I’ve got a ghost in the machine here lately, and I’ve called all the exorcists I know, except Harvey. Some electrical outlets work in the bedroom, and some don’t. Luckily, this one does, and therefore, stupor bowl sunday will go on as scheduled, wardrobe malfunction in all it’s glory…

Lesson’s… back on track. Since I’ve been granted the privalage of legally driving again, I’m much less hesitant to throw 140 pounds of dog meat into Betty’s cab. I think she likes the back scratch. Anyway, tryin’ to herd two 70 pounders into the cab can be a treat. You try to tell them to get there ass back acrossed the road, call ‘em an asshole a time or two, or three, and then think to yourself… hmmmmm… Hope no neighbors heard that. It’s fun. You should try it sometime.

As they jumped into the truck, both of ‘em stepped on the “RedNeck Horn“… that was funny now… Once they are concealed in the cab, the fun doesn’t stop. There’s the age ol’ fight over ridin’ shotgun… Carbon(rookie) won it tonight. Dumb fucker. Jack wandered on back to the back seat and laid down and went to lickin’ his balls. Carbon… he insisted on standing on all fours on the front seat. I told that fool… SIT, SIT, SIT, SIT damni’t, SIT. He stood…

If dog’s had middle fingers, I’d been starin’ at one. In my mind I’m thinkin’, alright asshole, you don’t want to sit… fine. I’ll fix your wagon in a minute… buddy. See, what he didn’t know, is there’s a stop sign at the end of the road, and boxers, well, they front heavy without the tits… I guess I should’ve said, ,they ain’t got no ass. Kinda like one of those ol’ 32 inch picture tube TV’s you had to fit into the entertainment “center”… They don’t take much tippin’ in one direction ‘fore they tip over.

Well… here come the stop sign… I’m grinnin’, still hollerin SIT in the truck at him… he ain’t havin’ anything to do with that, Standing bravely on all four legs… Hard headed dog. Well, the stop sign came, and yes, I was just a tad abrupt with the brakes. I needed to prove a point. His 70 pound hard head face planted into the dash board… and he sat. See, I told you asshole… SIT.

I got to the store, which is why they were with me in the truck, and by the time I come back out, they’d changed places. Jack, was now curled up, in the passenger seat and Carbon, was in the back… sittin’.

I reckon that’s a lesson learned… hard way. The boy’s fixin’ to learn a couple like that. He just don’t think so.

One more good thing about havin’ the dogs in the truck… you can fart in there, and blame it on the dog’s…

I’ve spent the last few hours checkin’ the NFL channel, ’cause, I’d seen everything else on TV what was worth watchin’. Today was media day. Talk about big assed athletes with self control. How, no media member was murdered in a ‘roid rage is beyond me, but it came, and passed. TO is pimpin’ chicken, and the dance. 260k$ for being the first one to “do it”… nevermind he can’t, and Chad Johnson ain’t playin’ in the game. I just saw where Terrel Davis went up with the Blue Angels… he didn’t hurl, but he did pass out. Watchin’ the show, it was somethin’ about a hard left turn to line back up with the carrier. Knocked him right the hell out. Reminded me of an ol’ sleeper hold in wrasslin’ on TV. He was there one second, gone the next. Is that the way it is Lex? Hang a left and take a nap? If it is, I think I’ll watch from below. I’m a big boy, and I can take my own naps…

No front page. Just a “Gone Fishin’” deal in the window. I like it. Many times, I don’t have shit to write, and the times that I do, it ain’t shit then either. Got tired of bein’ tired of cooped up today. Went out to the club. Stayed 15 minutes. Somebody got my counterstrike out of the bush. Damnit. Left the dogs home. I’m tired of bein’ their sole baby sitter.

Got Betty some new treads yesterday. God, the beer I could’ve bought with that tire money. I hope they last better than the last set did. I don’t like the “white lettering” on this set as good as I did the other, but the tread pattern on this set kicks ass. New tires will make an old vehicle feel damned near new, and will also hush up a shit load or cabin rattles. Much better now.

Bought me a car charger for the cell phone today. Had one of those give to me, but burned it up one day on the way to Carolina. Stopped over at Sam’s and said… feel this. He didn’t hold it long. Somehow the innards of the thing burnt up, but my phone survived. I didn’t want to bother work with orderin’ another so I just did without for a good long while, but… my phone sucks up batteries now. Since I got the car charger, I can plug the hag in and tell it to play music. That comes in handy when you antenna has been gone for a couple months and you’re used to listenin’ to the whine of gears and the throat of the motor. I like those sounds, but hell, I need a little Merle, and AJ every now and then.

Oh well… If you’re readin’ this, you’re diggin deep. It ain’t showin’ on the front page, and I didn’t put no links in this post, so there shouldn’t be any “direct comebacks” on it. Somebody had to go to the “archives” for January to see it. Congratulations.

Update: I took the splash page off… so if you’re readin’ it, you’re probably just another citi-slicker…

Pa: Good night John-boy.

John-boy: Good night Pa.

Pa: Good night Ma.

Ma: Roll over asshole, your nutsack is stuck ‘tween my toes. ‘Night asshole.

John-boy (in unison) with Pa: Good night Ma.

A RedNeck’s ending to an evening at the Walton’s. I can’t, to this day, understand why it got rejected… I was gonna make millions with that one now.

See, here’s my point… I’ll get right to it, but the deal is, it can probably be reasonably accomplished sometime in the not too distant future, but there’s always gonna be some mad scientist, wise ass, jackass, such as myself tryin’ to do it, and not quite gettin’ it, and givin’ clonin’ a bad name… Witness my example: I tried to clone The Omnibus today, I took all the same questions, put my own mad scientist RedNeck humor shit eating grin into it. 110%. Compare and contrast… Lookit what happened.

What kind of meat are you?… duh.

You Are Beef

You’re big, burly, and maybe even a little stinky. And no one’s going to come between you and a good steak. And you’ve probably never met a vegetable you like, unless fries and ketchup count.

What Kind of Meat Are You?

Strike one on my clonin’ expertise. I do like vegetables, but I ain’t a vegetarian. Got’s to have me some meat now.

Your Famous Movie Kiss…(Kiss my ass of course)… another duh.

Your Famous Movie Kiss is from Cruel Intentions

“I’m the only girl you can’t have, and it kills you.”

What Famous Movie Kiss Are You?

Eat your heart out V’man… Strike two on the clonin’ deal for me… I see 3 comin’. Hey, at least I’m swingin’ the bat.

What Type of Passionate Woman Are You?…(Well, I ain’t, duh cubed…)

I am so Jessica Simpson in this quiz, it ain’t funny… I think I got pink, ’cause she wore that damned pink shirt with T. Romo’s number on it that got so much press. I ain’t a Cowboy fan and no, I don’t have big man boobs, I got trainin’ bra sized man boobs, but I like football, and beer… you do the math.

Your Passion is Pink!

You’re the type of woman that would never get described as passionate… Oh but you can be passionate at times – you just don’t let it show. Your passion most shows through in your sweet and optimistic attitude. And chances are, most people are very passionate about you!

What Type of Passionate Woman Are You?

Strike 3, I’m OUT! Ain’t things just damned peachy? Y’all love me now, don’t ya? Tell the truth. I always wondered, and this confirms it fo’ shizzle. There is something to be said for my “passion being pink” though. It was right on that passion part.

Product review… hell, I really f’d up that part.

Budweiser: Good
Winston: Good
Duct Tape: Real good
The rest: So-so

I know, the product list is different, apparently, if you fuck up clonin’ just right, you’ll come out shoppin’ at different stores than your clone source did. If this didn’t come out like a transporter malfunction with Scotty at the controls, I damned sure don’t know what it’ll take Captain.(RedNeck Scotty speakin’) God rest his soul. He was the whip, and the biggest sandbaggin’ Chief Engineer I ever saw on TV. Taught me everything I know ’bout sand baggin’. Tea baggin’… now that’s a different story.