Helmet

Hi -

I woke up this morning with an excessive need to pee, but the single digit temperatures outside combined with the 16 or 17 blankets I was under made it a journey that was all but impossible. And my bed pan was missing. So as I lay there and watched the morning news delivered by Diane Sawyer, who I have an odd crush on, I tuned in when they were talking about Rod Blagojevich. I have been following this news intently, and now it is starting to annoy like a pebble rolling around deep within your Zodiacs that you can't get out and feel with every step and dance move. The Governor and his hair need to step down. But his helmet....well, his helmet is very impressive. I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to gawk at it in person last summer at a Cubs game with my brother and his girlfriend...and let me say, it is nothing short of a perfectly sculpted mass of gel and loose change. I was quite taken aback. It kind of reminds me of the "Big Boy" hamburger mascot. Plus, it sits perfectly atop his oddly shaped peanut head...and the fact that his eyes sit a bit too close together is but a bonus for admirers. Having said that, I am tired of reading about it and hearing about it. I think I'd rather watch a marathon of On Golden Pond, Freddie Got Fingered and  Cool As Ice while keeping that EXCRUCIATING song "Arms of the Angels" by one of the Lillith Fair ladies on repeat. Hell, give me paper cuts for good measure. That song makes me want to drink Drain-O. Also, can we all join forces to inform journalists that the whole ".......Gate" and "....palooza" has run its course? Think about it, every time a scandal comes out it is dubbed something unbelievably creative like "Palin-gate" or "Blagojapalooza". Time to stir the pot, folks. 

So, in light of the recent Rod news, I found this article in the Chicago Tribune this morning and wanted to share...good for a laugh. I've been to this watering hole more than once...and plan on returning soon to see the new artwork. Perhaps at lunch.

In other news, I still don't like pooping in public places.

Enjoy! 

Tyler

www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/arts/chi-talk-ale-artdec19,0,5136319.story

An Open Letter

Dear World,

After what has seemed like an eternity of seeing some pathetic done named "Spencer" and a manufactured specimen named "Heidi" plastered all over the checkout aisles and newsstands and in my favorite porn knockoffs, I finally had enough and googled them today. So, these are people from The Hills? Wow. 

I have never watched The Hills. I don't know what it is about...but now I am aware that it is a reality show. Got it. I would see that Heidi on magazines and just figured she was some kind of a pop star or someone that youngsters drool to and get happy pants over in High School Musical. I was wrong. I didn't care enough to guess who the Spencer guy was, but I did and still do believe he appreciates HUMMERS. And tanning.

This just begs the following question: what the hell is the matter with people? People watch this? And not only do people watch it, evidently a lot of people watch this. I don't get it...it genuinely confuses me. However, velcro often puzzles me so that isn't saying much. Having said that, and after now knowing what this Hills show is about and that these two humans somehow escaped the tool shed and made their way into the psyche of people everywhere, I feel like my other blog blog - yes, blog blog - about professional wrestling should be taken down along with an apology from the dumb writer, me. When I watched a clip from The Hills, I actually felt like someone was pinning me down and pouring muck and filth all over my steroid filled body building shell. I seriously had the feeling that I deserved a good ass kicking, just for even giving it 2 minutes of my not-very-valuable time.

Am I the only one who feels this way? 

We are getting dumber, lazier and more patheticer.

Off I go...into the snow...Brandon Lee died filming The Crow...the tomboy chick on Facts of Life was Jo.

Love always,

Tyler Britain Kirk I

PS: IT'S CASSEROLE SEASON!!!!

Last Days In Office

OPEN on the interior of the Oval Office. Snow falls gently outside the window and Fraggle Rock plays on the plasma TV. It is the final weeks of the Bush Administration. George Bush is sprawled out on the Presidential seal, playing with his new train set. Barney, the White House dog, is in the corner chewing on a pile of official documents. Condi Rice sits on the sofa and Dick Cheney sits at the President's desk. A bottle of Cognac sits in front of him. A cigar burns in the ashtray.

Condi: Mr. President? Sir. Can you tell me where you put that box of Silver Stars? Sir?

W: (distracted) Huh? Hold on, hold on. Watch this.

He places an action figure on the train track and runs it over with the train.

W: Hell yea! See, that's what I'm takin' bout! 

Condi: Very nice sir. Can you tell where they are? You have to hand them out tomorrow after your speech at the Boston College commencement. 

W: Your mom goes to college!

Chaney: Good one.

Condi: Please, sir.

W: Condi. Oh Condi, Condi, Condi. Do you listen to Blondie? That'd be awesome, then I could say Condi loves Blondie! Hell yea! What was the question?

Condi: The Silver Stars sir. 

W: Like throwing stars? Did you ever see American Ninja?

Condi: I'll find them myself. 

W: Thadda Condi. (whsipers) Hey....watch this.

He motions over to Cheney, who is looking out the window at the snow and counting a wad of cash. W removes a pack of Black Cats from his fanny pack, lights them and throws them at Cheney.

SFX: BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!

Cheney jumps up.

W: Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Look at you, you pussy!!!! Ahhhhh, that's aswesome! (his tone turns to a mocking voice) Oh.....did you have a heart attack? Poor little Dickey.

Cheney: That's pretty funny. 

Cheney slams the Cognac.

Condi: Sir. (points to the phone) This red light has been blinking for 3 years. Your voice mailbox is full. Will you please check it? 

W: What for?

Condi: Important issues...you're still the President, sir.

W: Not my problem.

Condi: Sir, if I may, you still have several items on your desk to be signed.

W: YO mama!

Cheney is now passed out. Barney is chewing on his shoe.

Condi: I think the people deserve better, sir.

W: Listen. You hear that????? Listen. You hear it? It is saying, 'that ain't my problem....ain't my problem no mo!'

Condi: Very well, sir.

W: You want to arm wrestle?

Condi: No sir. I need to  go..

W: Very well. (slaps her on the ass) If anyone calls, I'm not here. Where is that Chinese finger cuff game?

Cheney: Lets go throw snowballs.

W: Grab the sled!

THE END

Cheney: 

Gifts That Suck

Happy Holidays folks! 

Nobody likes the feeling that comes when you open a present that completely sucks and everyone is looking at you. So, here are nine tactics designed to soften the blow and divert attention when you you open a present that you hate this holiday season.

1) Drop your pants and show everyone the rash.

2) Single out one specific thing on the crappy gift and just talk. Example: "Look at those pleats. Wow. I mean, just look at those pleats. Crisp, clean lines. And three per leg. Wow. Wow. Those really are nice pleats. Look everyone, pleats."

3) Immediately relapse from 8-years off the meth and return to compulsive hair-pulling.

4) Distract attention from the current shitty present by taking the other gift you got that sucks, proceed to light it on fire and throw it at the curtains.

5) Bring up the time you caught mom and dad humping in the wood-paneled station wagon on the Disney World trip.

6) Pout about your lazy eye.

7) Go to your happy place in your mind: Pancho's Mexican Buffet...raise the flag for more flautas, muster a smile and utter the phrase, "I need a braided belt. Thank you." - Then head for the kitchen and mainline Jack Daniels.

8) Select an appropriate bodily function and lose complete control of it.

9) Kick the dog.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND MERRY CUTTING!

Tyler

Wrestling

Dear World -

I hope you are all doing well. Things are good here...it's been a busy month or so since the last blog thing, but this unbelievable hectic pace that I have been keeping has afforded me few luxuries to play on my blog blog. That is a lie. Lots of down time with one hand in a bag of Doritos and the other in my pants.

Now, there is something that has been on my mind that apparently nobody wants to talk about, but I believe can no longer be ignored: Professional Wrestling. Please bare with me and give me a maximum of 3 minutes of your time. Two minutes worth of reading, which may be a stretch considering the literacy rate of the type of folk this blog blog is aimed at, and 1 more minute to let your blood boil to a respectable level. In addition, please shut down the meth lab while reading. And please no cutting at this time.

Professional wrestling. What is going on people? I happened to stumble upon a WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) commercial yesterday touting some kind of a Pay-Per-View match coming up this month. I can't remember the exact title, but it definitely had the words "extreme" and "hell" somewhere in the title. Essentially the commercial featured a nice chap who goes by the name of  "Triple H" standing in the middle of a smoke-filled room wearing some kind of leather gladiator outfit, shirtless and showing off his natural physique, violently spewing some sort of colored mist into the air and doing an inappropriate amount of flexing. He appeared really angry as well...perhaps a side effect of the protein shake. 

I just don't get it. Not only do I not understand what is so appealing about a bunch of sweaty, swelled-up ticks pretending to fight...kind of like the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets pretending to be in an army, more on that another time...but that people actually pay good money to watch it on Pay-Per-View. Am I missing something? Trust me, it's quite possible that I am. I'm not as in tune with things as I once was, and am still waiting for the 4th season of The Anna Nicole Show to come back, not sure what is taking so long. Negotiations, I presume. At any rate, I just don't get it. Are we getting more stupider? Was there something to Mike Judge's masterpiece "Idiocracy"? I'm not kidding. It is happening folks...look no further than this one word: WRESTLING. I have heard wresting referred to as the modern day opera. That statement is even more stupider than wrestling itself.

I'm sorry if I offended anyone. In other news, it's casserole season!

Choose to have a great day!!!! 

Ty