail on his backside at that time.
    The story proceeds, and after being chased by a villain named Lamp, Piggy and Kitty flee on a great egret, and then finally meet a man with a tail.
    Speaking with a tailed boy named Jago, Piggy finds that the boy is actually his blood brother.

Electronic Books

  • No e-book version is available for this title.

  • July 15, 1949
    Published as a book (Fujishobo)

    For a certain period of time before the Pacific War, children's adventure dramas and science fiction novels staged in unexplored regions overseas were popular in Japan, and
    Tezuka Osamu was also an enthusiastic reader of such adventure novels. The influence of such works on him can be seen in the work "Humans with Tails"
    Although there is an adventure novel which entitled a same title published in 1939, written by Oguri Mushitaro, an important mystery novelist in pre-war Japan, it is totally unrelated to Tezuka Osamu's work.

  • There is no title for each episode.

  • This title is not turned into animation yet.


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Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Pursuit of Wisdom

There was once a small boy who banged a drum all day and loved every moment of it. He would not be quiet, no matter what anyone else said or did. Various attempts were made to do something about the child.

One person told the boy that he would, if he continued to make so much noise, perforate his eardrums. This reasoning was too advanced for the child, who was neither a scientist nor a scholar.

A second person told him that drum beating was a sacred activity and should be carried out only on special occasions. The third person offered the neighbors plugs for their ears; a fourth gave the boy a book; a fifth gave the neighbors books that described a method of controlling anger through biofeedback; a sixth person gave the boy meditation exercises to make him placid and docile. None of these attempts worked.

Eventually, a wise person came along with an effective motivation. He looked at the situation, handed the child a hammer and chisel, and asked, "I wonder what's inside the drum?"

Ah, the wisdom of that man! It reminds me of the wisdom demonstrated by King Solomon when two women came to him fighting over which of them was the true mother of a baby (I Kings 3:16-28). Solomon was, of course, known for his great wisdom.

Solomon wrote, "Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her." (Prov. 3:13-15)

We need to understand, though, that knowledge and wisdom aren't the same thing. If you want to measure a person's knowledge, you give them a test. If they score 90 or above, they have a lot of knowledge. If they score below 50, there's not much knowledge there. But determining the measure of a person's wisdom is much more difficult. You have to look at how he lives and the decisions he makes.

James Draper has said, "Wisdom is the skill to live in a way that is pleasing to God. It is not simply information in our heads. It is information that we put to use -- where we live, where we work, and where we play."

We live in a world where everyone seeks knowledge. We value educaton. We read books. We watch news channels. But how many of us pursue wisdom to the same extent?

Be assured that wisdom is not something that you will stumble into by accident. It's a pursuit. It's a search. It requires an attitude that says, "I want to learn from God how to live, and I want to apply those principles to my life."

"Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom. And in all your getting, get understanding." (Proverbs 4:7)

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Thursday, January 1, 2015

Seduction's Kiss and Lure Cover Reveal

We are thrilled to bring you this dual Cover Reveal for Alyssa Rose Ivy's SEDUCTION'S KISS and LURE!! SEDUCTION’S KISS is a prequel novella releasing January 29th, and LURE is the first book in her new series, The Allure Chronicles. LURE is a New Adult Paranormal Romance that will be releasing February 16th! Check out the synopses for these awesome new books and the gorgeous covers designed by Mae I Designs!

Seductions Kiss About SEDUCTION’S KISS: Never agree to a road trip to New Orleans with your roommate. At least not when your roommate is dragging you along while she reconnects with an ex-boyfriend. Possible consequences of failing to take my advice: 1) Unknowingly going out with a vampire stripper 2) Getting kidnapped by said vampire's nest mates 3) Falling head over heels for your winged hero Believe it or not number 3 is the worst one, especially when no one believes you that he exists. *Prequel novella to Lure (The Allure Chronicles #1)* LURE About LURE: There's danger in the beauty... Two years, six months, and twenty-five days. That's how long it had been since I'd seen my winged hero— not that I'd been counting. I'd suffered through years of counseling just to convince my friends and family that I wasn't crazy and knew he didn't exist. But he did. And I was done waiting.   Days after college graduation I headed back down to New Orleans to retrace my steps and find Owen again only to find my life was about to get even crazier... thanks to the most beautiful and dangerous of all paranormal creatures, the Allures.

Alyssa Rose Ivy- Author PhotoAlyssa Rose Ivy Bio: Alyssa Rose Ivy is a New Adult and Young Adult author who loves to weave stories with romance and a southern setting. Although raised in the New York area, she fell in love with the South after moving to New Orleans for college. After years as a perpetual student, she turned back to her creative side and decided to write. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and two young children, and she can usually be found with a cup of coffee in her hand.

Twitter ** Author Goodreads ** Pinterest ** Website ** LURE Goodreads ** SEDUCTION’S KISS Goodreads ** Facebook

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Monday, December 13, 2010

In Defense of the Top 1%

I am not rich. I am not poor. I am middle class. Neither upper or lower middle class, I am simply middle middle class. As an academic librarian, higher education's social worker, I have no reason to believe that I will ever elevate myself beyond my middle middle class standing. I have no talent, no non-librarian marketable skills, no gift for the entrepreneurial. I have more than what I need in life and a lot less than what I want from it. I am one of those "mass of men" whom Thoreau described as living a life of "quiet desperation." That being said, I don't think it's right to punish the rich for being rich.

Democrats believe otherwise. They think it's good - even noble and righteous - to punish the wealthy, in this case, by not extending their tax cuts, tax cuts Dems think every other American should retain. It is selfish and un-American to deny one group of individuals the same benefit being doled out to the majority. Liberals would normally claim such a situation discriminatory and would rant until blue in the face about the injustice of it all, but since the rich tend to be conservatives they are now more than happy to uphold the injustice of it all. Discriminating against the top 1-2% of our society is still discrimination, and it is hypocrisy like that which drove me away from the Democratic Party.

The rich are an easy target because we envy them. We know we will never be their financial equals, and so out of spite we look for ways to get back at them. I don't know anyone in this country, however, who wouldn't trade places financially with someone making over $300,000 a year. That's what we all work for, isn't it? To make money? And yet some insist on punishing those who just happen to be better than the rest of us at making money. It's not the fault of the wealthy if you pursued a career in a field our society doesn't appreciate enough to allow you to make over 300K. Blame your fellow riff-raff for that! Also keep in mind as the Dems salivate over sticking it to the wealthy that in a lot of instances, we, the oh-so-downtrodden, helped to make the rich get rich by buying their products, going to their concerts and games, eating at their restaurants, and enjoying their movies. It's not only bankers and Wall Street CEOs who we would punish. You explain to Oprah, Tom Brady, Regis, George Clooney, and Lady Gaga why they should pay more in taxes because we like what they do.

The idle and the incompetent don't become rich, and so it is that somewhere in the history of every wealthy family is someone who worked very hard to EARN a fortune. I thought that the ethos behind the American Dream was that if you worked hard enough, opportunity and fortune would follow, and yet here we are on the verge of punishing a small minority of people for accomplishing that dream. Sure, there are some whose fortunes were made bilking, cheating and swindling others, but to judge all wealthy people by those few is no different than proclaiming all poor people deadbeats who prefer living off welfare to having a job simply because there a few who are just like that! This idea that "working Americans" are everybody but the wealthy and thus more deserving of tax breaks is laughable. The rich work, too, sometimes harder than you and me, sometimes not, but they work nonetheless and shouldn't punished for it.

BTW, it should be noted that the same small group of Americans that the Dems want to punish for making money is the same small group that donates almost $2 billion more than the rest of us combined to assist those in need. Perhaps it is just because they have more money to give to the less fortunate but there's nothing saying that they have to donate anything at all, and yet they do. (see Table 9, page 12).

I will never be rich. Mine will most likely always be a life of financial mediocrity, resigned to entertaining but never living out fantasies of a more affluent lifestyle. I'll never have a yacht, London flat, private airplane, swimming pool, or gardener. I'll never be able to afford to travel to Venice before it sinks. And I'm not going to hold it against those that do have those things and can visit Venice (especially if they take me with!). Tax cuts for everyone or tax cuts for no one.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

A Death Sentence

Over the past several days, HomeAgain, our pets' microchip company, has sent out "Lost Pet in Your Area" email alerts featuring at least three cats who went missing. Each cat had been declawed. Short of finding their way home or being found those three cats don't really have a chance. Since they have no front claws they can't climb trees or fences to escape dogs and they can't really defend themselves against other cats. Their ability to catch mice, insects and other animals that might help keep them alive is severely diminished. Add to that the fact that overnight temperatures in the Atlanta area have been in the 20's with highs during the days being in the 40's, and their prospects look grim.

People who get their cats declawed don't value their cats. Or, rather, they value their sofas and lounge chairs more than their cats. There's no knowing if any of the lost cats were declawed by their current or previous owners, but somewhere along the line someone thought so little of their cat's life that they paid money to surgically remove the cat's first line of defense. Anyone with an iota of common sense knows cats are the ultimate escape artists, and no conscientious owner would have placed their cat in the situation now facing those three lost cats.

As I type this my right index finger is throbbing from a nice gash Jackson inflicted on me last night. Despite routinely clipping his front claws since he was a kitten there's no way to count the number of scratches my hands, arms, knees and legs have endured over the past 11+ years. The other weekend Ida had to once again cut fraying threads from a $400 chair that Lucy likes to sleep on - being too fat to jump up on the chair, Lucy claws her way to the top. In fact, we don't have a single piece of furniture that doesn't bear the tell-tale evidence that a fully-clawed cat lives in our house. Of course, it all could have been avoided had we each had our cats declawed, but we never placed our material things or our own inconvenience over the well-being of our cats. The value our cats bring to our lives far exceeds the cost of every piece of furniture in the house and every tube of Neosporin we've had to buy. I can always get another sofa or chair; the cats, on the other hand, can't be replaced.

I feel sad for the owners of those cats - losing a pet is heart-wrenching. But I feel more for the cats. Cats are tough, resourceful animals, and though lost, cold and completely out of their element those three cats would normally have a fighting chance. However, thanks to people, they don't have any front claws, and so the odds are now against them. People who have their cats declawed are cruel, irresponsible, and selfish.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Any Volunteers?

USA Today recently reported on how charitable Americans are with their time and money. Not surprisingly financial donations are down; however, the number of people volunteering is trending upwards. A long-time financial contributor myself and but usually a step or two behind the trendy, I'm happy to say that I, too, can now be counted among the volunteers.

In October I started volunteering at a cat shelter, Furkids. In some ways it was a selfish decision. I finally came to accept the reality that I am never going to be a humanitarian, a Carnegie, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Duke or Sloan, and that the only thing my name will likely adorn will be a grave stone, a very grand one, mind you, but a grave stone nonetheless. Humbled by this epiphany, I began thinking of how I could make a difference in the world, and naturally cats came to mind. I toyed with the idea of helping people, like supporting literacy efforts and teaching immigrants conversational English, but helping people is why we have churches, right? So, cats won the day.

It's a no-kill, cage-less shelter with about eleven good-sized rooms where the cats hangout on elaborate cat trees and shelves, and I would estimate that there's well over 100 cats total. I'm generally assigned a room or two to clean litter boxes, refresh water and food bowls and sweep and mop the room. It doesn't leave a lot of time for socializing (industry speak for petting) the cats, which was my true desire when I started but I'm OK with that. The world needs its ditch diggers and this shelter needs its litter scoopers.

This isn't my first volunteer gig. When we lived in Ithaca, Ida and I both volunteered at the Cortland County SPCA doing pretty much what I do now except the cats were all in cages. I got sucked into running for and winning a seat on the Board of Directors, thinking that I would be even better positioned to do some good. Man, was I an idiot. Small town politics usurped every meeting, and frustrated that we hadn't done a thing to help the animals, I stepped down and never looked back. I'll do most anything for cats...except work with small-minded people. If I win the lottery, I'll start my own shelter and/or a ranch where disabled and disadvantaged kids can ride horses and care for other farm animals. Until then, I'm satisfied with the grunt work of keeping the cat rooms clean.

Lest you think I care for animals more than I do people...oh, wait...I do care for animals more than I do people! But I'm not completely lacking in compassion for my own. This year I donated to the Haiti relief efforts, helped Ida serve dinner at a Ronald McDonald house, collected and redeemed yogurt tops to fight breast cancer, and for the past three holiday seasons I've donated to the Atlanta Food Bank and Heifer International. This year through Heifer I gave the gift of honey bees. It's not nearly enough to get a building wing, street corner, or elementary school named after me (they'd probably spell my name wrong anyway), but that's alright. I can only do what I can do and hope it makes a difference to someone...or something.

Here kitty, kitty, kitty...


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Sunday, 27 March 2011

Day 38: The road to happiness

The road to happiness
The road to happiness is a long and winding path
with ups and downs, hills and bumps,
there are roads, motorways and footpaths
some times people will slow you down
but don’t you ever stop and give up
this is where lessons are learnt
this is where your life will lead
this is where you find
your happiness
on the road
not at the end
\               /

\          /
\       /

Hello again audience,today's blog I thought it would be a good idea to start with a poem and I tried to shape it like a road :) I thought I good question for today's blog is that does happiness have to be earned or is it just given or received? I believe that happiness has to be earned by working hard you will get the most out of life even though some people are there just to muck it up for you. I hope everyone is enjoying their lazy Sunday today's one will not be so lazy for me as I will begin my work for my assignment :P But until next time I hope you all have a good week! and continue on your road to happiness.

Now some random facts!

Happiness is a mental state of well-being characterized by positive emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy. A variety of biological, psychological, religious, and philosophical approaches have striven to define happiness and identify its sources.
The science of happiness endeavors to apply the scientific method to answer questions about what "happiness" is, and how we might attain it.
Philosophers and religious thinkers often define happiness in terms of living a good life, or flourishing, rather than simply as an emotion. Happiness in this older sense was used to translate the Greek Eudaimonia, and is still used in virtue ethics.

Happiness economics suggests that measures of public happiness should be used to supplement more traditional economic measures when evaluating the success of public policy.

  1. Crystal Metzler27 March 2011 at 21:10

    Lovely pictures today. Something about a long winding road! Endless and hopefull of reaching your destination. I like seeing your road signs too! Isnt it funny how they differ from state to state? :) loved the poem too! I think your question today is a tough one. It depends on what each persons view of happiness is? Some people are perfectly happy being homeless and broke, or alone, or rich, and some aren't? I would look at a homeless poor person and think "how can they be happy?" but some of them are? I love this quote and use it often: "what you put into life, is what you get out of it" and i think that is very ture. Some are happy doing and getting the bare minimal, some are happier working hard and getting more out of life! I dont work as hard as id like and am not happiest in my financial life, but i am very happy in my family and personal life! So i am 50/50 right now. Lol

  2. Thinking about it life really is like a long and winding road, as in you go through different stages. Sometimes its lonely and dark and other times its lit up with the amazing scenery that surrounds it. We may encounter obstacles along the way but ultimately we just have to keep on going until we reach our destination.
    On the subject of happiness, I do think it has to be earnt the majority of the time to gain our self fulfilment, whatever that may be, but life can throw us little surprises which can bring happiness.


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Thursday, November 3, 2011

Rs.190mn NAB recover misused amount

PESHAWAR: The National Accountability Bureau (NAB) of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa accomplished to deposit Rs.190 million embezzled money in the national  chequer Voluntary Return.
The inquiry into the illegal allotment of plots in Ghazikot Township Mansehra by the officials of Mansehra Development Authority was authorized in May, 2009 on the direction of Supreme Court, says a NAB press release here on Thursday.
Consequently, NAB KPK not only conducted inquiry but also charged the perpetrators of corruption i.e. the officers of MDA and a draft reference were forwarded to NAB Headquarter Islamabad.
The illegal allottees of plots were given voluntary and plea bargain notices under Section 25(a) and (b) of NAO, 1999. The former Chairman NAB had delegated special powers to Director General, NAB KPK to settle the VR and PB cases in MDA.
All plea bargains were recommended by Director General NAB KPK on merit as the Judge Accountability Court also verified the decision of NAB authorities. This enabled NAB to recover looted money of more than Rs.150 million from the illegal allottees through BP.
In another case of state vs Haji Gul Sher, ex-senator, NAB succeeded to recover a total of Rs.40.630 million. Brief fact of the cases are that provincial government decided to acquire land for construction of Northern Portion of Ring Road to reduce traffic congestion in the main city of Peshawar.
Peshawar Development Authority (PDA) and Projects Management Unit were responsible for the project. The accused persons namely Haji Juma Sher and Haji Khatum Gul received Rs.35.693 million and Rs.32.802 million respectively in respect of land claimed to be owned by them.
The statement further said that it was reported that the then Chief Minister Aftab Ahmad Khan Sherpoo, Minister Local Government Habibullah Kundi and Revenue Staff N/Teshildar Mosam Khan, Patwari Nisar, Patwari Dilawar Khan and LAC Muhammad Ayub, allegedly allowed exorbitant rates per marla to give undue benefits to influential land owners.
It was therefore, considered necessary to order an inquiry / investigation to ascertain the real facts and reference was sent to Accountability Court.
In the meanwhile, the accused applied for PB and also requested to re-assess the market value.In the light of above, the said amount was recovered through PB. The total loss made goods to the public exchequer comes to Rs.190 million.
It is also clarified the money recovered through VR and PB is directly deposited in government treasury and there is no question of manipulation as perceived in the news item which appeared in various Urdu newspapers on 31st October, 2011 where Director General NAB KPK, Brig (R) Muhammad Musaddiq Abbasi was wrongfully alleged in committing favours and acting against the orders of Supreme Court. All plea bargain cases are duly approved by the Courts before attaining the finality.

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Someone Like Me is a song sung in The Tigger Movie.

Lyrics Edit

Mostly I'm happy and I'm bouncy Because I am the onliest one (hmm hmm hmm) But now all at once I feel so lonely For someone like me (Someone like me)

Right now I'm sorta feelin' downcy I'm just about the loneliest one (hmm hmm hmm hmm) And deep in my heart I'm sort of wishin' For someone like me (Someone like me)

Somebody with springs and things Who laughs and sings and jumps everyday Somebody who's fun, fun, fun Who loves to trounce and pounce And bounce the gloomies away (hoo-hoo)

How I dream there is another A double or a triple of me (To keep him company) But since I'm awake I feel so lonely Because I know it can't be (It never can be)

Bein' the I'm the one and onliest me Someone like me


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Friday, January 25, 2013

The Bad Egg

[Fiction Friday Challenge #02 - 1st Draft]
Invent a / your character (who) has two personality traits that are completely incompatible, that don't fit together at all. For example: this character is incredibly messy and is also a total perfectionist. Or: this character is a pacifist and also has a really explosive temper. Or: this character believes in strict, traditional family values but is promiscuous by nature. You decide. Then think of a situation in which these two sides of your character would be in direct conflict with each other. Write the story / scene.

“Men? Any questions?”

A delicate cough interrupted the silence.

He sighed.

“Ladies….and men! Any questions? Alright, you have your instructions!”

Suddenly, the Captain slammed his papers onto the table and reached up to rake his hair with his hook in frustration. “Folks, I cannot emphasize how important this is. He is one of our men and we don’t leave one of us behind!”

Chairs scraped as each body made to leave the briefing room, realizing that the Captain was right. They filed out solemnly, each giving the Captain a silent promise; they were not going to leave him behind, and headed to the weapons room.

Each went straight to collect their weapons of choice: Knives, guns, bows and arrows, swords, sliver, holy water and magic wands, and began strapping them to their black uniform.

One of them, Peter, was looking grim. They had been looking for the perpetrator for 6 months. If the sources were correct, they were going to be able to get that son of a bitch tonight!

They had too! Peter thought vehemently. Too many children have gone missing! The world outside will begin to notice.

“Hey Pan! Let’s go!” Peter turned. It was Tiger Lily, his second in command. Behind her, his team, The Lost Boys - specially trained in warfare techniques and armed combat! They were deadly, and they were ready.  But some…one was missing. “Where is she?”

“Tink? She said she will meet us there.”

Grabbing his duffle bag, he followed Tiger Lily out. Smiling a little when one of the dwarfs whistled and the other chimed in mockingly, “…while you work” – which elicited laughter all around. The mood lightened considerably.

Peter Pan began whistling himself and headed straight to the door to the parking lot, passing a huge insignia on the wall, which read, “Protection and Investigation of Magical Persons Bureau”, otherwise referred to by the general populace as P.I.M.P. - the 'B' was silent.

The alarm went off. A voice groaned and reached over to slam it off.

“Stupid alarm.”

Bleary eyes peered to look at the time. 7pm.

Almost dark. Al thought. Scratching his balls, he yawned and stretched. He groaned. He gingerly  held the side of his face. It was swollen and throbbing. He grimaced. The pain in his tooth had gotten worst! Shaking his head, hoping to clear the pain, he slumped out of bed and shuffled to take a piss by the side table near the bed.  Leaning over to his left with his other free hand, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and gulp it down. Looking down, he impatiently said, “Now pee dammit!” Rolling his eyes upwards and grunted with relief as hot liquid spurted out finally.

Finishing the last of the whiskey, he belched and threw the empty bottle behind the sofa. His stomach growled. He was hungry. Suddenly, with a harsh intake of breath, his hands began to shake as sharp stabs rolled up on his sides, forcing him to bend over from the pain.

Al began salivating and making painful, mewling sounds. He needed FOOD! There was left overs from last night’s feast, Chinese!

Stumbling past the soiled, unmade bed and a green shag carpet strewn with rotten garbage and empty liquor bottles, he headed in to the mini fridge in the side alcove of the motel room. Holding on to the side wooden cabinet with glass sidings, he steadied himself and flung opened the fridge door! Dirty, clawed paws, desperately shoving the contents within into his open maw; he couldn’t swallow fast enough. He slid to his knees and began to gorge like the gluttony of a drug addict.

Through sickly, yellow light cast by the fridge, Al saw his reflection against the glass sidings. He was gnawing on a bone. He stopped to stare. His fur was matted, thick with dirt and dried blood. His eyes were bloodshot red. His whiskers were droopy and lank, while his mouth was bloodied with bits of flesh. The side of his face was swollen from the bad tooth. Moving his eyes up, he saw his ears, they were flopped over, no longer majestic and proud.

So, in a seedy, dark motel room by Jarvis Street, over the sounds of chewing, slurping and bone crunching, Al, the Easter Bunny, finished the last remains of a Chinese little boy he kidnapped last night.

How could you?

Startled, Al dropped the bone and scrambled closer to peer at his reflection!

How could you?

The soft voice asked again.

You were supposed to be the champion of children around the world! Giving out chocolates eggs and candy treats. Now, you eat them!

The voice said sadly.

“Who are you?” Al growled.

His paw rose to gently trace his reflection.

I am you. Before the pain from the tooth took you over and changed you. Please stop and go Home. They can help you! This pain you have? The need to eat children? It's the pain making you crave the sweet flesh of children. It is their innocence you are craving. Innocence - it is what you are missing! You need to go home and have that tooth removed! Go Home! They can help you! Will you stop and go Home?

Pleaded the voice.

“Home?” Al said. It was hazy but he remembered a little of a place called Home. Filled with rainbows, butterflies and happiness. Filled with flowers, sunshine and laughter. Filled with rules and regulations and forced visits to the dentist! The dentist! Shuddered Al.

No! He won’t go back! Grabbing the bone off the floor, he smashed hard against the glass sidings to break it. Grunting, he stood up. He was hungry again and needed to get more food. Careful not to look at the broken glass, he walked by and began hopping out of the motel room to search for his next meal.

“Peter! He’s on the move, headed south on Yonge Street.” Crackled voice suddenly came on through his earpiece. Adjusting it, Peter whispered some last instructions and signaled the rest of the team to get ready. Peter looked worried.

Tiger Lily grabbed his hand to reassure him, “He will see the signs and follow. Belinda is a good witch and her spells will work! He is after all a magical person! Maybe a little furry!” The attempted joke made Peter smile. Tiger Lily was right. Those casted spells were powerful and will lure Al to here!

“Peter! He saw the signs! He is following them. ETA in 5 minutes!”

Gesturing signals to his team, Peter turned and hurried up the steps to get into boy’s bedroom. He quickly and quietly slid between the blankets of the bed and forced his breathing to slow down. He didn’t want Al to get a whiff of him. He hoped the smell of the boy on the blankets would mask and hide him from Al’s detection. The boy and his parents were safely tucked in the attic. Belinda spelt them to sleep. Two of his dwarves were guarding them. Peter hoped the reports were right and that Al would break into the house through the basement, not the attic.

Hearing heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, Peter feigned sleep.

Al rubbed his snotty nose with the back of his furry, ragged arm and walked into the boy’s room. The boy smelt so good. So sweet.

Shutting the door quietly behind him, he peered around. Toys on the floor, with half made forts and colored drawings stuck to the walls. Al’s eyes saw family photos. Ah. The boy’s name is Billy. Turning back to the sleeping form on the bed, Al drew in another deep breath. Hmmmmmm, Billy smelt sweet!

Closer now, Al whispered gently, “Oooooh Billy….Billy. Its me, the Easter Bunny…and boy do I have a surprise for you!” Preparing to pounce, Al laid his knee on the bed.

Suddenly, Peter flung out the blankets over Al and jumped up! Al, falling back onto the floor, surprised! Growling to get up, Al yowled when strong hands held him back. Looking behind him, he saw Jack and The Giant holding him, and to the sides, a few of the lost boys holding a bow and aiming an arrow at him.

Snarling, Al turned back to the figure before him, “Peter Pan!”

“Aloysius Greenhill. We have been searching you for a long time.” Peter knelt and smiled coldly, “You have been a bad bunny.”

Shaking his head, Peter paused and stared, "Al, we've been friends for a while now...the pain must have been that bad because this isn't the real you. If you had just gone to the doc for your checkups, she would have found that bad tooth and taken it out! Can't you see? You have changed! The toothache has driven you mad and making you crave the flesh of children! Will you come Home, willingly submit to the dentist?"

“I’m the fucking Easter Bunny, I am cute. I can do no wrong!” Growled Al.

Crinkling his nose over the stench, Peter sighed and stood up. Ignoring Al, he continued, “Alright Al. You have given me no choice. By the doctrines established over this land, section 3A, paragraph 2, I hereby proclaimed that laws have been broken and thereby giving me, Peter Pan, rights over one,” peering down at Al, “Aloysius Greenhill, all in presence say ‘aye’!”

A chorus of ‘ayes’ and one grumpy ‘nay’.

“What you gonna do Pan?” sneered Al. “You have no magical powers to make me to do anything, and that bitch Belinda? She ain’t got the juice to even get me off!” He laughed out loud, suggestively.

Peter smiled, this time, warmly, “Oh Belinda and I won’t. But someone else will!” Peter whistled and out flew Tinker Bell!

“Ha! What’s that LITTLE fairy gonna do?” Al eyed Tinker Bell suspiciously.

“She’s not just any fairy, Al." Peter smiled evilly. "She also moonlights as the Tooth Fairy!"

Laughing at Al's shocked face, Peter stood back, "And tonight, we are going to do a little extraction. Tink's going to remove your SWEET TOOTH!” Turning to his men, Peter said, “Hold him down boys!”

Moving closer, Tink grinned, “Open wide silly rabbit!”

A pure look of terror shone out red, rabbit eyes, Al began to scream.

--The End--

Friday, January 18, 2013

Jams For Jesus

[Fiction Friday Challenge #01 - 1st Draft]
Your character commits a crime. (What is the motive?) Your character's husband/wife/S.O., discovers your character changing, dealing with the evidence, and wants to know what's going on. Write the conversation. What happens next?

Wh-eeash. Wh-eeash.

She paused at the bottom of the basement stairs and glared down with resentment at the orthopedic shoes she was forced to wear. She hated those shoes and the sounds it made. It was the only type of shoes she could wear comfortably without having shooting pains up her spine. She glared at the shoes again. Turning to shut carefully the opening in the wall, cleverly built with shelves to hide a door to a secret room, she bend over to pick up a basket of her jellied jars and saw bits of bloodied cheese-cloth peeking out from under the wall. She swore, then chastised herself for swearing! She didn’t have time and toed some boxes to hide them instead.

Giving the shoes a final sneer, she sighed resigned and struggled up the stairs with the basket. The wooden steps creaked, each board bending under protest at her gargantuan body. Wh-eeash. Wh-eeash.

She paused halfway up, the basket clincking while she tried to catch her breath. The upstairs wooden cuckoo clock chimed 12 o’clock; she was late, very late. Raising her fat arm, she swiped her hair and sweat beads aside, and hurried up the final last steps. She stopped when she heard her kitchen screen door opened.

“Mar-tha! Maaar-thaaa! It’s me, Alma!”

Martha’s face twisted in disgust. She’d known Alma’s voice anywhere. That harlot’s voice was like a sow in heat….after being ridden, she thought crudely and snorted!

Martha took a deep breath and assumed the expression befitting a Christian sister with the Women’s Auxillary Group, Daughters of Virtue of the Southern Mount Baptist Church, affectionately known as DOVs. Her face suddenly filled with warmth and dimpled smiles, she walked out into the kitchen.

“Martha! For landsakes! You aren’t ready yet. You aren’t wearing that, are you?” Alma eyed Martha's polyester periwinkle blue  housecoat up and down over her bifocals. “John is in the automobile waiting to drive us! For landsakes! Hurry up and get changed! Are those the new batches of jelly?” Making shooing noises, Alma grabbed the basket to inspect the jellies. Alma had turned 65 last Tuesday and justified her bossy nature by believing that anyone younger than 65, needed her guidance. Martha was 64. Of course, she did not hate Alma because of what happened 10 years ago - the night Alma got drunk and tried to seduce the back porch...of Church!

Turning to walk towards her bedroom at the back of the house, Martha’s face twisted into a rage. Stupid heifer! She hated Alma.

Walking down the hallway, Martha passed walls of pictures; of family, church picnics….and tenants - she rented her garage room to retired Christians. Gently straightening the frames, she heard snoring in the other room and smiled. That would be George, her husband of 45 years. She met him when she was 19 and he was just 22. Sweet George. She loved him fiercely.

“Martha! Hurry on up!”

Martha sighed. She hated that....breathing slowing, she allowed herself to think...SLUT!

Two hours later, firmly seated at the DOVs round table, sounds of delicate, joyful bites of crackers and Martha's new jelly concoction, the meeting was ajourned. The Daughters had agreed that they were going to sell Martha’s famous jars of jelly again to help raise the funds they needed for the next Southern Christian Convention. The ladies were talking excitedly for ‘Jams for Jesus’ night and the Jam Competition they were organizing this year again. Some in hush voices, wondered if after 3 years, anyone would be able to break Martha’s winning streak – they all agreed her jelly jams were to die for!

Waving goodbye to Alma, Martha walked in straight to the kitchen and immediately saw the yellow note stuck to the fridge. George had gone into town and would be back in time for supper.

Good. Martha thought as she hung her coat. That gave her enough time to bottle more of the new batches of the jelly – they should be cooled enough now down in the basement. She chortled, excited at the new recipe she had used! It had a spicy savory kick to it! As Martha headed to the basement, a loud knock came at the front door. Who the hell could that be? Walking towards the door, Martha saw that it was Sheriff Johnson. Keeping calm, she opened the door exclaiming with a smile,

“Good afternoon Sheriff Johnson, how are you? Tara and the kids?”

“Good Afternoon Martha – we are all fine. I’m sorry Martha but I am here on official visit.”

“Why Sheriff, sounds serious.”

“Martha, Jebediah Le Croix was a tenant of yours?”

“Why yes. But he left a few weeks ago to go back home to his people in New Orleans, I think. A sister?.”

“Yes that is the accounting folks in town been telling me. His sister called us, he is missing.”

“On no! I am so sorry to hear this, he was such a gentlemen!”

“So Martha, nothing suspicious you could think off?”

“No Sheriff. He was excited in leaving.”

“Alright Martha. If you think on anything else, could you give me a call?”

“Oh I certainly will Sheriff…my Lord, I’ll say a prayer too!”

Closing the door behind her, she purse her lips and started humming “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” and headed back to go down to the basement. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she pushed a lever to release the hidden door. Kicking aside the boxes, she reached down to pick up the bloodied cheese-cloths and walked in and reached up to turn a light on. Still humming, Martha threw the stained cloths into a black garbage bag and walked over to the cooling vat of liquid. Fishing a large ladle hanging on the side of the wall, she began gently scooping all the gel-substance on the surface into a sieve and bucket untill only black liquid was left. She smiled at the amount gathered; she was going to be able to make at least 30 jars of jelly!

Please with the quantity, she sang even louder…”Are we weak and heavy laden, cumbered with a load of care…” - and did not hear her front door opening and the footsteps overhead.

Wrinkling her nose over the noxious smell, Martha grabbed the edges of the vat and hauled it to a make shift sink and heaved over the contents. The coppery bitter smell intensified as soupy, black, thick liquid, and small and big floating brown bits, made its way out of the vat, over into the sink. As Martha poured the remaining liquid out, big solid chunks of….bones….fell out. Whistling now, she began gathering the bones, as long as her arm, and threw them into the waiting black garbage bag below her. Peering into the vat, Martha reached in to free a last piece of bone, and held it up against the light. It was a human skull. She giggled and started whispering to the skull….

“Martha….? I'm back early. Sheriff Johnson gave me a ride....” A shocked George looked in from the opening of the wall. “What’s going on here”? Walking in, he looked around the room. On the far right on metaled shelves, neatly stacked, were several human skulls, beside each, a framed photo. Walking closer, he realized in horror, they were all pictures of tenants Martha and he had over the last 3 years. In the middle shelve, an empty space with a framed picture of…..Jebediah Le Croix, the missing man. Leaning closer, George grimaced at the scotch-taped yellow paper that said, "recipe for cajun savory"!

Following behind George, a voice apologising to Martha for the disturbance, explaining that he had run into George and asked if he could buy some of the famous jelly jams, was Sheriff Johnson! He skidded to a stop, his words caught midway. “Oh God Martha! What the hell….!” Sherrif Johnson began swearing, ripped his walkie talkie to call the station.

“Martha. What have you done?” George asked in hushed tones. In the background Sheriff Johnson was yelling asking for more officers and a forensic team.

Martha answered in a weird voice, still staring at the skull, "They were all almost on their way to Heaven, George. At least that's what happened to the first one, Mr. Andrew Dickson. He had died and I didn't know what to do. I had just returned from Church. The Daughters had decided on making jams to help raise the funds needed for our Convention. You weren't here. You were visiting our son in Virginia." Continuing, she smiled, "Besides, they were all old, I was just helping them to meet Jesus. And, they.....they were instruments in helping raise money for God!"

Martha turned from the skull to George, then to Sheriff Johnson as he walked in again, this time with handcuffs in tow.

Martha screamed!
“God damn you! I was just going to finish bottling up Mr. Le Croix! He was the last of my savory batch. I was going to start with my sweet batch next week. It was going to be a new recipe I was trying out!!” Eyeing Alma’s picture on the table as Sheriff Johnson cuffed her - she was going to frame Alma's picture that evening. Too bad. Martha thought. She had ordered all that extra organic honey for Alma.

-- The End --

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Thursday, January 10, 2013

A Monster’s Requiem

[1st Draft]

He took a longer, deep, drag of his cigarette, this time, holding that sweet smoke in until he felt light-headed and dizzy from the lack of air. He loved the feeling of being weightless, devoid of thoughts and presence, just a feeling of euphoria. He released the smoke slowly, almost reverently, pursing his lips into an ‘O’ making smoke-rings. They looked like halos. He thought, amused.

His half opened eyes, heavy lids hiding grey intelligence, lazily traced the smoke-rings above him. He wondered briefly, at the rings, where the essence of the smoke went when it disappeared? Did the essence have 'essence souls'? In essence....a Spirit? Smoke Spirit? He chuckled softly at his clever words. Father Pietro would not be amused at all at his blasphemy. Father Pietro….he smiled fondly recalling the time…..WAIT!

He suddenly stood up, dropping his half-smoked cigarette. A memory! He had remembered something! This mind had loosened its hold and allowed a memory to escape. He mustn’t lose it again. It had been so long!

He took slowed measured breaths, afraid, least this precious memory disappeared. He held this curdle, gently in his mind, like a newborn. He went strand by strand, hoping to gain more glimpses, more clues from this lost maze. His hands clench tightly on the sides of the old leather armrest, creaking strains protesting against the sudden violence. No! He cannot lose this! Not again!

And as fast as it came, the memory slipped away. He was back again in the dark.

He looked around the room with tortured grey eyes now, only a single candle alight to show his anguish. For a moment, he saw dim shadows dancing on the walls, struggling seemingly to get closer to the light for warmth....or were they mocking him?

Why can’t he remember?

He closed his eyes and sat heavily back down; quiet again, only his harsh breathing could be heard.  He wanted to rally against this injustice, beat his head into submission, take a knife and cut the truth out….maybe just cut his life instead. Leave this existence. He could go and find out where the essence of that smoke disappeared to.  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave now that he found Her. Her.

A muffled sound broke his thoughts of Her.

He opened his eyes and turned to the window. Was it time yet? He jumped out and walked purposefully to the opening and hungrily stared out. Was it time yet?

There She was. He gazed at Her lovingly. Longingly.

Lying quietly and still, Her beauty shone from within her alabaster skin, touches of orange, glows from candlelight, colored slightly her petal, turned lips and cheeks, giving it a pink hue. Her hair, color of black coals, with sliver specks looked almost alive by the flickering candles.

She was so beautiful. Unearthly. Almost an angel. And he wanted Her, all of Her. But the Doctor said He had to wait. Tonight was the last night of the procedure. Then He could have Her, the Doctor had said. Jealously twisted deep in him. He didn’t know why. He didn’t want the Doctor to touch Her.

The rage began to build. She was to be his. She belonged to him. Only Him. The rage took over and his mind began to fill with thoughts of killing. He saw his hands, wet and red, clutching a knife, plunging in deep into a chest. He marveled at the blood, the way it sang to him as it ran down his arm. He raised his hand to admire the red thickness of it. Ah…it smelt sweet.  So sweet! Did he dare? He raised the tips of his fingers and tasted, tentatively at first. Yes! It tasted as sweet as it smelt. He shifted his weight and looked down. His other hand was twitching uncontrollably. He saw the blade in it, and looked curiously. Where did he get the knife? He raised it closer and saw his reflection; grey eyes against grey steel amidst the blood, and saw eyes turning from glee to horror!

He blinked furiously and looked around! He was still in his shadowed room! It was just a memory, come, and now gone. More questions. His raged filled him again until he could hear his harsh breathing, drumming loud in his ears like a war song.  He looked up and saw the lying form. Her. He uttered a ragged groan. His eyes forcibly softened and the rage calmed.

Tonight. You will be finally be mine, He thought and began musing of all the things He would show Her, all the grand adventures they would share together. Together.

He smiled gently to himself. He would not be alone again. Ever. Now that he has Her. He looked anxiously at Her again, making sure it was real and not a dream. In his musing, He had not notice the door opening. A loud slamming brought his eyes, straining to his left. It was the Doctor and his assistant.

The Doctor eagerly walked towards Him, and leaned over to whisper feveredly, “Are you ready? Eager to HEAR her beating heart, as much as my eagerness to FEEL her heart beat? A life hangs in the balance tonight!” Laughing hysterically, the Doctor turned to point at the hanging pulley as it began to crank, synching up bit by bit pulling Her body up. Lightning flashed outlining Her motionless body jerking by the force of the pulley as it swung side to side. Higher and higher to the gnawing hole in the castle’s roof where several large metal coils stood ready.

Looking ahead at a mirror, He saw his vile, roughly sewn bits of flesh; deep, jagged cuts with thick, bulbous mounds marking where different colored skins were hacked and joined into red flesh with careless sewing. Only grey eyes marked him to be a man. What MAN?  His rage came alive at the thought and raw visage before him. The Doctor did this to him! Made him into this monstrous animal!

Sounds of moving chains grinding as He looked again, out of the windows of his eyes, this time a murderous grey. A low guttural voice came out, like rock on steel. He growled quietly, “Yesssss Doctorrrr. Tonight. A lifeee hangssss in the balaaance.”

The Doctor turned and gestured wildly to his assistant, “Igor! It is time! The storms are ahead and the final steps must be taken tonight! Tonight! She will be ALIVE!”

Overhead, thunder howled at the lashing winds.

Soon, He thought.

The Monster turned again to Victor Frankenstein and smiled. He will need to find a knife.

- The End -


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Saturday, 22 December 2012

And So this is Christmas

The war is not over, and it never will be until Scientology and all other money making cults are told in no uncertain terms they are not wanted in our world, the world is a bad enough place without these monsters that prey on unsuspecting people.

A song for Scientologists:
"I gave them my life... They drained my very soul..."

And another one:

Second Chance for L. Ron Hubbard - I think not.

Narconon shut down

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The Splined Miter Joint

How to Make a Splined Miter Joint

Splined mitre joint jig used on the table sawThe woodworking video shows how to make a splined miter joint on the table saw using a splined miter jig that is made in the woodworking shop. The jig for the table saw is easy to make and yet very accurate when cutting miter joints that include a spline. Notice how the plywood miter jig is slid along the surface of the table while sliding also against the table saw fence. Also, an 8 inch dado blade is used to cut the slot for the spline while a clamp secures the picture frame to the miter jig.

Walnut spline miter joints for a mahogany picture frame.The Splined Miter Joint is a decorative yet very strong joint. The addition of the spline and glue makes a regular miter joint all the more stronger while aiding in keeping the miter joint nice and tight. By using a wood spline that is of a contrasting wood, the woodworker can achieve a very distinctive appearance at the miter corners. This is why it is a favorite woodworking joint used when making a picture frame. (This joinery was cut on the table saw with the aid of a sliding woodworking jig. The splined miter joint can also be cut on the router table as well.)

Walnut splined mitre joint in a mahogany picture frameNote: The grain of the wood spline needs to be in the slot at a right angle to the miter joint when glued in order to give the splined miter joint its full strength.

 Recommended Videos:

Let’s Make Splined Miter Joints

Let’s Make Picture Frames with the Dedicated Miter Sled

How to Make Perfect Miter Joints

The Apprentice and The Journeyman University

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Speak Your Mind

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Violent jihad in France 6

The sort of civil war that – as this video reports – immigrant Muslims are waging on the indigenous population of France, is likely to spread throughout Europe.

  • Frank

    The video was simply a preview of things coming to a neighborhood near you if the multiculturalists contnue to have their way.

    • George

      Yep , more like the “multidestructionists” for a better term !!!!!!

  • Ralph

    I’ve tried to explain what’s happening in Europe to my co-workers. So far I have had no success. It’s like trying to enlighten a toadstool. I’m going to show this video to them. Maybe it will make an impression on them.

    • George

      That’s because your friends ( just like mine ) have been brainwashed by the tyrannical Government Media Complex. They go through life with mental “blinders” on and only accept what they see on TV or the typical mainstream media. Keep plugging away guy and I hope the best for you.

  • Macnvettes

    The video also points out another flaw in the European system, most governments do not allow private ownership of guns for self-defense. In the city that I live in, there are some bad neighborhoods, but I have no fear of them because wherever I go, I carry a 9mm and a .357 magnum.

    • George

      You’re right Macnvettes . Without the second admendment , we cannot sustain or secure the first amendment. Gun control was designed to disarm the citizenry to defend themselves from tyranny of the government. If we outlaw guns , only outlaws will have guns !


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Artist Name
Calum Scott
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Kingston upon Hull, England, UK

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Artist Biography
Calum Scott (born 12 October 1988) is a British singer and songwriter who came to worldwide attention when he appeared as a contestant on the television programme Britain's Got Talent in 2015. He subsequently released his version of Robyn's hit "Dancing On My Own" as a single and it has reached number 2 on the UK Singles Chart.

Music career
2011–14: Early career
In 15 August 2013, Scott won the talent competition Mail's Star Search, organized by Hull Daily Mail. After, he joined a Maroon 5 tribute band, the Maroon 4, and toured around the United Kingdom. In 2014 he formed the electronic duo, The Experiment with John McIntyre. The debut single, "Girl (You're Beautiful)", was released on 14 June. The duo performed the song on Good Morning Britain and BBC Look North, but after, broke up.

2015: Britain's Got Talent
Main article: Britain's Got Talent (series 9)
On 11 April 2015, Scott's audition for the ninth series of Britain's Got Talent was broadcast on ITV. He performed a cover of Robyn's "Dancing On My Own" which he had heard Kings of Leon performing on BBC Radio 1's Live Lounge in 2013. Following a standing ovation from the judging panel, Simon Cowell pressed the Golden Buzzer giving Scott an automatic place in the live shows. Explaining his decision to send Scott straight to the semi-finals, Cowell said: "I've never ever in all the years I've done this show heard a guy with the talent you've got. Seriously. And the version was sensational, which shows to me that you're more than a singer, you're an artist and that's why you got that (the buzzer)." After this audition, Scott received support from stars such as Little Mix and Ashton Kutcher.

Following his appearance on the show's first episode, his Twitter followers jumped from 400 to over 25,000. As of 14 August 2017 the audition has been viewed exactly 120,378,372 times on YouTube. In the semi-final on 29 May, Scott performed "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off" by Jermaine Stewart. Cowell commented "You really sound like a recording artist", whilst David Walliams suggested that he could have "success around the world". He won the semi final with 25.6% of the vote, sending him straight through to the final. In the final on 31 May, Scott performed "Diamonds" by Rihanna and finished sixth out of 12 contestants with 8.2% of the vote. After Britain's Got Talent, Scott embarked on a series of shows around the United Kingdom, including Viking FM Future Star Awards, Flamingo Land Resort Fair, Westwood Cross Shopping Centre's tenth anniversary, Gibraltar Summer Nights, Hull Daily Mail's Star and Dartford Festival.

2016–present: Debut album
Scott released his cover of "Dancing on My Own" independently on 15 April 2016. It became a sleeper hit, first hitting number 40 in the charts in May, despite little radio airplay apart from on West Hull FM, it climbed into the top 40. It was then added to Radio 2's "C List" and reached number two on the UK Singles Chart on 5 August. In August 2016, it was certified platinum in the UK, having sold over 600,000 copies. Scott announced on Twitter on 24 May that he had signed a record deal with Capitol Records for his debut album. Scott performed the song at television shows BBC Look North, Lorraine, Weekend, Late Night with Seth Meyers and Brazilian show Encontro com Fátima Bernardes. He also promoted the song on several radio stations, including BBC Radio Humberside, Viking FM, Radio Gibraltar, BFBS Radio and Gibraltar Broadcasting Corporation. On 16 September, he released the promotional single "Transformar" with Brazilian recording artist Ivete Sangalo as official theme of 2016 Summer Paralympics Games. They performed the song at the closing ceremony of the Paralympics on 18 September. It was revealed in September 2016 that "Dancing on My Own" was the most downloaded song of the summer in the UK.

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Christopher Owens

A year and a half after former Girls frontman Christopher Owens released Lysandre, he's offering up another album. A New Testament, Owens' second solo effort, is due out September 30 via Turnstile and was produced by the same Doug Bouehm who worked on his solo premiere.

In Owens' own words, Testament will feature "honest, earnest, simple songwriting," and is "inspired by the fundamentals of American music — Gospel, Country, R&B." The songs are deeply personal as well, and Owens had a tough time picking which tracks went on the record. The cuts he chose were the ones that "[spoke] to me the most, of my memories, real life experiences, my battles, my victories."

Following the release of A New Testament, Owens embarks on a 13-date North American tour that concludes with a show at Great American Music Hall in San Francisco on October 11. While you're waiting on the new record and the Great American show, Owens has brought us a video for the single "Nothing More Than Everything to Me", which features his band playing sweetly at a middle school dance.

Here's the A New Testament tracklisting, and get full details on Owens' October Great American show below.

Christopher Owens, Tracklisting:
1. “My Troubled Heart”
2. “Nothing More Than Everything To Me”
3. “It Comes Back To You”
4. “Stephen”
5. “Oh My Love”
6. “Nobody’s Business”
7. “A Heart Akin The Wind”
8. “Key To My Heart”
9. “Over And Above Myself”
10. “Never Wanna See That Look Again”
11. “Overcoming Me”
12. “I Just Can’t Live Without You (But I’m Still Alive)”

Christopher Owens
Great American Music Hall
October 11, 2014
9pm, $21 (6+)


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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

How to Get Rich Quick: Become a Farmer

Just follow these 11 easy steps to find out how to "make it" as a farmer.

1.  Start with a shipment of heritage chicks.

2.  Build them a luxurious house with a large outside enclosure.

3.  Purchase an incubator.

4.  Wait until the chickens are old enough to produce fertile eggs (six months), then collect eggs over a period of seven days.

5.  Watch, wait and pray for three weeks.

6.  Entertain your kids for hours observing chicks hatching out of eggs.

7.  Start to panic after 24 hours and open the box to remove chicks (it smelled really bad in there).  Discover several hours later that you killed the remaining six chicks in their eggs by altering the humidity too much during the move.

8.  Enjoy the chicks for an evening, then drive them to a farm in the morning.  Comfort your weeping children.

9.  Introduce the chicks to hundreds of Cornish Cross chickens (who will grow large very quickly, but will never be able to fly or walk correctly).

10.  Check out their future home.  Our heritage Delaware chickens will lead a happy pasture-raised life on this farm.

11.  Collect your check for 22 dollars.  Pray that people at farmer's market will be interested in paying more money for heritage chicken meat so you can start the process all over again in a few months.

We may see our first profits in 2014!  At that time we will start looking into buying our second home in Italy.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The Ghost of Halloween Past

I was looking for a specific picture in my mom's great box of old photographs when I ran across some old Halloween pictures.  I discovered how horribly unimaginative I have been with my most recent costumes.  For example, in 2008, I went for the first time as a "belly dancer."

Imagine my shock when I found this photograph from 1986.  There I was: a scantily-clad belly dancer.  I'm not sure what my sister is.  Any guesses?

 In 2009, something drove me to put on a plastic bag and fill it with balloons.  I called myself a "bag of jelly beans."

My mom claimed she made up the idea.  Sure...Oh wait, dammit no!  I found this revealing photograph from 1985.  The hat really made this costume.

My senior year of high school I found a short, sequined  dress in my sister's closet.  I decided to go as a lady of the night (someone who exchanges certain favors for money).  I think I really fit the part and could have made a pretty penny out on the streets, if I don't say so myself.

Later, as I got to the end of the box of photos, I learned I had merely stolen my sister's Winter Formal look from four years earlier.  She classed the dress up with some black pantyhose and earrings.

After looking at all of the pictures, I now know my only options this year are clown or bunny.  Happy Halloween!


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The Passage

October 11, 2013 by
Filed under Books

by Barb Biggs, Boyd County Public Library Branch Manager

If you’re a fan of Stephen King and haven’t yet read The Passage, I would whole-heartedly recommend that you do, and soon. I say soon because it is coming to the big screen, directed by Matt Reeves (Cloverfield), and you don’t want to be the one person sitting in the theater who hasn’t read it.the passage

The Passage, written by Justin Cronin and published in 2010, is the first novel of a planned trilogy. The second book, The Twelve, came out last year, and the third is due to be released next year. Fair warning: the book is huge. Like, almost 800 pages. But it’s worth the investment.

It opens in the just-distant future as a group of scientists are hiking in the Bolivian jungle. They meet an unfortunate end, but their work lives on in a secret U.S. military base in Colorado, where, the government tries to develop a new immunity-boosting drug based on the virus carried by the South American bat that infected the scientists. The government believes that they can use the bat serum to transform death-row inmates (because who is going to miss a few of those?) into U.S. Army super-soldiers with an enhanced immune system, super strength and agility.

What they end up with is much more than they bargained for: “virals” that can control your dreams and rip you apart so quickly you don’t have time to fight back. Not that you could. Fighting the virals is impossible. And then the virals escape the military facility. An apocalypse is at hand and humanity is almost completely wiped out.

We then meet a six-year-old girl, Amy, and her mother. They are down on their luck when we meet them, and things go from bad to worse quite quickly. Amy gets recruited by the FBI to become a part of the medical experiments, called “Project Noah,” because they believe her young age will allow the virus to live with her symbiotically, and not violently as it did with the inmates.

Fast forward almost 100 years. A compound in California houses about 100 people who have survived behind walls and lights that never turn off. When Amy shows up there, their way of life is changed, and a quest begins. I don’t think I can really sum up the plot much more without giving too much away, so I’ll leave it at that.

Cronin isn’t your typical vampire writer. He graduated from the uber-prestigious Iowa Writer’s Workshop and had small, literary novels under his belt before The Passage was published. He said he first started developing his ideas in 2006 when his daughter asked him to write a book “about a girl who saves the world.”

The Passage was one of those rare manuscripts that ignites a bidding war before it’s even published (the advance was something around $5 million for the first two books, and $1.75 for film rights for just the first of the planned trilogy). I also want to mention that besides Bram Stoker’s Dracula, this is the first vampire novel I’ve ever read. In fact, I make a conscious effort to stay away from them. But the lure of this one finally got to me, and I’m glad I gave it a chance. It is a very well-crafted book with fleshed out characters and a fast-moving and thrilling plot. Plus, when the blockbuster film comes out, you can say, “Hey, I read that!”

You can find “The Passage” at BCPL. Place a hold on it today by visiting

Leigh Scaggs

About Leigh Scaggs

A long time supporter of digital emancipation and proclaimer of obfuscatory testaments, I have been a proud supporter of bits and bytes for nearly 20 years. With that much chronological highway behind me I'm cognizant enough of the fact that advancing age does kill brain cells and observant enough to notice that it's only killing the weak ones.

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Bang Off on Some Old Chicks

Watch best friends of 23 years, Ashley & Melissa, as they bung shit up on a daily. You'll laugh, you'll cry (from laughing)....but mostly, you'll just laugh. It's the feel-good blog of the year. Rated "fuckin awesome" by all of their followers (which would be just the two of them so far...), this blog is guaranteed to take bang off to a whole new level!

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Monday, November 23, 2009

unBUNG Heroes: On the Clock Idiotics

My idea of screwing around at work involves checking my Facebook and playing Spider Solitaire. These fine gentlemen, however, win the title belt of time-wasting at the work place. And I did say gentlemen, as in plural. Usually a person goes out of their way to make it look like they are NOT screwing around at work, and most generally go it alone. Not these dudes - they laugh in the face of job security and really go for some truly spectacular group slacking-off. And then they shared it with the world. It makes me feel both insanely proud and terribly inadequate, and I wish these guys were my BFFs.

Fellow BUNG Blogger, The Ash-hole, found this video on her friend's blog, Apparently, The Fair Weather Runner is just as proud of her brother-in-law's work ethic as we are!

We at the BUNG Blog are proud to present these "Lords of Lying Down on the Job" with our most prestigious title: you are our unBUNG Heroes. Keep those webcams rolling.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

The last time I blogged? Nineteen Schfifty Five

"It's been a long time. We shouldn't have left you. Without a dope beat to step to. Bikka bikka bikka baby girl." If you know that song, you're just as retarded as we are!

It's true, though. We shouldn't have aBUNGdoned you as we have. Just for that, I'm going to teach you a little something about my favorite number:

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

True Story Tuesday: Real Life Wedding Crashers

It's that time of year: wedding season. It's the time of year when your weekends fill up with weddings and all the related festivities. And once all of the craziness and months (or even years) of preparation have finally concluded and all the stress from all the details and events are finally out of the way, it's time to cut loose and celebrate!
Over the past several years, my husband and I have participated in several of our friends' weddings. And through the years, we have learned a couple of very valuable lessons: A) We should not be allowed to consume alcoholic beverages at such events or 2) We simply should not be invited.

Case in point: I was a bridesmaid in my very good friend's wedding 2 years ago this very day. At the reception, after a few too many glasses of wine, I thought it would be a great idea to go ahead and catch the bouquet. And yes, I was already married at the time. Not only did I catch the bouquet, but I DOVE for the darn thing, knocking all others out of my way to ensure that the bouquet was MINE. And by "all others," I mean a 4-year-old girl that desperately wanted to be the lucky one to catch the beloved bouquet. What followed it a bit of a blur, but I believe it was something along the lines of me spiking the bouquet into the dance floor as the little girl burst into tears. Needless to say, the bride was not too impressed...nor were most of the guests. In the end, I did feel bad, and I did give the bouquet to the little girl. The picture the photographer took of the bride with the bouquet-catcher was a photo of a splotchy-faced girl who had just been crying. As an aside, I'm not quite clear about this, but it's very possible that I passed out at a dinner table at the reception.

This past weekend was no exception to the wedding craziness. Only THIS time, it was my husband that acted a fool. The first sign that he had too much to drink was when he stepped on the dance floor. Let me tell you that in all the years we have been together, not ONCE have I ever EVER seen him dance. What he proceeded to do was a cross between skipping in place and a slow-motion running man. Apparently he thought he looked good because he continued to do this move throughout the rest of the night...first with the bride, and then with several other guests and bridesmaids.

By the end of the night, the man I call my husband had managed to vomit in a center piece, eject 2 glass vases from a moving vehicle into the middle of the street in a quiet residential area, drop and shatter a third glass vase in our driveway, and urinate in the corner of our bedroom. I'm not writing this post to entertain you...but more to WARN you: unless you want to see debauchery in full effect, DO NOT INVITE US TO YOUR WEDDING!

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

WTF Wednesday: Well, Hell's Bells...

Welcome to The Bung Blog's newest edition of WTF Wednesday.
This is an honest-to-goodness WTF. Let's even slow it down a bit: W. T. F.
Here's to making your mommy and daddy proud on national television...

This little gem comes to us from

And a quick note to
I could very well LOVE your site, except that I have to enter my credit card information in order to view it for "age verification purposes". Sure wish I could just say, "yeah, I'm 18" and get in. And don't I WISH I was only 18 again...

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

True Story Tuesday: Mommy's Keg Stand

I would like to give a shout out to our beloved follower, Jess,
for telling us to get off our asses and blogificate again.
This one's for you!

So, my brother graduated from college over the weekend.
Afterwards, he held the obligatory keg party in which family and friends attended.
Hilarity ensued when my mother, who in high school was known as "Two Can Judy"
decided it might be a nice time, at the tender age of 56, to do her first Keg Stand.

It was amazing! She even had good form! Someone came running up with their camera and said, "awwwww. I totally missed it," to which my mother replied, "I'll do it again!!!"

And so she did.

NOTE: Apologies for the audio. This was taken hastily with my camera phone, and somehow between my camera and my computer, the audio took a turn for the worse.
Although, I personally think it adds a little something to the video!

Notice the stumbling afterwards. And at the very end... is that a possible upchuck?

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Feel Bungtastic!!

We, at The Bung Blog, like to promote all things BUNG.
With that being said, you can imagine our surprise when we found an add for BUNG Balm! For one, how is there ANYTHING out there at this point in time with the word "BUNG" in it that we are not yet aware of?? And secondly, hello - we have Google Ads! Get that shit on there! We need an ad for Bung Balm, yo! So that ALL of our readers can feel Bungtastic ALL the time!

Friday, April 10, 2009

Photo Friday: Not Your Typical Peep Show

In honor of Easter, here is a peep show for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!

Ninja: High School Dance Edition

This thirsty Ninja's got some serious balls. And now, possibly mono.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Deep Thoughts Thursday

And THAT, my friends, is a DEEP THOUGHT THURSDAY.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Crappy Haircut

Now I know that everyone at one point in their lives has walked out of the hair stylist, looked in the car's rearview mirror for a quick inspection, and burst into tears. I myself have raced home from the beauty salon and started hacking away furiously with a pair of kitchen scissors to try to undo some of the haircut mishap damage. (FYI, this doesn't work.)

Hell, I've had my bestie give me a short haircut in 8th grade, which incidentally turned my head into a giant mushroom cloud. Once in high school, we even decided it would be a great idea to color our hair pumpkin orange, which I quickly realized didn't look great with my skin tone or ANY outfit you could ever possibly purchase.

But I must say, I've never had a shitty haircut quite like this one:

I've also never seen a turd fashioned out of hair before, but I guess I can check that off my "things to experience before I die" list.

WTF Wednesday: Petal Blossom Rainbow

If you are up to speed with your celebrity gossip, then you know by now that chef Jamie Oliver and his wife are the proud parents of a baby girl born April 3rd: Petal Blossom Rainbow. Seriously people, that's her name.

Um...I'm just wondering, were the parents on ecstacy when they named her? Why not opt for Glitter Sunshine Sparkle? Or Happy Love Skittle? I mean really...all three of those names are pretty far fetched...but could probably be pulled off if placed with a normal name. For example, Elizabeth Blossom Oliver, Petal Marie Oliver, or even Samantha Rainbow Oliver. But really - Petal Blossom Rainbow?? We, at the Bung Blog, feel that this borders on child abuse...and we only have one thing to say of this: WTF?!?!

Friday, April 3, 2009

Funky Fresh Friday: "B to the M"

We at The Bung Blog wish to introduce you to our official mascot.
This sour cream & onion breath bastard of a mythical creature was created by your Bung Blog authors 15 years ago on a high school basketball bus trip. A distant cousin to Napoleon Dynamite's "Liger", he had us from "Eat shit, Bunghole Breath!"

Today, we breathe life into our gelatinous glob by giving him a voice.
Here for your listening pleasure, I'm pleased to present - for the very first time ANYWHERE - The Bunghole Monster's first rap single, entitled "B to the M."

Please leave your comments for the BungMaster Flash!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

WTF Wednesday

This post really requires no words......just WTF.

WTF Wednesday

"Okay, everybody smile and say 'rabies'!"

Okay, so I laughed, nay, cackled about this until I started snorting, which in turn made me cry, which in turn caused a 10-ish minute long coughing fit.
But totally worth it.
Just another happy trip to the zoo.
Seriously, W. T. F.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Life Lessons in Rap

Today's Life Lesson in Rap: When afflicted with rap writer's block and feeling like a shitty rapper, simply make up a rap about how you're NOT a shitty rapper:

My style of rappin, my style
I'm such such a good rapper, I'm such a good rapper
I give you good and plenty, yeah yeah
My styles the bomb diggy, my style
My style of rappin
I'm such such a good rapper, I'm such a good rapper
I give you good and plenty hmmm hmmm
My style the bomb diggy
(Chorus from Missy Elliott's 'I'm Talkin')

Okay, Missy. We get it. Thanks for the reminder.

Monday, March 30, 2009

My kind of math...

I'm not a math person, never have been, never will be. But I don't feel alone - 3 out of 2 people have trouble with fractions, or so I hear. Enjoy these intelligent math solutions:

Friday, March 20, 2009

Real Life LOL...

Here it is, kids.... A real life tender moment, forever preserved in time:

A family laughing out loud about olives.

They probably put them back into the serving dish when they were done
fucking around with them. Remember that at your next holiday dinner.

And now, a few honorable mentions that I LOLed about:

Then what? Sunflower oil is made out of sunflowers?
Corn oil is made out of corn?
Vegetable oil is made from vegetables?
This shirt is fucking stupid.

But, unfortunately no one will love you because you wear faggoty shirts.

Bringing the hilarity back into pouring olive oil.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Thirsty Thursday: Kegerator

Welcome to Thirsty Thursday!
Today, we explore and pay homage to the evolution of the Kegerator.

For those of you who are unfamiliar and/or retarded,
Kegerator is a marriage of two words: Keg + Refrigerator. Figure it out, idiots.

See, Keg and Refrigerator had been making eyes at each other for years.
Keg was sick of his relationship with Icy Trashcan - she was always having meltdowns that left him lukewarm and flat the next morning. Fridge was fed up with her Cases of Beer, who always stayed so bottled up, and were always out of juice way too soon. Keg secretly wanted to get inside of Fridge, and Fridge was dying for someone to drill a hole into her and insert their spout.

* insert beer porn music here*

Now, the Kegerator came from modest beginnings,
as is evident from this fantastic redneck invention:

Slowly, Kegerator grew more sophisticaed,
and discovered a newfound attraction to fraternity guys.

Soon, she was opening her doors and flashing her tubes to any Tom, Dick, and Lucy.
Word spread, and everyone was doing her.

This classy young lady is shown proudly giving head to a Kegerator.
It's probably giving her plenty of "head" as well.

This school-minded college boy only has one glass to his name, and it's full of solidified milk.
No sense creating more dirty dishes than is absolutely necessary.

A Kegerator with choices: Because you're the only cheap fuck that likes Natty Light.

This proud Kegerator owner enjoys beer as much as he enjoys playing with balls.

Rocket scientists who love broskies. I've got news for you, nerds:
Your fancy ass Kegerator will be rendered useless
the first time Delbert gets wasted and blows chunks on the keyboard.

Thirsty? Saunter over to your nearest Kegerator, and give its shaft a little tug.
Cups optional.

Real Life LOL of the Day - LOLive Garden!

It's that time again, folks. Today, we at The Bung Blog, would like to present you with another Real Life LOL. So here you have it, yo: LOLive Garden. We invite and encourage you to use this phrase in a real life convo today. An example would be: "I LOLed so hard, I LOLed right on down to the LOLive Garden." Thanks for stopping by, and happy LOLing.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Thirsty Thursday: The Bung Slinger

It's Thirsty Thursday, yo! And you know what that means....time to pay tribute to a special alcoholic beverage. Today's featured beverage is the one and only BungSlinger. Now, the bung slinger may not be the tastiest of shots (let's face it, the alcohol used is Jack Daniels), but what's not to love about ANYTHING with "bung" in the title!

So get out there today and treat yourself to some bung!

Bung Slinger

Drink Type: Shooter - B
1/3 oz.
7-Up - (more)
1/3 oz. Jack Daniel's Whiskey - (more)
1/3 oz. Orange Juice - (more)

Combine in a shot glass & go for it!

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

WTF Wednesday

Welcome to another riveting edition of WTF Wednesday, where we discuss topics that make us say WTF?! Today's topic: the name "Trig," (namely Sarah Palin's lack of taste in child naming).

Let me first preface this blog with the fact that I would NEVER make fun of a child, let alone a child with a disability. I will, however, make all the fun in the world of Sarah Palin, a woman whose idiocracy makes me embarrassed to have ovaries.

Now seriously, who in their right mind (okay, okay, she's not in her right mind, so that should be our first sine right there) would name their child "Trig"?! As in TRIGONOMATRY!! I mean, really, this pretty much borders on child abuse. You know that's just setting him up to be called all sorts of names for the rest of his life. I can just picture it now:

"Hey Calculus!"
"Um, my name is Trig."
"Excuse me, Trigonomtry."
"No, just TRIG."

He'll constantly be hit up for help in geometry and algebra. He'll totally have to prove his worth to his classmates....he'll have to prove it like a theorem. This just isn't right (nor is it a right angle). I mean, the name is funny. I LOLed. You can even say I LOLgarithmed. But when it comes down to it, Sarah Palin once again makes me say WTF?!

Okay, I'm done with my tangent now. Really.

**This text color denotes math related terms for the numerically challenged.**

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Real Life LOL of the Day!

Here it is, folks - your real life LOL of the day: summer sLOLstice. I invite you to use this LOL in a real life convo today. Go ahead, summer sLOLstice your bungholes off!

Ever seen "Walker, Texas Ranger".... on weeeeeeed?

So, most of you know by now that here at The Bung Blog, we feature a new clip every week of Chuck Norris. Sometimes we show clips of ol' Chuckles roundhousing four dudes in a row. Sometimes he's endorsing a non-winning presidential candidate. Sometimes we zoom in real close and just slowly watch his beard grow. You never know what it's going to be, but one thing is for sure... it WILL be fuckin' awesome.

Last week, I found a Chuck clip like no other Chuck clips, and I just can't let it go without telling you about it. This is actually the reaction of two stoners watching an old episode of "Walker, Texas Ranger". Apparently, one of them gets the munchies and heads off to the kitchen during the most crucial part of the television program, and weirdness ensues. Check it out:

The best part? They were videotaping their TV playing the old-ass episode.

So, here's to you, stoners. Have another hit and rewind that shit.

Birthday: Bloggified!

Does everyone know what today is?! Not only is it the 69th day of the year (true story!) and the 32nd anniversary of the day astronomers discovered rings around Uranus (also true - there's a lot of cool shit about March 10th!!!) but is also the 30th anniversary of the day The Militia was expulsed from her mother's uterus! That's right, folks - please join me in wishing a fan-fucking-tastic 30th birthday upon my homie, my partner-in-crime, co-author of The Bung Blog: THE MILITIA!
This chica and I go waaaaaay back! I'm talking back to when our age was displayed in single digits, back when Reagan was the prez, and back before internetting (even DIAL UP!!!). 1986 was the year, and had it not been for a horrific wardrobe malfunction (a theme in our lives) in Mrs. Cooper's 2nd grade class, we just might not be where we are today. What would the world be like without Ash-Hole & The Militia?? Well, there would certainly be fewer water gun drive-by's, The Bung Blog would not exist (nor would the OBB - Original Bung Book), and the 7th sense would be completely unknown to all.
What have we been through in our near-23 years of BEST friendship? What HAVEN'T we been through?! From jumping on trampolines together and playing with our imaginary friend "Jade" who lived in the drain of my parents' pool, to driving across the country together and being in each others' weddings, we've been through it all. We've been roommates, we've been houligans, we've been hungover (duh), we've been considered straight up insane by most, we've been drunk, we've been in fights, we've nearly been arrested, we've been kicked out of public places, we've been each other's life lines. The Militia has always been here for me - she pushed me on the tire swing, she shared my first beer and first cigarette with me (both of which we stole from her step-dad), she let me cry on her shoulder during my first broken heart, she's held my hair while I puked on MANY occasions, she helped me move across the country when my relationship fell apart, she gave me a place to live when I had no where else to go, she stood up with me at my wedding, she STILL lets me call her to cry when things aren't going well, and she will always ALWAYS be my asexual vanilla!
So here's to all the horrible karoke we've sung, all the dancing on bars we've done, and to what is known as BUNG! May the next decade of your life be as bad assed as the first 3!

Friday, March 6, 2009

Funky Fresh Friday: An Amendment to Thugged Out Thursday

So, I totally fuckin' missed Thugged Out Thursday, and I'll be honest - I feel bad about it. I mean, I know... I realize... that our faithful followers need to be BUNG-rushed on a daily basis. Therefore, today I bring you Funky Fresh Friday: Thugged Out Thursday... A Day Late.

To make it up to you, I've composed a little ditty - okay, a hard core, thugged out, midwest white-girl rap. So, grab your nearest co-worker and tell them to lay down a phat beat before you bitch slap 'em:

I'm sorry that I've lately been a BUNG Blog neglector
Just workin' stayin' busy, and my boss' name is Hector (that's true!)
Don't be talkin' shit, cuz I got a shit deflector
When I'm rollin' on the Turnpike, man, I'm payin' that Collector

With my ninja skills, bitch, I'm the mad protector
Even if you put a fence up, I'mma roll up on yo' sector
I'll build a Lego staircase, I gets down like a connector
Mutha fucka, I'm invisible, I'll creep in like a spector

When I gets drunk and crunk, yo I'm a vomit projector
Ya'll bitches exit stage right - I'm the fuckin' BUNG director.

My so LOLled Life...

LOLs are amazing. They most ofen stand alone to announce to the world that we are 1) probably lying about the fact that we laughing out loud while we are typing, and 2) that we are lazy as shit because we can't even type out "laughing out loud" anymore to express our utmost joy.

BUT... LOLs are also included in some really great words, just as they are included in real life.

It hit us. I bet someone out there has laughed out loud while actually IN THE ACT of doing a LOL-included word!

Here at The Bung Blog, we vow to search the world over (aka do a Google search) to bring these LOL words to life for you, by presenting you with visual evidence that LOLs do in fact happen.

Today's LOLification: sLOLom.

Photo Album Friday!

Welcome to Photo Album Friday! This week we will be featuring photos from my 30th birthday party. The theme: debauchery! Enjoy!

There you have it, folks. Lots of bolligerance, debauchery, shots, jager bombs, 7th's, crazy poses, drinking, craziness, insanity, followed by more drinking, craziness, and insanity. Words just don't describe....but the pics sure do.
Until we bung again!


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Bang Off on Some Old Chicks

Watch best friends of 23 years, Ashley & Melissa, as they bung shit up on a daily. You'll laugh, you'll cry (from laughing)....but mostly, you'll just laugh. It's the feel-good blog of the year. Rated "fuckin awesome" by all of their followers (which would be just the two of them so far...), this blog is guaranteed to take bang off to a whole new level!

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Tuesday, February 17, 2009

True Story Tuesday: Ninja Edition

Since it's been an entire week since we blogged, we thought we'd throw a couple more TRUE STORIES your way to feed your bunger. Since we're ninja and all, we'll each share a ninja story.

My story takes place the night of the infamous "knee cancer." I was at a Widespread Panic concert in June of 2006. The booze was flowing, to say the least. Our group of 4 consumed 2 bottles of rum & too many beers to count while tailgating preshow. Once inside the gates, we ran into some friends from my home town and decided to kick it with them throughout the show.

Trying to keep up with the boys, I found myself drinking at their pace, but getting much more drunk. I was nearly kicked out for using my "forbidden" camera that I snuk in. As a compromise, the security guard let me stay in exchange for confiscating my camera. The booze kept flowing and we all kept dancing. At one point, I stood on my seat so I could see better. I kept dancing tho. Not a bright idea. Next thing I know, I'm falling into the next row of people and busted my knee open (hence the "knee cancer"). By the time I stood up, there was blood all down my leg from knee to ankle. My friends begged me to go to the infirmary, but I did not want to miss the concert. Eventually, they went without me and brought back alcohol swabs and bandages. They cleaned me up and bandaged my knee, against my will. Something about having battle scars from concerts makes me feel ninja. So as soon as they were finished bandaging my wound, I notoriously ripped the bandage from my knee and exclaimed "I'm a NINJA!"

And that, my friends, is a true story.

As a brief follow-up, we had our annual lake party just days later. My knee ended up getting infected from swimming in dirty lake water. It took months to heal and left a brutal scar, which is why we refer to any injury that lasts more than a month as cancer. I realize it is not funny to joke about cancer, and karma will one day prove that to me.

1 comment:

  1. hey ashley, sorry for my lame photo, its my bitchy friends fault


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Sunday, January 10, 2010

Rep. Steve King: Televise Healthcare Talks

Rep. Steve King has issued a statement supporting C-SPAN’s request to broadcast congressional negotiations on healthcare reform, comparing the current closed-door talks to “Chicago-style gangster government.”

President Obama pledged during a presidential debate in January 2008 that he would be “bringing all parties together, and broadcasting those negotiations on C-SPAN so that the American people can see what the choices are.”

In a letter to House and Senate leaders released on Tuesday, C-SPAN Chief Executive Brian Lamb asked for negotiations on a compromise bill to be televised, as Democrats work to reconcile differences between legislation passed by the two chambers.

“We respectfully request that you allow the public full access, through television, to legislation that will affect the lives of every single America,” the letter read in part.

Rep. King, an Iowa Republican and member of the Subcommittee on Regulations, Healthcare and Trade, said in his statement issued on Wednesday: “In January 2008, candidate Obama pledged not to negotiate healthcare legislation ‘behind closed doors.’ Instead he committed to ‘broadcasting those negotiations on C-SPAN.’ There are serious differences between candidate Obama’s statements in 2008 and President Obama’s actions in 2010.

“Today, the healthcare legislation is being negotiated behind closed doors, and C-SPAN’s request to broadcast these negotiations is being rebuffed. Tuesday night President Obama and liberals in Congress decided to bypass conference committee debate to craft government-run healthcare legislation in secret in an effort to expedite its passage into law.

“These closed-door, back room dealings may be the norm in a Chicago-style gangster government, but they are not acceptable in our constitutional republic. Americans have a right to know what is going on so they can make their voices heard.

“When asked about President Obama’s pledge to allow C-SPAN access to healthcare debates, Speaker Pelosi dismissively said, ‘there are a number of things he was for on the campaign trail.’ Apparently the speaker of the House doesn’t mind the idea of the president breaking his promises to the American people. But the American people do mind, and they expect President Obama to follow through on the promise he made to them on the campaign trail.”


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Wednesday, July 9, 2014

♥Cover Reveal: "Working Girl" by A. E. Woodward♥

Title: Working Girl
Author: A.E. Woodward
Genre: New Adult/Coming of age
Release Date: Coming Soon

Working Girl
Life As I Know It:
Easy Women
Such was my life in fabulous Las Vegas. But what do you expect when you’re the daughter of a prostitute. This is not the life I want for myself, and I have a plan.

Life As I Want It:
Go to college.
Get my degree.
Get as far from Vegas as possible.

But life has other plans. Plans that include him. Life isn’t always sunshine and roses and even the best laid plans change.

This is my story. The story of a girl who thought she had it all figured out until life threw her a curve ball. My name is Presley and I refuse to be just another Working Girl.

Watch the Book Trailer

About the Author
AE Woodward
A.E. lives in Vacationland with her husband and two children.  Between her real job and writing she finds little time to enjoy life’s finer things.  However in the free time she does manage to steal, she enjoys spending time with friends and family and reading.  A.E. is the author of Kismet and A Series of Imperfections: Imperfectly Perfect, Imperfectly Real, and Imperfectly Bad.  Working Girl is her fifth book.

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Articles on Flood Insurance

Displaying all articles

Relatively few homes hit by Harvey have flood insurance. Reuters/Carlo Allegri

How flood insurance works: 6 questions answered

The federal government created a program in 1968 to insure homes in the US from flooding, yet few of the houses hammered by Harvey's record rainfall were covered.
Two people walk down a flooded section of Interstate 610 in Houston in floodwaters from Tropical Storm Harvey on Sunday, Aug. 27, 2017. AP Photo/David J. Phillip

Americans who live far from coasts should also be worried about flooding

As Hurricane Harvey shows, flooding can happen wherever large storms stall and dumps lots of rain. A new study finds that development is increasing in flood zones inland, where people may not think they are at risk.
Hurricane Wilma in 2005 was the last major storm to rock Florida – and its insurance market. Carlos Barria/Reuters

When catastrophe strikes, who foots the bill?

Even though Hurricane Matthew has been downgraded to category 3, it's expected to cause substantial damage to Florida and other states in the region. The question is, who pays.

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