Alright Gottdammit! You want a blog war? You got a blog war.

Who's got the titanium testes to take Iowahawk head-on in an all-out, to-the-death, Texas-cage-match of hyphenated, literary martial arts?

'Tis I, Alppuccino. Yes.... the same Alppuccino who:
Took Cindy Sheehan to the mat with photos coupled with a mind-bending little twist on an already fairly funny credit card ad campaign.

THE Alppuccino who:
Uncovered the inherent gayness that permeates the seemier side of college football. Go Huskers! Hooray! Husk this, big fella. GET THAT FAGGOTY HUSKER AWAY FROM ME MORT!

The Alppuccino who, as Jesushadatatoo:
Reminded my loyal readership (17 lonely people strong), that the scrotum has taken a back seat to the more glamorous body parts for too long. Too long. Give the scrotum its due! If this country doesn't realize how important the scrotum is to our national security, I may have to tie my scrotum to the White House fence until someone pays attention. I'll go you one better. In January, I'll dip my nut-sack in tepid water and stick to the Capitol flag pole.


Would Iowahawk tie his bag to a fence to make a point? Not hardly (pause for laughter). He sits in his Chicago penthouse, smoking jacket neatly pressed, jewel-encrusted laptop glowing against his Wedgewood stem, half-filled with Cristal.

In the meat-market world of "come here often?" blogs, Iowahawk is the tall, confident, well-tanned bon vivant who has no problem picking you up and taking you back to his lair. Sure, he'll pleasure you comically as a patient and generous blogger, but after you've reached your peak of laughter and the moment wanes, he turns to you as he's closing the lavatory door and smirks, "I've got things to do. Put your serious face back on will you luv? You can show yourself out."

Don't worry, he'll call. (pause for laughter)

You hate him for using you like that. But you still walk by his place. "Maybe I'll run into him. I'll act like it was coincidence." "Who am I?!@?" "What am I doing here?"

But you've got to have that magic again. So you go back. "It's the same goddammed shit over and over again?!? I'm not doing this anymore!" But you can't help yourself.


You've got to realize that all Iowahawk wants is your laughter. He doesn't want to get serious. He doesn't care about your feelings


Look at him!.

Alppuccino will never let you down..

Think of Alppuccino as the Ernest Borgnine of the blog scene. Shy, loyal to a fault, needy
Maybe my words don't give you that same sensation, but you can learn to love me.



My words aren't handsome, with well-chiseled features. But then again, age will have less affect on them. Whereas, after a while, some of these pretty-boy bloggers' sentences will wrinkle up like a Champions Tour money leader after the Southern Swing.











So go out. Have a great time looking for what's been here all this time. But don't come crying to me when some slick-writing, Longfellow sticks his BIC round stic Grip right through your heart and leaves you alone to sort out your confusion.


Grow up.

Jackpot!!

Finally! Your son is worth more to you dead than alive.

Congrats.

She's everywhere you want to be

Gilligan hat: $7.99


Murder She Wrote topcoat:
$24.97(at Odd Lots)


Veteran sidekick (with pony-tail):
$30/hour (happy ending extra)


Son dying for country and giving mannish mother months of national coverage: Priceless

College Football IS Gay

Yeah, sure I said it. But leave it to Iowahawk to get all CSI on me and uncover my true meaning. Of course I was talking about all the joyous pageantry that goes along with that first fall chill that makes men cry out to no particular person "Man! this weather makes me want to put the pads on!"

Iowahawk knows that I was talking about grown men dressing up as corn cobs or other foods loaded with anti-oxidants and holding up big sound cones to their mouth and shouting "Go Redhawks - formerly Redskins! Go!"

I am - as you may or may not know - or care - a former collegiate gridironist and therefore I possess, nay am indoctrinated with, nay on the nay, am incarnate moral authority on the subject.

What I want to say is:

Let's get back to the real meaning of the word "Gay" with all its hidden pigskin usefulness. People, when you hear or think the word "Gay" please stop thinking of corn-holing or a couple of bearded guys trying to break the slobber meter on a passionate french kiss.

Let's retun to days past when a man's man would walk away from a tailgate party and exclaim, "Man! That was so gay! Can't wait for next week's gay tailgate party!"

Don't fight the thought - as your smushing your huge ass between the armrests of your primo stadium seat: "The atmosphere for this long awaited rivarly contest is totally gay."

Hold your head up proudly as you engage the concessionaire: "I'm feeling especially gay this Saturday afternoon. Put your biggest sausage between some fresh buns, my good man, and be nimble about it."

That's all I have to say.

Oh and Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is a fucking nut-job emeritus. Holy shit! What a fucking whacko-deuche-bag! (My apologies to the many fine American vaginal hygiene product companies)

What IS?

So does Clinton have a freckle on his wiener or not?

Should you really have that last Swiss Cake Roll?

Maybe I'll just have the pie.

Song of the Week

Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a man of stealth and hate
I’ve been around in the press this year
Share many a man’s soul and faith
I’ll consult with Jesus Christ
In my moments of doubt and pain
I’ll make damn sure that Ginsburg
Keeps her hands off fetal fate
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
Oh and judging you
Will be the nature of my game

I hung around in Birmingham
When I saw it was a time for a change
Drove the car for the protestors
Baby Killers screamed in vain
I put my stamp
On the Reagan camp
When the pro-life Moms
Threw their righteous bombs
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name,
Oh and judging you
Will be the nature of my game, oh yeah

I’ll watch with glee
While the R’s and D’s
Fight for months and days
Over Roe v Wade
I’ll shout it out,
With the last of the Kennedys
Suffer Schumer’s pap
And Pelosi’s rage
Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of stealth and hate
I’ll lay traps for evil-doers
Who pass Bills that help girls and gays
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
Oh and judging you
Will be the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s confusing you
Is from where the hell I came

Just as every Bush is a criminal
And all the liberals saints
As heads is tails
Just call me Scotus
’cause I’m in need of 30 states
So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I’ll lay your soul to waste, um yeah
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, um yeah
Oh and judging you
Will be the nature of my game, um mean it, get down

Everyone hold hands - It's prayer time with Pat

.............I'm feeling that there is a dictator out there who is oppressing his people. He is starving the children and raping the women. Please Heavenly Father, smite him like You've never smote anyone in Your life.

.............There is a Supreme Court Justice who is feeling ill. Please Lord, bring him home so that a new Justice may be appointed to do Your good work. Or just give the sick Justice the 'ole smitey smite.

.............Somewhere there is a former president (who likes an occasional "humsy daisy" from a chubby intern - and who among us doesn't?) - He's alone and afraid Father - smite him.

.............Ted Kennedy has to cross the street some time. I'll leave the traffic control to You Lord...........and happy smiting.

.............Lord, my paper boy couldn't hit my driveway with the paper if his life depended on it. If You smote him, I could just pry the morning news out of his cold dead fingers.

.............And we just ask you Father - there is a senator in West Virginia who's lost all control of his saliva - shouldn't he have been smitten by now?

.............Finally Lord, I humbly ask that You bring Your considerable power to bear on the IRS auditor who is in my office at this very moment. Smishizzle Fizzle.

In Your name we pray.

Welcome JHTatoo fans.

Come on in. Sit down. Man am I glad to be shed of the Jesushadatatoo name. For one thing I spelled Tattoo wrong and I dug in too deep to fix it. For another, I got tired of writing about scrotums, boners, farts, poop, scrotums and boners. And finally, Jesus came to me in a dream and I'll be goddammed if it wasn't a birthmark. Go figure.

This - Alppuccino - is a classy site so please, do that in the bathroom and get a Kleenex for God's sake!

This site, with its clean lines and trendy formatting, will be dedicated to answering life's toughest questions. First on the docket is a question from the Midwestern city of Columbus, Ohio:

If I want to be a "Major League Town" should I jump into this hockey thing?

I liked this one too

Wang Dang Sweet Pootang Christmas special scratched by CBS
Network seeking edgier fare for this year's Yuletide telethon.
Like a grouse falling to earth after being blasted by a 12 guage, the Motor City Madman's pet Christmas project has hit the cutting room floor of the CBS editing room.
"We liked everything about what Ted did in Wang Dang Sweet Pootang Christmas," says Luke Blintz, Co-assistant producer for CBS's Branch Office, Yuletide Broadcasting of Non-secular Entertainment or BOYBONE. "No one is disputing that Nuge can whip a crowd into a Christmas frenzy, but we're just moving in a different direction."
"We poured our heart and soul into this project," moans Copperhead Venom, spokesman for Nugent's Cat Scratch Holiday Productions, and personal hunting buddy of Ted's. "Years of work went into creating a gala special for the whole family." A sneak peek at the final cut revealed the stirring chanson - Great White Buffalo Christmas featuring the Madman fronting for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. As wholesome as throwing snowballs at oncoming traffic, guest-rocker Brett Michael late of Poison, provides the spine-chills with his Savior-flavored power ballad Every Rose has its Crown of Thorns. 80's hair band refugees couldn't maintain control of their eye makeup after hearing the song in focus groups.
Not to be pigeon-holed like so many other heavy-metal Christmas specials, WDSP Christmas stretches its legs with skits filled with hilarity and hi jinks. Highlighting the variety show humor is the pants-wetting, milk-through-the-nose-funny version of A Christmas Carol where Scrooge - played by veteran v-show mainstay Harvey Korman - finally gets his when Nugent, playing Tiny Tim, screeches "God bless us Mutha Fucka," and blows Ebeneezer's head clean off with his Browning over-and-under disguised as a crutch. A Curt Cobain video montage is used to depict the spirit of Christmas yet to come, providing an eerie and unsettling twist in this Dickensian rock out.
Outdoors men are favored with a little video eggnog when the folks at Ted's hunting preserve fit a 12-point white-tailed buck with a Santa hat and release it into a clearing where Nuge waits silently to give it a double-lung-er with a flaming arrow. Also, Ted cooks up some new Christmas traditions with his own recipes for gezbok and squirrel.
"What can I say?" muses Blintz on the untimely demise of Nugent's special. "The bar has been raised so high in the world of holiday programming that there would naturally be casualties." Along with the cornerstone programs that have anchored CBS's holiday line up for the last half century, some updated specials are in the offing for this Noel '04. Dan Rather weighs in with his politically insightful Twas the Night Before Christmas in Fallujah. Like a pit bull with a Bruno Magli, he asks Mookie al Satr the questions, and finds out what everyone wants to know about how he'll be spending his holidays this year. Also, Rather adds enough colorful nuggets of Bush-bashing in this 2-hour special to fill a fruitcake as big as his own head.
Rankin and Bass - masters of disproportionate puppet animation -resurface with a modern Christmas tale with a message - The Year Santa Quit Smoking. Pay close attention to the Heat Miser's triumphant return to television as he constantly serves Kringle double scotches and blows that smooth Carolina smoke in his face. Laugh out loud funny and if it saves one life it would not have been aired in vain.
The Olson Twins and Tracey Gold, former lightweight TV heavyweights, combine public service and Christmas cheer in The Magic Finger. It's a modern parable with a three wise-women wrinkle gifting the viewer with gold, frankincense and hurl. A must see for any confused pre-teen.
"Nugent wasn't the only one to feel the sting of competitive holiday programming," Blintz points out. "Even Walter Cronkite's Miracle on 34th Street: 100 Years of Reruns was bumped for Ashton Kuchar's sleigh ride through the airwaves - Getting My Trim on This Christmas."
Programming may change but the one holiday constant is that as long as one TV antenna glistens in the night like the Star of David, little kids will sit in front of their televisions, breathe through their mouths, and absorb all the Christmas mythology ignoring any doubts or questions. So keep trying Ted. Rudolf can't possibly keep his stranglehold on the children forever.

It's mine and it's a favorite

SAC in a Twist Over Housewives Episode
"This is going to set us back a decade," decries Ernest Bagley, president of the Scrotum Awareness Council or SAC. "We've spent years educating people about the importance of the scrotum, and for ABC to air such a detrimental view of what we consider to be the jewel-case of human reproduction - it's like a kick in the groin." Bagley is referring to the November 7 episode of Desperate Housewives in which Bree (played by Marcia Cross) claims to love everything about sex except for the scrotum.

"Why not just say you love everything about a Banana Split but the nuts? It's crazy. I can just picture the producer from ABC saying 'we need to work scrotum into an episode' and so the writers automatically make it a bad thing. Hell, I'd have taken Andy Sipowitz calling someone a 'scrotum-face' on NYPD Blue over this!"

Bagley's concerns stem from an already disadvantaged position in the highly competitive world of "body part awareness" organizations. "The penis people are going to dine out on this for weeks," Bagley moans. "You don't understand how hard it is. Oprah has had the breast people, the lung people, the heart people, even the penis people on her show. But she won't touch the scrotum. She tells us that they've done enough body parts and they want to move away from the more explicit areas due to FCC crackdowns. If you ask me, I'd say it's a severe lack of balls on their part that's caused them to back away ."

SAC was formed in 1972 as an off-shoot of an original 3-member group. A pair fell away from the original member of the then-called Scrotum Knowledge Reaching Out To Everyone or SKROTE. "There were a lot of philosophical differences in which direction we wanted to point this thing and in the end it got pretty hairy," explains Pete Fitzwell, the other charter member of SAC. "Another factor was the 'three is a crowd' problem. We've found that even with two, when things get down and dirty, you can still have one right on top of the other."

"We're bouncing around the idea of suing ABC for defamation to try and recoup some of the lost donations." Bagley isn't shy about calling people and asking them to think about their scrotum and give til it hurts, "It's not an easy sale - to get people to dig deep. We usually call around dinner time and no one wants to hear our dog and pony scrotum show."

"You have to have a pretty thick skin," adds Fitzwell. "And now December's coming and the donations will drop dramatically. It just naturally tightens up when the cold weather hits."

"But we've been in tighter places than this," says Bagley, "and we're gonna hang in there and ride this out. It'll take more than some chick on TV to break us apart."

Courage men....courage.

Signs

Both my "Bush/Cheney" signs were stolen right out of my yard the other day. As it turns out all the B/C sigs were stolen on our rural road while the one Kerry sign remains unmolested. I'm not smart enough to draw any conclusions and I don't want to make any wild accusations without all the facts.

I did put up a permanent sign on an iron post and then I left the family pitbull tied to it.

"He will personally bite off heads, ears, arms and legs of the sign stealers........... and if caught I will attach phone wires to their male genitalia and turn up the power" (provided they are male and they do have genitalia)

The beaming ray of light in this whole thing is this: If all Bush signs have been stolen and the 2 or 3 Kerry signs in the county remain, anyone with any common sense will know that an empty yard is the yard of a proud W supporter. I'd say our county shakes out at about 99.8% for Bush.