’22 A To Z Challenge – K

 

I went looking for sauerkraut, –I don’t know why.  I should be able to smell it – and found a Cabbage-Head instead.

I am sometimes sooo… happy that I am saddled with the simple name of Smith, when I research the meanings of other people’s.

A reader made me aware of surname.com, but it only concentrates on English, Scottish and Irish names.  Bing has become more reliable, offering results from several sites.  One of them often does the job.  I also rely on Google Translate, though it does have its drawbacks.

I recently ran into a new, female blogger, who had married a man by the name of Kohlhepp.  This is a rare German name that I had never run into, here in ex-Berlin, Ontario.  I had to look it up.  The biggest problem with Google Translate, is that it does so literally, word by word, rather than idiomatically, with the meaning of the entire phrase or clause.

When I entered Kohlhepp, I got back cabbagejerk.  Now, does jerk mean a sharp tug, or is he the guy with the big desk in the corner office?  Another rare, local German name is Dreisinger.  I know that it means Three Singers – but which three?  The Magi??  Larry, Shemp and Moe??  A Christian-based name from a church choir??

I may snicker a bit to find that Kohlhepp is a cabbage harvester, but in Germany, that’s an important job.  Somebody gotta make all that sauerkraut.

Here in Canada, we have an up-and-coming Federal politician named Poilievre.  In French, pois are peas, and lievre is a form of ”lever,” which means to lift or raise.  If Tennessee Ernie Ford were still alive, he would Bless his little pea-pickin’ heart.

My Sister F**ked My Sex Life

While the rest of my cohort were learning about social intercourse – getting a little grope and grab, having a bit of slap and tickle – I was being press-ganged, almost every Friday and Saturday night, into babysitting for my sister.

From the time I turned twelve, until I turned sixteen and got a real girlfriend, I was voluntold to take care of her five young children on weekends.  Wed far too young, she married a country-born party guy.  He was raised on a farm, a mile and a half off the main highway, seven and a half miles out of town, before the turn-off to his place.

Back before marijuana was invented, alcohol was the drug of choice.  He had a circle of friends that he’d partied with, and even after he got married and sired five children, he still wanted to go drinking with them, and she, eagerly, wanted to go along.

I would show up at their house about nine o’clock.  Theoretically, the kids would be in bed, hopefully asleep.  The pair would leave, and we were on our own till some time the next day.  It is just as well that they did not try to drive home drunk, late at night, but that was not a rational decision.

The parties lasted until they ran out of booze, or the last drinker passed out in a chair or on the couch.  They would get a bit of sleep, and return home, semi-sober, some time the next day.  The record was a Sunday where I dressed and fed the kids breakfast, and later lunch, and their parents, missing for 15 hours, wandered in at two PM.

One Sunday morning they were driving home, and they passed a county road sign that said

SPEED
30
MILES

Hungover-ly claiming that meant that he should speed for 30 miles, he jammed his foot down on the accelerator.  Soon, they were flying down a gravel county road at 75/80 MPH.  Suddenly they came over a small rise, 100 yards from a T-intersection with the highway, on a road he should have known like the back of his hand.

He slammed on the brakes, but slid right across the highway which was fortunately almost empty, because church was still in session.  They slid down into a shallow ditch, and slammed into the far bank.  He bent the heavy steel front bumper on the car, and the windshield popped out and flew into the long grass – unbroken.  He stowed it in the back seat, and had it re-installed the next day.

I was supposed to be paid 35 cents an hour for my services.  A normal night/morning should have got me five dollars.  He earned twice what my father did, but my reward was often whatever change he had left in his pocket.

They lived in a lovely house, but it was beside the plywood plant where he was the accountant, in a commercial neighborhood.  Their nearest neighbors had five teenage boys, all known to police.  The man who lived on the street behind them was a known pedophile voyeur.  I quietly stepped into the three girls’ bedroom one night, to pet a cat on the window sill, and caught him peering in the window.

The area was populated by three families who interbred back and forth, till the average IQ was about 90.  They didn’t need a babysitter so much as an armed guard.  With five young children at home, I can sort of understand their need to get away for a while.  Month after month – year after year, this dedicated partying pair left five small children in the care of a young teen boy.  I did what I could, but I got screwed, when I could have been out getting laid.

Mathematical Humor

A young Math PhD got a job at a research facility.  His boss took him on a tour of the facility.  Nearing lunchtime, he showed him to the cafeteria.  As they entered, his boss yelled out, “47!”  Everyone in the room laughed uproariously.  Minutes later, another man entered, and shouted, “13!”  Again, everyone laughed.

Curious, the newbie asked what was going on.  His boss explained that most of the staff had worked together so long, that they had reduced their jokes to numbers, to save time.  The next day, as he was entering the cafeteria, he bellowed, “Negative four.”  The room dissolved in hilarity.  He looked questioningly at his boss.  “I was just kidding.  Why all the mirth?”  The boss replied, “They’ve never heard that one before.”

***

On a chilly Halloween night, a woman goes to the door to find a single tween boy.  He doesn’t have much of a costume, just street clothes, and an odd hat.   She asks him what he is supposed to be. He replies that he is a pirate.  That explains the hat, but he’s alone, so she says, “Where are your buccaneers?”  He tells her, “Under my buckin’ hat.”

***

A Jewish grandmother is giving directions to her grown grandson who is coming to visit with his wife.

“You come to the front door of the apartment. I am in apartment 301.   There is a big panel at the front door. With your elbow, push button 301.  I will buzz you in. Come inside, the elevator is on the right.  Get in, and with your elbow, push 301. When you get out, I’m on the left. With your elbow, hit my doorbell.”

“Grandma, that sounds easy, but, why am I hitting all these buttons with my elbow?

………”What. …. .. You’re coming empty handed?”

***

Why Italian Fathers and Grandfathers pass their handguns down through the family.

An old Italian man is dying. He calls his grandson to his bedside, Guido,   I wan’ you lissina me. I wan’ you to take-a my chrome plated .38 revolver so you will always remember me.””But grandpa, I really don’t like guns… How about you leave me your Rolex watch instead?”

“You lissina me, boy. Somma day you gonna be runna da business, you gonna have a beautiful wife, lotsa money, a big-a home and maybe a couple   of bambinos. Somma day you gonna come-a home and maybe finda youa wife inna bed with another man.  Whatta you gonna do then? Pointa to you watch and say, ‘times up’ “?

***

An attractive blonde from Cork, Ireland, arrived at the casino. She seemed a little intoxicated and bet twenty thousand dollars in a single roll of the dice.

She said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I feel much luckier when I’m completely nude.”
With that, she stripped from the neck down, rolled the dice and with an Irish brogue yelled, “Come on, baby, Mama needs new clothes!”

As the dice came to a stop, she jumped up and down and squealed. “Yes! Yes! I won, I won!” She hugged each of the dealers, picked up her winnings and her clothes and quickly departed.

The dealers stared at each other dumbfounded.

Finally, one of them asked, “What did she roll?”

The other answered, “I don’t know – I thought you were watching.”

MORAL OF THE STORY

Not all Irish are drunks, not all blondes are dumb,

…… but all men…are men!

***

COLONOSCOPY IN SAN FRANCISCO

Being nervous, and embarrassed about my up-coming colonoscopy, on a recommendation, I decided to have it done while visiting friends in San Francisco where the beautiful nurses are allegedly more gentle and accommodating.  As I lay naked on my side on the table, the gorgeous nurse began my procedure.

“Don’t worry, at this stage of the procedure it’s quite normal to get an erection,” the nurse told me.

“I haven’t got an erection,” I replied.

“I have,” replied the nurse.

Don’t get a colonoscopy in San Francisco

***

A young Arab boy asks his father, “What is that weird hat you are wearing?”

The father said, “Why, it’s a ‘chechia’ because in the desert it protects our heads from the intense heat of the sun.”
“And what is this type of clothing that you are wearing?” asked the young man.
“It’s a ‘djbellah’ because in the desert it is very hot and it protects the body,” said the father.
The son asked, “And what about those ugly shoes on your feet?”
His father replied, “These are ‘babouches’ which keep us from burning our feet from hot sand in the desert.”
“So tell me then,” added the boy.
“Yes, my son?”
“Why are you living in Dearborn Michigan and still wearing all this shit??!

***

International Fibbing Friday

Since pensitivity101’s security clearance is higher that Top Secret, she was recently asked to be a charlady at an International Committee Conference on Averting Needless Travel Expenses from Unnecessary Conferences, held in beautiful Blechly-on-Stench.  She came out of the men’s washroom with a double-handful of foreign words that she invites us to fib about.  Since they’re politicians’ words, and already coated with lies, no-one may notice.

  1. What is an abbozzo?

This is a term that I learned from my bent-nose, ex-co-worker, Melvin Goombah.  It is the giant hug I give someone when they buy me a calzone.  I could show you a sketch that a street artist did of me embracing someone who did.

  1. What does it mean to absquatulate?

I don’t know, but I’m getting my ass out of here as soon as possible, before anyone discovers that my vocabulary is not as broad as I claim it is – and I’m takin’ the petty cash with me for travel expenses.
3.  What is a biggin?

She’s probably not talking about my well-endowed uncle, Ivor Biggin.  I’ll have to put on my thinking cap about this one.  It might even be a benefit to take a short nap.  I’ll probably sleep like a baby after I have a hot toddy.
4.  What is a daedalist?

I am soooo… glad that it has nothing to do with the Catholic Church pedophile scandal.  That’s about diddleists.  He’s a competitor in the Tour d’Estonia bicycle race.  It doesn’t get the interest and coverage that the Tour de France does.  Estonia being much smaller than France, the entire race is usually over in less than 47 minutes.
5.  What is gamophobia?

It is a fear of romantic involvement or marriage.  I thought I had it once, but my girlfriend assured me I didn’t, and that we were getting married.  And I wasn’t even pregnant!!?
6.  What is a holm?

Holm is the Swedish name for a string of hospices where aging actors and actresses live at the end of their careers and their lives.  For extra humidity, to help moisten their lungs, they are often built down on river flats.  Both Celeste Holm, and Sir Ian Holm have stayed at one.
7.  What is jettatura?

Obnoxious words and phrases evolve to hide their objectionable backgrounds.  In the US, nigger became Negro, and then Black, Colored, and finally, African-American.  So too, has Monied Society become the Idle Rich, Glitterati, and the Jet Set, and, at last, Jettatura, a Portuguese term that hides the fact that they’re still lighting $100 cigars with $100 bills, and carrying Gucci purses and Hérmes scarves worth an average family’s annual income.
8.  What is a keffel?

The things I learn at my Eurofood store!!  While they concentrate on European comestibles, they told me that a keffel is a type of Nigerian pancake, made with flour from ground-up crickets.  It is best, served with poinsettia-jelly.
9.  What is meant by labtebricole?

To B, or not to B??  Turns out that it’s not two Bs.  Someone was a tad generous with the consonants.  The word is preferably spelled LATEBRICOLE.  That’s something that I discovered when I emerged from my hermit cave – my Osama bin Laden spider-hole – to get good enough Wi-Fi reception to research it.
10. What is a lacuna?

Apparently, there’s a hole – a gap – in my language knowledge, as big as the one in Terry Thomas’ teeth.

He Is Not A Pleasant Fellow

I am not a very pleasant fellow – as certified by my wife.

The son often reads Quora, an online discussion forum, which has the recurring theme, “Was I The Asshole?”  I did it again – or did I??!  You be the judge.

The wife and I entered a small variety store – think Wal-Mart-Lite.  As many stores do, the entrance aisle was narrow.  Ten feet in, the store had put clothing racks on either side, narrowing traffic even more.  Two corpulent women stood, examining clothing on one rack.  Their shopping cart was crossways to traffic flow, with its nose buried in the far rack.

We, and the couple behind us, could not proceed.  I reached ahead, and moved their cart parallel to the aisle.  We all started forward.  Just as we passed, I heard one woman complain, “He’s not a very pleasant fellow, is he?”  Despite the fact that the wife insists that I need hearing aids, I heard her mutter, “No, he’s not, is he?”

Now, some of my readers might be surprised, but being voted a pleasant fellow by a random idiot bunch of total strangers is not on my list of desired goals.  Then I started thinking about the encounter.  Just what would I have had to do to be considered pleasant??!  What did I do, to deserve such denigration?

I didn’t scream or yell.  I didn’t raise my voice.  I didn’t demand.  I didn’t curse and swear. I didn’t insult either of them.  I didn’t say a word.  I didn’t even require that one of them actually move the offending obstacle.

I could have put a smile in my big, stertorous, public-speaking voice, and sweetly asked, “Could someone please take their inattentive and exasperating head out of their Fucking ass and move this piece-of-shit cart, so that I can get into this God-damned store??!

But no!  This was more like a good day at work.  No-one actually died.  There wasn’t much blood, and the flames were quickly extinguished.  What does a fellow have to do to be declared polite and pleasant, and not get voted off the island?

Now it’s your turn to vote.  Was I the asshole??  Or just a pleasant, if not totally innocent, bystander?

I’ll tabulate the ballots on Friday.  No Fibbing.  😉

Putting the Fun In Funeral

Subject: The Italian Funeral

A Jewish man was leaving a convenience store with his coffee when he noticed a most unusual Italian funeral procession approaching the nearby cemetery.

A black hearse was followed by a second black hearse about 50 feet behind the first one.  Behind the second hearse was a solitary Italian man walking a dog on a leash.

Behind him, a short distance back were about 300 men walking in single file.

The Jewish man couldn’t stand the curiosity. He respectfully approached the Italian man walking the dog and said:

“I am so sorry for your loss, and this may be a bad time to disturb you, but I’ve never seen an Italian funeral like this. Whose funeral is it?”

“My wife’s.”

‘What happened to her?”

“She yelled at me and my dog attacked and killed her.”  

He inquired further, “But who is in the second hearse”

“My mother-in-law. She came to help my wife and the dog turned on her and killed her also.”   
A very poignant and touching moment of Jewish and Italian brotherhood and silence passed between the two men.

The Jewish man then asked, “Can I borrow the dog?”

The Italian man replied, “Get in line.”

***

If we could convince the Chinese that Jihadists’ testicles were an aphrodisiac, perhaps in ten years they’d be extinct.

***

Married 50 years 

After being married for 50 years, I took a careful look at my wife one day and said, “Fifty years ago we had a cheap house, a junk car, slept on a sofa-bed and watched a 10-inch black and white TV.  But hey I got to sleep every night with a hot 23-year-old girl.

Now … I have a $750,000 home, a $45,000 car, a nice big bed and a large screen TV, but I’m sleeping with a 73-year-old woman.  So I said to my wife “it seems to me that you’re not holding up your side of things.”

My wife is a very reasonable woman.  She told me to go out and find a hot 23-year-old girl and she would make sure that I would once again be living in a cheap house, driving a junk car, sleeping on a sofa bed and watching a 10-inch black and white TV.

Aren’t older women great?

They really know how to solve an old guy’s problems!

***

The wife and I were sitting on the patio yesterday, each sipping a glass of wine, and she said, “I love you so much.  I don’t think I could ever live without you.”
I said, “Is that you, or the wine, talking?

She replied, “That’s me….talking to the wine.”

***

No one believes seniors . . . everyone thinks they are senile.
The wife and I were celebrating our fifty-fourth anniversary.  We had married as childhood sweethearts and had moved back to our old neighborhood after we retired.  Holding hands, we walked back to our old school.  It was not locked, so we entered, and found the old desk we shared, where I had carved ‘I love you, Sally’.

On our way back home, a bag of money fell out of an armored car, practically landing at our feet.  She quickly picked it up and, not sure what to do with it, we took it home.  There, she counted the money – fifty thousand dollars!

I said, “We’ve got to give it back.”
She said, “Finders keepers.”  She put the money back in the bag and hid it in the attic.
The next day, two police officers were canvassing the neighborhood looking for the money, and knocked on our door, “Pardon me, did either of you find a bag that fell out of an armored car yesterday?”

She said, “No.”
I said, “She’s lying. She hid it up in the attic.”
Sally said, “Don’t believe him, he’s getting senile.”
The agents turned to me and began to question me.  One said: “Tell us the story from the beginning.”
So I said, “Well, when she and I were walking home from school yesterday … “
The first police officer turned to his partner and said, “We’re outta here!”

Twenty Ate Fibbing Friday

Pensitivity101 had a Balderdash clustered around her site.  That’s a collective noun for a group of free-range fellow bloggers, so she decided that the theme would be Collective nouns this week.  Give it a try.  See if you can do any better.

  1. A dynasty of ………………………..

The worst ducking TV series ever aired.
2. A bevy of ……………………………

Empty pub ale glasses
3. A mustering of ………………………

Armed Services vets, at the George Santayana commemorative services, being held in your local Royal Legion, or VFW.  My Father was an ex-WWII member, then there was Korea, then Viet Nam, then Iraq, then Afghanistan.  😯  When will they ever learn?  When will they ever learn?
4. A scold of …………………………….

My wife’s constant nagging list of helpful suggestions to improve myself.  😉
5. A cast of ……………………………….

Teenage boys, practicing for the Darwin Awards Olympics.  After their arms have healed, they can try the Dig A Huge Hole In The Beach’ challenge.  😯
6. A sedge of ……………………………

Water plants in the moat around my little country cottage
7. A comb of ……………………………

Thanksgiving turkeys.  I just go bananas for a big meal of tryptophan turkey and stuffing (myself).
8. A pod of ……………………………..

Tide detergent-eating challenges – for those who survived number 5.
9. A covey of ……………………………

C. W. McCall’s greatest hit – Convoy Whuzzat?? Covey, not convoy?  Oh Hell – just listen to it anyway.
10. A party of …………………………………

Actually, TWO parties – The one that threw Boris Johnson out on his arse – and the one the nation threw after it happened.

I will try to collect my wits – the noun for which is, black hole – before we meet again on Monday.

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.

Working One-Liners

 

CAUTION: To avoid serious injury….
….Don’t tell me how to do my job

A wise man once told his wife….
….NOTHING, because he was a wise man.

April showers may bring May flowers, but what do Mayflowers bring?….
….Pilgrims.

The fastest land mammal is….
….a toddler who’s been asked what’s in his mouth.

Parenting is a lot getting up….
….once you’ve sat down.

It’s pretty wild that we used to eat cake….
….after someone had blown on it.

I need a leaf-blower….
….but for people.

My personal style is best described as….
….”I didn’t expect to get out of the car.”

When this virus is all over….
….I still want some of you to stay away from me.

I miss being at work….
….complaining about not wanting to be at work.

I just realized….
….My trash goes out more than I do.

Boobytrap, spelled backwards….
….is partyboob.

Don’t spell part backwards….
….It’s a trap.

I still can’t believe that some people’s survival instincts….
….made them grab toilet paper.

Only 6 dwarves are left….
….Sneezy has been quarantined.

One minute you are young and wild…
…The next, you’re into air fryers.

A big nose is no excuse not to wear a mask….
….I mean, I still wear underwear.

I hear that the government is putting chips into people….
….I hope I get tortilla chips.

I’m sorry I’m late….
….I got here as soon as I wanted to.

Wanna see social distancing?….
….Lend somebody some money.

Welcome to today’s episode of….
….Now what??!

Doctor: You need to listen to your body….
….Body: You’re old, and you want queso.

My favorite way to online shop?….
….I just yell out what I want and wait for an ad to pop up.

My yoga pants….
….have never been to yoga.

I used to be a crastinator….
….Then I decided to go Pro.

Marriage Can Be Humorous

The wife and I were sitting around the breakfast table one lazy Sunday morning.  I said to her, “If I were to die suddenly, I want you to immediately sell all my stuff.”  “Now why would you want me to do something like that?” she asked.  “I figure that you would eventually remarry and I don’t want some other asshole using my stuff.”  She looked at me and said: “What makes you think I’d marry another asshole?”

***

A man walked into the Lingerie Department of Macy’s in New York City.  He tells the saleslady, “I would like a Jewish bra for my wife, size 34B. With a quizzical look the saleslady asked, “What kind of bra?  He repeated “A Jewish bra. She said to tell you that she wanted a Jewish bra, and that you would know what she wanted. “Ah, now I remember,” said the saleslady. “We don’t get as many requests for them as we used to. Mostly our customers lately want the Catholic bra, or the Salvation Army bra, or the Presbyterian bra.” Confused, and a little flustered, the man asked “So, what are the differences?” The saleslady responded. “It is all really quite simple. The Catholic bra supports the masses. The Salvation Army lifts up the fallen, and the Presbyterian bra keeps them staunch and upright.” He mused on that information for a minute and said: “Hmmm. I know I’ll regret asking, but what does the Jewish bra do?” “A Jewish bra,” she replied, “makes mountains out of molehills.”

***

The wife crashed the car today – again.  She told the police that the guy she ran into was on his cellphone, and drinking a beer.
The police told her that he can do whatever he wants in his own living-room.

***

The COVID conspiracy-theory nuts insist that the Government is trying to inject nano-bots into us to track and trace all of us.

The government has denied this.  They say that they would never do that to law-abiding citizens.  They know who the trouble-makers are by their phone conversations and Internet browser histories and credit card histories and the satellite imagery of their houses, and data extracted from their birth records, passports, immigration and emigration records; so rest assured, they have identified who not to track. They only track all the other poor fools.

***

Last night, my friends and I went to a Ladies’ Night Club.  One of the girls wanted to impress the rest of us, so she pulled out a ten-dollar bill.  When the male dancer came over to us, she licked the bill, and stuck it to one of his ass cheeks.

Not to be outdone, another friend pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.  She called the guy back, licked the twenty, and stuck it to the other butt cheek.  In another attempt to impress the rest of us, a third friend whipped out a $50 bill, called the dancer back, and licked the bill.  I was worried about the way things were going, but she just stuck it to one of his butt-cheeks.  My relief was short-lived.

Seeing how things were going, the guy gyrated over to me.  Now all the attention was on me, and the guy was egging me on to top the $50.  My brain was churning as I reached for my wallet!!?  What could I do?

The woman in me took over.  I took out my debit card, swiped it down the crack of his ass, grabbed the eighty bucks, and went home.

***

I worked with a guy who just irritated everyone in the shop.  Whether it was the tone of his voice or his condescending attitude, we all steered clear.  He must have suspected that he was annoying, because he asked a co-worker, “Why does everybody take an instant dislike to me?”
The guy replied, “It saves time.”