Thursday, March 19, 2015

Adventures in problem solving

Hemlock answers your questions

Jonathan Hemlock was born in a house he helped his father build.  This is a lie.  A midwife delivered him.  He came into the world quietly.  He was immediately held upside down and slapped.  It stung.  He cried.  This seemed to make everybody happy, so he continued doing it for the next two years. But that's another story.

Jonathan started school when he was five.  The first day, he cried, kicked and screamed.  The next day things were much better.  He only cried.  The third day a fellow student requested that he not cry any more or she would beat the crap out of him. He was immediately smittened by the girl named Terry.   She became his protector.  He wanted to marry Terry when he got old enough.  Terry just laughed and said, "not gonna happen."  Terry's companion, Pat, agreed.  But that's another story.

Jonathan graduated from high school to the amazement of almost everyone. (when he got 74 on his IQ test he thought he did really well, thinking that a passing grade was 65.)

He went to college where he was required to hand in papers, do things with books, look through microscopes, stand up and make speeches.  Jonathan deferred from doing these tasks.  He decided to memorize the student directory which was a much more profitable venture.  
Jonathan didn't actually memorize everyone,  just the important people.  The important people who frequented the Central Valley Tavern, The local college watering hole.  People would be shocked that Hemlock knew who they were, where they lived, what classes they were taking.  They would buy him a beer or two.  It was great.   But that's another story.
His social life was wonderful and strangely he passed all his courses except for his nemesis, math.
College life was not for Hemlock.  He wanted to go to the College of Life.  What a mistake.
Who knew the College of Life would have such courses as toilet bowl cleaning,  ditch digging, garbage pick ups, talking to all sorts of miserable human beings.
Jonathan did learn Computer Accounting, Bookkeeping, Psychology, Sociology, Word Processing, Excel,  Access, Photoshop and Janitorial Technologies. But that's another story.

He has become a mystery writer, still unpublished.  His main character's name is Colt Brandisher; in the current story, Colt is about to be killed in the first paragraph and Jonathan hasn't figured a way out of it.

So far, Jonathan has been a criminal profiler, a mosaic artist, a hoarder of used toilet paper, advice columnist, editorial writer, philosopher, and solver of dilemmas.  But that's another story, especially the part about hoarding used toilet paper.

First question: 
From Mr. B.O. in D.C.:
Why is my hair turning gray while the rest of me is staying the same?
*To answer your second question first, you are the president of the United States and second your hair is not gray. It is black and white, like you.  There are no gray hairs in your head, only white and black.

From Dr. Ben Carson:
Did I make a boo-boo when I talked about the gay/prison thing?
*Gosh Ben, I believe you did.  Didn't you learn anything from Scott Walker.  He has no opinion on anything.  It is better to keep quiet and let people think you're a fool than to speak up and erase all doubt.

From the Republican Party:
Why do people laugh when I talk?
*Because you say stupid stuff. (see above)

From the Democratic Party:
Why do people laugh when I talk?
*See above

From Sven from Sweden:
My wife is American.  She keeps referring to the roof of her mouth.  Does she mean the ceiling of her mouth?  I looked in her mouth while she was sleeping.  She has a ceiling not a roof.  The roof would be on top of her head.  Am I right?
*Wrong Sven, but what can you expect from people who rejected the metric system and elected George Dubbaya twice and elected  Jimmy the peanut farmer.

Biff from Beverly Hills wants to know:
Are there any white girls named Laqueisha?

Queen Elizabeth of England queried:
A priest, an alcoholic, an Irishman, and a pedophile go into a bar.  What does the bartender say?
*"What will you be drinking tonight, Monsignor?"

William Cosby, formerly of  Philadelphia enquires:
Would any of you ladies reporters like some liquid refreshment in my bedroom?  Yikes!!!!
*"You didn't know Barbra Walters was there, did you, William?"

 Biff from Beverly Hills wants to know:
Are there any Afro-American couples with the name Biff and/or Buffy?

Mike L. from upstate NY wants to know:
What do you think of the idea of changing a team's name like the Washington Redskins to something  less offensive?
*Good question, Mike!!!  I think you have to be very careful if you change the name.  My high school team changed their name from the Cheever Red Chiefs to the Cheever Chickadees.  That happened 8 years ago.  They didn't win again until this year.  They beat the Taylorville Titmouses in football, but were stomped by the Hammond Pond Hummingbirds the very next week.  Apparently chickadees do not inspire great sports teams.

As for the Washington Redskins why change it.  Let's stick with the current theme in Washington where everything is offensive.  

Mother Goose queried:
Hey….I never said Humpty Dumpty was an egg.  Where does it say that?
*Ummm!……by God, the old hag is right.

Adam and Eve interject:
"While we are on the subject, no apple! no snake! Who's spreading this propaganda?"
*Ah! again…I have no idea where this stuff is coming from,  ask Moses how many chickadees he has on the ark.

Dave D. of Vermont wants to know:
"Jonathan, do you play any sports?"
*"Yes, I play goal for the Manchester Untied Dyslexic Football Meat."

Biff from  Beverly Hills  wants to know:
Are there…
*We're done, Biff!…We're so done.

Any future inquiries should be sent to wikipedia, google or Kanye West. (They know everything)

Friday, March 6, 2015

The Hemlock agency (Profiler extraordinaire)

J. Hemlock
Street address
City, State, Zip

Hemlock muttering:
"Hmmm! let's see how this looks.  I certainly don't want bad fonts.
This looks okay.  I will finish it and send it to the printer."

Little French Lady interjects: (looking over Hemlock's shoulder.)
"What now, Sherlock?"

JH; "Profiling.  I am starting a new career.  I can do this.  I have read two books by John Douglas, the famous FBI profiler and one by Pat Brown.  Douglas profiled the Green River killer and the killer was caught."
LFL: "Yeah, they caught him, I'll give you that.  It took over 30 years and he slaughtered half the state of Washington."
JH:"What about Pat Brown, the female profiler?"
LFL:"I read her book, The Profiler.  Everyone she profiled is still walking the street."
JH: "The wheels of justice turn slowly."
LFL: "So who killed JFK?"
JH: "Hitler! Shave that mustache, who do you have? Lee Harvey Oswald, that's who!"
LFL:"Who killed Oswald, Sherlock?"
JH:" Elementary, Watson…umm, it was Jegdar Hover. Clearly the body shape of this so called Jack Ruby is identical to Jegdar Hover.
LFL: (rolling eyes) "Jegdar Hover?  Who's that?"
JH: "He is the crossdressing butterball who was director of the FBI."
LFL: "Oh…You mean J. Edgar Hoover."
JH: "What…ever!  Hey, did you know that the FBI has almost as many fingerprints as KKA?"
LFL: "KKA?"  JH: "Kim Kardashian's ass!"
LFL: "Are you working on any new cases, Inspector Clouseau?"
JH: "I am.  I am sending some information to the FBI about the Finkleburg suicide."
LFL: "Suicide?  I thought this guy was beheaded and both his hands and feet were cut off.  How can that be a suicide? IT WAS MURDER!!!"
JH:"I haven't worked out all the details yet, but it was suicide. I know people"
LFL:"You are so obtuse and clueless. Remember the incident at the beach gazebo Monday. You soiled yourself when the big black guy dressed in black sneezed.  You ran up the beach hollering "Serial Killer,  serial Killer." You almost created an incident.  A profiler indeed."
JH:  "How did I know he was a black Catholic priest.  That does not exclude him from being a serial killer or a pedo guy."
LFL:"OMG!!!!!…give it up!"
JH: "Hell, no!  I am good at this profiling thing.  See that guy walking down the street.  I will profile him.  He is a fisherman who is gay.  He has an artificial limb and he talks with a lisp.  He drives a 1965 Kharman Ghia and his hobby is killing squirrels. He is going to the beach to get rid of the body he has in that white bag he is dragging behind him."
LFL: "Oh, that wasn't too bad.  Yes,  He is a fisherman.  That is our neighbor Kevin going fishing.  I think the fishing pole was a clue there.  Everything else…wrong! The white bag with the body is actually his dog, Meg.  He is taking Meg fishing.  His wife, Wendy will be surprised to find out that he is gay and has an artificial limb."
JH: "Profiling is not an exact science.  You don't hit the bullseye every time. I think I am due for another eye exam."
LFL: "Well, Charlie Chan.  You had better find another career.  Perhaps you can become an internet troll. You know nothing about profiling.  You can't even define profiling."
JH:"Sure I can.  When you see an Irish guy….think of a drunk.  A Jewish guy….cheap.  A Chinese guy…smart.  An Arab guy….terrorist.  Do you want me to go on?"
LFL:"No, no!! You're…..unbelieveable!!!!…You should consider psychotherapy."
JH: "Can you take classes for that?  I may be too old to start.  Maybe next semester."

Sunday, February 15, 2015


I started to journal a year ago.

April 1, 2014 (Journal entry)

I awoke this morning with a cranium packed with mirthful schemes to make this an exciting April fools day.  (I wonder if people are going to buy this story?  I just won't mention to anyone that it is August 20th.)

Perhaps I will do the old "dog poop in a bag" trick.  This could be problematic.  We do not have any paper bags.  We have plastic bags.  We always used to be asked "paper or plastic?"  The clerk doesn't ask any more.  The groceries are shoved into a thin plastic bag which disintegrates half way to your car.

The LFL (little french lady) decided to smear the doggie doo all over our neighbors door handle.  This is actually more efficient.  My back up plan was to paint his house with a new shade of paint called limburg cheese.  When it dries in the sun…yum, yum!!
We will go with my plan.

You cannot buy this at Sherwin Williams.
I will report the results in my next journal entry.  Tomorrow…..April 2nd.

August 20,2014 (oops), April 2nd, 2014 (Journal entry)

Ummm…I forgot to factor in the wind with the Limburg cheese…ummm paint.  It doesn't smell good especially in the heat. I should have remembered this from college.  Someone put Limburg cheese on the radiators in the communal shower room in the dorm.  No one took showers for weeks.  The Agricultural students were not even allowed into the dorm.  They already were stinky.

We have rented a motel for a few weeks or until the essence abates.

April 3rd, 2014 (Journal entry)

I am sitting here drinking my morning coffee and reading the paper.  I read that they have the Ebola virus under control in West Africa.  The Israeli and the Palestinian are getting along well and since the American left Iraq everything is running like a well oiled machine.  Well…finally some good news!!!

April 4th 2014 (Journal entry)

Some nights I have trouble sleeping.   I think about things.  Since the Limburg incident my wife (LFL) has been cooking strangely, but this morning she has explained her logic.

We have been eating beans, pickled eggs, cabbage, bananas, prunes, broccoli and cauliflower to name a few items.
"Why?", I queried
The little french lady reasoned: If we can't get rid of the Limburg cheese smell, we can use it as subterfuge to get rid of our flatulent inducing foods.   I like the way this lady stinks thinks.    She also mentioned a couple of benefits from this.  We are heating our house with gas this week and we haven't had many visitors.  The Jehovah Witnesses did not stay long at all.  They just kinda threw a Watchtower at us and ran.  I hollered, "Bless You."

The wife always said, "When life give you a lemon make lemonade."
We did.

April 5th, 2014 (Journal entry)

Speaking of subterfuge, it is getting more difficult to fool my wife.  I have told her I was journaling every day.  I haven't written a word in about 130 days.  Hmmm,   maybe I shouldn't write this into my fake journal.
I have been doing things.  I have read a whole bunch of books.  Most of them don't have pictures.  I have my socks all rolled and my underwear and T-shirts have never looked neater.  I put them in color order after I ironed them.  The LFL doesn't like flatirons.  I do.  

Sometimes I am a tad obsessive compulsive.  I once asked the guy who was in charge of the cemetery how much work it would be to put the grave stones in alphabetical order.  He said, "A lot. You would have to dig up all the bodies."
But not really.  Who would know? Who would care?  I had him thinking for a few minutes.  So I have been doing things that require deep thought.

April 6th 2014 (Journal entry)

I have been thinking about my autobiography.  I think I will have someone write it for me. LFL says "No,  That will be a biography."  I told her I will call my friend, Stephen King.  He will help me.
She said, "Good luck with that one."  I decided not to call.  I may need some help at some point.
I can't call my friend, Stuart Woods.  We're not on speaking terms. Never were.  I asked him to help me out of a writing dilemma. (My main character, Colt Brandisher, has a bullet racing towards his head in the first paragraph.)  He actually emailed me and said, "You got yourself into this, get yourself out."

Thanks, big boy!!  Colt is as good as dead.

April 7th 2014 (Journal entry)

My OCD is acting up again.  I cannot read a book without putting every word in alphabetical order and I demanded to the LFL that my alphabet soup only have vowels. It is slow going.  I have washed the cat three times today.  I am ready to wash her again but I can't find her.
I am trying to get the LFL to become a lawyer.  We watch Judge Judy and the Peoples Court every day.  She has learned a lot about the law in the USA.    The problem with LFL is; She would have many of these people executed for stupidity.  She could probably do the Doctor Phil show too. We often turn each other and ask, "Where do they find these people?   Crazies!!!!!

I think I am getting caught up on my blogging.

I would love to write more but I have used up my supply of vowels for the day.
Gxttx gx!!!

Saturday, February 14, 2015

It is what it is…and other meaningful thoughts.


The solution to many of life's problems can usually be solved by a little creativity.  In fact the little French lady and I thought of a solution to one of our major complaints.

We thought it would be a wonderful idea if the state and federal powers would make it legal for a citizen to shoot another citizen that was texting while driving or talking on their cellphone.  We quickly realize that our logic was flawed.  We simply could not afford that much ammunition to get the job done.

Would anyone be surprised if Bruce Jenner came out and said he was raped by Bill Cosby?
Would anyone be surprised if Bruce Jenner came out with a women's sports clothing line for big muscular women at Target?
Would anyone be surprised if Bruce Jenner's rear end collision was not his first?
Would it surprise you if Bruce said to (step-daughter) Kim Kardasian,  "How long are you going to drag that big ass around?"…  and he was talking about Kanye West.

Moving on
3 dots is considered good grammar, 4…not so much.  There is a name for three dots. Ellipsis.
Ellipsis?….Huh!…?  Oops!

My bank problem.  My bank charged me an overdraft fee.  They know that I already don't have enough money.  They told me.  Why are they charging me?  Don't they get it?  Obtuse or what?

My wife asked me why Tarzan doesn't have a beard.   Does anyone have an answer?

I must be getting old.  I purchased a term life insurance policy.  The first payment was higher than the face value.   This might be a bad investment.

Zen sarcasm:
Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me the hell alone.

Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.

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

Life at home:
My wife hid my air guitar.

I just read a book about the Stockholm Syndrome.  It wasn't very good at first but towards the end I kinda liked it.

My wife sent me out to buy some cheap meat.  I returned with  10 pound of deer testicles.  I got them cheap…..under a buck.

My budding writing career.

I have been thinking about writing my autobiography.
No….no!!! Not the one that says….Jon went to his eternal whatever today surrounded by his family.
"Hey…why are you surrounding me?…back up!!!!"
That is called an obituary.

I want mine to start like James Michener novel and end like the bible apocalypse.  Both excellent fiction, just like my autobiography.  Oh, I can throw in a few seeds of truth and see what falsehood I can propagate from that,  just like Brian Williams.

Today I went to my blogger profile page to update my biography.  I quickly realized that nothing has changed.  I am as boring as I was in 2009.

I was going to add a couple of things but I already had enough information.  You don't really need to know about my bowel movements. NOTE: calculating bowel movement when you are a senior citizen is an inprecise science.  Maybe it should be considered an art, not a science,  but I digress in my babbling.

Let me do a personal inventory of my life since 2009.
I am older,  I have less hair,  I do not see as well,  I do not hear as well.  I have a new cat and a new wristwatch.  That's it!!!   Some of my friends have had some great adventures.   I could steal their lives.

I will write their lives. It will be great.
Sadly, I will not be able to go on any book tours after it is published.
I am not a good liar.  I could not stand in front of an audience and lie.
I would start to sweat profusely, stutter like crazy, hysterical weeping, diarrhea, and projectile vomiting may be involved.

I think I can do this writing thing.  My friends, James Patterson and Ernest Hemingway John Grisham agree.

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Can you hear me now? NO?


The hardest part of blogging is starting again.   I have many ideas, but the problem with writing is that real life sometime intervenes. The little French lady and I have some health issues that we are getting resolved.  It has brought our nerves a little closer to the surface.  We get annoyed more easily.  We are getting annoyed with people especially the ones we see on television.  Examples below.

Dr. Phil
I ask myself everyday why Doctor Phil needs a drummer.  We start to watch the episode and suddenly Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa start practicing.
My wife turns to me and says, " What did Dr. Phil say?'
"I think he said something about boom boom sex boom two sided pancake rodeo."
"Umm…maybe.  I heard something about a pancake rodeo,  I threw in the sex thing."  We don't have a clue what the Doctor Phil show is about anymore.  We haven't for several years.
Perhaps the drummer knows.

Pawn Stars

We have been watching Pawn stars this year.  We used to watch Hardcore Pawn, where Ashley and Seth insult each other continuously and the father, Les Gold, just stands there in his leather jacket with his mouth wide open and his eyes wide in disbelief at the spectacle of his son and daughter having a fist fight over who is going to run the company when Les drops dead of a heart attack, which appears imminent.

We looked at each other one night while watching Hardcore Pawn.  The little French lady's mouth was wide open and her eyes were wide in disbelief.  She turned to me and said, "Why are you drooling?" The answer was because I was watching Hardcore Pawn and Ashley, Seth and Les were once again fighting and my mouth was wide open.  I tend to drool when I leave my mouth open for more than 30 straight minutes.  That was the last episode we watched.

We watch Pawn Stars now.  The stars are the Harrison family, a pleasantly unattractive family made up of the old man, Rick, and Corey; Chumley (a friend) is the comic relief.  The Harrisons are a lot more fun to watch.  The whole family plus Chumley went on a diet and everyone lost a lot of weight.  No one  got much better looking. They are, to put it delicately, "big boned" and "big uglied."

The characters are: Richard Harrison Sr. (The Old Man).  His job is to sit at his desk and be grumpy or asleep.  He is the patriarch and the pawn star emeritus of the show.  He rarely does anything but bitch, eat and sleep at his desk.  I haven't seen a wheel chair so I assume he can still walk, but he doesn't .

Rick jr. is the guy who seems to be in charge.  He is a very knowledgeable guy. He knows plenty but he often refers to experts in certain fields.  The irritating thing about Rick is his laughter. He will just bust out with a chuckle or chortle over things that are not funny.

Corey is Rick's son.  He has just a delightful personality….I am told.  His main job is to get Chumley to annoy Rick.  Corey lost 192 pounds.  Impressive. The Little French Lady does not like him much, because he disrespects Rick jr. a lot.

Chumley is the star of the show.  His job is to scheme up ways to do very little work and annoy Rick. We believe the producers of the show make Chumley look like he has an IQ somewhere between 5 and 50.  He plays the part well.  They have shown a few segments where Chumley was pretty intelligent.
Some of his schemes are brilliant but doomed to failure in the end.

Person of Interest/The Blacklist

These two shows are interchangeable.  The only real difference is the whispering.  The main characters of POI is John Reese, a former CIA muscle guy and Harold (insert bird name here).  They whisper a lot.
I couldn't hear what they were saying.   I outsmarted them.  I put it on closed caption.

The whispering was in real small letters.  They outsmarted me.

I purchased a 62 inch TV through Medicare. I could read the captions.  I told Medicare it was a hearing aid.  I didn't lie.  I outsmarted everybody…except the little French Lady.  She hates it when something is scrolling at the bottom of the screen.  She disabled CC.
She still asks me what is happening.  I tell her I haven't heard anything but whispers since the first show and I haven't understood the plot since the second show.

Since The Blacklist is running the same plot line I get my thirst for murder and mayhem quench at that troth.  I also find that James Spader is as deviously good as Raymond Reddington.  He has a body count in this show that the "American Sniper" would envy.

POI will end the series when Harold's last name is Buzzard or Vulture.
Blacklist will end when Harold disables Samaritan and puts his own machine back on line which will help Raymond Reddington find the bad guys from the Blacklist.

Well, I guess I wrapped up that package nicely.  Now if I can can get Reddington to kill the drummer on Doctor Phil.  That will be the nice little bow on the package.

I told you they were interchangeable.

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

The unmaking of the bed.


I creep towards the stairs.   I lift my head and look towards the living room window.  Our cat Madison hasn't noticed me.  She is under the window.  Her tail is wagging with vigour as little clucking sounds emanate from her mouth.  The bird feeder must be very busy today.

I would love to toss that Mourning Dove to the ground.
I slowly get to my feet and quietly tiptoe up the carpeted stairs. As I reach the landing, one of the stairs makes a creaking sound.  I stop.  Beads of sweat appear on my forehead.  I do not move for two minutes.  Whew! That was close.  I continue my ascent till I reach step # 14. The top stair.  I did it.  I have never made it this far unnoticed.  I am giddy with success.

Wow! I could have been a CIA agent, an assassin, a burglar.  
A cat burglar, but who steals cats anymore?  I am good at this.  I could teach classes.  You just have to move slowly and not fall down too much.  The moving slowly part is easy for senior citizens.  The falling down thing, not so much.


Anyway….I continue to move slowly towards the bed which is only ten feet away.  I glance back as I reach the corner of the bed.  I move to the top of the bed and pull the sheets tight to get out any wrinkles. I must move quickly. I do both pillows. Perspiration drips down my nose and onto my wife's pillow case.  

Damn!  Oh well, the damage is done.  I take off the pillow case and wipe my brow.  I pull the blanket to the top of the bed.  I look back over my shoulder at the staircase.  This is where I see her lurking three stairs from the top.  Watching me.  Ready. 
She isn't there.  I exhale. I am drenched.
I quietly remove my t-shirt and wipe my clammy upper body with it.  I continue to straighten the bed. I move toward the comforter.  Her favorite part of the bed.  I look back at the stairs.  She really is hiding well, this time. 

Whew! It is really warm in here.  I think I will take off some of these clothes.  I remove my sweatpants. Oh..what to heck,  I will remove my smiley face boxer  briefs.  I will be doing laundry later.

I slowly put the comforter on the bottom of the bed. I start to unfold it.  I scan the room.  I look back at the staircase.  This is where she fly onto the bed like Superman.  She doesn't walk to the bed, she doesn't run to the bed.  She soars in from some mysterious place and lands on some critical fold of the comforter,  making it impossible to continue without some sort of feline/human combat.

I continue to pull the comforter to the top of the bed. Done.  The pillows next.  Done.  I exhale and then     I scream, "YES!!!!!….YES!!!!!"  My right arm is pumping furiously.
Location, location, location.


As it turns out,  my wife was entertaining our new friend, Janie.  I should say a former new friend.  When they heard me screaming, they ran up the stairs and were greeted by a sweaty, wild eyed naked man pumping his arm wildly.
Janie ran down the stairs and exited the house through the front door, and I mean THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR.  She didn't  even bother to open the door.  She went through the screen hollering, "He's crazy! He's crazy."  This would not be so alarming except for the fact that she is a psychiatric nurse.

This whole incident upset Madison so much that she vomited into the heat register in front of the living room window.

I realized later that I really enjoy her "helping" me make the bed and I would miss it if she didn't do it.  I went upstairs and messed up the bed, and called her.  She lurked on the third stair from the top.
All is well.  I missed this more than she did.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

The Victim's Club

Victim 1

What have you women done?  This poor guy is going to have to sign up for unemployment or worse yet, welfare.  A life ruined.  His good name besmirched.

Victim 2

Hey! What about me?  I was besmirched also.  When I coached, I liked good clean play.  That is why I showered with my players…..and their children.  Cleanliness.   Well, at least I still get to shower with the guys.

Victim 3

Sure, sure!!!  I forgot where I put my kid for a month and everybody gets their panties in a big wedgie.
I told them I left her at Shelema Gomez's condo or was it Demi Gonzales' house.  Whatever!!!!!! At least some of the people think my Dad is a douchebag.  It took some of the pressure off me.

I probably won't get my job back at Universal.  I think I will apply for the job of Snow White at Disney World.  I do have great acting and storytelling skills on my resume.

victim 4

Yo! Casey!!!!…..Yo!…. Hey, I have experience finding bad people.  I can help you.  I will help you find Shaina Lopez.  Are there any par 72 golf courses where you live?
I sent you this picture of me trying on golf work gloves.  These seemed a tad loose so I soaked them for a while.
I am working out a sports memorabilia problem and as soon as it is solved, I will, of course,  link up with you.

I may rent a car.  Do they still make the VW Golf?
Now….if you will excuse me, I have to go wash my balls.