Stupid Spam (my favorite luncheon meat)

Spammers suck. I chose those two words to open with, because now I’ll get tons of spam written by spammers trying to pass themselves off as persons who agree with me. To date my anti-spam filter has intercepted 995 spam comments to To celebrate, I’ve decided to respond to some of the more creative and ridiculous comments I have received.

Laundry basket guide in response to:  “The Carver’s Daughter”
…Really cool! I assist your view!…

Chris: Yes, and you also assist my daily chores.

SAMSUNG Widescreen LCD HDTV in response to:  “Life’s A Game”
Ohio, what a good evil plan to get followers. And I like it

Chris: Mississippi, glad you like it. What plan?

Kipu Mo in response to:  “Brain Helmet 2000”
Great tips, these are useful and this site rocks especially for beginners like myself…

Chris: Hey, no problem. Anytime you need more tips on how to defend yourself from zombies using protective helmets coated in imitation brain matter. Let me know. I’m full of ideas.

nisim international in response to:  “Hello Jones”
Wow! Thank you! I always wanted to write in my site something like that. Can I take part of your post to my hair removal service blog?

Chris: Sure, you can take the part where the bullies punch Boris in the stomach. I can see how that would help you remove unwanted hair.

motorcycle accessories in response to:  “Last Aria”
Sorry…I wanted to make a comment a while ago. I believe that it is reasonable. Keep up the fantastic work. I’ll be back soon

Chris: That’s OK Motorcycle Accessories. I think wanting to make a comment awhile ago is very reasonable. Please don’t worry. I’ll keep up the fantastic work and wait for your return.

Adrienne Coldiron in response to:  “Ranger Six”
hehe ok so this is just how stupid I am, halfway through reading through your post I accidentally dropped my mouse and shut down the internet explorer in error and I could not locate your website again until 6 days later to finish reading through from the point i stopped at because I forgot how I linked here to begin with lol anyway it was worth the delay..many thanks

Chris: hehe ok so this is just how stupid I am, halfway through reading this spam comment I accidentally dropped my mouse and shut down the power to half the known world in error and I could not locate the power grid again until 6 days later to restore power and finish reading you spam from the point I stopped because I forgot how stupid you are and was also out of mouthwash so had to go to the pharmacy to get some more lol anyway it was worth forgetting punctuation..many welcomes.

Lazy susan guide in response to:  “-Splat- (it’s not what you think)”
I believed that was extremeley interesting. Thank you to the unusual details. I’ll retain pursuing this….

Chris: I used to think things were extremeley interesting too. Then I remembered there is no such word as extremeley. I’ll let the unusual details know you said thank you. They’ll be pleased you mentioned them. I have a feeling you’ll be retaining pursuing this for a while. Sort of like how you retain water. I believed I was interested in lazy-susans, but the doctors helped me.


I hope you got a kick out of some of these. Let me know and I’ll post some more. What are some of the spam comments you’ve received on your blogs?

The Collector

Robert dragged the chair across the kitchen floor and admonished himself for sleeping late. He had to hurry. His mother could awaken any moment to put a stop to his plan. His thoughts raced back to yesterday’s conversation.

“No Robert, you’ll just have to wait till it falls out on its own. I’ll not have you ruin an entire box of cereal with your hands.”

“I’ve washed my hands; they’re clean.”

“No, now that’s the end of it.”


“No buts! Now hand me the box.”

A loud dragging brought him back to the present as it echoed through the house. He cursed himself for not paying attention. He couldn’t blow this by being careless. He had to pull this off now or face another day’s wait. Everything pointed to the prize being at the very bottom of the box. Waiting wasn’t an option; he needed it today. He had to know if he would be the first in his class to collect the rarest prize.

Robert’s fingers barely reached the box as he stood on tip-toes atop the rickety kitchen chair. He paused to listen for his mum. The snores had stopped which meant she was probably in the bathroom. He had less than a minute to retrieve the prize. He ran to the table and smiled at his brilliance. No time to open the box slowly, he had to do it before she stopped him.

The bathroom door opened. In seconds she would be within eye sight of the kitchen table, she’d see him for sure. It was now or never. He tipped the entire box of cereal over.

“Robert! What are you doing?”

“I just wanted the prize.”

“Well now you’ve ruined the entire-” She stopped when she saw what he had done. “Well, Robert, that’s a fine solution, using my mixing bowl to hold all the cereal. Well done.”

Robert smiled and carefully took the prize packet from the top of the pile. He knew he had to clean up before she would allow him to open the brown paper packet. The slow careful pour of from the mixing bowl into the box seemed to take forever.

At last he was able to examine his prize. He picked the packet up and rolled it around in his fingers trying to make out the general shape. It didn’t seem to feel like the others. His heart fluttered as he tore into the packet.


All the waiting and planning had paid off. Robert raced from the kitchen to his room, burst through the door and threw himself into his chair. He gazed lovingly at his prized collection of wildlife statuettes meticulously arranged on the shelf by his window. His eyes fell instinctively to the empty spot. He imagined himself museum curator as he placed his new acquisition amongst his collection. Panda, Kodiak, Polar and now Grisly; the first in school to have all the bears. Nothing to do now but wait for Monday morning and announce his discovery to the world.

This week’s story was inspired by the [fiction]Friday prompt at WriteAnything. “While digging in a cereal box for the toy surprise, a child makes a grisly discovery”. I hope you had fun reading it.

Deceptions and Aliens

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to go back to posting a few #fridayflash pieces based on prompts from the totally awesome This week’s prompt: “Pick a book of fiction you’d never read (e.g., if you read sci-fi, pick a romance). Open to a random page and read the last couple paragraphs of the page. DO NOT TURN THE PAGE. Now continue writing the story. Feel free to change the genre as you write.”

Ready? Strap in.


From the novel “Deceptions” by Judith Michael
Copyright 1982 by JM Productions Ltd.
Page 321

“Garth removed the ivory combs in her hair and the heavy waves fell over her shoulders, bronze in the dim light. He looked at her slender body and passed his hands along the clear, silken skin as if he had never seen it before. Her ripe fullness lifted toward him, her head high and proud as he gazed at her. I am a part of us, her eyes said, and my beauty is greater because you desire me.

Once again he gathered her into his arms, her softness curving against the muscles of his arms and stomach and legs, the warmth of her body merging into his. They held each other, treasuring their desire, for now they knew it would be fulfilled. At last he bent his-”
head away from hers. Thank God, she thought. Another second and his breath would have knocked me out. Inter-species breeding was still new and apparently there were still some kinks to be worked out. That’s OK, she thought chuckling to herself. I have some kinks of my own that need sorting first.

“Why are you laughing?” asked Garth. His smoldering eyes searched her voluptuous body for answers.

“It’s just I’ve never seen eyes actually smolder before,” said Katherine. “In my world it’s a horrible cliché.” She bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to insult him, especially now. In his current state of full arousal he could accidentally kill her.

“I’m sorry,” he said climbing off her.

“Please don’t leave.” She grabbed one of his eight arms and pulled him back on top of her. “I find the smell quite pleasurable. It turns me on.”

She lifted her head to his and kissed his lips, tasting the warmth of smoked Gouda as her tongue explored the depths of his mouth.

“Oh Garth,” she whispered, her lips brushing his antennae. They lay entwined on the hotel bed, Garth’s full weight pressed upon her.

“Garth,” she breathed, pounding her fists against his back and the bed. “Garth,” she moaned, it was barely audible. “GARTH!”

“Oh dear Jebbus!” he exclaimed shifting his weight off her. “How clumsy of me to forget you don’t have an exoskeleton.” Katherine lay panting on the bed. “Did I hurt you? Should we stop?”

No you didn’t hurt me and no we shouldn’t stop,” she said tracing her long slender finger down his thorax toward his groin. “It’s been too long since I’ve had something between my legs that wasn’t plugged into the wall.”

Then in an surprising turn of events the reader didn’t see coming she devoured him and thought his leftovers tasted better the second day.

Author’s note Redux: See, this is why I have no business writing romance. And by the way books from the ‘free’ table at the annual library book sale aren’t always worth it.

The Eye Candy Also Flies

Author’s note: If you haven’t read “Of Panties and Pirates”, you can do so here. It’s not necessary, but you’ll get more of the jokes. Hope you enjoy.


The damn woman is as stubborn as she is sexy. And her refusal to look at me is especially infuriating. It’s a hell of a view though.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should get at least one or two weapons installed on this ship of yours.”

“I heard you the first thousand times,” she says. Finally she swivels her chair around and stands to face me. “I’m a trader, not a pirate. I have standards.”

“I’m not suggesting you become a pirate. I’m suggesting you protect yourself better. You have a reputation now.”

“Thanks to you and your little…” she glances down at my crotch. “Trigger finger. The answer is no.”

She pushes past me and exits the bridge.

I follow her out the hatch and into the kitchen. I pour us some coffee and we sit down at the table. The silence hangs there for a while as we sip our drinks and act nonchalant. I decide to press a little further.

“If I walked up to a woman on the street and told her I was thirsty and wanted some milk, she’d probably slap me in the face. But if that same woman happened to be standing next to a cow, she’d bend over and squeeze the cow’s tit for me.”

She looks at me like I have Tribbles crawling out of my pants.

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that everything has its own context. Pirates pick the weakest ships. If they see you are armed they’ll leave you alone.”

“Oh yeah? Try to guess what context this is,” she says and flips me the bird.

For a second I forget what were talking about because all I can see is her long, slender finger and its glossy, deep red nail. My god, the places that thing’s been.

She rolls her eyes and slams her cup on the table.

“If other traders see I’m armed, they won’t trade with me. And if the cops see I’m armed, I’ll be forever handing over my manifest and sitting in queue waiting to dock at every port while being scanned for contraband. And if pirates see I’m armed they’ll think I’m some piss-ant space jockey trying to horn in on their racket and they’ll blast me anyway. Yeah, you really thought this through didn’t you.”

“I’m just concerned about you Jess, that’s all.”

The proximity alarm cuts us off. We race back to the cockpit. Jessie throws herself into her chair and tells me to take the pilot’s seat.

“But I’m not the pilot.”

“Well they don’t know that do they? Sit down!”

I sit and she turns on the com.

“Trader vessel, you are targeted. Prepare to be boarded or we will fire on you.”

“What did I tell you? If you had-”

“You finish that thought Devon, and I’ll gouge your eye out with my thumb. If I had guns we’d already be dead. That’s an Archer Heavy Raider. Basically a space going weapons platform. What we need is a good pilot. But you saw to that didn’t you?”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Maybe, but you shouldn’t have shot at him like that.”

“No I mean, son of a bitch. Sit down and strap in.”

I guess the look on my face was serious enough for her not to ask why. She sits down and I start flicking switches.

“What the hell are you doing? We’re not fast enough to out run them.”

“Don’t need to out run them, just out fly them. Archer Raiders have a blind spot.”

“Are you high?”

By now the pirates must know were running so I don’t have time to answer. I hit the thrusters as if we are making a break for it then shut them off again as soon as they begin pursuit. They fly right past me. What most people don’t know is the Archer’s triangular thruster configuration leaves a nice pocket directly behind the ship just big enough for a small vessel like ours to hide indefinitely.

“Let’s see your old pilot do that.”

I’m smiling like an idiot and Jessie looks pissed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can fly?”

“Because I don’t want to be part of your crew. I like what we have. I didn’t want it to feel weird when we do those nasty things in your bunk.”

“If we get out of this I’m going to kill you.”

“With what? I have all your panties.”

“Just get us out of here,” she says and folds her arms across her chest.

Man she’s sexy when she pouts.

“Only if you promise to hire another pilot.”

“Now’s not the time for demands.”

“Yeah it is. It’s the perfect time for demands.”

Before I can say another word Jessie’s arm shoots out and grabs me by my collar. She pulls me in close and kisses me. A deep, rough, lustful kiss. It ends with my bottom lip pinched in her teeth. She shoves me back into my chair and cuffs me in the head.

“You’re an ass.”

Duce In The Machine

I’m making good time; flying down route nine like the hounds of hell are chasing me. It’s been miles since I’ve seen a house or store or anything but trees when the engine starts rebelling. A terrible metal on metal symphony tells me the engine is dead. I’m still about a hundred miles from the airport. If I’m late my girl friend flies to Paris and out of my life, probably for good. Why did I have to be such an ass. I should have known better than to Facebook an apology. The six pack of Guinness must have clouded my judgment. She took my post as a slam and said goodbye.

There’s 100 miles stopping me from telling her how sorry I am and asking her to marry me. An act of desperation I can live with. Assuming I can get there in the next four hours. It would have been plenty of time if not for the damn car. The engagement ring in my pocket sticks into my leg like an annoying little brother, poking at me, reminding me I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere. I put the car in neutral and start pushing. A small town comes into view as I round a corner. It’s slightly uphill but love has a way of giving you a little extra strength when you need it. The tires crunch gravel as I roll into the garage. A young man ambles over. He pulls a toothpick from his lips and flashes a friendly smile.

“Out of gas?” he asks.

“No, the engine died. It sounded pretty bad. Can you take a look?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says as he extends his hand. “Name’s Dillon, but folks call me Duce, on account-a I can get most cars running again in a couple hours.”

“Well, that’s great Duce ‘cause I’m in a real hurry. I have to get to the airport before the love of my life leaves for Paris,” I say, hoping my story will cause him to take pity on me.

“Now that’s a challenge I’m up for. Help me push it inside and I’ll see what I can do.”

Together we push my old mustang into the garage. I pop the hood and we both peer inside. I have no idea what I’m looking at but Duce grumbles and nods his head.

“I can fix it,” he says with plenty of confidence. “Let’s see if I can live up to my name. There’s a diner around the corner. They have great blueberry pie.”

He’s right, the pie is amazing. It makes me feel guilty enjoying it though when I should be heading to the airport. I tell myself there’s nothing I can do. My fate, our fate, is in the hands of Duce. I try to pass the remaining time by reading the local paper but it’s no use. The clock is ticking and I need to be on the road. I decide to head back and check on the progress. I round the corner and see Duce elbow deep in the machine. Before I can ask he slams the hood shut.

“Just in time,” he says.

He steps to the driver’s side and slides behind the wheel. The engine roars to life sounding better than the day I bought it.

“Duce, you are a god.” I say as I reach for my wallet. “What do I owe you?”

“Oh, let’s call it two hundred.”

I hand over my credit card and follow him into the office. He runs it and hands it back. I pull out a fifty to tip him for his help.

“I can’t thank you enough. If I leave now I can still make it.”

With a face splitting grin I jump behind the wheel, turn the key and shift it into gear. I smash the pedal to the floor and the engine races. It takes a second to realize I’m not moving. I frantically shift in and out of gear again. Still nothing. My transmission is gone. Duce is still in his office. He doesn’t know. I jump out of the car and race back in.

“Duce, the transmission isn’t working, I need you!”

“No, man. You need a miracle.”

The Crazy Mixed Up Day of Bob and Tony

Tony stared at his friend in total disbelief.

“So, what your saying is, you bought a pan flute at a store called ‘Pete’s Pan Flute N Things’ which just so happens to have had its grand opening this morning, right as you passed by on your way home from work.”

“Yup,” said Bob. “Cool, huh?”

Bob began to blow on his newly acquired pan flute.

Toodlie, doodlie, doodlie-doo.

Tony winced as Bob kept blowing across the pipes of his new musical instrument.

“Seriously, dude. What the hell?” said Tony when Bob’s bad blowing of the pipes finally ended.

“Come on Tone, you know I’ve always wanted to be like Sam Fear, Master of the Pan Flute,” replied Bob. “And when I saw that store, I figured why not. Lots of guys like the flute.”

“It’s Zamphir, you frickin’ moron” said Tony as he cuffed his friend in the back of the head. “And no, I had no idea that your life long dream was to play the pan flute as well as a guy, whose name you don’t even know, to a room full of screaming grannies and their emasculated husbands.”

Bob ignored his friend’s tirade and piped his way into his room. He practiced blowing his new pipes throughout the night finally falling asleep around 4:00 in the morning. Tony on the other hand was unable to fall asleep. He crept into Bob’s room and found his friend sound asleep, grinning ear to ear and clutching his damned pan flute. Tony was able to carefully pry the cursed musical instrument from Bobby’s clutches. His plan was simple, return the flute and tell Bob something stupid like space monkeys had broken into the apartment and stolen it. Bob would be pissed, but he’d get over it.

Tony returned several hours later, flute in hand and confronted his friend.

“Uh, hey Bob, I thought you said you bought your flute at ‘Pete’s Pan Flute N Things.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Why?”

“Well, when I went there, there was just a store called ‘Ronnie’s Roommate Finders’”

“What are you talking about?”

“The store were you bought this stupid flute doesn’t exist.”

“No, I mean why were you trying to find ‘Pete’s Pan Flute N Things’?”

“Doesn’t matter, the point is the place doesn’t exist.”

“That’s crap. Come on, I needed to stop there to pick up some pan flute music books and a swanky new carrying case anyway.”

They pulled up to the storefront and watched in disbelief as the sign that said ‘Ronnie’s Roommate Finders’ erased itself and became a blank piece of wood.

“I say we go in there and see what the hell is going on here,” said Bob.

“Word up,” said Tony as he did his best to get into a B-boy stance. It was Bob’s turn to do some cuffing.

They walked inside and approached the counter. The store was empty except for a small bell and a sign that said “Ring me”. Tony rang the bell and they waited for someone to appear.

“Can I help you?” said a creepy old man. He looked very cliché.

“What is this place?” asked Tony

“Well,” said the old man, “It’s whatever you want it to be.” He pointed to Bob. “You desperately wanted to play the pan flute, so it became a pan flute store, and you,” he pointed to Tony, “wanted a new roommate, so it became a roommate locating service.”

“Holy crap!” said Tony. He grabbed Bob by the arm. “Don’t you see what this means?!”

“Yes!” said Bob as he grabbed Tony’s other arm. “You want another damn roommate, but you ain’t getting my CD’s.”

“No you imbecile, we can finally get whatever we want.”

They were wearing mile wide smiles as they ran out of the store and across the street. They turned to face each other.

“OK, Tone, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think so, Bob. Ready? ”

They both closed their eyes and began concentrating really hard on what they wanted. A few seconds later words began forming on the store’s sign. “Petunia’s Peanut Butter Sandwich Shoppe”

Bob laughed hysterically. Tony slapped him across the face.

“This is serious you dink, now stop screwing around.” Tony’s face was stern. “We have a shot at riches beyond our wildest dreams, or a bevy of hotties just waiting for us and you want to piss it away on fluffernutters?”

“OK, OK, for real this time. Ready? Go.”

The sign blanked out then began to rewrite itself again. “Nancy’s Nudes”. Tony noticed a small sign in the window that read: “1500 Gold Bars Free With Every Nude”. Directly underneath a faded sign read: “Buy one nude person get two free”. The two friends, giddy with anticipation, burst through the doors of the shop. This time the creepy old man was replaced with fifty completely naked men.

Tony closed his eyes and shook his head. As he opened his eyes he slowly turned to look at Bob.

“Seriously, Dude?”

Bob just smirked and arched an eyebrow.

“Fine,” said Tony. “But after this we’re going back out there and this time you better think ‘New roommate’. And I get the CD’s.”

Author’s Note: OK this one was a departure for me. The story was inspired by the prompt: On the way home from work your character stops into a music store and purchases an unusual musical instrument that they’ve always wanted to learn to learn to play. Why today? I hope you enjoy this little tale. Please leave me a comment and let me know.

I’m Green Because I Hate You.

Hey it’s Earth Day. Happy Earth Day. Wow, Earth Day. It seems like only yesterday it was Earth Day. I’m working under the assumption (as are most people, apparently) that simply acknowledging Earth Day will somehow make any kind of difference. It seems to me that the best way to help the Earth is to not go green. This may even be the shortest route to world peace. Follow my logic here. If we all started leaving our lights on, cranking the heat/air conditioning up and driving ridiculously large SUVs then together we could deplete the world’s oil supply, thereby forcing clean energy into the forefront. Aren’t we fighting a war for oil now, or was it terrorism? I can’t remember, never mind. We can’t fight over something that isn’t there. Current protest strategies by individuals, small interest groups and grassroots efforts will never change big oil. There is simply too much money in the oil business for them to care about popular opinion. So let’s beat them at their own game. Consume the product so voraciously that it just goes away.

Aright, calm down. I know I’m over simplifying this and yes, I know that just about everything in our modern world including agriculture, food manufacturing, medicine, the economy etc, etc, is based around oil. I also know it’s not feasible for us to burn all the oil that’s left on the planet just by driving more and turning up the heat. Can’t you people recognize satire for crying out loud?

OK, you’re breathing normally again? Let’s continue. There are a lot of interesting articles floating around the internet concerning peak oil.  Read them. They are actually quite interesting. It doesn’t help that a lot of the good information initially was given by a bunch of activist eco-dinks. You know the type; they mean well but are so impassioned about their ideology that they feel compelled to stand in your personal space while they espouse their rhetoric. All the while looking slightly confused as to why you aren’t signing any of the 12 partitions they have on their clipboards which are conveniently equipped with a piece of hemp twine tied to a soy-based ink pen. You just want to stuff their esophagus with granola bars to shut them up for ten seconds and seriously explain to them that many people find the smell of Patchouli slightly off-putting. They are actually getting in they way of the message they are trying to give. In fairness to the eco-dinks, many people, myself included, actually agree with many of the points they are trying to make. Here is a sad reality that many of us learned long ago: you have to fit into society for society to listen to you. Fortunately there are some legitimate news programs and shows hosted by celebrities and experts, like on the Planet Green network, that are starting to get noticed and gain real credibility. Oh yeah, didn’t Al Gore make a documentary about something important?

Despite my angst and cynicism, when it’s all said and done I just can’t help myself. Doing things that are good for the environment makes me feel good. Besides, you know as well as I do that it’s not money which moves us into action, but inconvenience. Until it is a real pain in the ass for us we won’t demand any sort of changes. “Experts” say it won’t be a pain in the ass for us for about 50 years so screw it. We’ll just bury our heads in the oil soaked sand and wait it out. Despite how much I want to despoil our resources so we are forced into the inconvenience that will start changing things for the better I just can’t bring myself to do it. I guess the ends don’t justify the means after all. So there you have it, plant a tree, recycle, drive big cars and leave your lights on. Oh, and happy Earth Day.