~JOKE~

Here's a email from Tom:

> Little Leroy came into the kitchen where his mother was making
dinner.
>
>
> His birthday was coming up and he thought this was a good time to
> tell his
> mother what he wanted. Mom, I want a bike for my birthday."
>
>
> Little Leroy was a bit of a troublemaker. He had gotten into trouble

> at school and at home. Leroy's mother asked him if he thought he
> deserved to get a bike for his birthday. Little Leroy, of course,
> thought he did.
>
>
> Leroy's mother, being a Christian woman, wanted him to reflect on
> his behavior over the last year and write a letter to God and tell him

> why he deserved a bike for his birthday.
>
>
> Little Leroy stomped up the steps to his room and sat down to write
> God a letter.
>
>
> ******************************
> LETTER 1:
>
>
> Dear God:
> I have been a very good boy this year and I would like a bike for my

> birthday. I want a red one.
> Your friend, Leroy
>
>
> Leroy knew this wasn't true. He had not been a very good boy this
> year, so
> he tore up the letter and started over.
>
>
> *************************************
> LETTER 2:
>
>
> Dear God:
>
>
> This is your friend Leroy. I have been a pretty good boy this year,
> and I would like a red bike for my birthday.
> Thank you, Leroy
>
>
> Leroy knew this wasn't true either. He tore up the letter and
> started again.
>
>
> **************************************
> LETTER 3:
>
>
> Dear God:
> I have been an OK boy this year and I would really like a red bike
> for my birthday.
> Leroy
>
>
> Leroy knew he could not send this letter to God either, so he wrote
> another letter.
>
>
> ***********************************
> LETTER 4:
>
>
> Dear God:
> I know I haven't been a good boy this year. I am very sorry. I will
> be a good boy if you just send me a red bike for my birthday.
> Thank you, Leroy
>
>
> Leroy knew, even if it was true, this letter was not going to get
> him a bike.
>
>
> *****************************
> By now, Leroy was very upset. He went downstairs and told his mother
> he wanted to go to church. Leroy's mother thought her plan had worked
> because Leroy looked very sad.
>
>
> "Just be home in time for dinner," his mother said.
>
>
> Leroy walked down the street to the church and up to the altar. He
> looked around to see if any one was there. He picked up a statue-- the

> Virgin Mary.
> He slipped it under his shirt and ran out of the church, down the
> street, into his house, and up to his room. He shut the door to his
> room and sat down with a piece of paper and a pen.
>
>
> Leroy began to write his letter to God:
>
>
> LETTER 5:
>
>
> I GOT YOUR MAMA. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN, SEND THE BIKE.
> Signed, YOU KNOW WHO.

~YIKES~

And now, from the wilds of Hamilton.... the happy crapper still is out there. Perhaps gearing up to visit your house. Got Charmin?

Check out this link.

You can't invent this kind of stuff.

Bob

JONI REDUX

I dreamed that you were dead. She spoke these words
Into the dark. We lay among the sheets
Of satiated dreams. I thought I heard
Her raise her hand to push away defeat.
I'm not, I said. But that's the way it went.
From bad to worse... from bad to very bad.
I'm not, I said... and that is what I meant.
And still she took my hand and we were sad
That everything in both our lives could end
Like this: A whispered word that in the dark
Could smother hope. I know we can't defend
Ourselves from horrors that are cold and stark.
She raised her hand to push the dream away...
It came for her... not me... It came today.

jrb

~BENITO RIP~

Benito Martinez, world's oldest living man, 126 year old Cuban, died yesterday in hospital in Cuba. Benito moved to Cuba in 1880 from Haiti, attributes his longivity to going easy on cigars, on booze, hard work, and not marrying.

The Cubans actually have a club of 120 year olds. I may move... there must be something in the coffee. Tell me -- have you ever seen a Haitian that has lived that long without getting AIDS? Oh yeah... no women to hurry him to the graveyard. Hmmm.

Here'z the link.

Bob

~TONIGHT~

This is it for Rollins. Unless the high court intercedes the switch gets flipped on the Gainesville killer tonight at 6 PM.

Bob

~POLITICAL STUFF~

It was once said that all politics is local, and I think that I agree with that, and I got a big dose of that truism today: I was jabbering with a friend of mine... George Stuart... about his brother (Charlie Stuart (D)) running for House of Reps. District 8 against incumbent Rick Keller (R). I went to school with George. Trusty ole Edgewater High School in Orlando,FL (class of 64). Stuart's dad owned the local office supply store and he was always very political.... class president, blablabla.

Anyhow, his kid brother (Charlie) was five years behind us in school, and was the guy in the family who stayed behind and ran the family business for his folks, and did all the right things at the right times, and is still the banner carrier for the family myth of being politically active and doing the whole "right thing"... got it? And has earned his spurs as a community leader. The real deal, and worthy of carrying the banner for Central Florida. A good guy.

Well, I said that Keller had done a fairly good job for a first time intruder in the yellow dog politics of deep south Democrat politics and George said those clincher words: "but Bob, he ain't family." and that did it.

Just because Keller has the magic R after his name doesn't mean that he has paid his dues in the extended family of local politics. That doesn't mean that Stuart is better than Keller but he's just.... not family. That's all. The simple fact is that Charlie Stuart is embedded in the community deeper than the other guy: hell, the guy is on the board of the YMCA that I belong to, and he's on the board of the Heart of Florida, runs the United Way charities, and he runs the office supply place where I buy reams of paper and junk like that.

I'm still a Republican and will probably vote that ticket. But I'll be casting at least one ballot for the Class of '64.

God, I hope those lizards at DNC Move On.org don't start sending me requests for donations for the Sorg Defense Fund. org after this. I still want that creep strung up along with Barbara Streisand.

Bob

~OOPS~

So this guy has this 70 million pound plus Picasso painting in his Vegas office and he's showing it off to some buddies of his when he manages to put his elbow through the thing. The title of the painting is "Dreaming". I'll avoid the obvious joke here. I'll only observe that a more apt name would be "Dickhead", both because of the owner's clumsiness and because the lady pictured does seem to have such lively dreams.

Here's the link.

Bob

~KOREAN PLEASURE HOUSE~

There are complaints coming out of Korea about whorehouses where customers are using inflatable doll hookers, this because of a recent crackdown on the real thing. Oh, man. I knew there was something about those folks that was a trifle strange. This one should be in the Truth is Stranger Than category. Free enterprise will find a way, eh?

Here's the link.

Bob

Neat picture from JPL of Saturn approach.

OK... so you tell me. On this day in 1307 the Knights Templar were all rounded up and and burned at the stake. Ah, those cool crisp Maltese nights! 10/13/1307.

Just to be on the safe side... maybe I'll stay under the covers until tomorrow.

Bob

~FISH~

We took off for some fishing off Anclote Key... killing some and keeping some others. Tarpon are one of those oily, inedible fish that no one wants to put into their mouth but are ever hunted. Fishing was great. Some of the monsters got on the line but I was after meat, not stuff to hang up. The only thing this critter managed to miss was the scale. I'm pretty sure that he was a keeper... pulled like a billfish... minimum 80 pounds or more. The trout were out in force from Captive on south, schooled up in shoals over the eel grass. For once in my life I managed to get home without getting sunburnt into a crisp but sore and willing to sit in a lawn chair out under the banyans until the snook stopped popping under the docks. Ah, old and tired and with just the right amount of double malt to slide an old man between the sheets.

Katie and the redhead both have said that I should either find a teaching job or go back to the office and write bonds. They're both afraid that if I don't find something to occupy my mind I'm gonna take off in the boat to points unknown. I admit that I'm getting restless and I'm about to start looking seriously for a place to light. I suspect that it's either that or I'm gonna have to go walkabout. I say that but I'm not sure that I'm ready for all the careful planning that would go into another circumnavigation. I'm afraid that without my daughter along as a ten year old first mate that I wouldn't have as much fun as I had on the first time around. I'd probably just be wandering around with wet clothes and no real mission. A job would change that. I just am not sure that taking on another group of nacent dreamers would would do the trick. Ah well, more old fart rambling. Killing fish is supposed to be a cure for that.

You tell me. Should I have dragged that tarpon into the boat and weighed the thing? It was a whopper. Of course, dragging the beasts over the gunnel usually bangs them up too much to keep them alive. I think that I'm tired of killing things. Even one of those prehistoric hunters, which once tried to kill me when I was a kid learning how to fly fish in the mouth of the Shark River... about ten miles from where this one was hooked. Hear that? It's the sound of death... just a whisper from one predator to another.

For Eric -- You've asked for more stories. This references the fishing between my dad and me.

Bob

~SMASHING PUNKINS~

The kids in Boston is bombing cars with punkins from the overpasses on I-2. What's the name of their band? There's some vido associated from the link. Ha.

Here's the link.

Bob

~Victim places lotion on her skin~

And her name is Lamb! You can't make this stuff up. It could only happen in San Francisco, too.

Here's the link.

Bob

~BLINDED by SCIENCE~

This most recent issue of ScienceLine has an article on the origins of Kissing. The idea is that primates pre-chew food before passing it to the mouth of their young. I guess that makes sense, even if it doesn't sound very romantic. It still doesn't explain the Kiss to the left.

Here's the link.

Bob

~VALUEV~

There's the WBA world champ, Russian boxer Valuev. Nickoli (?). He's defending his title next weekend. First big payday. Look at the size of this guy. Seven feet tall, and it doesn't look like there's an ounce of fat on his body. There have been seven foot tall fighters in the past, but they looked soft and slow. This guy IS slow, but he doesn't look soft. He looks like his nickname... The Russian Giant. HBO will offer the fight thru Pay Per View. That should be an interesting fight. I'm just wondering if they can find anybody to fight this guy.

Here's the link.

Bob