Welcome to Out Of My Mind ~ the column that’s not afraid to ask, “You talkin to me? Are you talkin to me? Well, I don’t see nobody else around, you must be talkin to me. Are you talkin to me?”

They’re calling this the coldest winter in over 25 years. Snowstorm in Vermont set an all-time record, midwest freezing with temperatures in Iowa reaching 30 below. People freezing to death in Detroit when their power was cut off, Miami the coldest it’s been in decades, Florida governor signing an emergency order for relief. Gas supplies in Briton running out, old people there burning books to stay warm, called out the armed forces to help rescue 1,000 stranded motorists trapped in the snow. Seoul, Korea buried under the heaviest snow in over 70 years and China rationing power. I don’t know, but if global warming gets any worse, AlGore, we’re all gonna freeze to death. AlGore, I say, we’re all gonna freeze to death.

No, seriously, it’s so cold that politicians are walking around with their hands in their own pockets. Bada-BING!

I read where the Chicago police department wants to scrap entrance exams for minorities in order to get more people of color on the force. Also, they’re going to count all the hours spent handcuffed in the backseat of a police car as law enforcement experience. Hey, peeps, all I know is what I see on Cops, bad boy, bad boy.

… what’cho gonna dooo?

For my new  year’s resolution, I’m swearing off ascots. I like em, like em a lot and I look good in em, too, but an ascot changes me, changes my behavior. I get a little too full of myself, start trying to live above my station, like I’m a college professor or a lawyer or something. Same thing happens when I wear a turban. Lord, I wear an ascot and a turban together, forget about it, I’m drinking cognac, smoking Turkish cigarettes through a foot-long ivory cigarette holder, spider monkey on my shoulder. It’s fun but it’s not me. So, even though there’s a part of me that hates doing it, I think the best thing for me to do is stay away from ascots and turbans. But as God is my witness, you can have my tinfoil hat when you pry it off my cold dead head.

… cold dead head. Say that three times real fast. Now say it again. Now one more time. Good. Now go in the kitchen and get me a Coke.

Remember those x-ray glasses you used to could order from the back of a comic book that could see through clothes? Remember how they never worked? Well, they finally perfected em ~ the new airport scanners. Stand behind one, you might as well be butt naked. Things can see your junk through 20 pounds of overcoats, I kid you not. That’s the way the x-ray glasses were supposed to work. The airport scanners are there to help identify terrorists. But I’ll tell you, you get a cute woman up there where you can see through her clothes and it’s just guys working the scanner, al-Qaeda could ride a freakin camel onboard the plane, nobody’s gonna notice.

You know, I see a day when everybody will just strip down naked when they enter an airport. Board your flight, take off, land, disembark, collect your clothes at baggage pick-up, get dressed and you’re on your way. Don’t know what that has to do with terrorism, but it would be a heck of a thing.

And I Quote: “Let me buy a (security) pass … so that they can scan me and search me and measure my penis, then let me get on the plane.” ~ Democrat pundit James Carville

Yeah, James, cause evidently those scanners come equipped with microscopes. But have you ever seen James Carville? That’s kinda what that looks like coming out of his collar. Talk about a dickhead.

I been arguing with this guy about who the United States belongs to. Egghead college professor. He’s trying to tell me that it was Russian and Asiatic Slavs migrating across the Bering Strait from the north that originally populated North America and how the Mexicans took southern California and Texas away from the American Indians by force and all that. And I’m trying to tell him, dude, it doesn’t matter cause now it belongs to us, free and clear, bought and paid for with our sweat and blood and a bagful of colored glass beads. It’s ours now.

At least for a while.

And did you know, Herr Hofdingle (and I’d be amazed if you did), that on the Lewis and Clark expedition, of all the animals they ate (elk, bear, deer, salmon, dog, buffalo) that Louis’ favorite meat was dog? Clark, on the other hand, was partial to Jack-In-The-Box double cheeseburgers. Which, now that I think about it, the only difference between the two is the cheese. (Yes? No? Am I trying too hard?)

But you know, I read where a turtle can breathe through its butt. I find that  strange and unnecessary, even for a turtle.

Something’s been on my mind for awhile. Elvis had a twin brother that didn’t live. His twin brother’s name was Jesse Garon Presley. Jesse was delivered stillborn minutes before Elvis was born. But see, here’s what’s been troubling me … how do we know that wasn’t Elvis that died and Jesse was the one who lived? What if Jesse took Elvis’ name because it sounded so much cooler than Jesse Presley and he knew nobody named Jesse Presley could ever be the king of rock n roll. All those Elvis impersonators could really be Jesse impersonators and them not even know it. I wonder a lot about that.