The God Particle Makes You An Offer

This is it!*

It has been called the "God Particle."     

And its likely discovery earlier this week has the world's top physicists as giddy and exhilarated as a slightly post pubescent teenage girl about to be French kissed by the Biebs, minus the hot and sticky panties.

The particle causing all the hoo-ha is the Higgs boson, thought by physicists to be the basic building block of the universe and one of the few building blocks not manufactured by Mattel or Tonka. Scientists believe that the Higgs boson has been observed by use of an immense particle accelerator in Geneva Switzerland that serves as a sort of bumper car for protons,  propelling gleeful protons head-first into one another and coming to a stop just as the protons are really getting into it.  

The Higgs boson has been nicknamed the "God Particle" because physicists long believed it had a long white beard and demanded animal sacrifice, but bosons have now been determined to be clean shaven.  Who or what may be small enough to have shaved them remains shrouded in mystery, but many physicists believe it was Daniel Radcliffe.

As for the theory about animal sacrifice, the hunt is on for teeny weeny itty bitty sheep!

Here's what has been learned so far about the little particle that could, the Higgs boson : 

What is the world of the Higgs boson like?  What if we could be shrunk down to the size of the smallest particle in the universe?
Not sure about you, but I wouldn't like it.

What is the Higgs boson itself composed of?
Milk chocolate, but after billions of years it's kind of stale.

Is the activity of the Higgs boson stable?
Generally, except on Saturday nights and those Jewish holidays which feature wine. 

Does the Higgs boson vibrate?
Amazing!  Here's one of the greatest discoveries in the history of the universe and still all you can think about is sex!

What color is the Higgs boson?
They come in red, blue, and floral green.   Matching neutrons are available but must be shipped from neighboring atoms at generally prohibitive cost. 

Does the Higgs boson have a sexual orientation? 
Yes. Openly gay.

Are there more grains of sand at the beach or Higgs bosons in your left ass cheek?
It is a tie. 

If the Higgs boson is the smallest object in the universe, what is the largest?
Chris Christie.   Ta-Dum!

What exactly is a boson?  
A boson is a tiny sub-atomic particle that is one letter off from being the word "bosom."

Why do some people giggle when they say or hear the word "boson?"
No idea.

Can the God Particle make you an offer you can't refuse?
Yes.  And if you do not accept, you may wake up with a quark's head in your bed.

Did Alex Trebeck know about the existence of the Higgs boson?
All along.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* Yes, I was so excited to hear about the discovery of the God Particle, I lost my lunch! (depicted above)

Regis for President!

 

Hail to the Chief!

If you've been anywhere near a television this entire week, you know one thing:

The next President of the United States should be
 Regis Philbin! 

And I am today announcing that I am the volunteer head of the newly-formed  "Committee to  Draft Regis Philbin For President of the United States - 2012!" 

Here's why Regis is the most qualified person in the nation to be your next President:

1) America loves him!  You've seen it all:  Regis is a combination Joe DiMaggio, Harrison Ford, Astronaut John Glenn, George Clooney, Beatles, Elvis, Lady Gaga, Batman, Scarlett Johansson, {insert whoever you think is really cool here but it's probably Regis anyway so don't bother},  and of course,  Justin (Beiber and Timberlake!).  He is all things to all people.  

Regis is chocolate if chocolate were a person!

2) Would that face lie to you?  

3) You can't help but like him.   Think Ahmadinejad could resist the Regis charm?

"Gelman!  Gelman!  Pull up a chair for my friend Mahmoud!   Mahmoud, we don't want to go out of control!  You don't want nuclear weapons,  Mahmoud,  what you really want is a night on the town in New York City with Kelly Ripa!" 

Missile crisis defused. 

4) He knows how to work with vice-presidential types.  And if he could work with Kathie Lee Gifford,  he could easily handle Dick Cheney.

5) Gridlock?  What Gridlock?  Regis could bring Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher back together by 9:07 including a commercial break.  Don't be surprised if  Congressman Barney Frank and Newt Gingrich aren't next!

6) His wife Joy would  make a lovely First Lady.  As she's demonstrated from her countless televison appearances, Joy Philbin is poised, intelligent, and at 70 still even  a bit hot.  And if anything should happen to her, Kathie Lee would lose no time leaping in to fill the void! 

7) He appears to still have pretty good hair.  America will never elect a bald president other than one that was more or less responsible for winning World War II.  Regis' hair looks darn good for somebody his age, and if it isn't all his, who the hell cares? 

8) He is a friend to the Jews.  Gelman and Joey Bishop, to name just two.

9) He's worked with many beautiful women over the years.  Who knows?  Maybe Regis could help us older guys get chicks! 

10) He needs a job.

Just a minute, folks, I think I hear Regis calling me!

Nah, he was just calling for Gelman.

Which is a good thing!  Because, folks, I have an awful lot of work to do and ...

 I'm out of control!

 

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

The Little Emoticon

תי:

The Little Emoticon had a smile
that could cheer up just about anybody
 .... except you! 

Another Modern Children's Classic
By Perry Block

One upon a time, there was a very nice and kindly man named Gil Petto who lived in a pleasant little town named Collodiville, somewhere far, far away. 

When he was young, Gil had tried to find success as an actor, but he was continually cast in subpar theatrical productions such as The Smell of Music, Rent with an Option to Buy, and Spiderman: Turn Off the Reviews. He retired from show business to become an accountant only to discover he was allergic to the number "8."  Finally he found a career for himself selling used dental floss.

Gil had been unlucky in love as well. For most of his life, he had dreamed of a wife and family. He especially wanted to have a son, but he would have been content with a butch daughter as well.

Marital bliss, however, was not to be. Gil married an attractive but pretentious woman who, knowing Gil was a failed actor and accountant who sold used dental floss, naturally planned for their home in the Hamptons to be constructed in a sort of Beaux Arts style as contrasted with the retro decor of the mansion in Majorca.

After a few years and about the time that Gil's wife was beginning to realize that "biggie sizing" was to be a twice yearly "hell to the winds" frivolity, she  assuaged her frustration by taking a series of lovers. Although Gil was by nature a patient man, the discovery that fading male model Fabio now ran a home remodeling business and had signed on for a year-long renovation of his wife's panties did cause some concern.

The final straw came the day that Gil arrived home early only to find the Kansas City Chiefs and the Norman Luboff Choir arguing over who had dibs to the upstairs hall bathroom.

Crestfallen, Gil retired to a solitary life, spending virtually all his time on Twitter. But though he was lonely  --- as one tends to be when your best friends are @aplusk, @andersoncooper, and @crudface99 --- Gil did come to enjoy fashioning and implementing emoticons, those cute little smiley faces composed of keyboard keystrokes that function as the virtual laugh track of the social networking world.

(Note#1:  I may copyright that phrase. Hands off!)

One evening shortly before bed, Gil wrote a tweet he hoped would be entertaining but which frankly made Tracy Morgan's standup seem like The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Gil knew that he would need a very special emoticon indeed to accompany such a tweet to con people into actually thinking it was funny.

Though not himself Jewish, Gil wanted to use the letters for the expression chai which represents L'Chaim or "to life."  Those letters are actually a het and a yud,  but Gil knew little of the Hebrew alphabet so he mistakenly typed the similar-to-het-looking letter tav.

(Note #2: So I tweaked things a bit. Whaddya going to do, call my rabbi?!!)

Gil tenderly accessed the two Hebrew letters from MS Word Symbols and gently added a simple English language colon.  And when he had completed all the keystrokes needed to create the special emoticon, like Dr. Frankenstein but without the crazed look and wild hair, he gazed upon his creation.

"My Little Emoticon!" he cried aloud. "You are beautiful!   Well, maybe not exactly Justin Bieber but ....."  

And this is what he saw:

תי:

The Little Emoticon had the happiest most cheerful smile ever, a smile which couldn't help but make even the most miserable, curmudgeonly, and misanthropic among us feel happy and cheerful too! 

Well, maybe not you.  

Gil applied The Little Emoticon to his pathetically unfunny tweet, and sure enough it became as funny as the movie Role Models starring Paul Rudd and Seann Michael Scott, also starring Jane Lynch.

And Gil was thrilled that The Little Emoticon was half Jewish as well.

"However, I do hope, My Little Emoticon,"  said Gil, "that you turn out to be Jewish only above the waist, not below!"

When Gil got into bed, he said aloud:

"If only The Little Emoticon could be real boy! Or a butch female, but all things being equal, I'd prefer a boy."

Nighttime passed and a blue shadow spread itself softly across Gil's PC, accompanied by the faint fluttering of wings. It was 7:00 A.M. when Gil, not quite awake, heard a voice.

"Dad?  Dad?  Is that you?" said the voice.

Through the early morning haze, Gil saw a figure. It was five feet tall, composed entirely of keyboard keystrokes, and half Jewish!   Though at this early stage of development, no telling which half was Jewish.

"Emo!  Emo! Is it really you? Or is it Memorex?"  cried Gil, overjoyed at what had taken place but also clearly showing his age as well as the reason his tweets sucked so badly and were so unfunny.

Gil Petto's impossible dream had come true ....

At first everything was wonderful.  The Little Emoticon was as gentle, sweet, and kind as his happy, cheerful smile would suggest.  He always did everything Gil asked him, ate all his vegetables including arugula, and graciously appeared in all Gil's tweets, no matter how totally and pathetically lame and unfunny they were.

However, when he went to school The Little Emoticon, being made up of keyboard keystrokes rather than flesh and blood, was made fun of by the other children. They called him mean nicknames like "Num Lock," and  told him that he would never be man enough to  "Enter," Insert," and "Page Up, Page Down," --- whatever all that meant. 

The other children's taunting made the poor Little Emoticon weep many bitter apostrophe tears which looked like this  ,,,,,,,,,,   ,,,,,,,,, from his two little colon eyes.

Gradually the other children badgered him to appear in tweets where he had no earthly reason to be:

• He appeared in a tweet for Rupert Murdoch, his joyful smile rendering hacking of private phone accounts a hilarious thing.

• He appeared in a tweet on behalf of Presidential candidate Herman Cain in which laughs a plenty were garnered by the sight of a cigarette dangling from his tav. 

• He appeared in a tweet for the NRA extolling how truly funny it is to be gunned down by an assault rifle.

Finally came the last straw, not to be confused with the final straw earlier in our story.  Gil received a call from the police that The Little Emoticon had been found wandering around stoned-out-of-his-tav in a tweet written by comedian Bob Saget! 

Whatever was a smiley face emoticon doing in a place like that?!!! 

"Emo, my son," said a heavy-hearted Gil Petto, "I'm afraid it's all my fault for asking you to appear in my pathetically unfunny tweets."

"Dad," said The Little Emoticon, "it is not your fault.  Deep down I'm rotten, just like Eve Harrington in All About Eve, Veda in either of the two versions of Mildred Pierce,    :-(  from Perry Block's idiotic posts, or even    from Gmail itself!"

"No, No!" said Gil, " I don't believe that! Perhaps you are ill!"  Gil suddenly noticed that The Little Emoticon did look a bit green around the yud. 

Gil felt The Little Emoticon's forehead --- that is, the space right above his colon (Of course I realize how ridiculous that sounds!) --- and yes, Emo was burning up as hot as a Johnny Depp movie, excluding The Tourist, of course. 

"My God, Emo, you have a virus!" shouted Gil.

Gil gently lifted up The Little Emoticon and carried him over to the PC where he ran Norton 360 Premier Edition (by Symantic).

"NORTON! NORTON!"  bellowed Gil, now really showing his age.  "Scan my boy Emo for viruses right away .... BANG ZOOM!"

As it turned out, Norton found and fixed over 37 serious risks in The Little Emoticon including several cookies, which believe it or not even in 2011 I still don't know what they are but I'm sure they were delicious.

"Dad!" cried The Little Emoticon. "I may still be partially a colon, but I'm no longer an asshole!"

At once there came a blue shadow against the window and a sound of fluttering, and a young woman with two white feathery wings and a golden wand in her hand flew directly through the window into Gil's house! 

Not much of a security system Gil had; he ought to look into it.

"Hello, Gil," the woman said. "I'm The Blue Fairy.  I brought The Little Emoticon to life to comfort you in your loneliness.  Also frankly I had the weekend free; I don't know many single guys in this town."

"Thank you so much for the gift of life, Blue Fairy!"  exclaimed Gil.  "I'm sure my Dad will slip you a couple of bucks."

"That's not why I'm here, Emo," said The Blue Fairy.  I have one more very important thing to do now that you have proven your heart is good and pure --- with the help of Norton by Symantic. And don't get me started about McAfee!" 

"You're going to make my Dad's tweets funny?" asked Emo.

"No, Emo," said The Blue Fairy, "some things are beyond even my powers. Just remember from now on:  Stay True to Yourself!  Don't Appear in Lame Tweets! And Most Importantly, You Don't Have to Eat Arugula, Whatever the Hell It Is!"

With that, The Blue Fairy waved her wand over the head of The Little Emoticon.  he Little Emoticon began to feel strange.

"Dad, what's happening?!!" he called out in fright. "Is this puberty?"

The Little Emoticon was literally transforming before Gil's startled eyes! 

"Emo!" shouted Gil with joy.  "You're becoming a real boy! 

Emo's tav and yud gave way to a nose and a happy cheerful smile and an entire human body!  Emo's colon transformed itself into bright and inquisitive blue eyes and, of course, a colon.  (And that makes three colon jokes, so that's the last one, folks!)

"This is fantastic!" cried Gil as he embraced his new flesh and blood son."It's incredible what you can do with that wand."

"Thank you, Gil," said the Blue Fairy. "Maybe a little bit later you and I can get together and discuss what you can do with your wand!"

And so Emo --- The Little Emoticon no longer --- lived happily ever after with his parents Gil and Blue Fairy Petto in a pleasant little town named Collodiville, somewhere far, far away.  

As Emo grew into a young man, as Fate would have it, he did indeed prove to be Jewish only above the waist, not below! As for the other half --- well, as Fate would also have it --- Collodiville was in Italy and Gil Petto was Italian!

Now how's that for a happy ending?

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

Note: Positively no emoticons were harmed in the making of this blog post.

NapkinDad!

Characters

James Bond – Agent 007 ................................... Sean Connery
M – Head of the British Secret Service ………….......... Bernard Lee
NapkinDad – Evil Mastermind ....................... @TheNapkinDad 
Gabryyl* – Woman of Mystery ................................. @Gabryyl
Kristenry - New Partner to 007 ............................. @Kristenry 
Miss SarahGale Penny - Secretary to M .............. @SarahGale

*Note 1:  Although it has since changed, at the time she starred in NapkinDad! Gabryyl was was using on her Twittersite  an avatar of a beautiful woman's eye, and it is upon this avatar which her character is premised. Cool with that, folks?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note 2:

It all began as a shameless Twitter ploy to attract followers to my blog … and probably should have ended that way! A while back I issued a tweet offering to mention the next follower of this blog, “Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute,” in an upcoming blog post. Miraculously, not just one --- but four --- wonderful tweeters took me up on it.

Realizing I now had the cast for a major Hollywood motion picture, I decided to star them in a more grand scale production. So, after months of hard work, retakes, budget woes, and dealing with those ever-present Hollywood egos, I am proud to present to you the four great tweeters shown above starring in the new James Bond Thriller, NapkinDad!

Even if this all turns out to suck, you ought to follow them!

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

Scene 1

Office of M, Head of the British Secret Service.

M (to himself): Hope 007 makes it on time. The most important mission we’ve ever had, and it’s all in his lap --- so to speak. Someone’s coming … who’s there?

Bond enters, suavely.

Bond:  Bond. (pause) James Bond. 

 M: Why do you always say your name that way, 007?

Bond: Because I always blank on my first name, damn it! But I’m in therapy, it’ll work out.

M: 007, ever hear of a man named NapkinDad?

Bond: Of course! Paints wonderful pictures on napkins. I follow him on Twitter.

M: Well, we have reason to believe your Mr.NapkinDad is secretly attempting to acquire the entire world’s supply of napkins!

Bond: For what purpose? To throw a dinner party for the cast of Glee? To construct a bib for New Jersey Governor Chris Christie?

M: We don't yet know. We only know one thing: He loves only napkins!

Voice of Shirley Bassey: He loves only Napkins! Only Napkins! He loves Napkins!!! ........

(Okay, so it's really the theme to "Goldfinger." Extrapolate!  It's the best we can do.)

M: Find out what he’s up to and stop him, 007! I fear for the lower lips and chins of every man, woman, and child in the free world. By the way, I’m assigning you a partner on this case.

Bond: Another double O agent, sir?

M: No, you’re going to be working with a new agent, a young woman named Kristenry.

Bond: Does she carry a license to kill?

M: No. But she does have a license to do The Three Stooges eye poke.

Bond: Just as effective. You know, M, I’ve always wondered: Why don’t you have any other letters in your name?

M: It’s a Jewish thing, 007. I was named after a deceased uncle.

Bond: His name was M?

M: No, it was Murray. Thought M a bit more rakish than Murray Plotstein! Now get to work and no mildly sexual innuendo-filled playful banter with Miss SarahGale Penny on the way out!

Bond lightly bows to M and exits room, suavely.

Scene 2

Bond and Kristenry approach the entrance to NapkinDad Enterprises.

Kristenry: It’s really an honor to work with you, 007.

Bond: I imagine it would be. Just stick close to me, Kristenry, and do what I do.

Bond opens the door, stumbles over the entrance, trips into the building lobby nearly knocking over a tropical fish tank, and falls squat on the floor.

Kristenry: You were saying ….

Bond: (rising) Well, not everything I do!

Gabryyl comes forward through the lobby, walking up to Bond and Kristenry.

Gabryyl: Hello, I’m Ms. Gabryyl, Mr. NapkinDad’s personal assistant. Whom may I say is falling…. I mean, calling.

Bond:   My name’s Frumpkin. (pause) Al Frumpkin.   

Gabryyl: Why do you say your name that way, Mr. Frumpkin?

 Bond: Because I always blank on my first name, damn it! But I’m in therapy, it’ll work out.

Gabryyl:  What business do you have with Mr. NapkinDad, Mr. Frumpkin?

Bond: My associate, Ms. Kristenry, and I have an offer to make Mr. NapkinDad. We believe he will find it as appealing as Kleenex Double Ply Paper Napkins in the all-new decorative Cinnamon Spice dispenser!

Gabryyl: Then come right this way!

Gabryyl leads the two of towards NapkinDad’s office.

Bond: May I say, Ms. Gabryyl, you have the most beautiful eye I’ve ever seen! And, you have two of them! That’s a good number for eyes.

Gabryyl: (with apparent appreciation) Thank you, Mr. Bond, you’re very kind. Yes, I’ve always favored two myself.

The three enter the office of NapkinDad, who gets up from his desk when they enter.

NapkinDad: Thank you, Ms. Gabryyl. Whom do we have here?

Bond: I’m Al Frumpkin, Mr. NapkinDad. This is Ms. Kristenry. I’ll come to the point: I have access to a rare shipment of never used cocktail napkins from the May 14, 1995 Bar Mitzvah of Jeffrey Herzberg at Temple Boray Perry Hagulfen in White Plains, NY. Interested?

NapkinDad : Oh my word, yes! They’re gilt-edged with artist renderings of Jeffrey sweating profusely in an ill-fitting suit in front of the Torah. Priceless!

Bond: As was Jeffrey’s Saturday night affair with 12 piece band, carving stations, and whiskey sour fountain! You are indeed an expert, Mr. NapkinDad!

NapkinDad: I must have them, Mr. Frumpkin!

Bond: Fine, but first I have to make sure your money’s green. Or at least a light turquoise with lavendar background and mauve highlights.

NapkinDad: Ms. Gabryyl will take you to dinner and discuss all the particulars you will need to know. Meanwhile, I’ll give Ms. Kristenry a tour of my World of Napkins History Exhibit. Did you know, Ms. Kistenry, that Leonardo Da Vinci invented the floral design napkin?

Scene 3

Bond and Gabryyl are at dinner in a posh restaurant later that day.

Gabryyl: So, Mr. Frumpkin: have you always been an eye man?

Bond: Yes, Gabryyl. To me, there’s nothing in the world like a woman in a burka.

Gabryyl: And how do you find my eyes?

Bond: I just look slightly above your nose and there they are!

Gabryyl: You are an intriguing man, Mr. Frumpkin! Did I perhaps ever meet you on Twitter?

Bond: Yes, I tweet a bit, but nothing like you have …. With your nefarious scheme to take over Twitter three years ago!

Gabryyl: You recognized me! Yes, I tried a Twitter take-over! Say that fast five times!

Bond: You sent out tweets urging the Twitterverse to rise up against @aplusk! Bad business, that!

Gabryyl: Yes, and it would have worked too --- if only @AndersonCooper and @ShitMyDadSays hadn’t throw their support behind @aplusk! But I’m a changed woman, Mr. Frumpkin, now that I work for Mr. NapkinDad!

Bond: You admire him greatly?

Gabryyl: Oh yes. As totally obsessive egomaniacs go, he’s the best. He wants to create a bridge of napkins from coast to coast to show how all the world is linked by linen! Isn’t that stirring?

Bond: I’m shaken, not stirred.

Gabryyl: Oh, I see a bit of egg noodle on your cheek, Mr. Frumpkin. Let me get it with this bodacious yet charming beige and burgundy restaurant napkin.

As Gabryyl wipes Bond’s face, he instantly falls forward, his head splashing into his soup. The napkin is drugged!

Gabryyl (to Bond, with remorse) I’m sorry, James; It has to be this way. (to the waiter) Excuse me, waiter, there’s a British agent in my soup!

The waiter helps Gabryyl lift Bond and they both begin carrying him out of the restaurant.

Scene 4

Back in the headquarters of NapkinDad. NapkinDad and Gabryyl stand over Bond.

NapkinDad: Wake up, Mr. Bond. Wake up!

Bond: (coming to) Hello. You’re either NapkinDad or the biggest matzo ball I’ve ever seen!

NapkinDad: Laugh now, Mr. Bond! Since you won’t leave here alive, would you like me to tell you about my evil value proposition?

Bond: Why not? Slow day otherwise.

NapkinDad: It’s true I seek to acquire every last napkin in the world. Linen, paper, sanitary…. You name it!

Bond: But how?

NapkinDad: Many ways --- by purchase, theft, by always asking for a lot more napkins than we actually need whenever we’re at Olive Garden….

Gabryyl: Once we’ve got all of the world’s napkins, James, whenever anyone anywhere in the world sits down to a meal, they’ll have nothing to place in their laps. Unless they should get lucky with their dates!

NapkinDad: We live, Mr. Bond, in a world filled with mustard, ketchup, barbecue sauce, chocolate pudding, and my own personal favorite, zesty ranch dressing with bacon bits and locks of Justin Bieber’s hair!

Gabryyl: Without napkins, there’ll be millions and millions of previous undreamt-of stains on Capri pants, dresses, skirts, nightgowns, frilly robes ….

NapkinDad: And even on clothing worn by women too!

Bond: But how does that help you? Are you going to go door to door slurping ranch dressing stains off of people’s cargo shorts?

Gabryyl: It helps us by strengthening our special partners in our plan for world domination!

Bond: Your special partners?

NapkinDad: Yes, Mr. Bond! The World's Dry Cleaners!

Gabryll:  James!  You mean,  you didn’t know all dry cleaners throughout the world are evil?

Bond: My God! I’ve long suspected it …

NapkinDad: You know how sometimes they put a stain in your clothing that wasn’t there to begin with and then deny it to your face? I MADE THAT ONE UP MYSELF!! Ah hah hah hah hah!!!

Bond: You fiend!

Gabryyl: Dry cleaners everywhere will jack up their prices even higher --- if that’s possible --- and a desperately stained populace will pay the tow!

Bond: And you will use your share of the evil profits to finance mayhem and insurrection throughout the world! But how did you know who I was?

Kristenry enters the room.

Bond: Oh, Kristenry, good. Go ahead, tell NapkinDad to pick out two.

Kristenry: No, 007. They knew who you were because I told them! Because I am not Kristenry at all, but a master of disguise --- one who wears many hats.

Kristenry removes a full head mask to reveal ….

Bond: Blofeld! Ernst Stavro Blofeld!

Blofeld: The one and only, Mr. Bond! To ensure success of our dastardly plan, I infiltrated the Secret Service pretending to be a tweeter from West Chester PA. Lovely place by the way … and we get to root for the Phillies!

Bond: I’m not sure whether to feel silly or sad about the whole thing!

Blofeld: Feel sad, Mr. Bond! (approaches Bond with a hanger, plastic bag, and dry cleaner's ticket) You’re about to be cleaned, pressed, and double-bagged! Ah hah hah hah!

Bond: In that case, Blofeld, I’d like to be ready for pick-up by Thursday, if possible.

Bond notices Miss SarahGale Penny sneaking into the room behind the others, brandishing a bottle of Cabernet. Miss SarahGale Penny smashes Blofeld over the head but does not knock him out, and all three villains turn in her direction...

Bond: Great work, SarahGale Penny! Compelling yet poignant!

Bond lunges forward and with moves that make Jackie Chan look like the kid who was picked last in gym class --- y'know, like you and me --- he disarms Blofeld of his uncompleted laundry ticket, knocks both Blofeld and NapkinDad unconscious, and wrestles Gabryyl to the ground.

Gabryyl: Oooohhhh! So sorry, James! (collapses, falling unconscious.)

Bond: I’m sorry too, Gabryyl. Think maybe I’ll be a uvula man from now on. (to Miss SarahGale Penny) And how did you come to be here, SarahGale Penny?

SarahGale Penny: You and I didn’t have the opportunity to engage in our usual mildly sexual innuendo-filled playful banter back in the office, James. Thought we’d catch up with it now.

Bond: What do you  say we deliver this would-be Triumverate of Evil to M, SarahGale Penny, and enjoy your bottle of Cabernet together?

SarahGale Penny: Wonderful, James! But what if we should spill any of it? Wherever would we get any …

Bond: (innocently) Napkins?

Voice of Shirley Bassey: NapkinDad! He’s the man, the man with the Marcal touch ….…

Extropolate!  Extrapolate!       

The End of NapkinDad

But James Bond will be back in ….

The Spy who Sanitized Me

(in 3-D!)

Credits Role.

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

Hail to the Tag Team!

Seal of the Plural Presidents of the United States of America

We now enter into what is known in American politics as a “lame duck” session of Congress.

Perhaps never in history have those two words more appropriately defined our elected leaders: “lame” as in their general abilities for governing and “duck” as in how most of them act when it comes to discussing anything beyond the audible stench their opponent leaves when entering or exiting a room.

Our system is fatally flawed, folks, and the only good thing about that is how handsomely it showcases my talent for alliteration. Most often the kind of person who runs for political office is a charming but unctuous, none-too-bright butt-face. You know --- just like your cousin Harry, except with much better hair. The kind of person who should run for office is an intelligent, thoughtful, conscientious nerd-face. You know --- just like you and me, except also intelligent, thoughtful, and conscientious.

I hereby present my idea for improving the governance of our nation: the Plural Presidency and the Conjoined Congress of the United States!

 Effective immediately every position in American Government will be filled by a tag team. America will finally get both the Quality Governing and the Artificial Surface Charm we so crave, all while simultaneously reducing the national unemployment rate by 537 additional persons!

In the new American Political System, the Front will make the speeches, attend the dinners, kiss the babies, and kiss you and/or me in the pale moonlight as applicable. The Front must be beautiful, poised, and energetic but may be every bit as dumb as a fencepost which insists on lying horizontally, or as Levi Johnston.

The Wonk will study and reflect upon the issues and tell the Front in clear non-compound sentences exactly what to say and do about them. Although the Wonk must be brilliant, perceptive, and innovative, he or she may be as photogenic as a Mel Gibson mug shot and possess charisma such as to make a Securities and Exchange Commission Filing look like a Kim Kardashian photo-shoot.

We could keep some of our same politicians. Sarah Palin would be the perfect Front for a Presidential ticket, but who the hell would ever be stupid enough to consider her for the Wonk? And virtually every unemployed actor in Hollywood would be lining up to audition as the Front for Democratic seats in Congress.  Assuming, that is, there are any left.

All right now, folks we give you the Dream Team:

Ladies and Gentleman,

• Presenting the Wonk President of the United States, Dr. Melvin Sniggledorf, Professor of Governmental Affairs International, Domestic, and Local Down to the Guy Who Fines You if You Put a Deck On Your House Without Shtupping Him First of the University of Havertown PA.

• A man whose Grand Canyon's Got Nothing on Me-Style acne and Kilimanjaro-Besting dandruff are guaranteed to induce ralphing if you're so appallingly ill-advised as to attend one of his classes on a full stomach,

• And a man whose shell-shocked students have year after year failed each and every one of his Might as Well Be Taught in Coptic Greek courses while simultaneously voting him "Professor Most Likely to Outsell Ambien if You Could Just Bottle Him," and

• the Front President of the United States --- awww, so cute you just want to eat him up! --- Mr. Justin Bieber,

• the two - count 'em - two Plural Presidents of the United States of America!

Just try to take them on, Mr. Ahmadinejah!

Will tag-team government work ….. or is it the worst Idea I’ve had since I recommended Charlie Rangel be put in charge of the House Christmas Fund?

Please let me know what you think.

Or better yet, what your Wonk thinks!

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Kathryn, I Hardly Knew Ye....

Directress of my Dreams! 

In fact, Kathryn, I didn't know ye at all. 

But if I had know ye enough to have called ye "ye," believe me, a battalion of anti-semites couldn't have wiped the smile off my face! 

Yes, it is time to say goodbye!  And Parting is such sweet sorrow, dear Kathryn Bigelow, 58 year old Directress of my Dreams! Especially when there wasn't any Meeting and Striking up a Charming Friendship with Intimations of Romance in the first place. Parting without first Meeting and Striking up a Charming Friendship with Intimations of Romance makes Parting all the more sorrowful, Kathryn, because there isn't any really cool stuff between the two of them to tell all your male friends about.

But, oh, Kathryn, the lack of our actually ever co-existing in the same time zone never stopped us!  We spoke a language known only to us --- I think it was pig latin with a touch of Yiddish.

Scribes tell us, Kathryn, that you entered this world on November 27, 1951.  A bare 14 months earlier, I too had made my first imprint upon the planet.  How did I ever endure those barren first months of lonely existence?  I was a listless child, never once seeking to set forth outside my crib.  That's not totally surprising, because I didn't make it out of the crib for good until January 21, 1963, and that was only because somebody turned off The Match Game.

But once I sensed deep within my soul, Kathryn, that you had joined me in this earthly realm, everything became new!  I sucked my pacifier with renewed verve and intensity and continue to do so to this day!  The earthly journey of two kindred spirits had begun , slowed only because I initially forgot to pack underwear.

From then on, our lives paralleled each other's in every respect.  I boldly pioneered new vistas in inertia, punctuated by occasional death-defying forays into the kitchen for snacks. You became a world-famous director whose life was replete with success, glory, fame, and marriage to an annoying looking guy with hair like former rock star Johnny Winter, only shorter.  

Despite the hectic schedules that kept us apart, when we were together, the universe could not help but smile. In fact, the universe would kind of smirk, which made you want to just smack it whenever it briefly looked away.

Those moments that we were alone together!  You remember those moments!  No, I guess you don't remember those moments because those moments didn't exist in objective reality!  But in whoever's mind they did exist (gee, wonder who it coudda been), there you were emitting sounds of such savage animalistic abandon as to make the sun, moon, and stars bewail the fact that they were not themselves sexually active.

But now it's time to say goodbye.  To all our company, M-I-C-K-E-Y ** M-O .... wait!  I ought to be saying goodbye to you, fair Kathryn, not Mickey Mouse!  I ought to be spelling K-A-T-H-R-Y-N!  Actually I ought to be not doing this joke at all because only Boomers like you and I will understand it, and millenials will tune out to scan Twitter for the latest mentions of Justin Bieber.

But let me shout it to the rooftops!  Actually maybe I'll just shout it to the garage, I'm kinda exhausted from all this fare-thee-well rigamarolle.

Kathryn, I love thee with all my heart!  And also with a half dozen of my lesser organs!

Did that get me anywhere with you?  No?  Okay, I'll get the hell out of here.

But before I take my final leave, know this, fair Kathryn:  I would do anything for thee!

Except maybe sit through The Hurt Locker.

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