In solidarity with my brothers and sisters of the Writers Guild of America, I will cease posting to my blog until a fair contract is negotiated.
To my faithful readers, I apologize. I know it will be strange not having Artie Lange's musings to read everyday, but I must take a stand.
I'm sure that scab, Pistols at Dawn, will cross the line and continue his low-brow hackery. Go there if you must.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Meow!
I told Max the cat that he needs to wait a few minutes before eating because his daddy has to post something to his blog. Poor little guy. He doesn't know how to tell time. The way he now lies on the kitchen floor, lethargic and despondent, I think he thinks I told him he'd never eat again.
Cats can't tell time and that sucks, but they can put their head on a pretty girl's lap and she won't call the cops or her big brother who is headlining an Ulitimate Fighting Championship card at Caesars this weekend.
I'd give up time telling skills for the feline superpower of unquestioned cuddling, but I don't always get my way.
And neither will Max. I'm going to bed now; he can eat tomorrow--maybe.
Note: No animals were hurt during the writing of this post. Though there are unconfirmed reports that Steakbellie chokes his chicken while reading Thurman Munson's bother. PETA is investigating.
Cats can't tell time and that sucks, but they can put their head on a pretty girl's lap and she won't call the cops or her big brother who is headlining an Ulitimate Fighting Championship card at Caesars this weekend.
I'd give up time telling skills for the feline superpower of unquestioned cuddling, but I don't always get my way.
And neither will Max. I'm going to bed now; he can eat tomorrow--maybe.
Note: No animals were hurt during the writing of this post. Though there are unconfirmed reports that Steakbellie chokes his chicken while reading Thurman Munson's bother. PETA is investigating.
A case for polygamy
I'd like to have several wives. Not for the sex, mind you. I can barely handle Mrs. Lange. I just want a set of spouses so they can talk with each other.
Artie isn't very good at the active listening thing, and I really don't like Grey's Anatomy, but feel I must watch it so me and da' missus have something to talk about Friday morning.
Give me a gaggle of girlies and they can meet each other's emotional needs.
Artie Lange just wants to be left alone. I want to watch TV, sleep on the couch, eat two pounds of pasta and finish my meal off with a pint of Vermonty Python ice cream. I'd like to stop bathing, stop shaving, and stop-up my neighbor's toilet.
Can't a guy soil himself without being judged?
Artie isn't very good at the active listening thing, and I really don't like Grey's Anatomy, but feel I must watch it so me and da' missus have something to talk about Friday morning.
Give me a gaggle of girlies and they can meet each other's emotional needs.
Artie Lange just wants to be left alone. I want to watch TV, sleep on the couch, eat two pounds of pasta and finish my meal off with a pint of Vermonty Python ice cream. I'd like to stop bathing, stop shaving, and stop-up my neighbor's toilet.
Can't a guy soil himself without being judged?
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Even blogs go into repeats: In response to Bert Banana's great post
To properly celebrate Woman's History Month, I will write about ex-girlfriends and other women I have encountered. All names have been changed to protect the subjects. I write these not from a misogynistic viewpoint, but from a place of sincere appreciation. I would not trade my experiences, my relationships, for all the graft in Tom DeLay's overseas bank accounts.
Come on, what's really under there?
I met Sally Slingblade on my first night at college. She was part of a group of clueless freshman looking for a party. I was doing the same with another group. When we arrived together at the ZBT house at GSC, people were spilling out of the doorways and windows. I saw two Haitian boat people walk away in disgust complaining that the party was too crowded.
Sally was scared and didn't want to go to the party. I could sense that. It was her first night of independence, her first night away from the security and predictability of Boonville, Cumberland County. I was a couple years removed from high school, having served in the Navy. Neither alcohol, not paddle spanking frat boys interested me. I wanted to meet girls and Sally was now caught in the cross hairs of my libido.
Moving this story along, we smooched that night, and quite a few nights afterwards. We never went all the way, but heavy petting and youthful grinding filled up our dance card whenever we met. She would send me perfumed letters talking about her love for me and desire to watch the sun rise over duckshit pond. I would share the notes with my roommate Matt and we would laugh and giggle at what a proper response would be. I never did write back. I am from the mafia-school of correspondence. Never in writing. Never on the phone.
Sally's dependence on me grew. She would stakeout my classes and wait for me at my dorm. I had known her for about two weeks by this time. We were neither exclusive, nor did I fill her ears with false promises. I was a jerk to her, for sure--just look at this post--but not a jerk in the way one would assume.
One day, while searching for the keys to my suite door, Matt darted through the door.
"Sally is in the room,” he stammered. “She's been there for four hours and won't leave until she sees you!" Recognizing that I was cozy with a stalker, I did what any brave, formerly military, rippling muscles, trained killer would do. I hid in Bluto's room.
Sally saw me sneak into his room and pounded on the door with Waco/Branch Davinian-force. Bluto made an excuse and said I wasn't there. She demanded to search the 15' x 15' box and Bluto denied her request. "Do I know you?" he asked rhetorically. Funny thing is, Bluto didn’t know me. This was our introduction to each other. We would fast become friends.
Sally stomped back to my dorm room, cursing all the way. Realizing that both Matt and now Bluto were victims, I managed to muster the courage to confront Sally.
“Get out! Go away! I don’t want to see you again! You are crazy!” I tried to be delicate but firm.
She did leave, and our contact became less frequent. She called me a week later to tell me she was transferring because I broke her heart (cool, I’m a heart breaker!). My friends once stopped her outside my building; she was crazed and demanding to see me. (I was in the stairwell window, mooning my pals). And, the coup de grace, upon hearing I was seeing someone else, she summoned me downstairs to talk.
“What do you want Sally?” I disinterestingly asked.
“I know you want to kiss me,” she purred, her finger making coy little circles on my belly.
Is she freaking serious? “Is this a dream?” I asked myself.
Using the acting skills I perfected convincing my mother I was sick 14 times senior year, I played the role of the weakened male; unable to refuse the sexual advances of this little minky.
“ I do,” I hurriedly panted, pressing my lips to her lips, my hips to her hips. I kissed her slowly and deeply. She moaned.
Suddenly, I pulled away and ran.
“I hate the power you have over me, Sally. I must never see you again.”
Into my dorm I went, shared the story with my friends and became a folk hero to the moronic. Really, we are all folk heroes to someone; we just need to find what makes us interesting to others.
What is interesting about Sally is that in all the time we spent together, including naked interludes in her roommate-free dorm, she never took off her socks. Never.
I became convinced she possessed an extra toe and thusly gave her the nickname “Six-Toed Sally.”
She eventually got a boyfriend and I became invisible. She seemed pretty happy, which is good. I mean, just because I’m not the one for you, and you are definitely not the one for me, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy.
Congratulations Six-Toed Sally. You are the first story in ArtieLange’s celebration of Women’s History Month!
Come on, what's really under there?
I met Sally Slingblade on my first night at college. She was part of a group of clueless freshman looking for a party. I was doing the same with another group. When we arrived together at the ZBT house at GSC, people were spilling out of the doorways and windows. I saw two Haitian boat people walk away in disgust complaining that the party was too crowded.
Sally was scared and didn't want to go to the party. I could sense that. It was her first night of independence, her first night away from the security and predictability of Boonville, Cumberland County. I was a couple years removed from high school, having served in the Navy. Neither alcohol, not paddle spanking frat boys interested me. I wanted to meet girls and Sally was now caught in the cross hairs of my libido.
Moving this story along, we smooched that night, and quite a few nights afterwards. We never went all the way, but heavy petting and youthful grinding filled up our dance card whenever we met. She would send me perfumed letters talking about her love for me and desire to watch the sun rise over duckshit pond. I would share the notes with my roommate Matt and we would laugh and giggle at what a proper response would be. I never did write back. I am from the mafia-school of correspondence. Never in writing. Never on the phone.
Sally's dependence on me grew. She would stakeout my classes and wait for me at my dorm. I had known her for about two weeks by this time. We were neither exclusive, nor did I fill her ears with false promises. I was a jerk to her, for sure--just look at this post--but not a jerk in the way one would assume.
One day, while searching for the keys to my suite door, Matt darted through the door.
"Sally is in the room,” he stammered. “She's been there for four hours and won't leave until she sees you!" Recognizing that I was cozy with a stalker, I did what any brave, formerly military, rippling muscles, trained killer would do. I hid in Bluto's room.
Sally saw me sneak into his room and pounded on the door with Waco/Branch Davinian-force. Bluto made an excuse and said I wasn't there. She demanded to search the 15' x 15' box and Bluto denied her request. "Do I know you?" he asked rhetorically. Funny thing is, Bluto didn’t know me. This was our introduction to each other. We would fast become friends.
Sally stomped back to my dorm room, cursing all the way. Realizing that both Matt and now Bluto were victims, I managed to muster the courage to confront Sally.
“Get out! Go away! I don’t want to see you again! You are crazy!” I tried to be delicate but firm.
She did leave, and our contact became less frequent. She called me a week later to tell me she was transferring because I broke her heart (cool, I’m a heart breaker!). My friends once stopped her outside my building; she was crazed and demanding to see me. (I was in the stairwell window, mooning my pals). And, the coup de grace, upon hearing I was seeing someone else, she summoned me downstairs to talk.
“What do you want Sally?” I disinterestingly asked.
“I know you want to kiss me,” she purred, her finger making coy little circles on my belly.
Is she freaking serious? “Is this a dream?” I asked myself.
Using the acting skills I perfected convincing my mother I was sick 14 times senior year, I played the role of the weakened male; unable to refuse the sexual advances of this little minky.
“ I do,” I hurriedly panted, pressing my lips to her lips, my hips to her hips. I kissed her slowly and deeply. She moaned.
Suddenly, I pulled away and ran.
“I hate the power you have over me, Sally. I must never see you again.”
Into my dorm I went, shared the story with my friends and became a folk hero to the moronic. Really, we are all folk heroes to someone; we just need to find what makes us interesting to others.
What is interesting about Sally is that in all the time we spent together, including naked interludes in her roommate-free dorm, she never took off her socks. Never.
I became convinced she possessed an extra toe and thusly gave her the nickname “Six-Toed Sally.”
She eventually got a boyfriend and I became invisible. She seemed pretty happy, which is good. I mean, just because I’m not the one for you, and you are definitely not the one for me, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy.
Congratulations Six-Toed Sally. You are the first story in ArtieLange’s celebration of Women’s History Month!
Friday, February 09, 2007
If a tree falls in the woods...
I love this post. It was written by a political scientist who hosts the blog http://irrational-woman.blogspot.com/
Advice Please
I'm planning to get my oldest son a laptop computer for a combination birthday and graduation present, and I'm not sure what I need to get. Any advice on brands and processors would be greatly appreciated. I want this to be something good that will hopefully get him through 4 years of college without needing to be replaced during that time frame.
What's the big deal, you say? Well, this post was written on February 7th. She posts about 5 times a day and hadn't received a comment since January 26th. According to my math that's like 5 million posts without a comment. Just whom was she seeking advice from?
Advice Please
I'm planning to get my oldest son a laptop computer for a combination birthday and graduation present, and I'm not sure what I need to get. Any advice on brands and processors would be greatly appreciated. I want this to be something good that will hopefully get him through 4 years of college without needing to be replaced during that time frame.
What's the big deal, you say? Well, this post was written on February 7th. She posts about 5 times a day and hadn't received a comment since January 26th. According to my math that's like 5 million posts without a comment. Just whom was she seeking advice from?
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Death Pool Participants Celebrate Anna Nicole's Death
For Madison, Wisconsin residents Jerry Bulgmeyer and David Johansen February 8,2007 was a wonderful day. Known in their Death Pool as Sunny and Share, the two longtime roommates were the only contestants who selected Anna Nicole Smith for a 2007 termination.
With news of the Trim Spa model's death, the two Best Buy employees hugged and danced in the HDTV ailse and then fought off challenges to their sexuality by claiming that it is perfectly normal for two 38-year old guys who have never had girlfriends to coahbitate.
By correctly selecting Smith, the death pool duo picked up 61 points and an early lead in the point standings. Participants in their Yahoo Groups Death Pool, named The Morge (sic), each anted up $20 for the pool. It is a winner-take-all contest.
Should they win, Bulgmeyer and Johansen, who are playing as one, stand to win $40. The only other participant is John Mugwumbi, a farmer from Malawi who thought he was actually buying seeds when he entered the contest.
Said Mugwumbi of Anna Nicole's death, "We are very hungry and if we don't get those seeds we will all die."
Psychological profile of Artie's favorite new blogger
Pistols at Dawn is a young white male, approximately 25 years old. He is likely a graduate of an esteemed college or university. Some guesses are Columbia, St. Johns College, or Williams.
Pistols is likely employed as either an account executive, probably in the PR/Advertising field or as a staff member of a company with large federal government contracts. Given his penchant for posting, he is an unproductive worker.
Pistols at Dawn has trouble relating to his co-workers, as his superior education and contempt for others has alienated most. He especially dislikes his immediate boss who obviously gained his job through a nepotistic connection. In the top drawer of his desk is a stash of candy, most likely Snickers and 100 Grand bars.
While Pistols loves the women, they are not enthralled with his willingness to interrupt any conversation to share a terse and insightful comment. His creative mind confuses most women, and those that are attracted to him are probably not desirable themselves. As a result, Pistols occupies his time with reading. He has read Braudel’s Mediterranean (both volumes), as well as Proust’s À la recherché du temps perdu. He has a collection of comic books (Marvel over DC) and he lives alone.
Growing up (likely in Washington DC) Pistols at Dawn was exposed at an early age to the wealth and power concentrated in the nations’ capital. He was kicked-out of St. Albans Prep to make room for a diplomat’s son, and completed prep school at Georgetown Prep where the Jesuits named him most likely to be excommunicated.
Pistols at Dawn has never actually challenged anyone to a duel, though he is a charter member of the Aaron Burr Society. His parent are both college professors and he has a younger sister who he loves dearly. He most associates himself with Holden Caulfield, though others see him as a disciple of Catch-22's Yossarian.
Pistols at Dawn hosts Artie Lange’s favorite new blog. Stop by and don’t forget to read the archives.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
You've asked for it and we've responded!
I had twelve bowel movemently-challenged engineers working on My Face Furniture's newest product line. I fed these enthusiastic techies a diet of prunes and shredded wheat with the stipulation that no one goes until the project was a go.
When they told me that the beer meister (far right) would be energy efficient, cooled with recycled toilet water, I knew I was onto something big. In fact, I just got off the phone with my lawyers who trademarked the name “Brownstar Efficient.” I will corner the market on earth friendly bathrooms.
My ad agency has just sent me some branding ideas.
“Mother Nature sits on My Face”
“Sit on My Face and save a dolphin”
“You can download porn while you sit on My Face.”
“Bring your ass to My Face and have a beer while you are at it.”
“My Face is made for pooping”
“Fight logging while you leave a log…only on My Face”
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Artie Lange wants to be a Republican. Desperately
I am saddened that some damn computer has deemed me unworthy of the Grand Old Party. Only 4% of me is truly Republican and I'll let the ladies decide what 4% of me that is.
I want to be a Republican. They have more clothing options. Republicans have Brooks Brothers, Izod Lacoste, Rockport, Polo. Democrats have Birkenstock and that Walter Mondale t-shirt. Reps have more radio options (Rush, Hannity, O'Reilly, and Bennett; while Dems have that communist run NPR).
Republican women are blonde and agressive (probably beasts in the sack); Democratic women want to talk about reproductive rights as a form of foreplay.
I've never played golf, but I imagine I would make a lot of Republican friends on the links. My Democratic friends don't play sports because someone has to lose and that is wrong.
Republicans can count on the military personel, with their tanks, guns, and jets, as a key continuency. Democrats have a dude with a VW Bus.
In the end, I want to be a Republican because then I can blame the poor for my woes. I don't like the poor because they make me feel bad about myself. I think a poor person cost Steakbellie a victory at Wing Bowl.
Artie Lange. Republican since 9:39 AM EST.
I want to be a Republican. They have more clothing options. Republicans have Brooks Brothers, Izod Lacoste, Rockport, Polo. Democrats have Birkenstock and that Walter Mondale t-shirt. Reps have more radio options (Rush, Hannity, O'Reilly, and Bennett; while Dems have that communist run NPR).
Republican women are blonde and agressive (probably beasts in the sack); Democratic women want to talk about reproductive rights as a form of foreplay.
I've never played golf, but I imagine I would make a lot of Republican friends on the links. My Democratic friends don't play sports because someone has to lose and that is wrong.
Republicans can count on the military personel, with their tanks, guns, and jets, as a key continuency. Democrats have a dude with a VW Bus.
In the end, I want to be a Republican because then I can blame the poor for my woes. I don't like the poor because they make me feel bad about myself. I think a poor person cost Steakbellie a victory at Wing Bowl.
Artie Lange. Republican since 9:39 AM EST.
Because I don't want to write
| You Are 4% Republican |
 If you have anything in common with the Republican party, it's by sheer chance. You're a staunch liberal, and nothing is going to change that! |
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Business Plan Complete: Introducing My Face Furniture
For Immediate Release
February 1, 2007
New Jersey--Artie Lange Enterprises announced the creation of his new superstore, My Face Furniture. The store, which specializes in bidets, is set to open this Saturday
Founder and CEO Artie Lange is wholeheartedly fervent in his belief that My Face Furniture will succeed. “Sit on My Face Furniture and you’ll never want to go anywhere else.”
While Lange has been called the Midas (or was that Meineke?) of retail, he concedes he isn’t perfect. “I have a big mouth and many people believe it hurts My Face,” he stated. “That said, we have developed an aggressive marketing plan that urges wavering lesbians to sit on My Face Furniture.”
Others are encouraged to try-out My Face, too, but Lange has set some restrictions.
“Anyone over 150 pounds is too big for My Face,” he warned. “My Face was designed with the petite young flower in mind. For those over a buck fifty, I can recommend some other, perfectly fine places to sit, just not on My Face.”
The company is also guaranteeing to leave your crotch wet or you get your money back. Lange emphasizes his customer oriented focus, “I want every woman uncertain of her sexual orientation to know that My Face is here to serve you.”
But the service doesn’t stop with a single-seater; My Face Furniture is also introducing a love seat style bidet. “I’ve always dreamed that My Face was meant for two women, not just one,” said Lange.
This is Artie Lange’s third venture into business. His first, You Need a Big Dick, Private Investigative Services was closed down for tax evasion. His second, Give a Hand, Job Placement Services was voluntarily closed down after claims of prostitution surfaced.
-30-
New Jersey--Artie Lange Enterprises announced the creation of his new superstore, My Face Furniture. The store, which specializes in bidets, is set to open this Saturday
Founder and CEO Artie Lange is wholeheartedly fervent in his belief that My Face Furniture will succeed. “Sit on My Face Furniture and you’ll never want to go anywhere else.”
While Lange has been called the Midas (or was that Meineke?) of retail, he concedes he isn’t perfect. “I have a big mouth and many people believe it hurts My Face,” he stated. “That said, we have developed an aggressive marketing plan that urges wavering lesbians to sit on My Face Furniture.”
Others are encouraged to try-out My Face, too, but Lange has set some restrictions.
“Anyone over 150 pounds is too big for My Face,” he warned. “My Face was designed with the petite young flower in mind. For those over a buck fifty, I can recommend some other, perfectly fine places to sit, just not on My Face.”
The company is also guaranteeing to leave your crotch wet or you get your money back. Lange emphasizes his customer oriented focus, “I want every woman uncertain of her sexual orientation to know that My Face is here to serve you.”
But the service doesn’t stop with a single-seater; My Face Furniture is also introducing a love seat style bidet. “I’ve always dreamed that My Face was meant for two women, not just one,” said Lange.
This is Artie Lange’s third venture into business. His first, You Need a Big Dick, Private Investigative Services was closed down for tax evasion. His second, Give a Hand, Job Placement Services was voluntarily closed down after claims of prostitution surfaced.
-30-
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Artie Lange: Charlatan Hunter
So I got to thinking (not really, but I never use this tired phrase and thought it was about time I tried it on). Anyway, I was thinking, are there bloggers on this planet who plagiarize their posts?
They must exists, people who are insecure, lonely, want to be more than what they are. Perhaps they are cutting and pasting my witticisms, observations, and otherwise publishable material. If you are out there, I hate you! Get some of your own ideas! Do you think it is easy for me to craft a story about bowel movements and homosexual love?
I am on a quest; I will find blogosphere plagiarizers and expose them as the Charlatans they are. Sheriff Artie is in town and I’m lookin’ to rustle up me some word lifters.
By the way, my favorite Charlatan may be John R. Brinkley, the "goat-gland doctor" who implanted goat glands as a means of curing male impotence, helped pioneer both American and Mexican radio broadcasting, and twice ran unsuccessfully for governor of Kansas.
In the end, I suspect the only Charlatan I may find is Mustard10 (see January 19th post "The original post that ticked-off an unstable person (you decide who I'm talking about)"
They must exists, people who are insecure, lonely, want to be more than what they are. Perhaps they are cutting and pasting my witticisms, observations, and otherwise publishable material. If you are out there, I hate you! Get some of your own ideas! Do you think it is easy for me to craft a story about bowel movements and homosexual love?
I am on a quest; I will find blogosphere plagiarizers and expose them as the Charlatans they are. Sheriff Artie is in town and I’m lookin’ to rustle up me some word lifters.
By the way, my favorite Charlatan may be John R. Brinkley, the "goat-gland doctor" who implanted goat glands as a means of curing male impotence, helped pioneer both American and Mexican radio broadcasting, and twice ran unsuccessfully for governor of Kansas.
In the end, I suspect the only Charlatan I may find is Mustard10 (see January 19th post "The original post that ticked-off an unstable person (you decide who I'm talking about)"
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
If you haven't read Bert Bananas vivid account of a relationship ending over espresso, then you should. As I mentioned on his blog, I too was at the same Starbucks. Subsequently, Bert posted a crummy, uner-exposed picture of the unhappy couple. Thanks to the Artie Lange photo fixer (patent pending) I was able to clear up the picture. Notice anything different?
Original Photo
Image enhanced photo
Original Photo
Image enhanced photo
Case Number 1,297 on why women are better than men
The entire Lange family had a stomach virus recently. Son was first to heave-ho (Friday), followed by Frick and Frack on Sunday. Mom and dad came down with a belly ache on Monday, as the kid's ailments lingered on.
Anyway, Artie and son were both lifeless, unable to walk, talk, or blog; while daughters and mom carried on in spite of the virus. Mrs. Lange cleaned, Mrs. Lange did laudry, Mrs. Lange took care of the kids. The girls played, made a mess and did everything that (almost) two year olds should do.
Artie and son slept and slept. Artie slept on the couch. Son fell asleep in the stairs. Artie made it into bed. Son, who refused to go to bed, slept on the living room floor.
As Artie's sister-in-law put it: "The girls are learning to be mommies; mommies aren't aloud to get sick."
The entire Lange family had a stomach virus recently. Son was first to heave-ho (Friday), followed by Frick and Frack on Sunday. Mom and dad came down with a belly ache on Monday, as the kid's ailments lingered on.
Anyway, Artie and son were both lifeless, unable to walk, talk, or blog; while daughters and mom carried on in spite of the virus. Mrs. Lange cleaned, Mrs. Lange did laudry, Mrs. Lange took care of the kids. The girls played, made a mess and did everything that (almost) two year olds should do.
Artie and son slept and slept. Artie slept on the couch. Son fell asleep in the stairs. Artie made it into bed. Son, who refused to go to bed, slept on the living room floor.
As Artie's sister-in-law put it: "The girls are learning to be mommies; mommies aren't aloud to get sick."
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Steakbellie is Having a Party
(and I'm at home)
It is high school revisited. All the cool kids have gotten together at Kimmy Mezner's house for a party while her parents are in New York City. Artie Lange, however, is not invited. Instead I am planning to meet a few other nerds at Shira School for some late night basketball. Afterwards we will go to the 7-11 and get a big gulp. If we are lucky, we'll see one of the hot chicks at the store picking up more ice and condoms. She won't talk to me.
Boy, I wish I was at Steakbellie's party. Son has a stomach virus and is puking every hour. Actually, he is on the mend, but Mrs. Lange and I are exhausted. Looks like we'll watch 13 Going on 30 and eat ice cream.
I bet right now, Steakbellie is laughing with a bevy of women surrounding him, their hands stroking his chest, getting a chance to feel what must be a $1,000 tux. I imagine the caviar bar is being replenished and the Gray Goose and Belvidere are flowing down a carved track in the Wing Bowl ice sculpture they purchased. In about an hour I bet they'll be having Baked Alaska and Bananas Foster. The twelve-piece band will be starting their final set. That is until Wing Kong throws the band a few hundred extra to keep playing.
My 20 year reunion is this year. It is a chance to reopen the wounds of adolencence and see all of the people who I can't, and don't, call friend. Not being at Steakbellie's party is good preperation. That said, I think I want to go to the reunion. I don't know. I guess there is a hope I could have a meaningful conversation with someone, perhaps help me think more favorably of MCHS and my hometown. I will not go there to measure myself to others. The first person who feels the need to tell me how sucessful they are, I will lift their wallet. I'm serious. I've been practicing. You can find anything on the web, even the art of pickpocketing.
Hope you are having fun, Steakbellie. I'm sure I'll see all the pictures posted on your website, and if not there, in the society page of the New York Times.
(and I'm at home)
It is high school revisited. All the cool kids have gotten together at Kimmy Mezner's house for a party while her parents are in New York City. Artie Lange, however, is not invited. Instead I am planning to meet a few other nerds at Shira School for some late night basketball. Afterwards we will go to the 7-11 and get a big gulp. If we are lucky, we'll see one of the hot chicks at the store picking up more ice and condoms. She won't talk to me.
Boy, I wish I was at Steakbellie's party. Son has a stomach virus and is puking every hour. Actually, he is on the mend, but Mrs. Lange and I are exhausted. Looks like we'll watch 13 Going on 30 and eat ice cream.
I bet right now, Steakbellie is laughing with a bevy of women surrounding him, their hands stroking his chest, getting a chance to feel what must be a $1,000 tux. I imagine the caviar bar is being replenished and the Gray Goose and Belvidere are flowing down a carved track in the Wing Bowl ice sculpture they purchased. In about an hour I bet they'll be having Baked Alaska and Bananas Foster. The twelve-piece band will be starting their final set. That is until Wing Kong throws the band a few hundred extra to keep playing.
My 20 year reunion is this year. It is a chance to reopen the wounds of adolencence and see all of the people who I can't, and don't, call friend. Not being at Steakbellie's party is good preperation. That said, I think I want to go to the reunion. I don't know. I guess there is a hope I could have a meaningful conversation with someone, perhaps help me think more favorably of MCHS and my hometown. I will not go there to measure myself to others. The first person who feels the need to tell me how sucessful they are, I will lift their wallet. I'm serious. I've been practicing. You can find anything on the web, even the art of pickpocketing.
Hope you are having fun, Steakbellie. I'm sure I'll see all the pictures posted on your website, and if not there, in the society page of the New York Times.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
My Day at Work
By Artie Lange
"The speed of time is one second per second," he announced to the assemblage of lab coats. There was disdain in his voice and an “82” pin on his lapel.
“Military, I think,” I whispered to Sasha. “He must have been in the Eighty-Second Airborne.”
Sasha shushed my almost silent supposition and spoke scoldingly of my selfish stance towards the seasoned superintendent, who was our new boss.
To my credit, I deflected Sasha’s defamatory declarations and deliberately declared détente, as I no longer disapproved of my desk mate’s dalliances.
“I forgive you for everything,” I said softly, my hand giving his thigh a squeeze as tight as my words were slack. Our eyes locked long enough for me to share with him an effeminate and loving smile.
Sasha pulled back quickly, “what the !” He was stopped before his panicked response could continue. A hundred set of eyes shoot darts through his skull. His co-workers were not amused by the interruption.
The General, or whatever his rank was, raised his voice loud enough to refocus the audience’s attention on him.
“Thought is not something we have time for at this company,” he measuredly said, too slow for someone who is so concerned with time, I thought.
“Thought gets us distracted,” he continued, every word gaining emphasis.
“The climax was soon to come,” I said and then winced. As a person who prides himself on words, climax and come should never be set in the same sentence. Pornography has permanently divorced from proper usage two perfectly acceptable words.
“From now on,” and with this the lights dimmed in b-movie fashion, signaling to us the ominous words to come.
“From now on,” he repeated this part to fully gain everyone’s attention. Then he said it again.
“From now on, I’ll do the thinking for all of us. I’ll think and you'll do. Is that clear?” His words were authoritative and seismic, the room shook with fear.
“You dawdle, Sasha, you delay. I forgive you for being so slothful.”
Sasha shook his head with disgust. He thinks I am being silly when I am steadfastly serious.
“You! You got a problem with this?” Colonel Carthwright, or whatever, was dressing down Sasha. “Shake your head all you want to, my friend, but I hear one more smart-ass remark from you, I’ll can your ass!”
The Admiral, or whatever, had now bounded off the stage and was face to face with Sasha. Lieutenant Lipshitz, or whatever, came closer to Sasha, bringing his mouth to Sasha’s ear.
“Try me, dipshit,” the Captain, or whatever, said in a laughed whisper. “They don’t call me Avery “Eighty-six them all” Anderson for nothing.”
Hey, that’s not an eighty-two on his coat after all, I thought. Maybe this guy isn’t prior military.
My civilian boss was still next to me, still confronting Sahsa. Sweat beads were rolling down his pink, hot skin. He was waiting for Sasha to throw the first punch.
“Sir, my name is Artie Lange and I’m fully prepared not to think, sir,” I said aloud. I was beginning to really like this guy.
The boss never took his eyes off Sasha as he spoke to me.
“G-o-o-o-o-d, r-e-e-e-e-e-ally good,” his syllables extended to fully convey his satisfaction with me.
His words then shifted course back to Sasha. “You could learn from this guy,” he said. "Maybe you two should be desk mates.”
“I’ll be his desk mate if you want me to,” I said, “but be warned, sir, this guy likes to dally, dawdle, and delay.”
“Hmmm, alliterations,” nodded the boss, “I like that. I really like that.”
Maybe I’ll tell him about my blog.
By Artie Lange
"The speed of time is one second per second," he announced to the assemblage of lab coats. There was disdain in his voice and an “82” pin on his lapel.
“Military, I think,” I whispered to Sasha. “He must have been in the Eighty-Second Airborne.”
Sasha shushed my almost silent supposition and spoke scoldingly of my selfish stance towards the seasoned superintendent, who was our new boss.
To my credit, I deflected Sasha’s defamatory declarations and deliberately declared détente, as I no longer disapproved of my desk mate’s dalliances.
“I forgive you for everything,” I said softly, my hand giving his thigh a squeeze as tight as my words were slack. Our eyes locked long enough for me to share with him an effeminate and loving smile.
Sasha pulled back quickly, “what the !” He was stopped before his panicked response could continue. A hundred set of eyes shoot darts through his skull. His co-workers were not amused by the interruption.
The General, or whatever his rank was, raised his voice loud enough to refocus the audience’s attention on him.
“Thought is not something we have time for at this company,” he measuredly said, too slow for someone who is so concerned with time, I thought.
“Thought gets us distracted,” he continued, every word gaining emphasis.
“The climax was soon to come,” I said and then winced. As a person who prides himself on words, climax and come should never be set in the same sentence. Pornography has permanently divorced from proper usage two perfectly acceptable words.
“From now on,” and with this the lights dimmed in b-movie fashion, signaling to us the ominous words to come.
“From now on,” he repeated this part to fully gain everyone’s attention. Then he said it again.
“From now on, I’ll do the thinking for all of us. I’ll think and you'll do. Is that clear?” His words were authoritative and seismic, the room shook with fear.
“You dawdle, Sasha, you delay. I forgive you for being so slothful.”
Sasha shook his head with disgust. He thinks I am being silly when I am steadfastly serious.
“You! You got a problem with this?” Colonel Carthwright, or whatever, was dressing down Sasha. “Shake your head all you want to, my friend, but I hear one more smart-ass remark from you, I’ll can your ass!”
The Admiral, or whatever, had now bounded off the stage and was face to face with Sasha. Lieutenant Lipshitz, or whatever, came closer to Sasha, bringing his mouth to Sasha’s ear.
“Try me, dipshit,” the Captain, or whatever, said in a laughed whisper. “They don’t call me Avery “Eighty-six them all” Anderson for nothing.”
Hey, that’s not an eighty-two on his coat after all, I thought. Maybe this guy isn’t prior military.
My civilian boss was still next to me, still confronting Sahsa. Sweat beads were rolling down his pink, hot skin. He was waiting for Sasha to throw the first punch.
“Sir, my name is Artie Lange and I’m fully prepared not to think, sir,” I said aloud. I was beginning to really like this guy.
The boss never took his eyes off Sasha as he spoke to me.
“G-o-o-o-o-d, r-e-e-e-e-e-ally good,” his syllables extended to fully convey his satisfaction with me.
His words then shifted course back to Sasha. “You could learn from this guy,” he said. "Maybe you two should be desk mates.”
“I’ll be his desk mate if you want me to,” I said, “but be warned, sir, this guy likes to dally, dawdle, and delay.”
“Hmmm, alliterations,” nodded the boss, “I like that. I really like that.”
Maybe I’ll tell him about my blog.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Bush: worst president ever.
Vote Bert Bananas in 2008; he mentions me in his blog
It is approximately 4 hours until the State of the Union and I am already disheartened by Bush's remarks. Take his health care plan. Let's call it what it is: a plan to punish middle class, mostly union workers, and reward his pals. The basics: tax those workers with the best health plans (those negotiated by organized labor, being a large part; high level executives the other), and use that money to give tax breaks to small businesses and the self-employed so they can afford health insurance. Shouldn't we aspire that everyone has good healthcare, and not punish those that have it? Is this really a race to mediocrity--bring some down to bring others up?
I'm all for helping small business pay for health insurance, in fact, I think it should be a top priority to fix the system, but why must we punish some to reward others? I also understand the concept of a zero sum game, but this is just another partisan piece of crap initiative offered by a truck load of crap president. I have an idea? Stop dumping billions upon billions into Iraq. Take our soldiers out of harms way, and use our nation's resources to help our nation, not reward your Haliburton cronies and exact revenge for Saddam's attempting to kill daddy.
Sleep well, President Harding. You are no longer the worst president ever.
Vote Bert Bananas in 2008; he mentions me in his blog
It is approximately 4 hours until the State of the Union and I am already disheartened by Bush's remarks. Take his health care plan. Let's call it what it is: a plan to punish middle class, mostly union workers, and reward his pals. The basics: tax those workers with the best health plans (those negotiated by organized labor, being a large part; high level executives the other), and use that money to give tax breaks to small businesses and the self-employed so they can afford health insurance. Shouldn't we aspire that everyone has good healthcare, and not punish those that have it? Is this really a race to mediocrity--bring some down to bring others up?
I'm all for helping small business pay for health insurance, in fact, I think it should be a top priority to fix the system, but why must we punish some to reward others? I also understand the concept of a zero sum game, but this is just another partisan piece of crap initiative offered by a truck load of crap president. I have an idea? Stop dumping billions upon billions into Iraq. Take our soldiers out of harms way, and use our nation's resources to help our nation, not reward your Haliburton cronies and exact revenge for Saddam's attempting to kill daddy.
Sleep well, President Harding. You are no longer the worst president ever.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Why I should be Tucker's Daddy
(Should Smelmoo and Tangentwoman both eat it)
Irresponsible parents that they are, Smelmooo and Tangent Woman have not made arrangements to care for their dear doggy should they die.
I want the job.
- Tucker will have a warm and friendly home with a fenced yard condusive for play.
- I have a bucket full of tennis balls in my garage--they are all his.
- The dog park is close to my home giving ol' Tuckie a chance to interact with other canines.
- LikeTucker, I can't spell (shared interests)
- Like Smelmooo, I promise to write emasculating blog posts about the sweater I knitted for Tucker.
- I don't have a dog named Tanya, Chris, or anything else that will cause people to giggle.
- I am a state-college graduate (Salt of the Earth).
- I am an Ivy League graduate (among the elite).
- I promise to spend quality time with Tucker as often as possible.
- On the anniversary (ies) of your death (s), Tucker and I will visit the cemetary and lovingly pee on your headstone.
- Rutgers liver snaps.
- I have no problem with another living creatures sticking its nose in my groin.
Friday, January 19, 2007
The original post that ticked-off an unstable person (you decide who I'm talking about).
FW: letospirosis - very dangerous
Spebma wrote…
Here's another warning! We certainly live in a dangerous world. This incident happened recently in North Texas.A woman went boating one Sunday taking with her some cans of coke which she put into the refrigerator of the boat. On Monday she was taken to the hospital and placed in the Intensive Care Unit. She died on Wednesday. The autopsy concluded she died of Leptospirosis. This was traced to the can of coke she drank from, not using a glass. Tests showed that the can was infected by dried rat urine and hence the disease LeptospirosisRat urine contains toxic and deathly substances. It is highly recommended to thoroughly wash the upper part of soda cans before drinking out of them. The cans are typically stocked in warehouses and transported straight to the shops without being cleaned. A study at NYCU showed that the tops of soda cans are more contaminated than public toilets (i.e).. full of germs and bacteria. So wash them with water before putting them to the mouth to avoid any kind of fatal accident. Please forward this message to all the people you care about.(I JUST DID)
Artie Lange wrote…
While I think it is a good idea to wipe cans clean, I wouldn't characterize letospirosis as the killer it is made out to be, nor would I consider it a can to mouth disease, since it is more likey to be transmitted through swimming in lakes or splashing in puddles.
According to the CDC, there are approximately 100- to 200 cases in the US each year (and almost hald of those in Hawaii), most leading to nothing more than aches, pains, and fever that usually go away on their own. 1 out of 10 cases may include jaundice, menengitis, serious kidney or liver complications and even death. Antibiotics can effectively treat letospirosis. In other words, at most, 10 people might die each year from Letospirosis. If that number frightens you, you better not drive a car or swim, your chance of death with those two activiites are expotentially higher.
Have a great day!
Love,
the Coca Cola Bottling Company
(Rat free since November 23, 2006)
Mustard10 wrote…
I appreciate the warning no matter what. If it was your kid who was the one in 10 you are not going to care about the stats then, not for anything swimming or driving either bc it won't seem like 1 in 10 then. Thanks for the heads up Marty!
Artie Lange wrote…
I couldn't disagree more with your train of thought. To tell me to be warned about a disease that affects 100 to 200 people a year (that is a 1 in 3,000,000 chance of getting sick, and, at its worst, a 1 in 30 million chance of dying--though the number is more like 1 in 150 million) is nothing more than creating unwarranted paranoia and undue anxiety.
Be worried about this...
Deaths per Disease per year
Diabetes 74,219 (maybe our dear children shouldn't be drinking coke at all given that it is 37,190% more likely one will die from diabetes than letospirosis)
Chronic lower-respiratory disease 126,382
Stroke 157,689
Cancer 556,902
Heart disease 685,089 (342,544% more likely to die from this)
Letospirosis 2
Lastly, thanks for pointing out the very demagogic and obvious fact that stats don't matter when it is my kid with the disease. My children don't have the disease and likely never will. What they will have, God willing, is a clear sense of scientific inquiry and a patrilineal disdain for urban legend e-mails sent under the guise of public service. Yes, the story you read is an urban legend. Please refer to http://www.snopes.com/ if you don't believe me.
That said, clean your soda cans if you want; it is probably a good idea.
Veritas
Mustard10wrote…
Who are you? Other than quite rude so far? I am glad to hear about anything that I can do to keep my kids from getting sick at anytime from anything. I am open to knowledge of all sorts and even if it comes from an "urban legend" that there is some truth to it in there is an actual thing called letospirosis. I am beyond well aware about the other stats you posted to me although quite condescendingly you should know. To be warned about anything that can be harmful is called knowledge and if it creates paranoia and undue anxiety in people who can't just clean the can that is more of a personal issue. I happy to recieve knowledge no matter how insignficant as no one knows everything and we should never think we do. It is more likely at that point that we start to know less and less. I agree with the stats and the fact that kids shouldn't be drinking soda but I bet at a party now and then they might sometime in their lives have one (even yours) and if a little peice of knowledge is what reminds them or I to wipe the top then so be it. Who are you to pass judgement on what stats/things are "demogogic"?! Have you ever wrapped the body of someone's dead child while the parents are uncontrollably sobbing about what "might have been"? Have you ever felt true empathy for someone other than yourself? Given the tone of your email I would describe you as puffed up with way too much pride, but hey pride comes before the fall, eh? I have wrapped many bodies and I have grieved with families who lost children to things with lower stats working as a nurse for many years. So I continue to be grateful for what knowledge I get no matter how large or small if it benefits in any way my family, even if just to remind me of the small little things as the days fly by. So you worry only about the "bigger" things, and I hope all is well with you and yours. Next time try being nicer though, makes the world go 'round better.....
Artie Lange wrote…
I appreciate your reply and the conviction of your beliefs. I even enjoy your characterizations of me, as inaccurate as they are. But that happens when you have limited information on a subject (i.e., me). Same goes for inaccurate e-mails about a fictional guy who died as a result of a fictionally unclean soda distributor, from a disease that is so limited in scope that its only publicity comes from patently false and overly alarming e-mails. Last time I checked, the Letospirosis Society had yet been formed. As a nurse you should know the difference between information gained from bad sources and those gained from peer-reviewed sources.
Think it doesn't matter that the source and information is false and/or misleading? OK, let's play that out with Marty's other e-mail, the one urging you to reverse your PIN when it is demanded of you by a criminal. Go ahead and do it. After all, you received the information from an e-mail, it must be right. What will happen is Mr. or Ms. Gun-toting thug will go the ATM and be frustrated by the fact that he/she can't get money. Given that he/she probably has your wallet and therefore knows your whereabouts, there is some chance that he/she will be back to exact revenge. Oh, it might not be tomorrow or the next day, it might be never. But it could happen. In fact, I'd put those odds as significantly better than contracting letospirosis.
As I said, clean your cans. I personally think it is a good idea. Live life. Be happy. Enjoy! Enjoy!
You ask who I am. I am the guy who received an e-mail from you that said, damn the facts, this information is good. Then you evoked, what I consider, the hackneyed (and demagogic) mantra, what about the children?!!! It's all about the children, the children! You may disagree with my characterization. I have no problem with that.
I love children. I love mine and I love others. They deserve our love. I feel for the pain you must feel facing the death of an innocent child as part of your job. It is a noble calling that you (and my mother) have endeavored. But if I may use an analogy: hitting me in the head with a lead pipe to demonstrate the need for bicycle helmets, will get the point across, but it will also cause damage. The original e-mail that was our source of contention was written with the explicit desire to evoke emotion and cause fear. What makes it successful is that it is plausible and therefore gets spread virally through the internet. It is up to those of us who know better (and I include you in the group who obviously knows better) to discourage such e-mails. From a sociological standpoint, it is that same "plausible, but not based on all facts, conclusion" that stigmatizes the poor, the disabled, the mentally ill, and those of color.
It has been said "where you stand depends on where you sit." Given your experiences and the attitudes that were shaped by them, your welcoming Marty's information is valid. As for me, given my experiences and the attitudes that were shaped by them, I think of things this way. I should get about 60% of my diet from carbohydrates, but I shouldn't eat a box of Ho Hos to accomplish my nutritional goals. Junk food is junk, and junk information is junk, regardless of whether there is some good to come out of it. In the end, we are both right...just arguing different things.
I enjoy the dialogue. Sorry if you don't like the way my message was delivered.
Spebma wrote….
Artie, I know you love a good banter, I GET THAT, but if you had an issue with my FW:email which originated from another source, you should have contacted me directly. Not everyone gets your humor. BTW ....since when have you ever referred to me as Marty in the 17yrs I've known you...even to other people? I would love to say you're not an ass at times, just as I am obsessive...but we all know it's true. Kerri, he's enjoying every minute of this aggravation...so don't let it get to you. Believe it or not, Artie's not all that bad- just twisted.
Just LET IT GO!
Warmly, Marty
Mustard10 wrote…
I agree with Matry Artie, let it go. This is too much work and very tiring. I give your wife credit for having a patient soul for you. I get the impression that a lead pipe might not get the point across with you though.;-)
Have a great day Artie, take care.
Artie Lange wrote…
Stop brining my family members into this. It is not about my wife or my children. You've referenced both. And save the winks for your friends.
No need to respond. I do not care to hear from you.
Signed,
Matry Artie (commas, like facts, matter)
Artie Lange wrote (just to Spebma)…
Ah hominem: attack the man when you can't attack the argument.
I did contact you and everyone else about the veracity of your e-mail.
She responded by saying "if it was your child, statistics wouldn't matter" (duh)
Keep my child out of it. Stick to the facts.
I was worried if I called you MP, people might not know whom I was talking about :)
As a measure of atonement, I will send Mustard10 information on an archaic, yet vitally important, rare disease each day. After all, she appreciates it and it's all about the children. It is always about the children. Here is my first:
Alert Alert Alert
Beware of Achard Thiers Syndrome!
This disease, which was first diagnosed by a friend in East Texas, Arkansas, is very serious. According to a professor at the esteemed Harvard University, we must protect the children.
Also known as bearded woman disease, Achard Thiers Syndrome can severely hamper the dating habits of post menopausal, insulin dependant, diabetic women. Ladies, if you look in the mirror and see a scruff of hair on your chin, go to Home Depot at once and buy dimmer light bulbs for around your house, then make a bee line for CVS and the Norelco section, lastly, stop at the store and pick me up some beer. I'm thirsty.
This message is about 10% fact, that makes it good and worthy of distribution. No reasonable person can refute or object to the posting of this message. For more information, go to *******.
Mustard10 wrote…
Ay yi yi Artie, I am not bringing family members into anything I was complimenting her since you emails are so intense most likely you are that way everywhere. No need to be so defensive, none of us is perfect. Commas like facts matter and so does spelling, see your email below. Just relax, no need for hard feelings, there are none here. Take care.
Artie Lange wrote…
I thought I asked you not to contact me.
Mustard10 wrote…
Just like the last email I told you to let it go and you didn't. You are not the last word or thought Mr. Arrogant. I guess you have as much trouble with direction as I do.
Artie Lange wrote…
Really, you don't understand. I don't care what you think about me. Look at all the e-mails and total up the adjectives that directly describe you. Compare that to the adjectives used to describe me. Know what? I still don't care. I only want to be left alone. Please.
*******Editors note*******
Mustard10 was in a serious car accident an hour after Artie's last post. In her car police found a sawed off shotgun and directions to artie's home.
This is a thread of e-mails between three people, one being me. It all started with one of those urban legend e-mails I received. I hate those things. I hope you enjoy the correspondence!
FW: letospirosis - very dangerous
Spebma wrote…
Here's another warning! We certainly live in a dangerous world. This incident happened recently in North Texas.A woman went boating one Sunday taking with her some cans of coke which she put into the refrigerator of the boat. On Monday she was taken to the hospital and placed in the Intensive Care Unit. She died on Wednesday. The autopsy concluded she died of Leptospirosis. This was traced to the can of coke she drank from, not using a glass. Tests showed that the can was infected by dried rat urine and hence the disease LeptospirosisRat urine contains toxic and deathly substances. It is highly recommended to thoroughly wash the upper part of soda cans before drinking out of them. The cans are typically stocked in warehouses and transported straight to the shops without being cleaned. A study at NYCU showed that the tops of soda cans are more contaminated than public toilets (i.e).. full of germs and bacteria. So wash them with water before putting them to the mouth to avoid any kind of fatal accident. Please forward this message to all the people you care about.(I JUST DID)
Artie Lange wrote…
While I think it is a good idea to wipe cans clean, I wouldn't characterize letospirosis as the killer it is made out to be, nor would I consider it a can to mouth disease, since it is more likey to be transmitted through swimming in lakes or splashing in puddles.
According to the CDC, there are approximately 100- to 200 cases in the US each year (and almost hald of those in Hawaii), most leading to nothing more than aches, pains, and fever that usually go away on their own. 1 out of 10 cases may include jaundice, menengitis, serious kidney or liver complications and even death. Antibiotics can effectively treat letospirosis. In other words, at most, 10 people might die each year from Letospirosis. If that number frightens you, you better not drive a car or swim, your chance of death with those two activiites are expotentially higher.
Have a great day!
Love,
the Coca Cola Bottling Company
(Rat free since November 23, 2006)
Mustard10 wrote…
I appreciate the warning no matter what. If it was your kid who was the one in 10 you are not going to care about the stats then, not for anything swimming or driving either bc it won't seem like 1 in 10 then. Thanks for the heads up Marty!
Artie Lange wrote…
I couldn't disagree more with your train of thought. To tell me to be warned about a disease that affects 100 to 200 people a year (that is a 1 in 3,000,000 chance of getting sick, and, at its worst, a 1 in 30 million chance of dying--though the number is more like 1 in 150 million) is nothing more than creating unwarranted paranoia and undue anxiety.
Be worried about this...
Deaths per Disease per year
Diabetes 74,219 (maybe our dear children shouldn't be drinking coke at all given that it is 37,190% more likely one will die from diabetes than letospirosis)
Chronic lower-respiratory disease 126,382
Stroke 157,689
Cancer 556,902
Heart disease 685,089 (342,544% more likely to die from this)
Letospirosis 2
Lastly, thanks for pointing out the very demagogic and obvious fact that stats don't matter when it is my kid with the disease. My children don't have the disease and likely never will. What they will have, God willing, is a clear sense of scientific inquiry and a patrilineal disdain for urban legend e-mails sent under the guise of public service. Yes, the story you read is an urban legend. Please refer to http://www.snopes.com/ if you don't believe me.
That said, clean your soda cans if you want; it is probably a good idea.
Veritas
Mustard10wrote…
Who are you? Other than quite rude so far? I am glad to hear about anything that I can do to keep my kids from getting sick at anytime from anything. I am open to knowledge of all sorts and even if it comes from an "urban legend" that there is some truth to it in there is an actual thing called letospirosis. I am beyond well aware about the other stats you posted to me although quite condescendingly you should know. To be warned about anything that can be harmful is called knowledge and if it creates paranoia and undue anxiety in people who can't just clean the can that is more of a personal issue. I happy to recieve knowledge no matter how insignficant as no one knows everything and we should never think we do. It is more likely at that point that we start to know less and less. I agree with the stats and the fact that kids shouldn't be drinking soda but I bet at a party now and then they might sometime in their lives have one (even yours) and if a little peice of knowledge is what reminds them or I to wipe the top then so be it. Who are you to pass judgement on what stats/things are "demogogic"?! Have you ever wrapped the body of someone's dead child while the parents are uncontrollably sobbing about what "might have been"? Have you ever felt true empathy for someone other than yourself? Given the tone of your email I would describe you as puffed up with way too much pride, but hey pride comes before the fall, eh? I have wrapped many bodies and I have grieved with families who lost children to things with lower stats working as a nurse for many years. So I continue to be grateful for what knowledge I get no matter how large or small if it benefits in any way my family, even if just to remind me of the small little things as the days fly by. So you worry only about the "bigger" things, and I hope all is well with you and yours. Next time try being nicer though, makes the world go 'round better.....
Artie Lange wrote…
I appreciate your reply and the conviction of your beliefs. I even enjoy your characterizations of me, as inaccurate as they are. But that happens when you have limited information on a subject (i.e., me). Same goes for inaccurate e-mails about a fictional guy who died as a result of a fictionally unclean soda distributor, from a disease that is so limited in scope that its only publicity comes from patently false and overly alarming e-mails. Last time I checked, the Letospirosis Society had yet been formed. As a nurse you should know the difference between information gained from bad sources and those gained from peer-reviewed sources.
Think it doesn't matter that the source and information is false and/or misleading? OK, let's play that out with Marty's other e-mail, the one urging you to reverse your PIN when it is demanded of you by a criminal. Go ahead and do it. After all, you received the information from an e-mail, it must be right. What will happen is Mr. or Ms. Gun-toting thug will go the ATM and be frustrated by the fact that he/she can't get money. Given that he/she probably has your wallet and therefore knows your whereabouts, there is some chance that he/she will be back to exact revenge. Oh, it might not be tomorrow or the next day, it might be never. But it could happen. In fact, I'd put those odds as significantly better than contracting letospirosis.
As I said, clean your cans. I personally think it is a good idea. Live life. Be happy. Enjoy! Enjoy!
You ask who I am. I am the guy who received an e-mail from you that said, damn the facts, this information is good. Then you evoked, what I consider, the hackneyed (and demagogic) mantra, what about the children?!!! It's all about the children, the children! You may disagree with my characterization. I have no problem with that.
I love children. I love mine and I love others. They deserve our love. I feel for the pain you must feel facing the death of an innocent child as part of your job. It is a noble calling that you (and my mother) have endeavored. But if I may use an analogy: hitting me in the head with a lead pipe to demonstrate the need for bicycle helmets, will get the point across, but it will also cause damage. The original e-mail that was our source of contention was written with the explicit desire to evoke emotion and cause fear. What makes it successful is that it is plausible and therefore gets spread virally through the internet. It is up to those of us who know better (and I include you in the group who obviously knows better) to discourage such e-mails. From a sociological standpoint, it is that same "plausible, but not based on all facts, conclusion" that stigmatizes the poor, the disabled, the mentally ill, and those of color.
It has been said "where you stand depends on where you sit." Given your experiences and the attitudes that were shaped by them, your welcoming Marty's information is valid. As for me, given my experiences and the attitudes that were shaped by them, I think of things this way. I should get about 60% of my diet from carbohydrates, but I shouldn't eat a box of Ho Hos to accomplish my nutritional goals. Junk food is junk, and junk information is junk, regardless of whether there is some good to come out of it. In the end, we are both right...just arguing different things.
I enjoy the dialogue. Sorry if you don't like the way my message was delivered.
Spebma wrote….
Artie, I know you love a good banter, I GET THAT, but if you had an issue with my FW:email which originated from another source, you should have contacted me directly. Not everyone gets your humor. BTW ....since when have you ever referred to me as Marty in the 17yrs I've known you...even to other people? I would love to say you're not an ass at times, just as I am obsessive...but we all know it's true. Kerri, he's enjoying every minute of this aggravation...so don't let it get to you. Believe it or not, Artie's not all that bad- just twisted.
Just LET IT GO!
Warmly, Marty
Mustard10 wrote…
I agree with Matry Artie, let it go. This is too much work and very tiring. I give your wife credit for having a patient soul for you. I get the impression that a lead pipe might not get the point across with you though.;-)
Have a great day Artie, take care.
Artie Lange wrote…
Stop brining my family members into this. It is not about my wife or my children. You've referenced both. And save the winks for your friends.
No need to respond. I do not care to hear from you.
Signed,
Matry Artie (commas, like facts, matter)
Artie Lange wrote (just to Spebma)…
Ah hominem: attack the man when you can't attack the argument.
I did contact you and everyone else about the veracity of your e-mail.
She responded by saying "if it was your child, statistics wouldn't matter" (duh)
Keep my child out of it. Stick to the facts.
I was worried if I called you MP, people might not know whom I was talking about :)
As a measure of atonement, I will send Mustard10 information on an archaic, yet vitally important, rare disease each day. After all, she appreciates it and it's all about the children. It is always about the children. Here is my first:
Alert Alert Alert
Beware of Achard Thiers Syndrome!
This disease, which was first diagnosed by a friend in East Texas, Arkansas, is very serious. According to a professor at the esteemed Harvard University, we must protect the children.
Also known as bearded woman disease, Achard Thiers Syndrome can severely hamper the dating habits of post menopausal, insulin dependant, diabetic women. Ladies, if you look in the mirror and see a scruff of hair on your chin, go to Home Depot at once and buy dimmer light bulbs for around your house, then make a bee line for CVS and the Norelco section, lastly, stop at the store and pick me up some beer. I'm thirsty.
This message is about 10% fact, that makes it good and worthy of distribution. No reasonable person can refute or object to the posting of this message. For more information, go to *******.
Mustard10 wrote…
Ay yi yi Artie, I am not bringing family members into anything I was complimenting her since you emails are so intense most likely you are that way everywhere. No need to be so defensive, none of us is perfect. Commas like facts matter and so does spelling, see your email below. Just relax, no need for hard feelings, there are none here. Take care.
Artie Lange wrote…
I thought I asked you not to contact me.
Mustard10 wrote…
Just like the last email I told you to let it go and you didn't. You are not the last word or thought Mr. Arrogant. I guess you have as much trouble with direction as I do.
Artie Lange wrote…
Really, you don't understand. I don't care what you think about me. Look at all the e-mails and total up the adjectives that directly describe you. Compare that to the adjectives used to describe me. Know what? I still don't care. I only want to be left alone. Please.
*******Editors note*******
Mustard10 was in a serious car accident an hour after Artie's last post. In her car police found a sawed off shotgun and directions to artie's home.
Forgiveness
Consumer Reports gaffed on a recent study of car seats; Isaiah Washington got called out for using inappropriate language to describe a co-worker; and George Bush may have been a tad careless in his approach to Iraq.
So who is perfect?
Hey gang, things happen. If you have apologized and are truly sincere about it, then I forgive you. In fact, even if you haven't apologized or weren't sincere when you did, I forgive you too.
Congratulations, everyone starts with a clean slate today. Now that I have absolved you of sin, your job is to stay pure.
Heretofore, once you have done/said something that would land you on the pages of the National Enquirer, please report it here. Artie, is using the honor system. You are all honorable people.
Consumer Reports gaffed on a recent study of car seats; Isaiah Washington got called out for using inappropriate language to describe a co-worker; and George Bush may have been a tad careless in his approach to Iraq.
So who is perfect?
Hey gang, things happen. If you have apologized and are truly sincere about it, then I forgive you. In fact, even if you haven't apologized or weren't sincere when you did, I forgive you too.
Congratulations, everyone starts with a clean slate today. Now that I have absolved you of sin, your job is to stay pure.
Heretofore, once you have done/said something that would land you on the pages of the National Enquirer, please report it here. Artie, is using the honor system. You are all honorable people.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Better than Bush
| Your SAT Score of 1280 Means: |
 You Scored Higher Than Howard Stern You Scored Higher Than George W. Bush You Scored Lower Than Al Gore You Scored Lower Than David Duchovny You Scored Lower Than Natalie Portman You Scored Lower Than Bill Gates Your IQ is most likely in the 120-130 range Equivalent ACT score: 29 Schools that Fit Your SAT Score: Boston Univeristy University of California-Los Angeles University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill Dickinson College Hampshire College |
For your consideration...
Wing Bowl XV will be held at the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia on February 2, 2007. The theme is Philly versus the World. Everyone knows that the world is bigger that Philadelphia. But can a virtual nobody rise above his meek existence to triumph? I think this video gives us the answer.
Wing Bowl XV will be held at the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia on February 2, 2007. The theme is Philly versus the World. Everyone knows that the world is bigger that Philadelphia. But can a virtual nobody rise above his meek existence to triumph? I think this video gives us the answer.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Dear Mr. Ramen Noodles guy,
I'm sorry I never knew your name. Now that you are now dead, I know it to be Momofuku Ando. Given that you were 96 at the time of your death, I guess all those warnings about Ramen noodles being high in sodium were overblown. Then again, seeing that you likely made tens of millions of dollars (at $.25 a pop, during my college days) selling your tasty, just add water cusine, you may have lost the motivation to ingest your own brick-o-soup. I however had the need for Ramen Noodles. I had neither money nor cullinary skill.
Sleep well my dear friend. I hope you had a good meal before you kicked it.
Love,
Artie Lange
Monday, January 08, 2007
Meeting at Halliburton (overheard)
or
12 white men sitting around a table.
Boss: (to all) Now that Democrats are in charge of the Congress and subpoenas are sure to follow, we have some big problems with an upcoming project. Johnson?
Johnson: Yes sir. Well it seems our bid to build a 1,700-mile wall to protect us from those terrorist Mexicans and Guatemalans may have been a tad optimistic in price. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. We underbid, we win the work, and then we make money on change orders. No big deal.
Boss: God, I love change orders! Say can you believe they let that black, Tiger Woods, play at Augusta? He even drinks out of the same water fountain as I do!
Johnson: Yes, err…. as I was saying. The problem is that a Democratic controlled Congress will likely investigate any irregularities in constructions costs.
Boss: Speaking of irregularities, I haven’t had good bowel movements in days.
VP: Must be all that white bread you eat, boss. (laughter follows).
Johnson: Anyway, we need to find a way to make this project come in under budget. We can’t afford to lose money on this deal. Our company’s partners demand we make money.
VP: What, does Cheney plan on buying all of Wyoming? (laughter follows).
Boss: (angrily) Quiet, he could be listening! Besides, I need you to think. Time is money and the cost of materials is increasing as we sit here. Save us money! Make us money!
Intern: Sir?
Boss: Who are you?
Intern: I’m your intern sir. I’m a senior at Yale, a member of the Skull and Bones Society. I’m the guy who runs your predatory lending businesses in poor urban areas.
Boss: Yes! How is the company going?
Intern: We are taking 25% of each check cashed.
VP: You could make more, if the government would raise the minimum wage.
Boss: God forbid!
Intern: Sir, I think I know a way we could make this project work.
Boss: Keep talking:
Intern: Hire Mexicans.
Boss: What?
Intern: Hire Mexicans, sir. Many of them are skilled in construction and they will work for pennies on the dollar compared to American workers. In fact, sir, don’t pay them at all. Once the wall is up, it won’t even matter.
Boss: Can this work?
Intern: Yes sir, just make sure the Mexicans only work on the south side of the wall.
Boss: South side of the wall, brilliant!
or
12 white men sitting around a table.
Boss: (to all) Now that Democrats are in charge of the Congress and subpoenas are sure to follow, we have some big problems with an upcoming project. Johnson?
Johnson: Yes sir. Well it seems our bid to build a 1,700-mile wall to protect us from those terrorist Mexicans and Guatemalans may have been a tad optimistic in price. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. We underbid, we win the work, and then we make money on change orders. No big deal.
Boss: God, I love change orders! Say can you believe they let that black, Tiger Woods, play at Augusta? He even drinks out of the same water fountain as I do!
Johnson: Yes, err…. as I was saying. The problem is that a Democratic controlled Congress will likely investigate any irregularities in constructions costs.
Boss: Speaking of irregularities, I haven’t had good bowel movements in days.
VP: Must be all that white bread you eat, boss. (laughter follows).
Johnson: Anyway, we need to find a way to make this project come in under budget. We can’t afford to lose money on this deal. Our company’s partners demand we make money.
VP: What, does Cheney plan on buying all of Wyoming? (laughter follows).
Boss: (angrily) Quiet, he could be listening! Besides, I need you to think. Time is money and the cost of materials is increasing as we sit here. Save us money! Make us money!
Intern: Sir?
Boss: Who are you?
Intern: I’m your intern sir. I’m a senior at Yale, a member of the Skull and Bones Society. I’m the guy who runs your predatory lending businesses in poor urban areas.
Boss: Yes! How is the company going?
Intern: We are taking 25% of each check cashed.
VP: You could make more, if the government would raise the minimum wage.
Boss: God forbid!
Intern: Sir, I think I know a way we could make this project work.
Boss: Keep talking:
Intern: Hire Mexicans.
Boss: What?
Intern: Hire Mexicans, sir. Many of them are skilled in construction and they will work for pennies on the dollar compared to American workers. In fact, sir, don’t pay them at all. Once the wall is up, it won’t even matter.
Boss: Can this work?
Intern: Yes sir, just make sure the Mexicans only work on the south side of the wall.
Boss: South side of the wall, brilliant!
Thursday, January 04, 2007
of creativity, individuality, and a cup of mayo
SZG had tuna salad the other day. My kids had chicken salad for lunch. Whitefish salad is one of my favorites, and turkey salad is a staple, post-Thanksgiving meal in my house. Does anyone else notice we are missing something here?
Where is the beef salad? Where is the pork salad? Why isn't someone mixing mayo with these tasty meats?
Artie Lange sees a get-rich scheme in the making. Be on the lookout for Artie's House of the Beef Salad Sandwich. Coming to a redlined neighborhood near you.
SZG had tuna salad the other day. My kids had chicken salad for lunch. Whitefish salad is one of my favorites, and turkey salad is a staple, post-Thanksgiving meal in my house. Does anyone else notice we are missing something here?
Where is the beef salad? Where is the pork salad? Why isn't someone mixing mayo with these tasty meats?
Artie Lange sees a get-rich scheme in the making. Be on the lookout for Artie's House of the Beef Salad Sandwich. Coming to a redlined neighborhood near you.
How Jersey ARE you?
A shout out to my Joisey peeps. Time to establish your Bayonne/Begen/Burlington bona fides. Take the test. Artie Lange's prediction: Kat is more Jersey than Birdy. Will the Reverend prove me wrong?
http://www.gotoquiz.com/how_new_jersey_are_you
By the way, Artie scored an unimpressive 70%.
A shout out to my Joisey peeps. Time to establish your Bayonne/Begen/Burlington bona fides. Take the test. Artie Lange's prediction: Kat is more Jersey than Birdy. Will the Reverend prove me wrong?
http://www.gotoquiz.com/how_new_jersey_are_you
By the way, Artie scored an unimpressive 70%.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
An Artie Lange Exclusive!
Smelmooo Left with Wife's Table Scraps!!!
The New Year kicks off on a sad note, as Artie Lange investigators learn that the great Smelmooo lacks the domestic clout to claim anything but his wife's piddling castaways from the couple's M&M bowl.
Based on an online interview conducted by Artie Lange Super Slueth Kelli, we learn that Smelmooo is forbidden to eat from the M&M bowl until Tangentwoman eats all that she wants. Smelmooo, by then totally emasculated, is then free to partake in anything that's left. He does so with the smile of a Texas steer, happy to graze but unable to perform any manly functions.
Here is a Q&A between Kelli and the tragically powerless Smelmooo:
Q. What was the last thing that you ate?
A. Yellow M&Ms. We have a candy jar here and it only has yellow M&Ms in it. FUN!
Sadly, Artie Lange sources reveal that yellow M&M's are considered by Tangent Woman to be "disgusting little pellets of dried cat urine" and are "something I give to those I most despise." This according to an anonymous source who is close to the couple.
Artie Lange's news team began to investigate this marital injustice of confectionary proportions when Tangent Woman proudly proclaimed on the Artie Lange web site her hatred of all things yellow (and produced by M&M/Mars in a bag labeled M&M's).
Her rambling and hate-filled confession to follow.
tangentwoman said...
[...] I won't eat the yellows because I was allergic to yellow dye when I was a kid, and it's just stuck with me [...] Glad the Smelmooo [...]!
The hate-filled rants can be found within the ellipsis. For fear of facing litigation, the editorial board decided to omit said rants.
Artie Lange will keep you informed of any further developments.
Smelmooo Left with Wife's Table Scraps!!!
The New Year kicks off on a sad note, as Artie Lange investigators learn that the great Smelmooo lacks the domestic clout to claim anything but his wife's piddling castaways from the couple's M&M bowl.
Based on an online interview conducted by Artie Lange Super Slueth Kelli, we learn that Smelmooo is forbidden to eat from the M&M bowl until Tangentwoman eats all that she wants. Smelmooo, by then totally emasculated, is then free to partake in anything that's left. He does so with the smile of a Texas steer, happy to graze but unable to perform any manly functions.
Here is a Q&A between Kelli and the tragically powerless Smelmooo:
Q. What was the last thing that you ate?
A. Yellow M&Ms. We have a candy jar here and it only has yellow M&Ms in it. FUN!
Sadly, Artie Lange sources reveal that yellow M&M's are considered by Tangent Woman to be "disgusting little pellets of dried cat urine" and are "something I give to those I most despise." This according to an anonymous source who is close to the couple.
Artie Lange's news team began to investigate this marital injustice of confectionary proportions when Tangent Woman proudly proclaimed on the Artie Lange web site her hatred of all things yellow (and produced by M&M/Mars in a bag labeled M&M's).
Her rambling and hate-filled confession to follow.
tangentwoman said...
[...] I won't eat the yellows because I was allergic to yellow dye when I was a kid, and it's just stuck with me [...] Glad the Smelmooo [...]!
The hate-filled rants can be found within the ellipsis. For fear of facing litigation, the editorial board decided to omit said rants.
Artie Lange will keep you informed of any further developments.
2006 Revisited
I didn't write every month, but here are the leads to my sporatical postings of 2006.
I didn't write every month, but here are the leads to my sporatical postings of 2006.
In the 154 years since this great country was first formed, there has been only two great presidents: Benjamin Franklin and you.
It is true. I dumped a girl not because of boredom or aspirations for a better girlfriend. In the end, I did it because I was hungry, really hungry.
Iraq seems to be slipping further and further into the abyss.
So this chick named Iris comes to my studio. She's the quiet-type--not prone to offer eye contact or a warm smile.
Steakbellie away/Vacation in New York State/Wife’s heart with Artie
It is a sad, sad story that needs to be told.
Thanks Captain! (One day late)
One day at work I was asleep under my desk. It was OK, because I put on my schedule that I had a lunch meeting in Coney Island. Then I walked around the office that morning huffing and puffing. "Damn it, I have to go all the way to Coney Island for a meeting. Can you believe that?"
The young doctor ran his sinewy fingers through his dark wavy hair. He paused and sighed, measuring his thoughts; buying some time.
Colls, NJ, December 26, 2006-- Papa may have a brand new bag, but the Godfather of Soul is looking for a barely used coffin.
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