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"Classic" maddad 2


I'm on vacation starting tomorrow. Read this.


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"Classic" maddad


Remembering Pontiac

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1500 Posts


The Beast will have his First Holy Communion this weekend, so in between conference calls and running errands, I'll be working on getting the house in shape for company. Mowing the lawn, trimming shrubs, burying the dead and dying hobos who got caught in the electric fence, mopping the floors...the usual stuff.

I started out this morning thinking I'd clean the boys bathroom, four boys can make a mess, and I hadn't been in there in a while, and HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!

Actual size

I think I'll let maddmom handle that one.

This is my 1500th post. I've been doing this since December 27, 2003 and to be honest, I'm thinking this blog looks a lot like the kid's toilet up there. I'm actually kind of burnt out on the whole thing.

Blogs like mine are pretty much over. Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin and all the social networking crap nowadays are pretty much overwhelming any interest there might have been in a diary type blog. The old stereotype of the blogger on his notebook blogging about what he had for lunch has been replaced with the hipster Tweeting from his cellphone every thirty seconds. Hell, I'd did it too, half the posts on this blog are one-line updates from Little Leauge games.
But lately I can't seem to get what I want to say out in 140 characters, and if my analytics are to be believed, no one reads this mess any more, and I'm tired of talking to myself.

I know I did a lot wrong. No trackbacks, never built a blogroll, never pimped my posts in bigger blog's comment sections, and never built up an e-mail freindship with other bloggers. When I started this blog, on the advice of my "blogfather" the late Rob Smith, the blogosphere was in one of its periodic hissy fits. Kind of like it is today. Bloggers were linking up into alliances and ceremoniously de-linking each other, calling each other "racists" and "moonbats" all sorts of other shit and I wasn't into that. Maybe if I had been into it I'd have traffic, but at the time I wanted to use the blog as an email replacement and a place to vent.

Vented a lot, but I never got anyone to read the damn thing enough to use it as a "keep in touch" tool. Guess I should have joined Myspace or Facebook. But to tell you all the truth, that's too much work. The fact is, I like being semi-anonymous. I can say what I want, it won't shock anyone who knows me, and if you don't know me, you still won't when you leave. But I'm pissing upstream, everyone wants to be connected and when I think about it, I really don't.

I don't. So If I keep posting I'll do it for me and I won't give a shit if it's good. Wait. I mean, I'll give less of a shit if it's good, if that's even possible. And I think I'll turn off my analytics, because after four years of weekly emails telling me that no one reads my bullshit, I realize that I'd much rather not know. (Although now that I know who I know doesn't read here every day, I'm a little curious as to who the third person is. I know it's not Google, I adjusted for Google.)

I think I'll probably quit some day soon. I've thought about it before, but I think it may be time. I'm taking a short vacation next week anyway. Tell you what, if I post on May 4th I'm going to continue. If not? Who knows, no one gives a shit anyway.

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The Annual Earth Day post


Ira Einhorn - The famous Unicorn Killer

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Phoning it in

I have Pac-Man on my phone and I'm terrible at it. These guys are much better than me.

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I got yer songebob right here...


This is how you do children's television.

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Good thing it wasn't boobs


CNSNews.com - Georgetown Says It Covered Over Name of Jesus to Comply With White House Request

Because if it was boobs on a statue, well... that would be unacceptable.
And reported!

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How to embarass yourself...


...even more than you already do. And by "you" I mean me.

I'm posting my scratch pad on the internet.


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They don't make 'em like they used to... I hope

For they third time in four years, the ice maker on my GE refrigerator broke. Pouring water through the floor and into my basement office, ruining my collection of spiked leather undies and ball gags. Even worse, rusting my collector's edition, engraved, pre-Y2k, Gateway 2000 nipple clamps.

Obviously it's time to use the safe word.

I may be a confirmed masochist, as evidenced by the four kids, the job, my choice of consumer electronics and now...Twitter, but enough is enough. I need a new refrigerator. Seven years of pain, frozen salad, iced up ice maker lines, overheating compressors, plastic bits falling off, $200 lightbulbs and the discovery that the cool electronic temperature setting control panel is actually a fake has led to this decision. I need a new mistress. One who uses fur-lined handcuffs and a quick-release hog-tie...and not so much whip that I'm embarrassed at the gym.

It's going to be a lot like dating, with less Craigslist and more Consumer Reports. The objective is to get fucked, but spend the smallest amount of money possible. Remember children, in the real world problems are solved by paying the lowest bidder 10% more than the highest bidder, and a nice water-based lubricant spiked with lidocane.

Unless you're buying a car, in which case you can forget the lube. Plus tax.

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Introducing "Shovel Buddy"


Since on-line Death Notice websites like this one are springing up all over, it seems to me that there is a bigger need out there than anyone realized.

Introducing :

SHOVELBUDDY make yourself respectable

Just add the shovelbuddy alias to your on-line death notification system and a registered, bonded, and disinterested third party will come to your house and remove all of your porn, sex toys, drugs and drug paraphernalia, home-made crotch shots, your stash of cheap booze, unfinished first novels, unregistered or illegal firearms and any hand written poetry and/or love letters.

Optional services include:

Underwear drawer sexing service. All white, slightly used, brand name undies of the correct sex.
Cosplay and/or Furry evidence mitigation. We "know" you were the High School mascot, but do your kids?
Blog/Internet Cache deletion. We'll clean and shred your browsing history after death.
Digital Shredding Services. Too much dirt to hide? Clean your hard drive to DOD specifications.
Mistress Management Insurance. How much will it take to keep her away from the funeral? Our experienced Risk managers and ex-politicians can help find you the right size policy.

...and much more...

Just email shovelbuddy"at"gmail"dot"com and one of our representatives will contact you.

Shovelbuddy is looking for YOU! Do you have what it takes to be discrete? Contact us for information!

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Oh no

Someone's been spying on me.

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I blame global warming


A man who climbed a spruce tree, tied himself to the trunk and shot himself dead has been discovered 29 years after the suicide

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I blame George Bush

endangered condors eating large numbers of a protected species of deer

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Hotel Schmotel


I got some beefs with this hotel. First, the bathroom is bigger than the sleeping area. Fine. I can deal with that. But the shower, a giant rectangle with floor to ceiling, swinging glass doors, doesn't have a handle on the inside of those doors. SO I get in yesterday, spend ten minutes trying to figure out how to turn on the damn thing, and when I'm finished I can't get out. It took me forever. I seriously thought I'd have to wait for housekeeping to come in and get me out.

When I do get out, the room is so big, the towels are twenty feet away. I have to walk a mile across the bathroom floor, in bare feet. The shower mat is about two foot square, there's no protection there. Yuck.

I just think a hotel named after someone who is famous for slutting around should provide some protection you know? A foot condom or two.

Certainly wouldn't hurt.

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