Well, it wasn't quite like that.

Mother Nature Opens A Can Of Whoop-Ass!

Typical of New Englanders, there were myriad complaints of cold weather (in December) and snow (in December, in the northeast). Then, a massive snowstorm was forecast, causing New Englanders to flock to the stores (to stock up on bottled water and shitty beer) and to forget all that they ever knew about driving in the snow.

Before flake one fell, The Lifeguard's neighbours were idling their cars (to warm their car interiors and the planet (with the emission of greenhouse gases)) and preparing buckets of sand and salt, organising snow shovels, and fueling snow blowers. They were filling their larders with staples, anticipating weeks--or months--of being snowed in by the Blizzard of 2010. A visit to the local supermarket was not unlike a shopping trip in Cuba: Empty shelves, and surly workers. (The only thing missing was a copy of Granma and a picture of the Maximum Leader.)

As the storm took hold, the plows began patrolling the streets, blades up, as empty Dunkin' Donuts Styrofoam accumulated in the dark recesses of their cabs. Indeed, America (or, at least the snowplows) run on Dunkin's. Indeed, with several inches on the ground, the plows were doing little (or nothing) to help the situation, as the blades were a good foot off of the ground; and, sand trucks were not sanding. (It is all a part of the Governor Deval Patrick's austerity plan, designed to close the Commonwealth's budget deficit.)

At midnight, the snow was still falling; and, The Lifeguard was settling in for a restful night with a tumbler of single malt and a good book. (That, and thoughts of digging out of the mess that will be left when the plows start plowing, in another hour or so.)

Then, came the morning, and an end to the snowfall. Gusting winds had caused the snow to drift against the house, and the plows had closed the end of the drive. (Thank Christ for snow blowers...and sons.) And, with the sun shining, and winds blowing, The Lifeguard took to his own little piece of Global Warming, and cleaned up.

Christmas Hangover...

The Reason For The Season...

...is apparently to spend assloads of cash on (often) meaningless gifts, for people we love (but, on whom we would never spend money). Then, there are the children.

The Lifeguard is all about the children, and ensuring that they have safe, happy homes. That they receive thoughtful gifts, and that they understand that the presents are merely an ancillary benefit of the day.

The Lifeguard knows people who brag about spending many thousands of dollars on their children, "...so that they can have a good day."

Now, truth be told, little eight year old Savannah is probably going to make the same life choices (including unwed motherhood and some sort of exotic dancing) regardless of whether or not she gets the new iPhone 4, or the newest attire from Hollister. And, clearly, when an eight year old receives $1,000.00 worth of gifts for Christmas, the bar is set so high that each subsequent Christmas requires greater and greater expenditures. (Not unlike the Obama Administration's effort to stimulate the economy.)

Much more agreeable to The Lifeguard is the friend who gave her daughter cards indicating donations to various charities. "Well done," The Lifeguard says. The meaningful contributions teach a variety of desirable behaviours, and ensure that the future generations have a true grasp of the real meaning of Christmas.

That having been said, The Lifeguard offers this final thought for this December 26th:

It's not too late to do something to make the world a better place. Rather than spending more cash at post-Christmas sales, give $50.00 to the local food bank. Maybe $25.00 to the church. Perhaps $100.00 to The Lifeguard. (Hey, it was worth a try.)

Life is good.

The Lifeguard offers this hope that every reader had a happy and joyous Christmas, and had the opportunity to reflect on the wonder of the season.

Santa, The Pimp!

Merry Christmas, Y'all!

The Lifeguard wishes you and yours a very Merry Christmas. One filled with peace, love, and good will toward men.

Peace!

(And, for the record, Santa is a pimp because he is always talking about "Hos.")

Need a gift for that special Muslim woman in your life?

Call 1-800-Burqa-Gram!

All orders come gift-wrapped in a beautiful organza gift box, along with a card written by our own team of professional greetings-writers. Greetings, such as:

This burqa is blue

Roses are red

With any luck

The infidels will be dead!

Order by December 7th to get free FedEx shipping and toner cartridge.

Orders over $100.00 get a free Spanish passport and suicide bomber vest.

Call 1-800-Burqa-Gram, now (since the electricity in your Third World shithole is likely to be shut off for the night, soon).

Another hiatus ending?

The Lifeguard has been receiving a lot of correspondence from his fans--all six of them--and there are a few common themes to the messages.

And, while The Lifeguard is not quite ready to "fuck off and die", he is ready to resume a more regular schedule of posting; and, a little Tweeting, as well.

You want more? You got it.

More to follow...

The best one-loss team in the nation?

President Barack Hussein Obama Is Still Not a Muslim...

...but his Kenyan grandmother prays that he will be. (This is opposed to his "...typical white person..." grandmother.) The big question is whether or not he will cede America to the ash heap of history before or after he converts.

The Obama administration has done much these last twenty-two months to speed the process, from over-seeing profligate spending (which made even President Bush fils look like a piker) to tolerating Janet Napolitano's incompetence. From the bailout of General Motors (wouldn't a mandate for diesel cars make more sense than the Chevy Volt?) to the insistence of letting the Bush tax cuts expire. On top of that, President Obama presided over the Democrat Party's biggest ass-whooping in something like fifty years.

The American public (living outside of New York, New England and California) have had enough of taxing, spending, silly-ass government mandates and turn-your-head-and-cough before you board a plane. (The Lifeguard notes that his eighteen-year-old Irish-looking nephew got his first rectal exam as he flew home from college. But, then again, maybe the IRA is back in the game.) And, having had enough, the electorate sent folks like Marco Rubio (R-FL) and Rand Paul (R-KY) to Washington. (Interesting that Senator-elect Rand Paul replaces a guy, Senator Jim Bunning, who pitched a perfect game and was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame.)

And, a better man--former President William Clinton, for instance--would have read the tea leaves and started planning his move to the centre. This douche, however, grabs his Teleprompter and heads to India, confident that his agenda is right for America.

Rather than firing Big Sis and leading the charge to renew the expiring tax cuts, President Obama talks about the importance of the TSA's efforts to stop terrorists (while trying them--and losing--in civilian courts) and the need to tax the mess out of the people who create jobs.

Seriously, if the administration wants to remake America as a Third World shithole, they are doing a pretty good job. (Lots of illegal immigrants, high taxes, and economic malaise. Like Sweden, only without the handsome, English-speaking population.) At least General Motors is not being sold to the Chinese.

Rather than fret about the racism and stupidity of the Tea Party, the administration (and the Democrat Party) need to think about making a few changes. (And, if they need help with the tea baggers, they can call Congressman Barney Frank, D-MA.)

A starting point? Fire Ms. Napolitano, and adopt some sane measures with regard to airport security, before the next plane flies into a building (or blows up, mid-air). Make permanent the tax cuts, and reform the corporate tax structure. (America is a horrible place to do business, as compared to other countries.) Start clearing the stables that are Guantanamo Bay, and fire AG Eric Holder. (Civil libertarians will only complain briefly, and we won't be faced with the prospect of juries finding terrorists not guilty.) Tell Senator Harry Reid (D-ip Shit) to cut the shit and find some sane means of dealing with the problem of illegal immigration. (Hint, it involves deportation, and enforcement of the present laws, not more goodies for the illegals who voted for Senator Reid, et al..)

But, The Lifeguard is pretty sure that the Administration will continue the status quo.

Bastards.

Thanksgiving Redux

The Lifeguard Saves...

...room for pie.

Thanksgiving is The Lifeguard's favourite holiday, for a reason.

No presents, no songs, no trees to decorate, and no garbage bags of crumpled-up wrapping paper. Just one big-ass turkey, trimmings, and pie. Lots of pie.

So, at this moment--two days post-holiday--The Lifeguard wants to mention a few of the things for which he is thankful:

Living in America. (Living in the United States, as well as the fabulous James Brown tune.)

The soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines who keep us safe. (Coastguardsmen, too.)

The Lifeguard's friends (and the people who actually visit this site). But, mainly, The Lifeguard's friends.

Janet Napolitano. A special thanks to you, Big Sis. You managed to unite America against the government in a way that no other single person could. (Oh, and thanks to Keith, who gave The Lifeguard a very thorough pat-down...and a lovely meal at P.F. Chang's.)

Off to make turkey omelets.

Peace, y'all!

Gawd, I love multiculturalism!

More Good News From The Religion Of Peace!

The highest court in the United Arab Emirates has just okayed wife beating. The one caveat: Don't leave any marks.

O.J. Simpson, who has tentatively selected "O.J. X" as his Muslim name, has asked if, perhaps, he could become a judge in the U.A.E., upon his release.

"No one understands the nuances like me," Simpson said. "I'm not saying that the guy was right. I'm just saying, 'I understand.'"

Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who has derided the use of torture, but has defended the use of foreign law by American judges, could not be reached for comment.

And the answer is...

What's The Question?

The citizenry of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts is in high dudgeon over Question 3, which will appear on the November ballot. The initiative will roll back the Commonwealth's stupid 6.25 percent sales tax rate to 3 percent.

The folks are torqued because they fall into one of two camps. On one side, there are the liberals who never met a tax that they didn't like (and who make statements like, "...it's not illegal to be [an] illegal [alien] in Massachusetts."). The other camp, led by The Lifeguard are pissed because, even if passed, they know that the governor and the General Court (which, like General Motors, is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Democrat party) will raise their collective middle finger (and, possibly, our taxes) at the voters.

From The Lifeguard's perspective, lower taxes are a good thing. (Ask Senator John Heinz-Kerry about taxes, especially with respect to sailboats.). Consider, also, that the Commonwealth shares a border with tax-free New Hampshire (state motto, "Fuck off and die!"), which attracts Massachusetts shoppers who are looking to save 6 percent on TVs, washing machines, and other items. For 3 percent, more of those shoppers will stay home.

Further, the Massachusetts Teachers Association ("Association" because many public school graduates don't equate associations with unions) opposes the reduction. "It'll clearly lead to larger class sizes and more illiteracy," they argue. (As if there is some sort of magic correlation between the two.)

Sure, it might mean less money for state government; and, possibly cuts in non-education services. (Call The Lifeguard for a few ideas.)

But, if the unions and the tax-fattened hyenas are opposed, then The Lifeguard is not.

Vote to roll back the sales tax in November.

My Name is Earl

For We New Englanders

who endured wall-to-wall coverage of the arrival of [Insert Storm Type Here] Earl, the storm itself was a bit of a disappointment for all of us. Not because we didn't get a Katrina-like ass-whooping; but, because we had to listen to the chattering skulls, standing in front of green screens, and had to tolerate all of the hysteria associated with the anticipated arrival of the storm. In the end, it was nothing. Nothing at all.

Business or Pleasure?

Pleasure!

The Lifeguard took a ride, to Ogunquit, Maine, to enjoy a tanning opportunity in the waning days of this New England summer.

The sun was bright, the air temperature was close to 80 degrees, and the beach was crowded. The Lifeguard did a brief talent-check, and found things to be seriously lacking.

Three observations from the Lifeguard's beach towel.

First, if you are over the age of sixteen, you probably should not wear a bikini (unless you make a living by appearing on the pages of Vogue (or Playboy)). The Lifeguard noted exactly one (that's right, one) woman who had the figure to pull off her bathing suit choice. Wait, bad choice of words. One woman who could actually wear the bikini without looking like a tramp (or a fucking retard).

Now, face it, bikinis are nice; but, The Lifeguard prefers one-piece bathing suits. (Are you paying attention, ladies?) Not only are they sexy, they leave something to the imagination. (And, The Lifeguard has one hell of an imagination.)

Second, men (with the possible exception of Michael Phelps at the Olympics) should never wear a Speedo. Ever. Especially if you are fat, forty, and French-Canadian.

Finally, tattoos on fifty-something women look...um...horrible. Remember that, ladies. That tramp stamp that looks good at twenty will look like a UPC symbol when you are fifty. Especially if you are a sun-worshiper, and your skin has taken on the colour (and texture) of fine Corinthian leather.

All right, ladies and gentlemen, The Lifeguard is going sailing.

Peace!

HFWTFMF?!?

Stupid Is As Stupid Does...

The Lifeguard is never at a loss for words. Of course, blazing stupidity causes an occasional moment of silence; but, then, he recovers. (And has a lot to say.)

Several years ago, The Lifeguard was in Nashville, Tennessee (for business, of course) and he was sitting in the hotel bar. There, off in a corner, was a karaoke machine (not unlike the ones found in bad Japanese movies) and a very drunk woman clutching the microphone like a crack whore clutches her pipe.

"I want to shing you a shong that remindsh me of thish wunnerful city," she said with a drunken lilt.

The music started...

...and she sang, "Walking in Memphis."

Which reminds The Lifeguard of a former client (and heroin addict) who gets liquored up in his local, then proceeds to slam his (rental) car into a telephone pole (just avoiding the local marked police cruiser).

Approached by the officer, the dazed (and very intoxicated) client stumbles to the back of the car and leans on the trunk, which has sprung open in the crash. Thinking it is latched, he stands and the trunk pops open. All the way open.

Their eyes meet, then turn to the trunk, and the gym bag containing 454 individually packaged hits of heroin, and his works.

Before the officer could say anything (or the client could say, "How did that get in there?"), he utters those immortal words, "I know what you are thinking. It's all mine."

Then, the officer uttered the other immortal words, "You have the right to remain silent."

Why?

In the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, it is possible to get extra time to take the written portion of one's driving test if you read slowly (or can not read).

In a state where driving a car is a blood sport (with unreasonably high automobile insurance rates), it seems that this is one of the most ill-conceived feel-good plans ever. Really, do we want a (possibly illegal) driver trying to negotiate 128 (at 80 mph, in a Toyota Corolla POS) while trying to read road signs?

This is reason number thirty why illegal immigrants (and the faint-of-heart) should not be allowed to operate a motor vehicle in the Bay State.

It also troubles The Lifeguard that a person with no licence can own and insure a car. The Lifeguard understands the rationale for the aged; but, for others? It's motherhumping insane.

But, then again, Massachusetts is the home of the late Senator Edward M. Kennedy. And that's all that needs to be said.

Things to do at work...

...When You Are Bored At Work...

The Lifeguard was waxing nostalgic this morning, thinking of a life way less ordinary.

Some thoughts from the deep, dark recesses of The Lifeguard's soul. (The names have been changed--but not by much--to protect the innocent...or the unwilling.)

Being funny is like hitting a 325 yard drive or a 95 mph fastball. If one tries to hard, the likelihood of a spectacular whiff or a long, loud out is virtually assured. That having been said, The Lifeguard's attempts at 325 yard drives and 95 mph fastballs are pretty fucking hilarious.

There is a reggae song about Barack Obama. Like his presidency, it has a beat that is, at first, catchy. Then, it just gets downright annoying. "Move to Switzerland" annoying. At no point do the lyrics mention his illegal alien aunt, his absent father, his "typical white" grandmother, single-payer health care, or the Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Listening to the song made The Lifeguard dumber. It also made The Lifeguard want to kill whitey.

Why is there Black Entertainment Television? Do they play slasher movies and provide an opportunity for the viewer to scream, "Don't go in there, he got a knife!" (Judging by The Lifeguard's recent trip to the movies, he thinks not.) Shouldn't there be White Entertainment Television? (The Sundance Channel doesn't count.)

Saving someone's life should earn a thank you, or a pat on the back, not a gun in the face. (Thank Christ it was a .25 and not something in the .30s or .40s.) In defence of The Lifeguard's crazy-ass client, heavy-duty anti-psychotics were involved.

And, if an employer can't legally hire illegal immigrants, why is said employer not allowed to ask a suspected illegal for his papers, especially since federal statute requires the holder of a green card to have it in their possession? Why does our legal system allow said illegal to sue his employer?

Which brings The Lifeguard to border security in general. Why not just shoot them as they come across? And, the United States government wants to build a fence on the southern border. Why not the northern border, too? Fucking frostbacks.

A half dozen years ago, The Lifeguard could have had a Social Security card, a birth certificate, and a driving licence in under an hour. I presume that if a white guy in the 'burbs could do it, an immigrant can as well. Target the purveyors of the phony papers and enforce the laws, as written.

Of course, that requires resolve.

Finally, The Lifeguard is reminded of a friend who dips Skoal. His wife, after years of hectoring him to quit, said, "Fine, if you want to die a slow, painful death, go right ahead." His reply? "I already said, 'I do.'"

Ripples on the Water

The Lifeguard Speaks

It is hard to believe, but The Lifeguard is frequently annoyed (and amused) by the actions and words of the world around.

The driver of the Prius, for instance, who had a "Somewhere in Kenya, a village is missing its idiot" bumper sticker, caused a good eleven minutes of mirth. That said Prius was on a Boston street made it all the more delicious.

A bag of airline peanuts bearing the warning, "Processed in a facility that processes peanuts" is just plain stupid. From where The Lifeguard sits, the deal with peanut allergies is this: If a person with said allergy can't look at a packet, marked "peanuts" and know that this is an item to be avoided, then said person might just need to go into anaphylactic shock (and, if they survive, be sterilised).

A bar with a sign out front that says, "Shot and a Beer, $2.00" is an oasis for The Lifeguard. Especially when in the company of a beautiful woman (or six).

Flight attendants who are obese and rude are rather annoying. Not only is air travel a service industry, it is a (generally) poorly managed enterprise, at that. That being said, why not hire folks who are polite, cheerful, and in shape. (The Lifeguard does not want to rely upon a nasty blimp to evacuate the airplane. And, if that is how The Lifeguard is going to leave this life, he wants to be looking at a hot chick, not an ugly, miserable fuck.)

And, please tell The Lifeguard why he can't buy his own beer and carry it on the plane. He'll drink responsibly.

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.)

The Beatings Will Continue Until (My) Morale Improves

The World Needs A Good Ass-Kicking...

...and The Lifeguard might just be the man to do the honours. Indeed, The Lifeguard has been compiling a list of those destined for some serious ass-kickery.

First up, companies that establish call centres in foreign lands. Actually, that is not quite accurate. If the call centre is opened in the United Kingdom, or Ireland, then it's all good. It's when corporations that have a largely English-speaking clientele (e.g., Wachovia Bank or Bank of America) open customer service centres in India and Bangladesh that The Lifeguard gets pissed.

Not only are we being charged more for fewer services ("If you don't have an account with us, that will be $5.00 to cash that check drawn on our bank."), we are getting saddled with ten minutes on hold to speak with some assbag who doesn't speak comprehensible English. The Lifeguard suspects that if he pressed dos, he'd get someone who spoke impeccable Español. English? Not so much.

In a perfect world, "pressing two" would direct the caller to Rosetta Stone.

Asshats!

The second round of ass-beatings goes to those morons who use the (made-up) word, "irregardless." The Lifeguard knows many self-important windbags who use this word. In the past, he has laughed quietly at them. Starting today, The Lifeguard heaps scorn and ridicule upon them.

Also included are those who talk about spending "quality time" with their children, working "24/7", or "providing free health care to all Americans."

Shit, this is probably a pretty big list.

The Lifeguard is going to need some breakfast before he gets started.

HFWTFMF?!?

"Vegas Whore!"
The Lifeguard was contacted recently by a fan.

"What does 'HFWTFMF' mean?" she asked.

The Lifeguard told her.

"Well," she asked (after the wails of laughter had subsided), "when does one use this?"

So, Mel Gibson, one of The Lifeguard's favourite actors is caught out calling his ex-girlfriend, Oksana Grigorieva (who is probably a Russian spy, a horrible actress, a gold-digger, or all three) a "...Vegas bitch, a Vegas whore." He also used other epithets, including the so-called "N-word."

Now, aside from the fact that Mr. Gibson wants his chick to be a lady in public and a wanton whore in the bedroom, The Lifeguard can not really figure out what the problem is. Oh, wait, Ms. Grigorieva recorded the conversation, then released it to the press. What an ungrateful bitch. Not only does Mr. Gibson give the Russian one hell of a recommendation for her acting career, he also gave (or will give) her many millions of dollars for spitting out a child. His child. She also gets some scratch from Timothy Dalton (the Welsh James Bond) for being the mother of his child.

"I vass affraid he'd beat me," Grigorieva said. (Probably.) "I vass affraid that my acting career vould end up like Jesus in The Passion of the Christ."

Twunt.

Sure, people in relationships argue. They say some mean-ass shit. Stuff that might be a basis for breaking up with the person. Generally, however, this mean-ass shit is not recorded, then released to the press.

So, when Mel Gibson woke to the news that his Vegas whore had not only taped their fight, but released it to the press, he screamed, "Holy fuck! What the fuck, motherfucker?!?"

He also learned a valuable lesson: "Never write when you can speak. Never speak when you can nod. Never nod when you can wink."

Oh, and next time you bang someone, wear a condom.

And, for the record, The Lifeguard is buying the entire Mel Gibson collection.

HFWTFMF?!?

They Are Black. They Are Stars.

The Lifeguard was driving to work, listening to NPR, and I heard a story about the "...black stars of Ghana."

The Lifeguard stopped, thinking that this is some seriously racist shit. Black stars? It's an African nation, and I am pretty sure that the players on the national team were black, were stars.

Seriously. It's the World Cup. Nations from around the world coming together, and here is this self-important turd making race an issue when talking about the Ghanaian side. If the US team were called "The White Stars of America", there would be some hardcore stuff happening. Protests, boycotts, mayhem.

The Lifeguard was fired up about this.

Fortunately, one of The Lifeguard's employees is from Ghana, and an explanation was in the offing.

Then, The Lifeguard found out that the team is called "The Black Stars" because the star on the Ghanaian flag is...black.

Who knew?

Why we are fat.

What A Segue!

The Lifeguard was recently in Washington, D.C., and was approached, at least twice, by strange men on Segways. The first looked homeless. He was in filthy trousers and a sweat-stained white T-shirt, dragging two of the strange conveyances by their necks. The second was clearly a tour guide, with a stable of the two-wheeled machines and nasty-ass bicycle helmets.

Later, while walking around the District, I saw the ultimate short bus tour of D.C., with overweight men and women tooling around in the afternoon sun on their rented Segways.

No wonder America is now the most overweight nation in the world. People who would have walked fifteen years ago (and who need the exercise more than ever now) have a means of transport that obviates the need for any physical activity. They can go straight from their Power Chair to their Segway and back again. Accessibility is now a right; and, the obese are the next protected class.

In another few years, America will be a nation of couch-sitting, Segway-riding, lazy-ass douche bags.

Not The Lifeguard, though.

He's going for a ride...

on his bicycle.

TSA?

Travel Sucks Already...
To The Lifeguard, a man with forty-plus years of domestic and international travel under his belt, flying anywhere blows. Not only does he have to deal with myriad fares and senseless restrictions when purchasing his ticket, he also has to worry about overweight passengers shoe-horned into one seat (when they should have two...or a gastric by-pass), paying $25.00 for the privilege of checking a suitcase, and a complete lack of anything once the wheels are safely locked in the upright position.

Now, the TSA, the people who brought you long lines at security and two-hour pre-flight waits in barren airports now bring you...longer lines at security and three-hour pre-flight waits in even more barren airports. One might think that between the airlines and the TSA, the goal is to deter terrorism by deterring people from flying at all.

Certainly, weeding out the morons who fly would be okay with The Lifeguard. (Really, any family that wears matching lime green T-shirts to travel should probably just go Greyhound. The Lifeguard saw you at BWI security, you know who y'all are.) In fact, The Lifeguard would be happy to see some means by which the traveling herd is thinned.

Perhaps an additional question--verified by the ticket kiosk or agent--about the frequency of travel.

Agent: "Sir, have you been given any items by a stranger?"

Lifeguard: "No."

Agent: "Have you flown more than ten times in the past two years?"

Lifeguard: "No."

Agent: "I'm sorry. Wait, it says here that you have flown over 400,000 miles in your lifetime. Please go directly to our special security line."

But, no....

The TSA, the people who brought us bare feet at security, laptops taken out of their cases, and 3/1/1 have now brought us...

THE FULL BODY SCANNER!

This magnificent device, purchased with American Recovery and Reinvestment Act (ARRA) funds aims to prevent terrorists from getting on the airplane by preventing terrorists (and everyone else) from ever getting through security.

What The Lifeguard means is that these babies cause such a drag at security that absolutely no one gets through in time to make their flight. If we can't stop the Richard Reids of the world from sneaking bombs onto planes, we'll stop everyone.

The millimeter wave scanners, also known as "naked scanners", are highly sensitive devices that detect concealed weapons by showing security personnel a virtual naked picture of the traveler. Sadly, in order for the geniuses at TSA to see the weapons, one is required to remove shoes (still), belt, watch, wallet, change, and any other items on one's person. It would be faster (and more effective) to simply ask the traveler to please place his weapon on the table before going through the checkpoint.

Recently, The Lifeguard encountered the new technology at BOS (and later, at BWI). In each instance, an additional five minutes was tacked on to The Lifeguard's wait at the checkpoint, leading The Lifeguard to conclude that a strip search would be faster.

The Lifeguard hates waiting at airports, and has been known to do a Full OJ (running through airports, jumping obstacles) in order to make his flight. So, the millimeter wave-occasioned delay at BOS was an unwelcome discovery. And, after the audible gasps from the back room (and the ensuing strip search by eight female TSA personnel, and a TSA guy called Bruce), he finally got to his flight.

On the return trip, the machine at BWI didn't work, after a half-dozen attempts to make it go.

This, after removing everything.

Shit, if the technology is so good, then why can't the machine tell the difference between, say, a watch and a Sig Sauer P226? A shoe and a shoe bomb? A belt and a box cutter?

The Lifeguard is going to have to discuss this with someone.

Maybe Bruce, when he takes The Lifeguard out for dinner and drinks next Friday.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?

Burst Pipe?
Blowout Preventer?
Broken Plans?
Big Problem?
No, just British Petroleum.

You're Out!

And You're Ugly, Too!


(With apologies to Durwood Merrill.)

The Lifeguard is a baseball umpire, working games at a variety of levels, in a variety of places. I will occasionally work a summer instructional league game, followed by a youth league game. It's not always the ideal situation; but, it sure is a lot of fun.

Over the course of the years, I have wondered about many things, not in the least of which are these.

Have you ever noticed that the people who are telling the batter--their sons and daughters, usually--how to hit probably couldn't hit water if they fell out of a boat.

"Keep your eye on the ball!" Sure, you have to watch the ball, but when the pitcher fires a 92 mph fast ball, most of these clowns are doing just that. Sometimes, they swing impotently. Other times, they don't swing at all. The best part? It's usually the umpire's fault.

"You weren't consistent" and "my pitcher didn't get those calls" are the standard excuses.

"Your pitcher didn't get those calls because your pitcher wasn't consistent," is my stock answer.

I love hearing "take one for the team," or "wear it."

"Yeah, tell you what, douchebag. Come on down here and let me hit you with a 92 mph heater...or, even an 82 mph deuce. We'll see how you like 'taking one for the team.'"

Of course, the coaches are the best, especially when they ask such knowing questions, like "what's the strike zone today?"

"Um, whatever it says in the rule book?"

Or, in a fast pitch softball game, where the batter is trying to slap her way on base and gets hit by a ball bouncing off of the ground. "Didn't that hit her in the box?"

"No, coach. I think it hit her in the leg."

Or, after a batter goes down swinging. "Was that a strike?"

"Yes. Because he swung the bat, ya jackass."

But, the pinnacle of stupidity was the coach at a small New England college who came out to chat after the following situation:

Runner at first, bunt fielded by the pitcher, throw to SS (covering second). Bad throw, pulled foot (the plate umpire could see him off the bag from the plate), runner safe.

The coach comes out to complain that this was a "horseshit call." He said that since the SS was "...around the bag, trying to turn two..." the runner should be out. I told him that the throw was bad and everyone in the stands could see that the SS was off the bag.

To which the coach replied, "Well, what are you, the defender of the rulebook?"

I told him that I thought that was in the job description.

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?"