Powerful One-Liners

If electronic devices can all just charge wirelessly….
….Then more power to them.

My friend kept asking me what my military rank was….
….But I told him it was Private.

Why did the optometrist set his clock to Army time?….
….Because he wanted to see 20:20

A soldier went into an enemy bar….
….He got bombed.

What do you call a Marine with an IQ of 160?….
….A platoon.

My high school basketball team didn’t have ice on the sidelines….
….The guy with the recipe graduated.

Remember, if you don’t sin….
….Jesus died for nothing.

I got fired from my job as a massage therapist….
….My boss said I rubbed people the wrong way.

Don’t ask me about my pan pizza….
….It’s personal

A friend asked, “Aren’t you afraid to eat at those food trucks?”….
….When I eat, it’s the food that’s scared.

Every place is within walking distance….
….If you have enough time.

What do you call a student who cheated on every test through medical school?….
….Hopefully, not your doctor.

I’d like a job cleaning mirrors….
….It’s something I could really see myself doing.

If electricity comes from electrons….
….Morality comes from morons.

I finally decided to start working out….
….I did 15 minutes of cardio, 15 minutes of strength training,  and three days of hospital.

What do you call a tiny mother?….
….A minimum.

My wife is taking our son to a child psychologist….
….He said he wants to grow up just like me.

To anybody who received a book from me at Christmas….
….They’re overdue at the library.

I’m glad I wasn’t born in Germany….
….Because I can’t speak German.

Whoever invented Knock, Knock jokes….
….Should get a no bell prize.

Someone once told me to search for inner peace….
….I’ve looked.  It isn’t in here.

Book Review #25

The status quo is not working!
The Republic is disintegrating!

And all of this was foreseen as far back as the early 1960s.  It is a wonderful, empathetic, humanistic thing for the government to help those in need.  The author saw how socialistic support needed to be overseen and controlled – but wasn’t.

Pay a farmer not to raise a particular crop, to protect the income of other farmers who did.  Pay a single mother, so that she and her child could be assured food, clothing and housing.  Pay welfare to a man put out of work by social or technological changes.

Soon, the farmer neglects the maintenance of his equipment, and can’t go back to his trade, even when it is allowed.  The single mother has another child(ren), to increase her guaranteed monthly stipend.  She feels no urge to obtain a provider (A man, in the ‘60s), an education or training, or a job.  The guy on welfare deals drugs or robs corner stores on the side, because it’s easier than getting a real job.

Human nature being what it is, millions of people get lazy, and get used to the new status quo.  There is no impetus to do for themselves.  They become comfortable letting the government provide a reduced, but assured, standard of living.

The book: Space Viking
The book: The Cosmic Computer

The author: H. Beam Piper

The review:

Originally titled “Junkyard Planet”

Born in 1904, Piper was too young for World War I, and too old for World War II, but he must have observed the mountains of materiėl that was left when peace was finally, suddenly, achieved.  In 1963 and 1964, after the Korean War, he wrote these two cautionary, laissez-faire tales.

In each of these books, both initially set on the same planet, after an interstellar war, the people – the society – are poor.  Despite Billions of (dollars) credits worth of goods and equipment being left behind, aside from the occasional prospector/scavenger, no-one bothers to look for it.  They are so used to Big Government taking care of them, that they don’t rouse themselves to improve their own lot.

The two stories are essentially the same, only in one, Piper offers a social/financial solution, while in the other he shows a more political/military answer.  It’s the Stone Soup Theorem.  In each case, an exasperated, instigator protagonist starts a cycle of getting individuals and groups off their lethargic asses, by promising them something for nothing – if they’ll just put some work into his plan.

His credulous followers do not receive what he promises them – they get something much grander and better.  Companies are started, jobs are created, construction and trade is stimulated, unemployment almost disappears, wages go up, welfare goes down, taxes are paid, and infrastructure is rejuvenated.  The people are given back their pride, self-respect, and an incentive to continue to improve themselves and their society.

If only this would work in real life, but it won’t happen until we get a real leader – an honest visionary – who can convince a populace of passive takers, and a government of enabling vote-buyers, that more projects like the TVA – the Tennessee Valley Authority – and the Hoover Dam, will ultimately give back far more than they cost.

Flash Fiction #262

PHOTO PROMPT© Ted Strutz

CANON LAW

…. But the Contessa’s brother is left-handed – I showed that in chapter III, when I had him defend Uncle Auggie from that footpad.

She can’t approach the Duke, because I had her in Milan when the robbery occurred.

I could have Rodrigo, the valet, carry the message, but I’ve already showed that Duke Milburn refuses to converse with other noble’s servants.

Could my cook tell his cook?

Writing this historical fiction isn’t as easy as it seemed.  I should have put up that story-board when Bob suggested it.

Where’s a really good Deus ex Machina, when I truly need one?

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Fibbing Friday – III

My teeth are like the stars.  They come out at night.
With a smile and a wave to Pensitivity101, and The Usual Gang of Idiots who compose these lists, this is my most recent chance to lie through my teeth.  I just blow gently, as they sit beside my hot chocolate.
1. What is a tie dye?

That’s what might happen to me, if I try to self-accessorize.  My wife, the Mistress (or is that distress?) of circumlocution says, “Are you wearing that?” – which means, ‘I may have to strangle you with that tie, because I would dye of embarrassment if you went out in public with it on.’
I quickly reply, ‘This??!  Uh, no!  This must have been right beside the one I should have picked.  Why don’t you grab it for me, Honey?’
2. What is a raglan sleeve?

That’s what’s on some of my older gently-used tee-shirts.  I don’t want to say that I am old – and cheap – but I’ve watched silent movies in some of them.  Now, if I don’t keep an eye on them, the wife makes them into muscle shirts by ripping the sleeves off, and using them to dust.
3. What is seersucker?

That was the last suit I purchased, before we were married.  Seers Sears sold it, and a sucker bought it.


4. What is meant by a dropped waist?

All those stops at the French fry trucks had to have some consequences.  The doctor told me to watch my weight…. so I put it out in front, where I can keep an eye on it.  I put a roof over the tool-shed.
5. What is a yoke collar?

See number 1, above.  Wifey says, ‘You think you’re going to wear a tie with little dollar signs and dollar bills to the funeral of a Catholic nun who swore an oath of poverty??  Is that some kind of yoke joke?’
6. What is meant by pigeon toed?

That’s the hottest, most recent, culinary trend, already replacing smash-burgers.  Instead of the usual turners, cooks are using three-prong garden scuffles to flip patties.  It leaves a birds-foot-like impression, and three holes that cheese can melt and sink into.
7. How many pleats are in a kilt?

I don’t know about you, but I just need one big one, in the front.
8. What is bias binding?

That was an explicit BDSM passage from 50 Shades of Grey.  And then he put a blindfold on her, and fed her strawberries as she lay on the floor….  No, no!  That was from 9-1/2 Weeks.
9. What is Velcro?

I’m not sure.  Why don’t you stick around while I do a bit of quick research?  Don’t tear yourselves away.
10. What is twill webbing?

That’s an adroit, multi-tasking Scotsman, surfing the Internet while playing the bagpipes.

 

Flash Fiction #261

PHOTO PROMPT© Roger Bultot

WHO’S THAT KNOCKING AT MY DOOR?

I took Psychology as a major, and got a job as an Uber-Eats driver.  The two fit like pliers handles.  The most intriguing are hotels/motels.  I knock on the door and often get, Who is it?  I wanna say, it’s your damned pizza.  Who were you expecting?

With a glimpse inside some rooms, the answer might be – a hooker, Border Patrol, irate management, FBI, an exorcist priest, or all of the above.  Many of the paranoid use the peephole.  Sometimes I put my eye about an inch from the lens.  Once, I had to slide the pizza in vertically.

***

I’m keeping notes.  I’m pretty sure there’s a bestseller in there somewhere.  😉  😯

***

If you’d like to join the fun, go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Click the title to hear The Genies do another oldie but moldy goldie.

Patient One-Liners

I had my patience tested….
….I’m negative.

Is there rehab for gossiping?….
….I don’t need it, but I’ll tell you does.

The sign on the brothel door said….
….Beat it, we’re closed.

If at first you don’t succeed….
….We have a lot in common.

I f***ing love asterisks….
….I swear by them.

I’m writing a book about hurricanes and tornadoes….
….So far it’s just a draft.
….That first draft really blew me away.

How did the preacher get people to have faith in his words?….
….He became a scientist.

I hope Elon Musk never gets into a scandal….
….Elon-gate is too drawn-out.

A fine is a tax for doing wrong….
….A tax is a fine for doing well

My friend Jack claims that he can talk to vegetables….
….Jack and the beans talk.

Those who get too big for their britches….
….Will be exposed in the end.

Why do bagpipers walk while they play?….
….To get away from the noise.

Nobody thought that Mel Gibson could play a Scot, but look at him now….
….Alcoholic, and a racist.

The three worst blogging mistakes….
….1: Overpromising
….2: Underdelivering

Banks should do a better job of keeping their ATMs filled….
….I went to five today, and they all said Insufficient Funds.

Misspell one word, and the whole text is….
….Urined.

My psychiatrist said that I was immature, so I said I wanted a second opinion….
….He said that I was also delusional.

I have the memory of an elephant….
….I saw it at the zoo.

You know what always catches my eye?….
….Short people with umbrellas.

Lazy person fact #4348791….
….You’re too lazy to read that number.

Pluto just had a party….
….He didn’t even planet.

A man with schizophrenia walked into a bar….
….He bumped into nothing, because the bar is not real.

How do you walk a dog with no legs?….
….Hit him with the first pitch.

All The Languages Of The World

I am so glad that my blog-buddy, BrainRants made me aware of The Expanse series.  I have been reading the books and, not quite as quickly, watching the TV programs for several years.  It is a great epic series, not just because I love Sci-Fi, but because the writers provide tons of eclectic detail to flesh out the story arc, and the characters.

Two male writers, taking a cue from their mentor, George R. R. Martin – he of Game Of Thrones fame – and/or J. R. R. Tolkien, publish as James S. A. Corey, when neither of them is James, nor Corey.  As male authors, they have created at least four powerful, well-defined female characters.

The depth and breadth of their knowledge, which they work into the books is awe-inspiring – especially (for me) the linguistics.  Millions have gone into space, and many are mining the asteroid belt.  People move around on Earth, and the language where they migrate to slowly changes, but remains basically the same.

There was no Native Tongue in the Belt, so a new language, called Belta, has come into existence.  It includes some sign language, for folks encased in space suits, who can be seen but not heard.  The spoken language is mostly English, with additions and admixtures of American Spanish from Pittsburgh to Patagonia, Portuguese, German, French, Italian, Maori, Japanese, Chinese, Indonesian, and more.

Every chapter brings examples of words and expressions that impress the Hell out of me, or drive me to dictionary or search-engine sites.  Remember, Belta is like Star Trek’s Klingon.  It is a non-existent language that these two are completely creating themselves.  The fact that I’m at least a year behind the avid fan readers, means that I sometimes reach a site where others have gone for explanations.

Recently, I hit four words on two pages that I needed to research.  One of the asteroids described, was not an asteroid, but rather, a collection of rocks with enough common gravity to hold them together, but not enough pressure to coalesce into a single unit.  Like a bag of giant marbles – without the bag.

The writers described it as a Duniyaret.  The Hindi word duniyah means ’world,’ and the Hindi word ret means ‘sand, or gravel.’  They had created a neologism in a foreign language, to describe this conglomeration of rocks.  A habitat had been created on the biggest chunk, by welding together, what were essentially steel shipping containers, at a slight angle to one another, to bend around the curve.  The authors called this “town”, Nakliye, a Turkish word that means ‘shipping.’

On the next page, I found a blazon – from heraldry, a patch or badge, often worn on lapel or sleeve, indicating owning or belonging, especially with good qualities.  When we affix such a marker, we use the slightly more-common word, emblazon.

The residents drank water that was hyper-distilled.  At first, I thought it might be like double-distilled whiskey, but the Hyper, in this case, refers to Hyperion, the Titan that the Greeks believed was the father of the sun.  They didn’t waste precious power, but used a large parabolic solar-collector, aimed at the distant sun.  I had trouble researching this term, because the search engines kept throwing up an American company named “Hyper Distillation,” which is not the same thing.

The UN Space Navy had an Admiral named Souther.  I was reminded of J. D. Souther, a singer/songwriter from Detroit, who influenced Glen Frey of The Eagles, to compose country-lite style.  I had assumed that the basis for the name was someone originally from the South of England – a southerner.  Imagine my surprise when I found that the name is occupational, coming from old English/old French soutere – a boot or shoe – therefore meaning a cobbler.

I have cobbled together a little more click-bait to lure you in.  Drop by in a couple of days, to see where my mind has gone without me.  😎  🌯

’21 A To Z Challenge – D

 

It was the dark of the moon on the 6th of June, in a Kenworth, haulin’ logs.
Actually, it wasn’t.  I only put that in because I just watched a YouTube video of C.W.McCall doing that old CB truckers’ song, Convoy.

It was dark and early Monday morning, two weeks ago.  The sun had not begun to complain about having to rise, to start another work-week for those lucky enough to still have jobs.  I had just published a ‘21 A To Z Challenge post for the letter C.

Remember, you need another post for D in two weeks, and you don’t have anything started.  You have a

DEADLINE

Deadline, schmedline….  That’s 14 days away.  I’ll come up with something.
Tuesday passed in a glorious flash of a Netflix movie and a bowl of popcorn, with a couple of books for a chaser.
Wednesday, I published a post with some words about words.
Deadline threw me a withering glance, like a woman scorned.
You do remember I’m here, don’t you??  You never do anything with me anymore!

I just had a look at Rochelle’s 100-word picture prompt.  I can’t do a thing with it.  I’ll have to figure something to post on Friday.  We’ll go dancing tomorrow, okay?

Thursday slipped into Friday, as I readied and published a back-patting, self-congratulatory post about reviewing another blogger’s book. I basked in the glow of admiration from thousands hundreds maybe 10 or 12 viewers, while Deadline paced back and forth, muttering about suing for alienation of affection.

THERE’S ALWAYS THE WEEKEND….  With 11 years of practice at being retired, the only way I even knew it was late-Sunday/early-Monday again, was that neighbors put out garbage.  I put ours out, and then published a comedy post.
Deadline built a voodoo doll, and was reading a book of incantations.

You know that there’s only one week left, right?  Get off your ass, and get on the keyboard.
That was the last pre-fabricated comedy post I had in reserve.  I’ll assemble 4 more from my Blog Notes stash of jokes tomorrow; then I’ll get right at that D post.

Tuesday – I had an inspiration, and started writing a post about polarization in American politics and religion.
Deadline – tick, tick, tick!!

Wednesday – I published a post with more words, about more words, and started another one to replace it.
DeadlineCan Archon come out and play?
I’m sorry.  He’s had one COVID shot, but apparently he’s suffering a bad case of procrastination.  I smacked him with a calendar, but he just sits there, looking even more stunned than usual.  Maybe tomorrow.

BANG, BANG BANG!!
Open up right now!  This is Deadline, and I have a warrant to search for any sign of a theme, or creative writing.
Thursday already??!  Why the Hell didn’t somebody tell me that I need a post ready by Sunday night?  None of the D words in my file seem appetizing.  I guess I’ll have to do another of those, “If you can’t fix it – Feature it” posts.  I could do one about meeting a deadline.

DeadlineBless you my son.  Say five Robert Heinleins, and have a bottle of sacramental wine while you compose.  You’re still a lazy ass – just not all the time.   😉   😳

ROM

A blog-friend has asked me to read a book.
Okay.  I’ve got lots of experience; in fact, I’m reading three of them, right now.

Read Our Manuscript

She wants me to read Her book, Kevin: Murder Beneath The Pines.  Our fellow-blogger, the lovely KayJai, has published her third book, and wants me to read and review it.  I am honored and willing, if somewhat under-qualified.

This will be the sixth such book that I have read.  The first was for an author in Washington.  I did a terrible job, because I thought I knew what I was doing – but didn’t.  I have read four for BrainRants, who made it a lot easier, and more logical.  You can’t put colored pencil marks on a digital copy, so he sent all of his in a Word file with numbered lines.

Don’t ever attempt to do your own proof-reading.  Get someone else – preferably three other people.  When you read your own work, you will see what your mind expects to see, and errors that might irk readers can sneak through.

This book is not yet Great Literature.  She is still on a learning curve.  For what it is, the third attempt by a busy lady, it is a delightful little murder mystery, suitable to be discussed at a book club meeting, or a knitting circle.  It begins with a Dilbert-like glimpse at office politics, but soon devolves into a look at darkness, not only in the deep, piney woods, but in the hearts and souls of men.  Small-town characters have to learn to deal with big-city-type crime, and its after-effects on the survivors.

If you are writing, or thinking of writing a book, and need/want a Beta-reader, I am usually available.  My forte is the words, and usage, and construction, and punctuation.  I am not so insightful or helpful with plot, story arc or character development, although I often have some opinions.

Well, enough about me.  Now it’s your turn – to provide emotional support by returning soon to read my next post.

’21 A To Z Challenge – B

Back in the old days, you young whippersnappers, I occasionally published ‘Remember When’ posts, to pump up my older readers’ nostalgia, and show the younger ones what they may be fortunate to have missed.

This year, for the letter B, I’ve decided to rant and rave about the

BANDERSNATCH

an imaginary wild animal of fierce disposition.

a person of uncouth or unconventional habits, attitudes, etc., especially one considered a menace, nuisance, or the like.

The word was coined, with the first meaning, about 1855 by the Anglican Deacon, the Reverend Charles Dodgson, hiding his identity as the author Lewis Carroll.  Hide he should!  He wrote about fantastical, imaginary creatures, and strange words that didn’t exist.  In his Alice in Wonderland books, he has poor Alice eating magic mushrooms, and drinking absinth-like liquids which distort her perceptions and cause hallucinations, making her to seem to shrink and grow.  The good pastor was a drug fiend.

From the original meaning has come the more recent value, and much of it may be due to recreational drug use.  Nostalgiac and déjà vu terms for these people might include miscreant, or ruffian.  Today’s paper printed three Op-Ed letters, and they were all about people who litter, especially the community trails.

One woman says that she and her husband go out (properly masked) for walks together.  Each of them takes a store-issued plastic bag.  They don’t get a block away, before both are stuffed full of picked-up trash.  There are garbage pails each block, where the trail crosses a street, yet these lazy swine can’t wait even that long.  Some clean up after their dogs…. and then toss the compostable bags into the undergrowth.  Some of them hang up on bushes, making them look like Bizarro Christmas trees.

Forty years ago, one of the city’s mottos was, Kitchener – Klean As A Kitchen.  More recently, one of the local newspaper wags has suggested, Kitchener – Klean As A Kow-shed.  Spanking unruly children is no longer allowed, but I’d like to take a few of these Bandersnatches out behind the woodpile, and introduce their posteriors to a good length of flat maple.  Would you like to watch the YouTube video?  👿