Wednesday, April 28, 2004

RIP Al Stefanson

Hi All!

Just got the word that one of my best friends and political activists has died. Went in for knee surgery a few months ago, and the dominos started to fall, ending with heart failure.

Al was a tireless volunteer and exceptional fund raiser for Republican candidates for more years than I can guess.

When I ran against Mary Jo McGuire in old district 54A (Roseville, Lauderdale and Falcon Heights, he not only raised money, but hosted campaign events and coordinated lit drops and basically taught me all I didn't know about politics.

I assume he was well into his seventies, but he was so active and vital that he didn't seem "old."

A great guy, a great loss.

Al, I hope I can live as good and full a life as you.



Tuesday, April 27, 2004

The Political Assasination Attempt on Cheri Yecke

Hi All!

Having little better to do, even as the weird warming temps were luring me outside to smell the awesome smells of Spring, , I subjected myself to the Senate hearing on the totally forgone solution to the disgustingly partisan Yecke confirmation.

I will comment further, but for now, Circus of Fools will suffice. I'm really p.o.ed about this staged bullshit flinging show, but need to back off for now.

Suffice it to say, that throwing Stanek to the wolves didn't change a thing. The DFLosers are mean and nasty creatures and until we toss them out of OUR Senate, things won't change. I hope Pawlenty's crew will use this posturing Roman Tribunal to kick some political behind.

Bad People - 6
Good People - 4




My kids spill lots of beverages on this keyboard so forgive the often misspellings. Sometimes it's my fault, but not as intentional as Pompous Ass Sandy pronouncing Commish Yecke's last name as "Yucky."

Saturday, April 24, 2004

Today's Northen Alliance Radio Critque...and other stuff

Hi All!

Great show, guys, and I mean it sincerely. But the guests today were snoozers.

That Yale prof never got a chance to flesh his opinions out.

Nobody challenged Traitor Tice on his obvious financial consideration in selling his soul to the devil Strib.

The MST3K guy got too much air time. Too inside to draw the vast audience that 1280 needs to build.

I think I will promise not to criticize the program too much -- everyone on the show is 10 X Smarter than Me, so I'll back off for now.

Other Things. No Females. Get Kathy Kersten on, if you haven't already when I wasn't listening, and how about Sarah Janecek and Anette Meeks? How about Peter Bell or gadfly Lucky Rosenbloom? Just don't axe me. I am a smooth bottomed white boy conservative, and your show in particular and TalK Radio in general has enuf of 'em already.

On to one other thing. Does anyone else but me get annoyed by all those Honda ricers with the three inch fart tubes weaving in and out of traffic with expired tabs and threatening lives?



Friday, April 23, 2004

Nick Coleman Bashing

Hi All!

It's popular blogsport around here to beat up on the hack Strib columnist, and I prefer to ignore him.

But even 'tho it's like shooting a fish in an ice cream bucket I can't resist one interesting observation about today's sob story about the poor "scrapper" who walks 4 miles uphill both ways dragging behind a (stolen?) grocery cart overflowing with scrap metal.

Nicky sez that he chanced upon poor old Larry the Scrapper when he had to leave his desk and dash out of work to plug a parking meter (The Strib doesn't provide parking for its Star writers? Lileks I could understand, but not The Franchise!)

They apperently only spoke briefly. See, Larry had to haul ass to deliver his load and probably didn't appreciate being bothered. However, he just so happened to dwell long enough for Nicky to round up a photographer to compose a sympathetic picture.

Ah, the stories that fall into Nicky Jr.'s lap just by chance. And I thought I was one of the world's greatest bullshitters!



Thursday, April 22, 2004

Lay's Potato Chips

Hi All!

I promised that I would waste no further bandwith or storage or random and mindless thoughts, but...

I will settle down.


But for now, since the brain is still fevered, I will share just a bit more. As my posts seem to reflect Pacific Time, it is not really eleventhirty here in Flyoverland.

Was perfectly ready for bed, but nature, as they say, called. What happened reminded me of a very foolish thing I did last night.

The kids were hungry. We usually starve them, but I felt generous and went to a local Pepsi-owned tex-mex franchise to purchase a bag of goodies to shut them up and get them to bed.

While I watched my order appear on the drive-up screen, I thought, hmmm, why not add a 99 cent bean burritto?

This is a mistake I have made many times. Moth to the flame, if you will.

Short story long, I offer a word to the wise... check your constitution before consuming "food" that tastes good going in, but sucks going out... and wastes a roll of Northern, even if you wet it down in the bathroom sink before setting the tissues to work.

I wonder why bidets never caught on in America. Seems like a million dollar opportunity to me.



PS. I'm beginning to feel like blogposts are like potato chips--or bean burittos!

PPS. As long as I'm not (ha ha?) I may as well tell y'al that I just administered my periodic application of tolfinate to my navel, which has become as deep as a mine shaft. The fungus should clear up soon.

That should scare off the potential dates!

In Mourning for Doves

Hi All!

One last thought and on to a comfy bed with a 3 warm bodies, two naked.

Awright, two little pups and my flannel-clad wife of 24 years.

Regarding the vital issue of the day, the decades-old debate about hunting mourning doves, I offer the following.

When I answered phones for Sviggum I found that this is a highly emotional issue, and I just don't get it. They be just dumb fucking birds and we got 'em aplenty. Apparently, a brace of them makes for a fine meal. But I think Krok is on to something with his recent theory of the sound thing. If creatures make pleasing sounds, we ought not ping 'em.

Related irrelevant point. Doves (as in the symbol of peace) are not related to Mourning Doves,
I don't believe. More like pigeons.

They do sound mournful, "owe WE owe, owe, owe."

Must warm the cockles of Pohlad's beef jerky of a heart.

I wish crows were tasty. The bleeding hearts would have no problem with killing them because they caw annoyingly and rob other bird's nests.

Bottom line is I don't get it why it is so contentious. I guess we are just too fat dumb and happy. Seems like this law is like rescinding obsolete laws like spitting on the sidewalk. It is widely done and not enforced.

I know for a fact that mourning Doves are taken in rural areas, and I doubt that anyone has ever been charged with a crime, so what's the big deal. Good target practice, if you axe me.

Note to Prince. Doves are incapable of crying. Good tune anaway. See you on June 17 for which I spent a decent private school's quarterly tuition on.

PS. New album sucks....but I kinda like "Peppermint Girl." Heard you are sticking to the old hits on tour. Hope so, as that is what is being paid for.


Bar Talk

Hi All!

I had a nice happy hour today at my local watering hole.

A nurse assistant described a penisectomy that she helped out with today. Turns out the guy spent too much time in the sun without a bathing suit and caught skin cancer and have to had his dick chopped off.

An ex-con, stereotypical owner of several motorcycles produced in Wisconsin described the many ways one could incapacitate or worse, an attacker without the need to pack a rod.

Squeezing the jugular veins was something I'd heard before.

But this one is cool, if you could pull it off. Chop the bad person in the neck, draw the right arm behind the head with your left hand and punch hard under the exposed armpit. Apparently this does more damage to the liver in an instant than I have managed to do to mine over three decades of emulating F. Scott.

Word to the wise. The best Happy Hour Buffet in town is at Ol' Mex. 3-6.

Quite a feast for the price of a drink. The clam linguini was particularly popular today. One tires of the old mexican food and the family owned bar is happy to oblige. They had great walleye fillets on Fridays during Lent. They even put out a pizza once in awhile. Oh, and the tall taps are a buck off.

Oh, and the trivia players are incredibly interesting conversationalists. Today there was a bus driver who is getting surgery for a shoulder burr tomorrow and will be out of action for 6 weeks. Quite happy with the settlement. On the other side of the bar was Dr. Who, a sort of savant, who finally was able to rejoin our little trivia clatch now that the strike is over. I offered him a ride home one night last winter and he honestly didn't know how to get home to S Mpls without following the MTC routes. We drove around for about an hour before he recognized a landmark. He works for an electronic recycling place. And you cannot beat him at trivia....


Too Rich

Just thought I'd try Air Head America on the webstream. Comes in mighty good! After an astoundingly lame bit involving a senile "Deep Throat" exposing the rumor that Bob Woodward has a new book out (he heard if from Larry King....ha ha ha) comes a supposedly paid spot for...guess what? ADVIL!!!!

As Katie would say, "how apt! giggle, cackle kackle"

Now they are doing an Earth Day edition of the Oy Yoy Yoy show. Ethnic hilarity!

Hot Air America

I wanna be "different" so it really doesn't suit me to pile on, but I must share my experience with this aural monstrosity.

Let's be Franken. (Lan)pher what it's worth, this weak attempt to buy some airtime, let alone build an audience is a lead balloon. Whoo, I think I just sprained my my brain....

So I listened one day last week. The day they were yanked from a couple of markets, to which brief lip service was paid in the first minutes.

I try to be succinct, so I won't transcribe all my notes. Suffice it to say that Kathy (she loves to be called that) and Al are not nearly as entertaining as their radio role models, Howard Stern and his giggly female sidekick Robin.

Interesting advertising line-up on the local station, which is barely receivable -- two tin cans and a mile of sting would sound better at my house.

There was a spot for Don Johnson Antiques. 612-824-1111. thought I'd toss him a free plug as this blog probably has a bigger audience than WMIN.

Other than Don, there were 5 spots in the first hour from the Media Wanker Ton "Community," extolling the infinite benefits of their sweet little gambling monopoly. The spots were imbued with such virtue that I was almost tempted to stop listening and speed down to Praire Island.

I promised myself to give this WOBW three hours, but 'round 'bout noon, this exchange between Gigggles Lanpher and a caller pushed me over the edge.

Caller: HeLOOOO!

Giggles Lanpher: HeLOOOO!

PK: Buh BYE!

Political Assasination of Rich Stanek

It's been talk-radioed to death, but I am still trying to read between the lines on Tim Pawlenty's sudden decision to politically off this guy.

There must be more than what has come out.

In my brief stint with the GOP Caucus in January 2003, I worked in the staff area immediately adjacent to Stanek's office, while he was still a legislator. Seemed a hard-working, nice enough guy, and he took appointments with lots of groups that subsequently called for his head.

His well-documented use of the n-word 12 years ago would not be enough for Pawlenty to yank the rug. Difficulty in getting him approved in the Senate would, to Pawlenty I think I know, only strengthen the guv's resolve to stand by his man.

There must be, as was said in less sensitive times, by my sainted granny, a, um, er, dare I say, "nigger in the woodpile" here.

There, I said it. Big deal. One of my ideas for this blog is to challenge readers with concepts and words that might provoke visceral responses. Otherwise what's the use of blathering like 99% of the others?

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

Tit for Tit

Hi All!

I just returned from my all-too-regular night out to play NTN Trivia and imbibe twofer brandy mans at Ol' Mexico.

Too late, I've learned, that being a regular barfly at a local establishment was a way to smooth out one's alcohol consumption.

I really enjoy the company of the "regulars" and have gleaned more fascinating stories that I will ever remember to tell.

My 48-year-old body is like an old fan belt. It could go at any time, and almost has, more than once.

I've sorta gotten used to feeling shitty all the time, and no diet or drug can fix it at this point. What I enjoy these days is seeing my kids mature, gathering info from the internet, and staying alive... and hang'n at Ol' Mex.

When I strip off my second-hand-smoke saturated togs and get ready for bed, I can never help but notice that my tits are almost bigger than my wife's. This is most disturbing, but as I will never be able or willing to afford plastic surgery, I have accepted this fact of life, but wonder what I would have thought at my eldest kids's sixteen years if I would ever let my liver-impaired, testosterone-starved corpus would have come to this.

I have a close, personal friend of the GLBT variety who tells me that there are many out there that would find me very attractive.

I'd rather score with the shapely blonde "Blondie" lookalike who sat across the bar from me tonight at Ol' Mexico. Too bad her boyfriend is an Antonio Banderas double. Sigh....


Late to the Party

Finally am joining the blogosphere. I am PK of Falcon Heights, MN, Northern Alliance Wannabe.