Category Archives: Humor

Life Is Too Complicated

In order to ignore the brouhaha–or is it a kerfuffle–that dominates the news, I will focus my blogs on the curves that life throws at us normal people. Let’s start with parking.

When I started to drive, except for the shopping centers (now called strip malls–or that now outdated?) parking was on the street. In order to park, you had to parallel park. Parallel, as in parallel to the curb.

Parallel parking was part of the drivers license AND the part that everyone feared. It isn’t really all that hard, and on very rare occasions I still get to use my parallel parking skills.

However, things got more complicated. Besides parking spots near the door reserved for the handicapped (logical) and pregnant mothers (also quite logical), there are now reserved spots for customers who are there to pick up an order, employee of the year/month/week/day/hour, etc. In some cases, standard parking is in the next county.

I suspect, but can’t prove that the lines defining parking spots have been moved closer. In any case, many cars–especially SUVs and pickup trucks– occupy every last inch within the lines. This is fine, until you park next to one and try to open your door. I guess that’s why so many vehicles have sunroofs.

Then there’s the final straw–large vehicles with rearview mirrors that significantly extend from the truck body. On a rainy or snowy day, it is possible–although unlikely–to find a good parking spot. This does not necessarily mean that the walk to the door is short. Instead, it is often necessary to walk a circuitous path in order to find a space between cars with enough room to walk without the risk of decapitation by the interlocking mirrors.

Hide and Seek

Courtesy, the Punchbowl.net

Like most others, as I get older, I regularly suffer from CRS*. I’m not yet to the point where I can hide my own Easter Eggs, but I do find that I’ll walk into a room and wonder, “Why did I come here?”

I’ve decided that instead of complaining, I’ll make a game of it. For example, when I open the refrigerator door with the intent of getting a particular item, often I forget. I scan the shelves, hoping to remind myself what it was that I wanted.

It’s kind of like playing the childhood game of “I Spy,” only I get to play both the person who is looking for the item and the one who selected it.

It’s actually not that much fun, but sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

 

*Can’t Remember Shit Stuff”

The Quirky Brain

Courtesy US Army

The human brain is a wonderful creation, able to provide understanding, to critically evaluate ideas in order to separate fact from fiction, and even convey emotions. It does, however, have its flaws.

Our brains try to make order out of  chaos, but in the process often make chaos into–well–other chaos. A few examples:

  • People complain about how a lost item is always in the last place they look. Naturally this is true; when one finds what they were looking for, they stop looking.
  • When an overwhelming tragedy occurs, we try to find a reason. If we cannot find one, we make one up. It makes no sense that President John F. Kennedy was killed by one wacko acting alone. There MUST be a better reason–a conspiracy that is being covered up. This is a more satisfying answer, even if not necessarily true.
  • We prefer to hear people propose simple answers to every problem, even incredibly complex ones. If the solution begins with, “All you have to do is just . . . .” it must be a good solution.

 

Politics As Usual

I actually do try not to pick sides as the brouhaha in Washington, DC continues.

Remember that very old riddle?

Q: How can you tell when politicians are lying?
A: Their lips are moving.

I’m old enough to have watched (and, believe it or not, still remember) the Watergate hearings. That was when Earl Landgrebe (R, Indiana) said: “Don’t confuse me with the facts. I’ve got a closed mind. I will not vote for impeachment. I’m going to stick with my president even if he and I have to be taken out of this building and shot.”

Try to imagine the members of Congress as scientists debating a mathematical theorem.

“2 + 2 = 5, and don’t try to convince me otherwise!”

“No, it’s 6 and your mother wears combat boots!”*

Never mind, it takes more imagination than I can muster.

 

* Actually, not at all unusual these days–Ladies, thank you for your service.

Nature’s Majesty Is Better at a Distance

Wild animals are majestic. They are beautiful.

I lived in Wyoming, and I admit, the antelope were awesome—until you saw them up close. Like humans, they were—to say the least—imperfect. Their fur tended to hang in clumps and they smelled, well, nasty. There was a golf course at F. E. Warren Air Force Base and the antelope enjoyed standing in the middle of the course because: a) they knew they could not be molested, and; b) they loved to show humans who was in charge.

Okay, let’s make it more inclusive. Seagulls look almost like something a poet would have described at a distance. Have you seen them up close? They are sea-going pigeons. Attractive? Not so much.

Then, there are the magnificent, imperious Canadian Geese

Or, as I often refer to them, rats with feathers.

Although they are picturesque, they leave a trail of green fecal matter anywhere within 2 ¾ miles of their presence. They attack anyone who comes near them, block traffic while the flock slowly strolls across a street. With the global warming that supposedly isn’t happening, they no longer migrate as far as they once did. In some cases, such as here in Virginia, they’ve become a year-round fixture.

I recently saw a vehicle that belonged to a “Canadian Goose management company.” A quick search on the internet brought up quite a few companies that advertise that they will remove the geese from parks, parking lots, private property, etc.

It’s about time.

Next, we need protection from those incorrigible chipmunks!

Thoughts on DC

I recently spent some time in our nation’s capital. I hate the traffic, so I usually rely on the Metro, taxis, or Uber. This time I decided to walk to various places and take in the sights and think of weird things:

Washington, DC tries to discourage driving, so many people use scooters, bicycles, and skateboards to get around. Naturally, there are also joggers. However, in the residential areas there are a lot of brick sidewalks, which tend to be uneven. Was this by accident, a cruel joke, or a business move by orthopedic surgeons?

Television coverage of the district includes lots of people yelling and screaming at one another. However, when walking, people rarely greet anyone they don’t know. On the other hand, when driving, they LOVE using their car horns. I guess it reminds them of yelling and screaming.

There are quaint row houses, with many of them being quite old. We stayed in one (AirBnB) during a family trip, and they are quite nice albeit expensive. It was amazing how many were being gutted and the whole interior rebuilt–not just remodeled. I guess if you can afford to buy one, you can afford to hollow out the inside and completely rebuild

As nice as those homes are, I noticed that many have bars on the doors and windows. The bars could be for security, or maybe the bars are to help the politicians who live in them feel right at home

Bait and Switch

Once upon a time, the Internet was lauded as a forum for intelligent discussion, but like most things, it soon became primarily focused on enriching a few people. I have nothing against commerce, but it seems that many websites will stoop at nothing to get you to click on one of their links. To whit:

The Fed dropped mortgage rates? No. They adjust the prime rate, which may affect mortgage rates. but they don’t directly control mortgage rates.

 

Let’s stop in mid -sentence to see if viewers will click. After all, Trump and the Washington Post are usually totally simpatic0.

 

It seems that there’s shock and surprise about where every movie / television / music performer lives–or that they don’t look like they did 30 years ago. Oh, and  what’s Lawyers Blvd got to do with Meg Ryan?

 

Do you think that maybe, possibly there might have been just a tiny bit of Photoshopping involved? Not much, just a smidge?

Then there’s this poor girl. When I travel, I see her being arrested in every city I visit. She must be innocent, or they wouldn’t let her out to be arrested again and again.

So much for intelligent exchange of ideas.

Veterans Day

Veterans Day (no apostrophe) honors all those who served in the US Military, past and present.

Sometimes people–including some in uniform–make a differentiation between active duty military and reserve members. I am of two minds on this. First, most of the military officers I served with in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Kuwait were reserve or national guard. It wasn’t until we began sending individual augmentees that the active duty numbers swelled.

Vice Admiral John Cotton asked if the reserve members who were killed were any less dead than active members. Obviously not.

The other view does have some merit, but not in the way that you might expect. Back in the 1980’s, so the story goes, the status of reservists rose with the Royal Australian Navy. Like most members of the Commonwealth, their Navy uniform has a curl above the stripes indicating an officer’s rank. For years, reserve officers in the Royal Australian Navy had an “R” inside the curl, but when it was proposed that the uniform should be the same for active and reserve. Naturally, there was a lot of discussion.

When asked if the R should be removed for reservists, one reserve officer answered that the R should be retained. This met with approval by the active duty officers, until the officer continued.

“I certainly don’t want people thinking that this is the only way I can earn a living.”

Politically Expedient

If the Back to School Season starts in June, Halloween Season in August, and Christmas concurrent with Labor Day it only makes sense that election season would begin earlier as well. Politics is confusing—it’s difficult to truly understand the issues and vote accordingly. You need to know about a variety of issues and have at least a nodding familiarity with the constitution.

I looked around to see if there is a more efficient approach to politics, and believe it or not, I found it!

The trick is to limit your political preferences to no more than three issues; ideally you choose only a single issue. At election time you vote for the candidates that share your view on your topic.

Some people choose issues like guns, abortion, or immigration. It doesn’t matter if you’re pro or con, if a candidate aligns with your view, put an X in the box or pull the appropriate lever. It doesn’t matter if the candidate is Genghis Khan, Adolph Hitler, or Mother Theresa, just so long as they agree with your pet issue.

My pet issue? Pickles. I’d tell you my views on pickles, but I think the internet already knows too much about me.

Ask Your Doctor

If I were writing drug ads, they’d sound something like this:

Abeforth cures recalcitrant plebny!

[Speed up tape to three times normal speed] Side effects may include the sudden loss of a limb, blindness, an unnatural attraction of lightning bolts, or immediate death with no prior symptoms. If you experience any of these side effects, stop taking Abeforth and call your undertaker immediately.

Don’t take Abeforth if you are allergic to Abeforth, have had more than five organ transplants. Don’t take Abeforth if you are taking Primordeum, Pleisthene dioxide, Triglyceride phosphate, Gadolineum Sulfide, or if you can pronounce any of these drug names.

Ask your doctor if Abeforth is right for you.

Confession

I hesitated to bring this up. I’m sure there are multiple government agencies, heavily armed with former special operations personnel, ready to respond with dedication and a show of force.

But I can’t keep it a secret forever.

I don’t like pumpkin spice.

I don’t like pumpkin spice coffee–hot or cold, pumpkin spice candy, pumpkin spice cookies, pumpkin spice pork, or pumpkin spice French fries.

I don’t like pumpkin spice.

Pumpkin pie used to be my favorite, but with such a public orgy of pumpkin spice dominating stores, coffee shops, and television commercials, the thought of any pumpkin flavored product makes me shudder.

And to add insult to injury, I bet most of those do not contain any real pumpkin–just artificial flavors and coloring.

I don’t like that either.

 

Surrendering to iPhone

After trying almost every other brand of mobile phone over the past quarter century, I finally ended up with an iPhone. I guess it was inevitable. The kids have had iPhones for the past few years; they’ve told me why  they like them, but it didn’t seem to make an impression. Nevertheless, it was important to them.

Several of the family smartphones were showing their age. I’m suspicious that just like the Mission Impossible tape players, smartphones self-destruct when their amortization is complete, but I cannot prove it. In any case, one had several cracks across the screen, while another had a chip out of the side of the screen.

In any case, we ended up with iPhones because of one feature not available on other smartphones.

When we can’t figure out how to do something, we can ask the kids for help.

Cut!

I finally figured out how I could finally become rich and famous–well, at least rich.

I planned on producing a reality TV show in my part of the world. Naturally, it was going to be titled Real Housewives of Hampton Roads, Virginia.

I went scouting for locations and talent. Location isn’t a problem, this area is very picturesque, with the beaches, Chesapeake Bay–you know, lots of excuses to show women in bathing suits, which appears to be a requirement for a reality TV show.

Talent was the problem. I’m not saying the women in this area lack talent, but every time I thought I had someone convinced to star in the show, I’d hear:

“Can’t, I’ve got to get to work.”

“Sorry, I’m the designated driver for soccer, tonight.”

“Ooooh, can’t make it. That’s my kids’ band concert.”

I even had one who laughed at me with this comment, “After the day I’ve had, you have got to be kidding. Thank heaven that tonight my husband is grilling, otherwise it’d be do-it-yourself peanut butter sandwiches for everybody.”

These women are all too busy dealing with real life to appear in a reality show about real life.

Damn, Wrong Guy!

I saw a headline that Joe Walsh was thinking of running for president–I got very excited. I figure Joe, the legendary guitarist from the Eagles, the James Gang, and the stairwells of Kent State University was jumping into the race.

Joe, no doubt, would not have represented the Democratic Party or the Republican Party, but the Party Party. No drugs, no alcohol, but just a good time for all. After all, with Ringo as your brother-in-law and the Bach sisters, all you would have to do is show up and say, “Hi!”

Alas, it was not THAT Joe Walsh, but just another politician (sigh).

It could have been awesome. Damn, wrong guy!

The Latest Hot Dope

They say that the marijuana available today is much more potent than back in the sixties. That may be true in more ways than one.

I read that drug smugglers were packing marijuana in with jalapeño peppers. I expect that the hot chili peppers would throw the drug sniffing dogs off the scent, but you have to wonder how badly it would injure those smoking it.

How would you explain to the emergency room doctor the chemical burns to your fingers and respiratory system?

On the other hand, it might be convenient if you didn’t need to find a lighter or matches if it could self ignite.

A Different World

This is an official request to NASA to conduct exploration of a mysterious world that we know exists, but is beyond my comprehension. It is well reported in the media–especially online–so its existence is irrefutable.

The people in this world live unimaginable lives, but someone believes it’s imperative that their activities are reported to everyone. These include:

  • The real estate transactions of multi-million dollar homes
  • The reliance on automobiles that cost more than all the houses on my block
  • Changes in the color of their hair or style of dress
  • Behavior that would result in arrest and deep shame for most people

The media would have us believe that this world exists in the same metaphysical plane as us, but I’m not convinced. In any case, it is bizarre and may represent a clear and present danger to most of us.

I’m not a conspiracy buff, but in this case I believe the media will try to bury this story by attributing it to actors, actresses, singers, financial experts, and politicians. Don’t be fooled!

“Promises, Promises” (wrote Bert Bacharach)

Musings and promises to myself:

  1. I do not (and will not) watch any television program with a title that begins with Real. Not Real Housewives of Dubuque, not Real Sanitation Workers of Santa Monica, etc. None. Zero. Zip.
  2. Likewise, I avoid any internet stories that claim that a celebrity “confirms what we knew all along.” If we knew it all along, why should we succumb to their click bait?
  3. Some of the stories on the Internet have lives of their own and refuse to die. One example is the story about the girl who passed herself off as a rich duchess. Or was it a countess? All I know is that whenever I see THAT SAME OLD PICTURE I shudder. It’s sounds like an addition to Chevy Chase’s old routine. “Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead AND the phony countess is still in the news!”
  4. And, unless it’s a story about geology, any use of the word rocks (as in Former supermodel rocks a bikini or Barney rocks a Speedo) it will be ignored.

A Different Coda

As we’re trying to downsize, I’m trying to cull the musical herd. My daughter gets to take the piano once she gets her own place. My son’s clarinet doesn’t take up to much space. However, my guitar collection and the drum set do. I hope to get down to my Taylor 6 string, Greenbriar by Peavey 12 string, Peavy Raptor electric, and of course, my Brian May guitar.

My current guitar amplifier is an oldie but a goodie, a Peavey 112 Bandit Sheffield Transtube, Silver Stripe. By the long name, you might expect it to be big. It is. It is also heavy and loud.

My new Peavey Vypyr VIP1 is smaller, lighter, and has all kinds of effects built in. It’s got a 32 bit floating point computer processor, which is a marketer’s way of saying, “You have to learn how to program it.”

The bottom line, I now have a guitar amp, cell phone, tablet, laptop, etc., ad nauseum ALL of which are smarter than I am.

I miss the days when my biggest challenge was to get the VCR to stop flashing “12:00”.

Sports???

As regular readers know, I am not much of a sports fan. After Chuck Ealey was relegated to the Canadian league (my Northern-North America friends got a great quarterback) I lost almost all interest. Then, when I lived in the Cleveland area and Art Modell moved the Browns to Baltimore, I was pretty much done and over with sports.

However, I must wax poetic.

Professional sports pay people obscene amounts of money for their physical prowess and effort. Most sports take inborn physical abilities, training, and practice, practice, practice.  Being a professional athlete is the physical equivalent of being a Jesuit.

However, I always thought it was a stretch to consider auto racing a sport. To me it’s more technology; you build a vehicle that can do phenomenal things, get inside, then drive fast and turn left {repeat}.

In my opinion, billiards was pushing it and I thought it was beyond the pale when ESPN featured poker, until they advised that the “E” stood for “entertainment.” There explanation was a stretch, but, okay.

However, now that video games–VIDEO GAMES–are not only a “sport” but being proposed as a high school athletic program . . . Wait!

I hereby designate blogging as a professional sport, or will as soon as the city builds me an appropriate blogging stadium, grants me tax free status, and arranges for network coverage.

Let me know when I can pick out my $9 million sports car and my $100 million mansion. In the meantime, if you want something, call my agent.

Random Thoughts

How do you “draw a blank?” Once you draw it, it’s no longer blank.
Can you ever dig half-a-hole? No matter how much or how little you dig, it’s a hole. If you try filling in in, it’s still a hole until it is no longer a hole.
Why are people who explore caves called “spelunkers?”
When did the transition occur in which people now have sex first, and then (possibly) fall in love?
What if everyone in the world were all the same color, relative height, four hair colors (brown, black, blonde, red—grey doesn’t count)? How would people know who to hate?