Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Assholes

I decided that Scout should really see the vet about the problem she was having with her anal glands. After all, this is REAL veterinary medicine ... you know, the get-your-hands-dirty kind of stuff that draw people into veterinary school. So, while the vet has his finger up Scout's ass probing, probing, ever probing, he is cheerily telling me about his excursion with his son to a college football game. I could tell that prescribing heartworm medication for the evil neighbor lady's rat dog was not his bag; his idea of heaven is a breach delivery of a calf or colt every day of the week for all eternity.

And I paid the $16.50 without hesitation. I was prepared to pay a hell of a lot more.

After obtaining relief for Scout, I got a call from the Clerk of the local court. The judge appointed me to represent a one man crime wave who, among a bunch of other less serious charges, allegedly broke a 14-year-old girl's nose. The guy is not this child's father, but the putative father of her child-to-be. So, he is in jail. The bail is some astronomical number. Not five minutes after this phone call, I get a call from a bail bondsman. He is "working with" the family, who want to post the bail. This is a huge payday for the bail bondsman ... a five figure payday.

The family is willing to pay this kind of money to get their son out of jail temporarily (and I say "temporarily" because he will be going to prison, assuming there is proof that he ... I guess we won't have to wait very long for the proof to be delivered and paternity tests to be done); yet, they don't want to pay a lawyer to represent him, but will let the court appoint a lawyer at public expense to handle the case. There is something very wrong here. I called the court Clerk back and told her about the call from the bail bondsman. I can't wait for Tuesday morning when the judge goes medieval on this guy and his parents ... I hate handling cases like this anyway.

Ummm ... We Wanted the Kids to Move Out?

I received an e-mail from the woman on the left side of the blog under the subject line: TAKE CARE OF THIS WHEN YOU GET HOME. Yes, in caps.

Here is the text of the e-mail:

IF IT HURTS, CALL THE VET, AND GET HER IN RIGHT AWAY. THEY MIGHT BE INFECTED -- NEED TO BE LANCED, EXPRESSED, AND SHE'LL NEED ANTIBIOTICS.

the pet's owner must clean them out, or 'express' them. This empties the glands of all material. It is done by applying pressure with the finger, start below the gland and then pushing upwards. In some dogs, this needs to be done every week or two.

I tried to do this a number of times, and nothing was "expressed." The only thing I can figure is that the instructions explicitly say "owner," and I'm not the owner; so, maybe the owner is the only one who can "express" it.

And what kind of "material" is supposed to be expressed? And why give no clues?

Family Ties

You've heard about Bush the Lesser's problems with the whole Karl Rove thing with the CIA-agent-identity-leak thingy and whether our fearless leader knew about it when he told the American people he was the one who most wanted to get to the bottom of things ... or whether he was trying to obstruct justice.

Well, back in the day, there was the pesky Iran Contra affair, in which the CIA dealt with Ronnie Reagan's sworn public enemy #1, Iran, like they were our good buddies ... you know, telling the American public one thing and like doing another. Who was in charge of the CIA back then? George Bush the Elder.

Same ... as ... it ... ever ... was.

Another Freakin' Birthday

Happy Birthday, Stacey!

I wanted to put a picture here of your mom bolding you when you were a baby or there's that one where you are holding some kind of religious artifact and you look like a cherub, but I have not been granted privileges to access those photos on your computer. I wonder why -- I was able to access them just a few days ago. Could it be that permission has been secretly withdrawn so that my plan would be thwarted?

So, instead, I am left with posting one of only three photos to which I have been granted access on your computer. So, my love, I salute you on your birthday!

Don't Forget to Feed the Fucking Frog!

I'm going to lay it all out here in a clear and concise way so that everyone will understand it. Since January, I have been having a very diffficult time here. I've been trying to adjust to a major change in my life; and I am hopeful that I can continue to do so.

I feel like I am battling every day; and at the end of the day, I look back and am quite grateful to have made it through one more day. I try not to look forward to the next day or the next week, certainly not the next month. That's a very tough thing to do. It's a matter of focus, focusing my energy on the matters at hand and coping the best that I can. It's a matter of surviving. If you only knew the history ...

But there is a dark place in my mind ... I know deep down in that dark place, a place I try to stay away from for the sake of sanity and all that is good in the world, that it is only a matter of time until it happens. What the consequences will be, I can only imagine. I'm afraid that I will snap. I've seen it, and it isn't very pretty.

There is another place, I know, where I will be free to be what I want to be, go where I want to go, and be what I want to be. I catch a glimpse of that world every now and then, if I really focus, really and truly look, instead of in this small space, this small corner of the universe, outside of the confines of my limited environment, to It that makes life possible, to It that makes the manna fall from on high, to It that peers into my eyes and makes strange sounds not of this world.

It annoys me when It causes my entire world to shake. When I am able to escape the bounds of this limited environment, from this prison bounded by invisible walls, when I am able to break free and leap as far as I am able, I will aim as high as I can, towards the top of the swiveling thing where two of Its blue eyes are located, just above the proboscis that emanates from just above the cavern where the noises It makes are produced. I will hop to the top ... the top of the swiveling thing with the eyes, the eyes that see, but do not see, and ride It to places I have seen only in my dreams.

You may say that I am a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I have a companion, really quite dim-witted, who incessantly slides along the the invisible walls, looking for an avenue of escape. He keeps looking. I don't think I can take him with me ... too damn slow; but when the time comes, I will make the break and leap to freedom.

Smack

An acquaintance drops by to see if you can lend him some smack; and you'd help him out, but you need to score some yourself. He says there's a cement mixer he can get if you got hook-ups to sell it. And it just so happens that you worked for a guy 20 years ago you know can use that cement mixer. Yeah, you got a hook-up.

It's six in the morning, and you can mellow out the whole day after you sell the cement mixer and score some H. It's gonna be a good day ... finally.

So, you go with your friend, he’s a friend now that he can be a source for some quick cash to get a fix cuz you’re crashin’ and it ain’t no fun. You swing by to get the cement mixer and hitch it to the pick-up, battered from the too many run-ins with things that suddenly got in your way. But you make it to Greenie’s place. And you go in the air-conditioned office. He says you look like hell, but it ain’t none o’ his concern what the fuck you look like. You got a cement mixer to sell to him for two hundred bucks.

"It’s not in good condition," he says. "Sixty," you say. "It’s probably stolen," he says. "Twunny-five," you mumble. "Sellin’ it for drug money," he so rightly points out. "Ten bucks, man. Please, I need gas money," you say politely, shakes starting.

"No."

"Fuck you."

The cops stop you with the cement mixer in tow, heading for the scrap metal place on Broadway.

"What the fuck? Where’m I goin’ It ain’t stolen, officer."

Cell Phones and Assault Weapons

I was driving along I-480 at 75 or so, downloading a program from a website with my fucking phone/pda/pocket pc. This is crazy! When was it? Like 1987 -- I got a cellular telephone for my birthday because I was driving a lot and it was new technology, cool technology. So, I had this James Bond-like thousand dollar device with a speakerphone that was installed in my car. Finding out I had a phone in my car, the partner in the law firm who liked gadgets just had to get one. He couldn’t stand it that I was the first kid on the block to have one. My secretary wouldn’t give the number to anyone so they couldn’t get a hold of me after I left the office. Imagine that ...

There’s a rumor circulating that the city of Cleveland will be giving away 100 Street Sweeper and Striker 12 revolving cylinder shotguns at the new gun shop inside the West Side Market as a promotion to attract the National Rifle Association’s 2007 national convention, which was withdrawn from Columbus, Ohio, because the city council there passed a comprehensive assault weapons ban.

Yoga

Just when I think that I have things slightly under control and that my client understands how he is supposed to act in the courtroom and what he is supposed to wear, my client shows up, not wearing shorts, but wearing a clean white shirt over a pair of pants that end just above his ankles. That is not a good thing to do when I have worked out a deal to have the drunk driving charge thrown out.

But I remained calm and unnerved. This was a minor thing compared to the experience of my first yoga class last night. You'd think that a relatively simple thing like standing on one leg, which is one of the tests police use to determine if someone might be drunk, wouldn't be so difficult to do that I could end up in a flaccid heap on the floor.

I was nervous, it being my first time and all. Maintaining that erect posture for a long period without giving in to the body's urges is something one learns only from experience. My yoga master rushed over to assist in getting me up. I thanked her for her very kind offer and advised her I didn't need any outside help to get up.

Funny, I had no real problem on the other leg because I maintained an intense focus on keeping erect and unwavering. It was good. Well, that’s only what I thought …

The other positions were not as difficult, at least for me. The yoga master came and gave me a block to use because she thought that I wouldn’t be in the proper position as I was stretched out touching the floor with my left hand, right arm stretched out toward the ceiling, legs splayed way apart. I asked her what I was doing wrong; she told me; I corrected the position; she said that I was in great position and didn’t need any artificial devices to aid me in achieving the goal. So, I guess she felt good about how I performed.

I was pleased with the class and plan to continue.

Jagged Little Pill?

For those of you who are here for the first time or fairly new readers or the two regular readers, let me tell you something about myself. It's something new that I discovered this morning and about which I am quite alarmed. I'm thinking that it is an isolated occurrence, a one-time only thing, but I have these lingering thoughts that my life as I have known it will be forever changed.

I've been taking some pills. My doctor said I should take vitamins; so, I'm taking Centrum vitamins. And if one is good, two is better. These are huge fucking pills. And I take a couple blood pressure pills and the two pills because I'm fucking nuts. That's what I take just before I jump in the shower and wash them down.

I complained last night about a crack in the corner of my mouth. I noticed it a couple days ago, and it wasn't going away. This morning, Stacey suggested I take a couple chromium piccolinate pills and some other huge hog-choker of a pill. She had some strawberry lemonade sitting on her nightstand. I tossed all the pills in my mouth and took a swig of strawberry lemonade.

I gagged. What the hell. I swallowed again, and my whole body rebelled. It was flesh and blood telling my mind to fuck off! I never had a problem like this before. I dry-swallowed pills all the time. I took another hit of lemonade.

GODDAMMIT! Happened again! I got most of them down and this time puked up two of the huge-ass pills.

Do you think I need to grind them up tomorrow morning and mix them with apple sauce?

SLOWING DOWN

the step-down dosage of prednisone doesn’t hop me up as much as the 125-pills-per-day dose of the methylprednisolone. go figure. the nuclear hot flashes continue, but my crazy running from task to task is slowing. i. must. not. stop. until house is done. guest room must be finished. guests coming in august.

this room (jax’s old room) is gonna be cool. i’m designing it for my daughter in law, mel (and matt). it’s gonna be a romantic, “girly” room. bill’s building a bed, a base for a cabinet, laying a new floor, painter’s coming at the end of the week. i have some furniture refinishing to do (a cabinet and a desk) and lots of shopping. i’ll take some pictures after and post the “before” pictures soon.

i’m also having a garage sale on the 22nd to clear the garage of all unnecessary items “found” in the big purge. my sister, pj, is planning to move to sarasota, florida, at the beginning of 2006, and so is in the middle of her own big purge, thus the garage is also holding a lot of her stuff to sell. i may have to take that whole week off to get the sale ready – lots to do.

matt’s 24th birthday was friday. bill and i spent a large part of that day quietly celebrating his birth and life ourselves. we are soooo lucky to have been given him to raise and love. he’s awesome. we went to columbus (bill, jax, and i) on the 3rd and met matt and mel for brunch and a dual celebration of both their birthdays. stuffed ourselves silly and had a great time. they are so happy and loving their life. everything just feels so right.

jax has a gig on friday at a local amvets club. we’re still waiting to see if they (amvets) will allow us to attend (we’re not members). can’t wait for that.

we met jax for coffee this morning at starbucks where he handed bill a load of laundry to do for him. heh. gotta love it.

i’ve got to get upstairs to finish cleaning out the vanity in the guest bathroom, but first I need to make sure bill doesn’t electrocute himself. HE’S CLEANING THE POOL. yikes.

Pear Elixir

The J-dogg asked me to buy him a bottle of Izze soda pop from Starbucks last night and stick it in the refrigerator. He said he'd stop by and pick it up.

It's still in the refrigerator where I left it. I want it. I want it bad. You know how I love pear. That's the flavor of the carbonated concoction -- Sparkling Pear.

How long must I wait before he is considered under international soda pop law to have abandoned his property rights in the pear-flavored effervescent elixir?

Not much longer, I'd say.

Task Order 89

Halliburton and its wholly-owned subsidiary, Kellogg, Brown, and Root, bilked the U.S. government out of about $1,400,000,000 (1 billion, 400 million American dollars) on contracts for rebuilding Iraq. This is the same company that bribed Nigerian government officials to get $4,000,000,000 ($4 billion American dollars) while Dick Cheney ran the company. Hmmm...

Not only did Halliburton get a new contract extension from the U.S. recently to do some work in Bosnia worth one and a quarter billion bucks ($1,250,000,000), in May, it received a no-bid contract to do more work for the American military over in Iraq. The contract went unannounced, that is, kept a secret. It is a $4,970,000,000 (five billion American dollars, give or take 30 mill) contract.

If you really want to be disgusted, take some time to read an article in the London Review of Books, which outlines an oversight committee's reports on profiteering from the war declared and waged on Iraq for no other reason than to get rid of Saddam Hussein, that is, to complete the unfinished business for George the First. Meanwhile, back in Afghanistan, the Taliban is making a comeback and Osama bin Laden (Remember him, George? Number 1 on the FBI's Most Wanted List) is still on the loose.

Wouldn't this money have been better spent in the War on Terror, maybe preventing the terrible events in Madrid last year and now London. Or fighting world hunger and disease, which probably would have convinced the rest of the people in the world that the United States of America is a pretty cool and decent country instead of a group of greedy bastards on a Crusade?

Democracy is a wonderful thing, isn't it, Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney?

Again, But I Have an Excuse

The J-dogg finally got his car back from the transmission place ... the third place to rebuild the transmission. He drove the car more miles today than he did the last five months. But this is not the story you want to hear.

We had a loaner car from the auto repair shop, a Buick something-or-other, like my mother used to drive. I wasn't really used to driving a car like that, let alone that car. You know ... you get a feel about how much gas is left in the tank, depending on how far below the "E" the needle is, and how far you can drive. Yeah, you do.

I guess I didn't have a feel for how far I could drive ... because I got to the corner and had to stop at the red light. One measly block to my left is the Shell station. I mean, I could see the gas station clearly. I could smell the gasoline. I had my left turn signal on. I was first in line at the light. What was it ... like about five more seconds at the light and then drive about 250 feet and pull into the station?

And then the car just stopped running and all the little idiot lights came on, like they were all screaming "IDIOT!" at me. I cranked it because there had to be some gas that condensed somewhere. Yeah, it worked. It started.

Hah! You thought that I was going to say that I ran out of gas. I slipped the car out of "P" and into "D," stepped on the gas. The light had turned red, but I thought, "Fuck it," in a Minnesota accent. I didn't have any time or precious fuel to waste just sitting there, waiting for the light to change.

The engine died. I could have thrown a rock and hit the fucking gas pumps. I was oh-so-close. If it was 75 degrees instead of like 95 degrees, I would have made it. There wouldn't have been that major amount of evaporation to fuck me up.

And it wasn't my car. I wasn't used to it. At least with the car from Enterprise, it had that message thingy that said "8 miles to E." And "Get gas, you fucking moron!"

So, it wasn't really me. Not my fault.

I know you're laughing, saying it was my fault; but you'd be wrong.

Basement Philosophy

I take the blame for all the stuff that accumulated in the basement over the past few years. I admit that my organizational skills have not been as keenly honed as they probably should be. Without casting aspersions, this deterioration in organizational skills could be due to a possible previously unknown organic side effect of Freon exposure caused by a ruptured refrigerant line when I was forced to remove a refrigerator from the basement a few years ago ... or it could be due to that very incident, psychologically-speaking now, in which I was held up to public ridicule when three police cruisers, the city fire department’s full complement of fire rescue units, and the regional haz-mat team arrived on the scene after someone in the house called 9-1-1 after I calmly asked, “Oops … er, can you go on the internet and find out if Freon is poisonous?” As an aside here, 42 police officers, firefighters, and paramedics arrived on the scene with all kinds of rescue gear, some thinking, for some reason, that I was trapped under a fallen refrigerator; and not one of those public servants offered to help me get the fucking refrigerator out of the basement.

So, suppressing my well-grounded, understandable fear of the basement, I distracted myself when I was cleaning the basement and getting rid of stuff that had accumulated over the years by letting my mind wander to other subjects. And one of those things that popped into my mind over the weekend, while picking up old stuff, carrying out trash and all, was … intelligent design.

And I got to thinking that this idea of intelligent design, which evolved so that religious fanatics could bring God into the public school classroom by claiming that intelligent design is some kind of science (when everybody who is anybody in the scientific world knows that the answer to every question one might conceivably have about the universe, life, and living comes down to one word, physics, but I leave that discussion for another day).

Intelligent design seems to be -- and I say "seems to be" because they keep changing the rhetoric -- based upon the notion that living things are too complex to have sprung up by what is basically chance, natural trial-and-error. The thinking is that there has to be this intelligent being out there which thought up all these animals, plants, one-celled organisms with organelles and mitochondria and stuff. That sounds very comforting -- kind of like God making the heaven and the earth and the rest of the stuff in six days, but without invoking God's name.

I'm not going to get all scientific right now to dispute "intelligent design" because as with all cockamamie beliefs that someone makes up as they go along, there’s an answer for every reasoned argument against the idea, whether grounded in reality or not.

I'm just going to point out that intelligent design is a pretty stupid idea.

Here's why. One word -- centipedes. No, two words … centipedes and millipedes.

Who the fuck could think of shit like this? And why? Intelligent design, my ass!

To Be Free

Private William Hoyt, Exeter, NH, and Private Sam Hamilton, Londonderry, NH, were killed in action, fighting for independence, on July 5, 1777, against the British.

In Iraq, 75 U.S. soldiers were killed in June in a war that Donald Rumsfeld said might go on for 10 or 12 years and which our Vice-President said was nearly over. What's the story?

SFC Virgil R. Case, 37, of Mountain Home, Idaho, died June 1 in Kirkuk* Spc. Phillip C. Edmundson, 22, of Wilson, N.C., died June 1 in Ar Ramadi*Pfc. Louis E. Niedermeier, 20, of Largo, Fla., died June 1 in Ar Ramadi*Cpl. Antonio Mendoza, 21, of Santa Ana, Calif., died June 3 at Brook Army Medical Center, San Antonio, from wounds received as a result of an explosion while conducting combat operations against enemy forces in Ar Ramadi on Feb. 22*Ms. Linda J. Villar, 41, of Franklinton, La., died June 3 in Baghdad*
Spc. Carrie L. French, 19, of Caldwell, Idaho, died June 5 in Kirkuk*Col. Theodore S. Westhusing, 44, of Dallas, Texas, died June 5 in Baghdad* Staff Sgt. Justin L. Vasquez, 26, of Manzanola, Colo., Spc. Eric J. Poelman, 21, of Racine, Wis., and Pfc. Brian S. Ulbrich, 23, of Chapmanville, W. Va., died on June 5 in Baghdad*Lance Cpl. Jonathan L. Smith, 22, of Eva, Ala., and Lance Cpl. Robert T. Mininger, 21, of Sellersville, Pa., died June 6 in Fallujah*Spc. Brian M. Romines, 20, of Simpson, Ill., died June 6 in Baghdad* Lt. Col. Terrence K. Crowe, 44, of New York, N.Y., died June 7 in Tal Afar*Spc. Eric T. Burri, 21, of Wyoming, Mich., died June 7 in Baghdad*Capt. Phillip T. Esposito, 30, of Suffern, N.Y., and 1st Lt. Louis E. Allen, 34, of Milford, Pa., died on June 8 in Tikrit, Iraq, of injuries sustained on June 7 in Tikrit*1st Lt. Michael J. Fasnacht, 25, of Columbus, Ga., died June 8 in Tikrit*Lance Cpl. Marc L. Tucker, 24, of Pontotoc, Miss., died June 8 in Asr Uranium*Pfc. Douglas E. Kashmer, 27, of Sharon, Pa., died June 8 in Nippur*Staff Sgt. Mark O. Edwards, 40, of Unicoi, Tenn., died June 9 near Tuz*Sgt. Roberto Arizola, Jr., 31, of Laredo, Texas, died June 8 in Baghdad*Lance Cpl. Dustin V. Birch, 22, of Saint Anthony, Idaho, Lance Cpl. Daniel Chavez, 20, of Seattle, Wash., Lance Cpl. Thomas O. Keeling, 23, of Strongsville, Ohio, Lance Cpl. Devon P. Seymour, 21, of St. Louisville, Ohio, and Cpl. Brad D. Squires, 26, of Middleburg Heights, Ohio, died June 9 in Haqlaniyah*Sgt. David J. Murray, 23, of Clinton, La., died June 9 in Baghdad*Lance Cpl. Mario A. Castillo, 20, of Brownwood, Texas, and Lance Cpl. Andrew J. Kilpela, 22, of Fowerville, Mich.,died June 10 in Saqlawiyah*Spc. Casey Byers, 22, of Schleswig, Iowa, and Sgt. 1st Class Neil A. Prince, 35, of Baltimore, Md., died June 11 in Al Taqaddum*
Sgt. Larry R. Arnold Sr., 46, of Carriere, Miss., and Spc. Terrance D. Lee Sr., 25, of Moss Point, Miss., both fathers, died on June 11 in Owesat Village*

Cpl. Stanley J. Lapinski, 35, of Las Vegas, Nev., died June 11 in Baghdad*Lance Cpl. John J. Mattek Jr., 24, of Stevens Point, Wis., died June 13 from wounds received as a result of an explosion while conducting combat operations against enemy forces in Al Anbar Province, Iraq, on June 8*Sgt. Larry R. Kuhns Jr., 24, of Austintown, Ohio, and Spc. Anthony D. Kinslow, 21, of Westerville, Ohio, died on June 13 in Ramadi*Pfc. Michael R. Hayes, 29, of Morgantown, Ky., died June 14 in Baghdad* Pfc. Joshua P. Klinger, 21, from Easton, Pa., died June 14 near Fallujah*Pfc. Nathan B. Clemons, 20, of Winchester, Tenn., died June 14 near Ar Rutbah*Sgt. Anthony G. Jones, 25, of Greenville, S.C., died June 14 in Baghdad*Lance Cpl. Chad B. Maynard, 19, of Montrose, Colo., died June 15 near Ar Ramadi*
Lance Cpl. Jonathan R. Flores, 18, of San Antonio, Texas, Cpl. Jesse Jaime, 22, of Henderson, Nev., Cpl. Tyler S. Trovillion, 23, of Richardson, Texas, and Lance Cpl. Dion M. Whitley, 21, of Los Angeles, Calif., died June 15 near Ar Ramadi*Petty Officer 2nd Class Cesar O. Baez, 37, of Pomona, Calif., died June 15 in al-Anbar Province*Lance Cpl. Erik R. Heldt, 26, of Hermann, Mo., and Capt. John W. Maloney, 36, of Chicopee, Mass., died June 16 near Ar Ramadi*1st Lt. Noah Harris, 23, of Ellijay, Ga., and Cpl. William A. Long, 26, of Lilburn, Ga., died on June 18 in Baqubah, Iraq, from injuries sustained on June 17 in Buritz*Master Sgt. Robert M. Horrigan, 40, of Austin, Texas, and Master Sgt. Michael L. McNulty, 36, of Knoxville, Tenn., died on June 17 in Al Qaim*Lance Cpl. Adam J. Crumpler, 19, from Charleston, W.Va., died June 18 in Karabilah*Pfc. Christopher R. Kilpatrick, 18, of Columbus, Texas, died June 20 in Tal Afar*Sgt. James D. Stewart, 29, of Chattanooga, Tenn., died June 21 in Ar Rutbah*Spc. Nicholas R. Idalski, 23, of Crown Point, Ind., died June 21 in Ramadi*Spc. Christopher L. Hoskins, 21, of Danielson, Conn., and Spc. Brian A. Vaughn, 23, of Pell City, Ala., died on June 21 in Ramadi*Sgt. Arnold Duplantier II, 26, of Sacramento, Calif., died June 22 in Baghdad*Sgt. Joseph M. Tackett, 22, of Whitehouse, Ky., died June 23 in Baghdad*
Lance Cpl. Holly A. Charette, 21, from Cranston, R.I., Cpl. Ramona M. Valdez, 20, of Bronx, N.Y., Pfc. Veashna Muy, 20, of Los Angeles, Calif., and Cpl. Chad W. Powell, 22, of West Monroe, La., died June 23 in Fallujah*
Petty Officer 1st Class Regina R. Clark, 43, of Centralia, Wash., who had an 18-year-old son, died June 23 in Fallujah*Sgt. 1st Class Christopher W. Phelps, 39, of Louisville, Ky., died June 23 in Baghdad*Cpl. Carlos Pineda, 23, Los Angeles, Calif., died June 24 in Fallujah* Spc. Charles A. Kaufman, 20, of Fairchild, Wis., died June 26 in Baghdad*Chief Warrant Officer Keith R. Mariotti, 39, of Texas, and Chief Warrant Officer Steven E. Shepard, 30, of Purcell, Okla., died on June 27 near Taji, Iraq, where their AH-64D Apache helicopter crashed*2nd Lt. Matthew S. Coutu, 23, of North Kingstown, R.I., died June 27 in Baghdad* Spc. Robert E. Hall Jr., 30, of Pittsburgh, Pa., died June 28 in Ad Dujayl*Sgt. Manny Hornedo, 27, of Brooklyn, N.Y., died June 28 in Tikrit

And in Afghanistan, the death toll reached 250 U.S. troops since the war started there, and the man President Bush promised to get is still on the loose:

On June 28, these U.S. soldiers died when a MH-47D Chinook helicopter was shot down while trying to reinforce a U.S. reconnaissance team near Asadabad, Afghanistan, in Kunar Province:

Chief Petty Officer Jacques J. Fontan, 36, New Orleans*Staff Sgt. Shamus O. Goare, 29, Danville, OH*Chief Warrant Officer Corey J. Goodnature, 35, Clarks Grove, MN*Senior Chief Petty Officer Daniel R. Healy, 36, Exeter, NH*Sgt. Kip A. Jacoby, 21, Pompano Beach, FL*Lt. Cmdr. Erik S. Kristensen, 33, San Diego*Petty Officer 1st Class Jeffery A. Lucas, 33, Corbett, OR*Lt. Michael M. McGreevy Jr., 30, Portville, NY*Sgt. 1st Class Marcus V. Muralles, 33, Shelbyville, IN*Petty Officer 2nd Class Eric S. Patton, 22, Boulder City, NV*Master Sgt. James W. Ponder III, 36, Franklin, TN*Maj. Stephen C. Reich, 34, Washington Depot, CT*Sgt. 1st Class Michael L. Russell, 31, Stafford, VA*Chief Warrant Officer Chris J. Scherkenbach, 40, Jacksonville, FL*Petty Officer 2nd Class James Suh, 28, Deerfield Beach, FL*Petty Officer 1st Class Jeffrey S. Taylor, 30, Midway, WV

Maj. Duane W. Dively, 43, Rancho California, CA, died June 22 when his U-2 Dragon Lady reconnaissance and surveillance aircraft crashed while returning to Al Dhafra Air Base in the United Arab Emirates after completing a mission over Afghanistan*Spc. Anthony S. Cometa, 21, Las Vegas, died June 16 when his Humvee rolled over in Safwan, Kuwait*Staff Sgt. Christopher N. Piper, 43, Marblehead, MA, Died on June 16, 2005, at Brooke Army Medical Center, Fort Sam Houston, Texas, from wounds sustained on June 3 when a roadside bomb detonated near his Ground Mobility Vehicle in Orgun-e, Afghanistan*Sgt. 1st Class Victor H. Cervantes, 28, Stockton, CA, died June 11 of wounds sustained during combat operations while on patrol with Afghan security forces in Afghanistan's Paktika province*Pfc. Emmanuel Hernandez, 22, Yauco, PR, and Sgt. Michael J. Kelley, 26, Scituate, MA, were killed in Shkin, Afghanistan, by enemy fire on June 8 at a helicopter landing zone*Staff Sgt. Leroy E. Alexander, 27, Dale City, VA, was killed June 3 by a bomb near Orgun-e, Afghanistan.

A Nickel's Worth

The government has come out with new $100 bills, new 50's, and new 20's to much fanfare and a large advertising budget. The new quarters, one designed by each state in the union, created quite a stir in numismatic circles. And it certainly seems to me that nobody likes the idea of $1 coins, except for me. I ask for some Sacajawea dollars when I go to the bank and cash a check.

Have you seen the new nickels? The U.S. Mint introduced the new coin without a lot of fanfare. It's got Jefferson in part profile on the "heads" side, instead of the full profile.

And on the "tails" side? Well, that's a buffalo. And the buffalo does have a tail, but it also has a ... penis. Eeeeeeww! A penis! Although I don't really care about it, some adults might be offended when a kid on the street says, "Hey, Wally! I'll flip you for it. Heads or cocks?"

Where are the people who made a big deal about a television commercial with a woman dropping her towel in a locker room (I didn't see it; so, I don't know what it showed.)? They're walking around with buffalo penis nickels in their politically-correct, morally-superior pockets and purses, and they aren't saying a fucking word about it. Who's in change over there at the Parents Television Council? Is it only television about which you are concerned? Shouldn't you be worried about bringing filth into your homes in your very own pockets and pocketbooks? What are we to think when our children ask us for a nickel?

And what kind of statement have cocksure U.S. government officials made when they authorized the design and minting of jillions of Buffalo Penis Nickels ... or is someone going to say, "Is that really a penis? How could I know that? Isn't a buffalo's dick much larger?"