Gregory’s Vacation Bible School: Jesus and the Pool at Bethesda

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 in would 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.”

Jesus curing my by Bathesda Pool
“Get up, pick up your bed and walk.”
“Uh . . . are you sure, that’s not going to wreck my back? I’ve been laying down for 38 years.”

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 wearing his 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 hightailed it 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.

Robert Bateman (1836 - 1889) (Artist,
“Hey wait a minute . . . did I grab the wrong egg beater again?”

And there you have it, Dear Readers, I hope you’ll come back next week for another installment of Gregory’s Bible Stories

Until next time . . . I love you

Gregory’s Vacation Bible School: Paul Sails for Rome

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 all out 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 blowing so that by the next day everybody starting throwing cargo and/or up overboard. Julius even had to dump his oranges.

Bible According to Gregory Apostle Paul
“No Paul!  Not my oranges!”
“Hey listen, I just threw an entire case of Cesearea Salad Dressing overboard, we all have to make sacrifices, Julius.”

But that didn’t help, so they 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 more biblical adventures.

Until next time . . . I love you

Ten Reasons Why You Might Be Feeling Fat

You have a tendency to eat breakfast four times.

The only equipment you keep in your home gym are a treadmill and a chocolate pie.

Your dog leads a scrap-less life.

a sad pug
“My owner sucks!”

You’ve traded in all your P’s and Q’s for M and M’s.

Trading post sign
“But I gave you ten P’s and Q’s and you only gave me seven M and M’s.”
“Listen, bub, nobody ever said life was fair.”

Your idea of the great outdoors is standing under the air conditioning vent at Mrs. Fields.

Your bathroom scales have filed assault and battery charges against you.

lady standing on bathroom scales
“If you don’t get off me right this second, lady, I’m calling the authorities!”

You only have 34 payments left on your last McDonald’s drive-thru.

McDonald's Mcdrive
“Are you ready to order?”
“No I’m just here to make a payment.”

Whenever you get tough and declare you’re going to lick something, it always turns out to be a Tootsie Roll Pop.

You brake for cake!

woman in an cheesy auto accident
“How’d it happen?”
“She was braking for cake.”

And the number one reason why you might be feeling fat:

You are fat.

 

Until next time . . . I love you

Don’t Thank Me, Thank My Noble Metabolism

 

Don’t Thank Me, Thank My Noble Metabolism

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.

Metabolism Heaven

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.

Not the real Metabolism Heaven, but a darn good likeness

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?

Until next time . . . I love you

The Lord’s Big Box of Disasters

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?

Moses:  Boils?

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?

Horus the egyptian god

Pigeons

Gregory’s Bible Stories: Abel’s First-born Lamb Feed

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories.  Let’s listen in and see what he learned about Adam and Eve’s two boys, Cain and Abel.

Gregory's Bible StoriesAbel’s All You Can Eat First-Born Lamb Feed

After the “incident” with Adam and Eve, the Lord gave each of them hoes as lovely parting gifts and sent them to cultivate the soil just outside the Garden of Eden which they unofficially named Little Eden.  (Luckily, Adam and Eve had eaten enough of the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge to know how to farm,  but were still several bites shy of an Agricultural Sciences degree.)

Eve soon gave birth to two boys.  The first one she named Cain because she had always liked that name.  The second one she named Abel because she wasn’t able to think of any other name she liked.

Cain became a farmer and grew lots of boring broccoli, while Abel became a shepherd and herded lots of  mouth-watering sheep.

One day, Cain gathered up a big bowl of broccoli  and offered it to the Lord while Abel killed a first-born lamb, sautéed the best parts in clarified butter, and offered it to the Lord along with a glass of His favorite chardonnay.

The Lord breezed by Cain’s alter and sat down at Abel’s table.   Just as Abel was tying the Lord’s First-Born Lamb Feed bib onCain came over with his bowl of broccoli.

Cain:  Hi Lord.  I grew this bowl of broccoli for you.    I think it will make a nice accompaniment to Abel’s Seared Petite First-Born Lamb Chops with Rosemary Balsamic Reduction, don’t you?

The Lord:  Take it away. I am rejecting it.

Cain:  Ah come on.  Don’t be that way.  Couldn’t you take one teeny-weeny bite?

The Lord:  No, I reject you and your broccoli, Cain. But I will have me some more of your brother’s delightful mouthwatering first-born lamb!  Hey . . .what’s the matter, Cain, you look angry.  Why are you scowling?

Cain:  I’m just feeling a little killingish that’s all.

Abel:  You’re stupid Cain!

Cain:  Hey, Abel.  Can I see you out in the field for a minute?

Abel:  I guess.  You want to come too, Lord?

The Lord:  No you guys go ahead.  I’m just going to polish off  the rest of these First-Born Lamb Sliders.

When they were in the field, Cain took the stalk of broccoli he’d won first place for at the Little Eden County Fair, removed the pin from it and stabbed Abel repeatedly with the pointy end — killing him, if not instantly, eventually.

Cain killing abel

When Cain came back, the Lord was just finishing the last of the first-born lamb Jello and was once again congratulating Himself on having had the wherewithal to have always made room for it when he was creating everything.

The Lord:  This Jello set up perfectly, Abel!

Cain:  I’m not Abel, I’m Cain.

The Lord:  Where’s Abel?

Cain:  I do not know.   Am I my brother’s keeper?

The Lord:  That’s rhetorical, isn’t it?   Wait a minute . . . Listen:  I hear your brother’s blood crying out from the soil.

Cain:  Are you sure?  Maybe that’s just your stomach growling again.

The Lord:  No, by Golly, that was blood crying out from the soil, alright.  There’s a fine line, but I know the difference.

Cain:  Gulp.

The Lord:  Okay, Buster, no more tilling the soil for you.  From now on, consider yourself a restless wanderer.

Cain:  You mean the kind of restless wanderer that anyone may kill on sight?

The Lord:  Not so!  If anyone kills Cain, Cain shall be avenged seven-fold!

Cain:  Why are you suddenly talking in third person?

The Lord:  I get so bored with omniscient.

Cain:  But why will they be avenged seven-fold?

The Lord:  Seven is my lucky fold.

Cain:  I knew that.

The Lord:  No you didn’t.

Cain:  More first-born lamb shank, Lord?

The Lord:  Thank you.  Don’t mind if I do.

And there you have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday School, please check back next Sunday to see what will happen next to Adam and Eve and the gang.

Until next time . . . I love you

First Born Lamb Feed

Big Bucks Barbie

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.

Picture of My Size Barbie in a Blue Dress   Daryl Hanna on Red Carpet

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.

Barbie's first dream house
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.

Until next time . . . I love you

Ten Ways to Tell if You’re Overdoing Thanksgiving

Hello Dear Readers!  I love Thanksgiving!  It’s one of my favorite holidays.  Every year I cook for my family and every year I look forward to it with great pleasure.  Maybe a little too much pleasure.  That’s why I’ve come up with this list of warning signs on how to tell if you are going to overdo Thanksgiving.

How to Tell if You’re Going to Overdo Thanksgiving
Woman looking pensive with leaves on her head

You’ve replaced the phrase “I love you” with the phrase “Olive you”.

You just got back from Potato Mashing Immersion Camp.

You’ve instructed your surgeon to break ground on that new stomach addition.

Architect looking at plans
“So the way I see it, we can knock out a wall between the belly and the button, and we should have room for an entire bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy.

In preparation for the big feast, you’ve managed to diet down to a size bite.

Even if you were to carry out pi to a million decimals, all forms of pi will be polished off by Friday.

“Of course I didn’t eat all the pumpkin pie! I ‘m an apple guy.”

You’ve taken to sleeping on a pillow of mini marshmallows.

Thanks to you and your voluminous Yam Stockpile the earth will be taking 6 days longer to orbit the sun.

Earth orbiting sun
“Gosh this week is really dragging by. What day is it?”
“Yamsday.”
“Still?”

You made an appointment with your dentist to get your teeth sharpened.

Your new gravy boat sleeps six.

“Move over!”
“No you!”

Your husband, Tom, is slightly worried about you because his name is Bill.

You’ve been preheating your oven since the 4th of July.

You refuse to read, watch or listen to  anything that isn’t about Jello.

“Honey! Come quick! Look!  There’s Bigfoot!”
“Is he in the form of a Jello mold?”
“No.”
“Is he carrying Jello?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not going to look.”

And the most obvious way to tell if you’re going to overdo Thanksgiving:

Your appendix has been officially called back into active duty for the stomach reserves.

“Ten Hut!”

 

Until next time . . . Olive you

Whatnot Wednesday: Boy-Like-Being Gets Girl-Like-Being

Welcome Dear Readers to Biff Sock Pow’s Whatnot Wednesday writing challenge post.  Today I’ve taken the liberty of posting a Science Fiction story about love and whatnot on different planets and whatnot in keeping with Whatnot Wednesday and whatnot.

Whatnot Wednesday:  Boy-Like-Being Gets Girl-Like-Being

Zing bellied up to the bar at the Intergalactic Space Station and ordered a human-being’s drink called a Zombie. If he understood it correctly, the rational for naming an alcoholic beverage a Zombie was that if one drank enough Zombies one took on the characteristics of a reanimated dead body.

Zing sipped his drink and thought about how weird humans were while scoping out the bar.

“You can put those antennae away, the Space Gals haven’t arrived yet,”   The bartender slid a fresh Zombie Zing’s way.  The bartender was a tall drink of water named, Mu, a feline sapien from planet Mumeria.  A fine pair of yellow eyes and a well-developed gift for witty banter made the Space Gals mad for him.

“How do you do it, Mu?”  Zing asked.  “How do you manage to juggle so many Space Gal friends?  Don’t you ever want to settle down?”

“You mean settle down with a Space Gal like Sally? “  Mu stifled a purr thinking about Sally.

“Sally does love cats.”

Mu’s back arched ever so slightly.  “I’m not a cat!”

“I didn’t say you were. I just said Sally loves cats.  Two totally unrelated statements.”

Mu reached out and gave Zing a whack. “Where I’m from we eat things like you.”

“Hello fellas.” Sally took off her coat and sat down.  “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, we were just talking about where I was going to take you tonight after work, Sally.” Mu said quickly. “We’re drinking Zombies.  Here, I made one for you.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Mu!”  Sally giggled.

Zing took a catnip ball and rolled it down the bar.  He could see Mu’s yellow eyes pick up the motion. “I’ll be right back,” Mu announced.

“How about a movie tonight, Sally?” Zing asked.

Sally looked down the bar.  “What’s wrong with Mu? “He’s acting weird.”

“I don’t know. Maybe too many Zombies.” Zing tenderly reached for Sally’s claw, and they sipped their Zombies and gazed into each other’s antennae.

"Love is a many splendored thing . . . emphasis on "many".

“I love you .  Most ardently.  Please do me the honor of accepting my hand my claw my whatnot in marriage.”

 

 

How To Play Whatnot Wednesday

  1. Write a blog post entitled “Whatnot Wednesday” (it can be about anything)
  2. Add these guidelines to the bottom of your post
  3. Add a link to this post in your post
  4. Add the tag #WhatnotWednesday to your post
  5. Post your post
  6. In the comments below in my post, leave a link to your Whatnot Wednesday blog post
  7. See how many bullet points you an end with the word “post”
  8. Most of all …. HAVE FUN!  (post)

 

R.I.P. Taffy May

When I was a little girl, the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow was a horse.

I really only voiced the question of my getting a horse to my parents a couple of times, knowing full well that the answer would be no, and, as a matter of pride,  I’d ultimately have to run away from home or, at the very least, stage a run away as in the following true scenario:

“Look at this Janey,” my father remarked to my mother, “I found Linda’s pajamas in this little 45-record case in the bushes just outside her window when I was mowing the lawn.”

Oh I was going to run away alright . . . eventually.

Ok, fine . . . if I wasn’t going to get a horse, at least I could try for a kitten.  This is how I went about it.  Step 1:  Convince my parents that I was head over heals in love with cats.  So I colored umpteen pictures of kittens and scotch taped them to my circa 1959 pink wall.  Step 2 wasn’t even needed because Step 1 worked like a charm.  Next thing I knew I was picking out my very own gray, long-haired kitten from a batch of 5 or 6.

In my excitement, I failed to notice that this particular kitten had issues.  It suffered from the world’s lowest kitty IQ.   Maybe that’s why the name I chose, Taffy May, seemed to fit her so well.

Taffy May was the perfect cat for a little girl to bond with.  Being nearly brain-dead, she allowed me to pick her up and carry her around without protest.  She slept with me all night under the covers which I thought was because she loved me so —  but more likely she just couldn’t figure a way out.

I loved stupid little Taffy May with all the passion of my nine-year-old heart and soul.  She failed to grow to full size due to the fact that while she was checking to see if there were any predators around to eat her cat food, the dog would wolf  it down.

She had one batch of kittens – if three can be considered a batch.  But being the little dummy that she was, she managed to lie on all three of them during the night and  in the morning the only one left breathing was my beloved, Taffy May.

Perhaps it was Karma (I know there was a car involved) the day Taffy May shuffled (or rolled) off this mortal world.  I was on my way home from school without a care in the world.  When I rounded the corner, there stood our across-the-street neighbor, Mr. Huey, holding a lifeless Taffy May up by the tail.

I don’t know how many times Taffy May had been run over, but judging from the fact that she was literally as flat as a pancake, it would be safe to assume more than once.  I screamed and ran into the house where I was inconsolable well into the night.  I never got another cat of my very own, out of respect for Taffy May, who will always have a place in my heart . . . about two feet wide and one and one-half inches deep.

Until next time . . . I love you

British Empire Atrocities or Happy Fourth of July!

Hello Dear Readers.  It seems the cold, cruel calendar will be ushering in the  Fourth of July tomorrow and before I’ll even have time to get out of bed!  The calendar is such a tyrant.

Which  brings us to another kind of tyranny (albeit in an ineptly worded segue). One that we Americans had foisted upon us on the Fourth of July  200- odd years ago by the British Empire — resulting in the Declaration of Independence!

I’d look up exactly how many years ago it was,  but I think google’s closed today. . . okay, okay I’ll try . . .

Hmm. . . As it turns out google is open but judging from the answers it’s given me, everybody went home early to light firecrackers.  They must have the temps working because I asked google the following question:

Hi Google, Happy 4th! Which reminds me, what were the atrocities the British Empire inflicted on the American Colonists that resulted in the Declaration of Independence?

And here’s the answers it gave me (as far as you know anyway).

1.  The British Empire kept messing with the price of crumpets causing the colonists all kinds of unpleasant menu-planning issues.

Linda Vernon Humor Thanksgiving Pic on the Fourth of July
“You no likee potatoes?”
“No we likee them, they’re a wonderful tuber. It’s just that we are going to have to hold off on the potato trading until we can ascertain what the crumpet situation going to be. Sorry.”

2.  The Colonists did not want to be bullied into memorizing a list of all of England’s past kings and queens in American public schools.

3.  If the Colonists hadn’t declared their independence, they would have had to wake up from their siestas early (see Spanish-American War) for tea time (see Atrocities of the British Empire)

4.  The Colonists had a premonition they weren’t going to appreciate the humor of Monty Python.

5.  The Colonists picked up on the fact that the British Empire thought they wore lame clothes and were borderline dirty.

6.  The British Empire imposed a tax on Nursery Rhymes which infuriated the colonists due to the fact that none of them even rhymed very well.

7.  American Colonists were vehemently opposed to using the word “row” instead of the word “fight” like the British Empire kept nagging them to do.

Fourth of July Essay Linda Vernon Humor
“Who never did him any harm but killed the mice in father’s barn?  I hate to break it to you, Redcoat, but harm and barn do not rhyme!”
“Oh yeah, you want to row about it?”
“You mean do I want to fight about it.”
“Uh . . it’s called row, not fight.”
“Oh yeah? Well I hate you.”
“Well I hate you too.”
‘Let’s row about it.”
“You mean fight about it?”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up!”

 

Well, Dear Readers, that about does it for the Fourth of July post.  I don’t know about you, but I’m already 4th-ed out!

Until next time . . . I love you

Meeting Jesus’s Dad

Welcome, Dear Readers, to this Sunday’s edition of The Bible According to Gregory.

Today in Sunday School, Gregory learned about the day Jesus brought his three favorite disciples to meet his Dad.

GregoryMeeting Jesus’s Dad

One day Jesus decided to take his three best friends, Peter, James and John up on a high mountain alone.   The bible doesn’t say how the other nine disciples felt about their not being invited and biblical scholars can only speculate that Peter, James and John came home to find their robes all tied together.

Anyway, once they all got up to the top of the mountain, the disciples watched while Jesus prayed.  The more Jesus prayed, the sleepier the disciples got.  Before you know it, the disciples were out like unattended oil lamps!

When the disciples opened their eyes,  Jesus had changed into his heavenly civvies which the disciples described as being as bright as the sun.

But that’s not all!  The disciples saw that there were now two men with Jesus.  One was Moses and the other one was Elijah.  Apparently the disciples knew who these two men were.  (Most biblical scholars agree they were wearing name tags.)

Peter piped up immediately and said he would like to build them all some tents.  One for Jesus, one for Moses, one for Elijah and one for the little boy who lived down the lane (Peter was a kidder).

Anyway just as Peter was going on and on about tents, he was interrupted by what looked like a shiny cloud, but was actually Jesus’s Dad, God.  God said:

“This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased; hear him.” 

When the disciples heard God’s voice the disciples all screamed and threw themselves face down on the ground.

After awhile, Jesus came and touched them and told them not to be afraid and when the disciples looked up the two men were gone and there was no sign of the shiny cloud.

As they came down the mountain Jesus asked the disciples not to tell anybody what they saw until the Son of Man had been raised from death.  The disciples pretended to know what Jesus was talking about even though they had no idea what Jesus was talking about.  (When asked about this later, the disciples insisted they did  keep the story a secret and had absolutely no idea how it had gotten in the bible!)

When they got back home sure enough Peter, John and James had their robes all tied together.

But Jesus’s stuff was just as he had left it.

“Fellas I’d like you to meet Noah and Elijah.”
“No I’m Noah!”
“Oh sorry, you guys look just alike!”

And there you have it, Dear Readers. What Gregory learned in Sunday school. Please check back next week to find out what Gregory learns next.

 

Until next time . . . I love you

The Bible According to Gregory: Jeff and the Ammonia-ites

Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of The Bible According to Gregory. Let’s listen in and see what Gregory learned in Sunday School this morning shall we?

LInda Vernon humoous bible storiesJeff and the Ammonia-ites

One day in the biblical land of unpronounceable names, there lived a man named Jephthah but let’s just call him Jeff.  Jeff had been shunned by his entire family and had to live in the land of Tob, a land which was considered inferior because it was so easy to pronounce.

But Jeff had a gift for slicing and dicing his fellow-man (or enemies as they were called in those days just as they are today) so naturally when the Israelites were having some problems with the strong-smelling Ammonites (pronounced Ammonia-ites) they followed the trail of blood to Jeff’s house and asked him to be the captain of their armies to kill the Ammonia-ites because the odor wafting from them was giving them all tension headaches. (This is way before migraines were invented.)

Jeff  Makes a Really Dumb Vow

So Jeff  said sure but only under one condition. He would make a vow to the Lord that when he successfully returned from slaughtering the Ammonia-ites, the first person to come out of Jeff’s house to welcome him home would be burned alive as a sacrifice to the Lord.

Then Jeff went into battle with the Ammonia-ites and the Lord made sure Jeff won because the smell was giving Him tension headaches too.

Let the Smoting begin!

After smoting everybody and their goat — up one side and down the other, Jeff was totally smoted out and returned to his house in Mizpah Estates a new housing development in Tob.

Well, the door flies open and out runs his darling little daughter joyfully playing her little timbre which was an instrument exactly like a modern-day tambourine only spelled more stupidly.

Oh Drat the Lucketh!

Jeff was totally broken-hearted when he saw his daughter run out of the house first.  He was so hoping it would have been his mother-in-law. Jeff's daughter problem

Jeff has a heart to heart with his beloved daughter, Whatshername

But because Jeff was a man of valor, he sat down with his daughter and pulled out his standard-issued  “So Your Father Is Going To Sacrifice You To The Lord” scroll, and they had a nice long, father-daughter chat about her upcoming demise.

Jeff began by telling his daughter the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears only in Jeff’s version  — instead of Goldilocks running away and never being seen or heard of  again, Goldilocks’ Dad burns her alive as a sacrifice to the Lord.

Okay, Daddy, sure, when you put it like that . . . 

After that, Jeff’s daughter was totally on-board with the sacrifice thingy. She asked her father if it would be okay if she went on a two-month slumber party first with her girlfriends in the mountains so they could eat smores and weep over her lost youth and lift each other up with just one of their fingers and mourn for the children who would never be hers and roast marshmallows and grieve that she must die a virgin and take turns telling ghost stories.

Phew!

Jeff agreed immediately.   He was  hugely relieved that his daughter was taking the sacrifice thingy so well and promised to buy her some really cute pajama robes to take with her!

The Actual Sacrifice Thingy

Two months later,  Jeff burned alive his only daughter, little whatshername, as an offering to the Lord.

The bible doesn’t mention whether or not the Lord expressed any appreciation, but then again, the sacrifice of Jeff’s daughter wasn’t even the Lord’s idea in the first place.  Turns out, it was just one of those big biblical misunderstandings that were always happening back then.

Until next time . . . I love you

Jeff's Sacrificing Party

The Vegetable Lady Answers Some Questions

Dear Readers!  What a treat we have in store for us today!  The Vegetable Lady has been kind enough to stop by the blog and answer some of our most pressing vegetable questions!

A picture of a lady with a big toothy Grin Linda Vernon Humor
The Vegetable Lady will answer some questions

Our first question, Vegetable Lady, comes to us from  Reader, Phillip Flep, who asks: what is your favorite way to prepare tomatoes?

Tomatoes?  Golly Jeepers whenever I think of tomatoes, I always think of Christmas because that’s when Daddy, before he got lost at sea, would bring in a big platter of tomatoes, graham crackers and chocolate and  Mommy would set the Christmas tree on fire, and we’d make Smores!

Before Daddy bit into his, he would always say  “If I never see you again I love you,” but Golly Jeepers!  Mother and I could never figure out if he was talking to us or to the Smores.

This next question comes to us from Reader, Agamemnon Applebee, who asks: What’s the best way to get peas out of their pods?

Golly Jeepers it took Mother and I so long to figure that out!  Right after Daddy got lost at sea, we were awfully impoverished, so we had to live off peas until Mother and I  joined the circus.

Golly Jeepers!  It wasn’t easy to figure out how to get peas out of their pods until one day Mother borrowed a microscope and found out there was a teeny-tiny zipper in each pod!  Golly Jeepers!  I finally had time to get back to my sword swallowing practice after we found that out!

Our last question comes from Reader, Toots Tubaleeno, who asks:  What’s the best way to roast corn on the cob?

Well, after Mother and I joined the circus, Mother started roasting all our corn on the cob by positioning the cob between her teeth while  performing her flame juggling routine!  Golly Jeepers that was some good corn!

One night Mother set her beard on fire, which totally ruined her moonlighting job as the bearded lady in the freak show.  But Golly Jeepers! Mother sure went out on a lot more dates after that.

So let’s get this straight, Vegetable Lady, you’re telling us that your father was lost at sea, you set your Christmas Tree on fire every year to roast tomato smores, your mother is a bearded flame juggler and you swallow swords in your spare time?

Golly Jeepers!  When you put it that way it does sound a little strange.  I forgot to explain that I never swallow swords that don’t have a carrot stuck to the end!   Oh I’m so glad I remembered to add that!  Golly Jeepers! You would have thought I was pretty weird!

Well thank you for answering some questions for us today Vegetable Lady!

drawing by Linda Vernon Humor of the vegetable lady

Golly Jeepers!  You’re welcome!

* * *

Until next time, I love you

Some Common Sense Tips

Hello Dear Readers.  I thought it might be helpful to post a short list  of common sense tips that my brain, Peanuts, just thought of.

Don’t worry about your spleen.  Nobody ever said on their death-bed, “I wish I would have worried about my spleen.”

 "Let's see, 101 signs your spleen might be malfunctioning . . ."
“Let’s see . . . 101 signs your spleen might be malfunctioning . . . oh I need to read these! “

If someone in your family is set on becoming a human cannonball, keep a mirror and a helmet handy so you can show them how stupid they will look to others.

Slit your car tires every night before you go to bed so that when you wake up in the morning there won’t be any flat tire surprises.

Did you remember to slit the tires?No, it's your turn, I did it last night!
Did you remember to slit the tires?
No, it’s your turn, I did it last night!

Never allow anyone to act out the poem Lizzie Borden Took an Ax on family fun night unless you are absolutely certain the ax is inaccessible and there’s no liquor in the house.

Always test out your  “experimental arsenic cookies” on the hamster first, and be sure he’s actually dead before going to all the trouble of serving them to in-laws.

"Maury? . . . Maury? Can you hear me Maury?"

“Maury? . . . Maury? Can you hear me Maury?”

Always keep a copy of Robert Rules of Order on you at all times to avoid the embarrassment of walking up to take the witness stand in a crowded courtroom when it’s not your turn.

Never engage in a conversation with a chatty robot before you know the location of their off switch.  (The same holds true for husbands.)

"Yes. it. is. a. nice. day. There. have been 17823 days. very. similar. to. a. day. like. today. in. the. past. 100. years. starting. with. a. Thursday. on. April. 17. 1912. and. then. again. on . . . "
“Yes. it. is. a. nice. day. There. have. been. 17823. days. very. similar. to. a. day. like. today. in. the. past. 1400. years. starting. with. a. Thursday. on. April. 17. 1035. and. then. on. . . “

Just make it a policy to never operate on friends. Period. End of story.

Listen Marge, it's not that I don't want to take out your spleen, it's just that you're a friend of mine and I have this policy . . . sorry . . . .
Listen Marge, it’s not that I don’t want to remove your spleen, it’s just that you’re a friend of mine and I have this policy . . . sorry but period end of story.

Until next time . . . I love you