Category Archives: Cartoon

February 12, 2012 · 8:16 pm

The blathering idiot and cornucopia’s delight

“Why don’t we have pet names for each other?” Zoey asked.

The blathering idiot’s on again, off again girl friend appeared very concerned with the answer to this question. Unfortunately, he did not have one: answer or pet name. He did know that Valentine’s Day was coming, and being short of cash, he proposed this idea: “What if we give each other pet names for Valentine’s Day?”

Zoey nodded, then added, “But I think we should make it a little more sporting. We each come up with a pet name for the other person and whoever comes up with the best one, gets to pick his or her own pet name, which the other one has to use in public.”

“No matter what?” he asked.

“No matter what.”

The blathering idiot felt acid pour into his stomach and forgot to ask who would be the judge.

It was 48 hours to Valentine’s Day and the blathering idiot had no idea how to begin. Where did people get “pet names” anyway? Didn’t they just make them up?

The blathering idiot tried making up a pet name. He filled up pages and pages of names he scratched down and then scratched out. But the ones he liked best: indigo eyes and violet lips would have forced him to get a new girl friend and he didn’t think that’s what Valentine’s Day was about.

Terms of endearment

He pulled a dictionary off the library reference shelf, and frantically rifled through it, scanning and flipping pages as fast as he could. It was less than a day to V-Day and he felt the acid in his stomach was about to eat through his brain. Somehow, cornucopia’s delight, while different, was a little hard to say regularly.

Xenia, Zoey’s daughter, was at the library, and seeing the blathering idiot in such a lather, she took pity on him. She walked up to him and told she would give him the same list she had given her mother, a list she had printed off the Internet.

The list was in three columns, the first column with the names; the second column saying if was a female “term of endearment,” a male one, or both; the third column was for comment and usually had the word “caution” or words “explicitly suggestive” beside the terms that could be a problem. There were seven pages of these terms. The blathering idiot had no idea there were so many pet names (terms of endearment).

He immediately eliminated the terms cuddly wuddly, cutesy chick, cutesy pie, cutie pie (Did there really have to be two such ugly terms so closely related?), and cutie patootie. Anything that sounded like it might even remotely be referring to a body part would get him trouble.

He also eliminated sugar plum, sugar pie (What is it with pie?) sugar lips, sugar britches, sugar bun, and sugar booger because they all mentioned sugar, and Zoey had been complaining lately of being fat. Plus, to the blathering idiot, there was no way to make booger sound good.

Anything with baby in the phrase was also eliminated because she sometimes referred to Xenia as “her little baby,” which irritated Xenia no end. Of course, those terms with baby in them were the first ones Xenia suggested.

The blathering idiot also eliminated terms with flowers in them, especially buttercup, since it had both butter and was a flower. Zoey already had Xenia, and that was the only flower name she wanted in her life, unless they came in a bouquet.

The night before he was to meet with Zoey to decide who had the better “pet name,” the blathering idiot couldn’t sleep. He walked around his house saying all sorts of names out loud.

“Cherub?”

No. He wasn’t sure what that was, which probably meant he’d be in for it even before he got in to it.

“Bunny?”

No.

“Honey bunny?”

Definitely not.

“Love muffin?”

While he would love a muffin right about now, it being one of his favorite foods, it was still a food, and she knew muffins were one of his favorite foods, so he knew she’d be wondering if he was seeing her or a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin every time he said it. And truth be told, it was sometimes easier to picture himself with a muffin than with her.

Several hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, his voice hoarse and his thoughts a watercolor blur, he collapsed into a chair, the terms of endearment on the desk table beside him.

The next evening, dressed in a shirt, tie, and dress pants, he met Zoey at the appointed time in the appointed restaurant.

He wasn’t quite sure who should speak first, and he guessed neither did she.

Finally, she said, “Who should go first?”

The blathering idiot quickly took a sip of water, but then decided to get it over with. He first started off explaining everything he had gone through to get to his conclusion, but long before he was near his conclusion, Zoey was drumming her fingers on the table.

Finally, she said, “What did you decide?”

The blathering idiot quickly took another sip of water.

Unable to think of anything – he’d even left the list at home – he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Cornucopia’s delight.”

Except it didn’t come out quite that way. Instead it came out “Corn and peas deli.”

Stunned for a moment, Zoey then laughed and laughed and laughed, but in short order told him that if he didn’t take their relationship any more seriously than that, she never wanted to see him again.

Just then a tray of muffins came by the table, and the blathering idiot decided he’d think about those for a while.

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Filed under blathering idiot, Cartoon, cornucopia, humor, pet names, Valentine's day

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January 29, 2012 · 10:38 pm

The blathering idiot has questions

How can a door be a jar?

Just the other day, the blathering idiot had some time to kill, though he wasn’t sure it was alive to begin with, and while pondering the philosophical depths of life, came across questions for which he could not find answers. Below are a few of them.

How can a door be ajar?

How come left behind means you’ve lost it, but right behind means it is still with you?

How come you can be told to sit down and shut up, but never sit up and shut down?

How come you can give a nod, but never take one?

How come when you are taking a bow, you are giving it to somebody else?

How come a house warming doesn’t involve starting a fire?

How come you can give somebody the shirt off your back, but you have to beat the pants off him?

How come politicians run for office, but stand for re-election?

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January 15, 2012 · 10:36 pm

If they’re running for office…

Running and yelling don't make sense.

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Filed under Cartoon, child, eight year old philosopher, humor, politicians, politics

Tagged as cartoon, eight year old philosopher, humor, politicians, politics, running, yelling

January 7, 2012 · 2:57 pm

New Year’s thoughts from the blathering idiot

Don't know; don't want to know

If the universe was made for me, why doesn’t it fit better?

If I was made for the universe, why do I feel like I was made from all the second-rate spare parts?

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Filed under blathering idiot, Cartoon, fun, humor, the universe, word play

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November 19, 2011 · 8:42 pm

The Bagel Dilemma and the Eight Year Old Philosopher

The bagel dilemma

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Filed under bagel, Cartoon, eight year old philosopher, humor, Philosopher

Tagged as bagel, cartoon, eight year old philosopher, humor, LinkedIn, philsopher

November 5, 2011 · 4:42 pm

The blathering idiot and the blue tooth’s other byte

The blathering idiot had a blue tooth device for his cell phone. One of those devices that fits in the ear and wirelessly syncs to your cell so you can talk and receive calls while being hands free. The ear piece makes you look important or stupid. Zelda, the blathering idiot’s on-again, off-again girl friend had bought the device for him and he had eventually learned to work it. When he first wore it, she laughed and said he looked like a goofy Borg. It was then he told her she needed to lose a little weight.

There was one problem with the blue tooth. Every now and then, the voice in the blue tooth ear piece would announce in his ear: “There is no active phone.”

He would then move, sometimes not very much, and he would hear the voice say: “Your phone is connected.”

Zelda was away, and besides she was mad at him, so he couldn’t ask her for help.

Instead, he planned to experiment.

First, he laid his cell phone down and walked away from it until the voice in his ear said: “No active phone connected.”

It wasn’t that far, but farther from his hip to his ear.

He next walked around a corner into another room. After a few steps, heard it again: “No active phone connected.” Then “Your phone is connected” when he came back around the corner.

He then decided it must be corners. He would avoid going around corners. If he had to make a turn, he had to make it a 90-degree turn.

He worked to avoid corners, but eventually he would bend his body to avoid a corner, or even make himself sit down to think how he was going to avoid a corner, and he would hear the voice: “No active phone connected.”

Beware of the blue tooth's byte

He decided maybe it was his clothes. So he started wearing different types of shirts and pants and even underwear. But that didn’t solve the problem.

Finally, one day he sat down and he turned his head to the left to see where he had placed his candy bar. His phone was on his right side. He heard the voice. He reached down to touch the phone, to make sure it was still there. Instead he accidentally touched his body fat. He pushed it aside and he head: “Your phone is connected.”

He let it go and he heard: “No active phone connected.”

He put down his Snickers bar and went outside for a walk.

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October 22, 2011 · 11:09 pm

The misunderstood PPE gargles

The misunderstood PPE gargles
Are related to the ancient fargles.
They live in a land
Of neither rock nor sand,
But they fit over eyes like sparkles.

These oddly named PPE gargles
Can only be worn by gargoyles.
When they sit on the edge
Of a building or ledge
The gargles give their eyes stargles.

These stargles come out in the night
When there is no moon or no light.
And only the gargoyles can see
With their gargles PPE
All the wonders and terrible frights.

Fargles were gargles of a time
When the gargoyles lived in the brine.
And all they could see
Without the fargles that be
Was the salt, the sea, and the grime.

Gargoyle with his PPE gargles

Now armed with their PPE gargles
Gargoyles with stare at their stargles
They will sit on their ledge
Whole worlds in their heads.
And nary burp, nor chirp, nor hargle.

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August 28, 2011 · 6:19 pm

The blathering idiot, zombies, and aliens

The blathering idiot stood in her kitchen listening to his sometime girlfriend Zelda debating with Xenia, her daughter, about which would be worse an invasion of aliens or an attack of zombies. Zelda said the invasion of aliens would be worse with their ray guns and flying saucers and killer robot armies. Xenia said it would be zombies because they looked “just like us, but would eat our brains out.”

The debate went on for another ten minutes or so, the blather idiot dozing off as he learned against the counter. Snatches of his head popping off, rotating fast, and zooming away like a flying saucer filled his snoozing, so he kept waking up.

Finally, to end the debate, they turned to him.

Domestic Dispute on a Cosmic Scale

“Which one?” they asked in unison.

“Which one, what?”

“Aliens?” Zelda asked.

“Or Zombies?” Xenia asked.

Now his head was really spinning. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t really care. It wasn’t even Halloween, so what did it matter?
They stared at him. He felt a rivulet of sweat run down the side of his neck.

It was like asking him to choice between toast with crunchy peanut butter and toast with smooth peanut butter. He liked them both. He also liked other things on his toast. Why did nobody even ask about the toast?

After what seemed like a day, Xenia harrumphed and left the table.

Zelda stood up, shook her head, and said, “Typical.”

She then turned and walked away from him.

That night, while sleeping along, the blathering idiot was visited by an alien ghost that told him he must decide or else. It was hard to understand the alien because of all the high-pitched tones and squeaks.

He woke up lying cross ways over his bed; it squeaked as her pulled himself around into the proper position.

When he went back to sleep, he was visited by a zombie ghost that told him, as best a zombie could, having no brain and all, that he had to use his head and make a decision. He woke up with part of his pillow in his mouth.

After that, he couldn’t sleep. He wondered if there were really aliens out there who might swoop down and invade the Earth, or even just his house. And zombies, well, while he was fairly sure they weren’t real, one could never be 100 percent sure about such things. After all, there were werewolves. He’d seen one at a carnival when he was six.

The blathering idiot went to the bathroom, and while looking in the mirror tried to figure out what was going on. He turned on the small light next to the sink and as it shined up on his face, he stared in the mirror. His pale face looked as if he had died. Pale, blank stare from empty eyes, he reached up and removed a piece of his pillow from his mouth. He then tried to speak, to say something to calm himself, but when he did, only a short squeak came out. It was then that he knew what his answer was.

He couldn’t wait to tell Zelda and Xenia. Neither could be disappointed in him.

When he got to their house, he walked inside and into the kitchen, and made his announcement. “It’s neither aliens nor zombies that I would fear,” he said. “It is alien zombies who would come to Earth, eat the Earth zombies and then starting eating the regular girls and mothers.”

First Xenia and then Zelda looked up at him and smiled. “We’re past that,” they said in unison. “Now we’re trying to figure out who would be a better kisser, an angel or a vampire? What do you think?”