news from doswell

Brad's Own "Punxsutawney Phil" Sees His Shadow

2012-02-10T21:26:00.000-05:00

Oh Crap: Doswell Man Makes Eye Contact with liberty Tax Mascot; Mascot Now Walking Towards Him

2012-02-08T19:49:00.003-05:00

109-Year-Old Black Doswell Man Insists he is not a Blues legend, Despite Name and Nearby Guitar

2012-02-06T11:01:00.000-05:00

109-year-old Doswell resident “Gumbo” Lightnin’ Mud insists he “never played the blues”, never jammed with Mick Jagger or Bob Dylan, and to his knowledge never even influenced any modern-day rock or pop stars.

“Why is it every time you news people see an old black man who happens to have a guitar in his house you assume he sings the blues?” asks the cantankerous Mud, after a rather fierce explanation that the guitar belongs to his grandson. “I don’t even like the blues – never did. And I can’t even hold a guitar, much less even play it. I did play the French horn as a teenager.”

This reporter, however, openly doubted the French horn claim and refused to be swayed by the objections of the Flat Iron Road resident and kept pushing the point, connecting the dots between the name, the heritage and the guitar. “You’re a racist bigot, is what you are,” claimed the excitable Mud, wagging a shaking finger in my face, “You assume I sing the blues because I’m old and black. You also assume I’m on welfare? That maybe I got the gout and the diabetes? Wrong again, I got none of those. I’m a vegetarian and I’m Jewish.”

“You white reporters always think too that I must be a blues artist because of my name,” Mud went on, “My grandfather’s name was Gumbo Lightnin Mud too, and he was born the son of a freed northern slave in 1851 and died wealthy in 1933 – how does that fit with your idiotic blues narrative? Shit fire, boy.”

In addition to the obviously bogus French horn claim, Mud also insists his son, Gumbo Lightnin Mud Jr, is a wealthy cosmetic surgeon in Atlanta, Georgia. “That’s Doctor Lightnin’ Mud to you, you, pretty boy.” Mud said. “And does this look like the shack of a dirt poor blues artist?” Mud waved his hands through the den of his 7,000-square-ft brick rancher, pointing out the 68” HD TV, Blu-Ray player and home theatre sound system. “It’s way past time for you to go.”

“The pundits are right,” Mud said as his driver picked me up to take me back to the office, “Low expectations is the softest of bigotries.”

Welcome to Doswell!

2012-02-03T09:25:00.001-05:00

Untitled from Hunter Brumfield on Vimeo.

Doswell Man Finds Waving a Handgun Exempts Him from Audience Participation-Style Musicals and Comedy Performances

2012-01-27T16:45:00.000-05:00

Westbend (R) getting ready to whip it out

Stating that his years of being embarrassed when suddenly picked to participate in local drama productions, high school musicals, cruise ship magic shows and theme park variety performances are over, Blanton Road resident Charlie Westbend has found a novel way to avoid being picked unexpectedly from those audience participation-style performances.

“Yes, I carry a handgun, and I’m not shy about waving it,” says the frustrated fan, who states he loves the theater but “have embarrassed myself for the last time” when it comes to audience involvement in those performances.

“Audience participation is a lose-lose proposition,” claims Westbend, who loves the 2nd amendment more than hokey stage performers. “If you refuse – like I tried to do during an animal act at the Pallazio in Reno, Nevada some years ago – they make you look like a spoil sport at best and a total asshole at worst. Then, if you agree and go up on stage, they make you look like an idiotic loser, like that hypnotist comedian on the Carnival Princess did when we went took a cruise to Freeport in 2008. I mean, how was I supposed to know I not only got an erection but my bowels released when hypnotized? It was humiliating.”

Westbend says that his current way of exempting himself from being picked for these types of performances so far is foolproof. “Once the handgun comes out, they immediately back away and pick somebody else for their little act. It’s a good thing too they don’t know the gun ain’t loaded.”

Mark Wahlberg: “I could have saved Joe Paterno’s life”

2012-01-25T19:25:00.000-05:00

Wahlberg saving the life of an
Italian Porn actress

Action movie celebrity “Marky” Mark Wahlberg stated yesterday evening after hearing of the death of former Penn State football coach Joe Paterno that had he been present at Paterno’s bedside he could have taken “drastic medical procedures” that would have saved the football legend’s life.

In addition to have been able to stop the 9/11 attacks (as he stated last week), Wahlberg says he would have initiated a series of “high-profile action maneuvers”, including grabbing the coach’s bed and pushing it fast down the hallway to an Operating room, where he would have either grabbed a huge syringe and plunged it into paterno’s chest cavity, or grabbed a charged set of paddles, rubbed them together while shouting “everyone stand back!”, then “Clear!” as he plunged the paddle’s on the coach’s chest, reviving his heart and bringing him back to health.

After reviving Paterno, the action star says he would have “clamored down the drainpipe outside the building, then jumped through the open moonroof of my BMW” before driving home to make up some stir fry and watch some “Frasier” reruns.

In addition to saving Joe Paterno, Wahlberg also says if on the scene, he also could have stopped the Titanic from sinking (or the Jim Cameron movie from being made), saved the Hindenburg, and “done a hell of a better job with a water belly landing” than Captain Chesley Sullenberg when emergency landing U.S. Airways flight flight 1549 on the Hudson River.

"First of all, I could have braked and banked the plane 90 degrees port to avoid that flock of geese," claims the Napoleonic actor, "Then skimmed the Hudson until we did a soft entry up on the sand bank on the east side. No harm, no foul, and nobpody would even get their shoes wet.

"They would be today calling it the 'Wahlberg Phenomenon' or something like that."

Watch the Video Trailer for my Upcoming Novel "Standers"!

2012-01-23T09:49:00.000-05:00

A production of the new Tidal Wave Studios, directed by Hunter Brumfield. "Standers" is being published by Iron Cauldron Books, Richmond Virginia. Publication date is March 31, 2012.

http://www.standersnovel.com/

http://www.ironcauldronbooks.com/

'Anonymous' Hacks News From Doswell in Deliberate Attempt to Steal Comedy Gold!

2012-01-21T21:08:00.000-05:00

Replaces original hilarious blog entry about “Half-Ton Teen Dance Mom” with a dry treatise on Ethics and Compliance in the insurance industry.

Blogger miffed, yet unable to remove offending hack.
Over the past few years, the insurance industry has been forced to confront numerous charges and concerns related to ethical standards and practices within its ranks. Few would argue that some consumers do not view the insurance industry in a positive light. Certainly one reason for this is that the average consumer does not fully understand or appreciate insurance products, but recognizes they are something that's needed. Consequently, these consumers rely on the insurance industry and its many and varied representatives to provide them with appropriate information, advice, products and service. In the majority of cases, this reliance has served the insurance buyer well. Unfortunately, when the confluence of events is such that the information or the service or the product later fails to live up to the consumer's expectation, charges of malfeasance or neglect arise - sometimes valid, sometimes not. When enough of these charges are heard, the regulators step in with new or revised requirements that are intended to reinforce ethical business practices.

Unfortunately, it's possible that the ever-expanding focus on the issue of ethics may, in the long run, serve to undermine the very essence of this important issue. As more and more requirements in the form of mandated insurer practices, producer education requirements and consumer information and disclosure guidelines become attached to the issue of ethics; they may unintentionally and unwittingly undermine the force of ethical standards.

How can this be? Aren't rules and requirements that support ethics a good thing? Don't they encourage better business practices? Don't they protect the position and rights of the consumer? The answer is yes - and no. When the pursuit of ethics is translated into and defined as a body of regulated practice requirements, it becomes "compliance." Depending or relying solely on compliance requirements in order to conform to ethical standards will surely fall short of the mark because there is a big difference between compliance and ethics.

Being "in compliance" with the law means adhering to a minimum set of required standards. Compliance requirements simply cannot embrace the whole of ethics or its spirit; statements of policy, laws and regulations cannot cover every issue or question or situation that may arise. Ethics goes beyond compliance; it appeals to a higher standard, a moral code. Ethics is a form of self-regulation, based on principles. Conforming to mandated compliance standards is what one must do; conforming to ethical standards is what one should do. Rarely do the two conflict; the difference is the scope of thought, words and conduct each entails. Compliance rules and requirements are associated with statutes and regulations and they find strength in the threat and reality of legal liability and recourse. In contrast, ethics - though grounded in the law - is associated with social responsibility and public welfare. An activity - or lack thereof - may be legal; it does not necessarily follow that it is also ethica[entry truncated]

Have you read the Excerpt from my Upcoming Novel "Standers"?

2012-01-20T12:01:00.000-05:00

See this and a lot more at Standersnovel.com!

...Before he pulled out onto the highway Jake turned on the radio. The FM band was blank across the board, with nothing but static except for 101.1, a presumed local station that ran a recorded announcement advising listeners to tune to one of the emergency AM frequencies to receive “news and official information”.

“. . . those frequencies in the Shenandoah Valley section 1, 2 and 3 listening areas,” said the digitized male voice, giving away its software manufacture by putting emphasis on the wrong syllables in between crackling bursts of interference, “are 610, 720, 1490, and 1510 on the AM band. Please tune in to these bands. This is KMZL 5-4-1.”

Jake flipped the radio to AM and tuned to 610. He caught the tail end of a recorded message but it replayed itself almost immediately, just like the tunnel traffic reports he used to hear going through the Hampton Roads bridge tunnel in Hampton, Virginia:

“Attention listeners in range of this broadcast,” the dreamy female voice commanded, almost sounding seductive in her delivery as she started her loop again for the umpteenth time. Suddenly reminded what women looked like, Jake sat up and took notice, almost feeling aroused at the sound of a female voice. That certainly was a feeling he never experienced in prison. “The department of Homeland Security, the FCC, the CDC and the United States military would like to remind everyone that admittance into section 1 and section 2 evacuation zones is expressly forbidden until further notice. Attempting to gain admission into either of these zones is prohibited, and could result in arrest and a charge of trespassing.”

Jake wondered why the Center for Disease Control suddenly had authority on admittance into the evacuation zones. Was there a pandemic issue? Were the standers now disease carriers? Shit, he hoped not, after just digging through the pockets of one of them to steal his phone and car keys.

“We appreciate your cooperation!” the female voice continued. “Please understand the safety of our citizens is our highest priority, and your government’s highest priority is to maintain law, order and stability during these unsettled times. Please remember too that it is a federal crime to touch or otherwise engage a standing corpse, either inside a cemetery or in a private burial site. Have a great day!”

Have a great day? Was she kidding? Jake suddenly remembered his shortwave friend and wondered if he was still going on the air every night at 2 AM. He never said “Have a great day”. He spoke the truth, and Jake suddenly missed him. He couldn’t wait to get home and see if he was still around.

Knowing that with helicopters patrolling the sky and gun-freak security manning the checkpoints, Jake was anxious to get off of the major routes and on the back roads. After a cursory check for more snooping choppers, he pulled the Camry out on Route 250 and turned east, driving fast only a half-mile or so before getting off on Route 608. Driving only a short distance he pulled over to look at his map. Jake had forgotten how good it felt to open up a fast car on what turned out to be a desolate stretch of highway.

Looking at his map he devised a route steering clear of Waynesboro and its section 2 evac status, concerned that the guards there may not be as understanding as the ones at the Staunton gate. Route 608 would take him out past the Interstate, where he could take back roads over near the town of Lyndhurst through Sherando, which would then take him either on Route 56 or another narrow route that was marked unpaved over the Blue Ridge mountains, bringing him out well south of the supposed dangerous city of Charlottesville. It looked like a plan.

Folding the map open to his route on the passenger seat, Jake took off down the twisting road, passing the newer housing projects (all sitting empty) and eventually into the country. He passed Tinkling Spring Church, which according to the sign was one of the oldest Presbyterian Churches in the Valley. The hospital across the road appeared empty as well.

The church’s ancient cemetery was filled with equally ancient standers, and as Jake drove past he could see the very old mouths and the skull-like faces and the stooped, gnarled bodies of the ancient, long-forgotten valley residents, who lay for a hundred years or more in peace but were now dragged up out of their dirt beds and protesting loudly about it.

Jake’s shut car windows and blowing a/c drowned out the hoarse screechings of the creaky elders, but Jake saw quite clearly their tattered, shredded burial clothes, their wide-open mouths and unhinged jaws, and their jerking, spasmodic heads and necks. They were not at all happy about being pulled from their resting places, and a shiver of fright raced through Jake as he sped by, glancing at the horrible display as if it were an unfolding car accident that he couldn’t tear away from. He may be becoming a leader among the living, but he had little tolerance for the standing dead.

As the Interstate 64 highway loomed ahead, Jake looked closely, noticing not one car – which was a good thing, as no cars meant there were no security personnel trying to catch them. He zoomed under the bridge and continued on his way toward the town of Stuarts Draft.

After a few more miles, just as the loneliness of the empty road began lulling him into a perpetual state of daydream, Jake startled to see a 1970-style pickup truck in the road ahead, driving slowly toward him. Slowing down, Jake’s heart skipped as he craned to see the driver, worried that it was going to be a security guard or a Black Iron Commander or some such ogre driving an unmarked vehicle. The truck slowed as well, but the driver made no effort to initiate communication. Jake could see it was an older, confused-looking man behind the wheel, and he hesitantly slowed and rolled down his electric window as he pulled alongside of him.

He was an unshaven man, perhaps in his 60s. He looked warily at Jake for a few seconds as they stopped beside each other before he cranked down his window only a couple of inches.

“I ain’t got any food with me.” the man said, obviously startled by Jake’s gaunt and unshaven appearance but somewhat impressed with his immaculate car.

“It’s OK,” Jake answered, “I have food.”

“You with the police?” the man asked, “You gotta say so if you are.”

“I can tell you with all honesty I am not a policeman, nor am I with the military or the government,” Jake answered, relieved that the man seemed to be a plain farmer civilian. He knew, however, that the man was staring at his brilliant, divine eyes.

“Did you come from Staunton or Waynesboro?” the man asked, “Are the roads open?”

“They’re not open, and I suspect they won’t be open for a while,” Jake said, “I was told by the guards at Staunton that I should stay away from the cities, especially Charlottesville, because they’re too dangerous. Where the hell is everybody?”

“Not a clue.” The man said flatly. “Me and my wife, we got a disabled grown daughter, we hid when the army guys come knocking. She needs medicine, but I can’t find none.”

Jake debated telling the man too much, lest he be a spy, or worse.

The man shook his grey head in exasperation. Jake thought he was probably a lot younger than he looked. He too was a survivor, and the wear and tear of living hand-to-mouth in a war zone showed on every line in his weather-beaten face. “World’s gone to shit.” the man said with no fanfare, and probably eager to not give away his life story to Jake either.

“Are there more people around this area?” Jake asked, trying to be friendly but realizing his question sounded suspiciously like he was trolling for more civilians to round up. “I mean, I’m not tryin’ to . . . do you know of any . . .”

The man put his truck in gear and started cranking up his window. “Nice talkin’ to ya.” He muttered as he hurriedly drove off.

We’re breeding suspicion, Jake thought as he watched through his rear view mirror the man drive away.

Coming March 31, 2012

Published by Iron Cauldron Books

http://www.ironcauldronbooks.com/

$487 Million x 329,445 Abortions ≑ 2,406 Adoptions = Ka-Ching!

2012-01-17T15:10:00.001-05:00

Planned Parenthood Celebrates latest death tallies

By Art Mutt, NFD Guest liberal columnist

According to its latest annual report, the Planned Parenthood Federation of America received $487.4 million in tax dollars over a twelve-month period while performing 329,455 abortions and only 2,405 adoption referrals, marking the most productive year yet for the nation’s largest and most efficient baby-killing government-funded monolith.

“We are thrilled with the latest statistics,” claimed PPFA President Cecile Richards from her 9th circle underground sewer, surrounded by feces-flinging faceless homunculi. “We achieved a reimbursement rate of $1,478 and some change in taxpayer money for every abortion we performed. That’s higher than Medicaid reimbursements for nursing home care! We are proud and thrilled with the progress we are making in ridding America of those undesirables – plus getting all that taxpayer dough is just icing on the cake.”

President Obama called in his congratulations from his Disneyworld villa upon hearing the news. “If only the Post Office were as efficient as Planned Parenthood!” he joked.

The latest report shows an almost steady increase in the number of abortions performed at its clinics from previous years: In 2006, Planned Parenthood oversaw 289,750 abortions; in 2007, it was 305,310; in 2009, 331,796; and, in 2010, it did 329,445 – a small decrease from the previous year.

“2010 was a tough year for eugenics – oops I mean women’s rights,” stated Richards, correcting herself. “While we performed fewer abortions, we only had 841 adoption referrals, so in comparison we actually outperformed other years, but the spreadsheets don’t always portray the true story.”

“But today we are back on top, continuing our founder Margaret Sanger’s goal of producing a ‘race of thoroughbreds’, or like Bela Lugosi once said “A rrrrace of supermen!”

But not everyone is celebrating Planned Parenthood’s exciting year. Pro-life extremist, right-wing woman-hating teabagging baby-hugging president of the Susan B. Anthony List, Marjorie Dannenfelser called the organization an “abortion giant” that deserves – gasp – defunding.

“With over a billion in net assets and a business model centered on abortion and government subsidies, it is time for Planned Parenthood to end its reliance on taxpayer dollars,” Dannenfelser said in a statement. “Despite an unprecedented effort by statewide and federal leaders to defund them, a wave of former employees willing to testify against them, Planned Parenthood continues full-steam ahead.”

“Dannenfelser is crazy,” stated Richards as she tore the meat off a bird-like carcass with finely-honed dagger-like teeth at a table adorned with candelabras made from human skulls, “What she doesn’t realize is the more babies we kill in the womb, the fewer elderly people nutty republicans like her will be able to eventually push off cliffs in their wheelchairs. So she is angry that we are depriving her and others like her of that pleasure.”

“So it just makes good business sense.”

Doswell Blogger Announces New Novel!

2012-01-09T18:44:00.000-05:00

Doswell Blogger Dale Brumfield proudly announces the impending release of his 5th novel, "Standers"!

Visit the Website at Standersnovel.com

The dead are standing on their graves.

News From Doswell Celebrates Third Anniversary!

2012-01-02T14:55:00.004-05:00

January 3, 2012 marks the third anniversary of News From Doswell, named “The funniest blog in Doswell” for the third consecutive year.

Early News From Doswell Staff.

From its humble start January 3, 2009 with 2 daily page views, the blog has now mushroomed in size, garnering billions -- no, trillions -- of daily page views, almost tripling its readership (except for that one entry in 2010 that had a single page view), kicking major butt of all those other bloggers in the Richmond area.

News from Doswell started that cold January day set in hot lead on a Colossus PC that sat comfortably atop a railroad flatcar out front of the Doswell Quarry. From the loins of that inauspicious beginning sprang a staff of 72 technicians, engineers, medical professionals, editors, proofreaders, flunkies, hangers-on, excess baggage, dead weight and loiterers, all who toiled tirelessly sometimes 8 hours a day, 4 or 5 days a week to bring the latest happenings of the Doswell area to demanding readers, who refused to stop being demanding, and clogged our email and voice mails with suggestions, tips and complaints, but mostly complaints.

Babs, our original proofreader

Highlights of the past three years:

2-12-09: Woman orders kids out of yard with flabby tricep.

7-10-09: Doswell man paralyzed from waist up reveals new career choice.

7-28-09: Goodwill scam exposed.

12-30-09: Confusing directions to Doswell New Year’s eve party results in many sudden disappearances.

6-14-10: Media Dinosaurs exposed.

7-27-10: Sgt Barry’s Bleeding Hearts Club Band forms, Album lyrics printed exclusively by NFD.

9-28-10: Effect of Ken Cuccinelli on liberal brain exposed.

5-5-11: Sgt. Tank Furious & his Brassball Battalion relate TRUE story of how Bin Laden was taken out.

10-28-11: Robbie Wood found alive; God credited.

11-21-11: Penthouse magazine scam exposed.

11-29-11: Cynthia Carrnivosaurus unearthed under Richmond streets

Watch this space in Spring, 2012 for a major announcement. Thanks for your support and don’t forget to keep reading!

Former Richmond Porn Shop to Reopen as Taco Stand

2011-12-30T20:51:00.001-05:00

. . .And the irony is lost on the entire city.

Remnants: A Novel about God, Insurance and Quality Floorcoverings - an Excerpt

2011-12-27T21:39:00.000-05:00

Note: My 2nd book and 1st novel "Remnants" can be ordered at Amazon HERE.
Excerpt from Chapter 15:

"...The ghostly figure was Will, the friendly truck driver who had come into the store earlier, either that morning, last week or a month ago, and told Mac of driving from Dallas and hearing on the radio of President Kennedy being shot. Like earlier, he was still dressed in his characteristic denim coveralls, and his truck was backed to the bay door, tight up against the loading dock.

From his silent dark corner Mac held his breath and watched as Will handed Jarvis similar boilerplate invoices just like the ones he had refused to sign earlier. Calm, and appearing fully composed, Jarvis tilted his glasses down his nose, looking very much like a typical accountant or bookkeeper as he studied the invoices like they were deliveries of faceless office supplies or crates of string beans to be stocked in the local Kroger. Jarvis then spoke very animated but in a low voice to Will, who listened patiently as Jarvis pointed to certain items on the papers.

Will nodded, then turned, walked back onto the dock, bent down and unlatched the truck’s door. Jarvis re-shuffled the invoices, signed every one of them, then watched.

Mac rubbed his eyes in frustration when he realized Will the truck driver was conspiring with Jarvis – yet another person who could not be trusted! Mac was suddenly glad he did not let Will unload earlier, as he was very concerned about what was really inside his truck – he had a sinking feeling it was not carpet and tile, or string beans or anything else as benign as that.

As he watched breathlessly Will rotated the truck door handle ninety degrees and with great effort raised the door open. Mac was aghast at what was inside the truck, ready to unload. In fact, he had to rub his eyes yet again when he finally could see what was contained back there.

The truck was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with dozens of teeming Leon Jarvises, all dressed identically and in various states of physical deformation. Mac sat there between the crates dumb-struck – Leon Jarvis clones had been prepared by somebody or something but they were malformed, inferior knock-offs of the original, pathetically squeezed into the back of the truck like deformed illegal aliens kicked out of turn-of-the-century Mexican sanitariums, dressed identically in short-sleeve lime green shirts, skinny ties and sent across the border to fend for themselves in the Texas desert. They looked like a truckload of off-brand, damaged computer hacks and comic book devotees, packed in so tightly they could barely move.

The first Jarvis to hop out of the truck onto the dock looked just like the real Leon but had one eye and only one left arm and limped badly. The next one looked as if the whole right side of his face and body had melted then refroze. The next one had no legs, and dragged his withered torso off the truck bed with his hands and fell unceremoniously to the dock, where he righted and dragged himself toward the bay opening leading into the store, his blank face showing no pain or emotion.

On and on it went; dozens of misshapen Jarvis clones, each wearing the same ill-fitting short-sleeve nerd shirt and a skinny grey tie walked, crawled, slithered, rolled or dragged out of the truck; stepped, flopped or hopped down onto the dock then disappeared inside the dark, dirty niches of the Linoleum store like cockroaches turned loose. None of them spoke or acknowledged Will or the real Jarvis, who stood to one side, still clutching the invoices and watching them impassively. Mac shuddered at one duplicate gingerly stepping out whose chest cavity and abdominals were missing and had to carry his lungs and intestines spilling from his torso in his hands. None of them were normal or even close to normal – then again, what constituted normal in this whole stinking scenario?

After what seemed to be about a hundred deformed clones fell from the truck like wasps dropping from a nest set on fire by a middle school bully, the last one that emerged seemed to have no skull, and his eyes and mouth hung limply down around his throat, his pink jelly-like brain exposed and bobbing back and forth, covered with flecks of dirt and dust. The clone before him had neither arms nor legs, and it struggled on its belly, falling face first out of the truck the 24 inches down to the dock, then rocking back and forth slowly toward the bay door, its head soaking wet, like it was the most natural thing in the world..."

Kim Jong Il Dead, Kim Jong Kardashian Named Successor

2011-12-21T13:51:00.000-05:00

North Korean Leader Sprung from loins of turtledoves.

(Reprinted from the Pyongyang Sentinal-Exponent)
The magnificent capitalistic monarchy of North Korea, gloriously saddened by the sudden death of Dear leader Kim Jong Il, and powerful and hardy accolades of self-preserving applause greets the celebrated successor of our former superb dear leader, that being immaculate leader Kim Jong Kardashian, offspring of the loins of celebrated turtle doves that erupted from the white mountains of Pyongyang at the announcement of the passing of our celebrated once dear leader, Kim Jong il!

Let chest thumpings commence as the immaculation of our face-painted leader of the glorious republic assumes the position of! Loud huzzahs fail to impeccably capture the dynamacy of the moment, as immaculate leader Kim Jong Kardashian, clad in clouds of deific prominence, and shorn in puffed up hair, magnificent sunglasses and velvet track suits found so consoling to our former dead leader, comes to our grand country to assure the peaceful democratic assumption of glorious relations with nearby neighbors and peaceful transitions to neighborly kindness so embraced by former dear leader, Kim Jong il. Food and water are unnecessary to the well-being Republic of Korean peoples as the immaculate leader Kim Jong Kardashian shall provide all, and including nourishment.

So let us commence the proud welcoming of the fruit of the turteldove’s loins, as sprung forth is the glorious immaculation of Kim Jong Kardashian, soothing leader of the people of North Korea!

Doswell Christmas Schedule at the Ruritan Single-Purpose Room

2011-12-19T12:08:00.000-05:00

Doswell Catering Van

Dec. 20, 7 PM: Dad n’ Lad Remedial Christmas Caroling – Carols sung phonetically for those who have trouble reading lyrics, especially that one carol “Good King Whatisface”

Dec. 21, 12 noon: Worship Services for shut-ins.

Dec. 21, 6 PM: “Christmas Shoes” sing-along, with local quintet King Butterworth and his Sharps and Flats. Followed by hot cider & cold donuts provided by Doswell Catering.

Dec. 22, 7 PM: “A Christmas Story”. Play based on the hit movie, performed by the Doswell Ruriteens. Followed by coffee and cigarettes.

Dec. 23, 4 PM: For our littlest Doswellians - Santa arrives on his ATV, pulled by Hank Wagner’s 8 tiny Pit Bulls. Candy toss has been postponed.

Dec.24, 5 PM: Santa Sky Watch: bring your binoculars and keep an eye on the skies for Santa’s sleigh. If no sleigh is spotted feel free to drink heavily, but no driving.

Dec. 26, 10 AM: Doswell Christmas Tree Smackdown: volunteers remove ornaments and tinsel from Doswell tree, cut down tree, chuck it in the dumpster.

Dec. 31, 11:55 PM: New Years Eve at the Dixie Treat Trailer Court. The Wine District will be open at 11:55. No fighting.

Ho Ho Ho! S’anta is comin to the mall ya'll!

2011-12-16T11:32:00.000-05:00

Virginia Center Commons Mall is bringing back S’ANTA, ‘cause this Claus is the boss – the ONLY hip hop Claus in the Mall

Brand new old school expansive hardcore live analog record diggin’ bodyrockin’ show-stoppin’ boom bap satisfaction Hip Hop, Rap, 90s and 2000s funk and soul, Breaks, Mash-Ups and keepin’ the GHETTO FUNK alive… go on and practice the Electric Slide, Shuffle Slide, Richmond Slide, the Mayor Jet Jaguar Jones Dance …cause we Christmas party till the break of dawn!

Sing Along with S’anta:
Doin’ the VCC

I've never been yer jolly S’anta

Don't need a gangsta beat to make me re-gift ya

I'll wrap ya while getting’ blown in the hurricane booth

In the Pagoda you pierce and tat’ & flash that gold tooth

Better than y'all, keep yer cheap Spencer crap

While I rap a thousand miles an hour in a red stockin cap

Old Navy dead, I’m in the empty store stalkin’

Drive a limo through ya Burlington, parallel parkin

The old Claus was capped in a bloody Dillard wreck

Sleigh disaster so nasty they gave his ass a FEMA check

Barbecuin’ Rudolph, this can’t be happenin

This S’anta is rantin’, I pre-date homo sapien

Food Court ladies hawkin’ Blitzen on toothpicks

Blaze a DTLR for Yuletide Jimmy Jazz kicks

S’anta rose from the ashes of a Pac Sun-rise cheer

I’m the expert conjurer, badder than the reindeer

I’ll devour all your cookies and swallow your milk

Hit through light, fartin’ through Lane Bryant silk

FYE once I smite with my sack, you never be right

Your guard on a segway flexin his might

I've used every word possible to tell what I can do

You ain't legitimate, posin like a elf, you

Dude I'll throttle you, hand you a manners card and forty ounce bottle you

VCC Yo…

Doswell Man Dismayed to Discover he has been Depositing his Paycheck in a Red Box for Last 5 Months

2011-12-13T09:08:00.000-05:00

Strumberg (L) waiting to deposit. "I thought
all that stuff was just ads."

Thinking that the large red box in the Walmart foyer was an ATM, Doswell bonehead Walt Strumberg is now embroiled in a battle with the Red Box company to get back his last 10 paychecks that he deposited in the DVD slot.

“I thought the screen was just some kind of advertising,” claims the panicky Bull Finch Road resident, “and no, I didn’t bother to read all the instructions that popped up. I just kept hitting ‘yes’ until the screen instructed to ‘deposit in the slot at right’. It’s all very confusing, and now I’m kind of pissed about the whole thing.”

A Red Box spokeswoman said that no one has ever confused their movie distribution units for an ATM before, so their process for how to proceed regarding Strumberg is murky at best. “We had a local servicing tech for that location, however, he resigned about two weeks ago. It is possible he was retrieving Mr. Strumberg’s paychecks from the unit, but he claims he did not. A new technician was just hired and he has not found any paychecks deposited in that unit.”

Newsfromdoswell found the name and contacted the former technician – an Ashland resident named George Winder, who now works for a local recycling firm off Lewistown Road. “I told Red Box and I’m telling you I never found no paychecks in the box,” he said after his shift, shifting uncomfortably in a brand new leather coat. “And I got nothing more to say about it.” Winder then grumpily got into his Trans Am and left, its brand new tires and spinners tearing away in a cloud of dust.

Branscomb Concrete verified that the checks were cashed but has no copies of them because apparently they were cashed at one of those Iranian food marts over near the Richmond Fairgrounds and they are filtered through some overseas bank that does not provide images.

For now a sheepish and now broke Strumberg claims from here on out he will be depositing his paycheck in a normal ATM and not Red Box, for sure. “There’s an ATM right in front of Rite-Aid in Ashland,” he says, “And I am positive it is not a Red Box because it’s blue.”

National Association of Men with Slicked-Back Hair Object to Embattled MF Global CEO Jon Corzine Showing up in Court with Slicked-Back Hair

2011-12-09T09:24:00.001-05:00

Corzine with normal dry hair as NJ Governor (L) and yesterday at hearing with
slicked-back hair (R): The felon is gellin'.

Saying they are fighting a losing battle in the media and in Hollywood against negative stereotypes of men with slicked-back hair, the National Association of Men with Slicked-Back Hair issued a court-order against MF Global head Jon Corzine for showing up any more with slicked-back hair for hearings with the Agricultural Committee to answer questions about the collapse of his brokerage firm and the disappearance of up to $1.2 billion in customer money.

“Again, we are fighting a negative stereotype,” stated Association president Ray Swartz, whose past battles with Hollywood were widely reported in May, 2008. “By showing up in court with slicked-back hair, Corzine is only reinforcing the stereotype that men with slicked-back hair are corrupt, emotionless, manipulative greedy assholes.”

Corzine – already a walking example of the Peter Principle, as outlined in the famous 1969 book by Dr. Laurence J. Peter that states that In a hierarchically structured administration, people tend to be promoted up to their level of incompetence – has been fired from Goldman-Sachs, been voted out of the Senate and the New Jersey Governor’s office, and is now answering questions as to what happened to about $1.2 billion of investors money that seems to have disappeared while he was CEO of MF Global, a brokerage firm. Corzine insists that everything is being done to locate the missing money, including looking behind the lunch room refrigerator, under the break room sofa cushions and in his other pants pockets, where he thinks he may have left it.

Corzine in his testimony was also harsh in regards to the trouble he had adapting the new look in DC. “This [Washington] doesn’t look like a one-horse town,” Corzine said in response to a barrage of questioning from Senators Joel and Ethan Coen about his new look, “But try finding a decent hair jelly.”

“Add to the fact that Corzine is not only incompetent and corrupt, but now wears his hair slicked-back, only complements his inadequacies in the financial sector,” states Swartz. “I wonder if his PR people realize what they are doing, and why he is such as willing stooge for the slicked-back look, given his career choice.”

It is unknown why Corzine elected to start wearing slicked-back hair, although some have speculated he is trying to emulate Michael Douglas’ character Gordon Gekko in the movie “Wall Street”, or possibly any number of other slicked-back film and television villains and buttwipes, including Count Dracula, Christopher Walken, Alec Baldwin Steven Seagal and Japanese gangsters,

“Whatever he’s trying to do, the AMSBH is hopeful our cease and desist order will be in effect, and that he will resume wearing his hair dry and natural.” Said Swartz.

Trapped Under the Pack-Ice: An Excerpt from my eBook

2011-12-06T16:46:00.001-05:00

Chapter 1

Introductory

In which the motivation of the Commodore is explained . . . the purpose of the voyage . . . the reasons for sailing alone and underwater . . . the nautical experience of the Commodore

On September 1, 1835, Commodore Craigmont T Amsterdam, First Secretary of the Royal Navy’s Polar Explorer Society and Mechanical Engineer in modest standing with the British Engineering Society, launched from dockside on the spit joining Labrador and northern Quebec, on the east tip of Ungava Bay at Kilineck, at the mouth of the Hudson Strait in northern Canada, a single-man, self-propelled bathysphere of his own design and engineering in an attempt to find and secure the mythical north-west passage, from the Hudson Bay to the Behring Strait via the ice-locked waterways betwixt the islands and peninsulas above 77° north latitude.

The Amsterdam bathysphere was a marvel of engineering and construction of its day, that being 1835. A rugby-ball-shaped riveted iron vessel, stout and hardy, designed to travel at depths of no more than 500 meters, untethered to any surface ships, and driven by manual pedals adaptable to either foot or hand-power to patented twin screws. A rudder connected by a heat-treated shaft through a water-tight bung, affixed to a steering mechanism inside the bathysphere, provided a most pleasurable and somewhat reliable steering experience. Portholes sealed with leaded glass fore, aft and starboard afforded unobstructed and enjoyable views of the surrounding sea. A pointed explanation of the engineering of the vessel waits, later in this chapter, in more excruciating detail.

The Commodore’s reasoning for using a bathysphere of his own design was that normal coal steamers – such as those used by Capt. Buchan in his ill-fated voyage at Spitzbergen in 1818; by Ross through Davis Strait in that same year; and by Franklin in the disastrous Coppermine expedition of 1820; and even later of the terrible and little-known Dickinson expedition of 1830 around the west coast of Greenland (when Capt. Dickinson himself panicked and succumbed to cannibalism prior to even being trapped in pack-ice, before any crew died or were even starving) were too prone to being locked in the pack-ice of the Arctic Circle, sometimes for years at a time due to their unhealthy fixation on surface vessels and their obstinate insistence on using them.

“Surface steamers are so 1818” Amsterdam was fond of uttering.

Amsterdam also was quite anxious to thumb his nose also at Captain James Ross, who two years previous returned from a difficult voyage of no more than 69 degrees latitude, where he failed to find the isthmus at Boothia or at Brentford Bay, returning home starved, freezing and disappointed, yet still receiving a medal of courage from the vice-provost of the Royal Navy Academy for his work at attempting to pinpoint the magnetic pole. Amsterdam frequently clashed with the temperamental Ross, and was anxious to show the dejected captain that he was more than capable in paddling circles him, when given ample opportunity.

While the underwater mode of travel utilized by the bathysphere rendered it immune to such travails suffered by the “bombers” of the day; those sturdy, above-water oak- and steel-plated crafts of previous (and expectantly failed) expeditions, the commodore imagined himself breezing uninhibitedly underneath the raging, impenetrable ice and pitiless, suffocating darkness, pedaling madly, free of distractions and weather-related obstructions, traversing the passage then emerging back to the surface north of the Alaska peninsula, where he would be greeted with rounds of huzzahs by the Alaskan and Kamchatkin Esquimauxs, his name forever enshrined and commemorated as the discoverer of the mythical north-west passage, in a robust bathysphere of his own design. . .

You can order "Trapped Under the Pack-Ice" for you Kindle HERE. Order it for your Nook HERE. Only $2.99!

"A damn fine read."

-Richmond Graphic Artist Doug Dobey

Doswell Dad Sets His Kids Straight on Owning a Crappy ladder

2011-12-04T14:44:00.000-05:00

The Brumfield guys in happier times, when they're not arguing
about the crappy ladder. Jake at left seems to be having trouble breathing.

“Do you know anyone who owns a brand new ladder? Me either!”

Doswell blogger, dad and incurable home handyman Dale Brumfield Sunday had to set his kids down and explain the realities of ladder ownership after weathering numerous complaints from twin sons Hunter and Jake regarding the lack of confidence they had in the rickety, unstable ladder they had to stand on while putting up Christmas decorations.

“You should have heard the complaining about my ladder,” Brumfield said, “But they need to understand the unwritten rule is you can only buy one ladder in your lifetime. And just because my ladder is over 22 years old and getting ready to bust apart doesn’t mean I can just drop everything and go buy a new one. No, I’m afraid a ladder is forever.”

The boys disagree, maintaining that their dad is just too cheap to go buy a new one. “I guess one of us has to ride that ladder to the ground before dad realizes it has seen better days,” said Jake.

Dad disagrees, stating that part of the beauty of being a successful home handyman is the hair-raising uncertainty that frequently accompanies standing on the top rung of a creaking, leaning ladder while you clean a gutter, unstop a chimney or nail down errant roof tiles. “They have yet to experience that jolt of adrenaline you get when you’re way up a ladder against the side of the house, juggling a paint roller, pan and brush when that ladder suddenly scoots a foot to the right when you’re least expecting it. I tell you, there’s nothing like it.”

Brumfield relates an amusing anecdote that occurred years ago at his Bellevue home in Richmond’s north side. “I had my ladder extended all the way out, leaning against the slope of my roof, and I was on the top rung scraping paint in the eaves when that ladder suddenly slid like it was greased across the roof and only stopping when it hit the downspout. And below me was a pointed picket fence that would have speared me like a cheap Brumfield shish-kabob if I fell. But I learned a valuable lesson from that horrific experience, and that was to tie off my ladder with tie-wire to the chimney when I was up that high.”

His sons, however, are not impressed. “I’m not using that piece of sh*t ladder for anything,” said Hunter. “If I can’t reach it on my tiptoes it ain’t worth reaching.”

Brumfield also discounts alternatives to standing on a busted ladder, including stacked paint buckets, tall chairs or dangling from an open window above the spot being worked on.

Dad Dale says that his boys better get used to it. “My dad had the same ladder for over 40 years,” he claims, “so mine has plenty of good, unstable, erratic and heart-stopping years left.”

Obama Raises Millions from the Hated 1% after Raising $47 from Wall Street Occupiers

2011-12-01T13:36:00.000-05:00

$47? Give me a friggin' break.

"No winning President ever got elected with funding from poor people living in tents."
Despite White House Senior Adviser David Plouffe embracing the Occupy Wall Street protests on behalf of President Barack Obama in an interview with Good Morning America in October, the President turned to the “hated 1%” for his reelection fundraising needs after complaining that his $1 per plate fundraiser down at Zucotti Park netted a grand total of $47.

“Now what am I gonna do with $47?” the President asked as counted and smoothed out the wadded dollar bills and stained dimes and nickels in the back seat of the Presidential limo as he pulled away from Zucotti on his way to a “now this is more like it” $35,800-per-plate gala at Gotham Bar and Grill.

“I love the 1%,” Obama said as he pocketed the occupy money, “I can demonize them all day long, call them fat cats and whatever, yet they write $35,000 checks at the drop of a hat. It’s awesome.”

"Eat the Rich? Go right ahead, right after they stroke a check to my reelection campaign!"

An Obama spokesman said that the President will not be doing any more fundraisers with the Occupy movement. “While the President is sympathetic to the movement, and wishes it great success, being rich is really where it’s at. No winning President ever got elected with funding from poor people living in tents.”

Cynthia Carrnivorsaurus Unearthed from Sewers, Now Auditing Amuck Through City

2011-11-29T11:12:00.003-05:00

In happier times: Cyncarr the Berserk
(R) with fellow city auditor

Awakened from slumber, "Cyncarr the Berserk" seeking sustenance from Richmond Tea Party

What was to be a simple Halloween bulldozing operation ordered into Kanawha Plaza by Richmond Mayor Jet Jaguar Jones to remove the tents and possessions of the Richmond Occupiers unintentionally scraped a little too deep, unwittingly unleashing a new scourge on the city, going by the name “Cynthia Carrnivorsaurus”, or as it is more commonly known as “Cyncarr the Berserk”.

Normally confined 4 days a week and a half-day on Fridays to the bowels of the Richmond City building in a swampy no-mans-land known as the Finance Auditor’s office, the Cyncarr was awakened from its quarterly taxation slumber by the roar of the heavy equipment, and the first target of the mouth-breathing, pencil-pushing terror of the deep was to fire off a blistering documentation request to the Richmond Tea party, just as they were requesting a reimbursement for the fees they had to pay for assembling that the occupiers did not.

“If you want that deduction,” the Cyncarr roared during its reign of error, “then you must produce a receipt!”

Stomping and comptrolling, the Cyncarr roared up the elevator to get final approval of its brickbat to the grassroots organization before stopping off at the copier to toner-spawn an evil twin for the city files.

Then the residuals flew as the single-purposed tiny-brained Cyncarr – amortizing in a blinding sun in which it was not accustomed – stormed in a straight-line method out onto the sidewalk, aghast citizens giving wide berth as the bookkeeping beast roared to the post office, crunching numbers in its wake as its creator, Mayor Jet Jaguar Jones, watched in numb bemusement through binoculars from his perch in city hall.

"Dear God, I’ve created an appreciating, spread-sheeting bipedal monster” he said from under his desk.

Richmond roadways buckled and water lines sputtered as the Cyncarr exited from the post office after cramming the tea party audit notice into the “local only” slot, slobbering in confidence that the tea-seeking missive would reach its intended target in a day or two and explode all over the internet.

Meanwhile, Richmond Occupiers snickered in countercultural delight at the tea party dilemma as they remained trapped in their tents by the awful old woman who continued to stand just on the other side of the fence and yell “You occupiers get out of that yard!” while periodically sending volleys of waggling droopy, flabby arm wattle over their tents.

Once the letter bomb was signed and delivered, the Cyncarr angrily found its way back to its underground lair in the auditor’s office, its locust-like reign of terror depreciating in expected value.

…or is it?

Evidence of the Cyncarr's reign of error

Richmond Occupiers told to “Get out of that yard” by Old woman waving flabby Tricep

2011-11-23T15:53:00.000-05:00

Yeats tricep: Pretty darn scary

Richmond occupiers camping out in Richmond Free Press publisher Ray Boone’s yard were horrified when they were told to “Get out of that yard” by an older woman in a sleeveless shirt and an apron who stood in the yard beside them, pointing and waggling her flabby mudflap of a tricep in their direction.

Doris Yeats of Doswell’s Old Ridge Road was recruited by Mayor Dwight Jones to try to scare the occupiers from Boone’s yard by waving her drooping upper arm adipose in their direction because of her success in Doswell of scaring young kids out of her own yard by the same method.

Many of the occupiers ran into their tents upon hearing her raspy crone-like voice and seeing the slap-slapping wave of her upper arm flab, although it has yet to induce any of them to actually leave the yard.

“I can stand there all day and just yell ‘You occupiers get out of that yard’ with no effect whatsoever, but when I raise my arm and jiggle that hanging, trembling underarm wattle they always bolt” She says.

The Richmond Occupy spokesman known only as “Sunchip” told Newsfromdoswell that although Ms. Yeatts was “scary”, it’s going to take a lot more than a grumpy old bat chastising them while waving her sagging appendage meat to force them to leave.

“Now, of course, if we are violating some city ordinance against outdoor camping, or are in violation of some neighborhood association ruling barring tent camping, then we will gladly leave,” said Sunchip.

Upon hearing that admission from the occupy leader, Mayor Dwight Jones responded by saying “Hmmm…” while rubbing his chin, forcing him to reconsider his earlier idea of treating all the occupiers with complimentary aerosol vegetable spray.

Richmond Occupiers to Receive Free Aerosolized Vegetable Spray

2011-11-22T13:57:00.000-05:00

Occupier: 2 or 3 servings
should do it

“What do we want? Free vegetable spray!” “When do we want it? NOW!”

Noting that the occupiers in the yard next across from his looked a little “sickly and malnourished”, Richmond Mayor Dwight Jones announced an initiative to give the occupiers free servings of aerosolized vegetable spray, starting next Monday.

“It pains me greatly to see these young people living in tents and eating poorly-prepared, nutrient-free meals,” said the Mayor. “So as mayor, I am going to appropriate funds from the general fund to give this vegetable spray to the occupiers. Believe me, it is the least I can do as my way of saying sorry after the Kanawha fiasco.” (Richmond police broke up the Kanawha occupation at 1 AM Halloween night, drawing heavy criticism for their heavy-handed tactics).

Starting on Monday, November 28, a Richmond city employee will arrive at Dwight Jones’ home across the road from the home of Richmond Free Press Publisher Roy Boone, the current site of the Occupy Richmond movement. “I would like the occupiers camping in Mr. Boone’s yard then to come out front and sit down on the sidewalk,” said Jones, adding that then the city employee will then go from occupier to occupier, giving them a complimentary does of the healthy vegetable spray.

Occupy Richmond leaders were glad there seemed to be improvement in the relations between them and the Mayor after the announcement of the vegetable spray initiative. “The Mayor’s caving,” said a spokesman who went by the name “Sunchip”. “I hope this is not a trick – I mean, is it organic vegetable spray, from veggies hand-picked by immigrants? We don’t want some kind of mass produced, over-processed spray full of artificial additives.”

Mayor Dwight Jones: You kids get out
of that yard

“Oh, this vegetable spray is VERY organic,” the Mayor reiterated. “It is an extract from vegetables commonly used in such everyday foods from exotic places like India and Thailand. It is delicious, healthy and chockful of vitamins. And I know too that is has a very very small amount of red coloring to enhance the, um, dining experience.”

Occupiers in Boone’s yard who wish to receive the complimentary veggie spray should be out on the sidewalk no later than 9:00 AM, Monday, November 28.

Bob Guccione Admits from Hell that Doswell Man Wrote Every Letter to Penthouse Forum from 1973 – 1987

2011-11-21T12:59:00.000-05:00

Lowery: Randy letter writer

“Even an idiot could see they were all written the same.”
Doswell resident Robert Lowery has admitted in a shocking interview published at Adultdirectory.com that he was the sole author of every letter written to Penthouse magazine for 14 straight years, from 1973 up until he retired in 1987.

“Yea, it was me,” said the randy scrivener, “I can’t believe this is such a shock to everybody – I mean even an idiot could see they were all written the same.”

Lowery says he was a student at a “small mid-western university” when he got the gig from publisher and editor Bob Guccione. “I used that ‘I am a student at a small mid-western university’ line thousands of times, and it proved to be a winner, even though it wasn’t at all accurate.”

Lowery also says that many other terms he invented were used thousands of times, with no one the wiser that they all came from the same author. “I was fond of 70’s terms like ‘honeypot’, ‘tool’, ‘raring to go’, ‘quivering’ and ‘blooming’ and others, and mixed them up every way I could think of.”

Reached in the 7th circle of Hell for comment, former Penthouse Magazine publisher Bob Guccione admitted during a marathon session of having his skin boiled and filleted off in ribbons and the underlying raw tissue scrubbed with wire brushes soaked in carbolic acid that Lowery indeed had been hired on a free-lance basis to pen all the letters to the magazine within a year or two of its startup. “Lowery had a good resume and his samples were superb,” Guccione claimed in between shrieks as his large intestine was pulled from his rectum and wrapped around a thorny stick by a minion of Mammon. “His grasp of imaginary sexual proclivities and his setting of those proclivities at small mid-western universities kept the magazine grounded in Americana, even though other areas of the magazine appealed to more international tastes.”

Guccione: AAAGGHHH!!!

Guccione had to cut the interview short since he was late for his appointment at the 8th circle to be sodomized by Mastema the Usurper’s enormous barbed halberd-penis and its ejaculate of molten sand. “I’d certainly like to hear how Mr. Lowery describes what is about to happen to me!” says the thrice-damned publisher as he tries to exit the area on legs that had been horribly shattered and twisted into obscene shapes. “But I can assure you this place is no small mid-western university.”

Back in Doswell, Lowery admitted that not one of the letters he wrote accurately reflected the actual behavior of his fellow students at that small mid-western university during those Carter/Reagan years. “People would think from my words that small mid-western universities were hotbeds of illict sexual activity 24 hours a day,” he says, “when in fact they were dull as dishwater. I never saw a game of Twister get sexy, even when it was coed or all-girl. I never saw two women kiss, and the relationships between the professors and the students was strictly academic. Believe me, I had to make all that stuff up. It was brutal.”

Lowery says that even though he is retired as a dirty letter writer he is hoping to parlay his experience again into the literary arts. “I may even go back to school to further my education,” he claims, hoping to gain admission to perhaps Butler University in Indianapolis, Bradley University in Peoria, or even Drury University in Springfield, Missouri.

“Sins committed in the name of a higher good can smell and look like lilies. But they flank a coffin”

2011-11-17T09:25:00.002-05:00

Q: At Penn State, how do they separate the men from the boys?

Still too soon?

Child Abuse is a horrendous, unforgiveable crime. At the same time, Americans have a rich tradition of using black humor to blunt the horrors of a repugnant, offensive or tragic situation, even those regarding child abuse. Cracking a joke of dubious taste is an innate reflex mechanism that makes dealing with an ugly situation a little more tolerable.

When revelations of Michael Jackson’s predilection of playing and sleeping with young children came forward the jokes were right behind them. When Tiger Woods had the back glass of his escalade shattered by a furious spouse, it took mere minutes for the jokes to make the rounds of the internet and for his situation to get inserted into the late night comedians’ repertoire. Alleged comedian Gilbert Gottfried lost the only paying job he had as the voice of the Aflac duck when he made a crack about Japanese Tsunami victims. Aflac was wise to immediately dump the former host of USA “Up All Night”, but Gottfried saw nothing wrong with the joke and has even defended it, as have numerous fans who claim the insurance giant should “lighten up”. Two radio DJs even made fun of Wall Street Journalist Daniel Pearl’s beheading by terrorists, although their comments rightfully earned them pink slips.

The Penn State sex abuse crisis seems to be an exception; the jokes are not forthcoming in the expected manner from the usual sources. People may be disgusted by the situation but they are hesitant to make light of it, unlike the Catholic Church abuse crisis, when the Priest jokes came fast and furious and comedians created YouTube videos showing realistic “Priests” talking casually about having sex with young boys, and SNL’s Darrel Hammond played a randy Priest in “Scary Movie 3”. The Penn State coaches, on the other hand, seem to be off-limits.

Some may claim that it is due to deference to the young victims, but that has never stopped the jokes in the past, therefore the lack of dark humor regarding this monstrous scandal may be attributable solely to the inviolability of college football.

Cases in point: Penn State students rioted at the mere mention of Saint Paterno losing his job, while conversely, there seemed to be zero rioting over Penn State University President Graham Spanier losing his. At Beaver Stadium, 2000 graduate John Matko held up signs expressing sentiments such as “Put abused kids first” and “Don’t be fooled, they all knew … everyone must go”. He was greeted with jeers, a beer shower and a slap to the stomach. “I understand the culture,” Matko told the Washington Times, “I was part of it. It doesn’t surprise me what I’m getting from them.”

Essayist John Zmirak wrote that “Sins committed in the name of a higher good can smell and look like lilies. But they flank a coffin”. These examples show just where the university and the students’ priorities lie; that the sanctity of their football program takes precedence over the safety and welfare of a handful of pre-adolescent boys who were abused then abandoned by not just some male coaches but by a system that diminished and ultimately ignored suspicions of abuse for 15 years.

But for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction. While the football program at Penn State grew so large, so respected and so darn holy it at the same time grew insular, corruptible and oblivious to its own wrongdoing. In a situation that sounds chillingly familiar coaches and staff supposedly knew Sandusky was allegedly abusing young boys through his non-profit the Second Mile Foundation and through his connections to the school yet chose to ignore it.

Critics of the Catholic Church’s handling of its own similar crisis a few years ago who were quick to claim that celibate men with easy access to children were more prone to deviant acts than other men have been caught off-guard by the Penn State crisis, their world rocked by revelations of a serial abuser enmeshed in the masculine, rough-and-tumble world of college football. But the crisis reiterates the obvious; that sex abusers come in all forms, not just from a tiny percentage of public school teachers, marginally-employed uncles or celibate Priests but even from married, heterosexual college coaches.

Read my piece regarding the Catholic Church abuse crisis, then some of the comments in my Style Weekly piece “Divinity Abuse”.

Sandusky is no different in this regard than former Manassas, Virginia English teacher Kevin Ricks (“Sext Ed”, Style Weekly), who passed undetected for years from one teaching system to the next while abusing male students, enabled by local school officials who suspected his behavior but simply did not want to trouble themselves confronting him. Again, it seems that acceptance of the status quo and mistaken beliefs in a bogus psychology that assumes serial abusers will stop on their own take precedence over the safety of the children, who abusers seem to continue to gain access to regardless of the cloud of suspicion hanging over them, with little regard to their standing in the community, marital status or stated sexual orientation.

Sandusky is fighting back, claiming in a bizarre phone interview with NBC’s Bob Costas last week that he is “not a pedophile”, and that he was merely engaging in horseplay with the alleged victims. Assistant Coach Mike McQueary claims he actually reported his alleged witnessing of a 10-year-old being abused in the shower by a naked Sandusky, unlike media reports that claim otherwise. In any case, the courts will make those final determinations.

Meanwhile, work to stop child abuse in all forms.

Area Chinese Restaurants to Soon Participate in “Don’t Bring your Children to Work Day”

2011-11-12T14:12:00.000-05:00

Don't Ask Don't Tell Buffet Restaurant: Someone else will be
wrapping your silverware Nov. 18

Chinese restaurants all across Richmond and Doswell will commemorate “Don’t bring your children to work day” on Friday, November 18, 2011. The special day was created exclusively for Chinese restaurant owners and managers that frequently bring their children to the restaurants and make them sit and color in coloring books or put them to work either wrapping silverware, separating bean sprouts, shelling beans or other menial tasks, or even sitting by the door and staring, to let them do something else for the day.

“On November 18 our children will be somewhere else doing something else,” said the owner of the Doswell-area DADT (Don’t Ask Don’t Tell) Chinese Buffet. “So we’re going to have to make them stay late on Thursday November 17 to make sure they finish their work for the next day.”

Other Richmond and Doswell area restaurants participating in the special day include the Hot & Sour Temple, Bamboo Restaurant, China Flower, China Lotus, Panda Court, Peking Maple, Empress Dragon, Flower House, Hunan Mandarin, Beijing Room, Imperial Bamboo Buffet, Imperial Lotus Buffet, Lucky Mandarin Lounge, Lucky Pearl, Lucky Phoenix Buffet, Manchu Dragon, Silk Lounge, China Moon, Eastern Lily, Manchu Peony, Maple Palace, Pine Lounge, Shanghai Lotus, Silver Flower, Star Room, Szechuan Moon, Tiger Garden, Pagoda Hunan Express, Manchu Pagoda Express, Manchu Hunan Express and the Hunan Manchu Pagoda. Express.

The Man on Page 602 Knows Nothing about Televisions

2011-11-11T11:22:00.000-05:00

Doswell Carpooler Will leave you if are a minute late, but strolls around 7-Eleven for half-hour

2011-11-10T15:24:00.000-05:00

Doswell car owner Louis Bradford may be a notorious narcissistic cheapskate but is a favorite in the local carpool due to his luxurious 1998 Chrysler Crown Imperial, one everyone presumes is either a gift or stolen because a tightwad like Louis would never spring for a brand new car.

The problem noted by riders is that Louis leaves the house at the exact minute every day, whether the other riders are there or not. "We can be three feet from the car and Louis will still leave us," one anonymous rider complained. Neighbors frequently see Louis’ Imperial pulling away from the house with one of his slightly-tardy riders sprinting behind him, work boots slapping and lunchbucket swinging.

Then, Louis drives the six miles to the Doswell 7-Eleven, buys a cup of coffee, then strolls around the store sometimes up to 30 minutes, looking at his hair in every reflective surface until he can get a free refill.

"If we are as little as three seconds late to his house he leaves us," ~~John Workman~~ the anonymous rider complained, "but then he strolls around the 7-Eleven for half an hour, sipping coffee and smoothing his hair." On the plus side, his coffee-drinking habit usually gives any tardy riders about half an hour to run the six miles necessary to catch him. While this doesn't do anything for their friendship, it does get all the riders in terrific physical shape.

Nobody says anything mildly critical to Louis because he apparently has a horrible temper and the forty-five minute drive to work in his Chrysler is the epitome of comfort, especially when compared to the other riders' vehicles, which include a motorcycle, a pickup truck and a bicycle.

Just don’t touch or make fun of his hair.

Doswell Liberal “Shocked and Appalled” by Allegations against GOP Candidate Herman Cain; But Applauds the TV show ‘Glee’ for showing Gay Teen Sex, But is Disgusted by the Behaviors of the Penn State Football Coaches, and Something Else Sex-Related Really Hacks him off

2011-11-08T16:25:00.000-05:00

Doswell liberal guest columnist Art Mutt admits he is “disgusted” by the behavior of GOP frontrunner Herman Cain 15 years ago, but is thrilled the TV show “Glee” in an episode entitled “The First Time” will show two gay teen boys having sex.

He is also “sickened” by the allegations of a former Penn State Football coach involved in sexual relationships with young boys.

“Glee is to be applauded for its progressive approach to gay teen relationships, and its willingness to show two teenage boys in bed together,” stated the pointy-headed leftist, “but at the same time I am disgusted and appalled by Herman Cain’s alleged questionable tones and vague inuendos back in the 90s toward those anonymous women. Also, at the same time, I am appalled that the Penn State football staff seems to have . . . wait, where was I?

Scene from "Glee": Family filter is turned off

Mutt also says he applauds “Glee” for its depiction last season of those two lesbian cheerleaders in bed talking about scissoring. “I can now see - and Tivo - on ‘Glee’ what I used to have to go online to get,” he claims

Mutt also claims that it was too bad that former congressman Anthony Weiner did not text those randy pictures of himself to a guy instead of a girl. “I would have applauded his forthrightness and his willingness to embrace his sexuality had he texted those pictures to a teenage boy,” Mutt said. “Instead he texted them to a female. That’s just disgusting – he’s just a dirty old man.”

“I mean honestly – how do you think Barney Frank kept his job after that affair with the male prostitute? I mean, to a person like me that is like getting a promotion! But that Republican Mark Sanford – come on, an affair with a South American woman? How tacky and non-progressive!”

Doswell Man Fears he may have “Put off” Steven Spielberg with his Pimento Cheese Breath

2011-11-06T15:38:00.000-05:00

Spielberg: Averse to pimento cheese

Teman Road resident and film buff Marv Turnbull fears he may have “disengaged” iconic director Steven Spielberg in downtown Richmond with his pimento cheese breath when he bumped into him on the corner of 4th and Franklin Streets.

“I crossed the street and there he was,” said the embarrassed Turnbull. “He was waiting to cross, so I quickly got in front of him and attempted to engage him about the hidden meanings in his 1974 movie “Duel”.

Turnbull claims the director stood patiently for about one minute before he bcaked up a step and glanced at his watch. “It was at that point that I realized I ate this big honking pimento cheese sandwich about 10 minutes before, and my pimento cheese breath was somehow offending him. I continued my questioning about ‘Duel’ but he seemed not only disinterested, but got almost hostile, ordering me away from him.”

Turnbull is positive it was his breath, not his line of questioning that aggravated the famous director, who is in Richmond filming “Lincoln” starring Daniel Day Lewis.

“Why would Spielberg NOT want to talk about ‘Duel’?” Turnbull said. “It’s his best film, for crying out loud, and speaks volumes of the inhumanity of corporate America – represented by the truck – and their pursuit of the heart, soul and wallet of America’s everymen, as represented by Dennis Weaver.”

Turnbull claims that now that he knows where to find Spielberg he will be careful to not eat any more pimento cheese sandwiches before he goes off looking for him to further discuss “Duel”.

Now that Robbie Woods is Found, Search Continues for Tim Kaine

2011-11-02T00:00:00.000-04:00

Former Gov. Kaine: still missing

DNC Chair went missing during Obama’s jobs swing through Virginia

Following the great news that 9-year-old Robbie Woods was found safe after going missing for 6 days near Doswell, authorities are still searching for DNC chairman and former Virginia Governor Tim Kaine, who went missing during an Obama Jobs bill swing through Virginia and North Carolina over 3 weeks ago. The president reported the DNC chairman missing after a stop in the town of Emporia. “I am hoping for the same positive outcome of the missing Tim Kaine that we saw in the case of Robbie Woods,” said the President.

Police are mystified by the sudden disappearance of the former Governor, who by previous accounts was anxiously awaiting the arrival of President Obama, who scheduled numerous stops throughout Virginia to stand side-by-side in solidarity with him, representing the hopes of the future of the Democratic party in Virginia.

Police report that the missing Kaine is about 5’-10” tall, about 210 lbs, with thinning salt-&-pepper hair and an oblivious demeanor. He was last seen glancing at his watch anxiously just prior to the Obama jobs bus arriving in Emporia, before witnesses say they saw him running to his car and driving off down a side street.

Police spokesmen say that if a Virginia resident spots Tim Kaine, to approach him gently and don’t make any sudden noises, and especially don’t, as a joke, wear an Obama mask while you search. “That will just scare him further away from you” said the spokesman.

Officials say they see no connection between Kaine’s DNC position, his disappearance and the President’s plummeting popularity in Virginia.

God Admits: I Kept an Eye on Robbie Woods, Offering Constant Love & Protection; Glad Rescuers Located him

2011-10-28T20:53:00.005-04:00

An Exclusive Interview

(SPECIAL) The Almighty God admitted today in an exclusive interview with News From Doswell that Robbie Woods, the 9-year-old autistic boy lost in Doswell’s North Anna Battlefield Park last Sunday was a “handful” and that he required “24-hour love and protection” that eventually got him rescued Friday around 2 PM at the Martin-Marietta Rock Quarry.

“When Robbie ran off from his dad and brother on Sunday afternoon, I knew I was in for the long haul,” admitted the omnipotent being from his position in Heaven, “And I had to watch him like a hawk, because of the potential danger he was constantly in.”

God explained that from Sunday on “I had to first make sure he did not fall down the cliffs that separate the park from the South Anna River”, which at the time was slightly up and about 3-8 feet in depth. “And that park sometimes is inhabited by various wild animals that wander in from across the river or from the thick woods that surround the park,” requiring more intervention from the all-powerful ruler of the Christian world.

Later in the week God admitted he had to watch Robbie closely when he “crossed Verdon Road, because as anyone knows it is frequented by dump trucks coming and going from the quarry entrance”. Also, little Robbie had to cross the railroad tracks that run parallel along the road “since coal and gravel trains travel that section of track at all hours of the day and night”.

One inside the Martin-Marietta quarry, where Robbie was eventually found, God said he was “on my toes”, watching and guiding the young boy as he walked and played among deadly rock-crushing equipment, huge piles of rocks and a quarry pit “almost 400-feet deep” and full of stagnant water.

“It was constant,” God said, relaxing for a moment before going back to the next crisis somewhere in the world, “Robbie wandered through a 2-square-mile area virtually unscathed”, despite the presence of cliffs, animals, briars and other unmentionable dangers. “It was almost like that Popeye cartoon when Sweet Pea wandered into the factory. It was crazy, but I had a handle on him.”

Despite the presence of hundreds and hundreds of volunteers, state police and emergency personnel, Robbie managed to elude them all for almost 6 days. “I am pleased by the large number of people who volunteered to help with the search,” God said, “And I can’t tell you the number of prayers I have been besieged with since Sunday – the response has been simply overwhelming.”

Robbie was found about 2 PM Friday by a volunteer searcher in a fetal position in a creekbed inside the quarry property. He was taken to the VCU medial hospital in Richmond via helicopter, where he was reported in “serious but stable condition”.

“I’m thankful for the effort that went into finding Robbie,” God said. “Now if you will excuse me . . .”

With the rescue of Robbie, coupled with the closing weekend of Kings Dominion theme park, Doswell residents report there is “absolutely no reason to come to Doswell anymore”.

9-Year-old Robbie Woods is Missing

2011-10-24T19:31:00.001-04:00

Citizen volunteers will be accepted to assist in the search operations for Robbie Woods, the 9-year-old boy who disappeared Sunday afternoon at the North Anna Battlefield Park in Doswell, on Tuesday, October 25th. Currently hundreds of local residents have volunteered to assist.

The search is ongoing, with 35 Virginia State Troopers and other law-enforcement agencies doing a grid search of the 80-acre North Anna Battlefield Park. The park is bordered on one side by the North Anna river, another side by an unused quarry site and on two sides by woods and farmland.

The autistic boy is non-verbal and has blond hair and blue eyes, and was last seen wearing a long-sleeve red T-shirt, blue athletic pants and blue athletic shoes. He is described as average in weight and height for his age.

Pray for the safety of Robbie, and pray for his family. He is about to spend his second night lost in 44-degree woods. Pray really, really hard.

The Man on Page 602 is Sensitive to Criticism

2011-10-23T19:06:00.002-04:00

Doswell Man Sees Nothing Wrong with Browsing for Hours in Front of Redbox

2011-10-22T21:46:00.000-04:00

Redbox fury building: Hurry the hell up

Flat Iron Road resident Terrell Witherspoon insists that there is "nothing wrong" with standing in front of the Ashland Walmart Redbox DVD dispenser and clicking through screen after screen of selections while he makes up his mind, even if a line of angry patrons queue up behind him..

"Sometimes, after a good 45 minutes or so of browsing, I leave without even getting a movie," claims the Doswell pain in the butt, "Hey - if I'm going to spend a dollar I'm not going to waste it -- I want to make sure I pick just the right item that suits my mood for the evening."

This particular day Witherspoon eventually selected an episode of the 1970's detective show 'Barnaby Jones', starring Buddy Ebsen after browsing for about 30 minutes.

Guests waiting in line behind Witherspoon have a different perspective on the tactics of the indecisive jerk. "Next time I get in line behind him I'm making his selection for him," claims a rather large man who spent all his money on tattoos and had none left over for good dental care. "Look - here's a movie called 'Redbox Beatdown', and it's performed live, featuring a local turd who gets his face pushed through the selection screen."

"Have your movie picked out before you step up to the box for crying out loud!" stated another Walmart shopper, a female I think. "I got my kids out in the car with the windows rolled up and I can't stand here all freakin' day!"

Witherspoon is unfazed by the reactions of other potential Redbox shoppers, including those who only want to return a movie and still need to stand and wait for him to decide what best suits his fickle film tastes for the evening. "Today I'm torn between a Tom Hanks romantic comedy, or something starring Reece Witherspoon, because of the name thing. Just let me start over one more time . . ."

President Obama’s Van Stolen from Virginia Centre Commons Area; Hurricane Booth inside Mall Thankfully Remains Untouched

2011-10-18T12:32:00.000-04:00

Virginia Center Hurricane Booth: Curiously untouched in
recent Presidential theft

The Hurricane Booth inside the food court at Virginia Center Commons Mall remained untouched today as a van containing sound equipment, podiums and presidential seals disappeared from a Hotel parking lot nearby.

The equipment is part of President Obama’s Bus tour of Virginia and North Carolina.

The truck was parked at a hotel near the mall when it was stolen Monday. The truck was recovered in the parking lot of another hotel near the Richmond International Airport.

The Defense Information System Agency said Tuesday that a government vehicle was stolen and then recovered. They added they were “relieved” that the truck recovered at the airport contained the missing presidential items, and not the Hurricane Booth.

“While the President does indeed enjoy standing inside 78 MPH novelty hurricane booths for entertainment purposes, it would indeed have proven fruitless to open the doors of the missing van and found only the booth, and not the missing podium and teleprompter,” the statement said. “And it would be very hard for people to hear the president talking about his American Jobs Act plan from inside the hurricane booth – especially with it turned on and Mr. Obama being buffeted by high winds.”

The owner of the Mall’s hurricane booth, SEG Novelties of Baltimore, issued a statement saying that while they are “relieved that the thieves passed by the booth on their way out to the parking lot to take the President’s van”, they are disappointed that they “walked past the booth without stopping to pay only $3 and experience what it’s like to be standing in a 78-MPH hurricane”.

“The hurricane booth is in place and open for business,” the statement continued. “Please, somebody stand in the booth.”

Doswell Man Saved a Trip to the Store by Going Online to Pcmatic.com After Downloading Nasty Porn Video

2011-10-14T14:37:00.000-04:00

Doswell resident Adam Browder is thanking his wife, Clara for "saving him a trip to the store" by suggesting he download anti-virus software on his 2002 Dell instead of buying a new laptop when he picked up a "nasty virus" after downloading a 29-minute video entitled "Ebony Bubblebutt Sluts go Nuts".

"I don't understand," Browder said as he pawed only the f-buttons at the top of his keyboard from inside his incredibly fancy house for a guy who has no apparent means of income, "the computer was working great until I downloaded the video, then it locked up."

He claims Clara took a break from applying layer after layer of makeup to show him how PCmatic.com can fix those nasty viruses, and speed up his streaming video with the click of a button. "Hey, this is a lot faster!" he exclaimed happily.

"Online video is faster also," said Clara as her makeup mirror morphed into a cell phone. "So those twink videos that I found on your flash drive will download faster as well."

"And the virus is gone!" Browder admitted, ignoring his wife's revelation of her knowledge of the dozens of questionable clips on a flash drive he keeps squirreled away under his online persona "Win7dawg".

"I owe Clara my thanks -- she saved me a trip to the store."

"I needed the car anyway," said Clara, reaching for the keys that weren't there for the first 40 seconds but magically appeared beside her husband's laptop. "Girls night out!" She then exited the house in an unearthly, satanic blur.

"Honey?"

"Girls night out my butt," claimed Browder, as he sat back down and started a download of a German video called "Cocktoberfest 2010" , "She's going to meet that dude that calls himself 'Tank Furious'. I'll be hosing out the BMW tomorrow before I take it back to the rental place."

"Occupy Doswell" in Full Force! Furious Local residents Take to the Streets Protesting the 1% of Convenience Marts that do 50% of all the Mini Mart Business!

2011-10-13T09:08:00.000-04:00

Feel Sorry for The Man on Page 602

2011-10-10T16:23:00.000-04:00

After Spending $140 Trying to Win a $2 Stuffed Animal at Kings Dominion, Doswell Stock Broker Realizes why he Sucks as a Stock Broker

2011-10-04T16:18:00.000-04:00

Doswell broker Wallace Branscomb admitted his decision to keep plunking down money on a nearly impossible to win ring toss game at Kings Dominion’s Halloween Haunt last Friday goes a long way toward explaining why he is losing current investors in droves and is not signing on any new ones.

“But I was so close so many times!” Fretted the financial loser, “and my girlfriend Juanita kept insisting I try again, because she wanted this ‘really cute’ little purple bear hanging over the ATM beside the game.”

And it isn’t the first time Branscomb has made poor personal financial decisions for himself. “Last Saturday I bought a lottery ticket at the Doswell Stop n’ Go and look here,” he said as he pulled the crumpled ticket from his wallet, “I was only one off on this one, and only two off on this number. That’s the closest I ever came to a win.”

Branscomb also admits to getting two reverse mortgages, buying a timeshare in Fort Desolation, Canada, purchasing online car insurance with a deductible higher than the value of the car, paying full price for name-brand groceries at Martins with no coupons or Martins card and getting a Venti-size Starbucks triple-espresso caramel latte every single morning.

More Adventures of The Man from Page 602

2011-09-29T19:52:00.000-04:00

Doswell Man Unsure why his Day Care Business is not Doing Better

2011-09-27T18:52:00.002-04:00

The Future is History

2011-09-24T18:11:00.003-04:00

“They’ve gone back to metric without telling us!”

-Department of works employee, from Terry Gilliam’s Brazil (1987)

Many of the louder leftists, including progressive liberals, democratic congressional black caucus members, MSNBC Hosts, radical environmentalists and pseudo-intellectual Facebook pundits assert that republican politicians, tea partiers and fiscal conservatives want to turn America away from their versions of progressive modernism and instead return the country back to primeval pre-industrial revolution days by invoking the right’s economic, political and cultural associations with the incendiary specter of slavery.

They point their noses high, acknowledging conservatives and tea partiers as the only rich people in the country. They are called terrorists, racists, flat earth republicans, religious dominionists and much worse, with baseless claims they are anti-science simply because they “cling” to God and dispute man-made global warming.

Conservatives, they sniff, want women barefoot, pregnant and scrubbing church pews, relegating Hispanics back to Mexico if they’re not mowing their lawns and blacks “hanging from trees” if they’re not picking cotton or playing for their favorite NBA franchise. They consistently claim conservatives desire an oil-soaked, exhaust-belching strip-mined world run by white Christians, where being Muslim or gay is illegal; where old people are kicked to the curb and die in the streets and the environment is there to be damned.

Despite this idiotic Cro-Magnon attitude and middle-school-like name-calling, the left’s attempts to invoke a people holding an ignorant pro-slavery pre-civil war view of America highlights those accusers’ convenient dereliction of confirming the current existence of slavery in the form of social entitlement programs forced on Americans paradoxically by their own policies. By taking away an individual’s ability or motivation to provide for him or herself, legislation introduced by Democrats frequently forces a dependence on government or creates a regulation to force Americans to abide by government procedures whether they want to or not. And now, the bloated dreadnaught of overstuffed federal entitlement regulatory agencies administering those programs is foundering dangerously, as evidenced by a $14 trillion debt and no concrete plans to reduce it.

As Greece, Italy and other EU nations are proving, a government eventually collapses into the crushing black hole of its own gigantic entitlement bureaucracy. While that ship disintegrates liberals amazingly still cry that the regulations did not go far enough; that the failure was instigated by those who tried to stop the river of federal money needed to keep the monster afloat, and if we had only flooded the hold with even more funds we could have righted that capsizing and imploding beast. But with the programs busted and in default, American citizens – like their European counterparts made dependent on those bankrupted programs – suddenly find themselves suffering economic DTs, shaking and sweating and wondering what to do now that the safety net is gone and they neglected to sharpen their skill sets.

With government and the economy collapsed, President Obama’s promised fundamental transformation of America finally becomes sobering reality. Welcome to a world where long-promised shovel-ready jobs once done with fossil fuel-guzzling backhoes, loaders and graders comes to fruition with former professionals-turned minimum-wage slaves. With prohibitively expensive oil drilling and filthy coal plants regulated into extinction, power is produced by lib-loving eco-friendly “Condor cuisinart” windmills, which generate meager amounts of electricity and shred flocks of migratory birds with brutal precision while they consume more energy in their design and construction than they will produce in their working lifetimes. The most rudimentary business venture requires several acres of unreliable solar panels, but with required acreage in business-friendly urban areas at a premium – oh, sorry, there’s only enough power for a single space heater, a laptop and a coffeemaker. On a sunny day.

Welcome to a world where the few cars on the road are cramped, unsafe and get 30 miles to the charge before they have to be pushed to the nearest working receptacle or to the next I-95 tollbooth, where a chance to plug in is bartered with corrupt toll-takers squirreling away batteries in their un-air conditioned little fiefdoms since EPA goons closed all the coal plants.

We now have a world without job-killing ATMs or airport kiosks because there’s no longer energy infrastructure to power them. Older model Easy-Bake ovens are outlawed because they require illegal incandescent bulbs to bake their tiny cakes, and little girls across America are hauled in, kicking and screaming when caught baking with unapproved bulbs.

The unintended consequences of Obamacare’s insistence on insuring everyone regardless of cost and mandating free wellness programs skyrocket health insurance premiums into the stratosphere and force doctors out of the program. The program’s refusal to acknowledge conscience clauses regarding such controversial procedures as birth control and abortion closes many faith-based hospitals, eventually bringing back Colonial-era health care, with low-compensated, barely-trained doctors and midwives walking the deserted roads like in a Cormac McCarthy novel to deliver preemie babies and trying to save those dying from once-easily treatable illnesses. Drugs are rare and unaffordable since evil “Big Pharma” is prohibitively taxed. Medical payments are in the form of home-grown vegetables and sexual favors since the American dollar lost all value.

Ironically, Obama and the liberals’ spending programs eventually force America back to the pre-industrial era they accuse the conservatives of trying to invoke. The fundamental transformation of America is complete. They went back to metric without telling us.

Doswell Man Unsure why his Budget Funeral Business is not Doing Better

2011-09-23T11:41:00.000-04:00

Richmond’s Style Weekly Commemorates 1,000th Potshot Taken at Charles Samuels

2011-09-22T11:15:00.001-04:00

Richmond City Councilman the Second Local “Honored by a thousand cuts" by the Weekly Tabloid

Richmond City Councilman and Attorney Charles Samuels (left) reports he is “honored and gratified” by the commemoration of the 1000th shot taken at him by various writers, editors and a certain cartoonist in the pages of Richmond’s only weekly news, arts and culture tabloid publication, known as Style Weekly.

“I must be doing something right” claimed Samuels, following the latest zinger directed at him in response to his positions on dancing and music played at elevated volumes within the city limits. “To be recognized in this way speaks volumes of my influence in arbitrating various arts-related activities here.”

“I am certainly quite proud.”

Echoing a 1985 arts initiative called “Bringing you a Filth-Free Richmond” started by ThroTTle Magazine (the precursor to Style Weekly and overall a much, much better magazine), Samuels claims that the fact that his attempts to take Richmond back to “The Good old days – meaning the good old days of temperance, dressing up for the tea room and the 6th-street marketplace; not the good old days of northern aggression, segregation and VCU dog riots ,” says that his work is much needed, and has a place in the Richmond of this new millennium.

“ThroTTle had it right with its ‘Filth-free Richmond’ initiative,” Samuels says. “I only want to take it a step further – to bring the fine people of Richmond not just a filth-free city but one devoid of unnecessary hug-step and wiggling monstrosities too vile for the stage of so-called burlesque and vaudeville, with its moral filth and sensual exhibits, all woven into scandalous revels of diabolical movement.”

Okay.

Style Weekly Editor Jason Roop was equally proud of the recognition of Samuels, seen by him as much a commemoration of Style Weekly’s own "Honor by a thousand cuts" initiative, started last year after Samuels’ election to city council.

“We are proud to continue a long tradition of jabbing and poking at those on city council who stand apart from the others – the ones who dare speak up to say, ‘our city has problems, and I will subject this city to my wills and motivations, no matter how incomplete, half-baked or unnecessary they may be’. We are proud to have a Charles Samuels here in our city, and as long as he stays here, we will have someone to jab, poke and put down.”

A recent example of Style’s Samuels initiative was a comic entitled “Inspector ‘Chuck’ Samuels: Richmond’s Fun Sucker’ (pictured at top). “That cartoon actually jump-stated the final three or four jabs we needed to hit the 1000th mark,” says Roop.

Roop issued a terse “no comment” on who will be the next victim in their jab, poke and put-down initiative.

Richmonder Joe Morrisey can verify the importance of being in the eye of the local tabloid. “I was born fighting, and am proud to be the first local politician to mark Style’s 1000th commemoration of something.” He said.

“Can you loan me a fiver until payday?

Doswell Hopes to be Home of at least one Proposed I-95 Tollbooth

2011-09-20T14:07:00.000-04:00

“Doswell on the Tollbooths” Foundation created to Lobby for booth location

The announcement by the Federal Highway Administration that Virginia has tentative approval to place tollbooths on Interstate 95 “somewhere between Fredericksburg and North Carolina” has led to a mad scramble by Doswell town executives to lobby the state to have the booths placed just after the Doswell exit number 98 northbound and southbound.

“The Doswell on the Tollbooths foundation will effectively lobby the FHA and VDOT to place the $2 tollbooth in a position that will drive traffic from I-95 onto Route 30, hence through the Doswell town center,” stated town mother Maude Ridgeway. “That way travelers can be treated to all Doswell has to offer, including 5 convenience marts, four motels, many large scenic fields, and of course a theme park.”

Highway officials concur that a dedicated source of funds for I-95 repairs collected at the tolls would in turn free up transportation funds for improvement projects on other highways across the state, including those not found in the Doswell vicinity.

Examples of specific projects that could be funded via Doswell toll revenues include widening the exit 98 off-ramp, upgraded electronic message boards announcing Doswell-related news and cultural events and Doswell weather information. Installing width detectors on the Route 30 flyover and widening shoulders directing traffic to the famous Doswell tire tree would also be included. It was also reported that a new coffeemaker was needed in the Ruritan building's single-purpose room.

“This could be the biggest traffic diverter in Doswell history, or at least since the train yards were cut through just prior to the civil war,” said Ridgeway. “Doswell is proud to play a role in Virginia’s efforts to soak motorists.”

Doswell Man Unsure why his Undercover Surveillance Business is not Doing Better

2011-09-16T09:45:00.000-04:00

Carny Volunteers to Deep-Fry Himself at this Year’s Virginia State Fair

2011-09-14T13:30:00.000-04:00

Fried Dough: Carny adds layers of heat-resistant padding prior to stunt

Somebody call an EMT like right now.

Forget deep-fried Snickers bars and ice cream -- "Balloonatic" game owner/operator Mike Falstaff has volunteered to be the “entertainment centerpiece” at the 2011 Virginia State Fair by immersing himself in a 50-gallon tub of boiling oil and deep-frying himself.

“I’ve been practicing for months,” says the showman-to-be in between cycles of clueless kids, surly teens and nostalgic boomers at his game at the Lord Swillby Shopping Center in Evanston, Illinois. “I can put my arm in the grease up to the elbow and hold it for a good 15 seconds.”

Falstaff says he will not wear a respirator and mask over his face so he can breathe during his admittedly dangerous stunt, choosing to wear only padded airtight swim goggles to protect his vision and plugs in his ears and nose to keep out the viscous, boiling oil. “I’m just gonna take a deep breath and dunk myself then hold it for about 10 seconds.” He claims.

"I'm pretty tough," Falstaff says after concerns raised about the immense pain associated with such a stunt. "I can stand here all day and people throw darts at me instead of the balloons and it don't hurt at all."

Midway

Falstaff says, however, that this may be the only time he will attempt the insane deep-fry. “I don’t wanna keep exposing myself to that hot oil, I might get cancer down the road, like from a bad sunburn.”

The Virginia State Fair opens just outside Doswell on September 29 and will run through October 9 at Meadow Farm. At press time the exact day and time of Falstaff’s exhibition is not on the fair website.

Doswell Man Completely Rebuilds 1994 Camry into 2011 Model in Auto Zone Parking Lot Undetected

2011-09-09T10:17:00.000-04:00

Willoughby at work: an idiot idea

Doswell mechanic Brad Willoughby has announced with great fanfare that he has completed rebuilding his 1994 Toyota Camry one piece at a time into a 2011 model in the Ashland Auto Zone parking lot with no one noticing.

“Auto Zone frowns on people rebuilding cars out front of their stores,” stated Willoughby as he filled out a police report. “I mean they don’t mind replacing windshield wipers and batteries out front, but they draw the line at putting a car up on jack stands and burning out and dropping the entire exhaust system, so that made my accomplishment all the more significant, seeing as how I did it with them none the wiser.”

Willoughby’s M.O. was to park around on the side, go inside the store, purchase one or two needed parts and some small bogus item like an air freshener so as not to arouse too much suspicion, then go out and while his wife Lurleen or son Randy fiddled with the air freshener Brad went under the hood or under the car and completed the day’s task, whether it was re-run all the rigid brake lines and replace the master cylinder, tear out and replace the radiator and cooling system or replace an entire transmission or rear end. The entire trunk was full of Snap-on tools and a bucket of gasoline to wash parts.

“The body work was the worst, and the closest I came to getting caught,” he claimed. “I had to pretend like I was buffing out a blemish on the quarter panels whenever that squirrelly guy stuck his head out, then the second he was gone I had to burn off the old bolts, tear off the old panel and slap on the new one.”

“It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.”

Willoughby reports that he always had to keep the car in operable shape so as to drive it home every night. “I couldn’t leave the car at Auto Zone, so every day I drove it there and replaced just enough in the time I had allotted, then drove it back home.”

When asked what the most challenging job was, he replied “easily replacing the water pump. I rung off four of the seven bolts. I had to drill and easy-out the sheared bolts, the re-tap the threaded holes in the block. I couldn’t reach anything and had to work by feel. It took longer than replacing the transmission. Also, the heater core apron bolts were stripped and had been put in with red Loctite. I had to cut off the line, cut out the apron bolt with a torch then re-flare the line before replacing the unit. Both jobs took all freaking day.”

Transformation complete: Now sell it for junk

“And I had a real tough time disguising my sprayer when it came time to paint the vehicle.”

When asked if he could have just painted the vehicle at home, rather than drive it to Auto Zone, Willoughby looked blank before asking “What?”

Willoughby also reports with some embarrassment that he could not replace the odometer because it is against the law to do so and no one would sell him one. “So my 2011 Camry has 315,657 miles on it.”

Brad said he would have triumphantly driven away his newly-rebuilt car – which he did for $9,787 – when he finished but Auto Zone had it towed. Also, when he gets it back, he plans to sell it for junk because of the high miles.

“Man on Page 602” Proves to be Most Popular Blog Entry

2011-09-02T15:54:00.003-04:00

"Big Dude" and his "water stain":
Click to enlarge (pun intentional)

January, 2009 Post Drawn over 10,000 hits

The entire page 602

The male model on page 602 of the infamous 1975 Sears Catalog has proven to be the most durable and most google-searched blog entry in the history of Newsfromdoswell, generating as of Sept 2, 2011 its 10,000th hit since its original posting January 29, 2009.

“I am proud to be a part of Sears history, at least the part that supposedly showed the tip end of a man modeling boxers and a t-shirt in the 1975 Spring-Summer catalog,” said Doswell blogger Dale Brumfield, who showed his stat counter for proof that over 10,000 people have googled, Binged and meta-searched the elusive model’s picture.

The "man on page 602" gained minor notoriety when it was revealed that a portion of his man-part was exposed out of the leg of his boxer shorts in that catalog, now a collector's item. Sears maintained at the time that it was not the man's penis, but a water stain on the negative that produced the shadowy protruberance just under the left leg of the boxer short.

Brumfield plans to periodically trot out the entry and pictures in a bald-faced effort to up his page views. Meanwhile please enjoy the cartoons featuring our own "big dude" Here.

Earthquake Related Gas Leak at Crippled North Anna Nuclear Plant ‘Not Serious’ Say Survivors

2011-09-01T21:40:00.000-04:00

North Anna Nuclear Plant minutes after earthquake: All is well

Good News is Earthquake shook all the asbestos out of the ceiling

MINERAL (MINUTES FROM DOSWELL) – the 5.8 magnitude earthquake that opened up a yawning chasm right beside the North Anna Nuke plant, cracked the containment dome and started a cataclysmic and unstoppable gas leak is not serious enough to warrant shutting down the plant shouted spokesman Randy “Bagpipes” Coffman over the screaming of the sirens and the panicked mass exodus of employees from the smoldering, listing nuke complex.

“The plant is safer now than it has been in years,” stated the upbeat PR wizard following the 147th aftershock that rocked the floor of the plant like a three-man wooden barque caught in a north Atlantic Nor’Easter. “It’s a perfect storm of events, so to speak: The spewing gas is blowing all the leaking radiation from the cracked dome over the warm part of the lake, where it is only affecting geese and drunk boaters. And the shaking from the quake knocked all the asbestos out of the ceiling, and we all can breathe a little easier knowing it is in the process of being blown out of the buildings with leaf blowers.”

“Man, there is nothing better for blowing out truckloads of asbestos dust than a Toro back-mounted gas-powered leaf blower.” He said in through swirling, billowing clouds of fishhook-like asbestos particles.

Coffman also noted that the Hurricane played a critical role in the recent events at the plant. “Yes, Hurricane Irene put out the #2 reactor fire, which was starting to cause us some concern, as the thousands of cubic feet of concrete we were pouring into the damaged reactor wasn’t doing squat.”

“The fire also rid us of all the lead paint that covered every surface in this plant – I knew the lead was being incinerated because I could smell its heavy, toxic lacquer-like stench.”

“We went from a hellish armegeddon that was making Chernobyl look like a spring shower to normalcy in less than a week. Yep, life is good” Coffman said just before erupting in a roaring paroxysm of sputum-filled retching.

Doswell Rattled by 5.8 Earthquake Centered less Than 33 Miles from the Town Center!

2011-08-23T19:47:00.001-04:00

Locals Report Lawn Ornaments “In Disarray”; Several Front Porch Refrigerators Reported “Out of Position”

Local Farmer Vaguely Recalls Readjusting his Hat Around Time of Quake

Dixie Treat Trailer Court Residents Nonplussed by Seismic Event; Vow to get Drunk Anyway

Vacationing Obama “OK”; Reports Martini “Shaken, not Stirred” by Largest East Coast Quake in 100 Years

***

DOSWELL - A 5.8 magnitude earthquake centered 33 miles west of Doswell, Va., shook much of western Hanover, D.C., and was felt as far north as Carmel Church and Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts., where President Barack Obama reportedly missed a 4-foot putt on the 9th hole due to the shimmying, only to insist he made the hole for the birdie..

Officials say it was the only earthquake in Doswell in the last week - a technically true statement.

Two aftershocks were reported, although the second at 3:20 pm was not an aftershock at all but Doswell’s own crazy Man Rosco fishing with dynamite in the Little River. The first at 2:46 p.m., and was measured at 2.8 on the Richter Scale. The dynamiting measured 3.6 on the Rosco scale.

The quake sent hundreds of Doswell residents spilling out of their trailers and homes into their driveways. Many took the time to evacuate dozens of dogs from under front porches for safety. Tremors were felt as far away as Noel, Hewlett and Carmel Church.

The U.S. Geological Survey said the earthquake was 3.7 miles deep (roughly twice as deep as the Doswell Rock Quarry). Shaking was experienced by Doswell’s Mary Kay lady, who at well over 400 pounds continued to shimmy for hours after the initial shock. Flabby upper arms were reportedly flapping and waving as far south as Ashland, scaring dozens of children out of yards all over Hanover.

40th Anniversary of Doswell Man's Letter from Camp

2011-08-23T10:33:00.000-04:00

August 23, 1971

Dear Mom,

Our camp leader told us all write to our parents in case you saw the flood on channel 3 and got worried. We are OK. Only 1 of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Biff when it happened. Oh yes, please call Biff's mother and tell her he is OK. He can't write because of the plaster and wire thing the doctor put on him. I got to ride on the top of one of the search & rescue jeeps. It was neat. We never would have found Biff in the dark if it hadn't been for the lightning.

Camp leader Rob got mad at Biff for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Biff said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire the gas can will blow up? I learned wet wood doesn't burn, but wet tents really do. So do clothes. And John is going to look like an alien until his eyebrows grows back.

We will be home on Saturday if camp leader Rob gets the van fixed. Some of his friends are here fitting their motorcycle parts on it. It wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked OK when we left. Leader Rob said that a van that old you have to expect something to break down. That's probably why he can't get insurance on it. We think it's a neat van. It's real old with wood paneling and it has windows with those blinds like Aunt Jane has at the nursing home. It’s also got an air mattress in the back. Rob doesn't care if we get it dirty, and he lets us wrestle in the back.

Camp leader Rob is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is a good driver. In fact, he is teaching Terry how to drive. But he only lets him drive on the mountain roads where there isn't any traffic. Terry can barely see over the steering wheel but Leader Rob sits right beside him and holds the steering wheel while Terry works the pedals. All we ever see up there are logging trucks.

This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out in the lake. Leader Rob wouldn't let me in the water because I can't swim and Biff was afraid he would sink because of his plaster and wire thing, so he let us take the canoe across the lake. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood. Rob isn't crabby like some camp leaders. He didn't even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of time working on the van so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.

Guess what? We got to see how a tourniquet works. Wade and I threw up. Rob said it probably was not from looking at Dave’s injury but just food poisoning from the leftover chicken because he said they got sick that way all the time with the food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and become camp leader. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time.

I have to go now. We are going into town to mail our letters and buy stuff. Also Rob needs to see someone called a bondsman. Don't worry about anything. We are fine.

Doswell Man: Unemployment will drop to 4% if more People Take Advantage of Job Opportunities in Matchbooks and in the backs of Magazines and not be a former Circuit City Employee

2011-08-20T22:36:00.002-04:00

Doswell entrepreneur and still-disgruntled former Circuit City employee Wallace Binghamton states with “100% certainty” that America’s unemployment rate will plummet to less than 4% if more Americans “stopped whining about how there are no jobs” and instead took advantage of the “myriad of employment opportunities” available in matchbook folders, the back pages of popular TV and movie magazines and in Men’s publications like Popular Mechanics.

“There are opportunities galore in the back of any issue of TV & Radio Mirror, for example,” states Binghamton, noting that the February, 2011 issue alone contained ads requesting people to “make big money” in a variety of industries, including television repair, meat cutting, plastic laminating, crime detection, blowmolding, accident investigation, even zeppelin repair.

“There are also ads that are begging for people to drive the big rigs, operate heavy equipment, rebuild small engines, sell shoes, spray with suede, cure rupture, repair hydraulic jacks, produce leather items and apply Dryex.”

But thankfully, “There are no ads looking for floor sales people at a failing electronics retailer.”

Binghamton says that there are opportunities also for those not looking for full-time employment (such as a floor salesman at a failing electronics retailer) or those looking for independent contractor positions, where they can be their own boss. “Many companies out there want to know if there are self-motivated go-getters seeking to look taller instantly, find a fortune in old coins, erase ugly blackheads, turn poems to music, polish gems, deliver Grit, bronze baby shoes and identify rocks.”

“And being my own boss is a heck of a lot better than working for overpaid Windsor Farms Buttheads who drive their failing electronics retailer straight off a cliff without so much as a screw you to those of us who spent the better part of a decade hawking their overpriced plastic crap.”

Binghamton says he overcame his unfortunate job layoff (“royal ‘bend-me-over-a-barrel and crack-me-open-like-a-shotgun foaming beef enema’ is more like it”) at Circuit City to make a living “as a detective, an insurance claims adjuster, a master in Ju Jitsu, printer, prospector, floor surfacing contractor, electroplater, mine detector und ziggurat renovator”, all from the back pages of magazines.

“I make literally thousands of dollars a year from my multiple entrepreneurial opportunities.” He says, all of them gleaned from the backs of magazines that already arrived at his house on a weekly basis. “Sometimes the best opportunities are right under your own nose without you realizing it”.

“Oh and you can tell the VP of sales at Circuit City, wherever he is now, that if he’ll wash his face he can kiss my ass.”

TUBE SOCK SELLERS -- MARK YOUR CALENDARS NOW - $EPTEMBER WILL BE THE HOTTE$T TRAINING MONTH THIS $UMMER!!!!

2011-08-18T15:22:00.004-04:00

This original message was received at Thu, 18 Aug 2011 12:32:52 -0400 (EDT) from pcmmps02.hq.whitehouse.gov[174.30.5.108]----- The following addresses had successful delivery notifications ----- Newsfromdoswell@gmail.com (relayed to non-DSN-aware mailer)

Tube Socks Sales = KaChing!

BCC: undisclosed recipients

This is a SHOVEL READY Federal Stimulus-Funded Training Program! DO NOT MISS this ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY!! TRILLIONS of dollars ready to be spent!

Plan TODAY to be at Doswell’s King Budget Lodge Conference Suite (2nd floor balcony over vending nook) for those TS veterans only interested in HIGH VOLUME FRONT-END SALES OPPORTUNITIES and UNLIMITED INCOME POTENTIAL!

Kick it up a notch with Advanced Product Training SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 20 7am-12Am SHARP! Since everything GREAT happens first thing in the morning COME EARLY to the CENTER OF INFLUENCE ACTIVITY Pre-meeting from 7am- 7:25am!! STAY LATE for INITIATING LEVERAGED DELIVERABLES AFTER HOURS from 5:10pm – 8pm!! Stay up late From 8:10pm- 10pm for MEET & GREET, plus CROSS-PROMOTIONAL RETURNS with JOE BIDEN, our FIRST EVP and BILLION $ GROSS PRODUCTION EARNER!! Then breakout into small groups & put your skills to the test with our SMALL GROUP ROUNDTABLE, utilizing CCPM BARRY OBAMA’S patented & winning “FUNDAMENTAL TRANSFORMATIONAL APPROACH” till midnight!!

Special Guests include not only the Original BILLION $ EVP Joe Biden but California’s GNV Nan Pelosi, who increased her net wealth 1,657% IN ONE YEAR working PART-TIME – BUFF and HONE your SELLING SKILLS from the BEST in the Company!! Increase your bottom line Profit$ by Selling and retaining in the tube sock Industry. Retain your PMA to reduce your N-O-PAY!

Your Hosts Barry & Michelle Obama (Coordinator Circle Platinum Medallion winners, 1994-1997; 1999-2003; 2005-2010) are hot off their motor Home recruiting swing and will introduce the team from the Southeast north central region’s Best market leaders to train on the ABC's AND XYZ's of Product Sales for NO ZERO WEEKS!

GROUP SCHOOL September 21-27 AT THIS LOCATION for 24-month veterans with TGS of at least $30B AP and no-pay of 10% or less and 1.5 retention means access to Professional Quality Product Sales Tools and securing the skills and TOP DOLLAR RENEWAL INCOME we look for in the TUBE SOCK industry.

Bring a pencil and paper and prepare to LEARN

Never miss PSG again or any Company Bonus due to flagging . . . FLEA MARKETS are clamoring for OUR QUALITY TUBE SOCK PRODUCT and HIGH VOLUME SALESPEOPLE who go the extra mile.
DON’T MISS ONE MINUTE - PRE-REGISTRATION REQUIRED TO SECURE YOUR SEATS for both Schools. For Licensed INSIDE independent sales associates only with contracted flea market, swap meet or antique market space. Call Group Marketing OR GO ONLINE (INSIDE ASSOCIATES ONLY) TO WWW.WHITEHOUSE.GOV.

Tea Party Downgrades and Disasters throughout History

2011-08-11T17:37:00.000-04:00

By Art Mutt, guest Liberal columnist to Newsfromdoswell.

Fewer major events down through American History have been more fundamentally transformed than those altered by the diabolical actions of a deranged segment of the population known as the tea party. Believed by many to have been created solely from the ashes of the 2008 election, tea party bacteria has actually fouled the life blood of American History almost since the beginning of, well, American History. Believed by Howard Dean, Harry Reid, Chuck Schumer and others to be both a dying and simultaneously thriving movement, the impact of the tea party’s anti-government actions have stifled progressivism and socialized social programs far longer than conservatives boldly admit or Democrats dare confess. Or whatever.

The Assassination of Garfield. Less than four months after President James A. Garfield took office, on July 2, 1881, Charles J. Guiteau purchased a .442 British Bulldog revolver at an unregulated Virginia gun show and shot him. A nearby security officer was almost shot as well but a thoughtful telephone union worker who had been punished with a baby placed his daughter in front of him as a human shield. Garfield died September 19, 1881, due to complications caused by a lack of centralized government health care shot down by idiotic conservatives in congress and inexpensive life-saving antibiotics that could not get shipped in fast enough from Canada. Reportedly ranting about high taxes and government deficits, Guiteau was immediately arrested, tried and found guilty. His appeal was rejected, and he bitterly clinged to life before he was hanged on June 30, 1882 in DC. Guiteau was primarily motivated by his political beliefs and Tea Party membership, which undoubtedly accounted for his derangement.

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Also known as the Pacific Trash Vortex, is an enormous swirling toilet bowl of discarded plastic waste in the North Central Pacific Ocean estimated by some to be the size of the United States and its duty-free friendly neighbor Mexico. The Algalita Marine Research Foundation found in 2008 that plastic outnumbers plankton in the patch by 48 to 1. Located just under the surface of the water, it may contain over 100 million tons of non-recyclable debris and the severe eco-imbalance caused by it most likely spawned Hurricane Katrina (see #9 below), the first Republican-manufactured hurricane containing an African-American seek-and-destroy feature. The trash was all dropped there by filthy rich, corporate jet-flying tea partiers, who hate President Obama solely because he’s black.

Monsanto. Corporate butthead Monsanto routinely dumped millions of pounds of toxic waste into open-pit landfills for 40 years while producing polar bear-killing, global-warming causing industrial coolants called PCBs. Conservative Monsanto executives spent decades covering it up while neglecting to warn the communities and whiting out (not blacking out, because they’re racists) portions of their reports and case studies while paying themselves giant low-taxable bonuses. Monsanto has yet to apologize or take responsibility for their crimes, even though they were forced to pay $700 billion in fines in 2003 alone. Monsanto’s entire workforce is comprised of tea party members who worship Michelle Bachmann, her eyes made crazy by the PCBs she reportedly eats every morning for breakfast.

Palin: "Clean those animals so
I can shoot them!"

The Exxon-Valdez oil spill. The spill of March 23rd, 1989 devastated the coast of Alaska when 10.8 million gallons of Republican government-subsidized Reagan-era crude oil spilled into the secluded Prince William Sound, eventually covering 11,000 miles of ocean, creating the most notorious man-made environmental disaster in American history. The ship, which was on autopilot because the idiotic tea party pilots were too busy laughing about their artificially low tariffs and admiring their future governor Sarah Palin to pilot themselves, struck Bligh Reef, releasing about 1/5th of its total haul of oil. Cleanup began that April, no thanks to tea partiers led by Palin herself, who stood on the banks, pointing and laughing at the concerned democrats laboring tirelessly to clean up the mess. “You progressives get those animals good and clean so I can shoot them all!” Palin reportedly shouted, according to an anonymous source. Stupid future governor.

The influenza pandemic of 1918 killed an estimated 50 million people around the world -- 34 million more than died from the First World War again because globalized socialized health care had been voted down by Republicans in congress. And instead of targeting pasty, feeble and angry Republicans, like most flu, the 1918 flu was particularly deadly by design among young, vibrant and healthy Democrats (although 14 of them in Wisconsin escaped the flu by fleeing to a motel in Illinois). Though dubbed the Spanish flu, the geographic origin of the disease remains unknown, although some hypothesize that it was probably created in a Texas laboratory by an infuriated Tea party member, who was blinded by rage against the kind and benevolent Democratic ~~Dictator~~ President Woodrow Wilson simply because he sent 100,000 American troops without congressional approval into the middle of the Russian Civil war, the Philippines, Mexico and South America.

Mount St. Helens. In May, 1980 Mount St. Helens created the second largest landslide in recent history (second only to the election of our beloved Barack Obama) when a magnitude 11 earthquake prophesized by Al Gore and created by thoughtless carbon dioxide-spewing Republicans loosened the volcano’s north flank. A wave of earth and ice chunks (some ridden by desperate polar bears) rushed down the mountain at 150 mph, pouring into Spirit Lake and coursing 13 miles down the North Fork of the Toutle River, smothering it with as much as 600 ft. of debris. By the time it was over, the landslide had entombed 24 square miles of forest. Without a cut, cap of earth or balance of foliage to keep it sealed under pressure, Mount St. Helens exploded like a tea party member reading Barney Frank’s biography. Sulfur dioxide gas in the freshly exposed magma, together with compressed water and steam, expanded and blew out the north side of the mountain. This “lateral blast” reached 100 stories high and spread 10 miles as it plowed down valleys and over ridges at speeds near 700 mph, claiming 57 fatalities. The Tea Party did a better job covering their involvement in this disaster than in most, and their participation has yet to be ascertained, but I will not rest until it is. Racist idiots.

The tour starts in 5 minutes

September 11 . . . well, OK, no. But I’m sure they would . . . well maybe not. Forget it.

Three Mile Island. The 1979 Three Mile Island nuclear accident resulted in the release of up to 13 million curies of radioactive gases and remains the most notorious accident in the history of the American nuclear power industry. The accident, which took place at the Three Mile Island Nuclear Generating Station in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania in 1979, was a partial core meltdown caused by failures in the non-nuclear secondary system, followed by a stuck relief valve which allowed large amounts of reactor coolant to escape. Over the months that followed, the company outright lied about the extent of the accident and its potential effects on nearby residents’ health. Evacuation routes leading from Dauphin County could not be opened because the tea party Republicans had denied the state funds for highway, bridge and other infrastructural improvements. Security cameras in the coolant dome confirm a non-union tea party member put super glue on the relief valve because he was enraged at the federal withholding in his paycheck, then angrily claimed he did no such thing. Stupid, racist tea partier.

Hurrican Katrina – My God, do I even have to explain this one?

Assassination of McKinley. The assassination of President William McKinley occurred on Friday, September 6, 1901, at the Temple of Music in Buffalo, New York while McKinley attended the Pan-American Exposition. He was shot fast and furious by Leon Czolgosz, a likely Tea Party loyalist who was made politically ineffectual by his addiction to high-fat fast-food hamburgers, the ubiquitous availability of futility management and incensed about giving widows and orphans government stipends. Proud and beefy union members in the crowd immediately surrounded Czolgosz, pointing fingers and chanting “Shame!” over and over and over before the police arrested him. Czolgosz was convicted and electrocuted by tea party-loving coal-powered electricity in Auburn Prison on October 29, 1901. Czolgosz's actions were politically motivated, and although it is unclear what outcome he believed the shooting would yield it is assumed it was simply an act of domestic terrorism brought on by the growing snail darter population and plain old anti-government rage.

“Why is it women always get all the free stuff?” Doswell Man Furious that Obamacare did not make Condoms Free

2011-08-04T18:49:00.000-04:00

Gas station bathroom: pay up, guys

"Quality government-provided birth control should start in places like gas station bathrooms"

In light of the recent ruling in the Affordable Health Care Law that women can now get birth control free from their doctor, Teman Road resident Wallace Binghamton flew into a rage, angry that as a man he still had to plunk down three quarters in a gas station bathroom just to buy a “crappy 3-pack of rubbers”.

“That just ain’t right,” complained the “sexually active” 44-year-old. “The dames get the free stuff and guys still gotta pony up. What’s next? They gonna make a law next that says guys also gotta pay child support? Crap.”

“And those gas station rubbers don’t fit,” Binghamton said, “They’re one-size-fits-none – it’s like putting a cat in a sandwich bag. I’m better off using saran wrap and a rubber band. But I guess I gotta pay for them too.”

“Women got it made, man – they get all the free stuff. Good government-based birth control has a place in this country's gas station and bus terminal bathrooms.”

Binghamton: wants more free stuff

Recalling his days as a teenager in the 1970s when it was rumored that the "high school skanks" he knew could run to the ladies room to self-administer a spray of Coca-Cola as a quick, after-the-fact birth control device, Binghamton flew off again, stating loudly that he supposed “Chicks can get free Cokes now too if they use ‘em for birth control. That sucks, man”.

Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius did not return phone calls on this inquiry, despite our leaving numerous voicemails on the subject. “She was probably out getting her free ‘slamogram’ then pick up some complimentary IUDs at the DuPont Circle Walgreens” fumed the furious Binghamton. “Damn this sucks.”

In Post-Obamageddon “Bankrupttown”, Final Debt Debates to be Settled in “Dunderdome”

2011-07-29T14:27:00.000-04:00

“Two Congressmen enter, one uncompromising SOB Leaves”

Speaker of the House John “Ironhead” Boehner (R) and Senate Leader Harry “Dr. Gooddeal” Reid (D) confirmed at a joint press conference this morning in the Halls of Justice in Bankrupttown that the final introduction, debate and vote on the latest debt Reduction bill will be held in a facility called Dunderdome to erase any lingering doubt as to who is the “staunchest, most uncompromising bastard” in Congress and to settle the debt debate once and for all.

“Parliamentary procedure and Robert’s Rules have gotten us squat so far,” explained Democratic spokesman Barney Frank as he suited up in a weird S&M-style leather harness. “We figure that a one-on-one, make-it-take-it round-robin no-holds-barred round inside a cage constructed of crushed cars from the cash for clunkers program, chainlink fence left over from the Nixon administration and barbed wire from Gitmo will separate the Progressives from the Rinos, and the tea partiers from whomever else.”

“Welcome to another edition of Dunderdome!”

“Remember where you are,” President Obama practiced in front of a mirror shard in the West wing, wearing an outsize gutted buffalo head that kept slipping down over his eyes. “This, is Dunderdome,” he repeated before launching into a 30-minute introduction written by Jay “Toady" Carney and broadcasted over his bedroom teleprompter.

“You think I don't know the law?” The President reiterated, “Wasn't it me who voted present on it? And I say that these Congressmen and women have flaunted their ideology far too long. Right or wrong, we need a deal. And the law says: Bust a deal or face the treasury secretary – or something better that rhymes. This is a work in progress.”

The Congressmen can elect to duke it out in the sawdust dome one-on-one or two-on-two. Already House Republicans Eric “Sneer” Cantor and Ironhead Boehner have teamed into a character called “Master Boehner”, in which Cantor will fight while riding on the speaker’s shoulders. Originally scheduled to fight the Democratic team of Anthony Wiener and Charley Rangel until Rangel had to recruit a new partner, They promised that if they lost to their newest adversary Mark “Blackfinger” Warner they will order the permanent shutting down of the steady stream of manure that powers Bankrupttown.

In the meantime, “Master Boehner” displayed the power he wields within the city. “Bankrupttown – finished!” He screeched at Senate Democrats who just voted down Cut, Cap and Balance, waving a tiny fist and displaying the handy wall-mounted lever inside the House chamber that shuts off the river of manure that powers the bloated and listing shell of its former self on the banks of the Potomac. “Who run Bankrupttown?” he commanded with a hand on the lever.

“You know who runs Bankrupttown,” admitted Dr. Gooddeal Reid, “And I remind you, no more embargoes.”

“Listen all!” Obama interrupted below the fray in his 14th hastily convened press conference, “This is the truth of it. Ideology leads to fighting, and fighting leads to killing, and killing gets to warring. And that was damn near the death of us all. Look at us now! Busted up, and me talking about corporate jets and ending oil subsidies! But we've learned, by the dust of them all... Bankrupttown learned. Now, when elected representatives get to fighting, it happens here! And it finishes here! Two congressmen enter; one uncompromising SOB leaves.”

Results of the Dunderdome games will be reported later at this location.

Sometimes City Council Members Look Like Clip Art slapped Together as well.

2011-07-25T11:35:00.000-04:00

Click it to make it readable.

Doswell Man Unearths Extremely Rare 1923 Comic Book, Then Tosses it out after Scanning

2011-07-23T21:30:00.000-04:00

Doswell loser Marv Winfield found one of the rarest comic books in the entire world at a Hanover County flea market - an intact 1923 copy of "Zip Zap Zowie Cosmic Comix" featuring Captain Zog and his Danger Ranger. Then after scanning it, he threw it away, claiming "I have what I came for".

Jerk.

The entire comic can be seen at Google Docs HERE.

Sometimes Crime Fighters Look Like Clip-Art Characters Slapped Together

2011-07-22T09:22:00.001-04:00

Hat tip to Richmond's Style Weekly Magazine, where this comic appeared in this weeks Comic Issue.
Click on is to make it nice and readable.

Doswell Man Thought he was at Abraham Lincoln Casting Call; Was Really in Line at Ellwood Thompson’s

2011-07-21T09:59:00.000-04:00

"If you're looking for the Lincoln
casting call, it's been moved to the
Convention Center."

Teman Road resident Marvin Winfield spent three months growing a beard in anticipation of going to the casting call for the movie “Abraham Lincoln”, directed by Steven Spielberg, with filming to be in the Richmond area. Thinking the casting call was Thursday, July 21, he drove into Richmond and promptly saw a long line of bearded men once he got off the interstate.

“I was positive that must have been the casting call, since all the guys in this line had beards, longish, unkempt hair, odd clothing and little wire-frame glasses,” said the disappointed Doswell resident.

After parking the car and standing in that line for an hour he realized as he came face-to-face with a “rather hippie-looking young lady at a cash register” that he was not at the casting call, but had inadvertently gotten in line at Ellwood Thompson’s Natural Market at the corner of Thompson and Ellwood in Richmond’s fan.

“I got to the head of the line and instead of meeting Steven Spielberg I just saw this woman in a poncho,” Winfield whined. “She asked what I had selected that I needed to pay for. Realizing my mistake I grabbed this box of something called ‘Dr. Smearex’s Patented all-natural Suet Cakes’, paid a crazy expensive price for it and got out of there.”

Winfield then encountered additional difficulties getting back down to Boulevard trying to find Interstate 95. “The streets of Carytown were clogged with these artists and writers smoking these stinky clove cigarettes, complaining they were kicked out of downtown and had nowhere else to go. It was kind of horrifying.”

Winfield is unsure if he will make the drive back to Richmond July 22 for the real casting call. “I can’t afford to buy the gas to drive to Richmond twice, especially since I bought those all-natural suet cakes,” he says, “but they are delicious.”

Long-Suppressed Burkewood Fun Park Document Released Just in Time for New eNovel

2011-07-18T18:54:00.001-04:00

Freedom of Information Act releases controversial document to general public.

Click this caption to read the document

Freedom of information requests finally proved fruitful with the release of a redacted version of the long-awaited report detailing vomit-induced corrosion at Burkewood Fun Park - the same theme park detailed in author Dale Brumfield's latest eNovel, "Bad Day at the Amusement Park".

"Vomit-induced corrosion was the smoking gun of Burkewood Park," says county building inspector and Snap-On salesman Billy Wingfield. "I was the one who stepped through that diamond-plate floor on the Whirling Dervish Ride, and I still have the scabs to prove it."

The original report, written in 1995 and marked "confidential", was released today upon receipt of the FOI request this morning. The report's original author, Newsfromdoswell blogger Dale Brumfield, was unavailable for comment. Wait, except for this one thing:

"The timing of the release of this report has nothing to do with the release of my eBook, 'Bad Day at the Amusement Park'," he claimed. "And the fact that the parks have the same name is not a guarantee that they are talking about the same place. The two have nothing to do with one another."

To view the document in its entirety, click HERE or the caption under the picture. But do so at your peril.

After reading the report, click to order "Bad Day at the Amusement Park" for your Kindle-compatible device or for your Nook.

“I’ll Pull Those Tennis Balls Right off your Walker!”

2011-07-13T10:34:00.000-04:00

Give up the tennis balls, granny.

Democrats Sound True Alarm of how GOP plans to Marginalize Seniors

The ongoing stalemate on the congressional and administration debt ceiling talks and the state of the current U.S. economy has provoked dire Democratic warnings of how the GOP plans to not only inconvenience but marginalize and financially cripple our nation’s senior citizens.

While earlier warnings from the Democratic National Committee portrayed Republicans pushing seniors off a cliff in a wheelchair, and President Obama himself admitted that if Republicans did not see things his way in the debt talks, seniors may not get their social security checks, more current suggestions are that the Republicans motives are much more sinister.

“The Republican plan is to incrementally disable our senior citizens’ through a series of actions that strike more directly at the heart of the senior lifestyle,” said DNC Chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz. “[Republicans’] recalcitrance in reaching our agreement will have devastating effects on our senior citizens.”

“Pushing them off cliffs and stripping away their social security checks is the tip of the iceberg.”

Wasserman Schultz said that effects on seniors will start benignly. “I know they have plans to take away their Velcro shoes, forcing them into loose-fitting loafers and lace-up shoes that are not conducive to mall-walking – which I know they are planning to outlaw as well,” the Florida Representative said. “And I know for a fact they plan to pull the tennis balls right off their walkers!”

“Shiny wood floors be damned – it’s scuff marks in the activity room from now on!”

DNC Vice Chair Raymond Buckley sadly agreed with the charges tossed out by Wasserman Schultz. “It’s worse than we thought – I’ve seen plans that calls for our beloved seniors to turn their thermostats down from a comfortable 86 degrees down to an unbearable 82 degrees inside their independent living communities. They are also curtailing the sales and usage of Jitterbug phones, whose ease of use is imperative to our senior treasures.”

“And 4:30 early bird buffets will become a thing of the past.”

"Sorry sir, but I cannot serve you until 6 PM,
when dinner is full price!"

“The Republicans should be ashamed,” claimed Rep. Mike Honda, another DNC Vice chair. “I got a call from the manager of a Picadilly Cafeteria in Timonium, Maryland and he claims a GOP operative informed him that he was going to have to paint over his bus parking area in the parking lot into car spaces and switch his dinner serve time from 4 PM to 6 PM, which would in effect take food out of the mouths of these poor people who have been acclimated by years of identical behavior and time management to upend their entire lives just to accommodate the extremist conservatives in Washington!”

Similarly, the owner of the Richmond, Virginia-based senior bus service Blue Hair Tours that he will severely have to curtail his excursions to Potomac Mills mall in nearby Dale City. “Blue hair excursions to Potomac Mills are my bread and butter!” claims Walter Teabing, clad in his blue wool bus driver uniform and spit-shiny black driving shoes.

"Why won't the Republicans let us sit in the folding chairs?"

“Those d*** Republicans first push granny off a cliff, then hold up her check, now they take away her trip to Potomac Mills and her Jitterbug phone – it’s barbaric!”

Long-range plans for Republicans’ continued attacks on our nation’s seniors include banning talking about World War II and putting a mandatory voicemail feature on medical alert devices.

“We Democrats may be hell on the unborn, but we truly do care about our nation’s senior population,” claimed Maryland Governor Martin O’Malley, Chair of the Democratic Governor’s Association. “And we will stop at nothing to keep those modern conveniences that out seniors find so vital to their everyday lives in place, so help me God.”

Doswell Blogger Announces Newest eBook Release! Now Available for Both Kindle and Nook, only $2.99!

2011-07-05T14:06:00.003-04:00

(cover by Richmonder Doug Dobey)

“I had no thoughts or memories of Burkewood Fun Park that did not include something horrific, bizarre, stupid or deadly. I was dead inside. The threat of obliteration by leaking gas only made me yawn.”

The March 27, 1981 opening of Burkewood Fun Park’s 19th season disintegrates from a source of anticipation into an inexplicable morass of sabotaged rides, near-drownings, nitwit managerial decisions, tainted food and freak accidents, as described by a brand new employee on his first day.

“The memo just came out . . . everything’s gone crazy.”

Spend a bad day with Dale, Barnyard, Lump, Deet, Pot Roast, Beefalo and other park employees as they make no attempt to salvage the remaining ragged dignity of this family-owned amusement park, a self-described mashup of birthday party and torture chamber, where animals run for their lives, clown dunking tanks have disclaimers and the water is always polluted.

And learn the secret of stepping off a moving Carousel without killing yourself.

***

Level Drive blogger Dale Brumfield is proud to announce his latest eBook is now available both on Amazon.com for your Kindle, iPad & other devices and at Barnes & Noble for the Nook eReader.

Buy it for Kindle HERE. Only $2.99 with free download.

See both my eBooks at Barnes & Noble HERE. Only $2.99 each!

Doswell Blogger Published by Fancy Literary Journal

2011-06-28T12:11:00.000-04:00

The Magazine is called Spurt - A Literary Journal.

Click the headline to read

“Tales From a Small Town: Deadly Circuses, Delicious Festivals and Parking Lot Carnivals”

Discarding Reputation as ‘Meanest Bookmobile Driver’, Doswell Man now ‘DJ Budget’

2011-06-25T19:56:00.000-04:00

DJ Budget: Press photo that does
not even resemble him

Hanover’s economy-minded spinner of platters

Blanton Road resident Allan O’Duffey thinks he has finally shaken his ill-deserved reputation as Doswell’s meanest bookmobile driver and has started a new career as “DJ Budget”, your “economy-minded spinner of platters”.

“Yo, dude, I can play yo skatin’ part-ay, yo,” explained the former music producer, publisher of “Richmond Scene” Magazine and bookmobile driver in a language that we presume can be understood by the bobby-soxer set, because none of us could.

O’Duffey – oops, sorry we mean DJ – claims his history as Richmond’s premier producer and almost-club owner in the mid-1980s, coupled with his years of experience as the head AV guy at the Koger Center Raddison conference center adjusting microphones for the motivational speakers that passed through makes him uniquely qualified to be safely in the same room with your teenage kids as they dance, jump up and down and generally act like teenagers.

“Yo yo yo,” he reiterated in that same bat-language, “DJ Budget is your best economy-minded music value. Peace out ya’ll.”

Senator Eric Cantor Walks out on Debt Reduction Talks, Hops in car and Drives to Undisclosed Motel in Illinois

2011-06-24T17:36:00.001-04:00

Cantor: Looking off the page

Claims he’s adopting Wisconsin Democrat Model

House Majority Leader Eric Cantor (R., Va.) said he was backing out of bipartisan debt reduction talks because the group had reached an impasse over the question of whether tax increases should be included in the deal.

The only other Republican in the group, Sen. Jon Kyl (R., Ariz.), soon followed suit, agreeing that only the highest levels of leadership could break the logjam between Democrats' demand that the budget deal include tax increases and Republicans' adamant opposition to that demand.

Cantor then climbed into an older model station wagon and drove non-stop to Berwyn, Illinois to hide out in an unnamed motel for a couple of weeks until the President and House leader John Boehner (R., OH) worked out an agreement. “I'm adopting the tactics of the Wisconsin Democrats,” Cantor said via cell phone somewhere on an exit ramp near Frankfort, Kentucky. “I’m anxious to see how this works.”

KY Shoney restaurant: Travel guides in the foyer

Sen. Kyl elected to stay in Washington, preferring to hide out in his NW side apartment. "I'm empathetic to Sen. Cantor's mission, but the thought of driving almost halfway across the country just to make a point holds no appeal to me. Besides, Eric is not the best driver - he drifts onto the rumble strips constantly."

Cantor says a travel guide found in the foyer of a nearby Shoney’s indicated a Best Western on the south side of Berwyn looked conducive to hiding out, what with a Food Lion across the parking lot and an outdoor ice machine on the second-floor breezeway.

Cantor's Berwyn motel room:
No idea why he had to mess up both beds

Doswell Man Lodges Complaint over 'Scary' Fortune Cookies

2011-06-23T11:23:00.000-04:00

The fortunes found by the Binghamton family

Teman Road resident Wally Binghamton stated he complained "vigorously" to the incomprehensible owner of the the Don't Ask Don't Tell Chinese restaurant over the regrettable, "scary and threatening" fortunes taken from the end-of-meal fortune cookies after their traditional Monday evening dinner out.

"My kids were crying when we left because of those stupid cookies," Binghamton said after leaving Doswell's most popular buffet restaurant. "We had to go next door to the Dollar General to get in better moods."

Binghamton said he complained to the owner of the eatery about the fortunes but the man seemed "totally uncomprehending of what I was telling him", Binghamton said. "He smiled and nodded as I raked him, even waving the terrifying fortunes in his face, yet he only repeated the phrase 'very hot- very spicy'."

Efforts by this reporter to contact the confusing little man were met with equal frustration - the man did not seem to understand plain English, even as I shouted it very slowly.

Readers experiencing similar scary fortunes are asked to report them to this blog.

Wiener Scandal Ends Just as Media Exhausts Hot Dog Metaphors

2011-06-19T20:06:00.000-04:00

Anthony Wiener: Swaggering Show-off or Incompetent Nitwit?

Oh I Wish I were Anthony Wiener,
That is who I’d truly like to be.
Cause if I were Anthony Wiener,
All the girls would be in love with me!

The conclusion of the Anthony Wiener scandal has induced a sigh of relief among the nation’s media writers, reporters and broadcasters, just as the supply of original Wiener-based metaphors and clever wordplay associated with those metaphors almost completely ran out.

“How many wiener, sausage, bratwurst and hot dog comparisons can be made, anyway?” asks National Press Association President Thomas MacLaughlin from his New York office. “The longer this Wiener scandal dragged out the more strained and unoriginal our comparisons and metaphors became. It was great when it started but thank God it ended when it did – we were at a breaking point.”

“The good news is we used none of those metaphors during the Barney Frank mess a few years ago,” MacLaughlin said, “even though his name is hot dog-related too. So our supply was untapped.”

“We hit home run after home run with the Tiger Woods scandal when that broke, and it seemed the clever metaphors would never end” he recalled. “Remember headlines like ‘An Iron Beats a Wood Every Time’ and ‘Tiger Woods Drives Golf Ball 400 Yards; Escalade only 59 Feet”. It was like manna from Heaven. My favorite was ‘Tiger Escapes Injury from White Air Bag in Escalade, but Beaten by One inside House’?”

The Wiener headlines fell into three broad categories – the first, the “hot dog” category portrayed the Democratic Senator as a swaggering, iron-jawed show-off; the second, or “Weenie” category was the most common, portraying him as an incompetent nitwit. The third, less common “Dr. Love” category portrayed him in more adult terms in relation to the crotch photos and his self-flattering descriptions of himself released.

A sampling of headlines around the country revealed some clever, some obvious, and a lot of just strained and unfunny word play based on the Senator’s last name.

Some heads portraying him in category 1 as an arrogant know-it-all include “Cocky Wiener Vows to Stay and Fight”, “Wiener’s Goose not Cooked Yet” and “Anthony Wiener: Not a Spoiled Brat”

“Wiener Grilled in Presser”, “Weiner Back in Fire Over Photos”, “Put Fork in Wiener – He’s Done”, “Wiener Out of the Cooler and Into the Fire” and “Wiener ‘Knocks’ the Press in ‘Wurst’ Interview Yet” are but a few of the more clever associations made on behalf of the Senator’s last name that fall into the second category

The third, or “Dr. Love” category included “Wiener Rises to Media Challenge”, “Wiener Admits: That was My Big-8”, “Wiener Stiffens Resolve in face of Congressional Censure” and “Withdrawal Method: Wiener Pulls Out of Congress at Inopportune Moment”.

A Missed opportunity by the media was “Consult a Doctor if Wiener is Still Standing after Four Hours”.

“The Frankfurt, Germany newspaper had a great one.” States MacLaughlin. “It was a man on the street poll headlined ‘Frankfurters Respond to Wiener Scandal’. Now that’s thinking outside the box.”

“Isn’t it great that modern journalism maintains its sense of fairness and dignity in the face of Government scandal?”

Crimebusters: Yogi Bear Mystery at Kings Dominion Exposed

2011-06-10T16:27:00.001-04:00

The second largest tourist attraction in Doswell, Kings Dominion, has finally released information on the 23-year-old disappearance of their beloved mascot for many years, Mr. Yogi Bear.

"It's time the park came clean on what happened to Yogi," explains park spokesperson Evelyn Maddox. "Yogi disappeared from the park one day in 1988 and we never saw him again. Then in 1991 we received the picture and the note."

"It was horrifying."

The anonymous picture and accompanying note was received at the General Manager's office with no return address, although it had passed through the Doswell post office according to the postmark.

The picture shows a bound and gagged Yogi, wrapped in plastic in the opening of his beloved "Treasure cave", his home while at the park from 1975 up till the day he disappeared.

The note reads, in cut-out letters, "We have Yogi. Leave 500 season passes behind gate 1 or the bear gets it."

"We are releasing the picture in an attempt to appeal to the general public to help us resolve this mystery," says Maddox. "We are not interested in pressing charges - we are only looking to get Yogi back."

"But they can forget us trading 500 season passes for him. That's insane."

Any information leading to the recovery of the beloved bear can be sent to Kings Dominion's Marketing department in Doswell.

Medieval Times Restaurant and Floor Show

2011-06-04T14:59:00.002-04:00

Located on the great road on the Doswell village outskirts.

"Follow me! For legend has it the Oligarch-size roast ox at the Doswell Medieval Times is magnificent!"

Note: Seeing of the incessant threat of food poisoning by malcontent servers, Medieval Times advises procuring a food taster, preferably a dwarf or other pariah

Welcome Doswell Traveler, to Medieval Times!
Traverse the drawbridge and blunder into the middle ages where the Count of Castle Medieval governs you and a thousand confidants to savor the edibles and lifestyles of the 10th century.

Walk past the impaled talking head of Oliver Cromwell as he welcomes you from his rod into the epoch of Byzantine Chants, papal inquisitions, pestilent food, great schisms, fatal sporting events, scurrying vermin and crippling diseases!

Meander in the Hall of Open Boils to regard the local eunuchs and farting wenches who will be serving your foodstuffs (burnish Grizelda's hump for good luck, and you may relish a spare serving of roots!). Novel hygenic practices are "cast asunder" to provide the more credible medium to the proceedings, and why not. Medieval Times is the most authentic Medieval Restaurant and floor show.

Behold the castle architecture -- no wood or metal is in place, only Italian sandstone block, hewn by Moorish laborers under unendurable conditions. The 80,000 square foot unheated and uncooled mansion features a 1500-seat Grand Ceremonial Arena (they are real pikes, and human skeletons?), a uniquely decorated Hall of Open Boils, the Templar Room plus the Bubonic Club and jousting arena.

Dinner meat at Medieval Times is readied by morose, malnourished locals, excluded from savoring the very viands they gird by threat of dismemberment from the Feudal Lord. Your hand-picked server may suffer from a variety of infirmities, from oozing cankers (How do you know if he is tubercular? Drain your mug and look in the bottom) to what the Saxons call "der Franzosenkrankheit". Feast on your one-course spread hastily, as the starved hired help may congregate to relieve you of your victuals in a forcible manner.

After dinner, move your bowels violently in one of the dank, sweltering corners of the murky castle while the servers heave the garbage from a window and brawl over the paltry scraps.

The dinner is surpassed only by the Medieval Times floor show commencing in the Grand Ceremonial Arena immediately following vomiting and eliminations. Reverently attend and wonder aloud as they appoint Torquemada as Grand Inquisitor. Laugh along with an unfortunate guest as he is culled from the multitude and laid open to barbs, ribalds and jests by the Inquisitor, then finally accused of sorcery and crushed with heavy stones.

Or, should fighting scourges be more your temperament, battle the Black Knight, armed only with your lucidity and a halbred (here is a hint: his wits have been blunted by plague). If decapitation is successful, perform a crowd-pleasing St. Vitus' Dance in the arena before feeding the severed head to the dogs.

You may wish to "Bring out your dead" and dump them on the trundle for final entombment in the mass sepulcher on the village outskirts as well

If sporting event attendance is not your preferred after-dinner requiescence, just loosen with a mug of grog amidst the filth to the tintamarre of Ethelred and his mandolin in the Bubonic club. No lepers, please.

We hope you enjoy your dining experience at Medieval Times. Mind that interior castle temperatures can reach 120 degrees during the solstice, therefore proper raiments (gunny sacks blanketed in dried body fluids) are requested

Appetizers

Clod of Dirt
A sizeable clod. 1-2 small stones. A moore savoursome clod you will not unearth equidistant of the local town limits, or anywhere else. $.75

Unsorted Roots
Spaded hither and thither from this manor by fiefs and oafs. Served unclean. $2.50

Berries
Paltry, bitter little ribalds. Primitial cause of many intestinal infirmities among the guests.$1.00

Entrees

Oligarch-size Roast Ox
For the sizeable appetite not yet afflicted by the black death. A bountiful, yet sibylline cut, direct from the beast slaughtered at your board. Spit-Cooked to a viscerous temperature of 95 degrees, more or less. Served awanting vegetables and a bitter crust of unleavened bread. $27.95

Feudal Lord-size Roast Ox
A more bantam cut, sundered without many of the hygienic practices of the larger. For m’ladies or plague-enfeebled men. $24.95

Castle Oysters
These roll off our tongue. Spit-served while you mind. Served warm on a crust of unleavened bread$14.50

Beheaded Fowl
We doth decimate a game-bird in view of your progeny, then behead, eviscerate and feather it and serve it yet warm. $12.95

Fish
We fetch to you a bristled fish afloat in a grail of turgid liquid. Mere touching it with a fork ruptures it into viscous lumps, it is that sponge-like $15.55

Oxen Heart
Gouged frome the beast as he stands, broiled in an open-hearth inferno and served torrid. We purge the sinews under your scrutiny. $20.25

Side Dishes

Bread
A moderate crust served unleavened. A heartier sapidity may not be espied in any vermin $2.50

Vegetables
In season only (week of May 2, Julian time, or August 23, Gregorian time). 4 - 6 insipid, unseasoned beans $15.00

Entrails
Severed from swine or game crippled by disease or albinism. A petty collander served feverish. $4.75

Offal
A temperate ration of invidious spilth. Much like swill but without the congenial aftertaste $.85

Desserts

Liver Pudding
Sired from the heart of the liver of domesticated swine $3.75

Blood Sausage
Girded from the entrails of brutes $4.00

Mawls
Wallowed in parasytized flour then skillet-fried to a bloodstained dainty $4.55

Cake
An encrusted, brittle unleavened coagulate. Italian Inquisitors sing its praises $6.45

Beverages

Water
An acrid vintage, dipped from the castle sewage lagoon in a ladle sculpted from a skull presumed by some to be Innocent III $3.00

Wine
A benevolent serving of our home-made gallimaufry, devotedly mashed by local itinerant monks $3.00

Meade
A novel experience. Projected to be popular in the forthcoming Reformation $5.00

Liberal Horror: Just Dawns on Them What “Teabagger” Term Really Implies.

2011-05-28T21:16:00.001-04:00

"Then it's agreed - Teabagger is abolished"

“Gonna start calling them something that makes us sound more smarter and not like we’re being teabagged.”

Area liberals who for two years now thought they were denigrating the tea party and its followers by referring to them as “teabaggers” suddenly realized in horror that it was a back-handed insult on themselves after googling the term with the adult guard turned off.

“Holy crap” seemed to be the pervasive reaction. “I had no idea.”

“If they are the teabaggers, does that really mean I’m the one being teabagged?” moaned Doswell liberal leader and columnist Art Mutt. “Nobody told me that teabagging was a sex act!”

Local Tea party members and conservatives got a good chuckle out of the liberals’ sudden realization what they have been saying, but bemoaned the fact that the jig was up. “For two years now every time somebody called me a teabagger I got a quiet chuckle out of it,” says Hanover tea party member Wallace Fordwick. “Whenever you have a teabagger, you have to have someone being teabagged – I guess the verbal insinuations were just a bit too complex. It’s just too funny.”

Mutt says he and his liberal friends are starting a petition to abolish the term teabagger in reference to the tea party. He said he will propose from now on referring to tea partiers in different terminology that does not indicate they are talking with someone’s testicles in their mouths.

“I think instead of teabagger we will call them ‘stupid, racist, anti-Semitic, knuckle-dragging, backwater inbred morons’. That description makes us sound a whole lot more smarter and them a whole lot stupider.”

Then the recess bell rang and Mutt and his buddies had to go back in for geography class.

Some thoughts on the new Doswell Zombie Apocalypse

2011-05-21T22:10:00.000-04:00

“Unexpected” Saturday Rapture starts new Hanover County order

As a new zombie apocalypse rather unexpectedly dawned today at 6:01 PM, I was moved to pen a few thoughts regarding the new age in which we live.

The appearance of reanimated human corpses that roam the Hanover countryside and feed on living human ﬂesh in the Doswell area due to the anticipated and now very real Rapture harkens back to stories that originated in the Afro-Caribbean spiritual system of Vodou (anglicized voodoo) that described people as being controlled by a sorcerer of some sort.

The walking dead first gained popularity in modern ﬁction primarily because of the success of George A. Romero’s 1968 ﬁlm, “Night of the Living Dead”. There are several possible etymologies of the word zombie. One possible origin is jumbie, which comes from the Carribean term for ghost. Another possible origin is the word nzambi which in Kongo means ‘spirit of a dead person’. Hold on, I see one staggering across my back yard. Let me grab my shotgun I’ll be right back.

OK. The Merriam-Webster dictionary claims the word zombie originates from the word zonbi, used in the Louisiana and Haitian Creole. According to the Creole culture, a zonbi represents a person who died and was then brought to life without speech or free will. Makes sense – the ones I see just moan.

The followers of Vodou believe that a dead person can be revived by a sorcerer, but after being revived, the zombies remain under the control of the sorcerer because they have no will of their own. Another theory claims that a sorcerer uses a ‘zombie powder’ for zombiﬁcation, which utilizes a powerful neurotoxin that temporarily paralyzes the nervous system and creates a state of hibernation. The main organs, such as the heart and lungs, and all of the bodily functions, operate at minimal levels during this state of hibernation. What turns these minimally-functioning human beings into zombies is the lack of oxygen to the brain. As a result, all zombies suffer from brain damage.

Modern zombies (such as the one I just blasted from my den window and the ones I hear trudging and moaning in the woods behind my house) are very different from the voodoo and the folklore zombies previously described. Modern zombies follow a specific standard, similar as seen in the movies. These ghoulish marauders are portrayed as mindless monsters who do not feel pain and who have an insatiable appetite for human ﬂesh. They are characterized by being undead, cannibalistic and slow-moving, and their sole aim seems to be to kill, eat or infect people. These reanimated ‘undead’ move in small, irregular steps, and show – hang on, I hear something trying to break into my lawn mower shed. Anyway, show signs of physical decomposition such as rotting ﬂesh, discoloured eyes and open wounds that are so typical of today’s post-Rapture zombie.

I got to admit – in this case life is definitely imitating art. The movies got it right.

Modern zombies are often related to an apocalypse or Rapture scenario, where societal segments have broken down or entire civilizations have collapsed due to a cataclysmic man-made or even natural event, resulting in a plague of the undead. Of particular peculiarity are background stories of zombie movies and video games that are purposefully vague or inconsistent in explaining how the zombies appeared in the ﬁrst place. While some can blame radiation, air-born viruses or disease mutation, I would certainly like to know how that group of staggering zombies now fouling my freshly-cut front yard even got up out of the ground.

An outbreak of zombies infecting humans here in Doswell is likely disastrous, unless really aggressive tactics are used to contain the undead. Aggressive quarantining may stop the infection, but this is likely only in theory. A cure would only result in a few Doswell residents surviving the outbreak (perhaps those closest to Route 1 or here in my neighborhood), although we will be forced to coexist with zombies – a prospect I personally find unappealing.

Frequent attacks, with increasing force, such as me blasting from point blank range in the back of the head may result in eventual suppression, assuming more resources can be found and utilized in time. These results assume that the timescale of the outbreak is short (less than 4 hours old so far). If the timescale of the outbreak increases, then the result is a certain doomsday scenario: a zombie outbreak that results in the collapse of first Doswell society then Hanover, then Virginia, then civilization in general, with every human infected, or dead.

This scenario assumes human births and deaths will provide the zombies with an unlimited supply of new bodies to infect, feed on and convert to their own form of undeadness. Thus, since the zombies have already arrived, we must act quickly and decisively to kill them (again) before they kill us.

A major difference between the model presented by the 6 PM Rapture today and other models of infectious disease contamination is that in today’s situaional model the dead are returning to life in a functionally limited but parasitic and cannibalistic form not usually seen in 21st century Hanover County, Virginia.

Clearly, this is a scenario considered unlikely and possibly even heretofore unheard of but now taken literally. The decomposing and marauding half-humans now gathered on my porch and clawing at my front door and windows reminds me how perilous nature can be, with the self-proclaimed end-of-the-world rapture scenario providing the slightest tilt of the natural order resulting in the now ghoulish pos

Local Liberal Blames Bin laden Shooting on Sarah Palin’s Hate-Filled Rhetoric

2011-05-20T10:30:00.000-04:00

Art Mutt: walking the line between
stupid and clever

“Sarah Palin needs to answer for the hatred she inspires” seethes a Doswell progressive in the face of the Usama Bin laden shooting, which he blames on Palin’s “hate-filled rhetoric”.

Citing various words, inflections, Facebook entries and body language, progressive critic Art Mutt states that the Navy Seal Team 6 who burst in Bin Laden’s compound and shot him dead were heavily influenced by the hateful demagoguery and acted out against the terrorist leader as a result.

“No doubt those Navy Seals were ginned up on Palin’s vitriolic rhetoric when they burst into Bin laden’s Abbottabad compound,” says Doswell lib Mutt, who blogs at Ginneduprhetoric.blogspot.com. “And what about those gun sights on her website? I’m sure that exact image was seen by that Seal just before he shot. It’s no coincidence.”

Also not by coincidence is the similarity between the name of one of Palin’s children and an integral part of the pistol used to kill Bin laden. “It’s a fine line between Trig and Trigger,” claims Mutt, stretching his argument to the absolute breaking point. “Just as it’s a fine line between stupid and clever. And I know which side of that line I’m on, you better believe it.”

Snorting Koch: Local Liberals Reluctantly Replace their Ken Cuccinelli and Sarah Palin Obsessions with Koch Brothers

2011-05-14T22:42:00.000-04:00

Local liberal progressives who once shared an neurotic fixation with Virginia Attorney General Ken Cuccinelli and erstwhile candidate/progressive recreational narcotic Sarah Palin reluctantly report they have now graduated into “Koch addicts”: that their posterior hypothalamus raises their body temperature and the ventromedial prefrontal cortex floods the facial capillaries with excessive blood flow more effectively in the presence of the name “Koch Brothers” than Palin or the state AG, disappointing Cuccinelli, who at his peak savored the angry rosy red glow that accompanied thalmus dissipation at the mere mention of his name.

“It was a great obsession while it lasted,” says Cuccinelli. “Those spastic neuron seizures were boss, and I loved how the libs blocked everything else out of their heads, including rational thought processes and basic motor functions while they fixated on me, my career and my family. It’s time for them, however, to move on. I was just a gateway.”

“I’ll miss them – but things go better with Koch.”

The conservative billionaire brothers’ personas reportedly stormed the Koch-heads’ basal ganglia recently at the David Koch Theater in New York City during the “Koch Zero: Not the Real Thing” film event, cutting lines and talking their way past the armed myoleth sheathing at the non-termination cortex exit door in the lentiform nuclei foyer, smack in the middle of obsessive/compulsive auditorium, provoking much senseless pontificating and guerrilla theatrics among the unwashed.

“George Soros – er, I mean Ken Cucc – shit, I mean David and Charles Koch represent the worst of the corrosive elements that have putrefied our democracy into a kepone-laced system of sludge management; a system where the conservative corporate teabaggers drop their pants and dip their junk into helpless citizens like me, who are relegated further to the margins!” screamed some dude wearing a Michael Moore T-shirt who obviously snorted the Kochs into his limbic system and inhibited his serotonin production, prompting him into a frenzy of agitated and furious screeching that made everyone else want to beat their cognitive frontal lobes against the nearest available hard surface.

Local progressives reported an uptick in ganglia neuron activity following the event as well, which they watched on progressive websites, their blood boiling like the water containing rainforest alliance-certified hibiscus tea, prompting congratulatory blogging and Facebooking on an event well-played. They claim that the simmer of their amygdala is now more immediate in the presence of Koch, much less than with Palin or Cuccinelli, and even less so in the presence of the labels “tea party”, “Monsanto” and “Glenn Beck” anymore.

“The space in my prefrontal lobe that normally reminds me where I can buy the freshest hummus packed in biodegradable packaging by union labor is blocked by my Koch addiction,” gripes an anonymous addict who verbally cursed the Kochs from the front seat of his Kia Sorrento despite the ironic presence of “Coexist” and “Mean people suck” bumper stickers, the new civility paradox long lost somewhere in his neurocognitive network. “The name Koch makes me spill over with apneustic hyper-respiration, causing those vacillating tremors in my vagus nerve! Smell that? That’s my bowels releasing my gluten-free organic flax seed and soy milk breakfast mush. I am that furious! My last ex-girlfriend told me to sit on a tarp but I didn’t listen.”

Richmonders seeking to sate their Koch fix report also having no problems with the NYC progressives defacing someone else’s building to make their point. “The more I hear the name Koch the louder I get and the more securely my obsession latched on to my brain stem and lobes until eventually I hope to spend every waking moment in ataxic, paralyzing shock, unable to think or write a sensible sentence without blathering the Koch name!” said the anonymous “Coexist” guy as he sped off to Elwood Thompson’s in search of bottle gourd and pomegranate elixir to ease his spastic colon. “And defacing public property is OK as long as it is done to make a point against Koch, closing Gitmo, making fun of the Palin kids or trying to force a pro-union vote in Wisconsin.”

Reached somewhere in the Alaskan wilderness reading a newspaper after putting lipstick on Katie Couric, Sarah Palin commented “What are they trying to pin on me this time? The Japan earthquake? Alabama tornadoes? The shooting of Bin Laden?” but laughed at the suggestion that she had been taken down an impulse in the liberal ventral quadrant. “It’s just a temporary adrenaline spill – I’m still the most addictive liberal fixation. The merest suggestion I may run for President will trigger abnormal extensor movement and manic perspiration, vaulting me back up the limbic system. They’ll never put down their crack Piper and go cold turkey off the Bristol Meth!”

“Hey, I can see Abbottabad from here!”

Meanwhile. The elusive Koch Brothers took a break from stroking homely white Persian cats and controlling the world’s economy from their high-tech underground lair to announce in a press release they are refusing to release a leaner, meaner version of themselves in response to health orders initiatives proposed by first lady Michelle Obama. “David is already caffeine-free,” stated the announcement, “and Charles is sugar-free. That’s enough Koch for anybody.”

Doswell Man Perplexed by Bike Rack at Airport

2011-05-11T11:31:00.000-04:00

RIC bike rack: no bikes, for good reason

“No one has any reason to ride a bike to the airport.” So states Level Drive resident Wally Folsum after spotting a bike rack outside the concourse at Richmond International airport in Richmond’s Sandston neighborhood.

“There are only two reasons to go to the airport – either to go somewhere or pick someone up. You can’t pick someone up with a bike at the airport,” the incredulous Doswell man ranted. “And who rides their bike to the airport to catch a flight? Where do they put their luggage?”

Speculation of whether the rack was short-term or long-term bike parking upset Folsum even more. “The longer the bike needs to be parked there stretches the unlikelihood even more,” Folsum announced. “Who takes a bike to catch their flight to be gone for a couple weeks? It don’t make no sense.”

Folsum brushed aside suggestions that a bike may been ridden in by either an airport employee or possibly someone who enjoys shopping or dining at one of the airports fine eating and/or shopping retailers.

Folsum: far too much time on his hands

“Give me a break, who goes shopping at the airport unless they’re buying a paperback for the flight?” he asked with much breathless exasperation. “or returning from somewhere and realizing they forgot to buy a gift or something? And even then it’s unlikely they will carry it home on a bike – jeez, it’s like four miles just to the main road!”

“Can you imagine too someone sitting at home saying, ‘hey – I’m hungry. I think I’ll ride my bike past numerous fast food joints to the airport, and enjoy a tasteless $18 burger and a $9 beer.’”

Folsum says he plans to write a letter to the Director of facilities management at RIC to determine the motivation and need for a bike rack at the airport – just as soon as he finishes a letter to the department of transportation, asking if the new waterless urinals in the Interstate rest areas compromise the former zero-effluent status of those facilities.

Sgt. Tank Furious & His Brassballs Battalion Take out Bin Laden

2011-05-05T09:15:00.000-04:00

Details emerge of raid on Bin laden compound

The Department of Defense and the Obama Administration have released the most comprehensive and accurate timeline yet of the details regarding the U.S. raid on the Bin Laden compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan.

The raid was officially conducted by a team of “the best of the best”, known as the Brassballs Battalion under the command of Sgt. Tank Furious.

The Brassballs had to be talked into this assignment, as they had already announced their retirement, buy they reluctantly agreed to do this one more job.

The Brassballs parachuted parachuteless from an unknown airplane from an unknown height under the dead of night April 30, 2011, landing within mere feet of the compound around 1:15 AM EST. After quickly dispatching the two sentries by sneaking up behind them and quickly snapping their heads to the left, Sgt. Furious and his four “Privates”: Dirk (a weapons expert), Beef (intel genius), Brick (hand-to-hand combat) and Nick (a computer wizard, and his first day as a Brassball) made various hand gestures to one another, including the “two fingers to the eyes” motion, the “slashes across the throat” motion and the “you left you right now go” motion before they split up to find Osama Bin Laden (code name: Geronimo) and capture or kill as many of his henchmen as possible using the extensive training they had received at an undetermined time and/or place using their unending supply of armaments they somehow managed to bring with them.

As the raid was being conducted President Obama stood back in Washington with his arms folded wearing a headset in an incredibly high-tech war room, watching with laser-like focus numerous giant flat-screen monitors projecting various high-def views, rotating and turning unrecognizable shapes and symbols and fast-scrolling data, accompanied by high-pitched typing sounds. Numerous technicians also wearing headsets worked fast doing inexplicable duties in front of bright-glowing VDTs just behind him. Members of the joint chiefs in perfect creased uniforms paced nervously behind him.

Back at the compound, Tank Furious stopped and lit a cigar stump gripped in his teeth prior to scanning his side of the compound, illuminated by green night-vision goggles. His goal? Geronimo himself.

Furious scurried quietly around a corner and quickly encountered two of Geronimo’s henchmen speaking in gibberish. Spotting Furious they raised their automatic weapons and began blasting hundreds of rounds. Furious faked left then right, running in slow-motion toward a wall as the henchmen shot all around him, every one missing. A third henchman stepped from a doorway, raised a rocket launcher on his shoulder and fired with seemingly no regard to the damage it would do to his own compound.

Still running in slomo with the contrail of the RPG gaining on him, Furious grabbed an overhead pipe and swung completely over as the RPG sailed under him, exploding in a roaring detonation against the compound wall. Taking advantage of the blinding flash, Furious released the pipe then ran three steps up the crumbling wall, back-flipped while drawing his sidearms, landed, tucked, rolled and squeezed off dozens of shots into the henchmen, their still-standing bodies twisting and twitching violently as the bullets filled them.

Back in Washington the President motioned to a 5-star general. “Why did Sgt. Furious shoot those men 20 times each?”

“I think he ran out of bullets, sir.”

Obama shook his head. “He’s a killing machine.”

Back inside another part of the compound, Dirk led Nick into a lavishly-outfitted garishly green and blue-lit computer room with no indication of electricity going in or out. They were in the belly of the beast – Bin Laden’s ultra-sophisticated high-tech evil genius headquarters. Nick sat down in front of a glowing video display terminal and typed rapidly until he got a blinking “access denied” message. “Come to Papa” he said as he plugged a thumbdrive into a USB port, typed rapidly until he got a “bypass password?” message. Typing rapidly again he hit “return” one time and millions of lines of data scrolled past.

He looked up at Dirk. “We’re in” he said just before shooting erupted in the next room.

“You keep working I’ll keep the mosquitoes out” Dirk said as he sprinted to the wall, listened, then fired his rifle through the wall. He and Nick heard a muffled scream and a thud on the other side, indicating he had successfully killed one of Geronimo’s bodyguards sight unseen through a wall.

Meanwhile, in another room Brick encountered a nunchuck-swinging bodyguard and was involved in an almost ballet-like martial arts hand-to-hand fight with the guy while Tank Furious ducked and weaved through numerous ululating and screaming white-robed bodyguards, ducking bullets and knives while punching, stabbing and head-butting every one of them until he reached Bin Laden’s bedroom literally unscathed. He put his finger up to his headset. “Brassball-one to Brassball-4, copy!”

“Copy Brassball-one!”

“Complete the download, I’m going inside Geronimo’s teepee!”

“You can’t, Brassball-one, I need more time!”

"Time is the one thing we don't have! Brassball-one out!"

Cursing, Nick typed furiously on the keyboard with not a single error when one of Geronimo’s henchmen snuck in behind him. Nick had his hand on the thumbdrive when a single shot rang out. The bullet struck Nick in the back, a slomo geyser of blood spurting straight up as Nick staggered, let out a long and slow “Noooooooo…” and landed on the floor with a dusty “Oomph!”

Outraged, his partner Dirk turned and unleashed a barrage of machine gun fire into the henchman, his body also standing while it twitched violently as hundreds of bullets exploded all over it. The henchman was still standing when Dirk walked up to him, blew on him softly and he tumbled over. He kicked the body twice. “That’s for Nick – and another for his widow.”

Back in Washington the President took a concerned step forward as he stared at the giant monitors. “What in the hell do those Brassballs think they’re doing?”

“They’re the best of the best sir. They know what they’re doing.”

The President looked back at the monitors. “Those guys are loose cannons! I’m afraid we’re losing the initiative.”

In another area on the second floor, a cowardly, babbling robed henchman who may have served Bin Laden as plucky comic relief tied a rope around a giant safe and the other end around his own waist as he was going to lower himself down into the driver’s seat of a jeep parked on the ground below to escape. As he was lowering himself Beef entered the room, saw what was going on, took aim with his pistol after stopping to light a cigarette and shot the brake on the safe wheels. It suddenly rolled forward from the weight of the coward, dropping him first in the jeep with a thud, then the safe rolled crashed through the window behind him. The coward looked up and screamed as the safe plummeted and smashed him and the jeep flat before exploding in a massive fireball.

Beef leaned out the window and spit before quipping “I hope you have your triple-A card.”

Back at Geronimo’s teepee entrance, Sgt. Furious quietly set a plastic explosives charge on the wooden door, complete with a huge digital countdown that beeped with each second. As it detonated, blowing the door off the hinges Tank charged the room, only for his quarry, Bin laden himself, to drop from overhead like a swamp snake, landing on top of him. With Tank pinned to the floor, Bin laden beat him mercilessly in the face while screaming epithets about yankee dogs and imperialist war mongers. Finally Tank was able to roll Bin Laden off and, after losing their respective weapons, squared off in a perfectly-executed martial arts face-off.

Brick and Beef, meanwhile, had retrieved every hard drive, laptop, Blackberry and CD from the computer room (along with several cases of 12-year-old Scotch) and were stacking them in the back of a truck, conveniently parked there by someone.

Back in “Geronimo’s teepee”, just as it seemed Bin Laden was about to put the finishing touches on Sgt. Furious with Chinese Kung fu, the Sgt. grabbed a hot water heating pipe against the wall, broke it from the joint and pointed it in Bin laden’s face, scalding him. “You need to let off some steam,” Furious said as Bin Laden screamed in agony, suddenly completely recovered from his beating before he pulled a pistol out from somewhere and shot Bin laden one time in the chest. The criminal mastermind dropped unconscious to the floor.

“I’m one yankee dog that ain’t yet housebroken.” He said, chomping his cigar stub.

Cheers broke out in the high-tech war room back in DC but the President quickly silenced them. “This is no time for celebration,” he said. “I want verification of death, including DNA results. And I want them in 5 minutes.”

After moving Bin laden’s presumed dead body onto a cot in an unlocked and unguarded storage closet the Brassballs met up in the al Qaeda leader’s rumpus room. They stripped out of their gear, lit cigars and poured whiskey in celebration of a job well-done.

But Sgt. Furious quieted them after the drinks were poured. “We pause to remember our fallen comrade, Nick.” He pointed to a cot in the corner by the door, where Nick’s body had been brought in by somebody. “Even though it was only his first day as a Brassball, he was a good egg, and a wiz with computers…”

Meanwhile, back in the dark but not too dark closet, Bin laden – without even opening his eyes – slowly reached up and opened the front of his robe, revealing a Kevlar jacket underneath with a .38 caliber bullet embedded in it.

Back in the rumpus room the Brassballs were finishing their whiskey when suddenly the door kicked in with a splintering crash. There stood Bin laden with a crazed look on his face. Sgt. Furious wondered how Bin Laden was able to merely kick a door down when he needed a pound of C4 to do the same.

Back in DC the President put his finger to his headset. “What’s happening, Furious! Talk to me!”

In shock at the sudden appearance at the man they thought was dead, the men sat helpless, their guns and weaponry in a stack on the floor as Bin laden crossed his arms in front and pulled matching 9mm submachine guns from under his robes. “You Americans have ‘little’ friends, but you can say hello to my very large friends!” he shouted, “Allah and Akbar!”

But suddenly a voice yelled from the cot by the door. “Hey Bin Laden!”

Stunned, Bin laden stopped everything and looked down at the man they all thought was dead – Nick the computer wizard. “Didn’t your mommy tell you to always keep an eye out for Americans?” he said weakly just as he raised his sidearm and fired a single shot straight through Bin laden’s right eye, blowing off the back of his head. Bin laden could only stare in disbelief with his one good eye before he started shaking violently all over, squeezing off several rounds from his machine guns into the ceiling before he gurgled and dropped to his knees, then fell flat on his face, dead.

As Nick’s lifeless hand dropped to his side, it slowly opened to reveal the presumed lost thumbdrive that contained all the information on Bin Laden’s criminal enterprise.

Back in DC, President Obama was infuriated as he continued to scream into his headset. “Furious! Answer me! What’s happening there!”

Suddenly one of the drop-dead beautiful black female technicians wearing a headset stood and held up a SAT phone. “Sir? You’re going to want to take this!”

President Obama walked over and gave the technician the evil eye. “This better be good.”

He held the SAT phone to his ear. “This is the President.”

It was Sgt. Furious. “This is Brassballs-one, Mr. President. Mission accomplished. We’re outta here.”

“Damn you Furious! Where are you? You’ve breached protocol for the last time . . .!”

In front of a sunset on a Caribbean beach, as a Jamaican water brought drinks, Sgt. Furious laid down the phone in the beach chair beside him, the President’s voice trailing off and unintelligible as he rolled over and full-body kissed the bikini babe beside him.

Donald Trump Announces Time-Travel project to 1880 to make U.S. President Chester Arthur prove “once and for all” he was not born in Canada.

2011-05-03T10:14:00.001-04:00

Trump: Hair Tsunami

Having declared himself a “success” in forcing President Barack Obama to produce his long-form birth certificate, long-shot presidential candidate and short-fingered vulgarian Donald Trump has announced he is working with a scientist named Peabody and an inquisitive and earnest lad named Sherman to build a “Waybac” time machine to travel back to 1880 to force 21st President Chester Arthur to prove he was not born in Canada.

“Just produce the certificate!” Trump shouted through a megaphone to a small crowd of mentally-deficient-looking scientists, gamers and Bullwinkle fans outside a scientific-looking warehouse, where beeps, buzzes and boinks emanated at random times, leading everyone in attendance to believe that something scientific was going on inside.

Chester Arthur: Shifty Canuck

Chester Arthur was the son of William Arthur and Malvina Stone Arthur, and most references list him as having been born in Fairfield, Vermont on October 5, 1829, even though Arthur claimed to have born in 1830, the date that is on his tombstone. His Father and mother at one point prior to that date owned a farm about 80 miles north of the U.S. border in Quebec, Canada, and there has been speculation that the future president was actually born in Canada and that the family moved to Fairfield later.

“Arthur was constitutionally ineligible to serve as president, and I have top men, a dog with glasses and a nerdy kid working around the clock to prove it!” Trump announced, waving a 1998 Ottawa Citizen newspaper containing a story asserting Arthur was born in his grandparents' home in Dunham Canada but "probably" appropriated the birth records of an older brother, who had died many years previous.

Trump's assistants: ink on cells

"The great impostor, the ultimate spoilsman, has never been defrocked. Not bad for a Canadian, eh?" said the newspaper, which called Arthur "our man in Washington."

“I am in talks with another inventor and explorer named Mr. Whoopee to assist me in this endeavor,” shouted Trump, his hair waving in the breeze like the massive tidal wave that inundated New York City in the film “The Day After Tomorrow”. “I will not rest knowing that Canadians smugly think one of their own was once President of this great country! And that Arthur, while I do appreciate and greatly admire his moustache-sideburn handlebar combo, cannot get away with this presidential façade any longer!”

“Chester Arthur, you’re fired!”

Trump then shook hands with who he claimed was Peabody but was actually no one at all.

The Kiss

2011-04-28T14:05:00.001-04:00

I know who kissed me.

Holy Thursday Mass at St. Benedict’s Parish in Richmond had just concluded with the placement of the Holy Sacrament in the St. Mary’s Altar. A small group had gathered around it to pray and contemplate. I walked over near a marble column in front of the Altar and knelt down. I had a lot to be thankful for this Easter season.

On March 7, 2009 my wife Susan woke up and noticed her hands would not stop tingling. Thinking she slept on them wrong, she shook and shook them. When the tingling ran up her arms she called the Doctor. He told her to go straight to the ER.

Susan spent 39 of the 40 days of Lent lying in the hospital. On Good Friday she was coming home. The ordeal was over; she had made remarkable progress. I was so thankful she had recovered that I knelt before the Altar and lay my head down on my arm, thanking God for bringing her home.

I had to drop off the kids that day so I met her at the emergency room. She was at that point unable to write her own name. They did a battery of tests, including a CAT scan and an MRI. They were all negative, but Susan was still losing sensation in her extremities. Soon she was unable to walk. Soon after that she was unable to move at all.

I knelt before the Altar, with my head down on my arm and my eyes closed, for several minutes before suddenly someone kissed me on the cheek. It wasn’t a passing peck from a well-wisher; it was fervent and alive – the kind of kiss you receive from someone who cares about you very much. It was unmistakable; loud and wet, planted solidly on my right cheek. I smiled, thinking how sweet it was that someone at St. Benedict’s cared enough about me and my family to extend such an eager and demonstrative gesture. Before I even raised my head I suspected the kiss was from one of the ladies of our church who had been so kind to our family during our ordeal. I assumed she was as happy as me that Susan was coming home.

So less than one second after the kiss I raised my head to acknowledge that person.

A sharp neurologist came in to the ER and asked Susan a few questions. He checked her reflexes – they did not exist anymore. “I think I know your problem” he said, “And it will get much worse before it gets better.” His diagnosis was Guillian-Barré syndrome. She was admitted to the ICU, where she remained for eight days, paralyzed from the shoulders down. On the ninth day they transferred her to Sheltering Arms Rehabilitation Hospital, where she began a rigorous regimen of physical therapy to re-learn how to get up, bathe, dress and feed herself.

I looked up after the kiss and no one was there.

I snapped my head around behind me to see who kissed me. There was a small group talking quietly in the center aisle, their backs to me. A man fifty feet away walked from the side porch toward me before turning to join the group in the center aisle. They were all too far away. I turned to look the other way. A small crowd was still gathered around the Altar. None of them had just walked by; in fact I barely knew any of them. Whoever kissed me literally had to sprint for the door – or simply vanish.

During Susan’s hospitalization I did everything I could to keep life as normal as possible. The kids and I visited her every day (sometimes twice a day) and recited the rosary every night. We had our bad moments: after visiting her the second day in ICU I broke down, scared to death the disease was going into her diaphragm and make a ventilator necessary. No one told me at the time, for good reason, that mortality goes to 50% in those cases.

As I turned back from the Altar I had another, much more profound realization: during the kiss there was no human presence beside me. Even though my eyes were closed and my head bowed I had no sense of someone kneeling or standing that close. Normally when someone gets close enough to kiss you sight unseen you sense when they are beside you. There are indicators – a shadow, breath on your cheek, a brushing of their nose or rustling of clothing. It is almost impossible for someone to get close enough to kiss you without noticing, even when your eyes are closed. I realized too that whoever kissed me left no lingering remnants – no dampness, no lipstick, no whiff of perfume. I experienced none of those, only a kiss.

I kept my kiss a secret for two weeks before I told Susan about it. She was dumbfounded. We tried to recreate the kiss – I knelt in our den, and she tried to sneak in to kiss me the same way at the same angles. It was impossible – she couldn’t get within three feet of me without me knowing she was there. Even with eyes shut tight, you just know if someone is beside you. I heard and felt her breath against my cheek. I smelled her. I heard her breathing and the close sounds of someone bending way down. When she kissed me because of the position her nose planted firmly against me. She was there. The one who kissed me on Holy Thursday was not there. Not in person anyway.

The kisser wasn’t who I thought – but I know who it was. It was indeed someone who cares very much about me. It was someone who through their tender act of kindness was assuring me that even though the years ahead will hold difficult choices and many tribulations, everything will be OK. The one who kissed me was not someone who snuck in close, landed a wet one then sprinted for the door to avoid detection. The one who kissed me walks with me every day. I just have to believe they are at my side, and will never leave. Their kiss was reassuring and gave me hope.

Two years after the kiss I work to maintain the memory of the event exactly as it happened. Human nature embellishes memories. I fight every day avoiding embellishing the memory of my kiss.

Susan likes to relate that her Lenten penance that year was to be paralyzed and have to learn again how to perform the basic life functions we take for granted. I could say that my Lenten penance was to deal with the stress and loneliness of having a loved one in the hospital, but I don’t really believe it. That lets me off too easy.

Today Susan is 100% healed, and because of her ordeal is beginning the second year in her quest to become a registered nurse. It is a challenge – we now have three in college; I am the sole wage earner, and am responsible for household duties and meals. We go days barely seeing each other. I never know where the money for her next semester is coming from, but it always appears from somewhere. “Even if I win the lottery I still want to be a nurse” she says. Yes, I say, absolutely, you are going to be a great nurse.

I have the kiss to prove it.

***

You can read Susan’s account of her illness HERE

Virginia Governor McDonnell Flies Over Gloucester; Reports No Tornado Damage

2011-04-18T21:48:00.000-04:00

"Now here's my Curly impression: Nyuck nyuck!"

Virginia Governor Bob McDonnell flew over Gloucester today and reported seeing "no tornado damage", despite numerous reports of extensive damage from Surry County through Deltaville down to teh Tidewater area, including Gloucester County.

"Oh, you mean Gloucester, VIRGINIA?" asked the befuddled Governor. "Great. I just charged Virginia taxpayers thousands to fly to England."

Gov. McDonnell's spokesman reports tomorrow they will drive to Gloucester Virginia to view the damage.

VP Joe Biden Pegged to Head up FAA Task Force into Sleeping Air Traffic Controllers

2011-04-14T19:35:00.000-04:00

"Will not rest until all allegations of sleeping on the job are addressed".

Doswell Blogger wins 1st Place Award at Virginia Press Association Shindig

2011-04-11T20:32:00.003-04:00

Transcript of acceptance speech

On April 9, 2011 Newsfromdoswell blogger Dale Brumfield won first place for best Arts Writing in 2010 from the Virginia Press Association for his cover story in Style Weekly titled “The Best Worst Movie you Never Saw”, the story about the movie “Rock n Roll Hotel”. The full transcript of his acceptance speech follows.

(SPECIAL): “It’s me? Are you sure? [unintelligible] It is me? Is this a trick?

Wow. Good evening everyone. It’s times like this that almost make me glad I dropped out of that Mexican dental school and pursued writing. This is like winning an Oscar. No, even better, it’s like winning a People’s Choice award.

I asked an Indian woman to accept this award for me like Brando did that time but she is stuck in the Hampton Roads tunnel due to a chemical spill caused when a car remarkably similar to mine cut off a tanker according to that guy on tunnel traffic radio station KMJR-315 at 610 AM. Sorry Miss Ashurbaniserpaphone, I’m sure they’ll clear that spill soon.

They say a good writer is nothing without a good editor. Well I am here to put an end to that rumor. Sure, Style Arts Editor Don Harrison pushed me to actually type the darn thing instead of writing it on napkins – my raison d’être – and talk to real people instead of just making up the quotes, like most of my opinion readers already swear I do. Harrison also encouraged me to lay off the sauce while writing the piece so my words would be lucid, I think he said.

Brumfield (L) and Editor Harrison (R): One is drunk, the other isn't
photo by Scott Elmquist

I need to thank all my Facebook friends who joined the Rock and Roll Hotel Facebook page and basically wrote the story for me. It was you people who actually made the story with your memories and such, and I will happily be the one to accept the accolades on your behalf, whoever you all were, and I wish I could remember every one of your names because I would name you all if I could but I lost the piece of paper they were written while I was talking on my cell phone inside the tunnel and I almost veered in front of a truck.

I have to thank Screenwriter Russ Dvonch for his complete incredulity at the beginning of this project, then for his slow acceptance, then incredulity again, then his final acceptance that the film was really in existence. In fact he flew all the way from Hollywood to Richmond just to prove to his wife that the movie was real. I could hear him in the row behind me at the premiere saying over and over, ‘I can’t believe this movie actually exists’. Neither could I, Russ.

I have to thank too Producer Peter Rodis, who told me in the beginning that the movie was completed then distanced himself from the project. Just kidding Peter! You can start returning my phone calls any time now.

We invited Judd Nelson to the premiere but he had a prior engagement at a Big Lots so we are sorry he could not attend.

A big big thanks to Architect Craig Hodgetts in Culver City California, and his lovely assistant Natalie for all their work digging through their closet and finding that VHS tape that said RnR Hotel but was in fact Natalie’s vacation to the Grand Canyon in 1999 which she taped over the original movie, but thank goodness they kept digging and found another copy!

Well I hear the music swelling and Harrison’s little cassette recorder is running out of tape so let me conclude by saying overwerp….

UPDATED: Doswell Family Chosen to be “Sad” Photo Prop for Government Shutdown

2011-04-08T09:43:00.001-04:00

We can only hope

Mom & Tabbithia: Sad beyond belief on cue

Already on their way to Shenandoah National Park North Gate for “disappointment” photo op

(Special) Teman Road's Brownlow family - dad Chuck, mom Joan, son Wayne and daughter Tabbithia - have been chosen in a national lottery to be the “sad family” who “traveled all the way to a national park” to be “greeted by a closed sign” because of the “evil republicans” who saw to it that the US government got shut down due to the 2011 budget impasse.

“I am thrilled we were chosen to be the “disappointed family” photo prop for the mainstream media” stated dad Chuck Brownlow. “My wife Joan and our kids, Tabbithia and Wayne have been practicing our sad faces all morning in preparation for our trip to the mountains tomorrow.”

Brownlow has been working with the Associated Press, the Washington Post and the New York Times photojournalist departments to coordinate the photo shoot, scheduled for 12 noon Saturday, April 9, 2011 should the House and Senate fail to meet the midnight deadline.

Wayne and his game face

Brownlow reports his little girl Tabbithia is also bringing – at the advice of the AP – one of her stuffed animals to clutch when she stands at the barred gates. “My boy Wayne is also going to bring his little league catcher’s mitt, which he plans to stare blankly into while he sits on the curb at the park entrance. Me? I’ve been practicing my ‘sad yet disgusted’ face also.”

AP Senior VP of Marketing Violetta Robinson says the Brownlow family was chosen from a pool of over 300 candidate families, due to their exceptional way of projecting hurt and sorrow on cue.

“We in the media are going to be the ones with the sad faces if this shutdown doesn’t happen,” she says. “We have gone through a lot of trouble and expense to make this photo shoot happen. All the pieces are in place, except for the shutdown itself. We all have our fingers crossed.”

The Brownlows have a message as well: “Pray for a shutdown!”

UPDATE: Last-minute budget wrangling averted the shutdown, so the Brownlow family is heading back home, their faces bent in sadness and rejection and this time not getting paid for it.

PETA Protestor Devoured by Richmond Man in front of Carver Elementary

2011-04-06T17:17:00.000-04:00

Next on the menu: Didn't realize coloring books
were enslaved

“I didn’t Carver, I just ate ‘er!”

A Richmond musician identifying himself only as “Kuzzen Wyldweed” claimed he “had my fill” of a loudmouth PETA member protesting the Ringling Brothers Circus in front of Carver Elementary School, so he unhinged his jaws and ate her.

“She definitely started protesting meat-eating then, as my powerful jaws forced her scrawny, underweight body down my throat into my abdomen” said the barely satisfied local guitarist and songwriter as he popped an antacid and rolled a toothpick through his mouth, his torso bloated with the still-clawing, devoured protestor. “In fact she wouldn’t shut up until I finally choked down her whining, unwashed head. Remind me next time to eat them head-first.”

Kuzzen said the protestor was “a tad stringy and tough, but I’ve had worse at any Golden Corral.” He added that a little Sweet Baby Ray’s barbecue sauce would have gone a long ways in improving his impromptu sidewalk brunch, which was done unaided without any utensils, prompting Kuzzen to pun “I didn’t Carver, I just ate ‘er!”

Norfolk-based PETA was in Richmond in front of Carver Elementary protesting the circus’ alleged mistreatment of animals, handing out coloring books to children and telling them to stop eating meat or their parents will explode in their sleep. One protestor who called himself “Ellie the free-range soy-based Elephant” was dressed up in a costume obviously made by a blind person to focus attention on the three-ring performance, scheduled later in April at the Richmond Coliseum. His shouts for Kuzzen to let go of his fellow protestor went unheeded, even when he batted Kuzzen several times on the head with one of the rolled-up coloring books during the feeding frenzy.

“That dinosaur or elephant or whatever is next,” Kuzzen said, burping, licking his chops and looking around for round two as the protestors scrambled into their hybrid smartcars and locked the doors in a panic. “Because the thing about those protestors is you can eat one of them and an hour later you’re hungry again.”

But with all the protestors cowering inside their eco-friendly vehicles Kuzzen decided instead to go in search of a bathroom. “PETA gets in my stomach they’re coming out,” he said. “And they don’t care what direction they take. Jeez, I hope it’s outta the basement and not the attic.”

Doswell Blogger has Novel Published on Kindle; James River Writers “Unimpressed”

2011-04-03T23:00:00.000-04:00

Doswell Blogger Dale Brumfield figured he would finally get the attention of the exclusive Richmond-based James River Writers when his novel “Trapped Under the Pack-Ice” appeared on Kindle this weekend for only $2.99 per download.

Not the case.

“While we can appreciate Mr. Brumfield’s persistence in getting ‘published’, for want of a better word, we at the James River Writers hardly consider silly electronic publication worthy of our recognition,” stated JRW Development Coordinator Meg Medina, clutching a tiny coffee cup in one hand and waving a baguette with a bite taken out of it in the other. “The JRW is about the written word, not the electronic word, therefore we will continue our policy of embracing those writers who publish in the traditional sense, that is real books with real covers and real pages, and ignoring those writers who publish on those dreadful ereaders, or whatever they call them. Those horrid little boxes.”

“James River Writers builds community by connecting and inspiring writers and readers in central Virginia,” stated Medina. “And as long as Media General is our top benefactor and stays in the print business and out of electronic publishing we will continue this policy for obvious reasons.”

"We prefer writers who go through the traditional pain and suffering associated for so long with the print media," Medina continued, "We like writers who slave over a manuscript then get rejected by dozens of agents and dozens of publishers then get that one break. We prefer this as a business built on rejection, pessimism and negativity - the way novel publishing was meant to be."

Brumfield stated he was “disappointed but not really surprised” by the attitude taken by the exclusive writers’ organization, who sponsor events with such prominent traditional ~~hacks~~ authors such as David Baldacci and Eric Van Lustbader.

Brumfield’s "Trapped Under the Pack-Ice" is purportedly the daily journal of Commodore Craigmont T Amsterdam, First Secretary of the Royal Navy’s Polar Explorer Society and Mechanical Engineer in modest standing with the British Engineering Society, Who on September 1, 1835, launched from dockside on the spit joining Labrador and northern Quebec, on the east tip of Ungava Bay at Kilineck, at the mouth of the Hudson Strait in northern Canada, a single-man, self-propelled bathysphere of his own design and engineering in an attempt to find and secure the mythical north-west passage, from the Hudson Bay to the Behring Strait via the ice-locked waterways betwixt the islands and peninsulas above 77° north latitude.

In pursuit of an impossible task, and beset by faulty equipment, his own incompetence, isolation, brutal cold and exploding food, Commodore Amsterdam’s journey takes a bizarre turn when lonely madness and another life form deep beneath the crushing Arctic ice forces him to places he dare only dream.

The web page is Here. The eNovel can be ordered on Amazon.com Here. It’s only $2.99. Here’s what some of the critics say:

“The publisher has placed any information that can be possibly desired by the general reader in a very pleasing and arousing form, and this volume is at once fitting and satisfactory. Ah, it is like a relaxing bowel movement in that regard.”— Ed., Colburris New Monthly.

“ ‘Trapped Under the Pack-Ice’ will be welcomed by the public as affording information which, till its publication, was only obtainable by wading through ponderous journals of forgotten lore, and balancing the conflicting statements of the old narrators, a worthless exercise, forthwith.” —E. A. Poe, Richmond Inquirer.

“Will be eagerly enquired after, and, we should think, taken out in large numbers by the searching expeditions, to be conned over, if someone actually decides to search for the missing Commodore. I should shudder to find myself in his desolate situation.” — Sir John Franklin, Polar Explorer.

“Mr. B___’s peculiarly acceptable work is modestly executed, and displays a fleeting knowledge of his subject. The appearance of this work is most opportune - written in a clear and agreeable style, with not too many polysyllabic terms to tangle the tongue.” —Liverpool Mail.

SLAY THE DINOSAUR

2011-03-31T14:33:00.000-04:00

SLAY THE DINOSAUR (formerly WALK THE DINOSAUR)

by WAS (NOT WAS)

When released in Britain in 1987, “Walk the Dinosaur” reached #10 on the charts, becoming Was (Not Was)’s first Top 10 hit there. After the music video to the song received heavy rotation on MTV, the song reached #7 on the U.S. charts in 1989. The song was the biggest hit single for the band in Britain.

They have graciously agreed to re-release it in honor of VCU’s inclusion in the NCAA Final Four.

***

Smart Smart Shaka-laka-laka Smart
Smart Smart Shaka-laka Smart Smart
Smart Smart Shaka-laka-laka Smart
Smart Smart Shaka-laka Smart Smart

It was a night like this
Six nights ago
VCU Went final four
start to go.
Jayhawks were spitting fire
But the sky was black and gold
I felt excited so I watched the pyre.

VCU slayed a dinosaur
VCU slayed a dinosaur!

Open the door
get out on the floor
VCU Slayed the dinosaur.
Open the door
get out on the floor
VCU Slayed the dinosaur.
Open the door
get on the floor
everybody slayed the dinosaur.

Smart Smart Shaka-laka-laka Smart
Smart Smart Shaka-laka Smart Smart

we met you in San Antone-
you were talking trash
You said our run was done,
follow wherever you go.
But that night we killed a Jayhawk and danced beneath the stars.
You fell asleep
We stayed awake and blew your doors like passing cars.

We slayed a dinosaur
We slayed a dinosaur!

A shadow from the sky
much too big to be a bird
Screaming and
crashing nigh,
louder than I've ever heard.
It looked like two big tattooed twins
that only recently learned to cry

Suddenly a desperation airball and a final buzzer’s roar.

I killed a dinosaur
I killed a dinosaur!
Open the door
get on the floor
VCU Slayed the dinosaur.
Open the door
get on the floor
VCU Slayed the dinosaur.
Open the door
get on the floor
VCU Slayed the dinosaur.
Open the door
get on the floor
everybody killed the dinosaur!

Smart Smart Shaka-laka-laka Smart
Smart Smart Shaka-laka Smart Smart
Smart Smart Shaka-laka-laka Smart
Smart Smart Shaka-laka Smart Smart

DOSWELL EXPLODES IN RAM FEVER!

2011-03-27T22:58:00.001-04:00

Doswell native / VCU student takes to the street in Jubilant Celebration of VCU’s Victory over Kansas in NCAA Elite Eight Matchup!

Business major and Doswell native Trey Rounder (above) literally exploded in jubilation following neighbor VCU’s stunning upset victory over the heavily favored Kansas Jayhawks in this afternoon’s game.

The future Business major was “partying hardy” following the stunning upset after returning back to VCU after 24 hours on a bus back from an old high school girlfriend’s house who didn’t know he was coming.

Rounder reportedly “took to their streets” in festive celebration following the 71-61 victory after finally getting off the Greyhound and walking back to VCU from the Boulevard bus station saying things like “Woo-hoo” to others walking except for one raving lunatic that he had to run from.

Hearing about the game after disembarking and returning back to his dorm, Trey reportedly rode the elevators in his high-rise dorm up and down several times looking for parties before settling back in his room after purchasing some VCU Rams stickers and a Mountain Dew at the only bookstore still open on a Sunday evening following an NCAA upset.

“It looks pretty good” Trey said after placing one of the round Rams stickers on the back of his calculator.

Trey said he shouted “Go Rams” a couple more times out his dorm window, but since he was 17 floors up he doubts anyone heard him. He then realized he had an early class and that he left his wallet, Droid phone and statistics notebook on the bus that brought him back to VCU from Jacksonville Florida.

“I texted my girlfriend on Facebook about the game but she hasn’t responded yet, even though I can see she is online” Trey said, explaining that he surprised the girl – a long-time High School sweetheart named Alice – by showing up at her house Friday evening. “She was surprised to see me, but that I also disrupted her plans by showing up unannounced” he said, noting that her attitude toward him the 20 or so hours he was there was “cool at best”.

But the standoffish attitude of his girlfriend was no match for the excitement waiting for him on campus once he returned. “My roommate is gone so I have the room to myself, so if any of your readers want to party hard come to Rhoads Hall room 1791! But you have to be gone by 11, because my Poly Sci class is at 8 am and I haven’t slept since Saturday morning and I have to go on the Greyhound web site and file a missing article report.”

“Go Rams!”

Hoop and Change: Shaka Smart Declares VCU to ‘Shock and Awe’ Kansas in Man-Caused Kinetic Contingency Inside Alamodome

2011-03-26T18:48:00.002-04:00

VCU's Smart at briefing: "Days not weeks"

NCAA coalition has crumbled to only 8; VCU goal to drive Morris twins from power, we think

An NCAA coalition led by a Shaka Smart strategy intent on emerging victorious from the San Antonio Alamodome has dwindled to only 8 in their quest to drive the Kansas Jayhawks from their dominant position in the mid-eastern division, with VCU citing no humanitarian concerns in their quest to emerge victorious in the current man-made kinetic contingency against Kansas and their brutal leadership, headed by the Morris twins.

Virginia Commonwealth has created a sustainable “no-win zone” in the mid-east deserts of Texas, keeping Florida State most recently out of the paint with an astonishing display of time-limited full court sorties. Gaining a berth in the coalition after defeating FSU in a play-in, they are now in the Elite Eight for the first time in history.

Firing long bomb after long bomb from the hinterlands past the 3-point circle, and capitalizing on a couple of unfortunate miscues by FSUs Kitchen at the end of the skirmish and at the end of overtime they prevailed with a tomahawk at the buzzer.

Shock and awe

Morris-led Kansas is no pushover: It has steamrolled though the time-enforced, scope-limited eventuality with an average margin of victory of nearly 18 casualties per contest.

VCU’s Press Room stated that “We will continue to update the American people on the situation in San Antonio, including the actions VCU has taken with allies, fans and cheerleaders to drive the Jayhawks from the brutality of their leaders, the Morris twins; the transition to NCAA command and control, and their defensive policy going forward against them, including VCU’s enforcement of their no-win zone.”

Coach Smart told ESPN there are no plans to use former skater Tonya Harding to disable Kansas strongmen Marcus and Markieff Morris, according to sources familiar with a Franklin Street Situation Room briefing.

“There was a discussion of how we have other ways of real-time change,” a spokesman said. “It’s our role to prevail at this point from a kinetic point of view. It is VCU's goal for ultimate victory in the desert outside San Antonio, and I believe we’re going to see that victory from a kinetic point of view.”…

There may be no basement in the Alamodome, but there are loser's showers with Jayhawks on them. Go Rams!

Even the VCU Fine Arts Students “Excited” at School’s inclusion in NCAA Sweet 16

2011-03-24T10:32:00.002-04:00

Art School Celebration: Go Rams!

A small contingent of VCU Fine Arts students convened in an alley behind the Bowe Street studios yesterday to express their enthusiasm in their own inimitable way for the school basketball team’s successes in the NCAA tournament as the bus containing the team pulled out from the Siegel Center.

“I see this sporting event as a metaphor for the changing aspects of a certain microcosm of life,” explained sophomore fine arts major who identified herself as “Nemo”. “I intend to justify the team’s inclusion in this sweet 16 as they call it by performing an impromptu interpretive dance inside this dumpster.”

When asked why the celebratory dance had to be performed inside a dumpster, Nemo explained “Even though dance, like sporting events, can be beheld as objects of fierce beauty and athleticism, they too can be blunted by the suffocating rules and laws of society, whether they are the steel walls of a dumpster or the rules pertaining to sporting events.”

“I call this dance ‘Unseen but Heard”. She then climbed inside the green can and supposedly performed her dance, thumping and banging, in front of a small but admiring crowd of fellow poorly-dressed colleagues who seemed to appreciate her piece.

Nemo, before climbing in the dumpster

Anyway, some of the more cognizant art students swept up in the excitement also planned less cerebral celebratory works, sculptures and performances commemorating the historic exuberance of the moment. World-weary freshman Hunter Brumfield said he was marking the Ram’s success by riding around on a tricycle he found in an alley then drawing even faster than he usually does. “I draw fast anyway, so the fact that I’m drawing even faster is a testament to the pride I feel for VCU.”

“I forget – is it basketball or football?”

The senior boy-girl sculpture team known only as “Art for Heart’s sake” (or maybe the other way around) have joined their hands in a 2-person heart and plan to hold the position 24/7 until the team returns triumphantly back home. “Our hands symbolize the ‘not 1 but many’ solidarity utilized not just by us but by the team, which is participating in possibly the most widely-accepted form of improvised performance art in America today, that being the sport of basketball."

Art for Heart's Sake: Something to do with basketball

“College basketball is America’s kabuki Theatre”, stated sophomore Angela (no last name available), who claims to still be undecided in her art discipline. “Performed on a court instead of a stage in front of a paying audience; acting wordlessly in pursuit of a shared goal. It is performance of the most sublime, and I intend to document the moment in clay, popsicle sticks and foamcore as soon as I return from the place they call Main Art.”

March Madness: Insane Muammar Gaddafi Picks Himself, Yemen, Tunisia over Pro-Dem Insurgency in MEDM Tournament

2011-03-18T20:21:00.003-04:00

Gaddafi: "I picked Mubarak's Egypt earlier this
year and I got hurt."

That ball must have eyes on it!

Libyan President Col. Muammar el-Gaddafi took a break from violating a strongly-worded UN Security Council resolution to make his annual picks on who comes out on top of the current MEDM (Middle Eastern Democracy Movement) clashes.

Gaddafi picked all four top seeds (Yemen, Bahrain, Libya and Tunisia) to advance to the Final Four of the Middle Eastern tournament. He predicted that Saudi Arabia’s King Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz al-Saud would choke early in the tourney and not be a major player. “I’m not giving him a chance at redemption” stated Gaddafi.

Gaddafi, who has other things to deal with rather than putting a lot of thought into his ME tournament brackets, also is going the low-risk route in choosing the eventual runner-up – Tunisia’s two-time defending champion President Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, who has lost not one challenge since he took office in 1987.

The Colonel is picking King Hamad bin Isa al-Khalifa to handily prevail over the pro-democracy tribal Bahrainis in the final, which would give al-Khalifa a chance to avenge a one-point loss to Saudi Arabia’s King Abdullah in 1998. “I don't buy Shiaa vs. Sunni,” the Colonel stated as he circled his choices with chalk. “That's disorganized repressed masses vs. crack police states. No contest.”

“And Hamad has more firepower.”

Gaddafi does appear to have a good grasp of the personnel strengths of both sides in this region, though he pointed out on Libyan television that insurgent rebel Mamuar el-Fayza has really come on lately for the Libyan Pro-Dems, which he has reaching the “select few” before he is taken away by secret police. But the Colonel wisely isn’t over-thinking this region. “That young guy in the little country in the middle really knows how to squash protests,” Gaddafi said of Yemen’s star, President Ali Abdullah Saleh. “He likes to come out strong in the second half with tear gas and rocks. And his point men are surprisingly accurate with both.”

Gaddafi sees in Egypt what observers everywhere see: the weakest player in the tournament. As such, he has no surprises. “Mubarek took a bye early on and has since fled,” stated the Colonel as he sharpened his chalk. “He is no longer a player.”

This is the 42nd time Col. Gaddafi has made his MEDM picks. Click to see it bigger, but close it quickly if there is a knock at your door.

Hollywood-Style Film Studio Kicked out of Doswell

2011-03-13T21:20:00.000-04:00

“Cheesecake Smackdown” not the movie town fathers thought it was

The Hollywood-style film studio that had rented the single-purpose room of the Doswell Ruritan building has been given the boot, according to town father and resident funnyman Louis Leher, who supposedly caught a glimpse of a scene involving two actresses and a referee in a boxing ring.

“When a spokesman from the studio, some guy named Jack Link from Vivid Productions called me about renting the space for what he claimed was going to be an 'all-female drama with a focus on contact sports called “Cheesecake Smackdown”', I envisioned a movie like that Tom Hanks movie “A League of their own”, which was about an all-female baseball team,” claims Leher. “Boy was I wrong.”

Doswell welcomed the production company with open arms five days ago, when several panel trucks containing Hollywood-style lights and furniture and lots of personal toiletry items arrived at the Ruritan building. In fact, several patrons of the newly-opened bar across Route 1 came over to watch the rather large assembly of burly production hands unload and tote the items into the building, including several cases of baby oil.

The patrons really came to life when two limos containing what they presumed were the female boxers, wrestlers, referees and “water girls” arrived and the physically spectacular women teetered out of the limos in their 6-inch heels and handkerchief-size skirts.

“It’s a red letter day for Doswell,” claimed Teman Road resident Wallace Cornstein as he watched the women struggle out of the back seat of the limo and maintain some semblance of dignity in their teeny skirts. “I can’t wait to take my kids to see this at Virginia Center 20. Good Lord, what is that woman wearing?”

Popping in on the production yesterday to ask the filmmakers if they wanted to utilize the adjacent baseball field for the film, Leher was startled to find out the true nature of the production, then promptly ordered Mr. Link and all the female athletes out of the building.

“We went from a red-letter day to a red light district,” claims Leher. “This building used to be an elementary school, for crying out loud! We have Church services in here! That new-agey Pentecostal Church with that ventriloquist preacher who throws his voice in tongues is going to be appalled, and I’m sure I’ll hear about it from his dummy, Pastor Woodcock or whatever he calls him.”

Leher announced a professional cleaning service will arrive Tuesday to begin hosing out and disinfecting the single-purpose room and especially the restrooms.

“They had catering in here!” he shouted, “who eats food with those hands? I just threw up in my mouth just thinking about it!”

“I can assure you in the future any Hollywood-style film company that comes to Doswell will have to undergo a much more rigorous screening, I’ll tell you what.”

Wisconsin Democrat Introduces Legislation to make a State Holiday Commemorating the One Billionth Utterance of the Word “Shame” Inside the State Assembly

2011-03-10T23:46:00.000-05:00

“Democrat Day of Shame” would give union employees a day off

Madison - After police carried demonstrators out of the state Assembly Thursday, Assembly Minority Leader Peter Barca (D-Kenosha) entered the chamber and introduced a bill commemorating the one billionth utterance of the word “Shame” inside the State Assembly by teacher and state union members since the standoff over union bargaining began in mid-February.

The body voted 53-42 in favor of the proposal, sending the bill to the Republican governor after an epic month of struggle unlike anything in living memory in Wisconsin politics.

All Democrats voted for the bill and were joined by four Republicans - Dean Kaufert of Neenah, Lee Nerison of Westby, Travis Tranel of Cuba City and Richard Spanbauer of Oshkosh. All other Republicans and the body's lone independent, Bob Ziegelbauer of Manitowoc, voted against the commemoration.

After Democrats cut off debate a little more than five minutes after it started, pain-in-the-ass Filmmaker Michael Moore jumped up, or rather, he struggled to his feet under his brobdnagian bulk, to protest. He hauled a megaphone out from under his desk and through it yelled, "Mr. Speaker, I demand a bucket of potato salad."

He was ignored.

The crowd erupted again with chants of "Shame! Shame!" as Republicans filed out of the chamber.

In a statement delivered by a Domino’s driver looking for Michael Moore, the missing Democratic 14 hailed the vote from their hiding place in a Best Western in Berwyn, Illinois

"I applaud all members of the Assembly for showing up, debating the “Shame” legislation and participating in democracy while we hid here in Berwyn," the note said. "Their action will give union workers yet another paid day off as a reminder of the hard work and stick-to-itiveness they showed with their chanting and screaming. Moving forward we will continue to focus on ensuring Wisconsin has a business climate that allows the private sector to create 250,000 new paid holidays."

Walker spokesman Cullen Werwie said that the governor would sign the Democrat Shame bill "as soon as possible" but couldn't say when.

Just before the session, the Rev. Jesse Jackson asked for unity between Republicans and Democrats and a jump-start for his car - a brief bipartisan respite in a day of heated debate, chanting, hiding and demonstrations.

At the beginning of the Assembly session, Barca (D-Kenosha) called for the removal of a suspicious mole. Nearby in Madison Thursday morning, lawyers for Michael Moore filed a complaint with the Dane County district attorney's office alleging a legislative sub-committee violated his potato salad promise Wednesday when it assued delivery. Republicans deny that claim.

The Wisconsin Democrat Day of Shame is anticipated to be May 30 of every odd year.

Doswell Blogger’s Art Student Son has Officially Put on his “Everything Sucks” Glasses

2011-03-05T00:40:00.002-05:00

Cheerful kid-turned-cynical world-weary art student Hunter, in his
"hip" clothing. friend Rachel who also may be succumbing
to similar condition, appears with him.

Doswell blogger Dale Brumfield’s son Hunter, 2nd-semester freshman in VCU’s art department, has officially assumed the world weariness and glum mocking derision required by the VCU art program, lamenting the vapidity of American pop culture and droning on and on about the petty and bland insipidness of life in general.

“He used to not be like this” reports his Mother Susan as she carried a load of his laundry back to his dorm. “He used to wear such nice clothes and be cheerful all the time. Now he wears these clothes from a place called ‘Rumors’ or ‘Refuse’ or something that make him look like a homeless person, and anytime we try to initiate a conversation with him he becomes all self-righteous and negative, spouting off about how juvenile and uninspiring everything is, and how pedestrian and uncool my life is. What happened to my little Hunter Bunter?”

Hunter’s twin brother Jake, also a college freshman in Mass Communication who has yet to take on the slouching, mumbling posture assumed by his twin, verified the relentless negativity and cynicism projected by his Art student brother. “Um, yea, he pretty much thinks everything sucks,” he reports. “Although he still kind of likes David Fincher movies. Otherwise he thinks it’s all crap.”

Hunter in less cynical days

Brumfield says he is looking into whether the Art program at VCU spawns such passive/aggressive pessimism or if it is a gloomy natural byproduct of the system itself. “I think a study needs to be done by the university to see if naturally distrusting, high-and-mighty and sarcastic students are drawn to the program or if the program creates these shuffling, scorn-filled zombies, toting their foamcore and popsicle stick sculptures over to Bowe Street”, he says, over-analyzing like he usually does. “And OK, I get it, Maya Deren’s film Meshes in the Afternoon is a triumph of non-linear storytelling – but how much money did George Lucas make with Star Wars? Come on.”

Brumfield states that time will tell if Hunter succumbs to the disparagement of the system or is able to overcome it and emerge from his mocking cocoon-like cone of ridicule and distrust and become a productive member of society. “Somebody is going to have to pay to keep me in the Assisted Living facility some day,” Brumfield says, “and it ain’t gonna be me. I’m not sending them to college for their health.”