Thursday, August 16, 2012

You Can Drink All the Liquor, Part III

Are you ready for the country?

Just one more day and I'm off with son Brandon to the Central American nation paradise known as Costa Rica!

Am I ready in body, mind, and spirit? Well,  frankly I'm about as ready as Snooki is to star in a West End production of Coriolanus. 

I've not been on vacation for five years.  My bathing suits have cuffs.  My suitcase is so old it doesn't even have wheels despite the fact that wheels had already been invented when I bought it.  I haven't been on a plane since the movie they were showing was National Treasure.   Even Nicholas Cage makes fun of that.

So it's time at last to get my act together because I'm taking it on the road. And it's a  pretty long road, with a stopover in Charlotte North Carolina to boot.

First, I need to attend to my toiletries. I require medication for nausea, constipation, diarrhea, malaria, weltschmerz,  performance anxiety (in my case, anxiety that I'll never get the opportunity to perform), and fear of being seated next to Ted Nugent

I must also pack an extra pair of contact lenses and all the various shampoos, conditioners,  root lifters, and other Hair Helper products I use to create the illusion of hair in gullible people. Through a mix of prescription and over-the-counter drugs and various and sundry sundries, I will become a flying Rite-Aid.  All that's missing is a flying pharmacist. 

Then, there's the matter of clothing.  Virtually everything you wear has to be sprayed with something called DEET to protect it 
from being dive-bombed by Costa Rican insects the size of Kirstie Alley.  It is important to follow the instructions on the can label which warn you to never EVER let the spray contact your skin or you will rapidly dissolve like Nosferatu touched by the first rays of early morning sunlight.  Curiously enough, nothing on the label promises that it will work half as well on the big ass bugs seeking to establish military beachheads on your butt.

To protect the top of my head from burning like the most resolute and unrepentant  sinner in a painting by Hieronymous Bosch, I'll also need a floppy broad-brimmed hat and a boldly colorful bandanna. Coupled with the new sunglasses I bought several weeks ago, I'm sure to strike the image of the far and away least cool 60 plus year old rock star ever to be written up in Wikipedia.

Finally there's the experience of a Central America sojourn itself.  Just imagine:  Me - someone who feels like he's returned to the state of nature whenever I have to fetch a wiffle ball out of the neighbor's azaleas - communing with over 10,000 indigenous species of flora and fauna  in the rain forests of Costa Rica.

I'm actually pretty cool with respect to virtually all of that flora and fauna except for two types 
of fauna you may have heard something less than favorable about over the years known as crocodiles and snakes.  Fortunately the guidebooks all say that visitors to Costa Rica should be just fine as long as they avoid those areas in Costa Rica in which crocodiles and snakes are known to congregate, those areas being more specifically described as Costa Rica.

Luckily my friend Carrie Bailey,  a wise and experienced world traveler, has been helping me to overcome these anxieties. Carrie provides the kind of tough love that makes me want to work diligently to oust my fears despite the fact that my efforts to use our time together towards maneuvering her into bed have proven totally fruitless. Thanks to Carrie's wise ministrations, crocodiles and snakes will not give me to dread just as long as screaming aloud remains prominent on the itinerary.

And so, I bid adieu to my loyal readership (I believe your name is George) for just a little while.

One more thing:  I'd very much like to bring you all something back from Costa Rica.   If you think of it, please tweet me your T-shirt size.  I probably won't buy you one,  but I'll be very excited thinking about the T-shirt sizes of my women followers when I'm on the plane.

Okay, have a good couple of weeks.

I guess I'm ready ....    
 Yep!  I'm ready!

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Getting to Know You

"Getting to know you, 

Getting to know all about you"

"Paul, welcome to the team!
I know you're going to add a great deal to our campaign."

"Thank you, Mitt.  I appreciate your confidence."

"It's not exactly that.  How could you possibly detract?  Nothing from nothing leaves nothing."

"Mitt, I won't let you down.  By the way, not sure I like the name Mitt."

"Yeah, sometimes I like it and sometimes I don't.  As with everything else with me."

"Now, you said you wanted to discuss some of my ideas for dramatically reducing the budget?"

"Yes, Paul.  I love your ideas for getting rid of Obamacare and slashing Medicare,  social programs for the lowest income Americans, food stamps, and the tires on Chris Matthews' car.  Especially repealing Obamacare.  What moron would ever think a program like that could work?!! "

"Clearly someone wholly unfit for office, Mitt.   BTW,  now that I have to say it all the time, Mitt does seem like a goofy name."

"Yeah, I'm feeling that way right now too.  Paul, what I want to understand more thoroughly are your ideas for shrinking Big Government." 

"Well, first up we're going to cut each Congressional Representative's staff by one aide.  The bottom level aide doesn't usually do much besides tweet pictures of the Representative's private parts to constituents anyway."

"Sure, that makes sense. What else?  

"I will be making some cuts to the Executive Branch as well." 

"That's only fair. Wait, let me guess:  You're reducing the number of Presidential bodyguards by one, just like the Congressional aides."

"Well, not exactly."

"What then?"

"We're reducing the number of Presidential bodyguards by all of them. From now on,  you'll be protected by the Sloman Shield."

"Oh .... sure.  That ...  umm ... makes sense.  What else?

"About Air Force One ...."

 "Wait, let me guess: we'll be turning Air Force One into Privatized President's Plane One .... ha, ha, ha."

"Well, not exactly."

"What then?"

"Turning Air Force One into Volkswagen One."

"Oh ....err .... sure.  That ...  ummm ... makes sense.  Guess you'll also be turning the White House into the White Bungalow .... ha, ha,ha."

"Well, not exactly."

"What then?"

"Turning the White House into Volkswagen Two."

"Oh ... errr .... sure ...  sure.   That ...ummmm ... makes sense .... that makes .... Paul, these Executive Branch changes are ridiculous! How will you ever put them through?!!"

"That's not my problem, Mitt."

"Why not?"

"Because once we're elected I'm eliminating the position of Vice-President.  Day One you're in office, first thing you do is repeal me!"  
"But what about Obamacare?!"

"That' s Day Two, right after you repeal the Presidential Chief of Staff, the Cabinet, and air conditioning for both Volkswagen I and II.  And boy, Mitt sure is one goofy name!

"Actually, right now I like it."


"Because once I'm in office, it's the only thing I'm gonna have left!"


Sunday, August 12, 2012

Why Aging Sucks

Words here are truly unnecessary ...

Billy Joel

Age 30

Age 60
We love you just the way you were ...


Brigitte Bardot

Age 20

Age 72
You're alone with her on the beach and she's wearing nothing but a towel.
 It begins to slip off....


Laurence Olivier

Age 32

Age 72
Sans teeth, sans taste, sans eyes ...


Cheryl Tiegs

Age 22

Age 60
Would you believe the modeling gigs 
have all dried up? 


Peter Frampton

Age 22

Age 62
No, I'm not Billy Joel!


Tina Louise

Oh, to be stranded on an 
uncharted desert isle with her!


James Garner

Age 28

Age 78
 File it under "G"
 for Geezer, Mr. Rockford.


Donna Douglas
(Elly Mae Clampett)

 Age 25

Age 75
Well, Go-o-o-l-l-e-e-e-e, Pa!


Grace Slick

 Age 30

Age 70
Please, Grace, one pill make you younger! 


And this one 
you won't believe


Keith Richards

 Age 22

Any age over 22



Age 21

Age 61

Well, there's always one exception
 to the rule.


Hey, who's writing this? 

You or me?


And that's why Aging

The End

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Super Mitt, Olympics Savior!

Kristi Yamaguchi:   Mitt Romney brought a huge sense of hope to the 2002 Olympics. If it weren't for him, today I'd be waiting tables at some dive in a nondescript suburb of Philadelphia,  getting groped by overage losers like Perry Block. 

Jimmy Shea:  Mitt gets things done. He changed my life.  If it weren't for him,  I'd be pimping, dealing crack, and making loud inconsiderate noises in the public library.

Yes, when the 20o2 Olympics Games were in great danger, the call went out to: 

Faster than a speeding bullet!

More Powerful than a locomotive!

Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!
(And then purchase them and lay off half the workforce.)

Look up in the sky!  It's a bird!  It's a plane!  
(No, it's a dog on top af a car.)

It's Super Mitt!

Yes, it's Super Mitt, strange visitor from another planet.
(You can say that again!)

Who came to Earth with powers far beyond those of mortal men.
(Especially the power to buy and dismember companies like mortal men buy and dismember fish.) 

Who can bend steel in his bare hands.
(And invest in it too, at distressed prices.)

Change the course of mighty rivers! 
(And decry the New Deal, whose dam building made changing the course of mighty rivers an unnecessary dumb ass power.) 

And who, disguised as Mitt Romney, anything but mild-mannered CEO of a great metropolitan equity investment firm, fights a never-ending battle for 

Truth, Justice, and the American Way!
(As interpreted by a vocal and lunatic fringe of the Republican Party.)


"Super Mitt, thank God you're here!" 

"No need to thank God.  Just thank me - Super Mitt!  It's the same thing."

"Super Mitt, the Olympics are mired in debt!  What can you do?"

"If there's debt, we have to make draconian cuts in the budget.  We'll eliminate certain Olympic events." 

"Which events, Super Mitt?"

"Skiing, skating, ice hockey, ski jumping,  and snowboarding.  That's about it."

"What does that leave us with?"

"Curling.  Everybody loves Curling!"

"But, Super Mitt, that'll fly about as well as any one of your typical public statements."

"Okay, then we'll have to pare down the number of Olympians."

"Who can we pare down?"

"Well,  that annoying Kristi Yamaguchi for one.   Oh, and Jimmy Shea - what a moron!"

"No, Super Mitt, people want to see them."

"Well, we're not going to raise taxes on any millionaires to host the Olympics!"

"No one's suggesting that, Super Mitt."

"See that?  Super Mitt to the rescue!  Of millionaires!"

"Super Mitt, do you want to save the Olympics or not?!!"

"Yes.  And no."

"But you're talking out of both sides of your mouth!

"That is my greatest super power!" 

Despite all this, Super Mitt flew into action and did apparently  do a pretty decent job of getting the Salt Lake City Olympics back on track.

But why not?  He's a strange visitor from another planet.
(You can say that again!)


Wednesday, August 8, 2012

I Am Curious (Red)

With the successful landing of the Curiosity Rover on Mars this past Monday, the search is on.

That is, the search is on to find traces in the Martian soil of organic compounds or of liquid or frozen water so minuscule as to be insignificant even next to the musical talent of the "rock" group ABBA, the discovery of which might indicate that aons ago Mars supported some form of very primitive life.

"Only guy on the late shift again!"  NASA scientist Fred Bowers moaned last night as he examined the latest data sent to Earth from the Curiosity Rover. "Here I am scooping, sifting, testing ...  I feel like a judge at the Pillsbury bake-off!" 

"C'mon, Fred,  get it together, there's too much to do!   Say, who are those two guys who just came onto the screen? Funny, the monitor's color must be off kilter, they look sort of green."

"Greetings, People of Earth!  I am Xanthan Gum and this is Karra Geenan."

"Hey, fellas, Fred Barrows. Where'd you come from?"

"We live here on Mars, where our highly technologically advanced civilization has built a utopia which we have dedicated to peace,  love,  justice,  and science."

"Good for you!"

"Care to see our nearby gleaming futuristic city?"

"No, thank you, I'm kinda busy here."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"You probably wouldn't understand."

"Try us."

"Well,  the spacecraft you're standing next to is known as the Curiosity Rover, and its purpose is to look for trace elements of frozen or liquid water or compounds like carbon."

"Sounds like a waste of time."

"No, no.  You see, if we could determine that there once existed ....  umm .... I'm not sure how to explain this, it's kind of technical ...."

"No matter, Fred.  We could help you dig with our solar powered soil-moving machines. We use them to tunnel hundreds of miles underneath Mars to locate the minerals that give us eternal life, as well as giant penises for all the men." 

"Nice of you two,  but I've got everything I need here on Curiosity."

"Fred, we could share the minerals with the people of Earth.  No charge."

"I don't mean to be impolite, fellas, but I've got a desk full of work here."

"We'll leave you to your primitive devices then."

"Say,  just out of curiosity --- no pun intended ---  how do you guys speak English?"

"We monitor your radio and television broadcasts, of course.  Mars loves that King of all Media!  But why does anyone listen to ABBA?"

"Nobody really knows.  Bye now."

"Damned nice guys," thought Fred Barrows, as he turned back to the myriad computations he had to run on the latest excavated square centimeter of Martian soil. 

"Wish I had more time to talk. If Curiosity doesn't get me anywhere today, maybe I'll stick 'em in a footnote in my report."


Monday, August 6, 2012

The True Olympic Gold

All my appreciation of the Olympics, be it XXX or any X at all, comes in many parts, its acts being seven stages.

Stage One:  The Olympics are on next week? Does anybody care?

Stage Two:  Wow, these opening ceremonies are fabulous!  All this pageantry, all these nations I've never heard of, look at all the cute girls!  Now they're lighting the torch! Awesome!

Stage Three:  I've been watching the Olympics every night!  We've got a new America's Sweetheart, Gabby Douglas!  And Michael Phelps has now won more gold medals than anyone ever! 

Stage Four:  Yeah,  watched me some beach volleyball last night but after a bit I switched over to That Seventies Show.

Stage Five:  Isn't there anything else on other than the Olympics? 

Stage Six:  Wow, these closing ceremonies are fabulous!  All this pageantry, all these nations I've never heard of, look at all the cute girls!    Now they're extinguishing the torch!  Awesome!   

Stage Seven:   "Gabby Douglas Soars with Smuckers?"  How many damn products can one person plug?!!!

But however you feel about the Olympics,  there is one thing about them that is undeniably great: they succeed in making us all feel like underachieving losers.  And that's good.  Because the more we're humbled by what we see, the less likely we'll act like what we are.

Rude, inconsiderate assholes.

Sitting home watching Douglas twirl and spin or Franklin and Locte rocking the water, I realize I must have missed half a dozen or more positive mutations along the evolutionary trail.  Considering my crustacean-like worth, how dare I ever freak out on you if you spill coffee on me, step on my toes, or shoot me in the back for my poke and leave me for dead?

And as these incredible athletes excel before the world,  Donald Trump mopes about unable to speak, Charlie Sheen becomes modest and shy, and Mitt Romney treats his dog better.  

That's the true Olympic Gold! 


Friday, August 3, 2012

Appreciation Day for Croak-fil-A

"We do Dead Chicken Right!"
The Unfortunate Slogan and Logo of Croak-fil -A 

One of the least successful of America's fast food eateries is finding itself in a controversy these days, one that --- pardon the pun --- just won't seem to fly the coop! 

Since its founding in 2007,  Croak-fil-A of Kretschmer WI has stumbled in a number of marketing areas beginning with its questionable premise of focusing on the deadness of its chicken rather than its tastiness

In addition to its logo (shown above)  coupled with the catchphrase "We do Dead Chicken Right," Croak-fil-A's  menu items include: 

The Quarter Corpser
Finger Lickin' Fatal Fries,
Very Cold Wings

Sales at Croak-fil-A franchises have been flat (completely flat!) with most customers being assorted goth types and really over-the-top fans of Quentin Tarantino. 

Recently, however, Croak-fil-A got itself in even deeper trouble when its CEO, Dan Patty,  made the statement that "We're inviting God's judgment on us when we think we know better than him the shape of the planet he made.  The Bible doesn't say anything about the Earth being round!"   

"I  prefer the idea of a flat Planet Earth,"  said Mr. Patty. "If I ever have to fly to England, I'll be a lot less nauseous without having to go round any sharp curves.  Plus I can't wait to see me that waterfall at world's end,  I'm so saving up for the trip!"

Given Croak-fil-A's moribund financials, Mr. Patty's got a lot of saving to do.  A  so-called Appreciation Day for Croak-fil-A yesterday had lines at its three locations stretched one deep around the entrance way.   

Should  Mr. Patty be free to express his personal and sincerely held beliefs openly in America?

Of course.

But thinking the world is flat isn't so much a belief as a delusion, a wish that the world would be something other the way it is. Wishing the world and the people in it to be something other than the way they inherently are doesn't make them so.  

It just makes you dead wrong.   

Dead as a Croak-fil-A chicken!