Catherine Seipp, Dead at Age 49

Here is the LA Times Obit

Double Dutch Doobies

Say you worked at the peanut butter cup factory and one day, while eating

in the cafeteria, you saw a sign that said "This is a peanut free zone". You

would probably think, if you allow the pun, that the folks in HR had gone

a little "nutty". Well, it appears the Danish authorities have been smoking

far too much of what their laws freely allow.

The Dutch Health Ministry, in their infinite Rastafarian wisdom, has

banned the smoking of tobacco products in marijuana bars. That's correct. You

can light up a fat doobie, suck on a bong all afternoon, or do hot knives

over a bowl of hutsput, but you can incur the wrath of the Dutch authorities if

you dare light up a Marlboro.

Wouldn't everyone just be too stoned too care? What would your excuse be?

"Honestly officer, these cigarettes are for personal use, I swear I only smoke weed"



Cordially

Joe Camel

Table For One

Those who are avid readers of my many literary incarnations, know

that while I am partial to timeless axioms, I am a most ardent detractor when it comes to cliches. That being said, I must admit that the cliche which states that "one should not air one's dirty laundry in public",

seems to be the only appropriate turn of phrase that can best preface a

post that talks about the aftermath of a break up.

I have once again, joined the ranks of the single. You know who you are.
You spent valentine's day at home avoiding the TV because every time
a news anchorman blathered on about roses and chocolates, it felt like
someone was impaling your heart with a searing butcher knife.

There is some good news to report from the field. Frozen turkey dinners
have improved, and actually have a passing resemblance to real turkey - unlike
their tin foil predecessors that looked like shoe insoles, and tasted like Melba toast
dipped in paint thinner. They also seemed to have decided to do away the customary
side dish of fifteen peas that looked like shriveled leprechaun testicles.

Fortunately, I have recently moved into more suitable accommodations, so I
am no longer a slave to the culinary abortions that you stick in the microwave.
I can actually cook a real meal that has not been prepared by some giant machine
run by that crazy robot from Logan's Run. Not that I've actually been motivated
to cook anything yet, as I have yet to return to the ranks of those who have good
taste and proper sleeping habits.

The worst thing you can do when your wading through the emotional soup
that is a break up, is actually start reading about what your going through. Take
this encouraging passage I found from a cold and clinical study I had found
perusing the Internet.

"After a divorce, and/or break up, single men often move to sparsely furnished
bachelor apartments, often spending hours staring at the fixed points on the wall,
or of old pictures of their loved one."

It's one thing to be alone and heart broken, it's another to feel like your the subject
of an episode of Wild Kingdom.

Like all things that hurt in life, it gets easier. I guess every relationship, when you are able
to look back with a less jaundiced eye, always feels like the first and the last. Not to
down play the significance of this one. It was one of the most meaningful 3 years of my
life, and I wouldn't change them for anything. Except maybe for a talking monkey that
drank brandy all day, but otherwise said nothing except to quote Calvin Coolidge when
the situation warranted it.

Cordially

Joe

I Want My Say Joe!!!

We finally have lift off of our comment section, with several Hype readers,
already weighing in. The new blogger format offers a lot of new features.
(no, there still is no free salad bar)

One of the features is comment moderation, as even I maintain some
degree of proper taste, and etiquette. You may have to wait a bit before your comment can be seen as it must first be checked for appropriateness, excessive profanity, and lice. (just like John Murtha).

By no means is this some jack-booted attempt to strangle your freedom of
expression, and I intend to leave most posts unedited. The only concern
I have is some wing-nut sprouting racist or anti-Semitic ranting that could offend
readers.

So feel free to question, challenge, or confront any of my blog posts. Be forewarned.
If you want to tango with me, you better be equal to the enterprise.

Cordially

Joe

Happy Blogging.

Tumour, or no Tumour?

Apperenty, it's common practice for emergency room doctors to inform
you that you have tumours in your chest, then quickly leave the room
before you can say, "did you just use the word 'tumours'...as in
plural"?

I guess they think it's more fun to diagnose patients in "Deal
or no Deal" style.


"Mr Leger. You have two painful lumps in your chest, we know they're
tumours, but we're not sure if it's serious. We've got your blood work
back, and we've got some ex-rays too. Now...Joe Leger...tumour, or no tumour?"

Good lord man. At least the reckless gambling junkies on Deal or No Deal,
get to pick out of silver cases. I got to pick between grape juice or ice chips
in a glass.

The ex-rays were a real blast. I had to lean forward while holding onto
a metal bar above my head, half bent over with my ass sticking out of my
hospital gown, while some guy was holding my hips from behind trying
to position me properly. It was like a bad scene from a prison movie.
I was praying he wasn't going to say; "I'm gonna make you squeal like a
pig boy."

Well, Arnold Schwarzenegger may have said "It's not a toooomar", but
in my case, it is. (Tumours , actually. So far, nothing
to worry about. (Oh, except for the fact that they're going to grow and
get really painful, and I won't know much else more for a while.)

That's my deal. I'm just hoping that whatever's my case is good news.

Cordially

Joe

The Whole Truth And Nuttin' But

Marcus Aurelius, the famed and infamous Roman Emperor once said;

“If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true do not say it.”

Sage advice, but in our clouded counter culture, where Bill Clinton
lowered the bar for honesty around the lowest mark of a drunken limbo
contest at a wedding reception, it seems that even the most ardent of
those who espouse the virtues of truth, and honour could feel somewhat muddled.

"Truth", should not have to have quotation marks, just like Paris Hilton
should not have to carry around a breathalyser to know she's a brainless
drunken tart. It should be a given that truth should always simply be the
truth, just like Paris Hilton should always be stinking of over-priced
Martinis - both are just a given.

Now if any of my liberal minded, hybrid car driving, Keith Olbermann
worshipping, readers are thinking this is going to be some dissertation
against the just struggle in Iraq, you've come to the wrong spot. I
believe President Bush is an honest man, who is fighting to protect
innocent Iraqi's who had been terrorized and murdered for over a decade
under Saddam Hussein, and continue to be terrorized and murdered by crazed
Jihadists who want to push forth their reign of genocide.

Anyway, we won't go there today. Like James Bowman noted about
honor its concept has changed through the ages, and the same can be said about truth.

Truth is not subjective, nor is it, as the simpleton's conventional wisdom
says, "in shades of grey". Truth is truth, or at least until the media gets
their nefarious little hands on it.

The trouble lies in whether we always need to know the truth, and in whether
knowing the truth benefits us in any way. The brain sucking pod people at
CNN and the rest of the media have created the fiction that "the people have
the right to know" - but do we really, or is that just a euphemism the
media uses to destroy lives, and spread political agendas.

But what about withholding the truth? Is it any less dishonest than
an outright lie? To lie by omission is to remain silent, withholding
the truth from someone else. Silence is deception in that it gives a
false impression to the person from whom the information is being withheld.

I suppose this post is cathartic for me tonight, and perhaps a little aimless,
like Lindsay Lohan at a petting zoo after a meth bender. My point, (and I do
have one), is this.


"If you truly want honesty, don't ask questions you don't really want the
answer to”

Cordially

Joe

Lala-Pelosi!

I am by no means a techno-phobe, nor do I suffer from any of the
crippling impairments to modern technology sometimes referred to
as "old fartedness", or "computer-ma-jiggy". I am, however, sometimes
inept when it comes to taking full advantage of all the benefits
that new technology offers. Case in point. The comment function,
which allows my loyal readers to wax philosophical on any of my
blog posts, had been inadvertently turned off since my blog's inception.

There are many reasons why this may have occurred, among them, but
not limited to, the vast quantities of nail polish I sniff at local
pharmacies as an inexpensive form of recreation.

Anyway, if you look just below any of my posts, you'll see the words
"comments". Just click on it and you can comment, rant, or send
a plenary indulgence to a special friend in need of a fast track
to salvation.

Interesting to note that Nancy Pelosi tried to sound like a blue dog democrat
in the opening session of what shall now forever be referred to as our
long descent into the abyss of hell, or the new Democratic controlled
house and senate. Unless a vast majority of the American public violently
smacked their heads trying to jimmy a free can of Fresca out of the pop
machine, it's unlikely that anyone will forget that Mizz Pelosi has voted
for virtually every spending bill, and tax increase that ever came up for
a vote on the floor.

Insiders are predicting that despite all her "Reagan come lately" rhetoric,
she intends to be beholden to the extreme, left-wing, elements of the party.
How extreme you ask? So extreme that sources are saying Charlie Rangell,
has been tasked with the job of reigning her in to the center should she stray off
into Howard Dean's fantasy land of lunacy. Now, for those of you who are
unfamiliar with the inside workings of the democratic party, Pelosi having
to be kept in check by the likes of Charlie Rangell, is a little like having
Mike Tyson keep an eye on Mel Gibson's drinking.

The folks down at NRO will
be keeping an eye on the first 100 days of the new congress. So will I.

Cordially

Happy New Year (and why Wolfe Blitzer should auction his kidney on EBay!)

Happy 2007, which aside from the Iraqi people's quick and efficient
dispatch of Saddam "soap on a rope" Hussein, arrived without so much
as a whimper. The most excitement was my rematch with yet another
gastro intestinal virus, which had me grasping both sides of the toilet
bowl, like a rodeo cowboy trying desperately not to be knocked off of
his bull.

Quite a contrast to the year 2000, or Y2K, when people where stocking
up on canned goods and flashlights, waiting for the count of 12:00, which
would set into motion a cataclysmic chain of events that would have planes
falling out of the sky, and computer's malfunctioning worldwide. Many people
thought that Jan 1st, 2000, would usher in the beginning of a new Mad-Max society
were we would be using rag torches for light, and weaker family members for food.
Nothing happened, which was a sad moment for those of us who thought the
micro chip implanted in Al Gore's head would explode like a scene in Scanners.
Of course, even if the apocalyptic prophesies had come true, Mr Gore's head
would have been quiet safe from combustion, as pressure cannot exist within
a vacuum.

No real resolutions on the table for '07, expect I pledge to do more stuff,
instead of just talking about doing stuff - like trying to persuade Wolfe
Blitzer to sell one of his kidney's on EBay, in a mad kidney for profit scheme.
I just have to convince Mr. Blitzer of the cash windfall that would result
in the auctioning of his kidney, and of course, convincing EBay of the short
sightedness of their policy restricting the sale of human organs.

A few predictions though.

1 - I predict the media will spend the early part of the year making the
bogus argument that the execution of Saddam Hussein sparked an up swell of
violence in the region. Like crazy jihadists need any more motivation
to kill American troops and slaughter innocent civilians.

2 - I predict that retro-packaging will be all the rave.

3 - I predict that James Bowman's "Honor A History" will
be a run-away best seller.

4 - I predict that after a string of financial misadventures, Wolfe Blitzer will see the brilliance
of my kidney for profit scheme, and pony up his kidney.

5- I predict Ace will do more blogging, and by a strange chain of events, become
a force in the tournament poker world.

6- I predict that my baby and I will set a wedding date and live happily ever after.

7 - I predict that toast will enjoy a brief re-resurgance in popularity as a mid-day snack option.

8 - I predict that The Straight Hype will be on everyone's bookmark list.

Happy New Year

Cordially

Joe

Merry Christmas From The Hype

Happy non-deist, pan-ethnic, global time of moral relativism - formerly known
as Christmas, and shall henceforth, be forever referred to as "the other, awful
C-word.".

I don't want to get into a 14 paragraph diatribe, trying to convince the people
who sniff glue and read Jimmy Carter books, that Christmas continues to be
under attack by the pod people at the ACLU, and the usual gang of bah-humbuggers.
As most people who work in office settings, or have children in school know,
Christmas is definitely the "holiday non grata".

Most of us have become accustomed to being asked, or ordered, to refrain
from any mention, or suggestion of Christmas, out of "respect" for those
who have different belief systems.

Let me say this so there is no ambiguity. When we coerce or force citizens
to refrain from showing symbols of Christmas, we are not respecting differing
belief systems-we are catering to their intolerance, and prejudices.

Anyway, I don't want to be a cranky curmudgeon on Christmas day. I ate so much
turkey last night, I thought someone would have to call Jerry Springer to
come saw a hole in the front of my house, and wheel me out on a fork lift.

Wishing you and your family a Merry Christmas, and a blessed holiday season.

Cordially

Joe

All Roads Lead To Friday

The weekend is upon us. Time to beckon your sommelier from the wine cellar,
and pick out the finest Macenudo from your humidor. Perhaps sit by a fire
and read a chapter from "God and Man at Yale". Or, if you're like me,
watch Cops while stuffing your face with Zesty Cheese Doritos.

Nothing too piquant to parlay to you this weekend. I have a rather lengthy
blog piece I'm working on regarding Quebec culture, or more precisely,
Quebec popular culture - so keep your eyes out for that.

On another note, the media's posthumous editorial castration of the newly
decomposing Mr Pinochet, wouldn't be so noteworthy, if it were not for the
gob-smacking hypocrisy, and the amped-up level of righteous indignation.
In the jaundiced eye of the far-left, there is but one standard for judging
evil, and that is being viewed by American conservative intellectuals
as having been a slightly more tolerable evil, than other evils. In the
eyes of the Keith Olbermann's of the world, there is no Gulag horrific enough
to shadow the horrors of having once had the marginal approval, of free market
reformers.

Anyway, tired of being a spectator? Want to be heard? Click on over to
Hype Nation,

Ghastly!

Cordially

Joe