Sorry to disappoint everyone, but today’s post isn’t about sex.
It’s about dogs, namely two cutesy canines I saw yesterday while driving on the streets of Las Vegas.
These weren’t your typical mutts. To the contrary, these dogs know how to travel in style.
The photograph below is a close up-shot of a doggie driver who looks like he’s about ready to start the engine and drive away. Gee, I wonder if he flashes his middle paw out the window and barks when other drivers cut him off in traffic? And, how come he’s not wearing a seat belt?
They just announced the discovery of 715 new planets.
This doesn’t mean the planets are actually new. Only that we didn’t know about them before. So, they’re new to us. Here’s a direct link to the news story, just so everyone knows I’m not making this shit up. CLICK HERE
Okay, I read it. And frankly, I don’t understand what’s the big deal. I could have told them there were a bunch of planets out there, totally for free. Just look up in the sky. Had they asked my opinion, they could have saved a ton of tax dollars and endowment money paying all those expensive people salaries who spend all their time looking up at the sky. Some job, huh? Those fancy scientists should have been doing other stuff with their time, like looking for UFOs.
Speaking of UFOs, I’ve figured out why aliens are here. It’s obvious. They’re looking for sandwiches. A slice of pizza. A bag of peanuts. Anything — just so long as they can eat something. You don’t believe me? Check them out. Look at their bodies. Admit it. Have you ever an alien that looked healthy? You ever a fit and muscular alien? Hell no! Every one of those creatures has an 18-inch waist and pale skin. They don’t eat well. They don’t have suntans. They look like shit.
You’d think that if these people were so scientifically advanced, at least they’d know how to grill a cheesburger. And we’re supposed to get guidance from them? No, thanks. After taking one look, I think I’ll stay here on planet earth and enjoy a greasy bucket of KFC – thank you very much.
Been to a shopping mall lately?
Talk about hell on earth!
Going shopping is bad enough. But toss in prospecting for a parking space, swarms of mindless teenagers walking six in a line, and the latest annoyance — the gauntlet of sales carts and kiosks blocking every aisle — and that makes going into the mall for a pair of socks like maneuvering an obstacle course.
What happened to the days when shopping malls housed a bunch of popular stores with names we actually knew? What happened to the customer’s “space?” Now, malls have pretty much become the Grand Bazaar. It’s like walking through Istanbul on a Saturday afternoon. You can’t tell even anything about the stores or what they sell anymore from the outside.
Consider these names at a popular mall in Las Vegas:
You know Alex.
He’s our 12-year-old ginger boy, adopted from a homeless shelter in Washington, D.C. when he was a kitten. He’s the only cat in history to have played a hand of poker at the old Binion’s Horseshoe, which happened a few months before the place closed down.
Alex is retired now and living comfortably in Las Vegas. He spends most of his life sleeping.
Lucky for us, Alex made some extra special time for us this morning. He’s eager to help out all the busted gamblers out there who haven’t placed their bets yet on the Super Bowl. Alex feels mighty generous, especially after a healthy dose of catnip.
Let me level with you, okay. I’m going to teach you something.
I don’t care what all those fancy scientists and sandmen say. The pyramids were built by fools. Total idoits.
I mean, look at this gigantic thing in the photograph. These things weren’t built by “Monument’s Men.” Rather, what a monumental waste of space and time.
They spent like sixty years and forced more than 150,000 men and women to slave away seven days a week….and that’s the best structure they could come up with? Holy shit. Hell, it wasn’t even a union job.
And another thing. Who would be stupid enough to build a huge pyramid like that way out in the dessert? On sand dunes, no less. In the middle of nowhere.
Here’s a few construction sites that actually do make sense: The French Riviera? I get it. Bavaria? I get it. Bali, or Bora Bora? I’m there with ya. I could even see hauling and stacking limestone blocks somewhere in the middle of Alabama. On second thought, nevermind. Alabama is waaaaay worse that Egypt. I mean, have you ever stayed at the Motel 6 in Tuscaloosa? Bottom line — whoever the architect was that decided on a barren wasteland as a building site was either stoned off his ass, or should have been stoned (as in, to death).