SEPARATE AND UNEQUAL

EXSQUEEZE ME? UH BAKING POWDER? She's at it again. Ann Coulter opened her big mouth yet again last week and proved once more that she really can shove her entire foot in there. Maybe blonde and brainless really do go hand in hand. Last week, when speaking to a group of students at Philander Smith College, Coulter suggested that in order to overturn the Roe v. Wade decision (in order to make abortions illegal) we needed more conservative judges on the Supreme Court. The best way to do that? Easy. She suggested that we could poison one of the more liberal judges like John Paul Stevens. Is this moron serious? Isn't it bad enough that we have to go through the slow and painful death of the United States as we know it? She wants to speed the process up by just killing off all of the liberal judges? What's next Ann? Making it illegal to vote Democrat? Then we can start imprisoning people for not going to church, or fining people for sex out of wedlock. Is there any end to what this blonde bitch will suggest is good for this country just so she can see or hear herself on the evening news? Guess what? Making the news for a segment on morons is easy. Dubya has made a career of it. Your looks will soon fade like your brains have Ms. Coulter. Then you'll be as ugly on the outside as you are soulless on the inside. Ann Coulter is far from the first idiot to spout off theories for how to improve the country without adhering to silly guidelines like laws or the constitution. Here's my question, why isn't she in jail? I think it is a scary sign of how far to the right the country has swung when conservative junkies like Ann Coulter can make death threats against liberal Supreme Court judges and have no action taken against her. What do you think would happen if James Carville started going college to college and suggested that we poison Dubya and Cheney so that Roe v. Wade would no longer be in jeopardy? Bush would site the patriot act and find a way to throw him in jail (and keep him there). All the major news networks would report on it. But we don't hold conservatives to the same standards as liberals in this country. Conservatives can say anything that want and get away with it. Yet anyone who even attempts to question the Bush regime is labeled as the "Liberal Media" and is said to have unpatriotic motivation. A death threat is a death threat. Ann Coulter should be handcuffed, arrested, and thrown in jail (and perhaps in typical Republican fashion not given a trial or a bail hearing and just held indefinitely). Better yet, maybe we should ship her off to Iraq and make her fight for the Bush regime that way. I'm sure she'd have a great audience for her mindless babble in Baghdad. The people there seem very receptive to loud mouthed, opinionated women that flaunt their alleged good looks and applaud the methods of George Bush. The only things she's been successful in poisoning here are our minds, our schools, and our journalists. Please Ann, for all our sakes, just shut the fuck up. IMPEACHMENT: NOT JUST FOR BLOWJOBS ANYMORE Last night on C-SPAN (this is a hearsay account as told to me by one of my very reliable sources) Ramsey Clark outlined efforts being made to organize a movement to impeach Bush. Guess what Ramsey? Too little, too late. Today is a sad, sad day in American History. Samuel Alito has been confirmed to the Supreme Court. With the confirmation of Alito, George Bush has secured his legacy. In time, the memories of fixed elections, 9/11, the war, Katrina, and domestic spying (illegally) will fade. The lasting effect the Sam Alito will have on this country will linger on far longer. Not only was Dubya successful in allowing 9/11 to happen so that he could then use it to start a war from which he, his friends, and his family could profit; but also in also using 9/11 to pass the patriot act, elevating his powers to unchecked levels. Now with the confirmation of Samuel Alito, his second conservative appointment to the high court in a very short period of time, he has assured that the "values" of the new republican party (i.e., what would jesus do) will impact heavily upon our constitution. The line between church and state has all but vanished. The GOP members fully backed Bush on this appointment, and sadly so did 4 of the democrats (they will be called out in a future Spoon Full Of Truth). The Democrats who have allowed Dubya's cowboy antics to go dangerously unchecked could not even muster the guts for a filibuster to stop Alito's confirmation. Georgie wanted him confirmed in time to gloat at his State of the Union address, and as is all to common these days, he got his way. Now, the Democrats are talking about outlining efforts to organize a movement to impeach Bush. Outlining efforts to organize a movement? You pussies. Here's an outline, I'll help you out: #1) Give yourselves a good hard kick in the balls, it seems they may have stopped working and need a jump start. #2) You remember Ken Starr? Bill Clinton? Monica Lewinsky? Any of that ring a bell? We spent enough tax payer money to investigate Clinton's B. J. now why don't you do the same thing for the actual CRIMES that Bush committed. What's the point really though? Alito has been confirmed. You Democrats did nothing to stop it. You did nothing to stand up for the majority of us who voted democrat in 2000. You did nothing for the almost 50% who voted democrat in 2004. And you claim to represent us? to represent me? Even if the democrats do win the Presidency in 2008, the damage has already been done. The real legacy of George W. Bush is Samuel Alito, the ability for a president to make, break, bend, and twist the law as he sees fit to achieve his agenda, and in most likelihood, a woman's right to choose. DUBYA, A MAN OF HIS WORD George Bush, a liar? Say it isn't so. Maybe he has stretched the truth a little, maybe he has told one or two small white lies, but sometimes even Dubya keeps his word. "Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we." (August 5th 2004) Thanks for keeping your promise on this one Georgie. True to your word, you continue to find new and puzzling ways to harm both your country and your people. This pretty much speaks for itself. TIPS FOR GUYS WHO NEED TIPS I'm amazed at how many guys have told me that women are impossible to understand. Women are not impossible to understand. Some men however, are incapable of understanding them. It's not so much because women are an enigma, but more so because some men don't take the time to decipher the woman code. In order to make the dating game easier for everyone, (since I am now officially out of the game and have to live vicariously through all of my single readers) I will help you clueless gents out a bit. Starting today (and continuing from time to time in Spoon Full Of Truth) I will offer you men out there a new key to unlocking the secrets of woman. Grab a pen and paper, class is in session. The first lesson is one you should have learned at a very young age. Most young boys own a hat of some sort. Whether it be a baseball cap, winter hat (toque, to my wife), or stylish accessory, chances are, you had your head covered at some point while in the presence of a girl. If that girl ever stole the hat off of your head and put it on her head, you were privy to the Spoon Full Of Truth Rule #1 for clueless men: Chicks who steal shit off of your head and put it on their head will have sex with you. Now maybe this doesn't hold true when you're in 2nd grade. But the general rule is the same. If the girl does it in 2nd grade, she'll have the equivalent of 2nd grade sex with you (which involves something like holding hands). If the girl does it in college, you're looking at some good old fashioned college sex (mmmm....college sex). Now pay attention, because this next point is important. Just because a woman steals your hat and puts it on her head doesn't mean you have the right to have sex with her. It means she's ripe for being convinced. So don't screw it up. Next time, we'll work on ways to make it from this initial signal that the girl is interested, to the next step: closing the deal. In the mean time, every one run out and buy a hat. If a girl tries to steal it off of your head, play hard to get, but let her win. Letting her take the baseball cap off the big head, might lead to a jimmy-cap being put on the little one. (no actual women were taken advantage of in the writing of this segment) TO SUBSCRIBE OR NOT TO SUBSCRIBE I will soon be stopping my notification emails for new blog posts. You can use the subscribe button to the right (under the archives) to stay on the notification list or just make it a point to check back often. There will also soon be a new blog section that will include upcoming movie and CD reviews. The truth on your favorite actors and musicians. So why not trust me as your news source for entertainment as well? We'll see how it goes. Thanks again for reading, check back soon for another Spoon FULL of Truth.

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

WHO ARE THE REAL CRIMINALS? At this point I've come to expect awful things from Dubya. The guy is so high on his own ego he must feel like he's been whisked back in time to his cocaine days. He is a loose cannon, he is a criminal, but he's not the only one to blame. The news media is supposed to serve as a watchdog function on the government. They are supposed to question shady government dealings and bring them to the attention of the general public. They are meant to serve as a link between the people and elected government officials. So why is it that the media has been giving Bush a free pass? It's easy. The media works for the GOP. I could sit here and list Bush's atrocities all day long; Iraq, Katrina, and domestic spying are just the tip of the iceberg. Bush is not satisfied with breaking the law, however. He wants to change it. He wants to give so much power to the president, that they become a dictator. The exact kind of power he claimed was wrong for Iraq. He wants to change the laws to allow domestic spying. He wants to circumvent the constitution by using the patriot act. It is not at all outside the realm of possibility that once he has another lackey on the supreme court that he will try to change the law that prohibits presidents from serving more then two terms. I can picture him in my head right now. Standing in his ranch in Texas. Trying on one of those fake crowns (that he no doubt got with his Burger King "Big Kid's" meal) and repeating "King George" over and over into his mirror. And the media is laying down the red carpet for his coronation. Why? Because every single news outlet is owned by a Republican. And these Republicans, like Bush (and the other usual suspects), want to control what the general public actually knows. It's a wonderful control tool. Control the information and you control the people. Some of these media outlets are going so far as to report FOR the government. If the government wants to release a statement, they should make an address to the union. But why do for yourself what someone else can do for you? Fox news might as well rename itself "The Bush Report: all the 'news' that Dubya lets us share." To make matters worse, he's got the other tools in place he needs to succeed. First, he will soon have a majority of supreme court judges who agree with his twisted visions. Second, he has the Senate who would approve anything he asks of them. The Judiciary, Legislative, and Executive are supposed to work WITH one another, not FOR one another. Too much control now lies in the President's hands and he is mad with power. It is still possible for the general public to learn the truth, but they have to search so hard to seek it out that many don't bother. This information should be readily available to all of us. It should be leading the evening news every night. What does lead the news? The war in Iraq, a local murder, the weather, and the issues that the Bush camp has created (i.e., baseball's steroids scandal) to take focus away from their master plan. I am issuing a challenge to the media. Do your fucking job! Telling me that there is a cold front coming is not news. Telling me that there is a radical take over of the US government by right-wing christian conservatives concerns me a little more. It concerns ALL of us a little more. I am also issuing a challenge to everyone else out there that has had enough of this. Stand up and say NO to mad cowboy disease! Seek out the truth. One big spoon FULL of it at a time. BUD SELIG STOLE MY IDEA It's not like I'm bitter, Bud. OK maybe I am a little bitter. I mean, it's not like I planned on selling you the idea. I would have been happy to let you use it to improve the game for free. How about a little recognition? Many years ago, while sitting at a Phillies game with my friend Alan, probably bored out of our minds (because in all likelihood, the Phillies were losing), I had a great idea. I decided that the baseball all-star game should decide home field advantage for the world series. At the time, home field advantage was simply switched from the AL one year, to the NL the next. The all-star game was just a popularity contest where you got to see the biggest names in baseball all half-ass it for an inning or two and then be replaced by some other guy who probably didn't make it to the big game on merit either. One year they even ran out of pitchers. For shame. So I had this great idea and what happened? Bud Selig stole it. And claimed it as his own. That's fine Bud. I see how it is. I probably wasn't going to do anything with the idea anyway. And considering you're the commissioner of major league baseball and I'm not, you probably put it to better use. But next time I have a revolutionary idea to change the game for the better, I'm posting it right here on Spoon Full Of Truth. Then, when you try to steal it, you'll be called out at the bag. YOU ARE NOW FREE TO MOVE ABOUT THE MIND I need a vacation from the ordinary. Normal vacations are great but they take time and money and frankly, not many people have much of either these days. For me, the solution is simple, a pretend vacation is in order. A pretend vacation gives me a lot more to be excited about. For starters, I have a lot more destinations to choose from. Australia for a real vacation? Please. I probably couldn't even afford a phone call to Australia. But on my imaginary budget, I can go first class. In fact, I'm taking my own private jet. And it can travel so fast that I'll be there before I know it. I should probably have the young, sexy maids turn my sheets down in my mansion on the beach before I arrive. That'll give them something to do before they attend to more important jobs, like making out with each other while feeding me grapes. I figure my wife won't like this, but then again she'll probably be too busy shopping with the twenty-million pretend dollars I'm going to give her. Nothing's too good for my baby. Well, since this vacation has cost me nothing so far, and I've still got hours and hours before the real sun comes up, I might as well keep it going. Tired of my private jet, and eager to use my new teleportation device (I picked one up down under, you should consider it if you have the means), I'll probably head to Amsterdam next. I now own my own coffee house and that's the first place I'll go. Good thing they serve pot as well as coffee, and for me, it's on the house. Hell, I'm going to get all of Amsterdam high and it's on the house. This is, after all, a vacation. I should splurge. It's good to be back in Amsterdam but to be honest I'm getting a little homesick. I'm gonna head home, and....I'm back. That was quite a trip. The best part is, it only took about ten minutes and cost me nothing. I probably shouldn't have wasted my money on imaginary trip insurance though. Oh well. Next time I'll pretend something came up at the last minute and put the insurance to use. I imagine that'll work. YO EVERYBODY! I went to this bar near my apartment tonight and they were filming the new Rocky movie on the street outside. Rocky Balboa. Isn't this a bit of a stretch? First he loses to Apollo. Then he beats Apollo. Then they become friends. Then the Russian kills Apollo. Then Rocky avenges Apollo. And let us not for get his epic with Mr. T (who, for the record, doesn't hate Rocky, he just pities the fool). That was when Rocky was like 30 (maybe 40) years old. And this time? He's my dad's age. Granted he was my dad's age the first time, but my father wouldn't kick to much ass these days and I'm not expecting much better from Rocky. But wait, I'm forgetting it's the Rocky movie. Of course he's gonna win again. Unless they are planning to make him lose and come back stronger in Rocky 7. I won't hold my breath. But I can safely now assume that Rocky Balboa will find a way to conquer all and come out victorious by the end of the movie. So, if we all know he's gonna win anyway in his dramatic (although completely unrealistic) return to the ring, why not up the ante a little bit. Have him fight two guys at once. Or a chick. Why not? Does it really matter who he fights? He's 60. I could probably kick Rocky's ass at this point (although to be safe, we'll leave that at an assumption). I'm from Philly. I'm going to go see Rocky Balboa no matter who it is he's fighting. I'm gonna pay for my over priced ticket, sit in my seat with my feet stuck to the floor, and cheer for Sly to regain his glory. But with the outcome of the movie so obvious, they might as well have let Disney produce it (was I the only one who thought the Mighty Ducks would lose?). And if I already know how the movie ends, I might as well be thrilled out of my mind until it comes. Maybe Rocky will fight aliens, have sex with some eighteen year old Swedish girls, cure cancer, and then bite his opponent's nose off, all before winning the heavy weight title back. Then, when he finally hangs the gloves up, he can fight his biggest battle of them all. He can invent his own table top grilling machine and give George Forman a run for his money. I hope Rocky's machine works better. I have a little more steak in it. I DON'T DO WEEKENDS That's all until Monday folks. Everyone enjoy your weekend and take some time to do whatever you can to keep Sam Alito from being confirmed by the Senate. Remember people, these politicians work for us. We gave them their jobs and we CAN take them away. Tell your congressman how you feel now, let them know they'll lose your vote if they vote to confirm Alito. And then, hold to it. A vote for Alito means one less vote for them. Sometimes that's the only language these spineless cowards understand. If you find yourself in need of more truth before Monday, please visit the archives where you can find a wealth of knowledge. It's a little much to take in all at once, so relax, take a deep breath, and take it one Spoon FULL at a time.

THE RIGHT VS. WHAT'S RIGHT

LITTLE HANDS, LITTLE ACTION I'm an avid basketball fan. The NBA has its' moments, but for my money it doesn't get any better than a well played college basketball game, a MEN's college basketball game. I'm not against female athletics, especially not college aged women putting themselves through school on their athletic talent. What I am against, are the rules and regulations of women's basketball. The truth is, men and women do not play on an even playing field when it comes to basketball. They both play on the same sized basketball court, they both play with a ten foot high basket, but the women's basketball is smaller. Women do have smaller hands than men and so it might make sense that the women's ball should be smaller. But a smaller ball, should mean a smaller rim, and that isn't the case. If the basket is the same size for men and for women, but the ball is smaller for women, it's safe to say it's easier for a woman to score in basketball. If you are going to make one concession for women, why not make several? First of all, make the basket and the ball proportionate. If the ball is small, make the rim small too. Problem solved. Next, lower the rim to a height of eight feet and let some of these chicks dunk. I'm sorry, there is just nothing exciting about grabbing a rebound, throwing a great outlet pass to open up the fast break, just to have the end result be a lay-up, EVERY time. Sure, there are lay-ups in the men's game too. It's the mere possibility of each play being capped off by a monstrous thunder dunk that keeps it exciting. A ten foot high basket in the women's game all but eliminates this possibility, and that sucks. So listen up WNBA and NCAA Women's division. You've already made it easier for women to make a jump-shot. Why not make it a little easier for the ladies to dunk? If you're gonna change the game, CHANGE the game. I'm not asking for topless free-throw shooting, just a little tomahawk action. SOMEONE'S IN THE KITCHEN WITH DINAH What better way to follow up on women on the basketball court then with men in the kitchen? Not only do I write one of the most informative blogs on the net, I also make the world's greatest grilled cheese sandwich. Many people have tried to refute this claim, only to taste the pure bliss that accompanies every bite of my tasty grilled cheeses, quickly persuading them to change their tune. I have also had many challengers to the grilled cheese throne, all have been humbled in defeat. What makes my grilled cheese sandwich stand out in a world of similar creations? It's really hard to say. I think it's the subtle nuances. The perfect golden brown color of the bread. The way the bread stays moist on the inside, yet has a slight crunch around the edges. The way the cheese melts perfectly, giving you equal portions of gooey goodness inside each and every bite. Whatever the reason, I have accepted the title of world's greatest grilled cheese artist and strive everyday to live up to the standards that such a title commands. I will never stop searching for ways to improve that which, many say, cannot be improved; to set the bar of perfection at a new height. For, as long as poor college kids yearn for something tasty to eat, as long as hippies still attend music festivals, as long as those close to me long for culinary nirvana, I shall be there, spatula in hand, ready to sizzle. A SPOON FULL OF TRUTH CALL FOR ACTION It looks like the Bush camp is going to win the war after all. Not the war in Iraq, not the war on terror, the war against our civil liberties. The GOP is about to get a second, FAR-right minded person onto the supreme court in less then a year. 9/11? Iraq? Katrina? Spying on Americans? Steroids? All just smoke and mirrors. As long as these things continue to dominate the headlines, much more important issues, issues that will shape the future of this country (and possibly the world) for decades and decades to come, can fly under the radar. Sure all of these things are important, but they won't be Bush's real legacy. His real legacy will be how he continues to shape and change our country for the worse once his term in office is over. The best way to do that? Bush went looking for a supreme court justice that would share his views to a tee. Someone who would continue Dubya's legacy of shredding the constitution in favor of a new political document, the bible. In Sam Alito, he found that man. The worst part is, two-thirds of this country have no idea what he is doing. They are so wrapped up in the issues that the GOP has allowed the media to report on, that this much bigger story is not being followed. People are too consumed in their daily lives to be concerned with their future. The future is NOW people. The future of this country won't be decided in the next presidential election, it will be decided this week. If this Senate confirms Sam Alito, the rest is only a matter of time. Eventually he will help overturn Roe vs. Wade, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Some facts about Sam Alito: Alito has fought for full immunity for administration officials who illegally spy on Americans, and Bush stands accused of just that crime. Alito believes in a theory of the super-powerful "unitary executive" that would justify Bush's attempts to indefinitely detain American citizens without trial or charges. Alito even opposed Morrison vs. Olson which gave Congress the power to appoint a special counsel, that the president cannot just fire at will, to investigate presidential scandals. This country was created with three branches (Judiciary, Executive, Legislative) so that no one branch would have too much power. Bush, with Alito's help, is dangerously threatening this basic staple of our government. With a maniac like Bush as president, a supreme court filled with justices who were appointed BECAUSE they share the president's views, and a Senate filled with men and women who are too busy accepting bribes to consider the consequences of the votes they are casting, we citizens are in trouble. The door is closing on us rapidly, but it is not closed yet. Stand up! Make some noise! Write a letter! Call your Senator! If you do nothing, and accept this future as inevitable, they have already won. Whatever happened to "by the people, for the people"? WE are the people. For yourselves, for your children, for your children's children, it's time to make a stand. The far-right, is wrong for America. I MISS YOU POP-POP My grandfather's name (my father's father) was Albert Miller. But that wasn't how I knew him. To my brother and I, he was only Pop-pop. He and my grandmom lived about two hours away in Scranton, PA. I used to love going to visit them as kids. My grandmother used to make us the mini Lender's bagels with whipped Philadelphia cream cheese. He had very large ears and I loved to play with them. They were all wrinkly and smooth. He would try to keep a very straight face like he hated me playing with them, but he always had a little twinkle in his eye and a little smirk in the corner of his mouth. I knew he didn't mind. My Pop-pop would never let us leave before we gave him a hug, and he gave us twenty bucks. In his way, this was to show us that he loved us. I didn't need the money to know that. Whenever I was dressed like a slob or acting lazy, he would always call me "Schlimey Schlepperman." I used to love that. He and my grandmom would take us to an arcade called Top Dog near their house and feed us quarters for hours as we held up the hope that we could earn enough tickets for one of the top prizes. Eventually we did. I last saw my Pop-pop on father's day a few years ago. I went to see him in the hospital where he was recovering from a heart-attack. True to form he slipped me twenty dollars from his hospital bed. The doctors said he was doing well and would be fine. He died a few days later. Sometimes I still can't believe he's gone. My other three grandparents (my father's mother, and both of my mother's parents) are still alive. I've been very lucky to get to know them all so well. Sometimes I wish I could just have one more day with him. I want to tell him how good of a dad my father has been to me. I think it would make him really proud. I also want him to meet my wife and show him that I'm not the same Schlimey Schlepperman I was as a kid. I hope he'd be proud of me too. In a few years, when I have kids, I know they'll love their Pop-pop as much as I loved mine (and yes Mom, their Nana too). DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO I've done a lot of stupid things in my life time. Hopefully through the knowledge gained from my experiences, I can keep at least one of you from making the same mistakes. The following is a list of things you might want to think twice about trying, I wish I had. Don't eat two large pizza hut pizzas by yourself in one sitting just because your friend doubts you can. You might prove him right, you also might vomit. Don't try to bleach your hair for the first time on a 90 degree day. If sweat runs into your eyebrows, it might turn them orange. Don't touch your penis soon after touching poison ivy. It's uncomfortable enough when it's on your hands. Don't steal cologne from the store when you're little, cover yourself in it, and then try to convince your mother it wasn't you. Unless your mother has no nose, then go for it. Just because it is all you can eat, doesn't mean you should eat all you can. You'll never actually make them lose money. Don't threaten to take a shit in the opposing team's dugout if the Phillies pitcher hits a grand slam his next time up. Odds are, he won't do it. Then again he could be Jeff Juden. Don't try to shave your head without water or shaving cream. Razor burn is a bitch. Don't spend all day in the sun in Florida without sunscreen because you think a really good tan will look cool. Blisters on your ears do not look cool. Don't pull anyone's finger. Not if I'm in the room. Hopefully this will keep too many of you from walking in my shoes. I'd hate to say I told you so. I EXPRESS GRATITUDE I'd like to send out a big "Spoon Full Of Truth" thank you to my good friend Alan. Thanks to him, you will now notice that there is a "SUBSCRIBE TO THIS BLOG" button located underneath the archives. Please use this feature to subscribe to Spoon Full Of Truth so you can be notified of all new postings. Alan is not only good with the tech questions, he's also (unknowingly) the first lucky player in the "Spoon Full Of Truth, Find My Friend A Fox" date contest. Ladies, if you'd like to win a fabulous date with this attractive, intelligent gentleman, please send a revealing photo of yourself along with 500 words or less on why you would make the perfect date to: spoonfulloftruth@aol.com. Please put "DATE CONTEST" in the subject line. Until next time...

FOREFATHERS LACKED FORESIGHT

CIRCUMCISING CITY GOVERNMENT Atop Philadelphia's City Hall building, sits a statue of William Penn. In one hand he holds a parchment. In the other, a scroll. Seems harmless, right? Looks can be deceiving. The drive up the Ben Franklin Parkway is a beautiful one. The Parkway starts by the historic Philadelphia Museum of Art, winds past the famed Franklin Institute, weaves its way around Logan Circle, and ends at Love Park (home to the LOVE statue, the most copied piece of sculpture in the entire world, according to my unsubstantiated sources) near the base of City Hall. What better way to showcase the centerpiece of Philadelphia City Government then with a beautiful drive up a long, winding parkway, which ends on the doorstep of this marvelous building. As drivers make their way up the Parkway, they can't help but notice the superior architecture of City Hall (until recent years, a law in Philadelphia prohibited any building from being taller than City Hall, making it really stand out amongst the other buildings) and take notice of the statue on top. And what's that he's holding in his hand? Is that...his penis? It sure looks that way. From any other direction it is clear that what William Penn is holding in his right hand is a scroll. Due to a small lack in foresight however, from the parkway, it looks like he's got a big old hand full of one-eyed trouser snake. Here's the problem, his right hand, is level with his crotch. The end of the scroll which sticks out the back of his hand is blocked by his body in the parkway view. Therefore, it looks like he's holding his hand level with his crotch, and has a penis shaped article sticking out of his hand. You do the math. Whose planning was this? What brilliant city planner thought it would be wise to welcome people to this beautiful city with a giant statue of a masturbating Quaker? No one conscientiously objected to that? I know they are into the whole "make love, not war" thing but isn't this taking it a little too far? This is, after all, the city of brotherly love; but that doesn't mean that we're so comfortable with one another that we should all just take out our dicks and play with them in public. The statue should at least have a giant condom on it. What better way to promote safe sex amongst the city's Quaker youth? "William Penn wraps it up, and so should you!" Philadelphia is a great city. I just wish that when planning city hall, our forefathers had used a little more foresight in keeping William Penn's foreskin in his pants. WEDDING "DRESS" CODE I guess it's just that time in life when everyone starts getting married. Whether it be coincidence or not, within the last two years, myself, and many of my friends, have gotten engaged or married. I have no complaints with that. I'm in love, my friends are in love, what could possibly bother me about all of these weddings? I'll tell you what. The dress code. For guys it's easy. I wore a tux to my friend Dan's wedding. I wore the same tux to each of my weddings (yes, we had two). I'm planning on wearing it to three more weddings this year. My wife however, does not wear the same dress to each wedding. Women, it seems, have the need the wear a new dress to each and every wedding they go to. To be fair, weddings to women are special events, the beginning of a new life; they like to dress up. For guys, a wedding is more like a funeral, an end to their friends' days as a bachelor (making an all black tux appropriate). I guess it would be like me wanting to buy a new football jersey for every game I went to. I'm gonna have to run that one by the Mrs. With many weddings already on my calendar for 2006, it really got me thinking. Thank god I have a hot wife. I really don't think I could justify my wife buying a new dress for every one (or at least most) of these wedding celebrations, if she didn't look killer in them. To all you guys out there with busted (ugly) wives, fat girlfriends, or just unattractive dates, I'm sorry. Life must be rough for you. If my wife was ugly, and kept wanting to buy a new dress for each wedding we attended, I don't think I could handle it. "But baby, why buy a new dress? You're not gonna look any better in it than you did in the last one...how about I get you a double cheeseburger instead?" There are some advantages to buying new dresses all the time, even if your woman does look like she just went ten long rounds in an ugly fight, right? I mean, I guess if I had to eat the same shitty food for dinner every night, it would still make sense to serve it on different plates to change it up a little. It might not taste any better, but variety is the spice of life. So to all you men bringing ugly women to weddings, I salute you. You spend all that money on your woman for a dress that probably doesn't even look good. That takes balls. All the same, I'm thankful my wife is a fox. Every dollar that goes towards her clothing is money well spent. I just wish that for the next wedding I could get her a dress that not only looked good, but played Sportscenter highlights across her tits. That would be a marriage of two truly great things. I CAN'T KEEP ACTING LIKE I CARE I can't take it anymore. Every single year I have to hear about the fucking academy awards. Worse yet, I have to listen to all of the people who actually care about them. They care about what the movie stars are wearing, who's nominated for what award, and who actually wins. Why? These actors get paid millions of dollars to act in a movie. Then they borrow designer clothes and jewelry and parade down a red carpet. Then we give them fucking awards for it? I have a better idea. Why don't we get all these actors together every year and vote for the WORST movies and worst acting jobs in Hollywood? Then, everyone who has a ticket stub for that movie gets their money back. Now that I'd watch. I'm sick of this thinking that we should award movie stars. If some actor does a stunning portrayal of a doctor who finds the cure for AIDS, does it really cure AIDS? If an actress takes on the role of being a a slave in the 1800s, doesn't she still go home to her big-ass mansion where her servants are no doubt waiting to attend to her every need? These people entertain us. Sure it's a nice distraction to go sit in a movie for two hours (unless you're looking for a distraction from the fact that movie's cost too damn much) but at the end of the movie has your life really changed that much? How about awards for the best teachers? Or the firefighter awards? Do we have those? Maybe. But they don't get a three-hour prime time block on the networks. To make it worse, we now have the Golden Globes, Oscar's annoying little sister. One award show was bad enough. If you really wanna make it exciting, how about everyone that gets nominated for a Golden Globe, and doesn't win, has to fight to the death. Now that's suspense. And how about the fact that all of these movie stars get gift bags for attending these award shows and they are filled with thousands of dollars worth of free shit? I have friends who are teachers who get so little funding that they have to shell out their own money just to get supplies for their classroom. And we're gonna give freebies to movie stars? Fuck that. If these thespians really want to play the role of a lifetime, one of them should try acting like they have a brain, or a heart, and instead of giving gift bags to themselves, they should turn the whole award show into a fund raiser and donate the money to some worth while cause. With that unlikely to happen, I'm just going to act like the Oscars don't exist. Please join me. I CONTINUE MY ASSAULT ON CORPORATE AMERICA Today's victim: Long John Silvers. I've never actually eaten at a Long John Silvers. To be honest, I'm not sure I've ever even seen one. I'll go out on a limb here and say it's something like Taco Bell for seafood. Sounds about as appealing as fucking your cousin (Long John Silvers must do really well in West Virginia). Long John Silvers has a current TV ad where they show you their new .99 cent fish sandwich. Then some guy eats it actually appears to enjoy it (he should get an early Oscar nod for next year). Then they flash their catchy new slogan. "Yarr, Genius" Genius? If inventing the cheapest fish sandwich in existence, gained you acceptance into MENSA, I'd be in the kitchen right now with a loaf of bread, a fish, and my calculator. Okay, maybe in the fishing and pirate communities, this kind of thing passes for genius. But not here at Spoon Full Of Truth. You want to be a genius? Invent a fish sandwich that cures the bird flu. Genius? Please. Well, maybe I should reconsider. You have found a way to make a fish sandwich so cheaply that you can charge .99 cents and still turn a profit. And, you have persuaded enough people to buy the thing to keep you in business. Maybe you are a genius. You certainly look like MacArthur Fellow when compared to a person who has no qualms about eating a fish sandwich that they purchased with coins from their sofa. It's a good reminder for all of us. No matter how stupid you may be, there's always someone else out there that can make you look like a genius. THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN OF NESTOR AND BLINKY When my brother and I were young kids, we used to play this game with my father. We pretended we were two young adventure seekers named Nestor and Blinky. My father our arch nemesis, the evil Jay Fanyal. With my brother Blinky we got into all sorts of adventures and thwarted the plots of Jay Fanyal. Often times we would pretend that our living room couch was a raft and that the oriental rug on which it sat was a body of water. Blinky and I would travel down the river and Jay Fanyal, often disguised as a curious crocodile, would attack from the confines of the water, dragging one of us down into the depths, only to be saved at the last second by the cunning team work of his brother. On our own, one of us was not able to ward off the attack (often tickle-based) of the more powerful Jay Fanyal. As a team, Nestor and Blinky always found a way to escape his evil clutches. As we got a little older we played the game less and less. Eventually, we stopped playing all together. Sometimes I still get the feeling that Jay Fanyal is out there, waiting to attack when we least expect it. If that day ever comes, and Blinky and I are forced to make our return, I know together, we can be triumphant once again. CAN I INTEREST YOU IN SOME COFFEE OR DESSERT? Tonight's special? Double chocolate mousse cake, served with a Spoon Full of Truth. This one's on the house. ***Like what you've seen so far at SPOON FULL OF TRUTH? Think I am a complete moron? Have some other feedback? Tell me about it! Spoonfulloftruth@aol.com ***

TODAY'S ATHLETES: BEING HELD TO "HIGH" STANDARDS

HIGH TIMES We are living through the end of the common steroid era. Until athletes (and those who aid them) can come up with creative new drugs, and creative new ways to beat the drug tests, it looks like we're in for a more level playing field than we've seen in recent years. There's still one small problem though, Athletes and majijuana. I get it. Athletes are all supposed to be on an even playing field. If one takes a substance that can make them run faster, jump higher, hit harder, or go longer than another athlete, it's unfair. But why are we so against them puffing a little mary jane? Who's the last runner you can think of that got really stoned and then won the gold in the 400 meters? How about the last baseball player to get really high before a game and then make a dazzling, diving catch in the outfield? The last football player to toke up before the big game and then remember what all those plays with the ridiculous names actually mean? Mind still blank? There's a reason for that. Aside from the obvious answer, that the average Spoon Full Of Truth reader is also, in most likelihood, a bit of a stoner themselves, there's a deeper one. Because no one, and I mean NO one, smokes, eats, or does anything with marijuana that gives them an advantage on the playing field. The track and field stoner? He stopped after 200 meters to grab a hot dog from the vendor in the nearby stands. The baseball pot-head? He was gonna make a great diving catch, but they were showing a far-out blooper reel on the fan-a-vision and he got distracted watching that. The football herbalist? He forgot where he was so he decided to take a quick cat nap on the sideline. So here's what I propose: First, all Philadelphia sports teams should not only allow, but encourage teams from other cities to puff that shit, pass that shit. We might as well get together as a city, roll about one million joints, and send a few to every professional athlete who plays for an opposing city's team. The higher they are when the game starts, the better. I don't care. If the Seahawks wanna smoke a bowl, in the huddle, during the fucking game...I say, let 'em. Maybe then they won't kick the Eagles asses 42-0 on Monday night. We should supply them with the weed, and a 20 foot hoagie to further distract them. Would you expect any less from the City of Brotherly Love? Secondly, if George Bush wants to send the message to the world that we're the biggest, baddest kid on the block, what better way to do it then by bringing home every single gold metal that the Olympics has to offer, for the old Red, White, and Blue? And what better way to do that than to throw a big extrava-ganja for all the world's athletes, and to supply them all with all the wacky tabacky they can handle? Because here in America we should send out the same message to the world about marijuana use for athletes, as we do about most other things we're firmly against: We're too high and mighty for that, but it's certainly good enough for the rest of you. YOU STAY OUT OF THE STANDS, WE'LL STAY OFF THE COURT So yet another NBA player went into the stands this week. This time it was Antonio Davis of the New York Knicks, the head of the NBA Players Association. Why'd he do it? He claimed he thought his wife was in danger and had to protect her. It seems fair. I would have done the same thing if my wife were in danger. But isn't this kind of thing preventable? Here are some suggestions that the NBA can feel free to adopt: First, any player who has a loudmouth, fight starting wife, should have to shell out some money to buy her a seat in a luxury box, away from the rest of the fans. That's right Antonio. Your wife has started shit before. If she can't handle other fans talking shit on her man, and feels the need to confront them about it, she shouldn't be sitting next to them. NBA fans spend a lot of money to attend games and like it or not, part of the experience is being able to declare your love (or hatred of) the players in the game. If I owned a restaurant, and my wife was eating in the dining room and overheard other customers saying that they thought the food sucked, I wouldn't expect her to start a threatening dialogue with them. As long as they paid their tab they could say whatever they wanted to about the place. Mrs. Davis might have flipped a table over and come to blows with the patrons for "dissin' her man's cuisine". Fuck that. My second suggestion is that players should be hit with the same fines for going into the stands, that fans get for going onto the court. If a fan walks out onto the court, he is all but tackled by security, the police, other fans, refs, coaches, players, anyone who thinks they can stop him. When a player goes into the stands, the same shit should happen. They should be tackled by as many people as it takes to subdue them, and they should be carted directly off to jail. Because the last time I checked, if nothing else, they weren't holding a ticket stub for a seat. That's grounds to remove anyone else from the building. Let's start holding players to the same standards. Look, no one wants to listen to someone talk shit on their spouse. But when your spouse is being paid MILLIONS and MILLIONS of dollars to play basketball, it's time to let it go. Sure you might over hear someone screaming "Davis sucks!" "Davis can't play worth shit!" and so what if they do? Do you think his coach is going to overhear the opposing fans screaming, suddenly realize the player does suck, and drastically reduce his playing time and salary? I think we all know the answer. So, until the NBA starts paying fans MILLIONS of dollars to keep their mouths shut, someone get Mrs. Antonio Davis and the rest of these head-case wives some ear plugs, and a fucking xanax. WORLD'S GREATEST HEARSAY WOMEN'S SPORTS QUOTES These quotes come to you live and mostly uncut from the wonderful women in my life (thanks ladies). The first, solidified the fact that you should not use an extra ticket to a baseball game (especially one very close to the field) to bring your mother to the game. I did just this a few years ago at a Phillies game and was lucky enough to be privy to this sports gem that my mother uttered while checking out Curt Shilling on the mound: "Doesn't it look like Schilling has a huge boner?" Thanks Mom. Good thing I had you there to point out the pitchers' erection to me. Otherwise I might have overlooked it and paid attention to something silly, like the score of the game. If you've ever been to, or seen footage of, a football game, you've probably seen a fan or two in the stands holding up some home made signs. Often one fan has a large cut out of the letter "D," and the second fan has a cut out picture of a white picket fence. Put them together and what have you got? That's right folks, D-FENCE (defense for the layperson). That is of course, unless you are my wife. She recently saw two fans holding up these exact signs and thought to ask me, "What is he holding up a gate for?" Yes honey, it's a gate. Because that makes much more sense than a fence. D-Gate! D-Gate! Hey as long as she's cheering for the right team, I should probably just be happy. Recently, while watching a college basketball game with the wife, I explained to her that the top 25 teams are ranked during the regular season, and at the end of the season, the top 64 teams go into a tournament to decide the college basketball champion. Little did I know, my wife already knew all about march madness, "Oh right, that's the NAACP tournament," She proudly declared. That's right sweetheart. Every march the top 64 teams in college basketball all compete to see who can make the most national advancements for colored people. This year I have my money on Alabama. They are LONG overdue. FUN WITH DICK AND MARY JANE Dubya is at it again. He claims that there isn't enough proof to verify that global warming exists (how is everyone on the East Coast enjoying their 60 degree January? I know I am). He claimed that there wasn't enough proof that the levees in New Orleans would fail, and therefore, could justify cutting funding to fortify them. He claimed there was proof of WMD in Iraq. He also claimed there was proof that they had a hand in planning 9/11. Here's some Dubya math for all of you scholars out there. Dick Cheney + "Yes George, I promise" = proof. If Dick tells Georgie that it's the truth, that's all the proof that dumb fuck needs. "No George, global warming doesn't exist, we can continue to pollute the globe and drill in Alaska," "Yes George, Saddam does have WMD's...he also called your daddy a poopy-head during the first Gulf War, let's attack him!" So my question is, what is Dick Cheney's problem with pot? The "proof" that Dubya uses to justify the illegality of marijuana is probably as factual as his "Bible stories, paint-by-number, story book" he is so fond of. God forbid the leaders of our country should actually read the FACTS about marijuana and make some decisions based on that. They're probably better off just relying on the data that all the nice christian folks have been supplying them with. After all, what do doctors know? The fact is, marijuana is almost harmless and its' benefits FAR outweigh its' damage. Pot SMOKE hurts people. Know why? Because inhaling fucking smoke hurts people! It's not because it's pot smoke, it's because it's smoke, period. If George Bush tore a page out of his precious bible, rolled that badboy up and smoked it, it'd be bad for him too. If pot was legal, people could cultivate fresh pot and do things like cook with it (a much healthier alternative to smoking it) which would vastly cut down on the damage to the lungs. You don't see Dick and George freaking out about cigarette smoking do you? That large campaign contribution from Philip-Morris to the GOP is probably just a coincidence. Next you'll tell me Bush and Cheney are in bed with the pharmaceutical companies too (yet another group of people who would "suffer" if their new, fancy, OVERpriced drugs were replaced by something you could grow at home). Until things change and we have some people in power who are more concerned with the well being of their countrymen than with where their next large campaign contribution is coming from, things are unlikely to change. In the meantime, the Bush Regime would like to remind those of you with Diabetes, Cancer, Glaucoma, Eating Disorders, Migraines, and other ailments that would be relieved by the use of marijuana, to go fuck yourselves. TAKE THAT CAROLINA PANTHERS As I watched the NFC Championship game Sunday night, and watched as the Seahawks beat down the Panthers en route to Superbowl XL, I couldn't help but smile. And why was I smiling? Because I hold onto a grudge like a New Orleanian does to a rooftop, far too long. Two years ago it was my beloved Eagles who were being picked to go to the Superbowl. They didn't. Why not? Because the fucking Carolina Panthers came strolling into town and beat us in our house. This was the game that made the Eagles front office realize that no matter how big a head-case T.O. was off the field, that we needed someone like him on it. And even though T.O. and the Eagles are about to part company, the marriage did produce a trip to the Superbowl. So, while I sat on my couch, eating doritos, and watching the despair on the faces of Panthers' players, it made me happy. Now they know how the Eagles felt two seasons ago while they gloated and celebrated on our field. And how does that feel? Pretty fucking bad I'd guess. At least now the Panthers are off of my shit list and I can go back to hating the real "axis of evil" teams like the Cowboys, Giants, Redskins, and Patriots (and yes you too Bucs, I haven't forgotten about you either). Until you give me another reason to hate you Carolina Panthers, you are officially no longer on my lengthy grudge list. Since you won't be playing in the big game, feel free to drop by and watch it at my place. You bring the beer. AND THE WINNER IS...Each and every one of you. Your prize? A big Spoon Full of Truth. To claim your prize, come back soon. Adios, from the Spoon.

DRINKING AND DRIVING

ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH There's this Coors beer commercial where this guy (Pete Coors) takes a stroll through, what it's safe to assume are the Rocky Mountains. He gazes into the camera and says something to the effect of "Some beer makers look out their window and see sky scrapers and buildings, (a smug pause as he admires the scenery) and some don't." Well, Pete, the last time I checked, your beer tastes like shit. And, not that I'm an expert of brewing beer or anything, but I didn't realize the view from the brewery window effected the flavor of the beer so much. Good thing I have top notch brewers like you to let me in on these industry secrets. I always thought the flavor came from other things, like...I don't know, ingredients? In my humble opinion, I think you might wanna spend a little less time staring out your windows and a little more time...oh I don't know...Fucking working on your beer??! Personally, I don't care if the brew master at my favorite brewery looks out on the Rockies, a city street, or two dogs fucking, as long as their beer doesn't taste like they just ate a bunch of Rocky Mountain snow and relieved themselves in one of the vats. I REALLY STICK IT THEM The new Coors Light commercial really lives up to the standard set by its' original Coors counterpart. The commercial is all this old footage of the past 39 Superbowls. Then they superimpose this big-ass, freezing cold train, carrying nothing but "Rocky Mountain Refreshment," over all of the sports footage. Whenever the train passes by, it shows fans in the stands, enjoying the action, and a cold Coors Light. Then, at the end, there is some babble about how fans have been enjoying Coors Light and the Superbowl for years and years. Hmmm? Why could that be? Because football fans usually have very high standards when it comes to the flavor of the beer they consume every Sunday in mass quantity? Normally when people think of football fans they think of their penchant for healthy eating and totally overlook their taste for a full bodied, great tasting, 80 calorie beer. Those guys get a bad rap. If that's not the reason football fans have been enjoying Coors Light and football together for so long, then what could it be? Couldn't have anything to do with the corporate partnership that Coors Light struck up with many of the venues in the NFL long ago. So that fans had no choice but to spend their eight bucks a beer on a cocktail of shit-beer and water. Nope. Couldn't have anything to do with that. I know that if I was the type of guy who was shelling out eight bucks for a beer, and it was gonna take me QUITE a few beers to get as loaded as most of these fans get, I'd have to convince myself that shit-beer tasted good too. Or I'd probably have a fucking heart attack thinking about it. I bet somewhere in a nice corporate board room (over looking the Rocky Mountains no doubt) there's a bunch of stock holders betting each other on how much they can possibly charge for a beer, making it taste as bad as possible, while still get people to buy it, and act like they don't care. I'd like to go force feed them all a big hand full of yellow Rocky Mountain snow. BIASED? WHO ME? There are those who will make the argument that I'm just hatin' on Coors because my last name is Miller. To those of you, I say, prove it. It's true Miller is the Champagne of Beers. It's true that it has a much more bold and manly name. A name that commands respect and awe whenever it is uttered. It's true that the Miller Brewing Company doesn't look out over the Rocky Mountains. It's true that Miller doesn't own a big, digital, silver train, that can travel back in time, to Superbowls past, to corner the market on football fans, in underhanded fashion. It's even true that, contrary to unsubstantiated Internet rumor, Pete Coors is not leaving his position at Coors to work full time on a "bad taste to high cost" ratio betting scheme for Miller stockholders. But none of these things could persuade a man of the truth, a man of such high journalistic integrity, a man like, me, from straying from the absolute truth, that Miller is just better than you Coors. I called it. Miller, the official beer of being better than Coors...and calling them out on it. Miller, good call. AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT It's not enough that I have to be insulted by the beer companies, now the car companies feel the need to insult me as well. In a new Jeep ad, a jeep is shown motoring through some tough outdoor terrain, while the Jeep announcer guy boldly states that Jeep can handle anything you can dish out. Right at the same instant the announcer is saying this, fine print appears at the bottom of the screen that says, "Professional driver on closed course. Do not attempt." So what's the message here Jeep? That your automobiles can take whatever a professional driver on a closed course can dish out? Sounds a little too rugged and outdoorsy for a city boy like myself. You crazy, think-outside-the-box, professional drivers, on your unpredictable closed courses, may enjoy risking your lives while pushing a fine motor vehicle like a Jeep to the limits of its' capabilities; but it sounds like too much car for a regular old guy like me to handle. What the fuck Jeep? Did you think you could put one over on me? Maybe the majority of Jeep owners aren't multitask efficient enough, to watch your commercial and read the fine print at the same time. Thankfully, the yellow Earth sun has given me special powers, enabling me to decipher the top-secret Jeep code. And what did I learn? Jeeps can't handle shit. Some advice: Jeep, get a new ad slogan and some cars that can actually handle serious off-road adventures. Guys with small dicks: Need to show the world just how small your penis is by driving a gas-guzzling, fine tuned, off-roading machine to your center city, high-rise office? At least George Bush still gives you a tax break for driving a Hummer. SFOTADD: SPOON FULL OF TRUTH AGAINST DRUNK DRIVERS Here at SFOTADD we are always striving to come up with new and creative punishments for drunk drivers. Whenever we are able to combine the suffering of drunk drivers, with good old fashioned fund raising, we feel it is our civic duty to do so. That's why this week only, live on pay-per-view, we are presenting: Drunk Driver Automobile Death Derby. First, we let all of our contestants spend three full hours in our "Open Bar, pre-race preparation" room! The booze-hound who can suck down the most hooch will win a five-second head start in the race. Then we load them all into seatbeltless cars, with one-star crash ratings, cut their brake lines, and let them zoom around an oil coated race track. The last one to successfully survive flying through the windshield (as an added bonus the folks at Folgers Coffee have secretly switching the windshield safety glass, with ordinary, and therefore more painful, regular glass) wins an all expense paid trip to Detroit, the motor city. Once there, they will spend six days, seven nights in a lovely burned out shell of a Ford Taurus in downtown Detroit. All the proceeds raised from the pay-per-view will go to the families of the victims, these monsters harmed while driving drunk. Stay turned next month when we blind fold more contestants and have them drive through a live land-mine field, backwards. SFOTADD: If you drink, and drive...we'll fuck you up. (No real drunk drivers were harmed in the writing of this story) JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY WITH MY HOMEBOY JESUS Whether today finds you back at school, work, or happily unemployed, sitting at home on the couch, eating pop-tarts and watching The Price is Right in your underwear, I salute you. You readers of Spoon Full of Truth have begun another long week in the dark shadow of the Bush Regime as they try to answer the age old question: WWJDI? What Would Jesus Do If...he had the most powerful army in the world at his disposal? No system of checks and balances like an unbiased Congress, or a hard hitting, truth seeking, media? No accountability to the leaders of other powerful Nations who refuse to stand up to him? No opposing political party (with a bold name, something like The Superfriends, or The Democrats) who could find even one man or woman brave enough to stand up to him? He had a very lucrative oil deal between his family, his friends, and the leading families of other countries who house and fund the very terrorists he claims to be fighting a war against? He had two fat, drunken daughters who couldn't get a job, let alone a date, if their daddy didn't have an endless supply of political strings to pull? He could boldly break any law he wanted to, and could get away with it, because he claimed to be doing it all to protect his countrymen? Yes, as you sit at your job, in class, or at home on the sofa, the Bush Regime is working hard at answering these very questions. So the next time you find yourself searching hard for the answer to question you just can't seem to solve, be happy. Be happy that your leaders have put aside silly, meaningless things, like healthcare, the environment, equality, education, and privacy, to deal with the real question that burns so hotly inside each and every one of us: WWJDI? GOT A FEVER? If you're ill as can be from the sickning, infectious lies of the mainstream media, come back soon for another Spoon Full Of Truth. It's good for what ails 'ya.

THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY

ADVERTISING GONE WILD I'm a late night person and an avid television watcher. I'm also like most other heterosexual men out there. I like girls. And I like it when they go wild. But if I have to sit through one more fucking Girls Gone Wild commercial on late night television, I might be leading the charge to force these 18 year old sluts to put their shirts on. OK already, we get it, girls have tits. Some of them like attention. Some of them use their tits to get attention. I'm not exactly sure that classifies them as having gone wild, but for now, I'll play along. The television stations obviously get paid every single time they air the Girls Gone Wild commercials because they seem to air more than the fucking shows I'm trying to watch. Every single commercial break. Sometimes twice. And it's always the same commercial. Sometimes they play it back to back. The worst part is, due to the F.C.C. "protecting" the American public from seeing any nudity on TV, they don't even show you the girls actually getting topless. Look, if you want me to buy one of your tapes, show me the girl one or two times and then take her away so I'm forced to pay to see her again. Don't show her face 500,000 times and then ask me to buy videos of her. By the time I've watched four late night shows, I've seen these girls faces enough times to make me want to kill myself. I think from now on the Girls Gone Wild people should pay me for every time I have to sit through another one of their fucking ads. In an attempt to meet them half way, I will accept payment in the form of paypal or titty pictures (which can be mailed to spoonfulloftruth@aol.com) IMAGINARY FAN LETTER OF THE WEEK With all the imaginary fan mail letters I've been getting here at SPOON FULL OF TRUTH, I thought it would be fair to recognize this accomplishment by sharing one of them with you today. Here it is: "Dear D. Jacob Miller, your blog is wonderful, creative, thoughtful, truthful, and frankly, my reason for living. Until you began this literary marvel a few short months ago, I had lost all reason to live. Since discovering, and religiously reading your blog, my life has changed in many positive ways. My boss at work promoted me because he said I suddenly seem smarter. Where I used to be a dud with the ladies, I have now become somewhat of a pussy magnet. After sharing your work with others I developed a large number of friends. In fact my calendar is full through August of 2012. Most of all, I don't feel alone anymore. Please don't ever stop writing. Without your insight, the world will surely be lost. Sincerely, Your Imagination. BETTER KNOW YOUR BLOGGER In an attempt to connect with my readers, I'm going give you a glimpse into the world of D. Jacob Miller. Please keep your hands and feet inside the car and do not stand up until the ride has come to a complete stop. The following is a list of several (but not all) of the things I dig: Music! Dancing, My Wife, Small lounge-type nightclubs, Hiking, Sports, Theater, Violin, Cooking, Writing, Being overly silly, Camping, Reading, Pancakes at 3am (breakfast food at anytime other than breakfast really), Pajamas, Running, Bars, Random Road Trips, Traveling, Photography, Snow, Parks in the City, Pugs, When people fall down, Intoxication (by whatever means you choose), I love you Mary Jane, When pretty girls smile, MILLER beer (the name more so than the taste), The Zoo, Comedy Improv, "Canadian Pudding", Doing things I know I shouldn't, Perogies, Falafel, Irish Car Bombs (Although I don't like Guinness otherwise), Larry David, Jon Stewart, Bill Maher, Cheese, Cuban Cigars (Thanks to my younger brother), GI JOE, Dense Fog, Fondue, Haunted Places, Being Right, Being reaaaally Wrong, Your Mom, Places that don't let you smoke inside, Good sex, Fruit, Cold Weather, Swimming in the Ocean, Being really smart, Other smart people, Witty banter, SARCASM, Having the world's largest penis, Lying and telling people i have the world's largest penis, My Shore House, My Friends, Other people curled up next to me, making the world's best guacamole, Eskimo kisses, Watching clueless boys hit on girls, Watching stupid girls fall for it, Sleep-overs, http://www.spoonfulloftruth.com/, and Shameless self promotion. I THINK THINGS ARE MOVING A LITTLE FAST Look just because I told you a few of my favorite things doesn't mean we're like best friends now or something. I mean, you're nice and all, but I hardly know you. I'm sure that you're a really great person, I just don't have time for any new friends right now. No, don't do that. It's not you. Really. It's me. In fact, you're right at the top of my list for potential new friends. Yes, I promise. As soon as I have an opening you'll be the first person I call. I swear. Really? You do? I'm flattered. But I'm sure you just think you love me and you're really just misdirecting your love for my blog into a false feeling of love for me. No, it's OK, you can keep reading it, really. We'll pretend this never even happened. Your secret is safe with me. IS THIS RETARDED OR IS IT JUST ME? Stop putting the fucking cans of soup and other heavy items into the bag on top of other easily damaged items like bread and fruit. Yeah I'm talking to you retarded guy in the checkout lane. I'm all for people of lesser intelligence working. Otherwise 80% of the people who live in the "Red" states, would be out of work. But I'm talking about people who are legally, mentally retarded. Retarded people are generally very upbeat. They make great "greeters" in stores like Walmart and Target. But stop letting them fucking bag my groceries in the grocery store. Every fucking time I get the retarded bagger they put the bread at the bottom and the heavy shit on top and I have a smashed, useless loaf of bread when I get home. Just stand there, and smile, and I'll bag my own fucking groceries and everyone will be happy. So to recap, I am all for retarded people having jobs, as long as they are actually able to perform the functions of that job. And yes, I'd like fries with that. I'M CALLING YOU OUT FAT BOY I was attempting to hook up a dvd player to a TV in our den yesterday, so I could watch a movie while I went for a run on our treadmill. I found that I was missing an RCA cable, and decided to head over to the closest store I knew would carry them, Radioshack. There is a Radioshack on Chestnut Street in Philadelphia, between 15th and 16th Streets. This story takes place there. I entered the Radioshack and was greeted by a man behind the counter who asked if he could help me. I told him what I needed and he turned to the 350 pound salesman behind him and asked him if he'd heard what I had said. Tubby said he had. He huffed and puffed his way to the front end of the store (much closer than the back end of the store), looked blankly at the wall, and told me they were all out of them. Discouraged, but not yet ready to give up, I decided to look around myself. Within two minutes I had found three whole racks full of the very RCA cables I was looking for. Obviously this behemoth was not working on commission. I looked over at the counter, he was eying me up. Did he suspect I was on to his rouse? Were my pockets filled with jelly doughnuts? Not wanting to become this man's lunch, I decided not to press the issue and instead began the transaction to purchase the cable. "Did you find everything you were looking for?" the much smaller man at the register inquired. "Yes I did find it" i emphasized. "Do you need batteries with this?" the tubby clerk asked, as he placed my purchase in the bag. Did he fucking think I needed batteries? Was this the world's only RCA cable that ran on batteries? Had I somehow failed to read that on the packaging? I kindly told him no, I did not need batteries. Now I'm sure the majority of people who shop at Radioshack aren't the brightest folks on Earth, but don't lump me in with them. I think I'm smart enough to know what things I need to buy when I go to the store. If I need batteries, I'll fucking buy some batteries. I didn't ask Tubby if he needed a good weight loss program, just because he had obviously lapped me in a fat race. But I am calling him out. You're the first person on the "SPOON FULL OF TRUTH call out list," fat-ass Radioshack guy. Next time you don't want to waddle your quarter-ton frame the whole twenty feet to the back of the store to check on a product for me, just say so. But you were about as sold out of RCA cables, as your video collection is full of exercise tapes. Fuck you for lying. WHERE HAS HE BIN HIDIN'? So there's another Bin Laden tape. Big fucking deal. Do you think it makes the evening news in the Middle East every time there is a new George Bush tape? George Bush and Bin Laden are pretty much the same guy. Both think they are doing what is required by their beliefs and religions. George Bush blows people up, attacks other countries, kills people unjustly, breaks the law, and claims to do it all in the name of "freedom and democracy, and winning the war on terror," To the people of the Middle East, George Bush is a terrorist. He even terrorizes his own people. I'm sure Bin Laden thinks he's just fighting the war on terror too. In the same way that Osama attacks the U.S., Dubya attacks other countries (Iraq ring a bell?) Both men are loose cannons who think that they are fighting terrorists. The fact is, when two people believe two different things so strongly (as these two men do) neither will ever back down, and neither will ever find a middle ground. Personally, I hate them both. I'd like to see them both locked in a room and forced to fight to the death (it might be fun to lock them in a house together for two weeks first for the new season of the Surreal Life) I just don't see how people can vilify Bin Laden, and respect George Bush. It's all semantics. Tomato, tomato. Bin Laden, Bush. THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY Everyone enjoy the weekend and make sure to check back next week. Because a Spoon Full Of Truth is on everyone's new years' diet. Tell your friends. They'll be sure to thank you later. Also, please check out the last blog "SERIAL KILLER" as I have posted twice today.

SERIAL KILLER

PREVIEWS PREVIEWS I am sick and tired of going to the movies and seeing previews for movies that aren't coming out anytime soon. If it's coming out next month, great, tell me all about it. If it's January, and it's coming out this summer, tell me about it THIS SUMMER! It's like going to your favorite restaurant and having them tell you what their specials will be this summer. I don't care what they'll be this summer, what can I have right now? I have enough shit to worry about without having to put upcoming movie releases on my calendar just so i can remember when they are coming to theaters six or nine months from now. Get it together Hollywood. MURDER IN THE FIRST I was watching some documentary on serial killers this afternoon and a psychiatrist they interviewed was talking about how the serial killers have no remorse about whom they hurt and who is effected, as long as the action makes the serial killer feel better themselves. It got me thinking about two guys I know who don't care who they hurt or how many people suffer as long as they are happy. You might know them, George Bush and Dick Cheney. How many people have suffered, how many people have died just so these two renegade cowboys can get their kicks? The number of U.S. soldiers killed in combat is climbing dangerously close to the total number of all the people killed in the 9/11 attacks. And why? Because Dubya likes playing G.I. Joe with real soldiers? (and who are we kidding, all of those soldiers lost are just like toys to that overgrown eight year old anyway) Because Dick Cheney was afraid his first hundred million dollars would get lonely if it didn't have another hundred million to cuddle with at night? These two are no better than Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer. They blab on and on about the "greater good," when in actuality the greatest good that could happen is if these two criminals were tried for their atrocities against the world and the citizens right here at home. Maybe Barbara Bush could hang a nice picture of her son in his prison jump suit right next to the pictures of him in his air force flight suit, his cowboy hat, and walking hand-in-hand with his Saudi boyfriend. I smell a new series of trading cards. AMERICAN IDOL I was watching the first episode of the new season of American Idol with my wife the other night and she commented on how mean Simon Cowell is to some of the people who try out for the show. I disagree. If you're a music producer, and some kid walks in for an audition and just doesn't have what it takes to make it, what's wrong with telling them that? If I ran a modeling agency, and some fat, ugly girl came strolling in the door, I wouldn't give her some constructive criticism like "hey why don't you go home drop 500 pounds, work on your face, and come back in a year." I'd tell her she should choose something she was more suited for, like competitive eating, or sumo wrestling. Why give tons-of-fun false hope? Yeah yeah, I know, fat girls need love too. That's exactly why we have fat men, and the visually impaired. Simon is just telling these people what any other music executive would tell them off camera, "there's just 2 things you're missing to make it in this business: a marketable look, and talent." These idiots know what they are getting into when they try out for this show and the biggest disservice isn't when Simon lays out the truth for them. It's when their parents and friends don't have the balls to tell them that they aren't good enough to make it beforehand, sparing them from embarrassing themselves on live TV. In the meantime, I'll enjoy watching the masses of under-talented youth, getting a big old spoon full of truth. KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS As you loyal readers already know, I hate NJ beaches. But this isn't a story about that. This is a story about a day at the beach in Delaware. As many of my earlier years blur together, I can't tell you exactly how old I was when this occurred. If I had to guess, I'd say I was about eighteen. I'm not one of those "go to the beach and spend all day laying on the sand, working on my tan" kind of people. In fact, sand kind of disgusts me. I don't like the feeling of anything sticking to my skin, which is pretty much sand's M.O. A typical day at the beach for me around this time in my life went something like this: check out the little 5 & 10 type stores along the boardwalk, play some skee ball, go for a swim in the ocean, get some ice cream, go home and shower all the sand and salt off as quickly as possible. If it was a really hot day, I might be enticed to take a second dip in the sea upon completion of my ice cream. This particular day was hot. Very hot. The kind of hot where the sand burns your feet when you walk across it. We staked out our place on the beach, stripped down to our trunks and swimsuits, and headed for some much needed relief in the ocean's cooling waves. The waves were larger than normal that day but I welcomed the turbulence. Sitting in a calm ocean is fun for about five minutes. Waves are like the ocean's built-in entertainment. My friends and I swam around, jumping over waves, occasionally mistiming them and getting slammed to the beach by the rough surf for quite a while without incident. I was facing the shore, trying to find my friend who had been pummeled by the previous wave, when without warning a wave nailed me from behind. It not only took me by surprise, but took my swim trunks as well. Luckily for me, the trunks snagged on my big toe. As I sat in the ocean, naked, trying to carefully maneuver my hand down to my foot to retrieve my shorts before a wrong move sent them floating out to sea forever, I began to panic. What would I do if they got away from me? How would I make it back to shore, the beach littered with people, without being seen? Why didn't I have a foot long penis? This certainly would have been a good excuse to show it off. As I pondered these great mysteries another wave crept up behind me and sent the trunks sailing off of my toe right into the hands of my friend who happened to be swimming towards me at that exact moment. I had been saved. I quietly redressed underwater and headed in to shore. I had finally put my seventh grade sex-ed teacher's advice to go use, I had managed to keep it in my pants. I BID YOU A FOND FAREWELL I hope you've enjoyed another big Spoon Full Of Truth...I bet you know someone else who would too. What better time than now to work on your sharing skills?

WHAT I WANT (PART 1)

FUCK THE FORMAT I'm changing up my format today people. This blog is all about things I want, so listen up. I want to go back to my wedding weight. Being festively plump is nice for turkeys, but not so nice for me. I want Villanova to win the National Title this March so I can finally have a team of mine win something that matters. I want a dog. A pug would be great. So would a basset hound or a beagle. I'd even take one of each. I want some serious junk-food. There's a place in PA that now serves a 15 pound cheeseburger. It should probably come with a side of emergency surgery. I want a Democrat to stand up to the MADNESS that is the GOP. Is that too much to ask? You'd think that the prospect of becoming the next President of the U.S. would be incentive enough. I want to be the President. I want to go back to the civil war and just let the South become it's own country. What do we need those morons for anyway? They can put Jesus and Dubya on their money and fucking your "purdy cousin" would be the national past time. I want it to snow. What's with these 60 degree temps in fucking January? Oh right, global warming. That can't really exist could it? I mean George Bush wouldn't trash the environment just to make more money for his family and friends would he? What's next? Spying on the American public? I want a really good alcoholic drink that tastes just like watermelon. I like watermelon. I like getting drunk. If you can put a man on the moon, make a fucking drink that gets me wasted and tastes like watermelon. I'm waiting. I want to win the lottery. Not one of these shitty two million dollar ones. I wanna win one of the mega 250 million dollar ones and I don't want to split the jackpot with anyone. I want my own private jet. I'm sick of spending all this money to travel. Why the fuck should it cost so much? I want some serious ups. I don't even think I can reach the backboard, let alone the rim. I wanna be a 5'10'' white kid that can fucking throw down a windmill dunk. Then I wanna dunk on Shaq. I want T.O. to be as good off the field as he is on the field. Then I want him to resign with the Eagles and win the Superbowl. I want people to learn how to drive. How did half of you get your license? Got friends at the D.M.V.? Learn how to drive or get off the road. I want a license to run people over with my car and actually get "points" for it. You know how sometimes when you're driving and some stupid old lady steps out in front of you and your friend goes "50 points for the old lady"? I wanna be able to run the bitch down and then cash in my points for some new bad-ass driving music. I want my own theme song and I want a band to follow me around and play it whenever the mood strikes me. I wanna stop procrastinating so much and actually finish half of the. I want banks to stop charging overdraft fees. They have enough fucking money. If you need to lend me $20 here and there so what? You're a fucking bank! I want a time travel machine. I'd go back in time and fuck with people. I might even go back and fuck your mother while she still looked good. Trip on that. I want marijuana to be legal. Everyone smokes it anyway. Everyone gets high on something, why not pot? I want doctors to make house-calls again. When I'm sick, the doctor should come to me. The last thing I want when I have a fever of 102 and a massive sore throat is to trek out to the doctor in the middle of winter and spend 40 minutes in the waiting room with all the other sick people, spreading all of our sicknesses around. I want a permit to slap anyone at any time. Sometimes that's all a person needs to stop being such a dumb fuck. Sometimes it'll just make me feel better. Sometimes it's just funny. In any event, I want it. I want diabetes cured already. If I can't have it cured, I want George Bush, his two ugly daughters, and his emotionless wife to all get it. Then maybe we can get some stem cells targeted at fixing the problem. I want Bill Clinton elected King of the U.S.. Obviously our current political system is shit, why not try something else. He won't live forever anyway. So maybe he didn't inhale...but it was a start. If Clinton was King we'd have a giant budget surplus and we'd teach proper blow-job technique to girls in school. And trust me, some of them could use it. I want Arnold Schwartzenegger to get some voice training? Isn't he supposed to be an actor? Don't you think he could "act" like he doesn't have that awful accent? We should start an island for people like him and Sean Connery. The island of actors who can't change their fucking accent for even one role. I want dishes that clean themselves. Enough with dishwashers. Just clean yourselves and then put yourselves back in the cupboard until I'm ready to use you again. I'm talking to you soup bowl. I want my Mom to not have to work so hard. That woman works her ass off and doesn't get one-tenth of the credit she deserves. I also want her to find the contractors who worked on her house and kick them in the nuts. I want cereal that doesn't go stale. I either eat the entire box in one sitting, or half the box sits around and eventually goes stale. I want a box that'll sit in the cabinet until I want it and then be as fresh as the day it was made. I want my wife to know how beautiful she is. She's gorgeous and she doesn't know it. I want superpowers. Flying would be good. Invisibility would go a long way. I'd also like some super strength and telekinesis. I want to be a poker shark. I want to appear to be a terrible player and then hustle people out of millions of dollars. I want a self cleaning bathroom. If I can't have this I would also take a sexy topless 18 year old girl to clean it for me. I want the Yankees, NY Giants, and Villanova to all win titles in the same year. I hate the Giants but if all 3 teams won in the same year it would make my dad SO happy. I'd love that. I want a free cell phone with free minutes. I'm sick of paying all this money to talk to people. I want some banana pancakes. I'm hungry and they sound really good right now. I also want banana syrup. I want the fucking rain to stop. It's January, if it's going to do anything, it should snow. Mother Nature get your act together. I want to be the best looking man on earth. You had a good run Brad Pitt but now it's my turn. There's no shame in being second place to me. I want an indoor swimming pool with a bad-ass water slide. No, ten bad-ass water slides. And I don't want anyone to piss in the pool, ever. I want the right to park my car anywhere and anytime and everyone else just has to deal with it. It would make running errands so much easier for me. I want to get a haircut and have my hair stay that length until I decide otherwise. I'm sick of having to get it cut so often. I guess I'd rather have it this way than be bald though. I want bald people to stop wearing hair pieces and getting terrible hair plugs. You're not fooling anyone. And don't get mad if I stare. Of course I'm going to stare, it looks crazy. I want my own blimp. I'm afraid of heights and would probably never use it, but I want one just to say I have it. I want my own Zoo but all of the animals would be very friendly to me. Even the lions. I could just go to my Zoo and play with all of my animals. It wouldn't have snakes though. I hate snakes. I want a breakfast buffet in my home. And a really good chef to stock it for me. I want them to bring back the old G.I. Joe cartoon and have a channel that runs nothing but that. And maybe the Thunder Cats. I want all of my friends to get LARGE government grants to just hang out with me. Then we could actually see each other and not have stupid things like work and school stand in our way. I want more people to read my blog...so help me out and share it with anyone you'd think would read it (whether they'd like it or not). I want to stop writing now.