Occupied On Fibbing Friday

Christine, of Stine Writing, threw Pensitivity101 a curve ball in the comments on this post about occupations, so she decided to go with that for the final FF of 2022.

My alternatives on these are!

1. What is a dentist?

He’s a husband/boyfriend who’s been exiled to sleep on the couch in the rec-room/family room, and usually has no idea what he said or did to rate the sentence – but is happy to enjoy a day or two of delicious silence.

2. What is a paralegal?

It’s a husband and wife law firm, where they argue about how to best split the fees, not only for bragging rights, but for maximum tax avoidance.

3. What is a Nanny?

That’s my Grandma – and she’ll have no nonsense from you.  Sit down quiet and eat your oatmeal porridge.  There’s sheep to shear, and tartans to be wove.

4. What is an auditor?

Male or female, they are the long-suffering clerks who, in short shifts, man the Returns Counter at Marks and Sparks, the week after Christmas.  They’ve heard it all before, and believe none of it.  “No ma’am, you may not return that (horrid) jumper without a sales receipt.  Even if we allowed it, you may only get an exchange, not a cash refund.  And besides, you cow, your generous gift-giver got it at Value Village.

5. What is a programmer?

He’s any normal male with a TV remote control.  Women use a remote to find out what’s on television.  Guys use it to find out what else is on.  512 channels – Click, Click, Click, Click….

6. What is a cartographer?

She’s the Natalie nattily-dressed (or He is the spiffy-dressed, don’t ask – don’t tell) airline flight attendant who seems to have been sampling the bar, before she/he wields that drink trolley like a weapon down the aisle, ramming unsuspecting knees and crushing toes.

7. What is a musician?

A Music Ian is the unofficial titled bestowed on a poor (or so we claim) Scotsman – too often a Stewart – who is dragooned into establishing the order that pipe bands will perform at Military Tattoos.   He’s LIKE a Geordie, only with administrative OCD.  Some bands want to be first, to make that all-important first impression.  Others demand to be the closing act, to be best remembered.  At least it’s all done with tablets or lap-tops these days, and disputes are no longer settled with claymores.

8. What is a cordwainer?

He is a misguided Eco-Warrior who eschews heating his home with fuel oil or natural gas.  Instead, he spews his CO2 into the air by burning pieces of trees.  Near the end of a particularly long and cold winter, his pile of dried firewood is dwindling quickly, and he’s trying to figure out how he might surreptitiously add his neighbour’s garden shed.

9. What is a taxidermist?

It is any London cab-driver, what with the pea-soup fog, interspersed with blinding rain.  They had to invent Satnav for the immigrant drivers.  Star Wars came as no surprise to the old guard.  Use the force, Luke!  Use the force – to figure out where the bloody Hell we are in this garden-maze of streets.  I think they drive by sense of smell.  Charred steak-and-kidney pie??  Must be the Drunken Crow pub.  Turn right here.

10. What is a penciller?

The last of a dying breed, soon to be extinct – the actual, live editor.  He is found now only at the most upscale of publishing firms, having been replaced elsewhere by SpellCheck, GrammarCheck and Grammarly.  But Artificial Intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.

He scans manuscripts with an eagle eye, and a handful of coloured pencils, speaking/writing a strange, arcane language – lede, stet, dele.  Our hoped-for perfect submission is returned, looking like a kindergartner’s art project – black, green, red – add this, take out that, spell this.

Beware if it is adorned with blue pencil.  That means you’ve used salacious language which is not allowed, unless you’re writing a sequel to 50 Shades of Grey, or a porno movie plot.  The doorbell rang.  Clad only in a shorty robe, the voluptuous young housewife answered the door.  It was the handsome young pool-cleaner.  🙂

Flash Fiction #290

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

PARIS WHEN IT SIZZLES

I have the best anti-car-theft system.  I bought the world’s ugliest car.  Guys with BMWs won’t even park on the same block, lest parts fall off and hit their cars.

I combat Global Warming by installing an electric engine, but I can’t find an extension cord long enough to get to work, and out-of-town trips are impossible.

I ran it on flashlight batteries for a while, but cleaned out local suppliers.  Plus, there was the detour going home, to drop dead ones at the recycle center.

I added a Honda gasoline generator to charge the batteries.  Now it’s an eco-hybrid.

***

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

Tweets For Twits – Just Deserts Course

If you didn’t know yet, God is on Twitter.  He has a few more things to say about the human condition, which He takes no blame or responsibility for.

In an ideal scenario, the President of The United States, and the worst person in the world, would be two different people.

I genuinely can’t remember making you all this stupid.

To paraphrase me: Being gay is not a choice.
Being an asshole is.

America: Where a black man can’t take a knee on a football field for 30 seconds, but a cop can take a knee on his neck for eight minutes.

Most people who doubt a woman’s claim of assault, do NOT doubt that I had a son who rose from the dead.

You should not vaccinate your children – unless you are absolutely sure that you want them to live.

Next time, no people.

There is life in outer space, and it is intelligent, and that’s why it is staying far from you.

If gay people are a mistake, they’re a mistake that I’ve made hundreds of millions of times, which proves I’m incompetent, and cannot be relied on for anything.

The idea that you evolved from apes is disgusting.
Isn’t it nicer to believe that you all descended from one couple and their incestuous children??!

Just because Jesus died for your sins doesn’t mean that you should keep committing them, assholes.

THE FIVE STAGES OF CLIMATE CHANGE
Denial
Guilt
Depression
Acceptance
Drowning

Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day.
Teach a man to fish and he’ll contribute to the global over-depletion of the oceans.
So give him a salad, maybe??!

The answer to the question, “Can people really be that stupid?” is always yes!

If you can’t get along with CANADA, you’re not human.

Standing up for what you believe in isn’t a virtue, if what you believe in is awful.

I am now the most unverified account on Twitter, and the biggest unverified entity in the Universe.

150 different species go extinct every day.
You keep not being one of them.

Six feet away, or six feet under.

I apologise for this virus interrupting the global catastrophe already in progress.

Saying “guns don’t kill people” is like saying “defibrillators don’t save people.”

Artificial Intelligence is not a threat to Humanity.  Natural stupidity is!

Somewhere in China, there’s a bat getting high-fives from every other animal he meets.

It’s only been a short time, but Steven Hawking has already proven, to My Face, that I don’t exist.

Fuck you!

Marriage is between a man and a woman – except gay marriage, obviously.

The people who call out my name Sunday morning aren’t as much fun as the ones who call it out Saturday night.

These are not His final words, just the last ones in this post.

’20 A To Z Challenge – Folly

HANNIBAL WAS CROSS

‘Tis folly to be wise

Call it Climate Change.  Call it Global Warming.  Call it Shit Happens.  Call it anything you want, but Charlie was beginning to believe some of the stories that Grampa told about growing up in this little mountain hamlet.

Yes sir, I had to walk 5 miles to school –each way – uphill both ways – against the wind…. And in the winter??! – snow was as high as an elephant’s….

Eye, Grampa??

Asshole, boy!  Asshole!

I had to make skis out of staves from a pickle barrel, and use icicles for poles.  Snow was so high I had to climb out the attic window.

There’d been no elephants in mountains, until Hannibal crossed the Alps, and They didn’t run through Montana.  As a site-designer, he was happy to ‘work from home’ after graduating, in the village he’d been born in.  Mom hadn’t even gone to the hospital in Helena – just popped him out in a sterilized bathtub.

The smart ones had been those who moved down with friends and relatives in the foothills, when the snow really started piling up.  When the Pastor/Mayor/Police Department had been notified that the plows weren’t getting through, and officials had no idea when that might happen, he suggested that everyone bring all their food to the church.

They’d rigged a flexible plastic tube from the air-conditioner vent, over the cliff.  That, and a small fan pointed up the spire gave them and the small generator enough air to breath.  The village weirdo geek had rigged a repeater/router to the lightning rod.  The cell tower further up the mountain, was only up to its knees in snow, so they had phones and internet.  The snow had drifted up and over the church, until only the steeple protruded, like a FOLLY.  It helped to insulate it, even as it locked them in.

It was a cozy little group of 14, although, if someone didn’t pry young Billy McCabe and the Winchell girl apart, there’d be 15 by the time they were released.  There were worse ways to spend a winter.  Guess the best thing to do is what Grampa suggested.  Just close the log cabin door to the snow, and don’t come out till spring.

WAIT!  WHAT??  Log Cabin??  I thought you said that you climbed out an attic window.

Don’t be a smart-ass, boy!  Nobody likes a smart-ass.  😳

Flash Fiction #217

PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

IDENTITY THEFT

Where are we going??

It is not wise to ask. We are going to have our identities removed.

What? Why??!

After the Holy Trump – Blessed be His Name – escaped the seditious impeachment trap set by his enemies, He appointed himself Emperor for Life and decreed that there would be no more division and dissent among his People.

His thoughts would be our thoughts. There would be no more Red States or Blues States, only Orange States, to worship his Divine Hair. Fake news was outlawed, climate change conspiracy was crushed, and He holds our Peace in His tiny manly hands.

***

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

Facts And Friction

From the beginning, I have worked to improve my proficiency with the English language, simply to please me.  There was a time when I hoped that, by knowing the details and nuances, I would be able to communicate easier and more clearly.  As I added the study of psychology, I realized that my goal would never be attained.  Communication is two-sided.  It is not just what I say, and how clearly I say it, it depends even more on the mental filter of the person who receives the information.  What we “hear” is influenced strongly by what we already believe.  Democrats hear that Republicans are interfering fools.  Muslims hear that Jews are treacherous, heathen, baby-eaters.  Some Crackers still hear that Niggers are sub-humans.

This head-in-the-sand, hear only what makes you feel good, attitude extends across the entire social interaction spectrum, but is worst in the political and religious arenas.  Only a couple of years ago, “Global Warming” was the buzzword.  There were those who would have had our countries bankrupt themselves to solve this “manmade” problem.  Steadily though, it was found that – this study was flawed – that report was biased – this data was manufactured….by Believers who wanted us, to believe as they did.  Now, “Climate Change” is the new term, and Nature is the culprit.  It seems that the Chicken Littles were a bit overzealous.  The handbasket isn’t heading for Hell quite as fast, and mankind’s actions aren’t pushing it as hard as they claimed.

My current computer skills are pretty much limited to, Push On button, Poke keyboard randomly, Hope for the best.  Thirteen years ago they weren’t even that good, so I didn’t have enough information to evaluate the Y2K threat.  It seemed to me though, that the panic was being propagated by the usual gullible, who will believe the worst, at the best of times, and the guys selling bottled water, MREs, and Honda generators.  The year 2000 came and went with only a whisper, and lots of want-ads for cheap generators, “Never used.”

The ones who saddened me the most, were the Good Christians, convinced of the imminent return of their savior because of some arbitrary number.  The first problem with their belief was the fact that they couldn’t count.  The end of the second millennium was the end of the year 2000, not the beginning.  That’s why the title of Arthur C. Clarke’s book is 2001, A Space Odyssey.  Christ’s birthday isn’t on Dec. 25^th.  Even if it were, the rapture would occur on Christmas, not the following New Year’s Day.

The next problem was, the calendar-keeping monks in the Middle Ages couldn’t count either.  They lost a bunch of years.  Best scientific estimate is that Jesus was born on April 16, 4 BC, so the Millennium had already come and gone like Y2K, quietly, un-noticed.

One day at work, there was a mechanical problem with some of the equipment and the line was down while Maintenance repaired it.  Four of the women, all in their twenties, huddled around an inspection table, deep in discussion about something.  After a while I wandered over to hear what had them so engrossed.  I thought maybe someone was having a baby.  I heard, “I go to Our Lady of the Off-ramp, and say a hundred Hail Marys.”  “Well, I go to the Sacred Heart of the Down-town Butcher, and say two hundred Our Fathers.”  Another says, “Oh!  I go to the Blessed Sacrament of Veterinarians, and say five hundred Novenas.”  They’re all worried about the anticipated return, and working like Hell (Oops), to get off the naughty list, and onto the nice one.

The Newfy girl, who lived down the street from me, looked up and asked what church I went to.  I told her I didn’t, because I don’t believe in churches.  “Well, if you don’t believe in God, where do you think we go, when we die?”  I didn’t say I don’t believe in God, just that I don’t believe in Churches.  “Why not?”  Because they’re full of consistently wrong people like the one who just misinterpreted my answer, and who want me to live my life according to their mistaken opinions.  I regaled them with the above information about incorrect dates, to lift their fears.  Deer in the headlights time.  It never occurred to them that they might be wrong, and I could almost feel the denial.

I should have stopped there and shut my mouth.  I should have known better, but, the question had been asked, so I answered it as I saw things.  Her mental picture of Heaven was different from mine and from each of her three friends, and the official Church view, so, if she went to Heaven, it wouldn’t be what she anticipated.  Science, often declared an enemy of the church, even when it doesn’t want to be, says that there are dimensions that we humans don’t experience.  Perhaps when we die, that’s where we go to live(?), and meet God.

Then I committed my worst faux pas.  I suggested that, when we die, maybe we just die.  She persisted, “But where do we go?”  Like Spock, from Star Trek, it was an exercise in pure logic, but neither she, nor the other gals was ready for it.  They wanted reassurance, not logic.  I answered, “Maybe, like the light, we just flicker out, and don’t shine anymore.”  I could have kicked their puppy and they wouldn’t have looked as sad and disappointed.

I felt badly for them, and sorry for upsetting four already apprehensive young women.  Any of my readers who are disturbed by this tale, please remember, your belief (opinion) is as valid as mine.  I only ask for the right to hold my opinion until God tells me it’s wrong.