<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606</id><updated>2011-07-28T07:09:08.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'>People Say Stupid Things (Soon to be "Nullum Cerebellum Bumboli")</title><subtitle type='html'>Translation: "No More Brain Farts!"
--Where Common Sense meets a black hole.
Founded by P.A.T.S., (People Advocating the Termination of Stupidity) presenters of the pseudo-regular "STUPIES" awards.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>500</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-5248335870405061824</id><published>2007-05-24T19:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T19:37:01.065-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in PA and time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I was in the small town of Duryea, PA today, preparing to make a delivery to a mom-and-pop store. As I was about to enter the market, a man in a beat-up pick-up truck with out-of-state tags came rolling up. The driver, who looked like an overweight member of ZZ Top, called to me, "Hey buddy!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I guardedly stopped and asked, "Yesss?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;"Is there a high school around here?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;My first thought: "&lt;em&gt;PERVERT!&lt;/em&gt;" But, wanting to be at least civil, I responded, "No, not here. Which high school are you looking for?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;"One here in Duryea," the man quipped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I shook my head, "Sorry, not here. The school district for this town is Pittston Area. The high school is in Yatesville."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Puzzled, the man shrugged, "Boy, am &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;lost. ...So, is there &lt;strong&gt;any &lt;/strong&gt;high school right near here?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Now I was getting a bit concerned. Hesitantly, I offered, "The closest is Old Forge, about 2 1/2 miles right up this road."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;He muttered, "I wanted to find &lt;strong&gt;Duryea &lt;/strong&gt;High School... So, no high school in Duryea, huh?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;"No," I reinforced. "The old Duryea High School was closed more than a dozen years ago when school districts consolidated."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Unwavering, he inquired, "Well, how would I get to it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I gave him directions, to which he stammered, "So, it's been closed a long time, huh?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;"Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;"... Boy, am I lost. What do I do now?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Get into your DeLorean, call "Doc" for help and set your coordinates for the past!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;NEXT UP: The 5th edition of the STUPIES, followed by the official unveiling of the newly renovated "Nullum Cerebellum Bomboli!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-5248335870405061824?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/5248335870405061824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=5248335870405061824&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5248335870405061824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5248335870405061824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/lost-in-pa-and-time.html' title='Lost in PA and time'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-7724003172222368661</id><published>2007-05-24T18:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T19:13:06.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's hard to find ANY help these days.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;As you readers may already know, we live in public housing. The place is decent, the neighbors are nice, and it's home. But maintenance is, well, practically non-existent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Our neighbors have had troubles with their bathroom since January. The fixtures all needed to be replaced, and the plumbing is shot. Those poor folks have put up with a half-functioning relief facility for 5 months now. I can understand and appreciate their frustrations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Today, "Tony" from maintenance decided to sit on his duff while doing something, so he got on the riding lawn mower to cut the grass that was just trimmed 6 days ago. Mr. Neighbor walked out of his house to vent on Tony a bit. As Tony turned off the mower, my wife could hear the following exchange:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Mr. N: Look, we've been waiting and waiting for this&lt;strong&gt;.  When &lt;/strong&gt;are you going to come back and finish this job? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Tony: Well, we can't do anything until we get a work order for it, so just keep calling the office.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Mr. N: We've &lt;strong&gt;been &lt;/strong&gt;calling &lt;em&gt;every day. &lt;/em&gt;For weeks now! How many more times do we need to call before you come back to fix (the bathroom)? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Tony: Um... Well... I don't know what to tell you. Just keep calling. We have to get a work order first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Mr. N: But I'm telling you &lt;strong&gt;now. &lt;/strong&gt;Can't you talk to somebody about it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Tony: Um... Sorry... I don't know what to tell you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Apparently, you're not getting a work order because you spend all day on your little tractor, instead of processing and prioritizing repair requests!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Looks like Tony's already taking his Memorial Day vacation...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;One more post before the next edition of the STUPIES!!! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-7724003172222368661?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/7724003172222368661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=7724003172222368661&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7724003172222368661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7724003172222368661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/its-hard-to-find-any-help-these-days.html' title='It&apos;s hard to find ANY help these days.'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-4590949781077884283</id><published>2007-05-22T19:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T19:30:04.761-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Windy wisdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Say WHAT? &lt;strong&gt;WHAT???&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Somebody please try and explain to me what this woman is saying, because I heard it on the news, read it on the internet, and it &lt;em&gt;still &lt;/em&gt;makes absolutely no sense to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;WNEP-16 is running a story on a local power company pursuing an interest into placing a wind farm in a rural area community.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An energy company is considering putting up windmills in Wyoming County.&lt;br /&gt;A meeting is scheduled for Tuesday night about it and a lot of people have a lot of questions.&lt;br /&gt;BP Alternative Energy is considering putting a wind farm in the Noxen area.&lt;br /&gt;"Windmills are the future otherwise we're going to drain our earth," said Cathie Pauley of Noxen but she doesn't know if she wants a wind farm there.&lt;br /&gt;But there are still many questions.&lt;br /&gt;"How are they getting the powers from here to where they're shipping it?  We're not getting it.  Are they putting it in boxes and shipping it UPS or are they building towers going down our mountains?" Pauley asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Educate me. Prove to me this is going to be a good idea, you've got me.  Prove to me that you're going to damage our environment, our view the only thing you have and intrude on people's property, you've got an enemy," Pauley added with a laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;OK, what do you want? To hear how it's a good idea, or how it will (not &lt;em&gt;may&lt;/em&gt;) damage the environment? Yes, please educate me, enemy! At least ship me some energy in a box via UPS, or build me a tower down my mountain so I can &lt;em&gt;get&lt;/em&gt; some energy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;How this is written is EXACTLY how she spoke it. No voice inflection, no pauses, no emphasis... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Methinks maybe BP Energy ought to harvest your head, because it appears to be an awful lot of breeze in your brain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-4590949781077884283?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/4590949781077884283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=4590949781077884283&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4590949781077884283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4590949781077884283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/windy-wisdom.html' title='Windy wisdom'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-638884794233704013</id><published>2007-05-21T18:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T19:12:11.727-04:00</updated><title type='text'>NUTS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;If you're just a common Joe, the title to this post means nothing to you. However, if you're a fan of the hit (and now cancelled) TV show "Jericho," you know EXACTLY what this means.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;The cancellation of "Jericho" just goes to prove why CBS has not been a top-rate network for years. (That, and putting up with Dan Rather's shenanigans for years.) While the show wasn't the best-written drama on TV, the quality of the acting was excellent, and it was refreshingly original. It received great Nielsen ratings in the fall, until it was murdered by scheduling choices made by network execs. (Hopefully, soon exes.) In fact, courtesy NJ.com:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viewers simply won't watch reruns of heavily-serialized shows anymore, and when networks just take them off the air for weeks -- or, in the case of "Jericho," three months -- at a stretch to avoid repeats, the audience often forgets to come back.&lt;br /&gt;Network suits spent a lot of Upfront Week talking about how they need to do a better job about this in the future. The head of CBS, (Nina Tassler) admitting that &lt;strong&gt;she and her colleagues ruined "Jericho" with the scheduling&lt;/strong&gt;, planned to hold back her most serialized show, "Swingtown," until mid season...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Translation: "Oops. We made a huge boo-boo. We hadn't the slightest clue how to promote and schedule a show, so we took our top-rated rookie show and flushed it down the toilet like yesterday's goldfish. ...I think we need a plunger."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;So YOU killed this drama, along with your ENTIRE line-up of the 2006-7 season, and you stand by your decision? Obviously, you do, because you've hung up on fans making phone calls, returned unread e-mails, and refused delivery of letters from those who want to express their wish that an hour of entertainment is returned to them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;What a great way to run a multi-billion dollar organization.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-638884794233704013?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/638884794233704013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=638884794233704013&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/638884794233704013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/638884794233704013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/nuts.html' title='NUTS!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-5540565368998050839</id><published>2007-05-19T17:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T17:24:30.824-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Travel for the gifted</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;The following is an example of the type of posts you may regularly see on "Nullum Cerebellum Bumboli."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Today, while driving home from shopping, my wife and I observed a couple people on a property being developed for a new church building, standing next to a custom touring bus, much like a Greyhound. The bus had been bought by the church a number of years ago, and apparently, this pair was attempting to move it. The problem was, they couldn't get into it, as they were both PUSHING on the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;A bus door ALWAYS opens outward; therefore, one must PULL in order to gain entrance...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"How many parishioners does it take to get into a bus?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The site transformation takes place in 4 more posts, following the most current presentation of the STUPIES! Stay tuned and enjoy!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-5540565368998050839?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/5540565368998050839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=5540565368998050839&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5540565368998050839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5540565368998050839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/travel-for-gifted.html' title='Travel for the gifted'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-7056293704676076503</id><published>2007-05-17T19:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T19:31:38.145-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd Today: English as a Partial Language</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Tuesday, I was completing a delivery on my route. The product was received, the invoice was signed... I was getting ready to jump back into my truck which was parked alongside the road, when a huge semi heading the other way slowed way down. The driver, of... foreign descent, rolled down his window and waved to me. "Delivery?" he uttered in broken English.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Not sure if I had heard him correctly, I asked, "I'm sorry, what?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"Delivery?" he repeated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"Delivery for whom?" I stammered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Again, with a small gesture, and more emphatically, he quizzed, "&lt;em&gt;Delivery&lt;/em&gt;?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;OK, so he knows the word "Delivery." Great. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I was at a complete loss. "Who are you looking for?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Frustrated, he dismissed me with a huff and a slight wave of the hand, and drove away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I'm guessing that somebody didn't get their &lt;strong&gt;delivery&lt;/strong&gt; that day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-7056293704676076503?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/7056293704676076503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=7056293704676076503&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7056293704676076503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7056293704676076503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/2nd-today-english-as-partial-language.html' title='2nd Today: English as a Partial Language'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-1447257320200337191</id><published>2007-05-17T19:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T19:18:57.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Portable pool?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Sometimes, you see something that in and of itself isn't odd or funny, but then it's in the wrong place...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Today, I saw a sign that read:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;DANGER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shallow water, no diving.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Diving can cause serious injury or death.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;OK, fine. Makes sense. However, the location of said sign was strange--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;...On the back door of a Ford cargo van.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;On the road again... I just can't wait to swim on the road again...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-1447257320200337191?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/1447257320200337191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=1447257320200337191&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1447257320200337191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1447257320200337191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/portable-pool.html' title='Portable pool?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-841574796408774635</id><published>2007-05-13T10:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T11:03:27.488-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Football in mouth disease</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Whenever sports takes precedence over things that really matter, the end result is always stupidity. Check out the latest from the AP as the presidential race heats up...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Brownback Feels the Heat After Dissing Favre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By SCOTT BAUER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AP&lt;br /&gt;LAKE GENEVA, Wis. (May 12) - Note to Sen. Sam Brownback: In Packerland, it's not cool to diss Brett Favre. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a class="ra_cword" href="javascript:;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;GOP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;  presidential hopeful drew boos and groans Friday at the Wisconsin &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a class="ra_cword" href="javascript:;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Republican&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;  Party convention when he used a football analogy to talk about the need to focus on families. "This is fundamental blocking and tackling," he said. "This is your line in football. If you don't have a line, how many passes can (Indianapolis Colts QB) Peyton Manning complete? Greatest quarterback, maybe, in NFL history." Oops, wrong team to mention in Wisconsin...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realizing what he had said, the Kansas Republican slumped at the podium and put his head in his hands. "That's really bad," he said. "That will go down in history. I apologize."&lt;br /&gt;His apology brought a smattering of applause and laughter. He tried to recover, saying former Packer Bart Starr may be the greatest of all time, but the crowd was still restless. "Let's take Favre then," Brownback said. "The Packers are great. I'm sorry. How many passes does he complete without a line?" "All of them!" more than one person yelled from the back. "I'm not sure how I recover from this," Brownback said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;No, I don't necessarily count Sen. Brownback's comments as a verbal boo-boo. The stupidity recognition goes to the AP, who have successfully editorialized the speech, making Brownback look like an idiot, and misconstruing his point of view. Besides, sorry, fans, Favre is NOT the greatest QB ever. But I digress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Look, it's no big deal! People use analogies all the time, and the reason is to illustrate an important concept. The focal point is NOT the imagery itself. While I'm not necessarily a Brownback supporter, I agree with his position on the nuclear family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Oh, God, I said "&lt;em&gt;nuclear&lt;/em&gt;." I guess the press can accurately portray me as an environmental enemy, a backer of Iran's ideologies and a Reagan reminiscer. This post will go down in history.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-841574796408774635?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/841574796408774635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=841574796408774635&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/841574796408774635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/841574796408774635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/football-in-mouth-disease.html' title='Football in mouth disease'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-6058507814442116793</id><published>2007-05-08T19:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T19:44:44.505-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Money'll buy you a lawyer, but not sympathy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Oh, boo-hoo-hooey. Paris is going to jail. One boozed cruise too many, it seems. While in general I don't give a rip about Ms. Hilton's life, I have to post her comments, as well as her lawyer's and mother's. After all, it's stupidity!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Paris Hilton Sentenced to 45 Days in Jail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Heiress Must Report to Prison on June 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By BY DAISY NGUYEN, AP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;LOS ANGELES (May 5) -- Paris Hilton worked as a farmer and maid on her TV show "The Simple Life." Now she's facing a real-life hardship in her latest role: jail inmate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hilton, who parlayed her name and relentless partying into worldwide notoriety, was sentenced Friday to 45 days in county jail for violating probation in an alcohol-related reckless driving case by driving with a suspended license. As an inmate, she might have to spend most of her day in a cell smaller than her closet - her only luxury escape a short period to shower, watch TV, exercise or talk on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm very sorry and &lt;strong&gt;from now on I'm going to pay complete attention to everything.&lt;/strong&gt; I'm sorry and I did not do it on purpose at all," Hilton, 26, told a judge before the sentencing.&lt;br /&gt;Her mother was visibly upset. "&lt;strong&gt;This is pathetic and disgusting, a waste of taxpayer money with all this nonsense. &lt;/strong&gt;This is a joke," Kathy Hilton said of the judge's decision.&lt;br /&gt;Defense attorney Howard Weitzman said he would appeal. "I'm shocked, &lt;strong&gt;I'm surprised and really disheartened in the system that I've worked in for close to 40 years,&lt;/strong&gt;" Weitzman said. He said the sentence was "&lt;strong&gt;uncalled for, inappropriate and bordered on the ludicrous&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;Hilton pleaded no contest in January to reckless driving stemming from a Sept. 7 arrest in Hollywood. Police said she appeared intoxicated and failed a field sobriety test. She had a blood-alcohol level of .08 percent, the level at which an adult driver is in violation of the law. She was sentenced to 36 months probation, alcohol education and $1,500 in fines. Two other traffic stops and failure to enroll in a mandated alcohol education program landed her back in court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Let the scoffing begin!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;"From now on, I'm going to pay complete attention to everything." Because apparently, nothing was worth paying attention to before. Like all the pedestrians and other motorists sharing the road as you're blasted out of your empty little skull.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;"...A waste of taxpayer money with all this nonsense," says dear old Mommy. Right. Because cleaning up disintegrated cars and mangled bodies is cheap for cities to do!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;"I'm surprised... in the system I've worked in close to 40 years." What kind of system are you used to, Howie? The rest of us observe the justice system.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;"(The sentence is) uncalled for..." Sure it is! After all, us regular Joe Shmoes should get put away when we drive drunk, but a little rich girl who dabbles in shameless porn and excess is privileged, therefore, she doesn't deserve to be held accountable!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FREAKIN' UNREAL&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-6058507814442116793?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/6058507814442116793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=6058507814442116793&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6058507814442116793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6058507814442116793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/moneyll-buy-you-lawyer-but-not-sympathy.html' title='Money&apos;ll buy you a lawyer, but not sympathy'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-607652328587596782</id><published>2007-05-07T19:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T19:35:49.457-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ADD chat rooms</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;My wife had found a wonderful event for our entire family to enjoy this last weekend. In a chat room she checks out regularly, someone informed readers of a Lenape (Native American) Pow-wow taking place in Allentown, PA, and attached a link to the site of the Museum of Indian Culture, on whose grounds the pow-wow was happening. The MoIC site even included directions and a map. No sooner had the guy posted the info, when a lady responded, "Sounds great! Where is this going to be?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I guess we didn't see &lt;em&gt;her &lt;/em&gt;this last weekend...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-607652328587596782?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/607652328587596782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=607652328587596782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/607652328587596782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/607652328587596782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/add-chat-rooms.html' title='ADD chat rooms'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-3966715072273627683</id><published>2007-05-03T18:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T18:12:32.352-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously. I'm NOT making this up.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Today, I was making a beverage delivery to the receiving department of a local Kmart. After the receiver checked me in, I went to take the product to the sales floor. Why I decided to look up toward the ceiling, I don't know; but am I glad I did! Posted near the rafters 10 feet above the door was the following professionally-done sign:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;For Your Own Protection&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;          PLEASE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;        No Sky Diving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;     In This Building.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;WTH??????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-3966715072273627683?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/3966715072273627683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=3966715072273627683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3966715072273627683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3966715072273627683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/05/seriously-im-not-making-this-up.html' title='Seriously. I&apos;m NOT making this up.'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-6215243246259129080</id><published>2007-04-28T15:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T15:44:08.852-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something to sleep on</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;My wife and I just recently purchased a new mattress/box spring set. Even the sleep industry has taken an intellectual snooze when printing up the warranty and mattress care guide!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Easy steps for rotating your turn-free mattress-- &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;if you want to...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Wait a minute. ROTATING a TURN-FREE mattress? Isn't this a bit of an oxymoron?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Rotation #1: First, rotate mattress counter-clockwise 1/2 turn. Then realign mattress with foundation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;...Because rotating clockwise won't help, right? Also, I guess rotating the mattress a full turn is pretty much useless...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Rotation #3: Rotate mattress again 1/2 turn counter-clockwise. Then realign mattress with foundation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;...What happened to rotation #2? And why couldn't you just say, "Repeat rotation #1 as needed"?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Duh! Looks like someone doped up on Lunesta when concocting this pamphlet!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-6215243246259129080?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/6215243246259129080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=6215243246259129080&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6215243246259129080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6215243246259129080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/something-to-sleep-on.html' title='Something to sleep on'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-8940215305569832571</id><published>2007-04-26T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T19:27:07.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd today: Mental Mishap Murders Marked Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;(Catchy title, huh? Think it's &lt;em&gt;New York Post &lt;/em&gt;worthy?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;More proof that thinking is a lost art, courtesy of the Scranton Times-Tribune.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Suspect: I didn’t think plot to kill would lead to death&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;BY MEGAN REITER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A local woman admitted to police that she never thought a plan concocted to kill her husband actually would lead to his death, according to testimony at a preliminary hearing Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;Patricia Luyster, 37, and her daughter, Clarissa, 17, are charged with criminal homicide and conspiracy to commit murder for the death of Ronald Luyster, 41, Mrs. Luyster’s husband and Clarissa’s father.&lt;br /&gt;Cody Steich, 18, is charged with shooting Mr. Luyster once in the chest on April 14... where Mrs. Luyster and Ms. Luyster live.&lt;br /&gt;Trooper Patrick Zirpoli, a criminal investigator, interrogated Mrs. Luyster. He read from her statement that she talked about killing her husband with Mr. Steich and her daughter for two weeks prior to his death. She knew Mr. Steich had a gun, “but didn’t think he’d do anything.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Well, huh-huh-hh, mmm, gwarsh golly-gee! Muh teeny weeny brain din't figger that one out! Gee. I wanted to kill him, but I didn't want him to actually die!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;A mind is a terrible thing to waste. And it must be stopped, before I kill someone. ...Else...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-8940215305569832571?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/8940215305569832571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=8940215305569832571&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8940215305569832571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8940215305569832571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/2nd-today-mental-mishap-murders-marked.html' title='2nd today: Mental Mishap Murders Marked Man'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-5201014817398461159</id><published>2007-04-26T18:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T19:06:22.875-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Look out, lucky singles!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Stop surfing those online dating services! Don't call that personal ad! Give up on the bar scene! The classiest of the class are right here in Northeast PA!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Our local arts and entertainment weekly has a regular feature called "Model/Man of the Week." While I'm not sure about the criterion to getting oneself chosen to such a role, it definitely is an eye-opener.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Accompanying a full-page photo is a very short bio and a series of questions answered by the wanton guy and gal. This week, &lt;em&gt;The Weekender &lt;/em&gt;asked Melissa Gibblets,  (makes me think of Thanksgiving dinner) age 30, "What does the opposite sex need to do to impress you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Answer: "They need to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with me... Or play guitar."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Translation: I'd like to date Stephen Hawking. Or "Fletch" from "The Space Gorillas." Whatever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Don't despair, ladies! We've got a catch for you, too! D.J. Giancola, 21, responds to the query, "What smell turns you on?" with "Old sweaty socks."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Great. A gym bum who never washes his clothes or bathes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Thank &lt;strong&gt;GOD &lt;/strong&gt;I'm married!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-5201014817398461159?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/5201014817398461159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=5201014817398461159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5201014817398461159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5201014817398461159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/look-out-lucky-singles.html' title='Look out, lucky singles!!!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-4839754214649848557</id><published>2007-04-20T19:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T20:10:22.791-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Education at its most unsanitary</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Talk about hands-on learning about health hazards!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Our local library's children's department features a lot of programs and events for our kids, which normally is great. However, the most recent E-mail notice they sent us really wrinkled my nose...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Worm Composting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Presented by the Penn State Cooperative Extension&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help build a worm composting bin!&lt;br /&gt; Bring in your &lt;strong&gt;food&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;scraps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;to feed to the worms!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Bin will remain in the lobby all week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; All ages&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday, May 1, 4:00pm&lt;br /&gt;Lackawanna County Children’s Library&lt;br /&gt;Free registration&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;What nit-wit thought &lt;em&gt;this &lt;/em&gt;was a great idea? Bring your garbage to a public institution? Why not just feed the worms in your home garden? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The thing I love the most about this... "Bin will remain in the lobby all week." Oh, yuck. So every time you go to the library that week, you have to listen to your kids whine, "Phew! What's that yucky smell???"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Hello, 4-1-1? Can I please have the number for the Department of Public Health?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-4839754214649848557?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/4839754214649848557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=4839754214649848557&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4839754214649848557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4839754214649848557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/education-at-its-most-unsanitary.html' title='Education at its most unsanitary'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-6439386243327135294</id><published>2007-04-17T17:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T17:24:15.771-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd today: Paula Abdubl-bl-bluh-bla!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I really do enjoy the popular show "American Idol," especially as a lyricist/musician, analyzing the talent. (Or, in Sanjaya's case, a lack thereof. But I digress.) However, the constant blathering by the judges sometimes gives me cerebral discomfort.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Last Tuesday, after contestant Jordin Sparks offered her musical contribution, Paula tried-- feebly-- to express her approval, amazement and appreciation. "You know, you-- wow, just look at you... You know, you're... you're just... YOU..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yep. Last time I checked!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;You're you. Therefore you are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-6439386243327135294?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/6439386243327135294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=6439386243327135294&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6439386243327135294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6439386243327135294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/2nd-today-paula-abdubl-bl-bluh-bla.html' title='2nd today: Paula Abdubl-bl-bluh-bla!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-1190504538001614604</id><published>2007-04-17T16:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T17:06:26.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We interrupt this normally stupid blog...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;To bring you a laugh courtesy of my family... It's not stupid, just cute!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Whenever I come home from a day of delivering beverages, I'm always greeted by my very enthusiastic children, including my youngest, 3-year-old "Nugget," as we nick-named him. (Don't ask.) After the initial audible burst of "DADDY!!!", I sat in my favorite chair with a highball while the kids went upstairs to play. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;A few minutes passed, and Nugget came bounding (literally) downstairs and saw me again, and called out, "Oh! Hi dere, Mommy!" (You know how kids can often be somewhat dyslexic.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I chuckled, "I'm Daddy!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Without missing a beat, he replied, "OK. I'm Nugget!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Did I just walk into an AA meeting? Or... Just how much brandy did I pour into this glass?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-1190504538001614604?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/1190504538001614604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=1190504538001614604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1190504538001614604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1190504538001614604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/we-interrupt-this-normally-stupid-blog.html' title='We interrupt this normally stupid blog...'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-445509991184152410</id><published>2007-04-16T14:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T15:07:56.465-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Take it or leave</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;More proof that when people have nothing else to talk about, they talk about the weather.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Northeastern PA is getting hit by a large Nor'easter. Considering what others are experiencing, we here in this neck of the woods are making out rather well. There's 3"+ of rain, 6" + of sloppy snow, and lots of wind. (At least it's not the Blizzard of '96!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;WNEP.com has once again fed the frenzy by going out, seeking comments from area citizens about what they think about the storm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's spring. We don't need it..."&lt;br /&gt;"It's crazy. It's nuts for April..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Howard O'Connor goes a bit too far with it, even though he's trying to put a positive spin on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Lord sent (the snow). We'll take it..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I'd hate to be around this guy if he lived in other climates/locales.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;SoCal: "The Lord sent the lightning that sparked a forest fire and burned down our entire housing community. We'll take it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Kansas: "The Lord sent that tornado through my trailer park. We'll take it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;San Fran: "The Lord sent the earthquake that caused 8 million people to fall into the Pacific. We'll take it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Oswego, NY: "The Lord sent 450" of snow. We'll take it. Never mind my roof."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Indonesia: "The Lord sent that 30' wall of water. We'll take it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Howard O'Connor, you are the ignorant recipient of another "Just shut up" STUPIE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;17 more posts, and this site will officially become "Nullum Cerebellum Bumboli," which will incorporate non-verbal expressions of stupidity! Stay tuned!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-445509991184152410?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/445509991184152410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=445509991184152410&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/445509991184152410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/445509991184152410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/take-it-or-leave.html' title='Take it or leave'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-8855262673082841324</id><published>2007-04-15T15:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T16:13:35.329-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Git-R-Done</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Today's post comes from the syndicated column "News Quirks," compiled by Roland Sweet from nation-wide press clippings... An asterisk (*)  indicates an interjected thought, which I will state at the conclusion of this idiom of idleness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ex-Employee of the Month&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After her employer told Emmalee Bauer, 25, to stop using company time to make entries in her personal, handwritten journal, she began recording the journal on her company computer. The &lt;em&gt;Des Moines Register &lt;/em&gt;reported that during the next several months, Bauer composed a book-length document of 300 single-spaced pages detailing her effort to avoid work, which, besides keeping the journal, included shopping online, playing games, and reading message boards. "This typing thing seems to be doing the trick," she wrote. "It just looks like I am hard at work on something very important." She also wrote, "I am only here for the money &lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;and, lately, for the printer access. &lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;A supervisor discovered the journal and fired Bauer for misuse of company time. Bauer disputed her firing, insisting that the journal helped her deal with anxiety and frustration &lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;. Administrative Law Judge Susan Ackerman denied her request for unemployment benefits, declaring that the journal demonstrated a refusal to work, as well as Bauer's "amusement at getting away with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;First thought: "I'm only here for the money.." Fine. You don't like your job? Go find a better one. After all, to keep this journal going, you need to buy pens, paper, an ISP, whatever...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;Next: "...Printer access"??? You couldn't be satisfied with keeping your literary laziness in a hard-drive file? Now your book-sized story of sloth is so much easier for your superiors to find!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;Finally, Anxiety about what? Getting caught? Putting food on the table? Paying bills? Actually finding satisfaction in your personal accomplishments?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;It's people like this that President Clinton had in mind when he developed welfare reform to eliminate abuses of the system... ...Which still continue today. (I hear the Oompa-loompa song in the background...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-8855262673082841324?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/8855262673082841324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=8855262673082841324&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8855262673082841324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8855262673082841324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/dont-git-r-done.html' title='Don&apos;t Git-R-Done'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-5441602140452773358</id><published>2007-04-14T19:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-14T19:25:55.285-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not for the dead, but the living</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;This evening, our family went to a local buffet-style restaurant. It was very crowded, and many families were eating after various church services. An older couple sat at the table directly behind my wife, and though we didn't intentionally eavesdrop, we could overhear their conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;The man was muttering about the service he and his family had just attended. "You know, that mass was OK, I guess... Well, I didn't care for the priest. It was pretty boring, actually. I mean, it didn't do anything for me. ...But the food afterwards was pretty good!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;His wife, out of a spirit of stunned disgust, replied, "Honey, it was a &lt;em&gt;funeral.&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I bet the service didn't do much for the deceased, either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-5441602140452773358?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/5441602140452773358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=5441602140452773358&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5441602140452773358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5441602140452773358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/not-for-dead-but-living.html' title='Not for the dead, but the living'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-2872403182434343604</id><published>2007-04-12T16:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T16:35:04.834-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Speaking Hollywood-ese 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Man, you hear enough of quotes like this, it's enough to give you a cerebral hemorrhage...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Celebrity guest Leeza Gibbons, appearing as one of the competitors to ABC's "Dancing With the Stars," had just been voted off on the results show this past Tuesday. Obviously, none of the stars &lt;em&gt;want &lt;/em&gt;to lose, and it's hard to to accentuate the positive at such a time as this, but, my word! Is this all you can up with???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Upon asking her if she was disappointed she was leaving, Leeza smiled and vacantly blathered, &lt;strong&gt;"Well, as long as you show up for your life, you're a winner."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...Huh???&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;What in the name of Suzanne Sommers is &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;supposed to mean?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;What a meathead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-2872403182434343604?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/2872403182434343604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=2872403182434343604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/2872403182434343604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/2872403182434343604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/speaking-hollywood-ese-101.html' title='Speaking Hollywood-ese 101'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-205837920960268773</id><published>2007-04-11T16:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T16:48:20.291-04:00</updated><title type='text'>God: "A little help up here?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;As a former ordained minister, it drives me absolutely insane when people try to convince others that God needs help, or that they themselves know better than the Almighty...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I recently came across an advert for a Christian curriculum company. Their slogan emblazoned on the top of the flier: &lt;strong&gt;"Preserving God's Word through Christian education!" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Is that so? I'm surprised to learn that if it weren't for Christian ed, The Bible wouldn't mean a darned thing. So, Landmark Freedom Curriculum, if you know the Bible so well, perhaps you could explain the following passage found in Isaiah 40:7 to me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;"The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the Word of our God stands forever."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Hmm. So, God &lt;em&gt;doesn't &lt;/em&gt;need my help?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-205837920960268773?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/205837920960268773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=205837920960268773&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/205837920960268773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/205837920960268773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/god-little-help-up-here.html' title='God: &quot;A little help up here?&quot;'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-8680645851651149607</id><published>2007-04-10T18:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T18:57:13.924-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Down in the, like, valley</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Where oh where do these news agencies find people like this to interview???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The following comes from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WNEP&lt;/span&gt;.com regarding a story on teaching area college students the importance of fire prevention and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;combating&lt;/span&gt; wildfires.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With low humidity and plenty of dry grass and leaves in the woods state forestry officials say the conditions are perfect for wild fires. Today college students learned how to handle and put out wild fires.&lt;br /&gt;On state game lands near &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Allenwood&lt;/span&gt;, forestry officials prepared some Penn College students for a hands-on lesson. They got up close and personal with fire, learning how to contain and control it.&lt;br /&gt;The controlled burns are carefully planned.  Students stand at the perimeter of the burn to make sure flames don't jump the lines.&lt;br /&gt;"You always have to worry about being safe because you don't know what the weather is going to do.  It switches with the wind, so you have to, like, pretty much pay attention at all times, where you're at, what's behind you, what's in front of you," said student Katie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Su&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;McCaslin&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Like, pretty much?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Like, pretty much you're suffering from second-degree burns, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;chickie&lt;/span&gt;-boo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-8680645851651149607?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/8680645851651149607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=8680645851651149607&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8680645851651149607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8680645851651149607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/04/down-in-like-valley.html' title='Down in the, like, valley'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-7721319296123713899</id><published>2007-03-31T19:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T19:29:42.684-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd today: Confusious without subtlety</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;After recently ingesting some Chinese take-out, I opened my fortune cookie to read, &lt;strong&gt;"You are about to become $8.95 poorer. ($6.95 if you had the buffet.)"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Imagine if Chinese fortune cookies came with every consumer service...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;GAS STATION: "You are about to give our CEO a new Lexus."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;POST OFFICE: "You'll never get a confirmation of this package being delivered, because it will be stuck under a conveyor belt in our Des Moines facility for the next 2 years."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;IRS: "You're screwed."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;TOLL ROADS: "Just wait til you see how many potholes are in our road &lt;em&gt;next &lt;/em&gt;time."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;INSURANCE COMPANY: "Get ready to choose a new family doctor next year, because we have no intention of paying your claim."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;CREDIT CARD: "You're such a valued customer, your interest rate just went up to 30.99% APR."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;CABLE COMPANY: "Tough luck. There's &lt;em&gt;STILL &lt;/em&gt;nothing worth watching."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;DOCTOR: "You have the sniffles? Ohh. Looks like we're gonna have to do a rectal exam."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Ooooh, what a feeling!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-7721319296123713899?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/7721319296123713899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=7721319296123713899&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7721319296123713899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7721319296123713899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/2nd-today-confusious-without-subtlety.html' title='2nd today: Confusious without subtlety'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-4192506323811112655</id><published>2007-03-31T19:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T19:08:53.151-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Always," huh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Webster's dictionary says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Always \&lt;/strong&gt;'ol-wez &lt;em&gt;adv &lt;strong&gt;1: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;at all times: INVARIABLY &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;2: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;FOREVER, PERPETUALLY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Having established that, I have a &lt;em&gt;real &lt;/em&gt;problem with Verizon's latest ad campaign, "It's on..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;The ad flashes on the TV, "Always on" as a man voices, "It's on... Even when the power goes out!" Then, at the end of the ad in teeny, tiny sub-type, or, on the radio, in the legal disclaimer, "Length of service may vary depending on the length of power outage."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Well, then, that's &lt;em&gt;NOT &lt;/em&gt;"always,"&lt;em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;IS IT!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-4192506323811112655?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/4192506323811112655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=4192506323811112655&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4192506323811112655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4192506323811112655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/always-huh.html' title='&quot;Always,&quot; huh?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-3616744022220682889</id><published>2007-03-24T14:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T14:26:35.298-04:00</updated><title type='text'>NOT your territory!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today's post is in regards to a gross error in judgment made by a spokesman from the Church of Jesus Christ/Latter-Day Saints. I am &lt;strong&gt;not &lt;/strong&gt;"slamming" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;any one's&lt;/span&gt; faith; this is just another example about how the Church in America, regardless of denomination, brazenly enters realms that do NOT belong to them. If you are likely to be offended by this post, do not read on. However, it is my hope to stimulate rational thinking, and that the reader should realize that I am not "poking fun" at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LDS&lt;/span&gt;; rather, I am only pointing out that people should always keep church in its place and business in theirs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Oh, come ON. You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CAN'T&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; be serious. Here's another case (from the AP) on... treading where angels fear to tread, pardon the pun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mormon church objects to angel T-shirt&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;TAYLORSVILLE&lt;/span&gt;, Utah - For a coffee shop, T-shirts of a Mormon angel with java flowing into his trumpet are selling well. But they don't have the blessing of religious leaders.&lt;br /&gt;The shirts have upset the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Not only is Moroni a revered figure — Mormons believe he appeared to church founder Joseph Smith — but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;LDS&lt;/span&gt; members are discouraged from drinking coffee.&lt;br /&gt;The shirts show the angel Moroni, a male figure in a robe blowing a trumpet. The trumpet is turned up at an angle as coffee is poured in.&lt;br /&gt;"They've been the best-selling T-shirts we've ever done," said Just Add Coffee co-owner Ed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Beazer&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The church informed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Beazer&lt;/span&gt; that the angel's image is a registered trademark.&lt;br /&gt;"If they provide proof, we're going to comply," &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Beazer&lt;/span&gt; said. "We don't want to break any laws or anything."&lt;br /&gt;Just Add Coffee put the image on greeting cards about a year ago and started selling the shirts before Christmas. Moroni also appeared in ads that caught the church's attention.&lt;br /&gt;Church spokesman Scott Trotter said the image is a trademark.&lt;br /&gt;"It was a spoof," &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Beazer&lt;/span&gt; said. "It was meant to be fun."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;OK. Here's the low-down on this. First, if you are a practising member of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;LDS&lt;/span&gt; church, you can't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ingest&lt;/span&gt; caffeine, anyway. So why should a coffee house's advertisement technique get your undies in a bunch? It would be like my getting all contorted out of shape anytime someone uses the phrase, "Dancing with the devil."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Second, and most seriously, Scott Trotter has the audacity to attempt to put a revenue-yielding trademark on an angelic being? Gee, Scott, did you get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Jesus's&lt;/span&gt; permission for that? I'm sure the powerful and ordained Moroni would just be thrilled to know that someone wants to use him for personal gain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Just more proof that the church (again, REGARDLESS of denomination) needs to keep their pious noses out of the business world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;CLOSING DISCLAIMER:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Remember, this post was not an attempt to poke fun at a faith-group, rather to simply point out an error. When I have attained perfection, I will no longer post the stupid things &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; do and say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-3616744022220682889?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/3616744022220682889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=3616744022220682889&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3616744022220682889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3616744022220682889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/not-your-territory.html' title='NOT your territory!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-6324053506634725243</id><published>2007-03-23T21:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T21:42:47.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Service with a shove out the door</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I met my brother last night in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Binghamton&lt;/span&gt;, NY (our old stomping grounds) at Cracker Barrel. Being that this was the first time we had seen each other in 3 years, we planned to enjoy our visit, with a nice dinner included. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;We were courteously seated, and given menus. &lt;em&gt;Immediately&lt;/em&gt;, the waitress asked, "Would you like something to drink, or do you know what you want?" After responding that we'd need a few minutes to look over the menu, the waitress left us alone. ...For all of 90 seconds. "Have you decided yet?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;This was our first indication that this particular eatery had adopted the "revolving door" theory to service. (In other words, get the people in, serve them promptly, get them out, get the next people in, etc...) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Because we are just that kind of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;people&lt;/span&gt;, bro and I decided to draw things out for as long as we possibly could. After all, the place was not very busy, and we had a lot of catching up to do! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;After receiving our orders, the waitress approached us about every 5 minutes. "...Everything OK here? Can I get you anything else? How are you doing?" Despite our assurances that the food was good, and so on, she seemed rather unsettled that two middle-aged, semi-long-haired men would just sit around a dinner table and just talk. After about a half-hour, the odd-looking manager came out (he kind of reminded me of a shopkeeper in the Andy Griffith Show) and inquired, "Is everything OK here? Is it to your satisfaction?" He looked like he would faint if we had the slightest negative thing to say... I felt like saying something totally off the wall, like, "Well, you know, these seats really aren't that comfortable. I think I have a wedgie."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;A scant 2 minutes later, our waitress returned. Again. "How is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;? Are you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;alright&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(&lt;em&gt;A confession, bro. I only ordered that apple pie just to annoy the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;bejeezus&lt;/span&gt; out of her. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Mmmm&lt;/span&gt;... SCRUMPTIOUS! Pie always tastes better with someone seething nearby!&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;My critique: cleanliness, 4.5 stars. Food, 3.5 stars. Customer Service Index: looks like somebody owes me a constellation of stars!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-6324053506634725243?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/6324053506634725243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=6324053506634725243&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6324053506634725243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/6324053506634725243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/service-with-shove-out-door.html' title='Service with a shove out the door'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-3262025028778175340</id><published>2007-03-21T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T19:26:51.857-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And now, something for the kiddies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Recently, police in the small borough of Plymouth, PA made a drug bust and arrested a man for possession and intent to deliver. The man claimed the stuff was for him only, for medicinal purposes. Police seized 199, yes, &lt;strong&gt;199 &lt;/strong&gt;marijuana plants, plus several large garbage bags filled with dried leaves and a ton of equipment for lighting and irrigating. (Yeah, he was only using them "for making tea and taking baths in it.")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Uh&lt;em&gt;-huh&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;The funny picture captured by WNEP-16 news cameras was the inside of the Plymouth police barracks crammed full of pot plants, stacked neatly in many, many rows in front of a plain white wall, whose blandness was interrupted only by a bright red sign...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"NO SMOKING."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;What an interesting correlation! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Brought to you by D.A.R.E....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-3262025028778175340?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/3262025028778175340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=3262025028778175340&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3262025028778175340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3262025028778175340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/and-now-something-for-kiddies.html' title='And now, something for the kiddies'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-3952658604027978646</id><published>2007-03-19T15:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T16:09:50.645-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignorance is bliss. Arrogance is stupid. Beligerance is worthy of a slap upside the head.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;As I was driving from delivery point to delivery point, I had to stop at a small deli in the hell that is Wilkes-Barre, PA. The street was cluttered with piles of snow from the 12" that fell last weekend, and it was much too dangerous to attempt backing out of their teensy parking lot onto a state road, so I parked in front of the entrance to the lot, seeing as how the deli had just opened up, and no customers had arrived yet. I quickly unloaded the goods, took the stuff inside, and exited the door, only to be met by the co-owner of the business, who was walking from her house just up the street. She asked of me, "Hi. If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't park in front of the lot. Just pull in next time." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Simple enough. "Oh, I'm sorry. Will do," I complied.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;As if she didn't hear me, she continued. "Yeah, we really need to keep the entry way clear, so don't park right in front of the lot."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Again, I re-iterated, "No problem. I'll do that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;It was as if I were telling to go to heck. Now she started yelling, "I mean, what's wrong with you? Why would you park your truck there? Who do you think you are...?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Basta ya! Having reached the breaking point, I jabbed, "I &lt;strong&gt;said, 'OK!'&lt;/strong&gt; Now, &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; is enough!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Still, she kept on berating me. Seeing that Jezebel had nothing on this loon, I turned my back and got into my truck, with her bellowing after me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Sure, hold on one moment, ma'am, while I hop into my time machine, travel back to 3 minutes ago and magically cause my truck to not get pulled up in front of the parking lot.Oh, wait.  I have to make sure I confer with Professor Hawking to make sure my mathematical/astral computations are correct, first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Would you believe she had the audacity to call my boss and complain? Odd. My boss took my side.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-3952658604027978646?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/3952658604027978646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=3952658604027978646&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3952658604027978646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3952658604027978646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/ignorance-is-bliss-arrogance-is-stupid.html' title='Ignorance is bliss. Arrogance is stupid. Beligerance is worthy of a slap upside the head.'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-5907211921697342673</id><published>2007-03-18T08:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T09:05:32.077-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Much, much too late for that!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;There's only one thing more maddening than someone who rashly acts out without thinking, and that's a someone who rashly acts out without thinking and then wonders if what they did was right or wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;The following excerpts come from an AP story about a twisted and unfortunate love triangle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Affair With Teacher Leads to Slaying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By DUNCAN MANSFIELD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KNOXVILLE, Tenn. (March 17) - In a tragic twist to a familiar story, a teenager who had sex with his married 30-year-old teacher was fatally shot outside the woman's home, and authorities have charged the woman's husband.&lt;br /&gt;"You see all this stuff with teachers involved with their students. It just comes up time after time on the national news," said Norman McLean, father of suspect Eric McLean. "Well, this is the first time where one has actually died over it." McClean's wife, Erin, had completed half of a one-year teaching internship at West High School, where she met the 18-year-old Sean Powell last fall.&lt;br /&gt;Norman McLean said his son, once a percussionist in the University of Tennessee marching band, put his own academic career on hold to support his family while his wife of 11 years pursued a graduate teaching degree from the University of Tennessee. He has worked as a pizza deliveryman while taking classes at the university.&lt;br /&gt;On the evening of March 10, (Eric) McLean called police to say an intruder was at the couple's home. About 7 minutes later, Erin... called back to say her husband had just shot Powell outside in the boy's car.&lt;br /&gt;The attorney for Eric McLean, 31, acknowledges that McLean killed Powell. "So this trial is going to be about what really did happen and why _ not who," attorney Bruce Poston said. Poston said McLean is in a "state of shock. Like watching a deer caught in the headlights. Literally wondering, &lt;strong&gt;'Have I made a decision that will ruin the rest of my life as well as others?'&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Gee, I don't know, Eric. I'm not sure Powell's family have had their lives shattered by your quick-tempered solution to the situation or not. Hmm. What do your cell-mates tell you??? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-5907211921697342673?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/5907211921697342673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=5907211921697342673&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5907211921697342673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/5907211921697342673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/much-much-too-late-for-that.html' title='Much, much too late for that!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-3466442891434430936</id><published>2007-03-17T16:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-17T16:29:02.782-04:00</updated><title type='text'>To pee or not to pee?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Strange things are afoot in the American skies... Thanks to the A-pee (ha!ha!) for this contribution of outstanding journalism. Or not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Airline Apologizes to Man Who Urinated in Bag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;AP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;SALT LAKE CITY (March 17) - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;SkyWest&lt;/span&gt; Airlines apologized to a passenger who said he wasn't allowed to use the restroom during a one-hour flight and ended up urinating in an air-sickness bag.&lt;br /&gt;James Whipple said he had two "really big beers" at the Boise, Idaho airport. While on a flight to Salt Lake City on March 7 he wanted to use the cabin restroom. The captain had declared it off-limits during the short flight because a light wasn't working. Whipple said he had used the cabin restroom before the plane departed but had to go again and finally reached for the air-sickness bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"It was like I had no choice,"&lt;/strong&gt; Whipple told The Salt Lake Tribune, which posted the story on its Web site Friday. No other passengers noticed Whipple using the bag, but a flight attendant asked him about it and told the captain, who called airport police.&lt;br /&gt;Whipple was questioned and took a taxi home to Sandy, a Salt Lake City suburb. The airline sent him a letter of apology and a flight voucher, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;SkyWest&lt;/span&gt; spokeswoman &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Sabrena&lt;/span&gt; Suite-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mangum&lt;/span&gt; said Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;"You had no choice?" Oh, I see. So you were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;forcibly&lt;/span&gt; coerced into downing a couple of tall, cool ones before boarding? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;I do have to applaud this man in his semi-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;inebriated&lt;/span&gt; state for his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ingenuity&lt;/span&gt;. It beats urinating all over the floor, leaving the airline with a puddle to clean up. And, of course, the bag &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;is &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;"for motion discomfort!" After all, I'd be uncomfortable, too, with a couple of XXL &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;brewskies&lt;/span&gt; sloshing around in my kidneys.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-3466442891434430936?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/3466442891434430936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=3466442891434430936&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3466442891434430936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3466442891434430936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/to-pee-or-not-to-pee.html' title='To pee or not to pee?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-8614424957783744508</id><published>2007-03-15T16:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T16:32:53.195-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd today: Classic 7up or New 7up?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I delivered beverages to a nearby grocery store this last Wednesday. Not only am I responsible for bringing the product, but also for stocking the shelves at this store. They were bare! As such, when I wheeled out the goods onto the sales floor, many people asked me, "Could you hand me such-and-such?" ...Which I don't mind, so long as people aren't having a mental &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;embolism&lt;/span&gt;. And they often do!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Case in point: I brought out 12-pack cans of Diet 7up. A lady asked me, "Do you have any of the regular diet 7up?" I offered her one of the 12-packs on my cart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;"No, I want the &lt;em&gt;regular &lt;/em&gt;diet up."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Hesitantly, I stuttered, "This is it, ma'am."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;She defied, "No, that has lemon in it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Puzzled, but politely, I pointed, "Yes... Diet 7up has &lt;em&gt;always &lt;/em&gt;had lemon in it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Amazed, she did a double take and blurted, "Really???" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;In an attempt to dissolve any tension, I said, "Yeah. I remember those ads when I was a kid, 'That great &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ly&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mon&lt;/span&gt; taste.'" (Come to think of it, I think that's Sprite, but I know 7up always mentioned lemon and lime being in their drink.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;After a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;reflective&lt;/span&gt; pause, a sour expression crossed her face, and she shot, "Wow. I don't like lemon..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Ah, yes, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Un&lt;/span&gt;-cola. Perfect for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-aware.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-8614424957783744508?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/8614424957783744508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=8614424957783744508&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8614424957783744508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/8614424957783744508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/2nd-today-classic-7up-or-new-7up.html' title='2nd today: Classic 7up or New 7up?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-4495937814014363442</id><published>2007-03-15T16:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T16:40:52.744-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In honor of Brian Regan</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;In order to fully appreciate this, refer to &lt;a href="http://www.brianregan.com/"&gt;www.brianregan.com&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Sometimes, we say things blindly, without any thought or cognisance. Yesterday, I encountered such an event.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I was completing a delivery, and upon getting the product checked in, I received the signature on the invoice from the store clerk. I closed by saying, "I appreciate it!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;"You too!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Misuse of the "You too" phrase #314875923425.3856!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Just a few more posts before PSST goes under a major revamping! Starting with post #501, the name "People Say Stupid Things" will be changed to "Nullum Cerebellum Bumboli," which loosely translated, means "No More Brain Farts!" This way, we can expand our scorn on various expressions of stupidity, not just audible ones. Update your links!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-4495937814014363442?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/4495937814014363442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=4495937814014363442&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4495937814014363442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4495937814014363442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/in-honor-of-brian-regan.html' title='In honor of Brian Regan'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-1054390243711497708</id><published>2007-03-12T21:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-12T22:07:22.730-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stink Patrick's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Have people nothing better to talk about? '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Parently&lt;/span&gt; not!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The city of Scranton, PA, hosted their big drunk-fest, er, I mean, St. Patty's parade this past Saturday. (Supposedly, it's the third-largest shamrock celebration in the nation.) Many folks--myself included-- don't really care to venture downtown on that day, because what once was a family event is now nothing but a big, unending &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;kegger&lt;/span&gt;, with bars opening up at 9:00. &lt;strong&gt;AM. &lt;/strong&gt;By the time the parade starts at 11:30, most spectators are more blasted than an alien in Space Invaders. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Our local news-station, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;WNEP&lt;/span&gt;-16, has a unique little feature on their website (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;wnep&lt;/span&gt;.com) called "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Talkback&lt;/span&gt; Online," in which people can post threads about a variety of topics covered on the news. I expected discussion about the parade and its &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;unpleasantries&lt;/span&gt;, but I didn't expect a certain specific to be hung out like&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;dirty laundry, no pun intended. The following are excerpts of posts, verbatim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Does any one know what the smell at the parade was? It was all over town! It smelled like urine or strong smelling flowers." &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Wow. time to get your sniffer checked!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at work on Saturday and when we would go outside I kept on saying, what is that smell. It was very odd. I really thought that I was the only one that was smelling it. Maybe it was all of the Beer mixed in with that downtown Scranton smell. &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;...And how does downtown smell compared to, say, West side?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We smelled that funky smell, too. After walking for a while and smelling it often, we wondered if it was the sewers. &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Wait. We've gone from strong-smelling flowers to sewage?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left work early because I could not stand to smell it and watch the behavior!&lt;br /&gt;How can something smell like urine or strong flowers? I find this description confusing. &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Couldn't agree with you more!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not go to the parade, I watch it on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;, I smell nothing bad. &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;...Except yourself?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and the smell, some people has cans of spray that smelled like skunk... &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Urine, skunk, flowers, what's the difference? Apparently, none!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Aaaaaall&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;righty&lt;/span&gt;, then. We have firmly established that Scranton reeks on Parade Day. But what a potpourri of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;descriptions&lt;/span&gt; about the odor! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;My favorite post had nothing to do with the reported &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;odiferousness&lt;/span&gt;, however...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the bars should not be allowed to open so early and sell the drinks as fast as possible and &lt;strong&gt;for people to become drunk and stupid.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Excuse me-- BECOME stupid? No, I'm sure they were stupid way before they arrived for the festivities. The alcohol definitely augments the lack of intelligence, however. So, more accurately, "...people to become drunk and &lt;em&gt;stupider.&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-1054390243711497708?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/1054390243711497708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=1054390243711497708&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1054390243711497708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1054390243711497708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/stink-patricks-day.html' title='Stink Patrick&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-4063822646915004160</id><published>2007-03-07T18:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T18:33:59.129-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nullum Ignoramus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I was in the midst of delivering product to a hole-in-the-wall convenient store in a tiny, rural town today. They have virtually no parking lot, so I had to place my truck in front of the diesel pump while I filled the cooler inside. Lo and behold, Redneck Rudy waltzes in the store and bellows, "Hey, is Canada Dry Dude almost done?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Normally, I'd offer to move my truck, but not when faced with an intellectual vacuum accompanied with an attitude. (Also, where would I move it to?) Instead, I set down my product, and said to him, "I'll be done soon."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Foxworthy-wanna-be arrogantly quipped, "When?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Irritated, I shot an apathetic "I don't know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Not missing a beat, the cranial enigma spat, "How long is 'I don't know'?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Don't have a strong grasp on the English language, do you, fella? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-4063822646915004160?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/4063822646915004160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=4063822646915004160&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4063822646915004160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/4063822646915004160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/nullum-ignoramus.html' title='Nullum Ignoramus'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-3737981116545467575</id><published>2007-03-04T15:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T15:32:26.467-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow! Double whammy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Legal obviously needed to print the following info for a reason. Whoever fell victim to this stuff-- man, it sucks to be you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Warning placed on Scotch brand Maximum Strength Adhesive:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DANGER: EXTREMELY FLAMMABLE EYE IRRITANT. Read carefully other precautions &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;(in teeny, tiny type, I might add) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;on back panel.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AAAAGHHH! &lt;/strong&gt;I &lt;em&gt;can't &lt;/em&gt;read the back. My eye's on fire!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-3737981116545467575?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/3737981116545467575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=3737981116545467575&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3737981116545467575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3737981116545467575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/wow-double-whammy.html' title='Wow! Double whammy!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-9105776233697073357</id><published>2007-03-02T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T17:10:35.641-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How may I endanger you today?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Today I drove my beverage truck to an area grocery store (privately-owned) to make a delivery. I have one of those trucks that has bay doors on the side, as opposed to a big truck with a single door on the back. I had quite a lot of product, which my loaders had set in my truck on pallets. I entered the store, and asked the receiver if I could use their forklift to pull off the pallets and bring them inside the dock. Like a complete &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;doofus&lt;/span&gt;, the receiver said, "Sure." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I say he's a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;doofus&lt;/span&gt; because he left out one VERY important piece of information. Read on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I started the forklift, and proceeded off the dock toward my truck, which sat on a slight downward slope. As I attempted to position the lift accordingly, I suddenly found out what the missing piece of info was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;No brakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(A forklift typically weighs over a ton. The split-second prospect of hurtling toward a 10-ton truck on a 1-plus-ton lift was most unsettling, especially when it came to my physical well-being.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So here I am, about to crash into my truck. All I had time to do was hold on and cut the wheel hard, so that I struck my truck with the side of the lift without doing any damage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;KA&lt;/span&gt;-BOOM!!!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I was unhurt, but quite agitated, as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;doofus&lt;/span&gt; came running out, hollering, "Hey! What are you doing???"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What am I doing??" &lt;/strong&gt;I raged. "Why didn't you &lt;strong&gt;tell&lt;/strong&gt; me this piece of crap had no brakes?!?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;After a long, vacant pause, he muttered, "&lt;em&gt;Oh, yeah, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;should've&lt;/span&gt; told you&lt;/em&gt;..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;With help like this, I think I can safely assume this store is never going to be competing with the Kroger's of the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-9105776233697073357?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/9105776233697073357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=9105776233697073357&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/9105776233697073357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/9105776233697073357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/how-may-i-endanger-you-today.html' title='How may I endanger you today?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-7659492844794637935</id><published>2007-03-01T19:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T19:35:32.319-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Determined to destuction</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Today's post comes from News Quirks, a compilation of news clippings by Roland Sweet. Where do they find these people???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Police who pulled over Patrick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Allain&lt;/span&gt;, 35, for drunk driving in Manchester, NH, said the man continued drinking a 40-ounce bottle of beer while he was being arrested. "You can charge me with whatever you want," officers said he told them. "It's not going to stop me from drinking and driving."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;TRIPLE WHAMMY!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;1) "It's not going to stop me"??? The charges might, but incarceration will.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;2) Yo, doughnut &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;aficionados&lt;/span&gt;! Take the stinking bottle away from the dude!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;3) Obviously, this guy has such an acute case of cranial &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;rectosis&lt;/span&gt; that he doesn't care who he hurts/ maims/ endangers/ kills. I'm definitely not taking my family on a trip to Manchester!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;As my grandfather once said, "Some people just need a good swift punch in the head..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-7659492844794637935?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/7659492844794637935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=7659492844794637935&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7659492844794637935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7659492844794637935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/03/determined-to-destuction.html' title='Determined to destuction'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-3424651661327923460</id><published>2007-02-28T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T18:54:23.555-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Body language spoken LOUDLY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Today, after completing a delivery at a convenient store, I grabbed my hand-cart and prepared to leave. However, as I approached the door, a trio of friends were having a detailed conversation. I patiently waited a moment or two, but after failing to see them acknowledge me (or anyone else) wishing to access the door, I firmly but politely chirped, "Excuse me, please."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;The cluster of companions still were too engrossed in their conversation, so I called out a little louder. This time, they looked at me, and moved themselves-- RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOORS in a straight line, so nobody could exit, or enter from the outside. Smooth move, Ex-lax.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;I'm guessing they never learned what peripheral vision meant...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-3424651661327923460?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/3424651661327923460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=3424651661327923460&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3424651661327923460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/3424651661327923460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/body-language-spoken-loudly.html' title='Body language spoken LOUDLY'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-7883263956110038970</id><published>2007-02-22T19:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T19:32:53.867-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dick Cheney, I presume?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Our local arts and entertainment weekly, "The Weekender," has published yet another odd Q &amp; A feature... This week's poll question: "What are you superstitious about?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Henry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rembish&lt;/span&gt;, 32, answered: " The shirt I accidentally shot my friend in. It hangs in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;back of my closet but I won't wear it." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Adding much more clarity to this blurred picture is Chris &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Varzaly&lt;/span&gt;, 32, showing off a nasty scar right below his collarbone: "...Getting shot by guys in funny shirts."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;With friends like this, who needs gun control?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-7883263956110038970?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/7883263956110038970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=7883263956110038970&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7883263956110038970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7883263956110038970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/dick-cheney-i-presume.html' title='Dick Cheney, I presume?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-7254372653956566134</id><published>2007-02-18T11:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-18T11:53:46.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brain freeze</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Due to a major snowstorm that hit Northeastern PA (17" on average) on Wednesday, my company needed to revamp our delivery schedule for the rest of the week. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Yesterday, (Sat.) I was preparing to deliver to a small store that has a history of money problems. Rather than have the order refused because they weren't able to pay, I took the invoice in first to see if they could foot the bill.  The store owner met me with angry disbelief. "Why are you guys here today, instead of last Wednesday?" he demanded. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I stared at him, stunned at the obvious lack of intelligence in his question. I couldn't think of anything outside of the realm of sarcasm to say, so, with a deliberate tone, I dripped, "...Because the roads were covered with 17" of snow and the governor declared a state of emergency!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I don't know if he was surprised by what I said, or if he thought I would sheepishly shrink back. After a brief pause, all he could do was meekly chirp, "...Oh..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;12:00! Time for your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lobotomy&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-7254372653956566134?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/7254372653956566134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=7254372653956566134&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7254372653956566134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/7254372653956566134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/brain-freeze.html' title='Brain freeze'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-1681350446558348201</id><published>2007-02-14T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T22:39:00.987-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Naive is your middle name</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;How I &lt;em&gt;love &lt;/em&gt;getting comments from anonymous folks. Especially when they fit right into the format of this blog...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;A mystery commentator left a response to my posting from 1/31 entitled "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/reality-check.html"&gt;Reality Check&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;." It was a story of a young mother who left her young children in a car on the side of a busy highway in order to go dancing inside a club, and was consequently arrested. The boys were scantily clad in shorts and T-shirts on a night where temps dropped below 50. A sad story indeed. However, what's even more alarming is what Mr. (or Ms.) Ambiguous had to say about it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Anonymous said: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;While I am sure that most of this story is true. I am sure that the reporter left out the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;fact &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;that the boys had blankets or jackets. No one could sleep in shorts and t-shirts in those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tempatures&lt;/span&gt;...the media really pisses me off!!!!!This woman should &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;definately&lt;/span&gt; be punished, however, I'm sick of the media &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;blowing everything out of proportion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;You're joking, right? You actually believe this woman, who had her head so far up her butt that she could see her liver was thoughtful enough to provide the boys with blankets? Here's a chick so self-centered that she put a night out ahead of the welfare of her kids, and you think the news exaggerated? Come on now, get real. ...Come to think of it, perhaps were you there with her? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;(BTW, "tempatures"??? Hukt on fonix may werk fer ewe two!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;If you believe that the media lied, then I'd like to tell you more about "Bat-boy" and the alien who has befriended Hillary Clinton.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-1681350446558348201?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/1681350446558348201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=1681350446558348201&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1681350446558348201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/1681350446558348201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/naive-is-your-middle-name.html' title='Naive is your middle name'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-117141365667175451</id><published>2007-02-13T19:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T19:40:56.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow, sleet and freezing panic</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Living in Northeastern PA means that from time to time we get snow. Not a new concept! However, it never ceases to amaze me how a little white stuff creates absolute mayhem, frenzy and general unpreparedness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Our local news stations started predicting a major snow storm to hit us today three days ago, yet the streets were relatively calm and quiet, until today...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Snow flurries began around 2:15. Immediately-- but not prior to this point-- the entire region mobilized!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;The lines for bread, milk and eggs at area grocery stores clogged every aisle. Traffic increased 5 times as everyone, motivated by incomparable fear, rushed out to secure their goods. ...And then had the audacity to be surprised when supermarket shelves grew bare!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;As I delivered product to an area convenient store, a man DASHED (literally) into the store and exclaimed with a huge, loud sigh of relief, "Oh, thank GOD you have hamburger buns! All the other stores are completely out. &lt;strong&gt;Can you believe it&lt;/strong&gt;???"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;(You know, bud, the stores had plenty of buns Sunday. And Monday. Why didn't you go out and get them then?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Hey, man, you're so on top of things. Have you considered a career as an emergency response operator?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-117141365667175451?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/117141365667175451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=117141365667175451&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117141365667175451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117141365667175451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/snow-sleet-and-freezing-panic.html' title='Snow, sleet and freezing panic'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-117112337973411658</id><published>2007-02-10T10:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T11:18:21.663-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The sweet that broke the camel's tooth</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Something in this story from the AP just doesn't add up... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Woman breaks tooth, wants town to pay &lt;/strong&gt;(AP) ABINGTON, Mass. - Trying to get something done at town hall can be a pain, one local woman says for her it was literally. Joanne Harding broke a tooth on a Tootsie Roll-- &lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Hold the phone! Broke her tooth on a&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;TOOTSIE ROLL??? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;--broke a tooth on a Tootsie Roll&lt;/span&gt; she took from a candy jar in the town clerk's office in Abington Town Hall last month during a visit to get a license for her dog.&lt;br /&gt;Now, Harding wants the town to help pay her $4,000-$5,000 dental bill.&lt;br /&gt;"I took the candy, so it's partially my fault," the 40-year-old Harding told the Patriot Ledger of Quincy. "I wouldn't have taken it if it wasn't there."&lt;br /&gt;Town Manager Phillip Warren Jr. forwarded Harding's request for financial assistance to the town's insurance carrier.&lt;br /&gt;"We'll wait to see what the insurance company says," he said.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, the candy jars are still there at the clerk's office. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Lots wrong with this little epic! First, $5000 for one tooth? What were they made out of, platinum??? Granted, I don't know much about the state of economics and medicine in New England, but...&lt;br /&gt;Second, "It's partially my fault. I wouldn't have taken it if it wasn't there"? What, did someone at the clerk's office MAKE you take a candy? I can see it now-- "Sorry, you can't be attended to until you have taken a candy from the jar!" Incredible. You have the audacity to admit fault, yet you want to hold the town a monetary hostage for YOUR mistake?&lt;br /&gt;Third&lt;strong&gt;, broke a tooth &lt;em&gt;on a Tootsie Roll&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;? Just how long was that little treat sitting in that jar? Was it from 1997??&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, and most incredulously-- if that's a proper phrase-- The jars are still at the office? That's smart. Now that everybody knows about this queer happenstance, open yourself up to more financial attacks by would-be gainers! No wonder taxes across the New England region are so high!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another group of people helplessly sucked into the inescapable vortex of stupidity... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Since stupidity apparently knows no bounds, "PSST" will be renamed and retooled after the fifth presentation of the STUPIES! We'll be covering more things like this chickie-boo in MA and other asinine things people do that set them apart as... er, extremely stupid. Stay tuned! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-117112337973411658?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/117112337973411658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=117112337973411658&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117112337973411658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117112337973411658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/sweet-that-broke-camels-tooth.html' title='The sweet that broke the camel&apos;s tooth'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-117105331273642918</id><published>2007-02-09T15:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T15:35:12.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time for another "Just Shut Up"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;This most recent awarding-- yes, this is not just a nomination, but an actual presentation-- of a supplemental "Just Shut Up" STUPIE goes to every single newspaper, radio station, TV station and tabloid in America for continually bombarding the public with the droning noise of Anna Nicole Smith's death. Everywhere you turn, there's her face, her bio, her career, her twisted paternal issues... I don't mean to sound cold or uncaring, but is anyone &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;surprised? &lt;strong&gt;Nothing&lt;/strong&gt; in this gal's life made sense. Her existence lacked &lt;strong&gt;any&lt;/strong&gt; semblance of rhyme or reason. (Now, I grant you that some things were out of her control, but most of it she brought upon herself.)&lt;br /&gt;For those of us who are "normal" and striving to make our lives better on a daily basis, we find this constant blather just plain irritating. Anna lived a tragic life and died a tragic death. End of story.&lt;br /&gt;Please, members of the media world, do us a favor and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;JUST SHUT UP!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-117105331273642918?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/117105331273642918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=117105331273642918&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117105331273642918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117105331273642918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/time-for-another-just-shut-up.html' title='Time for another &quot;Just Shut Up&quot;'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-117062058870254062</id><published>2007-02-04T15:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T15:23:08.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Obviously wasn't a girl scout</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The girl scout's motto is "Be Prepared," hence setting up today's sad and tragic tale.&lt;br /&gt;ABC News obtained copies of some of the 911 calls that victims of the sudden tornado in Central Florida made, shortly after the vortex ripped apart their fair community. I couldn't believe what I heard, as ABC played the tape of a frantic, terrified (older) girl calling in to the emergency response center.&lt;br /&gt;VICTIM: I... I think my mom is dead!!!&lt;br /&gt;OPERATOR: &lt;strong&gt;Is anyone hurt?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: My mom! My mom is gone and my mom's bed is gone! Oh, my God!&lt;br /&gt;O: &lt;strong&gt;Is your mom there? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Pete's sake, did you listen to a single word this poor gal just said? You want to help? Stop asking useless questions, admit to your superiors that you are NOT prepared to handle emergency situations and get more training! Isn't it enough that this gal just experienced the horror of her house being ripped to shreds by a tornado without you traumatizing her with stupid questions???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-117062058870254062?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/117062058870254062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=117062058870254062&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117062058870254062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117062058870254062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/obviously-wasnt-girl-scout.html' title='Obviously wasn&apos;t a girl scout'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-117052840103482167</id><published>2007-02-03T13:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-03T13:46:41.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The dung stops here</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;The city of Scranton, PA has a law that pet owners must clean up all their pets' waste when taking the little beasties on a walk. However, this is seldom paid attention to, or enforced for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;When the doody problem got a bit out-of-hand in a certain community, a couple of furious residents took matters into their own hands, posting home-made messages to would-be violators. The crude placards were captured on film and the picture posted in &lt;em&gt;The Weekender, &lt;/em&gt;the area's local arts and entertainment weekly. Sign one read: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;To the low-life scum who thinks it's OK to let their animals urinate and defecate on the lawn and sidewalk of an 80-year-old woman:&lt;br /&gt;1) I have 2 adult German shepherds.&lt;br /&gt;2) I will catch you.&lt;br /&gt;3) You will reap what you have sown.&lt;br /&gt;4) I live at ********, come and get it.&lt;br /&gt;5) See the message your Penn St. neighbors left you." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;The neighbors added: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;To the inconsiderate nasty person who keeps allowing their &lt;strong&gt;DOG &lt;/strong&gt;to trespass and &lt;strong&gt;CRAP &lt;/strong&gt;on these lawns and does not &lt;strong&gt;CLEAN IT UP-- BE WARNED-- &lt;/strong&gt;The police are being notified that you are &lt;strong&gt;BREAKING THE LAW! &lt;/strong&gt;Let your dog stink up your own property, you lazy ignorant &lt;strong&gt;JERK. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signed, the neighbors. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Yeah, it stinks (no pun intended) to continually clean up animal feces from your property, but "You will reap what you sow, come and get it"??? What, is Ethel going to defecate all over the violator's home? It also wasn't too bright of dear old granny to advertise her age, and then her address. I hope those to German shepherds are good watch dogs, ready to scare would-be burglars away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't ever think I've seen waste divide a community as much as this one. ...Brings a whole new meaning to the term &lt;em&gt;anal-retentive! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-117052840103482167?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/117052840103482167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=117052840103482167&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117052840103482167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117052840103482167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/02/dung-stops-here.html' title='The dung stops here'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-117019430725877258</id><published>2007-01-30T16:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T16:58:27.276-05:00</updated><title type='text'>REALITY CHECK!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;More stories of paernts who ought not be... This one comes courtesy the Asheville (NC) Citizens-Times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mother leaves kids sleeping in car to dance at club&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;by The Associated Press &lt;br /&gt;MORGANTON, N.C. – A Morganton woman faces child abuse charges for leaving her sleeping boys in the car while she went dancing at a club, authorities said. Georgina Marquez, 37, was charged with two counts of misdemeanor child abuse after Hickory police officers found her 10- and 12-year-old sons in a car parked outside Fantacia's dance club in Hickory about 1:30 a.m. Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;Officers discovered the boys while issuing parking tickets to cars illegally parked along the highway, said Hickory police Sgt. Scott Hildebrand.&lt;br /&gt;A police report says the boys told authorities their mother left them in the car about 10:40 p.m. Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;The boys were dressed in shorts and T-shirts while temperatures were in the low 50s, police said, and the heat was not on in the car.&lt;br /&gt;Marquez said she checked on the sleeping boys every 30 minutes. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Oh, that makes it all OK, then!!) &lt;/span&gt;Hildebrand said the Department of Social Services was called before the children were released to Marquez, who was released on $2,000 bond. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;What a pathetic slap on the wrist. I have no witty tag for this-- all I can do is shake my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-117019430725877258?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/117019430725877258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=117019430725877258&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117019430725877258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117019430725877258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/reality-check.html' title='REALITY CHECK!!!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-117010639373795116</id><published>2007-01-29T16:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T16:33:13.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maintenance in need of maintenance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Last Monday, our housing manager/landlord "Doris" came to inspect our premises, as per HUD guidelines. In the course of her look-see, she told Mrs. I to watch the kitchen sink very carefully, because "We've had problems with the pipes before." Nice of you to tell us &lt;em&gt;now, &lt;/em&gt;as opposed to when we moved in!&lt;br /&gt;The fateful words rang true when our pipes started leaking-- no, &lt;strong&gt;pouring&lt;/strong&gt;-- water yesterday. Upon a quick glance, it was clear almost every single O-ring (the rings which hold the pipes together) were loose, and one was completely detatched. We called maintenance and filed an emergency report. Within an hour, someone came, and rectified the situation. When I asked why every ring was loose, he shrugged, "&lt;strong&gt;Dunno. Must've been an oversight&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The entire kitchen was redone before we moved in: new fridge, sink, countertops, cabinets, tiling... How could you overlook tightening up the sink pipes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stupidity flare-up #1.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, my wife heard a knock on the door. It was a different maintenance man. "&lt;strong&gt;You have a problem with the kitchen sink, ma'am?&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You mean you didn't check the log from yesterday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stupidity flare-up #2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;After my wife explained that the repairs had already been made, she pointed out what the problem was. "Every single O-ring was loose, and one was completely removed." Their response: "&lt;strong&gt;Not sure how that happened. Something must've loosened them&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All&lt;/strong&gt; of them??? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah, I forgot I decided to loosen all the O-rings right after moving in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stupidity flare-up #3.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And these are the folks in charge of making sure everything in these apartments is ship-shape. &lt;strong&gt;Brilliant!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-117010639373795116?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/117010639373795116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=117010639373795116&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117010639373795116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/117010639373795116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/maintenance-in-need-of-maintenance.html' title='Maintenance in need of maintenance'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116994321537563320</id><published>2007-01-27T19:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-27T19:13:35.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tracking in mud and stupidity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;My family and I went to the library today. It was cold with scattered snow showers which wet the pavement and walkways. As we approached the front door, we noticed the sign the library personnel had posted: PLEASE WIPE FEET BEFORE ENTERING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, on the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;sidewalk, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;since there's no mat out here? I'm sure that will help keep the library clean and pristine!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116994321537563320?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116994321537563320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116994321537563320&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116994321537563320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116994321537563320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/tracking-in-mud-and-stupidity.html' title='Tracking in mud and stupidity'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116985738955386249</id><published>2007-01-26T19:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T19:23:09.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"HEADS UP!!!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;A small airplane flying overhead has just had a piece of its fuselage break loose. The fragmented mass comes hurtling down to earth, where you and a bunch of your friends are having a picnic. One person looks up, and inevitably yells those misguided words....&lt;br /&gt;"HEADS UP!!!"&lt;br /&gt;The natural inclination, when hearing that spoken, is to look up. However, rarely do you have the time. You're about to get bashed in the noggin, and you're expected to look up first, and &lt;em&gt;then &lt;/em&gt;react? Shouldn't the appropriate warning be, "Take cover!" or "Duck!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a question you can ask your neurosurgeon as you're recovering from severe head trauma in the ICU. ... If you can even remember what happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116985738955386249?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116985738955386249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116985738955386249&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116985738955386249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116985738955386249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/heads-up.html' title='&quot;HEADS UP!!!&quot;'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116960539106752488</id><published>2007-01-23T20:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T21:23:11.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'>(Lacking) Attention to detail</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Each Monday, I make a beverage delivery to a small mom &amp;amp; pop grocery store. Every week, upon receipt of the product, the owner, Bruce, writes me a check for payment. ..For the last 9 months... &lt;strong&gt;Each&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;every&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Monday...&lt;br /&gt;This past week, I entered Bruce's domain, and gave him the bill so he could write the check. When he returned, he asked me, "So. Where's the other guy?"&lt;br /&gt;"The... &lt;em&gt;other &lt;/em&gt;guy?" I hesitated.&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, the other guy," he emphasized. "&lt;strong&gt;The guy who usually delivers here&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know I did change my shirt since last week, but... I wonder if he's this attentive to his customers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116960539106752488?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116960539106752488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116960539106752488&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116960539106752488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116960539106752488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/lacking-attention-to-detail.html' title='(Lacking) Attention to detail'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116952262117285224</id><published>2007-01-22T21:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T22:25:18.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd today: Thanks for contributing. ...To the problem!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Background for this post:&lt;/em&gt; The Diocese of Scranton (PA) recently announced a plan to close many elementary-level parochial schools, and to consolidate all high schools into 1 in 2 different counties, accurately citing dwindling enrollment as well as a severe lack of funds coming into the Diocese through parishioners. This part of the country is heavily Catholic, and the outrage created by this difficult decision has been no small thing. But what to do now? Let's check in on Luzerne County to see how folks are handling the news, courtesy citizensvoice.com, the online paper from Wilkes-Barre, PA! (Bold type added for emphasis.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Frustrated Parents Want Answers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BY ELIZABETH SKRAPITS, STAFF WRITER&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;PITTSTON TWP. --Supporters of Luzerne County's four Catholic high schools want specifics from the Diocese of Scranton about the consolidation, and they won't be quiet until they get them.&lt;br /&gt;Frustration and anger permeated the Pittston Convention Center Sunday when approximately 300 people from Bishop Hafey, Seton Catholic, Bishop O'Reilly and Bishop Hoban high schools held their first joint meeting to work on &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;strategies&lt;/em&gt;. These included withholding money from parish collection baskets&lt;/strong&gt;, hosting an advertising campaign and protesting peacefully.&lt;br /&gt;Parents are considering starting a private Catholic high school not affiliated with the diocese, similar to St. Rose Academy in Carbondale. &lt;strong&gt;Parishioners should also forego the bishop's annual appeal&lt;/strong&gt;, said Bishop O'Reilly parents' spokesman Tom O'Connor, who chaired the meeting.&lt;br /&gt;Seton parent Ron D'Eliseo distributed copies of a $1 million bill with Bishop Joseph Martino's face on it, &lt;strong&gt;to send to the diocese in lieu of cash&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"As far as I'm concerned, this is the only money he's (Martino) getting from me anymore," D'Eliseo said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Great ideas all, morons with money! The diocese needs cash to fund parochial education, so let's withhold it, hurting the diocese even more for those wanting to send their kids to private Catholic schools.&lt;br /&gt;Though I myself am not Catholic, my understanding is that it is NOT acceptable to question or belittle priests, bishops, and the like. Also, didn't Jesus Himself once say,"Rend to Caeser what is Caeser's, but rend to God that which is God's"? So I guess it's OK to prioritize my child's existence in his/her current, under-used school over the words of the One I claim to be a follower of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can keep your precious common &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;cents&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, Mr. O'Connor and D'Eliseo. I'd rather you have common&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt; sense. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116952262117285224?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116952262117285224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116952262117285224&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116952262117285224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116952262117285224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/2nd-today-thanks-for-contributing-to.html' title='2nd today: Thanks for contributing. ...To the problem!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116952005676696703</id><published>2007-01-22T21:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T21:40:56.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing "Magi-carpet!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;As I had previously disclosed, my family and I recently had to move due to the fact our back wall was bursting with toxic mold. Our new place is considerably smaller, and the living room in particular is a loss of 12 square feet from that of our old residence. Our landlord, "Doris"-- most unfortunately-- has remained unchanged.&lt;br /&gt;Today, Doris came in for an inspection. She entered the living room, stared at the carpet and asked, "Is this the carpet you had in the old place?"&lt;br /&gt;MRS. I: "Yes..."&lt;br /&gt;D, puzzled: "How did you make it bigger?"&lt;br /&gt;MRS. I, baffled: "What?"&lt;br /&gt;D, reiterating: "How did you make the carpet bigger?"&lt;br /&gt;MRS. I: "We didn't. Mr. I had to cut it down to make it fit in here."&lt;br /&gt;D, confused: "Wait a minute. Isn't this place bigger than your last place?"&lt;br /&gt;MRS. I, losing patience: "No, the other place was quite a bit larger. Mr. I cut the carpet so it would fit in this room."&lt;br /&gt;D, clueless, and obviously featuring an enormously short attention span: "Right. So how'd you make the rug bigger?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To quote a line from the hit TV show "Friends," "I need to buy a vowel, because &lt;strong&gt;O-&lt;/strong&gt;MG!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116952005676696703?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116952005676696703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116952005676696703&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116952005676696703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116952005676696703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/introducing-magi-carpet.html' title='Introducing &quot;Magi-carpet!&quot;'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116932016881519098</id><published>2007-01-20T13:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-20T14:15:31.020-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Critical mass</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Another major television figure puts her mouth where it doesn't belong... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Rosie's Latest Target Is 'Intoxicated' Abdul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;O'Donnell Leads Criticism Against 'Idol's Nasty Edge&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By BUCK WOLF&lt;br /&gt;ABCNews.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jan. 19 --Rosie O'Donnell is one of the 37 million TV viewers watching "American Idol," but don't count her among those who liked what they saw.&lt;br /&gt;For the second day in a row, "The View" co-host suggested was drinking during the show and lashed out at the show for making fun of the people auditioning. O'Donnell and her co-hosts played a clip from Wednesday night's "Idol," in which a contestant, following an off-key audition, was roundly mocked and rejected by the judges.&lt;br /&gt;"That's compassion for you," O'Donnell said. "Isn't that what America thinks is entertainment, to make fun of someone's physical appearance? And then, when they leave the room, laugh hysterically at them -- three millionaires, one probably intoxicated."&lt;br /&gt;O'Donnell had joked about Abdul's demeanor a day earlier. "Paula was very thirsty last night," she said.&lt;br /&gt;"That girl was sipping Coke every shot. And toward the end of the evening, one eye was wandering." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;OK, O'D, who made &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; the moral compass of Hollywood? You, who has had a career full of relational gaffes and idiotic outbusts, dare to accuse Paula of being drunk, even though you have no proof?&lt;br /&gt;You have no inkling as to what is and isn't musical excellence, but at least 2 of the 3 AI judges do. (Paula's questionable, but she's definitely more qualified than you are!) This is why you (currently) don't have your own TV show. You criticize how the show is handled, and judge TV viewers how intelligent they are? (Yeah, that'll win "the Phew" new fans!)&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that IS what America thinks is entertainment, to the tune of a solid #1 in theNielsenn ratings. Also, "Odie" seems to forget that most people who audition&lt;/em&gt; know &lt;/em&gt;they aren't really Idol material, and are just looking for their 15 minutes of fame. Some use costumes and physical appearance as their gimmick or hook, and purposely subjugate themselves to ridicule.&lt;br /&gt;Rosie was quite successful at 3 things: alienating the American public, making herself look like an egotist by tearing down another public figure, and proving that her failures at stand-up comedy and talk-show host were no flukes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, O'D has earned herself a nomination for the "Just Shut Up" award at the STUPIES V awards presentations...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116932016881519098?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116932016881519098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116932016881519098&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116932016881519098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116932016881519098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/critical-mass.html' title='Critical mass'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116925115608131858</id><published>2007-01-19T18:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T18:59:16.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In the wrong place all the time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Along a straight 2-mile wooded stretch of US Route 11 in Northeastern PA, with a steep hill on one side and a river and guard rail on the other is the following sign:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WATCH FOR TURNS.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, yes, my tax dollars used to place that sign were definitely worth it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116925115608131858?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116925115608131858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116925115608131858&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116925115608131858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116925115608131858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/in-wrong-place-all-time.html' title='In the wrong place all the time'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116907814073668237</id><published>2007-01-17T18:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T18:55:40.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We regret to inform you your joke isn't funny</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;I entered a grocery store today and heard two employees conversing. One was telling the other a joke, which was worthy of being deemed a stupid thing said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;"A man walked into a fancy restaurant. The maitre'D asked, 'Good evening sir. Do you have a reservation?' The man retorted, 'Why? Do I look like a (bleeping American) Indian?'" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;"HA! HA! HA!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;[Go-o-o-o-o-o-o-nnng!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116907814073668237?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116907814073668237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116907814073668237&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116907814073668237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116907814073668237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/we-regret-to-inform-you-your-joke-isnt.html' title='We regret to inform you your joke isn&apos;t funny'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116881003154821329</id><published>2007-01-14T16:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T16:27:11.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Wal-mart. How may I freak you out?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I know some people may accuse me of making this stuff up, but... Weird happens! You &lt;strong&gt;can't &lt;/strong&gt;create fiction like this!!!&lt;br /&gt;My family and I entered Wally's World one day last week. We were in the midst of our harried, sudden move from our old apartment, so we were tired, stressed, and irritated. As we went through the door, we spotted the "greeter." He's an old guy who talks to himself a lot, misdirects people who ask, "Where can I find such-and-such?" and hovers over folks trying to grab a shopping cart like they were stealing it...&lt;br /&gt;I was holding my children's hands; my daughter on one side, my son on the other, attempting to give the Geezer Greeter a &lt;strong&gt;wide&lt;/strong&gt; berth. However, he came wobbling up to me and pointed at the kids. "Hey! Hey! Excuse me sir! Are those a return?"&lt;br /&gt;I stopped dead in my tracks and blurted, &lt;em&gt;"WHAT???"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He repeated his daft inquiry. I was stunned. Was this crotchety Joe making a joke, or was he serious?&lt;br /&gt;Attempting to read his face, I got no clear indication. I had no idea what to say, other than, "No. She belongs to me, and so does he."&lt;br /&gt;Equally puzzled, the man bumbled, "Oh. OK. I just wanted to be sure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe what I &lt;em&gt;should &lt;/em&gt;have said was, "Why, yes they are. I'm tired of them and want to trade them in for another pair. You got any kids left in the CHILDREN'S department???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Beyond &lt;/strong&gt;bizarre...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116881003154821329?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116881003154821329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116881003154821329&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116881003154821329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116881003154821329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/welcome-to-wal-mart-how-may-i-freak.html' title='Welcome to Wal-mart. How may I freak you out?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116864393010760216</id><published>2007-01-12T18:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T18:18:50.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brittney SpeaKs. Run for cover!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Favorite PSST target Brittney Spears has once again made herself available to public ridicule and scorn by opening her mouth. I guess some people just don't learn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;“I noticed today that one of my biggest fansites is shutting down soon and I want you all to know that I do understand all the reasons that went behind making that decision, and I am sad to see it closing,’’ [Brittney] writes. &lt;strong&gt;“If I were you I’d be unhappy too if I had to read what I’ve been reading every day.’’ &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*&lt;/strong&gt;Sources: AP and Pantagraph.com.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...If I HAD to read what I'VE BEEN reading?!?&lt;/em&gt; Isn't that sort of redundant? Isn't that sort of redundant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Wait a minute. You mean she can &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;read&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116864393010760216?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116864393010760216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116864393010760216&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116864393010760216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116864393010760216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/brittney-speaks-run-for-cover.html' title='Brittney SpeaKs. Run for cover!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116856296139913967</id><published>2007-01-11T19:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T19:51:12.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucky? Maybe. Intelligent? NOT!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Upon returning to work today from an unplanned "vacation," I was assured stupidity had not taken a hiatus.&lt;br /&gt;I was making a delivery to a small store, and overheard this dialogue between a customer and the clerk...&lt;br /&gt;CUST: Yes, I'd like a $5 (Instant lottery) scratch-off.&lt;br /&gt;CLERK: OK. Anything else today?&lt;br /&gt;CUST: &lt;em&gt;(long, pregnant pause) &lt;/em&gt;Umm... Yeah, let me also have a $1 scratch-off.&lt;br /&gt;(CLERK gives tickets to CUST, and silently waits for payment)&lt;br /&gt;CUST: &lt;strong&gt;Now, how much is that going to come to?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(CLERK, baffled, doesn't say anything, assuming CUST would figure out such simple math.)&lt;br /&gt;CUST: &lt;em&gt;(firmly reiterating) &lt;/em&gt;How much does that come to???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 + 1??? Wow. I'm hoping this lady doesn't win any substantial amount of money. She wouldn't be able to properly account for it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116856296139913967?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116856296139913967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116856296139913967&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116856296139913967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116856296139913967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/lucky-maybe-intelligent-not.html' title='Lucky? Maybe. Intelligent? NOT!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116796915226781817</id><published>2007-01-04T22:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T22:52:32.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd today: WANTED: brain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Due to a massive invasion of toxic mold, my family and I are being forcefully removed from our apartment this weekend; to wit, this will be the last posting on PSST for a week or so, until we are re-established in a new dwelling. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon discovering that our entire upstairs back wall (including the master bedroom and bathroom) has rapidly been converted into a Petri dish in the matter of a few short days, my wife called the housing manager to explain our situation. "Doris" hypothesized that we'd be forced to relocate and our home would be declared uninhabitable, pending an examination by HUD. An hour later, Doris's theory was confirmed. The inspector deduced (based upon the amount of moisture and the lightning-quick advance of the mold) that a major structural issue existed, just as my wife and I believed. However, Doris was skeptical.&lt;br /&gt;"All that mold is because of your dryer vent. You need to clean out the vent hose."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAY WHAT??? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, that's right. When these apartments were built, they didn't have dryer vents. So that's where all the moisture is coming from."&lt;br /&gt;OK, then, Ms. Maytag Retard Woman, you want to explain to me why the vent is downstairs, and all the mold and condensation is originating at the ceiling of the second floor???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do us a favor. Why don't you go see the Wizard of Oz to see if he has any diplomas left over?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116796915226781817?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116796915226781817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116796915226781817&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116796915226781817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116796915226781817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/2nd-today-wanted-brain.html' title='2nd today: WANTED: brain'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116796832024874593</id><published>2007-01-04T22:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T22:38:40.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do I LOOK omnipresent?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Last week, my family headed out to the grocery store. Near the end of our jaunt around the store, my wife needed to go to the little girl's room. The bathrooms are right at the front of the store, so I waited outside with the kids while "Mrs. I" answered nature's call.&lt;br /&gt;As we loitered, a teenage girl came up to us (the kids and I), pointed at the bathroom door, and asked, &lt;strong&gt;"Excuse me. Are you guys in there?" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ummmm... I'm not sure. Let me go check!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116796832024874593?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116796832024874593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116796832024874593&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116796832024874593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116796832024874593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/do-i-look-omnipresent.html' title='Do I LOOK omnipresent?'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116778179279723470</id><published>2007-01-02T18:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T18:49:52.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More parents who shouldn't be</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Our local area's TV stations always report on the first baby born in Northeastern PA each new year. This year, the "honor" belongs to a tiny little girl born to a 14-year-old mother. The news crew went to the maternity ward of the hospital to get a reaction from the new mom. Holding the precious addition to the world, she informed the reporter she had been due 12/30, but the blessed event occurred on New Year's day at 3:00 in the morning. What was her reaction to how things had turned out?&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Well, I wanted to be on TV, and here I am!&lt;/strong&gt; [Giggle, giggle!]"&lt;br /&gt;Great. &lt;em&gt;That's &lt;/em&gt;what you think about your responsibility?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only teen girls would get the idea out of their head: BABIES ARE NOT TOYS!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116778179279723470?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116778179279723470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116778179279723470&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116778179279723470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116778179279723470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/more-parents-who-shouldnt-be.html' title='More parents who shouldn&apos;t be'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116766147815077276</id><published>2007-01-01T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T09:24:38.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Autism awareness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Note: Today's post is not in the least bit funny or peculiar. It's placed on the pages of blogdom to raise further awareness for the need of more education and action when it comes to raising autistic children. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;As a person who has Asperger's Syndrome, a variation of high-functioning autism, I was shaken to the core of my being when I read the following story on AOL News, courtesy of the AP. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Toddler Found Playing Along Interstate &lt;/strong&gt;(AP)&lt;br /&gt;INDIANAPOLIS (Dec. 31) - Drivers swerved cars and trucks into other lanes to avoid a 3-year-old boy, wearing only a diaper and T-shirt, who was playing along a busy highway after wandering away from home while his mother slept, police said.&lt;br /&gt;Some motorists stopped along Interstate 465 on the city's west side Saturday to take care of the boy until officers arrived, the Indiana State Police said. Damon Dyer, a 3-year-old autistic boy, was found playing on [the]Interstate...&lt;br /&gt;"I looked up and I seen this little ... boy running down the middle of the slow lane in the interstate. I just could not believe what I was seeing," said Troy Crady, one of those who stopped to help. The boy... was unscathed as at least a half-dozen cars and a tractor-trailer rig swerved into other lanes to avoid him. Temperatures were in the mid 50s as the boy ran around barefooted.&lt;br /&gt;Police said they traced the toddler to an apartment at a nearby complex, where they found his mother, Nancy Dyer asleep in a filthy apartment and his 2-year-old sister eating spaghetti off the floor. Dyer, 33, was arrested on two counts of child neglect and remained in custody Sunday, officials said.&lt;br /&gt;Senior State Trooper Cedric Merritt said that when Dyer was told of her son's activities, &lt;strong&gt;she responded: "Oh, he got out again."&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;(Really??? You noticed? NO KIDDING!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Investigators said the boy got out his second-story apartment, went down stairs and got around a fence to reach the highway about 200 yards away. Child Protective Services took the boy and his sister into custody, and investigators said the agency also had been called to the apartment Thursday because the boy was outside unsupervised. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Clearly, some people just aren't fit to be parents in the first place, regardless of the child's condition. But obviously, little Damon's condition was previously diagnosed, and as such, Nancy &lt;em&gt;should &lt;/em&gt;have taken additional steps to ensure the safety and well-being of her child. You can't NOT child-proof your home or fall asleep when you have an autistic individual in your care!&lt;br /&gt;Autism is a condition which affects thousands, perhaps even millions, of people in the US. While some cases are more severe than others, autistic folks cannot operate on the same level as those who are not. Being autistic is like being enclosed in a dark closet, knowing there is a world outside, but not knowing how to open the door. As such, even when moving about in the wide-open world, autistics are not able to discern those surroundings properly. They require extra care and attention, something Ms. Dyer was evidently unwilling to give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For more on finding out about autism, what's being done to combat it and what you can do, please go to &lt;a href="http://www.cureautismnow.org"&gt;www.cureautismnow.org&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116766147815077276?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116766147815077276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116766147815077276&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116766147815077276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116766147815077276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2007/01/autism-awareness.html' title='Autism awareness'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116759550681125459</id><published>2006-12-31T14:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-31T15:05:06.833-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Instructions for the intelligence impaired</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I had given a decorative covered candle to my wife for Christmas. (It was a small, old-fashioned church with a removable roof, revealing the candle inside.) It turned out to be a sort-of gift to myself, however, as I received a series of laughs upon reading the instructions on the box. I know companies have to cover themselves legally, but do they truly believe all consumers are idiots? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Candle will become hot during use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are you SURE about that? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never extinguish flame with water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh. Well, can I use my fire extinguisher instead? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never drop burned matches &lt;strong&gt;or other objects&lt;/strong&gt; into candle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey honey, have you seen the nail clippers? Oh, never mind, here they are in the candle. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never burn candle with lid on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;After all, the flame doesn't require oxygen to burn, right? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never burn candle near combustible materials or in an enclosed area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You mean, like in my HOUSE? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I tell you, if people have attempted any of these things, or doesn't understand the concepts before lighting up the candle, perhaps the wick &lt;strong&gt;doesn't &lt;/strong&gt;burn at both ends, if you know what I mean. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116759550681125459?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116759550681125459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116759550681125459&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116759550681125459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116759550681125459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/instructions-for-intelligence-impaired.html' title='Instructions for the intelligence impaired'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116734303391428099</id><published>2006-12-28T16:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T16:57:13.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An extremely odd way to grieve</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Originally, I wasn't going to post anything today, but this article I found on AOL News is just too strange. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Utah Woman Dies Hours After Her Wedding&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SALT LAKE CITY (Dec. 27) -- A 25-year-old woman who occasionally visited Utah schools to discourage children from using drugs died hours after her wedding, her husband said. Jennifer Ann Bennett Goodall and Doug Goodall were married Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Christmas eve, "she didn't wake up," Goodall told KSL-TV. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm so grateful that she left on the happiest day of her life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;An autopsy was performed, but the cause of death was not immediately determined, Goodall said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Perhaps it's because of the days in which we live in, but I'm &lt;em&gt;awfully&lt;/em&gt; suspicious of Mr. Goodall here. Something doesn't add up. I mean, your WIFE just died, and you conjure up a statement like that?! Also, what's with him attempting to release information about the autopsy? Isn't that the coroner's job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously hope and pray this is nothing more than my paranoia, and that there's no foul play involved here. ...But my nagging instinct says otherwise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116734303391428099?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116734303391428099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116734303391428099&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116734303391428099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116734303391428099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/extremely-odd-way-to-grieve.html' title='An extremely odd way to grieve'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116725549774944170</id><published>2006-12-27T16:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-27T16:38:17.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dial "O" for "oops"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;For quite some time, someone has been using our phone number in order to conduct fraudulent activity. It cost money and is a bit of a hassle to change our number, so we just inform anyone looking for "Joe and Carla" that they were given our number in error.&lt;br /&gt;The other day, the phone rang. As always, my wife checked the caller ID to see who was calling. It was someone from out-of-state who had dialed us a number of times. My wife, wanting to tell these people to take our number off their list, picked up the phone and clearly said, "[Incredulous] residence. May I help you?"&lt;br /&gt;The party on the other end hesitated, then offered, "Oh, I'm sorry. &lt;strong&gt;I didn't realize this was a business&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She &lt;em&gt;did &lt;/em&gt;say "residence!" Maybe the caller thought we were a residence who would accommodate the woman from yesterday's post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116725549774944170?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116725549774944170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116725549774944170&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116725549774944170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116725549774944170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/dial-o-for-oops.html' title='Dial &quot;O&quot; for &quot;oops&quot;'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116717712173505624</id><published>2006-12-26T18:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T18:52:01.803-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru service???</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The following story is either incredibly hilarious, or incredibly sad. It depends on your point of view.&lt;br /&gt;As I sojourned along my work route today, I was approached in the parking lot of an area gas station as I unloaded product off my truck. A seventy-something man approached me and asked, "Excuse me, young man. Is there a nursing home up that way?" pointing to his right.&lt;br /&gt;Rather stunned by this unusual inquiry, I stuttered, "Um, ah, sorry, no, I don't think so..." Then recovering a bit, I prodded, "Do you know the name of the place?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, no," the man shrugged. "No name. Just &lt;em&gt;any &lt;/em&gt;nursing home."&lt;br /&gt;Taken farther aback by this even more unusual statement, I dismissed him with, "I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I can't help you out."&lt;br /&gt;The man waddled away.&lt;br /&gt;Completely dumbfounded, and my curiosity now aroused, I skulked around the side of my truck to see where he had gone. I thought maybe he was heading into the station to ask the odd question inside. Instead, I saw him walk to his car, but to the passenger side. He opened the door, and I noticed an elderly, hunched over woman in the seat. The man sang in a condescending tone, "Sorry, honey! There's no nursing home down here! We'll have to go somewhere else!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAY WHAT??? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What in the name of Dr. Kevorkian are you looking for, a golden palace with a sign out front reading, "Walk-ins welcome"???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all this on the day after Christmas...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116717712173505624?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116717712173505624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116717712173505624&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116717712173505624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116717712173505624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/drive-thru-service.html' title='Drive-thru service???'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116697524920064900</id><published>2006-12-24T10:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-24T10:47:29.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Politically incorrect holiday greetings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;This past week, my buddy Pat was completing a delivery to an area business. In closing, the store proprietor offered, "Have a happy holiday!" ...A reflective pause... "...Unless you're Jewish!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to wish all my readers, new and old, a Happy Kwanukas! Happy New Year, too-- unless you're Chinese! ...Or Jewish! ...Or Russian!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aw, heck with it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116697524920064900?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116697524920064900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116697524920064900&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116697524920064900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116697524920064900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/politically-incorrect-holiday.html' title='Politically incorrect holiday greetings'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116690930335639910</id><published>2006-12-23T16:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-23T16:28:23.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lap song and dance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;My family and I have the opportunity to go to a neighborhood city park and see a wonderful light display. The way the city Parks and Recreation department have it set up is that you can view the whole thing from the comfort of your car as you travel along a path circling around the grounds.&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the trail, there's a refreshment stand, and a small trailer with Santa inside. Hoping to raise a little bit of extra cash, the Parks folks decided to sell photo ops with Santa. A small sign was posted on the side of the trailer: "&lt;strong&gt;Pictures with Santa-- $8.00 per framed portrait. You take photo: $3.00.&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, just hold your red-nosed reindeer a second, Nick. You're going to &lt;em&gt;charge&lt;/em&gt; me for taking &lt;em&gt;my own&lt;/em&gt; photo, with my own camera, of my child on your knee? I guess the whole concept is that if professional sports figures can charge for an autograph, Kris Kringle can get some bling bling, too. It's just the whole idea of a benevolent, giving figurehead becoming a cash cow is a little too much to swallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ending pre-Christmas postings with a lighter note next!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116690930335639910?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116690930335639910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116690930335639910&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116690930335639910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116690930335639910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/lap-song-and-dance.html' title='Lap song and dance'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116682537976612257</id><published>2006-12-22T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T17:14:03.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignorance: the gift that keeps on giving</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;I arrived at a local pharmacy today to make a delivery. After stacking up my hand-truck with a heavy amount of product, I headed across the parking lot to the front door. I noticed a hunched-over, elderly lady struggling along her way to the same door with a walker, maneuvering herself along with great difficulty. Though my cart weighed a ton, I decided it was more important to get to the entrance, set down my stuff and hold the door open for her.&lt;br /&gt;...Which I did, grabbing the outside door. A woman exiting the store also saw the woman coming, and held the inside door ajar. As the aged lady slowly lurched past me, she offered me a shy but kind smile. I, in return, wished her "Happy holidays." She stiffly ventured into the vestibule to the inner door. As she did so, the woman holding the door gawked, and then loudly blurted out, "OHH! I PRAY TO GOD I DON'T GET LIKE HER WHEN I'M THAT AGE!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yo, girl! She ain't &lt;em&gt;deaf&lt;/em&gt;, too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have yourself an ignorant holiday, ma'am, and I hope Santa brings you another foot, because yours is permanently lodged in that gaping hole in your face! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;PSST is making another appearance on &lt;a href="http://uselessmen.blogspot.com"&gt;Useless Advice From Useless Men&lt;/a&gt;! Look for question #440 in the next couple of days, signed by me using the moniker "X/Y Chromosome." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116682537976612257?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116682537976612257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116682537976612257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116682537976612257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116682537976612257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/ignorance-gift-that-keeps-on-giving.html' title='Ignorance: the gift that keeps on giving'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116674756852192868</id><published>2006-12-21T19:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T19:32:48.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Have yourself a dysfunctional Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Another edition of "We Asked, You Answered" from the &lt;em&gt;Weekender, &lt;/em&gt;Northeast PA's arts and entertainment weekly, is sure to set us all in the holiday mood.&lt;br /&gt;This week's question: "What Christmas character would you like to be?" Some answers were Snow Miser, Mrs. Claus and Buddy the Elf. Along comes Ryan Farrel to paint a much-too-graphic picture of his own twisted life!&lt;br /&gt;"Hermie (from Rudolph) because he wanted to be a dentist and my mom's a dentist."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, so you're saying you want to be &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;your mom??? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(Pat, stop laughing!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is an Oedipus complex!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116674756852192868?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116674756852192868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116674756852192868&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116674756852192868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116674756852192868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/have-yourself-dysfunctional-christmas.html' title='Have yourself a dysfunctional Christmas'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116666768227661248</id><published>2006-12-20T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T21:21:22.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mostly coudy with a chance of stupidity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;After a long hiatus, WNEP-16's chief meteorologist Tom Clark makes a grand re-entry on the pages on PSST.&lt;br /&gt;This evening, Tommy began his segment talking about a most unusual occurrence. "The space shuttle will be visible very low in the Northwestern sky tonight. As the shuttle re-enters the atmosphere, a long streak-- kind of like a slow-moving shooting star-- will be able to be seen, just about 25 degrees above the horizon. It'll only appear for about 25 or 30 seconds, and this will take place about 3 minutes from now. ...Now, don't go outside! &lt;strong&gt;I want you to see the weather...&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;WHAT??? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Then why'd you even bring it up in the first place? Are you truly that egotistical, Clarkie, to think that your viewers would turn up their noses at the opportunity to see something they may never see again, just so we can veg on our couches listening to you say it'll be partly cloudy and 40 tomorrow? (I knew that yesterday!!) And why in the name of Buzz Aldron do you need to take up 3 + minutes of air-time to cover the weather???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like somebody has moon rocks in their head...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116666768227661248?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116666768227661248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116666768227661248&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116666768227661248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116666768227661248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/mostly-coudy-with-chance-of-stupidity.html' title='Mostly coudy with a chance of stupidity'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116657463487662305</id><published>2006-12-19T19:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T19:30:34.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Your neighborhood inconvenience store</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;...More two-parters!&lt;br /&gt;I visited 2 different convenient stores today, both owned by the same corporation, and experienced an oddity in both. At the first location, I got my order verified by the same manager who had checked me in every week for the last 7 months. After that, it's the responsibility of the vendor (aka &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;) to price the products. The check-in completed, the manager stared at me blankly, and asked, "Do you know how to use a price gun?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who the stink do you think has been pricing this stuff the last 1/2 year? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At stop #2, they had holiday hours posted on the front door. The sign read, "Christmas day: Open: 8:00 AM; Closed: Open 24 hours."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well, not if you're not opening until 8:00! ...Oh... You meant 24 hours, but just not consecutively?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116657463487662305?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116657463487662305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116657463487662305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116657463487662305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116657463487662305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/your-neighborhood-inconvenience-store.html' title='Your neighborhood inconvenience store'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116649378194070159</id><published>2006-12-18T20:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T21:03:02.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A dumb vignette in 2 short acts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The scene: a local convenience store.&lt;br /&gt;Cast of characters: &lt;strong&gt;Me,&lt;/strong&gt; making a delivery covering for another driver, Kevin, who was on vacation. &lt;strong&gt;Mini-mart Nazi&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;manager of said convenience store. Short-tempered, impatient, and belittling, not thinking anyone is capable of doing anything right&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ACT I &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Delivery driver enters the scene, with about 1/2 of the delivery total&lt;/em&gt;. Hi, how are you doing? ...This is just the first load. I have about 10 more cases to bring in. Do you want me to leave these here while I get the rest?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nazi gets indignant. &lt;/em&gt;Oh, NO!!! You can't leave those there! &lt;strong&gt;We're extremely busy right now!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Driver, having put up with nonsense from Nazi before, takes an exaggerated, animated glance around the store to surmise how busy they are by counting customers.&lt;br /&gt;...ONE...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ACT II &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;After shaking off the first wave of stupidity, driver gets ready to take the cases into the cooler. The long-anticipated question is finally voiced by Nazi. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's Kevin? Did he take the day off?&lt;br /&gt;...Actually, he took the whole week off for vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In an incredulous, stunned shriek loud enough to scare away her one customer: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A We-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ek?!? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It appears our store manager is A) easily overwhelmed, and B) unable to grasp the concept of vacation time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116649378194070159?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116649378194070159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116649378194070159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116649378194070159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116649378194070159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/dumb-vignette-in-2-short-acts.html' title='A dumb vignette in 2 short acts'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116638102657380696</id><published>2006-12-17T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T13:43:46.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More nonsense from the Shawna Files</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Here's another wonderful offering from our village idiot, Shawna. You've seen her before on this blog in August of 2005 ("NJ is a lot closer to Philadelphia than PA is") and 8/22 of this year. ("Major in computers. Mathematics will be obsolete in 10 years anyway.")&lt;br /&gt;Once, my buddy Pat and some others were talking about time in the break room of our telecommunications office. The question was brought up, "What kind of system did people use to mark years before 'AD'?" Shawna had walked into the room, and, as always, she had an (incorrect) insight into anything and everything.&lt;br /&gt;"Same as now," she quipped. "&lt;strong&gt;They just counted backwards&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From&lt;em&gt; what? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Tell me, Shawna. How on earth did Hammurabi (king of ancient Babylon) know that Jesus was going to be born in another 1800 years? Hmm...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116638102657380696?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116638102657380696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116638102657380696&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116638102657380696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116638102657380696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/more-nonsense-from-shawna-files.html' title='More nonsense from the Shawna Files'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116630065722552418</id><published>2006-12-16T14:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T15:24:17.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Going nowhere fast</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333300;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;My wife just got a note from a member of her high school class. Seems the class of 1987 (Oops! Carbon-dating in progress...) wants to do something completely and utterly unique for a 20-year reunion in 2007. Now, you must understand that this was a rural high school and many members of this school are quite... backwards, shall we say, in their thinking. I can't imagine somebody actually thinks this is a good idea, and that 75 people-- the size of that year's class-- are able to do this time-wise and/or financially.&lt;br /&gt;Here's excerpts of the letter: (bold letters added for blogging emphasis.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;As you all know planning any kind of event for a group of people is a lot of work. With only 9 months to go its time to &lt;strong&gt;start&lt;/strong&gt; the planning process...&lt;br /&gt;20 YEARS LATER... (Our school's) class of '87 aboard NCL's &lt;em&gt;Norwegian Spirit &lt;/em&gt;October 6-7, 2007. &lt;strong&gt;Cruise&lt;/strong&gt; with your classmates for an unforgettable 1-night &lt;strong&gt;voyage to nowhere&lt;/strong&gt; from NYC!!!&lt;br /&gt;...Inside cabin: $159, &lt;strong&gt;Ocean&lt;/strong&gt;view cabin: $179, Balcony cabin: $229.&lt;br /&gt;...Rates do not include taxes and... fees of $59.04 per person...&lt;br /&gt;Final payment is due on 7/23/07. &lt;strong&gt;We only have&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;a limited number of cabins on hold&lt;/strong&gt;. Visit &lt;a href="http://www.ncl.com"&gt;www.ncl.com&lt;/a&gt; to check out the ship and &lt;strong&gt;it's &lt;/strong&gt;many amenities. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;OK, hold on just a momentary moment.&lt;br /&gt;First, a voyage to nowhere?? Well, if you're not going anywhere, why should you pay an extra $20 for an ocean-view cabin, especially when you'll never see the ocean? Why on earth would I just want to float around in the harbor?&lt;br /&gt;Second, the costs listed above include room cost ONLY. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;are responsible for paying for your transportation to NY, food and drinks. Who has the money to do this in today's economy? And even if you are financially blessed, do you really want to spend that money on a "voyage" to nowhere with a bunch of people you haven't seen in years?&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, let's just say for the sake of argument that everybody in the class wants to go and commits. That requires 75 cabins. Last time I checked, cruise ships have a LOT more than 75 rooms. What kind of freaky groups are you sharing this boat with? Could you imagine walking into a ballroom, thinking it's your old chums, and you walk into an Amway convention? Or a seance? Or the class of '67 from Podunk High School in Backwoods, NV?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the class member who sent this: you may be cruising to nowhere, but this letter/flier DOES have a destination-- my circular file.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116630065722552418?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116630065722552418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116630065722552418&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116630065722552418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116630065722552418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/going-nowhere-fast.html' title='Going nowhere fast'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116624001050193566</id><published>2006-12-15T21:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T22:33:38.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The "X-pirt" ways in</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Today's ex-TREMELY tragic tale comes from where else? Hollywood!&lt;br /&gt;New best gal pals Paris "Still a tramp after all these years" Hilton and Britney "If I only had a brain" Spears are clubbin'! Ain't that just ducky!? What just blows my (by contrast) functional mind is the comments emanating from the mouth of Little Miss Simple Life. Thanks to TMZ.com for poisoning our intellect with these audible clouds of purple haze. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Paris Hilton has taken to MySpace to come out in support of what she calls Brit's "partying ethics." "For people to call out her parenting skills on behalf of her partying ethics is appalling," says Paris (according to &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16042702/" target="_blank"&gt;MSNBC&lt;/a&gt;). "She goes home every night to her babies and partying has not come in the way of her parenting." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;No, not in the least! I mean, there's no way all that boozing could have stood in the way of her judgment. After all, most wonderful mothers drive a car with their child in their lap, right? And anybody could have dropped her infant son on his head in the kitchen, I suppose!&lt;br /&gt;I'm relieved to know Paris is such a great mom. All her expertise will go a long way helping out Brit!&lt;br /&gt;...Wait a sec. What in the name of Roger Clinton is "partying ethics?" You mean there's &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;unethical &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;partying???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;This whole thing reeks of a lack of common sense and a long-overdue trip to the Betty Ford clinic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116624001050193566?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116624001050193566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116624001050193566&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116624001050193566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116624001050193566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/x-pirt-ways-in.html' title='The &quot;X-pirt&quot; ways in'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116605536828922785</id><published>2006-12-13T18:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T19:16:08.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;My apologies to you, faithful readers, for my less-frequent postings as of late. The stupidity well was starting to run dry, and then, for some odd twist of cosmic fate, the past 2 days have seen torrents proportionate to Noah's flood streaming down! The well is &lt;strong&gt;overflowing&lt;/strong&gt; now... We begin with a great E-mail sent to me by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;localmusician &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;which addresses a lot of oddities I've noticed in the past, with many irregularities I wish I never knew about. Well, you'll see what I mean at the end of the letter... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual label instructions on consumer goods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a Sears hairdryer -- Do not use while sleeping. (That's the only time I have to work on my hair!)&lt;br /&gt;On a bag of Fritos -- You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. (the shoplifter special?)&lt;br /&gt;On a bar of Dial soap -- "Directions: Use like regular soap." (And that would be???....)&lt;br /&gt;On some Swanson frozen dinners -- "Serving suggestion: Defrost." (but it's just a suggestion.)&lt;br /&gt;On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert (printed on bottom) -- "Do not turn upside down." (well...duh, a bit late, huh!)&lt;br /&gt;On Marks &amp;amp; Spencer Bread Pudding -- "Product will be hot after heating." (...and you thought????...)&lt;br /&gt;On packaging for a Rowenta iron -- "Do not iron clothes on body." (but wouldn't this save me time?)&lt;br /&gt;On Boot's Children Cough Medicine -- "Do not drive a car or operate machinery after taking this medication." (We could do a lot to reduce the rate of construction accidents if we could just get those 5 year-olds with head-colds off those bulldozers.)&lt;br /&gt;On Nytol Sleep Aid -- "Warning: May cause drowsiness." (...I'm taking this because???....)&lt;br /&gt;On most brands of Christmas lights -- "For indoor or outdoor use only." (as opposed to what?)&lt;br /&gt;On a Japanese food processor -- "Not to be used for the other use." (now, somebody out there, help me on this. I'm a bit curious.)&lt;br /&gt;On Sainsbury's peanuts -- "Warning: contains nuts" (talk about a news flash!)&lt;br /&gt;On an American Airlines packet of nuts--"Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts." (Step 3: say what?)&lt;br /&gt;On a child's Superman costume -- "Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly." (I don't blame the company. I blame the parents for this one.)&lt;br /&gt;On a Swedish Chainsaw -- "Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals." (Oh my God..was there a lot of this happening somewhere?) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Well, at least we didn't segue from the Chainsaw to the Sainsbury's peanuts! For the first time in my life, I'm ashamed to admit I'm of Swedish descent.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Thanks again to &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;localmusician&lt;/span&gt; for this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116605536828922785?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116605536828922785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116605536828922785&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116605536828922785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116605536828922785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/omg.html' title='OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116576833765680076</id><published>2006-12-10T11:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T11:32:17.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Closed captioning for the living impaired</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Last Friday I went into a local bank to make a withdraw. For some strange reason, the institution has a large plasma TV mounted on the wall above the tellers-- apparently to give you something to do while you wait in line. However, there is no sound, so the Closed Captioning is flashed across the screen. As you may know, the CC &lt;em&gt;rarely &lt;/em&gt;matches the actual speech used. It also is often grammatically incorrect.&lt;br /&gt;As I watched, an advert for Aleve pain relief came on. A gal from Jamaica, NY was talking about how difficult arthritis can make her work of volunteering to take meals to the less-fortunate.&lt;br /&gt;"I love taking food to the shut-ins, but I had arthritis in my fingers, in my elbows, in my ees... (I guess that's supposed to &lt;em&gt;be "knees&lt;/em&gt;.")&lt;strong&gt; I took away my life. Then my friend told me about Aleve&lt;/strong&gt;..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. Talk about a miracle recovery from suicide! You take your life away, but you CAN be revived with Aleve! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116576833765680076?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116576833765680076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116576833765680076&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116576833765680076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116576833765680076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/closed-captioning-for-living-impaired.html' title='Closed captioning for the living impaired'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116553575694827100</id><published>2006-12-07T18:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T18:55:56.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marion County School Borg</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Today's post comes courtesy of the Home School Legal Defense Association's website. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;‘Your Home Education Program is Terminated’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;How would you feel if you received an official letter from public school authorities declaring your homeschool “terminated?”&lt;br /&gt;Well recently, about 400 homeschoolers in the Marion County (FL) Public Schools district received a letter that said just that!&lt;br /&gt;Each of these homeschoolers were told that their “Home Education Program is terminated due to your failure to comply with Florida statute 1002.41. You must enroll your child in a public, private, or parochial school within 10 days upon receipt of this letter.”&lt;br /&gt;The statute that Marion County referred to requires that an annual evaluation be filed with the local school district. Many people who had received this letter terminating their home education program had actually already sent their evaluation in! These homeschoolers had done nothing wrong, but they were told that their home education program was terminated-with no warning. They did not receive notice that their evaluation was missing or any hint that there was a problem.&lt;br /&gt;What is even more absurd about the school district officials’ actions is that the law gives them no authority to simply “terminate” a homeschool! Under Florida statutes section 1002.41(2), the superintendent, at the most, can give a family a “one year probationary period.”&lt;br /&gt;Many Home School Legal Defense Association members from Marion County called in after receiving this frightening letter. HSLDA staff worked with each member, and contacted the school district on their behalf. By writing letters and sending in the mail receipts from the previously certified evaluation, we were able to show that Marion County had already received the assessments and that each homeschooler was completely complying with Florida law. The missing assessments were the mistake of the school, not the families. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So let me get this straight. YOU lose important documents, and attempt to penalize innocent and law-abiding families for it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Wow. Last time I checked, this was &lt;em&gt;still &lt;/em&gt;America, not the Gamma Quadrant. The whole "Resistance is futile" approach taken by the Marion County schools goes WAAAAY over the line, and earns them future consideration as &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ignernt Foo' STUPIE&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;nominees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116553575694827100?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116553575694827100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116553575694827100&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116553575694827100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116553575694827100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/marion-county-school-borg.html' title='Marion County School Borg'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116526632955240582</id><published>2006-12-04T15:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T16:07:16.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheque this out!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Today I made a delivery to a convenience store operated by an extremely eccentric gal, whom I've had dealings with many times before. (She kind of looks--and acts--like Kennedy from MTV...) This was a C.O.D. stop, meaning I needed to be paid for the beverages. Kennedy Jr. said, "I don't have enough cash in my drawer, so I'm going to print out a money order for you."&lt;br /&gt;"That's fine," I replied.&lt;br /&gt;In a few moments, I was presented with a money order with the dollar amount inked on it, sans payee information and--most importantly-- signature.&lt;br /&gt;"This needs to be signed," I stated, handing the MO back to her.&lt;br /&gt;She looked at me with a confused glare. "Usually, whoever it's made out to signs it," she offered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Right. So you're saying I'm paying myself? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I'm sorry," I politely affirmed. "The pay&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;er&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is the signature required. Also, it's not made out to anyone."&lt;br /&gt;VJ-wanna-be droned, "Well, &lt;strong&gt;you &lt;/strong&gt;can fill &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; in."&lt;br /&gt;"OK, I guess," I pointed out, "but it still needs your signature."&lt;br /&gt;She just didn't get it. "But why? It's &lt;strong&gt;your &lt;/strong&gt;cheque."&lt;br /&gt;I held my ground. "I'm required to get a signature on all cheques and money orders."&lt;br /&gt;She resigned, "I'm not real comfortable doing this," grabbing the MO. "I never signed one of these before..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;em&gt;Huh??&lt;/em&gt; You've worked here for at least the last 6 months, and you claim to not know how to do a pay-out? No wonder this store's doing so well financially&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116526632955240582?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116526632955240582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116526632955240582&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116526632955240582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116526632955240582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/12/cheque-this-out.html' title='Cheque this out!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116485831527572447</id><published>2006-11-29T22:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T22:58:34.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd today: World-wide stupidity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;The web is wonderful!&lt;br /&gt;PSST has indirectly made headlines in Canada on the site "Useless Advice From Useless Men." I wrote them a letter regarding my little indiscretion from 11/8 ("Oops, I did it again") and they published it, complete with, of course, useless advice.&lt;br /&gt;Click on the link on the right and scroll down to QUESTION # 420: ANDROGYNOUS CONUNDRUM, dated Nov. 27, and enjoy the fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116485831527572447?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116485831527572447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116485831527572447&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116485831527572447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116485831527572447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/2nd-today-world-wide-stupidity.html' title='2nd today: World-wide stupidity'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116485658715870274</id><published>2006-11-29T21:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T22:16:29.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You want fries with that???</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Today, as I unloaded beverages off my truck for a delivery, I had the great privilege of witnessing the following verbal exchange at an Arby's drive-thru order box, just a short distance from where my vehicle was parked. A scruffy, poorly-wardrobed man pulled up in his multi-colored (and multi-textured) 1985 Monte Carlo, complete with major fender rust and a partially-detatched rear bumper. The female employee called out through the talk-box, "Welcome to Arby's. May I please take your order?"&lt;br /&gt;SCRUFF: Yeah, I'd like 2 regular roast beefs, small curly fries and a coke.&lt;br /&gt;BOX: What size would you like?&lt;br /&gt;SCRUFF: A &lt;strong&gt;coke&lt;/strong&gt;, please.&lt;br /&gt;BOX: OK. What size coke?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Interjection: I know sometimes it's hard to understand the muffled voice &lt;/em&gt;on&lt;em&gt; the speaker of these talk-boxes, but I was a good 20 feet away, and could understand the gal perfectly. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCRUFF, leaning out his window, closer to the box: I'd just like a coke, OK?&lt;br /&gt;BOX, growing impatient: Yes, I know that. But what.. &lt;strong&gt;size&lt;/strong&gt;.. drink.. do you want?&lt;br /&gt;SCRUFF, leaning even further out, yelling: OK, fine! A &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pepsi,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; then!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Interjection: Arby's carries the Pepsi line of beverages, but assumably, "coke" meant Pepsi to the gal, who was just trying to determine how thirsty (and deaf) this guy was. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOX, deliberately, but professionally: All I want to know is what &lt;strong&gt;size&lt;/strong&gt; drink you want!&lt;br /&gt;SCRUFF, flipping off the menu board: Oh, just forget it, then!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;...And drove off...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he'll have better luck at the Burger King across the street... I think &lt;em&gt;they&lt;/em&gt; carry Coke!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116485658715870274?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116485658715870274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116485658715870274&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116485658715870274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116485658715870274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/you-want-fries-with-that.html' title='You want fries with that???'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116476294467119787</id><published>2006-11-28T20:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T20:15:44.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ebonic Jesus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;This little piece probably appears on "News of the Weird" as well-- especially since Chuck Shepherd reported this himself-- but I couldn't pass up on the latest version of "Marketing of Jesus." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;New York City Episcopal priest Timothy Holder ("Poppa T"), whose HipHopEMass and "Hip Hop Prayer Book" have turned south Bronx youth into parishioners over the last two years, issued a music CD in November featuring Bible stories in street language. For example, the 23rd Psalm: "The Lord is all that/ I need for nuthin'/ He 'lows me ta chill." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Great. Jess whats weez all be needin', sho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116476294467119787?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116476294467119787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116476294467119787&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116476294467119787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116476294467119787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/ebonic-jesus.html' title='Ebonic Jesus'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116459630131060885</id><published>2006-11-26T21:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T21:58:21.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You're on the air(head)!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Today in the car, I flipped on the radio, just as the local station was announcing the winner of some call-in contest. Usually, the DJ records the call from the lucky contestant and then plays it over the airwaves at the completion of a song. The on-air exchange went as follows:&lt;br /&gt;DJ: "Hello, Magic 93. Who's this?"&lt;br /&gt;Caller (hesitantly): "...This is Lois... &lt;strong&gt;Did I get through?&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well, you're talking to the DJ, aren't you???&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116459630131060885?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116459630131060885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116459630131060885&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116459630131060885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116459630131060885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/youre-on-airhead.html' title='You&apos;re on the air(head)!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116446295792332579</id><published>2006-11-25T08:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T08:56:00.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If I were me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;Today's PSST notoriety belongs to Michael Richards, aka "Kramer" from &lt;em&gt;Seinfeld&lt;/em&gt;, who launched into a tirade full of N-bombs and other assorted obscenities, which was directed at a couple of hecklers interrupting his stand-up act Nov. 17. (To his credit, Mr. Richards has since apologized on national TV and is considering anger management assistance.)&lt;br /&gt;Kenny Kramer, the personified inspiration for the character depicted on Seinfeld, has been deflecting accusations that Michael's rant proves he (Kramer) is racist, or that he thinks Richards himself is racist, ever since the unfortunate event took place. More on the man behind the man can be found at &lt;a href="http://www.kennykramer.com"&gt;www.kennykramer.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;In an interview with the AP, Kramer (the real one) shows that he has maintained a proper perspective on his indirect fame, and offered the following bits of logic and wit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;...[Kramer]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; issued a statement drawing the distinction: "I know the public is smart enough to realize that Michael Richards' personal actions in no way reflect on the character he portrayed on television or me, Kenny Kramer, the real person that the character was based on."&lt;br /&gt;Kramer managed to find a silver lining in the confusion.&lt;br /&gt;"You know what the good news is?" he asked. "Judith Regan is now on a plane to California, trying to sign Michael Richards to a book deal: `&lt;strong&gt;If I Were a Racist, Here's What I Would Have Said.&lt;/strong&gt;'" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;(A cute take-off of OJ's failed book.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116446295792332579?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116446295792332579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116446295792332579&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116446295792332579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116446295792332579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/if-i-were-me.html' title='If I were me'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116429672344280070</id><published>2006-11-23T10:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-23T10:45:23.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Roker's a turkey</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;The yearly NBC production of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade wouldn't be complete without Al Roker embarrassing himself on national TV.&lt;br /&gt;Doing a little feature on the network's hit show "Heroes" (Which I HIGHLY recommend, BTW) with some of the cast members, Roker tried to connect with the show's fans; and failed &lt;em&gt;miserably&lt;/em&gt;, when once again, he showed he didn't do his homework beforehand. Trying to quote the show's catch-phrase, Roker blurted, &lt;strong&gt;"Save the world, save the cheerleader!!"&lt;/strong&gt; ...And, to my delight, had his dyslexia corrected in unison by the cast members...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way to go, Al! Thanks for maintaining yet another Thanksgiving tradition! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116429672344280070?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116429672344280070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116429672344280070&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116429672344280070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116429672344280070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/rokers-turkey.html' title='Roker&apos;s a turkey'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116415852087104830</id><published>2006-11-21T19:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T20:22:01.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>People Conceive Stupid Ideas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Saw the following article in the Electric City (Scranton, PA) weekly written by Mike Ashworth and wanted to give him today's space, because he so perfectly captured the essence of Incredulous.... Enjoy... "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Under the Covers&lt;/strong&gt;" by Mike Ashworth&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Little T Can Suck It"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;'Little T Learns to Share' by Terrell Owens with Courtney Parker, illustrations by Todd Harris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This week I've discovered one of the most unbelievable and astounding books I've ever seen. Somehow it had slipped quietly into the children's section of my store undetected until a well-informed customer requested it.&lt;br /&gt;I was instantly held mesmerized when out of the stacks came a small hardcover picture book. A small group of employees gathered around wide-eyed, wondering if it could be for real. It WAS!&lt;br /&gt;This modern classic is called Little T Learns to Share (BenBella Books, Inc. $14.95), and it's by Terrell Owens "with Courtney Parker" and features illustrations by Todd Harris.&lt;br /&gt;Arguably the greediest, most self-centered, egotistical, attention-seeking, poor-sport, bad-mouthing, disruptive, back-stabbing, emotionally troubled, prima-donna player in all of the NFL has co-authored a kids' book on values!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...If you want audacity, here it is! The vanity! The temerity! (I could probably go on with at least another half dozen more 50-cent words here. For your sake, I will just continue on with my rant.)&lt;br /&gt;I mean, this is like How to Be a Good Neighbor by Charlie Manson, Dining with Dahmer by Jeffrey Dahmer, or ex-Congressman Mark Foley's My New Career as a Scoutmaster. Who in their right mind thought, "Yes, well, he's a big name in professional athletics, of course he'll make a great role model; I'll definitely publish his books"? It is not surprising that it is not carried by a large publisher.&lt;br /&gt;After recovering a little from the initial shock, I just couldn't keep myself from opening it up. What was the first thing to greet my eyes? "To my children, may my life serve as an example to you..."&lt;br /&gt;WHAT?! ...Even most of his fans admit, "Yeah, he's an [arrogant butthead], but is an amazingly gifted athlete." What kind of example is this?&lt;br /&gt;This is truly mind-boggling. Yet, even after this I valiantly pushed on. I was also surprised to see that T.O. may actually have had something to do with the writing of the book.&lt;br /&gt;After reading, "I don't think so, Sam - I'm sorry, Tim -I'mma have to turn ya'll down," it is clear that a great pedagogical mind and literary genius was at work here.&lt;br /&gt;If you are curious, the writing doesn't get much better, and even the illustrations are mediocre at best. There's more good news, too. The cover sports a bright red star advertising "First in the T.O.'s Timeouts Series."&lt;br /&gt;Here's my recommended titles for the further books in the T.O.'s Timeouts Series that would also address other topics T.O. knows nothing about:Little T Becomes a Team Player, Little T Holds His Tongue, Little T Shares the Spotlight, Little T Admits He's Wrong, Little T Takes One for the Team, and Little T Minds His Medication.&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I think Little T should shut up and go the hell away, because it will be a cold day there before I read anything written by him to my children! However, I'm certain&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;this will be an instant bestseller in a few certain markets like, oh, Philadelphia and San Francisco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Bravo, Mike! Bravo!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116415852087104830?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116415852087104830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116415852087104830&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116415852087104830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116415852087104830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/people-conceive-stupid-ideas.html' title='People Conceive Stupid Ideas!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116406742393146127</id><published>2006-11-20T18:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T19:03:48.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Surly you jest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Often times while driving from point-to-point on our deliveries, Pat and I will converse via Direct-Connect on our phones. This morning, I arrived at a local convenience store, loaded up my hand-truck and was wheeling it into the building. Pat was concluding a thought on the DC as I entered. The clerk looked at me like I had just passed gas in a closet after eating a million hot dogs. "It's &lt;strong&gt;awfully&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;ignorant&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; of you to be talking on the phone when you come in here!" she &lt;strong&gt;screamed&lt;/strong&gt;. (Literally.) "Why can't you finish your conversation outside?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"And a happy Monday to you, too," &lt;/em&gt;I thought. "What's the problem? We're not checking in the order yet, and &lt;strong&gt;he's &lt;/strong&gt;talking to &lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt;," I noted.&lt;br /&gt;"That's just rude," she snipped. "Where's your sense of etiquette?!"&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, I had inadvertently hit a sore spot with this gal, so I just resigned, "Fine!"&lt;br /&gt;The shift manager then followed me into the back room (as I was taking the goods there and boomed, "You have no business using a phone while you're in here!" (To this moment, I still don't know why this was such a federal issue.)&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I motioned for him to cool his jets, and pushed the talk button to sign off with Pat. "I'm gonna have to go. I'm---"&lt;br /&gt;"WORKING instead of gabbing!" the manager loudly interrupted, leaning over my shoulder into the mic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, sorry. My bad. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;That &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;wasn't at &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;all &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;ignorant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;So, I guess it's fully acceptable to be unprofessional and surly, but God forbid you should use a phone in a public place!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116406742393146127?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116406742393146127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116406742393146127&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116406742393146127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116406742393146127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/surly-you-jest.html' title='Surly you jest'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116388809030861582</id><published>2006-11-18T17:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-18T17:14:50.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oxygen alternative</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;The bug bit Pat, too!!! (If I can own up to mis-identifying someone's gender, I can bust on my friend/work associate, too!)&lt;br /&gt;Long story short, while making deliveries today, Pat got pulled over by Department of Transportation officials. He was cited for a couple of code violations on his truck, including a tire severely under-pressured. Seems he had run over a nail on the road earlier in the morning. He had to wait where he was until a mechanic came to replace the tire and repair the other problems.&lt;br /&gt;When the repairman came with the tire, it too was a bit low on air pressure. Pat called the boss, "Bobby," to let him know. Bobby told Pat to fill it up with air. Meaning to ask if he could go to any air pump, the Freudian slip which escaped Pat's lips was, "&lt;strong&gt;Do I fill that up with &lt;em&gt;regular&lt;/em&gt; air?" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Bobby teased, "I know those nitrogen-filled tires are really big now, but..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116388809030861582?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116388809030861582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116388809030861582&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116388809030861582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116388809030861582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/oxygen-alternative.html' title='Oxygen alternative'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116380526258254943</id><published>2006-11-17T17:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T18:14:22.610-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the media's fault!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;I got a huge laugh when I heard the feedback from a news story run on WNEP-16 Wednesday evening. The transcript follows. It's important to remember that when this aired on TV, graphic images were shown of the dead deer mentioned in the tale... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Two Attacked by Deer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Wednesday, November 15, UDPATED: 5:48 p.m.By Norm Jones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A deer attacked a couple in Clinton County Wednesday morning and put them in the hospital. Troopers said the buck walked up to the back door of the house on Fishing Creek Road near Lamar. When the homeowners tried to shoo it away, the buck attacked both of them.&lt;br /&gt;State police got the frantic phone call around 8 a.m. A large, six-point buck was attacking Frank Rishel right in his backyard. Troopers said when they showed up they heard screaming coming from the house and what they saw completely shocked them. The deer was attacking Linda Yost and her boyfriend, Rishel, lay motionless on the ground. State police said one trooper grabbed its antlers with one hand and shot it with the other. Another trooper then opened fire, killing the deer.&lt;br /&gt;Officials said the buck had walked right up to the house and attacked when Rishel tried to scare it off. Donna and Terry Jierles live nearby and walk there often. The couple brought a hefty piece of wood on their morning walk after hearing of the attack.&lt;br /&gt;"There's just one thing on their (deer) mind. They're just insane. There's just no, no predicting them. Normally you could chase a deer away. When they're in rut, they do their own thing," Terry Jierles said.&lt;br /&gt;The Pennsylvania Game Commission agrees. Biologist Tony Ross said when a buck is in the rut all bets are off. "Anybody that tries to get in the way of that, that deer is going to try and go through them," Ross said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;After viewing the gruesome footage, one watcher expressed his opinion on WNEP-16's "Talkback." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was that really necessary? Is that news? A shot-full-of-holes deer, bulging eyes, pools of blood. Let me tell you what happened in my house! My 13 year old son told my 3 year old daughter there won't be Christmas because the police shot Rudolph! Nice job WNEP. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Ah, yes. The Newsstation has permanently spoiled your holiday, just like the family who had their pumpkins stolen off their porch right before Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Stinking Christmas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116380526258254943?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116380526258254943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116380526258254943&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116380526258254943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116380526258254943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/its-medias-fault.html' title='It&apos;s the media&apos;s fault!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116372399745420162</id><published>2006-11-16T19:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T19:39:57.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>P.C. Earns "Supplemental STUPIE"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;We interrupt this blog to present a special STUPIE in a new, separate category. Borrowing a phrase from ESPN's "Mike and Mike In the Morning" show, this award is called the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Just Shut UP! STUPIE..." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The STUPIE goes most boldly and unabashedly to the US Department of Agriculture's Mark Nord for his "justification" behind eliminating the word "hunger" to categorize those who don't have enough to eat. Yeah, that solves the problem!!!&lt;br /&gt;The following excerpts are taken from the Washington Post... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;U.S. agency changes "hunger" to "very low food security"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By Elizabeth Williamson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WASHINGTON -- The U.S. government has vowed that Americans will never be hungry again. But they may experience "very low food security."&lt;br /&gt;Every year, the Agriculture Department issues a report that measures Americans' access to food, and it has consistently used the word "hunger" in connection with those who can least afford to put food on the table. But not this year.&lt;br /&gt;Mark Nord, the lead author of the report, said "hunger" is "not a scientifically accurate term for the specific phenomenon being measured in the food security survey." Nord, an Agriculture Department sociologist, said, "We don't have a measure of that condition."&lt;br /&gt;The department said that 12 percent of Americans Â 35 million people Â could not put food on the table at least part of last year. Eleven million of them reported going hungry at times. Beginning this year, the Agriculture Department has determined "very low food security" to be a more scientifically palatable description for that group. The United States has set a goal of reducing the proportion of food-insecure households to 6 percent or less by 2010, or half the 1995 level, but it has proved difficult. The number of hungry Americans has risen over the past five years, and last year, the share of food-insecure households stood at 11 percent.&lt;br /&gt;Less vexing has been the effort to fix the way hunger is described. Three years ago, the department asked the Committee on National Statistics of the National Academies "to ensure that the measurement methods USDA uses to assess households' access Â or lack of access Â to adequate food and the language used to describe those conditions are conceptually and operationally sound."&lt;br /&gt;The panel suggested that the Agriculture Department scrap the word "hunger," which "should refer to a potential consequence of food insecurity that, because of prolonged, involuntary lack of food, results in discomfort, illness, weakness, or pain that goes beyond the usual uneasy sensation."&lt;br /&gt;To measure hunger, the department determined, the government would have to ask individual people whether "lack of eating led to these more severe conditions," as opposed to asking who can afford to keep food in the house, Nord said.&lt;br /&gt;It is not likely that Agriculture Department economists will tackle measuring individual hunger. "Hunger is clearly an important issue," Nord said. "But lacking a widespread consensus on what the word 'hunger' should refer to, it's difficult for research to shed meaningful light on it."&lt;br /&gt;Anti-hunger advocates say the new words sugarcoat a national shame. "The proposal to remove the word 'hunger' from our official reports is a huge disservice to the millions of Americans who struggle daily to feed themselves and their families," said David Beckmann, president of Bread for the World, an anti-hunger advocacy group.&lt;br /&gt;"We ... cannot hide the reality of hunger among our citizens." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;So, Mr. Nord, you think you can just ignore the fact that millions of people in the richest nation on earth don't have enough to eat, and that hundreds are dying due to malnourishment each year? What do &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; possibly know about hunger? You're pulling in a 6-figure income every year. Try getting down on the level of the less fortunate who have to scrap each day for every little bit of food, clothing and finances they can get, just to survive until tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;The term "Low-food security" is repulsive at best and callously criminal at worst. Though you're not elected by the public, your boss (the Prez) is. Maybe a different boss will see things more realistically than you, providing you with " Very low job security."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the spirit of Mike and Mike, Mr. Nord, JUST SHUT UP! Enjoy your freaking STUPIE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116372399745420162?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116372399745420162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116372399745420162&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116372399745420162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116372399745420162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/pc-earns-supplemental-stupie.html' title='P.C. Earns &quot;Supplemental STUPIE&quot;'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116355072230835620</id><published>2006-11-14T19:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T19:32:02.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kick 'em while they're down</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;By now, most have heard the sordid story of Rev. Ted Haggard, former leader of the National Association of Evangelicals, and his fall from grace as he got caught up in a drug-use/gay-fling scandal, despite being a harsh opponent (from the pulpit) to homosexuality. To quote Paul Harvey, perhaps you don't yet know &lt;em&gt;The Rest of the Story... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems Mr. Haggard sought to right the wrongs by submitting to a group of his friends and constituents, making himself fully accountable to them. Counseling, prayer and encouragement was to be the MO for this group, which included Christian psychologist, Dr. James Dobson. A little over one year ago, I heard Dr. Dobson call Rev. Haggard "one of his closest friends" on his nationally syndicated radio program, Focus On the Family. Then, the other shoe dropped... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Nov 7, 2006 (AP)Â Citing a lack of time, Focus on the Family founder James Dobson withdrew Tuesday from the team overseeing counseling for the Rev. Ted Haggard, the evangelical pastor who was fired amid allegations of gay sex and drug use.&lt;br /&gt;"Emotionally and spiritually, I wanted to be of help but the reality is&lt;strong&gt; I don't have the time&lt;/strong&gt; to devote to such a critical responsibility," Dobson said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;That's nice. It's comforting to know that such a public figure in the world of Christianity is so dedicated to friendship...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEFINITELY an early nominee for the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ignernt Foo' STUPIE!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116355072230835620?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116355072230835620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116355072230835620&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116355072230835620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116355072230835620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/kick-em-while-theyre-down.html' title='Kick &apos;em while they&apos;re down'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116354904926029801</id><published>2006-11-14T18:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T19:04:09.276-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The customer is always ticked.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I went into a local convenience store today with a delivery. As I brought in the first stack of goods, the manager asked to see the invoice. Several items were out of stock; hence, they were not being delivered. Obviously upset, she grabbed the phone and called my company to complain-- not about me, but about the fact that she needed a lot of product that we weren't able to provide. I listened with vested interest, because frankly, this particular salesman who sells to this store is a waste of vital space on this planet...&lt;br /&gt;The manager registered her complaint by telling the head of sales, "Well, he came in yesterday and said you guys have all this stuff... ...Yes, but I have 9 cases I'm missing today... ...Yes, I've let him know I wasn't happy with his service... ...What he told me was, &lt;strong&gt;'Well, I keep ordering the cases, but they aren't coming in...&lt;/strong&gt;'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, &lt;em&gt;that's &lt;/em&gt;professional. Don't give the customer what they want...&lt;br /&gt;Oh, BTW, each salesman carries a hand-held computer, which, among other things, provides each person with the exact amounts of product in our inventory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Which, apparently, Dumkopf failed to check before making his idle promises.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116354904926029801?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116354904926029801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116354904926029801&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116354904926029801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116354904926029801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/customer-is-always-ticked.html' title='The customer is always ticked.'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116334385962954379</id><published>2006-11-12T09:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T10:04:19.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep deprivation = new math</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I overheard a lady who identified herself as a nurse talking with a store clerk on Friday...&lt;br /&gt;"We worked a double (shift) yesterday, then I had to go over to the ICU to visit Jim. By the time I got home, I had to make the kids' lunches and drive them to school, and now I'm going back to work. Yesterday, I was up for 30 hours..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While mildly funny at first, I got to thinking about this lady's day. I admire her for her strength and fortitude. And, with the often-stressful conditions of her vocation, each day may indeed feel like 30 hours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116334385962954379?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116334385962954379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116334385962954379&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116334385962954379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116334385962954379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/sleep-deprivation-new-math.html' title='Sleep deprivation = new math'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116303863170257965</id><published>2006-11-08T21:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T21:17:11.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops, I did it again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Today I made a delivery to an area convenience store. I brought in all the product, and then notified the staff there that I needed someone to check me in; that is, to verify all the (correct) items were accounted for. A young clerk of very... er, &lt;em&gt;general&lt;/em&gt; appearance, joined me for a walk back to where I had set everything. We ran through the order, and the clerk said, "OK, you're all set to go!"&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you, sir," I mechanically sang...&lt;br /&gt;...And the very moment I had uttered the word "Sir," I thought to myself in that split-second of time, "&lt;em&gt;Uh, oh. I hope that &lt;strong&gt;was &lt;/strong&gt;a 'sir'!" &lt;/em&gt;I turned from my work to catch a second glimpse, and when I did, I noticed the name embroidered on the clerk's work shirt, and my worst fear came true.&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Rebecca&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AAAAARRRRGGHHHHHHH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmmmm... Foot... Tasty...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116303863170257965?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116303863170257965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116303863170257965&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116303863170257965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116303863170257965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/oops-i-did-it-again.html' title='Oops, I did it again!'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116294504243171918</id><published>2006-11-07T19:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T19:17:22.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Those who can't lead... Utter nonsense</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Today is Election Day. In PA, the race for governor pits incumbent Ed Rendell against former NFL star and political rookie Lynn Swann. Several different polls show Swann trailing substantially, but that doesn't phase the former football standout. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I'm counting on people to get to the (polling precincts) to vote to defeat the other candidate. The polls have nothing to do with this... Polls don't matter. The only thing that matters are the voters." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;...And just &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;who &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;do you suppose the pollsters quizzed to formulate those polls? Hmm... Maybe Swann took one bone-jarring hit too many during his previous career.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;*Quote source: WNEP-16's Jon Meyer, reporting from Swann's campaign headquarters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116294504243171918?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116294504243171918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116294504243171918&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116294504243171918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116294504243171918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/those-who-cant-lead-utter-nonsense.html' title='Those who can&apos;t lead... Utter nonsense'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116261099881622976</id><published>2006-11-03T22:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T22:29:58.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Win a Stupie, give an encore performance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Today I returned to the same CVS pharmacy that was manned by the uncaring clerk mentioned in our awards presentation. I found it funny that no sooner had I "recognized" her then she returned to her... Um, lack of tact. As I entered with my delivery, the clerk was cashing out a lady that she evidently knew. As the transaction was being completed, they entered into dialogue. The elderly customer lamented, "Last night, I went to the hospice to see William." Shaking her head sorrowfully, she admitted, "He did &lt;em&gt;not &lt;/em&gt;look good at all..."&lt;br /&gt;Miss Insightful loudly quipped, "Yeah, that's what they're all there for-- TO DIE!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought the pharmacy was supposed to help me feel &lt;strong&gt;better! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose, in this case, CVS stands for "Crass, Vulgar and Sarcastic."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116261099881622976?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116261099881622976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116261099881622976&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116261099881622976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116261099881622976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/win-stupie-give-encore-performance.html' title='Win a Stupie, give an encore performance'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15326606.post-116251471267309379</id><published>2006-11-02T19:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T22:21:33.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stupies IV</title><content type='html'>Thanks for joining us as we recap the best of the worst, via the fourth presentation of the STUPIES! Like we did 100 posts ago, we shall be awarding 3 distinct trophies of distinction to those who have displayed an exorbitant amount of stupidity.&lt;br /&gt;First, the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ignernt Foo' STUPIE, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;honoring the memory of pop-star Michael Jackson, ("They're just a bunch of ignernt foo's...") is given to an individual who utters the most arrogant and heartless, uh, utterance. Though we had 3 nominees, including the "Man of peace" from 9/28 and the mobile home evictor from 7/27, the winner, hands down, was the pharmacy clerk from 9/15!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;Today I went into a local CVS pharmacy, a large, franchised chain of stores. My business (soda delivery) brought me there, but it was an elderly customer which caught my eye and held my attention. She was continually pacing the aisles, looking confused. Finally, she approached the store clerk, and asked, "Excuse me, but where can I find ACE bandages?" Without batting an eye, the clerk shot, "In a hospital?!" ...and walked away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"&gt;Next, we present the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cloud of Idiot Gas STUPIE, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;honoring fellow blogger "Sierra" and the former blog site of the same name. The C.I.G. tags the figure within the public eye who suffers the most acute form of hoofus mouthus. Nominees included Sen. John Kerry ("Education") and Lindsey Wagner ("Getting a good night's sleep"). However, the STUPIE goes to the over-sexed and under-intelligent Brittany Spears!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;Spears has offered some very not-so-profound insights into her pregnancy, motherhood and "getting her body back" in a recent People magazine interview. At eight months pregnant --she says she's due "in a month"-- the 24-year-old singer is about to become a mom for the second time in one year. And no, this pregnancy wasn't planned. "It just kind of happened," says Spears, who insists she and husband Kevin Federline, 28, don't know the baby's gender. &lt;em&gt;( Ah, yes, the Sperminator strikes again!!! "Just kind of happened?" You mean, like the other countless kiddies Kevin's contributed to the world?) &lt;/em&gt;With her upbeat outlook-- childbirth "will be a piece of cake," she says cheerfully of her scheduled C-section, the same as her first-- this is a more relaxed, less visibly stressed Brittney than the one who broke down in tears during a June interview with Matt Lauer. Of the media scrutiny following that appearance, she says, "They've said some hurtful things, but you just try to ignore it and keep moving on&lt;em&gt;."(That's right, keep moving on by ignoring parenting skills and continually placing your career ahead of your family, dragging around your tired tikes like a wooden duck on a pull-string!)&lt;/em&gt; Now in the home stretch, she is relying on support from her husband &lt;em&gt;(Pshaw! Good luck with that!) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"&gt;Finally, we have come to the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Incredulous Choice STUPIE, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;granted to the person of my own choice who best exemplifies a complete departure from the world of common sense and coherence. Betting her age is higher than her SAT score, the winner is the gal in the sandwich shop!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;As I made a delivery to a small hoagie shop, I took notice of the owner, who was behind the counter, looking exasperated. Meanwhile, a middle-aged woman longingly studied the menu board. I got the idea that these two had been in the same position for quite some time. After a long pregnant pause, accompanied by much eye-rolling of the shopkeeper, the woman hemmed and hawed a bit, then vacantly quizzed, "OK, 'ham and cheese.' Now, what do you mean by that? I mean, what is it made up of?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;And so we come to the end of another STUPIES low-light reel. Keep on coming back for more regular fits of the insane and inane, and join us again in another 100 posts for the quinticentennial edition of the STUPIES!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15326606-116251471267309379?l=twasthen1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/feeds/116251471267309379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15326606&amp;postID=116251471267309379&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116251471267309379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15326606/posts/default/116251471267309379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://twasthen1.blogspot.com/2006/11/stupies-iv.html' title='The Stupies IV'/><author><name>Mr. Incredulous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09430193988675164251</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
