It’s just so damned easy to take shots at anyone in the politco world of stoogery. I started off last October with a plea for a “NONE OF THE ABOVE” button during the primaries and was welcome with open arms. GW has been kind of “stupid easy” so I just get my digs in when I can. The buffoonery of the primaries and the debates has been enough retard fodder to last a lifetime, but this Obama vs. Clinton thing has given us all a constant dose of mental diarrhea. They are both killing each other and they are fools. I read a story the other day that so many of their supporters hate the other candidate so much that they won’t vote democrat in November if their choice is eliminated. Wow, that is the ultimate in stupidity and these two knuckeheads have only their mega-ton sized egos to blame.

We diddled with Senator Larry Craig and got down with New York’s ex-governor, the great and mighty Client number nine. And no one can say he’s taken to the governor’s orafice quite like New Jersey’s ex banana dangling doofus, Jerkin’ Jim McGreevy.

Hey, I just noticed that I seem to talk bout Oprah Winfrey a lot. Have you goofs caught that at all? Do I secretly have a deep and writhing sexual crush on the Prime Minister of North America?  I’m not telling, but after she endorsed the junior senator from Illinois she really opened herself up as a pompous ass.

We joined Maxim Magazine and picked on Sarah Jessica Parker as we all asked the same intriguing question: "Hey Sarah, why the long face?" Rosie O’Donnell seems to have been mentioned here once or twice. I just heard that Rosie and Paris Hilton have come out with a new line of lingerie for socialites and hermaphrodites. They haven’t named it yeat but Harvey Fierstein has been signed on as spokes queen.

Jeez, I didn’t even mention the wonderful and all-loving Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Now there’s a guy with an “L” on his forehead and a target on his back. An easy dude to lambaste if there ever was one. But did we all think for a second that he was the only preacher from his church that was a sociopathic racist? Could he really be the only one spreading vitriol and venomous hate? Well guess what, kiddies? Yes, another preacher from the Obama Barrack’s own Trinity United Church of Christ has come down on his fellow crackers. Chicago activist, Rev. Michael Pfleger, in last Sunday’s sermon at Obama’s church, said that Hillary Clinton’s eyes welled with tears before the New Hampshire primary because she felt "entitled" to the Democratic nomination and because "there’s a black man stealing my show."

This holy man of Christ said, "She just always thought that, ‘This is mine. I’m Bill’s wife. I’m white.’ … And then, out of nowhere, came ‘Hey, I’m Barack Obama." And she said, ‘Oh damn, where did you come from? I’m white. I’m entitled. There’s a black man stealing my show,’"

But wait, there’s more… "She wasn’t the only one crying," he said. "There was a whole lot of white people crying."

Listen you racist dirtbag, I may have cried at the end of Old Yeller and when Forrest stood over Jenny’s grave, but I sure as hell ain’t crying for Hillary "telephone pole legs" Clinton.

And as you would expect, the Hildebeast’s campaign wordsmiths retaliated with, "Divisive and hateful language like that is totally counterproductive in our efforts to bring our party together and have no place at the pulpit or in our politics," the campaign said in a statement. "We are disappointed that Senator Obama didn’t specifically reject Father’s Pfleger’s despicable comments about Senator Clinton, and assume he will do so."

OK, OK, I’m beating a dead horse talking about these two numbskulls but there’s so much to talk about as they keep beating the snot out of one another. Man, this leaves everyone asking the same question, “Just what kind of ministry did Senator Obama take refuge and comfort in for all these years?” How many of those good citizens have become brainwashed by all of the angry and hateful rhetoric that those so-called “men of god” preach? How many innocent children grew up listening to their harmful words and sick ideology? By NO MEANS am I calling Obama a racist, but he absorbed all of that vile lunacy for what, over 20 years or more? And just what am I insinuating? Shit, I couldn’t even spell insinuating without the dictionary, so don’t look at me.

Hey, that’s enough for the week. I don’t want all your brains on Zman overload because that will cause a multitude of various delirium.

A thanks to all of you readers and supporters, yes, even the loving Robert -  as May closes out and I have completed eight full months of this insanity. And remember the all important Zman’s Rule of Thumb: “Cuz I said so.”

Have a great weekend my stogie chompin’ peeps,
Tommy Z.
JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

But now the 30-Minute Meal Queen faces a new experience and it comes courtesy of the politically correct. Normally it seems that anything PC is generated from the liberal leftist point of view, but there’s one conservative blowhard mental case who has changed that perception. Her name is Michelle Malkin, a fear mongering stooge from the FOX Channel, who has also brought you blithering chimp screamers like Kill Bill O’Reily, Ann Coultar, and Alan “yes these are my real glasses” Colmes. (And let me remind you that I have always been a life-long conservative – until GW f’d everything up, that is.)

Rachael Ray is appearing in a new Dunkin Donuts online ad. As usual, the gal is all-smiles against a backdrop of cherry blossoms, while holding up a big cup of ice coffee. Around her neck is a kind of a shaggy looking silk scarf with a paisley design. No big deal, right? Who gives a flying fug, agreed? Wrong, as per the current edition of Advertising Age – so get this…

Conservative bloggers including Fox News commentator Michelle Malkin took up the cause last Friday, and Dunkin’ quietly pulled the spot from online agency Studiocom, Boston, over the weekend.

You see, these ultra hate-filled ass-wipes claim that Ray’s scarf resembles what is known as a keffiyeh, a traditional headdress that is worn by Arab men. Malkin has written the following on her blog…

"It was with some dismay that I learned last week that Dunkin’ Donuts’ spokeswoman Rachael Ray, the ubiquitous TV hostess, posed for one of the company’s ads in what appeared to be a black-and-white keffiyeh."

Good Lord, this has got to be a well organized left-wing conspiracy of massive proportion!

Ms. Chicken Little continues…“The keffiyeh, "for the clueless, is the traditional scarf of Arab men that has come to symbolize murderous Palestinian jihad." She added that it has been "mainstreamed by ignorant and not-so-ignorant fashion designers, celebrities and left-wing icons."

I may loathe Al Gore, Alec Baldwin, and Michael Moore like there’s no tomorrow, but I have never seen either of the left wing icons in a keffiyeh – unless you consider a baseball cap some kind of weirdo variation.

Rachael Ray officially has “no comment”, but word has it that on her website she features a You Tube video of a French chef gruesomely being beheaded by Ms. Ray with a potato peeler. It is quite horrifying and I have been asked not to post the url for the site. And in another ad for Dunkin Coolatas it has been reported that she’s driving a Panzer Tank through Alabama while wearing a white hood.

I don’t care what side you lean to politically, what Malkin has done is classic politico fear mongering horse-shit. How do you get people to notice you? You make up half-baked, retard level, wacky-ass problems so the world gets crazy and hopefully someone will give a rat’s ass and take notice (Jesus H. Christ, that sounds exactly like what I do everyday.)

So now Dunkin Donuts has to put out the blatant attack via arson by stating the following, “In a recent online ad, Rachael Ray is wearing a black-and-white silk scarf with a paisley design. It was selected by the stylist for the advertising shoot," Margie Myers, senior VP-communications for Dunkin’ Brands, said in a statement. "Absolutely no symbolism was intended."

God damned, Duh!

What in the name of Ali-Baba and all that is holy would be Dunkin D’s or their ad agency’s motive to be so intentionally provocative and abrasive? What would be the motive knowing that you could alienate many existing and potential customers forever? God damn it, Michelle Malkin, you force us all to ask one great big collective WTF? This is brutally irresponsible, yellow journalism and you should be forced to eat stewed curried snake and flat bread and walk the family goat for a month. What an absolute imbecile you are. In fact, who ever is wearing the closest ass-hat, please donate yours for this oh so worthy cause.

I think it’s up to us to decide… Rachael Ray – Peppy, perky, talentless talk show host and bobbleheaded faux chef – or, ice coffee peddling, Jihadist extremist selling fear and hate one Boston Crème at a time.

The stupidity just never ends.

Now THIS is interesting… My girl Oprah, the mighty queen of the Western Hemisphere has seen a sharp drop in sales and revenue on the TV talk show and her “O” Magazine, where her severely made-up and Photoshopped mug appears on a monthly basis. Now get this according to an article appearing on America Online, today…

The New York Times cites Winfrey’s recent endorsement of Sen. Barack Obama’s presidential bid as a possible factor in her downturn, fearing that "middle-aged white women who make up the bulk of her television audience" may have been alienated.

Say Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

"There are a lot of her fans who are not Democrats or who support Hillary Clinton who feel betrayed," said Janice Peck, an associate professor of mass communication at the University of Colorado and author of ‘The Age of Oprah.’ Peck says she’s surprised to see a slide for Winfrey, who "was like the pope" a few years ago.

Wow. Harpo’s little scheme and personal agenda of getting “her” candidate elected is backfiring. She thought she had the power of God to persuade the masses when she endorsed the Indiana senator, but clearly this was a pretty huge misjudgment on her part. Seems that "middle-aged white women who make up the bulk of her television audience" ain’t buying “Once you go Barrack, you never go back.”  And this is what I was referring to in my article of several days ago. This woman, a mere talk show host, has bought into the hype that she is a most powerful human being possessing super-human abilities. At first I couldn’t believe that Oprah didn’t come out for fellow woman, Hillary, but it became all too obvious that this was a race issue with Oprah and I said it before and I’ll say it again – only the white population can not vote for a white candidate based on race. If so we are racists, pretty cut and dry. But everyday the media spoke of Hispanic voters coming out for Bill Richardson and the black community’s support of Obama – even after the prominent and most excruciating Reverend Wright debacle.

And now, what of Senator Johnny Boy McCain making public appearances with GW Bushwhacker? Even though he needs to distance himself from Bush, the Arizona Senator got the thumbs up from the commander in chief yesterday at the White House and the question is: How badly does that hurt McCain? The Democrats are trying to label McCain as just another Bush, but anyone with half a goddamned brain knows that’s the farthest thing from the truth. The key thing is that Bush can raise big time dough for rockin’ Johnny’s campaign and that’s why he turned up yesterday in DC. Say…wouldn’t that make John McCain sort of a whore? Noooooooooooo!

So when does ol’ freedom fightin’, Ron Paul get serious and raise his “Live Free or Die” flag of apple pie Americana, just the way you like it – filled with images of raccoons, lake trout, and mighty pines? Doesn’t some anit-government, tree huggin’, Hollyweirdo have a few million bucks to lend to the Paul crusade? You’d think one of those granola suckin’  patriots would come forward and lend their “big name” to the cause. But so far Carrot Top and Paulie Shore are the only one’s interested and something tells me that’s not gonna persuade the American voter. Now Andrew Dice Clay is another story. And when does Ralph Malph Nadar get serious again and pull all-important votes away from one of the two main parties? That’s always a clusterf@#k waiting to happen.

Four months left of the lunacy, my peeps and the GW Express takes the 4:15 to Willoughby. “Next stop Willoughby…Why you’re in Willoughby Mr. President… Willoughby.”

Our youth went slow and school years dragged. Now our children have grown so damned fast that it is all feeling so very surreal. Our lives are shooting by like a laser beam and there’s NOTHING you can do to stop it. So if that’s the case, I say we all succumb to this reality and enjoy the living shit out of every damned thing you do. Thank God for every little thing you have. I know we hear this kind of advise all the time – but it’s so friggin true so why not take heed? What are we fighting for? I mean if you fell into a raging river and tried to swim against the current, kicking, flailing, and screaming – you would get sucked under and drown. And that’s what so many of us do in our daily lives. We get sucked under the rapids of high taxes and the cost of living, gas, food, the war in Iraq and it’s our own damned fault if we are drowning on a daily basis. That’s right, it’s your own damned fault.

Going with the flow is a term that gets tossed around as “positive thinking” rhetoric, but it’s probably one of the most sound pieces of advice someone will ever give you. Fall into that same raging river, completely relax with your head above water and you will float down stream, finally arriving where the calmer waters reside. Oh, you’ll hit some obstacles along the way, trees, stumps, rocks – but you’ll keep you cool and do whatever it takes to deal with the current dilemma and maneuver yourself to safety. Yeah, that’s my metaphor for the day, but damn if it’s not a good one – one that will lengthen your life.

Let’s look at the movie Forrest Gump for a moment. Whether you liked it or not really isn’t the point here. The point is that this stupid bastid (stupid is as stupid does) ran into so much adversity during his life: kids were mean and picked on him because he was mentally slow, he wore leg braces, he went to Vietnam, his best buddy died, he became a shrimpin’ boat captain with out any shrimp, his momma died, and then Jenny, the love of his life died. But no matter what happened, Forrest NEVER fought the situation at hand. Actually his mind was so simple that he didn’t know any better so he just naturally did the one thing that always got him through – he went with the flow. Going with the flow ALWAYS got him through everything he faced.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could “dumb down” our lives and stop our racing minds and took a really good look at where we really are – richer and better off than 95% of the people on this planet? Again if you think this is BS rhetoric, well you’re god damned dead wrong. Our whole lives are based on perception and it’s really Forrest Gump-like simple: If you perceive something to bad, then it is. I know, I know – that’s retard simple, right?  – so, if a retard can get this concept, what the hell is your problem?

As I sat alone on my patio last night, the sky dark and only the tiki torches flickering in the breeze, I thought about all the things I have in my life because of all of the amazing brave souls who served, saw real combat, and died. I didn’t intend to make this a continuation of yesterday’s thoughts, but it certainly does tie in.

I believe in the universal concept that we are like magnets and what you think about is what you bring about into your life. Yes, I really do believe in that theory. No, I don’t think that it’s new age, mumbo jumbo, horse hockey. And yes, I’ve seen it work time and time again. And no, I can’t explain it – it just works and thousands of books have been written on the subject. I could get all quantum physics on you, but that’s the last thing you need this porky Polack tossing at you the first day back from a long weekend. What you think about is what will show up in your life. So if you keep letting the economy, the war, and things you can’t control upset you – then upsetting things will continue to appear into your daily routine.

Guys, Im 49 and a half. Everyone deals with their age and their mortality differently and many fight the milestone years with a terrible fight – a falling into a raging river kind of fight. But I don’t really give a frig about turning 50 – I swear to God that to me it’s just a number. OK, I admit that being called half a century old is a little strange, but the reality is I can’t stop aging so I’ve decided to enjoy my life more than ever before and I‘m serious about that. Many of you broke my balls that I have the easiest job in the world. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the way I think about things and approach life is why I have this situation? What, like this is an accident? Not even close, my friends, not even close.

If this sounded like some Deepak Chopra PBS special – well I’m sorry for that. All I’m really saying is for you to take your head out of your blow-hole and look at what the hell you’ve really got. I am demanding that you think about and maybe even write down all of the good things in your life. Why? Because what you think about is what you bring more of into your life – Ergo – think about the good and more good shows up at your door.

For those of you who thought this was just a bunch of namby pamby, bullshit rambling – I still love you and you have yourself a swell day. And for those of you who get it – I mean REALLY get it – I say congrats on your life and expect many more good things to come.

Enjoy those summer gars while you’re at it,
Tommy Z.
JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

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The ultimate sacrifice is a brutally high price to pay, but so countless many have done it in the name of freedom. The loved ones of those who gave that sacrifice are reminded today of a reality that must feel like a bizarre dream that you never wake up from. I think it’s so important that WE all MUST keep that in out hearts and minds – especially if like me, you have never served in the armed forces.

I read a story from a writer the other day who said that he wasn’t sure how a day that remembers those who served and died turned into a day of cheeseburgers, beer, and pool gatherings, and he found it incredibly offensive to those who gave it all. But I have to disagree wholeheartedly. The Revolutionary War was started so WE THE PEOPLE could live free and do as we please with our lives. The World Wars fought powers that wanted to destroy Western society and again, the fight for freedom prevailed. Now Islam psychos want us all to perish, and again we stand tall but have a need for the first time to protect ourselves inside our borders.

I truly believe that today’s parties and gatherings are an absolute testament to our freedom in the United States to enjoy and celebrate our lives. Sitting by a pool, wolfing some slathered ribs and washing it down with icy cold malted grains is our god given right. Torching up our favorite cigar is our personal celebration for another day well lived on this rotating orb we call home. I say we enjoy ourselves in pure defiance of the terror nations who want us all gone. I say we hold our cigars and middle fingers high to the pricks who want to take us down. And I say we thank the service men and women who protect these liberties we enjoy – we thank them all, past and present for what we can enjoy today, and every day.

During a travel hockey tournament my son played in the DC area, we took time to visit Washington, and most particularly Arlington National Cemetery. It is a massive place, so awe inspiring and so emotionally moving. Soldiers are here from every war, and standing before headstones that stretch as far as he eye can see is surreal. JFK’s eternal flame is sombering – even though the event took place 45 years ago – the images of what it did to our nation run through your head and the emotions it conjures is unforgettable. But what we most remember is standing before the grave of Second Lieutenant John T. Wroblewski, the son of my neighbor, the very first marine from my state of New Jersey to be killed in Iraq. I remember the day his death was announced just four years ago as our small town street was besieged by news trucks and reporters from all over the United States. I got home from work and asked my kids what was going on and they told me it was all over the television. I remember feeling stunned and helpless instantly thinking what if that were my boy. This kind of thing doesn’t happen here where we live, not in our very own neighborhood. But it does – and when it does the events you see on TV that seem so distant are no longer “over there.” They are here and everyone feels the hurt and pain – most especially the parents of the fallen. JT’s mom and dad, Shawn and John are proud to have the street re-named after their son who was caught in a firefight trying to protect the marines in his unit. Everyday his dad feels the massive pride as he turns the corner of Notch Road and Wroblewski Drive, here in Jefferson Township, New Jersey.

Hey guys, I didn’t mean for this to be a bummer today, but it is a reality and we must not forget these brave people who gave everything they had. Everything. And again, I do believe it is our right to party today, our right to enjoy our family and friends, our right to exercise our FREEDOM. I have a freezer filled with Costco Sirloin 1/3 lb burgers, a fridge full of Heineken Light, some macaroni and potato salad, and oh yeah, a humidor brimming with oily smokes, begging me to take them out and play on this glorious blue sky day.

Yes today is a day we remember in our hearts and minds. But today is also a day we gather and enjoy our lives as Americans. And now I am off to a ball game on a most perfect day.

Here’s a thought to ponder…

What if I told you that you won the following for life – a million dollar home gym, one of the best personal trainers at your disposal 24/7, an amazing personal chef for your home who cooked all your meals while carefully watching your fat, sugar, sodium, etc, but still making everything delicious? Oh yeah, and you also have free access to top physicians, food experts, athletes, and authors on wellness. Can you imagine the fantastic physical health you’d be in? I mean there is no possible way you’d ever be fat again…EVER! There’s no question that for the rest of your days you would be in top physical shape, feel like a billion dollars, and enjoy life like you never dreamed possible. Wow, seems like an amazing dream. Well it most certainly is – for you and I – but not for Oprah Winfrey.

You see, Oprah has everything I just mentioned, as well as being a billionaire, but there’s one little problem: She’s a porker – a turkey jowled, rib suckin’, Tastey Cake gobblin’ fat-ass. We can all ask, “How is that possible?” but it is the truth. Now truth be known, I am also a fat bastid. I would like to change that, and I will – someday – and many of you may be feeling the same way. We want to change things, but somehow the proper motivation hasn’t arrived yet. But I ask, how motivated would you be if you had all the things listed above that fatty Harpo has? I have been an athlete all my life and I know without any doubt whatsoever that I WOULD be in the best shape of my life and NEVER, EVER be overweight again. There’s no question. I’m sure you all feel the same way.

So what’s her deal? Obviously it’s an emotional and mental problem and I fully understand that, but again, the big gal has access to psychologists, spiritual advisors, and new age geelazoids up the wazoo, yet she still packs on the pounds, then announces to the world that OPRAH is ready to lose weight! The great billionaire queen of the earth has now committed to shedding the fat – for the umpteenth time in the past ten years. Now this time she is going radical and doing a vegan style, 21 day detox plan. She will have NO animal products, caffeine, sugar, gluten and alcohol for three full weeks. If you know anything about diet and this kind of regimen, she will feel like absolute horrendous shit for a week going though massive withdrawal including headaches, body pains, and wicked bitchiness WAY beyond her normal queenly self. But after that, it is said you get an amazing energy rush and you feel simply amazing. Now that’s all well and good, but once she hops onto one of her emotional roller coasters that she’s famous for (Stedman does the nasty with her then dumps her ass again, her Yorkshire Terrier eats Brillo and shits blood, or one of her many light in the loafer friends is having issues) honey buns and biscuits and gravy will be the order of the day and Jimmy Buffet need not be present for the Margaritaville happy train.

People often ask me why I’m hung up on Oprah, and I admit that I am. I really don’t know how a talk show host got so famous and so grotesquely wealthy. Her annual salary is 260 million and she has a net worth of 2.5 billion – for being a talk show host. She can’t sing, dance, act, tell jokes, or hit a curveball and, I find her quite physically unattractive. Yet she is truly the queen of the universe and so highly revered by so many and again – I just don’t get it. She has made household names out of Rachael Ray and Dr. Phil of Shit and just one appearance on her show will blow the server on your website and have you depositing money into your bank account more than you are accustomed to. And again – I just don’t get it. (Could the fact that she’s both a woman and black have anything to do with the liberal media’s over-the-top adoration of her have anything to do with it? Naaaaaaah.) Maybe being born with vagina and a pair of breasts and mothering 2.5 children would have me weeping in empathy and then turning to Ellen Degeneres for a heaping dose of lesbian logic. But for some reason my man package has me still happy as hell over the New York Giants and nut hair deep in cigars for this weekend.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Oprah Winfrey takes on way too much in her life. I think she is so involved in so many heart-wrenching causes that it has gotten to her. And there’s no doubt that when you have been lauded as the queen of humanity – that has to put a ton of pressure on the psyche, which can bring about many problems such as – overeating. She has completely bought into the hype of her worldly importance and nothing has demonstrated that more than her public backing of Barrack Obama. She believes that she can change the world – a talk show host with no real talent, per se, and a face not made for TV – yet the media and the world has convinced her of her royal status. That’s a hell of a lot of pressure for a girl who grew up dirt poor in rural Mississippi. I’m sure that when you believe the hype and then can’t deliver all of the time, it becomes a problem with you mind, heart, and soul. So am I empathizing with Oprah? Maybe – a little, but again, I still don’t friggin get it.

You see my problem is that I love the taste of cow… and fine lager… and distilled grains… aged tobacco… and the two things I mentioned two paragraphs above. And, I KNOW a lot of my readership suffers from the same affliction. Maybe I, the Zman, can be the male Oprah, speaking on behalf of the rights of men’s men everywhere. That would be cool and I could use the extra cash – to build the world’s largest man cave – and buy more cow. Hey, and then I’d have the personal trainer, the gym, the chef, and get in great shape – and then buy into the hype of how swell I am and then turn back into a Polish pumpkin by nightfall. Ah, the candela wrapper is always greener on the other side of the fence.

Hey guys, please don’t spend the weekend worrying about Oprah. While she’s eating tofu and sprouts and having her chakra balanced and cleansed, you and I will be gorging on charred animal flesh, sucking down malted hops and barley, and best of all smoking the finest that the tropical countries have to offer.

And again, I may not get it, but I like being a guy, so I don’t really have to.

Have a terrific weekend all of my peeps.
And by all means people, Smoke em’ cause ya got em’!
Tommy Z.
JR Cigar Blog With the Zman

All right, I heard a lot of cackling in the comments yesterday trying to allege that the “cigar blogger” should be placed in the number one spot. I cannot believe that my faithful readers are not sympathetic to my daily grind of providing top-notch entertainment for the masses. First off, I have to work in my own home, people…my own home! Knowing that there’s food in that fridge and replays of the Mets game from last night on the TV is the kind of horrendous distractions that common folk don’t have to deal with. While YOU enjoy your favorite radio stations during rush hour traffic, I am forced to sit behind the computer like a slave and begin my search for a topic to write about. I have to search the web for hidden gems on a continual basis, alone and clad only in my boxers and yesterday’s golf shirt until I decide to force my self to shower. It’s disgusting and often times appalling, but someone has to step up to the plate and drive in the winning run, day in and day out.

If you think this is easy, oh you are far too naive my friend. I sit in these trenches for hours, forcing my brain to string together enough coherent thoughts in order to make all of you think, smile, laugh, and respond. And then I get the continual joke and pornographic emails from friends who think they are doing me a favor, when in reality it does not help my concentration, whatsoever. But I will always view the material out of kindness, figuring that some ingenious bastid spent hours preparing that Power Point slide show filled with enough nubile flesh and contorting limbs to make a man’s sweat glands thrust into overdrive.

Now all of a sudden I am getting harassed for my grammar! Ungrateful bastids! I’m not a f@#king English teacher for crissakes and I don’t have an editor – I’m really just a fat stogie sucking wanker who thinks he has something to say if only someone will listen. I don’t really even proof the thing until after I post it, and then I go in and correct what I find – or what a few of you dillweeds bust my balls about. But, I do admit I am terrible with synonyms. In all seriousness (if you can believe that for a moment) I write in a state of “stream of consciousness.” I may oftentimes do research and gather facts and data, but when I put my fingers to the keys, I’m off into another world and a couple hours later I have about 800 words on a screen in front of me and I’m not at all sure how they got there – and that’s the truth. Many writers will tell you the same thing. I’m not trying to sluff off the grammar part (and I know youz is just busting my cojones cuz you love me) but the content is key or else I could be a Harvard professor, but if I don’t have something interesting to say, I then have to answer to a man named Lew. And I love Lew from the bottom of my three day old socks to the top of my JR baseball cap. He is my God and there shall be no other God’s before me. (Yeah, he knows I’m a kiss-ass, but I think I’m like the brain dead Polack son he never had.)

OK, the Number 1 Easiest Job is…

The Socialite, aka, Ms. Paris Whitney Hilton

Paris has an interesting background and when you look up her occupation anywhere, it usually just says socialite. She is an heir to the Hilton hotel empire, yet from what I’ve read, ol’ Baron dissed the grandkids pretty good when he left to visit that great concierge in the sky. But that don’t stop Ms. Par-ee from making the headlines – and lots of dough to boot. Last year the gal made over seven million dollars, which is a hell of a lot of money for someone who does virtually nothing.

While many become famous for their contributions to society in one way or another, Paris Hilton is famous for being famous. And it’s strange, but I can’t really tell if she’s attractive or not. There’s this charming skankiness to her that often has me confused. Some guys love her and some loathe her, but the gal works her image like no other and you gotta give her props for that. Top designers give her their clothes to wear so she is seen in them. Restaurants, clubs, and casinos give her comped meals, drinks, and what have you so they can say she hangs at their establishment. And the Hollyweird contingent loves to attend her soirees so they can be seen with the “in crowd.” And lately she has dated a couple of sons of Greek tycoons, but that never lasts, as I’m sure once they discuss world affairs, politics, and the market, the rantings of a spoiled rotten 13 year-old become grotesquely superficial. No doubt she puts out for the go-zillionaires, but remember, this biotch was the star of The Simple Life reality show – and actually asked if Walmart was a place that sold walls.

This half brained twit – no, I meant to say “twit” you dirt bag – was quoted as stating that she is the iconic blonde of the decade and has compared herself to Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana. In a 2006 survey by the Associated Press, she was voted the second “Worst Celebrity Role Model”, right behind the amazing Ms. Britney Spears. And in 2007, the Guinness Book of World Records, Paris Hilton was awarded the distinction of being the world’s most overrated celebrity. 

So with that in mind, I have given you the world’s easiest jobs. If you have a few of your own, well, lemme hear them. Just remember I’m a sensitive and loving guy who is here to bring you smiles and merriment, fives days a week.

#3 – The Gym Teacher

There he stands with shorts and sneaks, marking upon that mighty clipboard with staunch authority. Who’s got black sox on? Who’s not wearing a jock? Did everybody take a shower? These are the demanding and most difficult questions that our guardian of playtime will ask as he rules the hardwood floor with an iron whistle. Today is dodge ball day, and he garners cheap thrills watching as the rotund, the meek and the geeks take a relentless punishing. Their lack of social acceptance and physical prowess makes them easy prey for the gaggle of jocks who sling their rubber sphere with torrid aggression and precision. Co-ed volleyball is his favorite as he watches the young nymphs jumping and bouncing as their rapidly changing nubile bodies complete with hormonal fluctuations have the sophomore boys writhing in an internal pubescent rage. Basketball is a humorous dilemma as the very tall wreak havok amongst those with average height as one simply cannot fight the forces of gravity. And floor hockey becomes a deadly joust as plastic blades collide causing multiple cases of head trauma, and not necessarily the one atop the neck. The bell doth ring and another forty minutes has given way as the kommandant of the lockers prepares to explain where babies come from in next period’s sixth grade health class. He is a god…he is the phys ed teacher.

#2 – The Weatherman

The standing joke amongst all folks these days is: “Where can you be wrong 50% of the time and still be on television and get paid a shit load of money? The Don of Doppler is properly known as a meteorologist but we rarely hear these toothy, grinning jackasses talk about giant balls of fire hurtling across the night sky. Their playful banter with the news anchors keeps the crew in stitches as the local TV weatherman stands before a green screen with nothing really behind him. He points to a spot that’s supposed to be northern New Jersey, but it could be an unflattering photo of Harvey Fiersetin for all he knows. Actually, I’m not sure if there are any flattering photos of Harvey Fierstein and I’m not inclined to visit Google Images to find that out.

“Tomorrow it might rain…or…it might not…but it’s all depending if this front blows out to sea just  like the smoke I’m blowing up your ass because I don’t have a f@#king clue what’s gonna happen more than two hours from now and you know it.” These clowns have a sun index, a heat index, a pollen index, a smog index but they don’t have the ability to get one main thing right: predicting the weather. “Tomorrow will be in the 80’s.” Well that’s a range of ten degrees there, Sam Champion, don’t cha think ya might wanna nail that down a tad? “Right now it’s cloudy and cold.” Really Nostradamus? That’s putting yerself out there on a ledge. “Tomorrow will be hot so wear your sun screen.” Thanks a bunch, C. Everett Coop. What would we do without you?

Of course the biggest farce of all is the “five-day” forecast. How goddamned stupid do they think we are for crissakes? On Sunday you said Wednesday would be 70 and partly sunny and it’s cloudy, rainy and 56 degrees. I know, I know, a cold front came in from Canada. You f@#king guys are always blaming the Canadians for our bad weather. Those people get a bad rap and you know you’re just making that shit up. What, are you gonna blame Iran? No, you pick the closest country and make them the bad guys.

“There might be some rain headed in the forecast later in the week, Bill.” This is like a movie teaser. What a load of Shineola. This overpaid stuffed shirt wants to be a talk show host but doing the weather in Syracuse, New York is all just a part of the “payin’ yer dues” process and he knows that keeping Joe Q. Public in suspense for another five days bides him some time until Access Hollywood calls.

And the job that comes in at number one is…

I think this is a great example of truth in advertising. If you’re going to sell a tech product and a tech service, you better ass have real live, honest to goodness tech-nerds geeking it up and making us customers feel like they’ve landed on the right planet. I want a fat kid with pimples who barely fits into his nuclear orange Apple t-shirt to wait on me. You know when you hire a dude like this that he’s 100% reliable and never has to leave early for travel hockey practice.

I started thinking that it be mandatory that all retail type establishments should have employees that reflect the product offering. Doesn’t that seem to make the most sense? Let’s start with Victoria Secret. I want some stinkin’, hot, nasty, top-heavy honey with wings waiting on my every whim. The last thing I need is some flaming twinkletoes named Gerard telling me that my wife will look “FABULOUS’ in this teddy. I friggin hate that. I want some six foot, Giselle, Amazon look alike in a half inch thong asking me if her outfit has my engine greased – not some well coifed, light in the loafers metro-man showing off his gams in a pair of size twelve red pumps.

How about Dick’s Sporting Goods? No, they don’t need to hire more dicks, but they do need to hire something other than dopey chicks and jerky college guys who don’t know what the hell a 32 / 25, minus 7, big barrel bat is. And, just the name “Sports Authority” is a joke as the only thing the knucklehead kids that work in there are an authority on is “when’s lunch?” and "Hey Jimmy, check out the hooters on that mama!” If I’m gonna buy hockey equipment, it had better be from some rink rat whose had his head plastered into the glass more times than Monty Hall has made a deal.

Speaking of HOOTERS, now THERE’s a franchise that fits the business model I’m talking about!… Smokin’ babes in tight white t-shirts with little orange shorts that are spray-painted on – and all they serve is hot wings and cold beer! This is a man’s dream vacation and you gotta give an A+ where it’s due, my bruthas. And shouldn’t all servers at McD’s and Burger King be mondo-fat slobs with ketchup stains tattooed on their necks? Any place that has “You want fries wit dat?” as their mantra needs to show the customer base that they are damned serious about their saturated fat content.

Another place that has it right is Hot Topic, the little boutique mall store that caters to Hardcore, Goth, Emo, and metal heads. Now I don’t expect that much of the readership here is a patron, but it’s a fact that if I want an ACDC, Sepultura, Exploited or Dead Kennedy’s shirt, I’m gonna buy it from some anti-social, suicidal punk-ass that looks like one of Marilyn Manson’s demon spawn. I know that this pierced freak who his parents have disowned and never gets through airport metal detectors is definitely going to hook me up the proper concert wear at the right price. Again, A+ marketing to the customer base.

I think one of the great things the end of the cigar boom did was get us back to cigar stores where people who really smoke cigars and know about the manufacturers have made a much-needed resurgence. Back in the mid-nineties there was a tobacco shop in the NJ/NY area that exploded and opened up multiple stores across the area. They had a fabulous selection of gars and accessories – humidors, lighters, etc. It was high priced, as mall rent will do that, but the atmosphere was wonderful and their walk-in humidors were well stocked and smelled terrific. But there was a problem – a huge problem – as they grew they hired stupid ass moron kids to run the stores, lame brained doofuses barely old enough to buy lottery tickets. They knew NOTHING about cigars or the accessories they sold within the stores. And, as we stogie lovers know, there’s nothing we love more than hanging out in a cigar store and yakking with a real tobacconist who shares the same passion you do for a fine smoke. Before you knew it the humidity levels were off in their humidors and Ashton VSG’s and Padron Anniversarios were swelling and cracking and nobody gave a shit, whatsoever. Once a guy came in looking for several boxes of "very" mild cigars for his wedding, and the counter chick turned him on to CAO Extremes! I told the guy to pick some Dunhills and that this chick was batshit stupid. She got indignant and I told her unless she wanted the "once a year cigar smokers" high and spewing chicken cordon blu on the dance floor, she’d better zip up her pride and upsell the dude to some of Sir Alfred’s finest. This place had gone to ten or so stores and now I believe there’s not a single one left. If there was EVER a place that needed truth in advertising, it is without a doubt a cigar shop.

You wanna share a few ideas of your own? Let’s hear ‘em, my peeps? Let’s make this place a better world for humans everywhere.

And on that note, I think I’ll choose a Maria Mancini for my late morning smoke.

Plain and simple, my client’s products were aimed at well-to-do W.A.S.P.’s – that was their market. No, not flying bugs with stingers on their ass; I’m talking about lily-white folk, named Biff and Muffy, adorned with argyle socks and nerdy tennis vests. What had me so agitated you ask? Because every goddamned stock photo that I found with people partying featured a white couple, a black couple, an Asian couple, and a Hispanic couple. I mean EVERY damned shot! All I asked for was a room full of boring white dudes sipping Pinot Noir in alligator golf shirts. But all that was available were dozens of racially mixed, culturally integrated, homogenized scenes straight from the do-gooders at P.C fantasyland.

Now, just the other day I was on my way to the local cockfight arena, sporting my fur-lined leather jacket and Redskins cap, when I stopped off to buy lottery tickets from my Indian buddy, Apu. I was standing on line behind some bad driving Chinese guy with a camera, and a queer handicapped midget. The fact that the lil’ feller kept massaging my Polish sausage with his neck brace tipped me off that he was an ardent fan of the "fifth limb." As I walked outside the bodega, I tripped over a fat, drunken, unemployed bum who was bathing in the lush scent of his own urine. As he held out his cup inquiring if I had any spare change, I gave him a heartfelt and inspiring bit of age-old advice… "Get a f@#kin’ job." 

OK, that little scenario may have been blatantly stupid and a tad over the edge, (gee, ya think?) but it certainly doesn’t make me a racist, sexist, homophobe, or a clubber of baby seals. What it makes me is a "humorist" taking an open court shot at the PC morality police (the people who want to save the world, and better yet, save us from ourselves.) Why? Because I absolutely loathe the very thought of political correctness and anyone who waves its vile and malodorous flag. Comedian Billy Connelly once referred to P.C. as the language of cowardice. Interesting.

When did this all start and how did it evolve into the viscous, steaming dung heap that it has become today? British author Philip Atkinson explains: "Political Correctness (PC) is the communal tyranny that erupted in the 1980’s. It was a spontaneous declaration that particular ideas, expressions and behavior, which were then legal, should be forbidden by law, and people who transgressed should be punished. The declared rational of this tyranny is to prevent people from being offended; to compel everyone to avoid using words or behavior that may upset homosexuals, women, non-whites, the crippled, the mentally impaired, the fat or the ugly. This reveals not only its absurdity but its inspiration."

Let’s get back to that "queer" handicapped midget for a moment. That’s right, I said QUEER... as in Queer Eye for the Straight Guy or Queer as Folk – the names of two highly popular TV series. Here’s the classic Double Standard in all its glory, folks: It’s OK when a gay person flaunts the term queer, but if I say it, I’m a hatemonger? It’s just like when rappers refer to black people as the "N" word in all their songs, but god help anyone else who utters those six letters. (In the words of Dana Carvey’s Church Lady, "How con-veeeenient!") Of course I agree that it’s an awful, hateful word – so hateful that no one should use it. Comedian Chris Rock says that word 500 times during one of his comedy specials. Does he make me laugh? Hells yeah, the man is hysterical! Does that make him a racist? Does it make me a racist? See how this shit can get you crazy? 

I recently saw an ad for a school that was exclusively for juvenile delinquents. But the headline copy referred to it as a learning facility for "children at risk." Not miscreants, punks, dirt-bags, hoodlums, or even misguided youths… but, children at risk? That is some serious PC spin doctoring at its finest. Is a bum simply someone who is vocationally and hygienically impaired? Is someone of the female gender who is chronologically debilitated, merely an old bag with a new twist? And what of our queer, handicapped midget? Shall we refer to him as a physically challenged, homosexual, lacking height? A bodily impaired, petite gay person? (Something tells me that "rump wrangling little gimp" is pushing the envelope just a bit.)

Our freedom of speech, thought, and expression that guys in white wigs fought and died for over 220 years ago is being hogtied and brutally raped right before our very eyes. Thousands of Cubans fled their native land during the Mariel Boatlift of the early ’80s to free themselves from the grips of a tyrant so they could live in a land where a man’s thoughts can make a difference. Record numbers of Russians, Czechs, and those of other communist nations risked death by defecting here in the 70’s and 80’s – just so they could have a choice in "how" to live their lives. But now the self-proclaimed champions of political correctness are turning George Orwell’s fictional works into a living prophecy. Smoke that fine cigar in public – a legal product – and you WILL be fined. Wear that animal fur – and you’ll be involuntarily bathed in blood and animal urine. Fired your employee for being a crack-dealing addict? The ACLU will make YOU the bad guy. Disagree with gay marriage? Trust me brother, you won’t be G.L.A.D.

No one agrees more than the late, great bona fide man’s man, Charlton Heston. (Anyone who can drive a chariot and part the red sea is a man’s man in my book.) In a speech he made to Harvard Law School students entitled Winning the Cultural War, on February 16, 1999, Mr. Heston, said, "I marched for civil rights with Dr. King in 1963 – long before Hollywood found it fashionable. But when I told an audience last year that white pride is just as valid as black pride or red pride or anyone else’s pride, they called me a racist. I’ve worked with brilliantly talented homosexuals all my life. But when I told an audience that gay rights should extend no further than your rights or my rights, I was called a homophobe. I served in World War II against the Axis powers. But during a speech, when I drew an analogy between singling out innocent Jews and singling out innocent gun owners, I was called an anti-Semite. If you talk about race, it does not make you a racist. If you see distinctions between the genders, it does not make you a sexist. If you think critically about a denomination, it does not make you anti-religion. If you accept but don’t celebrate homosexuality, it does not make you a homophobe." (The entire speech can be found at www.houstonprogressive.org/hestonlaw.html. It is fascinating and an absolute must read.)

Can you imagine TV shows of old making it on the air today? Anyone remember F-Troop? Where Indian fights are colorful sights and nobody takes a lickin’. Where pale face and redskin both turn chicken? No doubt that in today’s version the Hekawi’s would own a tax-exempt reservation casino and indoor water park. How ’bout Hogan’s Heroes? Bumbling, playful Nazi’s being outwitted each week during the Holocaust? Hardy-har-har. And what about Leave It to Beaver? Ya think that name might get by today’s sensors? Actually I think it did. I believe they ran it on Showtime and called it The "L" Word.

I agree with Dr. Atkinson that political correctness is an act of tyranny. Why do certain people feel they have the moral obligation to protect us from ourselves? If I choose to smoke my cigar, enjoy a thick steak, pound a few belts of scotch, listen to Howard Stern while scratching my boys in open display, then damn it, it’s my God given right. If I don’t want as part of my kid’s school reading curriculum "Daddy’s Special New Friend" or "Mommy dates a Carpet Cleaner," it’s my call, all right? If I want to watch the Indians, Chiefs, Seminoles, or Fighting Sioux, it does NOT make me a hatemonger. (For Christ sakes, I‘m half Polish, half Italian, and I’m from New Jersey… I AM a walking epithet!)

Freedom of thought. Freedom of Speech. Freedom of expression. Please – let’s not one day have our grand kids ask us, "What did that mean, Grandpa? Was there really such a time?"

In the words of Mr. Heston. on that February afternoon in ‘99, "I’m asking you to disavow cultural correctness with massive disobedience of rogue authority, social directives, and onerous laws that weaken personal freedom."

Yeah, what he said.