I am officially back to work and I am beat. It’ll take me a good week or so to get back into the routine and return to my usual hyperactive self. The routine in and of itself is a bit of a hump, but it sure keeps me motoring long and hard. I’m up before the roosters, pedaling the Hummer before the Sun comes up, working all day long and then humping that Hummer back to the adobe. Be it rain, snow, shine or remnants of a hurricane, I’m a humpin’ one way or another. And that’s the way I like it--lean and mean. Mostly lean.
This is a freakin‘ hoot. Chia Kev, a.k.a. Kevin Lynn, called the Rush Limbaugh show and attempted to make mincemeat out of Rush “live” on talk radio. He failed in his misguided quest, but did manage to get the usually respectful Limbaugh to refer to the Chia Kev as a “wiseass.” A wiseass? How long as Chia Kev been collecting social security now? Wiseass is a not a word normally associated with grumpy senior citizens that hit the liquor cabinet well before dinner, but Chia Kev is a special case. Wiseass? Spank that Chia, spank, spank, spank..
This is totally in keeping with Chia Kev’s usual routine, which is making it up as he goes while he lectures all of us on what constitutes being a responsible citizen, or a thinking man.
He tells us to keep our traps shut if we don’t vote, but one trip to the courthouse proved he rarely does as he would have us asume he does. He doesn’t vote, so who is he to judge any of us for not doing so?
If a “right-leaning” caller bemoans a possible tax increase, or a potential drain on finite resources for bleeding heart causes near and dear to the hearts of bed-wetters like Chia, he deflects their legitimate arguments--he disarms them--by saying he’s willing to pay even more taxes to help the (pick a slacker group). Yet, that same trip to the county courthouse suggests that he doesn’t pay any appreciable taxes at all.
But this phone call to Rush Limbaugh is the biggest boner yet coming from “the man who knows everything, but stands for nothing,” as Private Sector Dude once astutely opined.
If I had a dime for every time Chia Kev accused those “knuckle draggers” who dared to disagree with him of needing Rush to tell them what to think, I’d buy his house from his parents and make him my official Chia Pet. If you dare take offense to his self-styled genius, you’re a “drooler,” a “knuckle dragger,” or someone prone to cruising trailer parks for sex, or thrice-used car parts. Cross the great Chia Kev and you’re instantly lower than an unregistered repeat serial killer who prays to Rush too much. But worse of all, worse of all, if you espouse anything that sounds remotely conservative, well, then he’s gonna out you as one too completely dumb to function without Rush’s guidance right before he hangs up on you.
He has also gone on the record as saying he could care less what Rush Limbaugh has to say on any given day, or any given issue. And he has said many, many, many times that he never listens to Rush Limbaugh.
But, as we now know, he was being less than truthful with all of that--as per usual. At this point, will the real Chia Kev please stand up? Well, that’s assuming there really is anything of note under that neatly trimmed green beard. Near as I can figure, his most noteworthy accomplishment seems to be having a bar stool reserved for him eight days a week.
This is funny. And profoundly sad. I found out about this by listening to Sue Henry the day afterwards. Get this Chia: I didn’t know about your call because I was not listening to Rush when you took it upon yourself to raid the liquor cabinet and call him. I wasn’t listening to Rush, but you were. You were. No, no, you never listen to Rush let alone care about what he has to say. But you called him. You were listening to him. Yet another recorded untruth coming from the biggest bullsh*tter that the local media outlets have to offer.
So, who’s the knuckle dragger now?
See what happens when we get to bitching about things we don’t know about? A while back it was thrown in my face that the city, apparently, wasn’t enforcing it’s own ordinance whereby property owners were supposed to remove graffiti vandalism from their properties in a timely manner. After being presented with what seemed like facts, I came pretty close to chiming in. And then we found out why some of it wasn’t being removed in a timely manner.
From The Times Leader:
WILKES-BARRE – It started with an image captured on a surveillance camera and a tip leading detectives to the Internet.
Nine months later, after detectives pursued their investigation through a network of friends on MySpace.com, city police filed 57 vandalism-related charges against 10 alleged graffiti artists.
Police on Monday charged eight adults and two juveniles who they say are responsible for a combined $140,000 in damages.
Get them bounty hunters off to Arizona right quick. The girl who would “destroy Wilkes-Barre? As if. Forego the fines and such and demand that her parents make up for twenty years totally devoid of a good old-fashioned spanking.
I may be an imperfect person, but I’m proud to say that my kid didn’t make that bold claim and then post evidence of his crimes against Wilkes-Barre on the internet. Twerp.
You know, when Ebon built her teeny bopper web site, she made reference to her “homies” in the “hood” and I was on her like one of Skreps immediate underlings on a $10,000 pay raise.
Do you talk like that!?! Do you process your thoughts like that!?! No??? Then fu>king change it!!!
A touchy feely parental democracy this adobe ain’t.
I was very annoyed to hear people on WILK today referring to these losers as “artists.” Sorry, but spraying letters on buildings does not require any talent on the part of the losers. But it does strongly suggest that the losers have no respect for anyone, or their property. There is little difference between defacing public and private property by way of a paint can than there is to toss a rock through a plate glass window. It causes costly damage, damage that everyone in the surrounding community demands be fixed almost immediately. These are not artists, these are criminals who started small and obviously revel in their criminality.
There’s gotta be a way we can legally tar and feather them on Public Square at high noon. How ‘bout if we call it art, and the perpetrators artists? I’ll do it. What’s that chicks name who coordinates special events for the city? Hell, I’ll buy the tar, if she’ll pay for the cans of sterno.
Somebody was supposed to send me a copy of the mayor’s press release, but, alas, it ain’t here. So much for having sources.
Which leads me back to Chia Kev. So far, ten graffiti criminals have been identified and are being rounded up. And not all of the graffiti happened in Wilkes-Barre. Many other nearby communities were victimized by the MySpace.com Gang. So the arrests were good news for not only Wilkes-Barre, but every other community within earshot. And how did the serial fibber react?
He took issue with Tom Leighton’s, as Chia put it, “Putting the hammer down.” And, he went on to remind his listeners that “the ‘I Believe’ thing wasn’t handled so well.” Those are both direct quotes.
So, as you can see, no matter what good goes on in Wilkes-Barre, the serial fibber, Chia Kev, will always find a way to spin it in a negative light. In my mind, he owes us a public apology. And this, after he lied about the 2004 St. Patty’s Day Parade when he told his listeners “there were hundreds in attendance in front of vacant and collapsing buildings.” He obviously can’t count correctly, or refuses to when he comes to Wilkes-Barre. But I’m wondering when it was that a building last collapsed on Public Square.
So, who’s the knuckle dragger now?
By the way, Mayor Tom Leighton will be making an appearance on The Sue Henry Show this Thursday, but if she said at what time he‘s scheduled to appear, I sure missed it.
Santorum vs. Casey? Dude, in my mind, that’s about as exciting as being repeatedly raped by a troop of new-styled A.C.L.U. Boy Scouts of Amerika. No matter who wins, I’ll be no better off. Possibly worse off. They’re both cookie cutter candidates towing their party lines. I’ll stick to watching my pebbles grow into mighty, mighty stones.
That video is long. I watched it until they got into the interview phase. Much of it is easily refutable, but who’s got the time? It is kind of slick and sure to suck in a few more of the dimwitted running loose amongst us, though.
My new truck?
You’re messed-up. But you did manage to crack me up.
I know I could get hurt for such a thing in this town, but I couldn’t resist.
Happy Irish Day!!!
It‘s become painfully obvious to me that very many of my family members, friends, sometime acquaintances and co-workers are collectivity wishing the Times Leader’s Jon Fox ill after he published what he published about me. The consensus seems to be that he did a hatchet job on me. The entire lot of them know full well that I could care less, but still want to see him come down with some sort of rare disease that even lepers would be horrified by.
Yet, here’s what another newspaper writer had to say:
Wilkes-Barre man blogs in his underwear: "It’s just after noon and Mark Cour has newspapers strewn on the floor around his bare feet. There’s an ashtray full of cigarette butts near his computer monitor and a can of Genny Light beer set on a coaster."
Easily the Best. Lead. Ever.
So, even if it came off sounding as if Lonesome Cowboy Mark the real-life inbred hillbilly goes by the name of Mark Cour when he gets to scribblin’ some, others may have liked it for whatever reasons still totally unbeknownst to me.
Here’s the best one I heard: If he shows up at the effing block party, I’m going to…(deleted).
Note to writers: Be careful about who’s wood-paneling you mention. Some don’t take too kindly to that.
Whatever. No big thang. Those that know me already know no side-windin’ reporter from no big city newspaper is gonna get me all riled up like. Ain’t no reason to get to fixin’ to bendin’ him over a log, or no such thang. I dun give it no mind, so swill your swill and let ‘im live.
Opal!!! Where in tarnation is my goll danged banjo, woman?
Check this out:
I’m down wit dat sh*t, yo? Can’t stop this, cops or no cops. Day my dogs, man! Chill fools!!!