What is a Policeman?
The great Paul Harvey defined what a Policeman is very well. In tribute to the fallen officers from New York I think it would be an excellent time to post his eloquent definition of a Policeman. People the world as we know it is changing, and not in a good way. It’s more dangerous now than it ever has been to be in law enforcement.(More on that in another post) so please take a minute to thank the men and women in blue. The following was written and narrated by Paul Harvey. He lost his own father when he was just 3 years old, a police officer, died in the line of duty.
What that really means is that they are exceptional, they are unusual, they are not commonplace. Buried under the froth is the fact: and the fact is, less than one-half of one percent of policemen misfit the uniform. And that is a better average than you would find among clergymen!
What is a policeman? He, of all men, is at once the most needed and the most wanted. A strangely nameless creature who is “sir” to his face and “pig” or worse to his back.
He must be such a diplomat that he can settle differences between individuals so that each will think he won.
But…If the policeman is neat, he is conceited; If he’s careless, he’s a bum. If he’s pleasant, he’s a flirt; If he’s not, he’s a grouch.
He must make instant decisions which would require months for a lawyer.
But…if he hurries, he’s careless; If he’s deliberate, he’s lazy. He must be first to an accident, infallible with a diagnosis. He must be able to start breathing, stop bleeding, tie splints and above all, be sure the victim goes home without a limp.
The police officer must know every gun, draw on the run, and hit where it doesn’t hurt. He must be able to whip two men twice his size and half his age without damaging his uniform and without being “brutal.” If you hit him…he’s a coward. If he hits you…he’s a bully.
The policeman, from a single human hair, must be able to describe the crime, the weapon, the criminal and tell you where the criminal is hiding. But…if he catches the criminal, he’s lucky; if he doesn’t, he is a dunce.
He runs files and writes reports until his eyes ache, to build a case against some felon who will get “dealed out” by a shameless shamus.
The policeman must be a minister, a social worker, a diplomat, a tough guy and a gentleman.
And of course, he’ll have to be a genius…for he will have to feed a family on a policeman’s salary.
Age of Maturity
Today is my birthday. Today is a day like any other day. I get up I get dressed, I do my usual routine. I don’t feel any different than I did 24 hours ago, only I am one day older. Those days added up to another year. My family sent me nice things, my wife did nice things for me (she always does nice things for me.) My kids weren’t much different. They greeted me at the door like they do every morning when I arrive home from 12 grueling hours on the ‘inside’, only today they sang Happy Birthday and hugged me a little tighter. But I have come to the reality that Birthdays are like every day. Each of them a blessing. So as you finish reading this, I thank you for being one of my followers, and not losing interest or faith in my rants. I thank you for spreading the word. Both the Good Word as well as the word about me and my crazed rants. As you finish reading this always remember. dance like no one is watching, scratch that. Be careful because someone might actually be watching and think you are going into convulsions and call for an ambulance. There will be more spewing coming soon. Life is taking a turn for the better as I write this. Seriously though. Life is not a guarantee. Beware the light at the end of the tunnel, it may be a train. I hope you enjoyed this little rant brought to you by well, me. Thanks again and come back real soon.
The Chicken Crosses the Road, A lesson in Philosophy
I am back once again.. I know I keep my fans in utter suspense. When will we be cursed with another of his most vile atrocities? Well wait no longer my minio- I mean fans. I have done it again….. Sort of. I am still dedicating most of my thoughts to my lovely family and to surviving the axe being wielded by the Governor of this Great State of Florida (aka my 9-5 employer) so in order to keep my dedicated fans at bay for just a little bit longer I give you, Yet another UN-original piece brought to you by Soopah Troopah productions..
This was actually courtesy of a good friend and soo thoroughly entertaining that I had to share it. Not Sure if it was an original idea on his part but as I said, still too funny not to share with my ‘adoring’ fans.
WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?
Plato: For the greater good.
Karl Marx: It was a historical inevitability.
Machiavelli: So that its subjects will view it with admiration, as a chicken which has the daring and courage to boldly cross the road, but also with fear, for whom among them has the strength to contend with such a paragon of avian virtue? In such a manner is the princely chicken’s dominion maintained.
Hippocrates: Because of an excess of light pink gooey stuff in its pancreas.
Jacques Derrida: Any number of contending discourses may be discovered within the act of the chicken crossing the road, and each interpretation is equally valid as the authorial intent can never be discerned, because structuralism is DEAD, DAMMIT, DEAD!
Thomas de Torquemada: Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I’ll find out.
Timothy Leary: Because that’s the only kind of trip the Establishment would let it take.
Douglas Adams: Forty-two.
Nietzsche: Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.
Oliver North: National Security was at stake.
B.F. Skinner: Because the external influences which had pervaded its sensorium from birth had caused it to develop in such a fashion that it would tend to cross roads, even while believing these actions to be of its own free will.
Carl Jung: The confluence of events in the cultural gestalt necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical juncture, and therefore synchronicitously brought such occurrences into being.
Jean-Paul Sartre: In order to act in good faith and be true to itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.
Ludwig Wittgenstein: The possibility of “crossing” was encoded into the objects “chicken” and “road”, and circumstances came into being which caused the actualization of this potential occurrence.
Albert Einstein: Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.
Aristotle: To actualize its potential.
Buddha: If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken-nature.
Howard Cosell: It may very well have been one of the most astonishing events to grace the annals of history. An historic, unprecedented avian biped with the temerity to attempt such an herculean achievement formerly relegated to homo sapien pedestrians is truly a remarkable occurrence.
Salvador Dali: The Fish.
Darwin: It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees.
Emily Dickinson: Because it could not stop for death.
Epicurus: For fun.
Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn’t cross the road; it transcended it.
Johann Friedrich von Goethe: The eternal hen-principle made it do it.
Ernest Hemingway: To die. In the rain.
Werner Heisenberg: We are not sure which side of the road the chicken was on, but it was moving very fast.
David Hume: Out of custom and habit.
Saddam Hussein: This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.
Jack Nicholson: ‘Cause it F–Kin wanted to. That’s the F–Kin reason.
Pyrrho the Skeptic: What road?
Ronald Reagan: I forget.
John Sununu: The Air Force was only too happy to provide the transportation, so quite understandably the chicken availed himself of the opportunity.
The Sphinx: You tell me.
Henry David Thoreau: To live deliberately … and suck all the marrow out of life.
Mark Twain: The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.
I hope you all enjoy.. And I am creeping ever closer to a conclusion of my latest writing project atrocity hopefully available soon. Stay tuned for more atrocities! Until next time Stay Safe, keep your head down and your aim high…
You might be a Correctional Officer If…
I know it’s been a long time. I am sure some of my fans have moved on to other blogs, because my blog just wasn’t giving them what they needed anymore, others have moved on after being offended somehow by any of my countless atrocities. However those of you who have stayed loyal, THANK YOU! As a sort of reward I will offer something that will once again allow you to ‘Flex the ‘ol Smile Muscles’ Anyway please enjoy. This latest ‘Soopah Atrocity’ brought to you by none other than, well ME…. A special thanks to Sam Cowley of the California Department of Corrections for the original list which I have altered ever so slightly. I know my few remaining fans are going ‘Seriously? , this guy takes another ‘Random’ Hiatus from entertaining us, his loyal followers and returns with something written by someone else? WOW.’ But please read on with my promise that there are plenty of ‘Original Soopah Atrocities’ in the pipeline, but for now sit back and enjoy! Especially my loyal followers who are cursed enough to actually have to work with me, and LEOs everywhere.
Now for the Top Signs you might be a Correctional Officer if…
You’ve ever told one of your kids to “drop me a kite” (or “dayroom recall”).
• You’ve ever thrown away a full can of soda because it was out of your sight for 30 seconds. (Or a sandwich, been there done that)
• You’ve ever wanted to physically assault your partner because they said, “It sure is quiet today.”
• You’ve ever looked a pool of blood like a Rorschach test “it looks like two ducks kissing!”
• The buzzer in a basketball game on TV makes you jump. (Or a ref’s whistle)
• You refer to the mall Santa as “Chester Claus.”
• You’ve ever fixed a plumbing problem with a side-handle baton. (It works!)
• You’ve ever looked at a stain on your pants and wondered if it was blood, feces, or taco sauce.
• You’ve ever been subpoenaed because of toilet paper. (Or by an inmate’s family because their son had a heart attack after trying to kill his cellmate).
• You’ve ever driven past a high school and thought, “Job security.”
• You know that, “I slipped in the shower”, “I fell off my bunk”, and “I got hit playing basketball” all mean the same thing: “I owed another inmate money and couldn’t pay, so I got tuned up.”
• You remember when “getting gassed” meant you had too much to drink.
• You’ve ever considered calling in sick when you saw there was a full moon.
• You can’t feel comfortable in a restaurant unless your chair faces the door.
• You play “Gang Graffiti Bingo” with your kids when driving on long trips “Ooohh, MS13 I just got my middle square!”
• You watch an inmate get Life-Flighted for a bloody hangnail, but the Governor claims that YOU are the reason there’s a budget crisis.( Sound like (p)Rick Scott anyone?)
• Before you can buy a woman a drink, you have to make sure she doesn’t have an Adams Apple.
• Your favorite coffee pot hasn’t been cleaned since Governor Reagan, and god help anyone who tries to wipe the crust off.
• You’ve ever seen a man with breasts and wearing “Daisy Duke” shorts beat the hell out of three guys at the same time. (His “name” was Gina).
• Your gunner is a “Fish”, your partner’s a “Dump Truck”, and your relief is a “Lop.”
• You can flip to the exact Folger Adams key from a group of five to six without looking.
• Your stomach sinks when a full chow hall suddenly goes dead quiet.
• You can actually read and understand an inmate’s illiterate attempt at written requests. “I need a bace for my wrisit.”
• You believe that “Gas’em till they puke!” is an appropriate Use of Force.
• You disbelieve 90 percent of what you hear and 75 percent of what you see.
• You never count on going home until have actually made it out of the prison.
• You believe that ALL PRISON MANAGEMENT should have fought an inmate at least once before evaluating if you have used appropriate force.
• You have ever wanted to hold a seminar entitled: “Suicide…getting it right the first time.” (or at least provide a pamphlet at Orientation)
• You have ever seen an inmate hanging by their neck and thought, “Damn! Now I have to do paperwork.”
• You know preferred overtime is from 2nd to 3rd, 3rd to 1st is ugly, but 1st to 2nd is torture.
• You know that “S.O.S.” really means “Stuck On Stupid!”
• You still get a weird feeling in your gut when you walk into a prison. ( and the ‘Click’ of the gates locking behind you make you tense up just a little bit more)
• You recognize that anyone who is willing to stick anything up his ass to hide it is one DANGEROUS S.O.B.
• You translate “Hey! Hey CO! Check this out!” to mean “Listen very closely while I attempt lie to you.”
• You can discuss where you are going to eat with your partner while standing over a dead body.
• You are the only person introduced at social gatherings by profession.
• You know the value of a good pair of boots.
• You know that color-coding something was designed to make it “Guard Proof.”
• People shout, “Don’t drop the soap!” when they find out you work in a prison and think they’re being hugely funny and original.
• A week’s worth of laundry consists of five T-shirts, five pairs of socks, and five pairs of underwear. (And one jumpsuit).
• You’ve ever referred to Tuesday as “my weekend”, or “this is my Friday.”
• You’ve ever written off guns and ammunition as a business deduction.
• You get gassed and pray it was just water or coffee, but don’t know until the aroma hits.
• You have forgotten to eat your lunch because you were too busy.
• You feel good when you hear “these handcuffs are too tight.”
See I told you you would get a chuckle. Now get back to work! Tune in next time for another Literary Atrocity brought to you by, ME. I hope you enjoyed this Literary Atrocity. If you did, tell a friend. If you didn’t tell 3 (because they’ll likely want to read themselves to see if it really is as bad as you said. ) Until next time I am 10-7
Stay safe and remember to laugh a little bit every once in a while.
Lions and Tigers and…… Squirrels?
I am back in the game again… After a short bout of ‘Writer’s Block’ I’m back with a vengeance, look out world, I’m back in the saddle again. There are Plenty more atrocities forthcoming, many of which offer my often unsolicited and always uncensored opinions on a lot of the horrors going on around the world, more specifically right here in our own back yard, but first I wanted to make you laugh, give my fans a much needed ‘Smile workout.’
I got this story in an email from my wife who got it from a friend who got it from a friend etc, I don’t know the original author (as is normal with most of the chain, fwd, etc. Type emails.) and I am not sure how much of it is based in fact but nonetheless I had to share it because I laughed so hard I… Well let’s just say I laughed really freakin hard. Anyhow, on with the show.. I hope you enjoy this little story as much as I did!!!! Especially all my friends and fans who are current or former LEOs. Enjoy.
EVIL SQUIRREL
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect.
I was on Brice Street – a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile suddenly shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.
It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it — it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me.
I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes.
His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leaped!
I am sure the scream was squirrel for “Bonzai !” or maybe “Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!” The leap was nothing short of spectacular…
He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack.
Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity.
As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans, this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel.
And losing …
I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil little rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there.
It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all.
His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result.
Torque.
This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very good at it.
The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement.
The squirrel screamed in anger.
The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy.
I screamed in … well … I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maye 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back.
The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike.
This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle … my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me.
As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Valkyrie Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand … I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked … sort of.
Spectacularly sort of … so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams.
They weren’t mine…
I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to ‘fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really … Except for two things.
First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody’s front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver’s seat was standing in the street, aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to “let the professionals handle it” anyway.
That was one thing. The other?
Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. AND NOW HE HAS A PATROL CAR. A somewhat shredded patrol car … but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.
Signing Off!!!
BOLO!!! (Be On the Look Out for the lay-person)
SOOPAH OPINIONS on Life or something like it are coming soon! In the mean time I hope you had a good laugh.
STOP THE PRESSES! Call In Sick World Scheduled To End Tomorrow!!!
Here it is.. I figured that its been a LONG time coming. So I wanna give my fans one last Original Piece for their Amusement, Entertainment, whatever.. But I figured it needs to be relevant too. So here we go. This retard, Harold Camping says “You must repent!! The world is ending!!! The second coming is nigh!, It’s all over fade to black May 21,2011., but listen I need you all to send me money to help spread the word so that everyone can be saved. Then the mass stupidity begins.. (Sorry to any of my fans, No wait if you were stupid enough to send this Jack-Wagon your hard earned cash I don’t need you as a fan.) I digress, the sad reality of society is that Millions of People sent this idiot Millions of $$$>> WTF? So May 21st came and went and well what do you know? Although, the world is steadily going down the tubes it didn’t end, in fact its no where near Armageddon. So all these people where pretty pissed, they got hosed, some of them sent this moron their ENTIRE LIFE SAVINGS thinking they wouldn’t need it considering the world was ending who would be around to collect on their debts, right? So since the world didn’t end this dude had to do some REALLY fast talking to avoid some redneck with no money, no job, and a WHOLE lot of time to realize that his life is truly in the crapper because he believed this dude and burnt out every ‘bridge’ in his life, but now has to face the music. So the Charming Mr. Camping says “Whoops! I transposed some numbers. The world is actually going to end on Friday October 21st, 2011!’ Amazingly people are still sending this idiot $$ the funny thing is that this is the THIRD time he predicted the end of days. So there you go People are STUPID.. Thats my take on it. Stupidity apparently contagious. I wish all of you luck and um yeah well, I’m going to work tomorrow and the day after etc. Because you see, I have a novel to finish, and yes I am that diluted to think that the end of the world will wait for my book to at least get published and see a release. PS>> Keep you eyes and ears open, I plan on starting a serial on my Fiction Blog here on WP ‘Everything but Reality.” I think I have finally broken through my ‘block’>>> We shall see. They way things seem to be going with our wonderful Governor King (p)Rick Scott I could very likely have LOTS of free time come the first of the year. I hope not, but on the bright side it will give me lots of time to focus on my ‘Joonyah Troops’ and work on finally finishing the book and going to press. Of course if the world does end tomorrow it was nice knowing ya’ll and I’ll see ya when we all get upstairs!
Until next time!! SOOPAH TROOPAH is OUT!!!!
Soopah Ants and Grasshoppers
I know its been like forever since I’ve bothered to post anything. I apologize to all my fans for depriving you of my literary atrocities that you can help but want to read. Well you might be a little disappointed when you realize that this one is NOT an original attrocity, but one of the few emails that tend to get passed through more hands than a joint at a Willie Nelson Concert. (Yes, I went there. Of course because I wasn’t afraid to go there is why you are my fans.) Ok. So enough of the sappy stuff. Let’s get down to business. This is the story of the Ant and The Grasshopper. First it relates an abbreviated version of the ORIGINAL story with a solid moral. Then it tells an updated version of the story that fits the moral bankruptcy of today’s society. Before we go any further if you read this story and are some how offended than perhaps you should find a new blog to read. I just share my view points and express my opinions, I don’t set out specifically to offend ANYONE, but if some feelings get hurt by my opinions so be it. I probably won’t lose any sleep over it. In short if you get offended by what I write then kindly follow another blogger, perhaps one who writes about the mundane life of one of their gazillions of cats… Any way you get the point.. And thanks to name removed to protect the unsuspecting and innocent. (you know who you are though.) for sending me this email.. And on with the show. Side note.. I added some of my own personal thoughts in italics throughout both versions.
The ANT
AND THE
GRASSHOPPER
This one is a little different …..
Two Different Versions ….
Two Different Morals
OL D VERSION
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long,
building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.
The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool
and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.
Come winter, the ant is warm
and well fed.
The grasshopper has no food or shelter,
so he dies out in the cold.
MORAL OF THE OLD STORY:
Be responsible for yourself!
and Hard work pays off!!!
MODERN VERSION
The ant works hard in the withering heat and the rain all summer long,
building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.
The grasshopper thinks the ant
is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.
Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and
demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well
fed while he is cold and starving.
CBS, NBC, PBS, CNN, and ABC show up
to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper
next to a video of the ant in his comfortable
home with a table filled with food.
America is stunned by the sharp contrast.
How can this be, that in a country of such wealth,
this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?
Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah
with the grasshopper and everybody cries when
they sing, ‘It’s Not EasyBeing Green…’ seriously!?!? Isn’t it like a law of Nature that Frogs EAT Grasshoppers? Anyway on with the story.
ACORN stages a demonstration in front of the ant’s
house where the news stations film the SEIU group
singing, We shall overcome.
Then Rev. Jeremiah Wright has the group kneel down
to pray for the grasshopper’s sake, while he damns the ants.
President Obama condemns the ant and blames
President Bush 43, President Bush 41, President Reagan,
Christopher Columbus, and the Pope
for the grasshopper’s plight.
Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview
with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back
of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike
on the ant to make him pay his fair share. You mean like they (Dingy Harry and Nacy) got rich off the backs of hardworking law abiding citizens like us?
Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity &
Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the
beginning of the summer.
The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number
of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive
taxes, his home is confiscated by the Government Green Czar
and given to the grasshopper.
The story ends as we see the grasshopper and his
free-loading friends finishing up the last bits of the
ant’s food while the government house he is in,
which, as you recall, just happens to be the ant’s old house,
crumbles around them because the grasshopper doesn’t maintain it.
The ant has disappeared in the snow, never to be seen again.
The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident,
and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang
of spiders who terrorize the ramshackle, once prosperous
and peaceful, neighborhood.
The entire Nation collapses bringing
the rest of the free world with it.
MORAL OF THE STORY:
Be careful how you vote in 2012. Does anyone besides me Miss good ol DUBYA now?
Vote Michelle Bachman 2012!!
The END! Thanks for reading. This has been another literary atrocity brought to you by SOOPAH TROOPAH productions! Stay tuned for more outrageous and obnoxious rants, gripes and politically incorrect opinions!
Soopah Recycled Humor
Ever since I’ve had an email address I would get ‘Those’ emails from friends and family, you know what I am talking about.. The ones that are forwarded from around the world, most of which are the lame and oh so timeless, chain letters.. Email has done wonders for the chain letter, now any jackass (who’s probably bored out of their skull at some dead end job decided that to fulfill their day a little bit on company time.) wants to start a chain letter can do so by simply sitting down in front of any computer, the likes of which are very readily available at most places of employment, can crank out a few keystrokes and away we go.. They don’t even have to buy stamps anymore! Of course there is the occasional bit of humor. Some of that humor is the, laugh till you cry, and eventually even wet your pants funny. Those ones I have always tried to share. These types of posts used to by known in the Ghetto (Read: My old MySpace Blog) as Soopah Plagirisms, but since its my new ‘Professional’ Blog I had to come up with a new name.. So I will simply refer to them as ‘Recycled’ humor. Any how I hope you enjoy this fine example of my Soopah Plagirisms from back in the days of the GHETTO! A warning and a side note before we continue, WARNING! There is some graphic language contained here in. If you are easily offended by foul language then STOP NOW, don’t read any further..In fact you may want to find another Blog to follow because while not profanity laced I do drop an occasional F-Bomb and other such words.. Side note; As I eluded to earlier, this a one of my original MySpace blog entries, for those who actually still hang out in that Ghetto known as MySpace will realize that the Blog posted below is copied from my original MySpace blog. THANKS and enjoy
January 19, 2008
This one is Definitely not original but damn it was funny enough it brought tears to my eyes. So I had to share… Thanks Sis for the laugh it came at a time when I really could use it. 
Don’t know who the original author was (as is usually the case with this stuff)….. But it’s still damn funny. So get cozy and enjoy another installment of Soopah’s psuedo plagarism.
There is something seriously fucking wrong with you, boy.
Who taught you that things go stale, anyway? You can’t believe everything you hear.
Your mother was lying. Cookies just get extra dry and crispy. Don’t be such a pussy.
I’m guessing that “pussy” must be a cue for you to stomp your feet more. Excellent.
Would you please put an end to this nonsense?
Holy God, your eyes look like you’ve been on a three day bender.
People are beginning to point.
I strongly urge you to gather yourself. At the very least, you might want to grab a tissue and wipe the gigantic ropes of snot that are wildly flailing from your nose. You look like a fucking Star Wars character.
Wow. I cannot believe that you just did that.
That was completely uncalled for.
I will only tell you this once. Look at me when I’m talking to you.
If your Dale Earnhardt “Intimidator” cap happens to come into contact with the Wal-Martfloor once more, I will sell your bike to that crazy fucking neighbor kid for a dollar fifty. Disrespect Dale and you disrespect yourself.
He drove a race car really fast. That counts for something in my book.
Hold on, my phone’s buzzing. Quiet down for a sec…or just keep screaming and crying.
Ah, yes…I thought this message might come in.
Santa Claus just sent me a text message and said that he’s not going to bring you shit if you don’t knock it the fuck off. He also said that he will cut Rudolph with a butterfly knife if you don’t blow your goddamn nose.
Fine, don’t believe me.
Just take a couple deep breaths. You can do it. I think the cashier is calling the cops.
Get a grip.
Hey. You know what I read in the paper the other day?
I heard that every time you cry, a kitten explodes.
Isn’t that fucking terrible?
You should really stop crying.
Picture the little guy. He’d be horsing around; playing with a ball of yarn. Every once in a while, he’d rub his face against the carpet and meow. Then he’d explode. Blood and guts would be all over the fucking place, all because you refused to refrain from melting down like a fucking crazy person.
I guess that you must really be into killing kittens, you sick fuck.
Take your hand off the Earnhardt cap, son.
I told you. This doesn’t involve Dale. Don’t bring him into this any more than you already have.
You should really be pooling all of your energy into stopping all of that goddamn water that’s shooting out of your eyes. You look like a fucking fool.
The greeter guy working the door at the entrance, the one with a single leg and an eye patch, is looking at me like he feels sorry for ME. Unfucking real.
I should seriously discipline you in some way right now, but screaming children is one of the many things that make Wal-Mart shopping totally awesome.
So…we about done yet? I didn’t think so.
I’ll be getting some shut-eye out in the parking lot. Wobble your fucking ass out to the car when you get tired.
Countdown to the Tournament
I am a card player. I love to play poker. I would never claim to be a Card Shark, maybe a minnow. Things have come together for me to take the first step to becoming a ‘Professional’ poker player. My current job (which I love) has afforded me the time off I need to begin this endeavor (it’s only 2 days as of right now.) and my Dad has been generous enough to ‘buy me in’ to this first step, a World Series of Poker satelite event. Look for more Blogs in this category as I endeavor to become a Professional Poker player. I don’t know where this endeavor will take me but you can follow me right here, and of course, on FB and Twitter. This is my first REAL tournament. ( I have played in somel small time local level non-sponsored cash games and tournaments.) The tournament is roughly 5 days away. I will spend the next 5 days getting into a ‘tournament mindset.’ I am writing this blog for a few reasons. Mostly just to chronicle the life an ‘amatuer’ poker player in his journey to a Professional. Another reason is in the hopes that one of my Poker idols like Phil Hellmuth or Daniel Negreanu see my blog and offer input and insight into what it takes to become a pro.
For those who are wondering about my book, my photography and my flash-fiction, its still here, and the book is still coming along slow and steady.
Poker has always been one of if not my favorite activities.
I hope all of my fans enjoy following me as I take on this new endeavor.
Welcome to a SOOPAH 2010
Well 2010 has gotten off to a great start for yours truly. I am up to SIX loyal fans now. Thanks to my lovely wife, my Mom and, Dad, My Sis,my kids and, oh yeah you too Ann. We almost have enough for a whole Troop!
Weather wise 2010 has gotten off to a chilly start. Especially here in FL. So I have one really important question before we dive in. Is it just me or do you not get the sudden urge to reach up and give someone a SOOPAH kick in the teeth when they whine about ‘Global Warming’? Ok. I’m glad it wasn’t just me. I was starting to feel like Helen Keller trying to find her way out of a door-knob factory.
Anyway I am just laying out a plan for 2010 for all six of my loyal fans. It’s sort of my ‘to do’ list for 2010. It doesn’t cover everything, if I did that then no one would be surprised by some of my stuff, and what fun would that be. You guys read me for the shock value, right? But it gives you a general idea of what to expect in 2010
If you haven’t noticed I have a second WP blog now. Don’t worry this one isn’t going anywhere. The other one “Everything but Reality” covers just that. All of my Flash Fiction will be found there. It also allows me an opportunity to introduce the Characters of my book. It also allows my fans to comment on them, whether they hate ’em , love ’em whatever the case may be. As of the Original posting of this entry the only thing on the ‘Everything but Reality’ side is the ‘About Me’ section, feel free to check it out.
Speaking of books I hope to get mine out sometime this year. I have decided to take the ‘Self Publishing’ option with it. So I will officially be an ‘indie’ author. I also plan on seeing where my photography takes me. Look for lots more of it in 2010. All in all I plan to make 2010 a SOOPAH year! I hope all of you have a SOOPAH year as well.
The Crowley Files 