That's just what they are. Personal websites by everyday people (O.K., I included one candidate for congress, but his site simply fits) who have something to say about life in these United States, what they like and what they don't like.
Please note that these websites express the personal opinions of the people maintaining them. The selection has been mostly random and neither mirrors my opinions nor do I consider it to be representative of the USA as a whole.
Among my small circle of friends at the time, lawn jobs were the chosen form of late-night entertainment. For those of you who don't know what a lawn job is, a lawn job consists of driving on someone's lawn with your car, hopefully leaving an indelible impression in their grass. The lawn job is not as popular as it used to be, since if you were to try it today you'd probably get shot.
I got to spend the time counting down the time until the local *ahem* "Upstanding Citizens" were waiting to empty as many clips as they could into the air. And I wasn't disappointed. As soon as midnight struck, all of a sudden it sounded like the fucking battle of Gettysburg except with fully automatic weapons, 10 round clip handguns and shotguns. I was totally amazed and frightened at the same time. I ducked into the pump station. I figured that the cinder block bricks would/should stop most rounds flying through the air. Then I looked up at the roof. Plywood. "Oh!! This is fucking GREAT!" I thought. So as the night air was filled with constant gunshots and soon the sounds of sirens, there I sat with my head under a 8" metal pipe (Thinking that this was the only thing I had to offer any real protection for my head should bullets come crashing down through the roof) for about the 20 minutes it took for the gunfire to finally subside. I was at one with all the Black Widows
It amazes me what the public school systems get away with. You hear about this no tolerance going on but I don't see it. I see kids getting in trouble for stupid shit like the color of their hair or the amount of earrings they wear. I don't see anyone's life ruined by sitting next to some kid in class that has blue hair. What I do see is the school system using the tragic occurrences from the past year to further their popularity and careers. The violence in the schools hasn't stopped from what I've seen. Okay, some of it has in the elementary schools. But what about the middle schools and high schools? The impression I'm getting is that as long as the kids don't have guns or bombs, there are no problems. It makes me fucking sick.
President George W. Bush and Secretary Of State Colin Powell sat in the only bar in Crawford, Texas, drinking ice cold bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon while discussing the impending war with Iraq.
A local rancher walked in and noticed the two of them sitting way in the back, next to a jukebox playing some Willie Nelson.
The man went over to the bar and, after getting a beer, asked the bartender, "That is the President and that Powell feller sittin' over there ain't it?"
"Yep, that's them."
The rancher, after taking a couple of gulps from his tasty alcoholic beverage, decided to walk over and introduce himself. They all shook each other's hands and the President asked him to sit down with them.
"So," the rancher said. "What in the heck are you fellas doing here?"
"Besides waiting on some bar-b-que from across the street," Bush said, "we're planning World War III."
"Damn straight! I've been waitin' for y'all to get that sum bitch Saddam."
"We're going to kill him, 40 million Iraqis and one blonde with big breasts."
"A blonde with big breasts? Why her?"
The President turned to Powell, punched him playfully in the arm and said, "See! I told you no one would give a shit about Saddam and 40 million Iraqis!"
Hi there! I'm Sarah Jane, a nubile-yet-confused playgirl living in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada. Welcome to my web bachelorette pad, where I reveal all the titillating details of the exciting, action-packed life I lead out here in the desert. While you're here you can read sensational essays on varied topics ranging from my pink Lincoln to my gun to my beloved trapoline.
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