’21 A To Z Challenge – A

April’s First Challenge Post – And So It Begins.

Here’s a word that dictionaries insist doesn’t exist – but really should.

ASSHOLERY

There’s something about the X-Y chromosome that fouls many males up.  They don’t know whether they’re coming or going, so it applies mostly to boys (of all ages), although some of the fairer sex qualify.

A nearby 19-year-old was caught doing 221 Kmh in a 100 Kmh zone.  He was late for a Darwin Awards presentation.  Daddy’s Lexus was impounded for a week, and the repair bill for an overstressed engine might be as much as the hefty fines and impound fees.

A local man went downtown, to deal with a department in City Hall.  When he came back out, he could not find his white Mercedes…. with his 4-year-old son in it.  😯  He called the police.  Within minutes – and a short walk – they located…. his wife’s red Jeep, and the child safe.  He has been charged, public intoxication, care and control of a vehicle while impaired, driving over .08 (local alcohol limit), and endangering a child.  His wife is gonna be thrilled!

A man in Toronto duplexed his house.  His upstairs tenant called 9-1-1 because a carbon monoxide detector kept squealing.  Three-tiered response – police, fire and EMT – discovered 100 pounds of carfentanil, 31 pistols and two “rifles”, although one of them was a Tech-9, like the one above.  More an overgrown handgun, than a real rifle.

If guys like this had any real brains, they’d have a real job.  If you’re gonna do something that creates carbon monoxide – stop doing it – ventilate the area – disconnect the detector!  Duh!!  🙄

Donald Trump still insists that he won the 2020 election.  Of course, he also insists that he has more Grammys than Beyoncé.  Women have to own some of this assholery, because far too many of them voted for Trump, and also for Canada’s wunderkind pretty-boy Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau.  They’re the answer to Kojak’s question, “Who loves ya, baby?”

Flash Fiction #243

PHOTO PROMPT © Trish Nankivell

IT’S OVER!!

You probably wouldn’t remember
I probably couldn’t forget

The year that shouldn’t have been – but was!

Good-Goodbye 2020!  Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.  We are looking forward to the arrival of your rich, handsome replacement – 2021.

You’ve had many of us looking for brain-bleach, to erase an annum which took Mister Jeopardy! – Alex Trebek from us, but gave us COVID19, and a petulant ex-president who won’t admit defeat.  We’ll see who Secret Service believes is the real President.  tRump may get some 9MM help moving out.

I forecast a warm, rosy future.

***

Click above to hear The Steve Miller Band sing about Jungle Love.
Steve wrote the song about a girl, but the sentiments could easily apply to the present social and political situation.

But lately you live in the jungle
I never see you alone
But we need some definite answers
So I thought I would write you a poem
The question to everyone’s answer
Is usually asked from within
But the patterns of the rain and the truth they contain
Have written my life on your skin
You treat me like I was your ocean
You swim in my blood when it’s warm
My cycles of circular motion
Protect you and keep you from harm
You live in a world of illusion
Where everything’s peaches and cream
We all face a scarlet conclusion
But we spend our time in a dream

***

BTW:  The whistles that you hear, like the ones in Jackson Brown’s Loadout/Stay are a language all their own, based on whistles used by shepherds to control their herd-dogs at long distances.  The roadies (and their boss) need to communicate across large arenas and amphitheaters, where voices will not carry.  One short – one long – two short, one long – one long, shrill, sustained screech – these, and a little pointing,  all convey information.

***

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

It’s Called Theft

When I was out today, I saw a phone on the table outside a coffee shop that had been left there, so I pocketed it. It started to ring….
I took it out of my pocket and the caller I.D. said ‘Mom’.
I put it back on the table and slowly backed away.
How did she know I was up to no good?

***

Trump managed to do in 4 years, what 80% of presidents didn’t do in 8 years.
Lose an election

***

Two women were playing golf.
The first woman teed off and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole.

The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in agony.

The woman rushed down to the man, and immediately began to apologize. ‘Please allow me to help. I’m a Physical Therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you’d allow me,’ she told him.

‘Oh, no, I’ll be all right. I’ll be fine in a few minutes,’ the man replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, still clasping his hands at his groin.

At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants and put her hands slowly and carefully inside.

She then administered a tender and skillful massage for several long moments and softly asked ‘How does that feel’?

Feels wonderful, he replied; but I still think my thumb’s broken!

***

A man goes to see a fortune teller.

She begins “your name is Steve”, “Wrong”.
“Your favourite colour is green”, “Wrong”.
“You have a dead uncle who passed away 2 years ago”, “Wrong”.
“Your wife’s name is Carol”, “Wrong”
“You have 2 children named John and Christian”, “Wrong”.
“You are a painte…”, “Wrong”.

Getting flustered the woman asks “What in bloody hell do you do then?”
“I investigate fraud.”

***

A man is walking in the desert with his horse and his dog when the dog says, “I can’t do this. I need water.”

The man says, “I didn’t know dogs could talk.”

The horse says, “Me neither!”

***

Hee-Haw!

What happens when you put a sex-crazed female donkey and Donald Trump in the same room??
Nothing!  Even donkeys have standards.

***

WEBSITE IDEA: “HOT OR NOT?”
Where husbands post pictures of thermostats, and other guys comment on whether to turn it up or down.

***

Did you know today is Pancake Day? Apparently it just crêped up on us….

***

I don’t believe in a deity, but I faithfully observe all holidays that involve baked goods or candy.

***

I don’t think I was a difficult teenager, but I’m not sure my parents would agree. One night, we were discussing over dinner what we wanted to have happen when we died.  I said I didn’t want a funeral; I wanted a party.  Without a pause, my mom said, ”Oh, there’ll be a party.”

***

Jesus decided to help St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.  A very old man approached.  Jesus asked him what he had done in his life.  The old man replied that he was a carpenter.
Jesus looked closely.  “Is it??….  Is that you, father?
The old man peered back at him.  “Is that you, Pinocchio?

WOW #66

The elections are coming!  The elections are coming!  Actually, they’ve been had – and so has the electorate.  It was Donald tRump against Whatzizname.  Let’s skip past Pathology and Psychology, and go directly to

PSEPHOLOGY

ORIGIN

Psephology, “the study of elections,” comes from Greek psêphos “small stone, pebble.” (The Greeks used pebbles in counting and arithmetic functions; the ancient Athenians also used pebbles to cast votes in elections and trials.) The element –logy is the completely naturalized combining form used in the names of sciences (geology, biology) and bodies of knowledge (theologyastrology).

The 20th-century British historian R.B. McCallum wrote in a personal letter that while with C.S. Lewis and other heavy-hitting philologists, he proposed the term electionology, which so offended the sensibilities of Lewis and the others that they proposed the etymologically correct psephology, avoiding the dreadful Latin-Greek hybrid. Psephology entered English in the mid-20th century.

At first I thought that I would need to be paid – handsomely – to study elections.  Elections themselves seem to be interesting only to CPAs and statisticians.  However, the dramatis personae, the cast of characters, has evolved to make them high drama, and low comedy.  After that first Punch and Biden debate, I thought that they would have to provide the moderator for the second with a cattle prod.  It seems that a simple mute switch was sufficient, although sparks still flew.

I composed this post before the Great American Election of 2020, so, no spoilers.  Don’t tell me how it turned out.  No matter who won, the American public lost.  Now we Canadians face the inevitable march to the polls, to choose between Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dumber.  I’m gonna study my crosswords till they spend my pension on Green Energy.   😯

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.   😆

Back From The Dead

Donald Trump

A young man from New York State decides to take a gap year between high school and college to tour America. He ends up in California, visiting a friend who went west to find fame and fortune.

When the time comes to leave, he says to his buddy, I’d better get down to the Interstate, to start hitchhiking home. His pal says, I have my job at the airport. Rather than hitching rides with semis, maybe I can find you a spot with someone flying east.

The next day he is placed on-board a luxurious 4-passenger private jet, which, he is assured, will get him to NYC. Soon he is joined by an impressive, older gentleman who introduces himself as Howard, and says, I own some banks back east.

In a few minutes, a Rolls-Royce glides up to the plane, and Donald Trump climbs aboard. He is travelling incognito, with just one Secret Service officer. Soon they are in the air. As they are passing over the Rockies, suddenly the pilot comes out of the cockpit wearing a parachute, and carrying three more, which he dumps on the floor.

He says, The computer crashed, and neither I nor ground control can get it working. She’s on auto-pilot, but sooner or later she’s gonna fall out of the sky. I didn’t know that we’d have a guest, so I only loaded four parachutes. I’ve got mine. Good luck…. And he opens the hatch and bails out.

Donald Trump stands up, puffs out his chest and says, I am the smartest man in the country. The citizens need me to lead them. He straps one over his shoulders, and jumps. The Secret Service agent says, Where he goes, I go, grabs another parachute and bails out.

The banker looks at the student and says, I have a wife and children. Thousands of employees and millions of customers depend on me….and it is my parachute. I’m sorry. As he heads for the open hatch, the young man says, It’s okay. I’ll be right behind you. The smartest man in the country just jumped out with my backpack. 😳 🙄

That’s Not (Precisely) Funny

German Shepherd

Gerry Seinfeld is rolling over in his grave – or, he would be, if he were dead, and if he reads this, he might be.

There are times when comedy, or other facets of life, depend on precision.   Jerry was/is a precisionist.  He replaced a generic ‘dog’, with a ‘German Shepherd,’ in a joke about a blind skydiver, and killed.  He and a friend argued for an hour, about whether to use ‘a’ or ‘the’ in a joke.

Just as often though, it is necessary for the joke-teller to rely on the listener’s imagination.  Sometimes, precision can kill the humor.

Recently, while plagiarizing researching jokes for my comedy posts, I ran into the old classic about a couple making out in a car.  When the male asks the female if she’d like to get into the back seat, the Blonde wails that she’d rather stay in the front with him.

Ditzy Blonde

The Blonde lady who posted it, took the time and trouble to rewrite it, and place the amorous couple in a CORVETTE.  Ever the pedantic buzzkill, I reminded her that unlike the sports car Thunderbird, which morphed into a gigantic land-yacht, Corvettes never had a back seat.

I got back a grumpy (and I’m an expert on grumpy), “Well, maybe it was a BWM then.”  Maybe it was, but why did you feel the need to be specific – and wrong?  Why not just use the generic ‘car,’ the way every other joke-teller does, and let the readers’ imaginations supply their own.  I could imagine a 1928 Essex, because a man in my home-town turned one into a French fry wagon.

Today’s rant about Nothing, is brought to you because I couldn’t imagine a theme for last week’s 100-word Flash Fiction, I didn’t have a WOW composed and ready, and I published a comedy post out of sequence.

I’d like to blame exposure to Donald Trump, during our week-long visit to DC.  Our Osteopath claims that our trip was a success.  Trump was quiet all the time that we were there, but that was because he was too busy playing golf in Florida.  My digestion and my blog-site are all regular again.  Please stop back soon, so that I can prove it….  the blogging – not the digestion.  Ew, Ew, Ew.  😯

’18 A To Z Challenge – J

 

Challenge '18
Letter J

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’re sorry.  The blog-site that you are currently attempting to connect with, is temporarily out of service…. because we’re on a

JOURNEY

If you’re reading this, it means that my unpaid assistant has done his unpaid job, and clicked ‘Publish’ for this post, which I left queued-up for him.  I am not sufficiently tech-savvy to be left unsupervised with a ‘schedule post’ program.  In fact, only recently, Bell Canada insisted that I give up my rotary-dial telephone.

It was the last one in my telephone exchange area, and they couldn’t afford to maintain my ‘clickety-click’ system, along with the new beep-beep boop-boop one.  I guess they can’t blow the dust out of the new fibre-optic lines, the way they used to with the old electrical ones.

If we merely go to Detroit for some weekend shopping, should a medical situation arise, it’s a quick trip back across the border into socialized-medicine land.  For a week away, 12 hours drive from the nearest Canada, we will be purchasing out-of-country medical insurance from CAA, AAA’s little brother.  Please, nobody mention ‘giddy’ as a pre-existing condition.

We’re not allowed to bring anything toxic back, so we’ll stay away from all Tweets.  We might get close enough to the White House to hear that twit Trump, trumpet.  We might even get to see him playing bocce ball on the front lawn with the North Korean Rocket Man, using nuclear warheads.

We’ll be staying west of DC proper, just left of where Donald Trump hangs out these days.  Of course with Trump, pretty much everyone is to his political left.  Someone should censor him by slipping him a placebo smart-phone, that only looks like it’s actually working.

It’s a good thing that there’s a 140 character limit on Twitter.  Can you imagine how many people he could offend with 300?  He should be put on Twitter-Lite….only 14 characters.  He has surrounded himself with quite a few characters, some of whom last longer than others because they can say, “Yes, Mr. President.  You’re absolutely right, sir.”

This journey is the ‘We’re Going To Rants’ and ‘Sisterhood Of The Blog’ trip that I’ve been threatening you with for months.  We’ll be out of our minds the country for about a week, so, there’ll be no new posts for a while, and likely damned few responses to comments, so feel free to talk about us among yourselves for a while.

I’d suggest that, after reading this post, you get some rest, because I’m sure that I’ll have a shopping bag full of fun facts and photos when we get back.

‘Journey’ is an ‘80s, San Francisco rock band.  If you click, they’ll tell you how much I Don’t Stop Believing that this is one of the greatest adventures of my life.  I’ll see you back here soon, with a big smile on my face.   😀  😎  🌯

StOp! Ed

Extra Extra

GAZA TRAGEDY A WAR CRIME

Re: President Trump has squandered his chance for Mideast peace

What’s the appropriate response to Israel’s s shooting dead, of dozens of unarmed civilians in Gaza on May 14 – a total of over 100 such killings since March 30, when the March of Return began(with 2700 injured, 1300 being shot, none of them Israelis)?

These are essentially state executions.  They constitute war crimes against humanity.  The victims have both the right to return to the land from which they were dispossessed by Israel, and the right under international law to resist the illegal, oppressive and life-threatening occupation and siege to which they are subjected.

The correct response is for the United Nations to raise a force to arrest the killers, charge them with murder, and bring them to trial before the International Criminal Court.

In contrast, our Prime Minister calls for an investigation of these admittedly ‘inexcusable acts,’ knowing full well what happened to the investigations into the 2008-9 and 2014 Gaza massacres.  The United States rendered them inoperable.

The Record says Israel ‘should be making a far greater effort to mitigate the loss of civilian life.’  That is, aim the dumb-dumb bullets at the legs, not the heads.

Thus do the Canadian government and media continue to enable Israel’s 70-year campaign to cleanse Palestine of Palestinians.

Ed Eglin

***

PALESTINIANS COULD HAVE PREVENTED GAZA TRAGEDY

There were two tragedies in Gaza, on May 14.  The first was that Palestinians died.  The second was that Israel, its security wall, and its army were threatened with obliteration, and were forced to take such measures.

Militant, terrorist Palestinian leaders cynically incited a vulnerable mob to attack a secure fortification, with no concern for the lives and safety of their fellow-citizens, just to make a political statement.  The heavily-armed leaders remained mostly safe, well behind their cannon fodder.

Just because none of those killed possessed guns, they were far from unarmed.  They had stones and slings, like David killed Goliath with.  They had Molotov cocktails.  The defenders were not to know who had guns – or rockets, or high explosives.

“Dum-dum bullets” fragment on impact.  I believe that Ed meant mushrooming bullets, though, other than his letter, I have read no mention of their use in this fray.

Any police officer will tell that they are trained to fire at center of mass.  When a screaming mob, intent on your death and destruction attacks, there is no time for the niceties of aiming for rapidly-moving legs.  All shots are to be toward the center of the mob.  Even if hundreds of legs were maimed, apologists like Ed would probably complain about the number of cripples created.

Israel was created by the United Nations, in an area that they had been dispossessed from by the Arabs, and it has the right to protect its existence.  ‘Under siege’ means to be surrounded.  Palestinians are not under siege by Israel.  They may move back at any time.  Israel is surrounded by, and under siege from militant Muslims, whose rallying cry is to kill all Israelis, and drive them into the sea.

There are two sides to every story. Both sides of this one were regrettable, but to blame Israel for something that Palestinian leaders created, is biased and wrong.

(Both sides now)

Archon

WOW #24

Old Man

Nemo enim est tam senex qui se annum non putet posse vivere.
No one is so old as to think that he cannot live one more year.

Gerontocracy

Definitions for gerontocracy

  1. a state or government in which old people rule.
  2. Government by a council of elders.
  3. a governing body consisting of old people.

The English noun gerontocracy is composed of two relatively common Greek elements: geront- (“old age”) and the combining form -cracy (from the Greek combining form -kratia “rule, government”). Geront- is the stem of the noun gérōn “old, old man, elder.”

That’s what I need, a government of old people….wait, that’s what we already have. With age, is supposed to come wisdom.  What we really need is a government of people who are old and smart and capable, not old and stupid, or old and greedy, or old and incompetent, or old and egotistical. (Did somebody just whisper “Donald Trump”?) People who have learned from their mistakes, not learned to make more.

With my age and intelligence, I should be able to finagle myself a position as Minister of Medical Association. Thirty years ago, a doctor told me to take my Little Black Book, with the names and numbers of all the hot chicks….and throw it away.  Get another one he said, you’ll need it.

He was right! My new little black book now has the greatest collection of names of people that I pay to touch me, but they all have M.D. after their name, or chiropractor, or massage therapist, or optician.  The optician one is real important.  Without her, I couldn’t read the telephone numbers of any of the rest.

A comedian once said that, the people who really know how to run the country are all cutting hair or driving cabs.  I think that they’re all busy playing Bingo, or getting the Early Bird Special at Shoney’s.

Get Off My Lawn

😳