Author Archives: Ken Hansen

The Cows That Migrated To Mars

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Several billion years ago (or so it seems) it became tradition that when our grandsons visit, I’d ask for their input to write a silly story for “Happy Friday!!!” One day I asked Ollie, “What should I write about tonight?” “The cows who migrated to Mars,” he replied. So here’s what came out of my fingers to the keyboard:

Once upon ago, there were two cows named Ursula and Henry. Well OK, Henry was actually a bull, but once you get done reading this story you’ll probably think it was just a bunch of bull anyway. Anyway, Ursula and Henry grew tired of farm life and decided to seek adventure in distant lands. This all started one night when they were in the barn, talking about their day.

“Yep, I ate a few bushels of grass today,” Henry said. “Had some clover in it… not too bad I guess.”

Ursula chimed in, “Well I was totally annoyed when I was grazing in the northeast corner. I took a big bite from a yummy patch of rye grass and got mobbed by grasshoppers!! They just hopped right into my mouth!! I swallowed 8 of them before I could say ‘ptooey!!’ “

Henry tried to comfort Ursula. “Well, I wanna take you on a vacation so both of us can get a little change of scenery,” he said. “Sounds good!!” Ursula replied. “But let’s go somewhere different for a change. I’m tired of just going to the lower 40 acres of the farm.” Henry looked outside the barn window at a glowing heavenly object. “You see that really bright star?” he asked Ursula. “That’s not a star at all,” he continued. “That’s Mars. Let’s go to Mars!!” Ursula said, “and just how do you propose we get there??” Henry answered, “I’ll build a transporter!! I’ve seen them on TV… you just push some buttons and you disappear… then reappear somewhere else!!”

Ursula was skeptical, to say the least. But then she remembered when Henry made those cool water balloons using nothing but 5 pounds of bubble gum and some baking powder. She decided that since Henry was her boyfriend, she’d support him no matter what; and she gave him that reassuring wink and a nuzzle and off he went into his workshop behind the barn.

For several nights, after long days in the pasture, Henry could be heard working diligently. Clanging, grinding, hammering, sawing… even some Public Radio shows being played in the background. Then one night there was a loud CLAP!! while the lights all went dim; followed instantly with a gleeful shout from Henry. “Holy COW!! It works!!” Ursula heard his yell and shouted back, “hey buddy, watch your language!!” Henry wasn’t even embarrassed; but came to get Ursula for a demonstration.

“Are you sure about this??” Ursula pleaded. “Don’t worry,” Henry urged. “Just step on that little platform and I’ll join you when I get the coordinates programmed into the computer.” Ursula reluctantly complied, and watched intently as Henry twirled knobs and tapped the keyboards. Then he said, “OK!!” and scampered onto the platform where Ursula was waiting. Suddenly, their bodies began to vaporize and vanished from sight.

Within a few milliseconds, Ursula and Henry were standing in the middle of a small town they had never seen before. Both had heard there was life on Mars, but neither of them expected things to look very similar to their own home town. There was a Mars National Bank, and even a flying saucer parked near the road!! “Wow, Henry!! This is way cool!! Who would have imagined that life on Mars was so much like that on Earth??!!” Ursula bellowed (hey, she is a cow, after all). “I know, right??” said Henry. “Hey!!” he continued, “that Martian looks a lot like a human!! Let’s go ask him what part of Mars this is!!”

“Excuse me,” Henry blurted, “can you tell us what part of Mars this is??”

The human “Martian” answered, “Ummm OK… a talking bull!! Well sonny, you’re in Mars, Pennsylvania.” Henry didn’t know what to say. He gave Ursula a rather embarrassed look, then turned back to the human “Martian” and could only muster one word.

“Oh.”

Actually, their journey was exactly like the one Gumby enjoyed, only completely different.

My New Years Revolutions for 2026

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Greetings, fellow Song Yodelers,

Here’s wishing you the Happiest Merry of all Years, with dotted Ts and crossed eyes following all of your newly configured radial sandwich flavors.  It is very and ultra important that we greet this new year with pledges of doing remarkable things.  As you may already know, pledges are words that express an intent to do something.  Politicians know the value of a pledge.  They use them to get elected and, once in office, they do what they bloody well want.  But when you come right down to it, when people make promises about this or that at the beginning of a brand new year, they have a lot in common with politicians.  Many people make pledges, but how many fulfill them?? 

This I am unable to know.

2025 brought great weeping and gnashing of teeth for many of us. Although many thought they were voting for positive change, the changes that have been made are, in my professional opinion, too often a bit less than positive. There do seem to be some cracks forming in the walls of corruption, but all too often the same old stories persist:

1) The rich get richer, the poor become more numerous, and the working class gets to pay for all of it; and

29) War is still not the answer, even though all too many people cling to the notion that it can be “morally justified.” I know, I know… “there’s so much evil in the world;” and “we have the right to defend ourselves…” Yada yada yada. My professional opinion: The use of weapons produces a very immediate (albeit tragic) result. However, there will NEVER be lasting peace until we are ready to treat each other with respect; communicate; and persistently work together to address the roots of the issues.

Oh but hey, that stuff takes way too long. Let’s just go bomb somebody.

Oy yoy yoy.

“Tax the rich, feed the poor, till there are no rich no more…”

These kinds of ickyness just give me the warm fuzzy noodle constipation that every mom loves.  But I know that it’s always easier to find fault with others than to look inward, so I thought I’d better lay out a plan for my own self improvement.  Therefore, I beg of each of you to elect me as your next Filibuster Yakkity Yak Doo Dah Day for 2026.  My plan for self bereavement lies below.

Please be not aware that I have regurgitated the following Noo Yeer’s Revolutions:

1)   To remind myself that I need to remember those things which I can’t seem to recall.  

          What was that again?  What was I thinking about…??

R)  To lose weight, gain it back, lose it again, and lose some more until my nostrils can be used for sidewalk painting without fear of changing lanes abruptly.  

          Please pass the pepperoni flakes and the coagulated skim milk.

24) To change lanes abruptly so all weight loss can be vehemently avoided.  

          Watch out for that tree!! It has a scale near it!!

++) To boldly go where no earthworm has ever dined before.  

          Ummm… you gonna eat that compost??

3X) To be nice to all people whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.  

          Excuse me sire, your toupee is on fire.  May I stomp it out for you?

T5) To dress in all recyclable clothing, in order to lighten the load on my laundry licking machine.  

          I especially favor the milk jug socks and the recycled string bikini underwear.

Z44) To unite all small countries in a global effort to stop Homer Simpson from eating my cake.

          Alright boys, this is it… you clunk him on the cake eater and I’ll spray him with a completely different shade of yellow.

And finally:

9)  To sing loudly (or sometimes softly, even silently) about how wonderful it is to be alive, ever reminding myself that life really is a joy and that complaining is tantamount to feeding dogfood to caterpillars.  In other words, no matter how badly I think I have it, I am really a wealthy person.  I have received many gifts from the Creator.  As Alistair Sim said in my favorite Christmas movie (Scrooge)  “I don’t deserve to be so happy, but I can’t help it.”  

I suspect that if you are reading this, you are wealthy also.  You don’t think so??  OK smartypants, lemme ask you these:  Do you have a car?  Do you have enough to eat?  Do any of your clothes fit nicely? Do you have friends?  A warm, safe place to sleep?  

If you answered yes to any of those, you are wealthy.  OK??

 So I hereby beseech all of you to have a most Wonderful New Year of this 2026 Universe, and that you discover New Millipedes under every log you roll.  Love your brethren and your cistern.  Love your father, your mother, and your Mother (Earth).  And please, please share what you can with those less fortunate than you are.

And always remember to be kind to yourself and other living things.

Peace, Love, and Hugs,

Kenny

“And now,” as Mr. Cleese used to say, “for something completely different.”

I Love You And I’m Glad You Don’t Stink

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Due to my advanced age I’m able to vividly remember when Dionne Warwick sang a most wonderful song called “What The World Needs Now.” The lyrics are simple but beautiful and are pretty much timeless:

“What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No, not just for some but for everyone…”

Ain’t that the truth!!

OK it’s like this you see: those who know me are very aware that the words “I Love You” come out of my mouth pretty regularly; and I always mean it very sincerely. I mean, I don’t just blurt that out to anyone and everyone, but I’m grateful to say that I have several close friends, blood relatives, and extended family (of choice) members whom I love unconditionally… very, very much. I’m also blessed with several loved ones who understand that I have a goofy sense of humor. One example: several times I’ve told select loved ones, “I love you, and I’m glad you don’t stink.” This is often met with the reply, “Well I do bathe somewhat regularly.”

It is in this spirit that I would now at this very moment like to compose a song that incorporates these words of friendship –

I love you and I’m so very glad you don’t stink
Your bathing is good whether bathtub or sink
Good hygiene is helpful for friendships you know
When I’m near you my nostrils don’t hurt from B.O.

So Thank You

This of course is sung to the tune of “I Love You And I’m Glad You Don’t Stink.”

On the other hand, I not only have five fingers but I have times when someone seems very intent on testing my tolerance level. At least, their behavior disgusts me greatly and I would like for them to be banished to Monster Island with no snacks or drinks. However, because of many life lessons and changes of heart, I’m come to realize that everyone deserves to be loved. The Gods Of The Universe have told all of this in many different ways. One of the more recent lessons came in the form of a person much younger than me.

I’ve often repeated an anonymous quote that describes my favorite concept of God:

“Nature is God’s reflection.”

Oh boy howdy I like that a lot!! I’ve come to believe that there is something to which I refer as God, but I have no idea what it means. I’m pretty sure it’s likely not the old man with the long white beard; but that’s just my professional opinion. No, what it means to me is that I can find God in the critters that swim in a drop of water, or in trees, birds, oceans, streams, you know… all that Mother Nature stuff. So I was again repeating the “reflection” quote to a group of friends and afterward this younger guy comes up to me and says, “So Ken, that means that all of us are part of that reflection, right?” My reply was, “Oh wow!!”

He was right you know.

Long story longer, now I have to remember that even those whom I consider to be horrible people are part of the Creation and they therefore need to be loved. So I can honestly say that I do my best to love them. Like them?? No. They are not invited for dinner. But when they get on my nerves I do my best to step back and pray for them to be happy and healthy all the day long.

Now here comes that other hand with the five fingers… I do love to play and send silly imaginary messages to those whom I’m not liking so much. Some of them are in the news… and I’ll leave it at that. But I relieve stress with silliness. So here is a song for the stinker heads of the world.

Leave me alone or I’ll bite you. You don’t talk to me like that!!
Who do you think you’re talking to? Do you keep poop in your hat??
I’m certain your eyebrows have dandruff, your ears are full of cheese.
If I was just two feet shorter, I’d bite the both of your knees.

So there.

And of course, that song would be sung to the tune of “Leave Me Alone Or I’ll Bite You.”

OK, so believe it or don’t I trust that whoever those God people are know better than me so I’ll keep on sending love to all those tolerance testers, whoever and wherever they are. What the world really does need now is Love Sweet Love, and I’ll do my darndest to spread as much Love as I can.

But some folks just won’t be invited for dinner, ya know?

Perhaps I could invite the tolerance testers for something like this:

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.