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.

NOW!!

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??

Conversational Frivolities

This week, I’ve decided to just make funny with a couple conversational snippets from hither and yonder. If you don’t agree with that conflagration, please e-mail your nearest utility pole with “Tree Bark” in the subject, then print it and show it to the nearest tree to see how long it takes for the tree to make a barking noise. You may be amazed at how long it takes!!

So there I was, in Montague, Michigan, visiting some dear friends with my Beautiful Girlfriend Wife Person, when I emerged from our friends’ bathroom after noticing what appeared to be some kind of lighting device thing-a-ma-doodle. Being the polite guest that I am, I didn’t play with it or turn it on or anything. Rather, I asked my friend Dan,

“So what’s that device in your bathroom?”

“A toilet??” he replied, and we all laughed with big ha ha. Then being the smartypants I am, I apologized profusely for not knowing I was supposed to use this thing called “toilet.” Which of course I did. Use the toilet thing I mean. Turned out the device in question was a full spectrum lamp that helps our friend Mary get some artificial sunshine during the cold wintry days. After that ha ha session I boasted that I finally installed the replacement oak toilet seat at our house. Only took me 4 years to get around to it!!

Retirement has slapped us in the faces with big realities we never smelled before; and although we had nearly 6 inches of rain over the past few days, my squash vines still wilt in the hot sun and with all the wind we got the other night I’m not sure my popcorn will ever be straight again; but that has nothing to do with retirement realities but it seemed like a nice place to insert a run-on sentence for the enjoyment of all those tiny microscopic organisms that live in our intestines.

For example, retirement has given us pause to reflect, and sometimes the reflections are mere blurbs of briggly words that make us snicker and chuckle with great disregard for building materials or even gigantic stone monoliths.

My Beautiful Girlfriend started off the exchange thusly:

“How did we get into our 60s?? How did this happen??” she wondered.

“One day at a time I guess,” I answered, then added, “well… we were born…”

Before I could finish my thought she interjected, “and we popped out of the womb!!”

“Yep,” I continued, “and then we didn’t die!!”

Again we proceeded to laugh with our faces. But hey, that’s the reality of it all: if you want to live to a ripe old age, it’s very simple. Just don’t die!! Oh and try to stay healthy. Easy, right?? Yeah, sure… like a friend of ours likes to say, “getting old is not for cowards.” And no, it isn’t.

But it can still be fun… even if just with some occasional conversational frivolities.

These folks, in my professional opinion, were masters of such things.

Antergloanian Agriculture

Hello Friends,

I remember when I decided to retire I was really looking forward to spending more time in my garden. Well I have had plenty of time to do that, thankfully; and I’ve also learned a few things. Some of these things are simply amazing and wonderful, but some of them are completely antergloanian.

And antergloanian is not a word.

You see, I never expected the parsnips to crowd the eggplants and peppers to the point of near extinction. It’s been several years since I’ve planted parsnips, and for whatever reason, this year the parsnips appear to be eating Super Grow Holy Moly Plant Vitamins. They are growing so well, their leaves have prevented that oh – so necessary sunlight from hitting the peppers and eggplants. Consequently, the eggplant and pepper plants are pretty wimpy and probably won’t do much this year.

I mean, the foliage on these parsnips is simply huge!! I do have distant memories of trying to grow parsnips; but when I planted them, very few actually sprouted. Those that did were rather puny, and the roots were not very large. I seem to remember that they were tasty, but hey if you don’t get much it’s not as much fun. If the foliage on this year’s monsters is any indication, the roots should give us enough enjoyment for Rooftop Salamander Surprise; which is an ancient recipe handed down to me by my Viking ancestors that involves scaling a rope ladder with the guidance of an English speaking salamander (by the name of Loogersnotten) and attempting the deep frying of parsnip tentacles during a raging snowstorm that only occurs during a run-on sentence.

Or perhaps that was a dream (the recipe part I mean).

So there I was, minding my own business, walking near the popcorn and along the fence, admiring my cucumbers, and OH MY GOD MY LOVELY CUCUMBER VINE IS DYING!!! What the HECK-A-MA-HOOKEY is that all about?? Well it’s likely some burrowing animal happily digging its way around looking for grubs. Upon discovering this sad revelation, I knelt down, put my face close to the base of the dying vine, and shouted “YOUSE STINKING DIRT SNORTERS HAVE KILLED MY POOR CUCUMBER VINE!! I will NOT put you on my Holiday Gift List!!! SO THERE!!” Nah, I didn’t do that really. Hey, burrowing animals gotta eat too, right? Well, I may have muttered a few naughty words under my breath.

Thankfully I have two more vines, one of which was a volunteer that I transplanted out of the broccoli / Brussels sprouts / beets / Swiss chard bed. It seems to be doing OK; and has even started to produce. The other one just kinda popped up a few feet away from the dying vine. Probably a result of flinging an oversized cuke in the compost last year. Oh yeah… I get volunteer squash, melons, tomatoes, and even beans from stuff that somehow survived all the creepy crawlies that feed on veggie waste in our compost pile. Wherever I put the compost, there is often a “surprise” seedling or perhaps 19 of them. Some are welcome, most get executed (yanked out by the hair) and tossed back into the compost.

Hey, remember that one time I put a very small catnip plant in the garden? Boy, did I think that would be fun for our feline friends!! And yes!! It really is a lot of fun for the kitties. But guess what?? If you plant catnip in the garden, it spreads. And if you like how the flowers attract all those bees and butterflies and such, and then the flowers make seeds, well, then you get GIGANTIC PATHES OF CATNIP THAT REALLY LIKE MY SOIL. And why shouldn’t they? I’ve spent 39 years turning beach sand into very rich topsoil!!

Oh, and remember that one time I allowed a milkweed to flower in hopes that the Monarch butterflies would start to make babies at my house?? Well now there’s quite the milkweed patch in the southwest corner of the garden. Those things not only spread by those fluffy, featherlike seeds that float around in the air, they also are very good at spreading by roots. The pop up all over the place. Again, some of them are welcome; most get executed and sent to the compost pile. Lots of Monarchs (and many other pollinators) are starting to take notice though!!

So my friends, there’s never a dull moment in the garden. I’ve renamed it “The Garden Of Weeden” due to the large population of uninvited plants that are scattered about. That’s very OK though, because believe it or don’t the biodiversity that’s present when the weeds are visiting actually keeps veggie munching pests at bay. They provide a habitat for predators (like spiders), and their presence also confuses the “radar” of pest insects. Seriously. You see, growing veggies organically means no pesticides or other man made chemicals are allowed in or near the garden; Growing huge fields of one crop basically screams “come get me!!” to pest insects. So mixing it up is an effective way to minimize damage from those veggie munchers. As an added bonus: even when you yank them, there are lots of roots left behind that decompose and therefore build the soil.

Anyway, when I start the parsnip harvest later this year (fall and winter), I’ll make sure to invite all of you over to participate in the preparation for Rooftop Salamander Surprise.

Or maybe we’ll just have potroast.

And no, I DO NOT garden like Mickey Mouse!!

Ummm I’m Thinking

Maddie is here with our grandsons Ollie and Gabe, and as is customary I begged them all for silly input for this week’s Happy Friday!! Well, all of them are growing up way too fast, and it seems that they may be a bit more hesitant to contribute than they were when they were very young. I’ve learned that it’s much easier to have them talk into my phone while I have the microphone enabled than it is to try to transcribe every utterance. No, instead I beseech them to speech themselves into my phone and I e-mail the words to myself so I can copy and paste them here.

What follows is the result. Keep in mind that sometimes the iPhone “translates” speech as it sees fit, often with rather bizarre wordings.

I started off by asking, “OK… can you guys give me some silly stuff for my story tonight?”

“Ummm I’m thinking…” Gabe replied.

“Moo! Monkey!!” was Maddie’s knee jerk reaction. Then Ollie chimed in: “The elusive South American moose feeds on a diet of chicken nuggets and tater tots.”

Gabe added, “It also eats elephants and giraffes and lions.” Ollie got close to the phone and uttered some gibberish, which the phone took to mean “Rumor Scab on her head back and he told Jen bong famous stars will Bhupathi if the hour! Violets room or a scab on her head back and told Jen famous stars will see if the hour!” The phone is apparently upset about the hour…

Maddie then retorted, “A dragon dog went into the castle somehow even though it’s humongous and ate Gabe.” The phone also seemed to think it needed to insert some “colorful” words, over which I backspaced and told the phone “no we’re not gonna put that in the story.”

Gable replied, “No thank you why is everybody what do I say book movie game.” And Maddie responded with “Marblehead slope nerve connection or come out sooner give me so much. Oh Bubba Bubba Bubba boo-boo boo-boo!!” Ollie snapped back with “Lava Duper Duper yes Schnapp and Oceanaire. I will sing and a good day to you sir!!”

Suddenly, all of them started talking in rapid succession: “I am your biggest fan snoops you so I’m sure bicycle. You sir I eat hamburgers in seconds hi galaxy hi now before me. Meds for snag a bargaining and travel booth no sub Nube. El Bruegel France mentee Brock Fruge mend toes are now negative rude move out move that big buddy ham I like ham house ouch it’s food yay flip-flops guys flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop!!”

That concluded the phone dictation session, as I was unable to keep the focus on anything other than flip-flop; but we all laughed with big harroo and soon we all ran dentfully through the carpet grease while chickling all forms of animated toast wobbles. That of course brought our cat Flegmop to his knees, which is difficult since cats’ knees are basically elbows; and we ain’t talking macaroni neither!!

So my friends, if you ever want youngsters to dictate nonsense into a smart phone, please be aware that the transfer will often be very silly and cause hickles and froopening during zixerstorms. After reading the copy and paste banana sauce, I then of course revonkulated the snettidge even further with more norvalian cribbelletto.

I want some toast now. Please change both dandruff closets into small TV rooms.

Thank you,

Kenny Prigflorten

a.k.a. “Lenneth Loghopper”

Next will be a cartoon that none of you will ever try to infuriate.

Soon We Will Celebrate!

Hello My Fellow Emu Ranchers,

Please send large amounts of cash and donuts to my home. This of course is in honor of our upcoming anniversary. I am truly blessed to be married to my best friend and soulmate.

Yes, next month my Beautiful Girlfriend and I will celebrate 48 years of wedded blisters. Those of you who know us are also aware that the last 32 years have indeed been crispy and fresh, with a nice bouquet of happy hello and very little yelling.

The 16 years prior to the last 32 were, as we like to affectionately call them, the “Great Adjustment Period,” or GAP as the silly fashion people say. One thing nice about our marriage these days is that we no longer find the need to secretly spit in each other’s coffee (OK maybe we never did). Nor do we purposely use the laxative chocolate bar trick, or even the “lemme shove this carrot up your nose while you sleep” gag. And I cannot remember the last time we raised our voices in the praise of the “hey you stupid crap eater” tone.

No, these days everything is sparkly and new, except our bodies, and someone keeps stealing the hair on top of my head and transplanting it into my nose and ears; and never mind about the donuts because they may as well just be put straight on my hiney and/or gut because that’s where they end up when I eat them; butt I still like to chase my girlfriend when she exits the shower and also at other times; and it’s fun when she’s turned away from me at the store and I surprise her by “accidentally” placing my hand on her derriere and boy does she jump, ha, ha ha; then she gives me the “whatsamattafayou??” look and I cower a bit but look for another opportunity later in the shopping adventure while trying to catch my breath from reading this totally ridiculous run-on sentence. You see, it’s like this: I just can’t help it. She is, after all, The Most Beautiful Woman In The Universe. But in spite of my childish tendencies, she permits me to smooch her often; and in general This Lovely Lady spoils me rotten.

I don’t deserve to be this happy, but I can’t help it.

Life is good.

Our anniversary is next month, and although I’m sure all of you are truly fine people; none of you are invited to sleep in our bed with us. It’s only a full size bed for cryin’ out loud!!

Well folks, I will smell you all later. Some of you may be smellable from quite a distance, but this is not my problem.

Happy Day To You All, and please remember to enjoy Michigan Produce.

Bibble Dee Bip,

Kenny Snackwonder

a.k.a. “Herr Burgerburner”

And yes, even after nearly 48 years, we still make beautiful music together.

Office Finger Supply Realignment

Hello My Friends,

I’m writing to tell you that my fingers are broken and can no longer type anything that requires typing. Please refer to your Fronkle’s Universal Dictionary for a new and soil proof container for your unwanted dander.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of you very much for being. I know you all are, and I’m truly grateful that this is. I have been for a very long time, and I hope to be much longer than now. In the future, I’ll be there when I’m not here, and then today will of course be yesterday. Then I can look back on all the days I’ve been, and say with great warbly yodels, “ahh those were the days!!” However, if for some reason I am no longer able to be, please send 23 cents and 17 boxtops to:

Solgarian Sandwich Flatteners

c/o Glippy Zoonerbonk

333 44th Street

Crabfoot, Nymobia

So!! Who the heck put all those nasty sandspurs in my sock drawer?? Anyhow?? I mean, whenever I put my tootsies inside a sock, all I can think of is screaming YOUCH!! Then of course I do the familiar hopping and screaming dance we’ve all groan to endure. In what soon will be a very long run-on sentence I will describe how I intensely remember the happy first time I ever wore flip-flops in our lush but very barren Florida lawn when we were renting a house near MacDill Air Force Base because we didn’t want to live on the base and we didn’t really qualify anyway and unless you spend a crap ton of money on your lawn all you get is this crazy quack grass (which neither quacks nor is it very nice grass) that makes sandspurs and when you walk through a patch with uncovered footsies for the first time because you are a dumb Yankee you get very bad ouchfoot and holy CARP these stupid things are making my toes bleed!!

I mean, it hurted me awreddy!!

Now it’s time for me to remind all of you to please enjoy your life with every breath of air your pet Goose Marble can imbibe. This method of enjoyment merely requires you to be grateful for being, as was mentioned in an earlier section of whatever the heck this writing glob of words is supposed to be. If you are reading this now, you likely live in North America; which means you are among some of the most privileged people in the world. And that’s no joke you see. I for one am very grateful to the Holy Mackerel People Upstairs In The Universal Remarkable, because whoever They are, They have blessed me more than I could have ever imagined.

I even get to eat snacks!!

Very well then. You see, it’s like this: If you do not enjoy this upcoming weekend, or any other day for that matter, I shall be forced to report you to the Inner Peace Police. Believe me, they do not mess around. They will comfort you until you barf cotton candy with fairy dust that twinkles in the moonlight. So try giving each of your office supplies a name and tell them jokes often with a very big voice; especially when you’re near lots of people. This activity will very will very quickly let you know who you can trust.

Now I will go back to my finger realignment. Please call my veterinarian and find out if my lunch is still there.

Thank you,

Abner L. Pignibbler

a.k.a. “Mr. Kaboom”

And now for some feelgood type music things. Here are some of my favorites ( I have many, many favorites…).

Ummm Umm I Don’t Know

Our grandsons are visiting again, and as is the tradition for Friday night, I’ve asked their input for some Happy Friday!!! story ideas. Often I can’t transcribe their bantering quickly enough, but tonight I had to do a significant amount of nudging. I asked Gabe first, and his immediate response was, “ummm ummm I don’t know.” Ollie didn’t have much to offer either.

Then, I illustrated the magic of “talk to text” on my iPhone. I opened Notes, and hit the microphone icon and started talking. This can be quite a lot of fun for a silly child like me, because if I utter complete gibberish the phone does its best to translate my weirdness into actual words. Example: after saying a slew of nonsense I just now got Giovanni on Christo room act able to roam if Nick and eat Cambord on Fandor me qua Dodd both back.

Not sure if “qua” or “Dodd” are words. I’m still a child in old man’s clothing so I actually engage in this silliness while texting to friends or family. Some renditions are much funnier.

Anyway… I thought I’d try to get the brainstorms rolling by telling my phone: “My cat is doing a science project on me and it’s preventing me from sleeping properly.” Ollie’s face lit up a bit, and he immediately replied, “your cat’s name is Boogle by the way.” Then I asked him to continue, again with the microphone active on the phone. “I can’t think of anything but that is not what I thought of,” Ollie said.

“What kind of magazines do snakes eat?” I asked. Ollie replied, “mice flavored or other small rodents. But the flavor’s not really actual mouse flavor, it’s more like like fake banana flavoring or fake cherry. Not really an actual fruit flavor.”

Then I turned to Gabe. “Really right for you how many pounds of dog food do you eat every day?” is apparently what the phone thought I said. Gabe answered, “25.” Then I mentioned that 25 pounds is a lot of dog food!!

Next (although she didn’t know it) was my Beautiful Girlfriend’s turn to talk. “Which planet would you like to marry from??” I asked. “None of them, I’m married to you!” she replied. Then I noticed Gabe was trying to “hack” into Nini’s (my Beautiful Girlfriend’s Grandma name) iPad. “What do I do it here what is the password for?” Gabe queried. “How much baloney can you stick in your nose?” I asked. “25 phones,” Gabe replied.

Back to Ollie. I wondered aloud, “When radios calibrate themselves what color are their nostrils?” The phone was sure that Ollie’s answer was: “I see you like a mix between Hughes and a sky blue!” I continued the query: “What are spaghetti molecules made of ?” Ollie said, “well I mean I don’t know but they’re rather delicious. Not sure I want to know.”

Gabe finished up the discussion with the following: “If you find the sheet of paper with the password put it in the Lego box.”

So my friends, these are the types of discussions that never occur at our house. Please do not try to derive any hidden meaning from this small box of brownie mix, it will merely confuse your pets and they may even try to teach you molecular mapping during your nocturnal napping.

Or not.

On the other hand, you have the old masters…

Is Anyone Out There?

Seems like some Earthlings have been obsessed with a very old question: is there life on Mars? I pondered this myself for what seemed like hours, just before hitting my head on the pillow last night.

Well, DUH! Bet those science folks spent some big bucks researching this no-brainer. Of COURSE there’s life on Mars!! Lots of other places, too. Folks in Hollywood have known this for years. My good friend Vexor the Sarganian laughed openly about the stupidity of Earthling scientists, and has often helped movie makers get the real picture. “Lobster Men from Mars,” for example. Lots of diffent kinds of folks out there on the other planets. Earthlings are just too arrogant to embrace that idea. Or maybe we’re just chicken!

Vexor is, of course, from Sargan: the 5th planet of Sector 23vx in the Skoldern Galaxy. A pretty cool dude, and he’s been around, if you know what I mean. Got that 479 Megazip Crambo-Leaper a couple yargons ago, and he’s been tearing up the Interstellar Speedway ever since. He took me for a ride once, but I get starsick; and, well, I’ll just be staying on Earth for a while (I barfed on his crystal- regulated zoomophone).

Anyhower, he’s known about life “out there” for years. When I asked him about Mars, I think it upset him, though at first he just got this blank look on his face. Then he scrunched up his eyes, and blurted out, “Where the heck ya think all those chocolate candies come from?? Says `Mars’ on the back, don’t it?? Jeez, man, don’t you pay attention?” I sat there, dumbfounded, as he continued to illustrate my cosmic ignorance.

“You can even smell them making the chocolate from here,” he ranted. “All you have to do is go to Hershey, Pennsylvania and look through a telescope at the beautiful Red Planet. Before you know it, you’ll smell chocolate.”

“What’s so special about Hershey… hey, wait a minute,” I said, grinning. “That’s where the Hershey bar factories are, you Moogle Framer! Ha, you got me there. Ha ha.” Vexor laughed too, and slapped me on the back playfully with his dretzel. Then he put me in my place again by noting that he hadn’t been called a Moogel Framer in over 43 durns. I guess I used an obsolete expression. “Nice try, though, you silly Zoff Pinkler!” he chortled. He thought that was pretty darned funny, but I was getting a bit impatient. Vexor picked up on my frustration pretty quickly, and being the sensitive Sarganian that he is, he returned to Mars as the focus of the conversation.

“Yep, you may remember reading in the National Globe Star Enquirer that Elvis is alive. He’s making records on Mars, and doing quite well, thank you. His favorite candy is his own creation, the Hunka-Hunka bar. Some kind of cross between chocolate and a peanut butter sandwich.”

“What, no Snickers??” I asked this of him with a pretty strong tone. I was a bit shocked that Vexor hadn’t mentioned what I considered to be one of the best chocolate bars in the universe. “Of course,” I continued, “they are becoming the amazing shrinking candy bar. Something happened with the size lately, and they’re not quite as big as they used to be. Still cost just as much, though. Perhaps they should be renamed `Sneakers’.”

Vexor started tapping his pedplarbs and fidgeting with a small piece of croob. When I quit rambling, he started anew. “You wanna gab about junk food or you wanna hear about Mars??” He was almost shouting at me, so I shut up. “OK. Now, where was I?” he continued. “O yeah. Elvis. He bought one of those fancy belts from Leroy, too. Helped him bring a lot more folks into his concerts at the Martian Mosh Pit there in New Kramia.”

I was puzzled. “Leroy??” I queried. “Who’s this Leroy?”

“Duh,” Vexor chided. “Don’t you Earthrats know anything? Leroy Aster! You know, the inventor of the Asteroid Belt! All those shiny things on his custom made belts really bring in the crowds. Gotta have good technicians to train the lights on them just the right way, of course. Those Gleebnoogles from Jupiter really go nuts for that stuff. Spend thousands of smoglards just to get a peek!”

He had a great time reminiscing. He paused and tilted his head back, rolled his eyes and shook with laughter as he recalled some of the fun he and his girlfriend Vosk had at some of those Elvis concerts last month. Wasn’t long before I was being treated to his best bag of dehydrated skunyon and a tall glass of brak-ma-gar.

Then the alarm clock went off…

But wait!! Perhaps it wasn’t a dream!! I forgot about Marvin!!!