An Open Letter To Friends Or Others

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Dear Service Warmers,

Thank you for ingesting both pots of crayfish broth during the Great Mustard Festival. After all, one can never be certain how long a 6 inch, foot long Sumpway Sand Witch will turn out to be; especially when it has long been known that TV antennas never make good Snackwonder Surprise.

For several years now, I’ve received several reminders that reinforce my long standing belief that there is a neurological connection between my hiney and my head bone. For example, I have determined this by venturing from my typing chair, this one here that I’m sitting on, in my writing room, where I am writing to you while typing and wondering what it was I should actually be telling you.

Do remember what I was gonna say??

Ah yes, I remember one example so well that I can’t really remember because it was more than 14 liggamops ago; but there I was, approximately 676 feet above sea level (plus or minus 3 million miles), thinking that because I used my aging body in the garden that day and it hurt in various places, maybe I should go downstairs and get some aspirin; so I got out of my chair, started out the door of my typing room (which I use for writing) (in addition to sitting) (and now the excessive use of parentheses in an already clunky run-on sentence), and lo and behold I completely forgot for why I was going down the stairs to get something; and I had no idea what the heck it was. Shortly thereafter (well OK, my body didn’t get shortened because I was the same size, but it wasn’t very much time) I mumbled to myself out loud so my ear things could induce vomiting:

“What the…?”

“What was I gonna…??”

“Why was I going downstairs???”

I came back; I sat down, and VOILA!! My brain thing in my headbone was now retrieving memory information. Finally I went for to put the aspirin into my mouth place and wash it down with some dihydrogen oxide (a.k.a. H2O). You see how that worked? I forgot, I came back, I sat down, and I remembered. It was like magic!! Therefore, the logical contusion is: my hiney’s nerve endings and my brain are connected somehow.

Please, no butt head jokes.  Unless you want to.

OK. So back to the original premise of thanking all of you Wonderful Yankle Tramplers out there who were so very helpful with drinking 72 gallons of crayfish squeezin’s during the Grape Custard Vestibule. I’m so very glad it has all been consumed!! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sell that stuff on the street corner?? After a few hours it begins to smell like someone was storing tuna fish salad in my sneakers. After only 47 minutes you can bet your sweet golf hammer that I’ve filled my nostrils with marbles to prevent the barfstinkens from floating into my smellgrabber organs. And if you’ve ever heard “Inna Gadda Da Vida” and the wonderful smellgrabber organ noises produced during the song, well you know you’ve been treated to some of the best doggone Snot Marble Surprise this side of Eastern New Sniffington.

Very well then. I must go find solace in my cat’s new molar polishing machine. In the meantime my friends, I leave you with the wisdom of that age-old someone named Hyram C. Gilmore (a.k.a.me) whose circular germinations you may or may not have ever endured. Way back on Jangulary 34th, 1897 he stated:

“It’s always better to be you than for you to be me; and although you can count to it, ‘eight’ is a word.“

Yes.

And now it’s time for a couple video things.  If you listen very closely to the words of the first song, you’ll notice that it makes at least as much sense as all the stuff you’ve read until now with your eyes that you used for reading on this page of story weirdness. The second song is, of course, “Inna Gadda Da Vida” in which the aforementioned smellgrabber organ (which may or may not be a real organ name thing), is featured.

Thank you.

And now for the smellgrabber song…

Foogly’s Fribbly Travels

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When grandsons came to visit, they got to choose what I wrote for “Happy Friday!!!” When I asked what the title for one week’s story should be, Ollie quickly said, “Fribbly’s Travels.” Then his younger brother Gabe mentioned, “You always get to choose!!” “Well Gabe,” I asked, “what would you like me to write about?” “Foogly’s travels!” he answered quickly. “Hmmm,” I replied. “How about Foogly’s Fribbly Travels??” They both chuckled their approval. So without further ado, here is:

Foogly’s Fribbly Travels

Late one morning, just before sunset during a thunderstorm which suddenly erupted into a very cold snow that seemed very crunchy and full of worms, Foogly was so bored he started drawing “Dream Maps” about really cool amusement parks made of sticks, rocks, crayons, and a sentence that was way too long. Foobly called them “Dream Maps” because these were places he had always dreamed of visiting, but for some strange reason they did not sell his favorite food: tomato ice cream soup with grilled coyote toenails.

Foogly’s friend Cheeba was watching intently as these maps were drawn with some of the most beautiful colors. After the 17th map was made, Cheeba decided to offer her opinion about some really cool places to see. “Foogly, I really like your cool maps!” Cheeba declared. “But hey, I have some really fribbly places you might like to visit also!!” she continued. “Fribbly??” wondered Foogly. “What does ‘fribbly’ mean??” “It’s a combination of “wow” and “holy moly!!” Cheeba replied. “Oh… well not sure how you got that, but OK, if you say so,” Foogly said.

Cheeba offered to make her own maps, but with a twist. “Foogly, may I please borrow your cell phone?” she asked. Foogly answered, “I don’t have one, but here’s my Dad’s… he won’t mind… I don’t think.” “OK cool,” Cheeba said, and continued, “next I need a pot of water.” Foobly filled a 2 quart pot with some water. “Next,” Cheeba went on, “we’ll need 2 tablespoons of salt, 1 ½ teaspoons of cat litter (unused), 14 drops of red food coloring, and a small candle.” “What do we do with all that??” Foogly asked. “Just hand them all to me and I’ll show you,” Cheeba replied.

Foogly brought all the supplies to Cheeba and watched with wonder as she dumped them all into the pot of water and stirred everything up with a wooden spoon. “OK!” Cheeba said. “Now hand me those comics and a pair of scissors.” Foogly was a bit confused, but he went ahead and got the comics and the scissors and gave them to Cheeba. She giggled a little (I think she thought last week’s Garfield was pretty funny), then started cutting up the comics into little shreds and dumped them in the pot with all the rest of the stuff; and again she began to stir.

Cheeba smiled and stared into the pot, then she shouted, “OK!! LET’S TAKE THIS OUTSIDE!!” “Hey!!” said Foogly, “I’m right here!! You don’t need to shout!!” Cheeba apologized and grabbed the pot and quickly walked outside with it. “OK, ready??” she asked Foogly. “Um… I guess!!” Foogly answered. Suddenly there came a slushy !! SPLAT !! as Cheeba flung the contents of the pot onto the driveway.

“Wow!!” said Foogly, being awestruck by the mess. “Holy Moly!!” exclaimed Cheeba with a big grin. She was pretty happy with all the weird patterns everything made in the driveway. “OK,” she said, “you still have your Dad’s cell phone?” “Yep,” answered Foogly, and he handed it to her. Cheeba dialed a number and put the phone to her ear. “Hi Mom!! Yes, I’m still at Foogly’s house. Can you come and pick us up so we can go get some ice cream? Really?? Cool!!! Oh and can we go to that holy moly wow museum afterward? Yes?!?!? That would be really fribbly!! Thank you Mom!!” Cheeba hung up and handed the phone back to Foogly.

“Let’s go back inside and wait for my Mom,” Cheeba said. “But what about the mess in the driveway??” Foogly pleaded. “Don’t worry,” Cheeba reassured him. “All that stuff will combine and dissolve before you know it.” Foogly wasn’t so sure, but he was very happy that Cheeba’s Mom came to get them before his Dad got home from work. There was still a big mess in the driveway, but Foogly and Cheeba had a very fribbly afternoon. And they had ice cream!!

The End

Friggley’s Favorite Game

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Happy Friday to all who are reading this; even if you’re not reading it on Friday. This particular Happy Friday was the result of a visit from our grandsons several moogles ago; and during their visit I implored them to drum up some Happy Friday Fodder.

“I’m looking for a story suggestion… do either of you have a title for a story??” I asked. Ollie thought a minute, and replied, “ How about Friggley’s Favorite game?” “Friggley, huh?” I answered. “Yeah! Friggley,” Ollie said with a big smile. “OK…” I replied, and then started wondering what the heck to write. Anyway here goes:

Friggley’s Favorite Game

IT was a dark and stormy afternoon, just before breakfast while the crinkly worm windows wiggled wildly while whining with whistles. Friggley and Foofle, his pet snick-a-boo were just rolling out of the linen closet when they heard a knock at the back door. It was his friends, Blibber and Zork, and they were wiggling their eyebrows very fluffy-like trying to send eyebrow code to Friggley. Friggley opened the door to let them in, while Foofle danced around on his oversized nostrils in a most jovial manner.

Zork and Blibber laughed most iggidy at Foofle, then sat down and helped themselves to all the nice breakfast food that had been sitting on the table for at least 23 seconds. “Mmmm sure glad you’re our friend and don’t mind us helping ourselves,” Zork said. “These are the best clamshell cupcakes I’ve had all year!!” “Glad you like them,” Friggley snorted. “I found them on the road during The Great Chainsaw Festival. They keep really well in the freezer. You just take them out and yell at them in German and they’re ready to eat!!”

Blibber smiled at his two friends and slipped away to the fridge. He came back with the mustard; popped the top, squeezed the bottle, and started writing his name on one of the cupcakes. “This is what I do before I try to sell these on e-bay,” he chortled. “People like personalized banana lumps that can be reused as holiday decorations. I’m thinking I can sell about 43 of these every day for the next 6 weeks and I won’t have to ride that broken tricycle to school anymore. No no… I’ll be traveling in style. Wait till every one sees my brand new antique log wagon!!”

Friggley was grinning from ear to nose. He always enjoys his friends’ silly ways. Foofle seemed pretty happy also, as he was waggling all 7 of his saberteeth during Zork and Blibbler’s antics. “Hey, would you guys like something to drink? I know those clamshell cupcakes are pretty crunchy,” he said. “Sure!!” Blibbler and Zork said in unison. “Whatchya got??” “Well,” Friggley continued, “we have milk… it’s expired but it doesn’t have much mold on it. We have Mountain Dew… oh, and we have Jabba Jabba Jellyfish Juice.” “YUCKKK!!!” Zork and Blibber exclaimed. Then Zork said, “Oooohhh gross!! I’ll have the Jabba Jabba Jellyfish Juice!!” Blibber announced, “I’ll have the milk… you got a mold scraper??” “Sure do,” answered Friggley. “I know it’s disgusting but I’m gonna have the Mountain Dew,” Friggley went on. “You guys OK with that??” Again in unison, Zork and Blibbler said, “Yep!”

They all guzzled down their drinks while watching each other make very funny faces. Then Friggley said, “Hey, you guys wanna play my favorite game?” Both Zork and Blibber nodded their heads with enthusiasm. “Cool,” said Friggley. “Wanna play checkers? Of course I like chess almost as much”

Zork and Blibber tilted their heads in wonder. “Huh??” they said. “Chess??” queried Zork. “Checkers??” asked Blibber. “Never heard of them…” they said.

“Oh.” Said Friggley, “OK never mind, let’s just watch some cartoons.”

So they spent the rest of the afternoon burping strange odors from their magnificent beverages, and laughing at the likes of Little Lulu and Betty Boop.

The End

The Inner Peace Police

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Hello My Friends,

I’m writing to tell you that my fingers are broken and can no longer type anything that requires typing. You may well ask, “Howma na heck are you having it the broken fingers? Anyhow?” Then again, you may not ask that.

Please do NOT ask that. It’s very poor grammar, and Grandma would find it less than delicious.

The reason my fingers are broken is because they are not broken at all, merely sleeping in a typing trance that occurs each week during the Morshnayvian Lunar Cycle. Previously I was riding a Pepto Dismal Cycle, but that one only had 14 wheels so I switched back to the Bread Flavored Hamper Cycle. It coasts down hills really well, but the brakes are made of chalk dust; and of course the FDA says that such things cannot be used in soups any longer.

Please refer to your Fronkle’s Universal Dictionary for a new and soil proof container for your unwanted dander. If you decide your dander is too oily for soil, gently injure the nearest lamp tossing machine and stand back while the multicolored fizzing foam engulfs your left elbow.

Thanks very much for being. I know you all are, and I’m truly grateful that this is. Hey, if you weren’t, you simply wouldn’t be; and then of course my thanks for your being would soon roll hastily toward the nearest asparagus burrito.

At this point, I must beseech unto you: If you do not enjoy this upcoming weekend, or any other day for that matter, I shall be forced to report you to the Inner Peace Police. If those guys apprehend your frownings, you’ll be mandated to toss marshmallows into the gopher hole for several hundred milliseconds. Soon after that, your presence will be requested at the North American Sandwich Throwing Contest, which is never held at midnight on top of Old Smokey.

Stand proudly during a meeting and give each of your office supplies a name; and tell them jokes often with a very big voice. This activity will very will very quickly let you know who you can trust.

Now I will go back to my finger realignment. Please call my veterinarian and find out if my lunch is still there.

Thank you,

Abner L. Pignibbler

a.k.a. “Mr. Kaboom”

And now for more varnish tray zipper waddles…

Random Silly Textings

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Hello my friends. I must confess that it’s rather difficult for me to watch the news these days. So rather than exponkulate (which is not a word) on the terrible sloshing noises of icky events and behaviors; I’ve decided to inject some random silliness into this week’s Happy Friday!!! thingy bopper.

So what follows is not something I just invented with my brain thing. No! These are reprints of very silly notes I actually sent to work friends via instant messaging office-type electronic hello.

Yes.

You see, I retired from the rather high-stress world of IT, where computers were both our livelihood but also the bane of our existence. To lighten up the mood, I’d send random notes to my friends. Then one day someone told me, “I hope you are saving these, they’d make a great book some day.” Well, I don’t know about that, but after looking over them again I did give myself some smiles. Is that the mark of a sick mind??

I hope not!

Anyway, after my friend told me about saving my silly notes, well by golly that’s just what I started doing. I made a text file and would add to it as I went along, and before I retired I sent them to my home e-mail. And now I’d like to share some of them with you. I gave each note a little title, That I Will Put In Bold, which didn’t appear to my friends… only the text that followed. OK, enough introduction, here goes the sharing.

Weather Have you seen the weather lately??  What are these tiny white flakes falling from the sky??  Little tiny airborne ice crystals!!! Kinda pretty… I’d love to snow what they’re really called.

Nozzles I’ve installed Nostril Nozzles to increase my snorking efficiency.  Hopefully this will enhance my ability to sort snot snorkenwibbles.

Snacks Some Of The Most Delicious Snacks Are Capitalized To Enhance Their Complete Lack Of Nutritional Value.

Enjoyments Many of my enjoyments have wriggled right out of Mars and other parts of the Aurora Borealis.  I hope my cat learns to speak German soon.

Mizzlepop Some of the best Yo Vonkeny can be found under the Mizzlepop Trees.

Acorns I’d like to know who planted the acorns in my knees. Now that they’ve sprouted, people are starting to talk… I hear whispers of a new nickname:  “Oak Knees.”

Chowder This coming Sagnerday I will illegally change my name to Frapzak Mizzlepop, which of course was never a Native American name meaning “Slumbers With Chowder.”   Used donuts and apple chowder vinegar will be served in celebration.

Science In the interest of Science, I will be formulating experiments involving TV viewing habits of small reptiles.  Also, I hope to learn whether they can smell their favorite color of the alphabet.  Feel free to send large cash donations in support of these efforts. 

Thank you.

Turkeys I’ve been trying to get the neighborhood turkeys to speak English, but when I talk to them their replies are unintelligible. All I hear from them is “Garble!!  Garble!!  Garble!!”

Foods During my retirement I’ll be inventing foods like Peanut Butter & Garlic Sandwiches (PBGS), and perhaps Eggs On The Half Shell (EOTHS).  Then I’ll invite all my friends over for a snack and we’ll wash it down with Banana Peel Surprise (BPS).

Fuzz I don’t understand all this purple fuzz growing out of my molars.  I’ve tried to style it with a small comb, but it gets messed up every time I eat.

Dust Here comes the Dust Monkey.  His name is Maroo.  He’s got plenty of dustings for me and for you. I offered him candy to eat on his break.  He told me, “No thank you, I prefer cake.”  “I don’t want your dust now!!” I started to whine. “Well just go and put it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

And finally…

Muffins Clang! Clang!  Clang! go the muffins as they are squeezed by the opening door.  Feathers slam to the ground with a loud thud.  My ears are filled with taco sauce!!  These are some ways Happy Friday can be enjoyed.

So there you go. Now you have seen some of the random thoughts that fell out of my brain thing while I was being exceedingly productive at work.

And now how about some old fashioned nonsense from my favorite silly but long gone favorites.

Please Pass The Cholesterol

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Superbowl Sunday looms over the horizon. Seems like just a year ago I was ignoring it just as much as I pretty much always have! Let’s see now… who’s playing anyway? The New York Mets and the Toronto Maple Leafs I think maybe. I sincerely hope the Mets win this year. I don’t believe they’ve ever taken a Superbowl in the entire history of their existence! So they are way overdue, don’t you think? I will maybe even watch some of the game. Looking forward especially to the halftime show when I’m hoping The Who will do their sing along with Elmer Fudd. Oh, and if I accidentally catch some of those wonderful commercials that would be OK too.

Anyway…

I’ll have to admit that I have attended one or two Superbowl parties in the past. Nothing like a nice spread of goodies and drinkings to help me make my belly and hiney the same shape: ROUND. Don’t get me wrong, I love the chips and dip, nachos, wings, fancy meat balls, and stuffed jalapeno peppers to make a night complete. I love all that stuff. Haven’t been to such a party in many years, but my hiney and my belly have not lost their shape for some strange reason.

Maybe I should quit with the 14 bowls of ice cream I’ve been having for breakfast every morning. That shouldn’t be so bad, should it?? Oh yes, I do enjoy fried chicken covered with chocolate syrup just before bed. And not to forget the double roasted French fries with extra extra butter sauce. Wash it all down with a pint of heavy cream just to make sure it doesn’t get stuck on the way down.

This is a recipe for success!!

Well OK, I may have been exaggerating just a little bit. I’m actually eating quite a bit better than, say, during the holidays; but all eat and no play makes Ken a fat boy. I am not interested in taking medication for the cholesterol. I know I can beat this… I just need to do a few simple things like run 18 miles each evening and restrict my daily food intake to a nice 1/2 ounce serving of celery chased with 33 gallons of water. Maybe my friends will let me sniff their snacks once in a while.

Aside from my efforts to stay clear of all things fattening, I definitely will be tuned in to at least a portion of the Superbowl this Sunday. That’s because after the Mets play a few innings against the LA Lakers, there will be some kind of halftime show that might even be entertaining. Hopefully they’ll have someone of my generation performing. Will it be The Who with Elmer Fudd or someone like Ringo McCartney or maybe even Eric Crampton?? I just don’t know!

If you pass my house during the game, don’t worry about all the hooting and hollering. It will just be me getting all excited while I shout “LET’S GO METS!!” at the TV. Sometimes I get rather worked up and my tray of garlic flavored marshmallows gets knocked over. Then when I stoop to pick up the mess, the cat starts making off with my chocolate covered sardines. I wouldn’t mind so much really, but just last night both my kitties got into my deep fried mashed potatoes with that delicious bacon fat gravy. Gotta watch those kids, ya know??

Well friends, I hope you all enjoy the game and have a safe and enjoyable Superbowl Sunday. And if you have cats or other animals, guard your snacks!!

So… ever what the guys on the field are really saying during a pro-football game?? Well watch this video and you still won’t know!! But it might make you laugh…

The NFL blocks it here, but click on this and you can watch–> Funny NFL Bad Lip Reading

Just Mind Your Manners

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So much sadness in the news these days. I mean, too many people are just being way too naughty! And then, some really naughty people are pointing fingers at those who were thought not to be so naughty but in fact admit to having been naughty; yet the naughtier people who deny their naughtiness seem obsessed with pointing their fingers at those who admit they’ve been naughty; and the naughtiest, finger-pointing folks seem completely clueless that if they insist on pointing fingers, well guess what… they’re gonna get pointed at all the more and probably cause complete disregard for proper paragraph construction and maybe even a pretty long run-on sentence!!

So there!!

I gotta ask… doesn’t anyone think before they act, or even speak?? Is the number of kind people in this world dwindling at an alarming rate? Are there any folks who care at least as much about others as they do themselves? Doesn’t anyone have manners anymore??

Sheesh!!

I’ll have to say, though, that lately the news has brought many people out from hiding who finally feel comfortable enough to stand up and say, “This is enough!!” Women have been treated terribly for millennia. Cultural intolerance has caused too many wars. Industry has sweetened existence for much of the human world but this too often came through harsh exploitation of less fortunate humans and of course Mother Nature.

Well, I may be a weirdo (no need to chime in on that…) but I think that yes, there still are many, MANY people who follow the Golden Rule much of the time. Maybe even most of the time. It’s very simple, yet complex: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” I had that one drilled into my noggin in Sunday School. Well guess what? Muslims have a very similar version; and although I’m too lazy to research it I’m willing to bet that many other cultures do too. I’m convinced the reason we don’t hear much in the news about folks who live by the Golden Rule is that: a) they are probably us (you and me), and 12) the media reports primarily about the garbage because that is what sells.

Sad, huh?

Well, not completely sad. I still cling to the belief that we’re going to be alright. Yes, there’s lots of bad news; and unfortunately we need to hear it. Otherwise we wouldn’t feel a need to change. It may take some time, but the conversation is changing, and I think for the greater good. For example, one hot talking point that’s still quite current is that sexual harassment is never OK. And another that’s at least as important: our planet is being ruined by our human habits, but we can work together to change these habits.

Some of the discussions may be difficult. We all have a voice, we all deserve to be heard; but it’s also our obligation to listen. Even if it’s hate speech. We must stamp out hatred, and sometimes we may have to be firm. But again, we can be firm but still treat others with respect. Heated shouting matches are about as effective as fighting fire with fire. A dear friend of mine used to say, “We can disagree without being disagreeable.” It seems all too easy for folks to bark at each other; takes much more effort to stay calm and do our best to find solutions.

All we need to do is listen to Mom: “Just mind your manners!!” Anyone besides me hear that when you were growing up?

Anyway, I went hunting for a video about manners… but a friend of mine posted this on my timeline recently and I think it says it very nicely.

No Sense, No Feelin’

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I try hard to avoid politics with my blog thing but sometimes the news screeches at me and I feel obliged to speak up a bit. Today’s political hoopla gives me deep sadness… I’m still not finding any sense in it all. Billions of dollars were spent during last year’s political campaigns… that money could have done quite a bit of good for some of our less fortunate citizens. The ultra-rich are far too common in our political machines; and I don’t know about you but that troubles me greatly.

I’m beginning to feel numb inside… but I’m not going to allow that to fester. None of this makes sense to me; but then again all of it does. My Mother used to jokingly say “No sense, no feelin’ “ if one of us fell down but didn’t react much from the pain. Well much of the politics these days makes no sense. But for the no feelin’ part… well… as you may have guessed this post is not gonna be a very Happy Friday.

One of my favorite analogies to describe Our Creator came to me years ago in the form of an anonymous quote: “Nature is God’s reflection.” I take that to mean everything from what we can’t see with a microscope to all that is too distant to see with even the most elaborate telescopes. Then it was pointed out to me that we are all part of that reflection. So all of us deserve to be respected and treated kindly; regardless of our political leanings.

I’ll make this rant short and sweet: I believe it’s our duty as free citizens for EVERYONE to please pay close attention to what’s going on and be ready to speak out loudly and repetitively when our values start getting dragged into the swampy muck. We all need to speak up for equality and decency, and speak OUT against hatred and division. We all need to be kind and take care of each other.

Some of us remember a similar time; and we had songs, many of which are still being sung today, to remind us.

Gonna be a long four years. Long Time Gone…

Who Cares About Whom?

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There are times when Happy Friday!!! jumps out of my fingers and into the keyboard; and there are other timings when my fingers not have word jump out. It’s almost as if they are fighting for something to breathe in a sea of oxygenated bread molecules that have never seen the blight of clay. In other words, they’re are sum thymes when I gist can’t stick an idea on the end of my nose thing and launch it into a narrative of weekly infestation.

Four egg sample:  my day started with some sadness about the loss of a friend; and this of course brought more sadness about the loss of my Beautiful Girlfriend on May 30 of last year. I’ve been a bit mooshy all day. My friend’s funeral was at the same place where I laid my Honey Pie’s “barbecue quilt” over her body to prepare for cremation just short of 8 months ago. To top it off, the same funeral director who took care of my Lovely Bride was also officiating at my friend’s ceremony. Consequently, my creative well was completely dry when I sat down to write this evening; Therefore, I knew I’d probably better dig up something out of the archives, massage it a little, and present it to your eyeballs to enjoy; hopefully without greatly flammable pencil warts.  Yes friends, there are times when I look back at the Holy Cow I Have A Lot Of Stories (HCIHALOS) and “recycle” one; so tonight I cheated and dug up one from 4 years before the day we’re having now.

So to continue with the “I have no eye deer what to write” crackle sauce:  when trying to discover a topic or idea for a Happy Friday!!! thing, sometimes a friend will tell me something that jars my cookies like no other fried banana milkshake could ever induce a nice warm cranberry casserole with fuzzy coconut thimbles mounted atop a psychedelically decorated Mambo Contest. This is a moment of inspiration from which I become most eviscerated with a nice piece of antimony topped with a small dollop of crème brulee.

Therefore in the spirit of my Grandma who never gave me any Grammar lessons, I hereby renounce this run-on introductory somnambulism; which was precipitated in a conservation in witch, once upon a time, several years ago, in a land very near to my home, while riding in an automobile very near to my hiney, in a smell phone very near to my ear, and while I was still working and therefore not yet retired, my dear friend Dave Gordon, whose first name and last name are really both First Names; this Dave Guy he said unto me, “I think you should write something about whom. You know, like everybody says ‘who do you love,’ when it really should be ‘whom do you love?’ “

“So!” I said to myself while listening to this Grampa talk Grammar; “So now I must look this up, as I am ashamed to admit that although I try to indemnify my audible colonoscopy with good usage; there are times when I fall short, much like many U.S. citizens who seam to have difficulty with both spelling; usage; punctuation!, and the correct contextual use of the word “both.”

Its time’s like these when a much younger me would get all bent out of shape when a person would use an apostrophe to write plural’s rather than showing possession and / or when used in a contraction. Of course, many women who have given birth would probably rather not remember the contractions. However, this is no excuse to vary from the rules of Grammar (which need not be capitalized unless it is used to begin a sentence), or Grandma either for that matter. Ignorance of the Grammar (yes I know, I capitalized it again) rules may sabotage your chances of getting a job, while disobedience of Grandma rules may sabotage your chances of getting more cookies. Nay, I say unto you, I no longer flatulate over the lack of knowledge of “proper English grammar.” I do shake my head at times when I see it on billboards or in sentences written by college students; but it is not for me to judge. Mine is but to sing songs loudly and belch boastfully when my belly is full of delicious rock salt pudding.

Our son once pointed out a well documented fact that “who” was a word that was invented by owls. That of course is obvious to anyone who may have listened to owls asking that question over and over and over and over again. We may not know to whom they are posing this age-old question. That does not matter; because, of course, they know. And since they only use “who,” and never have I heard them use “whom;” well that just illustrates to me that they understand (and probably invented) the following rules that I just stole from www.grammarly.com:

“Who and whom are both pronouns. Who is a subject pronoun (like I, he, she, we, and they), whereas whom is an object pronoun (like me, him, her, us, and them). Try this simple trick when in doubt: If you can replace the word with he or she, use who. If you can replace it with him or her, use whom. ”

OK… so let’s have some “reverse fun” with that rule and substitute bass-ackwardly:

“Who are you?” could be switched to “He (or she) are you?” and…

“Whom do you love?” could be noogled to “Her (or him) do you love?” and perhaps one of my brand new, just now favorites…

“To whom it may concern,” could be flinkled to “To him (or her) it may concern,”

So in the case of a preposition like “to,” then whom is to be used, and please, try to remember that a preposition is a word one should never end a sentence with. You may wonder why anyone would object to such usage, but the object is missing so don’t go there with me you silly baroopy noise making person you!!

Oh I could go on and on with this, don’tcha know. None of those examples in the “reverse fun” substitution calamity are correct usage, but guess what? I don’t care!! Ha ha!! I laugh to this!! I am now chortling! Chortle chortle!! Guffaw guffaw!! Or if Popeye were laughing, “OCK ock ock ock ock ock!!” Weird laugh…

Anyway, although I used to be very persnickety about such things, I try hard not to snip and gribble about someone’s grammar, nor their Grandma. One thing I’ve learned during my sojourn in this plane of sentience is, to quote Ebenezer in my favorite Scrooge movie, “I don’t know anything. I never did know anything. But now I know I don’t know anything.”

Sew their.

And now (just like last week) for something completely different …

I’m Leaving

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Dear Friends,

I know you may have become weary of seeing my face so I’m not going to change it at all for you. No, instead I’m moving to Zootflaven and I will change my name to Bremply Doatlekonk. Ha ha on youse kids, so there!! On the Bookface I announced that I was going to change my name to Milksnort Fogwaffle, but that was at least two hours ago, so of course it’s ancient history.

If you’ve never been to Zootflaven, don’t come crying to me. I never told you to come along during my last vacation there; because I didn’t want to share any of those tasty poshtangles or the delightfully disgusting hock-pitooey drinks. Sure, I’ve made both of those at home but the mess incurred during preparation is genuinely disguised as a small rodent burping through a keyhole.

Is this the part where we all sing the “Cuckoo Cranberry” song? Well try to keep up, but I will give you the words…

Cuckoo Cranberry, lying in the street.

Please don’t expect it to taste like meat.

Its face was squished by that big fat bus.

And nobody yelled or tried to warn us.

Oh Cuckoo Cranberry, where did you go?

If he hollers let him go, eeny meeny miny moe.

This of course is sung to the tune of “Cuckoo Cranberry Ate A Whistle.” Please do not confuse this with the award winning song, “Cuckoo Clock Rock.”

Did you know that crayons were invented?? Those things are all over the place!! I’ve even seen them in restaurants, but not for eating. What I mean is, I don’t eat the crayons anymore, nor to I try to use them for eating anything. I have been scolded and told that this is bad manners. However, I do have fond memories of peeling them and “accidentally” dropping them into the radiators at Sunday school. They become very colorfully liquified… eventually. As an added bonus, they give a pleasant colored melted wax scent to the atmosphere.

Perhaps, just perhaps, I should not have put those two bottles of cough syrup on my cereal this morning. My cats gave me funny looks when I took all the pictures to post on InstaBook. Whoa… maybe I should have dumped the contents of those two bottles into the bowl of cereal!! Cool idea… probably would have been more photogenic than just the unopened bottles. All those Loopy Frootles floating in purple syrup… maybe place it on a turntable and take a 12 minute video.

Farm out, man!! Right arm!! Solid state!! Groovy gravy!!

OK… now you know my intentions for the next several solstice arrivals. If you’d like to come visit me in Zateflooven; please visit your ambidextrous orthodontist for a seldom opinion. Just walk up to the reception area and ask for me by my new name, Broatly Konkledemp. I will be the one erupting in boisterous laughter as I make all the pens and pads of paper appear to float in the air; for you see by then I will have learned to make myself invisible.

In the meantime, please remember what Hyram C. Gilmore has said for years:

“It’s better to be you than for you to be me, and although you can count to it, eight is a word.”

Insincerely yours,

Krempledoat Bonkely

“And now,” as Mr. Cleese would have said, “for something completely different.”