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.

Kid Stuff

If you’re a parent in search of kid’s music that you can enjoy, may I suggest, Lunch Money? For some reason, they have yet to do a polished video of their hit song, A Cookie as Big as My Head, though I did find a pirate recording on You Tube.

I could dance to that. Check their site  for a more polished video of their song, Spicy Kid.

I don’t know why I love kid’s music and stories – at least good kid’s music and stories. Maybe it’s true that you never lose your first love.

To those who are saying it’s because I’m childish – I’m not listening. What’s more: I’m rubber, you’re glue; insults bounce off me and stick on you!

As far as stories are concerned, my fist love was Puffy (the Puppy) by Georgianna  (1952.) It was a Tell-a-Tales book, which was probably a rival to Golden Books. Back then, rivalry was allowed, before a certain mouse-themed empire vacuumed up our cultural heritage. Disney probably owns the rights to Puffy now as they have (as official corporate sponsors of the NSA) high-hoseyed the rights to the works of every dead author since the Epic of Gilgamesh.

I understand that the Code of Hammurabi has been renamed in recent social studies books to the It’s a Small World Code of Hammurabi. As we speak the code is being put to endlessly repetitive music to be the background sound to the Hanging Gardens exhibit in Disney’s new World Domination Theme Park. The world is getting uncomfortably small, after all.

I see this kind of action by a company founded by the creator of Bambi, Dumbo, and Snow White, and I wonder: WWWD (What Would Walt Do?)

What the heck! I haven’t been sued in a while. Here is Puffy.

Puffy

by Georgiana

Puffy the Puppy is fat and well fed;

Puffy the Puppy is asleep on his bed.

His eyes are shut tight, his long ears are dragging;

Even his fat little tail has stopped wagging.

Puffy belongs to a small boy named Tommy.

And Tommy belongs to his daddy and mommy.

Puffy’s awake now and ready for fun;

He looks out the window and barks at the sun.

He eats all his breakfast, then runs out to play;

He chases a kitten – and rolls in the hay.

He plays ball with Tommy, then goes for a ride

In Tommy’s red cart with balloons on each side.

Puffy barks to go fishing with Tommy and Dad,

And when they don’t take him he’s dreadfully sad.

Buy look, Puffy, see, there’s a squirrel to chase

Up the tree to her hiding place.

No Puffy’s hungry, he sits up and begs

On his fat little bottom and two hind legs

Puffy the Puppy is fat and well fed:

Puffy is ready to curl up in bed.

He stretches and yawns, then shuts his eyes tight

And sleeps cozy and warm till the sun’s shining bright.

I have no idea if it’s good poetry or not – it’s too close to me, but as I love it. I would like to see it preserved – even if it is by that DIC (Disney Imperial Corporation.)

Or even better – if Puffy has managed to slip through the big D’s fingers, maybe Lunch Money could put it to music.

I could dance to that.