Author Archives: Ken Hansen

Of Utmost Importance: My Holiday Requirements for 2025

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Dear Beautiful Everyone,

In keeping with my very own tradition which I have started all by myself on this blog thing; I’d like to ring in the shiny new 2025 Holiday Season with a reminder to you all that the time has once again arrived again once more, yet again and it’s like here already; even though I’ve truly overused the workd “again” in this run-on silly sentence that really only needed to again remind you that this is the time of year with the Ho Ho Ho and the Randolph the Rude Nosed Rain Deer and Frosty the Snotman and of course the Commercials and the Holiday Flatulence Delays during my cat’s friend’s Tree Lighting Matrimony.

In other words, Happy Holiday Season to All Of You, Wherever You Are. And yes, that Right noW I Know I Am capitalizinG words InCoRrEctly but I simplY do that FoR thE fUn of it.

Sew Their.

As many of you may know, it’s around this time that I deliver my Holiday Requirements List For All Humans To Embrace Fully And Without Question. Sure, I’m an old hippie who grew up during the ’60s and have often been dismayed by what seems to be worldwide greed and disparity. However, in my own case of being completely silly and with the full intent of sending a smile or two; I hereby place into print the items I require as gifts for this year.

Actually, I don’t need anything. I’ve been blessed beyond measure with a nice home, and a beautiful family who are both near and far. However: Please note, that although I’m very grateful for everything I have and (for the most part) everyone I know; I still need more stuff and I want you to go get it for me now or perhaps yesterday or the day before. OK? I mean hey, I don’t wanna get nasty or nuttin’ wit you. Just get da stuff like I ask fer it.

Got it?

Good!!

So without delay, here is MY LIST OF HOLIDAY REQUIREMENTS FOR 2025:

A*) Please get 3 of the 17 Liter containers of Uncle Zelnish’s Concrete Polish. I’ve been buffing our sidewalk and driveway for quite some time now and can’t seem to get them shiny.

4n) I need another 7 lbs. of Marvel Mystery Raisin Skin Kaboom. It’s an awesome addition to sauces and also pretty darn good for tire repair. I used every last ounce I had last year, and now I can’t for the life of my find my flashlight or my Swiss Army knife.

c12) For my reading enjoyment, I’ll need an autographed copy of “How To Tell Your Best Friend’s Friend They Have A Booger,” by Dr. Hamilton “Sheila“ Snorkhammer.

x9) I’ve always needed some toenail growth regulators. I really dislike clipping my toenails, especially the ones on the Big Toe. I think there are research quality toenail toasters out there that inhibit fleas. Maybe those will work.

7!) Wow, remember those Zagnut candy bars we used to get when we were kids? I found out those are REALLY GOOD with coffee!! They have them at Cracker Barrel!! Don’t buy me any of those. Instead, just follow me around for a year or so and buy my meal when I go to Cracker Barrel. OK? Yes, and take care of the tip too if you don’t mind. I usually tip on a scale of 133 cents for every dollar spent on the meal; especially when someone else is footing the bill. Please don’t forget that part. That’s fine, thank you.

And finally…

V3) If you call ahead I’ll be very OK with you coming over and cooking up some fried chicken. Holy Moly I love that stuff. Sure, you could cheat and say you are cooking and then drop some Meijer and / or Plumbs fried chicken into a hot pan when I’m not looking. In my professional opinion, Meijer and Plumbs make some of the Best Fried Chicken In The West Michigan Universe. If you accidentally brought some over; this would cause me to salivate profusely and I might even invite you to stay and help me eat it. Maybe.

In the meantime, please tell your friends and family you love them. Or at the very least, show them you love them. You can do that with a smile, a hug, or by simply being kind. Be nice to a stranger. Sing out loud for happy. If you can’t sing, try whistling. Or something. Something good. Be willing to show whoever you may see that in spite of all the bad we hear about the world, there really is quite a lot of good stuff going on.

There really is you know.

Peace and Love to You All.

In case you were wondering, this is how all the stuff gets put together and prepared for delivery.

Happy Thanksgiving!! Oh, And As The Frogs Say…

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I was at the grocery store the other day and saw that turkeys were on sale for 32 cents a pound. Holey Moly!! I can’t believe the holidays are zooming in already!! Wasn’t it September just a few days ago?? The older I get, the quicker the days / months / years seem to pass. A former boss of mine explained this to us years ago with a very wise (and funny) expression: “As the frogs say, time’s fun when you’re having flies!”

Soon I’ll be slaving over the turkey / hot dog / cottage cheese casserole… and of course the obligatory mac and cheese laced with pepperoni and pickled beets. Maybe some cream corn with pickled asparagus casserole… you know, the kind with the crunchy onions on top. Oh, and not to forget a couple cans of cranberry sauce stacked up in the middle of the platter to create an elegant presentation. Some folks even take the cranberry sauce OUT of the can!! Then the dessert trays: all those Twinkies to unwrap and place “just so” on the pizza platter… And OH!! Not to forget the Hostess Sno-Balls and Moon Pies. Kool-Aid in fancy plastic cups… you know, the see through kind. A feast fit for a champion cow pie flinger!

HUH?? Oh wait, maybe that was the dream I had after all those liverwurst, bacon, and salami sandwiches. Nothing like a few thousand grams of sodium nitrite to make a nicely hallucinogenic “free movie” dream.

Anywhooo…

Things have changed over the years… our daughter, son-in-law and grandsons will probably spend Thanksgiving with our son-in-law’s side of the family. Doesn’t matter, because we all get together on the Sunday after Thanksgiving when I make our traditional meal with all the trimmings. Believe it or not, I love cooking all that stuff. I do the whole shebang: turkey (duh), bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, veggies, pie. All homemade except the pie crusts. I’m just too lazy for that pie crust monkey business. My pumpkin pie is usually made from hubbard squash. Pumpkins are OK I guess, but hubbard squash has much more flavor… almost like sweet potatoes. Pie will be topped with real whipped cream sweetened with local honey. After stuffing our faces we’ll decorate the Christmas tree.

The ritual of preparing all the stuff gives me lots of time to reflect. Starting around Hallowe’en, my Beautiful Girlfriend Wife Person would be cranking the Christmas music. I didn’t mind it; but I’ve always preferred quiet (or maybe some classical music) when I’m “in the zone.” Cook, reflect… cook, reflect. And now that I’m “getting up there,” in my seventies… I of course have many, many memories. My family had lots of loss over the years. One of the most difficult to endure: this will be the second Thanksgiving since my Beautiful Wife left for the Great Beyond a year and a half ago.

For the past several years we’ve had the good fortune of spending Thanksgiving at our dear friend Ruthie’s. Holy Moly that girl can cook. Of course; there are two who will be missing from Ruthie’s Turkey Day: My Beautiful Honey Pie and our dear friend Lew (Ruthie’s hubby).We all miss both of them terribly. However, we can still smile as we enjoy Brussels sprouts made specially in Lew’s honor. Back then, Thanksgiving happened at our house or Lew and Ruthie’s. The last year Lew was still here, it was my year to cook. Lew noticed I was making Brussels sprouts for dinner, and when I asked whether he liked them, and he emphatically used an expletive to describe his feelings: “F*%$ NO!!” We all had a very good laugh over that proclamation. Lew’s passing shifted the traditional meal to Ruthie’s house. Lew has been gone 17 years now (I can hear those frogs talking); and every year Ruthie makes the honorary dish named FN Brussels Sprouts. The initials FN were used to shield the youngsters (who are not so young now) from the profanity.

In spite of the challenges I’ve faced over the past 18 months, I mostly want to say that I’m a very fortunate human. So long as I keep that thought foremost in my brain, life is really very good. I get annoyed at all the commercial hoopla this time of year. However, I’m getting much better at practicing the principle: “accept the things I cannot change.” I do my part in contributing to the family gift pile, but more importantly Thanksgiving kicks off a string of “gratitude days” for me. The holidays have a way of digging up memories of days long gone; and I get pretty mushy this time of year.

I really am blessed beyond measure. Earlier this year, God (whoever they are) put an amazing woman in my life. We both know what a long, happy marriage is, and we both know what the loss of a spouse from such a union is all about. To top it off, before we met in person we both made really sure we had lots of things in common. Couldn’t ask for a better person to share life with through the twilight years! On top of all that, I’m loving retirement, I have a warm, safe place to sleep, plenty to eat, and I even have cars that actually work! All this is pretty luxurious stuff when you think about it. Although I don’t have much extra I do my best to donate to folks who help those who are in need.

I know it’s a bit early, but I sincerely hope all you turkey (and non-turkey) eaters out there have a simply marvelous Thanksgiving. And I truly hope that you are as blessed as I am.

So here comes another Thanksgiving at Ruthie’s house. One year she treated us to “Turducken,” but I don’t think the “duck” part went quite like this…

The Miracle of Healing: Old Ouch vs. Young Ouch

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This past year I turned 71, which of course makes me older than compost. When I was a youngster, dinosaurs still listened to radios with vacuum tubes inside them, and telephones had these weird things called “rotary dials.” Ahh, the good old days. I call them the good old days because when I was a kid it seemed like my body could really take a beating and bounce back for more.

No, this did NOT mean I was out picking fights. I was way too chicken for any of that monkey business. I’m talking about things like riding my big Columbia bike as fast as I could into a hurricane fence, just because I was convinced that this bike was the toughest thing on wheels. Of course, I became airborne when the bike stopped suddenly, but I got away with a few bruises and bumps and went on to the next self-destructive play adventure. Healing up didn’t seem to take too long in those days; and for the most part I could endure lots of bodily clunkings with little residual effect.

But now…

So like there I was, minding my own business, enjoying the luxurious but noisy comfort of the Cub Cadet lawn mowing machine, when I barely brushed past a wild rose bush; and it scratched my skin. Didn’t hurt much… I mean, hey, I knew I was coming up to some thorny stuff. I felt a little scratchy ouching, nothing very intense at all, and a few moments later my arm feels wet. I’M BLEEDING!!! A Lot!! AYYYYYEEEEEE!!! Well OK, I didn’t shriek… but I was amazed at how thin my epidermis has become. Sheesh!! In the “good old days” I would have had a few light scratch marks and maybe just a trace of bleeding.

Oh… and another time… I was playing with our grandson, and decided, “What fun it would be if I ran backwards in a very vigorous manner!!” I said this silently to my self in just that exact way. Or not. Anyway, the next day, my heel hurt like a Giant Squid had impaled me with a Huge Stabbing Thing while I was Using Capital Letters in a Silly and Ridiculous Rant. But seriously, it hurted me awreddy!! Walking was now a very painful endeavor!! Finally went to a physical therapist after a few days, and they said, “Oh, you have plantar fasciitis.” To which I politely replied, “Do what now??” And they explained further, “Yes, you injured the ligament in your heel. Do these stretching exercises and get some inserts for your shoes. In the meantime, be more careful and quit pretending you are 13 years old with the backward zooming ouch happenings.”

They may not have said it exactly that way… but after a few months… MONTHS… the foot thing finally healed up.

Oh yes, another fond memory!! So there I was again, hoping to show how agile I could be, attempting to do a jump to the top of some perfectly usable concrete stairs without actually walking up the stairs. I placed my hands at the top of the concrete staircase… and I’m thinking, “Sheesh, there are only 3 stairs, I shall jump up like a spry kitty cat for the fun of it.” It never occurred to me that perhaps I might smash my shin bone into the top of the steps on the way up. And yes, I made it to the top but WAAHHH HOTCHAMOOFA OY YOY YOY THAT HURT!!! Bad bloody scrapings and bone bonking of the shin area!!! Boy howdy did I feel intelligent upon “completing” such an athletic yet painful task!!

Took several moons for that one to heal properly.

OK. So the moral of the story is: young ouch is better than old ouch. Well sometimes… I suppose it depends on how big the ouching is. And yes, even though I don’t like it much, I am very aware that my body can’t take the punishment it once endured. Oh, and yeah, I can’t jump higher than a bullet or run faster than a speeding building either.

So I’m much more careful. I’m too young to die.

But as the great Henny Youngman used to say: “Doctor!! It hurts when I do this!! So the doctor says, ‘DON’T DO THAT!!’”

“Get Your Head Out Of Your A_ _ _”

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Don’t be frightened by the title… this is and always shall be a “family site;” meaning no smut or cussing allowed. Believe it or don’t, if the letters were not blanked out; there still would be no cussing… if you look closely you’ll notice that the last word has 4 letters (the A plus 3 blanks) instead of the naughtier 3.

Anyway, ever admire someone even though you’ve never met them? Well, before retirement, each day I’d pass by the Glenpark Animal Hospital here on my way to work. They have one of those signs that allow them to change the letters; and they did so regularly. Sometimes the message was serious; like reminders for folks to treat their furry friends for fleas and heartworms. Other times, it was rather amusing; like:

“STOP ANIMAL TESTING: THEY DON’T PAY ATTENTION AND GET WRONG ANSWERS.”

Or…

“FREE KITTENS AND MIRACLE CURES ARE FALSE ADVERTISING.”

There were many more funny ones, but those two stuck in my mind for some reason. My overall favorite was:

“GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR APPS.”

That one made me laugh bigly; and even though I’ve seen “bigly” in use on the interwebs, it’s not even a real word; but then again neither is “interwebs,” but both of these fake words are fun to say and type, and additionally it gives me an excuse to write a long overdue run-on sentence that rambles along like a chicken with no DVD player; all the while using commas and semicolons in a most confusing but almost grammatically correct manner.

But who cares… let’s get back to the removal of one’s head from their apps. You see, I was a computer flunky for many Earth years; and a techno-flunky before that. I’ve seen a few changes along the way… from state of the art vacuum tube equipment to the amazing solid state (that’s old speak for “no vacuum tubes”) stuff we have today. Have you ever smelled a vacuum tube? Don’t put it in your nose while it’s warm!! OUCH!! Oh yeah… the apps thing. Sorry, I’m easily distracted.

As devices became more portable, of course more and more people started carrying them around. Got to the point where many folks wouldn’t go anywhere without their battery powered stuff. And of course a few more Earth decades passed; ushering more and more radical change as the Earth times became the now times.

Huh??

Yes, have some.

So here we are, in the digital age, where personal privacy seems to be rapidly losing its importance. I say this because as more and more people install more and more apps on their phones; more and more information about their shopping habits, whereabouts, even recreational tendencies is being given away to be scooped up by marketeers and in some cases, fraudsters. Folks everywhere are seen with their noses nearly smudging their smartphone screens; and they are often so involved with their device that they’ve become oblivious to their surroundings.

So even though I laughed bigly at the notion of folks being told to get their heads out of their apps; I admired the Glenpark Animal Hospital for the urging. Might be a good idea for all of us in these “Modern Times” to pay less attention to techno-toys and more attention to.each other. Maybe do something really crazy like leave the phone in the house and go outside for a nice visit with Mother Nature.

Just a suggestion…

Speaking of “Modern Times,”  I really need to watch that movie with my grandsons.  Here’s one of the technological “miracle machines” from that Charlie Chaplin classic…

Office Finger Supply Realignment

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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. Please refer to your Fronkle’s Universal Dictionary for a new and soil proof container for your unwanted dander.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of you very much for being. I know you all are, and I’m truly grateful that this is. I have been for a very long time, and I hope to be much longer than now. In the future, I’ll be there when I’m not here, and then today will of course be yesterday. Then I can look back on all the days I’ve been, and say with great warbly yodels, “Ahh those were the days!!” However, if for some reason I am no longer able to be, please send 23 cents and 17 boxtops to:

Solgarian Sandwich Flatteners

c/o Glippy Zoonerbonk

333 44th Street

Crabfoot, Nymobia X14992

So!! Who the heck put all those nasty sand spurs in my sock drawer?? Anyhow?? I mean, whenever I put my tootsies inside a sock, all I can think of is screaming YOUCH!! Then of course I do the familiar hopping and screaming dance we’ve all groan to endure. In what soon will be a very long run-on sentence I will describe how I intensely remember the happy first time I ever wore flip-flops in our lush but very barren Florida lawn when we were renting a house near MacDill Air Force Base because we didn’t want to live on the base and we didn’t really qualify anyway and unless you spend a crap ton of money on your lawn all you get is this crazy quack grass (which neither quacks nor is it very nice grass) that makes sand spurs and when you walk through a patch with uncovered footsies for the first time because you are a dumb Yankee you get very bad ouchfoot and holy CARP these stupid things are making my toes bleed!!

I mean, it hurted me awreddy!!

Now it’s time for me to remind all of you to please enjoy your life with every breath of air your pet Goose Marble can imbibe. This method of enjoyment merely requires you to be grateful for being, as was mentioned in an earlier section of whatever the heck this writing glob of words is supposed to be. If you are reading this now, you likely live in North America; which means you are among some of the most privileged people in the world. And that’s no joke you see. I for one am very grateful to the Holy Mackerel People Upstairs In The Universal Remarkable, because whoever They are, They have blessed me more than I could have ever imagined.

I even get to eat snacks!!

Very well then. You see, it’s like this: 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. Believe me, they do not mess around. They will comfort you until you barf cotton candy with fairy dust that twinkles in the moonlight. So try giving each of your office supplies a name and tell them jokes often with a very big voice; especially when you’re near lots of people. 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 some feelgood type music things. Here are some of my favorites ( I have many, many favorites…).

AI Yi Yi Yi And Other Whinings

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Hello, and thank you for tuning in to this week’s antenna ranching installment. The news has been removing my capillaries again, and although the events in the news can put me in a bit of an emotional slump, I’ve decided to staple feathers to my cat’s pajamas and anonymously send ice cream to the White House via parcel post. Surely these stress relief methods will result in at least two or perhaps even seventeen new buttons on Mrs. Jingledweeb’s radish basket.

Huh?? Not to worry… just letting off a little steam there. Nonsense helps me keep my blood pressure down.

But seriously folks, I’m a bit worried. I’ve heard reports of AI chatbots competing with humans for companionship. That’s right, people are talking to chatbots as if they were actually alive. Don’t those folks want to enjoy reality? I guess I should not be surprised, humans have been drifting farther and farther away from Nature since the Industrial Revolution.

On the other hand, there are fingers and fingernails. Or at least I hope so. And in addition and also as well, there is the crazy situation going on in Congress. The fact that so many think it’s very OK to terminate health benefits for needy people so rich folks can enjoy tax breaks makes me want to barf on the ground.

What can I do about all this? Well I can vote, but it’s not time yet. I can choose to be annoyed and shriek to friends and family about the woes of the world, but they are often just as sad about all this as I am so that would be unkind. So I do my best to limit my news intake and be as happy as possible.

Even though I’m growing older, I’m still a child in old man’s clothing. I’m usually the one who likes to be silly and help my loved ones (friends and family) laugh. I do my best to stay grateful; and I verbalize that to them. However when I’m down, they are often alarmed. Some of them remind me of things I would normally be saying to them; and believe me, that’s a very good thing for me.  I just need to adjust what’s going on between my ears.

The reminders all basically boil down to these simple guidelines:

A) Don’t sweat the small stuff.

12) EVERYTHING is small stuff.

7) Maintain some boundaries – stay close to those who love you, and be kind to those who are ornery. They probably just find it difficult to be happy..

p4) Don’t take this life stuff too seriously.

*@) Try to smile. It is much more pleasant than frowning; and

Red) There are many in this world who are much less fortunate than me.

So, the last couple days I’ve been reprogramming. Funny how the older I get, the less I know. If I can stay in that frame of mind, I can survive this life stuff by learning new ways to cope. I can let go of the things I simply can’t control. I can raise a nice garden and get my hands nice and dirty! I can spend time with friends! I can take time to laugh! I can even stop using so many exclamation points!

Or not!!

And, I can include a video that is very silly indeed… and laughter is very good medicine.

Dendrolatry And Other Means Of Protest

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They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and as much as I dislike admitting it, I’m getting old. I think. I’m 71. Is that old? Maybe for some of you, but maybe not for others. Anyway I learned a new word recently. I’m counting that as a new trick this old dog has learned. Hey, I’ll take it wherever I can get it!

So my new word is: dendrolatry. It’s pronounced den-DROL-a-tree and it refers to the worship of trees. I don’t hear it used much. Well OK I don’t hear it used at all, but since I’ve considered myself a tree hugger for many decades I can honestly say that I’ve found trees to be very, very special in our universe. I mean, who doesn’t like trees, am I right?

Perhaps it’s a bit of a stretch for some folks, but I’ve considered my tree hugging ways to be a peaceful and subtle form of protest. I love to grow food, and I do my best to grow with Mother Nature’s help. That of course means no chemical anything is added to my soil or sprayed on my plants. The only thing I buy for the garden is seeds; and I often save my own. I like to think of it as my contribution to the reduction of carbon emissions for this poor warming planet.

My professional opinion is that actions can be a form of protest. Besides voting at the ballot box, spending choices can also make a positive impact. For example, I’ve decided to boycott Amazon. Jeff Bezos has way too much money and he treats his employees like garbage. Additionally, he and his billionaire cronies are wielding way too much power over goings on in Washington. So Amazon won’t get my money anymore.

Other ways to do good with my bucks are to donate to the ACLU, Public Broadcasting, independent news sources like The Guardian and The Associated Press; and of course I do my best to help those less fortunate than me by donating to the local rescue mission.

Unless you live under a rock, you’ve probably heard that there will be big “No Kings” protests tomorrow (October 18). Some politicians (and others) are trying to disparage the protesters by saying things like the “No Kings” protests are actually “We Hate America” rallies.

Well as Tricky Dick (Richard Nixon) used to utter, “Let me say this about that.”

When I was much younger we protested against corruption. We protested against racial injustice. We protested against war. We protested against gender inequality. We protested against the poisoning of Mother Nature. Yet here we are again. I’m not foolish enough to suggest that these crimes against humanity and Mother Nature can be rectified quickly. It will take constant effort; and yes, most likely, more protests. But protests are empty actions if we sit on our laurels and watch the yelling from afar. At the very least, all of us must VOTE, both at the ballot box and with our money. And of course, all of us must treat everyone we meet with respect.

Every day.

We can do this. We must do this. Otherwise, we’ll just end up sad, frightened, frustrated and exhausted.

What kind of life would that be??

It’s all been going on too long.

Legalize Shemp (And Other Dead People I Admire)

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So there I was, ordering an extravagant gourmet meal from the Taco Bell in South Haven, Michigan, when the nice young man timidly asked me a question. He had been looking my way for a few minutes, and as I think back on the encounter I realized that the t-shirt I was wearing had him a bit perplexed. Here’s a picture of what I was wearing. Does the guy on the shirt look familiar to any of you? Well if he does, you might be old like me.

Anyway, the gentleman handed me my order and said, “What is Shemp??” I replied, “He’s one of The Three Stooges. He was Moe and Curly’s brother, and when Curly died he took Curly’s place.” The farther I went into the explanation the more apparent it became that this dude was not following. “You ever heard of The Three Stooges?” I queried. “I think so…” he answered, still visibly puzzled. So I finished up with “Go to YouTube and do a search on The Three Stooges. They did a bunch of funny short movies back in the 1930s through the 1950s.” Don’t think he was too fired up about that idea, but one never knows.

I have no idea where I got the t-shirt, but I’ve always considered the play on words and the image to be quite funny. There was a time in my life where dope (hemp) was very important to me, and I dreamed of when it might be legal some day. But I’ve been clean and sober for 36 years now so I don’t partake of such things anymore. And no, I don’t wear that shirt when I go to “those meetings,” but every now and again I put it on for the fun of it. Even though dope is legal in Michigan now, I still find the shirt amusing.

Shemp has been gone for a long time. He passed in 1955 when I was the ripe old age of one. So yes, that makes me 71 now!! Holy Frabblezackens!! During my childhood the TV was on pretty much all the time, so we got to enjoy lots of old movies. Then came the variety shows with my favorite popular music and comedy acts. Many of the performers I watched and loved have gone to the Great Beyond. Guess that means maybe I’m getting old!! Do I have an expiration date?? I just don’t know!! All I do know is that I’ve lost touch with which musicians, actors, etc. the young people are enjoying these days. I mean, we have this guy who goes by Bad Bunny getting ready to play at the Super Bowl, and until very recently I had absolutely no clue who he was. Saw him on Saturday Night Live the other night though, seems like a pretty good guy.

Losing touch ain’t so bad. I stay current enough… for me. Actually I have a pretty big boat load of gratitude for having lived in a time when I could enjoy the old and the new. Some of the music, in particular, doesn’t really rock my socks, if you know what I mean. But there’s lots of new music that is really great, I just have to go looking for it.

OK so Shemp has always been legal, but now he’s dead. Let’s enjoy some of his talent that has been preserved for us on the interwebs.

Isthmus Be My Lucky Day

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Dear Friends,

I’d like to assure all of you that although I often times write very silly things, I do not want anyone to be mentally or emotionally harmed by trying to glean some real meaning from what your eyeballs are smelling. I have waxed nonsensical for much of my life…. Early in life it was a coping mechanism that was very helpful for dealing with a rather challenging home environment. Now that I’ve worked through that stuff, I still enjoy nonsense for the pure fun of it.

With that in mind…

I’m telling you right now, I just have been sick up and fed lately and nobody can help it but me. The space between my ears has been clouded with moldy plum sugar, and my eyes have twitched radically while small animals sing “On Top of Old Smokey.” What I’m trying to say is, events of the world have weighed heavily on my pizza pans, and in my professional opinion, nothing cures a good ham like nonsensical pine with gently simmered nuclear fossil wagons.

As the bugmonsters utter new and exciting versions of the Spar Strangled Banana. Now that lumps of freshly scented soap have been discovered in Pilmus, New Voolia, we can all rest assured that nothing useful is being done to increase the life cycle of the lowly portable tuba wrench. After all, when I have a burrito for lunch and my coworkers run in fear for their noses, well, that’s a very special time indeed. Often, my dog has brought nose pollution to the home. I believe this is a direct result of the Double Barf Burger with cheese I bought for him at the drive up window at 7:37 p.m. We never commend him for producing brown air, but instead we scream and spray 89% Freshener Surprise into the neighboring air molecules.

So my friends, only so much nimble doony can be flung through the doors of coagulation at any given time. I will leave you now with the best philosophical happy time thought I can muster under such extreme duress. WHAT’S FIXIN’ TO FOLLOW THIS IS NOT FICTION OR NONSENSE, BUT A REAL-LIFE EXPERIENCE I HAD WHILE WATCHING TV MANY YARGONS AGO. If I cling to this attitude, I know nothing can get me down, for although I cry and whine at times, I REALLY AM GREATFUL FOR LIFE, THE UNIVERSE, AND EVERYTHING.

OK then, on with the phisopholy: there I was, minding my own business, watching the TV, when the Little Rascals came on and Pappy was assuming the role of school teacher for all the Gang at the Boarding School. He asked many of the class various important questions, which they answered in a most delightful manner. One of the kid’s name was Uh-Huh, and he was asked to use a sentence with the word “isthmus” in it. His answer is the best possible attitude I can carry with me at any given time:

“Isthmus be my lucky day!”

And you know, I’m a pretty fortunate bilge flattener. I need to try to stay positive, and focus on gratitude as my attitude. This and some requests for a little help from my friends will get me through these dark purple animal cracker explosions.

I must now shout that I’m grateful that you are just being who you are. I’m very glad that you are, because if you weren’t, I wouldn’t know you, and holy moly you are important to me. Whoever you are…

Please, always remember that it’s better to be you than for you to be me; and although you can count to it, eight is a word.

Thank you, and good night Melvin!!

One way I might feel better is to make a little bird house in my soul…

The Aheader I Go, The Behinder I Get

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What the HECK is going on here?? I mean, the day before yesterday it was Memorial Day; and now it’s almost October awreddy and I’m just now getting ready to put garlic in the garden!! I’m sorry but time seems to be flying faster than ever, and I really don’t think it’s fair!  I’m thinking there must be some type of time warp going on…

Our daughter will be 48 this year!! And our son is already 43!!  Sheesh!! And our daughter and her awesome husband have two boys who are 16 and 12 years old. They were babies just a few weeks ago!! WHAT IS GOING ON??? Very soon after our daughter and son-in-law had their first kid, I warned them that they will soon notice something very strange: time will vanish much more quickly with each passing day.

Or at least it sure seems to go fast. As a friend of mine once told me, “You know what the frogs say… ‘time’s fun when you’re having flies!!’ “

Well this time zooming stuff is exactly what happening to me these days. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting older; and for that very reason I treasure each day I am on the planet. I kinda like it here! I’m not worried about what comes next; I’m pretty much convinced that cool stuff awaits us in the Great Beyond. But hey, let’s not rush things. I’m here now and loving life. And Holy Cow, I’m a grandparent!! I mean, hey, my wife and I were just dating a couple years ago!!

OK, it’s like this, awright?? I remember vividly when the Beatles first came to America on the Mayflower like 5 or 6 years ago! Or something… Anyway, I really do remember sitting in my grandparents’ apartment in Brooklyn, NY when I was just short of 10 years old. My 8 transistor radio was glued to my ear while the Fab Four disembarked at JFK airport; with all the media of the day interviewing them every step of the way through the crowd of screaming fans. I even jokingly mentioned, “Hey Dad!! The Beatles just landed at JFK! We could go over there to see ‘em!!” “Yeah right!!” he retorted.

I’m not 10 anymore. I’m 71 !! How is this possible?? I remember not to long ago I was lusting to retire at age 66. When you were a kid, do you ever remember wanting to be 66? Well I’ve been there, man!! So glad to be done with this working stuff. Yes, money is smaller now. But being an old fart isn’t so bad… I get to be a grandpa!

One cool thing about being a grandpa is that you get to reflect on all the changes that have happened over the years. Any of you who are old like me understand that life is exactly the same as when we were younger, only completely different. With technology alone, things have changed just a wee bit.

Picture this, kiddies. When I was born in 1954, commercial TV had only been rockin’ for about 13 years. Most stuff on TV was live broadcasts. If you had the TV on too early, you’d see a test pattern. If you had it on too late, you’d see a flag waving in the breeze while the national anthem was playing just prior to the station shutting down for the night. Although TV was on the rise, there were still dramas and comedies being made for and played on the radio. And when you turned on either a radio or a TV, you had to wait a few minutes for them to warm up. That’s because the tubes and their associated circuits had to stabilize. Tubes?? Say what?? Yes, tubes. And even after the radio or TV warmed up you often had to mess with the fine tuning to keep your signals coming in clearly. When you dialed a phone, you literally used a dial on the phone. None of the phones took batteries in those days. No fancy ring tones, just a bell. I know that some of you readers out there can outdo me on the dinosaur technology memories; but you get my drift.

Although I’m retired now, I do remember those “good old days” of work I also remember some “black holes” where a time warp knocked me in the head when I least expected it. For example: I’d scurry to get ready for work in the morning. Most of this zaniness was self inflicted, because I’d sleep till the last minute and then play fireman to get ready for the ride to work. We heat with sticks (we have wood heat), so in the colder months it’s my job to get the fires going. One is downstairs in the old part of the house, one upstairs in the addition. I’d start the furnace downstairs and then grab an armload of wood to feed the wood eater upstairs.

Next, I’d yank open the fridge and grab my lunch; shove it into the fancy Igloo cooler my friend Jeff got me for two bucks at a yard sale.

Pour the coffee into the travel mug, grab the cell phone, and head for the garage at precisely 6:54 a.m.

Situate my lunch on the passenger seat, stick my coffee mug into the cup holder, come around to the driver’s seat and turn on the car.

THE CLOCK NOW SAYS 7:03 A.M. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!! There is NO WAY it takes me 9 minutes to walk from my back door to the garage. And yes, the car’s clock is correct; just like the clock inside. I’m pretty anal about that.

Time warp I tell ya!!

If you are old enough to remember the Rocky Horror Picture Show… I mean really remember, meaning you were old enough to enjoy it when it first came on the scene… well then you and I really are in a time warp. Aren’t we?

Don’t believe any of this time warp nonsense? Well all I can say is: I bet you don’t have kids. Even if you don’t, you’re gonna get old like me some day.

You’ll see…