“I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different.” ~~ Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country
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Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #8,063
yeah I know you did not ask!
Florida famously is the warm, tacky place old folks retire to to await their pie in the sky. They are down there in gator-land, realizing that their golden years are more fool’s gold than Inca ingots. Additionally, their kids seldom come to visit, and when they do it is a fly-by drop in on the way to Disney World.
Wanting to get even for these indignities, they have started sending to the rest of country the most gawd awful politicians imaginable: Ron DeSantis, Rick Scott, Marc Rubio, Matt Gaetz, ad nauseam… literally
Go visit the old folks in Florida. Maybe next time they go to the polls they will not be quite so vengeful.
Just saying.
Drunk Santa?
Probably no one but me has made this connection…. Careful, despite my firewall, virus protection program and aluminum foil hat I can still hear you whispering over my wireless connection, “Yes, it is just you.”
They claim as you get older the connection between your brain’s synapses get a little, we are going to go with freer. The neural network becomes Continue reading “Drunk Santa?”
Word of the Day – Pulchritudinously
- Adjective: Pulchritudinous – adverbial form Pulchritudinously
- Beauty (especially of a woman)
- Comely
- Synonyms:
- admirable
- alluring
- angelic
- appealing
- attractive
- beauteous
- bewitching
- charming
- Usage:
- “Can this troublingly-named, pulchritudinously-vacant site improve things at America’s top airlines?”
- Encountered:
- While reading ZDNET article: Southwest, United, and American Airlines have a new enemy — the internet’s ugliest site
To see more Words of the Day, visit this link: Words of the Day
Worst Opening Sentence – 2022
“Who’s on First?” was perhaps the most famous sketch of Abbott & Costello. It is essentially seven or eight minutes of word play that cracks me up every time I come across it on da’ net. It is the continuation of themes common in the Burlesque era of entertainment, which is where the act of Abbott & Costello got its start.
Mark Twain rose to fame with stories such as The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County which was required reading when I was in school during the Paleolithic period. The gist of the story is that a man feeds buckshot to a frog in order to win a bar bet. Want to know more? Read the story.
I saw myself following Continue reading “Worst Opening Sentence – 2022”
My New Plan to Make My Fortune
Step 1: Recruit a curvaceous Sweet Young Thing, henceforth known as curvaceous SYT.
Step 2: Dress up my newly recruited curvaceous SYT in a sexy, see-through, next-to-nothing nightgown that does nothing but accentuate her God given charms.
Step 3: Hide her behind the Christmas tree.
Step 4: When Santa comes down the chimney she will step from behind the Christmas tree giving Santa her best come hither smile, all the while shaking her money makers. This causes all the blood in Santa’s head to rush precipitously to his candy cane…stripped or otherwise. Santa faints from lack of oxygen in his brain.
Step 5: While the curvaceous SYT is ascertaining whether Santa needs CPR… or other services, I rapidly scale a previously situated ladder. Jumping in the sled, grabbing the reins, I pilot Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Dunder, Blixem and Rudolph to a secret location strong enough to retain nine angry reindeer. I hear Rudolph has such a mouth…
Step 6: Fence the nine reindeer. I can only imagine what a team of freaking, flying reindeer that can fly around the world in one night must be worth. I am sure Rudolph with that nose so bright will bring twice what the others fetch. And that endless bag of toys, there is no putting a price on such a thing.
Step 7: Hire Elon Musk to clean my 42 bathrooms.
And so it ho, ho, ho goes.
Do you know what…
Occasionally Señora and I will find ourselves alone, walking Princess Lily, riding in the car together, sitting around the firepit savoring a fine bottle of 2020 Chambourcin from Stricker Weinkellers, obviously a wonderful time to have a deep, intimate or intellectual conversation about any number of topics. Señora has a propensity to start off these opportunities for erudite palaver with the phrase, “You know what…”.
Last time this happened I replied, “Which one, I know both the Watt boys. I went to school with both of them.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I went to school with both the Watt boys, James and William. Well William they generally call Bubba, but Continue reading “Do you know what…”
Purgatory?
My troubles are many, they’re as deep as a well
I can swear there ain’t no heaven but I pray there ain’t no hell
Swear there ain’t no heaven and pray there ain’t no hell,
But I’ll never know by living, only my dying will tell,
Only my dying will tell, yeah, only my dying will tell
And when I die and when I’m gone,
There’ll be one child born and a world to carry on, to carry on
The above snippet of lyrics is from the Blood, Sweat & Tears song, And When I Die, a song that reached number 2 on the charts in 1968.
For many reasons the line, “I can swear there ain’t no heaven but I pray there ain’t no hell” has stuck Continue reading “Purgatory?”
Matrimonial Log – Star Date 5783.343
“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”
Although my overflowing fountain of creativity – that’s a yoke, son – at times has me wanting to send out a bus load of blog postings on some days, I generally try to keep it to one a day or less. No need to overwhelm my extensive readership with the mundane grumblings of a run-of-the-mill curmudgeon.
However… today I could not resist. I am not feeling well and have spent most of the day in bed. I have a memory of Señora at my bedside telling me she was going to the Valley (local area full of strip malls). An hour or so later I needed a beverage and went down to the kitchen to find this dire warning on the kitchen counter from my loving spouse:
I Think I Have Been Insulted
And so it goes.
Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #2,638
yeah I know you did not ask!
Anyone who has ever lived with a dog for any period of time will come to know that they are creatures of habit, creatures of routine. Señora feeds Princess Lily in the morning, time dependent on when Señora makes the commitment that this really is a new day and rolls out of the warm, embracing bed. But as soon as she does, The Wee Dog is following her around. Señora is very regular on the next feeding of our proxy child at 1700 hours.
Somehow this punctual pooch protegee knows the time, and about five or so minutes before the appointed hour her hirsute self is parked by her food bowl, her eyes tracking Señora.
I am going to find the miniature Rolex watch that must be buried under the fur on her little doggie wrist, and sell it. Maybe then I can recuperate, in part, all the money spent on food, all the money spent on treats, all money spent on toys, all the money spent on vet bills, that Señora has lavished upon our copacetic canine companion… or not.
And so it goes in our little ménage à chienne.