Blunt Wit

Looking over my recent Blog postings a clear pattern of silliness and disdain for facts emerges. I feel myself being made fun of, mocked for my inane ramblings and pigeon-holed as a one dimensional ‘humorist Blogger’ by the serious Blog community.

So I’ve decide to change all of that here today and show everyone once and for all that I have ‘Blogging range’ and can write about serious, technical subjects that matter as well. I too can incite real passions and make cutting edge revelations that educate and enlighten. I too can expose corruption at the highest level and right the wrongs of society!

What I’m about to write is highly sensitive and confidential and could damage national security if it got into the wrong hands so please keep it to yourself.

I have recently become an anonymous test subject in a top secret government experiment. I decided to release my own test results here because it is becoming increasing apparent the government just plans to cover up the entire project like McCain’s womanizing past.

It all began in Peter Pan’s office. (He’s my dentist and I think he’s originally from Hong Kong.) I’m not kidding, that’s really his name. Apparently Walt X, one of his patients who will remain incognito because I think in real life he’s a porn star, left a copy of the test procedures on the waiting room table and thank god I, as opposed any other riff raff who might have come along, found it. Truth be told, I don’t even know this Walt X character but he must not be overly trustworthy if he let such an important document fall out of his possession.

This document was fascinating. It outlined a specific test procedure and hinted at an amazing discovery. We’ve been taught since high school biology that we each have 23 chromosomes. For some of us the 23rd happens to be XX, others XY and still others, say if you’re in the porn industry like Walt, for example, XXX. But what if I told you that in some people there was actually a mysterious 24th chromosome! Yes, they’ve identified this illusive chromosome as the ‘H chromosome’.

I have become obsessed with this ‘H chromosome’. I have done extensive research on the topic. What I uncovered is highly disturbing. Obscure scientists writing in an obscure journal (I’m sorry I’ve forgotten the title as it was some long unpronounceable technical jargon) stated that this mysterious chromosome is found in certain individuals while lacking in others.

Returning to the paper, it also outlined previous recent experiments on a range of test subjects that positively confirmed the existence of the ‘H chromosome’. While it is particularly prevalent in fishermen, there is also high incidence rate reported in pubescent girls, zealous lab rats and CEO’s.
The paper also outlined very explicit and confidential testing procedure. It gave the address of a local testing site, “The Sports Page” in Mountain View. I went there and gave the secret password, “Give me a test tube baby.” Thereupon I was served a creamy, viscous test elixir. And don’t you worry there were no real test tube babies harmed in the process that I know of. I would not recommend this test for the faint of heart. The foul magma burned as it went down.

Following the procedure further, I repeated the process several times and recorded the following results.
(X) Test subject begins to feel dizzy
(X) Test subject speech slurs
(X) Test subject tries to kiss neighbor’s wife (or husband)
(X) Test subject exaggerates the size of various body parts
(X) Test subject dances on the table
( ) Test subject arrested

I did not check the final box as to my knowledge I was not arrested but things did get a little fuzzy towards the end of the experiment and I woke up at home the next day with a terrible headache.
According to the results I tested positive for the ‘H Chromosome.’ This has me worried. But so far scientists are unsure as to the extent of any negative symptoms resulting from the ‘H Chromosome.’ There is common consensus, however, that there is very little upside to being afflicted with it.

This is big folks. I think the government is wrong to put a lid on this. People with this chromosome have a right to know. Any and all comments to this Blog will form the basis of a petition to the government. Your support to get this heinous cover up out in the open would be greatly appreciated!

For you cybersleuths reading this, what does the ‘H’ in the “H Chromosome” stand for?

Reacting quickly to the news that Bob Barr, once firebrand Georgian Republican, is running for President as the Libertarian candidate, the GOP has taken drastic measures and contracted Karl Rove to put together an exploratory committee for a Barak Obama run for President. The GOP brain trust has begun to worry that the Barr candidacy will split the vote for John McCain thus possibly costing him the upcoming Presidential election. So under the leadership of Rove, they are working to put Barak Obama on the ticket as the Freedom Party candidate. Note, Barak Obama bears no relation to presumptive Democratic presidential candidate, Barack Obama.

The freedom party is indirectly related to the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth and on paper is a legitimate political party with the right to run a candidate in the upcoming Presidential election. Barak Obama is the new name that actor Ezekiel Frankel, who played the erstwhile Obama on last week’s Saturday Night Live political sketch, has recently adopted legally. Apparently his fiery rhetorical message of hope and change had a powerful effect on political consultant Karl Rove, who incidentally was responsible for the whisper campaign started during the 2000 Presidential primary in South Carolina that Bridget, the young girl that John McCain and his wife Cindy had adopted from Mother Theresa’s orphanage in Bangladesh, was, in fact, an illegitimate African American ‘love-child’ that subsequently derailed the McCain candidacy.

It is widely believed that Rove intends to dupe a gullible United States populace into splitting the vote between the two Obama’s as it has been proven that the average American can’t spell. Unofficial word from the Obama campaign suggests that there may yet be another candidate, Jon McCain, gumming up the field of the upcoming Presidential election.

So they say a Libertarian is a Republican with a bong. Would you consider yourself a donkey, an elephant or a bong?
I’m so not looking forward the shrill negativity that precedes any US Presidential election. Can someone wake me on November 5th. Is there anything redeemable about presidential elections?

According to well placed Republican sources, Sasha and Malia,

the daughters of Democratic presumptive nominee Barack Obama have formed a nascent political group entitled “Swift Kids for Truth.” They are charging that the Presidential hopeful is unfit to serve as President based upon his alleged willful distortion of his conduct as father during their short lives.

Barack Obama has built his entire campaign around his openness to change. He stands tall as the candidate who embraces positive transformation in the grubby, attack-minded politics that pervades Washington. In public he welcomes dissent as healthy expression of personal values. At home, however, he is a virtual tyrant according to his daughters.

He doesn’t allow them to watch TV past 10pm causing serious mental distress. He also refuses to buy them their favorite Jamba Juice smoothies upon request resulting in severe dehydration. Young minds need liquid refreshment to grow strong and agile. His willful disregard for the wellbeing of his own daughters is finally being exposed thus challenging his qualifications as President.

Sasha, as chief spokeskid for SKFT, has stated that Barack Obama’s exaggerated claims about his own service as father has compelled her to step forward. She further elaborated that his criticism of fathers was a “betrayal of trust” with other kids, and that by his activism he had caused direct “harm” to all kids living at home.

Washington insiders seem to discount the activities of SKFT noting that by grounding his daughters indefinitely Barack Obama could effectively curtail the group’s effectiveness.

Sometimes I take small liberties with the truth in my blogs. Poetic license, so to speak, nothing egregious, just some embellishment around the edges. Some fictional imaginings to spice up my otherwise dull life. With this one, however, I’ve added no accouterments. It is the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

So our kitchen table is on her last leg, literally. If she were a horse we’d have taken her out back and shot her. My father, who was visiting a while back and is handy with things like ailing tables, put a second stud screw through the leg to fasten it tight. Thus bolstered, I thought she had a few more years in her but no… she has pulled up lame yet again.

So on this dreary, rainy day we headed to IKEA. Note I typically mispronounce it ‘Ick eee ya’ (as in icky) as opposed to the supposed correct ‘Ay key ya’. I think IKEA is Swedish for ‘you’ve got a meatball stuck in your throat’ or maybe that’s just the sound you make when you do. Anyway, I’m not so fluent in Swedish. Our mission was merely reconnaissance for a new kitchen table. Or so I thought.

First problem hit us before we even reached the parking lot. A huge sign on the side of the road read ‘autos turn to park in 800m’ and ‘over height vehicles 1200m’. So tell me this, when the hell did we start using the metric system in the good ole US of A.

I’m actually quite used to metrics having lived several dog’s lifetimes overseas. But like some foreign language you are required to THINK in metric. You can’t be translating back and forth. I mean who besides Einstein has time to do all of those funky calculations in their head. Especially while driving in the pelting Californian rain.

And I’m in an SUV. Is an SUV classified as an auto or an over height vehicle? Would I have to stop and measure it? Would I need to measure in meters or feet? While thus spazzing-out thank goodness I noticed the mini-van in front of me turning into the auto turnoff so I followed figuring that if his or her top sheared off I’d just come to an abrupt stop and back out.

Once in the store, I immediately got sucked into the IKEA cheap eats café laden with subsidized goodies to get the unsuspecting clod jacked up on meatballs, cheap wine and European coffee for their ensuing consumer frenzy.

Thus slightly inebriated, highly sugared and over caffeinated I sauntered into … the maze. If I’d been smart enough to carry my cinnabun with me, I could have left small crumbs along the path and maybe, possibly have found my way out. As it was, the place twisted and turned in a confusing blur of blind furniture alleys. I’m telling you not even mice chasing overripe cheese would have gotten out of there. Even with the funny arrows on the floor supposedly taking you to some promised land or the cash register, you’re always getting lost. The maps make little sense. I guess they figure if they confuse you enough you’ll buy something, anything just taste sweet freedom.

Needless to say, wandering in this furniture desert, we eventually came across the “perfect kitchen table” like manna from heaven. I was not so gently persuaded to buy it by my spouse. So much for reconnaissance. At least we finally had our ticket to freedom. That, my friends, is the secret. Once you’ve decide to spend your hard earned cash, the road to salvation and the cash register lights up with alacrity. Life is but a maze to be navigated.

Have you ever felt lost in the maze of life? How did you ever find your way out?