CONSUMER NOTE
If you're planning to buy a Romanian car, you might want to check it for, umm, fluids.
(Thanks to Jeanne Bocanegra.)
If you're planning to buy a Romanian car, you might want to check it for, umm, fluids.
(Thanks to Jeanne Bocanegra.)
When people ask me, "Dave, where is the great music of today?" I direct them here (thanks to Michael Greenspan and Liz Donovan for alertly alerting me to this).
At this time we have found no -- repeat, NO -- substantiation of the rumor that, as a child, "Joe Millionaire" played Cindy, the youngest girl in the Brady Bunch. Please do not circulate this rumor widely on the Internet! Thank you.
Apparently these guys were not carrying nail clippers.
We are sick and tired of these persistent allegations that "Joe Millionaire" is, biologically, a woman.
They have not 100 percent gotten over the Civil War here.
They don't even call it the Civil War. They call it "Arnold."
Decades from now, children will ask their parents: "Dad or mom, where were you when Trista dumped Greg?"
At times like this, you wonder how we, as a people, summon the strength to go on.
The question on the minds of many voters, at least here in Atlanta, is: Where is the connecting flight?
Hey, I lost $99 billion last year also, but you don't hear me crying about it.
I'm on my way to Georgia today, and for a good reason: That's what my calendar says. "Go to Georgia!" it says, and when it uses that tone of voice, there is no arguing with it.
The security personnel at Miami International Airport and Drug-Smuggling Facility opened my suitcase and took a good long look at my nail clippers. But the fools let me keep them, which means that, if I want to, I can easily take over the plane.
Here is where they went. Home to momma.
After we deal with Iraq, North Korea and the Heineken mini-bar "worm" virus, we need to do something about this.
When people ask me: "Dave, why do you love America so darned much?" I direct them here.
The Dixie Chicks kick ass.
As you can see, the cute little puppies are gone. Cyberstud Ken Layne got rid of them. I don't know what he did with them, but I'm sure it was at least semi-humane.
I'm at the airport here in Fornia, and there's a British businessman on the phone a few feet away, describing the situation to somebody in his office: "On the public-address system, they have that guy, the saxophone player, what is his name... Kenny G, that's right. He's everywhere You can't get away. I'm in Kenny G hell."
The Heineken worm has struck again.
To all of the irate Tolkien fans who were very offended by my column on the Lord of the Rings II, I just want to say, with sincerity and humility: Get a life.
Yes, the economy is in serious trouble. And yes, Saddam Hussein may be developing weapons of mass destruction. But I know I speak for all thinking Amercians when I say that our number one priority must be to track down and neutralize, by whatever means necessary, the individuals who were responsible for the loud conversation directly outside my hotel room at 3:20 a.m. today
The local TV morning news here had a detailed report today on the fact that this is the 50th anniversary of peeps.
People have been asking for something called an "RSS feed." I have no idea what that is, and neither does my Technical Support Department, Judi Smith. We have been thinking of asking Ken Layne, but we're afraid we'll wind up with more of these freaking puppies.
The Dixie Chicks kick ass.
This damned "worm" virus is now apparently breaking into hotel mini-bars and drinking all the Heineken. At least that's what's happening here in Fornia.
The way it works is, if your team wins, you celebrate by wrecking stuff, and if your team loses, you celebrate by wrecking stuff.
I don't know about you, but to me there's just something about tuba players gyrating their tubas to "Black Magic Woman" that really shouts "Super Bowl."
Be advised that there is a vicious new "worm" virus circulating around the Internet. If it gets into your computer it will travel to your keyboard and try to get into your lap, where it will take up permanent residence in your personal organs. Currently the only known way to prevent this is to wear aluminum-foil underwear.
SUPER BOWL PREDICTION -- Call me crazy, but the more I look at this game, the more I like the Oilers. But if I absolutely had to pick a winner, at 4:31:23 PM on 1/26/2003, I would go with the Buccanneers, 48-21.
I have arrived here, although for security reasons I cannot tell you where "here" is, other than to describe it as "a large western state whose last name is Fornia." I will be here for several days on a secret undisclosed project that I cannot reveal anything about at this time.
When I got here, the rental-car guy told me he was tired because he got only one hour of sleep last night.
"I used to be what you would call very married for like four-and-a-half years," he said. "But then my wife split from me, so I'm single, and it's like, FUN, you know?"
I assured him I have no idea what he is talking about.
I will be traveling Sunday to a secret undisclosed location that I cannot reveal or say the name of, which means I probably won't be blogging until (maybe) Sunday night, when I hope to post my final Super Bowl prediction.
So for now, you will have to get your news from the mainstream corporate media.
Those were not put there by me. Those were put there by Ken Layne. I don't know how he did it, and I don't know how to make them go away. If I did, I'd put cute little doggies on his blog.
Thank God, in these troubled times, Congress has finally come to its senses and decided to spend ONE MILLION TAXPAYER DOLLARS to study traffic problems in North Dakota (motto: Six Residents, and Nearly As Many Cars").
Go here (link thanks to the Atlantic) and scroll down to Document 27, and check out the secret government project called "Acoustic Kitty," which shows we probably would have defeated the Soviet Union way earlier, except for a stupid taxi.
It's cold tonight, even down here in Deep South Florida.
Q. How cold is it?
It's so cold that we lit a fire. It's really great -- toasty and warm.
Of course it would be even better if we had a fireplace.
OK, thanks to Ken Layne I now have a real blog, sort of. There's a link on the left that will take you to my primitive old blog, powered by kerosene.
I will now spend days and days trying to figure out how this works, as opposed to doing anything productive.