Lizard Logic

My mom sent this to me ... she got it off the Internet so it's probably traveled around the world 15 or 16 times already. But I thought it funny.

***

Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, dad, can you help?"

I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.

"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"

"Oh my gosh!," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."

"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"

I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.

"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)

"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).

"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.

"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)

By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."

"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.

"Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don't you?)

We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.

"It's breech,"my wife whispered, horrified.

"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.

"Okay, okay." Squeamishly , I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.

"Should I call 911," my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)

"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.

"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)

The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.

"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.

"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?" I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.

"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.

"Oh, perfectly," the Vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen ... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."

We were silent, absorbing this. "So Ernie's just...just... excited," my wife offered.

"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.

More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.

"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.

Tears were now running down her face. Laughing "It's just ... that ... I'm picturing you pulling on its ... its ... teeny little ...." She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.

"That's enough," I warned.

We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.

"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.

"Oh, you have NO idea," I said.

Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.


Moral of the story - finish biology class - lizards lay eggs!

Mindless Automaton Returns

Jessica McBride (McBucher, Bucher, McSykes ... take your pick) reprises her role of Mindless Automaton in the latest from Tom Tomorrow ... and "whallah" here it is below. Click on the picture and "whallah" it will enlarge (h/t to Xoff for inspiration).

Next week, Jessica continues her foreign language lessons for conservatives. Guess what this tranlates to from what language ... Off Weinersane.

Bob Gaastra (Lightning)

As soon as I had finished writing the previous blog post, I went to e-mail and discovered some incredibly bad news. My friend, Bob Gaastra, otherwise known as "Lightning" passed away August 7.

Bob had MS and had been confined to a wheelchair most of his adult life. He had a biting humor; a unique voice that was imitated with affection; was an avid baseball fan (we made numerous trades in our rotisserie league) and was a very good friend. There are friends of mine who were closer and had known Bob longer, and for them I feel especially saddened.

Thanks for being my friend, Bob.

It's a Girl

Ian (my soon to be 11-year old) won't be happy, but we found out today that baby Rock is a girl. It had been recommended that we go to see a specialist because, after a blood test three weeks ago, the chance of Down Syndrome was said to be slightly higher (in part due to our ages ... I am 50 and Kelly to be 39).

The specialist did an hour long exam of Kelly using ultrasound and was able to determine (not with 100 percent certainty) that the baby is healthy and progressing well.

Ultrasound photos to follow on a later blog. For now, got to get outside to weed gardens and cut lawn for the big birthday bash this weekend.

Run, Tom, Run!

An MSNBC article regarding the fight to have Tom DeLay’s name removed from the November ballot is a little confusing. The headline for the articles states “Scalia asked to block DeLay ruling.” The body of the article does not state as such, instead it states that, “Texas Republican Party chairwoman Tina Benkiser requested a delay of the appeals court ruling until Republicans can formally ask the Supreme Court to review the case.”

It’s a big difference. If the GOP has actually gone to Scalia, personally, and asked that the appeals court ruling blocked … well, so much for the Supreme Court retaining any sense of impartiality. It’s obvious the GOP knows they have a friend in Scalia.

Or not, who can really say? I do not know how requests to the Supreme Court are made. Not having the time to delve into this further, I will simply say that I hope the headline is inaccurate … but it’s probably not.


Update: Ah, the headline is somewhat misleading. Scalia presides over the 5th Circuit, so appeals go to him first. Then, for the case to proceed, four justices have to agree to accept the appeal, or, in an expedited appeal, it could be done on the authority of Chief Justice John Roberts.

This should be interesting. Obviously, the Democrats want to keep DeLay on the ballot. He is just a bit vulnerable. Read the rest here.

The Attack of the Killer McBucher

Oh no! A comment I made on Xoff's blog about the ubiquitous Jessica McBucher made its way into her blog. Of course, she cherry-picked from the comment and suggested we liberals are just a bit sexist. Coming from a racist bully, insensitive to any religion but her own, who writes like a juvenile, and whose only ambition is to accrue power regardless of the cost ... it's really very funny.

War Sucks

h/t to Bob Harris at This Modern World.

Beirut before and after the bombing. Click image to enlarge.














Oh, before anyone gets bent out of shape, if I had pictures of Israeli areas hit by rockets I would show them too. War sucks, regardless of which side you belong.

Rip It Up!

Two can play at this game, though h/t to Fraley’s Daily Takes for the idea. Got to give credit where credit is due.


No lack of conservatives in action at the State Fair this year. Here is a conservative schedule of far-right events at the Republican Party booth..

August 3
Come join the KKK and learn how to cut those eyeholes in the right place so the white hood fits perfectly.

August 4
Corporate welfare. Lend a hand and fork over a few dollars … help our multi-nationals out of some tough times.

August 5
Unsure how to write in an over-the-top fashion. Members of the Badger Blog Alliance will be on hand to help you put those words to screen. Don’t expect spelling help, though.

August 6
This should be frightening. Jessica McBride sings her favorites. Visit the WTMJ booth to hear these classics …from the Boss: ”Born to Run Like my Husband Paul,” a timeless Beatles classic: “Hey Paul, my husband,” Santana: Black Magic Woman Shot in Merton,” and, of course from Elton John: “Saturday Night’s All Right for my husband Paul.”

August 7
Join Scot Jensen and ruminate about the good old days. Tour a mock up of his jail cell to be.

August 8
Steve King autograph session. Run a gauntlet of pistol-whipping thugs to get his autograph. Some fun.

August 9
Be like George W. Lobotomies done for free at the WTMJ booth.

August 10
Watch the action as Paul Bucher tours the grounds rounding up illegal aliens while giving a bull whip demonstration.

August 11
Come see Glenn Grothman and Owen Robinson as they speak to young rape victims, telling them to endeavor to persevere and explaining how Grothman and Robinson’s decision that the young mothers’ should be forced to carry the fruit of their harrowing, painful and disgusting experience really isn’t personal.

August 12
Definition of hate mail to conservatives explained. Hint: Anything written that they disagree with.

August 13
Come watch as James Wigderson, Rick Esenberg, dad29, Clint, Paddy Mac, Charlie Sykes and Owen Robinson kick off the final day of State Fair with a reasonable rendition of the Radio City Rockettes’ kick line. They’ll be hot … and bothered.