Friday, December 30, 2011

Time-It Change

What the ....??!!!

What is happening to Time? 

Instead of marching on,  Time now rolls forward like a tank battalion!

All of us are rightly concerned about Climate Change.  But now we are facing yet another dire and devastating threat to the future of the planet.

Time-It Change! 

Under Time-It Change, entire years pass as quickly as a  Hollywood marriage. Turn around and another month has gone by. Hiccup and you've missed the summer. 

Burp and you've missed menopause.

To me it seems that Christmas comes but five times a year, my birthday is a bi-monthly event, and the entire first decade of the 21st Century hardly lasted longer than the run of HBO's "The Comeback" with Lisa Kudrow.

What ever happened to a "solid" hour? The kind of hour that used to last  four and a half hours in Geometry class three times a week in high school?

An hour anymore is barely time to sharpen your pencils.  

On Friday afternoons people are still bidding each other to "have a nice weekend." How can we possibly? There isn't time!  As soon as Friday dinner is over and the dishes are cleared away, on comes 60 Minutes  (which feels like six minutes), bedtime, and Monday morning.

Time flies? Not anymore. 

Today Time Facebooks!

But why aren't the world's scientists focusing right now on stopping Time-It Change? Why aren't they working day and night (which no longer lasts as long as day) to get Time back into proper gear? 

I'm aging uncontrollably this very split-hour!

Or do you think Time just seems to move faster because we're older?  Like the grown-ups said it would back we were impatiently awaiting our driver's license, senior prom, or 21st birthday?

There's only one thing to do?

Gab hold of each moment and make it last.

Happy 2012, Everybody!    

Ooops, it's gone!

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

A Gay Old Time

Fred Flintstone & Barney Rubble:
Wanting to Wed 

Welcome, Brothers and Sisters!   

Welcome to today's meeting of the Council for Traditional Stone Age Marriage and Family. My name is Reverend BillyBob WillyRob.

Our organization has proudly supported and protected the sanctity of marriage and the family according to the laws of the Lord God ever since He simultaneously created the Universe, the Earth, all of humanity, the dinosaurs, and most Walmarts  some 16 and a half years ago. 

Boy, time sure flies when there hasn't hardly been any of it! 

Brothers and sisters, we know and revere  God's Plan for Marriage! He hath ordained  it within the Holy Scriptures at Genesis Section 69:69, which in case you missed it came out last Thursday to mostly good reviews, at least so far.

The Lord God hath proclaimed: 

"Marriage is a holy union between and unto one man and one woman exclusively,  only,  forever,  and you betcha! And such man and woman shall cleave unto one another until such time as I blow a whistle to end the cleaving. 

Any other union  is hateful unto Mine Eyes!  Although frankly Mine Eyes might take a quick peek if such union involve two women, one of whom is a redhead named Trixie."

But now, brothers and sisters,  there has comes a threat to God's Holy Plan! There have arisen two men of the same gender,  personal apparatus, and brand of deodorant who wish to  marry each other rather than to marry someone who douches!

Their names, brothers and sisters, are Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble!   

Most of what we know about them comes from this song:

"Flintstones. Meet the Flintstones.
They're the modern stone age family.
From the town of Bedrock,
They're a page right out of history.

Let's ride with the family down the street.
Through the courtesy of Fred's two feet.

When you're with the Flintstones
you'll have a Yabba Dabba Doo time.
A Dabba Doo time.
You'll have a gay old time." 

 What does it all mean, brothers and sisters?

"Modern Stone Age Family" 

It means two dudes!  Or two chicks!  Not a dude and a chick, as in compliance with the Lord's immutable, unbending, and eternal will ....  as laid down in Genesis late last Thursday.

 "Fred's Two Feet"

Has nothing to do with how Mr Flintstone operates his non-motor vehicle.  Rather it's very likely the major reason Mr. Rubble wishes to marry Mr. Flintstone.  I need say nothing more.

"Yabba Dabba Doo!"

These are obviously  the very words that are shouted out loud at the exact moment of climactic excitation during sexual relations between two persons bearing the same manner and degree of facial hair --- that is, two men, two women, or two older women living in what will one day be France or Italy.

"A Yabba Dabba Do Time,  a Dabba Doo Time, a Gay Old Time"

What Mr.Flintstone and Mr. Rubble wish to share for the rest of their lives.  They must expect it to be carefree and happy,  thus the use of the word "gay."

Brothers and sisters, what people like Mr. Flintstone and Mr. Rubble  seek is a true abomination of nature:   to marry persons of the same gender whom they love rather than marrying the nearest loser of the opposite gender out of desperation,  as all the rest of us do!  

And so,  we must fight the battle for the Traditional Stone Age  Family for as long as it takes to win  ---  should it take 5,000 years!   Which would bring us up to about the year 2012,  give or take a decade or two, carry the one.

In the meantime, brothers and sisters, whenever persons such as Mr. Flintstone and Mr. Rubble demand to live in a Modern Stone Age Family,  shout "Yabba Dabba Doo!," and have a Gay Old Time, 

Along with the Lord God, all of us here at the CTSAMF,  and me --- I'm Reverend BillyBob WillyRob 

 just say: 

"Yabba  Dabba Don't!"


Sunday, December 25, 2011

Thanks, Big Guy! II

                                   Yep! I'm counting these!

It’s that time of year once again that many of us stop to consider how much we have to give thanks for.

And I’m no exception.

And considering how miserable I am, I also stop to give thanks as to how much incredibly more miserable I would have been without how much I have to give thanks for.

I am thankful:

 1.   That the comic strip Blondie is still running  in the Philadelphia Inquirer, because Blondie is the only comic strip character I had  masturbation fantasies about when I was eight and still do at 61.   

 2.   That  All the World's a Stage.  Although why did I get such a crummy bit part?

    3.   That although I am of an age when I can no longer be cute,  I believe I will be able to pull together at least a couple of good years of impish.

 4.   For the Gift of Laughter. Although most of the time when I get it anymore I think I've been regifted.

 5.   That I do not have a chin cleft like Kirk Douglas or Tom Brady because fetching though they are,  how the hell do you ever clean them out?!

 6.  That surprisingly enough, I have already pretty much gotten over Regis Philbin

 7. For the Jewish people, without whom I would be Swiss.

8. For each and every one of my Twitter Tweeps, because they're far less annoying to deal with than real people.

 9.  That Spiders never joined the Axis Powers.

10.  That the mirror in my attic which is getting old instead of me has never asked me if it could have "work" done.

 11.  For the Philadelphia Phillies, who enable me to experience that disappointment so sorely lacking in all other areas of my life. 

 12.  That they made that  second "happy" ending to The Invasion of the Body Snatchers because I have enough personality problems as is without turning into a giant seed pod.

 13. That I am not Robin, the Boy Wonder because imagine all that time and effort and keeping in tremendous shape and sucking up to Batman and  trying to do homework while the Joker is attempting to kill you and still  --- not a lick of college credit?!!

14.That I am not one of Santa's elves,  because those ears and this nose would be a bit much!   

15.That as much a disaster as my life is or ever has been,  I have never once walked into a room and seen Ernest Borgnine standing there. 

16.For Newt Gingrich, without whom people would think that I  have a goofy looking head and body.

17.That women about whom I fantasize whom I actually know personally do not possess ESP and  powerful weapons.  

 18.That my cup runneth over.  I've got to remember to turneth off my cup whenever I leaveth the apartment!

 19.For schadenfreude, wherever and whenever I can squeeze what little of it I can.  

  20. That I am not being stalked by a robot assassin from the future.   Though frankly I'd be kind of proud that my kid is going to lead the rebellion to save humanity!

 21.  For the sun in the morning and the moon at night because were it any other which way, I'd probably be in Antarctica and freezing my ass off!   


22. For my own very  special private  place where no one else ever goes!   My blog.


       And so, for all these wonderful blessings, I hereby tender

My most tender and juicy
Big Guy!

Here’s hoping you have similar reasons to give thanks during this festive season, and that you don’t
royally screw them all up in 2012.

Happy Holidays, Everybody!


Saturday, December 17, 2011

Yes, Virginia, There is a Hubert

Various Sketches by Dr. Humber

There are all kind of conspiracy theorists nowadays, from those espousing alien visitations and the legitimacy of Bigfoot and Nessie to those asserting that Lorne Michaels keeps SNL on the air by eating the brains of NBC executives. No such theorist, however, is more strident and in-your-face than Professor Neil Humber of the University of Havertown PA.  

Professor Humber, who tweets as @flophouseflip, is a brilliant socio-economist and deep thinker whose ground-breaking socio-economic models and theorems have served to prove conclusively that socio-economic models and theorems are boring. After years of  intense study,  Dr. Humber has come to believe that a massive fraud has been perpetrated  on the people of the United States, and in fact, on the peoples of the world. 

"They don't want you to know!" Dr. Humber exclaimed,  his fist pounding upon the table, when we met last week.  "They continue to propagate the ages-old myth that parents provide toys and gifts to children at Christmas time! As if all parents from Baltimore to Botswana could make an objective, unbiased determination as to which of their children are naughty or nice and then implement annual Yuletide gift-giving accordingly and do it all in one night!" 

"Only one highly competent and dedicated entrepreneur could successfully accomplish this task," asserts Dr. Humber, "obviously working with a crack team of professionals he has himself vetted, assembled, and trained to perfection." 

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Mr. Hubert "Santa" Claus!

Professor Humber posits the existence of a rotund, jolly, and white-bearded gentleman who every year on Christmas Eve delivers toys to good little boys and girls, rides in a sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer, and is originally from New Jersey.  The author of 17 books on the subject, including  His Name is Hubert! and Your Parents are Fucking Liars, Professor Humber  is the leading proponent of the so-called Single Gifter Theory

I asked Professor Humber how he came to believe so fervently in the existence of a Mr. Hubert Claus and the plot to cover him up. 

"In conjunction with parental malaise and incompetence, modern methods of manufacture and distribution are simply nowhere near effective enough for the Parental Multi-Gifter Model to be feasible," he told me.  "Hell, you can't even get anybody to come to the phone at a Toys R US any more!"

Parents foster the duplicity, Professor Humber contends, in order to have something guilt-invoking to hold over their children. "Clean your room, Jimmy," "do your homework, Sarah," "don't run off and marry that uber-tatooed grifter, Sylvester," go down a lot better with "don't forget, I'm the one who gave you the 12-speed bicycle at Christmas!" than "if you want some marbles, write to Hubert!"

As proof that the U.S. government is complicit in the cover-up, Professor Humber points to the alleged downing in 1947 of a "red-nosed reindeer" at Roswell New Mexico and the mysterious appearance in a Cherry Hill NJ shopping mall in 2006 of a cheerful and avuncular fat guy asking children what they wanted for Christmas who was swiftly escorted away by government agents. 

"What do you envision this Mr. Claus to look like?" I asked Professor Humber.

"His eyes sort of twinkle," he answered thoughtfully.  "Not only that, his dimples are merry, his cheeks are like roses, and his nose like a cherry. He's sort of like an older Zach Galifianakis, but less stoned-out."   

But then why doesn't Mr. Claus simply come forward and take credit for his prodigious efforts?

"I believe that he is a humble man," replied Dr. Humber, "who wishes only to speak not a word, go straight to his work, fill everyone's stockings, and then turn with a jerk. I'm not exactly sure who that jerk is, but I'm thinking Mr. Claus may sometimes hang out with former Vice-Presidential candidate John Edwards or Charlie Sheen."

Professor Humber will be speaking tonight at the Unitarian Church in Center City Philadelphia, and a small but enthusiastic crowd is expected to attend.  Most other people will claim to be busily Christmas shopping, but Dr. Humber says that the majority of them will be out drinking with co-workers, engaging in sexual encounters with random strangers, or watching "It's a Wonderful Life" on television.

So what do you think about the existence or non-existence of the elusive Mr. Claus?

Oh, and if you're reading this, Brandon, clean up your goddamn room! 
Remember who got you that X-Box last Christmas.


Tuesday, December 13, 2011

It's a Miracle!

Now that's a Hanukkah Miracle!

As most everyone knows, no matter how trumped up it is or may be, Hanukkah is never going to be as big and bold as Christmas

Then again, it was never meant to be.  

Although the fabled eight nights of Hanukkah gifts impresses at first blush, generations of Jewish children know the reality. While the First Night of Hanukkah you might get a cool set of trains, by Nights Four or Five, you're getting underwear and by the time you reach Night Eight, it's one half of a pair of dice with the note "just double it, kid!" 

But Hanukkah's biggest problem isn't the inevitable mismatch with Christmas.  Simply put, the miracle upon which Hanukkah is centered is just not the stuff of which Charleton Heston - starred Biblical epics are made.  Frankly, Temple-consecrating oil conservatively estimated to last a day or two hanging on for an entire eight days is about as compelling a miracle as my making it successfully to work when the gauge is registering below zero but I'm too lazy to stop for gas!

Wanna Pump Up Hanukkah?   Here's my suggestions for an alternative or two that'll have you shouting:


1) One night shortly after the Hebrews’ victory over the Greeks, the skies above Jerusalem suddenly burst forth and mighty droplets of consecrated oil land upon the city!  The downpour provides enough oil to light the Temple lamp for a full eight days, but is kind of hard to get out of the cat.

2) While out hunting one day for sustenance for his family on his small plot of land near the City of David, a humble servant of the Lord named Jedidiah discovers oil.
Well, the first thing you knowest, old Jed becamest a millionaire, his kinsmen and kinswomen badest him move away from there....

3) Just as the oil is believed close to burning out, the oil meter is discovered to be broken. And when the necessary repairs are made, the meter reads that there is sufficient oil to light the Temple lamp for another 6.45 days, thereby reaching eight complete days! 

This is considered a great miracle because a Jew fixes something.

4) Through the miracle of time travel, famed entertainer Jerry Lewis travels back to ancient Israel!  His predilections for grooming as legendary as his talent, Mr. Lewis lends the Hebrews enough oil to light the Temple lamp for the total eight days and returns to the present with his inimitable coiffure fully intact! 

To which all of the ancient Israelites rejoice in thanks:  "Oh LADEEEESS!!!"

5) The principle of time-lapse photography, not to be invented for thousands of years, becomes reality!   Eight days pass in mere seconds, a paltry amount of oil keeps the lamp lit throughout, and the entire senior class at Jerusalem High misses the prom.

6) The emphasis on miracles is shifted somewhat away from oil to latkes. Heartburn aside, these babies are your true Hanukkah miracles! 

7) You win at dreidel. 
8) God lifts his mighty hand and Parts the Temple Oil, causing it to rush to opposite sides of the vessel within which it is contained, creating a dry and safe passageway directly through the middle of the vessel itself!
What’s the purpose? Well, it certainly did the trick for Passover.

Miracles great and small notwithstanding, maybe we ought to just let Hanukkah be Hanukkah. It may not be Christmas and it may not be Passover and it may not even be your birthday or anniversary, but it is what it is and what it should be. 

A bit of fun and eight nights of light at a time we need it most.
"Happy Hanukkah, LADEEEESS!!!" 

Friday, December 9, 2011

Oh, the Lame Places You'll Go!

 Oh, the Lame Places  

Today is your day.
You're off to Lame Places!
You're off and away!

You have feet in your head.
You have brains in your shoes.
You can steer yourself  
but any direction, you lose!

You're on you own. And you know what you know.
And it isn't that much, YOU'RE an ignorant shmoe! 

You'll look up and down streets.  Look 'em over with ennui.
About some you will say, "too much effort, not me!" 
With your shoes full of brains and your head full of feet, 
you'll stumble and bumble down just about any old street.

And you probably won't find any
you've the gonads to tred.
In that case, of course, 
you'll head straight back to bed!

It's much safer, you'll swear
"On my Beauty Rest so fair!"

Out there,
 Shit Can Happen!

it's invariably true
to people as incompetent
and inept as you!

And when shit starts to happen,
You'll worry. You'll stew.
With perfectly good reason
Because UP you will SCREW!


Are you on your way up?
Are you seeing great sights?

Nah, you're watching the tube,
It's Kardashian Nights.

C'mon, don't lag behind,  if you must take some speed,
and some downers and cocaine and hashish and weed.

Wherever you fly, you'll think life's a big bash,
But wherever you go ... BOOOM!!! my friend, you will crash!

Except from now on you don't.
Eight trips to Rehab say you won't.

Still I'm confident to say so
and, verily, it's true
that Car Bang-ups
and Phone Hang-ups
will happen always to you!

Life will have you all strung up
It can sting like a birch.
And the gang will fly on
You're less popular than Lurch!

That's the Addams Family's Lurch,
You dumb ignorant chump!
And the chances are finally 
You've caught on you're a Shlump!

And when you're a Shlump
you're not in for much fun.
Un-shlumping yourself
by a Shlump's never been done!

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Told you not to use Mapquest! You're surrounded, it's dark!
Six fullbacks are pummeling your head, face, and chin!

And there's nary a cop out. When you need 'em, they're in. 
How much can you lose? All you got, Gunga Din! 

Now, if you go in, should you turn left or right ...
or right-and-three-quarters? 

At SEX, you're a fright!  

Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Your date will cry "Foul!" and no doubt you will find,
She will mind-maker-upper to dump your behind!

You can get so confused
you go out and buy Mace,
and spray it on peaceful protesters right in the face!

And the world will brand you a disgusting disgrace!
Better hurry right back to your favorite place ...

                          THE WHINING PLACE ... 

...for people just whining.

Whining like a pain, you know
annoying all so they wish you'd go,
whining about all that rain, all that snow,
or why you didn't ding-a-ling Marilyn Monroe,
or about what you'd do if your Big Chance would show,
or why your scant hairs just won't grow.

Everyone - mostly you - is just whining.

Whining that the fish don't bite,
or whining that your date's a repulsive sight, 
or whining why your house is such urban blight,
or whining why you don't have Body by Jake,
or some pot to smoke, or a theatrical leg to break,
or teeth like pearls or expensive implants,
or a string of girls with your great big shvantz.

Everyone - mostly you - is just whining.   


That's so you!

The only way you'll escape
all that wailing and braying
is if I drag you out somewhere,
anywhere, long as ABBA's not playing!

With your fly flip-flapping,
once more you'll squeak by,
messing up everything under the sky.
Stepping in elephant poop cause you're a poop-steppin' guy!

Oh, the Lame Places you'll go!  There's seeds unsown to bemoan!
There are points you won't score. There are games to be blown. 
And the marginal things you can do with that ball
will make you the losing-est loser of all.
Lame! You'll be a lame-ass as lame-ass can be, 
with the whole wide world watching you scratch your nuts on TV. 

Except sometimes you won't 
Because make the team, mostly you don't! 

And, yes, there'll be times
you'll play lonely games too,
like solitaire on the PC
and the loser'll always be you. 

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
When those sexual urges hit
you'll be alone quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll need websites and videos to get off neath your pants! 
Hot babes? Yeah, right, loser, go you hither and yon,
you'll be lucky to nail a female Elton John! 

But on you will go.
"Nah, the weather's too foul."
On you will go.
"Nah, can't miss A Night with Simon Cowell."
On you will go.
"Nah, our neighbors, the Hakken-Kraks, might howl."
Onward up many channels,
you lame TV freak,
though your arms may get sore
from clicking something even dumber to seek!

On and on you will hike.
... from your TV not far.
and succumb to your problems

however lame-o they are!

You're get mixed up, of course,
you'll be readily whacked.
You'll get mixed up
with strange turds like the GOP Presidential pack.

So be sure when you step.
Step with care, watch for shit,
and remember that Life's
one Piece of Crap SNL Bit!

And never forget though you're sad and bereft,
That everyone's nuts on the far right and far left!

And will you succeed?
Are you kidding, dickweed?
You'll wind up in the toilet,

On you Life will have peed!

So ...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray

AHHH ... I'm just having some fun in my typical way!

Yes, you're off to Great Places!

Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting

so .... 

Good Luck and Oy Vay!

the end