A Grateful Heart Has No Tonsilitis

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Dear Ninks and Semmerflubens,

I am writing to all of you from the back yard where no children are stuffing bread into the worm holes. This week has been especially stressful in This Universe, what with televised evidence of the attempted democracy destruction and war and inflation and stuff like that there. Therefore, in the interest of clam flavored desserts, I feel the need to remove my corporate tortellini. Those of you who know me are aware that some stressfully sprinkled donuts prompt me to write letters to fire hydrants.

Let this past century of my 13 day week be no Oldsmobile to that incubation.

Four egg sample: I decided to purchase gasoline today. Thought $4.96 was a bargain!! I never thought I would think that the thought of thinking that gas less than $5 a gallon was a thought to be thought of. But I was grateful (?) to get the “bargain.” After I put over $70 into my Toyota Sienna Racing Van (which, by the way, gets about 30 mpg if I go just a smidge less than 65 mph), my Lovely Wife Person made a rather sacrilegious exclamation. As I opened the door to get back in,  I turned my back toward my Beautiful Girlfriend and asked, “Honey, is my hiney bleeding??” We left the gas station with a Holy Mackerel Price Rash, but soon found ourselves saying, “We must remain grateful that we are still able to pay our bills, and put gas on our table and put food in our car!!” After all, we are indeed very fortunate people who no longer require adult supervision at most Twinkie eating contests!! So yes, we are not happy that the oil companies are robbing us, but the bottom line is that we needed to get with the gratitude awreddy to prevent our heads from exploding.

My Self agreed that grouch makes ouch. I decided I really ought not allow this universe to remove my ventricles or extinguish my lapis lazuli.

Thankfully, I’ve acquired some tools during this Journey Called Life that give me the ability to cope with the smell of rotten eggs and other people who seem bent on ruining our everything. I smile and decide not to be El Groucho inside my brain world. At least not for 27 minutes, then I could reevaluate and perhaps even continue another 14 milliseconds. By golly, that may have actually worked. I try hard to not take the horrible events of the world too poisonously. Then perhaps I may also sprinkle some nonsense into the Happy Friday Writing Thing to make myself chortle and breep and hopefully help others to chuckle Chiclets while changing their socks. Of course I could take the alternate route and vehemently complain until my forehead has become inflamed with large pickles that fly violently in all directions. This of course would serve no other purpose than to unsuccessfully clone my onion rings before Hubert The Closet Painter arrives from Denderflaven. If he gets here before the sauerkraut capsules are fully declawed, there is absolutely no guarantee of the existence of any newly sharpened Jell-O forks.

And we all know what that means!!

So, I’ve decided to just be happy until I feel grouchy again, and thankfully The Grouchies are much fewer and farther between than previous infections. I’ve learned that I can start my day over again with a new happy and grateful attitude. Then if I get grouchy once more it will hopefully be a little less, and I keep practicing the gratitude thing. Then if people continue to get on my nerves, I’ll merely sing a pleasant song to them when their ears are not looking. Something cheerful like…

Leave me alone or I’ll bite you

Your ears are made of sticks

Why do you talk to ME like that

I’ll send you cat logs in the mail.

This of course is sung to the tune of “Leave Me Alone Or I’ll Bite You.”

Finally, and least palatable, is what seems to be an attitude of “Hooray for Me and to Hell with YOU” in our nation of freely expressive greedy stinkbottoms. I mean hey, I’m very grateful we live in a free country and hey, you know, when it comes right down to it, most of us are spoiled Americans compared to many folks on this planet. You know, hey? It’s just um… what troubles me, is um… you know, like um… wait a minute, let me hold my smellphone and text someone while you’re trying to talk to me and um… you know, this “America First” stuff seems to be causing a lot of resentment in the world and last time I checked, if a person is silly enough to proclaim himself King Of The Mountain then someone is gonna want to knock them down off the top of that mountain with a giant Tootsie Roll or something much more explosive.

Greed is harming all of us; and it ain’t no good for Mother Nature neither. We humans don’t own this planet, although we seem to act like the whole thing is ours. These things make me become very figgly and bickety-boo! So then I start getting more with the Grouch Ouch, and I want to go bite a bark flavored tricycle!!

Then I laugh at my silliness and life is once again refreshing and full of new opportunities to enjoy fruit and perhaps even the occasional flying insect.

Sometimes I restart my day 479 times or more.

So, how was YOUR week?

I think this cartoon was made when gas was just a wee bit cheaper than today…

Grandsons On The Giggle

Well here we are on another late Friday night when the grandsons finally made it to our house. Because of Covid and other such nasties, we’ve been staying clear of them whenever they have any cold bugs or sniffles. We’ve learned the hard way that a bug they might have can turn into something more serious for us old farts. Last time we had a happy enjoyment of bronchitis!!

They are both getting older now, so bed time is not so easily achieved as it was in previous years. Rather than be the ogre I summoned them to contribute to Happy Friday!!! with a few random thoughts. I think they were a bit tired from a long day so getting ideas out of their heads was a bit like pulling cheese out of a broken saxophone (or something). Anyway, what follows is a composite of ideas, theirs and mine, in a mixture not at all resembling American Breadsticks And Gravy.

“Hey guys, if you can’t sleep, how about helping me with a few story ideas?” I asked. Silence followed. I waited. As they started talking I started typing.

“I had something,” said Ollie.

“I’m thinking,” Gabe said.

Ollie noticed I was typing every word, and exclaimed, “Papa, what are you doing??” Then an idea that was stirring vanished. “Dang it…!!!” Ollie uttered in desperation. Finally I typed furiously as the spurt of “creative” thoughts emerged.

Herman and Karle were two chickens whose favorite thing to do was eat a cheeseburger stuffed inside a pizza stuffed inside a turkey with butter on it, deep fried and covered in chocolate. “This is the healthiest food in the world, totally,” said Gertrude.

Any other time they weren’t eating this marvenkulous snack, they would be hunting down roadkill. Upon finding roadkill, they would poke it with frogs. The frog would try to hold its nose and would often yell while barfing, “ARGHHH why do you force me to poke these dead possums???” “Be quiet you toad, you are not allowed to complain per our agreement.” “I am not a toad, you overcooked poultry excuse for a human.” the frog bribbled.

When they got bored with poking roadkill with frogs, they would run through the aisles of the local Meijer with a fire extinguisher. Whenever they saw somebody they would hide behind the nearest row of pickle jars and giggle while trying their best to play songs on the fire extinguisher. “This is a brief concert in the key of no fire.” they shouted while giggling into the marshmallow bin.

Upon being discovered, they would yell “FINDERS KEEPERS!!” and run out of the store with the fire extinguishers hidden inside their sneakers.

What would you say to a cat that finally quit smoking?? Does anyone hear my silent motions?? I’m having great difficulty seeing in this small bottle with all the noise in the garage. Tonight the robots will be serving Wild Lego Surprise. Hold the whipped cream on mine please. And please don’t rub it in kale juice like last time. For myself, I have always known that zebra mussels are very yummy in cake. Proving this has not been easy; but when I have friends over for tea and slobberfood they smile sheepishly and say “What’s crunchy?” When I tell them they are snarfing down thousands of little zebra mussels in each bite, they say “O” and excuse themselves out the door very quickly.

Well I hope by now that none of you have learned your lesson. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s a bread whistle perched atop an inkjet printer with that smug “ha ha I’m a bread whistle” look. So if you ever come upon a singing centipede during your travels, please call the nearest Yo Ho Da Knee at your earliest inconvenience.

Thank you and please enjoy what follows; unless you’d rather not.

Linguini On Parade

Hello My Fellow Pastrami Crinklers,

This is 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. This is to ensure the cranial vibration machines will be well coagulated prior to sailing off to Monster Island.

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…

Some may proclaim, “hey, that looks like it should be sung to the tune of ‘Camptown Races!!’ ” Well of course those who find that line of dingle berries fuzzy and warm will never be successful at launching pickles with catapults. No, rather they will wander aimlessly over hill and dale; squandering what was left of my 2nd grade lunch money.

I’d like a refund yesterday or the year before if you please.

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. Perhaps they are unaware that even inanimate objects yearn for their homeland; which is exactly why we intend to bury all wrenches back into the iron mines from whence they originated.

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. Additionally, please stop putting duct tape sticky side up on my favorite Loaf Toasting Chair. I’ve been mocked numerous times during my grocery store excursions that followed some nice Loaf Toasting Sessions. If you Are Willing to comply with My Duct Tape Restraint Request (DTRR); I’ll also Be Willing to Cease the Use of Grammatically incorrect CapiTalization (UGIC).

MayBe. If I fEel liKe it. OK MaybE noT.

(FOOP).

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”

Without any further ado, here be this week’s cartoon.  Gotta love Betty!!  This one’s from The Internet Archive, so the player’s a bit weird.  After opening, click on the arrows in the bottom right corner to view it full screen.   Below the cartoon is a link to a rather silly song sent to me by a friend… never heard this one before and it shows that Bob Dylan has a sense of humor.

A Snibbulous Rant

Hello fellow peace loving creatures. Don’t know about you, but my week has been saturated with very crankular work challenges. It’s bad enough I didn’t win the lottery; mainly because I never played. But in addition to that hugely caripular disappointment; other things in my inside-the-house world have been bonking me in the noggin with large, monstrificous ouch hurtings. To quote some poet guy I never knew (nor ever quoted correctly):

Too much to do,

And not enough time,

Makes a man smelly,

Cranky and whine.

Please know, however, that I am very aware that not only was that a very bad (or perhaps nonexistent) rhyme; my woes are in all respects what me and my friends often call “high class problems.” In other words: I am a healthy young man, I have a nice home, a beautiful girlfriend (who actually let me marry her!!), we own cars that are paid off and actually work, we have plenty to eat, we have food in the garden we’re gonna eat later, and of course we have electricity that powers our stuff and lets us play musics and make coffee and other important foods and even sometimes we use our TV to watch important, spiritually uplifting programming like Saturday Night Live and NCIS, and we also have friends whom we love dearly, and in addition to all that, I have not used one single semi-colon in this run-on sentence and I’m not even sure that matters but holy cow this was a really long one; (oops, a semi-colon just crept in there) and the whole point of all this is:

If I keep a grateful heart

I’ll be much less likely to fart

On the surface of my blessings

Because I’m one lucky, lucky guy.

Yet another very bad rhyming thing there. I really am lucky you know. So why am I whining?? Because I’m human I guess. You see, our house is pretty much topsy-turvy right now. Topsy-turvy… now there’s an expression you don’t see every day, right? Please don’t confuse this with hunky-dory or especially pinkly-winkly, which may not even be a thing. What I’m trying to say that because of our high-class problems, our home is in great disarray.

Why, you may wonder, is this topsy-turvy disarray affecting our pinkly-winklies in such a painful manner? Well you see, it’s like this: we had the good fortune to spend some money on the innards of our house. Some very good painters came to do their thing, and that meant that we had to remove much furniture and bric-a-brac and even stuff we never knew we had from the room so they could work. And to add ink spots to ingenuity, we also decided to have new carpet installed. The result of these Spoiled American decisions was the “storage” of bookcases, shelving, electronic doohickeys, books, and all manner of possessions anywhere they could fit in other rooms. Walking through the resulting maze has become rather, um… interesting.

Then of course comes the “whatever pleases you my dear” conundrum. In other words, I’m a guy, OK? No, I really mean it. And my Beautiful Girlfriend is a woman. And because I’m a guy, my give-a-hoot about interior decorating is limited to the precise placement of stereo speakers. You know, important stuff. Well this Amazing Woman of mine has decided that this bookcase needs to go, and that armoire needs to have its head chopped off and reattached a few feet lower to accommodate a large screen TV to be mounted on the wall. So I get my saw and my hammer and drill thing and BLS (Big Long Screws) and commence to hacking and scraping and drilling and putting in the screws and OUCH my finger holy moly watch out for that sharpness oh crap I’m bleeding go get a Band Aid and back to work and what the HECK?? The stupid pull chain on the ceiling fan light bit the dust so now it’s the happy enjoyment of taking the thing apart to replace the switch and CAN I PLEASE GO HOME NOW I DON’T WANNA PLAY ANYMORE but oh wait, I’m already home but I’ll sure be glad when it’s all done and we can sit back and enjoy some leisure time of snarfing potato chips and drinking apple juice.

But guess what?? NONE of this stuff is a problem, really. We get to have our house painted and carpeted. We get to have too much stuff to move around. As I said before, we have a nice home with no bombs exploding or invaders invading. We are, in short, very, very grateful. Hope life is good at your house.

I think I’ll end this snibbulous rant with just one more poem, the theme of which has no bearing on any aforementioned anything, but it might make you smile:

Wally

Bring your friends to Wally’s house

Because he’s really Super Mouse.

He fell down twice and did not break,

And he can swallow half a lake.

He always eats his super cheese,

But now he’s getting Super Fleas.

The End

And now for some fun that also happens to be set to music.

Electronic Refractions And Mandatory Recycling Procedures

Horrible things are occurring on our Planet today.  A ruthless dictator is doing his best to steal an independent nation; and there are some citizens in our own country who think this jerkface Vladimir Putin is a great guy.  This all makes me barf on the ground with bad sadness.  Therefore, in an attempt to achieve complete detachment from all this nasty business, I present to you all a helping of nonsense which I hope will comfort your earlobes with copious amounts of bacon which is infused with multi-colored raisin crystals.  Herewith, therefore, and to wit is the very important letter for none of you to amplify during cleanser commercials.

Dearest Traves and Mizzledenters,

In the interest of a more secure planet whose resources have been dwindling at an alarming rate, we must now embark upon an aggressive lotion application program for each and every living organism on this home we call Earth.

Some of you may well ask, “how does one apply lotion to pollywogs and other large mammals?” As a famous president often said, “let me say this about that.” Seriously, if you cannot yet grasp the operational intricacies of the Royal Lotion Brush, then please do not attempt to enter the Cat Coating Laboratory. Cats are not amused when radioactive desserts are substituted for common flashlight banana candles.

Please ask both of your friends whether they can seriously find themselves. You simply never know in this day and age where one can be found. And of course, if one is found then others will be soon to follow. Follow me to the store and I may or may not purchase some electronic bread removal tools. These and other contraceptives can be found floating through the 73rd dimensional portal that was built by the Ancient Dribblers.

I’ve asked our electronic recycling contractors to apply soap to both wheels. Please let me know if any capacity regions require further coagulation. The most effective method of communication for this purpose is very loud yodeling during a thunderstorm. Each yodel should be very melodic as well as crunchy; and the yodeler must be prepared to catch the fresh, warm output of the Danish Donut Ejection Machine.  Please keep this in mind for the upcoming summer months or weeks or days, because as we all know, summer months and some are not.

This procedure is truly vital and must be followed exactly. Some of the more common questions that may or may not arise are:

Do chocolate celery sticks enjoy a separate life cycle?

What color is this wandering balloon whose name is Alfred?

Remember that one time when we were sleeping in the snowbank?

Is this carnival really safe?

When do we get to press the Magic Button?

Are you going to eat that???

Please thank yourselves in advance for your constellations. After all, EVERYBODY is a star.

Happy Wheezing,

Brebbick N. Zemberklang
a.k.a. “Foofie McSnuffington”

Now these have NOTHING to do with ANYTHING but they were fun for me.

Hopefully for you too…

Like Normal People (?)

How does one define the word “normal?” Anyway? I suppose it depends on who you ask. I mean, something as simple as wearing underwear might be considered normal by most folks. Then of course there are those who don’t find that normal at all. There are so many ways to interpret what “normal” is, that some (including me) have embraced the statement that normal is simply a cycle on the washing machine.

Why would I even want to go there? Writing about what’s normal I mean. Well, my Beautiful Girlfriend forced me to do it with a funny quip she made about dinner the other day. We were settling in for the evening; all our chores completed, and it was time to enjoy an elegant dinner of burritos from Taco Bell. My Lovely Bride looked at me with her beautiful eyes and said, “Let’s go to the bedroom, watch TV and eat our dinner like normal people.” “Like normal people, huh??” I snickered.

That gave both of us a nice chuckle. And yes we did enjoy our gourmet burritos in bed while we watched a Marvel movie with surround sound. Why do we have surround sound in the bedroom? Because that’s what my Honey Pie wanted. And I have to say it’s pretty nice to chill out all comfy and enjoy movie house quality sound in the comfort of your own… um… bedroom. And yes, we have surround sound in the living room too.

Are we spoiled or what??

Now I must ask: it’s normal for people to enjoy bad breath sandwiches, right? You know, some nice deli rye slathered in mayo with some chopped onion and a can of King Oscar sardines in tomato sauce layered nicely on there. Then snarf it down and go looking for your sweetie for a nice kiss. My wife just loves that ya know! Oh wait!!! No, she does NOT. No smooching till the teeth are brushed!!

Oh, and is it normal to buy a tool (or something) because you can’t find the one you know you have?? Gotta have that metric adjustable wrench today, right?? How else can I loosen the fronkulator on the bilateral mizzlepop and make sure it twinkles correctly before the warranty expires?? So off we go to the hardware store, buy an adjustable metric wrench for $18.95; and I’m told “You’re lucky!! You got the last one and oh, by the way, it costs more because it’s metric.” Then I learn that these are often called Crescent wrenches and they work for any standard because hey, they’re adjustable!! Well OK I already knew that; it’s just fun to be silly. Of course, I have indeed purchased a tool or other thing-a-ma-bob over the years because I needed the one I was sure I had, but could not find it for love nor money. So I go buy a new one (oh wait, that’s money!); and about halfway through the project while I’m rummaging through the tools I find the missing domaflochy that I had all along.

So is it normal for the pizza to change colors while the oven is turned off, then start howling when the preheat is finished and the oven door is open?? Then when I go to put it on the oven rack all these little colored flags pop up with exclamations like “No!!” “Ouch!!” “Hot!!” “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” And then the mouse with driving cap and sunglasses in the little sports car starts ramming my ankles and shouting obscenities (I think) in Swahili or something while beeping his horn. Phone rings, I slide my hand too close to the rack, ouch that hurts, it’s someone who wants to extend my car’s warranty and the refrigerator is beeping again and confetti is gushing out of the ice maker and why in the HECK is the motor oil in the vegetable drawer??

Oh wait… just a dream.

Was that a normal dream? Or should I just enjoy that cycle on the washing machine?

This might be an interesting dream…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PmsrFSTjMXU

Monday Monkey Business

Some of you may be aware that this Monday brings a celebration day for Peace, Love, and Harmony. And yes, of course I’m talking about Valentine’s Day. I firmly believe that February 14 is not a day to be celebrated only by lovers. The spirit of the day should be shared with everyone, because hey, “What The World Needs Now Is Love;” and yes, the Dionne Warwick reference is definitely intended.

At our house, Valentine’s Day has always been very warm and fuzzy; dripping with honey globs and covered with chocolate mixed with assorted deliciousness accompanied by some hugging and maybe some smooching and perhaps some none-of-your-business. We usually enjoy a special treat for dinner. You know, stuff like steak on the half shell or maybe lobster toenails served on a crispy bed of burnt popcorn. Our palates will then be delicately washed with a nice glass of alcohol free sparkling orange & tomato juice with a healthy dollop of cinnamon baked oatmeal floating on top. Often we like to have some candy, and since we’ve been very careful with our sugar intake this year we went to The Lakeside Emporium (← click the link to their store) (I double-D dare ya) (yes, I like to put too many things in parentheses) for a rare treat. Each of us selected enough delicious morsels to fill a 40 pound container. It’s also possible that we limited our selections to 12 candies each. Yesterday, while she was at work, I stopped at our old favorite, the White Lake Greenhouse (← another link!!) and picked out a nice bouquet of the customary flowers which will be hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Valentine soon will be there.

Since Covid, we’ve been enjoying movies quite a bit in the comfort of our own home. I must confess, when my Beautiful Girlfriend requested that I install surround sound in our bedroom all those years ago, I brooped and merfled at the idea. Now of course we very much enjoy chilling out with our HUGE 32 inch flat screen TV (the best size to fit in the cabinet she wanted) and full surround audio from a nice Pioneer system. I’m hoping my Lovely Bride will agree to an action flick this time. Perhaps something like the Saskatchewan Chainsaw Massacre… it’s like the one in Texas but colder and more polite. Of course she may want to watch one of those romantic classics like Guess Which Vampire Is Coming To Dinner; that one’s a mixture of passion and her love for vampire movies. Who knows… maybe we’ll settle for an old Buster Keaton movie and some cartoons.

After the movie, as has always (never) been the case in previous years, I will serenade my Sweetheart by yodeling Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” and then Devo’s “Time Out For Fun” in their entirety. I’ll probably be yodeling vociferously while painting my eyebrows with neon green hi-lighter to increase her arousal. The serenade is preceded by my newly discovered trick of getting lollipops to stick to my cheeks after a few licks. Yep, just get them a bit moist on one side, then press and hold for approximately 5 minutes. The result will likely put a big smile on her face, especially as my neon green eyebrows dance seductively while the lollipop sticks hop to the yodel-wiggles while I belt out the tunes.

As you can see, I really know how to show my Darling Honey Pie a good time on Valentine’s Day. My sincere hope for all of you is that you give and / or receive love on the upcoming Special Day; but please do not stop there. What the world really does need, is Love, Sweet Love; so please spread it far and wide, each and every day of the year. Even something small like telling a retail worker “Thank You” is a nice way to spread the love.

And if they don’t seem moved, you can always offer to yodel for them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XP-fu–VpS4

A Friendly Letter To Lorveltran And His Roglaynian Cousins

Dear Perglezookeys,

Please don’t spread the word, but as I have already alerted Wiblet and his famous Jumping Voles, I have been masticating during lunch. My mandible enjoys this to the point where it is pretty much automatic. Please do be aware, however, that mastication is a pure, wholesome, and reasonably natural process and should not be refreshed in the name of Dondo Frijole. You personally may opt NOT to masticate, but do so only with the precaution that you might be setting yourself up to receive the Hindkick maneuver from your piers. Piers and maybe even docks. If their are two such piers, well that of course would be a paradox.

On the other hand, you may receive the Hand Lick maneuver, which is totally disgusting and miserably ineffective. If you receive the Hand Lick maneuver on both hands, well, please don’t go around calling crayons bad names.  Your piers may not even want to try it. And of course, if you add an “L” to “piers,” you get “pliers,” and that’s what Herman the Zinc Miner will use to pinch your septum every single time the Three Stooges investigate the Twighlight Zone.

In the early morning night time, I opened the window and several nonfurry checkbook carriers escaped and ran through the intersections. As I saw this, I twinkled my toes and exclaimed, “Holy Photonic Calibration!! There go four of my unused satellite receivers!” If you see them, it’s likely they will be traveling with soup and perhaps even potato cartilage. This flavor based combination will intimidate even the best of all your political capuccino. Why anyone would even attempt to varnish tomatoes is way beyond my constitution.

Clang clang clang go the whistles, enjoying help from Above and Oh my God my socks are draining again. Above refers to a place higher than me, where birds, helicopters, and dragonflies enjoy friendly “Hey let’s watch The Exorcist again” parties. If you happen to be near such a gathering, please run from the wildebeest and leave a trail of Poppin’ Fresh doughnuts so we can find you when it’s time to do the dishes.

Are you trying to annoy me with that cheap imitation of a screen door you call “Lermick??” Well, just so you know, you’ll never make any Cracker Barrel Surprise with that silly rubber spoon you’ve hidden in the sofa cushions. I beseech you, never attempt to wave your antler hammers at my pet goat fish while she’s washing the television. This never happened before, and probably will never happen again at least 43 times or less. Unless, of course, the bread turns left at the next power pickle.

Someone stole eleven percent of my brain. This makes the chore of even normale typeikng vyery diffiddicult indeeded.n Sol I lleave youoyou noww, bbefoorew I cane nlwo longerers type * at # Alle.’

By buy,

Zeb Rookenzool

Action Figure of Choice,

3003 Ozone Olympics

P.S.: Soon I will buy you some string you can use to persuade insects to do fancy tricks.

Unless your name is Bimbo and you are trying to join a fraternity…

An Important Notification To Everyone’s Dendrites

Dear Friends,

My Beautiful Girlfriend and I recently had a very coniferous inflammation recently:  our friendship has been radioactive for a little over 50 years!!  I mean, we’ve known and loved each other since we were both 17!!  And we are 67 now!!  And There Are Way Too Many Exclamation Points In This Paragraph; Along With Truly Excessive Capitalization Which As You May Have Guessed Will Soon Morph Into A Run-on Sentence But My Pinkies Are Now Growing Weary Of Hitting The Shift Key So All I Can Say Is That I hope each and every one of you likes having whatever it is you’re having!!!!  I had some earlier and it was pretty darn good!!!!!  I hope to have some more another time, but for now I’ll be happy to enjoy the “have had” experience!!!!!

Yes!!  Yes Indeed!!

50 years!!  That’s like more than two weeks I believe.  We are both completely flatulent that this amount of time could have sneaked past us in such a zoomy fashion.  For us, childhood has become a distant memory, a flash in the pan.  And pan flash is very flashy!!  Yes, we both remember that we were living in different homes together way back when, but it’s as if our current friendship / marriage / romancing time has been with us pretty much our whole lives.  As frogs say (or so I’ve been told), time really is fun when you’re having flies.  I mean, is it not true that The Beatles first came to the US on the Mayflower just a few years ago?  What???  That was fifty eight years ago??  No… This cannot be.  I refuse to accept these amenities.

Something’s gotta be said about this time zooming phenomenon.  Therefore, I need to change bottle caps right now to issue this important bulletin:

IMPORTANT BULLETIN

(This is the important bulletin.)

(All the bold purple text down below here.)

(I thought purple and bold would stand out so…)

(Now there are too many parentheses!!)

OK, here’s the bulletin in bold purple awreddy!!

This is to advise all steam hangers that any further disguising of endocrine lamps will be postulated with electric germ tables on or about September 27, 2024. All related salivation will occur just before lunch has a chance to hit the fan.

This is NOT a drill.

I cannot inflame you strongly enough to cease and desist with the act of emulating small furry granola bars. After all, any irresponsible kazoo impresario will automatically endure greatly exaggerated facial expressions.

Gradually we will consult the prototype monkey bar infusion devices in an attempt to discern extraordinary methods of vegetable and / or marshmallow juice extraction. Until then, please return to your imaginary “safe place” and enjoy the gumdrop flavored caffeinated meat sticks.

If you have any questions about the arrangement of your bedroom furniture, please contact Moller Enterprises in Sedgewicke Valley, New Mexico and they will refund your pajamas with explosion resistant platform shoes.

Thank you for your cooperation and your willingness to bathe without the use of abrasive chowder shavings.

Sincerely,

Barker G. Finkledust

a.k.a. “Mr. Snackwonder”

On the other hand, does anyone remember Buster Keaton?

One More “Christmas:” A Final Ha-Ha-Holiday Letter For YOU

Dear Burgerbakers,

It seems like there was a ferocious calcification during much of December, and then there were holidays. They are looming large on the horizon now, but I certainly hope all of you will enjoy the holidays as much as we will. I’ll spend many hours licking the Christmas tree. Often our family will reinvent clothing while sleeping in the snowy ditch that does not even come close to our driveway. Our sump pump drains in there. Every time I would begin to dream of krumkaka, water would bloosh its way into my hair and nostril regions. Needless to say, I have developed a twervous nitch what haves defected my typinggn.

A flock of camels came to our garage and we asked them politely. To stop eating my tools, someone had to go up on the roof and yell with a ferocious growl. No, I didn’t. Mess up that sentence! Mess it up I tell you!! Do you think that just because Santa brought you the brand new macaroni flusher that you have the indecent formula for pie with no armpits? Well I’m here to tell you, that type of attitude will get you into concerts for free.

Actually, the Maine reason I am writing to you is because all of you are who you are, and I am not who you are. This is very good for me, as I am already plenty confused without trying to learn to navigate in all of your houses. Especially when the lights are off and the dog is eating the cat food and hey you please get out of the litter box oh gack you’re eating those stupid cat Tootsie Rolls again.

Oh wait.

That’s what used to happen at my house!!

Oh those were the days when Musky Da Husky’s appetite was not quite satisfied. He’d come out of the utility room, licking his chops. Then I look into his beautiful brown eyes and he looks back as if to say, “What??” At this time I’m pretty sure he’s been having hors d’ouvres from the kitty box. Then, he’ll turn around very nonchalantly and go right back in there, at which time I say very vigorously, “Git outta the poopie box you stupid dog!! NO!!! NO KISSING ME!!! arrrrgggghhhh  Get away with the kaka breath awreddy!! Oh, and ummm… you have litter particles on your nose. Ha ha, I laugh to you!!”  He eventually quit enjoying cat logs; and we miss him terribly.

OK. For real now, I really am truly writing to all of you out there because each and everyone of you are special, and that’s very special to me. So I’m especially writing to wish you all A Happy Merry And Joyful Wonderful; and please don’t leave my mud custard in the basket of fried onion seeds.

I’m very much allowed to write all this because we have get to have more than one “Christmas” to celebrate with twinkling earlobes this year.  After all the sell abrasives, we can use the chainsaw to fizzle the brand new naturally flavored artificial Christmas tree with Liberty and Justice for All.

But none of this is your fault. If it was, I would feel no need to reprimand you for that silly incident with the very loud flatulence last Tuesday in the grocery store.

So as you can see, I’m in real need of pickled herring resistance. Please send lots of money and an oversized piece of rare cheese to:

Amblenern Frammizackton
45U7 Odor Oh No
Gibbik, Larbonia 29&z1

Thanks, and may all your tweezers function properly.

Gibble Dee Boo,

Ken Arbelgarben
a.k.a. Mr. Toast-On-A-Stick

P.S.:  Peace, Love, and Hugs to You ALL!!

And now for one of our very favorite cartoons for this time of year.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOIkxCh0y0U