Speedos!

It's Unfortunate....

The Lifeguard was listening to the radio the other day, and the great Alanis Morissette song, "Ironic", began to play. Sure, The Lifeguard thought about the irony of a song called, "Ironic", in which none of the events were ironic. (And, The Lifeguard is pretty sure that he has talked about this before.)

"Ironic" is a tough word to define, dear readers. (Even tougher to explain to a 7th grader, but that is a whole 'nother can of worms.)

"Ironic" is Dennis Wilson drowning.

"Ironic" is Natalie Wood not floating.

"Ironic" is Lou Gehrig dying of Lou Gehrig's Disease. (Did his parents ever think, "Shit! We should've named him Bob?")

Which all got The Lifeguard thinking, how is it that Michelle Obama--the black Marie Antoinette--gets away with taking forty two (42) days of holiday over the last year? That is, dear readers, one out of every nine days, eating cheeseburgers, prancing about on the public dime, and flashing those "toned arms" to adoring fans and reporters.

[Ed. Note: Calling Michelle Obama the "black Marie Antoinette" has been deemed unfair...to Marie Antoinette.]

Of course, if President Obama had spent that much time on holiday, then perhaps he'd have had less time to meddle with the economy, to make speeches inciting class-warfare, or play golf. Wait! He has played a shit-load of golf. (Either that, or he has a part-time job as a caddy.)

Seriously, if the world is looking for an example of ironic, all one needs to do is take a long look at the residents of the White House, and the fuckwits who call Capitol Hill home.

Budget deal? The Lifeguard has got your budget deal right here!

Tomorrow, how The Lifeguard solves the budget crisis, gets the AAA bond rating back, and saves the world.

Peace!

HFWTFMF?!?

Putting the "Tonk" in Honky Tonk...

The Lifeguard recently took a trip to that beachfront paradise, Old Orchard Beach, Maine. (The pier appears above.) A mere 60 minutes from Boston, and a place where the shot, the stabbed, the pierced and tattooed can take the sun and enjoy the surf without fear of being judged by anyone other than The Lifeguard.

A brief stroll past the shops on the main street revealed tattoo parlours, piercing pagodas, and fried dough purveyors. (Remember, one must be 18 to be pierced or tattooed. However, The Lifeguard's observations revealed that a lot of people--especially young girls--have fake IDs, or boyfriends who have tattoo guns.) Indeed, there is nothing sexier than a pimple-faced teenager with stretch marks, belly scars, navel jewelry and a tramp stamp. In fact, The Lifeguard had to brace himself as he got nearer to hell (or, closer to the beach).

Upon reaching the sand, The Lifeguard encountered the cream of the crop.

There she was. A vision of beauty. A testament to years of tanning, without sun block. Her skin, like deeply tanned leather. A sun hat, hanging playfully on her cane, which was near her beach chair. I tried to turn away, but couldn't, drawn to the portable oxygen kit and the tattoos adorning her belly. Tipping the scales at a svelte 100 kilos, she was a goddess, smoking a generic cigarette and scanning the beach for men (or food).

There were pasty Canadians, speaking French and wearing Riviera Dink Suits. There were 30 year old women, trailed by a Benetton-ad's worth of kids. There were barely-legal girls, showing off their bodies, fully aware that they are built for sex. It was a frightening milieu, and The Lifeguard, after dipping his toes in the chilly Atlantic, retreated to his car.

Then, needing therapy, a drink and a tetanus shot, The Lifeguard left OOB. For good.

Maybe They'll Stay on Holiday.

When Googling "Obama Vacation" Images...
seven of the first twenty pictures are of President Barack Hussein Obama (who is still not a Muslim) without a shirt.

The Lifeguard, who is all man, is not impressed. (Plus, it looks like he might shave his chest, which is decidedly most unpresidential.)