Loony Rants... Come on in!

Attam Sukkhar Fuck OFF!

Haha, I get it.
Now fuck off.
I have wrong numbers remittently for Attam Sukkhar on the cell phone. I am being fucked around in one of four ways.

A. I have a recycled number previously belonging to a a Pakistani, or perhaps somebody from The Middle Eats or Middle Asia. I’m not sure of the dialect, but from the messages I would guess the language is Arabic on the branch.

B. Some fuckers from some kind of Military, Paramilitary, or a Black Agency are fuckin’ with me and conducting counter espionage per the directions of some pentagon computer. O, Thank thee for thine protection, Homeland! You can’t elicit the illicit from the non-illicit, but if you try real hard by the sheer power of will and delusion you can illicit the elicit. Shit on the Constitution and you’ll have a handful of shit.

C. You fuckers are messin’ with my mind. (It’s a mess anyways.)

D. All of the above.

Multiple choice.

There is always…

E. Nigerian Scammers

Attam Sukkhar?

Adam Sucker?

A damn sucker?


“Hi, this is devilsknew’s answering machine. You know how to leave a message. If the Attorney General is listening, Mrs. Gonzales wants you to pick up some pastrami and a bottle of Cuervo on the way home. Or was it a loaf of bread and a bottle of Absolut? I can’t recall for sure. Nope, I just can’t recall.” beep/

I have a loony rant…
I post short stories in this one message board, and after working on a particularly long update that I had been toiling over to make it juuust right, RIGHT when I was about to finish the damn thing I accidentally clicked a button with my mouse. I frantically clicked the"back" button but it was no use. My story was gone. I was so pissed. From now one I’m going to copy/paste the text every 5 minutes just in case that happens again. Stupid fingers!

Not sure if this qualifies but I kind of Pit myself . . .

The lead case in my area of law is called Estelle v. Gamble. An actress named Estelle Getty was on The Golden Girls TV show a decade ago. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been talking about this case and have referred to it as Estelle v. Getty. I have no idea why my mind has decided to permanently confuse the case with the actress.

Perhaps it is a matter of deliberate indifference regarding the proper case name? Nothing to get locked up over unless we make a federal case of it!

OK, that’s enough of that.


Leeches are draining my spinal fluid.

The damn squirrels are stealing my food!

I leave the back door open, and the filthy little buggers climb up the fire escape, sneak into my house, and steal my crackers and eat my apples!

I’ll set traps the next time, I swear it! They will pay! Squirels are nothing but rats with good PR!

Back in the mid 80s, Polydor Records released a number of re-issues of rock albums from other companies on cassette. Among these was “The Best of Eric Burdon and the Animals Volume II.” This album was originally released in the 60s in both stereo and mono versions. I know 'cuz I had the original MGM stereo version.

The tape is mono. I understand a number of the other of these tape re-issues were mono.

Whisky tango foxtrot?

By the 80s all but the very cheapest tape machines were stereo. You would have had a hard time finding anybody with even the most casual interest in music who had sound equipment–be it compact shelf system or boom box–that wasn’t stereo.

Why in the world would anybody release a mono cassette in the 80s?

I could understand this if the original material was recorded in mono and there simply wasn’t a stereo original. A lot of pop stuff wasn’t recorded and/or mixed in stereo before stereo sound equipment became widely available in the consumer market, and this was true well into the 60s.

But this album had a stereo mix. If you’re going to go to all the trouble of re-issuing a stereo LP on tape, why not just go ahead and make it stereo? Were the original masters not available, and they figured the sound would be better in mono? Did they only have mono mixes to work with? If so, why wouldn’t MGM make the stereo mix available to Polydor for the re-issue?

And what kind of person worries about some very obscure tape re-issues from more than twenty years ago, particularly considering that audiotape is pretty much an obsolete format today anyway? And why would he spend a half an hour writing a rant about it?

(Don’t get me started about the radio messages from Tralfamadore I get on the fillings in my teeth–that’s really loonie … )

For years my brain has refused to permanently retain a few facts useful in my job.

For instance - Dutcher bodies, which are intranuclear inclusions typically found in malignant plasma cells. I can handily remember Russell bodies, which are intracytoplasmic inclusions, but never Dutcher bodies. Mrs. J. created a mnemonic to help me remember, but I forgot it too.

On the other hand, my brain happily accomodates the names of obscure baseball players, every word of the poem “Jabberwocky”, and replays popular songs I would not mind forgetting (today “Paradise By The Dashboard Light” is on continuous repeat, for which I blame Phil Rizzuto).

Tell me about it. Life sucks when I can’t seem to retain valuable things which might help either myself or others but know everything about Britney-fucking-Spear’s latest breakdown in spite of never actually reading an article about it and living in a whole-fucking-other-country and all. It’s like osmosis, but pushing out the good and replacing it with mindless pap.

Just to say, I sympathize.

Henceforth, all citizens who attempt to immigrate to the future will be forced to live in the here and the now. Modify your plans accordingly, or at least accordianly.

I have the same problem. They’re stealing the apples in my backyard right off the apple tree we’ve been carefully nurturing for several years. This is supposed to be our first harvest.

Go away you greedy vermin! I hope the green apples cause your little squirrel belly the world’s worst case of the runs.

Cite please (My guess is woody allen)

I got an ear infection. Painful, awkward and painful. Do I win?

It is painful too.

They won’t let me file the form 'cause I’m not in their system. They won’t enter me into their system until I’ve filed the form! Last week I snuck my form past a none-too-watchful desk clerk, but when I called to see if the form had been filed, they said there was a holdup – they couldn’t seem to find my record in the system.

Also, at night, the Bobbleheads come to life and play baseball in my living room. That’s fine, but Rush Limbaugh paid the pitchers to throw the game, and it’s hurting my property value. Last week I found a .22-caliber hole in one window and a teeny tiny package of steroids in the corner. I don’t expect you to walk, Mr. Bonds… I expect you to die.

Friend: Do you want to go looking at guinea pigs with me?
Me: Guine pigs? Why?
Friend: Windel needs company.
Me: Who’s Windel?
Friend: The guinea pig I adopted.

You’re my one of my oldest and dearest friends. STOP COLLECTING ANIMALS! You have three (big) dogs, 15 cats, 2 hamsters, 10 mice, and 2 tortoises. Now you want to add a couple of guinea pigs to this menagerie? What about your handicapped husband? Or the fact that your in the middle of moving across the state. Don’t get me started about all fucking junk you have been hoarding and insist on moving rather than throwing it out.

I miss you a lot, but I just can’t stand the mess anymore. Sorry, I won’t watch you get another creature.

This sounds like the makings of a fine research project.

Also, she’s right - guinea pigs need company.

Thank you. By the way, I have a great mnemonic that goes:

Portia’s toes, long and scaly
Have corns, terrible and tremendous

Now if I could only remember what that’s supposed to signify…

actually, it’s a mnemonic for the carpal bones, whose individual names I have not needed to remember for many years.

So, there’s this guy who has my first name as his last name. My email address is myfirstname@gmail.com, and I’ve had that email address for three years. The aforementioned guy seems to be laboring under the misapprehension that my email address is his email address. I keep getting notifications at my other email address that someone is attempting to retrieve my password, and I’ve suddenly begun receiving emails from this gentleman’s business associates and friends. I’ve replied to every one, stating that they need to tell Mr. Myfirstname that he needs to stop giving people my god damn donkey fucking email address, but alas, I keep getting emails.

Today, I received a request for sex from a man who claimed to be responding to my personal ad, which was apparently a request for “an additional sex partner.” It didn’t look like spam. So, I guess my email address is now up on a personals site. Fantastic.

I now know way too fucking much about Mr. Myfirstname, and I think I know who he is, because my first name isn’t a common last name, and I know his first name too, and a cursory Google search only comes up with one person by that name, and the city matches the city I suspect Mr. Myfirstname lives in. Assuming it’s the same man, I know where he works, and I’m very tempted to give him a call and tell him to get his own christing email address.

That’s pretty loony.