Monday, March 31, 2008

Echoes of Eddie -14

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the fourteenth installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

"Tiffany? Uh ... What are you doing here?" Trying to collect his senses, he didn't think anything could surprise him anymore. Tiffany was the last person he ever expected to walk into his bedroom at ... "What ... what time is it?"

"Catherine told me to come on up here, Steve. She said you should be getting up anyway," she replied and then glanced at here wrist watch, "It's 9 o'clock in the morning. She said you've slept for eleven hours."

Catherine appeared in the doorway and exclaimed, "Ah, you're up!" She nodded at Tiffany, "I sent her upstairs, Steven. I didn't think you would mind." She turned to head back downstairs and said, "Mama's in stable condition ... in intensive care. She ... She's still in a coma ..." She wiped a tear from her cheek and added, "You talk with Tiffany for now ... We'll talk later."

"Steve, I'm so sorry to hear about your mother," Tiffany said lowering her head. "Look, I know this is an awful time for me to be here, but we really must ... talk! If you want me to leave, I'll understand."

"It's okay. You're here," he said stifling a yawn. "So, what is you want to talk about?"

"For starters, I want to apologize for Hunter's actions yesterday. He had no right."

Steve stood and faced her, "Sure he did! I'm a pariah. You heard him. I'm responsible for all those accidents. Tommy Joe, Mindy, Jeffrey and Freddy ... all of them are dead because of me." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Eddie's using me to get his revenge!" He turned his back to her, "That's what you want to talk about, right?"

"Yes ... NO!" She sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Look Steven, I don't believe in curses or ghosts." She covered her face with her hands, "Damn it, I don't know what to believe any more." She began digging through her purse, trying to find something.

"Well your husband certainly does ... and apparently everyone else in town too. So, why not you?"

She pulled a clipping from her purse and extended it to him, "Here, read this. Read it out loud."

Steve eyed her curiously as he unfolded the piece of newsprint. He raised it closer to his face in attempt to make out the words upon it. He cleared his throat and read the four lines:
"Atop that hill we'll be together soon.
Debts will be paid where it all started,
And underneath the big full moon
The living will soon join the departed.
In silence he read the lines again. He felt that same chill that he'd been feeling on and off since the day before. He hoped Tiffany didn't sense his unease. "O...kay! Who's the joker?" he asked.

Tiffany shrugged her shoulders, "It was an anonymous ad in the paper the day before yesterday. The assistant editor said it was left under the door with instructions on a typed letter and $16 in cash to cover a one day run in the Want Ads section."

The chill coursing through his veins began to intensify. "Did you say the day before yesterday?" he implored of her.

"Yes," she replied. "Why ...?"

"That's the day before I got here ... The day I talked to my mother on the phone and told her I was coming home," he whispered almost inaudibly. He slumped onto the bed next to her. His eyes met hers and still whispering he said, "You want to know something else about the day before yesterday?"

At first she shook her head but after a moment or two nodded with dread. "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"The day before yesterday, ten years ago ... was the night Eddie ... died!"

She launched herself to her feet and began to pace the room. The cries of some of the creaking floorboards sounded almost foreboding. A blast of cold wind crept into the room from the portal that was the open window and brushed the blue curtains aside.

She stopped and stood before him, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "Listen Steve. The others ... those of us who are left ... we agreed that all of us should meet ... to discuss all that's been going on."

He walked Tiffany outside to her car. He hesitated momentarily when he saw a shiny red sports car parked next to his old sedan. As she slipped behind the steering wheel she laid her purse next to a pair of binoculars and looked up at him. "Bye, Steve. We'll see you at about six this evening, right?"

He nodded and returned her smile. "Yeah, but I'm not too comfortable about the meeting place. Even so, I'll be there."

He didn't like it. He didn't like the whole idea. He felt like he was being set up as a sacrificial lamb being lured to some unholy altar. With all that had been happening, why would they want to be together at that place? What if the deaths were related in some way other than coincidence? Was he ... Were they all being set up? He didn't think it wise for them to return to the scene of the ... crime.

As Tiffany's car left the driveway Steve turned for the house. "So!" he said to himself, "That fancy red sports car belongs to Tiffany?" His mind was tossing around the fact that Jack's 'friend' was none other than Tiffany Blake/Jameson. "I wonder just how friendly they are," he mused over the curious development.

He thought he noticed movement at one of the venetian blind slats in the kitchen window. Someone, Catherine or Jack, had been watching them in the driveway. There had been so much confusion and turmoil since he'd returned, that he hadn't really had a chance to sit down and talk at length with his siblings. It was time they had that little sit-down.

"Hello?" she said into the phone. "Six o'clock tonight? It's all set then? Great! Yes, I'll let him know right away." She placed the receiver onto the cradle and glanced at the calendar on the wall.

( to be continued ... Echoes of Eddie-15. )


Sunday, March 30, 2008

Six Degrees of Kevin Makin' Bacon

SUBTITLE: Why Do Fools Fall in Bed?

A man was complaining to a friend: "I had it all; money, a beautiful house, a big car, the love of a beautiful woman; then, Pow! it was all gone!"
~~~"What happened?" asked the friend.
"My wife found out..."

The First Degree

A married man was having an affair with his secretary. One day, their passions overcame them and they took off for her house, where they made passionate love all afternoon. Exhausted from the wild sex, they fell asleep, awakening around 8:00 pm. As the man threw on his clothes, he told the woman to take his shoes outside and rub them through the grass and dirt. Mystified, she nonetheless complied. He slipped into his shoes and drove home.

"Where have you been?" demanded his wife when he entered the house.

"Darling, I can't lie to you. I've been having an affair with my secretary and we've been having sex all afternoon. I fell asleep and didn't wake up until eight 'clock."

The wife glanced down at his shoes and said, "You lying bastard! You've been playing golf!".

The Second Degree

There was a middle-aged couple that had two stunningly beautiful teenage daughters. The couple decided to try one last time for the son they always wanted. After months of trying, the wife finally got pregnant and sure enough, delivered a healthy baby boy nine months later. The joyful father rushed into the nursery to see his new son. He took one look and was horrified to see the ugliest child he had ever seen.

He went to his wife and told her there was no way he could be the father of that child. "Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered!"

Then he gave her a stern look and asked, "Have you been fooling around on me?"

The wife just smiled sweetly and said, "Not this time!"

The Third Degree

A mortician was working late one night. It was his job to examine the dead bodies before they were sent off to be buried or cremated. As he examined the body of Mr. Fuller, who was about to be cremated, he made an amazing discovery. Fuller had the longest private part he had ever seen!

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fuller", said the mortician, "but I can't send you off to be cremated with a tremendously huge private part like this. It has to be saved for posterity."

With that, the coroner used his tools to remove the dead man's scaling. He stuffed his prize into a briefcase and took it home. The first person he showed it to was his wife. "I have something to show you that you won't believe," he said, and opened up his briefcase.

"Oh my God!" the wife screamed, " Fuller is dead!"

The Fourth Degree

A woman was in bed with her lover when she heard her husband opening the front door. "Hurry," she said, "stand in the corner."

Then she quickly rubbed baby oil all over him and then dusted him with talcum powder. "Don't move until I tell you to," she whispered. "Just pretend you're a statue."

"What's this, honey?" the husband inquired as he entered the room. "Oh, it's a statue," she replied nonchalantly. "The Smiths bought one for their bedroom. I liked it so much, I got one for us too."

No more was said about the statue, not even later when they went to sleep. Around two in the morning, the husband got out of bed, went to the kitchen and returned a while later with a sandwich and a glass of milk.

"Here," he said to the statue, "eat something. I stood like an idiot at the Smiths for three days and nobody offered me as much as a glass of water."

The Fifth Degree

A man walks into a night club one night. He goes up to the bar and asks for a beer. "Certainly, Sir, that'll be 1 cent." "One Cent?", exclaimed the man.

So the man glances over at the menu and asks, "Could I have a nice juicy T-bone steak, with chips, peas and a fried egg?"

"Certainly Sir," replies the barman, "but that comes to real money."

"How much money?" inquires the man.

"4 cents," the bartender replied.

"Four cents?", exclaimed the man. "Where's the guy who owns this place?"

The bartender replied, "Upstairs, with my wife."

The man says, "What's he doing upstairs with your wife?"

The bartender replied, "The same thing as I'm doing to his business."

The Sixth Degree

Jake was dying. His wife, Becky, was maintaining a candlelight vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her praying roused him from his slumber He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly.

"Becky my darling," he whispered.

"Hush my love," she said. "Rest, don't talk."

He was insistent. "Becky," he said in his tired voice, "I have something that I must confess."

"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Becky, "everything's all right, go to sleep."

"No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I ... I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend and your mother!"

"I know, my sweet one." whispered Becky, "Now hush and let the poison work."


Saturday, March 29, 2008

Driving Ms Hillary

You've Seen the Campaigns!

You've Seen the Debates!

Now See the Movie!

What began as a joyride through the primaries and caucuses of America, has quickly turned into a vicious battle of wits between Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Hussein Obama. Unfortunately, in a battle of wits both of them are unarmed.

When it comes mud-slinging and name calling, however, both have been packing serious firearms from their arsenals. Their weapons of mass distraction have been yielded to draw attention to their opponent's shortcomings, thus down-playing their own. It is ironic that it is their shortcomings that have provided comic relief to an otherwise boring Democratic race.

I was trying to think of a good reason that America should elect Hillary Clinton as the next President of the United States. All I could come up with was that she'll be bringing back all the White House property she absconded when she was last there.

While she was on the campaign trail in a small New Hampshire town, Hillary was honored to learn that a popular local restaurant had named a sandwich after her.

She entered the establishment and ordered the Hillary Sandwich. While she's waiting for the sandwich to be prepared she asked, "What's in the sandwich?"

The man behind the counter replied, "Mostly a lot of baloney."

Hillary's Deal

Hillary was finishing up a day as Senator for New York when the Devil suddenly appeared in her office and made her an offer...

"I am here to offer you a deal," the Devil said. "I will give you unlimited wealth, even more power, and a media that will pander to your every whim.

In return, all I ask for is your soul, the souls of every member of your family, and the souls of all your constituents."

Hillary pondered for a moment and then asked, "Unlimited wealth and power?"

"Absolutely unlimited," the Devil asserted.

"A pandering media?" she asked.

"They'll fall over themselves to support you, no matter what you say or do," the Devil assured.

"And you want my soul, my family's souls, and the souls of my constituents?" she asked.

"Yes. All of them," the Devil answered.

Hillary was deep in thought for a moment, then finally spoke:

"So...what's the catch?"

Talk about putting the wagon before the horse ...

Hillary has already commisioned an artist to paint her official Presidential picture to be hung up along with those of our former Presidents.

When advised that it was inappropriate not only to pose for the painting before being elected but to also represent herself as royalty, Hillary said, "I was born to sit on the White House throne!"

Hillary and the Fortune Teller

During a recent publicity outing, Hillary sneaked off to visit a fortune teller of some local repute. In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the mystic delivered grave news.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just be blunt: Prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year."

Visibly shaken, Hillary stared at the woman's lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She simply had to know. She met the fortune teller's gaze, steadied her voice, and asked her question, "Will I be acquitted?"

Then there is the matter of Hillary the war hero...

Well Hillary, you sure are under fire now, aren't you? Sorry, there'll be no Purple Heart for you. You'll have to make do with a red face.

Barack Obama's verbal attacks are not sniper fire.

Bill Clinton & the Genie

Bill Clinton was walking along the beach when he stumbled upon a Genie's lamp. He picked it up and rubbed it and lo-and-behold, a Genie appeared. Bill was amazed and asked if he got three wishes.

The Genie said, "Nope...Due to inflation, constant downswing, low wages in third world countries, and fierce global competition, I can only grant you one wish. So...What'll it be?"

Bill didn't hesitate. He said, "I want to be remembered for bringing peace to the Middle East, instead of that other stuff with Monica, and Jennifer, and the rest of those women. See this map? I want these countries to stop fighting with each other."

The Genie looked at the map of the Middle East and exclaimed, "Jeez, Fella! These people have been at war for thousands of years. I'm good, but not THAT good. I don't think it can be done. Make another wish."

Bill thought for a minute and said, "You know, people really don't like my wife. Even though she got elected, they call her a carpetbagger. They think she's mean, ugly, and pushes me around. I wish for her to be the most beautiful woman in the world and I want everybody to like her. That's what I want."

The Genie let out a long sigh and said, "Lemme see that map again."

Federal Reserve To Issue New Legal Tender

Long Live The Queen


Friday, March 28, 2008

The Search For Dollar Bill

Poor old George. He's looking rather peaked lately. The dollar ain't what it used to be. You can't even buy a cup of coffee for a dollar anymore.

If the dollar is so weak for us working stiffs, what's life like for the less fortunate? How are the street beggars and bums surviving?

The It Occurred To Me staff decided to enter the underbelly of the city, the world where the indigent work and play. Our goal was to explore this strange world ... To seek out life forms there ... To boldly go where no one wanted to go before!

Hey, that would make a grand opening narrative for a Sci-Fi program. Picture a crew of street beggars, bums and hobos in a star ship roaming the galaxy in search of a handout! "Beam me up, Scotty. There's no money down here." ... I digress.

The first down-on-his-luck denizen we found in a back alley was none other than ... Mickey Mouse. It seems that the once famous rodent had been reduced to a life of running numbers, taking bets on sporting events and pimping. His girl, Minnie was out working the street, although she spends most of her time on her back. His long time friend Goofy was the enforcer, often using a baseball bat on the knees of those who dared to welsh.

We walked away from the squalor of his open air office thinking that an old adage was befitting. When one is at the top, the farther and harder one has to fall to land at the bottom. Mickey did however, point us in the direction of the last known address of the "king" of the street bums.

Dollar Bill, as he was known, had been plying the begging trade for several decades. Our search for him would turn out to be long and arduous. When we arrived at said address we found that a homeless female now resided there. She called herself "Penny Annie." She told us that as far as she knew Dollar Bill had moved to a better part of town - the financial district.

It only seemed logical that in these hard times he would go to where the money was - Wall Street. As we neared the financial capital of he world, we noticed that the street beggars were better dressed and cleaner. The pickings must have been good in that area. One such beggar was even using a Starbucks coffee cup in which to collect his coins from the passersby.

While interviewing one of these well-to-do beggars we were fascinated to learn just how successful Dollar Bill had become. His riches-to-rags-to-riches-and-back story was legendary in those parts. We were told that he was about to strike it big again. It appeared that Dollar Bill subscribed to some kind of yo-yo theory of economics.

Here is the story of his new success: Begging on Wall Street
There were three beggars begging on Wall Street. The first beggar wrote "Beggar" on his broken cup. He received $10.00 after one day.

The next day, the second beggar wrote "" on his cup. After one day, he received hundreds of thousands of dollars and an offer to float an IPO on NASDAQ.

The following day, the third beggar, Dollar Bill, wrote "e-Beg" on his cup. Microsoft, IBM, and HP sent corporate vice-presidents to talk to him about strategic alliances and offered him free hardware consultancy. In addition, it was reported on CNBC that e-Beg uses 95% Oracle technology and that I2 announced the launch of BegTradeMatrix; a b2b industry portal offering supply chain integration in the beggar community.
We learned of this story from a beggar who like some of his contemporaries carried laptops and used Wi-Fi to gain access to the Internet. This fellow said to us, "I used to be on the fast track - now I'm just off-roading."

When we finally found Dollar Bill, we were surprised at the luxury in which he now languished. Someone had recently bought a brand new King-sized Posture-Pedic mattress, a purchase that our man had wasted no time to take advantage of for his own personal gain. Before our very eyes, surrounded by a collection of the most expensive and finest stogies and cigar butts ever discarded was the man himself, lying prone on the box that had once contained the mattress.

Our attempts to interview him however, were in vain. Dollar Bill , forgetting from whence he'd come, haughtily deferred us to his agent. Imagine that! A street beggar, albeit a successful one, actually having an agent!

Thus it came to pass that we found ourselves back in the alley where our quest had begun. Dollar Bill's booking agent was none other than Mickey Mouse. The fallen star of TV and the Silver Screen flipped through the pages of an appointment book.

"Ah, here we go," he said with a foul-smelling stogie dangling from his lip. "Dollar Bill has an opening on the 31st of March, at 10 am."

"Great," I said. "That's next Monday."

"Not so fast," the mucky little mouse retorted shaking the cigar at us. "That's the 31st of March - '09!"

There you have it, readers. As of press time the preceding was all we had to offer and we had to go with it. Perhaps another day we can once more ... search for Dollar Bill.


Thursday, March 27, 2008

Martian Off to War

Marvin the Martian

I love the little guy. If I were to be reincarnated as a cartoon character, I think I'd want to come back as him.

In many ways I can relate to him. His schemes, although grandiose, always seem to backfire. He's the Wiley Coyote of outer space.

Essentially a loner, he yearns for glory and attention. Whether he sets out to conquer or to blow up the Earth, it is in the name of his home planet Mars. All he wants is to accomplish his mission and to live his life. Unfortunately, his mission and life keeps getting in his way.

Inside, I'm a bit of a loner too. I like attention, but I have to draw it upon myself. I found a long time ago that I could get attention by doing and saying funny things. I found more comfort in overt humor than allowing myself to exist in a shell of forced seriousness.

I guess there's no room for an extrovert in an introverted soul. If I were an extrovert, who knows, I might have been a stand-up comedian! If I had been more out-going I might have succeeded in achieving some of my school days dreams. I aspired among many things, to be a writer or a journalist. I imagined that with my artistic talents I would someday become a syndicated cartoonist.

Only by suppressing an awkward shy nature, supplanting it with humor, was I able to secure many friends over the years. Otherwise, I would have become the quintessential wallflower. Yet, I take pleasure in sitting quietly on the sidelines - listening and watching. It wasn't always easy being one moment the center of attention and the next the person in the corner wearing the lampshade.

When I was younger Marvin the Martian was my favorite cartoon character and he still is to this day! The bravado with which he carries himself as he aims his ray gun at those who oppose him is not unlike the humor with which I choose to arm myself. While Marvin's ultimate weapon of choice is the Iludium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator, I'm equipped with only humor for ammunition.

I find my bravado behind the screen of a monitor, secure in the anonymity it offers. There, I can be the writer I always wanted to be. There, I can also be a comedian, albeit a "sit-down" one. There, I can blast through the barriers I had built around myself so long ago.

Somewhere along the way, this Blog has actually become therapeutic. I find myself more accessible. I'm more open and less standoffish in public now. In no small measure, it has been the readers who visit here who have helped give the one thing I had been lacking all these years - confidence.

I know there isn't much humor if any in today's post, but sometimes it just feels good to unwind and to reflect.

Who knew that Blog readers were doctors?

It is most fortunate that a Blog a day does not keep the doctors away!


Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Does Not Compute!

Right or wrong? Smart or stupid?

To keep it in the proper perspective, one must determine if you are Tech Support or the customer. If I was placing a bet I'd put my money on those who work as in Tech Support as the right and smart. Thus the customer bears the colors of wrong and stupid. There are some exceptions, but I'm not going there with this post.
A Tech went to the Post Office to ship a package of software to a customer. Since it was expensive software he decided to insure the package.

P.O. Worker : "What are you shipping?"
Computer Tech : "Software"
P.O. Worker : "You mean, like, pajamas?"
Tech : On phone to customer, "Ok, in the bottom left hand side of the screen, can you see the 'OK' button displayed?"
Cust : "Wow! How can see my screen from there?"
Tech : "What type of computer do you have?"
Cust : "I don't know I just bought it."
Tech : "What kind of Mac of you have?"
Cust : "The kind that sits on the desk .. not one of those newer ones."
Tech : "How fast is your modem?"
Cust : "Not very. It just sits there. I've never seen it move."
Cust : "How do I print my voice mail?"
Tech : "I need you to boot the computer."
Cust : (THUMP! Pause.) "No. That didn't help."
Tech : "Do you have any Windows open right now?"
Cust : "Are you crazy? It's twenty below outside."
E-mail received : "By the way, what does BTW mean?"
A customer, although of no consequence, a blonde, walked into a Computer Center:

Cust : "I'm having problems with my Mac."
Tech : "What kind of Mac do you have?"
Cust : In an indignant voice, "Duh, Intosh!"
Thread on a message board on a website:

1st poster : "Any Hotmail experts willing to make a Harry Potter layout for my website?"
2nd poster : "Hotmail experts? Don't you mean HTML?"
1st poster : "Same thing isn't it?"
Cust : "I'd like to complain about the screensaver on my computer."
Tech : "What seems to be the problem?"
Cust : "It doesn't work."
Tech : "Ok. What's on your screen now?"
Cust : "Nothing. It's broken."
Tech : "Broken?"
Cust : "Yes. The screensaver didn't work."
Tech : "Of course it wouldn't work if your monitor screen is broken."
Cust : "Look! We had a break in at our house. They vandalized the place and smashed the screen with something."
Tech : "I'm sorry you were broken into, sir, but a screensaver won't work on a broken screen."
Cust : Angry now, "If the screensaver did what it's supposed to do, then my screen would not have broken. When they hit it, it didn't save my screen."

~~The above customer-tech exchanges and many, many more can be found at Rinkworks.

(~~The last piece about the screensaver is an original that I made up just for this post. I suppose it could have happened and maybe did happen, but I have never seen it or one like it.)


Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Butt, I Love You

No ands, ifs or butts about it, the butt is the butt of a lot of jokes!

Whether you prefer to call it a butt, the gluteus maximus, posterior, derriere, rear end, buns, bum, or ass, a butt by any other name is still a butt.

Our backsides are essential to our existence. We sit on them ... We lie on them ... We excrete waste from them ... We take them with us wherever we go. They are a prominent feature of our bodies. They come in all sizes and shapes. Men and women alike spend a lot of time looking at them.

Men are often placed in jeopardy when a woman asks if an article of clothing makes her ass look big. (The cartoon above is a clever satire of that tragic question.)

Of course, there are times when the subject of one's ass just might be taken out of context. A good example is the following:

Once upon a time, there was an old miner who was traveling through the desert with his trusty mule of many years. All of a sudden, the mule fell over dead. The old man buried his old friend and put up a cross as a grave marker. He wrote on the cross, "My Ass". Then he continued on his journey.

Years later a town grew nearby the grave. The road into town went right by the marker, so the town adopted the name out of respect for the dead mule. It had become somewhat of an historical site.

Then one day, a traveling salesman, who was lost, wondered into the old desert town, but didn't notice the marker. He saw a man on the street and stopped to get directions. The salesman asked, "Could you please tell me where I am?"

"Sure," replied the old man. "You're right on the edge of My Ass."

The salesman was puzzled by what the man said, so he decided to ask someone else. He thanked the man and continued to what appeared to be the downtown area. He saw another man walking down the street. He asked, "Please sir, could you please tell me where I am, I seem to be lost."

The old man promptly replied, "No problem young fella. You're right smack dab in the middle of My Ass!"

At this point the salesman decided that everyone in the little town was crazy and decided to leave. On the way out of town he spotted a seafood restaurant. He had become quite hungry, so he decided to get something to eat before traveling on to the next town.

The waitress walked over and asked, "What'll you have stranger?"

The man replied, "I think I'll have the crab platter."

The waitress replied, "I'm sorry sir, we're all out of crabs. My husband looked all over My Ass last night and didn't find but two and we ate them."
Men who like women's backsides refer to themselves as "assmen." They rate the female posterior based on their own preferences. They are "ass-perts."

Guys, (gals you can play along too) check out the following picture and rate it. Maybe you even have a guess as to whom the lovely shape belongs.

The above picture is a close up shot with a zoom lens. To see the identity and the rest of this beauty CLICK HERE.

How'd you do, fellas? Ladies?

One day, a blind man and his dog are walking down a street, they come to a busy intersection, and the dog, ignoring the high volume of traffic zooming by on the street, leads the blind man out into the thick of traffic. This is followed by the screech of tires and horns blaring as panicked drivers try desperately not to run the pair down.

The blind man and his dog finally reach the safety of the sidewalk on the other side of the street, and the blind man pulls a cookie out of his coat pocket, and offers it to the dog.

A passerby, having observed the near fatal incident, can't control his amazement and says to the blind man, "Why on earth are you rewarding your dog with a cookie? He nearly got you killed!"

The blind man turns partially in his direction and replies, "To find out where his head is, so I can kick his ass."
Last year the Greatest Ass Beauty Contest was held. To check out these great pics of the two runners-up and the winner CLICK HERE.

Finally, sometimes a common phrase like "a piece of ass" can take on a whole different meaning than what we might be thinking.
The Skin Graft

There was a married couple who were in a terrible accident. The woman's face was burned severely. The doctor told the husband they couldn't graft any skin from her body because she was so thin. The husband then donated some of his skin...

However, the only place suitable to the doctor was from his buttocks. The husband requested that no one be told of this, because after all this was a very delicate matter!

After the surgery was completed, everyone was astounded at the woman's new beauty. She looked more beautiful than she ever did before! All her friends and relatives just ranted and raved at her youthful beauty!

She was alone with her husband one day & she wanted to thank him for what he did. She said, "Dear, I just want to thank you for everything you did for me! There is no way I could ever repay you!!!

He replied, "Oh don't worry, Honey, I'll get plenty thanks enough every time your mother comes over and kisses you on your cheek!!"
Well, I think I should drag my tired butt off to bed. Good night!


Monday, March 24, 2008

Echoes of Eddie -13

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the thirteenth installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

"Aw ... come on, Steve." Eddie protested. "It's Saturday night. It's the best time to go up there."

"I can't. I told you on the phone that mom and dad went out and I have to watch David," Steve replied in dismay.

He was ready to punch his friend if he dared to say that demeaning word "babysitter." It was a label that no fourteen year old boy wanted placed on his reputation.

He had exhausted his attempts to get out of the duty with his parents earlier. Catherine, at nine was too young they had countered. Jack, sixteen, had just gotten his driver's license and was going out later with his friends. That left him.

Eddie was persistent, "Your brother Jack is still here. He's in his room. Why can't we go up there for just a little while and come back before he goes out?"

Steve considered his logic. Eddie was right, of course. He looked over at the clock on his desk. It was only six o'clock. Steve remembered that Jack told their parents he was meeting some friends down at the Burger Boy Foodorama at eight o'clock. They had two whole hours.

As he and Eddie tiptoed from his room he peeked into David's room. Steve smiled, his little brother was occupied with his T-Rex and Stegosaurus. He was maneuvering them into position for a battle to the death.

On their bikes it had taken them only ten minutes to reach the road that led to the top of the hill. What went on up there was a secret that everyone knew all about, but never mentioned. He and Eddie had overheard Jack and some of his friends call that spot "lovers lane," and as such they'd become very curious about the place. It wasn't until he had heard his mother talking to a neighbor about the weekend "submarine races" that took place up there, that he'd talked Eddie into checking it out to see what was really happening.

The first time they'd gone there, they saw a bunch boys and girls holding hands and kissing. To the two friends the sight was disgusting. They were girl haters through and through and they couldn't understand why the boys would want to be with girls and do what they were doing with them. That was until they heard giggling coming from the small pond that surrounded the cemetery.

They had crept as close as they could get without being seen or heard. What they saw that night changed everything they had held sacred. One of the girls was knee deep in the water ... and she was naked! He'd seen his sister Catherine without any clothes before, but she didn't look anything like that! Under a full moon there was nothing left to their imagination.

Then a boy stood up out of the water next to the girl. He was naked also. He had seen his brother Jack naked at home too, but he wasn't the same. It wasn't standing up and as big as the one on this boy. He didn't know if he should be looking or turning his eyes away.

He was mesmerized as the girl and the boy walked over to a tree and lie down in the grass together. Shortly, he was on top of her and he appeared to be doing pushups. It must have been hurting the girl, because she was moaning and crying out. The scene before them was not something that 14-year-old boys got to witness every day.

Eddie looked at him with a sheepish grin and Steve nodded. They were seeing that forbidden thing they heard so much about - sex! Just then he heard someone coming down the path in their direction. He motioned for Eddie to be still as the couple walked past them. He almost let out a loud gasp but managed to cup his hand over his mouth.

It was Jack ... with a girl! What he was he doing there? It wasn't eight o'clock yet. Then it hit him. Jack had lied to their parents. He'd have been in deep trouble if they knew he'd come up here.

He felt the sudden rush of blood from his head. David was home alone! If his parents came home early, he'd be in trouble too ... whipping trouble! With Eddie at his heels they ran down the hill as fast as their feet could carry them. He had to get back to the house, and in a hurry. So desperate their plight, neither noticed a small figure struggling up the path in the other direction not twenty yards from them.

Eddie kept on pedaling to his own house as Steve raced into the driveway. He had no way of knowing how his life was about to change forever. He didn't know what was waiting for him ...

His whole body shivered. He was cold, very cold. Steve opened his eyes and caught sight of something at the foot of the bed ... something blue and wraith-like. His eyes blurred from just waking up, he sat upright. His vision focused, he could see the blue curtains unfurled like a flag before the open window.

The voice sounded distant, "Steven, it's good you are getting some rest. You're going to need your strength and wits."

( to be continued.... Echoes of Eddie -14)


Sunday, March 23, 2008

Wanted: Easter Bunny (Reprise)

Happy Easter to One and All!

By popular demand, I've decided to dust off a post from my archives. The original post appeared in April of last year, and can be found HERE. When I say I'm reprising this post by popular demand, I am reacting to the traffic visiting my site. Since the 1st of March, that post has received 332 hits! Well, if that many visitors are reading it via search engines, I am going to make it easier for those who don't search for reading material.

An unfortunate accident has forced Hallmark Cards, to be considering shutting down its wholly owned subsidiary Easter, pending the hiring of a replacement Easter bunny.

Peter Cottontail, aka the Easter Bunny, has been diagnosed as having contracted "toe-main" poisoning. Cottontail, 35, and the father of 467 offspring, is expected to be sidelined for six months.

Frantic executives at Hallmark have been interviewing candidates for the last several weeks. While there have been many applicants, none to date have impressed the director of "Lepus Resources."

Roger Rabbit seemed to be interested in the job, but in the end bowed to the wishes of his wife Jessica. Disappointed with his decision, the CEO said that under the circumstances he would have probably done the same thing. Bugs Bunny was unavailable due to contractual arrangements with Warner Brothers.

Crusader Rabbit, an original Hannah-Barberra employee, was turned away over fears of an Easter Bunny hopping around some neighborhood wielding a jousting lance.

One Easter Bunny wannabe who showed promise with his cost effective method of producing brightly colored eggs, was finally rejected. Health officials were concerned about the edibility of his products. The thought of handling or eating eggs deposited along with fecal droppings would not be very appetizing to most people.

Some of those trying out for the position, just seemed to have no clue. This was in evidence when one displayed his prowess at the traditional egg hiding trials.
The applicant had dressed up as an Easter egg and was carrying a basket of chocolate bunnies to hide. The field coach said, "He'll never be accused of putting all of his eggs in one basket!"

Although he was not hired, there was one rabbit who raised a few eyebrows. Despite the fact they couldn't actually see him, they felt sorry for him as left the offices dejected. He had been out of work for quite sometime since he had starred with Jimmy Stewart in " Harvey. " Officials just couldn't see the value in a six-foot invisible Easter Bunny.

At one point there were some rabbits that had to be escorted off the premises by security. These included the killer rabbit that had terrorized then President Jimmy Carter and the killer rabbit which appeared in the film " Monty Python and the Holy Grail. "

Risking the possibility of damaging foreign relations with the island nation of Lilliput, the National Guard had to be called in when one applicant who had been rejected went postal on the grounds outside of Hallmark's headquarters.

While ultimately not hired to fill the opening of Easter Bunny, one particular rabbit impressed everyone with his unique method of delivery of his Easter treats.
Lepus Resources felt that a Trojan Bunny was not exactly what they needed.

During the interview process, a right-wing group staged a protest march against Hallmark and Easter. The group decried the powerful entities for limiting the job opening to only rabbits. Among the contingent, an Australian man demanded that a kangaroo, which by using its pouch would not need a basket, be hired to fill the position. "Stuff those kids with enough sweets and they'll never know the difference," he was yelling.

Prominent among the protesters were even a pair of rabbits who claimed that Hallmark and Easter were exploiting rabbits by using them in demeaning ways to fatten their coffers.
In an act that appalled even the other protesters, one rabbit and a chicken performed a sexual act near the entrance to the Hallmark building.

By the end of the day on the Wednesday before Easter, a limousine with a police escort pulled into the driveway. Out hopped Peter Cottontail, looking none the worse from his ordeal. He had made a complete recovery from the brutal assault, the facts of which had not been detailed by company officials.

The employees rejoiced and the accountants smiled greedily - Easter was saved! There was only one more reported incident, but it was discounted as a practical joke. Some joker had dumped a package of Peeps into the swimming pool.

The next day the headlines of one prominent newspaper read: " Who Peeped in the Pool ? "

For Some More Easter Laughs:

What happens when Easter becomes too much for the Easter Bunny? Read Easter Has Been Outsourced to find out.

Thought you knew all about the origins of Easter? There's always a story behind the story as you will learn if you read Easter: A Fractured History.


Saturday, March 22, 2008

Easter Has Been Outsourced

Diary: Easter Bunny
Saturday March 22, 2008

Dear Diary,

It was bound to happen some day. The handwriting is on the wall. I had to get with the times. I had to make some radical changes.

The checking account is just about drained. I'm spending more than I'm taking in. My credit is shot to hell! The bank is threatening to foreclose on the warren. The old lady is pregnant again! How much can an Easter Bunny take anyway?

The IRS is still investigating me about my windfall profits from last Easter. They are also challenging the 200 dependents I claimed on my 2007 tax return. The Supreme Court is after me for perjury during a Grand Jury hearing.

Congress has been inquiring about the telephone calls between myself and Monica Lewinsky. (Why did I keep those receipts from the tobacconist?) Someone leaked news that my name was found in the appointment book belonging to Ashley Alexandra Dupre. Roger caught me in bed with his wife Jessica and he wants to kick my ass.

My so-called friends and my personal trainer have testified that I have been using HGH and steroids. They have circumstantial evidence that I was distributing those illegal substances in my jelly beans. They found the e-mails addressed to me from Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens.

If all that isn't bad enough, I'm expected to get up at the ungodly hour of 4:30 tomorrow morning to hide decorated eggs for a bunch of snotty-nosed brats cute little boys and girls?

So it is with heavy heart that I have made this decision. I can see no other recourse but to outsource Easter this year. To get the best bang for my buck, I have hired illegal immigrants, mostly from Mexico, to handle the job of hiding the Easter eggs. At $0.005 cents an hour, I figure a couple of hundred of them should get the job done and I can realize enough of a profit to get the bank off my ass.


Roger Rabbit is auditioning for a commercial and will not be home all day tomorrow. I think it would be a nice touch if I delivered a basket of goodies to Jessica. That would be a nice tail tale on which to celebrate Easter.
A Happy Easter to all the kiddies and blog readers alike.


Friday, March 21, 2008

Easter - A Fractured History

The First IPO - The Selling of Easter

"Crucifixes! Get your Crucifixes here! Christ on a Cross! Crucifixes! Get your Crucifixes here!"
It was a good Friday. Business was good. At the foot of the hill in the shadow of three crosses, Mosche Goldberg was having a good day. He was only trying to make a living; all he wanted was to put bread, unleavened bread on the table.
How could he have known that he would not be the last to place commercial values on the holiest of Holy weekends? How could he have known that his business venture would, in time, place an imaginary rabbit on a pedestal higher even than He who would be called the Saviour?
Caesar Augustus Ragucci was in charge of the Roman soldiers who had carried out the execution of the Jewish Rabbi. He looked with disdain upon Mosche. He couldn't understand how the man could try to turn a prophet-profit on the death of the man they had once called the Messiah. Caesar was not one to overlook a financial opportunity of his own,however. He thus levied a tax on Mosche's sales.
Mosche looked upon the hill with equal disdain at Caesar. He saw the Rabbi's robe draped over the Roman's shoulder. Mosche had watched the Romans gambling for the clothing, high school class ring, and even the gold fillings from the teeth of the slain man. Caesar had taken three cards and had filled an inside straight to win the robe.
Caesar, fearing there would be unrest because of the crucifixion, decided it was time to take an overdue vacation. He had always wanted to see the exotic paradise called Easter Island. When he saw the enormous statues wearing pastel rabbit suits he was struck with a historic idea.
When he returned from his trip, he sat down and wrote a decree using a quill pen on some papyrus paper. While penning the document he made a few mistakes. He cursed and wished somebody would hurry up and invent a spellchecker for papyrus documents, or at least come up with an ink eraser.
Mosche was one of the first to read the decree when it was posted next to a large sign that read "Post No Bills." To him and his neighbors, it was good news and they rejoiced. The decree stated that there would be a holiday honoring the martyred Rabbi and it would be called Easter. The man would henceforth be known as the Easter Rabbi.
To his horror, Caesar later learned that he had not corrected all of the errors he'd made on the original document. He had inadvertently scribbled a letter "t" after 'Rabbi.' It was too late, the people had already adopted and embraced the "Easter Rabbit" as a symbol of honor for their beloved holy man. By the following year a man would be chosen to dress up in a rabbit costume and march through the streets carrying a basket of goodies to be distributed among the people.
Until his death years later, Caesar often wondered how different things might have been if the people had been honoring the Easter Rabbi as he had intended, instead of a silly rabbit. He visualized that the basket of goodies, which had evolved into colored eggs, jelly beans and gummy worms, would have been replaced with scriptures and promises of salvation and eternal life. The resemblance of that letter "t" to that of a cross was not lost on him.
Neither Caesar Augustus Ragucci nor Mosche Golberg would ever live to realize their two important contributions to world economy - the Easter Bunny and the commercialization of holidays for many a millennium to come. They could have not imagined that their legacies would live on long after they were gone. Ascendants of the Caesars would found hotels, casinos and even a chain of pizza shops. As for Mosche Goldberg, his family name would live on because of one in the distant future who would become a famous artist, cartoonist and inventor by the name of Rube.

(This has been a parody and in no way is intended to offend anyone of the Jewish or Christian faiths. It is intended only as a light-hearted, tongue-in-cheek observation of how the commercialization of Easter has in some part clouded the true meaning of that holy celebration: the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.)

Have a Happy Easter, everyone. I hope you don't have ...
a Bad Hare Day.


Thursday, March 20, 2008

E-mail Whale Tale

I got caught up in all the NCAA playoffs which started today. My bracket pool close at hand, I settled back in my recliner and watched some hoops. As a result of the basketball games, today's post is one of those thrilling masterpieces: The Old "Clear Out the E-mail Box" Post.

That She Blows!

Two whales, a male and a female, are swimming happily around in the ocean when they come upon a boat. On seeing the boat, the male says, "Hey, I've got a great idea! Let's swim up under that boat and blowout really hard through our blowholes!"

The female says, "Oh, I don't know..."

"Come on," the male begs, "it'll be fun. Come on...just this once!"

The female agrees and they swim up under the boat and blow out, capsizing the boat and sending hapless sailors into the briny blue.

As they are swimming away, the male says, "Wow, that was fun, wasn't it? Hey! I've got another idea! Let's swim back there and eat all the sailors!"

To which the female, exasperated, replies, "Look, I agreed to the blow job, but I'm not swallowing any seamen."


Jonah and the Whale

A little girl was talking to her teacher about whales. The teacher said it was physically impossible for a whale to swallow a human because even though it was a very large mammal its throat was very small.

The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale. Irritated, the teacher reiterated that a whale could not swallow a human and that it was physically impossible.

The little girl said, "When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah". The teacher asked, "What if Jonah went to hell?"

The little girl replied, "Then you can ask him."


Play Ball!

George and Laura Bush are at the Washington Nationals home opener. They are sitting in the first row, with the Secret Service people directly behind them. One of the Secret Service guys leans forward and whispers something to Dubya.

At first, the President stares at the guy, looks at Laura, looks back at the agent, and shakes his head "no". The agent then says, "Mr. President, it was a unanimous request of the entire team, from the owner of the team to the bat boy."

George hesitates... but then begins to change his mind when the agent tells him the fans would love it! He reminds Dubya of his sinking popularity numbers and a public appearance could help him. Bush shrugs his shoulders and says, "Oh-Kay! If that is what the people want."

" C'mere Laura, baby..." With that, he gets up, grabs his wife by her collar and the seat of her pants, lifts her up, and tosses her right over the wall onto the field. She lands face first into the dirt near first base. She gets up kicking, swearing and screaming, "George, you "!^$#@&!"

The crowd goes absolutely wild. Fans are jumping up and down, cheering, hooting and hollering, and high-fiving. Dubya is bowing, smiling and waving to the crowd.

He leans over to the agent and says, "How about that! I would have never believed how much everyone would enjoy that!"

Noticing the agent has gone totally pale, he asks what is wrong. The agent replies, "Sir, I said they want you to throw out the first Pitch .."


NCAA Bracket Pool Results

I'm off to a good start - so far! I have picked 14 winners out of a possible 16 games.

Tomorrow there will be another 16 games.

Good night!


Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Divine Secrets of the Yada-Yada Sisterhood

They say it takes a man with big ones to admit that he was wrong, especially when that admission casts doubt about his manhood.

Sometimes it takes a pair of large breasts for a man to admit that he's embarrassed, especially when he has been bagged staring at them.

Does it follow that it takes an honest and faithful man to admit that both of the preceding sentences are applicable to him, especially if he commits that admission to his blog for others to read?

Today I had one of those assignments that are less than desirable in my line of work. I had to report to the apartment of an elderly woman who had recently been sentenced to spend the rest of her life in a nursing home. I was to meet a relative of the woman at the apartment. That relative would be overseeing the process of packing the relics of the woman's life that were to be saved and the disposal of those things not wanted.

I have never met the woman who had lived there, and probably never will. For that reason alone, I cannot help but feel that I will in someway be violating her existence and legacy. I dare say that all of the baubles and trinkets, framed pictures, pretty dolls and whatnots, china and all the other souvenirs of her life, must have been very valuable and dear to her.

No, I don't consider assignments like this to be rewarding. I did take a little consolation in the fact that at least a relative would be making the decisions about the fate of the contents of that apartment. Bearing an 80-count box of large trash bags, I walked through the lobby of the building that houses many senior citizens as I made my way to the elevator.

I pressed the button for the fifth floor and held the door for two women wearing over-sized sunglasses to enter before the doors slid shut. The two of them appeared to be in their late 20s or early 30s I determined with a casual glance. I turned to them to offer a polite hello and to say 'good afternoon.'

Damn, if the trap hadn't been laid and I took the bait! ( Ladies, whether intentional or not you have the upper hand in situations such as this! ) The smallest of the women was wearing a loose baggy sweatshirt sans the arms and the rest of the shirt cut off to expose a bare midriff above a pair of tight low rider jeans. An equally bare breast presented itself when she raised her arm to brush a strand of hair from her face.

I quickly averted my eyes in the direction of the other woman. The cards were against me, the deck was truly stacked. ( Pardon the pun.) She was wearing a very tight blue tee shirt upon which was printed in large white letters: "Yes, They Are REAL!" They must have been double-D 38s! ( I was mentally comparing them to such assets I have seen before.) Unlike this woman, however, she would never venture out in public without a bra!

All of a sudden the elevator jolted to a halt! ( Those of you who are old enough will remember those cartoons with the song lyrics on the bottom of the screen and the little ball bouncing across the words to get you to sing along.) Need I really have to say that my eyes were following the bouncing....? I recovered quickly by turning my attention to the numbers above the elevator door. We had come to a stop between the third and fourth floors!

Seeing that there was no telephone box, I pressed the emergency call button without hesitation. One the girls spoke and said, "Damn! If I knew this was going to happen I would have brought some beer and some weed." She smiled and did she wink at me? The other girl laughed and said, "Hell yeah. We could be having a party." She looked at me and said, "You would party with us, wouldn't you?" She did wink and then she stretched her arms which of course made her "array" even more impressive.

I just smiled and tried to not excitedly nod my head like one of those bobble-head dolls. In a dream of fancy or if in a similar situation when I was much younger, I would have replied, "Hell yeah. Who needs beer and weed?" After about fifteen minutes it was getting more and more difficult to look at the floor, the walls, the door, or the floor numbers above.

The smaller girl started a conversation with her friend, "So how was your date with Tom last night?" The other said, "It was good. I don't think we got much more than an hour of sleep between us." I could feel their eyes on me but I found a screw on the wall and tried to keep my eyes fixed upon it. The first one said, "So tell me, is it true he's really hung?" The other laughed and answered, "Hell no! He was just ... normal like."

I tell you, it's not fair for a sixty-year-old man to be trapped on a elevator with two provocatively attired young women probably half his age talking loosely about a certain male appendage. My situation was starting to read like a dog-eared page in one of those adult bedside paperback books. In such a book, that small enclosed elevator car would have been turned into a steamy boudoir of tangled bodies. It wasn't going to happen in that reality-based elevator though.

The sweatshirt girl then said, "Do you think our silent friend there has more to offer?" I turned my head and I could feel my face flush red. Blue Shirt giggled, "Aw, you're embarrassed, aren't you?" Sweatshirt said, "Aw, we're sorry. We're just joking around. But I'll bet you do!" ( That's it, the knife is in my chest - keep twisting it!)

The next moment I was thinking about Jello and St. Nick's belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly when the elevator suddenly lurched. Yeah, I was looking at Blue Shirt and was following the bouncing "ball" again when the car bounced as it starting moving. Instead of continuing upward, the elevator began to descend.

When the door opened to the lobby I stepped out. One of the women said, "Aren't you going up?" I turned and and answered, "I'm going to grab a Coke from the vending machine first." Then I hurried across the lobby. The same voice called out, "You need a cold drink, don't you?"

Damn straight! I needed to cool off! I stepped outside of the building into the cold drizzling weather and lit up a cigarette. I think it was probably the first time I'd ever had the obligatory smoke after sexual innuendos! After the puffing on the cigarette and securing a can of Coke Classic I returned to the elevator.

Relaxed, I pondered my 'adventure' in the elevator earlier. I was able to grin and even chuckle a little about it. I had mixed thoughts too. I knew the two young women were teasing me. (Weren't they? ) Also, my ego felt somewhat boosted. Even though I had maintained my cool and had tried to act like a gentleman, I was a bit chagrined at myself for being visibly embarrassed. Did that embarrassment cast doubt about my manhood in their minds? Did I even care, and if so what did it matter?

I knocked on the door of apartment of 501. It was time to do what I was sent to that address to do in the first place. I'll bet I looked like I'd seen a ghost when the door swung open. There stood Blue Shirt and behind her was Sweatshirt! "You're Mike from the agency?" Blueshirt said. It was her turn to blush. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry about the way we acted." She extended her hand and said, "I'm Marianne, the daughter."

I shook her hand and said, "Glad to meet you, Marianne. The elevator ... don't worry about it." Sweatshirt approached and offered her hand and said, "I'm Joey. Marianne is my best friend." I shook her hand and said, "Joey?" Marianne spoke, "It's short for Josephine. She hates her name." They led me into the small three-room apartment. Boxes, piles of old newspapers and the old woman's belongings littered the floor and every available flat surface.

Blueshirt said, "We've been sorting mother's stuff for the last three days. The stuff here in the living room we are going to keep and pack in the boxes. Everything in the other two rooms is going to the dumpster out back. Joey and I will wrap and pack the boxes in here. Would you mind filling the trash bags in the other rooms?"

I agreed and headed for the back two rooms. She called out to me, "We're really sorry for our risque talk and suggestions earlier." I nodded and said, "No problem. We're all adults here. Feel free to talk to each other like you always do." I started to turn and as an afterthought I said, "Look, I'll admit I was a little embarrassed. Trapped on a elevator with two...attractive young women is the stuff dreams are made of for men, me included, but I'm old enough to be your father. It was fun, looking back on it." (Now why did I go there anyway?)

I was scheduled to be there for four hours with a possible two additional hours allotted for tomorrow if necessary. As I was throwing the woman's belongings into the trash bags my thoughts drifted away from carnal innuendos. Instead, my concentration turned to those objects that must have been valued treasures to the woman who had called that apartment home for the past ten years. I could only assume that the daughter had already gone through the soon to be trash I was bagging. I worked on the assumption that it was all dumpster-bound and of no apparent value to the former resident's family.

While I was working in my rooms I could not help but hear the constant chatter of the two women in the next room. While their conversations seem to return to suggestive sex-related topics for the most part, their talk ran the gamut from politics to sports to TV shows, movies and music and seemingly everything in between.

At one point Sweatshirt called to me, "Mike, it's getting awfully hot in here. I'm taking off my sweatshirt. Now don't you go peeking." I was going to ignore her but decided to play her game, "I won't peek. I'll just walk right in there." She laughed, "HA! HA!" I was getting bolder at that point, "Is it off yet?" There was no answer that time. I went back to work. Was she bluffing? Did she think I was bluffing? Then she called again, "Ooh, Mike. Marianne just took off her shirt too!"

Whether they had removed their shirts or not, I didn't know, but I was determined that if I needed to leave the back rooms I was going to announce the fact. They continued their chatter. After awhile their words were sounding like so much prattle. I began to hear "natter-natter," and strings of "yada-yada-yada-yada." I was glad too, I didn't need to hear anymore suggestions of removed articles of their clothing.

The four hours actually passed pretty fast. I had used nearly all of the trash bags I'd brought with me. I looked around and was relieved that I hadn't missed anything. Two rooms of the woman's life was stuffed into trash bags. All that was left was the furniture, which was to be picked up the next day by Marianne's brother and a friend of his with a truck.

I stood by my earlier vow to myself and shouted to the other room, "I'm finished in here. My four hours are up! I'm coming out there!" There was no answer so I made my announcement again. Finally Joey answered, "Okay."

I rounded the corner and turned two shades; first white in shock and then red. The two of them stood there - topless! I turned around and said, "Sorry. I warned you I was coming." Joey giggled and said, "And I said okay."

One of them tapped me on the shoulder and I almost hit the ceiling. When I didn't turn, Marianne walked around and stood in front of me. She was holding an envelope and it was strategically positioned between her breasts. I was still trying to turn my eyes away but then Joey was in my line of sight.

Joey was laughing, "If we were worried about you seeing our boobs we would have put our shirts back on. We wanted you to see them. We want you to look at them."

I shrugged my shoulders in voluntary defeat and gave my undivided attention to Marianne's very big boobs. I grinned and said, "Would you get that damned envelope out of the way? Your, obstructing the view." She giggled and placed it in my hand. "It's a little thank you for all the hard work and for being such a good sport."

Joey moved next to her and said, "Hey, I know her boobs are bigger. Look at mine too." I couldn't help but think that I had fallen asleep and I was dreaming. I think my grin was probably more of a leer when I said to Joey, "My goodness, they are beautiful just the same."

Marianne then said to me, "I want to apologize to you, Mike. Joey and I made a bet with each other." I was taken aback and said, "What do you mean - a bet? What kind of a bet?"

"Well," she said, "Joey and I were talking about how guys always look at women's boobs. They try to be sneaky so we won't know what they are doing. But we know. So we wondered what would happen if we went up to a man we didn't know and told him to stare at our boobs. We decided we would make it impossible for him not to look at them. I bet that the man would take advantage of the offer, obey the order and stare at them long and hard."

Joey joined in and said, "I said the man would be embarrassed and would try not to look at them. Sure, he would sneak glances but he would not be able to take a long look at them." She purposely wiggled her chest and said, "It looks like I won, Marianne. Mike tried to be a gentleman by looking away even though he wanted to look."

Marianne then wiggled her chest which set off a near perfect example of perpetual motion. "I knew who you were on the elevator. You had that box of trash bags under your arm. We weren't going to use you for the object of our bet at first. Then when the elevator got stuck we decided to tease you a bit to see how you would react. Our playful antics and how you reacted when the elevator stopped made us change our minds."

I shook my head, "The predictable pigs we men are, huh? I took your bait and swallowed it hook, line and sinker, didn't I?" Joey shook her head, "Yes, and we took advantage of you. I'm sorry."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses, which I only need for reading. "Well, I have to live up to my male reputation, don't I?" I think I caught them by surprise when I donned them and bent my head down to within inches of Marianne's chest. I looked at the left one and counted to ten and then repeated that with the right one. I then turned to Joey and repeated the process.

"Okay, I tried not looking at them and then I gave your boobs a long and close up look. If I may, I want to say 'thank you very much!'"

I swear, I caught a noticeable blush that came to both of their cheeks.

We shook hands and said our goodbyes. I left the building with mixed emotions. Who was the victim? Who was the perpetrator? You know, I think those roles shifted. At some point they were the perpetrators and I the victim. Then the roles were reversed and I became the perpetrator and they the victims.

Later I opened the envelope to find $50! That was some tip, especially when all things are considered. Was I tipped fifty bucks to be made a sucker of and to be exposed as a chauvinistic pig? Or ... Was I just rewarded for gazing upon some naked breasts, an action I would have taken for no compensation anyway?

Reader, you be the judge! Yada-Yada!

Believe it or not, the first thing I did when I got home was to hop in the shower - first with cold water! When I'm sleeping tonight, I doubt very much that it will be visions of sugarplums dancing in my head!


Tuesday, March 18, 2008

How To Beat A Speed Trap

Top this for a speeding ticket!

Two California Highway Patrol Officers were conducting speeding enforcement on I-15, just north of the Marine Corps Air Station at Miramar . One of the officers was using a hand held radar device to check speeding vehicles approaching the crest of a hill.

The officers were suddenly surprised when the radar gun began reading 300 miles per hour. The officer attempted to reset the radar gun, but it would not reset and then turned off.

Just then a deafening roar over the treetops revealed that the radar had in
fact locked on to a USMC F/A-18 Hornet which was engaged in a low flying exercise near the location.

Back at the CHP Headquarters the Patrol Captain fired off a complaint to the SMC Base Commander. The reply came back in true USMC style:

Thank you for your letter. We can now complete the file on this incident.

You may be interested to know that the tactical computer in the Hornet had
detected the presence of, and subsequently locked on to, your hostile radar
equipment and automatically sent a jamming signal back to it, which is why
it shut down.

Furthermore, an Air-to-Ground missile aboard the fully armed aircraft had
also automatically locked on to your equipment location.

Fortunately, the Marine Pilot flying the Hornet recognized the situation for
what it was, quickly responded to the missile system alert status and was
able to override the automated defense system before the missile was
launched to destroy the hostile radar position.

The pilot also suggests you cover your mouths when cussing at them, since
the video systems on these jets are very high tech. Sergeant Johnson, the
officer holding the radar gun, should get his dentist to check his left rear
molar. It appears the filling is loose. Also, the snap is broken on his

Thank you for your concern. Semper Fi.

(I received the above in my e-mail from my truck driving buddy. Thanks, Earl.)

It looks like a theme of police jokes is on the menu for today's post.

Nice Ride

On Christmas morning a cop on horseback is sitting at a traffic light, and next to him is a kid on his brand new bike. The cop says to the kid, "Nice bike you got there. Did Santa bring that to you?"

The kid says, "Yeah."

The cop says, "Well, next year tell Santa to put a tail-light on that bike." The cop then proceeds to issue the kid a $20.00 bicycle safety violation ticket.

The kid takes the ticket and before the cop rides off says, "By the way, that's a nice horse you got there. Did Santa bring that to you?"

Humoring the kid, the cop says, "Yeah, he sure did."

The kid says, "Well, next year tell Santa to put the dick underneath the horse, instead of on top."
Crowd Control

A rookie police officer was out for his first ride in a cruiser with an experienced partner. A call came in telling them to disperse some people who were loitering. The officers drove to the street and observed a small crowd standing on a corner.

The rookie rolled down his window and said, "Let's get off the corner people."

A few glances, but no one moved, so he barked again, "Let's get off that corner... NOW!"

Intimidated, the group of people began to leave, casting puzzled stares in his direction. Proud of his first official act, the young policeman turned to his partner and asked, "Well, how did I do?"

"Pretty good," chuckled the vet, "especially since this is a bus stop."
Body Parts

A policeman is on scene at a terrible accident - body parts everywhere. He is making his notes of where the pieces are and comes across a head.
He writes in his notebook: "Head on bullevard" and scratchs out his spelling error.
"Head on bouelevard" Nope, doesn't look right - scratch scratch.
"Head on boolevard..." dang it! Scratch scratch.
He looks around and sees that no one is looking at him as he kicks the head.
"Head on curb."
Ten Things NOT To Say When A Cop Pulls You Over

10. I can't reach my license unless you hold my beer.
-9. Hey, is that a 9mm? That's nothing compared to this 44 magnum.
-8. You must have been doing 125 to keep up with me.....good job.
-7. Sorry officer, I didn't realize my radar detector wasn't plugged in.
-6. I was going to be a cop, but I decided to finish high school instead.
-5. Wow, you look just like the guy in the picture on my girlfriends night stand.
-4. I thought you had to be in relatively good physical shape to be a police officer.
-3. Well, when I reached down to pick up my bag of crack, my gun fell off of my lap and got lodged between the brake and the gas pedal, forcing me to speed out of control.
-2. Is it true that people become cops because they are too dumb to work at McDonalds?
-1. I was just trying to keep up with traffic!


Monday, March 17, 2008

Echoes of Eddie - 12

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the twelfth installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

He handed the receiver back to Mrs. Nolan and uttered, "I'm sorry. I gotta go. My mother's being rushed to the hospital."

She followed him into the kitchen and patted him on the arm, "I'll pray for your mother, Steven. Mildred and I go back a long way."

He nodded in gratitude, "Thank you. I'll tell her you were thinking of her." When he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair the broken eye glasses fell from the pocket onto the floor by his feet.

"Eddie's glasses! You found Eddie's glasses!" she shrieked. She bent down and picked them up. "Where ever did you find them?"

"Uh ... I ... er ... found them outside ... over at the brook ... near the bridge," he lied not wanting to say where he'd really found them.

She held the glasses tight against her heart. "Eddie looked everywhere for them! You can't imagine how upset he was when he lost them." She hugged him hard and added, "He's going to be so happy they've been found."

Steve turned for the door, "Uh ... Yes, I'm sure he will be." He was shaking. He couldn't get away from there fast enough. The urgency of getting home for his mother was beginning to get lost in a sea of terrifying confusion. It was as if the entire populace of Soddy-Daisy was consumed by the existence of a ghost ... the ghost of Eddie Nolan!

He didn't remember throwing gravel and stirring up a cloud of dust as his tires thrust his car forward. He didn't remember hurtling much too fast across the rickety old bridge. He scarcely remembered pulling into the driveway of his mother's house five minutes later.

Indelible, however, would be the image of his mother's supine frail form strapped to a stretcher as it was hoisted into the back of an ambulance. He was numb, almost incoherent as Catherine rushed to his side. She sensed his state and steadied him as they walked to where Doc Andrews stood.

He extended his hand, "Steven, it's been a long time." He cleared his throat as if to acknowledge that it wasn't the time or place to exchange pleasantries. "I'm afraid your mother has slipped into a coma. Her heart is very weak."

Steve slipped from his sister's grasp and slumped onto the front stairs. Fighting back tears he muttered, "I ... should have been here."

Catherine sat down next to him and placed her arm around his neck. "You couldn't have known. There was nothing you could have done."

The paramedic nodded to Catherine. She looked at her brother and said, "Steve, I'm going with mama in the ambulance. Jack is on his way to hospital - he'll meet us there." He tried to get up but she shook her head to dissuade him. "No. You stay here. You're exhausted. You need sleep. Jack and I will take care of everything."

Steve nodded in concession. He was awfully tired. After the long drive from Pennsylvania he had barely slept at all at the motel the previous night. Then there'd been the accidents ... the deaths ... and the imagined spectre of Eddie. He grabbed hold of the railing and pulled himself erect.

"Steven," his sister called from the step of the ambulance, "I made the bed in your old bedroom. Get some sleep, please?"

He stood by the screen door and watched as the ambulance disappeared down the road. Driven by the need for rest, he headed to the back of the house. He paused for only a moment to look in the direction of his mother's vacant chair before opening the door to the narrow stairway that led to the upstairs bedrooms.

His hands on the door knob of the bedroom he chanced a glance at the door behind him. It was David's room. He struggled to swallow, finally exhaling to do so. The last time he'd seen his six-year old brother alive, he'd been sitting on the floor in that room playing with his plastic dinosaurs. If he'd only he'd gone in there and sat down and played with him ... he might still be alive. If only he'd been keeping an eye on his little brother like he was supposed to have been.

Behind the door at the end of the hall was his parent's bedroom. The night David had disappeared had been the last night his father had slept in there. The next morning, after nearly beating Steven half to death his father had stormed out of the house. It would be the last time he would see his father alive. If not for him, David and his father would not have died.

He tried in vain to suppress those memories that just the sight of the bedroom doors had resurrected. He entered his old room, but paid no attention to the artifacts of his past. He kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket on the desk in the corner. He fell, literally collapsing onto the bed. He did not bother to pull back the spread and blankets.

At first sleep was elusive until he finally managed to purge his mind of the memories of the past and of the recent tragic events. At some point between near sleep and deep REM sleep he thought he heard what he perceived to be a distant voice addressing him.
"Steven, it's good you are getting some rest. You're going to need your strength and wits ..."
The room was chilled by a cold draft. Something blue shimmered near the foot of the bed. Steve was lost in sleep.

(To be continued... Echoes of Eddie -13)