There is Plenty of I in Ream
I got nothing and I’m not in the mood to write. Yeah! But I’m still gonna do it anyway. Boo! You lose.
Memorandum to the Mole Men in my Head: Retreat! Fall back! We’re not taking this hill, boys. Not today. Retreat and live to fight another day!
In other words, I’m going back to my roots. I’m going to stay within the friendly confines of my wheelhouse. Stick to what I know best. Not venture too far hither and yon from ye olde bailiwick.
Here’s a hint: What blog should you be reading right now? Over there! Over there!
Let’s talk about #boss for a moment.
Boss is war and war is hell. Thus the myriad of odes to military sentiment I’ve mortared in your general direction.
I’ll graciously allow you a moment to find the nearest air sickness bag. This is not a subject for the weak or the flighty of stomach. If you suffer from IBS you should probably move along.
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Birthing some Romney “humor”
Source: LoneWolfMontana (Flickr). Click for original.
I like a good joke as much as the next loser. Of course, usually I am the next loser.
I ask you to consider the image on the right. Is it funny? This picture came up in an image search for the word “humor.” That means somebody out there thinks it is funny.
Humor is a lot like beauty, I think, in that it’s in the eye of the beholder. If your mother is currently in the back of the morgue with her ice cold dead body lying rigor mortis on a slab, I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that you might not think the sign is so funny. For the rest of us, however, the sign might be funny as fucking hell!
There’s one crucial ingredient about jokes and humor. Do you know what it is? Think hard. This isn’t a trick question.
Oh yeah. The shit has to be funny. Humor without funny isn’t humor at all. I know all about this. Not because I’m funny but because I strive for it and fail. That makes me a freakin’ expert.
But you know what’s way worse than not being funny? It’s using your non-funny as an lame excuse to attempt to get away with being an ass. Case in point: Willard “Mitt” Romney.
Why isn’t saying “It’s just a joke” a valid defense for spewing just about any old bullshit you want? I’m about to tell you why.
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Oh Willard! Where Art Thou?
Age of presidents when assuming office approximately follows a bell curve (mean age marked by red line). Source: Wikipedia
Psst. Don’t tell anyone, but I know a little something the Mitt Romney campaign doesn’t want a lot of people to know. And, unlike them, I have no scruples about sharing it.
The cat is old.
I don’t mean “old” in the sense that it’s time for the rockin’ chair. I mean “old” in presidential terms.
Willard Mitt Romney was born March 12, 1947. He’s 65 years old.
Look at the clues. Fact #1: His name is Willard. Normally at this point I’d say, “I rest my case.” But I want to blather on for a bit more.
Exclusive: Abyss scientists have calculated that the first name “Willard” ranked 124.8 in popularity in the United States during the years 1880 through 1946. Mitt’s parents, by selecting the name Willard, simply went along with a trend of the times.
Since Mitt was born, however, the name has taken a beating. The first name “Willard” has dropped in popularity to a whopping rank of 491.2. (Based on years 1947 through 1989, the last year for which data is available.)
No wonder he goes by the name Mitt. He single-handedly made the name uncool. (See below for the graph I made. The higher the bar, the less popular the ranking of the name.)
Keep reading for much much more exclusive presidential election coverage from the Abyss. Did I mention this coverage is exclusive? No one else would think up shit like this.
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Bat Shit Crazy
What? Two blog posts in the same week with a bad word in the title? What gives? Better click in to find out.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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