HFWTFMF?!?

The Lifeguard Is Never Judgmental...

unless it's funny.

The Lifeguard started some rant about pierced, tattooed and pregnant teens. It was hilarious--and incredibly mean. Really, it was downright cruel.

Then, The Lifeguard decided that with all of the problems in the world, his two cents worth wouldn't amount to a hill of beans. The girls would still have ten holes in their ears, tongue, nipples and nether regions. They'd get tramp stamps on their backs, barbed wire tats on their arms, and dolphin tats on their legs. They'd still name their children DeShawn, Jaydon, Shaylaine, and Corianne. It would be all for naught.

Plus, I noticed a couple of girls making out while I was editing the piece, so I pretty much decided to dump it and watch them.

Believe me, it was much better (for The Lifeguard).

I'm baaaack!

THE LIFEGUARD SAVES...
or, would have saved, if he would have been asked. The recent Times Square car bomb attempt had America abuzz. Reports that a "white male" were seen leaving the scene, and there were discussions about this being a plot by tea-bagging right-wing extremists.

The Lifeguard, however, advised that the suspect was likely an Arabic type, a practitioner of the Religion of Peace, and an advocate of the repeal of The Patriot Act.

The Lifeguard was pooh-poohed, called a racist, an idiot, and a tea-bagging right-wing extremist.

This morning, news broke that Faisal Shahzad, a naturalised US Citizen, was arrested at JFK Airport, boarding a flight for Dubai. Even better, preliminary reports indicate that Shahzad's bomb didn't explode because he had set the timer incorrectly--0700, as opposed to 1900.

Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.

Lifeguard 1, Terrorist 0.

The Lifeguard Is On A Break

The Lifeguard Will Return From Hiatus This Week!

Oops!

The Lifeguard Was Watching Television
He tuned into American Beaver, but it wasn't what he was expecting.

Wh-wh-what?

I'm Pretty Sure...
that there didn't need to be eight ways to ask The Lifeguard if he was, in some form, Hispanic.

The Lifeguard was responding to the decennial census, as mandated by the United States Constitution (Article 1, Section 2), and nearly shit when faced with the following questions:

[The Lifeguard paraphrases...]

"Are you Hispanic?"

"Cuban?"

"Puerto Rican?"

"Chicano?"

"Some other Hispanic? (e.g., Argentinian, Chilean, Salvadoran, Costa Rican, et al.)"

"Are you white?"

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?

Why in the crikey fuck do we need to know precisely how many Argentinians, Koreans, Hmongs, or Guamians are in the country? [Rhetorical question.]

If we were asking in order to pre-plan the return airline tickets back to these countries, The Lifeguard might feel better about the extreme specificity; but, The Lifeguard knows that this is merely a means by which the government largess is divvied up amongst the raft(load) of minorities living in this country.

Maybe if the Census Bureau got back to taking a head count, there would be fewer problems, fewer dollars spent, and fewer race-based government programs.

Yeah, like that'll ever happen.

Rantings

I Suppose ObamaCare Will Pay For This, Too...
The Lifeguard is not averse to people with a need having access--even free access--to such contraptions. After all, if there is something that can help the individual who is paralysed get outside and live a more fulfilling life, then sign me up for that.

The Tank Chair, for instance, is one of those devices that would never have been invented anywhere but America. It's big, it's ungainly, and it's probably pretty fucking expensive. It can also allow the paraplegic hunter the means to get back to nature.

The Lifeguard's irritation, however, begins when people who are too fat to walk demand that Medicare (or Medicaid) pay for their power chair. (These things are pretty expensive, too. Prices for some start at $1,300.00. A pair of Nikes would be a hell of a lot cheaper.) Really, if you maybe took a walk once and a while, you wouldn't need to plop your 250 kilo ass into one of these rides for a trip around the mall.

Knees hurt? Then drop 20 kilos and stop complaining. Can't see Mr. Winky? Well, there's probably no cure for that, since penis implants are not yet reliable. Want to buy some groceries? Take a stroll to the bakery. Unless, of course, you are Donna Simpson, the 250 kilo Beast from the East.

This woman is on a quest to become the fattest woman in the world, which will require her to consume 12,000 calories a day, while minimising her physical activity. And, The Lifeguard will have to pay for her care and feeding. (The Lifeguard is pretty sure that he has already paid, in part, for her power chair.)

We'll all pay, unless, of course, there are enough sickos in the world to cough up a few bucks to watch Ms. Simpson eat. (There is already at least one site, where the viewer can pay to watch BBW Mandy Blake stuff her face.) Frankly, if one wishes to see this sort of train wreck, all one need do is peer through the window at the local Curves; or, hang out at the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.

Speaking of which, it's time to run down to China Dragon.

Noon is feeding time.

HFWTFMF?!?

Separated At Birth?
Maybe Alfred E. Neuman would be a better judge than Ellen Degeneres. (Although, he is not quite as mannish.)

The Lifeguard is, at the present time, interested in the outcome of "American Idol." (Aside from my interest in the hotness of some of the female contestants, I am also in a pool that could put some brass in my pocket.) Therefore, gentle readers, should you have a chance to vote for Siobhan Magnus, please do so. And for the record, The Lifeguard did not select her in the aforementioned office pool because she is 19, or a glassblower. (Well, maybe the glassblowing part had something to do with it.)

Stiffed!

Car Trouble Kept Me From The Conference

Neither The Lifeguard, nor Senator Scott Brown (R-People's Republic of Massachusetts) were at President Barack Hussein Obama's bi-partisan health care confab. The President (who remains non-Muslim) was hoping to create a show--cover, if you will--for his plans to force health care reform down the throats of 300 million Americans, whether they like it or not.

Indeed, it reminds me of the (many) times that The Lifeguard got spankings. (I am not talking about the ones where the spanker is dressed as Emily Dickinson, I am talking about the ones meted out by The Lifeguard's father.) Without fail, as the beating was administered, my dad would say, "This will hurt me more than it does you." (And The Lifeguard would say, "Ouch!")

But, The Lifeguard digresses.

President Obama, the Democrat party, and a minority of America's pointy-headed elite believe that we need government-run health care. Health care administered with the same efficiency as the United States Postal Service, and with the same accountability as...well...Congress. Health care for the kiddies, the oldies, and everyone in between. Health care for you and for me, and for the estimated 25 million illegal aliens within our borders. (I suppose that we are providing benefits to the so-called anchor babies, children born to illegal immigrants, so as to get a little American citizen on the dole, so why not provide care for everyone.)

Then, America will have the same quality health care that Cuba does. (We will also have the same economic outlook as Cuba, without the great weather, the fabulous cigars, and the '57 Chevies and Fords.) Best of all, we won't have to pay a dime for it.

So, if we are headed down this road...and I believe that we are...The Lifeguard has a few thoughts that might smooth the transition from First World innovation in health care to Third World delivery of services. These are a few modest proposals, which President Obama would be well-served to consider.

First, encourage smoking. The federal coffers are filled with cigarette tax money; but, there is a risk of it drying up as smoking bans take hold around the country. Sure, it's a smelly, messy habit; and, it shortens your life if you smoke heavily. However, it does generate revenue--in massive amounts. Get 100 million Americans smoking again and the state and federal governments could generate an easy $200,000,000.00 a day. That's $73,000,000,000.00 a year. That's real money. On top of it, shorter lifespans equal fewer people collecting social security, so that injects more money into the pool of cash in which Congress frolics. Add to that productivity gains when workers are no longer forced to go outside to smoke, and American industry will be rolling once more.

Second, eliminate fertility treatments. The Lifeguard doesn't want to pay a dime for some forty-something dimwit who wants a child to love, but who is infertile. (Or worse, married to some weasel who is shooting blanks.) You want a child, then adopt. Given the moral dilemma created when fertility treatments yield a litter--and the ensuing multiple births (or reductions)--eliminating fertility treatments will save countless billions of dollars.

Third, institute real malpractice reform. If noted Russian sex reassignment surgeon, Dr. Ivana Ketchacockov's scalpel slips, the patient shouldn't be able to sue for tens of millions of dollars. Out of pocket expenses? Yes. Medical treatment necessitated by the malpractice? Of course. Twenty million dollars because you have a funny scar? No fucking way. Indeed, The Lifeguard has never understood why juries give scads of money to victims of malpractice. (Beyond what is reasonable, of course.) It is true that insurance companies have boatloads of money. It is also true that they pass along the costs--by way of higher premiums--to doctors, thus putting an unnatural pressure on them to charge higher fees and to practice defencive medicine. And, of course, those same companies pass along higher premiums to those buying health insurance. Sure, the jury gave little Suzy $8,000,000.00. They also gave themselves (and their doctors) greater overhead.

As an aside, government health care shouldn't pay for sex changes, either. (The Lifeguard would be willing to support covering the following procedures, however. Breast augmentation, liposuction, nose jobs, and botox. Improved self-esteem equates to happier people.)

Finally, The Lifeguard recommends that any immigrant--illegal or otherwise--who comes to this country with a chronic disease (e.g., HIV/AIDS, TB, pregnancy, or cancer) be screened and deported (unless they can pay for their care). President Obama has recently changed the requirement of screening for these diseases, and now lets anyone who can run, jump or swim here stay here, regardless of their medical condition. This is, gentle readers, a matter of the public health. Allowing people to enter our borders, then suck up a finite resource, without contributing, is the first step on the road to perdition. Again, a billion saved is a billion that can be spent on the future Barney Frank Memorial Bathhouse and Day Care Center.

Just a few thoughts.

Maybe the POTUS is listening.

Not that anyone is counting...

Wait! The Lifeguard Is.
At this very moment in time, the United States is leading all nations in the medal count, with 28. Germany is second, with 24, and Norway is third, with 18. The host country, Canada, has a respectable 15. The Lifeguard is giddy at the thought of the United States winning the most medals.

Oh, and for The Lifeguard's friends in Canada (you know who you are), sorry about that hockey game. (It's not like hockey is your national sport, or anything like that.)

That is all.

It's like rain on your wedding day...

Okay, Maybe It's Not Ironic.

In a time that we are watching the 2010 Vancouver Olympics (where the United States has been winning medals right and left--20, as of this writing) and discussing obesity (among children, adults, and my nephew's dog), The Lifeguard almost fell over when he read about the 240 kilogram (528 pound) Romanian woman who gave birth to a 2.9 kilogram (6.4 pound) baby, by caesarian section.

The woman, Victoria Lacatus, suffers from a glandular problem (I am more inclined to think that the gland in question is her mouth, not her thyroid), which contributed to her morbid obesity.

Apparently, this is a bigger problem than either The Lifeguard or First Lady, Michelle Obama thought. Lacatus, a Romanian, gave birth in a hospital for the obese. That there needs to be a hospital equipped with beds that could support the Brobdingnagian woman is somewhat puzzling to me. After all, one just doesn't wake up and find that they weigh 240 kilos. It takes time. And, the old adage, "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure" rings true in almost every instance of obesity. (Put another way, the damage isn't done with just one Ding Dong.)

Also puzzling is the fact that her future husband, a man tipping the scales at 70 kilograms (154 pounds) was a) engaged to a woman weighing more than three times as much as he does (maybe she has a great personality?); or, b) that he was able to engage in coitus. In fact, contemplating the sheer mechanics of the latter are enough to make The Lifeguard swear off food and drink for a good long while. Oh, there is also a c). Most men would not be able to perform given the amount of alcohol required to have sex with a 240 kilogram woman.

Now, before you hop on your power chair and come gunning for The Lifeguard, please consider the following observations.

First, I do not like the that obesity is viewed as a disease. Not only does that absolve fat people from responsibility, it creates a new victim class. ("I can't stop eating, I have a disease. And, if you try to make me pay for two airline seats, I'll sue you, because I have a disease.") It is a choice, whether you like it or not. Don't want to be fat? Go for a walk, eat some vegetables, put down the Twinkies.

Second, I think that if childhood obesity is such a problem, then encouraging children to walk (or ride their bicycles) to school is a good place to start, as are recess and physical education. (Anecdotal evidence of this can be found with Number Two, whose school administration does not allow children walking to school without a parent.) Mandatory intramural sports, walks, and calisthenics couldn't hurt, either. After all, the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton and Harrow.

Finally, if you are unhappy with your weight (and doing something about it), then shut the hell up, you.

The Lifeguard has spoken.

HFWTFMF?!?

Colour Commentator?
The Lifeguard would have been called a racist had he said it. However, it's true, President Barack Hussein Obama (who continues to not be a Muslim) tried his hand at colour commentary during the Dook/Georgetown basketball game on January 30th.

Listening to the ramblings of the 44th president, it seemed that, absent a TelePromTer, the POTUS would suck just as much at doing colour for CBS as he does at running America.

Of course, he can't watch a full game, "...tun[ing] in and out...", so perhaps he could work with Joe Morgan, who doesn't watch baseball games.

HFWTFMF?!?

Gilbert Arenas Plays For A Team That Used To Be Called The Bullets...

Well, he used to play for a team called the Bullets.

You Want Me On That Plane!

THE LIFEGUARD WAS TRAVELING FROM NIGERIA LAST WEEK...

As The Lifeguard walked through security, the only white guy in a sea of sweaty, smelly Third-Worlders, he heard those words that every good American (i.e., non-Muslim) hates to hear:

"Lifeguard, you have been selected for secondary screening. One finger or two?"

Blame President Bush

We Wouldn't Want To Offend...
After all, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab is probably not even a Muslim. Indeed, it would be so damned offensive to members of the Religion of Peace if he had been stopped, searched, or prevented from flying. That is, if he is even a Muslim.

After all, if people were stopped based upon their names, then people like Mohammed Atta, Barack Hussein Obama, or Ziad Jarrah would have trouble flying. (Curiously, one of the three is not a Muslim; however, all three have had airplane incidents involving New York City.)

Israel regularly profiles travelers, and El Al is the safest airline in the world. American carriers do not, largely due to fears of lawsuits and of offending the people who are trying to kill us. And, strangely, Mr. Abdulmutallab was on a Terror Watch List; but, was not subjected to any enhanced screening.

And, frankly, I can not help but think that if Mr. Abdulmutallab had waited just two hours more--until he arrived in Detroit--no one would have noticed (or cared) if he blew himself to bits.

Merry Christmas!

The Lifeguard Says...

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

May the peace and joy of this season bring you much happiness.

Put me down for a 12...

"Where Da White Women At?"
As someone who has...um..."dated" a number of Swedish women, I will say this in Tiger's defence. They are beautiful, sexy, and very desirable. Also, after a while, the accent becomes so annoying.

'Nuff said.

The Horror...

Kill Them All, Let God (or Allah) Sort Them Out.

An adherent of the so-called Religion of Piece--as in piece of suicide bomber--has one more request for those 72 Virginians.

A man, dressed as a woman, blew himself to bits in the midst of a graduation ceremony in Mogadishu, Somalia, killing three government ministers, three journalists, and seventeen others. (And we want to let Muslim women have their driver's licence pictures taken in their modesty-preserving garb?)

First, it was the warlords, stealing food and terrorising the poor (read, "everyone in Somalia").

Then, it was the so-called Blackhawk Down incident, with the attendant embarrassment to the United States of America.

Next, it was the rampant piracy, originating in the coastal towns of this lawless country.

Now, we have Al-Shabab (who deny any involvement in this cowardly act) committing a cowardly act that killed future doctors, engineers, and other students. (Yeah, good move. Kill the people that will most likely help to improve the plight of their fellow countrymen.)

Honestly, we have reached a point--and not just in Somalia--where drastic measures are called for. This is not a law enforcement problem, this is an education problem. A religion problem. (Actually, a problem stemming from a religion that loathes education, especially when it includes women.)

The solution? Drain the swamp.

The Lifeguard knows that it is just not fashionable (or practical) to send a large force to every Third-World shithole that needs, well, a large force. So, rather than waste valuable human resources, we should make use of some of the wonderful toys that come from the Military Industrial Complex.

Predator Drones, Tomahawk Cruise Missiles, and other smart weapons are just the cure for what ails the world. And no worries about rules of engagement or collateral damage. (Hell, Somalia is a one big piece of collateral damage. A little more won't matter.) Of course, our Nobel Peace Prize-winning President, Barack Hussein Obama (who remains not a Muslim) has neither the will, nor the sack to light up Somalia.

Now, if The Lifeguard were in charge...

Sports Saturday...

Alabama Beats Florida. Tebow In Tears.
Alabama's Crimson Tide beat Florida's Gators in the SEC Championship, handing the Gators their first loss of the season. This was the most anticipated game of a rather mundane college football season.

Florida QB, and Heisman Trophy winner, Tim Tebow, was crying at the end of the game.

The Lifeguard could not have cared less.

Say What?

It's An Outrage! An Outrage!
President William Jefferson Clinton, America's first black president, sodomises a chubby intern, and it's no big deal. Just a little sex between the most powerful man in the world...and that woman.

Tiger Woods plays a few rounds away from his home course, and the world is turned upside down.

Agreed!

"I LOVE HUMANITY, BUT I HATE PEOPLE."
American poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay, had it right. There is a lot to love about the human race; but, the people? Oy vey! Indeed, The Lifeguard used to say, about the practice of law, "It'd be a great profession if it weren't for the clients."

The Lifeguard, after celebrating an entire weekend of being thankful for various crap, wanted to remind the reader of one of the many things for which The Lifeguard is not thankful.

Like Real Housewives of Atlanta. I mean, I don't have a problem with housewives, or Atlanta. But, these broads get nothing but my undying scorn...and ridicule. I first discovered this train wreck while scanning the channels for some good re-runs of Hogan's Heroes or The A-Team. Instead, I had to watch this abortion (which will not be funded under the obamination that is Obamacare). I never knew that there was a single show that could sour me on an entire sex...or, at least a group of that sex. Thank Christ that there are other, less ugly, examples of womanhood.

Really, all that needs to be said on the subject is, "Ne Ne."

Come to think of it, The Lifeguard is saddened by the fact that he missed Edna St. Vincent Millay by so many years. She sounds like The Lifeguard's kind of woman.

I Crashed The State Dinner...
and overheard Indian Prime Minister, Manmohan Singh, say to President Barack Hussein Obama (who is probably still not a Muslim), "Oy vey! You's darker than us! Woof!"

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Lifeguard Can't Go In The Water!*
After eating enough food to feed a Somali family for two weeks, The Lifeguard dozed off on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee growing cold at my feet. And, as The Lifeguard drifted off, thoughts of friends, old and new, occupied my thoughts.

Thank you for your friendship, your love, and your concern. Y'all make life brighter, better.

May you have much peace, happiness, and turkey sandwiches for lunch tomorrow.

Oh, and don't forget the pie.

*I might cramp up if I do. Don't worry, the sentimental Bravo Sierra ends in about 54 minutes. Tomorrow, the assault on the coming Christmas Season begins. You want Black Friday? You'll get Black Humour Friday. And you'll love it.

HFWTFMF?!?

What's Next?
Some moron thought that Muslim girls (who can't, in many places, attend school, or show their faces) would like to play with Burkha Barbie.

What's next? Suicide Bomber Barbie? (A Burkha Barbie wearing a suicide bomber's vest. The whole thing explodes fifteen minutes after you leave the store, sending rat poison coated ball bearings and roofing nails into every nook and cranny of your car.)

HFWTFMF?!?

THE LIFEGUARD HAS BEEN "UNFRIENDED"...
by his "unfriend."

It's funny, but the "unfriending" happened just days before "unfriend" became the 2009 Word of the Year. (In the eyes, at least, of the Oxford Dictionary.) A week or so before Thanksgiving. And, it was so easy. One minute, friends. The next, no evidence that the friendship ever existed. (Except, of course, for those nude photographs.)

It kind of hurt. The Lifeguard, after all, is a friend to all...except to those who "unfriend" him.

The Lifeguard just hopes that no one else "unfriends" him. (At least not today.)

Acquitted!

The Lifeguard Saves...
The administration of President Barack Hussein Obama (who is still not a Muslim) gave the enemies of America an amazing opportunity to show The Great Satan for what militant Islam thinks it is: A brutal, oppressive nation that bullies lesser countries, tortures Muslims, and spreads its own brand of incorrigible malaise and immorality to the far reaches of the world. (You know, stuff like letting women attend school, for example.) Allowing Khalid Sheikh Mohammed to be tried in the United States (New York City, even), shows just how idiotic the Hussein...I mean, Obama...Administration is.

The next two years are going to be an absolute clusterfuck as our favourite alleged terrorist--and his court-appointed legal dream team--captures the headlines and manipulates the American judicial system for his own purposes (and for Al Qaeda's recruiting efforts).

If I were his lawyer, I would immediately seek a change of venue. Clearly, KSM can not get an impartial jury in the former shadow of the Twin Towers. And, it is not unreasonable that a Federal Court Judge, in New York City, would grant that motion (for fear of being flipped on appeal). I would seek a more friendly venue, like San Francisco--a long way from the East Coast--or Detroit--where there is a large Arabic population.

Then, I would be seeking to suppress all sorts of admissions and evidence against my client. Clearly, KSM was not read his Miranda rights when he was taken into custody. He was not given access to counsel, and his rights under the Fifth Amendment may have been abridged. Further, his coerced confession came as the result of torture, in violation of the Eighth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States.

Next, I would file discovery requests for all information related to KSM's activities. Of course, knowing that this is all classified information, vital to national security, I would further tie up the Government, forcing them to argue countless motions, while having my minions (and you know there would be minions on my Dream Team) file FOIA requests. There would be more paper in this file than in the Democrats' Health Care Reform Bill.

Additionally, there would be visits to various news organs, who would doubtless love a chance to see just how horrible the Bush Administration's policies were to these poor folks. Indeed, Bill Maher would be champing at the bit to get me on Real Time; and, I can see a series of interviews on CNN, MSNBC (Olbermann is salivating), and the rest of the liberal media.

This would certainly soak up some serious time--and some serious coin. The judge will grant every request, every motion, for fear of presiding over the trial that led to the conviction that is tipped on appeal. (But, if The Lifeguard were at the helm, there would be no need for an appeal.)

Next, The Lifeguard gets ready for trial.

The Lifeguard Is Not Alone...

If You Engage In Any Of The Following Behaviour...
you deserve an ass-kicking of Brobdingnagian proportions. If you engage in this behaviour in a church, you should be killed.

1) Wearing a Bluetooth earpiece makes you a douche. I so wanted to say something to the parishoner who had his earpiece on, blinking away, while the priest gave his homily. Unfortunately, I was so fixated by that blinking blue light that I couldn't pay attention. I prayed for his unfortunate (and untimely) death as the hands of a gang of meth-crazed high school students. (And, I think that God will answer my prayers.)

2) Fucking around with your iPhone prior to Mass, then showing the clever YouTube video to your pew-mate, deserves a beating that would have made Sister Benita Mussolini proud. (We used to call her Il Douchebag.)

If you can't be disconnected from technology for one measly hour, then you should politely remove yourself from the human race.

That is all.

The Lifeguard Wept...

I Just Don't Know What To Say...
The Lifeguard was in the local big-ass pharmacy and saw one of these babies.

The Lifeguard, wanting to make a difference in someone's life, is thinking about buying one, then shaving and donating his back hair to Locks of Love. After all, nothing is more detrimental to a young Italian boy's recovery from cancer than losing all of his back hair as a result of chemotherapy. (That, and having to remove his gold chains, bracelet, and pinkie ring before going into the MRI scanner.)

Or...not.

To be perfectly honest, The Lifeguard shaves his body for no man. (Which is to say, The Lifeguard does not shave his luxurious chest--or back--hair for anyone.)

All I Want For Christmas...

Is That Too Much To Ask?
And, if Claus comes through and I find one of these puppies under my tree--it's a really tall tree--I'll be looking for crew.

Interested applicants must be willing to spend hours, in the luxurious salon of the Gunboat 62, with The Lifeguard. As we will be visiting various exotic ports-of-call, the successful applicant must have a sense of adventure.

Please forward your application, along with photographs, to The Lifeguard.

We leave on December 26th.

Mad Dog's Tentacles Are Long...

His Street Cred Grows...
Mad Dog, sentenced to life in prison, is running a global criminal enterprise once more. Now, instead of cash, he's dealing in cigarettes, contraband, and a stable of prison bitches. But, you can't keep a Mad Dog on the porch. (Even when that porch has steel bars, sixteen foot walls, guard towers and razor tape.)

When Mad Dog learned that his former associate, Jeffry Picower was being pressured about the $7 billion he had made from Madoff-related investments, Mad Dog took matters into his own hands.

It's amazing what a couple of cartons of Newports will get you these days.

Jeffry Picower was found dead last weekend, at the bottom of his swimming pool.

A victim of a heart attack. (At least it looked like a heart attack.)

Dynamic Douche-o

Batman and Robin?
I was talking to my friend, N., who said she pictured these chaps, attired in tights, sliding down the pole, to jump in the Batmobile. (Which, coincidentally, is shaped like a giant bat.) Then, racing off to fight crime and against good baseball commentary.

I can see it now: Commissioner Selig has the searchlight, which illuminates the skies over Gotham, with a beam in the shape of a baseball. This tells the Dynamic Douche-o that there is a baseball game to be broadcast, with all sorts of annoyingly stupid remarks to be made. For three hours and forty two minutes. On Fox.

"Holy Hardball, Batman! Joe Girardi is not making a pitching change."

Tool Catalogue...

The Lifeguard Offers These Suggestions:

Regardless of your political orientation, sexual orientation, or point of origination, here are three basic rules to avoid being laughed at by The Lifeguard.

First, don't wear your hat backward. Not only does it look stupid (unless you are Jorge Posada, and you are on a baseball diamond), it...well...looks stupid. It looks even worse when the hat is over-sized, the brim is flat, and it covers the tops of the ears. Or, if you are the President of the United States.

Second, if you are over the age of 16, don't wear a Posada (for example) jersey. (Unless, of course, you are Jorge Posada.) This is another one of those douchey things that guys do (in hopes of impressing girls who are impressed by losers in replica jerseys). The only possible exception would be the guy who wears a New York Knights jersey, bearing the number 9. (Bonus points if you know which Knight wore number 9.)

Finally, don't piss me off.

That is all.

I can't be the only one...

When I Heard That Three Runners Died...
I asked myself, "Shot? Stabbed? How?"

After all, it is Detroit.

Homecoming...

Wait!
Last weekend, The Lifeguard journeyed to dear old Wake Forest to partake in the Homecoming festivities, see old friends, and make a few new ones. Oh, and to see the Demon Deacons beat Maryland.*

The beauty of the Wake Forest campus, even after twenty-two years, still brings a tear to my eye, especially given the fondness I have for my alma mater. And, truth be told, this trip meant more to me than any other. If only I could go back....

But, I can't.

*Sadly, The Lifeguard could not stay for the game; and, as such, missed the opportunity to see a Wake victory--a rarity when I was at university--and to roll The Quad.

Yikes!

Not Only Do I Hate The Fox Sports Broadcast Team...
Erick Aybar and Chone Figgins fail to communicate, allowing Hideki Matsui's infield fly ball drop, impotently, to the dirt in New Yankee Stadium. This allowed Matsui to rack up an infield hit--and an RBI--putting the dreaded Evil Empire up, 2-0, in the first inning.

This prompted me to consider a couple--actually, three--things:

First, how do you get "Sean" from Chone? What are they putting in the water in Leary, Georgia that makes mothers give their children ridiculous names? Where is Leary, Georgia?

Second, is it fair that Hideki Matsui's cousin scores the game? How in the name of sweet Jesus was that a motherhumping hit?

Finally, do they not know the "Rule of Nine" in Bani, Dominican Republic? Shouldn't you make that catch for $460,000.00 a year? Shouldn't you make that catch if you want to make more than $460,000.00 next year? Hell, my 11 year old makes that catch (most of the time) for free. (And, if he doesn't, at least he called it.) Oh, and I almost forgot...47 degrees at game time is not an excuse to wear the hood. There are people who go to see the Green Bay Packers play, in December, without their shirts. He's playing baseball, and the excitement of playing in the ALCS should keep him warm. (Plus, he might have been able to hear Figgins tell him to take it.)

F^%$ing Evil Empire.

And The Lifeguard Wept...

I Hate Norway!
Barack Hussein Obama, America's 44th President, who is also not a Muslim, won the 2009 Edition of the Nobel Peace Prize. Said one member of the committee, Olaf Knudsen, "We gave the award to President Obama because he hates America as much as we do. He is just like Jimmy Carter."

Yes, great. BHO gets a cool mill (after taxes), gets a medal, and guarantees himself a steady stream of invites from the likes of other America haters such as Robert Mugabe, Hugo Chavez, Raul Castro (and don't forget Fidel), and any other tin-pot dictator who laments America's (or the West's) pre-eminence in the world.

I mean, really...why BHO (except for the fact that he talks a good game)?

President Reagan defeated communism. President Bush 41 presided over the dismantling of the Berlin Wall (and formed a coalition of nations to kick Saddam Hussein's ass back to Baghdad). President Clinton got tons of ass. (Literally, tons of ass. I mean, really, did you see Monica Lewinsky?) President Bush 43 finished the job his father started, forming another coalition, enforcing 17 breached UN Resolutions, and driving a murdering, raping thug from power. Did any of these guys get the Nobel? Not a chance.

Instead, President Obama wins it.

If he were really that smart, really that patriotic, he'd have told the Nobel Committee that he didn't want their stinking medal. Instead, a president with nearly no accomplishments in nearly a year in office takes the medal, shits on America, and gives the post-American world something to cheer.

The sad part? There is no where to run. No where to hide.

For their efforts, The Nobel Committee wins the coveted "Dumbass of the Week" award. Unlike the Nobel Peace Prize, this award comes with absolutely nothing but The Lifeguard's scorn and ridicule.

jetBlue?

jetBlows is more like it.
Cheap seats, 35 channels of DirecTV in the seat back in front of you, leather seats, no baggage fees. All good things, indeed.

However, cheap travel also brings with it a glorious collection of retards and nitwits that would, without jetBlue (and AirTran, et al.) be doggin' it.

As I boarded my flight this morning--a short hop from one Northeast airport to another Northeast airport--I endured (albeit with 35 channels of DirecTV in the seat back) the twentysomething couple next to me who attacked each others faces like a ravenous wolverines attacking a...well, whatever ravenous wolverines attack. I might have suggested that the two lust birds get a room; but, that seemed redundant since she had her own pillow.

Now, The Lifeguard is not one to judge anyone (well, yes, I am); but, who in the crikey fuck brings a pillow on a plane? (Especially one that quite clearly doesn't have a clean pillow case and the 3000 threadcount linens that The Lifeguard prefers.)

Across the aisle, the African couple, complete with native headdress and obviously fake gold jewelry, sat down to enjoy their repast of goat fritters and emu egg omelets. The smell--which is to say "stench"--of their sustenance polluted the cabin air for the duration of the short flight. I am rather certain that their carry-on bag contained the family chickens and a small collection of native herbs and plants (or, what passes for health care in Sub-Saharan Africa).

Finally, The Lifeguard was forced to endure the indignity of the day sans Starbucks (since The Lifeguard flat out refuses to drink Pike's Blend), or a tall glass, filled with ice, Grey Goose, and tomato juice.

Fuck, the flight for the next leg of my journey is now being called.

Although The Lifeguard is traveling, The Lifeguard is back.

Regular posting resumes today.

(And, as my friend J might ask: "Are ya busy?")

It's been awhile...

The Lifeguard Has Been Doing His Part!

October, as y'all know, is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. (Frankly, The Lifeguard is aware of breasts twelve months a year, but that's another story.)

So, learn how to perform an exam, ladies. Have a mammogram. Call The Lifeguard. Whatever. Early detection is the key.

Next month, Colorectal Cancer Awareness Thursday. (Face it, the asshole is just not as appealing as a beautiful pair of breasts.)

I was pissed....

They Gave Me A Rolex!
My next-door neighbours, a young lesbian couple, asked me what I wanted for my birthday.

I told them I wanted to watch.

HFWTFMF!?!

MAYBE SHE NEEDS TO EAT MORE TUSCAN KALE?
The First Lady, the Empress Michelle Obama, was in a pickle. (An organic pickle, naturally.) She was out of organic Tuscan kale, so she fired up the motorcade, grabbed a crack team of security personnel, and fucked up Washington D.C. traffic so that she could run to the local farmers market to buy some certified organic veggies.

Now, I don't have a problem with the First Family eating healthy foods. I don't even have a problem with the enormous cost of eating foods that are certified organic. I do, however, take exception at the mobilisation of men and machines so that Mrs. Obama can have a photo opportunity.

So, after a long hiatus, The Lifeguard awards First Lady Michelle Obama the coveted "Dumbass of the Week" award.

And, for the record, she does not have great arms and a fantastic figure.

It wasn't what I thought...

The Lifeguard Was So Excited To See This!

I drove a little farther, hoping for something to break up the monotony of the Chevy HHR and my holiday.

Sadly, it wasn't a quickie. It was a speed bump.

HFWTFMF!

The Chevrolet HHR...

The Lifeguard rented one of these beauties when he was on holiday. It was ugly, uncomfortable, shoddily assembled, ugly, underpowered, (most assuredly) overpriced, cramped, ugly, lacking storage, and ugly. There is no doubt in my mind that the woes at The General are due, in large part, to the fuckwits who designed cars like this one.

Really, as much as The Lifeguard wants to blame the unions for the decline of the American automobile industry, I just can not. It is the fault of the designers who cobbled together this abortion (and others like it). In fact, this car was surely supposed to be a Chevy Tahoe...before it was aborted in the second trimester.

I was happy to have the vacation end so that I could turn in this piece of crap.

Kinda makes me wish I were French...

The Chickens Come Home to Roost

President Barack Hussein Obama (who is not a Muslim) gave British Prime Minister Gordon Brown some DVDs that wouldn't play, and took many opportunities to shit on our oldest--and best--ally. Now, we find out that the PM was working, behind the scenes, to see that Pan Am Flight 103 bomber, Abdulbaset al-Megrahi's release--on humanitarian grounds--was not hampered.

To make matters worse, President Obama (who is still not a Muslim) had no objections to al-Megrahi being freed on humanitarian grounds.

It is enough to make The Lifeguard scream, I tell you.

This murdering son-of-a-bitch participated in the deaths of 270 innocents, then went home to a hero's welcome after being freed because he had terminal cancer. Because someone thought it was the humane thing to do.

As noted previously, if it was a hero's welcome he was going to get, the US Air Force should have provided the fireworks. Or, perhaps today, a little present, delivered on the nose of a cruise missile.

Now I know where the Size 28 stewardesses went...

The Golden Days of Air Travel Are Gone!

In a rare departure from the norm, The Lifeguard boarded a USAirways flight from Logan, headed to parts unknown. From the twisted policy that demands a $20.00 per bag handling fee to the aged, dumpy and overweight flight attendants, it is no wonder that the airlines are in such bad shape these days.

First, the airlines have adopted a policy that encourages people to carry bags on the plane. Add the infrequent travelers to the over-privileged douche bags that already carry on their luggage and you have one crowded aisle with people struggling to lift their personal possessions into a tiny luggage bin. Imagine two hundred people stuffing three hundred bags into space for one hundred and fifty, and you've got modern air travel. And, should your checked bags (for which you have paid a hefty premium) fail to arrive at your destination, do you get your money back? I don't think so.

Second, the flight attendants were all old, dumpy, and fat. (I was particularly fond of the peroxide blond with the short skirt and tight sweater...both of which were just too damned small.) Now, I have nothing against people who are a little heavy; but, when I might just have to rely on an old, out-of-shape woman to save my ass, I get a little leery. (I note that I feel much the same way about policemen and women who have had one doughnut too many.) When the flight attendant can not get down the aisle because of her size (I am not joking about this), it's time for her to go.

Finally, when the flight attendants can not make coherent announcements, as relate to the safety or general operation of the aircraft, I think we have a problem. As we were on our final to Large North Carolina Airport, the connecting flight information was read...poorly, and inaccurately.

Then, this:

"This aircraft is continuing on (argh!) to Cancun, Mexico. All passengers continuing on (again, argh!) to Cancun must deplane from the airplane (huh?!?) with their personal belongings, then recheck-in (can you do this?) with the agent at the top of the Jetway. This is due to security concerns because this plane will be going into international waters."*

The plane was going into international waters? I am glad that I got off when I did.

Fortunately, The Lifeguard arrived safely at his destination. Just in time to hear that the Libyan terrorist responsible for blowing up Pan Am Flight 103 (who is also a Muslim) arrived home to a hero's welcome. If The Lifeguard were in charge, I would have arranged for some fireworks for his arrival. I would have had the US Air Force deliver them.

*I wrote this down right after I heard the announcement. This was confirmed by at least one other passenger.

The Michael Jackson of His Day!

The Questions Surrounding Mozart's Death Remain
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, in late November of 1791, took ill. By the beginning of December, he was dead.

The death of Mozart has led to much speculation: Was it an overdose of laudanum administered by his doctor? Was it syphilis caught while banging groupies in his carriage outside of the Vienna Opera House? Or, was he capped by Franz Joseph Haydn because he tapped Mama Haydn?

Few remember the tortured recovery after Mozart's hair caught fire while performing in Leipzig. And, few remember his bouts with addiction to everything from opium to sex. From wine to sex. (Hey, what can I say. Wolfie loved his poon.)

But, historians have done it. They have learned the true cause of The Great One's death.

It was Antonio Rosetti, a contemporary of Wolfie's, who bust a cap in he ass. All because Wolfie had done dirty, dirty things to Rosetti's twin daughters.

Mystery solved.

I barely understood a word...

Damon Weaver Is Eleven Years Old...
and is a reporter (which is good, because most reporters these days have about the same degree of intellect). Because he is eleven, I hesitate to make any mean comments. But, because he has decided to grab his fifteen minutes of fame, I figure the little scamp is fair game.

Mush-mouthed Weaver, a fifth-grader from Pahokee, Florida, became the youngest person to interview a sitting President of the United States...and, he became the President's homeboy, too. (Whatever the fuck that means.)

Weaver asked questions about school lunch (it sounded like he wants every lunch to be something incomprehensible and French Fries), whether he could meet the First Daughters, and how to make schools better with less money. (Okay, so I made up the shit about the First Daughters.)

You watch it and decide.

Things to do before I die...

Former President Bill Clinton Secures Their Freedom!

Then, when they got on the airplane home, the former president said, "I got you off, now you get me off. Heh heh heh."

Conjugal visits, my ass...

"Thanks, Helen."
The tray had a china cup, filled with strong, black coffee, a croissant, and The Wall Street Journal. Mad Dog propped his feet up on the desk and snapped open the paper, sipping the steaming coffee as the warden's secretary closed the door behind her.

Moments later, the door opens, and the warden, arriving a few minutes late, drops his attache case.

"You're late," Mad Dog says.

"You're in my office," says the warden.

"Yeah, about that. I'll need the desk for at least three hours a day. I am handling some investments for the guards, and I need to be able to take care of business."

"Listen..."

"Warden, are you forgetting who runs this place? Oh, and I think Nushawn slipped in the shower. Damned mess, if you ask me."

"Yes sir, Mr. Madoff."

"Call me 'Mad Dog,' warden."

Mad Dog collects his things and leaves the office. Over his shoulder, he says, "I have a conjugal visit this afternoon. Can you see that a bottle of Pol Roger is on ice for me? My wife loves champagne."

Next, Mad Dog gets busy....