A Taste of Love

Invariably, there will always be someone who forgets their significant other on Valentine's Day. They are faced with the silent treatment - or worse - when they don't even show up with at least a card!

This blogger has a solution. Below are some sentimental and (wink wink) suggestive cartoons and redeemable coupons that can save the day for those forgetful souls out there.

If you are one of these people, help yourself to the toons and coupons. Simply copy and past them onto an e-mail to your significant other. HEY, they are better than nothing! Yes, it is the day after Valentine's Day, but better late than never. At least they show you remembered and put some effort into it.

Then you can put your partner into a good mood when you tell them the joke at the end of this post.









A New Intern
A new intern is getting a tour of the hospital he is working in. The intern walks past a room where a man is vigorously masturbating nonstop.

The intern asks the doctor he is with why that man was doing such a thing out in the open.

The doctor answers, "Oh, he has a medical condition where the sperm builds up so quickly in his body he has to masturbate constantly or he will explode."

"Oh, I see," says the intern.

They walk past another room where the intern sees a man laying on a stretcher receiving oral sex from a nurse.

Again, he asks the doctor, What is up with THAT?

The doctor says, "Same condition, better medical plan."

№ 1611

A Valentine Outlaw

On Saturday, February the 14th, law enforcement officials around the world will be holding a global dragnet for a notorious criminal. He is wanted for vicious attacks against innocent single men and women alike. It has been rumored that he is currently on the payroll of the online matching/dating service, "eHarmony.com."

This dastardly individual was once known as the henchman for Madam Ruth, you know ... that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth who was busted for selling bottles of water containing turpentine and India ink which she called Love Potion № 9. One pour soul who fell for her scam was arrested within minutes of drinking the stuff for kissing a cop down on 34th & Vine.

The felon who goes by the name of Dan Cupid and calls himself the "God of Love," has managed to elude capture and arrest for a long time. Police are asking the public to be on the lookout for the fugitive.

Interpol released the following description:

He is described as small in stature and will be in the nude. For his size he is anatomically correct, but he is hung like a field mouse. He will be armed with a bow and a quiver of small arrows, with which he is extremely adept in using.

The tips of the arrows he fires at unsuspecting single individuals has been reported to have been dipped in a derivative of the aforementioned "Love Potion № 9."

Interpol and other law enforcement agencies have deliberately omitted one significant detail of the description of this character. According to many witnesses who have been shot by him, Cupid flies on feathered wings with a wingspan longer than his body.

A spokesperson for Scotland Yard said, "This individual is cherubic in appearance and as such people mistake him for an angel. Because of this, those who spot him believe they are witnessing a transfiguration or a sign from God. Once such a sighting has been reported, there is a spate of people having religious sightings. The Virgin Mary suddenly appears on anything from a liverwurst sandwich to the markings on a pet. No one is going to turn in an angel!"

It has been determined that many factors play into the effectiveness of Cupid's arrows. It is speculated that anything from weather conditions to the phases of the moon cause the arrows to react with varying results. There are cases wherein his victims remain together and live happily forever. However, not all of his strikes result in long term relationships.

Take for example the case of one well known couple, Tom and Rosanne. Their relationship was rocky from the start. Then one morning, the "love toxin" in his body wore off. Imagine the poor guy's terror to wake up and find himself in bed with her.

Following are artist renderings of some of Cupid's notorious antics:

Cupid Has His Good Days...

...And His Bad Days

No Way To Treat A Valentine
Ms Green Models For the Candy Illustrated Swimsuit Issue

Before You scroll Down Any Further,
You May Find the Following Image Offensive


It Appears That Ms Green's "Friends" Took This Picture
Of Her Dressing and Have Posted It On You Tube.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
"I think my wife is selling drugs," a man remarked to his friend. "Yesterday I was running a little late for work when the phone rang. I answered it, but before I could say anything a male voice on the line said," Hey, honey, is that dope gone yet?"
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
A man approached a woman at a bar and asked, "How many drinks does it take to make you dizzy?"

"About four or five," she replied, "and don't call me dizzy."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
An old man looking for oral sex approached his wife with a horny invitation, "How would you like to put your teeth around my manhood tonight?"

His wife nodded willingly, removed her dentures and said, "Do whatever you want with them; just don't wake me."

№ 1610

The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray (23)

Part 23 of an original tale that delves into the unexplored realms of the human mind. Hired by her lover to find a raven haired beauty, Benjamin Bering must avoid the local police as well as the agents of a nonexistent government agency who are after him and the woman. There are just two problems. The woman is in a coma and her body has been stolen. (Part 1 can be found HERE.)


Seeing Is Not Believing
"Finally!" she announced once more before forcing her lips against mine. Even as her tongue danced against mine, her hand was exploring my torso. My hand, on a mission of its own, found a breast and paid tender homage to its prominent terminus.

She pulled her lips away, and the heat of passion escaped as she exhaled softly. Her breath was as hot as a desert wind as it whisked across my neck. Then she half rolled on top of me, her leg draped across my thighs. She remained there, her cheek on my shoulder and I could feel a slight tremble within her body. Her leg pressed hard against me and then it relaxed. With a guttural groan she kissed my neck until the throes of the orgasm had passed.

Soft moans escaped from her throat and her breathing became even. In a trice she fell into a contented but needed sleep. The effects of the reviving shower was only temporary and had given way to the traces of the tranquilizer still within her system.

Not wanting to disturb her I slipped out from under the sheets. She mumbled something as I slid from beneath her arm and leg. Her only other response was to roll over with her back to me. Her bare back and buttocks were inviting, but I was going to have take a rain check. I reached for the sheet and pulled it over her. The soldier who had been standing proudly at attention was at parade rest and would soon be posturing at ease.


When I emerged from the bedroom Michelle was sitting at the table with a glass in her hand. I noticed too that she was holding a lit cigarette in her other. It was apparent that the personality shift within her brain had occurred again.

She turned at my approach and asked, "How is she?"

"She's sleeping soundly. That must have been one powerful tranquilizer," I said in reply. "I think that dart was meant for me. I bent down to put something in my sock. That was when she was hit and thankfully, it just grazed her." I held the folded piece of paper at eye level between us.

She took it and spread it out upon the table in front of her. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. One would've thought she'd seen a ghost. Aghast, she looked up at me and asked, "Where did you get this?"

"Susan found it in the glove box of the general's limousine. I'm no electronics expert, but it looks like that thing is equipped with a transmitter and a receiver."

She was shaking her head while her masculine fists clenched and unclenched. She turned the image over and scanned the back of it and uttered, "There's no way of telling if this is just a rendering still on the drawing board, or if it's a prototype or if the thing is already in use."

I shifted in my seat, "I don't think I like the sound of the tone in your voice, Michelle. I don't want to even think what they could do with that thing. It isn't possible." I paused and implored, "Is it?"

With a foreboding nod she replied, "In theory, it is possible, but it would take a lot of expensive research and development. Don't forget, they have almost fathomless resources." She began rubbing her temples and her mouth twisted into a painful grimace.

I watched her as she placed her face into her hands. I tapped the image with my finger and suggested, "Those migraine headaches, perhaps they might be a result of this device being used ..."

"To read my mind?" she said. "Michael and I once discussed the possibility that in the future our research might possibly be enhanced by the use of a remote device." In spite of the obvious pain pounding within her head she uttered, "It would seem that Mr. X and his team might have such a device and it is operational."

"This is not good," I said. "One thing bothers me though," I could see that she knew what I was about to say but allowed me to finish speaking, "If they were transmitting to your brain and thus receiving your thoughts, would there not be a need for transmitters and receivers on both sides?"

Michelle abruptly pushed an ashtray containing a lit cigarette away from her. "Not again!" she exclaimed. There was a curious look on her as she glanced at the sheet of paper upon the table in front of her elbow. She looked at me and asked, "Where did you get this?" Her head bent forward and she cried out. She cupped the sides of her head in her palms and began to press forcibly against her temples.

She rose from the table and hurried over to the bar. From the upper cabinet she produced a bottle of pain pills, shook two of the tablets into her hand and then swallowed them. Reaching again into the cabinet she grabbed the pad of paper on which she'd jotted down apparent chess moves earlier. I watched with casual curiosity as she began scribbling something onto the pad.

Having returned the pills and the pad to the cabinet she spoke slowly to me, "If you'll excuse me, I have to lie down again. These headaches are getting worse and they're longer lasting."

I watched her disappear behind the bedroom door. Her newest migraine attack brought me back to our discussion about the image of the Neuro-headset. Ever since my initial meeting with "Mr. Black" I had been hearing and seeing things I'd thought impossible. I thought nothing else would ever surprise or shock me again. Not only had the possibility of such a remote device shocked me, it terrified me.

As for Michelle's headaches and the transformations of her personality and mannerisms, was it possible someone was transmitting their thoughts into her mind? If that was possible, then it would be reasonable to assume that they could also be extracting her thoughts. The headaches had to be the key. Their occurrence must have been coinciding with the entrances and departures of the invading mind.

If my deductions were correct, then it would explain why the Feds were being so cavalier about my comings and goings. Anything I had been sharing with Michelle, inexplicably I had been sharing with them. Indirectly they were picking my brain.

Hopefully it wasn't too late, but I realized that I just might be able to use their intrusions into Michelle's brain to my advantage. I would need to relegate the information I passed on to Michelle. How it was to be doled out would depend on whether I was talking to the cigarette-smoking personality or the non-smoker!

I walked over to the bar. Those scribblings Michelle had been jotting down on that pad of paper might not have been so cryptic after all. On the surface they appeared to be opening moves for a game of chess as Susan had recognized. I leafed through the pad's pages until I came to the latest entry. There was just one word written there - Camelot. I knew of the Arthurian legend, but the message Michelle was trying to convey remained enigmatic to me.

I glanced across the room and caught sight of "book." According to Michelle those discs contained something that both Susan and I needed to see. She suggested that we should watch them together.

I looked over at the door to the guest bedroom. Susan was probably still asleep and I wasn't going to disturb her. I picked up the book and pressed the secret button to open the hidden compartment in which the discs had been placed. I placed the first one into the disc drawer and while it was loading I felt a craving for a cup of coffee.

Coffee cup in hand, I settled onto the sofa and clicked the play button on the remote. The images that began to appear on the screen were of earlier experiments, as evidenced by the grainy black and white footage. There was plenty of the "steamy stuff" that had been recorded on the other discs I'd already viewed.

Even though there were different couples wearing head pieces and engaged in sexual intercourse, I could see no reason that we had to see the content of the discs. I froze for a moment and did a double take as a familiar face appeared on the screen.

Hitting the pause button, I stared at a young lieutenant standing a few feet away from a couple being fitted with headpieces. There was no denying it. It was our illustrious general, forty some odd years younger. I hit play to resume. My jaw almost dropped into my cup of coffee. Next to the young officer was an enlisted man. His features were unmistakable. It was then PFC Jimmy Coleman, my murdered neighbor!

I was still trying to digest Jimmy's presence when a sergeant joined them on screen. I knew I shouldn't have been surprised. They had served together in Southeast Asia. Brock O'Day's rough chisled face was glancing back at the camera, giving the impression he was looking directly at me.

The young man had position himself onto his back upon a flat surface. He grabbed his dog tags, moved them from his chest and then dropped them over his shoulder. The unclothed young woman, obviously Vietnamese, stood over the G.I. with her feet planted on either side of his naked body. She began to squat but froze in place when Brock's hand grabbed the inside of her left thigh. He leaned forward and twisted his shoulders until he was looking up at the woman's genital area.

I felt a knot in my stomach and I began to grow tense. There was nothing tender about his actions as his finger moved not onto her pubic area but to a point high on the woman's inner thigh. I paused the disc again. I squeezed my eyelids together and opened them, hoping beyond hope that my eyes had been playing tricks on me. No, there was nothing wrong with my eyesight. There was in fact a tattoo of a butterfly!

It was with subdued resolve that I began watching the disks again. Much of the first disc was more of the same but with different American soldiers and Vietnamese women engaged in the sexual act. Each of the women in succession also bore the identical tattoos on the same area of their bodies.

The second disc was recorded in color, although the quality was not good. From the appearance of the men and women, each with long hair and peace signs on chains about their necks, it was easy enough to determine that I was watching experiments that were being conducted in the mid to late 60s.

When I was about half way through the third disc, which had been recording experiments within the last eight to ten years, I was about to stop the disc. I dropped the remote and it fell onto the floor. I wanted to turn away. I could not. I was paralyzed in utter shock. Even though I was trembling with a whole range of emotions, I managed to lean forward to pick up the remote. I clicked the power button and shut off the player.

Who were these people?

It couldn't be. It was impossible! It was seeing it before my own eyes. I could see it, but I refused to believe it!

(To be continued in part 24 on Monday, 2/16, with Was It Good For You Too?)

№ 1609

Farmer In the Dell

They say you never forget how to ride a bicycle ...

That may be true, but the muscles in your legs forget!

With that reckoning, you do not forget how to use a computer ...

Except when the computer has a different operating system!

As stated in yesterday's post, the hard drive on my old faithful computer was wiped clean! Ever since I began blogging back in January of '05, I have used an HP computer. There have actually been three of them, with Windows '95, '98 and 2000. The first one (the '95) was a hand-me-down from my daughter as she updated to a '98. In time the '95 was becoming out-dated and a loft of software and game sites required '98 or later operating systems. Then I inherited the 2000 when my daughter got married and moved out. That was the one that just died.

Each of those operating systems were a little bit different (improved?) than the previous ones, but the transition to the 'newer' systems was fairly easy.

For a couple of days I have been using an IBM NotePad with Windows XP. Though I'm not comfortable using a laptop, I found the XP system pretty good. It only took me about an hour on the laptop to realize that I could connect the mouse from the departed PC as opposed to running a finger across that mouse pad.

Today, four days before the day itself, my wife surprised me with a brand new computer! We set it up - it took about an hour for all the software to be loaded. Then I spent about another two hours downloading Firefox, CCleaner, AdAware, etc. Then I had to load up my printer/copier/scanner.

I still have some other things to add and to customize my desktop and home page. After about three hours total from the time it was taken out the box, I began to put this post together.

This computer is a Dell and it has about double the memory that the last one had - and of course it is much faster! The operating system is Windows Vista! It seems like everything about it is completely different and alien to me. In time, I'll get used to it though.

One thing I like about the new setup is the 17" flat screen. I can read almost everything without my reading glasses now! It is CD/DVD readable and writable - that might come in handy!

While I'm learning to use this new operating system, I'm reminded of a joke that's been around for some time regarding the gender of a computer:

Are Computers From Mars or Venus?
A language teacher was explaining to her class that in French, nouns unlike their English counterparts, are grammatically designated as masculine or feminine.

"House" in French, is feminine -"la maison," "Pencil" in French, is masculine "le crayon."

One puzzled student asked, "What gender is computer?" The teacher did not know, and the word was not in her French dictionary.

So for fun she split the class into two groups appropriately enough, by gender and asked them to decide whether "computer" should be a masculine or a feminine noun.

Both groups were required to give four reasons for their recommendation.

The men's group decided that computer should definitely be of the feminine gender ("la computer"), because

1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic
2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else
3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long term memory for possible later review
4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheque on accessories for it.

The women's group, however, concluded that computers should be masculine "le computer") because:

1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on.
2. They have a lot of data but still can't think for themselves
3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they ARE the problem
4. As soon as you commit to one, you realise that if you had waited a little longer you could have gotten a better model.

№ 1608

Left Hanging ...

Oh, crap! My hard drive is gone!
I know I'm not the first to have this happen, and I'm sure I won't be the last ...

I don't know if I was hit with a virus or a Trojan Horse, or if I was hacked into ... But my hard drive was wiped clean. When I turned on my computer at about 7 pm Monday evening I was greeted by the wallpaper sans the icons and tool bar. The helpless white arrow-shaped cursor was moving against the background with nothing on which to click!

(I couldn't even play Solitaire or Free Cell!)

It's going to cost me some dead Presidents!
I have been thinking about upgrading my computer (still using Windows 2000) for some time. My time table has inexplicably been moved up.

My son-in-law worked on it to see if he could get it up and running. In his words, "Mike, what you have here is heavy and expensive paperweight."

I was able to put up a post for Tuesday from a piece I had on draft status. Today's post is being prepared on a lap top. I'm not comfortable using a lap top, but until I get a new desk top computer I'm going to have to get used to one.

I didn't appreciate it at the time, but I was GIVEN a new and unused lap top about six months ago as a token of her appreciation for all the help I'd been giving her over the years. She said to consider a pre-holiday Christmas gift.

It's an IBM ThinkPad. I didn't even think about the price then, but I realize that when purchased it cost more than the whole setup I've been using for four years - that includes the HP Pavilion PC, a 17" monitor, and an Epson printer.


Yesterday I called the lady who had given me the lap top and told her I didn't realize it was such an expensive computer. (For shame!)I admitted to her I hadn't even taken it out of the box. I suggested I give it back in exchange for her older lap top. She said not to worry about it and that she'd won it on a raffle ticket she had bought. As far as she concerned it only cost $1.00!

I told her I was now using it and that it was nice piece of equipment. (I also told her that my own computer had been assassinated! I was finally using it out of necessity.)

She said "Good things happen for those who do good things."

For now, I'm using a Wi-Fi connection to get online. It hasn't been setup and registered yet with comcast, so I cannot use the high-speed line. There is only one Wireless Network connection in the area and in range for me to hop on board.

The connection usually isn't available until after 10 pm and for the first half hour I lose the connection and have to wait to reacquire the signal. (It's a pain! But it's better than no access at all.)

Of course, all of my files and my pictures are lost. (I know, I should have backed them up, but I never took the time.) "You live and you learn."

Until I get a new desktop, my posts might not be as prolific (nearly every day)for a while. I might not get around to many of you on my blogroll to visit, read, and leave comments, but I'll try my best.

My wife and daughter are checking the ads and are wanting to pick up a new computer for my birthday. Yep, the calendar on Sunday the 15th is about add one to that magic number again - for the 61st time! Am I really that old?

№ 1607

Danielle Cupid

Watch out guys! There's a new Cupid in town! Danielle Cupid!

She's more determined than brother Dan. If that's not enough, she's a better shot! She thinks the pen is mightier than the sword. She wants to make sure what you write on those cardss, you mean it!


Redneck Rhymes for Valentines Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you think that hickey looks like a blister,
you should check out the one that I gave to your sister!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Think Again If You Were Going to Put Any of These
on A Valentines Day Card To Your Significant Other:
Bored usband: Honey, why are you wearing your wedding ring on the wrong finger?
Bored wife: Because I married the wrong man!

Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other is a husband.

Don't marry the person you want to live with, marry the one you cannot live without...but whatever you do, you'll regret it later.

My wife and I always compromise; I admit I'm wrong and she agrees with me.

It doesn't matter how often a married man changes his job, he still ends up with the same boss.

They call our language the mother tongue because the father seldom gets to speak.

First Guy (proudly): "My wife's an angel!" Second Guy: "You're lucky, mine's still alive."

Marriage is grand -- and divorce is at least 100 grand.

Married life is very frustrating. In the first year of marriage, the man speaks and the woman listens. In the second year, the woman speaks and the man listens. In the third year, they both speak and the neighbors listen.

When a man opens the door of his car for his wife, you can be sure of one thing: either the car is new or the wife.

Before marriage, a man will lie awake all night thinking about something you say. After marriage, he will fall asleep before you finish.

Every man wants a wife who is beautiful, understanding, economical, and a good cook. But the law allows only one wife.

One woman's hobby is another woman's hubby.

Many a man owes his success to his first wife and his second wife to his success.
I recently read that love is entirely a matter of chemistry. That must be why my wife treats me like toxic waste.

A man is incomplete until he is married. After that, he is finished.

Marriage is when a man and woman become as one; the trouble starts when they try to decide which one.

Marriages are made in heaven. But so again, are thunder and lightning.

If you want your wife to listen and pay strict attention to every word you say, talk in your sleep.

Before marriage, a man yearns for the woman he loves. After marriage, the "y" becomes silent.

When a newly married couple smiles, everyone knows why.
When a ten-year married couple smiles, everyone wonders why.

My wife told me I should be more affectionate. So I got two girlfriends.

The honeymoon is over when the husband calls home to say he'll be late for dinner and the answering machine says it is in the microwave.

Men who have pierced ears are better prepared for marriage. They've experienced pain and bought jewelry.

How do most men define marriage? A very expensive way to get your laundry done.

Love is blind but marriage is an eye-opener.

The most effective way to remember your wife's birthday is to forget it once.

Cosmetics: A woman's way of keeping a man from reading between the lines.

Words to live by: Do not argue with a spouse who is packing your parachute

Bachelors should pay more taxes, they enjoy a better quality of life.

Why Government does not allow a Man to Marry 2 Women.
Because per Constitution, you can NOT PUNISH TWICE for the same Mistake

When do you congratulate someone for their mistake. On their marriage.

If you do NOT have a wife - You are missing Some thing in your life.
If you have a wife - You are missing So Many things in your life.

Love is a three ring circus

engagement ring
wedding ring
suffering
№ 1606

The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray (22)

Part 22 of an original tale that delves into the unexplored realms of the human mind. Hired by her lover to find a raven haired beauty, Benjamin Bering must avoid the local police as well as the agents of a nonexistent government agency who are after him and the woman. There are just two problems. The woman is in a coma and her body has been stolen. (Part 1 can be found HERE.)


Sweet Dreams, My Lovely
"Susan!" I called out. She was lying on her side, her back to me curled up in the fetal position. "Susan. Answer me."

"My arm, Ben. It hurts," she sobbed.

I crawled by her side and whispered, "Let me see." She held her arm aloft and I pulled her bloodied shirt sleeve away from the inflicted spot. I sighed with relief and tried to assure she was going to be okay, "It just grazed your arm, enough to break the skin, that's all."

I cursed under my breath. Not only had I been an idiot for coming there in the first place, I'd been even more foolish to have allowed Susan to accompany me. Why hadn't I seen the warning signs that this might have been a baited trap?

I tensed at the sound of footsteps. Tending to Susan I had let my guard down again. The cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against my neck. I could make out a polished shoe and black slacks between my arm and side. I felt Susan's hand tap against my knee. She turned her hand over to reveal what looked like some kind of dart. My body between my captor and Susan I took the dart and being careful to avoid contact with its pointed tip, I repositioned in my hand. I held my breath and thrust my arm back in the direction of the man's leg.

The man cried out and backed away. I turned in time to see him fall forward onto his knees. His eyes made contact with mine and then a string of angry words spewed from his lips as he plunged faced first onto the concrete floor. I picked up the gun he'd been brandishing and studied it for a moment. "A tranquilizer gun?" I said slowly.

"Ben!" Susan shrieked.

There was a another shot fired. I felt something strike the handle of the gun, knocking if from my grasp. A second man was advancing even as he placed another dart in the chamber of his gun. I raised my hands and tried to position myself between him and Susan who had managed to get to her feet. "Don't shoot. We surrender," I uttered in defeat.

"More than you'll ever know," the man snarled. At point blank range he raised and leveled the gun at my chest. I tensed and turned my head. I heard the shot ... But there was no pain. His eyes widened in stunned confusion the man yelped and grabbed his neck.

Susan grabbed my arm and looked at me, "Who shot him?"

A familiar voice boomed from the shadows, "They gotta get us some of these for the police force." Sergeant Brock O'Day emerged from behind the ambulance waving a gun like the ones the two fallen men had been using. Seeing the confused look on our faces he said, "Oh this? I took it from a third one back there. I put him to sleep with the butt of my pistol. I'm afraid he'll have a nasty headache when he wakes up."

"You tailing us, Brock?" I asked. "How did you know we'd be here? Did you know it was a trap?"

"I had a sneaking feeling with that reporter's instinct of yours that you would notice that this place wasn't on that list." He tapped a finger against his forehead and gloated, "I memorized that list, Ben, just in case."

I shook my head, "I don't supposed it occurred to you to warn me?"

He looked down at the two fallen men and back at me, "As for following you? No. When I got here the place was deserted." He pointed to the general's limousine and continued, "I made myself a drink, got real comfortable, and even watched a little TV LAND on his television. The three Government goons showed up right in the middle of The Beverly Hillbillies."

"The nerve of them interrupting your diligent stakeout, officer." Susan interjected.

I glanced at her and shook my head. Her eyes appeared to be heavy, her face showing fatigue. She was rubbing her arm. Even though it had only grazed her, the tranquilizer in that dart must have been taking some effect on her.

"Girly," O'Day laughed heartily taking no offense to her remark, "I can watch a television and three Feds walk in here at the same time and not spill any of my drink. I overheard their plans," he said and pointed to me, "If there was any doubt that they were keeping an eye on you, I heard one tell the others that you and the girl were on your way here."

I raised a thumb and said, "Well, I for one can appreciate your diligence. Thanks, Brock."

"Look, Ben," he declared, "I don't know what's going down or what this is all about, and I'm sure you have a good reason for keeping me in the dark, but I have to wonder what the Feds want with a reporter and a college girl." He studied us both for a moment and continued, "What part do your boss and that kid they killed have to do with it? Did Jimmy just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

It was apparent that O'Day didn't know about the story I'd written, the story that these people had squelched. I didn't think it would be beneficial for me to exchange any information with him at that time. In a word, he had nothing for me. "I don't have much, Brock. Most of it is conjecture and hearsay. I have nothing concrete or incriminating."

He made an indication with his eyes to my leg, "I won't ask for it, but I suppose that piece of paper from the general's limo would not be of any interest to me?"

I shook my head. I felt Susan's body begin to lean heavily against me. Placing my arms around her waist I asked, "Susan? Are you all right?"

"Tired ... I'm so tired," she said her words almost incoherent.

"Better get her into my car. Mass General is just up the street. That stuff from the dart must have gotten into her blood stream," the sergeant suggested.

"If it's all the same to you, I don't presently have much faith in hospitals. I'm taking her back to Black's apartment. It'll wear off soon enough."

"As you wish, Ben. I can't say as I blame you." He bent over and removed the dart from the gun of the last man taken down. He produced a plastic bag from his pocket and placed the object in it. "I'll have the boys in the lab to run some tests on the substance in the dart."

Utilizing his police priviledge of blaring his siren to clear traffic from his path, we arrived at the garage entrance to the apartment building in five minutes. He waited until he saw us enter the elevator and the garage door began closing.

Michelle greeted us that door and helped me get her into the guest bedroom. "What on earth happened? Is she going to be all right? Who did this?" she asked while we were helping Susan onto the edge of the bed.

"Michelle," I said, "She's okay. She just needs some rest. I'll explain as soon as she's settled."

"Ben, help me into the shower, please. That will help," she begged. "I don't want to sleep right now. Please?"

Clothes and all she stood under the cold water for ten minutes while I stood nearby to make sure she didn't fall. By the time she stepped out from under the water she smiled and seemed to have been reinvigorated. In the process my clothes had also gotten wet, so I removed them and dropped them on the bathroom floor. She giggled and followed suit.

After she had dried herself she pulled back the sheets on the bed swhe lie down and with a finger beckoned me to join her there. "I don't know about you, but I think this time and this place is as good as any. Wouldn't you agree,Ben?"

I grinned and slipped under the sheets next to her. In only a matter of seconds we were in each other's arms.

Before pressing her lips to mine she cooed, "Finally!"

(To be continued with part 23, on Friday 2/13, with Seeing Is Not Believing.)

№ 1605

The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray (21)

Part 21 of an original tale that delves into the unexplored realms of the human mind. Hired by her lover to find a raven haired beauty, Benjamin Bering must avoid the local police as well as the agents of a nonexistent government agency who are after him and the woman. There are just two problems. The woman is in a coma and her body has been stolen. (Part 1 can be found HERE.)


The Secret of N.I.H.M.
"When it comes to our government, their use of gobbledygook is matched only by their propensity to use acronyms," I uttered.

Susan nodded and observed, "Neural Integration & Mental Holography? It sure sounds like what Michelle and Michael were working on, doesn't it?"

I placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Here's the plan. First, I'm going to Portland Street to check out that warehouse ..."

"Whoa! Time out, buster!" she interjected and then vehemently added, "We are going to check out the warehouse."

I sighed in resignation, "We will check out the warehouse." I had to admit that this young woman had some spunk. If I had to have a partner, it might as well be one who was sexy and pretty. I extended my elbow and said, "Let's do it."


Fifteen minutes later the taxi dropped us off in front of the train station across from the TD Banknorth Garden. Glancing at my watch I led Susan to a small bar nearby. I responded to the quizzical look on her face, "It's ten o'clock. The Celtics are home tonight and very soon the Garden is going to be emptying out after the game."

Still confused she asked, "You want to get some of the players' autographs or something?"

I frowned and replied, "We are going to mingle with the crowd." I winked and added, "Just in case our 'friends' happen to be following us."

Almost like clockwork a sea of humanity began spilling from the Garden and onto the street. In a matter of minutes we were being carried along by a phalanx of fifty or so fans who had attended the game. I steered us to the left of the queue as we neared the corner of Portland Street. About half of the crowd turned there also, the rest proceeding straight ahead.

I grabbed Susan's arm and yanked her abruptly into a recessed doorway. Without hesitation I pulled her into my arms and pressed my lips hard onto hers. Startled at first, she relaxed and succumbed to my sudden show of passion even as someone in the passing crowd shouted, "Get a room!"

Locking her fingers behind my neck she beamed, "Personally, I would've picked a place with a little more ambiance, but what the hell."

I smiled and countered, "Sometimes the best way to appear inconspicuous is to be conspicuous."

I gave her a gentle push away and turned to a boarded up door. With little effort I managed to work the plywood sheet until there was enough room for our bodies to slip behind it. Inside, our olfactory senses were assaulted by the strong odors of Sterno, stale whiskey and urine.

Susan grabbed my arm and huddled next to me. It was a foreboding cold and dark asylum for the homeless, the winos and any number of unsavory characters wishing to avoid the long arm of the law. We stood still while our eyes adjusted to the darkness. I whispered to her, "I did plan to come here by myself ..."

She shivered and responded, "Don't rub it in, Ben. I'll be okay. Remind me of this the next time I complain about ambiance."

"Stay close," I said as I began to move deeper into the vastness of the abandoned warehouse. "I have no idea who or what might be lurking in here." I felt her tense next to me and I responded by slipping my arm around her shoulders.

"I'm not sure which would be worse, the whos or the whats," she said. "I am not thrilled by the prospect of running into the whats, like spiders or rats."

I extended my other arm in front of me and suggested, "We should be close to a wall by now." My hand touched upon cold concrete, "Ah. Here it is." I groped along the rough surface and stated further, "Now all I have to do is to find a door."

In only a matter of minutes I was manipulating a lever handle to the door. "It's probably locked, Ben," Susan offered. There was a click and the door swung open. "Then again, maybe not," she mumbled.

Stepping inside, we were greeted by the pleasant smell of clean sterile air. I found and flipped a switch next to the door. Two rows of three fluorescent light fixtures suspended above our heads flickered before finally bathing the area in soft light. We were standing in a large receiving bay which was also serving as a garage. To our right were several nondescript sedans with tinted windows, each one bearing Government plates.

To my left the white surface of an ambulance caught my eye. "I found Michael's ride!" I announced. On a bench next to the ambulance lie several large magnetic logos. I lifted each one of the placards calling out what was printed upon them, "Mass General Hospital, Cataldo, Red Cross, and Northeastern University among others."

Susan joined me by the ambulance, "Ben, this is so weird! All of those cars over there are not only unlocked, but the keys are still in the ignitions. That limousine has a stocked bar and a television."

"Ah yes, that would be the General's limo," I said running my fingers through my hair.

She handed me a sheet of paper bearing the letterhead of N.I.M.H., and said, "This was in the limousine's glove box. It looks like one of those headpieces Michelle and Michael were wearing on those discs we were watching."

I studied the drawing for a moment and declared, "Similar, but not like." I was no expert, but I was certain that the drawing depicted an updated version, perhaps a prototype of the next generation of the headpieces. I shuddered and said, "We can only hope that this just a rendering ... That it has yet to be developed."

"Why do say that, Ben?" Susan asked peering over my shoulder.

"Unless I'm mistaken, and I hope to God that I am," I said glancing back at her, "but it appears that this Neuro-headset has a transmitter and a receiver built into it!" I folded the sheet and knelt down. I tucked it into my sock.

There was a sudden crack and it resounded throughout the loading bay. I thought I felt the breeze of something passing near my ear.

"Ow!" Susan cried out. "I've been shot!"

(To be continued in part 22, Monday 2/9, with Sweet Dreams, My Lovely. )

№ 1604

Economic Preparation-H

I'm tired of hearing about the recession...

I'm tired of talking about six more weeks of winter...

I'm ready for some inflation talk!


Which Came First, the Chicken or the Rooster?
John was in the fertilized egg business.

He had several hundred young layers (hens), called ‘pullets’, and ten roosters to fertilize the eggs.

He kept records,and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.

This took a lot of time, So he bought some tiny bells and attached them to his roosters.

Each bell had a different tone,so he could tell from a distance,which rooster was performing.

Now, he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.

John’s favorite rooster, old Butch, was a very fine specimen,but this morning he noticed old Butch’s bell hadn’t rung at all!

When he went to investigate, he saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets, hearing the roosters coming, could run for cover.

To John’s amazement, old Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn’t ring.

He’d sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one.

John was so proud of old Butch, he entered him in the Renfrew County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.

The result was the judges not only awarded old Butch the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pullet surprise as well.

It's a Beer Market
If you had purchased $1,000.00 of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49.00. With Enron, you would have had $16.50 left of the original $1,000.00. With WorldCom, you would have had less than $5.00 left. If you had purchased $1,000 of Delta Air Lines stock you would have $49.00 left. But, if you had purchased $1,000.00 worth of beer one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum recycling REFUND, You would have had $214.00. Based on the above, the best current investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle.

It’s called the 401-Keg.

The State of the Japanese Economy
According to inside contacts, the Japanese banking crisis shows no signs of ameliorating. If anything, it’s getting worse.

Following last week’s news that Origami Bank had folded, we are hearing that Sumo Bank has gone belly up, and Bonsai Bank plans to cut back some of its branches.

Karaoke Bank is up for sale, and it is (you guessed it!) going for a song.

Meanwhile, shares in Kamikaze Bank have nose-dived, and 500 back-office staff at Karate Bank got the chop.

Analysts report that there is something fishy going on at Sushi Bank, and staff there fear they may get a raw deal.

Banks: Customer Service
"I'm not saying that the customer service in my bank is bad, but when I went in the other day and asked the clerk to check my balance ... she leaned over and pushed me."

The Economy - Personified
This guy is walking with his friend, who happens to be a psychologist. He says to this friend, "I'm a walking economy."

The friend asks, "How so?"

"My hair line is in recession, my stomach is a victim of inflation, and both of these together are putting me into a deep depression!"

Some Economic One-Liners
"Futures are UP on Mason jars and shovels."

"My credit's so bad, they won't even take my cash."

"How can you tell if a politician is lying about the economy? His lips are moving."

Freddie and Fannie sitting in a tree S-p-e-n-d-i-n-g.
№ 1603

Press One For English

There's one thing that really gets under my skin ...

...You dial the number of a place of business and you get a recording saying,

"Press one for English."

WTF over? I already speak English! Why should I have to press one? Why should I have to press anything?

I'm placing a phone call from my home to a retail place of business, both of which happen to be in the same time zone, area code and zip code, and I have to press '1' for English?

Funny, the last thing I remember when I placed the call in the first place, I wasn't calling up inquiring about foreign language courses!

Years ago when I finished matriculating and received my diploma, I was under the impression that I'd no longer have to deal with multiple choice exams.

If I'm craving Chinese food and I call up for delivery at Won Hung Low's or Wang's Dragon I should hear:

"Herro!"

Close enough!

How do I really feel? Well, if you really want to know, you'll have press something.

No, not '1' - but the arrow thingy below:

~

The above video with the song was made in 2007? I don't know how I ended up not ever seeing it until yesterday. (Thanks, Josey.) In any event, its message is as fresh today as was then.

I've never listened to rest of these recordings to see what language options are available. I'd guess that they would include: Spanish, French, Chinese, German, Russian, etc.

I wonder if they offer dialects too? You know, like Brooklyn-ese (press the thoid button) ; redneck (y'all press one iffin to talk to Bubba) ; or gangsta (yo whazzup?)

If I was to ever decide to set up my home phone with language options, I would give the caller these options:

☺ Begin talking
☺ If you do not speak English press any number 1-9 for this message:

Hang up and call back when you learn English.

I liked the above song and especially its message so much that I even added it to the top of my sidebar for a while. Feel free to play it whenever you stop by.

'Nuff Said?

№ 1602

Dying to Get Out of the Hospital

Actual Examination Chart Notes
Patient has two teenage children, but no other abnormalities.

Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a year.

On the second day, the knee was better, and then on the third day it disappeared.

The patient is tearful and crying constantly.She also appears to be depressed.

The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993.

Discharge status: Alive, but without my permission.

Healthy-appearing decrepit 69-year old male, mentally alert but forgetful.

The patient refused autopsy.

The patient has no previous history of suicides.

Patient has left white blood cells at another hospital.

Patient's medical history has been remarkably insignificant with only a 40-pound weight gain in the last three days.

Patient had waffles for breakfast and anorexia for lunch.

Between you and me, we ought to be able to get this lady pregnant.

She is numb from her toes down.

While in ER, she was examined, x-rated and sent home.

The skin was moist and dry.

Occasional, constant, infrequent headaches.

Patient was alert and unresponsive.

She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life until she got a divorce.

Rectal examination revealed a normal-size thyroid.

I saw your patient today, who is still under our car for physical therapy.

Both breasts are equal and reactive to light and accommodation.

Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus-sized.

The lab test indicated abnormal lover function.

The patient was to have a bowel resection.However, he took a job as a stockbroker instead.

Skin: somewhat pale but present.

The pelvic exam will be done later on the floor.

Patient was seen in consultation by Dr. ____, who felt we should sit on the abdomen and I agree.

Large brown stool ambulating in the hall.

She has no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was hot in bed last night.

Patient was found in bed with her power mower.

№ 1601

Super (Hyper) Bowl XLIII

The Super Bowl is over and so is the hype. For the most part, only the sports personalities and fans of both the Arizona Cardinals and the Pittsburgh Steelers will still be talking about he game.

It was second most viewed Super Bowl ever, behind last year's match up between the N.E. Patriots and the NY Giants. A good portion of the total viewership was comprised not of true football fans, but of those interested in the ...
commercials.

This phenomenon of such anticipated and hyped commercials having nearly as much impact and interest as the game itself is truly capitalism at its best.

Who'd have thought that a football game would be responsible for entire families sitting together in the same room and watching the same thing for four hours?

For the past three Super Bowls I had jotted down on a legal pad the plays and commercials during the games and then posted a recap/review. I haven't posted it yet, but I did the same thing again this year.

I looked at the six pages written in longhand with all the notes in the margins, words crossed out, and words inserted, and stars next to the commercials ... and I really dreaded the editing I had to do. It was 10:30 PM and I was too tired to tackle the editing and then post.

I decided to skip everything to do with the game itself and to concentrate only on the commercials. Then I looked at that editing job facing me and decided I wasn't up to it today either.

Then I remembered one of the commercials for Hulu.com.

Hulu.com made it easier for me this year. They allowed you to embed the following:


The thumbnails are arranged by the most popular as voted by the fans. Rather than me to attempt to describe them, you can view them yourselves. I think you can still vote for your favorite - if you want to sit through all 60+ of them.

From the widget, click on the commercial you'd like to see and you will be transported to Hulu.com to view a full-screen showing of the ad.

(If you have a pop-up blocker turned on, you'll need to turn it off to view the videos. Oh yes, don't forget to re-enable your pop-up blocker when you are finished. Mine resets itself after views.)

Halftime Show: While I am not a fan of Bruce Springsteen, he and the E-Street Band put on a good show. I'd have to rank it right up there with the best of the halftime shows.

№ 1600

The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray (20)

Part 20 of an original tale that delves into the unexplored realms of the human mind. Hired by her lover to find a raven haired beauty, Benjamin Bering must avoid the local police as well as the agents of a nonexistent government agency who are after him and the woman. There are just two problems. The woman is in a coma and her body has been stolen. (Part 1 can be found HERE.)

How Do You Spell Relief?
I needed to rethink O'Day's impromptu visit. On the surface our meeting seemed to be all too logical. The suggestion of an alliance, albeit an uneasy one, made a lot sense.

However, I would need to be frugal with just how much information I gave him. Any mention in detail of the work in which Michael and Michelle were involved would have to be cryptic. If I had found it difficult to assimilate their research, O'Day would find it unfathomable.

His sincerity regarding Jimmy's death was in no way questionable, but the chance of him becoming a loose cannon gave me cause to worry. His experience under fire in the jungles of Southeast Asia and on the streets of Boston had steeled his demeanor into one of taking action first and asking questions later.

"Priorities," I said to myself. "One must have priorities." I approached the bedroom door which was standing slightly ajar and slipped inside. The last time I had entered that room when it was dark I had been witness to the spectacle of her nude body, a silhouette against the blinds back lit by filtered sunlight. No such vision greeted my eyes this time. The only other light in the room was escaping from beneath the bathroom door.

"As you were," I said to myself wishing to recapture that moment before Michelle had walked in on us. I began stripping and in my haste nearly fell twice trying to get my feet out of my pants. I strutted like a rooster toward a hen house and pushed the bathroom door open.

Susan was standing before the sink brushing her hair in the mirror. She was still naked from the waist up but had put on a pair of slacks in my absence. Our eyes met via our reflections in the mirror. She turned to face me, a scowl on her face.

"Ben, what are you doing? Why aren't you dressed?" she asked placing her hands on her hips.

I suddenly felt like one of the actors in that commercial; you know, the one where the narrator says, 'Want to get away?'

"I was listening at the door. We need to get started working on that list the sergeant gave you," she lectured. She let her eyes travel from my head and come to rest at my shorts. She grinned, "I hardly think that outfit would be conducive to walking around out there in the streets of Boston." She turned back to face the mirror and resumed brushing her hair.

I stood frozen for a moment, not certain whether I should be surprised, stunned, disappointed, rejected, angry or all of the above. Not one to be passive, I inched up behind her and slipped my hands around her waist. I moved them over her bare abdomen until her breasts were cupped in my palms.

She spoke not a word but turned away and retrieved her bra which had been hanging from the door knob. Slipping her arms through the straps and fitting herself into the inverted cupolas, she offered her back to me and ordered, "Fasten me."

I tried, but her hands pressed against the front of the bra prevented my hands from gaining access beneath the material. I sighed and complied to her command. "Susan," I said in attempt to rekindle the flames that been burning less than a half an hour earlier, "What happened to girl I left here wanting do nothing ... but get laid?"

She reached for and opened the topmost of several vanity drawers. She removed something from within and held it aloft. "Sometimes, even a woman has to take matters into her own hands," she said winking before dropping the object into my hand.

"A vibrator?" I blubbered.

She giggled and said, "How do I spell relief? D-i-l-d-o!" She was taking delight in the kaleidoscope of changing emotions upon my face. She shrugged her shoulders and added to my tormented ego, "There were no batteries in it, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

I mumbled mainly to myself, "No ... batteries?"

Her giggles turned to laughter as she took it from my hand and positioned it suggestively near the front of her slacks, "Why Ben Bering ... you don't honestly think that without batteries it can't be put to good use anyway?"

I shook my head and tried to hide my flushed cheeks, "No, you're quite resourceful." I moved to the glass stall and said, "I need a shower."

She slid in front of me and leaned against the glass door. She winked as she placed a finger inside the waistband of my shorts. Her forehead brushing against my chest she pulled the waistband away from my abdomen and peered into the exposed area. She pulled her finger back until the waistband let go and slapped hard against my skin. She looked up into my eyes and announced, "You better make it a cold shower!"


Twenty minutes later I was seated at the dinette table watching Susan shuffle about in the small galley kitchen. It should not have come as a surprise, but it didn't escape my attention that she was able to turn the simple task of preparing coffee into a sensual display. Casting aside the thought of the word sensual and any of its implications, I realized that as close as we had become in such a relatively short passage of time, I knew absolutely nothing about her.

I waited until she was sitting across from me and asked, "So tell me Susan, are you from around here? Do you have family close by?"

She blew across the rim of the cup of hot coffee and replied, "Let's see, to your first question, yes and no." She took a sip from the cup and added, "And to your second question, yes and no."

"I see," I commented with a sardonic frown. "The less I know, the better?"

I could detect a trace of sadness in her voice as she answered, "No, that's not it, Ben. It's just that there's not a lot to tell because there's not a lot I know." She lifted the cup to her lips and swallowed some of the hot liquid. She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin and shifted in the chair until she was more comfortable. "I didn't know my parents ... my mother died when I was an infant ... and my father ... he put me up for adoption. I don't even know who he is, or where he is."

I reached across the table and took her hand in mine, "I'm sorry. Did you ever try to locate him?"

She nodded, "Yes, when I was fifteen. Nothing! It seemed that all my attempts were blocked. I assume that anyone who would go to all that trouble not be found, must be rich and have a lot of connections in high places." Running her fingers through her tresses she sighed and continued with her story, "You know, I can't even find out my mother's name!"

The reporter in me began to dominate my personality, "What about the birth certificate? Surely that would have your mother's name recorded upon it."

She wiped a tear that had been forming in her eye and shook her head, "Of course there was. The birth certificate lists my mother's name as none other than Jane Doe."

The poor thing, I thought to myself. "I'm sorry that I asked about things you'd rather not discuss. I didn't know ..."

"Ben, there's no need to apologize. How could you have known?" She formed a brave smile and said, "Until I was eighteen I moved around from the orphanage and foster home to foster home. From a small trust fund, I was able to find a place to live and get into college."

"A trust fund, you say?" I asked. "Surely there was the name of a benefactor or the executor..."

She shrugged her shoulders again, "Nope. My access to the fund was all done through a P.O. box, to an anonymous lawyer I assume."

I narrowed my eyes and posed, "A blind trust? Set up by your ... father?"

"I think so. I have felt for some time that he has actually been a part of my life all along, but from behind a dark cloak of secrecy."

"Susan, when this thing with Michelle and Michael is cleared up, I'd like to help you find the answers to those questions."

She shook her head, "I don't know if I really want to know at this point in my life, Ben. I've survived just fine this long without knowing."

"If you insist. However, the offer stands," I answered. I stood up and stretched my arms. "I think it's time to change the subject, don't you?" She nodded as I removed the paper Sgt. O'Day had given me from my pocket and spread it on the table.

Susan got up and moved next me. She looked upon the list. Placing a finger on the document she traced a path from the top of the page to the bottom and back to the top. "That's funny. Did you notice that ... it's not on the list?" she asked.

"The Portland Street warehouse? Nice observation, Susan. Yes, I did notice that," I stated. "I wonder why?"

"Maybe there's nothing there of importance?" she suggested.

"Perhaps," I said. "Or maybe, it has been omitted deliberately to throw me off the trail."

Susan looked at me, curiosity pursing her lips, "Are you suggesting that they know you have that list?"

I ignored her question and pointed at one of the addresses and said, "Will you look at that? It's the same address as the old Check Mate Lounge!"

A broad smile appeared on her face, "It's where we met eight years ago. How romantic, no? I wonder what's there now." I placed my finger beneath the address on the list and Susan read aloud, "Neural Integration & Mental Holography? Ben, look at the initials."

"Interesting." I offered, "N.I.M.H."


(To be continued in part 21 on Friday 2/6, with The Secret of N.I.M.H..)

№ 1599

Wintertime Blues

Thankfully the thermometers around here hit 40° today. That gave me the opportunity to finally clear my driveway of ice. I've been throwing rock salt around for several days, but any melting would promptly refreeze.

Old Man Winter sure was being one ornery icon for most of January. He gave us over 50" of snow, an ice storm, two snowfalls that turned over to sleet, and 20 some days with below freezing temperatures. Only on one occasion did we have consecutive days of above freezing temps, and that was for only two days.


One thing I hate about snow, is cleaning it off our vehicles.
The secret is to keep the vehicles warm!

For the past three years, immediately following the Super Bowl, I have posted a recap of the game as well as the commercials. I will have the recap jotted down, but will be unable to get it posted within a reasonable time for today.

With the next installment of the current short story, "The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray," due to be posted tomorrow, I will run the Super Bowl XLIII recap on Tuesday.

While I'm not particularly fond of Bruce Springsteen, I will have to admit that this was one of the better Super Bowl halftime shows I've seen.



An oldie for sure, but it's still funny. It was pulled and not allowed to run during Super Bowl XLI in 2007.

№ 1598