A Little Help Please?

From time to time somebody online will notify me that he or she is having difficulty posting comments on my Blogger blog, Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute.  And  I believe this is indeed true because other than my posts for the Friday Fictioneers,  I generally get about as many comments on my blog as there are stars in the sky. 

In the middle of the afternoon. 

In Kuala Lumpur.

In monsoon season. 

You perhaps have experienced this strange situation yourself.  You've tried but been unable to drop me a thank you for brightening your boring tedious day in the middle of your otherwise insubstantial and ultimately meaningless yet all-to-brief sojourn on this two-bit half-baked planet.

Well, you're welcome anyway.

Or you've wondered how there could be so few comments on my hilarious posts.  You've pondered: how could Perry Block's non-stop wit and incredible comedic skills not result in multiple congratulatory  plaudits and kudos on every post?!!

I've pondered too.

One possibility could be that Blogger has an endemic problem conveying comments heavily laden with glowing superlatives.  It may be that whenever a commenter clicks Send immediately after typing the words "comedy genius," "side-splittingly," and/or "I'm an attractive female dying to have sex with you, Perry Block," a glitch in the software causes it to freeze up faster than Windows XP when you had a stringent deadline your job depended upon in 2003.

This could well explain why I have never gotten a single message that includes any of the above terminology but frequently receive comments calling me an "idiot" and a "douchebag." Apparently "idiot," "douchebag," and "unfunny loser" are not words that trigger the apparent freeze.

So, may I solicit your assistance in getting to the bottom of this Blogger blogging problem? After all, I've never asked you for anything before (void with whom inapplicable).  So here's what I'd like you to do:

Try to leave a comment on this post.  Please enter the special code that Blogger has provided based on the degree of difficulty you have in leaving your comment. By tabulating the results, Blogger can determine the specific systemic problem in placing comments and make the necessary adjustments.

1) If you experience no difficulty whatsoever in placing your comment, please type in the code:  PHENOMENAL POST!  This means it was phenomenally easy to post your comment.

2) If you have some difficulty placing your comment but are still readily able to do it, please type:  FUNNY POST! This is Blogger code for "it's funny, but I had some trouble getting this comment to post."

3) If you have great difficulty getting your post to send, please type in: STEAMING HOT POST!  Which is Blogger code for "I got all steamed and hot under the collar trying to post my goddamn comment!"  

Got that, folks?  And since it may take Blogger some time to get to the root of the problem, please keep this up for the next six to eight weeks.  Maybe more. Nothing moves fast these days, you know.

Google, which runs Blogger, will thank you.

And you'll be saving me a ton of money with Dr. Kropotkin!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

The Three Doors (FF)

FF-Flash Fiction 

"Say, where's Jim?"  

"There's only three of us now, Robby.  Don't you remember?  Jim's been gone over 40 years."

"Oh, that's right!  Just like poor Otis."  

"True.  Actually, there's only two of us now.  Ray died earlier this year as well."

"Oh, gee, that's right. Then why are there three doors here?"

"Because this was the last picture of us, Robby, taken just this spring."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The picture prompt for this week's Friday Fictioneers gave me the opportunity to cheat a bit with this post and bring it in at a scant 65 words, and also to pay a small tribute to Ray Manzarek, who passed away this spring, whose keyboards were as responsible for the unique sound of the Doors as Jim Morrison himself.

Now I want to tell all the people to click here for the posts of the other Fictioneers which are bound to touch you, babe and light your fire right until The End.

Okay, goodbye, I love you, and I'll try for a real story next week!

Finding The Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot

The  Zaprover Film:

 Is this the Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot?

Hundreds of sightings.

Four investigators --- Batt,  Clift, Dumbo,  and Renault. 

Hello, my name is Batt Moneychanger and I'm the founder of a team of four investigators convinced that somewhere in the wilds of North America there lives a legendary creature I've tracked  for over 25 years.  Join us as we continue in our tireless quest ...

Finding the Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot!

Voice-Over:  The legends, tales, and folklore have long captured our imagination. They tell of a strange and elusive middle-aged man who dons a second-hand unconvincing ape suit and prances around in the woods dressed up like Bigfoot. Who is this guy? Why does he dress up in that suit? And is it hot in there?

Batt: Who is he?  It's my contention he's a random dude who perceives some oddball advantage in fooling others into thinking he's Bigfoot. Maybe he even expects to make money out of it! 

Clift: He probably thinks Bigfoot is in line to inherit some!  [Laughter]

Voice-Over:  Over the years Batt and the Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization  (GWDULBFRO) have collected countless statements from eyewitnesses who claim to have seen the Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot.

Eyewitness No. 1:  I wuz huntin' an' thought I saw me some kind of critter, but it turned out to be a big fat feller puttin' on a monkey costume!  Durned if he don't come up to me and ask me to zip him up in the back! 

Eyewitness No. 2:  Me and the family, we saw him whizzing just outside the campgrounds,  the front of his costume fully unzipped. What a schmuck!

Voice-Over: The contentions of  the GWDULBFRO team are further bolstered by the famous Zaprover film, a four minute movie shot by the late Emile Zaprover in 1976 in a wooded area of Kentucky outside a strip mall near a suburban tract home development. 

Batt:  Yes, the Zaprover  film very explicitly shows a nondescript middle-aged fat white guy cavorting in his tiny back yard while wearing a gorilla suit such as you'd get at Halloween Adventure on close-out the first week of November.  And if you look carefully, you can even see the white picket fence of his split-level in the background!

Voice-Over: Skeptics, however, dismiss the film as a hoax.  Many say that instead of a fat loser in a suit, the Zaprover film actually depicts a feral creature never before known to humankind.  And the alleged fence? In reality a pile of bones stacked high from the human victims the beast has brutally ripped asunder.  

Clift:  Frankly we're used to such skepticism.  Columbus ... Galileo ...  the Wright Brothers ... us!  All we true visionaries must deal with those who doubt.

Batt:  But nothing will shake our belief that somewhere in the wild is a chunky overage nobody in a lame ape suit!

Voice-Over: This August the GWDULBFRO team traveled to a lightly wooded area of Oregon where Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot sightings have been plentiful.  First order of business: littering the area with bait calculated to attract the fat doofus' attention --- empty beer cans, NASCAR magazines, and all manner of porn. Then Dumbo has an odd premonition:

Dumbo:  I feel it!  I can feel the presence of the Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot in these marginal woods!

Voice-Over: Ahead in a clearing, the team spots something.  It looks to be an heavy-set under-educated man in a moth-eaten costume!   Clift and Dumbo try to make contact. 

Clift: Hey, Bubba!  Didya see the big game last Sunday? Got some brewskis here for you!

Dumbo: Dude, you have to  check out the female campers a mile or so back. One of 'em's packing some big boobies on her!

Voice-Over:  Then the unexpected. 

Dumbo:   It's got me!  Oh my God, it's got the  strength of ten men!!!

Batt, Clift, Renault:   Hang on, Dumbo!  We're ... umm.... rooting for you ... 

Dumbo:  AHHH, HELP ME, HELP ME!!! DEAR GOD, LOOK AT THOSE RAZOR SHARP TEETH!!!!

Voice-Over:  Back in the camp, Batt and the team are forced to concede no human alive has the kind of strength of whatever it is gored and maimed Dumbo. Verdict: this is not the Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot. 

Batt:  Sorry. Major Fail.  But there will be another day!

Voice-Over:  Yes, indeed,  another day!  The GWDULBFRO will persevere, or at least three out of four of them will persevere, and continue in their bold and indomitable quest ...

Finding the Guy Who Dresses Up Like Bigfoot!

Batt:  And one day, by God, I will find him!  Nothing  --- neither man, woman, child nor savage prehistoric man/beast --- will stop me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm Shy!

Those of you who only know me on line may not think it, but I'm shy!

How shy?  When they called roll in school, I would answer absent just so I didn't have to talk to anybody. In high school, I was voted Most Likely to Become a Mime. And even today I'm terribly uncomfortable talking to others unless Cyrano de Bergerac is writing my dialogue.

How shy? Throughout my life, people have always been telling me to come out of my shell. Come out of my shell?  I'm looking for an even smaller shell to crawl into!

The fact is, being shy sucks.  It's beyond being an introvert.  An introvert is one who enjoys the quiet times more than the social ones, someone who prefers to be far from the madding crowd.  A shy person is mad for the madding crowd, someone longing for the social times--- for fun, frivolity, and fellowship --- just as long as he doesn't have to go out the front door to get them.

Once I joined a professional organization for shy people, the Business Association of Shy and Humble Folks Ultimately Lonely (BASHFUL, and don't think it wasn't a lot of work to come up with that!)  BASHFUL had monthly morning meetings with a breakfast spread and a speaker.  Once in a while the speaker showed up, which the three of we regular attendees really appreciated. Networking at BASHFUL meetings routinely had to be conducted with everyone blindfolded. 

At one meeting I met a gorgeous thirty-something woman nervously standing by the coffee table. She told me she'd been painfully shy her entire life and had never even had a boyfriend.  She said she was simply desperate to meet someone nice and for some reason had always been attracted to older Jewish men and blushing profusely, frankly confided in me that she was very, very horny.

Damn! If only I'd had the guts to ask her out!

How did I get this way? There's no question there's got to be a shyness gene.  I don't know if it's been isolated yet but it doesn't matter because it's always been isolated.  It's either sitting quietly in the middle of its very own chromosome or huddled nervously on the edge of another, sadly eyeing all the fun the other genes are having and silently weeping.

Those of us with the shyness gene then compound the problem by continually acting shy. I know a shy person who every night returned home to his mother's womb which was no mean feat in that he was the size of Chewbacca and did it until he was 29.  The point is that shyness reinforces itself and doesn't get better unless we shy people take the initiative and make it get better.

Here's one technique that's worked for me:  Let's say you're too shy to go into a store and ask the clerk for change for a dollar without buying something first. 

1) On the first day enter the store and buy something in the nature of a major appliance. Like a washing machine, refrigerator, threshing equipment, the space shuttle. You decide which.

2) On the second day return to the same store and buy some slacks, cruise wear,  a couple of Cuban cigars,  a box of  Goobers.  Another chocolated candy will do, not gummy worms. 

3) On the third day return to the same store and ask for change for a dollar.   

You did it, tiger!

Many shy people when confronted with certain social situations experience an unpleasant scary sensation in parts of the body, most typically the stomach, chest, or both. For me, the sensation is particularly wicked because it also involves a number of the embarrassing body parts, like an ass cheek.  Or two.  Or three, were there to be three.

But why do we let this feeling control us? Why do we let a sensation stop us from having fun, enjoying new experiences, meeting hot chicks at business meetings? We don't let indigestion do this, unless we've left our proton pump inhibitors in our other suit. Years from now we're not going to remember that uncomfortable feeling in our gut, chest, or butt cheeks but the opportunity lost, the experience missed, the life not lived.

It sort of doesn't make any sense, does it? 

So if you're shy, let's you and me try to stop letting it happen. Maybe with a true step-by-step approach (i.e., not the one above) and a little bit of time and effort, we could do it. Sure, it's not quite that simple, but it might not be all that complicated either.

You got any ideas?  Come on, speak up!  Don't be shy! 

Who knows? Before long we could be slapping a "for sale" sign on that shell! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yep, got a bit serious in the last part of this post.  Know why?   Because ....

I'm Shy!

Only Yesterday

"Is that really me? Is that really how I look?"

Eustace paused to regard himself in the reflective glass storefront en route to his weekly doctor appointment. It seemed only yesterday he was young and vibrant, but now he gazed upon a neck sagging to his shirt collar, wrinkles from forehead to chin, and a body shaped like a pear.  

Only yesterday.

Eustace sat in his doctor's office. "Eustace," said Dr. Jim, "I'm afraid there's a problem. "

"Oh, doctor, don't tell me!" protested Eustace. "It seems only yesterday I was young and vibrant."

"It was only yesterday, you idiot, and that's the problem!"

"What?"  

"Your bizarre obsession with Halloween! You don't have to wear that costume for another month and a half!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Would that the years were a costume we could put on and take off  just like Eustace!  That's the morale of my contribution this week to the Fantastic Flying Friday Fictioneers as based upon the picture prompt above.

Nature will drape that costume upon you sooner than you know, so whatever it is you want to do, go do it, do it now, and don't let anything hold you back, least of all that most worthless and unprofitable commodity known as fear. And don't hold back from digging into the offerings and  life lessons of the many other wise Fictioneers as well, all available by clicking here.

Well, I've got me one consolation: at least I can take off this false rubber nose .......  OOOOOUUUUUUCCCCCCHHHHHHH!!!

Thank You, Michele Young-Stone!

Michele Young-Stone

Michele Young-Stone is a terrific new writer on the American literary scene and her debut novel The Handbook for Lightning Strike Survivors has won praise from readers and critics alike.

It is so good that I actually read it!,  a major testament in that I am so ill-read I think "Huckleberry Finn" is a type of pie served only at Red Lobster.

That's why I was surprised when Michele asked me several weeks ago if I would like to author a guest post for her blog, Michele Young-Stone, Novelist.  Normally in the course of life I'm not asked to do much more than shut up and stand in the corner, so Michele's request caught me quite off guard. 

But I was indeed humbled and honored by it. Although now that I think about it, does it really make sense to be both humbled and honored? 

Aren't they opposites?    WTF?

"Write what you know" is a credo to which many writers subscribe and I subscribe to it as well, primarily because I got a t-shirt and 50% off my subscription. Thus I decided to write about what I know best which is writing a humor blog, or to be more precise, writing an unsuccessful humor blog. 

My post  for Michele is entitled "How to be a Successful Unsuccessful Humor Writer," and I sincerely hope it will inspire,  guide, and support eager new humor writers in  falling on their faces just as  I have these last few years.  

And thank you again for this opportunity, Michele.  I am humbled.  And honored.

But not both at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: A new and updated version of the post I prepared for Michele containing further research into the subject of failing miserably at writing a humor blog appears here.

Don't miss it!  If you've got nothing better to do in 2017.

Fallophilia

Look pleasing to you?  

You're suffering from Fallophilia!

As summer 2013 winds to a close, once again there has been a rash of reports of people making deranged statements like "Gee, I'm glad this summer is over," "I've been looking forward to September, it's so hot lately," and "Fall is my favorite time of year; what's yours?" 

Every year similar reports have been known to surface,  but public health authorities agree that such mindbendingly ludicrous and idiotic statements are increasing. "It's all indicative of a bizarre illness that we call Fallophila," says medical researcher Dr.  Henry Mergen, "and we are at a loss to cure it or even explain it!"
  
While normal in appearance,  those afflicted with Fallophilia may wax poetic about the beauty and charm of small New England villages, extol supposed virtues and wonder in fallen leaves and crisp clear evenings, or sigh contentedly while reading poetry by Robert Frost. All of which begs the question: 

Don't these crazy ass people know what's coming next?!!

"We believe that many Fallophiliacs have a brain defect which causes them not to comprehend that they're going to be freezing their nuts off in a couple of months," Dr. Mergen explains. "They think the seasons recycle in the manner of  spring, summer, fall, spring, summer, fall and so on. Those who do actually realize there is  such a thing as winter are pretty much psychopaths and lunatics, aside from the ones who live in Florida."

What should you do if you encounter a Fallophiliac? 

"Simply humor them," advises Dr. Mergen. "Let 'em traipse into the woods in their down jackets with no sleeves, grab armfuls of dead leaves and fling them playfully at each other, bob for pumpkins, or do whatever other insane nonsense Fallophiliacs are wont to do. The poor devils are sick."

"Just don't --- I repeat don't --- under any circumstances consider marrying one!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taking Liberties with Ms. Liberty

"Such an impressive sight, Dad, the Statue of Liberty!" said Brandon. "I'll bet the last time we were here, I was five years old."

"I guess that's about right, Brandon," I moaned. "I dunno, I'm so damn nauseous!"

"Oh, Dad, your  impossible tendency to sea sickness!  Why didn't you wear the patch?"

"Who'd think I'd need it for the boat ride to Liberty Island?  Ooooohhhh, if only that big fat guy would stop eating that meat ball sandwich!" 

"Come on, Dad!  This is a 20 minute boat ride.  What about our ancestors who had to journey weeks and months by ship to get here?"

"If I'd been one of our ancestors, Brandon," I gasped, pressure rising steadily in my esophagus, "right now you and I'd be speaking  in some language with not enough vowels and that bright red Phillies cap you've got on?

"Yes?"

"Would probably get us shot!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fortunately we live today in a land where freedom means you don't get shot for wearing a Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap, even if you're in New York City.  That's not exactly what the Statue of Liberty truly symbolizes, but it's a secondary theme I guess in this, my weekly contribution to the fabulous flying Friday Fictioneers. 

I won't comment on the word count on my post based on the picture prompt above except to say it's excessive, but excessive in the cause of freedom at least.  I'm sure many of the other Fictioneers, whose works are available by clicking here, have hopefully curbed my enthusiasm for verbal excess.

If you don't mind now, I'm gonna be sick!   See you next week.

30 Additional Reasons Why 60 Is Not The New 40

There's just one problem.  
It's a load of crap!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nouveau Old Formerly Cute is proud but also saddened and disgusted to add to the original cannon of 62 Reasons Why 60 Is Not The New 40  these  30 Additional Reasons Why 60 Is Not The New 40.   Sorry, my dear Boomers. 

And they are:

1) You still don't know what twerking is.

2) The picture on the left is Robin Williams at 40.  The picture on the right is Robin Williams at 60.  I'll bet even his chest hair has aged badly.

3) Try singing "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh" by Allan Sherman to somebody who is 40.

4) Somebody who is 40 does not spend more time grooming ear hair than head hair.

5) Unlike somebody who is 6o, somebody who is 40 does not get hit on at parties by women whom he bitterly complains look old enough to be his grandmother.

6) Your doctor is significantly younger than you are.  In fact, all your doctors --- and you have more than a few at your age ---are significantly younger than you are. 

7) Somebody who is 60 remembers when Jack Lemmon was young and bouncy.

8) When somebody who is 40 tells his  friends that he has gone zip lining for the first time, his  friends do not say "What the hell is wrong with you?! YOU'LL KILL YOURSELF!!!" 

9) Somebody who is 40 has never said or ever contemplated saying "I'm letting my freak flag fly." 

10) Somebody who is 40 cannot believe there was ever a comedian whose entire act was  pretending to be drunk.  Somebody who is 60 always thought the comedian whose entire act was pretending to be drunk was annoying and stupid, but still has a warm spot for Foster Brooks because his dad liked him.

11) Somebody who is 40 thinks of Bob Denver only as that idiot Gilligan and not as Maynard G. Krebs, the truly funny beatnik character he played on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.

12) When somebody who is 40 runs into an old friend, he never hears the word "Grandkids?"  

13) Somebody who is 40 does not hesitate to smile at an attractive young woman on the street for fear she might promptly summon the police who will arrest and incarcerate him to be thereafter beaten brutally by two hard boiled "over the edge" cops who make Vin Diesel seem like Emily Dickinson.

14) The picture on the left is Billy Crystal at 40.  The picture on the right is Billy Crystal at 60. If Harry met Sally today, the closest he'd get to an orgasm with Sally is hearing her fake one in a deli. 

 15) "There's a hold-up in the Bronx, Brooklyn's broken out in fights, there's a traffic jam in Harlem that's backed up up to Jackson Heights, there's a scout troupe short a child, Khrushchev's due at Idlewild, Car 54, where are you?"  Ever hear somebody who is 40 sing that?

16) Somebody who is 60 kind of misses the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon.  Somebody who is 40 thinks Jerry Lewis is an incredibly obnoxious asshole. 

17) Somebody who is 40 does not generally sputter, wheeze, or spit when he speaks.

18) Somebody who is 60 remembers a time when the expression "sucks" sounded downright dirty, and probably was.

19) You think Foster the People is a social program under the Obama Administration. 

20) Somebody who is 40 does not experience a warm and abiding sense of recognition when he or she hears: 

 "JANE KEAN!  
                    SHEILA MACRAE!! 
                                   AHHHHT CARNEEE!!!  
                                      GOODNIGHT, EVERYBODY!!!!"

21)  Somebody who is 40 does not have a neck that looks like a marsupial's pouch.

22) Somebody who is 60 remembers a time when Charlton Heston was considered a fine actor.

23) Somebody who is 40 has no idea what transcript from what television show you used to receive if you sent five dollars to the Merkle Press.  

24) Somebody who is 40 thinks Kenny Loggins --- fantastic hair notwithstanding --- must have always been a flat-out soft rock yutz and has no clue that he once made decent music with Jim Messina. 

25) Just to rub it in for both somebody who is 60 and somebody who is 40, the picture below is Robin Williams at 30.  

26)  Somebody who is 40 is not scratching his head even today over how the lyric "I've got a friend in Jesus" ever got into a song by a guy named Norman Greenbaum.

27) Somebody who is 40 and a man generally does not have droopy breasts. 

28) Unlike somebody who is 60,  somebody who is 40 does not think cloud computing has something to do with how many clouds overhead you can count that are shaped like a pussycat.

29) On September 12, I will be somebody who is 63.  In every possible respect, especially looks and appearance, I am exactly like somebody who is 40!

30)Unlike somebody who is 40, somebody who is 60 is frequently fucking delusional! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hmmm!!!!  Okay, Granny, you can feel free 
to hit on me anytime!  

Pain Free Fast at Last

The Jewish High Holy Days are truly a special time of year, but to many Jewish people and especially those who enjoy the act of consuming food, there is one part of the Days of Awe that can be somewhat less than awe-inspiring.  That’s the day-long fast that takes place during Yom Kippur.

I have always wondered why any protracted period of time without food is called a fast because there’s nothing like a fast for making time go slow. And by sundown on Yom Kippur time has proceeded so slowly for many Jews that not only does it seem as if they are back in tenth grade Geometry class,  some actually hand in homework to their old teacher.

How to handle the Yom Kippur fast so your digestive system doesn’t beg you to atone for what you’ve done to it?   Here are a few suggestions:

Eat to excess prior to the holiday.  This is one you’ll love: eat not only as if food is going out of style but eat as if whatever comes into style to replace food is also going out of style. Start around late August and do not stop until sundown of the eve of, the day of, the fast of.  You will gain weight until you resemble the love child of actress Kirstie Alley and actress Kirstie Alley, if such were possible, and when the holiday comes your food forbearance will seem like a miracle akin to manna not dropping from the heavens.

Associate food with enemies of the Jewish People.

Food is not your friend!  In every day and every age, food has risen up and sought to destroy the Jewish people by inducing diabetes in our ancestors from wicked excesses of added sugar. Associate all baked goods with the doughy pastry engendered by Haman's tri-cornered hat, keeping in mind if you ever wore a stupid hat like that you'd have to forget about getting any fine women and set your sights on Mayim Bialik as she looks in The Big Bang Theory.  And try mentally linking all middle Eastern food with Pharaoh, whose heart was hardened not by God, but by excessive levels of the bad cholesterol.  

Reflect upon how the act of fasting will build your character. Yes, you are like Gandhi in your strength and commitment! From this day forward you will face the world with new confidence, dignity, and purpose!  There you are sitting in a lotus position clad in a towel after many hours of reverential fasting .... and .... and .... there you go ripping your way to the refrigerator, knocking over whoever's in your way,  and feeding like a horse in a trough from the vanilla mint chip!

Yep.  Ain't nothing like confidence, dignity, and purpose.

Imagine you are in the movie “The Exterminating Angel.” This is a classic movie by director Luis Bunuel in which guests at a fancy dinner party are inexplicably unable to leave the party no matter how hard they try. Imagine you are in the same predicament at Uncle Morty and Aunt Sarah’s last Passover where the matzoh balls were like hand grenades and somebody apparently stuck a soapbox under weird Uncle Harris who calls Sean Hannity "a flaming liberal."

And you can't leave.   Still feel like pounding down the brisket?

Realize Things Could Be Worse. Back in Biblical days the Jewish people used to practice animal sacrifice with goats, sheep, or any animal that couldn't outrun them, most Jews admittedly not being track stars.  If going a whole day without chowing down is your idea of animal sacrifice with you as the animal, imagine if each and every Yom Kippur you were required to go forth unto the land and slay something. Unless it were slaying 'em at the Palace, I'd say having to postpone your bagel and cream cheese until sundown would be a lot more copacetic than kicking the crap out of cow.

Fantasize about fasting leading to a wonderful occurrence in your life. As you leave the synagogue, imagine that the woman of your dreams weak from hunger passes out directly into your arms.  Romance ensues.  Hot sexual union is consummated faster than you can say "Shtupping!, " if in fact, you can say "shtupping" at all.

Yes, thank you, Day-Long Fast, thank you! 

That is, unless your wife is around to witness the above referenced wonderful occurrence, leaving you embarrassed,  deflated, and all set with some heavy ass atoning to do next Yom Kippur.  

And also, not to mention, hungry! 

Happy New Year, Everyone!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coin Toss, Or Serious About Syria

In a stunning reversal two days ago, President Obama announced he would postpone plans for a military strike against Syria due to its use of chemical weapons in order to seek approval of the US Congress, surprising many because of its abrupt change from the President's prior resolve to initiate such action on his own.  In a further reversal today, President Obama announced he has again changed his mind and will decide whether to send bombers to Syria by means of a coin toss. 

In his statement this morning the President made it very clear in no uncertain terms that the coin to be tossed will be a quarter.

"Let me be totally specific and unequivocal about this," said the President, speaking to the American people on national television, "that by engaging in these illegal and deplorable crimes against humanity Syria has irrevocably crossed the red line that I long ago firmly and immutably established and our resolve to act decisively against the foul and malevolent deeds of the Assad regime is steadfast, unwavering, and unshakable, provided the coin flip comes out our way.  If necessary, we may have to make it two out of three."

The President further indicated that it is still his intention to confer with Congress before taking action on the coin toss. "I will ask Congress when it returns on September 9 to vote on whether it shall be heads or tales that signifies "Go or No Go!" added the President, "or whether Vice-President Biden should call it in the air."

Administration sources revealed that several possible alternatives to the coin toss had previously been considered and discarded including use of a Ouija Board, construction of a giant spinning wheel similar to the one made  famous on the television program Wheel of Fortune (created by Merv Griffin), and/or  Vice-President Biden blowin' on and rollin' a pair o' dice!  

Despite significant promise, the last option had to be shelved when Mr. Biden could not stop himself from singing  "Luck Be A Lady Tonight" from Guys and Dolls and admitted to having gone ahead and purchased several dark green Damon Runyonesque three-piece suits with taxpayer money.

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