Smitty’s Loose Change #19

Ding-dong!  The wicked witch of COVID lockdowns is dead – or at least mortally wounded.  Someone threw a pail of hand-sanitizer on her.  Earlier in August, I spent an exciting weekend.  On Saturday, we attended the celebration of the wife’s aunt/godmother’s 100th birthday.  Now I have a goal to shoot for.

On the Sunday, I attended an al fresco meeting of the Free Thinkers, in the park.  Damn the Woke Generation!!  In conversation, as I do in my blog-posts, I mentioned, “The Wife.”  A feminist jumped all over me for using that expression, “like she was just some object.  You should refer to her as, ‘My wife”

A male, unasked, unwanted and unneeded, came to my rescue by saying that the term My Wife’ could indicate ownership and control.  Damned if I do.  Damned if I don’t!  Whatever happened to ‘Just keep your damned mouth shut?’

***

An overnight success, after twenty years in the business

Musical archeologists, searching for the lost Ark of the Goldie-Oldies, recently dug up what may be one of the earliest examples of PC/Woke.  They unearthed the 1961 novelty song, My boomerang won’t come back by Charlie Drake.

“My Boomerang” is not exactly a paragon of political correctness, even by 1961 standards. In the song an Aboriginal meeting is described as a “pow-wow”—something more appropriate for Native Americans—while their chanting sounds more African than Aboriginal. (Oddly, many of the Aboriginal speakers in the song have either American or British accents.) Most of all, Drake raised eyebrows with the chorus: “I’ve waved the thing all over the place/practised till I was black in the face/I’m a big disgrace to the Aborigine race/My boomerang won’t come back!”

After the BBC refused to play the tune (despite its popularity in record shops), a new version was recorded, substituting “blue in the face.”  When the song was initially released in the USA it also contained the “black in the face” lyric which was shortly changed to “blue.”

***

The word “monosyllable”…. has five syllables.

***

The problem with religion right now is that it hasn’t evolved.  Instead of being open and searching for ways to be relevant in today’s world, it’s gone all defensive and protective, and it has regressed into lowest-common-denominator sound bites – and fundamentalism.

***

I recently saw a picture of a washroom at Tim Horton’s, Canada’s national coffee and doughnut shop.  The toilet brush holder was a Starbucks mug.

Tim’s provided the coffee and donut balls for the recent outdoor meeting in the park.  They sent two 1-gallon, plastic-lined cardboard flasks of coffee, two boxes of Timbits, a bag of plastic cups, lids, stir-stix, sugar, and creamers.

Down at the bottom of the bag, unasked for, and unexpected, they included a dozen metal lapel pins that read

 O Canada
Right the wrongs

apparently referring to current, Indigenous atonement proceedings.  All very commendable but – when I go to a coffee shop, I want coffee and donuts – not political statements.

I do not see as wrongs, things that Snowflakes, afflicted with White Guilt, claim as wrongs.  When Europeans came to Canada, they operated under the same legal system that the Indigenous did – Take what you need – Hold what you can.

No-one owned the land, until a government, representing several nations and cultures, laid claim.  “Survival Of The Fittest” says that those most able to adapt, are most likely to endure.  Natives were expected to join the changing society.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Many of the wise ones adapted, and became modern, productive Canadians.  The rest want to wear buckskins and feathers, whine that progress has passed them by, and party like it’s 1799.  😥

Tex-Mex One-Liners

To me, essential oils are….
….what drips out of tacos.  *

You smell great!….
….What hand sanitizer are you wearing?

Walking back to your car because you forgot your mask….
….is the new kind of pissed off.

Does it bother anyone else that the guy in the Operation game….
….was clearly awake?

I never realize how much I swear….
….until I’m in a situation where I can’t.

You’re only as pretty as….
….how you treat other people.

I have feelings for you….
….I’m not telling you which ones.

The worst part of kissing a perfect 10….
….is the cold feeling your lips get from the mirror.

Drinking coffee in the morning….
….helps others live longer.

I never finish anything….
….I have a black belt in partial arts.

I ran out of coffee this morning, so I used tequila….
….eVerYbody iS so pRetty toDay.

The only thing that is ever in bed with me….
….is crumbs.

I don’t have exes….
….I have ‘whys.’

The first five days after the weekend….
….are the hardest.

I wish I had a pair of….
….skinny genes.

If you don’t remember their name….
….take them to Starbucks.

I can’t decide if I want to go off the grid….
….or off the rails.

What I if told you….
….you read the top line wrong?

Don’t give up on your dreams….
….Keep sleeping.

Adam – to God – after seeing Eve….
….I love what you do with ribs.

When I was on the computer….
….I couldn’t find ESC, and I lost CTRL.

Fibbing Friday – V

I’m not saying it’s her fault.  I’m just saying that I’m blaming her.  With the reluctant agreement of Pensitivity101, here’s another list of questions looking for entertaining answers.

  1. What is a skiff?
    A skiff is a lie that Environment Canada tells us. We’ll have a skiff of snow overnight. Meanwhile, I’ve still got six inches of yesterday’s ‘partly cloudy’ to shovel off the driveway.


2. What is a liner?

Liner is the stuff that drag-queen, RuPaul, paints on above his eyes, to confuse naïve, Radar O’Reilly-like corn-huskers who didn’t get to watch the ‘Crocodile Dundee’ movie in sex-education class.
3. What is a ferry?

See above – if you don’t already have your hands over your eyes.
4. What is a destroyer?

It’s a fat, arrogant, French-Canadian, wearing a Speedo, at any of the beaches in the southern United States.  Talk about having your hands over your eyes….  😳  Smoking like it’s mandatory, always complaining about some nit-picky detail, getting regular treatment and attention, but always demanding more – and in difficult-to-understand, heavily accented English.  COVID has been a boon to the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida.  If that hadn’t occurred, Americans might have re-elected Trump, just to demand that he build a wall across the Quebec/US border.
5. What is a cruiser?

It’s a guy like my co-worker, Bob.  If you’re not going to have sex, you might as well get married, and not have it at home.  I think he has eye problems, or maybe ‘I’ problems.  There is not enough tequila in any bar, to drink this man sexually attractive.  He’s been turned down more times than the beds at Holiday Inn – and probably by the same women.  He said that he was thinking of signing up for the Bill Cosby School of Charm.  😈
6. What is a galleon?

A galleon is what I used to have someone else pump into my car to make it go, back before we went metric.  I lost Imperial measurement, but apparently gained an unpaid job of pumping my own gas.  It’s been 40 years, and I still don’t know how much I put in.  I just know it costs more.

When things go metric, prices rise.
Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise!!
7. What is a pedlow?

Any one of a disturbing, disgusting group of Catholic priests who think that ‘pump-organ’ is not what the church music director plays.  They mistakenly believe that they are school teachers, and if sex education of altar-boys and choir girls is not on the curriculum, it’s on the agenda.
8. What is a kayak?

A kayak is an Eskimo sport-ute.  It’s what the Inuit use in the drive-thru at the Aklavik Tim Horton’s.  They have to be careful to hold the hot coffee with one hand in their fur-lined mitten, while they paddle away with the other.  Most kayaks are not yet fitted with cup-holders, and they can’t just set it down on any ice-floe, because it will melt right through.
9. What is a schooner?

As the most interesting man in the world, I don’t always drink beer, but when I do, I want a king-can of dark ale in a schooner fresh from the fridge or freezer.  In my tourist haven home-town, where I first drank draught/draft beer, it was served cold!  That’s what I got used to.

I once met a man from Kitchener, ON, my current home, who claimed to have conducted a scientific experiment.  He drank beer at every watering hole from here to Tobermory, 3-1/2 hours drive, at the tip of the Bruce Peninsula.  He claimed that the hotel bar in my home town served the coldest beer.  Much as I’d like to, I’ll never get the chance to visit England/Scotland, and try some great, but warm, beer.
10. What is a coracle?

She was a fortune-teller who lived in the Temple of Apollo, near the city of Delphi, in ancient Greece.  She was known as the coracle of Delphi.  The temple is a ruin now, but even back then, it had a leak in the basement.  It was built over a volcanic vent, where hot gases filtered up through a layer of soil containing crude oil.

She would sit on a stool over the vent, inhaling the fumes and chewing a laurel leaf – which was mildly psychoactive – like an Hellenic Eight-ball.  It was sort of like modern kids who huff model glue, or propane.  Then she would make crystal-clear, absolutely true predictions, like – If you drive a Jeep Rubicon, and vote for Trump, a great empire will fall.

Actually, there was a whole string of these coracles, like a tiny temporal armada – because constantly perching on a hot petroleum spill gave them the average life expectancy of a Madame Curie.  😯

Flash Fiction #251

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS

I just sat down at the kitchen table, when the wife called from the bedroom, where she was battling a cold.

Honey, could you make me a Keurig coffee?

When I deliver it….

I’m bored, and I left my Kindle downstairs.  Could you get it?

Could I have the Butterscotch-flavored creamer?

I have a headache.  Would you get me two Aleve?

I can’t take these with hot coffee.  Would you bring me some cold water?

I should know better than to sneak some ice-cream.  What isn’t dripping off the table and being licked up by the dogs, is strawberry soup.  😯

***

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

Flash Fiction #250

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

THE LONG, SLOW CLIMB

When is a Starbucks not a Starbucks?  When it’s right across the street from the city hall, but in a building that’s designated Historic, on which they can’t hang any exterior signs.

He’d studied welding in Community College, till he found out about clothing fires, toxic fumes, and blindness from ‘welders’ eye.’  Waiting for his barista betrothed, he was soon as adept as any employee, and was quickly hired, himself.

COVID slashed their hours and income in half, but it did give him free time to study online, as a Civil Engineer.  Education is the best way up and out.

***

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

Flash Fiction #246

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

ABSENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER

I never thought I’d say, ‘I wanna go back to work.’

It’s nice that the company arranged working remotely from home by computer, but, I want to go to the break room for a mug of the world’s worst coffee, or ruin my diet with a donut or cake – ‘cause it’s always someone’s birthday.  I miss the office gossip, politics, and resident weirdo.  I miss the water-cooler sports discussions, even if I hate sports.  I even miss breathe-on-you, Lecherous Lennie’s tales of barroom conquests – all the little things that used to irk me.

This “NEW NORMAL” is getting old, fast.

***

Want to join the Friday Fictioneers fun??  Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

The Better To See You With My Dear

TURNABOUT IS FAIR PLAY!

In case you wonder how I got to be a Grumpy Old Dude – let’s take a quick…. Uh, slow trip through Bureaucroland.

I had three operations on one eye last year – a retina tack, a new, plastic lens installed because of developing cataracts, and a laser scrub when the new lens went cloudy.

Worsening cataracts on both the wife’s eyes were making reading and knitting difficult, and they’re a big part of her life.

Shortly after my third treatment, late last year, the wife finally got an assessment appointment with my specialist.  It was decided that she rated an operation on each eye.  When COVID19 erupted, what should have been a 3 to 4 month wait for a surgical theater, stretched to almost a year.

Finally, recently, we got a call from the Ophthalmologist’s office, giving a date, but telling us we’d have to wait for a time-of-day scheduling.  After another 2-week wait, they called again to tell us that the wife would be the first operation of the day at 9 AM, and to have her to the hospital by 7 o’clock.

For a guy who normally goes to bed at 5 AM, this was not optimal.  Don’t you have something after lunch??  We had some discussion about me sitting in a waiting room for 3 to 5 hours, during COVID.  The day before the operation, the hospital called and said that I would have to remain outside somewhere, until I was called.

The second wave of COVID has rolled into the Region.  We had a one-day count, higher than any day in April.  We worried that the surgery might get cancelled.  It was to be on Thursday.  As of Monday, the Region went to Red-status.

In the first wave, many of the most vulnerable – the elderly, the youngsters, and the breathing-impaired – had died.  In this wave, while the numbers were up, most of them were hardy young partiers who could tough it out in quarantine at home.  The hospitals were actually less busy.  Everything was still a go.

I dropped the wife off shortly before 7, and went back home and got another hour or so of sleep, before they called at 9:40.  I went back to get her, and parked in the pickup lane, by the front door.  👿

The Provincial Government has ordered that masks must be worn to enter any business.  I put mine on, and approached the door, to be met by a Security Guard who insisted that I douse my hands with antiseptic gel.  Then I had to stand back six feet from the woman who entered directly behind me, but who couldn’t seem to operate a pump dispenser.

Next I was ordered to use my newly-sanitised hands to remove my Government-mandated mask, and install a single-use paper one, issued by the hospital.  Finally, I was able to break free and head across the lobby towards the elevators.  Suddenly, a young woman, not wearing a hospital uniform or identity tag, stepped in front of me – well within my 6-foot (Cdn. 2 meters) safety distancing space. I almost knocked her over.

She said something.  I thought she asked why I had come to the hospital.  I answered that I had got a call to pick up the wife.  Oh, no, this is the safety interrogation – the special extended hospital version.

Did I have….
any fever – No
a cough – No
shortness of breath – No
aches or pains – No
loss of taste or smell – No

In the last 6 months – 6 weeks – 6 days – 6 hours…. Did I leave – the country – the Province – my home – my bedroom?  Did I travel to – Hong Kong – Bora Bora – Yucatan – Iceland?  Had I ever had toenail fungus?  Was my Mother left-handed?   no, No, NO, NO!, NO!  Finally, she came to a stop…. I thought.  I stepped past her and headed for the elevators….Sir? I’m not finished.  YOU ONLY THINK YOU”RE NOT FINISHED!

I went up in the elevator to the surgery floor and got off.  The ‘can’t-be-used’ waiting room was to my left, and the surgery suite was behind a locked door to my right.  Perhaps they’ve put a clerk in the waiting room.  I poked my head around the corner.  Three men were sitting in it??!  Two of them simultaneously asked me. “Are you George?/Are you John?”  “No, I’m confused, and grumpy, and it’s getting worse by the second.”

A passing nurse let me into the recovery area.  I collected the wife, and headed back out.  In the hallway to the front door, the wife asked if I would get her a Tim Horton’s Coffee.  There’s an outlet directly beside the main door…. Behind a slalom obstacle course of bollards and straps and signs.  ENTER HERE, EXIT HERE, despite the fact that there was no-one at the counter.

I managed to get to the order window, and the perky little perk-server said, “Sir, please use some hand sanitizer,”  The stuff I slathered on, eight feet away, and five minutes ago, still hasn’t dried on my hands.  I said, “I just did!”  “Sir, please apply some more, to enter the coffee shop.”  You know, the wife didn’t really want a coffee that bad – at least that’s what I told her when I went back.  “Have a nice day, sir.”  OH…. It’s Wayyy too late for that.  👿

And I’ve got another one to look forward to in January.   😯

I Smell A Rat

I trapped, and poisoned, and locked out all the rats.  What I smell, is something completely different.

Twice, last summer and fall, our two new Scottie Terrors Terriers came back into the house at night, smelling of skunk (….only, not).  They didn’t get sprayed, but were nearby when it happened.  A quick bath for each of them and their collars, and everyone slept peacefully.

Everybody knows what a skunk looks like, and what one smells like.  The odor is sharp, acrid, bitter, nasty.  This smell was none of those; it had more like a ‘husband crawling into bed, after a baked bean dinner’ stench – almost a sweetish tinge to it.

After the second occurrence, I was in the back yard, picking up what dogs put down and – What’s this??  A chunk of dried hide, as big as my hand, with black and white fur on it…. and over there, a second piece, just as big,,,, and yet a third piece, half as big.

The wife insisted that her little angels wouldn’t eat a skunk, and we found no bones, but I don’t see any cat-sized animal losing that much skin, and surviving.  It’s a pity, too!  Skunks will eat rats, and garden slugs.  As the snow began to fall, I noticed cat-prints in it, across my driveway, up my front walk, across in front of my porch, and disappearing, because the house kept the nearby snow melted.  Probably a cat that a neighbor allows to roam.

As winter progressed, and the snow piled up nearer the house, I realized that these ‘cat-prints’ led to a hole under my concrete porch.  😯 Uh-oh!  This can’t be good!  My resident skunk was no fool.  It roamed both my neighbors’ yards, usually keeping 8-foot wooden fences between it and the too-often yappy dogs.

Skunks are nocturnal.  I flicked on the light, and opened the front door one night at 4 AM, to retrieve my ‘morning’ newspaper, and there, six feet away, was the skunk!  I quickly and quietly closed the door.  The wife went out for a coffee date with an ex-co-worker.  Just as the women returned at 3 PM, the “nocturnal” skunk retraced that earlier path, right in front of them.

They both got a good look at it.  It was definitely a skunk…. only, it wasn’t marked like a ‘skunk’, and it didn’t move in that hoppy, undulating way that skunks move.  When she got in and settled, the wife grabbed her laptop, and researched “Skunks.”


Has no natural habitat, only un-natural, like its own imagination, and Ego-sphere

This is the American Mac-and Cheese-Head skunk.  It is continually raising a big stink, but it’s usually restricted to the Washington DC, or Mar-a-Lago areas.

 

Spotted Skunk

Apparently, there are 12 kinds of skunks, several of which can exist where I live.  It couldn’t be a European Polecat.  At first we thought that it might be an Eastern Spotted Skunk that we’d spotted.  More careful study revealed that it is most likely a Hooded Skunk.

Hooded Skunk

This explains the difference in the smell of the spray.  More recently, I opened the front door again at 4 AM, and heard squeaking and squealing beneath my porch.  Either it was complaining about the new Wi-Fi password I’d installed, or I have a female, raising a litter.  👿  It’s gonna be an interesting spring.  Besides a husband who likes spicy burritos, 🌯 what do you have that creates a stench where you live?

Lying Around Again

Pinnochio

Here’s another chance to exercise your imagination muscles.  Take down the following questions.  Get some help from your friend Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill, or Donald Trump, and compose some really inventive responses.  Mine are beneath the list – and beneath belief.

  1. What are Porkies, Chorkies and Morkies?
    2. Why did the Wicked Witch of the West melt?
    3. Will Smith said ‘I have got to get me one of these’. What was he referring to?
    4. Why aren’t dumb blondes quiet?
    5. Why do they call it ‘High Tea?’
    6. What makes a banana split?
    7. What happened when the Princess kissed the frog for a second time?
    8. What goes best on rhubarb?
    9. How is the best way to serve coffee?
    10. Why are rock buns so called?

Have fun (and fib away to your heart’s content!!)

1: They’re just words that the author of this list made up to confuse us…. Attention!  Breaking news!  Scientists have just discovered that they are pretentious breeds of dogs.  They are Yorkshire Terriers, crossed with Pekinese, Chihuahuas, and Maltese Terriers – all except the Porkies.

Porky Pig

They might alternatively be – a juvenile 1981 frat-boy movie, meat pies, hats which look like the pork pies, porcupines in the American South, chubby kids – or cartoon characters, and British rhyming slang for lies – pork pies = lies – which has oozed like toxic waste from Cockney London, 500 miles north to the border of Scotland, where they already have their own ridiculous slang.

2: Because she got a look at the waiter at the grandson’s recent wedding reception.  Two of the old-enough-to-be-ashamed women at the table were drooling – and not from the food.  The son said, “He doesn’t do anything for me.”  I replied, “He might, if you asked nicely.”

3: A wife who can do a media interview without revealing all their sexual secrets.  Open marriage, three-ways, sex toys, polyamory, which their just-18 daughter thought meant having a series of boyfriends, and went on social media to extol.  Surely Will has something that he can shove in her mouth to keep her quiet.

4: Dumb blondes are like black holes, if they didn’t make noise, you’d never see them.  A lot of it is just all that hot air leaking out of their heads.  When one of them walks into a room, it’s like two normal people walk out.

5: It’s a custom that began with the British Raj in India.  The tea was brewed with marijuana leaves added.  By the time they were finished, waiters were serving through second-story windows.  It’s why Swamis think that they can levitate.

6: The arrival of a hungry orangutan.

7: She acquired a socially acceptable excuse for those genital warts.

8: I put a bag of sheep manure on ours.  ….And boy, does it grow??!  Well, that’s what that orangutan swung down out of, looking for bananas.

9: Bow, say Yes Sir a lot, and grovel, hoping that, when Coffee gains dominion over the entire world, that you’ll be awarded a position where you’ll get money for nothing, and the chicks for free.

10: Suzanne Somers called them that when she and the little waiter used to exercise together, using the ThighMaster©, and the ButtMaster©.  He used to give her makeup tips.  For those of you like me, so old that you only vaguely remember sex, but remember lunch – twice – here’s a recipe for Rock Buns, a Scottish delicacy even more mouth-watering than deep-fried oatmeal.

It’s no lie that I’ll have something a little more serious to publish in a couple of days.  Don’t be late!  The meeting is called for 1:00 AM, EST.  I’ll do a reading, and then take up a collection.   😆

A Shining Light

jack-o-lantern

I could never get my parents to buy a pumpkin for Halloween. They just made me stand in the window.
It wasn’t too bad until the candle started to burn the roof of my mouth.

The worst thing about retirement, is having to drink coffee on your own time.

Damned dyslexia! I just found that I sold my soul to Santa.

What is an alarm clock?
A small mechanical device to wake up people who have no children.

It’s not a cheaper car that people want – it’s an expensive car that costs less.

“What business are you interested in?”
“Everybody’s”

My cat can talk. I asked him how much was two minus two, and he said nothing.

Don’t complain about the traffic. If there were fewer cars on the road, it would be even harder to find a parking spot.

A man walked into a military surplus store and asked if they had camouflage pants.
“Yes,” the clerk replied, “But we can’t find them.”

My girlfriend admitted that she was once a Christian, so I broke up with her.
It may seem judgmental, but I’ve only known her since she was Christine.

I am so good at home repairs, that they have a special VIP section for me at the Emergency ward.

I ordered a bed from IKEA, and they sent me a tree trunk and a saw.

Everybody’s a tough guy – until they have to use a screwdriver overhead for two minutes.

The trouble with trends – In 15 years, people on HGTV will be saying, “All those white cupboards look terrible, and we have to put up some walls between the kitchen, dining room and living room.”

My girlfriend wants me to stain the new wooden fence in her back yard, so I’m going to eat spaghetti over it for a couple of weeks.

So, here I am, watching Property Brothers, and the lady’s “profession” is dog manager, and their budget is $750,000! What did I do wrong with my life?

Please don’t come to my garage sale if you’ve ever let me borrow something.

Movies show people kissing in the rain, but I’d just like to see a guy who’ll run out and get the cushions off the porch chairs when the weather starts kicking up.

Am I the only one watching HGTV who’s hoping that the house will exact some horrifying vengeance on those people inside?

***

Repeat Performance

Roger, 85, married Jenny, a lovely 25 year old.

Since her new husband is so old, Jenny decides that after their wedding she and Roger should have separate bedrooms, because she is concerned that her new but aged husband may over-exert himself if they spend the entire night together.

After the wedding festivities Jenny prepares herself for bed and the expected knock on the door.

Sure enough the knock comes, the door opens and there is Roger, her 85 year old groom, ready for action. They unite as one.
All goes well, Roger takes leave of his bride, and she prepares to go to sleep.
After a few minutes, Jenny hears another knock on her bedroom door, and it’s Roger,
Again he is ready for more ‘action’. Somewhat surprised, Jenny consents for more coupling.
When the newlyweds are done, Roger kisses his bride, bids her a fond good night and leaves.
She is set to go to sleep again, but, aha, you guessed it – Roger is back again, rapping on the door and is as fresh as a 25-year-old, ready for more ‘action’.
And, once more they enjoy each other.
But as Roger gets set to leave again, his young bride says to him, ‘I am thoroughly impressed that at your age you can perform so well and so often. I have been with guys less than a third of your age who were only good once. You are truly a great lover, Roger.’
Roger, somewhat embarrassed, turns to Jenny and says: ‘You mean I was here already?’