I believe my wife is acquiring super powers. Either that or she has some secret agenda to be on this Earth way longer than me; I’m just not sure.

For example, this past February, she had a titanium knee installed. The doctor says it will last 20 to 30 years, and then she can get a new one. Titanium is very strong stuff, so it’s probably bullet proof. See where I’m going with this? I mean, I have my original knees. No titanium for me; just boring, brittle, calcium phosphate. Pretty darn sure they are *NOT * bullet proof. But at least the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk could make bread with them…

Feee! Foe! Fum! Fie!!

I smell the blood of a Norwegian guy.

Be he live or be he dead,

I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.

See what I mean? That giant dude won’t be grinding no stinkin’ titanium for his bread, now will he?? Unless, of course, he likes that nice metallic flavor in his mouth. Dunno about you, but I only get that when something really scares me; and it is not very delicious. So my Beautiful Bionic Girlfriend will be safe if there are ever any bone crunching giants roaming around.

OK.

So then, she goes to renew her driver’s license, right? It’s been awhile since her last eye exam; so first she goes to the eye doctor. She saw what I went through earlier this year. Like a dummy, I went to the drivers license house before having my eyes checked. I flunked the stinkin’ vision test. First time in my living life I ever needed actual prescription type glasses. I was bummed. The eye doctor told me that he could probably write me an excuse saying I passed the basic requirements (my eyes are not too bad… yet) but I said, “no, I’d rather play by the rules.” He smiled, and $320 later I had glasses that enabled me to pass the vision test.

OK.

So she calls me after her appointment, and I can tell by her tone that she’s rather annoyed. “The doctor says I have cadillacs,” she said. Well sheesh… she is obviously holding out on me (like with the Bionic Woman Knee thing) because all these years I thought she was driving a Toyota. Never heard of anyone having little cars in their eyes. “I’m going to need surgery,” she grumbled. “Right,” I’m thinking to myself. “More Bionic Woman stuff. First it’s the knee, now she’s having her optic luxury cars replaced.”

I remember gazing into her beautiful eyes when we were first dating, and I noticed a tiny spot on her left pupil. “You have a hole in your eye,” I used to say, just to tease her a bit. Well now I know what that was all about, don’t I?? She’s been enjoying micro-miniature luxury cars in there without my knowledge!! Must be they are convertibles. Probably what the eyelids are all about.

Well, I need to be less afraid of all this Bionic Woman stuff and be grateful that we have the medical technology to keep my Beautiful Honey Pie well. As for me, I don’t have any replacement parts yet. However, I’m pretty good with a soldering iron; and I have some power tools in the garage I can use for experiments.

Some day.

Maybe.

OK.

So I’m not sure what’s going on with these eyeball automobiles.  But when I went hunting for a “crazy car cartoon” I found this:

OK, so there I was, outside planting my garden, enjoying the tingly sensation of mosquitoes sucking my blood and gnats chewing off the top layers of my flesh, and I finally got about 11/12ths of everything planted; and I was very glad about this because HOLY COW it’s June awreddy and I shoulda had everything planted by now but then I looked in the planting chart in the Old Farmer’s Almanac and it’s OK, it’s OK, it’s gonna be OK; unless of course I continue with this run-on sentence and then it’s maybe not gonna be so OK.

OK?

OK.

So yes, it’s gratifying to have most of my stuff in the ground. Now, those who know me understand that my mind is often wandering into strange territories. So today, while talking to friends at work about my garden, I had some “scientific” revelations that, if successful, will revolutionize gardening forever more. The “science” goes thusly:

A- Although I’ve transplanted tomato, pepper, and eggplant seedlings, much of what I plant are seeds (or in the cast of potatoes, tubers).

9 – The seeds I plant are often the part of the plant that actually gets eaten during harvest. This goes for potatoes, too, in that although a “seed potato” is planted, one could actually eat it. However, you wouldn’t get any harvest if you ate all the seeds (ha, ha ha).

So my scientific infusion is: one should be able to plant other things we eat and grow more of them.

Grade school biology tells us that plants use photosynthesis to grow. So my theory, which of course has to be true because it’s posted here on the interwebs, is that if we plant other food items we should be able to increase our original amount via food-o-synthesis.

One example which seems like a good place to start is Meijer rotisserie chicken. Boy howdy I like that stuff. I’ll start by planting a couple this weekend some time. As with potatoes, the whole chicken would need to be in the ground. I can hardly wait to see what sprouts from this. Other ventures may involve a stick or two of butter, perhaps a block of cheese, and maybe a couple fresh fish.

I’ve also theorized that perhaps non-food objects like a could be planted. For these I’d use the “cuttings” method that is so often a popular way to grow various plants. Some things I’d like to try are: spark plugs (to grow a new engine for my rototiller), radio knobs (should grow a stereo I’m hoping) or perhaps a piece of glass or two for a new type of “cultivated windows.” The possibilities are only limited by the imagination, in my professional opinion. I mentioned these to my work friends and was greeted with wide eyed smiles and joyful giggling. I can just tell they are excited for me!!

I’ll be planting a little more this weekend. I’ll let you know at a later date what my success rate is. In the meantime, have some of this. A hint about YouTube, go to Full-Screen mode for best viewing of one of my favorites:

Hello My Friends,

I’m writing to tell you that my fingers are broken and can no longer type anything that requires typing. You may well ask, “howma na heck are you broken fingers? Anyhow?” Then again, you may not ask that.

Please do NOT ask that.

The reason my fingers are broken is because they are not broken at all, merely sleeping in a typing trance that occurs each week during the Morshnayvian Lunar Cycle. Previously I was riding a Pepto Dismal Cycle, but that one only had 14 wheels so I switched back to the Bread Flavored Hamper Cycle. It coasts down hills really well, but the brakes are made of chalk dust; and that of course cannot be used in soups any longer.

Please refer to your Fronkle’s Universal Dictionary for a new and soil proof container for your unwanted dander. If you decide your dander is too oily for soil, gently injure the nearest lamp tossing machine and stand back while the multicolored fizzing foam engulfs your left elbow.

Thanks very much for being. I know you all are, and I’m truly grateful that this is. Hey, if you weren’t, you simply wouldn’t be; and then of course my thanks for your being would soon roll hastily toward the nearest asparagus burrito.

At this point, I must beseech unto you: 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. If those guys apprehend your frownings, you’ll be mandated to toss marshmallows into the gopher hole. Soon after that, your presence will be requested at the North American Sandwich Throwing Contest, which is never held at midnight on top of Old Smokey.

Stand proudly during a meeting and give each of your office supplies a name; and tell them jokes often with a very big voice. 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 more varnish tray zipper waddles…

Once Upon A Time, I Used Capital Letters With No Regard For Proper Nouns. That’s Because If I Want To Mix It Up, I ShaLL, and NoBody CaN StoP Me; NoT EveN The GRAMMAR PATROL. So I plunk about on my merry Way, now too Lazy to Capitalize Every stinking word, because I am in control of the keyboard, not you or any other dust sniffing, flexible, purple and lavender Irish TV sales representative who of course would find it very amusing indeed to spill bean soup on your brand new sock drawer and what have we here now it sure looks like a large chocolate bar with almonds which just happens to be my favorite kind especially when I shave with it during all those silly bread movies that never arrive in a theater near you.

Also, I had my annual physical exam today.

The doctor told me, “your blood pressure should not be this high… it’s 738 over 485 you know. If you don’t stop trying to inflate your nostrils by blowing so hard, you could lose your navel from capillary kaboom!!” She also warned me that maybe my job might be causing me too much stress. I said, “nah, I really don’t mind working in the noodle toss machine. It’s good money, and once in awhile they let me catch a noodle or two. Otherwise, I have to twirl around and allow the semi-soft noodles to coat my shirt and make a noodle coat, the likes of which you’ve never chewed. It’s very crinkly and barky bazoo. ”

“But you only have your health once,” she said, grimacing. “You and your wife have skills… you can take them almost anywhere. You don’t necessarily want stress to cause your eyeballs to migrate to Albania.” I told her that now that I’m very very VERY old, I only have Three Years, 11 Months, 20 Days left to retire. She thinks maybe I should think about maybe taking my skills to maybe a place that maybe has a lower stress level. She’s also very aware that my Beautiful Girlfriend (a.k.a. my Lovely Wife) is an accomplished maker of finely crafted toothpick animals. People come from miles around to see her life sized models of Brontosaurus Rex and Tyrannosaurus Anteaters. Sometimes she even peels the noodles off me when I get home from work and does wonders in the art of noodleskins.

As I was basking in the glory of my Beautiful Honey Pie’s Animanoodles, the doctor resumed the exam and started with that stupid skin shovel. Oooohhh I do hate that thing!!! She runs from one side of the room and clobbers me with the shovel to get her samples. Fortunately it’s only a few millimeters wide but nearly 7 feet long. She has a small wheelbarrow off to the side with little slots to keep other patients’ skin samples separate from mine. Finally she takes a large whisk and twirls them all about, carefully but indiscriminately mixing all the different samples. Whoever has the strongest DNA will enjoy an exquisite coating of aged cheddar cheese on the back of their neck.

For nearly 7 weeks running I have been called Mr. Cheese Neck by her staff… a title I proudly boast to my friends in the Noodle Tossers Fraternity Of Lower Puffington. They are all truly fascinated by the snorking noise one makes when adorned with Cheese Neck Holy Moly.

Some of you who may actually have read this far may snicker at my propensity for verbicide. Well, I already knew what propensity was but never heard of verbicide before until today. I guess one could say I have verbicidal tendencies. Or even worse, one could say I have vertical tentacles!!! They stick up out of my head bone!! It’s very embarrassing when I try to go through a low doorway and my tentacles try to hang on to the wall places!! They do help me keep my hat on during a stiff breeze, though.

Holy COW I’m glad it’s Friday.

How about a cartoon now?  OK?  OK!!

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 Associates,

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.

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 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 2019, the week begins with the letter R. It follows then, that you may share this with people 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. After all, your toaster is probably orange with chrome crumb fenders.

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!!

Dear Beautiful Everyone,

In keeping with my very own tradition which I have started all by myself on this blog thing; I’d like to ring in the shiny new 2015 Holiday Season with a reminder to you all that the time has once again arrived again once more, yet again and it’s like here already; even though I’ve truly overused the workd “again” in this run-on silly sentence that really only needed to again remind you that this is the time of year with the Ho Ho Ho and the Randolph the Rude Nosed Rain Deer and Frosty the Snotman and of course the Commercials and the Holiday Flatulence Delays during my cat’s friend’s Tree Lighting Matrimony.

In other words, Happy Holiday Season to All Of You, Wherever You Are. And yes, that Right noW I Know I Am capitalizinG words InCoRrEctly but I simplY do that FoR thE fUn of it.

Sew Their.

As many of you may know, it’s around this time that I deliver my Holiday Requirements List For All Humans To Embrace Fully And Without Question. Sure, I’m an old hippie who grew up during the ’60s and have often been dismayed by what seems to be worldwide greed and disparity. However, in my own case of being completely silly and with the full intent of sending a smile or two; I hereby place into print the items I require as gifts for this year.

Actually, I don’t need anything. I’ve been blessed beyond measure with a nice home, a Beautiful Girlfriend who actually allowed me to marry her some years ago, and a beautiful family who are both near and far. However: Please note, that although I’m very grateful for everything I have and (for the most part) everyone I know; I still need more stuff and I want you to go get it for me now or perhaps yesterday or the day before. OK? I mean hey, I don’t wanna get nasty or nuttin’ wit you. Just get da stuff like I ask fer it.

Got it?

Good!!

So without delay, here is MY LIST OF HOLIDAY REQUIREMENTS FOR 2015:

A*) Please get 3 of the 17 Liter containers of Uncle Zelnish’s Concrete Polish. I’ve been buffing our sidewalk and driveway for quite some time now and can’t seem to get them shiny.

4n) I need another 7 lbs. of Marvel Mystery Raisin Skin Kaboom. It’s an awesome addition to sauces and also pretty darn good for tire repair. I used every last ounce I had last year, and now I can’t for the life of my find my flashlight or my Swiss Army knife.

c12) For my reading enjoyment, I’ll need an autographed copy of “How To Tell Your Best Friend’s Friend They Have A Booger,” by Dr. Hamilton “Sheila“ Snorkhammer.

x9) I’ve always needed some toenail growth regulators. I really dislike clipping my toenails, especially the ones on the Big Toe. I think there are research quality toenail toasters out there that inhibit fleas. Maybe those will work.

7!) Wow, remember those Zagnut candy bars we used to get when we were kids? I found out those are REALLY GOOD with coffee!! They have them at Cracker Barrel!! Don’t buy me any of those. Instead, just follow me around for a year or so and buy my meal when I go to Cracker Barrel. OK? Yes, and take care of the tip too if you don’t mind. I usually tip on a scale of 133 cents for every dollar spent on the meal; especially when someone else is footing the bill. Please don’t forget that part. That’s fine, thank you.

And finally…

V3) If you call ahead I’ll be very OK with you coming over and cooking up some fried chicken. Holy Moly I love that stuff. Sure, you could cheat and say you are cooking and then drop some Meijer and / or Plumbs fried chicken into a hot pan when I’m not looking. In my professional opinion, Meijer and Plumbs make some of the Best Fried Chicken In The West Michigan Universe. If you accidentally brought some over; this would cause me to salivate profusely and I might even invite you to stay and help me eat it. Maybe.

In the meantime, please tell your friends and family you love them. Or at the very least, show them you love them. You can do that with a smile, a hug, or by simply being kind. Be nice to a stranger. Sing out loud for happy. If you can’t sing, try whistling. Or something. Something good. Be willing to show whoever you may see that in spite of all the bad we hear about the world, there really is quite a lot of good stuff going on.

There really is you know.

Peace and Love to You All.

In case you were wondering, this is how all the stuff gets put together and prepared for delivery.