The Confused Veteran

Huh?! What did you say?! No, they WANT you to take the rolls!

What?! Oh, oh, sorry. My apologies, young lady. What's that? You're a man?! Certainly not with THAT hair, or those clothes. You look an awful lot like my late wife's macaw. That's a bird, sonny, real colorful like with the feathers sticking up of its' head. Why you wanna dress up like some hussied up streetwalker? Errghhh, whatever, I don't need to hear none o' yer explaining.

The name's Billingsley, Sergeant L. Orville Billingsley, Army Rangers, 9th Airborne Batallion, Charlie Company. And that's how introduce yourself, sonny. None of that, "Sup, doggie doggie, homely G-money" crap! What is wrong with your generation, boy? All of you running around dressing like your women, acting like women, and you ain't even ATTRACTED to women. What is this nonsense? Back in my day, if you were a man, you were a man! You dressed like a man, you loved women like a man, and you WORKED like a man. All you young'uns now want to be paid for doing nothing but being alive, and you walk around listening to that hippity hoppity music all day. It's shameful!

I can't believe I nearly died for this country back in WW2 and now this is what has happened to my beloved country. Boys act like girls, girls act like boys, and all of you think that I'm a problem because I tell you the truth! You got no respect, sonny! If'n you was mine, I'd have left you in the cold Michigan winter naked and seen if you could survive it. That would make you appreciate your life!

So, really, tell me boy, what is it about all this hippity hoppity music, the fru-fru coffee drinks, and them apple macintosh gadgets that make you think you are being a man? I just can't get my head around it. And where do you come off voting Democrat?!! You, your parents, and your illegitimate children that you have on welfare ought to be ashamed of yourselves! Don't you know that all them democrats want is to make you a slave to their government machine?! It's saddens me, but you gonna do what you gonna do I guess.

Well, I guess I wasted enough o' yer time, seein' as you won't listen to reason anyway. Sorry to bother you, girl...uh, boy.

The Misguided Mayoral Candidate

Huh? Who dat? Where am I? Oh, oh, right. Sorry, forgot we was doing a camera thing.

My name is Hendry S. Tacklebottom, and I am running for the office of mayor of Detroit. Now, I know many of you don't know me too well, so let me tell you a little bit about myself. I'm a lifetime resident here, been through the good times and the bad times - from the days when our city's revenue was in the several millions and then the not-so-good, recent history of our having an overwhelming deficit. When I was born here in the mid-1950's, I remember things being pretty decent and those are the times I would like to return to if elected to the mayorshipness of this fair city.

My personal politics are as follows - I don't like big government, but I know we need to have some sort of controls and measures in place for the safety of our people. My first priority would be to help get all these hooligans and thugs under control with a project I call The Hendry S. Tacklebottom Hooligan Displacement Act.

What this act would do, in effect, would be to round up all the thugs and hooligans that are muckin' up our city streets. How would I do this, you might be asking. Well, I'll tell you. What we gotta do is first get their attention in a big way. My plan includes options for things such as advertising a Nicki Minaj concert downtown and tell them all that at the concert there will be free hot wings and Old English. Now, I know this won't appeal to a vast majority of the thugs we got running around here so, in addition to that, we will also send out the message that Pitbull will also be appearing that same night, and that there will be all the tacos, quesadillas, and Patron you can stomach. And before you go thinking I forgot that we got some other thugs that bother our fine men and women in uniform, we also have plans to announce that ICP and Luke Bryan will be performing a mash-up concert and giving away all the Faygo and Copenhagen you can handle.

Now, once the word spreads of these concerts and our idiotic thugs all cram their way into the downtown area, how are we to get rid of them? It's simple. We will have an elite force of specially trained zoo and animal control workers stationed on the rooftops of the neighboring buildings that will be laying in wait until the signal is given. That signal will be the opening line of the theme song to "Family Ties", since that is the most wholesome show ever to be put on television. As the signal is given, the special animal task force will release hundreds of animal nets from the rooftops and ensnare all the thugs down below. They will fight, of course, but the more they fight the more trapped they will become. Once they all settle down and accept their fate, we will have dump trucks ready to be loaded with the nets full of our pestilential, problematic thug population. The dump trucks will then drive the captive thugs to the riverbank and dump them in the water to be washed away with the tides.

After our thug problem is completely eradicated, our city will once again be able to thrive and I hope to be the one to take us there. I have several ideas to boost the economy, such as new educational techniques for children who struggle with learning. I also would like to stimulate the economic growth through funding many start up businesses that this city desperately needs. I can't get into many specifics there, but in addition to new business, I aim to lower the tax rates citywide. I would like to state that I would seek to impose one new, small tax but that would only affect our streetwalker population. I know many before me have tried to get rid of the streetwalker problem but I seek to embrace them as a viable avenue for tax revenue and would impose a new small business tax on the streetwalker population as I would try to unionize and regulate the whole industry to generate new revenue for the city to improve the working conditions for those folks, like my wife, I mean ummm, the streetwalkers.

Oh, yes, and I also would like to decentralize our police force and offer up a self-trained militia to patrol our streets so that our fine men and women in blue can be better protected from violent crimes.

Thank you, and don't forget to vote for me, Hendry S. Tacklebottom, as your next mayor.

The Tragic Cougar

*hic* Hey *hic* hey, big boy. Why don't you come over here and give Mona a *hic* kiss.

Actua-*hic* actually, my name is Shar-*hic*, Sharleen but I got a feeling that you can *hic* sure enough make me Mona. HAHAHAHHAHAHAHH*hic*HAHAHA! What's that, sug? You wanna know about *hic* about me*hic*? Ok.

Well like I said, my name is Sharleen, Sharleen Shablanksi. I'm 52 years young, sweet thing, and I'm a tigress in bed. Get me between the sheets, I'll be the subject of all your tweets. That's a catchphrase, sweetie, trademark pending. I like to drink, clearly, and I'm always up for a party. I have seven kids from, oh God, like nine different guys but they don't really talk to me anymore - the kids, not the guys. The guys still come after me pretty regularly cause, well, I know you know why, you're looking at me. *rawr*

Huh? Why am I like this? What do you mean, "like this"? I'm white, sugar, ain't no "like this" for me to be, I'm just a privileged alcoholic, so if you don't like it, you can suck it...please! Please suck it. I like my tits to be played with, honeybear. But I guess it really started when I was about 19 years old. See, I moved out of my parents house then because they were trying to make me go to school and get my degree as a doctor. They just wouldn't leave me alone about it and it wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a dancer. Not like a stripper or anything, but a real dancer - like on Broadway. So I moved out of my house and up to New York to try and train with a good studio so I could become famous.

When I got to New York, though, I didn't have a place to live or a job so it was rough going. I would wander the streets all night and all day, trying to get some work so I could make enough to find a place to rent. The upside to that was that I got to know my city very well by walking around all over the place. The downside was that several times a night I was approached by men, sometimes women as well, but mostly men, and asked if I was dtf and what the price would be. This went on for several months and it was flattering but I never really bought into it.

One cold night in November, though, I hastily changed my mind. It was well below freezing and there was a major snow storm going on. I was walking through lower Manhattan and a limo pulled up next to me. I didn't even wait for the man to finish talking, I just jumped right in and we sped away. He was saying something, I don't know what it sounded like Russian or German to me, and I just understood what I was supposed to be doing in that situation so I nervously undid his pants and started getting to work.

He pushed me off and the limo driver rolled down the glass and explained that he just wanted to talk to me at his hotel, not have his way with me. But I just couldn't come to grips with it so once we got to the hotel, he explained that I was going to be his salt-wife. That I was to stay in the hotel, never leave, and always be naked and ready for him when he came home. The first night was awkward but after that, I guess you could say I had my "awakening". I pleased him up and down, left, right, center, nothing was off limits. And he treated me like royalty. Always bought me the best and newest trinkets and things, took me to fancy restaurants, plays, the ballet. It was wonderful. He even put me in his will after a while.

Then, he died. It was tragic. He was on safari in Africa and hunting big game, probably lion or rhino - something exotic, he loved that. Well, I don't know exactly what happened but somehow he had gotten chased up a tree by something and fell. When he landed, he hit his head and was unconscious. As he came to, he didn't know where he was but he heard the crunching of his bones and saw a lion eating his legs. He scrambled for his rifle and picked it up to fire. Unfortunately, in his confused state he didn't realize the rifle was the wrong way around and he shot himself through the stomach with an elephant rifle.

I cried until I couldn't breathe anymore. The next day I stopped crying because he had left me with more money than I ever dreamed of - 289 million dollars. I was so happy! I went out and began to find men that would sleep with me because I just missed the feeling of being important. I would buy them dinner and anything they desired so long as they would just sleep with me once. And I've been doing that ever since. I can't explain why but I know I like it, and I only sleep with men who are 26. They have to be 26 because that's how old he was when he died, it's like my own little connection to him.

So.....how about it? You want a car or an airplane?