Friday, January 24, 2014

I'm NOT a Belieber! and Other Stupid Stuff

As usual this was one of those weeks where many things demand my attention…
Just between you, me, and a bottle of bourbon, how can we not help but be flag waving Americans when we wake to hear that the simple-minded singing Canadian carbuncle, Justin Bieber, has been arrested in Miami for drag racing, driving drunk, and being a colossal 19 year-old pain in the ass.  This little nitwit has way too much discretionary income!  He gets arrested in a rented Lamborghini that he can't get out of second gear after a night of extended underage drinking at a South Beach strip club.  He has no money for bail thanks to some very talented pole workers who earlier managed to make several hundred of his one dollar bills disappear into their undies.   Yet, as you can see by his dippy mug shot,  the little bastard had enough hair "product" to add about a foot to his diminished stature.  Who does he think he is?  Sinatra?  We need to send this steaming pile of sled dog dookie back to the Yukon where he can hang with his husky buddy, Toronto's Mayor Rockin' Rob Ford.
Send us your oil Canada, not this no talent midget whose singing is reminiscent of a basset hound getting an enema.
IN OTHER MORE SPICY NEWS…


A barely noted result of the war in Syria is the booming market in cumin now being enjoyed by India.  It was news to me that Syria was India's largest rival in exporting the spice that is a key ingredient in Middle Eastern and Mediterranean cuisines.  Apparently this godawful smelly condiment now sells for around two bucks a pound instead of the former price of $1.48.  Good for India, I guess.  Personally, I hate the stuff.  They can slip a pinch of it into my order at a Mexican restaurant but the maximum strength dosage present in Indian food keeps me on the other side of the Chuckwagon.  How could anybody eat a piping hot plate full of what smells like locker ripened gym shorts?  I'm not fussy but I can pretty much guarantee that it's not likely I'll be caught face down in a bowl of curry at Jai's Taj Mahal in this lifetime.  My wife and I once briefly rented an apartment on East Sixth Street on Manhattan's Lower East Side only later to learn the hard way why it's referred to as "Little India".  The curse of the curry still haunts me.  May the shortage continue.


IN OTHER DISTURBING DEVELOPMENTS...
From the "Where was this invention twenty years ago?" department we have the new matchbook-sized camera called the Narrative.  This little beauty costs $279 and is about the size of an Apple Ipod nano.  All you need do is clip the Narrative to the front of your shirt or blouse and it simply takes a photo of whatever is in front of you every 30 seconds.  That works out to more than 2000 snaps a day that can be downloaded to your phone or computer to provide evidence of an interesting or not so interesting day.
I can see this item becoming a key piece of evidence in divorce proceedings and other forms of tort bar entertainment.   Wayward husbands beware!  It haunts me still to recall cocktail fueled conversations in the 1970's and 80's with my old pal Bill Moffitt regarding this camera idea.   At that time we were merely speculating on the cost of hiring a full time video crew to follow us around so that we might be able to recall what we had done on a given day and thus defend ourselves or run for cover, whichever seemed prudent. Bill and I deemed it a stroke of genius at the time.  Later we determined that it was merely a stroke with no genius to it.  We quickly scrapped the idea not so much because of the cost but  to leave open the option of seeking public office at some time in the future.  
Yes, we were drunk.
The "Narrative"…the ultimate tattletale.

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