What does it mean to be a man?  Biologically speaking, I guess a man simply means being male and past the age of puberty.  But of course, it’s much more than that.  Right??  Well, I hope you’re not going to try to pin me down on what a man is, because I’m still learning that one.  While I was growing up, movie stars like John Wayne, Glenn Ford, Gary Cooper and the like were considered male role models.  Real men! Gun toting, sports loving, woman dominating guys that made this country great!!  Right??  

I don’t think so!!  

And because I don’t think so, according to some males there must be something wrong with me.  I don’t give a rip about sports. I don’t own a gun. In regard to women, I have nothing but the highest respect for them.  Admit it guys, you really have to give a huge amount of credit to women.  They brought us into this world, and in spite of the way all too many men have mistreated and abused females over the years, we still have women who are willing to put up with us.

Is that dedication or what?? 

Well, one of the things I’ve learned along the way is that fire and water don’t mix.  Even more importantly, firewater and family life definitely don’t mix.  At least not in my case, where one serving of firewater was too many and a thousand wasn’t enough.  And that is also the case for most of the men I consider friends these days.  We all have a common bond:  firewater make man crazy, stop drinking firewater and get into recovery, recovery make man better.  We’ve embraced a rather strange concept called “surrender to win.”  There is a bunch of us, and for those in this neck of the woods who get their application turned in by the deadline there is the annual “Men’s Spiritual Retreat.” 

In case any of you man-boys out there are thinking of attending one of these events, here’s a little sample of what you might find, which may or may not be a completely silly joke (well OK, it’s a joke) that I’m in dire need of writing because of the horribly brain draining universe I’ve been living in these days. So much negativity, sadness… I think it’s time to make a very silly fictitious story about our “Men’s Spiritual Retreat,” am I right??

OK… here we go.

Day 1:  (Friday evening)

 Check in.  I was handed a packet of welcome materials, including a schedule, from a nice man who smiled at me and said with a twinkle in his eye, “Go find a place in the dirt for sleeping.”  So, I humbly took my tent to the mosquito infested river bank and set up my “room” for the weekend. Some friends saw me fumbling with the poles and walked over to mock me and pretend to help.  They all had a good laugh as I battled the blood sucking bugs, smacking the ones on my head with my hand until I was speaking in tongues.  Then they led me to the camp fire where a very old man with three teeth and big, bulging eyes was telling a story:  

“Long ago in Grandfather’s beard, a small squid died and stunk for days. All the village Elders offered him fire to drink and hid his remote control. Little children crawled up to see him and chewed off his toes. His own family sent for the Magic Bowl. They filled it with bird runch and mixed in pork, crayon shavings and geek fat. The ceremony began with the first three episodes of “Gilligan’s Island”; and when Grandfather started lusting for Mrs. Howell they fed him the Modongo. Very soon Grandfather blortled and fipped. He asked “What kind of bird runch are you feeding me today? Anyhow?” His family laughed at the snackwonder, and said, “This is a very joyful time for us.  We must remove our Flingel shirts and dance wildly around the Popsicle stick.”  As he finished the last sentence, everyone received a Popsicle.  

After this rather strange ritual, all the guys got dressed again and “Little Louie” shouted, “Meeting Time!!  C’mon, everybody grab a stump!!”  Then we started off with a topic, “Using macramé to kill cravings.”  Silly me, I thought macramé was a forgotten art, but each man was handed some twine and when it was his turn to share about some issue with which he was struggling, he was to add his twine to the weave.  The finished product resembled a large duck with a sledgehammer on its head… and it was announced that, “Some lucky person will be taking this home after the retreat is done.”

Midnight rolled around and none of us had eaten dinner.  But we were assured we wouldn’t go to bed hungry; and that we should line up and a “fine feast” would be waiting for us in the lodge kitchen.  By this time I had already made a few friends and boy, I’m telling you, that bowl of Rice Crispies was just plain awesome.  After eating I flopped into my tent and slept like a baby until reveille.

Day 2:  (Saturday)

At about 5:30 in the stinkin’ morning I hear some kakahead  near the lodge yelling, “Breakfast for Kings!!  Breakfast for Ki-i-n-ngs!”  I’m thinking manly thoughts of running over and choking this guy.  But then my serenity kicked in, and I put on an happy face and dragged my sleepy hiney over to see what this “Breakfast for Kings” was all about.  Turns out they had invented a new way to cook eggs the previous year, and “Old Herman” was dropping a dozen or two straight into the coals of the camp fire. Shells and all!  We were each given a wooden spoon that had been soaked in castor oil and told, “Just get them eggs outta there when they’re done the way you like ’em.”   I excused myself and went to my car, where I had carefully stashed a Snickers bar and a RC cola.

 After the “King’s Breakfast,” there was a long line for the port-a-john.  Once the fumes cleared, the activities coordinator jumped up on a stump and spoke loudly.  “We’re gonna have some fun today… now we know you’re here for your spirit, but we gotta play a little too.  So, we’ve arranged for golf and tree-bowling.  Just tell Arliss over here if you wanna golf, and tell Rufert over there if you wanna go tree-bowling.”  Most of the guys hooked up with Arliss, and my good friend Dick asked me if I was going to golf.  I told him that I don’t really golf, but thanks anyway.  In the spirit of the retreat, he promptly told me, “Well, I guess you’re just a stupid wuss and I won’t be talking to you anymore after today.”  So, remembering that tolerance is the key to spiritual wisdom, I prayed for him to hop into his car and run over his clubs while I walked over to Rufert to find out about this tree-bowling.  

“Hi Rufert, I’m Ken,” I announced as I shook his hand.  I looked around for any evidence of equipment and asked, “What’s this tree-bowling about, anyway?”  “Well,” he said sheepishly, “we didn’t have enough money to rent a lane at the bowling alley, and nobody had any pins at home.  So….”  I waited eagerly as he paused and looked at the ground and tightened his lips.  “So,” he continued, “we found some trees that are in a formation like bowling pins.  We’re gonna use this big beach ball over there and pretend we’re knocking them down.”  Then I responded, “Ohhh… ok…. well, ummm… how are you gonna keep score?”  “Oh FINE!! So you don’t want to play, huh??  What are you, some kind of wussy??  You better go before I lose my patience here,” Rufert snorted.

I decided to relax by the river and read my meditation books while the rest of the men played their very important games.  I don’t know about any other men out there, but one of the most helpful books for me is, “Daily Meditations for Men Who Have No Self-Esteem and Are Not Likely to Get Any.”  I believe it’s one of those Hazelnut publications.  Interesting, because in light of what was going on around me that day, the reading fit it to a tee:  “You are surrounded by dogs.  Remember that you are also a dog, and if you step in dog dirt your Higher Power will help you clean your shoes.”  How profound!

Well, when the men came back from their fun, it was time to eat again.  We were all amazed that we were eating so early… 10:47 p.m. and we were all famished.  “Old Herman” had outdone himself this time:  marshmallow pudding with peas, and deep fried salami sandwiches.  I was totally unaware that you could deep fry a whole sandwich, but “Old Herman” pulled it off.  I asked him later how he managed this feat, and he very humbly shrugged and pointed to the minnow trap in the corner.  When I turned my head to look, I saw that the wire trap glistened with oil droplets.  Then I turned my head back toward “Old Herman” and he gave me a wistful wink and nodded his head.  Then he abruptly excused himself and made a bee line for the port-a-john.

After dinner I scraped the grease off my face and slid back into my tent and enjoyed indigestion rumblings and numerous trips to the port-a-john for the rest of the night.  Maybe part of my inability to sleep was anticipation of the next morning, which was the wrap up session for the retreat.

Day 3:  (Sunday morning)

No “King’s Breakfast” this morning.  Ah well.  Instead, we got instructions on what wild fruits and edible plants were available in the area, and also a hand-drawn map on where to find them.  As we all set out to forage, I made a loop through the woods and got back into my car where I had some Little Debbie snack cakes tucked under the seat.  “Old Herman” spotted me and invited himself in, and the two of us shoved snack cakes into our faces until the rest of the poor souls returned with thorns on their lips and burrs in their clothing.  We were all invited to circle around the camp fire to say a last group prayer before departing.  “Old Herman” and I gleefully burped often and blew the scent of Little Debbie snack cakes into the nostrils of our famished neighbors.  Then we all did the secret handshake and called each other vile names, hopped in our cars, and gunned our engines to get the heck out of there.  Each of us abused our transmissions and kicked up globs of dirt with our tires until there was nothing visible but a huge cloud of dust over the lodge.  And I think I saw that poor macramé duck thing along the road as I drove home.

So as you call can see, this story about the men’s retreat was completely fabricated. But hey, I can hardly wait till next year!!  I’m sure I’ll be going, but I’ll make sure to tell “Old Herman” I’ll be a little late.

Gotta stop at the store for survival snacks on the way…

And now for something completely different.

So there we were, at RiverEdge Park in Aurora, Illinois, about 600 feet above sea level (I looked it up), when a rock band called Cheap Trick (heard of them?) emerged from the prehistoric times of our youth to play for all of us old people. OK, there were some young people too, but not very many. Weather was perfect. Sound system was top notch. Unfortunately, however, Rick Nielsen was not doing so good.

According to the interwebs, Mr. Nielsen is known as the band’s lead guitarist and primary songwriter. He’s 77 years old right now… and his age seemed to be catching up with him during the concert last night. If any of you pray, please wing some up for him… he had to leave the stage a few times because he wasn’t feeling well. In spite of those interruptions, the rest of the band did the very best they could without him. It was a noble effort, but I’m sure it wasn’t one of their best shows.

Prior to the concert, we were checking in to our hotel and gabbing about our plans to go the the concert. When we mentioned we were there to see Cheap Trick, all but one of the folks at the desk were familiar. The youngster at the desk asked, “Who’s Cheap Trick??” We replied immediately, “They’re a rock band from the 70s. Old people music.” “Oh, OK,” he said, nodding; but it was very apparent that he had no clue who they were.

Such is the plight of ancient beings like me. I still actively listen to tunes from the 60s right on through to current artists; although I admit my familiarity with much of the current music scene is pretty limited. Heck, I even like stuff that was popular way before I was born. Some of that 20s, 30s, and 40s dance music really rocks my socks! Some from the 1950s even!!

Yes, I am officially an old fart.

Ah, the 70s… no not the music (although that was a good time), I’m 72 now… holy high blood pressure / venous insufficiency / metabolism changes, Batman!! My blood pressure is managed with meds, my venous insufficiency is managed with compression socks, and my metabolism has changed to the point that if I even look at an ice cream cone I gain 2 ½ pounds. Oh and yeah… those socks are so awesome. They keep my feet from getting swollen due to circulatory changes; but they are a total pain in the hiney to put on and take off. I am getting some resistance training from donning and removing socks!! A younger friend of mine saw them the other day, and said, “Wow Ken!! Cool socks!! I need to get me some!!!” I smirked and emphatically replied, “These are medicine socks!!”

Oh well, I keep reminding myself how blessed I am. I’m retired, have no debt, and all things considered I am in very good health. And yes, I’ll continue to listen to old people music. It’s like… far out, man!!

Here are a few examples for your listening and viewing pleasure.

Although it seems to be getting increasingly painful, I read the news. Did you know that some idiot that lives in the White House just declared that Lake Ontario will be officially renamed to Lake of America?? It makes me to barf on the ground. First the Gulf of Mexico, now this. And the billionaires who support him are marching in lockstep… Apple maps and Google maps both display the “Gulf of America” even though Mapquest still displays the correct name: Gulf of Mexico.

Oy yoy yoy.

Well maybe we could really mix it up. You know, like maybe we could all just start renaming people, places, and things to whatever the heck we want them to be. I’ll begin, then any of you who wish to play can join in. We’ll call the game “I Hereby Declare…” The only rule is to use an example of the new usage in a sentence.

I hereby declare:

Hot dogs are to be renamed radishes. “I’d like two chili radishes and some fries please.”

New York City is to be renamed New Orleans, and vice versa. “We’re really geeked about seeing the Empire State Building during Mardi Gras. Then we’re going down to Louisiana for some famous New York style jambalaya.”

Dogs are hereby renamed lamprey eels. “Yesterday I took my lamprey to get it neutered. It didn’t seem very happy because it chewed up the pillows on the sofa while I was at work.”

Red will hitherto be referred to as orange. “I’m sorry officer, I didn’t see that the light was orange. I’m sure I hit the light when it was yellow and I probably should have stopped… but I continued on and pulled over because my lamprey eel was eating a chili radish and got a mess all over me.”

Beans will now be called fartpoppers. “Mmmm I’m hungry. Hope there are some left over Boston baked fartpoppers!!”

And least but also last:

Seconds are now to be called as years; and years shall be called decades. “Yes I know I’m 72 decades old, but just for the fun of it I learned that my new Toyota Camry LE will go from zero to sixty in just 10.3 years.”

OK that’s probably more than enough. Not sure what we can do to stop the madness that’s oozing out of the White House these days. Seems like November is too long to wait.

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

I’ve been very busy thinking about the world and all its problems. In doing so, I’ve become increasingly aware that I cannot solve much… but what I can do is try the very best I can to improve the environment I find myself in at any given time. I try to be kind and loving to every soul I meet. I also do my best to respect Mother Nature. So anyway I feel I’ve learned a few things over the years; and have gathered some words of wisdom I wish to present to you at this time for your reading pleasure.

I may have made some of these up…

0!) First rule: don’t sweat the small stuff. Second rule: Everything is small stuff.

z) Don’t sweat the petty things, and don’t pet the sweaty things.

L) You can pick radishes before they are ripe, and they will still be red.

6) I’ve learned to be grateful for my big nose… it keeps my feet dry when it rains.

@) If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. If life gives you peaches, make applesauce.

14) Listen… do you smell something?

8x) I keep my snacks in folders so I can organize them according to calorie content.  However, some snacks are not easily folded.

&) Some Of The Most Delicious Snacks In The Previous Entry Item (8x) Are Capitalized To Enhance Their Complete Lack Of Nutritional Value.

Bu) Only the best Yo Vonkeny may be stored under the Mizzlepop Trees.

r9) I really need to quit stuffing donuts in my ears. But they are so soft!!

Woo) My window snakes can’t jump anymore; but on a scale of 1 to 34 it smells like root beer is my favorite color of the alphabet.

And finally, that age-old proclamation of mine:

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

Thank you for enduring this horribly inflammable laundry hallucination. May you always be cheerful and incredibly crinkly during your remaining Earth years.

I’m going back to bed now, but not until after the video.

Sincerely But Inexpensively Yours,

Halvert Bonklesnorts
Inventor of Dead Trees

Dear Buttonpopplers,

This letter is to address the desire / craving / need you never expressed regarding a cool yet refreshing beverage that is both fluffy and indigestible during working hours. I’m happy to report that I have invented a new and irresistible dust flavored soda made of wholesome, all natural components we have all learned to tearfully disintegrate.

I’m calling my new drink “BOOF!!,” which must always be spelled with inverted angle iron bedazzled with very appealing frost covered pebbles. “BOOFF!!” gets its amazing flavors from only the most exceptional, fruity, crunchy laundry water which is carefully harvested from environmentally sanctioned veterinary noodles. The texture of this amazing drink is in no way similar to cotton candy that’s been uncarefully blended with fermented popcorn. However, the swirling purple strands gyrating in the bright orange liquid is truly convulsive to even the most die-hard soda pop guzzling professionals.

We’ll be packaging “BOOF!!” in only the finest recycled dish detergent containers. This method has been found ineffective in destroying harmful bacteria and other toxic organisms, especially those named “Piffy” or “Zonikula.” An added benefit is, of course, the flavor enhancements that are derived from the hyperpolysyllabic cultural centers of Bonkyootalvoningabibnia and Haverstanky-Wofflekaboomerang.

Nobody ever goes to either of those imaginary places.

So my friends, please do not remind me of what I was actually supposed to convey here. I’ve been writing this important announcement in my sleep and I do not wish to be disturbed by any regurgitation noises after you’ve finished drinking several gallons of “BOOF!!” Why you would even purchase such a product is a complete mystery to me. Of course, I also am profoundly mystified by thoughts of how many fingernail fragments I’ve discarded over the years.

Is there a container large enough in my garage for all those clippings?? I just don’t know!!

Please be well. Oh and by all means, please remember: DON’T DRINK “BOOF!!” It is likely to make you to barf on the ground.

Insincerely yours,

Vorgnoot Jibbleflapper

Your very pungent neighbor

This may be EXACTLY how “BOOF!!” is made. Or maybe not at all!!

Holy moly, it certainly is holy smoky outside. Smokey Bear is probably crying much of the time these days. All the terrible wildfires in Canada and northern U.S. Very sad indeed. And whether we’d like to admit it or not, it’s basically all our fault.

Huh??

No, I’m not trying to say all these fires were started by humans. Some of them were, but many were caused by lightning. Hot, dry summers are creating tinderboxes in many of our woodlands with very unfortunate results.

No, what I’m getting at is this pretty well known scientific fact that human activities are causing our lovely planet to heat up. We burn too many fossil fuels, we remove too many forests, and we raise too many livestock; and all these endeavors are causing greenhouse gases to get trapped in the atmosphere. The result, the Earth is warming up.

Here’s a site that sums it all up quite nicely:

https://maweb.org/what-are-some-human-activities-that-contribute-to-global-warming

So what can we do?? Well there are lots of things, but we’ll all have to work together to make any dents in the warming trend that has already become quite evident. Here is my own personal list that may or may not give you some ideas of steps we can take to mitigate global warming.

1. Eat less macaroni and cheese (the kind in the box). Bet you didn’t expect that to show up on the list!! Well think about it: making the macaroni involves using energy, packaging it uses energy, and producing all the “cheese” (God only knows what all those chemicals are) also consumes energy. Then the product has to be shipped… more energy use. In other words, eat fewer processed foods.
2. Buy fewer toys. Am I a buzzkiller or what?? I can’t help myself, especially when it comes to techie toys. For why do I say this? Well I retired from IT, and my long career in technology has pointed out something very striking to me: we humans could survive very nicely with stuff that just works. I mean, do we really need an iPhone 29 ½?? Yes, I know that model hasn’t come out yet. But my “brand new” iPhone 8 has worked just fine for 9 years… I did get a new battery installed last year but otherwise it works very well. A friend of mine was complaining she couldn’t add a certain app on her aging phone because the IOS was not the latest and greatest version. My phone won’t do the newest version either… and my philosophy is simple: if I can make calls, sent texts, and go on the interwebs, there are lots of apps I can do without.
3. Drive less. Use public transit, a bicycle, or even walk. Automobile exhaust is a big contributor to global warming. Some of us can’t or maybe just won’t drive less. Well in that case, at the very least get a more fuel efficient vehicle. Less gas burned equals fewer emissions.
4. Mow less. Am I an agitator or what?? I can hear the moaning: “Oh sure, now he’s trying to steal our lawns!!” Maybe just mow less often? Maybe make the area you mow a bit smaller? Maybe quit using fertilizers and weed killers… all those chemicals are pretty harmful ya know. Maybe plant some trees?? Am I a pain in the hiney yet??
5. Oh here’s a weird one: VOTE. Go to the polls and vote for folks who understand how vital Mother Nature is to our survival. She can’t speak for herself you know… it’s up to us. Well OK, she actually does speak for herself, but it sure doesn’t feel like enough people are listening.

Well there are a lot more suggestions I’d love to impart, but I’ll hop down off the soap box now. Sure, there are no easy answers; but all the stuff I just ranted about is by no means new information. But when I think about the origins of Earth Day and the all too prevalent lack of regard for our environment; I get a little sad inside.

Let’s try to work together on this. Smokey Bear would appreciate it.

Dear Homosapiens,

Please tell yourselves and any other creatures you may know that I’m writing to inform you that love is the most useful activity in which we can indulge. As you may already know, love includes tolerance, kindness, friendship, smiling, hugs, and courtesy as important and nourishing parts of everyday life. Oh gosh, did I say important and nourishing??

Yes I did.

You see, my professional opinion is that love is not merely something desirable as a way of living, but it is also quite necessary and nourishing for the soul. Therefore I feel it’s important to love each and every creature, plant, and even soil particle with every fiber of our being. We are all part of this entity we call Nature, are we not?? Love is what ties us all together; and if you don’t believe me, please feel free to ask me some time.

Does this mean that we must open our homes to invite hardened criminals or other nasties into our homes for a nice meal?? We could, I suppose, but I know of some folks who I likely will never invite to my house. However, I really do try to remember that we are all children of the Universe and we therefore all deserve to be loved unconditionally. My sincere belief is that we are all interconnected, so it’s important for me to realize that negative energy releases toxic vibrations into the Universe. Criminals and other sadly afflicted individuals already have more than enough negativity stuffed into their nostrils and other body passages. It’s important for me to regard such types as spiritually ill, and pray for them until the cows come home if necessary. If the cows don’t come home, I pray all the more. Heck, I pray even if the cows have been home for a very long time!

In other words, I believe I should love everyone; but that doesn’t mean I must like them.

These ideas were at one time completely foreign to me. When I was younger and much more foolish, I would sometimes revel in the idea that it was OK to label someone as a jerkface stinkerbutt. I would sometimes even try to vent my feelings with single-fingered sign language while driving by in my car. Or perhaps I would seriously entertain the thought of offering them some Dog Poop Surprise for a snack. At the very least, I would find myself judgemental and often resentful of the person’s mere existence. This is all very bad juju.

Now I am much older and (I hope) a little less foolish.

Thankfully, I received what I refer to as a gift of desperation a few decades ago that helped me realize my judgemental and resentful tendencies were not at all healthy. Bottom line: I really needed to grow up!! I sought and received help from professionals and loving friends, and am happy to say that I’m feeling pretty content 99.9% of the time. When the other 0.1% tries to creep in between my ears, I focus on being grateful. Even if things seem icky, it’s a rare day when I cannot I enumerate at least 5 things for which I can be thankful. And of course when I start getting into the “jerkface stinkerbutt” mode, I pray for the person (or people) to be happy and healthy all the day long.

Sometimes I have to pray several times.

As I mentioned, I needed to grow up; and that endeavor is and always will be a work in progress. These days I find peace of mind much more valuable than money or any other material blessing I might find lying around the house. I’m especially grateful I have people in my life who are like minded, loving souls.

Life is good; and I hope and pray it is good for all of you.

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

Dear Person,

I hope you are well, and that you and your pets (real or imaginary) are having great satisfaction with whatever it is you are doing during the wee hours of Yes Perhaps Maybe which of course began on Jangulary 34, 2017.7 under all those leaky sinks that have never been polished since that gigantic snowstorm we never had in our living room. Do you know what I mean??

I have absolutely no recollection of these things.

However, I am fully aware that we can rebuild America with goat inspection tools and fried bilge pumps. You of all people should know what I’m screaming about when I place my hand in the large pot of boiling Tootsie Roll bladder worms! Don’t try to give me that sheepish, innocent gumdrop gesture that I can neither see nor smell from here. I know full well what you’re up to, Mr. or Ms. Human Person!! Why can’t you just learn to yodel under water like all the normal giblet baskets?? Do you think you’re special or something (well, you are, whether you like it or not)?

Do you know who this is?? Do you know who you’re talking to??

Well I know exactly who it was. He was here with his pet vinegaroon, boldly going where no plant has grown before. You see, there are things that can be snipped into small bark flavored candy snacks, and there are other socket wrenches that simply don’t know how to spell “boink.” You simply have to be patient with the chocolate slide and jump off to Monico when you’ve discovered those silly Colorado M&Ms. You know the place… they have snot on the mountain tops.

As you enjoy this new and underwhelming decade of happiness, I must impart upon you my great knowledge; which I have spent many years of careful research and verbosity to inject. My great wisdom that I have learned (and for that matter, am still learning) from my many hours on this Planet We Call Zingletroan (PWCZ) is simply this, and I quote:

“I don’t know anything.

I never did know anything.

But now I know I don’t know anything!!”

I quote this from my favorite Christmas movie “Scrooge,” the one from 1951 starring Alistair Sim. I say it often, and when I go to “those meetings” I proudly announce that in addition to being allergic to ethanol (makes me break out in traffic violations) I’m also trying to recover from Mr. Know It All Disease. My friends are all very slowly crawling away when they hear this, and they show their amplification by offering me large wads of crumpled potato skins in exchange for the contents of my wallet. Immediately following such a transaction, I gladly tell them how to reach an undesirable destination and also provide instructions on how they might occupy their time once they arrive.

In closing, I would very much like to tell you all something that I am having difficulty outlining with very fat crayons. So I guess I just won’t say anything further; but I will indeed further my career as Chief Mustard Acrobat at the amazing clock factory I keep in my kitchen cabinets.

Sincerely (but not entirely) yours,

Melvin G. Yankpopper

a.k.a. “Purplefoot Giggletoss”

Ummm no, I don’t think there’s any such thing as vegetarian jambalaya. So for all youse purists out there, please don’t spit on the screen when I tell you that I made a dish that I’m calling Vegetarian “Jambalaya.” See how I did that?? I put “Jambalaya” in quotes because it’s make-a-believe Jambalaya.

Ha ha!! I laugh now!!

You see, it’s like this: Mike, my brother from another mother, has been kind enough to do my taxes for the last several years. He refuses to take any money for this huge favor, so when I ask “What would you like in return for doing taxes this year?” the response often involves food. That’s very OK with me… I really like food. So this year, he requested jambalaya; and last weekend on Mothers Day I finally got off my hiney and made up a batch of Shrimp and Sausage Jambalaya from a recipe I downloaded about 16 years ago. Because I love each and every one of youse, you can click on the image below and go to Emeril’s site for some nice carnivorous jambalaya ideas.

Well boys and girls, you may well ask, “So what’s up with this Vegetarian ‘Jambalaya’ stuff?? Anyhow??” Well you see, it’s like this: my amazing partner Debi and I each lost our spouses at different times together. Neither of us wanted to remain alone for our last years, so we went to www.ourtime.com in search for a possible companion. After thorough interrogation (a week’s worth of multi-hour phone calls), we checked every box we could think of and decided we’d go ahead and meet in person. During one of the calls, she said, “I need to tell you something about myself that you might not like.” My brain said “Uh-oh,” but my mouth said, “What’s that??” “I’m a vegetarian,” she replied. My response: “Oh!! No worries, my wife and I were vegetarian for several years. I know how to do that.” She was relieved to know that I also like to cook, because she does not.

When I made the “meat lover’s” jambalaya for our Mothers Day gathering, it came out pretty darn good. Complemented it with a nice salad. Wasn’t sure if the grandsons would go for jambalaya, so I also made pizza… one with meat and one without. Just wanted to make sure that nobody, including Debi, was left wanting. So then I says to myself, “Hey you with the face!! I bet you could make some jambalaya without meat!!” And by golly I did, and it tasted pretty darn good.

Fortunately for me, Debi is vegetarian, but not vegan. Otherwise I’d have to get me some new cookbooks!! For those who don’t know, that means she will eat eggs and dairy products.

And again, because I love each and every one of youse, please click on the image below if you’d like to have my recipe for Vegetarian “Jambalaya”.

Well I hope you try some jambalaya some time, whether it’s carnivorous or vegetarian. But regarding vegetables, if any of them are suspected of committing a crime, just remember that the mice are probably to blame. If you don’t believe me, just watch this very informative cartoon!!

Dear Purple Trees,

Because I consider all of you the very best of friends, I just wanted to write a note to let you know how much love is stored for each and every one of you in this 7 trillion gallon container that sits on my mantle each and every stinking day.

As you know, dirt has been falling from our ceilings for at least 13 minutes, and all oatmeal is beginning to taste a lot like Christmas. After all, who would have guessed that the cats could use a grease gun for a nutritious Moose Hammer??

OH MY GOD!!! Those marshmallows are sucking the wax out of my ears again!! This is no time to visit Mars for crying out loud!! Get back in this coffee jar and start twinkling!! What, do you actually think you can let the air out of a person’s fingernails and suddenly become blonde??? SHEESH!! It’s like you don’t even WANT to bite clam shells!!

I feel it’s my duty to report that my cats were trying to elevate their level of consciousness the other day by trimming their whiskers with a pencil eraser. Not sure why they chose a yellow raisin filter instead of a fluffy carpet hamper, but now both of them have kidneys that glow in the dark. We have actually resorted to covering them with a large garage opener so we can sleep at night.

They are not amused.

I’m sure I can speak sincerely when I say that my sneakers smell rather like Antarctic lobsters lying in a hot October softball casserole. So, if you ever get an overwhelming desire to sleep with a casserole, please wait until the October sneaker lobsters smell like your favorite crunchy cabbage cookies. That oughta show those sneakers who’s boss!!

OK my dear friends, it’s time for me to rotate my Cottonelle Instant Breakfast. I do hope that none of you continue to lick newspapers until the cows come back to Vegas.

I’m glad that all of you are, because if you were not, you would not be, and I’ve always been happy to see that each and every one of youse really are indeed being. (You have probably been being all along but never even knew it!!)

Have you seen my carbon flavored waffle socks?? I seem to have misplaced my dandruff torch.

Peace, Love, and Indivisibility,

Kenny Picklewort

a.k.a. “Cecil Snackwonder”

Well… after that intense does of nonsensical angularity, perhaps you would now enjoy some more sensible cantaloupe toenails. This video will in no way soothe your dusty snouts.