Dear Kim Jong-il,

Please put down the crack pipe or the opium pipe or the freebasing spoon or whatever the hell you have going on over there and listen to me for a second.

Word on the street is you’re gearing up to bomb Hawaii.

Are you completely out of  your damn mind?

Did you eat some kimchi that had turned and now you’re lost in a perpetual hallucination?
Hawaii!? Seriously?

I’m sorry. That was probably a bit harsh. Let me start over and catch you up here: Hawaii is part of America. A part which, historically, we get a bit sensitive about when someone decides to bomb it. Do the words ‘Pearl Harbor’ mean anything to you?

No?

What about a little something called Hiroshima?

Because - and I’m not condoning this sort of behavior, but – it’s arguable to say that Hiroshima happened because Pearl Harbor happened.

I’m hoping you can read between the lines here… 

If not, let me break it down for you: Fire a missle at Hawaii and get a nuke dropped on your @ss.

It’s pretty much that simple.

Who would ever doubt that a man of such obvious physical prowess was a golf superstar?

Moreover, Hawaii is by far one of the top-five best states we have. It’s tropical, lush, warm, and beachy. And it’s native peoples are one of the only ones with some balls. When the Spanish Conquistadors or whomever came and tried to claim it for themselves, the Hawaiians more or less executed them on the spot.  And rightly so.

If only Geronimo had been so bold.

Regardless, they’re still native peoples and they’re still getting the shaft from the U.S. government and the occasional haole and they really don’t need your guff too.

Plus, at least one of the islands of Hawaii (Kauai) has tons and tons of roosters. You like roosters, right?

Or is it only dog that gets your salivary glands going?

Never fear, like any good island, there are plenty of mongrel dogs there too.

Moreover, I understand you’re a huge film buff, your favorites being – what’s that you say? – AMERICAN MOVIES. Yeah, I hate to break it to you, but Friday the 13th and Rambo are American movies. So, by the way, are Elizabeth Taylor and Michael Jordan. Americans, that is. Americans who possibly live on or vacation in Hawaii and who you may accidentally bomb to kingdom come.

So you crazy Dear Leader, you, why don’t you go back to kidnapping local directors and actresses and forcing them to make films for you and put these crazy ‘bomb Hawaii’ plans aside for a while? Or make a movies about it? Or just go play some golf and shoot four or five holes-in-one as you reportedly do every time you play.

Too bad you had to be a crazy dictator, because even Tiger Woods hasn’t got game like that…

In conclusion, lest you think that I’m so different and there’s no reason to listen to me, let me assure you that my birth, too, was foretold by a swallow and heralded by the appearance of a double rainbow over the mountain and a new star in the heavens. So you can trust me. Minus the dog-eating and kidnapping, insane military anarchy plans, and ugly outfits, we’re two of a kind.

Thanks for listening!
Vanessa

For the second time in a row…

For the second day in a row…

I wrote a lengthy (and no doubt genius) post and hit ’save’ and then it disappeared into the ethers.

The first was about Burmese pythons taking over the world.

And tonight’s was about this ridiculous writing contest where I really need the prize money, but choke in disgust on the topic (“Roses on the windshield – Barftastic stories of smooshy love and stuff.”)

And it’s late.
And tomorrow I fly across the state and hopefully don’t contract swine flu.

A word to all travelers with fluish symptoms with plans to board planes in Washington state tomorrow (the Typhoid Marys, if you will): If you infect me with your freaky mutated multi-animal gened flu bug, and I get it, and I die, I will haunt your @ss into the grave. And then I’ll haunt your ancestors.

Why not? I’m dead. I have nothing better to do.

Jacob Marley will have nothing on me.
I’ll be out there with the chains and the moaning and the midnight shrieks and the door slamming and the super-scary ‘dining room chairs stacked up in a pyramid on top of the table’ trick. That’s some spooky sh*t. It will not be good for your stress level.

Remember that movie with Michelle Pfieffer? I’ll run your bathtub and overflow it and show up in it all seaweed-y and angry and scary as hell floating in the water. And I’ll write on your steamed-up mirror. Stuff like “Oink. Oink.” and “You suck!”

You like that?
No?

I didn’t think so.

So keep your freaky germs to yourself.

You’ve been warned…

Example Colonel statue. This leaves me cold, but I do have a thing for Bob's Big Boy statues. Maybe because that was one of my first jobs when I was 16 years old? I was a hostess there, and I still have trouble looking salad bars straight in the eye.

This blog is developing some themes. Somehow, I keep finding myself unintentionally rehasing certain topics.

It could be that I am just a mirror to the world? Or perhaps I’m just unconsciously fixated? Either way, I’m not sure it’s a good trend as the obsessions include:

• Raging zoo animals
• Amy Winehouse (Or is that redundant?)
• Wal-Mart
• Stupid crimes
• The Ku Klux Klan
• Kentucky Fried chicken

That stated, here we go again.

File this one under “KFC” or “The Colonel” or just “people believe in some pretty crazy things.”

 Colonel Sanders still smiling after 24-yr Japan dip

TOKYO (Reuters) – After nearly a quarter century at the bottom of a Japanese river, Colonel Sanders has come up smiling.

Ecstatic fans of the Hanshin Tigers baseball team tossed the statue of the Kentucky Fried Chicken mascot into the Dotonbori River in Osaka, western Japan, in 1985 when the perpetual underdogs won their first Central League pennant in 21 years.

Randy Bass during his heydey. Yeah. He looks EXACTLY like The Colonel. They're practically twins. Seeing as all white people look the same, the beard makes the resemblance downright eerie.

Tiger fans, who saw a resemblance between the Colonel and the team’s bearded American slugger, Randy Bass, jumped into what was then one of the country’s most polluted rivers when the losing streak ended — and took the life-size statue with them.

The team went on to win the national championship, the Japan Series, that year but has never done so again, prompting some to suggest that the Colonel’s disappearance put a curse on them.

A diver checking for unexploded bombs from World War Two in the river as part of a clean-up found the Colonel’s top half on Tuesday, minus his hands and glasses but still sporting his trademark string tie and grin.

The Colonel’s smile might have widened if it could on Wednesday, when his bottom half was recovered and reunited with the top. “It’s only a statue, but I felt as if I was rescuing someone,” a worker told reporters after the lower half was found.

Rescuing someone, indeed. Although I’m sure 24 years in the most polluted river in Japan was fantastic, no doubt The Colonel is happy to once again be controlling the fate of Japanese baseball teams from dry land.

I don't have any clue who this guy is, and feel a little guilty using his image. Let's just hope he got the dental help he clearly needed, and leave it at that.

Or is that too generic?

“Attention toothless Wal-Mart shoppers who store said missing teeth in their wallet! We have your wallet.”

Mass. Wal-Mart customer finds teeth in wallet

FALMOUTH, Mass. – A customer shopping at a Wal-Mart for a wallet claims he found something that definitely didn’t fit the bill: human teeth. Police say the man found 10 human teeth Saturday when he unzipped a compartment in the wallet. One tooth had a filling.

The customer turned the wallet and the teeth over to employees at the Falmouth store but left without giving his name.

Police investigating the incident told The Cape Cod Times that the teeth belong to an adult, but since there was no blood or gum tissue on the teeth, they would be unable to perform DNA tests.

A Walmart spokeswoman said the company believes it was an “isolated incident,” but will investigate.

Perhaps it was Amy Winehouse's wallet?

I’m suspicious with the whole ‘running off without giving your name’ thing.

Who’s really in the wrong here? We all know it’s bad form to go through a wallet you find.

You can flip it open to see if there’s ID, but you don’t go unzipping pockets…unless you’re trying to STEAL THE VALUABLE CONTENTS OF SAID WALLET.

I say serves you right, Mr. Finders Keepers. Sure, maybe there were 12 gnarly cavity teeth in there…but what about the $7.45 cents I had!?!? And my coupon for Hot Pockets!?!?

The obtaining of this photo opened one of those "Your computer may be infected!" windows. Welcome, new trojan horse. Make yourself at home.

Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers: All ye who enter here may or may not come out alive.

Further note to Jay Richitelli: Sometimes you have to draw a hard line between your pending lawsuit and your love of a bargain.

Florida Man Sues Wal-Mart Over In-Store Snake Attack

Richitelli’s attorney says the Bentonville, Arkansas company should have taken steps to prevent the attacks after they happened before.

Wal-Mart wouldn’t comment on the litigation filed in Broward County Circuit Court, but said customer safety is its top priority.

Richitelli says he still has respiratory problems and scars from the 2008 bite. But he’s been back to Wal-Mart several times, saying their prices are too good to shop elsewhere.

Death by pygmy rattler or irresistible rolled-back prices? It’s a tough call.

Meanwhile, I’m left wondering if this is the same snake? Three times in three years – at least he’s consistent. At this point, it’s practically a mascot. Maybe they should give it a name? A few ideas:

• Sam
• Venom Head
• Oops
• Lawyer’s Best Friend
• Poison Pete
• Ouchie Boy

Now I’m no herpetologist, but according to some research I’ve done (I am nothing if not thorough in the daily writing of this blog), the things are damn small. Thus, the word ‘pygmy’.

Seriously though, they only grow to be about a foot long, and if this image (from “Sensational Serpents”) is to be believed, they’re basically the size of a pencil. A pencil filled with venom.  A venom-filled pencil that bites again and again and again until you stomp on it or tear it off your leg and chuck it against the wall or it wears itself out or something.

Not to pick on Wal-Mart employees, but seriously…the few times I’ve been in there, most of them seem barely functional. Do you really expect them to notice something like this hanging out on the decorative bark? I feel grateful if they get all the objects I’ve purchased into the bags, and I hold the bar no higher.

In the interim, seeing as respiratory problems and scars aren’t enough to keep Mr. Richitelli away from the ‘low prices every day’, I suggest he invest in a pair of ‘LaCrosse Alpha Venom 18″ Snakeboots’ (allegedly fang-proof) should he decide to go back into the Wal-Mart gardening center any time soon. Odds are Ouchie Boy has been waiting to finish the job he started.