I Was Once Human-Trafficked

In my first two years of high school, I did not form any of the romantic relationships that my Mother had threatened would occur.  There were two reasons for that.  First: the junior girls quickly attached themselves to sophomore and senior boys.  Second: I was a dork!

All that mysteriously changed, early in my third year.  By the end of September, I had acquired a girlfriend – or rather, apparently, a grade ten girl had acquired me.  I quickly went from wandering the halls with a steadily-decreasing crowd of drones, to doing it with a gorgeous female by my side.  Overnight, I stopped sitting at the loner, loser tables in the cafeteria, and moved over to the ‘dating’ section, to learn more about couples’ development.

We hung out at school, and after school, at Pop’s Diner.  We managed to see some movies, despite the fact that the theater was in my home town, she lived in the next town, five miles away, and my principal method of transportation was hitch-hiking.  Many times I walked her home after school.  I met her mother, who approved of me.

I was punching WAAAYYY above my weight here.  Puberty had been generous to this young woman.  I just didn’t get to reap all the benefits that I’d have liked.  We had some necking and petting sessions, but I didn’t have the aggressive self-confidence to demand or expect more.  We just didn’t have the time, or place, or privacy.

Still, it was an idyllic year, but it was fated not to be. At the beginning of the next school year, I walked her home one day…. and she gave me The Talk.  I was a nice guy, (Damn!  That smarted.) she really liked me, and we could be friends, (we were) but she had decided to be mature beyond her years.  There were things that she wanted, that I just couldn’t provide.  She wanted an older guy, with a job, and an income, and a car.  She wanted someone to take her dining and drinking, and dancing, and partying – to drive her around and show her off.  She was willing – perhaps anxious – to pay for the privilege, in the inevitable coin of the female realm.

It was not a total loss.  Before we amicably parted company – like a second-hand, Thrift Shop purse – she passed me off to her year-younger sister, who had expressed an interest in me.  This gal was more my social and emotional speed.  We shared many tastes and likes.  She was nicer, kinder, than her sister, and smarter.  We got along very well.  The biggest problem in our relationship was not US.

We were both blue-collar children.  My Father worked in a factory, as did hers.  I/we still had that transportation problem but, her best friend in high school was the daughter of the town’s successful doctor.  He lived in a big, fancy house, and drove a big, fancy car.  Her boyfriend lived in my town.  His father was a very successful insurance agent, who lived in a big, fancy, brick, century-house, and drove a big, fancy Lincoln Continental, which he got the occasional use of for double dates.

He did not approve of my girlfriend, and the doctor’s daughter did not approve of me.  We were socially inadequate.  It was not long before we too, parted ways.  I began dating a girl from my town, whose next boyfriend, who eventually replaced me, did sixty-days in jail.  The course of true love never runs smoothly.

This BEDA Challenge has run its course.  I’m going to sleep in, and take it easy tomorrow. (As opposed to what??!)  CU Monday, I hope.  🙂

To Sleep – Perchance To Dream

I can almost understand why Good Christians think that God, or Jesus, speaks to them, or why schizophrenics listen to the voices in their head – not that there’s much observable difference.

I know that the voices aren’t real, but they come up with some great ideas.

Actually, the voices are quite real.  They’re just completely internal, not external in any way.  They’re me!  It’s a good thing  that I’m eccentric enough to accept the weird thoughts that pop into my head, or I could be startled, or even frightened, by things my mind comes up with on its own, when I’m not holding the reins tightly.  I can see why those who wish to organize and control their thoughts, would want to blame someone/thing else for ideas and views that they might feel are somehow ‘deviant.’

I often awaken from naps with things bubbling around in my head, including solutions to stubborn Word Jumbles.  After being retired for 11 years, I still have dreams about work.  Since so much of my life revolves around writing and the English language, it is no great surprise that I often wake to words.

I recently became conscious, to the word/name ‘Kaiella’ in my head.   At first I thought that my subconscious had coined a new word, but research soon showed that, in Hawaiian, it means ‘happy girl,’ and in Arabic it means ‘sea goddess.’  I am amused that camel chasers, sitting on sand dunes, have a word for sea goddess.

My most complex day was when I woke up wondering why the name of Italian film director Sergio Leone, and that of African country Sierra Leone were so similar, and what they meant.  Leone was easy.  It’s an Italian word meaning lion, or lion-like.  It’s why the name Napoleon means Lion of Naples, even though he was born French, on the island of Corsica.  We’ll follow that lion to Africa later.

Sergio means guard/protector in Italian, as do Serge in French, Sergei in Russian, and the army title sergeant in English.

Sierra is a Spanish word from the Latin serra, meaning, a saw.  It describes a chain of mountains which is spiky and saw-toothed.  Sierra Leone has one, a segment of which resembles a crouching lion.  But if Sierra Leone looks like a lion, what is the Sierra Nevada, for which the American state is named??  😕

That’s easy!  The Spanish word nevada simply means snow, and Sierra Nevada refers to Rocky Mountains so tall that their peaks are perpetually snow-covered.

On the same day, I found that, besides being a gadget for manipulating objects by remote control, particularly in atomic reactors, Waldo is a diminutive of the name Oswald, from the German meaning God’s ruleBurkholder is a German name, but refers to citizens of the Low Countries – The Netherlands/Belgium.  I think I sprained a brain muscle.  Come back soon to watch me heal.  😀

Fibbing Friday XI

I went to Pensitivity101’s country club, and asked if I could join.  They said, Congratulations, you’re her new caddy.  Apparently she worked the last one to death.  I did come away with a lovely matched set of golf-based prompts to erect lies around.

  1. What is an Arnold Palmer?

It’s the new name for an old drink at country club bars.  It contains rye and rum and vodka.  It used to be called Panty Stripper.  You promise her that you’ll give her a long stroke with a big club, but it’s usually just a short putt out.  😯  She said, “I’m tight.”  He said, “I’m stiff.”  And they were both liars.

2.  What is a niblick?

That’s the name of the extra snack(s) I used to have at night, before my doctor said she might have to get out the defibrillator paddles if I didn’t cut back.

3.  What is a mashie?

It’s the white, fluffy carbohydrate stuff that Scotsmen eat with their mushy peas and haggis.

4.  What’s the difference between a hook and a slice?

A hook was also known as a boarding-house reach at mealtimes, back when families were large.  You needed it to get your fair share of sliced ham or roast beef.  While you were doing that, someone else was making off with the butter and rolls.

5.  What name is given to a single hole score of three under par?

If you golf with me and my friends, it would be called a damned lie.  Yell fore – take six – put down five.  The only time I even got a birdie was when a pigeon flew across the fairway as I teed off.

6.  What’s a bogey?

He was a 1930s and ‘40s film noir actor.  If he could put up with Katherine Hepburn’s shrewish tongue in The African Queen, he wasn’t afraid of gold-stealing bandits with guns, in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.  We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!

7.  What’s the difference between a regular golf course and an executive golf course?

The $100,000 per year membership fee, and not having to wait for and talk to the riff-raff.

8.  What unique award is given to the winner of the Masters Tournament?

He gets his own, personal slave, complete with controlling No-Bark collar and leash.  The year Tiger Woods won, he got a white, Joe Dirt redneck.  Rumor is that Elin got him in the divorce settlement, and she’s very satisfied.

9.  Why do golf balls have dimples?

So that you’ll pick them up and keep them with you when you find one.  Aren’t they cute little dickens??  Their mother told them to smile, and they’d go far.  250 yards, Mom.  Just not in a straight line.

10.  What is the 19th hole?

That’s the porcelain god that you’ll wind up, lurched over and praying to in the washroom, if you spend more time at the clubhouse bar than you do out on the lynx.  Oops, that’s a Canadian golf term.  That should read ‘links.’

’21 A To Z Challenge – Y

As I reach my second childhood, I also reach back more and more to the comforts of my first.  Helping me put back more than a little familiar frivolity, is

YOUTUBE

There was a ‘Zits’ cartoon strip, where a 16-year-old male was asked what he did during summer vacation.  His answer was that he “Watched Netflix” – the whole, entire, complete, 100%, F**king, thing!

I can’t claim to have watched that much, but I’ve watched just about all of it that I want to.  Like social interaction, politics, and religion, I don’t care for the flavor of much of what passes for modern entertainment.  Netflix keeps commissioning tons of movies, but most seem to be made in foreign countries, and sub-titled or dubbed into English with varying degrees of (lack of) success.

I recently discovered that YouTube has a ton of old movies that the copyrights have expired on.  I’m often looking for some light comedy, to get my mind off things like, Trump In ’24, pandemic mandates, gas prices, and spiralling real estate costs.

First I found that they have almost every British ‘Carry On’ farce.  I’ll watch Three Stooges, but only the ones with Shemp Howard.  I’ve viewed some clips of Laurel and Hardy, trying to decide which complete movies I’ll watch.

I remembered The Bowery Boys.  Those films always used to provide some no-brain-needed amusement.  Research showed that they began as The Dead-End Kids, changed to The East-Side Kids, and finally morphed into The Bowery Boys.  YouTube has almost 50 of them on tap.  Most of them star Leo Gorcey, until he drank himself out of a job.  I’m going to look to see if any of the old black-and-white Flash Gordon, or Buck Rogers serials are available.

In between, I can dip into Charlie Chan flicks, and may begin re-watching Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes series.  My complaint about these movies is about the commercials.  I don’t object to commercials.  They’re a cost of doing business.  I used to have to endure commercials when I watched movies on network TV.

My complaint, and the difference between network and YouTube is; on network TV, commercials were inserted by a real, live human, who placed them in natural breaks in the action, or conversation.  YouTube commercials are inserted by a heartless, brainless computer, whenever the Hell its electronic brain feels like, in the middle of a scene, or a line of dialog.  “So tell us Charlie(INSERT ADVERTISMENT FOR ZEHR’S FOOD MARKETS HERE!)Chan, who is the murderer?  I am developing a lightning-fast, gamer’s thumb, clicking on that little button which reads Skip Ads!

Does anyone besides me have any guilty YouTube pleasures they wish to admit to, or any other suggestions for my viewing enjoyment?

The Year In Photos

Inspiration strikes – when Inspiration strikes.  This ‘Year,’ will begin and end on March 1.  Hang onto your seats!  Here we go.  The theme will be Chaos And Confusion.  I’ll be Chaos, if you’ll handle the confusion.

March 1/21 – the monthly Costco visit

COVID masks, COVID masks
COVID all the way
(To the tune of Jingle Bells)

March 8 –

We washed the son’s work jacket…. And his 10 year old flip-phone.
Might be the origin of the term “Clean and Jerk

March 15 –

The wife’s last visit to a Physiotherapist, for a pulled back muscle.
My last cold wait outside – here.

March 22

The neighbors’ version of Groundhog Day.  Canadian weather changes quickly in the spring.

March 29

It’s Ours!  It’s Ours!  It’s Ours!
Paid off a 25-year mortgage in just over 17 years.  Can’t decide how to celebrate – McDonalds for a sundae strains the entertainment budget.

April 5

Here we go round the Mulberry bush
Hardly a bush, this young tree was 6’ – as tall as the Grandson – when we planted it five years ago.  The winter’s snows have all disappeared.  Soon I will have to mow my back yard again.

Week of April 12

The daughter and I got some COVID freedom and fresh air when I drove her to a dental appointment.  During the wait, I rewarded myself with a visit to the second-best French fries outlet – on the other side of town.  Finally open for the season at Easter, in a freestanding ex-Dairy Queen building.

W/O April 19

With a great-grandson on the way, the wife went into nesting mode.  She knitted a 36” X 48” crib blanket.  The checkerboard pattern is ‘Wee Bean,’ for our oncoming wee bean.

W/O April 26

Step on a crack – Break your Mother’s back
I’ll set you straight.
A visit to our Chiropractor.  Just another on the long list of our medical specialists.

W/O May 3

Our magnolia bush.  Its blossoms only last a couple of days, but it’s gorgeous while it lasts.  Usually it is completely covered in blooms, but a late-April freeze and snowstorm delayed/killed about half the flowers.

W/O May 10

A shopping trip past the new Google building, erected on the bones of my old auto-parts plant.

W/O May 17

Took the wife and daughter to Podiatrist, in a renovated Century-house.
At least the COVID wait outside was getting warmer.

W/O May 24

A visit to the daughter, held up by the new LRT Street Railway.  It sure holds up a lot of non-PC, car traffic, while it transports a half-dozen eco-friendly hipsters.

W/O May 31

When I finally get past that damned street railroad, this is the daughter’s single-level, handicap townhouse apartment.

W/O June 7

She doesn’t rub me the wrong way.
The ‘Happy Ending’ at our massage therapist is loosened computer-shoulders.
Dolly Parton once said that it cost a lot of money, to look that cheap.
It is fortunate that it’s my retirement benefits package which pays so much, to keep us in good physical shape.

W/O June 14

A free, origami Lotus blossom, picked up at our Multicultural festival, before COVID struck.  It represents peace and tranquility – I need all I can get.

W/O June 21

A trip to our out-of-town Vet, past 1920s Commemorative ‘Pioneer Tower,’ to recall the 1820s arrival of Pennsylvania Dutch/ German immigrants

W/O June 28

The best French fry wagon in town.  Sure looks permanent, for a trailer.  Hello delicious.  Goodbye diet – and I found a new little knife.  See Look Sharp

W/O July 1

To celebrate Canada Day on July 1, the son adopted an immigrant.  It crawled over the remains of Trump’s wall, shouting, “To Hell with Dia de los Muertos, I’m here for the Maple syrup.”

W/O July 8

The replacement building at the nearby Farmers’ Market for the wooden structure that burned, five years ago.

W/O July 15

The nearby branch of the city library.  With up to 5000 total books per day located, moved and curbside delivered, these folks were local heroes, getting me and many others through the lockdown.

W/O July 22

My 1952 print dictionary, which I am giving up for digital.  2000 pages for $20.00 – purchased at a country schoolyard flea-market in 1972, in Mar Ontario – population 4.

July 25

The wife and I finally got our second COVID vaccination.  That’s one infection you don’t need to worry about contracting from me.

W/O Aug. 5

 

Ex-Public Utilities Commission building which handled the 20th Century electrification of Kitchener, and eventually   became the Grandson’s Starbucks.

W/O Aug. 12
*

A lovely, hand-made glass flower that the daughter gave us.  I stuck it in a planter on the back deck.  Storm winds turned it slightly.  The neighbors worried that we’d installed a security camera – facing them.

W/O Aug. 19

I helped the grandson pick up a new chair for his mother, and almost stepped on this cat.
(It was a carved stone cat which we both thought was real  The photo may be added later…. if I can just find it.)  😛

W/O Aug. 26

Perhaps the most boring week of my life – not that I’m complaining.  At my age, boring is good.  The most exciting thing that happened was my newspaper got delivered.

W/O Sept 14


I discovered that my Lilac bush was growing crab-apples, which I could make crab-apple jelly with.

W/O Sept 21

I did it! I lasted long enough to celebrate my 77th birthday.  We voted in a Federal election the day before.  I did not get the present of a new Prime Minister – one who wasn’t a spoiled trust-fund baby.

W/O Oct 11

Canadian Thanksgiving.  COVID restrictions on group size had been relaxed, and all of us had had two vaccine shots.  We were all able to gather for a family meal, with the GREAT-grandson (above) as the honored guest.

W/O Nov. 8

COVID19 is going down for the count.  The Americans let vaccinated Canadians into the country – but the Canadian bureaucrats insisted on a $200 test to get back into Canada. Soon, Galleria and Boulevard Mall, soon.

W/O Nov. 15

Spring has sprung – Fall has fell – and there’s 6 inches of Partly Cloudy on my Canadian deck.  I published this photo a few years ago, but it’s become ritual with this home-owner.  This year’s version is indistinguishable.

W/O Nov. 22

Those who do not learn from the mistakes of history, are doomed to repeat them.
George Santayana

Dec. 2

The relaxation of COVID19 restaurant restrictions allowed us to go to Red Lobster to celebrate our 54th wedding anniversary.

W/O Dec. 5

And the lion shall lie down with the lamb
With our three cats and two dogs, our Vet wonders if they get along with each other.

W/O Dec. 12

Two weeks ago, I took two quarters from a pay phone slot.  Last week I found a dime in a change-counter machine overflow.  This week I found 61 pennies, because the machines are now set to eject them.  15 of them were American – which went in our We’ll get to Detroit for a weekend shopping after COVID, fund.

W/O Dec. 25

At a COVID-permitted family Christmas gathering, I found some strange man holding my GREAT-grandson Rowan back, to keep him from lunging at the camera.

W/O Jan. 3

Well, here’s another fine year we’ve got ourselves into. (Laurel and Hardy – here’s another fine mess) Survive, or submit, it’s up to us to make the best of it.

W/O Jan. 10

We don’t have enough knives in this house, so we adopted yet another, which came back to the son’s plant in an ‘empty’ shipping container.

W/O Jan. 17

To get our third COVID (booster) shot, we had to go downtown, to the recently-ex Regional Municipal Building.  Are more COVID and booster shots still in the future??  Will this never end?

Jan. 31

I think I can.  I think I can.
I thought I could.  I thought I could.
Slow and steady wins the race.
After ten+ years, I published 1500 posts.

W/O Feb. 19

COVID restrictions relaxed – again, just in time to book a reservation to celebrate the wife’s 73rd birthday.  Dining was at half capacity.  Our timing was perfect.  Everyone else found out about it, and the NEXT DAY you couldn’t get a table at gunpoint.  😯

March 1/22

*

So we end the year right where we began it – at Costco – only a little closer to free food samples again.

Thanx for strolling through a year in my life – lotsa good readin’, if ya like pitchers.  I will be purveying prose on Friday.  C U then.  😀

Fibbing Friday?  Nein!

Even though I am neither Greek, nor gay, I sneaked in the back door over at Pensitivity101’s blog site, and made off un-noticed with yet another truly great list of chances to tell a lie….  or ten.  I did not chop down that cherry tree while I was there!  It was already felled when I arrived.  True story.   😉

  1. What is the difference between an earth worm and an ear worm?

Earthworms won’t bother you until you’re dead and buried.  An earworm will irritate the shit out of you, every day until that happens.

  1. What is a Mars Bar?

That was the dingy Star Wars cantina where Han Solo shot Greedo, the bounty hunter who was going to take him in, dead or alive.

  1. What color is a peanut?

Mostly purple, with a green topknot, neither color normally found in nature, but what do you expect from a little guy who crawled out of Chernobyl?

  1. What is meant by dressed up like a dog’s dinner?

Perhaps we don’t feed our dogs as much here in North America, as they do in England.  My attempts at sartorial splendor are referred to, merely as a dog’s breakfast.

  1. What is an orange pippin?

He was the Hobbit who caught a sociable disease from a female dwarf, and was unable to appear in any of the Lord Of The Rings movies.

  1. What do an owl, pussy cat and five pound note all have in common?

Since I am as poor as a church-mouse, they are all items which are not in my wallet.

  1. Where would you find a Bunny Girl?

That was Barbra Streisand, when she was struck in the mouth by a wardrobe closet door, while filming the movie, and couldn’t pronounce the name of the film, or her lines, for a couple of days.  With that nose running interference, I don’t know how it ever happened.  🙄

  1. What is the difference between an heir and a hair?

It would be so nice to say that hairy Prince Harry, was the heir, but Prince William, the guy with no hair, is the heir.  It’s all too hare-brained for me to understand.

  1. What is meant by fringe benefits?
    That’s when my girlfriend lets me get past third-base. She usually tells me that, when it comes to sex, I am self-sufficient.
  2. What is a whimsy?

He’s a gay Frenchman who likes to attend the Wimbledon Tennis Championships.  He’s been known to ‘come across’ beneath the stands, but he comes across the English Channel on a train with the erotically suggestive name of, The Freudian Sloop.  He used to come across on a ferry, but that became just too cliché.   The mental image of a powerful engine rapidly entering a tight tube gets him off, even while he’s onboard.  He arrives and leaves with a big smile – and a few extra Pounds – but never knows who won.

I cannot tell a lie.  I’m branching out toward Dunsinane Castle, but I’ll be back on Monday with another great post – and a cord of firewood for anyone who has a fireplace or woodstove.  😉

Nothing In Prompticular

Just a little throwaway post from a day when I couldn’t convince the hamster in my head to get the wheel turning.

What language sounds the best?

Well, it won’t be any of the Asian languages.  The yin-yang, sing-song speakers of those, all sound like geese, or like they’ve all had COVID, or like geese that have had COVID.  African languages sound like they haven’t discovered vowels and consonants yet – just a bunch of boops and glottals, and clicks.  R2-D2 might be Kenyan.

With all its multiple modifying word-endings, Spanish sounds like you’re being attacked with a verbal sub-machinegun – great, if you’ve got all day to wait for it.  Latin is for medicine.  Italian is for lovers. German is for training dogs.  The Queen’s English is for pomp and circumstance.  Arabic is for phlegm.  Speakers sound as if they’re having an allergic reaction to dairy products…..CKHACKK!  😯

French is the language of diplomacy.  Of course, that just means that French speakers can ramble on for days – weeks – months – years, without ever actually saying anything.  French has some foolish constructions…. but the SOUND of it.  Oooooh!!!  If you doubt me, click to hear the Matrix Merovingian Curse.

What best describes your lifestyle – Sneakers, Dress Shoes, or Sandals?

None of the above.
My sneakers days are far behind me – and I called them ‘running shoes.’  The best I can accomplish now is a fast shuffle.  When I say that I’m approaching 75, I mean years of age, not miles per hour.  I’ve never been rich enough to be pretentious.  Even when I worked in an office, my footwear was clean and functional, but hardly worth calling ‘dress shoes.’

I may not do what I do on my feet at any great speed, but I feel I need something on them to protect and support.  Wearing sandals is just asking for foot injuries – and barely suppressed snickering and pointing.

I’d like a write-in vote – for boots.  As I explained in my Suave – Sophisticated post, I’ve worn good, solid, round-toed boots whenever socially allowable, for over half a century.  I’ll die with my boots on, and be buried in Boot Hill.

If your life were a book, what would the title be?

While I am reasonably intelligent, my social skills are somewhat lacking.  The Pink Panther, or Johnny English could star in my “Sophisticated” post, but I wouldn’t even get a speaking part.  If my life were a book, the title would probably be Dummies, For Dummies – and someone would have to explain it to me.

Oops!  It’s already out.  Can someone explain to me, why it’s already in print??  Did somebody see me coming…. AGAIN??!  😯   🙄

Fortunately for you, that’s all I have to say on these subjects.  There’ll be another Masochists Anonymous meeting here in a couple of days.  Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me.

’21 A To Z Challenge – U

 

 

I want to believe as many true things, and as few false things, as I can.
I want my internal, mental world-view to match observed reality as closely as possible.

The wife claims that, in the last 5 or 10 years, I have become intolerant and nasty toward religion and Christianity.

I think that it’s just that I’ve been more and more exposed to people who believe – and want me to believe – religious positions based on observably false claims, and I’m just getting more chances to express my discontent.

The wife’s Catholic Father died of cancer when she was 13.  He was sick for 5 years.  His teen-aged children cared for him for a year, but he was moved to the Catholic hospital, and given palliative care for 3 years.  Hospices did not exist back then, and hospitals finally realized that they could not afford to take up space with someone who would not recover.  He was discharged, to die at home.

At the end of the fifth year, he was terminal.  Four times, the local Catholic priest had to put on his cassock, and come over in the middle of the night, to give him last rites.  The first time, he rallied.  Two weeks later, the priest was back with another serving of last rites.  Again, he rallied.  Two weeks later, the tired priest made a third late-night house-call.  Once more, he rallied, but the end was inevitable.

The wife told me that, on his final visit, the priest gave her Father, not the last rites, but

EXTRA MUNCTION

I had been exposed in my youth to Baptist, Presbyterian, United, Pentecostal and Anglican, but not much Catholic.  I knew that The Church had all kinds of rites and rituals, and amulets, and potions, and spells, but I’d never heard of MUNCTION.  I asked, “What the Hell is munction?  Why did he need any, much less, extra??  Is it some kind of herbal remedy, or an opiate to ease his suffering??”

“I don’t know, but he must have needed it, because the priest gave him some extra.”   😯

Years later, I was reading a book about a Catholic who was dying, and the priest attended him, to give him

Extreme UNCTION

noun Roman Catholic Church.
anointing of the sick.
From: unction
an act of anointing, especially as a medical treatment or religious rite.
an unguent or ointment; salve.
something soothing or comforting.

I can’t fault the wife.  Shortly after that, she left the Church because she asked questions that they wouldn’t/couldn’t answer, so she didn’t get the complete indoctrination into the arcane, magical, mystical, mythical, mumbo-jumbo.  I have talked to other people who have been Catholics all their lives, but are no better informed about the Church’s tenets and ceremonies.  From the wife’s aggressive defense, even half a century later, I don’t think that she’s shed all the propaganda, but has obvious discomfort at my criticisms and doubts.

I am strangely reminded of the ‘60s British comedy movie, Carry On Doctor, which revolves around a hospital ward, with 8 stereotypical English males.  One is the brash, loud-mouthed know-it-all, who irritates fellow patients and staff alike.  Finally, a long-suffering nurse tells him to roll on his stomach, and get up on his knees.  She is going to take his temperature rectally.

He hoists his butt into the air, and something slender, round and cool is inserted.  Almost immediately, The Matron enters the ward, and demands to know from him, why his jiggly bits are hanging out in the breeze.  He says, “Have you never seen a man having his temperature taken?”  She replies, “Yes.  Many times.  But never with a daffodil!”   😯  😳  Just go along with it, because someone who claims to have authority, tells you to do something ultimately meaningless, no matter how foolish you look in the end.

It is difficult to take Christian Apologists, and their claims and arguments, seriously, when it appears obvious that there is something going on behind their…. back, and they have no idea that it’s happening, or what it is.

Fibbing Friday VII

With Pensitivity101 staring aghast, I have prefabricated some prevarications for another list of her Purloined Patented Posers ©

  1. Where will you find a pushme-pullyou?

At any K-Mart Blue-Light Special.  It’s the main reason that there are no more K-Mart stores in Kinder, Gentler Canada anymore.  Only in the U.S. do they combine cheap clothing sales with MMA death matches.
2. What is meant by the term ‘chocolate box’?

I’m not sure.  I’ve never seen a chocolate box.  I’ve seen a cracker box.  A tomato can.  I’ve seen a horse fly, but I’ve never seen a deer fly.  Bonnie May, but Donna Wood.
3. Who lived in the house made with gingerbread, cake and pastries?

The guy who is Public Enemy #1 on the Weight-Watchers Most Wanted list.  Since I cut back a bit on my snacks, and lost 20 American pounds, or 9 Canadian kilos, my ranking has dropped from #7, to #9.
4. Where will you find Mr. Stay Puft?

On a bench at the strip-mall, three doors down from the new marijuana dispensary.
5. Where will you find The Hallelujah Mountains?

That’s what women discover when they take off the bandages, after breast augmentation surgery.  Hallelujah, Mountains!
6. What did Gru intend to steal with the Shrink Ray?

It wasn’t exactly “steal.”  It was more like an extortion scheme.  He was going to shrink all the Kardashians’ butts, and blackmail them – and several Black guys with no taste – to return them to their ridiculous but normal size.  Just as he was lining up on Kim’s ass, ‘Andy,’ who became the 40 Year Old Virgin, suddenly appeared.  He had sneaked in to discover whether Kanye West was CGI, or an animatronic built by American Amusement Corporation.  Gru’s shot hit him right in the crotch, causing a small problem, and the plan collapsed.
7. Going back a long way, what was ‘Baby’ in the 1938 film Bringing Up Baby?

She was the girl who grew up to be the actress who played ‘Baby’ in the movie Dirty Dancing“Nobody puts ‘Baby’ in the corner!”
8. Who played the drums in The Muppets?

It was Charlie Watts for a while, but Janice and the rest of the band felt that his face was frightening children, so they replaced him with the Muppets Animal.  Charlie went on to fame and fortune with the Rolling Stones, playing at morticians’ conventions.
9. What magical instrument did Sparky play?

See #4.  It was a Bic lighter.  For 79¢ at the nearby Dollarama store, he gets to join in on the festivities all day – and night.  “Hey man, got a light?”  “Sure – for a toke off your little friend.  Here, I’ll spark it up for you.”
10. What did ‘Andy’ have waxed in The 40 Year Old Virgin?

See #6, above.  It was his snowboard.  After getting his sex appeal downsized, women were freezing him out.  He wasn’t getting laid, and his sex-life was going downhill fast.

The truth is, I’ll be back in a couple of days with And Now For Something Completely Different.

Flash Fiction #27 – Redux

In the lead-up to Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, etc., Rochelle has graciously granted us the exemption from straining our brains too much.  I’m taking advantage of the offer to reach waaayy back into my files, and republish this unpolished gem.

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Claire Fuller

YOU OUGHTA BE IN PICTURES

Richie had a real mania for anything related to films.  He’d even got an autograph from some kid who held a clapper stick.  He wasn’t hard to convince to come along on an artifact hunting expedition, but, the further we got from the city, the more reluctant he became.

“Why are we way out here?  There’s nothing connected to films in this run-down little village!”

“Sure there is.  They filmed some of the Transformers movies here” I replied.  “See there.  That’s the changing room for Optimus Prime.  Maybe you could get a tailpipe, or a tire for your rec-room wall.”

***

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