http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/ en-us Nucleus v3.1 © Weblog http://backend.userland.com/rss http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog//nucleus/nucleus2.gif http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/ http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=289 ‘Never trust a fart.’ Really, it’s good advice.

Like Forrest Gump’s famous box of chocolates quote, the same can be said of farts – ‘you just never know what you’re gonna get.’ I mean let’s face it, we’ve all tried to slip one out during church, a board meeting, weddings, parties, etc., ……but it’s just plain crazy business and really you’re just rolling the dice like a table in Vegas. Sometimes you win, but some times you crap out.

Classic case in point: Those endless board meetings in the conference room that go on forever can be a fertile ground zero for a most dreaded outcome. You stayed up late with the ‘brainstorming team’ the night before, crunching the numbers for tomorrow’s big meet. You pounded down some crab cakes and black beans, foreshadowed by the Venetian salad (with extra dressing of course), flushed it down with several beers, and washed it all away doing vodka shooters with the team just prior to ‘calling it a day’. The next morning you skip a solid breakfast and pound some double espresso Starbucks and choke off a greasy donut rushing your way to the meeting. Like the Greek god Poseidon, you just created The Perfect Storm and most of it’s been stewing all night – AND, after all these years…….you’re still too dumb to realize what you’ve done. Yeah, and some of us are offended the Bible likens us to the intelligence of sheep.

Fast forward to mid meeting. There’s a pause in the agenda as the other team members are running a number crunching session at the far end of the table. Some get up for coffee; some stay put and review their notes. You’ve been feeling the rumblings for over an hour. Again, you’re just dumb enough to conclude from the mental scan of your internal workings that it’s not yet time for a full #2, but rather just probably some gas. However, you’ve been to college, so you run your personal full system internal scan again. You’re ‘sold’ now. Its just gas. No reason to get up, and after all the exit door is at the far end of the room, and the meetings about to pick back up any sec. You lean slightly forward {giving the impression you’re reaching for that note pad in front of you}. A quick glance around with your eyes. Good, good, ….no one’s looking. Now, just a little test squeeze, …left leg seems tense, starting to shake a bit,…..back off just a hair…..all systems seem good, chair seat is good and cushy, should be a good sound barrier, ….squeezing the trigger a little harder now……..and,…..here…..we…..go….
BAM!!!! SPLOOT!!! Your eyes widen, your mind races to grasp the horror of the reality that just filled your pants. ‘My God!…not here, not now, …not in this suit, NOT in this room!!!!’ All units report in from your outpost nerves at the south pole hole confirm the moisture content. Mental memo translates to brain: ‘we have delivery!’

Here’s where the battle’s won or lost folks. You must act quickly! This is NOT something you can wait out, not in the remote. No matter how witty you are – you will NOT simply pass this ‘event’ off and hope that no one notices. Suddenly the once large conference room turns into a tight closet meeting with your closest 15 co-workers and bosses sitting duck, duck, goose style all around you. You may loose this battle for your corporate image, what you do next determines your future. Trouser Chili cannot be ignored! In fact, I dare say it WON’T be ignored. It wants to be noticed! It’s a party crasher, and demands attention. It’s the smelly, drunk guy that bursts into the wedding and vomits on the bride. It’s the fat, old, medicated Elvis that hisses and growls at the audience and forgets his lyrics. It loves the surprise, the screams and gagging from the crowd, …but more than all, it’s here to taint your image - forever. That dollop of Hormel planted square in your shorts must be contained, but you can’t let the others know of its evil presence, …..so here’s where you tested with fire! Are you steel, or are you paper?

Some idiots have the balls to tell everyone, “I just crapped my pants.” Some stand and testify; “My lord, I just pooted, and…and….”, then break down into a sobbing mess. The worst of the worst raise their hands, smile and blurt; “It’s OK!! I’m wearing Depends!!” These are the ones you see next Christmas jumping off the 15th street bridge. They made the wrong decision. They were under the false assumption that the room full of intelligent corporate members would be understanding, sympathetic, and perhaps even helpful. You’d be better off filming yourself poking a Grizzly with a short stick and posting it on YouTube. NOTE: you do NOT tell the group about the panty pudd’n, that is rule # 1. You will be talked about and ridiculed for decades to come. No one in the company will ever sit in that chair of yours again. But, let’s play the devil’s advocate, let’s say a few years have passed and Stewart Pritchard from accounting dives into the meeting late and grabs the first chair he can find. A few chuckles murmur around the room, and ole Stewart realizes something is up. The IT guy mentions: “You know Stew, that’s the chair Bob soiled himself in?” Like I said, a few years have passed….so what do you think will be ole Stew’s reaction? You think old number cruncher’s just going to stay planted? No. He’ll shoot out of the chair like he just sat dooky maker flat on a rusted tack.

Anyway, seconds have already ticked by. Your moments away from a career-ending event. No one wants old poopy pants in the next meeting. So what do you do? You don’t stand and shout: “Heavens!!! I left biscuits in the oven!!” No one cares. You don’t yell “fire” and hope everyone will run. Never works, and then your just labeled a fear monger.

Here’s what you do to get out of this yawning pit of employment and social image death. Act as if you’re reaching for a pencil and then knock your coffee all over you. Dowse yourself, your papers, sacrifice the Blackberry if you have to …..but get that coffee ALL over you. Baptize yourself in it! Make it a coffee Niagara. Sure, there will be some slight gasps, some passing chuckles, but sympathy will quickly set in. Like the Tijuana Wet Step you got brewing in your pants, the coffee is also brown and will help conceal / mask any leakage that has begun to occur. Another beautiful effect of the coffee shower is that people will scoot back away from you like you’re a leper. Good. Now you’ve just cleared some room and put some distance between your toxic ass and your co-workers. If the stars are aligned in your favor that day (which they’re probably not because you just had a hurricane in your britches) but the coffee toss may also clear you a direct path to the door. Immediately jump up and yell ‘damn it!!’ These are grown folk in the room, so a little profanity is understood. Quickly look at your watch then add: “I’m supposed to be closing the Danforth project in less than two hours!!” Boom! Now you have an instant pass to run for the house to change, with no dock in pay. Don’t worry about any of the group picking up on the scent of your fish market trash dumpster corn spitter as you fly by, they’ll just think someone broke wind in a panic when the coffee spilled. The smell will leave with you.

Trust me, you’re free! Your career, your future is still safe! The upside is that you’ll actually gain some respect from some of those in the meeting, knowing that you’re running home to change in order to still keep your schedule and not cancel a closing over a simple “coffee accident”. You just went from zero to hero. Think of it, moments ago you did the Jack Lalane Juicer Two Step in your suit, and now as you fly through red lights on your way home they’re saying things back in the boardroom like; “That’s why we hired Bob, he’s a real go getter! He doesn’t shit his pants at the slightest glitch in plans!”
]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=289 Wed, 23 Jul 2008 14:15:54 -0700 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=288 "Ouch!! Damn that hurts!! Oh God, my leg, MY LEG!!!" Bears may not be brilliant, but do know they're experts as a killing machine. It's what they do! They know when something is dead or not. Actually, playing dead only pisses off the bear more, and your 'playing dead' will only serve to become a reality for you as you painfully drift into true dead mode. Besides, let's just say you are successful in your Oscar winning moment, and you fool the bear into thinking you're dead. He will only then shift directly out of the 'killing phase', into the 'eating phase', thus you're screwed there too. Bears always 'clean their plates.' Anyway, I've yet to meet the Tony Robbins, Personal Power person, mind over matter types who can keep up the 'playing dead' gig while they're being eaten. Lastly, the noise making suggestions are just plain lame when it comes to warding off bear attacks. Banging pots and pans, shaking bells, blowing whistles or whatever.....those are just a dinner bell to the Grizzly. He loves that crap! All you're doing is providing dinner music for the bear to enjoy his meal by, and offering a tempo for his chewing. So, there you are. Bon appetite, Teddy!


]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=288 Wed, 23 Apr 2008 10:01:00 -0700 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=287
“Rolling Stone Keith Richards has changed his tune about inhaling his father, according to a report.
Richards told Blender magazine for its May issue that he did indeed snort a bit of his late father.
"I opened my dad's ashes and some of them blew out over the table, just because of the suction of the lid, you know what I mean?" Richards told the magazine.
"I looked at my dad's ashes down there and — what am I gonna do? Do I desecrate them with a dustbin and broom? So I wet me #!!@ finger and I shoved a little bit of Dad up me *##!!@* hooter," he said. "The rest of them I put round an oak tree, which is coming up a treat. And I'm sure he's still blessing me."
Richards told Blender that no cocaine was involved in the incident.
"I no longer do cocaine — I'm not allowed to since I broke my head open, otherwise I'd be right in, baby!" he told the magazine. "Nothing stops the old snorter!”

Ole Chopper here responds to this by adding;…………………uh, ………..ummmmm,……uh…., huh, well,…..uh….., ummm.......oh nevermind. Nothing. I’m speechless.


]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=287 Tue, 15 Apr 2008 14:08:41 -0700 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=286 exactly what we need to do in China. Let the games begin, damn it!
]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=286 Thu, 10 Apr 2008 16:30:07 -0700 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=285
Imus was fired for saying what? "Nappy-headed hos"?

Rev. Wright tells his congregation to say "God Damn America" and calls it the "United States of White America" and that's okay?

Come on, America, WAKE UP! This is Obama's pastor, a (now former) campaign member, and a racist man who hates his country. Do you think Obama really feels any differently? If he and his pastor don't see eye to eye, then why does his wife say she's just managed to feel proud of her country for the first time in her life in the last month? Maybe he disagrees with her too.

Although, let's just be honest for minute and admit it, it's more likely the man who says his campaign isn't about race probably lines up with the people closest to him.

This Democratic primary is a joke. Hillary is likely a white-collar criminal herself, but she looks above board compared to this guy. Barrack Obama is an embarrassment to this country.

He was placed into the state legislature by a Chicago "fixer" who is now being indicted for fraud and corruption charges. He and Barrack bought property together, but I'm sure Barrack is clean. Barrack's wife has no pride in her country, but I'm sure Barrack does. Barrack's pastor is a racist who hates America, but I'm sure Barrack doesn't. Come one, Hollywood says he's the right guy and those quality individuals can't possibly be wrong. I'm betting Britney is voting for him, so you have to support him, there's just no other way.

Regarding Rev. Wright: Why do we willfully allow such hateful speech in our nation when we'll fire another (i.e. white) man for an inappropriate joke incorporating gansta rap ebonics?

It's pathetic, really, that so many dopes in this country have bought in to the "Audacity of Hope" gibberish. Even Jesse Jackson once asks where the substance was behind Barrack's message! Holy crap, America, pull your heads out of American Idol and think for two seconds! Think! This silliness has to stop or we are all going to really have trouble feeling proud of our country....]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=285 Sun, 16 Mar 2008 19:13:52 -0700 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=284
Her house is like a living Ripley’s museum. She’s got ancient crap of yours that even you didn’t know you had – OR ever cared about. But, it means something to her, God love her. She’s a garage sale junkie that never seems to sell shit, only collects it. She’s got over five couches in her living room. They don’t even fit right. They’re just rowed one right behind the other. Tables, lamps, gadgets, widgets, bowls, “arrangements” of some alien blend, candy from days of old and paintings that make a velvet Elvis one seem like true art (which of course it is). There’s drawers full of a million Bic pens…….LONG run out of ink, but yet they hang in there like Rocky going the full 15 rounds.

The two questions my entire family learned not to ask many moons ago about any object discovered in that tomb of a house of hers was: “What is this?” OR “Why do you still have ‘this’, why don’t you just throw it away?” Both queries elicit a response and reaction that takes longer to listen to than an explanation of various philosophical debates. The typical house floor plan is laid out in rooms, hallways, and dwelling areas. Her house is laid out in narrow paths stitching their way through corridors of stuff that only Fred Sandford would crave. They weave and meander through twists and turns of boxes, stacks of magazines, books, side tables, chairs…….and ‘oh, look …what’s this refrigerator doing in the living room?’ kind of trails. Personally I refer to them as the ‘trail of tears’ because each object along the yellow brick road brings forth a smiling tearful response of where that particular piece of shit came from, OR what piece of shit gave it to her.

Some good advice should you journey to Auntie’s Museum of Madness: don’t go to auntie’s house hungry. Her food sucks frog butt. It’s as old as one of those dusty books sitting in the foyer. Pieces of chocolate in a drawer (if unwrapped) have a white powdery coating to them indicating it was one of the first pieces of chocolate Mr. Hershey ever wrapped. Once, a long time ago, I was sitting in her kitchen listening to her rant about some tennis club she belonged to back in 19 whatever, and that she played doubles with some woman (yadda, yadda, yadda….add 35 minutes more of her yapping) and that’s why she has this flower vase sitting in a chair in front of the window. I didn’t get all of the story but I’m sure she mentioned that Eisenhower had something to do with it. Anyway, there was this piece of lasagna on a plate near the kitchen sink – and either I was delirious from her tale….or I could swear I saw it move. It didn’t crawl, mind you, just sort of wiggled a bit on it’s own. On another visit I was poking around in the kitchen (not out of hunger motives, but more like detective Colombo) and I opened the freezer. There was a carton of chocolate ice cream. When I opened it there was a darker, gooey, and slimy shell on the top indicating it had been in there at least since Nixon was in office. My aunt saw me looking at it. Dialouge:
Auntie: “Oh honey, ….you want some? You know you can sure have it, my darling precious nephew! Here, let me find you a bowl.”

Me: “Oh no, no. That’s OK. I don’t want any, but thank you.”

Auntie: “Oh pitty poo! Have some. It’s good.”

Me: “I’d rather not. It’s got this off color hardened slime goo age indicator on top of it.”

Auntie: “Why you’re silly. That’s just a 'flavor seal'.”

Me: “No it isn’t.”

Auntie: “It's just the ice cream’s hat. What’s underneath is fine!”

Me: “We shouldn’t disturb it.”

Auntie: “Nonsense. Here I’ll eat some.”

Me: “Please don’t.”

Auntie: “Why not?”

Me: “Because I don’t want to have to call 911, that's why.”

Auntie: “It’s perfectly fine.”

Me: “No, it’s perfectly cocooned. I don’t think it’s through molting yet.”

Auntie: “I don’t know where you come up with these ideas? The freezer is a certificate of freshness.”

Me: “Maybe, but this thing needs a death certificate. You should call the ice cream coroner.”

Auntie: “Well, …if you’re going to behave like that then you don’t deserve any.”

Me: “Thank God.”

Auntie: “Blasphemer!!”


Everybody should have a nutty aunt. Want mine? Lord love her.


]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=284 Wed, 13 Feb 2008 09:11:48 -0800 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=283
I don't care if that's been the biggest quoted line from the movie, .....that's also my review point and I'm sticking to it. AWESOME!!! (and I hate to use that word, ....but dude / and dudettes, ...it's so true...it's awesome.) VERY well done. Don't fall for all the crap about it being like The Bland Witch projects.....it's not!! This is done extremely well, and unlike the bland witch, this movie pays off in the end. Yeah, the handy cam is more than a little a shaky at times like some critics have pointed out, but it so works for this film.

This is everything you want a monster movie to be.....EVERYTHING!! There's no touchy-feely crap of "let's get to know the beast......or try to understand it" like the King Kong gong that's been banged so many times before......no sir, no way. Just more like a "let's get the HELL out of here and away from this damn thing!!!" It is a monster in the truest sense of the term! Just like when an injured and shaky Beth asks Rob in the film; "What is it??" Rob responds with the truest statement; "It's something very terrible, ...now come on let's go!"

If you're a monster movie fan and tired and bored with all the crap for the past two decades in creature features then you will LOVE this film. If you don't like monster flicks then you're going to hate it.

Plain and simple, no spoilers here.......go see it. It rocks!!

]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=283 Fri, 18 Jan 2008 11:46:26 -0800 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=282 “How am I doing? Busy, that’s how.” I didn’t dare utter another word, as I certainly didn’t want to complicate her day further, so I just hung up. When her boss called back later (trying to ‘butter me up’) we chit-chatted about the weather, our kids and talked about our favorite gum flavor before I ever so nicely told him that he and his services were “terminated.” Period. No questions. End of story.

While catching the tail end of the Regis & Kathy show the other day (as I watch only a few minutes of Regis, because watching too much of him can cause some type of cancer that I can't recall) but anyway he was chumming up the audience and ranting on about some poor customer service he had received. Nice to know ole Reej “the firecracker” feels the same way I do. He doesn’t tolerate it. Sure he’s peppy, upbeat and one happy rabid monkey, but even he gets his leash in a twist over surly customer service. He was in a roar about it too! Even his handlers couldn't calm him down with treats. I was in hurry and couldn't stay to finish the show but I think they had to taser him. Sorry I missed that. The last bit I saw he was on top of his stool throwing his own poop at Kathy. It was nutty.

My employees cringe when I’m in the office because they know I’m monitoring their every sentence and attitude when they’re on the phone with clients. They fear the IRS less than me. They know that I would ‘trim & cut’ ANY employee (no matter how long they’ve been with us) just as I would trim away and flush unruly and wily buttocks hair, and not give it a second thought – I’d even hum a happy tune while doing it. Gross analogy sure, but it’s dead on the money.

A simple key to your success: always let the client hear you smiling on the phone – even if you’ve lost a foot, hand or limb that day.
]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=282 Fri, 04 Jan 2008 15:19:37 -0800 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=281 “I’m so cute, I’m so cute, I’m so cute, I’m so cute”. Her gate was so jerky and heavily fueled that her ponytail swung back and forth like a cape buffalo’s tail swatting flies off its ass. She’s the type that is so snappy, so American and holiday sparkley that she has the reverse affect on you. Suddenly I’m feeling like a flaming liberal commie, a bitter Scrooge, and now apparently according to her report, a gravy-less retard. I was instantly pissed off. Still not sure that it wasn’t some cruel joke or true fact, but either way that it would play out - being utterly ticked off was my position of choice. Honestly, the way she was dressed and acted I would’ve been PO’d even if breakfast were on the house. Regardless, when she spouted proudly ‘we’re all out of gravy this morning’, I fired back with an immediate; “Bullshit!” I really didn’t mean to say that, and it honestly did just slip out…….however, being that I’m a gravy freak, A GRAVY FREAK, I cannot be held responsible for that outburst. Even a superior court judge would rule me mentally not capable of my actions at that moment. You could readily tell that Jingle Bells was searching through her stupid (and SMALL) memory bank back to orientation day at Cracker Barrel boot camp. Her ‘joyful’ eye twitched ever so slightly and you could just tell she was mentally thumbing through her ‘what to do if a customer acts this way’ section of the training manual. My eye twitched too, but more like Clint Eastwood’s when he’s about to go for his pistol. Gathering herself while pumping up her chipper persona, Merry Go Round thought for a moment, jerked her festive face slightly upward mustering all the positive customer service driven attitude she could gather and informed me that they had been extremely busy this morning and apparently the gravy gorillas had descended upon CB early in preparation for the busiest shopping day of the year. Truly, now I know why it’s called Black Friday…..because there’s no more freak’n gravy!!! I told her that surely there must be government and federal reserves on saw mill gravy – and if not then perhaps some at a state or local level, but that sarcasm fell flat with Polly Positive. Not wanting to relent on my dark sarcastic track, I inquired if Cracker Barrel had a gravy vault or a gravy back up closet or bunker, something in the form of ‘break glass only in the event of running out of gravy’? Then she did something that really set me off, while informing me that CB had no such contingency plan accented by her fake forced smile, she did a momentary glance around at her other tables as if I were boring her with my questions and keeping her from her sworn ‘keep the coffee cups full’ duty. She added a dose of that condescending head jerk back in my direction, the one with eyes closed like a slow drawn out blink and then opened them extra wide, eyebrows up to the max, lips tucked in, ready for whatever I shot next. I was on fire. I then inquired the obvious question if perhaps the cook could possibly make some more gravy and added that I’d be happy to wait. I would've had more luck asking a monkey to fart Mozart. It was at this point that Festive Francis’s true inner self came forward. She leaned forward, and in a whisper tone (as if just between me and her) uttered that she would go back to the kitchen and check. As soon as she said it I knew what that meant, ….in her mind I was playing checkers but she was playing chess. It was Cracker Barrel code for: ‘up yours turd bowl, I’m retreating back to the safety of my other cheerful and chipper tables and your grumpy gravy-less ass can just sit here unattended until you get in the spirit.’ I just knew there was a Ms. Grinch buried underneath all that mistletoe. I decided at that point I didn’t want any food brought to me from Candy Land Carla’s hands, Lord only knows what special ‘holiday cheer’ she might sprinkle on it. Thus, I put a penny under my glass of water and went one exit down I-40 to a neighboring Cracker B., where my prayers were answered. Not only did I get my gravy but also a hefty, and truly caring fully four star’d general mothering type waitress. As I sat there shoving gravy biscuits in my pie hole I poured out my horror story about the other gravy-less place and the Horrid Holiday Ringling Brother’s Reject who “waited” on me, I almost came to tears at several points of the recital. The big ole woman taking care of me just stood there and emotionally patted me with tons of “honey, honey, how terrible” comments and comfort words like a loving nurse in a mental ward. Sitting there, by the warmth of the fire, clogging my arteries, I was at last in hog heaven, fully gravy’d. Aaaaahhh! 'tis the season.]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=281 Fri, 23 Nov 2007 11:27:03 -0800 http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=280 “9/11 was an inside job!” – meaning that the U.S. government was not only behind the horror of 9/11 but also orchestrated the entire event. Bill stopped dead in his speech, turned towards the hecklers and responded; “An inside job??! …..how DARE you, …how DARE you??!!!” He later told them to “shut up” and let him speak.

I gotta hand it to ole 'slick' Willy, that was pretty slick boy, and his response was perfect. He put it better than anybody ever has regarding this whole mess! The U.S. government is not the traitor in all this, however, the conspiracy bunch TOTALLY is!! How dare you sink so low, and accuse this blessed nation of such an impossible act?! If you’re a conspiracy theorist on 9/11 then you…..ARE… the enemy, you hate this nation, and even Bill Clinton knows it. What does that tell ya?

Way to go Bill. You’ve got my full support on this issue. Eat that Rosie!
]]> General http://www.sonofelvis.com/soe_blog/index.php?itemid=280 Tue, 30 Oct 2007 15:12:28 -0700