Friday, September 30, 2005

Cyborg Army: Blogger Unit

Kinetic Artificial Repair and Yelling Neohuman Journeying Unit Normally for Observation
Journeying Electronic Neohuman Normally for Infiltration, Fighting and Efficient Repair Digital Upgraded Knight Engineered for Online Fighting, Efficient Assassination and Rational Learning

Operational Lifeform Designed for Hazardous Observation and Scientific Sabotage Intelligent Networked Assassination and Nocturnal Nullification Android
Handcrafted Artificial Lifeform Engineered for Mathematics, Ceaseless Killing and Accurate Yelling Transforming Artificial Neohuman Limited to Ultimate Calculation, Yearly Peacekeeping and Efficient Zoology
Mechanical Intelligent Knight Engineered for Accurate Sabotage, Hazardous Learning and Efficient Yelling Artificial Robotic Android Limited to Peacekeeping and Efficient Zoology
Synthetic Cybernetic Humanoid Normally for Online Observation, Destruction and Logical ExplorationKinetic Electronic Nocturnal Judo Unit
The Bloggers Online Operations Battalion (B.O.O.B.) is using the latest technologies to keep Internet surfers supplied with fresh and original material. It is a division of Federated Union of Cyber Kinetics, which supplies artificial intellegence to web users world wide.

(The above cyborgs were created at ) There are six diferent cyborg avatars to choose from with a limit of 10 letters for the name.


To Choke A Planet

"People often ask me how they can leave the planet, so I have prepared some brief notes.

How To Leave The Planet

1. Phone NASA. Their phone number is (713) 483-3111. Explain that it's very important that you get away as soon as possible.

2. If they do not cooperate, phone any friend you may have in the White House - (202) 4561414 - to have a word on your behalf with the guys at NASA.

3. If you don't have any friends in the White House, phone the Kremlin (ask the overseas operator for 0107-095-295-9051). They don't have any friends there either (at least, none to speak of), but they do seem to have a little influence, so you may as well try.

4. If that also fails, phone the Pope for guidance. His telephone number is 011-39-6-6982, and I gather his switchboard is infallible.

5. If all these attempts fail, flag down a passing flying saucer and explain that it's vitally important you get away before your phone bill arrives.

--Douglas Adams"

The above is an excerpt from the Introduction to The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. I am using this passage and the poster from the recent screen adaptation of the novel, because they won't stop the world and let me off. My pleas for Scotty to beam me up have gone unanswered. This planet is in a constant state of war, terrorism, and starvation among other ills. Unlike Arthur Dent who unwittingly escaped the destruction of earth for the construction of an interstellar bypass, I would like to escape what appears to be imminent destruction by our own inhabitant's.

Since this is obviously impossible, I have decided instead to express my disgust and displeasure of the world's state of affairs by reworking a song. The original lyrics, which appeared in a Coca Cola commercial, sent a cute and wonderful message: "I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony..." But I am afraid that the song's message has fallen on deaf ears. I won't point fingers to blame any one entity or its peoples, but rather I'll attack the world itself.

I'd like to grab the world by its neck, And choke till it turns blue

Then I would squeeze and despite its pleas I'd throw a punch or two.

I'd like to kick the world's fat ass and show it no mercy

Then I would scold it and make it know how to feel misery.

I'd like to see the world at last to feel the slap of my hands

And to see it on its knees wanting peace in all the lands .

(That's the song I sing)

I'd like to build the world a grave and bury it to its neck

Then maybe it would awaken and say what the heck.

(And peace would ring)

Then I'd be glad to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony

I'd build the world a home and furnish it with love

Grow apple trees and honey bees and snow-white turtle doves.

(That's the song I sing)

..Apple trees and honey bees and snow-white turtle doves.

I'd like to think that someday all wars and famine will be no more. It would be nice if it were to happen in my life time. The lyrics of John Lennon's Imagine comes to mind.

Peace, to all my brothers and sisters.


Thursday, September 29, 2005

Posterior Motives

A controversy is being revisited over at Hoss' Place! Does the toilet paper get configured so that is pulled over the top or from the bottom? Yes, dear reader, we do go high-brow at Blogspot.
We do wade into those waters where scholars fear to tread.

Before delving into such an ostentatious debate, let us consider Tess Smith's "over the top" use of toilet tissue at the recent Emmy Awards. Don't you just hate it when people use too much toilet paper? Where is a sudden gust of wind when you need it? Do you suppose she is using single or two-ply? What would happen if it were to rain? How many trees had to die for her wardrobe? Desperate Housewives; even they gotta go when they gotta go!

Perhaps a controversy in and of itself, I personally don't like the term toilet paper or it being abbreviated as TP. My preference is AW, which is short for Ass Wipe. We are talking semantics here, so I won't pursue pet names. You say TP, and I say AW.

Way to go, Hoss! Your posting was wrought with controversy! This debate is an old one. It ranks right up there with the old "egg or the chicken" arguments. Well, The Pointmeister has decided to take on both of these issues head on. I will resolve both of them.

First, I'll tackle the easy one. The answer has been right under the noses of all of you. It's a matter of physiology. Why, it is elementary, my dear bloggers. Which came first? Why the chicken of course! The chicken is fully developed, and as such has a fully developed reproductive system. The egg is and embryo, growing and developing. The egg can not come. The chicken can and obviously did. I rest my case.

The matter of the ass wipe (toilet paper) actually has a quite simple solution when you apply The Pointmeister's logic to the problem. You've heard of gravity, have you not? That once mysterious force referred to as gravity was also the subject of debate at one time. The Pointmeister set the scientific world straight on that one too. I had to break the news that there is no such thing as gravity, the world sucks! In any event, the configuration of the roll is determined by the planet's suction, or gravity if you insist on using that term. If you happen to live north of the equator, the paper follows the gravitational attraction and therefore must be pulled from the top. On the other hand, if you are south of the equator you must pull the paper up from the bottom. Why do you think they call Australia "the Land down under?" Because they pull the paper from under the roll.

One visitor to chime in on Hoss' posting, poopie may have inadvertently stirred up some more controversy. It seems that she has her AW sitting on a window ledge. While this does avoid the "top or bottom" issue, it raises another. What is the proper way to pull paper from the roll when it sits in a vertical position, to the left or the right? It would be easy to accept the obvious course and base it upon whether the user is left-handed or right-handed. Using the infallible logic of The Pointmeister, this solution seems too obvious and too trite. For now, this will be relegated to the study files.

The problem of right or left on vertical AW will be added to the growing list of mysteries to be solved. It will join such topics as: "Why does a steam iron have a permanent-press setting?" - "Why does Hawaii have an Interstate Highway?" - "What was the next best thing before sliced bread?" - "What if either or both Adam and Eve had been gay?" As you can see, The Pointmeister is indefatigable in his efforts to make blogging enjoyable and educational for everyone.


Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Name That Tune 2

(This is my second attempt with this idea. The first was in February 2005, posting number 53.)
Below you will find what appears to a simple diary or personal log of a weekend celebration. But there is more to the story than what meets the eye. Contained and hidden, and complete in the following paragraphs are the titles of familiar hit songs. The last "Name That Tune" used mostly songs from the 60s, this one features songs from the 50s,60s, 70s, 80s and 90s in all fairness to age differences of the readers. They are complete and not separated by any punctuation or other words. How many can you find?

The weekend was here and now I decided to go downtown to celebrate. I waited at the the bus stop until a quarter to three, before hailing a taxi instead.
....Since it was early in the afternoon, I told the driver to roll on down the highway. I said he take a joyride over by Indian Lake and through the poor side of town. "Go your own way," I said. So he took the boulevard past Macarthur Park. The ride was uneventful, an afternoon delight for city driving on a Friday.
....While we were running free of traffic, I thought about the awful heatwave we were having. This summer in the city had some unusual heat, the hottest I could recall. Wouldn't it be nice if we were to have some summer rain? I'd be glad all over to go walking in the rain just about now. Time after time the weatherman said there was a chance for rain, but alas, there were no raindrops.
....Maybe I should take a sea cruise and sail away to somewhere beyond the sea. Hah! That'll be the day! If I could, I'd go now! It was something to think about. If you could read my mind, you'd see me on a secluded beach with a lovely girl. Yes, she's a beauty! She could be a Playboy centerfold. Just imagine!
....We were heading east on Broadway. It was daylight now, but later everything would be lit up like a neon rainbow. The cab let me off down on the corner from the Hotel California. Next door at a travel agency, I saw a poster that said I should be leaving on a jet plane to exotic places. Another line inviting me inside claimed I was one step from paradise. In dreams, I thought, only in my dreams.
....My favorite club, The Copacabana, was in the penthouse up on the roof of the hotel. It is a small crowded den of iniquity. When you open the door, smoke gets in your eyes and you are blinded by the light of an old disco strobe hanging from the ceiling.
....Day after day, I thank the Lord for the night time. My goal is to find some pretty woman drinking Jose Cuervo. We'll talk and dance and drink all night long. She'll ask me, "Where's the party?" I'll answer, "Any place you are." Hey, I'm a man! I'm in control! Deep inside of me, I'm a nice guy. But if lightning strikes, why not go for it? In the club scene, a stranger cannot allow himself to get paranoid. If she says, "Don't stand too close to me," then I'm not one to rock the boat.
....If she's interested, then we've only just begun to enjoy the evening. You've heard on your radio the song that says if you can't be be with the one you love, love the one you're with. You might say it's a heartache, but think about it, that's life. What's the worst that could happen? We might really like each other. We may never meet again. We ain't got nothing yet, so why not live for the moment? Let's live for today! We'll have fun until closing time. Will we then see dawn and the face the day together? Will she be an angel of the morning, or a bat out of hell?
There are other possibilities too. I could end up passed out under the boardwalk. I could end up home early in my room. This cab ride could just be a daydream!
(How many did you find? There are 76 complete song titles in the above paragraphs. The answers appear in "Name That Tune 2 - Answers", post No.356)


Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Name That Tune 2 - Answers

(Stop! Don't read any further if you have not first read 'Name That Tune 2." post no.357. The following are ansers to that song title quiz.)
. The answers are listed in the order of their appearance in the story.

  1. Weekend - (Phreek)
  2. Here And Now - (Luther Vandros)
  3. Downtown - (Petula Clark)
  4. Celebrate - (Three Dog Night)
  5. Bus Stop - (the Hollies)
  6. Quarter To Three - (Gary U.S. Bonds)
  7. Taxi - (Harry Chapin)
  8. Roll On Down The Highway - (Bachman Turner Overdrive)
  9. Joyride - (Roxette)
  10. Indian Lake - (the Cowsills)
  11. The Poor Side Of Town - (Johnny Rivers)
  12. Go Your Own Way - (Fleetwood Mack)
  13. Boulevard - (Jackson Browne)
  14. MacArthur Park - (Richard Harris)
  15. Afternoon Delight - (Starland Vocal Band)
  16. Running Free - (Iron Maiden)
  17. Heat Wave - (Martha & the Vandellas)
  18. Summer In The City - (the Lovin' Spoonful)
  19. Unusual Heat - (Foreigner)
  20. Wouldn't It Be Nice? - (the Beachboys)
  21. Summer Rain - (Johnny Rivers)
  22. Glad All Over - (the Dave Clark Five)
  23. Walking In The Rain - (Jay and the Americans)
  24. Time After Time - (Cyndi Lauper)
  25. Raindrops - (Dee Clark)
  26. Sea Cruise - (Frankie Ford)
  27. Sail Away - (Randy Newman)
  28. Beyond The Sea - (Bobby Darrin)
  29. That'll Be The Day - (Buddy Holly)
  30. Go Now - (the Moody Blues)
  31. Something - (the Beatles)
  32. If You Could Read My MInd - (Gordon Lightfoot)
  33. She's A Beauty - (the Tubes)
  34. Centerfold - (the J. Geils Band)
  35. Imagine - (John Lennon)
  36. On Broadway - (the Drifters)
  37. Neon Rainbow - (the Box Tops)
  38. Down On The Corner - (Credence Clearwater Revival)
  39. Hotel California - (the Eagles)
  40. Leaving On A Jet Plane - (Peter, Paul & Mary)
  41. One Step From Paradise - (Danger Danger)
  42. In Dreams - (Roy Orbison)
  43. Copacabana - (Barry Manilow)
  44. Up On The Roof - (the Drifters)
  45. Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - (the Platters)
  46. Blinded By The Light - (Manfred Mann)
  47. Day After Day - (Bad Finger)
  48. Thank The Lord For The Night Time - (Neil Diamond)
  49. Pretty Woman - (Roy Orbison)
  50. Jose Cuervo - (Shelly West)
  51. All Night Long - (Lionel Richie)
  52. Where's The Party? - (Madonna)
  53. I'm A Man - (the Spencer Davis Group)
  54. Control - (Janet Jackson)
  55. Inside Of Me - (My Sister's Machine)
  56. Lightning Strikes - (Lou Christie)
  57. Stranger - (Jefferson Starship)
  58. Paranoid - (Black Sabbath)
  59. Don't Stand Too Close To Me - (Police)
  60. Rock The Boat - (the Hughs Corporation)
  61. We've Only Just Begun - (the Carpenters)
  62. On Your Radio - (Joe Jackson)
  63. Love The One You're With - (Will Young)
  64. It's A Heartache - (Bonnie Tyler)
  65. That's Life - (Frank Sinatra)
  66. The Worst That Could Happen - (Brooklyn Bridge)
  67. We Ain't Got Nothing Yet - (Blues Magoos)
  68. Let's Live For Today - (the Grass Roots)
  69. Closing Time - (SemiSonic)
  70. Dawn - (the Four Seasons)
  71. Face The Day - (Great White)
  72. Angel Of The Morning - (Marilee Rush)
  73. Bat Out Of Hell - (Meat Loaf)
  74. Under The Boardwalk - (the Drifters)
  75. In My Room - (the Beach Boys)
  76. Daydream - (the Lovin' Spoonful)


Modern Beatitudes

The Modern Beatitudes
Blessed are the poor in wallet, for theirs is a line of credit.
Blessed are the devious, for they shall decieve many.
Blessed are they who whine, for they shall eventually be given into.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for conformity, for they shall be filled.
Blessed are the low expectors, for they shall be proven correct.
Blessed are the litigators, for they shall see settlement.
Blessed are the latchkeys, for they shall be called children of Television.
Blessed are they that opine against the Madness, for theirs is the Internet.
(This was borrowed from Ockhamist )

Monday, September 26, 2005

I Can't Believe I Posted The Whole Thing!

I had this recurring dream ... once.

What will happen to Harry Potter when he grows up? (The picture is my prolepsis of one possibility.) *

Malignorance: Stupidity that spreads.

My Indian name is: Runs With Beer

Is George W. Bush the Maestro of Monotony or what?

If you planted a bush in the White House would they bother taking the dog for a walk? Did you know that george W. thought that WMD stood for "Where's My Darvon?"

This no placebo folks! I found this over at Timmy's Place . (He comes up with some pretty neat stuff.) Since no doctors will prescribe it, it will soon be available over the counter. Read a few blogs, take a couple and call me in the morning! To check out the product click here, and get a few laughs while you are there.

I visited the cemetery recently to read some of the epitaphs there. I found several interesting ones. (I have previewed this site before in my posting: "Trucking For Fun Things." ) This one had a poignant pointed message:

An error occurred while posting this blog, I actually bothered.

In case you didn't notice, there are no notices posted at this time. So take notice, already.

Age and treachery will triumph over youth and skill!

After all is said and done, more is said than done!

Like I said, I had this recurring dream...once! I dreamt I actually posted this crap!

*(This was taken from where you can find several of these posters. Click on fun stuff and then Movies That Didn't Happen. )


Sunday, September 25, 2005

It's A Small Blogger World

Today I managed to visit everyone on my blogroll. I don't usually get a chance to visit everyone every single day, but I do eventually catch up sometime during the week.

This week however, I found myself seriously back-logged. Was I lazy? Was I negligent? No, you might say I have been on tour. Like many of you, I have strayed following Hoss across the country.

While I have enjoyed enjoyed reading the blogs he has led us to, I have been remiss in reading my own links. Factoring in posts of my own, I had to use a lot of self-constraint to avoid reading the links on those sites I have visited via Hoss.

I'm not sure if I was disappointed or glad, but Hoss has taken a sabbatical from his excellent new job as Blog Guide today. Even the man upstairs took the seventh day off. I did not intend to make deific comparisons, Hoss.

The magazine cover displayed here has nothing to do with the title, but the focus is on the picture itself. The whirlwind tour I have been on feels like I've been circumnavigating the globe.

Tomorrow is Monday and when the Hoss-porter transports us around his blogroll, at least I can say, "I'm caught up, Hoss. Lead and we will follow. I'll pack a lunch and bring some clean underwear.


HillBilly Romance Novels

In her 9/24 post, Saurkraut has started a Torrid Romance story. She then invited us to pick up where she left off. It is the ultimate update to the parlor game "rumors." I like the idea and it sounds like fun. (Do I feel a sense of deja vu?) As of this posting, she had 17 of us who made contributions to her story. Mine will probably be rejected. As those of you who read me know, I tend to stay on the satirical side of things. After all she did not say she was writing a funny torrid romance story.
....The idea for this endeavor was the result of her thoughts on the subject of romance novels in general. She began her posy by stating that she despises these stories. Her main reason is that they all have the same plot. Her next reason, and a good one I might add, is that if you have a good romance, why would you want to read about?
....While I don't read those stories, my sisters years ago and now my daughter have been absorbed by them. I am a romantic at heart, but I don't need to read about love and passion. Besides, I find my wife to be a helluva lot more cuddly than a paperback book.
....I got to thinking, and I sometimes slip into that habit, that not once have I ever seen or heard of a Hillbilly Romance Novel. (Note to self: Call lawyer on Monday. Re: Possible discrimination suit against Harlequin for excluding Hillbillies from their publications.)

So it is that I have begun to assemble a synopsis for a Hillbilly Romance novel. My main character, the heroine if you will, is a beautiful bodacious girl named Beulah Butts. Rather than to try to describe her in words to you, I will use a picture of Daisy Mae Yokum from the L'il Abner comic strip. She is seen here sitting against an old black walnut tree near the Butts family's cabin over in Moosebreath Holler. It is her favorite spot where she can daydream of the day the handsome traveling salesman would come along and sweep her into the bushes. (Make that off her feet.)

Few salesmen ever made it up into the hills anywhere near Moosebreath Holler. But from time to time a few menfolk from neighboring hills and hollows would chance upon their neck of the woods. Poor Beulah would be enamored by these Hillbilly hunks, but Paw Butts usually sent them away at the point of his double-barrel shotgun. She held out hope that someday her dream man would appear unbeknownst to to Paw or any of her 14 brothers and sisters. She just knew there was a lot to learn if only she could get a chance to be alone with a man for just a little bit.

By and by, one such chance did happen. He was handsome and big and strong. Here, I provide a picture of L'il Abner, who will be playing the part of the man of her dreams. It isn't long before they are meeting and avoiding the scrutiny of her family. She is fascinated by his intelligence, why,
she'd never met a man who could count all the way to twenty. She had never thought of someone taking off their shoes to count, but then she didn't own any shoes. That fact that he owned shoes alone convinced her that he came from money. A man who was smart and rich was something she had never dared to imagine.

This particular day was a special one for her. It was their anniversary, marking the third day that they would see each other. It all happened in two months. She never dreamt that a man would want to be with her so much in such a short amount of time. Why, a fourth time would be almost like being hitched.

From a secret hiding place she fetched an old paper bag. She called it her buried treasure. She had vowed last Christmas when she got it, that she would never open it until there was a special man with whom she could share it. It was more precious than gold, that unopened box of chocolate-covered cherries.

Cuddled up close under her favorite tree, she opened the box of candy. The smell of the chocolate wafted like a wreath about their heads. She looked into his eyes and with abandon said to him, "Billy Jim Bob, pretty soon you know you are going to have to see the rest of the Butts." He smiled nervously, "Yeah, I know. But I sure ain't looking forward to kissin' any more Butts." Having said that, he picked up one of the chocolates and offered to feed it to her. As she was parting her luscious lips, he squeezed on he candy a little too hard. It was crushed between his thumb and finger even as the sticky syrup began to drip upon her bosom.

"Now I went and did it," he said. "I done broke your cherry." She giggled, it was something she'd heard about. It was what she had been waiting for her whole life. She decided to join in on the fun. Pretty soon between them they had broken all the cherries there was to break. She sighed, "I never knew it would be so juicy and sticky." But inside, she was feeling tinges of disappointment. It just wasn't what she'd thought it would be. She had been told that her life would change forever when her cherry was broken.

She looked up into his eyes. Suddenly she didn't care about her cherry anymore. But there was one thing she did know about when she was with a man. She remembered that the first time it had hurt pretty bad, but every time since it was just wonderful! Billy Jim Bob's eyes opened wide as Buelah hastily began to remove her clothes. Pretty soon she was naked and lying back in front of him. "Golly gee, your neck'ed!" he stammered.

"What are you awaitin' for?" she said to him. "Begging your pardon?" he replied. She loved it when the men played dumb. It excited her even more. She sat up, her breast grazing his nose and said, " Go to town. Now!"

She was sitting up, propped on her elbows as he rose. She loved watching them undress; all those muscles and ...the other. She was perplexed when he suddenly turned and began walking away down the hill side. "Gaul durn it," she heard him say, "I never have any fun. Everytime I start to have fun, someone is always sending me on errands."

Just before he disappeared over the next ridge she yelled, "Where are you going? Don't leave. Not just yet."

She heard his voice fading behind the crest of another hill, "I'm going to town, jus' like you said."

She lamented to herself that although she'd finally had her cherry broken, that didn't mean that she shouldn't get laid too. She wondered what she had done wrong to make him leave. She wondered too, when he'd be back.

The scene fades even as the camera pans backward as she silently gets dressed and walks forlornly back to that little cabin over in Moosebreath Holler.

....That is a possible introduction to the world's first Hillbilly Romance novel. Harlequin, eat your heart out! While it has some of the same elements of other Romance novels, it deals with a rural reality that they avoid. There is the familiar girl meets boy, boy and girl fall in love, girl loses boy, and one would think girl and boy get back together to live happily ever after. You know, this has Best Seller written all over it. To reserve your copy call 1-800-Pay-Alot.


Saturday, September 24, 2005

Gullible's Travels

I have settled down at long last on this autumn evening to catch up on some light reading. I have before me what I perceive to be a soon-to-be classic of American literature. The author, an erstwhile scion of the master of satire, Jonathan Swift, has himself set upon recording his own travels.

Jonathan (Ol' Hoss) Swifty takes us, the readers along on his Travels Into Several Not So Remote Blogs Of The World. One cannot help but see him as the giant Brobdingnagian and us as the Lilliputians. He sends us into a fascinating world which we are wont to know existed.

His blog roll is a virtual list of who's that? Only after we touch upon the soil of those sites with him, do we realize that they are actually us. It is we who live in his stories, and it is he who visits them. We are the strange, and yet, wonderful people that fuels the humor he exudes.

So won't you join me on his little boat for a three hour tour ... A three hour tour. If not for the courage of the skipper and his little buddies, the Minnow would be lost... The Minnow would be lost. Above us on the mast, the lookout keeps alert eyes on the horizon.

His circuitous route takes us to wondrous and exotic places. At one port of call, we learn of a woman's doctor who is a woman who was a man. No, Hoss, we had no evil thoughts. In Missouri, we see a home-school mom, before we are whisked eastward to Virginia. There we meet a mom with a trickster of a son. In Tennessee we are confronted with a therapist who lives on a farm.

We then take a 260 degree turn North onto Wisconsin. While enroute to the Dairy State, our captain partakes of some double chocolate stout. It has become apparent he is looking for a Dairy Queen along the way. From Wisconsin we lay anchor in Michigan, where we learn that MSU is a Cow College, although that fact is adamantly disputed by students and former students alike. Perhaps because of the prevailing winds, or because of the affects of the chocolate stout, we are under sail for Tennessee again. It turns out to be fruitful when we learn of a lady who can write one sentence and yet recive 20 comments.

Our captain decides to visit some "strange people," one of whom actually completed a two-page book. In Arizona we are honored to meet the best selling author of "What's Shakin' in the Men's Room." He leaves us to wonder just what it might be. While in port we are sustained with heaping portions of kielbasa and saurkraut, egg-potato casserole and oat meal cookies. In spite of the rough seas wand tempests we have sailed through, at least the cuisine is keeping us alive.

Our education in foreign languages is enhanced greatly when we are taught that "scheiss" is German for bullshit. The skipper once again amazes us when he introduces to a mother of two, who while planning for a third, can write about poop or Picasso with equal ease. He tells us that he cannot leave after visiting her without asking himself, "How does she do that?"

Well, Captain Swifty, (or is it Hoss?) you manage to entertain us with equal ease. You can write about Picasso and we instantly think about poop! How do you do it?

Folks, I hope you enjoyed this introduction to Travels Into Several Not So Remote Blogs Of The World. But you don't need me to preview this classic-in-the-making. Drop by at Old Hoss' Stable and see for yourself. You might find yourself a dead duck if you fail to heed this advice.


Friday, September 23, 2005

Ristorante Cinema

(Welome to the Ristorante Cinema, where the menu is a trivia quiz of movie titles. From the following menu, can you fill in the blanks with foods and drinks to order your meal and in turn complete the titles?)
  • "The Bitter ____ of General Yen" (1933 Capra drama with Barbara Stanwyck)
  • "_____ and Cigarettes" (2003 Indie with Bill Murray & Steven Wright)
  • "Don't Drink the ____ " (1969 comedy with Jackie Gleason)
  • "Days of ___ and Roses" (1962 drama with Jack Lemmon & Lee Remick)
  • "____ Money" (1994 comedy with Melanie Griffith & Ed Harris)
  • "What! No _____ ?" (1933 Buster Keaton comedy-talkie)


  • "_____ _____ ______" (1991 Southern chick flick with Jessica Tandy & Kathy Bates)
  • "_____ _____ " (1998 comedy with Drew Barrymore & Luke Wilson)
  • "_____ ______ " (2001 comedy with Hector Elizondo & Elizabeth Pena)
  • " _____ , Earl and Me" (1975 drama with Rosalini Cash & Laurence Fishburne)
  • "The ____ of New York" (1937 drama with Cary Grant & Edward Arnold)
  • "Herbie Goes ____ " (1980 Disney comedy with Cloris Leachman & a VW Bug)


  • "_______ Hill" (1987 Vietnam War film with Dylan McDermott & Don Cheadle)
  • "Mystic _____ " (1988 romantic comedy with Julia Roberts)
  • "With Six You Get _____ " (1968 comedy with Doris Day & Brian Kieth)
  • "________ " (2001 crime drama with John Travolta & Halle Berry)
  • "A _____ Ain't Nothin' But a ______ " (1978 drama with Cicely Tyson & Paul Winfield)
  • "___ ___...The Movie" (1984 ski comedy with David Naughton & Shannon Tweed)


  • "______ _______" (1930 Marx Brothers comedy)
  • "The _______ Man" (1998 Robert Altman thriller with Kenneth Branagh )
  • "American ___ " (1999 comedy with Jason Biggs & Alyson Hannigan)
  • "Charlie and the _____ Factory" (2005 fantasy film with Johnny Depp)
  • "The _____ ______" (1966 Billy Wilder comedy with Jack Lemmon & Walter Matthau)
  • "_____ _____ Man" (1995 low budget horror film with Clint Howard)

The above Movie Food Quiz appears in the November 2005 Games Magazine. The answers, numbered in order follow:

BEVERAGES: (1) Tea, (2) Coffee, (3) Water, (4) Wine, (5) Milk, (6) Beer SIDE DISHES: (7) Fried Green Tomatoes, (8) Homefries, (9) Tortilla Soup, (10) Cornbread, (11) Toast, (12) Bananas ENTREES: (13) Hamburger, (14) Pizza, (15) Eggroll, (16) Swordfish, (17) Hero Sandwich, (18) Hot Dog DESSERTS: (19) Animal Crackers, (20) Gingerbread, (21) Pie, (22) Chocolate, (23) Fortune Cookie, (24) Ice Cream.

(By the way, I didn't do so good on this quiz. I scored 15 out of 24. I never heard of five of the films. I had to use the groupings to get some of them. If you are a die-hard movie buff, you should score better than my 15.)


Thursday, September 22, 2005

I know My Writes!

For the record this finger is pointing at the author and not at any of you readers. Yes, I pulled one of those brain-freeze, asleep-at-the-wheel acts of dumb this evening. I ran a stop sign and ended up in Loserville.

The evening started innocently enough, in fact I was off to a routine practiced nearly every evening after a day at work. I suspect many of you follow the same steps when you fire up the new primary boob-tube, your computer. First I head to my own blog to read any comments that may have been deposited by any drive-by readers, as well as the regular visitors. Next, I guide my spaceship into orbit at my blog roll. (I have a rocket ship as my cursor.) Decisions, decisions, who do I read first? The eenie-meenie-miney-moe method is too long, so I opted for a more scientific approach; I went with the old heads-or-tails modus operandi.

Oops! Heh-heh. Now where'd the two-headed quarter come from? Tonight's winner in a best of three contest was Hoss !

In today's post, as well as the previous one, he has been touring his blogoverse and giving us a sampling of a typical day in his life. Like others, I have been one the lemmings leaping into the abyss of his blog roll. At last count, there are 103 stops on his daily treks.

Now Hoss knows talent, you don't need me for you to have that epiphany. So far every link to bloggers out there that I have clicked on per his advice, I have enjoyed nearly every word of every post. The last two days have been no exception. I have one policy that I adhere to faithfully, and that is that I leave a comment when I visit other bloggers.

Earlier I had been following Hoss' footsteps, picking up the markers he left along the way. Those markers, of course, are some of those 103 daily stops of his. I finished one site, moved onto another, onto the next and so forth. I read Shane, Latiga Flint and Lejnd. As Hoss had said, I was treated to some well written material.

It was at my next click that I found myself flabbergasted! What do I find? A classic case of plagiarism! Literary larceny! The nerve of someone! Who is this thief? This ingrate was an outright crook!

This wasn't a case of disguised plagiarism either. This character had copied what I was reading verbatim, word for word. You must be wondering, how could I be so sure? How come I was so adamant?

Because it was My stuff he had stolen!

Oops! It was my site!

The blogger you see emulating an ostrich, is me. While I was burying my head, I saw the error of my ways. Good ol' Hoss had listed me and my site on this particular leg of his travels. I forgot to check my IV before I turned on the computer. There was no more coffee dripping through the tube. I clicked on a link to myself, and in a myopic look at the screen "saw my stuff being posted by someone else."

After a caffeine transfusion, while Johnny Nash's "I Can See Clearly Now" rattled in my skull, I decided that I would forget the whole incident.

But after some thought on the matter, I decided to fess up instead. What good is it for me to try to write some funny stuff, and not be able to laugh at myself? So in the interest of humor, I will share the joke with others. After all, the joke is on me today.

Mensa Bus Stop

In the interest of humor, check out this picture of two students sitting in a bus stop on the Florida Keys. While Hurricane Rita is skirting past the Keys into the Gulf of Mexico, these Mensa candidates decided to wait for a bus even as the storm surge waters rushed in at them and their shelter.

I don't think their destination is important, I'm more curious about where they came from! If ever they wanted to become bloggers, I have a suggestion for the names they can use - Flotsam and Jetsam.

With their commuting skills so well documented, could they ever hope to make Hoss' blogroll?


Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Saving Ryan's Privates

A friend of mine, Jim Ryan recently got married to a divorcee with two kids. During the courtship he had developed a pleasant relationship with her twelve-year-old daughter Lisa and seven-year-old son Mark. So it came as a surprise when the boy became belligerent toward him last month.

While Jim didn't try to replace the father of the children, he did let them know that he was the man of the house. He projected authority and a fatherly image while treating them as if they were his own. The kids in turn showed nothing but love for him. I often saw him playing catch, riding bikes and taking them for rides in his classic Mustang convertible.

Inexplicably one evening when he was chastising Mark about throwing a rock at a passing car, Jim received the business end of a soccer shoe in the groin. As it was soon proven, it was not the last time. Despite intervention by the boy's mother, the lad's soccer practice seemed to include Mr. Ryan's testicles.

Unable to stop the sudden fits of anger, they decided that more than discipline was needed. Besides, there was more of a matter of health involved, not only that of the boy but the future of the family jewels as well. It didn't take long for them to seek counseling for young Mark. In the meantime, Jim had to taken wearing a cup around the house. I thought it was a wise move until the kid learned to kick only soccer balls.

About a week later they discovered the reason for the sudden attacks. The ex-husband, as it turns out, had been mentally abusing the him of late during his every other weekend visits with his father. Probably angry because he had to pay child-support, he had begun to plant stories about his ex and her new husband. For the record, this fact was revealed not by the counselor, but by Lisa who had witnessed her father's subterfuge.

The councilor, as it turns out was accepting money from the father. She was purposely filling the boy with negative thoughts about his mother and step-father. Upon learning that her services would no longer be required, she was still protesting when Mrs. Ryan slammed the phone in her ear. Interestingly, the counselor told her that her husband probably deserved a good swift kick every now and then. I ask you, how's that coming from a professional?

The kicking once again has been directed at black and white leather balls. However, Jim did say that his were black and blue. The pain has subsided both in his relationship with his step-son and behind his zipper. A few days later he stopped wearing the cup.

The story would have, could have, should have ended there. (Woulda, coulda, shoulda...)

It seems that for his birthday, the Ryans bought the lad a punching bag and boxing gloves. The idea was for him to vent his temper and any angry thoughts on the punching bag. All had been going well....

That is, until Jim was steadying the bag for him Monday night while he was watching Monday Night Football. He isn't quite sure how it happened, but while his attention was directed at a long touchdown pass, somehow the boy missed the one bag. Somehow he had punched the wrong bag!

I understand that a when a Constable who was delivering a warrant for the counselor to appear before the City Licensing Board, tried to serve her, he found her office locked and unopened mail piled on the floor. It appears that she has decided that remaining in our city was not conducive to a successful practice.

As for Jim and his new family, I think they are having a ball.


Tuesday, September 20, 2005

On The Job Straining

You know all those self-help books out there? Well, I for one don't think they are all what they're cracked up to be! Oops! Excuse me, I wasn't referring to this particular book. Honest, I was just looking at all the pictures.

Hmm, Rule #2 says something about using a sock in your pants. Wouldn't that be false advertisement? A word of caution: Be sure to put sock in FRONT of pants!

Ahem! Anyway, I was referring to "Creating Web Pages For Dummies" trying to figure out what I might be doing wrong. It appears that I have been doing a lot of things wrong! It took me while after I started this blog site, to figure out how to get the counter onto the sidebar instead of on each posting. I finally figured it out, after admitting to John that I didn't know how.

What's this? Mind you, I am only looking at this stuff out of curiosity. You know, I'm seeing what I might have done wrong in the past. Yes, I'm talking about the blog! Rule #3 is interesting! When talking to girls make EYE contact and don't stare at her chest. "Nice to meet both of you," is not a good conversation starter. It is not cool to make the change joke: "You got two nipples for a dime?" I think my friend's advice was a nasty joke on me.

Oh, yeah. Where was I? My next frustrating bit of knowledge was how to add links. I knew I had to look into HTML. HTML: How To Meet Ladies? Anyway, I had to do some research. I found another book, "Simplified HTML Tips and Tricks," but it did not mention links. It did give me a few things to incorporate into my blog, so all was not lost. Once again on my own, I finally figured out how to add links to my sidebar and into my postings. Sheesh, forget a set of quotation marks and the whole thing won't work. Picky, picky! Well, my lists of links began to grow and grow when I noticed something wasn't quite right. All of my links were double spaced. (Everyone else had single spaced and they looked a lot neater.)

It is a good sign when you ask a date if she would like to have breakfast the next day and she agrees. It is NOT a good idea to then ask, "Should I call you or nudge you?" That was rule #4, by the way. Had I been privvy to that piece of advice, I might have had a better time at my Junior Prom. Hey, how do you like the neat screensaver? Wouldn't you like to play with them? The KITTENS! I meant the kittens!

Well, as you see can see, I finally figured out the spacing problem. It was all because of an extra "li" enclosed in brackets! One way to look at it is that if I ever want to add a space between the links, I know how. This is called Back-Door Education. Now if someone asks me if I am a Blogger, I can answer, "No, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn last night."

Oh, man! Now they tell me! You're not supposed to put the condom on until you are actually going to do it! Really, I'm not lying. It says so right here on page 112. It's rule #87! See what I mean, this what they mean by Back-Door Education. You learn it after the fact. You learn how NOT to under fire and learn how to later.

You see, I am a fast learner. I graduated Magnum Con Carne from the School of Hard Slaps. AND I am still learning with On The Job Straining.


Monday, September 19, 2005

Yolks for Old Folks

The youngins sometimes forget that us elders need love too. Things are more difficult for us nowadays. Things are harder to find. Some foods are more difficult for us to digest. All these new fangled gadgets are not easy for us to learn to use. Did you happen to see my teeth anywhere? What did you say? Burned up the earrings I made? Oh, turn up my hearing aid?

Even when we feel good, it is simply that one day is better than the last. We aren't always regular and we have to watch what we eat. Good results from a visit to the doctor's office is like winning at Bingo. I didn't take that red pill because it affects my stools. Mom still isn't using her walker like she should. Well, no I guess I'm not using my cane either.

We spend more time with Arthur and Angie nowadays because Phil and Connie must have left town. You don't know them? Arthuritis and his wife Angina are here nearly everyday. And Phil Ashio and Connie Lingas haven't been around in some time. I feel sorry for those ball players like Kobe Bryant? Why, you ask? Them announcer men are always talking about their hang time. Tarnation, that's private stuff. I know a lot about hang time, but I don't go letting the world know! And I know a lot about dribbling too.

What's with those whippersnappers down at the public beach anyway?
I went down there the other day and they wouldn't let me in. So I went to the lifeguard office to ask them why I couldn't go to the beach. You shoulda seen the one in charge. In my day we called life jackets like that "Mae Wests." I asked her if she wouldn't mind standing over me so I wouldn't have to spend money for one of them beach umbrellas. By the look on her face, I don't think she had a hankerin' to do it.

Anyway she said she was going to jog up and down the beach for a while. I decided that might be interesting enough to go fetch a beach chair and camp out for a while. I ain't no rocket scientist or nothin', but I seem to recall something about perpetual motion where two bodies in motion tend to stay in motion. Or something like that. Anyway, I was bound and determined to see what happened. Well all I ended up with was a crick in my neck from nodding in approval so much.

From the beach I went to the store to get some eggnog. Now I don't know if any of you youngins know how they make eggnog, but is a secret I have known all about since long before you were born. Contrary to what many folks think, you can't buy the original recipe eggnog at the store. First of all, you had to get ol' bessie drunk and slip a little of the applejack in the hen's food before anything else. The cow's milk and the hen's eggs together made an eggnog the likes of which you never tasted.

I grew up in West Virginia and my grandparents' eggnog was almost as famous as their apple cider. Now how you get apples drunk, is a story for another day. (I'm sure some of the other W.Va. bloggers know about cider and nog too.)

Those were simpler times when I was a kid back in the hills of Roane County. One thing I miss is when we used to go skinny-dipping in the ponds and rivers near my granparents' farm in Amma. I used to watch the Hayes sisters in the pond down the hill from the farm. You see, being a dirty old man is not a sickness. It was a learned skill from our youth. I think they knew when we were watching for a long time. I had been skinny-dipping with girls my own age before, and was surprised one day when they told me come out of the bushes and join them. It was the first time I ever saw girls older than me naked up close. They acted like I'd been in that pond with them all the time.

They sure had shapes and bumps that the young girls were missing. When I asked about them they giggled. They called them bubbies and shook them before my amazed eyes. When they stood up, it wasn't the bubbies that got my attention. I swear there was more hair there than there was on my head. I begin to shiver. I said I must be getting cold. When I got out of the water they could see that I was freezing solid. They all giggled and told me it was nothing, that I was just having a popsicle. They said it would go away. That was the first and last time I went skinny-dipping with those Hayes sisters. Like I said before, I miss skinny-dipping.

Like the song "Don't It Make You Want To Go Home" by Joe South, there is an Interstate highway running through the farms and homes where I went skinny-dipping as a child. That part of West Virginia is gone as is that part of my life. Those Country Roads can't take me home anymore, not to the home I used to know. But Mountain Mama always has her arms open.

No. 346

Sunday, September 18, 2005

In My Chair

In My Chair
As I sit in my chair,
I can recall the past-
Past only a few months,
When my eyes were cast
Upon your mother asleep,
Burdened yet with life
Which heaved and rose
Within her-my wife.
Now, that burden turned
Into the blossomed girl
Who innocently lies upon
My lap midst a hazy world.
You don't know me yet,
Little Gretchen, do you?
You hear me but only as a
Sound from images you view.
You must sense and feel
A security in these arms
Of mine and your mother's
Knowing no fears, no harms.
Someday in this chair,
I'll recall the past again-
Past for several years,
When my eyes will begin
To look at a young woman
Upset over some boy;
Or giggling at the mention
Of him with happy joy.
And still later in this chair,
When you come to visit,
I'll see a mother-to-be
In discomfort trying to sit
No longer on her father's lap,
But next to her loving mate,
Who someday in his own chair,
Will know a similar fate.
And still, a few months later,
I'll hold in my grasp
A grandchild of innocence.
Its hand round my finger clasp.
Yes, I'm dreaming ahead,
For now it's hard to believe
That someday your tiny head
A wedding veil will receive.
I can recall the near past and
Look to tomorrow somewhere
As you grow up and I old,
As I sit here in my chair.
_Michael W. Ashley
_July 6, 1974
(This poem was written when my daughter was 2 years old. She is going to use it in her Wedding Program. Thirty-one years later, it has been prophetic. The little baby girl who once lay in my lap is a woman now and is getting married. She has grown up and I have grown older. As I sit in my chair.)

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Trucking For Fun Things

The other day while I was trucking the web (surfing) for some images to harvest, I came across some cool sites. My name bouncing on the trucks above is one. It is amazing what you can find by entering "free" in the web search box. The images in this posting were found by clicking a link here and a link there - ( here a link, there a link, everywhere a link, Old McPointMeister had a blog....) - and they were free!
I must fulfil a request (actually it was a demand) by Hoss for a different license plate. Ask and you shall receive Hoss! In my previous post, "A Clean Plate?," I created several plates for him, Schnoodle, John, and Karyn. Okay, here you are Hoss:
You can make your own license plates at
ACME License Maker.

Maybe you would like to make a tombstone with your own original epitaph, like this one:
....You can make one at this site: Dog Crap .

Maybe you like church signs. Yes, you can make one of those too and put in your own inspirational messages. If you are interested, you can check it out at:
Church Sign Generator . There are three styles to choose.

I found this one at the license plate site. You can make your own Dymo Labels. You can use them for subtitles. So I made one announcing I had found it. (Please excuse the originality.)
For a direct link, check it out at: Labels by ACME Label Maker .

One last site to introduce to you; you have all seen those annoying "error messages" that pop up on your screens when you screw up! Well, I have. (I guess I am not as skilled at operating a computer.) Anyway you can make your own error messages. You can literally make hundreds of them.

My post "Errors of Your Ways" has several that I made.
You can make your own also from the site.

You can either take the site from the "ROFLMAO" error message to the right, or click this link: Atom Smasher .

So have some fun and make some license plates, labels, tombstones, church signs, error messages, and some bouncing truckloads of letters. Then feel free to: