Fish it from the Archives Friday: I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head

Hello Dear Readers and welcome to Friday!  I had a dream last night about the invention of shark bait that resembled little businessmen with feathers for hair.

Businessman Shark Bait that Peanuts Dreamed

I think that my brain, Peanuts, was trying to tell me that it’s time for Fish It from the Archives Friday!

And so I stuck my little businessman bait on a hook and lowered him into the old post bucket and wouldn’t you know he came came up with a post inspired by another line Peanuts dreamed which was:

“I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head”

“I was a cow in Chuck’s head,” is the line my brain, Peanuts, delivered to me this morning just as I was waking up.  Of course, there was no story attached to it.

It was simply a tagline drifting around the tar and driftwood that masquerades as my subconscious mind.

I stayed in bed with my eyes shut pretending to be asleep for the longest time so that Peanuts would dictate the rest of the story to me, but I think Peanuts needs to take a writing class or something because there was nothing more forthcoming.

So it looks like once again, Dear Reader, my brain, Peanuts, has left me holding the bag when it comes to thinking up some sort of scenarios for this title so here goes:

“I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head.”   The Modern Romance

Betty Matilda McFlirp stuck her head out of the plastic enclosure of the bus stop in the pouring rain and looked up the street with her beautiful, brown, bovine-ian eyes imploring the bus to come quickly with every fiber of her being.

For if it didn’t come soon, her white hair was going to frizz up something awful causing her to look more sheep-like than cow-like — which was bound to change her relationship with Chuck profoundly. Because Betty Matilda McFlirp was a cow in Chuck’s head.

“I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head.” The Science Fiction Story

Chuck, a Chucktilian from the planet Chucky — located three-hundred light years to the left of  the Charles Constellation, just happened to land his  alien craft at the bus stop at which it just so happened Betty Matilda McFlirp was sticking her head out of at the time.

Their eyes met and it was love at first, second and third sight, what with Chuck having the three eyes and all.  Chuck’s mission was clear, he had to take Betty Matilda McFlirp back to planet Chucktilian or his passion for her would drive him mad.

A plan was quickly formed in which Chuck would first turn Betty into a cow and then convert her atoms into a thought form and store her in his head for the return trip.

And that’s how Betty Matilda McFlirp became a cow in Chuck’s head.

“I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head.” The Pre-twentieth Century British Romance

Sir Chuck, the Earl of Salisburychuckroast, petitioned his father, the Duke of Noteggsandhamagain if he might marry his childhood sweetheart, Bessie and pointed into the pasture where Bessie, the cow, was busy chewing and digesting her cud in that adorable way she had.

As luck would have it, Lady Betty Matilda McFlirp just happened to be sticking her head out from beneath the thatched roof of the carriage stop by which Bessie was standing.

Thinking that Sir Chuck was pointing to Lady Betty, the Duke of Noteggsandhamagain was overjoyed that his son wanted to marry a girl instead of a cow (which is what all his previous girlfriends had been) and gave his permission for them to marry immediately.

Years later, Lady Betty Matilda Mcflirp would go on to pen her memoirs entitled: I Was a Cow in Chuck’s Head.

And there you have it Dear Readers.  Frankly, I think I have managed to come up with some plausible stories for Peanuts crazy babbling — at least this time anyway!

Until next time . . . I love you

My Brain Peanuts Thinks Up Some Blog Topics

Let me apologize in advance, Dear Readers, for even though my brain, Peanuts,  has been rattling around up in the Noggin Attic all morning trying to shake an idea loose to blog about, Peanuts has only managed to come up with a few lame ideas which are as follows:

You and Your Alfalfa

Peanuts and I thought we might pick up where we left off yesterday and expound on our new-found knowledge contained within the pages of a 1934 government pamphlet about Alfalfa which we now have in our possession– but then Peanuts and I thought we should probably save that post for a more special occasion like Christmas.

Doing math in your head in 1950

OK,  Peanuts and I  found a booklet from 1950 called without paper and pencil that explains how to do math in one’s head.  The book is full of conversations  like this one:

This topic was promising for about five minutes until Peanuts tried to figure out how long it would take me to write something about doing math in one’s head by subtracting 8:45 a.m from 300 words at which point my brain, Peanuts, fell  asleep in my head.

Your Appendix is more important than you think it is

Peanuts and I thought this topic was very, very, very promising until we realized that your appendix isn’t more important than you think it is.

How to chew an eraser like it was a piece of gum and maybe even blow a bubble

Oh this would have been a killer blog topic, and I wanted to do it until Peanuts reminded me there’s no such things as erasers anymore.

Pretending to know what the stock market numbers mean

This sounded promising at first, but after thinking about how much thinking it would actually involve, Peanuts and I  thought . . .  wait a minute, this is a blog not a torture chamber.

Write a blog about absolutely nothing that uses a lot of big bold headlines such as WordPress “Heading 1” to imply importance

Bingo!  And there you have it Dear Reader. Our blog for today! Oh and if you happen to think of any blog topics for me and Peanuts for tomorrow, we implore you to leave them in the comment section.  As you can see, Peanuts and I can use all the help we can get!

Until next time . . . I (and Peanuts) love you


The 1934 Flood of 1934

Hello Dear Readers!  I’ve been shopping my little heart out at the thrift store, and I simply couldn’t believe my luck when I stumbled across this fascinating 1934 Department of Agriculture, Bulletin 1731 about everybody’s favorite grain, Alfalfa! 

First of all, let me begin by saying that this precious bulletin has sustained serious water damage.  Meaning only one thing.  It was in the 1934 Flood of 1934.

By carefully perusing the pages, I was able to ascertain that the owners of  Bulletin 1731 were United States farmers, Ma and Pa Ludd and their little boy, Sheldon and, from what I can tell, they were lucky to escape the 1934 Flood of 1934 with nothing but the shirts on their backs, the pants on their legs and the hairs on their arms.

And yet, somehow this courageous family managed to float through the house and, by kicking their feet at precisely the right coordinates, managed to  rescue their most prized possession, Bulletin 1731.

This was not without a little bit of harm done to Ma Ludd.  Shortly thereafter , her heart started acting up again and Pa had to take her to the doctor in Dusty City.  Pa Ludd waited in the waiting room while Ma Ludd went in to have her heart checked out by Dr. Olcreepee.

“Doctor you’ve been listening now for an hour and a half? Is it still ticking?”
“I think it’s still ticking, but let me just double check again.”

Anyway from what I could glean from reading between the lines of Bulletin 1731, Dr. Olcreepee decided to do some X-rays so he could get a better handle on the situation with Ma.

“What does that look like to you, Nurse?’
“Bulletin 1731?”

It seems Ma had inadvertently swallowed Bulletin 1731 in the confusion of the 1934 Flood of 1934.  And of course, Dr. Olcreepee had no choice but to operate on Ma to removed Bulletin 1731 once and for all.

Shortly thereafter Ma Ludd and Bulletin 1731 were wheeled into the operating room but the only thing that was wheeled out —  still in tact — was Bulletin 1731.  It seems Ma had kicked the bucket as they liked to say in those days.

I know it’s a sad tale but there is some indication that Pa Ludd and Sheldon did get some money from the  “death by swallowing government bulletins” insurance policy that Pa Ludd had the wherewithal to take out on his entire family.

And they all went on to lead long and  happy lives.  Except for Ma who continued being dead.

And there you have it, Dear Reader, a glimpse into the rich history of Bulletin 1731 and the 1934 Flood of 1934.

Be sure and check back tomorrow when we will turn to the first page of Bulletin 1731 and read all about everybody’s favorite grain, alfalfa!

Until next time . . . I love you

Pottery Barn: What’s Wrong with Grams?

Hello Dear Readers!  Today it is time to put laughter and happiness aside, at least momentarily, to conduct a little Pottery Barn Family counseling.  For you see, something is terribly wrong with one of Pottery Barn’s most beloved family members . . . .Grams.

As you can see from this snippet of the Pottery Barn’s Daily System White Board Calendar ($54) of which Gram’s plays an integral part, Grams is usually a very busy gal what with all the Labor Day Truffle hunting and the hours spent picking out cat colors for the bedroom.

But frankly Grams has been acting peculiar lately.  In fact, sometimes Grams’ lucidity is a bit sketchy.

Let’s just come right out and say it,  there’s an elephant in the tastefully designed Pottery Barn Family living room featuring Benchwright Collection (skillfully handcrafted by Canadian people $5,180), and her name is Grams.

For instance, yesterday Grams was supposed to be laying out a stylish brunch for the Pottery Barn Family on the Artisan-made Cambria Cortona buffet (handcrafted by Portuguese Mermen $4,480.99) and, well, things got a little crazy.  A little inexplicable.  A little no longer in touch with reality-ish, if you will.

Let’s take a look at the buffet supper that Grams put together.

As you can see, the first thing Grams did was inexplicably saw off the bed posts from the Pottery Barn Family’s beautifully crafted Claudia Bed Collection (an Edwardian style update — updated by Ed himself $1849), just so she could put it on the buffet table. You can also see that Grams took it upon herself to randomly nail cereal bowls to the wall.

 Uh oh . . . this can only mean one thing. Grams finally discovered where her Pottery Barn Family hid the hammer and the saw from her after the “incident” last spring. . .and where did they hide it?  Why in  the beautifully crafted Andover Drawer Cabinet  (weathered by the tears of  Carolina pine forest wood nymphs $2,249).

“I’ll find me that there hammer and saw if  it’s the last thing I do!” Oh wait . . . here they is in the very first drawer HA!.”  — Grams

Now let’s take a look at the really troubling sign that Grams is completely out of her gourd  by examining  the so-called “brunch” Grams put together.

It seems as plain as the nose on Grams’ face, that Grams is having a little trouble with her ability to carry out even the simplest of tasks like preparing a lavishly stylish brunch that would be pleasing to the collective eyes, ears, nose and throat of her Pottery Barn Family.

First, Grams polished off three large tumblers of wine (in three different glasses).  And then Grams laid out a brunch for her Pottery Barn Family consisting of one giant bowl of potatoes and grapes, one hammer-smashed walnut and half an orange peel.

As you will no doubt agree, the Pottery Barn Family had no choice but to schedule a lobotomy for their beloved Grams — not only for her own good; but for the collective good of the Pottery Barn Family’s home –a home, after all,  that is a vivid reflection of their passions, their dreams and their elegant decorating style.  Sans one crazy old lady, that is!

Until next time . . . I love you and so does Pottery Barn (oh who are we kidding, no they don’t!)

Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: Mr. Whistle’s Whittling

The weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is a real bear and I gotta say I got pretty Jack-rabbitted up about it!

This weekend we want you to write a 33-word response using the name of an animal as a verb.

Mr. Whistle’s Whittling

“Mr. Weasel is certainly aptly named,” remarked Mrs. Whistle to Mr. Whistle when Mr. Weasel weaseled Mr. Whistle out of a pretty piece of whittling and went away whistling Pop Goes the Weasel.

Mrs. Whistler’s Mother-in-law

Strange Headlines from Around the World

Hello Dear Readers, I thought it might be fun to take a look at some of the strange headlines gleaned from the website: unexplained

Man  Swallows a Fork

A man was hospitalized with stomach pains and was found to have had a 9-inch fork lodged inside him for a decade.

It seems the man had accidentally swallowed the fork ten years earlier but was apparently told by somebody (a somebody who was no doubt drunker than he was) that it would pass naturally from his system.

“I can’t believe it,” he is quoted as saying “I have never had any problems with my stomach except once a couple of years ago.”

Judging from this statement it is safe to assume that not only is this man a clumsy eater, but he is also completely incapable of putting two and two together.

Man survives Metal Rod through his Head

A construction worker was working on a building in Brazil when a six-foot metal bar fell from five stories above piercing his hard hat and his skull and protruded out between his eyes. He remained conscious in the ambulance on his way to the hospital where doctors were able to successfully remove it.

The man was very fortunate that there was nobody around to tell him it would pass naturally from his system.

Did Marco Polo Really Go to China?

Archeologists believe famed explorer Marco Polo may have never actually traveled to China at all, and think that it is more likely that Venetian merchant adventurer picked up second-hand stories about China and Japan which he included in his book, “A Description of the World”.

Archeologists have yet to make a formal announcement that children everywhere can stop playing Marco Polo in the swimming pool now and, in fact, should have never been playing it in the first place.   We can only hope that announcement will be coming soon.  Very very soon.

The World’s First Joke Book

A newly translated tablet from ancient Mesopotamia has provided a unique look at early humor.

Archeologists stress that while the jokes in the tablet make no sense to us today, they were highly amusing at the time.  Archeologists do not go on to say how in the world they would know something like this.

One joke not purported to be in the tablet is as follows:

Why did the chicken cross the Appian Way?

So he could stop Roman around.

Ok, it’s not funny now, but archeologists are absolutely certain that 2500 years ago, it would have killed!

One small step for . . . oh whatever


Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Gunther Randleroot’s Fortuitous Formula Fail

Hello Dear Readers!  This week’s Trifect Writing Challenge was to write a story between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of heart:  3: personality, disposition <a cold heart>

Gunther Randleroot’s Fortuitous Formula Fail

Gunther Randleroot couldn’t believe his eyes as green tears started pouring out of them.  Of course, they were green tears of joy because Gunther never cried tears of sorrow. Gunther was a Martian and nobody liked seeing a Martian cry especially not his girlfriend, Hazel.

Gunther poured the formula that he had finally perfected after seven years of hard work into the beaker like he was pouring out his heart.

When he looked out the window, he was surprised that everything still went on as usual.  He watched as a herd of sporks sauntered lazily about leaving behind a trail of feathers like they always did.

Stupid creatures, Gunther thought. Didn’t they realize that Gunther Randleroot was now the most powerful being in the universe?

All Gunther had to do was nudge the beaker to the floor, and the impact would release enough energy to destroy absolutely everything!  Gunther took a moment to revel in his new-found power — even though he was much, much too cowardly to ever actually use it!

“Whatcha doin’ Gunthy?” Gunther’s girlfriend, Hazel asked. Gunther jumped! He had forgotten to lock the door again. Sporkfeathers! He didn’t want Hazel to know what he was up to.

“Nothing Hazel dear . . . nothing at all!”

“Ah you can tell me Gunthy! You know you can tell me anything!” Hazel batted several coquettish eyes at Gunther, and he immediately spilled the beans.

Not the formula in the beaker beans, but the can of Martian beans he was getting ready to eat.

Hazel ran to clean them up but slipped (Hazel was all antennas) and sent the beaker crashing to the floor.

Gunther screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” He closed his eyes and waited for the worst! But then . . . nothing happened.  Gunther looked around. There was Hazel straightening her antenna and through the window he could still see the sporks!

Gunther Randleroot couldn’t believe his eyes as green tears started pouring out of them for the second time that day.

Today is a Very Special Birthday!

Hello everybody and welcome!  Today we are celebrating a very special blogger’s birthday!  Can you guess who that blogger is?

“Hmm . . . in the blogosphere you say?  Can you give us a hint?”

“Ok, she’s cracked but not broken, and she has been known to run with scissors . . . naked”

Hmm. . . running with scissors . . . naked you say?

“Oooooooo!  I like her already!”

“Yeah she’s edgy and she’s cool!”

“Speaking of edgy . .  stop trying to edge me off the stool!”

“What do you mean, you’re taking up all the room!”

“Gosh, I wish I was edgy.”

“Who you?  Forget about it!”

“Hey!  Blogosphere People!  Chill!  I’ll give you another hint.  Dog balls feel funny . . . “

“Dog balls you say?”

“Dog balls!  Ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Oh!  I know!  I know!”

“Yes naked baby with your hand up!”

“Dog balls?”

“Hoo boy!  I think I need a mental moment!  Look I’m just going to tell you.  Today is the birthday of a most beloved blogger AND cyberdaughter . . . . . . Lizzie 4/7  

Ok, that’s your cue!  You can let go of those balloons now!”

“Well, I just let go of  something . . . but it wasn’t the balloons!”


Happy Birthday Lizzie!

The Trifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: How It All Ends for Spinkz Maccoy

A while back, the Trifecta Writing Challenge was to write the beginning sentence to an imaginary novel:

So here’s the beginning sentence to my imaginary novel:

The Life and Times of Spinkz Mccoy

Spinkz Mccoy

Used car salesman Spinkz Mccoy figured the key to his success was due to the fact that he was as honest as the day is long on the shortest day of the year.

And here’s this weekend’s challenge — writing the closing line:

“You could even change the name from Brooklyn to Betty Ann,” Spinkz Maccoy suggested as he pocketed $27,000 of Betty Ann Spindlemyer’s money while she gazed out the window at her new purchase.



The Betty Ann Bridge


Until next time . . . I love you

Friday Comics: Our Beloved Al

Our Beloved Al









Signs you’ve gotten too much sun this summer

You had to take out a loan to pay your sunscreen bill.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. That’s not $4,000 that’s $40,000! I always have trouble with those decimal points!”

You’ve had your sunglasses on so long  your ears have grown over them.

“No! I don’t want to take them off! I can’t say why. I just don’t!”

You have pet names for all the solar flares.

“Oh lookee! It’s Lil’ Mr. Snookie Ookums again!

No matter if you’re a mother or a father, you’re everybody’s mummy

“I love you mommy!”
“Shh . . . mommy’s trying to take a nap.”

You feel slightly cannibalistic when you order KFC extra crispy

Is this chicken too crispy or is it just me?

Your vitamin D dip stick is well past the ridiculous line.

“Oh yeah, it’s well past the ridiculous line, in fact it’s almost up to laughable.”

You’re smoldering . . . but not in a good way

“S is for Smoldering! I am making an “S” aren’t I?”

You were disappointed to find out nobody makes cherry red makeup.

“Sorry, ma’am we don’t have any cherry red foundation. We only have orange orange and lemon yellow.”

And the biggest sign that you’ve gotten too much sun this summer?

You’ve been delirious since the 4th of July

“I love you hearth burl! Goats on the skids! What say we go shave a  glumpy?”


Until next time . . . I love you


Convicts I have Known

Hello Dear Readers!  Today, I thought it might be fun to talk about convicts I have known. 

When I was 19, I was a waitress in the coffee shop of the Marcus Whitman Hotel in Walla Walla Washington.  For those of you unfamiliar with Walla Walla — besides hearing it referred to as the town they liked so well they named it twice, Walla Walla is also home to the Washington State Penitentiary.

The Walla Walla State Pen
(P.S. I got such a kick out of stealing this picture!)

In the early seventies, somebody (probably one of the “Screws”) said, “I know! Let’s take hardened criminals who have made a few tiny mistakes in their lives like perhaps pillaging, raping and murdering and let them out everyday to go to work as cooks at the Marcus Whitman Hotel!”

The Marcus Whitman Hotel — it’s not really this tall, the photographer must have been lying flat on his back when he took this picture.

And so that’s what they did and that’s how I got to know a few of our nations finest criminals.


George was a sweet little man, polite, personable and quiet. All the waitresses really liked George.  One day somebody got up the nerve to ask George why he was in prison.  Turns out retiring, polite, little George had murdered his wife with a butcher knife.  But not to worry there were extenuating circumstances.

It seems George had been a cook in the army for 20 years where he had developed a horrendous drinking problem.  One morning after a night of heavy drinking, he woke up to find he had stabbed his wife to death and he didn’t remember a thing.  He said he had no idea why he did it — because he didn’t remember having any problem with his wife.

Nine out of ten Washington State Convicts prefer butcher knives for all their murdering needs!”

Unfortunately, George eventually discovered that the Marcus Whitman Hotel Bar was 20o feet away from the kitchen.  One day George went into the bar and squirted the nozzle of whiskey directly into his mouth for a really, really long time.  We didn’t see George anymore after that. On a bright side, he didn’t use any of the kitchen knives to stab anybody.


Pineapple was a big tall guy with a crazy look in his eye who could barely string  two words together.  I don’t know why they called him Pineapple.  Maybe he was from Hawaii, or maybe it was because he had the IQ of a pineapple either way, one day he got a toothache while he was working in the kitchen, and so he decided the best course of action would be to extract his own tooth with a butcher knife.  We never saw Pineapple again after that.

Nine out of ten Washington State Convicts prefer butcher knives for all their tooth extraction needs!


Billy was a smooth talker who got “sent up” for possession of pot or so he liked to tell everyone.  And the pot wasn’t even his, he was just holding it for a friend.  Billy was like the smart prison guy in movies who was the mastermind behind the scenes and who got the likes of Pineapple to implement his schemes.

One day Billy talked one of the waitresses, Robin, into driving him to the airport after his shift.  The authorities were waiting for him when he got off the plane in the next town, and we never saw Billy again.

“No of course the prison won’t mind if you take me to the airport! Trust me Robin!”

Robin said the authorities came to talk to her but she didn’t get in any trouble for helping Billy escape.  Probably because they could see that in a game of Jeopardy between Pineapple and  Robin, Pineapple’s IQ would have won hands down.

Then there was the guy who got drunk, put on a Cher wig and wandered around the coffee shop incoherently until the police finally came and took him away.  Oh, but that wasn’t a convict, that was the hotel manager.  (But that’s another story for another day.)

The Manager of the Marcus Whitman Hotel

Until next time . . . I love you

33 WordTrifecta Weekend Writing Challenge: The Sad Circular Life of Spot

This weekend the Trifecta Writing Challenge involves Three Uses of the Knife by David Mamet as saying:

You take a knife, you use it to cut the bread, so you’ll have strength to work; you use it to shave, so you’ll look nice for your lover; on discovering her with another, you use it to cut out her lying heart.

He uses one object, a knife, to flesh out a character and to tell a story in a basic three-part dramatic structure. We want the same from you. Give us 33 words (exactly) that tell us three different uses for one object

The Sad Circular Life of Spot

See Spot run

Run run run

See the mailman

Mailman mailman mailman

See Spot bite

Bite bite bite

See the cop

Cop cop cop

See Spot run

Run run run

See the mailman . . .



Until next time  . . . I love you




The Al Gore Comics

Our Beloved Al

How to be an Effective Parent Using only the Word “Bingo”

Hello Dear Readers and welcome to Fish it From the Archives Friday, where we tie a rope around our waists and lower ourselves into a big vat of old posts, fish one out and post it here!  (We also like referring to ourselves in the third person, plural when we do this because sometimes Fridays makes us more weird than we already are.)

How To Be An Effective Parent Using Only The Word “Bingo”


“I want a new skateboard!”




“So can I have $80?”




“Do you want me to clean my room first or something?”




“OK, I cleaned my room. Can I have the money now?”




“OK,you want me to get your purse?”




“So where’s the money? Don’t you have $80?”




“Well, you should have said so in the first place because I wouldn’t have cleaned my room if I would have known you didn’t have any money.”




Until next time . . . I love you