Welcome Dear Readers! I am so excited! As you may know, from time to time this blog takes it upon itself to attempt to cheer up American Literature’s most Gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe. And in that light, I feel this blog is making a little progress. Check out Edgar Allan Poe’s new magazine!
WE can only hope, Dear Readers, that this his new positive attitude has staying power!
Our story opens when George Washington’s father comes outside and finds that the cherry tree has been chopped down:
What the? George Washington come here right NOW!
Yes father?
Something tells me you cut down this cherry tree with the hatchet I got you for your birthday today! I knew you were too young for a hatchet! I knew I should have gone with your mother’s suggestion and gotten you a guillotine instead.
Father, please . . . I’m six! All the other children in the township got hatchets when they turned three! I mean, it’s downright embarrassing how long I had to wait to finally get a hatchet of my very own! And, besides, everybody knows guillotines are for babies.
Well look what happens. I finally get you a hatchet, and you haven’t even had it more than an hour and what’s the first thing you do? Cut down my prized cherry tree!
Well, I cannot tell a lie, Father. It’s not exactly the first thing I cut down.
What?!?
Well now that you’ve brought it up, and since I cannot tell a lie, this might be as good a time as any to mention that first I cut down the apple tree, then I cut down the apricot tree and, lastly, I cut down the cherry tree — in addition to hacking up a couple of rose bushes.
That does it George, march yourself to the woodshed, I’m giving you a sound whipping’!
Father, as you know, I cannot tell a lie, so this might be as good a time as any to also mention that the woodshed isn’t as much of a woodshed as it used to be . . .
On no! Not another “I cannot tell a lie!”
In fact, it would be more accurate, Dear Father, if we were to start thinking of the woodshed in terms of a rather large pile of kindling rather than an actual building in and of itself.
Nothing like the thrill of killing and eating fruit!
Oh for crying out loud! Well, I hope you at least saved the fruit so that your mother can bake us some pies . . . George? You did save the fruit from the trees didn’t you?
Oh that . . . well . . . I can cannot tell a lie, Father, for I surely would if it would spare you the heartache of telling you that I but finished off the last of fruit only seconds ago.
Ha ha! Well, you might be the naughtiest boy in the world but at least you’re honest George, my boy! I have a feeling you are going to grow up to be the very first President of the United States of America! Now off with you! Oh . . . and for godsakes don’t forget to brush your teeth again!
Happy Birthday George Washington! Wherever you are!
I’m not usually a lucky person. The slot machines I play are sure to be clinkety-clank-less, the numbers on my raffle tickets go unannounced, and, truth be told, I’ve never even had an opportunity to shout the word “Bingo” . . . unless, of course, it was his name-o.
So when I got kissed by Bill Murray at the AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-am Golf Tournament, they had to call the fire department to get me down from Cloud 9.
“No, you idiot, that’s Cloud 8!”
The whole thing would have never happened had I not stepped on the toes of a good-natured, somewhat tipsy Englishman while trying to get a glimpse of Clint Eastwood at the fifth hole at Spyglass -; breaking the ice between the Englishman and I, while simultaneously breaking most of his toes.
Not the exact Englishman but gawdawful like him.
Clint proceeded to hit a ball that landed squarely on the green. Now, for secretive, humorous reasons known only to the British, this sent my new Broken Toed Buddy into a fit of laughter and ear-splitting wise-crack-ery; the likes of which can only be achieved after enjoying a hearty three-martini breakfast.
Take a Mulligan, Clint!” The English One advised and began to chant. “Mulli! Mulli! Mulli!” Finally, Clint turned to him and assuming his famous Dirty Harry persona (at least that’s what I assumed he was assuming) replied, “Yeah, OK,” a comment to which the gallery responded with an explosion of laughter so uproarious, I was left to conclude that everybody there was British.
Then . . . suddenly . . . like a Cinderella story out of nowhere – weaving his way through the throngs to the tee—appeared The Great and Powerfully Funny, Bill Murray, Himself.
The Great and Powerfully Funny Bill Murray, Himself!
“Look! It’s Bill Murray!” I observed with all the subtlety of Lucy Ricardo spotting William Holden at the Brown Derby. My English Buddy didn’t miss a beat. “Hey Bill!” He screamed over the crowd. “This lady would like a kiss!”
Bill Murray responded by slowly turning around like he was Moe Howard hearing the dreaded phrase “Niagara Falls!” As he headed my way, the crowd was giddy with anticipation. I know it’s weird and maybe I’ve been watching too much I Love Lucy but what was running through my head at that exact moment was, “Wait until Ethel hears about this!”
Then, Bill Murray positioned himself in front of me and politely waited for the crowd to get their cameras ready and when the time was right . . .
BINGO!
. . . suddenly the AT&T golf tournament faded away, and it was just me and my lips and Bill Murray kissing me . . . with his lips. I don’t know how long we kissed. It could have been an instant or it could have been an hour or possibly four or five hours (but I doubt it) that I was suspended in the bliss of Bill Murray’s kiss.
On the drive home, I suddenly realized it was February 2nd which meant – that’s right – I got kissed by Bill Murray on Groundhog day. And in the immortal the words of Carl the Greens keeper — after he was granted total consciousness on his deathbed by the Dali Lama –I thought:
“So I got that going for me . . . which is nice.”
Until next time . . . I love you (and that goes double for Bill Murray)
Hello Dear Readers! Today, let us peer into the levers and pulleys that comprise the thinking apparatuses of our beloved scientists and researchers! Come join me, won’t you?
Let’s see . . . eenie meenie miney etc etc.
Seti Focuses Efforts on Listening to Known Exo-Planets
Seti, a group of researchers who live more by the story Horton Hears a Who than any other branch of the scientific community, have recently decided to point their telescopes at 86 stars that are known to have planets.
Up until now, the researchers at Seti, all with PhD’s in Listening Closely, were taking turns playing “spin the telescope” to decide which direction they should listen in. Unfortunately, aside from one shotgun wedding, this method yielded no results.
“The big challenge with these kinds of observations is to rule out the false positives generated on Earth,” Jill Tarter, Seti VIP was quoted as saying after getting her hopes up last winter over what she thought was an intelligent signal from out there, but was later turned out to be a Portuguese broadcast of I Dream of Jeannie.
Casino or bust!
Keeping Dead Languages Alive Is Easy, It’s Finding People to Talk to That’s the Rub.
Researchers, whose jobs it is to sit around and pin dates on things that will happen in the future, have recently decided that by the year 2100, the mankind will have lost half the languages that are now spoken.
Luckily, in California, Eureka High School has launched a program to keep alive the Native-American language, Yurok, which was down to only six native speakers in 1990, and today, thanks to the schools efforts, there are now over 300 high school kids who speak Yurok.
“Now it’s just a matter of locating the only six people on earth who can understand them,” the Eureka High School principal was quoted as saying after loading up the rooter bus with 300 fluent Yurok speakers and heading off to the casino.
One . . . two . . . wait wait wait . . . one . . . two . . . wait wait wait . . .one two . . . wait wait wait
Felix Baumgartner Fell Faster Than Originally Thought
With a name like Felix Baumgartner, Felix Baumgartner felt compelled to do something spectacular on behalf of all the other Felix Baumgartners of the world which is why last October, he ascended to a height of more than 120,000 feet in a special helium balloon before stepping off and plummeting back down to earth.
Since then, Mathematicians have been burning up their Texas Instrument calculators in an effort to figure out exactly how fast Felix Baumgartner was actually falling.
As a result, the original figure of 843.6 miles an hour has been upgraded to ten miles an hour faster — causing the clouds through which Felix Baumgartner was falling to be remembered even blurrier in his mind’s eye than he was previously remembering them to be.
Researchers say the lessons learned from the jump will inform the development of new ideas for emergency evacuation from things like spacecraft, experimental aircraft and hot air balloons traveling somewhere over the rainbow.
And there you have it, Dear Readers, today’s foray into the minds of our scientific community!
Hello friends and welcome to the post that is going to change your life!
Have you ever wanted to be a bestselling novel writer but thought it was too complicated or would take too long?
Well think no more! Renowned Bestselling Novel Writer Wannabe Linda Vernon will have you mastering the art of writing a bestselling novel before the end of this post. After all, they don’t call her Renowned Bestselling Novel etc. etc. for nothing!
So let’s begin, shall we?
Step One: Obtain a Vocabulary
To become a bestselling novel writer, the first thing you are going to need isare is some words. Here are (or is) some common places where words can be obtained:
1) Coming out of people’s mouths
2) Written on books, pamphlets, and brochures.
3) Scrawled on park benches
4) Cash register receipts
5) Government documents
6) Under rocks
7) Carved into trees
8) Hidden in tattoos
9) Crop Circles
10) Menus
Now that you are an EXPERT on how to find words, the next thing you will need is a bucket in which to place the words you just obtained like I did:
Vocabulary I have managed to obtain.
Step Two: Find a Lucky Charm
Bestselling authors have always known that to be successful, they must beg, borrow, or scrape off the bottom of someone’s shoe a lucky charm.
Renowned Bestselling Author Wannabe Linda Vernon suggests you purchase an authentic Evel Knievel Lucky Charm Coin that renowned stuntman, Evel Knievel, kept in his pocket each time he performed a motorcycle stunt.
Yeah, he did break every bone in his body every single stunt, but think what would have happened if he HADN’T been carrying his lucky charm!
Artist’s Rendering of the Evel Knievel Coin
Evel Knievel Coins are free* *(But allow $32,000 for Shipping and Handling –seems like a lot but they are handled non-stop for a couple of months!)
Step Three: Dump and Title
Now that you have successfully obtained your words and ordered your lucky charm, it is now time to dump you Lil’ Bucket o’ Words onto the pages of your novel. (Depending upon how quickly your computer copy and paste function works, this should take no more than one to two seconds.)
Now for the fun part! Coming up with a title for your bestselling novel!
To save you time, Renowned Bestselling Novel Writer Wannabe Linda Vernon has taken the liberty of designing a One-Title-Fits-All-Genres book cover design she guarantees they won’t be able to pull off the bookshelf fast enough!
The Wind Has No Last Name? by Your name here!
And there you have it, dear reader/bestselling novel writer! You are now a bona-fide Bestselling Novelist. If you don’t feel any different, don’t worry, it might take a couple of hours before this post takes effect.
Welcome Dear Readers! Today I thought it would be fun to share with you a synopsis of the book I’m thinking about writing called Linda’s Guide to Making Things Work.
Chapter One:
Make whatever isn’t working work
Chapter Two
Make whatever is working keep working
Chapter Three
If anything quits working see chapter one
Chapter Four
When something isn’t working try something else and see if that works
Chapter Five
If trying something else didn’t work, try to remember how you made anything work in the first place and do that again
Chapter Six
Take a Jack Daniel’s break
Chapter Seven
If you still can’t remember how you made anything work in the first place redefine the term “what is working”
Chapter Eight
Now everything should be working
Chapter Nine
See you were being far too hard on yourself
Chapter Ten
Now get out there and make it work!
And there you have it, Dear Readers, a synopsis of Linda’s Guide to Making Things Work, now get out there and make it work!
Welcome Dear Readers to this Sunday’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today in Sunday School, Gregory learned Ezekiel’s unusual experience with the Lord, part II.
Ezekiel’s Flip Side
If you will remember last week, our biblical hero, Ezekiel, was well on his way to becoming the Lord’s first 500-pound prophet after feasting on a chocolate-covered scroll that contained 1,437,118,227,922,091,561,403 grams of sugar and that caused his papyrus allergy to kick in like gangbusters. But God wasn’t done with Ezekiel yet, not by a long shot.
Somewhere in an undisclosed holy land location:
God: Mortal Man, get a brick and set it in front of you and scratch lines on it to represent the cit of Jerusalem.
Ezekiel: Okay but first would it be possible to get something for these hives, God? I can’t stop scratching.
God: How’d you get hives?
Ezekiel: From eating that papyrus scroll, remember? I told you I was allergic to papyrus.
God: But that scroll wasn’t made from papyrus, it was made from animal hide.
Ezekiel: Uh oh. Chipmunk by any chance?
God: As a matter of fact yes it was. How did you know that?
Ezekiel: My chipmunk allergy is even worse than my papyrus allergy.
God: Is that why your eyes are swollen shut?
Ezekiel: Yeah.
God: Oh okay, I was wondering but I didn’t want to say anything. You know, maybe I better come back another time and have you do the rest of the stuff on my list.
Ezekiel: No! Absolutely not. I can do it! I can still see a little bit.
God: Are you sure?
Ezekiel: Of course, what are prophets for if not to carry out Your quirky plans, God!
God: Well then after you scratch Jerusalem on a brick, I want you to represent a siege of the city by putting trenches, earthworks, camps and battering rams around it.
Ezekiel: Wait a minute, you want me to dig trenches and earthworks, and put battering rams around it? I mean, can one guy even lift a battering ram? They’ve got to weigh a ton.
God: Just like you ha ha!
Ezekiel: Excuse me?
God: No I was just saying the exercise will do you good. You could use to drop a few pounds or 250.
Ezekiel: Okay my robe’s too tight I get it. Is that it?
God: No. After that I want you to take an iron pan and set it up like a wall between you and the city.
Ezekiel: I don’t have an iron pan.
God: You don’t have an iron pan? Get out? We’re living in modern biblical times! Nowadays, everybody and their goat has an iron pan! How do you make all those grilled Chebar cheese sandwiches you’ve been stuffing in your face nonstop with your exile homeys down at the Chebar River without an iron pan?
Ezekiel: Well, if you must know, I usually get one of my slaves to cook or if they’re on vacation, I get one of my wives to cook or if they are all dying in childbirth, I get one of my concubines to go for take out.
God: Well, the next thing I want you to do is lie down.
Ezekiel: Sweet! Now You’re talkin’!
God: Yeah I knew you’d like that part but it involves a little more than just lying down.
Ezekiel: Like what?
God: I want you to lie on your side and I’m going to place on you the weight of the guilt of Israel.
Ezekiel: Uh . . . that sounds pretty heavy. How much weight are we talking?
God:A lot but probably less than what you weigh ha ha! Anyways, I’m going to want you to do that for 390 days and then after that roll over on your other side for 40 days.
Ezekiel: Question: do I have to lie on the ground or do I get to lie on a mattress.
God: What’s a mattress?
Wait a minute. It says this contains lead. Oh well I think that’s good.
430 Days Later:
God: Hey Ezekiel! You can get up now. How are you doing?
Ezekiel: Oy my back is stiff! And my hives are still driving me crazy and I’ve got a horrible headache.
God: Just for future reference? Whenever I ask how you’re are doing, it’s rhetorical. But hey! You look like you’ve lost weight! You’re robe’s not nearly as tight.
Ezekiel: I know I may have to go new robe shopping after this!
God: Okay, but first what I want you to do is fix your eyes on the siege of Jerusalem, shake your fist at the city and prophesy against it.
Ezekiel: But my eyes are swollen shut, remember?
God: Still? Hahaha! Well listen I’m going to go jump in my unidentified flying biblical object and get you ice to put on them.
Ezekiel: Okay. Oh, say, God . . . if you happen to go by a chocolate-covered scroll drive-thru would you mind picking me up a few chocolate-covered scrolls and also a couple Chebar cheese goat burgers while you’re at it?
God:Eeeezeeekiiieeelll! Just when you’re robe is finally fitting right . . .
Ezekiel: Okay okay nevermind!
And there you have it, Dear Readers. What Gregory learned in Sunday school this week. Please check back next week for part three when Ezekiel gets are really bad haircut and hilarity ensues.
Welcome Dear Readers! I’m practically giddy. I can’t wait to show you all the offers that came in my mailbox yesterday for little ol’ moi! (I get giddy easy.)
Let’s start with this offer from Xfinity, shall we?
Okay, nice try to get me on board with your finity, Xfinity.
I noticed you are now calling yourself “the future of awesome” I’m sorry but I kinda don’t think you are.
Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything but you started it by sending me your offer to let me sign up for 2-year contract wherein you will be giving me a ton of channels that I’m never going to watch for $89 for the first year without mentioning how much you are going to raise that price in the second year.
Oh, wait, I see that in order to make your offer less lame, you are also offering to make my internet faster. But it’s already so fast that if I click on something it appears right away. Does it really need to be faster than that? I’m just asking Xfinity. (Can I call you X?)
X! Listen to reason! Wouldn’t that be like paying the power company extra if I want my light bulb to light up faster than the speed of light?
Well you just take your time to answer, X. It must be a heavy burden being the future of awesome. Just keep repeating to yourself “I am the future of awesome” until it finally makes sense. You can do it X. I have faith in you. (If you need me I’ll be on the phone with my power company negotiating my commission for a little idea I want to pitch to them . . .)
Okay, Hearing Aid Company, you don’t have to get all shouty. You’re not even sure if I’m deaf yet. I know you’re hoping I am, but calm down!
Huh?
Okay this sounds seems like a pretty good deal. They’re saying you get to try their hearing aid for three whole weeks to see if it works. But shouldn’t you be able to tell in, say, three minutes? I guess they are hoping that even if you can’t hear any better, if you wear the thing for three whole weeks you’ll become so attached to it, kind of like your favorite teddy bear (only one you stuff in your ears) you’ll be compelled to buy it.
A word of caution however. The small print says: certain types of hearing loss may require a hearing aid model that is not appropriate for the three-week free trial.
They must mean certain types of hearing loss that occur when you have potatoes growing out of your ears, I suppose, or maybe certain types of hearing loss that occur when you can’t hear anything because your ears are being plugged by hearing aids.
Okay here’s something that’s just downright disturbing!
Eerie junk mail stalking
Do you see where some weirdo junk mail stalker has written “Wow great idea!” “This could really save money!” and “Why wait? I’m calling today?” Oh yeah? Well butt out weirdo junk mail stalker! This junk mail is for ME. Get your own junk mail!
Hey Lookee! I am now a professional woman! FINALLY!
Okay, maybe I’m jumping the gun a little. I’m not a professional woman quite yet. But my membership as a professional woman has been approved! Yup. I’m gonna network, I’m gonna learn, I’m gonna save. Now all I have to do is make some powerful connections, build my personal brand and sit back and watch the money roll in!
I’m gonna be rich, Baby!
I knew it would all happen for me some day. I never gave up hope that my status as a woman would someday reach the level of professional. After all, I’ve got 10,000 hour thing covered and them some! It was only a matter of time before National Association of Professional Woman came a knockin’. I’m getting giddy just thinking about it! (Did I mention I get giddy easy?)
Welcome Dear Readers! Today, if you’re not feeling a little nauseous already, I thought it might be fun to flip through this House Beautiful Magazine from everyone’s favorite icky decade: The Slightly Creepy Seventies!
Isn’t this bedroom eye-crossingly wonderful? But it needs something more, don’t you think? To really give it that Slightly Creepy Seventies flair? Like a focal point of some kind . . .
But what kind of a focal point? Hm. . . .
Okay! That’s what the Slightly Creepy Seventies is talking about! Because there’s nothing like the addition of a weird, eerie male bedspread model to give any 70’s decor that much needed splash of slightly creepy!
Now let’s turn to the next page shall we? Ready? (I’ll wait if you want to pop a Pepto Bismal.)
Whoa! Obviously, the Slightly Creepy Seventies had the highest tolerance for decorative cheerfulness than all the other decades put together.
Now, this room is a good example of what happened back in the 70’s when your Slightly-Creepy Seventies Interior Decorator scarfed down a big bowl of yellow chrysanthemums and washed it down with a great big pitcher of ice-cold LSD for breakfast and then rushed over and redecorated your family room while in the throws of a cheerfulness overdose.
Actually, Cheerfulness Overdose was a common problem in the Slightly Creepy Seventies. In fact, more interior decorators were buried with huge grins on their faces in the Slightly Creepy Seventies than any other decade in history!
So I guess you could say there’s an upside to everything.
Hey! Look what awaits us on the next page . . .
Yes, you’re seeing that correctly. It’s a rocking chair on the beach. And why not? After all, life in the Slightly Creepy Seventies was stranger than it’s ever been before or since.
And speaking of rocking chairs on the beach, I think I vaguely remember a Brady Bunch Episode involving a rocking chair/beach incident: I’ll try to retell it as best I can from memory:
Mike Brady: MarshaMarshaMarsha! Peter! Greg! Cindy! and Whatever the rest of your names are! We’ve driven 87 hours and we are finally at the beach!
MarshaMarshMarsha:But Dad, we live somewhere in LA. Why did it take us 87 hours to get here? The Pacific Ocean is just down the street.
Mike Brady:What?
Carol Brady: Oh Mike, you did it again. Hahahahahaha! You turned left when you should have turned right! Hahahahaha! We’re not at the Pacific Ocean, children, we’re at the Atlantic Ocean! Hahahahahaha!
Mike Brady: Hahahahahahahahahaha!
Alice: Hahahahahaha! I’ll lug the rocking chair down to the beach while you Bradys wait in the car and laugh.
Carol Brady: Hahahhahaha—
Alice: Wait a minute! Hold the landphone! The rocking chair’s not here! Somebody forgot it! I’m not one to point fingers but I think it was MarshaMarshaMarsha.
Mike Brady: Well, kids, it looks like we’re turning around and driving 87 hours home to get it. Hahahhahaha.
Carol Brady: But wait Mike, you left MarshaMarshaMarsha at the Atlantic Ocean.
Mike Brady: Hahahahhahahaha!
Carol Brady: Hahahahahahaha!
Say now, this next item looks interesting.
Her name was Betty Knowles and she lost 4 pounds and 6 inches off her waist in only eight days back in the Slightly Creepy Seventies using this lever and pulley exercise contraption. Unfortunately, once Betty got it all set up and herself situated inside of it, she could never figure out how to get out. Eight days later Betty was not only much, much slimmer, but also, she wasn’t wasting valuable time breathing or having a pulse anymore. Unfortunately she wasn’t found until last week about a quarter to five.
Sure, it was a sad Slightly Creepy Seventies demise for poor Betty Knowles, but the good news is she has been chosen as the main attraction at the Smithsonian Institute’s much anticipated upcoming exhibit: Mummified Peoples of the Slightly Creepy Seventies.
Proving once again there’s an upside to everything!
Well, Dear Readers, that’s it for today. If you need me I’ll be down at the Pacific Ocean. I’ll be the one sitting in the rocking chair eating a big bowl of yellow chrysanthemums.
On May 27th, the Pentagon admitted that it had shipped live anthrax to facilities in multiple U.S. states, and to a U.S. airbase in South Korea—by accident. Anthrax is usually kept in highly secure biolabs with multiply redundant safeguards. But we’ve always known there is room for human error. —Nautilus Magazine
The possible scenario as to how this big Whoopsie happened:
Larry and Lenny, Pentagon Live Anthrax Experts
Lenny: Hey Larry whatcha eatin’?
Larry: Dessert.
Lenny: It looks weird, what is it?
Larry: Creme brulee. I make it myself. I brought extra if you want one.
Larry’s killer creme brulee
Lenny: Oh cool! I’ll definitely try one.
Larry: Okay.
Lenny: Where are they?
Larry: On that table over there.
Lenny: The one with the test tubes on it?
Larry: No the one behind it.
Lenny: You mean the one with the beakers on it?
Larry:No, the table in the back. I put them right next to all those Live Anthrax Petri dishes you made yesterday.
Lenny’s Killer Live Antrax
A few minutes later:
Larry: Well, what do you think of my creme brulee, Lenny?
Lenny: Mm . . . this is killer creme brulee, Larry!
Larry: Yeah, I guess you could say creme brulee is my specialty.
Lenny: Why’d you make so many?
Larry: I sending them to all my buddies in our nine different labs around the US and South Korea.
Lenny: That’s really nice of you but aren’t you worried you’ll get the creme brulee and the live Anthrax mixed up?
Larry: Naaaaaa.
Lenny: Well it’s going to cost you a fortune to ship them.
Larry: Hahahaha!
Lenny: Why are you laughing?
Larry: Are you kidding? Uncle Sam’s paying for it.
Lenny: You want to know something, Larry, just between you and me?
Larry: What?
Lenny:I haven’t paid for a single postage stamp since I started working at the Pentagon in 1992.
Lenny: Me neither.
Until next time . . . I love you (especially you Pentagon!)
