Saturday, September 28, 2013

I Applaud Walmart

For their concern for the well-being of their handicapped customers....

But I gotta think this isn't terribly convenient.

At least there's a cut-out so wheelchairs can cut in front of traffic.
That's gotta count for something, I guess.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Captain Caption XIII

"These mirror sunglasses left over from the 70s are sweet!
We can stare at the infidels on topless beaches
without them even knowing it!
Then we can blow their heads off."

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Legend of the Fall

Spring ahead, fall back.
Or is that feed a cold, starve a fever?
    Today, at precisely 4:44 PM Eastern Daylight Time (or 1644 for those of you who observe the 24 hour time system.  And have big-ass clocks), we will undergo the Autumnal Equinox.  This means we will have an equal amount of daylight and dark (or some other such Druid stuff like that).  

    If we don't, President Obama has authorized cruise missile strikes on the sun.

    From this afternoon on, the Earth will continue an inexorable tilt which will eventually fling polar bears off the planet and cause the daylight hours to grow short.  
"Okay, guys, it's starting to get cold.
Let me get this can figure out how to move these frikkin' boulders,
but none of you dumb bastards thought to put in walls?"
    This will continue until the Winter Solstice (more Druid stuff) sometime around December 21st or so (NOTE:  Too lazy to Google exactly when.  Incidentally, how frikkin' lazy is that?).  This will be the shortest day of the year.  Which still doesn't get you off the hook for Christmas shopping, partner.  So, get off your dead ass.  

    Unless you're Jewish.  Then, you've got eight crazy nights to go buy something.  Or you celebrate Kwanzaa.  In which case you...oh, crap, I don't really know anything about Kwanzaa except it has to do with oranges, bundles of sticks, or something.
Oh, yeah, and candles, too.
But, I thought Hannukah had the monopoly on that?
    From then on, the days will grow longer until the Vernal Equinox in...March?...then the Summer Solstice in June which is marked by the longest amount of daylight.  And the return of fat guys wearing Speedos at the Jersey Shore.
There are advantages to it
being too cold to go to the beach.
    But, let's don't get ahead of ourselves.  We've got a lot of snow and ice to get through (except you showoffs down under) before the return of warm days.

    Anyway, my point is how do they know???   

Seriously, do they have some guy with a stopwatch counting down how many seconds are left before the equinox?  Actually, I had that job a couple of years ago, but it didn't turn out so well...

"Hey, Al!  We're going to Dunkin' Donuts.  You want anything?"
"Yeah, pick me up a chocolate frosted and a large coff...oh...CRAP!

4:43 PM
Summertime and the weather's fine.

4:44 PM
Next thing you know, you're raking leaves.
And working for Walmart.

Meanwhile, the weather down under is starting to turn out very nice....

"Up yours, mate.
And don't forget to put on your mittens."


Friday, September 20, 2013

It's a Language Thing

Why flower shops in England just lead to confusion

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Captain Caption XII

"Oh, for the love of Allah....that's it!

Monday, September 16, 2013

I Got Wood

What'd you think I meant?

Did someone say 'wood'?

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Hey, It Won't Be So Bad

"Let me be absolutely clear.  Any attack on the thug Assad will be so unbelievably small that you'll barely know it's happening.  Unless, of course, a cruise missile flies into your living room while watching 'Syrian Idol.'  We anticipate that it won't amount to much more than wedgies, Indian Burns, or titty-twisters.  Essentially, it will be little more than a pin prick." 

Did someone say 'prick'?"

Friday, September 13, 2013

Captain Caption XIX

"And I promise you, citizens of the great state with two of the Top
Ten Unfriendliest Cities in the World....
I SHALL NOT REST until Camden joins Atlantic City and Newark!  And there's a Dunkin' Donuts
 on every street corner in the Garden State!  So help me G...hey, you gonna eat that?"

Note to my friends"across the pond" (by the way, I'm not real fond of that expression):  This is Chris Christie, governor of New Jersey and noted fat man.  He's been known to have a donut or two.  
Also, Newark and Atlantic City were recently voted part of the Unfriendliest Cities in the World (#1 and #7, respectively).  Hope this helps.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Forever Changed

September 12th, 2001
Naval Air Station Keflavik, Iceland

Back to normal tomorrow.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013


    I realize that the following is a re-post (so, if you've read it already, my apologies), but I firmly believe that it's important to remember, despite what that moronic turd, Bob Beckel, has to say.


    It was just before one o’clock in the afternoon on September 11th (a sad commentary: we don’t even need to identify the year anymore) when my maintenance supervisor stuck his head into my room to wake me.

    “Sir, someone just flew a plane into the World Trade Center.”

    Minutes later, I watched, horrified, as a second plane struck the South tower.  And then, as both of the monstrously huge structures tumbled to the ground as if kicked by a petulant child.

    My unit and I were participating in a multi-nation exercise at the Naval Air Station in Keflavik, Iceland (this explains why it was the afternoon).  A round-the-clock operation, the Keflavik Tactical Exchange gave us a unique chance to evaluate each other’s capabilities should we ever needed to flex our respective militaries.  Little did we know that we were preparing for a type of war which belonged to the past.

    Because the 21st Century came roaring into each of our lives on that late summer day.

    Naturally, the exercise was immediately cancelled.  Foreign aircrews (funny that I call them “foreign’” since we were actually foreigners, too) beat hasty returns to their home bases.  We were told that American airspace was closed for an indefinite time.

    Station security forces went into their highest readiness posture.  Watch teams at the main gate beefed up, rings of barbed wire cordoned off perceived sensitive areas, and armed patrols roamed the perimeter.

    My watch teams and I, on the other hand, remained at our billeting.  Only in Iceland for the exercise, we were considered non-essential personnel who’d only get in the way.

    And so we spent the next few days.

    I received a worried phone call from my wife during this time.  She fretted over my safety.  I assured her that I was fine, but omitted the fact that I was more concerned for her and the kids.

    You see, my family lives only a couple hours from New York and only a few from Washington.

    The ensuing few days was a frantic search for whatever updates we could glean from the news and how in the world we’d get ourselves and thousands of pounds of equipment back home.

    Most importantly, we desperately wanted to know how we could get into the fight.  Whatever the fight was.

    Four days later, U.S. airspace was opened to military traffic.  As I glanced through the window of the Navy patrol plane which took us home, I was struck at how empty the sky was-with the exception of the one plane which approached us as we crossed into the United States.  It came no closer than a few miles before it disappeared.

    I think it was a fighter aircraft.

    What’s more, the radio circuits, normally full of the cacophony of countless air traffic controllers, were eerily silent.  The only ones “on the air” were the handful which guided us home.  All else were hushed into silence.

    Our route of flight took us just south of Manhattan, well out of sight of land.  At that distance, even at the altitude at which we were flying, it was impossible to see any of the city skyline.

    But, we did see a huge pall of gray-brown smoke lingering in the air like the death shroud that it was.

    As we touched ground at the air station we called home, there was nobody to greet us.  There was really not much of anything by way of an acknowledgment that we were back.  Somehow, it seemed fitting.

    After all, we all had something much more important to do.

    Go home to our families.

In memory of my friends:
Commander Bill Donovan, USN
AW2 (NAC/AW) Joseph Pycior, USN
and the thousands whose only crime was going to work that day. 

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Sunset-September 10, 2001

In a little over twelve hours, nothing will ever be the same again...

Monday, September 9, 2013

Leaf Blower

Leif got all excited when his girlfriend, Frida, told him she was going to get him something special for autumn.

Wrong kinda leaf, though.

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Then and Now

   The recent hysteria over Miley Cyrus' gyrations on the MTV Music Awards grabbed the attention of the media and prompted outrage from millions of Facebook users who are convinced that what they write actually makes a difference.  Charges of "slut," "ho," and "creepy ass cracker" were flung about as quickly as Rosie O'Donnell shoves cheeseburgers in her mouth.  

    I would have attached the video, but it's kind of gross.  But, I'm sure you can find if you look on You Tube.  

   Or you can just Google "skank."

I couldn't get a picture of a pig sticking her tongue out,
so this will have to do.

NOTE:  All of this frenzied concern over important news was taking place as the President of the United States deliberated whether to lob a couple of cruise missiles into Syria to kill Syrians who killed other Syrians.  Which, as of this writing, hasn't happened yet.  By the time you read this, Damascus may in fact have been leveled.  And World War III may have started.  Which would kinda make Penwasser Place irrelevant.

  Anyway, I went looking to see just how far some of the stars of today have fallen in the face of fame and fortune.  I wasn't really surprised.



Amanda Bynes



Lindsay Lohan



How could I forget.....
Miley Cyrus


And so you don't think I'm just picking on the girls......

Macaulay Culkin



Gary Coleman



And, yes, I realize that was in very poor taste, but how do ya like this...?


Michael Jackson
NOW...well, THEN...but closer to NOW than THEN


And, as if it couldn't get any worse...

Al Penwasser

Cooler don't look so bad now, huh?

Keep your fingers crossed with that whole Syria thing,  okay?

And, while you're at it,  hug your kids and pray they don't end up like any of the above.

Especially that Penwasser guy.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Captain Caption VIII

"Well, thank Allah my mom's recipe book made it okay.
  Oh, here's my favorite, Shish Kabobs!
    'Alternate cube-size pieces of lamb or beef with equal
 chunks of vegetables on pre-soaked skewers.  Brush lightly
 with a vinaigrette
 or some other Italian dressing based sauce.
 Place gently on a barbecue grill
 set to medium heat.  Ensure each skewer is rotated and monitored closely as they easily char'
This is kinda ironic, huh?"   

Monday, September 2, 2013

Those Who Go Down to the Sea in Ships-The Conclusion

I know what you're thinking...WHEW!

In today's episode, we learn why we hadn't thrown our garbage overboard for the past three days...... 


17 JUN
Latitude 00˚ 00’ N
Longitude 039˚ 00’ W

This is actually the kind of stuff we mostly do.
You can relax.
          No way it could have gotten worse.

    “Time to visit Davy Jones Cooler, filthy
Davy Jones Cooler.
I figured, how bad could it be?

    Hoisted to my feet, I watched as the lid of the cooler was flipped open to reveal the contents of the box.  In addition to three other wretched pollywogs was some of the trash which hadn’t been tossed overboard.

Wrong Davy Jones.
If nothing else?
He's dead.
Oops, too soon?
    Apparently, they save garbage for things like this.

    I was rudely flipped up and over into the box.  The lid was slammed down over my head, casting us into a humid, fetid darkness.  The smell which wafted its way around my head and into my lungs made me nostalgic for belly-diving with the Royal Baby.

Actual Davy Jones.
"Man, those people are really effed up looking.
White people are whack."
   As my hand sank into a pile of fish and a mushy clump of something, I heard a gurgle from one of my companions.  In the faint light, I saw him clutch his stomach and abruptly bend over.  A splash followed a liquid cough.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and whimpered, “Sorry about that, man.”
"Well, it wasn't all garbage,
ya know."

    “No problem.  You can’t possibly have made things worse,” I said as the remains of Saturday night’s chicken a la king clawed under my fingernails and Friday’s beef yakisoba slipped into my socks.

    “If anything, you improved them.”

    The lid flew open and we were ordered out.

    Golly, the minute we’d spent in the cooler only seemed like an hour!  Just when the heady bouquet of vomit was beginning to intermingle with the chipped beef, too!

    Another shellback (Jesus, how many did this ship have?) smacked my behind with his firehose (enough with the frikkin’ shillelaghs, already!) and pointed at three rows of garbage bags strung together and held in place by duct tape.

    NOTE:  Is there anything duct tape can’t do?

"Let's see...where did I leave those tubes...?
  Oh, no matter, I'm like Davy Jones.
I'm dead, too."
    “You will now crawl through Captain Nemo’s escape tubes!”

    Great, he said escape!  Maybe we were almost done here.  I had had just about enough Navy tradition, thank you.  Scraping eggs and cigarette butts off officers’ plates was beginning to look real good just about now.

    Energized by the thought I may be done, I dove into one of the garbage bag “escape tubes.”  Right into even more garbage!  Geez, how many days did they save this stuff?

Garbage-filled sack for one?"
    I pressed my lips together in a vise as I tried to keep someone’s partially digested lunch from forcing its way in.  As I crawled on my hands and knees, I felt sodden pieces of old vegetables and rotted lettuce heads grind into my dungarees.  Oh, look!  Someone else couldn’t keep their stomach contents where it belongs!

    I finally reached the blessed end.  Like a bear emerging from his den at the landfill, I poked my head out into fresh air.

    A shellback (who else?) greeted me.

    “What are you!?”

    Fantastic.  A quiz.

    “A...a pollywog?”

    Smack in the ass.

    “Wrong, go again!”

    Cursing myself for giving the wrong answer, I lurched back to the front.  As I reached it, I brusquely shoved aside my green-around-the-gills cooler companion.  No way did I want him and his tender digestive system ahead of me in that thing.

"You're not going back to work
until I get all the vomit off you!"
    Seconds (seemed like hours) later, I popped out of the cute, this time with a leaf of cabbage round around my head like a hobo’s hat.

    This time, I didn’t give my tormentor a chance to ask.

    “I am a Shellback!”

    A nasty, smelly, greasy shellback with eggshell drying in his crack.

    Who probably should have thought twice about leaving his clothes in his locker until he returned to Norfolk in five weeks.
"Seriously?  You crazy bastards can keep that!  
And to think we wanted gays in the military!
In the Navy, my ass!
Oh, I get it...hee...hee...hee."


Hope the rest of your Labor Day weekend is peaceful and vomit-free.
And that nobody is smacking you in the ass with a firehose.

For those of you who aren't Americans, hope your Monday is going well.

That vomit and firehose stuff applies to you, as well.