Author: Dick

Ah, a damn fine cup o’ joe it is. Too bad it’ll kill you dead.

Coffee is good for you. Coffee is bad for you. Coffee will make you live long and love longer. Coffee will make you impotent. Jeez Louise I can’t keep up with all scientific claims about what coffee may or may not do to your health. The latest says a little too much coffee and your ticker’s toast.

This most recent study was on a group of people in Costa Rica where I would think they drink the macho stuff, not all that crap that makes your coffee taste like chocolate and cream married then decided to consummate the nuptials right there in your cup.

I don’t know. You can read the article. You can read the study if you want. I don’t pay any attention to those studies anyway (I say as I find myself drinking herb tea). I think maybe the last study that I took note of was the one that said eating pork and drinking whisky every day will keep you in shape (in the shape of a drunken pig perhaps). All I’m saying is you might want to skip that second cup of coffee. Have a pork chop and a shot of Wild Turkey instead.

I am working on Tuesday, which is primary election day in Texas. If you live in Texas here is a friendly reminder to vote. That is, I suppose, unless if you are planning to support either independent gubernatorial candidates Kinky Friedman or Carole Keeton Rylander Stayhorn-expialidocius. I don’t think they can get on the general election ballot in November without more than 45,000 signatures on a petition from those who HAVE NOT voted in either the Democratic or Republican primaries. So do what’s right. Whatever that is. The future is in your hands. You screw it up. You pay for it.

No matter how crappy the rest of this day might be, the morning had one particular bright spot. I found $10 on the ground while taking a walk a little while ago. It was just discarded, in no one’s yard, and Alexander Hamilton was staring up at me with those serious eyes saying: “Take me. Spend me.” Maybe I have Miss Cleo to thank. Although, if she predicted this event she didn’t let me in on it. Or maybe it was the prayer chain I returned to a friend. Most likely, it was my keen ability to spot paper money on the ground.

Wow! Still no word about Vivi the missing whippet show dog. Maybe her, its, escape at JFK Airport a couple of weeks ago is just an extended vacation for the show dog. I’m sure a show dog needs rest. See something different. Maybe it changed identities with some mutt and now is hanging somewhere in Jersey.

Psychics that have been called in and/or have volunteered to locate Vivi may have their strong feelings. But they’ve not yet produced anything. Maybe Miss Cleo can help. For a price. Don’t you think she would help? In a fake Jamaican accent. For a price?

I have no reason to disbelieve psychics. I’ve never been involved in any way with a psychic so I can’t say whether their psychic powers are real or are bulls**tsky. But I hear all of these psychics coming on these big cases — cases where people are missing or are presumed dead. I hear of them on high-profile cases like Jon Benet Ramsey or the recent missing Vivi, a case we’re all concerned about of course.

Just think about this a second. If psychics are really all they’re cracked up to be, then why don’t they help the regular person, the everyday schmuck? Why don’t they intervene when we’re going to have some a**hole on the freeway mess up our day? Why don’t they show up before we go to work and tell us to take the day off because otherwise our boss is going to ruin our day? Why don’t they tell us when we’re about to say something stupid to one of our friends that causes a dustup and causes a round of hurt feelings?

If their psychic powers are so great, then why don’t they put those powers to use with things that matter in everyday life. For you see, there is a lot better chance we’ll f**k up some way or have a day that is f**ked up than we’ll end up being kidnapped or even that we’ll be a show dog missing in New York City. I’d be happy to know what happened to the $5 bill I lost somewhere last summer. Miss Cleo, what’d I do with that five-spot? Huh? I’d buy you a … well, there isn’t much I could buy you with $5. Forget about it.

Dude! This pizza tastes just like condoms.

It seems as if the pizza guy just misspoke. Domino’s Pizza founder Thomas S. Monaghan said that strict Catholic principles will not have to abided by to live in the Florida town he is building. Monaghan — no doubt a crusty religious guy — had said earlier that the town he was building around Ave Maria University would be devoid of porno magazines, condoms and original sin. The American Civil Liberties Union threatened to sue the pepperoni off his pizza, although I don’t know if that was a factor in his backtracking.

I wonder if this means the Domino’s in Ava Maria will deliver porn and condoms with your pizza?