You Say You Want a Resolution Part II

Have You Made Your List Yet?

Herein my list of resolutions for the New Year.   Have you made yours yet?   

Then what are you going to feel guilty about this time next year?

~~~~~~~

1) I will live bold, fearless, and unafraid.  I'd like to talk to you about it but you scare me. 

2) I will live outside my comfort zone at all times, my comfort zone being the hall bathroom.

3) I will begin to more prudently invest my money, starting with moving it out from inside my mattress.

4) I will hang with hot super models, including all the really hot super model trucks from Revell and Motor World. 

5) I will become totally gender neutral in my treatment of others, both men and babes alike.

6) I will visit the Philadelphia Art Museum often, because it's warm there.

7) I will make some new friends to compensate for the friends I have alienated this past year and then alienate them too.

8) I will get over my inferiority complex such that I will truly believe in myself, even though I am inferior.

9) I will be slow to criticize others unless they are standing on my foot.

10) I resolve to Carpe Diem each and every single day of my life! Also to take a long nap every day.

11)  I will only drink juice with no sugar added.  I'm getting enough sugar from my carton of Coke a day anyway. 

12) I resolve to stop procrastinating just as soon as I finish all my other resolutions.

13) I resolve that I will resign as President of the "Bill Cosby-America's Dad Association."

14) I will stop using the word "fuck" because it cheapens modern day discourse and shows a lack of creativity in usage of  the English language. However I will use "fucking" as much as possible. 

15) I will read all the plays authored by the great William Shakespeare right after I read a very credible article that convinces me that the great William Shakespeare didn't actually author any.

16) I will watch less television and spend less time on Twitter and will use the time I have saved doing drugs.

17) I will ask Seth Rogen and James Franco if they have any good non-offensive ideas for my blog.  

18) I will try to engage someone of an opposing political point of view in a meaningful, respectful, and constructive dialogue, even though most people of an opposing political viewpoint are idiots. 

19)  I will not make fun of the names Han Solo, Peter Parker, Jack Johnson,  or Hugh Jackman in the new year, so I'm going to go crazy making fun of them through midnight tomorrow night.

20) I will shop exclusively at Whole Foods from now on, not because I give a damn about healthy eating but because I'm much more likely to find well-preseved women my age there than at Super Fresh or Acme.

Have a Great New Year, Everyone!

~~~~~~~~~

If Batman Had a Jewish Mother, or My Son, the Dark Knight

As the scene opens, high above Gotham City, the Bat Signal cuts through the evening sky.

Mrs. Wayne: Bruce ... Bruce? 

Bruce:  Yes, Mom. 

Mrs. Wayne: Come see what I made special for you. 

Bruce:  Matzoh Ball Soup!  Thanks, Mom.

Mrs. Wayne:  You're welcome, darling.  You're looking frightfully thin, Bruce, have another matzoh ball.  Light as a feather, aren't they? 

Bruce:  Mom! Look outside!  In the sky!

Mrs. Wayne:  I don't see anything. Here I'll close the drapes so you won't be bothered ....

Bruce: No, no!  It's the Bat Signal.  I must switch to my alter ego, the Batman!

Mrs. Wayne: Now, darling, you know you have to wait 45 minutes after eating before you change into Batman. Even longer if you're going to have to swim as Batman!

Bruce: I can't wait for that, Mom. Gotham City needs Batman!

Mrs. Wayne: Gotham City needs to kiss my tuchas!  And I expect you home by 12:00 sharp or you're grounded! 

Bruce: Aww, Mom!   I can't promise that.

Mrs. Wayne:  Then I'm coming with you.  Somebody's got to keep Mr. Dark Knight out of mischief!

Off into the night roars Batman's supercharged vehicle across the Bat Cave waterfall and towards Gotham City.

Mrs. Wayne:  Bruce, Bruce, slow down for crying out loud! You'll give your mother a heart attack!

Batman:  But, Mom, Commissioner Gordon is counting on me.

Mrs. Wayne:  Counting, schmounting!  He put a coat around you one night, you weren't even cold and I wasn't even dead! Say, darling, did you remember to bring your inhaler?

Batman:  Oh, shit!  I did forget it.  Well, we're not going back for it now!

Mrs. Wayne: Suit yourself, bubbeleh!  And watch your mouth.  

Batman:  Sorry!   That reminds me, Mom, when I'm dressed up like this, please remember to call me Batman!  You screwed up twice last week and called me Bruce right in front of Jim Gordon.

Mrs. Wayne: You think he doesn't know who you are, Mr. Big Shot?  You think he doesn't have a brain?  That husky voice wouldn't fool a four year old sitting in Santa's Lap.

Leaping from a tall building, Batman glides down to confront the Joker.

Batman:  Hand me the detonator, Joker.  I'm going to stop you from destroying Gotham City!

Joker:  But destroying Gotham City is my hobby, Batman.  What do you want me to do,  take up Mah Jong?

Mrs. Wayne: Did I hear my favorite hobby mentioned? 

Joker:  Who are you?

Mrs. Wayne:  I'm Bruce's Mom.

Batman:  No, you're Batman's Mom!  Batman's Mom!

Mrs. Wayne: Sure, darling.  Mr. Joker, look at you!  This is how you come to destroy the city? You look like Flo from Progressive.

Joker:  How should I look, Mrs. Batman?

Mrs. Wayne: Go home, wash your face, put on a nice suit, and then turn yourself in to Commissioner Gordon.

Joker: I will!  Thank you, Mrs. Batman.  If I'd had a mom like you, I'd be a successful dentist by now.

The Joker departs.

Mrs. Wayne:  All done!  And it isn't even 9:00 P.M. yet.

Batman: I have to admit you're right, Mom.  But I have a question.

Mrs. Wayne: Yes, Bruce?  I mean, Batman.

Batman:  Is there any more soup? 

Mrs. Wayne: Of course, darling!  Nothings too good for my boy who just single-handedly saved Gotham City from the Joker!

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

View from the Top (FF)

 Copyright -Björn Rudberg

"This is some climb, isn't it? Enjoying it, Fred?"

"Sure am, Art!  But I'm wondering...."

"I know:  you're wondering if the view at the top is going to be as spectacular as I promised.  I assure you you're going to be blown away!"  

"Yeah, that's ... that's great.  But Art, I've also kind of been thinking ..."

"How long it will take to get to the top?  No time at all now."

"Oh, good.  But I've also been wondering once we get to top ..."

"Yes?"

"If the spotty maintenance on this rollercoaster might pose a bit of a problem on the drops."

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

Personally I'm not a fan of rollercoasters  because I become nauseous at theme parks in the gift shop.  Still and all, I'd like to think that somebody would tend to the maintenance of the Dragon Crusher above before it is officially classified as a arboretum.

This is my weekly contribution to the Friday Fictioneers based on the photo prompt above, and you'll have a wild but safe ride checking out the the other Fictioneers' offerings by clicking here.

Okay,  over the top, here we go!!!   At least all the grass might make for a safe landing. 

Therapy for the Devil

    

"Please allow me to introduce myself."

"No need, I know who you are. You are Mr. Lucifer, I am Dr. Kropotkin, and this is your first appointment.  Come in and pull up a couch!"

"Well, okay, but, doctor ...."

"Tell me: what do you do for a living, Mr. Lucifer."

"I am the Lord of Darkness."

"So you're self-employed?"

"You could say that."

"Let me get your full name."

"Satan Mephistopheles Beelzebub Lucifer."

"That's an interesting name, Mr. Lucifer.  French, isn't it?"

"No, it is of all nationalities, all peoples, and all ethnic groups throughout the world since the very beginnings of time."

"Then, German?"

"You're getting warmer."

"What brings you in for therapy, Mr. Lucifer?"

"It's this darn Christmas season, Dr. Kropotkin.  All these happy people out and about spreading joy, it's killing me!"

"But, Mr. Lucifer, you're not alone. Many people feel depressed during Christmas."

"But I'm not depressed. I'm suffused with rage and anger!"

"Why so angry, Mr. Lucifer?"

"Because I'm feeling powerless to turn all those who celebrate Christmas into mindless zombies, bid them perform unspeakable evil, and steal their souls for all eternity!" 

"All of us feel powerless now and then, Mr. Lucifer. Ha! You should see me around the kitchen."

"Doctor Kropotkin, you don't seem to ...."

"There, there, Mr. Lucifer, it can't be all that bad.  It's not as if you'd killed someone." 

"Doctor, I've killed everyone!"

"That is some guilty conscience, Mr. Lucifer. Tell me about your father."

"I was the most beautiful of all his angels, and yet he cast me out of Heaven!"

"What was your father's name?"

"God."

"Gee, you really did worship the guy. And your mom?"

"What's a mom?"

"So your cherished father rejected you and you had no mom.  No wonder you're depressed at Christmastime!"

"I'm not depressed at Christmastime!"

"Of course you are.  Tell me, did you long for an air rifle as a child only to be told you'd shoot your eye out?" 

"No, I'm all  for eyes being shot out!"

"Yes, often when we're depressed we have revenge fantasies against others."

"No, no, no!  I'm not depressed!  I don't have revenge fantasies!  I'm mad as Hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lucifer,  that's not such a great  Howard Beall from the movie Network impression.  Don't quit your day job, whatever that is."  

"You still don't get it, do you, Dr. Kropotkin?  Observe!!!"

"So, Mr. Lucifer, you've now engulfed my office in flames in the center of which you are standing a full seven hundred feet tall and laughing demonically while behind you I see images of hundreds of thousands of people being brutally tormented, raped, and tortured all throughout history." 

"Dude, that's it. You see, Dr. Kropotkin:

 I AM THE DEVIL!!!"

"Well, Mr. Lucifer, we'll certainly have a lot to talk about next time."

"Next time?"

"Your hour is up.  It's a 45 minute hour."  

"But doctor...."

"And you being the Devil, I think you should start coming five days a weeks. Maybe six on the weekends I don't go to the Hamptons." 

"But I'm not made of money, Doctor!  Fire and brimstone, but not money!"

"Then I suggest you borrow the money from a close friend who shares similar personality traits with you."

"I...I guess I could do that."

"Good. Then I'll see you same time tomorrow, and remember: no cancellations within 24 hours."

"Thank you, Dr. Kropotkin.  And I'll materialize in Donald Trump's office just as soon as I leave here."

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

Don't Bug Me! (FF)

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed into a gigantic insect.

“Well, this isn’t going to do much to add to my popularity,” Gregor thought. He hoisted himself on his painfully thin spindly legs and wobbled out toward his family.

“Boy, I’m not very coordinated,” he thought. “I used to be able to fairly well fly through the air.”

“Gregor!” screamed his mother,”you’re a bug!”

“Tell me what I don’t know,” replied Gregor.

“We’ll have to get you to a specialist,” said Gregor’s father. “Maybe they can turn you back into bacteria like all the rest of us.”

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

Poor Gregor’s plight is nothing to sneeze at. Turning a bug back into bacteria has got to be almost as difficult as being an executive at Sony Pictures these days.

My story based on the picture prompt above is just one of many such stories authored by the Friday Fictioneers which you can access by clicking here. I know you'll enjoy them.  

Now don't bug me!

Environmentally Correct (FF)

copyright Sandra Crook

"What kind of people are these?" exclaimed Michele.  "To leave a beautiful site like this so disgusting and filthy!"

Michele and Billy were taking a walk on Sunday across Sutter's Bridge when they came upon the shameful scene.

"Who knows?" agreed Billy. "I can't imagine how anybody could be so malicious to heave anything and everything off the bridge like this!"

"Let's clean it up!" proclaimed Michele. 

Michele and Billy scrambled off the bridge and down to the site, eager to get started. "Here, Michele," said Billy, "hand me that rock and plot of grass and I'll start siphoning up all the water."

"Great, Billy!  In no time at all we'll have the rubbish, shit, and garbage looking as perfect and pristine as new!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You've probably encountered sites like this too --- all those babbling brooks and waterfalls covering up beautiful car tires, beer cans, and dead bodies!  Well, I'm proud to say that my Friday Fictioneers story this week strikes a powerful call for the environment!

Please hug an abandoned tire today.

You may also want to hug one or all of the other Fictioneers (literally or figuratively) by clicking here. And then please help me and Billy siphon up all this disgusting water. Here's your straw.

Supermarket Sweep

Wanna speed through the supermarket?  
Follow these free and easy tips! 

I've never been the sort of person who likes to go shopping, whether it's shopping for clothes, home furnishings, or electronic power tools, were I ever to actually shop for electronic power tools. But there's one kind of shopping that I actually sort of like.

That one kind of shopping? Food shopping, of course.

Why? Because I like to eat!  And you can't eat a necktie, sleeper sofa, or band saw, were I ever to actually shop for electronic power tools and purchase a band saw.

I have even scoped out some of the secrets of successful food shopping over the years which I'm pleased to share with you now:   

1) The Cardinal Rule: Never go food shopping when you're hungry unless you want to come home with enough fruits and vegetables to feed the Philadelphia Zoo for a week and/or a package of Mallomars in the economical and convenient Entire Neighborhood Size. 

2) To avoid this,  I generally purchase a bagel before I begin shopping  and eat it while I am going through the store. Frequently store personnel think I have stolen the bagel, and I am often savagely beaten behind the meat counter by a bunch of guys wearing name tags which say "Hi!  My name is Chuck." Aside from the occasional broken rib, however, I do save a buck or two on eats. 

3) Selecting the proper shopping cart can be high art.  Make sure you don't choose one with rickety or wobbly wheels or by the time you reach the checkout counter you'll be vibrating like the tiny membranes posited to exist in string theory. Also don't pick a shopping cart with the kiddie car in front unless you actually plan on riding in it. 

4) When in doubt about anything, ask a friendly member of the supermarket staff. They can always be found almost anywhere ... that's funny, I saw one  of them a second ago.   I'll bet someone's in nearby aisle 4  ... no, not here.  I'll try Aisle 14.

5) A word on milk:  I remember the days when there was only one kind of milk - fresh whole milk.  Now there is whole milk, 2% milk, 1% milk, skim milk, lactose-free milk, milk mustache-free milk, and milk with tiny colored pieces of construction paper. Which should you buy? The only one that has ever been important - chocolate milk!

6) Many products are labeled "Better if used before January 13."  Were you to eat Cheerios on January 14, you would say to yourself " y'know, this isn't bad ... but yesterday it was better."

7) Some products are labeled  "Must Sell by January 13!"  Were you to eat a sirloin steak on January 14, you would say to yourself "y'know, this isn't bad ... but yesterday I was alive."

8) A word on bananas:  unless your house is immediately adjacent to Customer Service, a banana will fully ripen, become spotted and squishy, and be primed for the garbage disposal just as you arrive home.  Only buy bananas that are so incredibly green that if you were shopping with Superman, they would kill him.

9) This is odd. I saw two or three store employees right here in Aisle 14 a minute ago. Where could they be?  Okay, lemme try frozen foods....

10) Buying the store brand can save you money and often the quality is just as good as that of the name brand. You're paying for packaging and advertising when you buy the name brand and in some rare instances, the guarantee that nobody has spit in it.

11) Supermarkets have a tendency to put more popular products at eye level and less popular products on upper shelves. They don't expect many people to want to purchase the products on the higher shelves anyway.  The other day I was looking to purchase a heart-lung machine, and just my luck, nobody tall was around!  

12) Beware of cross-selling strategies. Take a stroll down the Mexican food aisle, and just beyond you find Nexium, Tums, and enough heartburn meds to turn your esophagus into a quivering street junkie. What do we find at the end of the ice cream aisle?  Diet aides. End of the Kosher food aisle? Greeting cards worded "Sorry I haven't written," "Sorry I missed your son's Bar Mitzvah," and "Sorry I swindled you out of our mutual business."  Yep. Selling Guilt.

13) Then there's the ages old controversy:  Should you feel free to look through Us Magazine and the National Enquirer while waiting in the check out line without ultimately purchasing them?  I dunno, but why on earth are you looking through Us Magazine and the National Enquire?  You know what?  I hope the cashier does yell at you! 

14) Hello, hello is anybody here?!!  I need help selecting pimentos, for God's sake!! Where is everybody?! Damn!!! That's supermarket clerks for you; they're just like cops.  

Never around when you need one.*

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

*Note:  I don't really feel that way. Most supermarket employees are great! Especially the ones I'm going to need desperately when I'm food shopping later today.

NaNoWriMo, More or Less

NaNoWriMo?  We wouldn't miss it!

National Novel Writing Month, also known as NaNoWriMo, is an annual internet-based writing project that takes place each year during November and has just wrapped up for another year.  NaNoWriMo challenges participants to write an entire novel during the period from November 1 through November 30. 

All of which freaks me the hell out. 

I have never taken part in NaNoWriMo because for me to write a complete novel within a month would require the Gregorian Calendar to include months with a minimum of 8500 days, and last time I checked November falls a bit short of that. However many people do rise to the challenge, and I understand even some of our greatest novelists have gotten their start the NaNoWriMo way ....

James Joyce: Fyodor!  How are you?  

Fyodor Dostoyevsky:  Jimmy!  Why, I haven't seen you since the last time we got together in Paris. 

Joyce: That was so fun!  I don't think I've ever seen you that wasted.

Dostoyevsky:  Tell me, Jimmy, how did you make out with NaNoWriMo?

Joyce:  Not great, Fyodor.  Writing a novel in one month is tough, especially when it's 800 pages long, mostly stream of consciousness, and steeped in allusions to practically every cultural, religious, and literary concept and event in all of history.

Dostoyevsky: So? Didja finish? 

Joyce: Umm ... no.

Dostoyevsky: How far did you get?

Joyce:  Well, I got me this title here.

Dostoyevsky:  "Ulysses."  Okay, what's it mean?

Joyce:  Still working on that.

Dostoyevsky:   Well, Jimmy, it's a very cool title. 

Joyce:  What did you write for NaNoWriMo?

Dostoyevsky: A sprawling novel focusing on the mental anguish and moral delimma springing from the commission of a crime and the implications of individual punishment vs spiritual redemption set against the backdrop and turmoil of Pre-Revolutionary Russia.  It's called Crime and Punishment.

Joyce: Cool!  How's it come out?

Dostoyevsky: Who knows? I'm only up to Crime, nowhere near Punishment. Right now the crime's just a small traffic violation, but I may pump it up to a misdemeanor.

Joyce: Oh shit!  Look who's coming!

Dostoyevsky: Fuck!  Hemingway! He always finishes his novel by Thanksgiving and then lords it over us.

Hemingway:  Hiya, boys!  How's NaNoWriMo treating you?

Dostoyevsky and Joyce: Fine, Ernie, fine ... copacetic....super peachy .... thanks for asking!

Hemingway: Sure. Me, I just tossed out a little cupcake called The Old Man and the Sea.  Wanna see it?

Joyce:  Yeah, I wouldn't mind  ... wait a minute!  This book isn't even 100 pages long! 

Dostoyevsky:  And it's big print too!

Joyce:  And look at all these lame little sentences:  "The old man loved the fish." "The fish loved the old man." "The old man and the fish moved in together."

Hemingway:  Can I help it that you guys are verbose?  

Dostoyevsky and Joyce:  What?!!

Hemingway: James, a reworking of the Odyssey in modern times? The Coen Brother did that in O Brother, Where Art Thou and wrapped it up in under two hours. Fyodor, the moral and societal implications of crime and punishment? Ever seen Law and Order? They do it every week!

Dostoyevsky: That's it!  Let me at him!  I'm going to hold him down and force him to watch Hemingway & Gelhorn!

Joyce:  Fyodor, Fyodor, stop it stop it!

Dostoyevsky: Why?

Joyce: For one, he's a boxer.  For two,  he's run with the bulls in Pamplona. For three, Alice  B. Toklas won't give us hash brownies any more!

Hemingway: C'mon, guys, let's all have a drink; tomorrow is another year. After all, The Sun Also Rises!  

Joyce:  Uh-oh.

Hemingway:  Which gets me thinking ....

Dostoyevsky: Oh, shit, Jimmy, I think we're screwed for next year too.

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

The Man with the Green Arm (FF)

    

Copyright Janet Webb

If some people are said to have a green thumb, Homer Fulton had nothing less than a green arm.   He could grow any kind of plant anywhere, make flowers bloom in the winter, and even grow grapefruits in Minneapolis.

When news spread about Homer's talents, he was booked on The Today Show. As he left home for New York, plants, bushes, and flowers were growing spontaneously wherever he walked. 

"Welcome to The Today Show," said Matt Lauer, as a rose bush began sprouting from the top of his head.  "To what do you attribute your amazing power?"

"Darned if I know," replied Homer, "but I wish it would stop. I'm allergic as hell to all of it!"

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

We'll leave Homer sneezing away in this, my weekly contribution to the Friday Fictioneers based on the picture prompt above. The other Fictioneers are also blooming with ideas, but hopefully none to make you sneeze, if you click right here.

I wonder if Matt Lauer looks better with a rose bush on his head ...

Sam Kane, Finder of Lost Holidays

LA is a city of some seven million people.  That's a lot of folks with a lot of different hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Me, I'm just another one of the seven million.  But my line of work is a bit different from most of the other suckers.

I'm Sam Kane, Finder of Lost Holidays!

How did I get into this racket? I used to be Sam Kane, Finder of Lost Cellphones. That was good money at $500 a day plus expenses until people caught on all they had to do was dial their own cellphone number and they'd find their phone under the bed or in their other pants pocket. 

So I'm working the holiday heist beat these days. I'd like to say it's a living, but with three ex-wives and enough alimony to sink Bill Gates, that it could never be!

Well, I was sitting in my office on a Thursday afternoon that was so slow Governor Christie could have beaten it in a foot race. I was boning up on the latest news in lost or missing holidays  --- North Dakota's Rock Salt Festival had just gone missing and in Indonesia someone had ripped off Kimono Dragon Entrails Day --- when she came in.

"Mr. Kane?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"I need your help."

The dame stood four foot three with a shape like a bassoon.  She had short tufts of red hair, a pushed in nose, and toenails you could use for mountain climbing. If you're looking for a story with a little romantic interlude later on, you better look elsewhere.  

"So what's your beef, sister?"

"Mr. Kane, I'm Angelica Who from Whoville."

I was familiar with Whoville. I'd spent two weeks there one night. 

"Mr. Kane," she went on, "someone has stolen Christmas!"

"Beg pardon?"

"Everythings gone. Decorations, presents, Santa, reindeer, elves ..."

"Baby Jesus too?"

"Yes, Baby Jesus too!  And every last bit of gold, frankincense, and myrrh."

And myrrh!  The words cut through me like a knife sold on a late night infomercial which dramatically cuts your time making julienne fries.  Only one man was devious enough to steal myrrh.  The same one man who actually knew what myrrh was!

"Sister, I already know who the culprit is," I told Ms. Who."It's Maximilian De Grinchford Jr., an international holiday thief of great renown, also known as the Grinch."

"How do you know it's him?" asked the Whoville doll.

"The Grinch is the only one who has the capability to pull off this job. Why, he's the one who stole St. Clorox Day!"  

"What's St. Clorox Day?"

"See that?  Stole it so cleanly you don't even remember it existed. It was the late March holiday for liquid bleach."

I knew that the Grinch had been seen in Eastern Europe trying to fence parts of Labor Day he'd stolen last September, specifically a load of barbecue equipment and one beer cooler. I bid Ms. Who goodbye after grabbing a retainer of $250 and credit for one shitload of candy canes once I got Christmas back, and headed for Prague in the Czech Republic.

Upon arrival I made a number of connections among the seamiest and most dangerous of local underworld types including guys with highly visible neck tattoos that read "I Savor Parsing the New Yorker" until I found a gentleman named Willie the Snitch who directed me to Cafe Praguelegs, where at long last at a corner table behind a vail of smoke seated next to a leggy blond was the green-hued gentleman I knew as the Grinch. 

"Hello, Grinch, it's been a while."

"Kane! Why, I haven't seen you since you tried to pin that St. Clorox Day job on me. Getting whiter whites these days, are you?"

I wasn't gonna rise to the bait.

"Grinch, I'm not going to screw around.  You've got Christmas, I want it back."

"I don't know anything about any Christmas, Kane,"  said the Grinch.

"Then why is Will Ferrell as Elf sticking out of your left pocket?"

"Um ... no, Kane, that's not Will Ferrell as Elf.  That's Will Ferrell as Anchorman. Totally different thing."

Sounded reasonable.  But then I remembered the Grinch thought Anchorman was overrated, just like I did. I leaped at the Grinch with a karate chop to the neck, but unfortunately I missed and killed Will Ferrell.  Kind of a shame but at least we're spared another Anchorman sequel.

And thus began a chase across the four corners of he world

I caught up with the Grinch in Istanbul, where we exchanged gunfire. I had to exchange mine because it was in the wrong color and size;  I don't why he took his back. Then I tracked him to Venezuela where we fought hand to hand, then Madrid where we fought hand to ankle and nose to elbow, and finally to Stockholm where we fought hair weave to hair weave and hand wave to hand wave at a distance of 25 feet. 

I knocked the Grinch to the ground with a hand wave nothing short of the way Granny waves at the end of The Beverly Hillbillies and was upon him.

"WHERE'S CHRISTMAS?!"  I cried "WHERE'S CHRISTMAS?!!"

  "Kane!  Kane! I give up," gasped the Grinch.

"WHERE'S CHRISTMAS?!!!" 

"You're not going to believe me, Kane," sputtered the Grinch, "but I gave it away!"

"You gave it away?  You gave it away? Well, excuse me, Mother Teresa!"

"I swear it, Kane! I gave it away."

"To whom?"

"I gave it to the people of Liberia, Sierra Leone, and everywhere in Western Africa struggling with Ebola. They need it."

I was stunned.

"I'll have to confirm that, Grinch.  But what possessed you?"

"For some reason this year, Kane, my heart grew three sizes."

"That's impressive, Grinch.  I'd like to duplicate that growth on myself, but on a different body part."

Well, it turned out the Grinch was telling the truth.  He'd given the nations of Western Africa a one year loaner of Christmas, to be returned to the folks of Whoville by next year. When I told them, the residents of Whoville were delighted to help out those less fortunate in this way.  Plus I'd still get all my promised candy canes next year and I had a pretty hot romantic interlude with Angelica Who after all.  

What are you gonna do?

As for me and the Grinch ...

"Well, Grinch, it looks like this could be the start of a beautiful friendship! Grinch?  Grinch?"

"Goddamit, Grinch, get your hands off Hanukkah!"

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The Not-So-Humble Chef

I was fortunate to be invited this past Thanksgiving to dinner at the house of friend whose wife is stellar in the culinary arts. Everything was terrific, a fact that was not at all lost on Denise herself, the very purveyor of the very Thanksgiving meal itself.

"Denise, this soup is really good," said a fellow guest as we began partaking of Course No. 1.

"It sure it," I added.

"It's fantastic!" exclaimed Denise, "the finest Italian Wedding Soup you'll find anywhere!"

This was unusual, I thought.  

Most people are somewhat modest in a situation of this sort. They say things like "I'm so glad you like the soup" or "I'd hoped it would turn out alright," not "the stars are smiling upon you that you're privileged to eat my marvelous soup tonight!"

But it was a small complaint given the fine meal I'd been invited to.

Course No. 1 over, the turkey was served.   A number of guests acknowledged its excellent taste.

"Great turkey," said a guest.

"Good stuffing too," said another.

"It's delicious!" cried out Denise "My gravy gets better every year, and the stuffing is my own very special recipe, never been equaled, never will!"

Now this was pushing it, I thought. At least give the dear departed bird a bit of the credit too.

Main course cleared away, time for desert.

"Denise, love this creme brule," said a guest.

"Yes, it's really delicious," said another.

"This is the best creme brule anyone has ever eaten in the history of the world,"  exulted Denise. "The dictionary definition of the word 'scrumptious!'"

I could take it no longer.

"For God's sake, Denise, sure this food is good, but it isn't the most pleasurable experience since the invention of the orgasm.  Say 'thank you,  I'm pleased you enjoyed my humble meal,'  not 'You assholes are lucky I condescended to grace you with this food of the gods!'

There was total silence, except for a cough or two. Denise looked at me for a moment, then spoke.

"You're right, Perry.  I'm sorry,  I do get carried away. Say, how is your blog coming along?"

"I just wrote the fucking funniest humor piece anybody's ever read about a woman who can't stop praising her own cooking! It's unbelievably hilarious!"

Sometimes in life you just gotta blow your own horn.

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