UNDERSTANDING

WOODSTOCK II

My best friend Mike had just picked up a brand new 1994 Corvette Convertible.  “You’re crazy to take it,” I told him.  “There’s gonna be a million people at the concert, the parking will be ridiculous and if it rains like it’s supposed to the entire place will be one big mud pit like back in 1969.”  Mike was easy going, nothing bothered him and he had made up his mind to take his new ride.  “We are not going to be seen up there in your piece of shit Delta 88.”  He was right, my 88’ was piece of excrement to the naked eye.  However, it was reliable and for a trip to the 25^th anniversary of Woodstock I thought it was the wiser mode of transportation.  Despite this he insisted on the Vette.  I originally determined it was because he was so excited to finally have the car that he couldn’t bare to part with it for three days.  But then I realized he thought it would be a magnet for women.  Ninety-nine percent of the reason he’d made the purchase in the first place was to compensate for his inability to get laid.  This was logic I couldn’t argue with.

Once we were on the open road I changed my tune completely.  His new whip was phat.  The metallic blue seemed to glow in the summer sun.  We flew past every vehicle on the road during the 202-mile trip up from Boston.  And when we crept through traffic the car incited the turning of so many heads we nicknamed her Whiplash.

 “Saugerties New York is the next town on the map,”  I said with a voice loud enough to project over the radio and rushing wind.  “We should get off here and expect to hit some traffic before we reach the event grounds.”  Following my instructions Mike took the exit to find the most spectacular winding roads; ones like you might see in a car commercial.  There he put the Vette through its paces, winding the engine in and out of gear around each turn.

Before long we began seeing cars parked on the side road and concertgoers traveling on foot.  “I want to see how close we can get before I stop.” Mike said as he kept driving at a moderate pace.  Up ahead the road took a sharp dogleg to the left.

My heartbeat began to pick up with looming anticipation.  Mike reached out and lowered the radio.  “Look at this,” He said head gesturing to young lady walking towards us on the left.  She was a stunning blonde with an hourglass figure reminiscent of Pamela Anderson. The red halter-top she wore barely did its job, and her jean shorts would have been hazardous even for Daisy Duke.

Feeling his oats Mike leaned on the horn and locked in on her visually.  Responding to his advance she shouted “PIG!” at the top of her lungs.   Mike was so shocked he turned to me with a face flushed red from embarrassment.

The impact that followed was violent; the airbag thrust me directly back in my bucket seat.  Uncertain what had happened I struggled to gather my wits.  Looking over and out the cracked windshield I could see it wasn’t a “pig” at all but more like a bore. 

 Sprawled lifeless in the road it was debatable whether he or the Vette had fared worse.  Turning to Mike, who looked about as bad as I felt, he said, “ You know my Dad was right, women are meant to be loved, not understood.”

Too bad it hadn't been a deer

LEAVE THE PIECE, BRING THE CHEERIOS

GUN HIDDEN IN CEREAL BOX
Metro Boston : Two Dorchester men were ordered held on $20,000 bail yesterday for their role in a Monday night shooting that injured two people in Codman Square.  Police arrested Michael Wiggins, 18, and Lamar Brison, 20, becasue they allegedly intimidated a witness and had a gun in a Cheerios box.

 I understand getting pinched on the intimidation  but how you catch a charge for keeping your gun with your Cheerios?  Imagine what it felt like when the cops picked up the box!  These two are the forerunners for Ask-Al's  "Crooks of the Year,"  tied with the kid who was "Mystified" when the Wellesely cops found a gun in his backpack.

TIME TO HEEL

I loved Las Vegas, but was no longer certain I loved my girlfriend.  Our postgraduate educational pursuits had caused us to drift apart.  Thoughts that we were together for the sake of convenience began pecking at my brain like a hatching chick. 

We spent last Thanksgiving with my family.   This year our plan was to visit her parents on the outskirts of Sin City.  Holidays can be depressing enough without dealing with relationship issues so we agreed to remain civil and discuss things after we got back to Boston.  Besides, did I tell you I loved Vegas?

In spite of the incessant arguing, we did love each other once.  The problem was fear lasts longer than love and I feared living with her much longer.  Spending a week with her parents, their cats, and a parrot that refused to stop singing the theme to I Dream of Genie was made palatable only by daydreaming of our first night in town, the one where we agreed to stay at the Palms Hotel and meet up with two of my good friends from home and their wives who’d moved to North Las Vegas.

Our plane was late getting in allowing us no time to unpack before rushing off to the MGM Grand.  By the skin of our teeth we met the other couples in time to make dinner and David Copperfield’s ten o’clock show.  Copperfield’s act was tremendous.  He showcased many spectacular illusions from sawing apart his assistant, a blonde beauty dressed in red, to making an elephant disappear before our eyes.  By midnight my girl was two yawns away from passing out.  It was perfect.

While making sure she was safe and secure back in our room, my friends sent their wives home in a cab.  We met up in the lobby and it was the three of us again, out on the town like the old days, only a much larger playing field. 

We drank, gambled and hit an after hours dance club back at the MGM.  By five in the morning I’d worked out most of my angst.   I knew it best to get a couple hours sleep before Thanksgiving dinner so I told the boys I’d summons the rented Mustang convertible from the valet while they visited the bathroom.

Approaching the entrance my sight adjusted in awe when a firecracker burst around and through the revolving doors: the blonde bombshell in red from the Copperfield act.  Unsteady on her feet, mascara running; her natural beauty could not be disguised, although the last five hours were clearly not kind.   “Are you alright?” I asked, “ No, I misplaced my car keys… backstage, in my dressing room, I don’t know, I don’t know,” she sobbed giving off an odor of alcohol that told me her absentmindedness may have saved her life.  “Can I offer you a ride?” I asked without the faintest idea where she was going.  In turn she threw her arms around me in an inebriated gesture of thanks, raising one ankle off the ground for good measure, just as my friends arrived to witness me playing hero.  

There was a time when these two would have stayed up with me for days.  Now neither wished to put their marriage in jeopardy.  Nor did they want to become co-defendants in whatever I was up to.  “Nothing’s going to happen,” I insisted out of earshot of the Copperfield’s assistant.  In return I received raised eyebrows and envious grins.  Gloating in their skepticism I left them at their car and headed off with my new friend.

There is no saying truer than: “the grass isn’t always greener.”  An hour with this nutty bitch and I couldn’t wait to get back to my girlfriend.  I’d needed something to shock me to my senses and in the time it the took to drive this fruitcake home the reality of how wonderful my girlfriend was came crashing back on me. What had I been thinking?  It’s rare to find her combination of inner and outer beauty, compassion and conscience.  Time and excessive work had weathered my perception.  This is my fault for not paying enough attention.  Our relationship was worth working for and I was willing to put forth the effort.  I held out hope she felt the same way.

Fortunately she was fast asleep when I returned.  Now as we drove towards her parent’s home I felt gitty with enthusiasm towards our relationship.  “Maybe we should think about moving out here?  Ben and Mark are doing well, it could be a fresh start for us.”  Quite and composed she applied her lipstick in the mirror, never acknowledging my banter.  I didn’t blame her.  After all, we’d agreed not to discuss our future on this trip.

It was a beautiful warm day.  With the top down sun beat on our faces and the wind blew back our hair.  When I reached for my ice coffee I saw “it” and almost swerved off the road. “What’s the matter!” shrieked my girl.  “My God – sorry - I almost spilt my coffee.”  My recovery was brilliant, still my heart thundered like homestretch at the Kentucky Derby.  “It,” was a red shoe wedged between her bucket seat and the center console.  I tried convincing myself that from the angle she was sitting it could not be seen.  There was no doubt if it were discovered I could kiss any hope of our reconciliation good-bye.

Concentrating on driving straight while stealing another glimpse without getting caught, a terrifying vision of that spiked heel protruding from by bloodied temple flashed before my sleep deprived mind.

unwedged the shoe without jarring her seat and flung it port side into the desert.

Immediately I experienced a rush of relief followed by a resurgence of paranoia.  What if she had seen?  Could that be why I was getting the silent treatment?   I’d learn the answer soon.  Her parent’s house was in the distance and if she suspected infidelity there was no way she wouldn’t address the issue before we entered.

Parking curbside I removed two suitcases from the trunk and made it clean up the front walk before she opened her door.  “Robert – wait –Robert!”  I felt the luggage turn to concrete in my grip; dropping to the steps at the same rate hope fell to the pit of my stomach.  Reluctantly reversing direction I inched back towards the car.  My girl’s body was bent in at an angle, with her posterior sticking out the open door, arched high in the air.  And with more upset than I’d ever heard in her voice she yelled over her shoulder: “Robert! “Damn it - I can’t find my other shoe!"

MY COUSIN JIMMY

A young telemarketer for Aids awareness realized that the organization had never received a donation from the town's most successful lawyer. The person in charge of contributions called him to persuade him to contribute.

"Our research shows that out of a yearly income of at least $500,000, you give not a penny to charity. Wouldn't you like to give back to the community in some way?"

The lawyer thought this over for a moment and replied, "First, did your research also show that my mother is dying after a long illness, and has medical bills that are several times her annual income?"

Embarrassed, the worker mumbled, "Um ... no."

The lawyer interrupts, "or that my brother, a disabled veteran, is blind and confined to a wheelchair?"

The contribution rep began to stammer an apology, but was interrupted again.

"or that my sister's husband died in a traffic accident," the lawyer's voice rising in indignation, "leaving her penniless with three children?!"

The humiliated representative, completely beaten, said simply, "I had no idea..."

On a roll, the lawyer cut her off once again, "So if I don't give any money to them, why should I give any to you?"

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

TWIN DILEMA

I could not have been happier.  I’d been dating a girl for over a year and we decided to tie the knot.  There was one thing worrying me however, her younger sister.  I say younger with a smile because there was a mere minute between them, you see my finance had an identical twin sister.  Their gorgeous blue eyes, blonde hair, full lips and taunt figures were equally stunning.  Naturally, I had no problem telling them apart.  Many outsiders did.

The twins were extremely close.  Most of there lives my future in laws dressed them alike. They attended the same schools, participated in extra-curricular activities, and went out socially together.   Until I came along my girl and her sister were practically inseparable.

Nevertheless, we were in love and nothing was going to stop us from being together.  Moreover, the sister and I got along smashingly, almost too much so.   From the beginning we had fun and there was flirting.  Yet, overtime I sensed something more.  Her laugh included extra exuberance, stares lingered, and incidental touches contained a spark.  I caught my self-daydreaming.  I’d find myself in a passionate fantasy where we’d both be undressing.  Did she feel the same?  I feared others could read my mind.

These, I realized, were natural feelings under the circumstances.  Thoughts any man in my position would experience and have to deal with together with a margin of guilt for being the man who came between them.

The closer the big day approached the more planning was necessary and my sister in law to be was a tremendous help.  She had called me one afternoon requesting I swing by after work to assist her pick out invitations.  I arrived at her apartment surprised to find we were alone.  Immediately she confessed she had lured me there because she could not stop thinking of me.  She was burning with desire and believed with all her heart that I felt the same way.  Never would she come between her sister and I but she could not go on without having me and wanted to do so now, before the marriage.  “Just this once,” she whispered running her fingers down my chest, “ it will forever be our secret.”

Shocked, with mouth agape, I turned spinning off without a word.  Practically flying, I headed out the door towards my car parked across the street but was haulted on the lawn by my fiancé and both our entire families. “ See," my mother boasted to the others, "my boy is no two timing cheat.”  My sweetheart took me in an embrace: “I never doubted you darling, this is the best Valentine’s Day present ever!   They put me up to it - you know - just to be sure.”  “Now lets go in for a drink to celebrate, “ her Dad said with a cheer.

Everyone headed on while my father pulled me back with one arm around my shoulder.  “What’s up Pop?” I asked with a grin. Then reading my mind as only true Capone blood could do. “That’s my boy, always keep the condoms in the glove box like I taught you.”

SNITCH LIST

http://realdealmafia.com/mobratlist.html

THE CLEANER (BIG MESS)

WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCED BETWEEN THIS

AND THIS?

THE ANSWER IS NOTHING SINCE IT WAS RECENTLY DISCOVERED THAT TOP SUMO WRESTLERS WERE FIXING THE OUTCOME OF THEIR MATCHES.  SO EVEN THOUGH THEY BOTH END UP HERE...

OR MAYBE HERE...

THE AMERICAN WRESTLERS GO EARLY 

BECAUSE OF THIS

AND THIS

WHILE THE SUMOS GET BODIED FOR CHEATING! 

YES, THE CRAZIEST PART OF THIS STORY IS THIS: 

Sumo Wrestlers Cheat:  

KYODO NEWS   

FRIDAY FEB 4, 2011

In a 1000-year-old tradition that focuses on honor such as sumo wrestling, cheating would seem to be an outrageous accusation. Two men separately came forward with accounts of cheating. Both mysteriously died on the same day in the same hospital with no investigation afterword. 

THE THING I WANT READERS TO TAKE AWAY FROM THIS IS: 1) THE OBVIOUS; DON'T TELL ON YOURSELVES.  AND 2) THEY DON'T MESS AROUND OVER IN JAPAN 
BECAUSE I DON'T EVEN THINK 

COULD MAKE 

 DISAPPEAR

EVEN WITH THESE GUYS HELP

PROHIBIDO

Mexican smugglers catapult pot over border

TUCSON, Jan. 27 (UPI) -- Mexican authorities say they seized about 45 pounds of marijuana in an operation in which smugglers used a catapult to fling the weed over the border.

The operation was discovered by a remote video surveillance system operated by National Guard troops at the Naco Border Patrol Station, KVOA-TV, Tuscon, reported.

What will they think of next?

Cause this ain't working

And this can get tricky

But this...

... Might just work!

MYSTIFIED

Student allegedly brought weapon to class                                                                                                 

By Brian R. Ballou

Globe Staff / February 5, 2011

Detectives allege the Tec-9 weapon was loaded with an 18-round magazine and a round in the chamber. Police say they were tipped off my someone who saw the gun.

Listen up this is not the mouthpiece you want on this case:

But in court today, defense attorney Larry Tipton said Dookhran believed he had become embroiled in a “gang fight’’ when police confronted him. Tipton also said that the weapon did not belong to Dookhran and that his client was mystified when police found the Tec-AB10 firearm in his backpack.

“The firearm was not his and he doesn’t know how it got into his backpack,’’ Tipton said. He also said that prosecutors did not provide “one reason, one motive, for my client to be carrying around a firearm on campus for so many days.’’

Mystified: He thought it was an ipad back there?  Mystified: he”s in Wellesely, and mistakes the cops for gang members? Either the undercovers are good west of I95 or the drugs are tremendous.  Remember My Friends:

+

=

HEll Yes They Serve Beer in Prison

DON'T FORGET TO VISIT

http://hellyestheyservebeerinprison.blogspot.com/

Snow Job

I thought the syphilis was a pain down their but all this snow - Jeez!

Shoot first, ask questions later.

As you know I just got out of prison.  So I'm wrestles and I meet this beautiful girl and after dinner we go to her place and are into the first minute of the heat of passion and I just have to ask her: "Baby are you Italian?"  And it that cute little accent she replies: "No, I'm Finnish."  ".... huh? and they say I am fast..."

Ball Buster

“Yesterday afternoon I was filling out paperwork at the halfway house, you know the regular garbage-waste of time stuff, when my counselor says: ” So your name is ‘Tamagini’ huh, is that Italian?” “Ya-ha.”  Idiot.  ”And your mother’s maiden name is Capone so I guess that makes you all Italian - can you say somthin in Italian?”  ”Yup.” “Really?  Go ahead.”  ”Get in trunk you mutt and stop breaking my cojones!”  He shut up after that.