Monday, April 28, 2008


Top Ten Rap Operas

10. Pimpmalion

9. Get Rich or Die Tristan und Isolde

8. Mah Ho Go Knee

7. Red Manon

6. The Fairy-Queen Latifah

5. Le Villi Manilli

4. Snoop Doggerdämmerung

3. Bone Thugs-N-Gianni Schicchi

2. Wagner's Ho n' Grin

And the number one rap opera...

1. Grandmaster Flash and Die Furious Fledermaus

-Jason Rohrblogger

And the alternates...

Aida Bambaata
La Bohèminem
Porgy D and the Bess
The Mystikal Affair
Stiffeli-Ol' Dirty Bastard
The Mary Jane Widow
Doktor Dre
Mos Defaustus
Carmen Elektra
Destiny Child
50 Cent and Threepenny Hip Hopera
L'il Kimadama Butterfly
Beasty Babes in Toyland
Die Ghostface Walküre
The Barber of Shakur
Run DMCandide
Falstaff'll Make You Jump Jump
The Marriage of Figaro and the Funky Bunch

Friday, April 25, 2008


Survey Says...

Fill these out and post your answers in my comments anonymously. I want to really get to know you, without, er, well, knowing who you are.

I stole this outright from Yummy Sushi Pajamas. It was fun to fill out. I'll try to guess who you are by your answers...

If you are interested, my answers are posted here.

1. Are you currently in a serious relationship?
2. What was your dream growing up?
3. What talent do you wish you had?
4. If I were to buy you a drink, what would it be?
5. Favorite vegetable?
6. What was the last book you read?
7. Which zodiac sign are you?
8. Any tattoos and/or piercings? Explain where.
9. What would you say is your worst habit?
10. If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride?
11. What is your favorite sport?
12. Do you have a mostly negative or optimistic attitude?
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
14. What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?
15. Tell me one weird fact about you.
16. Do you have any pets?
17. What would you do if I showed up at your house unexpectedly?
18. What was your first impression of me?
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
22. What color are your eyes?
23. Have you ever been arrested?
24. Bottle or can pop?
25. If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it?
26. What's your favorite place to hang at?
27. Do you believe in ghosts?
28. What's your favorite thing to do in your spare time?
29. Do you swear a lot?
30. What's your biggest pet peeve?
31. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
32. Do you believe/appreciate romance?
33. Do you believe in God?
34. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?

1. Are you currently in a serious relationship? I'm currently in a hilarious relationship.
2. What was your dream growing up? To dream the impossible dream.
3. What talent do you wish you had? Turn water into wine.
4. If I were to buy you a drink, what would it be? Jack and Diet Coke
5. Favorite vegetable? Stephen Hawking
6. What was the last book you read? A Million Little Feces
7. Which zodiac sign are you? Pisces! Woot! Water sign rulz, yo!
8. Any tattoos and/or piercings? Explain where. I have a pierced tattoo.
9. What would you say is your worst habit? Smoking in the nursery.
10. If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride? Totally! Real creepy like.
11. What is your favorite sport? Olympic Tonsil Hockey
12. Do you have a mostly negative or optimistic attitude? I'm optimistically negative. Mostly.
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me? Offer to press your button.
14. What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you? This one time? At the drive-thru? They totally gave me fries when I clearly ordered onion rings. There's a special level in Hell for that.
15. Tell me one weird fact about you. I have the preamble to the Constitution shaved into my chest hair.
16. Do you have any pets? A hairless goat.
17. What would you do if I showed up at your house unexpectedly? Hide the bodies.
18. What was your first impression of me? This woman will be the second female president.
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary? Scute
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? Earlobe implants
21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience? Crime.
22. What color are your eyes? Red
23. Have you ever been arrested? Nope. Never convicted, either.
24. Bottle or can pop? I like to hold my head directly under the fountain at 7-11
25. If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it? 1,000 dimebags, baby!
26. What’s your favorite place to hang at? Hammock store
27. Do you believe in ghosts? I believe that Patrick Swayze loves Demi Moore so much that not even DEATH will keep him from coming back and making pottery with her.
28. What's your favorite thing to do in your spare time? Change my spare tire and count my spare change.
29. Do you swear a lot? Hell no!
30. What's your biggest pet peeve? A 150lb Shetland Peeve. She was half-wild half-pet.
31. In one word, how would you describe yourself? Drunk
32. Do you believe/appreciate romance? Maybe. Why do you want to know?
33. Do you believe in God? Is she watching right now? Then, yes. Totally.
34. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you. You meme my back, I'll meme yours.

-Jason Rohrblogger

Tuesday, April 22, 2008


My dear friend Sherri outside of Phoenix, AZ has joined "The Souls" writing group on Yahoo. She forwarded me this exercise: pick up and write a chapter from this beginning...


It wasn't a dark and stormy night, just another boring 72-degree day in Los Angeles. I turned on the morning news. I'm not sure if it is actually live or just a tape that is re-spliced and played again each day. Channel surfing produced the usual: A car chase, Click. A freeway shooting, Click. Weather, same again tomorrow, Click. A nauseating lawyer (I know, redundant) explaining why his client, who had stabbed three people, was entitled to five million in damages from the knife manufacturer because he had cut his finger on the weapon's defective handle. (Say, did you hear about the terrorists who stormed the courthouse and had fifty lawyers captive on a bus, demanding ten million dollars or they would release them?) Click. All freeways moving normally.

After finishing my breakfast of egg and grain free toaster pancakes followed by a steaming cup of distilled water, I set the alarms, let out the Rottweilers and headed for the garage. For once I was ahead of schedule. It was 7 A.M. I should get to work, which is ten miles away, by 8:30. Turning the key of my leased 600 horsepower red German convertible with gold wheels, I donned a pair of 500 dollar designer sunglasses. And thought: only three more payments and they're mine.

Pulling into the parking lot at 8:25 I knew it would be a great day. "Good morning Brittanni." She is our fourth receptionist in six months. Brittanni looked stunning in her six inch heels and designer mini-dress. That woman has more plastic in her than the Tupperware factory uses in a week, but when you're trolling for a rich husband, bait is important. Our company imports products from China. My job is to rewrite the instruction sheets into something resembling English. However, when at a club or bar, I of course tell the women I meet that I am an International Financier or a Secret Agent. There is a list of clubs and bars I frequent in my wallet with the appropriate occupations and corresponding business cards. A lot of women ask why I am not married and I tell them the truth. The dating scene is so full of phony women claiming to be models and actresses that I haven't yet found that real and honest woman.

I settled into my cubicle and reached for my In Box when the phone rang. "There is a person in the lobby to see you." Brittanni sounded stressed. "I'll be right out." While making my way to reception, the plant manager cornered me and began reading a laundry list of products that couldn't ship because I was behind on the instruction sheets. When I finally got to reception I found myself staring at a person in combat boots, wearing some sort of uniform, leaning over Brittanni's desk. Looking very relieved, Brittanni slid her chair away from the desk and stammered "Oh, here is the gentleman you wish to see. This is Roger Smythe."

"How can I help you?"

"My name is Sergeant Roberta Browning with the U.S. Customs Service." She handed me a business card and pumped my hand while simultaneously crushing it. Although she was speaking to me, she seemed to have a hard time keeping her eyes off of Brittanni.

"You can call me Bob."

She looked like she could bench press 400 pounds. I was envious of her physique. I remember a recent date telling me I was in need of some physical activity. I told her about spending a couple of months working out with my good buddy Arnold, but that the only thing I had developed was an Austrian accent!

Bob informed me that I would have to accompany her to the harbor to inspect one of our incoming shipments and answer a few questions. We should be back by lunch time. Bob looked at Brittanni and asked "Do you know any nice, quiet restaurants around here?" Brittanni stuttered "I uh, um, always bring my lunch. I'm on a very special diet, besides there must be some wonderful places at the harbor and Roger just loves seafood. Don't you Roger?"

We went to the parking lot. Bob motioned me to a white Crown Victoria with a light bar on the roof and a cage separating the front and back seats.

"You can ride up front with me unless you prefer the back and looking like a felon."

"NO! The front is fine."

Naturally there was a three car crash completely blocking the Harbor Freeway. Bob said, "No sweat, I know a way around this on surface roads." We drove through areas that gang bangers would be afraid to traverse. "They should tear down this area and put up a slum." Inane comments are my version of whistling in the dark when I'm nervous.

Arriving at the docks, there were cars with flashing lights and lots of agitated people in uniforms milling about. A dark suited guy right out of "Men in Black" opened the driver side door. "Bob, you're not going to believe what's going on inside."


I stepped out of the Crown Vic and immediately sucked salted air with a delightful petroleum finish. Decomposing on the dock was a standard overseas shipping container labeled with nothing more than "Far East Freight" and Mandarin rust.

Dark Suit stammered..."It's, um, well, it APPEARS to be everything we have been looking for."

"Thanks Mr. Suit," I thought, "could you be more vague?"

In the last three months I had seen some unofficial horrors roll out of these foregone crates: families escaping some atrocity or other, and the corpses of those who didn't. I once held a bill-of-lading marked "bibles" only to find my receptacle mis-filled with illegal AK-47's bound for inner-city war zones. It wasn't the first time the word of God had been replaced with hot lead and gun oil.

I angled my Bruno Maglis around to the business end of the crusty metal box. Would my fine shipment normally served be replaced with Folger's Crystals? Let's see if anyone notices.

An alphabet soup of agents phalanxed the landing: ATF, NSA, FBI, IRS. IRS? It was a relief to know that taxes would be properly collected on "everything we have been looking for." Together they held more firepower than an Amway meeting gone wrong between the Crips and Bloods.

My eyes trailed Bob as she (he? it?) unholstered her biceps and laid a vise-like mitt on the latch locking-lever and gave it a gentle stroke.

I instantly swallowed as I fully realized that Dark Suit was, indeed, correct...

A beam of blazing light dribbled out of the container. Once my seared corneas WAS all there.

EVERYTHING we have been looking for was in that corroded can: a ship's manifest of destiny.

The stench of a thousand goats tugged the eggs and pancakes from my stomach as the container belched out...Osama bin Laden.

The six-foot two-inch cave dwelling Arab was attached to a doleful dialysis machine pumping life-giving insulin through his kaffiyeh.

Two NSA agents went cuckoo for bin Laden's Cocoa Puffs, and one FBI officer ejaculated as they received their new federal guest.

But the decrepit crate held more...much more.

Everything we had been looking for:

DVD after DVD of funny Chevy Chase movies, Ann Ria's first three best-sellers, a competent President of the United States, gallons of clear, refreshing anti-hangover vodka, at least one funny, original Top Ten List from Jason Rohrblogger, and several cases of calorie-free double bacon cheeseburgers.

Euro signs formed a conga line around my designer-shaded eyeballs as I beheld a well-tanned 95-year-old Jimmy Hoffa disembark carrying a live breeding pair of dodo birds, a personal handwritten letter from Amelia Earhart, and sipping Chablis from The Holy Grail.

I about fudge-striped my Calvin Kleins (smooth move, Smythe) when Dark Suit and Bob emerged from the back of the trailer holding...

[You can take it from here...]

-Jason Rohrblogger


a jewel-encrusted walker that could only belong to one man, as well as the man to whom it belonged. Everyone froze--except for one male and one female agent who fainted--as we looked upon the one and only King of Rock and Roll. Alive, but barely. "Thank you, thankyouverymuch," he said as two young agents took over and helped him out of the container. He was eating one of the cheeseburgers.

"Holy Shit." I mouthed the words, but two others said them at the same instant. Seagulls announced themselves overhead as if this were some kind of party and they were pissed that they weren't invited.

There was no mistaking it. This was The Man, The God of Rock. Holy Shit, indeed. Years of rumors and National Enquirer headlines with their crappy faked photos using chronological progression programs like the kind used on Have You Seen Me? milk cartons and mail inserts. And the jokes, always the Elvis jokes. But something told me that this was no joke.

Bob came over. "You care to tell me what this is all about?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Don't get smart with me, Smythe! Homeland asked us to check this out, but this is beyond what anyone anticipated. We need some answers from you. Now."

"Hey, I can't believe it either. Look at me: my hands are shaking. I mean, is that Elvis Fucking Presley? And Bin Laden?" I stuttered when I said it. I didn't know whether to get a closer look or get a safe distance away. I took a step to the side.

Crunch. I hadn't noticed my shades fell. Five hundred dollars down the drain, but that was the last thing on my mind right now.

Bob shook his/her head: "We gotta get Homeland down here. This is too much." My throat was suddenly drier than the dirt on the bottom of Osama Bin Laden's boots.

Bob nodded to Dark Suit. "Get someone on the phone." I sat down.

Agents continued to wander around, taking notes and photographs, all of them on their cell phones. This place was turning into Grand Central Station as more and more unmarked black sedans pulled up and unloaded various suits of various ranks. Vans and moving trucks arrived as well to take fantastical booty to who knows where. An agent strutted past with a phone on each ear.

It started getting dark. We'd been here all day, and yet it seemed as though this was just the beginning. I realized I hadn't taken a leak in twelve hours.

Another black Crown Vic pulled up, and a couple of important-looking suits got out. They walked over to Bob and Dark Suit and said a few things, then the whole posse came over to me.

"Mister Smythe, this is...."

Saturday, April 19, 2008


Top Ten Pope Peeves

10. Sacraments that don't presuppose faith

9. Folks who point at the Popemobile and ask "Where's Robin?"

8. Miters that chafe

7. Deviled eggs

6. Bland Inquisitors

5. Kids who quote the doctrine of the Trinity from The Matrix

4. Pagan-loving divorced Islamic homosexual abortionists

3. Spicy Eucharist

2. Beatles who think they are bigger than Jesus

And the number one Pope peeve...

1. American Idolatry

-Jason Rohrblogger

Wednesday, April 16, 2008


Top Ten Projects in Development at the Vatican

10. Time-release communion wafer

9. Holy Waterpark

8. 1-800 link to Heaven, 1-900 line to Hell

7. Emasculated OS Eunux

6. Swiss Miss Guard

5. Martyred-saints line of playing cards

4. Vestment sponsorship deal with Nike

3. Garden State of Grace

2. "Papa Don't Preach" Pontiffical Rap Album by Hizz Ho'ness B-Dict Sixtaine

And the number one project in development at the Vatican...

1. Jesus Juice

-Jason Rohrblogger

Sunday, April 13, 2008


Jason Rohrblogger's Guide to Proper Etiquette at Public Soda Fountains

Let me begin with full disclosure: my name is Jason and I am a Diet Coke addict.

I need Diet Coke the way Romeo needs Juliet, the way Amy Winehouse needs heroin, the way Russians need Vodka. Lives hang in the balance.

It's not just the caffeine; it's the sweet chemical-taste of artificial sweeteners and industrial carcinogens attacking my perforated kidneys. The sound of CO2 escaping is Mozart to my thirsty ears.

But I live in a crowded city bursting like a full bladder with fellow needy caf-fiends.

My point: when you approach a public soda fountain, even if you are alone at the time, please fill up your receptacle with ice, top off with the tasty beverage of your choice, and...


Do not linger as if you are the only person in the universe this particular battery of liquid cannons was installed to slake. Chances are while you were mixing myriad flavors, tasting every 109 combinations possible, I have come up behind you and I am patiently waiting to get a nozzle of precious life-giving diet nectar.

I do not have time for you to slurp eleven sips and top off. I do not have time for you to block the spigots while you select three wrong-size lids and drop two straws.

Don't fill fluid first, and decide later you want to add ice - resulting in an Exxon Valdez-style toxic Dew spill on the Mountain. The order is thus: ice, shoot, and scoot.

All of the peripheral activities: waiting for the foam to settle, sampling your secret combination of Gatorade and Dr. Pepper, lidding and strawing your creation, and cleaning up the gallon of dumped syrup on your hand can be accomplished AWAY from the business end of the machine.

Situational awareness: if your selected drink is at one end of the row, please move the bulk of your personage toward that end of the apparatus as you pour, so that if someone in the inconsidered line behind you can use a nearby teat at the same time, they are not prevented from receiving relief.

Once full, please step back and look around you. If a line has formed, grab your lid and straw and move along before applying them to your container. You can always come back later for your twenty free refills. I know I will.

Are you filling 24 small Pepsis for the troop of Girl Scouts you just brought to Hardee's? Use the carrier to hold the empty cups: ice, shoot, get your lids and straws and SCOOT! My foregone veins cannot wait for you to seal all two-dozen of your thimbles of juice. I have a 44-ounce hole in my Big Gulp-shaped gullet that I will fill with your blood if I don't get some Diet Coke first.

Hopefully this modest proposal will result in less fatalities at already dangerous places like the Circle K.

Because if I don't get some Diet Coke soon, you are going to need more than a cleanup on aisle three. You're going to need a good supply of body bags. I will drink your milkshake and there will be blood.

I'm just saying is all.

-Rohrblogger out.

Thursday, April 10, 2008


Top Ten Tool Definitions

Originally employed as a weapon of war, the hammer nowadays is used as a kind of divining rod to locate the most expensive parts adjacent to the object you are trying to hit.

Used to open and slice through the contents of cardboard cartons delivered to your front door; works particularly well on contents such as seats, vinyl records, liquids in plastic bottles, collector magazines, refund checks, and rubber or plastic parts. Especially useful for slicing work clothes, but only while in use. It is also useful for removing large chunks of human flesh from the user's hands.

Normally used for spinning steel pop rivets in their holes until you die of old age, but it also works great for boring rollbar mounting holes in the floor of a sports car just above the brake line that goes to the rear axle.

One of a family of cutting tools built on the Ouija Board Principle: it transforms human energy into a crooked, unpredictable motion, and the more you attempt to influence its course, the more dismal your future becomes.

Used to round-off bolt heads. If nothing else is available, they can also be used to transfer intense welding heat to the palm of your hand.

Used almost entirely for lighting various flammable objects in your shop on fire. Also handy for igniting the grease inside the wheel hub you want the bearing race out of.

Heavy duty leather gloves used to prolong the conduction of intense welding heat to the palm of your hand.

A tall upright machine useful for suddenly snatching flat metal bar stock out of your hands so that it smacks you in the chest and flings your beer across the room, splattering it against the Rolling Stones poster over the bench grinder.

Cleans rust off old bolts and then throws them somewhere under the workbench with the speed of light. Also removes fingerprint whorls and hard-earned guitar callouses.

And the number one tool definition...

Any handy tool that you grab and throw across the garage while yelling "DAMMIT!" at the top of your lungs. It is most often the next tool that you will need after a really big hammer.

-Jason Rohrblogger

And the alternates...

Once used for working on older British cars and motorcycles, they are now used mainly for impersonating that 9/16 or 1/2 inch socket you've been searching for the last forty-five minutes.

Used for lowering a Mustang to the ground after you have installed a set of Ford Motorsports lowered road springs, trapping the jack handle firmly under the front air dam.

Used for levering a car upward off of a hydraulic floor jack.

A tool for removing wood splinters.

Tool for calling your neighbor to see if he has another hydraulic floor jack.

Theoretically useful as a sandwich tool for spreading mayonnaise; used mainly for getting dog-doo off your boot.

A tool that snaps off in bolt holes and is ten times harder than any known drill bit.

A stroboscopic instrument for illuminating grease buildup on crankshaft pulleys.

A handy tool for testing the tensile strength of ground straps and hydraulic clutch lines you may have forgotten to disconnect.

A large motor mount prying tool that inexplicably has an accurately machined screwdriver tip on the end without the handle.

A handy tool for transferring sulfuric acid from car battery to the inside of your toolbox after determining that your battery is dead as a doornail, just as you thought.

The mechanic's own tanning booth. Sometimes called a drop light, it is a good source of vitamin D, "the sunshine vitamin", which is not otherwise found under cars at night. Health benefits aside, its main purpose is to consume 40-watt light bulbs at about the same rate that 105-mm howitzer shells might be used during, say, the first few hours of the Battle of the Bulge. More often dark than light, its name is somewhat misleading.

Normally used to stab the lids of old-style paper-and-tin oil cans and splash oil on your shirt; can also be used, as the name implies, to strip out Phillips screw heads.

A tool for opening paint cans. Sometimes used to convert common slotted screws into non-removable screws.

A machine that takes energy produced in a coal-burning power plant 200 miles away and transforms it into compressed air that travels by hose to a Chicago Pneumatic impact wrench that grips rusty suspension bolts last tightened forty years ago by someone in Abingdon, Oxfordshire, and rounds them off. Also used to quickly snap off lug nuts.

A large stationary power tool commonly used to launch wood projectiles for testing wall integrity.

A tool used to crumple the metal surrounding that clip or bracket you needed to remove in order to replace a fifty cent part.

A tool used to make hoses too short.

A portable cutting tool used to make studs too short.

Used to round off bolt heads. Sometimes used in the creation of blood-blisters.

An electric sanding tool commonly used to convert minor touch-up jobs into major refinishing jobs. Caution: Avoid using for manicures.

Monday, April 07, 2008


Note: My sister tells me that there are two kinds of Pooh: "Classic" Pooh and "Disney" Pooh. Apparently "Classic Pooh" is the preference. Who knew new Pooh blew? Here are my...

Top Ten Rejected Winnie the Pooh Themes

10. Military Juggernaut Pooh

9. Pooh-saurus Rex

7. G.I. Winnie with Kung Pooh Grip

6. Stinky the Loo

5. Afternoons at 96.9 Pooh FM

4. Baby Seal Hunter Pooh

3. Pooh-dle

2. Mountain Pooh

And the number one rejected Winnie the Pooh theme...

1. Pooh Tang

-Jason Rohrblogger

And the alternates...

Koo Koo Ka Pooh, Mrs. Robinson
Winnie the Stew
You'll always be my Jenny the Pooh (Forrest Gump only)
Baby the Goo
Koo Koo the Roo
Cock-a-doodle Pooh

Friday, April 04, 2008


Top Ten Signs Your Company Is Cutting Healthcare Benefits

10. Coffee machine also used for dialysis

9. Rehab is a "Just Say No" bumpersticker

8. All second opinions rendered by Dr. Pepper

7. After vasectomy, anesthesiologist orders you to "walk it off"

6. Door to first-aid cabinet requires a quarter to open it

5. Network physician states you've already got lung cancer, so you might as well smoke all you want, drink-up, and engage in unprotected sex as well

4. If you can swallow fifty eggs, the cholesterol screening is free

3. "Flu shots" taste suspiciously like lime Jell-O, and are two-for-one on Thursdays with wine, well, and drafts

2. Fine Prozac normally served secretly replaced with Folger's Crystals

And the number one sign your company is cutting healthcare benefits...

1. Your choice of any doctor named Kevorkian

-Jason Rohrblogger

And the alternates...

For $1.99 a minute your RN will also be a "naughty nurse"
Ultrasound shows fetus pimping Nikes, sucking Pepsi, and blasting an i-Pod
Dentist uses Magic 8-Ball to decide where to drill
Mammogram just five minutes of groping from the horny guys in shipping

Tuesday, April 01, 2008


Top Ten Rejected Opening Lines from Jason's Novel

10. "Princess Leia signaled her desire by reclining near the Orgasmatron; 'Help me, Jason Rohrblogger,' she murmured, 'you're my only hope.'"

9. "It was the best of blogs, it was the worst of blogs."

8. "Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet, like Viagra taking hold of an ancient wilted magnolia, but that was sure to change before prom was over in six hours."

7. "It was a time for heroes: when boys became men and men became women."

6. "Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin', but we were stayin' alive, stayin' alive."

5. "Call me Oatmeal."

4. "The canopy was thick like Mama Cass. The swamp mud-sucked my boots, while mosquitoes blood-sucked the trigger finger on my M-16A1. Charley was breathing down my neck. It felt like the hot-breath of death after death had been eating anchovies. A nameless gut instinct to survive turned me around. 'Quit breathing on me, Charley,' I demanded, 'and have a mint.'"

3. "I like big butts, and I cannot lie."

2. "From all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death!"

And the number one rejected opening line from Jason's novel...

1. "Show Daddy on the blog where Jason touched you."

-Jason Rohrblogger

And the alternate...

"I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet blog posts that last three days."