Pud Pulling Nursing Home Residents

Today is Sunday. I type this in the morning hours because today is the day that Star (The Dog) and I go visit the less privileged among us.That's right, the nursing home. You know the place where productive members of society are dumped when they no longer prove to be one hundred percent useful. Your mom would baby set and then have your supper packaged up in Tupperware when you stopped by after work to pick up the little tykes. Or  because both parents are SO busy with school, ballgames, work, extramarital freaky geeky at work, etc. that grandpa runs by and does the yard work. But when the kids start to school the teachers are now the baby setters and granny isn't as needed. Her feelings are naturally hurt because she thinks she was used! So she stops cooking take-out. Bad decision granny! You've just oiled the skids to the hell that awaits, also known as "The Retirement Community". The talk begins among the old woman's (She's 67)  children. "You know, I worry about mom living by herself". The other kid(s) see where this is going and not wanting to be the one that gets stuck with maw maw, hedge their bets." You're right, she's been going down hill ever since dad died while weed-eating your yard". It all starts with an "Assisted living facility" (because mom deserves the best). Like an apartment where someone comes by to beat, no, I mean rape, no, no, comes by to check on grams every day.Her children then find out that granny's estate must pay for the "facility" and not the taxpayers. Grandmother's bank account is emptied with the quickness and real estate agents are on her house like a preacher on a free fried chicken!  Still, the cost of the "Assisted living facility" is more than the government (taxpayers) will fall for. The children, not wanting to be out any cash to help the person who gave birth to them, co-signed the note for their first house, and generally spent the most productive years of her life caring for some ingrates, look for cheap. So granny is down graded to nursing home ("She'll know people there")That's where Star (The Dog) comes in. Star is a miniature Australian Shepherd, full of kinetic energy like a leaf spring on a jacked up Jeep. She hits the door doing her whole body wag, shedding hair and dander to get these thankful folks' sinus' up and running again (pun unintended,but still welcome). She visits each and everyone for a brief second before moving on with someones I.V. bottle hung on her collar. We stay as long as I feel comfortable (about twelve minutes). That is all I can take of the weird dude with the large forehead hitting on me. He says "You need to go out with me sometime". And you need to sell some of that excess forehead space for local advertising. Earn some extra coin I think. Just before I build a shoe store in his ass, we are ushered out.
    On the drive home I recalled the special times I had with my own grandpa at the nursing home. He was a victim of Alzheimer's disease and had no idea who I was but that made it more fun for me. You see when people lose their minds they become another person entirely. Gramps became a sex fiend and rubbed one out day and night, day and night. As he puller his pud he would call out the name of my long dead granny."Ninny, Ninny", thinking he was making babies with his wife. "Ninny,Ninny !"He would cry out. I would encourage him."Hit it hard paw,paw. Hit it like you live!" Leaving, I would walk by the nurses station. They would stare at me with eyes narrowed to slits and I would give them one last Ricky-ism. "My grandfather needs a tissue" , I would say. More later CR copyright,cousinricky2010llC.

Terrorist Murder of Happy Days Stars

My wife loves reality shows,right now American Idol is on and Wanda Sikes is dispensing humor!HA!That's almost as funny as saying America Idol is dispensing talent!When I was growing up,critics derided Happy Days,with stars,Henry Winkler as Fonzie,Anson Williams as Potsie,both of whom were killed in an alleged spying mission over Canada,after their plane was shot down.A little known white separatist group calling themselves Monty Python,an ancient Gaelic term meaning flaccid penis,claimed responsibility.It was long suspected that they were insanely jealous of Happy Days' well written humor and spot on satire of current events.Ron Howard(Ritchie Cunningham)went on to write and star in such iconic hits as Star Wars,Pretty Woman,Titanic,E.T.,The Vagina Monologue,Forrest Gump,Saving Private Ryan,Water World,Dances With Wolves,Mad Max,Halloween,Blair Witch Project,Avatar,Alice in Wonderland,The Andy Griffith Show,Gone With The Wind,Scary Movie(s)1,2,3 ,and several other movies that the lying,thieving,hacks,The Wayans brothers said they wrote.The United States,fearing British entertainment terrorism,provided around the clock security for America's preeminent screen writer,bard,play write,director,and actor.Ron Howard is American entertainment.Once while working as a Walden Security guard I was on a UPS flight across the Pacific Ocean.Shackled to my arm was the only working manuscript of an unknown movie named Jurassic Park.Just before the plane was struck by lighting, Ron and a CIA agent named Tom Hanks,,jumped me in the cargo hold.During the struggle I cut the hydraulic line to the rudder and the plane started down.Ron and I struck a deal and using the only two parachutes on board,bailed out.We left Tom to go down alone on a deserted island and deliver a particularly nuanced performance in Castaway.Later as the Academy award winner in each category was announced and none were was named Tom or Ron,I bellowed "Who's your cousin!?" copyrighrcousinricky2010LLc.

4:20 and dead Dead Marley

It's 4:20.Do you know where your children are?Hope they're only toking dank.Not doing criminal activity.Like smoking scrub.Lord forbid!

2012 and those damn Mayans.

Today I tilled the garden with the MTD counter -rotating, rear tine tiller. It belongs to my brother but he brought it to my house and dumped it off after it caused him to need a knee replacement.That years garden cost him thirty thousand dollars.Then while he was convalescing,his wife decided to plow her flower patch, and the tiller pinned her against the house and broke a couple of ribs.That's how I inherited it. I am grateful....I think.I am typing this with one hand because, the tiller of certain hurt(TCH) hung on a root,lurched unexpectedly to the left and pulled my right arm out of socket.While I was flailing about in obvious pain the TCH saw it's chance to escape and tried to chew through the new fence.A family of city dwellers drove by, witnessed this scene and were frightened by it.They did not stop to help.They did speed away.Writhing about in agony,I finished turning the soil with my fore head.Thankfully Star(The Dog) saw what was happening and jumped on my back causing the shoulder and arm to pop back into alignment.The pain was subsided enough that I was able to guzzle some George Dickle Tennessee sipping whisky, further reducing the pain ,as well as reducing my ability to speak and type.Star(The Dog) is walking around my chair,concern written on her face. Puss (The Cat)has no such worries. She could care less about my well being.Puss(The Cat) is looking forward to 2012 and the end of the Mayan calender.She is hoping for the end of humanity just so I am killed .Puss(The Cat) wants only herself and my wife to remain alive.Kill them all except for one .Save the wife to pour the Kitten Chow.Many people are worried about the end of the Mayan calender.They say the Mayans predicted the end of the world,that they were geniuses.I say I am smarter than the Mayans.I am still here and they are history. HA! At least the anthropologists say they are extinct,for whatever that is worth.All the experts said the coelacanth was extinct.Native people along the coast of Africa have been catching them forever,although they said(and I quote)"They taste a little like fish".And the "experts" said the Ivory Billed Woodpecker was gone as well.HA HA! FOOLS!There's a nest,in a tree, right down the road at the Mayans house.That's right, there's a family of Mayans living in Haletown! They wear very bright and colorful clothing, and speak in an ancient dialect.None of us understand.When they are in a hurry they say pronto. When they are hungry they say burrito.When they are thirsty they say cervas.They are through with working in astronomy,they now are employed at Tennessee Galvanizing.The Italians running the place love the Mayans, because they don't complain about the poisonous fumes.When the the Mayans get sick they go to the county hospital for free care(because the Italians don't provide workers comp for Mayans)and the rest of us taxpayers are grateful to pay so the operators(Italians)can continue to live the life style they so richly deserve.It's free enterprise at it's best baby.No welfare. Give them a job ,then work them 'till they turn green from zinc poisoning,Goddamn it!If you can't keep up,crawl off and die,you worthless bastard.It's free enterprise.So you've ingested a few neurotoxins and now you've got a lazy eye and a full body twitch."We(and I quote)could deal with the eye,but the twitch angers the customers".There's aways another another Mayan at the door looking for work,because the people we elect are Pure Capitalists ! They say USA!USA!USA!Because that's what gets them re-elected!Simpletons will stock pile beans,bullets and band-aids and then vote for the same assholes ! 2012 will be the end of the world because a tribe of simple phucks, living in the jungle,sacrificing virgins,(we all know the bitches needed it) and worshiping the sun, were correct on the movement of the planets and the constellations !Right now the Mayans are paving the road in front of my house and I talk for a living.Who's the dumb ass?I ain't got a shovel in my hand! But it's probably a Freemason conspiracy right,you liberty loving bastards.Would that be the same Freemasons that signed the constitution that you hold so dear?The same people that helped shape the form of government that you now claim sole ownership to? Honestly, as I type this Tim Allen on Jimmy Kimmel live is poking fun of the masons.He Never WAS funny! Now the Mayans,who I've invited in from the road with a promise of a cervsa and a burrito,were impressed by the idiot tube.One tribal elder said(and I quote)"Fur Ma' pronto,Ces's hua cosuin" That's Mayan for "Get your preparations in order;food,guns,ammo,a bug out spot,and a water purification system,and hurry!Oh yeah.Who's your cousin!"copyrightcousinricky2010llc.NOTE: This blog was predicted by the Mayan.Research it at; Bolder :6, Stone:2578,Rock:445,Gravel:9,Pebble;20210.I ain't lying dude.Look it up bitch.It is written!

NASCAR gang wars

It's the weekend and Nascar time for the gear heads.Today's Nascar is packaged for mass consumption.Emotionally neutral drones driving 'round and 'round.Yawn.It wasn't always like that.Nascar drivers were the original gangstas.At the 1979 Daytona 500,which was the first time a Nascar race had been televised live from flag to flag,there was a brawl at the end of the race.Most of the nation was watching due to a huge snowstorm on the east coast. On the last lap,a bloods vs.crips turf war erupted. Cale(Switchblade) Yarbrough rolled up on Bobby(Big Moneys) Allison and began flashing gang signs.While looking for his handgun,Bobby's car wiggled, and he got into Cale. They both wrecked and began to gang bang on the back stretch. Bobby's posse arrived in the form of his bro. Donny.The 'banging spilled over to the pits and even an alleged drive-by on motor home row!While all this was taking place, Richard Petty, a known member of the Wu Tan Clan,drove to the win. As the five-oh restored order by laying a Rodney King style beat down on the homeys,Richard Petty was in the winners circle drinking a forty with the moneys and the honeys.A young driver from Owensboro Ky.(a well known entry point for international street gang members), by the name of Darrell Waltrip, was an emerging player in the 'hood,as the Nascar community was becoming to be known.Although Waltrip managed to keep his crew behind the scene for years,it came to light when he finally won the 1989 Daytona 500.The time had come for MS13 to assume their place along side the other gangs.With their driver (Waltrip) winning the prestigious race, MS13 had finally come of age.As if anyone needed any more proof of the total street gang take over of Nascar,one only needs to look at video of the after race celebration.Waltrip,with cap turned to the side, doing the Spanish gang's signature victory dance,the Icky shuffle.The gang affiliation in Nascar wasn't lost on the intelligence community and they had inserted counter OP's by the mid-seventy's.Rumored CIA double agent Dale Earnhardt and British SAS operative Bill Elliot began a back and forth win campaign,which eventually crippled the other crew's ability to secure sponsorship and thus their ability to rumble.By the turn of the new century, international intelligence agency's had so infiltrated the Nascar crews that racing was a bland,lifeless shell of it's former self. Drivers were afraid to call attention to themselves, lest they be injured or killed in a last lap "incident".The attention by the law enforcement community forced the gangs to the inter-cities,where the risks were much less ,as were the purses. NOTE! I offered up this hypothesis to CMT for their "20 Greatest Red Neck Moments II.Return Of The Neck! Although they video taped it(probably for the FBI) they declined to use it on air. As I was being shown the door I defiantly turned and grabbed my crouch and loudly proclaimed "Who's your cousin"? copyright 2010cousinrickyLLC

Peak oil and black rubber suits

A few years ago my wife and I,decided we, needed" to get more exercise". Actually I was getting plenty working as a union iron worker a.k.a.Whooping and Beating for a living.Anyway,we bought an Old Town canoe for only one thousand dollars US(plus tax).This was actually a good value as far as exercise equipment goes. We (wife) bought a treadmill,that had realistic terrain mapping and elevated the platform to simulate going uphill.You could pick a program for thousands of runs the world wide.Appalachian trail? Pick your section. Washington mall? Run it.Great Wall of China? Merely press the proper buttons. This treadmill had more computing power than NASA's Apollo program and they went to the FREAKING moon.She(we) paid more for a treadmill than I did for my first Harley and I've enjoyed that bike for more than thirty years!She used the machine religiously for nine days.Then it sat unused,sucking up clothes,books,shoes,dust and cob webs.Nothing could escape it,not even light.Like a black hole.I tried to sell it,no calls. Tried to give it to family and friends,got a good cussing.Finally I robbed it of it's computer,in case I ever want to build an intercontinental ballistic missile,and hauled the rest to the dump.Now for our new form of exercise,we put the high priced canoe into the Tennessee River and went paddling. And paddled and paddled and paddled some more.Our arms fell off and yet we were far,far,far away from our take out point.The next day I purchased a Honda outboard motor for only one thousand dollars US(plus tax).The thing about an outboard on a canoe is you can turn it off and paddle if you wish.Just like you could shut off the engine of your car and jump out and push,if you wish. Both are very good exercise. You push the car while the engines idles so your family can text in a climate controlled environment.{What ya doing}[dads pushing us in the car to save gas.LOL] {WTF}[old people;)Talk about a hybrid.As for the environment,I was all for it years ago .Before Greenpeace and Al Gore.In 1990 a company was going to build a pumped storage plant near me.Electricity doesn't get any cleaner than pumped storage.Briefly,you take the excess power generating capacity at night,use it to pump water into a man-made lake on the top of a mountain,then,during peak hours(like when real people wake up and cook breakfast and get ready to go to real jobs to produce a real product like razors{take a hint you skainking, skanks})the water is released to provide electricty.Commys...I mean Environmental Protesters ,came from everywhere in the country to picket,yet they called themselves Save the Tennessee Valley.We, the counter protesters,(union labor and locals) were ready to bust a few heads, I tell you.I fully expected them to roll up on recumbent bikes,at least drive an econo box car.They could easily be headed off at the pass and we could then muck up their heads really,really bad.NO.They were driving Range Rovers and Mercedes.One group,the enforcers,came in a jacked up four wheel drive 3/4 ton Suburban.They emerged from the giant SUV,staring blankly,pupils dilated from the chronic they wuz toking.These guys were running joke to the locals.They were tall,thin,wearing the stereo typical tie-died shirts and flip flop shoes,trying unsuccessfully,with a head toss,to throw the dread locks out of their eyes."Be like shooting fish in a barrel",said the carpenter next to me."It's 4.20,and it's time for me to take out Bob Marley ."said one of my friends(Who was pretty hip to current culture)of the only black guy among the throng of pasty white losers that had filed from the truck.The carpenter, bum rushed the bums, and a foot appearing from the hippy throng met him in mid stride.Just before his jaw got broken,the sandal flew off hippys foot and took out the cement finisher in front of me.Two for one ass kicking from the counter-culture.As the first wave of my pro-project peeps neared the hippys, said hippys fell to the ground and used their legs to cripple the on rushing hoard.This was the first exposure to mixed martial arts any of us had ever seen,and we were unprepared,to say the least.The project's planners,seeing the construction workers get their asses handed to them,said screw it.The hell with trying to plan for the future.The hell with peak oil.Let these near sighted morons(and their children) scrub around in the coming dark ages,burning the last tree for heat and light,like the long dead dummy's on Easter Island.We're outta here,we can make more money with a PCB incinerator at an intercity plant.Long story short;If you don't want a power plant built near you, quit using electricity!If you oppose that new land fill, start setting your garbage out back!You have a petition to keep that prison from being built only twenty miles away? Fine and dandy,let's not build any prisons!Put the criminals on the street!Save the tax payers a ton of money.I've got smoke poles;.40 .357.12 gauge. .30.06. Have you?No? Don't like guns? You think they should be outlawed?Good luck with all those newly released convicts running around looking for a buzz and and some quality time with a woman(your wife or daughter) or maybe a man (you), if all else fails.They've hit pooter before,dude.They've been in the joint!Al Gore won't get pounded like a cube steak.He lives in a gated mansion and has guards armed with government issued machine guns.When he talks of doing without(and that's what environmental responsibility boils down to,you doing without)he's not talking about his peer group,The Elites,he's talking about you and me.The Druid over at the Arch Druid Report http://www.thearchdruidreport.blogspot.com/ says, that we have burned through one billion years of fossilized sunlight(oil and coal) in about five generations!We are almost out of cheap energy (if you don't believe gas is cheap for the work it does,cut enough wood with an ax to equal the BTU's in a gallon of heating oil,or better yet push your Volvo the twenty-four miles a gallon of liquid sunshine would carry it).My environmental policy is for me to be comfortable.A riding mower to cut the non- native grass. A tiller to turn the soil.A Jeep and a four-wheeler to upset the delicate balance of nature out on the mountain.Two Harleys,one fuel injected and responsible,the other a rich running un-muffled(that's a word in Haletown)hydrocarbon spewing, ozone depleting,glacier melting,baby seal clubbing,machine of death!When the oil runs out,I'll be at Al Gore's house.I will stand out by the fence and watch the masses walk by,looking like something out of a Mad Max movie,only not as well dressed! You may not recognize Al,because I'll have him dressed in a black rubber suit with no ass in it.On his head will be a leather hood and in his mouth will be a red ball.He'll have on a spiked collar and I'll be be holding a log chain leash. Hopefully this scene will be repeated around America. Wall Street insiders,bankers,lawyers, politicians,turned into sex slaves.Abused and discarded. Just like they have done us!Standing there holding those leashes, collectively,as a single voice we will all ask"Who's your cousin"!!!!! copyright2010 cousinrickyLLC

Possum Stomp

Tax time,bitches.And I owe.No job,no prospects,no hope,no nothing.(Double negatives are acceptable in Haletown).My wife and I have -(had)-three income streams and we dutifully( Foolishly?)pay income taxes.I have to ask,"What Do They Want?What..do..they..want?Everything!I know people that hardly worked in'09,yet they seem to get by just fine.Now I learn they got a tax refund of up to five thousand dollars!It doesn't matter that they paid no taxes to begin with.China-Mart lobbied con-gress furiously for this,I'm pretty sure.The Democrats are desperately trying to buy votes to remain a majority after mid-term elections.Pelosi and Reed are frightened for their cushy appointments.(Pelosi and Reed,doesn't that roll off the tongue, kinda like when you puke after a weekend when your supposed to"Be off doing comedy" but in reality you've been delivering the old punch line to a cheap woman named Heather(Hillary?) and swilling cheap vodka named Heaven Hill).The Republicans,or Democrats, stand at the podium in their respective chambers and blast the other party knowing C-Span is capturing it all for the folks(fools) back home.We, whom they lovingly call the sheeple, buy it hook,line and smoking turd.Vote for us or the terrorist win.Vote for us or the bankers win.Politicians are like professional wrestlers,only twelve point five trillion times worse!($24.95 per ticket to see the main event compared to what the con-gress has allowed the Fed to saddle us with).With both there is a lot of rhetoric."I will destroy Rick Flare before he knows it,OWWWWWWW!""This bill will destroy America before you know it,OWWWWWWWWW"!John Morrison verses Chris Jericho on Friday night .Bob Coker verses anybody that doesn't have money, i.e.working people,on Monday morning.Then after demonizing the opposition,they adjourn,to a restaurant and/or bar, to eat a tax payer funded t-bone steak and propose a toast;To us,The Elite. Republican and Democrat but no Independents! They may vote for the people,except for Liberman, he's a whore also. At least with a wrestler you know where he stands.When he delivers a skull crushing punch,he stomps his foot on the mat for a sound effect,because no craniums were destroyed in the making of this match.Where do you think professional wrestling got the idea to be fake.That's right, con-gress.When I was a kid, Harry Thorten had a wrestling show on Saturday(Chattanooga ,Tennessee;WDEF TV).Three matches in all.Televised with free admission for studio audiences. The first match one tag team would win, then,predictably the other team would prevail,(sound familiar huh,huh, watch C-Span dumb ass)!The third and final showdown would erupt,chair whooping,card tables being crushed under a miscreant that really,really deserved it.(Exactly like the health care debate bill.)The third event inevitably ended in a draw.(Getting the pitcher[sic] now Skippy.)Harry would loudly proclaim,"Come to the Auditorium( and buy a ticket to this Private venue)and see the "Biggest card ever"!SEE,SEE,Politics and wrestling,the same! Need more proof?OK.Growing up my sister was a HUGE fan of a tag team named "The Hillbillys". Their claim to fame was a hold called the "possum stomp".The "Billy" would clamp his opponents head between his knees and jump up and down until the victims brain stem separates from the spinal cord.This was the appearance anyway. I'm sure that this particular move could have resulted in paralyzes or death had the hillbilly's wished.But it was only a show designed for the weak minded masses. After the crowd had left and the proceeds had been divided up, the combatants went to the nearest restaurant and/or bar, to eat a ticket buyer funded t-bone steak and propose a toast;To US.The Elite!That is all well and good to those of us that recognize these things for what they are.But my older sister (by eleven years) was and is,a believer.And a huge Hillbilly's fan.When I was six or seven,I shot my sisters cat with a stopper gun.Admittedly I had removed the suction cup from the dart,I was six(or seven)for God's sake.Anyway My sister grabbed me, stuck my head between her knees and began to possum stomp me. It appeared I wouldn't be completely dead before our mother returned from the store,so my sibling made her way across the kitchen floor. She never missed a "stomp" because that would have been a double dribble. She arrived at the cabinets and continued the "stomp", along with running my head into the said cabinets.And it wasn't fake.I was near death or at the very least facing life in a wheel chair,when my mom came home. Good old mom, she'll save me.Sure enough she said,"Linda quit that!"Thank God for my mom.Then she said, "Your going to ruin my cabinets with your brothers teeth!Here's a card table and a folding chair go play out side."As my eighteen year old Amazon sister drug me towards my death, I yelled defiantly "Who's your cousin!".cousinricky.llc.2010

T.V.Preachin

Last night I saw a man on t.v. preaching. His name was Rat Boberson,head of Praise The God, or P.T.G. foundation.They do some really good work but mainly in Africa for a small group of children.He wasn't trying to pull a fast one on ol' cuz or anything, I saw the kids.There wasn't many because he kept showing the same five or ten over and over.It may have been a representative sample.Maybe the others didn't come in because they hated flies.The sample group appeared to attract buzzing insects.It was annoying as hell to me. But not to the samples.They seemed to tolerate them well,the tiny wing beats a form of rudimentary h.v.a.c in the sub-Shara desert.After the clip had played and the voice over had faded,Rat's son Sham Boberson,overcome with emotion,was unable to read from the teleprompter.His dad seamlessly took over and with the skill of a seasoned car salesman(hmmmmm,what?)implored me personally to improve these children's lot.ME.He was staring intently at the camera,but with only one eye. The other one looked a little rummy,like he taken a good nip while they cut away to the video,or maybe tore up his Oxycontin patch and smoked it on a blunt.Maybe he needed to get high because he was annoyed also.I felt as if he was trying to look through that t.v. at me.I don't think he saw me because I was hiding. I'd peak around the door jam,glad he couldn't see through walls because I was on a web site called Hooters,Cooters and Pooters.Sham had regained his composure and he angled to set the hook.He said the Lord told him, to tell me, to give my money to them.(You'd think the Lord would know I was out of work).Yet,for a small sum each month I( and I presume a few million other bleeding hearts,but at the time it seemed I was the only one that he was speaking to)could save those children.How much I gave decided how many lived. Implied,but not spoken was also how many I, through pure stinginess would let die.They had cleverly setup a payment plan based on Olympic metals. Twenty bucks per month=Bronze.Fifty dollars=Silver. One hundred greenbacks=Gold. What a scam..I mean..Good idea.Your level of giving ties you with a recent media circus.Olympics on NBC 24/7.Look Josephine,we're silver medalist in the combine,and for only fifty dollars out of our measly pension.Which leaves us with twelve dollars discretionary spending after rent, electric,food and meds.We can't afford cable t.v. anymore.But that's OK because Rat and Sham Boberson's show,P.T.G. can be received free(HA!) from an antenna .I want to help the little chill'ens,but I won't commit to pay each month.Lord knows,I'm out of work myself.I figure enough people will step up monthly with food and water. What the little tike's need are some fly swats,maybe some Off. You can't enjoy a meal in peace with a fly blowing your eyes.As former President George W. Bush put it so succinctly. "We want to help our friends in Australia"(pssss, Mr. President It's Africa)" Oh yeah,(heeeheeeheeeheee),you people in Africa,by offering help,hope and advice.Help yourself to some of these free seeds,hope you can grow a garden and swat then damn flies off your freakin' faces!At least until the camera crew leaves. Christ!(Heeeeheeehee)Dick? DICK? Anybody seen my Dick?Karl Rove,would find me my Dick?(Heeeheeeheeee)"At which time Dick appeared from a porta-potti,still holding little Richard in his hand and looking directly into the camera said"Who's your cousin". copyright cousinricky2010

Homoerotic statues

Today I am going to attempt to cut a giant pine tree that's in the back yard.It is threatening to fall on my new fence so it must die.I'm not much of a woodsman,so it may take me out as well. Either way, damn tree,either way. If there are no more post on this site you'll know the tree prevailed,and in it's final act of defiance,killed your cousin.........One hour later. I'm back in from the yard and I may have chickened out on the tree cutting project.Just looking at the huge pine made my nuts shrivel up like raisins,only not as large and impressive.I'm not as brave as I let on to be, although I was fearless at one time.Walking the high iron,three hundred feet up on a beam eight inches wide. Dragging impacts,air hose,welding leads,and frightened apprentices from point to point.Connecting both ends and cutting the choker loose,bolt up,impact and weld the joints, before moving to the next.Damn I was good. The older I get the better I was.I'm still very brave when it comes to comedy.I'll lay into some gill breather in the front row at an Electric Cowboy in Texarkana without hesitation.That takes a big ol' set of pecans because a Cowboy crowd brings down the average intelligence a percentile point or two for the entire planet.When you have to explain a dick joke, all that is left is to get on an individual in the crowd. And with a Cowboy's clientele,picking on someone is painfully easy.Until you leave the club,then it's just painful.First comes the back-jump(those scenes on movies like Urban Cowboy where the combatants invite each other out with honor is a lie,these days it's all back-jumping and drive-bys)second comes the scrumbling(that's a word in Haletown)around on the ground.Then comes the part where Cousin Ricky realizes that he's about to get his ass whooped and he's forced to pull the Forty from the waist band of his Wrangler jeans(seventeen fifiy plus tax at China-Mart)and open fire.I didn't actually hit anyone.The first shot was at point blank range into Gill breath's girlfriends hairdo.The muzzle flash set the cheap dollar tree hairspray on fire and she lit up like a roman candle on a Micheal Jackson video! As aways,I use this distraction to escape.Then,on the drive home the next day, comes the inevitable call from THE BOOKER."You idiot!...Blaaaa..blaaaa..Only did twelve minutes of a fifty minute contract!...Blaaa...Blaaaaaa...Caused a fight...Blaa...blaaaa...Shot a woman's hair on fire.." This last rant made me chuckle,and I hardly ever chuckle.Shot a woman's hair on fire, I'll have to use that!" You think that's funny?"he said,"Well it's not!"In my mind I disagreed,Iknow funny,and that's funny as hell.A Booker by definition doesn't know funny.That's why they're a Booker!They didn't make it as a comic,because they weren't funny!He continued,"Furthermore,you wrecked the hotel(wasn't me, it was the hooker)emptied the mini bar(I was entertaining)and charged a hooker to our credit card number we left for your room!"( She was the entertainment.)"We're canceling your dates and replacing you with the Disingenuous Clown!" Then he hung up on me.This was,without a doubt,the proudest moment of my life! All my hard work had pail off.I had officially out partied the Clown.I am less responsible than the Disingenuous Clown,and the DC can throw down with the best of them.He's my hero and hero's are hard to find in this business,I tell you ! I was at a party at The Funniest Guy In America's house, and The Clown wrecked the place.Funny Guy made a pass at Clown and he retaliated with destruction on a grand scale.Of course I helped,I had to.To prove that I am NOT gay,I threw a homoerotic statue into the pool.....by grabbing the statue's pee pee.What does that say subconsciously?Was it a Freudian slip?I did not know that about me.Think I'll go play some football now.Throw the old pigskin around.And if I score I'll do a sweet touchdown dance by pretending to spank an imaginary team mate on his cute little butt while asking him"Who's your cousin"!!! copyright2010 cousinrickyLLC

Four days of Desperation

This unemployment scenario is not looking very viable.Don't get me wrong,I enjoy laying around all day in my boxers,the kids wailing for their pop tarts and listening to my wife gnash her teeth.She isn't angry,her teeth don't align properly due to affordable dentistry(i.e. none).When she eats it sounds like a DR Wood and Brush chipper. That's some good looking mulch your turning out honey.I now understand what millions of my fellow American have been going through these long,long months. The suffering of the masses since Wall Street bankers pulled off the largest raping and pillaging in the history of mankind, is unprecedented.Sure there was the Holocaust,The Roman Catholic Inquisitions,the Stalinist purges,the plagues(two of them,both red and black),Pol Pot and the killing fields,the Mongol invasion and the subsequent collapse of the Roman empire.Admittedly these were pretty bad,but I wasn't alive then so all that suffering combined can't compare to what I'm going through now.The savings account has been drained.I have maintenance issues with both cars and the house desperately needs a roof.When I was laid off last Wednesday,I knew it would soon get bad,I just didn't realize that it would only take four days for our total financial collapse.Oh, if only I could print money out of thin air like the Federal Reserve.I could postpone the day of reckoning until my grandchildren and their children were working.Those rubes could pay the bill for ol' dads irresponsibility.Damned rubes! That's what they get for being born.My wife(GASP!!) had to do her own nails.Times are hard when a deserving American can't afford the services of a third world immigrant.Next thing you know I won't be able to drop by Swan Therapy for my weekly Korean hand-j; I mean my deserving massage.Today on the way to the Aeropostale store at the mall my wife and children drove right by a Starbucks and didn't even stop!Did not stop! They feel they deserve a medal, and rightly so.Next week( or year, it'll take the bank a while to put a pitiful family out of their home,maybe even until 2012 when the Dem's lose the oval office, both Houses ,most Governorships and the union vote)we may be homeless.We'll be living under a car hood down by the creek, but we'll wearing designer clothes.They may be a little to big for us because we will have lost some weight,but it'll only make me more swagger bad, pants sagging ,cap aways turned towards the place we used to live.I'll have a grill made from an actual grill.And two nice Harley's.And tarps to cover the Harley's.They're iconic Americana(That's a phrase in Haletown)and deserve protection.And they're paid for!!!"Must have your priories in order or you will live in disorder."Cousin Ricky copyright2010. [My brand new quote for you dear readers]But back to this post.We need charity now,dammit! Like in'95 when a tornado hit Haletown.Budweiser in Cartersville GA. quit bottling beer and started bottling water for us survivors. There I was standing in the ruins of everything I owned,nay, everything I had ever owned.Wife missing. House gone.Garage in shambles with my recently completed custom Harley Davidson Super glide among the ruble.I was frantically searching the debris,like a crack smoker looking for a dropped crumb,not for my wife, but for one of the many firearms I used to own. So I could end it all,stop the suffering with a well placed gunshot. Then a beer truck began backing in.With the reassuring BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP of a backup alarm telling all within ear shot"It will be okay. Sure you've lost a wife, and your hog is destroyed,which is much,much worse.But we're here for you O tortured soul, with all the beer you care to drink.Get yer fill". Then when the local action news team shows up give them an Oscar nominated performance as soon as the lights go on. Turn on the water works,and not a little blubbering, about how you can't live without her. Of course you'll be talking about the bike, but it will make good T.V. May go national. But,just as you start getting ready,tears welling up, a snot bubble growing from one nostril for effect,the beer truck that you've recently based your new reality career on turns out to not contain beer! It has water!I don't want water! I've just lost everything, I want alcohol! I want to get ass dragging sub-soiling knee,walking drunk. You want to give out charity, give me beer,a hot wienie and a couple of blue tarpaulins.The next day I may take some of that water. To wash my goat stinking ass. While I shower I like to yell out "Who's your cousin".

Arrested for Sara Palin

Today,my wife informed me that we're short on money in checking. So I drag the Harley out and head off to the clinic to sell some bone marrow.There's a slight chance the procedure may cause leukemia,but that's a small price to pay for everyone in the family to have an i phone.They need the ability to talk,text,twitter,blog,surf,video,photo,edit,download,upload,file share,dial 411,or access GPS if they find themselves lost at Tractor Supply! A place they know nothing about because Tractor Supply sells stuff to work with. On the way home,I'm feeling a little weak because I have no white blood cells left.Everyone knows that when your white cell count gets low you are susceptible to opportunistic infection.A person needs antiseptic in this situation and the best antiseptic is alcohol and they sell copious quantities at The Bar. So I wheel in for a few dozen ice cold bottles of survival fluid.Many hours later,having taught my liver who the boss is,(boy I tell you), I knee walk to my motorcycle. To add to the challenge of making it home alive I had lost the use of the right side of my body. And the front tire is low of air.Really,really low.I quickly calculated my odds as exactly the same of me making a successful ascent of Mount Everest wearing a speedo, assisted by a three legged burro and a gay Sherpa guide named Limb Hung Lowe. Not too bad of odds when I considered the alternative, calling my wife for a ride, and having to listen to IT,.... all the way home! The loss of the use of my right arm proved to be problematic though,being the throttle is on that side of the handle bar.I cleverly solved the problem by using the throttle lock to set the R.P.M's to about 2000 then used the gearbox to determine the speed.It would have worked too, if it wasn't for that damn D.U.I checkpoint. I overshot the stop by a hundred yards. So what, I'm handicapped. The cop finally came panting up. I noticed he didn't have a neck,or a waist. What he did have was attitude. "You had a little trouble stopping didn't you buddy"? Sarcasm and sweat dripping from his words. " You think that was something just wait 'til you see me try to take off"! I retort. I thought that a small amount of brevity was called for here. I was wrong.The cop goes ballistic."Blaa...blaa....drunker than hell ...blaa..blaa....kill your stupid self..blaaaa...or someone else......".I feel myself coming down with leukemia.Stage one causes hallucinations and the cop is starting to look like Jabba the Hut.He has a leash made of chain and Sara Palin, dressed in a futuristic sex worker outfit, is on the other end.I jerk the leash from Jabba's hand and set Sara Palin free. "Run little tea bag girl". I scream. Then in a moment of lucidness(that's a word in Haletown)the cop is back,yelling "You never touch an officer"!He's missing a large portion of his shirt and I'm wearing his badge,but Sara Palin is free,....free to travel this great country of ours. Free to speak to patriots wearing powdered wigs and looking a lot like Paul Revere' brother Cletis Revere.Free to speak for a small phenomenal fee of course. Free to tea bag me any time she wishes! Any time she wishes! I'll drive to meet her.Anyway I type this from the drunk tank,using my i phone that I smuggled in my anus.Later, when I am placed in general population, I will trade Internet access for sex and cigarettes.I'll be like,Let me ride that donkey,donkey,donkey!Ride that donkey,donkey,donkey.Everybody scream,scream,scream. "Who's your cousin"

Time-Space Anomalies

• I am out of work, no day job, no comedy. I am trying to get some work done around my villa, Chateau De Poverty. Part of the roof is gone and we're living in the laundry room under a mound of clothes cast off  at Goodwill by them upper middle class Americans (some that still have the original tags attached). God bless you spend thrift Americans. Although you suspect your pension and 401(k) and social security and retirement have been looted by lawyers, bankers and their whore politicians, you still buy ,buy, buy. Then in a moment of Christian charity you'll dump the excess at the donation drop off. You will collect a receipt for income tax purposes. Hopefully there will be a tidy refund to spend at China-Mart. Buy the family more products made from powdered lead, friable asbestos, melamine, coal tar, PCB's and radioactive uranium tailing's encapsulated in a fine wood-like veneer. Yet little Johnny can't learn! His head is twice the size of his paw-paw's and his eyes are so far apart he looks like a hammerhead shark! He can't see to light his cigarette. The Elephant man's saying,"Damn that boy's ugly!

  Anyway, the point of this post is to tell about my fencing job .I need a fence to keep the dogs contained. My dogs, individually, are rather benign. Collectively they are a killing machine.I was finishing up the last small section of wire,when the water meter guy saunters up, dead lice falling off of him as he walks.The dogs can smell public employee, and it infuriates them. The ten dollar a month maintenance fee added onto the already steep bill only fueled their rage. The canines launch like the space shuttle. I watch in amazement as the meter reader, who could soak up a forty hour work week and never put down his coffee cup, beat the dogs to his truck. He must have altered the time-space continuum. He was still reading the meter while the truck was driving away with him at the wheel. Confused I tried to call the dogs off. "Kill! Kill!" I yelled. Again and again I begged the dogs to come inside and leave the public employee alone ."Kill!"  Old Missy, just gave up and  licked her butt as a consultation prize. The other dog, Star, having in a prior life been a service animal to theoretical physicist Steven Hawkin, knew how to fold space and was waiting at the truck for the meter reader when he got there. She now has a good job with the city (and benefits). It's saving me a bunch on Front line and Heartguard and has generated another income stream. More later CR 

Dick's Sock

Today, I was clearing out my comedy travel bag. Washing the stankin' stuff that has laid in my bag since last weeks Buford (Ga) gig.Seven days ago,I had worked all day at my ironworking job,and drove four hours to the hotel.It should have taken half that,but Buford has become a suburb of Alanta.It's sixty miles away,yet it has Lake Lanier.That is Alanta's water source. It took me one hour and twenty minutes to drive the last eight miles.I was in a hurry to get a shower and get to the Buford Varity Theater.Whilst(thats a word in Haletown) inserting my room card in the door lock,Ben Rothelsburger(still sporting wood from his last alledged sexual assault) stopped by to offer a helping hand."I'm not a NFL center and that's not a football Big Ben,"I say. I go to pull my legally permited and constitutionly protected,forty calibur smoke pole so I can kill Mr. Gropemister.By now his attention has been diverted by a hotel employee, a lovely Indian woman with a goat stinking ass,and I was able to escape without murdering (and robbing)Ben.I really wanted the super bowl ring,(that was bumping off my balls), and I would have disposed of his body in the water supply of millions of Falcon fans. Best water they would have ever had. Winner Water. Get you some.Dirty bird! Anyway,as I was washing my stuff I realized I had left one new high dollar Under Armor sock behind. A five dollar sock.I was pissed. My wife said look at the bright side,that if I lose a leg in a motorcycle wreck I'll have a sock,provided the other foot isn't mangled too bad . I just went with it,I said,"If it gets cold I can wear the sock on my pecker". My wife said,"'You can donate the excess sock for a few hundred head bands to poor children playing basketball." Moral of this story; If you are on a play ground in the Atlanta area and the sweat running in your face starts to smell like goob,remember me. Who's your cousin!