Friday, June 30, 2006

This Just In: Kuettel Stirs Pot

Hi All!

Like a bull in a china store (not Ferdinand) I crashed the party last night. With an elite group drawn and held captive by the weekly Trivia Teaser, I became something of a tootsie roll floating in the country club punch bowl.

I had a plan and darned if it didn't work to perfection. I got a bug in some initially deaf ears regarding a quest I am approaching.

This is a tease, as it is trash and Goodwill day and I have a lot of trash and goodwill. Gotta get the brakes looked at too.

Much more to follow today.

All will be revealed.


Wednesday, June 28, 2006

What Paper D'ya Read?

Hi All!

It seemed today that McClatchy's first move during the transition to the buyer, is using the same photo editor at the Strib and the PP.

Check out the front of sports sections. Same placement, same event, have too look twice to tell the difference. Strib used staff photog, Press used AP

Couldn't find the PP picture to download but here is the Strib's.

John Marty Screws Up? Breaking?

Hi All!

Have encountered some frustration trying to get a ruling on this from my contacts at the Capitol and am awaiting word.

In the meantime, if it's a scoop, I want to claim credit! Move over Powerline!


Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Checking In

Hi All!

Did I see the Nihilist in Golf Pants on the News?

Been busy with everyting from financial upheaval to flat tires.

Also planning on holding a secret conclave to plot my course to political domination.

More as develops, less as not.



Sunday, June 25, 2006

Jaegerschotz vol. 1, no. 2

Tooling along on 694 yesterday, I hit a sudden slowdown approaching the "unweave the weave" project. There was no construction going on and all lanes were wide open, yet a jam had formed on a Saturday afternoon. Soon I saw the reason. Wish I had a camera. There was a speed limit sign that showed the limit and the minumum. The top half was covered as the 60mph max is reduced during construction. The bottom half read "Minimum 45." You get the picture? the masses of asses were reading the 45 but apparently didn't understand the complicated concept of "minimum."

Stumbled upon the Prairie Home Companion. Say what you want about Garry's snooty attitude and wrong-headed politics, the guy can sure spin a tale. Absolutely hilarious story centered on horse flies. Amazing how he can produce this stuff of the top of his head, A technique of his that he shares with my late beloved Nana is to start a story, veer way off and come back to the original topic at the end. I try to do it, but not too good at it yet. I thought the Squished Bunny story was a good effort, but I went so far afield that I suppose the readers dropped off before I got around to the subject.

Inspired subplot involving the Pastor Inquvist aiming a shotgun at the cloud of horse flies that were attracted by his ice cream maker, as the Lutheran Ladies Quartet was coming down the street singing a hymn. Mrs. Inquist shreiked "Don't kill them just because they're Protestants!"

The postscript was clever by half. He asked guest Linda Ronstadt if he had mentioned the gas grill, which of course he hadn't. When she replied in the negative he shrugged it off, saying that it must not have been important. Funny stuff.

I have had some severe financial crises in the past week to add to my kids driving me nuts and the health. Nevertheless, $1200 for a six month old Apple G4 listing for over $3000 was an eBay score I couldn't pass by. Also picked up a nice stereo cabinet ($6.95) to expand the shelf space for my growing A/V equipment inventory, three nice sturdy folding plastic patio chairs $3.00) and a car adapter for my Nokia (($.99), so I considered it a thrifty day.

This is my first effort at using the Apple text editor and I am already in love. Hate the built in keyboard but the wireless full-size is the best keyboard I've used since the Wang days. Those Wang keyboards were the best ever. Also use a wireless mouse that I am calling "Uber Rodent." Touch, feel, design are a revelation. The 15" side screen is incredible.

I have made very few typos!!!!

Now I have to figure out how to get this on the blog, but when I first opened the lid at Bentley's yesterday, I went straight on-line withhout hours of guess and mess. For a career Apple disser, I have been seen the light. Worth the outrage price, REALLY worth a third of it!

I was hauling the empty propane tank from the mosquito trap and stumbled on the deck steps, lacerating my leg and laying me helplessly prostrate. "I've fallen and I can't get up" is no longer amuses. I have been losing balance more frequently but usually am prepared and holding onto something, So I bought a $5.95 nifty walker at the thrift store. Easier to get out of bed to pee and I can take a bath without dragging a chair out of the kitchen. Won't be much help carrying propane tanks.

Characters under consideration: Butch the Gay Guy, who got his name before his parents knew that he was going to be a submissive; Malcom (Max) Exposure the talented and very addled and eccentric photojournalist; Garage Opener Guy who sets up shop at the open air international market down on Como. Everyone I know can never have enought remotes. Ever thought you might like to have access to a relative or friend's garage? Just take note of the brand, and what color of button (red, green or yellow) or any wisp of info and he'll get you the right opener, cheap.

Secret note to anyone who has been let in on my big idea please email me so I can start a list.


New Correspondent

Hi All!

This post is headed back to the shop for retooling after getting concerned feedback from parties that inspired it. Will leave it up for awhile though.

I’m tickled pink to introduce you to a fellow I met at the All Ford Nationals at Carlisle last Spring. I enjoyed his tall tales, so I tracked him down and asked if he would do some writing for Wogsblog. He gladly accepted and emailed his first item. So without further ado, allow me to introduce my pal. Rowdy the Polack Redneck.

Hey y’all. I’m no writer. I’m a good story teller, so I’m told. So Wog is trying me out and I hope I get this right. I reckon he’ll kick off the dust, sand off the burrs and throw in a few New York Times cross words,

My given name is Ralph Synzdrojski. Got the nickname in grade school, like Wog. Mom and dad are third generation immigrants with big old Catholic families and a rock solid work ethic. A bit dour and square, but good people by and large. Guess I'm the bad acorn.

My dad, Carol, is 100% Polish. My mom, Carol, is 100% German. Seems an odd pairing what with the Germans and Poles not seeing eye to eye on things for a few hundred years, but when you think about it, parts of Germany and Poland went back in forth over the years. I think Poland ended up with the better half of the bargain after WWII.

Come to find out , both families came from that area that went back and forth so in a way they share some geographical history.

Dad was the youngest of 9, 7 guys and two gals. By dint of his the his family’s hard working example, Carol wound up pretty well off, being the first in his family to graduate college (Detroit University, BS in Mechanical Engineering).

Like all the Synzdrojski men, he started his career at the Bay City Steering Wheel Works which supplies GM to this very day. Old family joke regarding GM started up in the bad old 70’s was “Don’t Blame Us! We can’t screw up a steering wheel. Actually there WERE incidents, like the batch of oblongs that got into the ’48 Chevy Special, and the batch of new plastic wheels that absorbed heat and burned fingers. That was in the day before trial lawyers, so it was no big deal. In fact, it became somewhat famous and collectable. GM never recalled them (I don't think they had recalls in them days).

Other than that, they have garnered many awards and recognitions and are quite well respected in the industry.

Strikes and layoffs were part of life and naturally all the men were big time union guys. Carol yd started in shipping and moved up to the corporate offices in record time. A white collar, non (even anti, I think) union pencil pushing drone up on the top floor of the Works. He got teased a lot, but the family was mutedly proud of him.

After Carol came up with the money-saving idea of a plain wheel with just two simple finger locating bumps at 10 and 2, he drew the attention of Austin Meatpacking (don’t ask why, even he doesn’t know).

Well sir, them boys hired him and he made the big jump, moving Carol and we little ones to strange and mysterious Minnesota. During his short time in Austin, he came up with the Carol Carver, a nifty new kind of knife that could tell the difference between fat and lean. Saved a lot of waste and money. He also invented a process to “pre-render” the rest of the carcass for easier and more compact shipping to the rendering plant in 50 gallon drums instead of trucking a bunch of rotting pig heads on in open trucks up to Van Hoven in South Saint Paul (here to this day, and you’ll still se a truck bed overloaded with horse heads and such) . If you can stand the smell it‘s an interesting place to tour. Hell, they are the original recyclers!

How his resume’ caught the attention of Sam Walton we will never know, but to make a long story short, we took up residence in Bentonville. Carol was in on the big change from the G.C. Murphy sort of retailer to the new “Walmart” conception.. Floyd had been up to what we in Austin called The Cities, but are better known as St. Paul and Minneapolis.

He shopped the new Target out there in Roseville and got an idea. He got kicked out of Sam’s office many times and nearly got fired. But Sam’s wife liked the idea and that there is how Wal*Mart got started (it was Carol’s idea to put that star thing between the Wal and the Mart).

You can say this for old Carol. Big business didn’t let no moss gather on that rolling stone. We were soon back in Minnesota, Twin Cities. Daytons had hired him away but Sam soon saw to it that an obscure insertion into Carol’s employment agreement (worked out on a placemat with Sam over longhorn bottles of Lone Star at the Crooked Steer which always reminded dad of his first job. "Crooked Steer? Steering wheel? Get it?).

Carol was sure that clumsy clause wasn’t in there when he signed it. Hell, it wasn’t even the same ink. But Carol knew Sam, and one was best served by not crossing the wily and temperamental old coot who had the last word on everything.

Having just moved the family to a nice Catholic St. Paul area, what with we kids in grade and high school, Carol was bound to put down stakes.

He got a job at a non-profit that came up with a big profit plan to build the City of the Future right down there by the old rail yard. Big deal, big bust and Carol took the fall, even though he was the only guy who did things right. He proved out in the end as that whole Choo Choo Train Park concept has ultimately worked out real good, not that Carol gets a penny off it.

By now were married off, so when a call came from an old Italian feller from Ohio, the Carols pulled up stakes again and headed for the Quad Cities between Pittsburg and Philly. Guido Bartolomo was an old convenience store and apartment developer. He’d made a few bucks and had a pretty good thing going. Still lived in the ‘50’s Rambler he built for his family. Carol got put in charge of checking on construction and bust’n supplier's and contractor's heads.

In a tightly held family business, Carol fit right in. Tough, Hardworking, Loyal. Guido’s type of Polack,

Guido had a kid, Sonny, who was something of a wild one, comparatively speaking, so the Old Man weren’t too upset when he left the family business and bought a sports franchise, which, due to legal reasons, I cannot reveal. I think it’s still in the family, last I read the Sports Pages, but Sonny got all mixed up in some shady business with the Governor of Louisiana and he had to turn over the team to his brother and The Old Man’s best lawyer and policy maker.

When the old man passed at a ripe old age (in his office at 5am as I'm told, Sonny and Vicktoria took over and suddenly dad's way of thinking didn't fit in anymore.

Carol and Carol moved back to St. Paul and dad got a great VP of construction job at a former short term employer. Got his pension and benefits besides a decent wage, but retirement beckoned and he let when he was vested,

When Carol retired, he and Carol bought a nice solid 50's rambler up Nordeast way in Saint Anthony Village. Neat as a pin in a community that is mostly retired, wealthy blue collar. I think it makes Dad comfortable, as he's still a hardworking working blue-collar kid made good.

Did some consulting for a big bait shop outlet in Detroit, and later another one in close to home down Owatonna way.

Same type of job, making sure things were done right, finished on deadline and under budget. Stores are pretty darn fancy though and the place is going great guns...theyve expanded their offerings to include related gear -- like Joe's Sporting goods on a grander scale. Lots of stuffed game stewn around if you just want to look and not buy.

Stuffed dead animals. Now THAT is what I call "wildlife preservation."

Now he's watching his investments and pensions and so forth. Owns a rental house down there in St. Paul, but with real estate the way it is, not sure if he's making any money and it isn't my place to ask.

Grand Knight, Legionairre, Lion and grandpa for a corral of smart, good look'n grand kids (even mine). that's Carol today. Just don't ask him for money and you'll get along fine.

Ride ‘em Cowboys!

Friday, June 23, 2006

Cop Magnet Attracts Cop

Hi All!

My dark cloud followed me to LaCrosse.

After an evening of sightseeing, blogging and photojournalisting I headed North out of town on what is techinically highway 35 with speed limits of of 25, 30 and 35. Two lanes, wide open no other traffic. 46 in a 35. Wog, meet Yang. Officer Yang.

I calmly asessed the situation and ran through all the tips and tricks I have learned always after the fact.

I was not worried about a DWI, athough I had spent couple of hours at Howie's Hofbrau playing buzztime trivia and amazing the local color with my vast intellect, followed by a nightcap at Kellogg's Keg down on Lacrosse and 5th.

Taps were 50 cents, cranberry/7-up was $1.50 and bottomless. So I was drinking and pissing and playing and chatted folks up and vice versa (hit on by a cute drunken coed who had a drunk, violent boyfriend who I kept beating at trivia).

Long story short, the wiry little skink of a regular got into it with the three guys and their gals, who were already fighting amongst themselves over darts.

A very nice brawl broke out and the skink was tossed and the door was locked, but afraid his pounding fists of iron might break the glass, the big fat crabby lady bartender let him back in with a promise to be good and an apology to the nice young boys who were keeping the place afloat with booze sales. Lots of Jaeg Bombs were dropped.

Well, you can predict what happened after than that.

I accidentally left my digital voice recorder on and caught alot of the drunken bluster which led to the next altercation and te extas the cycle kept repeating.

When I'd had enough fun I sat in the car with my camera at the ready. The skink was waiting outside the door and it was pushing closing time, but nothing happened after 5 minutes or so and he noticed me so I moved on to Kellogg's Keg. No trivia but great chat with tatooed, buff characters that weren't used to decent folk in their private club.

I shared a printout of my blog. The bunny poem got a guy all riled up for the animal cruelty and such, and politics got ito the mix when "Spot" put on the spot asking my political outlook as we approach the fall elections and 2008. I told the truth and got a hearty handshake (ouch!) and slap on the back (double ouch).

He is gung ho and like me, dissapointed in the wishy washy GW. He predicted McCain v. Clinton and thought I was daft to handicap Gingrich v. Gore.

I took a few photos (the blog pages helped cooperation). I really think they were so shocked that they humored me. Spot had a stack of bottles on his table and it would have made a great shot to get him in the picture I took, but he begged off for "legal" reasons. Very understandable.

Took my leave and headed out meet my fate.

What is the first rule of avoiding a DWI? Crack window just far enough to converse and slide out your license. Never did that before but it was instinctive. That got the $64,000 "Have you been drinking, sir?" question. Instinctive but actually true was my negative reply, "NO!"

Sat for 10 minutes of eternity and the strobes blasting through the window started to make me feel ill.

I had gathered all my gear, together and awaited my fate.

For the 5th out of 6 times I have been pulled over for the slightest infractions, he let me go.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Watch this space

Am posting from beautiful LaCrosse, here at the Days Inn for Drew's baseball tourney. Tonight while the kids are away, the dad will play.

Short Schotz:

The Current comes in great on the 52 toward Rohester, due t their using WCAL's old tower in Northfield.

The famed "Minnesota Road Block Brigade is far more active in your rural areas.

One of the few times the cheek to jowl drive alivers broke up enough to squeeze thru in right land took us past a speed trap. Since we were only going 60 in a 70, I didn't sweat it but Drew was a bit anxious. Hey it's the Dave Bishop expressway. 70mph meaning 79 or more won't even drw a glance.

Speaking of Hwy 52, Rep. Bishop really brought home the bacon. Doesn't hurt that Sviggum uses it as well. Huge expansion to 6 lanes underway for several miles. The Rochester part s done and Albert Speer would have approved of the Teutonic symbolism harkening back to the birth of the autobahn in 1936.

As Souch sez, "Don't tell ME we don't have any money!" Fact is, under turn of century the dispositon highway money is now reiduculously and sshamefully tilted toward Rural MN that doesn't NEED that much anymore. Breezing thru Rochester, desit all the elderly and Somali drivers, move along fast. Couldn't help but to feel sorry for us in the Metro.

Watch for a roper set of Schotz (BTW it is NOT Sponsered by the German delicacy. I suppose I'l have to modify the way I use the name when the lawyes come, but that wold be fie because it would mean I would draw so many readers as to make me noticed.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Jaegerschotz vol. 1 no. 1

Liver update: Vitals stable+ but weak. Blood tests are trending more up than down after a pretty scary near system crash a few weeks ago. Now you know what set me off about blogspot. I ain't got time to mess ith all that stuff and nonsense.

No comments coming in – what does it take to rile youse up? I think I'll plan a stunt and alert the MSM (Main Strear Media Drive).

My two Cretin-Derham high schoolers have been awarded $1000 each in scholarships from the St Joes' Academy Alumni Association.

Laura is back from post-school year retreat. Much happiness all round but at this stage in life, such uinions are not without hitches and glitches, but being here with my family intact is all I need and more than I deserve.

Still hectoring my long-time friend and Capitol super-insider to join me for a post-Session review. I tried to get him to agree to Keegans on Thursday, but unfortunately he is known to most who normally are there. He is Ed Burdick/Al Johnson-like in the pains he takes to avoid the slightest hint of betraying his personal views. Not a bad strategy for someone who has to get voted on to keep his job every couple of years.

Through a wide array of power balances and personalities, esp speakers, this person will someday have a bust next to Ed and Al. To bad Al got their just a bit ahead. He might never make it to the top, but there isn't a more devoted, hard-working, honest, passionate, fair, smart public servant.

He makes a lot, but I'm to sure he even keeps track of his money. Adopted a little Brother and Sister and supported them through College. Needless to say, their lives are 180% different were it not for him.!

Weather report. If you dare complain about this summer you don't deserve to live here. No, you simply don't deserve to live, and if you are a big fat sweaty guy or gal with clogged arteries ...... I rest my case. Even the mosquitoes are hiding like the Taliban.

Llike latest posts? Took a big chance in dashing off the ethanol piece as a 'HUGE U of M doctor appointment loomed. The gods of blogdom must have heard the admiral's complaint. Published barely edited.. Most good writers can't keyboard very well and once you've hunted and pecked you will nener be able to type properly. I use six fingers: Thumbs, pointers and eff youse.

That Picture of gore made me ten minutes late but no harm no foul and damed if I wasn't gonna work that image in. Of course they always insert on top and I drag it down a third of a screen at a time. Suppose I should learn how to do it right but I'm gonna write my HTML in Oppen Office from now on. You can't imagine how many keystrokes and minutes were consumed in moving that last image to it's place at the end of the St Agnes bit of fluff.

Need a refreshing pick-me-up? Make like the handome, vibrant, healthy kids!

1. Find a bar. Not very difficult. Just make sure it stays open until 2:00 am.

2. Check out the two-fer happy time. Generally 3 r 4 to 5 or 6 ane -11 or 10-12, depending. Bit of research and effort required. Have a beer at each place you check out so you are primed to hit the Golden River.

3. Order up a double round of Jagbbulls. All the inebriation and stimulation one can injestlegally. What a great combo! It is served in a shot glass inside of a regular glass. The Jaeger goes in the shot, the Red Bill surround it in the big glass. Best downed in one (before you can taste it). Did taste it and didn't like? Well it's an aquired taste and requires practice. Do several repetitions

4. Hope that you or your ne of your posse has a credit card with money on it. Even happy hours ain't free and this is no cheap buzz!

5. If you can find your car in under 5 minutes, you can drive. Don't believe all that were founded on noble principals and outgrew the founders and turned the principals into a billy club wielded mercilessly as they started pushing ahead of the weaker pigs at the Treasury Trough.

They get paid to scare you, the bastards. Don't listen to 'em. Look up Candy Leitner and know the original mission of MADD.

(I made up an acronym for my own organization: DAMM (Drunks Against Mad Mothers)

New Feature

Hi All!

It gives me great pleasure to announce the launch of a new regular wogsblog feature, brought to you by the inspiration of:

German for master of the hunt in the sense of "expert" or "committed" hunter) is a strong (70-proof; 35%) liqueur flavored with herbs (similar to Danish stomach bitters such as Gammel Dansk, the Hungarian Unicum, or Czech liqueur Becherovka ). The exact list of the 56 herbs used is kept secret. Although licorice is a major component of its flavor, it is not as predominant in Jägermeister as it is in true licorice-flavored liqueurs. Contrary to urban legends, Jägermeister contains neither deer blood nor opium.There has also been a song entitled 'Downing a Bottle of Jagermeister' by a Swedish band called 'AJ & The Gays' (Anton Hasselmyr & Julius Gabbitas). Recently, there has also been another song entitled 'Blame it on the Jager' by US artist Blueprint_(rapper) in a collaboration with Rjd2.

is the main product of Mast-Jägermeister AG. The company's headquarters are in Wolfenbüttel, south of Braunschweig, Germany. The company was founded in 1878 by Wilhelm Mast. In 1934, the recipe for the herbal liquor was developed, and the product was introduced to the German market in 1935. The original purpose of this concoction was medicinal; being used to cure everything from an incessant cough to digestive problems. In Germany, it is still widely recognized as a digestif and is kept in many German households for such purposes. Beginning in 1970, it was exported to 60 countries. In the USA, it became popular through savvy promotion by Sidney Frank and association with the wild partying of heavy metal bands like Metallica and Slayer. The product was widely exploited as an alcoholic "shooter" and is found in many American bars today.

The Jägermeister logo, the head of a stag with a glowing cross between the antlers, is a reference to the story of Saint Hubert. On the edge of the label of a Jägermeister bottle, the following poem by Otto von Riesenthal is printed:

Das ist des Jägers Ehrenschild,
daß er beschützt und hegt sein Wild,
weidmännisch jagt, wie sich's gehört,
den Schöpfer im Geschöpfe ehrt.

In English:

This is the hunter's badge of honor,
that he protect and nourish his game,
hunt sportingly, as is proper,
and honor the Creator in creation.

Or, slightly more loosely but preserving rhyme and meter:

"This is the hunter's badge of glory:
He safeguards and protects his quarry,
Hunts with honor, as is due,
and through the beast to God is true."


This is not a commerical site. It is a parody. Sheesh!

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Fun to be Right Once Again - LSTs Discredited Again

Hi all!

Today we get the news that the cure-all magic corn squeez'ns is costing us at least 10% at the pump. From memory, as I am in a rush to get ready for a meeting with the liver transplant team, gas costs around $2.50/gallon and ethanol over $4.00. Of course, we only use 10%, hence about 40 cents/gallon for the "renewable resource. Environmental wackos like ex-conservative GOP Governor Turncoat want to push that up at least double right away ASAP.

Squeez'ns 'were first used n the late 70's during the first "Gas Crisis" (Remember how we had only about a year's supply of crude in the ground?? LST (Liberal Scare Tactic).

In addition to this miraculous solving of the energy crisis, ethanol was touted for it's clean, hot-burning pollution reducing qualities. It saved the corn industry as well.

As a teenage skull full of mush who still disbelieved Cretin High's Prof Tierney's wisdom, I still believed what I read in the dailies. Drove my '72 Bug down to the Cenex Co-op down Inver Grove way and got an early tankful of 5%.

Barely made it home. The engine ran like crap. Was lectured by my mechanic to avoid the stuff at all costs. Charged a pretty penny to rebuild the carb.

The solvents in ethanol dissolve all the residue which once settled harmlessly on the bottom of the gas tank. Run ethanol through and the gooey syrup is clogs the carb. Millions of small engines were replaced needlessly over the years as there sensitive tiny carbs succumbed to winter storage. Old gas develops a bit of varnish. Larger engines can burn it up but small implements like power lawn gear tools clog right up, beyond being worth fixing. So count the likes of big bad businesses like the old OMC and Toro. Briggs and Statton, Techumsa and Honda, to name but a few. Don't forget the pollution from landfilled implements.

See here now. I shan't go on because the argument is settled to my satisfaction in the way that GW (Gore's Whining) apostates are satisfied that we annoying little ants are gonna kill our Mother in 10 years. The research is convincing and the nattering negative pettifoggers are a tool of Big Corporations (DeKalb, Pioneer, Cenex and biggest of all, Cargill and ADM).

Truly, loyal plebians, the vast research IS out there on Ethanol and other "renewable fuels"

over all they hurt more than help, drive up prices, degrade mileage, increase repair bills, power the small engine industry and harm the environment during refining by a large factor of what burning it saves.

Population bomb, New Ice Age, Mutual Assured Destruction, Y2K, fuel crises GW, Sunspots -- what a crock. Well, I'm a bit afraid of sun spots.

Time to see Dr. Lake. Wish my liver luck!


Monday, June 19, 2006

An Open Letter to

Dearest tits,cunts,dykes and fairies.

I've 'ad just about bloody 'nuff of you and your sorry depraved lot

I have spent a good 20 hours of my precious time on my Bold New Work, 15 of which were lost as I tried to reason and reckon out how you kept bloody fucking up and strewing bits of html about bloody cyberspace.

Have put off Final Release again and again. In desparation, was compelled to reluctantly let out a promotional tease to hold off the backers.

Should fucking well be long done and published by now.

No pattern, just bloody fucking random acts of butchery taken to my work.

Dirty Cockney street snipes. You lay about the gutter all day in your bloody filthy excrement.

Buck up and wrench your foamy chins from the pavement. For God, Queen and fair England, I say, You parasites had better change your tune.

I'll put Intelligence on you the next time this happens.

The Pakies can't wait to take you over and grind their heels into you like the stink'n cockroaches you are.

I did my best to cut, resave in numerous new drafts, Word, and emailed to myself.

Only thing that kept me the least bit sane.


Fix your bloody mess our I'll find you and hang yer bollocks over your forehead, cocks!


Admiral Winston "Wacky" Wog, RAF, retired, loonie.

I Ran Over a Bunny with my SUV....Father's Day 2006

Last edit 2:00 PM 6/21

Hi All!

Reflections on Father's Day 2006

I hadn't been to Saint Agnes for awhile, so I took part in the beautiful 8:30 Mass and was blessed to witness the old pastor's rather bitter farewell sermon and by the introduction of a our new pastor, Father Ubel (gotta be of Bavarian or Austrian or a German Swiss (I'm all three and more) persuasion to hold this position at our very own "Kirche an der Weise" (Church in the Meadow) a lonely, stunning rococo gem literally out in the middle of nowhere.

Our gem is in the relative wilderness (at least for white people generally and Liberals especially) of Frogtown near Uni-Dale.

Father Ubel is a handsome young fellow from St Agnes who is the youngest pastor I have ever known to exist. I'm quite excited about it. Don't wait for my funeral to visit this place. The 10:00 just ended the Orchestral/Chorale series of classical Masses (and we're talking pro musicians from the MN Orchestra, the Chamber and the Opera). Now to a summer program of etheral Benedictine chant.

Am confident that young Ubel will be part of a new wave of priests who will help advance the Church to a clearer, better interpretation of what Vatican II nobily and needfully meant to do in the early 60's. Lots of PC horse hockey is going away already with the final draft of the new Liturgy that brings back a few"Thees, Thous and "and with your Spirit." With you also "is SOOOO lame and so off the track as symbolize all the heresys that have slipped into the teachings. Time for a clean start. JPII got the ball rolling and passed to Rizzo Ratzinger for the goal.

Convenient Catholics, nil. Rome 1. Still early in the first half but that brilliantly plotted score should inspire the Rome club to dominate the next 55 minutes.

So nothing has and nothing will change at St Agnes except for the better. The Parish flourished for 40 years defying the semi-secularists. One kneels at the communion rail and sticks out the old tongue far enough to allow the host to make a safe landing. I short-tongued a and dropped a host in grade school at St Mark's and had to go Msgr Gilligan for a special confession. He was alright though. He would let us take home some of those delightful incense cakes that resembled a Giant Sweet Tart that was popular at the time. 25 cents, lasts for days -- the sweet tart that is, heck the incense as well.

When old Gilligan dropped a big bag of those waxy little white wonders on the floor of the sacristy we had a lifetime supply of snacks (it was ok - they weren't consecrated or even blessed yet. Fresh from the ovens of the Altar and Rosary Society gals -- Grandma Catherine was one of those, but I don't recall her ever letting me sample the fresh wafers. Those little wonders just melted in your mouth, but like to stick to the roof of one's mouth so you'd have to kneel a bit longer after communion until you got the whole Body of Christ into your soul.

They still have 'em at Aggie's just had a roof sticker yesterday. Like glue. Almost had to "stick" around for the Supersized Tridentine High Mass mit All the trimmings. Give me a minute to amuse myself here.

Welcome to St. Generic, the Bland. 'Wassup?"

What kinda Masses you got?

We only provide the Box of Chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get but there's a bit of the old Mass buried in all the improvisation. I must warn you these run a bit long, especially if we are doing 50 baptisms after the sermon.

I hear you can get your child a personal Baptism over in Frogtown. Is there one in the Box of Chocolates today?

Right before communion! Looks like about a couple of dozen but some just show up and some don't. we don't want them unless the parents are ready and frankly, we're talking about taking it off the menu. Kinda silly and irrelevant, but the generous donors, er, old people, still dig it.

No thanks. Kids, let's blow off Highland and get down and dirty in Frogtown.

YEA, daddy, YEA!

Honey you sure do spoil those kids.

Nah, they're our little Saints in Training. A spiritually nutritious Mass is much better than that overpriced hippie crap.

God Bless You and Welcome to Saint Agnes. Hi kids!

Hi sister Bonaventure!

What will we be having today?

Has the menu changed?

...Peals of uncontrolled laughter....

Oh you dickens. You think McDonalds is gonna change? Give the market what it demands. Marketing I. Now I do see quite a line forming, so can I take your order?

Could you go thru it? I just love to hear you say it.

Bless you Son. Surely there is a special place awaiting you in Heaven, but not the tight hand seat of the Father. Jesus snatched that primo spot a long time ago. A bit of patronism, but they're Trinity, so I guess we can't complain.

Alrighty then, wir habben der Leicht (plain value meal, 25 minutes, no nonsense, no sermon and onl a couple of servers, er, altar boys) Starts at 6:30 start for the ending and beginning shfit workers.

Am nexten Nexte, Ich recommendiere der Klassik. Hymns, a dozen altar boys, good old hymns anda nice sermon, all served up in 45 minutes or less (excepting Palm Sunday which pushes an hour.

Endlich, Der Grossen. Supersized with Shubert' Mass in G , an army of altar boys a dozen deacons, three priest celebrants and a gaggle of visiting high mucky muck clergy who take advantage of their power and position to snarf up the best seats in the House. Smothered with incense and doused with gallons of Holy Water. Since it's Corpus Christi Sunday you get a n armed brigade of peacock plumed Knights of Columbus to lead the Procession on Summit. We put off the Spate Erwahcner special from 12:30 to one, because gie Grosse will run a bit longish. It will sure hold you until next week, though.

OOH how I DO carry on. I had better take your order. Thank God we got all the aisles open! Typical Sunday rush.

Well, let's divvy up a Grosse, eh kids?

YEA daddy, YEA!

Great choice! Bless you. Settle up the Ushers at collection time. Now just pull into the waiting spots and say your prayers and Novenas, work the beads and take your meditations.

Your order will be up in an hour or less, depending on what our Great Oratore, outgoing Pastor Welzbacher does with his farewell sermon. The pastor's page takes up a full page of agate type this week so we might run a bit late. You won't run out of prayers so practice the Virtue of Patience if needed.

Thank you Sister Bonaventure! God Bless You!!!

Oh you darling little saints, just call me Bon,

NEXT! Thanks for waiting. Will we have the regular this glorious Corpus Christi that the Lord made for our Salvation? Alrighty then, der Klassik it is, was and ever more shall be, world without end, ahMEN!

Enough plugging my Rock. Well, just a few extra notes regarding what you Do and Don't get at St. Agnes. Coming to a Parish near you.

Do get:

Comfort of tradition, convention. Just one easy to follow missal if needed as a crutch. You really should know it by heart if you aren't one of those convenient Catholic Easter Bunnies and Christmas Presents (old Father Schuler humor. Just went into assisted living holding a First Class ticket on the super light-speed Heavenly Express).

Altar boys in proper attire. Clean, starched and pressed pressed and starched cassocks.

No homosexual clergy --are you kidding me? St Agnes catches them young and brings the stray lambs home to the flock. Personally I am offended at having some of The Church's hard earned treasure looted by that devil Bruce Anderson (obviously Protestant or agnostic.

No, St Agnes plays it straight all down the line.

Concession to the world of vice and selfish hedonists (old people with bad knees, actually) St Agnes sports very nice padded marble communion kneelers. Took 125 years to come around to that.

Appropriate, respectable clothing. Not so many lace doilies or whatever ya call any more. Kind o slacked off on that one, but if there are men's anymore they are clipped to the back of the forward pew with those super vise grip hat brim squishers
Nice cream coated and guilt (er, "gilt" - same difference) bedecked rococo Austrian "Peasant Style" vault -- a cheap day trip to Der Vaterland. Locked more often, unfortunately, but even as the power of St Agnes scared away generations of vandals, the neighborhood harbors alot of sinners.

Darned near Multiculturalism enough to make a grown Liberal weep. Blacks, Africans, Hmong, Vietnamese and assorted other Asians (now THAT's as multicultural as the Yahoo American Redneck Tribe and snooty Briitsh Nobility, sez vous plait?), ex-commies recently emerged from behind that old Iron Curtain that Ronaldus Maximus and Johannes Paulus II tore off. No Native Americans, alas, and even gays can sneak in as long as they stay in the closet and keep their hands off of themselves and their partners for an hour.

Other Holy and Immaculate accoutrement such as classic brass tools of the trade from 19th chalices and dropped host catchers, Nice chapels, an awesome baptismal font and black forest wood carvings from Giant Statues to ornate Confessional doors reminiscent of those amazing old cuckoo clocks. A computerized (one must make use of God's blessed inspiration) three bell tower with back lit 4 sided-clock (pretty accurate usually) which peals out loudly at the proper times, although our neighbors once took issue with this, it was pointed out that the Roosters are crowing well before the bells chime in (sometimes I swear I hear pigs as well). And, get this, bowing to the power of the gummint an inconvenient but tastefully hidden elevator. Admittedly, the front stairs are a challenge -- one half-expects to see Stallone working out on them.

Lovely carved German stations of the cross and intricate stained glass. Huge, ornate brass salvaged by the simple Austrian and German laborers who tore down the second Capitol -- the next to latest one. I think it was on 1oth. Nice building but a fire trap, apparently, which brought the normal hot air level to an unbearable temperature as the building started getting bloated with politicians and government. Some things don't change. Minnesota government soon outgrew the domed Gilbert masterpiece and has grown like creeping charlie (or cancer, if you prefer as I do). Saintly--soon to be sainted Archbishop John Ireland tried to go one up with a pretty fancy Masqueray of his own, built on higher ground so as to keep things in their traditional symbolic order, very real, actually. and the Archdiocese grew as well, reulting in the rape and pillage of the Wilder House which towered over it's depressing hulk next door, which was somehow spared, although pretty much messed up inside. Hey, only the Pope is perfect!

What you Don't Get:

Grab bag "mass." I become anxious when we need to go to other parishes for communions, baptisms, funerals, weddings, etc. Out of control variety of presenting the "show". Even priest to priest in the same parish develop their own "style." Some even suffice the service with improv and performance art (St. Mike's in Minneapolis is a good example) To be sure there is the basic Order of the Mass is always(?) present more less visibly.

Odd architecture, decorations, and vestments. Newer buildings tend to be way too cool to be a Catholic church! Some will need to be remodeled soon as the progression of new reforms moves forward. I mean, no kneelers, comfy chairs (just remembered the Monty Python bit where the Spanish Inquisition used a comfy chair and soft pillows to torture a confession out of a sweet little old lady. Wonderful.) and altars that look like IKEA specials. One also will see lots of bizarre paintings and wall hangingss, lots of anti-war, pro-diversity propaganda.

Dumbed-down prayers and readings and the notorious 4th version of th Canon (St Agnes only prays the original, that being #1. Four is Canon Lite. Super truncated, about a minute or two long versus about 8 minutes for the Big One. A hugely popular version as it gets the central purpose, the Miraculous Transformation of Bread and Wine out of the way quickly so the Priests and their assistants more time to be "spontaneous."

Neumann Center influence. When the "Guitar" Masses started, this young Peter Paul and Mary (saints names!) fan went regularly to Neumann Center at the U of M, which to my knowledge was one of their first congregations in the country to present the folksy new hymns.

First song I learned on the 6-string was "Sons of God", a groundbreaking hit." Only about 5 easy chords. I thought I was Peter of PPM.

"Sons of God, hear His Holy Word.
Gather 'round the tabe of the Lord.
Eat his body, drink his blood
And we'll sing a song of love
Allelu, Allellu, alellu oo oo oo yah."

Outrageous disrespect. Shorts, sandals, halter tops, raunchily lettered t-shirts, tennis shoes, chatting, getting up and down to go ostensively to the restroom but really to have a smoke. Clapping for a good sermon or at the end of Holy Matrimony is tres' gauche. Worst sin? That would be getting communion and boldting without returning to one's bench or chair or whatever a pew is these days. All to beat the parking lot rush and get to Denny's ahead of the crowd.


To close, I shall read from the Book of Doggerel, according to Wog.

"Im squishing a bunny on Garden tonight. Heading back to the bar with the kids tucked in tight.

It is dark at the time, but fluorescent it seems. Lit up like a pop star in my lowly low beams.

It's a bunny all right, so easy to see, I can tell that this rodent is not scared of me.

I take aim with my right front truck wheel. I hear what makes out like a harelly squeal.

Poor little Peter has had his last meal.

I aim pretty good and I'm happy to say, that plant kill'n sucker is hasen puree'

I'll scoop up the mess in a plastiic dust pan, and bury it back by the plastic trashcan.

Kinda feel bad, I'll be glad when it's over. Soon my fine furry fiend will be pushing up clover.

This just the beginning, but I'm getting bored.

Now go ye in peace to love and serve the Lord."

(and the congregation responds)

Thanks be to God!

Thursday, June 15, 2006

A Curious Packet

Hi All!

DISCLAIMER: Highly Creative Prose. Those what might will accuse the auteur of writing, as has been his wont in the past, admittedly practising that art of Wordsmithy employing the classic techniques of Leary, Hemmingway, Fizgerald, Belushi, O'Rourke and Keillor. In other words, what follows is a challenge to the reader's sophisticated taste, convention, the very foundation of the written word.... In other words, PURE B.S. as only the Wog can dump on endless, immortal and damned hard to kill Cyberspace.

And now for something completely different ......

Our postman, the only USPS carrier I've met outside of a bar, delivered a crumpled manila lettersize envelope which I reckoned contained 'bout three 20lb sheets, a 5"x6" glossy handout an SASE and a candidate survey.

At his point the blogger editor ate half of my homework, the best stuff Ive ever done straight. I can sort of try to reconstruct it. but it was such one-of stuff I couldn't possibly bring it back, so I will pass go and finished this up conventionally so it goes out on time.

It was hand stamped and addressed. so my hairy little antennae perked up. Now I enjoy looking at junk mail more than some. Safe if you don't buy what they're tricking you into. Bills and collection notices and such are saved for later--much much later at times. Or until I lose it. They'll send another if it's so important. I'm doing my best to keep my carrier Trivia buddies employed.

But to receive an ORIGINAL piece of mail is rare enough nowadays as to stimulate little beads of sweaty anxiety.

The return address was from a political bette noir on both sides of the aisle, the pugnacious right-wing "Taxpayer's League of Minnesota."

Relieved, now curious, I figured it was something neat from Strommy and Mason.

Oddly addressed to something called "Citizens for Kuettel", it contained a "Candidate Questionairre" loaded with one-sided questions, which was the norm for all such special interest surveys I answered in my political candidate days of the early '90s.

Apparently, adding to an ugly rumor being passed around the MOB (Mn Org of Bloggers) undeground, was a clerical error at the Campaign Finance and Disclosure Board. In an effort to collect a past due $65 fine for failure to make a final campaign report 10 years ago, the new person refiled my committee in the "Active" file cabinet on the North wall of the office lobby.

I first caught wind of this unfortunate situation when the plastic corrugated postcards from sign printer ambulance chasers started clogging the mailbox like the legal advice offers that greet one after a weekend in the slammer.

The mailing was disappointingly predictable and boiler plate, including a "personal" letter from David who, busy fellow who doesn't mind letting you know. He forgot to sign over his name. Gee, at least have one of your slaves forge it! As a matter of fact, "classy" guys will cross out your name and hand write it to show familiarity. Blue ink is essential. I prefer a sharpee for best effect, but Strom should use a fountain pen if not a quill. Details are the devil.

I expect to see the suspects at Keegan's Trivia night. I will bring my survey and have David 'splain it to me.

I hope he brings his great sense of humor.


Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Chapter 13 - The End

At the end.....

Not written yet.

Fuel Prices Force Reluctant Sale of Fine SUV

This is a 1997 Isuzu Trooper LS 4WD with a 5-speed stick (for REAL men) with 148K easy, documented, well maintained miles.

Every option imaginable and then some, like professinally deep tinted (legal) windows, a high end Pioneer AM/FM CD player with Sirius Satellite Radio support and Premium Inifinity speaker system.

Bigass, kenwood 250W subwoofer available at extra cost (half price = $200)

Owned 5 years, since 100K, recent timing belt and water pump (ever will need again) and lots of lesser repairs to keep it young.

Of course, life hold no guarantees, but this baby should goo straight to 200K miles with routine maintenance.

Offered at $5100 via Want Ads, $4400 firm for Wogsblog readers

Call Paul ASAP - this will go for more!

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Monday, June 12, 2006

Tpwing in the Dark

Hi All!

Now that the Blogging Johnson is on me, I may start writing some depressing medical shit, as I am not ashamed to feel sorry for myself any more -- things suck. Maybe that's all I need write?

I love natural light. I like lamps, I cannot suffer bright overhead incandescents. So I am typing in the dark, which makes alot of work for spell-checksr.

See ya tomorrow. I know I've broken many a vow to my small, huddled, loyal following.

Even though I slept until 3pm tooday, I am still wored out tonight so will wait for some daylight to start bleeding out my heart for all the Workd to read.


P Kuettel in the News

Hi All!

A little bit of genie owlowgy for today:

"A year ago, Carl Edwards skipped the Busch race in Nashville because of a rain out, ruining his chances to win a series title.

Edwards made up for it Saturday night with a dominating win in the Federated Auto Parts 300. He unofficially led 70 of the last 85 laps, and beat Clint Bowyer to the finish by .920 seconds. It was Edwards' second win in the last three Busch races....

Following Saturday's win, Edwards praised Hank Parker Jr., who practiced the car while Edwards tended to his Cup duties at Pocono.

"Hank did a great job," Edwards said. "That was the best car we had all year. We made some minor adjustments and it kept getting better and better. I told P.K. (crew chief Pierre Kuettel) to give Hank a kiss on the cheek and he said he already did." '

The Kuettels were a founding clan in Weggis am Viervaldstaetersee, Schweiss in the 1400s. The coat of arms is on the wall at the small village's Rathaus*

Another Kuettel is in the is bigtime in Europe. Rolf, is a Swiss national hero for his success in ski jumping. Although screwed up in the Olympic, he came right back to win several World Cup events.

We are all blood, albeit watered down, relatives. Guess I got put in a bad branch ;-)


*The Kuettels were a founding family off Weggis on Lake Lucerne, Switerland in the 1400s.