DATING TIPS FOR PSYCHOPATHS

BABY BOOMER QUIZ

Tue, 02 Sep 2008 04:46:05 GMT

So Pennie and I were goofing around last night, when a friend of ours e-mailed the following BABY BOOMER QUIZ over. Reluctant as I am to brag ...we rolled through this sucker like the Wermaht through the Polish frontier.

Simply complete the following sentences:

Raised in the woods so he knew every tree / Kilt him ((7 words)

She wore an itsy bitsy teenie weenie ((3 words)

Hey kids. What time is it? (4 words)

M-I-C . . . See you real soon. K-E-Y . . . (5 words)

Before he was Skipper's little buddy, Bob Denver was Dobie's best friend (3 words)

Superman, disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never ending battle for truth, justice and (3 words)

Where have all the flowers gone? (5 words)

You'll wonder where the yellow went (7 words)

I'm Popeye the sailor man! I'm Popeye the sailor man! I'm strong to the finish (5 words)

You're all invited back next week to this locality / to get a (5 words)

Good night, Chet (3 words)

Bonus points

Where were you on November 22, 1963 when you first heard that John F. Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas?

Whistle the theme to "The Andy Griffith Show

ANSWERS

Kilt him a b'ar when he was only three

yellow polkadot bikini

It's Howdy Doody Time!

Why? Because we like you.

Maynard G. Krebs

truth, justice and the American way

gone to young girls everyone

when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent

cause I eats my spinach

to get a heapin' helpin' of their hospitality

Good night, David

A SENIOR MOMENT

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 17:49:06 GMT

Uh-oh!

This morning when I sat down to breakfast, I definitely heard a “SNAP”, “CRACKLE” and “POP”.

Unfortunately, my breakfast consisted of an omelet, two waffles and a cup of coffee ... there wasn’t a ‘RICE KRISPEE’ within a two mile radius.

I took it as a sign that I might be getting old.

My grandfather used to tell me that you knew you were old when you and your teeth never spend the night together.

Well, it hasn’t gotten that bad yet ... but I’m the only dude in this venue who remembers MR. GREENJEANS, THERESA BREWER, S&H GREEN STAMPS AT THE A&P, and when WOODY ALLEN was funny. This does not bode well, I’m afraid.

When I get to the point when I reach for a bottle of VIAGRA and then I forget what it’s for ... well, that’s when I’ll circle the wagons, Jack!

The way things are going, that may be early next week.

OLYMPIC CHROMO

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 21:14:48 GMT

Because of this summer’s Olympics - specifically, the prime-time coverage of the Beijng Games on NBC - I’m having the best time of my life since I was 22 years old.

See, every evening at 8, Pennie and I hunker down in front of the boob-tube to watch the competition. Now since there’s a 12 hour difference between New York time and Chinese time, many of the events are broadcast live.   And yours truly is predicting the outcome of these contests with unerring accuracy. Pennie is truly amazed at my powers of prognostication!   I not only predict the Gold medal winners, but the Silver and Bronze, too.

And I’ve devised a way to cash-in big time on this obvious analytical skill.   If I’m wrong about this, I tell her, then I promise to clean out the garage or yank the weeds. But if I’m right ... then, I tell her. she has to help me later that night plumb the depths of sexual depravity.

It’s worked like a charm so far, baby !

The sad truth is though - unbeknownst to Pennie - I’m cheating my ass off!

There’s a 3-hour tape delay in the broadcast here in L.A., see. This gives me plenty of time to find an excuse to get on my laptop and ‘divine’ the results of the evening’s competitions, man.

I know, I know ... eventually she’s going to get wise to my scam ... and then I’m in deep shit!   I wouldn’t be surprised if she hires some guy to murder me at that point.

But until then, I’m riding the crest of this particular wave of carnal nirvana, thank you ... until she finally lowers the boom

Got to go now ... the UPS dude just dropped a package off at our front door.   It’s probably the black bustier with the garter belt ... just in time for tonight’s Olympics.

BLOWIN' IN THE WIND

Sat, 02 Aug 2008 21:48:39 GMT

I’ve flipped through Emily Post and Miss Manners without any success. I’ve glanced at assorted Etiquette books and pamphlets in the vain hope that someone out there could possibly shed some light on my vexing question. No luck.

The question is quite simple: Is there a politically correct procedure or pithy phrase one can utilize in polite society after the venting and fuming a audibly-vibrant discharge of metabolic anal gas? In other words: What can you possibly do or say in fancy-assed climes after ripping off a loud and aromatic fart?

Granted, it’s not a problem with people on my own socio-economic level. If, for example, I cut a fetid depth charge at, say, the local bowling alley ... well, my pals will simply shower me with a barrage of derisive guffaws. But what works at ‘LUCKY LADY LANES’ does not necessarily click at a la-de-da dinner party in Brentwood.

In such high-toned circumstances would a feeble, “EXCUUUUSE ME” be sufficient? Somehow I doubt it. Maybe I could run around, waving my arms and screaming, “EARTHQUAKE! EARTHQUAKE! EVERYBODY UNDER THE TABLE!” or even better, “GEEZ, THAT WAS GREAT MEATLOAF, PEN” However you slice it, you can see where I need professional guidance on this tricky subject.

Then there are those dicey situations where you rip-off a boisterous raspberry in in a wholly inappropriate environment ... like during the Homily of a Solemn High Mass or during the ‘Largo’ passage of a Symphony.

Oh, help me, Miss Manners!

SHAKE, RATTLE AND ROLL

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 03:26:59 GMT

Today, just before noon, we had a freaking earthquake here in Southern California. Pennie and I were down in the sunroom shooting the shit when - boom! - the windows rattled and the ground rolled beneath us ... crap fell off shelves, kitchen cabinet doors swung open and we were both scared shitless that our roof was going to come crashing down right on our nogs. It only lasted 10 or so seconds , but when it was over, our cat - who was outside at the time - staggered back into the house, totally freaked-out; her fur was virtually standing straight up and then she ran pell-mell in a circle on the living room carpet for about three minutes.

Come to think of it, that was sort of the same reaction exhibited by our local news media in L.A.. Here it is approximately 8:30 PM and - I swear! - they’re still at it.

BLACK AND WHITE AND UN-READ ALL OVER

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 19:41:01 GMT

For all his philosophical double-speak, maybe Marshal McLuhan was correct when he predicted back in the 60s that, among other things, the print media would eventually be supplanted by more visual, ‘tactile’ media.

I mean, when was the last time you spotted a person under, say, 30 reading a damned newspaper?   I hate to make myself sound like a self-righteous old fart, but both Pennie and I would be virtually lost if we didn’t digest our morning papers - usually over a cup of ‘joe’, a cigarette and a bagel.   In fact, most of our generation scans at least one newspaper per diem.

Not so, this younger bunch.

And the weird and troubling thing is: Neither do they gleam their news from the television, either.   Ratings for all three major cable news networks show a definite paucity of younger viewers.

So you can’t help wondering: Where the hell do these kids derive their view of the world in the first place? Miley Cyrus?   SpongeBob SquarePants?

Pretty scary shit, eh?

And if I were given a dollar for every time I saw a teenager’s face buried in a book over the last 15 years ... I’d now have a grand total of 25 or so clams to my name.

Back in my day, man ... I used to STEAL books!

MEAT MADNESS

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 06:13:08 GMT

Reluctant as I am to engage in metaphysical speculation ... the question has come up: Just how bad is Pennie’s meatloaf?

Well ...

. The smoke detector always goes off seconds before the meatloaf goes in the oven.

. She serves ‘PEPTO-BISMOL’ as an appetizer.

. The local Health Department recently boarded-up our kitchen.

. No one can tell the difference between her meatloaf and a cinder block,

. Outbreaks of gastric diseases are common in our household.

. Dinner is ready when the first fire engine arrives.

. After every bite, you wonder if it was the meatloaf or your teeth that just crunched.

. The fire department knows Pennie’s voice when she calls.

. I can use a slice of her meatloaf to scour the kitchen sink.

. Flies have chipped-in to fix the hole in the screen door.

. Even the dog asks, ‘WHERE’S THE CATSUP?’

. The L.A. County D.A.’s office has opened a massive posoining investigation against Pennie.

. We need to file an environmental impact statement before we can throw any of the meatloaf out.

. The Pentagon just classified her meatloaf as a W.M.D.

. Yesterday, Pennie’s meatloaf asked me for a ride home.

POOP-CHUTE LAWS

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 05:21:50 GMT

Imagine trying to define, in 25 words or less, the ‘infield fly rule’ to a Czechoslovakian who’s never seen a baseball game.

Or trying to explain to your 11-year old, literal-minded grandchild - who thinks ‘METAPHOR’ is a new high-tech firm on Route 128 - the meaning to the finale of ‘2001, A SPACE IDIOCY’ ... er... ‘ODYSSEY’.

Not so easy, is it?

One of the most daunting tasks anyone calling himself a writer ever needs to face is explaining something to another person - or instructing another person how to do something.    In other words; technical writing.

There’s the case, for example, of some product from Japan called, ‘POSCOOL’.   ‘PROSCOOL’ apparently is some kind of hemorrhoidal medical device - the instructions read as follows - and I’m not making any of this up: “LIE DOWN ON BED AND INSERT PROSCOOL SLOWLY UP TO THE PROJECTED PORTION LIKE A SWORD-GUARD INTO ANAL DUCT WHILE INSERTING PROSCOOL FOR APPROXIMATELY FIVE MINUTES. KEEP QUIET.”

Hold it, pal!

‘Keep quiet’? KEEP QUIET?

Listen, buddy: If I ram something up my ca-ca canal like, “a sword-guard” - trust me on this - ‘QUIET’ is the last thing I’m going to be!

Granted, the poor copywriter who penned this gem obviously doesn’t speak English on a regular basis - but Lawdsy me! convoluted prose is convoluted prose.

Come to think of it ... this guy would be a perfect candidate for writing U.S. Federal Laws. I mean, did you ever try READING a federal law? It’s like verbal Nembutal. Half way through the damned thing you either lapse into a dolorous torpor or become totally unconscious.   It’s language crammed with turgid legalese mumbo-jumbo.

Besides, the aim of most of our laws is to royally ream the Public up the you-know-what.

This Japanese guy would be a natural.

STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 21:18:36 GMT

Boy, the Chino, California City Council must have a shitload of free time on their hands!   Not too long ago, this august political entity passed an ordinance fining anybody $500 for detonating - I’m serious - an atomic bomb within city limits.

Stupidity, I’m afraid, is not solely confined to those of us here in God’s country:

In Johannesburg, South Africa a man recently shot his 49-year old friend 4 times in the face, seriously wounding him ... obviously.   It turns out that the two rocket scientists were shooting beer cans off the top of each other’s heads using rifles and live ammunition.

Then there was this broad in Germany who read somewhere that Cleopatra used to take baths in camel’s milk ... it was obviously a cut above ‘OIL OF OLAY’.   At any rate, ignoring the rarity of German camels, this beauty-conscious babe stole a camel from the local zoo one night.   When she got the beast home, she discovered to her chagrin that the camel’s name was, ’OTTO’.

But there are plenty of masterminds right here in the Land of the Free:

Like the 23-year old man in Wichita, Kansas who was arrested at an airport hotel after he tried to pass two counterfeit $16 bills.

And recently, a dude right here in Los Angeles, who later claimed, ‘HE WAS TIRED OF WALKING’, ripped-off a steamroller and led police on a hair-raising, high-speed chase of up to 3MPH.

And I just thought of something:

If everything and everybodyin Chino, California is reduced to a smoldering pile of debris, who the hell is going to hand-out the damned ticket?

FANTASYLAND

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 20:36:56 GMT

The renown physicist and all-round brainiac, Albert Einstein, once said that imagination was better than knowledge.   True enough, I suppose.   But it would be a cataclysmic mistake to underplay ‘knowledge’ too much ... especially if it complements logic and common sense.   Imagination rules! ... but rudimentary ‘smarts’ dovetail nicely with imagination, thank you.

This is especially true of erotic fantasies.

Let’s face it ... every human being over the age of reason has engaged - whether they want to admit it or not - in sexual fantasies ... usually more than once.

In my case, of course, I have a new one about every three hours.

Every so often I get to live out one of these fantasies in real life. It happens maybe every blue moon or so if I’m lucky. The problem is: I get so excited over the prospective carnal hi-jinx, that my brain often takes a permanent dixie.

A case in point: About 20 years ago, my late wife and I shared this fantasy where we made passionate love upon soft silk sheets in a candle-lit boudoir.   Pretty tame stuff, actually...but what the hell! - this isn’t the damned ‘PENTHOUSE FORUM!

At any rate, the two of us arranged a weekend where we were totally home alone.   She got the silk stuff. I got the candles.

Man, I was so worked up about the project, I was sticking candles all over the joint!   And like an idiot, I even put one on the night-stand right next to the bed.

Jumping Jesus ... you should have seen what happened !

As we were flailing around on the silk, a little corner of the sheet came in contact with the flame from the candle.

Baboosh!

Take it from me, pal ... nothing puts the kibosh on an erotic mood faster than having to stand there naked, dousing the conflagration with a chemical extinguisher.