Just Blame Bush

When things are good, I want to smile, when things go well, I love to gloat when things are well, I need to push, but when things go bad, I just blame Bush.

I traveled around this wide world apologizing to nations heads, but when all is said and done, my political career will be quite dead, with all the bad decisions that I have made, I just blame bush. Gas is over four bucks now, cause I denied the drill. I instated health care, giving our elderly a pill, I want us to be the UK, and that is why I push, and when Americans blame me I just blame Bush.
I let criminals over the borders, and the panthers get a pass, I am being sued by many states, because I am so crass, but many will believe me, when it has all gone to mush, I turn to them and smile and I just blame Bush.

I am Barrack Obama, the savior of the land. Why do so many hate me, I can never understand. I have done a bad job lately, well for the past four years, if unemployment stays this high, I’ll one term I do fear. Whats wrong with a windmill, or an electric car, the people don’t know what they need, and I will take them far, I need only another four, to save us yes we can, with another four more years, we can start our UK plan. oh I know what their saying, the flag it waves so high, those colors that are red and white and as blue as the blue sky, they say I am a socialist, where is that coming from, just because I wipe my buttocks with the constitution. I really love my travel, my golf, and vacations, my hundred dollar a pound steak, and lack of emotions, I love to take in midays suns, just sitting on my tush, and no matter what anyone says, I will just Blame Bush.

I been on so much television, including Leno, and the View, they never ask me tough questions, or show me on the news, They all love me, well except for Rush and Hannity, I will play the race card, and ahead I sure will forge, when its all said and done, I will blame poor old George, the old “W”, I just blame Bush, and I aint kiddin, I will always blame George W. Bush.


The Theatre of Firesign

Four boys from California banded together in 1966 to form one of the best comedy groups that ever lived. The Firesign Theatre were my mentors. I first took a listen on a local college radio station in Jersey and never looked back. David Ossman, Phil Proctor, Peter Bergman, and Phil Austin are the boys. Peter was always a radio actor, producer who knew comedy timing. Phil Procter was always an actor who is still doing that. Phil Austin, actor, comedian, and voice over artist,was the guy on the Mama’s and the Papa’s “Dream a little Dream of me” intro, and David Ossman is an actor, funny guy, and a radio purist. The four, are inventively awesome.

The first four albums are one tale together, but each a story within the tale. They take old time radio and bring it into the future using sound effects which pull you into the story. David Ossman mentored me and today, those who were my idols, are now friends which is astounding to me.

Thirty albums and growing, The Firesign Theatre, are still together and preform all over the country. They are the modern day Marx Brothers on acid. Years ago I coined a phrase, “The Firesign Theatre, are the Beatles of Comedy.” Adopted by the Library of Congress, I feel proud to be a par Continue reading ‘The Theatre of Firesign’

How and why I am here???Who am I???

As far back as I can remember, I have always cheated death or should I say, life has cheated me. I am a true believer that all things happen for a reason. I was only three when the neighbor boy and I were playing in our yard which was connected. The folks were having a get together. I remember the kid walking over to me carrying a one inch thick board, raising it over his head and slamming it down on mine as hard as he could. I also remember seeing stars, actual stars like a freakin cartoon. The lump raised on the top of my head was the size of a baseball. I ran to good old Mother, and she was talking. I was crying, and all she could say was, I must have done something to deserve that.

I was allowed to skip the second grade for reasons of the adult world but I had The others were eight in the third grade. Ok, by the time I was in the fifth grade, being now, ten, while most of the class were twelve and so much bigger than I, I was the target of bullying, big time. I am talking about a rough neighborhood to begin with, and getting at least a beating a day, I was afraid to head outdoors. The bully’s would actually chase me home and if I was lucky they did not catch me. no argument at that age, I was only six six. The thing was, at the age of six, to skip, placed me into an older class. These beatings would take place until I was ten or twelve.

So when one combines the attacks I received as a kid, and parents who were constantly fighting, a father who was drunk for as far back as I can remember, I was the one they always put in the middle to measure who was right. No child should ever be put in that situation, but I survived. My father would call for me personally when he threatened to cut off his feet, having me get a towel, a pot, and two sharp knives. He would make me watch but he would never go through with the act. But at that time, a ten year old should never be put in that situation wither. Basically, I felt so alone in the world so I kept to myself pretty much.

At eleven, I remember riding my bike, alone, when an older kid started to chase me for my two wheeler, stingray with the banana seat and whammy bar. I never received presents for any occasion, but a neighbor gave me his old bike when he got a new one. This would be the start of me, feeling deserving enough to own anything or except gifts graciously, go figure. So this older kid chased me into a school yard and I hit a wall head on. The bike raised on its front wheels and my head hit the wall, hard. That must of scared him because he left. I road home in a daze but before I got their, another kid walks up to me, grabs the bike, and punches me square in the nose, breaking it. When I got home, all my mother said was, how did that happen, then she walked away. I was eleven, no love was lost.

Now in middle school, we called it Junior High back in the day, I remember three different teachers beating me up at separate times for no reasons. I went to a very bad school where the kids were running rabid. I was a good kid, kept to myself, and always taught to respect elders, and ask questions when I didn’t know or understand something. Those teachers felt I was being a wise guy so that was their excuse for beating me up.

At twelve, my brother hit me in the head with a rock. I needed three stitches which cost my Mom ten dollars at that time. She was furious with me for getting hit with that rock and refused the doctor when he offered anesthetic which would have been an additional ten dollars at the time. Are we beginning to see a pattern here? Then they send me to a two week summer camp for twenty five dollars, not to better my life but to get rid of me I am willing to guess. This was the camp where the counselors wheeled canvas belts and used them to keep us in line and as far as I could see, we never did anything wrong. Maybe it was the time my brother, me seven, him twelve, placed shards of glass into my glass of juice causing me to almost die, well, I was told to suck it up by dear old dad.

I have been hit in my head so many times, the doctors say, one more time, and I will die.

One day we moved. I was thirteen years old at that time. I was left a note at the old apartment where to go. I rode my bike thirteen blocks and found the new address, which is how I even found out we moved in the first place. The house was a three story building with basement. My brother and sisters had their own rooms, I had the unfinished attic complete with bats, squirrels, and possums. I learned to cope by slowly finishing the attic in an artistic way. The home was a duplex and the neighbor took the time to talk with me at times. He found out I was interested in writing and I had shown him some of my stories. He gifted me a typewriter. He was kind and caring and I will never forget the man for taking time on me. By the way, this happened between the time my mother threw me down the fifteen stairs for no apparent reasoning, and the time my Father came home stinking drunk and attacked me with a hammer, just because.

I have always been a smart child and despite all the roughness in my world, I always was able to articulate on paper what I was feeling. This is my forte. I believe I am here for a reason, to write, and let others enjoy what I have written. I feel as if I live on borrowed time and use it all to write. I have managed to write seventeen books with three in the works. I have written for news, media, and comedians and not to mention tens of thousands of articles. I feel lucky despite what has happened to me. By the way, those bully’s from back in the day, have since passed away which is all the revenge I need for closure. My siblings, well, who knows where they are or how they are doing. I separated from them when I found the love of my life and married. The grandparents didn’t care enough to know my kids, and as for the siblings, they are only in it for themselves. I found out during a heated argument that I was never a wanted child. They also told me, I was the reason they grew up poor. I would receive wrapped up used socks for Christmas as gifts, my own used socks go figure. Birthdays, not even a “Happy birthday Rob.” I have always d=id well for myself and writing this was sort of a therapy for me. Thanks for the read and google me for more insight into why I am.

Out of his League-Finale

Well. Friday has come and gone and I have a lot to say about it. Stacy for the most part fell into my plans when I manipulated her into her own game of sorts.

I called her from work and told her the guys were going to keep me company while she went on her girls night out. She didn’t have much to say, I guess because she was too worried about whet she was going to wear. Well, she came home and did her dress up thing. I had beer and vodka stocked up to the hilt. Stacy went out as usual, right on time and the guys came over to play cards. there were five plus me sitting around the card table and already we downed a case of beer as I coached them on what to do when Stacy arrived home. I told the guys to show her as much attention as they could and flirt all they wanted. I told Brad to invite her into the game because she is a good poker player. I told Steve to lay on the compliments heavily, and as for Billy, Joe and Rocco, to smile a lot and keep telling er just how hot she is.

I heard the cab pull up and we were more rowdy then usual probably because we were all wasted and finishing up another case. Stacy walked in and i could tell she was plastered. She tried to walk towards the stairs but Brad rushed over to her and took her arm and guided her into the dining room where we were playing. She reluctantly went along with him as he brought her into our little game. Brad invited her to sit with us for a while. She tried to give the excuse that it was a guys game and she needed to head up to her bedroom to change. Joe offered her a beer and said, “At least have a night cap before you leave us guys stranded without a hot female to admire.” Stacy smiled and said nothing but did take the beer. I got up and walked over to Stacy and pretended as if she was cramping our style. “Honey, the guys feel as if they can’t speak their mind when you are here. You know, talking about a great rack or ass. You know, guy talk so you might want to leave.” Right on queue, Bily said, “I don’t care if Stacy is here, ifI want to talk about how hot a chick is, I don’t think she will cramp any style, she is an adult, not a baby, isn’t that right baby/” Stacy joins in and replied, “Feel free to say whatever is on your mind guys, I am just going to finish my beer and head up.” Joe said, ok, but maybe we should have your hubby leave so we can really speak out minds.” I said, “i am not going to leave so if you have something to say just spit it out.” Billy said, well, you do have a very hot wife and she has a rack no one should ever be ashamed of.” I sat back as the hits kept coming watching Stacy’s face light up with every compliment to her womanhood. ” I am sure I am not the first man to compliment you right Stacy?” Stacy shook her head and said, Yep, not the first and trust me, I don’t mind a bit.” Billy passe s Stacy another beer and a shot as we raised our shot glasses in toast.

Stacy downed that shot and half a beer and that’s when Brad asked Stacy f she wanted to be dealt in the game. Stacy was so out of it and she agreed. When the hand was over, Joey said, “Ok, Stacy, Joe, and Brad, you lose so take something off my friends.” Stacy said, “Oh, didn’t know we were playing strip poker.” I kept quiet as Brad said, “oh yeah, rules are rules and I am sure you will win most of the hands and keep all of those clothes on although, I wouldn’t mind seeing some action tonight.” Stacy slipped off her shoes, I my shirt,and the others their shoes. Joe yells out, “Thats one way to get out of them clothes right Stacy. She smiled and opened another beer.

An hour passes and all Stacy had on was a bra and panties. I announced that I was heading up because I was beat. Stacy never said a word and actually stayed in the game.

I am not going to say what happened that night but the video says it all. I wont show that to Stacy and let her think wat I don’t know wont hurt me. My friends, well they are not really my friends anymore and I have not decided yet if I want to say married to a woman who just cannot control herself. Thanks for listening and I will have to figure this all out alone as usual.

Out of his League part two

First off, I hope you read the first part of this long session of mine. It is like my therapy. Its ok that no one seems to have any advise for me, I will figure this situation out all by my lonesome and besides, it is a good way for me to vent.

It is Tuesday, and so far, Stacy, my wife has had to work late both Monday and Tuesday. Now that has me worried because she never had to work late in all the years we have been together. Now my mind is going wild. Does she have a guy on the side? the other thing is, although she didn’t seem to be drunk, she smelled like gin, or something else familiar. Secrets take a toll on a marriage. I know, I have a feeling she is keeping a few herself.

I am at that age, the age where it is not too late to start over if I have too, need to, must. I only hope that she doesn’t hide so much from me that there is no turning back. I mean, I hope if she is hiding something from me that would end the relationship, she doesn’t wait until I am too old to find someone.

My wife has always been an open masturbatory person. She asks me if I am in the mood but if I am too tired from work to have sex, I know what she would do. She tells me. “I’m heading for the tub.” She can do it anywhere and everywhere without any inhibitions. She simply loves the pleasure among others. She has done it in front of me and as far as I know, she would not go as far as to expose herself as an exhibitionist for all to see. I really enjoy her doing that when she feels the need. Her pleasure is my pleasure. I have dabbled with the thought that she might be a sex addict but so far she has shown normal signs of a healthy women. We do have sex regulary so I am sure she is pleased in that department. It is just me, my thoughts running ramped.

She seems to be a different person now from when we were first married. She seemed to be shy and content but these days, their is something different about Stacy, something going on. It is as if she went through some kind of awakening.

Out of his League

My wife is like any other I guess. She wears jeans around the home, works a nine to five job to help out, and she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen which is why I have this dilemma. Oh sure, it may be easier looking in from your position, but from where I sit it is indeed a problem, for me at least. We have been married for five years now and have settled many differences so we are now at a comfort level we can both live with.

Stacy, my wife, the quiet, tall blond that gets compliments from all who survey. I am five years older the she, I am twenty seven and she twenty two. We argue about it all the time and I usually lose. If we are to be equals than I must learn to trust her, she always says. I do trust her with all of my heart but I still can’t help think if she is playing me for the fool.

I know I haven’t told my story to you as of yet, but I will. The thing of it is, if I tell people, they might tell me what I don’t want to believe. I am very skeptical of people. If I do tell, who knows what some of the guys I know will try and do. Maybe I am being paranoid but maybe I am not.

We both work, Stacy and I. We both clean the house, cook the meals and get tired. We did agree on one night of the week for alone time. I spend my alone time out with the guys and she out with the girls so she says. This is where we argue a lot. I head out on Thursdays to play poker, her night is Fridays. You don’t see a problem yet, because that’s not a problem, this is. I am wondering, no, more than wondering, obsessed, angry, and emotional on what is really going on.

When I go out, on my night, I simply head over to my buddies house to play cards. When she heads out, I can only watch as she gets ready. Her smile is huge as she rolls on those black silk stockings with matching pumps complete with garter belts. I did question her one time and her answer was that she needed to feel feminine and she also needed to compete with her gal pals when it came to her femininity. Ok, I never brought that up again because it made sense. I was just over reacting because my beauty was not going to be with me and she looked smoking hot. She then puts on that same dress every time. The color will change but the theme remains the same. No back, low cut showing off her twins and very sleek and sheer. The dress is long enough but still above the knee with a slit up the side and always complimenting pumps. The makeup is heavier than usual and although she never wears ruby red, her lips are never without on her Friday nights out with the girls.

She is ready. She walks over to me and places her hand on my shoulder and always says, “I wont be too late but get some sleep.” She claims she would kiss me but doesn’t want to mess up her lips. She has a different aura about her as she heads towards the front door, more confidant, more sensual, actually happier then I have seen her when she is just playing wife to yours truly.

Its always the same. I pretend to be asleep as she walks in the bedroom at three or four in the morning smelling like smoke, booze and that worries me. The smile is still there, she is a little tipsy, well hell, sometimes outright drunk, and she actually does a little strip tease as she undresses folding her close carefully as if to thank them for making her look so good. She than heads into the bathroom and spends about a half an hour and if I listen hard I can almost hear her talking as if she were on the phone. She walks back into our bedroom and lays in bed. I usually fall asleep and I assume she does too.

So, that’s about it, am I just being paranoid? I mean, I go out with the guys and I don’t make it a night of lust so why should I assume she does?

Our sex life is a private and sacred thing so I wont plaster details on here but I will say we have a good one. Maybe if she weren’t so perfect, so hot, so sexy, so model like. Am I just obsessing on something that is in my imagination only? i don’t want to believe that she is cheating on me because I do trust her fully but I have seen many a women drunk in my life and they have been known to flirt and even cling to me. I do turn them all down but does my wife? I need feedback, please, I will trust your judgment so please help. Is she cheating on me or am I just overreacting. I am not going to pretend I know women so well, no man knows what is going through the mind of a woman. I am a realist. I know women as well as men have a few secrets, that’s just life. Please help me in understanding my situation better, I am begging here.

I am going to post updates but please feedback.

Here is the latest. Yesterday, Friday, just came and went. I am more obsessed than ever with this, my situation if I even have one. Ok, I decided to wave my night out with the guys and sat in my car down the street. I sat for hours watching my house. I didn’t know what to expect, well, I guess I was waiting for my wife to be scantily clad running from the house jumping in some guys car but she didn’t and when it was time for me to be home, she was sitting in the bathroom talking on the phone. So I was wrong. Last night was the same old same old. She went on her night out this time showing more than I would like her too but she did her usual, am air kiss and a swift departure. I waited by the window and the taxi dropped her off at three thirty in the morning. I could tell by the way she was staggering ont the front porch that she was drunk, very to say the least. I ran upstairs to our bedroom and pretended to be asleep. I waited as she did her dance in front of the mirror, and the bathroom phone call. When she finally came to bed I pretended to wake. I asked her if she had been drinking and she admitted that she did drink some which I had no problem with because she is an adult. I pretended to yawn and wipe the sleep from my eyes. “So, did you have fun tonight?” I asked, Oh yeah, it was truly one of the best nights ever.” she replied as she giggled as if she just told an inside joke. “You want to share?” I asked, she said, “Nothing to share, we gossiped all night and made martini’s, boring to say the least.” With that said, I rolled over and stared at the walls until I fell asleep. Maybe there is nothing to all of this. Should I have pressed her more on issues bothering me, should I give her the third degree? I am waiting for someone to enlighten me because when it comes to women, I am just not that smart. First thing, when she tells me it was one of the best nights ever and then tells me it was boring, what am I supposed to think?

Update Feb 8th
Sunday and we had our annual Super Bowl Party. There was about seven of my friends here and their wives who managed to set up in the kitchen armed with beer, and vodka, and were chatting away while the boys watched the Saints march in. My wife is not an alcoholic, she only drinks when we have special occasions like the super bowl and her gals nights. I was hoping for her to get blitzed so we can continue our talk. Since no one has yet given me advise I am going to keep doing what I am doing wrong or right.

Me: So, you seemed to have had fun, at least if the liquor is any indication.

Misty: Yeah, it was a good party.

Me: What did you gals talk about, or is that a secret us guys are not allowed to hear?

Misty: We just talked about life, you know, wife stuff.

Me: Come on, wife stuff, all that booze wasted on wife chatter?

Misty: Yeah, we had fun, so how was the game?

Me: Great, I only hope you were able to talk with all the racket we were making.

Misty: Yeah, we were just fine and had loads of fun.

Me: Listening to a bunch of routy men cheering couldn’t have been that much fun for you unless you like that sort of thing.

Misty: Depends on what they are cheering about. men are men, they will always have something to cheer about.

Me: Yes, guys tend to cheer for what they like, favorite team, hot women, you know.

Misty: Yeah, they need that I guess.

Me: Yes, some men cheer while others take what they need, well, when they like what they see, you know I mean cheering for.

Misty: Well, men can be aggressive, us women, well we are petite little flowers.

Me: Meant to be picked, they love when they are picked.

Misty: I guess it is the attention, the flattery, you know.

Me: So, how many time have you been picked? Just knowing how the attention makes you feel.

Misty: No, wait, not me, other women and no we weren’t talking about those types of men at all tonight.

Me: What types did you talk about?

Misty: We were talking about female things, you would never understand.

Me: I guess, I am going to clean up and I will see you upstairs.

Misty, I will probably be asleep when you get up there.

Me: ok, pleasant dreams, nothing too naughty I hope.

Misty: He, where ever my dreams take me.

Ok, that’s it for today.

Updated, Feb 9th

I called her at her job and one of her co workers said she went out to lunch with a few of the others. I named a few of her friends at work but the person refused to say, well she wouldn’t say directly. She just said, “I didn’t see them leave but she said she would be an hour or so.” Ok, innocent until proven guilty,

It is like I don’t know her anymore. Like she has her live at home with me and another life outside of the home. By the lack of people giving me advise, I can only guess, the women reading this wont answer to protect their own, and the guys, well they just are as clueless, as I am.

I just don’t know anymore. At home she seems to want to cover up, jeans, sweats, baggy tops, at work, or hanging out with friends, dressed to the nines showing off all her assets. I tried something tonight. We were lounging after dinner, the television was on and we were watching a movie, so far so good right well, I already looked at the guide and the movie that came on after was rated adult so just before the movie we were watching was over I told her I was heading up to bed because I was beat. When we are together, she always makes me turn the adult movies because she says, we don’t need to be watching that fake stuff. When I headed up, the movie ended and I just waited to see if she would come up after but nope, she sat and watched the adult flick. I was watching from the staircase for a while. It seems that she was more interested in that one then when we were watching the regular movie. I give up. I guess I will just have to figure this out on my own. I am planning something great for this Friday. Can’t wait to see what happens when she gets home from her girls night out. If she is drunk as she was last week, we shall see what gives. I also know she is way out of my league. I was warned she was high maintenance, but when I married her she was down to earth. Please respond, I am feeling so alone right about now.

Cassandra Part 4

Cassie panics staring at her blood filled hands. She has no idea what had taken place and with that in mind she could indeed be a killer. She runs out of that car and towards her home. She runs up the stairs and into the bathroom. She showers off the blood and leans her head back letting the hot water cascade down her body trying to remember something, anything.

Cassie steps out of the shower onto a towel she placed on the floor. She dries off and puts on a robe. She heads down and tries to wake Ted again but he just wouldn’t. Cassie whispers to herself, “He must have been drugged or something. She hears a very light tap at the door. She walks over and sees that its her neighbor Bob. She lets him inside and tells him she cannot wake Ted up. Bob tries, but fails. He picks up the drink by Teds table and sniffs it. “Drugged.” He turns to Cass and says, “We need to talk.” The two walk to the kitchen and Cass starts to make a pot of tea. Bob says, “Listen, you must have something stronger around this dump.” Cass opens a cabinet and pulls out a very expensive bottle of Napoleon Brandy. “Now you are talking my language.” Bob said with a smile as wide as a city street. “It is for special occasions” Cass answered as she poured them a huge glass.

The two talked for a while trying to figure out what was going on.

“Cass, what the hell is going on around here?”

I don’t really know myself Bob.

Just then they saw a red light flashing down the street. They get up and look through the window and see the police roping off the corner.

“They found him.”

“Found who Cass, found who?”

They walk back to the dining room and pour another.

“I don’t know, there was this guy, last thing I remembered was his fist heading for my face and I woke up in a car on that corner with a dead guy.”

Bob noticed that the two had polished off the whole bottle. Cass was drunk and not making much sence when she spoke. Bob was feeling good, pretty good. He places his hand on hers and looks into her eyes and says, “Listen, we need to start trusting each other if we want to get through this. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”

“Look, Bob, I am a good wife to Ted. I am a good girl and would never do anything to hurt him or anyone else for that matter; at least I don’t think I would.”

Come on, Cass, a dead guy, Ted on the sofa unconscious, you sitting here with your neighbor drunk. It just doesn’t make any sense to me at all. You need to fill in some of the blanks here. You need to be straight with me like what you are doing with men in expensive restaurants dressed sexy, wigs, what the hell is going on?”

“So, you think I am sexy huh?”

“Come on Cassie, any man would kill to be with you.”

“Any man? You perhaps?”

“Look, this is not the time or place for this conversation.”

Bob leans in as the conversation slows down. “I just need to hear that once in a while.” Cassie said. “Well I am telling you that I have always found you to be a very sensual woman.” Bob says as the two move closer together as if nothing else existed. No Ted, No dead guy, no cops, just the two of them ready to kiss for the first time and finally that moment came.