MOJOPOST

My Favorites

2010-12-15T13:58:00.005-06:00

...and one year later, we returned to Mojopost. I'm writing the holiday letter, but in the meantime please enjoy ten of my favorite things here. I hope you like.

Fat Lady & Debbie

The Booger Charmer

Memorial Brunch for Karma

Don't Start None, Won't Be None

I Waited Four Years For This

McCain Surprises Nudist Rally

Bog Politics and Bailouts

I'm No Dr. Doolittle, But...

The Back Forty of My Youth

Mojopost Goes Green

Underpants Bomber: Umar and the Angry Inch

2009-12-29T12:21:00.009-06:00

I had the flu once, and I had to throw out my mattress. Now I see how lucky I really am.

Umar the Underpants Bomber most likely burned his wiener off, but no one has said so. I can’t imagine he didn’t. We’re going to have to pay for his penis reconstruction, aren't we? I mean - we can’t just let it hang there. I wish Janet Napolitano could explain more.

This whole thing worries me. Not the terror part, because we can’t control extremists. It’s a fact we live with. No, what worries me is that some jerk is going to start packing tampons with plastic explosives. The fuse is already there! Or, what about a maxi-pad? You’ve seen the commercials – they can hold ten times their own weight of blue liquid. Plus, some brands have wings! If the terrorists ever get a clue about menstruation products, we are doomed.

Now what? Am I going to have to surrender my feminine hygiene products to the TSA? Those plastic bins are going to be full of mighty hell, is what I am saying, and I don’t care for it one bit.

First they came for your shoes. Then they came for your underwear. Dear Lord, do not let me stand still when they come back for my heavy-days.

Whoopty Freakin' Doo Awards - 2009

2009-12-10T12:24:00.022-06:00

Mojopost proudly presents the Whoopty Freakin’ Doo Awards of 2009. Whoopty Freakin’ Doo’s are awarded for underwhelming performances and embarrassments, that amount to less bang/more whimper. See if your low expectations made our list!

Biggest Waste Of Time Ever

Twitter

Twitter is soon to be as culturally relevant as a CB radio. It is a diversion from meaningful relationships, invented by Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore, displayed in 140 characters or less (like this). #loser!

Giant Sucking Noise

Pres. Barack Obama

Hopey had a crappy summer (birthers, tea-baggers, and Cheney, oh my!). It got even worse when he won a Nobel Peace Prize. Rewarding the new kid too soon is always a bad idea. With the rest of his semester ruined, Pres. Obama will have no choice but to eat lunch with foreign exchange students in the cafeteria. Thanks a lot, Norway!

Epic Failure Of An Ill-Conceived Hoax

Balloon Boy

Everybody got sucked into the balloon, from NORAD to Wolf Blitzer. Everybody except for Falcon Heene, age 6. When it was discovered that Falcon's parents, Richard and Mayumi, staged the hoax to get a TV show, no one was more grateful than CNN. Every little drop of ratings juice counts!

Biggest Douchebag*

John Gosselin

We have never seen the reality program that used to feature Jon Gosselin, his ex-wife, Kate, or their eight children. But we do read the tabloids whenever we’re waiting in line at the grocery store. By all accounts, Jon is a middle-aged, balding chub who likes to put his penis into women other than his wife. When he is not putting his thing somewhere or another, he’s busy spending his children’s education fund on douchebag essentials like Ed Hardy shirts and hair plugs.

Runner Up - Octomom

Most Likely To Fake Remorse

Tiger Woods

Perhaps you’ve heard the jokes by now. “He’s no Tiger, he’s a Cheetah!” or, “Tiger Woods hit a tree and a bunch of women fell out.” The world’s greatest living athlete will now attempt to be very sorry about having extra-marital affairs with plenty of women, but we know better. He’s just sad he didn’t use a disposable cell phone.

* The term “douchebag” is a recipient of the Most Overused Characterization by Whoopty Freakin’ Doo at an earlier ceremony. Douchebag will be retired, and remain locked in a case alongside of Sheeple, Fucktard and Repukelican.

Catching Up With Exclamation Points!

2009-10-28T12:19:00.009-05:00

I have not blogged in a month! Maybe one or more of you wonder why! I'll tell you that and more!

I joined the Y to get my ass down to human size!

I got sick of cable news and politics! Keith Olbermann's noogies! Teabaggers! Balloon Boy! Liberal's fixation with Glenn Beck and FOX News - whatev! I've got better shit to do!

Blogging was taking time away from real-life adventures! Like bowling! And sobriety!

I got my mind on money and money on my mind! So I'm writing a book! It will have actual pages full of sentences to read!

I'm trying to find out what goes into a submission packet for late-night TV writers! Apparently, it is a giant secret! WTF! It's like trying to find a fat kid who DOES NOT smell like Burger King!

Also! The Bermuda Triangle is located off the coast of Twitter, between Facebook and a news feed icon! Unplug when the compass goes bananas!

That's what I'm up to! Hit me back, stranger! Have a happy day!

Jay Reatard - It Ain't Gonna Save Me

Politics Of Love - New VH-1 Series with John Edwards

2009-09-24T13:17:00.012-05:00

Morally impoverished former presidential candidate John Edwards is dating again. Which community college cutie from night school can win John's heart? Watch Politics Of Love, Monday at 9:00 PM on VH-1.

I spoke with Bret Michaels (Rock of Love, lead singer of Poison, douchebag) about dating on reality programs.

"For me, the experience was complicated by medical conditions I may or may not have. Finding the right women, who may or may not share these afflictions - burning, itching and whatnot - was a daunting task for the producers. Once we got everything in sync, I think we resolved my lack of depth with just the right amount of hair weaves, cleavage and Valtrex®."

Flavor Flav, asthmatic cocksman from Flavor of Love, also commented:

"People said my show could not be real, that is was too much to believe. What is not real about women with acrylic nails and breast implants fighting for the love of a short and ugly, but rich and famous man? I mean - hello? Have you SEEN Ron Perelman? And he had Ellen Barkin, when she was hot. I rest my case."

I asked John Edwards if he's still waiting for his wife to die, so that he can marry his baby mother. Edwards had no comment.

How Big Is It? - U2 360 Tour

2009-09-16T12:12:00.014-05:00

Ground Control to Major Tom…

That’s how the U2 360 Tour at Soldier Field started, with a recording by David Bowie.

Ground Control to Major Tom…

It took four days to build U2’s set. What is that? This is a ginormous set of space claws, expelling gasses and digital images bigger than a swimming pool. I came to the show with a healthy dose of skepticism about that monster, wondering if it would seem like a very big and empty gesture. The thing I noticed first is that U2 were brought down to size beneath this structure - they were no bigger than me or the people I came with. The set design is also about accessibility. You see, U2 are just like you and me. Our only differences are net worth and international fame. And special effects. But really, we're all the same.

Take your protein pills and put your helmet on…

The Olds (people older than me) learned lessons about social activism from Harriett Tubman and Bobby Kennedy. Not me. Back in my day, we were enlightened beneath the cascade of Bono’s mullet, as he sang about war with a beat we could dance to.

This is a picture of me dancing and taking pictures during “City of Blinding Light”.

I missed every preceding U2 tour. At 360 I ended up on the floor near the sound mixers. I could feel "Elevation" in my chest!

This is a haunted photo of my WOO WOO! during “Until the End of the World”.

After School Special Moments
You know there have to be several, right? Green lights for Iran. Singing along with “Amazing Grace”. Wearing Aung San Suu Kyi masks. A robot voice reading Stop All the Clocks by W.H. Auden.

Self-indulgence and idealism are two sides of the same coin. You can’t get to where they are without generous spending.

You will love this.

U2 on September 13, 2009

Rock Your Face Off With James William Roy

2009-09-14T23:49:00.004-05:00

Paper Valentines is the latest by musician James William Roy. What does he have in common with Lee Harvey Oswald? People with three names always end up on TV. You just wait! Terrific body of work, sir - five thumbs up!

Joe Wilson Is Your Pre-existing Condition

2009-09-10T10:33:00.008-05:00

Remember that time Congressman Joe Wilson called Pres. Obama a liar on national TV? OK, but what about Joe? To learn more about this fiesty boob, visit Joe Wilson Is Your Pre-existing Condition (click on the text for updates).

Mojopost Keyword Searches

2009-09-04T11:01:00.003-05:00

Sometimes you scare me. Here is a list of recent keyword searches on Mojopost.

1. Mojopo Dies
2. Caligula
3. Naked Teen Rally
4. Michael Jackson latest
5. Naked surprises

Would anyone care to explain? Anyone. If you can explain #1, please remember to include your address and phone number.

School Children Reminded To Avoid Pedophiles and Barack Obama

2009-09-04T10:26:00.007-05:00

Some parents are upset at Pres. Obama because he’s going to deliver a message about personal responsibility to school children. I hear them! If there is one thing I can’t stand, its personal responsibility. Further, I feel that children are going to be bored senseless. We don nead no edjacashun - we don nead no thout cuntrole. Leaf owr kidz ALNOE!

-- -- --

Personal responsibility is bad for morale. Absolutely no one wants to wake up and have to do things. Someone else, I don’t know who yet, usually handles stuff. Make that person watch Obama!

Education is overrated. Take math, for example. The government is wasting millions (billions?) of taxpayer dollars to have some crackpot teach math to poor little kids. This is outrageous! Do we really need to keep these so-called educators on our payroll, when a calculator is much more cost effective? Wake up, America!

I’ve had it up to HERE with Obama’s socialist agenda. Help the sick, help the poor… Jesus Christ! He’s helping himself to my money, is what he’s doing.

Politics are not appropriate for the classroom. If it was, voting would be mandatory. Mandatory voting? Great. I suppose we’ll get fined for not showing up, huh? I’ll sue.

Speech Imp-p-p-p-pediment

2009-09-03T12:46:00.007-05:00

This is an example of my dreams on Chantix, a medication I'm taking to help me quit smoking. Side effects of Chantix include unusual dreams. My dreams are more focused than the video shown, and as vivid and disturbing as advertised.

Last night's sleep had me living at cellular level, and I was receiving take-out sandwiches consisting of live kittens in mayo.

The night before? It was an all-night argument with family members. Each time I was on the cusp of delivering the best fix-your-ass statement in the history of ever, I woke up. No, worse than that. I woke up to go poop several times, plus my comeuppance denied.

I have all kinds of free space available in my lungs these days. What kind of trick is that? Anyone can breathe in and out. Back in the day I could fill my lungs with two packs of cigarettes and wrap my mouth around an exhaust pipe just to show off. Now what?

I've been adding up the do not's and no more's in my life. No smoking, don't stay up so late, don't drink too many martinis on Fridays... On my horizon is a disturbing sense of normalcy and health. What do I have left? HINT: It's the first tool I ever put in my box.

I'm not right in the head, that's what. I will cling to this one thing for the rest of my life. If you want my crazy, you're going to have to pull it out of my cold, dead head.

God bless us, and especially me!

Sanford To Receive The Beating Of His Life?

2009-08-26T10:59:00.007-05:00

South Carolina is not fucking around. Mojopost just received this ominous tidbit:

News Release

For Immediate Release

Lt. Governor to Hold Press Conference Wednesday, August 26.

Lt. Governor Andre Bauer will issue a major public statement concerning the ongoing investigation of Governor Mark Sanford today at 12:00 pm on the first floor of the Statehouse.

Health Insurance Companies Support Death Panels

2009-08-21T12:11:00.007-05:00

Insurance companies are kind of right – death panels do exist. They ought to know because they invented the concept.

Tracy Pierce was denied life-saving treatments by his medical insurance provider. He died on January 18, 2006.

Cigna HeathCare refused to pay for Natalie Sarkisyan’s liver transplant. She was trying to raise $75,000 for a down payment on the procedure when she passed away on December 20, 2007.

In addition to supporting death panels, health insurance companies will refuse to cover patients who have pre-existing conditions.

Chicken Like Me

2009-08-13T11:41:00.008-05:00

I meant to tell you about the chickens. When I came back from Olcott Beach, I discovered that two chickens had taken up residence on the lawn of an apartment complex across the street. Right, OK – but I don’t live on Old MacDonald’s Farm. I live in Chicago.

I took a few photos of the chickens. One is white and one is black – together they were the Yin and Yang of free-range urban life.

Everyone who walked the street stopped to gawk at the chickens in the bushes. Dogs pulled against their leashes trying to get a whiff and a taste. I fed the chickens popcorn and, as a much as I enjoyed the diversion, it occurred to me that I should lend a hand towards getting the chickens off the street. The idea was to have a county employee stop by (maybe in a red convertible) and offer the chickens a ride to a fairyland/coop, where they could raise chicks and live as one. Like a big dummy, I called the local administrative office about the chickens but was told that my neighborhood has no animal control officers and to (more or less) suck it. I thought that was the end of it until the cops came.

The cops beat the bushes with their batons, hoping to scare the chickens out of hiding. This did not work. Also, it was about 500 degrees that day and everyone knows that patience fries at anything above 85. The cops left a young man behind to figure it out. He was wearing official-looking khakis and a polo shirt, so I’m guessing he must have been some kind of trainee with no seniority. The man brought an empty file box with him, just like the kind you have in your office. It was so, so not a convertible.

While the baton swinging and waiting game went on, residents at the apartment complex became agitated. It started with a blond woman in a tube top, who was announcing to neighbors and passers-by that the cops were after the chickens. “Can you believe it? Who would call up on the chickens?”

Other tube-topped people came out to peek and old ladies with dogs stopped and stared. One geezer in a t-shirt and boxers came outside on his walker. “Leave the chickens alone!” he yelled. “They aren’t hurting anyone! Leave them alone!” Ut oh.

I’m watching all of this and I’m thinking, “Holy shit. These people hate me now! They think I hate the chickens!” I cursed my happy daydream about chicken parks with fountains and golden nests. Just then, Khaki Boy caught the white chicken and shoved it into a box.

The young man was growing weary - of the complaints, the heat, who knows? He split and left the chicken of color behind. Poor little dark meat is still on the street. Isn’t that always how it goes?

Big Bang Booty

2009-08-11T09:08:00.007-05:00

To celebrate my first day of a smoking cessation program I enjoyed a full pack of cigarettes. I’ve begun taking a prescription medication to quit smoking, one that causes some people to develop suicidal tendencies and act violently, but the worst side effect I’ve experienced so far is gas. Not just any gas, but legendary, prolific gas. If I put a kazoo up my rear, I could blow the entirety of “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana. During the first week of this program, I'm allowed to smoke my face off. If I have one left after the gas attack.

Pardon me. Excuse me. “Life begins as a gaseous cloud,” I tell myself. “These are not farts – these are my nebulas.”

The pill I am taking works like this: It finds the pleasure centers in my brain where nicotine parties, and then refuses admittance to any and all comers. Nicotine is deflected and thus, I lose what I like to call The Ahh Factor while smoking. Without the Ahh I don’t receive a punch of dopamine when smoking, but I am suddenly aware of heaviness in my lungs, the wreaking stench of cigarettes and my overburdened ashtray.

You wouldn't believe what I've done in the past to keep smoking. I've stood outside in blizzards and thunderstorms. I've picked up lit cigarettes I dropped on the pavement to spare my fix, places where dogs poop and bums stew. I have gone out of my way to make time, space and money for this habit because I enjoyed it very much. Turns out I don't really like smoking. I'm just in it for dopamine.

I bought a pair of sandals earlier this summer, and I never wear them because they make a farting sound when I walk. I put on those sandals yesterday and when I got my stride on, I sounded just like an idling tiller. This quit-smoking program is making me famous in ways I could only dream about.

Gotta run now – it’s time for my pill.

Later today: A story about the chickens in my neighborhood. In Chicago. The cops came…

Here I Go Again...

2009-07-16T12:18:00.002-05:00

Mojopost is traveling east to see Mom. At Mom's house, we will enjoy biscuits and gravy, fresh produce and maybe even some fishing. We will return in about two weeks, give or take a day.

-- -- --

Please note that I will not be able to participate in the following activities while visiting Mom:

Fist fighting
Hard drinking
Drive-by shootings
Exposing myself to the neighbors

Even so, I think we can have a great time! Bears moved in up the road - sitting outside at night should be exciting.

See you soon!

P.S.: Please help yourself to the tomatoes in my absence.

Wise Latina Festival 2009

2009-07-15T11:22:00.005-05:00

Welcome to Day 45 of the Wise Latina Festival! Wise Latina organizers would like to thank members of the Republican Wise Latina Fan Club for promoting Wise Latinas every 30 minutes, with the exception of lunch breaks and extramarital affairs. I would like to nominate Sen. John Cornyn of Texas for Miss Wise Latina 2009. The winner of this crown will be entitled to wear Sonia Sotomayor as a hat for an entire year.

-- -- --

Over the past 45 days I have enjoyed a variety of wise Latina products. Half baked, steamed, battered and fried.

At first I didn’t understand Republican’s fascination with the subject. Then I got aggravated because it kept coming up. Like many people, I came to the conclusion that it would be a good idea to connect a copper wire to my car battery and bite down as hard as I could. When the embers of my former self were extinguished, I realized that the Wise Latina Litmus Test is really the only test that matters when selecting a Supreme Court nominee.

This is my life now. I have decided to stay on with the festival and travel to cities near you, where the lot of us will sleep in tents and think of new ways to ask the same old questions. If anyone would like to stage an intervention, I don’t think it’s too late.

Nurse Sonia and The Doddering Old Fool

2009-07-14T09:06:00.011-05:00

I'm watching Sen. Jeff Sessions of Alabama grilling Supreme Court Justice nominee Sonia Sotomayor. One thing to keep in mind about Jeff is that he's a smoking anus. Not kind of, is. I don't mean that he smokes, but I do mean that his mouth is an ass and his head is full of gas. When he speaks you can smell it.

You have to understand - Jeff Sessions could not become a federal judge in 1986 because it was determined that he harbored "gross racial insensitivity" towards African-Americans. That's a nice way of saying "Jeff loved him some KKK." How ironic is it that this fathead is parsing the definition of "impartiality" and "prejudice" with a Latin woman?

Sonia is trying to explain to Jeff that he is taking her comments out of context. No matter how many times she explains herself, Jeff can’t wrap his mind around it. He sounds like an Alzheimer's patient who is angry at his shoelaces, and she looks like the nurse who is trying to find him some Velcro fasteners. It takes patience.

One other thing: Every time Jeff time says Puerto Rican, it sounds like "porto reecan". It's on my last nerve.

Oh great. Here comes Sen. Orrin Hatch. Is it time for Bingo and a stool softener yet?

Mojopost Goes Green

2009-07-10T02:07:00.022-05:00

It is important for a garden to enjoy a visually appealing watering can. Personally, I recommend yellow because it reflects all kinds of nutritious light. My watering can will support enough water to straighten out your back every morning, when we make three trips to the balcony to fortify precious plant matter.

-- -- --

For your viewing pleasure I present my garden. First, here is what was going down in May:

After channeling my agrarian ancestors and consulting Dr. Frankenstein, I made some things happen.

Witness the same plants, two months later:

OMIGAHD! Can you believe it? Me neither! Clockwise from the left are Dad's dwarf gladiolus, impatients and what I believe to be a hydrangea, a mix of lettuce and tomato plants.

I ROOOLE!!!!

Here are the marigolds, pansies, miniature roses and impatients. This is why I get up in the morning, to see what they are doing! BIG FUN during coffee. La la la, I'm growing stuff...with my bare hands...la la laa.

Does it get any better than this? You think to yourself, "Prolly not," and yet we have not even discussed the tomato stand and herb garden. Have you ever read Stephen King's book, The Stand? I have recreated this exciting last fight of humanity, as represented by vegetables and herbs. My tomato stand used to look like this:

Once upon a time, this stand was a sparse lot of tomato plants with a small supply of natural light, and the plants were expected to grow upside down. To compensate for minimal light in the back, I handcrafted foil reflectors. They worked great until the plants took off like rockets and grew too close to the foil and started frying. I had to install a white light reflector (a/k/a "matte board"). Let's take a peek:

See how that works? I wonder how I found out about white light... Oh yes, I remember! It was on Goog, after I typed in "reflectors for plants" and came upon a golden cache of growing information supplied by pot farmers. Those people have a point, because I've already eaten the tomatoes growing on reflected light, while the tomato plants in the sun have yet to ripen real fruit. Yay for pot farmers! They knew that white relfects a full spectrum of joy!

Here is a photo to cherish, of the entire tomato stand and delicious herbs:

Look at that lusciousness! There are two tomato plants in conventional pots in the foreground, which are growing like cray-zay, but this stand is something I am proud of. It came with cheap plastic legs that bowed, and so I had to hammer in shower rods for support, to keep this thing from falling to it's death four stories below. More than one hundred pounds from that height means Mojopost would have an extreme insurance liability. Boo! We hate liabilities! But we love growing our 'maters.

If you look closely, you will witness the wonder of green tomatoes on the vine. I love the anticipation. No less than one dozen 'maters are promising delicious salads in a few weeks, to go with my lettuce. As for that herb garden I mentioned, feast your eyes on the wonder of aromatic beauty...

What you cannot see, because of the intense foliage, is that nine cilantro plants are maturing between the lavender and basil. There is salsa in my future! I love this.

Mojopoll: Life's A Beach

2009-07-07T02:58:00.009-05:00

The results from the last Mojopoll (What is your favorite time of day?) indicate chronic insomnia. Me too! At night I can turn off my filters and contaminate the Interwebs in peace. However, I also enjoy mornings because I don’t need much sleep. Like you, I am uncommunicative until I have coffee and the resulting bowel movement, but after that we can be friends again.

The new poll (on the right) was inspired by a moron practicing Kung Phooey at the Indiana Dunes on Sunday. I’m going to call him Chi Chi the Cheetah, which may or may not mean he is directly related to this hot mess on Wikipedia.

Black belt? Are you shitting me?

Chi Chi was working on his martial arts moves at the beach with props that included his Okinawan kobud weapons (nunchucks, as they say in junior high school), some knives and daggers. If he was any good I might have tipped him a fiver, but Chi Chi was all thumbs. He was smacking himself in the head, dropping stuff and tripping. The lifeguards were not concerned but – gee – I was. I’m weird like that, when clumsy poopheads are running full-tilt-boogie with sharp objects in their hands, while little babies are trying to build sandcastles.

Obviously, I had to take a picture. Chi Chi hissed at me, but the other guy on Wikipedia says he likes audiences. On a related vanity website, you can view videos.

After the photo op, I asked a park cop if nunchucks and daggers were allowed on the beach. “Absolutely not!” she said. I pointed to Chi Chi and, eventually, a big fat park cop came by in a go-cart to shoo him away.

According to Wiki some people feel it is important to be a “...freedom fighter who fights for the freedom of expression when and where the audience exists.” If he keeps throwing freedom around like that someone is going to lose an eye!

I don’t know what is wrong with me. I never woke up one day and thought about working on my Black Mamba death squad moves on the shores of Lake Michigan. Usually I just bring snacks and tanning lotion.

A Happy Day In Americaland

2009-07-03T01:28:00.010-05:00

Mojopost is taking a long weekend to partake of US Independence Day festivities. In my country, July 4th begins on the 3rd and ends on the 6th, so that all residents in the US will have an opportunity to celebrate our freedom from those limey Brits with poor dental hygiene. Whew - bullet dodged!

This Independence Day has value-added significance in that US citizens will, for the first time ever, lustfully worship before a golden statue of our favorite unicorn, Pres. Barack Obama. There will be Kool-Aid, hopium and Hawaiian birth certificate dispensers on every corner! Rev. Wright, say AMEN before I pop!

I will be celebrating Independence Day weekend at Taste of Chicago, checking out the 85th Army Band, and enjoying poop-your-pants-loud fireworks over Lake Michigan. After a little sleep, I’m going to the Indiana Dunes because it is one of the better places to be if one does not have an ocean handy while in the Midwest. If I see any Michael Jackson mourners in Gary, I’ll tell them you said “hi”.

Let’s get this BBQ jacked up, kids. Hit me back with some of your favorite summertime songs.

George Washington

Moby Prick

2009-07-02T02:31:00.005-05:00

Ug. I don’t even want to bring this up in a family-oriented blog but I must. I need to vent about my neighborhood non-bathing, muttering, crazy/scary guy who was playing with his bits and pieces at the bus stop the other day. We will call him Moby Prick.

There I was, traveling in my car with goodwill ambassadors from another country. At the stoplight on the corner, Moby Prick was sitting on a bench inside of a bus shelter staring painfully, with animal longing, at a young lady seated to his left. She may have been 16 years old – maybe less. This could have been like any other day except for the fact that Moby was manipulating his region, which was fully extended inside of his filthy sweatpants. It was rather obvious that he was setting up things for display, to catch the attention of the young lady.

I don’t know how she kept her eyes fixed on the CVS sign across the street because the thing in Moby’s hand was epic. Like a monster! And what did I do? I split when the light changed.

I’ve gone over a few heroic, righteous should-have scenarios in my head because I lost an opportunity when it presented itself. I’m mad that I didn’t do anything constructive the other day to help the girl at the bus stop. Moby Prick escaped and I am Ishmael.

What would you have done differently? I’m sorry, but I just don’t see me calling 911 to report a homeless erection. If I see this guy again, and that is likely because he lives at that bus stop, is there something I can do when he Queequeg’s his harpoon?

Sorry I'm Late

2009-06-29T15:54:00.002-05:00

I've been tardy. I spent the weekend entertaining goodwill ambassadors from Venezuela, and they gave me chocolate! These people are, perhaps, my most favorite goodwill ambassadors in the history of ever. Not only did they arrive with candy, but there was coffee, too! Wheeee, I'm all kinds of buzzed!

Therefore, this blog will be off-line until Thursday morning. Imma crash hard when the sugar wears off.

See you!

Live Blogging Live Coverage of Michael Jackson’s Death

2009-06-26T01:11:00.011-05:00

If you thought you saw it all when Anna Nicole Smith died, think again!

6:20 PM: B. just called to tell me Michael Jackson died. “He what?” Bad connection. “I said he died!” I asked her if it was suicide but she it was his heart. We both wondered if he would need embalming. Isn’t that awful? Us, I mean. I turned on CNN and they tried to play a clip of MJ singing We Are The World, but it's not MJ - it's Stevie Wonder. Cut to commercial.

6:25 PM: Larry King gave me terrible heebie jeebies. He said that he had to throw away a slide show presentation of Farrah Fawcett because MJ was the bigger scoop. “That’s life in the news business!” Lar, I think you didn’t mean it that way but I don’t know you. Maybe you meant to sound like a creepy old scab? I learn so much about people when there’s a crisis. Now we know why Lar has been divorced 85 times.

7:01 PM: Entertainment Tonight is airing the scraps of Larry’s Farrah presentation. I got through 30 seconds of it because the John Tesh-inspired score inspired the sensation of a hair caught on my epiglottis. My gag reflex is way too sensitive. I have the hardest time brushing my teeth in the morning, too. For tooth brushing, I hang in there. Not for ET. Poor Farrah.

7:26 PM: All of the news stations are airing clips of Michael performing with the Jackson 5 singing I Want You Back. Michael is wearing a turquoise jumpsuit with gold lame trim. It’s hard enough being a kid but 70’s fashions were especially cruel to entertainers. And so were their abusive stage fathers. Hey Joe, why is Michael missing a tooth?

8:01 PM: Larry King wants everyone to know he will broadcast twice this evening, instead of just once. He mentions this 3 times. A panel has been assembled to comment including Jeffery Toobin, a journalist who once interviewed MJ. He looks like he could puke. Someone asks Jeffery about Michael and he basically said that everyone around Michael was a vile, pig-like whoremonger and they should all roast in hell. Then he disappeared. Bravo, sir!

9:30 PM: TMZ.com broke the news about MJ, and the story about them scooping real journalists is on Yahoo!, CNN and ABC. Is this anything we need to high 5?

9:31 PM: Over it. Done. Had enough. I called Mom, who is TV-less since the digital conversion, and she asked me about today's news. “Michael Jackson died, Ma.” “Did he kill himself?” she asked. “I wondered the same thing, but no – it was his heart. Maybe pills. That’s what his lawyer said.” She loves ET and Access Hollywood more than anyone I know. Mom has many questions that I am (sadly) able to answer.

Belated Father's Day Greetings To Gov. Mark Sanford

2009-06-25T00:52:00.008-05:00

Belated Father’s Day greetings to Gov. Mark Sanford (R-SC). He could not celebrate with his four children over the weekend because he was out of town, working the creases out of his chorizo in Argentina. With his mistress. I was so surprised! A Republican with a woman?

-- -- --

Wait a hot minute! Isn’t this the same guy who had so much to say about Bill Clinton’s nasty business? Yes, he said:

“I think it would be much better for the country and for him personally (to resign). I come from the business side. If you had a chairman or president in the business world facing these allegations, he’d be gone.” [Sanford on Clinton, The Post and Courier, 9/12/98]

Karma works in mysterious ways. Without Karma I would have never known that the road to FAIL begins somewhere in the Appalachian mountains, which are connected to Argentina. Who knew?

Mrs. Sanford, I know a great lawyer. Don’t even bother yourself with that phony stand by your man silliness. Do the right thing – beat his ass on live TV.

What is it with US governors and their philandering pee-pees? If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Sarah Palin hired a private investigator and is eliminating her 2012 rivals one at a time.

Check out this clip of Sanford's confession. The women in the background make it all worthwhile.

Fat, Drunk and Stupid - Chicago Cop On Probation

2009-06-24T02:09:00.006-05:00

In February 2007, Chicago police officer Anthony Abbate went to Jesse’s Shortstop Inn and partied like it was 1999. When a female bartender refused to serve him more drinks, he attacked her. A surveillance camera in the bar captured the beating.

-- -- --

Officer Abbate was originally charged with a misdemeanor before the video was released to the public. Charges against Abbate grew to include felony battery, official misconduct, conspiracy, intimidation, and speaking with a witness. He was suspended from the police force, but not terminated.

Lawyers and the judge could not wrap their minds around the list of charges against a police officer, so Abbate's charges were reduced. He was tried and found guilty of aggravated battery instead.

Yesterday, suspended Officer Abbate was sentenced to two years probation per Judge John J. Fleming. He will be assigned to perform community service at the average rate of 2.5 hours a week. A few anger management classes, a curfew and POOF, all the bad stuff goes away.

Judge Fleming said, “If I believed sending Anthony Abbate to prison would stop people from getting drunk and hitting other people, I'd sentence him to the maximum. But I don't believe that is the case."

Let me see if I have this straight. (Suspended) Officer Abbate was granted a pardon disguised as community service because enforcing justice against bad cops is a complete waste of Judge Fleming’s time. Is that about right? I’m so happy that we have judges who take the time to explain the subtle nuances of permissible injustice.

Mojopoll: Latest Results Now Available

2009-06-23T01:10:00.006-05:00

Results from the previous Mojopoll results are in. As it turns out, Dianetics (by L. Ron Hubbard) is a book people have bought to poop on at different points in their lives (almost 78% percent of you). The other book you are most likely to express your anal gland on is 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Today we learned that you are not falling for hoodoo or gurus. YAY, we love learning!

-- -- --

Before we head off to the new Mojopoll, think of your favorite time of day. Set the stage in your mind and hold onto it for a moment. I’m having one of those moments myself right now because I’m sitting outside on the balcony. The people walking by on the street below sound interesting, plus I am wearing my favorite underwear. It is past midnight and there is only a small breeze. I can see planes flying to and from O’Hare and Midway, but I can’t hear them. The fat guy with a tiny dog is coming back from the gas station with his nachos, right on time. I can think when it’s like this, and I don’t mind if I do. Yes, I would love another! Thanks for asking.

Folks, I’d love to know the answer to this question: When is your favorite time of day? The poll is on your right. Feel inclined to offer the why’s and because’s in the comment section below. Be as honest as you please. The traffic here is light on Tuesdays.

Have a happy day!

Garden Variety Revolution

2009-06-22T01:43:00.004-05:00

I spent the weekend protesting the Iranian elections from my balcony jungle night and day, day and night. The symbolically green tomatoes, along with the new Stevia plant, and me are pert near ready to drive to Tehran right now. I’ve got garden trowel and I’m not afraid to put it anywhere it should not be.

-- -- --

What we need is a shit ton of salt. It is the best thing for slugs and slimy dictators. If US citizen salted Dubya with even a small teaspoon of Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning, we wouldn’t be in half the mess we’re in now. Look – it’s not hard. Even margarita salt will do. BBQ-ists, alcoholics, anyone with something salty should fly to Iran and start shaking.

Even my purple pansies are upset about this thing in Iran. All twenty-two blossoms (tall as weeds!) are ready for a fight. Do you know anything about the way pansies fight? They are worse than screaming animals. Vindictive like a woman with the power of a man. And you know the pansy was probably right, every time, which makes them capable doing anything. Only one person walks away from those kinds of altercations, and barely. If cable TV ever staged a fight between pansies and anyone else, I’d buy five subscriptions. Riveting stuff.

My yellow celosia is armed, the marigold is spouting ten back-ups and the impatients are in a hurry to help out. The hydrangea is leaning left now, too, even though it was leaning right last week. The gladiolus plants are turning red with anger. The lettuce? That lettuce was packed the day after the Iranian election. Ahmadinejad doesn’t have the dressing it would take to hold down this salad.

I’ve got chicken wire and pliers and I'm mad as hell. Iran - me and the garden are behind you all the way. Get 'er done!

Helter Skelter – The Beatles

Babble On

2009-06-19T01:59:00.002-05:00

It’s a big world out there with all kinds of news, and maybe that’s why I turned on the radio in my car instead. With all of that noise surely I can find one thing that sounds good? Yes. I did. On the way to Costco.

-- -- --

I have this weird little system now, since my Dad died. He loved music and so I turn the radio on and ask my late father what he would like to hear. Maybe you have weird little systems, too. Last week I found Foggy Mountain Breakdown by Flatt and Scruggs on the radio – on the first try. Here’s the crazy part – he loved that song. A great day.

I was in my head pretty tight today, mostly because I was nurturing some worries. Do you ever get that way – when you think about something too much? Me too. When that happens and I can’t do something constructive, the best thing for me to do is drive. I hate driving, but I like it when it takes my mind off things. Stop signs and signal lights give me reason to stop thinking and follow orders. When I got into the car, I did my usual thing and asked Dad what to play. With that, I hit the scan button and a song was just starting. It’s a song I have loved forever. It had a new meaning for me today, because I’d like to believe that my father played it.

David Gray – Babylon

That’s all I have today. Thanks for reading.

The Digital Conversion From Hell

2009-06-18T01:17:00.008-05:00

Hello – my name is Mojopo and my own mother has been left TV-less since the digital conversion last Friday. Yes, we were aware of the switch a year ago (or more), and we all made sure Mom got a coupon for a converter box. She even has leftover coupons, but that’s not the point. The point is that Mom had a converter box well in advance and my nephew hooked it up. We had this crazy idea everything would work out eventually. FAIL.
-- -- --

My mother is only receiving Channel 23 out of Buffalo, which she tells me is chock full of garbage. They don’t have Regis and Kelly or her favorite weatherman, but they have lots of Tyra Banks. Oh, this is sad. She lost her husband of 59 years in March and now this.

Forget selling her on cable. While cable subscribers can receive a signal without a converter box, the only thing Mom remembers about cable TV is that the owner of Adelphia went to jail for ripping people off. Mom will not support the potential for criminal activity in her own home. Period. No cable. Ever.

“Hey Mom,” I said, “how about we all chip in and get you a new TV that can receive a digital signal?” She will not have it. “My TV is only 3 years old and it was on the ‘approved’ list. I don’t need a new TV!” When I pointed out that her TV is only enabling Tyra, she suggested that I come to visit and push her TV to the curb with the trash. “Might as well,” she said. So forlorn. “My antenna is fine, too. I hate this government.”

I’m going to spend some time talking to her local Radio Shack, to make sure everything is connected and programmed properly. This should be excruciating, since I will be inquiring from Chicago and not at my Mom’s house, or anywhere near her TV. If I don’t get this figured out, there is a potential for Mom to turn on the radio and hear Rush Limbaugh. I am terrified.

If anyone reading this blog has tips, suggestions and advice please tell me what to do about the converter box. I am actually begging. Others are encouraged to pray for us. If you will not pray, you are a part of the problem. Thank you and Amen.

Iran, I Ran So Far Away

2009-06-16T02:16:00.007-05:00

I was reading about Iran because mass protest fascinates me, as an American. The only thing we protest in my country is Oprah, when KFC cannot honor her free chicken coupons. What is happening in Iran probably has nothing to do with Oprah. She must feel relieved. Me? I’m envious as hell. Why can’t my country have the balls to take a baton to the face like everyone else? This is so unfair.

-- -- --

The Iranian election riots are attributed to the landslide victory in favor of Mahmoud Ahmanutjob over of the other guy, Mir-Hossein Obama. Iranians have taken to the streets to suffer beatings and death to protest what they believe is a stolen election.

In 2000, George Dubya Bush was ahead of Al Gore in the presidential election by only a whisper-thin rip-off count, and Americans let it go. Not even a landslide (like in Iran), and we just walked it off like some kind of cramp. This means that Americans are less than chumps – underchumps, actually. Anyone who gave a crap in 2000 (pebble sized) kept waiting for the system to right itself, oblivious to the fact that the system was up on blocks in someone’s backyard. Iranians are not waiting for new tires – they are driving on rims.

Americans who read the news about Iran are supportive, according to Twitter. I peeked at Twitter because all of the news stations keep mentioning how important Twitter is to the Iranian riots. ”Please don’t perform system maintenance tonight, Twitter – we need to have a 24-hour news IV, straight from Iran to our thirsty veins!” Twitter is the one-sentence voice from the front lines in real time. No Twitterectomy will help you now – the Pandora’s box is open.

Did you know that Hugo Chavez congratulated Ahmanutjob? Well, of course he did. It was a heartfelt exchange between two incompetent boobs with a yen for election thievery. I wish Dubya would chime in. Surely he must have something mangled to say about respecting the outcomes of elections?

A Flock Of Seagulls - I Ran

Mojopoll - Results and New Poll (Books I Want To Poop On)

2009-06-15T00:08:00.007-05:00

I asked Mojopost readers which judge they would pick for the Supreme Court if Sonia Sotomayor breaks another leg, and almost everyone chose The International Chili Society. According to you, people who can award blue ribbons to bowls of chili are just as capable of making decisions about gun control, abortion and stem cell research. And now you all understand how we roll in the US of A – on our stomachs.

-- -- --

One person chose Judge Taylor in the last Mojopoll. I know because I picked that one myself. “Who the heck is Judge Taylor – is he on Court TV or UPN?” someone asked. Hmmm. Well, I guess you all lied when you said you read To Kill A Mockingbird. Now does Judge Taylor ring a bell or wasn’t he mentioned in Cliff Notes?

You remind me of fellow I knew in college. He used to stock his Ikea bookshelves with all kinds of “important books” by “noted authors” he knew nothing about, and he thought women would find his bookshelves irresistible. It all fell apart one day when a girl asked him something about Camille Paglia’s menopause book.

Oh sure, I’ve posed as a fan of a book I never read. Sometimes it speeds up a conversation with a real boor. I did it at a dinner party once, when everyone was talking about “The Celestine Prophecy”, a book I would gladly load into a cannon and blow into a convenient landfill. If any book needs to be a garbage bomb, I’d have to say that “The Celestine Prophecy” is in my Top Five. I tried to finish that book, but it made me feel like I had to cut somebody. No, I didn't look back.

Here’s your task for today. Help me remember some of the worst books ever written. I’ve suggested five books I would poop on, listed at the poll on your right. I can add other books to the list if more than five people mention the same title. Hit me up. Which books would you most like to poop on?

Party At Planet Nutrition

2009-06-11T00:58:00.005-05:00

Hello, world! I am transmitting this message from a tropical beach on Planet Nutrition. Everyone reading Mojopost is invited! The escape hatch is at your fingertips.

If Debbie Downer squashed your Moon Pie on the bus ride over, don’t worry! Moon Pies grow on the tops of ponds on Planet Nutrition – like lily pads - and they are LOADED with fortifying vitamins, minerals and important fibers. YAY, WE LOVE FIBERS!

Here is the secret password. Don’t forget it. What you have to do is put your sloppy mouth in the crook of your elbow and blow as hard as you can. BRRFFFPPP! Ta-daah and welcome to Planet Nutrition! Holla back, earflinks!

Do you like to be tickled? You can get tickled pink, tickled silly and plum tickled in the Tickle Lounge. No appointment necessary.

Mr. Wobblyhands is working his magic in the Nutrition state of Refreshment. Everything you like is served there. All of it. Each. Don’t forget to toast your neighbors to receive a complimentary deli platter.

If you do any sightseeing at Nutrition, by all means DO visit the Rubber Canyon in North Funtime (right off I90). There’s Thorazine Mountain, Warm Blanket Falls and the Universe’s Biggest Swedish Fish. Ride the Jell-O-coaster as soon as possible. Smushing through the wall of flan at the end is my favorite part!

What are you waiting for?

Doodlin' Song - DooDooDoo

Ka-Ching: Patti Blagojevich Would Do Anything For Cash Money

2009-06-10T00:36:00.011-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, Mojopost thanks you for your patience. We’ve been experiencing technical difficulties so severe that Comcast has generously agreed to credit us for two days of service. Apparently, someone forgot to tell the Midwestern storms that I’ve got a blog to run. My goodness, I even missed Patti Blagojevich bawling her eyes out on I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here!

No, of course I don’t watch that show. Well, only when Blago’s wife is eating bait for money. Times are hard for the Blago family. Last year they were (expletive) golden. And now look at them! Patti B. is in the jungle and she gets paid per rat bite. Hard times for sure! Hee hee hee…

While I’m thinking of I’m A Celebrity… can anyone explain to me how and why Spencer and Heidi Pratt (aka Speidi) became famous? Her voice reminds me of food processor full of whistles (fun story for another day). And him? Spencer Pratt is merely pebble in my bowl. I will flush him later when something more important happens or company comes by. I hope Patti B. eats Speidi when she runs out of rice and beans.

Poor Patti B. She has been so careful to avoid swearing and has not bribed any of her fellow contestants with the promise of a seat in the Illinois senate. I find myself liking her almost, because she has the doofiest bathing suit. It takes guts to go on live TV in that get-up with a mouthful of tarantula. Although I should note that Patti B.’s fellow contestant is Janice Dickinson, an aging psycho/supermodel, who keeps stealing everyone’s combs and underwear for her own use. Next to Janice, that guy on the El with Tourette's syndrome is going to seem quaint. Patti B. needs a better yardstick than Janice Dickinson to measure social acceptance.

Blagojevich eats a spider in reality debut

Brain Monster Warning

2009-06-08T00:09:00.003-05:00

Ooops! Someone let the Brain Monster out of the holding pen, and it's demanding eight full hours of sleep. Must comply.... More later.

Obama's Cairo Speech

2009-06-05T02:26:00.007-05:00

Pres. Obama delivered a speech in Cairo June 4th about “new beginnings” regarding US relations with the Muslim world. Yesterday also marked the 20th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Massacre. I cannot think of a better day than yesterday to highlight the importance of diplomacy.

Twenty years ago, the Chinese government murdered demonstrators in Tiananmen Square because they had the audacity to petition for democratic and economic reform. After the massacre, the government banned all foreign reporters from the country and arrested anyone who might have been tainted by dissent. What happened in Tiananmen Square reminds the world that freedom of speech costs more than anyone should have to pay.

-- -- --

There are countless special interests groups across the globe that would not benefit from peace in the Middle East. Pres. Obama challenged us to work against those divisive factions. We could coexist in conflict, which has been an abysmal failure, or we can work together against the things that have pulled us apart. This is how progress is made – to try something else when all previous efforts have failed.

I regret that the men and women who died in Tiananmen Square are not here with us. They may have appreciated Pres. Obama’s speech, especially this part:

“I have an unyielding belief that all people yearn for certain things: the ability to speak your mind and have a say in how you are governed, confidence in the rule of law and the equal administration of justice, government that is transparent and doesn't steal from the people, the freedom to live as you choose. These are not just American ideas. They are human rights. And that is why we will support them everywhere.”

Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un

2009-06-04T01:30:00.007-05:00

North Korean leader, Kim Jong-il, has chosen his son, Kim Jong-un, to be his successor. Find out what your neighbors are saying!

-- -- --

Gretchen Fabres-Olson
Lickety Split Liquors, Owner
Are you serious – Kim Jong-un? The youngest? Now I know why he hasn’t been in here in a while. I thought he was in AA or something. He used to come by once or twice a week for Jägermeister and a box of Slim Jims. My friend Juanita used to do his perms, but she had to let him go when he got all handy with the shampoo girl one day and made her cry. Juanita said he only tipped her two dollars. Hello? Two dollars! What is she supposed to do with two dollars?

Marshall Farina
Surveyor, Retired
Something is not right about that family. Jong-un came by trick-or-treating last Halloween. He was 24 years old then! He was wearing a really awful, last minute hobo costume. There he was, knocking on my door with a dirty face, like it was supposed to be a beard, and a can of beans tied on the end of a stick… No imagination what so ever. But worse, he’s a grown-up! I mean, he’s short and he could almost get away with it. Almost but no. He made his sister carry his candy bag, too. Pathetic. I would have punched him in the balls but I thought he would slash my tires or something. North Korea is screwed, man. All of Kim Jong’s kids are total whackos.

Stuart Olson
Unemployed
Dude, we play WOW all the frigging time. That’s World of Warcraft for the newbies. Mostly, we play at his house. He’s got, like, six different Alienware lappies and we nailed all the cheats. Good times. I’m going to be his Defense Minister.

So-Called Pro-Life

2009-06-03T01:48:00.003-05:00

I was distracted by Dr. George Tiller’s eyeglasses when I saw his video clips on the news, after an anti-abortion zealot in Wichita gunned him down. Coke-bottle glasses, I think they’re called. As thick as the glass in any major aquarium.

It occurred to me that a man with poor vision would learn to use his other senses, as a way to compensate for his failing eyesight. Aural perception would self-correct to enhance sound, and the capacity to listen would become a vital necessity. Our ability to hear is the last sense to go, and is perhaps one of our strongest physiological allies. I have no doubt that Dr. Tiller learned how to distinguish noise from information in his daily life.

Dr. Tiller provided abortions - late-term abortions - to women who needed them. I have never needed one, and I don’t know why Dr. Tiller’s patients needed late-term abortions because it is none of my business. What I know is that Dr. Tiller performed a lawful procedure that often saves lives. For this a madman who, ironically enough, claimed to be “pro-life” shot him to death.

The pro-life movement in the US has a history of providing safe haven to violent extremists for years. While these personality types are not a rule within the pro-life movement, they are no exception. When the pro-life movement condemns the acts of brutal activists within their group, they do so with fingers crossed behind their backs. They forget that God is watching them, too.

Nigerian Widow Has A Unique Business Proposal

2009-06-01T01:14:00.010-05:00

Sender: mojo_po@yahoo.com
Subject: Business Opportunity

My name is Mojopo, widow of the late head of state, Mr. Mojopo. After he mysteriously died as a result of cardiac arrest during our afternoon expression of martial love (which we had enjoyed many times before without tragic surprise), our lawyer, Joel Lowenstein, informed me that my husband (who at the time was president of Nigeria), called him last week and showed him five metal boxes containing foreign currency. Mr. Lowenstein is under the distinct impression that those boxes are for FedEx, to be sent to my late husband’s business partner for investment purposes. Probably something to benefit blind and crippled orphans.

Since my husband’s death, the Nigerian government has frozen our bank accounts and stole our cars! I can’t buy anything or go anywhere. I have to borrow cans of tuna fish from my neighbors just to have something in my stomach when I go hitchhiking to the dialysis clinic. Sometimes the Nigerians come by late at night to molest my animals, too, but they always listen to all of my phone calls. I know because I can hear one of the wiretappers watching Susan Boyle on YouTube and crying. What do they want? They want my late husband’s metal boxes full of money. We are worth at least $120,000,000,000,000, and now you understand why they are sodomizing my Portuguese Water Dog, Mojobo, to find the location of the foreign currency.

I am asking you in a very sincere manner for your help, as a responsible woman worth more money than God has to spend. I trust you because I Googled your name and read all of your comments on the tech support forum for plus-sized women’s apparel. You seem like a good person who will not sit on a profitable business opportunity!

Psst – come closer. I am going to whisper:

I have managed to get the five metal boxes out of Nigeria by stowing them in Mr. Lowenstein’s generous rear end. I pray, on my knees, that a good person such as yourself will help me transfer this money out of Mr. Lowenstein and into your country. Each of these boxes is full of cold hard cash worth a bazillion dollars each. If you can get this money transferred, I’ll share of a percentage of the wealth with you. On the real.

Please contact me confidentially through this website to assist my family.

Thanks, and warmest regards.

Yours Truly,
Mojopo

Neighbors and Potential Felons In Chicago

2009-05-29T01:47:00.006-05:00

Statewide corruption in Chicago is the glue that holds our city together. For instance, another alderman was indicted for corruption on Thursday. Republicans and Democrats alike can enjoy talking about this together. As a people, Chicagoans can connect to each other by sharing our outrage and embarrassment every time another pol gets popped. It doesn’t matter what color you are, if you believe in God or not, or where anyone went to school. For as long as we have potential felons in power, everyone in Chicago is a good neighbor.

I don’t know if Illinois is number one in corruption. It probably is not because someone got paid to fix the statistics. No, really.

Chicago has some former governors who left office in disgrace. There are lines out the door full of indicted alderman. We have a senator that was appointed to the job by one of the bastardly governors – the one with helmet hair. We have everything anyone could want, if you partake of schadenfreude.

Nepotism schmepotism. Monarchy schmonarchy! We have a city council president who literally inherited the job after the predecessor, his father, died. The mayor is the son of a former mayor, and the attorney general is the daughter of the Speaker of the Illinois House of Representatives. If you are related to anyone in government in IL and you operate on a cash-only basis, you probably work at our capital in Springfield already. Now that you know this, the state of IL would kindly ask other states in the union to stop blaming the voters. Thank you much.

My dear Chicago neighbors, I worry for us. What will become of our relationship if we can ever get the smallest whisper of a reform bill passed? Will you still talk to me from your balcony, when all we have left in common is the weather? It’s not like those people in government will acquire a moral compass in our lifetimes, but I wonder.

"Bueller, Bueller" (of the Chicago Bueller’s)

Bush-Gore Lawyers Want Gay Marriage

2009-05-28T02:54:00.007-05:00

Sparks were flying when Ted Olson and David Boies met in Florida, back in 2000. Ted was the lead attorney for George Bush and David was the top legal strategist for Al Gore. In a bid to retrieve their souls from the Devil for their part in that nightmare, Ted and David have activated their Wonder Twin powers to fight for marriage equality in the US.

“We are two lawyers from opposite ends of the political spectrum who have come together to support one of the most important issues of our time," Olson told reporters. "This is not about liberal or conservative, Democrat or Republican. We're here in part to symbolize that," he added.

Ted freakin’ Olson, the guy who swung it over the fence for Dubya, also said:

"We're going to court because people shouldn't have to surrender their fundamental rights to a popular plebiscite. People should not have to beg to be treated equally or wait for decades for popular approval to be treated equally."

Ted and David are going federal with the gay marriage debate. Forget that silly state-by-state nonsense – these guys are blue skying the big picture all the way to DC. Break out your Constitutional amendments and good books, children, and don’t forget to set the DVR. Just in time for Pride season, too. Love. It.

Bravo, gentlemen!

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Sonia Sotomayor For SCOTUS

2009-05-27T02:03:00.012-05:00

Sonia Sotomayor is bringing sexy back to the Supreme Court of The United States. SCOTUS nominee Sonia From The Block has dusted J-Lo in the battle for The Most Important Latina From The Bronx Ever. Viva Boricua!

In her speech with Pres. Obama yesterday Sotomayor thanked her mother, which is the most efficient path between two points (Latin Americans and Southern people). In the US, being a mother-lover goes a long way. It’s true! Even the cable newsies cut out most of Sotomayor’s presser for their sound bites, as if to bring us a modern day pieta via the 1/9 train from Netherland Ave. and 5,000th St.

-- -- --

Tone deaf Republicans, eyes watering with the scent of bullshit and painted flat white, are working overtime to cast Sotomayor as an angry maid who used Affirmative Action to steal jobs away from conservative judges. Absolutely no one was surprised by their latest effort to shoot themselves in the face on a national stage. I think they’re just jealous because they didn’t find Sotomayor and her mother first. In a parallel universe the Repubs could have had her at hola, because Sotomayor is no liberal. Not now anyway.

It’s hard to tell with these SCOTUS judges. One minute they are Bush-approved conservatives, like David Souter, and the next minute they’re up Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s robe, smoking pot and eating Tofutti. As far as I can tell Sotomayor goes both ways, but that still makes her a lib by default. If her mother doesn’t care, why should you?

Don't forget to vote for your favorite alternative SCOTUS judges, on the right!

MOJOPOST WEEKLY UPDATE

2009-05-26T01:02:00.012-05:00

MISSING LINK FOUND!
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! You came from a monkey, and you smell like one too! You can call her Ida, if you're nasty.

BIG FAKE-OUT HEADLINE OF THE WEEK
“UN Blasts North Korea”
Lil Kim Jong-il busted nuclear caps underground and now the diplomats are going buck-wild cray-zay. But they did NOT nuke him back!

MOM SAYS:
“There was an EARTHQUAKE near Niagara Falls! I was in my garden when it happened but I did not feel a thing. I wish I did. It sounds exciting.”

BOOK REVIEW BY MY FRIEND BARBARA
“Oh! You must read ‘Dear Husband’ by Joyce Carol Oates.” The essays have open endings, she said, and it will keep you awake for hours.

HEALTH NEWS:
I broke my rear bowling. At some point between stepping forward and letting go of the 50 lb. mass in my hand, a tragic, gripping pain occurred in the vicinity of my left butt cheek (go large!). Tuesday’s checklist: Find someone to fix my ass!

BILL HILTS FISH LOCATOR

“Capt. Bob Cinelli sends word that there has been some very good fishing in 60 to 250 feet of water out in front of Olcott Beach from the surface down to 130 feet down using a variety of techniques. Spoons or Spin Doctors and flies are the way to go.”

Dick Cheney's Tell-Tale Heart

2009-05-22T00:57:00.012-05:00

I will discourage wagering among the ghouls, but I’m telling you that Dick Cheney looks like he’s about to croak. Have you seen his pressers lately? Between sentences he is laboring for breath and interrupting himself to partake of coughing jags. This world tour of his to promote waterboarding isn’t about national security – this is about Dick doing damage control immediately, to keep Dubya from blaming him for everything when he’s dead.

David Letterman seems to be thinking the same thing. Here’s a clip of Dave riffing on Dick’s labored breathing.

Ok, but in all seriousness? I listened to about nine minutes of his speech on May 21st. Between every sentence Dick is reaching hard for air. Clearing his throat. Coughing now and then. I thought about his health history and his notoriously bad heart.

Dick has been very outspoken against the Obama administration in the past few months. It used to be that members of a former presidential administration reserved their criticism of new presidents in books published a few years after leaving office. Not Dick – he has been extremely visible on news programs, to the point of becoming redundant.

In all of Dick appearances of late, he has sneeringly defended his point of view on torture and warns us about unknown, invisible evildoers, while implying that Obama isn’t man enough to handle them. Dick’s daughter, Liz, has jumped into the fray, accusing Pres. Obama of siding with terrorists. These commentaries have had a sense of urgency about them, mixed with righteous indignation.

When I hear Dick speak, I wonder how he would sound if he replaced the words “terrorist” and “enemies” with “heart disease” and “respiratory failure”. Is Dick’s struggle against terrorism and defense of torture symbolic of his failing health and the lengths he will go to for more time? I think so. I know what a man sounds like when his pulmonary system has betrayed him. I lost my father to COPD a few months ago, and perhaps I am reading too much into things. My Dad wanted more life and every detail seemed urgent to him. Sometimes he was arrogant about it. Time will tell if I am right or wrong about Dick, but he is certainly behaving like a man at the end of his world.

This is the last paragraph, where I should sew up the hem and offer goodwill to the Cheney family as a woman who had a very sick father, too, but I won’t. The only thing I can offer to the Cheney’s in the way of advice is to step away from the heat when the former Bush administration (and the Republican party) burns their father’s legacy in effigy to save their own hide. You ain’t seen the meaning the meaning of the word ugly yet.

U2 – Until The End Of The World

Redneck News

2009-05-20T00:24:00.004-05:00

I have no idea how to explain this video. Mature language warning (NSFW!).

Blackhawks v. Red Wings and Why You Should Care

2009-05-19T00:46:00.007-05:00

Booga booga booga. This is the sound we make when the opposing team is dangerously close to scoring a goal. Say it all together, fast. “Boogaboogabooga.” What you are hearing is the sound of ancient voodoo incantations. It’s hockey night in Chicago and I’ve got a Zamboni full of boogas to help our Blackhawks triumph against the Detroit Red Wings.

-- -- --

Here’s the situ: The Detroit Red Wings, a hockey team comprised of communist-jihadists, need to go down in smoking flames. Nothing personal, but those old-ish men with few teeth have been rubbing their nether regions on the coveted Stanley Cup and leaving a stain! It is time to stage an intervention with their case worker. Further, the local currency in Detroit is sopping with bailout sweat-money stolen from downtrodden working men and women. Have they no decency?

The Chicago Blackhawks are a young, earnest team that never got a favor from anyone. They went to bed hungry plenty of times, but they refused to give up and go back to Thunder Bay. These skillful, well-mannered Canadian kids are doing everything in their power to make Chicago’s United States a better place for hockey and humanity. We should encourage them at every opportunity. If the Blackhawks fail, America fails, too.

If you cannot booga with me at least give us the chance to find common ground. Ask yourself this: Do you love a comeback story or not?

We have the power to booga. Pick the booga.

Robert Johnson - Sweet Home Chicago

Ruby's 75th

2009-05-18T02:45:00.013-05:00

My mother said she didn’t want anyone to make a fuss about her 75th birthday. Dad died two months ago and she isn’t ready to get her party on, as I am sure you can understand. But I am telling everyone I know about her birthday because I want to celebrate her life, especially now. Mom has no computer and she is very skeptical about this Internet thing, but if you post her a message I’m going to make sure it gets printed and hand delivered to her door.

Many of you reading this blog have never met my Mom. Such a shame! She would make you a pie if you asked her to, and everyone should know at least one really good pie maker. Friends, family, people she just met – it doesn’t matter - Mom loves to make pies for anyone who can eat them. Giving things away is one of the most funnest things a person can do. That's why I write almost every day.

You should know that my mother prefers to make quilts more than pies. She finds a design that she likes and asks me to draw it as a pattern on a piece of cardboard scrounged from a shoe box. Then she goes buck-wild with a sewing needle and scissors during Entertainment Tonight. Her quilts are brilliant pieces of work, and not for sale. You need to be loved by her to get a quilt. Mom likes almost everybody, but she loves only a few.

Happy 75th birthday, Ma, from the last of six.

Rachel Alexandra Runs Like A Girl: Preakness 2009

2009-05-17T03:14:00.011-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, it was a fine day to run like a girl at the Preakness Stakes on Saturday. Rachel Alexandra, a filly, made quick work for a day’s pay and landed in first place.

-- -- --

Rachel Alexandra started in the #13 position this Preakness, a spot where no other horse has managed win, and it’s been 85 years since a woman showed 'em how it’s done in Maryland.

NBC sportscaster Bob Costas spoke with Rachel’s jockey, Calvin Borel. “Have you ever had to ask her for all she’s got?” Costas asked. “No sah. It’d be scary,” said the bobble-eyed Cajun. “She’s a freak.”

Calvin Borel must like it freaky because he ditched riding Mine That Bird, the horse he rode to win in the 2009 Kentucky Derby, for Rachel Alexandra. His choice was flat-out unprecedented and oh-so gossip worthy in horse racing news this past week. More than one person has screwed up their face and made cuckoo noises when Calvin’s name was mentioned, and every one of them wore Rachel’s dirt at the finish. This filly has exclamation points in her blood! The boys chased Rachel’s tail from one side of the track to the other, but Daddy Calvin would have none of it. His girl is going to get married in a white dress, and that is that.

Rachel’s owner is a bazillionaire named Jess Jackson, of Kendall-Jackson wine fame. Mr. Jackson carries himself like a storybook bazillionaire racing fan, in that he actually gives a good goddamn about horses and people. This win could not happen to a nicer guy, so I have been told. I believe it. A fellow who would dare to run a filly with the big boys in a race like this must believe in something better than money and the ways of men.

Rachel Alexandra –2009 Preakness Stakes

Free Viagra!

2009-05-15T00:32:00.007-05:00

Are you a guy without a job? Have you lost the pep in your step because you can’t afford a Viagra pill? Welcome to your lucky day – Pfizer, Inc. is going to hand out Viagra like it’s Halloween candy to poor, disheveled impotent men.

Here’s the link, and a blurb:

Applicants will have to sign a statement that they are suffering financial hardship and provide a "pink slip" or similar employer notice. Applications will be accepted through Dec. 31, with medication provided for up to 12 months after approval — or until the person becomes insured again.

Can’t buy your date dinner first? So what! With your interesting personality and positive attitude, what could possibly go wrong besides an unplanned pregnancy, an erection that lasts longer than a day or a massive heart attack?

The wimmins won't mind!

Not to be outdone, I called Tampax and Playtex to find out of they had any plans to foster brand loyalty with the bleeding, female and unemployed demographic. Both companies had no comment.

Mojopost will not encourage women to sign up for the Viagra offer and sell it at street value, in order to buy a product that keeps their couches from looking like a crime scene. No.

Did I mention that Pfizer is giving away Lipitor, too?

Marvin Gaye – Let’s Get It On

The Wrath Of Wanda

2009-05-14T02:45:00.009-05:00

The media would not hesitate to bend your poop out of shape over Swine Flu, and when a comedian makes a joke about a fat-faced loudmouth on AM radio all day they act as if John Wayne Gacy blew up Columbine.

I am referring to Wanda Sykes performance at the White House Correspondents Dinner last Saturday. She said, “Rush Limbaugh said he hopes this administration fails. I hope his kidneys fail, how about that?” I think that sounds awesome! Thanks for asking.

“She went too far,” cried the bullies from their 24-hour pulpits. “Terribly inappropriate,” said the Republican torture-apologists. Oh really? Personally, I don’t think comedy can go far enough to emphasize how much dialysis Rush Limbaugh is going to need to pump all that hillbilly heroin out of his system. I hope his kidneys fail like I wish for a white Christmas every December.

Further:

Dick Cheney should be enema-boarded. It’s like water boarding, but lower. Enema-board him least 183 times, or until he finally confesses that he wants to gay marry Khalid Sheik Mohammed.

And you know what else?

If I find myself sick with cancer, I’m going to write a tell-all book before I die about John Edwards’s philandering penis. His wife is making a fortune off it – why can’t I?

“Facing life’s challenges is about courage. My husband John Edwards is absolutely ignorant about courage because of his small penis, and the way it compels him to have extra-marital affairs with ugly bags while I am having chemotherapy [cough cough].”

Whatever!

Congratulations to Wanda and her wife on the new twins!

The Smiths - Big Mouth Strikes Again

The Haunted Bulbs

2009-05-12T02:26:00.007-05:00

I’m waiting to find out if I have built a floral Auschwitz, a place where plants come to suffer and die. Contrast this horror against my inner optimist, the one who wants to be able to give tomatoes away because – oh look – I’ve accidentally grown too many! This balcony garden of mine is full of pathos and internal dialogue. Hieronymus Bosch should be so lucky.

I planted the impatients (hurry up!) in a box on the railing. The tomatoes plants are staked and ready for replanting into this thing (if it ever arrives in the mail), and the cucumber seeds are nestled into starter trays. If the cukes find it in their heart to grow just a little, I’m going to put them in my Topsy Turvy collection.

Of course I planted snapdragons! I love smushing the flowers in my fingers and making a “rwaaaarrr” noise. Those are in a box with something yellow and bushy at the top. No idea what it is but it looked like a fighter I want to know. The geranium is potted alone, as are the pansies, marigolds, miniature roses and cilantro. I might also have cat grass at some point in the next few weeks, but I still have no idea where to put the bastard-child lavender. I'm working on making it feel more at home.

Yes, I did plant lettuce – thanks for asking. It’s called “Gourmet Mix”. There is a special bottle of salad dressing from back home set aside for this lettuce if it chooses to apply itself. I can only encourage it. If I berate the lettuce it’s only going to act out.

Last but not least, I planted eight dwarf gladiolus bulbs in two green pots. This could be a real disaster and I can’t wait! These are some of the bulbs that were sent to my father. They arrived by mail two weeks after Dad died. He placed a $40 order for bulbs last October, because he did not have pneumonia then. The gladiolas could be red when they grow up, so I have read. It could be months before we know more.

If you happen to walk by my condo, you can see me on the fourth floor. I’m wearing cotton gloves printed with a tomato design, blown-out sweatpants and dirt. It’s probably not a good idea to come up. I smell like ass and Miracle-Grow.

When I was small and not as good at complaining as I am now, I told my father that normal people do not grow things, they buy things. He made me work on the garden anyway, and that was my fate until I became an adult with a debit card and big ideas about the produce section of a grocery store. My how things have changed.

Happy Monday, You Big Silly

2009-05-11T00:40:00.003-05:00

Hello, and welcome to Monday! Good morning to you-oo, good morning to you-ooo-ooo, good morning, good morning, GOOD MORNING to you-ooo-oooo (and many morrrre!).

Wish I could say more but all of this talking with my Mom stuff, balcony gardening and eating steak has wiped me out. Wherever you are, in a prison jumpsuit or a foreign country, please have a happy day!!!!

G-Nome Paradoxus Mystifies TV Land

2009-05-08T01:44:00.005-05:00

According to Mojopost apparatchik, Anony Tu, hidden episodes of M*A*S*H can be viewed while watching local TV commercials backwards. I spent the evening researching this theory (called G-Nome Paradoxus) and can easily confirm the validity of his or her report. However, GNP is not strictly delegated to M*A*S*H reruns. A Petri dish full of nanobots working at my Southside rocket lab found clips from Quincy and Divorce Court on public access programs, too. Public access TV is literally swarming with backward paradoxes.

Remember to tilt your head and look:

It’s uncanny, isn’t it?

Scrotch and Combos Alert: Anony and I will be on C-SPAN tomorrow, testifying before Congress about GNP. Don’t forget to set the DVR! Pull up a recliner – enjoy your snack and beverage.

Thank you, Dr. B. Pony at Classical Gas Emissions for the video. This site has been added to the Best Links section, where it will be given an education, clothes and nourishing meals for less than .33 cents a day.

We Got Scooters! - Local Commercial Outtakes

2009-05-07T16:20:00.001-05:00

If It Is Not On The Fridge, It Is Not Important

2009-05-07T00:17:00.011-05:00

I’ve been trying to find "something good" to put on my fridge, because this phrase alone racks up 223,000,000 Google hits. With more than two hundred million pieces of evidence on hand for something good, as compared to 117,000,000 “something bad” links, odds are in my favor that I can hit pay dirt.

-- -- --

There is absolutely no question that I started out looking for good somethings because I was feeling bad and needed an attractive mental escape hatch. Did you know that every dark tunnel has a few skylights, so that we can stop and recharge before we keep walking towards the light at the end? Without those, every day would feel like a drive through Ohio.

As I get older it seems like the tunnel exit sign is always further away than what I remember, and I wish that I had worn better shoes. Does that ever happen to you?

I still haven’t found anything to tack onto the fridge. Which is a shame because I located a spare magnet under the fridge when I was vacuuming. Next to the dry erase board and photographs of my family, I have a place for something good. Perhaps it will turn up soon.

High-Fructose Corn Syrup Spoof

2009-05-06T13:36:00.000-05:00

Olcott Beach Update

2009-05-05T01:00:00.007-05:00

Tired of Milan? Sick of DC? Mojopost can provide you with the latest news about Olcott Beach, NY, from her Mom and other noted sources.

Playground Flasher Nabbed!
Local pedo finally busted, ending two months of terror at local playgrounds.

Coyote Update
Displaced coyotes continue to bite the living crap out of slow-moving victims.

Mom Said
Stupid bird builds a nest on widow’s porch light. “You should see the mess,” Mom said. “Mud, string, straw, condom wrappers… I’m going to get up at 3:00 in the morning and turn on the porch lights, and I will burn their bottoms!” You go, girl. Don’t take that nonsense sitting down!

Bill Hilt’s Weekly Fish Locator
“Kyle Stabler of Sanborn caught a 32 pound carp this week while he was fishing Olcott Harbor for perch. He was using minnows for his impressive catch. While there aren’t as many steelhead in the 18 Mile Creek system, some of the warm water fish species have started to turn on.”

Weather – Looks just about right.

Dining – Bye’s Popcorn is open for business! OMFG!

If you have news about Olcott Beach, please contact Mojopost. Right now! Thank you much.

Human Toileting

2009-05-04T00:51:00.012-05:00

No, Michael, I was not aware that human toileters were suffering in the Third World. When you sent me that note about modern-day slave labor it was the first time I’ve ever heard about human toileters. I could see something like this happening in Germany, though.

Michael, this has to be stopped immediately. I don’t care what I have to sign, I’ll do anything to make human toileting stop! Every time a human is used as a toilet a part of me dies! WHAT CAN I DO TO WIPE OUT HUMAN TOILETING?

I was angry but I caught myself. As I was about to head out the door and demonstrate, I realized that I’m not going to help anyone by dressing as a toilet and sitting on Michigan Avenue. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it is that performance art sucks a bag of dicks and nobody gets it. People like the Internet! Everybody gets that (except for my mother). Count me in for any (and all!) on-line polls.

I'll be all around in the dark. I'll be everywhere – at all hours of the night. Wherever there's a flame war, I'll be there. Wherever there's a forum moderator beating up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way people Tweet when they're mad. And when the people are sitting on their own john, because they won’t be human toileters anymore, I’ll be there in spirit.

Light a candle for them, won’t you?

Bishop Paul Morten & the Greater St. Stephens Choir - We Shall Overcome (rawks!)

Kentucky Derby 135

2009-05-02T03:34:00.008-05:00

Dear Sally:

Today is going to be my first Kentucky Derby without my father. When the race is over, I won’t have anyone to call who can spit and cuss like my father used to. Please call me today and swear as if your life depended on it. If you can fake an elderly man’s voice with a North Carolina accent, I would be touched.

I send my best to the Kentucky Derby favorite, I Want Revenge. The name is an awful lot of Karma to put on one animal, but he’s built for speed and those Bloomberg people love him. (UPDATE 11:00 AM - Revenge has been scratched! Karma, baby, karma...)

Mojopo's Derby Pick: General Quarters - Hands down, General Quarters is my sentimental favorite. His owner and groomer is Tom McCarthy, a really old guy who has one horse in the whole world. Tom has never been to Churchill Downs before.

Look For: Dunkirk - This Dunkirk kid is gorgeous! His jockey is Edgar Prado, the man who took Barbaro has far as he could go. Prado knows a thing or two about the other side of winning. Dunkirk is in good hands.

Hat Tip To: Hold Me Back - Jockey Kent Desormeaux pulled up the reigns on Big Brown during the Belmont Stakes in 2008, to keep Brownie from injuring himself. The guy who held Big Brown back is running a horse named Hold Me Back? Get out! I love it.

Don’t Forget: Friesian Fire - Friesian Fire has had weeks to think about his last race. He’s either coiled up like an industrial spring and ready to blast, or he’s thinking about the girl he left in the pasture.

Review: Dino’s Pizzeria Is From Hell

2009-05-02T00:36:00.006-05:00

For the first time in my whole life I've had to throw away a pizza. I still can't explain it (maybe you can) but Dino’s pizza crust had MOLD. OMFG!

I noticed that something tasted funny about the pizza I ordered, so I took a closer look at the crust and there it was - raw penicillin! Do they pre-bake their crusts and store them in a wet cave? If you're curious to know, mold on pizza tastes like soap and gasoline. Swear to God.

I ordered garden salads with the pizza. The salads were gritty, and after I took a bite of the pizza it seemed wise to take a closer look at the lettuce. Guess what I found? SAND and FLIES, as far as the eyes could see! FLIES! There were more insects in the salads than croutons! If the chef considered those salads washed, I’d hate to see his fingernails. I should have ordered a farted-on booger pizza from Domino’s and called it a night, but NOoooOOO!

Dino, if you are reading this I am telling you right now that I am the one who ratted you out on Google, Yelp, Menuism and Metromix. I hope a Dutch motorcade runs you over.

Souter Buzz

2009-05-01T00:48:00.006-05:00

Supreme Court Justice David Souter is retiring. Find out what his neighbors are saying.

--- --- ---

Eric Schulman: Dave’s retiring? Oh wow, I’m so happy for him. We started working together around the same time. When he lived on Elmwood I was living on Peachtree, so we used to carpool. He was thinking about quitting when the Gore v. Bush thing came up, because we both knew Bush was a retarded moron. But I told him to hang in there. Why would you dump your pension for Bush? That’s crazy talk.

Kaneasha de Palo: Oh my Lord – is he OK? I just saw him last week at the Town Hall. He was paying his water bill. I thought he looked fine! I don’t think he has any kids to look out for him, either. David never got married. Some people in the neighborhood talk about that, but I never paid attention. His lawn was always so pleasant to look at, you know? And he’s very well groomed. Naturally, people made assumptions. Not me. I think he’s a very nice man and I hope he enjoys his retirement.

Pat Corker: You know what this means, right? President Muslim is going to hit the Hopium pipe and pick a new judge. I can see the ad on Craigslist now. “Wanted: Trans-gendered abortionist with a law degree to clean out my unicorn’s stable.” This country is going to hell.

Swine Flu FAQ

2009-04-30T00:40:00.005-05:00

What is Swine Flu?
Swine Flu is a pandemic that has infected cable news programs. You might be next.

What happens if I try not to think about Swine Flu?
Your brain will think about it every half second in presentation format (including graphics, pie charts, general statistics and a motivational message at the end).

What are the symptoms?
First, Sanjay Gupta will report LIVE from Mexico, sporting bugged out eyes and thin film of sweat. Next thing you know, you’re going to wonder if your seasonal allergies are a clever disguise for a sinister pig virus.

How many times can one person contract Swine Flu?
If you’re looking for a topical excuse to get out of work, I strongly recommend that you exercise the Swine Flu option one time only. However, if you actually get sick from Swine Flu later on you are going to look like the biggest lie-bag in the whole world.

Self-indulgent societies are being held hostage by a swine-to-human virus. Should I meditate on irony or gluttony?
Alanis, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times! It’s a PARADOX!

Alanis Morissette – Ironic (multiple personality disorder version)

Black Woman Struggles To Make Ends Meet

2009-04-29T01:46:00.006-05:00

Like many Americans, First Lady Michelle Obama has taken on extra responsibilities to help her family. When her almost-bankrupted employer, the United States of America, was forced to downsize Mrs. Obama’s position was nearly outsourced to a corporation based in China. Rather than watch another American job go overseas, President Barack Obama has found a way to keep his wife in D.C. while maximizing her functionality.

In the past, first ladies were utilized as a social networking application. They were expected to:

Decorate the president’s arm.

Sit through lectures at elementary schools.

Develop exciting drinking habits.

Michelle Obama will continue to provide those resources, but her role as expanded to include lawn maintenance.

Mrs. Obama will also serve as the First Lunch Lady at the White House cafeteria.

Additionally, Mrs. Obama will provide pooper-scooping services to the First Dog, Bo Obama.

In a show of support, French First Lady Carla Bruni has taken on the job of receptionist at Elysée Palace in Paris.

Jitterbug In Olcott Beach

2009-04-28T01:08:00.007-05:00

For the first time in the history of ever Mojopost is featuring a guest blog by Jane Craptable, a 13 year-old pancake magnate and writer from Olcott Beach, NY. Business minded readers may be more familiar with Jane’s accomplishments as CEO of Dee Dah Dee De Dee Pancakes! (sing the name out loud, it’s more fun that way). Congratulations, Jane, for making it through my extensive vetting process. Welcome!

Jane would like to introduce you to her neighbors. SPOILER ALERT: Jitterbug IS his real name.

-- -- --

As you may or may not know, I am Mojopo’s niece from the ever so famous Olcott Beach. Aunt Mojo sent me a blog idea and I was thrilled! She wanted me to explain to you what kind of folks we have up here.

First of all, there is a man in Olcott Beach named Jitterbug. He has been alive longer then anyone else I know. The only thing keeping him alive is the toxic Olcott fish he eats, and all the alcohol he drinks.

Jitterbug is African American. Whenever I whine about school he starts up with the "back in the day I wasn't allowed to go to school cuz I'm black" thing. I wonder if he hates some white people.

Do you want to know what Jitterbug looks like? He's about 6'5” but he's all hunched over with a cane. His face is fun because it always looks like he’s saying “ya know?” and talks like he's drunk, even when he is sober.

Jitterbug loves to hand out money. One time I hurt my arm and he handed me his wallet saying "You’re gonna have to pay the hospital bills!" Of course I did not take his money! You wanna know where Jitterbug is right now? In the hospital bleeding out of his anus from his drinking! He's gonna need surgery before he’s all right. I hope he remembered his wallet.

Next, I better tell you about some other crazy neighbors we have. Like Scooter Kid! The Scooter Kid is about 20 and he rides this scooter all the time – even to get his mail or when he delivers pizza! It drives the entire neighborhood nuts! He built that piece of trash himself and now he is in love with it.

Something else you should know is that the local school has just fired another pedo. Yup, just this week we had a teacher charged with "sexting", 2 or 3 counts of 3rd degree sexual abuse and stuff. Do I need to carry pepper spray to school now?

Olcott Beach has all kinds of people - gossips, old ladies and we even have couples that get drunk and break windows. There is a woman down the street who picks through our garbage, too. A few months back, a little boy tried to steal a gold fish out of the pond in our front yard. My mother told him she was going to call the police. I think she scared the pee out of him! Where do I fit into this place? I fit because I am weird, too, and I like that very much.

I bet I convinced everyone reading this to take a trip to Olcott Beach! I am sure they would have some fun! Jitterbug might be out of the hospital by then.

Ok, love you! Bye! xoxoxoxox

The Back Forty Of My Youth

2009-04-27T02:14:00.006-05:00

When I was a child growing up in Darfur, my parents forced me to labor in their fields. Every morning Mom packed me a can of tears for lunch before I left to plow the back forty. When she forgot my can opener, I was forced to eat my right leg for nourishment. If I returned for dinner late, or if the oxen had eaten the sacks of weevils I collected for our meal, I was made to sleep on a pile of bones that belonged to the children who came before me. I learned at a young age that gardens were the playgrounds of sadists.

“Why can’t I just spend the summer watching Luke and Laura like NORMAL kids?” I cried. “Has God forsaken me?” While YOU spent the summer by the pool or sailing with your family (I said I’m not bitter), I was not allowed to join you until the overlords were satisfied with my work on their flower beds and infinite rows of vegetables. I’m sorry if I was too tired to play Duck Duck Goose, my friends. My tiny back was broken by 3:00 every summer day, but they never broke my will. That’s how I stayed alive.

I still see the weeds in my dreams. For every two I pull out of the ground, a forest replaces them.

Yesterday I bought flower boxes, seeds and a watering can. I can’t quite explain why I did this. Stockholm Syndrome maybe? Am I identifying with my captors, so that I might BE ONE OF THEM? I can’t be sure. All I know is that I put my father in the ground and now I want something to come up. It is going to work.

Ween – Push Th’ Little Daisies

We Only Look Small

2009-04-23T00:37:00.011-05:00

If an alien took a photograph of the Milky Way you and I would best be viewed in a microscope. Feeling small? Don’t, it would be a mistake. Cheer for the alien who had the inspiration to look closer. That person is going to help you make this life matter.

Yesterday I tried to write a blog about news I had missed while I was out of town. I never felt what I was writing because my mind has been settled on Olcott Beach and my father dying. I had this crazy idea that I should try and type something mainstream-ish in order to be a part of the on-line community. Like I used to. Much of my work is based on improvisation so I tried to react to the present. I’ve heard that it is important for grieving people to get back on track but I can tell you for certain that this process has a mind of its own and little regard for timetables and blog traffic.

The truth is that I want to wave at the alien with the microscope. Something important has happened in my life and I am eager to connect with other people. My experience is not unique; we’ve all been through things so why not go through it together? However, I have learned that everyone has an exclusive story that the big picture fails to show. We are as rare as our own fingerprints and not everyone has the time or patience for a better look. I’m making more time because I know better now.

If you’re wondering where I am going with this it has to do with torture. As many of you know, the US government has tortured some of the men accused of masterminding 9/11. This revelation has affected me.

I know what it is like to see a parent tortured and I can’t forgive my father’s doctor or his disease. I doubt I ever will. Likewise, those men in jail (as awful as they were) probably have children who will remember the inhumanity their parent endured. Torture perpetuates hatred. Real hatred, always echoing and violet in color, feels impossible to eliminate. For that reason alone I know that torture is never correct. Torture deflects humanity. It overcomes reasoning.

Compel yourself to take a closer look at the world. Decide that there are better ways to do things.

Tea and Nonsense

2009-04-22T02:12:00.003-05:00

I’ve been out of the loop for a while. Can someone tell me why Rush Limbaugh shaved his special place and staged pervert rallies across the nation? I kept turning off the evening news every time I heard “tea bagging” because my mother was in the room.

I heard the Obama family got a dog. The cashier at Dollar General said it was a Kennedy. “Their dog is a Kennedy?” I asked. “No, their dog was from Ted Kennedy and it isn’t even from a shelter. It’s WRONG.” Jesus Christ. When an old guy with brain cancer gives someone a puppy the correct response is “thank you”. The next thing I know, the cashier was bagging my greeting cards with the ice cream and ruining everything. How ignorant.

I caught the tail end of Obama’s key party in Trinidad with Latin leaders. I think Hugo Chavez is a nutter and a gasbag as much as anybody, but I do realize the merits of shaking the guy’s hand in front of the press. Hugo makes Obama look so much taller in photographs.

You know what else? Sitting in my Dad’s Vibe and listening to NPR was easy on my eyes. I was chock full of breaking news alerts that went untended in my inbox for three months, so I wiped out almost everything. It felt awesome.

What else did I miss? Is Octo-Mom really La Toya Jackson?

I'm No Dr. Doolittle But...

2009-04-21T01:22:00.018-05:00

Sally, did I tell you about the time all the woodland creatures in Olcott Beach came out to make sure my Dad was dead? Yes, I am on the real. A hawk with full-grown possum in its’ clutches stopped by Mom’s house, a swan flew over the porch and a coyote met me at the door. “Is it true? Is the coast clear?” the coyote asked me. “Yes, but Mom kept four rifles. Don’t get cocky,” I said. My father was a hunter – I anticipated their inquiries by land, sea and air.

-- -- --

It was weird. There I was calling relatives about Dad dying and the animals kept dropping by. I think the scent of meat and cheese platters being delivered to the house was making them crazy. Has anyone in your family died? People love to give you food when it happens, and let them. The urge to carb-load when grieving is insane.

-- -- --

Back to the animals – specifically, coyotes. Ever since Dad died coyotes started biting the crap out of people (the link is here). It’s like they coordinated their efforts and had a schedule! The coyote that came to Mom’s door ran away after I told him about Dad, but everyone I met at the post office was bitching about their rabies shots. Boy-howdy, they were so pissed. One guy was mad at me because the coyote did not bite me, too. “You’re next!” he warned. I can hardly wait because I am delicious. Mr. Coyote should be so lucky.

The hawk with the possum was flat-out wrong. Talk about showboating! Sure, it was impressive. How many times have you seen a hawk hanging onto a fat, fresh possum in front of your face? OK, but the Hammertime footwork and gang signs were over the line.

The swan thing was cool, but only because Mom had been complaining about never seeing a swan up close. It started weeks ago when we heard that swans were roosting in the marina parking lot. The day the swan flew over the porch I put Mom into the car and drove her there. At last she saw a swan! It was taking up most of a handicapped parking space. I pulled up next to it, careful to hang Dad’s handicapped placard from the rearview mirror. “Well I’ll be darned,” Mom said, “he doesn’t seem disabled at all.”

These were odd experiences but I kind of liked having all of those animals stop by. It was in improvement over the flies. The last time I saw Dad alive there were flies buzzing the screens of his window at the nursing home. Flies in Western NY in March? I wondered if it was a sign, if I should cancel my flight.

Last but not least I should mention the cat. It came walking down the street one night while I was sitting outside looking at stars. I sat at the end of the driveway and it looked so much like my Dad’s late cat, Pistol Pete. I laughed in spite of myself because the cat sat down and stared at me for the longest time when I told him how much he looked like someone I used to know. Then off it went, under the neighbor’s steps and out of sight. It was not until the next morning that I realized our neighbor has solid cement steps that nothing can crawl inside of, and I had a very happy cry. My Dad’s nickname was Tom because he loved tomcats best.

Kill Ur Internet

2009-04-20T02:59:00.009-05:00

Having spent the most of my time off-line since February I discovered that I don’t need the Internet as much as it needs me. The whole time you’re on this thing, one might feel like their mind is engaged with information and newsy things, which is exactly what the Internet would have you believe. The truth is that the Internet has settled into your lower intestine, it is laying eggs and moving on to new hosts.

Sally, I’m so serious.

The truth is that world outside your window isn’t half as much fun as having a digitally infected colon. In real-life you have to keep listening to people, and you can’t just pretend to log-off. For that reason alone I am willing to keep the worm in my rear, but I think it is good for me to endure things sometimes. It might even keep me humble. I bought some puzzle magazines to keep me busy, girl, and to prove a point. I'm a fricking genius with Frameworks and I don't care who knows it. It could happen to you, too.

The other truth is that real human beings are much more interesting that anything you can play with on-line. They say the craziest, most beautiful things. They have real arms to reach out with. Their flowers smell better, too. For all of the information we are privy to on-line, there are other things we miss about people and their gifts if we cannot see their faces.

Further, we don’t really need most of the information we receive on-line. Some of the information is very good and the rest of it is only helping you waste time. How many times have to looked up obscure, ridiculous information because you have a half hour to spare? You said it would be five minutes but that was wishful thinking.

There is a wealth of information on-line but most of it is clutter. It is the remnants in the bottom of your purse and junk in your shed you might never need. The worm feeding in your rectum won’t point this out but I will.

All My Love,
Mojopo.

The Load Out/Stay – Live 1978

That One Time When My Father Died

2009-04-17T12:20:00.007-05:00

The problem with trying to write something after my father’s death is not a lack of words. Rather, it’s been a struggle to figure out how much I can stand to say.

Thank you all for your condolences. Your kindness meant a lot to my family and me.

I spent seven weeks at Dad’s bedside and traveled back to Chicago for a few days. Dad’s situation changed dramatically within those few days and I had to turn around. Wouldn’t you know it – my flight was delayed and I was hung up at JFK for five of the longest hours of my life. My sister met me at Baggage Claim in the Buffalo airport shortly after midnight and I was waiting for my suitcase when a nurse called to tell us Dad was dying. I tried to urge the conveyor belt along with my boot heel (does not work) while Sister #1 called Sister #3 and told her to pick up our Mom. We made it to the nursing home at 1:05 AM, which was a late Saturday night or early Sunday morning depending on your point of view. From the entrance I could see my brother sitting in the family room and a nurse met me at the door. She pursed her lips and shook her head back and forth slowly. That is how I found out my father had died ten minutes earlier. He was still but warm when I went into his room.

Folks have asked me what happened to my father and how I’m doing. The best short answers are that he died of respiratory failure due to Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD), and I am going through the normal stages of grief.

Dad pre-arranged his funeral in March 1999, ten years to the exact month of his death. He picked out his headstone, too. It’s a polished black stone (“I can see my reflection in it!” he said), etched with the image of a fisherman flanked by two deer at a cabin on a lake.

Dad: Ain’t it purdy?
Mojo: Oh my God.

My father’s favorite decorating theme could be called “sportsman chic”. The stone compliments his deer rugs, the bear lamps in the living room and the stuffed trout that used to hang on the wall above the refrigerator. It is wonderfully terrible.

Flying East

2009-03-20T23:46:00.003-05:00

Thanks for all of your kind comments and well wishes this week. Just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be out of town again, and I'm flying back to Olcott on Saturday. My father's health has taken a turn but he is resting comfortably.

A funny thing happened on Friday, according to my Mom. My father was acting as if he had a cigarette in his fingers, flicking invisible ashes into a non-existent ashtray. He was quite content.

Be well and I'll check back with you later on.

No Smoking At The Funeral Home

2009-03-20T01:22:00.011-05:00

“When You Are Engulfed In Flames” is a book by David Sedaris that I love. It is about inappropriate, brilliant things including cigarettes and the way a smoker’s life revolves around this habit. It is also about quitting. As Sedaris put it, he “finished smoking” some time after his mother died of lung cancer. I reread this book while my father was in the hospital, winding down after his four pack a day habit that began when he was 9 years old.

As a smoker, I can tell you exactly why they are bad for me because I can read the Surgeon General’s vigorous warning every time I unravel a fresh, neat pack of magically delicious smoky treats. Oh my dear, cigarettes will steal your pride and kill you dead, but I am not finished with them yet.

-- --

I was going over Dad’s hospice information this evening and talking with my Mom on the phone. She said, “Someone from hospice could care for Dad at home, but I told them I don’t want them around here unless they can rake my yard and plant my garden.” Ok, so we will move Dad into the hospice facility by April because Mom has no use for a harp-player in scrubs. No problem.

My mother isn’t an unsentimental woman. Let me explain: First, Mom doesn’t want to have a stranger in the house eyeballing the bear lamps and coveting her Lladros. Second, for all Mom knows, this hospice person might be unable to resist the siren call of Darvocet in her medicine cabinet and she will not tolerate that kind of behavior. Third and last, what can anyone tell her about grieving a husband of 59 years that she doesn’t already know? Right or wrong, it is that simple. “Also, you can’t be seen smoking at the funeral home,” she said.

-- --

I haven’t talked to my sisters and brothers about our smoking yet, or the politics of funeral home behavior. I was thinking about this subject the day Mom and I went shopping to buy Dad a new shirt and tie for when he passes on (his suit is fine), to make sure he won’t look like a greeter at Applebee’s. Regardless, I was at Bon Ton thinking about how not to smoke when Dad dies. I don’t see me bringing this up with my siblings any time soon, so I will pack nicotine lozenges and patches in my handbag when the times comes and figure it out later.

If my father were in his right mind, and just to make Mom crazy, he would distribute cartons of cigarettes to everyone at the funeral home. I know because when I saw him last July he told me he would give anything to smoke one more time.

What I Hate Most About Hospitals

2009-03-19T01:09:00.016-05:00

Dear Sally:

I’ve spent the last seven weeks inside of a hospital and a nursing home while visiting my sick father. And that is why you are going to read about those places and my experiences there until I get it out of my system. Can you believe your luck?

Speaking of hospitals, I was trying to decide what I hated most about them one day when Dad called from his room to ask me to get a bedpan. That’s right – he had to call me. He said he had been trying to get a bedpan for two hours but no one came. When I arrived in his room 10 minutes later, Dad was sitting on a loaded bedpan full to the brim. Worse, someone came by and delivered his meal even though the room was as fragrant as a Port-A-Potty in August.

My area of expertise doesn’t cover bedpans, but when Dad asked me to get that thing out from under him I did. Quickly. Then I carried it the nurse’s station myself, taking extra large, indignant steps down the hall. “Can someone please do something with THIS?” I said to a lady in scrubs. She asked me where it came from and why I had it. “It was under my father while he was trying to eat his dinner!” As I recall, I was yelling. In retrospect, I doubt I was yelling loud enough. That crazy lady carried it back down the hall to my Dad’s room, rinsed it out in his bathroom sink and left. The night before, no one rinsed anything and they just left the used bedpan on the damn floor. I guess I should be grateful?

How disgusting was that episode? Beyond my measuring! I can’t believe they expected an elderly man in stage 4 of lung disease, with his heart ticking at 25% capacity, to eat his lousy Jell-O with a mound of loose stool under his deflated, emaciated ass. That’s the definition of heartless, man. I really, really hated that about Eastern Niagara Hospital (in Newfane).

I still see the bedpan in my mind. In fact, it was worse than the time there was no barf pan in Dad’s room, so I let him puke in my hands. I used to think his phlegm was bad, but not anymore!

I’m so glad I got my Dad out of that hospital.

So Good To See You

2009-03-18T00:08:00.008-05:00

Chicago has never looked so good, even through the prism of toilet water overflow on my bathroom floor. As far as I can tell toilets will misbehave when they haven't been used for seven weeks or so, but that hardly matters. I'm home!

My father is still alive (thanks for thinking of him). Mostly he is alive because he was refusing to sign a DNR order until last week. Dad has had last minute angioplasty, an eleventh-hour feeding tube surgery, stopped breathing at least three times (that I can remember), leaked blood from his pores for an entire Sunday one time and now he is comfortably resting in nursing home (also termed a "rehabilitation facility"). Since then my Mom officially became Dad's proxy and she signed his DNR paperwork.

Pop has all kinds of interesting things to say these days. "Don't forget to mop the ceiling," and "Ask the nurse when she's going to take that big rock off my back." I play along with him. "Yes, I'll buy a mop tomorrow," I said, and "The nurses will move the rock when they change shifts." There is no mop and no rock, as you may have guessed. We think he lost his mind after the last time he stopped breathing.

I am home for a while to catch up on my life while my father has daily rounds of physical and occupational therapy at this place. It's actually quite nice there - very clean and not even a whiff of pee. They have cable, therapy animals and cake.

Plenty of stories to tell you this week. First, I really need to get to that bathroom floor in the morning and (sadly) launder some towels. I intend to get a hair-do if possible, for cathartic reasons. Maybe I'll try to sleep, because I stopped trying to sleep seven weeks ago in case I got a call in the middle of the night. Mom can't pick up the phone if that happens. I miss Mom.

I am happy to see you.

Downright Chilly In Here

2009-02-16T20:44:00.005-06:00

Hello, folks!

Thanks for the kind notes. I miss you, too. I’m visiting my sister right now – the one with an Internet connection. It’s quiet here. She lives on Lake Ontario, I mean – right on the shore - and the beach is a frozen ice dune. Here’s a shot from her deck:

Brrr!

My father won’t eat. We ask him to eat something and he’ll say “BAH,” or “I said NO.” From what I’ve experienced, dying people are not as photogenic or eloquent as Lifetime movies would have you believe. Mostly, they are frustrated and in a terrible mood. There are endless moments filled with uncomfortable silence. And even if you bring a funny cartoon or a bag of candy to the hospital, chances are good that your father might tell you to throw everything away. It happens.

My father has lived for years without being able to breathe. I wonder how long he can go without breakfast, lunch and dinner? I keep telling him that old age will not respond to a hunger strike, but he will have none of it. We aren't even Irish!

Dad and I sit some more, me in my attractive scarf and him with his breathing mask, with lots and lots of nothing else to say.

More tomorrow.

Your Pal,
Mojopo

P.S.: Go Sasquatch! More polls soon. Promise.

Back To Olcott Beach

2009-02-08T02:04:00.005-06:00

Hello, folks --

I’m going to be in and out of pocket for a few weeks because I’m going back to Olcott Beach. My father is sick and it would be a good idea to come around. I’ll be staying with Mom.

Mom does not have cable or Internet access, mostly because she thinks each are the Devil’s work (“idle hands, blah blah blah”). I’m thinking about packing gin in my bathrobe.

In the event I find a stray Internet signal on Althea Street, I’ll let you know. Other times I will drive through the woods over a dirt path to my sister’s house and plug in there, as time permits. Mostly I will be hanging out with Mom and the rest of my family, visiting Dad in the ICU. It’s going to be like this for as long as it needs to be.

Until I get back, gorge yourself on the Tubes and think good thoughts. Thanks much. OK bye!

Your Pal,
Mojopo

Woman Terrified By Midnight Dog-Walker

2009-02-07T00:34:00.006-06:00

From the Lockport, NY Union Sun & Journal police blotter:

Town of Lockport
• SUSPICIOUS PERSON: A woman reported she was walking down Central Avenue about midnight Saturday when an unknown male walking a small dog attempted to stop her and engage her in conservation. She ran away and heard someone following her say “Come here. I just want to talk to you.” She said he was going to tell her parents and the man said, "No. No. Don't do that I just want to talk." She stopped at a friends’ house on Central and attempted to wake him up by knocking on the door with no answer. She hopped over the fence in the backyard and ripped her jeans. She continued to go back to her friend’s house on Branch where she called her father. The male was about 6-feet tall and around 40 years of age. He wearing jeans with a dark color shirt and had something shiny on the right side belt area.

I love these kinds of near misses! My first impression is that the suspicious man was a psychotic masher or the Zodiac Killer, because I always default to the worst-case scenario. Then again, what if she made the whole thing up get Dad off the couch? My apologies, ma’am, but I have to ask.

Absolutely no one was coming at the woman with a hammer, and then she made a big huge scene at her friend’s house. If she was truly worried might she have screamed first (or called the cops) instead of going on a walkabout and ripping her pants? Call me a cynic, but I've seen all of the detective shows on A&E. This case smells more like dog than wolfman.

You know what? She is reading far too many bad Emo-vampire books. I would prescribe JK Rowling to the young woman, because the Potter stuff actually goes somewhere.

Obviously there is an outside chance that the woman escaped a sinister dog-walker with an eye for the ladies. Oh no! Call 911!

Some guy juggling with music by Chris Ligon (Crazy Daisy)

Ackerman and Markopolos Go Nuclear On The SEC

2009-02-06T01:31:00.007-06:00

On Wednesday Rep. Gary Ackerman (Furious – NY) addressed the SEC during a Congressional hearing, to find out why they could not find their ass “…with both hands, even if the lights were on.” Ackerman delivered a series of well-aimed donkey punches at the SEC in light of their failure to notice Bernie Madoff’s $50-billion Ponzi scheme for the past nine years.

Harry Markopolos was working at Rampart Investment Management Co. when his boss told him to find out how Bernie Madoff was making so much money. With a few assistants and some pals, Markopolos discovered that Madoff was running the mother of all rip-offs. He also testified before Congress, because he had been blowing a whistle on Madoff since 2000. Boy, was he pissed!

Markopolos was at a disadvantage for years. By the looks of things, he probably was never the first person on anyone’s list to have lunch with. I’m not saying he’s ugly or boring, and I’m sure he’s a fine man, but he is somewhere between an adenoidal wonk and hard place. No one wants to come out and say it, but the SEC treated Markopolos like a crank caller. It’s pretty bad when the nebbishes at the SEC have better things to do than have a salad with you at Ruby Tuesday's. As a matter of fact, it was worth billions of dollars to them to avoid him.

Every year, like clockwork, Markopolos would warn the SEC about Bernie. The SEC would pretend to notice and then go back to playing Free Cell. Plenty of times they put him on the speakerphone, while everyone in the room made goofy faces and tried not to bust out laughing.

One day, Bernie Madoff confessed. “There is no innocent explanation,” he said. I should think not, especially when he made off with Elie Weisel’s foundation money (that’s not even the half of it). Everyone at the SEC shit their pants and died.

Rep. Ackerman is in this street fight for the right reasons and he is the perfect ally for Markopolos. He’s built like a fireplug and he acts like he runs a bowling alley. Together, the Markopolos/Ackerman equation is like every good 80’s teen movie, where the geek and the jerk are vindicated in a struggle against the popular frat. The formula works everytime, people.

Rep. Ackerman has a great finale. Check it out.

Snow Memory - Blizzard of '77

2009-02-05T02:08:00.008-06:00

I grew up in Western NY. When we were not inventing Buffalo Wings and eating Beef On Weck, our downtime was spent surviving blizzards. I found a cool video of the Blizzard of ’77 – a legendary storm that paralyzed the region for several weeks.

I remember getting out of school early that day. My sister and her friend came to get me on a snowmobile (which they had done before) but the teacher wouldn’t let me go that time (something about the words “irresponsible” and “insurance liability”). When I got on the school bus the sky was blue. By the time I reached Althea Street the sky had turned into a hurricane made of ice.

Walking home was the hardest part. The wind kept pushing me aside and backwards. I had my parka hood pulled over my face and kept a peephole open at my chin. At the time it seemed exciting to fall over as I tried to move forward (a premonition of junior year and red plastic cups).

Everyone at my house had to take turns sweeping the snowdrifts away from the front door. Worse, we had to sweep the roof to keep it from caving in. On one of my turns with the shovel and broom I saw a pheasant slam into Spot’s doghouse. Red head, long tail – everything you would expect in a reasonable pheasant. These birds usually hide in the forests and fields, away from people and neighborhoods. They do not land in yards. That is why I can’t forget it.

The pheasant shook off the hard landing like it was in a cartoon, with dizzy stars over its’ head. A second later the wind grabbed that bird and threw it out of sight, and pitched all 9 years of me against the porch. Pheasants used to taste good until that happened.

I know it’s crazy to admit, but to this day I question the whereabouts of that bird. If you or a friend you know is a pheasant from Niagara County during the Blizzard of ‘77, please get in touch with me about the last 32 years of your life. Thanks much.

Random Diversion Blog

2009-02-04T01:51:00.004-06:00

So here’s the deal: I’m typing with one hand and words take much longer to spell. I’m wearing a sling on my right arm – something about bursitis or a rotator cuff thing. Be that as it may, I’m willing to qualify with a new blog. It’s not like I’ve got a diving bell and butterfly problem, ok? I hate Locked-In Syndrome as much as you do.

Today it’s just you and me. No Digg, no Technorati – none of that sensible networking stuff that takes more time to tap out on a keyboard. Let’s get lost. Together we can ride bareback through the Blogosphere!

Our first diversion of the week? People who run red lights. How much do we hate that? “Oh no – did they run the light? Oh my God! We almost died!”

I love Live Leak. It’s one of my guilty pleasures.

That reminds me… I haven’t been rear-ended in forever. I’m due. Damn.

Bank of America Blew The Rent On A Kegger

2009-02-03T01:36:00.006-06:00

Bank of America failed to read my Field Guide For Shameless Wall Street Types. They were too busy to pay attention because they were blowing their bail-out on a Super Bowl party for “prospective clients” while “marketing loan products”. Obvious euphemisms for “open bar” and “party ‘till you puke”.

If there is a more frat-bastard way to create a PR nightmare during an economic disaster, let me know.

For a company that was crying a torrential downpour of salty tears, teetering on the brink of a suicide cliff, BoA sure knows how to get down. They could have given people knock-off watches for opening a new account at their bank, but NO. Hmmm, considerate business gimmicks v. body shots with cougars? Cougars win!

I spent some time looking at news sites on Monday, to see how many people were as eye-bulging mad as I am about BoA. Funny thing happened at the ABC News forum. About 300 people signed up to that site yesterday, to comment in favor of BoA. First time visitors. Go ahead and click on the profiles belonging to pro-BoA monikers and see for yourself. That’s what corporate damage control looks like. How very thoughtful of those BoA employees to stink-up the Internet when they should have been preoccupied with making us some money.

I want my TARP back. Actually, I want my money plus a free pass to go hog-wild epileptic on the entire list of executives at BoA. First in line for this opportunity should be former BoA employees laid-off in 2008 (to curb expenses). Fair is fair.

Did anyone really expect corporations to take the fiscal and moral high ground when they received TARP money? Why, and who are you really? It would have taken five minutes for any elected official (or former president) to outline decent behavior, but they flaked – distracted by inhaling and exhaling into paper bags about the money problems.

If it were up to me the US government would regulate, legislate and berate the crap out of these companies, because they are incapable of making good choices on their own. Their business models keep breaking down and we deserve something else.

Mojopoll: We Should Tax Republicans

2009-02-02T01:46:00.009-06:00

I have this little thing that I like to call Mojopoll. It is a dandy substitute for hard science, in that I get to ask readers a set of leading questions that support my own point of view on any given subject. Big fun for everyone!

Lo and behold, you read my mind about the economy last week and how to fix it. Both us agreed that we need to tax the hell out of Republicans (67%). Moral and fiscal irresponsibility should come with a fat price tag, that’s why! We could end their wars and eat ‘em with Grey Poupon (after we drill the Bush family for oil). Yes we can! Yes we can! Yes we can!

Speaking of Republicans, did you see what the GOP did last week? They erected Michael Steele to be the first black Republican Party leader. I beg your pardon, but the Democrats did that "first black leader thing" all ready (and their candidate was NOT just some black guy). Is this new Republican appointment related to the Equal Opportunity Act, because if so – I’m confused. I thought Republicans hated affirmative action. Who the hell is this Michael Steele? Supposedly, he was a black lieutenant governor from Maryland and he has appeared on cable television. Stunning. Christ, they could have saved some time if they just put John Boehner in black face make-up.

With this subject in mind, I developed a new Mojopoll. Your answers could influence the Republican Party, going forward. The poll is on the right – multiple choice, as always.

Which race, creed or color do you prefer?

Don't be a hater. It skews the results. Thanks, and have a happy Monday!

Cyrkle - Red Rubber Ball

Super Bowl Day Off

2009-02-01T01:31:00.005-06:00

I’m not writing a blog today because I’m busy looking for chicken wings to eat during the Super Bowl. Did you know about the chicken wing shortage? What a castastrophe! This was totally under my radar. Also, I injured my shoulder in the dishwasher. Long story!

Don’t worry. My shoulder hurts much less than my face did, when it got caught in the oscillating fan. Do I LOOK like I studied coordination?

Like some other people you know, I’m going to watch the Super Bowl on Sunday. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on with that – not even a remote clue. Pittsburgh is playing Arizona, and that’s as far as I can go. I’ve seen this show a bazillion times but nothing ever stuck with me. I’m there for the commercials and because I can shout, “WHOOO WHOOO WHOOO!” when I feel like it. It is an honor to be the designated Whooo Whooo Person. No, I don’t even need a beverage.

Back to my point: I can’t write a blog today because of a chicken wing conspiracy, football, and because the dishwasher tried to kill me.

Have a happy day!

2009 Field Guide For Shameless Wall Street Types

2009-01-31T02:37:00.008-06:00

1. If the US government gives you $20 billion dollars to keep your business solvent, do not spend it on jets, office furnishings, parties or bonuses for your butt buddies. This is your first and final warning.

2. The days of wine and roses are officially over. Welcome to the Value Menu Years! FYI – the menu selections rarely change. Memorize them all to save time when placing an order (Jr. hamburger, parfait, 3 chicken nuggets, fried hair or a small orange soda). Easy!

3. If you have been ripped-off by Bernie Madoff it means that you can probably afford to take a hit, because he didn’t play pissant, rinky-dink, Little People games. Surely you must have been somebody once! Still upset? My mother is available to give you something to really cry about. By all means – ask for a demo with her tomato stick. I dare you.

4. If you are a CEO of a company that did not receive as much TARP money as your peers, it is because your peers screwed it up for everyone. If you were to look up your peers in the phone book, knock on their doors and punch them all in the neck, who am I to judge? Have at it.

5. While your wife is recovering from her last Botox injection for a long time, have her snip supermarket coupons from the Sunday newspaper. These coupons can be traded for a discount on food items or used as a trendy alternative for expensive toilet tissue. It’s the latest thing.

NEXT WEEK: Sign up for my latest seminar, STFU And Make Me Some Money. We will discuss the ways you will earn money without abusing your secretary and staff. Yes, it can be done! Get tips on downsizing your estate without looking like you're from Alabama or New Jersey. Also, learn how to bake a Humble Pie. Mmmm!

Slumdog Millionaire's Children

2009-01-30T01:24:00.011-06:00

The makers of feel-good hit Slumdog Millionaire are trying to mitigate a controversy regarding the compensation paid to the child actors in the film. Director Danny Boyle and producer Christian Colson are taking a beating in the press after it was discovered how little the children earned in comparison to the film’s success.

Slumdog has earned about $43 million so far, and it cost only $15 million to make. In Hollywood terms $15 million is what people pay for parking, not for an entire movie (one of the many reasons why this movie is extra-special).

It has been reported that the children in Slumdog earned between $1,000 and $2,400 dollars, though Boyle and Colson will not confirm the amount.

The official explanation:

In their statement, Boyle and Colson said the production took special care to look after the children's welfare, paying for their elementary and secondary schooling (neither child had been educated before) since last June, covering their basic living costs (including health care and emergencies) and establishing "a substantial lump sum" payment for college tuition that will be distributed to the young boy and girl "when they complete their studies."

Fox SearchLight said:

For 30 days' work, the children were paid three times the average local adult salary. . . . We are extremely proud of this film, and proud of the way our child actors have been treated.

Slumdog was supposed to go straight to DVD and break even. Then someone at the head office stopped counting their money long enough to actually see the movie. One can only imagine how that played out. It’s not every day that something beyond magnificent pops out of fifteen million Hollywood dollars.

Boyle and Colson, bless them, gave us a movie that is - in my world – as close to perfect as it gets. From what I’ve heard, they are good and decent people trying to do right by the children who made the movie soar (because without those kids, half of the movie would be missing). Still, it bothers me that the 8 year-olds from their movie are living in squalor.

I realize that the kids made more money than anyone in their Mumbai neighborhood last year, but that’s nothing Fox Searchlight should be proud of when you consider that everyone on the block lives under a plastic tarp, next to open sewers.

Modest trust funds have been set up for the children. They will receive it when they “complete their studies”. How may children actually finish their education while growing up on a mud puddle in the Third World? These kids might make it because of recent press but only if Boyle, Colson, Fox Searchlight and everyone who saw this movie cares what people are saying about Slumdog ten years from now.

You and I could have a spirited discussion about fairness versus justice, regarding the children’s salaries. But I would tell you, in all fairness to the big picture, justice is not being served.

There's something else. I’ve been wondering if the Hollywood dealmakers are warming their hands by the trash can fires of the latest Slumdog news. They have a vested interest in making expensive movies that cost much more than $15 million. It’s not good for business when someone else can do a better job for half the money, Salim.

I want this movie to win the Oscar and it would be terrific if the happy ending can reverberate throughout the lives of everyone involved with Slumdog. I would be thrilled beyond repair if the movie did not end here, but I know that reality often trumps a dream. For a little while, Slumdog made me think the opposite can happen. For that much I am grateful.

If you have not seen this movie, you should.

Obama Presents Package To Republicans

2009-01-28T01:09:00.013-06:00

President Obama spent Tuesday trying to convince House Republicans to support his enormous economic stimulus package. The president has been very eager to gain Republican cooperation, while most Democrats are wondering why he even bothers. It’s not like we actually need those people. What we have here is a failure to understand the Freudian symbolism involved. Sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar.

Personally, I wouldn’t leave my purse unattended around those House Republicans. They advocate the Robin Hood In Reverse doctrine, in that giving to the rich and taking from the poor is preferred. What does Obama see in them that is not repulsive? Shouldn’t he be shaming Republicans into submission or something?

I was thinking this over while I was researching another project and stumbled across an article about Sigmund Freud, the anal theorist and phallically obsessed founder of modern psychology. Poop was important to Freud, but penises ran the show. That is when I realized Pres. Obama was exercising his (conscious or unconscious) desire to make his enemies behold his presidential penis.

Apparently, Obama’s penis is so massive that it requires more than Democratic hands to hold it aloft. He leaves his detractors with the choice to support his manhood or be deprived of it. Ah-ha! Now we are getting somewhere. Penis Politics! For some reason, I am reminded of medieval armor and those intimidating codpieces.

It might look like Obama is asking for Republicans to love his money. He really wants them to admire his package. It helps that white male Republicans are not lesbians.

Oh, don’t worry. Obama will get his package delivered.

I’m having so much fun with this new administration that I can’t stand myself.

Ello Guvnah

2009-01-27T01:50:00.005-06:00

I live in Chicago, but I’m from New York. Gee, could it be possible that I am a bit biased if I equate gubernatorial positions with as much esteem as I would offer a sack of hot garbage on a July afternoon?

Gov. David Paterson of NY, Blago of IL on The View, and Ah-nold still in Ca-li-forn-ia. Then there is Gov. Sarah Palin, who cannot articulate her way out of a freakin’ igloo, landing a book deal worth $11 million smackers. If that’s not the icing on top of the crap cake, what is?

Tell you what. How about I just shove a chopstick in my eye and swirl it around in my brainpan until I pass out?

Mojopoll: Obamanation Has Love Hangover

2009-01-26T02:08:00.009-06:00

A recent Mojopoll indicated that residents of Obamanation are in the throes of a love hangover. If there's a cure for this, we don't want it. According to me, my readers hate war as much as they love diplomacy. It means that everyone on this page is brilliant, thoughtful and interesting. Good on you, people!

In addition to this warm plate of smarts and sensibility, readers of Mojopost are crazy for Michelle Obama. It totally explains why the entire US is glad our Mr. President had unprotected sex with his wife and made two lovely babies. You people are nothing like self-loathing, bathroom cruising Republicans. As far as I can tell, none of you would shoot your friend in the face, either. Yes, of course you can borrow my car. Anytime, pal!

This week’s Mojopoll is about the economy, because it’s going to be hard to extend the Obama honeymoon unless we can get the money thing figured out. Most couples argue about finances – Benjamins are required for a harmonious union. When the money runs tight, no one gets along.

What can we do to save the economy? The poll is on your right, and it’s a multiple-choice venture. Choose as many answers as you like. Have better ideas? List them in the comment section, below.

BlagoVision: Monday Media Blitz Scheduled

2009-01-25T03:09:00.009-06:00

Blago has hired Drew Peterson’s PR firm (because the Hillside Strangler’s publicist was busy). Drew Peterson is an ex-cop from Illinois. His second-to-last wife “drowned” in an empty bathtub and the last one has been missing for over a year. Drew has been a popular talk show guest because of his notoriety, and that is why you will enjoy some Blago on Good Morning America, The View and Larry King Live this coming Monday.

Tampa-based firm Publicity Agency is always looking for new talent. If you or someone you know is holding the crap end of a public scandal, please contact Publicity Agency immediately for representation. First time callers will receive a complimentary 24-hour media blitz.

Expect Larry King to receive many irate callers, a Shrillfest at The View and plenty of furrowed brows sagging over important-looking glasses on Good Morning America. If this doesn’t make you want to throw up your entire face, I don’t know what will.

Oh how I miss the modest din of supermarket tabloids.

Goat Fingered In Nigerian Crime Spree

2009-01-24T02:41:00.006-06:00

Nigerian police have fingered a goat as the suspected mastermind behind an attempted carjacking. As police closed in on would-be Mazda thieves one of the men transformed into a goat, a creature prized for it’s delicious cheese-making abilities and tin can-eating hijinks.

It is not yet clear why the suspected thief transformed into a goat, rather than a wolf or a bat. No matter. The goat has been arrested and will face trial.

Shape shifting was a popular skill practiced in most nations for thousands of years, but it has become less common in the modern age. The reasons for this are varied. Of the many factors considered, water flouridation and mega-churches rank high on the list.

I was not stealing anything at the time, but I distinctly remember turning into a giant wooden block in 1994 (A B C and D, plus 1 and 2). It was at a disco in Manhattan. I became aware of my predicament after a co-worker informed me that I had accidentally ingested her boyfriend’s Special K. Very much not recommended, but with some assistance I eventually changed into a cab ride home.

I don’t think I would have chosen to be a goat, but that’s just me. How about you? When you’re out stealing compact cars, which cloaking device do you prefer?

Obama From An Indian Point of View

2009-01-23T01:17:00.017-06:00

(President Obama's Hanuman lucky charm)

Yesterday I spoke with a woman we will call Harshada, who manages the gas station near my condo. Harshada is from India and she sells me my cigarettes. If there are no lines of customers Harshada and I gossip about life and the news – her behind the bulletproof booth and me in my parka. In spite of these barriers and thermal padding we have some good conversations.

Last night I dropped in on the gas station for some smokes, as a ruse to discuss the Obama thing with Harshada. “You never come this late for things, my friend,” she said, “You are bored, yes?” Yes. So I told her I have been reading international news sites and wanted to know how she felt about the Obama presidency and Hillary’s new appointment as Secretary of State. We discuss these kinds of things.

Harshada immediately focused on Pakistan, because she is eager to find out how Obama will tackle their messes. Also, it is very important to her is that the US has renounced torture. She was impressed with Obama’s reliance on the Army Field Manual guidelines for intelligence gathering. As she was speaking, I tried to think of one US citizen I know who has ever thought about the Army manual. Not even one, is what I came up with. Me either. I felt so stupid.

I double-checked some Indian news sources later, to be sure about a few things, and found a story mentioning Gitmo and the Army manual. Two complete paragraphs about the importance of the Army manual versus waterboarding and torture, which is more than I’ve read in popular US media sources. Perhaps I missed the coverage? It could happen. Regardless, Harshada had more information than I do about the manual. Which might mean that US news sites are lazy about details, or that our pro-troops posturing and righteous indignation is a wee bit under-informed. There seems to be room for a smarter discussion about these bad things Dubya has done.

My friend is enthusiastic about Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. Me too. The Department of State has been serving as Dubya’s beleaguered waterboy under the direction of former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. Dubya and Condi sent unarmed diplomats and aid workers into Iraq and Afghanistan, despite security conditions (war) that made their jobs an impossible hell.

On Thursday cheering new co-workers – masses of them pressing in, to try and shake hands - met Hillary at the door. “Hillary is going to get some things accomplished. A new era,” my friend said. No doubt.