Friday, June 28, 2013

Dear John (6-28-13)


Hard Core Advise From
Hard Core’s Hardest Core… John Leslie


Dear John,
                Is there any connection between low vitamin D-3 levels (mine is 15) and weight gain? I recently caught the tail end of some doctor’s show on TV and I counted back:
                Summer of 2010, I started gaining weight. I was swimming a lot for exercise, and it was packing on pretty good. By fall, I was wearing “relaxed” jeans. My weight’s settled at 230 pounds, up from 170.
                In May, my D-3 had tested at 15. I was shocked. I already had a tan, and I was taking 1,000 IU daily, but I had been listless, useless, and just thought it was my age (I’m 85). It took more than six months to get it to 51, with me sometimes taking as much as 50,000 IU three times a week.
                So, tell me, is it the D-3? I’ll take my answer off the air.
                --Fatty, Fatty Two-By-Four

Dear Fatty,
                No, you’re just fat.
             

Dear John,
                Please, please, please help me.
                I’ve visited my allergist, the ear-nose-throat specialist, and my own internist. None of them has ever heard of my problem, and don’t know how to help me.
                Starting in 1990, every couple of months I would get an awful pain on one of my ears if I had been lying on it while I slept. It would happen to either ear, whichever one I lay on.
                The pain is so intense that it wakes me. It is not inside the ear, but around the edges of the entrance to it. It is so painful that I can’t touch it. It will be throbbing. The only thing that will make it go away is when I stand up. Within 30 minutes, the pain is gone.
                I just had an MRI done, and the reading showed no “growths,” at least according to my doctor.
                This ear pain, however, is starting to affect the quality of my life, since I don’t get seem able to get the restful sleep I need.
                --Ow!

Dear Ow!,
                Sleep on your BACK.
                Duh!
 

Dear John,
                I am a 57 year-old man with no siblings. My mother is deceased, however my 82 year-old father is physically healthy, except for his being in the early stages of dementia. He has a few hobbies to keep him busy, but for some reason he is obsessed with me, and has been all my life.
                Sometimes he’ll call me three or four times a day, even when I am right there sitting next to him. He insists that I go to his house every day, but when I get there he’ll make me stand outside and talk to him through the screen door.
                I know Dad is probably lonely, but so am I, since I can’t make any friends or even date due to his attitude and sharp tongue.
                Every day, he becomes more and more demanding, insisting I do things immediately, such as changing his colostomy bag, rather than when I have the time. He also had grown very mean-mouthed and pouts if he doesn’t get his way.
                This is getting to me, and putting a strain on my health.
                What do you suggest?
                --Sick & Tired

Dear Sick,
                When I woke up this morning, I was feeling pretty bad about myself. Thanks for making me feel better about my life.

 
Confidential To My Loyal Readers
You DO know I’m not a doctor, don’t you?
 
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Anal Probe Capital Of The World? ROSWELL!

I was at last year's UFO Festival in Roswell, NM when it happened. 
     I remember waking up on a metal surgical table in a futuristic-looking operating room.  Some kind of alien creature stood in front of me.  He--for lack of a better word--was very thin, with long skinny arms and legs.  He had a huge bald head with two big eyes.  There was something familiar about him.
     "Mayor Cook, is that you?" I asked.  It looked just like the former mayor of El Paso, TX.
     The creature chuckled menacingly, reached up , and with long, delicate fingers pulled off its Mayor Cook mask.  I couldn't tell the difference.  I looked around.  There were two more of its kind, whatever its kind was.  They reminded me of The Three Stooges, but from outer space.
     "Don't be afraid," the alien I thought of as Moe gently told me.  "We will not harm you."
     His words seemed to come--not from him--but from somewhere deep inside my own head.  There was a whirring sound above me.  A large, intimidating tool was descending from the ceiling.  I can't describe what it looked like in a family newspaper, but it was longer than it was wide, if you get my drift.  Sort of like the business end of an enema bag for Transformers.
     "What's that for?" I asked.  Larry, Curly, and Moe nudged each other childishly and giggled like naughty first-graders.
     "It's an anal probe, but it's better if you don't ask any questions."
     I shivered at his words...  and that's when I discovered I could move.  I sat up and hopped off the table.  They rushed toward me.  Too late.
     "How do you talk without speaking?" I asked.
     "From here," Moe pointed to the center point between his eyes, "we push our thoughts into your mind."
     "Oh, you do, do you?"  And--POW!--I punched him right in the kisser.  The back of his balloon-like head stretched out in the shape of my fist.  Moe made a funny kind of "woo, woo, woo" sound, and fell to his knees faster than Monica Lewinski in the Oval Office.  The other two jumped into each other's arms.  Their big bug eyes blinking furiously.  They were more nervous than a gerbil in a San Franciscan pet store.  I'm guessing this had never happened to them before.  I looked at them.  They looked fragile.  Weak.
     "This is gonna be easy," I thought to myself.
     Apparently they could also read my mind, because one of them said:  "Wait!  How will you get back home?"  I reached up and grabbed the anal probe.
     Let's just say I "convinced" them to take me back.
 

So what am I saying?  I'm saying go to the UFO Festival in Roswell, NM. 
You never know what might happen.
 
 


The Aw, Nuts! Humor Blog
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RasingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Monday, June 24, 2013

By Any Other Name

Well, the fix is in, and we're down to the Final Five.
     Names, that is.
     True to their word, the fine people who are bringing Triple-A baseball to El Paso, are giving El Pasoans the opportunity to vote on the name of the team. It began with everybody having the same chance to submit their suggestion of what the name should be, and then ended up with the MountainStar Sports Gang whittling it down to the one they want, and four that are so crappy no one would be stupid enough to vote for them.
     It could backfire, I suppose. The goof vote out there might actually vote in one of the names they don't want, but I doubt it. How can I be so sure?
     Well, I'll let you be the judge.
     The name I'm pretty sure they want to win is the El Paso Desert Gators, which I think is a pretty cool name, despite the fact that with there being no water in El Paso, there are certainly no alligators here. Still, a cool name is a cool name, even if it doesn't make any sense at all.
      The names I'm pretty sure they DON'T want to win begin (alphabetically) with the Aardvarks. That's right, Aardvarks. I remember, when I left El Paso to go to Stephen F. Austin College in Sherman, Texas, I was disappointed to find out that the college's mascot was the Kangaroos. They tried to toughen it up by calling them the Fighting Kangaroos, or the Fighting 'Roos, but there is no toughening up the goofy image of a kangaroo. Embarrassment, as much as lack of ability, probably played a part in how poorly our sport teams performed. An opponent would actually have to not show up, for us to have a chance of beating them. Take it from me, I once got into a fight with a kangaroo over a girl at a bar... they're not so tough.
     I always thought that there was no worse mascot you could possibly have than a Kangaroo... and then I heard we might be the Aardvarks. Like the alligator, I've never even seen an aardvark here in the southwest, so I'm pretty sure they don't live around these parts. I think they live in Detroit or something.
     The next name is the Buckaroos. There are a lot of things you can find in El Paso, Buckaroos aren't among them. I remember, as a kid, going out trick-or-treating one Halloween dressed as a Buckaroo.
     At one house I went to, the lady who came to the door asked me, "Hey, little Buckaroo, where are your Buccaneers at?"
     "Under my bucking hat," I answered.
     The El Paso Chihuahuas! There's nothing like naming yourself after a yappy little Mexican rat with self-esteem issues to strike fear into the heart of your opponent. Now that I think about it, with the majority of El Pasoans being of Latino heritage, it sounds rather racist, as well. You might as well call us the El Paso Refried Beaners.
     The Desert Gators comes next, but seeing as how I've already had my say about that name, I'll just move along to The El Paso Sun Dogs. That's a pretty cool name, too, but it makes no sense. Sun Dogs. Those two words belong together about as much as Military Intelligence.
     It's always sunny in El Paso, so the word Sun makes sense, but what exactly is a Sun Dog? That sounds like some kind of mangy flea-infested homeless mutt wandering around lost in the desert. Take it from me, due to my advance wisenheimers I'm constantly getting lost in the desert, and it doesn't make me want to play baseball, it makes me want to... nap.
     But it could be worse. I know that for a fact, because I had a look at the other 5,600+ names that were submitted, and they were about as lame as the list of flag words the NSA came up with to decide whether or not to conduct an illegal wiretap on your grammy.
     Here are a few:
     The El Paso Anal Warts! Actually, that one's pretty catchy, but the name was already copyrighted by Rosie O'Donnell.
     The El Paso Bloody Stools! The Festering Wounds! The Canker Sores! The Infected Growths! The Malignant Cancers! Now, that last one's pretty good. EVERYBODY fears cancer.
     The El Paso Crawling Maggots! While maggots aren't exactly fearsome, you must admit they ARE pretty creepy.
     The El Paso Stagnant Pond Scums! That name would only work if you could actually find a body of water out here that hasn't been dried up by the hundred-degree temperatures we've been suffering from.
     The El Paso Flatulent Flatulence! The Imminent Eminence. The I've-Fallen-And-I-Can't-Get-Ups! The Clem Kadiddlehoppers! I would suspect whoever suggested that last one had no particular reason other than he was a fan of Red Skelton.
     The El Paso al-Quida! The El Paso al-Queso! The El Paso al-Green! If any of these names had been chosen, I was assured by Alan Leadfoot, the president of the MSG, that he would have personally brought back Raymond J. Johnson Jr. from the dead to perform his "You Can Call Me Al" bit.
     "But he's not a real person," I told him.
     "What?"
     "He's not a real person. He's a character created by the comedian Bill Saluga, who, by the way, is still very much alive."
     "What?"
     "And it's not the 'You Can Call Me Al' bit. It's the 'You Doesn't Hasta Call Me Johnson' bit. It was Paul Simon who performed 'You Can Call Me Al.'"
     "Who?"
     "Paul Simon. You know, of Simon & Garfunkle."
     "Well, then I'll bring Paul Simon back from the dead!"
     But I digress...
     Since we'll be affiliated with The San Diego Padres, someone thought they'd be funny and submitted The El Paso 2Madres! I think the person who suggested that one was a guy by the name of Marty Coen.
     My personal favorite was The El Paso Ex-Wives! No one strikes fear into the heart of men like an ex-wife. On the subject of ex-wives, someone also suggested The El Paso Chupacabras! Along the same lines, it was once again Marty Coen who suggested The Chupachorizos!
     I personally suggested The El Paso Exclamation Points! I don't know, I just like using exclamation points.
     Someone decided to keep things simple and submitted the name... Bob. That someone was a guy named Bruce.
     Go figure.
     Personally, I think we should name our Triple-A baseball team after the most famous of the fierce Native American tribes, the brave Fakawi Indians. That way, when our Triple-A team leave their current hometown of Tucson, Arizona and step off the plane onto El Paso soil for the first time, they can look around in confusion at their new home, and proudly announce to the world:
     "We're the Fakawi!"


American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Friday, June 21, 2013

Dear John (6-21-13)


Hard Core Advise From
Hard Core’s Hardest Core… John Leslie

 
Dear John,
                A dear friend of mine is pregnant, which is fantastic news… but she smokes. She has cut way down since she got pregnant, and I admire her for that. However...
                She is incredibly sensitive about it. When people ask her about her smoking habit, it makes her incredibly angry and actually seems to make her want to smoke more. She knows she needs to quit, so continually telling her that will not work.
     What can I do that will encourage her to stop smoking, and not put her on the defensive.
     --Anxious

 Dear Anxious,
                I wouldn’t worry. In the Adult Film Industry, I’ve known “actresses” who are severely addicted to a variety of legal and non-legal drugs, and their fetuses are perfectly healthy when they abort them.


 Dear John,
                My daughter and son are 32 and 28 years-old, and I am looking for a good answer when people ask me why I don’t have any grandchildren.
                They have both been in long-term relationships in the past, although they aren’t involved with anyone now, so it’s not looking too promising.
                How do I respond when people bring this up?
                --Hopeful

Dear Hopeful,
                Tell them the truth, your kids are gay.


Dear John,
                This is for “Scared,” whose husband is depressed. Please tell her to have him tested for celiac disease. Depression is one of the symptoms.
                My husband was depressed for a long period of time and constantly threatened to take his own life. We were finally able to determine that he had celiac disease. He received the proper treatment, got better, and was perfectly healthy when he was run over by a truck.
                --Single

Dear Single,
                Don’t worry about “Scared.” She took my advice, called her husband’s bluff about committing suicide, and his funeral services are this Wednesday.


Confidential To Poor:
Then it’s a good thing you’re a boy, otherwise you’d have nothing to play with.


American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Little Mariachi Boy

2013
NBA Finals
Games Three
 
When Darius Rucker, formerly of the rock band Hootie & The Blowfish, failed to show up to sing the National Anthem, 11 year-old Sebastian De Las Cruz enthusiastically agreed to take his place.
This is his story.


The Little Mariachi Boy

"Come," they told me.
Pa rum pum pum pum
"We're stuck with no Hootie."
Pa rum pum pum pum
"In traffic he's stuck, you see."
Pa rum pum pum pum
"And we can't start Game Three."
Pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
So, I decided to
Pa rum pum pum pum
Have some fun.

Though I'm native
American-can,
I am Latino, too,
Part Mexican-can.
And singing's what I do.
Pa rum pum pum pum
Yes, my sombrero's new.
Pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Still, aren't we brothers?
Pa rum pum pum pum
Ev'ryone.

Then it started.
Pa rum pum pum pum
The racist jokes and tweets.
Pa rum pum pum pum
All meant to humble me.
Pa rum pum pum pum
But I'll just let them be.
Pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Why do they bother?
Pa rum pum pum pum
Boy, is that dumb.


When Darius Rucker finally did sing the National Anthem two games later, he showed up unshaven and wearing sloppy jeans, a sloppy t-shirt, and sloppy athletic shoes.
He looked like he had just woken up from bed, and didn't have time to change from the clothes he had fallen asleep in.
No  one complained.
Go figure.

 
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Monday, June 17, 2013

ALL You Can Eat

There's a study out that says humans, as a species, are living longer, but are fatter and less healthy.
     "Could this be true?" I wondered.
     I decided to find out for myself, so I called one of my ex-wives for a series of tests. She showed up at my house finishing off a bucket of the Colonel's finest. I opened the door to find her using a drumstick like a toothpick. She stored the rest of the bones for later.
     "They make good soup," she explained.
     She lumbered inside the house, and I explained to her what I wanted to do and why. She agreed enthusiastically.
     I tossed her a fish.
     The first thing I had her do was sit on my scooter. The engine was running, but as soon as she sat on it I could no longer hear the rumbling of the motor. Hmmm, that was interesting.
     "Okay," I told her, "you can get off it now."
     She did, but the scooter was no longer there. Like a magician, she had made it disappear. She didn't seem to notice.
     "Um... I just need to ask you a few questions," I stammered, "and we'll be done."
     "Can we do that over lunch or something?" she asked me. "I'm famished! Sitting on a scooter is hard work."
     I looked in my refrigerator. Then at her. Then in my pantry. Then at her. I decided to take her to a restaurant.
     "How about a buffet?" I asked her, noticing that she was eyeing my dog hungrily, so I tossed her a fish. "An all-you-can-eat buffet."
     That got her attention. The first restaurant we went to refused to let us in. So did the second. At the third, she told me to go inside and pay first.
     "If they ask you anything," she instructed me, "tell them I'm parking the car."
     So I did. When the owner of the restaurant saw her, he realized that he had been outsmarted.
     "No, no, no!" he tried to say, hands waving wildly in front of him in an effort to wave us away. She wasn't budging. It was the irresistible force against the immovable object.
     "It's too late," she informed him. "We've already paid. I know the law!"
      The owner began to cry.
     He looked over at the hostess and told her, "Tell the cook to add more MSG." He looked at my ex again, and then added, "As much as we got."
     My ex leaned near me, and whispered in my ear, "Oooh, I love MSG."
     The owner excused himself to go lock himself in his office. I thought I heard a loud bang, but I couldn't be sure. That noise could have just as easily come from the scooter's exhaust pipe, if you get my drift.
     We sat ourselves, and then we served ourselves, and then we talked as we ate.
     "Did you know," I asked her, "that according to a recent study, people are living longer?"
     "Oh," she said. "I don't like that. That's bad news."
     "It is?"
     "Sure, it is. People living longer equals more people. More people equals less food for me."
     "You know, I never thought about it that way," I told her.
     "Sure, just look at all the different food islands. The lines of people waiting to serve themselves have never been this long before."
     I looked around. It was true. The lines were pretty long. I looked at the cashier. The line was long there, too.
     "So, what do we do?" I asked her.
     I noticed her food input had begun to slow down. Maybe it was all that MSG she had consumed. She had eaten enough to poison a small African village.
     "You know, Jim," she told me, changing the subject somewhat, "I had a dream last night. I dreamt I went to an all-you-can-eat buffet. When I was done, I tried to get up, but found myself strapped to my chair. 'The sign says ALL you can eat,' the evil restaurant owner laughed, and began stuffing even more food in my mouth. I had no choice but to eat, so I ate and ate. My body expanded like a ballon being filled with water, bigger and bigger, until one more mouthful would have made me burst. That's when the crazy owner got off my chest, and put down the toilet plunger he was using to force food down my gullet. 'Okay,' he said, unstrapping me. 'I guess that is all you can eat.' I got up, wobbled a little bit on my feet, and walked over to the cashier to pay my bill. In a little tray by the cash register were some chocolate after-dinner mints. Well, who can resist an after-dinner mint? So I got one, unwrapped it, put it in my mouth... and I EXPLODED!"
     She paused, digesting her dream wistfully.
     "What a great dream," she said.
     She sat there, with a dreamy look in her eyes. I didn't know what to say...
     ...so I tossed her a fish.


American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  

Friday, June 14, 2013

No More Rumsfeld's Rules

No More Rumsfeld's Rules
 

     1) It's not the size of the dog in the fight. It's the size of the dick on the dog in the fight..

     2) Katie Couric and Rachel Ray. Now that's two tons of fun!

     3) I'm not saying I have a big ego. I'm just saying it graduated from high school a year before I did.

     4) Before you release your sex-tape, make sure you get the other person's permission first.

     5) Those Georgia O'Keefe flower paintings have always reminded me of something, but I've never been able to put my finger on it.

     6) Always keep a gun in your pocket in case someone asks you, "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"

     7) Sure, the smell of napalm in the morning might remind you of victory, but it's nothing compared to the smell of a decomposing body.

     8) When I'm bored, I like to call up Colin Powell and ask him if his refrigerator's running.

     9) I like my coffee like I like my... wait a minute, let me rephrase that.

     10) There's no shame in performing a homosexual act. The shame comes afterward.

     11) For the record, the Virgin Mary was a bit of a nag. After all, didn't she ride Joseph's ass all the way to Bethlehem?

     12) At my age, I can no longer pick up hot, young girls. That's why I abduct them.

     13) A pick-up line that's always worked for me is: "Scream, and I'll shoot."

     14) My wife never forgave me for the children we had that I killed and ate.

     15) My biggest regret in life is that I never put Dick Cheney down like the rabid dog he was.

     16) I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. And then I laughed and laughed and laughed.

     17) A nice fire will warm your cockles, as well as get rid of all the evidence.

     18) If you hear breathing, you need to squeeze a little tighter.

     19) Just where are these "shadows" that the illegal Mexicans are hiding in? The government can't find them. The IRS can't find them. The NSA, the CIA, the FBI, and UPS can't find them. The "shadows" is where I want to live.

     20) You know that song I Hate Everything by George Strait? I know how he feels.

     21) When you drown someone, always hold their head under water a minute longer than you think you need to. They could be faking.

     22) What do I call Michael Vick when he leaves the room? An amateur.

     23) If there's a job you don't want to do, hire an illegal alien. And when they're done, instead of paying them, call Immigration.

     24) Nature abhors a vacuum. And so does Hillary Clinton.

     25) For the record, it's not true that I didn't go to Viet Nam. I went there for the whores.

    
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  


Thursday, June 13, 2013

Still More Rumsfeld's Rules

Still More Rumsfeld's Rules    


     1) If I have seen far, it's because I have stood on the shoulders of giants... and bashed in their heads with a club.

     2) When you think about it, just what are baby seals good for anyway?

     3) I never said Hitler was right, I just said he had a good idea, was all.

     4) Don't look directly into my eyes. It's safer that way.

     5) Can somebody get me Jodi Arias's phone number?

     6) I'm proud to say that, unlike Jeffrey Dahmer, I've never eaten human flesh.

     7) If somebody else reaches for that last drumstick of chicken, it's perfectly all right to stab them in the hand with your fork.

     8) Dork? No, I said, "fork." Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

     9) If you don't want your roommate to think you're queer, stay on your side of the shower.

     10) At an orgy, it's bad manners to talk with your mouth full.

     11) I've found that bleach does the best job of getting rid of stubborn blood stains.

     12) DNA can link any man to any crime he may have committed. Thank God I wasn't born with any DNA.

     13) It's okay for a man to cry. As long as that man doesn't mind me calling him a pathetic little crybaby.

     14) If someone doesn't want to do things your way, rip off their ear and show it to them. You'll be amazed at how quickly they change their mind.

     15) There are easier ways to kill a man than skinning him alive.

     16) I've never met Larry King, but I like to imagine myself having sex with him.
 
     17) Take it from me, popping a man's eyeballs out of their sockets will take the fight right out of him.

     18) The greatest poet of the 20th century is Luther Campbell from Two Live Crew.

     19) God gave a man ten fingers so you can cut one finger off, and he'll still have nine more opportunities to change his mind.

     20) For the record, I never said I admired the Ku Klux Klan. What I said was, I wonder how they get their sheets so white.

     21) Some people said that in my last book I re-wrote history. That's why those people are dead.

     22) Some people think Dick Cheney was the real power behind the throne in the Bush Administration, but I'm here to tell you Bush was the guy in charge. And I'm not just saying that because Cheney told me to.

     23) Remember, it's pinch the nose and then cover the mouth.

     24) I always leave my front door open. I like to encourage intruders.

     25) Is it bragging for me to say I use Magnum condoms?

    
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Even More Rumsfeld Rules

Even More Rumsfeld's Rules


     1) Who's this "Ben Ghazi" I keep hearing so much about?

     2) People think Dick Cheney was the real power behind the throne in the Bush administration, but I'm here to tell you... Bush was the man in charge. And I'm not just saying that because Cheney told me to.

     3) Remember: It's pinch the nose, and then cover the mouth.

     4) You'd be surprise at how easily a person's ear tears off their head.

     5) In the western days, you could kill your wife, say she died from TB, and that would be the end of that.

     6) Do me a favor, casually look over my shoulder... is there somebody following me?

     7) Being careful is not the same thing as being paranoid.

     8) Instead of taking Omega-3 supplements, try attaching a fish directly onto your arm.

     9) The number 666? That's just an unfortunate birth mark.
 
     10) Some people say I have no soul. Of course I do. The Devil's just taking care of it for me, is all.

     11) You have nothing to fear, but fear itself. And me.

     12) It pays to know where a man's jugular vein is.

     13) There's no greater satisfaction than hunting another man. I mean, hunting with another man. Yeah, that's what I meant.

     14) If you're drunk, then it doesn't count.

     15) I've never had sex with a man. (I mean, Justin Bieber's not a man, right?)

     16) You know that trick where a magician fires a gun at his partner, and his partner catches the bullet between his teeth? Well, I need a new partner.

     17) When God told Abraham to sacrifice his son, and then, at the last second, stopped him... that's when I lost all respect for God.

     18) Gilligan's Island? Why don't they make quality television like that anymore?

     19) If you tied to kill me by driving a stake through my heart, you'd be wasting your time. I got rid of it years ago.

     20) Am I saying I don't have a heart? Damn skippy! I got rid of that nuisance years ago.

     21) I don't see anything  wrong with drinking baby's blood to stay alive.

     22) Man up and tell your snot-nosed little tax-deductions that there's no Santa Claus.

     23) I told my kids right from the start that there was no Santa Claus. "Then who brings us our toys?" "Satan!"

     24) You know those movies where Santa Claus exists, but adults don't believe in him? How can they not believe in him? He's right there, you putz!

     25) Some people, when they want to get rid of a body, chop it up into little pieces. That's too much work. That's why I have dogs.

    
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

More Rumsfeld's Rules

More Rumsfeld's Rules


     1) If you don't like someone, hide a dead fish in their car. It'll drive them nuts trying to figure out where that awful smell is coming from.

     2) I'm not saying I killed Jimmy Hoffa. I'm just saying mine was the last face he ever saw.

     3) If God knows everything, then, boy, am I in trouble.

     4) To properly crack open someone's head with a hammer, make sure you use enough force. It's not as easy as you might think.

     5) Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and you're a dead man.

     6) When you drink tea, don't forget to lift your little pinky.

     7) Am I a man who dreamed I was a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming I am a man? No, I'm just a man who enjoys killing butterflies.

     8) I saw a movie where James Cagney shoved a grapefruit into a woman's face. Now, that's how you treat a woman.

     9) For the record, it's not a good idea to dry your pet cat in the microwave.

     10) Go ahead and let your baby eat a habanero chili pepper. It'll teach the little bugger a good lesson.

     11) I like to kill things with my bare hands just before I go to bed. It puts me in the mood, if you get my drift.

     12) I don't care what anyone says, Shemp was the funniest Stooge.

     13) Internal organs? Who needs 'em?

     14) Politics is easy. Smiling is hard.

     15) I think I've got this "acting human" thing down pat.

     16) Isn't it amazing that your hands fit so naturally around another person's neck?

     17) It's been my experience that it's best not to listen to your parents. They'll say anything to keep you from killing them.

     18) There's a perfectly good reason why you never see me with my wife. Having said that, how about you just mind your own damn business.

     19) It's difficult to get water at just the right temperature to scald, but not leave any lasting marks.

     20) The early bird gets the worm. I like worms.

     21) What are YOU looking at?

     22) I'm for illegal immigration. Illegals make good targets.

     23) Were there aliens in Roswell? Not after I got done with them.

     24) Indians didn't invent scalping. White men did that. Yeah, good times.

     25) Whatever you do, DON'T dishonor your country. That's MY job.

    
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  

Monday, June 10, 2013

Rumsfeld's Rules

When I worked as a ghost writer on former President George Bush's auto-biography (See Decision Putz. Posted on 12-9-11.), I didn't think it would lead me to work on Dick Cheney's book (See Cheney. Dick Cheney. Posted on 9-11-11.) or Joe McGinniss's book about Sarah Palin (See Sarah Palin, Superstar. Posted on 10-1-11.), and I certainly didn't think it would lead me to work once again with Donald Rumsfeld.
     You see, Rumsfeld took an instant dislike to me the first time his eyes met mine. I think it had something to do with my friendship with President Bush, but I can't really say for sure.
     The first time Rumsfeld and I met, he had called me into his office for a private one-on-one meeting about concocting a plausible scenario for invading Afghanistan. This was back in January of the year 2000. I confidently walked into his office and plopped myself down on the leather-bound, burgundy colored chair positioned perfectly in front of the desk he was sitting behind.
    My mistake. He hadn't ordered me to.
     "I don't recall telling you that you could sit," he snarled.
     What was I? A dog?
     "You didn't," I answered him back, "but you strike me as the kind of man who doesn't like to waste a perfectly good chair."
     When he found out Bush and I were frat brothers at Faber College for the Delta Tau Chi fraternity, well, that sealed my fate. I was persona non gordita in his eyes.
     So it came as a surprise when he reached out to me to help him with his latest book ("Just make sure it eats a lot of pages."). After all, he didn't ask for my help with his memoir, Known And Unknown, and we all know what a snooze-fest that one turned out to be.
     I think I did a formidable job, considering what I had to work with, but what I found most interesting were the "rules" he decided to leave out.
     Judge for yourself.

Rumsfeld's Rules


     1) Don't look too closely at me. I appear more human that way.

     2) Oh, how I envy the Tin Man.

     3) Girls? Boys? It makes no never mind to me.

     4) A close shave is a beautiful thing. If you can talk her into it.

     5) Don't worry about the Secret Service. They're trained not to "see" anything.

     6) Scented candles are good at masking the odor of Preparation H.

     7) I once kissed Mick Jagger. Don't worry, it was the 60's and I thought he was a girl. Anyway, if you're going to kiss a guy, make sure his lips are as soft as Mick Jagger's. It was like kissing two big, fluffy pillows.

     8) If you murder someone, make sure you bury the body DEEP.

     9) If you're going to steal, steal from someone who can't do anything about it. Like the American tax-payer.

     10) Don't use too much cocaine. It won't let you "cross the finish line" in the  bedroom, if you get my drift.

     11) Colin Powell's a punk, and Donald Rumsfeld don't truck with no punks.

     12) The only man I've ever feared was Dick Cheney.

     13) God forgives. I don't.

     14) Women are a dime a dozen. At least my mom was.

     15) The only woman I've ever loved was the Octomom.

     16) When you're being followed, pretend you don't notice, then, at the first opportunity, snap their neck like a twig.

     17) If Hillary Clinton invites you to her house for a home-cooked meal, don't eat her "special" cucumber salad. Trust me on this.

     18) I don't like Jehovah Witnesses because I don't like any witnesses.

     19) If you ever hug an underaged girl, just make sure you get her parent's approval first.

     20) Hitler? He wasn't such a bad guy.

     21) When it comes to getting jiggy with it, learn to hold your breath for... well, you know.

     22) When I pick-up a girl at a bar, I like to check her "package" before I take her home. I don't like "surprise parties."

     23) I once shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. Not really. I just always wanted to say that.

     24) When you think about it, water-boarding actually sounds fun. Cowabunga, baby!

     25) What's the difference between Hitler and Michael Phelps? Michael Phelps knows how to finish a race.


American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  

Friday, June 7, 2013

Horrorscope


Happy Birthday
You are one day closer to death.
 
If you were born on this date, you can look forward to a long life full of happiness and prosperity.
Just as long as you don’t listen to those voices in your head telling you to kill.
 
 
Also Born On This Date:
Jeffrey Dahmer, John Wayne Gacy, Jodi Arias, Ariel Castro, al-Qaida
 
 
Aries
(March 21-April 19)
What’s that mole on your skin?
Hmmm… it looks like cancer.

 
Taurus
(April 20-May 20)
 When you go to sleep at night, be sure to close your closet door all the way.
That’s how the clown gets in.

 
Gemini
(May 21-June 20)
What’s sharper? A straight razor or a surgeon’s scalpel?
Don’t know?
Don't worry about it… you’re about to find out.
 
 
Cancer
(June 21-July22)
Isn’t it ironic that your astrological sign is also cancerous?

 
Leo
(July 23-August 22)
Are you the kind of person who thinks it would be fun to have your throat sliced open with a dull blade of some kind?
No?
Then you’re not going to like your fortune for today.

 
Virgo
(August 23-September 22) 
That’s an official-looking letter you’ve got there. Hmm, it looks like it’s from the IRS.

 
Libra
(September 23-October 22)
Do you ever suddenly wake up in the middle of the night for no reason with the feeling that someone is watching you?
That’s because somebody is.
Clowns.

 
Scorpio
(October 23-November 21)
Oh, my, you should have used protection.
I don’t want to tell you what your one-night stand had, but it rhymes with “maids.”

 
Sagittarius
(November 22-December 21)
The good news is: your child doesn’t have behavioral problems.
The bad news is… you’d better call an exorcist.

 
Capricorn
(December 22-January 19)
There’s a tiny bug that likes to climb into the ear canal of humans while they sleep. It then spends the rest of its short life eating away at the unfortunate victim’s brain tissue, causing that person excruciating pain. Eventually, they do stop…
…to lay eggs.

 
Aquarius
(January 20-February 18)
There's no such thing as zombies. 
That guy's probably  just a drunk.

 
 Pisces
(February 19-March 20)
Wasn’t your daughter supposed to be home by now? I’m sure she’s okay.
Hey, are those sirens I hear?
  
Thought For The Day:
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room.
There was a knock at the door.
  
 
 American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Dear John (6-5-13)

Hard Core Advice From
Hard Core's Hardest Core... John Leslie


Dear John,
     I am in my 20's and am engaged to a beautiful girl. Our religion prohibits sex before marriage, but what religion doesn't, eh? Anyway, when we're making out and my fiancĂ© (I'll call her Betty," since that's her name) tells me to stop, like the energizer Bunny, I keep on going and going and going. I don't know what the big deal is, but Betty tells me that when she says no, she means NO.
     The last time we were making out, she told me to stop. I didn't, so she slapped me on my cheek! And I don't mean on the fun one. It felt like I had been stung by a bee, and, believe me, I know what bee stings feel like. Besides not stopping when my fiancĂ© tells me to, I also have the annoying habit of poking at bee-hives with long sticks. Anyway, Betty said she had no choice.
     My cousin told me that in a dating situation, it's always the woman who sets the rules, and it's her prerogative to say no, and even slap you on your cheek (and I don't mean the fun one) if she has to.
     What do you think?
     --Frustrated

Dear Frustrated,
You're getting married, you say? Then I think you'd better get used to hearing the word "no" a lot.

Dear John,
     I'm a 13 year-old girl. Last night, my mom and I decided to watch a movie together at home. My mom was tired from a long, hard day at work. To make a long story short, she fell asleep.
     I am just wondering, is there is a proper etiquette about  falling asleep during a movie?
     --Wondering

Dear Wondering,
One time, a date of mine fell asleep while we were watching a movie at my apartment. Let's just say that she won't be making THAT mistake again.

Dear John,
     I believe you missed the boat with your answer to "Irritated," who said she was irritated by a woman who continuously carried on a cell phone conversation during a funeral. You said it was impolite, even if she was the widow, but that the cell phone could have been put on "mute" or "vibrate" or something.
     We have lost all sensitivity to others. At funerals, weddings, movies, and church services. Cell phones should be left at home or in the car. If something is so important that one must stay connected, one should not attend the function.
     Not so long ago cell phones didn't exist, and we still...

RING!
    
Dear...
Excuse me, but this might be important.
"Hello?"

Confidential To TV Addict
Sorry, but you're wrong. The name of the dog on The Brady Bunch was Alice.
 
 
American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
  

Monday, June 3, 2013

I AM The 47%

Ever since I've decided to become part of Romney's infamous 47%, I must admit... I don't know why I didn't do this sooner!
     I've spent my whole life working hard for what I have, and, trust me, you don't know what hard work is until you've overthrown a foreign government. And what did I have to show for it? Nothing. Just the money I've hidden in the same overseas banks Romney keeps his money in.*
     It's like those homeless people who die, and when the authorities go through their belongings to see what they can "confiscate," they find tens of thousands of dollars hidden in the grocery carts they call home.
     Let me tell you, money that you have to hide is like not having any money at all.
     Why, just the cost of my children's college alone has nearly driven me to the poor house. Of course, the car would be a Cadillac and the house would be in Beverly Hills, but you get the idea.
     Being an "independent contractor" for the United States government pays well, but it won't make you rich. You have to go into politics for that.
     Now, my children go to college for free!
     My youngest daughter, she just went to the orthodontist for braces. Five thousand one hundred dollars it was going to cost me.
     "I'm one of the 47%," I told them.
     "No charge," they told me.
     Ka-ching!
     My house payments? Paid for. Maid and lawn service? Paid for.**** I even have the internet, Netflix, and an ObamaPhone.
     I collect unemployment, even though I've never actually held a legitimate job my entire life. How do I accomplish this? Well, I shouldn't be telling you this, but I find a job, immediately get fired for not showing up to that job, and then I collect unemployment for myself for the next six months. Maybe more.*****
     My car's paid for. So's my gas. How? Well, how else am I supposed to go look for a job? How is it that the Democrats understand that simple fact, and you don't? This summer, I plan on looking for a job in Paris, with my lovely wife.
     She's one of the 47%. too.
     Ka-ching!
     Life's gotten a lot sweeter since I've decided to stop being a tax-payer, and started being a tax-receiver. You know, like Congress.
     Why did I do this? Well, here's a little lesson about life, my friend: Why stop to smell the roses, when you can stop and let the government pay you for smelling the roses? In other words, if you find yourself in the middle of a riot... join the rioters! Why would you want to be a part of the crowd who gets beaten up and robbed?
     I used to pull out my hair at the end of every month trying to figure out how to pay my bills. Now I don't have to pay anything.
     The electric company came by the other day to either collect what I owed them or turn off my electricity.
     "I'm one of the 47%," I told them.
     "Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?" they told me, and simply moved my name from one column on their clip board to another, and now I can use as much electricity as I want. Same with water. We're in the middle of a drought, but I can waste as much of the limited fluid as I want, and nobody cares? It's been reported that El Paso will run out of water in less than twenty years. Do I care? No. I'll just move to San Francisco where they really know how to treat the 47%. Especially the homeless 47%.  
     All this leeching off the government is hard work, and sometimes I need some stress relief.******
     "Feel like getting lucky tonight, sweetheart?" I ask my lovely wife.
     "Not tonight," she tells me. "I have a headache."
     "But I'm one of the 47%."
     "Go tell it to Obama," she said, so I did.
     Did you know the government will cover the cost for your sex therapists? Well, it does.
     Ka-ching!


*Sayonara, Mubarek.
**Don't judge me. I'm not running for President.  
***Which I tried once, but when I snapped my opponent's neck during a heated debate... well, let's just say that ended my political ambitions.
****Ow! My aching back!*
*****Go, Obama!
******Doctor visits? Paid for, suckers!

*(Heh, heh.)


American Chimpanzee
jimduchene.blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
@JimDuchene