I don't always dream about Steve Nash's wife

Sometimes I dream that I actually sat down and wrote that "greatest American novel of all time."

In the dream I sold just over 170,000 books which puts me on the same path as that fat chick from Facts of life, Blair.

That's just like me. Being a lot like celebrities. Like when I am poor I just eat a lot of bologna sandwiches and I eat them on white bread just like K-Fed does.

That makes me feel good, cuz like man that K-fed he got big. He blew up, especially after doing that whole reality series Kaotic. And he got paid. Sure he is gonna throw it all away on that new album of his, but what the fuck. Se la Vi, Motherfucker. That's what I always say.

Whenever I dream of making a lot of money I always have these real intense dreams of how I spend the money. Like I get into arguments with people in the dream about if I should redecorate the condo I buy with granite or marble tile. And watching all those shows on the Home Channel about flipping isn't helping either. Cuz I really think I know what I am talking about now.

K-fed knows what I mean:

I like that real journalism. I like putting other people's words in a sentence and making people, like, their faces light up about it. Not frown. Light up.

Straight up Fed. That is exactly why I want to write that book. You should have seen the faces of my family when I told them my plans. Cuz you always gotta have plans on how you're gonna make it. And mine was like, hey man, I am gonna write me a book.

And I am gonna write Oprah a bit part in the book. She will be like Gaea or something in it. If you get Oprah to talk about your book, you are guaranteed bank. That women could hustle ice cubes to people with ice cubes. Tell 'em that her cubes are way better and that their lives would be incomplete without her's. And people wouldn't even think about buying those cubes, Man. No, instead they would probably just shoot themselves because they didn't have it in 'em to think to buy her cubes in the first place.

That's fucking power, man. That's fucking power. I am not saying getting power like that is my goal or would even be a good idea. But If I got it I am sure I would use it for good. Mostly. I mean sure I would prolly make the age of consent something like 15.

But Alabama already did that.

The Total Information Awareness Network Just Won't Go Away

I remember when they first issued those "discount cards" over at my local supermarket.

I got really angry. I was used to getting specials like 10 for a dollar Top Ramen without having to wave away all my privacy rights.

But maybe the desire to spy on me came from another source. Because Big Business is snooping on my privacy for no better reason than to gleam the counter-intuitive notion that they should have placed Kleenex next to the orange juice.

If this obsession with destroying my privacy boundaries isn't just another example Late Capitalism "in its final death throws," then perhaps we should look to someplace more sinister for our concerns.

Indy Media is now reporting that the Total Information Awareness program is back and still intact. It has just had its name changed and has now been classified top secret.

"The TIA is program also aimed to detect patterns of suspect terrorist behavior by data-mining huge stores of information about everyday transactions like credit card purchases, telephone calls and travel records."

I might add in a conspiratorial voice that Google's has links to the CIA, AT&T has cooperated with the NSA, we've passed a national i.d. card, and Halliburton is building internment camps for "terrorists" and democrats inside the US.

It's not that much of a stretch to imagine that all this activity is meant for the benefit of one entity. George W. Bush's Third Term Election Committee.™

You think there might be a reason Bush is so smug when it comes to Republican chances for victory in the midterm elections?

I am going to get political for a second on you guys.

According to Raw Story it is not unusual for Floridians to vote Democrat, but have there votes recorded for Republicans.

George doesn't see what all the fuss is about.

"We'll have a Republican speaker and a Republican leader of the Senate."

Election fraud is such a concern that the blog Crooks & Liars admits:

I've been hesitant to publish too much about potential voter problems, not because I don't believe there's a problem, but because I feel strongly that we should not discourage voting and there's only so much news you can read like this without getting hopeless.

But in order to regain some semblance of balance in this country and to get the desperately needed oversight that this administration has not had in the last six years and it is critical that each and every one of us exercises our right to vote.

From Glenn Greenwald:

"What the Bilal Hussein detention reveals about the Bush Administration."

"Bilal Hussein is the Pulitzer Prize-winning Associated Press photographer who was detained by the U.S. military in Iraq back in April -- almost six months ago."

Along with 14,000 other people around the world (at least), he continues to remain in U.S. custody without being charged with any crime. The U.S. military has vaguely claimed that he has close ties with Iraqi insurgents but refuses to specify what it is specifically that he is alleged to have done, refuses to provide any hearing or process of any kind for him to learn of the charges or contest them, and refuses to respond to AP's requests for information about why he is being held.

I don't want to sound as paranoid as 9/11 conspiracy theorists do, but if Bush seizes power for a third term because of some Iranian dirty bomb explosion in New York. Don't blame me.

I already warned you. Plus I will be in some detetion camp built by the good folks at Haliburton.

Memo from the CIA

My friends and longtime readers:

You know of my obsession with the illegal 1991 invasion of Panama by the first President George. Investigation of that illegal act eventually introduced me to the one true socialist hero in Central America.

In addition, my fabled obsession with the "Venezuelan Strongman" Hugo Chavez can be viewed merely as a natural extension of all these interests.

All of this has led me to believe in a certain level of evil in the American government. Which only feeds the "conspiracy theory" lover in me.

I love conspiracy theories the same way you liked teen boy bands as a kid.
I know I will eventually grow out of it. But until I do I will continue to jerk myself to sleep to the poster of Omar Efraín Torrijos Herrera dying in a fiery plane crash.

So now you know why I was on the official CIA webpage. But instead of bringing up redacted memos of General Torrijos, I somehow got the above pictured memo indicating the CIA's TERRORISM REVIEW FOR 6 SEPTEMBER 1990. I thinks somebody out there fancies me an internets bloggin Woodward's & Berstein.

The coolest parts are the CIA's assessment that a "military engagement in the Middle East [by U.S. forces] would trigger an outbreak of terror against the United States and it's Allies.

I must say I completely agree with the CIA and my undercover source "Deep Throat:3 Sally's Revenge" view that Bush I is 100% responsible for 9/11.

To the Guy at the University of Illinois Law Review, Quit Stealing Ideas for Examining the Legal Culpability of Credit Card Issuers Under Tort Law

To quote one of my favorite movies The Spanish Prisoner, "The question is one of compensation, which I think you are entitled to."

University of Illinois Law Review owes me money. They ripped off my idea for a class action tort against credit card companies.

X-Man or why I now get to call you Ghetto Fabulous

It's been 6 months since I last heard from X. That's what he's calling himself now. No literally, X. That might seem a bit odd.

But he tries to reassure his long time friends that he "will still respond" to his old name or even to "Ghetto Fabulous."

He even provided us a sound reason for his name change, it seems the old name "sounded a little to metro for my tastes."

So are you just going for "out of the closet" gay now?

IF you haven't hung around with us for six months you will subject yourself to speculation about why you can't hang with "the homies."

So in order to fill in the gap or backstory of x's disappearance I thought it would be fun to have a contest. The winner of my contest will provide the best explanation of x's backstory.

Mine went something like this:

"X met some bad i.e. "shady" characters who gave him $80,000 dollars to deliver some drugs. Who knows if he did or not deliver those drugs. Maybe that is why they call him x? Because it's such an unknown. Or maybe the new X doesn't really drive a Subabru and is so fucking hard core he needs to be addressed only as X."

X's explanation though is basically pussy. "I disappeared because I was a bitch and was Whupped by a 19 year old whore. I am just going to say I went through a midlife crisis early."

This contest has finally allowed me to settle on the topic my "Great American Novel" is going to be about. I encourage any readers who know X to give their ideas for a backstory as well.

Prizes for the winner. Consider yourself memed or tagged or whatever.

Do you think Mrs. Steve Nash will get to hang out with George Bush now that the President has bought land in Paraguay?

I promise to stop streaming episodes of Ugly Betty
so I can report things like this to you.

From Wonkette:

"The Cuban news service reports that George W. Bush has purchased 98,840 acres in Paraguay, near the Bolivian/Brazilian border. "

I've always wondered what the back-up plan for Bush was if his push for a third term goes badly. I mean you totally know that he doesn't see a third one not coming. Imagine Dick trying to explain it to G. W.

"Term limits? Who's idea was that?"

A letter of inquiry for Steve Nash's Wife:

Dear Mrs. Nash,

I have to wonder if you are at all pissed that your adopted country's president is making his way to your birth country? Actually I have to also wonder if you've even adopted this country as both you and Stevey have kept Canadian passports.

As long as you stay on your path towards learning and using English Only, it's all good here.

P.S.

Good news one part of G.W.'s plan for a third term, the national I.D. card, has passed.

My dream life and Mrs. Steve Nash.

I had a dream the other day about returning to Tempe.

In the dream I remember the best part about going back was the increased likelihood of coming across Steve Nash's wife.

So in the dream I make a blog post about how I hope to meet Mrs. Nash upon my return and throw out an idea to her about going to that infamous Hooter's again and maybe confronting the dirty skank who besmirched Mrs. Nash's good name.

Well in the dream, Mrs. Nash reads my blog and agrees to meet me at the bar in hopes of bitch-slapping that Ho.

I go in the hopes of making a new semi-celeb friend, because my attempts with Kristin Cavalleri and Nikki Hilton were complete disasters.

So I go there and of course I bring one of my lawyer friends. I try never to leave the house with out a lawyer, because these days you just never know.I am sitting there in a booth when I spot Mrs. Nash. She looks stunningly Paraguayan. And I shout out to my lawyer friend "There she is! I can't believe she really came!"

My friend and I freak out as Steve Nash's wife makes her way over to us.

"Are you the boy who writes the "things" about me?"

She asks me in perfect English, except for her pronunciation of the word "things" which is totally off. It sounds more like "dings" than "things." But I ignore that, because I was once married to Mexi-can so I can translate Spanglish pretty well.

"Umm..yeah..that was me." I swallow down pretty hard after her question. Looking into her eyes makes me feel small. Her gaze threaten to swallow me up like a photon trapped in the orbit of an intergalactic black hole.

"Is she here?" Mrs. Nash is all business and makes no pretension to small talk. And like all Paraguayanians she is wearing a sequin covered dress. Her lazer beam eyes eat up the scenery, glancing up and down Hooter's finest cleavage, assessing the chance that one of the bimbos currently in focus is the potential adversary.

"Um."

But my eyes betray me as they glance back towards bar to the left of me.

"She is. That's the one, isn't it?" Mrs. Nash points out the blonde bartender occupying the station just a few yards away.

"Maybe." I admit.

"But you're not gonna do anything are you?"

"Cuz if you are then I ain't gonna tell, cuz I could be held liable, right?" I look over at my lawyer friend for confirmation and hopes that they can use their lawyer skills to de-escalate the situation. But all I get is shrug and a fearful don't get me involved look.

"Gee thanks." I scold away. "You're lawyering skills are straight out of the Art Vandelay School of Architecture."

My tendency to interject Seinfeldian refrences into all my conversations causes me to become a bit distracted from my new BFF. In that meantime Mrs. Nash takes my distraction as an opportunity to go all Karate Chop on little Miss "Take a bite of my burger" barkeep.

It's quite insane the amount of a damage a pissed off Paraguayan wearing a sequin covered dress with a slit can do with a drop kick.

This post is dedicated to the fact that the Suns failed to resign Tim Thomas and quote "I ain't got there back and shit now!" Endquote.

The not so Silent Totalitarianism. Mayor of Chicago to install cameras on every block.

I know I have been rather quite on this subject for a while. I wished I could say that was because things are getting better. I can assure you they are not.

Everyday we slide down that slippery slope towards fascism in this country. And for the most part we go quietly.

I have been getting more and more into Podcasting and I think this topic would be a great one for a Podcast. But I am too cheap to ponyup the 5 dollars a month required for the bandwidth. Ooh, maybe I could even start a forums and chat section. Kill the nerd in me now!

Of course this blog would make great podcasting as well. I have always though of this blog as performace art. When I read it aloud with sound effects the jokes just get funnier.

Go here to Enjoy the surveillance and check out the Mayor of Chicago's plan to put a camera on every block in his city. Feeling safer yet?

Source: Drudge I hate to admit that.

The Bathos Guide to Surviving Awkward Pauses.

"I have read your blog and it reads just like you talk."

That's one of the best things about me. I'm always vomiting something ass stupid out of my mouth before I can stop it in real life too.

Speaking of which have you ever been talking to a person and had one of those awkward pauses? You're not alone, it happens to me all the time.

Of course with me I have always just said something really strange and bizarre right before the awkward pause, so I am never quite sure whether it was the statement that caused the awkward pause or if we are just in the moment of pausing awkwardly.

You wanna know how to survive all those awkward pauses?

You pretend they aren't happening. Especially if you think the other person likes you. Here are some standards to get through it.

"Isn't great we don't have those awkward pauses in between our conversations?"

Sure you were in the middle of one, but because you just said you weren't having one you have installed doubt in the other person.

"Well, he doesn't feel awkward, maybe I am not feeling akward either. Maybe it's just butterflies or my nervousness. I must really like him."

You see how this works? You get them thinking that you aren't feeling nervous or awkward and then they reinterpret their feelings in a more friendly 'you might get some ass' kinda way.

"It's really nice we can just sit here and not feel we have to force the conversation."

This is just my polite way of telling you to shut up, but somehow it brings you a warm fuzzy. It's like a 75 cent Jagermeister shot, it's unsettlingly cheap and fucks with your judgment later.

Go share the Cuddles.

How my real life gets in the way of your enjoyment.

"Romius, when are you going to post again? You're not posting enough. Step to it. Chop-chop. I know you have an offline life, but you have online addicts to consider too :)"

I am sorry Katie. I have been busy. I do have an offline life. It consists entirely of doing online searches for strip clubs.

And that offline life searching for 'strip clubs' paid off handsomely after I found "Cleopatra's"-Palmetto's only strip club.

Once it dawned on me how close this club was, I spent my time attempting to keep myself preoccupied- in a futile hope that I could stay away from Palmetto's skankiest and dirtiest Gentleman's club.

But what amount of preoccupation or willpower could overcome "the combination of drugs, booze, strippers and off-duty cops led to a year long police corruption investigation that could ensnare officers and bad guys from Florida to New York."

You would have thought that I had learned my lesson regarding strippers by now. I have not.

But the only thing I can assure you is that if a stripper tells you her "stage name" and then her "real name" and she does this with out any actual prompting for her real name, then she is not really giving you her real name.

The following conversation is not verbatim.

"Hi my name is.."

What was her stage name? Summer...? Fall Skyes... ?August..? Ok, I don't remember what the fuck her stage name was. Or even what her "real name" was. She slipped that in with a wink and smile, just another part of her expertly choreographed introduction.

Full Disclosure Alert:

Her decision to introduce herself may have been induced by the following invitation given to her by me.

"Wow! You're so hot. I just blew 120 dollars here and if I had seen you earlier I would have given it all to you."

After introductions, August or Fall Skyes. Oh, let's just call her Summer. Summer has always been one of my favorite girl names. So Summer then proceeds to tell me she is "Doing the single Mom thing." And that "She lives over a hundred miles away." And works here "Because it is the only club that will let me work one day a week."

What a good Mommie.

Her devulsions are followed visually by a display of her taut, flat, tanned belly. No Mommie belly though. She had a nice lip ring though and a black stripe through her long bleached blonde hair. She really enjoyed her job. She like to moan a lot and when I wasn't grabbing her enough, "You can use both hands." She would take her hands and place them atop of mine and guide them where they needed to be.

It would now be inappropriate to remark about any stirrings "down there." So I won't. This ain't no porn blog, so stop getting your jollies off. But yeah, I ended up giving her the equivalent of a small 1986 Renault Alliance.

I may need to set up a donate button soon.

Hugs-n-Cuddles
Romius.

Sheppard Smith Strikes Again!

My curiosity was peaked after I noticed an upsurge of hits on my statistics page for FOX News reporter Sheppard Smith.

And since according to google I am the world's foremost authority on Sheppard I had to figure out what the cause was.

Turns out Billy Kristoll gets his intellectual ass handed to him by our good buddy Shep. Sheppard gets Kristoll to admit that Bush is more concerned with midterm elections than winning the war in Iraq. Sheppard calls the admission "despicable."

The video in the link just confirms how retarded most of Bush's cronies are when they are not being softballed. Why can't everyone on Fox be this "fair and balanced?"

Should we start a countdown for how long Shep will keep his job?