The Cruelest Month

Ah, the Beauty of the Fall.  Know what?

Shut the hell up!

"April is the cruelest month," once wrote the poet, revealing himself to have been woefully ignorant of the true nature of the seasons of the year as well as of the concerns of one Perry Block, regardless of how good he might have been at personification and bowling over the ladies at parties. 

No, that cruelest of all months is the one underway.  September, for me, is the Simon Cowell of the Gregorian calendar.

September marks the end of Summer. It’s the time I realize that not only did I fail to do all those outdoorsy things I hoped to during the last three months,  the one time I made it to the beach the water was 58 degrees, the top of my head got so sunburned I resembled a human flashlight, and the only attractive woman who talked to me on the beach asked if she could bury me .... that is, completely.

With September comes the Fall.  So this is your favorite time of year, huh?  To me, September marks the beginning of a season characterized by the impending death of all things green, growing,  and alive, with the one exception of the Incredible Hulk. 

That nip in the air?  It spells animals scurrying for cover as if the Luftwaffe were approaching and leaves and plants beginning to sag and shrivel like your Aunt Hilda's face before she had the work done,  and meanwhile all you can talk about is where to get cider.

Those shortening days? In a couple of months, Nature will  be throwing its leafy little hands up to its dainty neck and doing a command performance of the final scene from Camille, and there you go hopping on a hayride. 

September sets this all up as coolly and deliberately as a bartender at 4:00 P.M.  All while you're busy bobbing for apples.

September marks the annual return to reading, ritin', n' 'rithmetic.  Doesn't matter how long it's been since I've been in school, every September I walk about inquiring of everyone if they got their books yet, who they have for homeroom, and if that hot Nicole Halaylos is in any of their classes.

It's a compulsion I cannot control. How about you?

Oh, I forgot.  You're still slurping cider.

And worst of all, for the 41st year in a row seems I’ve gotten Miss Kretchmer in Geometry.  She's still mean, she still doesn't grade on the curve, and OMG! she just called on me in class!

And September presents the anniversary of my birth. This year I will be 61 years old on September 12th.  

That's right --- my freshness seal expired deep into the last century.  I am "better if used before September 12, 1982," although few now would rightly want to use me anyway.

Nevertheless, every year the date September 12 sees fit to drop another unwanted digit on the mass of digits it has already mercilessly deposited upon me.  I am annually being rung up like a cash register by the month of September itself!  

This is indeed the cruelest part of the cruelest month of the year.

“Try to remember the kind of September,” once wrote the songwriter, revealing himself to be have been woefully ignorant of the true nature of the seasons of the year as well as of the concerns of one Perry Block, regardless of how good he might have been at rhyming three syllable words and bowling over the ladies at parties.

Try to remember the kind of September?

There’s 21 days ahead of me I’d like to forget!

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The Impossible Dream

 "My Boy Bill, I will see that he's named ...."
 

He’s explained it all at last.  And who'd ever have guessed?

In an interview appearing in this week’s Newsweek/Parade/High Times Magazine, Former Vice–President Dick Cheney has finally explained the reason for his trademark obnoxious and offensive manner which has rendered him the last person on earth you'd ever want to hang with unless you have a full-blown death wish and hope to be accidentally shot.

“It’s my love of Broadway musical theatre,” Mr. Cheney revealed in the interview. “I always longed to be a song and dance man but my parents said I should do something practical, that I didn’t have the looks for show business. I told them Jason Alexander doesn’t have the right looks either and he sings and dances, but they told me that was years ago, he's so typecast as George Costanza now he can't even get a Rolled Gold Pretzel deal anymore!'”

“So I entered politics,” said Cheney,” but it was torturous for me to sit in meetings discussing NATO alliances and Middle Eastern oil rights when all I could hear over and over in my head was  'My Boy Bill, I will see that he’s named after me .... I will!' ”

"Wait a minute!  Could it be?  What if he ...."

"As Vice-President, I knew we had to invade Iraq the moment I learned Sadam Hussein had made it mandatory that all Iraqis attend at least one performance of Momma Mia!   A brutal monster like that had to be destroyed!"

“The conflicts I had with Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice all stemmed from the horrible things they said about my favorite musical,  Avenue Q,  and the song  It Sucks to Be Me.  Their comments even made several of the puppets in the show cry,” said Mr. Cheney, his voice choked with emotion.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been out of sorts at times,” said Mr. Cheney “but I’m going to be a sweetheart from now on.  You see, I’m finally following my dream and next week I open on Broadway in the revival of Paint Your Wagon! I hope Condi and Colin will come to the opening as my guests, because I’m singing the show stopper They Call the Wind Mariah!  

And I’ll be singing it, America,  just for YOU!

HIT IT, MAESTRO!

Oh way out West, they got a name

For rain and wind and fire,

The rain is Tess, the fire's  Joe

And they call the Wind  ....

MARIAH!!!

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The Mystery of Adnan and Evie

WTF?

It falls to me this evening to set down in writing the strange discovery made by my archeological party and me during our dig last month in a region of the Middle East which lies comfortably within the historically defined area known as the Fertile Crescent.  

I sense that what we have discovered may be without precedent. Indeed I have never seen anything like this, and I --- Professor Lance Lewitsky of the for-profit Community College of Burford Montana --- have been studying archeology for over 35 years, ever since I first learned that there was no gym class required.

It was on the fourth day of our expedition that we made the discovery.  As our dig moved near to an unusually large tree of indeterminate fruit, we unearthed a gigantic fossil in the shape of an enormous human-like hand.  The hand was outstretched with its index finger pointing at something … or someone.

It was the biggest hand any one of us had ever seen, and I used to have season tickets to the Lakers. Furthermore the finger nails were finely manicured, the cuticles were unbitten, and the life line extended all the way from the wrist around the palm onto the back of the hand and back to the wrist. Several hundred times. 

Whoever this hand was attached to, he or she may hardly ever die!

We took several photographs of the hand fossil. Each one of them shows all 15 members of our team fitting comfortably within its palm with ample room remaining for the hand to have reached over and grabbed a generous helping of popcorn, probably buttered.  Subsequent carbon dating of the hand fossil has revealed it to be about 6,000 years old, however, slightly before the advent of buttered popcorn.

But the giant hand was just the beginning. Several days later, we made an even more unique discovery.

Approximately 25 feet away from the spot where the index finger of the huge hand had been pointing, we uncovered the fossils of a nude man and woman. Both of them appeared to be staring at the giant hand, each bearing the same incredulous facial expression as if to be saying “What the fuck is this?”

For convenience sake, I have named the two figures "Adnan and Evie," two arbitrary names I picked out of a hat at random for no particular reason whatsoever.

Although Adnan appears to have suffered a small injury to the abdomen and may have even been missing a rib otherwise both Adnan and Evie appear to be in prime physical condition. Frankly Evie, preserved there as she is in the buff, is nothing less than smokin’ hot! 

From my observations I believe these two may have spent much of their lives cavorting joyfully in a secluded magical garden abounding with lush flora, fauna, and all of the glorious flowing wonders of the heavens and the earth.  It is my hypothesis that this idyllic existence continued until some judgmental being of undetermined origin apparently showed up and ruined everything. I surmise that this malignant entity was so unyielding that it would not even permit them to ingest the juicy appearing fruit from the nearby tree.

But let’s get back to the enormous hand. What could be the relationship between the giant hand and Adnan and Evie? One theory posits that the huge hand might have broughtest them forth unto the earth, fashioningest them from the dust, and/or even createsting them out of nothingness altogether.  Or perhaps it was merely tickling them or giving them the largest ever “got your nose” in human history.

It would be helpful if we could undertake further research on these discoveries, but funding is so difficult to come by.  I am constantly surprised by how many funding sources are controlled by politically and religiously conservative Republicans who are anti-science. I won’t even bother approaching them.

I was glad that we were able to return to the United States both on time and on budget at the end of our expedition. Due to a fortunate occurrence, the Atlantic Ocean parted in two so that our party could swiftly get across.

I’m not sure there is precedent for that either.

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Why Do I Do It?

Are these why I  do it?

I’ve been writing this blog now for a little over 1 ½ years and just recently polished off my 90th post.

Why do I do it …. besides the desire to bring a smile to the lips and a song to the heart of my fellow men and women?

Well, there’d better be another reason I do it because frankly I don’t give a crap about a smile to the lips and a song to the heart of my fellow men and women unless that smile to the lips of my fellow man is accompanied by huge handfuls of cash and that song to the heart of my fellow woman means my fellow woman's heart is beating one hell of a lot faster than it was just a few seconds ago without the both of us jogging.

Why do I do it?

Maybe mulling over a few things about myself might help me figure it out:

• I like to write in the nude. 

• However, I prefer to write fully dressed.  I only like to write in the nude when all my clothes are in the wash. And by “like to write it in the nude,” I mean “whaddya gonna do?”

• I believe that I have lived before. But it couldn’t have been that exciting; I don’t remember a thing! 

• I just can’t make up my mind whether it’s possible to Petition the Lord with Prayer.

• All you folks on Twitter:  Please follow @cubbysobe. For my money, the best tweets anywhere on Fractal Geometry and its Ultimate Reconciliation with the Euclidean Paradigm!

• The secret of my humor writing?  The juice of two whole lemons.

• If you ask me, I will come to your house and read some of my humor pieces to you in person. But NO funny business!

•  I'm frequently mistaken for Jewish. 

• To me, the Beatles were the predominant force in music, culture, and all human self-expression of the second half of the 20th Century. They influenced the way we look, act, think, and feel.  Even though I hate Paul McCartney, I would still die for him!

• And Ringo Starr as a former Beatle is to me royalty on the order of William and Kate. Had he not been one of the Beatles I would still readily give him the time of day, but if he wanted it to be accurate, I would charge him something for it.

• Petition the Lord with Prayer ..… Petition the Lord with Prayer….. Petition the ... hmmm…. 

• I’ve often wondered if it will go something like this when they break it to Alex Trebek that it’s time for him to hang it up as host of Jeopardy:

“Uh, Alex, we’re testing a clue for the show here, mind trying it out? It’s TV Hosts for a thousand, and the clue is “He’s boring, over the hill, and outta here.” Oh, there’s the buzzer, you didn’t get it! The answer is “Who is …..”

• Things I Find Highly Overrated: Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, the twitter feed @ShitMyDadSays, bright copper kettles, Tracy Morgan, and warm woolen mittens.

• Wanna slip out and meet me for a drink? Oh, you’re terrible!

• I make a darn good friend.  I'm always there for you when it's not much trouble, and I make it a definite point to pay back relatively promptly any money I’ve managed to guilt you into letting me borrow.

•  I will never in my writing employ cutesy phrases like Best. Movie. Ever. Why? Because they’re Lame. Annoying. And. Douche. Bagging.

• You cannot Petition the Lord with Prayer!  (Nailed it!)  

• I am a big fan of the long-running television program Dr. Who,  but I just don’t understand why they keep changing lead actors? Okay, I get it when you’re forced to make a strategic change once as in switching Darrens on Bewitched.  But 11 friggin’ times!!!?

• I have from time to time voted for principled and ethical Republicans in elections where I felt an individual Republican was the best available choice for the office in question. But I have always thrown up afterwards.

• I brake for animals. But I’d speed up for you.

I hope you found these things about me interesting and provocative --- although I can’t imagine why you would!

I guess it goes to show you  that someone can be both annoyingly self-deprecating and disgustingly self-absorbed at the same time.

Hey, how about that? There you go ….

That's why I do it!

TV Hosts for a thousand,  Alex, and the clue is “Your replacement, loser.”  Oh, there’s the buzzer, you didn’t get it!  The answer is “Who is ….."

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