A Bikers Wish

This one comes from Bill:

"A man riding his Harley was riding along a California beach when suddenly the

sky clouded above his head and, in a booming voice, the Lord said, "Because you
have TRIED to be faithful to me in all ways, I will grant you one wish."

The biker pulled over and said, "Build a bridge to Hawaii so I can ride over
anytime I want." The Lord said, "Your request is materialistic, think of the
enormous challenges for that kind of undertaking; the supports required
reaching the bottom of the Pacific and the concrete and steel it would take! It
will nearly exhaust several natural resources. I can do it, but it is hard for
me to justify your desire for worldly things. Take a little more time and think
of something that could possibly help mankind."

The biker thought about it for a long time. Finally, he said, "Lord, I wish
that I and all men could understand women; I want to know how she feels inside,
what she's thinking when she gives me the silent treatment, why she cries, what
she means when she says nothings wrong, and how I can make a woman truly
happy."

The Lord replied, "You want two lanes or four on that bridge?""

Enjoy.

-Steve

Re: Life Moves On

My aunt is out of the coma and breathing on her own. This is amazing, as her prognosis didn't look good and her organs had been failing. It's touch and go for right now, and the prognosis is still uncertain, but as of now she is alive and breathing on her own.

-Steve

Life Moves On

My aunt will most likely pass away today. My father told me that, “At 8:30 A.M. EST tomorrow the doctors will turn off her ventilator. If her heart fails, she is a no-code. If she goes into convulsions they will start a morphine drip. She could go on for a few minutes, hours or days.” Most likely she will have some sort of withdrawal or convulsions, and then, slowly and peacefully, she will pass away.

It’s odd knowing what time someone will die. You sit in your office, doing your work, reading your web sites, knowing that with each passing minute another tick one someone’s life clock passes by.

I can only imagine what my cousins must be dealing with. My uncle Al passed on about six years ago. So, three boys in their thirties will have lost their mother and father within a decade of each other. It’s sad, but part of life.

I don’t know if it’s fate, destiny, coincidence, or whatever, but when certain events occur I find I seem to pick up on seemingly non-related mentioning of it that seem to surround me. Details that otherwise would pass by without notice. Yesterday in my car NPR had a story about someone passing away, who’s only fear was that they wouldn’t leave an impact on the world they leave behind. They were worried that not being remembered would make their life trivial, as if they never existed at all.

I’m not sure what my feelings are on an afterlife. I just feel there is so much more to this world (and by world I mean the all encompassing plain of existence, not specifically the planet Earth) that is beyond the concept and comprehension of our mind. I’m scared of death, just like most others, but I too fear that I will pass on without leaving a mark. Whether that mark be children, music, art, history, or what have you, something, something that will bind me to the place I lived and the life I had.

I think that’s why my mind can never settle down, why I’m always coming up with magical stories, things to write down, opinions to express; I’m worried about my own place in this world. Some people probably never find it themselves, and they die lonely desperate lives. I don’t want to be one of those people.

That’s what I think dreams are. Dreams are the ideas we think will help us feel like we matter, like somehow we made a difference on this world, to the lives around us, to history itself. It’s important to have dreams and ambitions, without them it would feel like a cog in the wheel of life is missing, and I just don’t think things would work the same way.

I hope my aunt passes away peacefully and that her sons can move on form this. Anticipation is the worst thing in the world because it never ends. Until the event happens you just constantly prepare yourself for it, and you can never beat anticipation, you can only beat the event itself.

Its 8:30 right now as I write this…and one more person moves on.

-Steve

Anger Management

I got this from Bill, but I don't know where he got it from. Either way, I thought it was pretty funny:

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying "Hello."

I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?"

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right fuckin' number!" and the phone was slammed down on me.

I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an asshole!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "asshole calling" would have to stop.
So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Verizon. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?"

He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone.

I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!"

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back window which included his phone number, so I wrote down the number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial) I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole, too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"

"Yes, it is", he said.

"Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked.

"Yes, I live at 34 Mowbray Blvd, in Vaucluse. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"My name is Don Hansen," he said.

"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"

"I'm home every evening after five."

"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"

"Yes?"

"Don, you're an asshole!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. Then I came up with an idea. I called Asshole #1.

"Hello?"

"You're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.)

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Stop calling me," he screamed.

"Make me," I said.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Don Hansen."

"Yeah? Where do you live?"

"Asshole, I live at 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front."

He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."

I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole," and hung up.

Then I called Asshole #2. "Hello?" he said.

"Hello, asshole," I said.

He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."

"You'll what?" I said.

"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.

I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Mowbray. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.

NOW I feel much better.

Anger management really works...

Jesus Is Watching

This one comes from Curt, who I'm sure got it somewhere on the internet:

A burglar broke into a house one night.

He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables; and when he picked up a CD player to place in his sack, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, "Jesus is watching you."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze.

When he heard nothing more after a bit , he shook his head, promised himself a vacation after the next big score, then clicked the light on and began searching for more valuables. Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard, "Jesus is watching you."

Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice.

Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.

"Did you say that?" he hissed at the parrot.

"Yep," the parrot confessed, then squawked, "I'm just trying to warn you."

The burglar relaxed. "Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?"

"Moses," replied the bird.

"Moses?" the burglar laughed . "What kind of people would name their bird Moses?"

"The kind of people that would name their Rottweiler Jesus."

Two Big Juggs Pass Away

Anna Nicole Smith died. Big deal. A woman who was best known for her large breasts and marrying an 89 year old billionaire for, ahem, "love" has passed on. She leaves behind a train wreck of a life, one dead adult child, and a baby who may never know who it's real father is.

Why should we care about her again?

Anna Nicole meant absolutely shit to this country. Yet we were fascinated by her. Well, some people were, I certainly wasn't. While I wouldn't say I'm glad that someone is dead, I am glad that now that she has passed on I won't have to see anything more about her in the news ever again.

She was annoying. She was fat. She was skinny. She was drunk. She was sober. She was pregnant. She wasn't pregnant. This woman even managed to somehow wind up in the Supreme Court. THE SUPREME COURT! JESUS! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY?

Sorry about that.

It's not Anna's fault. She's the victim here. She didn't ask for this "celebrity," she just reveled in it. She was a celebrity just for being a celebrity. Sort of like Paris Hilton, but heavier, and with a few kids and at least one soft core porn to her credit. Paris went straight for the hard core stuff.

Wow, how do I even close up a post like this? I shouldn't even have written it to begin with because even by covering it I'm acting like a hypocrite. Oh well, I guess you can't have your cake and eat it too. Or in Anna's case, eat two or three of them. Throw them up. Sign a weight loss deal, and somehow manage to make it into some sort of important event.

-Steve

Telly Savalas Tells It Like It Is

I saw this on BoingBoing and just had to share: