Out of Office

Due to circumstances of extreme secrecy and intrigue, I will be out of the office for an extended period of time. Since I have vowed not to fabricate any of these posts (which could easily be accomplished with a bottle of whiskey and a book of Mad Libs), this blog will be dark for a while.

Hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have sharing my pain. Hope to see you back in a few months.

The Taxman Cometh

BR: "O'Bahma sez he's gunna rahyze taxes on gasuleen bahy fifty cints a gallun as soon as he gits in office. 'Corse that won't affect the lower income people -- thay's on wellfare already 'n take the bus. If'n that tax goes thru, we'll all be on wellfare soon.

Them Dimocrats got a gud policy comin' up. Thay're gunna eat everyone."

Evidently with a side of oil and food stamps.

Celebrating in Style

BR: "Went to Red Lobstur last nahyte. Took mah muther thar cuz it wuz her birthday. They braut out a li'l cake with a candul to suprahyze her. She wuz lahyke, 'Huh?' She thaut thay wuz gunna do somethin' to her. Man, wuz she suprahyzed. But she lahyked that.

Excellint shrimp too. When thay say jumbo, thay wuz really big."

I took my mom to Red Lobster once. For Mother's Day. I was six.

Nothing Says "I Love You"...

... like a riding lawn mower:

BR: "Ah baut mah wahyfe that new John Deere -- she luvs it. She sez it's jus' lahyke drivin' a car. Got automatic transmisshun, 'lectric start, all them saftey feechurs, got eighteen 'er twinney-fahyve horsepower, Ah ain't shur. But she luvs it. Straps that wagun on the back 'n she's doin' the flower beds, mowin' the grass every other day."

She might also enjoy a camouflage jump suit and a 30.06. Or a case of whiskey.

The Ultimate Diet

BR: "Ah tell yew one thang, Ah need to pay more attinchun to the expuration dates on thangs. Ah made me a sanwich with Miruhkle Whip that had been expahyred fer over a year. Made me sicker'n a dog. Ah trahyed to throw up a cupple'a tahymes but couldn't. Spint mosta the nahyt sittin' on the commode. That's one heckuva weight loss program, though."

No Lube

BR: "Mah sun's wahyfe has this friend, 'n boy iz she stoopid. She had a pretty new car, at least she baut it new. Car wuzn't runnin' rahyt, so she took it to the dealer. It wuz still under warranty fer the first year. Car had sixtee-four thousind mahyles on it. Mechanik sez, 'So how many mahyles have yew put on it since yew last changed the oyl?' She sez, 'Wut do yew mean?' He sez, 'When wuz the last tahyme yew changed yer oyl?' She sez, 'It'z under warranty fer the first year -- Ah don' need to change the oyl, do Ah?' Heh. Sixtee-four thousind mahyles on the 'riginal oyl. 'N that's starter oyl. Sevin grand fer a new motor."

The Racist Church

BR: "Yew see O'Bahma's preecher finally got him into hot water? Turns out ole BR was rahyt. He sed thay should get ridda all the whayte people. Kin yew believe that? Anytime a church has a histery of helpin' only one kinda people, thay're a racist church."

To wit: All churches are racist. Awesome.

Bloom Where You're Planted

BR: "Ah know a wuman, sixtee-sevin years old 'n she's never been more than a hunnerd mahyles from her house. Sixtee-sevin years old. Kin yew believe that? Ah cain't.

She's got a sixtee-four Chevy truck, all beat up; got dents in it. She straightened 'em out herself. When yew look at it, it's all kindsa beat up, tahyres is slick 'n it's got over four hunnerd thousind mahyles on it. Baut it brand new in sixtee-four. Ah sez, 'When yew gunna get a new truck?' She sez, 'Ah don' need no new truck. This one starts every day. Ah ain't gunna bahy a new one 'til this one quits on me.'

It ain't lahyke thay cain't afford it. Her 'n her bruther got a eight-thousind acre ranch, got siventeen oil wells on it. Thay git lahyke thirtee K a munth in royalties, each. Thay got Ah don' know how many millyens in the bank 'n she won' bahy a new truck. She thinks she's gunna dahye 'n take all that with her. Shoot. Everybody knows yew cain't take it with you."

Read Between The Lines

BR: "Yew lissen to them commershuls fer Berack O'Bahma? Yew lissen to 'em real close? Most people don'. He's talkin' 'bout 'Mah Wahyte House.' Since when is is 'mah' wahyte house? It's the guvermint's wahyte house. It's the people's wayhte house. But that's his mentality. Ah'm gunna sind out an e-mail to all those people, sayin', 'Yew voted for 'im. Now yew gotta pay the prahyce."

The Breakfast of Champions

BR: "Mah wahyfe thinks Ah'm crazy cuz Ah'll eat tuhmahlees fer breakfist. Ah'll cook up a duzzin of 'em 'n go to town. She sez, 'How kin yew do that?' Ah sez, 'Open yer mouth 'n bahyte.' Ah eat bean 'n cheese tacos from that Mexikin place all the tahyme fer breakfist."

Two words: Febreeze WORKS.

The Folly of Youth

BR: "Thar tellin' all the Republicans to vote fer Hilery now 'n then vote for McCain in the genrul 'lection. That's wut Ah'm doin'. Mah friend sez, 'Thay'll have you on the rolls as a Dimocrat fer two years!' Ah sez, 'Who cares?' Ah jus' wanna make sure Osama bin Ladin don't win. Or Bahama, er whatever his name is. He sez he's gunna stop all the war in the Middul East. Wut people don' realize is that then we'll be fahytin' that war rahyt in the middul'a New York City. Thay'll come to 'Merica 'n bring their bombs with 'em.

Those stupid college studints don' know wut's goin' on. Thay think everyone's in Iraq 'n if'n we pull outta thar the war'll stop. Wut thay don' get is, them people's been fahytin' fer fifteen hunnerd years. Thay wanna convert everyone to the Muzlum rulijen. If'n yer a Christian, yer their enemy 'n thay'll kill ya soon as look atcha."

The Tribe Has Spoken

BR: "O'Bahma sez he's gunna change the Middul East. Ah'd lahyke to know how he's gunna do that. Prolly become a Muzlum 'gain. Who's that Muzlum big wig? Ah ferget his name, but he 'n his trahybe came out 'n indorsed O'Hahma [sic]. That gahy ain't never indorsed no one before. When thay asked him wye he indorsed O'Bahma, he didn't have an answer. Sumthin's fishy there.

All's Ah kin say is, Ah didn' vote fer him 'n Ah tole yew so."

No Crime, No Time

BR: "Mah vizhun is this: if yer illeegul 'n yew stay below the vizhun levul, thay ain't gunna come lookin' fer yew. But if yer gunna commit a crahyme, a' corse thay're gunna getcha! 'N thay shud!

But if yer an illegul 'n commit a crayhme, yew ain't subject to the same typa justis that a sitizen is. It's lahyke thay're tryin' to make illeeguls an eshelon 'bove people that're here leegully. It's diplomatik 'mmunity. But if yew don't commit no crahyme, yew ain't got nuthin' to worry 'bout."

Thank you Johnny Cochran.

If Wishes Were Horses...

...then I could ride the crack-addled pony that IS his thought process...

BR: "Looks lahyke ole Romney's callin' it quits. That makes it real easy. Yeah, it's gunna be McCain as presuhdint 'n Huckuhbee on as vahyce presuhdint. McCain didn' carry the south, so Huckuhbee's gunna git it fer him. That'll be a good ticket.

Ah sure hope they abolish the IRS. All thay gotta do is pass it 'n that'll be that. Save a buncha munney. Won' hafta give out them rebates to them people on welfare no more. Then we can give laptop computers to everyone that goes'da school. That'd be gud."

Yes, indeed. All they have to do is pass it. Get rid of those pesky taxes. Can't imagine anything the federal government might need money for...