So, are they going to dress up like Indians?

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goodcausewv2 

As mentioned in an earlier post, there’s going to be a tax protest at Covell Lake where participants will reenact the Boston Tea Party. It’s being organized on facebook. I think a counter protest should dress as British redcoats and threaten to arrest the protestors for treason against the crown – not because they don’t have a right to protest taxes, but because it would be equally silly and pointless.

Funny how almost no one complained when the last administration outspent all the others combined.

PS: Everyone’s favorite back-cracker is organizing the event.

When times are down, have some sauerkraut

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So I’m walking downtown last night and I get a text message from Oliver Surden;

“Just ate at the Bohemian Cafe. I’m in sauerkraut hell. It was awesome.”

People from every corner of the world have come to enjoy an authentic Czech meal and to satisfy the deep depths of their rumbling stomachs.

Bastard! Rub it in with gravy and gigantic dumplings you little jerk.

As you know, the Bohemian Cafe in Omaha is swinging joint

Just when you are having a decent night, one of your friends has to f’ck with you and tell you they are having a better night.

Oh well, Oliver deserves it, he also deserves the cabbage hell that will be inflicted on his gastric system today.

I have the best dreams!

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I can’t remember there being a point to any of it, but I thought it might be fun to run through the highlights.

For some reason I was at work on a Sunday and couldn’t check my voicemail. GoD stops by to use the shitter, and brought a ‘Post-Feminism-Lesbian-MAXIM-Assault-Weapon-Weekly’ magazine with him to read, but ends up leaving it on my desk. Inside the mag, instead of samples of perfume, there is a single prosthetic labia attached to an advertisement for vaginal reconstruction. For some reason I tear it out and start pretending it is a fake moustache, walking around and putting it up to peoples faces to see what they look like with ‘labia-lip’.  One of these people is my mom, who starts to freak out about the idea of fake mommy parts touching her face, when I reassure her that in reality I am holding a 4 foot long plastic iguana, and the very end of the tail was what I was pretending was the moustache. That is about the time that I notice that my voicemail light isn’t on anymore, and I start feeling like I’m choking and can’t breath. So I rush off to the bathroom, which is hard to find because for some reason I work in a giant building that is a cross between the YMCA, John Morrell, and the Old Courthouse. When I look in the mirror, there is a hair sticking out of my mouth. For the remainder of my dream, I am pulling huge hairballs out of my throat, stomach, sinuses and inner ear. Great big gobs of bathroom sink and tub drain type hairballs. They look like they’ve been steeped in soap scum and mold and they smell and taste about the same.

Someone walks in the bathroom and reminds me that it’s time to go bowling. It is at THAT POINT that I realize I’m dreaming… I don’t ever go bowling.. and that is what’s weird enough to wake me up.