Happy Memorial Day
Weasels can’t salute. Necks too long, arms too short. But the warriors among us, consider yourself saluted.
If you want me, I’ll be around back in the new lawnchair I bought at Wal*Mart on Saturday, reading an actual book. With words and everything.
Later there will be booze. And hamburgers.
May 26, 2008 — 9:47 am
Comments: 51
At least it isn’t an ass picture
Ten Commandments tablets to be sold at auction later this Summer. Expected to fetch $60K. Part of a 1,000 item Heston memorabilia haul going up for bid.
No word on the loincloth.
May 24, 2008 — 8:15 am
Comments: 34
Positively the last ‘Weasel’s birthday’ post of 2008
What happens when you mix a Weasel, late hours, lots of alcohol, an upcoming birthday, a credit card and a sudden and unexpected NRA promotional email? You get the ENTIRE Charlton Heston commemmomerotive collection comin’ at you by mail, that’s what!
Check it: an autographed copy of the Courage to be Free, TWO ‘Cold Dead Hands’ t-shirts (one in blue and one in gray) and a be-logo’d and signatured commememomorative knife, in a signature tin (with a dent in it, dammit).
Yeah, I know. Commememmeorative knives suck. But until that logo wears off, I’m cleanin’ my fingernails with Charlton!
It’s the Friday before a long weekend. Knock yourselves out!
May 23, 2008 — 11:08 am
Comments: 33
Do not miss this!
they were born outside Callendar Ont,
you useless piece of shit ..
No, no. Our boy is only cracking his knuckles. Wait for it…
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
who was it that said nothing like this happens in the U.S.?
thats a laugh .
americans are brain washed into thinking they’re the shit ,
that they were the “main part” of every world war, and that they just own.
guess what bud some STUPID FUCKING AMERICANS posted Hitler as time magazines MAN OF THE YEAR IN 1939 , which btw was the start of WW2, you know the one where 55 million people died ?
oh yeah and also the one were the U.S. sat on there ass for the first half, and then jumped in at the end to get some credit .
oh wait that was also WW1,
and everything else you fat fucks do.
i dont have anything against the U.S., but i dont like naive people.
since your one of the most illiterate first world nations why dont you guys stop listening to media bullshit thats let out by the government of Bush(haha), learn how to read, pick up a history book, and learn how your COUNTRY IS NOT BETTER THAN ANY OTHER and if anything its corrupted, brainwashed, and obese.
Bee-yootiful. That’s what the real thing looks like, ladies and gentlemen.
My blog is complete.
May 22, 2008 — 2:24 pm
Comments: 72
Honey, I think the magic has gone out of my magic rocks
Lookee what I found cleaning out the sideboard!
I was going to blame Uncle B for this — he’s knows how much I love this stupid Junior Scientist shit — but the date on the package is 1988. I was 28, and going through my “oh my god I’m a grownup now and I can buy all the toys I want!” phase.
I’m still going through it. Like when I stared out sadly at people frolicking about in the lake a few years ago, scuffing my foot and thinking, “I wish I could have a stupid inflatable boat.” Followed by, “OMIGOSH, I can have a stupid inflatable boat!”
I find it hard to absorb this lesson. I don’t know why.
Anyhow, I’ve been throwing out junk for months, so I had to eat, like, four of those huge kosher dills to get an appropriate jar.
Turns out, there are instructions. The instructions are: blah blah blah blah. Whatever. I don’t really do instructions.
The Magic Solution — which I assume was once a liquid of some kind — had fossilized into a chewy brick. Not that I actually chewed it or anything. I gather that would be bad. That much of the instructions I absorbed, mostly because it was in all caps and repeated several times.
I tried to revive the magic with some boiling water and a stick. It didn’t dissolve completely, but I figured there had to be a little magic left. I couldn’t tell; the dye in the rocks seeped out and made the whole thing a milky pink opacity.
When I got up this morning and poured off the liquid, I discovered…
(SEE FIRST COMMENT).
— 8:35 am
Comments: 27
Possible Damien sighting
Okay, this is really bizarre.
Damien’s been missing about two weeks now. To get him ready for England, I had him chipped when he was a baby. So, without much hope, I go to his chip-maker’s website to see if they have any advice. They do; they have a little slideshow called Pet Detective.
According to this guy, cats are highly territorial and seldom go far. He must actually hunt pets for a living, because he says, “Around 90 percent of injured/deceased cats that I have found were within a 1-house radius of their own home! Of those, 80 percent were hidden.” He recommends concentrating on the neighbors first. Talking to people. Making up flyers and stuff.
Well, that sounded like bullshit advice to me — if Damien were that close by, why wouldn’t he come home? — but I’ll bounce back quicker if I do my bestestes, so I made up some flyers at work today.
I am neither happy nor optimistic about this approach. When I see a lost pet flyer tacked to a telephone pole, I always think, “ho HO! You poor deluded fool — you’ll never see Mister Whiskers again!” But when you absolutely must eat the shit sandwich, there’s nothing for it.
I was walking to the corner to staple up the first one, and I met a girl two doors down who was vacuuming her car. “What the heck” thinks a weasel and waves a flyer at her.
“Oh my god!” she says, “that’s the cat. THAT’S THE CAT!” Apparently he — or one just like him — showed up at her door some days ago. Skinny, extremely friendly, wouldn’t go away. She said it followed her to the store and she bought it some food. She let it in and out of the house. It hung around for a while. Last sighting, maybe two days ago.
Now, whether that was Damien or not, I don’t know. But I’m as sure as I can be this girl wasn’t lying to me. She was real excited. She called her mother on her cell to gabble about it. Apparently said cat had been an object of some family curiosity. At that moment, of course, it began to rain heavily and I couldn’t fan out through the neighborhood.
Okay. I’m lying, of course. I walked ALL around the neighborhood calling his name and getting soaked, but there were no more humans for me to talk to.
So…how could he possibly be a hundred feet from his own kitty door and still beg for a meal? I ask you! Has anybody else experienced this brand of soap-opera-quality pet amnesia? And if cats really are that scary crazy, will I ever let one outside again?
May 16, 2008 — 5:52 pm
Comments: 82
Not even close, really
Heh. I see from my logs that See-Dubya has kindly thrown me a bone over at Michelle’s. She’s soliciting slogans for the deplorable state of the GOP in 2008. (Pretty amusing thread, akshully).
Commenter at #15 longs for a graphic of a rhino with its head up its butt, and See-Dubya at #24 asserts that your ‘umble weasel might have the skill.
No. I have not. A rhino with its head up its butt would look like an elephant donut with legs sticking out of it. I could not draw that thing.
I have this thing, though. I drew it a while back and was saving it for a post about politics. You know, politics — that thing I used to talk about occasionally, back before I was consumed by my cat and my house and my birthday.
It’s not just that the Republican establishment is now being run by a pack of RINOs. I’m increasingly convinced it’s run by a pack of RINOs who don’t even like conservatives. So in 2008, the Dems are going with the candidate beloved of their fringe and the Pubs are going with the candidate despised of their fringe.
What a very strange election.
I hope they all drown.
Update: Whoa! I was just funnin’, See-Dubya. RINO dude makes it inside a post at Michelle’s.
— 8:17 am
Comments: 46
So, what did I do on my actual birthday?
Welllll…first thing in the morning, I had a dentist appointment. Just a cleaning, but it wasn’t very festive. Then I remembered this was the day my driver’s license expired. Stupid procrastination.
The main DMV for Rhode Island is in the old Apex building in Pawtucket, a department store in happier times. I bought something there once. There’s a sign behind the information lady that says “No more than three garments at a time in dressing rooms.” Last time I was there, I pointed to it. She shrugged. When they moved in, they were told not to change anything because it was only temporary and they’d be out within the year. That was…some years ago.
Well, they motor through things pretty efficiently, anyhow. Within fifteen minutes, Magic Voice called my number.
They give you a choice now: new photo or stick with the old one. My old license photo was awful, so I confidently toe’d the line for a new one.
Bad idea. I was grievously hungover from birthday celebrations the night before and it showed. At the last moment, I decided I should open my eyes wide and only one of them obeyed. So my eyes came out two radically different sizes, like Moron Billy made flesh.
Worst. Licence picture. Evarrrrr.
Then I came home, ate a big ol’ steak and drank a great deal of alcohol. So it was like every other day, really.
Today I have to drive up to Boston and appear in a corporate video. When you work in the multimedia department, you get volunteered for this duty sometimes. I fucking HATE it. I have terrible stage fright. I’m going to swallow a Xanax the size of my thumb in a minute. After which I shall no doubt say grossly inappropriate things on camera.
So I’m flying the ‘light blogging’ flag today. Talk amongst yourselves.
May 14, 2008 — 7:07 am
Comments: 54
Ugh. Is it over yet?
Kinda ran out of gas this week. Nothing like losing your pussy to put you off your game.
May 9, 2008 — 4:43 pm
Comments: 39
This isn’t very good blogging advice
Do you ever get sick of the sound of your own voice? I know I do!
I was hitting my blogroll this morning, leaving weasel droppings in various comment sections, and I caught myself thinking, “shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! Do you have to have an opinion about everything?”
I just backspaced over the comment and went for a walk. (Yes, now that you mention it, it was your blog…and it was a really great comment, too).
Not conducive to blogging.
Instead, help yourself to a really disturbing graphic of a weasel wrapped in duct tape. Somehow, I thought it would be funnier. I dunno. Maybe if it didn’t look so terrified. Maybe if I’d left it a breathing hole. (On a related note, the Duct Tape Bandit copped a plea and is expected to get ten years).
May 8, 2008 — 2:53 pm
Comments: 39