Watching the DNC this week I can’t help but think about the issue of alternative fuels. I never thought corn-derived ethanol was the answer. Using a food source for fuel when billions of people are starving around the world seems like a dumb idea to me. We need to find ways to create fuel from sources that will never be depleted or dependent on foreign countries.

A couple of ideas come to mind.

First consider using methane gas from cow farts. Research has already shown that cow toots are a big contributor of greenhouse gas emissions. A bag could be strapped around the ass of every cow to capture the gas which could then be used to fill our tanks. And when a cow reaches a certain age, it would be chopped it into delicious cuts of steak.

Another idea, which I’ve mentioned before, is finding a way to use human urine as a source of energy. Think about it - whenever your car runs out of gas, you would simply remove the gas cap and pee (women would require a funnel). I hope this idea comes to fruition some day because I could drive my couch to Cleveland.

I know my uncle. He’s as honest as me. And I’m as honest as a Denver man can be.

Great…

I found a way to get your money’s worth at the Ameristar Sunday Brunch - eat a little food and then spend the next two hours guzzling champagne cocktails. And when you leave, don’t forget the complimentary peppermill.

Tom made it back safely from the Playboy Mansion. Although I did receive a text message on Sunday saying he lost his keys and wallet in the Grotto. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Have you ever seen a chick putting on lip gloss and asked, “Why don’t you put that on my yogurt slinger, and then you can kill two birds with one stone?”

Me neither.

- Psychiatric ward answering machine. Thanks, Lisa F.

- Catch and Chug at Wrigley Field.

- Michael Phelps is a bad sport.

I just want you to know who I am.

Three significant things are happening this weekend on the SOB:

1. Issac is moving back to St. Louis
After a year-stint in Michigan, he’s decided to move back to the Lou. That’s the good news. The bad news is he’s still a Democrat (his words; not mine). 

Axe not what your country can do for you…

2. Gina Party’s last weekend at Melrose Place
Someone asked if we were having a going away party for GP. The funny thing is the thought never crossed my mind because every weekend with her is a party.

3. Tom is going to a party at the Playboy Mansion
Okay, this news kind of threw me. No offense to Tom, but how does a guy from St. Louis score a sweet ticket like this? By knowing a model and having a valid credit card - that’s how. 

I couldn’t go the Playboy Mansion without wearing a jock strap because I’d be sporting wood all night.

Stupidity Tax Offense: Watching someone carrying your heavy-ass furniture and saying, “Be careful - don’t hurt yourself.” Cha Ching! - $10.

- Obama is looking more like Jimmy Carter every day. 

- Kite surfer tries to ride out Tropical Storm Fay.

- Ernest Borgnine shares his secret to longevity. If that’s the secret, I’m going to live another 100 years.

- Bia and Branca: The hottest chicks at the Olympics.

- I like Olympic Butts, and I can not lie.

Beware of the pool, blue bottomless pool. It leads you straight right through the gate that opens on the moon. 

The Riverfront Times is accepting online votes for Best of St. Louis 2008. If you feel inclined, vote for The Summer of Benny as Best Blog and/or Best Local Website. And tell your friends (if you have any).

Here are a few rules to follow: 

1) All ballots must contain your name address and phone number, for verification purposes. One vote per person.

2) To be counted, a ballot must contain at least ten (10) filled-in picks, and no pick may be repeated more than three times.

All ballots must be received by Monday, September 8.

Dani-girl should have the link to the Ms. Westport finals to me shortly. I will get it up as soon as I can. Drink, I said get it up. 

I’ve been to the edge. And there I stood and looked down.

Unbelievable… My phone rang on Friday night and guess what? - Wrong number.

“Is this Jimmy John’s?” The lady asked.

“Yep.”

“Are you still open?”

“No, we close at 8.” 

I went to Jimmy John’s website and discovered that my telephone number is similar to one of their new locations. But instead of getting upset every time I receive a call, I’m going to turn a negative into a positive. I went to their store, ordered a sandwich, and asked for a few extra bags and wrapping paper. I also picked up a menu.

So the next time I get one of their calls, I’ll take the order, wrap a couple of cheese sandwiches, and make the delivery myself. I’ll be long gone with their cash by the time they discover the grift.

And they’ll be more careful the next time they dial a number.

- I could have bought Uncle Rico’s van.

- Amazing guitar player.

Well we all shine on.

Several years ago I had a landline telephone number that was nearly identical to that of the Dodge dealership across the street. I think they were the same except for the last number.

By the way kids, people used to have telephones that were connected to a jack in the wall. You can Google it if you want, but I’m going to include a chapter on this topic in the book I’m writing: Electronics for Dummies - How to get your TV to work without plugging in that cable thingy (and more do-it-yourself tips).

Anyway, I was constantly receiving wrong number calls. One Saturday I received a call and decided enough was enough.

“Is this the Dodge dealership?” asked the man when I answered the phone.

“Yeah, how can I help you?” I replied.

“Can you transfer me to the service department?”

“No problem.”

I took a few sips from my pork chop in a can, altered my voice, and said, “Service department, can I help you?”

“This is Bart Bishop, and I’m calling to see if my car is ready.”

“Hold on,” I told him.

I held the phone in the air, scratched my nuts, and after 30 seconds or so, replied, “Nope.”

“But you told me it would be ready today,” he explained.

“And now I’m telling you it’s not.”

“This is total bullsh*t! We’re supposed to leave on vacation tomorrow. Let me talk to the manager.”

“You’re talking to him, big guy. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about your vacation because we’re ass-deep in alligators here. But we do have a rental car desk in the lobby if you’re interested.”

“I’m coming up there right now and you better have the keys to my car.”

“No problem, meat smack. Make sure you ask for the service manager.”

I thought about walking over there to see what happened. But I was watching college football, and rooting for a back door cover on a 3-team parlay.

I’m beginning to think, Baby you don’t know.

Maribeth leaves a floater

Tonight is going to be brief because I have to take a nap. My alarm is set for 1 AM, so I can watch Women’s Beach Volleyball. Yeah, I know, American swimmer Michael Phelps is all the rage at the games right now. But there’s something special about watching bikini-clad women playing barefoot in the sand. Maybe it’s just me.

Update: Beach volleyball wasn’t even on this morning. But I stayed up until 4 AM watching women’s gymnastics during the prime-time replay. Jerry, you stand on the threshold to the magical world of sensual delights that most men dare not dream of! I also saw a commercial promoting the Knight Rider remake on NBC this fall. Great.

Gina Party got a new nickname over the weekend- Headline News. She received the new moniker because she tends to repeat the same stories every 30 minutes after a few cans of barley juice.

But her loss of memory gave us an idea for a business - Gina Party Therapy. The concept is for people that might be too embarrassed to go to normal therapy. An office visit will cost $50 and a 12-pack of cold water sandwiches. After GP consumes the sandwiches, the patient will be allowed 30 minutes to discuss their problems. Once their time is up, they can leave knowing they got some personal issues off their chest. More importantly, the doctor-client privilege will never be jeopardized because the therapist won’t remember a thing.

King is coming into town from Cali over the Labor Day weekend. Let us pray.

- Military humor. - Thanks Tory, K.

- Fake, but funny, Guinness beer commercial. - Thanks, Tom and Doug O. NSFW

I need my love to translate.