(8.25.06)
So I've decided to assemble a street team to get the word out about me. I've noticed that rock bands, skateboard companies and even major corporations have had a great deal of success with this somewhat novel marketing concept. And since I'm too lazy to go out and promote myself, this seemed like the only way to go.
STREET TEAM MEMBER BENEFITS INCLUDE:
FREE ADMISSION TO ALL BRIAN SHUEY EVENTS: These happen throughout the year. The next big one is, "Fall House Cleaning 2006" This will take place at my apartment and Street Team Members will get the exclusive right to participate. Just a few of the fun activities...
-"What's that under the dresser?"
-"Mop Race Rally!"
-"Scavenger Hunt:" (or) "Lets find out where Brian stored his goddamn fucking winter hat/scarf/gloves so he doesnt have to buy all new ones like he does every year."
FREE BRIAN SHUEY MERCHANDISE: This is pretty much limited to things I have but don't want anymore. Ill-fitting clothes, old Econ textbooks that I've been inexplicably carting around with me since college, a VHS copy of "Blade Runner" taped off of TBS in 1988 with (most of) the commercials cut out, and rubber bands. Lots of rubber bands.
FREE SUBSCRIPTION TO THE BRIAN SHUEY NEWSLETTER! A glossy, twice-monthly publication to keep everyone updated on my many exciting activities. (Note: Production of the Brian Shuey Newsletter-- including all costs incurred-- shall be the responsibility of Street Team Members.)
For all these GREAT BENEFITS, you will simply be asked to:
-Tell your friends about BRIAN SHUEY and his many fine qualities.
-Call radio stations and encourage the hosts to talk about BRIAN SHUEY-- regardless of the topic at hand and ignoring the fact that no one knows who I am. This is how "buzz" is generated.
-Attend public events and distribute BRIAN SHUEY-related promotional materials. Buttons, stickers, t-shirts, etc. (Note: production of BRIAN SHUEY-related promotional materials-- including all costs incurred-- shall be the responsibility of Street Team Members.)
It's that easy!
So join the fun and help spread the word!
All the best,
Brian Shuey
(Note: Street Team Members will be issued pagers and will be required to be "on-call" 24 hours a day, seven days a week.)
Thursday, August 31, 2006
THE BEST JOKE ABOUT A HORSE I'VE WRITTEN TODAY
A horse walks into a bar...
Bartender: "Hey buddy, why the long face?"
Horse: "Well, I'm a member of the genus Equus. Equus caballus, to be exact. We're part of a larger group of odd-toed ungulate mammals. The face is an adaptation developed over millions of years. Zoologists theorize that it is intended to facilitate grazing on short plains grasses."
Bartender: "Really? You don't say? Well, what'll it be?"
Horse: "I'd love a carrot... If you've got any?"
Bartender: "Sure thing, pal. Coming right up!"
Bartender: "Hey buddy, why the long face?"
Horse: "Well, I'm a member of the genus Equus. Equus caballus, to be exact. We're part of a larger group of odd-toed ungulate mammals. The face is an adaptation developed over millions of years. Zoologists theorize that it is intended to facilitate grazing on short plains grasses."
Bartender: "Really? You don't say? Well, what'll it be?"
Horse: "I'd love a carrot... If you've got any?"
Bartender: "Sure thing, pal. Coming right up!"
MY INTERVIEW WITH GEORGE W. BUSH (PT. 1)
(8.16.06)
Note: What follows is an interview I conducted with President Bush in the west wing of the White House in mid-August of 2006. BDS
BDS: Good afternoon, Mr. President. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.
GWB: Call me George. No wait, call me "Thumper." That's what they called me in school. You wanna know why?
BDS: I suppose I could guess.
GWB: Wait, this is "on the record," right? That's the one where you can print whatever I say?
BDS: It is.
GWB: Better go with "George," then. Or, "President George."
BDS: How about just, "Mr. President."
GWB: That'll do 'er!
BDS: Now then, Mr. President. You're half-way through your second term, how would you say things are going?
GWB: I'll tell you Brian, things are going GREAT! We got a new motto here at the White House, "Moving Forward." Things are really moving forward right now. Forward momentum. Like a rocket to the moon.
BDS: Or Mars.
GWB: What?
BDS: You may recall, you announced an initiative to realize the dream of manned exploration of the planet Mars.
GWB: I did?
BDS: Yes, some time ago.
GWB: And how's that going?
BDS: Well, we're not there yet, sir.
GWB: Hmm, guess I better kick a few butts over at NASA. Get 'em "Moving Forward," eh? (chuckles)
BDS: Yes, I'm beginning to see the wisdom of your new approach.
GWB: You know where I got it from, don't ya? From, "Shark Week." You know, on The Discovery Channel. That's Channel 58 on satellite here in D.C. But it's something different down in Crawford. I wish they could do something about that. Every time I go down there I have to flip around forever to figure out which one is The Discovery Channel. And then, when I find it as soon as I change the channel I forget and I can't get back to it without doing the whole dang thing over again. ESPN's the same in both places. It's 32. I don't know why, though.
BDS: So, um... back to Shark Week?
GWB: Oh yeah. So I learned on Shark Week that sharks have to keep moving forward in the water or they'll die.
(In the background:) Aide #1: Except for Nurse sharks, of course.
GWB: What?
Aide #2: Never mind. Its just an "I.F.," sir.
BDS: "I.F.?"
Aide #2: "Inconvenient Fact." They impede forward momentum. They are contra to the President's paradigm. The paradigm requires that the President ignore them. They are dealt with by people like me.
(Aide #1 is led from the room. Door closes. Some muffled noises on the other side.)
GWB: Yeah, so anyway it's something about the air in the water. And I just thought that was really neat and then I thought it would be a heckuva motto for my administration. Now I got pictures of sharks all over the White House. All sorts of different ones. Hammerheads are the scariest, don't you think? Or maybe Great Whites? They have those down in Australia. You know Australia's a member of "THE COALITION OF THE WILLING," right? Hell, they sent eight or nine guys to Iraq. I know it don't sound like much, but if they're all like Mad Max, well then I bet they could really do some damage!
BDS: Perhaps we should have asked the Australians for some of their sharks?
GWB: Now why didn't I think of that? Teddy! (to Aide #3) Get what's-his-nuts on the phone!
Aide #3: Prime Minister Howard?
GWB: Yeah, him. Tell him I want to talk to him about getting some sharks.
Aide #3: Can do, sir!
BDS: So, these shark posters. Did you have a motivational products company make them?
GWB: Hell no! I DID IT MYSELF! It was decided that it was an important initiative. In fact, they thought it was so important that Dick even gave me the code to run the color copier. Want to know what it is?
BDS: Actually, sir I think that...
GWB: Oh, come on. It won't hurt none, as long as you don't PRINT it. It's... (silently mouths a four-number series.)
BDS: Well yes, I can see why...
GWB: Now I can have you killed. You know... (whispers) to protect the secret.
BDS: Ummm...
GWB: Oh hell! Im just messin' with you little buddy! In fact, why don't you go ahead and remember that. I may need to call you about it if I forget. Dick doesn't like to tell me things twice. And I've learned not to ask twice.
BDS: It will be our secret, sir. Now then, if we could move on to the matter of the coming mid-term elections, I'd like to know what you think the biggest challenge to
(Aide #3 interrupts): Sir, I've got Prime Minister Howard on line 3.
GWB: Aw, hell! I better take this now or I'll never remember what it was I wanted to talk to him about. Can you come back next week? We can finish up then.
BDS: Of course, Mr. President. Perhaps we can discuss something other than sharks?
GWB: Whatever. Sharks. BBQ. The war. Shit! Its all good!
Note: What follows is an interview I conducted with President Bush in the west wing of the White House in mid-August of 2006. BDS
BDS: Good afternoon, Mr. President. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.
GWB: Call me George. No wait, call me "Thumper." That's what they called me in school. You wanna know why?
BDS: I suppose I could guess.
GWB: Wait, this is "on the record," right? That's the one where you can print whatever I say?
BDS: It is.
GWB: Better go with "George," then. Or, "President George."
BDS: How about just, "Mr. President."
GWB: That'll do 'er!
BDS: Now then, Mr. President. You're half-way through your second term, how would you say things are going?
GWB: I'll tell you Brian, things are going GREAT! We got a new motto here at the White House, "Moving Forward." Things are really moving forward right now. Forward momentum. Like a rocket to the moon.
BDS: Or Mars.
GWB: What?
BDS: You may recall, you announced an initiative to realize the dream of manned exploration of the planet Mars.
GWB: I did?
BDS: Yes, some time ago.
GWB: And how's that going?
BDS: Well, we're not there yet, sir.
GWB: Hmm, guess I better kick a few butts over at NASA. Get 'em "Moving Forward," eh? (chuckles)
BDS: Yes, I'm beginning to see the wisdom of your new approach.
GWB: You know where I got it from, don't ya? From, "Shark Week." You know, on The Discovery Channel. That's Channel 58 on satellite here in D.C. But it's something different down in Crawford. I wish they could do something about that. Every time I go down there I have to flip around forever to figure out which one is The Discovery Channel. And then, when I find it as soon as I change the channel I forget and I can't get back to it without doing the whole dang thing over again. ESPN's the same in both places. It's 32. I don't know why, though.
BDS: So, um... back to Shark Week?
GWB: Oh yeah. So I learned on Shark Week that sharks have to keep moving forward in the water or they'll die.
(In the background:) Aide #1: Except for Nurse sharks, of course.
GWB: What?
Aide #2: Never mind. Its just an "I.F.," sir.
BDS: "I.F.?"
Aide #2: "Inconvenient Fact." They impede forward momentum. They are contra to the President's paradigm. The paradigm requires that the President ignore them. They are dealt with by people like me.
(Aide #1 is led from the room. Door closes. Some muffled noises on the other side.)
GWB: Yeah, so anyway it's something about the air in the water. And I just thought that was really neat and then I thought it would be a heckuva motto for my administration. Now I got pictures of sharks all over the White House. All sorts of different ones. Hammerheads are the scariest, don't you think? Or maybe Great Whites? They have those down in Australia. You know Australia's a member of "THE COALITION OF THE WILLING," right? Hell, they sent eight or nine guys to Iraq. I know it don't sound like much, but if they're all like Mad Max, well then I bet they could really do some damage!
BDS: Perhaps we should have asked the Australians for some of their sharks?
GWB: Now why didn't I think of that? Teddy! (to Aide #3) Get what's-his-nuts on the phone!
Aide #3: Prime Minister Howard?
GWB: Yeah, him. Tell him I want to talk to him about getting some sharks.
Aide #3: Can do, sir!
BDS: So, these shark posters. Did you have a motivational products company make them?
GWB: Hell no! I DID IT MYSELF! It was decided that it was an important initiative. In fact, they thought it was so important that Dick even gave me the code to run the color copier. Want to know what it is?
BDS: Actually, sir I think that...
GWB: Oh, come on. It won't hurt none, as long as you don't PRINT it. It's... (silently mouths a four-number series.)
BDS: Well yes, I can see why...
GWB: Now I can have you killed. You know... (whispers) to protect the secret.
BDS: Ummm...
GWB: Oh hell! Im just messin' with you little buddy! In fact, why don't you go ahead and remember that. I may need to call you about it if I forget. Dick doesn't like to tell me things twice. And I've learned not to ask twice.
BDS: It will be our secret, sir. Now then, if we could move on to the matter of the coming mid-term elections, I'd like to know what you think the biggest challenge to
(Aide #3 interrupts): Sir, I've got Prime Minister Howard on line 3.
GWB: Aw, hell! I better take this now or I'll never remember what it was I wanted to talk to him about. Can you come back next week? We can finish up then.
BDS: Of course, Mr. President. Perhaps we can discuss something other than sharks?
GWB: Whatever. Sharks. BBQ. The war. Shit! Its all good!
MR. SHUEY'S SEVEN TIPS FOR SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE
(7.18.06)
As most of you know, I am an atheist. However, I'm also practical, and can see the wisdom in preparing for any eventuality, however farcical or remote.
According to the Bible--Thats the book you have to move aside in your hotel room night table when you're looking for matches or the handy list of local delivery joints-- the End Times are just around the corner. In fact, they have been for a couple of millennia now. With the current dust-up in the Middle East, contemporary prophets of doom contend that they are really, REALLY just around the corner.
If you are devout Christian, apparently you're all set (A note to devout Christians: I'd keep paying those credit card bills all the same.)
But what about the rest of us? I now present...
MR. SHUEY'S SEVEN TIPS FOR SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE
1) The right shoes are a must: Make sure they fit properly (no "pinching") but are not too loose either. It's going to be either really hot or really cold (they are unclear on this) so have a supply of wool AND cotton socks on hand.
2) Stock-up on lots of water: Get the least expensive distilled water available. God will not be impressed by Evian or Voss, and having the expensive kinds around may lose you essential "piety" points.
3) Have a Bible on you: Couldn't hurt. Just make sure you didn't steal it from the hotel room. Those are for sharing.
4) Clean-up your apartment: Throw-out the porn. Don't just hide it. Jesus is coming, not your Mom. However, unlike your Mom, you do not need to dust on Jesus' account. (I don't think, anyway.) Do not throw out the booze, though. If you don't make the cut you're going to need it. In fact...
5) Secure plenty of booze: I put my odds of getting "Left Behind" at a very high order of probability. And I don't plan on being sober for The Rapture anymore than I plan on being sober this weekend.
6) Get a really good umbrella: Ask the guy at the store if it will protect you from raining sulfur. When he gives you a stupid look just buy the most expensive one they have. Go out in style, thats my motto.
7) Fuck it! Go apeshit!: You know what? I'm still writing this (and you're still reading it) so chances are we're BOTH going to hell. And as much as I hate people mucking-up my floors and spilling beer on my records, THE RAPTURE PARTY'S AT MY PLACE! A no-hold-barred naked, drunken freak-fest that would make Caligula blush. I promise it will be the best (and last) party you ever attend. See you there.
As most of you know, I am an atheist. However, I'm also practical, and can see the wisdom in preparing for any eventuality, however farcical or remote.
According to the Bible--Thats the book you have to move aside in your hotel room night table when you're looking for matches or the handy list of local delivery joints-- the End Times are just around the corner. In fact, they have been for a couple of millennia now. With the current dust-up in the Middle East, contemporary prophets of doom contend that they are really, REALLY just around the corner.
If you are devout Christian, apparently you're all set (A note to devout Christians: I'd keep paying those credit card bills all the same.)
But what about the rest of us? I now present...
MR. SHUEY'S SEVEN TIPS FOR SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE
1) The right shoes are a must: Make sure they fit properly (no "pinching") but are not too loose either. It's going to be either really hot or really cold (they are unclear on this) so have a supply of wool AND cotton socks on hand.
2) Stock-up on lots of water: Get the least expensive distilled water available. God will not be impressed by Evian or Voss, and having the expensive kinds around may lose you essential "piety" points.
3) Have a Bible on you: Couldn't hurt. Just make sure you didn't steal it from the hotel room. Those are for sharing.
4) Clean-up your apartment: Throw-out the porn. Don't just hide it. Jesus is coming, not your Mom. However, unlike your Mom, you do not need to dust on Jesus' account. (I don't think, anyway.) Do not throw out the booze, though. If you don't make the cut you're going to need it. In fact...
5) Secure plenty of booze: I put my odds of getting "Left Behind" at a very high order of probability. And I don't plan on being sober for The Rapture anymore than I plan on being sober this weekend.
6) Get a really good umbrella: Ask the guy at the store if it will protect you from raining sulfur. When he gives you a stupid look just buy the most expensive one they have. Go out in style, thats my motto.
7) Fuck it! Go apeshit!: You know what? I'm still writing this (and you're still reading it) so chances are we're BOTH going to hell. And as much as I hate people mucking-up my floors and spilling beer on my records, THE RAPTURE PARTY'S AT MY PLACE! A no-hold-barred naked, drunken freak-fest that would make Caligula blush. I promise it will be the best (and last) party you ever attend. See you there.
MR. SHUEY'S NOVEL "HEADLINE" MENTAL HEALTH TEST
(7.9.06)
So here's a little game I've invented. There are 20 headlines below. Some are real, some I've made-up. Think you know which are which? I'll bet you don't! (Note: this is not a "trick" in which they're ALL made-up. Honest. I wouldn't pull something like that. That's something a dick does.)Feel free to send me your guesses. The "winner" will get a prize to be determined later.
1) Aspirin kills/saves lives
2) 5 G.I.s Charged in Iraq rape-slay
3) Which Hot Styles Best Fit Her Face?
4) Fresh Israeli strikes target Gaza
5) New "Poison" to cure cancer?
6) Cruise to court Catholics?
7) Getting the Most Out Of Doggie playtime
8) Zarqawi comic book stash
9) Mexico Vote Flap to postpone Bullfights
10) Security Plan Staggers on
11) "Orphan Train" in Bangladesh catches fire; 22 Dead
12) Babies at 70? New Trend?
13) Next World Cup in Africa?
14) Study: Women Sweat More Than Men
15) Boy loses Fingers to Alligator; Will Keep as Pet
16) French P.M.: Head-butts "tres mauvais"
17) Toothpaste "ban" in Russian Province
18) Love All As Wimbledon Denies David Hasselhoff Row
19) Mexico Genocide Charges dropped
20) Rocket Size of Football Pitch New N. Korean threat?
Good luck!
Mr. Shuey
So here's a little game I've invented. There are 20 headlines below. Some are real, some I've made-up. Think you know which are which? I'll bet you don't! (Note: this is not a "trick" in which they're ALL made-up. Honest. I wouldn't pull something like that. That's something a dick does.)Feel free to send me your guesses. The "winner" will get a prize to be determined later.
1) Aspirin kills/saves lives
2) 5 G.I.s Charged in Iraq rape-slay
3) Which Hot Styles Best Fit Her Face?
4) Fresh Israeli strikes target Gaza
5) New "Poison" to cure cancer?
6) Cruise to court Catholics?
7) Getting the Most Out Of Doggie playtime
8) Zarqawi comic book stash
9) Mexico Vote Flap to postpone Bullfights
10) Security Plan Staggers on
11) "Orphan Train" in Bangladesh catches fire; 22 Dead
12) Babies at 70? New Trend?
13) Next World Cup in Africa?
14) Study: Women Sweat More Than Men
15) Boy loses Fingers to Alligator; Will Keep as Pet
16) French P.M.: Head-butts "tres mauvais"
17) Toothpaste "ban" in Russian Province
18) Love All As Wimbledon Denies David Hasselhoff Row
19) Mexico Genocide Charges dropped
20) Rocket Size of Football Pitch New N. Korean threat?
Good luck!
Mr. Shuey
WARNING! FRAYED FUCKING EDGES! (7.7.06)
So I sincerely hope this is taken in the spirit intended, but one never knows.
For reasons manifold and complex I am currently near the end of my fucking rope. I have come to believe that letting people know this is preferable to exploding without warning. So I guess what I'm asking for is a little leeway. I usually try to do the honorable thing and --when these moods take hold-- sequester myself until things blow over.
Unfortunately, that is not always an option.
Make no mistake. Being out and about (especially with friends and acquaintances) can be one of life's true pleasures. Unfortunately, when the "mood" takes hold it can be exactly the opposite. Small things, ordinarily brushed-off can become blasting caps. For instance:
DON'T BUMP INTO ME OR SHOVE PAST ME WITHOUT SAYING "EXCUSE ME:" I haven't punched anyone in years, but I'm getting damn close.
TALK WITH ME, NOT AT ME: If you'd like to have a conversation, that's swell. If you'd like to talk without pause in my general direction and expect me to sit there and nod politely, go fuck yourself. Go fuck yourself a lot.
UNSOLICITED ADVICE IS ALWAYS UNWELCOME: If you're doing so goddamned great, why are you sitting in a bar talking to a loser like me? Shouldn't you be on your yacht?
(AND ON A SIMILAR NOTE) THE RIGHT TEA AIN'T GONNA FIX THIS: It seems odd that someone like me would know so many well-meaning moon-bats who seem intent on forcing teas, balms, roots and "essences" down my throat (or "up" other places) with the promise of immediate blissful happiness. And they all seem to believe that it's the pharmaceutical companies who are the hustlers, not the folks at THE WEDGE. (HINT: They're BOTH hustlers.)
Long experience has taught me one simple truth: VALIUM WORKS! (Everything else is bullshit.)
So perhaps this was less a warning rather than a subtle way of trying to secure some Valium? Who knows? Like I said, I'm a little frayed!
Either way, I thought it best to let you folks know where things stand.
For reasons manifold and complex I am currently near the end of my fucking rope. I have come to believe that letting people know this is preferable to exploding without warning. So I guess what I'm asking for is a little leeway. I usually try to do the honorable thing and --when these moods take hold-- sequester myself until things blow over.
Unfortunately, that is not always an option.
Make no mistake. Being out and about (especially with friends and acquaintances) can be one of life's true pleasures. Unfortunately, when the "mood" takes hold it can be exactly the opposite. Small things, ordinarily brushed-off can become blasting caps. For instance:
DON'T BUMP INTO ME OR SHOVE PAST ME WITHOUT SAYING "EXCUSE ME:" I haven't punched anyone in years, but I'm getting damn close.
TALK WITH ME, NOT AT ME: If you'd like to have a conversation, that's swell. If you'd like to talk without pause in my general direction and expect me to sit there and nod politely, go fuck yourself. Go fuck yourself a lot.
UNSOLICITED ADVICE IS ALWAYS UNWELCOME: If you're doing so goddamned great, why are you sitting in a bar talking to a loser like me? Shouldn't you be on your yacht?
(AND ON A SIMILAR NOTE) THE RIGHT TEA AIN'T GONNA FIX THIS: It seems odd that someone like me would know so many well-meaning moon-bats who seem intent on forcing teas, balms, roots and "essences" down my throat (or "up" other places) with the promise of immediate blissful happiness. And they all seem to believe that it's the pharmaceutical companies who are the hustlers, not the folks at THE WEDGE. (HINT: They're BOTH hustlers.)
Long experience has taught me one simple truth: VALIUM WORKS! (Everything else is bullshit.)
So perhaps this was less a warning rather than a subtle way of trying to secure some Valium? Who knows? Like I said, I'm a little frayed!
Either way, I thought it best to let you folks know where things stand.
Friday, June 30, 2006
ENEMIES LIST (PT. 1)
(6.28.06)
I have been compiling my comprehensive "Enemies List" for well over a decade now. It has filled many a notebook. Nixon-- perhaps as a result of his legendary paranoia-- sought to keep his secret. I choose to share mine freely. Here are a few recent additions:
PIGEONS: This needs no explanation. Loud, nefarious, disease-ridded shit machines. "Satans Songbirds." They are a plague upon me.
VICE ADMIRAL RICHARD H. CARMONA M.D, M.P.H., F.A.C.S.-- SURGEON GENERAL, U.S.A.: The Admiral's recently released report on second-hand smoke (long on bullshit, short on science) goes so far as to suggest that being 50 feet down wind of a cigarette could cause instant death. This is bound to saddle me with a great deal of aggravation in the near future.
NORWEGIAN-AMERICAN WOMEN OVER THE AGE OF 65: For my money, the most disagreeable sub-set of humanity I have ever encountered. They are devoid of all human warmth. They are physically incapable of smiling. Playwright Syl Jones calls them, "The Ice People." I call them "Stone Faces" or "Stonies."
THE FUCKING DOUCHEBAG I SAT NEXT TO AT THE TWINS GAME THE OTHER NIGHT: We had scored great seats for this one. One draw-back to this; in my experience, the "better" (read: more "expensive") the seats, the worse the company (CLASS WAR NOW!) The guy to my right showed-up an inning and a half in, was rude to his fiancé, spilled beer on my shoes, seemed to have very little interest in the game, would get up during crucial pitches for refreshments, and most irritating of all, he kept bumping me on the shoulder every time he removed his black RAZR phone from his pocket. He was doing this so he could stay in constant contact with a friend who was also somewhere in the crowd.
"Dude, I'm in, like, 129, come on down!" "No seriously, come on down dude!"
I would have loved to crack this fucker in the mouth, but getting into a fight at a Twins game gets you ejected, and all I could think about was that color-man Bert Blyleven would comment as I was led away, " There go a couple of clowns getting thrown out for fighting."
The thought of being referred to as a "clown" by Bert Blyleven was enough to keep me in line.
JOE FRANCIS, PRODUCER "GIRLS GONE WILD" VIDEO SERIES: I have yet to actually see one of these videos, but the other evening I saw a commercial for one and it is with a great deal of shame that I admit it kind of turned me on. This says less about the video and more about my slide towards middle age. I blame Joe Francis for reminding me of this. Prick.
ANN COULTER: Bitch, I want my underpants and NAKED RAYGUN records back! I know where you live! (242 Seabreeze Ave, Palm Beach, FL 33480-6129)
MY ULCER: Here's a head-scratcher: Does the act of cultivating a long and varied list of enemies cause an ulcer? Or is it the ulcer that causes one to have-- or perceive to have-- so many enemies?
MY FRIENDS ENEMIES: "My friends enemies are MY enemies." Hey, it's the least I can do for you guys
I have been compiling my comprehensive "Enemies List" for well over a decade now. It has filled many a notebook. Nixon-- perhaps as a result of his legendary paranoia-- sought to keep his secret. I choose to share mine freely. Here are a few recent additions:
PIGEONS: This needs no explanation. Loud, nefarious, disease-ridded shit machines. "Satans Songbirds." They are a plague upon me.
VICE ADMIRAL RICHARD H. CARMONA M.D, M.P.H., F.A.C.S.-- SURGEON GENERAL, U.S.A.: The Admiral's recently released report on second-hand smoke (long on bullshit, short on science) goes so far as to suggest that being 50 feet down wind of a cigarette could cause instant death. This is bound to saddle me with a great deal of aggravation in the near future.
NORWEGIAN-AMERICAN WOMEN OVER THE AGE OF 65: For my money, the most disagreeable sub-set of humanity I have ever encountered. They are devoid of all human warmth. They are physically incapable of smiling. Playwright Syl Jones calls them, "The Ice People." I call them "Stone Faces" or "Stonies."
THE FUCKING DOUCHEBAG I SAT NEXT TO AT THE TWINS GAME THE OTHER NIGHT: We had scored great seats for this one. One draw-back to this; in my experience, the "better" (read: more "expensive") the seats, the worse the company (CLASS WAR NOW!) The guy to my right showed-up an inning and a half in, was rude to his fiancé, spilled beer on my shoes, seemed to have very little interest in the game, would get up during crucial pitches for refreshments, and most irritating of all, he kept bumping me on the shoulder every time he removed his black RAZR phone from his pocket. He was doing this so he could stay in constant contact with a friend who was also somewhere in the crowd.
"Dude, I'm in, like, 129, come on down!" "No seriously, come on down dude!"
I would have loved to crack this fucker in the mouth, but getting into a fight at a Twins game gets you ejected, and all I could think about was that color-man Bert Blyleven would comment as I was led away, " There go a couple of clowns getting thrown out for fighting."
The thought of being referred to as a "clown" by Bert Blyleven was enough to keep me in line.
JOE FRANCIS, PRODUCER "GIRLS GONE WILD" VIDEO SERIES: I have yet to actually see one of these videos, but the other evening I saw a commercial for one and it is with a great deal of shame that I admit it kind of turned me on. This says less about the video and more about my slide towards middle age. I blame Joe Francis for reminding me of this. Prick.
ANN COULTER: Bitch, I want my underpants and NAKED RAYGUN records back! I know where you live! (242 Seabreeze Ave, Palm Beach, FL 33480-6129)
MY ULCER: Here's a head-scratcher: Does the act of cultivating a long and varied list of enemies cause an ulcer? Or is it the ulcer that causes one to have-- or perceive to have-- so many enemies?
MY FRIENDS ENEMIES: "My friends enemies are MY enemies." Hey, it's the least I can do for you guys
ALUMINUM BASEBALL BATS=INSTRUMENTS OF THE DEVIL!
(6.20.06)
There are two interesting articles at foxsports.com that discuss how folks are rethinking the wisdom of using aluminum baseball bats (especially for youth leagues.)
http://msn.foxsports.com/other/story/5697038
http://msn.foxsports.com/other/story/5697040
Most of the debate seems to center around safety issues (i.e. the ball leaves the bat too quickly/Timmy doesn't see the ball coming/ball cracks Timmy in the skull/Timmy goes into a coma/Timmy don't wake-up-- or else wakes-up "all wrong".)
They also talk about what using aluminum bats does to the skill level of young players and how many are unable to make the adjustment when circumstances eventually require them to use REAL bats. ("Real," meaning wood.)
My only complaint is that none of the sources quoted could bring themselves to state that which we all know to be true; that aluminum baseball bats are fucking lame and should be gathered up-- by force of law, if necessary-- and melted down into something useful.
Beer cans come to mind.
Brian David Shuey
Current Status: 30-Day Disabled List
There are two interesting articles at foxsports.com that discuss how folks are rethinking the wisdom of using aluminum baseball bats (especially for youth leagues.)
http://msn.foxsports.com/other/story/5697038
http://msn.foxsports.com/other/story/5697040
Most of the debate seems to center around safety issues (i.e. the ball leaves the bat too quickly/Timmy doesn't see the ball coming/ball cracks Timmy in the skull/Timmy goes into a coma/Timmy don't wake-up-- or else wakes-up "all wrong".)
They also talk about what using aluminum bats does to the skill level of young players and how many are unable to make the adjustment when circumstances eventually require them to use REAL bats. ("Real," meaning wood.)
My only complaint is that none of the sources quoted could bring themselves to state that which we all know to be true; that aluminum baseball bats are fucking lame and should be gathered up-- by force of law, if necessary-- and melted down into something useful.
Beer cans come to mind.
Brian David Shuey
Current Status: 30-Day Disabled List
BROKEN FINGER
(6.15.06)
(This is mostly for the Sunday Baseball crowd)
So for the few of you who showed-up for Wednesday's infield/batting practice-- That ground ball I took off the tip of my middle finger? X-Rays reveal that the finger in question is broken. This would explain why it's swollen to three times it's normal size and black (not "black and blue" mind you-- black.)
The only consolation I take from this is that I feel much less nebbish for all the carping I did about how much it fucking stung.
I see an orthopedic doctor next week, but my guess is I won't be at 1st base for at least 3-4 weeks. So fellow infielders, be nice to who ever takes over... and for Christ's sake try to get your throws out of the dirt. (No names.)
To non-ballplayers, my Sundays are now free for:
-coffee
-shopping for pants
-matinee movies
-naked "McLaughlin Group" viewing
-walks around Lake Calhoun
-Chinese checkers
-regular "American" checkers
-competitive cigarette smoking
Man, this is going to suck...
P.S. As it is the middle finger on my RIGHT hand, no scheduled DIE ELECTRIC! shows will need be cancelled. Sorry, you're not getting off that easy. However, I must admit that practice tonight revealed that playing with a splint on is something of a motherfucker, and the subsequent throbbing is no picnic.
(This is mostly for the Sunday Baseball crowd)
So for the few of you who showed-up for Wednesday's infield/batting practice-- That ground ball I took off the tip of my middle finger? X-Rays reveal that the finger in question is broken. This would explain why it's swollen to three times it's normal size and black (not "black and blue" mind you-- black.)
The only consolation I take from this is that I feel much less nebbish for all the carping I did about how much it fucking stung.
I see an orthopedic doctor next week, but my guess is I won't be at 1st base for at least 3-4 weeks. So fellow infielders, be nice to who ever takes over... and for Christ's sake try to get your throws out of the dirt. (No names.)
To non-ballplayers, my Sundays are now free for:
-coffee
-shopping for pants
-matinee movies
-naked "McLaughlin Group" viewing
-walks around Lake Calhoun
-Chinese checkers
-regular "American" checkers
-competitive cigarette smoking
Man, this is going to suck...
P.S. As it is the middle finger on my RIGHT hand, no scheduled DIE ELECTRIC! shows will need be cancelled. Sorry, you're not getting off that easy. However, I must admit that practice tonight revealed that playing with a splint on is something of a motherfucker, and the subsequent throbbing is no picnic.
I LEARNED SOMETHING ODD ABOUT MYSELF TODAY
(6.11.06)
Watching a cellist slowly and carefully apply rosin to her bow before a performance is something I very much enjoy being witness to.
Is that weird?
(No, there are no websites for this sort of thing... not that I was able to find anyway.)
Watching a cellist slowly and carefully apply rosin to her bow before a performance is something I very much enjoy being witness to.
Is that weird?
(No, there are no websites for this sort of thing... not that I was able to find anyway.)
ON WEARING SHORTS
ON THE WEARING OF "SHORTS" (6.5.06)
So heres the deal:Throughout my adult life I have had some fairly strict rules regarding the wearing of "shorts."
They break-down roughly as such:
1992-1996: Only when a) skateboarding b) in summertime outdoor BBQ situations c) particularly hot band practices. NEVER after sundown.
1997-2000: Never, ever, under any circumstances.2001-2003: Only during daylight hours when the temperature exceeded 95 degrees. Or when riding a bicycle. Maybe at a hot band practice.
2004-2005: Any time --day or night-- when the temperature exceeded 95 degrees.
2006-: I've had it! Seriously, it's early June and we've had how many 90+ days? I officially declare the right to wear shorts any time I goddamn please. I have no air conditioning in my apartment. I don't drive (so no cruising around in air conditioned bliss there.) I'm not about to spend the summer going to shitty movies just to escape the heat. Should I need to, for instance, walk all over town doing errands when it's terrifically hot, I'm sorry, but you may be exposed to my legs-- from the knee to the ankle. There is nothing unseemly about this part of my body. Just deal with it.
I mention all of this because there have been a few occasions in the last week where I was in public wearing shorts (the HORROR!) and not a soul I know could refrain from making a smart-ass little comment. I don't need this shit from you people. Here's a secret: I'm not nearly as good-natured as is reputed, and mark this; The next motherfucker who thinks he's being "cute" and opens up on me about it is going to find THEMSELVES critiqued in a manner so withering and hurtful that they will wish they had kept their mouth shut. Dig?
I promise you this and this alone: You will never see me play a show in shorts. That remains my only proviso. Otherwise, all bets are off.
So heres the deal:Throughout my adult life I have had some fairly strict rules regarding the wearing of "shorts."
They break-down roughly as such:
1992-1996: Only when a) skateboarding b) in summertime outdoor BBQ situations c) particularly hot band practices. NEVER after sundown.
1997-2000: Never, ever, under any circumstances.2001-2003: Only during daylight hours when the temperature exceeded 95 degrees. Or when riding a bicycle. Maybe at a hot band practice.
2004-2005: Any time --day or night-- when the temperature exceeded 95 degrees.
2006-: I've had it! Seriously, it's early June and we've had how many 90+ days? I officially declare the right to wear shorts any time I goddamn please. I have no air conditioning in my apartment. I don't drive (so no cruising around in air conditioned bliss there.) I'm not about to spend the summer going to shitty movies just to escape the heat. Should I need to, for instance, walk all over town doing errands when it's terrifically hot, I'm sorry, but you may be exposed to my legs-- from the knee to the ankle. There is nothing unseemly about this part of my body. Just deal with it.
I mention all of this because there have been a few occasions in the last week where I was in public wearing shorts (the HORROR!) and not a soul I know could refrain from making a smart-ass little comment. I don't need this shit from you people. Here's a secret: I'm not nearly as good-natured as is reputed, and mark this; The next motherfucker who thinks he's being "cute" and opens up on me about it is going to find THEMSELVES critiqued in a manner so withering and hurtful that they will wish they had kept their mouth shut. Dig?
I promise you this and this alone: You will never see me play a show in shorts. That remains my only proviso. Otherwise, all bets are off.
SATURDAY WAS A-OKAY! (6.4.06)
So here's what I did:
Woke up.
Made coffee.
Smoked cigarettes.
Drank coffee.
Made breakfast.
Ate breakfast.
Listened to records.(While I listened to records I watched the NCAA softball finals-- no, there was no baseball on at the time-- and just when I thought I hated softball more than anything, realized there was something I hated even more... THE UNIVERSITY OF ALABAMA SOFTBALL TEAM. The reasons why are too manifold and complex to go into now, but UCLA beat them so those fucking ladies can go home and cry into their sun visors!)
Talked on the phone with my Mom and Dad in Pennsylvania.
Drank more coffee.
Went to Blazer's "Going Away" pig roast.
Threw the baseball around.
Drank beer.
Played badmitton.
Sustained a batmitton-related injury. (YES, it's possible. If you give it your all!)
Ate some unbelievably delicious pig.
Darnk beer. (No, that's not a typo.)
Played a game of poker.
Won $15.
Went to the Triple Rock.Saw The Holy Ghostriders.Saw Birthday Suits.Saw The Riverboat Gamblers.
Took a "mystery" pill.
Got sort of sleepy/happy.
Came home.
Started typing.
Tomorrow I get to play baseball.
I guess my point is, things aren't so bad.
So here's what I did:
Woke up.
Made coffee.
Smoked cigarettes.
Drank coffee.
Made breakfast.
Ate breakfast.
Listened to records.(While I listened to records I watched the NCAA softball finals-- no, there was no baseball on at the time-- and just when I thought I hated softball more than anything, realized there was something I hated even more... THE UNIVERSITY OF ALABAMA SOFTBALL TEAM. The reasons why are too manifold and complex to go into now, but UCLA beat them so those fucking ladies can go home and cry into their sun visors!)
Talked on the phone with my Mom and Dad in Pennsylvania.
Drank more coffee.
Went to Blazer's "Going Away" pig roast.
Threw the baseball around.
Drank beer.
Played badmitton.
Sustained a batmitton-related injury. (YES, it's possible. If you give it your all!)
Ate some unbelievably delicious pig.
Darnk beer. (No, that's not a typo.)
Played a game of poker.
Won $15.
Went to the Triple Rock.Saw The Holy Ghostriders.Saw Birthday Suits.Saw The Riverboat Gamblers.
Took a "mystery" pill.
Got sort of sleepy/happy.
Came home.
Started typing.
Tomorrow I get to play baseball.
I guess my point is, things aren't so bad.
Friday, June 02, 2006
JUST IN TIME FOR WEDDING SEASON: "MR. SHUEY'S SHORT GUIDE TO WEDDING ETTIQUITE"
(NOTE: I was tempted to title this, "Weddiquite," but then I remembered that the Marquis de la Fontaine was hanged by Louis XIV in 1682 for making the very same lousy joke. LOOK IT UP!) BDS
ARRIVAL:
Always arrive late, preferably during a key point in the ceremony. Make a lot of noise. Make a fuss. This will reassure the Bride and Groom that the event is a "hot ticket." Lets face it; if it wasn't you would have waited outside until it was over.
HECKLING:
Is generally frowned upon. However, if I have to watch someone cart out the bride's emotionally unbalanced third cousin to read Corinthian's 13:4-8 again I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
"Love is not boastful, arrogant, rude, irritable or resentful?" Really? You could have fooled me. (You see, this is the kind of wisdom you get from a book that talks about invisible people in the sky.)
That said, the Bible's a big book and not without useful advice. For instance, take this little gem from Leviticus: "Never have sexual intercourse with a woman and her daughter or a woman and her granddaughter. They are related. Doing this is perverted."
This passage will help remind the congregants of the importance of family and may serve to keep things from getting too "freaky" at the reception. Then again...
THE RECEIVING LINE:
Unless you really want a better idea of how the bride looks in her dress, skip it. The real line is forming at the bar.
THE RECEPTION:
This is really the Main Event. In fact, I have always thought that the actual wedding should simply be video taped and shown on a loop at the reception. That way, anyone who really wanted to see it can.
YOUR ROLE:
Get drunk. Get drunk fast. In fact, get drunk faster than anybody else. (You wouldn't believe the pressure this takes off the other guests.) Especially the married men. Every one of them has a wife who is fully expecting that it will be HER husband who will be the most drunken, boorish lout in the place. Imagine her surprise and delight when that role is taken on BY YOU! Think of all the arguments you will be preventing! You may, in fact, end up saving some of these peoples marriages. So with each shot you take, quietly tell yourself, "What I do tonight, I do for Love."
MAKE A TOAST:
This is traditionally the purview of the Best Man. However, legendary stories of embarrassing, drunken wedding toasts have caused grooms to become notoriously safe in choosing their best men. The result is predictable, bland, overly sentimental toasts. This is where you come in. Inject a little edginess into the affair. Drop a bomb, so to speak. For instance, if you happen to know the groom to be gay-- HOW you know is your business-- a toast is a good time to "out" him. This may seem heavy-handed, but I assure you you'll be saving the blissful couple a lot of pain and confusion in the coming years.
While the groom is fair game, whatever your inclinations, NEVER SAY ANYTHING UNTOWARD ABOUT THE BRIDE. I don't hold much to be above scorn, but a bride on her wedding day is. No matter what you may think of her, no matter what you may know, THE BRIDE GETS A FREE PASS.
PERSONS AT THE RECEPTION TO AVOID (OR EMBRACE):
EMBRACE: Any divorced, forty-something aunt chain smoking Marlboro Light 100s from one of those soft leather snap cases and periodically exclaiming, "Whoo Hoo!" I've noticed a tendency for people to steer clear of these woman. That's a mistake. They are my personal favorites. Be a gentleman and see that such ladies are never without a drink. They deserve a good time.
AVOID: Any down-on-his-heels uncle who cant get two words into a conversation without pitching a "sure-fire" business scheme.
AVOID: The Bride's parents. This is a safety measure. They paid for the event, and as a result are the only one's who's opinion of your behavior really matters.
AVOID: All children. Scrubbed-up and on their best behavior they might end up give you some perverse notions... like having one's of your own.
EMBRACE: Grandmas.
GETTING HOME:
What ever you do, do not drive home in your condition. Getting yourself killed on someone else's wedding night is considered "upstaging" and is quite rude. If you must, sleep in your car. Cops are surprisingly patient with people sleeping in their cars-- so long as they are well dressed. (Oddly, this is something the Kennedy's never really learned.)
Good luck, and enjoy the wedding season.
ARRIVAL:
Always arrive late, preferably during a key point in the ceremony. Make a lot of noise. Make a fuss. This will reassure the Bride and Groom that the event is a "hot ticket." Lets face it; if it wasn't you would have waited outside until it was over.
HECKLING:
Is generally frowned upon. However, if I have to watch someone cart out the bride's emotionally unbalanced third cousin to read Corinthian's 13:4-8 again I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
"Love is not boastful, arrogant, rude, irritable or resentful?" Really? You could have fooled me. (You see, this is the kind of wisdom you get from a book that talks about invisible people in the sky.)
That said, the Bible's a big book and not without useful advice. For instance, take this little gem from Leviticus: "Never have sexual intercourse with a woman and her daughter or a woman and her granddaughter. They are related. Doing this is perverted."
This passage will help remind the congregants of the importance of family and may serve to keep things from getting too "freaky" at the reception. Then again...
THE RECEIVING LINE:
Unless you really want a better idea of how the bride looks in her dress, skip it. The real line is forming at the bar.
THE RECEPTION:
This is really the Main Event. In fact, I have always thought that the actual wedding should simply be video taped and shown on a loop at the reception. That way, anyone who really wanted to see it can.
YOUR ROLE:
Get drunk. Get drunk fast. In fact, get drunk faster than anybody else. (You wouldn't believe the pressure this takes off the other guests.) Especially the married men. Every one of them has a wife who is fully expecting that it will be HER husband who will be the most drunken, boorish lout in the place. Imagine her surprise and delight when that role is taken on BY YOU! Think of all the arguments you will be preventing! You may, in fact, end up saving some of these peoples marriages. So with each shot you take, quietly tell yourself, "What I do tonight, I do for Love."
MAKE A TOAST:
This is traditionally the purview of the Best Man. However, legendary stories of embarrassing, drunken wedding toasts have caused grooms to become notoriously safe in choosing their best men. The result is predictable, bland, overly sentimental toasts. This is where you come in. Inject a little edginess into the affair. Drop a bomb, so to speak. For instance, if you happen to know the groom to be gay-- HOW you know is your business-- a toast is a good time to "out" him. This may seem heavy-handed, but I assure you you'll be saving the blissful couple a lot of pain and confusion in the coming years.
While the groom is fair game, whatever your inclinations, NEVER SAY ANYTHING UNTOWARD ABOUT THE BRIDE. I don't hold much to be above scorn, but a bride on her wedding day is. No matter what you may think of her, no matter what you may know, THE BRIDE GETS A FREE PASS.
PERSONS AT THE RECEPTION TO AVOID (OR EMBRACE):
EMBRACE: Any divorced, forty-something aunt chain smoking Marlboro Light 100s from one of those soft leather snap cases and periodically exclaiming, "Whoo Hoo!" I've noticed a tendency for people to steer clear of these woman. That's a mistake. They are my personal favorites. Be a gentleman and see that such ladies are never without a drink. They deserve a good time.
AVOID: Any down-on-his-heels uncle who cant get two words into a conversation without pitching a "sure-fire" business scheme.
AVOID: The Bride's parents. This is a safety measure. They paid for the event, and as a result are the only one's who's opinion of your behavior really matters.
AVOID: All children. Scrubbed-up and on their best behavior they might end up give you some perverse notions... like having one's of your own.
EMBRACE: Grandmas.
GETTING HOME:
What ever you do, do not drive home in your condition. Getting yourself killed on someone else's wedding night is considered "upstaging" and is quite rude. If you must, sleep in your car. Cops are surprisingly patient with people sleeping in their cars-- so long as they are well dressed. (Oddly, this is something the Kennedy's never really learned.)
Good luck, and enjoy the wedding season.
YOUR DEFINITIONS FOR THE DAY
"INCONGRUITY" defined: Finding a discarded wad of wintergreen Skoal in the bathroom urinal at a fine arts museum.
"MISPLACED CURIOSITY" defined: The manner by which one discovers it was indeed wintergreen.
"MISPLACED CURIOSITY" defined: The manner by which one discovers it was indeed wintergreen.
THE ANT WHISPERER
Today I sat on a bench in the courtyard smoking a cigarette and upon examining the pavement under my feet saw a curious sight. An ant barely the size of a pin-head dragging what looked to be a small fragment of potato chip at least TEN TIMES its size and weight.
I followed its progress with no small amount of fascination as it moved the behemoth one inch, then two, then nearly three before seemingly giving up and moving some distance away from it.
"DON'T QUIT NOW, YOU PUSS!" I exclaimed-- much to the bemusement of some passersby!
Sure enough, the ant revisited the morsel, circling it a few times as if to size it up, and then returned to the slavish task of transporting it.
It felt good to know I had shamed the ant into fulfilling its obligation to the collective back at the ant hill.
I felt a little bit like Stalin.
And it was strangely satisfying.
I followed its progress with no small amount of fascination as it moved the behemoth one inch, then two, then nearly three before seemingly giving up and moving some distance away from it.
"DON'T QUIT NOW, YOU PUSS!" I exclaimed-- much to the bemusement of some passersby!
Sure enough, the ant revisited the morsel, circling it a few times as if to size it up, and then returned to the slavish task of transporting it.
It felt good to know I had shamed the ant into fulfilling its obligation to the collective back at the ant hill.
I felt a little bit like Stalin.
And it was strangely satisfying.
NO MORE NICKEL MOUSTACHE RIDES!
So as some of you know, I shaved off my moustache yesterday. It was time for it to go.
However, my friend Arman pointed out that one consequence of losing the moustache is that I will no longer be able to provide "Moustache Rides"
Eschewing inflation-- and in keeping with the exchange rate established by humorous 1970's t-shirts--I was still providing them for a mere 5 cents. Virtually unheard of in this day and age!
Even at such a paltry sum, it occurs to me that I have quite thoughtlessly eliminated a significant portion of my yearly income.
To supplement that loss, I propose the following:
"I WILL SCREW YOU FOR ONE THIN DIME!"
(The t-shirts are on order. I'll let you know how it goes.)
However, my friend Arman pointed out that one consequence of losing the moustache is that I will no longer be able to provide "Moustache Rides"
Eschewing inflation-- and in keeping with the exchange rate established by humorous 1970's t-shirts--I was still providing them for a mere 5 cents. Virtually unheard of in this day and age!
Even at such a paltry sum, it occurs to me that I have quite thoughtlessly eliminated a significant portion of my yearly income.
To supplement that loss, I propose the following:
"I WILL SCREW YOU FOR ONE THIN DIME!"
(The t-shirts are on order. I'll let you know how it goes.)
MR. SHUEY'S HAPPY-TIME BEEF STEW
Another delicious bachelor delicacy!
INGREDIENTS:
(1) can Dinty Moore Brand Beef Stew
(2) tablespoons BBQ sauce
(1/2) teaspoon pepper
garlic powder and basil to taste
COOKING INSTRUCTIONS:
1) Open can of Dinty Moore beef stew. Be careful not to cut yourself. Blood is not one of the ingredients in this recipe.
2) Remove about 1/2 total number of carrots. They always put too many fucking carrots in. The "health conscious" among you may also take this opportunity to remove some of the lard that has congealed at the top of the can. (I don't recommend this, but I know how it is with you kids today.) Pour remaining contents in to a saucepan. DO NOT MICROWAVE, you lazy prick. It won't come out as well and always explodes-- leading to a very messy microwave that smells like cheap beef stew.
3) Simmer on low heat for five minutes, adding additional ingredients as it begins to bubble.
Serve with warm buttered bread and a large glass of Hershey's Chocolate Milk. MMMM!
ALTERNATE: remove all carrots, cook to reduction and serve over egg noodles. Double MMMM!
Enjoy!
INGREDIENTS:
(1) can Dinty Moore Brand Beef Stew
(2) tablespoons BBQ sauce
(1/2) teaspoon pepper
garlic powder and basil to taste
COOKING INSTRUCTIONS:
1) Open can of Dinty Moore beef stew. Be careful not to cut yourself. Blood is not one of the ingredients in this recipe.
2) Remove about 1/2 total number of carrots. They always put too many fucking carrots in. The "health conscious" among you may also take this opportunity to remove some of the lard that has congealed at the top of the can. (I don't recommend this, but I know how it is with you kids today.) Pour remaining contents in to a saucepan. DO NOT MICROWAVE, you lazy prick. It won't come out as well and always explodes-- leading to a very messy microwave that smells like cheap beef stew.
3) Simmer on low heat for five minutes, adding additional ingredients as it begins to bubble.
Serve with warm buttered bread and a large glass of Hershey's Chocolate Milk. MMMM!
ALTERNATE: remove all carrots, cook to reduction and serve over egg noodles. Double MMMM!
Enjoy!
"LITTLE PINK SHIT MACHINE"
A Very Short Work of Fiction by Brian David Shuey
"And how old is it?"
"Seven weeks."
"It's seven weeks OLD, or you've had it for seven weeks?"
"I've had it for seven weeks."
"So how old is it?"
"I don't know, what's it matter?"
"Well, I'm just wondering how big it will get."
"Pretty big...I guess."
"And you're just going to keep it in that box?"
"That's the box it came with."
"What does it DO?"
"It pretty much just makes that noise and fouls itself."
"And why did you buy this thing again?"
"I don't know, it looked cute in the store."
"What do you feed it?"
"The guy gave me this white stuff."
"That's all it eats?"
"He said that's all it eats until it gets a bit older.""But I guess most of them don't make it that long."
"What do you call it?"
"I'm thinking of calling it, 'The Little Pink Shit Machine.'"
"Cute, but really, what are you going to NAME it?"
"I don't want to give it a proper name just yet in case it dies."
"That makes sense."
"What did they call it at the store.""HUMAN."
"That's weird."
"Yeah, they're kind of new."
"And how old is it?"
"Seven weeks."
"It's seven weeks OLD, or you've had it for seven weeks?"
"I've had it for seven weeks."
"So how old is it?"
"I don't know, what's it matter?"
"Well, I'm just wondering how big it will get."
"Pretty big...I guess."
"And you're just going to keep it in that box?"
"That's the box it came with."
"What does it DO?"
"It pretty much just makes that noise and fouls itself."
"And why did you buy this thing again?"
"I don't know, it looked cute in the store."
"What do you feed it?"
"The guy gave me this white stuff."
"That's all it eats?"
"He said that's all it eats until it gets a bit older.""But I guess most of them don't make it that long."
"What do you call it?"
"I'm thinking of calling it, 'The Little Pink Shit Machine.'"
"Cute, but really, what are you going to NAME it?"
"I don't want to give it a proper name just yet in case it dies."
"That makes sense."
"What did they call it at the store.""HUMAN."
"That's weird."
"Yeah, they're kind of new."
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
$10 BONSAI CONTEST: QUARTERLY REPORT
For the many thousands of you who entered the "$10 Bonsai Pool" back in January, we now find ourselves at the three month mark and an update on my progress seems only proper.
There were a handful of un-believers who's wagers had me killing-off the tree within the first few months--or weeks, in some cases. I won't mention any names, but your lack of faith in me did not go unmarked!
Rest assured, YOU WILL NEVER SEE THAT $10 BILL!
And as if to rub it in, the Treasury Department has just issued new tens-- and they're very smart looking!
It is with great pleasure (and no small amount of pride) that I report the bonsai tree is ALIVE and THRIVING!
For those of you who would have any doubts, you may go to my profile page and look at pictures section. There you will find an image of the tree looking quite robust and holding a copy of this past Sunday's STAR TRIBUNE.
(By the way, my bonsai wanted me to mention that he found the Strib's coverage of the University of Minnesota Stadium debate pandering and short-sighted. It seems he would much rather see the money spent on an arboretum. I tried to explain to him that, "politics is the allocation of scarce resources." He told me to, "shut the fuck up" and get him another beer.)
Semper Fi Bonsai!
There were a handful of un-believers who's wagers had me killing-off the tree within the first few months--or weeks, in some cases. I won't mention any names, but your lack of faith in me did not go unmarked!
Rest assured, YOU WILL NEVER SEE THAT $10 BILL!
And as if to rub it in, the Treasury Department has just issued new tens-- and they're very smart looking!
It is with great pleasure (and no small amount of pride) that I report the bonsai tree is ALIVE and THRIVING!
For those of you who would have any doubts, you may go to my profile page and look at pictures section. There you will find an image of the tree looking quite robust and holding a copy of this past Sunday's STAR TRIBUNE.
(By the way, my bonsai wanted me to mention that he found the Strib's coverage of the University of Minnesota Stadium debate pandering and short-sighted. It seems he would much rather see the money spent on an arboretum. I tried to explain to him that, "politics is the allocation of scarce resources." He told me to, "shut the fuck up" and get him another beer.)
Semper Fi Bonsai!
A SHORTY AND SOME SHOWS... (FROM APRIL 21, 2006)
A very short work of fiction, "SATURDAY NIGHT." by Brian David Shuey
"What was THAT all about?"
"What?"
"The look that women gave you?"
"She gave me a look?"
"Yeah, that red-head that just walked by." "Do you know her?"
"Ummmm..."
"Well she certainly seems to know YOU."
"I still don't know who you're talking about."
"That RED-HEADED SLUT that just breezed by us!" "She gave ME a look, too."
"What kind of look?"
"I don't know, a red-headed slut kind of look. Like she knew something."
"Knew something about WHAT?"
"That's what I'd like YOU to tell ME!"
"Listen, it's crowded as fuck in here, I can't even figure out who it is you're talking about."
"You're not a very good liar, you know that?"
"Oh Jesus, not this again?"
"Not WHAT again?"
"Listen, I'm going to the bar to get a drink."
"Say hello to your little red-headed friend!"
"You know what, FUCK YOU!"
DIE ELECTRIC! SHOWS NEXT WEEK:
THURSDAY, APRIL 27: UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN, STOUT (w/ THE CARDINAL SIN)
FRIDAY, APRIL 28: THE TURF CLUB, ST. PAUL (for THUNDER IN THE VALLEY'S CD RELEASE)
SATURDAY, APRIL 29: THE VARSITY THEATER, MPLS, MN (FOR THE "EYES AND HANDS" FESTIVAL)
"What was THAT all about?"
"What?"
"The look that women gave you?"
"She gave me a look?"
"Yeah, that red-head that just walked by." "Do you know her?"
"Ummmm..."
"Well she certainly seems to know YOU."
"I still don't know who you're talking about."
"That RED-HEADED SLUT that just breezed by us!" "She gave ME a look, too."
"What kind of look?"
"I don't know, a red-headed slut kind of look. Like she knew something."
"Knew something about WHAT?"
"That's what I'd like YOU to tell ME!"
"Listen, it's crowded as fuck in here, I can't even figure out who it is you're talking about."
"You're not a very good liar, you know that?"
"Oh Jesus, not this again?"
"Not WHAT again?"
"Listen, I'm going to the bar to get a drink."
"Say hello to your little red-headed friend!"
"You know what, FUCK YOU!"
DIE ELECTRIC! SHOWS NEXT WEEK:
THURSDAY, APRIL 27: UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN, STOUT (w/ THE CARDINAL SIN)
FRIDAY, APRIL 28: THE TURF CLUB, ST. PAUL (for THUNDER IN THE VALLEY'S CD RELEASE)
SATURDAY, APRIL 29: THE VARSITY THEATER, MPLS, MN (FOR THE "EYES AND HANDS" FESTIVAL)
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