Saddam Swallows

So...some guy just won $39 million from a slot machine at the Excalibur in Vegas. Lucky Bastard...I, for one, am completely disgusted by this guy. I wish him nothing but the worst in the days to come. Jealous, you say? You're damn right. I'm not one of these people that can be happy for others. If the money isn't coming directly to me, then it should be waiting in Vegas...for me. But no...this guy has to come along and snatch it "right from under me." Now, I've never been to Excalibur; I don't have any immediate plans to go to Excalibur; chances are I'll never step foot in Excalibur. I've never even put a dime into a slot machine -- but that doesn't mean that this guy should walk away with 39 million of my dollars. The unnamed man drops about $100 into the so called "one-armed bandit," and, miraculously, the bandit has a change of heart---> Here you go, unnamed lucky bastard. Take all of Jay's money. What would he possibly do with $39 million? Sometimes I hate people. Actually, most of the time I hate people. Everyone always says that "the earth doesn't revolve around you [me]." Well, my world revolves solely around me. Yes, it is certain that I am one conceited son-of-a-bulldozer. I'm always right, so you might as well get used to it...

Have I mentioned that I have a tendency to ramble? Chances are that the previous paragraph makes no sense whatsoever. I could go back and check that out for myself...but I won't. I'm too busy playing with my nut sack. Ahh...peanuts, cashews, more peanuts and cashews...I just love my nut sack. I never go anywhere without it. It's practically a part of me. Yes, I never go anywhere without my two best friends. You could call us the 3 Musketeers: me, my nut sack, and Mr. Giant Cock. Mr. Giant Cock, or Emilio to his friends, is my full blooded rooster pal (your mind was in the gutter, wasn't it -- shame on you). The 3 of us are virtually inseparable, and it seems that I spend a majority of my time playing with them. Oh...the times that we have had. I remember this road trip that we went on once. Yes, who could forget the The Great Tuna Cave? I know that I certainly haven't. Emilio really seemed to enjoy it as well. He spent a good 30 seconds running in and out of the cave...back and forth, back and forth. He must have got dizzy or something, though, because it all ended when he spit all over the place. Then, my rooster pal sat down, smoked a cigarette, and fell asleep -- but he was smiling, so I'm sure he had a good time. Memories, like the corners of my eye. Misty water-colored memories, of the way we were...

At this point in time, you've gotta be asking yourself -- where are the freaking sports, man? Usually, they at least have something to do with the strange trips you take us on. We feel like we're watching a Barbara Walters special. Are you gonna cry, Jay? Stop rambling, stick to the sports, man...stick to the sports.

Well, I've gotta be honest. I can't seem to wrap my mind around anything "sporty" today. I've really only got one subject on my mind right now, and that is our wonderful country. Yes, we're in the midst of March Madness, and the end of spring training...but, in the grand scheme of things...it just doesn't seem all that important to me today. While I sit here, spilling my guts to all of you -- there are hundreds of thousands of men and women (most younger than me) a half a world away fighting for this country, essentially fighting for you and me. It's true that American troops are in the middle east trying to save the innocent people of Iraq, and rid the world of one of it's most heinous individuals...but when all is said and done, I really look at it like this. They are there for America and its ideals...which means that they are over there for each of us -- fighting, and maybe even dying, for us. I have nothing but the greatest respect for anyone in the armed forces, and I wish them all the best. The chances are pretty good that all of you know someone over there. My father was in the army, and I live within miles of a military base...so I know plenty. One of our correspondents, esiason14 -- Kyle, may be on his way there right now. Like it or not, this war affects all of us, in some form or fashion. Regardless of your own personal politics, or whether or not you support the president -- please keep this in mind. Those "boys and girls" are over there for you, to protect your world. You can be anti-war, just don't be anti-America. This is why I would love to go pimp slap each and every fan that booed the American anthem at that hockey game somewhere in Canada. That was not a statement about the war. It was a testament to the stupidity of those fans, plain and simple. I have no problems whatsoever with people that are against the war...so, by all means, speak your mind and protest all you want. Just bear in mind that those are our countrymen out there -- the brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, those held most dear...of someone. The last I heard there were 11 allied casualties thus far, and there are destined to be more. I mourn for all of their families...because I believe that they gave their lives for me. So, to all of those troops currently in the war, and to those on their way...I can only say good luck and thank you. Now, get to work. Find that rat bastard Saddam Hussein, and introduce him to the American way, prison-rape style...

So, there you have it...that's where my mind is today. I've tried to keep this as "funny" as possible, but war can make that a little difficult.

But, I'll leave you with this...

Doesn't Saddam Hussein look like he could be a gay porn star? I mean, can't you just see the marquee -- Saddam Swallows -- starring your favorite mass-murderer, the most ruthless of hypocrites, the deadliest deep throat in the business...Mr. Saddam, "Punk B-yotch," Hussein. He'll go down in flames, or at the very least he'll go down on Osama. Coming this march to hell...courtesy of Uncle Sam.

Go get him troops...

Oh...I forgot to throw in a midget reference this week. We can't have that now, can we? So, I give to you the story of the 7 dwarves at the Vatican...

The Seven Dwarves are at the Vatican for some midget holiday, and Sneezy walks up to the Pope and asks "Excuse me, pope. Do you have any 3 foot tall nuns working around here?"

The Pope thinks about it for a minute, and says "No, my son, I don't believe we do."

Doc snorts from the back of the group, "Do you know of any 3 foot tall nuns at all?"

The Pope scratches his head, pauses, and says "No, my son, I don't know of any 3 foot tall nuns here or elsewhere."

At this, 6 of the dwarves begin laughing hysterically, to the extent of rolling on the floor, and the Pope asks "What is so funny about that?"

The 6 dwarves laugh again and begin chanting, "Dopey f---ed a penguin, Dopey f---ed a penguin!"