Relationships are difficult to understand. What sets off attraction is a complex maze of chemistry, psychology and desire. You have no control over these factors but you do have control over how you react to them. Chemical changes in the brain have been supported by studies that can be verified. The heart can only be verified when it is broken.

You’ll never get over love. The pain you feel at separation will never go away. I fell in love with someone a long time ago and even today the mention of her name will mist my eyes. One so loved becomes larger than life and they become a very real part of your being.

No medicine, no philosophy, no religion will save you from this. They are all empty words that will not quiet your passion nor sooth your soul. If there is betrayal or if the love is unreturned you will seek oblivion. As time passes this too will pass but the feeling will always be there just below the surface.

Man has an intellectual ability to understand this and if not rise above it at least live with it. These feelings fulfill you. Great art comes from these feelings. That’s what makes us human. There should be no guilt because you loved a woman. Love is never wrong, it’s what you do with it that makes it right or wrong. Good love will build you up and a bad love will tear you down.

There are those who will try to reason you away from your feelings but their words will fall upon deaf ears. You, and only you will make the choice to walk away and it will hurt. Willie Nelson wrote, “If guilt is the question, then truth is the answer, and I’ve been lying to me all along.”

There is no rhyme or reason to love. It is something you must work out for yourself. The good news is that one day the sun will rise and though the one so lost will always cause you a moment of reflection it will sustain you not destroy you and you will in fact be stronger for it.

You may never find another or perhaps you will but the most important thing is to find yourself. Once you discover yourself you will understand that no woman, no religion or no mantra can make or break you. Be YOU! Everything else is only commentary.

Check out Wilbur Witt at


You Wanna Nother Beer?

I’d like to expand on an idea here. I was talking about stupid people, and I apologize. It’s rude to call people stupid. Everyone tries to adapt to their circumstances. I think I’m on the ball, but if you out me in the Outback of Australia with a boomerang I might not fare so well. The Aborigines would be pointing, and laughing at “Stupid.”

That having been said, I want to share some things. I was talking about a certain girl I know the other day and she’s a real person. I’ve been trying to reach that stupid bi . . .there I go again! Ok, I’ve been trying to school this lady without much success, and it exasperates me. Did you ever have a dog that simply refuses to be housebroken? Ever try to walk a cat in a leash? Well, she’s like that. But, you try. The beautiful thing about trying to bring someone like that up to par is that the very act hones your own skills. By explaining to them, you in effect explain to yourself! But, this has to occur within yourself. No one else can do it for you. It’s like going to a psychiatrist, and they try to tell you things about yourself that YOU don’t know. Of course you agree because you’re paying this clown to talk, but that doesn’t mean it works. Still, I’d like to throw a few tid bits out there.

Over the last couple of years I’ve taken several tests, just for the fun of it. It has been pretty well ascertained that I have an IQ of around 180 or so, and my literacy and comprehension is in the top one percent, but for God’s sake keep that between us, I’m trying to construct an image here! You aren’t born smart, you GET smart. If you have the moxie to absorb and retain knowledge over the years, and enough intelligence not to step in front of a bus, at some point in time you get old enough to at least present the illusion of wisdom simply by the act of having survived for so long. In the light of this fact I have made several astute observations.

I never try to talk “down” to someone. I avoid confrontation and heated debates. My reasoning is simple. When a heated debate ensues it only goes to follow that each side is firmly entrenched in their position, else there wouldn’t be such a discussion in the first place! Neither side is going to budge. Now, when one side has absolutely no foundation for their position you are spitting in the wind trying to change their mind because they don’t know where they are in the first place, so how in the world will they have an inkling as to where they are heading, especially in a debate?

When talking with this person, or persons, I naturally base my discourse on life experiences. You will note that when your opponent is without foundation they HAVE no life experiences, and if they had any then they certainly didn’t learn anything so they fall back on two things ; some untested theory they burn in their own crazy mind, or some theory another person, with equal savvy deposited into their brain that made absolutely so sense when it was dreamed up, and makes even LESS sense when recited by the recipient thereof! Since you are arguing with Mickey Mouse you will never win, and they will never change their mind. If you are having this type of discussion with a woman my advice is to keep pouring her drinks until you both arrive at what she’s really good for. THAT’S a theory she’s got pretty well figured out. Yeah, I know, Mothers Against Procreation . . . deal with it!

The ideas I try to impart result from having lost my butt so many times that it is a miracle I can even use the toilette anymore. I should be on one of those bags they sew onto your side. I’ve honestly made three fortunes, and lost them all (now who’s stupid?) and I’m working on the next. I’m playing a numbers game. I out lived the first three. I’m hoping, at my age, the next one will outlive ME! You see, that’s what retirement really is. You hope you’ll cash in before the money does. And I just love life insurance. Some insurance company is betting that you’ll never die, and if you do, you win! I have made tentative preparations for my funeral. I want to be cremated, and pulverized into a very fine powder, and mixed with the body powder used by the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Anyway, I digress.

One must be very careful when trying to school a fool. Yeah, I really said that, but hear me out. First of all, you must avoid three syllable words and don’t even consider four. This Texas girl has key phrases that she can process quite well. “You wanna nother beer?” That always assimilate that quite well. “I think you’re real smart,” is another. That works because with all those Loony Tunes swirling around in her head she thinks she’s a GENIUS! You have to know what you’re dealing with. Never ever tell her she’s stupid. You must remember that she has everything figured out, and should she become confused she will always text the boyfriend who is riding her child support like a biker on a new Harley, which very well may be what the boyfriend is anyway.

You also must understand the culture, and that is a dynamic which changes with each generation. I am particularly amused by the relationship categories that evolve. Time was you had wives, ex-wives, and girlfriends. The girlfriend most likely being the reason you now have an EX-wife in the first place! Now we have a new designation. “My baby mama!” No, I did not make a typo, there is no “s” behind the word “baby,” that’s how they say it. So, we have a man married to a woman. He has a girlfriend, BUT he’s got someone else on the trot line solely for making babies. “My baby mama!” Figure THAT one out, ancestry dot com!

Another lengthy debate I have endured is adultery. I have had one of these critters look me dead in the face and try to convince me that when she’s married to one guy, SEEING another guy on the side, it’s NOT adultery UNLESS she gets pregnant! Your response to such an assumption? “You wanna nother beer?” Now mix in the circumstances of a military marriage where she says while the above rule applies to her, if HE should stray even the Nth degree it is ALWAYS adultery and, of course, SHE gets his entire paycheck for a period of three years which leads us to another legal axiom.

The “contract” marriage. Lo das, lo das, tu jour Lo das! Let me educate you a bit on this one. The area around any military base is filled with people who have absolutely NOTHING on the ball. They spend their days making their living from the military payroll when is as steady as a clock. In this group,there is a subset. If a service member is married he (or she)’gets a little bonus on payday. Basic Allowance for Housing. Now, if the marriage is for all the right reasons there is nothing wrong with this, but enter another variation. A couple gets together and arrives at a plan. Service member gets the BAH, and spouse gets military benefits! Talk about capitalism! Now they’re not, like, in love. This is a “contract” between them to milk the system, AND like my little misguided friend will quickly point out, THIS is the reason that SHE is not committing adultery with previously mentioned boyfriend. I’ve actually been told that one of these little jewels was planning to tell a judge to his face, “We had a contract marriage and HE broke the deal!” I crappith Thee NOT!

So, anyway, I continue to work with these people. Why should I do this. Is it for the edification of mankind? Is it because I’m driven by a sense of duty to try to raise them to a standard by which they may eventually succeed and become good, prosperous members of society? Naw! The way I see it if some chick is that whacky, and there’s no changing. . . . “You wanna nother beer?” Hey Dudes and Dudettes, I have told you if you’re going to dig dirt on me, better bring a dump truck.

Sgt Wilbur’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band

Every now and then one sits back and something comes along that’s just so dog gone entertaining you can’t just let it pass by. First, a little background. Anyone ever hear of Nigeria. Well, that’s the ultimate “N” word if there ever was one. That country is so corrupt it would make Al Capone shake in his shoes. They wouldn’t know what the rule of law is if someone handed it to them in a paper bag. And Internet scams abound. Think about this. A place so crooked they named a scam after it. Poor France only had a fried potato named after it. Anyway, there is one particular scam that is my favorite. Folks, I have a GIRLFRIEND!

It goes like this. Couple days ago a lady asked to friend me on Facebook. Now, I’m sixty-three, well past my prime, been married a half dozen times or so, therefore I take anything I can get, so I accepted. I do have guidelines. They have to be human and I prefer them not to be sporting an oxygen bottle. Anyway, she thanked me, and frankly I didn’t think much of it. Then the PMs started rolling in. My Spidey sense wasn’t on at the time so I answered in a fairly civilized fashion. Her messages were articulate, but I noticed that right away she told me she was searching for a “soulmate.” Then she wanted to text me on my phone and sent me her number, which was based in Riverside, California. Ok, that’s cool. But, I noticed her “location” was now Washington, DC according to her Facebook profile, an account which disappeared fairly quickly after our first contact. She explained to me that she was a woman of wealth, recently divorced, and she was an international antiques dealer. Friends and neighbors, I wasn’t born yesterday, and I wasn’t born in the dark! I CALLED the number, and naturally it was not receiving calls at that time. Now, for the uninitiated, the reason for this is these numbers have two purposes. First, of course, for texting. After the initial contact the scammer will move on to text or email, blocking or removing the original Facebook page so they can set the trap for the next loved one Then next is to provide some kind of assurance to the “mark” that the owner of the number is in country. There will never be an answer at the other end because if that should ever happen the idiot will very quickly display a gender problem. Oh yeah, it’s a dude!

Ok, so at this point I’m becoming aware that this is most likely not going to be Mrs. Wilbur number three, but let’s add something else to,the mix. I’m an asshole. That, and it being a holiday weekend, I’m sitting in my beautiful home with an unlimited supply of Jim Beam and cigarettes! The prose from Facebook to text to email shifts wildly. Shift is the key word here. As the shift change comes about over yonder one will quickly realize that they are dealing with not one, two or possibly even three individuals. You can even time their breaks if you know time zones and watch for changes in style. They have pre-written emails, which are usually well written but shallow. The emails I began to receive we’re chock FULL of declarations of undying love for me! No matter what I wrote back more flowery letters would return. Then, of course, my “friend” wanted to converse with me on Yahoo Messenger. I have several Yahoo accounts and I have one in particular for just this kind of thing. Uh, I’m an elderly, lonely, wealthy widower.

Let me now introduce you to something called “Translation Software.” The job of this little jewel is to enable the sender to converse on text in a language that they are totally unfamiliar with. This software doesn’t pick up on slang, and most CERTAINLY doesn’t decipher TEXAN! After quite a few slip ups on the other end, including very long response times (as the software does its thing) I decide to do my litmus test for the Nigerian Scam. It goes like this.

The scammer does realize that it is an American holiday. Also, they are fully aware that anyone hanging on their every word is most likely alone and elderly. So, it only goes to follow at some point they will ask, “What are you doing tonight?” They expect a short reply, easily figured out by the computer whereupon they can enlist any one of a number of provocative answers designed to pump up the blood pressure of the lonely old fool on the hook. Well, THIS lonely old fool is sitting on a leather couch with Frenchi and a cocktail,
but I digress. When asked the question I respond, “I’m running down to Austin to pick up a couple grams. We have three high school cheer leaders locked up in a bedroom, and I’m going to smoke up their brains and have a me and my friends throw a gang bang.” Now please bear in mind the only thing the translation software picks up clearly is the word “friends!” After the usual delay I get, “So glad you have friends there!” Ruh Roh!

Now my friend must move to phase two. Since “she” is an international antique dealer she must make a trip to purchase products for her many outlets, and of course, the only place such items may be obtained is none other than, you got it . . . NIGERIA! (This is my surprised face!) She is departing today and will communicate with me after arrival in that country. Now here’s how the sting works. Never mind that I have made it abundantly clear that I’m too broke to pay attention, she has looked at my Yahoo profile, and is foaming at the mouth, picking out new cars My new friend will spend about a day or so texting me and then disaster will strike! It will be anything from being robbed to complications with export taxes for purchased items. He/she/it will ask me to send money via Western Union to assist, which will of course be given back upon return to the states, whereupon we will get married and live happily ever after!

These people invariably work out of Lagos. Very big seaport town! Bad traffic, crowded streets, the whole nine yards. The way the scam is supposed to come to fruition is a MoneyGram is sent and is picked up at any one of MANY outlets. Here’s the part being an asshole helps. I have a Western Union MoneyGram claim number that is as dead as fried chicken! That’s the claim number I send to the love of my life. Now, let’s drop all pretense. HE will dispatch a runner from the call center ( that’s right, this is run like a business) to the nearest location to pick up the loot. Naturally, the number won’t work, but remember, we’re not dealing with rocket scientists here. I just told this idiot I was about to commit not one but THREE felonies designed to put me in jail until Jesus came back and was told, “Cheery-o!” They will assume the first place is simply broken and will proceed to bounce all over town trying to cash in. Oh yeah, I always make the amount around ten thousand dollars to peek interest. Now this is a little like looking for a brisket sandwich in Manhattan on a rainy night, ok? Usually takes about two days and a couple tanks of gas before I get the obligatory text, “Why you do this me you no love me long time!” At this point I do explain to the scammer that he has been had. They never understand plain English and will rant and rave continuously before moving on to the next mark. Then, in about six months or so, I’ll get yet another friend request on Facebook. Ennie, meanie, minie, mo . . . Catch a Nigerian by the toe . . .

Don’t Give A Damn Itus

I was reading Dr. Phil’s book, Real Life. Going through the last two years have been real life for me so I thought, “Good old’ Dr. Phil will show me the way!” I settled on the chapter called Adaptability Breakdlown. As I read through the chapter I couldn’t find anything that applied to me. I read the chapter on anxiety. Nada! Tried fear, mental disorders, and existential crises and there were no matches, but I KNOW I’m messed up! I mean, who the hell loses a wife, five grand kids, three mansions and a Mercedes and walks away with a martini and a silly grin on his face? Then it hit me. Now, work with me here I’m blazing new psychological territory. Just like when they changed shell shock to PTSD, I have a whole new disorder, born of the recession, customized for the 21st century. Don’tgiveadamnitus!

The way I see it a lot of us are so far gone that we know it just wastes time worrying about it. We’ll probably not live long enough to ever see a dollar worth a dollar again, and forget about employment. Hell! Even bank robbers can’t find gainful employment. The banks are full of Federal Reserve Notes. Want a big nice car? Forget about it. Good luck filling the tank. So you get a don’t give a damn attitude.

The only constant is women. If you’re a standard issue heterosexual (which I am) you can use some pretty moldy, time honored lines on younger girls to achieve at least a conversation. To wit:

1. “I’m really a homosexual and just want to be your friend.”
2. “I have ED but I like to cuddle.”
3. “I am afraid of contracting an STD so I will only like good conversation.”
4. “It’s called a Martini, and the beautiful thing about it is the Vermouth neutralizes the gin. The more you drink, the more sober you get”
5. And last but not least, “My God girl! You’re young enough to be my grand daughter. What kind of a man do you think I am?”

Older women are actually better, but they’re too blamed smart! You can’t EVEN whip any of the above lines on them. The best you can do is compliment their cooking. Young girls don’t cook. Ordering at McDonald’s has been developed into a fine art, don’t let a young girl order for you unless you like salad!

But, a healthy, young woman will generally relieve Don’tgiveadamnitus because at least the relationship between a man and a woman in private has remained unchanged unless you’re in California and we know where that went. The cure for the syndrome? Well, there is none. Sadly it’s terminal. Once you fully realize the futility of worrying about stuff that you can do nothing about nothing can ever pull the wool over your eyes again. You actually become, well, FREE!

So Dr. Phil needs to add a chapter to his book. Maybe two. A chapter on women and martinis would be nice.

Wine, Beaches and Two Solo Cups

Wine, Beaches, and Two Solo Cups

I’ve never thought of myself as a lady’s man, in fact I’m about as far from a jock as you can be and not be gay. After the events at Santa Barbara I picked up on several news clips and articles talking about the killer’s lack of success with women drove him to kill and the empathy for his situation finally building up to where nerds were saying they “understand” the pressure the man was under.

Let me start out by saying women are human beings. They are not organic based devices that have magic buttons where, when pushed in the proper sequence, their clothes fall off. That’s what all these dating sites and so-called experts would have you believe. I listened to an idiot (yeah I’m talking about you, Jay) who convinced me to go to POF (Plenty of Fish.) I was truthful on my input of facts about myself and got plenty of whales . . . OLD whales!

So this guy couldn’t get laid by twenty two. I didn’t get laid until twenty and even then I had to get married and make an appointment. She allowed me access on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I had to keep it to three minutes. Even to this day when guys are talking about some chick that’s easy I’m always the one she missed. I have no style. The best I can do is be a gentleman and that way when I strike out I can always play it off as being polite and respectful. Frankly I’m afraid of girls in Killeen. There are so many STDs in this town you have to find a girl young enough so that she’s not that experienced, but then there’s a catch 22 because there are laws about touching girls that young.

My best advice is to know for every nerdy guy there is a nerdy girl. For every guy who is worried about the size of his penis there is a flat chested girl out there who is right for him. I’ve been married five, no six times. One more and I’ll have used up all the tags on my Dear License. I really don’t want to get married again because I love getting up in the morning and doing what the hell *I* want to do. I don’t worry about relationships because I have a dog and I have to much fun watching young guys worming through THEIR relationships.

So don’t tell me that some guy tooling around SoCal in a BMW with an apartment and money in the bank couldn’t find a girl. Osama Bin Laden could find a date in Ocean Side with a bomb in each hand. I’m the worse, clumsiest, ED victim on the planet, and if you put me on a beach in California with a bottle of wine and two solo cups I will get laid!

Romeo and Julliette

Romeo and Juliette
by Wilbur Witt

“I don’t know! You hear me,” the man spoke into his cell phone, “I’m just here, and that’s all I know. ”

“When will I ever see you again?”

“Look, you keep asking the same questions, and I keep telling you the same thing. I told you I’m here, that’s it, probably for a while, and you calling me ten thousand times, blowing up my phone ain’t gonna change that! That’s why I get mad at you. You got me mad right now. I don’t want to be with you. Maybe you stop calling me all the time and after I work this out I’ll call you, but you gotta let me do it. Had to leave the house to talk to you. Walking in circles cause I don’t want no one to hear me arguing with you.”

“I just love you. Maybe I could come up there.”

“Are you crazy? I ain’t got enough shit in my life without you popping up?I got all this shit, and now you gonna just pop up?”

“You always so mean to me.”

“Mean? I’m mad ’cause you won’t let me breathe. I can’t keep my phone charged, now I’m walking in circles ’cause I don’t want my family to hear me arguing with you! You saying same thing over, and over, and over again, and ain’t shit I can do about it. You just keep on! If I hang up you’ll just call back ten thousand times. I’m so mad right now, and you keep me that way. Maybe you just let me be and we can work this out, ok?”

“I call cause I love you.”

“Well show me that love by giving me some space. Let me work this thing. Shit! Now there’s somebody staring at me! You done that. I’m looking so much like a fool somebody’s scoping me!”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. I ain’t from here? See, there you go again, with more dumb ass questions. You’re just pissing me off more.”

“You don’t know them?”

“Hell no! Some creepy-ass cracker . . .”


Wiener’s Wang

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?

Facebook hacking and Nigerian romance scams

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!

Moving Beyond DOMA

No matter what we may think a person’s private life is just that, private! As long as it’s between consenting adults, and harms no one, what happens in the bedroom is the business of the participants,mand I don’t care if it’s male-female, male-male, female-female, or Elder Smith and his four favorite wives, it is not the business of the government!

The natural order will dictate that most unions will be traditional, but having laws that demand parameters around sexual conduct will fail because when the lights go out you can’t read a law book. Little Johnny and Suzie will always meet in grade school and fall in love, but we cannot exclude those whom we simply do not agree with. Thinking about a homosexual union may disturb you but watching a heterosexual union disturbs me unless I’m the one doing the unifying.

Now that the Supreme Court has blazed the way to sanity perhaps we can concentrate on more pressing issues like privacy in our phone calls, being able to see a doctor and not invading countries because they pray to a different God.

To Punk A Nigerian. (The dangers of Internet translators)

If you ever doubt you’re talking to a Nigerian through a translator get a load of this. This is REAL. I just did it. These people don’t comprehend English and work in shifts, so it’s not written in stone you’re even talking to the same “girl” each time. Enjoy.

(Jenifer) hello

(Weird) Hi

(Jenifer) how are you doing today

(Weird) Getting along. Gonna do a couple lines and rest

(Jenifer) so how was your weekend

(Weird) oh, so so. Had an orgy and drank a lot.

(Jenifer) wow that good for you i was alone all by myself so I want to a friend

(Weird) Hey, maybe you can come over for a gang bang! All my friends would love to meet you!

(Jenifer) yea wish i can come over.

(Weird) Oh we’d love it. I want to be first. Hey I gotta go. I have two girls I kidnapped yesterday duct taped in the garage and I have to feed them.

(Jenifer) oh ok talk to you later

(Weird) Yeah, riiiight . . .