How to WIN! August 23, 2015Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Man Laws.
… at Rock Paper Scissors.
It’s Science, beyotches!
Pooping Cyclist Causes Fire July 23, 2015Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Gardening.
Yep… he tried to burn his toilet paper, you know, for The Environment, and set the hillside on fire.
BOISE — Bureau of Land Management officials say a cyclist who couldn’t hold it is responsible for starting a fire that scorched more than 73 acres in the Boise foothills.
According to BLM spokeswoman Carrie Bilbao, a man was cycling in the foothills when he stopped to defecate in a ravine. Afterwards, the man tried to get rid of the waste by lighting his toilet paper on fire. The man apparently tried to bury the burning waste to extinguish it, but an ember spread to nearby dry grass.
“I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go,” Bilbao said.
Well, at least he owned up to the deed.
Bilbao said the man came forward and told the BLM he might be responsible for the blaze. The man’s story matched “evidence” found at the scene, according to investigators.
Protip: Don’t be burning toilet paper in dry grass on a hot day.
Pin the Tail on the Donkey July 3, 2015Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Politics.
Yep, Bill Whittle.
This is Fascinating June 27, 2015Posted by daveintexas in Ballistics, Crime, Economics, Handblogging, History, Literature, Man Laws, Mufuckin Pie!, Nature Shit, Philosophy, Politics, Sex, Sitemeter, slutbags, Stupid shit, Technology, Terrorist Hemorrhoids, WTF?.
And a little unnerving. A real time map of global cyber attacks.
Prankster Pet Labels June 5, 2015Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Ducks, News.
Check out the rest here:
Daylight Savings Time March 7, 2015Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime.
It’s more complicated than you thought:
Daylight Saving Time: A bad idea.
Like a lot of hardworking Americans, I often complain that there aren’t enough hours in the day. That’s why I dread what happens this weekend, when we’re all supposed to “spring forward” between sundown on Saturday and sunup on Sunday.
I want my hour back!
I know, I know: It will be returned to me later this year, when we “fall back” on the weekend of October 29-30. But here at NRO, we’re all about standing athwart history yelling “stop!” This Daylight Saving scheme, in contrast, demands that we holler “faster!” or “reverse!”
Can we please slow down and get something straight? There is simply no way to “save daylight.” People can spin the hands of their clocks like roulette wheels, but come Monday here in Washington, D.C., we’re still going to have sunshine for about 12 hours and 45 minutes. The sun can rise at a time of day we call dawn or Howdy Doody Time or whatever–but the stubborn facts of astronomy are at work here and they can’t be wished away.
The reason we have Daylight Saving Time (DST), of course, is because the politicians have mandated it. Washington is much better at wasting things than saving them, but federal lawmakers nevertheless spent much of the 20th century insisting, with typical modesty, that they could “save daylight.” (Why couldn’t they instead have tried to save Social Security?)
For Michael January 24, 2015Posted by daveintexas in Art, Ballistics, Crime, Ducks, Handblogging, History, Honor, Man Laws, Mufuckin Pie!, Nature Shit, Philosophy.
The flowers showed up 15 minutes before the service started. I think it would have driven Michael nuts, so that’s something. He was a bit of a planner and organizer.
My favorite Michael story with Cathy was about the first IB gathering, a Superbowl party at their home in Ohio. They were planning food for this big get together and for some reason they took my chili recipe from a post seriously.
That recipe was total bullshit. I loaded it up with insane hotness that no human would consume. Habanero, too many jalapenos, Tabasco, diesel fuel and some nuclear waste (even Tushar would have said “dude”). I was just funning with everybody. Anyway I was on my way to their house and Cathy called me and wanted to ask if she could tone down the habanero. I was completely confused.. tone down the what? For what?
And she said “your chili recipe”.
My chili recipe? What chili recipe? “From the blog post”.
A moment while driving on the interstate in Ohio.. then I remembered. “You MADE THAT SHIT?”
Yes, it seemed a little hot so we were wondering if we could cut some of the peppers. I laughed.. “YOU CAN’T MAKE THAT IT WAS A JOKE. DON’T EAT THAT, IT’S PURE GASOLINE IT WAS A JOKE. RUN! CALL THE FD, GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER OUT IT’S TOXIC WASTE”
She said something about Michael wanting to make it for me (which could be a clue).
I think he actually liked supremely hot sauces more than me, he kept pimping that Marie whatever nuclear stuff all the time.
Anyway we all laughed about it and I remember drinking a beer with him later and telling him “I can’t believe you even made that shit” and all the while he kept insisting it seemed legit to him.
That was kind of our friendship. I loved tweaking him and seeing when I could get a rise out of him. Sometimes he’d take the bait, sometimes not. But we always laughed about it after. I’m gonna miss that.
These pics are purposefully not centered. Out of respect for the friendship he gave me. Which was huge.
Doll Commits Toy Suicide December 20, 2014Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Entertainment.
I denounce myself because I laughed at this:
How Not to Scrape Ice Off Your Car November 24, 2014Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Gardening.
No Wimmin Runners Allowed July 9, 2014Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Heroes.
I had never heard of this before my friend, Kelso, the Skydiving Beach Bum, sent me the photo.
Race official Jock Semple tries to push Kathy Switzer off the road after she attempts to run the Boston Marathon, which at the time was men’s only.
Number 390 pushing Jock away was Kathy’s boyfriend.
Guess what year this happened?
Guess what year women were finally able to run in the Boston Marathon?
Sting sings with somebody that will surprise you April 5, 2014Posted by Retired Geezer in Crime, Ducks.
Yeah, I didn’t know that Iron Man could sing either, but he does a good job.