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.