ZUKI HAS MEA CULPA ……but says he did his part

suicide girl copyGood Morning “Confederation of Dunces”

“In 2014 3,385 children and youth ages 0-19 years were killed with a gun. This includes homicides, suicides, and unintentional injuries.  This is equivalent to about 9 deaths per day, a figure commonly used by journalists.”
The 3,385 firearms related deaths for age group 0-19 years breaks down as follows:

214 – unintentional
1,078 – suicides
1,990 – homicides
83  –   for which the intent could not be determined
20  –  legal intervention

Perhaps if we all put our hands together we can coax the ‘Suicide’ fairy into a more aggressive posture.  Killing themselves is a tremendous ‘community service’ and a clean way to eliminate the unworthy saving taxpayers millions on social remedies that are nothing more than “polite bathroom talk.”  I understand the above numbers represent children, but think about it.  If we could double the number (suicide) above, not only would moronic behavior be less prevalent, but would go a long way into balancing the national debt.  I’ve done my part.  In a scant three months, I drove Kenny to put a bullet through his head at the same place he had earlier scattered his mother’s ashes.  While not confirmed, there’s serious speculation that Phat Ass Patty also ate a bullet.

If true, I certainly contributed to it.

Now get out there and make somebody’s life miserable!


There are No Comments to this post.

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY,…….zuki writes a strongly worded letter

money-greedy1Good Morning Disciples of Defalcation,

It always amazes me when I hear stories of hapless individuals getting scammed out of their life savings and left for dead.  Typically the news story is about an 80 year old trying to donate money to a charitable cause and winds up getting bilked from some greasy guy without a conscious.

Theft comes in many forms though and not always tied to a scam.  Last year Massachusetts tried to pass legislation making a person liable for things said to each other while dating or in an ongoing relationship.  So hypothetically (I’ve never done this mind you), if for the sake of getting laid I told a woman I loved her and would marry her tomorrow and she agreed to have sex based on my statements, I could be held liable for damages.  In a canonical sort of logic, the proposed bill if passed would have caused me to be subject to litigation from a vengeful woman hell bent on emasculation.  I can’t imagine the can of worms that law would have opened!

I bring this up because we ALL say and do things to further our own agendas and justify those things as innocuous byproducts of doing business.  However, the ease with which many will connive and the depths they will sink to cheat others is indicative of the overall mindset of our financial markets today.  What sickens me is how these bastards pat themselves on the back for their philanthropic deeds then point them out whenever it becomes expedient. These bottom feeders don’t do ANYTHING unless they benefit from it.  This is the worst kind of hypocrite!

I don’t want to dwell on the above as it’s too depressing so I’m going to get to the point.  I purchased a Powerball ticket that I fully expected to extricate me from my current squalor and deposit me in Kona.  I purchased the ticket in good faith and even prayed for good measure.  Last Saturday’s drawing for 60 million was not forthcoming as expected.

I’ve retained an attorney on a contingency basis and we’re going after Powerball for breach of contract.  I know what the two or three of you reading this pack of lies are thinking; “C’mon zuki each ticket clearly states the 176,000,000 to 1 odds, how could you possibly think you have a case?”  I’m hip.   Nobody said it would be easy.  My attorney Harvey B. Fleecemoore is going to adopt the idea discussed above and go after them for being promised untold wealth in media ads and unapologetically failed to deliver the goods. The piss-ants at the Colorado Lottery actually laughed when I claimed the prize.  I suspect it will be a landmark case.

For those of you that play state sponsored lotto or Powerball and feel as though you’ve been duped and misled by the exaggerated claims spewed from states greedy for lotto dollars and wish to collect for your pain and suffering, I’m taking donations for what’s sure to be an extended legal action.  Please send your tax deductible donations to the following:

Zuki’s Improbable Legal Fund

PO Box 509

Denver, CO. 80123


God Bless You,


There are No Comments to this post.

THE ABJECT JOY OF THE CHASE……the utter horror of the catch

b-throwing-rocksGood Morning Piscators,

Given the return of penury living, I was sitting on a bench in a public nature area situated along a small creek near my apartment. I was watching a couple of 10 year old boys throw rocks at an invisible prey along a section of the creek. They were fervent in their stoning and tirelessly threw rocks at maximum velocity.

Still not sure what it was that inspired such purpose I got up from the bench and moved to a better vantage point. Moving wildly right and left jumping back and forth across the water it appeared they were having trouble finding rocks of manageable size. They quickly fashioned spears from the many dead tree limbs along the creek and now slung their spears with the same intensity.

This brought back some great memories for me and immediately knew what they were doing. They had trapped a little Perch by damming up a 15 foot section of the creek chasing the poor fish back and forth. I remember spending hours pursuing a trout that got trapped in a narrow but elongated strip of water but was never able to catch it.

But on this day, one of the boys actually speared the fish finally putting the creature out of its misery. I was a bit surprised by their reaction though. Instead of the expected joyous war hoop, they both stared disbelievingly at the fish and seemed to be saddened by its demise. One boy gently held the dead Perch using both hands to cradle it as he kneeled down then lay prone on the bank as if he intended to revive it. The other boy kept asking if the fish was moving and of course it just had the stuffing knocked out of it and had no chance. They both got to their feet still holding the fish as if they were saying a few words on its behalf then unceremoniously tossed it back into the creek.

I watched the boys get on their bikes and take off thinking there must be a moral here somewhere. Nothing really popped out at me in this regard, but I think it’s safe to say that the joy of pursuit in most cases far exceeds the lugubrious ending when the hunt is finished. A few years ago this principle was demonstrated by a former rules committee member. Madcow chased and hounded ‘Touched’ (in head) who is certifiably a cotton box candidate for weeks because he hadn’t been laid in three years. It’s the bane of celibacy but he was oblivious to the warnings of those that knew her, yet continued the quest for her most bizarre affections. The honeymoon was brief. Less than a month later Madcow could be found looking like the gasping Perch; lips moving open then shut drowning in his actualization.

Madcow is now a broken man, locked in with no apparent means of escape. He lives vicariously through country music, and seems to get satisfaction from the loathsome lyrics as they nearly always suggest a solution, but “Piss up a Rope” no doubt says it best. “Up shit creek using turds for a paddle” He caught his fish at last!


There are No Comments to this post.


liarGood Morning Children of Taradiddle,

Our very own Bagwan has seen fit to trouble himself regarding deceit.  A bit of irony he’d pick this forum as his platform, but who am I to question the Bagwan? Speaking for we the unwashed, I’d like to offer this poignant lesson as proof positive of the veracity of Mark Twain’s famous quote, “There are lies, damned lies and statistics.”  Take a few minutes and inhale the truth:


The first time I ever heard the word “mendacity was in the movie “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.” In this quote from Big Daddy (played by Burl Ives) he not only defines the word but explains its role in our everyday lives:

Mendacity. What do you know about mendacity? I could write a book on it…Mendacity. Look at all the lies that I got to put up with. Pretenses. Hypocrisy. Pretendin’ like I care for Big Mama, I haven’t been able to stand that woman in forty years. Church! It bores me. But I go. And all those swindlin’ lodges and social clubs and money-grabbin’ auxiliaries. It’s-it’s got me on the number one sucker list. Boy, I’ve lived with mendacity. Now why can’t you live with it? You’ve got to live with it. There’s nothin’ to live with but mendacity. Is there?

There is always mendacity around Curmudgeon Corner but it really doesn’t matter. Around the Corner it is just like the proverbial tree falling in the forest – no one hears it, or if they do, they will forget it by tomorrow. The form of mendacity that bogles my mind is the kind that takes place out in public eye, which in this information age is bound to be discovered.

I am particularly confused by the lies which are completely unnecessary, for example the Brian Williams’ lies. Now here is a guy who has reached the pinnacle of his profession. In his chosen field you can’t get any higher than being the anchor for the primetime news on a major network. So after he already has the job, he then after the fact tries to burnish his resume with lies. Big Daddy and I could both understand lying to get the job, but this ex post facto mendacity serves no purpose. For this, Brian has been banished to MSNBC where he will report on what is described as “breaking news.” I picture this as being similar to the guy the local affiliate sends to stand on the bridge over I-25 at 6:00 AM in a blizzard, telling you that your morning commute might take a little longer than usual.

The other public display of mendacity this week came from a lady in Spokane, Washington. Her attempt at a new identity reminded me of a high school coach of mine who told me that with hard work I could be whatever I wanted to be. Those were much simpler times; I really doubt that Coach Gibbs was suggesting that with proper effort I could become a black woman.

I always thought the term “passing” referred to fair skinned blacks who tried to pass as white. This white woman made a completely unnecessary attempt to reverse that process and “pass” as black. Yes she wanted to be in the NAACP but the NAACP accepts white members. She rose to be the President of the Spokane chapter but that also is possible for whites especially in a city like Spokane which really doesn’t have very many CP’s. She has been ousted from the NAACP and lost her job as Professor of African studies at a local university all because of an unnecessary lie. Her only defense is that she “identifies” as black. To the rest of us her identity is white with a splash of bat-shit crazy.

A lot of lies are acceptable, understandable and in some cases better than the truth. Cush’s parents lied to him about being adopted. For years they told him he was adopted, but it turns out he really wasn’t – what parent out there wouldn’t do the same? Or how about when President Clinton lied about Monica? He was following the book to the letter on that type of situation. And it would have worked too if the little bitch had sent the dress to the dry cleaners the way the rest of us do when we get cum spots on our clothes.

It is hard to say that the truth is always the best. I would say that not hurting folks would be the best and if you can weave the truth in there too, than all the better.

There are 5 Comments to this post.

BETTER LIVING THROUGH CHEMISTRY……..curmudgeon corner gets hip with lust

passedoutdrunkGood Morning Juggernauts of Life’s Rich Pageant,

I was listening to ‘Lightin’ Hopkins who happens to be one of the greatest blues men to ever bend a note, when suddenly the song’s refrain knocked me to the floor! I know what most of you are thinking, and no, I didn’t fall off my chair in a drunken stupor. “Did you ever love a woman like you loved yourself?” I thought, “wow…..that’s pretty interesting zuki, as it’s a gender twisting of the Golden Rule.” It’s funny how our stream of consciousness will often dovetail with the action taking place right in front of us.

One of our own who I promised not to reveal in anyway, has been experiencing a sexual drought. This is not rumor as it came from this person directly, and I suspect few would come out and admit to something like that, so volunteering the information has the veracity to be told on this venue. Of course if you knew who I was referring to, you’d have little problem believing the story anyway, so I’ll get on with it.

Our good friend was at the bar and met a woman (had bad teeth) who actually seemed to enjoy our associates style and at the end of a drunken Blondie’s session decided to bed down together. Now for those of you who haven’t reached that magical age of 50, you probably don’t realize that sex takes much more preparation than when one was 25. At the tender age of twenty-something you’re ripping each others clothes off and with little foreplay are ready to mount up a marathon.

The more mature one gets hopefully one’s love-making skills improve. This becomes vital, because now foreplay is much more important in actually getting your partner aroused and interested. By the time one reaches fifty-something, the body will often betray you by shutting down many of those things once taken for granted, so there you are; naked in bed with a lovely woman you’ve labored long to inspire and has actually become excited, only to approach her with a limp-ish looking ‘Johnson.’ “Oh the horror!” The ensuing embarrassment only serves to worsen the condition so that even a simple hand job is now out of the question!

God help us.

Thankfully, medical science and “better living through chemistry” has given the world Viagra or Cialis to bolster and sure up the problem. I’ve personally experimented with Viagra and can attest that it works as advertised! In preparation for my good friend’s big night he was equipped not only with the big V, I was also able to secure a modest amount of accoutrements suitable for the occasion. I warned him about the later ingredient being very strong and not to overdue it. So our associate and his ‘babe’ hot footed it back to his place where he had a nice Pinot Noir waiting. Incense was burning creating an ambiance similar to his college days putting them both in the mood. Lying in each others arms, our brave associate fired up the facilitator and began to enjoy the accoutrements. Kissing passionately, fondling each other to the point of moaning garbled expressions of lust, they both agreed it was time to exchange bodily fluids and headed for the bedroom. My good friend had popped in 100 milligrams of Viagra two hours earlier and was visibly ready. Everything was perfect, or so he thought. Our brave associate made the fateful decision to take a quick shower as to remove any possibility of offensive body odor.

Our smiling associate bounced out of the shower completely naked. He jumped onto the bed like ‘Tarzan’ with his rock hard member fully engorged and pointing straight up. He snuggled up to her making ape noises but the ‘babe’ didn’t respond. He gently shook her but still no signs of life. Oh my God! his babe had totally passed out. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him; all hard with no place to put it! SHIT!!! There she was mostly naked, mouth agape snoring with just a hint of drool pooling up at the corner of her mouth. Just as in the movie “Animal House” our boy was torn about doing what needed to be done. Should he fuck her even though passed out? Should he do the gentlemanly thing and laugh about it over morning coffee hoping to regain the magic enjoyed only hours before?

Shit what a dilemma.

After deciding on the gentlemanly thing, our hero was now faced with another problem. It takes a Viagra induced boner hours of inattention to let the air out, but every time he looked at her in repose, “Schwing!” He tried icing it down with limited success and could feel blue balls setting in; pain only men can appreciate. He became so frustrated he decided to use his cock hammer as a battering ram running at the kitchen wall puncturing a dick sized hole in the drywall. This went on until he had managed to poke five dick-holes in the wall finally getting his cock to at least fly at half mast. Ironically it took most of the night to fall asleep given his condition, and slept through his babe’s awakening. She quietly let herself out not wanting to disturb her would-be lover.

I asked our good friend if he ever got back with her to which he replied, “Hell with this dating shit, I’m returning to the drought never putting myself in that position again!” I think we can all take a lesson here. If opportunity presents itself, don’t put off till tomorrow what you can insert today!!


There are No Comments to this post.