Yep. A table. I'm going to let that sink in a little.
Watch the video of the police chief for more hilarity. Just watch it, so you can tell your grandkids you've actually seen another human being say the sentence "He was completely nude, and he used the hole for the umbrella to have sex with the table."
Some of you may be thinking that it's a victimless crime, or that the table was asking for it because she was wearing a short skirt.
To begin with, I'm not even sure how to report something like that. If I ever see a guy having sex with a picnic table, I wouldn't know whether I should call the cops, or the sheriff, or a park ranger.
I think the wife should have known. When he cancelled his subscription to Playboy and started disappearing into the bathroom with the Ikea catalog, she should have figured something was up.
It's come to my attention that my website isn't as high in the search engines, and thus doesn't get as much traffic as others, because I have elected not to have links to every awful website, link farm, and spam factory littering my pages. Somehow, the fact that I ignored a link request from sites like EskimoGoatSx.com is hurting my ability to attract new readers.
Here's my offer, if you're a reader of ReidAboutIt and have a website and I'm not already linking to you, just make a comment to this blog and I'll add a link to you both here and at my sports-related sarcasm site, Fistful of Sports.com. Please link to me at both sites, also.
Apparently, being linked on a bunch of pages is the best thing in the world for a website, better than regular updates, funny content, and pictures of Jenna Jameson all rolled together. Being linked on other pages drives traffic, stimulates the economy, and helps keep the democracy alive. Proper linkage means more page views, easy weight loss, and male enhancement.
Drop me a line. We bloggers are all in this together.
By the way, today's picture of Jenna Jameson? Yes, it was a totally gratuitous plug for traffic. Please don't think ill of me.
Now, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Clinton pardoned 456 people, and Reagan 406, so Bush isn't much of a pardoner. What I'm amazed about is the people who are given clemency.
Look at the list of people he took the time to let off the hook. There's a guy in New Jersey who got five years of probation in 1958 for unlawful delay of the mail by a postal employee. A gentleman from Florida made a false statement in 1968 trying to get a Federal Housing Administration loan. And my personal favorites, two guys in Colorado who got three years probation for "selling migratory bird parts in violation of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act."
One-time cads and scofflaws all, I'm sure, but why are these people bothering their elected officials with requests to be absolved from crimes they've already served their time for? I seriously doubt when one of these guys move into a new neighborhood in Colorado, they have to go register on the "Migratory Bird Treaty Act Offenders" list.
Come on, the postal employee has to be in his seventies by now, and he's been in the clear since before JFK died, for crying out loud. Let it go, sir. Once upon a time in the 60's, you were holding out on somebody's "Boy's Life" magazine and got caught. You've done your hard time on probation, and probably haven't so much as swiped a coupon circular since then. We've all forgiven you.
As for the guy in Florida who lied to get a home loan, it was 1968. Chances are, he's been able to save up enough to get a place of his own by now.
What is the rationale for pardoning people who have already served their probations and gone on with their lives? We're not pulling people off of death row with new DNA evidence here, we're just pretending Grandpa didn't get fired from his job as a mailman back before we were all born.
The new Popcast is up, where I talk about the moral outrage of paying $3+ for a gallon of gas, and how it might turn me into one of those guys with the funny helmets that rides a bike everywhere and always smells like the outdoors. Also, we'll discuss the prospect of a new "90210" and how hard it is to not stay current on "Lost."
Greater detail and even more sarcasm available on the PopCast.
Forgive me, friends, I have fallen prey to peer pressure. Long having been a staunch advocate of the dark, bubbly, carbonated beverages, I succumbed to temptation and bought for the first time, a "fruit smoothie."
A guy from work was going to pick up some for everybody else, so I said sure, I'll try one. I had no idea what to order, so I just said "whatever you guys are having."
He returned with 40 ounces of an alleged beverage with some strange name that implied health and energy, like "Big Range Extremejello" or "PowerPunchPummelPants" or something.
To begin with, it's not exactly a beverage. It's neither solid nor liquid, closer to some form of plasma. I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to expel this matter from my body.
The taste was hard to describe, it seemed to be made up of every fruit imaginable mixed in random amounts. Then, add bark, leaves, shell, stem, and roots, and you've got health, my friend. It tasted like I was trying to drink 40 ounces of rain forest.
The first taste was quizzical, and unpleasant. It got slightly better as I tried again and again, pausing only to chew back another mouthful, and examine my mouth for the leftover pieces of debris.
So I drank what I thought was plenty, only to open the lid and find out I had only finished about a third of it. The final part of the smoothie I used later to mortar some bricks into a retaining wall I'm building.
I know everybody else in the world loves these things, I just don't get it. Anytime I pay eight dollars for a drink, I don't expect it to have bits of bark and leaves in it, and I imagine it would at least taste pleasant. I need some bubbles in my beverage. A friend of mine loves them, she says she drinks them instead of meals sometimes. I can only assume that's because by the time you finish chewing down this smoothie, you've finished a drink, a meal, and a workout.
Next time, I'll just drink a 40 ounce can of paint, it's cheaper, and actually smoother.
The new Popcast is up, and this week, it's all about sex. When the biggest site on the internet is a My Space account for a prostitute and alleged singer, the PopCast has to follow right along. I also throw in a little Michael Jackson and Hulk Hogan, just to prove I still love the 80s.
Greater detail and even more sarcasm available on the PopCast.
Random thoughts while waiting in line at the deli counter...
11 Different Kinds of Ham: It's all made from the same pig. Once you get it on bread and cover it with mustard and cheese, will even the most discerning pallet be able to decide which is sugar-baked honey ham, and which one is light glazed smoked ham? If you're going to have ham for lunch, just pick a brand and eat it. Don't try and sexy up a simple foodstuff. It's a snack, it's not the DaVinci Code.
Ham & Cheese Loaf: How lazy can we get? If you've reached the point where you'll pay extra to have a stranger assemble your ham and your cheese to make your sandwich, maybe you could use the exercise of constructing the snack yourself.
Liver Loaf: Incomprehensible that this product would be on the market. The single most maligned food on the planet, and they try and make it more attractive by making it look like ham surrounded by a thick layer of lard.
Souse Loaf: What the Hell is this? What kind of animal is "souse"? Is it a biped? Is it dangerous? And what's so important about letting us know there's "gelatin added"?
Cotto Salami: Not sure what "cotto" is. Why couldn't they just say "Salami with green crap floating in it"? On second thought, maybe that's not the best marketing ploy. See? I'm always willing to listen to a better idea.
Smokin' Chipotle Turkey: Ah, chipotle, the white whale of foods. We needed to make up a new kind of food to get everybody interested again, so we came up with "chipotle". Before that, it was "angus," and "tilapia." Nobody grew up fishing for tilapia. Nobody had even heard of tilapia until about a year ago, and now you can't get through Luby's without somebody throwing one on your plate.
Luncheon Loaf: This is truly scary. No one really knows what this is. It's pretty vague. It's like when McDonalds offers you a "Fillet O'Fish", and since it's only two bucks, nobody ever stops to ask just exactly what kind of "fish" they're eating. Same thing with Luncheon Loaf. To begin with, "luncheons" are never pleasant. Lunch is a meal. A "luncheon" is a social gathering, where people pretend they always get dressed up to eat at eleven in the morning, and are forced to try and make a meal out of salad and finger sandwiches while some uninteresting speaker drones on about some charity project that could easily be attained if everyone in the room would simply donate their money to the cause instead of spending it on awful meals like the one they're eating. They would never serve "luncheon loaf" at an actual luncheon.
I think that's a great idea. However, most of my friends, loved ones, and people I'd love to complain about all read my blog, so I'm not going to do that. Instead, here are my Top Ten things I'd like to say to certain famous people.
You are the fattest person to ever write a bestselling diet book. You should wash Oprah's car for everything she's done for you.
It doesn't matter how many strippers VH1 tries to set you up with, the bandana and the cowboy hat are still a dead giveaway that you're going bald.
I don't really remember your dad from the OJ trial, but your appeal seems to be centered directly around your enormous garbonzos, and that's okay with me.
Why can't you just release that one good album you do every four years, and not record the three shitty ones you do in the interim?
Just because you do a great John Madden impersonation doesn't mean you can carry a whole half-hour TV show.
On behalf of the rest of America, we only like your movies when you're playing a baseball player.
When people come to your show and you don't give them stuff, they're disappointed.
You will either be a legendary singer or a hilarious burnout, and I honestly can't decide which one would be more fascinating to watch.
You're one of the richest men on Earth and you have your own TV show, so I'm going to assume you wear your hair in such a comical fashion to distract us from something else.
Just because you've restarted your career by replaying your characters from the 80s, please don't take that as a sign we want you to make "Stop! Or My Mom Will Keep Shooting!"
The new Popcast is up, and thanks to yesterday's blog on Patrick Swayze, today I spend way too much time talking about "Dirty Dancing," and how at this point in my life, I am fully behind the concept of putting baby in the corner. Also, why "Lost" keeps making me feel stupid, and perhaps the reason why "Dirt!" didn't do so well this time around. Hint: A main character talks to cats, and they answer him.
Greater detail and even more sarcasm available on the PopCast.
I think everybody from the 80s is kind of feeling this one. I'm a big fan of Zen, so Swayze's movies hold a special place in my heart, regardless of their quality.
As I've written here quite often, "Road House" is my favorite bad movie ever. It's so blessedly bad, with its lines like "be nice" and "I used to @#^# guys like you in prison," I can't help but watch it. It makes me wonder if the people who were making "Road House" were trying to make the worst good movie ever, or the best bad movie ever. I always watch it as the latter.
Face it, Swayze is the world's greatest fighter, lover, doctor, philosopher, mechanic, tai chi practitioner, knife thrower, psychiatrist, judge of character, and has perfect hair at all times. How can you not root for him against the forces of evil?
Thanks to Spike TV, Versus, and the entire Encore cadre of channels, "Road House" is always on and I'm a sucker for it every time.
After that, Swayze did the other side of Zen, as surfmaster Bodhi in "Point Break." Swayze was the Bodhisattva, the enlightened being. Ponder if you will, the irony of Swayze extolling the virtues of "the gift of blankness" to Keanu Reeves. I think Keanu said "Whoa," and just ran with that concept.
It's almost enough to make up for his turn as a toe-hopping child molester in "Dirty Dancing."
I don't know any witty way to start off this story, but a man was arrested for having sex with a table.
