Sniff The Dog Wisely

Warning:  the following installment of Frappy Hiday contains large amounts of nonsense and intestinal worms.  Do not read any further if you are prone to sleeping with rubber bands in your cereal or have an allergic reaction to sense that makes no things. 

What the heck kind of title is that?  Anyhow???   Is this going to be one of those stupid dog butt sniffing stories?? Come to think of it, I’m not sure I know any dog butt sniffing stories.  I could maybe make one up, but there’s really nothing you can buy with three nickels anymore.  So why would I sniff the butt’s dog?  My friend Musky da sniffed a butt’s dog recently, and he seemed to be very intent with this activity.  Does this mean that sniff dogging is similar to wise wondering?

No, this is an adventure in stress relief.  You see, I’m being a bit indulgent here… and I’m going to just crack open a jar of petroleum jelly and a box of crackers, and make a nice snack that not only sticks to your ribs but lubes the bones and coats the skin with a nice shiny paragraph on Al Gore and his TV Dinners.  Then I’ll wash it all down with a nice tall glass of dry ice.   Work has presented numerous “challenges” of late, ok?  I placed “challenges” in “quotes” because there are some “people” who are getting on my “nerves” and I would love to “choke” them but I don’t want to go to “jail” just because the “kakaheads” are making me “crazy.”  You “know” what I “mean??”

Then there’s the “guy at work” who seems bell lent for heather to “drive me up a tree” and I don’t even have a seat belt for that tree or anything.  No air bags neither.  No smell phone to stick in my ear so I can drive like a zombie and crash into a giant salami.  I mean hey, if someone is determined to “tree me up a drive,” the very least that person could do is provide air conditioning and a hybrid engine that gets well over 93 miles to a gallon of ice cream.

Am I right or am I wrong??

Of course I am!!

I’m keenly aware that the only “solution” to letting someone “up me tree a drive” is to tune out their bullroni and strongly suggest that nasal cheese insertion be performed.  The instructions would come in a format very much like this:

“Hey you with the face!  For why you are asking for my resistance with these things you require yesterday or the day before, but you’ve jumped into this ‘project’ with no planning ahead or even knowing what the do you are hecking??  Are you in the want of pickled toilet paper?  I am now urging you vehemently to cram large cheese globs in your nose to enhance your breathing!!  And while you’re at it, why don’t you place your tongue in that electrical box over yonder??  That box needs testing, and you’ve just the tongue to do it!”

This, I am sure, is the only true way to diplomatically tell  flame-headed wombats just how wonderful you feel about  their actions.

Don’t you agree??

Of course I do!

I was also very compressed at the driving ability of one total bark-eating numbskull just yesterday.  There I was, careening down the boulevard in my 2014 racing Toyota Sienna, and going the legal speed limit or even less, and some tonk-mookler decided to pass me with less than 2 millimeters clearance between his bumper and my front fender with no regard for the safety of any insects or other humans.  I mean, this tampon-brain forced me into the evasive “holy cow” maneuver.  Then of course he (or she??) proceeded to cut off numerous other innocent sidebanders while zipping in and out of traffic.   Now THAT’S intelligence, don’t ya think?  Seedless to nay, I had a few opinions which instantly arose from my brain and out of my mouth as I flailed the steering wheel about while I tried to prevent the kersmooshing of metal objects and finely crafted petrochemicals.

Now, believe me, I understand that people don’t intentionally do things TO me, they just DO THINGS.  But sometimes I just let it get to me and then I go find a bug and try to teach it to sing karaoke.  I try to be tolerant of people who are less than wonderful…   I think I’m getting better at being nice these days; but while my eyes and mouth are being pleasantly neutral, my mind is screaming at the top of its lungs:

“HOLY MACKEREL, WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO BREATHE ON THIS PLANET??  I’M BECOMING CONVINCED THAT YOU NEED TO EAT BARK AND POOP AT THE MOON!!”

This is not very kind, so I’m very grateful that I don’t often react with nastiness to those type of folks.  Anymore.  Used to be I would actually SAY  the things that my mouth wanted to spit, but then I’d have to apologize and offer expensive candy or something.  Maybe that’s part of getting old enough to remember when the Beatles came over on the Mayflower, I dunno.  But I DO know that stress is a very small pair of pajamas that seek dogfood in a jar of jellybeans.  So the next time I get angry, please remind me that there really is a bus that has one way tickets to Indianapolis.  I don’t really want to go there, but if I never run away again it will be the next time.

I had an ice cream cone today.  That was helpful. And in spite of the intense heat, most of this tasty treat went into my mouth.

Perhaps I need a new job. You know, where the stress is zero minus 173 and you get paid for loafing. Bud Abbott and Lou Costello did a nice bit about just that very subject…

The Miracle of Healing: Old Ouch vs. Young Ouch

This past year I turned 64, 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, mowing the lawn, when I barely brushed past a wild rose bush; and it scratched my skin. Didn’t hurt much, I mean I knew I was coming up to some thorny stuff. Felt a little scratchy ouching, nothing very intense at all, and a few moments later my arm feels wet. I’M BLEEDING!!! 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!! 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??” 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 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.

So there I was again, wrapping up a skid full of printers at work, going around and around and around and around (and I didn’t barf from being dizzy) with the shrink wrap roll thing, and on one of the around and arounds, I clunked the 1-inch thick glass table top with my shin bone; and I said many bad words, and began to walk in a limpy way, and thankfully not only did I have the inclination to describe this just now in a very long run-on sentence but I also had some ice in the refrigerator in my work cave (an old server room) so I could elevate my leg and put ice on it and Google what I did (and HOLY COW this can take weeks to heal???); and I’m SO GLAD I put ice on it right away because it helped a WHOLE LOT; but such an ouchy booboo can indeed take weeks to heal and the injury and swelling migrate downward toward your ankles more aspirin please OH GOD I’m gonna DIE from a blood clot, no I’m eating aspirin 2 or 3 times a day, breathe… breathe… and sheesh I think this may be the longest sentence EVER so I’ll stop now.

And it’s finally going back to normal after like 3 weeks.

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.

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_ _ _”

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 not, 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, on my way to work each day I pass by the Glenpark Animal Hospital here in Beautiful Muskegon Michigan. They have one of those signs that allow them to change the letters; and they do so regularly. Sometimes the message is serious; like reminders for folks to treat their furry friends for fleas and heartworms. Other times, it’s 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 current favorite (which happens to be their current message) is:

“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’ve been 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. I’m getting there…

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 is 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 admire 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.

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…

Zooming In The Giant Squishmobile

Well, you can sure tell summer’s coming.  Why?  Simple:  dead bodies everywhere!!  Raccoons, possums, woodchucks, birds, squirrels, even kitties and doggies.  The warm weather has lots of critters in mating mode, and they are moving about like they own the place or something.  Well, ok, they do own the place.  Or at least they used to...  

To show our appreciation for all of the Creator’s flora and fauna, humans have chopped up their habitat and shot roads through the parcels.  Then to add to their excitement, we drive through these zoomophone lanes with big metal honkers at 70 mph or more.  Most animals aren’t quite equipped to get across the road when a four wheeled zipmobile is coming at them out of nowhere.  So, we see lots of babies “sleeping” on various parts of the road.  Makes me sad for them… I try hard to slow down when I see animals near the roadway.  Sure, I have been guilty of assassinating some of those poor babies with my own four wheeled killing machine.  When I’ve been unfortunate enough to kill one of Mother Nature’s babies I have an immediate reaction:  being the big, strong man that I am, I cry like a baby and ask the Great Spirit for forgiveness.

Ok, so now it’s out.  I’m a big wuss.  I’m the idiot who stops on the expressway because I see a turtle trying to make its way across.  I turn on my flashers, pull off to the side, and dodge cars to whisk the little booger off the road and out of harm’s way.  Then I carry it about 50 yards from the road and stomp my feet until it lumbers off in the opposite direction of the traffic lanes.   My furry and feathered friends get the horn.  Most animals will run from the horn if you use it in time.   By “in time,” I mean at least 50 feet before you get to the animal.  Otherwise, if you honk when you’re right next to them, they’ll often freak out and run erratically.  Then you end up hitting them anyhow.  I’ll also pump my brakes if there are any cars behind me, hoping that other motorists will follow my lead and give the critter the right of way.

On the other hand, you have dead bugs.  Sometimes literally on the “other hand”… there’s nothing more rewarding than sticking your mitt out the car window on a warm day and having a bug go kersplat in your hand while you’re playing airplane.  Oh and by the way, no, I don’t swerve to avoid bugs.  Especially not on the expressway… I may be crazy but I ain’t no fool.  If I have time (which means at lower speeds), I try to miss beneficial insects.  You know, bees, dragonflies, butterflies, and of course wasps.  But even now, with the weather still fairly cool, you can tell that my windshield has already sent quite a few insects to Bug Heaven.  As I mentioned earlier, I’m a big wussy boy, and I get sad when I see beneficial insects bite the dust because of my Toyota Sienna Racing Van.

But hey, humans are critters too, and the Great Spirit built us just like all the other critters.  So, rather than try to dodge insects on the freeway and put the lives of other drivers in danger, I take small comfort in the fact that I may be feeding some birds with my car.  At least indirectly.  You see, one of the miracles of Creation is that living things adapt, sometimes in strange ways.  Believe it or don’t, there are birds who have actually learned how to pick up insect road kill for a quick meal.  I first noticed starlings doing this several years ago.  Red winged blackbirds, who travel with starlings during migration, have also learned this trick.  And they must be sharp cookies, because I have yet to see a squished starling or blackbird on the road.

I guess all is not completely lost when mammals, birds, and even turtles are executed by cars.  This much I’ve learned through the existence of things like “The Road Kill Cookbook,” which is a humorous rendition about an actual activity in the more rural areas of the country.  Yes, there really are people who eat road kill.  And why not?  We have farmers raise hordes of animals every year and they are killed for our consumption.  Can’t get much better at recycling than eating road kill.  Not that I’m eager to do it mind you.  But if it’s freshly killed, a road kill turkey, for example, would be lots healthier food than one you buy from the store.    No artificial anything.

I’ll stick to the store-bought animal flesh, thank you very much.  I was a hunter years ago, and am not really interested in cleaning any more dead critters. I’ll just try to be wary and keep my roadkill count to a minimum.

Speaking of roadkill, this week’s cartoon has absolutely nothing to do with it.  But it’s fun…

Time’s Fun…

Well girls and boys, tomorrow marks another anniversary for me and my Beautiful Girlfriend. We still celebrate May 19th of every year; because it’s the Anniversary Of Our First Official Date. The acronym for that would be AOOFOD; which sounds really dumb so please disregard that idea. Maybe I should change the acronym to DOOOFA: Date Of Our Official First Anniversary? How about OFOAOD: Our First Official Anniversary Of Dating?

Never mind.

Anyway, on May 19, 1972, my Beautiful Girlfriend and I officially became a couple. For those who don’t know the story, when we starting having mutually sparkling eyeballs, we both had long distance relationships. She wrote a “Dear John” letter to her boyfriend who was in the Navy (his real name was Richard). I drove my 1970 Honda CB175 to the local resort where my soon-to-be-former sweetie from Chicago was due to visit for vacation.

So here we are now, and after a year, my Amazing Honey Pie let me marry her!! That was very nice indeed. We reflect on our blessings (and to a much lesser extent, our challenges) during both anniversaries every year. The other day, My Baby sighed and said, “where did all the time go??” A former boss of mine handed out an answer for just such a question many moons ago, and I embraced it. So when My Lovely Lady asked where all the time went, I quipped, “times fun when you’re having flies!!”

That’s what frogs say, or so I’m told.

After my smart aleck remark, we both started reminiscing aloud. We’ve been blessed beyond belief, really. I consider myself a very wealthy man. Please don’t confuse my concept of wealth with affluence; although money is very helpful at times. No, I’m referring to wealth in the form of a very nice life that’s filled with joy (or at least contentment) 99.99% of the time. Of course our relationship had some rocky times. I don’t know that it’s possible to intimately spend most of your life with someone without some degree of turbulence. But we worked through those times; and came out better than ever on the other side.

So where did all the time go? Well, let’s see… there was courtship, marriage, having fun, growing up, raising children, growing up, having more fun, marriage counseling, growing up some more; being blessed with grandchildren, and having more fun. Oh, and stuff like work and chores were sprinkled in there… oh and sleeping… eating… bathing… going to the bathroom… Anyway, when I first met My Beautiful Girlfriend Who Let Me Marry Her (MBGWLMMH), she’d say, “life is laughing and crying, shagging and dying.”

Well OK, she may have used a much stronger term than shagging…

There’s a lot of truth to that statement! I’m hoping to learn from the past and avoid projecting what the future will bring. Sometimes I can actually do that!! All I know is, rather than sigh about how quickly life has rolled along, I’m trying to treasure each moment of each day. And each day with The Most Beautiful Woman In The Universe is a very fine day indeed.

And now for the mooshy stuff…
 

Every Day Is Mothers Day

With Mothers Day on the horizon, I thought it important to yell a BIG GIANT THANK YOU to all the mothers in the universe. After all, without Mom, none of us would be where we are today. Actually, without Mom, none of us would be here at all!!

We have lots of “holidays” on the calendar that, in my professional opinion, should not be holidays at all. Sweetest Day? Ummm… no. Conversely, we have holidays like Earth Day, Mothers Day, and Fathers Day that exemplify principles we should embrace all year long. Nothing wrong with making a bigger fuss once a year, mind you. But let’s put the focus on this Sunday, which of course is Mothers Day. Considering the sacrifices our mothers made to raise us all the very best way they could; don’t you think Moms deserve to be special all year long?

God knows I could have done a better job appreciating Mom when I was a kid. Too soon old and too late smart seems to be bonking around inside my head bone a bit regularly these days. Hindsight is 20/20 though, as they say. I truly believe in my heart that every Mom does the very best they can; which of course is governed by their awareness. All Moms are human; and there’s no instruction manual. We all just need to take the good that Mom gave us and let it shine whenever we get the chance.

So for this week’s Happy Friday, I’m just going to be short and to the point:

Dear Mom,

Thank you for everything.

I love you with all my heart,

Me.

My Mom is in Heaven, but I send her loving prayers and I know in my heart they are heard. And to all of you other Moms out there, thanks to all of you also. You’ve blessed me with wonderful friends and loved ones who could never have been here without your help.

Take care, dear Moms, and Happy Mothers Day.

A lot of men are raising kids these days, but Gabby seemed to have a pretty tough time…

Black And White Stress Relief

I’m not afraid admit it: I’m an antique. When we were kids, Mom would literally tell us “go watch television” to get us out of her hair. Mind you this was mostly when it was too crummy to go outside; but we grew up spending some time in front of the TV.

When family life got stressful, I found myself clinging to the relief provided by good old black and white TV programs and movies. I mostly enjoyed black and white programs because, well, that’s all we had at our house until well into the ‘70s.

Abbott and Costello, The Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy, the Marx Brothers, oh and of course there was Our Gang, the Bowery Boys, Bug Bunny, Felix the Cat, Betty Boop…

I could go on for a very long time.

I count myself as one a privileged generation who were blessed to be wowed by the old time greats, yet also blessed by newer talents of today.

But when life gets really icky, I find myself reaching for the Three Stooges or Marx Brothers DVDs. Or maybe Monty Python. OK, Monty Python episodes were not filmed in glorious black and white, but you get the idea.

So there I was, 10,000 feet in the air, no plane, no parachute… oh wait… different story.

So there I was, working my hiney off, being grumpy, not being very grateful. Silly me, a spoiled American, being grumpy because I am working harder than ever. Many, MANY people in this world would be very happy to have the high-class problems I have. However, I’m human and therefore I get grumpy from time to time.

For me, one of the best remedies for stress is laughter.

Therefore, I’m going to treat you to one of my favorite black and white stress relievers.

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

OK… now to make with the video!

A Grandsons’ “Happy Friday!!!”

This week’s “Happy Friday!!!” is being tailored to the wishes of our grandsons. We went to pick them up for a weekend visit at our house, and on the way home I asked, “what should I write about this week?”

Ollie answered, “how about a cat that lives inside a vacuum cleaner?” Gabe quickly added, “yeah and he’s wearing a hat that got sucked in!!” Wasn’t really sure how I would approach this challenge, considering that it’s usually late outside when I start writing. That’s because of a tradition that began many moons ago: we watch very old cartoons until it’s very late. After a big day of chores and getting them settled into bed after several cartoons; my creative energy begins to dwindle.

Fortunately, though, they both got me off the hook. While lying in bed, Ollie said, “I changed my mind. I’d like a different story.” “OK,” I replied, “how about something like The Adventures Of Marble Face Moe?” “Yes!” Ollie returned; at which point Gabe quickly chimed in, “yes, and The Adventures Of Nonsense!!”

So here we go:

The Adventures Of Marble Face Moe And Other Adventures In Nonsense

by Ken Hansen

Marble Face Moe was often teased by the neighborhood kids. That’s because when he was very young, marbles got stuck to his face and wouldn’t come off. All the neighborhood kids thought that he looked pretty weird. Marble Face Moe’s appearance kind of scared them really; so they didn’t know how to react except to tease poor Moe.

It all started when Moe began collecting marbles. Many marbles. Many, MANY marbles. Moe collected so many marbles that he had to keep them in a big wash tub. He really liked looking at all his marbles, and was always trying to figure out how to get the best view. Moe thought maybe if he stuck his whole face inside the big pile of marbles, they would look really cool when seen up close. He began to push his face into the marbles when his mother walked by and noticed him.

“Moe, I think you have your face too close to all those marbles!!” she warned. “Be careful, you never know what can happen!! Back away a little bit please!!” “Ok Mom,” Moe replied. Then he waited for her to leave and rammed his face deep into the pile of marbles. Unfortunately, things didn’t go the way Moe was hoping. Not only did he find the marbles very uncomfortable on his eyes (because they were so close), but many of the marbles stuck to his skin. He tried to brush them off but that didn’t work.

Moe got pretty scared, so he ran to his Mom and she got pretty scared too. She tried to calm Moe down with her loving voice, all the while she was wondering how in the world all these marbles got stuck in Moe’s skin. Next, of course, she was thinking really hard about how to get them off. She tried just brushing them off with her hands; and of course just as Moe told her, that didn’t work. Then she tried smearing various household things on Moe’s face, hoping to wash the marbles off somehow. First, she tried soap and water. No luck. Then she tried butter, mayonnaise, peach jelly, cat food, and even cheese sticks. Finally she gave up and took Moe to the face doctor.

Once they got to Dr. Skinslimer’s office, he began to squint at the sight of Moe’s predicament. “Ah yes, the old marble face thing. You didn’t listen to your Mom, did you young man??” “No, sir,” Moe said sheepishly. “Well, I hate to tell both of you this, but those marbles are there to stay… at least for now. You’ll have to wait till you grow out of them.” “Oh no, Doctor!!” gasped Moe’s Mom. “How long will that take?” Doctor Skinslimer answered, “could be a week or two, could be a few months. Think of it as a bad case of pimples.”

Moe and his Mom hung their heads with sadness and left the doctor’s office. Soon after they got home, (note to the reader: this is where the Other Adventures In Nonsense begins) Moe tried to capture some eels with his pickle pencils. Both Moe and his Mom found out that telephones often like a gooey snack during TV crunching time. Once both onions were allowed outside to hunt for seagull boogers, the only crayons that learned how to shave were singing loudly during The Great Purple Goat Festival.

Ponk, ponk, ponk went the tiny truck wagons as they flew backwards during the cranberry storms. Evil weevils stole all the oatmeal, but then they figured out that if you try to paint your eyebrows with dark blue cupcake juice, all of your friends will laugh at the whipped cream tire tracks that never decorated the sidewalks. Actually, if you put cheese inside a computer screen, not only will you get enough paper to fry bananas, but you will also have itchy elbows for the rest of the movie.

Yes, yes, YES!!! I have tried sniffing toasted bookshelves and I still am not hungry for them today!!! Please, if you want to make me a nice meal, just get the bottle of frozen washing machine parts and shake it loudly. During the noise, the recipe for my favorite dish, Macaroni and Sneeze, will appear on the kitchen wall next to where all those ants have been making vacation cabins. Lucy likes licking licorice lamps lately. Steven says sauerkraut smells snergelly; so Santa sneaks sardines southward! Many more Martians mumble miggly-boo and foompa-dissnockey.

That is the way of my people.

So as you can see, more hammers are found in the ocean than any other pile of dried fly swatters. Do you want to taste this pair of headphones? Are you going to explode if you don’t ever chew bacon again? Will cars, trucks, trains and airplanes ever wear funny hats and go to parties together? Listen… do you smell anything? The answer to all these questions is, of course: tree shoes.

Thank you and please don’t forget to enjoy your cabbage bath. The ducks are waiting…

OK… here’s an example of the cartoons we enjoy until it’s too late to wash the frogs:

Car Thieves Are Not My Friends

If you’ve been reading this blog at all, perhaps you’ve noticed that I rarely mention politics. Believe me, I have plenty to say about the woes of the world; but my professional opinion is that if a person reads something like “Happy Friday!!!” they might appreciate a break from all the geopolitical falderol. Well tonight I’m gonna get on my soapbox a bit and complain about theft. I know that’s not political (well not in this case), but I’ve been feeling a smidgen victimized and I’m a gonna bark a little.

So there we were, my Beautiful Girlfriend and me, minding our own business on the way back from a funeral visitation when we heard this dreadful ker-whump!! coming from under the car hood; which was accompanied by a sudden loss of power and then the engine was running at way too many RPM but the car was slowing down so of course I hit the EJECT button and both of us were hurled out of the top of the car but luckily our parachutes got snarled in some pine trees so we were able to watch reruns of Gilligan’s Island on someone’s widescreen TV because they had their curtains open and “wow Honey look at how big their picture window is!! Even from up here in the top of the pine tree we can smell the Farmers Insurance commercials!!” and of course nothing after the words “ I hit the EJECT button” was real but it made for a pretty nice run-on sentence which I shall terminate… NOW.

Anyway… the nasty ker-whump!! was an audible warning that the end was very near for the transmission of our brand new, 2001 Chrysler Town and Country racing van. Thinking maybe our trusted service people on the other side of town could help, I drove the ailing minivan over there and the nice man shook his head and said, “nope… you need a tranny shop.” Gack. So I started to go to the closest one but then I remembered our other trusted service people right near our house. Drove over there and the nice man said, “we’re running about a week and a half behind.”

Gack.

OK… back to the other side of town we go but uh oh… not much reverse. Not much forward neither. Got it to limp to our house and was hoping to back it into the driveway. Nope. Reverse go bye-bye. OK… let’s see if I can get it up to the intersection and do a U-turn; come back and park. After several startings and stoppings, that worked. By that time I believe I successfully converted what was once an automatic transmission into a metal box filled with tranny fluid and metal shavings. Borrowed my Beautiful Honey Pie’s car to go to work, stopped at the tranny shop on the way home and asked if it was OK to have the beast towed over to his place after hours. “Sure,” he said, “we can have it for you in 3 or 4 days.” “Great,” I replied, “any guess on how much?” “Oh… around $2200, maybe a bit more.”

Gack.

I figured, hey, we want the car to work… engine works fine, body a tiny bit rusty but pretty good… pretty much everything works; so I signed on the dotted line. Silly me, after I heard all this nice news, I thought maybe I’d check the interwebs for how much this old animal was worth. Stopped at good ol’ Kelley’s Blue Book… what??? $1200 to $2800??? What the heck did I do??? Oy yoy yoy!! It’s highway robbery I tell ya!! This car is stealing from me!!! I must now run outside to eat bark and poop at the moon!!

OK, maybe I won’t go barking at moon poop.

So then I started looking around the interwebs again, this time for a nice, used, certified Toyota Sienna. No more Chryslers for this kid, thank you very much. Sure, they’re affordable… but stuff goes wrong that really shouldn’t. Never had a transmission go bad on a Toyota. I know others have; but from what I’ve learned over the years it’s rare. Chryslers, on the other hand, seem to have a reputation of eating at least one transmission during their life span. But now I’m learning a different form of highway robbery: almost new car prices.

Gack!!!

Looks like $25,000 or so will get me a nice used minivan with low enough miles to still be under warranty. $25,000!!! We bought a house with 5 acres of land for $36,900!!! Well OK, that was a couple of weeks ago in 1982. But still…!!!

Just gotta face the facts. Unless some rich benefactor surprises me with the gift of an antique Maserati or something; cars are always gonna take my money. They are thieves.

And car thieves are not my friends.

I’m unreasonably certain that my car hunt will go exactly like this:

 

Tips For Travel

Well, Spring Break has already broken, but the weather here in Beautiful West Michigan is not very Springy; and some folks are still running away screaming for warmer skin zones that are far away from here; so that of course means they’ll likely need input from me, the person, who offers the following tips on how to travel in this short but long (by Kakahead standards) run-on sentence I hereby bestow upon you all with great instability.

Therefore, I strongly urge every living thing to embrace the following travel tips with great enthusiasm:

1 – Please, for the 328th time, please do NOT tape paperclips to your fingernails just before passing through airport security. This causes very loud brooping alarms and the security people will wiggle their eyebrows at you for at least 13 milliseconds.

R – Always ensure you keep your optical nerves unclogged and free of compost flavored radio components.

5 – Be vigilant of germ bearing strangers. Does anyone appear to be drooling? For all you know, they may be infected with Wasabi Olfactory Ouchy Disorder (WOOD). This is easily transmitted in close quarters; so if you see someone drooling, avoid helping them with blowing the WOOD snot out of their nostrils.

5n- Other nasty diseases that are readily spreadily are: Tingly Or Otherwise Twittering Hairs (TOOTH) that seem to take on a life of their own when they leave your neighbor’s scalp; Funky Armpit Stinky Times (FAST) which disable your sniffing glands after causing brief fainting spells, and Belly Area Regurgitation Flicks (BARF) which… well… urrrp… occckkk…. arrrggghhh get away!! Get AWAY!!

Q – When traveling to other lands, please try to learn at least a few phrases of the native language. For example, in Germany, one might stand on a busy street corner and shout: “Mein Onkel hat noch mal sein Klavier gegessen!!” English translation: “My uncle has eaten his piano again!!” Now if you are in a Spanish speaking country, a proper introduction to new friends could come in the form of: “Mi casa es muy apestoso!!” English: “My house is very stinky!!” The most enjoyable part of these cultural experiences, I’m sure, will be the reactions of those to whom you are speaking.

I have many other artificially flavored travel suggestions, but I don’t want to overload your noggins with such vital information right now. You may e-mail me at u.r.stinky@wuttagoof.com; or of course you can call Snern, my pet wombat; who screens all my calls with the diligence of someone who has never existed.

In the meantime, I would like to leave you with this parting thought: don’t try to build your own plane like Mickey Mouse did. Might cause problems…