Now, A Word From Our Sponsors

I’ll admit it, I watch too much TV.  Unlike lots of folks, I don’t just sit there like a potted plant.  I constantly complain about bad plots, breaks in continuity, and of course, commercials.  The gap between the imaginary world of advertisers and reality drives me nuts. Whining to my wife and dog isn’t enough; I’ve got to write entire blog posts about it.

Initial translations were assigned to commandments and such, but recent interpretations actually show the ancients were using the tablets to play soduko on the couch. (Image from flickr dot com)
Initial translations were thought to be  commandments and such, but recent interpretations actually show the ancients were using the tablets to play sudoku on the couch. (Image from flickr dot com)

Tablets/Laptops

Ad Portrayal: Tablet users design surf boards, organize food drives and find sources of potable water for refugees in the Sudan.  They also use their tablets to take pictures of breathtaking scenery and refer to online astronomy charts while out in the wilderness at night (Despite being a million miles from anywhere, there’s a good WiFi signal).

Harsh Reality:  Tablet users are playing Bubble Witch Saga, watching porn in the powder room, or checking Facebook for likes on recently posted photos of their cats and/or nephews.  They occasionally “lose” the tablet just to keep the kids from hogging it.

Pick-Up Trucks

Ad Portrayal:  Pick-Up owners are driving to work sites, parking entirely too close to the hearth at the steel mill, and generally playing key roles in building the infrastructure that makes this country great.  The guy doing the voice-over sounds like he’s from somewhere in the Rockies, unless it’s Dennis Leary who sounds like Dennis Leary.

Harsh Reality:  No one is allowed to put anything dirty in the back of Dad’s truck, including but not limited to: mulch, play sand or lumber.  Despite the truck being equipped with Bluetooth for safe, hands-free communication, Dad never answers when his brother-in-law calls because he needs help moving.

This photo serves to illustrate both pick up trucks and SUV's towing boats.  You can thank me later for killing fewer digital trees to illustrate my blog.  (Image from allfail dot com)
This photo serves to illustrate both pick up trucks and SUV’s towing boats. You can thank me later for killing fewer digital trees to illustrate my blog. (Image from allfail dot com)

SUV’s

Ad Portrayal:  SUV drivers navigate through mud, snow and over all sorts of rugged terrain as children play happily in the back seat.  Dads reconnect with their children by taking the whole family to the Grand Tetons while towing expensive looking boats.

Harsh Reality: There are damn few boulder fields in suburbia.  A few weeks ago, one of the kids dropped an almond butter and jelly sandwich behind one of the fold down rear seats. It smells like it might be fermenting.  Having these killer car payments often prevents SUV owners from buying so much as a dinghy to tow.

This is either an old fashioned restaurant, or a bunch of craftsmen getting wasted after hours in the cobbler's shop (Image from zazzle dot com)
This is either an old fashioned restaurant, or a bunch of craftsmen getting wasted after hours in the cobbler’s shop (Image from zazzle dot com)


Restaurants

Ad Portrayal:  Healthy, good-looking people have incredibly tasty looking food delivered by a perky, knowledgeable waitress.  There are frosty pints of beer handy to wash it down.  The diners look like they’re having so much fun, they might not even get around to actually eating anything.  The camaraderie is so thick, you can cut it with one of the handy butter knives.

Harsh Reality:  The waitress has a hairy mole on her cheek and an Eastern European accent which make the specials at this Tex Mex joint sound like they are composed of boiled cabbage and beet greens.  Our trio of diners could each stand to drop twenty pounds.  The patrons at a nearby table are loud, and not in a good way.  Somewhere else in Svetlana’s section, a small child wails in his high-chair and throws re-fried beans with reckless abandon while his parents pretend not to notice.

E.D.. Medications – Single Dose

Ad Portrayal:  A rugged-but-sensitive looking guy finishes fixing a broken section of barbed wire fence out on the back forty.  His pick-up truck gets stuck in a muddy rut on the dirt road.  He ties the draft horse from his trailer to the front of the pick up and pulls himself back onto dry land. His MacGyver-like solution to the dilemma is clearly just another day in the life of a fellow who gets things done.  He looks like he might be the guy doing the voice-over work on the truck commercials when he’s not working his ranch (but not like Dennis Leary).  He pulls up in front of the cozy farmhouse, where the warm lights in the windows are a symbol for the waiting arms of the gorgeous woman who awaits him.  If “Old Yeller” aint up for hunting , MacGyver can fix that too.

Harsh Reality:  Misinterpreting his wife’s sleeping moans as those of desire, Mr. Fixit slips into the bathroom and pops a little blue pill.  Upon returning to the bedroom his wife is silent and there is unpleasantly aromatic evidence that her moaning was not actually desire-related at all, but rather directly tied to the sizable amounts of pinto beans in her meal earlier at the Tex Mex joint.  Despite the lack of romance in the air, the pill does it’s job.  After some grumbling, the husband decides to sleep on the couch, and maybe catch up on some emails on the tablet.

Kim Kardashian in my post; Check!  Cialis and Viagra in my post: Check! and Check!
Kim Kardashian in my post; Check! Cialis and Viagra in my post: Check! and Check!  All three put in my tags to shamelessly boost blog hits; C.H.E.C.K !!!

E.D.. Medications – Daily Use

Ad Portrayal:  Another good-looking guy sorts through boxes in the attic with his wife and stumbles upon a well-worn record album.  His wife, despite looking like she is a generation younger than him, is immediately touched by the guy’s selection of the music (which would likely be relevant to only one of them).  They commence to slow dancing among the boxes as late afternoon sun slants into the storage space.  The picture fades to dark, and we all know what comes next.

Harsh Reality:  The guy takes these pills everyday, along with fish oil and baby aspirin.  When cleaning the attic, he comes across a record album.  He cannot play it, as he hasn’t had a turntable since his junior year of college.  He shows his wife the album.  After a moment, she berates him for keeping old crap and tells him to put it in the junk pile.  The daily-use ED medications will later be expelled from his body,  as he sits in the powder room, trying to reach the next level of Bubble Witch Saga on his tablet.

 

Once Upon A Time…

1pointperspective:

It’s my turn yet again over at The Nudge Wink Report. I was originally going to write something brilliant, but decided it was too much work and settled instead for mediocrity (again). For you non-blogging types, it’s still me, I’m just writing somewhere else. It’s okay to read it – you don’t have to feel like you’re betraying me.

Originally posted on The Nudge Wink Report:

No, this isn't one of the illustrations, but it gives you an idea.  The publishing "professionals" thought putting hi-balls and cigarettes in the paws of beloved children's book characters was a bad idea.  (Illustration by the author - again.  I'm going to use this drawing till people get sick of it).
No, this isn’t one of the illustrations, but it gives you an idea. The “publishing professionals” thought putting hi-balls and cigarettes in the paws of beloved characters like the Easter Bunny was a bad idea. (Illustration by the author – again. I’m going to use this drawing till people get sick of it.  Are we there yet?).

I’ve had this children’s book kicking around in my head for years now (When you stop snickering, we can continue. I’ll wait). I’ve got the rough draft done, and a few sketches for the illustrations, but have yet to reach the point of submitting a draft to any publishers. I’m not sure that in these times of political correctness and hyper-sensitivity that writing a half decent book for the young ‘uns is even possible. To test my theory, I submitted a few plot lines to a publisher* to see what kind of feedback…

View original 983 more words

Great Aunt Tilda Was A “Rough Rider”?

Obscure Sexual Acts 1850’s – 1930’s

We may not care to admit it, but the variety of bizarre human sexual practices here on the planet are nearly as interesting as the names they’re given.  Perverse behaviors such as the “Blind Mailman” or the “Dirty Sippy Cup” are as intriguing to some of us as they are disgusting to others.  Many are christened with geographic names, such as the “Cincinnati Barstool” or the infamous “Biloxi Shrimp Boat“, effectively tainting entire regions.

People may believe that the assigning of names for deviant sex acts is something new, but this is far from the truth.  In my research, I’ve discovered quite a few from bygone days.  I’ve restricted myself to obsolete American sex acts.  I wouldn’t want to imply that this isn’t a global phenomenon – it’s just that my fluency in foreign languages can best be described as “c’est merde“.

I’m too interested in keeping my blog’s R rating to go into much detail at to what these feats of depravity entail – I’ll leave it to the lurid imaginations of my gentle readers (For the record, a “Gentle Reader” is not some sort of deviant sexual thing, it’s just a couple of words – stop jumping ahead!).  If your curiosity overwhelms you, click this link to find a graphic description of what each and every one of these decadent acts includes, complete with diagrams, lubrication charts and legal disclaimers.

The Millard Fillmore” – This one had it all.  It referred to a president and included the words “lard” “fill” and “more“.  This was one of the first, but certainly not the last of President-related sex-act names which also included one called a “Chester Arthur” and another affectionately known as “The Tricky Dick“.

A 23 Skidoo” – It should be noted that this particular bit of naughtiness was popular long before modern laundry equipment was available to most Americans.

If you got a poker face, put it on a dime.  (Image from sodahead dot com)
If you got a poker face, put it on a dime. (Image from sodahead dot com)

The New Deal” – Unlike the political plan of the same name, the dirty version of this involves a standard deck of playing cards, a few strategically placed poker chips and a book-keeper’s visor.

The Great Depression” – Thought to have originated among bored denizens at the end of soup lines, this one involved “hanging” around and looking for “work”.  It may or may not be related to today’s version “A Home Depot Apron

An Oklahoma Dustbowl” – This creepy bit of adults-only shenanigans requires a substantial amount of talcum powder and good hand-eye coordination.

Contrary to urban legend, "The Popeye" does not involve the use of yams.  (Image from wikia dot com)
Contrary to urban legend, “The Popeye” does not involve the use of yams. (Image from wikia dot com)

A Popeye” – Alternatively known as “A Canful of Spinach in Your Corncob Pipe” – This particular piece of raunchy behavior employs a good deal of olive oil and a few well-placed cheeseburgers.

Shave and a Haircut – 2 Bits” – This one was popular among the thrill seekers of its time, as the invention of the safety razor was still years away.  See also – “Lizzie Borden’s Bib

A Sticky Rumble Seat” – As the name implies this one is not for neat freaks or those who have a problem with “exhaust fumes”.

Smoking jacket - check. Necktie - check Eager expression on face - CHECK! (Image from anusha dot com)
Smoking jacket – check.
Necktie – check.
Eager expression on face – CHECK!
(Image from anusha dot com)

A Big Bambino” – Babe Ruth was known nearly as well for his off-field excesses as he was his home runs.  “A Big Bambino” requires several bottles of hooch, a catcher’s mask and someone to play the part of “Mrs. Gehrig”.

Seward’s Folly” – Better known as “A Baked Alaska” – This one is truly disturbing.  Sarah Palin will want to distance herself from her beloved home state if this ever comes back into fashion.

Thanks to the handy lid and EZ Grip handle, this thing won't spill even during your most death-defying barrel rolls.  (Image from ebay dot ca)
Thanks to the handy lid and E-Z Grip handle, this thing won’t spill even during your most death-defying barrel rolls. (Image from ebay dot ca)

The Lindy Hop” – This was originally the name of a popular dance, which also came to identify as a bizarre  act of lewdness which involved flying solo and peeing in bottles.

Coming soon, the 1940’s through the 1970’s.  Stay tuned!

Please enjoy this YouTube clip of some actual Lindy Hop action – it’s safe for work and pretty damn impressive.  Click Link

Not A Peep Outta You

peeps
Sure they’re cute now, but give them a few weeks – Photo by the author

 

It’s that time of the year again when people buy these hideous things in the name of Easter tradition.  While the package points out that Peeps are both gluten free and fat free, it fails to note that they are also pretty much food free.  They do include yellow dye #5 and carnauba wax.  For those of you who don’t recognize that last item, it’s a major ingredient in car wax.  I’m not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV, but I would not suggest eating things which are best suited to bringing back that new-car luster to your Pontiac.  By the same token,  I would also side against trying to shine up your jalopy with a fistful of marshmallow chicks..

This will put a deep shine on your car, and the label says it's flammmable.  Photo by the author
This will put a deep shine on your DeSoto, and the label says it’s flammable. – Photo by the author

I’m sure by now there are a few irate readers who are cursing my blasphemous criticism of their beloved Peeps.  To be honest, it brings a wry smile to my face to think of them sitting there spewing frothy orbs of half chewed yellow marshmallow all over their computer screens and smart phones.

The only good thing I can say about these vile, bottom-dwellers of the candy world is that they often serve as a replacement of an even worse tradition.  Back in the not-so-distant past, some people actually gave their children live chicks for Easter, only to discover that with the exception of farmers and perverts, no one actually wants live chickens.

Chicks, bunnies, they all get uglier with age.  Illustration by the author.
Chicks and bunnies all get uglier with age. Illustration by the author.

Dentists aren’t even fans of Peeps, preferring that the Easter Bunny bring jelly beans, Jolly Ranchers and BB Bats, all of which are much more likely to pull out fillings and cause tooth decay.  Face it, even if Peeps are just gussied-up marshmallows, no one is all that crazy about that sad confection either.  Were it not for their presence in s’mores, those bags of fluffy white nothingness would sit on the supermarket shelves until someone needed them for science fair catapults.

Tune in again next time when I trash another iconic holiday staple.  I’ve got it narrowed down to elves on shelves, green beer and candy corn.

 

The Emperor’s New Prose

Behold the royal yard shoes!  Worn by his majesty whilst cleaning up after the royal pooch.
Behold the royal yard shoes!  Crafted by the artisans in the faraway land of ASICS, these shoes are worn by his majesty when policing the yard for doggy doo.

Hear ye, hear ye!

Dear loyal readers,

My original blog theme was all well and good, much like my old pair of well-worn royal running shoes.  While the theme may have been both familiar and comfortable, as with the aforementioned footwear, it was also starting to stink a little.

This little gem of a house was something I found on the internet.  It's like a blog, only you can live in it.
This little gem of a house was something I found on the internet. It’s like a blog, only you can live in it.  With a place this cool, it doesn’t matter how bad the taste of the resident is.

I’ve moved in a slightly different direction with this new look.  If you have any problem with it, please don’t hesitate to let me know.  I promise to give any constructive criticism the consideration it deserves, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll do a stinking thing about it.  In case you’re interested, I squandered all my blog-theme-upgrade savings on lottery tickets and booze, so I went with one of the free themes (For those of you who enjoy reading blogs but don’t actually blog yourselves, the theme is essentially the typeface and graphic layout and yes, there are actually ones which cost money).

So check it out, kick the tires, see what you think of the new blog crib.  Please use a coaster – I don’t want anyone leaving a ring on the new header.  I made it myself.  It’s comprised of distorted photos of yours truly as well as the oft-ridiculed, slew-footed Lucy.  In addition, there is a frosty snifter of ale which I thoroughly enjoyed on a recent junket down south.

It's all about me, plus three nostril Lucy.
It’s all about me, plus three nostril Lucy.

While you guys look around, I’m going to try to figure out which carton has my toothbrush in it and then decide where to put the sofa and velvet Elvis painting.

Enjoy that new-blog smell before it’s replaced by the all too familiar scents of stale coffee and diesel exhaust.  No matter how snazzy things might appear, I’m going to have to write something to fill this space.  Once I find the toothbrush, I’ll have to find the box I packed my ideas in.

My Word Souffle Fell Flat

Exhibit 1: Colored pencil illustration for my entry in the "Lust" in Katydid's Seven Deadly Sins competition.  The post, thought by me to be the best one I'd done in the contest didn't even make it to the finals.  The drawing scored yawns from readers.
Exhibit 1: Colored pencil illustration for my entry in the “Lust” chapter in K8edid’s Seven Deadly Sins competition. The post, thought by me to be the best one I’d done in the contest, didn’t even make it to the finals. The drawing scored yawns from readers.  If you decide to click the links at the end, you may want to go back to the gluttony one first and read them in order.

I thought my last post was pretty good.  It had lots of great ingredients including a bubble-headed newscaster, Lady Gaga, Academy Awards and racial slurs.  In my book, that’s a can’t-lose recipe.  I tossed that crap in my handy WordPress Lazy Blogger Crock Pot®, set the timer and toddled off to work.  Eight hours later, I’d open the front door and be greeted by the savory aroma of delicious comments and a bountiful platter of steaming “likes”.  I knew better than to hope for any Freshly Pressed action – this post was discomfort food, not French-Asian fusion cuisine featuring fair-trade organic lemongrass and sustainable free-range snails [Food analogies inserted to whet the readers’ appetites and make blog writing seem as effortless for me as slow cooking.  Analogy of Freshly Pressed as some sort of trendy, politically-correct restaurant is due to my being a bitter man who can’t get a reservation]

In some people's eyes, these are nothing but miniature cabbages, but in the hands of a master chef, they can be steamed over simmering rice wine, garnished with a chiffonade of Thai basil and served in groups of 3 for $17.
In some people’s eyes, these are nothing but miniature cabbages, but in the hands of a master chef, they can be steamed over herbed rice wine, garnished with a chiffonade of Thai basil and served in groups of 3 for $17.

I followed the instructions to the letter, adding a little extra salt and a pinch of cayenne, then left for my day of toiling making the world a better place for special-needs youngsters [Shameless self-promotion inserted to make people feel crappy for not reading my last post]

Shameless self promotional shot of me helping my post-stroke, ass-paralyzed dog.  Disclaimer: I am not a licensed dog physical therapist and may have only done this to keep the pooch frm crapping in the house.  Good news, she's recovered the use of her ass, and is back to being ignored by me.
Shameless self-promotional shot of me helping my post-stroke, ass-paralyzed dog. Disclaimer: I am not a licensed dog physical therapist and may have only done this to keep the pooch from crapping in the house. Good news, she’s recovered the use of her ass end, and is back to annoying the daylights out of me.

I trudged through the door that night and rushed to turn on the laptop.  I was greeted with a mere four likes and a handful of comments from a few of my more ardent supporters.  Four likes?!  A fifth like showed up later, but it was clearly a “sympathy like” at best.  I responded to each and every comment, and waited patiently for the momentum to pick back up.  I jiggled the cord to make sure it was plugged in and touched the side to see if it had warmed up [Appliance malfunction analogy inserted to hint at my disappointment and grumbling stomach.  Grumbling stomach analogy inserted into aside to imply that I’ll starve without positive reinforcement.  Rushing to my laptop involved ignoring the greetings of both my long-suffering wife and gimpy-but-faithful dog]

It’s been too long now, there may be more likes trickling in and possibly a comment or two, but by this point, the post is buried and the expiration date on the topics has come and gone.  My post before that one was over at The Nudge Wink Report.  It had just a few words and was mostly comprised of cut-n-paste images of Kim Kardashian and her ample tushy being put in a bunch of silly places.  It was far from my best work and I was fully prepared to be accused of having “smart-phoned it in”.  Despite my doubts about the quality, the post got a butt-load of likes and a bumper crop of comments!  Mrs. Kanye West’s ass pasted onto my dog’s nose is apparently blog gold. [Kim and Kanye reference inserted to allow me to put them in my tags for this post with a clear conscience – thus increasing my hits exponentially.  Choice of using the words “butt load” and “bumper crop” in reference to ass-themed post responses was entirely intentional]

Kim's keister perched on a snifter of imperial stout?  Is this what it takes to get blog hits?
Kim’s keister perched on a snifter of imperial stout? Is this what it takes to get blog hits?

My first instinct, as a born pleaser, was to try to figure out what I’d done wrong.  Surely there were errors in my less successful post and some sort of mysterious appeal to the more popular one.  This is far from the first time I’d wondered what I’d done to displease the masses. [Self-reflection reference inserted to paint the author as being a little deeper than someone with an apparent fascination with Kim’s sizeable fanny might otherwise appear]

The bigger question eventually rises to the surface and sits there waiting to be acknowledged, like a turd in the punch bowl which can’t be ignored any longer.  Here it is; Who exactly am I writing for? [Rhetorical question inserted in hopes of eliciting cries of “Me, Dave! You’re writing for me – I simply can’t get enough of your snarky brilliance!”.  Turd in the punch bowl analogy inserted because, you know…poop humor]

I’ll be the first to admit that most of my blog posts are not exactly the stuff of literary artistry.  I have written a handful of serious posts and some marginally humorous fiction in the past, but my blog identity is largely that of a smart-ass commenting on the news and/or the idiocy of the world.  I enjoy making people laugh or even just smile.  I like the thought of being the sarcastic voice of people who are annoyed or amused by the goofiness of our world. [As if to imply that most folk simply can’t read news stories and shake their heads in amazement without checking for my two cents first.  You really should be insulted]

Insert photo of braying donkey here.  Great teeth, you jack-ass!
Insert photo of braying donkey here. Great teeth, you jack-ass!

If I’ve learned nothing else from drawing and writing, it’s that people are going to like what they like, and not necessarily what I find appealing.  The differing tastes and opinions of people is part of what makes the world go ’round. [Reference to my occasional drawing inserted to portray myself as something of a renaissance man, albeit one who had to try three times before finally spelling “renaissance” correctly.  Reference to “making the world go ’round” is a bold-faced lie – we all know damn well that people with poor taste should not be tolerated, and couldn’t have less to do with the rotation of a planet]

Bet you thought I was going to put the picture of the pig in the dress in here again, didn't you?  I'm not just a one trick pony, you know.
Bet you thought I was going to put the picture of the pig in the dress in here again, didn’t you? I’m not just a one trick pony, you know.  On a side note, I noticed some awful issues with this drawing, so I’ll probably never use it again.

Please don’t think this is some kind of a “Read my blog or I’m gonna quit” threat-fest. [Actually, that’s exactly what this is – you damn people better start coddling me a little or I’m going to take my mad writing skills over to the “Rants and Raves” section of the local Craigslist and hang out with the illiterate crowd.  They’ll appreciate me even less, but there’s no like button there, so I won’t know]

Here are a few links to some of the posts I mentioned – no obligation, I’m just happy you actually got to the end of the post:

K8edid

Deadly Sins #1 Gluttony

DS #2 Envy

DS #3 Sloth

DS #4 Lust

Gaga-boo Music

Nudge Wink Kardashian cut-n-paste post

 

 

 

Gaga-Boo Music

By now you may have heard about the Fox News anchor who used a racially derogatory word in her discussion of Lady Gaga’s performance at the Oscars.  The beauty-pageant winner turned newscaster said it was hard to really hear Gaga’s voice with all of the “jigaboo music” accompanying the singer.  I missed seeing the Academy Awards again this year.  I think my streak for skipping that show for 56 consecutive years is impressive, but I’m not here to grandstand.

She's a former beauty pageant winner, and he's a co-anchor.  Is it okay to call someone a co-anchor?
She did well in the swimsuit competition, but faltered during the talent portion, where she showed how limber she was by sticking both of her feet in her mouth. The co-anchor seems to already know he’ll soon have that desk all to himself.  Is it okay to call someone a co-anchor?  That’s not one of those slur-word things is it?

Since I didn’t see it, I guess there’s a slim possibility that Gaga’s back-up music was so raucous and bizarre that the standard English language was simply insufficient to adequately describe it.  If that was the case, the reporter had little choice but to resort to jerky hand gestures or funny sounding slang words like “razzamatazz” or “badonkey-tonk”.

It can be difficult to hear Gaga's beautiful voice, especially in this scene where she sang "..the hills are alive, with the sound of cherry bombs going off in my bra"
It can be difficult to hear Gaga’s beautiful voice, as in this scene where she sang “..the hills are alive, with the sound of cherry bombs going off in my bra”

When criticized for her use of the slur, the news anchor Tweeted her little heart out, spewing apologies and offering the explanation that she didn’t actually know what the word meant when she said it (twice, but who’s counting, right?).  The guy to her left seems to be a little more familiar with it.

In these N-word sensitive times, many white folk simply aren’t up to speed with the broad selection of racial epithets available out there to insult most any group.  In truth, there’s no shortage in colorful words and phrases with which to simultaneously flaunt both ones racist leanings and impressive vocabulary.  I’m not interested in helping popularize any of these lesser known terms and will keep them to myself, unless someone cuts me off in traffic.

As a lifelong speaker of English, I understand that we sometimes say things we don’t mean to.  I say the wrong thing fairly often, such as “Hell yes!” to the offer of yet another pint of beer when I meant “No thank you”.  The difference is that I know the meanings of the words, I just chose the wrong ones.

I know I should've said no, but it's a Goat Boy Imperial Weizenbock!  No one says no to another one of those.  Lookit that cute little goat boy!
No one says “No” to another Goat Boy Imperial Weizenbock, NO ONE !!

When I go to Starbucks, I order whichever coffee drink I’m interested in having, and specify whether I’d like a small, medium or large.  I do not order a yeti or a grande.  Though I’ve certainly been to enough Mexican restaurants to know that grande probably means large, I’m not positive, so I don’t use the word.  To further complicate things, Yeti is another name for Bigfoot, which has the word “big” right in it.  No wonder people are confused.  Besides, the whole thing smacks of pretentiousness, but that’s for another blog post.

My daughter recently brought these back from Seattle, home of Starbucks.  I think we can all make the Yeti/Mocha Latte connection now.
My daughter recently brought these back from Seattle, birthplace of Starbucks. I think we can all make the Grande-Yeti-Mocha Latte connection now.  For the record, Yeti turds have a sweet, nutty taste.

The real story is not that some perky newscaster used a racist term.  The big message is that this woman, who talks for a living, had no idea what she was saying!  Thousands of viewers tune in to find out what’s going on in their corner of the world and this is one of the people who tells them!?    She didn’t know what it meant, and said it anyway – at least that is what she Tweeted, but there’s a chance that she also types things she doesn’t know the meanings of.

No need to bother with a caption, the pic is self-explanatory.
No need to bother with a caption, the pic is self-explanatory.

It’s commendable that people turn on the news in the first place, considering the sensationally tragic nature of most news stories.  Even if some of them are only tuning in to find out who won the game or to ogle the weather girl, at least they’re taking some slight bit of interest in the world around them and not parking themselves in front of a “13 Wives and Counting” marathon on A & E.

Quiet kids, Daddy's watching the news!  (Image from the nayshun dot com)
Quiet kids, Daddy’s watching the news…and learning a little Spanish! (Image from the nayshun dot com)

This talking head has done little to restore peoples’ faith in the news media.  If only she’d stuck to the teleprompter.  In other news, Walter Cronkite is still spinning in his grave like a rotisserie chicken on a cordless drill.  When pressed for a comment, Chet Huntley and David Brinkley both stated they could do a better job handling broadcast news despite their mutual state of deadness.  Stay with us for continuing coverage, we’ll be back with weather and sports after these messages (Pull back to studio shot and cue the Starbucks commercial).