Again I have sucked the big one. I haven't updated since last Thursday. I finally got my home computer problem fixed, so maybe things will get back to normal. But I doubt it.

--I had another weird dream last night. I went to one of those Roller Derby matches, you know like they had in the '70's where everyone wore sparkley disco garb and tried to kick each other's asses. While on roller skates. How did this ever quit being popular, I ask you? Anyway, I was at this match with some guys I haven't seen since high school. In the dream, we were all drinking copious amounts of malted hops and barley, having a grand ole time. Suddenly, one of my former high school class mates is punched in the back of the head by one of the biggest, ugliest, butchest "women" you have ever seen. They proceed to exchange punches, and I am embarrassed to say that the "female" was whoopin' my friend's ass. Everyone in the gym (arena, stadium??) stopped watching the derby and started watching these two mix it up. I was just getting ready to jump in and help my friend, when my alarm went off. I spent the rest of the morning looking for a large, plaid flannel clad woman to beat up. What the hell is wrong with me?

--My SAR's seems to have cleared up, but I think there is something else going on with me. I think the SAR's may have been masking some other disease, like lyme disease or mono. I am completely run down and tired all the time. I could sleep for twelve hours, get up, move to the couch, and take a nap. I feel like my eyes could slam shut at any minute. I have a general ache about my body, and I just fell blah.

Some have said that I am a hypochondriac. But they're not doctors. Screw them. I'm dying. Getting........weak. Can't............see.................

--I am reading the latest Harry Potter book. I know they are supposed to be for kids, but I love 'em. I am almost pissed that they didn't have them when I was a kid. But, I had The Lord of The Rings and the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so I'll let it slide.

The Harry Potter books have gotten better and better. The newest one is pretty damn dark. But I think it works well for the reader. As the kid reads them, by the time they are ready for the latest book in the series they too have grown and matured. They also translate well onto the big screen. This, and all of the Harry Potter books, receive the prestigious Thurman The Mole Seal of Approval.

If you have not yet read them, I highly recommend them. And I will kick your ass if you don't. Try me.

--I know the hurricane has been everywhere you look, but it still blows me away that 80% of a fairly large metropolitan area is flooded. I think it's one of the signs of the end of the world or something.

All kidding aside, what I imagined the destruction to look like and the story the pictures tell are not even remotely close. It's scary that one day you can be kickin' it in the Big Easy, and the next you are watching everything you own float by as you are trapped atop your once beautiful home. From everyone here at the Mole, our thoughts and prayers go out to you.



That'll do it. I got's to get back to workin' for the man. With the way gas prices are, I'm working to make enough money to go back to work and that's about it. Doesn't quite compute, does it. Oh well. I'm dying, what do I care. See you tomorrow. If I can survive through the night.

I'm baaaaccckkkk!!!!

--Sorry about the last couple of days. With my computer having a virus and my nuts being in a vice at work, I haven't had a lot of "blog time". I promise I will do my best to make it up to you. I value your patronage, and strive to please. Now shut the fuck up.

--I have a friend, whom we shall call 'Dave', who is one of the most competitive people I know. Myself being highly competitive, I can usually spot my own. But Dave is a whole new breed. He has never done anything that he is not the best EVER at, and is usually willing to "make it interesting", i.e. bet on it. Even if he is not that good at something, he will bet you that he is.

Thus far, I have kept taking advantage of that flaw to a minimum. But sometimes, you have to knock some people back down to earth. Enter the "milk bet."

The story goes that a person cannot drink an entire gallon of milk, in one hour, and hold it down. It seems that the E. Coli in your digestive system cannot produce enough of the enzyme lactase to break down all of the lactose in the milk. Since it is not being processed, it sits there at a cozy 98.6 degrees, stewing in stomach acid. It then curdles, and voila!, milk erupts from every orifice on your body.

Hearing this, I believe Dave's exact words were "Shit, I love milk. I guarantee you I can do it." So I offered to make it "interesting". His reply?? "You're on, fucker." So, I went to the local quicky mart and purchased an ice cold vessel of cow secretions, and laid out the ground rules. 1 hour, 1 gallon, gotta keep it down for 3 hours. Let the games begin.

Dave broke out of the gates and was done with his first 16 ounce mug of moo juice in just a few minutes, and was already pouring the second. It was at this time that he informed me that he thought he only needed to drink 4 sixteen ounce mugs, but I told him that there are 128 ounces in a gallon and he was going to have to drink 8 mugs, which averaged out to a mug every 7 minutes or so. I could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes, but he just mumbled "No problem." Math never has been his strong suit. But he would bet you that it is.

The second mug went down, just a tad slower, but he was still well on pace. The next mug took nearly twice as long as the second, and he kept picking up the gallon jug to see where it was at. I could tell that he was starting to doubt his own verbose claims. I could smell the cash!!!!

He filled the mug for the fourth time, and sat looking at it for quite a while. He struggled, but managed to down it. At this point the excuses began to fly: "I ate dinner you see, I'm feeling all bloated because of the food." "I need to do this in the morning when I first wake up, then I could do it." "I like my milk ICE cold. This isn't as cold as I like it." I could tell the end was near.

He had finished exactly half of the gallon and it had only taken twenty minutes. The secret is that getting it in is the relatively simple part. Keeping it in, well that's a different story altogether. Dave got up, waddled to the couch, sat down, stood up and walked, tried to belch (which nearly ended the contest right then and there), and finally announced that while he believed that it could be done, he was forfeiting, citing less than optimal conditions to complete such a task.

So, I won. But being one to never back down, Dave automatically said "Double or nothing, next week." I of course took the action, and in 7 short days will be $200 richer. It's like taking candy from a retarded baby. You know you shouldn't, but it's just so EASY!!!

I'll let you know how the rematch goes. Hopefully I will have pictures of the festivities. Someone shooting milk out of their face really makes for good comedy. I imagine it would look something like this. That would be spectacular.

Oh yeah, in regards to Dave's plans to make the conditions more hospitable, here are a few things to think about:

1. An empty stomach would be MUCH worse than not. More stomach acid, nothing else to occupy it. Can anyone say cottage cheese?

2. The colder the milk, in that quantity, the more it will lower your own body temperature. When the body temperature lowers, digestion slows down. Couple that with number one above, and you got the beginnings of something very special.

3. If he does it in the morning, before his body is warmed up and ready to face such a taxing challenge, we won't have to wait an hour. It will be over much quicker.

Thank god for strippers and stupid people.

--That'll have to do it for today. I have meetings and other important stuff to do. Or at least look like I'm doing. Have a great Friday Eve.

Man I'm thirsty. Wonder if there's any milk in the fridge........

--I think my computer at home has contracted a virus. I mean, you try to tell them that if they insist on living such a high risk lifestyle, without any protection, that something like this might happen. You play with fire, scarecrow, and you're gonna get burned.

Seriously, I was at home last night, trying to squeeze in a few hands of online poker before bed, when my computer restarted itself. I thought nothing of it at first, but it did it again. I checked the processes from the task manager, and new ones were popping up left and right, with names like xsjfd.exe, jhgytu.exe, yruiod.exe. As I tried to stop them, more would pop up. I think I know the solution, but I think I have a long night on my hands. Wish me luck.

--I still have SARs. Or maybe it's avian flu. Either way, my head feels like it is stuffed with cotton, I can't taste anything. I am pretty sure that my body is producing more nose juice than it ever has in my entire life. I once had a head cold that lasted for 6 months. It just kept going. Finally one night I was in the bathroom and sneezed, and when I looked at my hand it looked like I had had a run in with that slimey ghost thingy from Ghostbusters. I yelled for my wife, because I didn't know if I should be alarmed. I mean, there was A LOT of the stuff.

After it was all out, I felt like a new man. I could breath, my head didn't feel like it weighed thirty pounds, and I could taste again. I hope this doesn't go on for that long. Please kill me.

--I made my much anticipated trek to the state fair Friday night. The freaks were on parade, as I had predicted. I am glad that people are comfortable in their own skin, but do they have to show so much of it? I mean there were kids there for Christ's sake.

I had my corndog. It was spectacular. But that was all I had. That and a diet coke. We spent eighty dollars, and I got a corn dog and a diet coke. I'm not sure it was eighty dollars good. It cost $22 to get in, including parking. I paid five dollars to park in a god damned field 2 miles from the fair. My son wanted a piece of pizza and a gatorade. Eight bucks. We bought $25 worth of ride tickets, which were good for four rides. He wanted an elephant ear, 5 bucks. He wanted me to win him a Sponge Bob doll, 8 bucks (and no, I didn't win it). My wife had a cheese steak, and I got a corn dog. Some how I think I may have gotten screwed. What do you think?

But, this trip was for my son. He is 5, and had never been before. We walked through the livestock barnes, and he got to pet a cow for the first time. There were goats and rabbits, too but he had seen them before. He really had a great time and you can't put a price tag on that. Of course, I almost could have bought him his own cow for that price..........

--Sorry for the short update today. I had a lot going on at work today and had several meetings. I'll try to do better tomorrow.


Don't take any wooden nickels. Mole, out.

That comes with 2 sides, right?


--I found a $20 bill today in a parking lot. After looking around and seeing that no one had just dropped it, I put it in my pocket. That is always the first thing someone does. They look around, and then pick it up. Do they think they are on candid camera, and Alan Funt will be behind a car so that just as you go to pick it up he can yank the string it's tied to?

And the second thing I did? I looked for more. I think that is the second natural reaction to finding money. We assume that someone walked down the street just tossing cash out of a giant pillow case or something. People (myself included) are so greedy. I couldn't be happy that I had just found twenty bucks. Oh no. I wanted more. (And in case your keeping score at home, there was no more.)

I am as guilty as the next person. Always wanting more. Where did this come from? Our cave dwelling ancestors were constantly striving to survive. They never cared about more. They just wanted enough to get by. Where did it all go wrong? God, I hate us.

--I have come to the realization that people are stupid. Monumentally stupid. I know you are probably saying "Well, duh." But no. I mean, I always had my suspicions. But I have learned that people are at least 10 times dumber than I ever gave them credit for.

Here is a perfect example. I knew a woman, whom I had the pleasure of working with, who needed 25 blank sheets of paper. I watched her very methodically open up a brand new pack of copier paper, place a sheet on the glass, type in 25 for the quantity, and hit the go button. She stood there and waited with the biggest smile on her face for her 25 copies to complete. She then took them and be-bopped down the hallway, acting as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I am a pretty liberal person, and believe that there is a place for all types of people. I work in a field where helping people is our goal. But this woman should have been killed. Or at the very least sterilized. The fact that she was so mind-numbingly stupid is scary. But thinking about her reproducing makes me wake up in a cold sweat at night. Jesus Christ.

--I have lots of little quirks that, alone, wouldn't cause any one to give it a second thought. As I thought about them all the other night, I began to wonder if there might be something wrong with me.

First of all, I have to sit with my back to the wall or the corner. Never to a door or an open room. When I go out with my wife, she always sits according to where I need to sit. And that is the operative word here. Need. If I had to sit with my back to the door or an open space, I would freak-the-fuck-out. Don't know why, just would.

Another thing that has to be "just so" is how I shower. I don't mean facing southeast or hopping on one foot, but I have to do it in a certain order, or it just doesn't "feel right". It takes me exactly twenty two minutes to take a shower. I can't just get in and get out. Everything has to be done just so, in the proper order.

The last quirk that I have, or that I will talk about, has to do with numbers. If I am driving behind someone, I look at their license plate, and manipulate the numbers until they end in a five or zero. Same with digital display numbers, or phone numbers. I take them and add them all up, then start adding them until I reach the desired outcome. For example, if I see a digital clock that says 10:23, I would add the 2 and 3 together, than add them to the 10, making fifteen. If it said 10:22, I could either add the 2's together (4), add the 10 to it (14), and then add the 4 and 1 together to get 5; or I could add the 10 and 22 together (32), and then add the 2 and 3 to get 5.

The next time you think you're fucked in the head, read the above paragraph.



I think that'll just about do it for this week. I have to go get a "prescription" filled. Have a great, safe weekend. (Let's see. It's 5:28 right now. 8+2=10, plus 5= 15. YES!!!!!!!!)

--This marks the tenth update I have written here. It only seems like yesterday when I posted the very first one. And boy, did it suck.

--In observance of this momentous anniversary (your tenth update only happens once, bucko) I am making a decree. From this day forward, Thursdays will be known as Friday Eve. Remember how excited we would all get on Christmas Eve, because the next day was gonna kick much ass? If we only called it 'December 24th' or 'Thursday', it wouldn't have the same effect. This is the first of many history altering decrees I plan to make, so stay tuned. You ain't seen nothing yet.

--I mentioned a few posts back about the Kentucky State Fair being a pretty big deal here. Well, it started today. As I type this, there are mass quantities of beer guts, camaros, and aquanet hair spray descending upon the fair grounds. I hope to have a digital camera when I go, so I can document the occasion in pictures.

One of my favorite things at fairs/carnivals is the ever popular corn dog. It goes along with my theory of the deep fried Twinkie. Both are common edible items, dipped in batter and fried in a vat of molten animal fat. I challenge anyone to come up with a food that would not automatically be better when dipped in batter and fried. I submit that you cannot. When I am there, I will hoist one into the air in for you. "Salut"

--I saw a woman today wearing stirrup pants. What in the hell are these things all about. Do woman secretly fantasize about being baseball players? There is no good reason I can think of for such a hideous piece of clothing. By the time a woman puts a pair on and pulls em up, the stirrups are pulled so tight I think you could play them like a guitar string. And the women wearing these things are not the smallest gals in the world. Maybe it's a comfort thing. That one size fits all deal. Well, they, along with spandex, should be outlawed. You never knew I was a fashion maven, did ya. Well, there's more where that came from.

--I want a tattoo. Nothing to big or hideous, but something. I was thinking about some of those Chinese characters or something on my massive bicep. That would be cool. Hey, maybe I could get the word corn dog tattooed on my arm in Chinese characters. Mmm, corn dogs.

That gets me wondering. Do the Chinese have corn dogs? If the stories are true, they actually have dog dogs stuck on skewers and deep fried. I bet they're not that bad. Hmmm...........



I gotta run. This has to be the lamest update thus far. It can only get better from here, right? Yeah, and I got a bridge in Brooklyn I'll sell ya.

Have a great Friday Eve everyone. Corn dog, out.

She'll need to take off her leather pants and jacket to get a tan.


--Sorry about yesterday. Work was kinda hectic, so I couldn't write an update. When you are such an important person, as I am, you find your time to be at a premium. Okay, I'm not very important, but I was really busy. Please don't hate me. I love you.

--I have a cold today. My throat feels like someone has scrubbed the inside of it with steel wool, my ears are clogged and my nose is dripping some mysterious fluid. I am a miserable bastard. I don't do sick very well. When I'm feeling this way, I just can't imagine how people can go about there business as if nothing is wrong. I AM SICK, DAMMIT. The world should stop rotating on it's axis until everyone has confirmed that I am going to pull through. Of course, I am relegated to whining about it here to you guys. It's a cold, cruel world we live in. People are gonna feel bad when I succumb to the West Nile virus I have obviously contracted.

--My Steelers handled their bidness last night. Interception return for a TD 12 seconds in. Kick return AND a punt return for a TD. Highly pleased. The second and third stringers blew, but hey that's why their not starters. I look forward to another competitive season from Big Ben and the boys.

--I received this joke today via email from my good friend Randy. Funny stuff:

Paying Attention

First-year students at Med School were receiving their first anatomy class with a real dead human body. They all gathered around the surgery table with the body covered with a white sheet. The professor started the class by telling them: "In medicine, it is necessary to have 2 important qualities as a doctor. The first is that you not be disgusted by anything involving the human body." For an example, the Professor pulled back the sheet, stuck his finger in the butt of the corpse, withdrew it and stuck his finger in his mouth." Go ahead and do the same thing," he told his students. The students freaked out, hesitated for several minutes, but eventually took turns sticking a finger in the butt of the dead body and sucking on it. When everyone had finished, the Professor looked at them and told them,"The second most important quality is observation. I stuck in my middle finger and sucked on my index finger. Now learn to pay attention."

--My hero, Jeff Kay of The West Virginia Surf Report, likes to brag that he is currently riding one of the most impressive streaks of self control ever recorded. Seems Mr. Kay has never, ever, taken a sit-down at work. Over twenty-five years, and narry a deuce dropped. While I can in no way claim to best him in either length (25 years) or frequency (zilch, zero, nada), I myself have kept this occurrence to a bare minimum. But, as is true with most things in my life, the one time I did have a lapse in sphincter control became what is heretofore known as "the day of shame".

I had just returned from lunch, where I had feasted on one of the greatest inventions known to mankind: the Chinese food buffet. 3 Billions of the little fuckers can't be wrong.

Anyway, I had just sat back down at my desk, ready to get back to the grind, when I was nearly doubled over by a sharp pain deep in my gut. I, of course, automatically thought I had been poisoned with arsenic or had an acute case of food poisoning (that's me, always thinking of the positive). Anyway, after my brain had processed the signals from the inner workings of my digestive system, I came to one conclusion: Hiroshima Crap.

Let me take a minute to explain. A Hiroshima Crap (also known as an ass-plosion) is one of those sudden, explosive movements that generally occur after eating foods of an Asian persuasion. I know that Hiroshima is in JAPAN, and I had CHINESE food, but the aftermath is pretty much the same. All Asian inspired cuisine has this effect on me.

So there I was, sweat beading up on my forehead, a rumble deep in my gut. It was becoming apparent that I would have to break my own rule about doing the deed at work. I walked ever so gingerly to the bathroom, careful not to make any sudden movements. While taking a dump at work was less than desirable, crapping in my pants at work ranks just ahead of that on my list of things to avoid. I made it just in time, and unleashed the fury of hell upon that poor porcelain bowl. Needless to say, I felt much better. I made sure all of the paperwork was in order, washed my hands, and exited the facility. To my surprise, there just happened to be a group of people right outside the bathroom discussing an upcoming renovation project that would occur in that corner of the building. The sounds and smells that had been emanating from the bathroom had obviously stunned them into silence, because when I walked out, they were all looking directly at me. The group consisted of our CEO, our HR director, and various other semi-important upper management types. I avoided making eye contact, mumbled a quick good afternoon, and went back to my desk to consider the swiftest and least painful wait to commit suicide. To this day, I can't look at any of them without remembering that horrific experience. Damn my undisciplined colon. Damn it I say!!!!!!

--Here are some funny links/items to get your mind off of my tragic tales of bathroom visits gone horribly awry:


Think of the ugliest dog you have ever seen, multiply it by one thousand, and this is what you get. (and yes, it's real)


The kick is up, and it's good!!!!!!!!!!


Here's a news story that is both alarming, and arousing. Where do I order???


Home early from work, an unsuspecting Frosty walks in.


And finally, here's a site that has it all. Disgusting pictures, weird news stories, and most importantly, boobies!!!!!!!!!


That'll do it for today, kids. Please put your seat backs and tray tables into their upright and locked positions. I'll try to do better tomorrow.

"Paging Ms. Boyle. Paging Ms. Lara Flynn Boyle."


--I heard today that they will be filming and showing 8 "bonus" episodes of the Sopranos. I think it would be more accurate to call them "appease the fans because they've had to wait 21 months and now they're all really pissed off" episodes. I understand that it takes time to make a good show, but come on. 21 months is an awfully long time. A.J. is gonna have gray hair by the time the shows hit the air waves.

I personally think that the Sopranos is the best show to ever be on television. I know there are some die-hard M.A.S.H. or Seinfeld fans who may disagree, but nothing has ever come close to being as entertaining as Tony and the boys.

I think the appeal of some "'gangsta ass dudes, doin' some gangsta ass shit" comes from every man's secret desire to be in the mob. If it weren't for the whole killing people thing, I would be in an Armani suit with my hair greased back and living "the life" right now. Most men feel this way. If they say they don't, take their man card and rip it up.

I wonder if I could start a 'Mob-lite', with all of the perks of being part of the Mafia, minus the killing and drugs. We would all drive Cadillacs and wear running suits. We could carry guns for effect, but never actually use them. We could put guys in our trunks and drive around in circles and then let them out 2 blocks from where we picked them up. They would never see that coming. I may have to look into this a little further. Who's up for some macaroni and gravy?? Madon!!

--I think I'm gonna buy a horse. The way gas prices keep rising, I think it would actually be cheaper to buy and take care of horse. I think it would be pretty cool to ride up to a fast food drive-thru, pull up on my big stallion, tip my comically oversized cowboy hat and say "Thank ya, ma'am." I always wanted a horse. Would that be weird??

--Speaking of horses, I am reminded of a story involving a horse and one of my fraternity brothers. (All right you sick bastards. It has nothing to do with sex and horses. And you know that's exactly what you were thinking.)

Anyway, I was driving home from school in Northern Indiana with a fraternity brother when we got behind a truck pulling a horse trailer. The only thing you could see was the horses tail, majestically blowing in the breeze. I was messing with the radio or something, not really paying attention, when my fraternity brother began to yell "It's winking, It's winking!". I had no idea what in the hell he was talking about, but just as I looked up to see what was "winking" a solid sheet of a brown, semi-liquid substance splashed onto the windshield. It was like a giant bucket of mud had been dropped onto my car from one of those fire fighting helicopters. Having the AC on full blast, blowing in mass quantities of air from the outside, quickly told me what the "substance" was. And the winking?? That's right. It was the horse's ass, giving an ominous warning of what was about to occur. It took almost $12 in quarters to finally get my car clean. And up until the time I got rid of the car, if the wind was just right, you could still smell the earthy, musky scent of horse shit inside.

I haven't talked to that fraternity brother in five years, but I can just imagine him sitting bolt upright in bed, soaked in sweat, yelling "It's winking! It's winking!"

--One of the updated features I have been kicking around is that of "guest" contributors. It can get pretty boring listening to me prattle on about horse shit and deep-fried twinkies. I haven't worked out all of the kinks yet, but stay tuned for further developments.


That'll just about do it for today. Hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable weekend. I'll try to do better next week. But I make no guarantees. Hi-ho Silver. Away....................

Not exactly the Pepsi challenge.

--I don't know about you, but I am this close to kicking a midget in the groin. I am so tired of hearing millionaire cry-baby athletes whining about the fact that they only make SEVEN MILLION DOLLARS A YEAR!!! I know a million bucks ain't what it used to be, but I think I could scrape by. Sure, I'd have to learn to manage my money better, but I think with a little determination and savvy financial planning I could make ends meet.

And I am not just talking about Terrell Owens. He is neither the first, nor will he be the last, player to complain about their financial woes. But I think that they need to remember that this is a game. They don't save lives. They don't protect people or keep them safe. No. A police officer makes 25 grand a year, and we just can't find a way to pay them more or give them the equipment they need to effectively do their jobs.

Well Mr. Tagliabue, listen up. Here's a plan that's a win-win for everyone. The season lasts, what, like 6 months? The other six months of the year these athletes are required to suit up for their local police or fire department, and truly earn their keep. While they would still be WAY overpaid, at least they will be giving something positive back to the community.

I do believe that athletes are paid for their ability to perform at the highest level in their particular field, but so are doctors, teachers and police officers. It's just too bad society places a higher value on men playing a game then on men and women who take on thankless, dangerous jobs with very little compensation in comparison. But who ever said life was fair?

Of course I know my plan would fail because there are more criminals IN THE LOCKER ROOM than on the streets. But at least it would be a start. As Terrell Owens would say "that's the stint of the sitchation." Oww, my groin.

--I am still completely flabbergasted by the fact that people will pay for ICE and WATER. I know there are quite a few things that are not easily produced nor readily available, which would justify paying for them. Ice and water are not in fact part of this group.

Last time I checked, I had water coming out of at least twelve different locations in my house. And then I stick it in the freezer, and I get ice. I am torn between the guilt of not telling others of this fantastic discovery, and the potential profit I could experience because I am obviously sitting on a gold mine. Perhaps I should contact the government. Maybe they would be interested in this "water-freezing" technology I stumbled into. I'll let you know how it turns out.

--I would now like to take a few moments to tell you about a man named Jeff Kay, and how he helped inspire me to create this pathetic attempt at humor, and to overcome baldness. Well, I'm still bald, but he inspired me nonetheless.

He is the author of a little website called 'The West Virginia Surf Report'. While some of my postings are fashioned after his (no, not plagiarized assholes), the fucked up stuff I talk about is all mine. (They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. )

I wanted to personally thank him for doing what he does, because he kicks ass at it and he gave me the confidence and motivation I needed to give this blogging thing a try. Even though he refuses to call his a blog, goddamit.

Maybe one day I will have the balls to send him the address to my site so he can tell me what he thinks. But not today.

--Speaking of fucked up things in my head (shut up!!!), I had a really weird dream the other night (stop it. the voices. THE VOICES!!).

I dreamt that I was working at a cheese factory. Is that right, cheese factory? Is it called something else? Anyway, I was making cheese. Not that plastic wrapped cheese-like processed food stuff, but wheels of cheese. And my boss was John Travolta! He was very cool and was very knowledgeable about the cheese making process.

John (he said I could call him John) was telling me about what it was like being a pilot and having your own jet. In the middle of this rather pleasant exchange, Vice President Dick Cheney walked in and said that John was under arrest. Turns out he was teaching Al Qaeda operatives how to fly and he was wanted as a matter of national security. I never have trusted that John Travolta bastard.

Weird, huh?? In the immortal words of George Costanza: "Do you ever get down on your knees and thank God you know me and have access to my dementia?"

--Last, but certainly not least, here are a couple of movie reviews that you may (or may not) find helpful:

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me- What in the hell was the maker of this film smoking. You think my dream was weird, you ain't seen nothing yet. The only way I could describe this movie would be "fucking strange", and that would only begin to scratch the surface. It's about a high school homecoming queen, played by Sheryl Lee, and the mystery surrounding her ultimate demise. It stars Kyle McLachlan, Moira Kelly, the aforementioned Ms. Lee, and this midget that freaks me the fuck out. I don't even know if I can recommend this movie or not. If you happen to see, I take no responsibility. My brain still hurts thinking about it. (Sorry if I offended any little people. One of my best friends is a midget.)

The Daytrippers- A fun little film starring Hope Davis, Stanley Tucci, Parker Posey and Liev Schreiber. Hope Davis is a happily married suburbanite who starts to find clues that lead her to think that her husband, played by Tucci, may be having an affair. Not wanting to believe that such a horrible thing could be true, she enlists the help of her mother, father, sister (Posey) and the sister's boyfriend (Schreiber) to drive her into the city and prove that her suspicions are unfounded. Really well written and acted, this movie has a little twist that pays off in the end.

And finally, Serial Mom. Starring Kathleen Turner, Sam Waterston, Matthew Lillard and Ricki Lake (yes, that Ricki Lake). Turner does a wonderful job playing your average all-American mother a la June Cleaver, but with a bit of a bad habit. You see, she likes to kill those who cross her or her family. It's like Martha Stewart meets Ted Bundy. How could you possibly go wrong!! This movie does prove one thing : John Waters is one of the craziest people to ever roam this earth. I salute you John Waters. God bless you.


Have a great day. I suddenly have a powerful hankerin' for a big ole wedge of cheese. Hmmmm.......Mole, out.

I said one with everything!!!



--Ah, Wednesday. Hump day. The midway point through the week. Wednesdays usually get a bad rap, but I personally think Mondays bite the big one. I guess I am just an optimist. We're not half way through the week, we're half way to the weekend! Or maybe I'm just in denial. Yeah, that's probably it.

--I have a fantasy football draft this weekend. I have been doing my "homework". I've been listening to the "experts". But I can almost guarantee that I will draft 'by the book' and still have a mediocre season. It never fails. If I would have had Peyton Manning last year, he would've had the worst season in NFL history. And I am pretty sure that I have actually ended the careers of some NFL players, just because they had the misfortune of being drafted to my fantasy team. If it weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck.

--I am getting broadband internet this weekend. My nipples are erect with excitement. I think I could cut glass with them. The FBI will be knocking on my door by early next week, because I have a LONG list of songs that I plan to download. Damn the man!

I also will delve deeper into my online gambling addiction, not to mention streaming porn. I mean, two dimensional pictures get pretty boring after a while.

Of course, I expect many "problems" during this technological upgrade. I can hear it now: "Mr. Sweet, your house was built facing the wrong direction AND on top of an ancient Indian burial ground. If we install a broadband connection, it will cause the roof to blow off and the toilets to flush counter-clockwise. For just $800 we could........." or something ridiculous. You think I'm joking? Just wait and see, bucko. Who needs reality television when you're me?

--Here are some more links to keep you occupied while you are supposed to be at work or spending quality time with the family:

This site tells you what your telephone number spells out. How have we all lived this long without access to this technology.

Here is a place where you can see some of the most bizarre (and disgusting) reasons that people gave when going to an STD clinic. The fourth one listed makes me want to hurl every time I see it.

This one gives you a review of twenty different cheap beer brands. Pretty funny.

And finally, this would make a the perfect gift for that Klansman in the family who is so hard to shop for.


Thus concludes our broadcast day, boys and girls. I'll be back tomorrow with more of this mind-numbingly exciting stuff. That is both a threat, and a promise.

The Wisdom of Yoda


--I have been religiously watching the show Six Feet Under since it started in 2001. No matter how messed up you may think your family is, you can watch this show and walk away thinking 'Never mind. My family is the Brady Bunch.' There are only a couple of episodes left, and I have to say that this show most definitely receives the prestigious Thurman The Mole Seal of Approval.

I think that's why shows like this, and most reality shows, are so popular. They make a person re-think the level of fucked-upedness they believe they are at. You may hate your job or wish you had more money, but at least you don't have to eat the ass out of a dead horse for a few Oreos and a glass of warm milk.

God bless reality t.v., and God bless the United States of America.

--I live near Louisville, Kentucky, and around this time each year the Kentucky State Fair gets underway. It is a festival of amusement rides, food, and livestock. They also have various animals in pens for you to look at. Ba-rum-bum. Anyway, the State Fair always marks an important time of year for me. Fall, my favorite season, is right around the corner. Football season is almost here. And I have the opportunity to try various meats or deep-fried food items on a stick. I would like to thank the man who had the vision and conviction to put a Twinkie on a stick, dip it in batter, and fry the hell out of it. Who says there are no brilliant thinkers left in the world. I am fighting back tears just thinking about it.

The other thing that really draws me to the fair is all of the prime people watching opportunities.
I think that the rationale that accompanies most fair going wardrobes is "Tight is Right". While in some instances I whole-heartedly agree with this, for the most part they are way off. Last year I got behind a woman who was wearing a pair of shorts that said "ANGEL" across the ass. After following her for about 100 feet, it just said "AL". Her ass had actually gobbled up the "NGE". It was like a car wreck. I knew I shouldn't be watching, but I couldn't look away. I was mesmerized. I had to show amazing restraint and not start throwing chunks of deep-fried Twinkie at it to see if it would eat that too.

I think when you pay your admission, you are required to check all handguns, explosives and common sense at the door. I mean, who in the hell pays forty dollars to win a three dollar stuffed animal? That's right, a fair-goer. Who pays eight dollars for a watered down soft drink? Yup, fair-goer. And who in the hell would drink WAY too much, just have to have an elephant ear with extra sugar, and puke in a garbage can? Well, that would be me. But you get my point. The same people who shriek "Two fifty a gallon for gas!!!" are the same ones who take out a second mortgage to take their brood of booger eaters to the fair. I guess it's all relative.




Sorry for the short update, but I have things to see and people to do, dammit. If you have your receipt and three forms of identification, you may be entitled to a refund. Later.

Monday, Monday. Ba,da....ba, da,da,da.


--I had to go through one of those drive-thru pharmacies on Friday. It's very clear that most of the people who utilize these NEED medication. I had to wait TWENTY MINUTES for a transaction that took roughly 30 seconds. The people in front of me decided, after 20 minutes, that they had in fact gone to THE WRONG PHARMACY. When the young lady behind the counter told them that they did not have anything there waiting, they wanted to argue with her. "Check your damn machine" was screamed at least 3 times. When the employee asked them if they had perhaps called the wrong pharmacy, the people realized that they had in fact DRIVEN to the wrong pharmacy. The man muttered something that sounded like "Sorry" and drove off. This is why there is a waiting period to buy handguns.

--I went to dinner with the wife Friday night, and ordered iced tea. I made a special request to have no lemon or other fruit added to my beverage. I think this goes against some kind of restaurant service code, because when I received my drink, it had a big hunk 'o vegetation floating in it. Who decided that this was the acceptable garnish for iced tea? Did they have to go through a lot of trial and error before they got it right? "Tea and apple?" No. "Tea and tomato?" No. 'Tea and lemon?" That's the ticket!! Eccchhhh.

--After dinner, we went to Wal-Mart to pick up a gift for someone else's little booger picker. When I pulled into the parking lot, I was overwhelmed with the sight of wife beaters and women in shorts that were entirely too short and/or tight. I have heard stories about people that have to get a series of booster shots before they go overseas because they come into contact with people who may be carrying some strange, exotic disease. I actually asked my wife if all of my shots were up to date before venturing into the mullet-sporting crowd. Inside was complete pandemonium. Nothing can get between a woman with a limp and her unbelievable shopping savings!!!! After making our purchase, we fought our way outside and I actually had to suppress the urge to kiss the pavement (after all, a lot of the people who frequent Wal-Mart like a little "chew" once in a while; especially the aforementioned woman with a limp). Going to Wal-Mart is to me like base-jumping is to others. It really gets the adrenaline pumping, there's a heightened sense of danger, and death is always possible.

--Someone asked me the other day what I thought about the rampant use of steroids in baseball. I think I replied "I don't care, give 'em all steroids." While this was said in jest, the person mentioned something about the 'purity of baseball.' Let me tell you something about the purity of baseball. It's pure bullshit. There is nothing pure about the game anymore. The stolen base is all but lost. People can't bunt. Salaries are larger than the Gross National Product of some small Central American countries. Pitching in the Major Leagues is pathetic. In the 60's, if you had an ERA over three, you were mediocre at best. Now, the pitcher closest to three is the Cy Young winner. I love baseball. I always will. But the purity of the game is something that was lost a long time ago.

--Speaking of sports, I watched the movie Rudy over the weekend. I've seen it at least ten times, but I always cry at the end. That's right, I cried. You got a problem with that?

--Another movie I watched this weekend, Constantine, RAWWWKKKED! It's about a demon hunter, played by Keanu Reeves, who is trying to atone for his sins to avoid his fated trip to hell when he dies. The script was really good, and it had a couple of "What the fuck?" moments as well. Highly recommend.

--Finally, here are some links for your surfing enjoyment:

Ever wonder about the bra size of your favorite actress? This site tells you!

This site will tell you the song that was number one on the charts the day you were born.

Ever played the game '6 Degrees to Kevin Bacon'? This site lets you type in any actors name and connects them in 6 steps or less. I have yet to stump it, and I used some silent film stars. Good luck!


That'll do it for today. I think I'm gonna go have a nice tall glass of iced tea with a big wedge of cantaloupe in it. Have a good one.

TGIF!!!!!

--This week has been a real ball masher. I, for one, am glad that it is over. The weekend always presents a person with countless opportunities. Opportunities that are usually squandered, but they are presented nonetheless. Boy, did I pick the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.

--I happened to catch the premiere of two new shows on FX last night. Holy crap!! The first show, called Starved, is a sitcom about eating disorders. Those are two words that don't often collide in the same sentence. I have to say that the show is very well written, and pretty damn funny. I can just imagine the pitch meeting for this show....."so anyway, you have four friends who all have different eating disorders. Funny, right? Well, it gets better. They go to this support group each week, and then we see them binging and purging. It's genius!!!"

The other show is called It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. It's about a trio of friends who own a bar in Philadelphia. In the first episode, they hire a "promotions" expert to help trump up business. The guy delivers, and business is booming. Unbeknownst to them, the 'expert' is gay and has filled the bar with gay men. The bar gets a write up in the newspaper as "the hottest gay bar in Philadelphia." Again, it was excellently written and the actors who play the bar-owning friends are absolutely hilarious.

Both of these shows receive the prestigious Thurman The Mole Seal Of Approval.

--Food for thought: Why do manufacturers of ketchup always include the word "tomato" on the label? Do they make ketchup out of anything else? Is there a pumpkin ketchup out there that I've never seen? Or zucchini? Any help on this matter would be greatly appreciated.

--Bumper sticker of the month: Save A Cow, Eat A Vegan

--This is quite possibly the most disturbing web site I have ever seen.

--Be on the lookout for some new and exciting updates, as I strive to maximize your Thurman The Mole experience. If you have any suggestions, feel free to share them in the comments section. I am planning on a forum and possibly an XML feed.



That'll do it for today. I'll be back Monday with an update on all of the "opportunities" that I most surely squandered. Have a great weekend. The Mole, out.

--Today was just one of those days that really makes me want to run away and join the circus. I work with individuals who have more letters after their name than they have IN their name, yet I find myself wondering how they find their way home at night. Baffling.

--Rafael Palmeiro. Did he, or didn't he. I say........WHO CARES! Give 'em all steroids and let the games begin. The talk now seems to focus on whether or not he belongs in the hall of fame. Of course he does. No matter how much stronger steroids make you, it doesn't affect bat speed, hand-eye coordination or any of the other things that really go into hitting a round ball with a round bat. The talk about his getting into the hall or not reminds of Pete Rose's situation. He, too, should be in. No doubt. It's about what you do on the field. If every player was held to this so-called "moral test", then people like Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, and Mickey Mantle wouldn't be there. They were great on the field, but off it they were like a bunch of Kennedy's at an open bar. But they all got in for their performances on the field. The way it should be.

--If cats always land on their feet, and bread always lands butter-side down, what would happen if you stapled a piece of buttered bread to the back of a cat and dropped it? I'll let you know how the field tests come out.

--The football season is right around the corner. I can't wait. My beloved Steelers are looking to kick much ass and make it to the Big Game. Hines Ward is holding out, but I think things will work themselves out. I look for great things from the Gold and Black this year. Of course, I am a Cubs fan, so I never let my expectations get too high.

--I know my site isn't much to look at now but it, like myself, is a work in progress. And you can't rush perfection, damn it. See ya tomorrow.

Welcome to Thurman The Mole! Nothing is off limits. In fact, I prefer anything that has to do with explosives, midgets, and farm animals. Enjoy!