Thursday, February 24, 2011

Butterfly Dreams (49)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.
-(The Story begins HERE)-
Sensory Overload

Tightening my grip on President Addams' legs I paused at the base of the boarding stairs leading up into the plane. Something was reflecting light from the westerly setting sun. I averted my eyes from the glare and saw that Baxter too had noticed it.

"It must be a car. The driver is probably wondering what happened to the road," he opined.

"Curious," I mused, "that a road would end so close to the airport."

"Years ago the Air Force increased the length of the runway to handle the larger jets. They split the road and closed it off to keep traffic away from the base. Now motorists have to travel forty miles around to pick up the continuation of the old highway. That driver must have missed the detour sign."

At the top of the stairs and before entering the plane I asked, "By the way, what road is that?"

"It's the old Route 66," he answered.

Once we were inside the plane two airmen relieved us of the burden of Addams and led the still groggy man to a nearby seat. With the men attending to him Wingate joined them to check on the President's condition. Although I tried, I was unable to read the colonel's lips as he whispered something to the three men before him.

Susan, a neuro-headset resting on her head, was seated in front of one of several consoles along the starboard bulkhead. Next to her an airmen was manipulating several dials, probably an exercise to calibrate the sensitive equipment.

The forceful hand which shoved me in the direction of the consoles, also forced me into one of the swivel seats. Next to me I was joined by a grumbling Professor Jordan. When he turned his head my eyes followed his and together we studied David's face. The young man revealed a curious grin on his lips coupled with arched eyebrows before he motioned for us to don the headsets.

Earlier Brock's wink had indicated that he was up to something. Although I had not been apprised, I was compelled to accept David's facial movements as some kind of a signal. As such, I remained calm and did not react when I felt his fingers probing and then removing something from my back pocket.

On the plane, I thought, when Brock and I were trying to escape the tear gas, he had patted me on the backside. I realized that he must have slipped something into my pocket, something that David knew would be there! While impressed with their plans up to that point, I was becoming increasingly frustrated at not being in the loop.

I caught site of the object being palmed in his hand. With its USB-type plug and measuring about the size of a deck of cards, it resembled a large wifi connector. I scanned the console before me and sure enough, next to the headset connection was an identical device.

With his left hand reaching above my head for a row of switches he let the device slip from his right onto the console. Taking his cue, I jiggled the connected device until it came away in my hand. I slipped the original device under my arm and picked up the one David had placed in front of me. Before I could connect the substitute connector I froze, reacting to a commotion outside.

"Damn it, Faye," Brock O'Day growled as she shoved him through the door, "if we ever get out of this ..."

"Shut up, you big ape," she snapped at her angry husband. As luck would have it, my hand and the object it held was in her direct line of vision. He eyes remained fixed on me and she pointed in my direction even as she shouted, "Colonel Wingate!"

He spun around obviously irritated by the interruption and responded, "What is it, Mrs. O'Day?"

"Michael is tampering with the equipment! There! Look in his hand!" she cried.

"Damn!" David was quick to react, grabbing the connector from me and moving my arm aside to reveal the other one. "He was trying to switch the wireless module!"

"...And right under your nose!" Wingate snarled. "How could you be so careless?"

David stammered, "I ... I was cal ... calibrating the radio signal. It never occurred to me ... I didn't think he would have a duplicate ..."

I slumped back in the chair in defeat but gave no impression that David had been abetting me in any way. It had to appear that I was acting alone. Yet, I was puzzled by David's careless mistake.

Apparently alert but unsteady on his feet, Addams shuffled behind me and eyed the device in David's hand and the one on the console. "Mr. Black is not one to be underestimated," he muttered shaking his fist at the young man. He regained his composure and said, "I trust you know which is which?"

"Yes Sir, Mr. President, Sir," he replied with a nervous nod of his head. He handed the device he was holding to Addams, "This one is the duplicate. It is most fortunate that Mrs. O'Day saw him trying to connect it to the system and alerted us."

"Indeed it was," Addams said. He looked over at her and added, "Well done, my dear."

An 'aw shucks' flush tinted her cheeks, "Thank you, Mr. President."

The professor frowned at her before addressing Addams, "One minute you're going to shoot her and the next you're singing her praises?"

"My good Professor," he chuckled, "I assure you that I had no intention of shooting her, or anyone else for that matter. It was simply a matter of drawing out those not loyal to me or my cause. When it comes to our nation's security, I needed to know who I could and could not trust."

"Obviously you didn't trust your own security team," Baxter asserted.

The President eyed him with derision and grinned, "Oh, I trusted them, but those two were incompetent. They failed in New Hampshire. They failed me again at that university campus."

Baxter eyed Landers and Ferrara standing at the front of the cabin. "Who else could you trust but two corrupt FBI agents?" Ferrara sneered and took a step forward but stopped in his tracks when Addams raised his hand.

Addams laughed, "Corrupt is such a dirty word, Mr. Baxter. I prefer loyal." He twisted his head and looked up at the taller man. Just who are you loyal to anyway? To whom do you answer?"

"I am loyal to the United States of America. I answer to my country and Her flag!"

Enraged Addams threw the connector onto the deck by his feet. "Don't give me that patriotic crap! I'm your Commander-in-Chief and you answer to me!"

Baxter shook his head, "You sir, are not my Commander-in-Chief!"

Landers stepped forth and announced, "Mr. President, if I may, my partner and I have ways of getting people to talk."

"Bah, there's no time for that. Not now. Cuff him and the cop to one of the seats ... and keep your eyes on them."

Wingate picked up the device Addams had thrown to the deck, studied it for a moment and asked, "Just what are these things?"

David, having already connected the other device to its port, looked up and answered, "In the simplest terms, it's like a wireless transceiver. It has been programmed to the frequency of the transmitter that your men secured earlier."

Addams let out a throaty laugh, "When it is activated, an unsuspecting army will awaken. That army will be loyal to me and to me alone!"

"Operation Butterfly Blue..." I muttered.

Stunned by Addams' tirade Wingate asked, "...And what would happen if the wrong one of these things was used?"

David flashed a toothy smile and replied, "It would result in a sensory overload. It would effectively render all of the cranial implants inoperative ... forever."

Addams' jaw dropped and he cried, "How would you possibly know what would happen?" His eyes widened in terror and he screamed, "No! Stop him!"

David flipped a switch on the panel and backed away from the console. "It is done. You cannot stop it. It cannot be reversed."

Crazed to the brink of insanity Addams screamed, "Kill them! Kill them all!"

( To be continued

The Mind Squared )


Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Jokes R.F.D.

Marriage is like playing poker...In the beginning all you need are two hearts and a diamond...In the end, all you want is a club and a spade!- (Lifted from Cathy on FB)

Cletus is passing by Billy Bob's hay barn one day when, through a gap in the door, he sees Billy Bob doing a slow and sensual striptease in front of an old green John Deere.

Buttocks clenched, Billy Bob performs a slow pirouette and gently slides off first the right strap of his overalls, followed by the left.

He then hunches his shoulders forward and in a classic striptease
move, he lets his overalls fall down to his hips revealing a torn and
frayed plaid shirt.

Grabbing both sides of his shirt he rips it apart to reveal his stained
tee shirt underneath. With a final flourish he tears the tee shirt from
his body and hurls his baseball cap onto a pile of hay.

Having seen enough Cletus rushes in and says, "What the heck are you doing, Billy Bob?"

"Jeez, Cletus, ya scared the snot outta' me!" exclaims Billy Bob.
Then, obviously embarrassed, he says, "Me and the old lady been
having trouble lately in the bedroom department, and the therapist
suggested I do something sexy to a tractor."

"Darling," she whispered after they had finished making love, "Will you still make love like that to me after we're married?"
He considered this for a moment, and then replied, "I think so. I've always been especially fond of married women."

A farmer was selling his peaches door to door. He knocked on a door and a shapely 30-something woman dressed in a very sheer negligee answered the door. He raised his basket to show her the peaches and asked, "Would you like to buy some peaches?"

She pulled the top of the negligee to one side and asked, "Are they as firm as this?"

He nodded his head and said, "Yes ma'am," and a little tear ran from his eye.

Then she pulled the other side of her negligee off asking, "Are they nice and pink like this?"

The farmer said, "Yes," and another tear came from the other eye.

Then she unbuttoned the bottom of her negligee and asked, "Are they as fuzzy as this?"

He again said, "Yes," and broke down crying.

She asked, "Why on earth are you crying?"

Drying his eyes he replied, "The drought got my corn, the flood got my soy beans, a tornado leveled my barn, I voted for Obama and now I think I'm gonna get screwed out of my peaches....

A man was on trial for selling drugs, and a neighbor was called as a witness.
The defense attorney asked, “Did you ever get any cocaine or other drugs from the defendant?”
“No sir,” answered the man.
“Did you ever get any from his wife?”
“No sir.”
“Did you ever get any from his daughters?”
“Uh–excuse me sir,” the witness said, “but we’re still talking about drugs here, right?”

Air Force One crashed in the middle of rural America. Panic stricken the Secret Service mobilized and descended on the farm in force. When they got there, the wreckage was clear. The aircraft was totally destroyed with only a burned hulk left smoldering in a tree line that bordered a farm.

Secret Service descended upon the smoking hulk but could find no remains of the crew or the President's staff. To their amazement, a lone farmer was plowing a field not too far away as if nothing at all happened. They hurried over to surround the man's tractor.

"Sir," the senior Secret Service agent asked, panting and out of breath. "Did you see this terrible accident happen? "

"Yep. Sure did. " The man muttered unconcernedly.

"Do you realize that is the President of the United States airplane? "

"Yep. "

"Were there any survivors? " the agent gasped.

"Nope. They's all kilt straight out. " The farmer sighed cutting off his tractor motor. "I done buried them all myself. Took most of the morning. "

"The President of the United States is dead? " The agent gulped in disbelief.

"Well," the farmer sighed, obviously wanting to get back to his work. "He kept a-saying he wasn't . . . but you know what a liar he is. "

A farmer wrote to a giant mail order company and asked the price of their toilet paper.
The company wrote back and told him to look on page #287.
He wrote another letter back, "If I had your catalog, I wouldn't need your toilet paper."

A farmer and his brand new bride were riding home from the chapel in a wagon pulled by a team of horses, when the older horse stumbled.

The farmer said, "That's once."

A little further along, the poor old horse stumbled again.

The farmer said, "That's twice."

After a little, while the poor old horse stumbled again.
The farmer didn't say anything, but reached under the seat, pulled out a shotgun and shot the horse.

His brand new bride yelled, telling him, "That was an awful thing to do."

The farmer said, "That's once."


Friday, February 18, 2011

Butterfly Dreams (48)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.
-(The Story begins HERE)-
Synaptic Siege

Addams' eyes were wide, staring bewildered at the unfired implement in his hand. It slipped from his grasp, then he collapsed onto his knees.

A retort of two more shots reverberated throughout the confines of the small room. One struck in the forehead and the other in the chest, the President's two secret servicemen were dead before they hit the floor.

Clutching at his abdomen Addams gurgled something incomprehensible before rolling onto his side in a fetal position. His fingers twitched for several moments, a moan escaped his throat and then he lie unmoving.

Standing in the doorway, the barrels of their guns still smoking, Brock O'Day and Agents Landers and Ferrara surveyed the scene before them. They had each taken down one of the fallen men. The faces of the FBI men were without emotion, while unfettered rage showed on that of the police officer.

Horrified by the carnage David cried, "You shot him! You killed the President!"

Her body still paralyzed in the grip of fear for her own life, Faye's words tumbled from her trembling lips, "The son of a bitch was going to shoot me. He was going to shoot me!"

Brock crossed the room and looked down at her, disgust visible on his features. "Cool it, Faye. This is much bigger than you." After tucking his pistol between his belt and body, he pulled the woman to her feet and spun her around to face him. "It's about time that you got your priorities straight."

She looked over shoulder to see Baxter kneeling by the unmoving body of President Addams. It was obvious that her husband's words fell on deaf ears. "He was going to shoot me. Why?"

A sardonic grin formed shaped Brock's mouth, "You know, he just might have done me a favor."

"What?" she screeched backing away from him. "You bastard!" She was quick to regain her composure however, and raised high her chin. "He was going to appoint me to a position ... in the White House."

As I watched in silence the melodrama between the pair, it occurred to me that Faye was struggling within a delusional state of self-importance and reality. Having been married to her in my physical existence as Ben Bering I felt a slight but momentary twinge of pity for her.

As Ben I'd never been able to stand up to her, but as Michael Black I felt a liberated sense of empowerment. Arms folded across my chest I addressed her, "Faye, perhaps the position he was referring to was not the White House, but at a White Castle!"

"How dare you!" she snapped.

"People!" Jeremy Baxter shouted to gain our attention. "Why not let her get the truth from the horse's mouth?" He was holding something pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He approached Brock holding the object he'd removed from the President. Grinning he said, "Nice kill shot, Sergeant O'Day."

"You don't think I wanted to go down in history as the man who assassinated the President, do you? I just put him to sleep for a while." He tried to stifle a chuckle but could not, "Lord knows he's put a lot of people to sleep with some of his speeches."

"You're getting a lot of miles out of those tranquilizer darts, Brock," I noted. Both Landers and Ferrara were glaring at him, obviously remembering that they too had been targets of those same missiles.

O'Day patted my shoulder and said, "Thanks for playing along with our plan, Michael. I'm sure you must understand why we couldn't fill you in on the details."

I nodded and replied, "I do now. You knew that I was susceptible to their remote mind-tapping. They even tried to get at me through Susan." I turned to face Professor Jordan, "You really must explain this Persephone thing to me and this matter of ... drones!"

"Michael," Baxter interrupted, "That will have to wait. We haven't much time."

I glared at him and groaned, "There's something else you've neglected to tell me?"

"By now Wingate's men, the ones who jumped from the plane will have taken control of the main transmitter. Wingate has Susan connected to a neuro-headset on the plane ..."

Muttering Jordan hung his head, "That means Ben is also connected. He and Michelle must have walked in their trap too!"

"A trap? What trap?" I demanded. "It looks to me like we have the upper hand here."

"How's this for priorities?" Faye shouted. From the corner of my eye I caught sight of her foot slamming into Brock's groin. She stooped down by his writhing form and picked up his gun. Before any of us could make a move Landers and Ferrara swung their raised guns in our direction.

"It looks like Addams was one step ahead of us." Baxter said, "He's pulled it off like only a general could have."

Confused beyond belief I said, "But he's out of commission ... how?"

"I should have foreseen this," Jordan said mumbling to himself. "He had a fail safe contingency plan. Once he was cut off ..."

"Of course!" Baxter mused.

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" I pleaded.

"It's like this, Mr. Black," David said as he walked past me, "once the President was disconnected from the collective mind network, we knew we were to carry out his orders as if he'd given them directly and to proceed with Operation Butterfly Blue."

"You too, David?" I said crestfallen. "You've been working for Michelle and me ... we've shared our secrets with you ..." My voice trailed off the moment the words escaped my lips.

He grinned as if to acknowledge our past relationship and took up position next to Faye and the two agents. It was then that I noticed the eyes of each of them. David's eyes were lucid, while those of Faye and the agents appeared to be glazed over, almost lifeless like those of a doll.

"Baxter, Black, the two of you pick up the President and carry him out to the plane," Landers ordered with a menacing gesture of his pistol.

David shoved Jordan toward the door, "Move it, Professor, out to the plane."

Ferrara pointed to Brock who was sitting up on the floor cupping his groin and addressed Faye, "What about your husband? What do we do with him?"

"I'll take care of him," she answered. "If he gives me any trouble, I'll shoot him." Her hands on her hips she glared down at him. "I do have my priorities ... darling!"

At that moment Wingate stepped into the room. He studied the curious scene before him but showed no visible reaction. Instead, with his chin held high he announced, "We've found her and we've established a link. Rosie Gates is now connected to our neuro-net."

"Wonderful!" David said clapping his hands. "Now all we have to do is to get the headsets on Mr. Black and the professor. Then we can activate the network!"

With my hands clutching Addams' feet and Baxter's arms wrapped around his chest we shuffled past him. I looked him in the eyes and queried, "What happens then, David?"

"To put it simply, Michael, there is going to be one helluva synaptic siege. Today the country ... tomorrow the world!"

( To be continued

Sensory Overload )


Thursday, February 17, 2011

To Wit: Some Wit

"Pogo" comic strip by Walt Kelly
The following witticisms can be found all over the web, and some of them have probably appeared here also. My apologies if you've seen them before - and if you have, feel free to enjoy them again!

Always remember you're unique, just like everyone else.

The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT'S relativity. -- Albert Einstein

Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens.

When I hear somebody sigh "Life is hard" I'm always tempted to ask "Compared to what?"

The way some people find fault, you'd think there was some kind of reward.

Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy.

Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.

An expert is one who knows more and more about less and less until he knows absolutely everything about nothing.

Those who drink to drown their sorrows should be told that sorrows know how to swim.

The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.

Love isn't only blind, it's also deaf, dumb, and stupid.

If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

When bosses talk about improving productivity, they are never talking about themselves.

I doubt, therefore I might be.

You cannot achieve the impossible without attempting the absurd.

The gene pool could use a little chlorine.

Cole's Axiom: The sum of intelligence on the planet is a constant. The population is growing.

№ 2099

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


A month and a half of retirement has afforded me some time to practice a little omphaloskepsis. In other words, I've been contemplating the navel, after all, it is a figurative and spiritual focus for inward-looking people.

To be honest however, I've not been contemplating my navel, but rather that often exposed area of other people's anatomy. While I don't make it a habit of looking at other people's belly buttons, it is becoming increasingly difficult not to notice them.

What then evoked this post on this abdominal landmark, you might ask? You'd be right to ask because bare midriffs are by no means a recent phenomenon.

One would think that temperatures in the mid-twenties would mean that as much bare skin as possible would be covered with layers of clothing. Au contraire, mon ami.

Two young girls in their teens apparently thought that the frigid climate was ideal to display their omphalos. I'm guessing that they were proudly showing off the accessories that were perhaps just recently affixed to their bellies. That's just a guess, because the rest of their bodies, except for their faces, were protected from the elements.

I personally have no desire for my body to be punctured or otherwise mutilated, but as for those who do - it's their bodies! Bejeweled or not, what is it about the human navel that it both inspires and reviles?

As an indicator of birth, the navel is a reminder of our supposed infantile innocence. A severed link to the mother, the navel is the first mark that life leaves upon the body, a scar as unique as our fingerprint.

Since it serves no biological purpose after birth, the navel only acts as a gatherer of lint and a magnet for musings. So one who finds his or her spirituality in the center of his own body is dubbed an "omphalogian," and as a focal point of yoga poses, the navel marks the place where breath emerges, as well as the balancing point.

It should not be surprising that this all-too-human feature should be the object of scrutiny. A closer look reveals a deep history of the navel as one area of disputed terrain on the human body.

We need look no further than the 1960s when television programs were banned from showing the human navel. Both Barbara Eden of I Dream of Jeanie and Dawn Wells (Gilligan's Island) were forced to wear apparel that hid their belly buttons.

This cencorship, however, predates television. Through the centuries there has been much debate over whether Adam and Eve possessed belly buttons. As a result of such "navel" warfare, both Raphael and Michelangelo were accused of heresy for depicting Adam's navel in their paintings.

Eve Pregnant?
Of course, theologians and the faithful could not accept Adam or Eve with an umbilical remnant. That would suggest that instead of being created, they would have to have been born! According to the scriptures, God created man in his own image; if Adam had a navel, then would it follow that God had one also? Thus, any depiction or suggestion of belly buttons on the first man and woman was a threat to the teachings of the Church and could not be tolerated.

In the end, so as not to evoke the wrath of the Church, artists depicted the post-creation moment in Eden by using enlarged genital-covering fig leaves to include the belly rather than take the theologically risky stance of depicting an umbilical link between first man and woman and God.
What about the newly created trees that provided shade in the Garden of Eden? Would they have had rings?
Contemplation of the navel, or omphaloskepsis, is derived from the ancient Greek word for the navel, omphalos. For the ancient Greeks passion centered on the navel. Indeed, Omphale was the mythical queen who so powerfully personified femininity that she enslaved even the mighty Hercules.

In Hawaiian culture the navel is the primal node of heart, mind, and feelings. In India Brahma is said to have sprung out of the lotus that sprouts in the belly button of the sleeping Vishnu. Judaism associates fertility with the navel.

Halfway between the breast and genitalia, the navel is not strictly sexual, although it becomes a part of the sexual act. Even though it has no purpose but to indicate humanity, it should be remembered that where humanity treads, sexuality is never far behind.
Since You Were Afraid To Ask

Whether you end up with an "innie" or "outie" depends more on the nature of the muscles in your stomach than on your obstetrician's knotting prowess.
Sigmund Freud believed that an unraveling of a dream's meaning could be located at its navel: the place where the content of the dream connects with its psychic significance. And even Saint Thomas Aquinas recognized this doubled character of the belly button, seeing it as the "bodily metaphor for spiritual things."

For the next lesson in navel contemplation, we shall explore that citric fruit, the navel orange. The profound question must be asked:
Did the first orange actually have a navel?

Navel gazing must be considered the most profound of human activities.

(Portions of this post were lifted from several posts and articles on the web.)

№ 2098

Monday, February 14, 2011

An Arrow Thru the Heart

I don't understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine's Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon. - Anonymous

A Thoughtful Valentine's Day Gift

Johnny asked his friend, Tony, whether he had bought his wife anything for Valentine's Day.

"Yes," came the answer from Tony who was a bit of a chauvinist, "I've bought her a belt and a bag."

"That was very thoughtful of you," Johnny added, "I hope she appreciated the thought."

Tony smiled as he replied, "So do I, and hopefully the vacuum cleaner will work better now."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship for Valentine's day, ethnicity unimportant. I'm a very good kisser, and a girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cosy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. Kiss me the right way and watch me respond. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Kiss me and I'm yours. Call (405) 865-5675 and ask for Daisy.

Over 12,000 'Romeos' phoned and found themselves talking to the Memphis Humane Society about an 7-week old Labrador retriever dog.

Men are so easy....

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

A man, obviously drunk, staggered into a bar on Valentine's Day and, after staring for some time at the only woman seated there, walked up to her and gave her kiss in honor of Valentine's Day.

She jumped up and slapped him really hard. He immediately apologized and explained, "Look, I'm sorry. I thought you were my wife. You look exactly like her."

"Why you worthless, insufferable, wretched, no good drunk!" she screamed at the top of her voice.

"Funny," the drunk muttered, shaking his head, "you even sound exactly like her."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Paul went to the shopping mall this last week to buy Valentines' cards for his daughter and mother.

The 50 feet of displays for hundreds of cards astounded him. Paul muttered out loud, "I wonder if they have anything for ex-wives?"

The shopkeeper, behind the counter said, "Oh, yes sir, they do have an "ex" category, but they're in Sporting Goods."

"Really?" queried Paul.

"Yes sir. They're called darts."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Hallmark - Rejected Valentine Greetings

10. I admire your strength, I admire your spunk / But the thing I like best, is getting you drunk.

9. Our love will never become cold and hollow / Unless, one day, you refuse to swallow.

8. I bought this Valentine`s card at the store / In hopes that, later, you`d be my whore.

7. This feels so good, it feels so right / I just wish it wasn't $250 a night.

6. You're a woman of style, you're a woman of class / Especially when I'm spanking, your big-round-fat ass.

5. Before I met you, my heart was so famished / But now I'm fulfilled.. . SO MAKE ME A SANDWICH!!

4. Through all the things that came to pass / Our love has grown.. . but so's your ass.

3. You're a honey.. . and you're a cutie / I just wished you had J-Lo's "booty".

2. I don`t wanna be sappy or silly or corny / So, right to the point, let's do it, I'm horny!

1. If you think that hickey looks like a blister / You should check out the one that I gave to your sister!

♥ ♥ ♥ Happy Valentine's Day ♥ ♥ ♥


Sunday, February 13, 2011

No Sweat !

When I recently came across a blog with "crabbyoldfart" in its URL, I thought to myself that it merited some serious checking out. I was right!

He has written several posts that had me musing ... I wish I'd written that ...

It's the first blog in a while that I felt compelled to recommend for my readers to check out. If you remember and liked the postings of Old Hoss, Gene Maudlin, then you're going to enjoy the works of Donald Mills.

I'm using the site's title as a convenient link: The Problem With Young People Today Is ...

The following is a copy & paste of one of his recent posts. (I added a couple of pics and some boldface font, but otherwise it is as it appeared on his site. Enjoy.

Repost: Affronts to Old People – Sweatpants with Words on the Ass

by Donald Mills

(My apologies but I’ve been off my pegs this week and haven’t been able to muster the energy to write a new post.)

One of the most outrageous assaults young people have committed on common decency has to be the practice of having words written across the ass of their sweats pants.

I see it everywhere. Inane and distasteful words like “Angel”, “Princess” and “Hottie” printed across the prodigious backsides of young people. It’s moronic and indecent.

Just this morning I was confronted with the disturbing sight of a young woman with the word “bootylicious” scrawled across her derriere. I don’t know what the Hell it means but I stand by my assertion that if your ass is large enough to accommodate a twelve letter word it may not be a feature you wish to draw additional attention to.

I may not be able to stop this atrocious practice, but if it is going to continue I suggest any one of the following 10 words/phrases might be more appropriate to display on your young rumps:


That’s right. “Lazy.” If you don’t have the energy to pull on sensible trousers and do up a zipper for God’s sake, you may as well come clean about it and admit that you’re a shiftless, indolent lay-about. People may not respect your choice of apparel but they’ll appreciate your honesty damn it.


They likely had a hand in building that giant ass you’re so intent on decorating, so you may as well give them credit for a job well done. They may even give you a free “Whoppler” as their way of saying thanks.


The way I see it, this is damned practical and not unlike writing left and right on the shoes of dullards and toddlers. At least the word “back” serves a purpose and will help these young people get their pants on right side around. It’s a small thing but a step in the right direction.


You don’t need to understand why. In fact, its likely better that you don’t.

“Kick Me”

I’m all about motivation and my guess is that if you enjoy word-enhanced sweat pants you’re likely on an express train to nowhereville and would benefit from a good old fashioned kick in the ass.

“Have You Seen This Child?”

If you walk around in sweat pants all day you likely have parole conditions to fulfill and community service may be part of that equation. Here’s a chance for you to give something back and help people locate missing children. Milk cartons get stuck in the fridge but your giant ass seems to be everywhere so slap a picture of a missing kid on it and do some good for a change, damn it.

“My Other Ass Fits In Real Pants”

For no reason other than it makes me chuckle.

“The End is Nigh”

If there was ever a sign that the Four Horseman are mounting up and getting ready to ride it’s the preponderance of young people with the word “juicy” written on their backsides. You may as well get the word out that we are all going to Hell and that the bus is leaving soon.


Time for some truth in advertising, damn it. Plus, as an added bonus, it may dissuade other impressionable young people from heading down this ill-advised road, venturing over to “Target” and perusing the “fornicating teen department” for similar attire.

“This Space for Rent”

Look, if you’re going to parade around like a jiggling billboard you may as well try to generate some income from it. I’m sure there must be some gelatin companies or cottage cheese makers looking for cheap and easy advertising opportunities and your ass may be right up their alley.

I hope that these suggestions will be helpful to you young folks. The other option of course is just to start wearing sensible clothing and stop dressing like a dyslexic, bootylicious prostitute.

Damned young people. They make me crazy.


Friday, February 11, 2011

Butterfly Dreams (47)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.
-(The Story begins HERE)-
Executive Decision

I was no more surprised than the others when the President stepped into the room. Clad in jeans and a polo shirt Vincent T. Addams' attire was not exactly becoming of that of a world leader.

His eyes hidden by dark sunglasses beneath the bill of a baseball cap, it was obvious that he was traveling incognito and his presence was unofficial. Unlike most Presidential excursions, there would be no press coverage of this trip.

At first he gave little regard to us but spoke directly to the officer standing at unwavering attention by the door. "Colonel Wingate, have your men escort these two FBI agents out of here. They do not have the security clearance to hear anything that will be said here."

Agent Landers stepped forth, "Mr. President, we were assigned to investigate a possible threat to you. Why are we being held?"

His reply was terse, "There is no longer a threat. Your investigation is complete. You will meet with my security detachment to be debriefed."

"But, Mr. President," Ferrara protested, "we have not yet received orders from the director to shut down."

With an air of annoyed arrogance President Addams walked over to the agent and studied him for a moment. He then pressed the bill of his cap against the man's forehead and said, "I see that you are familiar with the concept of the chain of command, agent. You obviously answer to the Director of the FBI, James Saunders." He took a step backward and grinned, "Well, Saunders answers to me."

Realizing his exchange with the President was finished, he nodded and lowered his head in silent defeat. The two agents offered no resistance as a pair of armed airmen led them from the room.

Removing his opaque glasses he addressed those of us who remained, "You'll have to pardon the ... ah ... casual appearance, gentlemen. As for my unannounced arrival here at this base, it never happened. For the record, I'll be at Camp David for a few days of rest with a touch of the flu."

"So, Mr. President," Professor Jordan said with measured sarcasm, "is it safe for us to assume that we weren't here either ... for the record?"

Addams removed his cap and ran his fingers through his wavy hair. He ignored Jordan's query and glared at him. "Professor Jordan, I have to admit that I underestimated you. How is that Bishop King's lackey could cause me so much grief? Clever, very clever and, I might add, quite timely of you to move Rosie Gates when you did."

I spun around and faced the professor, "You? You were behind that?" Rage turning my face beet red I grabbed the lapels of his jacket, "Where is she? What did you do with her?"

"Back off, Mr. Black," Wingate said stepping between us and pushing me aside, "If he knew, he certainly wouldn't be telling you in the presence of me or the President."

Addams cleared his throat and grumbled, "What am I going to do with you, Jordan? You've really caused me one hell of a P.R. mess! The spin doctors will be working overtime to fix it."

"Good luck to them," Jordan grinned, "trying to explain to the public how the man who died trying to assassinate you is alive and well and is out there kidnapping people."

I was impressed how both men were able to verbally spar with one another and yet maintain their dual personae. While Jordan knew that the mind of the deceased Julius Gates occupied the mind of President Vincent Addams, I wondered if Gates suspected that the late Bishop King's mind had been supplanted into that of the professor.

"Resurrecting Ben Bering and his girl friend, Susan Parsons ..." Addams mused aloud, " never occurred to me that they might have had twin siblings. Yes, it was quite clever of you to unleash the Persephone drones."

"Drones?" I gasped. "Susan and Ben ... are drones?"

The President faced me and grinned, "Ah, Mr. Black! It would appear that King has kept you in the dark. He left you and your wife his company and his vast fortune, but not all of his secrets. Apparently in some matters, he chose to confide instead with the good professor here."

Jordan flashed a defiant grin, "I'd say that it was a good thing that he did just that!"

"That you would say, professor, that you would. However, I have at my disposal a few men who are quite adept at extracting information from those who are less than cooperative," Addams chortled.

"Unless I'm mistaken," asserted Baxter, who'd been quiet until that moment, "water boarding has been outlawed."

Addams spun around and pointed a finger at him, "You! You've been one god damned thorn in my side! Don't think for a minute that you're going to escape a very lengthy and intense interrogation session."

"Speaking of the interrogations, Mr. President," said Wingate, "shall I prepare the neuro-headsets now?"

"That's affirmative, Colonel," he replied. He looked Jordan in the eyes and added, "On your way out send my security team here and have them bring the O'Day woman."

"No!" Jordan barked. "Leave her out of this. She doesn't know anything."

"How quaint," Addams countered. "Your paternal instincts betray your gruff exterior. She doesn't know anything? My dear professor, she's in this up to her eyeballs."

"So, it's come to this," I said, "the President of the United States is going to give the order for the torture of a helpless woman?"

"Give the order? No, Mr. Black, that I'm going to handle myself," Addams responded flashing a toothy smile. "Let's just call it an executive decision."

The door swung open and Faye, her hands bound, stumbled into the room. Two men in dark suits with guns drawn marched in behind her. I arched my eyebrows as I gazed upon their faces. They were the same two men who had been pursuing myself and Michelle on the Northeastern University campus two days earlier.

"What's the meaning of this?" Faye screeched.

Addams waved an open hand at the nearest secret serviceman. Nodding the man placed his gun in his commander's hand and stepped aside. The President deftly cocked the weapon and raised it in the direction of the woman.

"It means, Mrs. O'Day, that it was you who leaked the information about Operation Butterfly Blue," Addams growled. "I am at a loss as to why would you tell Colonel Wingate where Rosie Gates was located and then turn around and reveal our plans to the professor."

"Rosie's my sister!" she whimpered. "I thought I could trust the colonel. He said he'd make sure she remained safe."

"Thinking never was one of your strong suits, Faye," he sniped.

The next sound was the thunderous crack of the pistol as his finger squeezed the trigger.

( To be continued

Synaptic Siege )


Tuesday, February 08, 2011

An App a Day Keeps the Priest Away

Bless me iPhone for I have sinned.

I'm not a Catholic, but I portray a husband married to one in real life. In that role I have found some of the Catholic Church's ways of doing things strange. Of course, that is because I wasn't brought up Catholic. I never converted, but honored my wife's wishes that our daughter be brought up in that faith.

This news has REALLY given me pause to vigorously scratch my head and say "what the ... heck?"

Said Patrick Leinen of the company Little iApps based in South bend Indiana, "Our desire is to invite Catholics to engage in their faith through digital technology. Taking to heart Pope Bendict XVI's message from last year's World Communications Address, our goal with this project is to offer a digital application that is truly 'new media at the service of the world.'"

Although it has been sanctioned by the Catholic Church in the United States, it is not designed to replace going to confession but to help Catholics through the act, which generally involves admitting sins to a priest in a confessional booth. They will still have to go a priest for absolution.

The Catholic Church has sanctioned an app that allows its faithful to confess their sins via iPhone! Interesting that the Church still admonishes birth control, but yet is willing to embrace a technology that would allow someone to be sitting on a bar stool and text a confession. Who would've ever thought that a pub could one day serve as a confessional booth?

I can almost visualize some man's possible text or tweeter confessions:
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I lusted for the cocktail waitress."

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have committed adultery with a girl I met at a bar.
Women would want to use this app too.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I picked up that stud bartender and slept with him last night."
I wonder, what kind of absolution would a priest give to those confessions? Forgive me, for I couldn't help this:
"Have two Bloody Marys and sin no more."
What other technology might the church accept next? Automated Confession Booths?

Well, how can I poke fun at a Confession iPhone app with out posting some "borrowed" Confessional jokes?

☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺

There was this catholic teenager who goes to confession, and after
confessing to having an affair with a teenage girl is told by the
priest that he cannot forgive this terrible sin if the boy doesn't
tell who the girl is.

The boy says "Aw father, I promised not to tell."

"Was it Mary Particia, the Butcher's daughter?"

"Come on father, no it wasn't and I wont tell."

"Was it Mary Elizabeth, the printer's daughter?"

"No, and I still won't tell."

"Was it Mary Francis, the baker's daughter?"

"No, it wasn't and I really can't tell you who."

"Well, son, I have no choice but to excommunicate you for six months."

The boy's friend meets him afterwards outside the church and asks him
how it went:

"Well, I got six months on the outside, but three good leads!"

☺ ☺ ☺ ☺ ☺

A drunken man staggers in to a Catholic church, sits down in a confession
box and says nothing.

The bewildered priest coughs to attract his attention, but still the man
says nothing.

The priest then knocks on the wall three times in a final attempt to get
the man to speak.

Finally, the drunk replies: "No use knockin' mate, there's no paper in
this one either."


Saturday, February 05, 2011

The Fishin' Hole

This is not one of those things that I didn't know but was afraid to ask. In my case, it's one of those things I didn't know, but never thought to ask.

Who was the whistler?

It's probably one of the most recognizable of TV theme songs. Thanks to syndicated reruns, the program has transcended the generations and continues to draw viewers.

Andy Griffith Show Theme Song

I decided to look it up to find the name of the person who was whistling during the opening credits of the program. That's when I learned for the first time that there were actually lyrics for the tune! Titled, The Fishin' Hole, the following video is a recording of Andy Griffith himself singing the song.

The Andy Griffith Show Theme Song Lyrics

The Fishin' Hole

Well, now, take down your fishin' pole and meet me at The Fishin' Hole,
We may not get a bite all day, but don't you rush away.

What a great place to rest your bones and mighty fine for skippin' stones,
You'll feel fresh as a lemonade, a-settin' in the shade.

Whether it's hot, whether it's cool, oh what a spot for whistlin' like a fool.

What a fine day to take a stroll and wander by The Fishin' Hole,
I can't think of a better way to pass the time o' day.

We'll have no need to call the roll when we get to The Fishin' Hole,
There'll be you, me, and Old Dog Trey, to doodle time away.

If we don't hook a perch or bass, we'll cool our toes in dewy grass,
Or else pull up a weed to chaw, and maybe set and jaw.

Hangin' around, takin' our ease, watchin' that hound a-scratchin' at his fleas.

Come on, take down your fishin' pole and meet me at The Fishin' Hole,
I can't think of a better way to pass the time o' day.

Music by Earle Hagen & Herbert W. Spencer
Words by Everett Sloane

While looking for the elusive name of the whistler, I found that are many avian characters out there who are quite adept at "covering" the tune.

So? Who was the whistler?

As it turns out, the identity of the whistler is indeed elusive. The majority of the sites I visited give credit to Earl Hagen, the composer of the music. According to one site, Mr. Hagen with his son snapping his fingers in the background came up with the whistling tune in a one-hour recording session.

There are references to two other possible whistlers, Fred Lowrey and Jerry Duane.

Lowrey, a recording artist, was the most successful whistler of the 40s and 50s. His whistling is heard in such recordings as "Indian Love Call" and "Tumbling Tumbleweeds." His credentials certainly make him worthy of consideration.

Duane, despite his claims as being the whistler, appears to be a red herring in this fact-finding exercise. He is cited as being known for whistling in Pepsi and Old Spice commercials.

So, I decided to look into the links for the Old Spice commercials. There, I found that Jean "Toots" Thilemans whistled for the fragrance product. There was no mention of Jerry Duane.

It seemed that "Toots" Thielemans had a lot of credits to his name. Scanning the article on this man ...

... Uh-oh!
He is the whistler of the theme of The Andy Griffith Show!!
By the way, and for the record, I learned all of these accurate facts without using Wikipedia.

So? Just who was the whistler?

To my way of thinking, I'm going to eliminate the least likely of the names - Jerry Duane. He strikes me as a man who is a very good whistler and who tries to get attention by claiming it is he who is heard on the TV show. Just my humble opinion.

I think also that I'll cross off the names of the two professional recording artists, Lowrey and Thielemans. Why? If either of these men were given credit, then they would be entitled to receive royalties. Even at a rate of pennies, that number times the number of times the program has run since it originally aired and the number of times it has aired in syndication ... would earn the artist quite a few Benjamins.

Now, if I was the song writer who would receive his own royalties, why not be credited as the artist also? Makes sense to me.

While I'm not generally given to let my imagination run wild, I don't think I want to rule out the bird! After all, what would Polly want? Crackers?

Hmmm ... It turns out that, conclusively, I'm no closer to the real identity of the whistler than I was when I started.

You know what? I'm think I'll just ... take down my fishin' pole and meet Andy at The Fishin' Hole.


Thursday, February 03, 2011

Butterfly Dreams (46)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.
-(The Story begins HERE)-
A Helluva Plan

Still coughing and all but blinded from the tear gas, I heard the cargo ramp being lowered in the back cabin. Just moments later Brock was helping me to my feet and guiding me to the rear of the plane.

His escape plan was flawed I knew. Wingate and his men would've heard the ramp being lowered and they would be waiting for us at its foot, but there was no way we could remain on the plane.

"Brock," I sputtered, "why didn't give up before? You could've spared us being gassed."

"You'll have to trust me," he replied with muffled voice. He patted my backside as if to tell me that he was in control of the situation.

I felt his hand pushing against my back. Caught off balance, I was suddenly stumbling out of control down the ramp toward he tarmac. Although I was staggering somehow I managed to stay on my feet when I came in contact with level ground.

There was a loud crack and the surface next to my foot exploded in a spray of gypsum fragments. As I feared, Wingate and his men had been waiting at the base of the ramp. I turned and raised my hands above my head.

"Colonel Wingate!" O'Day shouted. "Black is secured."

"Wh ... What are you doing?" I stammered. Although blurred my vision was beginning to return to normal. Through squinting eyes I could see Brock coming down the ramp. His drawn gun was in one hand while the other was pulling something from his head. It was a gas mask.

"Well done, O'Day!" Wingate declared as he stepped into view from around the side of the plane. "Lock him up with the others."

Brock's only response to my stunned glare was to wave his still smoking pistol in the direction of the nearby building. He showed a toothy grin and flashed a curious flutter in one eye. I couldn't help but wonder if it was a cursory wink intended for my eyes only, but I decided not to physically react to the gesture. I mimicked his grin and said, " A helluva plan!"

The Games People Play

When the door closed and locked behind me I studied the faces of my fellow prisoners. Although my vision was somewhat blurred I recognized Baxter, Professor Jordan, David, and the two FBI agents, Landers and Ferrara. Noticeably absent were Susan and Faye.

"The women?" I asked.

"I would gather that they were separated from us for reasons other than that of courtesy," Baxter responded.

"I'm sure," I nodded, "but it's those other reasons that are worrying me."

Landers approached me and waved his arms in the direction of the other detainees. "I'm getting nothing from these people. Perhaps you, Mr. Black, would care to tell me what in the hell is going on."

"Agent Landers, it's all about this," I said tapping my finger on my forehead. "It's all about the mind, the human mind. Control the mind, you control the man. Control the man and you control the world."

"I'm sick and tired of all this crap about mind control!" espoused an angry Ferrara. "It's time for the White House to step in and squash these people!"

Professor Jordan's sarcastic chuckle seemed to ruffle Ferrara's feathers even more. The hair on his neck bristling he shouted at the old man, "You think this is funny? Do think it's all a game?"

Folding his arms across his chest the professor replied sternly, "A very dangerous game, Agent Ferrara. Who do you think is rolling the dice, but Washington?" He fingered the corner of his mustache and looked at each of us in turn. "We, gentlemen, are merely pawns."

I regarded Ferrara for a moment and then turned my attention to his partner. "Landers, do you honestly think that Michelle and I are responsible for all of this ... this conspiracy?"

He shook his head, "Solely? No. But it hit the fan when the two of you sent that e-mail to that reporter Bering."

Perhaps to interrupt the tension in the room David launched himself into an unceremonious and off-key rendition of an old Joe South song. "Oh the games people play now ... ev'ry night and ev'ry day now ... never meaning what they say, yeah ... never saying what they mean." Realizing he had a less than enthralled audience he blushed and stammered, "S-sorry. It just came to me ... just how appropriate those lyrics are ... given our current predicament."

"Speaking of games," Ferrara growled, "just what kind of game is your buddy O'Day playing? He sure picked one helluva time to switch sides."

"Allow me to shed some light on that matter," Baxter interjected. "Brock O'Day once served with Wingate, under the command of General Julius Gates."

"We know all about his military service," interrupted Landers, "but that was in Vietnam over forty years ago. As my partner was hinting at, why has he waited until now to crawl back in bed with him?"

"Wingate and O'Day share a certain kinship. They're both soldiers, part of a brotherhood," Baxter replied. He studied their faces for a moment and continued, "I've seen your dossiers. You and Ferrara never served in the military and as such would not understand that bond. Wingate needed someone with whom he could relate and trust and that someone was O'Day."

"Wait a minute!" Ferrara snapped. "Brotherhood or not, that doesn't explain why O'Day would take up arms with the enemy."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," harrumphed Professor Jordan, "perhaps we'd be better served asking ourselves just who the enemy might be..."

"Indeed," Baxter asserted.

He faced me and I caught sight of the briefest flutter of his left eyelid. It was the same gesture I'd noticed from Brock out on the tarmac. Perhaps, I thought suppressing a grin, Brock's plan was a good one after all.

There was a sudden roar of engines somewhere outside. It was the unmistakable sound of a helicopter approaching the complex. From the proximity of the whining engines it was obvious that the craft was about to land next to the building in which we were imprisoned.

Beyond the locked door there arose a cacophony of excited activity replete with shouts and hurried footfalls. Wingate's voice could be heard above it all. The orders he was barking were interlaced with colorful obscenities. The chorused replies, obvious military affirmatives, were sharp and left little doubt of who was in charge.

The door swung open to reveal Colonel Wingate in his full dress uniform. Standing at stiff attention he bellowed, "Gentlemen, prepare to receive your Commander-in-Chief."

( To be continued

Executive Decision )


Wednesday, February 02, 2011

Punxsutawney Phil Says Early Spring

Nuff said !