Rambling Rhodes

I'll Take One Butt Kicking To Go, Please

This Saturday, I'll be competing in my first grappling tournament since I concluded my high school wrestling career on the island of Okinawa back in 1993.

Of course, wrestling has since morphed into jiu-jitsu, which I've only been training in for just over a year, so I'm kind of nervous, but not really. I'm more curious than nervous. It should be an interesting experience, provided I don't get hurt, which would suck.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll write all about it here once I get back. Enjoy your weekend, random ThunderJournal readers!

Next Week's Column. . . TODAY!

"Gambling It All On Vegas" c. Ryan Rhodes, Sept. 16, 2006

Because my job requires that I travel from time to time, I found myself in Las Vegas a couple weeks ago, attending a technical conference held at Caesar's Palace.

I had never before been to Las Vegas, so I was a little curious as to what to expect while visiting the city "Bugsy" Segal built. Although I know this will come as a shock to some of you, I feel I must warn you that, in Las Vegas, there's a lot of . . . GAMBLING . . . going on. What's more, everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, in Las Vegas is designed to make you want to gamble.

Consider, for example, the Las Vegas airport. No sooner had I de-boarded the airplane when I was confronted by slot machines. I was so surprised to see slot machines in an airport, I felt compelled to gamble a quick $5. I battled the slot machine for about 10 minutes before moving on to the baggage claim. In the end, I finished about 25 cents down. I shook my fist in defiance at the machine, and continued my trek through the airport.

The Las Vegas airport baggage claim is a marketing gold mine. I was stuck there for 45 minutes, literally surrounded by Las Vegas advertising. There were banners and broadcasts proclaiming shows by Celine Dion, Jerry Seinfeld, Elton John and countless other celebrities. Heck, even Carrot Top had a banner up. Seriously, CARROT TOP! When was the last time you saw Carrot Top in ANYTHING? I thought the man had died of a carrot-related disease. Well, for 45 minutes, I was stuck there, looking at Carrot Top, waiting for my luggage. It was the most brilliant exercise of advertising to a completely helpless and captive audience I've seen in recent memory. I couldn't go anywhere until I got my luggage, and until I get my luggage, I was reminded that Carrot Top still exists. Pure genius.

Once at Caesar's Palace, I was informed that my room wouldn't be ready for another hour, and I was encouraged to check my luggage and just kind of wait around. Of course, waiting for an hour in a hotel/casino, I felt compelled to gamble. Okay, I didn't feel compelled, but I figured "why not?" I mean, anything to get my mind off of Carrot Top, right? After breezing through a quick $20, I vowed not to gamble again for the rest of the trip, which of course meant that I'd be gambling again later that evening.

Once my room was ready, I settled in to watch a little television, only to discover that the television channel selection at Caesar's Palace was carefully chosen so that there's nothing at all to watch, so you're better off gambling. No HBO. Nothing. Just channel after channel about Las Vegas. After two days of Caesar's Palace programming, I know more about Las Vegas than I do about my own hometown. Disgusted with the hotel television, I went downstairs to gamble. And, after winning about $30, I decided to call it a night. I was $9.75 up. I had Las Vegas in my back pocket.

Or at least I did until I realized I'd forgotten to pack a shaving razor, which prompted me to take a walking journey around the Las Vegas strip, determined to find a Mach 3 razor, which I discovered is practically impossible, so I had to opt for a five pack of those horrible, torturous, plastic scalp-gashing throw-aways that cost almost exactly $9.75. I also discovered that 7-11 convenience stores in Las Vegas also have their very own slot machines, which struck me as rather odd. I mean, what's the point? Are you going to go to 7-11 to pick up a six pack of soda, a bag of chips, and a gallon of gambling?

I spent the rest of my Las Vegas stay marching from the technical conference to my hotel room, with only limited time for additional gambling and general sight-seeing. My overall impression of Las Vegas was that it's a fun to place to visit, but I'm glad I don't have to live there, at least not until they get a more robust supply of Mach 3 razors in stock.

As a gambling side-note, I left Caesar's Palace about $40 down overall, but upon arriving at the airport I learned my flight was delayed an hour, so of course I sat down in front of a slot machine to do some gambling. And I won $130!

It was almost enough to make me forget about Carrot Top.

Bumper Sticker Seen on the way to Work

"What Would Scooby Do?"

Be Sure To Read Rambling Rhodes

You'd be surprised how often you can use this image to augment your argument. ANY argument.

Flemaski VS. Velveeta

It's the only Congressional race that matters.

Via.

Well, That's What You Get For Apologizing

Al-Qaida in Iraq warned Pope Benedict XVI on Monday that its war against Christianity and the West will go on until Islam takes over the world, and Iran's supreme leader called for more protests over the pontiff's remarks on Islam.

See, now this is why I never apologize for anything. Except for posting that topless bust of Hillary. I do apologize for that. And for linking to it again. So sorry.

Just so we're clear

For the Augie ben Doggies of the world, this is not a weather-related journal. This is a ThunderJournal. This is MY ThunderJournal *ass strike*

And, as LearnedFoot points out, MY ThunderJournal is very ass-centric when it comes to content. *ass strike*

I also dabble in the occasional bout of profanity, although I would argue it occurs with far more regularity than the 30 percent LearnedFoot suggests, that fucker. *ass strike*

Yes, my ThunderJournaling has been somewhat weak due to my Las Vegas trip and subsequent catching up and shit. That should not lull any of you into believing this is in any way a weather-related journal. You cock-knobs. *ass strike*

Nick Coleman still can't write to save his guilt-ridden, hopeless, pathetic soul, and he has the sense of humor of a mafia hit-man (which, to be truthful, is probably being unfair to mafia hit-men, who could in fact be a very jovial lot, but I wouldn't know one way or another, so I just imagine them to be dour and serious).

Uh. . . oh yeah. . . *ass strike*

Fork Poetry

Caroline says: Where have all the forks gone?!

Ryan says: The eternal question.

Ryan says: So I turned and said to Juan, "Where have all the forks gone?!"

Caroline says: I don't ge tit

Caroline says: jesus

Ryan says: And Juan, he turned, and said to me, "The forks, you see, have ceased to be."

Dumbass

Augie ben Doggie is a dumbass.

Like, a MAJOR dumbass.