Dunkin' Cruelty

At first, I thought this campaign was a joke. I read it three times just to make sure it hadn't appeared in The Onion.

Compassion Over Killing is asking you to contact Dunkin' Donuts to urge the company to stop using eggs and dairy in its donuts as well as offer vegan menu items.

Stop using eggs and dairy? In donuts? You might as well ask Starbucks to stop using coffee.

No offense, my compassionate fellow citizens, but I only eat 2-3 donuts per year so, when I do, I don't want that tasty treat to resemble sawdust. No vegan Munchkins for me, no sirree Bob... and, yes, I've had vegan baked goods which is why I remain a committed carnivore.

Here's a vegan donut recipe:

2 cups soymilk (I use very vanilla)

1/4 cup canola

1/4 cup agave nectar

2 1/2 tsp yeast

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup applesauce **Add the applesauce and vanilla during the first flour stage!**

1 1/2 tsp vanilla

1/2 Tbsp salt **Just like the other recipe, the salt is added with the remainder of the flour**

4 3/4 cups & 2 Tbsp flour

Ah yes, I have such fond childhood memories of my grandmother saying to me, "Sweetie, fetch the agave nectar, will you please?"

Vegans and other PETA types try to guilt us non-vegans and non-PETA types into following their lead by bringing up the animal cruelty charge. Let's face it, even those of us who like a medium-rare filet mignon still don't like to see our fellow creatures harmed.

But, it's hard to take their cause seriously when somebody says, "I don't eat anything with a mother" or "I won't put anything in my mouth that has a face."

What ever happened to you do your thing and I'll do mine?

As a meat eater, I don't get insulted by my vegetarian friends. I'll cook them separate food, go to their organic veggie restaurants and generally support them in their lifestyle. However, I am rarely given the same courtesy in return.

Most of the time, I get a lecture. Does that make any sense? Man was born to eat meat. We have incisors for Pete's sake! You don't need incisors to rip apart a head of lettuce.

I called Dunkin' Donuts. I told them to keep their donuts just the way they are.

To quote Homer Simpson, "Mmmmmmm... donuts."

Dolphin Therapy

Last week, our great-nephew Jake was in Key Largo for his annual dolphin therapy.

This week he's in Orlando for the Angelman's Syndrome Conference.

I hope he's having as much fun with the fake animals at Disney as he did with the real animals in the Keys.

Mammogram Day

I hate mammogram day. Oh well, such is the life of the over-40 woman.

Last time, I actually got a joke out of the deal when the technician said, "We're going to need the bigger machine." When I asked why she said, "You're breasts aren't big, they're just wide." So, I said, "Oh great, I have side impact air bags."

Male comics who complain about female comics doing mammogram material have obviously never had a mammogram... or the equivalent. Trust me, if there was a penogram, every guy comic out there over 40 would have 15 minutes on the subject.

Heartbreak For A Friend

A friend of mine is currently living her worst nightmare. Yesterday, it was confirmed that she has pancreatic cancer and may have as little as three months to live.

My first reaction was to grab my calendar to see what I was doing three months ago. It seemed like yesterday.

I feel so sad for her.

Knowing your fate can be both a blessing and a curse. Some people can quickly advance through the five stages of death, reach out to long lost loved ones, take the trip of a lifetime and end their days with humor and peace surrounded by family. Other people feel despair until their final breath.

The pressure to be the former must be overwhelming.

None of us know how we would react when confronted with our own mortality. My friend has no idea how she will behave in the weeks to come. My only hope is that she will find a sense of calm but I can completely understand if her every waking moment is filled with fear and dread.

I made her laugh when I visited her in the hospital last week. I may never make her laugh again.

All I know, is that when she's gone, I will remember her by how she behaved in life, not in death.

"Lying About: Standup" Episode 2

Our latest ten-minute Recline-O-Cast, Is Everybody Hacky? has been uploaded for your viewing pleasure.

Fast Eddie

When Ed Rendell was the mayor of my hometown Philadelphia, he was known as the cheesesteak-eating, upper-lip sweating, slightly pudgy cheerleader for the City Of Brotherly Love. Everybody loved Fast Eddie.

Now that he's in Harrisburg, however, he may just be known as the hooker-hiring, upper-lip sweating, slightly pudgy former Governor of Pennsylvania.

According to a New York Madame, Elliot Spitzer wasn't the only Guv into the Luv.

Radio dudes Opie and Anthony, broke the story.

Of course, the rumors may turn out to be false. But, if it's true, he should resign. Why? Because he broke the law. Having sex with an intern isn't illegal, having sex with your assistant isn't illegal but having sex with a prostitute is.

Plus, his wife Midge, is a judge. A judge! She should bang the gavel down on his testicles.

Again, the rumors may turn out to be false. But are they ever?

Steven Crowder Investigates

Former Canadian and fellow standup comic, Steven Crowder, travels north for an undercover investigation of the Canadian healthcare system.

This 20-minute funny, informative and downright frightening video is Must-See Internet TV. My favorite part is when his friend is told he would have to wait three years to see a family doctor. I doubt he's reassured by the words, "You're young. You have time."

Watch the whole thing here.

Obamacare

I poured myself a short glass of George Dickel Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey, sat next to my husband on the Monroe Cuddler and watched the first 15 minutes of the Presidential press conference.

The second question posed to POTUS would have been my first. "Why the hurry?"

Apparently, Obama is in a hurry because of all the letters he receives on a daily basis. Oooooooookaaaaaaaaay.

If Americans believe that then they'll believe anything. He should have gone all out and tried to sell us tickets to the 4th floor pool.

My viewing was interrupted by a phone call from a friend who wanted to discuss our mutual friend who is currently in the hospital. I had visited the patient earlier in the day and, while her situation may not be grave, it certainly is uncertain.

Of course, if her insurance company refuses to pay for her treatment, everyone will agree that the fat cat, money grubbers are evil. What will folks say about our government when and if they start making similar decisions? See: rationing.

Here's a fascinating post from a blogger Peter Fleckenstein who has actually read and analyzed the Health Care Bill.

This might be my favorite one: "PG 936 Govt will develop “Healthy People & National Public Health Perform. Standards” Tell me what 2 eat?"

You'll have to pry the salt and vinegar potato chips from my cold, dead hands.

Sickened By Health Care Reform

Wake up, folks. Health care reform is about ideology. Even Ted Kennedy admits that the Democratic Party has been trying to push through this type of legislation for 60 years which is strange since we haven't had a "health care crisis" during most of that time.

It's about big government controlling you life. It's about-- uh oh, here comes the "S" word-- socialism.

David Kahane writes for the National Review Online:

We understand that if government can control each aspect of the human life cycle, from insemination to gestation to a woman’s right to choose to final destination (whichever comes first), it’s game, set, and match for the antiquated notions of “individual liberties.” Once His Serene Highness, the Emperor Barack Hussein Obama II, Protector of the Holy Cities of Honolulu and Chicago, and Czar of all the Fussers, gets his camel’s nose under your hospital gown, then nothing you ever do in your life will go unregulated.

And then there's this from the Heritage Foundation:

During the call, a blogger from Maine said he kept running into an Investors Business Daily article that claimed Section 102 of the House health legislation would outlaw private insurance. He asked: “Is this true? Will people be able to keep their insurance and will insurers be able to write new policies even though H.R. 3200 is passed?” President Obama replied: “You know, I have to say that I am not familiar with the provision you are talking about.” (quote begins at 17:10)

This is a truly disturbing admission by the President, especially considering that later in the call, Obama promises yet again: “If you have health insurance, and you like it, and you have a doctor that you like, then you can keep it. Period.” How can Obama keep making this promise if he is not familiar with the health legislation that is being written in Congress? Details matter.

Obama's approval numbers continue to fall even as he insists Americans want this kind of reform.

Forgive me for sounding like a right-wing nut job, but if I wanted to live in Canada, I would have loaded up my station wagon and headed north long ago.

Smelly Cat

At Philly International Airport on Saturday, I was standing behind a guy in the security line who reeked so badly of body odor that I had to go around him just to avoid the stench. At that point, I didn't care if I was breaking some TSA regulation. His aura was so pungent that being tackled and stripsearched by guards seemed like a preferable alternative.

The dude-- who my husband nicknamed Smelly Cat-- made the stinky situation even worse by his decision to wear a sleeveless T while traveling. At the very least, he owed his fellow citizens and thin layer of clothing between him and his putrid pits. It's like a man who wears an adult diaper boarding a plane wearing ass-less chaps.

Luckily for us, he was on a different flight. I can't imagine the horror of being trapped in a closed environment with this inconsiderate nitwit. I would have been praying for a football-size whole to open up in the ceiling. Either that or I would have used my seat bottom cushion as a murder device.

NJ To MA

I'm working at country club outside of Boston tomorrow night. We're flying so we'll only be gone for 24 hours.

I'm determined to try six new jokes on stage. I'll be lucky if I remember three of them.

Some of these bits I first wrote for this blog. Others I cranked out on Twitter. It'll be interesting to see if they work live.

1. Hubby said, "Were those breasts real?" I said, "I don't know, I was looking at her shoes."

2. Saw a chihuahua standing in the driver's seat of a large pick-up truck. Said to him, "You are overcompensating for something."

3. When my husband and I first starting dating, we once made-out for two hours on a park bench. Now, we can't even watch a two-hour movie without pausing for a bathroom break.

4. On vacation, you can have coconut rum and guava juice for breakfast. At home, it just means you have a drinking problem.

5. Caught our neighbors having sex on their balcony. I said, "I paid for an ocean view, not an ass view." There's only one moon I want to see and it's not hairy.

6. My mom is dead and I have no children so for me, Mother's Day is just another drinking holiday.

We'll see what happens. If they bomb, I'll just go back to telling the old stuff.

And The Emmy Goes To...

... Jim Parsons... I hope.

The statistical probability of the Academy nominating the right people for television's most prestigious award is astronomical but Parsons aka Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory somehow managed to beat the odds.

He's great. This Christmas themed clip proves why he so richly deserves his Best Actor nod.

1...2...3 Strikes You're Out At The All-Star Game

First strike: Our "cool" President walks out to the mound wearing jean "slacks" that could have been purchased from the back of TV Guide. I've seen third-world dictators wear hipper pants.

Second strike: Obama made a victorious fist pump after nearly one-hopping the ball to the plate. Talk about looking like the "Special Olympics or something."

Third strike: In a post-game interview, the alleged White Sox Fan-In-Chief called his old stadium Cominskey instead of Comiskey.

It was an all-around embarrassing performance.

The folks at Busch stadium booed POTUS when he was introduced. The Spinmeisters attribute the less-than-friendly reception to nothing more than Cardinals' fans reacting poorly to a man wearing a White Sox jacket (no doubt bought at Cominskey).

As Obama's approval ratings continue to fall (currently hovering at 57%... can less than 50% be far behind?) I predict he will spend the rest of his term feeling like a White Sox fan at Busch stadium. Or worse, he'll be treated like a fake White Sox fan at Cellular Field.

Catty

According to LiveScience.com, cats control humans.

If you've ever wondered who's in control, you or your cat, a new study points to the obvious. It's your cat.

Household cats exercise this control with a certain type of urgent-sounding, high-pitched meow, according to the findings.

This meow is actually a purr mixed with a high-pitched cry. While people usually think of cat purring as a sign of happiness, some cats make this purr-cry sound when they want to be fed. The study showed that humans find these mixed calls annoying and difficult to ignore.

According to TraciSkene.com (that would be me), cats only control humans who are pussies.

I've owned two cats in my life (yes, PETA I said owned... I wasn't their companion, I was their owner) and I had no problem picking them off my face at 5 AM, opening the door and tossing them into the hallway.

Oh sure, one of them would take revenge by using the bathtub as a litter box but I attributed her bad behavior to stupidity rather than malice. Mostly because she would use the bathtub as a litter box even if she was fed on her preferred schedule. In fact, she thought I was the idiot for showering where she liked to go to the bathroom.

Dogs, on the other hand, will drive you nuts if they don't get their way. Canines have much more control over humans than felines because of their incredible talent for barking. I can ignore the plaintive purrs of a kitty but if a terrier yaps at me for ten minutes I will do anything-- anything-- to make it stop. Suddenly, I become the bad parent in the check-out aisle who buys a toddler a candy bar just to make the screams go away.

Most people are either cat people or dog people. I'm both... and neither. I love animals but I also love to wear black clothing that isn't covered in fur. Someday, when I stop traveling and start wearing baby blue polyester pants, I will own another pet. But I'll also own earplugs because no animal is the boss of me.

Video Not-On-Demand

Last fall, hubby and I were given the opportunity to put together a couple of business oriented humor videos for WallStreetJournal.com which, is funny in itself, since our bank account proves that we know very little about business.

We wrote, directed and edited the two-minute pieces which were shot in the corner of our livingroom. Nothing ever came of the assignment (besides a freelance paycheck) but we had fun making them.

The first one makes fun of WSJ.com programming. The second one mocks a report about the airline industry.

Doin' The Butt

I don't know what's creepier, Obama looking at the girl's ass or Sarkozy looking at Obama looking at the girl's ass. Does he want a threesome... or a troisome?

I think my husband won the caption contest when he said, " "Oh, yeah, I'd tax that... er tap that."



This morning ABC, the All Barack Channel, tried to restore the president's reputation by showing video which shows POTUS checking his footing not checking out the underage rump. Through their giggling, the GMA hosts do Robert Gibbs' job by pointing out the French Prime Minister has the roving eye, not our guy.

But all it proves is that Barack is a bit more subtle than his French counterpart. Clearly, Obama is multi-tasking. It's the cooler equivalent of a man bending over to pick something up just so he can look up a woman's dress.

As always, it's not the crime, it's the cover-up-- and, apparently, he liked the way her cover-up caressed her larger-than-normal backside.

Yesterday, I laughed at the photo. Today, I'm upset by the spin.

Yesteray, Obama looked at an ass. Today, he defenders are making him look like an ass.

You Change That Shirt Right Now, Young Lady!

It is absolutely inappropriate for an 11-year-old daughter of the President of the United States to wear a T-shirt emblazoned with a political statement while strolling about in another country. Actually, it's absolutely inappropriate for her to wear it in this country as well.

It's not a mere peace sign she's modeling, it's the logo for an anti-nuke group Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. Now, of course, I'm assuming that President Obama agreed with Putin to reduce the stockpile of nuclear weapons merely because he was afraid of getting a raft of shit from Malia.



I don't want my President getting political pressure, subtle or otherwise, from his pre-teen kids. Plus I don't want the rest of the world thinking that the leader of the free world is kiddie-whipped.

I would feel this way if she was donning a Pro-life shirt, a PETA shirt or a Che Guevera long-sleeved hoody. Doesn't Malia have any leftover Obama/Biden 2008 campaign shirts or $50 J-Crew tanks tops she could wear?

Michael Jackson

I just watched ten seconds of the Michael Jackson Memorial Tribute Battle Of The Musical Stars Concert. It was eight seconds too many.

I think I'll pay tribute to the self-proclaimed King of Pop by dangling a baby over a balcony.

Back in December of 1983, the owner of the Comedy Factory Outlet in Philadelphia hosted a toy giveaway party for a group of underprivileged African-American kids. One of the (African-American) comics thought it would be a good idea to play the Thriller video on the club's large video screen.

It wasn't a good idea. In fact, it was a really bad idea.

The kids cried and cried and cried. Afterwards, we laughed and laughed and laughed.

All those kids would be in their early 30's by now. I wonder if they're mourning Michael? Or are they just thinking about the day when Thriller ruined Christmas.


Here's a great video called Origins of The Moonwalk. Proves that Michael Jackson was not as original as some might believe.

Make-Out Sessions

After watching Episode One of our video series "Lying About: Standup" fellow comic, Lisa Corrao joked that my husband and I looked like we were going to make-out. This was particularly funny to me since my husband and I haven't made-out since 1985.

When Brian and I first started dating, we once made-out for two hours on a bench in Center City Philadelphia. Now, we can't even watch a two hour movie without pausing for a bathroom break.

As you get older, your passion doesn't diminish but you do try to hurry things along because you know eventually you will have to pee. Making love all night long is replaced by a desire to sleep through the night without your bladder waking you up at 4 AM.

Youth isn't necessarily wasted on the young, but robust kidneys certainly are.

God Bless America

I just sat on a dock and watched fireworks being shot from Cooper River. It was like having our own private show.

We had hot dogs for lunch, brisket and corn on the cob for dinner and now hubby is making mango rum smoothies.

I love the 4th of July. I love this country.

I Can See Millions From My House

Perhaps it wasn't the best move for Sarah Palin, the politician, to resign as Governor of Alaska, but for Sarah Palin, the mom, it was the smartest thing she could have done.

The negative press her family has received is unprecedented. She should give a perfectly manicured middle-finger to all those who called her daughter a slut, her husband a knuckle-dragger and her baby-- oh wait, it's not even her baby, right?-- a retard.

Sarah should use her popularity to make millions from publishing and television appearances. As Alaska's head moose, she only made $125,000 per year. As a pundit, she'll make sick money. She could follow in Jessica Simpson's footsteps and design a line of high heel shoes. Revlon could sign her to endorse "Hockey Mom" lipstick. Her speaking fees alone will put her "bastard grandson" through college.

If you're going to be in the public eye, with a bulls-eye on your back, you might as well have a savings account that equals the GDP of a small Latin American country.

Run, Sarah, Run... all the way to the bank.

Dinner Was Mighty Fine, Aunt Bea

I joined a Facebook group started by fellow blogger Eric Gigglechick Bennett called "What I Cooked For Dinner Last Night." After posting for the past week or so, I have concluded that hubby and I eat damn well. In fact, we cook such interesting meals that I fear we may intimidate the other members.

Here's our list so far:

Chicken stuffed with pesto, goat cheese and roasted red peppers.

Chicken burgers with Asian coleslaw.

Filet mignon with ginger/bourbon sauce and roasted asparagus.

Salad with lettuce, chicken, red peppers and mango.

Chicken burgers with bean and corn salad.

Pasta with homemade red sauce (hubby only...pesto for this GERD girl).

Meatball sandwiches. (Yes, homemade meatballs!)

Chicken with cous cous and peach/cucumber salsa.

Not bad for an average week.

When my grandmother was in her 70's she suddenly announced one day that she had cooked her last meal. I hope I never get to that point.

Although, I can see a day in the not-so-distant future when I'll announce that I've cleaned my very last dinner dish.

Karl Malden 1912-2009

According to The Washington Post, "no cause of death was reported." Really? No cause of death? Hmmm, do you think he may have died because he was 97-years-old?!

When a person who is three years away from being 100 passes away, the only time the cause of death should be reported is if it's something unexpected like skydiving or stingray piercing or erotic asphyxiation. Otherwise, we'll just assume it's old age.

Karl Malden was married for 70 years. As Alan King would say, "He was survived by his wife!"