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Category: Humor
From Ages Past
By F.O.B. William ~
At one by book was made of cotton
and on the cover was a great big cat.
I loved it and hugged it and gummed it,
until the time I began to chat.
At four my book had a nice hard cover
with thrilling stories of Dick and Jane and Spot,
I must confess, however,
that I don’t remember a single plot.
My eighth grade book was big and fat
was written by some old English dude.
His lines were sometimes strange and funny
but to find fault would be so very rude.
The books in high school and college were very huge
and some were very difficult to read.
The say though that I managed to get through them all,
but I did skip a lot of pages, this I must plead.
And now the old eyes have dimmed
and reading presents quite a lot of strain.
But now I have my great copy of Senior Times
and all, again, is right as rain.
A Palate Cleanser
Self Discovery
After a another stressful road-trip to Michigan, I came home to find that my water heater had given up the ghost. Well, it was in the process of dying. There it sat, in its dark little corner of the basement, seeping morosely, shedding little bits of rusty metal that used to be its insides—kinda disgusting when you think about it—staring at me accusingly.
No time for guilty recriminations, I hesitated not a trice! I sprang into action, zipped down to Lowe’s and purchased a new water heater. Note to the Lowe’s: What idiot decided it would be a good idea to put 125 lb. water heaters up on a shelf?? Steeled by grim purpose, I wrestled the behemoth into my car and brought it to its new home.
The old one was unceremoniously removed. Truth be told, I was a little angry at it for choosing to quit this life at the worst possible moment. After fussing and fuming over the arcana of plumbing fittings, I took a break to consider my position. The supply pipes are now too low and the gas pipe is too high. Time for a strategic retreat. Remind me some day to tell you the story of the Silver Sisyphus.
Glass of scotch in hand, I plopped down wearily on the couch to plan my next move. You’ll never guess what happened. As I sat there brooding over the prospect of a cold shower, I made a very interesting and valuable discovery:
I much prefer drinking scotch to installing water heaters.
Huh. Imagine that.
Preach it Brother!
Aw, for Cryin’ Out Loud!
Seems that some fat-headed, meatball, football fans in Texas are sick of the Cowboys losing, so they’ve started a petition to get the executive branch of the federal government to step in and remove Jerry Jones, the Cowboys owner, president, general manager, and night janitor.
I almost don’t know where to begin. There’s the basic lunacy of the idea, there’s the unhinged, sports fan angle, there’s the obvious, willful ignorance of how our republican form of democracy works, there’s the whole property rights issue I could address—can you say Lenin?—but I think this quote from the petition says it all:
We, the Citizens of the Great State of Texas, and Dallas Cowboys fans worldwide, have been oppressed by an over-controlling, delusional, oppressive dictator for way too long.
Hmmm…then they go on to request the removal of Jerry Jones because:
His incompetence and ego have not only been an extreme disappointment for way too long, but moreover, it has caused extreme mental and emotional duress.
Of course, this is probably a joke. So far, about 500 people have signed the petition. But with a tiny alteration, say substituting Jerry Jones’ name for the name of the guy the petition is addressed to, I’d sign it!
Rob, Don’t Eat It!
My apologies to Steve over at The Sneeze.
This is the week when Americans stuff themselves with all manner of gustatory delights. A traditional item found on our family sideboard at Thanksgiving is the venerable mincemeat pie. This is not really a dish common to people of our ancestry. Rather, its appearance on the Thanksgiving Day menu is due to the fact that my father loves the stuff. As does my oldest brother. In the entire family, they are the only ones I know of who enjoy mincemeat pie. And also because my father’s birthday is November 25th and it’s kind of a birthday treat.
Blah, blah, blah, get on with it, right?
So, every year I get the urge to try a piece. Every year the same thing happens…
Bleeeccchh!
How can something that smells so good, taste so bad? A typical list of ingredients—so they say—includes apples, cranberries, raisins, currants, candied orange peel, brown sugar, rum, brandy, butter, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, and cloves. Oh, and there’s probably nuts in there too. More traditional recipes also include suet. You read that right, suet. The stuff you put out for birds in the winter.
However, at our house, the mincemeat comes from a jar; a brown gelatinous mass, that glops into the pie shell inviting unappetizing comparisons. Still, it smells damn good while it’s baking. This year, I have determined to find out what it is about mincemeat that makes me cringe. The results of my research are shocking to say the least!
Continue reading “Rob, Don’t Eat It!”
