Monday, October 31, 2005

Happy Blogoween


I sent this card to myself so that I could post it here as a card to all of you out there!

....(Did you remember to hold back your favorite candy before the Trick or Treaters showed up?)....

Most tasteless costume:
A man shows up at a Halloween party.
He is naked, except for a pair of in-line skates on his feet.
When the host opens the door and sees him standing there,
He says, "What are you supposed to be?"
The would be-guest answers, "I came as a pull toy!"
He could have come as John Belushi's 'Zit!'


What's That, A Head?

They say that house is haunted,
That inside there are ghosts;
Those who entered were taunted
By spectres who acted like hosts.

On a night of goblins and witches,
When you never know for certain
If Frankenstein and all his stitches
Is lurking behind a moving curtain.

Out back there is a spooky swamp
And an ancient creepy graveyard,
Where you can hear the loud chomp
Of viscious jaws biting bones hard.

Trick or Treat should be lots of fun;
Not to discover some open casket,
Not to to be chased by a skeleton,
And not to find a head in a basket.

They say that the house is occupied
By the ghost of some bumpkin,
And losing his head before he died,
Replaced it with a big pumpkin.

They say they who pass thru the door
Must help him to find his lost head,
And they are heard calling in the moor
Like the wailing cries of those dead.

What they say about the house is true,
The man with the head of a pumpkin,
He does very often come into view,
Because you see, I am that bumpkin.

You'd do well if you avoid that dark spot.
Stay away from the swamp and cemetary,
And you'll hold onto that head you've got.
For with my axe, it is only gash and carry!


Sunday, October 30, 2005

Who Slew Jack O'Lantern? (part 1 3/4)

When a Halloween party turns deadly and every suspect has a motive and none have an alibi, can Detective Leadbutt solve the case? Always in the shadow of his more famous brother-in-law, Chief Ironsides, he is determined more than ever to solve this unsolvable case. Time is running out. Can he avoid eating humble pie before the guests have pumpkin pie?

Leadbutt, notepad in hand, slowly walked around the remains of Jack O'Lantern. The broken body resembled a ... smashed pumpkin. "What else would a smashed pumpkin look like," he thought to himself, "but a smashed pumpkin?" He wrote down that it was gourdy sight, but hurriedly scratched out the line and replaced it with "gory sight." He cocked his head in the direction of the hall to where the guests were milling around.
...."Good grief!" he exclaimed. He got the attention of one of the waiters and said, "Tell that DJ to shut off that music." He shook his head as the waiter hurried off to comply to his request. Was there no respect for the dead anymore? He had a dead pumpkin and they were playing "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" by a group called Smashing Pumpkins. He muttered to himself, "If they want to play that music at his funeral that's one thing, but not at my crime scene!"
....Jack O'Lantern had been quite a large chap. It was said that he weighed close to 300 pounds. He was thinking how difficult it would be to smash a pumpkin that big. He decided that initially he would interrogate those guests who would have that kind of strength. He chuckled as he saw one little fellow in particular in the crowd. "I think I can safely rule out the Pillsbury Doughboy!"
....He started studying the initial statements of the guests, which had been taken by the officers who had been the first on the scene. He spread them out on a table and sorted them by their physical size and possible strength. It wasn't scientific, but it did give him a place to start once he was finished checking out the scene of the crime.
....He noticed a curious gash across the head of the victim. "Head?" He thought. "For crying out loud this guy was all head!" He presumed that a blow to the head with a blunt instrument must have subdued him and caused him to fall from one of the floors above. "Ouch. That must have smarted," he whistled as he looked up at the building's facade. He caught a sudden movement from one of the landings. Someone's head had been looking down upon the scene. From the area of that landing he heard music wafting from a room above.

...."I'll be damned! Another Smashing Pumpkins song." He recognized this song as "Disarm." It was curious that that group's songs would just happen to be playing this night. He stepped over a set of tracks that ran out into the fresh fallen snow and disappeared in the darkness beyond. "Funny," he thought, "There was no snow on the ground when I got here."
....Shortly he was upstairs following the wet tracks on the hall carpeting. He stopped at the door and read the placard: Jack O'Lantern. He knocked on the door and it swung open. A shapely young woman stood before him, a drink in her hand, dancing by herself to the music on a CD player. "Tonight, Tonight," was playing. "Whew", he thought to himself, "That's Mrs. Jack O'Lantern?"
....Smiling she said, "You like The Smashing Pumpkins, Detective Leadbutt?" He nodded, unable to take his eyes off the slit in her dress that ran up to her hip.
...."I see you followed the wheel chair tracks up here to our room. Astute detective work on your part."
...."You know who I am? How'd you know about the tracks?" Leadbutt was confused. The mystery was getting stranger by the moment. She had mentioned wheel chair tracks, but he was certain the tracks had belonged to a serving cart.
...."Why, you mean to tell me you didn't read the script, Leadbutt?" He spun around stunned. He knew that voice. What was he doing here? So it was wheel chair tracks he thought. It was him, none other than Chief Ironsides.
...."Why my dear, Leadbutt," she cooed. "Didn't you bother to read the script?" He turned back to face her. Was she mocking him?
....He decided to play along and asked, "What script? What are you both going on about this script?"
....'"The script for this blog, oh brother-in-law of mine!" Ironside could tell by the look on Leadbutt's face that he had no idea what they were talking about. "Look," he began, "I never had a brother-in-law on my TV show. Think about it."
....Mrs. O'Lantern ran her hand up to her hip bringing more attention to her exposed leg as she spoke, "Yes, please think about it. How many women like me would be married to a pumpkin. Besides, I'm not a gourd person." She walked across the room and knocked on what seemed to be a sction of invisible glass. "That's the inside of a computer screen. We are actually just words on a monitor on the other side."
....Leadbutt's face turned ashen. He had to sit down for a minute. He needed a stiff drink. The woman and Ironside were pointing to the table next to the chair. He turned and there was a ... drink. He could have sworn that the table and drink weren't there when he walked into the room. He tried to take a drink, but the contents of the glass were frozen solid. He sighed, that wasn't what he meant by a stiff drink. He was startled by a voice from somewhere beyond. It sounded like "OOPS!" Just as suddenly it was quiet. The contents of he glass were no longer frozen, he held a normal drink!
....Ironside smiled and said, "'Typo. The Blogger typed in your drink wrong. Spell-Checker doesn't correct wrong words, only mis-spelled words."
....Leadbutt looked at the woman with a leer forming on his face, "Do you mean to tell me that if he wanted to, he could have you standing on your head here in the middle of the room?"
...."No...No!" She screamed to no avail as she suddenly was turned upside down suspended in mid air. Her dress fell from her body to her armpits. Just as Leadbutt had suspected, she was wearing nothing under her dress except for stockings. Helplessly flailing her arms in a futile attempt to cover her exposed parts, she watched as Ironsides and Leadbutt exchanged high fives.
....Ironsides looked up at the spot of the screen and shouted, "Okay Pointmeister, you can let her down. We had our fun, and your readers had their laughs!"
....In an instant she was back on her feet, but the dress remained bunched at her armpits. "Put the dress down, damn you!" She shouted.
Ever so slowly the dress slipped downward and was finally back in place. Suddenly she screamed. Somehow Ironsides had managed to get himself caught under the dress. He was firmly pressed against her, his forehead on her navel.
....While they struggled, she trying to get him out from under her dress and he trying to stay there, Leadbutt had found a copy of the "script." He ignored the thump behind him when Mrs. O'Lantern and Ironsides tumbled to the floor. Curiously, he thought, the woman seemed to be putting up less of a fight, like maybe she was starting to enjoy it.
....An angry glare was apparent in his eyes, as Leadbutt threw down the script, stepped over the no-longer struggling couple, and headed to that point in the room in front of the invisible screen.
...."So this was not a murder story? That "body" is just a pumpkin someone smashed? This has all been just a BLOG for you to get a few laughs from the paltry few visitors you're going to get! At our expense? You made me dumb enough to believe that a pumpkin could walk around?"

Without a second thought, Leadfoot let loose his best punch at the screen! OUCH!

This blog has experienced technical problems at this time and will discontinue this posting until further notice.


Saturday, October 29, 2005

Who Slew Jack O'Lantern? (part 1/4)

"From ghoulies to ghosties and long leggety beasties and things that go bump in the night, Good Lord, deliver us!" -Anonymous

"It was a dark and gloomy night.." - Snoopy
Here begins a story of a gruesome crime. If you are squeamish and fear things that go bump in the night, you may not wish to read any more. If it is blood curdling suspense you crave, surf no further. A tale so horrifying it could only be called....

The Microsoft Crash

I was working on my blog late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight,
For my monitor on the desk begin to flash
And suddenly my PC began to crash;
....(It did the crash.) It was the Microsoft crash.
....(It did the crash.) It was a grave hard smash.
....(It did the crash.) It shutdown in a flash.
....(It did the crash.) It did the Microsoft crash.

From my blogatory in the castle west
To the plaster rooms where everyone slept,
The gals all came from their humble blanket
To see if I would hit the PC or if I'd spank it.

The techies were having fun,
The system crash had begun;
Outside it was storming,
The servors went down with no warning!

The scene was rocking hearing the friggin sounds
Of all my yelling backed by our barking hounds:
The wall bangers were mad and they said
"Enough with the vocals, get up - go to bed!"

Above all my coughin' the PC began to worsen
Seems it was troubled by just one person.
It then opened a window and said to click restart
I stretched and yawned, loosed a belch and a fart.

Now everything's cool, Pointmeister's back on line
And my Microsoft Crash is gone till another time.
For you, the sleeping , this blog was meant too
When you get to my blog, tell them Boris sent you.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was about to start a Halloween story. But since this post was so scary, I'll leave the title and make this Part I. Fair enough? Tune in at another Point time, to the same Point blog to find out "Who Slew Jack O. " Whoa, not that Jack O! This Jack O! Jack O'Lantern!

Now a word from that celebrity ghoul, the Grim Reaper himself.

"Did you remember to turn your clock back tonight? You wouldn't want to give me an extra hour in your closet, would you?


Put This In Your PC And Smoke It!

Listen up you lame brains out there! It is no longer correct to be politically correct. In fact the term itself is incorrect.

Let me deviate from my diatribe for a moment. Just what do you think of when you see the letters "P.C.?" Hold on, stop right there! Read the first paragraph again! Now, do you care to answer the question? I thought not.

The letters are to be renamed post-haste! The insignificant blather of the insignificant individuals or groups must forthwith be quashed. No more! Do you understand? What part of "N-O" do you not understand?

Help me out here, let's assign newer, more correct words to those letters once and for all. I have a few suggestions myself. I'll bet some blog readers out there can come up with a few themselves. Perhaps you current PCers can take your heads out of your asses long enough to participate. (Wow! It sounded like like a million bottles of champagne being uncorked at the same time!)

My first idea will use a hyphenated phrase as one word: "Pain-in-the-ass Creeps." Pretty good, huh? Oh, it's not to your liking? I guess the truth hurts. How about " Preposterous Curmudgeons?" No? "Pontificating Cretins?" How about "Poppy Cocksuckers?" Yeah, you're probably right, that one's a little too crude. (But it works!)

"Pretty Cool?" Who said that? Come on, surely you can do better than that! Okay. Okay! I'll stop calling you Shirley!

Look, we have to retrace our steps a bit, I guess. All of this "Politically Correct" bullshit that we are being bombarded with nowadays didn't just pop-up one day out of nowhere. Believe it or not, at its humble origins it was a practical tool against racism and sexism. It created an awareness of the unjust treatment of certain peoples and their beliefs.

Somewhere along the line, its message of correctness became misconstrued. A well known quote which was just created this moment says it all. "When something is misconstrued, somebody gets screwed." -(The Pointmeister, Oct. 29,'05) Everyone who had in the past been told to "get a life," or "get a job" decided to take up the P.C. banner. Those who needed to "wake up and smell the coffee," suddenly had a purpose. In growing numbers they got up off their collective asses and set out on their crusades.

After they had began spreading their messages, little did they know hat they were actually spreading manure! While they were patting themselves on their backs, which is hard to do when one's head is so far up their ass, they didn't notice that the garden they had been fertilizing was full of weeds. Yes, the "victory gardens" they reveled in were not displaying flowers or vegetables, but instead were useless plots besieged by unsightly and unwanted growths.

Did they ever think that maybe they should repair the damage they'd caused? Of course not, that wouldn't be P.C. to admit that they were wrong. Instead, the just recklessly moved on to a another Cause Du Jour. Not satisfied with forcing schools to change their time-honored team names, they mounted up and charged off to another arena.

Hey dumb asses! Do you see where this is going? That's right, I know about your latest victory. If it wasn't bad enough, the two individuals asked, and were granted the right, to remain anonymous. It "offended" them that elementary kids were going to have a Halloween dress-up day at school? Little second grade boys and girls dressed up in their Trick-or-Treat costumes is offensive? Collecting candy from the other class rooms is not "Politically Correct?"

You know what OFFENDS me? Sniveling spineless morons like you offend me! I assure you that are more than two of us who feel this way! What ever happened to the majority rules? Is this or is this not a Democracy? If it wasn't bad enough that 200 kids had to be told they couldn't have their party, the P.C. Police, two strong, didn't have the contents of a scrotum to be identified! It is probably a good thing you jerks did remain anonymous. I've been itching for a public hanging, not by the neck until dead, that wouldn't be very P.C. would it?

That brings me to the last suggestion for the new words for those letters. Yes, I want see to a hanging - by the short hairs! We'll call it Pubic Constraint!

It is a Preferred Choice that I end this Posting Calm. The Pointmeister Cares!


Friday, October 28, 2005

A White Halloween

"I'm dreaming of a White Halloween, with every Hershey Bar I give out. May your Halloween be happy and white, and may all your pumpkins shine bright." -(Sung to the tune of White Christmas.)

Oh my, the time has come for Halloween carols and snowballs. Scarecrows and cornstalks will stand beside snowmen.

Poor Linus, he'll be sitting out there in that pumpkin patch freezing his tush off waiting for the Great Pumpkin who hopped a plane for Aruba. There are no flies on G.P., and if there were, they'd be paying rent.

This could be happening in parts of New England this (sic) autumn. Indeed, Londonderry, New Hampshire recieved a fresh batch of 6 inches of snow last night. When the clocks are turned back this week end, those people aren't getting an extra hour of sleep, but rather an extra hour to shovel. I was thinking maybe I lost track of time, but checking my calendar I was assured that it was in fact still October.

"Come on now, it's lovely weather for a hayride together with you..")

Meanwhile, parts of Virginia, Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York also had snow fall in measurable amounts. There are going to be a lot of disappointed children. Their costumes hidden beneath heavy coats, and their gloved hands clutching their plastic pumpkins full of frozen candy, they will be unsure if they should be saying "Trick or Treat," or if they should be singing carols.

"God rest ye merry hob goblins..."

It might be funny to watch, but I'd lay odds it wouldn't be very much fun bobbing for apples in ice water, or playing pin-the-carrot on the snowman! Left waiting outside, the children will be shivering while we adults slip inside for a few glasses of cheer. (Imagine the brats that like to smash everyone's pumpkins getting their propers. They grab one of those frozen-rock-hard babies, hurl it to the ground, only to have it bounce back up and smack them in the face! Imagine them trying to explain to their parents. 'Oh, it was nothing, Dad. You think this is bad, you ought to see the pumpkin!")

"And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, Happy Halloween to all,the Tooth Fairy comes tonight!"


Wholly Crap

File this one under: "You Gotta Be kidding Me!"

For as little as $10.00 a week, Wholly Crap will clean your yard of that nasty dog waste. There are many advantages to keeping your yard clean. Dog waste compromises the appearance of your yard, attracts flies and other pests, pollutes ground water, offends the neighbors and most significantly, endangers the health of your pets and your family. Dog waste removal services exist to make life more pleasant for dog owners by eliminating the most unpleasant aspects of dog ownership -- at a surprisingly low cost!

Sign-up Now! Unless you have the Perfect Dog!

You can sign-up now by using our online sign-up form, contacting us through email or just pick-up the phone and give us a call! You won't be sorry that you did because it will help you and your pet live healthier lives.Please try to provide all the information on the form so that we may contact you in a timely manner.

Why should I be concerned with the removal of waste?

Dog waste often contains a variety of organisms--including bacteria and internal parasites--which may be both communicable and harmful to humans, especially children. Fecal coliform bacteria, for example, can cause severe stomach illness and rashes.
In addition, various diseases and parasitic infestations also can be spread from dog to dog through uncollected feces. "Because many dogs have a propensity to eat another dog's waste, the threat of spreading disease this way should be a real concern to pet owners.

Franchises Availablein Ohio and PennsylvaniaClick here for information
Email for More Informationor phone 1-800-929-0808
Contact Information:392 Seaburn Street • Brookfield, Ohio 44403Phone: 330-448-1700 • Owner: Patty DiGiacobbe

Well Hoss, here it is, a wonderful chance to make your pile! (Pardon the pun.) You can sew up the West Coast while Patty is concentrating her attention in Ohio and Pennsylvania. If someone ever says you're full of it, you can reply, "Thank you," because it'll mean you're successful. If someone asks you "How's work?" You can reply, "It stinks, but someone has to do it."

There is another outfit that provides this service in addition to doggie-sitting. I guess it is the smell of success? Doody Calls and Wholly Crap must know their shit!


Thursday, October 27, 2005

Shrimp On The Barbie 4

A Sci-Fi Suspense Comedy Mystery Farce Story

Welcome to part 4 of the story of the invasion of the small New England fishing town of Barbie. (To read the story from the beginning click HERE.)

This scene is at the dinner table of the President of Earth, Blyxtz Pyxl. It is the 26th of October in the year 2105. It is the eve of the Bicentennial of Alpha Centauri's victory over the fourth planet from the sun. Only fifty years earlier, the Centaurians had moved Earth into Mars' old orbit, while shifting Mars into the orbit of the former. This massive government project had cost the tax payers 400 thousand quintuple trillion and thirty-seven cents.
The opposition party had recently obtained copies of an audit of the project. Mr. Pyxl was only too aware of the cost over-runs, the illegal payolas and the countless improprieties with Project Orbit Shift. Then there were the activists protesting the treatment of the native fauna, especially that of the humans.
...."I only did what I had to do to get the orbital shift completed on time," he said to his wife and daughter seated at the table with him. He looked to his wife Mylyb, "What else could I have done?"
....She smiled to comfort him and replied, "Ignore those protestors, carling. No, wait it's darling, isn't it? I still have trouble with those terms of endearment the humans liked to use. Carling? Oh, yes. That was a liquid vitamin they liked to intake."
....Wylm, their 85-year-old added, "I really like asshole and shithead!" She giggled as she took a bite of her Van De Camps Fish Sticks. "That cute new kid in class likes me I think."
....Her mother was amused by her daughter's growing interest in the young males. "...And just what makes you think that?"
....Her face flushed, although their skin coloring made this difficult to see, she eagerly answered. "He called me a drock sucking slut!"
...."Oh my, this sounds serious," she said feeling a slight flush herself. She let one of her shoes fall off and extended her leg until her foot and prehensile toes were probing her husbands lap. She was dismayed that there was no response from his drock. Even when she had managed to free it from the confinement of his pants, he seemed oblivious to her advances.
....He was deep in thought wondering where he went wrong. Was it the Gravity Incident? That wasn't his fault, and once it had started it could not have been reversed. Not even the top scientists could have predicted what would happen when they turn on the Gravitation Shifter. He had endured many a sleepless night over the enduring sight of all those humans floating off the planet to their deaths in orbit around their own home planet. Every human being weighing less than 200 pounds had simply floated away.
....He remembered the hearings that followed. While it was determined to be an unfortunate industrial accident by the panel, many like himself felt compassion for the hapless creatures. The disaster struck particularly close to him. He and the rest of the advance force had befriended two of the humans a hundred years ago. He swallowed hard as he fought to keep the images from forming in his memory. To no avail, a tear formed in the corner of his eye, as was seeing again both Deputy Buster Cherry and Sheriff Harry Fuzz disappeared into the clouds.
....He remembered viewing the recordings from the off-planet tracking devices which had been deployed to create files for the InterStellar Archives. Although it had taken several hours, he eventually picked up Harry and Buster just as they left the atmosphere. He was in the process of zooming in on them when their bodies seemed to implode. The remaining fluids and tissue remained in orbit until the orbits of the two planets had been swapped. When the Gravitation Shifter was shut down, those remnants of what had been his friends were drawn back to the planet where they were incinerated in the upper atmosphere.
....That sickening emptiness returned to his stomach. The fear, the pain they must have endured....
The telephone was ringing and police radio was roaring with interference! Harry bolted upright. Confused he looked about him. His office ... He was back in his office!
On the desk before him was the empty box that been a large deluxe pizza with extra anchovies. An uncontrolled belch escaped his mouth. Another was welling up in his throat. He suddenly turned ashen as he noticed the small object at the end of his desk. It appeared to be an aquarium of sorts.
....Then he remembered. That idiot deputy of his had ordered that thing from the back cover of his Howard the Duck comic book. Sea Monkeys! Yes, he said they were Sea Monkeys. He looked around, but Buster was nowhere to be seen. "Where is that putz?" He queried aloud. Still, his stomach was churning. He felt so bloated that he might actually burst.
....A sudden chill coursed through every fiber of his body. Why was that thought so bothersome? He'd felt that way many times before. He didn't know what was driving him to pick up that magnifying glass. For some reason he couldn't fathom, he felt compelled to raise it against the side of the small aquarium. The tiny shrimp seemed to be attracted to him. There was one of them that seemed to be smiling and waving at him. Its face seemed almost ... Familiar to him.
....The was a sudden crash as Deputy Buster Cherry came barging through the front door. Roused from his reverie at the plastic tank, Harry stood up reaching for his pistol. He relaxed when he saw it was his deputy. His eyes widened as they became transfixed on the objects Buster had cradled against his chest. It was four empty boxes of fish sticks!
....Although it wasn't something he wanted to hear, he listened as the excited deputy reported how he had found the empty boxes in the park near the bench. The chill returned, a cold sweat was forming, and he was about to throw up.
....Inexplicably his body seemed to betray him as he flopped back into his chair. He shifted in discomfort.
....The Sheriff had shit his pants!

The End.


Wednesday, October 26, 2005

A Soldier of Less Fortune

They say that old soldiers never die, they just fade away. Yet with reverence, I must pay homage to one such warrior.

He once stood proud, ready to enter into an arena of conflict. In victory he once stood tall and raised high his banner. Time and again he answered the call to arms. Time and again he was hailed after his victories as the conquering hero.

The rules of engagement changed from battlefield to battlefield, from enemy to enemy. Whether in negotiations for peace, or under fire, once he'd slipped in through the defenses, his skills in close quarters combat was evident and served him well.

Glistening from battle, he'd stood proud before the bodies of his combatants. Often he'd faced the challenge from the vanquished to do battle again. They would lock horns with a renewed vigor, their parries and thrusts respected by the other.

To this day he will take up arms if he is called upon, ready to enter into combat. The thrill of the battle, and the uncertainty of the outcome fuel a common respect and admiration, one foe for the other. The challenges however, are not as forthcoming as once they were. The arenas of combat are more familiar now, and not some distant unnamed place.

No, this soldier has not faded away. Though his head isn't raised as high, his drive and his resolve are as strong and as determined as they have always been. He yearns for the excitement of a confrontation. He misses the strategy before the battle. He misses the endgame. He craves that driving force from cover onto a new battlefield. Although the faces of the combatants today are younger and their bodies are sleeker and stronger, he is aware that either might come out on top.

This soldier has not faded away. Where once he stood proud, his eye to the skies, now he looks only ahead when he marches into battle. He is symbolic of the classic soldier. Though the helmet hangs still, his battle gear is primed, for he can still answer the call to arms when he is needed. He is aging, a victim of time. He is an ember, yet glowing and alive.

I salute you, oh gallant warrior. You have not faded away, but rest in repose until the next glorious battle.


Merry Maelstrom and a Happy Hail Storm

And I heard him exclaim, ere he forecast the rain...
"Merry Maelstrom and a Happy Hail Storm to All!"

What a lovely day! Yes, it was a wonderful day ... if you are a duck!

I've come to the conclusion that the city of Seattle has been missing out on some of its rain allocation for the year. I would appologize to the Northwest, but I have no control of the weather obviously, and we would gladly return any and all of it to you!

What with sixty mile per hour wind gusts, sideways rain, and dime sized hail stones here and there, it was the kind of day that would bother almost everyone, except maybe Aquaman and Prince Namor, The Sub Mariner. I even heard reports that the effects of these storms have been felt inland also. Parts of Virginia, Ohio, West Virginia and Pennsylvania have actually had some snow. For crying out loud, it's still October!

The entire eastern seaboard is in the clutches of yet another hurricane. This time it is Wilma. After raising hell on the Yucatan Peninsula and southern Florida, she has finally heading ultimately out to the open Atlantic. To add insult to injury, her western edges have been slapping the eastern coastlines from Florida to Nova Scotia. If a hurricane can be named after a woman, then I'll say that this one has been an insufferable bitch!
....In New England, the remnants of Tropical Storm Alpha has been pushed ahead of Wilma, merging with her leading edges, and in turn dragging her on a northeasterly path at a hastened pace. When you throw in winds from the North Atlantic islands of Greenland and Iceland and mix them with the warmer temperatures out of the south, we are "rewarded" with the makings of a classic Nor'easter.

"We wish you a Merry Maelstrom, We wish you a Merry Maelstrom, We wish you a Merry Maelstrom and a Happy Hail Storm!"

I can take solace in the fact, that this weather we are experiencing is nothing compared to what others have suffered in the wakes of Katrina and now Wilma. I pray that the buck will stop here with Alpha, that there will be no Beta!


Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Are You Dumb?

I came across the "Are You Dumb" quiz (there are only 3 questions) over at this site: Scroll to the bottom of the page until you see a picture like the one at the left. Click on the picture. Can you answer all three questions?

Time out for some HillBilly Humor.





Do you like George W. Bush bashing? Then do check this out. I thought it was hilarious! Make George dance and marvel at his moves!

Profound thought of the day: If your chia pet is dying, do you take it to a gardener or to the vet?


Shrimp On The Barbie 3

(This is part 3 of a satire beginning HERE.)

A Sci-Fi Suspense Comedy Mystery Farce Story

This is part 3 of the story of the invasion of the small New England fishing town of Barbie.

Sheriff Harry Fuzz had found himself surrounded in a closing circle of the strange shrimp-like creatures. Along with his intrepid deputy, Buster Cherry, they had tracked down the suspects of a series of recent crimes.
....The smallest of the Shrimp people was aiming an electronic device at him. Imagining it to be a disintegrating ray, Harry had been struggling not to shit his pants. One of Barbie's finest suffering that indignation was enough, he thought.
.....There was a series of beeps and blips followed by a high-pitched whir emanating from the weapon. He almost lost control of his sphincters! He knew he was about to buy the farm.
....Suddenly there was a break in their ranks as some of them stepped aside to allow two more of them to pass through. Harry stared dumbfounded. Buster was with them, but not as a prisoner. He appeared to be chummy with them, laughing and talking to them.
...."Sheriff Fuzz, they are not monsters after all. They are really quite pleasant people," Buster said with a grin. He turned to the one at his left who appeared to be a female. The creatures had no discernable external sexual organs, and as such he couldn't be certain. Harry Fuzz' eyes widened as Buster began to babble with some unintelligible sounds. Could it be their language?

"Hubie ubis thubie bubioss," Buster said to her. She smiled and nodded her head. He turned back to Harry and said, "It's okay, boss. I just told her that you are the boss."

He was not used to playing second fiddle to Buster. "How in the hell do you know how to speak that gibberish of a language?" It didn't make sense. Buster Cherry had enough trouble with English, let alone a foreign language. Harry had tried to teach him "pig latin" once, but the deputy just couldn't grasp it.

"It's kind of funny, Harry. It's not really their language. It is an earth language," Buster replied. He saw the look on Harry's face and knew he would have to explain. "You see, Harry, these people are from another planet. They learned that language from listening to our radio and television signals that have been spreading through outer space for a long time. They heard other languages too, but they decided that this one was the one most likely that intelligent beings would use."

"Wait a minute!" Harry shouted. The beings suddenly shifted into a defensive posture. Harry paused. "Okay, okay. What are they getting in a huff about, Buster?"

"You're not gonna believe this, Harry. They don't trust you because they are offended by your smell."

"What?" Harry shouted again. "Are you going to stand there with your pants full of shit, and tell me they think I stink!"

"I'm afraid so, Harry. They told me that I smell like the air on their world. I remind them of home. Then when they found that I could communicate with them, they were happy they had found a friend," Buster said almost to proudly to suit Harry.

"All right. Assuming all that to be true, just what is this language they thought was spoken here? I have never heard it as far as I know," Harry said. "And how is that you of all people understand it?"

"Why it's Ubbi Dubbi, of course! They just happened to pick up the signals from a PBS program for kids called ZOOM." Buster grinned before continuing. "I was a kid once, Harry. ZOOM was one of my favorite shows."

Still confused, Harry decided he would deal with the details later. He was still faced with a town invaded by giant shrimp from outer space. It sounded like one of those old Saturday matinee b-movies he used to watch as a kid. Since he was responsible for maintaining the law in this town, it was time for him to take the bull by the horns and try to gain control of the situation.

"Buster, try to find out what are Shrimp People want. Why are they here?"

The deputy cleared his throat before answering, "They are here to take over the planet!"

To be continued.... HERE.


Monday, October 24, 2005

Now That's A Blog Roll!

I borowed this from Monty, who borrowed it from Ang. Now, there's one question I just have to ask: Who signs the check? I'll take the $10 Grand and start all over. When that new blog reaches a desirable value, I'll sell again. Etc., etc.

My blog is worth $10,161.72.
How much is your blog worth?

In the corner next to the printer there is enough room for a bubbler, and not your ordinary run-of-the-mill bubbler either! Hey, I've never been accused of having bad taste!

When Hoss gets wind of this deal, he will be hearing the melodious ch-ching of cash registers. This will be a hard deal to pass up for a man who is hell-bent on making his pile. Who knows, he could franchise his blog. He'll make a pile large enough that he can afford to buy the Old Folks Home outright!

Then he can sit back and watch the Old Hoss TV Network. Of course, he can have the Internet piped into his television set so that he can read his blogroll during the commercial breaks from "I Love Lucy" and "Death Valley Days." (Rumor has it that he is the Old Ranger.)

Well fellow bloggers, what are you going to do with the proceeds from the sale of your own sites? Just think we can make our piles too!

Excuse me, the maid just came in with my dinner. Let's see, what have we today? Yummy! Pheasant Under Glass and ... Baked Alaska for dessert! Who'd have thought blogging would be more than just fun? Sheesh! What a schedule I have today; massage at 1:00, Board meeting with Billy Boy about my tender offer for Microsoft at 2:00, and the maiden voyage of the new yacht at 3:00.


Sunday, October 23, 2005

Blog, Stock and Barrel

Today while I was surfing the web for some interesting images to harvest, I happened onto a site which supplied links to some "different" sites. I could use such synonyms as odd, strange or bizarre and still not properly describe some of them. I suspect that these sites are deep in the underbelly of the Internet.
....Won't you come along for a ride down the causeway that features the side shows and freaks?

Come on, admit it! You've always wanted a fish tank on your toilet. Well, the Pointmeister has found them. Simply visit Aquariass and place your order today. The fish tank is self-contained and the flushing water is separated from your aquarium.

Before today, I never knew I needed a popcorn fork ! Does it mean no more dropped popcorn? When I learned it had a built-in salt shaker, man was I sold!

Now this a great idea for a Christmas gift! Ladies, this will be appreciated by your man and it gives the "subtlest" of hints. (Don't tell him, but you can use it too.)

This is a must have for those who live in the country or like country flavors to their homes. These clocks will become the envy of your neighbors and a family heirloom for the ages.

Even if you are not politically active, these one of a kind cookies will impress you so much you might not want to eat them at all. Don't care for politics? Try the other offerings.

Ladies, does your man turn you off because he is too hairy? This product is for you. The cartoon intro alone is worth a visit to the site.

Dog lovers I found something for you too! Is your dog one of those breeds that have a bad reputation? You can solve that problem with this simple kit and easy to follow instructions. An 'actual' transformation can be seen at the site.

If you know someone who is tired of the fact that their truck has no balls, you can fix that problem here . A must have for all truckers.

This Pez site should be of particular interest to the Pez Family of Bloggers. You can actually have your own likenesses applied to a personalized Pez dispenser. When I clicked on this feature, however, it came up "page temporarily unavailable." He also has photos of an impressive collection of these dispensers, as well as other features.

I don't know, perhaps it is me, but I find it disturbing that a grown man would want to dress up as Peter Pan .

Did you ever have an uncle who like to play this silly joke on you? Maybe it was your father or grandfather? Maybe it was a nun at your Catholic school? Maybe you have been the perpetrator of the trick yourself. On the red screen, click on either of the two hands.

What do Michael Landon, FDR and Suzanne Somers all have in common? If you guessed this you'd be correct.

Finally, I'll complete a baker's dozen by directing you to a restaurant in Hampshire Dorset in England. It is quite a fancy place and is quite popular. They even grow their own fresh seasonal vegetables in a new Steinway Grand Piano. But what stands out the most about this eatery is its unusual name . Check out the menu items on the side bars for a few raised eyebrows.

I hope you enjoyed this jaunt through the rock garden, where when you turn over a stone, you'll never know what you'll find lurking there.


Shrimp On The Barbie 2

(This is part 2 of a satire that began HERE.

A Sci-Fi Suspense Comedy Mystery Farce Story

Sheriff Harry Fuzz tightened his finger on the trigger as Deputy Buster Cherry began to pull open the door to the refrigerated chest. Someone, or something was trapped in there. It had been a harrowing night in the small fishing town of Barbie. He wanted nothing more than to apprehend those behind the crime wave. After that, he wanted to get as far away from his deputy as he could. The fool had gone and shit himself only minutes earlier. He was already beginning to smell rather ripe.

He held his breath as the door swung open. A limp body slumped to the floor, just missed by the sheriff's reactionary shot. The bullet ricocheted off the concrete floor and careened from metal wall to wall before striking a compressor suspended from the ceiling. The smell of ozone wafted from the motor and sparks lept about before the compressor came to a stop. From behind him, Fuzz heard water dripping. He didn't need to turn around. Buster had just pissed his pants too.

He knelt beside the man's body on the floor. It was Dick Bender, the grocer. Harry was relieved to find that he was alive. He was nearly frozen, but he would recover. "Oh, damn," he looked up in the direction of Buster who'd entered the chest to look around. He grimaced figuring Buster had probably thrown up this time. "What's gonna happen to all these Sara Lee desserts with no professor?"

Harry sighed, "Compressor. Compressor!" Shortly at the front of the store, the sheriff completed his questioning of the witnesses. Neither Lottie Butz nor Myna Bigger had seen anything. They assumed that Mr. Bender was using the facilities when they came in. Nearby in one of the aisles, Buster was spraying a couple of cans of Glade into the air. The pine scented one seemed to work the best. Satisfied, he ambled over to the produce department after passing between the two women. Both of them sniffed, aware of an unpleasant bouquet. Mrs. Butz looked at Mrs. Bigger and stated that it smelled like someone had crapped in a Christmas tree.

"Hairy fuzz!" The sheriff turned to his right to where Buster had gone. "Can you belive it, boss? Everyone of these peaches are covered with hairy fuzz!"

"I need a vacation, a long vacation," Harry mumbled. "Come on, let's wrap this investigation. Okay ladies, good night."

In the patrol car, he watched Buster walk stiffly home. Harry wasn't about to let him in the squad car. It smelled bad enough from the time Buster had left a limburger sandwich in the car. Just what he needed, he thought, a medley of limburger, shit and piss. He pulled into the lot of the Chinese restaurant, he was hungry. He glanced up at the marquis above the entrance. Suddenly, he had no appetite. Tonight was not the night to eat at the Poo-Ping Chinese place.

He had sent Buster home to clean up and to meet him back at the park bench where their investigation had begun. They had some shrimp to capture. He pulled out his small telescope and began to scan the park. He nearly dropped it! "What in the hell was that?" he said aloud. He trained the telescope to the same spot and tightened his grip on it. He couldn't believe his eyes. The reports were true! Seeing was believing! There were several of them frolicking in the park. Damned if they didn't look like big shrimp he noted. Their movements and size suggested that the creatures were more human than the witnesses had reported.

It was at that moment that he decided he would have to capture and arrest them on his own. If he called the State and asked for help, he would be the laughing stock of every law enforcement agency around. "Hey Sheriff Fuzz, got any more of them king-sized shrimp left?" He knew that before long there would be Forrest Gump jokes spread all over the Northeast.

"What the..?" His deputy appeared in the telescope. He was creeping up behind the Shrimp People from the shadow of some trees. "Nice going, Buster. We have them surrounded now," he exalted. He headed in that direction, stopping every few yards to use the telescope. Then he noted some odd behavior from the creatures. Their heads were raised skyward. They appeared to be smelling the air. "Well I'll be damned," he said angrily. "He must have gone and shit his pants again!"

He became frantic, he could not see them anywhere. Even Buster was no where to be seen. He had closed to within twenty feet from where they had been. It was quiet, much to quiet. Even the crickets had ceased their chirping. He pulled back a branch to get a better look. He jumped back. There was one next to the tree holding some kind of electronic device, a weapon maybe? It turned and looked over his shoulder at him. It had bared its teeth causing Harry to jump. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn it was grinning at him!

He realized it too late, but he was surrounded. They had formed a ring around him and were moving in cutting off an escape route. The one with the electronic device was the closest. It raised it, and was aiming it at him. The device was making a faint beeping sound. Harry would have prayed to his maker at that moment, had he not felt a grumbling in his stomach. He was about to shit himself.

To be continued.... HERE.


Saturday, October 22, 2005

Bivouac In Cyburbia

Here it is, another Saturday afternoon. After my duties around the house have been accomplished, I can take a trip to the cyburbs. It is then that I can then settle down at the computer, while the CPU is whirring to life, and sip from a soothing cup of Joe. Camping out in the cyber suburbs is the cause du jour on Saturdays. When I am finally logged in, my initial action is to refer to my "Bulletin Board," otherwise known as the latest comments on my postings.
....To most bloggers, and I am no exception, I enjoy this part of blogging as much as I do composing them in the first place. In the work place, a pat on the back and a verbal "well done and a thank you" are certainly appreciated. So it is with blogging. As such, I try to leave comments at those sites that I visit, especially those I am visiting for the first time. If I am "bowled over" by anything I read, rest assured, I will express as much in a comment. Like El Barto, at the left, you might say that I leave my marker.
....Sometimes there is a comment from some reader I don't recognize. To me that is an open invitation for me to drop in on their blog. As a rule, I find that a lot those who take the time to read and and comment on the posts of others are talented in their own right. Indeed, I have read some that have impressed me enough for me to mention and link them in one of my postings, in addition to adding them to my blogroll.
....When I leave Commentville, my sojourn points me in the direction of Blogrollvia. My blogroll has grown considerably in the last few weeks, so much that I can only keep up with them by setting aside this time on Saturdays. Lately, while touring these sites, I have noticed a reference to HTN. At first I had no clue what the acronym meant, but there was a plethora of mention and photos of breasts, tastefully displayed, I might add. When I learned that the letters were for "Half Nekkid Thursday," and the exposure of their breasts was for benefit of breast cancer research, I was immediately transformed from a voyeur to an admirer. While I must admit that I admired the displays, my admiration is aimed at their bravado.
....A few years ago in a bar located in the Haymarket section of Boston, there was an annual "Tits For Tots" drive during the Christmas season. If you ordered a beer, the barmaid brought you a beer. If you held up a five dollar bill and ordered a beer, the same barmaid would lift her tank top to reveal an impressive pair, reach into the chest for a beer, and deliver it to you. Only after she had collected the five and the funds for your beer, would she pull her top back down. The five dollars went into a special red bucket with white lettering "Tits For Tots." In time for Christmas, these funds were in turn used to purchase toys for poor children in and around Boston. The last time I was there during the holidays, they had raised one hundred fifty thousand dollars. That was a lot of fives and boobs, but it was for a good cause.
....While Tits For Tots was a worthy cause, it falls short of the goals of HTN. Ladies of HTN, I salute you. There are those who would decry these acts as exploitation, I can attest that no guns were held to the heads of those barmaids. I am as equally confident the same will be true of these women who post their assets on their blogs. Let those who make this an issue, spend only half as much energy on a worthy cause of their own, a cause that helps someone and does not promote their own myopic agendas.
....Out of respect for all of you, I have chosen not to mention the names of your sites, because they can be found the same I found them, by taking a trip to the cyburbs. (This is not to suggest that any of you would or should be embarassed or ashamed, but more as a promotion for others to "get out there" and read some blogs, and oh yeah, to leave comments.

By the way, to the woman at the last site I visited, you have a great set! Ahem. I am a man after all.


Shrimp On The Barbie

Introducing a Sci-Fi Suspense Comedy Mystery Farce Story! A new genre created just for you blog readers. Why? Because I like you. And because it "wasn't" there.

They just washed ashore one night. Beyond the breakers tremendous waves thundered, pounding relentlessly upon the flotsam that had been their craft. Adapted for life in the sea, they had deftly avoided the large rocks littering the shore.

There were reports flooding the office of Sheriff Harry Fuzz that sea monsters had invaded the small fishing village of Barbie. Ida Claire said she had observed giant shrimp walking through her back yard ruining her garden of prized dandelions. Noah Nickers claimed to have seen big kewpie dolls strolling down Main Street. It had scared him so much that he had dropped his expensive bottle of wine. It was Friday, and at 85 cents a quart, he had bought the second-from-the-bottom-shelf stuff to celebrate the weekend.

"I guess I gotta charge 'em with grand larceny," Fuzz thought, "In addition to jay-walking nekkid through my town." He picked up an empty can of Diet Moxie and flung it across the room. It struck his deputy, Buster Cherry right smack on the forehead. He jumped to his feet as if he had been struck by a can. Fuzz shook his head and said, "Reflexes of a three legged moose!"

"Go get the squad car warmed up," he said tossing the keys to Buster, "We got us some trespassers that are impersonating shrimp."
"Ya spose they might be real shrimp, Boss?" he asked after they had sped off to the scene of the last reporting sighting.
...."Now why would ask a fool question like that?" Fuzz answered.
...."Well, it's not like I had any supper yet! I'm hungry and I like jumbo shrimp."

"Good help is hard to find," the Sheriff mumbled.
...."You an' me can handle 'em. We don't need no help," said Buster. He pulled his pistol from the holster and attempted to twirl it in his fingers. It promptly fell and landed on his foot, causing him to hop around in agony.
"Heaven help 'em," Fuzz groaned.

They arrived at the park bench across from the liquor store. It was beyond him why they called that old sidewalk seat a bench. Everyone in town knew it was where Noah Nickers slept every Friday night. When he took to drinkin' his ol' lady just locked him out of the house. Rose Nickers felt if her man was gonna drink like a bum, then he might as well sleep like one.

Flashlight in hand, Buster began checking out the park. Only a few steps in he found some trash lying in the path worn in the grass next to the "Keep Off Grass" sign. He nervously unholstered his pistol. Inspecting the litter, his lip began to tremble. There were four empty boxes of fish sticks. "Sheriff Fuzz!" he called out. "You gotta see this. It's ... It's just horrible!"

A twig snapped behind him. He lunged into action, and in five motions unholstered his gun, raised it and fired ... but there was only a snap of metal on metal. "Gosh darnit! I done forgot to put bullets in my gun again!" He shouted.
...."It's damned good thing too!" screamed Fuzz. "You trying to shoot me, Deputy Cherry?"
...."No Chief, I thought it musta been those monsters."
...."Monsters? What monsters? You been sniffin' that glue again?" He shook his head, and the more he thought about it, he was always shaking his head when Buster got involved with any serious police matters.
...."No, Chief. Look." he said pointing to the empty boxes on the ground. "Only monsters would eat the last four boxes of fish sticks left in town!" Fuzz squinted at his deputy. Was there really tears in his eyes? "Only two hours ago I was in Dick Bender's grocery mart and had him hold those fish sticks for me until I got off my shift. And darn it, I already paid him for them!"

....Harry Fuzz asked his deputy, "How much you out for 'em?"
...."Three Dollars and fifteen cents!" He was quiet for but a moment. "Do they think I'm made outa money?"
....The Sheriff let out a low whistle. Counting Nickers' 85 cent bottle of wine, the crime spree was was costing the town of Barbie four dollars so far. The last time there had been a crime of this magnitude in their fair town was when Ben Dover took his grandmother's Red Rose Tea figurine collection to school for show and tell. Poor young Ben forgot to get her permission. It had taken Harry all of three days to solve the crime because Ben had forgotten them at school. That was on a Friday and the school was closed the weekend.

"Let's go see Dick Bender, Buster," said Fuzz, "Maybe he can identify them and give us something to work on."
....They entered Dick Bender's grocery store and stopped. Bender wasn't at the register and the door was open. That wasn't like him. Fuzz, over his shoulder said to his deputy, "Something's amiss."
...."Yes, Sheriff Fuzz?" said a woman's voice from behind the potato chip display.
...."I wasn't calling you, ma'am," he responded. "I was just noting something in here was amiss.."
...."Yes?" said another woman's voice, this time from the greeting card aisle.

Deputy Cherry had been checking out the back of the store aisle by aisle, while up front Fuzz was getting statements from the two women. He noticed a certain smell as he neared the refrigerated chest out back. He heard a muffled sound coming from behind the door. The distinctive odor of fish was strong.
...."Oh, God!" he muttered. "Don't tell me they done got the fish cakes too!" He pulled out his gun and hollered out for the Sheriff, "Harry. You better get back here. We got the percolators locked in the fridge!"
....In moments, gun drawn he was by the deputy's side. "Percolators?"
...."Yeah. the ones that we are looking for," he replied. "They're in there."
...."Perpetrators! Perpetrators!" he said glaring at him.

Taking a deep breath, Fuzz motioned for Buster to open the door as he trained his pistol at the handle. He felt a few beads of sweat forming on his brow. He sniffed the air, detecting another odor stronger than the fish smell. He sighed and shook his head. His courageous deputy had shit himself. He tensed as Buster's hand reached for the metal handle. This was one of those moments that he had trained so hard for over the years. He swallowed hard and tensed as Buster began to pull at the handle.

To be continued...... HERE.


Friday, October 21, 2005

How Do You Blog?

I sometimes get to thinking ... Not a good idea for an unlicensed thinker ... About how other people produce their blogs.

Do you just sit down at the keyboard and start typing the thoughts that enter your mind? Do you have an idea of what you're going to write? Are you compelled too, to post even if you have no idea of what to write?

As for myself, it is seldom that I compose directly to the screen. I usually write out my blogs onto a legal pad. That affords me the opportunity to edit before before I publish. I can fix a faux pas before committing it to the screen. As this is a public forum, I don't wish to across as a crude rude and lewd dude by exposing my dangling participles.

If my postings are to be in any way based on fact, then my information should be correct. "Show me a reporter who only gets half the story right ...And I'll show you a reporter with a 'nostril for news." ("Borrowed" from the 10/20 comic strip B.C.) It is not easy to scour the news for interesting information, I mean have to actually read those articles! Take for example a column titled "Briefs In The News," if I weren't careful, you'd think you were reading about underwear.

You'd be scratching your head if on a posting you were to read about a man who was arrested because the authorities had found $100 bills hanging on a clothes line in his back yard. By neglecting to provide the title, "Wiseguy Busted For Money Laundering," you would miss the point of the story altogether.

Remember, being anal retentive isn't necessarily a bad thing - just ask any successful proctologist."

Sometimes I have no particular topic to discuss. When that happens, I'll hop on the old surf (mouse) board and "borrow" a picture or two and upload them. Many times I find myself inspired by a picture or an image to write a blog around it. When that fails, I'll type in a title and try to give it a story. When that fails, I will slip into a blathering ramble, (sic) this posting.

A random thought can sometimes blossom into a post-worthy blog:

Male voices change at puberty: I wonder what Gilbert Godfrey sounded like before that change.

When you do number two and leave only one piece of evidence, would that be a monolog?

Is lemon aid a branch of Medic-aid that provides financial assistance for used car repairs?

If a gynecologist were to give up his practice and study law, would he then become a Pubic Defender?

Did you ever notice that "blog" spelled sideways is "glob?" No? Well it does!

I wonder what methods you other bloggers employ when experiencing writer's (blogger's) block. There is one method that some probably use ... Which I am too stubborn to use ... And that is to simply not post anything. How do you do that? You know, after giving it some serious thought, I really don't want to know!