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Bluegrass on the Bayou


Okay, since nobody was brave enough to send me a CD to review, or to let me know where their band was going to be playing so I could check them out, there arenÂ’t going to be any reviews in this monthÂ’s column. (Shame on you people!) Instead, I am going to tell yÂ’all about a musical party that is going to be happening this month that everyone should go to. ItÂ’s guaranteed to be a real old-fashioned hootenanny.

I, Hobot


I am Hobot, cyber-whore, Pick me up from hi-tech store. I know that I can never understand Why a woman has to bleed And a manÂ’s slave to his need. My circuit board is wired for your command. 
IÂ’m not cursed with libido, IÂ’ve been trained to not say no. Reality is only in the mind. There canÂ’t be an embryo, With no seed to root and grow. A fantasy is only what you find. 

James Seif


Most people remember Lynn Swann as the graceful, Hall-of-Fame wide receiver for the Pittsburgh Steelers during their glory days of the 1970s. Needless to say, heÂ’s a rather popular guy in Pennsylvania. Like other retired athletes, heÂ’s attempting to capitalize on his popularity by entering politics. More specifically, Swann, a Republican, is seeking to become the first black governor of the Keystone State by portraying himself as a political outsider.

Flakes, Flautas, and More Flakes


The Winter Olympics are awful. The reason they happen only once every four years is so that people forget how boring figure skating truly is. What the hell is curling, anyway? It appears to be a team shuffleboard sport with some sort of housekeeping fetish. WomenÂ’s hockey? Really? How come Sonny Bono had to die while skiing, but Bode Miller is still allowed to live? He should hit a tree just because his name is Bode. Then he has to whine and cry about how hard it is to be famous. Bode Miller is famous? Since when?

HelloÂ…Is This Thing On?


Okay, in keeping with the spirit of this column, IÂ’ve got to Tell da Troof: Only one person emailed me about my column last month. Well, considering this column is based on the questions and responses of you, the readers of Red Shtick Magazine, getting only one response makes for a pretty easy day at the desktop for me and a really short f–kinÂ’ article! Okay people, let me say this once more, email me. Ask me something or respond to the question of the month. I donÂ’t care what you ask or how you respond.

Yes, Virginia: The Carpet Does Match the Drapes


I do think there are truly natural blondes, and there are ones that have been converted from the other side of the aisle. When you go grocery shopping, do you take a list or just wing it? Being in retail, I always take a list, just so I know what IÂ’m doing and donÂ’t look like a total fool when I venture out in public.

Oh, but not the ever-so-regal blonde ones. They just go for it, like, “IÂ’m going to a Mardi Gras ball, and I need some jewelry to go with my dress and shoes.” 

“Well, what color is your dress?”

February 2006



Dear Fellow Chocolatarians:


What’s all the fuss about? Mayor Ray Nagin – or, as his close friends like to call him, Count Chocula – why is everyone criticizing the guy for thinking out of the box? Okay, so it was a Valentine’s box, but maybe his heart was in the right place.

A Nice Place to Visit, But I WouldnÂ’t Want to Live There


If you were not aware, I am a man. I love the ladies, and every so often, the ladies get drunk enough to love me back. As a man, I was born with certain paraphernalia that the ladies were not, and vice versa. I know that the ladies don’t have the same amenities that we do because, as I said, sometimes they get drunk and I get educated. I think we are all mature enough adults to know what it is I am referring to without me reverting to such childish names as “wiener” and “noony.”

LetÂ’s Eracism This Month


This month is Black History Month. Instead of spending column inches on what the seemingly racist Mayor Nagin said about God’s “Chocolate Plan” for the Big Easy, I am going to comment on what I feel is the root of the ever-growing problem: racism. So prepare yourself, for I may actually make sense.


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