In Praise of Hoss

Just because us old people in the Old People's Home are old, doesn't mean we just bought a turnip truck. Nosiree, a lot of us are quick in the head (an old Navy term). I mention this so's you'll know about an improvement I've made in the World of Blog.

Lately a lot of people have been pushing their blogger friends to answer a "meme," which I think is short for "Me, Me!". What they do is ask their blogger buddies a series of questions about themselves, so we can find out if they're nutcases or just wet noodles. And then the lady that asked all these questions never comes back to read the answers. Here are examples of the kinds of questions the "me-me-ers" ask:

"What attracted you to your mate other than the prospect of getting laid?"
"Do you give your children oddly-spelled names like 'Plane Jane' and 'Humpdiddel'?"
"Why are you sitting there typing when you should be looking for work?"

Well, here's my improvement, which I call the "anti-meme." Instead of asking questions about you, I give you a chance to ask questions about ME. Here are the questions and assignments:

"Why am I so brilliant?"
"How do you prevent yourself from wanting to cuddle me?"
"List not less than 100 of my best qualities." (Most people get up to 200 before they run out of steam.)

If you have time, write an essay describing 200-400 of my other good qualities. Neatness counts.

I don't know why someone else didn't think of inventing the "anti-meme." It seems like I have to do everything.

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Merle Hertz is standing in the hallway today while Myrna Wisenheimer moves in. She is carrying one bed pillow, and behind her is a mover carrying a twin bed.

Merle says to Myrna: "I bet you're single."

Myrna: "Why, yes. How did you know?"

Merle: "You're ugly."

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Fred Boor and I are sitting in the Fireside Room reminiscing about our childhoods. One thing that came up was having to memorize a whole shitload of nursery rhymes. This was about 65 years ago, but we still got most of them down pat:

Horse: "Jack and Jill went up the hill; it's okay Jill's on the pill."

Fred: "Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and doesn't know where to find them." Well of course you don't know where they are, you twat. They're lost!

Horse: "Hickory, dickory, dock." Our teacher said that "dock" is what they do to male sheep when somebody orders Rocky Mountain oysters.

Fred: "Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a cow pie."

Horse: "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? In cannabis and coca plants, all right in a row."