Bloop Is The Word

Some people need a word for the day to make the radio sauces slide briskly from under the toilet canopy. Well in my professional opinion, “bird” is not the word. No, rather the word for today (or any other day) is “bloop.” Sometimes it’s used as an exclamation, as in the case of dropping something in the water. An example: remember that one time I was with Uncle Bribblet on the dock at Zooper’s Pond? He handed me this awesome looking smellphone he just bought and went up to the house to get seconds on Aunt Meebee’s refried cabbage sticks. When he came back, I had some bad news for him: “Sorry… I had your new iPhone 27 held tightly in my grubby little mitts, but as I was leaning over the dock I was distracted by the freshwater hexagonal stickfish and BLOOP!! into the brackish water it went. I was able to get it out and I tried to dry it off in the fire, but it started to fizz and make weird popping noises.”

Uncle Bribblet was not amused.

Because I enjoy learning more about words and other household temperature measuring cups, I decided to scan the interwebs for any additional applications of the word “bloop.” Lo and behold, there was one I had never heard of before. According to Wikipedia, “Bloop was an ultra-low-frequency, high amplitude underwater sound detected by the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) in 1997.” Initially it was thought to have originated from a marine animal, but it was later determined to be sounds from glacial movement or by “seabed gouging by ice.” Well now that’s just plain fascinating!! If only I was there to enjoy the bloopening!! Perhaps I could have gotten an autograph from one of the underwater sound detection technician people persons!! Or not!!

Bloop also appears in baseball, when a batter smacks a ball just beyond the infield. And then there are bloopers in film or other video media in which mistakes are made and are presented to audiences for the humor of it all. And then there’s the use of bloop to describe a noise made by an electronic device. So yes, goys and birls, I’m stealing all these inflammable regressions from the webbernet dictionary website definition place things.

Being the drebnerflooted person I am, I have sometimes been known to utter a short, high-pitched, low volume “bloop!!” for no apparent reason. This serves no other purpose than sheer amusement for me and anyone nearby who happens to hear it. I’ve also been known to utter other inconomulous strebulations like “flarf!!” or “mozzbop!!” and perhaps even “hookonk!!” just to perplex my grandsons and any other young or otherwise height-challenged lifeforms that happen to be within earshot. Of course, few of the “words” you just read are real; but hey, if you can’t have fun langling manguage, I mean, why squish the Twinkies on the sidewalk? Right??

Of course it is!!

Lastly, but not in the least indivisible, is the (not very) famous poem that includes the bloop as a sound made from mergling.

Well there you go. These days, there are many things we could cry about, but sometimes it’s important to laugh with very big harroo while you have a big mouthful of macaroni and cheese. I hope you find a word for your day, whether it is “bird,” or “bloop,” or even something highly technical like “wozzpoffle.” In the meantime, may your nostrils be free of burrowing insects, and may your garments be forever stain resistant.

Peace, Love, and Blissful Antigens,

Hyram C. Gilmore

On the other hand, you have Betty Boop and Grampy…

Terminologization

Words can be funny. Four egg sample, eye in joy you sing words that sound like they should bee OK to gather, butt their really knot. And then you have words that people make up; which can be really funny. However, it’s probably not polite to laugh at folks when they do it; especially if it’s unintentional.

I enjoyed just such a scenario some years ago. A friend and I were talking at work… I remember work!  Work is the opposite of retirement!!  Anyway, we were commiserating about work and then we thought that instead we should be trying to help each other stay grateful and not allow negative things to rot our souls and Holy Moly are we fortunate or what and although I didn’t talk to him with a run-on sentence you can bet your bippy I’m doing it now to illustrate this event; and anyway he says that we both need to stay positive and push the negative garbage away and I said,

“Yes, it’s poison.” And he replied, “YES!! You know, I just love the way you terminologize things!”

So!! I just kind of brooped and houted and said “aw shucks,” and off we went to our jobfulness. Then, when I was looking for something to write about for “Happy Friday!!!,” I thought this would be fun. Just to be sure I did a search on a dictionary site for “terminologize,” and the result was “Word not found in the Dictionary and Encyclopedia. Did you mean: terminology. And I yelled with great varnashification at the screen, “NO!! DIDN’T YOU SEE WHAT I TYPED IN THE SEARCH FIELD? I WANTED TO KNOW IF TERMINOLOGIZE IS A WORD!! SHEESH!!

And of course the screen just sat there with that silly screenified look on its face.

Now in olden days, when I was much younger and much more crelbified with “Mr. Know It All” disease, I would have told my friend, “umm, I don’t think ‘terminologize’ is a word.” No, I’ve learned that kind of correctification only serves to demean my fellow humans. I’m trying to be a recovering Know It All, in addition to some other recovery stuff I try to practice.

Conversely (that’s a real word…), I enjoy making up nonsense words to make people laugh. Sometimes they don’t get and say, “huh??” but most times folks chuckle a bit and repeat the word back to me while smiling.

Had that very thing happen a couple weeks ago. I was at the gas station, and came in to pay for my fuel. Then I spied some of those yummy 2 for a dollar sausage thingies in the little dispenser. I went to get the little paper sleeve they provide to put your links in, and had a heck of a time getting my fingers to do my brain’s bidding. “I’m a bit clumsy this morning for some reason,” I chuckled. Then I added, “I think I need to declumsify. Don’t think that’s a word, but maybe it is now!” The nice cashier lady laughed and said, “hmmm… declumsify!! I like it!! Sounds good to me!” Then we bantered more pleasantries back and forth as I paid my bill. “My puppy loves these things,” I said, pointing to the sausages. “Thanks, have a nice day.” She smiled and answered, “thank YOU. And thanks for the new word!!”

One word that I didn’t make up, is doable. What a stupid word!! It’s pronounced as if it were three words: “do a bull.” Well that can be construed as being a bit naughty if you’re, say, 14 years old or above. When I look at it and apply pronunciation rules, I think it should be pronounced “doh – bull;” because when I see “o” and “a” together in other words, it’s pronounced with the long “o” sound. Four egg sample: coat, or boat, or foal.

Anyway, pleas enjoy your words, whether imaginary oar knot. Eye no eye dew!! I try to make at least one incroflabious word every day.

I think…

These two guys mastered the silliness that can be found with words that sound the same but take much different meanings…

Rocky Raccoon And The Heavily Worsened Clutter Bomb

Once upon a time, during a prehistoric era where no smellphones or even personal computers roamed Earth, there was a fine young couple who bought a house with a very nice unattached two car garage. They marveled at the amazing amount of prospective storage space that was found in this garage! They liked it so much, they slowly but surely filled it with very important things like motor oil, a wheelbarrow, a garden tractor, a 30 gallon drum for used motor oil, nails, screws, scraps of lumber, coolers (in the rafters), bicycles, a tent, some lawn furniture, more nails, nuts, bolts, washers, old electronic things that were “way too good to toss out,” brooms, rakes, paint, bags of concrete mix, a snowblower, saws, axes, splitting mauls, hammers, socket sets, drills, and many, many other doodads and thingamabobs that, if listed, would just serve to make this run-on sentence even more ridiculously long than it is already.

So then winter came.

“Hey, it sure would be nice to put cars in the garage during the winter!!” the Beautiful Wife proclaimed. “Yeah, it would,” the Sheepish Hubby murmured. However, there was simply no room for such a practical ideal to be implemented. “We’ll need to move some stuff out of the garage to do that,” he continued. “Not sure where we can put all the stuff!!”

Several years passed, and the fine young couple (OK, the Sheepish Hubby) finally got their hineys in gear and cleared enough room for cars to actually be inside the garage!! And they got a new garage door with an automatic opener and everything!! Wow!! What a cool thing to wake up on a frosty morning and not have to scrape either frost or bird poop off the windows!! Amazing!! Boy are we glad we did this!!

One might ask, “what happened to all the stuff??” Well I wish you hadn’t asked that. You see, being the frugal (or maybe fanatical) person I am (more like was, I’m better now… kinda), I did take lots of stuff to Goodwill, and some stuff went to the dump. But all the “useful” stuff got crammed into every nook and cranny. I carefully placed all these “goodies” in the shelves, on top of the shelves, under the workbench, on top of the workbench, on the shelf above the workbench, in the window sills, between the studs, and in the rafters above the cars. Initially it looked OK, but after several years of stuffing things, using things, and rearranging things (sometimes just tossing things), the innards of our poor garage looked as if a giant clutter bomb was detonated; scattering “useful” thingamabobs and doodads in every direction.

I’m retired now, and one of my goals for retirement is to clean the garage. Sounds like a commendable goal, right? Sure!! Great plan!! I can only imagine all the cool stuff I’ll find that I’ve completely forgotten about!! It will be awesome when it’s all done, even if it takes me a month or more (be nice now, it’s been a bit of a mess for several years).

Then a horrible thing happened: I left the garage door open last week, and an intruder decided to invade. I knew this was true, because I got up to go pee and saw that someone (or something) had tripped the light beam at the bottom of the garage door opener, which turned the light on. “Oh fobblecronk!!” I said to myself. OK, I may have said something stronger. I figured it was a stray cat or dog or something in there, so I pressed the button on the remote by the kitchen window (so we can open the door from inside the house) to open and close the garage door a couple times. I was hoping someone would come zooming out, but nothing.

The next day, I opened the garage door, and walked outside to hop in the car. My eyeballs popped out of my head, twirled around my ears a couple times, went to my stomach and came back to my eyeball sockets. The invader had obviously been trapped inside all night, and in an effort to escape, it knocked all the stuff off the window sills. Oh, and the stuff on the workbench was tossed around. Well, suffice it to say that pretty much everything that could have been disturbed had been. It was very apparent to me that we had a raccoon problem. I figured it must be hiding under the workbench, but no. I looked up, didn’t see anything. Moved the crap out from under the car so I could get out, went to the store, came back, parked, closed the door.

Day number 2: more mess. Bigger mess. MUCH bigger mess. “OK, where are you??” I thought out loud. Looked again under the workbench. Nope. Up above? Nothing obvious. Got on a step ladder for a better look, there he (or maybe she) was. Got down off the ladder and grabbed a fish net. Ha, ha ha on me! No way. Very silly idea. Instead, the critter easily evaded me and decided to curl up into the rafters next to where the roof meets the studs. Went inside and got my extra set of welding gloves. I’m gonna grab this thing and let it go. Ummm NOOO!!! BAD IDEA!! Yes, I did try to grab it, but it instantly started to bury its head and growl. Instantly, I envisioned my face being eaten off my skull by an angry raccoon; so I decided to step down and step back. Baited a live trap, set it in the garage, left the side door open. Checked in the middle of the night, no Rocky Raccoon. And yes, by this time I started calling it Rocky; after the Beatles tune you know. After a second late night check, still nothing in the trap. Took the trap outside, left the side door open, went to bed. Morning came and Rocky was not in the trap, but Rocky was gone!! Yay!! And for those who are not aware, Rocky is not necessarily a gender specific name: we have a dear friend named Richelle, and she goes by Rocky.

Our cars are not currently sleeping in the garage at night. I have my work cut out for me: oil spills, nails, screws, tools, cans scattered everywhere. The clutter bomb debris from days of yore would be a welcome sight right now. Oh well. I think maybe I’ll try to keep the garage door closed from now on.

Good plan, yes?

Well this week’s video contains some rather corny humor. This one is from 1970, back when many homes still had TVs from the Stone Age which only rendered two colors: black and white.

Monkeys On Their Bus Ride to England

Well there we were, snarfing some homemade assorted fried rice with green beans and garlic from the garden and lots of other veggies from the grocery store and some dead crustaceans (a.k.a. shrimp), dead chicken muscles (a.k.a. chicken meat) and also dead pig muscles (a.k.a. mork peat); when My Beautiful Girlfriend announced, “it’s time to give your Papa some ideas for Happy Friday!!!” so they began hurling (not food) sentences at me in the form of interview questions and now it’s time to switch to that idea rather than allow this run-on sentence to continue any farther.

When asked what the title of this silly story should be, Gabe quickly blurted, “Monkeys On Their Bus Ride to England!!” This quickly ushered in a mock interview session in which his older brother Oliver assumed the role of interviewer.

Oliver: “Where are they in the world when they get on the bus?”

Gabe: “They are not in the world they’re on Jupiter.”

Oliver: “Is the bus that the monkeys are on going so fast on Jupiter that it somehow broke through the atmosphere and landed on earth?”

Gabe: “Well no, they did not go fast in the bus to get out of the atmosphere. They built a ginormous ramp, and it took them one day to get to earth. They landed in a field 5000 million miles away from England. The field was floating on a ginormous balloon on the water. A balloon was there to keep the field from sinking in the water.”

Oliver: “What country were they closest to one they landed?”

Gabe: “They were closest to China and four different countries.”

Oliver: “Are there any cows on this island?”

Gabe: “No but there are a crap ton of pigs!”

Oliver: “These aliens are confused.”

Gabe: “These aren’t aliens, they are just regular monkeys.”

At this time my Lovely Bride interjected that she was wondering if these monkeys were going to do any sightseeing. Perhaps they would see Big Ben or perhaps the Queen?

Gabe: “They thought maybe they would go see big Ben and the queen but instead they chose to go to the Eiffel tower to see the other crap ton of pigs.”

Oliver started to resume the “interview,” but Gabe quickly took over. “I’ll question myself,” he said. “Where did they go after they went to the Eiffel tower and saw the other crap ton of pigs? They went back to the balloon to see the first crap ton of pigs! The End.”

We all had a chuckle while I e-mailed the results of the interview to myself so I could more easily transcribe the notes I dictated to my phone along the way. Afterward we all sat down to crunch on some delicious remote controls dipped in chocolate flavored motor oil and watched “Lord Of The Rings: The Fellowship Of The Ring” until it was too late to keep our eyes open. So now I am sending this to all of YOU and that’s just all you get for this week, with the exception of course of the silly video I like to put at the end.

Thank you and good night.

P.S.: Hope the raccoon finds the live trap I set in the garage. I’m really tired of that critter tearing it up in there!!

Crybaby Cocka-roach… In Coffee?!?!?

So there I was, 639.8 feet above sea level (yes, I checked), no plane, no parachute, throwing firewood into the basement because I was trying to beat the rains and get the dry wood into the house so we could be nice and cozy warm and fuzzy with fireplace warmth and loveliness; when suddenly the guy on the radio stops between songs to tell me that there are bugs in my coffee, and of course that was a good excuse to write a long overdue run-on sentence because I haven’t done that in at least 14.82 milliseconds or maybe even more.

The announcer guy told me something I really didn’t want to know: when you buy a bag of pre-ground coffee in the store, you can expect to have a little roasted cockroach deliciousness added. Then my brain went straight to childhood (as it often does), and I remembered the chant, “crybaby cocka-roach nyaa nyaa na boo boo!!” This of course was used to taunt someone who was likely brought to tears from some cruel trick that was played on them. Now my childish adult brain is taunting me by repeating (albeit silently): “crybaby cocka-roach roasted in your cawww-feeee!!”

Gack!!

My wife and I became “coffee snobs” some years ago, or at least we thought so. Turns out there are many who are way more fanatical about coffee than we are. We bought a somewhat fancy grinder… did you know you can spend lots of money on those things?? Once we acquired the grinder we started seeking out all different whole bean coffees to see what we liked the best. Then one day we bought some 8 O’Clock whole bean coffee and loved it!! Very nice flavor and a pretty fair price. After several grinding sessions, we thought what the heck, might as well try the pre-ground variety. And guess what?? Tasted just as good. Upon that discovery we shelved the grinder with the reasoning that hey, why put miles on our grinder when the pre-ground is just as yummy?

Then I get this stupid announcement about the cocka-roaches. And yes, I know they are normally called cockroaches; but where we grew up on Long Island it was not at all uncommon to hear the much more endearing term “cocka-roaches” uttered instead. Anyway, I’m going to continue to buy the pre-ground coffee; and just keep telling myself, “8 O’Clock is a very good brand. They probably keep out the cocka-roaches… I hope.”

Before sitting down to write about this phenomenon, I hopped onto the interwebs for what was really a refresher course. Pretty much everything we eat has some kind of hitchhiker bug (or parts of them) in it; and it’s actually allowed by the FDA. There are various allowable percentages of insect parts and even rat hairs for many foods. Doesn’t that just make you hungry?? Mmmmm me too!!

Of course, food packagers don’t advertise this; ever. I am a dedicated label reader when I go to the grocery store. Because of this, I’ve changed some of my purchasing habits. For example, I rarely by shredded cheese, or the plastic cans of parmesan or Romano cheese you can shake onto your spaghetti or whatever. Why? Because packages of both shredded and grated cheeses usually contain an “anti-caking agent” which is often powdered cellulose, also known as sawdust. Hey, at least they fess up!! But in all my years of perusing food labels, I have never once seen any mentions like “may contain ‘2 or more 3 mm or longer larvae, cast skins, larval or cast skin fragments, the aggregate length of insects or insect parts exceeds 12 mm in 24 pounds’ ”; which, according to Wikipedia, is the allowable content of corn borer larvae in canned sweet corn.

Even though all this sounds gross, anyone who believes we humans can grow and eat as much food as we do and never eat any of the bugs that live on it is fooling themselves. It’s just a reality of being at the top of the food chain!! When we were kids, if our half eaten apple hit the ground, Mom would give it a quick rinse, hand it back to us and say “you gotta eat a peck of dirt before you die!!”

She never mentioned we’d also be eating bugs.

This week’s cartoon has nothing to do with food or bugs… but it’s one I’ve never seen.

The Brain – Hiney Connection And Other Senior Anomalies

This past Monday marked my 67th trip around the sun. That’s right folks, I’m starting to approach the older-than-compost mark of the big 7-0. Weird!! I mean where did all the time run off to? I distinctly remember when The Beatles came to the U.S. on the Mayflower… seems like just a couple years ago. Then suddenly I got married, had kids, and now we have grandchildren!! One grandson is 12 awreddy, and the other’s gonna be 8 next month!! Time is flying so quickly… this is a horrible thing to happen to gentle people like us (my Beautiful Girlfriend and me).

I’m told this is a common anomaly among seniors. And no, I don’t mean the high school variety. Well OK, during senior year of high school my Lovely Bride and I were planted next to each other in study hall. That was in January of… holy mazamookah!! 1972!!??!!That’s like 49 years ago!! This time whooshing phenomenon is lamented by many folks our age. We are all wondering who stole all the minutes. Gives a whole new perspective on the mantra, “try to live life one day at a time.”

I’m catching myself referring to my Sweet Honey Pie, me, and many of our friends as seniors. As in senior citizens. Old farts. Well OK, the men are the old farts, because everybody knows the ladies simply do not fart, right? Ummm… well never mind. So yes, we are senior citizens. We get discounts at restaurants, but since the nasty COVID came along we are not really interested in dining inside. Many of us are retired; and of course most of us are “enjoying” all the physical changes that make getting older so doggoned much fun.

Took a friend of mine to go get hearing aids at the Veteran’s Hospital today. He’s ten years older, and of course my mind started spinning about if (or more likely when) I’ll need hearing aids. I’m a veteran, so I was thinking maybe I could qualify for some assistance with such extravagantly expensive devices. I dropped him off at the door, parked the car, and went back inside to use the tinkle room. There’s another anomaly… old people tinkle. A LOT. Well some of us do. And even weirder, we talk to each other about it!!

So anyway, there I was, walking back inside to go tinkle, when I’m greeted by some folks behind a table. A nice lady lunged at me with a temperature doohicky and waved it near my forehead, and she began to quiz me: “Have you been sick?” “No,” I replied. She continued…

“Have you been near anyone who has been sick or has had COVID?”

“No.”

“Have you had or needed a COVID test recently?”

“No.”

“Do you walk to school, or carry your lunch??”

“No??”

Well OK maybe that last question was a fib. I mentioned that my friend (who had long left for his appointment) was getting hearing aids and that I might need some later on. Of course, I know I’ve had some hearing loss due to many rounds of ammunition shot during target practice when I was a kid, all of course with no hearing protection. “Better start the paperwork!” the nice lady said. Then she described what sounded like a few thousand pounds worth of forms that would be needed. Oh well, I don’t need them right now; at least not today. When I got home, my Beautiful Girlfriend was in her rocking chair, facing away from me, playing a game on her iPad when she uttered something like, “jermla brib da cam makka jaboo gleg HEARING AIDS??” “What’s this about hearing aids?” I replied. She repeated and asked if I thought the VA could help me get hearing aids. “I dunno, maybe,” I answered. “Don’t quite need them yet…”

My friend insisted on buying me lunch on the way home, and I had a nice Double Bacon Death Burger from a well known fast food joint. It was delicious but I was fully aware that I would soon fall victim to yet another senior anomaly: Instant Obesity. Something very unfair happened some years ago, when I noticed that whatever I ate almost instantly added pounds to my body. Not fair, not funny.

My favorite joking anomaly though, is the brain – hiney connection. I joke about it because I find it amusing, but it’s also a bit annoying at times. I’ll be sitting down, reading the paper or maybe watching the news, and then it occurs to me that I need to go to the pantry to get something for dinner. I get up, walk to the pantry, open the door, and stare blankly inside because I forgot why I needed to go the pantry. I go back to my sitting place, and as soon as I sit down I remember what I needed!! This strange brain – hiney connection is not limited to trips to the pantry, either. Sheesh!! Funny, but also frustrating at times.

Guess I’ll just keep being grateful for each successive trip around the sun. I really am fortunate, after all. I can still do pretty much everything I was able to do when I was 27; but often physical motion is accompanied by some snap-crackle-pop noises, and sometimes it hurts. My wife and I have some health challenges, but we are still basically doing very well. As far as material success, I’ve had all my wants fulfilled. Some of you have heard me say this before, but when I was a kid (20s or so) I stated to many friends, “all I want in life is the love of a beautiful woman, a home with enough land to grow food; and a kick-ass stereo.”

I have all those. Life is good.

One thing cool about being an old fart, I remember when they actually played movies like this on TV when I was very young. Still fun to watch in my professional opinion!!

Subscription Addiction?

I’m such a cheapskate.  No daily newspaper, no cable TV,  no super fast internet.

Say What??

Yep.  As I told you, I’m a cheapskate.  Well sometimes.  My beautiful girlfriend and I are in complete agreement about the newspaper and cable TV.  We used to get the paper, but it became a recycling headache.  We’ve changed from a fairly fat daily newspaper to a weekly local rag called The White Lake Beacon.  When we got daily delivery, the papers piled up and we kept paying for the paper lady to keep bringing more.  Then we quit and started gaining weight from the loss of regular exercise that came with hauling all that paper to the recycling center (a.k.a. “the dump”).

Well, OK, maybe that’s not really why be started gaining weight…

My Honey Pie and I have always agreed that TV should be free, like the radio. Then, way back in about 1992 or so; our family’s TV time dropped to a bare minimum. You see, that’s when our daughter decided to slack off on homework.  She started flunking math, but it was all our fault really. We would have the TV on when the kids got home from school; and it became a pretty important diversion. But when the school grades began to slide into the sewer; we tried rationing TV. We’d say really wise things like, “no TV till your homework’s done!!”  That gave both of our wonderful offspring remarkable energy, and they’d whoosh through whatever homework they had so they could catch their favorite shows.  Of course, the result was substandard work.  Better, but still pretty lousy.  Mind you, their very important programs came from our antenna, without a cable subscription.  Anyway, we ended up doing THE UNTHINKABLE!!  We laid down the law:

No TV from Monday through Thursday; unless there is some special event or a program that constitutes required viewing for school.  Video games are considered TV time.  Friday night and Saturdays are free time, Sunday TV depends on the amount of homework.

Needless to say, when we first uttered these bone-chilling rules the kids were mortified.  “Will you tape (remember VCRs?) our shows???” they pouted.  “OK,” we conceded, “but only if you promise to bring the grades up.”  So they did.  And after about a month, they quit caring about what was on TV.  And even more ridiculous, they started reading for fun.  Holy cow!!  Now, don’t get me wrong, I like vegging in front of the tube and I do have favorite shows.  But Mom and I both have addictive natures, and we are very much aware that if we actually paid for TV we would feel the need to watch more.  Speaking of vegging, I had to look up the spelling…  I guess I spelled it right but it looks like “egging” with a “v” in front to me.   English… whatchya gonna do?

Anyway…

Fast forward to 2004, when Aunt Joyce came to live with us. She got us hooked on NCIS and CSI.  CSI is off the air now, but NCIS has like 3 different flavors to choose from, and we love every one of them. Still; we’re talking free TV.  I do have to confess a bit here:  we upgraded our “high speed wireless” internet, which was slightly better than dial-up; to some screaming fast Comcast internet.  A whopping 25 Mbps!!  OK so that’s not screaming fast… but I’m a cheapskate, remember??   Then I made the mistake of getting a trial version of Netflix when my Beautiful Girlfriend was recovering from knee surgery.  We’re way past the trial period now; although we go for the rock-bottom rate of $8.99 a month.  OK… more confessions we do have a few dollars going out the door for entertainment.  With the internet, contributions to PBS, Netflix, and CBS All Access (sometimes channel 3 is naughty and won’t come in worth a poop), we pay a whopping $51 a month for more than enough TV.

As I listen to more and more folks talk about shows on platforms like HBO Max, Amazon Prime, Disney, and so on; I’m thinking there appears to be a growing subscription addiction in our culture.  More and more people are paying for more and more internet and TV stuff.  And of course there also seem to be lots of folks who simply must have the latest gadgets to watch their shows or play their games. It’s getting to the point where there’s really no need to go outside anymore with all the junk you can watch on TV or all the interactive gaming you can do in high-speed internet.  I also saw a report a while back (on TV of course) that more and more Americans are suffering from vitamin D deficiency.  So they’re rattling off all the ways you can get more vitamin D in your diet.  Well guess what folks, back in the “old days,” meaning before the internet and cable TV, vitamin D was called “the sunshine vitamin.”  In other words, your body actually makes vitamin D when you’re outside in the day time.   Is that a weird idea or what??  Going outside I mean…  But then, even when folks do go outside, you can see all too many of them fixated on their handheld doohicky thingamabobs.

Guess I’m a dinosaur.  I still love the Beatles and The Three Stooges.  We heat with firewood.  We grow organic vegetables.  We do stuff with friends that does not involve electronic gadgets.  And so far, I have not become so enmeshed in the habit of watching the tube that I have to worry about video-addictive behavior problems.  Perhaps recovery groups will spring from this trend… you know, places that are actually out of the home where people can discuss their multimedia dependencies with others, and maybe even have some real-time interaction with live bodies.  And if I ever become one of those who is hopelessly addicted to TV, etc., I hope I have the courage to change the things I can.  I’ll go to my first meeting, clutch my cup of coffee, and say the magically freeing words:

“Hi, my name is Ken, and I’m a vidiot.”

When our grandsons have a tradition of watching cartoons before bed time.  Prehistoric cartoons, of course!!

Important Notice: Upcoming Inspections

Note:  This notice has been circulated to everyone who has pockets, pocket books, mailboxes, or ice in their driveway.  Please read carefully and follow the instructions.

My Fellow Colleagues,

In these uncertain economic times we must strive to defeat the competition both before and after they are finished watching their favorite movies and / or cooking programs. Therefore, it is with great implosion that I urge all of you to apply an exorbitant amount of effort toward our long discontinued standard of excellence.

In striving toward the spirit of this year’s successful yet spiritually degrading development plan, we are rolling out what we believe is an innovative approach to corporate indecency with our new motto: Strength Through Costly Mistakes, or STCM.

To facilitate Phase 1 of this plan, Zelden Bilgehammer of Quality Infusions, Inc. will be arriving soon to inspect the cambernackles. Please ensure that all edible Click Wrapper standards are well concealed and thoroughly hyphenated before Zelden’s infestation.  As a reminder, the entire Click Line will be down for maintenance during this inspection; since all the Snooglebockers are on their vacation to Jupiter to see the flying cows.  I hope they have a great time!!  I can smell the rancid cows from here!!  Let’s just hope they don’t bring back any rottage cheese.  That stuff is nasty, am I right??

But I digress…

During this exercise, please note that cambernackles will heretofore be inspected on the 3rd Tuesday of each week, twice monthly, with liberty and justice for all. This information may be shared freely with herds of wild businessmen, or any and all individuals whose names rhyme with “lumberjack,” as they would appear when divided by the pertinent day of the month.

For example: on the 1st Tuesday of 2022, the week begins with the letter R. It follows then, that you may share this with people who have names like:

Rudence Cumberjack

Rumby Cambersnorck

Royven Snanderjunk

And of course Roopy Wofflenick.

Note that the inverse modification standard never applies. None of these stick flingers are employed at this time, so sharing the inflammation can only enhance our deprivation protocol.

If you have any questions regarding this modulation, please insert two nickles and eleven dimes. I’d very much like you to tell me about the case you’re working on.  After all, your toaster is probably orange with chrome crumb fenders.  The chicken tenders have escaped the restaurant and are now stealing cars.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation in this urgent flea popping contest.

Sincerely,

Norvis Pimpleburger
Chief Inspection Officer
Feline Antler Fabrication Dept.

“If you want something done, don’t remove the cat’s antlers.” – Milton Wildpockets

——————————————————————–

On the other hand, we could just make with the jumpin’ jive and swing it!!

The Trouble With English

Hello Ladles and Jelly Spoons,

Every once in a while, I spend a little time thinking about words. Everyone has of course learned various words over the years… but I find myself thinking about the weird ones. Words like adz, and affable, and even crapulous. My grandmother often sat and read the dictionary, just for the enjoyment of it. She never read a single word of “Happy Friday!!!” though, which is probably just as well. She might get frightened at some of the silly words I invent while writing this silly blog thing.

When it comes right down to it, English is a rather odd language. Little wonder that people of the world find English difficult to learn. So many rules like ” I before E except after C, unless pronounced A as in neighbor and weigh.” And of course we have so many words that are spelled completely differently but sound very much the same. Sew with that in mind, eye wood like two continue this episode of Happy Fry Day bye you sing words that will bee spelled correctly, but are not necessarily used proper lee in a send tense.

Four egg sample, the word “ewe” sounds the same as “you” but a “ewe” is a female sheep, and of coarse you no exactly watt ewe are eye hope. Their is all sew a “yew” that is a type of bush!! Eye yam knot shore that any won kin even reed some thing like this. Four many pee pull, trying two reed words that dew knot bee long two gather is moor like jumping threw a window while there pants are on fire. They simply kin knot bring themselves two dew it. And eye four one don’t blame them won little bit.

Sew my friends, pleas try to right with proper you sage. When eye sea words with apostrophes that don’t bee long in them, it makes me wander wear that person’s brain flue off two. Yew no, like when sum won is selling sum thing, and they have a big sine that says, “Freshly Picked Pear’s” oar sum thing like that. My question two a sine like that is, “Freshly Picked Pear’s what??” Yew sea, an apostrophe is never used when a noun is plural, but only to show possession oar may bee as a contraction. Like, “eye wood like you two meat my pear’s Uncle Bartlett” for possession; or “my pear’s got a big fat worm in it,” as a contraction. And yes, eye yam fully a wear that a pair probably does knot have an uncle. But booboos like these types of things make me cry inside, but I dew get over it after much less thyme than I used two.

Any way, that’s probably enough strange use of words from the likes of me. Eye true lee hope eye have knot harmed yore brain things two bad lee bye righting awl these words in sand dances that suffer from horribly pour usage. Sew, eye wheel stop this write now sew yore brain kin have a rest.

Until next thyme then, pleas have a ferry Happy Day.

Peas, Love, and Hogs,

Ken “Eye Don’t No How Two Spell” Broyvington

a.k.a. “Mustard Lips Mack”

These three gents could really swing it… please enjoy the “Alphabet Song.”

Acronyms? No!! OMG!! WTF??!!

It seems nobody uses complete words anymore. At least, this has become normal while texting or instant messaging. TY means “thank you,” OMG means “Oh My God,” and then there’s the naughty one of WTF, which of course means “Where’s The Fish,”… or something. Many people say these are acronyms; but last I knew, an acronym was formed when you used the initials of several words to make yet another word. Being the curious noodle head that I am, I had to look it up. If you can’t make a real word, then it’s at least something with vowels and consonants mixed together into a form you can actually read and pronounce. NATO, UNICEF, and UNESCO are some examples.

So things like OMG and LOL are actually examples of initialism; of which I had never known until I started writing this “Happy Friday!!!” I’ll probably continue to refer to the text thingies as acronyms, because if I call them initialisms, people will probably wonder if I’m some sort of subversive nerd clown geek bug biter weirdo person.

Anyway…

I’m retired now, but we used an instant messaging program at work pretty extensively. It could also be a source of amusement, for me at least. I used it as a stress buster and sent obscure ditties to my friends like: “I probably won’t put my nose in the toaster today,” or maybe “Listen!! Do you smell something?? I can’t even see in here with all this noise!!” I copy the first line and send it to a friend; then paste it into message windows for several other friends. Must help them smile, because I’d get yelled at when I got too busy to send out the sillies. “Hey Ken,” they’d complain, “where’s my silly text for today??”

The chat program can also have legitimate work purposes, like gathering information. I used it regularly to ask quick questions. Most people were pretty considerate and answer quickly; but one of my favorite times was waiting for the other person to reply and they’d say, “brb,” for “be right back.” And then of course they forgot about you. So, I found myself texting people more and more often with the words: “OK to call?” Don’t get me wrong, texting can be useful, but many, many times it is more useful to actually speak into a phone. Much faster too really. Dunno about you, but even though I can type quickly, I can say the words way faster than I can type them.

Then you have the people who use abbreviations (initialisms? acronyms?) so frequently that communication grinds to a halt. For example, I was trying to pick a cohort’s brain about a computer problem. I typed what I thought the solution was, and his reply was, “imho, yes.” “Imho?” I typed back. Then I teased him and texted, “mgype? E I E I O??” Finally I broke down and asked him what “imho” means, and he replied “in my humble opinion.”  Sheesh!! So is this the way of the future? People are just gonna make up stuff in short hand and expect the other person to understand? I mean, Oh My God!! Where’s The Fish??

I still send out silly stuff; but since I’m no longer at work I enjoy sending messages to friends and family.  You know, important texts like, “My nostrils have been coated with varnish again,” or maybe, “why don’t we go out for a nice cup of cabbage and celebrate the arrival of the New Dust Amplifiers?” I’ll shy away from the abbreviations, thank you very much.

If you don’t like it, SMT!! (Smell My Toes!!)

And now for something… completely different: