Ghost Writers In The Sky

When I think of ghost writers, I think of some nondescript person who just had their 15 minutes of fame. That person is usually not he sharpest knife in the drawer. More than likely he/she cannot put more than five words together to form an intelligent sentence, which by the way contains no words of three or more syllables. That is where the ghost writer comes in.

I have come to the conclusion that unemployed ghost writers work as temps and fill those positions bearing such titles as "Technical Advisor" or "Technical Support Associate." I do believe I just recently received help from one of these "techs."

I had just finished deleting and marking mail as spam in my AOL mail box. After those 278 items were zapped, I was about to read the onerous list of 5 legitimate e-mails from my two sisters and my daughter. When all of a sudden a screen-filling pop-up filled the screen. It was an oficial-looking AOL message. It read in a manner to make me think that their techs behind the scenes had detected an unusual amount of deletions from my AOL mail box. As a service and in order to provide a secure environment for my private mail, they were reinstating those deletions and would remove what appeared to be an erroneous spam tag.

Talk about efficient, I didn't even even have time to close the window because it disappeared from my screen. As the message had said, there I was, the proud recipient of 283 pieces of mail in the new mail file. I refreshed the page and what do I see? Another pop-up window, this one telling me there was another 174 messages that been deleted in error three days earlier. Do I have to tell you, or did you guess already? Poof! I now had 457 pieces of new mail.

Sometimes when we are angry we say and do things we would not normally do. Actually trying to call Technical Support is one of those things. After listening to a medley of Yani and Zamfir hits and about 15 interruptions of a recording telling me how much they value me as a satisfied customer, a live human voice identifying herself as Michelle spoke, "America On Line Assistance, how may I help you?" I hoped she could I answered. But when I relayed my predicament, the angel turned out to be quite the opposite. "Oh, we at AOL would never do such a thing. You must be having trouble with your servor," she pontificated. Before I could protest she said, "Have a nice day. Thank you for calling AOL On Line Assistance," and with that she broke the connection.

I really must buy an updated edition of American Dictionary of Slang because in the following few minutes I used up all the those kinds of words I knew. To make a short story longer, I proceeded to once again to tackle my e-mail.

I wonder, when the need for ghost writers picks up, which Michelle gets to write for the "Runaway Bride," or Michael Jackson's victims, I mean accusers? Devil or angel? (Sounds like a good song title.)

No.310

Perils of Prolificacy

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Sometimes I write what I think is a pretty good piece. Pretty good to me refers to humor. I like to think that humor is my niche. But sometimes, he who laughs last didn't get he joke! It is then that the joke appears to be on me. (Tough crowd in here last night!) If all the world is a stage, it must then hold true that tomatoes grow abundantly in front of it.

It's the old virtuous battle of quantity vs. quality. It's prolificacy vs. proficiency.

My last two postings seem to illustrate that battle. Being prolific, one would think, gives me the ability to exhibit a wider range of material as well as more of it. Is this ambiguity working against me? If I write more, don't I have a better chance of catching lightning in a bottle? Or will it come up ambsaces? If I am indeed writing too much it would follow that there is too much to read.

My posting of "A Taste of Honey," was one of those pieces that I thought was quite good. I was looking forward to reading the comments. I had anticipated some readers "being had" until the last few lines. At first, I was going to open with a warning prolegomenon in the form of a disclaimer. "Reader, don't stop reading. Read on, everything is not always what it appears to be." Way back in February I posted "Affair Remembered," No.38, which began with such a prologue. As was the case back then, I was afraid it would spoil the surprise.

After "A Taste of Honey" was posted I noticed that my visit counter was about to hit 4000. That prompted me to rush up the posting "Pete, Ty And Me." It was a combination of a pat on the back and a thank you to those visitors. It because of that posting after "Taste" that inspired this current posting. I am beginning to think that a lot of readers land on the most recent post and then move on. If all I have to write about is self-edification, why should a visitor surf through my site? He/she could easily think that the final post was an indication of anything else posted previously.

I was convinced that "A Taste of Honey" was not being read at all. The one I wanted to be read, the one I was anxious to read the comments, the one I thought was pretty good, why it was skipped completely!

But along comes Old Hoss, like the Calvary, to the rescue. He had read it but made his comment on the last posting. As everyone knows, his comments can be and often are an extension of his postings and are quite funny.

I just have to resign myself to the fact that not everyone leaves comments whether they like what they read or not. I myself do not always leave a comment on every blog I visit. But if I enjoyed what I read, I make it a point to let the author know.
I'll just have to be proliferous and proficient at the same time.

No. 309

Pete, Ty and Me

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Pete Rose and Ty Cobb - are the only two men in baseball to collect 4000 hits. Well move over boys!

You have company! The Pointmeister might not have played baseball, but it didn't stop him from getting hits.

Pete, you gambled and lost. Ty, you stole and got away with it! I Blogged and got lucky.

But my hits will keep coming, guys.

I'd be remiss if I didn't credit the real stars, you the visitors! Thank you. Mucho Gracias! Mercy Beau Cups!

No.308

A Taste of Honey

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She marveled in anticipation as she prepared to remove that which enclosed it. She had already been fondling it, running her fingers up and down its length. Clad as it was, it still filled her with excitement. Experience, however, had taught her that only a brief moment of teasing could be tolerated.
...She hastily tore at its confines and reaching inside hungrily pulled it out. Exposed, she sighed in near ecstasy as she ran her eyes along the length of its rigid shaft-like form. To her it had always reminded her of a piece of field artillery. Her tongue gently, sensually began to travel across her lips. To her glee she saw that at its tip dew-like droplets had formed.
....She could wait no longer. Her lips closed slightly and slid easily onto it. She lingered at the tip, her tongue rapidly flicking there. Suddenly she drew it in deeper. In one delightful moment it disappeared into the depths of her mouth. She was rewarded with the release of its juices. She slowly began to move back and forth, the force of the suction enough to draw forth the excess juices.
....There was a gentle popping sound as it emerged from between her lips. Its entire length glistened from the tender caresses her tongue had been supplying. She was shifting it in her hand, moving it so that she could view it from all angles. Why was this glorious cannon ever hidden from view? It was created to be kissed, licked and suckled. Her only disappointment in life was that she couldn't savor all of them.
....Was she being too promiscuous for one her age? It was not something she dared to dwell on. If so, so be it. Morning, noon or night, any time one of these majestic shafts of pleasure was available, she was going to pay homage to it. The juiciness and the wonderful taste of them was too irresistible for her to ignore. She giggled at the thought of a line of them as far as she could see, bared and standing proud anticipating her lips upon them.
....She was going down on it again, alternating between rapid frantic thrusts and slow but long draws upon it. While it was still rigid, she could sense that it was becoming softer and that the sweetness of the juices was abating.
....Before this day she had only suckled one at a time. Today was different, for today she was going to have seconds. She leaned back and propped herself on her elbows. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She had never been so contented. Her yawn was not so much an expression of boredom, but more of an attempt to stretch the muscles that would be employed again in a few moments.
....She was pulling he other one out into the open air. She grinned impishly as she noted it was already glistening. It was beginning to ooze its juices before she had even inserted it into her waiting mouth. How marvelous, she thought that they came in pairs. They were twins. How lucky she was that she could have them both, one after the other.
....In all of her six years, she had never dreamed that her mother would allow her to perform these acts. She was going into the first grade soon and she wondered if the other little girls had experienced this pleasure.
....The second one was just as delicious and satisfying as the first had been. She giggled as she opened her lips to take in the other half of the Popsicle.
....She heard giggles on the other side of her mother's bedroom door. It sure sounded like daddy was sharing his Popsicle with mommy.

No.307

Name That Personality

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In Karyn's posting of 8/20/05, Blog Analysis, she asks of us "What's your blogging personality?" I sat back and gave it some thought and decided that it was a much too difficult question to answer without some serious forethought.

My original approach to this blogging thing was clouded in anonymity by first creating a pseudonym - Hale McKay. The information that I provided for the profile was entered only in the required fields. My age, real name and hometown were omitted. Later on this was fixed because I realized that I wasn't ashamed of my age, name or background.

In the end though, I may have made myself a little more enigmatic than I had originally intended. For I ended up with not one, not two, but three distinct identities. (Makes note to self: This is not the right time for Cybil jokes.) It is all three of those personalities that reflect "the me." There is, of course, my real name Mike, my pen name of Hale McKay, and bringing up the rear is The Pointmeister.

Mike is the brains of the triumvirate, the weaver of the ideas. It is his daily observations that become the fodder for a potential blog. The Pointmeister is the one who injects the humor, satire and or irony into Mike's experiences and memories. Hale then stirs the batter provided by Mike and the flavoring that The Pointmeister adds to the mixture. It is Hale who who bakes the concoction and sets the table with the feast for the guests to digest.

Neither praise nor criticism can be or should be doled out to the entity that sits before the keyboard. That is but the shell that houses "the me." If you don't like, are offended, or disagree with a particular posting, it is The Pointmeister you should chastise. Now if it is mundane, not well written, or not structured properly, you can blame Hale. Lastly, if you are brought to a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh or a ROFLMAO, it is Mike you should lay the praise upon! But please, don't applaud. Throw money!

In summary, I guess you could say that my blogging personality is the amalgamation of the three. Mike is the Depository. Hale is the Librarian. Alas, that makes The Pointmeister the Suppository.

(Here's a factoid that can be filed under: "I did not know that!" Impress your friends with this amazing fact. Did you know that bell peppers contain more Vitamin C than oranges? Well, now you know.) -The Pointmeister

No.306

Out Damn Spam!

I happen to like Spam. Alas, I have to qualify that statement. I like Spiced Ham. I hate e-mail spam. I loathe comment spam!

I'm just a blogger (Little Ol' Blogger Me) like so many others out there. Blogging relaxes me and gives me a chance to express in some measure, some the creative juices that have been sloshing around in my cranial cavity for decades. I resigned myself years ago to the fact that my poetry will never get me nominated for Poet Lauriet. I don't think I ever came close to convincing myself that I would someday write the "Great American Novel." To date neither have Spielberg nor Bogdonavich approached me for the movie rights to anything I have penned.

I ran a search (using Yahoo search) and on the first screen of the results out of ten, only one was in reference to the Hormel product. All nine of the rest were concerned with electronic spam. All of the Hormel Spam products pictures here came from the Official Spam site.

When the brand name of a product becomes more widely known as a coined phrase than for the product itself, I think it is safe to say that there is a problem. Did the pencil-necked geek who chose to give the name "spam" to electronic intrusion, ever eat the product? If so, he must have not liked it. He could have chosen "weed," but he didn't want to insult pot smokers? Was he afraid there might be a "Friends of Poison Ivy" association out there? Here's one he could haved picked: "Geek."

Suppose theater lovers stayed away in droves if they thought that "Monty Python's Spamalot" was about computer spam. When that geek coined spam as the moniker for this malady, was his little heart beating in triumph under his pocket protector?
...."Hey, Eugene. I've got it! We can call it spam!" He calls out to his acne faced friend with the coke-bottle-bottom glasses and polka-dot bow tie. Why I don't know, but the two of them confirm the discovery with a calculator and slide rule.
...."Boys, it's almost time for bed. Take out the trash, put out the cat and get ready for bed," yells Montague's mother from downstairs.
....Suppose they had chosen "weed" as the sobriquet instead. "Hey, Eugene. I've some weed." Mother, hearing the conversation thinks her son is getting garbage on his computer, goes about her housework and dismisses it. Meanwhile, Eugene and Monty are sharing tokes and getting stoned out of their skulls. Had they chose "weed," the sixties may have lasted longer. And the aroma? "Oh, the smell, Mom? That's my computer. It's been clocking a lot lately."

Now I ask you, does computer spam have a recipe book? I doubt it! Can you fry it? Bake it? Broil it? Can you grill it? And of course, can you eat it?

In any event, I have been forced to change my comments settings on my site as many of you have. I don't like it. I thought the idea was to encourage the readers to leave comments and not to do drive-by-readings.

Had they had computers back then Willie Shakes would have wrote it this way: "Out Damn Spam!" "Or Something is rotten in Spam-mark." "Spam, Spam. My Kingdom for Spam." "To Spam or not to Spam. That is the question."

No.305

door hangers

New products for your kids away at college. They are made especially for the discriminating student. Placing these door hangers on their doors, you can feel good about their study habits!

The last thing a college student needs is distractions!

No.304

The Gift of Giving

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For this posting I thought I would take some time to give something to some of my blogger friends. In such an open forum as this, there will be witnesses and posting dates and times. Why are those important? Well, after today they won't be able to ask what have you done for me lately? (Not that they would anyway.)

For Scnoodlepooh: I give you - oodles of schnoodles


For Aral: I give you-
Pluto Pez
















For John: A classic Limerick

A fly and a flea in a flue
They were trapped, what could they do?
Let us fly said the flea
Said the fly let us flee
So they flew thru a flaw in the flue.



For Karyn: Nice Boobs - A hint to revisit that subject on Sex Fridays!







For Hoss: A thank you Diploma for some great Bl**ging.

Another Karyn: For you to consider:

No.303

Candy Store Chronicles

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When his eyes are wide in wonderment, when he is wearing an ear-to-ear grin, and when she can detect the smallest trickles of of saliva at the corners of his mouth, those are the times that he is most content. For his woman those are signs seen only a few other times. She has seen that look when she prepares his favorite meals and desserts. The only other times he wears such a look is when she is wearing little or nothing.
....She can understand the pleasure and joy that he displays when she prepares those special meals. She is pleased that her body pleases him. Yet, she can only feel pangs of jealousy when she sees him in such a state of euphoria outside of the house. He is in an almost drug-like trance as she falls behind his wake as they enter the store.
....She has turned her man loose in a hardware store! Only in the tool department of Sears had she ever seen him in this state. She is thankful that in public she is wearing clothing, certain that the animal in him would throw caution, modesty and decency to the wind. Here, in this Mecca she is but an afterthought as he disappears down one aisle only to emerge from another several yards away.
....They were there because they needed a new toilet seat. No sooner she had mentioned that need, that she was reminded of the cartoon character, the Tasmanian devil. So swift, so frenzied was his movements that he was finishing dressing at the same moment he turned the ignition key in his vehicle in the driveway.

He is like a little kid prancing and it looks like he is actually skipping through the aisles! He reminds her a young boy pressing his face against the glass of the display case in a candy store. That $5 off coupon he is clutching is not unlike the $1 bill clinched in that kid's fist while his other hand traces a path over the gold mine of confectionery delights. He is older now and it is a different kind of candy that excites him now.

She has already given up any thought that the coupon might be applied to the purchase of the toilet seat. She didn't have the heart to deny him his moments of treasure hunting. Besides, when they paid for the seat and whatever treasure he chose, they would be on the same sales slip. The $5 would come off the total purchase in the end. She might as well let him think that it was his item that was responsible for their savings. Why not?

When he was a kid he had once been faced with the cruelest of dilemmas. It was a difficult decision for a kid to make. Like a pirate's booty spread before him, each nugget gleamed and sparkled. Should he choose quality and spend his dollar bill on his favorite morsels? Or should he go the bulk route instead and score big in quantity. Ultimately he chose the the bigger haul. He knew that despite the fact that if was his dollar bill, he would be made to share.
....In his youth, growing up in the fifties, one dollar would buy a helluva lot of bulk candy! They no longer called it penny candy, indeed there is nothing you can buy for a penny these days. The price of one candy bar today would have garnered fifteen of them back then and they would have been larger.

She is surprised when next she sees him. She is stunned to see him approaching carrying a toilet seat. Was there nothing he wanted to buy? No tools? No nuts, bolts, screws or nails? Were there no frivolous gadgets like a screwdriver with a built-in AM-FM radio?
....Then he says, "It's a good thing we had this coupon when we needed a new toilet seat, huh?"
....She can only nod in silence. She begins to feel guilty, but she couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. Of course, if he is up to something, he wouldn't give it away. She is left to puzzle over his ulterior motives. Could it be that he is sincere? Maybe he deserves some credit. Maybe he has earned a nice supper. And maybe later she would....?

Can it be that our hero is in for a good night? Can it be that he is still that kid in the candy store? Will there be Southern fried chicken with mashed potatoes topped with a light brown milk and flour gravy? He smiles as if his face were pressed against the glass in that candy store. Maybe, just maybe she will make some home-made biscuits too.

Will she be in an amorous mood tonight? But then again, why is she being so generous today? What's she up to? What does she want?

No.302

Cyber Doggerel

Every Dog Has Its DayScooby Dooby Doo

Practice makes Perfect

There's no need to fear, Underdog's here!

All In The Family

Puppy Love

It goes to show you...You never know who's on the other side of those chat rooms conversations.

It Takes Two...

No. 301

Fetching Shower

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My wife awoke me Sunday morning because it was a big day.

...."After your coffee," she said, "You need to get out of those clothes, take a shower and get ready for Gretchen's shower."

As I was finishing my coffee I could hear the shower running. Dressed in my flip-flops and a grin, I went into the bathroom. I could see her through the semi-transparent shower curtain. I was thinking of just the two of us in the shower. Close to each other. Lathering each other.

It just so happens that for moments like that, man comes equipped with a handy built-in soap-on-a-rope holder. Fetching showers are fun! Under the shower spray we cheerfully go about fetching this, fetching that, or fetching one of those.

The conversation is light, sensual in nature and about he subject(s) at hand. "Why, yes. I am glad to see you. All of you. Why do you ask?" Hmm, talk about grabbing the bull by the horn! It's kind of hard to do your own thing without bumping into each others' things. But then again - who was being careful? I made a mental note to myself to remember to give the hostess a generous tip!

Suddenly the lathering and fetching came to an end! She protested, "No. No, not a fetching shower!" She was adamant and added, "We have to get ready for a wedding shower. Gretchen's shower!"

It was the antithesis of an epiphany. Not only were my spirits dashed, they came crashing down! The final blow - the soap-on-a-rope falling onto the floor. The holder was pointing to where it fell.

Sometimes we hear what we want to hear.

No.300

What's On The Hoss Channel?

The latest buzz around the blogosphere is the new cable offering, Old Hoss Channel. It's much ballyhooed launch date is fast approaching. The brains behind the new channel has hinted at the possible programming we may see, but he has not offered any concrete schedule.
....The Pointmeister has called in some favors, and here for the first time anywhere is a synopsis of the programs that will be aired opening night.

6PM- Bullshit The Nation: A provocative slant on American politics. A frank and honest question and answer hour as the host, Old Hoss himself, pulls no punches as he interviews in depth prominent political personalities.



7PM- The Secret Life of the Dung Beetle: What do these janitors of the desert do after work? An intriguing look at these marvelous creatures, as the Old Hoss cameras follow them after a day of harvesting dung. Old Hoss gives the straight poop on this little known aspect of Mother Nature. He could not keep his promise that there would be no bullshit in this soon-to-be classic.


8PM- Nude Beaches of America: Old Hoss follows those who worship the sun wearing only a tan. Closeup interviews with several nudists as they frolic unashamed. Will Old Hoss bare it all and cavort with the natives at Horsetail Beach? One question on the mind of the viewers will be answered: With all that nudity, is there ever any hanky-panky? It must be hard to avoid getting a little excited.


9PM- Evolution: Where Do We Go From Here: Through the eons life has adapted to its ever changing environment. Life began in the sea, until that dramatic moment in time that a daring creature crawled onto land for the first time. Through the millennia life has taken on many shapes and sizes. Old Hoss gives us an unabashed look at where we came from and where we are headed. Will we crawl back into the sea that gave us birth? Or does evolution have another grand design that will take us to a higher plane of existence? Or have we already reached the zenith of our development? Old Hoss discusses the possibility that perhaps man is on the threshold of taking a step aside as another creature rises to the top? Could insects rule the world next? Could a common grub one day become President?

10PM- Michael Jackson: His Latest Operation: In an exclusive interview Jacko explains why he finally took that final step to complete his own personal evolution. His opening remark to Old Hoss makes this scathing one-on-one program must-see-TV! Jackson: Do you think I'm showing too much cleavage? Old Hoss: I didn't notice. When asked if he would be changing his name, Jackson said, "Yes. I was also fond of Bambi." Mark your calendars, this is one interview that Larry King and Barbara Walters wanted. You don't want to miss this one.

11PM- New Terrorism Statue: Controversy: Be among the first to witness the unveiling of this controversial statue dedicated to America's fight against terrorism. See an angry Osama bin Laden tell of his torture while posing for the statue. It was not what he expected when he asked his captors to set up an appointment at the Proctology Institute. One can almost feel sorry for him as he relates of his inability to sit for a week. Nah!! Old Hoss had to ask, "Why'd they use such a skinny flagpole?" An anonymous General reports that the model for the statue was to have originally been Sadam Hussein, but it was discovered that he actually enjoyed the session. "Now we couldn't have a smiling statue, could we?" said the General.
...."That's one kick-ass statue," says Old Hoss. "It is rumored that Preparation H paid a hefty $1,000,000 to sponsor the statue," he adds. Old Hoss relates the story of how our forces once had Osama captured. After getting flag-f**ked, the U.S. troops were ordered to let him go. Old Hoss tells us that ever since, Osama has remained hidden in his cave in Afghanistan. "That's one A-rab that's not only afraid to show his face, but is more afraid to show his ass!"

This has been an exclusive preview of the up-coming The Old Hoss Channel. Watch your TV listings for further details.
-The Pointmeister

No.299

Subterfuge

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There have been no shadowy figures lurking in the alleyways. No addresses have been under surveillance. There has been no wire-tapping. No one's phone has been bugged. There have been no cars following other cars. There has been little chance that any actions could cause an international incident or affect national security.
....That doesn't mean that there hasn't been a veil of secrecy encompassing the last several weeks. The measures taken to maintain that secrecy, however, would be envied by both the CIA and the FBI. But it has been an unorthodox "overt covertness" that has been utilized most effectively. The results of all those efforts will come to fruition tomorrow, Sunday afternoon.
....It hasn't been easy. It's never easy to keep a shower secret from a bride-to-be. I'm sure many of you, especially mothers, can concur on that. Oh, our daughter knows something is up. She knows there will be a shower, but she just doesn't know when or where.
....In an incident that has become known as the "When Pigs Fly Affair," post no.224 in the July archives, my daughter learned that the Wedding Shower was in the planning stages. A disgruntled Maid of Honor, documented in The Honey-Doings series in June and July, soon became a discharged Maid of Dishonor.
....That's all behind us now. Except for a few last minute details, the shower goes off tomorrow at 2pm. Did I just say a few last minute details? "Few" is in the eye of the reader. But to the "few-detail-doers," a few can be a lot! Let's see, this afternoon while my wife is baking, making an English Trifle, and generally organizing everything that has to be done, I will be on the other side of town to pick up a finger-sandwich platter and salad at a deli-shop, picking up fresh strawberries from a produce store on another side of town, and finally getting to my barber shop to have my ears lowered on still another side of town. Now, those are the last minute details for today.
....Tomorrow morning will be reserved for the last of the few remaining details. I have to load seven boxes, each holding what will be placed on each of the seven tables, such as centerpieces, plastic-ware, cups, napkins, etc. Next, I have to pick up the food being supplied by a restaurant between 11:30-11:45am. Then I am charged with dropping off that stuff at the hall, which will not be available until noon. If all is well, members of the wedding party and others will be there to start setting up everything. I then have to drive a couple of towns over to pick up an order of balloons. I understand that there will be seven helium-filled balloons of Winnie the Pooh and Tigger, each of which will be about 24 inches tall. I am concerned how I am going to accomplish this feat, because I have a small truck with a small cab. Driving might be difficult at best unless I can figure out how to keep them from drifting in my field of vision. I'll figure out something.
....I imagine that when I arrive back at the hall with the balloons, the place will be a beehive of active but frantic disorganized organization! The tensions and anguish hopefully will be abated by the time the 2pm deadline arrives. Everyone should be relaxed by the time the guests of honor get there. Hopefully.

Gretchen, my daughter, and Scott, her fiance', by the way think they are coming to a birthday party being held by her mother-in-law for her sister. Coincidently, there actually is a birthday party for the sister of the mother-in-law, who just happens to live next door to the hall. Of course, both of them think that we also have been invited to the party, and as such the presence of our vehicles will raise no flags. Are you following all of this?
....There is another interesting coincidence in that the names of the streets that we live on, the street where the hall is located, as well as the house of the aforementioned mother-in-law are the same - Preston Street. The only difference is that we live in a different city. Part of the ongoing subterfuge has been the use of Preston St. as a code word in conversations that Gretchen might hear.
....All of the seven boxes, as well as some gifts, have been "hidden" on the porch in trash bags. The stuff on the porch, when she asked about it, was explained as old clothing and articles that I would be taking to the Salvation Army and Goodwill locations in behalf of my clients. The free use of Preston Street in conversation and the trash bags are just a couple of the "overt covertness" activities we have been employing. Hidden, but yet right out in the open. Tomorrow at 2pm we will learn just how covert all of our openness has been.
....A posting of the celebration and how it went will be forthcoming.

(Gulp! I just had a terrible thought! Wouldn't it be just awful if my daughter decided to sit down and visit my site between now and tomorrow afternoon?)

No.298

No Stone Unturned

You know, when I think of a rolling stone, the first thing that comes to mind is not of Mick, Keith, Ron and Charlie, and it is not of Bob Dylan's song either.

No, the first image I see is that of Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) running from that giant rolling stone in the opening sequence of The Raiders of the Lost Ark. (The little black & white to the right seems fitting too.)

As the old adage goes, "A rolling stone gathers no moss," but The Rolling Stones have been amassing a lot green for four decades. Ron Woods, Charlie Watts, Keith Richards and of course, Mick Jagger, will be invading Fenway Park this weekend.

The Red Sox are the lucky ones, for they got out of town before these iconic bad boys of rock even arrived in Boston. In the shadow of the Green Monster work is well underway to construct the sound stage that will be used for the two scheduled concerts. In left field where Manny Ramirez roams, an eighty-two foot stage will dwarf the famous wall.

While the Red Sox are on the left coast playing the Angels, Friendly Fenway will be packed just the same. This is the third consecutive year that a concert has been staged there. Two years ago Bruce Springsteen rocked the old park. Last year the bizarre world of Parrot Heads took over, as Jimmy Buffet looked for his lost shaker of salt.

It seems to me that those who shell out the mega-bucks to attend the concert, will actually be getting two shows for the price of one. First and most obvious will be the Stones' belting out some of their hits. But perhaps the most interesting sights will be the paramedics swarming around the stage. Some will be ready with the wheel chairs and the walkers. Others will be standing by the numerous oxygen tanks and defribilators. Still others will be attending to the IV tubes.

Not exactly mother's little helpers are they?

No.297

Old Hoss Channel

Did anyone else out there know that old dinosaur has been holding out on us?

Apparently in another attempt to garner his pile, the venerable one has a cable channel! Could it be that the fame generated by that newspaper article has already opened a few doors for him?

The proof is in the pudding. Check out my recent post, No.294, "You Know.." Near the end of that posting there is a cartoon of a man using his remote to change channels on his TV. Watch the pictures of the TV screen that pop-up.

Did you see it? There it is that distinctive snake image. Who'd have thunk it?

Well, I do know one thing. I'm calling up my cable company to ask them to get "The Old Hoss Channel." I imagine it will probably be a premium channel. There go some more dead Presidents leaving my pocket to take up residence in Comcast's coffers.

No.296

Never Too Old

It's not always the mind that goes first.

It's not always the libido that goes.

It's not always the heart that goes.

Sometimes it's the hearing that goes first!

Celebrity Quotes on Relationships

"I've never been married, but I tell people I'm divorced so they won't think something's wrong with me." - Elaine Boosler

"A girl can wait for the right man, but in the meantime that doesn't mean she can't have a wonderful time with the wrong ones." - Cher

"I'm opposed to divorce. Why leave the nut you got for one you don't know." - Loretta Lynn

Heaven Is For Patriots

Osama bin Laden went to Heaven and was greeted by George Washington, who slapped him and yelled, "How dare you try to destroy the nation I helped to conceive!"

....Patrick Henry then approached and punched Osama in the nose. James Madison appeared and kicked him in the shin. An angry Thomas Jefferson whacked Osama over the head with a cane. The thrashing continued as John Randolph, James Monroe and 66 early Americans came in and unleashed their anger on the terrorist leader.

....Suddenly, as Osama lay writhing in unbearable pain, an angel appeared.

...."This is not what you promised me," Osama said to the angel.

...."Come on, Osama," the angel replied. "I told you there would be 72 Virginians waiting for you in Heaven."

No.295

You Know...

You know it's time to change the water in the fish bowl when you cannot see the fish.

You know the insurance company your office chose might be a fly-by-night outfit when they send you to the airport for X-rays.

You know it's time to quit playing rightfield for your softball team when the catcher catches the the fly ball you were attempting to grab.

You know you aren't getting that modeling job when you discover your bra is on backward and nobody even noticed.

You know wife is mad at you when she substitutes Preparation H for your Viagra.

You know your wife is still mad at you when you find a cleaver and an icepick instead of a fork and knife beside your supper plate.

You know you must be getting old when you sort the junk mail and throw away the Victoria's Secret catalog, but keep the one from the Burpee Seed Company.

You know that technology is leaving you behind when it takes both you and your wife to set up the computer.

You know that when your wife answers a call from an old high school girl friend, it's doubtful that the dog chose that exact moment to chew through the telephone cord.

You know your wardrobe needs to be updated when your kids want to borrow your favorite suit jacket as part of their Halloween costumes.










You know your marriage has
lost its spark when your only competition for
your husband is on-line Klondike Solitaire!

You know you have shared too much of your husband's interests when you can name the offensive linemen for the Detroit Lions.

You know you have shared too much of your wife's interests when you can name the kinds of stitches she's using when she knits or crochets.

You know you are out of shape when you realize that the only exercise you get is changing channels on your TV set with the remote.



You know you are spending way too much time on the internet if you are actually reading his blog.


You know that you know that you actually enjoy reading this blog.


No.294