Showing posts with label Pop Tarts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pop Tarts. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Things to Do When You’re Really Bored

Now that the weather is finally getting warmer and you’re doing far less shivering and stamping your feet to avoid frostbite,
you may find yourself looking for ways to fill the time. As a public service, here are some ideas.
1) Go through the grocery shelves and pick up a dry roasted food you’ve never tried before. Dry roasted chic peas weren’t too bad. Dry roasted seaweed? I’ll let you try that one yourself.
2) Try to deliberately drop your keys. Considering how often keys drop out of my hands you’d think this would be easier than it is. Is this evidence of key sentience?
3) Stand on a busy street corner and refuse to drink anything before you find someone who actually wants to have a star named after them from that stupid company that advertises on the radio.
3a) Wait, that’s not a thing to do when you’re really bored; that’s something to do when you want to die of thirst.
4) Read aloud an instruction manual from an appliance made in China, and note all the unintentional humor.
4a) Fair is fair. Take a class in Chinese and watch the Chinese speakers hide their amusement at your pronunciation.
5) Listen to an hour of Sean Hannity on the radio and count the number of times he miss-uses the word, literally. My number was 3 which should be pro-rated to 9 as I had to shut it off after 20 minutes. It’s figuratively mind-blowing that they let that guy broadcast.
6) Take a friend to a courtroom during a trial and sit near the jury box. Periodically hold up a sign that says, acquit, and have your friend periodically hold up a sign that says, convict. See who gets thrown out of the courtroom first.
7) Take a walk in the park and watch the squirrels. When you see a squirrel on the ground, cross his path so that you are between him and the tree he just left. I’ve only done this with upstate New York squirrels, so I don’t know if this happens everywhere, but the rodents of Albany freak.
8) Sew an orange vest and put it on a stuffed animal. Then carry it around and tell people it’s your service animal.
8a) Take the vest off the stuffed animal and put it on yourself. Then go to Home Depot. Do the same thing with a black and white stripped shirt at Foot Locker.
9) Stand outside a government building with a sign that says, “Yeah!” If someone asks you what you’re protesting, say, “You’ve got a point.” Then take out a magic marker and change your sign to “Heck Yeah!”
10) Stare a cat in the eye until he or she looks away. It makes you feel like you’ve established dominance, but the cat still won’t come when you call it.
It may also poop on your pillow.
11) Dance all by yourself in front of a dog. Dance until he turns his head in that universal canine gesture that means, “Humans are inscrutably odd.”
12) Take a plain t-shirt and two pieces of paper. Write, “something funny” on one sheet and tape it to the front of your shirt. Write, “something meaningful” on the other paper and tape it to the back of the shirt. Then go out on the street and try to give the shirt away to a stranger.

Or, if you want to be like me, you could just veg out on the couch and eat Pop Tarts.




Beloved George Carlin was many things, bur rarely boring.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Cats Have Things To Say

   The most frequent "funny" picture subject I get from my FB friends is a cat.  And if you are one of my FB friends, then yes, your cat, cats, feline street gang is the cutest, coolest, smartest, funniest, most zen-like, and superheroish of all cats anywhere.
   (Cat keepers need reassurance like that sometimes.)
   The result of this glut of cat pictures is that we now have a glut of cat memes, where some clever FBer or blogger (don't you hate those guys?) puts words in the cat's... well they print them in the same picture with the cat, giving the impression that the cat has this to say.
   For instance:
   Hmmmm.  They're probably right about that one.
   Also possible.
   This one is actually likely.
   Maybe
   I'm afraid that one might be true.
   Really?  I've never met a cat that wanted to accomplish more than acquiring the best nap spot in the house.  Some of the rest of these are even more...  Well, you decide.
  Less than 5% of cats (and 4% of humans) ever listen to Ravi Shankar.
   Some cats are suckers for Cadbury eggs.
   Cats don't like practical jokes, but they're even less fond of meetings.
   All cat armor must be warm and fluffy.
   Less than 2% of accidental shootings are done by cats.  And finally...
   Well, okay.  I'll buy this one.

   And now, presenting the opposing point of view.



   The easiest thing to find on Youtube - a cat video.

Monday, January 12, 2015

College Football Analysis for the Uninformed Part Two – Fowl Nuts



So, lucky me…
Eleven days ago I guessed, based on a combination of zoology, botany, oceanography, archeology and reversed logic that the Oregon Ducks and Ohio State Buckeyes would advance to the College Football (really mean it division) Championship Game.
In a land full of people so bored that they can’t wait to bet money on groups of strangely clad 18 – 22 year olds beating each other senseless over an inflated leather bladder, this seems to be a big deal. It puts me right up there with Jimmy (the racist) Greek, and Eli, the handicapping ape. It’s quite an honor.

So, Headley, who will win tonight’s game?
I could use the same system I used last time – Ducks eat nuts; nuts do nothing to ducks, 
therefore reverse logic dictates the Buckeyes will win. But if that system worked before, reverse logic dictates it will never work again.
Being athletically ignorant in mind and body, I’ll have to divine the outcome through something I know – past blog posts. Searching my data, I can’t find anything I’ve written about nuts (at least the kind that grow on trees.) I have written something about a duck, back in November of 2013. Here’s the link, or if you prefer – here it is in very tiny print.
Sandy Sue laid an egg every day! Very unusual for a duck. Even more
unusual was the etching and coloring on each egg. Sandy was the daily
mother of great masterpieces.
Tuesday it might be a Van Gogh self portrait, Thursday the unicorn in
captivity, Sunday, the Pieta (a miracle!) each day a different perfect
representation of a fine work of art.
Like most artists, Sandy was frequently misunderstood. Her Warhol
was thought by one park employee to be debris left from someone’s lunch.
Her Newman was mistaken by many to be a simple Easter egg. Sandy would
show no offence, no wounded pride, no artist's pique. She sat in her
little nest by her somewhat scummy duck pond content to create art for
the purest of motives: motherhood.
As time passed, she gained a celebrity among humans rivaled by only
the most accomplished ducks. The "Sandy Sue appreciation society (the
honorable Donald M Fowler, president)" numbered more people than the
entire province of Prince Edward Island. It was inevitable that her
many admirers, seeking a way of showing appreciation for her art, began
to consider her deplorable living conditions.
A magnificent new nest was constructed from the finest silk, with gold
filigree surrounded by tasteful aquatic bric-a-brac. The nest was
placed beside a radiant pool of fresh Evian water. Croutons from the
finest French restaurants were served (a la carte) by children of
impeccable breeding and education. Strains from Handel's water music
caressed her (imperceptible) duck ears.
For three days, Sandy nibbled contentedly and produced an
astoundingly detailed school of Athens as well as two Gauguin (rather
risqué with so many children present). The next day she flew away.
A comprehensive search was initiated by D M Fowler himself. Sandy
Sue was found, chewing on a blade of grass by her tiny nest.
Risking nasty stains on the knees of his seersucker trousers, the honorable
Mr. Fowler approached Sandy.
"We've done all we could imagine to make you comfortable and happy
Sandy Sue. Why is it that you've left such a lovely environment for
this unsanitary little pond in such a tawdry city park."
0val rims of green lined deep pools of thoughtful brown in Sandy's
eyes as she studied her benefactor.
"Quack," she replied.



Well – that clears everything up nicely. Martin Motarola (or whoever that Duck guy they gave the squatting statue to is,) will have a great first chucker, scoring a field goal, a triple, and a hat trick. Just before Tea Interval, the nuts will steal the bacon from the scrum, vault the uneven bars, and let service the golden snitch off the wicket to lead by a free throw.
Ohio State 21 - Oregon 20 Halftime
Once around the clubhouse turn the ducks will triple salchow the coxswain and pull out all the lawn jarts from the head pin as you can plainly see from the poem/story above.
Final Score: Oregon Ducks 47 - Ohio State Buckeyes 28 (assuming the East German judge doesn't penalize them for wardrobe malfunction.)

Gee, I hope I’m wrong – I’m already getting too much scrutiny from Vegas over that Pop Tart crumbs in the roulette wheel incident.
Yeah, it happened a while ago


But if the ghost of Michael has anything to do with it, the Buckeye band might swing the contest.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Bring In Your Dead


I have an affliction.
I’ve had it before, and god help me, I’ll probably have it again. I shouldn’t complain; most people have to deal with the same thing – I have a job.
Jobs have only one redeeming benefit – money. With money, I can buy goods and services, including Pop Tarts,
 and gas for the Yugo.
Unfortunately, jobs have many detriments including 1) wasted time 2) raised expectations from creditors 3) increased difficulty in free-loading on others and 4) E.J.I. (enforced jerk interaction.)
Sick days bring a respite. Unfortunately my current boss, Whipcracker Toliver, has memorized the WebbMD website, and it’s getting harder to find an illness to pass muster with him.
This morning I tried a different tack. I called work.
Whipcracker: Tote that Bail Bondage Services. This is Whip Toliver. How may our employees serve you?
Headley: Mr. Toliver, I have some sad news.
Whipcracker: What is it now, Headley?
Headley: Yes sir, I’m calling about Headley Hauser. He’s dead.
Whipcracker: Am I not talking to Headley right now?
Headley: No sir, this is Doctor Mumblefuss. I just happen to sound a lot like him.
Whipcracker: I see, Doctor Mumblefuss. This of course is a terrible tragedy. I’m sure Headley’s coworkers will be deeply saddened. I wonder if he knew before he passed on, that if I report his death to social services, he’ll no longer be eligible for unemployment or food stamps.
Headley: (pause) Maybe I should try the shock thingies.

Whipcradker: Yes, Doctor, do try the shock thingies, and if you manage to resurrect Headley, remind him that it’s his turn to bring in coffee this morning.

I’m not sure, but I think he was on to me. Next time, I gotta find someone else to play Doctor Mumblefuss.
Cral and I used to do a song about work in our spectacularly ignored act: Headley and the Rug (and Cral) Hit the Road. I apologize that there’s no tune for you, but there really wasn’t much of one even when Cral and I did it. All the Xs are for hand claps.

Love my Job
words and kinda music by Headley Hauser

I need to go away XX I need to go away XX xxxx
I need to go away XX I need to go away XX xxxx
This place makes me shake xxxxxxx
This place makes my belly ache xx
This place gives me things I don’t need xx
I need x I need x I need

I need to go away XX I need to go away XX xxxx
I need to go away XX I need to go away XX xxxx
This place makes me work xxxxxxx
This place makes me deal with a jerk xx
This place gives me things I don’t need xx
I need x I need x I need

(go up a step)
I need to go away XX I need to go away XX xxxx
I need to go away XX I need to go away XX xxxx
This place gives me grief xxxxxxx
This place is just beyond belief xx
Tell my boss that I NEED TO GO!
I need x I need x
I need to leave

I’d tell you it was much better live – but there was a reason we were spectacularly ignored. Here’s a vid of someone who’s actually pretty funny.


Saturday, March 2, 2013

Federally-Funded School for Nudist Zombies


My beloved abusive masters at Go Figure Reads dot com (gofigurereads.com) tell me that marketing is all about using key words and phrases that catch search engine interest. They suggested that I use a provocative title like FREE NUDE MONEY for my posts in order to gain readership. I told them I was above such things, and phrases like BEASTS GO WILD VIDEO, or SUPREME COURT JUSTICE EATS BABY, would not find its way onto my blog.

Integrity is its own reward…

Though I’d rather have money.

Speaking of money – I got a check from Time Warner Cable on Thursday. It was my refund for service not used when I shut down my account almost three months ago. At first they conveniently forgot that my account was closed and billed me for December and January – even got a little snooty about how delinquent I was. Finally, I sent them a certified letter, and six weeks later, they send me this check.

The whole thing felt familiar when I thought about it. It turns out that Time Warner has done this to me twice in the past. Billing a single ex-customer three times after the account was closed has to be a co-incidence. If a company like Time Warner made it a PRACTICE to bill ex-customers for service they weren’t providing, they might make millions of dollars from unwary bill-payers. They would never want to take money that wasn’t theirs by right, would they?

And wouldn’t that constitute mail-fraud?

It must be my imagination.

With the money theme in mind, I looked through my archives for something from that blissful time when I had money – when I was self-sufficient, secure, could afford cable TV, and mostly dry when it rained.

I was a smug SOB, but I can live with smug if it comes with a supply of unexpired Pop-Tarts in the cupboard.





Tell Me Again




This morning I woke to soothing music. I had my choice of many selections. I had control of the volume and the time it began.

I rose from a bed, clean of lice and vermin, covered with fine-spun cloths of many colors. A bed as soft as anything King Solomon might have owned

I stepped upon thick carpet, clean and new and pleasing to my toes

The air had a slight chill to it. I turned a knob on the wall, not doubting a moment that the room would soon be perfectly comfortable.

I walked to the next room where warm water cascaded over my body. I voided my wastes in a chair that sent them rushing cheerily out of sight and smell. I groomed myself with a variety of implements specifically designed for the care of hair, teeth, skin and nails, using cleansers formulated for pleasant smell, feel and taste. I dried my body with a great expanse of softened cotton.

I returned to my sleeping room and pulled from a voluminous closet, items from a large selection of shirts, pants, undergarments and shoes.

I walked to yet another room to prepare my morning meal. In this room was a large appliance that will both cool and freeze food. Next to it, an appliance that bakes, broils, fries or boils up to five foods at once at a variety of temperatures. Nearby sat a device designed to toast pre-sliced bread. Below that was a box to cook or thaw any food in a matter of minutes. A number of other devices that I rarely use cluttered the clean spacious counter.

I ate more than my body required.

I warned myself to stop.

Such abundance leads to obesity.

I left for work in a heated vehicle, enclosed from the elements, with a spring-cushioned seat. Though there were four seats, I traveled alone at a speed faster than any horse owned by Alexander the Great or locomotive used by John D. Rockefeller.

Though it was already two hours past dawn, I was on-time for work. I stopped work an hour before sunset. I didn’t sweat in all my labors. Most of the time, I sat in a soft chair adjusting both height and angle for comfort.

On the way home, I stopped at a beautiful marble building. In the building were rooms full of books on every subject. In one room were hundreds of musical and theatrical performances by the world’s finest performers stored in small packages. I selected a book, a package of music and 2 packages of theatre. I showed the attendant a card and took these items with me without cost.

They even said thank you.

I stopped again at a large market.

Fresh fruits and vegetables lined one wall. Most were out of season or not even grown in my region. They had been brought in from hundreds or even thousands of miles away.

There were milk products, pasteurized and tightly sealed in plastic or waxed cardboard. There were meats carefully wrapped in sanitized containers. There were prepared meals, soups, stews, salads, seasoned vegetables, cheeses, cakes and sweet drinks of many varieties. There were even items designed so that a person could eat or drink larger quantities without becoming obese.

I gathered what appealed to me. Though some items were expensive, most of the items were within my means.

Once home, I put a theatrical performance in a device located in a room I had not yet used that day. I sat in a chair that reclines, and viewed the performance while popcorn popped in an expanding enclosure in the appliance room.

When the popcorn was prepared, I commanded the performers to pause by pushing a button beside me.

Returning with my popcorn and fizzy non-fattening sweet drink, I sat, placing an electrically heated blanket across my legs and pushed two buttons beside me. The performers resumed but at a reduced volume. They showed not the least sigh of resentment.

Could Queen Elizabeth the first have commanded such attendance from Shakespeare’s players?

I yawned in my satisfaction and indolence.



Twenty percent of the world’s population would love to pick through my dumpster.

Census figures show that my income falls in the bottom twenty percent of American households.



Even the mighty hear only one song at a time.



Tell me again how poor we are.





Oh, I never did get to talking about that Nudist Zombie School. I meant to but it seems this post has closed. I blame Time Warner.