One or the other…

I spent this past weekend in Memphis to play a little golf with a friend there.  I drove down Friday evening and we played Saturday and Sunday.  I hooked up with my golfing buddy Saturday morning at his house.  Because we were going to take his vehicle to the golf course I was rummaging around in my truck, getting out golf clubs, shoes, etc.  This is when I discovered my bicycle helmet in the backseat, triggering an idea for a little fun.

Before I went into his house I put the helmet on my pointy little head.  I then walked around inside his house  for a good 3 or 4 minutes without my buddy, his wife, their son or a visiting aunt saying a word, asking me why I had on the bicycle helmet.  I was waiting for the question, “Why are you wearing that helmet?” I was going to answer, “Because I have been golfing with Steve before!”  – Ba-dum-tssss –  I finally asked, “Is anyone wondering why I have on the bicycle helmet?”  Apparently they were not, perhaps they were practicing good manners by ignoring a faux pas by a guest.   I gave them my punch line anyway… tough crowd, at least they did not pelt me with rotten tomatoes.

Either I need to get a new set of comedy writers or dive deeply, searching my twisted, troubled, tortured, tragic, traumatized, tail-spinning ghost of a soul on how the world perceives it and me… or both.

And so it goes.

One More Time, Again

The operation into the jungle against the enemy stronghold had been a cluster from the git-go.  We were pinned down, no way to retreat. The flanking units were in the same situation or worse. We had repulsed two frontal attacks, taking heavy causalities.  It was doubtful we would survive a third. The Lieutenant belatedly called for air support. After what seemed like a gut wrenching eternity, we heard the screaming of approaching jets, and then the whistling of the bombs and explosions, explosions much too close, one after another. I heard a particularly loud whistling, and just before the blast wave hit me, I remember thinking, “Someone really f*** up the coordinates.”

When I became aware again I found myself prone on bare, pebbly ground, naked and cold. Continue reading “One More Time, Again”

Relativity

“When you sit with a nice girl for two hours you think it’s only a minute, but when you sit on a hot stove for a minute you think it’s two hours. That’s relativity.”

There is a current meme floating around with this Einstein quote. Investigating the veracity of the meme quote, one site concluded it was from a busy Einstein through his secretary to a bothersome reporter needing a quote.

What started my thinking of relativity Continue reading “Relativity”

2 One sentence short stories

These would also work as the opening lines of much longer stories.  Selected Shorts, a NPR program, occasionally has a writing contest for stories of less than 300 words or so, anyway very short. These might be too short.

The Ceiling: A short story in one sentence

Wishing his nights were not inhabited by the demons of past missteps, the ghosts of lovers gone, and the general detritus of everyday living, he lay awake wondering how to get to the dawn.

Paris Dream: A short story in one sentence

She had dreamed of living in Paris her whole life, completing college successfully she moved there, only to encounter her first uncircumcised penis, immediately deciding that Schenectady was not so bad after all.

The first story obviously came Continue reading “2 One sentence short stories”

Telepathy?

Living intimately long-term with someone can be a wonderful experience, and at times it can be a bit strange.

Señora and I were stripping the sheets from the bed in preparation of laundering them. We had completed the task of removing the bed sheets, and I was standing next to the bed momentarily still.  The mental gears were actually churning, and I was forming a question in my mind, “When was the last time we washed the mattress pad?” Before I could utter the inquiry she said to me, “Do you think we need to wash the mattress pad?”

Now, Señora is very intuitive when it comes to people. The mattress pad was not particularly dirty; it had just been a while.  Perhaps I was staring a bit at the pad, and she picked up on that.  At the time it very much felt like she had read my mind.

This is not an uncommon occurrence for us, but it does seem that most of the time it is her picking up on what I was about to say or do.

Whatever it was and is, it is still spooky!

John Carter had the capability of preventing the Martians from reading his mind.  Perhaps I should have a conversation with him about his method.

And so it goes.

Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #5,123

yeah I know you did not ask!

Flipping through Twitter I came across yet another selfie from a self-described “patriot”. This gentleman was overweight, shirtless but wearing a military style flak vest, and thrusting his assault rifle to the forefront of the picture so it would look bigger. The coup de gras for me was his tattoo.  From all appearances, a homemade job from a very drunk comrade displaying “Liberty” above an indecipherable line drawing  with “Or Death” underneath that. I’ve seen prison tattoos more artfully executed.

I am convinced that some organization or government is slipping a substance into the national beer supply. It is giving these “patriots” a deluded vision of manhood as a result of pernicious impotence. Given the imbibing propensities of Americans, spiking only 2 or 3 national brands – usually light – would do the trick.

Another good reason to drink imported beer.

Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #563

yeah I know you did not ask!

The other day I was at home, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt.  Needing to go to the store, I tucked in my shirt as it was cold enough to need a light jacket.  While I do it a times, I think it looks a bit sloppy to have your shirt tail hanging out beneath your jacket.

Upon seeing me with my shirt tucked in, admittedly rare for me, Señora said, “My, my, how fancifed you are. Where are you going?” Well not her exact words, but the sentiment is the same.

I’m thinking this retirement gig has lowered our standards a bit.

 

La Fiesta de San Juan

One thing I really love about studying español is my conversations with people in other countries. Via Skype, I can practice and sharpen my burgeoning skills (do I dare insert LOL here) with the language.  I love it because I get to learn about other countries and other cultures.  When they asked me questions about my country and culture, I sometimes see our practices, our attitudes, our beliefs in a new light, perhaps I am even forced to re-exam some of my own long held tenets. Occasionally, I am at a lost for an answer. Try explaining our gun laws to a foreigner, it somewhere between very embarrassing and impossible. As a whole, I have learned how similar we human beings can be, while appearing very different.

Via Skype, I was visiting with a young accounting student, Konrad, who lives Continue reading “La Fiesta de San Juan”

We Bonded

The beginning of last week Señora became very ill.  We thought she was having an attack of sinusitis or possibly the flu.  A few days into it, she lost her sense of taste.  Despite having had both doses of the Moderna vaccine, she tested positive for COVID.  After a miserable weekend she had the infusion treatment Monday, and she is improving.  She remains very fatigued  and is still missing the flavor of food.

Out of an abundance of caution, Señora suggested Continue reading “We Bonded”

Rev. Joe’s Random Thought #5,975

yeah I know you did not ask!

Señora for Christmas last year bought me a tear off calendar with daily puzzles. Most are fairly easy, but some require a little thought.  This is the one that popped up October 14.

Which one does not belong: 22  45  51  96

It was proof positive that 30 years of programming have warped my mental processes.  I looked at this, and immediately decided that 96 was the odd man out.  Why? We all know about 2 character state codes, AL, MO, AR, OK, MS, etc.  But there are many software applications that use a two digit state code ranging from 01 to 51, and for the purpose of these applications the District of Columbia being counted as a state.

When I looked at the answer I knew my logic had been twisted by bits and bytes.  As you are racing to tell me, the correct response is 22, being the only one when divided by 3 that does NOT result in a whole number.