"Cardozaisms"

Now the lighter side:

If I were to be memorialized in one of those "...isms" books, I think that it would go a little something like this...

(You probably have to be a Nevadan to get most of these...this does NOT include people from The City What Shall Not Be Named, as they have demonstrated time and time again that they really don't care to be part of our great state, and I really don't want them here.)

Some people call it a "false spring;" around here we call it "February."

(in a similar vein...)

So-And-So made reference to our freak snowstorm...Renoites call it "Memorial Day."

Yes, I ride my bike to work and wear an old U.S. Army haversack; this does not mean that I am a #$% %&*@ hippie, it means I'm a cheap son-of-a...

There is a Satan, and unions do his bidding.

I feel so...Warren Harding.

Here's one: not a verbal expression, just a big, waggling middle finger at some sludge donkey not using a turn signal; this would be the cover page, and is the quintessential "me."

Sludge donkey!!!

G. W. does not equal Stalin; nor does he equal Hitler. When I see brown shirts on the streets rounding up brown people, running them into boxcars at the tracks, tens of thousands of people "disappearing" or coming down with a bad case of North Dakota, and one of them comes to get you for making that very comment, then maybe, MAYBE I'll agree.

It's PINE NUT SEASON!!! Let's dance 'round the September Pole!

Thanks, Harry Reid, for granting me the opportunity to watch a grown man sweep the interstate with a PUSH BROOM in the middle of the flippin' desert. Glad to know that pork barrel is going somewhere useful.

Punt on third down...they'll never see it coming! (This was a Chris Tormey brainchild, apparently.)

Okay, I'm tired and this is not going nearly as well as I thought it would. Some impartial observer should just trail me with a notebook, because I KNOW I'm good for some kookey crap (not including my Portuguese rants).