Cajun Cultin'

Bayou Buggering
I've always been fascinated with devil worship movies such as Race With the Devil, The Brotherhood of Satan and The Devil's Rain, so enjoy a little piece of the real thing!

note: I do not condone ritualistic practices nor would I be inclined to particpate in said event or bugger a dog.

The Frisbie Pie Company

From meager beginnings as a pie tin to a monster sized recreational business-indeed, the frisbee last year outsold baseballs, footballs and basketballs....combined- the flying disc has now occupied most of my free time.

I've been throwing the traditional Wham-o Frisbee since I was a tiny fella and could do the basic maneuvers: behind the back catch, behind the back throw, under the leg catch. I even had a Boston Terrier that could get some extreme vertical leap to catch a disc.

Fast forward in life and about the only exercise I got (and I do mean only) while I was getting large with the ex-wife was frisbee chuckin'. I'm a born retriever. I could run, catch and throw a frisbee all day long and be content. The frisbee I most used was a 200 gram Ultimate.

Then one day around 1997 I'm browsing around Dick's Sporting Goods and see this wee-man of a disc. It had the vestige of a cheetah on it and also "long range driver" emblazened on the top. Picking it up I realized this flat circular plate was not for catching. With the 172 gram weight, no flexibility and a small leading edge, you'd be sure to lose a couple of fingers trying to haul this thing in nekkid handed. I inquired about this strange platter with Acinonyx jubatus stamped on its top side.

"It's disc golf, dude. It's like golf....With a disc."

"Oh kind and wise Dick's worker, where does one partake in the sport of disc golf?"

"Dude, there is a course not 3 miles from here.."

With that I purchased a long range driver, the cheetah, a fairway driver, the shark, and a putter/approach disc.

The new toys sat in my closet for the next eight years. Without that albatross of a wife around my neck I dusted off the cheetah, the shark and the putter and asked a friend at work to finally go disc golfing.

I've pretty much been on the course ever since. I've picked up some thorns, poison ivy, a distinct Canadian Goose stench on my shoes, and I've also picked up my game a bit. I started off shooting an 85 and have whittled that down to a 57 on one particular course. I have copious amounts of practicing to do before I can get better, but playing is the proverbial "hoot."

Anyways, that's what I'm doing to get me out of the apartment these days. I'm not out today because I'm getting old and creaky and my body needs a brief respite before I get back out there and hyzer a few throws, do my share of spotting and dropping a 40 foot putt for birdie. OK, the latter is a rare feat, but a goober can dream, can't he?

The Silent Clapper

My Way News

The story concerns why the clock tower at the Houses of Parliament went silent. The short answer is global warming, but I'm not going to delve into the veracity of such a claim. My problem is when a news organization can't do a little research, or possess the common knowledge to know that Big Ben is not the clock, but the thirteenth bell which strikes the hour. I learned this as a curious kid who read every piece of reference material I could find. I'm a fucking encyclopedia of worthless information. But these days it's reprehensible that a dopey reporter can't get facts straight thereby snowballing the ignorance of the country into a huge rolling orb of mighty dumb taking out all in its path. Yep, there is easier access to info than when I was growing up, but people are lazier these days so the equilibrium hasn't changed. Instead of walking around with all this info in your head, it's now at the push of a button so fact hoarders as myself are moot. But I do get the satisfation out of knowing a sliver of mundane knowledge that an educated professional doesn't know and is too much of a sloth to get it right.

Oh, and a clapper is that thing inside the bell...Nevermind...

BMW no.3: Two Thousand Maniacs

A town of Southern good ol' boys and gals hack, cut, rip and dismember a group of travelers with frightful glee in H.G Lewis' gore classic.

The tiny Southern hamlet of Pleasant Valley is smack dab in the middle of a Centennial celebration. However, the festivities cannot be complete without some yankee guests of honor. Y'all see, this here celebration commemorates the hundred year passing of a band of Northern troops who came into the fair city and massacred the citizens, so every hundred years the butchered population comes back to get some long awaited revenge.

Heading up the kill squad are Lester and Rufus. These homicidal hayseeds have devised some insidious means of doing away with those danged Northern aggressors. Especially charming is "The Barrel Roll" and "The Teetering Rock", though the "horse pull" and the "mutilation melee" are sure to please.

This is the second part of David Friedman's and H.G. Lewis' Blood Trilogy. The flagship being 'Blood Feast' with 'Color Me Blood Red' riding caboose. '2K Maniacs' may be the most enjoyable of the three. With its cartoonish characters whom are both sinister and lighthearted at the same time, Maniacs succeeds in wedging a splinter of uneasiness upon the viewer. Ok, a tiny splinter.. Alright, you got me, a dinky shard of a splinter that is barely noticeable. ANYWAY, this underlying current of non-calm can be lost in the not so subtle presentation of the exploitative material. Let's be honest, rednecks are a scary tribe. Give 'em a sharp pointy thing and you're shaking hands with terror, and Lewis makes sure you see as much as possible. Nothing is left to the imagination. This was the intent of the director, for his target audience back in the 60's would "live south of the Mason-Dixon line, would be between twenty-five and forty-five, would live in rural rather than urban circumstances, would proabably be male, would not be highly educated, and would have a terrific number of prejudices." Today, however, Lewis says the fans he runs into are exactly the opposite. *Wiping sweat from brow*


It's weird, blunt, kooky, and fun. They way murder and mayhem oughta be.

Runtime 87 minutes, COLOR, 1964

CREDITS
William Kerwin .... Tom White
Jeffrey Allen .... Mayor Buckman
Ben Moore (I) .... Lester
Gary Bakeman .... Rufe
Connie Mason .... Terry Adams

Directed by:
Herschell Gordon Lewis

FACT SHEET
# Connie Mason was the Playboy Playmate of the Month June 1963.

# Nothing shuts a woman up like a teetering rock.

# Poor Census Taking: 34 Maniacs more representative of the populace.

The question is moot

I don't like it when people preface a question directed at me by saying, "question" and then proceeding to ask me a question.

I am now turning the tables on these catch phrase goombahs by answering as so:

"Question. Did you find out what happened to those missing pages of the McMurtry file?"

"Answer. No."

Now I've branched out in hopes that the perpetrators will grab a clue and cling to it by prefacing all I say with a one or two word describer.

"Statement. I feel better today than I did yesterday."

"Observance. Nancy is getting a bit chunky around the waist."

"Exclamation. The boss has a Napoleon complex!"

"Strange interlude. The blue moustache is pared with the sins of brevity."

I'm not sure when this 'question' business got started, but understand, if you ask me a question, I'll know it's a fuckin' question. I don't need a heads up. I'm savvy that way.

Serial Killer Wants Death, Kooks Try to Keep Him Alive

Connecticut Executes Serial Killer

OK, so Michael Ross, heinous human waste who raped and murdered up to eight women in the Connecticut and New York area, abandoned all appeals last fall that would have kept him alive for many years, on your dime. This miscreant decides to do the right thing and death penalty opponents wanted to save him from lethal injection.

Who are these death penalty opponents? What kind of selfish placard waving hippie would want to keep a guy breathing when he has confessed to the crime and wants to succumb to the the big sleep? Let the guy die, he wants it, and it'll save some scratch. Find another cause, ya hempy smellin' sack of cancerous testicles.

Check out this weepy quote from a touchy feely Connecticut goob, "My heart is pounding. I can't believe Connecticut has become that state that's done it."

Believe it... And while you're at it let your heart pound for those gals that were killed. Michael Ross had it far easier by going the lethal injection route than did his victims.

The Ross family and public attorneys, trying to save his life, stated he suffered from "death row syndrome" meaning he had become deranged from living the past 18 years with a death sentence hanging over his head.

Uhhh...Lemme see here... A guy killed 8 women and raped some of them, but he only became deranged after the government put him on death row? This is the point where I say, "lick my ass, barrister!"

And can you believe this vibrating butt plug with detachable french tickler had a website?

The beast was blogging! And he had a girlfriend! Some fuckers have the easy life.

Anywary, the guy is dead, bereft of life, an ex-parrot. It's a good day....Wait, it's Friday the 13th, maybe it's not such a good day..

I'll see your rat and raise you a monkey

I was reading about this new type of rodentia that was found in a vegetable market. It's called Kha-Nyou by the locals in Laos. The non-locals call it "a fuckin' rat."

Anywaste, Robert Timmins of the Wildlife Conservation Society said, "To find something so distinct in this day and age is just extraordinary. For all we know, this could be the last remaining mammal family left to be discovered."

Put your bunson burner back in your pants Mr. Scientist. In the "related news" section on the same page is this headline:
New Monkey Species Found

We gots us a new monkey, rat-finder! OK, maybe the rat-squirrel is a little more distinct visually as compared to neo-monkey as the tailed simian is little more than the relative of the macaque. In fact, to my untrained monkey eyes, it looks just like a danged macaque. But the hugely brained scientists tell me it's a new species, so I'll roll with that.

The Firefox and the Hounds

Firefox browser security flaw... Can't they just leave me alone? I dropped that clunky behemoth IE in favor of the firefox browser now I've got these hacking goons to contend with all over again. The current option is to shut down javascripting, yet no patch has been thrown out there yet. At least the lumbering sloth MS was quick to toss my way a security update. Well, this won't discourage me from using firefox. There will always be these basement dwelling ghouls nipping at my os calcis.

Gads, I had to go back in and turn on javascripting just to post this! How's about a patch! Or an iron-on transfer of Randolph Mantooth...Anything! They don't even acknowledge there is a problem on their site....

Ewww. That's Tho Methed Up

A jail deputy in Oregon has gathered together side by side photographs depicting the ravages of crystal meth on users. Some of these before and after shots are enough to make you want a stiff drink. Frightening! Below are some shots taken from THIS SITE.

...Then I Must Be a Genius...

Remember kids, Drink rhymes with Think!!

Getting To Know the Frankenfish

Hi. I'm the Northern Snakehead! You probably have heard me referred to as Frankenfish. Well, I am an all-time great in the realm of famous fish just behind Bruce from Jaws and 'the one that got away.' I've starred in countless films: Frankenfish, Bride of Frankenfish, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenfish. Woo boy, that fat guy really had us cackling on the set and between you and me, that was Elsa Lanchester playing the Bride and boy, could she deep throat.

Anyways, it's been a great life and I'd like to thank the holy mackeral for giving me the ability to do what I do for the little people. In return I'd like to bring you into my world. The wonderous world of the Northern Snakehead...The Frankenfish!

• There are 28 species of me and we can tolerate low oxygen levels in water because we are air breathers from an early age! Frankenfish says 'YES' to the smoking ban!

• Some of us snakeheads are summer breeders. Others breed throughout the year! Va-va-va-voom!

• We snakeheads are a monogamous bunch. For an entire breeding season I'll attach myself to one lucky gal and that pairing may last a lifetime! My lawyers, Dewey, Cheatum and Howe suggest prenuptials for us snakefish.

• Don't mess with the babies! Some of us parent snakeheads will guard our young to the death... Of You! Some of my schoolies (C. micropeltes) reportedly attacked, and in some instances killed, humans who approached the mass of young!

• I can stay out of water for up to 4 days and have been known to migrate from pond to pond traversing dry land by using my gills as a mode of transport. Who's a fish outta water now, baby?!?!?!

• I am extremely predatory and I will wipe out entire species!

• I am originally from Southeast Asia and was introduced to North American waters probably by exotic fish buffs who threw me out when I got too big for the aquarium!

So now you know a little more about me, the Frankenfish. I'll be coming soon to a pond or brackish water supply near you!

Soylent Green is People!!

It's people. Soylent Green is made out of people. They're making our food out of people. Next thing they'll be breeding us like cattle for food. You've gotta tell them. You've gotta tell them!--Charlton Heston

You could be eating Edward G. Robinson