Big Butt

Delvin, a  friend of mine.

He loves big butts, not your Jennifer Lopez butt, no, "the have to turn sideways getting off the bus" butt.  He is Pavlovian about "can't ride in cars with bucket seats" booty.  He was arrested once for grabbing a handful of tush at the local Wally-world.  It is a disorder of some kind I am quite sure.  Anyway, he is also prone to exaggeration, I thought until he explained why his head was always turned out a little bit on his neck.   You have to understand, Delvin is a little guy, five foot three, 125 pounds constipated.

He explains:  I had this girlfriend, she was really fine and had this awesome abnormally huge butt.  It was all muscle too.  I think she invented the Thong because her underwear always had to be up her ass because that was the only way they would fit.  One day while I was lying down on the couch minding my own business, she walked past me, well, that gorgeous thing was about an inch from my face and I decided to bite that booty.  I grabbed them hips and opened my mouth and took a big bite.  Well, it must have startled her because she let out a yell and stumbled back falling on me pinning me to the couch.  This seemed to be real close to heaven until I realized she was too damn big to get her ass off my face.  She could not get up.  She was screamin and kicking around.  I tried to push her off but my hands just disappeared in that butt.  My elbows would sink into the couch when I pushed.  I could not breath or even close my mouth.  My jaw was hurting and I was almost out of air.  I used my last breath to yell but the sound was absorbed by that big ole Christmas package.  I remember gasping for air and waking up on the floor.  The coffee table was broke, Pancake her 14 year old cat was dead and my neck hurt like a mofo.  She said I got this super human mother strength, like a mother gets when her child is stuck under a car well, she said I just launched her across the room landing on the cat sleeping on the now crushed coffee table. 

Well, he said his neck has been crooked every since that day.  Delvin and Regina broke up a while later.  She never got over the death of Pancake and how was she going to explain the scars on her ass.  It looked like a dentist X-ray on her butt.  Delvin was sharp enough to take pictures of the cat, the coffee table and the booty.  For a little guy, he had a huge bite.  It did look like an x-ray on an elephant. 

Friday Science: Hormones

How do you make a hormone, don't pay her.

Our ugly dog has his balls dangling for another week and then the N word.  There have been two female dogs in the neighborhood that have been inviting him over for a little action.  The problem is his stupidity.  He forgets where he lives, he whines all the time and he fights with dogs bigger than him. Betty Lou is getting out tonight

The vet, a neutered beast himself with chubby cheeks and a thinning hairline said, "I don't know if that will calm him down or not".  I said "Well, you can crack him on the head while you have him under anesthesia if you want?, maybe that will work".  This week he is much more calm and not whining at all so a smack in the head is probably not warranted.

Hormones are really cool.  Ask Barry and Manny, it cooled off their baseball retirements.  I will wager people will be discovering new hormones (biologically active chemicals) for hundreds of years.  They are fractal and fractals keep going and going. 

The Constitution: The sixth amendment

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence

This needs  no explanation.  It is such a part of our way of life that I forget that many places on earth have none of these rights.  


In many places, people are accused, tried,convicted and shot and have no idea why.  That blows the big chunks.


I suppose the people in CIA prisons are wondering if they will ever get a trial.  Most will just be let go one day. 


In the bygones past, arrests, trials and hanging  took place in days.  Now, whomever does not want to go to trial, the defense or the prosecution can delay a trial for years.  The lawyers win those trials.  Justice loses.


I figure that I will lose any trial I am in because I just don't care to fight it.  I nor any lawyer I know is Clarence Darrow and well, the laws are not just, they are legalities.  That is how they got around the sixth amendment.  We can't blame Bush for that one.

Breaking News

In a lake town down south, several locomotives have been seen pouching on a train.  They have been identified as Diesel Ten and Percy.  They bullied up on a blue tank engine named Thomas and broke his smoke box.  The once mild-mannered Percy was convicted of mishandling Annie and Clarabel on a trip to the other side of the Island and spend time in the mines for it.  Diesel Ten has a long history of being a bad engine.  They were last seen with the Troublesom Trucks hanging down by the quarry.

Really, I could not make this stuff up.  

The Player: Tiger gets a Tale

Tiger Woods to see Mr. Reynolds.  He is expecting me.

Tiger stands there in the lobby of the Cannonball Run Studios looking at all the movie posters with his tattered copy of "Players for Dummies" under his arm.  He blurts out, "The Tiger is impressed!"

"Not bad, Huh"  quips Reynolds who just enters from a door stage left.  Tiger is startled.  And Oh, that book is not approved reading for beginner players, it is a rip off of Clinton's book "How to be a Player for Morons".

Tiger:  Thanks for seeing me Mr. Reynolds, I did not know where to turn.  You see, they pulled my card and I cannot get cruise discounts or invites to the sponsored parties and all that.    Shiiitt!
Burt:  Hah, there is plenty of time for that.  Do you want to see some more posters?  This was the canoe from Deliverance.
Tiger walks over and looks in the door Mr. Reynolds came through.  "Its a closet!"
Burt:  Yeh, hah, Remember, an actor always needs to make a good entrance.  Now, how can I help you?  Oh, yeh, the Card.  Well, most people kinda figure it out along the way but, I guess you did not have a mentor, and with butt-loads of money, well, yeh, hah, it is all good.
Tiger:  What?
Burt:  See, officially, you are not a Player until you get married because, well,  just because. Where did you get your card?
Tiger:  Anika!
Burt:  Come again? leaning his head to the side like Ole Blue the Bloodhound.
Tiger:  Anika Sorenstam, she gave it to me.
Burt:  Oh, hah, that reminds me, wants some nuts?
Tiger:  Nuts?
Burt:  Boiled peanuts, yeh, they are great, when I was at FSU, I lived on these things. Hah, hah, lets look at your file.  (flipping through the two pages and looking intently up and down furrowing his brow erratically) Yeh, Daily said you took it pretty hard when he tore it up in front of you.  It was supposed to be dramatic.  This is serious stuff, Playing I mean.
Tiger:  Two years is a long time few mistakes of protocol.
Burt:  Well, I talked with Bjorn (Supreme Player Borg) yesterday on that very subject.  He had dinner with your ex-wife the other day and he said she is one fine "hamreklocka".  heh, yeh, ah, I can fit you in a mentoring class.  It is for newbies.  It is  seven straight evenings, some videos with dos and don'ts. 
Tiger:  Evenings?
Burt:  Four hours a night.  We don't want you running out trying to play during the training.  You will be in a shaky state of mind.  They have a standard to uphold.  You had your card without any training at all.  It is a wonder you lasted as long as you did.
Tiger:  OK, I am in.  Is that it?
HeBurt:  h, hah, no, what, Oh,  yeh, Just remember, Bitches are like universes, if they run into each other, they explode and your toast!    See ya Sunday for orientation.

Last week

Last week, the blog was on the fritz.  I could not post anything.  I was cyberscrewed.  I think often about what actually could happen if communications as we now know it would get interupted.  I assume the people that know how it all works can keep it going. I know that satallites are involved and solar flares can damage them.  We are heading into an active cylce on the sun.  When I was a kid growing up in central Florida, There were fires all the time.  Rarely did they effect anything, same with hurricanes.  Now there are four times as many people in central Florida and they live where all those fires used to go.  I think it is the same with the solar winds.  Now days everything related to communication has to do with satellites and can we always expect the powers to take care of it all?

 We are bent over screwed.  

How Far the Finish Line

I remember wondering how far the finish line when I had to run ten miles for fumbling a football during the homecoming game.  What happened was while we were running on the field at the beginning of the game and as I broke through the banner that said "Redmen are the Best", creative I know,  I dropped the football.  Lance Matheson kicked it and it went into a flood ditch.  We had to use the visiting teams football for the game.  The other football we had would not hold air because the rodeo club borrowed it.  Scott Burns, the quarterback refused to use the plays the coach sent in and we were penalized almost every play on defense. We had 235 yards in penalties and we missed seven field goals.  In all fairness to our kicker who was a 4'8" Nigerian soccer player who we called Bassy, three of the attempts were from over sixty yards away.  He did not understand the game but boy could he kick.  The coach lost his mind and had a nervous breakdown.  He was the art teacher and he started eating the paint and mumbling something about shooting Delta rabbits.  We had a six hour practice that Monday after homecoming and I had to run the hill for fumbling.  I tried to explain that the game technically had not even started.   Our former AirBorne Ranger assistant coach said "The football is your life, it will save the life of you and your squad.  Keep it clean and learn to disarm the quarterback with it".  I think he got in the lead paint also.

Anyway, for me the finish line is always reachable whether it was at the end of the runway of the Cedar Air port or getting through high school or most likely college.  I would not excel at football, high school, college or even life.  Just reaching the finish line was good enough for me.  It has always been way out there, the finish line I mean.  Just knowing it was there somewhere was good enough.  Heaven is that way I think.  Now, I can see the finish line through the fog of time.  I wonder if it will feel as good as getting back to the school yard did.  

Legend of a Fall

I was actually working Sunday afternoon and while walking back down the long driveway with my sweet SRM-210 Echo weed whacker balanced in one hand.  I stopped and picked up a long stick lying in the yard.  I somehow got the stick between my legs sending me head over heals while trying to save my $200 weed whacker from annihilation.  My face was most important though, not because I am a movie star or anything, I just do not like things hitting my face really hard.  

I do not remember the next few seconds.   My next memory was tumbling.  Not tumbling like a kid on a school mat but tumbling which confirms that inertia is not the friend of a 52 year old overweight land baron.  I cannot even call it "head over heels" because if possible my head and my heels were sort of oozing or cytoplasmodial streaming in the same direction at the same time yet I remember tumbling.  When I opened my eyes (I always close my eyes when I fall, it is more exciting that way and It hurts less) I was staring up, I know "up" because the sky was blue on this day.  I took a quick inventory and nothing seemed cut, broken or pointing the wrong way.  There was no pain. 

I spent the next few instances wondering if anyone had seen me try to gracefully sweep the driveway with my face or if they had, did they film it by change.   I did not hear laughing nor did I hear anything actually.  This event was all mine to do with it what I wanted.  I knew there would be some discomfort tomorrow because the force of 1 or 2 G's was enough to activate my Delayed Memory Hysteria.  DMH is when you fear how you will feel in the morning although you are alright now.  Too much alcohol and car crashes are the most common triggers for DMH.

Anyway, today, my left shoulder and arm are sore.  Nothing to get hysterical about.  I told my wife and daughter, still laughing?  Yep.

The Constitution: The Fifth Amendment

Now, this is the meat of free men every where.

No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

they say this comes from English common law and the Magna Carta.  I think they still teach the Magna Carta in school.  It is the foundation of civilization like the Clovis's point and beer.  It seems so simple.  I pleaded No Contest once.  I was not saying I was guilty but you can punish me if you want.  I think Judges like to throw big ass books at No Contest pleaders.  Two weekends in the poky and 100 hours community service for peeing on the a street signs.  My initial defense was, "Dogs do it"  The judge said, Dogs are stupid! They cannot help themselves.  Would I like to change my plea?  I could see his line of thinking and I remembered what my Dad always said, "If you don't know what you are talking about, stop talking.


1.  You do not have to tell on yourself. Although the honor of the playground says you take responsibility  for what you did.  But this should keep down on people being tortured unless the definition of torture is so wide you can fly a B-52 through its gullet.  Although, with my kids, they always tell on themselves.  They say "no, not me" but their eyes and body language say, "Dad, don't kill me".


2.  You cannot be held for a crime unless there is some evidence and some people agree you should be held until this thing is worked out.  For instance, If Boomer is grabbed on the street while carrying a tv because someone just robbed a tv store, I think he can be tie wrapped and held for a little while, until the popos get a little more info. He is not guilty so you cannot smack him around or tune up your bang stick on him.  And he cannot be held for an unreasonable amount of time just because he has a tv under his arm.


3.  Also, they kinda threw a link to the third amendment about grabbing your property without reason or compensation if they sell it or something.  If they take your taxi like they do in the movies for police business, they cannot keep it and take fares and shit for a week.  


4.  There is some crappola about in times of war and so on once again, Bush did declare war on drugs and aliens.  War changes everything.


5.  It specifies that this amendment is for big, serious kinda misadventures.  Not like outing a national secret agent, or arming foreign governments with drug seizure money and for sure not for lying to Congress.  Lying to liars is ok in most school yards.


6.  People accused of a crime have the right to face the accuser.  Well, unless they are the ugly, gruesome spawn of the most unholy wal-martians.  Then that would be covered under some other amendment, being punished before being convicted I mean.

Shoes

I know a lady that had over a hundred pair of shoes.  I insisted she wear them or give them away to the homeless.  If you are going to live in the bushes, at least have nice shoes on I told her.  My friend started wearing different shoes every day.  She would have the most inappropriate shoes for every occasion.  She became sort of a fashionista because of her boldness with shoe selections.  She gained some fame, started using crack and became an affordable street whore with really funky shoes.  Fame continued to follow her but at a the rate of $15 dollars a trick.  She continued to buy shoes so at the end of about two years she looked ten years older, got hepatitis and now had two hundred pairs of shoes.  She built a home in the bushes with the shoe boxes.  She glued them all together and wrapped the whole thing in saran wrap.  Pretty nice digs for a street whore.  She was trying on a new pair of Payless Bogos when a movie producer  looking for a $15 quickie offered her an audition for a part as a strung out whore living in a box.  She did not go to the audition because she did not have the new audition shoes to wear.

It was my fault. She said as much in the suicide note.  She had nice legs, I just wanted to see her show off her legs with all those fine shoes.  At the funeral, we opened the foot end of the coffin for the viewing and not the head end.  It just seemed the right thing to do.  Her shoes were Dorothy like Red Slippers. 

Legend of a Fall

I was actually working Sunday afternoon and while walking back down the long driveway with my sweet SRM-210 Echo weed whacker balanced in one hand.  I stopped and picked up a long stick lying in the yard.  I somehow got the stick between my legs sending me head over heals while trying to save my $200 weed whacker from annihilation.  My face was most important though, not because I am a movie star or anything, I just do not like things hitting my face really hard.  

I do not remember the next few seconds.   My next memory was tumbling.  Not tumbling like a kid on a school mat but tumbling which confirms that inertia is not the friend of a 52 year old overweight land baron.  I cannot even call it "head over heels" because if possible my head and my heels were sort of oozing or cytoplasmodial streaming in the same direction at the same time yet I remember tumbling.  When I opened my eyes (I always close my eyes when I fall, it is more exciting that way and It hurts less) I was staring up, I know "up" because the sky was blue on this day.  I took a quick inventory and nothing seemed cut, broken or pointing the wrong way.  There was no pain. 

I spent the next few instances wondering if anyone had seen me try to gracefully sweep the driveway with my face or if they had, did they film it by change.   I did not hear laughing nor did I hear anything actually.  This event was all mine to do with it what I wanted.  I knew there would be some discomfort tomorrow because the force of 1 or 2 G's was enough to activate my Delayed Memory Hysteria.  DMH is when you fear how you will feel in the morning although you are alright now.  Too much alcohol and car crashes are the most common triggers for DMH.

Anyway, today, my left shoulder and arm are sore.  Nothing to get hysterical about.  I told my wife and daughter, still laughing?  Yep.

Ethnic Diversity

The biggest social mistake the United States ever made was busting up the ethnic neighborhoods. It lines up with electing any president a second term and not letting Patton run all the way to Russia to shave that stupid mustache off of Joe Stalin's square donkey ass face.   Don't get me started.

I think Ethnicity is important and should be celebrated.   If you were actually able to walk through all of the Chicago suburbs or New York's Burroughs without being killed you would have seen Dagos on one corner with Micks and Kikes on the other.  A Pollock would be eating a noodle with some filling in it and arguing with the Chinks about whether it is a wonton or a perogi.  The Limeys would be yelling it is a dumpling and the Wogs would be call it something unpronounceable with lots of n's and p's in the spelling.  It is a noodle with filling and everyone loves them.    Where else are you going to find names with ten syllables and one vowel.  And when will we ever see names written in symbols that look like pick-up-sticks.

In the states we have diversity weeks and months.  I do not think we need black history month or American Indian diversity training.  Everyone worries about stereotypes and profiles.  I went to a Black History Month dinner sponsored by the Diversity Council, one of three white dudes there (diversity?) and they served Chicken and Greens.  It was like Martin Luther King Day at the Mt. Zion Primitive Baptist Church social.  I had a great time and it lived up to all of the stereotypes.  Diversity was never mentioned.  It would have been much better to have a Hebrew speaker and served  Pork Pie and Lentil soup for lunch.  That would have been diversity that amounted to something.

This country does not need diversity or to celebrate our differences, we need to unify and become Americans again, not nationalistic Nazis or socialized communists.  We need to become Americans that revel in the differences of each other and insist the differences are minute.  Sharing cultural differences cannot be mandated any more than cross dressing at a Skin-head mixer will be tolerated but it can be encouraged.  I am not making a very good case for diversity but that does not mean I am wrong.  

How far the finish line

I remember wondering how far the finish line when I had to run ten miles for fumbling a football during the homecoming game.  What happened was while we were running on the field at the beginning of the game and as I broke through the banner that said "Redmen are the Best", creative I know,  I dropped the football.  Lance Matheson kicked it and it went into a flood ditch.  We had to use the visiting teams football for the game.  The other football we had would not hold air because the rodeo club borrowed it.  Scott Burns, the quarterback refused to use the plays the coach sent in and we were penalized almost every play on defense. We had 235 yards in penalties and we missed seven field goals.  In all fairness to our kicker who was a 4'8" Nigerian soccer player who we called Bassy, three of the attempts were from over sixty yards away.  He did not understand the game but boy could he kick.  The coach lost his mind and had a nervous breakdown.  He was the art teacher and he started eating the paint and mumbling something about shooting Delta rabbits.  We had a six hour practice that Monday after homecoming and I had to run the hill for fumbling.  I tried to explain that the game technically had not even started.   Our former AirBorne Ranger assistant coach said "The football is your life, it will save the life of you and your squad.  Keep it clean and learn to disarm the quarterback with it".  I think he got in the lead paint also.

Anyway, for me the finish line is always reachable whether it was at the end of the runway of the Cedar Air port or getting through high school or most likely college.  I would not excel at football, high school, college or even life.  Just reaching the finish line was good enough for me.  It has always been way out there, the finish line I mean.  Just knowing it was there somewhere was good enough.  Heaven is that way I think.  Now, I can see the finish line through the fog of time.  I wonder if it will feel as good as getting back to the school yard did.  

Friday Sciences: Why bother

My son said to my wife the other day, "You would be amazed how well things grow when you water and fertilize them".   My wife told me this because she is always telling me I don't do it right or whatever.    I said, "Anyone can grow things with water and fertilizer, what  is the trick in that?"  That reminded me of Roy Pearse, an old mentor of mine that taught me all kinds of stuff.  He told me a story about an engineer guy that wanted a grant from NASA to develop a way to grow plants on the moon.  He was at some meeting about future NASA projects and gave some preliminary information about the potential project.  Well, they asked Roy his opinion of the guys proposal. 

Roy:  Are you going to grow it in dirt?  (I think Ralph like people to think he was more of a hick than he was)
Eager Engineer:  (with dollar signs in his eyes) Yes, moon soil.
Roy:  Water, are you going to use regular water?
Eager Engineer:  Recycled, yes, nutrient balanced.
Roy:  (nodding ) Good, good, Sunlight, are you gonna use sunlight?
Eager Engineer:  Oh yes, of course.
Roy:  Hmmm.  I know a guy in Kansas that does this kinda thing.  Been doing it for years.  He knows just how to grow lots of stuff with dirt, water and sunlight.

Roy was not really a mean guy, he just wanted people to think a little bit before opening their mouths in public.

The mind is a terrible thing to waste.  The greatest commercial ever on television.  Science bothers both the rich and the rigid, scares the religious and the righteous but it should not.  It is just discovery. 

Aggressors, foreign and domestic

Why, what we need is a little individualism taking hold and someone kicking ass on things like "supply chain" , "trickle down economics" and "intelligent design" all of which are propped up by voodoo science.  You cannot find two great mathematical or scientific studies that are worth a pound of pig shit on these topics. 

Recap:

For those who do not know, "Supply Chain" is a business strategy for lots of companies that merge into a huge mega company.  There is a theory that they will save money if they de-centralize everything and share procurement, human resources, engineering and logistics across the entire 150 thousand employees.   It sounds great and looks great on charts.   A now huge layer of Management is very happy because they can look at pictures and charts while they are at their health clubs trying to bone the towel boy/girl.  The usefulness of supply chain is that it eliminates the need for intelligent managers and probably cuts down on lawsuits.

Trick down economics is basically, "If the rich get richer, they will most likely have to hire more pool boys/girls to bone at a lower cost because they are all replaceable.  So unemployment goes down and poverty broadens its base.  Greed will never feed the orphans and widows. 

Intelligent design says than some intelligent force created the universe.  So what, does that mean that the theory of evolution is not a theory.  Does intelligent design explain how the force created pet dogs and dinosaurs.  NO, and it does not try to.  That is ok but it is not science and it is not a theory so do not teach it as one.  Teach it as a faith based fact.  When we were kids we hated the reason for anything being "because I said so" even if it was God who said so. 

Ignorance and the greatest enemy of the State.  Sheep and chickens are the dumbest animals ever domesticated.  That is what They (the burgermiesters) are trying to do to us.  Make us ignorant and docile so we will not see the slaughter.

The Constitution: Fourth Amendment

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

John Adams is responsible for the "reasonable"  statement.  It is disconcerting how vague "reasonable" has become even for those in trusted with our honor.  If everyone was reasonable, life would be simple and direct. 

Is it reasonable to assume a black man driving a black Escalade with dark tinted windows and expensive rims doing 85 mph heading north on I-95 is a possible drug runner and should be checked?  The funny thing is that this profile is now enlarged to include Latino men.  If Belgian Sheep Herders become the rage for drug trafficking, will we add them to the profile description?  Or how about Skin Heads.  They have a bulls eye on their hairless heads.  I think if I saw a skinhead driving an F-350 with mud tires and a girl with no teeth tied in the back heading north on I-75 like a bat out of hell, I would just think it was a shotgun wedding of some sort.  But if he was 1/16 mulatto it would be white slavery all righty then.

In the old south, if you were driving a fast car and looked like you belonged in a Deliverance movie and were heading down a back road, you were searched by the Revenuers. 

I think if it looks like you are doing something wrong, there is a 50/50 chance you are doing something wrong.  I would like the popos to check it out.  Maybe not just because you are black or Latino but also by the width of his nose. Hell, if someone would have stopped me from doing all the crazy shit I was doing, I would have been saved much pain and many scares.  I do think that we should hassle anyone that has his pants below his ass because anyone dressed like that will sooner or later be doing something wrong and illegal.  He will have not choice because he can not work with his pants there even if someone would hire him.

Unreasonable search and seizure should be a no brainer. 

The Player Gets Caught part V

The Player just hung up from one of his bitches on his alternate and secret cell phone number.  His wife calls on the regular cell phone number.  She does not know his phone can receive two numbers.  His secrete number has silent alerts and hidden text message receiving.

Player:  Hey Babe, whats up.
Wife:  Some bitch just called named Mandy and said you don't love me any more and you actually love her and so since I do not work, I should move my sorry ass out and she wants to move in.

The Player over corrected and drove into on-coming traffic.  The lady with the miniature Schnauzer in the silver Izuzu will never look at a leisurely drive quite the same way. The Player, in true form never put down the phone or stopped talking as he re-corrected.  He is good.

Player:  Those boys at the Barber Shop, Mandy is one of the whores that hangs with Jess.  The boys put her up to that.   Mandy, no way, she has crooked teeth and a wandering eye.
Wife:  Where the hell are you?
Player:  I am just passing the  I-10 exit.  I should be home in twenty.  Hey honey, there is a lot of traffic, let me call you back.

There was no traffic, the Player had stopped to check his underwear.  He was sweating profusely and breathing hard.

Player:  Hey, Mandy, what the fuck is your problem.  (he is looking at the phone while yelling in to it) Did I not tell you I would see you tomorrow!
Bitch:  I know but I miss you and it has been three days since I saw you.  I was lonely.
Player:  Well, you are gonna be a lot more lonely.  We are done!  I can't have bitches calling my house talking to my wife.  I will be there in five minutes to get my shit.

The Player knows that bitches are crazy and if he leaves a sock or a shirt there, or even cologne, she may take it to his wife to prove their love affair.  Now she is just lonely, soon she will be extremely pissed off.  The Player pulls into Mandy's apartment complex which is quite covieniently on his way home from work.

Player:  (knocking on the door) Mandy, let me in.
Bitch:  No, you are gonna hit me!
Player:  I should hit you, just let me in and lets talk about this.
Bitch:  You gonna hit me?
Player:  No, too many people around.

The Player starts telling Mandy that she is a fine girl while all the time rounding up his cloths, notes, cards etc.  He even took the perfume he gave her.  Which quite coincidentally was the same type he buys his wife.  Women have a great sense of smell.  They can tell a strange smell better than a drug dog.  Pepperoni does not even work on women.

Player:  Mandy, I do love you but I can not trust you any more, Bye!

He backs out the door and runs to his car which is parked about six units away out of sound and gun range.  His wife is expecting him soon.

I knew it, I knew it, I freakin knew it.

Justin Bieber's hair, I knew I had seen that hair before.

So, now how does this fit into my "fractal" theory.  I know it is part of the "nothing is really new" and "history repeats itself" and that is certainly true for styles.  I remember Michael Jackson and the moon walk, James Brown did it thirty years earlier. I will have to think on it, I cannot use the "dust to dust" thing on this one.  Kinda weak.

I started to wonder about his hair when I saw a video of Nataly Dawn of Pomplamoose a while ago.  I could not get past the green eyes until I saw the HAIR.

I knew it, Epiphany! Damn skippy. Ok, so I was wrong about that guy in the leopard print leotard with the boots. Once maybe twice.  Ok, a bunch but I knew it.