Streaming Friday !!

It’s Stream of Consciousness Friiiiiiiiday, and it is frickin’ cold here in Bagwine, Ohio. Holy Moly it is about 7 degrees outside with a wind chill of -9 degrees. And yes Wendz, that’s Fahrenheit not Celsius. Brrrrrrrr that wind goes right through me like a Taco Bell Chalupa with extra onions. Booooo Yah, and ahead warp factor four Mr. Sulu.

TV Land is showing episodes of the original Star Trek series, and I love it. I only wish they had done a Christmas episode. I can here Captain Kirk saying to Dr. McCoy, “Bones, I’d like a “Tickle Me Klingon” for Christmas.” McCoy would of course respond, “Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not Santa Claus!!” I wish I could have a real working phaser. Man the people I would kill…Or at least stun for awhile.

A big glass of ice cold tomato juice sounds really good right now. I hate it when you order it in a restaurant and they serve you V-8. “But sir, it’s the same thing.” Riiiiight. That’s like saying a grape and a hemorrhoid are the same thing because they’re both reddish purple. Which would you rather ingest?…Thought so.

The Pretzledunt of the United States lit the National Christmas Tree last night. That may be his greatest accomplishment to date. Already in the first eight days of December, 33 U.S. soldiers have died in Iraq. Merry Effin Christmas, Dubya, enjoy Christmas with your family, because many won’t be. I loathe war.

Okay okay, upbeat Matty, get happy. Ha, I got it. I went to see my son in his K-6 school Christmas show last night. One particular number by the third grade class involved a song that was serious in nature. They were singing and doing choreography which struck me as somewhat familiar. The crowd was in respectful silence. About two minutes into the number I shattered the quiet as I burst out laughing, for I remembered why the movements looked so familiar. This group of nine year olds unbeknownst to them was replicating the same gentle moves of the Happy Hands Club from the movie “Napoleon Dynamite”…Flippin Sweet. The parents were not amused by my guffaw. Screw ‘em, it wasn’t my kid’s number.

Man, Christmas has generated some of the worst songs ever. I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. I’d like to do a follow-up to that called, “I Saw Daddy Stabbing Santa Claus.” Woo Hoo Woo Hoo. The phone is ringing. Now it’s not…now it is. What a fickle phone. Gooooomba and ride me hard Sally. I got a craving for braunschweiger. Lunatic friiiinge, I know you’re out there.

And Now, “In the Know With Haircare Joe”

Dear Haircare Joe,

If you were one of Santa’s reindeer what would your name be and would you possess any special powers, if so, why?

Just Curious,
Mary Christmas
Hilo, Hawaii

Ms X-mas,
Why don’t reindeer have poop buckets on their butts? Does Dave Matthews drive the sleigh with Santa? Is it a fascist scheme to shit on the free world? Back to your question; in my private circle, I am called Flava “J” because my essence leaves a cool refreshing taste in your mouth. I want to put the “X” back into your X-mas. In fact, let’s make it a XXX-mas, baby!! (I will bring the camera and you can bring the Olive Oil. No butter please, because of my arteries) My “power” is the gift of eating corn on the cob with my good tooth. A trait passed down by my father/cousin.

HO Fricking Ho,
Flava J

Haircare Joe runs a 300 acre poppy farm outside of Elkins, West Virginia. He is the father of six boys, eight girls, and the husband of three wives.

Folks, as always, enjoy the weekend. Spend it with someone you love, or at least someone who puts out. Se ya Monday…Cheers