Today, I Am Over With the Dude

I have mentioned previously that I have a "girlie" side -- I have needlepointed, braided a rug, hooked a rug, did all the cooking. But this picture over to the left is not me.

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I am here only briefly today. I am guest posting for the MuzikDude. My post over there will arrive at 1 p.m. Pacific Time today (2/13). If you want to see it, click here after that time. Or, type www.muzikdude.com in your browser window.

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What do you know about a 150-pound man who has 75-pound testicles? That he's half nuts.

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My favorite word today is psychoanalyst. N., Dr. Psycho, to you. Def.: A person who lets you convince yourself that you are, indeed, totally uninteresting.

Short Shrift Sunday #14

Several days ago I was talking to my buddy Tisha, a physical therapist who was injured in the line of duty. I asked if her husband and daughter were now doing the cooking.

"No," she said. "They did volunteer to phone to have the pizza brought in."

But Tisha had to look up the number.

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The bride-to-be and her best friend are discussing the wedding. The friend says, "If you want an unforgettable wedding night, get him to eat a dozen oysters after the ceremony."

A week later, the friend asked how things went. "Pretty good," said the bride, "but only eight of them worked."

(A thank-you to my new Aussie buddy, Peskie.)

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My favorite word today is desperation. Adj., help me, God. Def.: Descriptive of the stricken look on the face of a husband who has just been asked, "Do I look fat in this?"

Short Shrift Saturday #14

Lent is coming up. And that means "What are you GIVING UP?" Here are some candidates:

Smoking. Drinking. Carousing. Putting the move on your cousin. Krispy Kremes. Double caramel marshmallow lattes. Chocolate-dipped Dung Beetles.

Listen. Here is what I have already given up for Lent: One appendix, one prostate. One (two?) tonsils. But I am not done. If anybody needs 'em, here's what I got left to give up for Lent and it wouldn't hurt a bit:

1. Spleen
2. Gall bladder
3. Kidney
4. Eye (but don't take my good one)
5. Arm and/or leg (depends on price of gas)
6. Lincoln Logs

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My favorite phrase today is "oh, well." Adv., sigh of passiveness. Def.: What the person says who has just loaded 13 items on the "10-items-limit" conveyor.

Gifts From My Pals

My b**gosphere buddies just can't help themselves. They are all the time dousing me with funny stuff. Why, just the other day, my buddy Bill Gates said....oh, ok, Bill..wink wink......Why, just the other day, my buddy whose name will remain my secret*** was telling me:

"She married and had 13 children. Her husband died. She married again, and had 7 more children. And, again, her husband died. So she remarried, and had 5 more children. Alas, she finally died.

"At the service, the preacher thanked the Lord for this loving woman, saying, 'Lord, they're finally together.'

"A mourner quietly asked her friend: 'Do you think he means her first, second, or third husband?'

"The friend says: 'I think he means her legs.'

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A newlywed couple is in bed early in the morning, and both want coffee. The bridegroom says, "I guess you'll have to make it. The woman does the cooking." And she says, "No, in the Bible it says the man has to make the coffee."

He says, "No way."

She says: "Way. Look it up. The Bible says Hebrews."*

(*A nice little missive from my buddy Motor Home Lucy.)

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***Tan Lucy Pez (Sorry to blow your cover.)

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My favorite phrase today is It's a mystery. Adj., or an enigma. Def.: Why do they put those little dents in the top of a soda cracker?

It's Like a Refresher Course

Just when you thought I was running out of topics to write about, I didn't. No, see, our local newspaper has a special section for "Seniors," of which I am one at 75 131/365ths. This section is an excuse to get businesses serving old people to take out ads.

Anyway, there is this story, "Working Out the Brain," which says, essentially, you can help waylay Alzheimer's if you keep your noggin in shape. And if that doesn't work, right below this story is an ad for Virgil T. Golden Funeral Services.

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I stumbled across a site that promotes the 50 Most Loathsome People in the U.S. Know who's No. 4? "You" are, for your participation in destruction of the planet. (I don't think they meant me, though, just you.)

Dubya is NOT Number 1. No, he is a lowly No. 3, right behind Dick Cheney. Number 1? Good ol' Pat Robertson:

"If Pat Robertson's local Starbuck's caught fire, he would claim that God was punishing them for giving him a caramel latte when he ordered vanilla."

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I stumbled across a site that lets you know how popular you are in the B**gosphere. At Ego Surf you enter your b**g's name, and your URL and click a button. It tells you how many "ego points" you have, which seems based on links or mentions, or something. Word of warning: Some of you are going to get 0 because this site is perverse like that.

But not Ol' Hoss. Ol' Hoss racked up 10,641 points, which puts him as 8th best egotist. I just love me to pieces.

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I think this is from my pal Ozguru:

A man and his wife are sitting in the living room, watching television.

The man says, "You know, if it ever comes to it, I don't want to live in a vegetative state, depending on a machine and getting my liquids from a bottle."

The wife gets up, turns off the TV and throws out his beer.

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My favorite phrase today is washed up. Adj., put out to pasture. Def.: How you feel when you realize you won't get the laundry done today -- again.

A Sure-Fire Way to Get Rich

People who have visited me, Ol' Hoss, for awhile know how much I need money. Oh, I've got enough to pay for the thin gruel they serve here at the Old Wizened People's Home. And in fact, I got enough to buy me some Tennessee sippin' whiskey now and then, too. (I feel sorry for you bozos who can't afford sippin' whiskey. You'll never get to enjoy recovering from a hangover.)

Anyway, what I need is several bazillion dollars so I can:

A. Be cryogenicized, or
B. Be mummified and buried in the Valley of the Kings, or
C. Be cremated and have my ashes rocketed to Deneb or Polaris so's you can continue to look up to me, or
D. Be reincarnated.

I am somewhat leaning toward A., because then I would have plenty of ice to put in my sippin' whiskey. On the other hand, D. has good potential. I could come back as a dung beetle, for instance, and never go hungry. I could come back as a rabbit, and you don't have to guess why. I could come back as Humphrey Bogart because I have committed to memory his two most famous lines: "Play it, Sam," and "Here's looking at you, kid." I could get me a cigarette, get all squinty-eyed and go on a stage tour if I came back as Humphrey.

Now, as to the money. Well, I finally have it all figured out. I have just printed up some business cards identifying Ol' Hoss's Endorsements Company. Listen, there is millions in this, maybe bazillions. And I am going for it all right out of the box.

Here it is: What do you suppose the Trojan prophylactic people will pay me if I can get their rubbers endorsed by the Pope? Huh? Ain't that wild?

If anybody can get this done, it is Ol' Hoss. So I will be traveling to the Vatican tomorrow to make my case. I will tell Benedict I am willing to split 50/50.

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My favorite word today is satisfaction. Adj., let's get smug. Def.: Knowing that all those young people descending on Ft. Lauderdale will soon be in debt up to their ears.

I Knew the Guru

You may not have heard of the great times we had in Oregon back in the early 1980s. A guru from India and the American sheep he regularly sheared set up shop on a big ranch in Eastern Oregon and called it Rajneeshpuram. Oregonians were naturally suspicious of all the “oooing and ohming.” Especially when it turned out to be sort of a haven for free love, which was too much like San Francisco for our taste. (We were used to paying for it.)

And then it turned out that the head cheese, “the Bhagwan,” was REALLY adept at shearing the flock. At the height of his rule he HAD BEEN GIVEN 32 Cadillacs, mostly by people with Hollywood connections who were smitten by his meditatiousness. And each day he would mount up and drive among the flock, smiling enigmatically and waving one bony arm. It was during the time he had a vow of silence going, which led to trouble right there in River City.

He had this moll, Sheela, a really good lookin’ guruite who first served as his hatchet-person and then slowly took over the whole shebang. Sheela and a bunch of her followers started dressing in red; she set off her costume with a pistol worn on her hip.

She got the tribe mixed up in politics, first taking over the nearest city, and then trying to elect some of their butt-cracks to the Board of County Commissioners. They put out the word that anybody in the U.S. who was homeless could move to Rajneeshpuram, and register to vote. And then to cut down on the number of “regular” voters, the clan spiked salad bars in the largest city with salmonella, sickening dozens of people.

(Sometime during this mish-mash I had a sit-down with the Bhagwan. I said, "How can life be improved?" And he said: "A fragrant leaf of the spreading chestnut will be dead meat in the fall." So I have lived my life according to this precept.)

When these shenanigans were investigated by the U.S. attorney for Oregon, the Rajneesh inner circle hatched a plot to kill him. Scientists said this was “too bad,” and somebody would have to go to jail. And rafts of the “sannysins” did, for assault, attempted murder, immigration conspiracy, arranging sham marriages, arson, burglary, electronic eavesdropping, perjury and harboring a fugitive.

The Bhagwan made a run for it but was caught in North Carolina. He eventually was deported to India, where he had a minor resurgence before dying. And it turned out he wasn’t really a bad guy; he seems responsible for what they call, in India, “meditation tourism.” In Oregon, we contemplate our navels. We haven’t found any tourists who want to watch us.

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My favorite word today is stall. V., after you; no, after you. Def.: The way into the hotel is blocked by two Alphonse-Gaston types waiting for the other to be first to enter the revolving door.

Joe Can Get It for You Wholesale

FOR SALE OR RENT: Congressman Joe Schneid. 8-term congressman with powerful committee slots (Appropriations, Agriculture, Defense). Log-rolling specialist. Adept at placing your needs well up on the Christmas tree. Past successes include $500,000 grant for study of porn’s effect on the porn industry; $6 million for takeover of unfunded pension liability of Bubba Bob’s Auto Wrecking; $1.1 billion to cover lawsuits against defense contractors who failed to armor armored vehicles; $400 million subsidy of tobacco farmers; $400 million for medical costs of smokers; $14 million for sponsorship of Iowa State Ear Wig Races. Available by the hour or by the project. No job too small because that’s The American Way. PH: 202-555-4444.

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A college teacher reminds her class of tomorrow’s final exam.

“Now, class, I won’t tolerate any excuses for you not being here tomorrow. I might consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury or illness, or a death in your immediate family. But that’s it: No other excuses whatsoever,” she says.

The smart ass in the back of the room asks, “What would you say if I said I was suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion?”

“Well, then,” says the teacher, “I guess you’d have to write the exam with your other hand.”

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A truck driver comes upon a sign saying “Low Bridge Ahead.” Well, it certainly was, and his trailer got stuck.

A police officer arrives and says, to belabor the obvious, “Got stuck, huh?”

“No,” said the trucker. “I was delivering this bridge and ran out of gas.”

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My favorite word today is oblivious. Adj., I know you’ll be fascinated.. Def.: Descriptive of the gentleman who thinks you need to know everything about his recently successful bowel movement.

Short Shrift Sunday #13

Shaun Alexander of the Seattle Seahawks lunges for the goal line! He scores! Will he spike the football???

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In case Mr. Anonymous is too embarrassed to ask, here's how you get rid of toe fungus: Apply Vicks Vaporub twice a day for a week. Honestly and truly. My nurse/pedicurist swears by it. Those pills you're swallowing take a year to work, and they only cure the fungi in 50 percent of the cases.

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Let's get rid of the rest of my Hillary stuff:

"In Hillary Clinton's new book, 'Living History,' Hillary details what it was like meeting Bill Clinton, falling in love with him, getting married, and living a passionate, wonderful life as husband and wife. Then, on Page 2, the trouble starts." --Jay Leno.

"Hillary Clinton, our junior senator from New York, announced that she has no intentions of ever, ever running for the office of President of the United States. Her husband, Bill Clinton, is bitterly disappointed. He is crushed. There go his dreams of becoming a two-impeachment family." --David Letterman.

"Last night, Senator Hillary Clinton hosted her first party in her new home in Washington. People said it was a lot like the parties she used to host at the White House. In fact, even the furniture was the same." --Jay Leno.

"In the book she says when Bill told her he was having an affair, she said, 'I could hardly breathe; I was gulping for air.' No, I'm sorry, that's what Monica said." --David Letterman.

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My favorite word today is unique. Adj., get a load of this! Def.: Descriptive of the one person who knows how to correctly refold a road map.

Short Shrift Saturday #13

Okay, a couple things first:

1. Somebody named "Anonymous" says in comments on my site that he/she has a toe fungus problem. Whoever you are, email me and I will give you the cure.

2. I could not get into all the b**g sites I tried yesterday. Computer/Blogger problem? And in some cases I could not comment (blocked for some reason). But I did try to reach ALL 112 of you...

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Hillary Clinton and her driver were cruising along a country road one evening when an old cow loomed in front of the car. The driver tried to avoid it, but couldn't -- and the old cow was killed.

Hillary told her driver to go up to the farmhouse and explain to the owners what happened. She stayed in the car making phone calls to lobbyists. About an hour later, the driver staggered back to the car with his clothes in disarray. He was holding a half-empty bottle of expensive wine in one hand, an expensive Cuban cigar in the other. He was smiling happily and was smeared with lipstick.

"What happened?" Hillary asked.

"Well," the driver replied, "the farmer gave me the cigar, his wife gave me the wine, and their beautiful daughters made mad passionate love to me."

"My goodness," said Hillary. "What did you tell them?"

"I told them I'm Hillary's driver, and I just killed the old cow."*

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My favorite word today is lies. N., do as I say, not as I do. Def.: Books and magazines with titles such as "Lose Weight the Easy Way."

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(*This epistle courtesy of my Aussie bud, Oz.)

Life's Guilty Pleasures

My buddy Carolyn has laid a meme on Ol' Hoss. She couldn't a picked a better person, for I am death on memes. In this one, I am supposed to tell you of "five guilty pleasures." I can rattle off five of the orgiastics without slowin' for breath.

1. Athlete's Foot Medicine. Nothing spells relief better than Lamisil. But I don't waste time spreading it between my toes. I just slather my sheets with it, just in case I am getting athlete's foot of the buttcrack.

2. Freezing Rain. What you do is you check out the cars coming down the hill near my Old Folks' Home and watch 'em slide into each other. Some of those bozos are such bad drivers they'd not be safe in a Red Flyer. God it's funny watching these people get hauled off to the hospital.

3. Getting Rid of a Hangover. I don't feel guilty about drinkin'. I know I shouldn't drink. But I do it anyway because it feels so good when the hangover goes away and I can have a few more drinks.

4. Making My Pile. This is a borderline guilty pleasure, on grounds that I haven't yet Made My Pile. But when I do I probably will be somewhat ashamed that you bozos won't get any of it. And I will laugh and laugh.

5. Lying. I read and comment on more than 100 b**gs every day. And I tell you cheery things and hand out compliments. In fact, though, all your stuff is pretty lame.*

(*There I go again, lying. It's such a pleasure.)

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My favorite phrase today is ne'er do well. N., "the poor shall always be with us." Def.: The student who changes his major field of study from "accordion" to "mime."

I Went Back to Connecticut

I was reading some old Chinese Internet manuals, and this picture cropped up under a chapter titled "Confucious Says."

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I am not here again today, as I am subbing once again for my swell pal, Whizzer, who left the unpleasant climes of Connecticut for a cruise somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. She told me to tell you all I know about Zen*:

"Do not walk with me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me, either. Just pretty much leave me the hell alone."

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and a leaky tire."

"He who laughs last thinks slowest."

(*The Zenster really is my pal Dalene.)

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My favorite word today is SMV. N., we're going to be very late. Def.: The triangular sign on the back of a tractor which you are following and which can only operate on two-lane roads with plenty of curves.

What's With All the Rabbits?

The Internet Pez family (examples: Tan Lucy Pez, dddragon, Aral and Acton Bell Pez) on the first of every month write a b**g piece often headlined "Rabbit! Rabbit!". And often they will show a new picture of one or more rabbits. Through the device of having my own b**g I am going to pester them until they explain why this is. I think it's called "lagomania," which is Bugs Bunny-speak for "What's up, Doc?"

Now then, Tan Lucy Pez told me this action over to the left is how Easter eggs are made. But I think I'm entitled to confirmation from the rest of the Pez Gang, don't you? Lucy is the mother of this clan, and you know how us old people start forgetting...

And then she says that this monstrosity is one of the smaller rabbits in her Pennsylvania herd. Man, I bet when the coupling starts up you can hear it all the way to Intercourse.

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The world is supposed to end tomorrow. Thank God. I'll finally get off "Hold" with the tech help in India.

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"I believe my music is the healin' music....It regenerates the ears, makes the liver quiver, the bladder splatter and the knees freeze. I'm not conceited, either." -- Little Richard.

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My favorite phrase today is Hawaiian shirt. N., colors loud and louder. Def.: The thing you bought on vacation so you'd have something for Goodwill the next time they call.

Doing Good, and Building a Garden

Please help.

I don't often do this, so when I do you will please listen up. Today (1/31) my buddy, Vicki, is giving a shout-out to her brother-in-law, Bill, and his Civil Affairs Brigade over in Iraq. This outfit rebuilds hospitals and schools.

No matter what you think of the "war," please click on Vicki's name above, and go over to her comments section and wish Bill and his buddies good luck.

(Lurkers: I never asked before, but I am now. Okay?)

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Now, back to your regularly scheduled plan for reconstruction:

According to philatelists, numismatists, anthropologists, sociologists, dream weavers and biblioteques, stamps and coins were not in play by the time the Garden of Eden was invented. Also, Bibles were invented later.

The important thing is that the Garden of Eden was located in Iraq, somewhere around the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. And there you have the reason that we have the Detroit Tigrises in baseball. No team was ever named the Detroit Euphrates.

So, okay, the Garden of Eden was invented so we could have snakes in all parts of the world except Ireland, New Zealand and the Antarctic. And so that we could have a guy named Johnny Appleseed going around promoting crab apples. ("Man who fish in other man's well often catch crabs.") And a fish named "Wanda."

Now, then, think about this as an end to the WAR: Whomever is elected as the big-wig in the Iraqi Parliament says: "Whoa back. The big money is not in oil. It's in TOURISM!! All we gotta do is reinvent the Garden of Eden. It's a piece of cake; an apple tree, some figs, bare boobies (Wanda?) and a boa contrictor or two, and we're in business. Oh, we might need an Adam's Ribs restaurant, but, we'll see."

The guys (and molls) in Dubya's camp will be over there like ants on jam to experience this experience. AND THEN WE WILL BE RID OF THE BOZOS.

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My favorite word today is oaf. N., with half a loaf? Def.: One who thinks he can override a computer command by saying "Oh, no!"

I Am Out to Lunch in Connecticut

A b**gging friend of mine is writing a book. I offered to help out, since I am that kind of Hoss. I asked if she could use some "filler" or "bridge the gap" stuff, like this:

"He stood there riveted, like a pair of 501 Levis. He could see that it wasn't going to work out between him and the school marm, for she had way too much furniture for one pack horse. The camera zoomed in tight as he let go of a tear -- but only from one eye! 'Hmmm,' opined the school marm, 'he only cares half as much for me as I thought.' She curtsied in her corset and made plans to tear out his tear ducts. The cowboy said 'Get along, Paint,' and he rode into the sunspot."

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I am not here today. I am subbing for my buddy Whizzer, who lives in snowbound Connecticut but is on a cruise to Cozumel or some place like that. I think she plans to go to the Mayan city that was named backward, Chichen Itza. Obviously they meant: Itza Chicken, because odds are they were Italians. Itza squash; Itza maize; Itza pizza, like a big piece of pie Itz amore'.

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My favorite word today is later. Adj., can it wait? Def.: Descriptive of a person who always has a "Things To Do" list but never does any of them.

Short Shrift Sunday #12

An elderly couple are having dinner at a restaurant and the husband leans over to the wife: "Do you remember the first time we made love together over 50 years ago? We went behind this very restaurant where you leaned against the back fence. I think we should do it again, for old time's sake."

"Oh, Charlie, you devil," she says. "Let's do it."

A police officer is sitting in the next booth and overhears this plan. He decides he better go out and keep an eye on them for their safety.

Outside, the old lady leans against the fence, and the old man moves in. Suddenly they erupt into the most furious action the cop has ever seen. This goes on for about 10 minutes before they collapse to the ground.

Finally they struggle to their feet, and meet the cop on their way back to the restaurant. The cop says, "You must have had a fantastic life together. Is there some secret to all this activity?"

Charlie says, "Yes. Fifty years ago that wasn't an electric fence."

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My favorite word today is backtrack. Adj., seek and ye shall find. Def.: An inspection tag in a new article of clothing is traced to a 12-year-old in Malaysia.

Short Shrift Saturday #12

Sometimes I feel like I am fighting the battle against buttcrack all by myself.

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An old guy had an appointment to see the urologist. As he approached the reception desk he saw that the woman there was large, unfriendly, and resembled a Sumo wrestler. He gave her his name.

"YES," in a very loud voice, "YOU WANT TO SEE THE DOCTOR ABOUT IMPOTENCE, RIGHT?"

All the patients in the waiting room snapped their heads around to look at the embarrassed man. He recovered quickly, though, and in an equally loud voice, said:

"NO, I'VE COME TO INQUIRE ABOUT A SEX CHANGE OPERATION. BUT I DON'T WANT THE SAME DOCTOR THAT DID YOURS."

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"Our parents were very strict. They didn't want us to grow up spoiled and rich. If we left our tennis rackets out in the rain, we were punished." -- Nancy Ellis, George H.W. Bush's sister.

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My favorite word today is consciousness. Adj., I think, therefore I am. Def.: Wasting time between naps.

Just a Giggle and a Chuckle Will Be Fine

Cleaning up the inbox:

A police recruit is asked during his examination:

"What would you do if you had to arrest your mother-in-law?"

"Call for backup."

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Why are lawyers prohibited from having sex with their clients?

To prevent clients from being billed twice for what is essentially the same service.

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What is black and brown and looks good on a lawyer? A Doberman.

(These missives are from my buddy Oz).

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The new guy in the cellblock is feeling pretty lousy. Then he hears somebody yell out, "41!" And everybody else in the block laughs uproariously. Somebody else says "28!" More laughs.

New guys asks his cellmate, "What's going on?" Cellmate says, "We don't hear any new jokes in here, so we just tell the same ones over and over. Every joke has a number, so we don't have to listen to the same tired old words."

So new guy thinks this is pretty neat. He calls out a number at random: "14!" Nobody laughs. He says, "39!" Not a peep.

The cellmate takes him aside and says, "Look, kid. It's not so much the joke. It's the way you tell it that makes it funny."

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A guy walks into a psychiatrist's office wearing only Saran wrap for shorts. The doc says, "Well, I can clearly see you're nuts."

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My favorite word today is teenager. N., zits and all. Def.: A person who knows more than you do.

Making Money the 'Easy' Way

I haven't had a good Pile Making idea for quite awhile. Until now. (For those of you unaccustomed to the ways and wiles of Ol' Horsetail Snake, I need to Make My Pile of big bucks so I afford to have my ashes sent to Mars or Pluto, where they will be properly venerated.)

So, Google tells me there is Big Bucks in the insurance racket. And Ol' Hoss knows what's what about insurance, having watched a lot of crime movies. So I go down to the hardware store with my Louisville Slugger and take it in the backroom where the king is in his counting house, counting out his money.

I say, "You need some insurance against getting kneecapped."

He says, "No I don't."

So I let him have it right across the left knee. My bat shatters as it hits his prosthetic kneecap. "Let that be a lesson to you," I said, without conviction.

He says, "Yes. Now, excuse me." He picks up the phone, dials, and says, "Mr. Soprano, there is a gentleman here trying to sell me some insurance." To me: "Mr. Soprano wants to know your name."

"George W. Bush!" I say. I'm not sure he caught all that, as I was moving pretty fast by the time I got to the front door.

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So I amble down to the laundry, pull out my pistol and say: "Buy my insurance, and be quick about it."

The first laundress says, "Que?" (Damn, a Mexican.)
The second says, "Vilken?" (Crap, a Swede.)
The third says, "Eh?" (Phooey, a Canadian.)

"Doesn't anybody here speak American?" I shove my pistola in my pocket and go home. Maybe I'll ask Yahoo next time.

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My favorite phrase today is deep space. N., my arm is not long enough. Def.: The area between the front seat and the back seat that is too wide to enable you to slap the children without stopping the car.

Stream of Unconsciousness

Have you ever just sat down at your computer and said to yourself: "I will just start typing, and see if something good happens"? Of course you have, because in an emergency you have this thing on your keyboard that says "Delete". Let's see:

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"Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen." --John Steinbeck. (Cartoon stolen from Jude.)

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"Is it true my father won't get into heaven if he uses his bowling words in the house?" Lucy provided this one.

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In Salem, Oregon, the coach of the West Salem girls' basketball team said, "We knocked down a good percentage of our shots, especially in the first half. We found the open man."

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A baseball player says to his coach as the National Anthem is playing: "Ah, hell, every time I hear that song I have a bad game."

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"Why should we take sex advice from the Pope? If he knows anything about it, he shouldn't." --George Bernard Shaw

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My favorite word today is unsaleable. Adj., a waste of time. Def.: A group photograph in which the class clown slyly gives the photographer the finger.

The Easy Way Out: Do a Meme

When the brain goes dead, you can always steal somebody's idea for a meme. So it goes: I guess this one is titled "Four Things".

Four jobs I have had:
1. Trainer, Dung Beetle Racing Team
2. Adviser to my buddy Bill Gates
3. Terrorist, Fourth Grade, Reid School
4. Reporter, Feelgood Haines History Project

Four movies I would watch over and over:
1. Long Gone With the Wind and the Rain
2. Pshaw Shanks Mare Redemption
3. Wily Coyote Meets the Road Runner
4. Snow White and...uh...you know...the one about the midgets

Four favorite foods:
1. Escargot
2. Rocky Mountain Oysters
3. Vienna sausage and Spam rollups
4. Hair of the dog

Four places I have lived:
1. Alamo, California
2. Alamo Rental Cars
3. Washington D & C
4. The Home on the Old Range

Four places I have been on vacation:
1. USA
2. Mexico
3. Canada
4. Mediterranean Avenue, Marvin Gardens, Water Works, Park Place, Broadway

Four web sites I visit daily:
1., 2., 3., 4. You see that b**groll over to the left? Yes, almost all of them, every day.

Four places I'd rather be:
1. With you
2. And you
3. And you
4. And you.

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My favorite word today is peeper. N., ready with the spyglass. Def.: A newborn chicken looking through your bedroom window.

Spreading Some Cheer

Susie, one of my b**gging pals, is the gifter of this badge of honor. Recently she asked her readers to go visit a couple of her buddies who are in trouble, medically. One is facing a bilateral masectomy today; the other is entering round five of chemotherapy in hope of someday getting a bone marrow transplant that will overcome leukemia.

Susie said, "People who have had serious surgeries....tell me it helps to have weird b**g people come and comment. Much love to you strange, lovely people who stop in here." And to all of us weird strangers who did her bidding, visiting her friends, she supplied this, which she appropriately calls "a Major Award."

(But I do need to tell Susie how to spell "b**gging.")

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"I dreamt death came the other night and Heaven's gate opened wide;

"With kindly grace an angel came and ushered me inside.

"And there to my astonishment stood folks I'd known on earth;

"Some I'd judged unfit; of little worth.

"Indignant words rose to my lips, but never were set free;

"For every face showed stunned surprise. Not one expected me!" - Anon.

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A lady is picking through the frozen turkeys at the supermarket, but can't find one large enough for her family. So she asked a stock boy, "Do these turkeys get any bigger?" "No ma'am," he says. "They're dead."

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My favorite word today is honor. Adj., on my word of. Def.: Where the lovestruck swain hoped to get with the belle of the ball.

Short Shrift Sunday #11

The title of this is 'Job Hell'. Now then, which one of these people has had you on hold the longest?

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Where does this stuff come from?

"It's not hard to meet expenses -- they're everywhere."

"My computer has the Oedipus Rex virus. It wants to marry the motherboard."

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A flight attendant was at the departure gate to check tickets. As a man approached, she extended her hand for his ticket. He opened his raincoat and flashed her.

She said, "Sir, I need to see your ticket, not your stub."

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My favorite phrase today is a prayer. N., he'p me, Ernie. Def.: In an athletic contest, what the huge underdog doesn't have.

Short Shrift Saturday #11

Let's see: We haven't discussed war and religion lately. How about this?

"There are no Bushes in foxholes."

Wait a minute. Dubya has two daughters of military age. I betcha anything he will be enlisting them in the U.S. Marines, anytime now. "WeYou all have to do our part," says George.

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It was the end of the school year, and the kindergarten teacher was receiving gifts from her pupils. The florist's son handed her a long box, and she said "I bet I know what it is. Some flowers?" "Right," said the boy. "How did you know?" "Just a wild guess," she said.

The daughter of the owner of a candy store produced a gift. The teacher shook it, and said, "I bet I know what this is. A box of sweets?" "That's right," said the girl, "but how did you know?" "It was a lucky guess," said the teacher.

The next gift came from a boy whose father owned the liquor store. The teacher held the package overhead -- and noticed it was leaking. She touched a drop with her finger, put it on her tongue, and asked the boy: "Is it wine?" "No," the boy replied. The teacher took up a larger drop and said, "Is it champagne?" "No," said the boy, with great excitement. The teacher sipped one more drop, and declared, "I give up. What is it?" "It's a puppy!!!"

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My favorite word today is Birkenstocks. N., say what? Def.: The only shoes never to become unfashionable because they were never fashionable.

A Story to Tell the Grandkids

"Hoss, have you heard about the new movie about the Alamo and Dan'l Boone?"

This is from my buddy, Feelgood Haines, the revisionist historian in our Old and Older Folks' Home. This morning, he jumped me even before I had my first cup of coffee, and I am a little testy.


Hoss: "Daniel Boone was not at the Alamo."

Feelgood: "That's why this movie is so good. It's mostly how he escaped being gunned down by old Santa Anna."

Hoss: "DANIEL BOONE WAS NOT AT THE ALAMO!"

Feelgood: "What ol' Dan'l did was grab up Jim Bowie's bowie knife and built hisself an escape tunnel beyond Santa Anna's lines. Jim hisself says, 'How you gonna get away without no horse?' And Dan'l says, 'Aw, pshaw, I'll go by shanks' mare. Big Ernie will provide.'"

Hoss: "What's the name of this so-called movie?"

Feelgood: "Why, I thought I told you. It's the Pshaw Shanks' Mare Redemption."

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Some of the top country-western songs of 2005:

"If I Can't Be Number 1 in Your Life, Then Number 2 on You"
"If the Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know It's Me"
"She Got the Ring and I Got the Finger"
"Her Teeth Were Stained But Her Heart Was Pure"
"If I Had Shot You When I First Wanted To, I'd Be Out of Prison By Now"

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My favorite word today is hot. Adj., Miss Playmate. Def.: What the coffee in a restaurant is when it's dumped in your lap; what the coffee is not when it's first served.

I Will Always Love Me

Remember way back when I told you Ol' Hoss was pretty? And then I posted my picture and you found out I lied?

Well, now I can say I'm "precious," and it's no damn lie. I got it in writing.

My pal Ronni Bennett, a champion of us old people, did a thingie on her site where she asked her readers to choose b**ggers from her b**groll and say something nice about them -- "a warm bear hug to others." Well, this was just an open invitation to my buddies to show you how precious I am (look here at my childhood ceramic look-a-like):

Complimenter No. 1: "Who can possibly keep up with your energy and sharpness of mind?"

Hoss: "Does this require an answer?"

Complimenter No. 2: "Great wit, humor, and snark, which I love."

Hoss: "Yadda ta yadda ta yadda ta. What the hell is 'snark'? 'Precious' is where I'm at."

Complimenter No. 3: "Gene [Ol' Hoss] is the funniest, most creative writer in the blogosphere today..."

Hoss: [Insert Precious Moments picture here. ("Precious Moments" picture, right, showing Hoss With B**g)]

Complimenter No. 4: "What a wit! He is like a medicine to others, bringing laughter and joy with him always."

Hoss: "You know what's really funny? When your computer goes down on you." (Ho ho har de har har. I should have been nominated for "Best Sex B**g.")

Complimenter No. 5: "Beyond precious and totally unique, this is a must-see site."

Hoss: "Precious?" Don't ask for a cuddle. I don't want any of this to rub off.

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My favorite phrase today is Back in the saddle again. Adj., you're thinking Gene Autry, right? Def.: Director's order to the leading man for the fourth take of a scene in a porno film.

Small Talk Saves the Day

What's "small talk"? It seems to be the ability to chit-chat with just about anyone, anytime, anyplace, about anything. "Small talkers" can mention the weather and almost at once morph the conversation into children, traffic jams, and sales on shoes. Some of you may think "small talkers" are just blathering. Not so.

The other day I am reading one of my regular b**ggers and ran across a long comment about "small talking" that is so good I want you to read it here. Ol' Hoss normally is not serious (abnormal would be a nice description), but just this once. This is from a woman I know only as Dalene.

"On behalf of all the small talkers of the world, myself included, it's like a smile, small talk. It is a means of connecting to those around you, a gentle means of putting people at ease. Plus, it gives the small talker a compass as to what is going on; we DO know a lot about what is going on. Also, you never know who you are standing next to, unless you engage in some sort of conversation, and sometimes it is a fascinating discovery.

"As a former journalist, it was an essential tool of the trade. In addition, it can provide the small talker with an effective means of changing a situation that everyone else knows needs to be changed but is not sure how to proceed.

"Example: I am standing in line at a mall clothing store for women, and a woman in front of me has with her a child who is obviously bored and cranky. All of us standing in line, and the clerk, can see the mother is growing ever angry with her child. I am watching the mother's jaws, which are clenched, and her hands, which are wrapped around the child's wrists way too tight.

"I am concerned what type of punishment this child might be in for once the mother and child get to the parking lot. So I engage her in small talk. I get her to laugh, I get her to relax. I have a child with me and in all that small talk I work in how it must be torture for a child to be dragged through an adult world; there is nothing fun for them.

"Why? Because I want her to find the empathy that may soften her anger towards her child. And I believe if I had confronted her directly, said the obvious, it would have simply made her more angry.

"I see small talk as an art, the ability to talk to anyone about anything, and it often leads to more meaningful conversations. (I just looked at the length of my comment, so I probably did not need to tell you which side of the fence I was on in regard to small talk. *Grin*. Okay, I am done.)"

Hoss says: And nicely done.

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My favorite word of the day is child. N., no, not Julia. Def.: Something that is nice to have hanging onto your neck.

Money-Making Scheme No. 302

My guess is that there's money to be made in the songwriting business. Well, you don't make any money writing songs, because anybody can do that: Rhyme June with moon and spoon 'n shit and you got a best seller. No, what I was thinkin' was the lawsuits you can get goin' when somebody rips your tune off the Internet.

Lots of people steal tunes they don't even like, just to be stealin'. What they're really after is those one-of-a-kind tunes that nobody else has got, so they can brag up the neighborhood. Well, let me tell you, I have wrote a lot of those one of a kind musicales. For instance, have you ever heard this one?:

"I Got Ahead of You on the Way to the Head, You Pinhead"

The thing to do is think of songs about subjects nobody else has thought of. I'm sure I have in me a nice song about honing knives:

"With my carborundum in me hand,
"I hone to beat the band.
"And when you see me on the phone,
"I'm called away from my old hone.
"It's a call from a bill collector named Bill,
"I told him come on over and watch me use my sharp knives to cut your arms off, Bill."

"Tra la la boomp-de-a
"Tra la la boomp-de-a, etc."

I got more good ones like that, but the way people steal off the Internet scares me. One of these days I'll see some bozo on the street with his boom box, playing a song that's still in my head.

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The pessimist: "The glass is half-empty."
The optimist: "The glass is half-full."
The engineer: "You got more glass than you need for the job."

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My favorite word today is finis. N., an incomplete word meaning "finish". Def.: When you see the cymbal player coming back from a smoke break, you know the tune the orchestra is playing is about to come to an end.

Showing My Colors

I have this buddy, Tom, who has written a piece about political issues. You can tap into it at his site, Born Fool. It was inspirational. That is, it has inspired me to do what he has done, which is tell you my take on political issues of importance.

I'm like that; I got opinions. I told Tom one of mine by writing in his comments section:

"Should our Congresspeople get involved in foreign relations, or should they be limited to screwing Americans?"

Of course Tom was being serious in his post. I don't have time for that. Here's my platform (which, of course, is biodegradable):

1. When lobbyists throw a party for politicians, require that the politicians be limited to one money bag per person or one 18-hole round at The Old Course, but not both.

2. Capital punishment should become more fun. To many people, this is no laughing matter, but I think they are just spoilsports.

3. Congress should pay attention to the environment. The problem is that environmentalists think this "paying attention" should be for free. Environmentalists have totally misunderstood The American Way: "Grease my palm or your palms will be wood chips tomorrow."

4. Congress should spend more time passing laws to prohibit people from becoming comatose. Then the congresswits won't have to call special sessions to save dead people.

5. Congress should pass a law saying that congresspeople will be in the first wave of soldiers called upon to fight a war. Any of them who flee to Canada will be replaced by their wives, wearing designer shoulder holsters.

6. The rule of "The Perfect Tax" will be adopted. This is the one that taxes everybody except me.

7. Potholes will be declared illegal. Traffic tickets will be declared unconstitutional. PMS will be outlawed. (And, for my special friend up in Washington State, dreadlocks will be declared a national disgrace.)

8. The National Motto will become "In Hoss We Trust."

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My favorite word today is puzzling. Adj., worse than a crossword. Def.: The instructions on how to play Keno from your room in a Las Vegas hotel.

Short Shrift Sunday No. 10

Ol' Hoss seldom asks you for anything. Oh, I've asked my buddy Bill Gates to put me in his will, but I've never asked for much from YOU. Until today.

There are these things called BoB (Best of B**g) awards. And two of my buddies are in the running. So here's what you do (and this includes you lurker bozos, too):

Go to Bob Awards and cast a ballot in the section for Best Overall B**g for my pal, John, The Sound of Muzik, and in the section for Most Inspirational Blog for my princess, Raehan, Agog and Aghast. Thankew.

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I spend about half 10 percent of my time campaigning against buttcrack, and it's like wading against the tide. You stomp out the custom in, say, Chicago, and it erupts in Nashville. I have written to Levi Strauss and Dickey and Lee, saying the term "lo-rider" was only meant for cars, not for trousers. My new motto: "Only asscracks show buttcrack."

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Listen: Don't say I was never good to you. I got this photo of Paris Hilton screwing by the pool. You click here to see this treasure. (You shouldn't be working today, but if you are, this is safe. Trust me. Hee hee.)

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My favorite phrase today is pig out. Vb., the bad cop is on lunch break. Def.: Going to the all-you-can-eat ribs restaurant only to be told they are out of ribs.

Short Shrift Saturday #10

"I speak plainly sometimes, but you've got to be mindful of the consequences of the words. So put that down. I don't know if you'd call that a confession, a regret, something." -- George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., Jan 10, 2005.

"It's clearly a budget. It's got a lot of numbers in it." -- Same guy.

But, hey, that's a lot clearer than what former Arizona Gov. Evan Mecham once had to say:

"I think today that a few remarks that I might make, we go back to the relationship in this great nation with the people who was the foundation of America, the people they've paid such a price that we may enjoy the blessings of enjoyment that we have, has been spoken this morning."

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As Billy Wilder may have said to the rapper: "You have Van Gogh's ear for music."

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"A blind man walks into a shop with a guide dog. He picks up the dog and starts swinging it around his head. A clerk calls out: "May I help you, sir?" The blind guy says, "No thanks, I'm just looking around." (--English magician Tommy Cooper.)

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My favorite word today is wretched. Adj., try, try again. Def.: Descriptive of your passport photo, regardless of the number of sittings you have.

Should I Sell My Dung Beetle Farm?

Some scientists back East are getting into dangerous territory. They are trying to make shit smell good, which would be a disaster for those of us who have dung beetle franchises.

To back up a little: It seems suburbia is overtaking the farms where all the dairies and hog farms and feedlots are located, and Joe Doe is peein' and moanin' about the smell of manure from the neighbors. So this outfit in Philadelphia named Monell Chemical Senses Center has developed a process that neutralizes the smell of cow and steer and pig shit.

Well, as you can imagine, this does not auger well for the dung beetles. They rely on their sense of smell to get where they're goin' so they can roll up the manure in little balls and take it home to Junior. This has long been the preferred method of ridding the African savannas of elephant doo-doo, and it works pretty good out here at Johanson's Dairy Farm and Manure Source. But if they quit making smelly manure, nobody will need no dung beetles to cart off their dung. And that would screw Ol' Hoss out of a tidy source of income, inasmuch as I am the sole proprietor of Dung Beetles 'R Us.

And this ain't the worst of it. What's going to become of one of our favorite phrases? You know, the one where we see a couple of lovers billin' and cooin' in the park, and somebody says, "They're holdin' onto each other tighter than stink on shit."

Damnation. A great ol' homily bites the dust.

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My favorite word today is advertisement. N., like the apple tempted Adam, and sorghum tempts the bees. Def.: A word coined to extol the virtues of things you don't need.

Do You Remember When I Was Funny?

Well, it's all over but the pouting. I did not become one of the 10 finalists for "Most Humorous B**g" in the BoB Awards program. Like many of you, I figured I was a shoo-in. I have written 341 posts, all of them funny. But, apparently, none of them was humorous.

The last time I was a contestant for anything, it was for the title of "Most Well-Adjusted Baby." Here is the picture that got me into the finals. BUT FOR SOME DAMN REASON I DID NOT WIN!!!

So I am used to being disappointed. I checked out the 10 finalists for Most Humorous B**g, and discovered the real reason I did not make the finals: 8 out of 10 of them used the "F" bomb in their writing. One writer uses it in every headline he writes. You might have noticed that I have given up on the Bomb because it has lost its shock value and it isn't really a very nice word. "Poo" is a nice word. So is "ka-ka". And when kids start flinging this stuff around it is pretty funny (but apparently not humorous). You see a lot of this on the Internet, if you read Mommy and Daddy B**gs. Some of which are instructive, and often funny, but obviously not humorous.

Even my damn cat is peeved that I didn't make the finals! Well, another reason I didn't make it is because I might have been perceived as a "professional b**gger." See, I get more than 30 comments and almost 200 visits EVERY DAY (vox populi). Of the 10 BoB finalists, only one topped that. So, the reason I didn't make the finals is BECAUSE I AM TOO DAMN POPULAR!!

I have been shunned. (This is something Jehovah's Witnesses do to each other to express their displeasure with one of their number. I sure wish I had known before now that I was a Witness.) But at least I didn't get the Hester Prynne award. I'm saving my chest space to sell it on eBay.

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My favorite word today is wife. N., also known as SAHM, and/or breadwinner, laundress, cook, etc., while her husband sits on his fat ass. Def.: A thing that is not averse to asking for directions.

Happy B**giversary to Me!

One year ago today, Old Horsetail Snake became one of about 24 million b**ggers on the Internet. I was then the least famous. Now I am the same, thank you.

In "honor" of the occasion, here is one of my outputs from January, 2005:

It's a Cakewalk

The other day the Activity Director of the Old Folks' Home decided we should have a cakewalk. She is good at thinking up juvenile activities for ancient people who are easily bored. She put 9 numbered slices of cardboard on the floor, in a circle, and asked people to assemble thereon. She said, "When the music starts, move around clockwise. When the music stops, we'll draw one number from a hat. The person at that number will win the prize, this lovely cake."

Maude Frickert: "You can't get away with this."

Activity Director: "With what?"

Maude: "Susie Redwipe, there in the wheelchair, is covering two numbers. So she's got twice the chance of winning. It's not fair."

AD: "Well, I'll give everybody two numbers."

Maude: "But then Redwipe will have FOUR numbers. It isn't fair!"

AD: "Why don't we just play some music and give you the cake, Maude? Would that be okay?"

Maude: "Hell, no! I can't eat cake. I'm a diabetic."

Redwipe (tremulously, hoping not to get hit): "Maude, why, then, are you in the cakewalk?"

Maude: "I just thought I would make it fun for everybody."

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I go into the liquor store and I'm only in there 5 minutes. When I come out, a cop is writing a parking ticket. I say, "Hey, you bozo, how about giving a senior citizen a break now and then?" He ignores me and keeps on writing. I call him a "Storm Trooper" and a "Nazi." He puts the first ticket on the windshield and starts to write another for worn tires.

"You're just a piece of dog shit, you know?" He finishes the second ticket, writes a third for assault or something, and wheels off on his motorcycle.

So, I walk to my car, which is parked around the corner. Geez, some cops just can't take a joke.

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My favorite word today is squeezed. Adj., have a nice day. Def.: When people on both sides of you in an airplane have claimed the armrests.

Got a Disease We Can Make Fun Of?

What this country needs now is a good 5-cent disease. There isn't any of them, anymore, that you can get your jollies over. Simply put, there are no fun diseases in the USA of today.

See, we used to laugh and laugh when somebody with St. Vitus Dance (Sydenham Chorea) would go into their act. Then we found out it's a form of rheumatic fever, and it wasn't funny anymore.

We called gout "the rich man's disease," and laughed because "he is getting what's coming to him for eating all that rich food." Then we found out this is a form of arthritis, and that wiped the grins right off.

And we'd say of the Olmecs, "They musta had a recessive gene for mongolism." And we'd tease kids afflicted with what is now known as Down's Syndrome "for having the big head." But this is serious business, and we discovered there is no smileage in this disease, either.

We teased Michael Jackson about grabbing his nuts all the time, until we discovered he simply had tinea cruris -- jock itch.

So, as usual, it has been left to Ol' Hoss to invent a disease that will be pleasant to have and we can make jokes about it, maybe. So here it is:

The Permanent Tan That Doesn't Make You Look Like a Cuban. I would think there would be a lot of call for a disease like this. Lots of people don't like the way they look along about this time of year, and they think about going to Florida to get some sunshine. Florida doesn't need any more people. Just pick up a dose of Hoss's new tanning disease and you'll be all set for the winter.

I will be sorting through some genes in test tubes to figure out how to do this. In the meantime, you can help me out with the name. For some reason, while developing this disease, I remembered the name of a former professional tennis player, named Roscoe Tanner. So why don't we name my new disease after him?

Good idea? I thought so, too. So, Roscoe it is.

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My favorite word today is boredom. N., nothing on TV. Def.: The kind of disease cured by reading Ol' Hoss's definitions.

I Remember Mama (and Burma Shave)

I think I mentioned somewhere along the line that I might be going to a mini-convention of b**ggers in Las Vegas in April. Well, first things first: I need the money to pay my way. (This will be separate from my Reincartion Fund, which will see me wheelin' by the Southern Cross with several previous Popes in tow.) Well, here's how we're raising the dough:

Ol' Hoss's Traffic Cone Ads.

Listen, don't laugh. This is not funny. Just think of it. Sometimes you see a mile or more of those cones tellin' you not to drive in that lane because it's plumb wet of tar or concrete. Now, if you was Google, wouldn't you want to put your ads on those cones?

Like this here.
Well, you know right away that's a Burma Shave ad. But you can't put those along the Interstate highways nowadays (it's illegal, you bozo). And besides that, Burma isn't Burma anymore. It's Myanmar. How would you like to see a sign in your neighborhood that said:

"Henry the Eighth
"Sure Had Trouble
"Short-Term Wives
"Long-Term Stubble.
"Myanmar Shave."

I figure the highway contractors probably pay $10 each for those traffic cones. If I can sell wording on 'em for $15 apiece, I will be a zillionaire of the Bill Gates class, because, as you all know, all the highways are getting reconstructed all the time -- especially in areas where you travel.

"Don't Stick Your Elbow
"Out Too Far
"It Might Go Home
"In Another Car.
"Brought to You Courtesy of General Motors and Myanmar Shave."

Sorta grabs you right where you live, don't it?

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My favorite word today is Burma. N., You ever see that movie about the Burma Road? Def.: Big Mistake, Many Make, Rely on Horn, Instead of Brake.

Short Shrift Sunday #9

What if animals were in charge (Part 2)?


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So, Ol' Hoss is driving around the pharmacy, trying to get a parking place up close so I don't need to walk too far (on accounta my lung disease, see). Finally, I say, "Big Ernie, if you can find me an up-close parking place I will go to church every Sunday and give up booze." Miraculously, a parking place opens up right at the pharmacy's front door.

Hoss says, "Never mind, Ernie. I found one."*

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What makes somebody become a Christian? It's all in the genes. The story, "Gay Scientists Isolate the Christian Gene," is here.

Thanks to Milt Bogs for the link.

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My favorite phrase today is How old am I? Adj., hard to tell. Def.: When I was young, the Dead Sea was only sick. (--Milton Berle.)

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(*A tip of the Ol' Hoss hat to Oz down there in Australia.)

Short Shrift Saturday #9

What if animals were in charge?

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A lady is in the dealership admiring a Lexus. As she leans forward to inspect the fine leather upholstery, a small burst of flatulence escapes her. Embarrassed, she looks around to see if anyone noticed.

Standing behind her is a salesman. "Good day, madame. How may we be of help?"

Trying to recover, the lady mumbles, "Um, how much is this car?"

Salesman: "Madame, if you farted just touching it, you are going to shit when you hear the price."

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My favorite word today is eternity. N., wearing out the ear piece. Def.: The length of time it takes to get a human on the phone; equivalent to the wait for the Second Coming.

Life in a Test Tube

A long while back (1971) an Oregon legislator of my acquaintance, Rich Kennedy, was trying to convince his cohorts to pass a bill that would require two public members to be appointed to all state boards and commissions. He argued that the boards, constituted of members of a particular trade or profession, existed simply to keep other people out. So he handed out a paper giving examples of "typical license board examinations."

Education: Describe the history of the papacy from its origins to the present, concentrating especially, but not exclusively, on its social, political, economic, religious and philosophical impact on Europe, Asia, America and Africa.

Medicine: You have been provided with a razor blade, a piece of gauze and a bottle of Scotch. Remove your appendix. Do not suture until your work has been inspected. You have 15 minutes.

Biology: Create life. Estimate the differences in subsequent human culture if this form of life had developed 50 million years earlier, with special attention to its probable effect on the English parliamentary system.

Music: Write a piano concerto. Orchestrate and perform it with flute and drum. You will find a piano under your seat.

Psychology: Evaluate the emotional stability, degree of adjustment and repressed frustrations of each of the following: Alexander of Aphrodisias, Ramses II, Gregory of Nicea and Hammurabi.

Engineering: The disassembled parts of a high-powered rifle have been placed in a box on your desk. You will also find an instruction manual printed in Swahili. In 10 minutes, a hungry Bengal tiger will be admitted to the room. Take whatever action you feel appropriate.

Economics: Develop a realistic plan for refinancing the national debt. Trace the possible effects of your plan in the following areas: Cubism, the Donatist controversy, and the wave theory of light. Point out the deficiencies in your plan.

Sociology: Estimate the sociological problems which might accompany the end of the world.

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My favorite word today is catfight. N., your record-keeping stinks. Def.: The argument you have with the Blockbuster clerk about whether you did indeed return that CD.

Flowers That Bloom in the Spring, Tra La!

There's bound to be another "blonde" joke in here somewhere. (This "test" is courtesy of Plum Crazy J&J's Mom.)

Going on the offensive:

What did the blonde say when she found out she was pregnant?
"Are you sure it's mine?"

Why is air a lot like sex?
Because it’s no big deal unless you’re not getting any.

Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?
Because those men already have boyfriends.

What’s the difference between a new husband and a new dog?
After a year, the new dog is still excited to see you.

What’s the difference between a northern fairy-tale and a southern fairy-tale?
A northern fairy-tail begins “Once upon a time”. A southern fairy-tale begins “Y’all ain’t gonna believe this shit...”

(As usual, don’t blame this on me. It’s Judy’s fault.)

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The year’s best headlines of 2005:

“Crack Found on Governor’s Daughter”
“Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers”
“Miners Refuse to Work After Death”
“War Dims Hope for Peace”
“Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures”
“Man Struck by Lightning; Faces Battery Charge”
“New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group”
“Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead”

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My favorite word today is perplexed. Adj., what the hell? Def.: The slight frown on the face of someone who is examining your music collection.

I Shoulda Been a Scientific

Because math was so difficult for me in high school, I got warned off trying to be a scientific. But in my dotage I know I coulda been a good one. I describe to several science publishings, like Archaeology, National Geo, and Smithsonian. I love pictures of naked natives and sphinxes, like this one. What I been thinkin' on of late is global warmup. A lot of the blame is being put on us "developed" countries putting too much gunk (carbon dioxide) in the air. Scientists are continually saying this is "too bad."

I am submitting a paper to some high muckety-muck science outfit tomorrow describing my solution to this problem. In a nutshell, without all the graphs and stuff, here it is:

Everybody on the planet Earth (and this goes for cows, too) breathes in, on average, 35 pounds of oxygen a day -- and then breathes out an equal amount of carbon dioxide. This is the shits (methane from that stuff is another contributory to global warmup).

So here's my solution to global warming: From here on out it is okay to breathe in, but not to breathe out. This will take a heavy burden off the airwaves, close the ozone hole, and keep the temperature moderate in Oregon. You butts in Minnesota and New Hampshire will continue to get snow and freezing rain, but that's what Big Ernie intended all along, so live with it.

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Boy, I wish I had majored in science, because there are a lot of enigmas like this I could be solving. For instance, I've always wondered: If a butterfly farts in the forest, will it make a smell if there is nobody there to appreciate it?

Unknowns like that keep me awake at night.

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My favorite word today is storage. N., thanks to Painless Parker. Def.: After getting a tooth extracted, this is the hole in your gum where you place little bits of food for consuming later.

Date Checks 2006; Make Them Out to Me

From my pal Judy, an oldie but goodie:

A little old lady had worked in and around her family dairy farm since she was old enough to walk. When canned Carnation milk became available in grocery stores in the 1940s, she read an advertisement offering $5,000 for the best slogan. The producers wanted a rhyme beginning with "Carnation Milk is best of all..."

The LOL thought to herself: I know all about milk and dairy farms. I can do this!

She sent in her entry, and about a week later a big black limo drove up in front of her house. A man got out and said, "Carnation LOVED your entry so much, we are here to award you $1,000, even though we will not be able to use it."

This was her entry:

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I ambled down to the dining room for a cup of coffee, and Feelgood Haines calls me over to his table. Feelgood is our Eccentric Historian here in the Home for the Deranged. "You know, Hoss," he says, "this is the year when we're boasting on ol' Lewis & Clark, and I bet there's a lot of their history you ain't up on."

Hoss: "I think that's about to be cured."

Feelgood: "Well, this story is just too good for you to go to the grave without. Did you know Meriwether Lewis had a brother named Fairywether?"

Hoss: "That's too good to be true."

Feelgood: "Well, anyway, after readin' what his brother wrote about the Great Northwest, Fairywether made his way out here to clean up in the tuna industry. One thing that got to him, though, was that he was deathly afraid of the ocean. So he had to hire a bunch of Indians to do his harvesting."

Hoss: "For once, your story is making sense."

Feelgood: "Here's the best part: Fairywether needed a name for his product, so the Chief Indian -- who was the Indian Chief -- said, 'We'll name it after you. How does Chicken of the Sea grab you?'"

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My favorite phrase today is interim. Adj., jolly good show. Def.: What they do with 'arry when 'e dies in London.

Just Catching Up on a Few Things

As you know, I was not able to post anything on Christmas on account of Internet hookup problems. So I didn't get to repeat what LadyBug gave me as one of those re-writes of the old 'Twas the Night Before. I won't give you the whole thing, just some parts that especially relate to us Old and In the Way People:

"Our salad was Jell-O, so jiggly and great,
"Then puree of fruitcake was spooned on each plate.
"The social director then had us play games,
"Like 'Where Are You Living?' and 'What Are Your Names?'

"Old Grandfather Looper was feeling his oats,
"Proclaiming that reindeer were nothing but goats.
"Our resident wanderer was tied to her chair,
"In hopes that at bedtime she still would be there."

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Is this dog blonde? Close enough. Here is part of the "famous" blonde's year in review:

January: Took scarf back to store. Was too tight.

March: Finished jigsaw puzzle in 6 months. Box said "2-4 years."

April: Trapped on escalator for 5 hours. Power went out.

July: Lost breast stroke swimming contest. Other swimmers used their arms.

December: Couldn't call 911. No "eleven" button on my phone.

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According to Oz:

A lady gives birth in a hospital, and her doctor comes in with a worried look on his face. She says, "Is there something wrong?"

Doctor: "Well, yes, I'm afraid that your baby is a hermaphrodite."

She: "What's that?"

Doctor: "That means the child has features of both a male and a female."

She: "You mean it has a penis...and a brain?"

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My favorite phrase today is 45 minutes. Adj., the joke is on blonde males. Def.: The difference between a boyfriend and a husband.

Short Shrift Sunday #8

I published a post at 5:10 a.m. today. It is not here. Here is a reasonable facsimile:

This is either a hot tub for baby or Mommy's lunch. One of those.

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Waxing lyrical:

What is life? It is a flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of the buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset. It is the noxious smell of a seeper from your 16-year-old son in the back seat.

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Lucy has at her site a whole raft of mistakes Israeli high school students made on English matriculation exams, such as:

"You should be preparing the pizza as follows: Put the floud and water in the bowel and scrumble it with the spoon."

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My favorite phrase today is speech impediment. Adj., mamma mia. Def.: When an Italian has one arm shorter than the other.