New Fan That Pisses on the Floor

I got it on Amazon, but the novelty has worn off. It's a floor fan for smaller rooms and it works quite nicely, but the mist is now very meek. 

 

Great otherwise but I am always fearful that it will explode. 

 

Fun Story: I never buy power banks but I was gifted one, and I always keep it on my desk, away from all my trinkets and whatnot. Those are mini bombs, which I am also afraid will go off on the unsuspecting ME.

Gutfeld! 8/10/26: The Red Eye Reunion

The Lineup: Terry Schappert, Sherrod, Julie, and Steve Cortes!

1 and a half Musketeers

From Gutfeld! 7/8/26

King of Somewhere Hot

Gutter clawed open the door of the van hastily, sticking out a tiny, mechanized grapnel gun. Two more white Chevrolet Blazers gained on them, crazenly swerving. "You ready?" he said to Ron, a foot out the door.

 

"No..." Ron replied. Before he could utter another word, Gutter stole him, and the two launched out, clinging onto the grappling rope. The heavy, anchor-like hook clobbered against a yellow tuk-tuk's exposed yellow frame, grabbing on. "The Consulate, please," Gutter ordered the worried driver. He dunked a few coins into the man's rattling change cup.

 

Mexicali Blues

"Let's do this thing," Gutter said, "Animal style." 

 

He aimed his revolver slowly around the hallway corner. There was a dimly lit row of lockers, sitting adjacent to a tinted checkpoint. A small, bulky camera at the end of the hall whirred, glancing back and forth slowly.

 

"Saguaro?" Mike tapped on his earpiece.

 

Ron looked up, taking nearly silent breaths. The shiny metal vent plates above rattled, and a scrabble emerged, growing louder as it neared. Dents, the size of a working man's boots, sank into the ductwork.

 

On the Far Side of the World

"Mike," Gutter radioed over from the Mustang. "There's a guy at your ten o'clock."

 

Gutter and the gang, Ron and Laura, circled past the Nugget Springs Casino, engine run low. It was a nice part of Mexicali, consisting of high rises, casinos, and restaurants, all forever owned and indebted to The Ring. The air on the streets still reeked of red hot chili peppers and some sort of burnt beef. A short man, donning a leather jacket, turned the corner, tapping on his ear.

 

"Everyone ready?" asked Gutter, loading a single round into his revolver. "It's either me or that cocky bastard." He looked up. "And, I hope it ain't gonna be me."

 

And I Bid You Goodnight

The Desert Tower. It rose somewhere on the outskirts of Jacumba Springs, off U.S. 50. The ground there was sacred, holding some sort of energy spiral of old beneath the sands. But, it wasn't sacred enough for Gutter not to step there. 

 

He pulled into town, alongside a Pueblo hotel. The palm trees whipped around, thrashing as he jumped out. The concrete felt good underneath his boots. He unlatched the trunk of his teal 1972 Mustang, and hooted. An M249 SAW machine gun stared back. 

 

"That's one of the nicest guns I've seen in a long time."  Gutter racked the ammunition belt, and punched in a few rounds. "Ka-ching!" he hollered. Laura grinned.

 

Spatial Reasoning

"Gutter..." said El Saguaro, leaning against a heavily graffitied wall. "Where's the writer?"

 

A flurry of yellow taxicabs, resale value ruined by thousands of scraped stickers, raced through the slog of Mexicali at the sight of a broken green signal. A pair of stained blue sneakers swayed in the breeze above the bustling junction, a mark of the cartel's bounds. On the other side laid The Ring's territory, a slump of earthquake-ridden high rises.

 

"You know better than messing with The Ring," Gutter replied, sipping on a light margarita. He was clothed in a short cut Hawaiian shirt to match his short, stout, and muscular body. "They'll get to Ron before the CIA realizes."

 

"If we team up," Saguaro flipped out a bulky envelope, "Everyone will get a punch at the Devil."

 

That thing can eat!

 

 

"That thing can eat!!" -Chef Gruel

Stella Blue

Gutter mumbled, "Sidebar," pulling aside Harold and the others. "You didn't tell us he was programmed to speak Portuguese."

 

"Well, I didn't know the specifics, exactly," Harold replied. His gaze shifted, flickering from the group to the troubled Columbus in the corner.

 

"In your face, Harold," Gutter said, turning to face Columbus.

 

From the aforementioned corner, the pioneer yelled, "O que você está fazendo?" He appeared to become increasingly irritated, even wielding a small saber at that point.

 

"Blackpoleon Blackaparte," Gutter eyed the guide, clarifying, "Harold, I need you to outflank the enemy fire."

 

Cannonball Run

"What a long, strange trip it's been," Ron muttered.

 

He looked up at Elmina Castle, the colony's limestone fortress, sat atop an ancient rock at the mouth of the harbor, surrounded by a towering battlement. Afront to them was the castle's main entrance, a large double plank door, seemingly made for giants. It was heavily fortified: iron wrought strap hinges, bars, and ring-shaped handles, were joined together by a sharp grate, rusted from the salty air.

 

A cast iron cannon, wheels half sunken in a puddle of sand, was rocked further into it by the loading of a bronze cannonball, to which Harold smiled. He then lit the thick fuse with the stroke of a dirty match, and off to the races it went. The spark hissed as it went, snaking from the stem, and into the black barrel. As it winded around, Harold attempted to steer the cannon toward the castle, barely able to tame the raging beast.

 

Changes in Latitude

"What coconut tree did we fall out of?" Gutter asked sarcastically. "Certainly not Kamala's."

 

Ron, along with Mike, Laura, and Gutter, stood atop a rounded, grassy bluff on the outskirts of the small settlement of Elmina. It was founded a decade before by the Portuguese to cement the lucrative and up-and-coming gold and ivory trade as their own.

 

There was a certain buzz in the colony: The Santa Maria, owned and captained by Christopher Columbus himself, was docked in the shallow harbor. His flagship, white sails completely unfurled, towered above all the other dinghies, schooners, and caravels anchored along the Benya River.

 

Faster Than the Speed of Love

"How's Kirby doing?" Joe asked, holding up his phone. "The little guy."

 

On his screen was an image of Stewie sleeping, taken through his bedroom window. The shot was partially obscured by the baby's mobile, made up of guns since it was bought in Detroit.

 

"Joe," Peter said slowly. "His name is Stewie."

 

"Huh," Joe muttered in response, "He looks like a Kirby, and I'm never wrong."

 

Ron asked, "Is your baby pregnant again?"

 

One if by Clam, Two if by Sea

4/23/26 - Thursday Night

 

Hey all, writing to you from the sun-drenched Ocean Mist Hotel in Yarmouth. It reminds me of the Oceanview Hotel (and Motel) from Alan Wake and Control. Partly because of the dual lamps right next to me...

 

Wish It, Want It, Do It

Ron, along with Meg, Peter, and Brian, piled into the Griffins' red station wagon. It was coated heavily with liquor and gasoline after the prior night's drunken attempt to set the world on fire. Weeds, both garden and the excitable types, as well as tulips, were found deep set into the rubber windshield wiper hatches, strewn about alongside clumps of dirt.

 

"Meg," Peter said. His eyes darted from his daughter to Cleveland's house, and then back to her. "You need to take a sharp right."

 

"Dad, I'm an adult now," she replied. "You don't need to worry about my driving anymore."

 

Gutfeld! 4/21/26

Gutfeld and Loftus' southern impressions...

 

 

What I Learned on Spooner Street

Special Edition: 4/20/26

 

-

 

Ron, trailed closely by Laura, knocked on the Griffins' red front door. He brought a burnt pan of meatloaf, drizzled with a cheap instant gravy mix from the local Mini-Mart. As Brian Steele opened the door, Laura's periwinkle floral blouse fluttered in the soft, warm breeze alongside her blonde hair.

 

"Hello my baby," Brian said upon seeing Laura, before adding: "Hello, Ron," as he welcomed them in.

 

Naked Unicorn 35

The Airport Bar Password...

 

★★★★★    

 

"Hey, Ron," Jamie said, leaning out of his driver side window. Ron turned around with a hopeful smile on his face. The comedian continued, "You won't know how lucky you are until you lose her," and rolled up his window. 

 

He circled around the lit-up fountain, tacked right in the center of a tiny oval field, and drove down Pennsylvania Avenue. The red taillights reflected off of the windows of the various storefronts lining the road, laying dark and deserted. A handful of spotlights beamed on the Capitol Building's dome, casting a mirror image of it onto the dark clouds.

 

Alaska's Finest

He was a story version of a person with a broken heart...

 

★★★★★   

 

"Jamie," the divorced looking man, quite evident by his pale blue button-down shirt, introduced himself. He stuck out his hand, knocking over a few beer bottles, with a wide grin spread on his face. "Jamie Lizzard. I'm Alaska's most famous comedian."

 

The writer replied, "Ron," as he shook Jamie's hand.

 

"What brings you to The Swamp?" the comedian asked. He mouthed to the bartender for a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Ron stirred around what was left of his Pink Rabbit, contemplating whether he should get another. He took a bite of the strawberry, sliced halfway on the rim of his coupe glass.

 

Party at the End of the World

United States Blues

 

★★★★★  

 

"I'm Uncle Sam," Ron joked to Mike and Laura. He wore a red and white blazer, along with blue suede shoes. "How do you do?"

 

There they were, having cocktails and wine, at a special version of the Congressional Ball, just around a month from the Fourth of July. Laura's silver sequin dress shimmered as the spotlights skimmed over the crowd. She matched with Mike, who wore a metallic gray blue suit, topped with a Stanzo fedora. Tin Man and Tin Woman.

 

Good Morning, U.S.A.!

Taking a dip into the Swamp...

 

★★★★★ 

 

"The President is looking forward to meeting you," an aide, flanked by two Marine Sentries, greeted Ron. 

 

She said it in a rather gloomy tone, since the prospects of nuclear winter seemed to be on the horizon. The writer stood next to Barb and Dr. House, shadowed by the White House against the golden glow of the rising Sun. Patriotic pillar buntings swayed and flapped in the wind, unironically nailed to the white pillars.

 

Life on the Flip Side

Ice cream not available.

 

A thunderous crack marked the arrival of the Mothership, emerging from the white, fluffy clouds above Las Vegas. The ship, metal panels flaming from reentry, banked right above the city, engulfing it in a large shadow. Two tri-finned steel disk-shaped fighter crafts deployed from the Mothership's hangar with a screeching roar, and dove toward the evacuation routes.

 

"Ron, before you go," Jimmy started, but was briefly interrupted. Three A-10 Warthogs, sent to intercept the Zetan attackers, flew down the Strip. Amidst the chaos, he continued, "Send my regards to the President."

 

Rags to Riches

Starring . . . . . Jimmy Haystack as the most dangerous man in the West . . . Dr. House as the High Roller . . .  Laura as the lady in the million dollar dress . . . Barb as the damsel in distress . . . Mike as the nifty sidekick . . . and Ron as the titular protagonist . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

"Are you the writer?" a Military Police officer asked Ron, opening the door of the writer's golden 1966 Cadillac DeVille. He was practically a walking billboard for recruitment with the blue uniform and armor, armbands, and white helmet, all stamped with a blue "MP." 

 

Ron noted the officer's nameplate, attached hastily to his tactical chestplate: "Benny Benson." Amused, the writer smiled, "Your parents weren't the most creative bunch, I take it," as he stepped out of the car and into the holy city of Las Vegas. He looked around in awe at the desert oasis: fountains, palm trees, and blooming agave plants lined the thoroughfare, spotlights perused the night sky, and the various casinos towered over him. 

 

Right Turn, Clyde!

(Dance Floor Blues!)

 

"I should have sold my 'Olds and bought me a jeep!" Jimmy Haystack chuckled, batting an eye at Ron, Mike, and Laura through the rearview mirror. Steering with his knees, he loaded rounds into the ammunition belt of his M249 SAW machine gun. 

 

"Has anyone checked in on Paul?" Mike asked, still covered in blood from earlier.

 

Dragged out of the lodge by the janitor and Laura, Paul was strapped to the roof of the car with bright orange lashing straps, much akin to a Christmas tree. The occasional thumping of his head on the ceiling, usually whenever Jimmy gunned the throttle, broke the silence. 

 

Life is a Dream

(The Fourth Installment of the Trilogy...)

 

"Give me your paper," Mike demanded, reaching over the pool table. The game room was lit by two dim lamps, hanging from the ceiling. A few red leather armchairs lined the log-cabin-esque walls, along with deer antlers and landscape paintings. 

 

"What? Why?" Ron asked from across the table.

 

"I don't know. What were you doing?"

 

Laura, the writing instructor, interjected, "Why don't we all just calm down." 

 

The self-proclaimed writer looked at him, thinking of an easy excuse, and replied, "I was writing." 

 

"Were you drawing pictures of my wheelbarrow?"

 

Midnight Spin

(The Third Installment!) 

 

"So, Barb, what do you do for work?" Rocky asked, opening his third bottle of beer. The night prior, Barb had accepted the park ranger's invitation to bathe together in the moonlight, and that was how she got in this quandary.

 

"I take photos of tractor bones," Barb chuckled. "And then I sell them to model luxury homes." 

 

Rocky smiled, "It's the kind of love you can't get rid of fast enough." 

 

The King of Late Night: Taking a Risk

"I remember being on the road, doing live shows with Tom Shillue, and he was interested in checking out the city we happened to be in, by foot. It was rainy and grimy and I had mentioned that I didn't want the hassle. He reframed my anxiety by turning it into curiosity. 'Don't you want to see what's out there? Greg, life is an adventure!' He said this with his eyes almost popping out of his head. He was right. Then we got mugged." -Greg Gutfeld (page 161)

 

For me, Joe, a good friend of mine, pulled me out of the slow lane, the lane where you live a "clean, boring life." And that's how I got in an odd place, putting my writing hand in a sugary, liquid-filled blue Jolly Rancher bag. He said something along the lines of "You could win a free prize" to entice me.

 

What was the liquid? Water? Urine, probably.

 

The bottom of the bag was covered with squishy, sticky, melted candy bits. I hit one, and then tried to maneuver around them like a minesweeper during World War 2. Or like Indiana Jones, dodging the squishy, blown up Aztec temples, also due to World War 2.

 

And that's also how I was pushed off a cliff, by Joe. Turned out he was a crazed German spy whose real name was Lars Einhoff, and was searching for the Ark of the Covenant. He made it pretty far, bushwhacking his way through the Amazon jungle, while I stood triumphantly on the cliff, holding the shiny golden box thing in one hand and a bunch of chips in the other. 

 

Lemonworld

(Sequel to 'Lemonade'!)
 
"Barb, remind me why we have to have dinner with a park ranger again," Ron commented sarcastically as he straightened his orange tie.

"We are doing this because the doctor said that you should be active, especially after your fall," Barb replied. "Besides, when was the last time we dined out?" She smiled. That was her way of saying, "Just go along with it."
 

One More Thing!

Gutfeld! 1/16/25

The Lineup: Kennedy, Walter Kirn, Sherrod Small, and Sean Davis!

 

Lemonade

"We're going to be late for writing class!" Ron exclaimed.

"No, we won't," Barb replied, kissing him on the cheek before letting him go. She held open the large, mahogany doors for him and said her goodbyes. Behind Ron, the 12-foot doors creaked shut as he scanned the room briefly. All he saw was a sea of writers seated on brightly colored yoga mats. Weird posters on the wall featured shadowed figures: some smiling and others faced away from the blinding light of the sun through the patio door.
  

Factorio DEMO

Craig Perko got me into Factorio! He talked about cocaine and logistics, so that got me hooked (not literally, I'm CLEAN).

His comments on the game:

 

"A batch can be jumpstarted using an assembler and trash to make a few units of cocaine. From there you can easily split both fruit types into jam, then combine the jam into chicken nuggies, which can be made into vast amounts of cocaine.

 

The problem is, we can't simply combine everything into nuggies, because iron and copper require jam to get started, with a 2% success rate. So if we're doing iron/copper, we need to grind jam until we've seeded it, but we need the nuggies BEFORE it's seeded-"

It's Five O'Clock in New York City (Thanksgiving!)

"I'm Greg Gutfeld along with Kayleigh Mcaneny, Harold Ford Junior, Jesse Watters, and our thanksgiving table is a coaster. Dana Perino. This is the Five."

 

After dinner, do you go for a walk or take a nap?

 

Harold: We used to have a great touch football game as kids. Now my kids are getting old enough they would go in the back and do a run around.

Greg: Your life is like one big Newport commercial. A guy throwing a frisbee, another guy throwing a football.

 

Tetlin Junction's Forty Mile Roadhouse

 

When coming into Tetlin Junction from Tok, travelers would have to cross the Tanana River on the original, 1943 cantilever truss bridge. During the winter, the bridge would blend into the snowy surroundings quite easily due to its white hue. 

 

For better or for worse, Tetlin Bridge was replaced in the mid-2010s by a newer one located 200 feet north.

 

Around 2 miles from the bridge and where State Routes 2 and 5 (Alaska and Taylor Highways) meet, you can see what's left of the quaint Forty Mile Roadhouse. In its heyday, the lodge had 10 heated log cabins, a cafe, a Chevron station, and modern bathrooms. In addition to this, they offered a "complete garage service" consisting of warm storage for up to 25 cars, a 24-hour a day wrecker service, tires, accessories, and most importantly, vehicle repairs. 

Movie Premise

 Little towns and little houses. Interesting premise for a movie. Just the people are normal sized ones. Now with choppy dialogue!

 

"Mom, why house so tiny?"

"Don't know, child."

 

Bacon on grill, trees on fire in background.

 

"Today. Nice day grilling friends."

"Yes. Agree."

 

"Dis hot dog good."

"Glad."

 

Haven't worked out the physics sci-fi aspect yet, but it's getting there. 

Favorites of Family Guy: Volume One

No Meals on Wheels

Season 5, Episode 14 of Family Guy!

I remember the first time I saw this episode—sitting next to my dad while he lied down, a few weeks before Christmas. Around us were all sorts of decorations; red tinsel and pots of poinsettias, my mom's favorite. Originally, my dad was a Family Guy skeptic—someone who thought the show stupid and mindless. Today, he loves the show and quotes it often when joking around with me...now we're both looking forward to season 24!

 

Morris' Nightmare 2013

I finally got around to transcribing the new lyrics from the 2013 revamp of Morris' Nightmare!

Morris' Nightmare is my favorite Jimmy Buffett tune! It was severely underplayed (a few times in the 70s and 2013). By far one of his funniest songs!

(Right after the musical bridge)

You know up in the city

everybody's on their cell
nothing much to do

when it feels like winter fell 

ice scape

but mainly hibernate

 

Simplisafe Ad Thoughts

I remember watching a simplisafe ad and there was a robber breaking in.

Then they showed a dispatcher at their call center talking over the camera saying, "Stop! Don't go anywhere. Police are on the way".

I don't know how this would deter robbers that much.

The Hunt for Frederick Langston's Office

"You know, I was in the Investigations Sector when it was evacuated.

Well, not THERE there.
I was in Executive because they have the best snack machines.
You may think they’re all there because of that plain white packaging,
but there’s a difference.
You know those thick ruffled potato chips?
They're my favorite.
All the machines outside Executive carry those flimsy little thin chips.
They have no texture.
I may as well eat cardboard."

- Frederick Langston, from Control

From his dialogue over the speaker in the Investigations Sector, it is heavily implied that he worked there before Hartman escaped. 

"Anyway, I get back to the elevator and they tell me the sector is being evacuated.

They wouldn't even let me go back in for my stuff!

Can you believe that?

I worked at that desk for years!

I had photos on it, my favorite stapler,

one of those good ones that could staple a 50-page report no problem,

a little cash, and some, uh, personal recordings."

- Frederick Langston, from Control

Among other things left behind, Langston mentions his personal recordings. The two recordings in question are "Langston: Me and You," and "Langston: Freestyle". Both of these mixtapes were found in the Shifted Offices. Featuring Langston himself, he dubbed these as "experimental music slash poetry" pieces.