Short Shrift Saturday #19

Isn't this nice?

I have seen some of these "word cloud" dudes before, but never got mine done until my pal Vicki did one. And the only reason I did it was because she got ALL the members of her family in her "cloud": Bud, snarl (Abby), Rich, Vicki, Mom, Daniel. (I got Feelgood and Vicki in mine; who could want anything more?)

Vicki says she is "well," after the death of her Mother. Probably not, but all of us love her, so we'll give her the benefit of the non-doubt.

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This here is my buddy on Staten Island, Babs (Jen). I am running this picture so you'll know what she looks like, so the next time she refers to herself as a "hag" or a "misfit," you will know she is lying.

But MOSTLY I am running this so you can see her teeth. Babs is, like me, dentureless, and so we got dentures. We both made out real pretty.

Babs also is my epileptic buddy. Scientists call this "too bad." But we love her, anyway.

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My favorite word today is me. N., helluva guy. Def.: Something well worth writing about.

Bathtubs Can Be Appealing, I Guess

This is St. Patrick's Day. Big deal. I'm French.

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Here are things I know a lot about: how to spell "February"; gooseberries; some things that you don't care about. Which takes us right to bathtubs.

When I was a kid (circa 1930s) we didn't know about showers. We also didn't know about bathtubs. Living at 736 Florida St. in Bend, Ore., my brother and I would get a bath in a galvanized tub each Saturday. I don't ever recall fighting over who got to go first. Since it was a bum deal, we probably fought over who got to go last.

So, anyway, we moved to a house that had a bathtub. Do you know you can get just as dirty taking a bath as if you didn't take one? My favorite word today is bathtub. N., strange place to be. Def.: Place to redistribute dirt.

Later, houses had bathtubs with showers in them. Too many people cracked their skulls taking showers in bathtubs, so they put some strips on the tub so your feet could get a grip. But then nobody wanted to sit on these things, so bathtubs became extinguished.

So now houses come with no bathtubs at all. This is probably not the best time to be an expert about bathtubs.

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A dog goes into a hardware store and says, "How about a job?"

The owner says, "Nah, get outta here. Go join the circus."

Dog: "What would the circus want with a plumber?" --(Courtesy of Milt Bogs.)

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My favorite phrase today is in conclusion. Adj., wrapping it up. Def.: The audience stirs.

Way Way Back in the Day

Okay, here's what my late Mom says:

"The Maudlins lived in the Northern District (of France), as the people who live there are predominately of the tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed type..."

All you short, brunette, brown-eyed people are probably from Macedonia or Irkutsk.

What my Mom was doing was "Researching the Maudlin Family History," which -- as best as she could figure -- started in about 1550, when some bo peep of ours crossed over to England. But we do not know who what when where why or how of anybody else until we see Ezekiel the 1st settling in North Carolina. For the rest of the story, we will pick up from my North Carolina buddy Judy:

"Hoss, I don't know what the hell you're talking about...."

Moving right along, "maudlin" was a girl's name (Little Maud) frequently used in England in the 16th Century. It derives, as does the family name, from the Anglo-French pronunciation of Magdelene as Maudlin. Somehow, some way, the name got associated with drunkenness, which led Caleb Maudlin (8th generation) to change the spelling to Mauldin. So, Bill Mauldin is a drunk, just like the rest of us.

In the early 1800's, some of the Maudlins moved to Indiana. I am pretty sure that Mamacita, who lives in Indiana, has the rest of that story:

"Hoss, you ape."

In February, 1876, Lucinda Maudlin wed Lawson Hollingsworth. One of their sons became the first Postmaster of Pasadena, Calif., and his brother was the second. Raehan, who lives in California, will be filling us in:

"Hoss, scientists call this 'too bad.'"

From 1916 to 1926, one Lloyd Maudlin served as the first Postmaster of Maudlin, Montana. Today there is nothing left of Maudlin, Montana. Not a brick, not a board. And I don't have a single reader from Montana, so you can just forget the rest of the story.

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My favorite word today is tasteless. V., oh so bad. Def.: You discover -- too late -- that someone used your beer for an ashtray.

I Had a Dream, Dear

This is about the fifth weird dream I have had that is worthy of a Freudian post. See, I will tell it, and you will interpret it:

I am part of a two-man team that has been assigned to find a new Admiral for the Oregon Navy. The Governor did not like any of the obvious candidates -- Gordon "Sinksboats" Scullery and Ransom "Heave-Plenty" Capstan.

(Oregon does not have a navy. But neither does Nebraska.)

My superior is upstairs talking to the Governor when in walks this lady wearing jodhpurs, carrying a crop, and with high-top army boots. I say to my secretary, "And prithee, who is THAT?" He says, "THAT is Big Rear Admiral Josephine Navybrat. She is in charge of our wild horses program."

Hoss: "Has she ever been on a boat?"

Secretary: "Why I believe she owns one -- an 8-footer. I believe it's called a 'punt'."

(Now, you see, in real life Hoss would have said, "What the hell are we doing with a wild horses program?" And my secretary would have said something like, "Well, we don't have any boats, so it gives the employees something to do.")

I don't know if this dream means anything, but upon reflection it has the makings of a pretty good movie. Just think of it: Navy guys mounting horses. (Ho ho har de har har. I crack myself up.)

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So, this Avon lady enters the elevator and -- hoo boy -- she passes big gas. She is well-armed for the event: She opens her sample case and tries to spray away the odor.

Two floors up, a gentleman enters the car. She, confident that her spray job has done the trick, says to the guy, "Do you smell anything?" And he says, "Yes, it smells like somebody has crapped in a pine tree."

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My favorite word today is Moses. N., the wilderness guy. Def.: The travel agent who warns you about a foreign city's armpit to show you how valuable he is to have along.

Where Have You Been, Feelgood?

I don't get out much -- but it seems like that damn Feelgood Haines knows just when it will be. I put off going for the mail until 4 p.m., quiet as a mouse, when I hear:

"Hold on there, Hoss."

I told him: "Just goin' for the mail, Feelgood, nice to see you and goodbye."

Of course, by now, Feelgood has blocked the path to the mailboxes because he KNOWS I am underfed, historically. (Mr. Haines is the reigning chieftain when it comes to tales historic.)

Feelgood: "Start chanting 'By the shorts of gitchiegummie' and what's the first thing that comes to mind?"

Ol' Hoss: "Thailand?"

Feelgood: "I didn't slow you down to banter. This is good for you to know in case you ever need to know about American history, which I think you know you do."

Hoss: "Okay, Feelgood, lay it on me."

Feelgood: "What you think of is Pocohontas, a.k.a. Matoaka, which nobody uses on accounta it is a slippery word. And the thing is, Poco didn't have a damn thing to do with it. See, she was a Pontiack, and the gitchigummies lived someplace else and drove Hondas. You probably want to know where, so I'll have to look it up for you." (All of these are paintings of Pocohantas -- or none of them is.)

Hoss: "Oh I would be SO in your debt...."

Feelgood: "So then Pocohontas saved Capt. John Smith from being head-bashed, then she got herself captured, then she got religion, then she married John Rolfe, who developed Virginia tobacco. See how it's goin' here, Hoss? Huh? Thanks a lot, bitch."

Hoss: "I don't get it."

Feelgood: "Sure you do. If Poco hadn't wanted to go to England, John Rolfe wouldn't have needed a lot of dough which he got from developing tobacco, which is what is wrong with your lungs, you dodo. And the worst thing is that Pocohontas means 'playful one.' My ass."

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When Slick Willy and Dubya get together, what happens next? Go here. (Stolen from Miss Cellania.)

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My favorite word today is warmup. Adj., wonder buns. Def.: The odd feeling you get when sitting on a seat still warm from someone else's bottom.

To Soothe the Savage Chicken Breasts

It has now been one year since I quit smoking. I don't feel any better. My doctor says that's because I quit too late. Hah, all he knows. I am 75 and 164/365ths, which is plenty past 70, which is what the Bible says you get. So gimme a butt.

Nah. Maybe later.

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I am pretty good at Memes, except music. So, naturally, Boo has laid on me this one about seven songs I am currently jiving. Hah, fat chance. I don't think I have listened to seven songs in my whole life. Let's see:

1. "Take an Old Cold Tater and Wait." We have heard about this one before. It is a philosophi-
cal recita-
tion on a wasted life in the Idaho free-range potato fields. Strangely, it is mostly about chicken.

2. "Three Little Fishies." This monumental work concerns removal of an earth dam on the lower end of the Colorado River. There is never any water where the dam is. I don't know what this song has to do with fish.

3. "The Star-Spangled Banner." This is a takeoff on a British drinking song. It starts out with much ado about rockets and such, then segues right into a paean about braves and other Indians. People without three octaves in their portfolio probably will want to give this one a miss.

4. "Long Gone With the Wind and the Rain." This is a song yet to be written. It will be the theme for a movie of the same name, which I will have ready for the next Academy Awards. The movie is about Darth Vader trying to get into Demi Moore's pants. In Take 5, he is still too short.

There, that's seven.

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"Why is it when folks talk to God it is praying, but when God talks to you, you're crazy?" --Peskie.

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My favorite word today is smooth. Adj., you sly dog. Def.: Descriptive of young men who stand around smiling as if to suggest they know the bride quite well.

Short Shrift Sunday #18

The old man cuts the hamburger in two and gives one half to his wife. He then counts out the french fries, and gives her exactly half. He puts the soft drink between them, and they each take a sip. Then he begins to eat.

A young man comes over to the table and offers to buy another entree for them. "No thanks," said she. "We are used to sharing everything."

The old man finishes off his meal; his wife had not taken a bite. He wipes his lips with the napkin. The young man comes over again and says to the lady, "Um, what are you waiting for?"

"The teeth."

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For a video explaining what amuses old people, go here.

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My favorite word today is cat. N., an unanswered puzzle. Def.: A thing that teaches us not everything in nature has a purpose. --Garrison Keillor.

Short Shrift Saturday #18

Two women friends had gone for a girls' night out. Later, incredibly drunk and walking home they needed to pee. So they stopped in the cemetery.

One of them had nothing to wipe with, but she thought nothing of using her panties. The second was wearing expensive panties and didn't want to part with them. Luckily, she had crouched next to a grave that had a wreath with a ribbon on it, so she used that.

The next day one of the women's husbands phoned the other and said, "These girls night out have got to stop. I'm starting to suspect the worst -- my wife came home with no panties."

"That's nothing," said the other. "Mine came back with a card stuck to her butt that said....'From all of us at the Fire Station. We'll never forget you.'"

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My favorite phrase today is what the hell? Adj., out damned spot. Def.: After scrubbing and scrubbing, he discovers the smudge on the window is on the other side.

We Shall /Shall Not Overcome

In the late 1960s (before all of you were born), a friend of mine who was a state legislator introduced a bill to repeal a 1917 law creating "Frances E. Willard Day" in Oregon. The "Day" was the 4th Friday of October, when teachers were instructed to set aside time to tell their students about the "life, history and achievements" of Miss Willard.

Willard was a prohibitionist, social reformer and foe of capitalism. But it seemed nobody cared, since the day was never observed. So this legislator, Richard Kennedy, said why not repeal the statute?

Well, that's when the dung beetles hit the fan. The Women's Christian Temper-
ance Union rose up in arms, and the Legislature ran for cover.

Kennedy was not dismayed. He became an advocate for Frances E. Willard Day and, thus, the darling of the WCTU. In the next session of the Legislature (with tongue still firmly in cheek) he introduced a bill setting criminal penalties in the statute for teachers who didn't teach about Frances E. Willard. Needless to say, since teachers and jail space were then in short supply, this did not happen.

Later, though no longer a legislator, Kennedy got a friend to introduce a bill to make Frances E. Willard Day a state holiday. "It would put Oregon on the map -- a psychologically important innovation," he said. "As it is now, the only other calendar date taking notice of women is Mother's Day, which is indicative of the historical treatment of women. It would be a step in the right direction to recognize women as individuals rather than as the party chief in reproduction."

This got the Legislature's attention. Late in the session, the Oregon Legislature repealed Frances E. Willard Day and established "Women in Oregon History Week." During the second week of March, schools are required to commemorate the lives, history and achievements of Oregon Women in History -- including Frances E. Willard.

I wonder if it's too late to nominate my girlie side for a couple days' worth of instruction?*

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My favorite phrase today is fleshing it out. Adj. the talk is getting pretty salty in here. Def.: An argument between the baker and the preacher as to whether the wafers are unleavened.

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(*Are they teaching it this year? You gotta be kidding.)

Remembrances

This cartoon reminds me of Magill's Drug Store in Bend, Oregon. Magill had one of those really tall scales that you could weigh yourself on, and it didn't cost a penny, like lots of other scales did. Magill's is now out of business, probably because they didn't collect a penny per weigh-in.

I weighed myself there pretty often (for free, of course), and every time it was the same: 129 pounds. I was 5'11", and I only weighed 129 pounds. And Magill wouldn't let me go in there dripping wet, so I never weighed as much as you do now.

Which is kinda of surprising, because right next door to Magill's was Kessler's Ice Cream Shop. This was the hangout of choice for my gang in high school. I'm sure Coca Cola existed then, but we studs had milkshakes (chocolate, banana) or "lemon phosphates," whatever they were. After a year of this: 5'11", 129 pounds.

Well, that's enough about olden times. Now let's look to the future. Because the earth's rate of rotation is slowing, the length of each day is increasing by 2 milliseconds per century. So, later on when I get to be 100, I will actually be 100 + 2 milliseconds. You suppose they can get all that on a tombstone?

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From my buddy Peskie, brother of Oz:

On the third day, Jesus rose, rolled back the rock at the door of his tomb, and walked again on earth.

And a passerby, noticing the open doorway, says: "What's the matter with you? Were you born in a barn?"

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My favorite word today is dissemble. Adj., a major fake-out. Def.: A clean joke held in reserve for the time you tell your buddies one about whorehouses and which you tell the wife after she says, "What's so funny?"

Is This Funny Yet?

Marti reminds me that it is difficult to know what's funny, and what ain't. So we are gonna show you:

The new priest is nervous about hearing confessions, so he asks the older priest to sit in on his sessions. The new priest hears a couple of confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions. (Nah, not funny yet.)

The old priest suggests, "Cross your arms over your chest, and rub your chin with one hand....and try saying things like: "Yes, I see," and "Yes, go on," and "I understand." The new priest crosses his arms, rubs his chin with one hand and repeats all the suggested remarks to the old priest. (Wait, there's more.)

The old priest says, "Now, don't you think that's a little better than slapping your knee and saying, "No shit.....what happened next?" (Minor uproar, followed by two or three chortles.)

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Presidential candidate Maxine:

Maxine on Driver Safety: "I can't use the cell phone in the car. I have to keep my hands free for making gestures..." (Ho ho.)

Maxine on Housework: "I do my housework in the nude. It gives me an incentive to clean the mirrors as quickly as possible." (Hmmmmm.)

Maxine on Technology Revolution: "My idea of rebooting is kicking somebody in the butt twice." (Yawn.)

Maxine on Lawn Care: "The key to a nice-looking lawn is a good mower. I recommend one who is muscular and shirtless." (Heh-heh.)

Maxine on The Perfect Man: "All I'm looking for is a guy who'll do what I want, when I want it, for as long as I want, then go away. Or wait nearby, like a Dust Buster, charged up and ready when needed." (Ho ho har de har har.)

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My favorite word today is 1/2 mile. N., or thereabouts. Def.: The closest distance at which sheep remain picturesque. (Cackle.)

Now Look Who's the Girly Man*

I have reported to you from time to time about my girly side -- how I have needle-
pointed, braided and hooked rugs (see left, for my "I am a hooker" entry), and HAVE EVEN DONE THE DISHES. Well, now there is this lady, Betty Bowers, who thinks that Preznut Bush is "a little light in the loafers."

First, she points to Dubya's remark on May 27, 2004: "Karyn (Frist) is with us. A West Texas girl, just like me."

There's more. She notes the President's use (overuse) of the word "fabulous" --"three giddy syllables that are tantamount to coyly cooing 'Hello, sailor.'" On her site she gives the links to 36 fabulosities by the Pres.

And then there is this from Geocities:

"I don't give a good goddamn if you want to be a cheerleader. Your father and I have decided you are going to play sports, like all the other little boys, mister sissy britches. Now get your hands off of your damned hips, you little pansy, and fetch me a scotch on the rocks." -- Mrs. George H.W. (Barbara) Bush, 1954.

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Ms. Bowers also has on her site "an interview with God," which includes this exchange about the odds of going to Heaven:

Betty: "Many are called but few are chosen."

God: "It is just like Publishers Clearinghouse."

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My favorite word today is ZZZZZZZ. N., many logs sawn. Def.: In the after-sex entanglement, your leg goes to sleep.

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(*George: If you want to make fun of Ol' Hoss on your b**g, please feel free.)

Random Mutterings

Jan and Bud, the parents of one of my bestest buddies, Vicki, are both hospitalized in Marquette, Michigan. Jan is in poor condition. Please visit Vicki and give her a pat on the back.

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So this guy is out fishing and he catches a mermaid. She says, "Let me go and I will grant you a wish." He says, "Okay, I want you to triple my IQ." She says, "Right." And in a flash, he was a woman.

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Eeeeek!

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O'Reilly hoisted his beer and said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, between the legs of me beautiful wife." And, with that, O'Reilly won the pub's prize for best toast of the night.

He goes home and says to his wife, Mary, "I won the prize for Best Toast of the Night." She says, "And what was it?" And he says, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife."

The next day, Mary runs into one of O'Reilly's buddies, who tells her about the prize. And she says, "Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised. You know, he's only been there twice in the last four years. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come."

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Do you remember when we had the pictures entitled "Cloning Gone Wrong"? Here's one I overlooked. Cute, huh? Better than a buttcrack picture, anyway.

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Simple Simon met a Pie Man going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the Pie Man,
"What have you got there?"
Said the Pie Man unto Simon,
"Pies, you dumb ass."

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My favorite word today is profound. Adj., a Mensa, no doubt. Def.: Descriptive of how smart you become after having several drinks.

Sunday

I used to not produce much on Saturday and Sunday because people are busy doing other things -- picking up PBJ sandwiches from the floor, finding a less churchy-church, putting their children up for adoption -- so they don't have time to read Ol' Hoss's pieces.

But, you see, somebody said yesterday I should have included a picture of a dung beetle in my piece, and so here it is, one day late. I apologize.

Also, when you run across a gem of a b**g, it is always wise to pass it on. After you steal from it, of course. Here is what I stole from Holtie's House, slightly modified:

A man comes to a dead stop in traffic. He sees a police officer walking down the road and asks, "What's the trouble?"

The cop says, "President Bush has stopped his motorcade, saying he's fed up with the lack of respect he's getting. He says he's going to douse himself with gasoline and end it all. He's even complaining that he doesn't have enough money to pay for renovations on his house. So I guess they're taking up a collection."

"How's it going?"

"Well, so far they've got 100 gallons, but some people are still siphoning."

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I stole something else from Peter (who is Holtie's House, link above). He has a whole raft of one-liners about dogs that is just priceless. Here is one; you click above and go see the rest:

"My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3 a can. That's about $21 in dog money."

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My favorite word today is eureka! Adj., how sweet it is. Def.: You found there was ONE MORE roll of toilet paper.

LONG Shrift Saturday

Usually my Saturday posts are pretty brief. So it goes.

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Nick the Dragon Slayer knew that his desire to touch the luscious melons of the Queen of the Realm would probably go unrequited -- to touch was to be put to death. But, he asked the King's physician, can you help me? "She is like the mudhole that has tempted the mosquito," says Nick.

The Physician agrees to help, but demands 1,000 crowns (or florins, or bahts, or kruggerands). Nick agrees. And so the next day the Physician makes up a batch of itching powder and pours it into the Queen's bra while she is bathing. Naturally, itching commences.

Summoned by the King, the Physician opines that only a special saliva would reduce the itch of the Queen's breasts, and tests proved that only the saliva of Nick the Dragon Slayer would produce results. The King summoned Nick, who was slyly slipped the antidote by the Physician. Nick put it in his mouth, and for hours he worked passionately on the Queen's magnificent breasts. The Queen's itching was relieved, and Nick was hailed as a hero.

On returning to his quarters, Nick found the Physician asking for his 1,000 crowns. Nick, being a cheapskate, said: "Forget it, pal."

The next day, the Physician slipped a massive dose of the itching powder into the King's underwear. The King immediately summoned Nick the Dragon Slayer....

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My favorite word today is power. N., do as I say, not as I do. Def.: The maitre d' gets someone else to clean up your child's vomit.

Animals Rule

My buddy Vicki told me about this guy who, every Friday, invites people to glorify or scandalize or poetize animals, including invertebrates such as worms and (my favorite) dung beetles. Then he puts up links to all the folks who tell him about their prize pictures.

Here's my prize picture, which I have titled "Egg Nest Poop." Or, maybe, the pigeon says: "Sorry, kid, you looked like a statue."

Okay, I don't know if you are allowed two entries. But, what the hey, here's my second choice. This one is titled "Dogs Gone Wild."

I don't know if there is any voting involved in this deal. Probably doesn't matter. Winning isn't everything. It's the poke in your eye that I enjoy.

(If you want to see the REAL Animal Ark, punch here.)

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My favorite word today is dot.come. N., this is going to get messy. Def.: The first thing that emerges when you squeeze a blackhead.

There Are a Lot of Holes in Space

I was thinking the other day of all the benefits to be obtained from the Space Shuttle. Well, no I wasn't, because I can't think of any.

Except this: I read a lot of b**gs written by women who think they're overweight. I would put their URLs on here but you don't want to click on 85 sites. (Okay, here's one, just because she's got a weight-loss chart on her b**g: Judy, my pal in Texas.)

The thing is, we could finally put the Shuttle to some decent use. See, up in space, everything is weightless. So, we give these "overweight" ladies a ride on the Shuttle where they become weightless. And they can say: "Hoo boy! I weigh nothing. Gimme a brownie."

Another thing: Give a man a 10-lb. fish and he can eat for (10 lbs., divided by 8 oz. per serving plus condiments, um...) several days. Teach a man to fish in the Shuttle and Whoa Nellie!! How do we know when he's got a bite?

Here's my plan: We send all you "overweight" women on the Shuttle, where you will be weightless and you will eat weightless food. When you come back to earth don't blame me if you look like the circus fat lady. You were light on your feet for awhile, right?

(Naturally, in the interest of Making My Pile, my weightless brownies will cost $1 per each.)

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My favorite word today is Google. N., remembering Smoky Stover and Barney Google. Def.: A device useful for finding all the sexy parts in "Canterbury Tales."

Rabbits and Crackers

The Pez Family of b**ggers always goes RABBIT! RABBIT! at the start of the month because that's supposed to bring good luck. Well, maybe for people, but not so much, I guess, for rabbits, which also may be called "dinner."

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My buddy MommaK and her pal Lucinda have developed a system for recognizing some fellow b**ggers with some "warm fuzzies." Each month, on the 1st, some of us will be linking our favorite post from the preceding month that someone else has written, designating it for a "Perfect Post Award." This is not a closed shop: If you also want to be a presenter, send email to Momma K at petroville@gmail.com.

My first Perfect Post Award goes to Florida Cracker for a breathtaking piece about his daughter and how he feels about her. For a read, go here. Warning: I know your b**groll is full, but you will want to add this guy.

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Ahmed to Mahoud: "Tomorrow it will be your turn to be our suicide bomber."

Mahoud: "I can't. My doctor thinks the stress would bring on an ulcer."

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Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

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My favorite phrase today is grin and bear it. Vb., smiling through gritted teeth. Def.: When that "perfect" person you can't stand engages you in conversation and you are forced to be polite.

Hoss Goes Back to Work

The Dubai (Emirates) people are serious about wanting to run a bunch of U.S. ports. And to make sure all the ships get to where they're goin', they have asked to hire Ol' Hoss. I am givin' it some thought, on accounta I need to Make My Pile.

What the Dubais want is for me to paint the longitude lines on the Earth. You can see 'em on the globe you buy at the stationery store, but they don't seem to be imprinted on the Earth itself. And the Dubais are afraid some sappy ship captain (see Exxon Valdez) will get lost at sea because he can't see the lines, so they want me to paint 'em. I think I am going to do it, because one of them runs right through New Orleans, and I have never been there.

Where the longitude lines run through an ocean, I won't be usin' paint. I will just drop in some radiated marshmallows, so they'll glow at night.

The reason I need this job is I don't have long to live and I want to be sure to be remembered in your will, and.... No, that's not it.... I want to be sure to be remembered for my self-sacrifice, so I will need a lot of money for that. The plan is to dig a hole about 12,000 miles deep and throw my body in it and see if the natural processes turn me into oil, or gold.

I have always wanted to be useful.

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The little old lady is in church, and she leans over to the little old man and says, "Honey, I just let a silent fart. What should I do?" And he says, "Get a new battery for your hearing aid."

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My favorite word today is dexterity. N., the ability to be capable. Def.: The lost art of getting the shower water temperature just right.

My Contribution to Epic TV

"Desperate Housewives," huh? Bunch a fornicatin' and no baby-makin'. This is not real world stuff. It is left, then, to Ol' Hoss to straighten out the viewing public with what goes down in the real world. Which I am happy to do, bein' so multi-talented.

The title of my TV show will be (ta da!) "Ordinary Housewives." Now then, as I am not a housewive, I might need some coachin'. So you ladies with the stretch marks can feel free to jump right in anytime I stray from truthdom.

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Act 1, Scene 1

Berniece Hardscrabble has barely gotten to sleep when "Wah wah wah waaaaaa!" is heard from the next room. Gamely she trudges to the baby's side, feels his diaper (dry), and gives him a stiff uppercut. "Night night," she says, "you bastard."

Act 1, Scene 2

Berniece's eyes flutter open as her ears hear the raucous snore of her helpmate, Bubba. She stabs him in the chest.

Act 2, Scene 1

After the coroner has left ("accidental drowning" is the verdict), Berniece cooks breakfast for her three booger-laden kids. None of them eats. "We'll catch a donut and a Coke at the convenience store," says Bubba Jr., who cops a tenner from Mom's purse.

Act 2, Scene 2

Berniece wakes the baby and puts him on the layette to change his diaper. Naturally, he has a woody and sprays her in the face. Finished with that, she looks at the list of her chores for the day (reading her list out loud for the benefit of the visually impaired):

DothedishesDothelaundryMakethebedsVacuum7rooms-
BlogGrabthebabyandgotothegrocerystore.

Act 3, Scene 1

Berniece takes call from the school. Bubba is acting up. Go get Bubba, lecture him and get smart-mouthed. Stabs Bubba in the chest. After the coroner leaves (cause of death: "O.D.ed on whole grains"), Berniece begins to pay the bills. Bills total $3,545. Income totals $3,015. Bills go unpaid because Berniece cannot afford to buy stamps.

Berniece goes in mid-afternoon to the school to take No. 1 daughter to soccer practice and No. 2 son to curling practice. Another six-pack of Mountain Dew goes down the tube. Back home, Berniece PicksupthetoysWaterstheplantsMowsthegrassWaterstheyard
WeedsthegardenPicksupthekidsMakesdinnerDoesthedishes
ArrangesforababysitterGetskidsstartedontheirhomework
GoestoParentsClubmeetingGetselectedchairwomanforcookie
salesGoeshomefindsthebabysitterwithherboy
friendandthekidssurfingporn.

Berniece stabs herself. Cause of death: "ordinariness."

Next Week! Another thrilling episode of "Ordinary Housewives," brought to you by the makers of Prozac and Ritalin.

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My favorite word today is sidestep. Vb., avoiding a banana peel. Def.: Taking evasive action against the sidewalk crazy who wants you to take one of his handbills.

Short Shrift Sunday #16

Cinderella is now 95 years old. After a fulfilling life with the now-dead prince, she happily sits upon her rocking chair, watching the world go by, with a cat named Bob for companionship. One sunny afternoon, the Fairy Godmother appeared.

Cinderella said, "What are you doing here after all these years?"

The Godmother replied, "Cinderella, you have lived an exemplary life since I last saw you. Is there anything for which your heart still yearns?"

Cinderella looked down at her frail body and said, "I wish I were young and full of the beauty I once had." At once her wish became reality. Cinderella felt stirrings inside of her that had been dormant for years.

"Is there anything else?" asked the Godmother.

She said, "I wish for you to transform Bob, my old cat, into a kind and handsome young man."

Magically, Bob underwent so fundamental a change in his biological makeuup that, when he stood before her, he was a man so beautiful the likes of him neither she nor the world had ever seen.

"Congratulations, Cinderella," the Godmother said. "Enjoy your new life." And then she was gone.

Cinderella sat, breathless, gazing at the most beautiful, stunningly perfect man she had ever seen. Bob walked over to Cinderella and held her close in his young, musuclar arms. He leaned in close, and whispered: "Bet you're sorry you neutered me."

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My favorite word today is tantrum. Adj., on a high horse. Def.: A b**g piece that expresses anger with everybody and everything. These are not in great demand.

Short Shrift Saturday #16

More money is being spent today on breast implants and Viagra than on Alzheimer's research. Thus, by 2040, we will have a great population of oldsters with perky boobs and huge erections but no recollection of what to do with them.

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Jack and Jill went up the hill
To have a little fun.
Stupid Jill forgot the pill,
And now they have a son.

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My favorite word today is color blind.> Adj., It's gotta be the hair. Def.: Mistaking Albert Einstein for Don King. My second favorite word is catacomb N., it's a-mazing. Def.: Something useful to Don King, as in "Give that cat a comb."

I've Been Working on the Railroad

I had planned to make a big to-do out of it when my Sitemeter said I got to 50,000 visits. I have got there in less than a year because I have so many satisfied customers, such as Ms. Nun here. (What's that? She is surfing porn? Well if that just don't burn your brownies. Dang!)

But then I decided it ain't worth carryin' on about. What the hell difference does it make? You know what really busted my buttons? When I got my very first comment. And then when I got my first oxoxoxoxo's. It has been all downhill since then.

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Okay, about the railroad. As you know, I am very needful of Making My Pile. Most of you have heard of this but newcomers might not know of my grand plan to reincarnate as a goat, which will take a lot of money. (People say, "Why a goat, Ol' Hoss?" And I say, "Don't you remember that old saying, 'Happier than a two-peckered goat'?")

Okay, about the railroad. I have got me a visa, a passport, and certification as a gen-u-ine travel agent. Meaning I can lead tours all over the globe. And the niche I plan to fill (niches is where the big money is) is in Asia, specifically on the TransSiberian Express. Before it broke all to hell, the Soviet Socialist Republic covered 9 time zones. So what I plan to do is get my customers on the TS Express and point out the various time zones. You know, when we roll from Irkutsk to Earwig, I will say, "Just passed another one. Oh, you missed it, Missy? Well, hold on, there's more."

But, of course, after you have seen one time zone I suppose you have seen 'em all, so then I plan to take my customers down to Italy. I am pretty sure we can get there in time to see the Leaning Tower finally eat the weenie.

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My favorite (stolen) word today is cover-up. Adj., also known as demure. Def.: The little movement of modesty by which a girl with visible cleavage pulls her skirt down over her knees.

Well, Let's See....

Speaking of fat (yes we were!), I want to know if you can name all 21,579 "low-fat" products that have been pushed upon us in the last 10 years.

Well, let's see, there's cottage cheese, and free-range chicken, and I guess that's it. Is that 21,579?

Oh, wait: Beer, and then probably pretzels. Yeah, that's the way to do it: Look for "companion" foods. Peanut butter and jelly. Cheese and crackers. Milk and cookies. Tripe and sheep stomach.

Anyway, irregardless of the fact that low-fat is a hokey-pokey advertising scheme, the "food giants" are going to keep on peddling it until we quit buying it. That will probably be awhile yet. Just last year, the foodists produced another 1,877 "low or no-fat" products. I am not going to cry "foul" until they come up with "low-fat eyeliner."

Now then, going back to our 10-year number of 21,579 new foods, how many products do you think the average supermarket has on display? Well, I will tell you: There is bread, mayonnaise, baloney, Velveeta, chocolate milk, and fudgesicles. And some TV dinners. Why would anybody need anything more?

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(Oh, by the by, the story from which I culled these facts also said: "There is no beneficial link between low-fat diets and lower incidence of cancer or heart disease." Bon appetit.')

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My favorite word today is namedropper. N., "I knew him when." Def.: The person who pretends to know someone famous, like my buddy Bill Gates.

How Not To B**g

A friend of mine, Kristy, is promoting a sort of Bulwer-Lytton writing contest on her site. Only this is for bad writing, b**g-wise. She has banned me from participating, just because I left this in her comments section the other day:

"And if that wasn't enough I started my period and I didn't have any tampons so I had to send hubby to the store. LOL. And then they always embarrass him by saying 'Price Check Tampons on Aisle 5.' ROFLMAO. My periods are really messy. Are yours?LOL."

Sometimes you can rescue a badly written piece on your b**g with a clever cartoon stolen off the Internet, like this one. You know what the sign says? It says, "Is the Pope Catholic?"

So, anyway, here are some other Bulwer-Lytton type b**gs that I am hoping not to see:

FEELIN' THE BLUES

"I feel so crappy today. Yesterday both the kids vomited in the front room, and then the dog heaved on my grandmother's cross-stitch. I am probably going to be late to work because SOMEBODY has to clean all this up, and you know who THAT is! LOL. I guess I don't have a lot to say today, but thanks for dropping in. I'll try to visit your site on a non-vomit day."

THOSE KIDS!

"You just can't believe what my 5-year-old, Percival, dropped on me today! LOL. We were at Wally World, just ambling along. We came to the sports section, and there was a man putting a couple of basketballs in his cart. And Percival (he just cracks me up) said, 'Look, Mom, at the guy with the big balls.' And I was all ROFLMAO."


ASKING FOR HITS

"I DO appreciate you who comment on a regular basis, all eight of you. But I know there are lots more lurkers who are reading my pieces regularly and don't let me know who you are. So, to get to know you better, I am posing a question: Would you comment if you knew I am just as horny as you?"

THE WEATHER REPORT (No. 2 Device-for-Getting-Hits)

"It is so cold here today. I thought we were getting some 'global warming,' but it hasn't happened here yet. Our temperature is 5 degrees F. What is yours?"

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My favorite word today is scenic vista. N., I see you! Def.: The best room in your house from which you can see the neighbor lady undressing.

The Best Defense

Do you realize it takes $20 million just to get a ride in a Russian spaceship? So what do you think it would cost to get my body shipped for reincarnation to Cassopeia, which is that neat set of stars that form a letter W? It don't matter much which constellation I go to, I guess, just as long as it has an earth-like planet with plenty of water and grass and chocolate milk and nubile 19-year-olds.

Well, anyway, I obviously will need more than $20 million -- and here's how I'm gonna Make My Pile. I am going into the nuclear bomb sales business. As you can see, anyone can do it, although so many of you are befuddled by chemistry you might want to turn this over to your 12-year-old.

The reason I thought of this is because in the old days people could defend their homes with a shotgun and a mean dog. And at school, kids would defend themselves against bum teachers if they had a pea shooter or some giant spitwads. But then it went to plastic explosives and UZIs. And who the hell could defend themselves against lobbyists, who buy all the Congresspersons they want?

So I will be making and selling the ultimate defense mechanism -- the Nuke. I have Googled this and it's pretty easy to make nuclear bombs. And once you have one, you post a sign outside saying: "Protected by Ol' Hoss's Nuke." You might lose some neighbors, but, what the hell, you didn't like 'em anyway.

(I just thought of something: Those nubile 19-year-olds will be pretty long in the tooth by the time I get there. I maybe gotta rethink this.)

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My favorite word today is prayer. N., What hath God wrought? Def.: Words of hope that the dinner cooked by your 12-year-old chemistry student will be digestible.

The Principle of the Thing

Our friend Freud observed: "The pleasure principle drives one to seek pleasure and to avoid pain." Now then, here we have a sky diver obtaining pleasure from a giddy drop through the clouds. It appears, however, that he is in for some pain. So I guess this is not a very good example of the principle.

Let's try another, the "Peter Principle": "In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence." Now this is pretty meaty, but also not foolproof. See, lots of times, the employee at the bottom of the food chain is incompetent to begin with; there is no "rising" to it. (For examples, see "Help Desk.")

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Let's face it. I have gotten terribly lazy; I would say "indolent" if I had any thought you wouldn't have to look it up.

Recently a lady suggested I sign up with www.cafepress.com and market a bunch of T-shirts, magnets, cups and pins under the "Ol' Hoss" franchise so I could Make My Pile. I could figure out some nifty slogans and put 'em on these merchandises: "Ol' Hoss Stepped in It Here"; "Ol' Hoss's Dehydrated Phlegm"; "Ol' Hoss's Demagnetized Magnets," and "Ol' Hoss and I Have Piles" and the like. But that would require me to work. I am currently opposed to working.

I need to do my taxes. I will do them tomorrow.

I need to do my dishes. I will do them tomorrow.

I need to change my sheets. I will do it tomorrow.

I have some bills to pay. Screw that.

Every month the government sends me a Social Security check in return for not working. It's too bad you fools who work haven't tumbled to this.

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My favorite word today is wishy-washy. Adj., and tumble dry. Def.: Descriptive of you attending a ho-hum movie you are too lazy to abandon and not tired enough to sleep through.

Short Shrift Sunday #15

I have no theme today. This could be Themeless Thursday, except it's Sunday.

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A guy goes into the dentist's office, trailed by his wife. He says, "Listen, I'm in a hurry. A tooth has to be pulled so don't mess around with ether, or novocaine. Just get in there and yank it out."

Dentist: "Which tooth is it?"

The Guy: "Open your mouth and show him, honey."

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Christ is on the cross when he says, "John, John." John tries to get closer so he can see what Jesus wants. But the Roman soldiers grab him and throw him down the hill.

John makes his way back up the hill, behind the cross, and finally gets close enough to ask: "Yes, my Lord, what is it?"

Jesus: "John, John, I can see your house from here."

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My favorite word today is bored. Adj., super doldrums. Def.: Descriptive of the guy whose wife has been taken in hand by the lady selling perfume.

Short Shrift Saturday #15

In my latest weird dream I am an officer on a Liberty Ship in World War II. My 9-year-old daughter is with me. I will let you know if either of us gets killed.

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Speaking of which, did you see the report on how to figure out how soon old people are going to die? Researchers have this Q & A with 12 risk factors to try to answer that for people over 50. Here are the questions in the "Mortality Test", with the scoring table below:

1. Age. 60-64, 1 point; 65-69, 2 points; 70-74, 3 points; 75-79, 4 points; 80-84, 5 points; 85 and older, 7 points.
2. Male, 2 points; female, 0 points.
3. Body-mass index, less than 25(normal weight or less), 1 point. (It is more dangerous to be thin than slightly fat. Go figure.)
4. Diabetes, 2 points.
5. Cancer (excluding minor skin cancers), 2 points.
6. Chronic lung disease that limits activities or requires oxygen use at home, 2 points.
7. Congestive heart failure, 2 points.
8. Cigarette smoking in the past week, 2 points.
9. Difficulty bathing/showering because of a health or memory problem, 2 points.
10. Difficulty managing money/expenses because of a health or memory problem, 2 points.
11. Difficulty walking several blocks because of a health problem, 2 points.
12. Difficulty pushing or pulling large objects like a living-room chair because of a health problem, 1 point.

Scoring: Zero to 5 points, less than a 4 percent risk of dying in the next four years; 6-9 points, 15 percent risk; 10-13 points, 42 percent risk; 14 or more, 64 percent risk.

Ol' Hoss got 14 points. Scientists always say this is "too bad." Naturally I have put in for a recount.

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My favorite word today is interruptus. Adj., blowing you away. Def.: A guy explodes with flatulence right as you reach the punchline in your joke.

On Being a Hobo

I guess it was in the 1920's and 1930's when the economy was sour and when the Dust Bowl came along that some of us first got wind of people we called hobos. One study claimed there were five categories of these guys:

1. Seasonal workers
2. Casual migratory workers, the true hobo
3. The migratory non-worker, the tramp
4. The non-migratory casual worker, the "home guard"
5. The non-migratory, non-worker, the bum
A present-day example of No. 5 is the gentleman on Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles, holding up his sign: "Homeless, hungry, please help. Or see my website at www.hobo.com."

One of the best-known hobos was Woody Guthrie, who wrote a zillion songs, including "This Land is My Land." One of the best known tramps was Charlie Chaplin, who starred in a movie by that name -- and it was not generally known that Charlie was indeed a hobo at an early age, having to fend for himself in London streets after his mother went berserk.

Some hobos would hitchhike but the "glamour" was in riding the freight trains -- and trying to avoid being assaulted by the railroad "bulls." The 'bos got loosely organized, and developed a system of symbols to advise their brethren what to look for in any given community. They would scratch these symbols on fences and telephone poles to advise followers what to expect -- for instance, how to go "lordy lordy" to get a free meal.

Today, hobos are big business. Every August in Britt, Iowa, there is a National Hobo Association Convention. They chow down on "Mulligan Stew", sleep under the stars, get drunk, and elect a King and Queen of the Hobos (whose crowns are made of Folger's coffee cans).

How do you know if you're a hobo at heart? If, when you see someone walking along, you wonder how they would taste raw.

Why am I telling you all this? Because my Mom and Dad fed some of them. Because I had an uncle who was one. And because I got such a slick "Word of the Day."

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My favorite word today is hobosexual. N., precursor of metrosexual. Def.: A bum lay.

A Different World

"Sir Francis Drake circumcised the world with a 100-foot clipper."

This is just one facet of World History to be found at Strange Places. Here are a few more:

"Benjamin Franklin died in 1790 and is still dead."

"John Milton wrote 'Paradise Lost'. Then his wife dies and he wrote 'Paradise Regained'."

"Queen Victoria was the longest queen. She sat on the thorn for 63 years.... Her death was the final event which ended her reign."

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One of these guys looks familiar. I know, it's the guy on the left, currently known as "The Shootist."

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Georgy Porgy, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
And when the boys came out to play,
He kissed them, too, 'cause he was gay.

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Wally, 85, married the girl of his dreams, a chick only 25 years old. On the wedding night the chick decided they should have separate rooms, fearing Wally might get rambunctious and have a heart attack.

Shortly after going to bed, Wally arose and went into the chick's room and "made hay." A couple of hours later, Wally again arose and went into his bride's room and "did what came naturally." Three hours later, Wally was back. The bride says, "My, how can you do it so often?"

And Wally says, "You mean I have been here before?"

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My favorite word of the day is Krispy Kreme. N., what's a few more calories? Def.: A mid-morning snack to reward yourself for only having fat-free cottage cheese for breakfast.

Some of This, Some of That

Does this qualify as a "buttcrack" photo? See, what I am trying to do is gather all the buttcrack photos in one place AND THEN DELETE THIS B**G! Then you won't have to put up with them anymore.

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Why do women have smaller feet than men? Why, it's an evolutionary thing. It allows them to stand closer to the sink.

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How many men does it take to open a beer? None. It should be open when she brings it to you.

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Billy Joe, who is working in a grocery store, is asked by his boss: "Why did you leave Texas?"

"Aw," says Billy Joe, "there's nothing in Texas but football players and prostitutes."

Boss: "My wife is from Texas."

Billy Joe: "No shit? What position did she play?"

(I stole this from my buddy Miss Cellania.)

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Mary had a little lamb.
Her father shot it dead.
And now it goes to school with her
Between two hunks of bread.

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My favorite word today is buttcrack. N., nut job. Def.: The smart-ass who tells you the answers to a crossword puzzle you are working.

Feb. 14 -- A Most Auspicious Day

I thought I could slink into my room without him seeing me, but no. Feelgood Haines, the Old Folks' Home historian, saw me and said, "Hold on, Hoss. You know what day this is?"

Hoss: "I don't care what day it is. It is time for my nap. See you later."

Feelgood: "Now hold on, this is important. This is Feb. 14, which is Oregon's birthday. Oregon was voted into statehood on Feb. 14, 1859, making us 'The Sweetheart State.'"

Hoss: "Oregon is the Beaver State."

Feelgood: "See, in 1843 the settlers gathered together for what they called the 'Wolf Meetings,' to see if they couldn't get a handle on the wild animals that was threatenin' their livelihood -- wolves, grizzlies, cougars, bears and dung beetles. So they decided instead to become a State, and then segued right into racial discrimination and snake oil."

Hoss: "Do tell."

Feelgood: "When Oregon adopted its constitution, it said blacks and Chinese need not apply. After the Civil War, in 1865, the feds said you can't exclude nobody on accounta their race, and Oregon said 'up yours.'* Later on the blacks excluded most whites from the National Basketball Association. Funny how things even out."

Hoss: "About the snake oil.....?"

Feelgood: "Made out of pure rattlesnake oil. Cured everything, including deafness. You heard of Snake Oil salesmen haven't you, Hoss? They got a bad rep now, but back then they was in the business of savin' lives just like the preachers was."

Feelgood: "You know, just today I was pawin' through some old letters my Dad got from my grandfather about how times was in the old Oregon days, and I come across this one that struck me kinda funny. He wrote and said, 'Matilda has had a baby, but I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. So I don't know whether you're an Uncle or an Aunt.'"

(*The exclusion act was repealed 60 years after the Federal government said it was unconstitutional.)

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My favorite word today is garden. N., where moles live. Def.: A place to which rocks and weeds migrate.