Tuesday, January 31, 2006

El Dia de los Muertos

Day of the Dead

Some say it was because of an extremely intense solar flare. Some say it was due to a high intensity dose of X-rays through a hole in the O-zone layer. Others claim it was the result of a nuclear waste accident covered up by the government. Still others said it could only have been caused by out of control genetic research. Then there were those who claimed that some cosmic virus was brought to earth by a probe that collected dust particles from the tail of a comet.

Although considered a smoke screen by many, the government claimed that it was another over reaction to a selection from Oprah's Book Club. An unnamed official said her own battles of the bulge prompted her to promote "Eisoptrophobes And Me," by Yerfniw Harpo. Cryptologists had determined that she in fact was the author. Said one code breaker, "Eisoptrophobia is the fear of seeing oneself in a mirror. Since she allows no mirrors on her set, it was easy to deduct the work was hers."

It was a nerdy necrophiliac named Biff Butts who discovered the secret of the recent Lazarus Effect. All over the town of Gettysburgh there were reports of Civil War soldiers fighting in the streets, raping and pillaging, and of more concern to the citizenry, trampling the flowers on the graves.
....His college friends always thought he had seen that Bruce Willis movie too many times, because he was always saying, "I see dead people." Little did they know, Biff was actually dating a woman who had died before he was even born. He would meet her at her gravestone every Saturday. So enamored was he with this woman, that he would often spend the night with her.
....Things changed when his Mary and other stiffs started leaving the cemetery after midnight. It seems that they discovered the Wendys and Starbucks franchises downtown. While the two welcomed the influx of business, the managers were not happy with the decrease in profits. Said one manager, "At first I thought they were undercover policemen because they never paid for their coffee and donuts." Next door at the burger joint one waitress said, "They don't pay or clean up after themselves." Another waitress added, "One of them even flashed me, but it fell off. That's the only tip I got from any of them."
....One night Mary broke off their affair when she said to him, "Making love to you is like being assaulted with a dead weapon." She then introduced him to a Union soldier, Lance Corporal Lance Lance. As they walked away Mary said over her shoulder, "His name and rank are well chosen, if you know what I mean." Only later would Mary learn that it was Lance who had left the tip at Wendys.
....Spurned, Biff turned to his next love - his computer. His exhaustive research led him to the discovery of what had brought about El Dia de los Muertos - The Day of the Dead.
....At first he thought it was the result of massive amounts of Radon gas. It was only when he walked by a local Tex-Mex restaurant that the answer came to him. Cheech Chong's daughter had been in town. She had developed a taste for the place's bean, chili and burrito selections. Apparently she had been having one of everything whenever she stopped there to eat.
....By trial and error and working day and night, Biff came across another startling discovery. To test his theory, he went to the cemetery and placed notes from post-it pads on all of the graves. On those notes he invited all of the walking dead over to his place for a huge supper party.
....At every table he placed plates of open-faced peanut butter sandwiches. The guests gorged themselves on the food. Then he announced that there was a door prize for those who could gargle the peanut butter in the bowls next to their plates. An amazing thing then happened. The dead found their mouths stuck, unable to move. The peanut butter not only clung to their palates but lodged in their throats. Unable to breathe the RaeDawn gas, their bodies began to rapidly decay and crumble to dust.
....His theory was correct that dead people would suffer from the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roofs of their mouths, a condition known as Arachibutyrophobia. Many of the dead had not shown up for the supper and therefore had not partaken of the deadly peanut butter. Biff had anticipated this might happen, and had prepared a back-up contingency for the remaining corpse corps. Earlier he had hooked up a series of loud speakers in the neighborhoods closest to the cemetery. He had burned a CD of music which he piped throughout the city. The combination of the greatest hits of Michael Bolton, James Taylor, Cyndi Lauper, Joan Baez, and the Village People caused the dead to literally disintegrate into powdery dust. For good measure he also played "Sandy" by John Travolta.

The Chong woman left for the West coast soon after and there were no further occurrences of the dead rising in Gettysburgh. Biff forwarded transcripts of his research to Los Angeles in case she ever decided to go on a Tex-Mex binge again. Biff Butts the nerd became a national hero.

The moral of the story: The next time you pick on and make fun of nerds, just remember he might be a hero one day. He might even become President ... of the Chess Club ... the Astronomy Club ... or he might, just might take up ... Blogging.


Monday, January 30, 2006

The Best of Fractured Etymology

(The Pointmeister has culled from a series of nine separate entries from his archives of the past year some of the best entries that can be found in his Dictionary of Fractured Etymology.)

One can never have a large enough vocabulary.

  1. Aftermath - When I had English class
  2. Analogy - Life story of an asshole
  3. Autopilot - One of the stars of the movie "Airplane"
  4. Benign - What an 8-year-old is on next birthday
  5. Bombadier - Use grenades to kill Bambi
  6. Brouhaha - Giggles from drinking too much beer
  7. Budget - What Yoda says when he needs another beer
  8. Catch-22 - A bust when playing Blackjack
  9. Commercial - What Hershel's mother says when dinner is ready
  10. Controvertible - Sedan
  11. Donate - The past tense of donut
  12. Elixir - What a man does after he kisses that low
  13. End all - The letter "L"
  14. Ennui - Where tears form
  15. Experiment - The hardened wads found under counter tops
  16. Feline - Where you wait for hours to pay your registration
  17. Forego - What you do after foreplay
  18. Hortense - What happened when the hooker was busted
  19. Larceny - Posting "The Far Side" cartoons against cartoonist's wishes
  20. Miniscule - Kindergarten
  21. Mystery - She spelled cheese as "chese"
  22. Negligent - Wearing flannel pajamas to bed
  23. Oxymoron - The dude who sells Oxy cleaner on those Infomercials
  24. Pasteurize - Where your eyebrows are found
  25. Piston - Much worse than pistoff
  26. Rectum - What happened to the cars in a head-on collision
  27. Rhubarb - Ru Paul's sister who dresses up as a man
  28. Sparrow - What you have when you spell "boook"
  29. Upstart - The letter "U"
  30. Voluptuary - Where Victoria's Secret models live.

(Feel free to use these new words in your everyday conversations or in your blogs. Impress friends and family members with your enriched vocabulary. You are well on your way to becoming a Lexicon.)


Sunday, January 29, 2006

Redneck High Tech

Hey, even Rednecks need to keep up with the latest in technological advances.

A must have device for the successful Redneck is the state-of-the-art Palm Pilot.

You never know when there will be that last minute shopping item.
....Or the telephone number of that hot bar maid down at the bar.

What Redneck family man wouldn't want to travel in style to see what's over the next ridge and across the crick? He can do just that in his brand new motor home!

....The model pictured has four toilets with retro-outhouse openings in the floors that allow his family to go in comfort while the fruits of their labors fall to the road and are left behind with no cumbersome cleanup.

There is even an optional in-law tow along trailer. If he has a chain-smoking mother-in-law, there is also a lounge for smoking.

While the more successful Redneck might fly the friendly skies of Redneck Airlines which recently introduced its In-law Air-Trailer Service, the average Redneck prefers to keep his ass on the ground. The money saved can be applied to creature comforts such as Skoal and NASCAR DVDs.

He and his family can travel the backroads in comfort. A fully functional kitchen will allow his wife to easily prepare meals from the abundant road kill found along the way. It sure beats the hell out of airline food.

....The family can sleep in comfort listening to the accessorized wind chimes as they careen around the hair-pin curves of the dirt roads. The driver has a plethora of gadgets that allow him to keep tabs on his family while his eyes are on the road.

Not withstanding is the unique GPS. With the "Good Peek in Shower" system he can see if that purty young cousin has enough soap and water pressure.

There will come a time while the family is on a motor home vacation, when they will want to stay over at one of those motor home rest areas. This will afford the kin folk an opportunity to get out and stretch their legs and get away from the close quarters with the in-laws. It will also allow the driver to go see if that purty young cousin needs any help with her shower. Uncles and nieces often form close bonds this way.
....The beauty of this motor home model is that it can be jacked up to allow the truck to be driven separate. This proves to be valuable for the men to take off on a road trip to buy some more beer, Skoal and some more NASCAR DVDs.

Finally, for the Rednecks who are afraid to fly and don't like to travel in close quarters with so many family members, a brand new airline service has begun operations. Using the Country's Interstate Highways, Acrophobia Airlines will carry passengers anywhere their flying competitors go, limited only to the contiguous continental states.

"Fly the friendly I's of Acrophobia" will soon become a Redneck household slogan.


Saturday, January 28, 2006

The Incredible Shirking Man

After a tough day at work, it sure feels good to settle down at the computer with a life restoring cup of hot coffee. It feels good to get out my work clothes and into my blogging outfit.

A quick check of the mail was fruitful. Finally my new Hooters calendar has arrived. Here's a picture of it. Check out May!!

As I sit here typing these words onto the screen before me, I have begun to assess some unfinished projects. The most recent is my series "Distaff and Datstaff" about funny sexploits of some people with whom I partied and worked. To date I have only managed to post two installments of a total of 14 episodes, the last of which was on Nov. 30, although a third is sitting as a current draft awaiting completion.

I am far more negligent at another project that was near and dear to my heart. I am referring to a short story that I had been posting. Indeed, I have posted eleven chapters in all. The short story began to take on the proportions of a novella. I will venture to guess that those eleven chapters represent a little more than one third of the completed story. My last entry was posted somewhere around the middle of August, 2005. The name of the story is The Quill and the Quire.

Soon, very soon, I hope to continue the project. I will not make the same mistake that I made back then. I need to write and post one chapter per week. I must first go back and read what has been posted so far in order to get a feel for the story again. You see, I tended to 'superimpose' myself on the main character and was "living" the story as it unfolded. That was working just fine until I began to jump ahead beyond the current posting. "Future" facts of the story began to get confused with the story's "present," to the point that I didn't know where I was.

Beginning in about the third week of September, 2005, the story appears on the following posts: Nos. 256, 257, 258, 261, 265, 268, 270, 275, 276, 280, and 288. I guess I would classify the story as part suspense, love, occult, and horror. When I finally get around to resuming the project, I will first post a recap of the first eleven chapters to spare anyone the task of going back into my archives, although they are welcome if they choose to do so.

To anyone who may have been wondering what happened to the story, especially Schnoodlepooh, I appologize for letting it hang in limbo for so long.

Between now and then, I need to purge all of these ideas that been running rampant in my head. I need to commit them to notes and clear up some "space on my hard drive."

Speaking of random thoughts and ideas, do you need any further proof about global warming? Check out womens underwear over the last several decades.


Friday, January 27, 2006

Hook, Line And Thinker

Where were you when the lites come on? It comes as a surprise to me that we must have been in the dark for so long. I didn't hear the decree, "Let there be lite." Why did someone find it necessary to change the ingredients of our lives? Just what was wrong with the contents on the label in the first place?

All I wanted was a jar of mayonnaise. I didn't think it was an unreasonable request to make of the aisle boy.
...."Excuse me, where is the regular mayonnaise?" Before the baleful blank stare of the acne scarred face, I pointed at the display shelves. "I see low fat. Here's low sodium. Now these two ... What's the diference between Light ... And Lite?"
....He raised his index finger and said, "I'll be right back." As I watched his retreat, it occurred to me why they call them aisle boys. They say, "I'll be back," and leave you alone in the aisle.

Okay, we live in a health conscious world, but why is it managed by unhealthy unconscious school kids earning minmum wage in a store that guarantees maximum service from its professional associates?
....Why is that food that is fat free, sodium free, or cholesterol free costs more than the original product? For that matter, why do some lite things cost more than the light things? Ah, less letters? If you remove something, it follows that it costs more.
....Let's see if I have this straight now. They pay less help less money, they sell a product that contains less for more money, and nobody helps you so they don't have to pay consulting fees. I must have been taking naps in my economy classes when they taught that chapter.

The supermarkets then reel us in using a new strategy - Hook, Line and Thinker! They bait the hook with a sale to buy one and get one free, get us to wait in lines, and allow us to think we are getting a bargain. (All the while, the item is marked 50% higher than it was last week and 25% higher than it will be next week.) Of course, they got a pallet of the stuff free in exchange for displaying it prominently in the front of the store. The strategy is more brilliant when you observe the little old ladies engaged in elbow slinging wrestling matches to get at the product.
....Said one little old lady adjusting her glasses which were nearly knocked off her face, "Nobody in the house likes this stuff, but at that price, it was too good to pass up! I grabbed six cans."
....As for me, I think the supermarkets' method of sales should be more appropriately called "Bait and Bitch." They bait you into buying something you don't want or need under the guise of a good deal. Then when you get home and study the receipt you bitch when you realize you were duped.
....My personal "favorite" is the old size scam. When you pick up two six-ounce cans of garbanzos for a dollar, you might be wise to check the 12-ounce cans which are 79 cents each. To quote the sweet Monty - "I'm just sayin'."

Speaking of bargains, how come those fast food places never super-size salads and fruit cups?


Sleeping In Is Bad For You

I know without asking that you've had one of those days you wished you'd stayed in bed. We all have.

Have you ever had a day you wished you'd gotten out of bed? Bite my tongue, you say? Funny you say that....

The weather forecast Sunday evening called for the precise amount of snow as 'plowable.' I was able to hit the sack without worrying about whether I'd be taking my truck to work or hitching up the huskies to the sled. With the snowfall set to begin in the wee hours, and the accumulation amounts apparent in time for the morning commute, the storm would move out to sea by the early afternoon.
....Just how much "divine dandruff" would be covering the area, was left to our imagination. There was a lot of ..."If the front tracks here, the low lying areas could receive upwards of..., "but if it dips below here, the coastal areas will bear the brunt..." In a nutshell, the meteorologists didn't have a clue. If either one of the scenarios happened, he or she would be strutting proud as a peacock because they called it right. You know the drill, close as in horseshoes, hand grenades and weather prognostication.

I was awakened to the grinding of metal on pavement. It was like fingernails being drawn against a chalkboard. My eyes fell upon the hazy glow of the green digital numerals across the room on the dresser. Damn, I thought, it was only 11:00! I had just gotten to bed, hadn't I? Au contraire, foolish chum. It was 11 AM!
....I creaked as I maneuvered myself from the bed. The chain of events that happened in the next 10 or 15 seconds was the stuff of nightmares: the stumble against the dog, the awkward attempt at balance that resulted in stepping on the cat's tail, which in turn led to a near fall broken only by grabbing the knob on the door, which in turn began to close, thus carrying me to my right until my fall was broken when my chin finally came to rest on the dresser. The yelp of the dog, the screech of the cat, and my cry of pain from biting my tongue, was racket enough to awaken a neighbor, but not so my wife.

After managing to pull on my pants without further mishap, I limped over to the nearest window to view what winter wonderland was awaiting me outside. The dog was watching me growling, the cat was hissing from a safe perch on the sofa back, and my chin and tongue hurt like hell. At first I was blinded by the white glare when I pulled aside the shade. Judging by the hand rail of the front stairs we'd gotten 3 or 4 inches of the white stuff. The snow was still falling.

Turning on the front burner of the stove and placing the kettle atop it, I made a beeline for the bathroom. For some reason at times such as this, that old Alka Seltzer jingle seems to pop into my head: "Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is..."
....The kettle had begun a slow wheeze and it moments it would be whistling angrily. I was pulling up my pants even as I strode to the kitchen. I tugged at the zipper ... Oh, My ... GOD!! F--K!! Why do we get tears when we experience excruciating pain? I fail to see that it ever helps. Fortunately "he" had not been completely relaxed yet and that little bit of rigidity prevented more of him from being eaten by the teeth of the zipper. I was able to undo the damage without too much more pain. No blood had been drawn.
....My wife strolled into the kitchen at about the same time I was guzzling down the last of my coffee. If I'd been quite a bit younger, I would asked for my boo-boos to be kissed. For some reason, that request is not honored when you reach adulthood. It was just one of many things on the list of that lost to childhood.

Yes, I sure wished that I'd gotten out of bed sooner. I should have gotten up at 6:30 like any other week day. I would have been long gone and at work. I would have already had the driveway shoveled and the snow brushed off the cars. I had been taken in - played the sucker. I was robbed! Putting my faith in the weatherman's prediction of "plowable" snow, I stayed in bed anticipating that I'd be getting a late start. Plowable indeed! How was I going to explain why I was late for work? Taking a snow day with a mere three inches of ground cover wasn't going to suffice.

Let's see now, I'd nearly killed myself, pissed off the cat and dog, and jeopardized my sex life ... All because I'd decided to sleep in! I can only conclude that staying in bed is not conducive to one's health. Sleeping in is bad for you.


Thursday, January 26, 2006

Unidentified Frying Objects

Nothing would be finer ...
Than to be in a diner ...
In the morning.

They are on the endangered list. I fear that someday soon they will join drive-in theaters as nostalgic memories. They will appear on a list on someone's blog titled "Do you Remember?"

I once thought I would never get over the disappearance of drive-in restaurants. I can still visualize the car hops on roller skates carrying those huge trays laden with those fried delights, the lights glistening on the grease. Anticipation was not waiting for ketchup to Carly Simon lyrics, but for your share of the booty to be passed to you. With colorful names like Chat n' Chew and Toot n' Tellem, they were the original fast food eateries.

Alas, they are gone, just a part of the lore that was the fabulous fifties. It never occurred to me then that the drive-in movie would also succumb to the changing times. I should have seen it coming that even the hallowed Saturday matinees would be wrested from our lives.

Perhaps because of the unrest of the late sixties, maybe because I had lost my youth, or that I had forgotten just how good we had it, I passed into manhood without ceremony. I scarcely noticed the changes as they were happening. They say you never know what you had until it's gone.

Now, in the so-called new millenium, there is another assault on those things that are right with the world. Locally the diner, that last bastion of greasy sit-downs, is going the way of T-Rex. There is no comet of mass extinction this time. No, the threat is more ominous, insidious. Creature comforts are being absconded, not by acts of God, but by those we'd call friend or neighbor. Well meaning, albeit self-serving guardians and purveyors of our good health have championed their cause du jour with an unwanted fervor.

When I sit down at the counter, spin a couple of times on those cool stools, and wait for the waitress with the grease-stained apron to approach, visions of sausage and bacon dance in my head. I am a poster child for Pavlov's dog, my sleeve the nearest napkin, and I am drooling. The gum cracking in the back of her mouth is my signal to exercise my stomach's right to receive homage to my taste buds. Like the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, the epicure in me warbles out the sweet gastronomical order. "Three eggs over easy, and don't drain the grease. Three sausage links. Bacon, wet and crispy. Six pancakes, buttered no oleo, and smothered in hot maple syrup. Toast, buttered both sides. A small glass of grape juice and a cup of coffee on the blonde side, milk no cream."

She repeats my order aloud, not so much for my benefit, but for the ear of obese cook sweating over the grill behind the opening into the kitchen. "Three islands on the ocean. All the little piggies crying. Six dollars shiny gold, pour it on. Paint some rafts. He's a Welcher and gimme some mud, don't shake the cow."

You look confused. I take it you never frequented a diner of old. You never learned to speak grillese? It makes perfect sense to me. Of course the diners of today, what are left of them, seem to have forsaken the grillese. The diners I remember had a colorful language of their own. Each establishment and its staff seemed to have developed a dialect unique to themselves.

If you remember the old TV show, Alice, you have a good idea what of what the diners of the fifties and sixties were like. Mel Sharples was representative of a diner cook-owner. It seemed like every one of these places had a ditzy Vera and a level headed Alice. If you were lucky, yes lucky, you could find a Flo Castleberry in some of these roadside greasy spoons. I don't know if there are any to be found like the ones of the good old days, but I would drive 50 miles out of my way to eat there.

I respect and salute those of you choose to avoid fatty and greasy foods. There certainly are people with health concerns who must watch what they eat. But I am not one of them! Nobody is holding a gun to anyone's head to force them to eat eggs with the grease puddling in their plates. (Yummy) Just don't force me to deny my palate. If it isn't bad enough that that key ingredient lard is seldom used, you've also denied me the pleasure of lighting up after I have downed my breakfast manna.

You don't want to eat in one of these diners? Keep your foot on the accelerator, there's a McDonalds down the highway a piece. You don't want to eat where they allow customers to smoke? Put the pedal to the metal. I'll be sure to wave to you as zip on down the highway. I'll frame your SUV in a perfectly formed smoke ring as you shrink from sight. I'll slip a quarter into the little juke box at my booth and play On The Road Again just for you. Then I think ...Should I? Yes! I'll have a real milkshake.

Note: I don't eat a breakfast like this very often anymore. However, when I get a craving for such a breakfast, it sure would be nice to hop into my truck and giddyap on over to one of the diners that I miss and remember so well.

Bon Appetit!


Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Once Around The Blog

Recent Additions To My Blog Roll

My Blogroll has grown again, and as I like to do, allow me to introduce you to them. Drop in on them sometime, and tell them I sent you. If you are already familiar with any of them, please visit them again.

Fn Queen is from Oklahoma. I guess all Sooners are destined to be good Bloggers! It must be something in the water. While her site is loading, the first thing you see is "I Don't Make This Shit Up." Right away I thought, this is going to be some good reading. I wasn't wrong.

Laina, Hillbilly Princess is an Ohioan Attorney. I figure anyone who proudly uses "Hillbilly" in reference to themselves is okay in my book. Avoiding any Lawyer and shark jokes, I gave her a mulligan. Well, if she practices law as good as she writes, then I am hiring her when I need legal advice.

If you like original poetry, then take a trip to Florida and visit Junie Rose. Although she specializes in it, poetry isn't all she writes. She has a nice post about a family bike ride and Hardees biscuits - yum. Check her out, maybe she has some of those hot biscuits leftover.

Ah, then there is Marti down there in the Show Me State. Like a lot of Bloggers, she is an aspiring novelist. It shows in her very interesting blog. I particularly recommend her 1/17 post "Enter The Laughter Named To the Blog Herald List." About one-third of the day down she reprises a blog from last July called "DMV or Diarrheal Mahatma Voodoo." We all have experienced a trying day at the Department of Motor Vehicles, but I do not envy her day.
....It just so happens she is running a contest over there. Leave a Valentines Day joke in her comments and you could win a free box of candy! That's reason enough to go visit her.

Take a spin with me to Down Under and visit Peter in Queensland, Australia. Many of you are already familiar with his work, but those of you who haven't had the pleasure, this an opportunity to correct an egregious oversight on your part. I suggest that you high-tail it on over there. His 1/22 post "Girlfriend 1.0 - Wife 1.0" is a classic must-read laugh fest. If you read nothing else on his site, or on the web for that matter, read this one!

From a pretty blonde to a readhead to a light redhead with highlights, Shann is a Southern California girl. She, who by not her own doing, is experimenting to see if she can have fun as a redhead too. Do drop in on her and her lovely family.

If you like music, you must like musicians. You'll find nothing to not like about Stringman. A neighbor of mine, he is from south of Boston. While he is a guitarist and plays in a band, he just might be missing his calling as a humorist. Check him out. No topic is too sensitive for him to tackle, and he does it tactfully.

The last of my recent additions is T Melendez. He is Spanish speaking but he writes in English, and quite well I might add. He is a Fort Lauderdale, Florida resident. His writings run the gamut from food and sex to TV and politics and everything between. Won't you stop by and say "hola" to him.

I hope you enjoy reading these blogs. You may very well wish to blogroll them yourselves. I'm sure they won't mind.


Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Three Of A Kind

The local oldies station in the Boston area, WODS (103.3 FM) has a feature game every day between 10 and 10:15 AM. The DJ plays three songs back to back to back. The listeners are invited to call in and guess what the three songs have in common. They award a prize like tickets and gift certificates usually worth $25 to $50.
....The songs could be by the same artist, contain similar themes or lines, etc. Here are the three songs they offered up today:
1) Me and Bobby McGee
2) Sittin' On The Dock of The Bay
3) Time In a Bottle
It took an hour before one listener called in with the correct answer. (I didn't get the answer, though I should have.) Can you come up with an answer?

Here is one they had last week: (This one is a toughie)
1) Here Comes The Sun
2) Something
3) Do You Want To Know A Secret?
While these are all songs recorded by The Beatles, it is not the answer the DJ was looking for. (I didn't get this one either.)

Here is an easier one:
1) Strawberry Wine
2) This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)
3) You Light Up My Life
(I got this one.)

The Station also allows listeners to make up their own "Three Of A Kind" and submit them either by fax or e-mail. If any of those submitted are accepted and used on the air, the submitter also wins the prize. The next one is one that was used that I sent in. My prize was $50 gift certificate to Home Depot.
1) Windy
2) Charlie Brown
3) Judy In Disguise (With Glasses)
The DJ rated this as a hard one, but a caller had the correct answer in 10 minutes.

The answers to all four of the games appear below.

On a different subject, I'm sure most of you have heard of the Playboy pictorials called "The Girls of ____." They have featured at times, the Girls of the ACC, SEC, Big Ten, etc. They have also ran The Girls of Enron and The Girls of Starbucks. That got me to thinking of "The Girls of ____" that they would never run. I don't think they would ever run the "Girls of the Vatican." I'm sure they would pass on "The Before Girls of Jenny Craig." (Sorry Kirstie.) Do you think they would consider "The Girls of Chat Rooms?" Now here's a possible classic, "The Girls of La Cage aux Folles." No? How about "The Girls of The Golden Girls?" I suppose that rules out "The Girls of Assisted Living."

What do you call all the information we bloggers put in our side bars? Marginalia, of course.

Three Of A Kind answers:
Me and Bobby Mcgee (Janis Joplin); Sittin' On The Dock of the Bay (Otis Redding); and Time In a Bottle (Jim Croce) - - All three of these songs became posthumous number 1 hits for the artists.

Here Comes The Sun; Something; and Do You Want To Know A Secret - - While all hits by The Beatles, these were written by George Harrison. (Most of The Beatles hits were written by Paul McCartney or John Lennon.)

Strawberry Wine (Nancy Sinatra); This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) (Natalie Cole); and You Light Up My Life (Debby Boone) - - were recorded by artists who were all the daughters of famous male singers.

Windy (The Association); Charlie Brown (The Coasters); and Judy In Disguise (With Glasses) (John Fred and His Playboy Band) - - the common theme is kite flying. You need wind; Charlie Brown is known for his problems trying to fly a kite; and from the last song there are the lyrics "I'm gonna take up the strings of my kite.."


Monday, January 23, 2006

The Rules Are, There Are No Rules

Someone once asked me why I didn't post something funny about men from a woman's point of view? That someone was quite convincing. So I ventured into cyberspace to harvest some anti-men graphics. Then I culled through them and came up with the seven images found on this post. So under duress (that someone is standing behind me) I am cheerfully submitting to her request.

....She insists that we men need to follow a few sets of rules, like those at the left. She reminded me that women know what is on the minds of men most of the time. They don't always realize that there is a time and a place for everything, even sex.

....She suggested that I should show how sometimes a dog is a better companion for a woman than a man. She said that in some ways a man is a dog, especially when he wants sex. Exposing himself when she is sitting on the toilet is not a very promising way to turn on a woman. Fondling her breasts when she is dicing onions is not a very good idea.

She suggests that men should read the 15 reasons why dogs are better than men.

She added with a grin, that dogs can lick their own privates. (Private thought of author: Yes, but not as good!)

I started to recite to her some reasons that beer is better than women, but she cut me short. She said she could counter with as many reasons a dildo is better than a man. (Private thought of author: I don't suppose I'd dare to ask for a demonstration?)

She reminded me that beer makes men drunk. We have to keep getting up for the bathroom. It creates foul odors when we break wind. At first, we get amorous, but then we fall asleep. We are useless the next morning. Then she said to me, "Can your beer do this?"

She stopped, lest I got any ideas other than posting this blog. (Private thought of author: If it could, it wouldn't stop.) She commented that she wished she looked as good as that picture. I said in return, "You always look good to me." (You don't think I was going to touch any comparisons, do you?)

Then she said that men should learn a few things about what to do and not to do in the bedroom. (Uh oh, I thought. Here comes the performance review.)

She said she wasn't going to get into techniques and satisfaction - at least not at that particular moment. She said that men need to know how to talk to their women in bed. As important as saying the right things, avoiding saying the wrong things could go a long way to improving love making.

As the image popped up over there on the right, I felt a measure of relief. I was innocent of every single one of those things. Whew! She agreed, but added that I seldom talk at all. (I chose not to cite that she has little to say during the act herself.)

I said to her that not all men are like this. She agreed, but there was also a difference in some cases. Single men don't have to worry about being banished to the couch, especially those living in their parent's basements.

She was quick to remind me that even married men could learn a thing or two from this blog. (Private thought: Swell! People have been known to shoot the messenger!)

She reminded me that women do talk amongst themselves - about their boyfriends and husbands. Guys, I don't know about you, but I'm not so sure I want to hear this. She is quick to add that men also discuss their girl friends and wives with other guys. Anyone want to lay odds on whether the discussions of their significant others' stories match? "This is bitch, my girlfriend." "What a coincidence! My girfriend's a bitch!"

I have a confession to make here. My wife is not really standing by while I am posting this. She did make the suggestion, however. As such, I chose to use her as an imaginary overseer to give her credit for the idea. If she has any problem with this this posting at all, it would most certainly be the picture and suggestion behind "Can your beer do this?"

Even after all of our years (33 in May) of marriage, she still maintains a certain amount of modesty. If there is any over exposure at all in our home, it would my swinging medallion and baubles that would be visible.

When push comes to shove though, guys we must always remember to be nice in your older years. While there is evidence of male menopause, it pales, man does it pale, to the changes a woman goes through.

I did admit to her that I would have to put together a counter posting to this one. After all, all is fair in sex and blogging.

She said I wouldn't be able to one together that would be as funny as this one. I had to remind her that it was a simple matter of perspective. More women will find this funny than men. A post of how men see women would be funnier to men than it would be for women.

She shrugged and reiterated that it still wouldn't be as good as this one. There you have it. The challenged has been issued.

What do you think guys? Am I walking on thin ice here if I accept the challenge? Girls, what do you think?


Sunday, January 22, 2006

Beating Around The Bush

Bush - Pope Summit

The Pointmeister was able to get his mitts on the transcript of the recent Summit meeting between President Bush and the Pope. What follows is an inexpurgated segment of their private talks before the microphones were turned on and the cameras were allowed to roll.

Bush: I see we are going to discuss Catalytic converters.
Pope: That's Catholic converts. We celebrate new converts with special Rites.
Bush: I know all about converted rice. We throw it at weddings. We used Uncle Bens. Gosh darn stuff gets in your hair and pockets ...
Pope: (Groan.)
Bush: You have a headache, Pope? Er ... Mr. Pope? My wife Laura takes Tylenol for headaches. It must work too, 'cause she takes them almost every night. She says that's one bush I can't have.
Pope: Ahem. We have some condos leased for the converts to live during the rites.
Bush: Condoleeza Rice? No, she was unable to make the trip. It seems she was having a bad hair day. Now that I think about it, she has a bad hair day everyday.
Pope: No, condos. So they will be safe.
Bush: Oh, I see what you mean - condoms. We call them safes too. Nah, I never use them, myself. How do you think we had the twins? Immaculate Contraception?
Pope: The Church does not permit the use of those or other means of contraception. We prefer rhythm.
Bush: Oh. I'm afraid I don't dance very good.
Pope: I mean ... Oh, never mind. Your wife has headaches.
Bush: Why, yes ... How did you know? Wait a minute ... You been to the White House when I was away Presidenting?
Pope: Mr. President, you just told me about her headaches.
Bush: Yes, so I did, didn't I? Besides you have a vow of Celery don't you?
Pope: (Blank stare.)
Bush: I just remembered the story about when you went to Mount Olive.
Pope: I went to Mount Olive?
Bush: Don't play dumb with me, Popester! I heared Popeye beat the crap out of you! Olive is his woman.
Pope: I don't suppose you brought any of those Tylenols with you?
Bush: Sure thing. (Fumbles through pockets.) Here you go. Take two.
Pope: Thank you. (Gulp!) Purple Tylenol is stronger than the regular white ones?
Bush: Purple? Holy shit! Sorry about the cussin', but you just took my Viagra!
Pope: What is this Viagra? Will it harm me?
Bush: Too hard to tell. But it is a good thing you wear those loose fitting pajamas all the time.
Pope: It's a robe. A habit.
Bush: Ah, okay. I have a habit when I'm home. I walk around nekkid.
Pope: (Blesses self with sign of the cross.)
Bush: I'm afraid you lost me there, Popemeister. I can't speak a word of sign language.
Pope: Ahem. Can we get to the problems at hand - the reason for this summit?
Bush: Trust me, when those Viagras kick in, you will definitely have the solution in hand.
Pope: How is your search going in Iraq for those Weapons of Mass Destruction, Mr. President?
Bush: Don't you go worrying about those, oh Pontificating one. They have no weapons that can wreck your Sunday masses.

It is here that the private conversation between the Pope and the President ended. The press had taken their seats and the official summit began. You can see the summit on your television sets. Check your local listings for the time and networks.
Here's a hint, tune into your favorite can't-miss programs, and there it will be. Your preempted programs will be back on the following week, unless of course, the networks choose to rerun this important summit.

After the summit, there was a brief handshaking session. There were a few moments out of the earshot of the dignitaries and the press that the Pope and the President had a few more private words. Once again, The Pointmeister has scooped CNN.

Bush: I'd like to present to you a special gift as a token of my gratitude for meeting with me in this important summit. It is a game I am going to market when my Presidency is over. It is based on a popular kids game from the fifties. I call it the George W. Bush Operation Game.

Pope: This image of you is anatomically correct?

Bush: Well, Laura use to think it was atomic ... But that was before the headaches.

Pope: You will excuse me, please. But there is a certain ... Matter I must see to ... In my chambers.

Bush: Heh heh. Ahem. Of course. I hope you have more than one chambermaid. You took two of them ... Remember?

Pope: (Scratches head in confusion with one hand, while reaching inside his robe with the other.)

The only way The Poinmeister can think to close out this exclusive, is to say it is probably most fortunate and apropos that there is a Missionary position.


Saturday, January 21, 2006

Redneck Driver's Application

While going through some of my old papers and effects from my days back in West Virginia, I came across some interesting stuff. I found my tassel from the mortar board I wore when I graduated from high school. Really, I really did. I swear. In that old Cheerios box, I also found my diploma.

I smiled when I found my very first little black book. As I leafed through it, there was only five pages with names and numbers on them. Under the letter B there was Brother - Rick and his number.
Over on the letter D there was Dad and his number. On M I found two listings: me and my number and Mom and her number. Finally over at the letter S was Sister - Brenda, and Sister Diana and both of their numbers.

As you can see, even then I was showing a propensity for writing. Note the attention to detail and structure. (Never mind that we all lived in the same house and had the same number.)

Then I found a copy of my old Application for my first driver's license. It sure brought back some memories. For all you people out there that like to make jokes about us hillbillies, check out the application we had to fill in. I'll bet you'll think twice now before making jokes about our learning abilities. Shoot, the application was harder than the drivers test itself. That's right, the hardest thing on a teenage hillbilly is a test. I had to study for one of those urinalysis tests, but I passed!

Here it is. Check it out.

Redneck Driver's Application

Pleez compleet this paper, best ya can.

Last name: ________________

First name:
[_] Billy-Bob [_] Bobby-Sue
[_] Billy-Joe [_] Bobby-Jo
[_] Billy-Ray [_] Bobby-Ann
[_] Billy-Sue [_] Bobby-Lee
[_] Billy-Mae [_] Bobby-Ellen
[_] Billy-Jack [_] Bobby-Beth Ann Sue

Age: ____ (if unsure, guess)

Sex: [_]M [_]F [_]None

Shoe Size: ____ Left ____ Right

[_] Farmer [_] Mechanic
[_] Hair Dresser [_] Waitress
[_] Un-employed [_] Dirty Politician

Spouse's Name: __________________________
2nd Spouse's Name: __________________________
3rd Spouse's Name: __________________________
Lover's Name: __________________________
2nd Lover's Name: __________________________

Relationship with spouse:
[_] Sister [_] Aunt
[_] Brother [_] Uncle
[_] Mother [_] Son
[_] Father [_] Daughter
[_] Cousin [_] Pet

Number of children living in household: ___
Number of children living in shed: ___
Number of children that are yours: ___

Mother's Name: _______________________
Father's Name: _______________________

Education: 1 2 3 4 (Circle highest grade completed)
If you obtained a higher education what was your
[_] 5th grade [_] 6th grade

Do you [_] own or [_] rent your mobile home?

Vehicles you own and where you keep them:
___ Total number of vehicles you own
___ Number of vehicles that still crank
___ Number of vehicles in front yard
___ Number of vehicles in back yard
___ Number of vehicles on cement blocks

Age you started drivin ______ (If over 10 are you
are still slow lerrnin ? [_] Yes [_] No)

Firearms you own and where you keep them:
____ truck ____ kitchen
____ bedroom ____ bathroom/outhouse
____ shed ____ pawnshop

Model and year of your pickup: _________ 194_

Do you have a gun rack?
[_] Yes [_] No; If no, please explain:

Newspapers/magazines you subscribe to:
[_] The National Enquirer [_] The Globe
[_] TV Guide [_] Soap Opera Digest
[_] Rifle and Shotgun [_] Bassmasters

___ Number of times you've seen a UFO
___ Number of times you've seen Elvis
___ Number of times you've seen Elvis in a UFO

How often do you bathe:
[_] Weekly
[_] Monthly
[_] Not Applicable

How many teeth in YOUR mouth? ___
Color of teeth:
[_] Yellow [_] Brownish-Yellow
[_] Brown [_] Black
[_] N/A

Brand of chewing tobacco you prefer:
[_] Red-Man [_] Skoal

How far is your home from a paved road?
[_] 1 mile
[_] 2 miles
[_] don't know
There you have it. Now remember, please think twice before you start bad mouthing us hillbillies.

Out of Line On Line

Do we really know who we are dealing with on the internet? In chat rooms - probably not. In game rooms - again, probably not. There is so much shit slung against walls to see if it sticks in those places, that I think the perpetrators begin to believe their own deceptions. As far as I am concerned, you schmooze you lose.

As for blogs, I think for the most part, you do get a sense of the person behind the screen name. Of course, I am referring to the faithful bloggers who post on a regular basis. If they are serious about their writing, a little bit of themselves can be found in their words.

Of course, some people probably spend too much time on line. That goes for bloggers as well, and I include myself in that club.

The cartoon shows a doctor who obviously uses much of his spare time on line. He probably visits the same comedy club shown in the next cartoon.

I have read other bloggers who have touched upon the use of "LOL" in real life situations. I have never come out and actually enuciated LOL, but I have caught myself about to say it aloud. It has been on the tip of my tongue and fortunately I have been able to suppress it. The same holds true for "ROFLMAO." Imagine the stares if you were to unleash that one in a live conversation.

I will admit that I do tend to talk to the computer, or more precisely at it! I feel safe in surmising that I am not alone on this one. In fact, my computer is no virgin to expletives deleted! How many times, I wonder was the computer innocent and it was I who was at fault? I think I have the edge, to be perfectly honest.

There is one improvement to the standard keyboard I would like to see. When there is a problem, I don't like leaving anything to chance, and this key would remove me from any responsibility. Press any key ... Well I will as soon as I can find the damned thing!

Don't you just love all those cryptic error messages that pop up on your screen at seemingly the most inopportune times? "The Internet Explorer has detected an error. Your computer will now shut down." It does not shut down, but instead lulls you into a false sense of security by offering you what appears to be two options: Ok and Close This Window. The computer is again victim to a gauntlet of Catholic school yard slang when you discover that both options carry out the previous threat and shut down your computer.

Here is another especially lovely error message:
I don't know for sure, and maybe it is presumptuous of me, but isn't this the keyboard that my fingers are resting upon at this very moment? Even when I tap the CPU to get its attention and point at the keyboard, it insists it cannot find it. Trust me, picking up the keyboard and waving in front of the CPU does no good. "Hey, stupid! It's right here!"

You are then overcome with the epiphanous answer to your problems. Microsoft has learned that you aren't using the most recent upgrades in your computer. World domination does not mean that insignificant peoples are overlooked. After all, the sum of the parts equal the whole. Resistance is futile.

Then out of the blue, you get the following error message. You fear the worst, you are being assimilated. But then ....

(Click on the image for the full effect.)

I feel safe now that I have learned I am not Lost in Cyberspace. Sometimes, however, I feel that my mind is Lost in the Space between my ears.

No. 509

Friday, January 20, 2006

The Blog That Ate The Internet

Zero score and one year ago, I brought forth upon this internet a new blog, conceived in my head and dedicated to the proposition that all blogs are created equal.

Friends, bloggers and countrymen, I came not to bury websites, but to praise them.

To blog or not to blog, that is the question.

It was the best of blogs, it was the worst of blogs.

It was a dark and stormy blog.

SIGH! Blogger's block! I am having trouble coming up with an opening sentence.

I thought it would be easy to write this posting, it is a milestone after all. Maybe, I could have hired a belly dancer to liven up the celebration. Or maybe, I could have had a guest blogger like Alfred E. Newman. Perhaps, I could get a bunch of the ol' boys from W.Va. and have a real hoe-down!

On the first anniversary of my blog, I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge all of the readers and commenters who have stopped by during the year. Of course, it is to those who return day after day, that I am most grateful.

My posting, No.500, which curiously dealt with celebrating my 500th post, was in a way a preamble to the anniversary. Without going out on a limb, I can honestly say that the bloggers I have "met" and with whom I've swapped comments, I can call friends. I'd like to think that if we met in person, we would also be friends.

So, rather than praise myself and my accomplishment of blogging for a year, instead I will praise all of you. Without your patronage, none of his would have been possible.

I have found by skimming through my archives, that I have inadvertantly left behind a journal of sorts. While a lot of my postings are irreverent, there is a smattering of my life in chronological order, detailed in a way that my memory would not be able to reconstruct. I had forgotten that last winter the Boston area received nearly a hundred inches of snow. I didn't remember the setbacks that confounded me when I worked on our bathroom, or replaced floor boards in the back hall. I can recall the joy and beauty of my daughter's wedding, but the details of the things that went wrong leading up to her special day were fuzzy at best.

I didn't realize that inspite of myself, my blog in part has become an autobiography. Despite trying to write in complete anonymity, I have actually succeeded in baring my soul. Who I am, what I am, and where I am coming from can all be found in the words that have appeared on this site. At times persnickety, but always innocuous, this shell of a body harbors a clown. In another life, I might have been a court jester. In still another, there might have been a travelling minstrel. In this life? I am a man who tries to be funny, always looking for the lighter side of an otherwise overcast existence.

In the year to come, bear with me, laugh with me, laugh at me, but above all else - laugh at yourself. I do. You know what? It works! I have confidence, you readers gave it to me, that the year to come will be rife with guffaws, giggles, grins, and best of all - smiles.