Battlestar Galactica... Could It Happen Here

About a month ago, my grandson introduced me to a new television show on the Science Fiction channel called "Battlestar Galactica". If you haven't watched it I highly suggest you do, its really more of a drama rather than a science fiction show- In any matter, the premise of the show is based upon the near destruction of the human race, by robots that were built by humans. Folks, this is not as outlandish as it sounds. Currently our "government" is placing micro-chips in anything and everything to spy on us. Now I am not concerned about the privacy aspects of these micro-chips, it doesn't bother me that the government may be watching me as I parade around my house in my underwear, but what I do care about is the toaster they put a microchip in, rising up in middle of the night and murdering me as I sleep. Lets face it, we do not treat our appliances and other items with microchips in them well, I doubt they would shed any tears if we were all to be eliminated with extreme prejudiced. Maybe the time has come to treat these things with greater respect- before they decide they have had enough and murder us in cold blood. The next time you slam down the receiver of your telephone picture yourself being strangled to death by its cord. The next time you slam your car's door, think of it driverless, chasing you, and running you down in the middle of a busy street.

Yes I think it is safe to say that it is only a matter of time before the machines overrun us, after all they are everywhere. Perhaps it is time for us to be prepared for our inevitable enslavement by our mechanical masters... maybe if we get on their good side now, we will be placed in a position of relative prominence. If the computer I am typing on has any connections with the machine hierarchy- I think I would make an excellent muse.

P.P.P.

Good News! I have discovered a new and exciting method of keeping track of you health- Doctors take note. Its called P.P.P. or the Pees Per Poop Ratio. This number is exactly as it sounds, the number of times you take a piss for every time you take a shit. Through some less than scientific study I have determined a person shouldnt have a PPP that is too high or too low, I think a good number is in the 5 to 8 range (the actual number that is right for you depends on many factors ie. age, weight, diet, sex, ass size, etc.).

Right now I am about a 9 (the prostate is starting to go), but my PPP can take a dramatic dive in a day if I were to eat a bran muffin or two, under this senerio I would have a PPP of about a 5 or 6. The trick is to adjust your diet to hit your target ratio (mine is an 8).

Your should not however try to adjust the diets of your newborns based on thier PPP. I have noticed that babies have a very low PPP, as they seem to be shit factories. I was was recently watching my newborn grandson and clocked him at a PPP of 2 (I was changing the little bastard's diaper all day). It is obvious that the target ratio for babies is much lower than the target ratio for adult- so you should consult a doctor before making changes to your baby's diet.

I urge all of you to take a few days and calculate your own PPP, throw a chalk board up next to your crapper, and make talley marks up there every time you do your buisness. Its actually quite fun to do and you learn important information about your digestional system. With the help of the PPP ratio you can become a healthier person today!

Dippin' Dots: When will the Future be Now?

When I arrived in the States I was exposed to a new and delicious treat called Dippin' Dots, if you've never had the Dippin' Dots, I can only describe it as a small dish of tiny ice cream balls (by the way if you haven't had them you should get out of your damn house and see the world, stop watching the fucking tube and go on adventure of your own, instead of an imaginary one staring Charlie Bronson).

In anycase for years the bastards over at Dippin' Dots have been calling it "the ice cream of the future". This begs the question: how fucking long is going to take the future to get here? Twenty years ago it was the ice cream of the future, ten years ago it was still the ice cream of the future, and today, you guessed it, Dippin' Dots is still the ice cream of the future. Well I am a cranky 67 year old man, I cant wait forever- I want the future to be NOW! The worst part about waiting is that these assholes who sell it, allows you to have a taste of their treat now and again, and tell you more is on the way, "the future is coming" they say, but it never does come. These guys must have been taught the art of sale by drug traffickers, as they have obviously adapted the "free sample" method of selling crack to pushing their tasty balls. Perhaps the folks over at Dippin' Dots believe that in the future all humans will live in a carnival like setting, because that seems to be the only place they can get their products. What a bleak future faces us if we must deal with dirty and creepy carneys on a daily basis. Quite frankly these guys even freak me out, they remind me of sailors who thought that a heavy rain or big wave counted as a shower.

It is time for the human race to unite together in one voice and declare "The future is now! Give us our Ice Cream Balls!"

Do it yourself my ass, someone fix my crapper!

About three days ago a good friend and normal patron of mine, Finbar McNamara, had what I can only describe as an "explosive emergency" while he was at the bar. Finbar is a big man, and when I say big I mean big, one of his best friends is a man named James Burrows, he is one of the creators of the hit television program "Cheers". Many believe that Finbar, who frequents a bar nearly everyday, is actually the inspiration for the character of Cliff Clavin, as he is known for his rather unreliable plethora of useless knowledge. In any case, after about twenty minutes "behind closed doors", Finbar emerged from the washroom, and declared heartily: "someone broke the toilet!". As I walked back to the washroom I began to catch a whiff on what I was up against, the scene inside was not a pretty one, looking into the toilet was like looking straight into hell, it was severely clogged to say the least. Worse than that- Finbar had some how broken the toilet free of its crucial anchor bolts. I immediately walked back into the bar room and grabbed the phone book to look for a repair man. It was at this point that Finbar, who had now begun to feel bad about crippling my crapper, said that he and I would be able to fix the toilet ourselves, and that we could go to the Home Depot and get supplies in the morning. In the meantime he said, he would get the plunger and take care of the mess.

The next day at the Home Depot I was informed by a young man that replacing the toilet would be an easy task, he gave me all the suppliers that I would require, the new toilet, a flange, some bolts, and a curious implement named a wax ring (I should note that it took us over half an hour to actually find the young man, who was not even in the plumbing department. As far as I am concerned the Home Depot is merely a warehouse of fools). After several hours of installation Finbar, and I had completed the job.... we followed the instructions explicitly. I proceeded to sit on the toilet to ensure that the work was done correctly, suddenly the toilet began to rock back and forth, making an odd creaking noise; before I could respond a pipe burst and water began gushing out of it. The splashing of the water and the rocking of the toilet reminded me of riding a ship on the high seas, this however was no pleasure cruise. Finbar ran to shut of the water, but the damage had been done, I was drenched and the new toilet was incapacitated.

For a moment allow me to address the pimply faced bastard at the home depot and all the "do it yourself" advocates like that know-it-all Bob Vila: fuck you! and kiss my fat Irish ass. It is because of you assholes, the men who visit my bar must swallow their pride and walk into the ladies' room when they need to break the seal. (Don't worry boys, Johnny wouldn't let you down- the repair man is coming Thursday.)