Followers

Friday, January 20, 2006

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.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

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.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

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.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

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.

Monday, January 16, 2006

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.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

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.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

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.

Friday, January 13, 2006

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.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

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.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

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.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

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.

Monday, January 09, 2006

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.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

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.)

Saturday, January 07, 2006

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.

Friday, January 06, 2006

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.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

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.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

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.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

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.

Monday, January 02, 2006

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.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

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.