Ulysses grants

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Ulysses sold Inspiration in a bottle.
Sure, it was ordinary tap water, and the bottles dingy beer bottles with cheap laser-printed labels glued on them crooked-like, but people desperate for Inspiration will pay anything for it.
Ulysses does his best bsiness on Artist’s Row in Midtown. He goes around collecting up empties like an old-fashioned milkman, leaving full bottles on the doorstep.
“I need a lot of Inspiration for tomorrow,” says a painter. “Twice the normal order.”
Ulysses grunts, marks a pad with a nub of a pencil, and pushes his cart down the alley.
Inspiration waits for no one.

A Small Act Of Defiance

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I went on a hike today, and I heard about the bombing attack in Tel Aviv just as I was getting on the bus to go to the meeting point.
During the hike, my old hiking boots fell apart. (Well, I’d had them for more than a decade, and they were cheap to begin with.)
So after the hike, I went to buy new boots with my birthday money.
I bought Caterpillar boots.
Two good things about that:
I get to defy the Caterpillar boycott … and I get to walk around in shoes with the word “Cat” on them.

Don’s Night In

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He had been waiting a long time for this evening.
Everything was ready; he’d seen to that. The chilled Champagne, the candles, the flowers, the scented oil. The freshly laundered sheets.
And now she was in his arms.
His chest pounded with desire. He forced himself to breathe.
She nestled her head in his lap, sought him greedily. He moaned, pleasure building within him like a breaking wave.
AFLA-A-A-A-A-CK!
Afterwards, Donald lit a Mallardboro and exhaled slowly, blowing flattened smoke-rings. The night would not be cheap, but so what? His credit was good. She would put it on his bill…

New Rome

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Pope Papadapoulos the Portly stood at the window of his basilica, surveying his domain, reflecting on his life’s work. He was pleased.
Singlehandedly, he had effected what had been thought impossible: the healing of the Great Schism. Now, Greek, Roman, and Russian churches all obeyed a single authority, kissed a single ring. His ring.
With the elaborate ceremonies that were to mark the historic relocation of the Holy See from Rome to Buenos Aires about to begin, the Holy Cheerleaders were in position, clutching their pompons.
Papadapoulos strode forth. It was time to deliver the first Bull of the Pampas.

The Easter Egg Hunt

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We spent all of yesterday painting eggs. The kids love the bright colors and the sparkles. Their wide-open eyes dazzle in delight.
After they went to bed, I hid the eggs throughout the house. That’s right. When they wake up, we’re going to have ourselves an old-fashioned Easter egg hunt.
But sometimes, they whine about this kind of thing. Kids can be lazy these days, you know. Damn X-Box Generation.
So if they give up, I’ll just tell them that we didn’t paint chicken eggs. We painted rattlesnake and alligator eggs. And if they don’t find them all, they’ll hatch.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 55

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General Grant slid the card across the table to his Commander In Chief and winked.

Abe looked at it:

“HOUSE OF PAIN”

“They’re good,” said Grant. “They’ve got S&M clubs here in Washington, New York, Boston, and Atlanta. Made Sherman think twice about burning the city down.”

Abe slid it back to Grant.

“As I would not be a slave,” said Abraham Lincoln. “So I would not be a master.”

“Fine,” Grant said. “Your loss. I’ll take Stanton this weekend.”
Abe left the room, went upstairs, and put on his diaper.

“I want my bottle!” he shouted.

Mary Todd sighed.

The Designer

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It was only a matter of time before she branched out into a new business.
Name recognition? She had that – in spades. Her online journal was massively popular: on the rare occasions when she accepted comments, hundreds would sprout, like mushrooms after spring rain. She was eagerly sought out for interviews. Television. Newspapers.
But writing was becoming a bore, so she now turned her prodigious talents to the world of fashion design. Within months, her pocketbooks were being introduced in the hottest salons of Beverly Hills and Salt Lake City.
Yes, ladies: Now you, too, can own a DooceBag.

Problems

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Finally, an angst-filled monologue from Andrew Ian Dodge…

Problems, We all got problems
You’ve got more than most
When it comes to complaining
You really push out the boat
Where d’you get off
Giving me all this shit
The smallest little crime
You turn into a right little bitch
It makes me stop and wonder
Why I keep you in my life
You got shit – deal with it
Don’t keep it all inside
I’ll help you if you ask me
Just quit messing with my mind
Your emotions are so wild
You minds a total mess
You can’t turn back the tide
And it really gets me stressed

I’m smelling song here…

Showbiz

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Andrew Ian Dodge shares a little showbiz news…

After the downer tale of yesterday and the described idiocy of the previous 100 words… I am going a bit goofier. I have got two bits of show-biz news you lot might not have heard yet. One…the horrid news that pneumatic breasted Jordan and her one hit wonder Aussie husband, Peter “Insania” Andre are planning an album of duets. NO! On the other hand Take That fans will be pleased to hear Robbie Williams will rejoin the group for their forthcoming tour. He previously said that he wasn’t going to join his former group-mates on their nostalgic panty-squirt inducing tour.

Since when was this the E! Channel?

The Dali Code

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I know you’ve heard of the DaVinci Code, but have you heard of the Dali Code?
Just as the true nature of Christ is in a vault only reachable by following clues laid out by Leonardo DaVinci’s work, Salvador Dali’s work is a map to the Missing Fifteenth Station of the Cross.
Dali? Devout?
Of course he was. Why else would he paint Crucifixion?
Okay, so here’s the secret: Between having his clothes stripped off and getting nailed to the cross, Jesus was slapped with a fish in a bowler hat.
Okay, so he was a weird kind of devout.