Traveling With Osama

(I may be a slacker for a few days. We are tripping to Bend, Ore., and I am unsure about wi-fi. But you know me; love will find a way -- maybe.)

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This here is the obligatory picture of Mt. St. Helens, which everyone in the Pacific Northwest has to go see because it is there.

Scamp and I were booted out of her house by house-hunters, so we had to go somewhere, so this is where we went. One statistic: When the Mt. blew up in 1980, it unleashed the equivalent of a Hiroshima-type bomb every second for 7 1/2 minutes. That is 60 x 7.5 = a lot of bombs.

You can lay that statistic on everybody you know. Go tell it on the mountain.

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When Osama Bin Laden died, George Washington met him at the Pearly Gates. He slapped Osama across the face and yelled, "How dare you try to destroy the nation I helped conceive?"

Patrick Henry approached, punched Osama in the nose and shouted, "You wanted to end our liberties but you failed!"

James Madison followed, kicked him in the groin and said, "This is why I allowed our government to provide for the common defense!"

Thomas Jefferson was next. He beat Osama with a long cane and snarled, "It was evil men like you who inspired me to write the Declaration of Independence."

The beatings continued as George Mason, James Monroe and 17 other early Americans unleashed their anger on the terrorist leader.

As Osama lay bleeding and in pain, an Angel appeared. Bin Laden wept and said, "This is not what you promised me."

The Angel replied, "I told you there would be 23 Virginians waiting for you in Heaven. What did you think I said?"

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My favorite phrase today is Page Down. Adj., getting to the bottom of things. Def.: If Mr. Down does not answer, page Mr. Up.

Merry Christmas to All, and to All.....

Usually I wait till Sept. 1 to talk about Xmas, but, what the hell. Halloween is approaching, so here are my favorite gifts for your toddlers for 2006. Enjoy.




























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My favorite word today is God. N., the guy who makes all the pictures of the Virgin Mary in your applesauce. Def.: Euphemism for Big Ernie.

How Oprah Fills in Feelgood

So Feelgood Haines is telling me what he read in the "Oprah" magazine (which is about 3,000 pages and I bet Feelgood couldn't read all that in a month).

Feelgood: "Hoss, this article I read in 'Oprah' is some punkins. It is all about how women is different from men, as if I didn't know already but I guess they got suckers who believe in this stuff."

Hoss: "Well, happy days to you, Feelgood. I knew you knew everything already."

Feelgood: "With pain, I am ignoring your smartass asscrack remarks. What it said was what you don't know. For instance, 'Men use about 7,000 words a day; women use about 20,000.'"

Hoss: "Sure, I knew that. The 7,000 words are 3,500 'mothers' and 3,500 'f--kers.'"

Feelgood: "You ass. Anyway, the 20,000 words women use have to do with babies and cuddling and diapers and assholes like you. Anyway, this article goes on to say: 'Men have on average ten to 100 times more testosterone than women.'"

Hoss: "I heard something about that. Do you suppose this has something to do with the 'morning after' pill?"

Feelgood: "Morning after? After what?"

Hoss: "Actually, I am damned if I know. It probably has to do with pickles, or ice cream."

Feelgood: "To hell with that book. Wanna go chase women?"

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My favorite word today is erection. N., what goes up must come down. Def.: More commonly known as a child's toy called "The Erection Set."

Short Shrift Saturday #37

Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Arizona when she saw an elderly Navajo woman standing by the side of the road. As her trip was a long and lonely one, she stopped the car and asked the woman if she would like a ride.

With a silent nod of thanks, the old woman stepped into the car. Resuming her journey, Sally tried hard to engage the Navajo woman in conversation, to no avail. The old woman sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying everything in detail, until she noticed a white bag on the seat.

"What in bag?" asked the old woman.

Sally looked down at the bag and said, "It's a box of chocolates. I got it for my husband."

The Navajo woman was silent for another moment, typical of an elder. Then she said, "Good trade."

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My favorite word today is passport. N., don't leave home without it. Def.: What port wine drinkers do.

Terrists and Other Subjects

What happens on the airlines where I'm traveling is, you don't bring nothin' on board that can burn or cut or massage. The guy on the left is me.

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I flew off to Chicago to see Vicki and assorted minions but I didn't last long. I am sorry to say that I am a weenie who can't stand being away from home. So, unless the Scamp can come with me in the future, I am not going. My life is too short.

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A college class is told to write a short story in as few words as possible, but the story had to contain three elements:

1. Religion
2. Sexuality
3. Mystery

The only A+ in the class went to this entry:

"Good God, I'm pregnant; I wonder who did it?"

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My favorite word today is denturist. N., the best choppers of all. Def.: What Denny was in Bermuda.

When Out of the Blue....

(I am going off to visit Vicki and her father in law for the next six days, and thanks to the latest terrorist plot I won't be taking my laptop. So posting might be sporadic, or non-existent, for the next several days. Enjoy my b**groll.)

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A U.S. Marine squad was marching north of Falullah when they came upon an Iraqi terrorist, badly injured and unconscious. On the opposite side of the road was an American Marine in a similar but less serious state. The Marine was conscious and alert and as first aid was given to both men, the squad leader asked the injured Marine what had happened.

The Marine reported, "I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway here, and coming south was a heavily armed insurgent. We saw each other and both of us took cover in the ditches along the road.

"I yelled to him that Saddam Hussein is a miserable, lowlife scumbag, and he yelled back that Senator Ted Kennedy is a good-for-nothing, fat, left-wing liberal drunk. So I said Osama Bin Laden dresses and acts like a frigid, mean-spirited lesbian. He retaliated by yelling, 'Oh, yeah? Well, so does Mrs. Clinton.'

"So, we were in the middle of the road, shaking hands, when a truck hit us."

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A freshman on his way to Podunk U. is enjoying his first airplane ride. But they had been aloft only a few minutes when he complained to the steward that his ears were popping.

The attendant smiled and gave the freshman some chewing gum, assuring him that many people experienced the same discomfort.

When they landed, the freshman thanked the steward, and then asked: "The chewing gum worked fine, but how do I get it out of my ears?"

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My favorite word today is life. N., may you have lots of them. Def.: Synonym for toilet paper, which goes faster the closer you get to the end of the roll.

Short Shrift Saturday #36

From a little news clip in my newspaper:

"Pants manufacturer Dickies has announced plans for a line of jeans designed to prevent 'plumber's butt.' Said Jon Ragsdale, Williamson-Dickies vice president of marketing, 'If there's anything we can do to beautify America, we're in favor of doing it.'"

You all know what plumber's butt is. It is what Hoss has waged a lonely, one-man war against for lo these many years months.

And, of course, I am losing.

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Incontinence hotline. Will you hold, please?

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My favorite phrase today is fighting for peace. Adj., piece of what? Def.: Synonym is screwing for virginity.

Hoss Fumbles the Question

So, Ol' Hoss goes out to the insane asylum mental hospital to see what's what. On the course of my rounds, I asked the doc, "How do you tell when you need to latch onto a body? I mean, what makes them crazy?"

"Uh, Hoss, we don't use 'crazy' here," he says. "Try 'mentally challenged'."

"Okay, how do you tell when some mental is challenged?"

The doc says, "We fill up a bathtub with water. Then we give the patient a bucket, a teacup and a spoon, and ask him or her to empty the bathtub."

"Well, that's easy. The normal guy would use the bucket because it's bigger."

"No, Hoss," says the doc. "The normal person would pull the plug. You want a bed near the window?"

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Happiness comes through doors you didn't even know you left open.

If Wal-Mart is lowering prices every day, how come nothing is free yet?

Some mistakes are too much fun to make only once.

Ever notice that the people who are late are much jollier than those who have to wait for them?

Have a fine day, and know that someone who thinks you are great has thought about you today: Me.

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My favorite word today is minute. N., three times a three-minute egg. Def.: Whether it is 60 seconds or a half-hour depends upon which side of the bathroom door you are on.

Somebody Said This Was Funny

Well, maybe THIS isn't funny, but it IS sorta beautiful.

This is a picture taken by some Scandihoovian of a real iceberg. Just think how many martinis you could get out of this.

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Of course you have thought that there ought to be more Commandments than ten. For instance, Ronald Reagan offered up what he called the 11th Commandment: Thou shalt not speak ill of another Republican. So I re-registered as a Democrat so I could beat up on Dubya.

But you probably got other Commandments, like these:

12. Whistle while you work.
13. Don't give chicken bones to the dog.

Enjoy yourself in the comments.

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I put spot remover on my dog. Spot disappeared.

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You might be a redneck if you view duct tape as a long-term investment.

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My favorite word today is English. N., no spikka da. Def.: The language where "fat chance" and "slim chance" mean the same thing.

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(I have been remiss in visiting a lot of you. This, too, shall pass. [Ho ho har de har har.] I shall resume passing, soon, I promise.)

Feelgood Wants Me to Feel Not Good

As I told you earlier, when I moved out of The Old Folks Home, Feelgood Haines came right along, taking a room right down the road from me. He is determined to see me through to the end (him not realizing that, for me, there will be no End, just a New Beginning).

Feelgood: "That just ain't right, Hoss, you messin' around with young women."

Hoss: "You talking about Scamp, you buttcrack? She ain't young no more, just pretty."

Feelgood: "Eight years can make a big difference, which is how much older you are than her. And there you are, your lungs shot through with emphysema, your prostate is gone, your appendix is gone, you've had a heart attack and for all I know you've got cancer of the toe jam. Plus which you don't know nothin' about women."

Hoss: "I know all there is to know, Feelgood. Women are like Pet Rocks that you can kiss."

Feelgood: "Hoss, Hoss, Hoss, you are one log short of a load. See, you are sick. You probably ain't going to last more than a few more days weeks fortnights. And then that poor lady goin' to plant you like a tater. Don't you feel the least bit sorry for her?"

Hoss: "I don't get it, Feelgood. Why are you raining on my parade?"

Feelgood: "Well, I seen her picture, and I thought maybe she'd like a man that has more body parts than you."

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My favorite word today is woman. N., can't live with/without them. Def.: What replaced the human hand.

What It's Like to Be Like Old Cheese

Time may be a great healer, but it's also a lousy beautician.

The best way to forget all your troubles is to wear tight shoes.

Old age is when you still have something on the ball but you are too tired to bounce it.

Brain cells come and brain cells go, but fat cells live forever.

The nice part about living in a small town is, if I forget why I'm doing somebody else will tell me.

Age doesn't always bring wisdom. Sometimes age comes alone.

Just when I was getting used to yesterday, along came today.

I don't mind the rat race, but I could use a little more cheese.

Amazing! You hang something in your closet for awhile and it shrinks two sizes.

Age is immportant only if you're a cheese.

The only time a woman wishes she were a year older is when she's having a baby.

Freedom of the press means no-iron clothes.

Inside some of us is a thin person struggling to get out; he can be sedated with a few bites of chocolate cake.

Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it.

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My favorite word today is consciousness. N., awaken to me. Def.: What happens when you think you are beginning to understand everything.

Girls' Daytime Out

(Because of my changed cirumstances, posting will be hit/miss for awhile. Sorry about that, Chief.)

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I have not totally given up on the idea of amassing a harem. Here I am at lunch with two of the finer candidates, Margaret (left) and Kristy.

It is great to get together with other b**ggers because they always teach you something. This time it was Margaret who suggested that anyone who is a parent of a 12-year-old will soon learn this: That the rolling of the eyes means "How did Mom ever get so stupid?" Margaret has had two 12-year-olds, and since has smartened up some.

Kristy is looking for work. She can do anything. Unfortunately, "Anything" is not a job title. But Kristy is bright as a penny, so not to worry.

On Aug. 22 I go to see Harem Candidate No. 3, who is Vicki Bennett of Outside In. I am catching Vicki at a bad time, since she is just moving into new digs in Chicago. Vicki is a princess who gave up her job, subordinating herself to her husband's new employment. Thus, the new carpet better be as advertised.

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Here's a picture of the New Hoss. I am at Oysterville, WA, buying -- what else? -- oysters. Quick: Say three times promptly -- "A noise annoys an oyster." She shells she shells at the she shore.

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My favorite word today is stolen. N., can you lift this? Def.: Differently acquired.

She Is My Sunshine

Okay, some of you asked, so here's her picture. Damn Darn good lookin', huh? (The girlfriend says "darn" works just as good as "damn," and you don't have to put up with a lot of bullshit bullshit.)

Her name is "My Third Wife." This is true. I am not going to give you chapter and verse about the other nine or ten. Suffice it It is sufficient to say that she contacted me by email and I asked if I could see her. The rest is history historical. No learning curve.

Okay, that's plenty of background. We play kissy kissy just like young people (who probably think old people never have any sex fun). Her name, in truth, is "Scamp". That also would be a good name for a dog, I suppose, but we are putting off getting a dog until she moves. And then I move again.

Love is grand.

(You got any good dog names on you, lay them on me.)

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(She and I vastly appreciate all the kind comments of late. You people are the best.)

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An elderly gent (named Hoss, most probably) goes into the local drug store and asks the pharmacist for the little blue Viagra pill.

The pharmacist asked, "How many?" The oldster replies, "Just a few, maybe a half dozen. I cut each one into four pieces."

The pharmacist says, "That's too small a dose. That won't get you through sex."

The old feller says, "Oh, I'm past 80 years old, and I don't even think of sex much anymore. I just want it to stick out far enough so I don't pee on my new boots."

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My favorite word today is intellectual. N., brain surgeon. Someone who can listen to Rossini's "William Tell Overture" without thinking of the Lone Ranger. --Billy Connolly.

Upsetting the Old Apple Cart

Little did Ol' Hoss know that he was not immune to love. But this is just slick. I am a happy men. Happiest in the universe, probably.

So, anyway, my girlfriend likes to travel, so I will be going along, and posting here will be intermittent. Here it is Sunday, and The Man Who Never Posts on Sunday will now post on Sunday, because I can't be here again until Thursday.

This is a picture of a bell my girlfriend owns. It's simply an acetelene tank all dolled up. But you should hear the sound. Voila. Its name? King Gong.

(P.S. My girlfriend is prettier than me, if you can imagine.)

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So this guy is traveling in the country and comes across a farmer out with his livestock. And he says to the farmer, "If I can tell you how many cows and calves you have, can I have a calf?" The farmer, knowing this is not possible, agrees.

The man says, "You have exactly 1,586 cows and calves."

The farmer says, "That's right, so I guess you can have one of my calves."

He watches the young man select an animal and put it in the trunk of his car. Then he says to the young man, "Listen, if I can tell you what you do for a living, will you give me back my calf?" The young man thinks for a moment, then says, "Sure, why not?"

"You're a Congressman for the U.S. Government," the farmer says.

"Wow," says the man. "That's correct. But how did you figure it out?"

"No guessing was required," the farmer says. "You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked. You tried to show how much smarter you are than me, and you don't know a thing about cows."

"Now, give me back my dog."

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My favorite word today is girlfriend. N., how sweet she is. Def.: Did you know I can still kiss pretty good?

Short Shrift Saturday #35

Did you ever wonder why a feller who is pretty good does not get that many hits? I wonder this about my buddy Simunation, or Plutos, or Bubblemans. This guy does an original drawing (right-handed, or left-handed; makes no diff to him) almost every day. Of which this is one.

Now, Sim has branched out: His original drawing for a piece by Tisha Sharp about her relationship with the infamous Buford (make that "Hands-On" Buford) shows how things could come to a messy ending (for Buford). Anyway, go give him a look-see. And go see Tisha, too.

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During these serious times, people of all faiths should remember these four religious truths:

1. Muslims do not recognize Jews as God's chosen people.

2. Jews do not recognize Christ as the messiah.

3. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the leader of the Christian world.

4. Mormons do not recognize each other at Hooters.

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My favorite word today is word. N., a thing in the dictionary. Def.: What replaced "right on."

And You Said It Couldn't Be Done

Anyone with a lick of sense who has been reading this b**g for any period of time knows about my campaign to reincarnate as something or other so I can keep on keepin' on. (Nobody will ever come back as Patrick Henry; he already admitted he had only one life.)

The cartoon section of my newspaper had this definition: "Reincarnation, rebirth in one or more existences, is an important tenet of some religions and belief systems. Most forms include a central personality which grows from new experiences in successive incarnations..." So, I guess I could be Ramses II and then come back as Ramses III, IV, and on up the Gregorian chant calendar.

Here's what the cartoon said:

Frank: "There's a fascinating article here -- you know, the idea of coming back again and again in different forms."

Ernest: "Wow! What do you think you'll come back as, Frank?"

Frank: "With my luck, I'll come back as a campaign promise and be gone again two months later."

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You don't like yodellers, you say? I call bullshit. I ran across an 11-year-old girl doing the yodel on Metacafe that caused me to tear all up. Crying-wise, you know. Check this child at this here place.

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Husband: "Are you ready yet?"

Wife: "For crying out loud, I've been telling you for the last half-hour I'll be ready in a minute."

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My favorite word today is kindly. N., what Big Ernie is. Def.: Opening your girl friend's beer and only taking one slug.

The Winner and Still Champion Is....

Y'all remember this picture? Several days ago I invited you great caption writers to write some great captions. And so you did, for a prize of my choosing.

Everybody did good, but Carolyn did the best, with this, according to the sole judge, Feelgood Haines:

"Dear God, please don't let Mom find the frog I hid under the bed."

"Dear God, please don't let me vomit up the frog I just ate from under the bed."

So ho ho har de har har. And so on.

Carolyn, who writes as "crazedmomof 3," will now receive this swell sweatshirt, on account she has entrusted me with her address.

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So, this guy named Wayne is a painter, and a sly one at that. He discovered that he can make his paint go farther by thinning it with turpentine. And he thinned it a lot.

One day he got a contract from the First Baptist Church to paint their huge edifice. So he got out his scaffolding and began painting away. When he got near the end of the job, there was a horrendous clap of thunder, the sky opened and the rain poured down. It washed the thinned paint from the church and Wayne slipped to the ground, surrounded by telltale puddles of the thinned and useless paint.

Wayne is no fool. He got on his knees and cried out: "Dear God, forgive me! What should I do?"

And from the thunder, a mighty voice rang out: "Repaint! And thin no more!"

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My favorite word today is silence. N., the sound of. Def.: Another way of continuing the argument.

Living It Up

Many of you (one) have (has?) expressed interest in the fact that I moved out of The Old Folks Home. Here is the list of things that went wrong:

Maude Frickert died. She was the last person to love Bing Crosby.
Gravy is fattening.
Feelgood Haines got on my nerves.
My buddy Feelgood Haines has moved into my new place, too.
The new administrator is a Hawaiian. You ever hear somebody speak pidgin Hawaiian? No? She didn't either.
They finally washed the windows. I could see I was living in a swamp.
They wanted more money than I was willing to give. Ipso facto...

Here is where I live now. The door to my apartment (lower level, center) is partially hidden by the stairs to the neighbor lady's place. She has a friendly dog, one of those things that is not a chihuahua or a weenie dog. Earnest terrier?


This is where I sit. You can see I am reading Vicki's b**g, on accounta it is so perky. This is a mess, but I know where everything is, so up yours. Over to the left is my new scanner-printer-copier-fax. Most of it works.

Here's a picture of part of my living room. It is pretty boring. So am I. If you fart in a forest, and there's no one there to hear it, does it still smell?

This is my swell kitchen. Shown: My new coffee pot. Not shown: My new espresso maker. I cooked this morning for the first time in four years: eggs and toast. I am so clever. Also pretty, in case you have forgotten. Tonight: Red beans and rice.

This is a water color whipped up by my new girlfriend. I cannot tell you much about her, for she is shy. Just know that Ol' Hoss is supremely happy with this development. Oh, I can tell you this: She is VERY pretty.

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My favorite word today is gargle. N., how Lister got rich. Def.: The reason you put a mirror on your bathroom ceiling -- so you can watch yourself in action.

My Sis and Rabbits and.....I'm Thinking....

It is with great pleasure that I tell you the winner of the Perfect Post award for July is none other than My Sister. Sure, you say, keep it in the family. Nepotism. Boo hoo. Well, the truth is, this isn't my real sister; this is my b**g sister -- Nathalie Tan Lucy Pez. Mother of all Pezes, of which there are plenty.

On about July 10 Ms. Tan Lucy wrote about taking a little trip to the restroom. Ho ho har de har har. There is no such thing as "a little trip." Go read this jewel at Tan Lucy's Place.

These awards are made possible by Momma K and Lucinda. I love 'em to pieces. If you go to Momma's place you can see/visit all the winners.

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Rabbit! Rabbit!

Lookie here. Junior is about to take off, with ears akimbo. (Or whatever ears do.)

You know the drill: You say Rabbit! Rabbit! at the first of the month and you will have good luck all month long. Works for me, no kidding....

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Hilary gets elected President and is spending her first night in the White House. She has waited so long... And suddenly the ghost of George Washington appears.

She says, "How can I serve my country?"

George says, "Never tell a lie."

Hilary: "Ouch. I didn't know about that."

The next night, the ghost of Thomas Jefferson appears.

Hilary asks, "How can I best serve my country?"

Jefferson says, "Listen to the people."

Hilary: "Ooooh. That doesn't sound good."

On the third night, the ghost of Abe Lincoln appears.

Hilary asks: "How best can I serve my country?"

Abe: "Go to the theater."

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My favorite word today is monogamy. N., a word little known in Utah. Def.: The marriage of one man and one woman and just a few mistresses.