Monday, June 30, 2008

The Fourth of July is almost here!!

And hospitals all over the country are getting their burn units ready! The good times are about to roll. Oh and my wife wont let our children get anywhere near fireworks. Want to know why? Because they have my DNA in them, that’s why. Let me hip you cool cats to some history.

As it draws closer and closer to the holiday we have noticed children playing with fireworks. First it was some kids throwing those little white paper things that pop when they hit something hard. That’s cute, little kids jump when they throw them at each others feet. One day we saw some kids who were throwing firecrackers at each other, my wife made a comment on how dangerous it was and I, without even realizing I did it, said “lightweights”. This is where I should have given myself temporary amnesia or something but NOOOO I couldn’t let me ego go unnoticed, I had to say something.

I don’t know how many of you know this, but I have a brother, an older brother. Not only is he older, he is six years older than I am. So yeah, we got into a lot of trouble as kids. You ever watch that cartoon “Pinky and the Brain”? Want to wager a bet as to who was who? So yeah, hell yeah, I got burn scars all over my body. Roman candle here, bottle rocket there and so on. You see, not only is my brother the brains in many of our operations, he and I both have my fathers DNA in us too and my dad was an extremist. For example, our pool only needed a ½ horsepower motor for the pump, but my dad had a 1 ½ hp motor put on it. (Can you hear the Tim the Toolman Taylor grunt? Agh agh agh, more power!!) At one point you could wakeboard in our pool from the jets. So yeah, we might tend to go overboard just a bit from time to time.

So anyway, back to why I should have kept my mouth shut. After I made my little comment I proceeded to tell my wife how when I was younger we used to have full on bottle rocket wars. There was one time that if you didn’t know better you would think that we were getting ready to go on a special ops mission to capture Castro ourselves. We had those brown paper grocery sacks full of fireworks (see going overboard comment above). If it exploded, we had it. If it flew AND exploded we had a lot of them. Then we put our game plan together. Not only did we shoot self propelled explosives at the neighbors (they shot back, its ok) we improvised some ourselves.

So there the Brain and I are, ready to release shock and awe on the neighborhood. The first part of the plan was the smoke screen, literally. We took a propane touch, which we used to light everything with, and lit the fuses on bags and bags of smoke bombs and throw them all up and down the street as close to the “enemy” as we could get them. You couldn’t see their house any more we had lit so many smoke bombs. Then we unleashed a barrage of roman candle fire upon them. But that just didn’t have the right kick, we need more firepower!! So we found a piece of metal fence post and used it as a bazooka. Yeah, there I am posed like one of those little green Army men, my brother behind me with the blow torch and dozens and dozens of bottle rockets. We didn’t even unwrap them, we just lit the whole damn thing and shoved them in the end of this pipe which I had aimed at the neighbors house. They never knew how many of what was coming at them, poor souls.

But it wasn’t just the bottle rocket wars, I couldn’t stop there. Once while at one of the neighborhood kids house I just happen to be in the process of sitting down on their porch when one of them light a bottle rocket that they were going to shoot across the front of the porch. Yeah, I timed it just right and caught right between my butt and the porch. I also have a really nice fireball shaped scar on my leg where, in the mist of a roman candle war where we were about 12 feet away from each other, I got shot in the leg and the fireball went into the top of my untied high top tennis shoe. Not only did it hit me in the leg, my shoe held it against my ankle. One of the kids across the street shot his brother in the chest with a whistler which blow his shirt to pieces and left him with some nice small burn marks.

So I may have ruined the Fourth of July and New Years for my kids.

Don’t get dead

Sometimes I worry about people …

… and sometimes I just don’t give a crap.

The other day as I was leaving my building I stopped to talk to a co-worker and we see a guy from our building walking by. No big deal, except we were there talking for several minutes and this guy walks by again, going to same direction.

So let me set the scene for you. It is Friday afternoon around 5:30 pm-ish or so, the mercury is touching triple digits, this guy is wearing khakis and a long sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed up above his elbows and hiking boots with more keys on his belt than Bookman the superintendent from “Good Times”. I tell you, this guy is “unique”. He often wears his camouflage fatigue jacket and these fingerless gloves. One time I thought he wore them when he works out and was on his way to the gym or something, nope, come to find out he is a “professional typist” (insert eye roll here). I guess typing with your fingers gives you calluses on your palms in crazy world. This is the guy that I vote most likely to go postal.

This is the guy who is screaming for someone to pay attention to him but has the personality of a hemorrhoid. He actually brought some piece of wooden crap into the office one day saying that he was going to meet with a “client” and they wanted to see some of his work. And he kept bragging about how it was “all hand made”. Well no joke. If I bought something like that and thought it came from a manufacturing plant I would wonder why the zoo was letting the animals design machinery to do wood working. Look me and my kids could make better looking furniture than this crap. But even if it was good, why bring it into the office? Truly sad.

So the third time or so that he walks by we jokingly ask him if he forgot where he parked and in a real pissy tone he tell us that he is “exercising” as he stopped to light another smoke. I am guessing that he is trying out of the dumbass Olympics or something because in my building is an air conditioned gym that is free. I guess Corky must like to smell like a fresh bowl of vomit.

I can see the wanting to get in some exercise but when you are doing so many unhealthy things in an effort to try to get healthy, aren’t you voiding any good that you could be doing? Yeah, you are getting some exercise by walking but I am sure that smoke you are having while walking is somewhat counterproductive to the walking. And why not wear something that won’t cause you to get heat stroke? Maybe it was a slow suicide or something. Or maybe he wanted a seat to himself on the bus or something.

Back to not caring now.

Don’t get dead

Friday, June 27, 2008


In case this link is a bit much to remember, there is what may be easier to remember URL that forwards to this blog. The URL is because it damn sure aint easy.

At some point I would like to do more with the page but I just don’t have time at this point.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Cell Phones and Dumbasses

How many times does some idiot have to say “Hello” until they realize that there is no one on the other end of the damn phone? I just witnessed someone say hello into a phone 17,323,793 times, each time saying it louder than the time before. Sometimes saying it so fast that even if there was someone there they would not have an opportunity to answer.

Here’s a free tip for you, pull the phone away from your head and see if it has the word “connected” or something that would indicate that you are actually on a call before you machinegun your greeting at near deafening volumes. That is unless you like making yourself out to be a complete tool, then carry on as you were.

If you really want to speak to the person, call them back. I don’t think there has been a cell phone made in the last couple of decades that didn’t have this nifty caller id feature. I know it’s crazy but since you looked it when just prior to flipping your phone open, how about calling that number back. I know it’s crazy but the person who answers just may be the one calling you!

And while I am on my little technology tirade if you are using your earpiece while yelling and holding your phone up about head high, just put the thing to your ear you moron. If you are holding the phone head hi and having to yell, isn’t that sort of defeating the purpose of the ear piece? I hope like hell you are not in charge of Government spending.

Oh, and I may be one of the last people on earth who has a home phone, so if you call me at home DO NOT TELL ME THAT I AM BREAKING UP, your phone is breaking up, my hard wired home phone does not break up.

Don’t get dead

Thursday, June 19, 2008

TV really sucks

As I have stated before, I don’t watch a lot of television. I simply don’t have time. I do good if I catch the news. So tonight I was taking a break from life and watching some TV both with and without my family. And I realized that most TV now is crap. Just about everything you see is either “reality” TV or it is a show from the past rehashed.

Think about it, American Idol and Country Idol or what ever the hell it is called is just a modern version of “The Gong Show” with a twist. And “America’s Got Talent”, well that is just “Real People” from the 80’s. This show that I got to watch part of tonight called “Fear Itself”, although a good show so far, looks an awful lot like “Quantum Leap” to me.

And if those weren’t bad enough, we have the new ”American Gladiators” with the Hulkster (LOL). Which is kind of a double rehash.

But fear not! We have reached what has got to be the bottom of the barrel with “Celebrity Family Feud”, yeah… it can’t get much worse than that. So it has to get better from here, right?

And I think it has started to get better. There is a show that I really like, at least the few times that I have been able to watch it. It is on the USA network and it is called “Burn Notice”. I can’t think of anything else that I have seen that it seems to be like. And there is a reality show coming up that looks like it should be good. It’s called “The Baby Borrowers” and it’s about teenagers taking care of babies. Even the network is advertising it as birth control. I imagine after this show, those kids wont even want to think about sex. I plan to TiVo it, haha.

Don’t get dead

How the times have not changed

I was hanging out and watching TV earlier with my kids, because I am cool like that. And as I was looking through the guide I saw that Scooby Doo was on, hell yeah that’s a classic. As we are watching it I noticed something that, something that happens on every episode.

Want to guess what it is? Nope, not old man Johnson trying to scare off the kids, not the Inn keeper wearing a mask, not even Shaggy saying Zoiks!

It is Velma loosing her glasses. That bitch looses her glasses on every episode. I have been watching Scooby Doo for at least 30 years and for 30 years this retard has been getting her glasses knocked off of her face and temporarily loosing them. You would think that in 30 years someone would have clued her into lasik or at the very least contacts. But NOOOO she has to keep those damn coke bottles.

You can tell that this is an older cartoon because there is no way that this would fly if this was a new show.

If this was a new show Velma would have lasik, the mystery machine would be a hydrid, Fred would be a metrosexual, Shaggy and Scooby would be hosting a reality show and Daphne would be in rehab.

Don’t get dead

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

The worst diet ever!

Earlier today I got a wild hair to check and see what was in my e-mails spam folder. I am sure that I am not alone in getting some of the weirdest stuff as spam. There are always credit report offers, you won some contest (that you didn’t sign up for), free gold, lost loved ones looking for you, prescription medicines on-line, work from home and of course penis enlarger e-mails. But today one jumped out at me because it was a bit different.

It was similar to several other spam e-mails that I have seen but was just a bit different. The subject of the e-mail was “SHED Up To 20LBS: FREE Trail” which seems like a pretty good deal right? I mean it would be nice to drop up to 20 pounds and if I didn’t and it didn’t cost me anything all the better! But there was something, something else that just seemed odd about this one. Oh, I see it now, the sender. Right there under the “From” column was who was sending me the very prestigious offer, it was from “COLON CURE!” I shit you not (pun intended).

So let’s think about this. Someone who is concerned about problems with my colon is also going to help me drop up to 20 pounds. I wonder what the connection is.

I mean I would like to drop 20 pounds. It is swimsuit season after all. So I HAD to open the e-mail!! What wonder of modern science was waiting for me in this e-mail!?

The first thing you see is this EXTREMELY happy looking couple with great big smiles on their face, wonder why they are so happy? Well what do you know? It is a pill that will help me “cleanse” my colon. No wonder they are so happy.

Let’s think about this shall we. If there is 20 pounds of shit in your colon and this wonder pill is going to help you rid yourself of it, one would imagine that you are going to spend a LOT of time on the toilet. So it wont matter what size those jeans are if they are going to be around your ankles all summer. Hell, I can wear a 25 inch waistband if they won’t get above my knees.

And if you have 20 pounds of crap in your colon, YOUR COLON, wouldn’t you have some sort of deformity or a hump on your side or something? I mean I don’t know exactly how big a normal colon is but I know how big 20 pounds of shit is and I am willing to bet I don’t have ANY organs that big!

And even if you don’t have the 20 pounds in your colon I guess I can see how you could loose up to 20 pounds as you will be RUNNING to the bathroom every few minutes while trying to lead a normal life. Start some laundry and trot your happy ass to the bathroom, come out, check some e-mail, jog back to the toilet, turn on the TV, SPRINT back to the can. A treadmill has nothing on this.

But there is more, the product is free. All I would have to do is to pay $3.95 for shipping and handling. This has got to be too good to be true! How in the world could someone GIVE AWAY this wonderful product? My guess is that it is made by the Charmin people or something. Seems like they would have a vested interest in getting this product out to the masses.

But I can’t leave off the attention getting graphics on the right side of this e-mail. From the top down they are read “Satisfaction Guaranteed or your Money Back!”. First off, you said it was a free trial, you going to send me my whopping $3.95 back for shipping? And secondly, I don’t think I would want to speak to anyone who had violated me like that. Keep the four bucks. Then down from that is “Purify, Cleanse, Look Better, Feel Better!”. No! I do not feel better when I am trying to push a side of beef out of my ass. Maybe after said side of beef has passed I will feel better but that would require surgery and pain killers. And who looks better after that? How bad do you look now that you will look “better” after you have just crapped a wombat? I think they mean you will look tired. But if this wasn’t enough, at the bottom there was a graphic that reads “New Year! New You! Get a flatter tummy and a cleaner, healthier body!”. New year? Bitch it’s the middle of June, you are just about as far away from a new year as you can get. Marketing geniuses I tell ya. And flatter tummy, how about concave tummy.

Don’t get dead

Monday, June 16, 2008

A Brand New Car!!

With the price of gas skyrocketing and showing no signs of slowing down, a lot of people are looking into buying new cars. What a Mammoth, royal pain in the ass this is. I have pissed off more car salesmen than George W. Bush has liberals. I just hate the games and I have a solution, I don’t haggle with them. And no, I am not stupid enough to pay their asking price. I just get tired of the time-wasting BS that you have to sit through, so I don’t let the salesmen be in control of the deal.

While buying a new car one time I let the salesman approach me and we begin the process. Of course he wanted to know what I had to trade in. To which I told him not to worry about that part until we agree on the price of the new car. He didn’t dig this but it’s my money, it’s my rules. So he ask me to come inside and let’s “run the numbers”. What he didn’t know was that I had done my research and had the deal cost & the invoice pricing with me. I also had dealer cost on all of the upgrades on the car.

So we are sitting at his desk and he is going through his typical line of BS which I let him finish. Again he tries to get my keys to see what my trade-in was worth. You know, to “speed up the process” while we are doing the paper work. Yeah, we aren’t going to do that until we agree on a price and I tell him that if you ask me for my keys again before we agree on the price that I will leave. I guess he understood because he had this dog with his tail between his legs look to him.

So we are sitting there and he tells me that the car cost $X and I tell him, “You know, that is more than the sticker price on the car right now” and he actually thinks that I am going to fall for this line of “Well the price I gave you is the MSRP and …” to which I tell him to “Stop right there, that is not MSRP, you need to go check your facts. The MSRP on this car is $X”. This guy is already pissing me off but I figure I will see what kind of deal we can work. So he says the words I was waiting to hear “we can probably come off of that a little bit, but I will have to go talk to my manager”. I love this, because this is when my method is the most effective. I looked him straight in the eye and tell him “You got one time, you tell your manager to come back with your best offer if it is in the price range that I am willing to pay we will do business, if not I will get out of your hair.” He has this puzzled look on his face and gets up and goes to the managers office for a few minutes. When he comes back he says we were able to get the car down to $X (not quite three hundred dollars under the sticker price). To which I thank him and tell him that I will be trying somewhere else. He is stumbling and mumbling like a fool and all but begging me to sit back down. “Mr. Sweezey, wait … Mr. Sweezey, let me go back and talk to him some more. Mr. Sweezey, come on now.” To which I told him, “What did I tell you? I told you that you had one shot and that was it, I don’t have time for you to go back and forth all day” He was trying to tell me how it was a negotiating process and blah blah blah. To which I replied that I don’t negotiate very well and that at this rate it was going to take a LONG time to get to the price I am willing to pay. After a brief conversation on the sales floor I busted out with the invoice pricing and the dealer cost which dumbfounded him. He looked at the prices and said “well yeah, those are right”. To which he said how about you sit back down and let talk some more? How about I bend over and you lick my butthole.

Before I could get to my car FOUR people came up to me pretty much begging me to stay and deal with them. I explained the way that I do business and that their salesmen wasn’t willing to work with me. Tah tah.

So I go to another dealership in the area and see the same car and start the processes again. I give the guy the low down that I gave the previous guy. Same song and dance, and I even told him, if you don’t think I will walk out on you give this guy a call and gave him the previous guys business card. So we are sitting there and I was just in a pissy mood so I cut to the chase and said to the guy “Look here is dealer cost, here is invice, and here is what I am willing to pay”.

Brace yourselves because this is about to get good.

The looks at me and says “Mr. Sweezey, you don’t want me to make any money on this deal?” I motion for him to come closers and I lean in over the table and tell him “I don’t give a f&$k if you make a penny on this deal.” I wish I had taken a picture of his expression. You would think that I just violated his mother in front of him.

But I will give him credit, he lasted longer than most of the others. So I give him the speech about having one chance with his manager and if we could make it work great and if not I was going to take off. He did well, he came back and was close to what I was willing to pay but I guess he thought he was going to test the waters with me a bit. By that I mean that I thanked him for his time and wished him good luck on selling that car to someone else. In a feverish rush he was working some numbers and said “Depending on your credit that is like $17 a month, would you really walk away from this deal for $17 a month? My reply to him was “Yep”.

Then this assmunch actually had the audacity to say to me “Come on, you got 17 extra dollars a month right” and told him “Not only do I have $17 a month, I will be keeping that $17 a month.” Again he says I can’t believe you would walk away from this deal over less than $20 a month. Mister, I will walk way from this deal over a quarter. Then he says it’s not really that much difference, hardly anything. So I say “Ok, you pay it then!” He didn’t like that option either. So I take off from this dealership. Sorry buddy but it’s not my problem that you made a piss-pour career choice.

Don’t get dead

Monday, June 09, 2008

Summer Fun

Ahh yes, school is out and the youth of America have gone wild. All is right in the world. But isn’t that what you are supposed to do when you are out of school for the summer?

I remember one summer when I lived in Tampa that I am surprised I lived thorough it. Not that I did anything all that dangerous (well not that relates to this story) but that I just did stupid shit. If being a moron wasn’t going to kill me, the punishment from my parents or my friend’s parents should have!

It was one of those nights where everyone told their parents they were spending the night at someone else’s house and we went out to pretty much be a menace to society. We didn’t do anything “all that bad”, not that we went out and built homeless shelters either. I mean who does construction at 2 in the morning, right?

I remember this one Saturday night so clearly. Me, George, Jamie and Scott were going to go to this party. We heard that there were supposed to be some girls from a different school there and we wanted to go check them out… oh and something about massive amounts of booze.

So there we are getting ready to go out when a bomb was dropped on us like we were in Hiroshima. Jamie’s mom, who was supposed to be out of town, was home. She wasn’t felling well and canceled a trip, that bitch! We wanted to go out and be hoodlums and she’s going to make us be half-way decent kids. We will see about this!

You see since Jamie’s mom was home, Jamie had to be home by midnight. And since we were going to take her car without her knowing it, with her home this was going to be quite a feat. Seeing as how the oldest one of us was probably around 15 we had pretty much blown right by the paddle store and was about to put the canoe into shit creek.

This would be when George and Scott had an idea, which is ALWAYS (repeat ALWAYS) dangerous. Since Jamie’s mom was not feeling well she was probably going to take some medicine to get some sleep… oh hell, I see where he is going with this. He continues with “She’ll be out cold. All we will have to do is push the car into and out of the driveway and we cool!” Sounds like a great idea right, at least on the surface. The jury is still out on if they are geniuses or madmen.

Scott even goes as far as to off to go ride his bike to the store to pick up some medicine if she needed it.

About 9 o’clock we say that we are going to watch a movie in the living room, this should pretty much force Jamie’s mom to go to bed. Which is all part of the master plan. So she retires to her room and we are watching the clock like we are waiting on the Governor to call with our stay of execution.

About 10:30 Jamie goes to check on his mom and says that she is out cold with the TV on. This is perfect, background noise!

We rush into Jamie’s room and change clothes while Jamie goes and gets the car keys. Finally about 11:00 we are all ready to go and we have the car keys, the car in the driveway, Jamie’s mom is just short of a medicated coma and we have background noise, what could go wrong?!

Out the window we go, Scott gets behind the wheel turns the key and puts the car in neutral. We push it out of the driveway. At this point we decided that this was too close to the house and that we needed to push it down the street just a bit, then we decided it was still to close and we push it a little farther. Jamie thinks we are still to close, Jamie’s ass got out voted this time. Hell, we might as well have pushed the car to the party if we kept going. So we fire up the car and off we go to this party.

It was a good party, lots of people there, music cranked up nice and loud and the cops came twice. Not to bad at all.

Now the party has wound down and it’s evident that it is time to go home. It’s not evident because people are leaving or because the cops told us to go home, it is evident because Jamie is pacing by the door like a puppy who needs to go outside and pee. He keeps on doing the head flinch then motioning to the door as if to say “Let’s get the hell out of here”. I am not sure, but I think he might have been nervous. Of course being the kind, passionate, caring people that we were we would hold up the keys to the car, jingle them, hold up a beer with our other hand, point to the beer and then point to girls. Jamie was PISSED! It was quite funny.

We finally give in and head home around 2:30 in the morning. The closer we got to Jamie’s neighborhood the more freaked out Jamie was getting. We wanted to give him a valium enema just so he would chill out.

So we get to the neighborhood and turned off the car to push it down the street and into the driveway. You know those neighborhoods where every third or fourth house looks alike? Well this was one of those neighborhoods. So we are pushing the car down the street just before 3 in the morning and with a bit of a buzz. If you have ever had to push a car before, you know that when you are tired it’s always easier to push it with your ass while you walk backwards, which is exactly what we are doing while Scott (who was the smallest of us) is steering the car. So Scott pulls into a driveway and we proceed to make our way back into the window of Jamie’s bedroom, me first. So I take the screen off and start to make my way into the house. At this point I stop and turn back to George and say “I think we are busted” which George answers with “Why?” and I said because Jamie’s mom put a lamp here. Jamie says “WHAT!?”

This is where the story gets interesting. Right after Jamie’s oh so nonchalant outburst I hear something in the room moving and it says “DADDY!” actually it yelled “DADDY!” It was a young, maybe 8 years old, African-American girl. Right after that, I see hallway lights coming on and this mountain of a man, who must have played on the offensive line for the Buccaneers, comes FLYING into the bedroom wielding a Louisville Slugger. So there I am pushing back against the window frame yelling “LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!” while Jamie, George and Scott are pushing me in yelling “GET IN!! GET IN!!” You know how people say if you are in certain situations that your adrenaline kicks in and you have super strength? Like a mom can pick up a car if her baby is trapped under it. That must have been what happened because I so how ended up falling out of the window and Canseco swung for the fences barely missing me and making confetti out of that lamp. I swear I could feel the breeze from that bat.

So yeah, we screamed like little girls. And then just hauled ass. At first, I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew that I was getting the hell out of there and hoping that I could outrun just one of them. Fortunately Kimbo Slice decided not to pursue us. Somehow we all ended up on the side of Jamie’s house out of breath and crouching down for some reason. Feverishly looking over our shoulders. George says “Damn that was close, but we are home now. Everything is cool” I hate to break it to ya there Einstein but Jamie’s moms car is parking down the street at Andre the Giants house and I will be dammed if I am going back for it tonight. To which George replied with “Oh, yeah, forgot about that” and Jamie let out a round of “OH SHIT!” over and over again, about 30 times in a row. Well nothing we can do about it now and we are damn sure busted so I am going to hop my happy ass into the right window and get some sleep, later fellas! Did I mention that Jamie is still freaking out and telling everyone how it was a bad idea? Yeah, he does that from all the time to all the time.

Bright and early the next morning Mr Giant comes pounding on the door and we all collectively answer the door. Our asses were puckered up so tight that we could have been a diamond factory. But we explained what happened to both Jamie’s mom and the Jolly Brown Giant and prepared ourselves for punishment like had never been seen before. I think I am still on restriction.

Lessons learned from this are Jamie is NEVER to be part of any secret or Governmental affairs, The game Password, Surprise Birthday parties, Charades or anything which requires someone to remain calm. Scott can’t tell the difference between shit and shinola. And George and I drink too much.

Don’t get dead

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Energy Crisis …. Solution!

You know how people say the best ideas are most often the simplest? This is true again. I have the solution to gas prices and energy cost as a whole. And the answer is right in front of our faces, so to speak. And this would make everyone happy. The environmentalist, the people who like their big SUVs, hell, maybe even truckers.

What we have to do is to find a way to liquefy methane. Yeah, farts and burps. Laugh all you want, but we all either have or know someone who has lit a fart. So methane is combustible, as in could be used in an internal combustion engine, yes? They can liquefy propane why not methane?

Think about it, an endless supply of free fuel. Hell, if you ask my wife, our house could be a filling station. Give me a six pack and a half dozen tacos from taco bell and I could fill an RV with no problem. So then we would have to do develop something to capture it in. Some sort funnel device or something I would guess and a bag or something to catch the “fuel” in, then you would take it to the liquefying plant and have them turn it into LM (Liquid Methane) for you to fuel your car or whatever off of. And just think about all of those cows. I heard someone say that cow flatulence was destroying the ozone. Now we capture that methane too! I will drive a car powered by cow fart if it is free. No problem!

There would be no drilling, not clearing of forest, no spills from tankers, no harming of animals, OPEC could kiss all of our asses, no dependency on foreign countries. And the damage to the ozone would slow down tremendously. Hell, if we develop the technology here and we don’t share it, the rest of the world might be dependant on us.

And if we do it right we could have liquefaction machines in our home, you would not have to leave home to fill up. You might even be able to fuel your own home. Fart heated water, burp fueled home electric plant. Use natural gas to cook with, now you can use cow fart, I mean LM gas. The possibilities are quite vast.

The exhaust might be a mother, but we could deal with it I am sure. Hell that might create more jobs, instead of catalytic converters, flatulence converters. Or maybe someone will develop an additive to make it smell better or not at all, like fabreeze. I see companies popping up all over the place.

The Gas-X and Bean-O companies may go out of business but that’s a topic for another time.

Yeah, I know, GENIUS! Off to the paten office.

Don’t get dead.
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