Sunday, May 20, 2012


Mitt Romney: high school pranks went too far

Republican presidential nominee and all around no nonsense character, Mitt Romney, had some fun in high school that now has voters taking notice.

At the prestigious Cranbrook School in 1965 when boys were men who dressed sharp and carried a good looking brief case, a new student appeared. This student wore long, bleached-blonde hair that may or may not have been covering a portion of the eye or face.

Hidden to the rest of the population perhaps, but Romney could spot the trouble a school yard away. Backed by a robust confidence and the natural order of the universe, Romney led the charge to hold the offender down and cut his hair.

To onlookers, the incident was nothing more than a prank, used to welcome the outsider to their establishment. But Romney knew what he was doing.

When asked for comment, a laughing Romney said "I don't remember that incident."

Of course. The presidential hopeful has had a lifetime of fighting evil and correcting the errors of society. How could he remember such a relatively small incident?

We can expect the same man who took a stand back then to take D.C. and continue his fearless charge of fixing the country, which, by now, is spiraling out of control.

"I'm a very different person than I was in high school," Romney said.

Well, maybe a reminder of the drive he once had to help save civilization as we know it will reignite the burning flame of protecting American values. Remember, Mitt, when encouraging a closeted homosexual with a firm, "Atta' girl!" in class was all the reverse psychology needed to right the simple wrong?

"I really can't remember that," Romney commented.

That's OK, Mitt. You want to focus on bigger issues this campaign season. It seems the economy and energy policies could use a good ol' snip, snip of the mop on top. And couldn't Iran use an "Atta' girl" on their nuclear development program?

In these uncertain times, it takes a natural leader who’s not afraid to take charge and take action. No apologies for doing what is necessary.

"I certainly am sorry for that, very deeply sorry for that," Romney said. But that's just him playing politics to appease the masses.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Short Humor Story

Mashed Potatoes
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Sid Clemson, a battle hardened warrior, was left with little to occupy his time after the world's battles ceased calling. Outside his duties as a mercenary, he felt lost and wherever he happened to be, he often found himself in trouble with the local heat.

"He was born in the wrong century," both his friends and his foes often lamented when they'd hear of his troubles with the law.

And they were right. A man of Sid's build and desire to fight never could find a place to "fit in" in today's cosmopolitan culture.

But the law found a place for him. The guard tossed him down in his cell where society might finally forget all about him. He lay on the cold cell floor he had been sentenced to without any legal process. Only a third-world law man with a chip on his shoulder and his weaselly crony knew where he was now.

Or so he thought.

"What are you in for?" A faceless voice carried only a few feet from the darkened corner of the cell and yet, it seemed to come from another corner of the globe from a different era. But Sid's eyes still needed adjusting to the dark, so he couldn't be sure.

"Me? I'm in here for a lifetime of anger and frustration. An offense against world decency. The law only needed a reason to pick me up."

The stranger, amused, asked, "So why did they?"

Sid looked up, "I gave them a reason."

When the stranger reached his hand out to help Sid up, he was identified as Sid's partner in merc work from long ago, Huck Steamboat. The greeting was as touching of a moment either of them ever felt.

"Old habits die hard," Huck said, remembering all their times together.

"And so do aliens," A third voice from the past chimed in.

A general stepped out of the shadows. The man who used to send the men into combat zones and say "goodbye forever."

"Colonel!" they said in unison.

"Ah-ahh," he indicated the star. "It's 'general' now."

"That's right, I heard," Huck said. "You were promoted after orchestrating the capture of a boat load of pirates."

"Try, a 'butt load' of pirates," the general said.

"So what's all this I hear about aliens?" Sid asked.

"Oh, they're after the white house again. This time it's something to do with secret missiles we planted on Mars."

"Mars, the God of War," Sid and Huck observed.

"More like Governor of War," the general said. "I'm the God of War! And I'm leading an army of space commandos to annihilate the little green spuds."

"General," Huck said. "They're a peaceful race."

"My point exactly. They'll never see it coming. Now let's go mash some potatoes for Mother Earth!"

"Mother Earth!" They cheered and put their fists up and fought their way out of the prison.

Upon reaching the distant, but not impossibly far, planet of Mars, the commandos stormed in like they planned on leaving nothing but boot prints on the ground. But one of the missiles misfired and caused an explosion so big, it likely killed all of the space commandos. But, if the explosion didn't kill all of them, it likely left an open to a higher budget sequel with more missiles.

Monday, May 14, 2012

The U.S. releases high-level insurgents

"Give peace a chance." -Random idealist destined for failure 

According to a report from the Washington Post, U.S. officials have released high-profile insurgents being kept at the only American military prison in Afghanistan.

The "strategic release" program allows the U.S. military to negotiate with the Taliban by trading prisoners for peace.

The bold move by the military seems like a deal almost too good to be true, but officials speaking on anonymity confirm its reality. But they would not specify whether insurgents who were granted permission to return home were found later fighting U.S. personnel, an obvious violation of the conditions upon which they would be released.

The program has existed for years and officials have admitted the high risk of their quiet operation.

Risk? You can say that again.

After all, aren't we still fighting a war after we've supposedly traded some prisoners for peace?

Well yes, but the way the program works is for officials to bargain for peace in a given area.

It helps to think of a war like a sheet of those air filled plastic bubbles that protect our shipments. A swelled pocket is an unpeaceful place and by popping the bubble, you have created peace in that given area. As we all know, it's difficult to pop ALL those bubbles and we often don't. Especially when the bubbles can break their agreement and swell up again.

Our military personnel deserve more credit than we can give them in this fight. Peace had it's chance before we were drawn into the war on terror, but as we saw demonstrated more than 10 years ago, peace wouldn't last.

So now we're stuck fighting for peace in what feels like a never ending battle.

In this program that continues the releasement of our would-be, might-be, and gonna-be enemies, it seems we found something else to try. Not fighting, and not peace - yet.

It is a real person-to-person, let's talk face-to-face and try to find some middle ground interaction. The program allows the officials to keep wheelin' an' dealin' for peace.

So move over peace, you've had plenty of chances. Now it's time to try something else. Who knows how effective this has been since its implementation? Nobody commenting can say for sure. But as we continue to learn the ways of the Taliban and the Afghan culture, here's to hoping this sort of bargaining is a step in the right direction.

Friday, May 11, 2012


The Joys of Life

I could live off surf-n-turf, man, I could eat that until the day I die and be happy. The problem is, I can't afford it everyday. Unless I die tomorrow, then I could afford it everyday... so I'll let you know how tonight goes.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Short Humor Story

First Impressions
Tuesday, May 01, 2012

It’s fun to speculate on how to make the best first impression, but we never really know how we did, so what’s the point? I do everything by the book to make the most of meeting new people and I guess I let fate do the rest.

Take this date for example: Textbook

I let her do all the talking. Good first impressions are made by letting the other person talk. I just sat and listened for what seemed like forever. Listening to her go on and on and sometimes asking me questions, but nut-uh, she couldn’t get me to talk for anything. This was her time and I thought it’d make her feel comfortable and special to hear her own voice.

I let down my guard. Most ladies know I’m human. And those that don’t know right away soon figure it out. I’m flawed – there I said it. Let’s move on from those flaws and have a real conversation. My flaws: I steal stuff; sometimes I inhale while I drink; once my tennis shoes are tied, they never come untied; I run with a rough group; I lie about stealing; I frequently choke on hard to chew foods. Feels good to get that out in the open.

I used her name. Hearing ones own name back is the sincerest form of flattery and when we introduced ourselves I said her name. I repeated her name to her over and over. I must have said it a bijillion times. Her flattery was masked under what appeared to be uncomfortability. So I just moved in closer and kept saying it. “Matilda… Matilda… Matilda…” I thought it sounded like an STD, and I told her that.

I appeared interested. Every time she finished a sentence I would gasp as if it was the first time I had heard such a thing. If she told a joke, I tried to laugh as loud as I could so that everyone around thought we were having the most interesting conversation and the most fun. Sometimes I would gasp even at the anticipation of her sentence coming close to an end. Then at the real end of the sentence I would gasp even louder causing her to gasp.

I tried to show her herself. I would lean in and mirror her movements and even emotions. This was my attempt at trying to remind her of looking in a mirror. Women love looking in mirrors. I really had to pull out the stops to imitate her eating. She had the most dainty way of cutting her food down to almost unimaginable sizes and eating it with silverware. I have to say, I never thought of a waffle as something you’d eat with silverware. Then, once I thought I had her movements under my control, I leaned in for a smooch. She slapped me, which caught me by surprise and I was too slow on the imitation. She dodged it and started to walk away. My mirror plan backfired when I began walking in the opposite direction.

We eventually got so far apart I couldn’t see her anymore. So I guess I’ll never know how my techniques worked out.