Happy Birthday!!

Today? August 19th?

Holy Cow, Bitches, this is the one day a year I take off and honor others rather than praise Sarah Palin…

So here we go…

Here’s to Bill Clinton who turns 64 today. My fave Prez of my lifetime. Bill RAWKED, and that’s all I have to say about that.

I wrote about this chick the other day, who out of the blue, contacted me. I was her friend, but she was personally “contracted” with another guy.

I never cared about that, I thought we were still friends after 30 years. Yeah, well, I guess we weren’t friends while she was attached which is sad, but...c'mon how's about some illict sex for godssakes!!

Nonetheless, I still dig her and wish her all the best. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Sherri…

Sherri and I have had sex in so many public places it’s incredible. Keep in mind, that was 25-30 years ago, so don’t think we’re still like that. But hell, bathrooms, tick infested beaches, sidewalks...we did it all.

Hell, anymore I never see her or hear from her unless she needs advice…Anyway, Happy Birthday Sherri!!

I still dig her…somewhat.

And now…the last Birthday.

Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Or more commonly known as, David, Schmoop’s brother.

David is a nut…No, literally…He’s fucking bat-shit crazy.

In fact, he’s like a woman.

His mood can change by the minute, but he has helped me and Schmoop out for years and still does, so how can I hate him?

I can’t.

In fact, I love the guy.

Anyway…Here’s to Bill Clinton and Sherri, but most of all, here’s to David.

In fact, I may hose Schmoop tonight and call her Sherri just to celebrate. On the other hand…

Schmoop may don a strap on, fuck me, and call me David. I know, that's icky, but.…

While they may be brother and sister, Schmoop and David are very close.

Very Close.

Cheers!!

Now Dig It: Virtual Cartoons

Hi All. David Here...Now Dig It…

Do you remember some 50 years ago? Okay…some 40 years ago, waking up to cartoons?

Okay, most of you young folk probably don’t, ‘cause you weren’t here yet…Anyway…

Two things…During the week, starting at 7 A.M. was Captain Kangaroo…you know, when he was still alive.

The Captain had his sidekick, Mr. Green Jeans, who smoked a bud or two and/or molested children. Of course, Ol' Cap'n also had Grandfather Clock.

Captain would ask Grandfather Clock, “What time is it Grandfather?”

The reply from the tired timepiece would be, “Look at your own damn watch, you fool.” Or something like that.

And of course there was Bunny Rabbit and Mr. Moose…they’re still alive ya know.

I mean, they're still alive if you don’t mind sticking your hand up their ass to get a charge out of them.

Of course, on Saturday mornings…

My brothers and I, would push my passed out dad off of the couch so we could watch the likes of Mighty Mouse, Heckle and Jeckle, Top Cat, and of course…Bugs!!

Sometimes, my oldest brother Rick would show up and make donuts out of Bisquick. Man…They were great.

Which is more than I can say about my brother Rick, the little bastard.

There was one cartoon that maybe you don’t remember and was called, Supercar. God, I loved it.

And, there was always the classic Rocky and Bullwinkle.

Back then, cartoons were cartoons, and we loved them.

If you were to tell kids today, “Get the fuck out of my hair and go watch cartoons.”, they would either tell you to go pound sand in your ass or they'd watch some unfunny, overproduced, piece of computer animated shit.

Ya know…Kids today, rely on a lot of fancy shit. For their amusement, they rely on a ton of hi-tech wizardry.

Do you remember Toto from the Wizard of Oz? Well, Toto is still alive.

He never went down that road with Dorothy. He was afraid of those hi-tech, fucking shoes. Wuff…Wuff…

And the best thing of all about Toto…He didn’t believe in no fucking Wizards.

Dig It,
Dave

Store Security...Report to the Soup Aisle at Once!!

Greetings from Schmoop and Dave.

This week, we’re combining his, Dig It, With David and my, Dispatches from my Ass segments.

I guess we’ll call it, Dig It From My Ass, David. Ha!!

We’re going to take you to the Grocery Store with us. Won’t this be a fun ride?

My brother Dave and I go to the grocery store (either Wal-Mart or Kroger’s) every two weeks or so, and we find all kinds of mischief to get into!

My brother is nice to everyone, believe it or not, and I just want to get OUT! He talks to the Wal-Mart greeter, while I grunt.

I’m just glad everyone at our neighborhood Kroger store knows us now. They used to think we were husband and wife.

Ewww! Hello! Not brother husband /sister wife. This is Ohio, not West “By God” Virginia.

As we go up and down the isles at either store, we have been known to yell at each other from three to six aisles over, asking where such and such is.

Dave smells every fucking thing in the place, and I do mean everything.

He shakes the cottage cheese (might not be enough whey you know), and chip containers, (a few might be broken) Oh the Humanity!!

He opens the frozen pot pie, and TV dinner boxes to see if they are in aluminum tins. I remind him every time, that they haven’t done that since the Carter administration.

No matter. I guess he has hope.

He wanders aimlessly…I, with purpose.

I cuss out people who stare at the soup cans for HOURS, while standing in the middle of the fucking aisle, and even when I say, “Excuse Me”, they look at me like I have five heads.

Ok, it’s in my head, but I give them really dirty looks, and sigh a lot. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it’s fucking soup!

I know…I know…you’re torn between Campbell’s or the Kroger brand, and trying to figure out what the fuck the word, “consommé” means has just rocked your pea brained world but please…

Buy it or don’t…But get the fuck out of my way!!

I can never get to the meat section, because someone is always STARING, and handling every fucking package.

It’s hamburger people…you know, minced cow?? It’s funny, because no one we see ever looks at produce that way. Just toss it into the cart! Idiots.

Of course, judging by the looks and smell of some of the burger gawkers and produce tossers, I don’t think any type of fruit or vegetable has passed their lips since the night that Ethel Merman guest starred on an episode of, The Love Boat.

We do have fun though. We make fun of people, look for stuff that we had in the 70’s, and I always, and I mean always, look for that elusive and ultimately never found, box of Frankenberry cereal.

Years ago, when Mom, and Dave’s dog Megan was still alive, Mom insisted she have Mighty Dog soft dog food. Fourteen cans mind you. Why fourteen? No clue.

We’d be standing in that isle picking out the food, and we’d simultaneously begin singing, 18 Wheels On A Big Rig, by Heywood Banks.

Nobody really stared until I said “let’s do PI!”

Oh, the adventures when Dave and I start out doing it all again this Thursday morning!! And, it will start out by both of us saying the following…

“I’m only getting what’s on the list.” Yeah baby, you keep thinking that. But…We’re a team dammit!!

And maybe, just maybe I’ll be the nice one this time, just for shits and giggles…

Nah!! Better yet, I’ll ride in the cart, Dave can push me, stop the cart in the middle of the aisle, and we’ll both stare at the soup!!

Zoves and Dig It,
Schmoop and Dave

Now Dig It: Roe v. Dave

Hi Kids. Dave here…Now dig it.

How many of you went on fishing trips with “your Dad”? Wow…I still have bad dreams about it.

My father thought he was Long John Silver. He would yell at us…

“Keep your eye on the bobber!!” “Don’t move!! Don’t talk!!” “Don’t breathe!!”

Gee Dad, I never knew that fish had such keen eyesight or hearing. Or could detect the slightest respiratory actions of a fucking 12 year old kid. What a fucking prick.

And then, on top of that, would come his famous line. “God Damn It!! What’s wrong with you kids?”

He would bring a small chest freezer along to store “all” of the fish that HE…er…we caught. Hell, the only fish that ended up in that freezer were from Mrs. Paul’s.

Nowadays, I have a new fishing partner. Yes, the Matt-Man. We don’t catch much, but just getting away from everything for a few hours is nice.

I say nothing, and he says nothing…except for when he screams, “Hey Dave, did you see that big motherfucker!?” So warm.

The only noise we hear is from the summer breeze and the flock of geese that honk and laugh their asses off at us, knowing we probably won’t catch anything.

And then to add insult to their mockery of us, they fly up and drop a few Canadian Goose sized milk duds on our heads. Bastards.

Now Matt, he will cast out only 10-12 feet. I, on the other hand will cast out 200-300 yards. I don’t give a fuck if the fish are only 10-12 feet from shore…I NEED DISTANCE, GOD DAMN IT!!

Ha…If Daddy could only hear me now!! But, well…at least Matt-Man never yells.

Sometimes, a couple of Matt-Man’s brothers hook up with us…which is a mixed blessing.

His brother Vince? He will bring only TWO worms and a gay little tripod to rest his pole upon. You know why?

Because he always has to get back home to clean out his fucking gutters!! “Hey Vince, try casting out over there.” And he will respond…

“Nope, gotta go; it might rain in the near future and there may be a leaf in my spouting!!”

Now Marty, is just plain fucked up. He’s obnoxious and loud in a good way. He will ask, “Where are the fish biting?”

I’ve seen Matt say, “Right where my bobber is.” Marty will throw his line in six inches from Matt-Man’s, and in seconds, reel in a fish.

And then…Marty will begin to laugh just like Ace Ventura, Pet Detective. What a freak.

We try to get Schmoop to go with us once in awhile, but it never has, and it never will happen. Because, well…She’d have to leave the house.

That’s too bad, because whether we catch anything or not, it’s nice to be out there next to the lake and feel the sun upon your face.

Of course….I could do without the duck shit on my noggin.

Dig It…
Dave

Love Stinks

If you were expecting “Dig It With David” today, sorry ‘bout your luck.

Two weeks into the job, and the motherfucker had to go on hiatus. Jeebus Christ, he’s such a Mary.

Anyhoo, I am filling in for Dave and I am pissed.

Yeah, that’s right…

In spite of my vow to be warm and caring all Summer, I am more pissed off than a guy who just chugged three 40 ounce bottles of King Cobra Malt Liquor.

And trust me, I know all too well, the experience of pissin’ all over my pants from drinking too much Snake in a Bottle.

Anyhoo…I announced my Matt-Man Summer of Love the other day, and let me tell you…

You guys blow!! You don’t want me to be nice and cuddly. What the fuck is wrong with you bastards?

Oh no, we want Matt-Man to be abrasive and irritating. How dare him want to love his fellow man and woman, you ask?

Yeah, whatever…Blow Me. Well, dig this, Bitches…

I am still gonna have the Summer of Love, but it’s going to be about nothing but sex. I am going to get laid and have free love all Summer.

But what about Schmoop, you ask? I will be courteous about it.

Just as John Edwards only started his affair when his wife, Elizabeth, was in remission from cancer…

I will only have sex with others when Schmoop is either pre-menstrual or actually ragging.

That should give me 5 20 days a month in which to hose all of you sexy babes. Pull down my pants and break out the Coppertone, it’s the Summer of Matt-Man!!

Okay with that announcement out of the way, I have a political diatribe to make.

There is a big furor (I love that word) going on over possibly bringing enemy MUSLIM combatants from Gitmo to prisons here in the States.

Big Fucking Deal…

Have you ever worked, been associated with, or done time in prison? I have.

Worked there, not done time in one, ya see...

I represented prison workers (doctors, nurses, psych assts., social workers, etc) for 5 years, when I worked for SEIU. I have been in every adult and youth correctional facility in Ohio.

Trust me…Closing Gitmo and shipping these fuckers here is no big deal. In fact, if you care about the terrorists, you would cry because they would probably be safer at Gitmo.

Most reps and Senators are crying crocodile tears saying, “My folks do not want terrorists in their backyard!! They don’t want them on American soil.”

Ha. Fuck that. Nice sound bite Senator…But you know not what you talk about. Those terrorists, if let loose into a general prison population would be killed quicker than a guy with a child molester tag on his rap.

So there you have it. I am having sex all summer, and terrorists should be in America prisons.

Is that a good enough nugget of knowledge to do away with my cuddly, “all love” attitude? If it’s not? Blow Me!!

Happy Memorial Day Weekend.

Cheers!!

Now Dig It: The Line Is Open But You Have Nothing To Say

And now, after a week's worth of Political Incorrectness, Matt-Man presents, David... and his theme song... for whatever reason...

Okay, he demanded a theme song. Is that such a big request!!?

Hey Kids…Dave Here, now dig it...

Remember when it use to be that a phone in Mom and Dad’s house used to be the following…

It was a black or perhaps, avocado, bank-safe rotary dial phone on the wall?

And, it was the only phone that you had access to? Remember that?

Damn right, it was a 12 inch by 4 inch, Al Gore “lock box” with a 4 foot cord that could withstand time, nuclear war, and several remakes of Rambo, type of phone.

They were built to last….

What the fuck is going on now!?

People have 2 to 3 phones in the house. A phone in the garage…and a phone in the car, and in their hand!!

And let me tell you about this…The CELL Phone.

I pull up to a traffic light, or the grocery store, or in my wildest dreams, in their coffin, and I can‘t tell who's talkin’ to who.…

I can walk up to a Micky D’s counter, and I don’t know if some chick ahead of me is saying, “Three Big Macs and a side of fries.” or “Did my Dad just die …and if so, what did he leave my uncaring ass?”

And then…Dig it…I’m sitting at a light and some Dickwad is jabbering on his phone when the green arrow lights up.

Can we all turn!? Of course not. Why?

Because Dickwad is jabbering on the phone with his wife, daughter, and/or mistress about how Johnny just went pee pee in the corner, and depending on his age and status, that is either good or bad.

Seriously…Who the fuck are you talking to that is soooo important?

Classroom? Do you now the answer?

Of course you don’t. You know why? Because you have the fucking phone shoved to your ear!!

In my classroom, YOU FAIL!!

Instead of an “F”, how about I give those who talk on their phones in inconvenient places a big ol’…

Shut the Fuck Up!!? You have nothing to say!!

I’m done for now…

Dig It,
Dave

Now Dig It: Obituaries and the Truth

As promised…

Yesterday I gave you Schmoop, and today, making his Bagwine Ruminations debut, Schmoop‘s brother…

David!!

And thus I give you, our new segment…

David Says: Now Dig It…

Hi all, David here. Now dig it, or don’t. I really don’t care. I mean, I’d like for you to read this, but if you don’t…

What the fuck, it’s Matthew’s blewwwwg, not mine.

So be it, he asked me to do this, and I love him (unlike my Curse of Eve sister, who just pretends to).

How do you feel about obituaries? I mean, obituaries as they appear in the newspaper…

I love to read them. I mean, as long as they’re not family members…well, for the most part.

For those of you who live in the Midwest, or in parts of the south, or in those spots of California where the sheep outnumber those who are fucking them, ever read an obituary about a farmer?

Holy Cow!! These bastards live longer than the dirt they’re tilling.

They sow beans, grow alfalfa, tat hay, whatever, for 50-75 years. And then? They kick the cow’s milk bucket. They go to that great barn in the sky.

Who shows up for their funeral? Nobody. You know why? Because they were a Son of a Bitch!!

I wish more people would do that. Not show up I mean, and more importantly, write a obituary that is truthful.

The way I look at it…If people truly loved and cared for a person, by all means, write something nice. But…

If the non-breathing, SOB was a prick, and who was a barnacle on the back of others, let me write it.

Something like this…

Bud Shitgig died on April 32, 2019. He was a snot nosed kid when he was young and a dirty bastard when he was older.

He ran around on his wife. He was never there for his children (who half of them by the way, were illegitimate) or his family. We’re so very glad you are gone, you dirty fuckin’ prick.

Take That, Mr. Shitgig.

Isn’t that how it should go? I thought so.

I want to thank Matthew for this time, and I hope to see you all next Friday. If not? Whatever.

I’ll still be around. You’ll be dead. And, I’ll write your frickin’ obit. Get over it.

Have a nice day…or die, I really don’t care. But if you could, leave a comment first, so I know that I made a difference.

Dig It,

David