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Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Handwriting - A Cranky re-run


I thought my handwriting was awful.  Mrs. Cranky’s writing is even worse.  If it were not for computers and keyboards our only means of communication would be verbal.

Handwriting used to be really important.  Handwriting was a graded course from first through third grade.  We first learned printing and then moved on to script, or what we called longhand and is now called cursive.  Longhand was tough for me.  It was not until second grade that I was allowed to write between two lines instead of three.  This used to be a big deal.  The paper we used was yellow lined paper.  It had no margins, and was so cheap that there were tiny wood chunks of still unprocessed paper scattered throughout the writing surface.  Writing between only two lines reduced the chances of having to run your pencil point into a wood chunk.

I write left handed so I faced the problem of following my writing with my palm and smudging everything I wrote.  Fortunately my teacher showed me how to slant the paper so that I could write and avoid smudging.  It was not many years before I hit First grade that teachers would have tied my left hand behind my back and forced me to learn to write with my right hand.  Slanting the paper was a better solution.  I’m not sure, but I think John Wayne Gacy was forced to write with his right hand in this way (giyp).

Mrs. Cranky went to a Catholic school.  I do not know how she survived with her handwriting.  Catholic school was notorious for placing extraordinary importance on handwriting.  I think it was a holdover from the monks having to copy The Bible calligraphically.

Mrs. Cranky’s handwriting is so bad that I can hardly read her chicken scratch.  If I go grocery shopping with her list I have to question her before I leave.

“What is totly parpy?”

“Wait, let me see….TOILET PAPER!”

“What the hell is eng murphies?”

“That’s ENGLISH MUFFINS!.....jerk.”

“What is Tkr sauce?”


Sometimes she is stumped by her own writing.

“Ok I give up, what is kprglibnk?”

“What?  Give me that……..shit, I don’t know….buy something that starts with a K…..and you’re still a jerk! 

Monday, October 29, 2012


It's Sunday+1, time for last weeks stupid headlines and my stupider sophmoric and sometimes offensive comments.

 Italian court convicts 7 scientists for failing to predict earthquake – Italian Universities expect to graduate ZERO seismologists this year.

US scientists successfully make embryos with 2 women, 1 man – Science accomplishes what Charlie Sheen could not.

Shark Falls from Sky Onto Golf Course Greg Norman makes most spectacular entrance ever!

Obama returns to homestate to cast his ballot Exit poll in Hawaii currently has it Obama-1 Romney-0

Toxic cloud forces thousands in southeast Texas to stay indoors – Bubba’s House of Burritos is blamed.

Meth addict accused in burglary sues 90-year-old homeowner shot in jaw –“Like Dude…where’s my constitutional right to shoot old people in the face…Damn…she shot me back…I want me some money!”

Fla. teen injured while trying to jump over a moving car for football recruiting video – Note to teen: You rarely need to jump a moving car in a football game.  

Truck runs over sunbathing reality star’s head Air pressure saves air-head.

New York doctor not liable for patient who caught on fire during cesarean section delivery – Doctor claims the new procedure is actually called a Neroean section.

Study: Quitting smoking before 30 increases women’s lifespan – The study does not specify when women should start smoking in order to gain the benefits of quitting before 30.
Good luck too all on the east coast, and may God protect our Jersey Shore!

BOB ROSS - A Cranky re-run

 The Google page reminds me that today is the 70 birthday of Bob Ross, so I am re-runing my post from last year honoring this American painting icon. His TV show made me not just accept people who were a bit “different”, but also taught me to appreciate and embrace their uniqueness. 
Bob Ross was nothing if not unique! 




Do you remember Bob Ross?  Bob Ross was that painter dude on PBS. It’s OK; you can admit you watched him.  It turns out there were many closet Bob Ross fans.  Bob was boring, boring, boring.  And yet when he was on, you could not change the channel.  His quiet demeanor and slow delivery was hypnotic.

Bob Ross finished a painting on every show in under an hour.  His style was deliberate, slow and calm.  The result was quick and amazing.  I guess his paintings were not museum quality works of art, but his TV style was classic.  He taught his technique as he painted.  Every step of the way it looked as if he would take a nice painting and ruin it, but every change was an eye opening improvement.

Not happy with a beautiful stream, Bob had to add some trees. 

“I think I’ll add some trees here, you can too if you want.  It’s your world; you can put them where ever you want.  There that’s nice.  Over here perhaps some bushes.  I think a little grass would be growing around the bushes, and right by the stream I think I see some happy little cat tails.”  As easy as Bob stated what he saw, it was on the canvas. 

Bob used a different brush for each of his special effects; instant leaves, snow on tree limbs, dead branches and more.  He didn’t just mix any colors; it would be “titanium white”, or “cadmium red”, “burnt siena,” “yellow ochre”, and “midnight black”.

The move that impressed me the most was the reflection on the water trick.  Bob had his lake and his trees on the bank, now he needed the trees to reflect on the water.  Grabbing a dry fan brush, Bob drew the brush quickly over the trees down across the water and created a perfect reflection in seconds.  “No FUCKING WAY,” I would respond to this move no matter how many times I witnessed his technique.  If this was not enough, Bob would then step back and look at his world on the canvas and say, “I think there is a little breeze today.”  He then cleaned and dried his fan brush and stroked sideways with a slight wiggle across the water and the perfect reflection was now a slightly distorted reflection representing the ripples on the water that a slight breeze would cause.

Bob Ross was not a master painter.  I don’t believe his works sell for large sums of money.  Maybe that’s because he could create a beautiful landscape in less than an hour.  There must be thousands of Bob Ross originals in circulation.

I think the man was a genius!  He would capture my attention for an hour, even though I had no real interest in painting.  I thought I was the only one who appreciated Bob Ross.  I never mentioned to any one that I watched his show.  I never knew there were other Bob Ross fans.

Bob Ross died in 1995 from lymphoma.  He was only 52 years old.  When I learned of his passing, I mentioned to several people that I missed this strange artist.  He had a fluffy afro hairdo, a full beard, and he sounded like Mr. Rodgers as he painted.  “Oh yeah, you mean Bob Ross.”  Was the inevitable reply.  “He was great, I watched him all the time.”  Apparently there were millions of Bob Ross fans.  I am no longer ashamed to admit I could not change the channel when he was doing his thing.

I miss you Bob.  I think I’ll put a tree over here, it’s my world I can put it where ever I want.  Maybe, just maybe there is a little stream running happily through the trees!  I never saw these things before, thanks Bob, for pointing them out.  

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Putting Down An Old Friend

Putting Down An Old Friend
My daughter lost an old friend today.  I think she knew it was coming.  Chester had lost his hearing and sometimes the control of his body.  He was a sweetheart and I know she held out as long as she could before putting him down.  There comes a time when an old friend is just in so much pain that you have to end it. 

Chester was a Springer Spaniel.  He was a beautiful dog with a wonderful disposition.  He grew up with three of my grandchildren and was their protector and companion.  I am sure they are very sad. 

My daughter has not had an easy year, I am sure that losing Chester is extra hard on her.

I only saw Chester infrequently, but when I visited he was always by my side.   He would stay by anyone willing to pet him endlessly.  Chester was a big mush.

The thing about dogs is you don’t really train them, instead you both just learn what the other needs.  You read his signals and know when he needs to go out, needs to be fed, needs water or needs some love.  He learns what he can chew and what he can’t, where he is allowed to go and where he can’t, when it is time to play and when it is time to just stay by your side.  It takes years for this man dog relationship to develop, but when it does it is a beautiful thing. 

And then they grow old.

All dogs have at least one thing that even though they know it is forbidden, they cannot help themselves, and will not obey.  I had a black lab, Minnie that loved to chew on tissues.  No matter how we disciplined her, if she had a shot at some tissues she would chew on them and make a mess. 

When the time came that we had to put her down, we stayed with her and bawled like babies.  The vet handed us some tissues.  Don’t you know that as that dog was taking her final breaths, she grabbed a tissue and chewed it?  She left this world doing the one thing we could never cure her of; she passed on with a used tissue in her mouth.

I am guessing that when Chester left this world he was dreaming of finally catching the tiny dog that the couple around the block walked by his house every day or of one last try at the garbage pail when no one was looking.

Rest in peace Chester.  You were a good dog.  You were loved and you will be missed.   Enjoy yourself in doggy heaven.  There is a friend waiting for you that you never met.  Look for a big black lab with a tissue in her mouth.  I think you two will get along very well.

Saturday, October 27, 2012


Lying in bed half asleep getting over a nasty cold.  Mrs. C is at work at a dance competition.  I am watching football in my underwear and the doorbell rings.  Not once, not twice, THREE times!! Like it is an emergency.  I snap awake, leap out of bed, pull on some pants and run downstairs.

No one is at the door.  DING DONG, DING DING, DING DONG!!! AND NO ONE THERE??

In the door handle are pamphlets....

Nick Perrette and Larry Doyle for Sayreville Council...We want your vote!

Lynda Cleary for surrogate, Rodger Daley for Freeholder, Abrar "Sam" Khan for Freeholder...We want your vote!

Joe Kyrillos for U.S. Senate...I want your vote!

Anna Little for Congress...I want your vote!

Hmmm...I don't think so!!!

Nick, Larry, Lynda, Rodger, Abrar "Sam", Joe and about GO FUCK YOURSELVES!!

Nice campaign...Ring and Run...I used to do that when I was 10...ASSHOLES!!

Like I won't see these pamphlets between now and election day so you have to ring and run.  If you guys are not smart enough to tell your volunteers to just leave them in the door, I don't want you in office.

Damn I love blogging!!




There are lots of differences between older and younger generations.  The reasons behind some of these differences are obvious.  Many in my generation do not like computers and gadgets.  We get frustrated with things that are just second nature to the younger generation.  We see no reason to learn new ways to do things when the old ways have always served us well.  We tend to believe all the changes brought about by technology are causing us to lose important skills.

“Kids today, with all their keyboards, don’t know how to write in cursive (script or longhand in my day) anymore.  Soon it will be a lost art!"

Really, who cares? Why do we need to write in script when we have keyboards?  In my day the lost skill old people were afraid we would lose was Latin.  Everyone had to learn Latin. 

“Most of our words have Latin as their origin.”

“You can’t be a doctor or an engineer without learning Latin.”

“Latin may be a dead language, but it is important to learn.”

And so we learned Latin.

“Omnia Gaul es devisit en tres partes.”

“Veni, vidi, vici.”

Guess what, it was not important to learn Latin.  It was stupid to learn Latin.  Learning Latin was a waste of time.

Where am I going with this?  I’m not sure; I’m just noticing that the evolution of ideas in this day and age is moving at lightning speed and us old people get overwhelmed by it.

What prompted me to reflect on generational differences was my observation on nudity.

When I was a youth, there was no nudity in magazines, movies or TV.  If you got your hands on illicit naked pictures it was very exciting.  Today there is nudity in movies, TV, and magazines.  People walk on the beach practically naked where in the early nineteen hundreds (before my time) swim suits covered the whole body almost burka-like.  Nudity today is no big deal.


Young men today will not undress in gym locker rooms.  They do not shower together with other young men.  If they do shower at the gym, there are separate showers.  Old dudes do not have this hang up.  We grew up forced to shower after gym or sports practices.  The showers were open rooms with multiple showerheads.  There was group singing, and plenty of horseplay in these showers.  I know; gay right?   Except unless you were gay, we did not even know gay existed, so showering together was harmless.

In college, and no one wants to believe me on this, at our all men’s school, we had swimming as a PE course; everyone swam naked and thought nothing of it.  Swimsuits were not allowed!  I don’t recall anyone being embarrassed. I don’t recall any bullying, although we did all became quite proficient at making a “rat’s tail” out of a towel and inflecting welts on each other’s rear ends.

I find it ironic that in my younger days, when homosexuals were forced to hide their lifestyle, when most of us did not even know such a lifestyle existed, we participated innocently in what today would be considered gay activities and today when homosexuality is becoming an acceptable lifestyle (I know, we still have a ways to go) it is unacceptable for men to be naked in each other’s company.

A generation of men intolerant of homosexuals was comfortable in their nakedness with other men.  A younger generation that is more acceptant of the gay lifestyle finds it unacceptable to be naked around other men.

If you are waiting for my point, I’m not sure I have one.  Maybe it is just that generations are different, sometimes the reasons for the differences do not make any sense, and sometimes when you pass sixty your mind tends to wander a lot.

Tempus fugit!   


Friday, October 26, 2012


There are toys of every size and shape for toddlers.  Most are designed by the toy maker with a specific purpose in mind.  Some are educational; some are for developing coordination, and some teach socialization.

It is very important that your toddler uses these toys as they were intended.  If you want your toddler to develop to his full potential, to learn his letters, colors, animals, to develop physically and learn social skills, it is very important that they play with all their toys the way the toy makers intended.

I cannot stress the importance of this enough!  Most toys come with instructions and pictures demonstrating how a toy is to be used.  Improper use of toys can slow your toddler’s development and even leave him (her) confused and frustrated.  Parents should always monitor their toddler and be sure that all toys are used correctly.  If necessary you may have to demonstrate to your toddler how to use a toy correctly.  

Cole and Connor have a wonderful toddler table.  It is intended for quiet play.  The surface is for coloring books or playing with blocks.  In the center of this table there is a circular sack that is perfect for holding crayons or blocks until the boys wish to use them.  This is the perfect place for the boys to learn to color and learn to build with their blocks.


Cole and Connor may need some guidance.

Thursday, October 25, 2012


Fifty years ago I lost my hearing.  It was such a gradual event that I did not realize I had a problem until one night at the dinner table my dad reached out and wacked the back of my head, “Why won’t you answer me?”

I had no idea he was talking to me.  My hearing was gone in the left ear and none too good in the right.  I went to the doctor the next day.  Between my asking people, “What?” and people telling me to stop shouting for the last couple of weeks I should have known something was wrong.

The doctor took one look in my ears and said, “Wax.”





It turns out cleaning your ears with a cue tip is not always a good idea.  The doctor explained to me that the cue tip was kind of like a plunger compressing wax against the ear drum.  When a little water gets between the wax and the ear drum it is as if you are in a sound-proof room.

The doctor used a turkey baster like syringe and power washed the inside of my ears.  After several blasts, two ear plug like wax molds popped out of my ears (I know disgusting isn’t it.)  Freed from my sound-proof room I marveled at all the sounds I had forgotten existed.

I stepped out of the office and heard birds chirping…oh, I remember them.  I was fascinated that when cars went by on the highway they made a whooshing sound.  I had forgotten how loud water sounded against a shower curtain and it was amazing how loud my own voice was.  It is surprising that when you slowly lose a sense you don’t really miss it, but it is such a delight when you get that sense back.

I recently underwent cataract surgery on both my eyes.  My fogged over lenses were removed and replaced with new flexible adjusting lenses that were not only clean and clear but make wearing glasses an unnecessary requirement of the past.

As my eyes recovered from the surgery, it reminded me of my release from deafness those many years ago.  I had forgotten what white was.  I did not know that colors could be so bright or that shapes and print could be so crisp and sharp.  Did you know the speedometer in most cars shows speed not only in MPH, but inside the MPH, in tiny numbers, also displays the speed in KM?  I Know!

I never really missed bright colors or crisp sharp shapes and numbers, but I sure do appreciate them now.  I enjoy no longer requiring tri-focal glasses to read, watch TV or drive a car. 

I just need to get over the feeling that I am forgetting something whenever I go anywhere.  I have to stop pushing my non-existent glasses up over my nose and I have to quit adjusting the angle of my head to change my view through the non-existent tri-focal lenses.

One of the reasons healthcare is so expensive today is because they can now do really neat stuff like turning old eyes into new.        

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Cranky's First Date


If first impressions are important, it is a wonder I have ever had a second date with a woman.  Mrs. Cranky will confirm that the first impression I give off is one of a clumsy, tongue tied, oblivious clod.  In actuality my real persona is only a little clod like.

I have always been a bit awkward with the ladies, right from my very first “date.”  My first date was at age thirteen with Sue R.  Sue R. was a petite extremely cute blonde with a budding personality.  Budding was the operative word for a hormone laden new teen.

Arranging this first date was an operation fraught with anxiety.  The family phone was in my parent’s bedroom.  To call a young lady you had to sneak into the room and dial quickly before a prying older brother caught you calling a girl.  If caught, the teasing would have been merciless. 

I called the very cute Miss Sue at least five times.  The first four I hung up because her brother, my brother’s best friend, answered the phone.  On the fifth try Mr. R. answered.

“Who is this and why do you keep calling and hanging up?”

“Um notme isSuethere?”

“Hmmm…whose calling?”

“Joe?  I mean Joe.”


M U S T   C A T C H   M Y   B R E A T H!




Deep breath. 

“Hi Sue, it’s Joe.  Would you like to go to a movie or something sometime?”

“Sure, when?”

“Oh I was thinking maybe Saturday?”



The big date was that Saturday, at a theater the next town over so we would not run into any school friends.  It was a double feature, “Godzilla” and “Mothra.”  With these Japanese horror classics, surely love would be in the air.

Mom drove us to the theater and dropped us off.  Sue and I had already stolen a kiss behind the candy store after school so I was expecting some real action.  I entered the theater with high expectations.  I was quickly brought down to Earth.

My first suave move was purchasing the ticket.

“Two, under twelve please.” (Come on, it was 25 cents for under twelve, 35 cents for adult.)

“You’re not under twelve.”

“Yes we are.”

The cashier surveyed my “budding” young date and responded even more insistently, “No…no you are not.”

Reluctantly I handed over the full price of 70 cents.  The cashier informed me, “Be glad, under twelve has to sit in the kid’s section, I’m guessing you would rather be alone.”

We headed in, bought a 15 cent box of buttered popcorn and went to the adult section.  I was anticipating hand holding followed by a yawn and an over-the-shoulder arm move and maybe some discreet kissing.

Instead the usher demanded we move to the kid’s section.

“But I paid for an adult ticket.”

“This section is for 16 years old and above.  You guys are not 16.”

“But I paid full price…”

We were forced to sit in a crowded section of 10 year old kids. 

The indignity of it all; I still get riled up thinking about it.  I paid as an adult and got treated like a kid.  There was no hand holding, no arm move, no discreet kissing.  Surrounded by 10 year olds, it was just too embarrassing for words.

The date was not a total loss, “Godzilla” and “Mothra” were classics, and believe it or not the cute Sue R. and I dated for almost a year.  We progressed past the arm-over move but beyond that I will not kiss and tell (there wasn’t that much to tell.)  Then her family moved to Florida.

They say you always remember your first date, and as much as I try to forget, what they say is unfortunately too true.

Anyhow, the popcorn was good.   

Tuesday, October 23, 2012



This past weekend, Mrs. Cranky and I went to Sky Top Lodge in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania.  We were attending the 16th annual Lafayette College Fraternity reunion, class of 1968.  The members and their wives are a great bunch, and it is always a good time.

Part of the good time is in the telling of old stories and in ragging on old friends.  Everyone gets in on it, some more than others.  As a member who has few accolades to brag on compared to an assortment of successful doctors, lawyers and captains of business in our group, I am traditionally one of the sharpest tongued (loudest) “raggers.” 

I have established a reputation for being somewhat humorous, and if my comments and stories are not funny, then by golly I am damn sure to be loud and obnoxious.  My previous penchant for overindulging spirits (Oh fuck, I’m a damn alcoholic and have to use restraint in what and how much I imbibe) resulted in my having an especially sharp tongued, loud and obnoxious repartee.

I entered this weekend with a head cold which after 18 holes of golf on Saturday morning in wet chilly conditions settled in my chest and resulted in an extreme case of laryngitis. 

Saturday night is the main occasion for revelry.  There is a cocktail hour, dinner, speeches, and then dancing and general merriment.

It did not take long before my inability to speak above a whisper was apparent to all, and I was set upon by merciless sixtygenarians (it’s a word now) like a deer with a broken leg in a den of lions.  I was unable to respond to the relentless mocking, ribbing, made-up stories and a general continuous “Bag-of-shit” I was assaulted with for most of the night.

What these bullying compatriots failed to realize is, I have a blog and I am not afraid to use it.


Here is the wit, wisdom and hilarious retorts that I was unable to deliver due to my infirmity:

To “Stan the Man” - Oh yeah…so did you, and you were naked!

To “Squeak” - I wouldn’t talk if I was you; I remember the parrot and the mouse incident.

To “Gawk” – If you can't beat them, buy them and fire their asses! 

To “JoeB” – So I took a “Mulligan” on the 14th hole, I’m still calling it a par!

To Mrs. "JoeB" - I know a hump dance when I see it, and that was a hump dance.

To Marty “Hurtika” – You know that hardly ever happened and it is a kilt…not a skirt!

To “Frog” – OK, so she had hairy legs; she had a good personality, she made her own clothes and she was a damn good dancer.

To Mrs. "Frog"  - Walker robber! 

To “Pieman” – You’re a surgeon; is there such a thing as a tonguectomy?   

To “Buddy” – Dude, watch Ginger, I’m pretty sure she’s into me….I’m just saying.

To Mrs. "Buddy" - Are you picking my pocket, or are you just glad to see me? 

To “Catfish” - Fox squirrel hell, that thing had fangs!

To “Wally” – If you had just stayed on your side of the room it would have never happened!

To Mrs. Wally – OK so you guys are married 46 years, I still say it will never last.

To Tony and Mrs. R. – Thanks for hosting; we had a really great time!


Is there anything sadder than old people trying to dance?

Mrs. Cranky showing her moves.
Come on, 46 years married? “Get a room!”
Buddy…keep an eye on her!

 Once a wall flower, always a wall flower.

Which College Trustee broke into the hotel liquor cabinet?


Next year the party is at the Jersey Shore with hosts “Gawk” and wife.  It should be a good time.  I expect great food, great company, and great stories which seem to get more outrageous every year!
Gawk and Wife



Monday, October 22, 2012

It's About Time - A Cranky re-run

It's About Time

Peoples of the world communicate in hundreds of different languages. There are multiple systems for determining weights and measures. Hundreds of religions worship God or Gods in hundreds of ways. With all the different races, creeds and cultures in this world, how did everyone manage to decide on one way to keep time?
OK, a year is a given. One lap around the sun; it makes sense. A month makes sense; a lunar lap around the earth.
Where does the hour come from? Why 24 hours a day, 60 minutes to an hour, 60 seconds to a minute? Why not 100 seconds to a minute, 100 minutes to an hour, and 10 hours to a day. Come on, you could stretch a second to make it work. While you’re at it, why not stretch that second enough to make it 365 days to a year every year, and 30 days to every month. This would end the confusing February 29th thing, and eliminate the need for that stupid “30 days….” poem.
Come on guys, this isn’t rocket science!

Sunday, October 21, 2012



Here are this week's stupid headlines and Cranky's stupider, sophmoric and sometimes offensive comments.
Shekky Abdul Leno had a field day with this one on "Late Night in Fallujah"

Thousands rally in Pakistan for girl shot by Taliban – The Taliban are apparently almost a bad as a Scandinavian cartoon!  But not quite:

Even before the Taliban took over the Swat Valley, Fazlullah's radio broadcasts spread fear among residents in the area. The group first started to exert its influence in 2007 and quickly extended its reach to much of the valley by the next year. They set about imposing their will on residents by forcing men to grow beards, preventing women from going to the market and blowing up many schools -- the majority for girls.

Imagine how bad a five minute movie on YouTube might be!


Doctors perform emergency surgery to remove girl's tongue stuck in bottle – There with just a little more suction go I.  Yeah…like you didn’t try that experiment when you were a kid!

Bad joke prompts Alaska airport evacuationI’ve been thrown out of a cocktail party before, but I could never clear an airport!

HPV vaccines don't make girls promiscuous, study says – Oh great! Now I have about 2000 cc’s of the stuff to unload on ebay.

Woman, 132, dies, could have been world's oldest personCoulda woulda shoulda, pretty much everybody still above ground could become the world’s oldest person.

Schools Crack Down on Cheetos First God, now Cheetos?

Alex Rodriguez hits on female fans during ALCS loss – Slumping slugger strikes out again. 

Taliban Demands Unbiased Coverage of Its Attempted Murder of a 14-Year-Old GirlPakistani press refuses to report on the positive aspects of shooting a 14 year old girl in the face at point blank range because she believes women should be allowed to go to school and men should not get their heads chopped off for not growing a beard.

No one killed after suicide bomber attacks near US-Afghan base – Hmmm I think the suicide bomber might disagree…IF HE COULD…but he can’t…BECAUSE HE’s DEAD…SUICIDE BOMBER!!!  HELLO!

Naked Therapist Helps Clients Open Up – I think this just might work, but please Dr. Phil, keep the suit on!

Afghan woman beheaded for refusing to be a prostitute – And yet cartoons and crappy YouTube videos piss these people off!**


*Cranky Old Man apologizes for multiple references to The Taliban, The Middle East and backward perverted people.  It just seemed to be a bad week for backward perverted people some of whom may have ties to the Middle East and the Taliban.

**Please note that Cranky Old Man avoided any sick and tasteless comment related to prostitutes and giving head.  Uh Oh maybe I just did…sorry, it’s the Tourette’s.