Libertarianism And Things

Storms A Comin'

2011-08-26T07:09:00.000-07:00

I defy the Hurricane! But I will slink off to friends tomorrow. HIGHER GROUND! And food! I was right here during Isabel, in ought 3, in this place, but in a different chair. The old chair was losing some of its stuffing, so I moved it to the # 4 window, so if Irene sloshes through, it will get that chair first.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Isabel was not as powerful as Irene, but it took my power (not my superhuman powers, but rather, you know, the stuff that comes out of the plug) for 11 days. It was hot and nasty, and I was hungry and hor...and everything. So remember your tips...if the storm is coming your way, turn off the TV, and go to bed...under the covers where it is safe. Bye!

joey

I Ain't Gone Yet

2011-08-10T16:57:00.000-07:00

I haven't bloged lately because my mojo was waived to the side of the road by a state cop. Also I haven't been feeling so well. As soon as I get enough light in this room, I'll start back blogging and making you love me as much as I love you.

Now, go about your regular duties.

With all of my goodies wrapped up and ready to go...goodnight all!

Joey

The Ladies

2011-05-28T09:27:00.000-07:00

I think one is sinking deeper into middle age (I'm 39) when women, who in my prime (it was for about six months in the 70's) who once looked at you, then took another look, and then if you were lucky offered you a smoke and a beer (shows they just don't care) and you're off to a night of carnival pleasures not seen since John Barrymore died in "The House Of Mirrors", stop looking so much.

I was at the 7/11 today (they let me buy my stuff and leave without having me fill out a verbal requisition). I gathered up my goodies (goodies) and came here to the library to post so you people will know I'm still alive (completely, so far) and still have time later to look out my #4 window at the couple across the way doing something.

Back to the ladies. There were two today who looked at me, then as I looked at them, they just kept on moving (they were not that fat) and did not look again. I object to this. I miss the days when a girl who might be interested in you (not knowing what mysterious icckies your body held) looked the first time, and then looked again, and maybe even again, until you smiled.

I guess I could pay them.

Joey Postove

A Poem For The Peoples Of The World

2011-04-13T13:05:00.000-07:00

The flickering of our charm inexorably descends into the darkness of our ridiculousness. And beauty in any form fashion, type or of the heart, remains mostly to torture the soul in our disappointment. Perhaps, we are...No, Strike that.... Perhaps I am walking the plank on devil's piers. Hello Gorgeous

Room Cleaning Day

2011-04-12T13:52:00.000-07:00

I'm cleaning my room today. That is my bedroom, as I don't want to give you the impression I live in one room. I actually have two rooms, my bedroom AND my living room. But the bedroom is where I live, and the living room (where there is more stuff!) is my walk-through. Cleaning is both a cleansing and dirtying process. Cleansing in that I get a little workout and I find and throw away all my great junk I've often thought about, but never turned the mattress to look for. Who the hell turns mattress', anyway. Other than these spectacular cleaning fits I go on, the only time I turned my mattress was when I could no longer fit my butt around the coil that's been springing from it for the last few years. And dirtying, since I am such a slob, I foul myself with things I long ago forgot I lost. I found five spoons under my mattress. Since I don't eat under my mattress and the spoons can't eat without me, how they traversed from top to bottom will remain a mystery. Sure there are crumbs there. But that's part of the underbelly of mattress life. Crumbs migrating, I understand. Spoons, no. May God forgive me, but I found a bug. He was in a corner of the room I haven't visited lately, so what he was doing there (dead) is a question. There was nothing to eat. You'd think that if five spoons can get what must be five or six miles (in spoon measure) from the top of my mattress to the bottom, a once live bug could scarf out those same crumbs. Maybe he was just too stupid. He died for his dopiness. Too bad for him. Good for me. I really should give serious and careful thought to at some point in the future, after deliberating the subject, and considering the alternatives, to stop eating in my bedroom. It ain't such a good idea. And I've been lucky so far. I would hate to wake up one morning sharing my bed with a rat, who having been told of the good eats under Joe's bed, instead is contenting himself with suckling at my teat for nourishment. Well, back to cleaning! Joe

2010 WAS A BAD YEAR FOR NAPS

2011-03-19T10:11:00.000-07:00

My legs hurt tonight. I think it may be a combination of age and falling down the stairs this morning while going downstairs. I think I’m not getting enough sleep these days and one of the reasons I don’t get enough sleep is that I didn’t get enough naps this past year. And I blame the government.

As a Libertarian I enjoy blaming the government for as much and as many things as possible. I would even blame the government for cutbacks in government, if that were to ever happen, perhaps in a bizzaro universe. I certainly blame them for falling down the stairs this morning and the now throbbing pain in my legs. If I lived in Canada, I’d go get me some National Health, but the government in this country doesn’t offer that, so I just laid in bed today, with a slurpie, and rubbed my legs with liniment, none of which came from the government. Damn government.

Why did I fall down the stairs? Because in 2010 I didn’t get nearly the amount of naps I am used to. As an example, in 2009, I got a good one hour nap every afternoon. Sometimes, if I didn’t wake up, I’d even get two hours or more. It all depended on when I woke. But this year, because the government was so busy, doing things and making noise, my naps were nearly cut in half. That’s no way to run a country. Any nation that can send a man to the moon, can assure me that I’ll be able to get my afternoon nap. I need it! I love my nap so much. I get all scrunched up in my little bed, my favorite pillow right under my head, take off all my clothes (before the scrunching, that is) and take a wondrous trip to dreamland for an hour or two. It’s always helped that I’ve had long periods of unemployment, as this makes nap time much more convenient. And that’s only part of it. After my nap, when I get up, I have a glass of Ovaltine and an Oreo cookie as a reward for yet another successful nap. Now the government has ruined it for me. How would the government like it if they couldn’t take their nap when they wanted to?

And who the hell are you, anyway?

Joey

My Pants Are Getting Smaller

2011-03-18T13:07:00.000-07:00

First, I don't think it is any of you, here at the blog, who have been messing around with my pants. So, you're fine. Just don't touch my pants when they are near your house.

My number one pants (the pair I love and cherish, and wear over to the gas station across the street from my apartment) were hanging in my closet yesterday when I went for them, and I noticed that they were a little tight. I know I've been trying to save money by eating cheap eats at malt shops, gas stations, burger palaces, machines where you pull on a knob to get choco cookies and other convenient goodies. And perhaps I have put on a pound here and there, maybe more ass pounds than, say, hand or feet pounds, but I don't think my pants got that tight just from a little overeating on my part.

I had to use the ladies pay toilet downtown yesterday, because the men's was slippery, and Chester, the clean up dude, hadn't come in yet. Now, as most of you know, inside the ladies (this is the heterosexual ladies toilet, by the way) stall is a really good snack machine, with ice cream bars, extra crispy fried chicken, Yoo Hoo's, and lots of other fine chops to whet anyone's appetite while they're waiting to shit inside a heterosexual ladies toilet. Oh, yeah. The Lesbian toilet was also free, but I know what goes on inside there, and I was afraid. Gee, isn't that strange? I own the damn thing, and I'm afraid to use one of my own stalls. Weird world. The gay toilet was in use, as always, and I don't bother my gay brothers while they are doing what they do best. But I don't usually eat supper in my toilets, downtown. For a good, clean meal, try my family stalls at the beach.

Back to my pants. They are just too tight. Especially around the crotch, and tushy-meat. And, as you all know, those are my two most important areas, in or out of my pants. I did have a beer and some pizza while on the pot (you have to order out for pizza though. Maybe we should get an oven, huh?) and my pants were around my feet while I grunted just as hard as my tiny little voice could grunt. I grunted, and then grunted harder, and harder, and harder. Then a knock on the door came, and the pizza boy was here. Well, of course I was embarrassed, but what could I do? I unlocked the door and let him in. Naturally, I covered my personal goodies with a copy of the Ladies Home Companion.

As I sat there, half naked in my "Mrs. Toilet" (that's what we call the can for married ladies and where I was having a nice time just crapping away, without a care in the world) I contemplated my life. And hoped for better days. And used the phone to order some new pants.

I gave the pizza boy a slice of pizza and a drink of water, because I didn't have any change for a tip. What could I do? When a grown man doesn't have enough change for a decent tip for the delivery boy while sitting on the toilet, he does the best he can.

The end.

Joey

Japan And Me

2011-03-12T09:36:00.000-08:00

I feel like a heel writing about my own good luck while listening to the radio and reading the papers about the catastrophe in Japan.

I went to the ear doctor yesterday, and he didn't torture me (made me pay...what is this socialism?). Unlike the emergency room attendant who put some kind of big long stick all the way down my ear and twisted and turned the thing like Chubby Checker fucking Miss America, the real doctor put a little suction tube into the really bad ear (my hearing was really wanting, and the pressure was, well, pressuriffic) and sucked (I hope) all of the wax out of my ear. I can hear. I SAID I CAN HEAR! Damn, you folks ain't paying all of the attention I need to get by. So get in my car, and just listen.

Now, in the day since the doctor righted me, I am just nervous about the wax coming back. Certainly I'll stay away from Johnson Wax stores and automatic wax machines, as well as Waxy Berstein, an old friend from school, who now, I will unfortunately have to drop. I am not taking any chances, you people who love and respect me (ok like me...this ain't Facebook).

But I am playing with myself. WHAT! Get that dirt out of your head Mommy, and think upright. I mean that I put a hand over one ear, then another hand (I have the two) over the other ear (two of them too) to test my hearing. I have a feeling I'm going to be alright, but I need to test things, to make sure.

Now...may God have love and mercy on Japan. Back to the radio!

Joe

Post To All Of My Readers!

2011-02-19T07:36:00.001-08:00

As none of you have noticed, I haven't posted here (or peed in a 7/11 cup for that matter) for nearly a month. I have had some minor health issues; another skin cancer scare, it turned out that it is just the way it looks, and a loss of hearing presumably due to some extra ear wax I picked up from a prostitute in New Orleans. That's a lie, I have never been to New Orleans).

But the hearing loss is a real thing, sweety. The pressure and hearing loss got so bad last Monday that I went to the emergency room. The doctor there took the big hook that they use to decapitate patients to dig into my ear and get out lots of that dull waxy buildup we all so hate. Brace yourself....

MOTHERFUCKER! Yeewow! It was like an orgasm, except from the outside going in. I don't know what the ladies here would say about that, but that's how it felt. He twisted and turned that hook for about 15 minutes or so, and the pressure was alleviated and my hearing came back, some. MO...oh the hell, you know how I feel. Those of you men here who have had your dicks cut off in war or by accident in a slaughter-house know what I'm saying. They gave me some ear drops and referred me to an ENT. I thought they wanted me to go to the movies there for a minute until the sex nurse said that meant Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor. Gee, I hope you aren't required to have all three wrong to ENTer his office. I see him next week. That is if I don't go blind before then. Anyone know an eyes doctor? We used to have one at my pay toilet downtown, to help people see the pot better, and not pee all over the ground, but he retired to a little village called Titusville. He is now a tit doctor.

So that's why I have been so neglect in my duties to my blog. I have just felt like hell, nervous that I might have another skin tag (thank God it was just extra skin, which really, is all to the good, no?) and now I am not feeling all that (you know..."all that" like in the story books) and have just been going home after work to wax my ears.

I'll be around, honey, so please check in from time to time. If I ain't here. Check the men's room. It needs painting.

Love,

Joey

Fifty Years Ago

2011-01-20T07:37:00.000-08:00

We were taught that the coming of the Kennedy administration was that of a new generation, a new way of looking at the world, and understanding differently history that was now cosigned to the ash heap. It was a new beginning, and despite the death of JFK we would go on to remake the world with a new face. And I was only six years old when John Kennedy was killed! It was quite a lot for me to take in.

But take it I did. It was all one world now, we were the greatest in that world, however, so we Americans were to keep the baton and see to it that the world didn't fuck things up. Apparently, that was our job.

JFK, in his inaugural address to this new world, let every person listening know; the United States would see to it that if they made a mess, we would clean it up. And that communism was another economic system, that if it would only join hands with Americanism, other worldly wonders, like peace and scientific advancement, and all the other good things governments could provide were only a handshake away. Collective cooperation was the secret to keeping peace between free and unfree worlds. He promoted freedom, as that was his duty as president. But he gave a nod and a wink to those who enslaved their people.

But what I wanted to get to was something, the ONLY thing most people remember from the speech in 1961. "And so my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you-ask what you can do for country".

Growing up and hearing those words made me kind of proud. Of what, I was sure that it was to be an American, to be selfless, and giving to the world. Growing up results (thankfully) in being grown up. And so many years ago, I read those words, tossed them around in my salad bowl of a head, now filled with newer ideas based on timeless philosophies, and wondered what the hell was he talking about. Don't ask anything of your country, but be sure to ask her what you can do for her. I mean, whaaaaa?

In the old years, we were never allowed to criticize JFK. OK. He was assassinated, a martyr, and then, of course a saint. Time usually takes most saints down enough notches so that we can examine just why we got talked into the saint thing anyway. And so it was with John Kennedy. After his fall from grace, most of us would never canonize a politician again (this is what is happening with President Obama and his ouster from his brief fling with sainthood).

Today, we who have tv will see JFK and those words repeated more than the thousand days he spent in office. And I will still need someone to explain them to me.

The Shooting

2011-01-12T14:13:00.000-08:00

This week everyone is saying everything they can so that they can point all of their fingers at the political ideology who drove this guy to the event, helped him load the gun, and kill six people (including a nine year old girl and a retired conservative judge). It is as if the idiot pundits, particularly the left, but all of those trash talkers, wait for something like this to happen (or a terrorist event, or bombing a Federal building and such) so they can step up and say "told you"! I TOLD YOU! WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?
Listen to Rush Limbaugh, and go immediately to the front of the line to kill and maim. That's what the haters want, no?

I would from time to time have discussions with folks about libertarianism and Ayn Rand, just to name a couple of specifics. Time after time seemingly intelligent people would bray at the very mention of her name, and call her a fascist, Nazi, and all around bad girl. These same people, who mostly love government more than they could ever love another human being would take my beliefs about liberty and libertarianism, and how I would like to see them incorporated into a free world and twist my words into hate speak. I never spoke hate in my life.

The Tea Party, conservatives, libertarians, and assorted allies are in agreement about one thing above any disagreements on details they may have. They all want smaller government, less force and threats of violence, which is the only way the state gets what it wants and survives to live another day to get it some more. We, especially we libertarians, have philosophically renounced the use of force to achieve political goals. We participate in government, in the democratic process, as a compromise, to avoid anarchy, which does lead to true fascism.

Back to Ayn Rand. Fundamental to her philosophy of life was that the initiation of force was immoral. That force was only justified in response to its prior initiation and only in its proper proportion. So the next time you hear some nut go off about how the anti-government wackos are dangerous, remember we are the ones who believe in the constitutional limitation of government, maximization of freedom, and one day, not in my lifetime, I'm sure, bringing about a society that does not have as its core value the use of government as the Godhead of civil society.

Please remember. Only government has a monopoly on the legal use of the initiation of force and violence. That is what we want to diminish. We are the ones who want to lay down our guns, and bring about a truely free state of the people.

We want a government small enough so that we are not terrified by it.

Joe

New Congress Is Read Constitution...Flees In Horror!

2011-01-08T09:05:00.000-08:00

Well, they didn't run for the hills, but it must have been very uncomfortable for so many of our Congress-people to hear of this unusual sounding document that actually puts a little crimp in their massive monopolistic powers (remember that government is the only institution in the world with a legal monopoly on the initiation of the use of force).

But they sat still and listened to the strange man up front reading them instructions on how to behave. Some Goddamn nerve, huh? The liberals were thinking "whatta we do now" now that they were "reminded" (learned for the first time...is better) that they had just taken an oath of office that enumerated their powers. What the F...! (Family blog...sorry you freaks who like it when I use the F word, but I'm gonna spread my liberty seed far and wide and broadcast it to the world of the little children awaiting the wondrous words of liberty). If I have time, that is. I just didn't feel like using F right now, ok?

Now, what is this mysterious oath that Congress takes before they are awarded the keys to the treasury by Bob Barker? Before they can "ask" the Federal Reserve to buy some more paper from China, print up some T Bills, and sell the same pieces of paper back to the Chinese? Pretty good con, yeah? Just ink up that paper with lots of zeros and the foreigners come a runnin'. We're the Fuckin' United States Of America, and our bonds, notes and bills are backed by the full faith and credit of the same said Fuckin' United States Of America. Sorry about the fuckin', kids, but Daddy felt it was too important and wanted to make his point clear.

The oath: "I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.

The originally oath taken by the first Congress was " I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support the Constitution of the United States". No promise to defend the government, or foment war and revolution ALL over the world. Nothing in there about anything, except defending a piece of paper that once was so clear in its intent to guarantee the rights of man that are awarded by God.

They were so confident back then that the men entering the first Congress understood the Constitution, that they didn't even feel the need of God to back them up on this one. He was in the wings in case Alexander Hamilton caused a fuss, but they went about their business in 1787 without the explicit word of God (Almighty). Could either one be more simple? I know that probably half the people we elect are as dimwitted as the people who elect them. But there are lots of us out here who do not consider the Constitution a Talmudic tractate, and is awfully clear in the enumerated powers of the government. Baby, you're on target here. It is THE GOVERNMENT that is restrained by the constitution. Not the people.

So...112th Congress, I salute you, pray that the Tea Party doesn't run out of old bags to keep the lid on the most explosive kettle of fish in the whole wide world; The United States Congress.

Now we must pray.

Joe

New Year...Oh Dear

2011-01-04T13:55:00.000-08:00

I went to sleep at eight o'clock on New Year's eve last Friday night. I know all about this New Year's business. They get you to stay up late, watch Dick Clark drool out the count-down, then try to force feed you ham and eggs, notwithstanding whether or not you care for them. I happen to like them (notwithstanding my Judaism) and notwithstanding that I know I am annoying you with a certain little word that shall not go repeated.

I woke up the first day of the year, said to myself " big goddamn deal", and went back to sleep to have sex with this giant black woman who I have never seen before. God, man! What would you do? I may not respect the new year, but sex dreams come rarely, and I like my sexy dreamboats (is that guys? I am confused so much since I turned twenty). And sexy dreamboats is what I shall have.

Regrets? Yeah, I regret just about everything I've ever done, and they will soon walk me up the stairs to the gallows that they are now constructing outside my bedroom window. I believe they are for me and my many crimes, but they could be for my neighbor Herman, who has failed to pay his toilet tax two years running now. But my regrets are many. I regret that I failed miserably to get my fair share of women in the seventies when the worst thing you could get was...caught. And then in the eighties, even though I'm not Gay, Aids scared me off of the bosoms and purses of ladies for a while. Now, in my advanced state, wearing my skin cancer hat to hide from the sun and my greying hair simultaneously, I seem to be more invisible than ever. HA! If I ever was invisible, just think of the great and wondrous crimes I could commit with impunity. And I'm not even sure what impunity really means. But I would have to remember not to wear any clothes, as you're only invisible when you're naked; as everyone knows. The gallows shade grows larger. But so does the lotto pot.

Sleep well, my pretty thang.

Joey

New Year's

2010-12-30T13:13:00.000-08:00

Saturday is New Year's, and so what? If I wanna celebrate New Year's on for God's sake July Fuckth, I'll do it. I play by my rules and the new year comes when I say, for me.

Those of you who keep up with this blog know that 2010 was not the best of years for me, but who am I to complain? I saw a naked woman, about 40ish, pushing a wheel burrow full of cement over by the gas works. I think they're putting in a new candy machine. I hope they have Heath Bars. For without Heath Bars, no candy machine can rightly call itself by thouest name, saith the Lord. Plus a Yoo-Hoo machine like the one the have over at the gas station across the street from my apartment. The one with the bell ropes.

I don't have a TV now, but if I did, I'd be there with all of you watching Dick Clark (The world's oldest man) gum in the new year from his wheel chair in Palm Springs. He's not able to count down all the way these days, since his stroke, so when they get to four, he'll hand it off to Brian Secrest (is he gay?) who will do 4, 3, 2, 1, and let go of the rope that holds the Times Square Ball up in the air, and let it crash into the crowd, killing thousands.

Probably not, at least not on TV. Maybe after everyone goes home, he'll drop it on Dick and his wife, and see how they make out.

Cancer, back problems, stinky job, smaller pee-pee, and some good stuff made up 2010. But I would rather do 1975 again. But this time without the acne.

So those of you who plan to make it the next two days to the new year, let me take this opportunity to wish you a yada yada yada. And God bless us all, every one.

See you in 2011. If I don't get my hand stuck in the candy machine at the gas station across the street from my house trying to steal a Heath Bar.

Stalls will be open on your big ass day. Just make sure if you need to use my facilities, that your big ass ain't too big for my nice fur seats.

Shalom, Dagwood.

Christmas

2010-12-22T13:57:00.000-08:00

I'll be open for Christmas this year! Wide open like a prostitute on a warm summer's day. Open so lovely that Christian and Jew alike will swarm onto the downtown sector of Norfolk to see me open.

So I'm open. What do I have to prove now, big deal? I remember watching the "CBS Evening News" in the 1970's on a Christmas night and who should I see doing the news on this holy day, but Walter himself. Jesus Christ! I didn't see Him doing the news but old Walter was open to the public. He did have a nice Christmas, however. Leslie Stall (she was named after my toilet business) was underneath the desk playing with his journalistic integrity. And so it goes.

Christmas is, as you Christians know, is a nutty time for Jews. We have Hanukkah, and the Ladies Club Annual Daisy Chain, not to mention crucifying a member of our congregation, in honor of Christ, who belongs to us, even if we had to let him go on technicalities. Don't misunderstand me (I do that well enough myself) but Jesus had all of his Jewish bonifides, so we let him go cus he associated too much with gentiles. We can allow a lot of things, but we have to watch our tail when it comes to you people (I didn't mean you).

Also in December, I have my annual birthday celebration at the Vatican (the Pope ever so nicely took me by the hand last week and showed me the basement where they have the world's largest collection of porn. He tried to steer me towards the gay porn, but I pulled away before he could corner me, and I ran and ran and ran, until I could run no more. Boy was I tired. But I found the good stuff myself, and stuffed myself with candy bars and Yoo-Hoos from the snack machine in the Vatican basement. I did something else too. But I am so ashamed. And now I am blind. I hope God or Jesus will hold me in their arms and if they can't restore my sight, then at least array a host of snacks on my bed, back home, and let me eat all I want, or until I vomit.

No one can say I don't get all I can out of Christmas. I like a nice homo (whoops, I mean Homey) Christmas, and my friends, I do wish all of you who celebrate the holiday, A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!

And those of you who don't, well, just close the blinds, turn out the lights, and for God's sake don't answer the door. It may be a Christian!

Joey

PS...This will be my last blog until after Christmas because the Library is closed, and while the toilets will be open, the phones are double the price during the holidays. I stick it to the heathens, tra la la la la, la la, la, la.

See you next week, I love you all so much!

SWAK

My Birthday Was Yesterday

2010-12-18T09:03:00.000-08:00

Not to belabor the point, but yesterday I celebrated my entry into my 55th year on this planet. Oh God. I never meant to be this old. When I was 12, I thought 15 was ridiculous, when I was 25, 40 was disgusting. I mean really, really disgusting. The idea of making pup pup to a 40 year old woman would help me vomit. Which wasn't all bad of course. When I was 25 I ate some weird things. But a 40 year old woman? Aren't they supposed to be dead or something?

Now, when I do my pitiful little bit of grocery shopping at Cheapie's (it's next to my transgender pay toilet downtown) I find myself looking at 60 year old women (today's 60 is really 40...right) with verve. This is insanity, but I look at 60 year old bosoms as worthy of my mouth and hands. Indeed, I am outraged at me. In the past, I would have dismissed them as trash, and thrown not only the bosoms, but all of the lady's sex organs down the chute.

My own sex organs are not what they used to be (I have only the one...right?) In my wretched past, I could have walked down the street full of the sexual excitement I craved but rarely got. Now (I know you really don't want to hear this, so don't read it out loud, for goodness sake. Who am I, God?) I can go days and not even think about my most wonderous of buddies living in the prime real estate that was once between my legs. Now he just lives in semi-retirement, only knocking at my door once or twice a week to see if he can come out and play.

But turning 54 is not all about sex. One does think of his mortality, naturally. At 40 I thought I had the rest of my life before me. Now, I just think that I have the rest of my life before me. If a stroke, heart attack, cancer, city bus, choking, being beaten to death, shot in the head or gut, earthquake, and all of the other various assorted ways I'll may die don't get me, I may live to 94, still here writing my blog, checking my lottery tickets, and with my balls down to knees.

I need a drink.

Joey

The Horrible Wretched Cold...And My Birthday

2010-12-14T13:28:00.000-08:00

I was driving through the tunnel to get to the next town over this morning on my appointed rounds, and I was so roughed up from the "feels like" eight degree cold and the nice warm van (I turned the heat all the way up...probably to 100) that I couldn't see straight. Sideways, I was alright. But straight seeing, I was all fouled up.

I want it to be warmer. Dear God, as we approach the birthday of your son, please consider Norfolk, Virginia as deserving of more heat, especially when I go to work, and also so that when I go through the tunnel I can see straight ahead, as sideways looking would only make me hit the wall, and the man in the tunnel that waves to me whenever I go through, would have to scrape me off of the sides, and this would make him unhappy.

Norfolk is a southern town, Lord. So when you are adjusting the universal thermostat, please have Jesus set us on 72 degrees. I realize that many of my fellow Jews are in Miami, but we little Jews in Norfolk need your Good and Godly help.

Say...Lord, is Moses still alive in Heaven? And when Santa flies right over my house again this year, please inform him, that Jews have feelings too.
If just a card, we would feel that the Christian fellows who run the world and universe haven't forgotten that good old Jesus was a Heeb.

God Bless.

My birthday is this Friday. I'll be 39 (Christ! My hands won't let me lie to God...OK, I'll be 54. But I look 39. Let's just say I'm 39, just for fun.) I would like a new computer, some cash (small bills), a new TV set, and a big block of cheese. Oh, how I love cheese. I could suck it right out of the cow, and shake it up inside me, and I'm a cheeseman! Also, peace on earth, and goodwill toward men (and girls between 18 and 60 with big tits).

I'll write Santa for my Christmas goodies. I hope you'll take care of my birthday list.

Thanks, Lord.

Joey In Norfolk

John

2010-12-07T13:04:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, the eighth of December is the 30th anniversary of the murder of John Lennon.

I had it in my mind to write something poignant, and long, with remembrances of what John was to me, and how the whole world changed after he died.

I can't do it. I miss him. And I love him. And like the world after John, I am entirely tired.

PEACE NOW

Joe

My Pants Are Getting Smaller

2010-12-04T08:03:00.000-08:00

First, I don't think it is any of you, here at the blog, who have been messing around with my pants. So, you're fine. Just don't touch my pants when they are near your house.

My number one pants (the pair I love and cherish, and wear over to the gas station across the street from my apartment) were hanging in my closet yesterday when I went for them, and I noticed that they were a little tight. I know I've been trying to save money by eating cheap eats at malt shops, gas stations, burger palaces, machines where you pull on a knob to get choco cookies and other convenient goodies. And perhaps I have put on a pound here and there, maybe more ass pounds than, say, hand or feet pounds, but I don't think my pants got that tight just from a little overeating on my part.

I had to use the ladies pay toilet downtown yesterday, because the men's was slippery, and Chester, the clean up dude, hadn't come in yet. Now, as most of you know, inside the ladies (this is the heterosexual ladies toilet, by the way) stall is a really good snack machine, with ice cream bars, extra crispy fried chicken, Yoo Hoo's, and lots of other fine chops to whet anyone's appetite while they're waiting to shit inside a heterosexual ladies toilet. Oh, yeah. The Lesbian toilet was also free, but I know what goes on inside there, and I was afraid. Gee, isn't that strange? I own the damn thing, and I'm afraid to use one of my own stalls. Weird world. The gay toilet was in use, as always, and I don't bother my gay brothers while they are doing what they do best. But I don't usually eat supper in my toilets, downtown. For a good, clean meal, try my family stalls at the beach.

Back to my pants. They are just too tight. Especially around the crotch, and tushy-meat. And, as you all know, those are my two most important areas, in or out of my pants. I did have a beer and some pizza while on the pot (you have to order out for pizza though. Maybe we should get an oven, huh?) and my pants were around my feet while I grunted just as hard as my tiny little voice could grunt. I grunted, and then grunted harder, and harder, and harder. Then a knock on the door came, and the pizza boy was here. Well, of course I was embarrassed, but what could I do? I unlocked the door and let him in. Naturally, I covered my personal goodies with a copy of the Ladies Home Companion.

As I sat there, half naked in my "Mrs. Toilet" (that's what we call the can for married ladies and where I was having a nice time just crapping away, without a care in the world) I contemplated my life. And hoped for better days. And used the phone to order some new pants.

I gave the pizza boy a slice of pizza and a drink of water, because I didn't have any change for a tip. What could I do? When a grown man doesn't have enough change for a decent tip for the delivery boy while sitting on the toilet, he does the best he can.

The end.

Joey

Hurray For WikiLeaks

2010-11-30T14:08:00.000-08:00

WikiLeaks is doing great work in finally, perhaps, having the government understand that we are the masters and the G-Men are the servants. For the entire history of this nation along with other mischievous states around the world, we have, under the cover of "national security", "executive privilege", "top secret clearance", and all of the other bullshit the government hides from the people who pays the bills, become detached from the original intent of our founders, to be in large part, a business model in this respect, for the non-interference in the affairs of other nations around the world, affairs which have no bearing on the business of the United States.

The opposition to the leakers say that lives, reputations, and the ability of our "diplomats" to keep secret the identities of informants is in great peril because now the people of this nation know much more about what CIA, State Department, and other rouge outfits in this country are doing under our signature. Men, everyday our nation puts in grave danger military around the world in and out of combat. That argument won't wash. The greatest threat to the safety of the people of this country is our leaders engaging shady characters to pull out information from their supposed allies, and give it to us. The idea that we are putting foreign agents at risk is bogus. If we could not engage the agents in the first place, if indeed they believed that their lives could be in danger, and talking to U.S. spies would be harmful to their health, then maybe we couldn't commit this country to operations we shouldn't be involved in, in the first place.

A fresh, free, flow of information would make the average Pakistani think twice before becoming allied with United States undercover operations. And maybe we could leave the rest of world to clean up their own garbage that we only make worse by spreading around the shit.

Vivi WikiLeaks.!

Happy Thanksgiving...In Jail!

2010-11-24T12:56:00.000-08:00

So here we are again, kin. My most wonderful time of the year! If you're Andy Williams or a cool fart like him. But for us little 'un's and Jews who have to brace ourselves for the coming season of Christmas light and charity, I say get out of town while we can still hold onto our pupicks.

Its not that I don't like this winter season of faith and charity and goodwill to men. I just don't like the hypocrites who, like all of the white men who have advanced in this world by keeping their boot on my neck, treat us like the little shitties we may very well be. And then come the "holidays" and these very same guys who treat me like a free toilet (no respect for free toilets in this sector of Virginia) all year, suddenly turn into Christians, talk to me like I'm human, look interested in my thoughts and Judaism, and then, before you can piss into an empty beer can on New Years Eve, they knock a block our heads again to start the new year.

Fug 'em. Like Nixon would say about his enemies, just fug 'em. I'm going to spend my precious holiday with old man Swanson down by the microwave, then maybe go across the street to the gas station across the street from my house, have a banana Poopsicle, jump on the bell robes (I do so love that..the man comes out..and get this!...there's no car there!). I'll probably end the festivities with a full blown 10 center at my Pay Toilet Stalls in downtown Norfolk, where I'll stink up the world to my heart's content, and just fug 'em.

Fug 'em.

Happy holidays, bitch. In Jail!

Joe

Bananarama

2010-11-20T13:04:00.001-08:00

The banana boat from Havana came into Norfolk yesterday. However, because the men who were supposed to come up from Haiti to peel the bananas for pudding did not show up we took the banana shipment, and sold them to our resident rectal man at my pay toilets downtown, Dr. Ass, to use, as he saw fit(s) for banana enemas and other assorted bathroom varieties.

As we all gather along the family home in anticipation of Thanksgiving, I realize the shortage of fruit and other Thanksgiving delights may make this a less than absolutely fantastic, upper GI tract, many mouths to feed, holiday. But we live with what we have. And if on your Thanksgiving table this week, you don't see fruit cup, don't come crying to me. I do have a case. But I have to save it for the big buffet we're having this Thursday at the stalls. Hermaphrodites get in for half. Or is that for double? I could never get that straight. Shoot, Lord, that's like getting a herme herself straight. It takes legislation for that.

So, let us shine in the reflected glory of our wonderful election win, hoping the Tea Party peeps do our thing up right.

And serve the gravy hot.

Joe

God And Drunk

2010-11-13T08:38:00.000-08:00

I wish I had a taste for drink. I quit smoking, I ain't got a TV set, no Internet, and I think I saw a mouse in the kitchen. I would get sloshed every night if only I had a taste for tippling. But I do like the sex (I never got my fair share. I tried complaining to the Board Of Sex, but then I found out that it was just a board up on Church street where prosties lay out a board in the middle of the street and then work you. I don't need that.

I want a refrigerator filled with treats, lots of books, a radio, a girl to come in twice a week to clean the apartment, and a better attitude. And money. When I win the lotto, and all of my folks appear at my door for a "visit", I'll just pull a Jimmy Stewart on them and say "hey, listen, its not like the money is here. It's at the bank and in some stocks and bonds, and in Joe's house, and the Kennedy house. You've got it all wrong. Its not like its in the back in piles (it really would be...keep still). I love you all, and I want to share my most wonderful luck with all of you. Here's a number you can call to speak with the person who has the money right now. Call him, and see what's what? What What?

And in the meantime, I would have the biggest damn bed in Norfolk, free toilets all over the house, ice cream sandwiches, in a circle on my bed, and the book I'm reading now about the telegraph and telephone.

I don't need much anymore. Its been four years since my TV went to hell. Two years since my computer at home vomited and lost the Internet, and a year since I said bye to my home email. So now, just give me the money, ice cream, books, and a big bed with toilets all over the house. Wanna make me happy? I know all of you, all the world over, do. So leave me now. I got my dick stuck in a jar of pigs feet.

Don't ask.

Joey

Dyspepsia

2010-11-06T10:18:00.000-07:00

I've had a little heartburn this week, which has kept me from my appointed rounds. Not really dyspepsia, which is stomach upset, so much as a burning in the upper digestive tract, and rolling a little towards the back. A coke clears it up. But sometimes, like when I'm in the car on the interstate going 80, I ain't near a Coke. Or a Pepsi. But they do clean me out.

When I say clean me out, I don't mean in the way that an enema would, but just that the carbonation offstinks the indigestion and I continue to live. I'll be 54 next month. My brain is 100, and my face and body are 35. So I averaged that out to a clean 54. I was listening to NPR yesterday, and there was a show about fancy enemas. Vanilla Phosphate, choco-cream cookie, bubble-gum, cheese and crackers, coffee, with cream, sugar and pis, and my favorite, the old fashioned cake enema. It is really great, they say, especially when it is festooned with a bride and groom on the top. I can see where that would make it a little tough going in, but I suppose if you leave them in there long enough, they would melt. Plus they come in all kinds of candied flavors. Its better than the thistle-thorn enema, which has been known to tear the anus to pieces.

But this is all conjecture. I haven't had one yet, and I suppose I should. I wouldn't want a homosexual doctor (I want my physicians to work at what they're doing, not play inside me). But my regular M.D. looks straight to me, so I would say DIG IN, MAN!

It could be embarrassing too. What if they found some weird stuff up there? Stuff that I never knew about, but maybe floated upstream when I was a kid. I would be mortified to find a toy boat, or a pair of ladies stockings. Gee, what if the doctor found a fetus? It would blow my mind. Blow it up, dude.

I wish I knew how much time they spent in my dark continent looking for shit (I know they'll find plenty of shit shit...I mean shit as in uncool shit). And when the thick steel rod is up my tushy-meat, and I woke up, all of a sudden, and squealed, would I be gay? There's got to be a better way.

Have a great weekend, ladles. There is a concert at my toilet tonight.

Joe

A New Beginning. Let Us Come Together.

2010-11-03T12:45:00.000-07:00

The title says it all. I cribbed the last part from a Nixon campaign poster. We did quite well last night. Not the complete blowout I was hoping for. Harry Reid got reelected, and the Democrats keep the Senate. But we did get 60 more "R's" in the house for a nice majority. The buildup was so big, I was thinking way more. Like a thousand extra house seats, and maybe ten thousand Senate pickups, but it was not to be.

As our collectivist enemies like to say about their stuff, let me say; this is a good first step. I found it neat that 53% percent of those who voted (polled of course) had a negative attitude towards the Republican Party. AND, 53% of those polled had negative feelings towards the Democratic party. Sounds like like hot nuts for a real nice, strong third party if the GOP can't get down to business and obey the dictates of the Tea Party.

The GOP is rich now, and connected in cool ways. We have, basically, traditional conservative pinstripes, libertarian leaning philosophers, and Tea Partiers, who stride, com se com sa', the middle of the two. Forget about any Republican stragglers, who still think Jacob Javits was a comer. The party is now conservative-libertarian (oh, what about my precious Libertarian Party...where shall they go? What shall they do?) and can be poised, if it has the balls, to revolutionize government.

Do they got the balls, Manny? Nixon had balls. But he was a criminal. The next two years will tell the story. The Tea Party, I predict, will remain as active as they have been these last two years, pushing hard, standing in the GOP doorway to keep the scaredicats who promised us that they would take off the shakles and RADICALLY reform the mess they have created from escaping. We have to clean up this mess. We made it.

By the way, did you know that Virginia state law requires that all pay toilets have to close on election day? I was smelling fried chicken all day. Some lady before me at the voting stalls shit in her pants, and smeared it on the ballot. I guess she thought they would take her more seriously that way.

Remember. We are now in the "good first step" phase to reverse the tragic course of government over the last 80 or more years.

Let's move!

Joe Postove

Vote

2010-11-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

I just voted. The polling stall is just down the block from the library, so I decided to vote first then do my Eric Sevareid bit afterwards.

There wasn't much of a crowd. It took about 10 minutes for me to get my ballot. And get this, my peeps, I did something today, that I haven't done in many many years. No, not that, I do that every day. The other thing. I voted straight Republican EVEN though there was a Libertarian on the ballot. WE call it Libertarianism And Things for a reason, and I probably broke a few hearts today. But here's why.

I've been convinced that the Tea Party, being a VERY VERY good influence on the old, me too, tired Republicanism, can turn this party around, give it a good push towards real liberty, and many libertarians will gather round, and perhaps coalition with a Tea Party dominated GOP. We must now pray.

Also, this is the last chance for the Republican Party. I will, and many of the important people in my coterie will forever and always leave the Republicans if they can't get it straight this time. This is the most important mid-term, perhaps the most important election, all said, in more than 30 years. The United States Of America will die a slow, meandering death, if the Party of Lincoln disappoints us again.

Anyone there? This is the last chance. Of course we can't do everything at once (believe me...I tried it once and I got my pushky all tied up with my kiddish). But with Tea Party-Libertarians with a significant presence in the party, we can immediately start to turn this once great nation back to the ethics of our founding fathers, and return us to the free nation we were meant to always be.

If you haven't voted yet, please go and do so now. But if you ain't going to vote properly, I hear there are scads of good TV shows on tonight. Stay home and grab some tube.

And so, tomorrow we'll know. May God have mercy on the freedom lovers, and have at it with the socialists.

FREEDOM WORKS. CAPITALISM IS THE ONLY MORAL "ISM".

Joe Postove

Election Time Is Coming!

2010-10-26T13:40:00.000-07:00

A Week from today, many of us will go to the polls and take a dump. Please don't do that. I've got plenty of pay stalls at my toilet emporium in downtown Norfolk to serve everyone. I realize that those of us who feel compelled to make plop plops in the voting stall are making a political statement. But there is no need for that. Vote responsibly.

And voting responsibly means voting as close to Libertarian as you can. "Libertarian And Things", right? The Tea Party people are on the absolutely right track. But their method is to put the Republicans back in power, most of whom will be the conventional "me too" type. But this time, I pray thee, oh Lord, that the Republican Party sees that the Tea Party and conservatives and libertarians who make up this wave to wash away the scum is serious this time, now more than ever.

One more chance for the GOP. One more goddamndiddly chance, or they're out, and if the Libertarian Party cannot pick up the slack, than we'll form a third party that will make Ross Perot's couple of runs look like a tea party. But one where little girls sit around and talk about boys. If the Republicans win the House, and if providence provides, also wins the Senate, and goes back to playing footsie with the Barney Franks of the world (I don't even allow that in my own toilets) then there will be, mind you, folks, must be, a real revolution to reform the government of The United States into the constitutional institution it was meant to be.

Damn. Oh damn. I worry so about my beautiful nation becoming a third world and third rate nation, and watch countries like China beat the capitalist shit out of us. And then when capitalism, real live exciting free markets, like the ones that made our bones right here, make China a free, democratic, and most powerful country in the world, whatta we gonna do down here on the farm?

Wave bye bye, baby. Vote responsibly on election day. Make love to our country.

Joe Postove

Mr. C. And Mrs. Cleaver

2010-10-20T13:12:00.000-07:00

The election is a'comin', but June Cleaver (Barbara Billingsley) and Mr. Cunningham (Tom Bosley) have died, and I want to pay tribute to them. The Beave's Mom and the head of the Cunningham clan, are right now, more important to me.

Though the beginning of "Happy Days" came just a little over ten years after the demise of "Leave It To Beaver" ("Beaver" died in September 1963..."Days" premiered in January 1974) they merged into my childhood-teenage boyhood, made the world a bit lighter, and interestingly enough, though they portrayed people of the same era (50's early 60's), the shows were opposites of each other.

I think I liked Mrs. Cleaver a little better, and the whole Beaver clan, because the show was from the 50's, but not of the 50's. Every week it televised the 50's as the 50's wanted to be seen, certainly not like it was. There were no hermaphrodites, pay toilets, don't ask blah blah, and real life, such as David Halberstam wrote in his epic book on the decade back in the 90's. "Leave It to Beaver" was what we wanted the 50's to be. And it was. For a half hour we could dream of the decade we desperately missed, or never experienced, and forget about the bomb, and Joe McCarthy, and civil rights, and the whole goddamn decade, as it really was. We could luxuriate in a pretend world of malt shops, football practice, double dates, and lovey dovey romance. The worst thing that ever happened on Beaver was when Eddie Haskell moved out to his own apartment. Maybe that wasn't so bad though. He moved back home in record time. In and out before the 30 minutes were up. And that was clocked. That was the 50's we wanted to return to, even if it never existed.

Happy Days was more complicated. It certainly did not have homosexuals, or poop pans, drug fiends, or shooting up the school on a Friday afternoon, like nowadays. But it was a more realistic portrayal of the decade, in that it, in it's own 70's sitcom fashion, confronted black people, sex(!), and poverty, among other things that really happened in the 50's. Mostly, however, Happy Days was malt shops, cars, high school, but with a little more honesty than the Beaver.

Is that what we wanted? No, but both shows satisfied a need, and Mrs. Cleaver, and Mr. C in their own way were a Mom and Dad that we respected, liked, and wanted our own to be more like.

I'd take the fake 50's over the real one. But we have to live with both.

RIP Baraba Billingsley and Tom Bosley.

Joe

Family Time

2010-10-12T12:34:00.000-07:00

I have kin coming in this weekend, so you're going to have to find another pay toilet to pee and shit in. I know, I know, you have become used to my high quality stalls, and the alternatives (river, behind car doors, 7/11 cups, low quality pay toilets, like the ones made out of cigar boxes, and other assorted peepee and plop plop stations). I do sympathize with you and urine.

But I haven't seen my cousin in a couple of years, and if I had to man the toilets over the weekend, I wouldn't get to spend good times with family. And as you all know, I am a family man first. Except for those who are waiting for me to die and run off with my pay toilet empire. Girls, I have the biggest operation of dime pis, and fifteen cent plop stations in the southeastern quadrant of Virginia. And I can't give that up by letting some others watch them. Remember that old Haitian lady who collected the money before I perfected the change machine? Well, yeah, she ran off with over 100 million dollars. I made off of your human waste. What? You say that's no big shit? I say it's more like projectile sphincter vomiting. I try not to put too fine a point on these things, and be too gross out of respect for your family and the Godfather and his family and all of the crews who have been made by the mob, and those unfortunates who have not.

I'm not saying that my pay stalls, open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week have any mob connections. But you do have to be aware that they are out there, and they want their piece of the pie (fully digested, in my case).

So for those of youse (or you, depending on your good or bad English) who need to use the bathroom this weekend, please try and hold as much as you can inside. I realize there will be some leakage. But that's part of the business that we have chosen, I hope you realize this. There is always going to be a little leakage, whether or not I keep the stalls open or closed.

I am, again, very sorry for any inconvenience to anyone because of my family obligations. On Monday, if there is anyone who has crapped in his pants, or peed in bed or elsewhere, I promise a half price ride on the roller-toilet.

Joey

10/9/40

2010-10-09T09:09:00.000-07:00

Let's speak today of pretty things. Of good, and peace, and love. It is John Lennon's 70th birthday after all. John could have spent a life in Key West with Yoko and Sean, and walked out to the mailbox every afternoon and picked up his royalty checks. I would have.

John risked everything, all the time, for an end to war (WAR IS OVER...IF YOU WANT IT) and a start to peace. He was willing to play the fool to some, if it meant gathering steam for a world based on a Lennon model rather than what all the rest of us expected, to throw up our hands, and just give into...war. He would do anything to focus our minds on peace. Too many of us grooved just on the music. Unless we listened to Professor Lennon talk.

Meeting the world from bed, taking up with that woman, fighting the United States government to stay in the country and winning was what John wanted to do in the 70's. And, boy, did we need a John Lennon. Music? Ok, the contract calls for this and that and "here it is...sorry its not the best it could be, but I was in bed for peace"!

The Beatles, of course changed everything, sometimes for the better (mostly) sometimes for the lesser (everything prior to 1964 suddenly disappeared). The four of them, as a group, were together less than eight years. And then they scattered to the edges of music and the world, never to be whole again.

John came out ok. It wasn't as good, but it was John Lennon. He put out a few great albums, a few stinkers, and lost his way, some, while away from Yoko. But his voice, not the yeah yeah yeah, but the "Give Peace A Chance" voice put him in the cross hairs of the Nixon Administration to"get this beatnik out of the country". But John kept a 'comin'. It was for peace, not the victory of the Viet-Cong, or Mao's Cultural Revolution (if you go carrin' pictures...) or war mongers on the left. John fought off the critics on the left and right and did whatever was required for an end to war. He was quite good at that. But war is stronger than one man. If only that one man, followed by us, his folks, could bring us closer to peace, then and only then is peace stronger than war. Peace CAN trump war. WAR IS OVER IF YOU WANT IT! Then John would go along, some, to get along. By 1980, he had fully grown up, and dismissed his flirtation with the left only as a means to whack war to peace.

He couldn't have done it all without the music. That gave him standing. But he didn't have to do it. He could have lost it all, and been as poor as Frank Zappa. Peace and Yoko were what he lived for. And today, October Ninth, 2010 I want to wish John Lennon A Happy Birthday. You will be alive in my heart as long as my heart continues to rock to the beat of the music and the beat of the peace.

I love you.

Joe

Eats

2010-10-06T13:24:00.000-07:00

Congress failed to pass the Child Nutrition Bill last week, and once again we have saved our kids from the tyranny of the federal lunch lady. Learning to eat (which was not at all hard for me) is something Mom teaches you when you're a baby, and should monitor at least until you're six or seven, when you start trading your peanut butter sandwiches for Hostess' Ho's and Clark Bars. Can't we keep the federal government out of this most important aspects of growing up, filling your belly with goodies and getting fat. We all go through it, and the government should keep its hands off our jelly-bellies.

I was on a diet starting at the age of six until I could diet no more, sweety. Look at photos of me before I turned 6 and I was some gorgeous babe. Then at six, like right there when the buzzer went off in the kitchen (I had asked Mom to set the thing so I would know the exact time I turned half a dozen) I went into a diabetic slumber. Little did I know then, that I was born at 3:30 in the morning, the time I slid out of my Mom's birth canal and into the arms of the doctor, who beat the shit out of me. At least it felt like it at the time.

But at six years old, my Dad decided I should have my head almost completely shaved (maybe to ward off those Beatles) I started to gain weight, and Dr. Jerome put me on diet pills (I ate them with Jello..J-e-l-l-o) which made me insane. I was shaking my head like a dervish because the pills were too much for my fat little, sweet, boy body. And not long after that, I think when I was eight(!) I got braces, which I hung onto for five years. I was a mess. See how you get to be a mess at 53? Be a mess a six. It works out pretty nice.

But what about kids eating junk food at school. I'll make the NEA a deal, get the junk education out of the schools, and then maybe we can pull some of the chocolate cherries out of the vending machines.

Oh, boy! When I was in school, the vending machines were full of what every boy and girl should have to have a roundy body and every now and then diabetic comas. We had the cherries, peanut butter candy (what is that..it pulls your fillings out, Yoo-Hoo, M&M's, Chunkies, and candy and mess so good and sweet and godly that going to school wasn't so bad). Lots of us kids didn't eat a full breakfast of Count Chockula, and Tab, so that we could gorge on vending munching munch. And then after school, we would go to 7/11 and, well man, I'll tell you this, I thought, at the age of 10, I was getting high on the grease and good grub only a 7/11 has.

I miss those days. How about some Mary-Jane's. I'll send you some teeth.
Now, government, listen up. I want you out of the bedroom, lunchroom, tearoom, bathroom, carport, little plastic pools, my gallows, and anything else that impinges on the rights of me or my children (if God should ever figure a way to get me pregnant...and NOT LIKE THAT!

Joe

Toe Jam

2010-10-05T13:56:00.000-07:00

I got my toe stuck in the damn jam jar again last night. I have no one to blame other than myself. I just can't help it. Whenever I get near the jar (which I keep on the floor near the refrigerator) I get so sexy, and suburban-like, that something comes over me, and before I know it, my little toe (the baby toe for you who aren't part of the in crowd) is swimming, luxuriously and proudly in the jar of jam.

I hang my head in shame. I know my relationship with jam (and the jar..I like the jars too) is not the best thing for my mental health. I try to wear my slippers until I'm neatly under the covers and on my way to Sleepytime Village, but I have a routine that invariably leads me to the kitchen and the damn jam jar. My Mother, who passed away almost six years ago tried to cure me of this by fluffing up my pillow ever so nicely before I went to sleep, and put extra 'Redi-Whip' on my Jello hoping this might get me out of the habit and help me lead a moral, Godly life, dedicated to sweets, tv, fried chicken, and fatty potato salad, and no, no, no, to any ideas of sticking my toe in a jam jar for delights. But it didn't work. After Mom tucked me in, I would sneak down to the kitchen (after saying goodnight to the folks at Sleepytime Village, telling them I would be back soon, to ride the white tiger to sleep) and get the jam out of the fridge, and just mess up my whole life slipping my baby toe in and out, in and out, in and out, of the glorious jar of jam that only a precious Lord could understand.

I really don't know what to do. I've tried melted butter in a glass, chicken fat pooped by a real chicken at one of my pay toilets, and many other remedies. None work. Oh, maybe what I do ain't so bad. I mean, I'm not hurting anyone (except me) and it's not like war or eating beets, or trying to flush a meatloaf down a pay toilet for a dime.

Maybe it's just me. And maybe I'm just alright.

Mmmmmmmmmmm. I feel like some jam!

Joey

Happy Birthday Mr. Twister!

2010-10-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

Folks, I had written a nice long, bulbous, pretty, sweet paean, to my favorite Rock and Roller, Chubby Checker. But the God of taking away drafts to heaven, swiped my post, and I got nothin' here, girls. Ladies, I tried.

Let me say, however, that tomorrow is Chubby's 69th birthday. He was Rock and roll's first feminist. After the Twist, girls didn't need boys to lead them anymore.

Happy birthday you great man. And may youhave many more!

Joe

Extra Pies At All Pay Toilets

2010-09-28T12:57:00.000-07:00

I woke up early this morning wondering about the traffic. I don't normally think that much about who's driving what where, when, since my commute is about five miles straight down Virginia Beach Blvd, until I get to my work at the death house. In case you did not know, I work where all of the zombies who are bosses above me seem to have the look of the dead in their eyes. Maybe they just have a poor bowel movement every morning. Morning plop plops can cause one to be really sick, unless you know what you're doing. Do you really know what the hell you're doing.

As I laid in bed, I thought that there were no cars on the interstate, but that there were thousands of stolen shopping carts. Stolen from K-Mart, Lowes, Wal-Mart, and lots of others so we can pick our items every morning to deliver to the degenerates who buy from us. Gee...if the cops ever bust a move, wide open into our warehouse, I think we're all going to the hoose-gow. I can see now, outside my cell window, the one with the little bars that look like Liberace's candles, the gallows being prepared for me, not only for stealing and using stolen shopping carts, but for all of my previous and various crimes. Well, gals, all good things gotta come to an end. Or is that beginning?

I got a letter from my Orthodox Jewish sister in Israel last week. I tried to convince her to come home to America, the land of really really cheap Pay toilets (they charge a dollar in Israel...that's the result of State Universal Coverage for Plops and pee). But she is committed to the State Of the Jews, even if it means meeting the President of Iran (his name is not spelled out because I forgot how) in a cage match at the Jerusalem Arena, which is on forth street, near this really bitchin' shul, where they let you praise Jesus, eat, pee in your pants, sit in the back if you're lonely and , well...you do the math, sell Poopsicles, make unleavened bread, and none of the ladies wear bras. My sis really does not approve of this synagogue, but the Israeli government told her if she wants to wrestle that guy from Iran, she'll have to wrestle the women champ of Jerusalem, Bertha Bloomstein.

Bertha is 57, and on the down end of her career, so Angie might have a chance to get her to submit, and then push her head into one of the state toilets. All good stuff.

I'm still worried that one day I'll wake up and the only thing on the road will be little bugs. I'll squash them.

Joe

Here Comes The Election!

2010-09-25T09:17:00.000-07:00

The rats now running the White House (not the sleazy kind, but..well yeah, the sleazy kind) are thinking of converting to Quakerism because they hear the mighty mighty voice of God Almighty quaking and beseeching them ( I love to beseech...especially after a good meal, and flap jacks on the toilet) to leave us alone and return this country to the people who maintain it (for real) from the bureaucrats who have stolen it for their own Stalinist aims.

I wonder if even the Democrats who elected this guy think he was ready? Even for the dumb-ass socialism that Mr Obama and his crew have thrown against the wall to see how much will stick. Lots of it seems to be sticking, but, gee whiz, they have ruined a perfectly good wall. Twenty years ago, when the Berlin Wall came down, I really thought that Communism had lost and Capitalism had won. Well, the reds lost, but our people, the ones who couldn't run a pay toilet, but think they can move mountains of capital for the benifit of all have come as close as one of Mama's baked apples to ruining capitalism for the United States. God! And just last week, Castro (on his fifth or sixth death bed) said that the "Cuban Model" hasn't even worked for Cuba.

Meanwhile, back at Camp Barack, our government does everything it can to take a perfectly good economic system and pis it away in the sink, of all places. When we first opened our Pay Toilets in Downtown Norfolk, I didn't have the automation system up yet. So I had an old Hatian woman collect the nickles and dimes until we were totally up and ready to go. I would trust HER more with the government of the United States than I do him.

Now is our chance. Sure, we gave the Republicans the whole thing to play with in 1994. They had a contract, and PROMISED to lessen the amount of government in our lives. In every way possible. By all and any means possible (I don't think they would have firebombed the Capitol, however...why burn down your own neighborhood?)

Now they want another chance. But there's a catch. The Tea Partiers, or neo-libertarians, if you will, are holding their feet to the fire. A mighty awesome fire, that only God could put asunder (sometimes I get into my black preacher mood). The Tea Party, for the most part, thanks, is after one thing. Stop the growth of this behemoth, and then read the constitution to those remaining politicians who don't get it. And then move to reduce the size of the state.

Can this happen? I don't know. Once folks gets their goodies from the government (health care) even when they know the moral decadence and smell of what it is, they are often loath to give them up. I lived in Santa Monica, California, years ago when they established rent control. I went to rallies and meetings to try and avoid this blot on freedom. But we lost, and the "People's Republic Of Santa Monica" put a gun in the face of landlords, and said "this is how much we'll pay, and shudup yo face" Or words to that effect. And as much as I was opposed to this confiscation of property rights, poor little me breathed a sigh of relief. I could not afford where I was living then. Now maybe I could.

What a sad sick day it was for me. But, look, you little feller's here, once the president goes on a shopping spree and drops off whatever we need, truth be told, we ain't gonna give it back.

Stop them now. While we still have a chance to be proud of our nation.

Joe Postove

Day Of Atonement

2010-09-18T10:34:00.000-07:00

Today for all of my Jewish brethren, it is Yom Kipper, or the day of sweating to the oldies. WE all go to shul, sit and stand, and then sit, but stand more than sit. And we pray God to allow us another year on Earth before he slams us like that Roadrunner did that coyote. That was one of the first cartoon parables. The Roadrunner was God, and Wylie Coyote was just another slob trying to get to heaven before the anvil got to him.

I'm not in shul today. I won't lie and say that my Orthodox synagogue installed personal computers alongside the tallis, and siddurs....know what I mean, goyim honey? I'm at the library with all of the non-Jews practicing web-surfing and trying to remember the dirty pictures. If you don't have a good memory, what good are they, huh?

Besides, and God forgive me, but there are time when I think this "Day Of Atonement" should at least apply to our heavenly father as much as it does to us. It was not we who brought forth unto us little'uns here Hurricane Katrina to New Orleans, or a tsunami to all those hapless folks in helpless land. Jesus (not for use on Yom Kipper) what do think God is thinking when he SEES you living on a speck in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. You're asking for some mighty smiting, no?

One day, and that day may never come, we may see the Lord walk into a synagogue on Yom Kipper and apologize. Not for everything, but for not allowing the powerful peeps of this wonderful world run it as we see fit, and only sticking his nose in to foment wars, pestilence, disease, and all of his others goods. Yes, I do realize that God created us, and the world. But he took a hike. But not far enough to let us run our affairs as we see fit. He was always around so that we could always count on some evil dude stuff. I love the Lord. He created me and everyone I love. And my planet. That's plenty.

We'll take it from here.

Joey

To The Showers

2010-09-14T13:02:00.000-07:00

The most difficult among the first things required of eighth graders in high school is gym class. Because, after gym, we all take showers together, naked, with everything that had up till now been seen only by God'Me, and is on display for all the horrid boys to look at.

We were all about 13 around this time. And to most 13 year old boys has come the devil of puberty (as I saw her then) and we were on our way to manhood (no manhood jokes, please). I started to "grow" when I was about eleven, and it scared the shit out me. I had been content for all of my life up until then to look like a girl, with a worm. This was normal, the way God intended, I suppose, for me to live out my life, hairless and small was my comfort zone. No one, not Dad (though I should have guessed something was up since I had seen him naked, and he was fully equipped) told me what was coming, and certainly not Mom. When old Gus the puberty angel stuck his wand up my ass, I was not less than flabbergasted.

I cried about it too. It was the end of a good, long eleven year run of boyhood. And now here were hairs growing everywhere (mostly around my dick, for God's sake!) and I noticed my penis getting bigger. This, I was unsure about. It looked nicer. But how long was it was going to grow? And when would it stop?! I was, as you can see, in a panic. I had no one to talk to about it. I suffered greatly.

So, when high school came around and naked showers with other boys were the order of the day, I just about fainted. One kid, Doug, took the first shower in his underpants. But as stupid and ugly as my man-boy set looked, showering in your underwear just was too stupid. Even for me, a truly stupid and confused person.

Gym ended that first day. The boys piled into the locker room and without even looking around to see who might be looking, they started peeling off their clothes with abandon. This perplexed me. They were mostly Christian, but I wondered also, had they seen naked people before? Maybe even a naked girl? I'd seen pictures of course. But these animals were heading towards the showers like they were wearing Sunday go to meeting clothes. Me, my dick, my hair pulled a towel around my waist. What what! What what! I could have run howling and screaming home to Mom. But what would I tell her? That I was the only boy (including underpants boy) not to shower after gym? Mothers don't understand that.

Let me pull back two years for a moment. When I started the process to manhood, Mom caught me crying in my bedroom all about it. She asked what was wrong. I told her and even let her have a very small peek at my problem that was crucifying me. She said that all boys go through that and not to worry about it. That was the only conversation about this, and, well, I did feel a certain comfort in knowing that Mom knew I was dying of puberty. But it didn't help me with the other boys. No one could see my stuff, ever! And when I started to have sex (I knew all about that by then) all I would have to do was squeeze my cousin's bosoms, and then I would get that "good feeling". I looked forward to a full sex life of feeling girls up, pulling their panties off to see what was in them, merging with bosoms, and all of the other regular stuff. Most of all I really looked forward to bosoms, bosoms, bosom!

Back at school; I was now naked with a towel covering me, while all of the other boys ran to the showers. Gee, it was like they were getting a birthday party, or double allowence, not forever exposing their goodies for all the world to see.

Then I noticed the great variety. I came later to understand that at the age of 13 there is much difference between how far along young males have come. Some looked like they were seven years old. Nothing there. Nothing to worry about. Others, the same age, about, looked like my Dad, some even more advanced. Oh God, this worried me even more. I was just me. Not much, but some. But standing there in the damp lockeroom by myself was drawing pointing, and "hey Joe, what's the matter, you scared, you pussy". I didn't want to be naked in front of all of those stupid boys. My stuff belong to me and God, and was not to be put on public display, like a zoot suit, jangling along the sidewalk looking for a good time. Oh, God! What if my penis decided, on its own, with no input from me that it wanted to have a good time. I wasn't a fag. But I could get a boner like playing guitar.

I did the best I could. I draped the towel along my shoulders, down to my waist, covering, but yet not covering, got to a shower, took off the towel, and did my thing. I was mortified. But thankfully, no one else seemed to be paying attention to my horror.

I seemed to be starting a pattern.

Joey Postove

Nine Years Ago

2010-09-11T07:38:00.000-07:00

It seems like yesterday. And truly it seems like one hundred years ago. The world and everyone in it has changed. Some for good. Not all.

I woke up that morning at about nine. I turned on the "Today Show" and already they were talking about the first plane that had crashed into one of the towers. "Jesus Christ" was my first thought, not terrorism. It was eerie, but not terribly disconcerting. Then, almost in slow motion, I saw another plane. Dumb me thought it might be a New York Fire Department plane to shower down some of the flames. They couldn't have done that anyway.

Then it crashed into the second tower. And everyone knew. And everyone wanted to join up and nuke the guys behind this outrage. I was instant messaging with my friend in Brooklyn who was at work. She went outside and could see the flames and smoke from there. Maddie was very scared. And angry.

Who was it? Why? And what do we do now. How?

Maybe it wasn't such a long time ago.

Joe

40 Years Ago

2010-09-04T07:45:00.000-07:00

There was no junior high school near my house in 1970, so when we finished the seventh grade we went right on to the high school, about a mile away, as eighth graders. It was like going from the county jail to the federal penitentiary. And, boy, was I scared.

More scared then the idea that I am much closer now to my first face lift, drinking myself to death or crying my eyes out because I am so old than I am to those days. Forty years ago this week, I was 13. And I thought I had the rest of my life to live. Which is true no matter how you look at it. I could have been hit by a school bus at the age of 14, and that would have been the rest of my life. I've always been good with numbers.

Eighth graders were below vermin in a high school. We came into this important piece of knowledge on our very first day. In mine, Princess Anne High in Virginia Beach, we were not even freshmen. Our little unmolded brains and bodies were "pre-freshmen. And we were at the mercy of all those who made life mostly miserable for us.

I, a pussy, was savaged. Spit on, stomped on, smashed against lockers, only the occasional teacher would come to our aid. Otherwise, it was spit, squashed, and smashed. It's not that we didn't try. I would run as fast as my fat little bar-mitzvahed legs would carry me, around corners, up and on the bus home, right behind the driver (drivers were tougher than teachers), run, run, run, away from the bullies and try to eat our lunch without having it crammed down our throats. Friends, I thought I had five years of this to look forward to. But not to be.

My eighth grade English teacher, Mrs. Huling, a lovable, chubby gal, who also sponsored our class (of 1975...Jesus, was I going to have to join the service NOW to get out of here?) saved me, at least part of the day from the ravages of the Klein brothers, David Stewert, and others who I believed had made it their life's work to make mine horrible. But I said I was a pussy.

I was also an eighth grader who did not realize that the eighth grade does not last forever. Going home in those bleak days of the fall of 1970 with spittle, smash and squash marks, and no hope of ever making it over the wall were disconcerting. I couldn't tell my Mom. She would have called the principal. And then I would have been killed. I just put up with it, until, amazingly, it faded into ninth grade, when we were now freshmen. And we were to be reckoned with by those puny, sick, and pussy laden eighth graders. We were now men! And though I was still a wus, I was a ninth grader too.

I was somebody.

Joe Postove

Hurricane Earl

2010-09-02T12:14:00.000-07:00

Hurricane Earl is baring down on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and may give we here in the south eastern quadrant of Virginia a twirl for our money.

But that's not why I'm writing. I found mustard stains in THREE of my pay toilets downtown this morning. When I changed the rule about snacking while plop ploping, I expected those who did eat while shitting to take it easy and be neat and clean.

I don't want to come down hard on you ladies and gents who patronize my business. I'm so grateful, I'm on my knees here, and begging for more business whenever you need to go a one and a two. But we gotta keep it clean, men! I have never discriminated against all of the different types of people (trans, regular, gay, Jewish, crippled, and so on) and therefor have always expected you guys to keep it clean in the toilets while eating a hot dog, hamburger, malted milk, easy bake oven goods, and other assorted goodies from our chuck-wagon.

But for God's sake! I came to open up this morning, and found not only the mustard stains, but boogers, spilled milk, banana pudding (gee...I think that was banana pudding) and left over wieners and hamburgers all over the place. One of my workers even slipped on a piece of I don't know what it was, and hurt her back. While riding with her in the ambulance to the hospital, I promised, that if she should die, I would take care of her seven kids. I would, but I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to raise them. And, look folks, is a pay toilet the right kind of atmosphere for children? Even though we do have two pay stalls for the kiddies on Saturday mornings. It's built like a merry-go-round and the kids can slide off whenever they're done. But we don't like them hanging around. Especially near the hermaphrodite stalls. They wouldn't understand, and if you guys keep messing up the stalls and I gotta keep cleaning them, I won't have time to explain all this crap to them. So, please, have mercy on my soul and body, and I hope to wake up tomorrow morning.

I forgot. If Earl sweeps into Norfolk, and knocks down our pee pens, I have gotten permission from the Chief Of Police for you to pee and shit in the river.

Have a nice weekend.

Joey

WikiLeaks

2010-08-25T13:17:00.000-07:00

WikiLeaks has done it again, releasing "classified" documents on the web. Firstly, how "classified" can they be when some website gets a hold of them and gushes forth with the cream? The United States government is mad (they seem to always have a burr under their ass) that Wiki has continued to attain these oh so dear documents from who, I don't know. Who's on first? I don't know is on second. Who's in charge?

Whoever is releasing these documents is obviously a government insider who thinks that that there are TOO MANY SECRETS and letting these papers loose (even at the risk of some lives) is a very good way to make it more difficult for the USA to engage operatives in foreign countries to help us in endless adventures around the world. This is the endless war plan of Dick Cheney's and company in an attempt to keep the military industrial complex running with hot grease. After all, GE's gotta eat too, huh? They eat, and have our young eaten by the endless wars.

What happened to my god-damned peace dividend? By easily hiring home grown informants, the US has ramped up our ability to hop scotch around the world, from country to country, to make the world safe for democracy. Yeah. How about making the USA safe for a little freedom, once in a while.

Iran is next. The big boys, who play on both Bush's and Obama's teams, without regard to the color of the ball, want to put some boots on the neck of Iran before they get a bomb. They care about Israel (some are from the Jewish Lobby...take it from this Jew, there is a big Jewish Lobby in this country) and others feel a brotherly or paternal love for the Jewish state.

Here we are again. New boss, same as...you know. Are we going to war with Iran to protect Israel? Wanna see Jerusalem blow up real good? Give that a try. All we need to do is what we do with the crazy guy in North Korea. Make it well known that if Iran successfully uses nukes against our lovers in Israel, we'll paste 'em. I don't like the idea of being Israel's mommy. But we took her on, so we have to babysit until we can get her to grow up a little.

If there is Nuclear Iran, then we just contain her. In a little box, maybe a red one like the one we bought for North Korea. And let her know that she shan't blow up no Jews, ya' hear? If she does...KABOOM...all over Persia. We'll miss you. But The Iranians are thick with influence from the west, and are in many respects more of a westerly than a middle easterly state. She knows which side her nubbin's are buttered on.

Which, briefly brings me back to WikiLeaks. If we are unable to successfully attain allies in Iran, with the government liberals (!) and the reformists afraid of their names hoisted onto a website, where the chance they will be killed is good and plenty, then the US will...must refrain from sticking our nose under the Persian tent, or anyone else's for that matter.

We get to stay home. And let the rest of the world sort out their problems for once.

I'll bet they can. Give them a chance. Without the expectation of Uncle Sam leaping tall buildings in a single bound to save them and the rest of the world, the rest of the world is on their own.

And we get to nap some. And rid ourselves of our own Un-American politicos with a good dousing of tea.

Joe Postove

Dr. Laura Schlessinger's "word"

2010-08-21T09:17:00.000-07:00

I don't listen to the good doctor unless there is absolutely nothing else decent on the radio (so I do listen to her from time to time, huh?) so I didn't hear her so called rant where she said the "N" word 11 times. I know what the "N" word is, so no kidding, let's sort out this extreme political correctness gone over the hill.

She said nigger. Now I must retire from my blog, right? Not a chance, France, I've got too much good work to do for the peoples of the world. Nigger. What an awful word. But is it worse than kike, queer, yid, and the panoply of bad yet useful words that have been barred by the discrimination of the political tenders.

She called no one a nigger. She did not refer to anyone as such. I believe she was making a point (much as I am trying here). Are we to have guardians of the language mandate that unless certain people speak and do not speak in certain ways, they are to be cast upon the ash heap of radio. Nigger is a staple of rap. I do not believe there a rap song without the word (unless you count "Christian Rap") which is unknown to me.

Moral rectitude (gee...that sounds a little to close to a bad word for me, but it's all I've got) should help us not to use these words, especially crossly. But here's a few, when you're feeling especially angry (use sotto voce to protect yourself from the bloods and crips, however).

Ass-Pirate
Ass-Goblin
Ass-Nigger (saw it, couldn't resist)
Ass-Wipe
Bitch-Ass
Boner
Chink
Coon
Cunt

Well, you get the idea. I went to website to find bad words, and they were so overwhelming with them, I had to plotz. To paraphrase T. Jefferson, a word never picked my pocket, or broke my leg. Words, as repulsive as some may be, serve a good purpose. It helps to reminds us where we have come from in our relations, man to man (see the fag words) and understand better the reasons we must not disengage from the English language, but rather use it in all of its glory, may your Mom's bar of soap be damned.

Please, don't be intimidated by the word police. Our words belong to no one. They are the property, temporarily, of those who know how to use them. Then they become a part of the commonwealth, or better said, the commonwords.

Don't allow the PC crowd to crush your literary liberty. For once we lose the words we need to communicate, we lose the ability to do just that.

Joe Postove

I'm Gaining Some Weight

2010-08-19T13:33:00.000-07:00

Well, the junk food seems to be catching up with me (not that I was trying hard to out run it). I eats a do-nut and diet coke for breakfast, a greasy hamburger (usually two) for luncheon, then an ice cream cone for a mid-day sugar lift to get me to 5 o'clock, when I eat either a chicken or hot dog, or if I'm feeling extra large, I'll get a Slurpie from Pops at 7/11.

I was pretty thin not so long ago, but with all my tiredness and menmanopause, and whatever the hell else I'm going through (besides the cancer) I just don't pay enough attention to what I eat. I look at it, and thrust it down my throat like the food whore that I am.

I used to get to the YMCA everyday. But I quit about 3 1/2 years ago. No money. No exercise. I have been running outside, but to avoid the sun, I have to wait till dusk, and by that time, I'm in Sleepytime Heaven.

Tits and ass seem to be my biggest problems. And I'm a man, for God's sake! I saw my things last night before bed, so I know I'm a man. Besides, thankfully, I've got small ariolas (nipples), and a manly if large rear end. I need to do something, and I used to be so good about working out. I was running 5 miles a day, swimming a mile, and lifting weights. I was a swan! I would skip all the way to the "Y" so the girls could see me in action. And show those guys who's in charge here.

Who's in charge here anyway? Is this the end of Joey? It can't be. I can lose the weight. I just need to substitute food with something else. How about sex? Say, do you know any girls who would have sex with a chubby man until he gets thin? Then I would kick her to the curb. When she got to the curb, though, I would probably order a couple of burgers, fries, and a shake from the car.

I can't win.

Joey

ALGORE

2010-08-17T13:28:00.000-07:00

If the former Vice-President will cut down on the heat here in Norfolk, then maybe I'll come around on global warming, or at least give him a free pass to my new "Luxo" pay toilet.

It is so damn hot here. The temperature thing said 99, but they lie so much. I'll bet it was 110. My damn phone started to melt. Oh, gee, maybe the Soviet Union is bombing New York? I'd better get in the house. What about the toilets up there? What about Henry Fonda?

All I know it's August, I saw it on the that thing they hang up where I work that has all the days and months of the year on it. So I know its August. You'll get no argument from me about that. You sons of bitches. You think I can't tell what day it is? It's Tuesday, so there. And I know all of my numbers and most of my letters; except p, q, s, r, and 7.

After the cancer surgery, I am doing everything I can to keep my face from getting too much sun. I could keep my head in the toilet all day, but I have tv shows to watch, not to mention getting Yoo-Hoo's for all the girls at the whorehouse from the gas station across the street from my apartment.

But that does nothing to get this heat a'stoppin'. All I want to do is go poopin'. Dancing at the high school hop, dancing at the high school hop. But that doesn't seem to cool me off any either. Look, men, I need a woman. One that is all fresh and sweet smelling, and has no scent of shit from competitors who run sub-standard pay stalls. Have you ever been inside one of those disgraces to commercial toiletry? They don't care how they look. They just give you a token, and send you into a broken down facility that no self respecting southern woman would ever use.

Boy do I need a woman. And, say, Al Gore, give us a break on the heat here, mama. If you do, I'll get you a woman too.

Time to rest.

Joe Postove

Hello World....Goodbye Cancer (The little c)

2010-08-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

The name of this "blog" is "Libertarianism And Things" (unless one of you hooligans have been messing with my things...the levers, the levers) but lately, of course, I've been writing mostly about my skin cancer and my line of pay toilets.

First the cancer. I saw the doctor yesterday for a followup, and everything seems to be coming along fine. The scar on the smileline where they aced some skin to graft onto my nose from whence the cancer came is going to to take longer to heal (if even not 100% percent...I'll be cool) than the cancer wound itself. But we caught it early, and little Joey looks like he's got another few years of blogging, toileting, skipping around town, jumping on the ropes at the gas station across the street from my apartment, and watching poon (I have to do it live since I ain't got any Internet at home, and the library has some rule about the naked body on these computers I paid for). Bastards! I'll pull their toilet privileges if they go too far. I mean that.

I feel pretty good, men. Old Mrs. Johnson who lives on my front steps and just celebrated her 109th birthday last week (we dedicated a toilet in her name) made change while I was convalescing at home. So I have to go out to the steps out front to get the big bottle of coins. I'll bring her a Poopsicle from the little store that runs next to the dollar store. It was built by the local insane insane asylum in 1961, and has no bumps. Folks did not think it was such a great idea to build a road for the insane next to the dollar store, since there is also a 99 cent store right there, but who am I to tell the insane how to live. After all, I gotta eat too.

So until I get back here, Good Shabbos, honey.

Joe Postove

Cutting and Pasting

2010-08-06T07:19:00.000-07:00

While waiting in the operating room at the doctors office last week for my skin cancer surgery on the nose, the doctor burst into the room (I could have been naked, for God's sake!) jumped up on the operating table (there were two, in case one had been used by the staff for loving earlier) and started into a chorus of "I'm In Love With You Dear", dancing along the edges of the table with that look in his eye, and then took me by the collar and said "ok, kid, let's get to your goodies".

I plotzed (no cream), not wanting to be a part of another circumcision scam (like that awful barbershop in '05), when Doctor Popeil laughed and said "hey, we always do that, it makes the clients more at ease. What I meant by your 'goodies' was not THAT, but rather, my boy, your skin cancer on the nose. Now just lay back, and enjoy".

I was relieved. I put my things back in my pants (even though I've been circumcised seven times, I figured I'd have another, and then we could squeeze off the skin cancer. I'm no fool. Once I stuffed my three things back into my pants, I took off my burka (the lady at my Islamic toilet told me I should wear it for good luck...it was hard to see through the slits, though) and laid back for a nice and easy nose cancer operation.

There are probably some of you who would like to know more details before the mini-series comes out. OK. Friends, it really went well. A week ago yesterday the cancer was removed from my nose and they only had to go in one time. Beforehand, I was told that it might take two or three diggins' to get it all. But Poppy (my new name for my new hero) got it all on the first try. No pain, but there was a feeling of uncomfortableness, but the only real pain was the injecting of the anestetic with the meat grinder.

After the cancer was out, he said it was time to do a little plastic surgery. So, again, I took out my goods, resigned to another circumcision (I just don't have any will power). But the doctor said, "no Joe, we're just going to harvest a little skin from your smileline, and patch up the nose with that". Right at that moment, the saleslady from International Harvester walked in and tryed to sell us a tractor. But Dr. Popeil said no, this was a small thing, and I said try my toilets downtown. My people always are looking for a good tractor ride after morning plop plops (that and an ice cold Coke).

And after we were all done (some of the above is untrue) I was bandaged quite literally over 2/3rd's of my face, instructed on how to care for the wounds, and then kicked down the stairs when I told them I forgot my wallet. To be right, I was very fortunate in finding this doctor. He works in a major practice, and when I first went there and said I had no insurance, he said he understood, and we could work out a payment plan.

I nearly kicked out my jams. And jellies too! This ain't a political blog today, Mommy, but it shows that given the chance, humans are decent caring beings, and DO NOT need the government to force them to be that, there. But you all know my views on ObamaCare.

It's a week and a day out now, all the bandages are off, and, well, I must say I looking stunning. And I mean that in a good way. When he took the bandages off yesterday, I could see that I had been in the hands of of a true medical talent. The little line that was made when he took skin from my smile line was thin (red, but that will go away) and looks like it will heal almost without barely a smidge of a scar. And the nose, now scrubbed of cancer, looks great. I will have to medicate these two wounds for probably weeks, and I will see Daddy next week for a check.

I'm a happy boy. I think I'll skip around the block.

Joe

For You

2010-07-28T04:19:00.000-07:00

For those of youse who regularly read my posts, you know about tomorrow (see below). Thanks ever so much for all the kindness and concern.

Since I don't have internet access at home (damn, I HAVE a toaster, but internet...maybe my washline could get me wifi...Huh?...Huh?)

So, I'll see you when I see you. I'm nervous about it. I am somewhere between not wanting to do it and wishing it were done already.

But wishes, as you know, are only dreams looking backwards.

See ya, pals.

Joe

No One Loves A Fat Man Except His Grocer And His Tailor

2010-07-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

The above was a test of the Emergency Blog Arena Football System. I wrote it, like I would write "free food" to test how many millions of you good folks would respond if a fat guy wore a jump suit to a wedding. Now to today's blog.

It seems like all of the soap operas are going away, except mine. Next Thursday, I report to my Doctor, Ron Popeil, and will have the surgery done in his back room. Doctor Popeil, many of you will remember was the inventor of the pocket skin cancer scraper. Dr. Popeil and I will bend over the sink where he does his laundry, and he will scrape the cancer off my nose, in a flash, for just $19.99 (plus tax, except in Texas).

I'm not too worried. Ron has had lots of famous patients in the past (the Joker, Two Face, Nixon, Popeye and many more) and is quite good at what he does. When I figure out what that is, I will post it here, on the blog, after I stop bleeding. He also cuts hair and does circumcision, of both I will also partake. And why not? I need a haircut (not too much on top) and my Rabbi checked all the boys last week, and said I'm not Jewish enough. Gotta do what the Pope says, ladies.

During the surgery (for real now, dudes) the doctor will scrape a little of the bump off of my nose, until they don't see anymore cancer in the laboratory. Then he'll take a little skin from my "smileline" and use that to plug up the hole he made with his pocket cancer knife. I could have saved everyone time by not getting the cancer in the first place! But I wanted to meet Ron Popeil anyway, and he won't come out of his room unless you have something. Did I do wrong?

I'll probably be back here on the blog once or twice before the squeezin' begins on Thursday. After that, it depends on how I look. If I get a Robert Taylor, I'll be back in the ring right away. If its a Larry Fine, I'll be in my apartment, looking out of Art Linkletter's old favorite window.

Updates, as they exist.

I lied

2010-07-17T10:12:00.000-07:00

On my last post, I wrote that I was more concerned about how I was going to pay for the operation than the skin cancer itself.

Hello, I'm Joey, Master Bullshitter Of 2010! We're going in and pluck it out a week from this coming Thursday. And though I usually only look in mirrors constantly, I find myself (and boy was I lost) looking as much as possible, wondering just how much of a Robert Taylor quality I will lose and gain that of a Larry Fine. I don't need no fucking Larry Fine hanging on my face, thanks.

The doctor said there will be a line where they will go into the "smileline" area, and strip out enough to plug the hole in my nose. I have two, both pick just fine, thanks. I don't want another one. Besides it wouldn't have any boogers anyway. I'll have to ask the doctor if I can even go back to my regular nose pickin' when this is all over.

All over. I suggested to the doc and his nurse that once someone gets a skin cancer then he is more likely to come up with another one. Right I was, though he just nodded and said yes.

So what does the future hold for Joey? The world waits while the doctor prepares his plane tool, and dives in looking for my bodily junk.

Joe

Skin Cancer

2010-07-13T12:58:00.000-07:00

Yep. Like old Shep, I have the little c. I went to my dermatologist a few weeks ago (well he ain't MY dermatologist...but I had been to him before for something, some shiney thing or something back in the ninties, and besides, I didn't know anybody else).

When I get there, I point out to the really nice and sexy P.A. (that's Physician's Assistant for those of you not in the trade) this bump on my nose I've noticed for off and on for God knows how long. She took a biopsy (she did it for FREE! Yikes! Man. She knew I did not have insurance and said it was gratis). Our old political doctors in Washington would have you believe that M.D.'s are only out for what they can grab, and only THEY, yes, only they, can reform this evil system run by devils whose pitchforks are primed to make you need an ass fixing. Is it the political docs who are the ones making us sick?

I got the call a couple of weeks ago. It was malignant, as the P.A. and the doctor who stepped in to check on me thought it was originally. The nice lady on the phone said I needed to come in and see the doctor.

Today the doctor had a real good look at the thing and had studied my biopsy. Look, boys, I was worried more about not having the money than the cancer itself. I knew it was the least of the cancers, Basel Cell Carcinoma, and was slow growing. But as the P.A. said today, while they don't spread into the nodes and other goods in your body, it can eat up your nose and affect your face. It's a little 'un, but it needed to be done.

The whole place was crowded with docs and nursies, and P.A.'s and patients, and extra people who are kind of like doormen. Except they don't open the doors and such to get you taxis and coffee, they man the desks, and like dealers in Vegas, rake in that dough.

Here's the part you people need to know. When the doctor came in, he explained what we needed to do, how he would do it, and then, he, the doctor himself, the one with all of the degrees on the wall, talked to me about the money. He knew I could barely make the office visit payment. He realized that if I didn't have this here thing broken off the side of my nose, weird things could happen to my face. So this "greedy member of the medical establishment" sat down, and said "we'll work with you on the payments". PAYMENTS! GD, Mommie, I was ready to go to the Payday Loan Store over by Down and Out Streets, and borrow the money at Five Billion percent (which is their right...their money, their terms). But the doctor said we can get the payments on this operation (which could run as much as much as $2,000) down low enough for you to be able to make it out ok. My words, there.

I NEVER Want to hear another word about Dear Leader Obama reforming health care for everyone. Consider this my friends. Human beings, given the chance to be charitable and considerate of the problems of others will VOLUNTARILY help little 'uns like myself, if the alternative is dire. Not always, but many more times than we are given credit for by the government. Those fat asses in D.C. who would have trouble putting a band-aid on a baby, want it all for themselves. Eventually, ALL FOR THEMSELVES! Christ, help me stop them!

My doctor could have had some dick in greens tell me "that we need payment up front". You know like barbers and politicians. But when given the chance, the people of this world, not out of responsibility, but in of acts of kindness (random if you want, this Doctor never saw me before today) step up to the operating table and hold the whole world on their shoulders.

Us little people thank them.

Joe Postove

Art, Art, Where Art Thou Art?

2010-07-10T10:19:00.000-07:00

My Art is dead. No, not the art of my blog which has been on the Internet since 2005. But rather my more important Art. The Art I grew up with and fained illness many times to skip school, so I could watch House Party, his daytime TV show which lasted until about 1970.

I loved him more than even Bob Keeshan. Captain Kangaroo kept me sedated until I was about 15, but when the show left the air, Bob Keeshan became an advocate for government "help" for television. Bob, who became world famous with a bunny rabbit, bear, a couple of big pockets, a moose, and ping pong balls, didn't believe that commercial tv could please kids the way he did my generation. They do, and he was wrong. And besides he just didn't look right without the Captain's suit on. I miss my captain too.

But I'm writing about Art Linkletter. He died a few weeks ago, just short of his 98th birthday. I had the cake, pies, Kool-Aid, shorten and longening breads, whistles, and breadsticks for another great birthday celebration like the ones we'd been having for years.

I miss my Art. On the 12th, I shall do nothing but sit by his favorite window in my apartment and cry.

Come home Art. Please start breathing again. We NEED you.

Joe Postove

Drink Up!

2010-07-03T08:58:00.000-07:00

It is quite appropriate that Independence Day is a legal holiday the day after the fourth this year, because I need a drink...bad. And a fifth of anything would do me good to bring in the New Year.

I have often been tempted just to kick politics to the curb, stop reading the papers and listening to NPR (yuck...but they picked my pocket to put on their show, so I might as well listen) and lock up the house and just walk away.

But I can't. Who would empty the pay toilets downtown, or hose down my special "clean whores" on Monday afternoons? For that matter, who would rumple my sheets or butter my bread on Fridays, before the sabbath cometh in?

But I yearn to take that walk. Or bolt up the doors and hermitize myself. I guess I'm waiting for the results of November's elections to see if we can install a new regime, not the same as the old regime. If we (Tea Party folk, libertarians, good Republicans, and the occasional stray Democrat) can clean up the mess from '08, then maybe I'll stay and get in touch with my inner being. She might need to go downtown.

WHAT...WHAT? She would go downtown for a new outfit or eat at Ruby Tuesday's. Not to use the toilets. Though she does have a free pass. It says on the pass "365 plop plops a year, plus unlimited #1's". I'm quite proud of the way we conduct our pay toilet chain. By the way, both on the fourth and the fifth we will have a free buffet and marching band at all of our locations. Come on down and go some, huh.

Tomorrow, when the beautiful people are sunning themselves into a skin cancer, remember the constitution of the United States, and the men and women who died for our freedom.

And we here will celebrate the fourth and fifth with due humility and reverence for those who have gone before us.

Joey

Well, Good.

2010-06-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

This was a most bountiful week for Dear Leader's non-fans. We had a general get himself kicked off the boat, on purpose (read the Rolling Stone article...he wanted to fall on his sword). He was there and saw the decrepitude of the youngsters playing games with the lives of other youngsters in combat gear. This not so bright young man (Obama) is surrounded by feebs who think they can run the country, a couple of wars, and business, not to mention my Pay Toilet Stalls if I gave them a chance. But I didn't take any tarp money, thank you very much, and we still shit like grown men. These men and women on Obama's staff, in their dilapidated state couldn't wipe Ronald Reagan's ass. Even now, when I assume it's pretty damn clean!

A federal judge saved a mega amount of jobs by allowing Gulf deep water drilling to continue, telling the President to eat him. And Mr. Obama looked limp. He looked like the skinny little, lightweight that he is, trying to fit into Harry Truman suit (whatever you think about THAT president, at least he knew what he was doing, even when moved around the statecraft in jerks and spits, and jolts). Truman was a pimp for the Pendergast gang and then for Roosevelt, until he got the reins and thought maybe he was president.

So..we little 'un's on the on the right side of history got some good snorts and laughs (beer was coming out of my nose) over our current president's light footed approach to governing. Yeah, he fired McChrystal, but what else was he gonna do, and still look like he had his hand on the steering wheel as the car of state continues to move backwards at an alarming speed? All the while, the president waves like good old Pope Roosevelt. I like the sense of my imagination working so that Mr. Obama is driving backwards in the Presidential limo, eventually ramming us into Cuba. If this was Bill Clinton, some girl with steering wheel marks on her back would have gone National Enquirer.

And all of this could not come at much of a better time. Ramping up to the mid-terms, the Tea Parties, libertarians, real conservatives, are poised to strike and take back the country.

And weakness in Obama is so sweet.

Thanks, my man!

Joe

Father's Day

2010-06-19T09:39:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I was checking out some movies from the library when the librarian stopped and asked me if I had an Uncle or a Father who used to check out books.

My Dad, dead 17 years tomorrow, on what was also then a Father's Day began to read more as he got older. Not working in retirement and long days getting longer, drew him to the library. He began to treasure his card.

I asked the librarian if she remembered his old key shop at Ward's Corner, or maybe the baseball caps with the names of his grandchildren he now wore everyday. That was it. The nice man with the caps. She smiled broadly at the memory of Dad, quiet, but always ready to take on a conversation, even if he felt ill. I wonder if she noticed my smile. For whenever someone remembers Dad, after all these years, and with so many of his contempoaries gone too, I smile. And cry some.

Irving Postove would be 88 now. Baseball hats and books.

I'll never be a father, but I got my father's day gift yesterday.

Joe

These Are The Good Times

2010-06-16T13:30:00.000-07:00

In Hell!

President Obama sat down with the CEO of BP today (which I think was very unfair...the President sat on a big chair in the throne room, sucking on oranges, grapes, and assorted goods, while the old man from BP had to take his pants off, sit on the White house toilet...which is supported by the taxbunnies) and came to the "agreement" that BP would set up a 20 BILLION dollar fund to help those blasted by the explosion.

Dear Leader came down off of the Throne, put the BP exec into a toe-hold and said unless you come up with the cash, I'm going to let the Muslim brotherhood have some fun with you (gee I hope they wern't naked). I'm not saying he couldn't have had fun with Mohammed's boys, but I'm going to err on the side of the BP guy not being aware of what the boys do when Dear Leader calls them out for special occasions like this.

Look, girls, the federal switchblade is a mighty mighty sword, and with all those threats and the President holding the knife to BP's neck, he came up with the cash. Check please.

Obama said that a "third party" would be responsible for keeping the tote board on claims. So who does he pick? Kenneth Feinberg, the former Czar of the 9/11 check cutting enterprise. This is Dear Leader's idea of an unattached third party. Feinberg is an insider, and ain't no "man in the middle". Obama's in charge, and will take the credit should we succeed in cleaning this thing up and compensating all of the folks down there who are taking this big mud bath.

However....if we fail, and this thing becomes another end of the world, then the blame goes to BP. Funny how the government is stink free.

Now...on to the greening of the world!

joey

Happy Birthday Gomer

2010-06-12T09:25:00.001-07:00

Gollllllllllllly! Can you believe it? Jim Nabors is 80 years old today. His late husband, Rock Hudson would now be nearly 85. Yikes.

Our memories of Jim are of course almost singularly of his wonderful portrayal of Gomer Pyle on "The Andy Griffith Show" and then the spin off "Gomer Pyle, USMC". They were and remain two of the finest achievements of sitcomania out of Hollywood. He could sing like a streak of lightning too. But I never bought a Jim Nabor's record. My money went to trash, like Yoo-Hoo's and malted milks. Oh, the many malted milks I had while watching Jim as Gomer freak old Sargent Carter out, only to have Sarge remorseful in the end. Ooooo. The internet guard, here at the library, says to cheese it on too much talk of Gomer and Sgt. Carter and their ends. Yeah, I can dig it it man. There must be video somewhere though, huh?

But such things we should avoid as we celebrate Jim Nabor's birthday. Let us celebrate the man, his fine fine comedic voice, and crystal clearing throat. Let us wish him many more happy days ahead, with satisfaction in life, and his goal of moving the Whopper from Big Boy's to Burger King.

Good luck Gomer. We love you!

Lil' Joey Postove

Heatie

2010-06-10T13:29:00.000-07:00

Norfolk is damn hot today. And I don't mean that in the good sense, in that you would like to take Norfolk out to a boat show, or downtown to a pay toilet, or maybe take in a movie at the film center just to show her off.

No, just hot. Like a million degrees Fahrenheit. Lots of sun (I gloobed on the sunscreen today, and I still feel like Granny after a lye soap bath). Now, of course I don't attribute any of this to global warming. This is happening because the Earth is being pushed by Martian hermaphrodites closer to the sun, so that Mars can catch a breeze when Venus swings by on the 20th of the month. Goddamn Mars! Bastards up there, with an inferior society (they don't have sex, or Nehi drinks, or tater tots, or any kind of tots as far as know). I have not made a thorough study of the subject. I just know what the folks at my pay toilets tell me.

That's another thing. Business at the pay stalls is off by half because of the hot weather. People, whoever they may be, hermie's, trans, gays, regulars, Orthodox Jews, Quakers, and all of the others who have their own special toilets are so beaten down by the hotness of God Almighty's ass perfume, that they can't even make it downtown to my commodes. And I am even providing free transportation for anyone who calls or telegraphs me down at the stalls. I'll send one of the kids from school with her wagon to pick you up, and carry you down for cut rate pee's and shit's. That right folks...I said cut rate. A #1 is now only a nickle and plop plops (under 10 minutes of course) are just a dime.

Won't you all come on out to our wonderful pay toilets? I'm on my knees here, folks. Cash supply is so low, that last night, I went to the bowling alley and stole some balls and pins. I made a buck on 'em.

Tomorrow we'll be serving watermelon, fried chicken, pizza, tacos, malted milks, toast and jam, and tater tots for the kids. There will be free balloons and rectal exams for the seniors. Open 24 hours a day, but come early. Please be a responsible citizen. Use our receptacles, and leave the 7/11 cups alone!

We'll all have a great time. My leg hurts.

Joe

They're Pumping As Fast As They Can

2010-06-03T13:44:00.000-07:00

BP (you bet your bippy) has taken full responsibility for the spill in the Gulf of Mexico, and has said they will pay all costs associated with the accident. I said accident. It was an accident. Meaning they did not do it on purpose, wishing against all hell that this had not happened, and have begged forgiveness from we the American people. The same American people who for generations have benefited from BP's scientific prowess and have swilled enough of BP's business genius to choke an elephant with a pretty big carbon footprint (they have those too, do they not?).

Yet, one of President Obama's henchmen, one of the first out of the gate to take charge, said that the boot of the government would be held fast onto BP's neck until they got all this shit cleaned up. Words to that effect anyway. I have yet to cease to be amazed at the hubris of those in government who "keep their boots on the neck of business" yet if business were to say, "OK, big boy, you fix it" the government would shit in its pants big time, probably requiring them to get some old treasury notes out of the closet to wipe themselves with.

The arrogant slobs. BP won't walk away, because they are and have proven to be a good corporate citizen, who when they foul up (and this was the mother of them) steps up to the plate and bows its head, and do a cool Stepin' Fetchit act to show that they know who's boss. Ain't that right boss?

On the other hand, when our Dear Leader or any of our past Dear One's make a mistake, well, they do take full blame and responsibility for it. And then go out and write about it in their ghostwritten autobiographies.

The question is not whether or not to give BP a break. They are not asking for one. They took blame before anyone had the chance to vilify all of capitalism. Capitalism made our world. When there are mistakes, the system corrects itself. And when they transgress Almighty government, they bow and scrape. And they still go ahead, head down, and fix the problem. Which is what BP will do.

I'd still like to see Obama try to take control of pumping that slicker out. He is so good at that. Or they say so, anyhow.

Joe

RIP Art Linkletter

2010-06-01T13:11:00.000-07:00

Not having a TV or Internet connection at home leaves me out of the scheme of breaking news, so it was only today that I found out about the death of Art Linkletter.

I loved him. I feigned illness many times just to stay home, naked and free, in order to watch "Art Linkletter's House Party". Art made me feel good, like someone talking directly to me, and not through me, like today's dumb TV MC's. He was funny, cute with the kids at the end of the show, a consummate broadcaster (one of the very finest...I am hard pressed to name another MC type who was better or more influential than Art). Who needed..who wanted..who cared a damn about learning arithmetic, history and all the other gradeschool bullshit, when Art was on TV teaching us how to be nice. And nice and clever. He had no fear (watch the kids say the darnedest shit sector of the show at the end) and he was smart.

Now you didn't have to be smart to be on TV (watch a 60's sitcom or five) but when one person had all of the qualities of Art Linkletter and every single day he made you feel that the world was just alright man, love was not a strong enough emotion for me. I think I idealized him like good old Loretta Young, but differently, somehow.

His private life was another question, losing a couple of kids tragically, and some more who got old before he died. But I care about as much about Art's private life as I do about his privates (and at 98, they must have been down to his knees).

He was my friend, though I never knew him. He was the best scout leader, though I was never a scout. I could relax with Art, and feel clean afterward.

As you all know, we have been having the annual Art Linkletter picnic and birthday party each year on his birthday, July 12th. This year, I'll just stay in bed, and miss my good good friend.

God bless you Art Linkletter. And thanks for all of the sunshine.

Joe Postove

RIP Gary Coleman And Dennis Hopper

2010-05-29T10:27:00.000-07:00

Two giants of the entertainment industry have died. OK, one giant and a little 42 year old man-boy.

Dennis Hopper was in probably the best of the early counter-culture films of the 60's "Easy Rider". William F. Buckley once asked a friend why he didn't care for the film, saying, "after all, it had a happy ending".

Hopper died of cancer just minutes ago in Variety. His style and stern continence will be remembered for all time, if the world ends tomorrow. He was, in fact, a fine actor, of individualistic skill and talent.

Gary Coleman was just funny. "What you talkin' about Willis" was one of tv's staple funny lines in the 80's. His parents, reportedly stole all of his money, and made him a bitter old man before his time. His wife was by his side, with a drink on his head at the time of his passing.

Gary, we hardly knew ye'.

Joe

A New Post

2010-05-29T09:28:00.000-07:00

Christians throughout my sector here in downtown Norfolk have been spitting on my front porch (where I keep the extra toilet) and demanding that I post anew to my blog. The reason I haven't been posting as much as of late is my stomach hurt. And so Mom let me stay home from school. And when she was out shopping I hopped downstairs naked and free of all shame to gather up my lunch bucket of peenut butter sandwiches, cottage cheese ala' pocket (with egg matzo), ice milk, some Tabs, and Mom's dirty book "Valley Of The Dolls". I grabbed a paper bag and took it all up stairs where I could eat, watch American Bandstand, sleep, and make myself blind, all before God.

So there it is. Someone once told me that when you don't know what to do, the thing to do is get out of town. So I took a walk to East Norfolk yesterday to try out the gambling casino and whore house. I think I like the whore house better because, well, because they got whores there. It's not like the casino where you play your cards and take your chances. With the gals (Gad! I hope they were girls. I did everything the right way, so what else could they have been? But it was dark in there. And even darker way way in there. So if any of you hermaphrodites reading this right now remember a Jewish man with a nice butt and peenut butter stains on his hands, for God's sake please keep anything you might know about me to yourself). But it had to be a gal. I may be blind (onanism, forgive me) but I know a thing or two about a thing or two. And I think by the third go round I would have known if you were anything but 100% fleshy female.

Which brings me to my ninth topic of the evening, mincemeat pie. I realize that the government is getting all agitated and in a Cold Cold Sweat over this "don't ask don't tell business". As well they should. Back up to the pies. Homosexuals in the 19th century were kept out of polite society, so to slide into the 400 in Mrs. Asstor's ballroom (which the gays had all the wrong ideas about, but that's their problem) they formed the " Polite Pie Society" which would crank juicy fruit pies made by fruits themselves (they did not object to this term at the time). But what is the first thing they do? One of the "boys" had an idea for a "mincemeat pie" which would reflect the political and personal habits of the group. Up until then all pies had been filled with fruit. But what if they had a pie filled with meat (only God knows where they got the meat) and minced up and down Broadway, yelling, "get our big meat pies, ladies...watch us walk, we're just like you"). This of course was before we're here and we're queer movement of the 80's.

It didn't take. Not only were mincemeat pies banned in all 50 states, but the President of the United States himself, Grover Cleveland said in 1894 "This perverted movement of some in our society to gain acceptance by walking like girls to sell pies filled with who knows what kind of meat is unAmerican". And so went the Mincemeat Pie and those behind it. It would be years before our oppressed brothers would be able to have dirty meetings in the park.

And so it goes.

Joe

Selling Apples

2010-05-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

Because of the financial crisis, I am now selling juicy red delicious apples, just outside my pay toilets at the corner of Church and Nebraska Streets in downtown Norfolk.

I see this as a temporary thing to supplement my income because more people are peeing and shitting behind those big garbage cans at the 7/11, and into paper bags and then wildly throwing them into the public square for the birds (they eat that stuff..can you believe it?).

My main income comes from the toilet base of my empire and with more people cheating and loosening their bowels, and pee pipes for free, and forgetting their responsibility to our fellow citizens to keep a clean city, I have to sell these here apples.

The big juicy ones that I wash in the toilet (after flushing of course...what do you think I am, some kind of criminal or perv?) are 5 cents. The smaller, mid-sized apples, about the size of a nice ladies bosom are 3 cents, and the lowest cost apples, which are made from shit, pee pee, and apples juice, then rolled into a ball to look like an apple are only 1 cent. They are that tasty (I tasted them) and they taste somewhat like chicken filled with shit. However, for a penny, what do you want? I do not control the apple market in this sector of Virginia, therefore, I have to compete in the marketplace. I am being very honest with you, naturally.

I am also considering adding lemonade to my apple cart. But I don't know if I can afford the real stuff. So it may be made from other things.

I blame the government.

Joey Postove

Tea Party

2010-04-17T07:30:00.000-07:00

So many things here on the blog and in the general media take on a pessimistic tone these days, so when I went to the Tea Party rally on tax day this past Thursday, my mind started to wander. I got a little drunk on the whole vibe (man).

I had never been surrounded by so many people who loved, lived, breathed, and sucked up liberty as their life force, ever in my whole life. There was probably a couple of thousand real middle class workers who listened and cheered speakers from the Tea Party as they spoke about our plans for a velvet revolution.

Yeah, most of the folk were white, and coupled up, but there were a smattering of blacks, gay looking peeps, mis-fits, fits, a few homeless looking people (I had no change...damn!) all of them citizens gone wild, clapping and yelling and yaying as the platform people spoke about taking back the country from our minders in ObamaLand.

They all knew what I knew. That we never gave it to them to wreck in the first place. No one that I knew, even those who voted for Our Dear Leader either out of disgust for the Republican lies and spendthriftery, or who thought "hey give this guy a chance...he can't be worse than Bush" believed we could go so far down, away, and out of the orbit of the Constitution so fast. But boy, did we!

Meanwhile back at the ranch, I was sucking up the rarefied air of liberty from all the people who loved liberty, appreciated capitalism as the only moral economic system (as the only one that does not require the use of force) and were not afraid to shout it from the roof tops. Gee whiz, if we'd only had some roof tops! I think there may have been some people there who understood the concept of individualism better then me (but how could that be!). For two hours on Thursday, I was living in a world of peaceful, freedom loving hoot and hollerin' regular like folks. Like in Mayberry.

BARNEY FOR PRESIDENT!

At least he was inept. That's where they go, you know. The ept have jobs and families, and run companies, and make money, love and peace. The inept like to govern the ept.

The best speaker by far was a middle aged black preacher from somewhere around here, who was UNAFRAID to take the President and his soldiers to task. He spoke like Martin Luther King, except better and more honestly. I wish he had said "free at last, free at last, great God all mighty, we're free at last"! I give him all props due him. And more black people, Jews (my people) gays, apoliticalites, hermaphrodites, and any and all who once thought that the state was the way to change people and that liberals were blessed by God, will follow him, us, to this November, and the next and the next, and the next. Until this little freedom movement that started in the 50's among conservatives and radical capitalists (libertarians) gets the country out of the clutches of the ones who hate what America once stood for, and deliver us back into the hands of the real Freedom Riders.

With liberty and justice for every one of us.

You don't think we can ever again have a free country? That it's too late for all that? Go to a Tea Party. We are a country of people who are finally sticking our heads up and out of our comfort holes and getting wise.

Get wise, dudes.

Joe

Consider This

2010-04-14T13:37:00.000-07:00

Take a break and consider this. No I'm not losing my religion (I'm a Jew, so my standing is in flux as far as God is concerned) but I've been thinking a lot about our ongoing financial crisis (which like all crisis will go on forever in some kind of makeup).

"Blame Fingers", on every tv, radio, and newspaper show point the finger to either the government, the greedy banks who didn't care what kind of money you made, as long as they could throw money out of the window to get you in a nice little house, Wall Street playboys who supposedly cut up all of these sophisticated loans, spread them all over Luxembourg and all get out, to people who did not read the papers, and trusted American moneybag men to make them rich with a wink and a smile.

My head is about to explode. I listen to radio much of the day, read the magazines and papers, and even I cannot wrap my winkie around all of this information.

Perhaps a modest suggestion, or perhaps better said an idea from me, who does not understand the markets as the heads on tv explain them, but, well you've known me long enough...if you sit down, hold my head, and explain something in easy to understand terms and in English, there's a good chance I might get it.

Let's go back to "consider this". What if all of the banks, stock brokers, mortgage bankers, and all of the other companies who shake you down and pump you up had NO EXPECTATION OF GOVERNMENT REGULATION OR BAILOUTS EVER AGAIN?

I'm saying this. Our minders, all of them would say that monopolies are bad, yet the world of government regulation and the people who populate these bodies is small enough to fit inside Ed Sullivan's crypt, with room enough left over for Mom Mabley's teeth, and Art Linkletter's stroke.

Strike all that. Think big outside the little baby box that government and liberal analysts give us to come up with neat new ways of this shit never happening again. I think I've heard that cool "never happen again" a few times in the last few winks. But it always happens again. When a government agency fails to do its "job" what do government agencies suggest? Give us more money and power so we can wreck things even better next time. They don't say that. They want more money because they truly believe that with more authority to pick our pockets (I'm down to lint) they can make sure that next time we're in the clear.

If a private company failed to undertake it's undertakings like the Feds do, do you suppose we would hear calls from Congress for more power for the private sector! Only the private sector can save us now!

Help! Help!

The government must scoot away from hammering away at this notion that only they can protect the people from the greedy (fill in the blank).

Now...get out of that box. The coporations and the banks and all of those fella's with our money must not have the only institution with a legal monopoly on the use of force to make sure they're being honest. It is now time to enter a new world. That is the world of private, free market regulation. That is where those that are regulated are not all gayed up with the G-Men, but are subject to the authority of a much better and more efficient authority; the private market of regulation.

Just like Consumer Reports takes no money from those that it reports on, but rather from the millions who buy and read its publications, and the millions who, in a free market of consumerism, decide what they can eat by relying on the Kosher authorities who regulate the food manufacturers, and thumb their nose at the government. Because the kosher regulators, the Consumer Reports and others just like them have built up a reservoir of trust and good will over the decades and centuries.
People trust them. Not the state. We need to free the system of regulation from the government, and hand it over to a panoply of private companies, who have every incentive that the statists do not.

To retain the trust of their customers.

And it would not be a bad idea to look up when you throw your money to a broker.

Joey Postove

Boy Do We Need Our Thumbs

2010-04-10T08:19:00.000-07:00

This week, I mashed my left thumb between two big truck drums at work. These ladies weigh about 150 pounds each, and when I caught my little handdick between them, it screamed, and gushed blood, till it could gush no more. I hate to gush.

I took the thumb to the worker's comp doctor (somehow I see this as a future "public option" when the bosses start adding on extras to DeathCare) and he patched it up, stroked it, put a little dress on it, kissed it and made it all better, and told me to get back to work, some more truck drums were coming in.

It really hurt for about two days, but since it was my left thumb and not my main one, I was able to...well, I was..well for Christ sake, you figure it out. I could still have thumb parties with my useful handdick, so all was not lost. Though I did lose some seeds.

Yesterday, the doctor (who somehow, miraculously, was the SAME one I saw on Monday...the day of the tragedy) and he said I was good to go, and gave me a penny for the gumball machine after my haircut.

I like these little "Doc In The Box" places where you can go for little hurtin's, but I have been there before, and it is quite like I have never been there before. You know the look. "Who the hell are you, what are you doing here, fill out this exact same form you filled out yesterday, and sit in that non-assable chair for a couple of hours. Then, if we can squeeze your shit in, baby, maybe the doctor will see you. Or maybe you'll die. Your call, bitch".

If we can't stop the DeathCare express from gathering even more steam, then I expect we'll all have our own little doc in the box.

What DO they call someone who finishes last in medical school?

Next time: If I die, call my Mom.

Joe

April Fool's!

2010-04-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

I'm about two days late with this, but my grandma was once two days late, and thus I was, 39 years later borned to this world.

Yeah, this world. I love it so, yet I hate most of the people. And I know this is not polite, as I have not met hardly any of them. But I'll bet they're trash. But I don't know, so I'll just hate those that I know. And you know who you are.

I can't put my finger on it (though I have probably put my hands on it a couple of million times) but things seem to be getting harder. I can't find "Ben And Jerry's" Heath Bar Crunch yogurt, only the ice cream kind. What the hell is going on? I can understand not being able to find Urine ice cream, or Doo Doo pancakes, but for years and years Heath Bar Yogurt has been so good to me, and I love it, and cuddle it, and lick it off the spoon. Also I kiss the box it comes in, and cry when I have finished it all. What do Ben and Jerry want from me? It's not like I'm asking for "Kosher For Passover" shit and all.

I guess I'm depressed. I gotta work, but I hate my job. I hate my job, but I gotta eat, I gotta eat, but...well I couldn't go any further with that. It would be endless, and only my main peeps would read anything I wrote that was endless.

Have a nice Easter, Christ babies. Eat a pig roast at Aunt Bee's after Church. And most of all, LOVE ME!

LOVE ME!

Joey Postove (6 1/2 years old)

Spring Is Here

2010-04-01T14:18:00.000-07:00

Yes, spring has sprung, and we all will now twist.

I've been working very hard this week so I haven't had much energy to blog and shit. Well, I have done more of the latter than the former, because #2 is covered by DeathCare, I think.

I got a notice from the National Board Of Medicine today that if I intend to do operations at my pay toilet locations, then I come under the National Act Of Sacrifice, which means all the extras that I provide at the stalls (corner of Church and Nebraska in downtown Norfolk) will now be under regulation by rectal doctors, penis men and vagina specialists.

I DEFY THE LAW! I have in over five years of providing a clean, cool, and very much needed service downtown also done so much more. You could read more about this is my autobiography "I'm The Shit Man" published by the "Ladies Home Companion Book Club", but here is the gist:

I, of course have the cleanest and most exciting Pay Toilets in the southeastern sector of Virginia. Plus I have done thousands of circumcisions, shaves, rectal thermometer testing (all turned out ok, too. I have a guy named Easy who checks most of the rectal thermometers in the United States, and he is very pleased). I also serve full course meals in and out of the pay stalls, we have orchestra night every Saturday, we donate our waste products (pee and shit) to needy countries throughout the world, plus we have surgeons standing by in case of rectal or bladder emergencies.

I am proud of what we have done with this industry, and the attempts by the Obama administration to stamp us out (and if they try it again, I have something in a bag for them...a nice hot foot if the government dares to come out the front door...I'll run though) are illegal and immoral.

Can't we all just get along? I had planned to add a dentist to the toilets, but now, with who knows what will happen with National DeathCare, I just don't know what to do.

I'm just a poor man. A man trying to eke out a living in this very competitive Pay Toilet business. We have, over the years added stalls for hermaphrodites, gays, semi gays, trans, bi's, regulars, midgets, and special toilets for those who feel lost. Lost in a society that just doesn't seem to care anymore.

I feel so lost. I feel socialism will eventually make all of us in Norfolk crap in our pants. What a shame. What a waste. When we can do so much and make big money selling hot dogs too, I think this nation has turned a corner. Down oneway street, where there are no pay toilets, and thus a far less special world.

This is not the America I have known.

Joe Postove

So Try On This New Thing Here

2010-03-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

Now that DeathCare is the law of the land, and Republican attempts to squash it through parliamentary maneuvers won't in my best guess gain any traction, we gotta do what we gotta do as individuals.

Me? I'll try it on, and see how she fits. I have very low hopes, but being a libertarian does not make me a chump. I wish this unamerican thingy would just disappear, but for now we little un's have to take our lumps (and get our lumps checked out for free by our new "Good Government Doctors").

I want a lot of stuff. I need things lengthened, straightened out, put back, removed, loved, pumped up, and whatever else I can order from the new federal menu of medical delights. I don't think I need it yet, but I'm going to have a face lift and breast enhancement surgery to start off. Who knows when I'll start to sag, and what kind of person I'll be in five years, when we may yet beat back this monster and return to private medicine. I say, why take a chance? I may never have the money for a full facial and designer breasts again. Right now, I'm not sure what I'll do with with my new bosoms, but I do know I'll never leave home again. As God is my witness, I'll never go hungry again. I hope they come loaded with chocolate milk. I CANNOT get pregnant, however! I'm not ready for that, yet.

As I posted up there some, I want a bigger, thicker, more reliable penis. I do not find this to be in contradiction with my new breasts. I can be the same full man that I am now, just with the little extras that DeathCare will provide. In fact, I'm thinking, that perhaps I should thank the President for his willingness to go out and get the little extras that will make life a little easier around the house. That, and a woman who appreciates a 38D man.

I want a big ass tv, and a smaller ass. Smaller feet, like my Mom's. Less talk, more music. Free Pap Smear (with extra Pap!), A bigger, thicker...oh yeah...more hair on my head, and less on my rear end. I suppose the smaller ass I will get will take care of that. I would hate to have all the hair I have there now to stay on when the doctor makes me smaller.

I would like to be smoother. Not only in body but in spirit. I need the guidance of a good government to teach me right from wrong, left from far left, and why God didn't make me better looking.

Sure, I realize all of this will cost money that we don't yet have. I expect the taxes on my pay toilet operation to increase, as well as fees on puppy shit, barnstorming hermaphrodite baseball teams, toe rings (the tax on that is already too high, but what are you gonna do?) and other fees and taxes on all the good stuff. I didn't ask for this new experiment in medicine, but now that it's here, we have to dance with the one we brung.

But the fight goes on, fellow libertarians!

Joey (Bosoms) Postove

And So It Is.....

2010-03-23T13:57:00.000-07:00

President Obama signed the Death Bill into law today, but states around the nation are gearing up to sue the Feds on many counts, and this might be the start of something big.

But I am so doubtful sometimes. We the people have allowed those who love "the people" but hate persons, to move the leftist agenda, bit by bit, step by step, a little dash here, some salting there, to the big pot where they make a very good communist stew. And now...should we be surprised that we are the ones being cooked?

The great honest socialist and anti-communist Norman Thomas who ran for president six times said in 1948, after quiting American politics: "The American people will never knowingly adopt Socialism. But under the name of 'liberalism' they will adopt every fragment of the Socialist program, until one day America will be a Socialist nation, without knowing how it happened."

Death Care did not suddenly occur in the middle of the night, and pop up and wake us in the morning to say "you now belong to us". This was a long time coming. It DOES NOT mean that we who still hang on to our ideals and will work and cry, and do just about anything to reverse this abomination (a word I hate to use...but this one time, ok?) are giving in. Even though this is, for now...FOR NOW...the law of the land. If anything the conservatives and libertarians in this country have got to quadruple our efforts to not only take this country back to liberty and the great ideas of the founders, but to stop, at every political intersection, the agenda of tyranny and hate of the left and the sloppy moderates who will blow you for a quarter if it gets them reelected.

I know that tv is great. X-Boxes are cool. I guess "American Idol" is a gas. But our nation is slipping away from us. Faster than I could have ever expected. What we are losing is not the real estate that is the USA, but the idea. We are a country founded on ideas, not conquest, royalty, or religion. And the idea is the freedom of man. We gave up a lot of it Sunday night. And the socialist gropers are far from through.

If you read my blog, I'm talking to the ones who stumble upon me once in a while, I often write in the absurd. Let me assure you, I was not born this way. My absurdest view of things has come straight from my education in the government schools, and my exposure to too many people who are busy with TVLand.

You either fuck TVLand, or you are fucked, my good friends. All my life I have heard conservatives say that if we allow this law or that law to pass then we might move closer to a less free society, or if this passes, we may be in real trouble. Those times are over, babe. WE ARE THERE! Put your good pants on and start thinking about what it means to be an American. We are in real trouble, right now.

Would you rather be an American or be free? I choose freedom. That is American

More to come...

Joe Postove

Into The Abyss

2010-03-18T14:12:00.000-07:00

This week the Democrats in ratsville are putting Full Johnson's on wavering party members to try to get them to embrace the Death Care package.

Lyndon Johnson (one the few presidents to have a body part named after him) when confronted by a Republican or especially a recalcitrant Democrat, would bring that person close in to old LBJ's body, like a big Texas hug, and before they knew it, the congressman was in Lyndon's death grip. This was the Full Johnson; where the big, tall, fat, president would enclose the not yet cooperating politician into his loving arms, and then squeeze. Not enough to kill, but enough that the 36th president of the United States meant business. "You see things my way now, senator, am I right on that? Now you go on and vote right, y'hear?"

Dear Leader don't play that, but he and his associates in the crime capital of the world, Washington, D.C. are putting on the pressure on just the handful of Democrats who could make this bill law, or bring it down. What with rides in Air Force One, lunch in the oval office, skinny dippin' in the White House pool, perhaps even a wink or two about how this or that pol could be set up in Vegas real nice, the leadership of the party is going all out.

They realize that they have damned themselves to a big loss of members in the November elections. The folks who voted for Obama as punishment for the Republican lies and corruption during the Bush reign of terror, I do not think, ladies, intended to install Leon Trotsky into the White House. So if the Democrats can squeeze this bill through, which will change our country from a great power that has lost its way, to another France or Holland, albeit a big'un, they can wait this whole thing out. And when the Republicans fuck up down the line (doubts? Check the internet) and the next generation of Social Democrats get the big stick again, they can build on all of what they have already stuck the country with....until they have turned us into the "United Socialist States Of America" And then where are we? Why do they want to destroy the greatest nation in the world? Why do they hate us? I hope they don't have pilot licenses.

Christ, and the rest of the world is discovering the greatness of capitalism, just as we may be about to ditch it.

Do I hear the boat whistle for The Cayman islands? We've got till Sunday. At least that's when they think they'll have the votes.

Make them stop. Please make them stop!

Joe Postove

A Death In The Family

2010-03-16T14:24:00.000-07:00

Ron Lundy, a legendary dj at the best radio station that there ever was (WABC-New York) has passed away.

You can read posts about this great talent and very nice man at the New York Radio Message Board, and my post to the board, here:

RIP, Radio Man. So much can and will be said about this great talent, so I can only add... my little bit. Ron Lundy, on the beach, in the car, in a motel, at my cousin's house, anywhere that great distinctive voice was heard was more than a dj. He was GOOD COMPANY.

Hello Luv was his trademark or catchphrase, but I never tired of it. I guess Ron wasn't a "personality" in the way Bruce and Dan are, but he was without doubt, in the tippitytop of the old pop crop of friends we invite into our space. Ron made me smile. He didn't have to tell a joke or get off a fast one liner. It's worth saying again. Ron Lundy was good company.

He has been missed for years now, since his retirement from CBS-FM. The world was a happier place when "hello luv" came out of my radio. 75 is too young, but Ron, if you're watching us from somewhere today, know that those who listened to you for years, even though they may have never seen your face, loved you. Sympathy to his family, his best friend, Dan Ingram, and millions of fans who smiled when he talked. I love you Radio Man.

Joe Postove

BM Now 40 Years Old!

2010-03-13T10:42:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, March 14th 2010, is the 40th anniversary of my BM. It was on that date in 1970, I went all out, and became the man that I am today (I am so ashamed).

BM, for the Christ Lovers is of course my "Bar Mitzvah" where a young Jewish gentlemen trains for years and years so that when he turns 13 he can be proclaimed a man, and according to Jewish tradition his dad is supposed to buy him his first whore. And of course we train to sing a portion of the Torah (Judaism's most holy book...other than "das Capital") in order to become a full member of the congregation, liable for all duties and responsibilities that all other men in the shul undertake.

I just took a shit. I exploded because all of the above is so full of shit, I was about to come out the ears. and that ain't a Jewish custom. I think my folks actually forgot it was coming up on the time when I should start studying for the big day. I was eleven before I started Hebrew school, so I had two years to learn my entire Torah portion, when the other kids in the class were starting when they were six or so. So I had a lot of catching up to do.

I didn't care. I knew I would learn the Hebrew (I could read it, but I didn't know a word it said) and be ready for the big day.

It's about the money. In 1970, I dragged in about two grand, which for the times wasn't bad (wasn't Neil Sedaka money, but my Dad was a locksmith, and we really didn't have any money in the family). So I got up on the Jew stage (the Bima) and started speaking in tongues as far as I was concerned. I was thinking of the luncheon after I finished, and then the party at the house that evening. I was now a man.

My sister Toby killed herself about 6 months before my Bar-Mitzvah. She was 27, the smartest and most loving member of my family, and she was not there. I made a speech in English at the luncheon about how I missed her so. I did. We all did.

What started as a money and get it over with thing, became all for my sister.

Because Toby wasn't there.

Joe

Health Care

2010-03-09T14:55:00.000-08:00

The old man (old man Obama) is really beating the bushes this week to get the health care bill passed. I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die. I'm a young guy and when those government doctors get their hands on me, they might turn me into a woman, or give me an un-greased, unwanted, colon exam with the big old steel rods that homosexual doctors used in the fifties just to try to turn us. Ain't turning me. Especially with some old army doctor.

I don't need no stinking rod up my ass (just think how much it'll stink when they pry it out!). I just want to live my life, with lots of money and books, a wide screen tv, ice cream in the ice box, and maybe a woman (a gentle understanding one) once in a while, just to keep my ball(s) in the game.

But I want the State to stay the hell out of my medicine cabinet. You already know, from reading my former posts, that all this is, is a "good first step" to what they really want: SINGLE PAYER SOCIALIST MEDICINE!

This shaft is bad enough. Keep them out of my body (fingers, whatever they decide to put in there if the Dear Leader gets his way) keep them out of my books, my speech, what I put in my body (needless to say, also whatever I take out of there too) and stay in Washington and try, for the first time in too long to just run the government. Isn't that hard enough without you people taking on the whole fucking world? Run the streets, cops, military, courts, the stuff that at least you exhibit some idea of how it's done. Leave my ass and all my goodies, sick or well, to me and my chosen caregiver.

It's going to be a tight squeeze here, dudes. I have, as you know, razzed the Republicans for years for their dropping their goal of smaller government, and replacing it with "we can do that too, just better". You know you can't, and that's why we punished you in '08. Now the Republicans can show us if indeed they are the party of small, and do everything they can, inside and outside the law to prevent this heinous Death Bill from becoming law.

Republicans: This is your last chance.

Joe Postove

Off The Edge

2010-03-06T09:00:00.000-08:00

When the news says that the federal budget is heading for a train wreck with reality, I think to myself "haven't I heard this song before"? Are we not into the throes of a nation, not soon, but right this minute, making gurgling sounds as the ship of state dives head first into the unknown (unknown being the whole world holding our debt, coming to cash in and finding the only thing in the Treasury Building is the nightwatchman from the Jack Benny Show)?

Dear Leader's proposed 2011 budget adds about 10 trillion and change to the national debt (minus the 12 billion in cuts) over the next decade. Now I know that our great leaders are doing all they can to...to...do something about this ballooning debt. Their words, not mine.

We have heard for my entire life (which spans from sometime ago until now) that unless we get the national debt and the budget process under control, we're in for it. Well, forget about that, we're in it, now and deep. And I really don't see a way out. The prognosticators on the tube and the left over magazines in the barbershop say we gotta do SOMETHING!

And then they go on to say that there isn't much we can do. After all, a big piece of every years budget is already claimed by the old and sick and stupid and dirty and friends who do not have access to a good pay toilet, so they use the government stalls, which are carriers of disease and the mail (at least the mailman won't be able to use the WC on Saturday any more soon. The Post Office says they want to cut Saturday delivery...at least the bills won't depress my already sunk weekend).

What can we do, folk(s)? We are now hostages of our own government. The same government who promised so much when they took and spent the money in the first place. AND NOW they want more so they can kill us with their love of us and the devil's health care.

The radio talkers have been saying for years that if we keep on spending the way we have, trouble is on the way. Trouble is here, babe.

And she's a bitch.

Joe Postove

New Bread

2010-03-04T13:06:00.000-08:00

Don't worry if you haven't heard about my newest product on the market. We're moving it out slowly to see just how much interest there is amongst the little un's and if they would buy this product for themselves and their dysfunctional families. After all, me, the king of Pay Toilets in my sector should put out new food items now and then. I'm getting it both ways, in and out. Hot dog! And that ain't a metaphor.

Starting next week, I will be offering "Joe's Country Crunch Bread". I put quote marks around it so that no one can steal my ideas, like some guy, years ago, who took my invention of the home rectum set to check your tushy meat in case you thought something fishy might have gotten in there. My home set would allow you to fish it out with a specially made hook, that latched onto your little thing back there that flips around, and you would get whatever was in there, out. I don't want no more stealing of my ideas.

So here's my idea. "Joe's Country Crunch Bread" is fresh, but it tastes really hard and crunchy, like two day old bread. I like two day old bread, and most of the people that I associate with are with me on this. But, of course, I don't associate with many people (someone said my mind was chopped liver) but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I've got a new product on the market, and you're gonna eat it, and love it.

"Joe's Country Crunch Bread" comes in packs of two, four and six. They are already smeared with peanut butter and jelly, to save you Moms the hassle of getting up after a night of hard drinking and loving with a strange man, to fix your dumb kids lunch.

Just set Joe's Bread out on the kitchen counter, with a sign for the kids that they should eat this at school. If, however, your kids can't read, then just stick it in the toilet, so that when he or she makes morning plop plops, They'll get the idea.

Isn't this fabulous? The money is rolling in now, and I have to say that I'm doing a service for the community in rolling out this new sack of bread already jellied and buttered. I mean, look, what the hell do you want? A five course dinner, with demitasse, and olives and expensive shit like that? C'mon. Go my way, and just get the sack of bread (the 6 pack) and you can sleep till 12 noon. What do you need to get up at 6 to fix the kids lunch when you've had such a hard night? Get with me, babe, and we'll rule the world (of my new stink bread).

Now, Joe's Country Crunch Bread" is available at all Joe Postove Pay Toilets, Whore Houses, Shoe Shine Stands, Beauty Parlors, Casino's, and...oh...did I remind you about the whore houses? You can get my new bread and MORE at one of my prostitutes stalls, plus relax. I'm not calling the police on you or anyone else. What you feed your kids is your business.

I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when Merv is on.

Joe Postove

Congrats To The Ex VP

2010-02-23T13:43:00.000-08:00

Well, Dick Cheny had his annual heart attack and picnic over on the picnic grounds at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington today. This is the time of year that Dick likes to get his heart attack(s) out of the way, so that he can rumble with the arch-conservatives, and pretend that the people in the VFW Hall represent a cross section of the country. And truth be told, they do. In CHENEY COUNTRY.

Today's heart attack was sponsored by the "All American Anti Communist League" which usually brings the potato salad and other fixin's to the heart attack, and leaves the big food like hot dogs, cakes, chicken pot pies, and blueberry pies to the Woman's Brassiere League, who also usually brings the milk. The Acorn people inexplicably were there and brought the choking foods. They were seen force feeding the former VP chicken necks and hot pudding. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Also, we can't end today's blog without congrats to Phyllis Shafly for resuscitating Dick so they could get him to the emergency room before he died right there on the grass. Mrs Shafly, even though she is 89 years old this coming Sunday, threw her whole body into getting Dick breathing again. A true conservative!

The former Vice President is reportedly resting uncomfortably in the Richard Nixon memorial room, where funnily enough, not only did Dick Nixon die there, but so did Jackie "O", Mom's Mabley, Ed Sullivan, Topo Gigio, Ted Kennedy, Marcus Garvey, Dick Clark, Mrs. Snyder, my old cousin, and many other completely dead people.

But Mr. Cheney lives! And we are all praying (insert for or against here, please) that things turn out for the (please insert best or worst here).

(Please inset good or bad here) luck to former Vice President Dick Cheney!

Mr. Cheney's next heart attack will be announced when he starts to feel a little nauseous. Like a cherry pit in the chest. That kind of thing.

Joe

He Said It Over 30 Years Ago

2010-02-20T10:24:00.000-08:00

A man of wisdom. Oh, Archie, where art thou, when we really need ya?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fqCS7Y_kME&feature=related

The Adjudication Of The Case Of Tiger Woods

2010-02-20T08:43:00.000-08:00

First thing. As much as Tiger Wood's apology to the Universe and everything in it yesterday was heartfelt (If I had a TV, I might have almost cried), perspective must rule the blog.

He's a golfer. Not a real big guy like Bill Clinton, who we all got into that mess with 10 years ago or so, but an "athlete" who has amassed a billion dollars so far. But he needed to explain his situation, and we the people, plotzed down in our chairs and watched the spectacle for what it was.

What was that now? More men cheat on their wives than their golf games, and are none the worse for it. And many of them value their golf games more than they do Mrs. Ball and Chain back home. Look it up. It's in the Talmud, somewhere in the middle. Goodie.

As I ride around town dropping off auto parts, I hear many of the garage men say they have turned off all of the bad news of the CNN's, et al, and after supper turn on ESPN and drift off to sleep, having given up what Tiger seemingly so much enjoyed. But TIGER WOOD'S marital situation? We need a channel for that it seems.

I realize he invoked The Buddha, and this must seem to him to have some influence in getting forgiveness from the world of monks who follow golf.

The man has a billion, a beautiful wife, he's still young and lovable (though I don't love him that much...never did) and he's asking us, the people, to forgive him. I have a really nice abacus and it computes really well (it's a 1467 model, I found it under my tree downtown) and I don't think we the wee people are really worried about Tiger.

Lord....We little'uns just want to get by, pay our rent, have enough food, a roof, and all the other stuff that keeps us alive like maybe some of those women that he's gonna have to ditch, may I suggest that? We ain't got time, Lord, to worry too much about Tiger. I know that some of you (I hope there are some of you reading me today, huh?) will post websites, billboards, match covers and all kinds of communications (did I forget semaphores?) to help save Tiger.

Forget about all that. We need you in our defense plants, pay toilets, pinball machine mechanics, houses of prostitution, houses of non-prostitution, and candy stores with a counter that serves breakfast 24 hours a day, and other vital jobs during wartime to allow too much effort expended to forgive and make up with Tiger (and if history is any lesson, he'll kiss and make up with you, if you're a sweet broad...but that's for another session). We need to get our country back on its axis, steer the course straight, kick out lots of politicians this year and in 2012. We just have too much to do to get Tiger back upright.

I think he should take a year or five, romance his wife like he did before he got her to marry him, get down on his knees like the dog that he is (oh sorry, that was from another posting...scratch that please) and beg his wife for another chance.

Leave us out of it. Besides let's save the good stuff for our President (I know that some of you prefer to call him "Dear Leader") when he has his sex scandal.

Then we got some meat.

Joe Postove

Closed For A Minute

2010-02-19T04:22:00.000-08:00

Hey! Don't worry about it! We will be right back after you pick up your room.

And take out the garbage, please! We missed the garbageman last week, and, well, you know what happened...rats, big fat black rats that looked like your mama, filled with the plague (Juicy!) and who knows what all, over ran the house.

So, gang...I'll be back. And when I get here, I would like to see a nice house.

Capice?

Lil' Itralian Joey

Winter Olympics

2010-02-16T14:51:00.000-08:00

The Winter Games in Canada are really getting off to a great start. Why won't they stop? Please, Lord, why won't they stop? I guess watching a really, really gay guy dance with his sister on skates is a sight the first time or two. But we've seen all this and all the other winter sports too much. I say it's time the Winter Games take a breather, and come back in 100 years. We will, of course miss you, but the same thing just because it's done by different people isn't giving me the orgasms it used to.

What about a pay toilet competition? We could invite pay stall operators from all of the territories to come to Pee central here in Norfolk, where I'm proud to say we run the cleanest, cheapest, safest, mostest, hostess, locust, Shamus, bosomy, and warm too, toilets for men, women, hermaphrodites, gay, bi, trans, regular, people with irregular sexy organs, cab drivers, bakers, locksmiths, and the dead who still have urine or shit left in them (this is a service we do for the funeral homes in our sector).

What fun we'd all have! Why not give the regular athletes a rest, and lets have the real athletes, the people who can pee over fences, or take dumps in the river, or behind car doors where no one can see, take the torch on high, and have the first Pay Toilet International Olympics here in Norfolk, the most wonderful town in the world for those who urinate and do #2.

Please give it some thought. You can get back to me at pay stall #16, at the corner of Church and Nebraska Streets in downtown Norfolk. That's the one I run myself because its got a TV.

Joe

Winter Wonderland Of Washington

2010-02-10T13:31:00.000-08:00

Oh, our poor minders. With all that snow they can't get to work (except Bob Byrd, who sleeps there) and the government has shut down again, today making it a three day holiday so far. Almost like government work.

Yeah I know, these peoples work hard for their money and for the best interest of the citizens, but down here in Norfolk, where the temp today was in the twenties, I had a warm, fuzzy feeling, knowing the center of organized crime is blinking the "sorry we're closed sign". Gee.

The whole federal government has shut down, and yet somehow, who knows, perhaps only Lord Jesus, praise oh praise him, knows how we have managed to get along. I've got to make some "We're Still Here Obama" t-shirts to show the world we still be truckin' baby!

I woke up this morning early, about 4am, and the radio box said that Washington was a ghost town, everything was closed and locked tight.
I immediately counted my toes and fingers to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I also counted a couple of other things to make sure, which I won't reveal here on this family friendly website.

I heard today that the President couldn't even open the front door to get outside and pee in the snow and had to use the back door, which infuriated him and Michelle (can ladies do that?) The President and first lady had no choice but to kick back and watch cartoons with the kids, and then The Price Is Right" (the producers of the show are helping with the stimulus...so far they've given away a mink stole and a pay stall), and thereafter spent the afternoon watching Michelle's stories on TV. No press briefings, no early morning, indispensable review of the word situation with Rahm Emanual, no Joint Chiefs, no nothing baby. As Michelle might say "The World Still Turns".

Government types hate this. Where's the action when you can't be messing in the business of the citizens? After all, isn't what they sent them there for? To do the "people's business"? If I were a Democrat, I'd be so sick, I'd probably make a #2 in the snow. It would look kind of like Dick Nixon, I think, with the long turds for the nose and ears, and the wet one for the face.

What else the hell you gonna do in Washington when you can't get to work and fuck with me? Fuck your wife? Ha! The best you could hope for would be some hermaphrodite lobbyist to do him/her self, in the snow, using the Washington Monument for inspiration.

I never said things would be easy.

Joey

Super Bowl 44 One For The History Books!

2010-02-08T13:10:00.000-08:00

That is, the history books where we forget what happened by tomorrow. Ask some of the drunks, and public sexers in the Big Easy on Mardi Gras who won the big game on Sunday, and the best answer you'll get is that they'll vomit on you. Projectile vomiting, which comes from people who you cannot possible know what they have had in their mouths.

Gee whiz, I saw a video of Mardi Gras from about 10 years ago, and these people were, it seemed, doing a gay porn film, with incest and bestiality as the short subjects and cartoons. So when they vomit on you, wipe it off. You do not know where that persons mouth has been.

Now...who won the big game on Sunday? The New Orleans Saints, of course. I'm being silly, because New Orleans (although I've never been there) is a freaky town, full of hermaphrodites, extra gay folks, experts at projectile vomiting, football fans who will forget by tomorrow who won Sunday's big game, midgets, ladies with balls, cross dressers, cross dressers who are experts at projectile vomiting, Catholics, policemen who like to feel your peepee, and others who have by now, or soon will, forgotten who won yesterdays big game.

Who cares. New Orleans is party town, USA. Full of great music, gumbo (don't eat it though. The cook is a PV) great parades, men who look good in panties, and a wild, wild Tuesday, which ends at Midnight in church, where all gather to pray God to forgive their sins (except projectile vomiting, God don't play that) and steady themselves for Ash Wednesday.

And then comes Lent. For 44 days, until Easter, the people will have to give up something near and dear to them to show their reverence and piety. They want to be right with God.

Forget about the Projectile Vomiting, though. God's smashes you upside the head for that. He hates it. He hates that worse than the things you put IN your mouth in the first place.

Who won the big game on Sunday?

Joe Postove

Snow Days, Snow Days

2010-02-06T09:09:00.000-08:00

I walked outside about noon today with the prospect of another good snowin'. The weatherman says that those just to the north of us will get a couple of feet (I think it's already there) and the middle Atlantic states will get to stay home for a few days. I got a couple of feet down here in Norfolk too. But I left them in my shoes for warming.

Since Washington D.C. is up there, what a fine thing it is that our minders might have to stay home, frustrated with a C-Span camera looking around the congressional chambers with no action going on (ooo... is that Barney Frank and the San Francisco delegation spooning up in the rafters, like a couple of Phantoms of the Congress?). I hope they don't get stuck! How embarrassing! What will the people think? Where will they turn now, that the government can't get to work and blot out some more of the constitution? No one in Congress? Call for Mr. Jesus H!

Good old Maude and Bill looking at the tv in a coal town tavern in snowbound West Virginia might even get up off of their bar stools (which have their butt cheeks engraved) and go home and do IT (fucking). And they haven't done that since the coal mine closed in 1961.

Ever since they retired they have been drinking beer, eating potato chips (out of the bag!), smoking Luckies by the carton (they just light up the whole box), and watch the nation's business being conducted by Robert Byrd and a few hundred other out of work hustlers. Now, with all of this snow, the only one who will make it to work IS Byrd, and he's got a bill for "Snow Commemoration Day" and a plaque to be dedicated in some holler back home. Cost? A couple hundred million. Lunch in Washington. And why not? Byrd is keeping the whole thing warm, so that when the other babysitters come back they can get right to work.

Oh snow
Why everyday cannot we know
We get to stay home
Where we're safe from the law

Congress is home this weekend too
Away from their loved ones
Me and you

But laws
And bills
Can't be passed without a quorum
And our minders are home staying warm

And what money is left
Cannot be taken by taxes
Oh, sorry, I meant by theft

So snow
Stay awhile
And rest
Upon the fat men and women
Who break our legs
And pick our pockets
For today, poor things, they have nowhere to go

The republic is safe at least for a day
So snow, snow, and snow and snow!

Little Joey Postove

For Dear Anne

2010-02-04T15:34:00.001-08:00

My great and dear friend, Anne Friedman died just over a year ago.

I was not posting at the time, but now, I'd like to share a piece of my writing that was published by DreamSeeker Magazine shortly thereafter.

For Anne.

Joey

http://www.cascadiapublishinghouse.com/dsm/spring09/postjo.htm

Snow and Miss America

2010-02-01T09:08:00.000-08:00

They said it would snow about a foot starting Saturday morning, AND IT DID! We're not used to weather forecasters being right on the money here in Norfolk, but they came through this weekend and poured it on. Go team...GO!

But we got through it. I hurt my back last week, so I didn't try to clear anything, or help my neighbor lady with her snow. I just watched movies on my computer and sat in the corner eating chewed up cigarettes.

The big news of the weekend was that Miss Vagina was chosen the new Miss America! As you know, the pageant is now held in Las Vegas, so other than dildo sizing and racking the chips at the poker tables, the competition is pretty lousy.

They do have the girls make nice love to the judges (Limbaugh pigged out, I think. He had all the states, plus the territories and the District of Colombia, then went back, and work his way up to Alabama again!) I hope that fatty is happy. I also pray that his "involvement" with the girls didn't influence who he thought the prettiest charmer of them all was.

When Rush was offered the chance to judge the pageant, he made it a prerequisite that he have lovin' with all of the girls, twice if he wasn't sure, and then have a club sandwich, fries, cole slaw, and fudge cake delivered to his rooms after every pushy push. What a loser.

As a Vaginain, I, of course am very pleased to see our girl win. Her prize package will consist of living with Rush Limbaugh for a year (unless he kills her or over does the lovin'...then the girl who came in second would step up to the job...that was Miss Guam, who unfortunately has no teeth. Gee, I hope this doesn't give fatty any ideas!)

Also the winner gets a free steak at this place where if you finish a two pounder, you get everything free. A pie, two bras (sorry, one bra, two cups) a secret meeting with the Republican House Caucus, and Beverly Sills bones (once we dig them up).

I'd say the weekend was a success.

Lil' Joey

Look Towards Tomorrow

2010-01-29T13:45:00.000-08:00

The lady on the radio says it's going to snow tomorrow, so I'm going to shut the internet down tonight, and we'll see how bad it is in the morning. I've already decided to put my pay toilets on a two hour delay, except for essential personnel. My whore houses, gas stations, circumcision parlors and gravy boat stores will be closed.

I think in these times of mass desperation we should all look inward, towards the head and think of good things and bad, sick things and well, tall girls and short, and bald men with false teeth. In this way, and only in this way, can we see the world as it is....a world of phonies, jug heads, poop squatters, and change makers. We need to, as a people, to look to the south, about 10 miles. If we can see that far, we should go over there and see if we can see the 10 miles back.

What a great experience that would be!

Stay warm, and in the house tonight. And if nature calls, and you're not one of the lucky ones to own an outhouse, and because my pay stalls will be closed if we get a real heavy blanketing, please make good use of your Yoo-Hoo bottles, Big Gulp cups and shit slues out by the river.

We can be happy. Yes we can!

Lil' Joey

And Another Thing

2010-01-26T09:35:00.000-08:00

As noted in my last blog, now is the time for Republicans, libertarians, and those against state interference in medicine (I really mean MORE interference....we can see how Medicare and other state operated medicine is both bankrupt morally and fiscally) to string up the banner with NEW IDEAS for free market reform, indeed the separation of state and medicine altogether before the collectivists dust off their egos and get going again after our minds and bodies.

There must be at all levels of medicine the understanding that you, the patient, is the boss, and physicians of any kind are employees, to be used as we see fit, to be worked like the dogs they are (strike that...I might need a doctor one day) but most of all we must repeal all laws that interfere with the relationships we choose to have with these high priests of health. We, the people, must take control of our bodies, away from the state, and away from the medicine men.

Let's say you suffer from depression. In most circumstances, you must first make the decision as to what form of, if any, treatment you want. You recognize something is wrong, then you seek advice. From books, from websites, perhaps leading you to a practitioner of voodoo, or a psychologist, psychiatrist, perhaps a rabbi, or friend, or all or none of the above. That right, to choose how and where to get help has not yet been taken from you, but once you enter "the system" you are at the mercy of a medical monopoly that decides for you, from then on, how to treat you. You. You. That's you I'm talking about, and there is only one of them.

The system must be changed so that when we seek advice, we have the right, given by God, to control our bodies. That's the beginning.

The oligarchy of medicine will end when patients demand it and understand that they must understand enough not only to choose their healers, but to a great extent, understand their advice. And choose to accept it or not, and if not, travel the road that man has created, the medical trail, and either look elsewhere for help or medicate yourself.

There are plenty of arguments from the medical establishment against a free market in medicine. If I were a doctor, I might say that only we have the ability, knowledge, and understanding of the living being to make decisions of life and death. If you believe that, then you should use only MD's for advice. If you do not, then you should be free to consult with any other practitioner of healing, who should be free to treat you in any way acceptable to you. The only way that MD's can keep the monopoly they now have is by the use of the state, the use of force, that undermines your ownership of the self. Either you own you or the state does. Right now, it is the government.

Make your own decisions or consult a trusted advisor, who in a free market, will be able to treat you in any way you choose. Buy your medicine across any counter in any drugstore, or take the advice of a physician.

We're talking about your health now. Your health...Know it, understand it, and help to free us from the force of the state, that interposes itself between healthcare giver and receiver. It is a monopoly that keeps you in a slave state, where you and your health belong to our minders.

Joe Postove

I Just Might Open A Dairy!

2010-01-23T08:54:00.000-08:00

I realize that when men get excited they can exhibit their excitement in a variety of ways. Ladies normally cream in their pants when pushed over the brink by a good looking man, or Beatle Mania, Elvis, or even exciting news reports. Men are taught young not to cream when really really happy, but rather to plotz or for non-Jews, to remain stern and with proper ballast.

But I am weak. And with all of the wonderful political news this past week, I went beyond what a nice Jew boy should do. I creamed and I plotzed...and I think I may have had a little orgasmic jizz dance too! C'mon, ladies, it was a great week for liberty!

First, we elect a Republican in MASSACHUSETTS!

I believe it was on CNN, a little miniature Sammy Davis Junior (his reincarnation, no doubt) was tap dancing on the graves of the Kennedy Kingdom, as now we are finally through with that clan...the family, the politics, the sexcapades, the murders, the wife swapping, bootlegging, the sad old fat set of connivers.

God...I think we would have done better with a bunch of Nixon's.

Good old Massachusetts is still a pretty leftwing state (say compared to Nebraska, now) but we've wiped the stain of this family off the political scoreboard. And now down to business. We got number 41, in new senator Scott Brown. Health Care, as Our Dear Leader conceives of it is dead. It is, and I cannot stress this too much, now the responsibility of the Republicans and their libertarian contingent to spell out FREE MARKET health reform.

A couple of things to push them in the right direction. End the monopoly of doctors on medication. I am responsible for what I put in my body, and my doctor is my advisor, paid well, and he follows my lead, not me him. Why have we reduced well trained Pharmacists in this country to pill counters, when they, overall, know far more about meds than MD's? Because MD's have their egos up my ass, and have labored for more than a century to get this prescription syndicalism. It has to stop. This is just one area were the discussion must begin as how to free up medicine from the state.

Allow a complete free market in the insurance industry. These shameful captains of capitalism, who would throw the whole game to the left for more business, must be engaged in the marketplace, fully, just like the guy who sells cough medicine, or tooth paste. Oh... But NO regulations, you say?

Far from it, dude. The free market also brings around its own regulation, from consumers alone and in posses. A real, live, free market in the medical field would introduce us to free market regulation. Controlled not by the state, but by consumers, who would have a choice, outside of a government monopoly, to organize and regulate in an open and free market.

The supreme court and election spending. Oooooooo! That's for next time girls.

Have a nice weekend. And if you don't like what I have to say, please respond...or eat me. I'm dairy today.

Joe

41

2010-01-20T13:17:00.000-08:00

Last night, as I lay my little head on my best pillow, I was thinking of the possible Coup d'etat in Massachusetts. But I felt, that even with all of the polls (including the big and long ones) indicating a Republican victory, I fell into sleep thinking that this was just too much to ask for. A Republican sweeping into the seat of American royalty, and taking Teddy Kennedy's position after 47 years gave me such a wonderful feeling, full of political goosebumps, exciting me so much that I could barely get to sleep, couldn't be. It just couldn't. But it happened. IT HAPPENED!

The last big Republican tap dancer was Sammy Davis Junior. And while I wouldn't partake in such an activity, it would be so bad, I dreamed of Sammy tap dancing all over the private Kennedy crypt, and doing an entire show on poor Teddy's grave. And Sammy was great! He was energized! The American Royal Family had finally been sent packing (and they had lots of packing to do) as the people of Massachusetts, the only state to vote communist in 1972 (McGovern), THE Bluest of blue states, said to the Democrats what the rest of the nation is itching to say: ENOUGH!

It's not yet a sure thing, but after a year of terror by our Dear Leader and his gang pushing foremost, a takeover of the health care industry, plus so much spending to hoist us out of the depression (anyone been hoisted yet?) the people, the lovers of what liberty we have left got us #41, the votes we need to threaten or actually filibuster this death bill of President Obama's. We all thought we were dead already. That with their bullying tactics, and advantage in numbers, congress would pass, and Our Dear One would sign away, the health, wealth, and freedom that remains here, at home, in the USA. They just said no. No No No No No MORE!

I guess you can tell I'm stoked.

Imagine that! If one of the heftiest governments in America, the people of Massachusetts, who do like their socialism (as long as the cost is spread around nicely) can toss out a dynasty, and elect a real Republican, then the world is ours. We being the tea party, libertarians, and all those who realized that Mr. Obama was reaching for the stars and trying to bring back to life FDR, LBJ, and maybe a tincture of Marx, Engels, and Lenin.

There is joy and jubilation tonight. Not only in Massachusetts, but all along the land where individuals, who do NOT love the state and all it would like to do to them, are huddling together to toast the people of the state we all used to call Taxachusetts.

And may God bless the people of Massachusetts. Each and every one (who voted the right way, of course...we can't be too magnanimous). Kisses for the whole state, though.

And now...to retake America! Gee..I hope we can.

Joe Postove

Prayers

2010-01-19T13:01:00.000-08:00

The election in Massachusetts today to fill the seat held by the late Senator Kennedy promises to be a real brawl, with the chance (God willing) that the Republican candidate may upset the Democracy.

Now we shall bow our heads and pray. Because if the GOP can pick up this seat, and get back into the filibuster driver's seat, we may yet dodge this most dastardly of bullets, our Dear Leader's plan to kill the American people with socialized medicine.

Who woulda thought Massachusetts's election today would not only possibly help we, the good people, kill socialized docterin', but maybe put the question up for consideration, that Barack Obama is a bad president, much more leftist than we ever thought back in '08, when all we wanted to do was punish the Republicans by voting for him, or better yet for the Libertarian candidate.

The Republicans, I believe have been whipped enough, and perhaps now see the error of their ways. Perhaps we'll give them another chance to act like the party of smaller government, and not like junior Democrats, who think they too can ride this federal bull...all they need is the right people on the inside.

They made us cry. They disappointed us in so many ways, especially when they had all three branches of governing in their sweaty, clammy, politician hands (their still baby-kissers remember, we cannot trust them...at least to the max). But we are stuck folks. We have Democrat cowboys (and girls) all over Washington who want to turn this nation into a bunch of suicidal Swedes who cook French style, and make love like the hippies out in San Francisco do (I couldn't resist the Merle Haggard...thanks). And of course pass China as they make their way to the Statue of Liberty, and we float on over to the corpse of Marx.

So, we turn, once again to the Republicans for one more chance. There ain't no where else to go. My party, the Libertarian, while wild with the fever of liberty, hasn't got the strength, yet, to save us from the mob.

So, if the Republican candidate wins in Massachusetts today, and we have a cloture proof senate with 41 solid for liberty Republicans, maybe, just maybe, we're on the road to send these San Francisco haters of freedom back to where they came from...San Francisco.

Light a candle for freedom tonight, brothers and sisters. We may beat this one yet.

Then we begin the work of showing the American people that the way to "reform" the health care system in the USA is through the same free market that brings us newspapers, Churches, and goodies from around the world.

Lord have mercy on our souls.

Joe Postove

Department Of Bras

2010-01-14T13:29:00.000-08:00

The talk around town now is after the administration gets what it can from "health reform" and moves on to more progress for the American Peoples, the next big thing is the nationalization of the brassier industry.

Yep. I said it right. Then I wrote it right here on the blog (still All American and FREE!) That the Obama freaks want to get their hands on the bosom industry. The boobs. They want to stick their fingers in every American pie (well so would I, but my fingers have been privatized) and fix problems that do not exist.

OK. I'll admit the brassier industry is not perfect. Have you ever seen a perfect bosom? Well, I was downtown one night at one of my Pay toilets...but that's another story for another time. But the overwhelming number of tits in this country are somewhat off center (according to the USBI-U.S. Bra Institute) and one size neither fits the disgusting male number, any more than it fits the second most beautiful female one.

But the Democrats want to fix everything, and now come the boobs to fix the boobs. These people do not know how to leave good enough alone. The American female bosom has been noted by tit lovers the world over as the finest, most wonderful female gift to we little men. Gee...I used to think the ladies got pregnant through their milkies. I was very late in understanding common American sex. I was raised in the gutter. Which was across the street from a gas station when I was growing up.

Take your damn death care, Mr. Obama, but leave us men to our breasts! We need them so bad.And if the government should decide to nationalize the brassier business, please be kind.

I was just getting used to private boobies. I don't know what your new program will do to pervert them. If you could, a couple in the back would be a good first start.

Be kind to us sad men.

Joe Postove

Post Office Gomers

2010-01-12T13:52:00.000-08:00

I was the only one in the post office near one of my stops yesterday, but no one was at the counter, so I rang the the very convenient courtesy bell to call on one of the attendants.

"Just a minute", "just a minute" came out of an unknown voice somewhere behind the mail. I couldn't tell if it was female or male, but it was distinctly southern. Although I live in Norfolk Virginia (which is more of a Navy town than a southern one) in an apartment across the street from the gas station, we have lots of dialects here, so southern voices pipe up more in the ear box than they would further down south.

I rang the bell again after about a five minute wait staring at a poster of an Ayn Rand stamp (she would have blown this sucker up...in a book of course), waiting for the mail counter person. I rang the bell again. "Just a minute"..."just a minute". Then it occurred to me that the non-yet sexual id'ed person back behind the mail sounded like Gomer Pyle!

This is the same Gomer who got fired from Wally's gas station because he kept telling stories to drivers while and after pumping their gas, therefore keeping a long line of cars waiting for their turn.

"Just a minute"..."just a minute"! I knew that voice, and whether it was a gas station operator or a post office geek, I was thinking that Gomer did indeed see the future, and it was him.

The post office person eventually came out from behind the pile of mail. She was a woman, and she apologized for taking so long. She was reading a letter from her sister Babe who is nurse in Patterson New Jersey, and she had a new boyfriend. I listened to it all.

I thought I'd be funny and threaten to take my business elsewhere, but I knew what we all know, there is no elsewhere, and besides if I threaten a mail employee, I just know she would have filched my mail out of the pile and sent it to North Korea, where all funny people's letter's go. This is our government. I know better than to mess around. I thought about pissing into one of the slots on the way out, but they would probably get my DNA and c'mon to my house.

When our "Dear Leader" signs his "Death To Medicine" bill sometime soon ( It's coming unless our dear Jesus comes and saves us) all the good people will have upset stomachs. See that? A good Jew Boy like myself praying to Jesus, of all people, because I'm so sad and nervous about Dr. Obama's Medicine Show.

It will, of course, be "a good first step" as the President will proclaim on signing day (say...where could I get one of those pens?). He and his associates will be disappointed that they were not able to do all that they had promised, but "this my friends, is a good first step". To what? Single payer, real live socialised medicine for everyone; rich and poor, dead or alive, want it or not. I think we're dead, men.

So back to the post office and Gomer. Change the scene to your Doctor's (sorry...OUR doctor's office) and keep a ringin' that bell. "Doctor I think I'm having a stroke...doctor, I'm bleeding from the rectum, help me help me...I have broken neck, my knee bone ain't connected to my thigh bone no more...I need ya, I need ya"!

"Just a minute, just a minute". Doctor Pyle will get to you after he tells this really cool story to Jasper. And maybe this won't be so bad after awhile, anyhow. Or maybe it will.

The dead tell no tales.

A Beer?

2010-01-07T14:13:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's time for the American people to sit down with the President and have a beer. We could get together in the White House billiard room, have a few rounds, and maybe fix Mr. Obama up with some new ideas.

Well, I'm not gonna fish there. The President seems to think that once we seal the skies from the threat of terrorists, then we're doin' pretty good. Cozy, like Mr. Obama feels when he takes a whiz in the Presidential Urinal. That's tops. But back to work...Al Qaeda ( you try to spell it!) may be the worst evil doers on Earth, but they are not stupid. In fact, according to my records they come in ahead of most of congress and a couple of presidents. These guys are slick, and we guys are slow.

Do we, as a nation, really think that we are gonna get secure in the air by having the minimum wage guards at the airport gate get to see me unclothed? I don't even like to see me naked. You want a national emergency, get a good look...if you can! I ain't letting some gay Latino with a badge pursue my goodies for the sake of national security.

GD it! You know damn well that this whole thing is bogus. Is getting a bomb into a plane the ONLY way for our enemies to kill a lot of people at one time? C'mon, girls, the second largest act of terrorism on American soil was in Oklahoma City in 1995, committed by a veteran of the military, and he blew up the federal building there with fertilizer, turds, and some cereal coupons.

Only a simple boy would believe that once we secure our air space to the point that child porn lovers are going to be the main applicants for the security jobs, that then Al Qaeda will stick bombs up their collective ass to avoid the x-ray machine. Besides, by the time we get that up and working, they'll have some gay scientists teach us how to look up people cracks, and get a good long look. What a wretched world. Lord!

Trains, movies, football games, Time Square, buses, churches, gee whiz, how many examples do you need for me to show you just when and where the Muslim extremists can go and do major killing.

I can hear Osama Bin Laden saying to his lover right now "FUCK THE PLANES"!. And he would be right. The less bad stuff going up the asses into the planes of America, the more you ought to know that Al Qaeda has moved on. If we don't find it, it doesn't mean it's gone away.

They don't need no stinking planes to kill lots of Americans.

We do need a beer with the Prez to get his mind straight on this here thing.

God save us all.

Think hard.

Joe Postove

2010

2010-01-02T08:57:00.000-08:00

This is it, folks. A whole new decade is about to roar in. Are you ready? Those of us who believe what the American constitution says, and in the maximisation of liberty for individuals have our work cut out for us. If our hearts are not cut out first.

These are sad and trying days. But this is a time for individualists to work together to hold back the red tide of collectivism that our Dear Leader and his fellow travelers will bring to this nation, and we'll have to get our hands and hides dirty. Good and dirty. H. L. Mencken said "Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want and deserve to get it good and hard". Is this what we want? Is this the legacy we leave? Goddamn, I can barely believe we are at the threshold.

The talking heads of tubeland are saying that the health bill that will probably come out of Congress is a massive compromise and much less than DL (Dear leader) wanted to begin with.

Begin with are two important words. Because once even a little bill becomes a little law, the collectivists in government will proclaim their disappointment...but, however, then announce that this is a GOOD FIRST STEP! They are three words that have murdered the liberties of the citizenry for generations, so my friends, take these people seriously when they pop out of the White house after the bill signing (God forbid God forbid God forbid God forbid God forbid...fingers and toes crossed). If the Congress pushes out a bill that will force all to have health insurance, whether they want it or not, puts the insurance companies in the big vice grip that our minders have in their torture chamber (the floor of Congress...plus the insurance companies, like many Capitalists who will sell the rope that will hang them are pretty much going along) the first words out of our Dear Leader's lips will be (I guarantee you) "this is a good first step".

Fight the good fight, libertarians and conservatives who haven't forgotten liberty. We need, as citizens to not only beat this monster back, but put up the alternative of a free marketplace for medicine, where the patient rules his health, and doctors on down the food chain of medicine are our advisers and helpers, but never...NEVER our minders.

Unless you are prepared to put your very life into the hands of people like Nancy Pelosi, Henry Reid, and of course Barack Obama, then we have to cut off this politicalization of medicine at its knees (which isn't covered in the new plan anyhow) and propose ideas for a free market in medicine (the subject for another post).

If we can separate the state from religion, if T. Jefferson preferred a state of newspapers over a state of government, and thus today freedom of the press is as nearly as pure and universal in this country as mother's best, we must make the POSITIVE case for the separation of the state from medicine.

That would be a GOOD FIRST STEP towards a separation of the state from EVERYTHING!

Thanks, comrade, if you read all of that. It's the new year, and I wanted to start out with some muscle.

Joe Postove

Is It New Year's Yet?

2009-12-30T13:58:00.000-08:00

I'm getting damn tired of waiting for 2010. Every year at this time, all we do is sit and wait and look at the clock hoping that midnight comes and Guy Lombardo comes back to life (wouldn't that be smashing!?)

I've already wished many of you a Happy New Year (you others know who you are) so I won't figure eight that routine again tonight. Besides, I'm off from work at the work house tomorrow, and I should have time to come to this public computer (who knows where the hands of the person who used it before me have been...but we move along).

Now don't forget, the plan is to gather at the gas station across the street from my apartment about quarter til midnight to celebrate the big hoo-haw. I hope you bumpkins can stay awake that long. NO SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY, Sadie!

There will be an open bar at the Yoo-Hoo machine, which also carries Upper Ten, Nee-Hi Grape and Orange, Uncle Don's Spit Cola, and maybe one or two other drinks. All I know, whenever I get a drink there I put my dime in at the Yoo-Hoo slot, and chug it down. I ain't responsible for drunk driving, unless I'm at the wheel. Then, unless I can scoot over and make like you were driving, I'll take the rap. But I know the cops, and maybe I'll offer you up (you're a woman, right?) and we'll be free and on our way.

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Don't worry about anything. I'll probably be here tomorrow, and give you more info on the party plans. Until then, I'll be home asleep.

Love,

Joey

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!

2009-12-29T13:45:00.000-08:00

Friday is New Years Day, and I might not get to a public facility to post my most precious New Year's greetings to you and yours and the people who live with you, the bum at the 7/11, grandma, your ex-wife, and my Jews.

It is a different night, New Years Eve, than it was when my parents would get so goddamned dressed up, I thought maybe they were leaving home for good, maybe to make it in Vegas. My Mom would wear a beautiful sequin gown, having had her hair done that afternoon (wash, set, comb out, whatever else the girls do in the beauty parlor, and look like Elizabeth Taylor).

Dad, who was a locksmith and came home filthy most nights (Mom made him bathe before supper) because he worked 10 hours a day to make a living for a wife and four kids who spent money like he was old money. I mean we spent the money he earned in that little key shop like the gravy train would never end.

Back to New Year's Eve. The old man would put on his finest suit (he had THREE!), take a long bath, then a shower, put on some of that cologne Mom gave him for his last birthday, and when both were ready to leave, they looked like movie stars. I really want to say MF'n movie stars, but both parents are dead, and c'mon...respect, dudes!

And once the baby-sitter arrived, Ma and Pa Hollywood would kiss us goodnight, tell the girl we could stay up until midnight to watch the ball in Times Square, then it was off to bed. She was usually asleep before then (we had ugly baby-sitters who couldn't get a date) and my little sister and me would stay up past Midnight, watch Johnny, or even Guy Lombardo, and then drift off to near death, in case some madman came into the house. After all the stupid baby-sitter was asleep. We could have been killed every year, for pete's sake, Goddamn it!

I don't know what time the folks got home. Sometimes I would wake up a little, and hear them trying to make it up the stairs (Dad wasn't much of a drinker..or dancer, come to think of it. I wonder what the hell he did at the country club?). But Mom, would kick out the jams on New Year's, and I don't think she was ready for the new year until about the third of January. But she loved the holiday. And I miss it.

What do we do now that we're older than our folks were in their prime? Fall asleep about ten, masturbate to the radio (tv is broken) and pee in bed, just for old times sake.

We don't celebrate like they used too.

Happy New Year, my dear friends (and enemies..what the hell, it's New Year's!). Let's hope 2010 is a shorter year than 2009. This one was a stone M.....

See y'all in hell.

Joe Postove

Airplane Shenanigans

2009-12-28T13:09:00.000-08:00

We came pretty close to tragedy on Christmas Day when Hassan Barbara Fink nearly blew down a plane over Detroit. I used three names from our three major religions, so that you would understand that we have to be liberal at this time, and I forgot the guys name anyway.

Now, I ain't saying, but would a bomb blast in downtown Detroit have been page one? I mean how do you tell the newly bombed out sections from the old ones? I would't want anyone to get killed or even hurt, but maybe this guy could have done a public service by clearing more of Mo-Town for urban renewal.

I don't really want that. It was just a sick nightmare that I wrote here on the blog. Call a cop, if you think it'll help. Thank God everyone got down safely and that we caught the miscreant. He's in a federal pen now, awaiting indictment, which should come sometime this century.

Now the bigger question, and President Obama was right on top of it today in a news conference held at his hideaway at the Hawaii Motel 6. I didn't hear it, but I did hear the news capsule of it "more diligence, and lasers, and full body cavity searches, and blah de blah, more money and we're on top of it". And I think he was pissed that he wasn't on the plane to prevent it himself. That was the jist of it anyway.

Perhaps now the time has come for us to put away the childish things of youth, and get this wagon train rolling with some REAL national security. Ladies, we cannot afford to fuck around anymore. We need a total revision of airline and airport security, and I think my plan is the only one worth considering (unless you have a better one, then we'll take a look at that at next week's pick-nik for former homosexuals).

Flying will from now on become less a way to travel than a method to show your patriotism to our homeland. When you get to the airport, men and women will be divided into two sections (the groups, not the individuals, you simp). Once the sexes are in an enclosed place, they will be requested by our boys with machine guns to disrobe, put all of your stuff (panties, jockstaps, brassieres, neckties, balloon pants, and simple pantaloons, hats) and all other clothing into a garbage bag (don't forget your twist ties folks...the government is NOT responsible for twist ties) mark it with your magic marker, and toss it into the communal hole.

Then, you will be given a very comfortable airplane suit made of cotton and left over wool from last year's sheep shearing to wear during the flight.

DO NOT BE AFRAID! DO NOT BE AFRAID!

Although the suits will not have any kind of zippers or buttons (for #1 or #2) this is for your own protection. A madman could, at anytime, stick a bomb in his airplane suit, and then, if he had a zipper, could take it out mid-flight and wreck all our plans. If during the flight you need to go, then a trained nurse will take you to a bomb proof section of the plane, whereupon, you will be able to pee pee, or move your bowels as much as you want. Please don't forget your dime! Afterwards, a trained intern will, uh, clean you (we cannot allow you to put your hands where we can't see them, so that's why the intern will have to wipe you, in case it's a #2....#1's, unless you are a leaker require no further aid). Then you put your cool airplane threads back on, and enjoy the rest of the flight.

This is the future of air travel. It could be worse. Give me some time to think how, huh?

Joe Postove

MERRY CHRISTMAS

2009-12-23T13:38:00.000-08:00

We had our annual Christmas party at the auto warehouse where I now hang my head. We had the usual cheap eats like sub sandwiches, chili, potato salad, macaroni salad, chips, cake, cold drinks...you know, the kind of things that has gotten my sphincter muscles all excited. I'm posting this at the pinball machine at the bowling alley downtown, and even though I own the pay toilets here, I don't have my keys and I ain't got a dime. Man am I am roiling!

I may not be able to get to a public computer tomorrow to wish all of you and your families a mighty mighty Christmas, so I wanted to do it tonight before I go into seclusion with my brother Jews.

I'll probably spend Christmas the tradional way, alone, in my apartment (which is across the street from the gas station), with the shades drawn, and the lights out. We'un's don't think its a great idea to be out there too much on this, your holy day of Christ's birth, when we were the guys who offed him (or at least we told some other guys where he was). I'll probably get drunk and when evening comes go pis in some of the empty Salvation Army buckets (there's nothing wrong with that, by the way...they spend the money before Christmas anyhow, for your bums and such, so what's a little urine between religions?).

Sometimes I wish we Jews had a really good holiday like you guys. But what with your turkeys and hams and cranberry sauce, and stuffing, not to mention mashed potatos, corn on and off the cob, pies of all kinds, I well expect to do extra good business at my pay toilets in downtown Norfolk come Christmas afternoon.

Remember, we're at the corner of Church and Nebraska streets, right across from my Whorehouse (which will be closed for the holidays). Dime after dime will be flowing into my receptacle, and I will buy myself really nice for New Years (you should see the lines here then, with all of the drunks...I charge double AND get away with it!).

So go now and rest ye head on thy bed and wait for the day of saving grace that the birth of your savior meant to bring but had to go back to Heaven and pick up and bring back.

Two thousand years now Jesus.

Come back soon.

Lil' Joey Postove

A Jew Looks At Christmas

2009-12-21T13:02:00.000-08:00

It's that time again. Time to wish all of my Christian friends a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. And as a Jew, I never found this troubling. Sure I don't believe in Christ, and Santa disappointed me years ago AFTER I prayed to both Jesus and him to see if it might take.

Let's face it. Christmas is for Christians, and we Jews, no matter how nice we are about the whole thing, are ignored on Christmas Day. I see you Gentiles with your fancy new bikes and doll-babies, and X-Boxes, and all kinds of neat shit. Jews? Hannkkah? The only reason we have that dismal "winter festival" is because about 100 years ago, some liberal Jews thought that the Yid Kids needed something to do, while you guys gorged on Christmas hams, jellies, and all those dirty non-kosher foods you feed your babies.

I may be too harsh. Christmas is a loving season, in which you celebrate the birth of the savior (the messiah) and joyously proclaim to the world peace on earth, and goodwill to men. Then on the 26th the shooting begins again. If Jews ran the world (and we don't...believe it folks, we don't...if we did, do you think we would let you kick our ass time after time?) we would still allow the pagans to keep their Christmas, but all toys would be confiscated, to be given to poor Jewish boys and girls around the world (yeah there are some...we ain't all pawn brokers and lawyers) and the Pope would have to give back the Yarmica. We all know he stole it from a Bar-Mitzvah we invited him to back in '61. Plus all good looking Christian woman between the ages of 18 and 50 would have to dance naked on the alter at the nearest synagogue. These are our terms. there will be no negotiation.

In closing, since time is a gaining on us, may I, from my family to you and your's, wish you the merriest of Christmas' and happiest of New Years. Another year, anther Christmas. Santa will have to fly over millions of Jewish homes to get to all the Christian one's. But this is the religion we have chosen, so I let it go.

Lil' Joey

Hi There After All This Time

2009-12-12T08:27:00.001-08:00

I'll bet I lost all of my readers during my long layoff from blogging. I apologize to everyone.

I was watching tv at the gas station across the street from my apartment (the guys there are really nice, not Jewish though) and lost track of all time. That and monitoring my pay toilet chain in downtown Norfolk, and drinking Yoo-Hoo's left me more than distracted.

I also forgot my password. I wrote it down on a piece of paper that I intend to keep.

This coming year (2010) I hope to be back to libertarianism this and libertarianism that, especially with our Dear Leader dragging us down the road to socialism (there I said it!).

For now, I'll leave you with a Happy Hannukah and Merry Christmas, and promise that we'll see more of each other from now on.

Now, I gotta eat something. I only had yogurt and fruit for breakfast, so my stomach has a great need inside.

Amen.

Joe Postove