Category Archives: Local

Special Gator Press Exclusive:

Drinks are to the drinker what hooks are to a hooker. You can buy them, which requires money. Or you may get other people to buy them for you, in which case you will be expected to perform bizarre sex acts afterwards while being filmed.
Some people have learned to obtain alcohol by simply stealing other peoples drinks; getting drinks on someone else’s tab; or by appropriating abandoned drinks.
If you are too broke to supply your own drinks, you need to develop some kind of “act”.
Musicians learned centuries ago that as long as they could make noise, they would drink free. Learn to play an instrument, tell funny jokes,  how to hula-hoop, or how to ignite farts.
Your new skill will pay off when it’s time to drink!
I shouldn’t have to mention that you are not going to have any fun drinking girlie drinks.  Any heterosexual man who drinks Sex on the Beach, Hard Lemonade, or other sissy drinks should immediately switch to a more manly and powerful fuel.
If you’re going to get properly smashed, you’ll need a Designated Driver (pronounced “segregated shriver”). This is the person who remains sober and drives. Often, petty criminals work off their jail time by performing community service as designated drivers, so beware. Sometimes, others will nominate you for this task, which you must avoid. Repeat this mantra: “m 2 junka jive” and you will usually avoid this hated assignment.
Beware of bartenders, who will not serve you if you appear to be intoxicated. It is against Texas law to drink while drunk. Momentarily sober up when ordering, and speak clearly. You won’t get served if you ask her to “fish me a nutty shrink”. Look the bartender dead in the eye, and order in a deep voice, like John Wayne. Don’t thay shings like thish.
Music usually sounds “bestest” and you can dance “gooder” when you’re drunk. If there is a band playing, they will always respect your taste in music if you loudly shout for them to play something by Leonard Skinner, or CC Top. Most bands are happy to have intoxicated guys get onstage and sing, so feel free to get up there and set a good example. If you’re at a karaoke show, dazzle everyone by spinning the microphones around by the cords. Don’t select a song, pick something at random. Sing loud enough so everyone can hear you. Not everyone in the bar – everyone.
And don’t sit down, stand up at the bar like a he-man. The drunker you stand there, the longer you’ll get.
Here’s a fun bar game to play: Remove one item of clothing after each drink, and encourage others to do so. By the time you are drunk, you will be almost naked. Once you are drunk and almost undressed, you might want to get laid, simply as a time-saving device. Do not attempt to get laid by a police officer when you have been drinking, unless you are into the whole handcuffs thing. Married people always make the mistake of taking off their wedding rings when they are on the prowl. That is plain stupid. Everybody wants to hook up with married people. That’s why there’s so much divorce.
Here is the best pickup line in the world for men to use: “Get your ass in the truck, we’re leaving”. I’ve been using that one for years, and like a good hunting dog, it always fetches.

Women realize of course that drunk men are the best lovers, so they are pretty easy to get once you have a buzz. Have you noticed that when you’re intoximicated, you’re witty, intelligent, and a better dancer? Alcohol creates instant sophistication, although you won’t be able to pronounce it. I have seen Jethro Bodeen turn into James Bond after a half a scottle of botch.
The most effective seduction advice for men is to keep giving her booze until she conks out. Scientific studies have shown that women often experience more erotic pleasure unconscious than they do while awake.
When two really drunk people have sex, it is always good. Of course, when nine drunk people have sex, it is incredible.
One of the primary objectives you must always remember is this: Stay out of the back seat of police cars. If you are driving, and a cop pulls in behind you, demonstrate that you are in complete control of the vehicle by swerving left and right a few times. Prove that your brakes are in good shape by accelerating and then suddenly stopping. Flash your lights and tap the horn a few times to show that everything is in working order. Remember: It is a known fact that the faster you drive, the sooner you will get there, thus reducing your exposure time.
If you do get stopped, feel free to tell the officer you’re personal friends with Gator, and he had better back off. Try complimenting the officer, but in an indirect way, something like “your wife sure does have nice tits”. Or, you could simply offer him $5 to just “forget the whole thing”.
If you have any open alcohol in the vehicle, hide it somehow, as it makes police officers jealous. I usually conceal beer by pouring it into my bong. You can hide pints and half-pints underneath your pistol in your holster.
If you are walking, and get stopped for suspicion of public intoxication, you can easily prove you are sober by leaving the vicinity rapidly on foot. A convincing demonstration of sprinting, jumping, and climbing may convince the law to let you go on your way without any hassles.
Okay, assuming you got drunk, laid, and survived the trip home, your next consideration is the Morning After.
Hangovers are caused by drinking too slowly. A slow drinker kills brain cells slowly, and in their death-throes, they trigger throbbing headaches. Fast drinkers snuff these cells quickly, saving all this pain. If you are a slow drinker, at the end of the night, do about 3 or 4 shots quickly to mercifully euthanize these dying brain cells. You’ll often wake up with no painful memories of what happened afterwards. If you do get up with a hangover, you need to kill these suffering brain cells off immediately with some more of the “dog that bit you”.
Married people who come home drunk always make the mistake of sneaking into the house quietly. Make as much noise as possible – your rambunctious mood may be contagious. Maybe everyone will wake up and want to party with you! In fact, invite the folks at “last call” over for an after-party at your place.
The health benefits of alcohol are too numerous to be listed here, however, here are a few of the positive benefits of being shitfaced that many people do not realize:
Breast Size: Women who use alcohol more regularly are likely to have larger kazongas, and they will often display them proudly.
Income: Nearly all serious drinkers are – or later become – or previously were – or have met – wealthy bastards.
Contacts: Drinking brings one into contact with higher echelons of society, including attorneys, doctors, judges, police officers, paramedics, and jail guards.
Appearance: Drinking is essential in improving your appearance. The more drinks other people have, the better your appearance will be to them. Use alcohol’s beauty enhancing secrets to your advantage. Nearly all of the world’s heterosexual men are ugly beasts.  This is the reason alcohol was created – so that intoxicated women might drink and either find us attractive, or else simply pass out at an opportune time.
If you have aspirations for higher office, and would like to be named “Town Drunk”, I recommend starting with a smaller town than Houston, and work your way up. If you live in the city, start off as a neighborhood drunk and run with it.
Above all, be careful with booze. Never spill a drop.   GATOR

First, the back-story:

“MAY 9, 2011 Port Arthur News:

Chambers County authorities and the Texas Rangers are investigating a McFaddin Beach shooting to determine if a woman’s death was a suicide or homicide.

Chambers County Deputies were dispatched to a shooting at McFaddin Beach on Texas 87 shortly before noon on Saturday, May 7, east of Texas 124 in High Island.

The shooting occurred along the one mile stretch of beach that is in Chambers County. Upon arrival, Deputies met with Galveston County authorities, who had received the initial 911 call.

According to two people in the area, they saw a black Ford four door truck driving in the area of the beach. The truck stopped for a few minutes, and then a gunshot was heard from inside the truck. A few minutes later a white male exited the truck, screaming that his wife had shot herself. The two people in the area did not witness the actual shooting, according to a press release from the Chambers County Sheriff’s Office.

The victim was identified as Doris Blair, a 51-year-old white female, who lived in Magnolia, Texas. However, she had a Mississippi driver’s license and family in that state.

Her husband, David Taylor, a 51-year-old white male from Magnolia, was the person with Blair at the time of the shooting, according to law enforcement. He was arrested on an unrelated warrant out of Walker County, Texas. He posted bond on the warrant the next day. Justice of the Peace Yale Devillier ordered an autopsy, but the results are pending.

Chambers County Sheriff Joe LaRive stated that his office, along with the Texas Rangers are conducting a thorough investigation into the incident to determine if this was a suicide or homicide. “It could take several days for the results of all crime scene evidence processing to be finalized.”

Since then, I have found out the following:
1. Doris was planning to leave David Taylor and return to Mississippi the following Monday. He wanted her to stay, but she was steadfast. He had been physically abusive to her, and there are medical records and eyewitnesses to prove it. After meeting online, they eventually hooked up, then she came to Texas. At first things were fine, but then David starting getting “weird” according to a family member. He asked Doris to have a threesome with him and another female. He was reportedly drinking, and by one account doing some drugs as well. He sent her to the hospital once, but she later tried to cover for him. This relationship had turned bitter and angry on both sides, and a crash was coming.

2. Taylor told police he had no idea where the gun used in the shooting came from. “I never saw that gun before in my life.” When I interviewed him, I asked “Do you know where she got the gun?” and he immediately told me he couldn’t talk anymore and hung up. Well, as it turns out, the gun was reported stolen several years ago in a break-in one night up in a small east Texas town.  Coincidentally, Taylor was arrested in that same town on the same night the burglary went down. Did David Taylor steal that pistol, then use it on Doris? Or, did Doris, who had never been to Texas, come over from Mississippi one night and steal a pistol, six years ago, on the same night David Taylor was busted in the same town. Hmmm…

3. David planned the trip to the beach to try to reconcile things with Doris. But he took her to the wrong beach. Doris was a religious, old-fashioned kind of girl, and he took her to the “swingers beach” at High Island. When they got there late Friday, according to Taylor himself and another source he spoke with, they mixed up some drinks and set up camp. Soon they had a couple of topless lesbians walk up and initiate a conversation, which Taylor seemed to think was all good. But Doris didn’t swing that way, and she wanted to be elsewhere. She copped an attitude.
So when bedtime came around, she slept on the ground in the tent, and David slept in the truck.
She was apparently more intent than ever on leaving him. The next morning she was dead.

4. Police have lost track of the two witnesses, but according to the police report, it was “several minutes” after the shot was heard that Taylor suddenly burst out of his truck, frantically screaming that Doris had shot herself. Why the long delay? Was he staging the scene? Wiping the gun? Disposing of evidence? Trying to come up with a story? Making sure she was dead? “Several minutes” is an awful long time when a person has just pulled out a gun and shot themselves.

5. Two months after the crime, family members came to Texas to say prayers at the murder scene. Guess what they found? Clothing and insurance papers that belonged to Doris Blair, inside a plastic bag, along with a sinister pair of rubber gloves. So apparently, Chambers County didn’t do a very good job of processing the crime scene. Did they even test Taylor or his for gunshot residue? Probably not.

The only conclusion I can draw from this story is: If I ever decide to kill someone, I’m going to do it in Chambers County. That way I don’t have to worry about cops, forensics, and prisons.  (GATOR)

A 125 lb. capsule will be sent on a journey though space to distant solar systems in hopes of someday curing dreaded diseases.
The distance the capsule will travel will take a minimum of 300 years. When the capsule arrives, it will make itself known to any inhabitants of the Omega 2 solar system by emitting radio, light, and audio signals.
Astronomers have long believed that Omega 2 is the most likely known solar system to be inhabited by intelligent beings.
Inside the capsule aliens will find samples of incurable diseases such as SARS, AIDS, and Ebola. Pictures depicting symptoms and a map showing where Earth is located will also be included. It is hoped some distant civilization will someday arrive with cures to these deadly germs.
The capsule is the brainchild of Egdar Woji, a world famous NASA phlebotomist.

Germs from Earth will travel millions of miles through the universe in search of a cure.

A guy walks into a bar in Pasadena and orders a triple scotch. The bartender pours him the drink and the guy downs it in one gulp. “Wow” says the bartender, “Something bad must have happened!” “Yeah it did,” he said. “I came home early today, went up to the bedroom, and found my wife having sex with my best friend.” The bartender pours the guy another triple shot. “This one’s on the house.” The dude gulps it down once again. The bartender asks “Did you say anything to your wife?” The guy answers “Yea, I walked up to her, told her to pack her bag’s and get out!” “What about your friend?” asks the bartender.
“I looked him straight in the eye and said BAD DOG”

An angry wife was complaining about her husband spending all his free time in a certain bar in Santa Fe, so one night he took her along with him. “What’ll you have?” he asked. “Oh, I don’t know. The same as you I suppose,” she replied. So, the husband ordered a couple of shots of Jack Daniel’s and threw his down in one shot. His wife watched him, then took a sip from her glass and immediately spat it out. “Yuck, that’s TERRIBLE!” she spluttered. “I don’t know how you can drink this stuff!” “Well, there you go,” cried the husband. “And you think I’m out enjoying myself every night!”

A blonde walks into a restaurant in Seabrook to get some dinner, and while she’s deciding on what she wants a waitress comes up. The blonde looks up and notices the waitress’s name tag on her shirt. ”Gee, that’s nice. What did you name the other one?”

A little boy goes up to his father and asks: “Dad, what’s the difference between hypothetical and reality?”
The father replies: “Well son, I could give you the book definitions, but I feel it could be best to show you by example. Go upstairs and ask your mother if she’d have sex with the mailman for $500,000.”
The boy goes and asks his mother: “Mom, would you have sex with the mailman for $500,000?” The mother replies: “Hell yes I would!”
The little boy returns to his father: “Dad, she said ‘Hell yes I would!'”
The father then says: “Okay, now go and ask your older sister if she’d have sex with her principal for $500,000.”
The boy asks his sister: “Would you have sex with your principal for $500,000?” The sister replies: “Hell yes I would!”
He returns to his father: “Dad, she said ‘Hell yes I would!'”
The father answers: “Okay son, here’s the deal: Hypothetically, we’re sitting on a million bucks, but in reality, we’re just shacked up with a couple of whores.”

This guy goes to a doctor and says he has a problem with sex.
“Doc, I think my dick is just too damn small,” he says.
The doctor asks him which drink he prefers.
Well, beer,” he replies, wondering what fucking difference it makes..
“Aaaahhh. There’s your problem, it shrinks things, beer does.. you should try drinking straight whiskey. It comes from the grain, and it makes things grow.”
Two months later the dude returns to the doctor with a big smile on his face.
He shakes the doctor by the hand and thanks him.
“I take it you’re now drinking straight whiskey?” asked the doctor.
“Oh no, Doc,” replies the man, “but I’ve got the ole lady drinking beer!”

Jeff walks into a bar in La Porte and sees his friend Paul slumped over the bar. He walks over and asks Paul what’s wrong.
“Well,” replies Paul, “you know that beautiful girl at work that I wanted to ask out, but I got a hardon every time I saw her?”
“Yes,” replies Jeff with a laugh.
“Well,” says Paul, straightening up, “I finally got up enough courage to ask her out, and she said yes.”
“That’s great!” says Jeff, “When are you going out?”
“I went to meet her this evening,” continues Paul, “but I was worried I’d get a boner again. So I got some duct tape and taped my hooter to my leg, so if I did, it wouldn’t show.”
“Makes sense to me” says Jeff.
“So I get to her door,” says Paul, “and I rang her doorbell. She answered it in the tiniest little see-thru mini dress you ever seen.”
“And what happened then?”
(Paul slumps back over the bar again.) “I kicked that poor girl right in the face!”

A farmer is sitting in the neighborhood bar in Alvin, slowly getting drunk. A man comes in and asks the farmer, “Hey, why are you sitting here on this beautiful day getting drunk?”
The farmer says, “Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So what happened that is so horrible?” the man asked.
The farmer then decides to try an answer, “Well if you must know, today I was sitting by my cow milking her. Just as I got the bucket about full, she took her left leg and kicked it over.”
“That’s not so bad, what’s the big deal?”
The farmer says, “Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So what happened?” the man asked again.
The farmer relenting, continued “I took her left leg and tied it to the post on the left with some rope. Then I sat down and continued to milk her. Just as I got the bucket about full she took her right leg and kicked it over.”
“Again?”
The farmer says, “Yep. Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So, what did you do then?” then man asked, intrigued.
“I took her right leg and tied it to the post on the right side. Then I sat back down and just continued to milk her, but just as I got the bucket just about full, the stupid cow knocks over the bucket with her tail.”
“Wow, you must have been pretty upset!” the man says, “but that’s no reason to just sit here getting all depressed.”
The farmer says, “Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So then what else did you do?” the man asked again.
“Well I didn’t have any more rope, so I took off my belt and tied her tail to the rafter. That’s when my pants fell down and my wife walked in.  Some things you just can’t explain!”

A redhead tells her blonde stepsister, “ I slept with a Brazilian…”
The blonde replies, “Oh my God! You slut! How many is a Brazilian?”

A dog, a cat, and a penis are sitting around a camp fire one night.
The dog says, “My life sucks, my master makes me do my business on a fire hydrant!”.
The cat says, “I don’t think so, my master makes me do my business in a box of cat litter.”
The penis outraged, says “At least your master doesn’t put a bag over your head
and make you do push ups until you throw up!”

A man is in a bar and has one too many drinks. This beautiful lady sits down next to him. He turns to her and says “Hey how bout it. You and me, gettin it on. I’ve got a couple dollars and it looks like you could use a little money.” She stands up and says, “What makes you think I charge by the inch?”

Two blondes walking down the street.  One reaches into her pocketbook for a make up compact and looks into the mirror.  “This picture looks like someone I know” she says.  The other one has a look and says, “Of course dummy, it’s ME….”

Little Johnny comes home from school one day and asks his mother what “shit” meant.
Thinking fast she replied “food on the table.”
Next day he comes home and asks his mother what does “son of a bitch” mean.
Again, thinking fast again she says “It’s a priest.”
Next day he comes home and asks what does “fuckin'” mean. She says it means “getting dressed.”
That same night a priest was coming over for dinner. Johnny is just finished setting the table when he hears the doorbell ring.
He yells “got it”. He opens the door and says “Hey son of a bitch, shits on the table and mom and dad are upstairs fuckin’.”

A man and a woman having drinks got into an argument about who enjoyed sex more.
The man said, “Men obviously enjoy sex more than women. Why do you think we’re so obsessed with getting laid?”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” the woman countered. “Think about this: when your ear itches and you put your finger in it and wiggle it around, then pull it out, which feels better: your ear or your finger?”

A married man decided to work late to be with his sexy secretary, so he called his wife to make up an excuse.
After work he invited his secretary to dinner. It soon became obvious that he was going to get lucky, so the two went back to her apartment and had great sex for two hours.
Afterward the fellow went to the bathroom to straighten up for the trip home and noticed a huge hickey on his neck. He panicked, wondering what to tell his wife.
After the man unlocked his front door, his dog came bounding to greet him. Aha, the man thought, and promptly fell to the carpet, pretending to fight off the affectionate animal. Holding his neck with one hand, he said, Honey, look what the dog did to my neck!
Hell, she answered, ripping open her blouse.
Look what he did to my tits!

These three guys are in a bar, having a few beers, and checking out the babes as they enter the establishment. One walks in, rather attractive, and they “discuss” her “rating,” which is on a 1 to 10 scale.
One says, “I’d give her a 7. She’s really quite pretty.” Another agrees, and so does the third.
The bartender, while bringing a new round of drinks to their table, overhears their rating of the young lass. He checks her out himself and says, “I’d give her a 3.”
“A 3?” says one of the three guys at the table. “She’s a real pretty girl.”
The bartender, walking away, says, “Well, I use the Budweiser method for rating women.”
The guys look at each other, figure the bartender has lousy taste in women, and go back to their ratings. Moments later, another young lady, prettier than the last, walks into the bar, and they confer between themselves and decide she deserves a 9.
However, the bartender, wiping off the table nearest to theirs, again overhears their rating of the gal. He checks her out himself and tells the fellows that he’d only give her a 5.
“A 5? How can you give her just a 5? She’s absolutely gorgeous!”
The bartender casually replies that he uses the Budweiser method for rating women.
“The Budweiser method?” they puzzle, as the bartender returns to his post behind the bar. They are quite confused.
Three, maybe four minutes pass by, and then a stunning blonde goddess walks into the bar. Long luscious legs, sexy shape. Truly a work of flawless perfection. Without hesitation, the three “judges” at the table determine that this young sultress is, without any doubt, a 10.
However, carrying a case of beer past them to restock the supply behind the bar, the bartender once more overhears their rating of the girl. He glances studiously at her, and says that the best, the very best that he could give her, would be a 7.
“A 7 ?!? How in the world could you give her just a 7? She’s friggin’ gorgeous!”
“Well,” says the bartender again, “I use the Budweiser method for rating women.”
“Budweiser!” says one of the guys, exasperated. “What in the hell is this ‘Budweiser method’ for rating women?”
“Well, says the bartender, “the Budweiser method for rating women is the number of those giant Budweiser Clydesdales it would take to pull me off of her!”

The meeting of The Electric Reliability Council of Texas (ERCOT) was postponed until January 15th after a power outage darkened meeting rooms on December 19th in Houston.

ERCOT manages the flow of electric power to 23 million Texas customers – representing 85 percent of the state’s electric load. Their stated goal is to provide reliability in the Texas electrical grid and minimize outages.  It seems slightly ironic that a power outage would cause them to miss a meeting.

The other day I somehow found myself at a web site called poetry.com. Apparently, the literary giants who operate Poetry.com are looking for the best poetry to publish. Just for the hell of it, and fully knowing there was some kind of scam involved, I dashed them off a quick poem, and submitted it to their contest under the pen-name “Shirley Zapinas”.

Here is the poem I submitted:

Taco pants sat on a dog yesterday…

Every now and then I am the moon
solemn and obscure behind a potted plant
with those few brave souls who can swoon
without ever leaning over at a slant.

So I must cop a baggy by hook or crook,
send bolts of lightning with a glance;
or else shut up and read a book
written by a fat man wearing plaid pants.

Perhaps I will stop speaking and scream,
walk to the edge of the sea of greed,
where pretentious poets still dream
of being published in a book none will read.

And if perchance these verses be chose,
if having words published be my luck,
then shall I remove all of my clothes,
cry out loudly that I could give a flying fuck.

if the price of the book they make is cheap
and cost me not my final dime,
then a dozen copies I shall buy and keep,
to make me laugh from time to time.
(Shirley Zapinas)

Just imagine my surprise when the Poetry.com editorial staff contacted me via email one day later to tell me that “Taco Pants Sat On A Dog”  had won their prestigious Editor’s Award, and would be featured in an upcoming book they are about to publish!
“Dear Shirley” the email said, “Your unique style and message impressed our editors, and we have selected your work to be published immediately… We are sure you will want to reserve at least a dozen copies of the upcoming book at the reduced rate of $59.95 each – they make excellent gifts.”
Some investigating turned up the fact that each book they print has about 600 poems in it. That translates to over $400,000 in sales for a press run of  7,000 copies.
The cost of the printing is about $4,000, so they can’t pay any royalties, but at least I will become a published author, and can sell my future poetry for millions.
My career as a poet is just getting started.
I have also been invited to attend the annual and prestigious International Poetry Writers Convention, a 5 day / 2 night event in Glen Falls, NY. All expenses are included (except air fare, meals, and lodging) in the $600 per person (double occupancy) fee.
So, for just $1,200 plus expenses, I can be there, hobnobbing with all of the top poets from the US, Canada, and other major cities.
Too bad I used the Shirley Zapinas moniker. If only I had used my real name… Now, I can’t go – although the editors assure me that the other poets are eagerly looking forward to meeting me (actually Shirley) for networking and socializing.
In the meanwhile, I’m going to have to buy at least a dozen books to “help cover  publishing expenses” or else Taco Pants is going to have to dismount his dog and sit on the sidelines.
I never knew becoming a famous poet was going to be so expensive, but that doesn’t matter. The main thing is that my talents have finally been discovered after all these years.

It was Christmas Eve. A woman came home to her husband after a day of busy shopping. Later on that night when she was getting undressed for bed, he noticed a mark on the inside of her leg. “What is that?” he asked. She said, “I visited the tattoo parlor today. On the inside of one leg I had them tattoo ‘Merry Christmas,’ and on the inside of the other one they tattooed ‘Happy New Year.'” Perplexed, he asked, “Why did you do that?” “Well,” she replied, “Now you can’t complain that there’s never anything to eat between the holidays!”
———————————————————–
Two rednecks walk into a restaurant. While having a bite to eat, they are talking about their moonshine operation.
Suddenly, a woman at a nearby table, who is eating a sandwich, begins to cough.
After a minute or so, it becomes apparent that she is in real distress. One of the hillbillies looks at her and says, ‘Kin ya swallar?’
The woman shakes her head no.
Then he asks, ‘Kin ya breathe?’
The woman begins to turn blue and shakes her head no.
The hillbilly walks over to the woman, lifts up her dress, yanks down her drawers and quickly gives her right butt cheek a lick with his tongue.
The woman is so shocked by this act that she has a violent spasm and the obstruction flies out of her mouth.
As she begins to breathe again, the Hillbilly walks slowly back to his table.
His partner says, ‘Ya know, I’d heerd of that there ‘Hind Lick Maneuver’ but I ain’t never seed nobody do it!’
———————————————————–
What’s the difference between a rooster and a blonde?
A rooster says cock-le-dood-le-doo…
A blonde says any-cock-le-doo…
———————————————————–
Three macho mice are sitting at a bar discussing just how tough they were.
The first mouse slams a shot and says: “I play with mouse traps for fun.
I’ll run into one on purpose and as it is closing on me,
I grab the bar and bench press it 20 to 30 times.” And, with that, he slams another shot.
The second mouse slams a shot and says: “That’s nothing.
I take those poison bait tablets, cut them up, and snort them, just for the fun of it.”
And, with that, he slams another shot.
The third mouse slams a shot, gets up, and turns to walk away.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” ask his friends.
The third mouse stops and replies: “I’m going home to screw the cat.”
———————————————————–
A husband and wife are shopping in their local Wal-Mart. The husband picks up a case of Budweiser and puts it in their cart.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asks the wife.
“They’re on sale, only $10 for 24 cans.“ he replies.
“Put them back, we can’t afford them.” demands the wife, and so they carry on shopping.
A few aisles further on along the woman picks up a $20 jar of face cream and puts it in the basket.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asks the husband.
“It’s my face cream. It makes me look beautiful.“ replies the wife.
Her husband retorts: “So does 24 cans of Budweiser and it’s half the price!“
———————————————————–
This guy goes to a whorehouse and says to the Madam, “I want to get screwed.”
The Madam tells him to go up to room #12 and knock on the door.
The guy walks up to the door, knocks on it, and says, “I really want to get screwed, bad!”
A very sexy voice replies “Just slide $20 under the door.”
So the man slides the $20 under the door and waits… Nothing Happens!
He knocks on the door again, and yells out “I want to get screwed!”
The sexy voice behind the door answers, “Again?”
———————————————————–
A couple had only been married for two weeks. The husband, although very much in love, couldn’t wait to go out on the town and party with his old buddies. So, he said to his new wife, “Honey, I’ll be right back.”
Where are you going, Coochy Coo?” asked the wife.
“I’m going to the bar, Pretty Face. I’m going to have a beer.”
The wife said, “You want a beer, my love?” She opened the door to the refrigerator and showed him 25 different kinds of beer, brands from 12 different countries including Germany, Holland, Japan, Czech Republic, etc.
The husband didn’t know what to do, and the only thing that he could think of saying was, “Yes, Lollipop… but at the bar… You know… they have frozen glasses.”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because the wife interrupted him by saying, “You want a frozen glass, Puppy Face?” She took a huge beer mug out of the freezer, so frozen that chunks of ice were forming out of the air on it
The husband, looking a bit pale, said, “Yes, Tootsie Roll, but at the bar they have those hors d’oeuvres. I won’t be long. I’ll be right back. I promise. OK?”
“You want hors d’oeuvres, Poochie Pooh?” She opened the oven and took out several kinds of hot, home-made treats.
“But my sweet honey… at the bar…. you know there’s swearing, dirty words and all that….”
“You want dirty words, Cutie Pie? Fine! Sit your ass down, shut the fuck up, drink your beer in your frozen mug, and eat your hors d’ oeuvres because your married ass isn’t going to the goddamn bar! Got it, asshole?”
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S

In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, street marijuana supplies in New York and New Jersey have reached their lowest levels ever, and panicked drug dealers are having to come to Texas and California to replenish.
The activity is stimulating the economies of both states, but may also be the cause of weed shortages reported locally.
“I ain’t been able to cop a bud in two weeks” one stoner in Pasadena reported, “My guy I normally get it from says it’s bone dry. All the Yankees has been buying it all up.”
Spot checks in New York City have prices over $100 for a one-quarter ounce bag of “dirt weed” – a commercial grade of pot which typically sells in Texas for $20-25.
“Primo” is selling for two to three times as much, if and when it can be found.
“I ran out of weed, looking for weed” one woman told a CNN news reporter.  “How do they expect us to survive?”
Compounding the problem is a shortage of beer and liquor in storm-affected areas.
There have been reports of six-packs of beer being sold for $25-30, and cheap grade whiskey at $100 per bottle.

A couple of Jersey girls on a recent visit...

Retired porn star and local folk artist Richard Rhea lives in a twilight-zone in which he can’t get pizza delivered to his home.
The Dickinson resident reported to police on November 10th that he had tried to order pizza from the League City Dominos, only to be told that he would have to call the Bacliff location, since he lives south of FM 517.
The manager of the Bacliff location informed Rhea that they do not deliver anywhere west of Highway 3, and that Rhea should try the Alvin location.  The employee who answered in Alvin said that his store does not deliver to Dickinson, and recommended Rhea contact the Texas City or Santa Fe stores.
Both of those locations also told Mr. Rhea they could not serve him.
When Richard asked the manager of the Texas City location what he ought to do, the manager reportedly told him to “Go!”
“Go where?” he asked.
“Go fuck yourself!” the manager yelled, then hung up the phone. At that point, Rhea called and reported it to the police.
A total of seven Dominos employees were arrested, charged with failing to render aid, a misdemeanor offense carrying no more than twenty years of state prison time.
Rhea was later able to get pizza delivery from another local restaurant.

Village Seafood of Dickinson finally came to Rhea's rescue, sending over this Super Deluxe, just in time for the Texans game.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, 19 men armed with box cutters directed by a man on dialysis in a cave fortress halfway around the world using a satellite phone and a laptop directed the most sophisticated penetration of the most heavily-defended airspace in the world, overpowering the passengers and the military combat-trained pilots on 4 commercial aircraft before flying those planes wildly off course for over an hour without being molested by a single fighter interceptor or air-to-ground system

These 19 hijackers, devout religious fundamentalists – who liked to drink booze at strip joints, snort cocaine, and live with pink-haired dancers – managed to knock down 3 buildings with 2 planes in New York, while in Washington a pilot who couldn’t handle a single engine Cessna was able to fly a 757 in an 8,000 foot descending 270 degree corskscrew turn to come exactly level with the ground, hitting the Pentagon in the budget analyst office where DOD staffers were working on the mystery of the 2.3 trillion dollars that Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld had announced “missing” from the Pentagon’s coffers in a press conference the day before, September 10, 2001.

In the meanwhile, someone in the financial markets made huge profits from these events by selling short on the stocks of the airlines involved through Deutschbank. The names of those investors have never been revealed, and a satisfactory reason for their foreknowledge has never been given.  This in spite of President Bush vowing to the nation that they would be found and face justice. Deutschbank’s CEO at the time was Buzzy Krongard, who had just taken the job after serving as Chief of Counterintelligence at the CIA.

Luckily, the news anchors knew who had committed this coordinated attack within minutes; the pundits were spinning it within hours; and the Administration confirmed within the day. The evidence literally fell into the FBI’s lap.

Obviously Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein, mortal enemies, had teamed up to attack us!

Suddenly, in mere moments, all of Israel’s worst enemies became also America’s worst enemies. For this, we must bomb them back into the stone age.

But for some reason a bunch of crazy conspiracy theorists were soon demanding some kind of significant investigation into the greatest attack on American soil in history – and the greatest failure of our national defense systems since Pearl Harbor. Incidentally, it was found that the Project for a New American Century (PNAC), a group to which Cheney and Rumsfield belonged, had recently called for a “new Pearl Harbor” event to galvanize America into imperial action which would usher in a new century of American domination of the world.

The investigation of 9-11 was delayed, underfunded, set up to fail, a conflict of interest and a cover up from start to finish. It was based on testimony extracted through torture, the records of which were destroyed. It failed to mention the existence and unexplained collapse of WTC #7, Able Danger, Ptech, Sibel Edmonds, Bin Laden’s longstanding CIA affiliation, and the drills of hijacked aircraft being flown into buildings that were being simulated at the precise same time that those events were actually happening.

The Commission was lied to by the Pentagon, the CIA, and the Bush Administration.  As for Bush and Cheney, no one knows what they said, because they testified in secret, off the record, not under oath, and behind closed doors. In fact, Bush agreed to appear only if the Vice President appeared with him.

The Commission didn’t bother to look at who funded the attacks because that question was (in their opinion) “of little practical significance.”  Still, the 9/11 Commission did brilliantly, answering all of the questions the public had (except most of the victims’ family members’ questions) and pinning blame on all the people responsible (although no one so much as lost their job), determining the attacks were “a failure of imagination” because “I don’t think anyone could envision flying airplanes into buildings.” Except for the Pentagon and FEMA and NORAD and the NRO. The DIA destroyed 2.5 TB of data on Able Danger, the simulated attack that mirrored the actual attack, and occurred at the same exact time. Able Danger was a military drill on 9-11 which simulated airplane attacks by terrorist hijackers in Manhattan and at the Pentagon.

The SEC destroyed their records on the investigation into the insider trading before the attacks, but that’s OK because destroying the records of the largest investigation in SEC history is just part of routine record keeping.

NIST has classified the data that they used for their model of WTC #7s collapse, but that’s OK because knowing how they made their model of that collapse would “jeopardize public safety.“

The FBI has argued that all material related to their investigation of 9/11 should be kept secret from the public, including the Black Boxes from the planes, but that’s OK because the FBI probably has nothing to hide.

Osama Bin Laden lived in a cave fortress in the hills of Afghanistan, but somehow he got away. Then he was hiding out in Tora Bora but somehow he got away again. Then he lived in Abottabad for years, taunting the most comprehensive intelligence dragnet employing the most sophisticated technology in the history of the world for 10 years, releasing video after video with complete impunity (and getting younger and younger as he did so), before finally being found in a daring SEAL team raid which wasn’t recorded on video, in which he didn’t resist or use his wife as a human shield, and in which these crack special forces operatives panicked and killed this unarmed man, supposedly the best source of intelligence about those dastardly terrorists on the planet. When they looked around the compound, the were unable to locate any dialysis equipment. A check of the surrounding villages revealed that the nearest dialysis clinic was over 60 miles away. Apparently, Bin Laden had been cured of his acute kidney failure. The operatives then dumped his body in the ocean in the dead of night before telling anyone about it. They did this in order to comply with Islamic custom, which in fact has nothing to say on the subject of burial at sea. The body never washed ashore. Soon afterwards,  a couple dozen of that SEAL team’s members died in a mysterious helicopter crash in Afghanistan.

You now know the official story of 9/11.

If you have any questions about this story, if there are any parts of it which make you feel uneasy…you are a batshit, paranoid, tinfoil hat dog-abusing baby-hater and will be reviled by everyone.
If you love your country and/or freedom, happiness, rainbows, rock and roll, puppy dogs, apple pie and your grandma, you will never express any doubts about any part of this story to anyone. Ever.   (GATOR)

A local 17 year-old teenager from League City has been sentenced to two years in prison for building a provocative sand sculpture at Galveston Beach in May.
Gabriel Fossman was sentenced as an adult for the crime of “Felony Lewdness”, which carries up to ten years imprisonment. With good behavior, Fossman may be released on good behavior after serving only 23 months.
Fossman and an accomplice created the sculpture on May 23rd in the 5200 block of Seawall Boulevard in Galveston.  The accomplice, 67 year-old Thomas McSnagg, was granted immunity in exchange for his testimony against Fossman.  He has also been accepted into the state Witness Protection Program and will receive a new identity, a job at a strip club, and sex-change surgery. The pair were arrested after a woman confronted them at the beach and phoned police. Fossman reportedly called the woman a “dumb bitch”, and was tasered 36 times after being handcuffed by officers.

In a dramatic moment during the trial, a prosecutor brought the sculpture into the courtroom for jurors to see.
The jury of 9 women, 2 men, and one person of undetermined sex, reached the guilty verdict after deliberating for only nine minutes.

Defense attorney Buster Lipp says his client maintains his innocence and he intends to appeal the verdict.

A police officer in Houston yesterday executed a double-amputee in a wheelchair after the man allegedly threatened his partner with what turned out to be a pen.
The early-morning execution occurred in a group home, the owner of which had called police complaining that the man was causing a disturbance.
Police representatives said that when two officers arrived, the disabled man cornered one policeman and threatened him with an object.  Another officer opened fire, shooting the crippled man in the head, saying he was forced to take action, “fearing for his partner’s safety and his own safety”, after the man refused to calm down and remain still, police said. Apparently, failure to calm down and remain still, even if you have a mental illness and are physically disabled, is a capitol offense here in the Lone Star State.
It was discovered later that the object that the one-armed, one-legged, wheelchair-bound man was waving turned out to be a felt-tipped drawing pen.
Police revealed that the dead man’s name was Brian Claunch, aged in his 40s.
The officer who conducted the execution has been identified as Matthew Jacob Marin, who has been a serving police officer, and thus an heroic first responder,  for five years. He was placed on a three-day paid vacation, which is a standard procedure for all shootings linked with officers.
Marin was reportedly involved in another field execution just three years ago, when he eliminated a suspect holding a knife.
The owner of the group home, John Garcia, said that the deceased, Brian Claunch, had been living at the place for approximately a year-and-a-half, and was mentally ill in addition to having lost an arm and a leg in a railroad accident. He was confined to his wheelechair or bed.
“He sometimes would go off a bit, but you just ignore it,” Garcia told reporters.
Houston police are equipped with a variety of non-lethal weapons, which they are also trained to use. These include tasers, pepper spray, flashlights, and clubs.
Why Marin chose to kill the invalid when other options were available is not known. Why not just kick his wheelchair over and handcuff his only arm to his only leg?