Pwn3d.

People who write checks have too much time on their hands

Those of you who know me and probably some of you who don't really know me have come to realize that I get pissed off pretty easily. However, if there is one singular thing that completely makes me want to donkey punch someone in the line at the grocery store, it HAS to be people who persist in writing checks. Did you know that there is groundbreaking technology, developed by scientists and used by millions of people every day, that will allow you to take money out of your checking account without having to spend 15 minutes filling out a useless piece of paper? BEHOLD!

Hopefully, you've all heard of this. There is no longer a single excuse for writing a check in a retail store where you could complete your transaction in 1/1000th of the time it takes you to scrawl your John Hancock on a piece of paper with your favorite fucking Mary Englebright cartoons on it.

For one thing, you have to pay the bank to use checks. Yes, you can get free checks, but 99% of the people who annoy me in retail settings have the patriotic eagle checks or the kittens in soft focus checks or the serial killers of the Midwest checks. That means these ass fucks are purchasing these checks, which they KNOW will eventually waste their time. It's like paying someone to knock you down several times a day.

I am sure there are those of you who are concerned about identity theft. Checks MUST be a safer way to prevent identity theft. Anyone can use your Visa of Mastercard check card and buy billions of dollars worth of Mexican donkey porn. This argument is lame because someone can now do the same thing with a copy of a personal check. Also, have you ever heard of check washing? Nice try, wasters 'o my time.

I've also heard people say that they want to have a record of the transaction, but I guess these people never noticed that receipt thingy you get at the very end of any transaction you have anywhere. I'm surprised you don't get a receipt for taking a dump in a public restroom these days. NEXT.

The final and least defensible retort I have heard while heckling these two-toed sloth-like individuals is that writing checks is the way they've done it for so long, that they don't want to change. You know what I say to that crap? We used to ride horses everywhere, lynch black people, and routinely amputate limbs as medical treatment too, but you don't hear hordes of morons standing around in check-out lines saying "I'm just so used to burning black people in effigy, I just can't imagine doing things any other way." Adapt people!

Brett Favre needs to quit whining and retire already

Brett Favre is regarded by some, particularly those who live in Wisconsin, to be one of the greatest NFL Quarterbacks of all time. I suppose if your sister is the prettiest girl you've ever seen and your dad is the smartest guy you've ever met, I can see how someone could believe that. Otherwise, holding such an opinion puts you in the same category as all those people in Alabama who think NASCAR is a sport. You want an idea for an impossible scavenger hunt? Load up a group of friends and head for Lambeau Field in Green Bay or Taladega Raceway in Alabama and see who can find a person with a full set of teeth.

Lately, Favre has been Mr. Mysterious about whether or not he will retire. You see, getting paid millions of dollars to play football is really tough, particularly when in the previous year, you set career marks for interceptions and losses as Favre did last season. I can't imagine sports talk radio in Wisconsin has gotten off the topic since Favre's last game, January 1st in Green Bay. Those poor cheese chuggers won't know what to do if Favre retires.

What I am tired of is Favre acting like his decision about whether or not to come back and play next year is so damned critical in the grand scheme of things. Farve's obviously been listening to way too many of those Wisconsin talk radio programs and is having delusions about the value of what he does. Aside from setting off waves of domestic violence across Packerland every time he loses a game, what Farve decides to do as far as his career has a miniscule impact on the lives of the average American. Brett is acting like he has to decide whether to wake up tomorrow and cure cancer, when really whether he comes back and sucks or whether the Packers have a new quarterback that might suck a little more or a little less is pretty irrelevant to the grand scheme of things.

Someone should remind Favre that outside of Wisconsin, people have real problems. Millions of people don't have jobs at all. Do you think they care if Favre comes back to play football? I know if I didn't have a job, that would be about the last thing on my mind. How about all those soldiers in Iraq, fighting for their lives? They might be dead the next time Favre takes a snap, so something tells me that they couldn't give two shits if that old, Vicodin-addicted douchebag decides to come back to play another year.

Favre should be happy he's had the talent and the opportunity, and that he's not taking bullets in the ass for Bush over in Iraq or living in a shack, jobless, banging his sister, like so many generations of Favres before him.

Kung-Fu Mid-Life Crisis

I'm about to have another birthday very soon. Not a big deal. In fact, I'd rather people not mention it to me, cuz then I have to be all nice and say, "Thank you," and then they expect me to say it to them when they have theirs, as if we're part of some special club or something. We're not unique and individual snowflakes. Everyone has them. As for me, I'm about to have my 31st. After 25, when your car insurance gets cheaper, there really isn't another important one until 40. Some think 30 is a big one, and I can see why it could be, but personally, it was just another day. I was ready to be out of my 20's long before, because having an office job by 25 took a lot of the party lust out of me. Or maybe it was because I moved away from the Angry Midget. Ryan, if you're reading this, you owe me a new liver. Thanks to you, I lost mine in the tunnels underneath the University of Northern Colorado. And I don't want your liver, motherfucker. You're a doctor. Fine me one that hasn't been playing 'Whiskey Sponge.'

But all of that is neither here nor there. The reason I bring up age is because someone brought it up to me yesterday. First, some background. I studied a form of kung-fu called Wing Chun for about a year and a half, but my teacher was certified to teach both Wing Chun as well as an old form of Kali called Pekiti Tersia, and he decided to quit WC and focus on Pekiti. I felt abandoned, but I couldn't blame him for his decision. Martial arts is truly a journey, and his took him down a different path. Needless to say, other than a two-month try at a form of Praying Mantis, I've been out-of-practice for about two years now. But I've been feeling the internal itch once again, and a different itch from the one I get every few months or so.

So, I went to observe a Shaolin Long-Fist class this past Sunday morning. I've always been interested in the different Shaolin styles, and supposedly, Long Fist is great for tall people. I'm 6'3'' and lanky, so I thought it would be a good place to start. I e-mailed the master at a school not far from me, and asked if I could observe the 11:00 class, and he said, 'Absolutely. Wear a white t-shirt, loose pants, and comfortable shoes. First class is free.' So I showed up, and I see the master, and four children, all around ages 8-12. Yeah, the 11:00 class was a kid's class. That's not what the schedule on his website said, and he didn't mention that in his e-mail. So there's strike one.

Then, he talked to me for a few minutes during a break. 'How old are you?' I said, 'I'm about to be 31.' He paused. 'Ohhhhhh. Yeah. Shaolin style has a lot of jumping and fast movements in it. I don't usually teach anyone 40 or older, since the reaction times are slower, and the flexibility isn't what it used to be.' Puzzled, I repeated myself. 'I'm about to be 31.' He responded with, 'Yes, and you're not too old right now, but Shaolin is better to learn and practice when you're younger.'

He then proceeded to mention two other styles that are taught at his school. One is a lot like Wing Chun, and if I wanted to learn more Wing Chun, I have other places I could be going to learn it. I'm ready to try something different. I told him that long before he mentioned the similar alternative. The other style is Tai Chi. Now, if someone told me 'Hey man, Tai Chi is actually a good martial art. It can be used for relaxation and breathing control, and if you speed it up, it's a solid style that can hold its own with other forms of kung-fu,' then I'd have been a little more jazzed. But after telling me that I'm too old for Shaolin kung-fu, I took it as a bit of an insult. Granted, this guy was in his mid-50's, so it's not like he was being ageist, but I saw the people leaving the Tai Chi class before the Kid's Shaolin started, and the average age in there was late 40's.

When I turned 30, I didn't buy a Corvette, or jump out of an airplane, or start playing paintball. It was just another day. And yet, I didn't feel old until I walked out of that dojo. Was I really too old to practice a 'physical' martial art?









Fuck that guy. Just because I'm not going to become a grand-master of a style doesn't mean I shouldn't study it. I'm not trying to make a sequel to 'Hero' in my back yard; I just want to learn a martial art. If all he wants is a room full of children that he can play 'Catholic Priest' with, or to slap them upside the head and say things like 'Don't think! FEEL!', then he won't be getting my time or my money.

I'm gonna find someone who is willing to teach this not-even-middle-aged dog some new tricks. Stay tuned...

The Angry Midget Diet

Dr. Phil thinks you're too fat because you're crazy.

Nowadays, it seems like every jackass with a one hour syndicated TV show has a diet. Obesity is, after all, a huge problem, no pun intended. So there are fists full of dollars to be made promoting one's particular approach to shedding pounds. Dr. Phil realized this, and published his book The Ultimate Weight Solution: 7 Keys to Weight Loss Freedom When you consider how much this book is going to completely change your fucking life, the $9.75 price tag seems a paltry sum. Additionally, most programs take 12 steps, Dr. Phil is going to kick your lardy ass into shape in SEVEN. Take that Alcoholics Anonymous.

Before I get a flood of emails with "HOW DOES DR. PHIL FUCKING DO IT?" or "ONLY SEVEN STEPS?" in the subject line, let me lay this out for you, because it's so simple, even the 69% of 56 year-olds that are obese in this country could figure it out. Dr. Phil is not doing anything revolutionary here. If you've read The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Porn Stars or 50 Ways to Love Your Liver, you'll see this one coming a mile away. If not, welcome to the world of self-help.

Dr. Phil is not telling you only to eat carbs or not to eat any carbs at all. He's not telling you to lose weight by snorting coke off a hooker's ass (although you will lose a whole lot of weight if you attempt this). Dr. Phil's book addresses the PSYCHOLOGY behind weight loss. You know why South Beach didn't work for you, aside from the fact that you eat a tube of cookie dough before crying yourself to sleep at night? Fat people are crazy. They need psychological help. It's not as simple as eating and excercise, fat people are mentally ill, at least that's the premise of Dr. Phil's diet book.

As an aside, I personally think fat people are wonderful. Without the morbidly obese, there would be no Sumo wrestling, airplane seats would be much narrower, and Mister Bling and I would have been virgins until we were 25. God Bless you all!

Dr. Phil, however, views obesity as pathological, almost like an addiction. How does Dr. Phil know this? Probably because by current standards, standing at 6'4" and weighing in around 240 makes Dr. Phil overweight. Dr. Phil knows how you feel because he is also losing the battle of the bulge. I think rule numero uno of weight loss books is never follow the plan of the guy who is overweight. If this isn't the case, I think Tommy Lasorda and Meatloaf need to come out with diet books. Or Lemmy from Motorhead. Or Ted Nugent. Something tells me Ted's diet would involve meat.

I have a diet plan also, that I think you might enjoy. I don't think if you're overweight you're fat. I think you probably eat too much and don't excercise enough. So here's the deal:

1) There are no bad foods. - I totally stole this one from Weight Watchers, but what the hell. What you need to do is add chili to as many food items as you can. The resulting diarrhea and gastrointestinal swelling will prevent absorbtion of food, and you will lose lots of weight.

2) Drink at every meal. - Did you see Nicholas Cage in the movie, Leaving Las Vegas? That dude was in shape. I will grant you that he died at the end of the movie from drinking too much, but he got to shag Elizabeth Shue on the way, so in my book, that's a draw. We're all going to die, and unless you're on the Elvis Presley diet plan, drinking regularly will help to keep those pounds off.

3) Rent the Faces of Death movies - If you have not seen these movies and you want to lose weight, head to your locally-owned, independentm, mom and pop video store. Like Schindler's Fist or Can I Get Some Tube Steak, Mister Bling can explain why Blockbuster doesn't carry these titles. If you pop one in during dinner, you'll lose weight the same way high school cheerleaders do in half the time.

See how easy that would be?

Convention Survival 101

Some of you may have noticed that I didn't post anything for the last week. Mister Bling kept the fun rolling with several kick ass posts, as always. The rumors that I had diarrhea and couldn't leave the bathroom or that Leptodactylus and I were in Miami strangling prostitutes are not true at least that's what our lawyers told us to say.

For the last week, Leptodactylus and I were in Minneapolis for a convention which is where CowboyLaw lives. And we're happy to report that the city is still standing and any pregnant cheerleaders, even the entire squad that happened to be staying on the same floor of our hotel, would be purely coincidental. Seriously.

The convention Lepto and I attended is one of the largest in our industry. Manufacturers have huge parties with open bar to reward us for our loyalty and unethical behavior. Here are some wonderful tips that can help you to survive your next convention:

1) Don't attend ANY seminars/discussions/presentations- Attending these events takes time away from what you should be doing at a convention, which is drinking free hootch and sleeping it off. "Borrow" a fellow attendee's continuing education sheet, if you need to prove that you were there to your employer.

2) Watch out for Convention Cougars - You know these ladies. A good friend from Canada introduced me to the term "Cougar", as it refers to a woman over 35 who preys on younger men. Suburban soccer moms, bored to tears with driving their minivans in concentric circles around their gated communities 362 days a year. The other three days a year they're at conventions hitting the open bars just like the rest of us. As the night progresses, they get rascally, and there aren't enough tranquilizer guns in the neighboring counties to keep these ladies' hands to themselves. When they spot a midget, things can get very very ugly.

3) Play the Leptodactylus/Ryan the Angry Midget Convention Contest Game with Fellow Attendees - Here's how it works- most conventions require you to calculate the number hours of continuing education a person gets while attending, at least every one I've ever been to. To make sure that everyone, even that loser Diane in Accounting, is getting the most out of the convention, you institute the following scoring system in order to calculate the winner:
a) Take your total continuing education hours - (1.5 CEUs, just for example)
b) Divide that number by the average hours of sleep per night of the convention (3 hours, only an example, really)
c) Give 3 bonus points for each of the following-
-Each 8:00 am presentation/meeting attended
-If someone spontaneously reports that your breath smells like alcohol (another 3 points if this occurs before 10 am).
-Winning ANY award at the conference.
-Get arrested (Another 3 points if you don't get fired for it)

Whomever has the highest point total at the end of the convention gets a case of beer from all other participants. The game rewards people who not only go to courses and presentations, but also those who push themselves to the limits of human endurance.

Just as an aside, I was tired of getting posts in comments about how to make my cock get bigger or where I can access free porn starring the Golden Girls, so I turned on word verification to reduce comment spam. Sorry if this is hard for anyone.

Does God really speak through Pat Robertson?

I'm not a religious person. In fact, I'm what one would call a 'heathen.' You can believe whatever you want to believe, and that's fine, as long as I can believe what I want to believe. So what do I believe?

I believe that Pat Robertson is fucking insane.

Asking a woman about her sex life cured her asthma? Like Tom Cruise, apparently Pat Robertson knows the history of psychiatry.

If the media is so liberal, why do they keep talking to this dipshit? For the unintentional laughs? True enough, the man has provided some of the most absurd quotes in the history of the English language. They'd be funny, except that there are actually people who watch The 700 Club for reasons other than comedic value. There are those who believe that God speaks through Herr Robertson. Yes, this is the world we live in. According to Pat, God has had some major revelations over the years.



He doesn't think there's anything in the Constitution about the separation of church and state. Maybe he doesn't count the amendments. That's too bad, cuz I kinda like that first one.

He calls for the assassination of political leaders. Apparently, Venezuela is a hotbed of Communist sympathizers and Muslim extremists. The last time the surveillance experts checked, their government is a federal republic, and 96% of their population are Roman Catholic. Oh, and there's that whole 'Thou Shall Not Kill' thing. You'd think God would stick to his own commandments. Or are they like the Constitutional amendments?

He says that Spongebob Squarepants is gay, but where was God all those times when Bugs Bunny dressed in drag, or when he tried to marry Elmer Fudd? They've been re-running those cartoons for decades now.



He says that Tinky-Winky from the Teletubbies is gay, but ...



Okay, he can have that one. The target demographic for the Teletubbies doesn't even know the clinical term for the pee-pee, let alone where God wants them to put it, but I digress.

So I guess God cares a LOT about 'buttsecks.' I'd like him/her/it to start paying attention to some more pertinent issues. Darfur, for instance. How about the countless lives lost over a piece of holy land? Or maybe even Iraq? These problems were created by man, but man seems ill-equipped to solve them. If God really loved all creatures on the Earth, you'd think he'd start working on some of the Earth's biggest problems. Aren't we due for some divine intervention? Maybe God needs to stop competing with the current U.S. President on who can take more vacation time. Or are we all doomed to lie in the bed that our leaders continue to shit in?

Uh-oh.

I don't think the 'But Clinton got a blow-job!' defense is gonna work with this one.

Video Game Rage (aka The Fine Art of Controller Abuse)

Hi, my name is Mister Bling, and I'm a 'thrower.' I'm in recovery, and have gone almost a full year without throwing a controller. Well, there was a recent incident when I 'intentionally dropped' my Guitar Hero controller, but that was not a malicious 'throw.' So I'm saying technically, I've had one relapse. Before that, I'd had a streak of four or five years, but I played God of War last summer, and spent almost an hour trying to get past the spinning blade columns in Hades. Got to where I could see the top of the second cliff, and then fell all the way down. Five seconds later, my cats scattered out of the bedroom as pieces of black Sony plastic flew in twenty different directions. I screamed to the heavens, "GODDAMN YOU, DAVID JAFFE! RIDE THOSE SPINNAS UP YOUR ASS!" After coming to my senses, I finished the game, and even found the strength to defeat all ten Challenges of the Gods. And WOW, was the last one tough. Took me about three hours. I know how long it took, because I taped it. But I did not throw again after that. I screamed until I'd almost lost my voice, but no throwing.

Before that, the last time I 'threw' was after college, and I was playing Gameday 98 on the PS1. Last game of the season. I was the Broncos, playing the Oilers. Undefeated season so far, 15-0. Then as time expires, Warren "Wife-Beater" Moon airs out an 80-yard load of bullshit and connects to a WR who was triple-covered in the end zone. Other than no cats to scurry away from the debris, the results were similar. I remember when I moved out of that house, and found the triangle button.

Then there was Street Fighter II Turbo:


Yup, the guy on the right was me. I think there is still a controller-sized hole in the wall at my dad's house. Fortunately, SNES controllers were about as sturdy as the NES ones. They made more 'rattling' noise after a couple of throws, as the internal plastic casing seemed to break apart easier, but I never had a button pop out, and I still own my two original SNES controllers, and they still work fine.

But one of my favorite controller abuse stories came from a roommate right after college. He had the day off of work, and I had my old NES set up in the living room (we used to make Arch Rivals and Track & Field into video drinking games). He spent the whole day playing Rygar. When I came home from work that night, he was in his room, and the TV was off, so I'd assumed that he beat it. Jealous of all the quality gaming time I'd missed, I decided to play a little. When I picked up the controller, I noticed that there were small indentations on a corner of it. Upon further examination, I saw that they were in the shape of a semi-circle. Then I flipped it over, and saw the same thing on the opposite corner. I yelled out, "HEY! What the hell are these marks on the controller?!?" He came out of his room and said guiltily, "Uhhh, yeah. Those are teeth marks. I hate that FUCKING clowd castle level."

Some are throwers. That day, I learned that others are biters.

Laura Bush is at my work today

When I arrived at work this morning, after a weekend of yard work and the Rollergirls marathon on A&E, there was an email in my inbox with the subject line: Laura Bush visit. I opened the message, purely because I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get shot by the Secret Service while driving through the parking lot in my car with the Bush Cheats 2000 sticker on the back. The facility where I work serves children, so it's quite a good photo op for the first lady or anyone looking for an opporuntity to appear as though they care about the nation's children.

The part of the email that made me laugh was the following:

Due to security restrictions, we have been informed that only 50 employees from ****** may attend today’s event with First Lady Laura Bush at *******.

Therefore, if you would like to attend today’s event and your manager has approved your absence, please email (slave to upper management) and submit your name to her. She will then compile a list of names according to the time she receives your email. Given the limited number of spaces available, we are sorry that we cannot guarantee that all who request will be able to attend. Everyone must be seated by 3:30 pm and must present their ID for admission.

I am sure you're all waiting for the funny part, but let me give you some background that may assist you in finding the humor in this. Despite the fact that I live in one of the reddest of the Red States (Nebraska), my place of employment is decidedly blue. I think you would be more likely to find 50 people who work here on the FBI watchlist, than 50 people who would want to see Laura Bush talk, even if the subject matter was limited to "What my daughters do in the shower." I am trying to get an answer as to how many people actually responded to the email without trying to seem like a security threat, and if I find out I will post it here. The over/under at this point is 24.

I must say that I do respect Laura Bush a little bit more than I respect her husband. Laura was apparently a teacher, which in my opinion, is the most underappreciated job in the world. It didn't positively affect her husband's ability to form a sound education policy, but at least it's possible that she's done some good in her life. She also had to put up with that Cowboy Asshole that we call George during "The Tequila Years" (officially 1977 - 2000) before he found Jesus.

Unfortunately, I have more important things to do at 3:30 today, like write on this website and throw darts at coworkers, or I would be available to hear Laura talk about whatever she's going to talk about. We'll see if it makes the 6:00 news.

Who Says You're Too Old to Go to the Prom???

If you live in Omaha, Nebraska, you're never too old to go to prom...not if it's the annual Groundhog Prom, that is. I know, I know, you're all furrowing your brows in puzzlement.

"The Groundhog Prom? What the hell is that? Some kind of heartland hoedown or something" Any east- or west-coasters are especially thinking that. Don't lie.

Well, let me educate you, if you aren't already hip to the Knights of the Groundhog and their annual soiree (that's French for "late night shindig"). First, you're all aware of what a debutante ball is, right? That's one of those fancy dances put on by Wealthy, High-society, Influential, Tight-assed, Elitist (W.H.I.T.E) people in large communities to show off their daughters and announce to the world that they were ready for politically advantagous marriages to W.H.I.T.E. boys.

Seems like these days, organizations that have these balls like to attach things like philanthropy or civic responsibility to their missions as a smokescreen to cover up what is really going on--and don't get me wrong, some of them really raise money that goes to noble causes--but I think it's still just a case of "a rose by any other name".

Here in Nebraska, it was 1895 when the Knights of Ak-sar-ben (that's Nebraska spelled backwards, if you hadn't figured it out) were formed with the goal of "building a more prosperous Heartland..." A fine cause, if I begrudgingly admit so myself. Well, the Knights also began a tradition of an annual Coronation Ball (read debutante ball) to formally introduce their daughters to society, and, if you were good at math in high school, you'll realize that they've had 107 of the darn things now.

"But what," you're asking, "has this got to do with this goofy Groundhog Prom thing? This Lepto-whatever guy sure is verbose!"

I'm getting to that. Just hold your horses. As the story goes, about 25 years or so ago, a group of social workers and other left wing types decided to hold a small dance as sort of a little satire to the Ak-sar-ben Coronation Ball, which they had bemusedly watched for years and never had the connections to get an invitation (or something like that). Rumor also has it that some of them were geeks who never got to go to their own high school proms, either, but that's probably just some right-wing propaganda. These prom pioneers held their get together in one of the nastiest months in the mid-west, which happened to also contain groundhog day. Thus were born the Knights of the Groundhog. The first few years, the prom was a simple affair with a few score people wearing tacky bridesmaid's dresses or other goofy outfit probably intended to satirize (read "poke fun at") the Coronation Ball. As simple ideas sometimes do, however, the Groundhog Prom eventually took on a life of it's own. Word of the event spread--don't ask me how--and the number of attendees continued to grow. The Prom outgrew one venue after the next. But even more amazing than the size of the event was the flavor. Yes, the Groundhog Prom somehow mutated into some wierd combination of Mardi Gras and Halloween where the wilder, more shocking, or more clever the costume, the better. In fact, the Queen is traditionally chosen from amongst those with the most bizarre (or most revealing) getup.

I began attending "The Prom" in 1996, and I just recently made an appearance at the most recent, my 8th. If you've never been, you really must put it on your list of things to do before you die. I will warn you that the crowd tends to have liberal political leanings (or at least a liberal amount of them do), but with the spirit of camaraderie present, there is a sense of everyone present being "of one people". Although fatigue prevented me from shutting the event down this year, I daresay that this prom was probably like those of the past, where "a good time was had by all". The pictures attached to this posting are actual photos taken of the event. I'm not kidding. So, next year, as Groundhog Day starts to roll around, let your mind run wild about how you'd like to dress up and go cut a rug with the Knights of the Groundhog and their freaky followers.

Legislative Aides are Giant Douchebags (The Angry Midget Returns from Washington DC)

The trip to Washington, DC was great. I stayed in a great hotel and the weather wasn't too terrible. The downside was meetings from dawn until night each day and my trip to Capitol Hill to visit my Congressmen on Friday. I met with three different Legislative Aides (LA), two for Republicans (Hagel and Terry) and one for a Democrat (Nelson). I made some observations that I think will be helpful if you should decide to make similar efforts.

1) LAs egos are inversely proportional to how intelligent they are- One of the minimum requirements to be an LA has to be a test where they put you in a room with a puppy for 30 minutes. Congressmen must only hire people who at some point during that 30 minutes kicked the puppy across the room. If you think Congressmen are scary, try to have a conversation about IDEA funding with a 23 year-old kid whose single accomplishment in life is having parents who are campaign donors and a full set of adult teeth. The great thing about being in that position is that these jackasses have absolutely no perspective on the greater world around them, yet they are responsible for summarizing the information you provide to your Congressmen.

2) Ever wonder what happened to your high school debate team? - Probably not. But, one of two possibilities, they are either huge stars in the porn industry (like CowboyLaw and myself) or they are an LA for your Congressmen.

3) Want a glimpse of what the future of congress will be, call your LA: Not surprsingly, most of these ding dongs have aspirations that include running for public office at some point. These guys are just as WASPy as the rest of my state, which is frightening. If Congress doesn't work out, there's always opportunity for these individuals as hair sweeper at Great Clips, which has thousands of locations for potential employment.

All in all, it was a productive trip.

The Angry Midget Goes to Washington

You all know by now how much I love politics. So you can imagine that I am very pleased to be heading to our nation's capital tomorrow to meet with Nebraska Congressional Delegation (All Republicans except Ben Nelson, who is a fake Democrat). Part of my job is lobbying for causes related to what I do for a living, and over the next few days, I get a chance to stick it to the man. One of the downsides of this being a job related trip is that I can't let my personal politics run the show, but fortunately, it's not like I work for an oil company and what I'm doing is completely counter to everything that I believe. I will send an update to let you all know how things go, and hopefully there won't be any major events while I am there.

During one of my previous trips to Washington, a guy named Timothy McVeigh exploded the Federal Building in Oklahoma City. At the time, they weren't sure if it was an Islamic terrorist group or part of some larger terrorist plot, so the entire city shut down, and I didn't get a chance to do much of anything while I was there. Remember, back when crazy conservatives like Eric Rudolf and Timothy McVeigh used to be the source of domestic terrorism? Those were the good old days.

At any rate, have a great weekend, enjoy the NCAA Sweet 16, and watch for updates from DC.

Snow Day!

What's 17 inches and white? The pile of snow that's supposed to be accumulating in my backyard by tomorrow morning, you dirty-minded bastards. Omaha is about to get slammed with some pretty substantial snowfall. Check this out. When the radar map looks as white as Robert Downey Jr.'s coffee table, you know you're in for it.

Mister Bling wrote a few months ago about people in Dallas freaking out about and ice storm. After this weekend, I can tell you that people in Omaha are no more equipped to handle the threat of "severe" weather. The news showed people stocking up on food at local stores, as if somehow one of the undocumented side effects of snowfall is uncontrollable hunger. All one has to do is look at the 5 day outlook, and you realize that by Thursday, temperatures will be in the 50s. I hope people don't starve because of the snow storm.

What's worse is that people drive like blind morons. If I see another Jeep Cherokee or Ford Explorer fly by me, only to end up stuck in the median, I might have to start a seperate website just for those pictures. The only thing having an SUV will do for you is increase the likelihood of global warming and decrease the availability of fossil fuels for the rest of us. Your 2-ton symbol of our dependence on the Middle East for oil is no more safe on snow and ice than a semi-truck full of explosives running into a fireworks stand near a nuclear power plant.

And for what? We'll probably end up getting just over 8" of snow, and it will all be gone in two days because it's March, and snow doesn't hang around in March. If I'm wrong, great, but I still have a 50% chance of being more accurate than the local weather people.

Happy St. Patrick's Day from The Angry Midget

Angry Midget wedding pics or St. Patrick's Day Celebration

It's that time of year again. Time for what The Onion refers to as the Reinforcing O' the Stereotypes. So dust off your bagpipes, get out your penny whistle, and get ready to get so wasted that you would beat up your own grandma.

I was reading something this morning from some pretentious blogger who was saying that St. Patrick's Day is a holiday for the REAL Irish people. I hate assholes like that. This is a holiday for anyone with a mouth and a functioning liver, and to be honest, I'm not sure you even need the second one, although it greatly improves a person's chances of survival on this great day. I don't care if you're Polynesian, Chilean, Sudanese, or Argentinian get your ass out there and drink some green beers!

St. Patrick's Day embodies what is severely lacking in other holidays. Most of us work really hard at our jobs, day in and day out, slaving for the "man". We need more holidays where people can rent a bus to drive them around to various drinking establishments, drink excessively, and celebrate as a community, regardless of religion, race, sexual preferences, or political party affiliations. If we had about 52 more holidays a year like this, we would be going to war, because no one would want to miss out on the great party that was coming up the next week. We'll call this new holiday Saturday.

Unfortunately, having a community drunk fest every Saturday does have it's drawbacks, including liver and/or kidney failure, loss of spouse, frequent urination, morning episodes of dry mouth, skanks in bed syndrome (for you singletons out there), loss of car keys, loss in income to the Taco Bell drive-through, and memory loss.

Whatever you find yourself doing today in celebration, be safe, rent a bus or hire a cab, and may the luck of the Irish be with you every day!

A Cleveland Steamer for Insurance Companies

Check yesterday's post to see what a Cleveland Steamer is, if this is not yet clear to you.

Health care in the US is like a drunk, schizophrenic uncle. You don't want people to know how bad things are, let alone that you're somehow related. But like 10 million children without adequate health insurance, drunk, mentally unstable relatives are hard to hide, particularly when the US is always waving the flag and bragging about what a damn good country we are.

I think the US is great, don't get me wrong. But as CowboyLaw has pointed out so eloquently before, it's very important to have a mature and realistic patriotism which takes into account the good and bad of American goverment, as opposed to the Lee Greenwood-esque, real patriots don't question the President-style of patriotism that seems to pervade the right-wing these days. One of the biggest challenges we face is that we do a piss poor job of caring for the children in this country.

For a country that has the wealth and resources of the US, we have no excuse for our half-assed approach to insuring children. I personally feel that everyone should have access to basic health care, but even the most psychotic conservative would agree that children, who can't get jobs or pick who their parents are, should have access to care. When Howard Dean suggested universal healthcare for children during the 2004 Presidential Campaign, he was maligned and called a Socialist.

Critics of universal health care use Canada as the example of why government health insurance won't work. They cite substandard care and long waits for services that characterize the Canadian system. The problem with the US making those kind of statements is that it's like Charlie Sheen calling someone a sex-crazed coke-head: hypocritical. People don't have to wait for care or worry about the quality of care in the US, because a good portion of our population gets no care at all or gets substandard care because they can't afford it.

So before you start singing "And I'd gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today," you might want to take a deep breath and decide how truly proud you are that we can't get our shit together on health care. The costs to cover only the children in this country per year would be about $5 billion. That's what we're spending every three weeks in Iraq alone. And things just keep getting better in Iraq every single day. Money well spent.

Aside from the fact that people have to hold bake sales and spagetti dinners to pay for chemotherapy for their 8 year-old, the fact that people don't have adequate care means that people who do have insurance have to pay more for care since hospitals are forced to shift costs to those who can afford to pay, just to keep their doors open. Having worked for a number of hospitals, both private and not-for-profit, I can attest that most hospitals operate deep in the red and absorb significant costs for patients either not covered or with inadequate coverage.

I can already see the email someone is typing to me: Ryan, all you do is complain! Do you have any solutions to this problem? Actually, for once I do have a solution. Every American gets access to basic health care services like primary care, immunizations, prescriptions etc. Kids get everything paid for until they're 18 years old, and yes, Pope Benedict, even birth control. If you are an adult and want more than just the basic level of care, you purchase a supplemental policy from a private insurance company. This allows the government to purchase drugs in bulk, like the VA does currently, and cuts costs significantly.

Another thing - if you decide to smoke cigarettes, you are not eligible for basic government health care. People can smoke all they want, but you should forfeit your rights to government health care if you choose to smoke, because I don't want to pay for your habit, any more than you would want to pay for my liver transplant because I favor single malt scotch.

This plan works because private insurance companies can still provide supplemental policies, but the government handles all the high-volume services and prescriptions, which should make the insurance industry that much more profitable. Insurance companies are filthy rich, kids are healthy, we all win.

The problem? This will never happen. The insurance industry profits immensely from the current situation. They want to blame doctors or lawyers or patients who abuse the system, but the fact of the matter is that the private insurance lobby in Washington has ridiculous amounts of money, and will destroy any piece of legislation that might cut into their multi-million dollar profits before it even gets out of committee.

Eventually, things will have to change. Until then, eat lots of fruits and vegetables and don't let anyone talk you into doing something they read about in the Urban Encyclopedia.

Define your world.

Don't you hate it when you hear a phrase or an abbreviation, and you don't know what it means? I know I did, until someone showed me Urban Dictionary. No matter how vulgar, hateful, or just plain nasty, it's on there. Now you don't have to sit through that scene in The 40-Year-Old Virgin and wonder what an 'alligator fuckhouse' is, because someone who knew posted a definition.

Here are a few of my recent favorites:

frosty penguin

Walmart pussy

sack inch

cherry danish

Viper piss

McDiddler

Cleveland Steamer

The Angry Midget knows about this one:
Three-legged surprise

And my personal favorite:
Michael J Foxing

Surf the site, and post some of your favorites in the Comments section! Because like drunk sorority women, some things in life are meant to be shared.

All you need is Blogs

I was searching for a job as a pirate the other day, and by entering pluder into a search engine, I found this blog. Essentially, it's a blog that offers investment advice from a woman in Los Angeles. Now, we're all intimately aware of blogs where people share their misguided opinions, dreams, and sexual fantasies (last one probably NSFW, unless you work for the VA or something).

Let me start by saying that I am hardly Warren Buffett. Despite the fact that we're white and both reside in Omaha, NE, the similarities end there. I am short and intoxicated. He is wise and wealthy. Even though I am not Warren Buffett, I can tell you that I would not take investment advice from someone's blog. I'm still on the fence about whether or not I would take someone's advice about where to eat from a blog, let alone what to do with my retirement. It doesn't help my confidence that this person has only posted three times, one of which includes a disclaimer that essentially amounts to "Don't sue me if you lose all your money following my advice." If you would buy into investment advice from a blog, CowboyLaw and I have some land for sale south of New Orleans. Real cheap.

This got me thinking about what sorts of blogs are out there. Here's one from a guy with no self-esteem who really likes Jesus a whole lot (for those of you who miss the old site, you could start going here to get all nostalgic). There are blogs for right-wing pirates, gay christians, and even Israeli animal rights activists. There's truly something for everyone.

Here are some of my favorites that I found:
Gaytona - a website for Gay NASCAR fans
The Wikipedia entry for NAMBLA (North American Man Boy Love Association)
The National Black Republican Association
The Pope Benedict XVI Fan Club
Hate Mail to the Author of a website called People Eating Tasty Animals

If you find some other great ones, put 'em in the comments.

Hate Mail - O- Rama!

When I started writing here over a year ago, it seemed like a got a fair amount of email from individuals who didn't agree with my opinions on things. Anymore, it's a rare occasion that I get anything that isn't either spam from someone else telling me to check out their blog or involving penis enlargment options. Therefore, I don't check ryantheangrymidget@hotmail.com nearly as often as I used to. When I did check the my email this week, however, I got a TREAT of an message from someone who definitely doesn't share my views or those of my co-conspirators on this website. You might want to put the kids to bed before you read this one out loud ( I didn't correct the grammatical or punctuation errors):

Ryan (Asshole),
I stumbled across your blog by hitting the Next Blog button on the toolbar at the top of the screen. I've never been more sorry about doing something in all my life. I can tell that you and your friends think you're a bunch of comedians. You think you're so damned smart and enlightened with how you criticize conservatives or Oprah or whatever is pissing you off.

The fact is that you and your posse are all going to rot in hell. You're commentary shows how little you know about life and about politics and how things work in the world. When you criticize the Presdient, you put yourselves in the same category as those ragheads that killed thousands at the World Trade Center. We need to be a united front against terrorists, and people like you only seek to divide our country with lies and liberal bullshit.

If I passed you burning by the side of the road, I wouldn't piss on you to put it out. While people like you kill unborn children by supporting abortion and terrorists, you should realize that real Amercans support President Bush and the troops and don't just spread lies. You should get your friends together and go to church. You might learn a thing or two.

Stop spreading hate and lies on your website. You will pay for your sins.

Name removed

I think it really speaks for itself in terms of quality and logic. I wonder what I will have to do to become a real "Amercan", as he so eloquently put it. I looked up what an Amercan is on MSN Encarta and Google, and I couldn't find what it was, but apparently whatever an Amercan is must be quite desirable for conservatives. If anyone has any ideas, let me know.

Oscar / UFC follow-up

I promised an update on my weekend today, so for my six loyal readers, here it is.

Oscar -- I got Best Picture wrong, but so did a lot of others. Every other pick was correct (although it was a pretty easy year, methinks). I also won the office pool, and by just one point. I got 19 out of 24 correct. I'm pretty sure that I won only because I picked 'It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp' to win Best Song, not because I thought it would win, but because I thought it was the Best Song. I also am pretty sure that I'm the only one in my office who picked it to win, although I'll find out tomorrow morning ... when I collect my winnings!

Vegas / UFC 58 -- Speaking of winnings, I wish I would've had some in Vegas this past weekend. Lost about $150 on craps and a dash of slots. Got food poisoning from McDonalds (in fact, I think that it was called the 'Food Poisoning Breakfast Combo'), so I've now added them to the short list of fast-food joints that I've sworn off. But none of that matters, because we had great seats for the Ultimate Fighting Championship, and we got to get into an after-party hosted by Dana White, the president of the UFC. Pics posted below. And yes, that is a shit-eating grin on my face in both of them.

Dana White and me (he's the bald one, I'm the drunk one)

me and Matt Hughes, the UFC welterweight champion

Both of them were genuinely nice, and tolerated my drunken geeky fan-boy schtick (although I'm sure they're used to it by now).

As for my UFC picks, I got one wrong there too, and it was the Upset Special. Loiseau got owned in all five rounds. He couldn't take Franklin down, and Franklin lit him up. They stayed standing for all but seven of the 25 minutes of the bout, and even though it was very one-sided, it was incredible to watch. Loiseau absorbed more punishment than I've seen anyone take in quite some time.

And if you're new to the UFC, take a look at this link for some history, and a bit of a look forward. Having been a fan since the third UFC came out on VHS, I can attest to the growth that the writer speaks of. It went from a sideshow, to a legitimate event, to a real sanctioned sport.