by Wilbur Witt
I’ve tried for two days not to write about Wiener’s wiener, but it’s just too good! When he paraded his wife up there in a press conference and started telling about how his texting was an ongoing problem, and his wife standing by his wiener, OMG, he must have an enormous wang, that’s all I can say. And nobody was laughing! Now folks I’ve done some dumb crap. I mean like get drunk at a party and say something so stupid the next day I hoped to wake up dead so at least everyone would feel sorry for me, but I never, never took a picture of my dick and emailed it to anyone! I don’t think mine would impress anyone anyway, but that’s not the point!
This guy was on Capitol Hill! This guy wants to be mayor of New York! When I visualized him in the halls of Congress by day, and snapping pictures of Mr. Happy by night, I gotta admit…I had to wipe the tears out of my eyes. One reason I didn’t write about it at first is I just knew this story was some kind of liberal trick to sucker in people like me. But the more I considered it, and IMAGINED the logistics, I just had to chime in. Think about it. First he has to get the thing up. Now that takes a little work. So he arranges that. Then, position the camera. SNAP! Then send it to an Internet contact! Yeah, yeah, someone like that could probably run New York. I wouldn’t send that to FRENCHI, and I KNOW her!
This is a clear case of everyone trying to be politically correct. No reporter dare says, “DUDE! Why’d you send a picture of your dick to an Internet chick?” And, I’ll no doubt take some criticism just writing this article, but remember, I didn’t DO this! I’m just laughing about it. This will be a short one today with probably no follow up, but just make a note; people in public office are not supposed to do this sort of thing, but then I’m just a simple old’ boy from Austin, so what do I know?
Once upon a time there was a man. He bought a small piece of desert in West Texas. He, and his wife dug ditches to bring water to the plot and planted corn. The first crop failed. They even considered giving up but, miraculously the next year the crop came in. Not a lot, nothing to sell, but they killed a cow, and with that, and a few bushels of corn they survived.
The next year they split the crop between corn and some wheat, enabling them to sell some and reinvest the money thus acquiring a few more acres. The wife had a child, then another, and another so that eventually boys and one girl were milking cows, tending the fields, and allowing the farmer to buy more and more dessert, which he quickly irrigated, planting more, expanding more, and when old he could sit on his porch and his land was literally as far as the eye could see. He’d gotten into politics, and was instrumental in damming up a small stream, producing a lake, so that no one would have to scratch out ditches as he and his wife had done some forty years before. With the advent of water grass and trees took root, and farmers’ crops never failed.
One day, while enjoying an iced tea with his grand daughter the local preacher dropped by. The old farmer rarely went to church, but this didn’t stop the preacher from coming by every so often to try to “save” him. The two sat on rocking chairs drinking tea and gazing at the acres of corn, the corrals full of horses, and the children playing all over the yard.
“God is indeed wonderful,” the preacher said.
“Yes, yes he is reverend,” the farmer was always soft spoken, and polite.
“Isn’t it amazing what God, and man can do together?” the preacher continued.
The Farmer refilled both glasses, lit his pipe and said, “Yeah preacher, but you should have seen this place when God had it all to Himself!”
During my experiences with all these Nigerian beauty queens I ran across a hacking technique geared for Facebook. I’ve mentioned this before, but for those who missed it I’m going to repost.
You’re on Facebook, bopping along, and suddenly a page appears. Looks official, has all the colors, fonts, and wording, and it’s telling you in order to proceed you must re-enter your log in information. Now, if you do nothing will appear to happen. You’ll wait to see what’s coming up and after a minute or two you’ll “backpage” and there Facebook is, all prim and proper. You’ll breathe a sigh of relief and go on about your business. You’ve just given your user name and password to a hacker! The page you saw was a simple form like the ones you fill out searching for items on the Internet to purchase, etc, but instead of sending back to the originator your preference on bedrooms it has gleaned your log in information, and Kunta is feverishly ripping your identity up one side and down the other.
I fell for this! And not because I was stupid, because I was busy. I was conversing with four Nigerian scammers simultaneously and when the page popped up I just clicked the information and went right on, but I noticed two things. Now I’m a MacHead, ok. The colors were slightly off, and the focus was too. We Mac people get all screwed up about such things and will recalibrate our displays in a heartbeat. When I backpaged the display was correct!
The solution? If, like me, you were just too busy to notice, and filled in the blanks restart Facebook, NOW! Go immediately to your account information and change that password! I did this, and almost immediately got a private message from one of my “girl friends” asking what was wrong? Didn’t I love he/she/it any more? Like the old axiom says, when you throw a rock into a pack of dogs the hit dog always runs.
While we’re on the subject, let me give a refresher course on Internet girlfriends from somewhere “over there.” Rule number one is NEVER take serious any contact from Nigeria or Ghana, for what ever the reason they say they are there. They are there because they were BORN there! They get up in the morning, get in their car, which looks a lot like yours, go to some call center and begin to run accounts. Some are sophisticated and some aren’t. Some have the ability to carry on complicated conversation and others, well, I’ve described depraved sexual advances that would embarrass the Marquis de Sade, and the response is, “Uh yeah.” I’ve told one I just did three lines of coke and had three high school cheer leaders kidnapped in my garage and the answer was, ” So glad you have friends.”
And they change shifts! Just like Austin! I chewed on one scammer like Juicy Fruit two nights ago, catching them dead to right and made them cyber-bleed (thanks for your assistance Master Chief) and the very next morning had a message from the same scammer, “My love!” If I ran one of these call centers I’d at least have the team members keep accurate case notes.
The next rule is so simple it should be somewhere in the Bible. Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever, (did I say ever) send money to anyone you meet in a romance on the net! And it always comes down to that. That’s the sting. No matter how detailed, or believable the story line is there will always be a sting. That’s why they’re there! The request begins small and surprisingly reasonable. Remember, you are not the only love of their life. One scammer was caught working eighty-eight accounts that he was pumping at the same time. And you get mental image of these people looking like all those “Save the Children” spots you’ve seen on TV. These guys get up, and make a ton of money, and hang out in a Vegas style setting. They are superstars to their friends because they have tons of money and make a fool out of what they consider fat, rich, dumb westerners. Oh yeah, Americans are not alone. Brits, and especially Aussies are on the list, too.
When they ask for money simply refuse. Or, better yet, have a phony Western Union number and bounce em all over Accra trying to cash it. If you accept one fact you will be just fine. There is not one honest person in Nigeria or Ghana, hell, just make it Africa. No matter how believable it is it is always a scam, and most of the time it is always a man. So, if you get off on cyber sexing Big Daddy Idi Amin, dooooooode!
I use the cyber for my own entertainment, and not what you think, you pervs out there, I have a real girl called Frenchi for that. No, I see how far I can get them to bend reality realizing fully well that my mark is probably communicating through translation software. That in itself will screw them up, evidence I told one, “I’d really like to bang you,” to which I got the response, “Bomb?” I type so fast, and I am a writer, I’ve considered submitting my logs to the Guinness Book of World Records for cyber sexing the most Nigerians at one time! One particularly funny note, the other night I mistakenly sent the wrong message to one. I was having an argument with one, he had actually confessed to me what he was, but was explaining how he had to support his family, which I have no problem with, and I sent him the message meant for another account that I was talking with, describing a sexual position I’d seen in the Karma Sutra. He responded automatically, “My love!” Guess he was working too many accounts, too.
Now, this all sounds funny, but there’s a down side. Right here, in beautiful, downtown Killeen, Texas, a local businessman sold his business, and emptied his bank account to fulfill the dreams of his Nigerian “girlfriend!” But then Killeen is off the charts. An esteemed member of the Board of Realtors here showed up to meet his 13 year old friend with a six pack and a pack of condoms and got to meet MSNBC. Go figure!
If you follow these simple instructions you’ll never get hurt. And all jokes aside, the emotional bonds can be real. I’ve caught myself having real conversations with scammers about mundane subjects, but the sting always comes. “The robbers took all my money and the baby is hungry.”
When you go looking for love on the Internet you wind up in Africa
When you wind up in Africa you meet a girl who looks like Paula Abdul
When you meet a girl who looks like Paula Abdul you become attached
When you become attached you send all your money to Nigeria
When you send all your money to Nigeria your friends laugh their asses off at you at Starbucks the next day.
Don’t let your friends laugh their asses off at you . . .get Dish Network!
Stand Your Ground
The most soft spoken, nicest guy I ever met was a thrice convicted felon probably responsible for ten shootings. In private conversations he would relate his exploits to me and frankly it sounded like a wild west show. What he never did was stand his ground. In a demanding situation he would retreat, play a coward and concede any point. He was wonderful with children.
People confuse standing their ground with self defense or the application of second amendment rights. The only time you must stand your ground is when there is a twelve foot wall behind you that you simply cannot scale. Standing your ground in a street that you do not own is not standing your ground, it is confrontation. It is in effect saying, “I’m here, I’m in your face, and I’ll kill you to protect this spot of sidewalk. Now, I’m not saying that if someone crashes through your front door you must run out the back. That person has attacked and you are perfectly within you rights to assume the worse and protect your life and the lives of those around you.
To stand your ground in almost any other situation is comparable with the old time gunslinger that everyone in town tiptoed around. What George Zimmerman did not understand was when you stand your ground there are some people who will knock you off that ground. That, and using deadly force is a major, complicated, legal decision. Even a rattlesnake won’t use deadly force until cornered. Most will slither away.
Stand your ground is an evolution of self defense assuming confrontation. And it applies to all. George Zimmerman was standing his ground, protecting the neighborhood and Trayvon Martin was standing his ground, thinking he had every right to walk to the store. See where this is going. It is no different than two adversaries squaring off in the streets of Tombstone in 1888. And I totally reject the age thing. Billy the Kid was well known to be an excellent dancer. A 19th century John Travolta. He also took a shotgun away from a deputy and put 16 dimes in his chest. George Zimmerman is a violent man. Trayvon Martin was a violent man. I hate to be the first one to tell you urban pilgrims this but when you put two violent men in a confrontational mode you ALWAYS get the event similar to the one in Sanford, Florida that night.
Will ending stand your ground end these things? Nope! But it will clear up the bullshit ambiguous legal maneuvers perpetrated by shyster lawyers. A person has a right to defend his life. Hell, even a dog has that right. But there will always be people you should pass on by. When Liberty Vallence walked the streets the men would step aside.
I have always ridiculed when a person is exonerated of a criminal charge and then gets charged with a civil rights violation but this time I relent. O. J. Was found not guilty. Jury said he wasn’t there, didn’t do it, next page. It is beyond question that when George Zimmerman confronted Trayvon Martin he did indeed violate Trayvon’s right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. If a joint, an Arizzona tea, and a bag of candy was what Trayvon considered a happy night it was none of Zimmerman’s business.
Anger, suspicion, fear, and all the other things came into play that night. Imagine two gunfighters swaggering into the street for a showdown. Both have guns. Neither has a real reason to be in that street, but times being what they were both “stood their ground.” The very fact that both were there constituted a threat. The instant one began to draw the other was obligated to graduate to self defense. I know a bunch of you more enlightened folks out there will differ with me, but it’s that simple.
Should Zimmerman be persecuted? George stepped into a role that he can never shake. And just like the Clantons rode into Tombstone that day and met up with the Earps at the OK Corral, there will always be someone out there waiting to try him out. I suggest he goes to the practice range regularly. This is the law of the jungle people, and the more you perfume it the more it smells like someone just crapped a Christmas tree.
But it is not all white people’s problem. It is not the responsibility of every Mexican in the US. So, when you riot, when you break windows, hit ladies in the head with a hammer be aware; there’s lots of room in George Zimmerman’s shoes and for every New Black Panther there is someone out there more than willing to stand THEIR ground, and try you out!
The human trait of taking things at face value can be a detracting, if not outright dangerous trait. Accepting other’s explanation of reality surrenders one’s reason and choices to another mind of whom you cannot possibly have a complete knowledge of. When one says they are a skeptic the untutored mind tends to think that they don’t believe in anything but such is not the case. A skeptic believes in what the can ascertain to be real and true as filtered through their life’s experiences.
If you observe something that appears to defy the forces of nature verily, verily I say unto you that you just don’t understand the trick. People can’t float in the air, no one can read your mind, and all lawyers lie like Persian rugs. Where skepticism comes in is when presented with a manufactured reality the skeptic steps back and makes sense out of what has been presented in the light of their OWN life experiences, not the presenter’s.
My nephew is totally convinced that he has experienced a spiritual event that while sitting on a porch rocks began to fly over a nearby fence from some spiritual realm heretofore unknown. He really believes this and argues fervently about it. I, however, from my experience, know that if said rocks are flying through the air some force is causing that to occur and it is not angels, demons, or Bapu the elephant boy. Same with table taps, automatic writing, and floating, playing trumpets.
Submit for your approval George Zimmerman. The reality of the event that has mesmerized Al Sharpton is a seventeen year old boy got shot. Now that’s the truth! There are three positions. The Zimmerman view, the Martin view and the truth, and never the twain shall meet. At one point a shot was fired and a person died. Years ago, while arguing with a prosecutor, I asked him if the truth of the case mattered, and his reply is forever tattooed on my memory. “The truth has no place in this building, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be!”
I’m not even going to try to explain what happened that night only to tell you that what came out of that jury room was NOT the truth! That’s impossible. What happened was six women had to come to some negotiated conclusion. If you will note the lawsuits are beginning to form. If the “truth” came forth why must we reexamine it? As Ponticus Pilate reminds us, “What is truth?” Truth is what you perceive it to be at a certain point in time. There were six “truths” in that jury room and what came out was homogenized truth. The civil lawsuits will define a different truth. Like with O.J. Ok, he didn’t kill his ex, but he hurt her feelings when he didn’t kill her. Now, I’m just a simple old boy from Austin but I can’t stick my head up my ass that far!
Look at the truth we do know. Don’t walk through Sanford Florida at night with a hoodie on. Boy! I’ll bet that statement went over like a lead balloon. OUCH, OUCH, slap dem bees, slap dem bees! I personally wouldn’t eat a Big Mac in Sanford, Florida. I’m an old white man, but I do have long hair and a few gay friends. I also don’t like my hometown of Shreveport. Matter of fact I don’t like the deep south in general. But, that’s my “truth.” I hang out in Austin and Ocatillo Wells. I tend not to get tarred and feathered near as much there.
The value of skepticism? Just like I know those rocks didn’t levitate over that fence I know that none of those lawyers presented the truth and the jury, realizing they had just been served a big heaping plate of bullshit, called an end to the whole sorry mess, and pitched it before the public with about three hundred million “truths” waiting out there. My truth for the day? Frenchi looks real good in shorts!
What was in Trayvon’s hands?
by Wilbur Witt
Most interesting observation I made this morning while listening to the 911 recordings at the Zimmerman trial. George makes a statement that Trayvon has “something” in his hands as he (Trayvon) approached him (Zimmerman). The media jumped on this making a lot of hay about the Skittles and Arizona tea, enhancing the “Leave it to Beaver” image they were painting of Trayvon Martin at the time, but previous testimony by EMT personnel states that a can of Arizona tea was removed from Martin’s hoodie pocket in order to facilitate CPR, while the other object, which was soft, was not removed as that particular object did not impede administering assistance. My question is, what did Trayvon Martin have in his hand, and moreover why was his other hand in his waistband? I submit that before the confrontation Trayvon ditched the object in his hand in a nearby bush because it was not a suitable weapon and used his fists instead. In further speculation that object could have been a “shim” commonly used to “Jimmy” a car door. Most certainly, if he were not actually drinking the Arizona tea he would have pocketed it for the walk home and more than that would not be carrying the Skittles in his hand, thereby occupying both hands for the walk, so what was in Trayvon’s hand?