The news that Anheuser-Busch may be sold to an overseas company is more depressing than hearing stories about breast reduction surgery – which, in my opinion, goes against the laws of nature. Sorry, but some girls were meant to have really big boobs, and I was meant to stare at them.

Get a good look, Costanza?

If A-B does get sold to InBev, I may pull a Susan Sarandon and move out of St. Louis. You see, Susan Sarandon said that she’ll move out of the country if John McCain gets elected President in November. Get it? Okay, never mind.

Below is part of a script for a new Bud Light Real Men of Genius commercial I’m working on.

InBev Presents Real Corporate Takeovers
[Real Corporate Takeovers]
Today we salute you, Mr. Anheuser-Busch Shareholder.
[Mr. Anheuser-Busch Shareholder]
While some people might think 65 dollars a share seems like a fair price to sell out an All-American company, you say, “Hell no.”
[It's the King of Beers]

I was hoping get more written last night, but drank too many Budweisers.

And Billy likes to peel the labels from his bottles of Bud.

ET phone home…

One of the worst things I ever did happened during the summer after my high school graduation. I think I was supposed to be mowing the lawn or something, but floating around the pool drinking dad’s beer seemed like a better idea.

I had the place to myself until I heard two car doors slam shut. It was my mom and her friend returning home from a day of shopping. And I thought it would be funny if they walked into the house, looked out the kitchen window, and saw me floating face down in the water.

They rushed outside in a panic, screaming hysterically.

I jumped up and tried to act startled. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“We thought you had drowned,” my mother’s friend said in between breaths.

“Nah, I was just diving for pennies.”

I hadn’t seen my mom that disappointed since she found out I gave her graduation ring to my girlfriend, Angie, in the fourth grade. Angie grew up to become a stripper. I sure can pick ‘em.

Quote of the Day

A Taxpayer voting for a Democrat is like a chicken voting for Colonel Sanders.

Thanks, Tory K.

- Man busted for DWI while driving motorized cooler.

- Red Sox fan gets taken down.

- Endless David Caruso one-liners from CSI: Miami.

- CSI: Jim Carrey

- Read President Bush’s resignation speech. Thanks, Tom.

- Rap battle goes bad. NSFW

- News reporter shows that he’s bilingual. NSFW

- A video portrait of Barack Hussein Obama. Thanks, Tom.

I’ll tip my hat to the new constitution. Take a bow for the new revolution.

Looks like more than one Big Brown got taken down last weekend.

I’ve noticed lately how much I appreciate the self check-out machines at the grocery store. The benefits of avoiding interaction with other humans are immeasurable.

For example, I don’t get upset anymore when the girl ringing my groceries stops working, and says to a co-worker, “I’m fixin’ to get up on out uh herre at fo’.”

Another improvement is that I no longer get embarrassed when buying personal items. Things like Nair and condoms used to make me a nervous wreck while waiting in line. Now I just hide unsettling purchases underneath a carton of eggs, and swipe them at my convenience.

Sometimes I make fun of myself, but people don’t usually notice. They’re too busy wondering why I chose Spanish for the language.

Go ahead, bite the big apple. Don’t mind the maggots.

Start spreading the news… 

No, I’m not in New York for the Belmont Stakes. I will, however, be watching Big Brown’s attempt at the Triple Crown from the friendly confines of the Melrose Place pool.

My first trip to the track was in 1984 when a friend and I were in L.A. for the Olympics. We had a few days without tickets to the games, so we were looking for other things to do. One night we stumbled upon Los Alamitos race track on a map. And by we, I mean me. I didn’t know until we got there, but they raced only quarter horses; not thoroughbreds. But, hey, a win is a win.

A couple of days later, we drove to San Diego. My friend dropped me off at Del Mar, and he went to see the Queen Mary. I still don’t know how he expected to win money on a ship.

As the picture in today’s post would indicate, I’ve been to several race tracks over the years. The stories I’ve collected will be included in my autobiography – Life… 6 Furlongs at a Time.

I share an excerpt from the book below:

One day at Fairmount Park, I ran out of money, and slid my credit card through the cash advance machine. I enjoyed taking advantage of the generous 28% APR my credit card company offered for this type of transaction.

The machine usually read, “Proceed to Cashier,” but this particular time it read, “Pick up the handset.” So, I picked up the phone, and the line began to ring.

“Hello. Is this Benny?” the operator asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“We’ve noticed you’ve made several cash advance transactions from this location, and want to make sure you don’t have a gambling problem.”

“I don’t think I have a gambling problem. But I’ll admit to having a bit of a cash problem at the moment.”

“Your transaction has been approved. Proceed to the cashier.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

SOB Picks for the 2008 Belmont Stakes (in order):
Big Brown
Ready’s Echo (Abby’s Pick)
Tale of Ekati
Casino Drive SCRATCHED

The Belmont undercard has a couple of races that caught my attention – Benny the Waiter in Race #5 and Benny the Bull in Race #6. I believe that’s why Daily Doubles were created.

I’m leaving today. I want to be a part of it.

During a meeting today, I discovered that a customer was good friends with a former high school buddy of mine. Actually, we started hanging out in the 7th grade, but our friendship soured when he became a Born Again Christian shortly after college.

I didn’t have a problem with him being born again. He seemed happy, and I supported his decision. But what I couldn’t understand was how my drinking buddy turned into Billy Graham overnight.

He broke the news to me during a telephone conversation on New Year’s Eve.

“What are we doing tonight?” I asked.

“Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your savior?” he replied.

“Yes.”

“I mean really accepted him into your heart?”

“Dude, you know I’m a Christian. But what does that have to do with where we’re partying tonight?”

“I’m going to stay home and read the Gospels. I’ll say a prayer for you.”

“Whatever. I have more phone calls to make.”

Days later he would explain his decision. ”I’ve had a lot of close calls in my life, and most of them were with you.”

Fair enough. We did have some close calls. Like the time I drove three hours to the dog track after tossing down a few too many cold ones. I fell asleep at the wheel, and woke up to find my car plowing through a corn field.

His face was as white as a ghost. But hey, we survived. And if I remember correctly, the two of us split a pretty nice trifecta that night.

But there were good times, too. Ones that didn’t involve near death experiences.

I think of the time in 8th grade when we devised a plan to disrupt a junior high basketball game after learning it was National Raisin Day. We pulled panty hose over our heads, ensconced our bodies in large trash bags, and stormed the court tossing miniature boxes of raisins into the crowd. The place went wild. Their response was certainly worth the few hours of detention we received.

And he knows I’m right.

The weather finally cooperated, and we got our opening day at the pool. After last week’s debacle, I didn’t bother watching any forecasts. I woke up, saw the sun and packed a cooler.

Why does the local weather forecast last longer than 30 seconds anyway? Tell me what it’s supposed to do today, show the extended forecast and move on. I don’t care about the barometric pressure or dew point. I don’t even know what they are.

I live in St. Louis, so I don’t need to know that it’s raining in Cleveland. If I’m traveling, there’s a 24/7 Weather Channel and something called the Internet.

I’m serious about this. The local weather segment could be reduced by five minutes, and the extra time given to sports. This would allow for content more appealing to the average viewer – like showing the replay of the feature race at Churchill Downs.

I wanna wake up where you are. I won’t say anything at all.