Dust Flingers Don’t Dunk Donuts (Or Do They??)

Hello Dust Flingers,

As none of you are able to hear, this Sunday marks yet another period of a time change in this part of our universe.  Because of this radical shift in sunrise and sunset times, all humans will wonder what day it really is and will probably try to spit small chunks of Tootsie Rolls out of their car windows while driving backwards into the firewood pile.

Therefore, I have appointed myself to inform none of you that all new banana recipes should be turned in to the Front Sniffing Room before 12:47 p.m. on Tuesday, August 72, 19127.  Those of you who think you can merely squawk and sneeze loudly instead of dunking donuts down deeply into dense but delicious Dingly Drinks will be sent to live with the Carnivorous Cranberry Credit Card Cultivators.

That oughta show ’em who’s crinkly!!

None of you may remember the hatchling song; the words of which were “stolen” by Gus Parbnackle during the second Coat Hanger Revolt of 1924.  This enjoyable malady has been renewed during the last 28 microseconds and is now sung to the tune of “Inna Gadda Da Vida”:

Guess who barfed on my shoes today??
Do dah, do dah!!
Hatchlings shouldn’t act this way!
Oh do dah day…

If you find it necessary to rekindle the spirit which is found to be both blue and wormy; please run directly to your neighbors and ask them to return the crescent wrench your uncle borrowed shortly before dinner last Wednesday morning at precisely 4 PM.  It may be wrinkly from soaking in the Cream of Marshmallow Soup for 13 days, but that should not deter you from accepting the responsibility of teaching slimy, hairy chickens how to yodel during Disney movies.

Come now, don’t you remember the terrible consequences from the last time you tried to clean your ventricles by drinking 134 millimeters of petrified braunschweiger??  You see, it doesn’t matter that you slathered it onto caraway seeded rye with just a little mayo and some yellow mustard and HOLY MOLY I’m suddenly getting a craving for some freshly smoked shrimp on the half shell!!  Why would you taunt me in such a manner??  Don’t you have any respect for Lando The Lizard’s self esteem??  I doubt he’ll ever visit here again at snack time!!

I hope you’re happy!!

In summary, I must remind you not to rub sandpaper inside your mucous membranes. Fortunately, that practice has been abandoned long ago due to the over abundance of spaghetti in water fountains made by Mattel.

Therefore I beseech unto you:  Please remember that:

A) you can pick radishes before they are ripe and they will still be red,

9) Being flatulent is not necessarily helpful during a job interview.

@!)  When Santa sees those dog toenails you’ve been collecting; he’ll likely ask where you got those fancy display cases.

Thank you for being who you are. After all, if you weren’t you, you wouldn’t be. That would be very confusing to you now wouldn’t it??

My toes look like morel mushrooms again!!

Happy Bozo Express,

Zibnick G. Amplegrane
a.k.a. “Monty the Moth Rancher”

Now, as Rocket J. Squirrel used to say, “now here’s something we hope you’ll really like!!”

The Invisible Private Eye Monster

‘Tis the season for monsters ya know. We’re pretty sure we are plagued by one. Things keep coming up missing around here and we’re not sure who’s to blame. I mean hey, we are gentle people; and as far as we know we haven’t done anything mean to anyone… at least not on purpose. Nevertheless, stuff keeps vanishing when we least expect it. While deep in search the other day, in exasperation my Beautiful Girlfriend proclaimed, “I think we have a monster!!”

I have never seen this monster. Neither has she. Haven’t heard any nasty groans or growls… although yesterday there was a shocking “CRASH!! BONK BOnk bonk!!” that we had trouble identifying. Scared the living hoodlemonkers out of me!! And I don’t even know what hoodlemonkers are!! I leaped up and went searching for what might be lying in pieces somewhere. I was ready to blame this destruction on Freddy The Freeloader (our cat, Fred); but I didn’t find any evidence of broken stuff lying around. After a couple trips to various rooms, I discovered that the horrible crash emanated from the hand shower that sticks to the wall of the shower enclosure. It had come loose (again), and although there was no damage it sure made one heck of a noise. We rarely use it, it works off a little valve off the main shower head and sticks to the wall of the shower enclosure with a very expensive (cheap junk) suction cup thingy. I’ve tried to make it stick better by putting a little water on the surface of the suction cup doomaflochy (pardon my technical talk). That worked for a little while. Then I used a tiny bit of olive oil. That worked for a few months. This time I tried some shampoo. Who knows?? Maybe it will stay put for a bit.

So the monster probably did not make the shower head fall down.

I’m gonna go out on a limb here though and blame the clutter bomb fragments that adorn our garage on this invisible monster. Anyone else out there have a favorite tool, then go to actually use it, and it’s nowhere to be found? So what’s my solution? Go to the store for a replacement. This also happens with nails, screws, caulk, caulking guns, packages of sandpaper, paint… you name it. The monster hides all these things from me. Then when I come home with replacement stuff, I find the original “missing” things about a week or so after the project is complete. And of course they’re all right where I left them. We’ve embarked on a few cleansing missions though, and let’s just say that the local Rescue Mission Thrift Store has benefited from our accumulations of goofs.

My Lovely Bride came home from a short shopping jaunt yesterday, and said, “I bought 3 more pair of reading glasses!” “OK…,” I replied. “They keep vanishing!!” she explained. “Must be the monster!!” I said. “Yes!!” she retorted. Now I have to admit that I’ve made some big mistakes during our 48 years of marriage, but I wasn’t about to point out that she has approximately 174 pairs of glasses in the house already. I’m not as dumb as I look, you see. And OK maybe I’m exaggerating just a bit, but we do have several. Some of them are mine!!

We were watching the news today, and I looked across the room on the windowsill. I blurted out,“Hey Honey, there’s some glasses over there!” “Where the heck did those come from??” she wondered. “Maybe the monster put them there.” I responded. After the news was over, I was soliciting ideas for this week’s “Happy Friday!!!” We were both on the same wavelength regarding this mysterious monster as a main topic; but I was looking for a name. “The Private Eye Monster,” my Dear Honey offered. “How did you get that?” I wondered; thinking aloud that it sounded like the monster was a detective or something.

“No,” she explained, “it keeps stealing my private eyes!!”

And now for some seasonal monster cartoon fun.

I Killed The Mice And We Ate The Maus (and it was delicious!!)

Many moons ago, when our kids still lived at home, I grew some pretty doggone wonderful carrots. I’ve been making garden beds instead of rows to grow as much food as possible in my small plot. In those days, the soil was relatively weed free and I was able to get some pretty nice carrot beds which I’d cover with a nice layer of leaves just before the snow came. A bit labor intensive at first but once the carrots were established it was pretty much smooth sailing. The result was several harvests of candy sweet carrots just sitting in the beds waiting for me pretty much all winter.

Fast forward several years, and after allowing weeds to thrive the garden, well, let’s just say the term “labor intensive” grew several magnitudes larger. Those of you who know about gardening may have guessed why. Yep, I let too many weeds scatter their seeds in the dirt. There’s an old saying that refers to this blunder: “one year of seeds, seven years of weeds.” So there I was, on my hands and knees, carefully removing weeds from the carrot bed, sometimes using the scissors on my Swiss army knife to snip away any weeds that were too close to baby carrot seedlings to be yanked, because yanking that closely would rip the poor baby carrots out too and they are so very tiny and jeez I didn’t want to go through all the effort of planting and then watch them get crowded out by weeds like last year when I just completely gave up and there was no way that was gonna happen this time thank you very much and yes now it’s time to stop with the run-on sentence awreddy.

All those many afternoons (there were several) of tending the carrots paid off!! Lush foliage, and very nice sized roots. I picked a monster a few days ago that was literally over 3 inches in diameter near the top, and it tasted pretty darn good!! Then a horrible thing started happening. Something started nibbling the greens; and I didn’t find that amusing. Whatever it was had chomped off the greens about a foot off the ground; so I thought maybe a bunny or a chipmunk was trapped inside the fence. I put out a small live trap for a few days, but nothing. Examined the soil carefully for tracks but I couldn’t see any signs, so I began to suspect mice.

I hauled out my old Victor mouse traps and used my old “you ain’t licking my bait and gettin’ away” trick: I tied a small piece of walnut on the bait pan with some sewing thread. They can’t resist gnawing at the walnut, which of course causes them to tug a bit and the trap sends them to Mouse Heaven. I’ve gotten 5 so far and I’ll keep setting traps till I quit getting them. I do feel bad about killing them… I apologize as I remove their dead bodies from the trap and send them flying in to the woods while I utter a prayer in their behalf. Hey, mice gotta eat too ya know!!

They are too small to eat in my opinion; but if the end of the world comes, hey, who knows?? In the meantime, our family really does enjoy eating Maus (pronounced mouse). I made some Wednesday as a matter of fact. No mouse meat or any other kind of meat in Maus though. It’s really delicious with a couple of eggs fried over easy on top. Also very good with Norwegian meatballs and gravy. The recipe below is my rendition in honor of Mrs. Spoelma, the nice old Dutch lady that lived next door when my Beautiful Girlfriend was pregnant with our first child. She brought us a container of it and I asked “what’s in it?” She didn’t have a recipe but here’s what I do, and it is very, very good. Please note that the quantities are approximate, you can always adjust to your liking.

Maus: Delicious Mashed Potatoes, Kale, Barley and Onion


Potatoes : enough to fill a 6 quart pot a bit more than halfway when diced (we do not peel ours)

Barley: ½ cup hulled barley (pearled barley is OK but not as nutritious as hulled)

Kale: 3 – 4 tightly packed cups, chopped

Onion: one large yellow onion (about the size of a small apple) or 4 or 5 small onions, diced

½ stick of salted butter

½ cup of milk

salt to taste

Potatoes, barley, and kale will be cooked in separate pots.

Add more than enough water to the barley to cover, at least 2 inches higher than the barley. Boil the barley until tender, then drain, cover and set aside.

Add 1 cup water to the kale, and cover. Bring to boil, turn off heat after 2 or 3 minutes of boiling. Toss the onions in with the kale; stir to mix well, and cover again, let that sit for about 5 minutes. The heat will cook the onions just enough. Drain, then set aside.

Wash and dice enough potatoes to fill a 6 quart pot a bit more than half way (we leave the skins on). Fill with water till the potatoes are barely covered, and boil until tender, drain. Add butter and mash, adding milk and a dash or so of salt along the way. When the potatoes are creamy, add barley, kale and onions to the potatoes and mash together until mixed thoroughly.

OK, you’re done! Now, don’t just stand there, it’s time to eat!!

Speaking of Maus, here’s one I’ve never trapped nor eaten.

Zagnut Explosions

There are times when I want to roll on the floor with my tongue flapping in the breeze, all the while flailing my arms and legs about as if I my pants were on fire; but if you heard me say this you would probably know that I may be fooling and then you could chant “liar liar pants on fire nose as long as a telephone wire” with that silly singing voice you have and then of course I’d confess that you’re correct and my pants might actually catch fire because I was fooling the whole time.

Breathe… breathe…

OK, it’s like this, awright?? Very soon I will have to pay for car insurance. I would really rather buy candy or maybe a doughnut or something. Do you think you can use doughnuts to pay for car insurance? Or can candy be converted into fuel for small jet packs that do little more than disrupt public speakers and / or eggplant processing machines?

I’d really like to know where my flashlight is.

How may more insurance price increases do I really need to endure, I ask you? Don’t they know that I’d rather have them just hand me the money and say “thank you for being” and just let me be?? NOOoooo… they actually expect me to pay them because they are supposedly protecting me but if I don’t sign up for “unlimited” medical coverage (which I’m sure they will want to limit somewhere down the road) then they can watch Godzilla and King Kong fight over my car with me inside and my legs will soon have nasty monster bites which will cost lots of money at the medical place and, please excuse my use of rough language, but at times I’m really tired of people dying from COVID because they don’t want to do what science says is the right thing;  and I have absolutely no idea why I’m using both bold and italics for no apparent reason!! And there we go with yet another run-on sentence, and enough with the superfluous exclamation points awreddy!!!!!!!

Breathe… breathe…

Yes, yes, I know full well that there’s no free lunch, you don’t get something for nothing, a penny saved is a penny earned, a stitch in time saves nine, and you can’t milk a goat with a Crescent wrench. After all, nobody would be rushing to the farmers market to buy wrench cheese stitched with nine pennies for lunch or nothing. No, these are difficult times, so every free something is either saved or earned, and in time I’m pretty sure we’ll find out that goes for all nine of them. Harvey Ticknoodle would be rather annoyed at all this falderal and its associated fiddle dee dee; therefore I implore you not to implode while trying to get those last molecules of milkshake out of the spark plug sockets.

Please, please quit reaching for my Zagnut. You know how doggoned good those are with coffee, right??   MMmmmmm coffee… cream and sugar please… no… honey. No I didn’t call you Honey. Well OK you’re pretty nice but I’m not that kind of Zagnutarian. I just like honey in my coffee instead of sugar. OK Honey?? And if you don’t believe me, just try a Zagnut with your honeyed coffee and cream surprise leverage beverage.

While eating the coffee and drinking the Zagnut, nothing in this world will bother you for the entire 12 microseconds it takes for a hummingbird to sing “Oh What A Beautiful Flower Drink” during the last 12 innings of the World Series. That completely unfamiliar Zagnut aroma flavor will cause a sensory explosion the likes of which you’ll never scream to the Sheriff’s Office. You’ll feel refreshed, and of course you’ll be thoroughly Zagged. Only a Nut would deny this delicious cloud softening cable the chance to tinkle on the tastebud tours of Flampington, Indiana.

Well OK, now that I’ve vented a bit I feel quite a lot better. Thank goodness. Thought I was gonna have to get silly there for a minute.

Greens: Good For Your Heart

Although summer is my favorite time of year, autumn rates a very close second when I consider what’s happening in the garden. Most of the warm weather crops will get frosted to death soon; so the remaining harvest is, in large part, greens.

My beautiful girlfriend and I got hooked on greens as a result of living in Florida while I was in the Air Force. Southerners do love their greens: collards, turnip greens, beet greens, mustard greens…   We tried all of them and were smitten pretty much instantly; and when we moved up north we added Swiss chard to the fold. I recently surprised a lady at the grocery store when I noticed the beets she was buying had some very nice greens attached to them.  “Those are nice beet greens!  Do you eat them?”  I asked.  She was completely unaware that they were edible; and seemed interested in actually trying them.

Greens of one variety or another have been a staple in our garden for over 40 years. They are easy to grow and packed with nutrition. And of course, while we are eating our greens, we recite the Greens Eating Poem:

Greens!! Greens!! They’re good for your heart!!

The more you eat ‘em the more you’re smart!!

The more you’re smart, the better you feel,

So eat your greens with every meal!!

 (And eat clam chowder to make them louder!!)

Well maybe that’s not how the poem goes…

Anyway, greens are one of the most versatile vegetables for the simple fact that you can eat them just as soon as they start growing; and continue to harvest right up through winter. I garden intensively; meaning I grow a lot of food in a small space. I often purposely sow seeds for collards or kale a bit too thickly and thin them out as they germinate. The remaining seedlings are then allowed to grow a bit more, and I continue to harvest by thinning as the plants grow. The sprouts and / or young plants are a wonderful addition to any almost any dish, salad and stir-fry to name just two.   Just snip off the roots, rinse a bit, and toss them into whatever you like. I’ve even been known to use them as a substitute for lettuce on a sandwich.

Eventually my beds of greens will be thinned so there’s about a foot between plants. Many of them, like collards and kale for example, will thrive throughout the entire gardening season.   I often plant root crops in the beds with the greens.   The combination of leafy vegetables and root crops keeps weeds at bay while the vegetables thrive. Beds are also a good habitat for toads, spiders, and other beneficial creatures who keep pest insect damage to a minimum.

Swiss chard is a big favorite of ours.  It tastes very similar to spinach but will produce right up to winter. It’s frost hardy, but after the temp falls below 20 degrees F for awhile it will die. Therefore, the Swiss chard has to be completely harvested before the weather stays bitter cold. Kale and wild cabbage (ancestor to collards), though,will survive the entire winter. These two are among our favorites.  They’re good, hearty fare at the table either by themselves or mixed up in other dishes.  The flavor is pretty strong in summer but mellows nicely when the cool weather comes.  And besides, aren’t they just plain pretty?

On more than one occasion I’ve picked wild cabbage, kale, and also kohlrabi out of the snow. Although they appear to be dead in the garden they’re still green. When brought inside the effectiveness of their natural antifreeze shows up as they magically “come to life.” A good snow cover is welcome in the kale and wild cabbage beds, because snow protects their leaves from getting wind burn during the cold winter weather.  However, I’ve learned the hard way that it’s a good idea to mark where the beds are with some long sticks. It’s no fun shoveling snow around looking for your greens!

For those of you who are old enough to remember, Granny used to cook up a mess of collard greens pretty regularly on “The Beverly Hillbillies.”  I went hunting for some video of that;  didn’t find any.  However, I found this and rather enjoyed it.  Hope you do too.

Stan and Ollie Warm My Heart

Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away, there lived a boy named Me who amused himself for hours on end with old movies and short comedy films. The land was an obscure place called Long Island, New York. Due to the proximity of a very large city, our family enjoyed many TV stations that broadcast many entertainers, both very new (for the time) and very, very old.

Back then you could buy 3 candy bars for a quarter, dinosaurs sold gasoline; and if there was any mention of cellular phones, it would have been some strange communications device used by atomic monster amoebas. Radio programs would entertain whole families; but while listening one could do lots of other things while listening to shows like Fibber McGee and Molly or the Green Hornet. I arrived on this planet about 6 years after commercial TV came into bloom. By the time I learned English, though, I was completely hooked by all the cool stuff on the magic glowing box.

Looking back, I consider it quite a privilege to have grown up where I did. Local stations from New York City of course had nationally televised network shows, but they also had their own very entertaining local programs. All of these were broadcast live; which often made for interesting viewing. On top of all that, the New York stations had access to extensive collections of both silent movies and movies with sound.

Our parents did the best they could to encourage us kids to play outside. However, when it got dark early or if the weather was icky we’d be in the house. Often in desperation our Mom would say, “go watch television!!” Didn’t take much persuasion… and we enjoyed many hours of shows like the Three Stooges, Abbot and Costello, Looney Tunes, Marx Brothers, and Laurel and Hardy. The laughter from all these was a great escape for me. Things at home weren’t always pleasant (every home has its moments I suppose). I won’t go into any gory detail… but suffice it to say that comedy films gave me the healing touch of laughter I often desperately needed.

Fast forward to my own journey into parenthood; and of course I shared the joy of the “old guys” with our kids. Both our daughter and son know, for example, that Stan and Ollie were the first names of the famous comedy duo, Laurel and Hardy. Not sure if that had any bearing on what was to come, but our first grandson was named Oliver. Ollie is now 12, and we’ve already begun a second passing of the torch, so to speak. Both Oliver and his brother Gabe have had many laughs while watching some Laurel and Hardy shorts. Even a couple silent films! To my great delight, they both enjoy them greatly (thank you, YouTube).

Our daughter and son in law also have two dogs; Arrow and Stanley. Both are beautiful, loving creatures who greet us warmly every time we go to visit. And now of course, their family have their very own Stan and Ollie!!  So… long story longer; not only did Stan and Ollie warm my heart when I was a kid; but they continue to do so now that I’m older than compost.

In more ways than one!!

For those of you who have read this far, please enjoy this Laurel and Hardy short film. I have a feeling Stan and Ollie will lift your spirits, too.

If You Can’t Have The Heat, Go Out For Some Chicken!!

A very horrible, high-class, terrible yet luxurious thing happened to us about a month ago. Our oven died!! I was gonna cook something very important (in other words, I can’t remember want it was), and when I checked on the oven after the preheat, the oven just sat there with that silly room temperature look on its insides. I’ve dubbed all this sadness a “horrible, high-class, terrible yet luxurious thing” because all I have to do is turn on the news and I can plainly see that I am a very spoiled American. Much of the world would LOVE to have their only problem in life to be a broken cooking appliance!

Anyway, I cried and rolled on the floor for a few hours, thrashed about, filled my mouth with soapy water and sprayed it everywhere while yelling great howls of boo-hoo and ickety-boo; and of course none of that is actually true but it was nice fodder for a run-on sentence so I just threw all that in there for the halibut and any other fish that may wish to be included.

Then called our friendly neighborhood repair folks to come to the rescue.

When the guy arrived, I showed him what was going on: everything seemed like it wanted to work, but no heat from the electric ouch elements. “I dunno… maybe a fuse or something??” I offered. Then I stepped back and let the guy do his thing. After about 20 minutes, he said, “looks like your computer is dead. I’ll have to go back to the shop to see if I can find one.” The retired electronic service guy who still lives inside my brain was somewhat in disagreement, but hey, I called the experts for a reason (the reason: I didn’t wanna mess with it!!) so I let it go. I mean hey, the oven is 15 years old and anything is possible.

Got a call a couple days later. “Ken, we can’t find that oven control computer board anywhere. I mean, it’s supposedly still available but nobody has stock.,” my trusted repair guy told me. “Oh flarn..,” I sighed. And yes maybe I used a stronger word, but hey, flarn is pretty powerful, right?? “So the stove is 15 years old, time for a new one?” I asked. “Yeah probably,” he replied, “but because of the chip shortage, everybody has been waiting for months to get parts. I can order you one but I have no idea when it will come in.” “OK, please get one on order for me,” I responded.

Joni Mitchell sang “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got till it’s gone.” Ain’t that the truth? Grandsons came to visit; and a regular favorite is frozen pizza. My Beautiful Girlfriend lamented, “oh crap!! We don’t have an oven!!” “It’s OK,” I reassured, “Pizza Hut has an oven.” And they do!! So we did what any other spoiled American would do, we ordered take out pizza. Then came the time when we were hankering for some chicken. Lee’s has chicken!! Pretty darn good too!! And if you go on Tuesdays, you can get two, 2-piece senior meals with mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and biscuits for ten bucks!! Oh and have you had their pot pies? MMmmmm….

Well nearly a month went by, and no word about a new stove. So again, this spoiled American guy took the high-class route and went hunting for a new stove online. Of course I was being picky… I wanted to stick with American made; and our service folks recommended GE as the top choice. Then we wanted the same basic style: a white drop-in range with glass cooktop. Several places said they had stoves, but when I called to verify stock, there was a resounding NOPE each time. Again, I exclaimed, “FLARN!!”

Finally I decided to break down and put my electronic service guy pants back on and went hunting for an oven control board. Several sites in the U.S. said there was stock, but again after following up it was a big goose egg. My last-ditch effort involved hunting for alternate part numbers and BINGO!! There was an outfit with one in stock, in Ontario, Canada!! I called and the very friendly guy on the other end reassured me that yes they did indeed have one; and offered to take my credit card info over the phone (never do that, folks!!). I thanked him profusely and told him I’d order online. “Oh, OK, perfect,” he said. I ordered the $330 part (way cheaper than a $1500 stove), and it was at my house in less than a week.

With much grunting and wondering I was able to pull the oven out and replace the board. Feeling pretty good about myself, I turned the breaker back on and did a quick test. No heat. I cried again, weeping buckets of tears which I collected and tossed into the air while howling my sadness to the tune of The Funeral March. After a few milliseconds of this whining and saying FLARN a few more times, I turned the breaker off and commenced to remove the back covers to hunt for that blasted fuse I thought might be the original problem.

Yep!! I bypassed the fuse by using a plastic chip-clip to squish the leads together and did another test. This time when I touched the electric ouch element it lived up to its name I just made up! Houston, we have HEAT!! Called Alex Appliance in the Heights. Those folks have always been there for us in a pinch. “Yes, we have the fuse. But we only have the Whirlpool one. It’s fifty bucks.” Got the part, slapped it in, and did the electric ouch test once more for good measure. Success!! I told my eagerly waiting Lovely Wife Lady the news as she sat on the couch, “OK, we’re good!! A little expensive… I don’t remember ever spending $380 on a fuse.” “Huh??” she queried. “Well, $330 for the control board, and $50 for the fuse…”

Called my friends at the repair shop and told them the good news. The nice lady who takes the phone calls asked me how upset I was… and I blatantly and (not even) forcefully said, “not at all!! This was a completely human mistake. Just wanted you to know so that isn’t overlooked if you ever run across it again.” I went on to explain that hey, even though I considered myself pretty good while I was working, I made my share of mistakes. I really was not at all upset.

She was very relieved and then asked me, “Ken, would you like a job??”

I told her no thanks, but if I did want a job, it could be fun to work here maybe. As an observer anyway.

English The Mangle I Enjoy

Dear Friends,

I am hope you are not cry of the way my typing put words to the eyes of you. I am decide that because the news is hurt my nostrils very ouch this month year, I have been wanted to make laugh with bad of the English using practice (or maybe malpractice). Also seldom but often I must invent words while the fingers slap this keyboard to noggle your hinterbloops until your smiling jumps backward during the Autumn Rainfall Falderal (A.R.F.). In edition butt all sew, I may place words that sound like watt I mean but are knot the write words. So today I am break from nobody’s Bahama Llamas without forcefully project flotation of sinking waterlogged pretzel carriers. You, of all, people. Know what I mean? Isn’t it confusing! When someone punctuates a sentence! Incorrectly even though it is really? A sentence fragment?? And therefore not a sentence? At all??

This instantly although very, very, slowly reminds me of the bad usage. Of commas. Or the forgetting. Of them. For the example, I will bring to your face the intentions of my example that below this typing of total barf-a-roo is crumpling.

Hear now is foopy example of a comma prevention of death of elders:

Let’s eat Grandma!! (Are we to really devour Grandma??)

Let’s eat, Grandma!! (Oh Holy Wow!! C’mon Grandma, let’s stuff face!!)

So as you can see, Grandma’s life was saved by the insertion of a comma into the sentence; because it’s well known that cannibals have always been stopped dead in their tracks by commas while small birds flopped luminously through inverted snack tables made of inferior materials that have often been referred to as pure junk, but what the hey we got them at BugMart for the mere price of $12.37 with tax and why not try them out on those silly birds who obviously don’t even know they’re stuck in this ridiculous run-on sentence which is yet another example of very bad use of sentence structure and therefore slapping impudence in the face of any professor who may be reading this on the subway.

Thank you.

Yew sea, my goal in this small part of my life is two inject poorly amplified participles into the brains of others while they are going working on burned toast while saying things like “hey all these participles are making my face say things I normally wood knot say.” And if I have convinced both of you to slurp loudly while eating a stalk of salary, well of coarse I have accomplished my task of beaming subliminal sectional sofa repair instructions into your daily speech repertoire.

You may thank me someday for this.

I must Finnish this silly scribbling now, as I fear that any further exposure to such garbonkulous yet stinky crabless salad may damage your hematoma. Sew I will clothes with the old saying that I invented many yargons ago but has failed to become a meme:

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

Thank you, and please slide safely through the slimy hallways of life.

Yours with no socks,

Rambledork G. Phlegmfinder

a.k.a. “Herbert The Human Cat”

No News Can Be Good News

I’ve always been a bit of a news junkie. Been that way ever since I can remember really… I even remember when Berlin Wall was being built. I was the ripe old age of 6 at the time. Unfortunately, most of the news we see in the media is not very pleasant these days. Maybe it never was. Regardless, I think I’ve been paying a little too much attention and it’s starting to hurt me. There really is lots of very good news in this world, but sadly not nearly enough of it is reported in the mainstream media.

Therefore I’ve decided not to focus so much on what needs to be changed in the world, but rather try to focus on what needs to be changed in me. Specifically, I may (or may not) try to distract myself by squirting copious amounts spicy brown mustard into my nostrils every time I get the urge to watch the news. There’s actually a clinical name for this method; which I just made up. Yes my friends, I’ve named it “No News Mustard Nose.” This is not to be confused with The Beatles’ song “Mean Mr. Mustard,” although I really do enjoy that tune. However, when my nostrils are full of mustard I simply do not feel very musical.

In order to further my journey into serenity and good mental health; I’m also doing my best not to indulge in negativity. Perhaps I could achieve this by loudly blowing bubbles in a glass of chocolate milk every time someone wants to utter sounds of prejudice, racism, or misogyny (to name a few). I could even try using a straw!! This could be enhanced by humming loudly into the straw; and thereby making some very musical bubbling action. If the negative yammering continues, I could take a quick break from the bubbling and loudly proclaim, “My Musical Milk Makes Me Most Merry!!” And of course I would resume with the brightly bubbly ballad; only much louder.

I’ve heard that some folks find happiness by purchasing things. Well I already have too much stuff; but perhaps I could go shopping for such luxury items as chocolate covered herring fillets; or maybe some nonexplosive macaroni and cheese for a change. I’ve always disliked macaroni explosions. Takes weeks to get the stuff out of the crooks and nannies of my kitchen. Of course I could instead try to find something useful like a solar powered paper clip dispenser; or there’s always that right handed / left handed (for those who are ambivalent) matching set of metric screwdrivers I’ve never wanted. Maybe I won’t go shopping at all, but rather treat myself and My Beautiful Girlfriend to an elegant dinner of Fish Head Surprise with Mama Baloopa’s Banana Gravy. Oh and let’s not forget the famous Cinnamon Raisin Eggplant Pie Ala Mode for dessert!! I hear it’s the latest thing in the suburbs of Sasquatch, New Yingleton.

My friends, I decided to make silly tonight due to the advent of a noteworthy anniversary of a truly horrible event. There will be lots of opinions given about why the attacks occurred on September 11, 2001. Lots of memorial ceremonies, but also, sadly, some hate speech will likely be strewn about during all the inevitable commentary. I will watch none of it. I will simply wing up prayers for those who lost loved ones, and I’ll continue to pray for all of us on this planet. We’re all in this together after all. Perhaps there will come a time when humanity can really make love and not war. Being the idealist that I am, I’ll continue to cling to the hope that we can learn from history rather than continuously repeat it.

Until then, if you’re at my house when the news comes on, just look the other way when the mustard starts to flow; and maybe plug your ears when I reach for the chocolate milk and my straw. Then stick around for the Fish Head Eggplant Pie Ala Mode!! It’s um… well it’s really pretty disgusting.

On the other hand, you have very silly diversions…

Delightfully Dreadful Dental Demolition

I have a severe complaint that is never to be rectified because what I’d like to complain about is this getting old stuff; which as many of you know is not for cowards but Holy Farlupa it sure would be nice if once in a while I could just coast for about 30 years and not have to worry about my body falling apart but it just doesn’t work that way and OK now it’s time for this run-on sentence to cease and desist this very instant.


So there I was, minding my own business, eating something delicious (I have no idea what it was but I’m sure it was good because I like to eat good things) and then OW!! My tooth hurts!! My molar on my lower left side. A root canal crown kind of tooth. Then I say to myself, “Oh poopy caca doodoo, what the HECKAMALOOKEY is this all about??” So I push it around and it feels better when I push downward. Then I notice a bulge in the gum near the tooth and I scratch it open with my fingernail (gross… I know) and that allows icky stuff to ooze out and then I rinse with Listerine and VOILA!! Feels much better.

For a while…

Then I say to myself, “Hey you with the face!! Try rinsing every day with the Listerine juice and kill what appears to be a tooth infection!!” So I did that for a few weeks, and it got better.

For a while…

Then I went to the dentist for a checkup and told them about this tooth and they told me the horrible news: “It needs to come out.” Upon hearing this I said, “Is there nothing that can be done??” “No, it’s abscessed, it needs to come out. But we can replace it with an implant.” “How much for that?” I asked. “$7500.” was the reply. My reply: “CRAP (well, I actually used a stronger word)!! No, don’t think I’m gonna do that…” This news made me rather sad, as the tooth’s neighbor (another molar) had been yanked many years ago, so that would leave a rather large open spot on the lower left side of my jaw. I mentioned to the dentist that I thought I’d made some progress with the infection and he said, “well sounds like you want to limp with it for a bit. If anything changes we’ll schedule an appointment for you with the oral sturgeon.” “OK,” I repled, followed with a large, silent “OH NO!! I have NO INTEREST in oral sturgeony!! FOOEY POOP SNAGFOP MASHTABORK ROOZLESNORKEN!!” OK I may have used other, more “colorful” words to express my sadness. Oh and for those who don’t know, an oral sturgeon is my way of describing a slimy fish doctor who sturgically sucks teeth out of people.

After a couple weeks of on and off success, I finally relented and got the oral sturgeony appointment. Now that I’m retired, I rather enjoy not listening to an alarm clock yelling at my brain to get my hiney out of bed. Yesterday, however, I had to wake up at 6:30 AM in order to make the 8:20 AM appointment. I enjoyed that very much. Got cleaned up, had some breakfast, got a little nauseous afterward. Anxiety I guess. Hopped in the car and arrived in the office about 15 minutes early. Then I enjoyed waiting for almost an hour to get my tooth removed. As the anxiety built up, Someone Upstairs must have been looking out for me because there was only me and one other guy across the room from me; and he decided I needed to hear his life story. Believe it or not, it actually calmed me down!

The moment of truth arrived and I sat in the chair waiting for the fun to begin. The oral sturgeon and his assistant were not slimy fish at all, and did their best to calm me down. First some novocaine shots (I love those!! NOT!!). Then they put this wheel chock thing in the right side of my jaw to keep it open. Time for more nausea!! “We can do this another time if you don’t feel well,” the oral sturgeon said. “Oh no,” I said, “just gimme a minute.” The rest of the procedure was actually very delightful. First the oral sturgeon jumped on my chest and started slamming my jaw with a pick axe. Then there was drilling… lots of drilling… I think he was looking for valuable minerals that “might” be embedded in my jawbone. Next was the jackhammer… Then came the rusty pliers and the melodious crunching and crackling of tooth fragments being yanked out of my face. Finally they stitched me up and told me not to eat crunchy or chewy stuff for 7 years, then crammed some gauze in my jaw to stop the blood from gushing all over the floor.

I suppose it’s possible I slightly exaggerated the actual extraction process… but hey, I just wanted to prepare any of you youngsters who still have all your chompers for what may be awaiting you as you age. I was worried that I’d be holding my jaw and writhing in pain for days; but it’s healing up quite nicely.

So, how was YOUR week??