Making Love

My wife said to me the other night “how come we don’t make love like they do in the movies?”So I bent her over the table, smacked her on the ass, grabbed her by the hair, fucked her hard and came on her face….














Turns out we don’t watch the same movies

Liberty Bars

I joined the Navy when i was 17 and shipped off to Boot camp 2 months after my 18th birthday. I completed Boot and "A" School in Great lakes IL. From there i was assigned the USS Belknap in Gaeta Italy. I have been to damn near every country that has a shore or harbor on the Mediterranean sea. I was 18 when i arrived in Gaeta and almost 21 when i left. I grew up in Liberty Bars. I found the following article and thought you might like it.

Our favorite liberty bars were unlike no other watering holes or dens of iniquity inhabited by seagoing men. They had to meet strict standards to be in compliance with the acceptable requirement for a sailor beer-swilling dump. The first and foremost requirement was a crusty old gal serving suds. She had to be able to wrestle King Kong to parade rest. Be able to balance a tray with one hand, knock sailors out of the way with the other hand and skillfully navigate through a roomful of milling around drunks. On slow nights, she had to be the kind of gal who would give you a back scratch or put her foot on the table so you could admire her new ankle bracelet some "mook" brought her back from a Hong Kong liberty. A good barmaid had to be able to whisper sweet nothings in your young sailor ear like, "I love you no shit, you buy me Honda??"
"Buy a pack of Clorets and chew up the whole thing before you get within heaving range of any gal you ever want to see again." And, from the crusty old gal behind the bar, "Hey animals, I know we have a crowd tonight, but if any of you guys find the head facilities fully occupied and start pissing down the floor drain, you're gonna find yourself scrubbing the deck with your white hats!"
The barmaids had to be able to admire great tattoos, look at pictures of ugly bucktooth kids and smile. Be able to help haul drunks to cabs and comfort 19 year-olds who had lost someone he thought loved him in a dark corner booth. They could look at your ship's identification shoulder tab and tell you the names of the Skippers back to the time you were a Cub Scout.
If you came in after a late night maintenance problem and fell asleep with a half-eaten Slim-Jim in your hand, they tucked your peacoat around you, put out the cigarette you left burning in the ashtray and replaced the warm draft you left sitting on the table with a cold one when you woke up. Why? Simply because they were one of the few people on the face of the earth that knew what you did, and appreciated what you were doing.
And if you treated them like a decent human being and didn't drive 'em nuts by playing songs they hated on the juke box, they would lean over the back of the booth and park their soft, warm tits on your neck when they sat two San Miguel beers in front of you. And the Imported table wipe down guy and glass washer, trash dumper, deck swabber and paper towel replacer. The guy had to have baggy tweed pants and a gold tooth and a grin like a 1950 Buick. And a name like "Ramon", "Juan", "Pedro" or "Tico". He had to smoke unfiltered Luckies, Camels or Raleighs. He wiped the tables down with a sour wash rag that smelled like a billy goats crotch and always said, "How are choo navee mans tonight? He was the indispensable man. The guy with credentials that allowed him to borrow Slim-Jims, Beer Nuts and pickled hard boiled eggs from other beer joints when they ran out where he worked.
The establishment itself. The place had to have walls covered with ship and squadron plaques. The walls were adorned with enlarged unit patches and the dates of previous deployments. A dozen or more old, yellowed photographs of fellows named "Buster", "Chicago", "P-Boat Barney", "Flaming Hooker Harry", "Malone", "Honshu Harry", "Jackson", "Douche Bag Doug", and "Capt Slade Cutter" decorated any unused space. It had to have the obligatory Michelob, Pabst Blue Ribbon and "Beer Nuts sold here" neon signs. An eight-ball mystery beer tap handle and signs reading. "Your mother does not work here, so clean away your frickin trash.""Keep your hands off the barmaid.""Don't throw butts in urinal.""Barmaid's word is final in settling bets.""Take your fights out in the alley behind the bar!""Owner reserves the right to waltz your worthless sorry ass outside.""Shipmates are responsible for riding herd on their ship/squadron drunks." This was typical signage found in any good liberty bar.
You had to have a juke box built along the lines of a Sherman tank loaded with Hank Williams, Mother Maybelle Carter, Johnny Horton, Johnny Cash and twenty other crooning goobers nobody ever heard of. The damn thing has to have "La Bamba", Herb Alpert's "Lonely Bull" and Johnny Cash's "Don't take your guns to town". The furniture in a real good liberty bar had to be made from coal mine shoring lumber and was not fully acceptable until it had 600 cigarette burns and your ship's numbers or "F**k the Navy" carved into it. The bar had to have a brass foot rail and at least six Slim-Jim containers, an oversized glass cookie jar full of Beer-Nuts, a jar of pickled hard boiled eggs that could produce rectal gas emissions that could shut down a sorority party, and big glass containers full of something called Pickled Pigs Feet and Polish Sausage.
Only drunk Chiefs and starving Ethiopians ate pickled pig's feet and unless the last three feet of your colon had been manufactured by Midas, you didn't want to get anywhere near the Polish Napalm Dogs.
No liberty bar was complete without a couple of hundred faded ship or airplane pictures and a "Shut the hell up!" sign taped on the mirror behind the bar along with several rather tasteless naked lady pictures. The pool table felt had to have at least three strategic rips as a result of drunken competitors and balls that looked as if a gorilla baby had teethed on the sonuvabitches.
Liberty bars were home and it didn't matter what country, state, or city you were in. When you walked into a good liberty bar, you felt at home. These were also establishments where 19 year-old kids received an education available nowhere else on earth. You learned how to "tell" and "listen" to sea stories.
You learned about sex at $10.00 a pop -- from professional ladies who taught you things your high school biology teacher didn't know were anatomically possible. You learned how to make a two cushion bank shot and how to toss down a beer and shot of Sun Torry known as a "depth charge."
We were young, and a helluva long way from home. We were pulling down crappy wages for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a-week availability and loving the life we lived. We didn't know it at the time, but our association with the men we served with forged us into the men we became. And a lot of that association took place in bars where we shared the stories accumulated in our, up to then, short lives. We learned about women and that life could be tough on a gal.
While many of our classmates were attending college, we were getting an education slicing through the green rolling seas in WestPac, experiencing the orgasmic rush of a night cat shot, the heart pounding drama of the return to the ship with the gut wrenching arrestment to a pitching deck. The hours of tedium, boring holes in the sky late at night, experiencing the periodic discomfort of turbulence, marveling at the creation of St. Elmo's Fire, and sometimes having our reverie interrupted with stark terror.
But when we came ashore on liberty, we could rub shoulders with some of the finest men we would ever know, in bars our mothers would never have approved of, in saloons and cabarets that would live in our memories forever. Long live those liberties in WestPac and in the Med - They were the greatest! "Any man who may be asked in this century what he did to make his life worthwhile I think can respond with a good deal of pride and satisfaction, I SERVED IN THE UNITED STATES NAVY."

Free stuff

The folks who are getting free stuff,Don’t like the folks who are paying for the free stuff,Because the folks who are paying for the free stuff,Can no longer afford to pay for both the free stuff and their own stuff.

And, The folks who are paying for the free stuff,Want the free stuff to stop.
And the folks who are getting the free stuff,Want even MORE free stuff on top of the free stuff they’re getting already!

Now….. The people who are forcing people to PAY for the free stuff,Have told the people who are receiving the free stuff,That the people who are PAYING for the free stuff,Are being mean, prejudiced and racist.

So …. the people who are GETTING the free stuff,Have been convinced they need to HATE the people who are PAYING for thefree stuff because they are selfish.

And they are promised more free stuff if they will vote for the people who force the people who pay for the free stuff to to give them even more free stuff.

And – - – - – that’s the Straight Stuff

Two simple truths in life

SIMPLE TRUTH 1

Lovers help each other undress before sex.However, after sex they always dress on their own.
Moral of the story:

In life, no one helps you once you’re screwed.

SIMPLE TRUTH 2

When a lady is pregnant, all her friends touch the stomach and say “congrats”.But, none of them come and touch the man’s penis and say “Good job”.

Moral of the story:

“Hard work is never appreciated”

Understanding Derivatives

Heidi is the proprietor of a bar in Detroit . She realizes that virtually all of her customers are unemployed alcoholics and, as such, can no longer afford to patronize her bar. To solve this problem, she comes up with a new marketing plan that allows her customers to drink now, but pay later.

Heidi keeps track of the drinks consumed on a ledger (thereby granting the customers’ loans). Word gets around about Heidi’s “drink now, pay later” marketing strategy and, as a result, increasing numbers of customers flood into Heidi’s bar. Soon she has the largest sales volume for any bar in Detroit .

By providing her customers freedom from immediate payment demands, Heidi gets no resistance when, at regular intervals, she substantially increases her prices for wine and beer, the most consumed beverages.Consequently, Heidi’s gross sales volume increases massively.A young and dynamic vice-president at the local bank recognizes that these customer debts constitute valuable future assets and increases Heidi’s borrowing limit. He sees no reason for any undue concern, since he has the debts of the unemployed alcoholics as collateral.
At the bank’s corporate headquarters, expert traders figure a way to make huge commissions, and transform these customer loans into DRINKBONDS. These securities then are bundled and traded on international securities markets.

Naive investors don’t really understand that the securities being sold to them as AAA secured bonds really are debts of unemployed alcoholics. Nevertheless, the bond prices continuously climb, and the securities soon become the hottest-selling items for some of the nation’s leading brokerage houses.

One day, even though the bond prices still are climbing, a risk manager at the original local bank decides that the time has come to demand payment on the debts incurred by the drinkers at Heidi’s bar. He so informs Heidi.

Heidi then demands payment from her alcoholic patrons, but being unemployed alcoholics they cannot pay back their drinking debts. Since Heidi cannot fulfill her loan obligations she is forced into bankruptcy. The bar closes and Heidi’s 11 employees lose their jobs.
Overnight, DRINKBOND prices drop by 90%. The collapsed bond asset value destroys the bank’s liquidity and prevents it from issuing new loans, thus freezing credit and economic activity in the community.The suppliers of Heidi’s bar had granted her generous payment extensions and had invested their firms’ pension funds in the BOND securities. They find they are now faced with having to write off her bad debt and with losing over 90% of the presumed value of the bonds. Her wine supplier also claims bankruptcy, closing the doors on a family business that had endured for three generations, her beer supplier is taken over by a competitor, who immediately closes the local plant and lays off 150 workers.
Fortunately though, the bank, the brokerage houses and their respective executives are saved and bailed out by a multibillion dollar no-strings attached cash infusion from their cronies in government.

The funds required for this bailout are obtained by new taxes levied on employed, middle-class, non-drinkers who have never been in Heidi’s bar.

Now do you understand?

The best logic behind our nation's debt

You come home from work and find there has been a sewer backup and you have sewage up to your ceilings.


What do you do? Raise the ceilings, or pump out the shit?

Casey Anthony - Single mom of the year

How many months of man-hours did Florida police spend searching for little Caylee Anthony back in 2008, while her mother, Casey Anthony, knew exactly where the child's body was?
If you were the victim of a crime in Orlando, Fla., between July and December 2008, you should be enraged that the police couldn't prevent or investigate your crime because they were too busy looking for a missing child whose mother already knew the kid was dead.
It's a zero-sum game with police resources. Cops combing through the woods searching for a missing child are not going to be patrolling your street or arresting suspects.
From repeat domestic violence calls to Los Angeles car chases, hit-and-run drivers and the balloon-boy hoax, worthless louts consume vastly more law-enforcement resources than the rest of us. Cops in any town will tell you all the domestic violence calls come from the exact same homes, over and over again.
As long as we're looking for new revenue streams, how about billing these white trash low-lifes for their massive consumption of police resources? The dregs of society need to be assessed a fee for their abuse of government services and thrown in debtors prison in the unlikely event that they can't pay.
As I described in my last book, "Guilty," the leading cause of all social pathologies is single motherhood. One way or another, Casey Anthony's refusal to give up Caylee for adoption was going to cost society – and cost Caylee.
The statistics are so jaw-dropping that not giving up an illegitimate child for adoption ought to be considered child abuse.
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Various studies have shown that children raised by a single mother comprise about 70 percent of juvenile murderers, delinquents, teenaged mothers, drug abusers, dropouts, suicides and runaways. Imagine an America with 70 percent fewer of these social disorders and you will see what liberals' destruction of marriage has wrought.
A 1990 study by the (liberal) Progressive Policy Institute showed that, after controlling for single motherhood, the difference in black and white crime rates disappeared.
Meanwhile, adopted kids, on average, turn out better than even biological kids raised in two-parent families.
Of course, there aren't a lot of studies of adopted children because they aren't constantly mugging us. They're too busy running Oracle (Larry Ellison), the District of Columbia (Anthony Williams), or fantastic political websites, like Big Government (Andrew Breitbart).
One four-year study by the Search Institute in Minnesota found that adopted teenagers had greater empathy, higher self-esteem and more close friends than non-adopted teenagers in public schools, and were also less likely to engage in high-risk behavior, such as stealing and excessive drinking. In all, they scored higher than the control group on 16 indicators of well-being.
They were as strongly attached to their parents as their non-adopted siblings. Indeed, contrary to Hollywood movies portraying adopted kids mystically driven to find their biological parents, the majority of adopted teenagers rarely thought about the fact that they were adopted. (Apple's Steve Jobs has shown little interest in his biological father and corrects people who refer to his "adoptive parents," saying, "They were my parents.")
We could wipe out chronic poverty in America tomorrow – and the new iPad would be even more awesome, if such a thing were possible! – if only women would get married before having children or give up their illegitimate kids for adoption.
And yet, between 1979 and 2003, we went from about 600,000 babies being born out of wedlock, with about a quarter of them put up for adoption, to 1.5 million illegitimate births with fewer than 1 percent of them (14,000) given up for adoption. That's why Angelina Jolie and Madonna are constantly having to break up tribal wars to adopt Third World children.
A 2008 study led by Georgia State University economist Benjamin Scafidi conservatively estimated that single mothers cost the U.S. taxpayer $112 billion every year – in addition to asking the rest of us to keep an eye on their kids while they go clubbing.
We could have had two Iraq wars – Obama could have "saved or created" half a million stimulus jobs – at that price.
But in fact, Scafidi underestimated single mothers' burden to society by excluding additional costs of single mothers to poverty programs such as the Earned Income Tax Credit.
That makes his estimates very low: Single mothers are six times more likely to be in poverty than married families. More than 80 percent of homeless families are single mothers.
Scafidi's study also did not consider the burden single mothers place on law enforcement because of their higher likelihood to neglect or kill their children.
Eighty-five percent of mothers who kill their children through neglect are single mothers.
(Column continues below)


The plague of single motherhood isn't an inevitable decay brought on by stupid choices of the underclass. Destroying the family is the active social policy of liberals. They enjoy experimenting with other people's lives and leaving the taxpayer with the bill.
The mainstream media and Hollywood studios are constantly issuing propaganda about the joys and triumphs of single mothers.
Thus, for example, the noted scientific periodical Us Weekly celebrated single motherhood with an article titled "The New Single Moms and How They Do It," which delusionally proclaimed that the "sisters are doing it for themselves."
No, they're not. They're "doing it" at an enormous and unasked-for cost to every man, woman and child in America. They're doing it at incalculable cost to the children themselves, such as helpless, innocent Caylee.
A 2007 New York Times op-ed column about three gold-diggers fighting for custody of Anna Nicole Smith's illegitimate daughter said: "Surely this change is a welcome corrective to the injustice of traditional marriage laws and family values that stigmatized 'bastards' for life."
Except one can't help noticing how many more illegitimate children there are – and the accompanying child abuse, neglect, suicide, runaways and murders – now that the stigma is gone.
Ann Coulter's latest book is "Demonic: How the Liberal Mob Is Endangering America."
Read more: Casey Anthony: Single mom of the year! http://www.wnd.com/?pageId=319449#ixzz1RQhbbRVo