Archive for November, 2006
Odo the cat, my furry buddy, is dead.
Posted on November 26, 2006
Uncategorized
Odo was eleven years old. My wife bought him for me in 1995 as a small kitten, when we’d only been dating for about a year. He was my best furry buddy and a very unusual cat.
A sweetheart, a loving fellow who wanted to be friends with everyone and enjoyed being played with no matter how you wanted to do it. Back flips? He was game. Swing him round in a bag? Sounded like fun to Odo.
He was a loyal companion who came running when I called him, even if he had been sleeping in his favorite place. He slept under the sheets next to me, curled up in a ball or draped across me. He sat on the edge of the tub and batted at the rivulets of water from outside the curtain while I showered.
He was a clumsy, clownish oaf. He’d never even once in his life clawed or bit anyone. Happy-go-lucky, but quite the back-talker when scolded, he’d retreat muttering from a scolding to work his aggressions out on his latest scratching post.
As a young cat he taught himself to pee in the human toilette, which sounded clever until he started peeing in his water dish and then in the chrome burner cups of my electric stove. But that’s a story for later. Please, understand you will be subjected to at least one or two more posts about Odo, his life and his death.
You’ll probably not be interested, but its something I need to do. I miss Odo.
400 and the Random Crap Continues
Posted on November 21, 2006
Uncategorized
This is the 400th post for the SafeTinspector blog. A certain number of the preceding 399 posts were merely announcements and the last month or two have been a joint effort between Arthbard and myself. That leaves the lion’s share of the posts for which I continue to feel deep and abiding shame and regret. Read on to learn why–and how!–I intend to continue this longstanding tradition of uncomfortable twitching.
 A lady working at a mental health agency I frequent (in a professional capacity, I assure you) once confided in me that she routinely carried several dozen condoms and an equal number of dildos in her purse. Apparently she is responsible for training women on the safe use of condoms, penises and sex toys. Until that moment, I’d never really thought about the hygiene implications of sharing sex toys. But I was told that any disease a penis can carry can also hitch a ride on a semi-firm shaft of electric blue translucent polyurethane. It was then that I remembered my teenage years, during which I frequented an Italian barber (in a professional capacity, I assure you) to polish my flat-top. Vito kept his combs squeaky clean, and this memory provided me with the following ideal solution for toy sanitation. After removing your dildo from whichever oriface it might currently be lodged within, simply place it in a jar of Barbicide for no less than ten minutes before reuse1. Problem solved, and thank you SafeTinspector! |
 I’m a heavy-set fellow, and I’ve finally figured out why people prefer thin humans for mates and friends over fat people. Its a matter of softness.People are like like hair. When you group a bunch of thick, course humans together and then stroke them with your hand like a kitty-cat, you find that the group feels like wool, or perhaps a berber carpet. But when you group a bunch of thin, wispy people together they become fur. Very soft when you run your hands through them, like a silky-haired guinnea pig or well-brushed persian cat. Next time you see a bunch of thin people standing close to one another, run over and rub across the top of them with your face or arms and marvel at how soft and cuddly the crowd is. |
This is the third week that my laptop has been running SUSE Linux 10.1, and its quite nice, especially the amazing XGL 3-D desktop.
Linux is a community-based operating system, although SUSE is a corporate product currently owned by the venerable networking software company, Novell2. We here at SafeTinspector are excited to be on the periphery of the Linux movement. Speaking of community movements, meet the talented people behind SafeTinspector:
Happy 400th from the SafeTinspector staff and family
We all hope you enjoyed the 400th post of SafeTinspector (with ArthBard, a loosely affiliated rival group operating out of Sandusky, Ohio. Fuck them.) Come back any time.
1 – For speed and convenience, you may want to keep a rotation of several sex toys in the Barbicide jar at all times.
2 – SafeTinspector is ashamed to admit to being one of the last Novell experts in Southeast Michigan. Every day brings my value closer to that of a Taco Bell assistant night-manager’s helper.
Revenge Advice pt 2
Posted on November 18, 2006
Uncategorized
Dear SafeTinspector, my neighbor’s dog bit my husband’s hand and badly injured it. Even though they promised to help pay for the hospital bills, they have not. What should I do?
Sincerely,
Sherry Giggles1
Gods, what a frustrating situation. I think we’ve all been there before. Here’s how you handle it.
Visit your local pound and volunteer for cleaning duty. Hide a few pounds of dog poop somewhere on your person–I recommend ziplock bags under a pair of baggy pants. On the way home, buy a two-by-four, a set of barbeque skewers, a hack-saw, some construction paper, and one permanent marker.
That night, after your neighbors go to sleep, take the shit and smear it all over their car windows and also put a little in their mailbox. But save a few ounces for later!
Wait until morning. Watch their house carefully. They should eventually come out and see what you’ve done. As soon as you see them reacting to the dog crap, run up behind them with the two-by four and cave in the back of their skulls as quickly as possible.
Position them on the front lawn in a humorous cross-shaped formation and stuff the remainder of the dog crap into their mouths and down their pants.
Use the hack-saw to chop off their left hands and immediately impale them on the end of the barbeque skewers. Stick the other end of the skewers into the dirt by their feet so that the hands are sticking up in the air jauntily.
Use the permanant marker and write on the construction paper, “Hi! We’re the Poop Eaters. Thanks for Stopping By!” Do this twice.
Put these signs in the hands, making sure they are readable from the street.
Now don’t you feel better?
1 – The real story might just be found on some other blog entirely.
On Hooters and Lady Jane
Posted on November 11, 2006
Uncategorized
She just wants to cut your hair
Hooters, the American chain of restaurants famous for crop-tops and hot-pants, has finally spawned a logical successor. Why did it take so long to give scissors to the hot chicks?
First, lets talk about Hooters. Hooters was a stroke of genius. Make a bunch of shitty chicken, serve some watered down beer and questionable oysters, charge a premium and trust that you’ll never run out of business thanks to your not-so-secret double-barreled marketing weapons. Everything tastes better when served in hotpants. Are they good waitresses? As long as they’re good looking who gives a crap? Look at boobs, eat foods1.
In the Detroit area a franchise of hair salons employing the same brilliant concept as Hooters has begun opening locations with alarming frequency. These are Lady Jane’s Barbershops. The corporate web site seems to be down for the moment, (http://www.ladyjanebarbershop.com/) but if you need your hair shortened, and don’t mind sporting an erection whilst sitting in front of a lady wielding hinged cutlery, Lady Jane’s offers a compelling, unique and, above all, bankable experience. Are the stylists good at cutting hair? If I can alternately watch ESPN and gaze appreciatively at the cleavage of a young lady at the same time then I might not be so picky about my coiffure. Look at butts, get hair cuts2, right?
Sex will sell any service, even when sex isn’t the actual service in question. Heck, put sexy ladies in anti-sex public service ads and abstinence will soon be as popular as Dancing with the Stars. Masturbation even more-so. With this in mind I’ve got a few ideas to share with the world. Feel free to try any of these out, I won’t request royalties.
Bean Cunters Accounting Agency - They use the latest tax software, and they prove to be just as morally loose as they are fiscally conservative. You may not pass your next audit, but it’ll damn well have been worth it. Carry the one, baby!
Melons Massive Head Trauma Response Centers – A chain of neurosurgery centers staffed entirely by chikas calientes. Credentials be damned, you’ll be repeatedly beating yourself in the head with an aluminum baseball bat just for the chance to get phrenologized by a busty young pre-med. Or even a busty ex-Denny’s waitress who merely claims to be a pre-med. It doesn’t matter; titties make any injury easier to cope with. Learn to walk all over again while lear
Bang My Cans Trash Collectors - They smell ripe, they look all smudgy, they aren’t physically capable of lifting so much as a full bag of kitchen scraps–in fact, you’ll likely end up having to clean up after them–but the fact that their bare, grease-smudged breasts are perky in the autumn air makes it all completely groovy.
Frankly Furters Contract Consumers - With but a single phone call a pretty young lady will come directly to your home or place of business and eat a meal in front of you. That’s it. My best idea yet! If you give her a nice tip, she might even dribble barbecue sauce on her t-shirt–no touching!
Preach-A-Licious Gospel Gang – Ordained and anything but ordinary, these hotties will preach the gospel of Jesus’ salvation while bringing all their assets to the table–or should I say alter? You’ll go to hell with a smile, you sinning bastards. Open wide to receive the Host!
The Smiling Dead Funeral Home and River of the Dead Outfitters – This ethnic-themed chain of super sexy undertakers will embalm your dead relatives while wearing absolutely nothing but a strategically knotted plastic hose filled with formaldehyde. As an added bonus, they pose naked above the corpse of your loved one for the precise amount of time proscribed by Osirus prior to plunging their red-hot, razor-sharp daggers of Krullkrull into their sternum, thus releasing their soul to Anubis and the great beyond. And you get to watch! Boner!
Universe Exploders Nude Destructionettes – These hot chicks trigger the complete destruction of all mankind and the cosmos itself with their sheer hotness. Galaxies collapse, darken and snuff out with a satisfied whimper. Nothing remains except the sexy. This has happened multiple times before, we just can’t remember it due to the intervention of the…
Erotic Universe Erectors – Sporting an assortment of multidimensional, cosmic strap-ons, these incredibly sexy women bump, grind, and pout suggestively and, through the continuous and perky-nippled process of cosmic breast emanation, restore reality following each manifestation of the Destructionettes. Twice monthly the Erectors and the Destructionettes will stage an erotic display of entropy defying mutual pleasuring. An event not to be missed but, by the vagarities of time-stream manipulation, soon to be forgotten.
Eternal Dildo Celestial Warehouse – A storeroom existing just beyond the edge of tomorrow, holding nothing but assorted transcendant sex toys, and staffed by just about the hottest, barely-legal teens and pre-op transexuals which will ever coexist with our paniverse, who just want to
1 – Not really their slogan. I made it up. I got a million of ‘em. Look at Tits, Eat Shits. Look at Ass, Fry a Bass. Ogle girls, massage squirrels. Flirt with skirts, ketchup on your shirt. Uh… stalk a waitress, soak your matress?*
2 – Not as good as the Hooter’s tagline? Fine. Get a hard-on, get your hair-off… Stare at hairdressers, ejaculate in your pants… Um… Whatever. See if YOU can do better!
3 – Lebron James appears courtesy of Arthbard. Go Arth!
* – A million of them! I admit NOTHING!
Voting on Semantics
Posted on November 9, 2006
Uncategorized
There was an election a couple of days ago. I’m sure you noticed. I mean, you all voted, right? … Right?
Assuming you said yes, and assuming that you voted someplace in South Carolina, Arizona, Idaho, Colorado, South Dakota, Tennessee, Virginia, and/or Wisconsin, you might have noticed an innocuous little amendment concerning the proper definition of the word “marriage.”
Right-wingers have been fighting homosexuals for years. They fear a series of homosexual events starting with gay marriage and ending with the gay collapse of society. Here’s a detailed breakdown:
- Marriage of gay people.
- ???
- Collapse of society.
Okay, so a lot of liberals complain that step two has yet to be rigidly defined, but I mean, c’mon. That’s nitpicking. Stop dwelling on it.
Strangely enough, the right-wingers have had difficulty making their case to non-right-wingers. Religious arguments fail because, well, the founding fathers stupidly put an amendment in the Constitution creating a Separation of Church and State. Good one, founding fathers! This would have been so much easier if you guys hadn’t had the idiotic notion that people of different beliefs should receive equal treatment. Bastards!
Moral arguments, on the other hand, fail because, well, some reasonable people fail to see the moral dilemma. Gay people get married and, shock and horror, not-gay people go on about their everyday, not-gay lives as usual. Doesn’t actually seem to hurt anyone.
Legal arguments go nowhere. Without religion and moral crises, there seems little basis to justify the passing of an actual law.
But right-wingers are a clever lot, always on the lookout for loopholes. Take creationism. Can’t teach it in the classroom? No problem. Call it “Intelligent Design,” pretend it’s a science, and have another go at it. It’s not religion anymore. It’s a science. Based on … You know, scientific sciences and junk. So, it’s okay to teach in public schools now, Right?
So how to halt this dreadful “attack” on marriage? Easy. If an effective argument can’t be made on a religious, moral, or legal level, then modify it into an issue about … Vocabulary!
That’s right. They’re no longer trying to persecute gay people. They’re not forcing their own religious opinions onto the public at large. No, now they’re simply protecting the definition of the word from being altered. It isn’t that they’re hateful toward homosexuals, its just that homosexuality is technically incompatible with the word “marriage.”
Its all about the lexicography, baby!
And, no, it is not at all ironic that President Bush, of all people, is suddenly really concerned about the nation’s grammar. He has good reason, after all. You can’t have people going around changing the definitions of words willy-nilly. I mean … Ignore the fact that the definition of the word marriage varies wildly from place to place and culture to culture–not to mention that even within our society it depends greatly on what dictionary you happen to be looking at in the first place–it’s still … Y’know … Important and stuff. Old definitions are better. They should never change. With this in mind, I would like to reiterate a previously-voiced desire that we should all go back to using the word “faggot” to talk about bundles of sticks. It’s only fair.
But why stop, there? I say we take the language way back, and go all Canterbury Tales, man. I can’t wait for the amendment to change the spelling of “field” back to “feeld”!
On a non-satirical postscript for any homosexuals who happen to be reading: I’m very sorry that the so-called “marriage amendment” passed in my state. For what it’s worth, I voted against it. I did my part, man! So, I dunno … Maybe you need better marketing?
Anyway, better luck next time there’s an amendment targeting your people.
