Wall Street In Arrears

After the Wall Street Journal ran the headline, "Art Market Searches for a Bottom," the Venerable Grouch offered this classic and advised: "Look no further."

Latest Joke We Stole

He: You say we can’t afford beer and here you are spending $50 on make-up.
She: I just wanted to make myself pretty for you.
He: That’s what the beer was for.

Time To Be Terrified (Again)

Fat Bastard writes: "Let’s see, just when everything seemed to be going pretty well in my world (aside from the fact that my 401K has tanked, I’ve been fired and my in-laws are visiting for the weekend), comes news that I have to be afraid of a new strain of Mexican swine flu, or something, that is allegedly due to cross the border, probably via Tijuana, and head up my way pronto...then kill me. Having already been terrified by killer bees, the Y2K fiasco, terrorists' suitcase nukes, bird flu, WMDs, Sean Hannity and countless other scares that never materialized, I am going to sit this one out. Besides, I’ve already ordered a few pounds of pickled pork sausage from Nuevo Laredo for the in-laws."

Richard The Turd

Sayeth the Venerable Grouch: The latest braindeath, er, brainwave of Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley -- marking Shakespeare's 445th birthday (April 23) by proclaiming 'Talk Like Shakespeare Day’—has caused much hilarity around the globe. ‘Prithee’ ‘silken dalliance’ and the myriad other keys to a higher culture so obviously sit ill with such a relentlessly self-centered political machine. It was not always so. In “The Oregon Trail,” Francis Parkman, almost too ill to sit on his failing horse in a trek across endless burning plains to an unknown destination, when boiled dog was a banquet, records how one day, when he raised himself painfully into the saddle, the thought that occurred to him was “Et haec etiam fortasse meminisse juvabit.”

(Ed: As most of our astute readers--both of you--will know, that's Latin for "Perhaps it may please you hereafter to recall these trials.")

The San Francisco Treat

For over a year now Fat Bastard has had this kind of creepy, semi-stalker thing going on with Kimberly Guilfoyle, the ex-wife of the San Francisco mayor (Gavin somebody) who just announced he wants to run for governor of California. Says the Fat Man: "Before her ex tells us where he stands on such important matters as gay marriage and bathrooms for the transgendered, can he simply explain why he divorced this babe of all babes? Enquiring minds demand an answer!"
(Ed: What is he, insane?)

McCain's Daughter is Like, You Know, Awesome

The Old Hack notes: I apologize for thinking that Meghan McCain was yet another know-nothing blond bimbo riding to riches on her daddy's coattails. (Ed: Like Cindy?) Turns out she is savvy enough to know that Karl Rove is creepy: "Karl Rove follows me on Twitter. That’s creepy. I joined Twitter a few months ago; so far, it has been a liberating way to transition from political to personal blogging. It’s allowed me to share the less-serious aspects and humorously uncensored moments of my life. But there’s also been a downside: I am now being followed by Karl Rove, and my local sheriff, and God knows how many other political pundits. We need to take Twitter back from the creepy people."

(Ed: Karl Rove creepy? Who knew?)

Aaaaaaargh!

The Good News:

MOGADISHU, Somalia (AP) — At home in central Somalia, Abdiwali Abdiqadir Muse frequented a dusty, outdoor cinema after school, watched Bollywood films dubbed into his native Somali and, his mother says, "was wise beyond his years." Now Muse — the sole surviving Somali pirate from the hostage-taking of an American ship captain — is a world away in New York City to face what are believed to be the first piracy charges in the United States in more than a century. He smiled but said nothing Tuesday as he was led into a federal building under heavy guard.

The Bad News:

Madonna is going to adopt him.

He Doesn't Look Well

--LONDON, AP: "Stephen Hawking, the British mathematician and physicist famed for his work on black holes, was rushed to a hospital Monday and was seriously ill, Cambridge University said. Hawking has been fighting a chest infection for several weeks and was being treated at Addenbrooke's Hospital in Cambridge, the university city northeast of London, the university said. "Professor Hawking is very ill," said Gregory Hayman, the university's head of communications. "He is undergoing tests. He has been unwell for a couple of weeks."

Made Us Laugh

Suddenly Susan

Our advice to Worldwide Singing Sensation Susan Boyle: Don't change, we love you just the way you are!

Newspaupers in the Middle Ages

The Venerable Grouch read recently that a thousand years ago (when he was very young), there were three main classes in most of Europe. The potentes were on top and the impotentes at the bottom. In the middle were the bureaucrats, the mediocres. Does anything change? he wondered. But where did the fourth estate fit in? Reading on he found the answer. There was a fourth class: the pauperes.

Who ARE These People?

Fat Bastard notes: "I was at Wal-Mart buying a last-minute birthday card for another of my in-laws I don't really care about ($3.75 plus postage for this dork!) and I wondered how I got into this ever-widening gyre of family/guilt/distaste. Oh yeah, it was part of the "civilizing" process I went through after I got hitched. This guy confirms I am not alone:

"Ignoring my family of origin was one of the great perks of my single days. I had a couple of years of peace in between leaving home and getting married. When, for whatever reason, I wanted to see or speak to my relatives, I did so. And when I didn't (which was most of the time), I didn't...When I first met my wife, she had pretty much the same relationship with her own family. And that worked out just great. And then we got married. Somehow, after we were married, my wife decided that if I wasn't in contact with my parents or siblings, it was a reflection on her. And so I had to let that annoying bunch back into my life..."

We Hate Ourselves For Posting This

So, we were watching the son of Gloria Vanderbilt (Doesn't she look great or what for a 190-year-old? Think she had any work done?) on CNN and he interrupted Cat in the Hat (Gergen) with the line, "It's hard to talk while you're teabagging." So we knew it was time (and we apologize in advance) to mainstream this:
"Teabagging is a slang term for the act of a man placing his scrotum in the mouth or on or around the face (including the top of the head) of another person, often in a repeated in-and-out motion. The practice vaguely resembles dipping a tea bag into a cup of tea. Teabagging is also an erotic activity used within the context of BDSM and male dominance, with a dominant man teabagging his submissive partner, either a woman or a man, as one variation of facesitting and/or as a means of inflicting erotic humiliation. "
(Ed: Shouldn't "facesitting" be hyphenated? I checked both "Strunk and White" and the OED but neither helped.)

Porn Again

One of our favorite porn actresses, Marilyn Chambers, is no longer with us. This Old Grouch can reveal, although the LA coroner has instituted a gag order on the cause of her death, it was most likely due to a stroke.
(Ed: A sad story. We were all pulling for her.)

Made Us Laugh

"Another Fine Mess..."

The Venerable Grouch writes: Do you remember when Larry Summers was fired as president of Harvard after he suggested that differences between the sexes might – might – be a reason why fewer women than men have successful careers in math and science? Nancy Hopkins, a biology professor at MIT said that, if she hadn’t left the room, she would either have "blacked out or thrown up.” I’ve often pictured this delicate creature, and others like her at the top levels of academia, having to hang all day over the edge of their toilet bowls, just remembering this loathsome hypothesis. But now I feel sure Nancy goes whistling blithely to work knowing that, as President Obama’s chief economic adviser, the dragon is harmlessly employed running the national deficit up to $9 trillion

Stress Management

If you've had a rough day, here's a stress management technique that really works. Just take a few seconds and focus on each step...
1. Picture yourself near a stream.
2. Birds are softly chirping in the cool mountain air.
3. No one but you knows your secret place.
4. You are in total seclusion from the hectic place called "The World."
5. The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.
6. The water is crystal clear.
7. You can easily make out the face of the person you're holding underwater.
8. See, you're smiling already

(Ed: We forget who we stole this from.)

Turn Me On And Let There Be Light

We realize that the posting of this will send us straight to Hell after we die (without a chance at Purgatory) but this being Easter and with phrases of "Christ is risen" in the air, we could not resist.

Unjolly Rogers

This Old Grouch is thrilled to report that not only has our blog been returned to us after being commandeered by the Somali pirates but the said pirates have been dispatched by the Navy Seals they so wantonly made fun of in the post below. We can also reveal that the Navy Seals decided to act after perusing This Old Grouch and reading how they were being taunted by the pirates. (We've also been advised: In lieu of flowers please send donations to "Pirates Are Us" c/o this website.)

Arrrrrrrgh!

Another Message From the Pirates
Hey, all you rough, tough Navy Seals, the ones with the cool knives strapped to your legs and the mean looks on your camouflaged faces…We’re over here! Come and get us!….
Sorry, blog readers, but we were just taking time out to taunt the Seals. Pirates love that! We bet you are wondering why they haven’t blown us out of the water yet. Same reason they haven’t found the 6’3 inch bearded guy in that cave that most of us have already found on Google Earth. What are you waiting for Seals, another Surge? Want us to call your General Petraeus for you? In the meantime, please send us two million in small notes and a dozen cheeseburgers and you can have your captain--and some of your dignity--back.

Less Than Half Full

Think you've made a killing in Wall Street's recent run-up? Don't count your chickens too fast, warns The Venerable Grouch: "Stock market watchers are smiling now the Dow has recovered 20 something percent since it fell 50 percent from its peak. But grouches remember the lesson of fifth-grade math – it’s probably what made them grouches -- to regain its original level, a drop of 50 percent requires a rise of 100 percent."

Made Us Laugh

This Just In...

Announcement From The Pirates
As of now, we have taken over this blog. Before we return it to its rightful owners, we have several demands:
1. No more pirate jokes. Especially ones like, “What kind of socks do pirates wear? ARRRRRGyles.” Not funny.
2. Send us a full team of Women’s Beach Volleyball players. We prefer the Brazil babes to those lighter-skinned Nordic types.
3. Parrots.
4. Get us the hell out of Somalia. Can you imagine having millions of dollars of ransom money and having to live in a hovel in Mogadishu? We’re thinking: condo in Boca.
5. Okay, there's one pirate joke we like: "What did the pirate say to the blonde? Prepare to be boarded."

Can't Get Enough

The Old Hack notes: Had a few hours to spare last week and re-read War and Peace and Ulysses (for the third time). Also Aeropagitica and Remembrance Of Things Past. God, who doesn’t love the classics? Apparently, most of us lying literary sacks of shit: “Lying and cheating are not normally admirable traits, but I'd make an exception in the case of literature. A survey of 1,342 people…suggested that two thirds of us lie in saying that we've read books that we haven't… Chief among the books we never read but pretend to have read, are Orwell's 1984, War and Peace, the Bible, Joyce's Ulysses and Madame Bovary”

One Word: Kneepads

Roller Derby is back. Why did it ever disappear? It was literate, intellectual and was formulated on the perfect dialectic of greed versus productivity, divided by kneepads. Hegel wrote about it. Wittgenstein was a fan. As was Levi-Strauss. So, we have no idea why it faded away. But as this roller-derby babe illustrates, how can anyone not go for a sport that stars ultra-aggressive gals in kneepads?

"Positively My Final Offer"

Expect President Obama’s negotiations with the mullahs over nuclear weapons to become intense. “Iranians have been selling carpets for a long time,” the Venerable Grouch points out, “and now they are facing the world’s largest car salesman.”

That's Not Funny, That's Sick

(Ed: Can't wait for the Broadway musical!)

Made Us Laugh

Saddam
Hussein's
Cat

It's The Nut Cutlet

A television crew came into the Venerable Grouch’s hospice yesterday, seeking the secret of growing old gracefully. They passed by his cot with averted faces to greet a white-haired gentleman dozing in the corner. “Excuse me, sir,” the producer said “Can we ask how you manage to look so well?” “Sexual activity,” he replied unhesitatingly.
‘Quick, bring the camera,” the producer hissed. “Tell us about it, sir.” “Well, the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is to have a quickie with the early shift nurse,” he said, in his thin, reedy voice. “Then it’s rusks dipped in skimmed milk for breakfast to get up my strength for a tumble with one of the social workers who look after me. Lunch on nut cutlet and then a rather vigorous bout with the lady who changes my bedpan, a little nap, some gentle foreplay with the matron and, to set myself up for a good night’s sleep, a visit or two from the night nurses.” “That’s absolutely amazing,” the producer was heard to say. “Wait till the editor of This Old Grouch hears about this. And how old are you, sir?” “Twenty-seven.”

Canadian Club, On The Rocks

Ah, Spring! It's that time of the year again. Trees bud, snow disappears and up north club-wielding hunters bash out the brains of baby seals. The Old Hack has seen the seal hunt up close and while it may be bloody, he supports it. "Ever spend any time in a slaughter house to see where your Quarter Pounders come from?" he wonders. "The only real difference on the ice is that there are no walls but lots of TV cameras. And Brigitte Bardot." We realize this is not the forum to debate the topic but it is the place to offer our favorite baby seal joke:

"This baby seal walks into a club..."

Made Us Laugh

(Ed: Can't beat those military-issue vaginas.)

Trouble, Big Time

According to the Savvy Grouch: "We are in trouble.The population of this country is 300 million.160 million are retired. That leaves 140 million to do the work. There are 85 million in school. Which leaves 55 million to do the work. Of this there are 35 million employed by the federal government. Leaving 15 million to do the work. 2.8 million are in the armed forces preoccupied with killing Osama Bin-Laden. Which leaves 12.2 million to do the work. Take from that total the 10.8 million people who work for state and city Governments. And that leaves 1.4 million to do the work. At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals. Leaving 1,212,000 to do the work. Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons.

That leaves just two people to do the work. You and me. And there you are, Sitting on your ass, At your computer, reading jokes. Nice. Real nice. "

The French: They Have Always Been There When They Needed Us

After learning that French President Sarkozy said of the G-20 Summit: "As things stand at the moment, these projects do not suit France or Germany," the Old Hack is bemused to see that France is again marching in lockstep with Germany: "I understand he's threatening to walk out. If he does will he please leave his wife behind?"

(Ed: Apropos of this, we are offering a pic of his wife's behind.)

Made Us Laugh

Fat Bastard Fired?

White House Asks Fat Bastard to Step Aside
Fat Bastard, whose resignation was confirmed by This Old Grouch on Monday, explained his departure by saying he had been urged to “step aside” by Obama administration officials, “and so I have. This Old Grouch is a great company with a storied history,” Fat Bastard said, in an e-mail message made public by the website. “Ignore the doubters because I know it is also a company with a great future.” In an address on the future of useless websites Monday morning, President Obama said the request for Fat Bastard's resignation was “not meant as a condemnation” of him. “Rather, it’s a recognition that it will take a new vision and new direction to create the This Old Grouch of the future,” Mr. Obama said.
(Ed: Not a "condemnation?" Then why'd he fire his fat ass? Now what do I with a closet full of Hostess Twinkies, Ho Hos and Ring Dings?)

Yet Another Idiot

Is this a great country, or what? Where else do former disc jockeys transform themselves into political pundits? The latest in this long line of under-educated rabble rousers, Glenn Beck, was remarkably candid about himself recently. But we are sure it won't be long before he takes himself too seriously to admit: “I’m a rodeo clown,” he said in an interview, adding with a coy smile, “It takes great skill.” He added later: “I say on the air all time, ‘if you take what I say as gospel, you’re an idiot.’ ”

(Ed: Somewhere in Montana a rodeo clown just shot himself.)

"Eating Her Turds Away"

The Venerable Grouch has always implicitly believed a story told by his friend Dr. Grouch that, when a famous author was autographing copies of his book in Australia and a woman brought a copy to him, saying “Emma Chisit,” he duly wrote on the flyleaf “To Emma Chisit, Best wishes.” “Nah,” she protested. “Ah much is it?” Only this week, decades after the Venerable first began telling this story as if it happened to him, he read in James Morris’ “Farewell the Trumpets” that there is a whole hoary class of jokes on this theme, including Australian versions of numerous nursery rhymes. His favorite: Lilmi Smarfitt.

Aside From Hot Soccer Moms, Soccer Sucks

We here at the This Old Grouch Anti-Sports Desk always wondered about soccer. How good can a game that prohibits players from using their hands and arms be? And it's foreign, boring and girls play it! We could go on and on but this guy already did:

"Soccer is running America into the ground, and there is very little anyone can do about it. Social critics have long observed that we live in a therapeutic society that treats young people as if they can do no wrong. Every kid is a winner, and nobody is ever left behind, no matter how many times they watch the ball going the other way. Whether the dumbing down of America or soccer came first is hard to say, but soccer is clearly an important means by which American energy, drive, and competitiveness is being undermined to the point of no return. What other game, to put it bluntly, is so boring to watch?" (cont.)

Reasons We Like Old Movies

1. Seeing a movie trailer in which an over-excited announcer says, "Frederick March!...As you've never seen him before!"
2. The "I tell you" moments: Characters in 1930-ish movies saying, "I won't, I tell you. I won't!
3. Crowds at baseball games in hats and ties.

4. We are easily pleased.

(Ed: Obviously.)

Department of Corrections

Q:How long does it take a man to fall in love?
A: Apparently less than 10 seconds, according to a report in the journal Archives of Sexual Behavior. Scientists claim it takes men just 8.2 seconds to fall head over heels.

--Fox News, 3/25/09

(Ed: Fall in love? Surely they meant "make love.")

Latest Joke We Stole

A couple is married for 50 years and the wife dies. At the funeral, the pallbearers swing the coffin, which hits a wall. From inside the coffin, the woman yells, "Oh, my God!" She lived another four years. She dies again. The pallbearers are swinging the coffin. The husband yells, "Watch out for the wall!"

Complete Fabrications Inc.?

"The best way to bring our deficit down in the long run is ... with a budget that leads to broad economic growth by moving from an era of borrow and spend to one where we save and invest," President Obama said at his recent news conference. With the words ‘trillion dollar deficits’ now familiar in even the rudest shack in the remotest hamlet, the Venerable Grouch confidently predicts the rehabilitation of those other famous slogans of Orwell’s Ministry of Truth: WAR IS PEACE, SLAVERY IS FREEDOM, IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

Cock And Balls Are Shrinking

We read this stuff so you don't have to:

"The number of people in Britain with surnames like Cockshott, Balls, Death and Shufflebottom -- likely the source of schoolroom laughter -- has declined by up to 75 per cent in the last century. A study found the number of people with the name Cock shrank to 785 last year from 3,211 in 1881, those called Balls fell to 1,299 from 2,904...People named Smellie decreased by 70 per cent, Dafts by 51 per cent, Gotobeds by 42 per cent, Shufflebottoms by 40 per cent, and Cockshotts by 34 per cent..."

(Ed: Knew a kid in school named Rusty Cock. Better than "Dusty" I guess. His brother was Randy. So was his sister.)

I'm A Narcissist And So Am I

If the "Me" generation wasn't enough of a tip off, narcissists are in full bloom. (Ed: nice one!) Everyone, it seems, is a narcissist. Excluding us. But including you. And this explains most of the deep shit into which we've sunk. As this piece notes: "The narcissists did it. Some commentators are fingering them as the culprits of the financial meltdown. A Bloomberg columnist blamed the conceited for our financial troubles in a piece titled "Harvard Narcissists With MBAs Killed Wall Street." A Wall Street Journal op-ed on California's economy suggested that Gov. Schwarzenegger's desire for voter's love ("It's classic narcissism") helped cause the state's budget debacle. A forthcoming book, The Narcissism Epidemic, says we went on a national binge of I-deserve-it consumption that's now resulting in our economic purging. This is the cultural moment of the narcissist..." Case closed: The I's have it.

Beware Babes Bearing Burqas

Religion. Ain't it grand? Hot on the heels of the Pope's latest commandment forbidding Africans from using rubbers, comes this missive from the mad mullahs of Saudia Arabia who cannot bear the sight of an un-burqaed female (goats, camels excluded): "Hardline Saudi clerics have called on the government to ban women from appearing on television and to prohibit their images in print media, which they called a sign of growing "deviant thought."... the 35 Islamic clerics also condemned the increase of music and dancing on television, as well as images of women in popular newspapers and magazines that they labelled "obscene...There should be no Saudi woman on television, in any case," they said. "There is no doubt that this is religiously impermissible."
No doubt, that is, according to their direct line to their imaginary man in the sky.

(Not So) Great Expectations

The slump in retail sales, like all adversity, uncovers what people are really thinking. Recently the Venerable Grouch needed a bottle of one of the medications that are holding his ancient carcass together. Each bottle lasts two months. Then he saw a five-for-two sale online and splurged. “Wow,” his wife exclaimed, when the fivesome arrived. “It’s a lifetime’s supply.”

Postcard From Tehran

Exclusive: This Old Grouch has intercepted an email from Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to Pope Benedict XVI:

Hey, Benny, caught you on Al Jazeera last week telling several billion Africans not to use rubbers. Nice one! I notice you didn't advise them to use the rhythm method. Another great joke opportunity down the drain. Hey, speaking of jokes, what's with that hat you're always wearing on your away games? Looks like an egret landed on your head. I'd stick with the little white beanie. Works for me.
Any plans to come here in the not-too-distant future? We could stage an acid-throwing or gang rape in your honor. KIDDING! Love to have you. And bring the Pope-mobile—the one with the bells that sound like an ice cream truck. The mad mullahs get a kick out of that! Gotta run; I'm late for a mid-afternoon fatwa and stoning at the Tehran Middle School for Wayward Virgins.

Ciao,

Mahmoud

Unlike People, Cliches Never Die

The Old Hack tells us he never had much time for ridiculous press conventions like "the family curse" that is again rearing its shopworn head at the death of Natasha Richardson. He sent us this excerpt from the NYT that manages to both reject the curse idea and offer food for thought: "The freakish nature of Ms. Richardson’s death has already inspired ghoulish tabloid commentary on the curses that seem to descend upon famous families in showbiz or politics. It’s absurd, of course. Not to get all Beckett on you, but life itself is a cursed thing, fated to end before all promise is fulfilled."

"We're Number One!"

As our more astute readers (both of them) may have noticed, This Old Grouch has no sports desk. We like to think this lack of interest in competitions involving balls, clubs, rackets, mallets, etc. reflects our status as more highly-evolved creatures than your average face-painting, tribal-loving football fan. Naturally, we were delighted to read we are not alone:

"Marx was wrong: The opiate of the masses isn't religion, but spectator sports. What else explains the astounding fact that millions of seemingly intelligent human beings feel that the athletic exertions of total strangers are somehow consequential for themselves? The real question we should be asking during the madness surrounding this month's collegiate basketball championship season is not who will win, but why anyone cares..." (cont.)

(Ed: What about women's beach volleyball?)

Dollar Bills

Can't get your head around the trillion dollars figures that are being thrown about in our nation's capitol? Either can the Venerable Grouch, who notes, "Remember Senator Everett Dirksen’s budget warning? 'A billion here, a billion there, pretty soon it adds up to real money.' Not any more. "