Dear snowflakes, cupcakes and progressive twits,
We here at the spacious Chattering Teeth blog studios know just how scary the world is to you. From mean old Trump as president, to Ann Coulter threatening to visit Berkeley to ENGAGE IN SPEECH! But worst of all is Global Warming!!! *GASP*
What better way for an snowflake to relieve stress that an adult coloring book? (yoga pants and kale not included). Introducing:
"This book is not political, but a celebration of information, learning, and research."
More like full blown propaganda, but at least its printed on 100% recycled paper and Vegetable-based, non-toxic ink.
This adult coloring book has given me an idea for my own capitalist money-making venture. No, not another coloring book. That market is a little thin for actual grown ups. I'm thinking more in line with pistol range paper targets, made from virgin Redwood tree flesh, and inked with polar bear blood. A pack of 20 targets would include bulls-eyes featuring caricatures of your favorite Climate Nazis like Bill DeNye and Algore, and various arctic creatures precariously perched on floating icebergs.
In the "Too Soon" Department - Bad Taste Post #693
***cue squiggly lines and blog dream sequence***
Apr 27, 2017. NFL Commissioner, Roger Goodell, grasps both sides of the podium and says, "With the 21st pick in the 2017 NFL draft, the Detroit Lions select the corpse of Aaron Hernandez, tight end.
*gasps* *whispering* *looks of shock and stunned disbelief*
*silence*
Then somewhere towards the back of the seating... Waaaay to the back, a slow clap begins...
*clap... clap clap*
And like a thunderstorm cloud that suddenly opens a trap door and unleashes a torrent, the crowd joins in and goes wild with raucous applause and whistles, and even begins to break out"the wave"!
Let's go to our panel for in depth coverage of this surprise pick by the Detroit Lions.
Chattering Teeth (CT): I love this pick. Mustache Glasses (MG): I hate this pick. Rubber Chicken (RC): *blank stare*
CT: Clearly, the Detroit Lions needed to upgrade their tight end position. Aaron Hernandez may not have the mobility he used to... MG: Umm he's deceased. CT: Even so, he must have better hands than Eric Ebron. MG: What about the tight end's pass blocking responsibilities and protecting the quarterback? RC: *blank stare* CT: THAT IS BRILLIANT, RUBBER CHICKEN! At least Hernadez' corpse would provide a potential tripping hazard to rushing opponents. Again, an upgrade over Ebron. MG: But what about the character issue? Aaron Hernandez was a convicted murdered, after all, before hanging himself in prison. Won't he just create a big stink in the locker room...
Shhh! Here's Roger again.
GOODELL: "With the 22nd pick in the 2017 NFL draft, the Detroit Lions have traded up with a pile of cash, the rest of their draft picks and any semblance of a future football team to select... 42 large industrial kegs of Febreze Extra Strength Odor Eliminator."
In the "Too Soon" Department - Bad Taste Post #692
Chattering Teeth News - According to the funeral home janitor named Potsie, a man entered the facility after hours wearing jeans and a white T-shirt under a leather jacket. He strutted up to Erin Moran's casket and uttering something like, "Ayyyyye..."
"He was crackling with power and outlined in a glowing light blue, like he was badly photo shopped by someone in a hurry to get to work," said Potsie. "He hits the side of the casket once with his fist, the lid pops open and out walks Joanie."
The only other information the janitor could provide was that she jumped on the back of the dudes motorcycle, and off they went. Later reports flooded the station that the two were spotted water skiing in the shark tank at the local zoo.
THE END
Happy Days ran from 1974, to 1984 (and syndication from then, on) - right in my wheel house. Loved that show. (Joanie Loves Chachi - not so much)
And now, Weezer performs at Arnold's. Got to see Weezer live about a decade ago as a chaperone for one of my boys and a car load of teenagers. Weezer opened for Foo Fighters. Weezer was fantastic. I couldn't stand the noise the other band was making, so I waited in the concourse while the headline played. The kids like it, though.
In a series of illustrations, the Google doodle tells the story of a sleeping fox that has a nightmare about the consequences of climate change, featuring melted icebergs and dead plants. Disturbed, the fox enlists two friends to be more thoughtful about conservation—the trio eat vegetables, grow plants, ride bikes and use solar energy.
There. I fixed it...
Once upon a time, there was a Google Earth Day Fox. Like most young libtards, he was nocturnal - meaning he slept all day in his parent's tree stump instead of holding down a job, and was "active" at night (going clubbin' and carousin'). While he slept, he dreamed of Mother Earth in all her natural abundance.
BUT SUDDENLY... His dreams turned into a nightmare, as a penguin lost its balance on a melting iceberg or something... and the poor, ignorant Earth Day penguin plunged into the icy waters to certain death!... ?
The Google Earth Day Fox was STARTLED AWAKE with a crazed look in his eyes, with a certainty that the Earth was in it's final death throes due to EVIL CAPITALISM, and the only prescription was massive wealth redistribution or something. He knew this because men of unimpeachable scientific knowledge, like Bill Nye the science guy and Algore had said so! And Neil deGrasse Tyson is an actual astrofizz-a-thingy, so he prolly knows ALL about weather stuff and isn't just an educated idiot political hack!
Then the Google Earth Day Fox's parents became concerned with his nonsensical Earth Day drivel, and rushed him to the ER for treatment. What he really needed was a "liberal" dose of psychotropic and antipsychotic medications to help him cope with his irrational anxieties.
"Schizophrenia and mania are just 2 legs of the 3-legged liberal progressive climate change stool," said Mr. Fox to his frothing and indoctrinated son.
but then the Google Earth Day Fox chased an imaginary butterfly off the hospital roof.
* Ex-Fox Factor Figure, Bill O'Reilly, hangs himself in lonely jail cell while former NFL player (and killer), Aaron Hernandez takes over as host.
* FaceSpace killer is a christian NRA member who targeted trannys and homos.
* In President Hellary's (sic) first 100 days, she has sent an armada of barges piled high with plastic toy reset buttons to the waters off North Korean (after that chubby Kimmy gal with the butch haircut nukes Seoul).
* Speaking of "Seoul" - Maxine Waters ("The Godmother of Soul") hears first case of oral arguments as the new Supreme Ct Justice, after knifing Merrick Garland in parking lot. She immediately belts out “Living In America” of Rocky IV fame, and calls for impeachment of Justice Clarence Thomas for putting a James Brown wig on her Coke.
This man who was once the best player in college football. He was the No. 2 pick in the 2003 NFL Draft, signing a $39.5 million contract with the Detroit Lions - which included a guaranteed signing bonus of $14.4 million.
He now "works" at an auto repair shop owned by a friend in Florida (although "admittedly, he doesn’t know much about cars...") He is considered one of the biggest busts in NFL history... He still smokes marijuana every day.
Ladies and gentlemen, Please welcome Robert Wagner's good friend, Christopher Walken to the blog...
"Mooshell on a barge? Definitely gonna need more cow bell."
North Korea spooked by reports that David Geffen’s luxury yacht, the Rising Sun, is en route off their shores and carrying the Obamas, Oprah Winfrey, Tom Hanks and Bruce Springsteen. The yacht can accommodate 18 guests and a staff of 55 people and has a basketball court - but Dennis Rodman is not reported to be with them. If this collection of kooks were headed my way, I would consider it an act of war. By the way, is it really a good idea to be traveling with Tom Hanks?
The Ultimate Tool to help you focus: Fidget, focus, and free yourself with the Fidget Block.
Reduce Stress: Use the 12-sided fidget block to help reduce stress and anxiety. Fidgeting is said to be beneficial for kids with ADHD(or tax payers on tax day)as well as to help people be more productive and creative. The Fidget Block can be used anywhere, use it on the job (sure, THAT will work out great), in school, or at home.
Better Than the Cube (don't kill the messenger:) : More features than a standard fidget cube. Our fidget toy has 12 sides guaranteed to keep your hand busy. Whether you're a clicker, a flicker, a roller or a spinner there’s something for everyone!
Disclaimer: Difficult to use while restrained in a straight jacket.
Or spend your $16.99 on something a little more practical...
Vice President Pence warns his travel agent, Sean Spicer, that his “era of strategic patience is over.” Spicer was supposed to
facilitate the VP's travel to the DMZ - the Demilitarized Zone on the Korean peninsula that splits North Korea from South Korea
in order to show U.S. support for South Korea and to send a message to the regime to the north.
He eventually got to the Korean DMZ, but not before Spicer mistakenly chauffeured Pence to the TMZ office in Los Angeles (where
the administration has learned that Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck are moving on), then to the Department of Motor Vehicles in
LA (where Spicer renewed his moped registration).
I have always been fascinated by the DMZ (and also fascinated by Sean Spicer's ability to feed and clothe himself). These NK soldiers are always peeking in the windows at the border shack. They should just have someone there constantly eating a cheeseburger just to taunt them.
Could we do something similar here? Isolate the clown liberals on one side of a border? How long before they wouldn't have electricity or indoor plumbing?
Didn’t see the first bunny until I was five – a tiger – thirteen footer. You know how you know that when the bunny is in your house, Chief? You lay in bed and look toward your darkened closet and see the shadow of floppy ears and the cotton tail. What my brothers and I didn’t know was our Easter mission to stay awake had been so secret, no distress signal to mom or dad had been sent. They didn’t even list us overdue 'til mornin'. Very first light, Chief, bunny come cruisin’. So we formed ourselves into tight groups…the idea was, the bunny comes to the nearest boy and he starts poundin’ and hollerin’ and screamin’. Sometimes the bunny go away. Sometimes he wouldn’t go away. Sometimes that bunny, he looks right into ya, right into your eyes. Y’know, the thing about a bunny, he’s got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll’s eyes. When he comes after ya, he doesn’t seem to be livin’ until he takes your colored eggs, and those black eyes roll over white, and then – aww, then you hear that terrible high-pitch screamin’, the bedsheet turns wet and yellow, and in spite of all the poundin’ and the hollerin’, he come in hippity hoppity and rip ya carrot snacks to pieces…in that first dawn, we lost a dozen eggs. I don’t know how many carrots, maybe a thousand. I don’t know how many eggs. he averaged six an hour… 8am Easter morning, mom called us. She put the coffee on and called us…and when we didn't answer, we heard her coming down the hallway from the kitchen to pick us up. You know, that was the time I was most frightened – waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never wear bunny pajamas again. So, four boys went to bed, four men come out, and the bunny took the boys, Sunday, April the 10th, 1966. Anyway, he delivered the chocolate and hid the eggs.
The Easter bunny used to scare the bejesus out of me when I was a kid. Not the dude in the obvious cheap mall costume, but the REAL Easter bunny. You know... Peter Cottontail. Remember the song?
Here comes Peter CottonTail
Hoppin' down the bunny trail
hippity hoppity
Easter's on its way
Santa Claus never scared me this way. St. Nick may be an elf, but he always reminded me of a kindly and gentle grandpa who brought me presents and candy once per year. The Easter bunny on the other hand, is this humongous beast covered in fur, with razor sharp teeth, whose sole mission is to HIDE the freakin' eggs I worked my a$$ off coloring!
On Christmas eve, all tucked and snug in bed, I would fall asleep with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head. On Easter eve, I would lay awake terrified, straining to hear any sign of the giant rodent with it's rodent brain thinking alien rodent thoughts. Would it stick to the script again this year by hiding the eggs, leaving some candy, and move on? Or would the creature twitch it's nose outside my bedroom door and decide to deviate from the schedule? No? Maybe it was just me then.
Welcome to the world Charlotte Rose! Born April 12th, 2017 at 8lbs 9oz and 20 inches long!
Grandfather's Creed This is my granddaughter. There has never been, nor ever will be anyone exactly like her, and this one is mine.
Before God, I swear this creed. As long as the Good Lord allows me to draw breath, I promise to love you, spoil you, and make you laugh at my really corny jokes... and to pass you back when your diaper rumbles :).
Coincidentally, there is an English flower that shares her name.
Per Gardenia.net: The Charlotte Rose
One of the most beautiful yellow English Roses and also one of the hardiest... 'Charlotte'; enjoys ravishingly beautiful... Each bloom is packed with many petals (100 petals) and opens gradually from rounded buds to exquisite, cup-shaped blooms, in a lovely shade of soft butter yellow. Charlotte has an excellent green foliage and makes a most attractive rose shrub, making it ideal for the front of a border or mixed beds (kinda looks like hard boiled eggs to me! What better flower than this for Easter Week?!)
* Very free flowering and easy to grow, this rose blooms in flushes from late spring until frost and is an excellent repeat bloomer. (I cannot WAIT to watch you bloom, Charlotte Rose!)
* these rose bushes look stunning, when planted in a row!(hear that kids? bring on the next grandchild and get that hedge started!)
* Best grown in full sun (and faith in our Lord), in rich, fertile (love and support) with adequate moisture, well-drained soils (and diapers!)
Did Ivanka convince her dad to bomb Syria with this tweet?:
We may never know.
Will Ivanka convince her dad to bomb Latin American countries where abortion is outlawed after meeting with the president of Planned Parenthood? Unlikely. But I bet she could convince her husband if he were president.
“Heartbroken and outraged by the images coming out of Latin America where abortions are outlawed and pregnant Women are not allowed to butcher their babies"
Apparently, images of babies flopping on the sidewalk in their final death throes due to a brutal chemical attack is heartbreaking, but Planned Parenthood's business of chemically and surgically murdering babies inside a mother's womb is a right to be protected? Does the sidewalk make that big of a difference?
WE INTERUPT THIS BLOG POST FOR A FUTURE MESSAGE FROM PRESIDENT JARED KUSHNER:
My fellow Americans: On Tuesday, medical clinics in Chile launched a horrible chemical attack on innocent civilian women by administering prenatal vitamins.
Using these one-a-day supplements will help ensure these pregnant woman deliver crucial nutrients to their helpless infant in utero, regardless of whether the mother finds it convenient to give birth.
Beautiful women not being allowed to cruelly murder their babies so they can continue pursuing their careers without having to take a horrific 9 month break! A very barbaric practice!
Tonight I ordered a targeted military strike against the health clinic where these prenatal vitamins were prescribed...
I've been busy and meant to post this from the mailbag this past Tuesday. Better late than never. You're welcome.
Dear DaBlade @ Chattering Teeth Blog,
I recently started a new job back in January. My predecessor was a real loser, and I inherited such a mess. Believe me! Due to the blunders of this last office-holder, from day one my index fingers have been caught in opposite ends of a tube of woven bamboo! My staff tell me my fingers are stuck in what is called a Chinese finger trap. Considering how unfair and 'one sided' the Chinese trade policies have been, the name makes perfect sense to me.
Despite this seemingly unsolvable Chinese finger trap, I have done such a tremendous job with many, many things. However, this handicap did keep me from repealing and replacing a horrible, horrible health care plan put in place by the previous occupant of this magnificent office. As hard as I tried pulling my fingers out of this coiled monstrosity - and despite having very tiny fingers for a man my size - the loosely woven strands would constrict tighter and tighter. I can't seem to get them out! Needless to say, my fingers are still stuck, and the aforementioned health care plan is still spiraling towards disaster. I will get back to that problem later.
Right now my problems are more immediate. That dumbass predecessor who shall not be named, wove this trap braid by braid. When he drew an imaginary red line, yet failed to enforce it after a competitor crossed it, the trap was complete. All of our competitors have been emboldened ever since, and see my inheritance of these intricately crafted fingercuffs as somehow also binding me to my predecessor's weakness.
While I intend to prove them wrong, I pull and pull until my face turns a darker shade of orange, yet these ties that bind!
And now the red line has been crossed again, this time on my watch, big league! I have no doubt that wispy-moustached Latka looking fella was egged on by that shirtless bear pulling on his strings. He's made the wrong calculus if he thinks I'm too his puppet biotch like my predecessor, and that I will respond by sending him a cheap, plastic toy with a large reset button, this I will tell you!
But my efforts at extricating myself have heretofore been counter-productive.
And to make matters worse, I have this Chinese fella sitting here next to me smirking, and looking at me like I'm as impotent as that last guy. He's probably thinking his little "Mini Me" with the bad haircut back home is also free to cross the red line. Yet, I pull and pull on these Chinese finger basket snares of bamboo that have me imprisoned to no avail!
Help me DaBlade, I have no where else to turn!
Signed,
Trumped in DC
Dear Mister President,
I have read that in India (or maybe I read this on reddit), they catch monkeys by putting food in a jar. The mouth of the jar is big enough to admit the hand of a monkey when the hand is open, but too small to admit the hand of a monkey which has been balled into a fist. According to the story, the monkey will not open his fist and let go of the food in order to escape from the jar. He closes his fist on the food, and won't let go.
I know what you're thinking: How am I going to get that Chinese fella and his Mini Me with the bad haircut, that wispy 'stached dude and the shirtless bear to all put their paws in a jar?
Good question... Change of plans. Call the shirtless bear and tell him he has mere minutes to get on his horse and ride hard, then launch a bunch of Tomahawks at Latka. While the missiles are flying, turn toward that Chinese visitor and watch his smirk fade as you push your fingers together, causing the trap's openings to loosen off your fingers and fall to the ground. Give him a glass jar with a cheese burger at the bottom and ask if he'd like to deliver it to bad haircut, or if you should.
LIFE LESSON #3,006: If you want your son to grow up with the ability to handle himself with his fists, you could name him "Sue". By the same token, if you want your son to grow up with the ability to spell like a boss, make sure his name contains an assortment of random consonants and vowels as if they were blind drawn Scrabble tiles... like last year's Scripps National Spelling Bee Co-champions, Nihar Saireddy Janga and Jairam Jagadeesh Hathwar.
To gain the title, Nihar spelled "gesellschaft," a type of social relationship, and Jairam aced "feldenkrais," a method of education.
Full Disclosure, I didn't read past that first paragraph on that linked story. Frankly, it had me at "gesellschaft" and "feldenkrais." I wish I had a nickel for every time I misspelled one of those two words. In fact, I now plan to have my name legally changed to Feldenkrais Gesellschaft.
So, congratulations Nihar and Jairam. Just thank your stars you didn't draw the word "Kabaragoya".
Let's give a warm welcome to the new press secretary, Jacob #38, who has managed to bounce back after his premature elimination at Thursday evening’s Scripps National Spelling Bee.
Chattering Teeth News - Two seemingly unrelated stories from last week are apparently bound together after all, this reporter has learned speculated... made up.
First, we learned that former president Barack Obama was in seclusion on the island of Tetiaroa in the South Pacific to begin working on his memoir. The book deal is reportedly for $65Million for two books, one each from Barack and Michelle. Since no government buildings have been blown up on the island, we may assume that obama's former ghostwriter, Bill Ayers, is elsewhere and will not be writing this one.
While 3 books have been published under Barack Obama's moniker, this one will apparently be the first he will actually write. This is a risky move by the former president, as he has leaned heavily on his teleprompter and his ghostwriters for the last 8 years.
"The announcement came Friday, on National Crayon Day. The color has been a staple of Crayola's 24-pack for the last 27 years."
While you may have ignored this story completely, or simply gave it a "ho hum" and moved along - rest assured that this news sent SHOCKWAVES thru the obama's island compound, golf resort and bath house.
Think about it. If you were obama, what crayon color shows up best when writing on the tanned skin from aborted black baby fetuses? Dandelion yellow, of course! What? You don't really think he would approve of the chopping down of innocent trees to make paper for copies of his books, do you? Might as well use a true replenish able resource in ample supply during his 8 years.
Two priests decided to go to Hawaii on vacation. (source unknown)
They were determined to make this a real vacation by not wearing anything that would identify them as clergy. As soon as the plane landed they headed for a store and bought some really outrageous shorts, shirts, sandals, sunglasses, etc.
The next morning they went to the beach dressed in their ‘tourist’ garb. They were sitting on beach chairs, enjoying a drink, the sunshine and the scenery when a ‘drop dead gorgeous’ blonde in a topless bikini came walking straight towards them..They couldn’t help but stare. As the blonde passed them she smiled and said ‘Good Morning, Father ~ Good Morning, Father,’ nodding and addressing each of them individually, then she passed on by.
They were both stunned. How in the world did she know they were priests? So the next day, they went back to the store and bought even more outrageous outfits. These were so loud you could hear them before you even saw them! Once again, in their new attire, they settled down in their chairs to enjoy the sunshine. After a little while, the same gorgeous blonde, wearing a different colored topless bikini, taking her sweet time, came walking toward them. Again she nodded at each of them, and said ‘Good morning, Father ~ Good morning, Father,’ and started to walk away. One of the priests couldn’t stand it any longer and said, ‘Just a minute, young lady.’ ‘Yes, Father?’ ‘We are priests and proud of it, but I have to know, how in the world do you know we are priests, dressed as we are?’ She replied, 'Father, it’s me, — Sister Kathleen. ‘
I saw this on Facebook today and had to laugh. It brought back a memory from about 15 years ago. Fellas from the office would rotate hosting poker nights about once per month. One time when it was my friend Mark's turn, he stopped by my office the day of the card game to tell me that he had invited a mutual friend to the game. This was not that unusual, as our co-workers would sometimes have buddies show up for the game who did not work for the newspaper.
What made this a little different was the fact that Mark had invited our Catholic priest to the game, and he told me that "Fr X" wanted to be incognito and called by a fake first name. His reasoning was that he just wanted to play cards and be a regular fella for one night, and didn't want the other guys uncomfortable.
Since Mark and I were the only ones at the game who knew the guest was our local pastor, we were the only ones uncomfortable. I never realized just how blue and cringe-worthy some of the boy's stories would get after a few adult beverages. Of course, "Tony" took it in stride, and even cracked a smile a few times while sharing conspiratorial glances with us.
When told about this at a later date, some of the guys remembered wondering what was wrong with Jerry and why he acted so prudish all of the sudden. After that, none of the fellas went to any more card games 'topless' (as far as I know)...
Now we now that April wasn't really carrying a baby, since she called in Planned Pridehood and said she didn't want a baby after all, as it would cramp her lifestyle of wandering around in her small one bedroom condo pen. I don't want to "stick my neck out," but isn't it a little late for that? APRIL: April fools!! Of course my baby is real, and it's spectacular! What? Did you think I was some kind of monster?
