Archive for November, 2009

best of craigslist: To the Father of an Unruly Child At Plato’s Closet

Monday, November 23rd, 2009

Date: 2009-09-28, 11:28PM CDT

To the Young Father of an Unruly Child At Plato’s Closet:

Thank You.

At first, I thought you were desperate for female attention, simply coming into Plato’s Closet to allow your 1-year-old son to constantly be underfoot, crawling about the floor, in between clothing racks, in between my legs, etc, in order to procure an innocent girl’s phone number. “Stop,” you’d playfully say to the little boy, seemingly intentionally lacking any authoritative tone. It was obnoxious and rude to allow your child to roam around the store that way; I know I almost tripped over him 3 or 4 times. But I can’t really yell at you too much – you didn’t look much older than 18.

But there is a point to this aside from your bad parenting– It was the revelation that I had in the dressing room that I must thank you for. I’ve always been one of those wait-till-marriage types, but lately, I’ve been tempted to not wait, as it would be a good 3 years before my boyfriendand I could even be married…I’ve researched birth control options, wondering what the most effective means would be.

It was there, in the dressing room, in my bra, with little Henry/Jimmy/Joey peeking up at me from the floor, when everything became clear. Your girlfriend/wife – who was apparently changing in the stall next to me – asked that you “please” watch little Timmy. Your solution was to continue to allow him to crawl around. “She’s in the black stall,” you instruct him. Naturally, little Henry doesn’t know what you mean, or the more likely option, given your lack of disciplinary skills – he doesn’t care. He continues to crawl about the floor, and I hear a girl shriek as you exclaim, “No, no, not that one!” At this point I figured either you or the Mrs. would put a firm arm around Jimmy and hold him tight, but instead, you CONTINUED to allow him to crawl about the floor, peeping up at various half naked girls.

Later on, I saw you checking out with your girlfriend/wife, holding on to the squirmy child, unsure of how to handle unruly little Tommy. Sure, hormonal birth control is 98% effective, barrier methods 85% effective… it was obvious that you fell in the either 2% or 15% that weren’t as fortunate.

And the thought of joining you in that narrow margin with a Little Susie–regardless of how amazing the passionate moment from whence she came may be–of my own is, quite frankly, terrifying. It is NOT a risk I am ready to take.

So, thank you. I will now keep my pants on until I can handle the thought of corralling a small, unruly child of my own.

best of craigslist: To the Father of an Unruly Child At Plato’s Closet


The Dinner Roll …

Sunday, November 22nd, 2009

Once upon a time I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the President.

I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics.

There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind.  I live in a free country.  There’s nothing that the government can do to me if I’ve broken no laws.  My wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American President is an honor.

I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the President in a yellow dining room.

We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen.  The Great Seal was embossed on the china.  Uniformed staff served our dinner.

The meal was served , and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen..

“Sorry ’bout that,” said the President. “Andrew is very hungry.”

“I don’t appreciate….” I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me,  I felt immediately guilty and petty.  It was just a dinner roll. “Of course,” I concluded, and reached for my glass.

Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp.  “And his brother, Eric, is very thirsty,” said the President.

I didn’t say anything.  The President is testing my compassion, I thought.  I withheld my comments and decided to play along.  I don’t want to seem unkind..

My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.

“Eric’s children are also quite hungry.”

With a lurch, I crashed to the floor.  My chair had been pulled out from under me.

I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room.

And their grandmother can’t stand for long.”

I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool.  Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game.  I reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken.

I turned back to the President.

“Their grandfather doesn’t like the cold.”

I wanted to shout, “that was my coat!”  But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport.  I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled.

Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone.  I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table.

I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home.

Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in.  The President hadn’t moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face him.

“Andrew’s whole family has made bad financial decisions.  They haven’t planned for retirement and they need a house.  They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage.  I told them they could have your home.  They need it more than you do.”

My hands were shaking.  I felt faint.  I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor.

The President cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak, and drank his wine.  I lowered my eyes and stared at the small grey circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.

“By the way,” he added , “I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories.

I’m firing you as head of your business.  I’ll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind.

There’s a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can’t come to you for jobs groveling like beggars..”

I looked up.  The President dropped his spoon into the empty ramekin which had been his crème Brule.

He drained the last drops of his wine.  As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair.

He stared at me.  I clung to the edge of the table as if it were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss.

I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived.  The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle.

Why was I punished?  How had I allowed it to be taken?  What game had I played and lost?  I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us.

What had I done wrong?

As if answering the unspoken thought, the President suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands.

“You should have stopped me at the dinner roll,” he said.


author Richard Gleaves first posted on


obama solves riddle

Thursday, November 5th, 2009

Barak Obama meets with the Queen of England.

He asks her, “Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give to me?”

“Well,” says the Queen, “the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people.”

Obama frowns “But how do I know the people around me are really intelligent? ”

The Queen takes a sip of tea. “Oh, that’s easy. You just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle.”

The Queen pushes a button on her intercom. “Please send

Tony Blair in here, would you?”

Tony Blair walks into the room. “Yes, my Queen?”

The Queen smiles. “Answer me this, please, Tony. Your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother

and it is not your sister. Who is it?”

Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answers, “That would be me.”

“Yes! Very good,” says the Queen.

Obama goes back home to ask Joe Biden, his vice president, the same question.

“Joe. Answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child. It’s not your brother and it’s not your sister. Who is it?”

“I’m not sure,” says Biden. “Let me get back to you on that one.” He goes to his advisors and asks every one, but none can give him an answer. Finally, he ends up in the men’s room and recognizes Colin Powell’s shoes in the next stall.

Biden asks Powell, “Colin! Can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it’s not your brother or your sister. Who is it?”

Colin Powell yells back, “That’s easy. It’s me!”

Biden smiles, and says, “Thanks!” Then, he goes back to speak with Obama.

“Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It’s Colin Powell.”

Obama gets up, stomps over to Biden, and angrily yells into his face, “No, you idiot! It’s Tony Blair!”


yes, racism and prejudice comes in all colors

Sunday, November 1st, 2009


President Bush welcomes Iranian leader to UN

Sunday, November 1st, 2009


Jack Webb schools comrade obama

Sunday, November 1st, 2009


have you seen the john murtha airport? your tax dollars at work

Sunday, November 1st, 2009


what’s he gonna tell oprah?

Sunday, November 1st, 2009



get the idea?

Sunday, November 1st, 2009



nobel prize….it’s a real cracker jack

Sunday, November 1st, 2009