Twenty-five Lines My Friend's Wife Stole

So a friend sent me this email, and he's a writer, so I asked him if I could steal it for my blog (because what I was going to post today was really... less than optimal.) It turns out he didn't write it. His wife stole it from someone else, and he wants to know who it was who actually wrote it. Of course, the legally safe route is not to post this because the writer might sue me.

But then I'd know who the writer is! It's kind of brilliant – especially as I'm low on Pop Tarts and so there's very little I can be sued for.

So here it is. If you don't like it – don't sue me, sue whoever it was that wrote it – then tell who she/he is.

Blessed are the cracked, for they let in the light!

TWENTY FIVE LINES TO MAKE YOU SMILE !!!!

1.. My husband and I divorced over religious differences. He thought he was God and I didn't.

2. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.

3.. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.

4.. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.

5.. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive.

6.. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me

7.. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.

8.. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.

9.. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are missing.

10.... Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.

11.. NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy, why-the-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine.

12.. God must love stupid people; He made so many.

13.. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.

14.. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.

15.. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?

16.. Being 'over the hill' is much better than being under it!

17.. Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew up.

18.. I Have a Degree in Liberal Arts; Do You Want Fries With That?

19.. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!

20..They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.

21.. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless DEAD.

22.. Ham and eggs...A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.

23.. The trouble with life is there's no background music.

24.. The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.

25.. I smile because I don't know what the heck is going on.

And now a video I don't know who wrote either.

Bill Davidson, Karma, and the Missing Music Video

Christian minister, musician, and song-writer, Bill Davidson is a Facebook friend. I’m not sure friending on FB justifies me ripping him off. Back 12 years ago when Headley and the Rug (and Cral) was still on, I needed a tune to go with some lyrics I had. Being compositionally tone-deaf, I stole Bill’s tune to Sit Still Christian.

Here’s the link to see his album. link The music video I recorded was accidentally tossed or recorded-over by a slothful, slovenly, slimy station manager (but otherwise – a great guy.)

I guess that’s how karma works for us tune thieves.

Just a Poet

lyrics written by Headley Hauser, tune stolen by Headley Hauser

Oh I started out being

A stock re-arranger

A butts and beer barter

And a dollar changer

But the shirt didn’t fit

And the store keys, they got mislaid

So now I’m just a Poet

And I don’t even get paid

So then I thought I’d be

A taxi cab hopper

A prom picker-upper

and a late night stopper

But my record was bad

Enough tickets to bring down a raid

So now I’m just a poet

And I don’t even get paid

(bridge)

Hey I’m feeling a chill

Cause I’m just a poet

I eat nothing but swill

Cause I’m just a poet

And now it’s making me ill

(spoken)

They said I’d blow it as a poet

Don’t you know it

I once dreamed of being

A french fry flinger

A burger topper plopper

and an onion ringer

But BK said no way

I guess I didn’t make the grade

So now I’m just a poet

And I don’t even get paid

(bridge)

My chances are nill

Cause I’m just a poet

No more dreams left to fill

Cause I’m just a poet

If some looks, they could kill

(spoken)

There would be no more poet

Don’t you know it

So if you’re tired of being

A pizza driver or a tumbler

And you think you’d find it freeing

To be a versifying mumbler

Hey c’mon over here

You know I’d really like to trade

Cause I’m just a poet

And I don’t even get paid

(spoken)

C’mon now, don’t be afraid

Cause I’m just a poet

And I don’t even get paid

(spoken)

Hmmm how can I persuade?

Cause I’m just a poet

And I don’t even get paid

(spoken)

I should have been a sculptor

Here’s a vid of a very young Bill Davidson when he was with the 60s Salvation Army band, The Joy Strings. I think it’s him they focus on around a minute and 5 seconds, but I can’t be sure.

Cookie Story

Here’s something from the archives about Ben Affleck, cookies and the TSA. It’s from the time when the TSA and Homeland Security were taking over airports.

Ah, good times...

The video is the only one I could find on You Tube with both Affleck and the TSA in it. (warning – video is in bad taste, probably illegal, and contains strong language.)  Actually, I’m embarrassed to post it, but I’ve been including a video with each post and Robin, my blogging sensei, includes a video in each of his posts. So here’s a token video.   You might not want to watch it.

Really – don’t watch this video

Did you watch it? Didn’t like it, did you? Well, I… Never mind, here’s the story.

The Cookie Story

Adapted (partially stolen) by Headley Hauser

I was flying from Chicago to San Francisco so we naturally had to change planes in Miami. During the three-hour layover, I hung around security. In order to sneak fake wanted posters of over-rated movie stars into TSA notebooks, I pointed at small children yelling, “Achmed, what a great disguise, did you get through with the nose-hair clippers?” (It’s a little known fact that pilots and sky marshals are completely incapacitated if they have insufficient amounts of nose hair.).

Such thoughts left me a bit peckish (which is not nearly as dirty a word as I first thought it was). I decided to get a snack. The snack bar had gingersnaps in two sizes, the two-cookie pack for three dollars and the eight-pound box for three fifty. Not that I’ve ever been that fond of gingersnaps but I figured I’d fork over the extra four bits. I also bought a gourmet instant coffee with a package of dehydrated foam for six dollars.

I stuffed the cookies into my knapsack, grabbed my coffee, splashed a few drops on my shirt to appease karma and grabbed the last empty chair at my gate.

I’ve always considered people who blow on their coffee uncouth. I take a fist full of gingersnaps, dunk them in my coffee and wait for them to break up into moderately warm ginger mush. Once you suck off a few layers of cookie rot from a cup of hot coffee, it’s usually cool enough to drink without any annoying blowing. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Queen has her tea that way.

I was just getting ready for the second round of snap dunking when I noticed someone else’s hand in the cookie box. The hand belonged to Ben Affleck.

Now there are probably several hundred cookies in a hundred and twenty eight once box and I wasn’t likely to miss one, but dang it, Ben Affleck makes far more money than he deserves and it didn’t seem fair that he should help himself to my ginger snaps! I tried to ignore the outrage but after I’d cleared the second layer of sludge crumbs from my cup, didn’t he go for a second cookie!

This was too much! I stomped off to find security.

I was just forming in my mind a way to make cookie theft by a celebrity sound serious enough to warrant the attention of these highly paid civil servants who were, before 911, minimum wage deadbeats (like me), when I remembered the wanted posters.

I whispered to the woman with a mustache. “Isn’t he wanted?”

She checked the book. Sure enough, there she found Mummar Ben Affleck Ravioli of the Che Boyardi branch of the Humus terrorist organization. “To be considered armed and dangerous – known to regularly murder the English language.”

As I boarded the plane, I found my box of cookies still in my knapsack. Ben Affleck hadn’t been stealing my cookies at all, I had been stealing his (C’mon, you’ve all read at least one of the versions of the cookie story so don’t look surprised).

I thought about his screams as they hauled him off for a complete cavity search. I remembered hearing; “Didn’t you see Pearl Harbor? I’m a big star!” The mustached security woman replied, “not so big from where I stand mister but these gloves are cold.”

I considered his upcoming trip to Guantanomo Bay where he’ll be forced to read the Koran in Arabic. If he reads it as poorly as he did his lines in Chasing Amy, he’s in for a hard time with his fellow detainees.

All this trouble just because I made a mistake about whose box of cookies sat between us.

The plane would be taking off soon but I still had enough time to set the matter straight. Justice was in my hands.

I sat down and offered a gingersnap to the lady next to me.