sweasel.com

Which fiction? The entertaining and often edifying fiction contained in books, or the deadly and arrogant fiction coming out of Washington, DC?

Stick with me baby, Im the congress you came in with,
Luck be a lady tonight.

Toss up. Or we could go back to talking panties.

I just realized it’s a long weekend! My hiking buddy emailed me that she has Monday off, so I went in to my boss to ask if I could have the day off, too. He gave me that ke-rist you’re stupid look.

I’d’ve come in on Monday if she hadn’t said that. And then, I promise you, the complete lack of cow orkers would convince me that some swift pandemic had roared through Providence over the weekend and kilt everybody off.

And would that make you happy, or sad?

/scribbles in notebook a tad too nonchalantly

Um – what’s Monday? Rash Hashish?

Columbus Day. I always forget that one; we don’t have any Italians in the Souf.

I’ve been waiting for a ripping good plague all my life, JW. How I would feel about that would depend on whether I survived it, I think.

Let it ride! Wheeeee! Maybe I should go to Vegas and gamble my own money instead of letting someone else do it for me.

Drunk, pockets stuffed full of cash, Vegas baby. What could possibly go wrong?

Hey did I tell y’all about the hooker bus I saw last time I went to Vegas? On the side it had a picture of a scantily clad woman with the logo: “Hot women to your location in under 20 minutes!” So it drives past me and I see in the rear is a smoked glass door. The Dominos of hookers.

I’ll take ‘Fictional Panties’ for a hundred, Alex.

I had two meetings with one City and one State entity today, and in both I kept hearing variations of ‘when we talk on Tuesday’ and ‘can I get back to you on Tuesday’. I thought they were being extra kind to the overworked Pupster. Now I realize THEY won’t be working on Monday.

*makes eye contact*
*glares back*

Oh. Columbus Day. Shit – I was hopin’ it was July 4th again.

*goes back to sleep*

I was stupid enough to watch the president’s little speech this morning. It kindof reminded me of how a guy will say I love you so he can get you into bed , fuck you blind, and then never ever call you again. Oh yeah, and it’s all the anxiety causing the markets to be bad now, yeah that’s it.

Wendy, it was a whole lotta nuthin’ until he said, “the plan is big enough to work” and something inside me shriveled into an unhappy ball and began whimpering.

yeah! Plus he looked like he was trying not to laugh. I guess royally screwing the american people is a pretty funny joke.

Weasel trivia: the crouching guy is loosely based on an old photo I found of Jimmy Hoffa playing craps. No, he didn’t have a little mustache. I insisted on the little mustache myself.

My grandfather, who was a bit of a dandy, had a little mustache like that one. My brother couldn’t say his F’s when he was a young’un. “Foo! Foo!” my grandfather said to him, “why can’t you say ‘F’?”

“Because I don’t have a little mustache,” my brother said, “you shoolish old shart.” Okay, I added that last bit.

I’ll expound a little on this: “…it kind of reminded me of how a guy will say I love you so he can get you into bed, fuck you blind, and then never ever call you again.”

And…had I gotten so drunk that I woke up the next morning to see GW on top of me, ready to explode in ecstasy, I’d get that .38 snub nose out of the bedside table and blow my brains out.

(giggling: first, I typed ‘brians’, then I corrected it with ‘brans’…blowing your brans out happens in another room entirely. Usually. I hope.)

Jill, I think you just made my brans combust spontaneously.

big enough to work

The intent and the reception are two different things.

It is more like the rape is considered ok because the rapist really cares.

I’ve thought all along that a nudge here or there might not necessarily be bad, but the 700B thing, and aimed about as well as Cheney’s shotgun is kind of scary (and I get scary-ider the longer this goes on). The real question they have to answer before doing anything at all is “why it will help?” and “why won’t it make things worse in the long run?” Just throwing money or regulations at random isn’t helping anyone.

Oh yeah, anxiety is high, but anxiety isn’t the cause, it’s the symptom.

I do what I can, Wease’…

🙂

The real question they have to answer before doing anything at all is “why it will help?” and “why won’t it make things worse in the long run?”

My sense of it is that its intent was to be primarily psychological. So much of economics is based on psychology, and the government was keen on saying, “Look, we’re not going to sit by and let things melt down.” Will it work? Who the hell knows?

Yeah Farmer Joe, The prez is trying to do Jedi mind tricks on us. Sorry, it’s not working on me this time. But I just heard that GW is making another speech at 4:25et again today. Grr. I wish he would STFU.

I haven’t been watching the speeches. There’s only so much anyone in government can do at this point. It’s got to run its course and find its own level.

I thought the proper spelling of that is “bwains”?

Y’know, Weaz – since Monday is a day off for the bovine orkers at Dull Grey Corp, you could just mosey – or even sashay or prance – in with a small bag of Stoat-banned panties and wreak havoc.

Worst possible time, McGoo. Nobody there but the guard at the gate. No cars to hang them from, and he’d remember me for sure.

I just checked my 401K. I promised me I wouldn’t, but I’m a lying hound. Down over 35% from the beginnin of the year.

Waiter…!

Before I head off to read Mrs. Peel’s excellent exposition on poetry, I thought I’d distract y’all.

So, on Yom Kippur – when good Jews are in shul and davening for mercy and forgiveness if not studying Torah – I bought a set of Artscroll’s Schottenstein Talmud, which is the most modern translation of the Talmud into English. The whole set. 73 volumes.

I began to panic. It’ll be sent to my work address (which is across the street from home) because there is no room in my bedroom for a 73-volume set of books. Plus, I doubt Mom would allow it in her home. So I thought I might get it delivered at work and either stow it in my car or find a way to smuggle it and hide it (yeah, good luck hiding 73 hardbound volumes) in my bedroom. But I don’t want my bosses to know, because they’ll think I’m really insane. 73 volumes? Talmud? I’m not even Jewish!

But today, one of our investors was visiting the office to see someone making a presentation for us. This investor is a little annoying, but I try to be on his good side. Turns out, Dad (one of my two bosses) somewhow found out I was looking for a set of the Schottenstein Talmud. (I told my sister a few days ago when she asked what I wanted for my birthday, but I didn’t think too much about it because what would she know about “Schottenstein Talmud”?) Dad told our investor, who’s Jewish and a sort of family friend to boot, to locate one and buy it for me, which he agreed to do.

So, I told Dad and second boss I already bought it (buying it on the day Jews never do business – what will be online store think?), so they’ll simply ask our investor to pay me what I paid for it. And, best thing, they’ll let me keep it in the office!

I’m so excited! I can’t wait for it arrive. Now I don’t have to run away with the heavy box as soon as it arrives to avoid detection!

Anyhoo, just had to tell someone.

Yeah, all this Talmud business (I’m also studying Kitzur Shulchan Aruch and maybe may start with Tanya – Likutei Amarim) is because I really don’t want to pay attention to the real world. I’m immersing myself into a whole different world.

If you convert to Judaism, Musli, Thanksgiving at your house is going to be really awkward. You know that, right?

No problemo, Weaz. Kill the guard, steal the surveillance tape, and stuff the panties in random desk drawers and file cabinets.

Then burn the place down to hide the prank you played on everyone.

Yeah, Musli – and Christmas is really strange, too. Plus you can’t eat bacon anymore. I’d die.

“And on the eighth day God made bacon – because he wanted something really, really good to munch on. And he saw it was tasty.”

Then burn the place down to hide the prank you played on everyone.

…still lol’ing…

Those latin/roman fellas had it right:

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

Who shall watch the watchers? Kinda frickin’ hard when the government is so damn big. And even then, if we see ’em, damn little we can do about ’em. And what if the watchers aren’t the sharpest marbles in the knife drawer?

I’m less than confident. I’m even less confident as how to feel about this continued discussion about a weasel’s loathed panties.

🙂

…and on the NINTH day, God made Bacon Salt and smoked ribs. And it was oh… (smack)… so… (smack snarfle)… good… (mmmph).

Now I consdier myself pretty well versed in the market but this? Moody’s said, “Goldman Sachs’ proven risk management discipline…” We are in Bizarro World now. Here I thought they just made some piss poor investments. Nuance baby.

Oooo, in line with the title of this post. Just think, you can have Barney Franks “gum” your dice for luck. 🙂 OK, I blinded myself with that one.

Hah! I don’t celebrate Christmas. Well, I do in my heart, but that’s it.

I think converting to Judaism would be the last straw. I’d be kicked out.

Dad tells a story. He was in Islamabad and, as is the wont of Pakistani drivers, was weaving through trafic. At one point they stopped at a light. The drivers of two cars nearby were having a verbal fight. The language was foul and extremely insulting. One driver said something, and the other one broke down and cried. Dad asked his driver what the first guy said to make the second one cry, the driver said, “The second driver said to the first one, ‘You’re the son of a dog,’ and the other responded with ‘You’re the son of a Jew.'” After insulting their families, wives, mothers, and lineages, the ultimate insult was delivered. *sigh* Pakistanis are insane.

Allen, you are right. We are in Bizarro World right now. But, I suggest everyone stop by at Iowahawk’s place for a really good laugh. It helps.

Hmmm, gotta try something here Weasel. Test?

Speaking of Bizarro World, Fox has a great “Mockumentary” short, poking fun at all the Sarah Palin bashing out there… 🙂

http://www.foxnews.com/video/index.html?playerId=videolandingpage&streamingFormat=FLASH&referralObject=3146870&referralPlaylistId=949437d0db05ed5f5b9954dc049d70b0c12f2749

Maybe we should just go back to dancing, poo-throwing monkeys?

Hey, I gave you the Panty Option.

On the panties thing, Weez: Listen to Steamboat. He’s pre-med.

It is definitely the Silly Season. My guess is our next form of government will be a Puritan-flavored PC fascism, or something out of The Handmaid’s Tale.

I am NOT pre-med. I’m FULLY med’ed. I took my opiates hours ago. Heh. Silly new doctor. He cautioned me about the O’s he prescribed for my elbow. “They may make you feel a bit sleepy.”

I looked at him (doe-eyed) and said, “No! Really? My goodness!”

Asstard.

But he gave me a shitload of ’em, so I forgive him.

I’m good for the Winter, now.

Weasel, I vote for the panty option. Screw this economy/financial crisis/politics.

Panty Limericks:

A weasel wore panties of black
‘Til the bastards – they crept up her crack.
She then ruled “These must go!”
” ‘Cause the fit really blows!”
“And they’re knocking my stride out of whack!”

Oh, man! jw – I saw that flick – A handmaid’s tale. Weird squared!

So in anger she twanged them afar
And they snagged on an oncoming car
When the driver got home
He then slept all alone
And his wife put his balls in a jar.

Weasel flang the poor panties in haste
In a cubicle basket of waste.
The cow orkers inquired
Wha’ fuck? had transpired
Weasel’s normally really quite chaste?

Book was weirderer, Steam. Like Sylvia Plath decided to go SF.

Weez says panty-flinging’s a waste
“And besides, yall know that I’m chaste”
But Steam wrote some chanties
’bout flanging dem panties
De gustibus non est disputandum.*

* There’s no accounting for taste.

>clapping< Author! Author!

pssst…hey Wease…there’s a lovely photo of a ferret in flying helmet, scarf and bomber jacket at Cute Overload.

Also, a dog dressed like a ham. Complete with pineapple rings.

‘They’ have no clue what the hell they are doing. No, I think they do but they count on a certain percentage of sheep to believe it is raining as they piss on their heads.
Government policy got us in this mess, government interference will make it worse.

Weasel has a huge drawer of socks
Yes – she willingly stocked away socks
Then reality knocked
“Say! A pox on these socks!”
“I could sell them and buy up Fort Knox!”

Weekend Weasel – sung to the tune of “Yes, Jesus Loves Me”

Weekend Weasel – It ain’t here!
Weasel’s hiking – chasing deer?
Plodding, traipsing, in the wood.
Way mo’ better’n in the ‘hood!

No Weekend Weasel!
No Weekend Weasel!
No Weekend Weasel!
The Web site told me so!

* I really wanted to add a raspberry here at the end – but I resisted.*

Ooooooooooh! Frivilolity.

Bloons (#17) is kewl.

Thanks Gnus. My weekend is shot.

[…] Thanks to Gnus in an S. Weasel thread […]

McGoo, our church likes to sing that when the kids come up for the children’s sermon. Sadly, I always have the following alternate lyrics, which I read at Hot Air a while back, playing in my head:

Allah hates you, this I know
‘Cause the Koran tells me so
Infidels, Christians, and Jews we bomb
They are weak but he is strong
Yes, Allah hates you, yes, Allah hates you,
Yes, Allah hates you, the Koran tells me so.

Well, time for some ice cream & chocolate chip cookies.

Snickers with almonds, here.

And to hell with blood sugar. Pbbbbt!

I just got home from work and ate a White Castle. Mmmmmm….crave the wave.