Holiday Road

Chuck was kind enough to impart a few thoughts from his most recent beachside excursion:

From Chuck:

Diane (attempting to ask me about the upcoming weather): “How long rain harder?”

Chuck: “What??? You sound like one of the Hekawis from F Troop”.

From Jimmy:

O”Rourke (to Wild Eagle): “U don’t have to ACTUALLY attack the fort, just send your brave Hekawii warriors tonight and PRETEND to attack so we can make Cpt. Parmenter look like a hero.”

Wild Eagle: “No good O’Rourke.  Brave Hekawii warriors afraid of dark.”

Jimmy

(Back to Chuck) Diane and the girls are all killing me at Scrabble yet they are all trying to make me feel better.

Erin: “Your score isn’t too bad.”

Me: “Are you kidding me?? A monkey could eat the bag of tiles and s**t them out all over the board and he would STILL have a better score than me.”

Chuck

Jimmy: Hey Chuck! You just disrespected rule #3.4 of this website which clearly stipulates (ahem)… “Any writer on this stupid, futile, insanely crazy idea of a blog shall refrain from monkey poop jokes to the extent humanly possible unless it’s really funny”.

(OK, that WAS really funny but if we catch any grief for the Hekawii gag it’s yer ass.)

Jimmy

(Why Chuck and Teresa put up w/me is anyone’s guess but check out MameMagazine.com for more cool stuff if ya haven’t already.  Thanks for hittin’ and readin’)

 

The Fintastic Voyage

I noticed on the news this morning that many viewers of The Discovery Channel’s Shark Week kickoff episode from last night featuring Michael Phelps versus a Great White shark in a water-born race feel cheated, if not outright robbed.  The blowback resulted in noteworthy outrage from many viewers insomuch as Phelps wasn’t actually in the water with the aforementioned and extremely dangerous predator. He raced a far more docile computer animated shark that seemed to piss off viewers hoping for a little more violence and bloodshed (hey, I’m not naming names here). Let me say this about that…

PT Barnum once said that there’s a sucker born every minute and I’m now kicking myself for not laying some dough on the shark given the moronic levels of the general public. Was Vegas giving odds on the outcome of this race?  If so, they would’ve known that a Great White is capable of speeds upwards of 30 miles per hour while Phelps’ at best, will clock in somewhere around 4 mph. This normally would’ve resulted in odds of 20 million to one in favor of Jaws (woulda been 30 million to one except that maybe some shyster decided to plant a wounded seal on the race course in order to put the fix in.) But then again it’s possible some folks assumed that this would be a land race, which largely favors Phelps even if he agreed to have a bucket full of glue draped over his head while being spun around ten times with the assurance that he won’t be pranked by being lead into the water with the supposedly land-saddled shark. (Now THERE’S a contest!)

I’m with the viewers in one respect though.  Given a race between two or more humans it’s reasonable to expect that there will be some ground rules to ensure fairness and clean competition.  Why not the same for sharks? I’m figuring that the head of the Olympic committee sat down with head shark to lay out a few ground rules…

Any competitor who chomps his adjoining competitor in half shall be deemed to have committed an infraction and will thus be penalized 3 seconds in their overall score. (The shark contingent probably protested this one).

Surfacing to grab seemingly helpless seagulls or any other seabird is not only frowned upon but will be severely punished with a 4 second violation. (The humans were vehemently against this clause.)

Disconcerting, unruly, undignified or intimidating comments at the start line will result in a 2 second penalty. Certainly a sensible rule, hopefully averting such man/shark commentary as:

Human: Hey Flipper! Why don’t you take your tuna-breathed, seal-eating ass down current? You stink you sunofabitch!

Shark (in response): Hey man! Why all the negative vibes? I was hoping we could get together afterward and hang for a while.  All you have to do is swim out over the breakers about dusk and me and my buds will light up a party in your honor!

Having established these sound and unimpeachable rules, let the race begin!

(Spoiler alert!!!)

(The shark wins)

Jimmy

 

 

 

 

Let’s Hit it Again

I recently started mourning, while celebrating, the loss of great Americana traditions via the show “American Pickers” whereby the pickers find old motorcycles, jugs, art and other interesting memorabilia from people’s yards and barns, etc., displaying our past and how we got to the point we are today thru these objects.

This got me to thinkin’ about what treasures of the past I’d like to see make a comeback…

The Dunce Cap-Never heard of it? The Dunce Cap was used in elementary school to inspire lesser students to greater intellectual heights via ritual humiliation by seating the offending youngster in a chair at either the front or rear corner of the classroom while wearing a white, cone-shaped paper hat on his/her noggin that had the word “DUNCE” prominently displayed on the front of it.  (Scarring kids for life wasn’t a big issue back then.)

The Hotfoot- Apparently this was a big hoot during World War II.  Here’s how it works: If you notice that a friend, comrade, etc. has fallen asleep barefoot in your presence then the only thing to do (apparently) was to stick a lit match between two of his toes and wait patiently while the flame makes it way to skin contact.  The resulting hilarity involves the subject waking and suddenly hopping around like some kind of nitwit while screaming like a banshee. Unfortunately, the targeted individual didn’t always quite see things in line with the intended humorous effect often resulting in a fistfight.

Working on Your Own Car- Yeah, yeah, people still do this but not like before. Dinging your finger on the fan, spitting out black fluid from an ill-advised posture during an oil change or being semi-electrocuted resulting in temporary loss of consciousness while dealing with vehicle issues was a rite of passage back in the day.  It’s a man thing. Having black, oily, severe looking, emergency room-level cuts made you more of a man provided it didn’t kill ya.  Nowadays you’ll be needing such ultra expensive, sophisticated equipment and such intensive training that the average backyard mechanic just can’t compete.

Music- Don’t get me wrong here.  I LOVE seeing my favorite bands on YouTube while equally digging some of the new bands (big fan of the Pretty Reckless) and I don’t know what heaven’s like but I think I’d like to scan the radio, dealing with static only to hear “Hey WHAY listeners! Here’s newest number from Buddy Holly!” While I was used to scouting around my transistor radio, hearing static in my dialing search and getting frustrated from time to time, I still miss hitting a gem.  Nope, Buddy Holly died before I was even born but his legacy ultimately made me want the experience all the more (and again).

Jimmy

To the Moon Alice!

I recently stumbled along a piece pointing out famous astronomer Stephen Hawking’s advice to establish a colony on the moon before it’s too late for good ol’ planet earth. (See this link http://giftedviz.com/2017/06/21/stephen-hawking-is-convinced-humanity-needs-to-leave-earth/).  Permanently occupying the moon and expanding humanity into space while momentous, is also of course tricky and thus comes w/some important questions:

Question 1: Who and how many of us earthlings will establish and occupy the moon biosphere?

Answer: While there’s more than a few people I’d like to send on a moonshot, it’s important to get this right so I’d like to leave it up to the consensus of the people who’ll actually be there. The moon compound will obviously need various types of scientists, engineers and laborers to keep things running smoothly, but who else do we send?  Perfect human specimens of health and beauty would seem the obvious choice just based on most of the Hollywood characters I’ve seen in the sci-fi genre but is it wise considering that those films often wind up in disaster?

Question 2: How will our moon friends be attired?

Answer: Taking advice from Gwyneth Paltrow surprisingly ain’t gonna cut it insomuch as her sticker idea is a load of “BS” according to NASA (see link: http://bgr.com/2017/06/23/goop-stickers-nasa-gwyneth-paltrow/) so were gonna have to go with Plan B. I applaud her effort anyway ‘cuz writing about women’s cosmetics has been a stunningly consistent source of laughs for me. Seriously, I think I could make a living writing about it.  This quote had me laughing out loud:

“NASA, which typically doesn’t even bother to address ridiculous pseudoscience like what Goop is trying to peddle, was looped in thanks to Goop’s claims that the “Body Vibes” stickers utilize “NASA space suit material” made of “conductive carbon” to perform their magical healing feats. Gizmodo went right to NASA to ask for clarification on this mythical material and got a rather blunt response.

Apparently, NASA astronauts “do not have any conductive carbon material lining the spacesuits,” according to a rep from NASA’s spacewalk office. Pressed further, and presented with this counter-claim, one of the people behind the Body Vibes stickers claimed that he “found a way to tap into the human body’s bio-frequency,” while hedging his claims by saying that all the research that proves he’s telling the truth is confidential.

A former NASA human research scientist responded to Goop’s claims by simply calling it “a load of BS,” which is really all you need to know about how close to reality any of the company’s claims actually are. Upon learning of the Gizmodo story, Goop pulled any mention of NASA from its website.”

Ouch. While my motto when writing a new piece can be described as “there’s no idea too stupid” this series of assertions has admittedly proved me wrong.  Now whadda we do? Seeing as I can’t do any worse than Goop in the moon attire category, I’ve thought of a few more ideas…

How ’bout futuristic spacesuits like in “The Forbidden Planet” that seem to protect ya from everything but bullets, death rays, alien monsters and whatever else our moon people might need defending from that quickly proves corny and useless.

Robots: We can consider athletically challenged robots like “Robot” in the 60’s series “Lost in Space” but does this mean we gotta put up w/insufferable dimwits like Dr. Smith? I prefer an R2-D2 character that can not only relay messages from beautiful far-flung princesses and wise old Jedi knights but zap any hapless evil enemies at will.

(Which raises the question: Why do the Imperial Stormtroopers even bother wearing armor when they’re susceptible to getting wasted anyway?  This is an important thought.)

Sorry, I’m losing my train of thought here (to the extent I ever had one) and will once again try to take this buffoonery seriously.

Food and Lodging: Efficiency is everything here so I recommend barrel after barrel of green gloop labeled with the word “FOOD” on ’em.  “Anybody up for more green gloop!”  shall be our motto which I’m sure our moon units will never tire of and’s gonna be great for morale.

As far as lodging goes and given near zero gravity conditions, it’ll be important to strap everyone to their space cots at bedtime lest they fart in such a way as to deliver thrust and thus send themselves thru the top of the biosphere. I’ll bet the engineers have thought of this one already, but hey, can’t be too safe man.

Leadership: Clearly this issue can’t be taken lightly given my wish to send Kim Jong Un up there only to watch it all backfire as he decides to invade earth once he gets death ray capabilities.  So who else? It’ll hafta be someone who’s gonna be calm, nurturing and crazy enough to agree to this. That’s a rare combination but fret not readers for I do have some candidates in mind.

Given her credentials, Yoko Ono would be the obvious choice here, but she (like myself) ain’t the proverbial spring chicken anymore.  Cindy Lauper and Morgan Freeman were additional guesses and while I love their qualifications there’s really no one who can do it like Samuel L. Jackson. If anyone of our moon units gets outta line or scared he can lay lines on ’em like from Pulp Fiction:

Jules: Now Yolanda, we’re not gonna do anything stupid, are we?

Yolanda: You don’t hurt him.

Jules: Nobody’s gonna hurt anybody. We’re gonna be like three little Fonzies here. And what’s Fonzie like? Come on Yolanda what’s Fonzie like?

Yolanda: Cool?

Jules: What?

Yolanda: He’s cool.

Jules: Correctamundo.

Having wrapped that up, there’s only one last issue left (actually, there’s a lot more but my fingers are getting pooped.)

Communications: Unless there’s an improvement in cell phone usage from our moon people, my daughter ain’t goin’ seeing as she won’t be able to use her mobile phone for less than sixteen hours a day.  As tragic as it apparently is, (to her anyway) there is nonetheless, a simple solution…

Let’s setup a Space Shuttle-type program whereby we shoot cute, fuzzy creatures such as puppies, kittens, wombats, etc. to our moon habitat (yes, I’m deliberately saying this to get responses) in space modules (hey, maybe they’ll get the hang of it after a while and guide the modules themselves) with notes tied to their collars. Upon their moon arrival, our spacefolk can review loveable footage of their 275,000 mile journey which they hopefully survived.

As always, I’m happy to help with these complicated questions and will (unless shouted down) will supply a part II.

Jimmy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lowdown on Highlighters

Had the following conversation with my 11 year-old daughter the other day as we were getting ready to head to the beach.
Erin “Daddy, do I need sun block in between my fingers?”
Me  “No, sweetie. We’re not going TO the sun.”

A Pre Dinner Observation Made To My Wife:

Explaining to Diane why I’m less than thrilled with my new yellow Cape May t shirt.
“I have two problems with it. One, I can’t squeeze my giant head through the head hole. And two, when I have it on, I look like a big fat highlighter.”

Chuck

Note from Jimmy:  “Diane” is Chuck’s wife and yes, if ya painted his head yellow he would seem to be an oversized highlighter.  Even tho I’ve told him to send stuff in (“SIZE 14 TIMES NEW ROMAN DAMMIT!)” ,  he defiantly insists on torturing me in the editing process.  HO, HO, not this time mi amigo!

In reality, I’m always glad to post his thoughts insomuch as he makes feel normal by comparison.

Jimmy

On a Hoof and a Prayer

My daughter recently disavowed meat in all it’s glorious forms and went full-on vegan.  I didn’t know it at the time but she also banned herself from any animal by-products such as eggs, milk, cheese, caviar and honey. As she explained to me the reasons why (“it’s unethical, Dad”) I countered with the argument that ya don’t have to kill the cow/goat/fish/bee (the bee’s the one that really sent me over the edge) to get the God-given fruits within.

Well, I never considered myself to be unethical while chomping on my Big Mac but I felt it my duty as Dad to try to see her point of view.  Yet I have some questions:

What is a “vegan”? I always thought they were people who dressed as a banana on city subways passing out pamphlets.

Is this a dietary/health choice or a full-on movement born as a way to stick it to fat, overindulgent slobs?

What about the ground-born sustinence?  While we all know the pig might let out an anguished oink, the cow a despairing moo and the moose emit an, (er, whatever mooses do when they’re slaughtered.  Stunning fact.  People really do eat moose meat.)  How is the average fruit or vegetable considered to be less alive?

Consider the humble watermelon and it’s more formidable cousin, the pumpkin.  I’ve heard it said that more people are killed/maimed each year by falling coconuts than sharks. (Does this make the coconut the hit-man of the fruit and vegetable world?) The watermelon doesn’t object too much while I hack it apart while the pumpkin has a funny way of staring back at me as I carve a face into it heading into Halloween.

Coconuts aside, the veggie world has a way of fighting back.  Nettles, poison ivy (“try eating ME motherf@#ker!”), cactus, the elusive yet wily mushroom where either yer in for a treat or in for a gastrointestinal disaster of biblical proportions and most importantly, poison berries. This one cracks me up insomuch as somebody had to be the first to try it.  (“Thog no wanna try.  Thog scared. Me know! Have Gloog try! Him idiot!”)

I’m not trying to fight back against veganism as I’m just trying to understand it. It’d be cool if someone approached me as I “seek help” for my carnivorous ways while serving me a heapin’ helpin’ of kelp.  After I’m done saying “what the f#*k is the matter with you?,” I promise I’ll try to calm down but I eatin’ that s@#t.

Gregg Allman died over the over the weekend. Quick story. While I was drivin’ my semi-trailer (cool yet scary job) I’d tune in to the weather conditions and then put in my Allman Brothers tape as I drove on down the road. Lemmee see if I can attach a good one of their videos to this post.

Jimmy

My Bucket List

While others may wanna go skydiving, travel the world, join Greenpeace, meet a famous celebrity and signup for sports fantasy camps before they keel over, I have different ideas of what a bucket list oughtta look like. This is largely based on stories from friends, my own experiences that were unfulfilled and stuff I think woulda been cool if they happened but never panned out.

For instance, I have a friend who’s car was parked in his driveway but suddenly could accommodate only two gears; Park and Reverse.  While the rest of us mortals would throw up our hands and call a tow truck he decided to take the initiative and drive a mile and a half in reverse gear to get his vehicle over to the local transmission shop.  This, my friends is no mean feat insomuch as he had to cross a major intersection and take a right (left for him) on to another major road and eventually pull in backwards to the Aamco parking lot.  (Let’s say you were sitting on a red light, waiting for the light to change.  Cars pass in front of you normally and there’s suddenly one that’s going backwards. Wouldn’t you be impressed?)

Secondly, I have another friend who was doing work on a house only to step on a failing section of floor, plunge through two equally iffy stories slamming into and penetrating each successive level while finally landing in the basement where he was bitten by the family dog.  Even the 3 Stooges and Bugs Bunny didn’t think of this one.

Thus is the premise of a doable bucket list that I think might be attainable or at least worth the minimal effort, despite the consequences:

Invent a new type of car horn that really captures my emotions at the time instead of a simple HONK. Let’s say for example that the driver in front of ya (to be mentioned henceforth as “Driver A”) isn’t paying attention at a red light turning green and needs a little prodding (from me, henceforth know as “Driver Q” (expecting me to call myself Driver B, weren’t ya?). In order to get things going you hit yer horn and instead of the old-fashioned honk the aforementioned Driver A motorist hears the chorus of the Stones “Get Off My Cloud”.  (“HEY, HEY, (you,you) GET OFFA MY CLOUD!) . This inoffensive nudge obviously applies only as a simple reminder.

Yet there are harsher honks that need to be considered.

Let’s say “Driver A” ain’t exactly cooperating and requires further incentive to get his/her ass in gear so to speak and could spark a road rage incident. Instead, why doesn’t “Driver Q” simply hit the secondary horn option that explains to “Driver A” that their on “The Highway to Hell” if they don’t friggin’ move it already.

Driver A still not moving? Horn option C will come equipped w/Alice Cooper’s “I Love the Dead”. What it lacks in subtlety more than makes up for in terms of getting things moving along.

Get rich- yeah, yeah I know this is on a buncha people’s bucket lists but I have a specific reason for getting this done.  I always wanted a butler/lackey to order around. For instance:

Me (wearing an ascot and smoking jacket while relaxing in my comfy chair): “I say Piffington, you provided me with subpar crumpets yet again, you groveling insect. Have you no concept of the fact they need a certain poofiness?”

Piffington: “I am most unworthy, Your Awesomeness. I will procure you such poofy crumpets and as soon as I can arrange for a suitable replacement, I’ll have myself executed. ”

Next, I’d like to establish a national “Brutally Honest Day”, where instead of the counter person at your local fast food joint asking “May I help you?” they say “Let’s get this over with.  I’m making minimum wage, wearing a uniform that fat people wearing Speedos on a Mediterranean beach would consider undignified and you’re lucky I have no snot left in my nose to put on your burger so whaddya want?”

Additionally, I’d like to go my doctor without him insinuating that I’m a borderline moron. While I understand that I’m apparently supposed to sequester myself from stress, eat healthy, exercise (all great advice) and take my meds, I start to wonder what the greater point is.  Does the person who lives the longest “win”?  People who tell me that “you’re gonna die” once they find out I smoke now get the response “Yep, I will die, but I’ve got some bad news for ya, so are you.”

What I really want is for my kids/family to live happy lives. That’s it.

Jimmy

 

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