Christmas Post #16: A Hillbilly Christmas
by Steve West on December 2, 2007

My father was born and raised in North Carolina. Throughout my childhood we would make the summer trek to my Granny and Grandpaw's house in the middle of the state. Many a summer night passed listening to roosters (they crow all friggin' night), the occasional gator grunt, and my hillbilly cousins fart and scratch while playing cards. Their discussions often centered around things just like this: The need for a better spit can; guns for their kids; the question as to with whom they would rather sleep, their wives or their guns; and electricity - highly overrated. I love my cousins still. Merry Christmas guys! And Tinker (a real cousin), I found the best game for you. Check your mailbox.
Web Junkie
Steve West scours the Web searching for interest or absurdity and then shakes his head ruefully when he finds it. Read more »

That's Entertainment
Recently, we held the Annual Empoyees Event for the credit union for which I work. Each year along with the State of the Credit Union speeches and various awards given, there is an entertainment portion. Last year was karaoke and dancing, the year before was a fashion dos and don'ts demonstration. Go »
Placing Lust's Arrow In Cupid's Quiver
It's refreshing to reflect that the human race survived the sexually repressive Victorian Era. That women actually overcame their culturally reinforced suppression of sexual urges and ultimately spread their legs for something other than yeast related trail-blazing. Let's relive those glory days with the Victorian Sex Cry Generator and see where Fern Michaels gets her inspiration. Go »
Homer Sings
Do-Re-Mi as sung by Homer Simpson DOh - The stuff that buys me beer. RAY - The guy that sells me beer. ME - The guy who drinks the beer. Go »
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?
Recent conversation with Brenda: While watching “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” in bed... Me: Do you want to have sex? Brenda: No. Go »
My Ball Got Whacked With Monkey Poo
I love miniature golf. Back in college, I spent many a drunken evening goofing off with friends, avoiding the last few pages of a term paper, or just getting the cheap thrill of pretending you're an athlete by getting your ball into Mickey Mouse's left eye to win a free game. Eat me, Arnold Palmer! Go »









