Had tickets for the U2 Joshua Tree concert in St. Louis on Saturday night but it got cancelled because of the riots. U2 concerts don’t matter, apparently. The stone set in my eyes, and a thorn twisted in my side. Well, by sleight of hand and a twist of fate, I got a call from Mr. Blue saying he was headed for the casino in Michigan City. With nothing to win and nothing left to lose, Ava and I headed for that jewel on Lake Michigan, in the shadow of a nuclear reactor, to meet up with Blue.
So I get there and Blue is into this table game Mississippi Stud, and teaches me how to play. I lost my ass, but I was HOOKED. I downloaded a Mississippi Stud app on the iPad machine, and was up all night Sunday deciding whether to triple up the odds on 3d, 4th and 5th street. Since that abortion on Saturday night, I have played thousands of hands on the computer, and have figured out EXACTLY where I went wrong, and how I will defeat this motherfucker in the future, and by the future I mean in a week and a half when SeaDick, Irish Jesus, Mongo, Kool, Keckie, and allegedly Captain and Butthead, descend on Vegas. So herein I give myself away, I give myself away, and describe how you too will defeat Mississippi Stud, like I will, in a week and a half in Vegas. Continue reading
Absolutely love this guy. The confidence. The attitude. He wasn’t going to take any shit from some dumbass reporter about the “risk to your own safety,” especially a jackass from Fox News. Just starts spitting out meridians and longitudes that the reporter has no fucking clue about. And then when the reporter attempts to demonstrate some understanding of what he is talking, Florida bro doesn’t take any of that shit. Irma is not just heading “westbound,” you simpleton, it is “275 degrees.” Fucking love it. Just owns that dipshit, who can’t get out of there quick enough.
Now, having said that, allow me to be the first to say that every word Florida dude spouted off there was total bullshit. He didn’t know how many miles away Irma was, what direction it was headed or if it might take a turn and flatten Miami Beach. His math was also wrong, because if the hurricane was on a heading of 275 degrees (it wasn’t), that is 5 degrees north of due west, which would be one-eighteenth, not one-fifteenth, of the way to 360 degrees, or true north (5/90=1/18). But that’s beside the point. Florida bro wasn’t trying to be the best at weather predicting, or math, he was trying to be the best at making a reporter look stupid. And he won the Hurricane Irma reporting, at least from what I have seen. Hope he didn’t drown in the storm surge.
Alotta guys are out there saying that Sunday night’s episode of Game of Thrones was the best episode of television, ever. Well, who am I to disagree? It was awesome, no one can deny that. And probably the only competition is the prior GOT episodes from past seasons with major battles, like when the wildlings assaulted the Wall, or the Battle of the Bastards, or Hardhomme, when the skeletons just rained down over the cliff and overwhelmed the Night’s Watch. Those were awesome too, you guys. I mean, in that battle for the Wall, you had giants riding in on fucking MAMMOTHS, which are extinct, the last time I checked. People forget that.
So yea, I’m not going to quibble over which of the GOT battle episodes was best. I will admit I had a rager pointing north the entire battle scene with the dragon and the Dothraki’s and Bronn manning the ballista. But I do have a couple of complaints, because I don’t think the battle was realistic.
SPOILER ALERT, obviously, dumbass.
You never know what you are going to get when you are listening to the Cranberries channel on Pandora. Actually, you know exactly what you are going to get, which is why I listen to it. Whatever.
Don’t let the days go by, you guys.
Like I said a couple weeks ago, I gotta break my blogging slump. Tried to get back in the groove a couple weeks ago, but work and life sometimes interfere with our true calling. Started a couple blogs on Trump and fucking Republicans, but that is just going to create controversy, and I certainly don’t need any more of that in my life. So here’s an easy one, and something we can all agree on—the Top Ten Greatest Songs EVER. Not exactly breaking new ground here, but since it is a list, in order, and covers the greatest songs EVER, it automatically qualifies for Premier Blog status. Can’t really argue with that logic.
Actually, although the Top 10 songs are pretty obvious, I suppose reasonable minds could differ on the ORDER of the Top Ten. And maybe there is some gray area as to the 10 spot. Hotel California really should be on the list, and I expect to catch holy hell for its exclusion. Oh well. That is what premier blogging is all about.
Need a quick blogging slump buster to get back in the game, and, SPOILER ALERT, a video of an idiot getting his face ripped off by a prehistoric animal is as good any, I guess. Continue reading
The obvious take away here is that you can’t celebrate too early. You can’t start dancing in the end zone unless you are actually in the end zone. The old guy should know that by now. First day stuff really. Well, whatever, I hope to one day enjoy anything as much as the guy filming enjoyed watching that drunk old couple get down the stairs. Thank you Internets.
LINK – A New York developer is willing to give up half of his $2 billion fortune just to end his messy divorce case — and he can’t stop laughing about it.
“As soon as this divorce is over, I’m getting remarried,” he declared after a hearing into his breakup with his spouse of 58 years, who has thus far not agreed to his offer of a 50-50 financial split.Developer Harry Macklowe, 79, was in a joking mood outside a Manhattan civil courtroom Tuesday as he talked about handing his wife, Linda Macklowe, a cool $1 billion so she will sign legal papers freeing him to be with his younger French gal pal.
The giddy real estate mogul then launched into an impromptu comedy set for reporters, telling a string of “Take my wife — please”-style jokes straight from a Henny Youngman routine.
The act included several long quips such as this one:
A husband has been giving his wife incredible pleasure, beyond her wildest fantasies, for 30 years of marriage. But they always have sex with the lights off. One night she gets curious, leans over and flips the light switch on. She is shocked to see that her husband is using a vibrator on her. “I knew it, you jerk, explain the vibrator!” she says. “Explain the kids!” he says.
First off, I would like to go on record and declare that I am normally Team Wife. Seen this scenario a thousand times. The husband and wife have been together for decades, with him bringing in the cash, and her at home raising the kids and being a MILF. Then, at some point, he feels like she doesn’t appreciate all his hard work and sacrifice for the family. Coincidentally, around this time, he just so happens to get some much needed attention from a young secretary or whatever. Meanwhile, the wife may have a few wrinkles (or not, if she is getting those $1800 Botox injections), but she is still taking care of things at home and looks damn good in the yoga pants. Regardless, like your president does every decade or so, the husband kicks the older broad to the curb in exchange for the newer model. That is usually where I come in, to comfort and console all those rejected 40 something MILF’s out there in their time of need. So naturally I am Team Wife, 9 times out of 10 anyway. Continue reading
Don’t pay the ferryman until he gets you to the other side.