Red Ken Again

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Andrew Ian Dodge takes aim at his favorite target in London again…

“Chiselling little crook” is the term Ken used to describe the new American Ambassador on yesterday’s London ITV news. Well at least he didn’t call him a filthy Jew or something similar. This time he only displayed his hatred for Americans. Why is he being so vile you ask? If he needs an excuse that Ken…you see the American Embassy, like most embassies, don’t believe they should have to pay Ken’s idiotic congestion charge. Oh yes and there is litigation on-going that might have encouraged someone with a brain to keep schtum. America’s attornies are pleased at his latest outburst.

W&W

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Andrew Ian Dodge tells a tale of a night at the pub.

As I sit here in this local bar with my buddie John I watch him eyeing up the piano in the corner with ill intent. He peers over his pint and Evening Standard itching to hop on the piano to play out a tune. The drinkers and smokers in this pub have no idea they are the subjects of a new song about their time here. They while away the time until chucking out time oblivious to their new found fame. While I feign reading I contemplate how the village will take our latest effort ‘Whisky & Westminster”. John rises…

Stay up late

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I’m up later than usual, sitting in my leather chair with a blanket over my legs.
Piper is purring under the blanket at my feet. Every now and then she chirps out a musical note and goes back to purring.
Nardo is under the rocking chair, tucked up with his eyes almost completely closed.
Both of them are waiting for me to go to bed. But there are some things I need to finish up before I can shut the computer down and crawl under the covers.
A few more words…
There. Finished.
Record it, post it, and good night.

DBAM

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Andrew Ian Dodge fills us in on his medical adventures…

I went to the David Beckham Academy: Medical Centre today and a brilliant bloke named Pete took a look at my hurtin calve. He then told me what was wrong with it and gave me an excellent training routine to make sure it heals properly. If you got a injury that involves any type of skeletal condition head to them. I can highly recommend the staff at the Medical Centre. And hey, whether you are a footie fan or not, its kind of neat to think that the bloke working on your leg uses his skills on David Beckham as well.

London Rally

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For pictures of the rally, go to Andrew’s Web Site:

The London rally went rather well; about 1000 people showed up to express their distaste for those who attack free expression. No doubt the complete lack of possibility of a riot made it rather uninteresting for the MSM and it was rather damp. The only bit of controversy was the fact that a few people showed up with Danish flags and those infamous Mohammed Cartoons. This was against the wishes of the organisers. Lots of police were there take photos of the rabble-rousers. Various political factions attended. You can find a link to shots of the rally at my blog.

Hedges

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Every day I wake up, I put on my robe and head for the center of the hedgemaze where servants have placed my medicine.
You’d think I could navigate in my sleep by now, but the hedges are mounted on special tracks of my own design, allowing them to be rearranged into new configurations and challenges.
Lawson the Mazemaster waits in the middle, sipping tea and reading my papers. The sooner I solve his creation, the less of my crosswords he’ll finish.
My butler hands me a sword. “Five minotaurs today,” he says.
Ah, medicine and exercise. My quest begins!

Lemons and Limes

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When I drink my iced tea, I like it with lemon.
I also like it with lime.
So, I keep a bag of lemons and limes handy. When I want tea, I close my eyes and pull something out of the bag. Then I squeeze it into my iced tea.
I’m never unhappy with my selection because I like lemons and limes equally.
One day, I reached in and pulled something out that wasn’t a lemon or a lime
It was an aborted fetus.
It wasn’t good in my tea at all.
But it was great with lemon. Or lime.

Not Dice

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Einstein said that God does not play dice with the universe, and I believe he’s right.
So for the past thirty years, I’ve been trying to determine exactly what game God does play with the universe.
Bouncing quarters in the Holy Grail?
Perhaps.
It wasn’t easy getting the research grants, but when the government doubted and withdrew support, private sources of funding kept the faith.
After all, what casino wouldn’t want to claim to have exclusive rights to the Divine Game. If they’re willing to build volcanoes, replicate cities, and buy holy grilled cheese sandwiches, why not this as well?

Angels on the radar

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By adjusting the sensitivity, power, angle, and reflectivity of a weather radar, you can detect some interesting things out in the heavens.
If you’re really good, you might even find signs of heaven itself.
Now, I won’t tell you the exact settings you need, but imagine the shock when I twiddled a few dials and came up with a squadron of angels sweeping over the land.
Or maybe they were ghosts. I’m not sure. I’ve still got a lot of research to do.
What Nobel Prize category should this be under? Do you think I have a shot at winning?

Speech

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It’s time for a speech by Jim S. the Folderman…

Satisfied, I stepped back from the podium. The speech had gone well enough. Well, better than could be expected, considering the ugly circumstances which made it necessary.
It was never easy to personally deliver one’s swansong and I’d done the best I could. Now the rest was in other hands.
At the bottom of the steps, my faithful secretary waited.
“Good speech, sir.” She said, “but not good enough…”
Snapping out of my brooding, I looked up and was greeted by the discharge from her gun.
DAMN! I knew it was coming, but I NEVER thought it would be her!