Life Philosophy 101 for the squirrelly senior citizens

In Montreal

2012-05-22T11:22:00.000-07:00

Bonjour...y'all...y'all!

We are in Montreal. We will be here for a while. I have taken a few pictures. It has been pretty exciting. Wilson had a rough trip from Myrtle Beach. As you can see, he has bounced back.

This is Atwater Metro station. Pretty quiet. It's not usually like this.

clean...heh?

Time to head downtown. a metro shows up about every 12 minutes on weekends, more often during the week.

Looking downtown from our building. Montreal has no really tall skyscrapers. No building can be higher than Mount Royal, which is in the middle of the city,

Lachine Canal bike trail. bikes are big in Montreal. You can rent a bike through Bixi.

Students in Montreal have been protesting for 100 days. Last night they marched by our apartment. I would guess there was at least 10,000 marchers. It took about 20 minutes for them all to pass by. This pic was taken from near the top of our building.

note: There are bike lanes on most of the streets.

Montreal notes

The people of Montreal are very friendly folks. If you speak English and you try to sprinkle in a little French, they really appreciate the effort. If you act like "The Ugly American" they don't care for that very much. This is Quebec. Most people speak French. Speaking louder to them does not make them understand any better.The area we live is an area where a lot of people are bilingual. They can switch languages on a dime. Don't expect that outside of Montreal.

Montreal is an island.

Milk is in bags in Quebec.

Creton is tasty.

A lot of graffiti in Montreal.

I haven't eaten any of the French stuff called Pontoon...? ...putain?...pantaloon?..putang?

wait a minute, I'll ask my wife........!!!!

IT'S POUTINE!!!!

It is the equivalent to Quebec that grits is to South Carolina.

Money?...only 1$ and 2$ coins (Loonies and toonies) and yes, the dollar sign is after the amount.

Quebecois is very much alive. In fact, one of the main streets of Montreal, Rene Levesque changes to an English name after Avenue Atwater. It is then Dorchester. This did not please the French Quebecois.

St. Hubert Chicken is the best.

I have walked a lot since arriving here. Our apartment has a walkscore of 100. (perfect) on Padmapper.

I can look out my window and see the Metro station and a large 3 story shopping mall across the street. Cabot Park is close by, as is a library. Great location.

Adios everyone....ummm...That didn't sound right.

Bonjour.

Yo...Dude! (reviewing Hemlock blog)

2012-04-16T16:01:00.001-07:00

In recent weeks I noticed that the number of hits on my blog has been diminishing on google analyticals. My three regular readers are starting to waver.

I asked a few of my “friends” to review my blog and give an honest assessment of my writings.

Yo....Dude!

Let’s begin:

Randy Jackson of American idol: Dude

“Dude….Yo…Dude…Yo…..ridiculously good…yo,Dude, I think you’re in it to win it. Yo, Dude.”

Jennifer Lopez:

"I was moved to tears by your last blog. You have the talent but you must bring it to the next level. You can’t keep playing it safe.”

Steven Tyler:

"Your range of talent is wider than Randy Jackson’s ass, funnier than my wardrobe and has more eye catching range than Jennifer Lopez’s butt."

Randy Jackson: “Yo….dude..yo…yo…..yoyo…Yo…dude!”

Howie Mandell of America’s Got Talent:

“I was touched by your blogs. Here’s the thing. DON’T TOUCH ME. I don’t like being touched.”

Sharon Osborne:

“I didn’t understand the humour, but Ozzie explained it to me. Now I understand.”

Piers Morgan:

“Drivel, absolute and pure drivel. Change your shoes, changes your socks, change your underwear, change your blog and you could capture the American public. They will love it.”

Donald Trump:

“You are wonderfully talented .. but ..You're fired. Piers, you're fired too. Randy…fired! Hemlock? who?”

Stuart Woods:

“Yo…dude…yo…Stone Barrington loves it. His hero is Colt Brandisher.”

Huh? That didn’t sound much like Stuart Woods.

Clark Kent of the Daily Planet says:

“A super blog. Almost more powerful than a locomotive.”

Bruce Wayne of Gotham City says:

"Don’t bother me right now, Hemlock! I have my own problems. I have to go to court today.

Let me give you a bit of advice, my friend. Don’t take a 15 year old boy into your house, put him in tights and a cape, name him Robin. I dress myself up in tights, cape and a mask, keep the kid in a basement cave for 40 years and expect gratitude. He is suing me for every penny I am worth. He says I molested him. I know it looks bad. I wrestled and boxed with him but that was training.

My manservant, Alfred, has turned against me. Alfred said he heard a lot of “bam, boom, pow” coming from the basement. It was training, nothing inappropriate. well, I may have touched Robin’s cute little butt occasionally. Nothing sexual, Really.

Well, I did peck him on the cheek once or twice. No tongue involved….except that day I was very lonesome. The kid was a hottie…I gotta go. Great blog."

Hemlock: “Thanks Bruce for the glowing review. Hmmmm! TMI!”

Randy Jackson:

“Yo…Bruce….Dude…Yo. Be in it to win it. Yo.”

Ozzie Osborne:”Wha….who win? Where my frog? umm.da dooba.. Damn you, frog. wha..yo..wha..yoyo…doodoo? good,…good?”

David Hasselhoff: “Hemlock, a beer and your blog is all I need to find happiness. You could ~~throw up~~ throw in a hamburger and I am a happy boy.”

Clarence Thomas, Supreme court judge:

“Dude…dude…Randy has a big butt. This is my judgement. Jennifer Lopez?…her ass is three happy meals from catching up with Randy’s butt. Steven Tyler…How would you like to meet that dude in a dark alley at 2 am? Fun….not!!!! Hemlock your blog was judged. It was 5 to 4. Happy now? Yo…dude.”

Rush Limbaugh (American know-it-all)

“Hemlock, You are a left wing, nut job slut. Your blog will be the downfall of all good american values such as owning an Uzi, texting while driving, the right to bash gay people and other fun stuff. Don’t try to confuse me with common sense. I don’t care that you have been a registered republican since 1963, I don’t like your communistic anti-god, gay loving blog, you writing whore!!!!"

Randy Jackson:

“Yo…..Limbaugh Dude..Yo….Your ass is fatter than mine. Your fat ass goes all the way to the top of your Charlie Brown head. Yo…Dude.”

Andy Rooney:

“Don’t you just hate it when you die suddenly? It ruined my vacation plans. I was going to catch up on Hemlock’s blog. He is one of my favorites."

"Don’t you just hate it when you get to the pearly gates and there is a waiting line? Why do they call it the pearly gates? I saw no pearls or no one named pearl. Hey, There’s Mike Wallace and Ed Bradley. They are arguing over who is going to interview God. Don’t you hate it when you get to heaven and people are arguing about who is going to interview God?”

George Bush former President and comedian.

"After reading Henrock's blogs I had an ephifory. I realized I should be saying epiphany. I must now change my life strawtiggery."

Randy Jackson:

“Yo… Hemlock dude…..Does this culotte make my ass look big? It isn’t a culotte, dude? It’s my boxer shorts. Yo…dude.”

Lady Gaga: "Hemlock’s blogs are pretentious and contrived. I ought to know."

Steven Hawking: physicist and actor on “Big Bang Theory”

“I don’t talk much, but if I could I would say that Hemlock’s blog is pure genius and if Shakespeare was alive today he would say. 'Wow. I’m old and Hemlock is great.'”

Helen Keller Junior:

"A winner at the braille blog of the month club."

Kanye West: singer and world foremost authority on the Arts

"Hemlock, not bad, but Beyonce's blog is really much better. Aorry, not really."

Internet reviews: (the vote is in)

LOL count 172

LMAO count 269

WTF? count 13,482

WYSIWYG count 128

2G2B4G count 3

Stop! AAAAA (American Association Against Acronym Abuse) count 3477

Meh count 211

TBD count 687

other count 8

Yo.....OK! The vote is in. It has been decided. Randy Jackson needs a dictionary to enhance his limited vocabulary.......Dude!

As Judge Judy would say...RIDICULOUS!!!!!

The blog. It will survive.

CASE STUDY: The current job market is hell in Vegas.

2012-04-02T05:49:00.003-07:00

Transcript of interview of an unskilled/semiskilled laborer

Resume Review: Jesus is a single 33 year home schooled individual. He was born in the little town of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and grew up in nearby Nazareth PA. He has a spotty work history. He has worked with his father as a carpenter's assistant. He was given a battery of aptitude and psychological test. He tested high for carpentry ability but it is noted that he has an strong aversion for hammers and nail, especially spikes. He tested highly in the food preparation field. When tested with a box of Pillsbury biscuit mix and a dozen eggs, he made enough biscuits to serve one hundred and thirty four people.

He has high leadership and verbal skills. He has eleven friends...oops, make that twelve...waiting for him in the lobby. They seem to follow him around and take note of everything he says.

Eleven of them have MacBooks and one has a Dell laptop. The Dell guy seems to be mumbling a lot.

The Interview: Human Resource Representative (HR) , Seamus Sen Gupta

HR: "Please be seated, Jesus" (pronounced hay-soos)
Jesus: "That would be Jesus, Jee-sus, Sir."
HR: "I see. I noticed on your application you did not put down a middle name or initial."
Jesus: "My middle name is Aich, which means savior in Aramaic, but people think I am saying H, so I left it blank."
HR: " I noticed some rather large gaps in your work history. What have you been doing since your eighteenth birthday? I see nothing for the last fourteen years.
Jesus: "Missionary work."
HR: "Are you one of those Mormons, or a Jehovah Witness? Which one?"
Jesus: "Neither, I am a Jewish Christian."
HR: "As Doctor Phil would say, How's that working for you?"
Jesus: " Well, not so bad. When I moved to Vegas things improved quickly. I found a very nice homeless shelter. I then sent my friends, Peter and Paul to the Flamingo Hotel roulette table and told them to bet on red 7.Ummm...We are now set for the next year.

I am not in a homeless shelter any more."

HR: "I see here that you now own a car but you do not own a driver's license or insurance. What's up with that?"

Jesus: "I have faith in my driving skills. No accidents since the time I let Judah drive my car. He got a DWI and a summons for resisting."

HR: "It's kind of dangerous behavior, Jesus(hay soos)"....thought bubble (who does this guy think he is? Steve Job?)

Jesus: "That's Jee-sus, not hay..soos."

HR: "I see that your IQ scores are off the charts, your psychological profile indicates that you have a messiah complex or a Steve job complex. You are prone to defying authority figures and you tend to be preachy and self righteous Have you ever thought of getting into politics?"

Jesus: "I didn't think that politics and religion mixed until this year. I been listening to Rick Santorum, Mitt Romney, Newt Gingrich, Rich Perry and the Pope and I stand corrected. I may try politics later, but I don't think my dad wants me to get involved."

HR: "Your dad? He is very important in your life,eh? His name is Joseph?"

Jesus: "He's my adopted dad. My real dad is in heaven. Umm, my mother is a virgin."(oops...maybe I should not have mentioned that.)

HR: "Say What?"

Jesus: "Nothing."

HR: "Well, hay-soos, I have an entry level job as a clerk/cook at a bakery. Would you like to give it a try. It is the Mt. Sinai Bakery and coffee shop. It is a neat little hippie place that has great pastry and a wonderful mocha cappuccino."

Jesus: sure, it sounds wonderful. I will give it a try. The name is Jee-sus, sir."

HR: "Here is the address and referral for the job, and don't wear those sandals to the job interview."

Jesus: "Gracias, amigo and Adios."

HR: "No problem, Jesus..huh?.....what?....I knew it, I knew it. Hay-soos."

Where's my car?.....Oh...I sold it in 1964?

2012-03-28T10:35:00.001-07:00

I'm not a car man, but there are exceptions.

1939 Chevy.....Really!!!

My wife and I went to a car show a few weeks ago. My original purpose was to find a 1959 Austin Healy Sprite. I had a special place in my heart for that model car.

You see ... I did not have a drivers license when I purchased the little sports car. I figured that the only way I would ever get my license was to buy a vehicle I would enjoy driving.

It wasn't long before I had my Connecticut drivers license and I was cruising the back roads of Fairfield County with the wind blowing through my flattop haircut as I drove by Helen Keller's house and honked my horn and waved. I was single and not dating. Helen was single and I knew she wasn't seeing anyone. Life was good.

Winter arrived and with it came frozen slider windows. 1959 Sprites did not have doorhandles on the outside of the car. I couldn't get into my car unless I took the convertible top off. Not suggested during a freezing rain.

The lost Austin Healy Sprite. (bugeyes)
Note: No door handles

I had to sell it. I bought a VW bug but I still have fond memories of driving the back roads and honking at Helen. (beep!...beep!)

My car show experience made me realize that they don't make cars like that any more.
Back then, cars were sturdy and beautiful. They had character and personality. The most popular cars seem to be from the 1950's. The Chrysler products had huge vertical fins and push button shifting on the steering wheel. Ford had horizontal fins, Chevy had vertical fins and later switched to horizonal fins on some models.

All the cars of this era had a rather spacious back seat. It could hold three people vertically with comfort. It could hold two people, preferably male and a female quite nicely from the horizontal posture.
Songs were sung about these Cars and they were hit songs. remember "Beep, Beep?" How about "409" by the Beach Boys? "I get around? Little Deuce Coupe?"

There were numerous 1955 and 1957 Chevies. The Fords of that era seemed to be very popular also. I saw several Ford Skyliners. These were retractable hardtop convertibles.

Ford Skyliner w/continental kit

Old Caddy

I didn't find my car, but I found some memories. The amazing thing about the experience was that I could name off types of cars that I recognized. I was spewing facts like I was the editor of "Motor Trend magazine." I still know a 55 Chevy when I see one.

Remember the movie "American Graffiti"? That was my life. I thought my life was very much like the movie. I could have played Ron Howard's part or even Richard Dreyfuss's part, possibly even Harrison Ford's role.

My wife kinda agrees with me. She says I could have played "Terry the Toad" Field who was played by that great American actor, Charles Martin Smith. A sample of his fine work here. My wife says I could play that role with my eyes closed. She says I was born for this part.

Now all the cars look like clones of each other. I am not sure what kind of smelly big car we drove home in.
Huh....What?...... The little French Lady told me it was a city bus.

Alrighty then!!!

The Death of Colt Brandisher?

2012-03-06T12:40:00.001-08:00

Writers block solved

It has been a while since I wrote anything about my fictional character, Colt Brandisher.

For those people who tuned in late, he is a problem solving, creative minded, skirt chasing, Clint Eastwood type detective who has managed to get himself into a rather large predicament. A bullet was hurdling at Colt's head at a rather fast speed when I last checked in with him.

He has such a small brain that a bullet would not kill him, but the ricocheting inside the skull would do him in.

Actually Colt is more like Stuart Woods favorite, occasionally slow witted detective, Stone Barrington.

Stone Barrington is the type of detective that walks in dog poop and tries to figure out where the smell is coming from. He always figures it out after about an hour. He always solves the problem.

Colt isn't nearly as clever. People have told him that he has shitty shoes. He thinks they are talking about the shoe style.

I asked for Stuart Woods' help. I emailed him to describe my dilemma.

He answered, " You got yourself into this, get yourself out."

I came to the decision that Colt must die. It is the only solution. Thanks, Stuart.

Colt Brandisher will be replaced by his gay twin brother, Rock Brandisher, named in honor of Rock Hudson. (a man's man....both figuratively and literally.)

This will give me a lot of writing fodder. I can describe the death of Colt Brandisher and develop my new character, Rock.

Rock Brandisher, gay detective.

How can I incorporate all I know about gay people into my new character?

Rock's apartment is decorated in mauve and puce.
He listens only to Bette Midler and Judy Garland music.
His favorite comedian is Kathy Griffin.
He enjoys reading Truman Capote's books.
His favorite playwright is Tennessee Williams.
He hates women.
He votes for Obama.
His favorite talk show host is Rachel Maddow.
He has a closet full of women's clothing. He likes to cross dress.
He likes to go to the park next to the elementary school and eats his lunch. He always carries a pocket full of candy with him.
He hangs out at gay bars only.
He knows he is going to burn in hell so he is very promiscuous.
He knows his problem can be fixed but will not get treatment.

The little French lady is looking over my shoulder. I hear a loud gasp and an utterance that sounded very much like "WTF?"

"What?" I queried.

Wife: "You don't know much about gay people, do you?"

Me: "Just what I learned from Rick Santorum, the Westboro Baptist Church and the boys in 5th grade."

Wife: "Do you know you're very close to a Nazi?"

Me: "You're a Nazi?"

Wife: "No, no, fool!..I mean you are portraying gay people with myths and false stereotypes which is very close to being a Nazi or... a Republican candidate for president."

Me: "And your point is?....."

Wife: "Didn't you grow up with any gay people in your school?"

Me: "No, There were no gay people in my school. A few switched teams later on in life but no one was gay in my school. Students were not allowed to be gay. It was their choice to switch later on. I think they are mentally ill or it doubled their chance of getting a date on Saturday night. Only the teachers were allowed to be gay at my school."

Wife:"How many students switched teams later? Bucko!"

Me: Oh...let me see. There was Sherman, Clarise, Ricky, Wendell, Rod, Tony,...Tony?...O...M...G...!! I put my arm around Tony in football huddle once and I patted him on the ass after he scored a winning touchdown. Holy hat! I am one of them. I didn't know that. I just outed myself. I never kissed Tony, I swear. Well, maybe a little peck on the cheek. No tongue involvement. Oh, wait, I didn't do that. Forget that!"

Wife: "Hold on, dimple cheeks. You're not gay. I have it from a pretty reliable source. Your little French Lady...me!.....Ummm.....Tony?...What?"

Me: Really? Wow! That was close. I thought I had just switched teams.

Wife: "People don't really switch teams. They just don't accept it at first. They want to be like everybody else. Tell me more about this Tony thing."

Me: "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Hold everything. What are you telling me? Am I supposed to believe Rick Santorum, Republican candidate for President, The Pope, a candidate for sainthood, Mitt Romney, who thinks being gay is a choice and it can be fixed by prayer and a lobotomy or....you?"

Wife: "Me!!!! All that stuff you wrote about your character, Rock, is crap. Who's Tony?"

My wife knows a lot of stuff. I will trust her on this one. She keeps asking about Tony. What's up with that?

So I am back to the drawing board. Maybe Colt will live. Perhaps he will have a gay twin brother. I am so confused. Perhaps a female version of Colt. I could call her Rockette. No, that's not working. Writer's block again? Yeah.

Well, at least I'm not gay.

Not that there is anything wrong with that. "Right, Tony?"

Clubbing with Stoners

2012-02-27T16:41:00.002-08:00

I am seriously thinking of becoming a holy and righteous person.

My next door neighbor told me that I should get my affairs in order. I told him I am not having any affairs to keep in order. He mentioned something about December 21, 2012 being the end of time according to the Mayan calendar.

Oddly, my Penthouse calendar goes right up to December 31, 2012.

Miss December is obviously totally in the dark on the impending fate of Miss January 2013.

But that is a different issue.

My question is: Should I trust the calendar of a civilization that destroyed themselves by being engaged in warfare with neighboring states and civilizations rather than taking care of business at home? The Mayans used their natural resources to fight battles and wars.

Since I am a republican I must answer that question with a resounding "YES!"

Isn't that how this country has been managed in the 21st century? I knew the scenario sounded familiar.

Well....anyway, since the world is coming to an end shortly, I better get my affairs in order and start living a holy and righteous life.

I sold all my stuff to my wife. She says I have lost my mind. Hmmmm...I am going to have to get information on infidels and nonbelievers.

My neighbor has mentored me on bible passages. He seems to be kinda stuck on Leviticus.

So far I have been introduced to some new rules to guide my life.

I will give you a few examples.

The bible says you cannot work the sabbath. Sunday my neighbor and I went down to the St. Peter's church and threw some stones at the priest while he was giving communion and on the way home we pitched a few rocks at the cook at Kentucky Fried Chicken, but that was more about the food than the sabbath. That Mac and cheese was nasty.

Touching the skin of a dead pig is unclean. I guess this is why the NFL has showers in their locker rooms.
Homosexual men are to be executed.(Lev 20:13) No mention of homosexual women?
Entrance into the assembly of the Lord was granted only to those with complete testicles. (Duet 23:1) Say what? What's happening there? I will need the full set? For what? Who's going to check it at the door? That's a job you don't see posted very often. Testicle checker: Must have experience. Homosexual men need not apply. You will be executed. $11.50 per hour plus 401k and health plan. Ask for Monica.
Children could be stoned for stubbornness - Deuteronomy 21:18,21. I think this is a good rule. We could throw sand at stubborn infants.
Handicapped people could not approach God. Their presence would profane his sanctuary. (Lev 21:16-23) Ahh! This is good to know. I don't want to see any blind dwarfs when I arrive in heaven but I better keep taking my glaucoma meds and stand up straight.
Yikes!!!!! In the bible (Samuel 17 25-27) Saul sells his daughter to David. He didn't want dollars or shekels nor a dowry of goats and pigs. Noooooo....! Saul wanted 100 foreskins from Philistine men. David was a generous tipper so he gave 200 foreskin tips. Yeah.....and you thought tip meant To Insure Promptness. Not so!!
I have a question that has really been bothering me. My friend Darrell has been shaving and cutting the hair on his temples which is expressly forbidden in the bible.(Lev 19:27) How do I kill him? I do not care for beheading. It is too messy and I prefer group activities. I would consider stoning him to death with friends, but my stone supply is about exhausted and I need a few for tonight. We are going over to the Pink Playhouse men's club. We plan on stoning an adulterer after the show. Hmmm! Perhaps we could invite Darrell and kill two birds with one stone. Pardon the pun. Was that a pun? I will have to borrow a few shekels from my wife to get in to this den of sin.
We were mulling the idea of sacrificing a virgin but that seemed so wasteful and we couldn't find any volunteers. I have seen old movies where they were going to sacrifice a virgin and it looked like a lot of fun. All the shouting, dancing, singing and drinking tasty nectars looked interesting. It is very much like a Labor Day barbecue.

I have to go now. My neighbor is at the door. He has a bag of stones and a baseball bat. (Hank Aaron, Louisville Slugger model)

He wants to do some smiting before we go clubbing. Yes, he said to bring a club. I guess his idea of clubbing is not the same as mine.

I see live people. (surrounded by family)

2012-02-13T16:13:00.001-08:00

Whitney Houston will not be mentioned.

I tried to have a Merry Christmas. It didn’t happen. I read my hometown newspaper online every day of the week. Many of my friends and peers are mentioned in the newspaper lately. Sadly, it was in the obituaries: Ron, Jack, Barb, Dottie, and George.

I played little league with Ron and Jack. We graduated the same year. Dotty was also a classmate. Barb was a good friend, but a year ahead of me in school. George was a friend and at one time, my landlord. They all died in a three week period around Christmas.

Yikes!

Life is a cycle, thus it stands to reason that I should prepare myself as best I can. Since I spent 9 months in a fetal position before I was born I decided to prepare for my impending life event before it was too late.

I decided to get into a fetal position and wait my turn and ponder whether death is a life event.

I waited....and waited.

Nothing happened!!.....hmmmm.

Perhaps I should rethink my situation. I will read their obituaries again and see if I can see a common thread that may have contributed to their unfortunate demise.

Ok....They were old.

Well, I am not young but I certainly don’t feel old. I have a few dings, mostly chiming in my ears.

Yes, maybe occasionally I have achey body parts. Yes, I do need a computer, abacus, and a slide ruler to keep track of my medication. Yes, I am older than all of them. I am older than dirt.

I guess I can eliminate the olditude as a cause.

Maybe it was their location on the map that did them in.

Nope, they were all over the place on the map.

Perhaps they were not feeling well.

That’s it!

Luckily I feel fine.

Oh yeah, Everybody has a little twinge of something going on in their body.

Ummm...Does projectile vomiting and fainting 7 times in one day qualify as a little twinge? I have always been a fainter. I like to refer to them as unscheduled naps.

I think it is my medication. I may have to get it adjusttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt....

Huh...oh...I’m back. I think I just fainted.

Something really bothers me about obituaries. They are real downers for everyone.

Read some obituaries. There is a lot of room for creative writing.

George's obit was so grand, that one would have to rate his departure in the magnitude of importance somewhere between the death of Thomas Jefferson and the crucifiction of Jesus. George was a talented special guy, for sure. It was well written and I think he got the praise he deserved. It was wonderful to see that he was appreciated by his loved ones. George had a great obituary.

There are phrases in obits that I really find annoying.

"Surrounded by family and friends": When you are lying in bed, taking a nap and family and friends start surrounding you, get out of there or you will be dead soon.

"He/she died peacefully": Really? I am going out kicking, screaming and carrying on like mad dog. There will be nothing peaceful about it. (whewww! I think I am going to faint)

Someone said obituaries would be much more interesting if it told how the person died.

"Mary Agnes Smith passed away today while texting a naked picture of herself while driving her Mini Cooper under an 18 wheel semi. She was surrounded by her car."

That is more interesting.

I stopped going to funerals and wakes. I just hate it when the mourner try to say something nice about a deceased jerk.

• He had a unique personality. (He was nasty to everyone. Even the Pope wanted to slap him.)

• He really knew how to paint the town. (Town drunk)

• He will be missed. (Especially at the local taverns and county jail)

• He was a real family man. (Yeah...eleven kids by five different women)

• Everyone loved her. (Especially men and on a regular basis for a small fee.)

• He/she died doing what he/she loved. (Drinking, taking drugs)

• She looks so natural. (Thank God, it's a closed casket.)

I guess I will have to move forward. It isn't my time yet. I actually have high hopes of a long life. My annuity won't run out until 2066.

I will be celebrating my 124th birthday that year. You are invited to my party. My mind will be as sharp as an unused guillotine. Some of my other parts may be a tad on the dull side. Please bring a gift accordingly.

Some useful suggestions: Prunes, Depends, Viagra, some doo wop music, fixodent, orthopedic socks, orthopedic shoes, orthopedic truss, orthopedic back brace, 16x reading glasses. hearing aids, a life time subscription to AARP or two months worth; whichever last longest.

I am good with Reader's Digest. I am subscribed to that magazine until the year 2073. After that they graciously gave me a free subscription for the rest of my life.

Do you think I should shorten up my annuity? I have been feeling really goooooooooooo....

d lately.

I'm back. What happened?

Where was I? Who was I?

The goof of the magi.

2011-12-27T12:35:00.002-08:00

Christmas! Either you love it or hate it. It can be filled with joy and sadness, sometimes both.

The little French lady decided that we should have a traditional Christmas this year. I thought it was a good idea. We both discretely hinted at what we would like for Christmas.

The only hints were: I wanted an Apple product and she wanted something that smelled good or looked good. (Something other than me.)

On Christmas eve we opened our gifts. I had an iphone. I got my wife a nice sweater and a gift pack of Kama Sutra gift soaps, sprays, and perfumes. I really liked the packaging of the product. It was kinda sexy.

My wife had my iphone all set to go and I was ready to roll. I called a few friends and relatives. She called her family in Canada. We had a very nice evening.

The next day we decided we would eat out. We got all spiffied up. We were looking good. She wore her new sweater and had bathed in her new bath oils from Kama Sutra. She drove, I texted and called friends. I enjoyed texting very much. (LOL!!) I learned all the funny little smiley faces and shortcut abbreviations.

We had a very enjoyable dinner. I enjoyed eating and texting (LOL!!!) My wife...not so much.

The waitress asked, "Would you like dessert, Sir?"

Me:"CAN'T YOU SEE I AM ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW? ARE YOU BLIND?"

Waitress: "Would you like the rest of your meal in a doggie bag?"

Me: (dirty look) "WHAT...EVER...!"...Listen Mike, I gotta go. Some waitress is annoying the hell out of me. See ya!!!! (pushing a button) "Dave, sorry to keep you on hold so long, some waitress was annoying the hell out of me.....Dave?....Dave?"

Me:"NOW SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE? YOU NINNIE!!!"

Wife: "Please, let's go home. I don't feel so good."

Me: "Wow! Not only is the wait staff rude, but the food makes you sick. What a joint."(LOL!) "I'll drive. You don't look so good. Your eyes are all puffy and your breathing kinda weird."

She got in the car and immediately fell asleep.

I got her home safe and sound. It was a bit of an adventure.

As it turned out she was not asleep. She was unconscious. She had a severe reaction to the wool sweater (she had an allergic reaction) and the bathsoap and perfumes (also allergic to that). She is fine now.

I thought I would try to text while driving. It's legal. My wife was asleep. She wouldn't know. The road is nice and straight. This will be a piece of cake.

I thought things were going really well until I got about 3 miles from home.

Apparently some County cop is annoyed because she has to work Christmas day.

County Cop: (hereafter referred to as CC) "Could I see your license and registration please?"

Me: "Sure....as soon as I am done texting some people in Ecuador."

CC: "NOW!!!!"

Me: "OK! You don't have to be rude."

Me: "Is there a problem officer?"

CC: "Yes, you have been driving on the sidewalk for the last 2 miles."

Me: "Impossible!! My wife would have told me."

CC: "Wife? What wife? I only see this very tired and bruised dog with its leash hooked to your side mirror."

Me:"I don't own a dog. You have the wrong guy. "(LOL!!!)

CC: "Yeah. You hooked onto the dog when you ran over the ladies toes."

Me: "What lady?"

CC: "The one that was standing by the mailbox with her dog on the leash, fool!"

Me: "Where's my wife? She's not feeling good. She ate some bad food."

CC: "She's probably not feeling much better right now. She fell out of the car when you ran over the mailbox.

Me: "Oh...no! She had my doggie bag on her lap."

CC: "She's fine. She landed on the lady at the mailbox."

Me: "OK...can I go now?"

CC: "Not so fast, speedie. Have you been drinking?"

Me: "Nope!!!"

CC: "Well, I guess you haven't broken any laws in South Carolina. Try not to drive on the sidewalk any more. I see you are a Republican. You have a "Goldwater" bumper sticker. That's good enough for me. Return the dog to the lady with the flat toes, pick up your wife and drive safely and have a Merry Christmas."

Me: (texting) Hey Juan, CC thought I was Republican. LMAO...WTF. CU N July.

My wife is recovering nicely. It was allergies for sure. She has red welts all over her body and tomorrow she will be able to talk normally and see again. My wife also smashed my iphone with a sledge hammer. She said it was an accident. I am not too sure. We didn't own a sledge hammer until this morning.

Olditude (and how to deal with it)

2011-12-22T09:19:00.001-08:00

I am sure you have heard of the movie where the young boy says, "I see dead people."
Not me! I see old people. They are everywhere. You can't avoid them.

A lot of these people think they are dead people, or act like dead people, but they are somewhat alive. I think the Republicans are trying to phase them out in the same manner as they are trying to eliminate the middle class.

I see dead people...or ice.

I get a little nervous about this because the Republicans in congress are talking about a "Swift proposal". I didn't get alarmed until I realized that they had capitalized "Swift".
Huh, like the name Swift as opposed to doing something quickly. This must be Congressman Al Swift from Washington state. I called Al on the phone... no answer. Turns out he retired in 1995. So I googled Swift proposal. What came up alarmed me. It referred to Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal."
This can't be good.
The word on the street is: Pfizer has come up with a tasty formula for Soylent Gray and your younger senators and congressmen are buying pfizer stock like it was going out of style.

Martha Stewart, you can't buy this stock. This is inside information. Your rep in congress can buy this stock. OK?....No? Too bad for you! You don't want to go back to jail and make more burlap dresses, do you?

Moving on to other new "old business".
Recently a fellow blogger was talking about an "old" friend's problems. The moral of the story was; "Don't get old." Actually I prefer "old" to the alternative of not getting old.
Yes, it is fraught with obstacles and hoops that you have to jump through when you are least able to deal with it. Such things as health insurance, driving after dark, getting my senior citizen discount at KFC or Dunkin Donuts, keeping track of my medications, convincing people my mind is as sharp as it ever was, getting my senior citizen discount at KFC or Dunkin Donuts.....ummmm...~~getting my~~.... and other things.

New "New business": This comes under the heading of helpful hints for a happy senior citizen. (AKA: Old coot, curmudgeon, geezer, ye olde farte, walking fossil) and that is just the guys!!!
Here we go.
Hint: Never take a laxative and a sleeping pill the same night.
Be prepared for nasty comments from people you least expect it from.

example: My wife told me to iron the shirt that I was wearing. It was too wrinkly.
The thing is; I was not wearing a shirt.

Open for debate: Wouldn't obituaries be a lot more interesting if it told you how the person died?
Guy stuff? shirts get dirty, underwear get dirty, socks get dirty. Pants (trousers) never get dirty and you can wear them forever.
End the debate: Is the glass half full or half empty? George Carlin said the glass was too big, no more philosophical debates. subject closed.
Yeah, Really?....I am tired of watching the Miss Universe contest. Every year Miss Earth wins, Alpha Centauri wasn't even mentioned, no Romulan women, no Vulcan women, Venus, the planet of Love....not mentioned. I think the fix is in again this year.

Ahead of their time: Books that were not allowed in my school in 1960.

"The boy who died from eating all his vegetables"
"Dad's new wife, Robert."
"That's it, I'm putting you up for adoption."
"Strangers have the best candy."
"Lolita"

Yet another philosophical question: I just read about a funeral home that burned down.
Sadly, there was someone's dear one waiting to be cremated when it burned down and he was accidentally cremated. My question is: How much should they charge the family of the deceased for their services?

Hysteria!!! Did you cry when Kim Jung il died? I must say I did get caught up in the television coverage? (OMG....WTF???...sniff..sniff..sob..sob!)
My wife and I wept and wailed shamelessly. Our neighbors came over to find out what was wrong. They left in tears. We are not sure whether they were laughing or crying.

A review of Republican candidates:

Rick Perry: OMG!!!!...He makes George Dubbaya seem like a Rocket Surgeon. It must be the drinking water in Texas.
Mutt Romney? He lost me when he told a gay soldier that the writers of the constitution were against gay marriage. Really? I just perused the constitution. I must be missing a page; it must have to be with the section that solves the slavery problem, and the women's rights problem.
Could someone mail me that page? I seem to have lost that one.
Herman Cain: A black president? Never happened. Where was he born?
Michelle Bachmann: She is much cuter than the other candidates. Other than that, a big "L", as in Loser.
All others: Pathetic....
Mitt?....oh!

But seriously..... There actually is A VERY GOOD BLOG FOR SENIORS. It is "Suddenly Senior" by Frank Kaiser. Even people who are not senior citizens should take a look. Hopefully some day you will be a senior citizen. This blog covers a lot of territory. Some very serious topics, some not so serious.
Frank says he is old as dirt. In fact, he knew dirt when it was still a rock.

OK...I feel better now. I am so over Kim Jung il. No more weeping shamelessly although I must admit I am a little misty eyed...but life goes on.

A Christmas story? Or not!!!

2011-11-30T14:12:00.001-08:00

"Like an overripe beefsteak tomato rimmed with cottage cheese, the corpulent remains of Santa Claus lay dead on the living room floor. The family's little rat terrier walked up to the prone body and defecated on its unbreathing chest, as restless reindeer shifted their hoofs noisily on the roof of the house."

Hmmm! I am having a bit of trouble writing my Christmas story this year. It doesn't seem to be going in the right direction. Once again I have killed the main character in the first paragraph. I seem to do that a lot. I guess there are too many things on my mind. Perhaps I will win the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest this year for the best "It was a dark and stormy night" prose .

Many questions that I saw on a website called"That's my answer." have been nagging at me.

One question was: If you were a superhero and you had super powers, what would they be?

I know the answer now. I would be Super Senior Citizen Man.

I even know what super powers I would have.

The ability to hear complete conversations without saying "huh?..what?"
The ability to see things without my glasses.
The ability to smell and taste food, flowers, coffee.
The ability to walk without my hip hurting.
The ability to sleep on my right side, pain free.
The ability to sleep the whole night without getting up and going to the bathroom.
The ability to remember where I put my glasses so I could find the bathroom.
The ability to remember if I took my BP medicines.
The ability to get out of bed and stand up straight.
The ability to watch a television program without falling asleep.
The ability to have voluntary BM's.

My wife (thw little French Lady) sees some of my inabilities as a good thing. A case in point would be my skill at cleaning up Wilson's litter box every morning. She will not come down the stairs until this is done. She has tried several times to show up before it is done and she starts gagging and she runs upstairs screaming, "It burns my eyes! It burns my eyes!!!"

Now that I think about it, even Wilson tries to avoid his own essence after he uses the litter box. He will sprint up the stairs like a bullet.

No fifteen year old cat should be able to move that fast without a strong motivation.

It smells pretty bad...I am told.

This is a start for Super Senior Citizen Man. A cape and wearing my underwear on the outside will be a nice touch also.

I would need a faithful companion, a sidekick, of course. Every super hero has one.

I would actually have two. I would have "General Practitioner Man", who would assure my ongoing success as "Super Senior Citizen Man" by dispensing prescriptions, and "Pharmacy Girl", who would assist GP Man with my medications such as Prozac, medical cannabis in pill or brownie form (for glaucoma, of course).

What!!!??? I don't live in California? Or Vermont?...never mind.

I would need some sleeping aids, for sure. I go to bed and my mind races like a three year old after drinking two cups of coffee and a Jolt cola.

These questions on "That's my answer" drive me crazy.

The other day someone asked, "If you could, in what city would you like to be a taxi driver."

I picked Vatican City. Short trips.

I think about these things while trying to sleep. Last night I was thinking about taxes.

I understand the concept. I am confused about how are taxes are spent.

The government will spend huge quanities of money to send PFC John Doe to Iraq and Afghanistan with top of the line equipment. When he gets home, they dump him on the street shell shocked, missing a leg, homeless and basically say "We are done with you now don't bother us". Sad, but true...

The night before I agonized over how to fold fitted sheets. I also wondered why the first testicular guard, "the cup" was used in hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. Does this come down to manly priorities? This is proof that man is evolving.

I live at the beach. Boccie players have small balls. I think they should use bowling balls instead. Their little balls take up too much room on the beach. I don't want to get whacked in the head by someone's stray balls flying through the air.

Last Wednesday night worry: Pockets on a thong. Good idea or bad idea? Discuss amongst yourselves...

Tuesday night, "euphemisms" kept me awake. I was trying to find a nice way of saying "vomiting". The choice that comes to mind: Unplanned reexamination of recent food choices.

Well, I guess it is time to get back to my Christmas story. All Righty then!!!

"The shrieking of happy little children is heard in the background as they descend the stairs before entering the living room to open their presents."

Uh oh....! I don't think this is going to end well.
Perhaps I should email my pal, Stuart Woods again. Yeah, He's my pal...I tell you!!!! He got me out of my last writing blunder.

Anderson Cooper and other hairy issues

2011-11-22T14:34:00.001-08:00

Goodbye Doctor Phil.

No more hair raising stories.

No more road trips, I have a daily program.

The little French Lady and I have watched Doctor Phil for eight years. One day, while we were watching Phil, he looked into the camera and said, "How's that working for you?" My wife and I looked at each other and said, "It's not, Dr. Phil."

We had heard his home spun pithy maxims at least a few hundred times. I think I could do his program if he decides to go on vacation or retire. The only thing required of me for hosting his show will be to say three things.

How's that workin fer ya?
This ain't my first rodeo.
No matter how thick the pancake, it still has two sides

Obviously he has not seen my mother's pancakes. They were so thick that they qualified as having three sides.

But once again I digress.

We grow weary of you, Doctor Phil.

We are moving on but we have a problem. My wife and I tend to take on the persona of the favorite television people that we admire. Someone who has the same core values as we do.

I must model myself after someone new. I have eliminated numerous candidates. It is down to Andy Rooney, Larry King, or Anderson Cooper.

~~Andy Rooney~~ (deceased)
~~Larry King~~ (I do not own suspenders or a bowtie)
Anderson Cooper (We both have similar hairstyle and color)

That was easy.

Now the little French Lady must decide who she is going to model herself after.

It is down to Judge Marilyn Milian of "People's Court" , Judge Judy of "Judge Judy", or Sarah Palin of "I can see Russia from my front porch", and I believe she was involved in politics at one time. We both like Rachel Maddow. I think she is a hottie. My wife just smirks and says, "okey...dokey. Good luck with that."
What....?????....!!!!!

We both like to watch Judge Judy. Judy gets a little cranky occasionally. We both have taken on her persona lately.
The other morning when I was in my pre-coffee stupor and barely aware that I was actually awake, my sweetie said something to me which apparently bounced off the outer edge of my cranial cavity. She was not pleased.
She found a pencil or a hammer or some pointy instrument and whacked it off the table surface.
I lifted my befogged head and she took her two fingers closest to her thumb, pointed them at her eyes and shook them.
"Here!!...look here. Not at the ceiling or the floor. Here!!!"
I just looked up and said, " It was a gift, your honor."
She really does have her Judy moments.

In the morning I am more like Rick (OMG!!!!) Perry. I would really like to be more like my buddy, Anderson.
It is too bad about Anderson. He just had his first cup of coffee last week on his television show. He had a hyper coffee buzz. He likes it but I don't think he needs it.

I suppose the second choice of personas I might choose to be is Mike Holmes of "Holmes on Homes." and "Holmes Inspection". He is a Canadian guy who fixes other contractors' goofs. His program is very popular on HGTV.
~~This guy looks a lot like me. He is built like me.~~ His hair is the same color as mine. (My wife made me strike the other two sentences.)
She took a pencil, whacked on my keyboard, pointed two finger at her eyes and said, "Look here......seek.... professional.... help!!!!"
Hah! I know a lot more about contracting and fixing houses than she thinks.

"That's ridicoolus!!!"

One day I was lining up nails. Some of the nail heads were facing left and some were facing right. I told her the ones facing left were inside nails, the ones facing right were outside nails. I told her I needed more left nails so I sent her to the hardware store.
She was very annoyed when she got back. She kept saying, "That's ridicoolus!!!". Just like Judge Judy.

Just when I think I have lost her to Judge Judy, she will come up with some Cuban homily of Judge Marilyn Milian.
So it's been decided.
I am going to model my life after Mike Holmes and my sweetie is still trying to decide between Ellen De Generes, Michelle Obama or Nancy Grace.
Huh...?...what?

Senior moments (Relativity explained here!)

2011-10-29T09:15:00.001-07:00

Bullets for a better world.

Yesterday my wife, the little French lady, explained relativity to me and she didn't need Einstein around to explain it. She used the three hair theorem.

If I had 3 hairs on my head that wouldn't be very much hair. If I had those same three hairs floating in my soup, that's a lot of hair. It's relative. See...no Einstein required.
Ahhh....Relativity. When I was growing up the superheros wore their underwear on the outside and had big capes. In the fifties they were called Superman, Batman, Captain Marvel. Now they are called Interior Decorators or Rap singers.
In the 50's these Superheros had young companions or proteges who lived with them. In the 50's that was OK. Now the men would be called Monsignor.
When Superman was a child and his "mother" made his "uniform", what kind of thread and scissors did she use to cut and sew the cloth? I worry about this stuff.
I am trying to learn Spanish. Those people have a different word for everything. When I visited Montreal, I thought if I talked louder they would understand me. I asked my wife what was wrong with these people? Why aren't they speaking English? Didn't you tell them about my impending visit? She said she forgot.

When I was growing up in the fifties, my dad worked, my mom stayed home. We owned our house, my father bought a brand new 1955 Chevy, our health plan was taken care of by my dad's employer. Everybody in our town was a Republican. We wondered why anyone would be a Democrat. We knew nothing of poor people, civil rights, poor schools. We knew nothing of that other world.
Times change. We elected a black Democrat president. My dear republicans are furious. How could this happen? I wonder? Could it be that their leadership is less than inspiring? Are George Bush, Dick Cheney, and Sarah Palin the cream of the crop? Yikes. Could it be that a majority of americans are concerned about things such as health care? I really don't care if he was born in Kenya or Hawaii.
Rick Perry: OMG!!!!!!
Former Presidents: George Washington? Father of our country? That is the only thing he fathered. He had no children of his own. James Madison? Ditto!!
President James Garfield was assassinated by...his doctors. Yeah, yeah...I know. Someone shot him. If the doctor had left him alone he would have recovered. He had seen 16 different doctors. Sadly they poked around inside him trying to find the bullet. While doing so, they lacerated his liver, he got an infection and died 89 days after he was shot. An autopsy showed the bullet encapsulated. Oops!!
Wakes! What a wonderful tradition. Wakes were started because people in the olden days had a nasty habit of burying people who were still alive. Someone suggested they hold off for a few days before we bury this unmoving person. The person may "wake" up. I know I would be real cranky if I woke up from a big hangover, inside a pine box wearing a tie, white shirt and a suit coat, and jockey shorts. "Hey, get me outa here. My mouth feels like I ate cotton candy. Where's my pants and socks? What are these pennies doing on my eyes?" I am sure this could have happened to a few of my Irish ancestors.
People are protesting the Wall Street shenanigans? What took so long? The liberal's answer to the Tea party? Isn't this almost Anti-American and unpatriotic, Rush?

I just had to get this stuff off my chest, along with those three hairs I just shaved off.

Gotta go to lunch now.

What's that floating in my soup? Relativity?

The Coffee clatch gang.

2011-10-13T12:32:00.001-07:00

Making new friends?

Yesterday I realized that I miss the companionship and fellowship of my male friends, so my wife ordered me out of the house until I found some cronies to hang out with.
She is the one who used the word "cronies", I did not!

Her thinking was;young guys have friends, old guys have cronies.
I qualify as old. You may qualify as old if the hair in your nose and ears grows faster than on your head. In fact, I nearly lopped off my ear last week trying to trim my ear hair, but that is another blog. Let's not get off topic here.

So, here I was, quicked out of my own home by the Little French Lady... searching for a spot to meet my crony friends. I thought I might give the Starbuck's down the street a try. I had packed my Man gear. My GPS, my binoculars, my Ipad, my Mental Floss magazine, I put on my Mental Floss T-shirt (The one that says, "I would give my right arm to be ambidextrous"), my wrap-around sunglasses and my sparkling wit.
I was off.

Upon arrival to Starbuck's I ordered my latte and my danish. I gave the woman with the spanish name my $20 bill and she asked if I wanted change back. I said, " of course!!!"
She returned a quarter, a dime and two pennies.
Huh!...oh well, I shall commence to making friends now.

I sat a table with a nice looking young lady. She had her MacBook out and was typing like a person possessed. She paused. I said, "MacBook?..I have a MacBook."
She looked up and glared at me. I figured I better straighten her out so there was no misunderstanding.
"Oh.....I'm not flirting with you. I'm here to meet men." Something didn't sound right about that statement.
She glared. I looked around. Everybody was in their own little world. One guy was reading the Sunday New York Times. (It was Thursday). One woman was doing a spanish lesson on her computer. "Como esta Usted?" I kept hearing her say that. Finally I hollered out, "Muy Bien, Gracias!!"
More dirty looks. It was like I pooped on the table. People started complaining to the spanish waitress. I guess her name was senorita Barista, she didn't look spanish.

Finally, out of desperation, I took out my Ipad. I emailed my wife, "Can I come home now? Everybody hates me at Starbucks." She emailed me back and told me to try a different location. I got up to leave. I said, "Adios, everyone."
I received a standing ovation.

I walked for about 15 minutes in the opposite direction. I noticed this place called "Jimmie's Hole in the Wall." written on a theater marquee above the establishment.
The parking lot was full of pickup trucks with rifle racks in the rear windows, or confederate flags on the antennae.
I walked to the clerk and ordered a cup of coffee. "That will be 30 cents."
Wow, I like this place already. I noticed a bunch of guys standing around a round table talking. I walked over and found an open spot at the "round table". They were actually talking to each other. They all said, "How yawl doin?" I looked around. There was no one behind. They were talking to me!!!! I loved this place.

The floors were kind of quirky. They were at an angle, very much like an old movie theater.
"Where yawl from?" a guy named Joe Willie asked. I said I lived a few streets away off ocean Blvd.
"You lie!!!!!!" Joe Willie hollered. That brought huge laughter to the rest of the group. Shoulders were convulsing, many were snickering mixed in with a few tee-hees and guffaws.
One guy, named Marko, raised his hand and everyone stopped laughing immediately. "What Joe Willie is saying is that you don't sound like a native of South Carolina."
"Oh,...I am originally from Vermont."
"Vermont?...Isn't that where that Jewish Communist Congressman lives?..Burley Sanger!"
"Do you mean Bernie Sanders, Joe?"
"Yeah, That's the guy. The Communist Jew guy."
"Bernie's a socialist, Joe." I answered.
"Yeah, well...He is still a jew. How do you expect me to trust him. This guy has high regard for Moses. Yeah...Moses.....The guy who wandered around the desert for 40 years. He wouldn't man up and ask directions after God parted the Red Sea. Would I follow this guy? No way!!! and to compound matters he had a bunch of people behind him and nobody tapped Moses on the shoulder and say after about 13 years, 'Moses, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. What's your plan?" "

Hmmm...this guy, Joe Willie has some valid points; he has obviously thought about Bernie and Moses quite a bit.

Marko, (the guy who had everyone stop talking when he raised his hand) was held in high regard by the people at the round table. He talked fondly about his travels on the Appalachian Trail and his frequent trips to Argentina to visit his soulmate and fiance.
He seemed quite puzzled by the Catholic religion. He understood the concept of heaven and hell.
Heaven good, hell bad.
Marko was thinking about switching to Catholism for his fiance.
He was mystified by the other places located in between...
Heaven, Hell, Limbo, Purgatory and Bridgeport, Connecticut.
I have been to Bridgeport. If I die and end up there....hmmmmm. It ain't heaven.
Marko, Bubba, Joe Willie, and Billy Jeff seem like a bunch of nice guys. I enjoyed listening to them. They are a funny bunch. The coffee taste great, the price is right.
I will email my wife and tell her I have met some new friends and I am on my way home.

"See Yawl tomorrow."

Misinformation Hotline

2011-09-29T10:16:00.001-07:00

One of our many experts. (only two actually)

Misinformation Hotline
from the Hemlock Institute

This is a service I will be providing to the American public starting October 1st (Mayday). I will be answering questions based on my personal database and prejudice. The answers have no basis in fact and if I have answered it factually it is totally accidental.

*************************************

My first question is from J.R. in Wisconsin.

She inquires:Was Obama really born in Kenya?

Answer:......HELLLOOOOOO! Did you just crawl out of a cave. Yes, It is a well established fact that he was born in Kenya. (SOURCE: Rush Limbaugh, Glen Beck)

Ms B.S. from California want to know: Do we really have the best healthcare system in the world?

Answer:HAARRUUMPPPPFFFF!!!! Apparently there is quite an elaborate cave system in California also. Yes, B. S., We have the best health system in the world.
When I say "we", I am, of course, referring to the U.S. Congress. My source would be John Boehner. The rest of the country? The best healthcare system? Not so much.

My next question is from Rick P. in Texas. He says that Mexicans are coming across the border and stealing his jobs. He wants to know what he can do about this travesty.

Answer: Well, Rick, It looks like you should find a different profession other than gardener, fruit harvester, or lawn maintenance because that is the jobs they are taking. I suggest perhaps something in the customer service field. perhaps you could be a greeter at Walmart. Let me give you a little test. Finish this statement.
"Do you want (a) flies (b) fries (3) to cry (d)all of these.....with your Whopper?"
There is no correct answer, Rick. so feel free to answer honestly. (I'm lying..there is a correct answer.)

The next question is from H.H. in Connecticut.
She ask (or aks) "My job has been outsourced to India, I think. I went to my office this morning. It was empty. There was a phone # on the door telling me where I could pick up my severance pay. I called and a girl named Brittany answered. She had an Indian accent. I aksed where I could pick up my check and she said, "Bangalore...umm..Street"
There is no Bangalore Street in my town. I checked on Google maps. What should I do?"

Answer: Yes, you have been outsourced. It is a new tradition in our country to put profit ahead of people. I will give you some satisfaction to know that Brittany's job will be outsourced to China at the end of the year. Indians are starting to demand a living wage. What should you do? Collect unemployment and welfare while the infrastructure of the U.S. of A. crumbles and Congress says, "Hmmm...What should we do?
"Ummm...let's see. There are many well educated people out of work, unable to pay their mortgage and the bridges, Highways and cities are crumbling. I just don't see a solution. This is really a conundrum. Hey, since we are mostly lawyers maybe we should sue somebody. I wonder what Rush Limbaugh would do?"

My next question is from a J. G. in NYC. She ask the question, " We have the "No child left behind" concept at her son's school. He cannot count to ten or write his name and he will be graduating in June. What should I do?"

Answer: Not to worry, Miss G. If your son can dribble a basketball he will be eligible for a scholarship. He does not wish to go to college, he can probably get himself into the welfare system and be eligible for free education, housing, food, health care for himself and his 13 year old girl friend who is pregnant and will want a boob job after the birth of her third child in December.
Note: The likelihood of him getting a job in this economy is nil anyway, so go with the flow.

My next question is from a Mr. O.J.S. who is currently incarcerated in a penitentiary somewhere in Nevada. He would like to know how he could get in touch with Casey Anthony. He would like to know if she is dating anyone.
He states,"We seem to have a lot in common. I am looking for someone who will help me find my wife's killer. You seem to have a similar experience with the U.S. justice system."
Answer: At this time Casey is looking for someone to father her next ~~victim~~..child. To become eligible send $1000 and a biography, pictures, DNA sample and a short video of you dancing to: Jose Baez, Orlando, Florida. He will contact her after reviewing your application.

HEADLINE from the National Inquisitor: (THIS JUST IN!!!!)
From Kim in Wisconsin
Dancing with the Stars, the Felony Edition will premier next season. So far they have lined up Casey Anthony to dance with John Walsh of America's Most Wanted
and they all ready pulled a coup when they got O. J. Simpson out on a work release program so he could dance with Lindsay Lohan. Also Phil Spector will be out to dance with either Heidi Fleis or Tanya Harding. Tanya, when asked about fellow competitor, Casey Anthony, She was heard to say, "I'd like to kneecap that bitch."
Nancy Grace will be dancing with Joran Van Der Sloot who will also be on a work release program in Peru. They will do a very passionate Tango together. I hear he can do a killer Tango.

And one final question for today and it comes from Mr. C.S. of Hollywood, California. He queries, " Is tiger's milk really good for you?"

Answer: "Yes, it is ~~Charlie~~.....errrr..Mr.C.S., It is very good for you. The deal is, if you are the one milking the tiger, you probably don't need it."

Well, if anyone needs any questions answered by the Hemlock Institute, feel free to submit a question. I will answer it.

A good idea!! If you are tall!!!

My Wild Irish Rose and other companions

2011-09-19T15:55:00.001-07:00

Wine Tasting Misadventures

What's the word?...Thunderbird?

She was my mistress and companion on my nightly excursions in the world of youthful sleaze.
I tried to sleep with her on numerous occasions. Sometimes I was successful, but usually she would get my head spinning and my stomach all queasy. She had that intoxicating demeanor.

Yeah, she was cheap, but she was sweet. Cheap wine usually is. Wild Irish Rose is the cheapest. I have some bittersweet memories of WIR and bittersweet would pretty much describe the taste. What can one expect for 60 cents a bottle? This wine makes Ripple taste like a winner at a wine tasting contest. In fact, during my adolescence my friends and I became connoisseurs of cheap wine.

In New York in late 50's and 60's the drinking age was 18. We were not intimidated by that lofty distant number. We were not going to wait two or three years before our lips would taste the nectar of the gods. We were ready.

My friends Jim and Andy had very little money. This did not dampen our eagerness for an adventure in wine tasting. We would simply bum money until we had enough to buy a bottle or two of Wild Irish Rose.
We would sneak into the woods nearby, break open the bottle, take a healthy sip, slosh it around in our mouths and spit it out, look at each other and comment on the bouquet as a knowledgeable wine taster would do.
"Gasoline" Jim would shout. "low test, I might add".
"Kerosene", was my rejoinder. "1957...a good year for kerosene."
"Rancid grape soda with a hint of putrefied toe cheese", was Andy's comment.
"Ah...You have the benefit of both wine and cheese in one bottle. A bit of luck for you, sir", Jim added.

After a few attempts we got to the point where we could swallow the wine without gagging. We stopped spitting it out.

We moved on to a higher class wine rather quickly. We moved on to Thunderbird. This is also what is referred to as a bumwine, we thought it was a step up and the bottle was bigger. Also, it was a California wine. We were done with New York wineries.

We got very good at bumming and sharing. One evening we bummed enough money for about a gallon of Thunderbird. We just had to give our financial benefactors a sip.

We were a bit over served that night. After a while we were in no condition to drive. Thank God none of us had a car. We were in no condition to walk either. We took turns carrying each other. We had to walk two miles to get home. We made it to Jim's house, since his home was the closest. By this time, Andy was in a total stupor and he was thrashing around making our life difficult.
We brought Andy to the garage, tied him up so he wouldn't thrash around, hooked his coat, with him in it, onto a hook on the wall.
Jim then said, " Come on into the house and meet my uncle. He's a priest."
"Ah...No..Thanks...Jim. I will be on my way. Have a nice Thanksgiving."
I also had to get up and watch the vaunted Detroit Lions give the lowly Green Bay Packers a pummeling.
"Oh, come! My parents won't even notice that we had a little bit of wine. My uncle drinks wine all the time. He won't notice either."
"Okay!"
It is a good thing I was not born a female. I gave in way too easily. I guess I was a male wine slut at the time.

Jim and I staggered to the house and stumbled up the stairs and into the kitchen. Jim's dad was there to greet us. He took one look at us and asked sternly, " Have you boys been drinking?" We both said, "No" in unison.
"Don't lie to me. You boys have been drinking."
Finally, we confessed. "We had a glass of wine at Andy's house."
"A glass?" Jim's dad queried loudly. "It was a big glass." I added. We confessed that we had a little more than a glass of wine. We didn't really fool anyone. We could barely stand or talk properly. We told Jim's dad that we had hung Andy in the garage.

"What?...You hung Andy?....Why?....He was a good kid."
"Yeah, but we got sick of carrying him." I answered.
"He didn't even get last rites. How could you? I will have Father Riley (the uncle) administer last rites."
Jim and I looked at each other. We were puzzled. What is he talking about?
"Oh....No...Not like that." Jim offered. "We did it with nails and a garden hose."

At this point, Jim's dad is in shock. He is about ready to have a stroke. "You crucified Andy? You boys are very mentally sick. You have ruined your lives."
His eyes were very moist. He kept repeating, "sick...sick...sick."

Finally, we really had to tell the whole truth. This was getting out of hand.
We told Frank (Jim's dad) that Andy was out in the garage being held up by a garden hose and a nail to keep him from falling over onto the cement in the garage. He was too drunk to walk and we left him out in the garage because he would have given us away. We actually thought nobody would notice that Jim and I could barely stand up straight or talk without a heavy slur.

Finally, Frank explained the situation to Father Riley, who had been in the other room listening to the whole escapade. I met Father Riley, shook his hand. He gave Jim and I a little lecture about lying and we were remanded to our own custody to take care of Andy, who was still hanging in the garage.

We had to walk Andy to his home, which was another half mile down the road. We didn't really walk him, we carried him. He was in a stupor.

We carried him to his front door. We hoped that it was unlocked. It was. Nobody was up. Everybody had gone to bed. Thank God...we would not have to explain this to more people. We used stealth to set him just inside the door, on the floor and quietly exited his residence. Then we ran for about a hundred yards.

"Whew, poor guy. He's toast. I suppose we will be hearing from his mom and dad tomorrow."

Strangely, Andy was the only one who did not get caught. When I got home my parents were waiting for me. I gave them the "sip of wine at Andy's house" story. I think they knew it was a lie, since I still was having trouble navigating.
Jim, Andy and I discussed it on Saturday.We considered this a legendary adventure of our teen years.
We decided we would meet at Scotty's, our hang out, in exactly 20 years. The night before Thanksgiving. Wednesday.

EPILOGUE:

The meeting never happened: Reality got in the way.
Approximately four months after this event, Andy became a diabetic. He didn't take good care of his disease. As time went on, Andy lost his vision, his toes, his kidneys and at the age of 39....his life. He was my best friend.

Jim became a lawyer. A good one. Ironically, Jim's daughter was born the day Andy died. He could not be a pallbearer because of this. I haven't seen Jim in twenty years.
However he did sign one of my legal documents. Thanks, Jim!!!

The place where we were supposed to meet is now a pile of rubble. The only thing left of it are the memories.

The town I was raised in has not fared much better. Ten years after our adventure, the main industry in our town shut down permanently. The town is in a state of decline.
It was a great place to grow up. It is heartbreaking to go back and see what has happened to it.

Life...for some of us...goes on.

The Wizardry of Oz

2011-09-08T10:40:00.001-07:00

I'm off to see the wizard.

Recently the little French Lady and I have become more health conscious. In keeping with this theme I adjusted my 401K to reflect my expected living age to 110 years old. Now I must do something in the health department to facilitate my expectations.

My wife adjusted her 401K to the age of 101 so we could die at approximately the same day.

We both decided that Doctor Oz seems to have a lot of ideas on how to stay healthy. We started saving his TV show on our DVR. This seemed like a really great plan. I read a couple of his "YOU" books and they seemed quite confusing so I assumed he knew what he was talking about.

He is often quoted in Reader's Digest, The New York Times, Mad Magazine and the Daily Worker, so we had a sense that he had some credibility.

After two months of Doctor Oz, I must confess that I feel the same as I did before I started watching his program and taking his advice.

I do have a very healthy refrigerator heavily stocked with Shiritake noodles, baked kelp, cauliflower smoothies, a 5 gallon of some very virginal olive oil, 14 avocados, 50 pounds of walnuts, and a Swanson Fried Chicken TV dinner.

We haven't eaten at home in 5 weeks. I cannot even look into the refrigerator without gagging.

On top of our dining room table is our food supplements. We have so many supplements on our table that we have to eat standing up. We have our pills organized by morning, noon and night.

We spend our first hour taking the morning pills. We spend the next half hour trying to keep them down. Those fish oil burps are wicked. I am sure glad we got the burp-less ones. Same routine at noon and night.

This morning I had an eppiffery which is very much like an epiphany only much less insightful.

This Oz thing is a little weird.

Monday he says 6 cups of coffee in the morning is good for you. So Monday I drank six cups of coffee and walked around in a highly excited stupor which is a bit of an oxymoron but that is how I felt.

Tuesday he says coffee is really not that good for you. So I threw all of our coffee away and again we both walked in a state of high agitation and low stupor, bumping into each other, and at the same time going through coffee withdrawal. A tough day.

Wednesday he says coffee in moderation is good for you. I don't have any coffee left in the house, and I am still going through coffee withdrawal. I swore at my neighbors, threw rocks at their dogs, put poop on their doorstep.(mine ...not the dogs!!) I am having another tough day.

Thursday (Today)...

I am watching Doctor Oz show this morning. Constipated and cranky. He has someone's gizzard on a table. He is putting on some blue gloves on, he is squeezing the gizzard. Something is oozing. Yuk!! I am glad I did not turn up the sound.

I just took my supplements for the day. I followed his recommendations. It takes me about 20 minutes to take my pills.

My Omega 3, Calcium, Quercetin, Cinnamon, garlic, Xalatan, Timalol, Lumigan, Simvastatin, hydrochlorothyazide, my memory medicine (I forgot what it's called) Tricor, Damnitol (an anti anger medication), Methimozale (Chantal just told me it is for Wilson's ears. TOO LATE! ).

I just took a blue pill, I am not sure if it is Aleve or Viagra, I will find out soon.

Lint-begone (to prevent the accumulation of lint in my navel), Scrotumizer ( to keep that buffy shine on my scrotum: recommended by Doctor Oz!!...??) and Preparation H, some round pill to make me start pooping, a square pill to make me stop pooping. It had a letter E on it. That may have been a scrabble tile.

I am confused.

I think I am going to give up something.

I think it will be Doctor Oz.

My Personal Rogue's Gallery.

2011-08-04T15:14:00.001-07:00

Friends, Family and other malcontents.

We all have them, don't we?
Oh, you know who I am talking about. It might be Uncle Percy, who collects ear wax and makes religious statues out of it. It could be the neighbor who borrowed your riding mower and sold it on ebay. Maybe it is Uncle Wally who has a pet duck that he walks on a leash every day.
They are colorful characters in your personal history. Some of them are fun, a few weirdos, an equal number of crooks and psychos.

I will start with Uncle Leonard, the low talker.
Uncle Lenny is a small guy. I am a talking "small". He makes Barney Fife look tall and beefy. That may be his problem. He overcompensates. He can drink like a man that is 7 feet tall. Lenny is 5' 1". He drives a huge truck.
When he drinks he acts like he is 7 feet tall. He gets belligerent. He picks fights with big people. Fortunately everyone knows about Lenny, and they act accordingly. Usually they just put their hand on Lenny's head and he swings wildly until he tires.
If the big guy grows weary of Lenny's swinging, he puts his thumb and index finger together and flick him in the chest, very much in the same style that someone would flick an errant booger from their fingers ... and Uncle Leonard would go flying.

Uncle Lenny had a way of exacting his revenge. He was a low talker. He was also an accomplished mumbler. You had to lean very close to him, bend down and say "What"? He could say things to people and they would look at each other and ask, "Did he just insult me?"....Nah!!! This was when he was sober. When had a few extra samplings from the brown bottles he talked incomprehensible gibberish.

I heard rumors that he was a faux Navaho code talker during the cold war while he was in the army. His commanding officers would give him a six pack and then they would write up bogus messages for Lenny to transmit verbally.
Apparently there are sixteen nations still trying to decipher the code, including ours.
My Uncle Lenny.

Then there was my former friend, Quisling Von Heussen. Even back in the late 50's he was strange. He was Swiss. He had relatives in Zurich. He was always saying nice things about Hitler. He would say things like Hitler was better looking than Churchill.
He said Hitler could run faster than Roosevelt and Eva Braun was better looking than Eleanor Roosevelt. He also stated that Hitler could dance better than Joe Stalin. It really aggravated me because I could not disprove his argument.
I did point out that Hitler did make some major social blunders. Quis didn't really want to talk about that. He preferred to say how well Hitler trimmed his mustache an how shiny his boots were.
I grew tired of Quis. That last time I saw him he was handing out brochures for the Tea party. He had shiny boots and a little Charlie Chaplin mustache.

Then there is my friend Miguel Heraldo. He liked cars. I was a very good friend. He came to me and ask to borrow $1500 so he could get a car. I had been burned by him before, but it was a small amount. I said I couldn't do it. His wife said, "I'll make sure he pays it back if you co-sign for him". I finally caved in and I cosigned. He made two payments. The bank started calling ME! I went to his house and asked him about the payment. He said he had paid it late, and not to worry about it. I should have been suspicious when I saw the U-haul truck in the driveway and the boxes in the living room.
He moved to Georgia the next day. I was left to pay his bill. I learned a lesson.

A few years passed and he found my email address somehow and he wanted to be my buddy. I never answered his email. He went to a mutual friend and asked, "What's the matter with Jonathan Hemlock? I email him and he never answers".
The mutual friend and I had a conversation and I said I would answer Miguel. I did. I questioned his honesty and integrity. He answered that nothing like that ever happened. I was lying, where is my proof? He remembers nothing of that. He verbally attacked me to my friends. He said I was a liar. I wasn't really surprised. 5 years go by.....I moved on.
Now, He wants to be my Facebook friend. Yikes!!!
What a World. This is the Casey Anthony Era.

Then we have my Cousin Lonnie Hemlock, the collector.
Lonnie is a bright guy. He is good at fixing things.
A few years ago you could drive your own garbage to the landfill and drop it off.
Lonnie's problem with the landfill was that he would bring home more than he would drop off. He was actually making more space in the landfill for people like me. While most people, referred to it as "the dump", Lonnie called it "the Mall".

I went to his house one day to do some type of family business. I climbed over various car parts, bike parts, old air conditioners, carcasses of various vermin and other sundry products and made my way to the front door from the porch. I knocked on the door. The door tilted at an angle and fell into the kitchen.
Cousin Lonnie was in the kitchen. I think it was the kitchen. Hard to tell. I couldn't see a sink. I did see a refrigerator. Three actually.
"Come in! Come in. Hmmm! I'll have to fix that one of these days. How about a cup of coffee?"
I looked around the room.
"Thanks anyway, Lonnie, I have to be somewhere else in 10 minutes." (Anywhere else! please!!) "I'll just sit on this beanbag chair since all your other chairs have stuff on them."(Beanbag chair in the kitchen?)
"Oh..that isn't a beanbag chair, that's a bag of garbage."
"Oh?" I was impressed. He actually had some garbage in bags. I got out of there as quick as possible.
Sadly, a couple of years later the town burned the house to the ground. Strangely, it is the second one of his houses they had to burn to the ground. I am sure many little critters died a fiery death. I believe they invited the national guard and a reserve unit to shoot the rats as they were fleeing the burning building.

Moving on....

I met my friend Agatha on the beach a few weeks ago. She just won't give up. She had to vent or spew her opinions once again.
She is always talking about "the blacks". Obama, the black, not Obama the president. The blacks are taking over the country. They are ruining it. They have insufficient brain matter to run this country. We are doomed.
She listens to such intellectual heavyweights as Rush Limbaugh, Homer Simpson and Glen Beck.
These are her happiest moment in her life. She is in her element when she is criticizing a democrat, a black, a foreigner (Kenyan?).... Obama.. JACKPOT!!!.. bells and whistles, patriotic music. Flying spittle and excitement. I think she just had a political orgasm.
Is that possible?

Finally...one day I just looked at her kind of funny and she said, "What?"
"Your one of us, aren't you?"
Agatha was dumbstruck. "Wha..What too hell are you talking about?
"You're...a black, aren't you?...one of us."
"You're not black, fool!! You're as white as me."
"I mentioned before that I am Obama's cousin. We are black Irish. Uh..huh..look at your skin. Is that the skin of a white person?"
Agatha sits in the sun every day. She has a deep tan. Is that tan all from the sun?

"Don't deny it. I will not ax you to dance or dunk a basket or spell incarcerated. You are a black. Just like me."
I gestured for her to give me a high five. She ignored it.
"You're crazy!!!" she snorted as she ran off the beach.
I turned to the little French lady and said, "I think we have resolved this issue."
We did the high five.

I have a lot more weird friends. They are interesting people. But I don't want you to think all my friends are weird, just most of them.

I made it. I survived.

2011-08-02T11:50:00.001-07:00

A Tale of Survival

This is a heroic and epic tale of overcoming daunting circumstances and unbelievable danger.

No, it wasn't the holocaust, WWII, the McCarthy era, hurricane Katrina, September 11th, 2001, the Obama presidency, the Bush presidency.

None of those.

It was called "growing up in the 50's". A time fraught with many dangers that people today can't even imagine. I was reading an article today about the dangers of growing up in the 50's. It is nothing short of a miracle that there are any of us left that can reveal what really happened in that era.

Let us start with my birth. I was not born in a hospital. I was born in a maternity home in my hometown. I am not even sure there was a doctor present. I didn't ask and I didn't really care.

I weighed 4 pounds 7 ounces which is on the smallish side. A circumstance of birth that I never overcame in my adulthood. I was a giant compared to my wife, the little French lady. She weighed 2 pounds 8 ounces when she was born. Between the two of us we weighed almost as much as a human being. Almost seven pounds.

We survived the circumstances and the weight of our birth. One thing that may have affected my weight was the fact that my parents were smokers. They also didn't mind tipping a few Pabst Blue Ribbons on occasion.

When I came home from the maternity place I was put in a crib that was painted with lead paint.

Nobody died from it. Nobody became hyper or mentally challenged because of it.

Yes, we had some "not too clever" kids in our class, but I assure you, it was inherited.

We were fed terrible food. Dangerous foods. Things like peanut butter, bacon and eggs and numerous danger fraught dairy products like milk, cheese, and butter. Not one kid in my 1st grade class died of a heart attack or an allergic reaction.

I don't remember a child in our class who was autistic. In fact I can say that about the whole school and the whole town. NOT ONE CHILD!!! No one was autistic. Hmmm!!?

The most nerve wracking disease for my era was polio. I knew a few people who got polio. This was kind of scary.

Now comes the horrific stuff.

You are familiar with child proof caps. Yeah, the ones that adults can't open. We didn't have any child?proof caps for medicine. We just had to turn clockwise and the cap came off. We could chugalug as many aspirins as we felt like. Oddly, I don't remember any kids ever doing that.

We rode bicycles, played baseball without helmets. The cars we sat in did not have seat belts, we rode in the back of trucks standing up. None of my friends had dented heads. In fact no one I know had a dented heads or twisted limbs.

Wait a minute!!!! Our cars didn't have airbags either. WOW!!!!

I drank water out of a brook, out of a garden hose, from a container 4 other people had used before me. I should have died of amoebic dysentery or typhoid fever at an early age.

We ate huge quantities of cupcakes, refined sugar, kool aid, cake, cookies, potato chips, Pepsi, Coke, Fudge bars and nobody was fat. WHY????

Well, I was really too busy to analyze that one. I was outdoors from about 8 AM till about 4 PM. My mother had no idea where I was. She did not call 911 and report me as missing. No search parties were organized. She knew I was probably at my friend's house mooching a meal at lunch time between our baseball games. We didn't have play dates. We had fist fights and wrestling. We solved our own issues with reason and brutality, whichever worked best for the situation.

If I wasn't home by 4PM for supper...too bad for me. My mother didn't operate a restaurant or cafeteria. Either you went without or possibly she would keep it warm in the oven if she was having a really good day.

Then I would go out and play for a couple more hours, especially if I had school that day.

I would not spend a whole lot of time watching television since we didn't have one. We knew who had televisions. Their house would be completely dark except for the silver glow of the round television screen as seen by a 10 year old boy who happened to be walking. Occasionally we would knock on people's door and ask we if we could watch television. They would let us watch one program and tell us we would have to go after the program was over. We were very grateful.

It was many years later that I realized it did not always snow during the "Buffalo Bob Show".

I thought it was always bad weather, not bad reception.

This part is going to shock a lot of people.

Our telephones were hooked to a wall. They weighed about 11 pounds, you could throw them against a wall and they would still work. They had a rotary wheel on the front and the wheel had holes in it. In each hole was a number and three letters. You would put your fingers in the whole and move the wheel in a certain direction until you hit a finger stop, then you would release your finger from the hole and it would return to its original position. This was referred to as "dialing the phone."

If you were a little trouble maker like me, you would just dial some numbers and get to talk to people in exotic places like, Yellow Knife in the Yukon, Capetown, South Africa and Belfast in Northern Ireland.

Before the dial phone it was very similar to what you see on "The Andy Griffith Show."

"Sarah, connect me to Emmett's garage." You just told the operator who you wanted or you gave her a number like 842R or 93J1.

If you had a speech impediment this could become a problem. Something like "twee, twee, teven..aw" (337R)

Operator: "Huh?"

Phone user: "Opowaito, Ju giz me da wong numba!!!"

Operator: "Huh?"

Then there was the issue with "party lines". This was a really nifty thing if you were a kid.

A party line was a pretty weird concept. Your family and someone else's family had the same phone line. If the phone rang once it was for you. If it rang twice it is for your neighbor down the road.

The nifty thing was you could listen to your neighbors gossiping if you picked up the telephone from its cradle really gently. You could listen for a while. It was really bad form to shout out stuff like, "THAT'S A LIE, YOU PIECE OF CRAP" or "GET OFF THE PHONE. YOU HAVE BEEN GOSSIPING LONG ENOUGH." I do apologize for doing it, but I was young.

Another weird thing about the phone system was that there was no call waiting or answering machine or voice mail. If you called someone and they weren't at home, too bad for you.

School was a place you had to have survival skills. The teachers had weapons and they were not afraid to use them. Most teachers had big wooden paddles. They would use them on boys and girls alike. Mostly boys. I saw one guy beg for mercy because he had a boil on his ass. The teacher didn't believe him. He was not spared. I know of some legendary matches among teachers and students in high school. I only saw one. The teacher won. I am talking about physical confrontation. I think our teachers had to go through some type of boot camp before teaching at our school.

Strangely there were no lawsuits. The only time there was mention of a lawsuit was in 1951 when a bus was taking a summer outing to a place I went swimming every day. This day I decided not to go. The bus hit some gravel on the side of the road. The driver lost control and the bus rolled down an embankment and ended upside down. There were 54 people on the bus. Only a couple were seriously injured. Another miracle, really!!!

I survived all this and more. Did I mention the fallout shelters? The atomic fire drills?

Ummm!....Please don't tell anyone but......It was a wonderful time to grow up.

Somebody's got some splainin' to do!

2011-07-19T15:01:00.001-07:00

Me!!! Sorting it out.

Things are getting a little fuzzy in my head and it is not my hair. I am trying to make sense of what is going on in the world. My world. Making sense of nonsense.

For starters, so you know who these people are?

Who would you trust in these pictures?
The people on the top or the people on the bottom?

The people on the top are the infamous hippy Billy Bob Clinton and his main squeeze, Hilly Rod Clinton.

Probably basking in the after glow of some naughty thing they did.

The very family oriented couple below are obviously made of a much finer thread than the hippies above.
The man is a musician. His wife with the huge dress is a judge.
His name is John Michael. The woman is Sharon Rachel... Levy.
They call him John Michael, Ozzie ....Ozzie Osbourne.
He is the lead musician in "Black Sabbath". His favorite food is frog legs. Or frog heads.
Sharon is a Judge on "America's got talent".

The next couple have a common bond. They both have had a family member killed and now they are trying to finance a search for the killer or killers. They would be grateful for any contributions to aid in their search.

Please make all checks payable to:~~The Golf Club and Night Club Fund.~~ Make that: Jonathan Hemlock on this site.

I will now move on to new business and observations.

I will call them keen observations by a Squirrelly senior citizen.

About nature.

Robin's cannot fly. They are very much like a turkey. Turkeys just walk around bobbing their beady little heads like a skilled boxer and end up on a table at Thanksgiving. Why they are not extinct is beyond my understanding.

The Robin can get around ok just don't ask them to fly too much. I have seen squirrels in my backyard fly more than a Robin and they are usually much higher up in a tree than a Robin. You will usually see a Robin running around on the front lawn, huffing and puffing and jumping to avoid the cat that is chasing him. huff…puff…jump…huff…puff….jump.

Another myth: They do not fly south. They hardly fly anywhere. They hitchhike on the back of busses, 18 wheelers, anything that is heading south.

Dumb as a dodo or mourning dove.

We have some Mourning Doves in our backyard. They are not very clever. They spend most of the day running into my windows and the side of the house. They have big bodies and very small heads. Obviously their brains do not take up too much space in their heads. I believe the Mourning Dove will probably evolve into the first headless bird.

Another myth: Why are they mourning? Usually because one of their colleagues just did something dumb and now is deceased, not because of the sound they make.

Old hat:

Old pictures:In the early 1900's men always wore hats. They wore them properly.
Apparently it became a lost art. Nowadays, people do not know how to wear hats. They have them on sideways , backwards, oversized, undersized, everything but right.

Additional information:Men often wore hats and ties just about all the time. Usually a wool suit, a tie, vest, white shirt, wingtip shoes, argyle socks, Wildroot cream oil in their hair, and a dab of bay rum on their cheeks.
The only exception to this custom is when you had diarrhea. Then it would be acceptable to wear only a hat and tie.

Seniors:
Many seniors are at the initial part of their life, like AARP, RIP, DOA, SSI.

Bad Candy:

I returned some M&M's to the company that makes them. They had mixed in some E's and W's. They sent me a free bag.

Signs of aging disgracefully:

My mind is making contracts my body can't keep.
My little black book contains names ending only in M.D.
My knees buckle but my belt won't.
My back goes out more than I do.
I sink my teeth into a steak and they stay there.
I know all the answers but nobody is asking the questions.
But there is some good news, people.
Kidnappers are not really interested in me.
No one expects me to run into a burning building.
People no longer view me as a hypochondriac.
I constantly talk about the price of gasoline in 1962.
I enjoy hearing about other people's surgery.
I had a party and the neighbors didn't even realize it.
Now when I talk about good grass, I am referring to my lawn.
I can remember 1957 like it was yesterday.
Hmm!.....Why can't I remember yesterday?

And finally.... my neighbor, Elmo, who is single, responded to this ad on the internet:

SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I'm a very good-looking girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cozy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. Rub me the right way and watch me respond. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Kiss me and I'm yours. Call (843) 8xx-xxxx and ask for Daisy.
Who says you can't find someone to love on the internet.
In fact, that is how I met "The little French lady."
Elmo has found the love of his life. Daisy!!
She is the sweetest black lab you would ever want to meet.

swimming with Sharks

2011-07-12T07:44:00.001-07:00

good size jellyfish. kinda flattened out.

Our Neighbor Wendy caught this good size sting ray. Wendy is holding the fish pole.

pretty girl, ugly porcupine puffer fish

Swimming in Myrtle Beach.

Why would anyone swim in the ocean?

Oh! now I remember.

or not!!!

Aggravating Agatha

2011-07-06T14:14:00.000-07:00

"Run, Agatha, Run!

"THE PROBLEM:"

I have this talkative neighbor, Agatha, who seems to be the world foremost authority. You name the subject, she has the truth....not an opinion, The TRUTH!!!
Oh, there is one exception. She does not own a computer. She refuses to own one. Google is not in her vocabulary. The only windows operating system she is aware of is made by Anderson. Apple Macintosh is only a tasty fruit to her. To Agatha, IBM means impending bowel movement.

If I was forced to give her a political affiliation, I would label her somewhat to the right of Rush Limbaugh and Glen Beck.
She yearns for days of the past. The twentieth century?....No! Perhaps somewhere between the eleventh and nineteenth century would suit her fine. That is our Agatha.

We used to see her on the beach everyday. We would try to engage her in normal conversation. She will talk like a normal person for a while. At some point in our dialogue her eyes would start twitching, her lips would start trembling, her pupils begin dilating then glaze over and perhaps roll into the back of her head. She groaned, shook her head.
My wife, (the little French Lady) and I were wondering if she as going to faint or she was having some kind of mystical sexual experience. We were hoping for the latter.

Then she looked at us with total clarity and said, "Did you watch Rush Limbaugh today? He says congress should impeach Obama. I think he is right. Glen Beck thinks so too.
Everything that has happen since 1988 is Obama fault. Our country is being run by a black foreigner. He is letting "the blacks" take over the country. The blacks...blah..blah. blah..blah Obama blah blah blah blah "the blacks"....blah..blah..blah?"
Spittle and drool roll down her face.

"Agatha, I have to go take a dump now, if you will excuse me." We walk way very fast.

"Whew, I thought we would never get away. Did you see that? She went into an altered state of consciousness. It was like she was transported to Limbaughland." the little french lady mused.
"Maybe she is one of those Tea peer's." the wife said thoughtfully. "One of those folks who drink Tea and pees a lot and complains about it?" I queried.
"Yeah...those."

After that we tried to avoid her. If we saw her wandering on the beach and she was heading towards us, I would ask my wife, "How far can you swim underwater?" The usual answer was, "not far enough."
We had a problem. We needed a solution.

THE SOLUTION: Sometimes the solution just in front of you don't realize it immediately.
I was watching the news recently and President Obama was visiting Ireland. It seems that his mother had Irish ancestry. Interesting information. I could be related to him since I am also since 3 out of 4 of my grandparents were Irish. It is a small country.

Hmmm...wait a minute.
I could tell Agatha that he is related to me. I will have to make a history, a cover, just like a CIA agent....
I am his cousin..twice removed, whatever that means. This could work. Let's see what going to happen.

THE EXECUTION:
I prepare my documentation (a photoshopped picture of Obama and me talking in the oval office) and commence to strolling and trolling the beach. I know it is a matter of time. This is like fishing.
On the third day of ~~trolling~~ strolling the beach Agatha spots us. She waves at us and we casually feign disinterest. I flick my wrist casually towards her. She is waving. I look at the little French lady and she shrugs and we keep walking away from her.

Now Ag is waving frantically with both hands and running towards us. We are walking away from her but not very fast. She finally catches up with us.
She is winded, but she runs pretty well for a 79 year old person with a heart condition.

"Oh...Hi Agatha. When did you start jogging? You have to be careful at your age. but I think it is wonderful that you are concerned about your health and have started jogging."
"I didn't think it was very healthy for you to fall asleep on the beach like you did yesterday."
"Carry on, don't let us stop you."

"Wait!!!...(gasp...huff) I not jogging. I am trying (heavy breathing) to catch up with you and I wasn't sleeping on the beach yesterday. I fainted while trying to catch up to you."

"Oh!...? So what's up?"
Agatha's lips started quivering, her right eye started twitching, the eyes..they dilated, her face became flush. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, apparently retrieving some bit of arcane Rush Limbaugh data from her memory bank. She gasped, moaned, shook her head, then smiled.

"Did you hear what Obama did?"
She broke into a giggle now.
"Cousin Barry? what has he done now?" was my snappy rejoinder.

"Barry? who's Barry? I'm talking about Obama."
"Barry O'Bama. That's what family calls him." I stated casually.
"No, No! I am talking about Barack Obama, that bad black president."
"Yeah, we're talking about the same guy. My cousin Barry O'Bama, the President. The white Republicans are giving him a hard time. That guy."
"Some of you "whites" don't seem to like him."

I pause for effect. It is time to set the hook.

"power to people. now let's have a stout and a potato."

"He's Irish, You know."

Now, I can see Agatha's mind spinning.
"He's black..."
"...Yeahhhh!...What's your point? Haven't you heard of Black Irish? Google it.
Oh, I'm sorry you can't, can you?"

I feigned pent up anger.
"Are you one of those colonialist who exploited our homeland? You white people!!! (said with righteous indignation)
"You whites are always doing that kinda crap. You made life hell for us black Irish during the potato famine, Agatha, Do you ever aks yourself if this is right?"
"You do?....You lie!!!!"

Agatha is slowly backing up. she is nervous. I am jabbering incoherently. Spittle is flying from my lips. I am extolling the virtues of being Irish and black and how this knowledge has improved my basketball dribbling skills and the drinking of the beer afterwards. she now is running.
"She's pretty fast for a 79 year old white woman with a folding chair and a backpack on her back."
I think I had her at "aks". The little french lady nodded. "Oui!"

"Have a lovely jog, Agatha!!!!"

Stuart Woods to the rescue....not!!!!

2011-06-08T18:02:00.000-07:00

Writer's block?

Prologue: Stuart Woods is a world famous writer of mystery novels. He wrote the book "Chiefs" which was made into a television miniseries. He has written over 40 books.

He is a nifty guy.

I am a blogger. I had writers block, of a sort. I figured Stuart could help me. I emailed him. My email is below.

Greetings Stuart,
Help me!
I am a blogger. I have created a character named Colt Brandisher. I have developed a life for him. He has a car. (1957 Citroen) a girl friend, (Candida Goldblatt), a job, (city defective....detective.) and friends. I have blogged my writing process.
After much introspection and thoughtI have modeled Colt after your character, Stone Barrington.
I had considered John Sandford’s character Lucas Davenport, however Colt was not too keen on spending time in Minneapolis, eating at Subway, and reassembling frozen corpses that went through a stump shredder. He did like the idea of the Porsche but I told him Stone had a Mercedes Benz. I also mentioned that Lucas had serious mental problems. He suffers from depression and is afraid of flying, whereas Stone Barrington doesn’t seem to have a care in the world and lives in nice places like New York, Washington, Connecticut and frequents Palm Beach and Key West.
I believe you have enough background information. Here is my problem.
I started writing a story on one of my blogs. I seem to have painted myself into a proverbial corner.
It seems that Colt will die in the first paragraph.
:
“Colt heard the cacophonous sounds of tree frogs croaking their maudlin symphony as the leaden projectile zoomed towards his head. Ironic, he thought. he would be croaking very shortly also. The high functioning brain that currently had the appearance of freshly cooked cauliflower would soon resemble half cooked turnip, perhaps mash potatoes, but certainly not cauliflower.
Colt thought of frogs. He liked frog legs. He would not have a chance to eat them again.
In fact, they would probably be feasting on his legs very soon.
"What!!!!...why am I thinking about food? I am milliseconds from death."
They say your life passes in front of you when death is imminent. Colt's life did pass in front of him. It was a boring life. He had some time left so he started thinking about food.”

Stuart, Do you see my problem? Help me!!
Now I want to talk a bit about Stone Barrington.
He seems to take way too many naps. perhaps he should consider sleeping at night, if you catch my drift.
It seems no woman can get close to him without dropping her knickers, which makes me wonder, “What kind of aftershave is this guy using?”
Stuart,......This guy is a slut.
Does he use protection? He already has one unplanned love child. It is miraculous this guy doesn’t have herpes. Stone better step up. Right now he is acting like a democrat politician. The difference is: a democratic politician can’t keep their pants zipped up and the Republicans can’t keep their mouth zipped up.
Well, I hope you can help me save Colt. He is such a nice guy. I don’t want him cut down in his prime.
If we can get this issue resolved we will meet in Delano, Georgia at your place. We will invite Lucas Davenport. we will have one of Stone’s female friend can cook us up some steaks, served with a bottle of 1945 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild Jeroboam. (Colt will bring it with him) and then we will repair to the study and drink brandy and smoke cigars.
Colt will pass on the cigars. He doesn’t smoke. However if your cook will bake some cannibas brownies Colt would be glad to partake of the brownies. He has glaucoma.
This would be considered medicine in many states.
Perhaps It would be wise to serve some peperoni with that. A few hundred slices, a couple boxes of ritz crackers (fat free) and a few pounds of Cabot cheese. Maybe a few litres of Pepsi or Coke.
We will celebrates Colts resurrection.
Thanks Stuart.
PS: I live in SC. I was going to Georgia for a photo layout of “The Girls of Delano” for Playboy magazine. I have read about their beauty in your books. I couldn’t find the girls. I couldn’t find Delano.
I think we should meet somewhere and discuss this. How about Elaine’s? Late?

Epilogue: Stuart answered me within an hour on his iphone. His reply was, "You got yourself into this; get yourself out."

At first I was crushed that he didn't help me. I thought about this for a few minutes and realized That was the answer. He really did give me the answer. I will get myself out of this. Thanks,Stuart!!!
Ironically, nobody will be going to Elaine's in New York City. Elaine Kaufman died in December 2010 and it closed in late May 2011. One of Stuart Woods favorite spots. It is an end of an era.

SCAMPI:The review: Not a four star restaurant.

2011-05-23T16:40:00.001-07:00

I am committed to good food.

My wife (the little French Lady) and myself have become addicted to Geocaching. We have been doing our little adventure of finding Tupperware in the woods using million dollar satellites for about 6 months. We are getting further from home, looking for caches.

Last weekend we were about 30 miles from home. The day was winding down and we were getting hungry. Enough geocaching for one day. We should get something to eat. We were famished. We weren't too familiar with the area so we just drove around looking for a place to eat. We were not interested in Burger King or Kentucky Fried Chicken.

We finally saw a place that sounded pretty interesting. It was called SCAMPI. I like Italian food, and so does my wife. We pulled into the parking lot; it was a huge parking lot. Good sign. I must say the building was quite impressive also.

As we walked through the parking lot we noticed a security guard walking about. Another good sign.

We were met at the door by a very distinguished gentleman. He was obviously the maitre'd of SCAMPI. We were greeted.
"Good evening, My name is Sigmund and you are....?"
"Jonathan Hemlock."
"... and she is?" "Ms Hemlock."

Sigmund walked over to his computer and I saw him type my name into google. His eyebrows raised and mumbled something like, "I thought he would be taller."
I took this to be a good sign.
"Ah, Mr. Hemlock! Welcome."
"We would like to be seated near a window . Preferably in a booth"
"I'm sorry we do not have any windows or booths, Mr. Hemlock."
"Whatever. We will have the special."
"Fine. Mr. Capote will bring it to you."

This guy had a real large attitude problem. He wanted to be called Truman. He thinks he is a president or something. He acted very gay. A gay president. What next?

As we waited for our food a couple of gentlemen joined us at our table. They were introduced as Mr. Harry Callahan and Mr. Walter Kowalski. These guys also had a surly attitude, yet I felt strangely comfortable with them. We introduced ourselves. Their attitude brightened when I told them my name.

"Hemlock?...huh, I've heard of you." Callahan queried. "What are you doing here?" "Geocaching." I answered.
Callahan and Kowalski just looked at each other and shrugged.
Our food finally showed up. It wasn't scampi. It was Shepard's Pie.
"Truman, you gave us the wrong meal."
Truman's attitude became condescending and huffy.

Harry stood up. "I've had trouble with this guy, too. I think he stole my bread stick."
He grabbed Truman by the lapels and said, "I know what you're thinking, punk! Did he have five breadsticks or six? Well, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being these are Olive Garden Bread Sticks, the most tasty breadsticks in the world, and would clearly satisfy anybody's appetite, you have to ask yourself one question. Do you feel hungry, punk?...Well, do ya?....?"
"Do you have anything to add to that, Kowalski?"
"Ummm...No...just stay off my lawn."
"Check please!!!" Harry and Walt were getting a little cranky.

We told Sigmund that we received the wrong food. He told us to sign the release and there would be no charge. We signed.

"Bernard will show you to your room." Bernard was a wiry little guy.
"You can call me Barney. Everyone does. Hey, would you like to hear me recite the Preamble to the constitution?....We.... We?"
"Nip it, Barney. We are not staying here tonight."
Sure you are. You just signed yourself into SCAMPI."
"We just came here for the food. We didn't even get our scampi."
"Well, there's your problem right there. Sigmund we have a problem."
Sigmund reappeared. Bernard explained. Whispering and nodding. "Aha!!!"
The situation was explained to us.

RECAP: All the things we thought were a good sign, were bad signs. We were just told that we have signed ourselves into SCAMPI: the South Carolina Asylum for the Media Programming Indoctrinated. We thought we were in an Italian Bistro, but it was really a mental asylum for people who have watched too many movies, too much television, read too many books and lost their identity.
We probably would not have gotten into SCAMPI if I had used my real name. I used my blogging name and Geocaching name. This usually is not a problem. However when Sigmund (Freud) googled me, my name came up as a fictional character... Jonathan Hemlock, a character in the movie Eiger Sanction, played by Clint Eastwood.

When we sat at our table we were seated with Mr. Callahan (Dirty Harry!!) and Mr. Walter Kowalski (Grand Torino). Both were characters in Clint Eastwood movies. This is why I felt comfortable with these guys. What could be more natural?

So there was a little misunderstanding. Our friends are horrified with what has happened to us. We will be here for at least the next 45 days.

I will bring some ice cold
Silver Bullet beer, guys.
If I get drunk enough I
will give you a peek under my
mask.

They are trying to get us released. I told them to mind their own business.

"Your deal, Hemlock!"

I am enjoying playing pinochle with Johnny Carson, Adolph Hitler and the Lone Ranger tonight.
I hope I don't get Hitler as a partner again.
My wife is having a nice French meal with Charles De Gaulle and Napoleon. Ahhh... Home cooking.
Bring me back some cretons. The guys will love it.

I'm a Deather. I have found my calling.

2011-05-04T05:21:00.001-07:00

Navy Seals(camoed) Great job, guys!!!!

I am feeling abject and despicable shame. The local delegate from the Republican party has just left our house. He gave me the Republican IQ test.

I am considered an imbecile due to my chosen political affiliation. This is humiliating. I did not get one answer correct. I even signed my named incorrectly on my test paper. I signed it on the left side. I should have signed it on the right, which indicated that I have leftist tendencies.

The local delegate harangued and browbeated me for about an hour. Before he left he gave me a copy of his book which he called "My Struggle".

So, I am studying "My Struggle" and taking copious notes.
My wife hollers, "Hey, They just killed Osama Bin Laden."
"Who killed him?" I queried, "A bunch of Seals" the answer.
"Wow, did the seals slap him to death with their little flippers? I would have thought he would be inland instead of on the ocean. I didn't know there was much coast line in Afghanistan."
"It was Navy Seals and it was in Pakistan."
"Oh good! chock one up for our side. Where's the body? When are they going to show it? Are you going to the funeral or wake?"
"No funeral, no wake, no body." was the little French ladie's reply.
"WHAT?".....Here we go again. They buried him at sea.......Right!!!!
Not happening. I have to see a death certificate, a mangled corpse, a crying widow or widows in his case, DNA.
Rush Limbaugh will want to know.

Has the American public been punk'd by the government again???

Here's a few examples:

(The Moonwalk tapes) This is the original Apollo 11 hoax. The Moonwalk tapes were actually done at Universal studios' back lot. In moonwalk, take 3, You can hear Neal Armstrong say, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for me. oops....I just stepped in dog poop. I told them not to use the Lassie sound stage." ....... "CUT!...CUT!!..Wrong again, Neal. It is for mankind, not you. Are we going to have to call Tom Hanks for this scene...Take 4."

(The Agnew proposal) The original Apollo 11 hoax worked so well that Vice President Spiro Agnew proposed at a cabinet meeting that the next astronauts land on the sun. He was guffawed out of the meeting. He was told that the astronauts would burn to a crisp on the sun. It is too hot. A couple minutes later he stuck his head back into the meeting and said, "We could do it at night." Nixon took this under consideration and appointed a task force to investigate this possibility. Nixon resigned before it could happen.

(FDR, the marathoner) You never saw FDR walking, and there was a good reason for this. He couldn't walk. The government did a wonderful job covering up this fact. I did not realize that FDR could not walk until I was a teenager. Today they would photoshop him, they would have him running the Boston Marathon, playing tennis, playing touch football, and playing 18 holes of golf. You would never see him in a wheel chair. This would be bad PR. The president of the US in a wheelchair? This would be deemed as weakness. So the American public was punk'd back in the 30's and 40's.

No more punking. I want to see Osama's death certificate and Obama's birth certificate.

Which one has the hair on his face? I am confused. Well...anyway...ummm, this helped me find my calling. I am a deather.

A deather is the opposite of a birther. Prove to me you are dead, show me your death certificate, DNA samples, your corpse, in person, if possible.

This probably won't be enough but it's a start.

I mean, look how elaborate a scheme Obama had for the presidency.

Somebody early on in his life said, "Hey, this kid could end up being president of the United States. Yikes ... let's make him a citizen of some place in the US. Maybe Hawaii.

We will have to sneak him out of Kenya."

This was a well thought out plan. He is actually a Kenyan Muslim who became president because of good, well thought out planning.

Do you think I am buying the "Osama is dead" story? H....E..L...L..O.....!!!!!

Walking on the moon, walking on the sun, FDR running a marathon, Osama dead, Obama an American Citizen, Paris Hilton a Virgin. How much are we supposed to believe?

I believe what the Republican party tells me to believe. That's what.

Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck?.... I do?...Oh...well....

"I AM A DEATHER!!!!"

Smoking!!

2011-04-16T05:25:00.001-07:00

cough! cough!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, How bad can it be if Einstein did it and Sherlock Holmes did it? Intelligent and logical, right?

I did it for forty years. I know about smoking. It was wonderful. I really enjoyed chemistry in high school. Most of the chemicals I dealt with in high school were in the Lucky Strikes I was smoking.

How did it all get started? It was easy. It all started during my sophomore year of high school. The "In crowd" would go to a hangout that was just off school property. I wanted to be part of the "In crowd".
We will call this place "Scottie's" to protect the guilty. This is where I went for lunch. I had a choice of eating in the school cafeteria, which served awful stuff like Shepard's Pie, Lasagna, Beef Stew, Chicken Stew, Baked Tuna Casserole for 15 cents (milk included) or go to Scottie's and have a tasty bag of Wise potato chips and an absolutely delicious bottle of Pepsi. A no brainer. I went to Scottie's with the rest of my friends. (Yum..yum!!)

Scottie's was not a big place. It had 3 or 4 booths, a bench, and about 6 stools. The place was built to hold about 20 or 25 people max. At lunch time it had about 50. There were two shifts of about 50 people. If a fire marshall had walked into the place he would have had a stroke. Everybody was smoking and putting out their cigarettes on the floor. It looked like a mosh pit. The owner had an orange tree in the window. It gave nicotine flavored oranges. In this environment I started to smoke, actively and passively.

Cough! cough!

My friend Andy would steal cigarettes from his grandfather, his father, his mother, anyone that had cigarettes. I would "bum" cigarettes from him and others after they got me hooked. One day Andy growled at me, " Why don't you buy your own cigarettes?" Ironic?
He was yet to buy his own first pack. I pointed out this discrepancy in his logic. This actually gave him a chuckle. We decided to split cost so we both could smoke.

When you start out smoking tobacco you tend to experiment a little. You start to be pretentious. I started smoking a pipe, a nice curved briar pipe. I purchased some nice smelly pipe tobacco. The old guys would smoke things like Mechanic's Delight, Half and Half, or Prince Albert, of "Do you have Prince Albert in a can? well let him out" fame.
The younger pipe enthusiasts like myself smoked Borkum Riff, Mixture 79 (or was it formula 44) or other exotic mixtures.
I was very pretentious about the whole thing. I would act like pseudo-intellectuals.
People would ask me a question and I would puff on my briar thoughtfully, not immediately answering their question. I would slowly start to talk, then suddenly stop, take the pipe out of our mouth, look at it, then I would either relight it or clean the pipe.
Then I would say, "Now what was your question?" But the questioner would be long gone.

I was quite arrogant and boorish. I would sit on some steps near the school, puffing my briar with a book in my hand. Maybe it would be War and Peace. People would walk by and I would say something foolish like, "It's about Russia." Most of the time people would just mumble some obscenity.

I even tried cigars. A few big stogies, a few rum crooks, a few White Owls. This grew old rather quickly and I went back to cigarettes.

I enjoyed cigarettes for many years. I loved coffee and a cigarette. I loved cigarettes when I was drinking beer. Delicious combinations. These combos were like...bread and butter, cheese and crackers. These things were meant for each other. Cigarettes were pervasive in my life and it seemed like it was pervasive in everyone else's life. At some point it started to control my life. I realized there was a problem.

My life started to revolve around cigarettes. Everything else was secondary. I had to do a cigarette count before I went to bed at night. It was just not an option to wake up and have no cigarettes in my smokey filled life. Their had to be a plan. I could not be without access to tobacco. The thought of running out of cigarettes made me edgy and nervous, almost paranoid. The thought of it would make me perspire profusely.

Then something bad happened. At least I thought it was bad but it turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. I injured myself at work and it would require surgery. It was a hernia. I would be in and out the same day.
All went well, I would stay at my parents house for a couple of days and recuperate. I could still walk. The pain killers had not worn off and I waddled to my sister's house which was very close. I was having a good old time. I drank some coffee, ate some fried food, had some more coffee. I felt like I was ready for a cigarette. I lit one up.

Five minutes later my sister and brother in law were dragging me up the street to my parents' house in a semiconscious stupor. I was put in bed and I slept for about 12 straight hours. That last cigarette got my attention. I haven't smoked since. I never felt the urge to smoke again. Strange.

I do tell the people who wish to stop smoking that it isn't one day at a time, it's one urge at a time.
I wish I had never started smoking. I am glad I stopped. It was starting to get really tough to find a place to smoke. I have seen smokers standing out in a field out in the middle of nowhere during a blizzard, not wearing much. I could picture the headline in my head, "10 SMOKERS LOST DURING BLIZZARD, SEARCHERS START RECOVERY OPERATION."
Well, I guess they died happy. Clueless but happy.

A reformed smoker is like an insurance salesman, a Mormon missionary, and 3 Jehovah Witnesses, all in one package. We are the worst. We lecture. We are right.
Do you know what your house smells like? Do you know what you smell like? Do you know what your lungs look like? How do you feel about toting around a canister of oxygen? Do you know how much money you would have now if you invested the money you spent on cigarettes into Apple stock in 1990?

The little French Lady is a reformed smoker too. In Canada they kept cutting down on places she could smoke. She wouldn't smoke in her new car and she wouldn't smoke in her new condo. She really couldn't smoke at work. One day she was standing out in a field near Laval with three other shivering smokers and said to herself, "What to hell am I doing?" She hasn't smoked since.
Until we quit our attitude was: What is wrong with these non-smokers? What a rude group. So what if I burned a whole in your rug? Get over it. We call that collateral damage. Why is your baby coughing? Oh, well.... get him to hell out of the room. Why can't I smoke in your car? It has an ashtray, doesn't it? WHAT IS THEIR PROBLEM?

Now that we are reformed smokers, we look at smokers with disdain and contempt. You smell bad. Your car smells bad. Your breath is like an ashtray.
I will be a better person than you. I will allow your canister of oxygen in my car.