Live From You Dorks - Volume One

From the Archives

As the producer of "Live From You Dorks, It's A Sadder Day's Night of Jive" and the follow-up guy to your amazing tweets, I want to thank you for providing me the grit for which I grind, then mold into masterpieces that will stand the tests of time.

"Live From You Dorks, It's A Sadder Day's Night of Jive" 
Twits & Tweets

Eddie Murphy: Funny how Twitter has turned druggies, hoes, and fakes into motivational speakers.

My Tweet: Hey Eddie, unlike you I was once a fake druggie and a hoe. Unlike you, I am a real actor, won three Oscars and a dog named Boo

Steve Martin: Ouch. I just hit my head on the floor.@SteveMartinToGo

My Tweet: What did I tell you about doing your push ups while drunk, Steve. (And I was thinking about the time I hit my head on the chandelier. Talk about being light headed)

 

Joy Behar: Charlie Sheen met w/ Fox about possible late night show. I’d like to see him on Fox News. Their new slogan: "Fair and Mentally Unbalanced.” @JoyVBehar

My Tweet:  I was thinking more as a host on the Cartoon Network. He and Loony Tunes will be in good company. (What else do you have to say, Bay Heart...er, I mean Miss Joy Behar?)

Joy Behar:  There are so many celebrities with drug problems, they're putting a Walk of Fame in front of the Betty Ford Center

My Tweet: A Walk of Fame? How about a run from shame?


Nick Cannon: Charlie Sheen may be heading back to ‘Two And A Half Men @NickCannon

My Tweet: "And then it will be called "One and A Half Men and a Troll."


Jim Norton: Didn't feel like I was very good on Chelsea Lately this time. No reason; sometimes my mediocrity just rears its ugly head. @JimNorton


My Tweet: We can't always be perfect, so don't you fret about mediocrity unless your mediocrity proves contagious. I can't afford it!

Dominic: No shirt, no shoes, no service” is a completely inappropriate sign when hanging outside a hospital. @dominicdierkes

My Tweet: I hate to see people hanging anywhere if you really want to know the truth.

***

 Graham: "If I blow a dude in a train station for tickets does that mean I'm gay?" @grahamelwood

My Tweet:"No, it means you're too cheap to buy your own ticket and you need to get home to your boyfriend."

Sean: I hope no one hires me to make a commercial for used band-aids. They seem like a tough sell. @SeanClements

My Tweet: Yeah, you probably wouldn't be able to cut it!

Lisa Lampanelli: Heading back to NYC on 4 hours sleep. Be warned, fag stewardesses -- I’m more irritable than Larry King’s bowels! @LisaLampanelli

My Tweet:You better put a pillow over your head & stay clear of the cockpit. You may scare the Auto Pilot and end up in Poughkeepsie.

***

Danade: Do all men reject taking medicine or do I just attract this certain type? @danadearmond

My Tweet: It's because the men you attract believe that you are the medicine. 

Kelly: FACT: The internet was invented to globalize complaining. @kellyoxford

My Tweet: That's not true, now you ruined my whole night And my hot tea is cold. And my beer hot. My head hurts. Somebody stole my hat.

Titus: 69, it's just a number!  @titusistheshit

My Tweet: 69 is not just a number; it's an activity, one that is sometimes performed poorly by those who think of it as just a number!

Will Ferrell: Some people are real. Some people are good. Some people are fake & some people are real good at being fake. @WillyFerrell

My Tweet:   I think that I am just a figment of my own imagination but at least, my imagination is greater than I ever imagined. (So, what else you got to say, Willful Pharaoh?)

 Will Ferrell:  I got 99 cookies cause a bitch ate one

My Tweet:  Well, then make it 98 cookies and then stop your bitching

***

Craig Wayans: Does jerking off on a plane get you into the mile high club? @CRAIGWAYANS

My Tweet:  No! Jerking off on the plane causes turbulence. I remember so well my last flight when I just couldn't help myself!
 

Kitty: I'm against recycling because it makes me look like an alcoholic to the garbage men. @KittyPatrick

My Tweet: No it doesn't. They already know what you are by your nakedness while raking the leaves and shoveling the snow.

Jake: I'm an empathetic cat, and i want my friends to be happy, but that email pushing a Canadian Viagra site was hacker spam. Sorry! @jaketapper

My Tweet: Tell me about it. Every time I hear the word Canada now, I think of Viagra Falls. And a few hot summers too. 

***

Viva Veronica: My boyfriend took a pee so long today that tourists passed by and started throwing coins in the toilet." @VivaVeronica122  

My Tweet:"Those weren't coins; those were love notes."

Brent:"He who asks is a fool for five minutes, but he who does not ask remains a fool forever. Chinese Proverb" from @brentnhunter

My Tweet: And then there are those who make an "ask" of themselves and question it later.

ItAmusedMe: "Did you hear about the hunter who had a close call? He saw tracks and went to check them out. The train almost hit him." @ITamusedME

  My Tweet: "That hunter dude needs to be better trained."

PeeWee Herman "Heard there was a mural of me at Home Slice Pizza in Austin. Had to check it out for myself." from @peeweeherman

My Tweet: "I always knew you were off the wall, Pee Wee!"
 

Suicide: I think it's time for me to stop waving goodbye when I flush. @suicide_smiles

My Tweet:  Don't you dare stop waving goodbye. It is not only rude but the cause of a lot of angry shit in this world.

John: "If you're watching the news and someone uses the word "Hubby" you're not actually watching the news.  from @JohnFugelsang 

 My Tweet:: "No, you're watching "Married With Children."

Just In ---A Special News  Report:

There's been talk of collusion between Twittering Tweeters and I'm going straight to the governing body to enact a law preventing this anti-competitive tactic. This is an anti-trust issue and as a member of the Federal Reserve, the P.T.A. and a member of Mensa I'm going to line up the troops and fight for the little guy. 

And as a member of the Royal Family I'm going to be a royal pain in the arse to those who are trying to monopolize this sphere by collusion. I'll go to my alderman if I have to and I don't think you would want me to do that . . . This man has ties . .. a few of them look really good with his blue blazer. Besides that, he has muscle, lots of it. Works out with Jimmy the Big Kid in one of Chicago's most popular gyms.

Folks, I am against monopolies, well, unless I get to own Boardwalk and Park Place and get the Reading Railroad and get to have the little cannon to travel around the board with. Really, when a few Twittering Tweeters join forces and collude, thus blocking the little people out (those who are 4 foot and under) I get really upset.

I have always been an advocate of free markets and the capitalistic economic model (I once built one; I was going to build another one but my silly brother sniffed up all the model glue) but what's been going on here has really become a major concern of mine. The practices are anti-competitive and monopolistic and I will not sit idly by as the rich get richer at the poor man's expense. I'm going to exercise my options (hold on while I get my dumbbells) and correct the problem. Get the point?

Your Host Ricky J. Fico aka Luigi Ficino

The Train Ride

The Train Ride

by Rick J. Fico

You know, as a world-renowned advice guru and the consummate observer of the human-condition I am sometimes flummoxed by what I witness during an otherwise normal day of travel or tallying it up at the petting zoo.

I took the train yesterday into the suburbs and I don't know if things had drastically changed since the last time or I was just too high then on some foreign substance not to notice the crazy shenanigans of train travel. If I wouldn't have known better, I swear I got on the same station as Benny Hill. Or perhaps this particular train was actually destined for a cast calling of The All Night Freak Show -- a new reality show I heard about but never had the temerity to fully investigate. I'll wait until it comes on the tube and competes with my other favorites, "Bringing Up a Bonded Duce" and "Ah See, I Was Born" show -- you know, the one about an aging rocker and his pet poodle.

The man across from me, resembling a cross between a young Clark Gable and an old Henny Youngman looks around, then surreptitiously inserts a Chesterfield in the side of his mouth nearest the window. The conductor, who had recently been assigned a generous 20-20 by an impatient optometrist, bamboozles his way down the aisle and quickly espouses his authority.


"Sir, no smoking on this train."


The reflective grimace of the man attests not only his consternation but also the quick extinguishment of his craving. He spits the Chesterfield out of his mouth and with enough velocity to propel a warhead to Planet Doom the cigarette hits its target--an unintended target possibly but a target nonetheless. It's the big lady in the first row. She erupts out of her seat.


"Now, what point was that?" she says, surveying the rest of us passengers, trying to discern the perpetrator. At this time, the conductor is shaking his head.


"By the way," he says, "was that one of those expensive Cuban Cigars?"

With that soft question comes the hard evidence and the big lady adorned in a habit comes rushing down the aisle, pulling from her satchel a yardstick. Oh no, I think. I know what this means. My feeble memory had not forgotten the corporal punishment inflicted upon my skinny ass for coming late to the Catechism classes. No fault of my own, of course.


Nervously, the Gable guy tries to affect an apology but has a hard time annunciating his words. So instead, he looks up to the conductor and says, "Who is that woman?"


The conductor, with no time for small talk, spits out a wad of gum, Wrigley's Spearmint I think, and sternly looks the Gable guy in the eye and says,"Nun of your business."


Having enough of this and not wanting to bear witness to the yardstick spanking-- for fear it might trigger off a few suppressed emotions-- and I certainly don't want to be accused of faking an orgasm on a train, I decided it best if I move to another car.


I get up; the conductor looks at me like I'm a traitor and begrudgingly tries to block my passage. "Excuse me, sir," I say. He won't move. "Please, can I get by?"


The conductor dude stares me hard with steely eyes: "Hey listen," he says, "if I can get by on this measly conductor pay then I'm sure you can get by with whatever you do. What do you do?"

"I'm a writer," I say, thinking he'd feel sorry for me. He steps aside.


"Hey, you got any gum?"




.

How Does Burger King Sound?

How Does Burger King Sound?

I'm sure it sounds like Burger King. How in the hell would I know how Burger King sounds. The last time I went there I had my hearing aid turned down.

 Just the other day me and a few other brain surgeons and rocket scientists were trying to decide on what to get for lunch. One of my co-workers asks "How does Chinese sound?"

"Well," I say, "I think it sounds like this: Shēnɡ yīn xiànɡ zhào zhè yànɡ!"  How the hell do I know?"

Another brain surgeon who goes by the name of Snookie says, "Well, how does McDonald's sound?"

"I don't know, " I say. "The last time I went to McDonald's I was wearing my ear muffs. Couldn't hear a fricking thing."

Rick J. Fico

Free Sex

 Note: Sex isn't sacred; it's thrown around so freely nowadays that I feel like canceling my Hustler Magazine subscription, throw out my  adult video collection.

As a world-renowned paleontologist and Advice Guru I am inundated with sex stories, compulsions, obsessions.... the list goes on and on... In part, because of this, I am compelled to share a few of my own thoughts on the matter. I hope that you keep an open mind. I know that I do, you slut! Just kidding.

"I'm on fricking cloud nine, man and it feels better than having sex with my Anna Nickel Smith&Wesson Blow-Up doll. It does, oh it really does. . .Nah, what the hell am I thinking? Nothing is better than that. Just kidding, I'm not that weird.

Folks, I love sex the old fashioned way! In the bedroom. With mirrors on the ceiling and a shag rug on the side. And lots of foreplay. Well enough of my sexual proclivities.

Sex is sacred, well, that's the way it's supposed to be. But all that changed when some guy with a Hoover went door-to-door exciting bored housewives with his Show-and-tell act. And then some geek with a toupee and a few hand-me-downs got the bright idea of promoting free sex at the circus. And it was all downhill from there. Now we have mini-cameras posted at every crotch in Hootersville and places beyond. Anyway, I'd like to change the subject and I know you people would hate me doing that, now wouldn't you?

Well folks, I just got back from the Pre-Democratic National Convention in Honolulu and let me tell you all, they got the best baked beans in the entire world. Oh, and a nice harbor too. I heard that a bunch of  people threw buckets of tea into the harbor because they were protesting against taxis or was it Texas?  Can't keep up with the politics, I got more important matters to tend to. Like getting head in the back seat of my therapist's sedan. Just kidding. Actually, I prefer my sedan.

Oh, I just landed a movie deal. With PairImount Pictures. It's about the life and times of John Holmes. I am going to play his stunt double. Can't wait!

In the news today. . . let me see . . .  another Senator caught with his pants down . .. I can't stop laughing. You'd laugh too if you saw the bill he was trying to pass - a three dollar bill! And you know what they say about three dollar bills, don't you?  Good, now tell me!

Ok, now that I got that off my chest, let me tell you how I really feel about sex. I wrote this not so long ago: "Sex may perpetuate the species but it is love that perpetuates the soul."

By Rick J. Fico aka Dan (The Man) Landers

The Life of the Facebookian and the Twitterer

It amazes me, really does. I'm smitten. I sit here day after day reading various posts from other bloggers, Twitterers and Facebookians and I'm like in the twilight zone or something. I have to pull at myself just to bring myself back to earth.

You know, I had visited many a library in my time, from the river's edge of the Arno to the Little House of Books on the Thames and had read various authors, well-known authors and let me tell you, I had wasted my time. I could've stayed home and logged on to Facebook or Twitter instead. Instead of Dickens we have, well, who do we have here? There are a few Facebookians and Twitterers who come to mind. Well, excuse my ignorance or my feeble mindedness but the names of these bloggers are eluding me right now. In time, though, just like always--my memory will return to its acuity and I will celebrate--first by unearthing the bag full of lira I had buried years ago-- saved for a rainy day. And then I will don my sombrero and do the polka with my parakeet. I love the rites of celebration, really do.

I'm a busy man, so busy in fact, that I have a hard time keeping up with the comings and goings around here. If only I had more time. Maybe you guys can wire me with an update or something. I'd really appreciate it. Some of you, I know this, have much more time than I do. I know that one gal, Bloggy Blue Butt sure does. Geez, how does she do it? She must be glued to her blogging chair, I tell ya. And there are a few others, but I don't know if I should mention them by name, I may get sued or something. I'd hate that. The last time I got sued I had to fork over my T-bone. The steaks were high, what can I say.

I wish I had more time to involve myself in one of the famous cliques that we have here on the Facebook or the Twitter. But most times I can't get a word in edgewise. I often have to sneak it in. It's like I'm on the outside looking in. The story of my life, I tell you.

Okay, I have shared with you a piece of my mind, a very, very small piece. I had it measured and it measures in at .000000143 of the totality. Hey, at least it's better than nothing.

As most of you already know, I'm multifaceted. That's right, I'm a man with various dimensions. Now, ladies. . . let's not get carried away here. No innuendos. Just kidding. Oh, I am suddenly reminded  of that time when I was carried away.

I was at one of those all- you- can -eat Swedish Smorgasbords and took full advantage of its offerings. One thing I didn't understand though was that big sign over the buffet line. It read: "Absolutely No Carry Outs." Well, excuse me for going against policy but let's see you eat 12 pork chops, three pizzas, a pot of Swedish potato stew and a Swedish meatball and see if you're not carried out. After that incident, a change of policy was instituted which in turn, instigated a change of sign. The little painter guy with the purple mohawk and pencil-thin mustache reconfigured the sign which now read: "Eat it and Beat It. And don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."  Not wanting to go against policy again, with a new sense of invention and a sudden bout of creativity I obliged, thank you. I crawled right out that door backwards. And who said I'm not a genius? If it was you I'd kick. . . kick your soccer ball and scream.

Oh, and because I am such a genius I was rushed to the hospital after that incident. A concussion. That was one frickin' door, let me tell ya. I think it was made of solid iron and its retraction spring was set way too high. Hey, I ain't no spring chicken.

Thanks for listening,

Ricky J. Fico XXIV

Sure, I'm Self-Centered!

Some people think I am a real A-Hole just because I'm a genius and extremely handsome with huge muscles and a dark tan. They think I'm a conceited jerk but I'm far from conceited. I'm one of the most modest persons you would ever meet if you ever get the good fortune to meet me. If you ever were so lucky to meet me, you'd be surprised to see how down to earth I really am. After you bow and kiss my feet, you'd see that I'm no different than you. Although everybody is wanting of my attention, I'd be sure to give you my full attention as I sign my autograph for you so that you'd have something to frame when you get back home. . .

Okay, now that I cleared up that unfortunate misunderstanding, let me tell you a little about myself - here I go: "I am Great!"  I really mean it! I am great at a lot of things - like giving huge tips to hard-working waiters and waitresses; I'm great at opening doors for people, especially the elderly; I'm great at helping others when I see that they are over-burdened; I'm great at helping others understand that life could be so wonderful and not as dismal as one may think -that is part of the reason why I became a world-renowned advice guru. To offer my services to those who could use a little boost.



I'm great at being myself, oh yes I am . . . And if you still think I'm an A-hole be sure you don't leave a tip on any of my tables - especially the one with your last supper.


Ricky J. Fico

Gimme Money

Don't Judge Me By The Size of My....

Well, judge for yourselves and fill in the blanks, you scientific geniuses out there. . ..

I don't like judges who try to judge me on the color of my polyesters and my "I love Momma" tattoos.

As I had dictated to my stenographer the last time in court, "I hate fricking judges who think they're members of the Cabinet or worse yet, God incarnate." 

Just because I was ticketed for doing five mph in a 65mph zone, doesn't mean hizzoner should take it upon himself and fine me three dollars for every mile I drove under the minimum. 

Hizzoner assessed me a fine of $255.00 which, by the way, does not equate to three dollars a mile. I told the judge, "I think you made an error in your calculations." 

He decided that I was in contempt of his court and threw the book at me. Not only was it a poorly written book and had been banned in sixty-six countries including England, its corners were sharp and jagged and made my head bleed. I should sue but I'm afraid if I do, I'd end up in the same court with the same judge and then what, hire a librarian to represent me?

Really, I believe to an extent the judicial system and try to abide by it's rules and laws and protocol but sometimes, some of the shit is absolutely ridiculous. I had been told before I was old enough to wear diapers, "Ricky Boy, you'd make a great lawyer."

"You know what, Miss Babysitter; I think you're right! But, if you'd first stop bouncing me atop your lap as if I were a rag doll, I'd tell you a story. It's about the life of Abe Lincoln, a poor farmer boy who grew up to be a lawyer and then became President and did a few good things like help free the slaves after hanging out his shingle at his new address - I think it was The Gettysburg Address."



By Rick J. Fico

It Was Einstein After All!

(Warning: Contains Satire & Reality-Driven Time  Travel)

Is My World Really That Different Than Yours?

Really, though, it's probably not much different from your world. Although your world had sustained a different beginning than mine, I'm willing to bet that my world will probably end the same way as yours. In my time, I had tried to keep to my philosophy of never letting our world's collide. It could result in disaster. I've seen it happen before and it's not pretty.

My world may be in a different orbit than yours but pretty much, the same laws of physics applies to my world as it does yours. You may remember Newton as much as I remember Euclid. And Albert Einstein.What about him? Yes, he was a visionary. No, he wasn't God. Nor were the Beatles. Talented, yes. Did they move the masses in ways not done before? Yes and no. Did you ever move masses. I did. Me and the crew. We put the church atop the flat bed and drove it to the other side of town where it looks real pretty with the big blue mountain as a backdrop. Driven by Inspiration

The Big Bang. Ask Stephen Hawkins about that one. This man, too, a visionary. Not so much the future but he has a good eye for the past. Influenced by Einstein, pressed into service by Inspiration.

Thomas Edison, he was another one. What did he say? He said, "Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety nine percent perspiration." I sent him a case of Right Guard. Good job, Eddie!

***

Oh, If memory serves me right, it was sometime after the war when our front porch became refuge for a few of society's outcasts--members of the down-trodden and misguided; it was place where we'd convene on a hot summer night, discuss not the misfortune that fell upon us in a destined way but of the possibilities.

Sure, we may have smoked some hemp, downed a few jugs of wine and on some of the crazier nights, when ghouls went to bed with saints, we'd pop tabs of acid, just to see what the universe was really supposed to look like.

We were the children of tomorrow, unprivileged yet proud, impoverished but determined. Mike, with his long straight hair and moustache hovering above his carefully cultivated beard, resembled Jesus, especially when we dallied down the street to the Saint Peters church and he jumped on the pedestal in front of the real Jesus. Silhouetted in floodlight, we begged his forgiveness and tossed him another joint to fire up. Oh, and his little brother Jack, a throwback from the days when a boy would take his pole down to the crick and pray to Lord Jesus, that he'd catch something other than crabs . . .

***

As far as claiming myself a genius, I didn't... it was actually Albert Einstein who did. You see, we were sitting at a cafe on the River Thames, discussing extremely important issues -- those which are of paramount significance to the high-falutin, paparazzi-driven acolytes of mammary implants and the latest brand of lip gloss(talk about lip service).

 After guzzling a few buckets of espresso and munching on salvers of Crumpets we delved into the rhetorical side of existentialism and other ethereal isms concerning the plight of our genus, when I just about floored Albert with one of my  observations. The way he looked, it seemed as though he just stuck his fingers in an electrical socket... He got up so quick he reminded me of the Energizer Bunny sporting a reinvigorated libido... he ran over to his Volkswagen car to retrieve his legal pad. He began scribbling furiously all types of funny looking equations while mumbling, this kid's a genius and just then, the waiter came over and plopped the check down upon the table, breaking Ol' Einey's train of thought. 

Shlock and Sloe

Not so long ago I was a hard partying Rock N'Roller who sang a lotta Led Zeppelin. But sometimes I was so drunk that I messed up the lyrics as evidenced from the recordings I recently uncovered. I am embarrassed to put the original recording out here but here are the exact lyrics that I sang!

Shlock and Sloe

(while gravitating to Roll N' Roll by Led Zeppelin)

 It’s been a long time since I saw Larry and Moe
….a long time since I stubbed my toe
Apparently, in a coma, oh I really don’t know
… I’ve a hairy back, a hairy back…
and my hair is black, baby, where did you come from?
I need a drink of wine . . . a drink of wine
Cuz I’m sad

It’s been a long time since I lost my glove
My hand is cold, neither can push or shove
Give me some slack, hand me a jack
and a warm bottle of rum
It’s been a long climb, just about outta rhyme
Give me a drink of whiskey and lime

 My seams are long, my pants, oh they are so tight
Ready for chow, it really seems so right
Play with my charms, oh my wonderful charms.
Oh baby, hand me your glove and pray for sin
It’s been a long time, a long climb
Been a wrong, and a pony-less, moaning-infested rhyme.

Ricky J. Fico

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Like Rodin's "The Streaker"

Lately, I'd been thinking! Strange, isn't it? Me -think? Just kidding, I'm always thinking. Even when I'm not thinking I think, "Maybe I should start thinking." I am like Rodin's little naked statue - The Steaker. I'm sure you'd seen it before.

Lately, I'd been thinking....

Oops, I had already said that. But I didn't realize that after I said it, I typed it out on the keyboard. Sorry, so sorry!

Anyway, I'd been thinking. I know what you're thinking -"Man, that Ricky Fico sure likes to repeat himself." Actually, I don't. I suspect it's an old habit though. You see, back in grammar school  (about 80 years ago) I had many friends who were deaf. At my school, we had an entire floor dedicated to special education - this included educating the deaf.


I was proud of my school. It was purported to be one of the best public schools in Chicago and as further testament would prove, it was the best. And get this - my geography teacher -her name was Mrs. Atlas. I'm not kidding, true as shit!

And my pre-algebra teacher? Mrs. Heimindinger! Again, true story!

I was lucky. I excelled through my grammar school, placed second in the High School Entrance Exams. Which meant that I was going to go to the Harvard of High Schools. Really, I didn't want to.  I wanted to go where most of my friends were going. But my teachers and the Principal of my Grammar School convinced my family that Lane Tech was the place for me.
Maybe it was but the summer after my tenth grade my world became infused with drink and drug - I had joined my older brother and sister's little club. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

Well, my high school became in reality, my high school. I'd be stoned on pot or tripping on acid while debating the merits of Nuclear Arms -deterrents and all that shit! And talk of the Cold War and The Soviet Union and Reaganomics and bringing down the wall, which I was all for. Really I was!
So now you may ask - How come Ricky Fico's not discussing his love for sex.

Ah, wrong time, wrong place! But as I had often said, "sex is good but making love is great!"

And, I'm in no shape or form an arrogant sob or an egotistical bastard. I do love myself,  I really do. There were times in the past, though, that I didn't. Those days - I was on a path of self-destruction.

Not anymore! I am on the path of erection and if you pay me enough accolades, I'll be sure to erect a monument just for you. And if I can't, well,  I know somebody who can. Yeah, my cousin's a sculptor.

SEX AND BLOGGING - A HEALTHY COMBINATION

A recent scientific study conducted at Stanford & Son University confirmed the theory that sexual pleasure is enhanced 60% when it is performed within one hour of blogging. Two hours hence and the magnitude of orgasm decreases 10% and three hours after blogging you might as well forget about it. You may also forget about it if you have an early onset of dementia or been hit in the head by a wayward bowling ball.

One prominent scientist, Sir Ricky J. Fico said, "Blogging is perhaps the greatest aphrodisiac ever invented." He went on to say that having sexual intercourse while blogging is the ultimate but he advises against it for those who are not ambidextrous. Having sex during blogging has increased many of the participants muscle mass while helping them to remain focused as well, he says.

Blogging and boogying is a healthy combination and if practiced more often, divorce in this country would certainly diminish, says another prominent scientist, Fricky Rico of the Spot Mckinnsey Institute.

His research concludes:

In one Icelandic Country where 90% of the married population are bloggers, the rate of divorce has dropped 76% since blogging became the hobby of choice after ice hockey and watching reruns of "I Love Lucy."

RJF

Room Service Indeed

Talk about Room Service, gee I may be headed for the Hilton....maybe Paris Hilton!

A Rappin', Rockin' & Rollin' Fool

Like Dylan, Jay Z, Eminem and Lennon

I'm rappin', rockin' and rollin' 

all day, all night, in the dark, in the light

Words from my suitcase need unfoldin'

and others I may wear a bit too tight

Like Lennon, Dylan, Eminem and Jay Z

I stitch together words that often rhyme

Sometimes, now this may sound crazy

but I am often willin' to do the time 

I know to succeed, one mustn't be lazy

so I let my sentence follow my mind 

Like Eminem, Jay Z, Lennon and Dylan

my works are from my point of view

And my raps are the raps worth fillin'

and why I'm willin' to fill a void for you 

Sometimes we all need a little thrillin'

and a few words, not a million will do! 

By: Ricky J. Fico

Keeping An Eye Out!

I Was The Absinthe -Minded Confessor at Caesars Palace!

Tittsburgh? I thought I Was In Vegas!

What Happens In Vegas, Happens!

From my Vegas Fremont Street Experience!

The Chess Master

Talking about numbers and money and chess and genius babies....

I tell you, kids say the darnedest things. My great nephew Nicholas is no exception. Provided me with food for thought if you really want to know the truth! —

Look Ma, No Hands!

Checkered Past

 

For some odd reason, I think this guy has a checkered past!  Well, well, well I bet he's thinking about a game of chess and he's considering a face-off. Who knows, who really knows.