Oh Dear Readers! Look what crossed my path yesterday at the used bookstore!
Here’s 1963, Master’s Champion Jack Nicklaus singing the praises of the MacGregor Woods with their exclusive penetrating impregnation method! Wow! Now that’s impressive!
The ad goes on to explain that the exclusive penetrating impregnation method was the most talked about club feature in golf! (Well, I should say so!) “Because it let’s you use a wood with confidence in bad lies.” Gosh I wonder if Tiger knows about this?
Hey! Who doesn’t want to live in a world where shirts were only $5.00 raise your hand!
Stuffed shirts didn’t come any less wrinkle-free than in 1963 thanks to Docoma Breeze shirts boasting Grip-Tab, Dress ‘n Play, Blake collars — which only cool city dwellers could afford at $5 a pop. And if that didn’t make a man want to drive around Manhattan, mannequin-like, in a car three-sizes too small –1963 doesn’t know what did!
Don’t Worry Honey! Kent’s Micronite Filter makes cigarettes good for you!
Apparently back in 1963, the key to smoking fun was getting the cigarette to have the mildest taste of all! Kent was hoping that smokers wouldn’t put 2 and 2 together and realize that the mildest taste of all would be not smoking any cigarettes at all.
Question! What’s more fun than shooting guns with daddy? Shooting guns with daddy in the house! What else?
What better way for fathers to bond with their sons and to teach their sons to grow up to be men than by shooting bb guns with them in the house? Oh sure, a few of mother’s prized figureens may have to be sacrificed, and little Suzie’s buttox will probably never be the same — but it’s a small price to pay for teaching little boys what it really means to be a man — 1963 style!
Now then wasn’t that fun? I hope you liked our little foray into the world of 1963, Dear Readers!
Hello Dear Readers! For those of you who just woke up from a coma, congratulations! You’re just in time for Christmas!! Don’t worry if you haven’t got your shopping done yet. I haven’t either and I haven’t even been in a coma. So while I’m out shopping, here’s a little Christmas shopping story about the year my daughter wanted a My Size Barbie!
Big Bucks Barbie
One year my daughter asked Santa for a “My Size Barbie.” A “My Size Barbie” is a Barbie doll that has been fed huge amounts of hormones at the factory causing her to become the size of Daryl Hannah.
To ensure that “My Size Barbie” would be in stock, I went to the toy store early. I approached the Barbie aisle and was about to ask where I might find The Big One, when I tripped over a humongous box containing “My Size Barbie” nearly breaking “My Size Arm.”
The adrenalin rush I experienced from the fall enabled me to heft the package containing The Incredible Babs onto my cart, but not being Arnold Schwartzenegger (or even Maria Shriver), I wasn’t strong enough to maneuver the box so that I could see the price tag.
I inched my Barbie-burdened cart to the checkout stand where it took four of us to hoist The Big Gal onto the scanner, and I mentally noted that perhaps some low-fat Barbie cuisine would make an apropos stocking stuffer.
Being an alert consumer, I had estimated the price at around $40, $50 or maybe even $60.
“Do you know how much this is?” I asked the clerk.
“I’ll let you know in a sec, hon,” she said as she fired up the jaws of life to help her run Buxom Barb over the scanner.
As I waited for the price to appear, I recalled a Christmas of long ago when I had received a Barbie Dream House. My mother had lovingly assembled it all by herself. It had taken her the better part of the Kennedy administration.
Assembles in four years
That had been my favorite Christmas and I owed it all to my mother and to my Barbie. How ironic that this Christmas I would be giving my daughter The Mother of All Barbies.
“Excuse me ma’am? The “My Size Barbie’ is $128. Did you still want it?”
One-hundred and twenty-eight dollars! Suddenly everything began to move in slow motion. I could feel myself turning white . . . then red . . . then green . . . like an aluminum Christmas tree on a rotating stand.
I looked at the clerk, then back at the 20 or so people waiting in line behind me. They were all staring at me and sighing a lot. Maybe they were thinking that I shouldn’t let my daughter down for a few lousy bucks and that I should forget the expense because, after all, it was Christmas. Finally, a gentleman from the back of the line offer his advice:
“Move it lady!”
Then the clerk from the neighboring checkout stand shouted over, ” My niece has one of those and they can wear the same clothes!” And then, just to bring it on home, she added, “I think she comes with an entire wardrobe!”
The clerk and I quickly tried to figure out how many outfits were included, but that information was on the opposite side of the box and somebody else was using the forklift.
In the end, I paid with a check so big it would have made “My Size Barbie” proud. And as the crane lowered The Ultimate Barbie onto the roof of my car, I knew in my heart I had made the right decision.
“A little to the left!”
When Christmas morning came, my little girl would open her very special present, and the wonder and joy that is Christmas would be captured again for one brief, shining moment.
I say brief because the day after Christmas, I made “My Size Barbie” go out and get a job.
Welcome Dear Readers! Today the Toaster Reviewer Gal was kind enough to drop by the blog and leave a copy of the cover letter she wrote for a Toaster Reviewer job she is hoping to get. Let’s take a look at it, shall we?
Position Applied for: Toaster Reviewer
Dear Hiring Manager:
Your posting on LinkedIn for a Professional Toaster Reviewer recently caught my eyes, perked up my ears and blew my nose (jk). I think you will find that I am an exceptional candidate for the position of Toaster Reviewer.
While I have been temporarily out of work for the last three years (don’t ask), I have still managed to stay on top of my game in the field of toaster reviewing.
You see, I currently own and operate a Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, upon which I keep my Toaster Reviewing skills as sharp as a butter knife by making toast each morning and recording all my thoughts and feelings about my toasting adventures in my journal entitled, “Scraping to Desired Lightness” (which is currently making the rounds at various publishing houses on the island of Guam, btw).
As an accomplished Toaster Reviewer, many of my reviews can be found on many high-level consumer review toaster websites such as:
So You’re Going to Have a Piece of Toast(www.soyou’regoingtohaveapieceoftoast.com)
Unplug the Smoke Detectors Kids!, Mommy’s Makin’ Toast! (www.goop.com).
But my accomplishments do not end there. I also offer exceptional attention to detail and come to the position with my private list of some of the most powerful toaster-review adjectives in the Toaster-Reviewing industry today–which I have gleaned over the course of my career as an international Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal!
As a Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal, I have written these e-books, which are, unfortunately, only available on Amazon Guam, but still!
My accomplishments and qualifications are further detailed in my hard copy resume which is on it’s way to you via the Guam postal service. Please disregard the burned edges, frankly the Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, still has some bugs that need working out in my professional opinion as a Professional Toaster Reviewer Gal (see above).
In closing, I am as thrilled about being a part of your Professional Toaster Reviewer team as you must be at receiving this cover letter from me. (That’s a Haiku, btw!)
Please contact me at my earliest convenience, and I look forward to our mutual admiration.
Everybody’s Favorite Toaster Reviewer Gal!
And there you have it, Dear Readers, and I don’t know about you but I think she’s got a pretty good chance. Especially if there’s an opening in Guam!
Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today in Sunday school Gregory couldn’t wait to get home to tell everyone about what he learned about the Garden of Eden. Let’s listen in, shall we?
What God Hath Whittled
When last we left God, He had just finished making Adam out of dirt. Adam turned out great, much better than the dust bunnies God had made the previous day — which even He had to admit didn’t resemble bunnies that much.
Then God put Adam in the Garden of Eden that God had just planted all by Himself. He tried to elicit Adam’s help, but Adam was horrible at taking initiative. God wanted to fire Adam and replace him with someone more competent but He came to this conclusion only after He had used the last of the dirt for potting soil.
After watching Adam live in the Garden of Eden ad nasuem, it soon became apparent to God that Adam was a bit of a mess cat. It wasn’t long before Adam had overrun the pond with dirty dishes, strewn banana peels everywhere and overflowed the laundry hamper with dirty fig leafs.
Then the Lord said, “It is not good for the man to live alone. I will make a suitable companion to help him.” To which Adam replied, “Hallelujah!”
So God made a quick trip to the Soil-Eleven and got some more dirt and formed all the animals and birds. Then He brought them to Adam to see what Adam would name them. Biblical Scholars believe the conversation might have gone something like this:
God: So, Adam, what do you want to name this really cool animal thingie I just made that has a tail like a beaver, a bill like a duck, webbed feet and this really cool spiky-thing in the back that has poison in it?
God: Kitty. Really? That’s it. Kitty?
God: That’s the best you can come up with?
Adam: Don’t you like Kittypus?
God: Not really.
Adam: Is it made out of dirt?
God: Actually I made this one out of Playdough.
Adam: How about Playdough Pus?
God: Okay, but only if you’re sure it won’t get mangled in the translation thousands of years from now.
Adam: I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life — except that I hate the taste of apples.
When God realized that none of the animals was going to be a suitable companion to help Adam, He decided using dirt as a construction material just wasn’t cutting it.
But hey! Speaking of cutting it . . . –why not cut a bone out of Adam and use it to make his companion? (This was way before baling wire had been invented.)
The Lord posed this question to Himself out loud but quietly so Adam wouldn’t hear Him. But Adam did hear and tried to run away by running around and around the Tree of Knowledge.
God tried explaining to Adam that it wasn’t going to do any good to run away because the question was rhetorical, but Adam didn’t know what rhetorical meant as, up to that point, anyway, he couldn’t stand the taste apples.
Finally, God stuck His Almighty Foot out and tripped Adam and Adam fell down into a deep sleep. Then God thought, what bone can I take out of Adam that he won’t miss?
Then God snapped His almighty Fingers. He would take out Adam’s middle ear bone, the stirrup. But when God went to take it out, He saw that Adam had broken it when he fell — so God had to put a cast on it instead.
Then God remembered how much fun it had been making Adam’s ribs. All He had to do was put the mud in His hands, close His fist and Voila! All you can eat ribs!
So the Lord God decided to use Adam’s rib to make a companion for Adam. He figured Adam would never know the difference anyway, because as much as God was loath to admit it, it was beginning to look like the Tree of Knowledge was kind of a lost cause on Adam.
So God pulled out one of Adam’s ribs and began whittling away everything that wasn’t a woman . . .
Well that’s all Gregory had time for today, Dear Readers. Please check back next week to find out what exactly it is that God hath whittled.
Back in the 50’s, life was a lot simpler than it is now. The only people who wore seat belts were test pilots. The only people who wore helmets were human cannon balls, and the only people who didn’t smoke like chimneys were nuns.
But when it came to illnesses, we were all pretty much screwed.
We fifties babies were issued one vaccine in the hospital for small pox, and then we were sent home to not die of smallpox. But for everything else, we babies were on our own.
We had to take our chances out there in the cold, cruel, lard-infested world with nary a helmet, a shin pad or a government-approved baby car seat to protect us. (To be fair, my baby brother did have a car seat. It hooked to the middle of the front seat and had a steering wheel.)
Come to think of it, just making it home from the hospital alive was a miracle. Since there were no car seats, I suppose some babies might have bought the farm by rolling off the back seat when Dad slammed on his brakes.
But whenever that happened I think they just flipped a uey and went right back to the hospital and grabbed another baby. After all, this was the 50’s, and there were plenty more where that came from.
Fun Fact: Whenever anyone ordered a round for the bar back in the 50’s, they were talking about a round of babies.
Anyway, once we made it home alive, the first thing we did was get sick with one of the following childhood illnesses:
Measles were little red spots that would suddenly appear all over your body. One minute you’d be pulling the string on your Chatty Cathy and then next minute, Ping! Ping! Ping! You’ve got the measles! They didn’t hurt or itch or anything. You just had to go around looking stupid.
There were two types of measles: The Three-day Measles and the dreaded . . . gulp . . . Red Measles! Everybody said you could die from the Red Measles, so you got to eat more ice cream with the Red Measles than with the Three-Day Measles because that bowl of vanilla ice cream you were enjoying just might be your last.
When I had the Red Measles, my mother wouldn’t let me watch television because they thought that watching TV when you had the Red Measles could cause blindness. Honestly! So I listened to soap operas on the radio. It’s the only time I ever listened to soap operas broadcast over the radio. And on a scale of one to ten enjoyment-wise, I’d give radio soap operas a measly one, frankly.
Okay, mumps were the weirdest thing ever. First of all, there’s the name Mumps. To me it always sounded like something you’d call the grandpa you didn’t like very well. “Oh great here comes Grandpa Mumps! Quick hide the pie!”
But also, if you thought you looked stupid when you had the measles, it was nothing and I mean nothing compared to the stupid you looked when you had the Mumps.
Warning: I’m going to stick a picture in here of someone who has the Mumps. If you’re eating, you might want to leave the room:
Okay, I googled mumps and this came up. I have no idea what is going on here, but whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be going well.
I have a feeling Grandpa Mumps is behind this!
Back in the 50’s, 9 out of 10 kids, chose tonsillitis as their “go to” stay home from school illness. I know I did. And so did my brother, Peter. Peter, however, pulled it one too many times and suffered a fate worse than staying home everyday getting to eat ice cream. “He had to have his tonsils pulled.” Mind you, he could have had “a procedure to have his tonsils removed” but they didn’t sugar coat things back in the fifties — except for every morsel of food you put in your mouth.
Having your tonsils out was a little bit better than having the Red Measles though. For one thing, you got to watch TV without the worry of going blind(unless you had a really bad surgeon) and you got to bang on a pan with a spoon if you need more ice cream because it hurt to yell “Can I have more ice cream!”
All in all, having your tonsils out wasn’t such a bad thing. Except you never got to use it as an excuse to stay home from school again so it definitely had it’s down-side.
Unless you were lucky enough to come down with an appendicitis — but back in the 50’s we were still using our appendix as a second stomach. We still needed our second stomachs.
Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Let’s listen in and see what Gregory learned in Sunday school this morning, shall we?
Satan Tests Job
Job was a biblical character who lived in the holy land of Uz believed by scholars to have been located somewhere over the rainbow — providing there had there ever been enough moisture in the holy land to form a rainbow.
Job was always extremely careful when it came to ticking off the Lord. So much so that when any of his kids thew a party, Job would spend the next morning making sacrifices to the Lord just in case one of his kids might have inadvertently insulted the Lord after one too many fig wine coolers.
Cut to the Lord’s Heavenly Conference Room where The Lord was having a meeting with various heavenly beings one of which was Satan himself:
The Lord: Did everybody get their handouts on Sacrificing Do’s and Don’t’s and does anybody have any questions? Yes, the heavenly being with the horns and the name tag that says Santa. What’s you question, Santa?
Satan: Yeah, my name’s not Santa, by the way, it’s Satan, that’s a typo I caused to happen. Bwahaha!
The Lord: I don’t get it, what do you mean by typo?
Satan: It’s a . . . oh never mind.
The Lord: So what have you been up to, Satan?
Satan: Oh you know, walking here and there, roaming around the earth and holding Idle Hands Workshops for the aristocrats, the usual.
The Lord: Well that’s just super! Say, did you happen to notice my servant, Job, he’s like the best worshiper I’ve ever had! He never does anything evil!
Satan: Yeah, that’s because he’s got 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 1,000 head of cattle, 500 donkeys and lord only knows how many cats.
The Lord: That’s not true. I have no idea how many cats he has.
Satan: Bwahaha! There you go again with your sense of humor!
The Lord: My sense of what?
Satan: Never mind. Say, I’m just wondering . . . what about testing Job to see if he would still be such a Goodie-Two-Shoes if his life suddenly became a living hell. I could help you out with that.
The Lord: Well . . . . .
Satan: Ah come on!
The Lord: Well I guess, but only if you promise not to hurt Job. You know how hard it is nowadays to find a good Job.
Satan: Bwahaha! You crack me up!
The Lord: Am I to understand that is your awkwardly worded request stating your desire to be cracked up?
Satan: Say will you look at that! It’s half-past eternity already. Where does the time go? I gotta skedaddle. See ya around, Lord.
Sometime shortly thereafter the following events took place:
Job’s children were having a feast at the home of his oldest son when a servant came running up to Job, huffing and puffing:
Servant: We were plowing the fields and got attacked! All your donkeys were stolen and all your servants were killed!
Job: But they didn’t kill you?
Servant: Yeah . . . (still huffing and puffing) . . . except for me.
Job: Oh great you’re the only slave I have left? And you’re not even in that good of shape.
Then another servant came running up to Job, huffing and puffing.
Servant: Lightening just struck all the sheep and shepherds and everyone was killed but me.
Job: Hmm . . . I’m starting to sense a pattern here.
Just then another servant came running up to Job, huffing and puffing.
Servant: Your children were having a feast at the home of your oldest son when a storm swept in and blew the house down and killed them all.
Job: Except for you . .
Servant: Yeah, how’d you know?
Job: Lucky guess.
After that Job tore his clothes in grief and shaved his head which was the standard biblical procedure when someone a) broke a new pottery water-carrying vessel b) misplaced their dreidel or c) had all their children and animals slaughtered by Satan.
This is about the time the Lord turned on his Heavenly Conference Room hidden earth video camera and observed Job when he said, “I was born with nothing and I will die with nothing. The Lord gave, and now he has taken away. May his name be praised!
In spite of everything that had happened, Job did not sin by blaming The Lord.
It’s a good thing too since Job had nothing left to kill.
And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday school this week, come back next week at this same to so see what new bible lesson Gregory learned about!
Marlene Frappuzio –the bestselling author of “The Wind Only Blows on Thursdays” — sat at her keyboard, fingers poised, waiting for an idea. Any idea. Having already spent the advance for her much anticipated, but as yet unwritten, sequel to “Shut the Window!” Marlene was desperate for an inspiration, desperate for a plot, desperate for a drink of water. Marlene took a drink of water. One desperation down, two to go.
“Hey, honey, I’m organizing my vitamins!” Howard Frappuzio, Marlene’s awkward husband, announced, walking into the room. He was holding a shoebox full of vitamins and accidentally tripped –sending hundreds of vitamins flying everywhere.
Marlene stifled a scream of frustration — one that bordered on hair-raising, but stopped just short of blood-curdling.
“Sorry dear,” Howard was on his hands and knees now picking up vitamins one by one and returning them to the shoe box. Kerplink, kerplink, kerplink . . .
All that kerplinking suddenly inspired a revolutionary idea to pop into Marlene’s mind — an idea as welcome as a sign on a long stretch of deserted highway announcing: All you can eat buffet! Restrooms open to the public!
That’s it! Marlene would write about murder by way of vitamin overdose! Oh sure, it was only a crude notion of a plot now, but it just might work. She’d have to try a little experiment first, however.
Kerplink . . . “I’ll get out of your hair, honey, just as soon as I’m done picking upthese vitamins.” Howard said.
* * *
Marlene pushed her chair back from the dinner table and contemplated her dead husband, Howard, as he lay face down in his cream of mushroom soup — which had been iron-fortified to the point of death — and dialed 911.
“Hello? Yes, I think my husband’s dead! Send someone over!”
Marlene bent down and began picking up vitamins. The murder she had just committed was perfect! Perfect except for one thing. She really should have waited until Howard was done picking up all these vitamins. kerplink . . . kerplink . . . kerplink . . .
Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s Edition of the Gregory’s Bible Stories! This week Gregory is still away a Vacation Bible School learning about biblical swimming pools.
Jesus and the Pool of Bethesda
It was time for the Annual Jews and Sabbath Potluck dinner and Jesus (who always got invited to everything) decided to attend. Nobody knows what dish Jesus typically brought to these things, but chances are he just whipped up something Johnny on the spot.
Anyway, in order to get to the potluck, Jesus had to pass by the Jerusalem Sheep Gate behind which the sheep who were going to be sacrificed lived.
In biblical days people were cruel to sheep and kept them for the express purpose of killing and sacrificing them. Unlike today, where people only keep sheep for the express purpose of killing and eating them.
While Jesus was walking past the Jerusalem Sheep Gate, he happened to look over and right next to the sheep gate was the Bethesda Memorial Healing Pool. The pool had five porches upon which lay a lot of unhealthy people waiting to take a dip.
Some of the people were blind,some of the people were paralyzed and some of the people had a really bad case of eczema (sometimes called Leprosy).
This might be a good time to explain that the Bethesda Memorial Pool could cure disease if (and that’s a big if) you were lucky enough to be the first person to jump in the water after a heavenly angel would pop down and stir it with a Heavenly Egg Beater.
After that, the first person to jump inwould get healed and everybody else was up the Bethesda Pool without a paddle until the angel with the Heavenly Egg Beater made another visit.
One man had been waiting in line to jump in the water for 38 years. (It’s not as bad as it sounds because he was waiting in line while lying on his bed.) Jesus saw him he asked, “Do you want to get well?”
The man answered something to the effect that yes he did but he was too paralyzed to be the first one in the pool after the Heavenly Egg Beating.
So Jesus just cut to the chase and said to the man, “Get up, pick up your bed and walk.”
Now Jesus was telling the man to pick up his bed and walk, and this was a task that was considered work which was completely against the law on the Sabbath.
And sure enough, first thing Monday morning, the cured man was in deep trouble with the authorities for aimlessly wandering around carrying his bed on the Sabbath. (After 38 years laying by the pool, he couldn’t remember where he lived).
Authorities: Who told you to carry your bed around on the Sabbath? You’re supposed to be resting.
Cured Man:Sorry, I don’t remember his name . . . I’m terrible with names. I never forget a face though!
Later that day while the cured man was praying in the temple (probably for directions back home), Jesus recognized him and said:
“Listen, you are well now,so stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.”
Jesus must have been wearinghis monogrammed robe because the cured man ran right to the authorities and told them the guy who cured him was named Jesus.
So the authorities hightailedit over to Jesus and demanded that Jesus explain to them why He had worked a healing on the Sabbath.
Jesus answered by saying, “My father is always working and I too must work.”
This really made the authorities mad. Aside from thinking that Jesus and His Dad were Sabbath workaholics; they were also completely put off by the fact that Jesus said his Dad was God.
Naturally this made the authorities want to persecute and kill Jesus even more than they already did.
And the cured man who was wandering around carrying his bed on the Sabbath? Rumor has it he put his back out from hauling his bed around everywhere and ended up right back at the Bethesda Pool.
And there you have it, Dear Readers, I hope you’ll come back next week for another installment of Gregory’s Bible Stories
Welcome Dear Readers to Gregory’s Vacation Bible School. Today Gregory was throwing spit wads so the teacher made him get up in front of the class and tell the story of the time Paul sailed to Rome.
Let’s listen in shall we?
Paul Sails for Rome
Today, our story begins just after the Apostle Paul has been released from prison in the town of Caesarea (home of the Caesarea Salad) after a little misunderstanding between Paul and some Asian Jews or perhaps they were Jewish Asians (Some scholars believe that was the crux of the misunderstanding right there).
Anyway, Julius, a Roman Centurion,and possibly founder of Orange Julius, was to guard Paul while they sailed to Rome where Paul was to stand trial. Julius was kind to Paul and let him drink all the Orange Julius he wanted on their voyage.
But as biblical sailing luck would have it, there soon arose a terrible storm. So in keeping with biblical navigational law, everyone agreed that this would be a perfect time to set sail out onto the open sea, while at the same time double-checking that all the lifeboats were left safely on shore.
Paul tried to talk them allout of it, but they failed to heed his advice — even though Paul’s info came from his special ability to accurately predict weather conditions due to his apostle status with “The Big Cheese and The Little Cheese who were one in the same Cheese.”
The next thing you know,an extraordinarily strong wind kicked up — known as the North-Easter Wind — which was much worse than it sounded.
It just kept blowing and blowing and blowingso that by the next day everybody starting throwing cargo and/or up overboard. Julius even had to dump his oranges.
But that didn’t help, sothey decided to throw the ship’s cutting-edge, navigational devices overboard, which, in those days, consisted of an anchor, a sun-dial and a magical goat purported to know right from left.
Finally, they gave up and lowered the sail and let the ship be carried off by the wind, and that’s when Paul decided it would be the perfect time to get up and make a speech starting with “I hate to say I told you so but . . . ”
Before anyone could get close enough to wring Paul’s neck, he quickly explained that he had been visited by an angel of The Big Cheese who said they would lose the ship but not their lives.
After that, Paul insisted everyone have a nice meal together, which they did, except for Julius who was still pouting about his oranges. Then they threw the rest of the wheat overboard just for kicks and giggles.
Shortly thereafter, they spotted the shoreline of Malta, the ship broke apart, and everybody swam or kick floated to shore, and they all celebrated with the Maltan natives by partaking in a three-day fire, the biblical equivalent of a Luau.
While Paul was collecting firewood,a snake bit his hand and everyone took time out from the festivities to watch Paul die. But not only did he not die, he felt so good he went ahead and healed everyone on the island of dysentery. (They even changed the name of the Island of Malta to the Island of Dysentery but changed it back when tourism started dropping off.)
Paul did make it a point, however, not to drink any of the water after that.
And there you have it! This week’s edition of Gregory’s Vacation Bible School. Be sure and check back next week for morebiblical adventures.
It’s Official! My Metabolism Has Finally Reached Zilch
My metabolism has slowed down so much lately that not only will I gain weight if I even look at a piece of cheesecake — so will the person standing next to me.
Some people complain of a sluggish metabolism. If I could get my metabolism up to sluggish, well . . . I’d be in metabolism heaven, that’s all.
I’ve Got a Metabolism That Punches Out at Noon
I’m starting to get the feeling my metabolism goes home early everyday. I think it’s getting bored with its job. And who could blame it, really. Talk about a backlog of work! Poor Dear.
I would imagine the piles of cheesecake in its In-Basket alone is enough to make even the most dedicated of metabolisms want to call in sick.
What’s a Food Consumer to Do?
Still, even though my heart goes out to my metabolism, it would be nice if it could step up the pace just a little. I’m doing my part by carefully monitoring what I eat. I read all the food labels and whatnot; but it isn’t easy finding a food whose first ingredient is air.
My Life as an Air Fern
I think Mother Nature rigged so it so a woman of my advanced years can live indefinitely on air to keep mankind from going extinct.
My Metabolism Theory
As far as I can tell, Our Family of Humans evolved so that Grandma could keep the cave clean, do all the cooking plus watch the grandkids without having to eat any actual food — which meant Yippee!! Extra helpings of Kentucky-Fried Mammoth for everyone! (Except you know who.)
Me and My Metabolism, Where Would Mankind Be Without Us?
So I suppose one could say, the more sluggish my metabolism, the more I am actually contributing to the survival of the human race. Each and every time I manage to push away a piece of cheesecake without eating it, I am sacrificing that piece of cheesecake for the global good of my fellow Homo sapiens — because now there is just that much more cheesecake for them to eat.
Thus ensuring the survival of our species.
Who knew something operating at zilch could be so noble?
Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about what the Lord planned to do to Egypt if the Egyptian Pharaoh refused to free the slaves. Let’s listen in as he tells us about it.
The Lord’s Big Box of Disasters
After Aaron and Moses’s presentation to the Pharaoh — Bringing Down Your Overhead Costs by Replacing Slave Labor with Levers and Pulleys — had completely fallen flat as far as freeing the slaves was concerned, it was time for Aaron and Moses to make the pharaoh an offer he couldn’t refuse.
It was time to pull out all the stops by utilizing: The Lord’s Big Box of Disasters.
The next morning at the Cheops Holiday Inn Express breakfast bar:
Aaron: I’m going back for more figs, you want anything else, Moses?
Moses: Yeah, toast me some more unleavened bread will ya?
Aaron: I don’t think we have time. Their unleavened bread torch takes forever, and we’ll be late for our appointment with the pharaoh. There’s still plenty of millet though.
Moses: There always is . . . just bring me some more goat bacon.
Later on the banks of the Nile:
Moses: Well, hello Pharaoh! Hi there priests! Thank you so much for meeting us down here on the banks of the Nile. I realize it’s rather unorthodox, but we have a little demonstration for you. Observe!
Moses opens The Lord’s Big Box of Disasters and pulls out a walking stick then waves it over the Nile river turning it into blood.
Pharaoh: Uh huh.
Moses: Well you don’t seem very impressed — you’re stifling a yawn.
Pharaoh: Uh huh. I didn’t sleep very good last night.
Aaron: Me neither. No offense, Pharaoh, but those wooden pillows you guys use are super uncomfortable.
Pharaoh: Uh huh. What other disasters you got in the box, Moses?
Moses opens the box again and millions of frogs jumped out.
Moses: And these frogs are going to get into everything. Your baking pans, your ovens, you beds, your little skirts . . . .
Pharaoh: Uh huh. Big Hairy Deal. What else you got in the box?
Moses: Okaaaay . . . um . . . lets see here . . . how do you feel about gnats? Really mean gnats!
Pharaoh: Uh huh. You’re kidding right?
Moses: Okay, maybe not gnats. But flies! What about flies!!
Pharaoh: Uh huh. You’re threatening me with flies? Seriously?
Moses: Uh . . . oh! Here’s something . . . how about a disease to kill all your animals!! Bwahahaha!
Pharaoh: Uh huh. I’ve never been big on animals. What else?
Pharaoh: Uh huh. Everybody’s already got boils.
Moses: Okay how about hail then? Hail that will hit the boils and sting!
Pharaoh: Uh huh. Whoopty friggin’ doo. What else?
Moses: How do you feel about locusts and being in darkness 24/7?
Pharaoh: Uh huh. Actually, I enjoy both. Is that it?
Moses: There’s just one last thing. A little something the Lord likes to call Passover wherein all the first-born sons will be killed and whatnot. It’s a little more complicated to explain and, frankly, I’d really like to break for lunch.
Pharaoh: Uh huh. Okay, well if it’s as lame as the rest of The Lord’s Big Box of Disasters, I’m totally unfazed, and I’m not letting the slaves go anytime soon and that’s all there is to it.
With that, the pharaoh and his priests walked back to the pyramid. Aaron and Moses could hear them laughing and making jokes about how many gnats it would take to free the slaves.
Moses: Come on Aaron. Let’s go tell the Lord to put plan Passover into action.
Aaron: Okay, but can we stay at a different hotel tonight? Somewhere where they don’t have wooden pillows?
Moses: What? And miss out on the complimentary breakfast bar? Are you out of your mind Aaron?
When it comes to our feet meeting the ground, there’s more than meets the eye.
That’s because, frankly, I don’t think they’ve got the law of gravity completely right.
When it comes to the natural laws of the universe, there seems to be a lot of perforated lines.
You always hear scientists talking about tears in the ripple of time, somehow making it possible to suddenly travel backwards or forwards in the timeline.
But what, pray tell, if there was a way to put a tear in the ripple of gravity, somehow making it possible for every single thing in the universe to suddenly drop those last ten pounds.
Now that’s what I call a natural law with some legs!
Allow me to get a tad theoretical here, if you will be so kind.
Let’s suppose I weigh 500 pounds. Or better yet let’s suppose YOU weight 500 pounds . . . alright! Now we’re getting somewhere.
Question Number One:
What we want to know is how can a person, such as yourself, who weighs a whopping 500 pounds coerce gravity in such a way that it would allow you to instantaneously go from a 500-pound Tub-of-Lard to a 115-pound Tub-of-Vegetable-Oil in a matter of nano-seconds?
The Answer to Question Number One:
The Answer is: fool around with some equations until you find a frayed edge in the ripple of gravity, give it a good yank and hello skinny jeans.
Question Number Two:
Oh, rest assured, I can hear your little voice in my head asking, “How can an ordinary layperson, such as myself –someone who is still shaky on the multiplication tables — go from being a Mathematic Ne’er-do-well to a Mathematic Nerd-do-well with nothing to work with but a dream, a hand-held calculator and a 500-pound friend-in-need, such as yourself? Good question! In fact, I am officially making it Question Number Three!
Question Number Three:
Let’s Talk Specifics
To figure out how to tear gravity using mathematics, the first order of the day is, of course, a large pepperoni pizza with olives. Then settle down to some serious ciphering and re-ciphering by deciphering the numbers and letters previously scribbled on a blackboard during a deep sleep. This is a challenge if ever there was one.
But keep at it until you are able to find a loose thread either in the ripple of gravity, or failing that, in the cable- knit sweater you’re wearing. Then pull the thread gingerly at first, then saltly and pepperly after that.
Before you know it, you’ll have a tear in the ripple of gravity as big as the great outdoors!
After that, it’s just a matter of finding a sale on skinny jeans. And to that noble end, I heartily wish you the best of luck!