tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41382991441438027172024-03-21T03:52:06.099-04:00Burkett Humor (The BH)Tell your friends that you're reading "The BH."Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-52846773885637218842008-08-22T15:24:00.006-04:002008-08-22T15:48:25.831-04:00I Secretly Want To Be A Club Adult<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOwSHQL2AMxh89H3ke7g7hGCOHLk3omxXJjUAVhUJ2vD4hlhh4VBnp1eaWH3iXG1ncjSDBMf4L7Dxt6fUFVkJ3G8cXlvWjj9pUd284YiO5HewZAMSBh5T5-2T_Nl1DhqOOitrqxI_iJu9/s1600-h/dj.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOwSHQL2AMxh89H3ke7g7hGCOHLk3omxXJjUAVhUJ2vD4hlhh4VBnp1eaWH3iXG1ncjSDBMf4L7Dxt6fUFVkJ3G8cXlvWjj9pUd284YiO5HewZAMSBh5T5-2T_Nl1DhqOOitrqxI_iJu9/s320/dj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237426250413040866" border="0" /></a>Doesn't that picture (left) look sweet? I wish I was there right now, tapping my foot and bobbling my head up and down to the spinsations of this DJ... but, instead I'm just sitting on my deck, staring at a squirrel in the backyard. There's too much sunlight back here! I wish it was dark out, or, even better I wish it was past midnight and I was at this club. Bet that DJ is sick... and I don't mean he has flu-like symptoms. I mean, like, he's a really good DJ that plays really good music. Get it?<br /><br />I secretly want to be a club adult. It's kind of like being a club kid, except older and instead of sucking on ring pops I would snort cocaine or drink hard liquor, or both... because that's what club adults do.<br /><br />I want to come home at 5 a.m. with white powder all over my nose, and when my wife asks me where I was at I'll ignore her and just walk to the liquor cabinet to get a Night/Day Cap. And when my son tries to wake me up in the morning I won't even hear him because I'll be totally blacked out... I wish I were blacked out right now. Then I wouldn't have this sun in my eyes... I wish I were a club adult.Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-5768398080460709142008-04-02T09:04:00.003-04:002008-04-06T11:42:04.895-04:00Sixth Grade Journal: Mr. Guido Talks. We Listen.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmb4H-NbX8TLQCrIYImtz4QXWIowgQCt3Lcfllj4AntwQz1qXYtWC7VMfoMopnOWgMU4xdSlejh_Xl6CMuwskHYslg8PJIOKO_X22TVDsmvflD8TvXpwOa5l3Zh-jjdky3dgo80fUe5HzF/s1600-h/guidoeye.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmb4H-NbX8TLQCrIYImtz4QXWIowgQCt3Lcfllj4AntwQz1qXYtWC7VMfoMopnOWgMU4xdSlejh_Xl6CMuwskHYslg8PJIOKO_X22TVDsmvflD8TvXpwOa5l3Zh-jjdky3dgo80fUe5HzF/s200/guidoeye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186157921083009106" border="0" /></a>Do you remember your elementary school principal? I remember mine. His last name was Guido. I don't know what his first name was, so I just called him "Mister Guido." Fortunately I didn't have to call his name too often, because I stayed out of trouble for the most part, but when he called your name it would send a chill down the back of your neck. Because you knew when you turned your head your eyes would meet his scary eyes.<br /><br />Yep. Mr. Guido had "<a href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/art3/0602051wilbanks1.jpg">crazy eyes</a>," kind of like that runaway bride from a few years ago. So when his eyes talked to you, you listened. When he told you to stop playing baseball, you stopped... out of fear that he might murder you if you didn't.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">04-20-86<br />In the morning I did my work then we went out and played baseball and my team lost. At lunch time we played baseball but Mr. Guido told us we couldn't play because he couldn't supervise us. After school we played the girls in softball and we won 14 to 5. We let them have 5 runs so they'd keep playin. Then I went over Dannys and we played around and did Reading. When I got home I ate Big Boys I had a salad and fish. Then I went home did Social Studies and went to sleep.<br /></span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-81341781067511371862008-04-01T00:11:00.006-04:002008-04-01T11:21:13.709-04:00April Fool's Day at the Office: Ten Sure-Fire Zingers That'll Leave 'Em in Tears<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ckeester/110896557/"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQwZMGbWTUHkhLyHPtlFg6iY1tLTMkJKOQZtNwM1xUmmaakeqV0AlJlTKRQmez_ydtaWWPbUyX0BV20qiKWZF-JekVY5tAY35EusbigAqK16snCHvgdGTD342nwCc_ncVoyQJBFz-f1qz/s320/officeclown.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184144208486410306" border="0"></a>Hey there office pranksters. Put away your whoopee cushions, hand buzzers and <a href="http://www.prankplace.com/fun_shakingpoop.htm">vibrating fake poops</a> because those everyday favorites ain't gonna cut it on a day like this. Today is a day where you take it up a notch, step up to the next level, <a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1lw6v_technotronic-pump-up-the-jam_music">pump up the jam</a> -- it's April Fool's Day you fool! So, here are 10 sure-fire zingers that'll leave the secretary in tears, the boss pulling his hair out (what little hair he has left) and the rest of your coworkers too afraid to even take a sip from the water cooler.<br /><br />10. Drop a fresh tilapia filet and a bag of popcorn in the microwave for 12 minutes and 39 seconds.<br /><br />9. Unbutton the top three buttons of your shirt or blouse, rub your hands violently through your hair and put some flour under your nose before you walk out of the men's/women's bathroom. You'll be known as the office cokehead in no time.<br /><br />8. Find the ugliest person on your floor and just walk right into their cube and tell them you want to make love to them. Then yell out, "April Fool's!" (That's one of my favorites)<br /><br />7. Put a pair of headphones on, but leave them unplugged from your computer and pretend like you don't notice that the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVKv6PdBR-I">Celine Dion track</a> you have cranked up in ITunes can be heard by everyone on your floor.<br /><br />6. Go to work wearing nothing but a neck tie and repeatedly insist to the HR rep -- who's escorting you out -- that it's the finest suit of clothes from the most beautiful cloth.<br /><br />5. Draw a vagina on a wall somewhere in the office and the first person you hear talk about it wins a chocolate bar or some other prize.<br /><br />4. Call in dead. (It's like calling in sick, except this time you're dead. Hilarious!)<br /><br />3. Start a gasoline fire outside the office building, then go inside and pull the fire alarm. That way, when everyone exits the building, they'll walk right into the flames. "April Fool's!"<br /><br />2. Pretend fall asleep in a meeting and start talking dirty like you're having a sexual dream involving one of your coworkers.<br /><br />1. Put a penis picture in your PowerPoint with a thought bubble (because penises have thoughts, too) that says, "April Fool's."Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-21694162684987434662008-03-31T09:30:00.001-04:002008-03-31T09:31:57.338-04:00How Many Five Year Olds Could You Take On?...Here's My Score<a href="http://www.justsayhi.com/bb/fight5" style="display: block; background: url(http://assets.justsayhi.com/badges/377/118/fight5.l27td2eq06.jpg) no-repeat; width: 296px; height: 84px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 42px; color: #fff; text-decoration: none; text-align: center; padding-top: 145px;">17</a><p></p>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-12293180076833639432008-03-25T21:50:00.011-04:002008-03-26T17:40:13.358-04:00Sixth Grade Journal: Super Size Me 1986-Style<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8uiXJwSnAUkCeKoKRWIqRu_e5YSRQcpF2MQYHpWpmsTh8TSTb_Rxj9Re9YV9THsNtgOm2cNS2bFcIZfBWEiZh8NIxeSUioATHh-zSaraiR07_z_w7TbH1o8bIyXoknQ7BeiOLqHyvDN2/s1600-h/ronny1986.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8uiXJwSnAUkCeKoKRWIqRu_e5YSRQcpF2MQYHpWpmsTh8TSTb_Rxj9Re9YV9THsNtgOm2cNS2bFcIZfBWEiZh8NIxeSUioATHh-zSaraiR07_z_w7TbH1o8bIyXoknQ7BeiOLqHyvDN2/s320/ronny1986.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181874305385572386" border="0" /></a>Before there was <a href="http://free-movie-database.blogspot.com/2008/03/super-size-me.html">Morgan Spurlock</a> and "Super Size Me," there was my Sixth Grade diet: thirty-one days of pizza, KFC, candy bars and Tuna Helper. Here's a day-by-day breakdown of what I ate in March 1986, according to my <a href="http://burketthumor.blogspot.com/search/label/Sixth%20Grade%20Journal">Sixth Grade Journal</a>:<br /><br />March 1 - Pizza, pop, chocolate cream pie<br />March 2 - hot dogs, french fries, roast beef and mashed potatoes<br />March 3 - chicken, rice and corn<br />March 4 - spaghetti and milk<br />March 5 - spaghetti and sandwich<br />March 6 - steak, mashed potatoes and green beans<br />March 7 - McDonald's<br />March 8 - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chi-Chi%27s">Chi-Chi's burrito</a><br />March 9 - Turkey <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tv_dinner">TV dinner</a><br />March 10 - Chicken soup and milk<br />March 11 - Kentucky Fried Chicken<br />March 12 - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Caesars">Little Caesar's</a> pizza<br />March 13 - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sloppy_Joes">Sloppy Joes</a> and Pepsi<br />March 14 - Steak and baked potato<br />March 15 - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kielbasa">Kielbasa</a><br />March 16 - T.G.I. Friday's for lunch; <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hardees">Hardee's</a> 1/4-pound burger, french fries and Coke for dinner<br />March 17 - Kentucky Fried Chicken<br />March 18 - Taco Bell<br />March 19 - Soup<br />March 20 - Steak and green beans<br />March 21 - <a href="http://blog.kkc.school.nz/hjohnson/2008/03/15/marshmallow-bunny-experiment/">Marshmallow bunnies</a><br />March 22 - Cake and ice cream<br />March 23 - McDonald's cheeseburger, french fries and a Coke<br />March 24 - Spaghetti and milk<br />March 25 - Hot dogs, beans and french fries<br />March 26 - pizza<br />March 27 - Candy and Kentucky Fried Chicken<br />March 28 - Salad and fish from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Boy_%28restaurant%29">Big Boy</a><br />March 29 - Candy bar<br />March 30 - Burger King<br />March 31 - <a href="http://house-everything.blogspot.com/2008/03/tuna-time.html">Tuna Helper</a> and cupcakes<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-44775212065609386642008-03-24T13:59:00.014-04:002008-03-24T14:47:11.244-04:00What's Hot?: Kwame Kilpatrick and Anarchic Hand Syndrome<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_Moz0-7bsntGgPphVg8HZocIrC2vciKRin6cQ-zjLGc8Mz_e_791QUthApqQeezyh4wWSS8luSvRNHqmkFX0YHdAQYzvUs1fE1vRGDJdOM6u7bxIB6P1DndphWj0M1_MX6Z08rol8e4e/s1600-h/kwamestrange2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_Moz0-7bsntGgPphVg8HZocIrC2vciKRin6cQ-zjLGc8Mz_e_791QUthApqQeezyh4wWSS8luSvRNHqmkFX0YHdAQYzvUs1fE1vRGDJdOM6u7bxIB6P1DndphWj0M1_MX6Z08rol8e4e/s320/kwamestrange2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181378464296151026" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >I'm proud to say that Detroit holds four out of the five top spots on Google Trends at this hour (2:25 p.m. EST), all thanks to our mayor, Kwame Kilpatrick, who will become the <a href="http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080324/COL27/80324020/1001">first Detroit mayor</a> to be charged with a crime while in office.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The other spot goes to the search term, "anarchic hand syndrome," which is also known as the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0057012/">Dr. Strangelove</a> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">syndrome. It's an unusual</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> neurological disorder, a form of apraxia in which one of the sufferer's hands seems to take on a mind of its own...</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsA7SozBCueVw2YmSq6QeUYp6Q_C7gJHTyKqbr5lsLLlYQUpTp8KF1r_v-NElLvH6-msCI3KrwAsRFHNmlvc6vE5HpEL1tzTJWNGEN6nNlhWiDEru2GR2NaQot5L5Ka5e_jiSi__ee-0Y/s1600-h/Picture+2.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsA7SozBCueVw2YmSq6QeUYp6Q_C7gJHTyKqbr5lsLLlYQUpTp8KF1r_v-NElLvH6-msCI3KrwAsRFHNmlvc6vE5HpEL1tzTJWNGEN6nNlhWiDEru2GR2NaQot5L5Ka5e_jiSi__ee-0Y/s200/Picture+2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181376772079036370" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Wait a second? Maybe that's not unrelated to our mayor. Maybe he'll be using that as a defense in his upcoming trial. Maybe Kwame will argue that he suffers from the Strangelove syndrome, and that he had no control over the hand that sent those <a href="http://burketthumor.blogspot.com/2008/01/lol-lol-detroit-mayors-sexy-texts-lack.html">sexy text messages</a> to his former chief of staff, Christine Beatty.<br /><br />Kwame: "Your honor. This hand has a mind of its own, and when it gets a hold of my BlackBerry, there's no telling what it will do."</span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-52168888150387474932008-03-21T13:04:00.006-04:002008-03-21T13:36:13.266-04:00Top-Ten Milestones of a 402-Month-Old Baby Boy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5_Gkhx9bwjUTpkt0pVCpiN2D7nPY6r74f2gy6FBxKqtr5W1hLAsVlHZdrjBm3ZIQ7-425bJJmupLbcpYld2tRKUUwiFJ_CJXHamTdXkQtP-A44sb6AwZP7Cw_gXEAWLJTzX7_g9KDflr/s1600-h/manindiaper.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5_Gkhx9bwjUTpkt0pVCpiN2D7nPY6r74f2gy6FBxKqtr5W1hLAsVlHZdrjBm3ZIQ7-425bJJmupLbcpYld2tRKUUwiFJ_CJXHamTdXkQtP-A44sb6AwZP7Cw_gXEAWLJTzX7_g9KDflr/s200/manindiaper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180250030358603634" border="0" /></a>There are certain milestones that come along with being a 402-month-old baby boy. And I'm <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">happy</span> depressed to say that this baby boy is pretty much on track:<br /><br />10. No longer smiles at the sound of his wife's voice<br />9. Grasps objects, especially those filled with alcohol<br />8. Rolls from back to stomach and stomach to back and never really gets any sleep<br />7. Stops responding to own name, until the fourth or fifth try<br />6. Vocabulary reduced to one-word sentences: "Huh?" "Wha?" "Idunno."<br />5. Drinks from a mug<br />4. Begins make believe play about what his life should have been<br />3. Learning how to ride a motorcycle<br />2. No longer dresses himself<br />1. Jumps, hops and skips and spends the next three days in bed recovering from neck, back and leg sorenessAdamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-84025531610516069552008-03-06T21:00:00.010-05:002008-03-16T21:47:38.309-04:00Haircutstrophobia: Why Hairstylists Freak Me Out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLTTHTAtdQPnDHyosBwSJu-YeN9ruxBC-wgDHpnkM9-odWBjBzUYqepiXKn9sE2kbdvWFsNkgl3pTq5koeKjXznSz95OZ5B9Mfdd-Vp5Oh80Qw0GXpvyd9hVdjdNYeMiWBOsLEsBFFsT7/s1600-h/badhairday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLTTHTAtdQPnDHyosBwSJu-YeN9ruxBC-wgDHpnkM9-odWBjBzUYqepiXKn9sE2kbdvWFsNkgl3pTq5koeKjXznSz95OZ5B9Mfdd-Vp5Oh80Qw0GXpvyd9hVdjdNYeMiWBOsLEsBFFsT7/s320/badhairday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178057990574404578" border="0" /></a>I just got a haircut recently and I'm glad I did it because my do was getting so long that I was starting to look like 80s superstar <a href="http://www.odinartcollectables.com/images/record%20rick%20springfield%20living%20in%20oz.jpg">Rick Springfield</a>, except not as handsome... more like Rick Springfield's retarded cousin.<br /><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><br />Making the trip to the salon is not easy for me. The thought of getting a haircut makes me sweat. When I call to make an appointment, my voice trembles and squeaks like a 12-year-old boy's.<br /><br />But nothing freaks me out more than the hairstylists themselves. They're always trying to chat with me; I just ignore them, give them the silent treatment and pretend I can't hear them over the blow dryers and buzzing of electric razors. I also have a rule where I'll never go back to the same girl twice. I always do a walk-in with a random stylist, because I don't want them to get to know me or talk to me or get too attached, and I also don't want them to get too complacent. I had a lady who used to cut my hair for years -- her name was Bridgette -- and after a while, when I would come in, she would just take advantage of me and my time and use it to take care of some errands in the mall where the salon was at, or she would yap with other clients and coworkers while cutting my hair, not even paying attention to what she was doing. I'll never forgive Bridgette for that <a href="http://www.channel4.com/media/userpages/accepted/71204_BadHaircut.jpg">clipper incident</a> that made me the laughing stock of my fifth grade class at Polk Elementary.<br /><br />I also keep my hands glued to my side whenever I'm getting a hair cut, to avoid touching the stylist's privates with my elbow. It totally freaks me out when that happens. One of these days I'm going to snap and jump out of the chair and yell across the salon for all to hear, "Would you please stop resting your vagina on my elbow!" I know bald guys would get mad at me for saying this, but I envy you. You don't have to go through what I go through every 62 days.<br /></div>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-44943400390605938912008-03-04T11:14:00.000-05:002008-03-04T11:31:41.766-05:00Sixth Grade Journal: Chocolate Car Trouble<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaz6EIv0geGBVK8HjhL_T_DzWG1FoEOjbRLcrgJlSp7mz_1kbGdHzQSGnswbNbvPBJmWe8cof4EeYWRyWok2iLj6t8hlHMWz3WAnQSQDxRLmJc-SuIaygOjN10v9M3C9jGHVDk_UKf4WRU/s1600-h/chococars.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaz6EIv0geGBVK8HjhL_T_DzWG1FoEOjbRLcrgJlSp7mz_1kbGdHzQSGnswbNbvPBJmWe8cof4EeYWRyWok2iLj6t8hlHMWz3WAnQSQDxRLmJc-SuIaygOjN10v9M3C9jGHVDk_UKf4WRU/s200/chococars.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173753538203395474" border="0" /></a>Some kids bring guns to school. Others bring chocolate cars. Both should be punished. I learned that lesson the hard way.<br /><br />It's another episode from my Sixth Grade Journal:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">2/21/86<br />In school we did our journal and other assignments and when we were done we played with chocolate cars and got in trouble so we had to write a page in Science. At lunch time I went to Wendys and ate chicken and a salad. After school I went to the Baseball clinic and got out at 4:45. When I got home I ate a snack and watched tv. I then watched tv then went to basketball practice. After practice I ate meatloaf, corn, and mashed potatoes. I then watched the Cosby show and Stevie Wonder was on it. After I watched tv, I played basketball. I then read a book, and I enjoyed it. My mom then said, It's time for bed, so I went to sleep.<br /><br /></span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-65283180177430758482008-03-04T01:43:00.004-05:002008-03-04T08:11:08.082-05:00F#%k the Label: Kenny G Decides To Toot His Own Horn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgfxRFd9e_oZ136CQK5zs6uMqDRlufa7lHNbJXGLuECx6cDewPxXt8uNlJIwFtbogQ_2maBLaD3cD7AIPcNPOcLDGsLJtXZjf-AaKyK7KuKWiMCqp69TU724uDt9jf9z9TARe0W8txvic/s1600-h/kgsax.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgfxRFd9e_oZ136CQK5zs6uMqDRlufa7lHNbJXGLuECx6cDewPxXt8uNlJIwFtbogQ_2maBLaD3cD7AIPcNPOcLDGsLJtXZjf-AaKyK7KuKWiMCqp69TU724uDt9jf9z9TARe0W8txvic/s200/kgsax.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173773952182953378" border="0" /></a><br /><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">First Radiohead. Now Kenny G. Rebels against the label...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/Music/03/03/music.kennyg.ap/index.html">Kenny G does it his own way - CNN.com</a><br /><blockquote>The G-man saw no point in following other older artists like Rod Stewart and Barry Manilow down the well-worn path of playing cover tunes. So he arranged an amicable divorce from Arista Records in order to return to making original music.</blockquote><a rel="tag" href="http://technorati.com/tag/Arista%20Records" class="performancingtags"><br /></a></div>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-66132717974151716002008-03-01T15:12:00.004-05:002008-03-01T15:39:21.650-05:00The Holocaust Survivor Who Cried Wolf<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gQ1Y2Um_dUAjdMGmDzX7SqUeyovbWXVcyjIK96lR-xaYYREnxinX41wj3CE8H8mvi4MUgP_snhWZVXqyBhhg9G6BSNgAvH3iXpXGVXXi3eAlZLhnSl5-ZSqkUgS_B9MnvezHYakp7fl2/s1600-h/wolves.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-gQ1Y2Um_dUAjdMGmDzX7SqUeyovbWXVcyjIK96lR-xaYYREnxinX41wj3CE8H8mvi4MUgP_snhWZVXqyBhhg9G6BSNgAvH3iXpXGVXXi3eAlZLhnSl5-ZSqkUgS_B9MnvezHYakp7fl2/s200/wolves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172875596510529890" border="0" /></a><br />Umm. Yeah. Should we have ever believed her? ...<br /><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><br /><a href="http://buzz.yahoo.com/articles/y_featured/24/2/">Featured on Y! - Yahoo! Buzz</a><br /><blockquote>- Writer admits her story of escaping Nazis and living with wolves is a fantasy.<br /></blockquote></div>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-33023032801130986992008-02-23T21:03:00.004-05:002008-02-23T22:07:06.417-05:00It's Always Shitty In St. Louis<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrS8QFmSgZViqHlKI4bKtLR-bUXd2g_eco3Ds9Yfsgfhd_1u_tg12KgXkGEfX0aCo7t9G7WPqbiS6SO7Jv5eYJEOogDdS494rGSV3kUiADjXcehsZiRGKdAoN-mMyjoAlBQ-dZus2Y2Sq/s1600-h/gatewayarch.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrS8QFmSgZViqHlKI4bKtLR-bUXd2g_eco3Ds9Yfsgfhd_1u_tg12KgXkGEfX0aCo7t9G7WPqbiS6SO7Jv5eYJEOogDdS494rGSV3kUiADjXcehsZiRGKdAoN-mMyjoAlBQ-dZus2Y2Sq/s320/gatewayarch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170377008329702178" border="0" /></a>Actually, that headline is misleading. It's not really that shitty here. I'm just bitter about everyone <a href="http://burketthumor.blogspot.com/2008/02/home-sweet-home-most-miserable-ist.html">ripping on Detroit</a>, so I thought I'd take it out on St. Louis. Hope I didn't offend too many of my readers in Missouri. I think they account for about 1 percent of the readership of Burkett Humor, which is just one person -- a guy named Henry. Sorry Henry... if you're available for a drink this weekend, I'm staying at the Courtyard Marriott. Call me. My treat.<br /><br />Anyway, this is my first time visiting St. Louis and if you've never been here before <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">SPOILER ALERT!!!!</span> they have an arch. It is kind of spectacular when you get up close to it and also very inspirational. Just standing next to it for a couple of minutes I came up with what I think are three very hilarious arch jokes. You see, I'm thinking about touring Missouri comedy clubs to do a standup act that's all about the arch. All arch jokes, all the time. I'll even include it in my stage name, something like "Archie Arch the Arch Humorist" or "Archie the jokester" or "A guy named Adam who appreciates the arch so much so that he's devoted a whole act to it."<br /><br />Here's some of the material I've been working on:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">"So if I were to get in a fight with the Gateway Arch, would that make it my arch-nemesis?"<br /><br />"I was down by the Gateway Arch today, and I just couldn't hold it any longer, so I urinated on the base of it. I think it's what they call a golden arch. Anyone hungry for some McDonald's?"<br /><br />"If there were a war being fought along the riverfront in St. Louis, would those little shelters soldiers build to protect themselves be referred to as 'arch-ie bunkers?'<br /><br /></span></span>If you have any arch jokes you've been dying to tell, please share them in the comments area below. I'm really working on collecting as much material as possible for my Missouri road show. I think it's going to be huge. Can't wait!Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-56702284017305957302008-02-20T22:00:00.005-05:002008-02-20T22:42:26.759-05:00Eclipse the Musical: Even the Moon Loves Bonnie Tyler<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxPEnNV-btz9drUldz_jvRBmR35ZlHy9YsZAPanbHvytxNxkAo7icwyaU0lNubNWzoWsP_vGThrU4Arx7hf_E7pExApaMTts8GtDjUXQvdr5gGOXy3nWJRrBXIxn64Zby-L8sR0fzSFBu/s1600-h/lunar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxPEnNV-btz9drUldz_jvRBmR35ZlHy9YsZAPanbHvytxNxkAo7icwyaU0lNubNWzoWsP_vGThrU4Arx7hf_E7pExApaMTts8GtDjUXQvdr5gGOXy3nWJRrBXIxn64Zby-L8sR0fzSFBu/s200/lunar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169273390713191170" border="0" /></a>This may be the lamest blog post I've ever had, but I couldn't resist. Whenever I hear the word eclipse, I think of the song by Bonnie Tyler, "<a href="http://www.romantic-lyrics.com/lt14.shtml">Total Eclipse of the Heart</a>."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Once upon a time there was light in my life</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">But now there's only love in the dark</span><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">So when I walked out onto the front porch tonight to <a href="http://www.weatherscapes.com/techniques.php?cat=astronomy&page=lunar_eclipse">watch the moon</a> pass through the shadow of the Earth, of course, that song was the first thing that came to my mind. And then my second thought was to start singing it, to the moon. A lunar serenade.<br /><br /></div> <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;">There's no one in the universe as magical and wonderous as you</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I started really softly, barely audible. And then, after checking to make sure no one was looking, I turned up my volume.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> Turnaround bright eyes<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Pretty soon I found myself lost in the gaze of the moon's winking eye and in the lyrics of this song... So lost that I didn't realize that about 37 of my neighbors had gathered around to sing it with me.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> Forever's gonna start tonight </span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> Forever's gonna start tonight</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">We all held hands and belted the last lines into the sky as the moon's eye shut completely.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> Nothing I can say </span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> A total eclipse of the heart<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br />Needless to say, after the singing stopped and we all came back down to Earth, we all pretty much felt awkward, stupid, embarrassed. Guess it was just one of those moments in time (insert Whitney Houston's "One Moment in Time" <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EbYmMb4lR4">here</a>) that we'll never be able to capture again. Well, at least not until <a href="http://truemors.com/?p=25864">2010</a>. Next time I should make a dip or something for my guests. A lunar dip. How rude of me not to think of that this time around. All that eclipse etiquette training out the door.</span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-36266260244062455382008-02-18T23:10:00.009-05:002008-02-19T09:19:36.303-05:00C.C. (Chelsea Clinton) Is, Like, So Mega Kewl!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDe7FSnx6VCwv_VxmUMnC0BggHRsrYlTrhjSJvBAuHB-EKvaGx9USjsVZ_9R8zXivIg9RYYQ7b43XtR4LId_cyFM1Uu_H8hg4jFVuwFjiIhlSMB-us1ksxPY9Y_i7t_WLs3E-BVxIPGUb/s1600-h/chelsea1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDe7FSnx6VCwv_VxmUMnC0BggHRsrYlTrhjSJvBAuHB-EKvaGx9USjsVZ_9R8zXivIg9RYYQ7b43XtR4LId_cyFM1Uu_H8hg4jFVuwFjiIhlSMB-us1ksxPY9Y_i7t_WLs3E-BVxIPGUb/s320/chelsea1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168539015730084594" border="0" /></a>OMG! Have you seen Chelsea Clinton (C.C.) lately? She is like the kewloost former president's/presidential candidate's daughter eva.<br /><br />Her mom seemed, like, so lame to me, until C.C. <a href="http://bauergriffinonline.com/2008/02/chelsea-clinton-gets-leid.php">hit the campaign trail</a> and gave me the 411 on Hill Hill.<br /><br />Now, I'm, like, OMG! Who am I going to vote for? I thought <a href="http://people.howstuffworks.com/barack-obama.htm">Barack</a> was, like, way kewl, but after listening to C.C. talk at my community college, I'm freaking out. She, like, so understood me. And she said her mom would totally make sure that the sub shop in the student center would get back those awesomeness fudge brownies they used to sell. WTF?! Why did they get rid of them in the first place? It totally ruined my junior year.<br /><br />I dropped my URL to C.C., so hopefully she's reading this right now!! If you are C.C., reading this, I just want to say again that the words you spit in the cafeteria that day changed me 4eva. I'll never 4get it. You were so chill, man. You're, like, the "our" in "our generation," and if I do get out of bed to vote next week, I'm totally either going to vote for your mom... or Ron Paul. Did you see that movie <a href="http://www.towncalleddobson.com/?p=933">V for Vendetta</a>? F'n awesome!Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-23810237080993474162008-02-16T17:55:00.008-05:002008-02-16T18:32:10.618-05:00Sixth Grade Journal: The Day Nine Children Went Missing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhwZEne06_TV32n1Xf3j0f66uYxDdM4St580EUmbXIfKJ2RVqj3s5Ooho5pZ6uZtZfvRnc1ogPS_sn7Qwog_IA-YWjSkGJJv2S9jzbrl_nPftvl9cLWeFnyi84PNKmkSj1EKtU_7AEPjk/s1600-h/pdolls.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhwZEne06_TV32n1Xf3j0f66uYxDdM4St580EUmbXIfKJ2RVqj3s5Ooho5pZ6uZtZfvRnc1ogPS_sn7Qwog_IA-YWjSkGJJv2S9jzbrl_nPftvl9cLWeFnyi84PNKmkSj1EKtU_7AEPjk/s200/pdolls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167724926153964258" border="0" /></a>I was flipping through my Sixth Grade Journal today when I discovered that several of my classmates disappeared on Jan. 27, 1986. I don't remember this day. Maybe I blocked it out or maybe I just didn't care.<br /><br />This was before Amber Alert, so maybe people just didn't do anything when children went missing. Maybe they just assumed the kids ran away, or were abducted by aliens or something.<br /><br />Or maybe they just thought that there was no sense letting a bunch of missing kids get in the way of the education of kids who aren't missing. I certainly didn't. I kept on working on my book report and playing video games, just like any other day. What an insensitive little prick I was back then, but I guess that's how everyone was in the 80s.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">01-27-86<br />Monday I got up got dressed ate cereal and went to school. When I got to school there were nine kids missing, so it was pretty quiet. After school I started on my report and then played coleco vision. When I finished I ate steak, mashed potatoes, and corn. After dinner I did my Social Studies watched the Music awards played Life then went to bed.<br /></span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-65693030286033908292008-02-13T00:38:00.008-05:002008-02-14T10:54:51.319-05:00My Local Spaghetti Guy Says Al Gore Is a Retard<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqUprO7vE75Sma3421UseX6bb7PvQEs5VgexGzkK8J6i6mJ970vTfUmprp2czLudU2j3lTmhGtLxht7FQIi4jPq6cjqvTGDRx4tSVVM1McsoWeehIQUuKRWjMdfLIyBtKXSArawzXQeD9/s1600-h/spaghetti+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqUprO7vE75Sma3421UseX6bb7PvQEs5VgexGzkK8J6i6mJ970vTfUmprp2czLudU2j3lTmhGtLxht7FQIi4jPq6cjqvTGDRx4tSVVM1McsoWeehIQUuKRWjMdfLIyBtKXSArawzXQeD9/s320/spaghetti+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166343595952093890" border="0"></a>It was about 4 degrees Fahrenheit the other night when we made a trip to our local spaghetti hangout. I think some people call it an Italian restaurant. It's the place we always go to get the noodles and red sauce, so the manager -- who I'll refer to as Jimbo in this article -- knows us.<br /><br />On a typical night, Jimbo usually brings us our usual dishes and talks to us about the usual small-talk kind of stuff that restaurant managers are good at talking about: how big our son is getting, how business is going or how the weather is.<br /><br />But on this night, Jimbo the spaghetti man was feeling rather saucy, so he took that weather conversation to another level. (Its gettin hot in herre!) Jimbo decided to trade in the usual dish for that night's special -- a plate of Gore-hating, polar-bear-killing, global-warming-is-nonsense stew.<br /><br />That's right. Jimbo pretty much told us that the frigid temperatures were proof that Al Gore is a retard. He said that we underestimate Mother Nature and it's silly to think that our lil' ol' power plants or supersized Hummers or cans of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/luckyplanet/2251175360/">Aqua Net hairspray</a> could do any damage to such a powerful force as her. And he added that if the polar bears were in so much danger, than why do the ones at the zoo seem to live happy, long lives, no matter what the temperature is outside. As I finished sucking up a fork full of noodles, I thought to myself, "Why is Jimbo still talking?" and "What is he trying to say?" and "Who is going to shut him up so I can finish my spaghetti?"<br /><br />But I was wondering today if Jimbo might have had a point. I mean, if the planet was really warming, than why is it cold as a frozen hell and snowing out again? Maybe Jimbo should take a slide projector on the road and present his own non-theory on global warming to the world. He might sound a little wacky to people at first, but once he feeds them a plate of that delicious spaghetti, they'll warm up to his ideas real quick... Do polar bears eat spaghetti? If not, then that's probably why they're dying.Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-69470347656784872262008-02-12T22:47:00.006-05:002008-02-13T10:06:52.173-05:00Home Sweet Home: The Most Miserable-ist, Dangerousest Place in America<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMAtTvMYqMFZzB1WZsfE_kxhlk8fLvQCDc8fzYdd6OtpOxxe2lWMCD-7-pkNQfzuq4Q4FvihQLgGN3yI7eLZOsWKqhs5vFvKyiCbWX3Sv4cAP3CnsRubGEJ23f2-k_2p5WUozBeoy1R8D/s1600-h/scram.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMAtTvMYqMFZzB1WZsfE_kxhlk8fLvQCDc8fzYdd6OtpOxxe2lWMCD-7-pkNQfzuq4Q4FvihQLgGN3yI7eLZOsWKqhs5vFvKyiCbWX3Sv4cAP3CnsRubGEJ23f2-k_2p5WUozBeoy1R8D/s320/scram.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166308652098173618" border="0"></a>"Yep. #1 again." That was the message a friend sent in an e-mail, along with a link to this <a href="http://promo.realestate.yahoo.com/americas-most-miserable-cities.html">article from Forbes</a> naming Detroit -- my home, the place where I chose to raise my child -- the most miserable city in America.<br /><br />The reason my friend used the word "again" was because just a few months ago, Detroit received another #1 award -- <a href="http://www.newser.com/story/12017.html">most dangerous city</a>.<br /><br />And, you know, they're right. The reporters and the researchers who conducted these studies and made these lists are absolutely right. This is the most miserable-ist, dangerousest place on Earth.<br /><br />Every morning, when I walk from my house to my car I get shot at. I've been shot more than 211 times in the past month. The rap star 50 cent was famously shot nine times. If you do the math that's just over a nickel per shot, so that would make my rap name "10 dollars and 55 cents and counting" or "$10.55 'n Countin."<br /><br />But the bullet wounds don't even hurt anymore. My life is so miserable here in Detroit that I can't even feel the pain that's inflicted on me, or the pain that I inflict on others. I haven't been quite miserable enough yet to shoot anyone, but I've kicked and punched a bunch of people to steal a purse or a car or a sweet pair of <a href="http://a763.g.akamai.net/7/763/1644/v002/app.infopia.com/img/image/fp/VPID/1890768/img002/img.jpg">roller shoes</a>.<br /><br />Funny thing is, it's like the Forbes writer said with that really witty line at the end of his article, "Misery loves company." In Detroit, we have formed sort of a community of miserably dangerous people. We're like the Grouchland of Sesame Street. We've gotten used to this way of life, so, in a weird sort of way, we like it. So, if you're looking for a sunny, happy, bullet-free existence, go to Mission Viejo, Calif., or Clarkston, NY or Sugarland, Texas. Get out. Go. Or, as one famous grouch once put it, "Scram!"Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-63998688738257207432008-02-12T22:39:00.006-05:002008-02-13T01:52:46.410-05:00In Case You Missed It: The Real Fat TuesdayHere's a little shout out to all of my Polish peeps. A tribute to the real Fat Tuesday -- Paczki Day in Hamtramck, Mich.<br /><br /><object height="355" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0P5t9M6vIRs&rel=1"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0P5t9M6vIRs&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"></embed></object>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-47517806217656471892008-02-07T14:39:00.001-05:002008-02-07T18:39:32.991-05:00Mother of the Week Award: Tina Williams!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2lRB1H3Of3qunSjq_K2JY3d1D415RNnvLwYS4lN6E9dZN0DFu2Exu8P_XU2S0k0t0O7-TrQJkW_pAdF6rVYGFZItR80GnyT-LUsx_e2UlXRVHkcyRh8WuQbmsbwVoDZvamcFxjrU2UGH/s1600-h/tina.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2lRB1H3Of3qunSjq_K2JY3d1D415RNnvLwYS4lN6E9dZN0DFu2Exu8P_XU2S0k0t0O7-TrQJkW_pAdF6rVYGFZItR80GnyT-LUsx_e2UlXRVHkcyRh8WuQbmsbwVoDZvamcFxjrU2UGH/s320/tina.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164386796689123730" border="0" /></a>As part of a new series on the Burkett Humor blog, I'll be giving away "Mother of the Week" and "Father of the Week" awards to deserving parents across the world. This week's award goes to Tina Williams, who chose to safely buckle in her case of beer in the front seat, while her 16-month-old was crawling around freely in the back. But this was not just any beer, it was a 24-pack of Busch beer. Only the finest for Tina and her family.<br /><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><i><br /><a href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2008/0205082beer1.html?link=rssfeed">Beer Before Babes - February 5, 2008</a><br /></i> <blockquote><i>When cops pulled Tina Williams over for erratic driving Sunday afternoon, they discovered that the 46-year-old Florida woman had her seat belt priorities scrambled.</i></blockquote><br />Powered by <a href="http://scribefire.com/">ScribeFire</a>.</div>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-61962854748922491282008-02-06T08:30:00.000-05:002008-02-08T01:22:24.828-05:00Missing Faberge Egg! Please Help!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-5wDcjJqjrXl0253houB-urScO5bVLxNXtWqy7J8ipPHuAwpAwv1lhzTXrMKTD-Yld7KrjXRrKVglcuIZM7HVFD82QWKqRs65fFne78h1sYLGSl9GSfWz9Ln5jC_9XYXYM5vesIynXfY/s1600-h/faberge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-5wDcjJqjrXl0253houB-urScO5bVLxNXtWqy7J8ipPHuAwpAwv1lhzTXrMKTD-Yld7KrjXRrKVglcuIZM7HVFD82QWKqRs65fFne78h1sYLGSl9GSfWz9Ln5jC_9XYXYM5vesIynXfY/s200/faberge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163862381182282114" border="0" /></a>Hello blog readers. I don't usually ask you to do anything except read and laugh at my blog -- because it's the polite thing to do -- but a friend sent me this classified ad from a local newspaper. And, someone could really use your help tracking down their stolen egg:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: bold;">I am requesting your assistance in recovering a GOLD FABERGE EGG ENCRUSTED WITH JEWELS, approximately 8 inches tall, attached to a wooden base, valued at over $6,000. The afore mentioned egg was taken from a home on Lake Shore Drive, during an under age house party. The subjects that stole the egg along with other jewelry, stated that the ‘egg was thrown from a car window’, while at a stop sign at Southbound Wedgewood at Roslyn, November 12, 2007. If you have any Information, Please Call Village of Grosse Pointe Shores, Detective Sargent Dan Pullen, 313-881-5500.</span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-75037065032319257002008-02-04T00:24:00.001-05:002008-02-04T18:31:42.202-05:00Sixth Grade Journal: Super Bowl Memories Or Why I Should Have Been a Writer for Sports Illustrated<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMK69mKg_xi5UQNq9q1TlGYwoK61AoVBtmxZvMxD3ynvGEwKGElHTATwGpAw23HsuJdvdb71pZdaeydkYENnMdiUoychcbAjnlpekF3kUJlNtsmKMCyRGARwUY782RI05ZWObWl0a8xLG/s1600-h/Patriots.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMK69mKg_xi5UQNq9q1TlGYwoK61AoVBtmxZvMxD3ynvGEwKGElHTATwGpAw23HsuJdvdb71pZdaeydkYENnMdiUoychcbAjnlpekF3kUJlNtsmKMCyRGARwUY782RI05ZWObWl0a8xLG/s200/Patriots.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162995510753061234" border="0" /></a>After watching that crazy Super Bowl game last night, <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">(SPOILER ALERT!!!)</span> where the New York Giants shocked the New England Patriots 17 to 14, I was inspired to open my <a href="http://burketthumor.blogspot.com/search/label/Sixth%20Grade%20Journal">Sixth Grade Journal</a>... to see if I had ever written anything about the big game in 1986 between the Chicago Bears (<a href="http://www.metacafe.com/watch/69344/super_bowl_shuffle/">click here</a> to see the '86 Bears) and, again, the New England Patriots (<a href="http://sports.aol.com/fanhouse/2008/01/27/random-youtube-magic-1986-patriots-super-bowl-video/">click here</a> to see the '86 Pats).<br /><br />What I found was that I totally missed my calling in life. My journal coverage of Super Bowl XX was on par with some of the greatest sports writers in America.<br /><br />It was better than, like, the sports coverage you get in your newspaper. I didn't just talk about the game, I talked about what I did that day leading up to the game, building suspense up until the part where I reveal the outcome.<br /><br />I could have been a writer for Sports Illustrated, but I just didn't recognize my talent back then... Now I know... Now I know... And now I want you to know about the brilliant voice the sports world never got to hear:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">1-20-86<br />On Sunday morning I woke up watched tv then my friend came over and we played <a href="http://classicgaming.gamespy.com/colecovision/">coleco vision</a>. After we finished playing I had a basketball game and we lost the game by three points and I scored six points. After the game I watched Super Bowl over my friends house and the Bears creamed them. When I got home I did my homework then went to bed. </span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-17227104652888143682008-02-03T15:23:00.000-05:002008-02-04T00:15:01.080-05:00Oh Ricky What a Pity: A Bowler's Brush With Perfection<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAu1of9kWNhEWVNRWs6OfoC-P8HbHzQ0eVG6ByM7URAGo3UR_KouCgiskrNZlrT-LsC7AaUvSyrl1ee5xRdRZfjaYBjym8Qlm0sY3fqUmKsrFt3CcE7f6t268A5EC4byDj0b9ZfgCYy645/s1600-h/RickyWard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAu1of9kWNhEWVNRWs6OfoC-P8HbHzQ0eVG6ByM7URAGo3UR_KouCgiskrNZlrT-LsC7AaUvSyrl1ee5xRdRZfjaYBjym8Qlm0sY3fqUmKsrFt3CcE7f6t268A5EC4byDj0b9ZfgCYy645/s320/RickyWard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162852883479095634" border="0" /></a>There's been a lot of talk this week about the New England Patriots and "<a href="http://absolutelyalex.wordpress.com/2008/02/03/super-bowl-history-or-upset/">the perfect season</a>" that they have a chance to complete after today's Super Bowl game against the New York Giants.<br /><br />To get warmed up for this potentially historic game, I tuned into what I thought was a historic bowling match on ESPN Classic. I mean, why would they bother showing bowling on ESPN Classic unless it was an important can't-miss bowling match? Right?<br /><br />And so I sat at the edge of my seat, cheering on Ricky Ward as he toyed with perfection, throwing strike after strike after strike... and when Ricky threw his eighth in a row, pointed his index fingers to the sky and brought them down to his hips as if they were guns going into holsters, I jumped up and screamed "Shoot those pins down Ricky! Shoot 'em down!!!"<br /><br />He was like a machine. There was no stopping him. In fact, at one point, the announcer chimed in with a brilliantly clever homage to the Go-go's hit song <a href="http://www.lyricsdownload.com/gos-go-hey-mickey-lyrics.html">Hey Mickey</a>!: "Oh Ricky ... can't you understand... Nobody throws strikes like you Ricky."<br /><br />And just when I thought the inevitable was about to happen -- perfection, a 300 game, a classic ESPN Classic moment -- Ricky left the seven pin standing. I paused on that last-standing pin with my DVR controller, and just stared at it for several minutes asking questions like: "Why pin? Why didn't you fall? And why did I waste my afternoon watching a non-classic bowling match on ESPN Classic?"<br /><br />I don't know where Ricky is at now, if he's still bowling, or if he became a homeless drunk after missing his 300 chance... because most homeless people are former professional bowlers. Look it up... But wherever he is, I bet he's thinking about that seven pin. I know I'll be thinking about it for a while. And if you're Tom Brady and the New England Patriots, and you get a chance to read my blog before tonight's game, there's a lesson to be learned from Ricky. Don't let the seven pin get in the way of your dreams. Knock it down Tom. Knock it down.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Update: Giants 17 Patriots 14 ... apparently the Patriots didn't have a chance to read my blog. </span>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-54962635075063372882008-01-29T08:08:00.000-05:002008-01-29T18:27:14.448-05:00Mayor of Detroit Caught Hot Tubbing With a Turtle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsd3yYWdhyQBi2dCK_68Xwl5PHJ723pxyqL0X5NMtwRdCvM_OjsIdhcGBNLcVFfvNxLsINbAnOlNgwP0crMWWo-mgmonf_YsWWSOMWg7VSn1BSHwemWCAI0f0ANU7UIuWDWU055sj1dpkU/s1600-h/kwameturtle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsd3yYWdhyQBi2dCK_68Xwl5PHJ723pxyqL0X5NMtwRdCvM_OjsIdhcGBNLcVFfvNxLsINbAnOlNgwP0crMWWo-mgmonf_YsWWSOMWg7VSn1BSHwemWCAI0f0ANU7UIuWDWU055sj1dpkU/s200/kwameturtle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160896268177729858" border="0" /></a>Who is Carmen Slowski? A turtle? And is the mayor of Detroit, Kwame Kilpatrick, having an affair with this turtle?<br /><br />That was my take on an <a href="http://www.detnews.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080126/METRO/801260383">article</a> I read in the Detroit News today, where Kilpatrick is described by sources as being seen (Or heard? It doesn't really say.) sharing a hot tub and a glass of champagne with the slow-moving reptile. This comes just after the local papers released records of <a href="http://burketthumor.blogspot.com/2008/01/lol-lol-detroit-mayors-sexy-texts-lack.html">saucy text messages</a> he exchanged with his chief of staff Christine Beatty, who is a human... although she does kind of <a href="http://cmsimg.freep.com/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?NewTbl=1&Avis=C4&Dato=20080128&Kategori=NEWS&Lopenr=801280802&Ref=PH&Item=1&MaxW=470&MaxH=400&border=0">look like a giraffe</a>.<br /><br />Below is the excerpt about the turtle sex from the newspaper, highlighted in a turtle-friendly text color:<br /><div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic;">Investigative reporter Steve Wilson of WXYZ-TV said his sources told him the woman at the hotel resort was definitely not the mayor's wife, Carlita.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">According to Wilson's report, the woman identified herself as Carmen Slowski at the spa. The name "Slowski" is similar to the name of the Slowskys, husband and wife turtles featured in several Comcast Cable commercials promoting high-speed Internet.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">So, yeah, my take from this is that the mayor is hooking up with a female, cable TV mogul turtle. Now, as to how serious the relationship is, I'm not sure. He might just be in it for the free high-speed Internet. </span><br /></div>Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-34643121889987939422008-01-25T23:34:00.000-05:002008-01-26T00:41:10.087-05:00Pre Super Bowl Week Is So Depressing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3bK0Yi0GjW0s_6oFpLKz1QQsSkht4JZXiywJ66TIK8qrOdvq1M2P2586k5ri2cTqkB6b7kEGfl-gEGPqmMuA8q9_DGka8dEV_l5VnsqPcoksPvszpWGEsK6jWNtr8OxgKFqCMsnTMXi4/s1600-h/footballcake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3bK0Yi0GjW0s_6oFpLKz1QQsSkht4JZXiywJ66TIK8qrOdvq1M2P2586k5ri2cTqkB6b7kEGfl-gEGPqmMuA8q9_DGka8dEV_l5VnsqPcoksPvszpWGEsK6jWNtr8OxgKFqCMsnTMXi4/s320/footballcake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159654992564414770" border="0" /></a>Why is the week before the Super Bowl always so depressing? I guess it's that way whenever you have any big event coming up, like a high school class reunion, the birth of your first child or the season finale of <a href="http://www.vh1.com/shows/dyn/rock_of_love/series.jhtml">Rock of Love</a>. The anticipation kills you. It, like, puts your life on hold until it finally happens and then you can move on.<br /><br />I'm sitting here looking at the large bags of potato chips, pretzels and scoopable nacho chips and the <a href="http://www.sunmaid.com/en/products/products_raisins.html#raisins_3">six-pack of Sun Maid Raisins</a> -- my favorite Super Bowl snack -- sitting on the counter unopened, all snacks I purchased for the party we're having for next week's big game. There's a seven-layer dip in the fridge, too, that my wife made ahead of time, just so the top layer has time to solidify and force you to break through with your chip to get to the gooey core. And I already made my signature kickoff cake (pictured, above). I probably should have waited on that one, so it would be fresher, but I suppose if it toughens up a bit its texture will be more authentic, like pigskin. And then there's a whole keg of <a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=rFCdhr6l3ls">O'Doul's </a>on the back porch, getting chilled in the Michigan winter... the perfect beverage for a group of Super Bowl Sunday partiers who are concerned about getting to work on time on Monday.<br /><br />And I already purchased my square in the office Super Bowl pool. I've been staring at my numbers for the past three days -- and will probably continue to do so throughout next week -- trying to figure out what scenario would enable both teams to have a score ending in 9. Maybe if the game ends up in a tie, like 29 to 29, then they would split the trophy and I would win the office pool... It could happen.<br /><br />Well, it's officially past midnight, which makes it Saturday. That means we're only eight days away now. It's probably good. I'll need the extra time to figure out what <a href="http://bleacherreport.com/articles/7367-NFL-New_England_Patriots-New_York_Giants-Coach_from_the_Couch_Only_a_Giant_Effort_Will_Stop_the_Pats_Perfect_Season">roman numerals</a> to use for this Super Bowl <a href="http://decoupagevillage.blogspot.com/">decoupage</a> I'm doing for my party. It's totally going to blow people away. I can't wait! Seriously. I can't wait.Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138299144143802717.post-35588328624643954842008-01-25T01:01:00.001-05:002008-01-25T08:23:29.213-05:00LOL! LOL! Detroit Mayor's Sexy Texts Lack Shorthand Skillz<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonTviLxRUmZTKBQxOesQmqfNc6xlCeDoFR2lfvPYWiZmF8MR0ia1Zo_TJSAFzvCKSSJlY81tRNBkuDFapQzvSZE4BkWWhAVxEJkTsKIndOvG9N54N2RcU2dxarY1uLDelYRLcwi1Lzazh/s1600-h/textmessage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonTviLxRUmZTKBQxOesQmqfNc6xlCeDoFR2lfvPYWiZmF8MR0ia1Zo_TJSAFzvCKSSJlY81tRNBkuDFapQzvSZE4BkWWhAVxEJkTsKIndOvG9N54N2RcU2dxarY1uLDelYRLcwi1Lzazh/s320/textmessage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159295959068272898" border="0" /></a>My city's mayor (Deeetroit!) is in a <a href="http://www.freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080123/NEWS05/301230004">whole-lotta trouble</a>. But before I get to what's bothering me about this sitcheation, let me throw out this quick explanatory timeline for my national and international readers:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2002 to 2003ish:</span> Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick exchanges 14,000 hot, steamy, and dreamy <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PqU2WXKcUb0">Boys-II-Men-"I'll-Make-Love-To-You"-like</a> text messages with his chief of staff Christine Beatty... on their city-issued CrackBerrys.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">August 2007:</span> Kilpatrick and Beatty, at a police whistle-blower trial, both testify, under oath, that they are "unfamiliar with each other's private parts." (Actually, that's not the real quote, but I thought it would be cool if it was.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yesterday: </span>The Detroit Free Press publishes a PG-13 sampling of the 14,000 text messages. And the mayor runs off to his $400,000 home in Florida with his family, all while his fate is being determined back in the Motor City.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>OMG!!!<br /><br />OK. So now that you know the story, you're probably going through the whole "What were they thinking?" phase, and once you get past that you'll go into the "Seriously. What were they thinking?" phase. But once you get past all that, you'll want to start breaking this thing down into specifics... that's where I'm at. I'm over the whole affair thing and the lying and the wasting of city taxpayer dollars and all that; what I'm more concerned about is their ignorance or laziness when it comes to using <a href="http://www.netlingo.com/emailsh.cfm">text message shorthand</a>. LOL! LOL! That's all they got!<br /><br />LOL is used 14 times in the small sampling of texts pictured in the image, above. And sometimes twice in a row. Think about it. Who laughs out loud twice in a row after reading a text message? They must have been having some pretty hilarious love-making sessions for it to be so funny to read on a CrackBerry display. "She said, 'boobies.' Ha Ha Ha! ... Ha Ha Ha!" "He said, 'balls.' Hee Hee Hee! ... Hee! Hee! Hee!"<br /><br />If these two would have spent less time laughing out loud and more time studying text message shorthand, they wouldn't be in this mess. Let's do a little exercise here and take a couple of the text messages and see if we can't convert them into something that would be a little more difficult for authorities to translate:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Actual Message Exchange</span><br />Beatty: <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"</span>And, did you miss me, sexually?<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"</span></span><p> Kilpatrick: "<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Hell yeah! You couldn't tell. I want some more.</span>"</p><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Shorthand Conversion</span><br />Beatty: "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">&, did u miss r 121 1174?</span>" That actually translates into "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">And, did you miss our one to one nude club?</span>" But it pretty much gets the same point across, right?<br /><br />Kilpatrick: "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">ADIH. MTF.</span>" Which translates into "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Another day in hell. More to follow.</span>" Again, it's not exact, but much more difficult to trace than their over-wordy, literal exchanges.<br /><br />Let's try one more.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Actual Message Exchange</span><br />Kilpatrick: "<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">I'm madly in love with you.</span>"<br /><br />Beatty: "<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">I hope you feel that way for a long time.</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">In case you haven't noticed, I am madly in love with you, too!</span>"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Shorthand Conversion<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span></span>Kilpatrick: "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">LUMTP.</span>" Translates into "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Love you more than pie,</span>" which I think works better anyway because if you've seen the mayor, he's a pretty big guy, so that's saying a lot.<br /><br />Beatty: "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">ATSL.<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">ILYPT.</span>" Which spells out "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Along the same lines. </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I love your pie, too.</span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"</span></span><br /><br />See. That wasn't so hard. I think the lesson to be learned here is: If your loins are burning for a 14,000-text romance, just stick to the KISS (Keep it shorthand stupid).Adamskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15238015105992588762noreply@blogger.com0