Saturday, September 20, 2008

Pundering

Saturday POODLE DOODLES

The Truth is Out There


Dog Gone!


Hale's Contrived Word of the Day:

Punder - v.; to sit and think, to muse over a groan producing pun.

Punder this from Phils Phun:

So I heard the strangest thing on the radio yesterday.
It was an interview of a guy whose hobby was eating endangered birds.
He went into great detail of all the meals that he'd had -
bald eagle stew, deep fried condor wings, breast of kestrel, that kind of thing.
The interviewer then asks him,
"So have you eaten any egrets at all?"
"Egrets?" he said
"I've had a few. But then again, too few to munch on."

Here's a joke I also borrowed from Phil:

Military Research

A soldier at the Pentagon got out of the shower, and realized that his clothes were missing. While searching around for them, he accidentally locked himself out of the locker room, and he found himself completely naked in the halls of the world''s most powerful military organization HQ.

But, luckily, no one was around to see him. So, he ran as fast as he could to the elevator. When it arrived, it was empty. He breathed a sigh of relief and got in. When the doors opened on his floor, there was no one waiting outside.

"This must be my lucky day," he said to himself. He was now only a few yards from his office.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming from around the corner. He heard the General''s voice. There was no way he'd make it to his door in time, so he ducked into the closest office available, and found himself in the laboratory for Research & Development. The Head Scientist looked up from one of her experiments with puzzled interest.

The soldier thought quickly, stood up straight and saluted. "I am here to report the partial success of the Personal Invisibility Device," he said.

The Head Scientist said, "You mean the shrink-ray, don't you?"

The Real Story Behind Jed Clampett's Millions



Let me tell you the story about a man named Jed,

A poor accountant who hit his wife over the head.

Then one night while he was burying her in the soil

Son of a bitch if he didn't strike oil!

(Black gold ... Texas tea)

Well the next thing you know, Jed's a millionaire

And his lawyer said, Jed you'd better get away from there

New Zealand's the place you ought to be

So he bought a yacht and sailed off to sea.

(Kiwis ... Lonely sheep)

No.1470

Friday, September 19, 2008

Crud Carrying Member

The young
man nearly
fell over three
or four times
as the wind caught the cardboard sign stapled to a wooden stake he was holding. Emblazoned upon a red, white and blue background were the words: Johnson for Alderman.

I started bearing to the left so that I could pass by him on the sidewalk outside the city Post Office. The man moved to his right directly into my path.

Despite the scowl on my face he didn't bat an eyelash and said, "Are you registered to vote, sir?"

"Yes, of course. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get some stamps." I stepped off the sidewalk into the street so that I could get around his blockade.

I'm not sure if the gusts of wind caught the sail formed by his sign or if he deliberately moved into my path again.

He then went into his spiel, one which he probably stayed up half the night to memorize. "I'd like you to consider casting your vote for Ben Johnson for City Alderman today?"

I looked over his shoulder and saw a man locking the doors to the entrance to the Post Office. I glanced at my watch - 3:59 pm. A typical civil service employee, the man wasn't about to risk having any customers in the place past the 4:00 closing time.

Okay, I thought, if he wants to play games ...

"Ben Johnson is running for Alderman, is he? Isn't he the sprinter who had his gold medals taken away because he used steroids?"

He looked at me and said with a nervous twitch on his upper lip, "Uh, no! He ..."

I didn't let him finish and fired my guns again, "This Johnson fellow, is he an uncle? An older brother? Neighbor? Friend of the family?"

"No. None of those," he sniped.

"Oh? Then you don't really know him."

"Well, yes. I do know him. He's my father." He actually raised his chest in pride.

"I see," I winked at him. "Nepotism is alive and well. So ... young Johnson, if daddy is elected to what job are you expecting to be appointed?"

"There's no job. I have to go to school," he answered.

I sensed that this young man's enthusiasm was beginning to wane. "Ah, you must be a Civics major ... Government ..."

"I'm a junior in high school. I'm not in college."

I was grinning at the poor kid by then, "You're not even old enough to vote, are you?" He shook his head and I added, "I hope your old man is paying you pretty good for walking around in the cold with his sign."

"He's my father. I don't get paid to do this," he said. I noted that his chest was deflated at that point.

"Ah, he's probably using the money he's saving not paying you, so he can give the other people carrying his signs more bucks."

I thought he was going to start crying. I decided to ease up on him. "Don't worry kid, you're father's not going to lose a vote because you made me miss getting my stamps."

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that. I'm sorry you didn't get your stamps," he offered.

"No problem. Your father won't lose my vote - because he never had it in he first place! You see, I'm not registered to vote in Malden. I live in Everett."

I turned and walked away. His sign was hanging loosely in his hand dragging on the ground. I thought to my self, "Nice kid, misguided, but a nice kid." I glanced back at him and saw that the sign was still on the ground. His head was bent down looking at it. That'll teach him to impede someone trying to get to the Post Office before it closes.

My smug little victory faded from my thoughts. Damn elections anyway! November will be here before I know it. McCain? Or Obama? Palin? Or Biden?

The irony of it all! I don't really LIKE any of them! Do you suppose if they reran the Primaries that maybe there would be different choices?


I have poked fun at the candidates in my Blog, but I don't necessarily like OR dislike any of them. None of them have impressed me either.

Maybe this is the year I again sign my name on the petition for the elimination of the Electoral College and forgo a vote for the President. It is beginning to look like the better option - at least for me!

A friend once said that was a cruddy outlook. I just shrugged - after all I am a crud carrying member.

I've been a member since 1948, the day I was born. I never leave home without it!

No.1469

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Follow That Blog Cab

FOLLOW THAT BLOG!

See that widget over there to your right at the top of my sidebar? It's a new Blogger feature. Won't you please click on the link "follow this blog" and declare yourself one of my disciples followers? I'll gladly return the favor.
Hey, come on, babe
Follow me
I'm the Pied Piper
Follow me
I'm the Pied Piper
And I'll show you where it's at
Come on, babe
Can't you see
I'm the Pied Piper
Trust in me
I'm the Pied Piper
And I'll show you where it's at

-(Crispian St. Peter)
I will follow Him, follow Him wherever He may go,
There isn't an ocean too deep,
A mountain so high, it can keep,
Keep me away...
-(Little Peggy March)

Follow That Car

We've all seen this scene in the movies and TV:

The villain speeds off in a car. The hero, close behind, flags down the nearest taxi, gets in and, pointing at the car, says "Follow that car!". And thus, the Chase Scene begins. (The phrase can also be "Follow that cab!")

Of course, the phrase has often become a gag:

In The Naked Gun, Frank Drebin does this, but discovers that the car he has flagged down is part of a driving lesson.

In Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid, Steve Martin thinks he's being followed, and decides to dash away in a taxi. There are two cabs in line. He gives a wad of cash to the first driver and tells him a destination; the driver speeds off without him. Momentarily nonplussed, he then hops into the second taxi and tells the driver to "Follow that cab!" He settles back into the seat with a smirk on his face, congratulating himself on taking both cabs so the man following him would be stranded.

Parodied in The Return of the Pink Panther: the cabbie responds to Inspector Clouseau's command by climbing out of the cab and chasing the car on foot.

In A Shot in the Dark: Clouseau instructs the police car that brought him here to go back to town. He should have remembered to get in the car first...

In Taxi, a Cowboy Cop says this to the cabdriver... who happens to be an aspiring stock car racer with a Cool Car, and has, of course, been waiting for someone to say that.

In one Daffy Duck cartoon, The Great Piggy-Bank Robbery, Daffy runs up to a cab and says, "Follow that car!" The cab zooms off by itself, and Daffy remarks to the audience, "Keeps 'em on their toes."

Parodied in Douglas Adams's unfinished book, The Salmon Of Doubt: Dirk Gently meets a cabbie who has never had anyone tell him to "follow that cab". Thus, he infers, his must be the cab that everyone else is following.

Comedian George Carlin once suggested this scheme for having fun on a day in the city; "Hail a cab. Give the driver $50 and tell him to drive to the airport and wait for you there. As soon as he pulls away, hail the very next cab. Jump in and tell the driver, 'Follow that cab, and no matter what, make sure it DOESN'T get to the airport!'"

In the final episode of season 2 of The Amazing Race, each pair had to board an airplane to a target designated by their clue card. One of the pairs lost their clue, prompting them to tell the pilot to "follow that plane!"


Follow That Blog!

- I always wanted to say that.

-The reader is a drive-by visitor and leaves.

No.1468

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Romancin' Rosetta Stone

You have to love those "Romance Languages."

I love to listen to the French and Spanish peoples speaking broken English. It can be quite a challenge trying to carry on a conversation with them. Sometimes it can be somewhat perplexing to convey a particular thought, especially if there is no equivalent word in the other language.

It was by design that I omitted the third Romance Language, Italian, from the previous paragraph. The reason for that is that I have far more experience dealing with people from Italy. My wife of thirty-six years is of Italian lineage, though she born in the States. (She's also half Irish, but that's another story.)

Imagine if you will, a hillbilly hick from the hills of West Virginia being invited to share an Easter Sunday feast in Boston with the family of a girl he'd been dating for only about three months. Picture this nervous hillbilly sitting down to break bread with the family. He is being suspiciously studied by the girl's father and mother, her two older brothers and their wives, as well as her six nieces and nephews.
During the introductions you can probably see the look of surprise on the father's face when his "Buon Giorno" is responded to with a hearty twang of "Howdy Y'all!" You can probably hear the reactionary giggles from around the table too.

That was my first encounter with my future wife's family. I wasn't certain then if I was being interrogated or if they were just fascinated by my then thick drawl. Looking back on that Easter of 1969, I did provide them with a humorous ending to the meal, and I would be reminded of it for many years after the fact.

Her mother asked me, "How did you like the meal?" As innocent and as natural as can be I replied, "Y'all folks sure make some mighty fine victuals up heyah!"
The family spoke English but would speak Italian at times, maybe so I wouldn't know what they were saying? I had, however, taken a Latin course and as such could pick out a few words here and there. In time I studied Italian on my own to the point I could at least read a some of it. I never learned to speak Italian, but I was able to communicate a little.


I'm now going to turn this post over to my Blogger alter ego, Cletus Clyde. You see, it appears that good ol' boy done went and learnt some "Aye-talian."
Howdy, folks. Yup, it's true. Bein' edumacated and all, I figgered it wuz nigh time I learnt me some foreign talkin'. It jest so happens they wuz an Aye-talian feller a visitin' some folks over in the next holler.

So I skedaddled over yonder to see iffin I might learn some Aye-talian talkin' from him. It took me till I wuz seventeen to get through the sixth grade but I didn't learn no furrin language. Hells bells, I a'ready knowed me some Aye-talian words like spaghetti, and Joe DiMaggio, and Mario Andretti and chow.

But I always heared tell that Aye-talian was s'posed to be one of them romancin' languages. Well, I tried usin' the words I knowed on some them girls 'round these parts, but they didn't appear to think they wuz so romantical.

Anyways, I found that Aye-talian feller and commenced to talkin' with him. His name wuz Giuseppe Gillespie. When I said his last name didn't sound Aye-talian like, he said his mother was Aye-talian and his father was a Gillespie from Ohio.

He said his Aye-talian talkin' wasn't none too good, but he said he knew of a surefire way that I could learn to speak it iffin I was so inclined. I ain't none too sure how lyin' down could help one speak Aye-talian, but I said I would hear him out.

He said to me, he said, "You wanna learn Aye-talian talkin'? Then you gotta get Rosetta Stone." I wuz amazed and I said back to him, I said, "That's all they is to it?" He said, "Yup. That's all it takes."

I bought him a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon and lickety-split I wuz on my way through the hollers and over the hills to the next ridge. It jest so happens they's a purty gal over yonder by the name of Rosetta Stone.

All my buddies told me that she wuz an uppity gal and that she ain't been none too receptive to most of the fellers what made passes at her. Well, all I wuz a wantin' was to learn some Aye-talian from her. I figgered iffin I wuz a good 'nuf learner, then mebbe I could use some of those romantical words on her and make her receptive to me.

Purty soon I wuz a wrasslin' with her on the ground out back of her pappy's barn. She wuz a-kickin' and a-swearin' up a storm even though I wuz a whisperin' words like spumoni and pepperoni pizza in her ears.

It wuz jest 'bout the same time that she wuz a-stoppin' fightin' so much that her Paw grabs me by the scruff of the neck and my bib overalls. He then throwed me down the hillside into a dried up crick. I looked up and he wuz a jumpin' up 'n down and a shoutin'. So figgerin' he was trying to say goodbye in Aye-talian, I waved to him and shouted, "A-river Dirty," that's Aye-talian for goodbye.
So Cletus, that's how you come to learn to speak Italian. You used Rosetta Stone. Why not tell the readers about your Italian trip?
Sure thing. I didn't really go to Italy. I only had a hunnert dollars and they wanted a considerable sum more than that iffin I wanted to go to Italy. So I took a bus ride over to Huntington. They's some Aye-talians what all live in one part of town called Little Italy.

I checked into a fancy hotel. Damn expensive place too. It cost me a sawbuck a night to stay there! Anyways, after I got all settled in, I decided I'd best check out their eatin' place and get me some breakfast. That place musta been one of them tourist traps! Gosh-a-mighty, they musta thought I wuz made outta money. They wanted two dollars for three eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast and coffee!

◊ So I practiced talkin' Aye-talian and told the waitress, "I wanna two pieces a toast." But then she showed up with a plate and only one piece of toast.
◊ I said to her, "I wanna two piece."
◊ She said to me, "Then go to the toilet."
◊ I said to her, "NO, you no understand. I wanna two piece onna plate."
◊ She got real mad and said, "You better not piece onna plate, you son-ama-bitch!"

◊ Well, I had to do without breakfast and decided to go to my room and take a nap. But when I got up there, they wuz no sheet on my bed. So I called up the manager.
◊ I said to him "I wanna sheet."
◊ "Then go to the toilet," he answered.
◊ "No," I said, "You no understand. I wanna sheet onna bed."
◊ He musta been mad too coz he said, "You better not sheet onna bed you son-ama-bitch."

◊ It was late in the afternoon when I started getting hungry again. So I went back down to that same eatin' place to get some lunch.
◊ When the waitress set the table she put down a spoon and a knife next to the plate. But she forgot the fork.
◊ So I said to her, "I wanna fock."
◊ And she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Everybody wanna fock."
◊ I sad, "No, you know understand. I wanna fock onna table."
◊ I tell you, it seems like everybody at that hotel was mad about somethin' cos she said, "You better not fock onna table, you son-ama-bitch."

◊ Well that was about all I could take of Aye-talian hospitality. So I went up stairs and gathered my stuff and threw it in my suitcase.
◊ When I got to the front desk to check out there wuz no one there. So I rung the bell.
◊ The man came out and said to me, "Peace on you."
◊ It was me who was mad by then and I said, "Peace on you, you son-ama-bitch!"
Yes, you have to love those Romance Languages - especially Appalachian!

No.1467

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Viagra - Ad Slogans

This Idea I "Borrowed" From Miss Cellania

To promote production in an ad agency, the CEO asked his staff to come up with slogans for Viagra using slogans that were used by other products.

10. Viagra, Whaazzzz up!

9. Viagra, The quicker pecker picker upper.

8. Viagra, like a rock !

7. Viagra, When it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.

6 Viagra, Be all that you can be.

5. Viagra, Reach out and touch someone.

4. Viagra, Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman.

3. Viagra, Home of the whopper!

2. Viagra, We bring good things to Life!
And the unanimous number one slogan:
1. This is your peepee. This is your peepee on drugs.


I saw this as a challenge to see if I could come up [sic] with some more possible slogans for this product.

Viagra, It takes a licking and keeps on ticking. (Timex)

Viagra, Let Your Man Out. (Full Throttle)

Viagra, Make it a blockbuster night. (Blockbuster)

Viagra, It won't let you down. (Degree Deodorant)

Viagra, The Ultimate Driving Machine (BMW)

Viagra, It keeps going .. and going .. and going (Energizer)

Viagra, Onward, Upward. (Hot Jobs dot com)

Viagra, Where do you want it today? (Microsoft)

Viagra, Once you pop, you can't stop. (Pringles)

Then I got to thinking that maybe Viagra could use a jingle:

Up, Up and Away - Fifth Dimension
Get On Up - the Esquires
Up Where We Belong - Joe Cocker & Jennifer Warren
Easy (To Be Hard) - Three Dog Night
I Am a Rock - Simon & Garfunkle
Monster in My Pants - B-52s

No.1466

Monday, September 15, 2008

Textual Relations


I'm sitting here filling out an online job application. When I found the factoid at the left, I thought to myself, "Now there's a job with some awesome benefits." Besides, I always wanted to go south for the winter.
---------------------------------------

A lady called her gynecologist, and asked for an "emergency" appointment. The receptionist said to come right in. She rushed to the office, and was ushered right into an examination room. The doctor came into the exam room and asked about her problem.

She was very shy about her emergency problem, and asked the gynecologist to please examine her vagina.

So the doctor started to examine her. He stuck up his head after completing his examination. "I'm sorry, Miss," he said, "but removing that vibrator is going to involve a very lengthy , delicate and expensive surgical operation."

"I'm not sure I can afford it," sighed the young woman. "But while I am here could you just replace the batteries? "
---------------------------------------


An extraordinarily handsome man decided he had the responsibility to marry an extraordinarily beautiful woman so they could produce gorgeous children beyond compare.

With that as his mission he began to search for the perfect woman.

Shortly thereafter he met a Redneck who had three stunning, gorgeous daughters that positively took his breath away. So he explained his mission to the Redneck and asked for permission to marry one of them.

"Well," the Redneck simply replied, "they're all lookin' to get married, so you came to the right place. Why don't you look 'em over and pick the one you want?"

The man was ecstatic, and decided to take each one out to dinner to size them all up. The first night he dated the first daughter. The next day the Redneck asked for the man's opinion.

"Well," said the man, "she's just a wee bit -- not that you can hardly notice -- pigeon-toed."

The Redneck nodded and suggested the man date one of the other girls; so the man went out with the second daughter.

The next day, the Redneck again asked how things went.

"Well," the man replied, "she's just a wee bit -- not that you can hardly tell -- cross-eyed."

The Redneck nodded and suggested he date the third girl to see if things might be better. So he did.

The next morning the man rushed in exclaiming, "She's perfect, just perfect! She's the one I want to marry."

The redneck gave his blessing, so the couple was wed immediately. Months later their first baby was born. When the man visited the nursery he was horrified: the baby was the ugliest, most pathetic human you can imagine. He rushed to his father-in-law and asked how such a thing could happen considering the beauty of the parents.

"Well," explained the Redneck, "she was just a wee bit -- not that you could hardly tell -- pregnant when you met her."

---------------------------------------

As you lie back your muscles tighten. You put him off for a while searching for an excuse, but he refuses to be swayed as he approaches you.

He asks if you're afraid and you shake your head bravely. He has had more experience, but it's the first time his finger has found the right place.

He probes deeply and you shiver; your body tenses; but he's gentle like he promised he'd be.

He looks deeply within your eyes and tells you to trust him-he's done this many times before.

His cool smile relaxes you and you open wider to give him more room for an easy entrance. You begin to plead and beg him to hurry, but he slowly takes his time, wanting to cause you as little pain as possible. As he presses closer, going deeper, you feel the tissue give way; pain surges throughout your body and you feel the slight trickle of blood as he continues. He looks at you concerned and asks you if it's too painful. Your eyes are filled with tears but you shake your head and nod for him to go on. He begins going in and out with skill but you are now too numb to feel him within you.

After a few moments, you feel something bursting within you and he pulls it out of you, you lay panting, glad to have it over. He looks at you and smiling warmly, tells you, with a chuckle; that you have been his most stubborn yet most rewarding experience.

You smile and thank your dentist. After all, it was your first time to have a tooth pulled.

Naughty, Naughty!
---------------------------------

We know you're marrying her for her money ...

Have you no respect?

What's with that tacky pink tie?

No.1465

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Pray For the Victims of Ike

Sunday POODLE DOODLES

Calm Seas - Part 1

Calm Seas - Part 2


Our Prayers Needed in Wake of Hurricane Ike


Texas — seven dead, including a person found in a submerged vehicle in Galveston and a 4-year-old Houston boy, of apparent carbon monoxide poisoning from an emergency generator.

Louisiana — six dead, including a 16-year-old boy trapped in rising flood waters.

Tennessee — two dead, both golfers killed by a falling tree.

Arkansas — one dead when a tree fell on a mobile home.

Ohio — three dead, including one who died when a tree fell on a home.

Indiana — four dead, a father and son killed helping children escape from a ditch.

Illinois — two dead, including an elderly man found in a flooded backyard.

Businesses and homes can be rebuilt. Not so human lives.

No.1464

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Obomer Pyle

Saturday POODLE DOODLES

One Day At the Beach

High Tide


I thought when I first saw McCain and Obama in a photo together that they reminded me of someone. A duo, some comedy team, perhaps?

Laurel & Hardy? Abbot & Costello? Lewis & Martin? Beavis and Butthead?


Then it hit me! Sgt. Carter and Gomer Pyle!

Obomer Pyle, USMC*
*Unqualified Senatorial Muslim Cur

Sgt. McCain: Pyle, get down and give me twenty!
Pfc Obomer: Well, gaw-ollllll-y! Shazam, shazam!

Sgt. McCain: What the hell? Why are you dancing, Pyle?
Pfc Obomer: Well gaw-oll-y, Sgt. McCain. You told me to get down.

Sgt. McCain: Pyle! Why are you not saluting the flag?
Pfc Obomer: I'm a fence sitter, Sarge. I don't take sides.

Sgt. McCain: You're defending your country, Pyle. You have to take a side!
Pfc Obomer: Then I'll take a side of fries.

Sgt. McCain: Private, if I kick you out of the Marines, what would you do?
Pfc Obomer: Shazam, shazam! I'll become a lawyer!

Sgt. McCain: Pyle, you idiot. Even a lawyer has to take sides.
Pfc Obomer: No, Sarge. I'll just settle out of court.

Sgt. McCain: What kind of name is "Obomer" anyway, Pyle?
Pfc Obomer: Obomer is an Arabic-Swahili-Chicago street slang word. It means "camel."

Sgt. McCain: Camel Pyle. I should've guessed.

No.1463

Friday, September 12, 2008

The White House or the Big House?




Where There's Smoke There's Usually
Fire
!



Yesterday I showed my patriotism with my actions when I shoved a woman to the ground in yesterday's post . (Please reserve your opinions of that action until you've read that post.)

Today, I want to show my patriotism with my words.

Before I use my own words, I want to share some words I borrowed from Mushy over at The Silverbacks.
Obama the Patriot

'LT. Bill Ginn' USAF, retired, as stated:

Hot on the heels of his explanation for why he no longer wears a flag pin, presidential candidate Senator Barack Obama was forced to explain why he doesn't follow protocol when the National Anthem is played.

According to the United States Code, Title 36, Chapter 10, Sec. 171...During rendition of the national anthem when the flag is displayed, all present except those in uniform are expected to stand at attention facing the flag with the right hand over the heart.

'As I've said about the flag pin, I don't want to be perceived as taking sides,' Obama said. 'There are a lot of people in the world to whom the American flag is a symbol of oppression. And the anthem itself conveys a war like message. You know, the bombs bursting in air and all. It should be swapped for something less parochial and less bellicose. I like the song 'I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing.' If that were our anthem, then I might salute it.'

*WHAAAAAAAT!!!*

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this could possibly be our next president. I, for one, am speechless.

Let's Teach The World About This Idiot!

Like Mushy, I was speechless, but for only the amount of time it took for my blood to reach the boiling point.

Bear with me as I attempt to break down that "gem" of a response:


"As I've said about the flag pin, I don't want to be perceived as taking sides."
Taking sides? You're an American. You're already on a side! You are an American citizen, aren't you? Has anyone ever thought to verify the authenticity of your birth certificate? Someone should get on that right away!
"There are a lot of people in the world to whom the American flag is a symbol of oppression."
There a lot of people in the world who eat dog meat. There are a lot of oppressed people in the world who have been brain-washed to think it is acceptable to kill innocent people with suicide bombers. There are a lot of people in the world who would be executed for making such a stupid statement.
"And the anthem itself conveys a warlike message. You know, the bombs bursting in air and all."
Well yes, Fort Sumter was being attacked and through it all the flag was still standing. You did take history in school, didn't you? Were you paying attention, or were you reading "Arabian Nights?"
"It should be swapped for something less parochial and less bellicose."
parochial, adj. restricted to a small area or scope; narrow; limited; provincial

bellicose, adj. of a quarrelsome or hostile nature; eager to fight or quarrel; warlike

Of course the anthem is parochial, numb nuts. It was written for a nation called The United States of America. Yes, it is bellicose. It was written for a nation willing to fight for its right to exist as a free country. I suppose you'd also prefer something less patriotic too.

May I offer you a couple more words to add to your vocabulary? Try these on for size: loyal and patriotic.
"I like the song 'I'd Like To Teach the World To Sing.' If that were our anthem, then I might salute it."
You might, might you?

I am not totally convinced that "I'd Like To Teach the World To Sing" is on your iPod. Surely you can come up with a better anthem than that! Let me help.

Perhaps more to your liking you'd opt for one of these choices: "Midnight at the Oasis," or "Rock the Casbah." Wait! I got it ... "Ahab the Arab."

Barry ... Barry ... Barry ... You're a real Yankee Doodle Dandy Doozy!

Do you like word association tests?
Patriotism - The White House
Treason - The Big House
You are extinguishing your own flames. You've met the enemy ... And he is you!

No.1462

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Remember 9/11? Hell Yes I Do!


Today ... I shoved a young woman to the ground!

I cursed at her!

In anger!

And the crowd applauded.

... All because she was exercising her right to freedom of speech.

Someday I might regret those actions, but I hope not, and certainly NOT today. On another day, I might have ignored her words - but NOT today! Someday I might choose to apologize, but I doubt it - and it would NOT be today!

This particular morning, as has been the case the past seven mornings that have fallen on this date, television was providing images of memorial services which were being held at Ground Zero in New York City, the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and on a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

This morning was no different than the previous Sept. 11 memorials. I was deeply touched. I was saddened at the images of surviving friends and families of those who were lost on that tragic day. My own eyes shared their tears.

I placed an American flag on my truck's antenna and headed off to work. Along the way I stopped at a convenience store to pick up the newspaper. Across the street was a small public park. There were several patriotic signs, red-white-and-blue banners and American flags on display.

What appeared to be about a hundred people were gathered around a small stage. A small group of musicians sat in chairs on the field to the left of the stage and were playing America the Beautiful. Several police officers were milling about the crowd.

I decided to pick up a cup of coffee along with the newspaper. I tossed the paper in my truck and crossed the street to check out the public display of patriotism. It was nice to see that small town paying homage to Sept. 11. Perhaps one day, this day will be made a National Holiday.

I was about ten feet from the stage when a pretty young woman approached a microphone. I couldn't helped but notice that she was of some Middle Eastern origin. Of which nationality she might have been, I had no idea. They all look the same to me. (Yes, I'm echoing sentiments once used four and five decades ago.)

She was an eloquent speaker. (I will paraphrase from memory as best I can her words.)
"On this sad day, September eleven, two thousand and eight, you are here to honor and to remember those innocent men and women who died on this date seven years ago.

I am here to remember and to remind you that there were those of the faith of Islam who also perished on this date seven years ago."
She paused and looked around at the people there and smiled at the sound of scattered applause. I just nodded. I remembered reading that there were some Muslims who worked and died in the World Trade Center towers.
"Like the others who died that day, they did not choose to die tragic deaths. Unlike the others, they were chosen."
WTF? There were several gasps around me and people were looking at each other quizzically.
"They did not choose to be aboard those planes. They were chosen to carry out the wishes of Allah."
There were some "f-bombs" being shouted from the back of the crowd. Someone threw a bottle of water which barely missed hitting her in the head.
"They entered the cockpits of those planes by the will of Allah. They must not be forgotten."

I don't know if it was an emotional response. Maybe it was the developing mob mentality. Whatever the force that drove me, it was laced with anger at the audacity of that woman.

I leaped easily the two feet from the ground onto the stage. I slammed the coffee cup and what was left of its hot contents at her feet. Almost nose to nose I yelled at her:
"How dare you! We are here to honor American victims - not f**kin' terrorists! There is no honor in the will of your Allah!"
With that, I shoved her away from the mike. She fell backward and landed on her rear end. She tried to keep her skirt from riding up even as her momentum was rolling her onto her back. She then rolled off the stage onto the ground face down. I saw that she was unable to control the upward shift of her skirt. (I mused, wondering if Allah would approve of such a tiny pink thong.) I clenched my fists and yelled at her again:
"If you want to honor your suicide cowards, do it elsewhere. Not here! Not today!"
I was beginning to cool off a bit when I realized the people in the crowd were applauding. They were applauding me! I blushed and pulled off my cap which was emblazoned with the head of an eagle against the background of the American flag on the front of it, and acknowledged the crowd.

It suddenly sunk in what I had just done. I began to panic and jumped off the stage. I remembered that there were police officers there, so I decided I should beat it the hell out of there.

I was too late, one of the cops was in my path. He said to me, "She might try to charge you with assault, sir. I didn't see which way you went." He had a big grin on his face. He stepped aside and started clapping his hands and said, "Good job. Now get out of here."

Who am I to argue with an officer of the law? BY the time I was moving along in my truck the people who had been on the field were exiting the park en masse. The other policemen were stopping traffic both ways to allow the pedestrians to cross. A hand rapped against my window. It was the same officer who'd sent me on my way.

He pointed at my cap. I removed it and tossed on the floor board. I rolled down the window. He said, "If you end up in court, I'll testify that I saw the man who assaulted her and that you were not he."

I drove away and experienced and otherwise normal routine the rest of the day. It did cross my mind that somewhere in that crowd today, there might have been someone with a camera or a camcorder. My atypical act of patriotism just may have been captured. I can only hope that it does not show up as a picture in a local newspaper - or perish the thought, as a video on Utube.

Twelve hours have passed and so far I have felt no regret or guilt.

God bless America. Land that I love...


Some of you might not appreciate my display of patriotic pride. If you do or don't, the following might fill you with a sense of pride:


USS NEW YORK
(Artist's Rendering)


It was built with 24 tons of scrap steel from the World Trade Center.

It is the fifth in a new class of warship - designed for missions that include special operations against terrorists. It will carry a crew of 360 sailors and 700 combat-ready Marines to be delivered ashore by helicopters and assault craft.



Steel from the World Trade Center was melted down in a foundry in Amite, LA to cast the ship's bow section. When it was poured into the molds on Sept 9, 2003, "those big rough steelworkers treated it with total reverence," recalled Navy Capt. Kevin Wensing, who was there. "It was a spiritual moment for everybody there."

Junior Chavers, foundry operations manager, said that when the trade center steel first arrived, he touched it with his hand and the "hair on my neck stood up." "It had a big meaning to it for all of us," he said. "They knocked us down. They can't keep us down. We're going to be back."

The ship's motto?

'Never Forget'


I'll Never Forget!


No.1461

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Crawl Low and Carry a Little Stick

Walk tall and carry a big stick. - Buford Pusser

In this age of "political correctness," it seems that the road to the 2008 Presidential election process has been paved with thumbtacks!

It's as if the candidates are wearing upon their feet fashionable banana peelings while walking on eggshells scattered upon thin ice as they traipse perilously close to the edge of an open grave.

I cannot remember an election where as much emphasis and attention has been placed on a Presidential candidate and an opposing Vice-Presidential hopeful. As such their trek is fraught with signs of hazardous driving.

On one hand we have a Presidential candidate who is a black male, of questionable Muslim heritage and has little of the experience required for the job. On the other hand, we have a white female, a questionable good mother of an unwed pregnant teenage daughter, and who is also perceived to lack experience.

I guess the public, we the voters, should ignore the issues of their lack of experience - because it is painfully clear they are ignoring it. They appear to be focused more on an issue that I have never given a second thought, the application of lipstick upon on bulldogs and pigs.

What's next heifers or moose?

We can only hope they move on to other issues before they start making references to the lips on chickens!

With luck and assuming common sense will prevail in the end, PC awareness should spare us from dalliances into racial and chauvinistic areas of insensitivity.

Maybe Obama will crawl low and carry a little stick and if he doesn't, perhaps Sarah can put on her big girl panties and deal with it.

No.1460

Monday, September 08, 2008

Echoes of Eddie -35

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

Its bluish tints dancing and twinkling like stars the wraith came to rest floating only inches from his face. Steve smiled, for some reason he knew there was nothing to dread. Then it was gone!

"What the hell?" David said, a quizzical look on his face. He knelt beside George's unmoving form. He looked back at Steve and said, "Breathing ... he's still alive, but barely. A stroke?"

"He was afraid of something. He saw whatever it was coming at him," Agnes said.

"Saw what?" asked Catherine. "I didn't see anything. Did anyone of you see anything?"

To a person everyone, including Agnes, shook their heads. They were still shaken by the ordeal George had put them through ever since he'd arrived on the scene. There was a sense of relief etched on their faces.

"Maybe it was ... Eddie's ghost," Marjorie whispered. "Eddie got his revenge."

Steve turned and faced them, "If you haven't figured it out by now, I was working with Sam. I earned George's trust as part of our plan."

"Plan?" Tiffany interjected. "What plan? You mean you were a part of bringing out all our dirty little secrets?"

Steve nodded, "I just wanted the truth about Eddie's death to come out." It was Sam and George, each with their own agendas, who wanted to air the dirty laundry." He paced to right and continued, "It was George who wanted revenge. We didn't want anyone to be harmed."

Agnes was shaking her head sadly, "All those kids had to die? All because George wanted revenge for Eddie?"

"Steven ... Jack? What happened to Jack? Where is he? Is he ...?" Catherine implored of him.

"Sam is rushing him to hospital as we speak. I don't know how he is, sis."

"Sam was shot. We saw it happen," Marjorie said. "...And you David. He shot you too!"

"It might have been lost on you, but George swapped guns with David earlier," Steven said. "He thought he was going to frame David when he thought he shot me or Jack on the hillside. His shot grazed Charlie's arm instead. If you'll remember, the gun David was using was loaded with blanks."

"All of this ... All those deaths .. Because of our pact?" Hunter asked. "All because we ... I was concerned about ... My reputation and record?" He looked up at Steve with a repentant eye. "We were young and scared. We did the wrong thing. We made a mistake. Does that mean we have to die?"

"Hunter, it was I who wanted the truth of that night to be revealed. It wasn't fair to Eddie's family. I've had nightmares ever since that night."

David stepped forward and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, "If you haven't guessed by now, I'm David ... Cooper. I'm Steve's little brother who supposedly drowned the night George, our father hung himself. My sister Catherine knows who I am."

Steve nodded at David, "You see, George was looking to avenge what he perceived to be a wrong done against him. Because he was obviously stark raving mad, we had to keep David's identity secret. Somehow he made enough connections with the good mayor and Hunter's father, to name two, that he learned about the circumstances around Eddie's death."

Tiffany rushed over to Mayor Alyson and forcibly yanked the diary from his grasp. He tried to grab it from her but she shoved him aside. "It was this god damned diary, wasn't it?"

Steve nodded, "Yes, that diary. When he read what was written in the diary, it made George's mission of revenge twofold. He decided he would get revenge for himself and for Eddie. As far as he was concerned, Eddie was his only son. Jack and I had betrayed him, thus we too were expendable."

"Then why did he trust you to help him, Steve?" Tiffany asked.

"He needed someone close to Sam. He wasn't sure what Sam was up to. He was afraid Sam would ruin his plans. I convinced him totally that I shared in his desire for revenge in Eddie's name."

A voice called out from beyond the stand of trees. It was Sam. When he was in their midst he said, "Jack's going to survive. He's in critical condition. He lost a lot of blood and he'll probably lose a lung, but he'll make it." He found Tiffany and added, "He wanted me to make sure you knew."

Sam looked upon the subdued George with wonder. His stare was returned by a glare of hatred. The look upon the man's face was one of someone who had been scared half to death.

Steve said to him, "Sam, I think all those ghosts got the better of him."

Sam looked at Charlie, "Well, we have one more thing to take care of before you do your thing and call for some backup." Sensing the surprise on some the faces he said, "Charlie here has been acting as an under cover witness. He's a detective for the Tennessee State Police Department."

"Then you heard his confession to the murders," Catherine said. She smiled as he produced a small recording device from beneath his shirt.

"We'll also be reviewing some improprieties involving both Mr. Cooper's death and that of Eddie Nolan's death. Falsifying death reports is crime also." He looked over at Mayor Alyson and said to him, "I trust, Mr. Mayor that you have a good attorney."

Agnes stepped between Sam and Steve and asked, "Does this mean you're going to put Eddie back where he belongs?"

"Yes, Agnes. I think Eddie's been restless for too long."

Steve frowned, "My nightmares weren't because of Eddie's death that night." He lowered his head, "We wanted to protect him, to spare him the indignity of having George violate his rest." He looked up and faced them, "Five years ago Sam and I removed Eddie's body from his grave. We placed his body in another grave."

Marjorie seemed to be horrified at the thought,"But, why?"

Sam tried to smile as he answered, "Because we knew it was what George was planning to do. We decided that when George opened the grave ... It should be empty. It played into his whole scheme about ghosts. We even smashed a hole in the coffin lid from the inside to make it look like ... Eddie broke out."

Steve spoke again, "I was sick when we were opening the grave. For the past five years, I've having a nightmare. Eddie's hand ... His decayed hand was reaching out and grabbing me ... Pulling me in there with him." He paused and choke back a lump that had formed in his throat, "Even though I felt Sam and I were doing the right thing, for the right reasons, It's been eating at me ever since."

Agnes pulled hard on Steve's arm, "Where did you put him. I've never noticed any fresh graves all these years."

"Where else? Sam replied, "But in an empty grave?"

Agnes, in spite of her anguish had to stifle a laugh, "You don't mean ...?"

"Yep," Steve said. "In the one grave George wouldn't touch. His own grave."

"NO!" The hoarse voice nearby startled them. Although weakened by a stroke, George was very much alive and had been listening to their every word.

After retrieving a couple of shovels from the grave that had already been disturbed, Sam and Steve set about at their solemn task and began to open the grave marked "George Cooper." For reasons they themselves couldn't fathom everyone gathered around where Sam and Steve labored.

After a half hour they began pulling the coffin from the ground. Agnes was fumbling through her pocket book looking for something. Finally she produced a photograph. She handed it to Steve. It was a close up picture from the funeral of Eddie's body lying in state within the coffin. Steve choked back some tears as he looked at the face of his old best friend. Although his glasses were obviously missing, he looked good in the shiny black suit.

"Steven," she said, "I believe that the dead can come back. I believe Eddie came back to make things right."

His discomfort at her remark evident, Steve smiled and placed his arm around her shoulder. "Perhaps. Perhaps in this case, you may be right."

"I wish to say goodbye to him again, Sam. Please open the coffin so I can look upon my son for the last time."

She ignored their protests and insisted that she wanted the coffin opened. Sam complied and began to pry the lid open. There was an otherworldly protest of the scraping metal and the shovel against the casket lid. Finally there was a gush of air and the lid separated from its seal.

She seemed not to be bothered by the acrid aroma of the corpse within. In the pale moonlight the body seemed peaceful and at rest. Despite the decay of ten years, there seemed to be smile on what remained of the mummified lips.

Steve had not wanted to see the body but was compelled to turn and look into the coffin nonetheless. All seemed to be right with Agnes as she knelt in silent prayer. Steve stiffened in fear. His body was trembling.

He walked away seeking a place to be alone with his thoughts. Even as Sam and the others removed the broken coffin from the first grave and finally returned Eddie to where he belonged, Steve kept his distance. He didn't know if he should be afraid, relieved or forgiven. He chanced a furtive glance in Agnes' direction. She returned his glance with a nod and a smile. She knew. Her lips were moving and although he couldn't hear her words he knew that she was saying, "Eddie forgives you."

He was still clutching the photograph from Eddie's funeral. He didn't need to look at it again. He didn't need to see the black suit. He didn't need to see that he was interred without his glasses.

It would forever be etched in his mind as he looked upon Eddie when Agnes was praying for him. He looked at peace in his favorite blue suit. Even though they were broken, he looked more natural wearing his glasses.

No.1459

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Drug Me!

Sunday POODLE DOODLES

In the Bag

I'm hoping it was just a 24-hour bug. I woke up his morning feeling awful. I felt like crap all day long! It seemed like every joint and every muscle in my body was throbbing in pain. My body felt hot all over - a fever?

My sinuses were running rampant, more so than usual. Next I began to experience chills. If I covered my self with a blanket - I was hot! If I removed the blanket - I was cold! All the while the aches in my body persisted.

All day long I kept drifting in and out of sleep even though I was sitting in an upright position on the sofa. When I did get up, to hit the head or to get a drink, my movements were stiff and painful. On at least three occasions I tried to down a cup of coffee only managing a sip or two before drifting off to sleep again.

I was so looking forward to this weekend - the first official weekend of the professional football season. I had my fantasy football rosters ready and was prepared to spend the afternoon in front of the TV set. I spent the afternoon in front of the TV alright, but I slept through most of the games, essentially missing them.

My wife called me for dinner, but I turned it down. I didn't feel like eating even though I had not eaten a thing all day. I found out later that the meal was one of favorites - spaghetti and meatballs.

I downed as many drugs as I dared, mainly pain killers. I had two cups of Thera-Flu. Finally, around 8 pm I started to feel somewhat better. To be safe, I think I'll turn in early. With all the sleep I had during the day, I hope I'll be able to sleep through the night.

I feel certain that I must have had a nasty 24-hour bug of some kind. It could have been a result of yesterday's activities. I was working in the stifling humidity and a couple of times I stood close to air conditioners on high. It probably wasn't a good idea to be that close to a/c with perspiration still dripping from my body. When I arrived home, and still perspiring heavily, I sat for twenty minutes in front of the a/c.

When I get up in the morning, I'm hoping it will have passed. Time will tell.

No.1458

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Hannah and Her Sisters and Brothers

Saturday POODLE DOODLES

The Right Tool

Spaghetti & Meatballs

Sick In Bed

Weather wise it was a strange day today. Temperatures in the mid eighties and oppressive humidity are not uncommon in the Boston area. To have those same conditions underneath a dense layer of dark storm clouds is not common.

Moving around outdoors I could feel the resistance of the air against my body. The least amount of exertion resulted in shortness of breath and beads of perspiration. I noticed that even the usually busy squirrels and the ever-present pigeons were not to be seen. Even the birds and the rodents had the common sense to seek cool asylum.

Not so this mammal! Because of the Labor Day holiday and the time lost on Tuesday to have the brakes on my truck repaired, I had to be out and about to make up for those lost hours. Those hours were all the more difficult because of the humidity, and because of the clients' seemingly impervious tolerance of the conditions to the point that they felt no need to have their air conditioners running.

Of course, the weather conditions were a result of the tropical storm Hannah as she marched up the east coast yesterday and today. She and her family of tropical storms and hurricanes have been quite a nuisance to the Caribbean and southeast United States this summer. There have been Fay, Gustav, and Hannah* in the recent weeks and Ike and Josephine are not far behind.

Here in New England we only had to deal with the humidity and some periods of heavy rain. If you live near the Eastern seaboard, I hope all is well you too.

(*Depending on the source, I have seen this storm spelled as both "Hannah" and "Hanna.")

No.1457