From the local newspaper, two TV listings that caught my eye:
(COOK) Extra Virgin Gabriele and Debi get chickens from fresh eggs.
[Is this an example of the philosophical conundrum: which came first, the chicken or the (fresh) egg?]
(HGTV) Donna Decorates Dallas A teen wants a rich, Texas hunting lodge-style in his room.
[I guess it wasn’t enough that Debbie did Dallas already, now it has to be decorated in a rich, Texas hunting lodge style. And for a teen, no less.]
Filed under abbreviations, absurdity, humor, Random Access Thoughts, Random thought, TV listings, word play, words
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The apothecary was almost done making the cough drops, but the Kibitzer was tired of watching. He ho-hummed to himself, took another bite of some slightly stale popcorn, and decided watching was not always what he had pictured it would be. It was a very unpleasant observation and it did not sit well him or his stomach. The popcorn didn’t help. He belched once in hopes of relief.
It was during the descent of the belch out of his mouth that he heard what sounded like a pop, saw the delivery boy run out of the saloon, and then watched as lightning tripped the light fantastic across the kid’s body.
He then saw another two or three people scurry out of the saloon as if escaping an unpleasantry, like a distant relative’s interminable funeral or a spelling bee where they were next up and the word was interminable.
The Kibitzer forgot all about the cough drops and stepped outside, glancing toward the sky as if somehow he could observe a bolt of lightning before it hit him, and then considered running through the rain to the other side of the street.
That’s when a young lady came up and kneed him in the groin.
The Kibitzer dropped to the wooden sidewalk, balled up, and began rocking back and forth as if it might dissipate the pain.
“My name’s Bonnie,” she said, leaning over him. “No man leaves my apothecary without payin’ for what he ordered.”
“I wasn’t leaving,” the Kibitzer said, his teeth still clenched.
Finally, he rolled over onto all fours.
“Didn’t you see the kid out there? He got struck by lightning?”
Bonnie shrugged. “Happens a lot lately. He’ll be okay. Nobody in this town dies anymore. Been bad for my business, I tell you.”
The Kibitzer was again standing fully erect, if feeling a little tender. The rain had slackened to almost a light drizzle.
“We already lost two undertakers and the saw bones has gone back to yankin’ teeth. If it weren’t for medicinals for that, I’d probably be blowin’ in the wind, too.” She then slipped him the bill for the cough drops.
The Kibitzer looked at it. “What, no discount for the laying on of hands?”
She smiled at him, then raised her hand. In the muddled light of the evening, she still looked quite menacing. “I didn’t finish.”
The Kibitzer paid her and gave her a generous tip.
He then dashed out into the rain, forgetting the cough drops.
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Oh, if my client weren’t thin,
I might try again
To give ol’ Ozzie a wondrous spin.
But as it stands now,
I’d have to be more than a cow
To udderly grasp the glass teat, oh how?
And if I chocked the chicken
It might take a lickin’
And come round a pickin’
a row
with the cow
or a sow
somehow.
I'm not sure what to make of this offer on Twitter. If she thinks I am somehow one of these women in the guise of a not-so-slim-waisted man, she would definitely be disappointed.
As a recent member of Twitter, it sometimes surprises me what can get done with only 140 characters.
Take this offer, for example. Certainly the name should say it all: “Jenny Breastits.” But to further drive home the point, she is “@LovelySoftBoobs.” And if that is not enough, her description makes it absolutely clear what she loves.
What I don’t understand is why she wants to follow my tweets? I am not a woman, don’t have the naturally full items she is most interested in, and I possess a not so slim waist. If she thinks I am harboring any of these things, she is suffering from delusions I cannot even begin to fathom.
Twitter may have a limit of 140 characters, but it does seem that at times, all of those characters are odd.
Filed under absurdity, fun, humor, odd, puns, Random Access Thoughts, Random thought, sex, slim waist, social media, true story, twitter
The blathering idiot went to the dermatologist. Once the examination was over and the doctor had looked at his knuckle pads and his tinea versicolor, the dermatologist pronounced him a case of idiopathic medicine.
At first the blathering idiot felt insulted. While not the brightest bulb in the box or the sharpest saw on the rack, he did not consider himself an idiot, and he told the doctor so.
The doctor smiled, and then said, idiopathic means “modern medicine does not know the cause of either of your conditions.”
He then explained that for the knuckle pads, “we usually do nothing, unless they start causing you pain.”
For the tinea versicolor, a naturally occurring fungus that is in everybody’s skin, “it just runs a little wild in some people,” he gave the blathering idiot a prescription, then said of having two idiopathic conditions, “It just means you’re special.”
That made the blathering idiot feel better.
He then went to his local pharmacy to turn in his prescription. As he turned in the script, he saw a sign glued beneath the lip of the counter that read: “Select narcotics in time-delay safe.”
When the pharmacy technician took his prescription, the blathering idiot asked, “Which ones can I select?”
“Which what?” the tech asked.
“Which narcotics?” the blathering idiot said.
She looked at his prescription. “Your script doesn’t say anything about a narcotic.”
“But I can select one, right?”
She frowned. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not supposed to get any.”
Select Narcotics in Time Delay Safe
“It does not.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Where?”
He pointed at the sign. “Here!”
“It does not—”
“Yes, it does.” Clearly this young woman had not heard that he, the blathering idiot, was special. “Come out here and see.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what? Read?”
She glared at him. “I can’t come out there. It’s against the rules. I am the only person on duty back here right now and the rules say I can’t leave my station.”
“All I want is what the sign says I should select.”
“I think you should go to another pharmacy,” she said and offered him back the script. To be sure he understood, she pressed an intercom button and asked for “special assistance” in the pharmacy.
Insulted when a guard appeared, the blathering idiot snatched the script and marched out the door and to the next nearest pharmacy. As he walked up to the pharmacy counter, he again found the words: “Select narcotics in time delay safe” and hoped he would have better luck here.
Filed under absurdity, blathering idiot, dermatologist, doctor, fiction, humor, idiopathic, puns, Random Access Thoughts, Random thought, tall tales, word play, words, writing
Expressing concern over the rising number of non-reports, County of K Mayor TB recently issued an executive order banning all sex offenders from public libraries.
Plans are underway to compare a list of registered sex offenders to the libraries 150,000 active cardholders, who would then be notified to stay away from the libraries. When asked about those offenders who don’t have library cards, or who may be homeless and can’t get a card because they don’t have an address, the mayor had no immediate response.
“I just don’t want them anywhere around our kids,” TB said. “The ultimate decision is how we pursue it.”
When asked where these offenders could go, TB said the local bookstores. They already handle banned books. Why not banned people, too?
A manager at a local bookstore, who asked not to be identified, responded that this was “another example of an unfunded government mandate.”
A library worker, when asked how she would identify a sex offended, said she didn’t know how she would identify a sex offender. “It’s not like they come up and self-identify.”
Under a new state law sex offenders can be banned from libraries and such identification could lead to jail time, which would simply lead to more overcrowding, which the County of K already has a problem with. Still, the County of K Mayor felt he needed to get out in front of this issue and issued the first such executive order for any of the major library systems of the state. As a Republican, you can never have enough moral government, he was heard to say. And it usually doesn’t cost much.
County of K sheriff of nodding ham, J Triple said, “I applaud the state of Tennessee for putting tougher regulations on these dirt bags who prey on our children.”
When asked about enforcement, J Triple said with cooler weather coming on, he plans to provide free sweaters to those sex offenders, many of whom may be homeless. The sweaters would have the scarlet letters “D-B” stitched into them in a way that his deputies, using infra-red night scopes on their rifles, will be able to easily see on the chests of the offenders. All the deputy will have to do, Triple J said, is point his rifle at the library entrance and he (or she) will spot the registered sex offender. An arrest would then ensue.
When asked what happens once the sweaters start getting swapped, worn by the wrong person, or even show up on Salvation Army Thrift Store shelves, Triple J grunted that he would let the courts sort that out. Innocent dirt bags were not his concern.
In a somewhat related issue, on the same day as Mayor TB announced his ban, County of K Commissioner AE (Always Embroiled in controversy to her close friends), announced that she had a benign tumor removed from her parathyroid gland. Though the symptoms of the tumor were fatigue, pain, fluctuating blood pressure, and insomnia – not untypical symptoms for any County of K Commissioner these days, she was glad the cause of her distress had been found and treated. Recovery time could take two or three months. When asked about the recent ban of sex offenders from libraries, AE reportedly muttered, she could only hope there was a similar tumor at the top of country government.
Filed under absurdity, announcement, books, fun, GOP, government, humor, hypocracy, law enforcement, offenders, Republicans, satire, sex, words, writing
Captured on pixels and only on pixels. Don't try this at home, unless you want to be silly.
Who says you need a professional photography to get a good portrait photo? suitable for framing, for use on resumes, or to simply impress a date on your dating web site page or personal blog. And for the mere price of three easy installments of $39.95 each, I will teach you the same tricks and tips that I know.
How come most of the “people” that want to follow me on this social medium are diet gurus, body part enlargement specialists, and get rich quick schemers? Don’t they know I’m a multi-plus sized coach potato with a sweaty beer in one hand, a twitchy remote in the other, and a wallet flatter than a left-over night of pleasure?
Filed under absurdity, beer, diet, guru, humor, Random Access Thoughts, Random thought, remote control, satire, social media, twitter, word play, words, writing
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The Cough Drop Kidd and the Kibitzer rode into town. It would have been in a cloud of mentholated dust, but because it was raining, it was in a slosh of mud and a cough laced with glycol. They were almost out of cough drops and the Kidd was not happy.
“Kibitzer,” he said between sniffles, “go get us some.”
“I’m only here to watch,” the Kibitzer said, “and for the popcorn.”
The Cough Drop Kidd pulled his six-shooter and pointed it at the head of Kibitzer’s horse. “You wanna observe riding or walking?”
The Kibitzer’s horse’s ears flicked back and forth as if trying drive away a fly. The Kibitzer blinked a couple times and finally said, “I’ll go watch the apothecary mix up a batch.”
The Kidd nodded and raised the barrel of his pistol skyward. “Be quick about it. I’ll be in the saloon getting a hot toddy. A little honey will help my throat.”
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The Kidd entered the saloon. It was beat up ol’ place with chairs that had legs that didn’t match and a bar rail so wobbly it had a hand printed sign hanging from it that said: Donut touch. That means u.
The floor creaked to the point he was sure it was talking to him, saying something like, “Donut go there.” But he paid it no heed as he stepped toward the bar. This part of the Wild Side was full of things that spoke when not spoken to. Some said it was haints. Others said it was spirits. And some even said it was bottled spirits. Even though he was wet all over, the Kidd was parched.
“Hey, dandy boy, wipe your feet. What do you think this is, your corral?”
A few people looked his way and a couple of folks chuckled, but most kept doing the mopping and card playing and lying they were doing before.
The woman yelling at him was tall and a little on the heavy side, which meant this business had been good to her. The Kidd liked that about her. She was standing behind the bar, so thus far what he liked was only from about the waist up. She was wiping out a glass.
When he was up near her, he whispered, “I’ll have a hot toddy.” His voice was about gone.
“Well, I do declare,” she said, “the dandy wants a hot toddy.”
“A what?” somebody at the bar asked. His back was to the Kidd, so the Kidd didn’t know what he looked like.
“A toddy. A hot toddy.” She said the words again and winked back at the Kidd. He wasn’t sure if it was a friendly gesture, or a twitch.
The man turned around. His face was as scuffed as the floor and as beaten up as the chairs. Tobacco juice ran out of one of the corners of his mouth. One eye was lazy and one earlobe looked as though a coyote had chewed on it.
“Dandy,” the man said, spitting on the floor, “we don’t serve your kind.”
It was that moment that the saloon went quiet, except for the gentle swinging of the saloon doors and the floor saying, “Told you.”
“Package,” a voice said. “Package for a Cough Drop Kidd. Is there a Cough Drop Kidd here?”
All eyes turned toward the Kidd.
The Kidd turned toward the delivery boy in his granny spectacles, gray cap with a black bill, and clothes too starched and too new to have been worn much in this town.
“One D or two?” the Kidd asked, lightening still flashing just outside the saloon doors.
“Ah,” the delivery boy looked down at the package, “two.”
“Good. The Kid with one D works the lower territory south of the divide. We call the divide the D-M-D for short.”
“And for long?” the boy asked.
“His D ain’t that long,” some cowboy shouted.
The others in the saloon chuckled.
The delivery boy turned bright red, dropped the package, and skedaddled out of the saloon, getting immediately struck by a lightning bolt. The box hit the floor and broke along one of its sides. It bulged open, spewing books across the hardwood, every last one of them different, one of each and each one about vampires.
“So, you a blood sucker, Dandy?” The floor-faced man stepped away from the bar and his hand rattled toward his holster. He had rattlesnake rattles in a band around his wrist and his hand twitched slightly.
The Kidd glanced around. The card games had stopped. The lying had stopped. Even the moping had stopped. The woman behind the bar twitched him another smile and then ducked down behind it. She moved quick for a big woman.
This town is cursed, thought the Kidd. But he didn’t have much time to think anything else. The floor-faced man’s hand was at the top of his holster.
Below are two haikus. The first one is written by Bob Deck, who posts at least one a day on his twitter account. His Twitter account name is bdeck. The second haiku is my response to his.
Email offer boasts
“Luxury Bronze Spray Sculpt Tan”
stupid as I look?
Your body now bronze
Success and neighbor envy.
Talk in muted tones.
Filed under bronze, call and response, fun, haiku, humor, poem, poetry, Random Access Thoughts, Random thought, tan, word play, words, writing
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