satire

It Came in the Mail Especially for Little Ol’ Moi!

Linda Vernon It Came In the Mail , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Readers! Good News. Lookee what I got in the mail!

(No, I didn’t get this arrow, it’s just suppose to be pointing down to what I got.)

The Great Courses want me back! This could only mean one of two things: either they want me back because they somehow found out I hate school, and they think I need to step it up education-wise OR they’ve got me mixed up with somebody else.  I suspect the latter or maybe the former. (I’ve never really known the difference.)

Apparently The Great Courses don’t know I’ve hated school since the second day of first grade. Oh sure, the first day was fun but then a pattern of no fun started developing, and it was all downhill from there on out.

Anywayz, (yeah you heard me Great Courses I said anywayz — you gonna do somethin’ about it?  Yeah? . . .  you and what university? . . . .) Anywayz, like I was saying, apparently it is this guy who thinks I need to take some courses.

This is supposed to be pointing down! This stupid arrow just isn’t working right.

Now I’m not saying that Robert M. Hazen is not as wonderful as he himself thinks he is (and no you may NOT call him Bob), I’m just saying that the look in Robert’s eye is a little unsettling — even if he has deemed himself  to be in the top 1 % of professors in the world.

And how did he go about deeming himself thusly?  Well, it was easy (for him).

First he took the number of teaching awards he has accumulated and divided it by the number of evaluations he’s had published. Then, he took that number or “quotient” (as the top 1% professors call it) and multiplied it by the number of  newspaper write ups featuring none other than  Robert M. Hazen Ph.D, Harvard University! .  . . . Harvard University!  . . . . .Harvard university!  . . . . . university!(Robert was going to get that echo fixed but he’s decided he kinda likes it.)

So what if Robert M. Hazen didn’t ask any of the students who took classes from him what they thought! Who gives a hoot what they think — they’re students . . . ew!

So here’s one of the “Great Courses” Robert is offering for twenty bucks but he’s quick to point out that it is 75% off and which made it $760 originally (arithmetic may vary) .  Here it is:

Oh screw the arrow! Just pretend there’s an arrow here pointing down.

Not only will Robert be teaching what he knows about the unsolved mysteries of the universe, he will, for no extra charge, be teaching everything he doesn’t know about the universe!  A subject about which top 1 % professor, Robert could drone on and on for year and years or his name isn’t Robert M. Hazen Ph.D., Harvard University .  . . . Harvard University!  . . . . .Harvard university!  . . . . . university!

Hey guess what? Robert loves that echo so much he’s decided to get one installed in his house! You go Robert!

Until next time . . . I love you

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

Linda Vernon My Brain, Peanuts, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

Pottery Barn: What’s Wrong with Grams?

Linda Vernon Pottery Barn , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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!)

Signs you’ve gotten too much sun this summer

Linda Vernon Lists , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

<

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

Linda Vernon Trifecta Writing Challenges , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

Linda Vernon Comics , , , , , , , , , , ,

Our Beloved Al

8″ People I Admire

Linda Vernon Baby Eating and Whatnot , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Reader and welcome to today’s post where we will be taking  a look at 8″ people I admire.  Let’s start with:

The Musically Determined Little Johnny Carver

 Little Johnny Carver is only 8″ high, but did that stop him from becoming one of the most outstanding country artists of his time? With hits like Your Lily White Hands, New Lips and Don’t Monkey with Another Monkey’s Monkey under his tiny little belt, Itty-bitty Johnny Carver is taking all the right teeny-weeny steps to musical stardom!  Proving that no matter how small you start out, it is possible to become a huge success (figuratively speaking, of course!)  And so Johnny Carver, I drink a toast to you!

The Courageous Spoinky McSpecks!

The courageous life of 8″ high pizza delivery boy, Spoinky McSpecks is a tale of determination and bravery the likes of which has yet to be equaled in the pizza delivery world.  Risking his life up to 20 times a day, delivering pizzas and getting lousy tips (even though they are practically as big as he is), Spoinky remains steadfast to his mission while facing terrible dangers like getting tangled up in duct tape and other life threatening situations that is annoying to you and I — but is potentially fatal  to 8″ people!  And so I say:  Spoinky McSpecks I salute you!

Everybody’s Favorite 8″ Russian:  KhanIhazmy Chekplez

8″ virtuoso KhanIhazmy Chekplez has never let his small stature deter him from his dream of playing the lilting strains of the Extra-large Slavic Ukelele.  Oh sure, it’s a strain for him alright, both physically, mentally, and emotionally, but you’d never know it by the look on his face!  My hat’s off to you KhanIhazmy Chekplez!

These four 8″ people equal 32″ of fun!

Even though these four people,  when laid end-to-end, wouldn’t even reach the of a yardstick, that hasn’t dampened their enthusiasm one bit!   Here they are, merrily going about their bookkeeping duties using the same size pencils we normal sized people use without a care in the world even though the toll on their backs has to be tremendous!  And that is why I have to say to this fun loving group of 8 Inchers:  I applaud your ‘smarvelousness!

And there you have it, Dear Reader! The courageous lives of some very special 8″ people I admire!
Until next time . . . I love you

Trying to Explain the Inexplicable World of Metropolitan Home Magazine

Linda Vernon Baby Eating and Whatnot, Modern Living Decor , , , , , , , , ,

Today Dear Reader, we will be taking a stab at trying to explain the inexplicable world of Metropolitan Home Magazine.

Mommy, where’s my milk?

I put it in the elegantly expressed living room that is a mélange of diverse elements put together with a very sure hand.

Can I go get it?

No. you’ll mess up the mélange!

But I’m thirsty!

Too bad! Suck it in.

Mommy, may I go upstairs now?

No.

Why not?

Because we live in a one-story Metropolitan house.

But isn’t that a staircase behind me?

No, it’s a painting!  Ha ha!  You just fell for the oldest trick in the designer book, Bobby!

Bobby don’t cry.  I was just kidding!  I love you, Bobby!  Hey I know!  Why don’t you roll the coffee table outside and ride it down a steep hill?

But won’t I mess up the mélange of diverse elements put together with a very sure hand?

Oh yeah, never mind!

Gosh, I don’t think life gets anymore perfect than sitting among this unabashed celebration of modern living as I thumb through a Metropolitan Home Magazine in which I am featured sitting among this unabashed celebration of modern living thumbing through a copy of Metropolitan Home Magazine!

Mommy, where’s my hotdog?

It’s in a bed suspended by ropes dangling over a cliff to showcase a mélange of diverse elements put together with a very sure hand..  What a silly question!

Can I go get it?

No. you’ll mess up the mélange!

But I’m hungry!

Too bad! Suck it in.

Meet Vanessa Victoria Splatums. She’s old enough to have white hair, but she’s young enough and hip enough to hate her kitchen because it’s not mélang-y enough.  Well, sorry to have to be the one to break the news to you Vanessa Victoria Splatums, but your kitchen hates you too!

Mommy can I get the kitty out and pet her?

Shh . . . we’re trying to look at our mélange of diverse elements put together with a very sure hand.

Mommy, I think the kitty’s thirsty, can I get her out?

No you’ll  mess up the mélange.

But she’s thirsty!

Too bad, she’ll just have to suck it in like everyone else in this world.

* * *

And there you have it, Dear Reader, our stab at trying to explain the inexplicable world of Metropolitan Home Magazine.

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta Writing Challenge: The Life and Times of Spinkz Mccoy

Linda Vernon Trifecta Writing Challenges , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Here’s what the Trifecta Writing Challenge  was for this weekend:

For this weekend, we want to play on an oft-noted literary concept: that of the opening line of a book (also known as an incipit, if you’re fancy).  A great first line can reel in the audience, set the pace for the entire piece, and make for an enjoyable read right off the bat.  Conversely, a weak opening can lose readers before the characters even have a chance.  There are lots of great sites and books dealing with the idea of the incipit.  Here’s just one.

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 there you have it, Dear Reader! This challenge was a lot of fun — I highly recommend it!

Thrift Store Finds: Andy the Handy Anal Retentive Man

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Readers! I had a little extra time on my hands the other day, and I just happened to be driving by the thrift store, so I dashed in for a second and came away the proud new owner of:

Handy Andy Magazine from 1980!

Now before you go thinking that Handy Andy is one of those guys who pretends to be a Handy Man as a way of getting inside your house, scoping out the place and coming back at a more convenient time to steal all your possessions and  murder you, you would be wrong.

After carefully perusing this  Pocket-Size Do It Yourself Guide for Everyone for blood stains and having found none, I have come to the conclusion that Andy isn’t a murderer at all but simply a misunderstood Anal Retentive handy man who can get a little peevish if somebody messes with his tools.

Let’s take a look inside shall we?

Here are some 1980 anal retentive tips sent in by some 1980 Handy Andy Magazine’s anal retentive readers:

Andrew Vena Has an Anal Retentive Suggestion to save you money!

Andrew Vena suggests reusing sanding disks by cleaning them off!  It easy! You just:  1) scrape off the ridges with a knife 2) apply varnish remover 3)wait for paint to soften 4) hold the sanding disk under running water 5) remove goo with a wire brush and viola! the sanding disk will be as good as new saving you, the handyman or woman, the cost of a new sanding disk! And the best part?  Every time you reuse that sanding disk, you’ll be pocketing a cool 35 cents instead of forking it over to The Man!

Mrs. Jane Johnson Writes Poignantly about Shelf Protectors!

Who else but Mrs. Jane Johnson of Minnetonka could have thought of this ingenious  idea!  And that is to put the plastic lids of cans that came with plastic lids on the bottom of other cans that didn’t come with plastic lids so that the cans that didn’t come with plastic lids can go under the cans with . . or maybe over the cans that, uh  . . .   oh who cares, she’s probably dead anyway!

Here’s a dandy Handy Andy Anal Retentive Tip from Wilfred Beaver of Sparta Wis.!

Apparently Wilfred Beaver’s shower is on the fritz again because he has to wash his hair in a lavatory and his dog’s hair in the bathtub and vice versa.  And apparently Wilfred Beaver’s hair follicles are bailing out in record numbers every time he washes his hair in the lavatory and/or bathtub which has caused Wilfred Beaver to feel the need to dam his lavatory drain with “a wad of steel wood.”  Oh sure it sounds gross, but it’s the kind of activity that keeps Wilfred Beaver busy. And Mrs. Wilfred Beaver isn’t complaining — so why should we?

Well, Dear Readers, that’s all the anal retentive Handy Andy tips we have time for today, but check back in  tomorrow when we will be having fun explaining some of the mysterious illustrations (dont’ worry they’re not bloodstains, I’m pretty sure)  included our 1980 Handy Andy Magazine!

Until next time . . . I love you

Death on Deck

Linda Vernon Existence and Stuff, My Brain, Peanuts , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’ve noticed lately that a lot of my writing seems to have taken on a death theme.  I don’t know whether to blame myself or my brain, Peanuts.

Maybe it’s just that Peanuts and I are getting older; and when you get to be our age, the future isn’t as wide open and expansive as it used to be.

Peanuts and I have reached the crest of the hill of life, whereupon it’s all downhill from here on out.  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the ride down that hill (in a car without any brakes) to one’s final destination (a drop off to the unknown) isn’t fun, as such.

I’m just saying that once you’re hurtling down that hill in the Death Car of Life, the scenery is going by way too fast.  Which is ironic because when you get older, you tend to want to go slower and dwell on the little details of life, like shrubbery, or the quality of the current garbage service or whether or not they overcharged you for that ham.

“Will you hurry up! You’re going to die in an hour and a half!”
“I know, but look at these shrubs!”

When you get to be Peanuts and my age, you’re Christopher Columbus looking through the para-scope and spotting West Indies only instead of spotting the West Indies you’re spotting death.

Oh sure, you’re not there yet, but Death (and/or the West Indies) is looming on the horizon as big as life!

Gulp!

What Peanuts and I usually do when we find ourselves thinking about death is try not to think about death.  And amazingly, this tactic actually works. The thought process goes something like this:

Someday I’m going to die, which means I won’t exist anymore, which means I’ll be dead which means everything I have ever done in my life and everyone and everything I have ever loved in my life will be kaput and I shall never, EVER pass this way again . . . OK, well I guess I’ll go vacuum now.

When you really think about it, death is what motivates the human race to accomplish things because when we’re really busy getting a lot stuff done, it’s a lot easier to pretend we are never going to die.

I only hope that when it’s Peanuts and my turn to be sucked through that tunnel towards the light, that everything on the other side will have lived up to the term “to die for”.

Until next time  . . . I love you

The Pottery Barn Decor That Will Make You More Intriguing

Linda Vernon Pottery Barn , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear Readers!  The new Pottery Barn Catalog just arrived and not a moment too soon!  For you see, in this issue of The Catalog, Pottery Barn finally provides solutions to how we, as boring, ordinary citizens, can become more intriguing!

“Your Home Tells the Intriguing Story of who you are, where you’ve been and what inspires you most.” — Pottery Barn Catalog August 2012

What Pottery Barn means by this is that your home WILL tell an intriguing story of how intriguing you are IF you purchase fake-intriguing-story-about-you decor from Pottery Barn.

Frankly, PB suspects you’re not all that intriguing which is why Pottery Barn has taken the liberty of punching up your life through the use of decor that implies you are all that and a bag of potato chips. Let’s look as some examples, shall we?

What fake, intriguing story do the decorative elements in this Pottery Barn room say about you?

The intriguing story this Pottery Barn wall decor says about you is:

  You don’t quite understand about the alphabet. 

Oh sure we all learned our ABC’s . . . except for you.  Why?  Because you were too busy helping Grams hunt for truffles at Martha’s Vineyard and, therefore, never attended school with all the other “saps” which means you can’t read or write. So now you obsessively nail gigantic wooden letters to your walls.  So what? That’s not weird, it’s intriguing!

The intriguing story this Pottery Barn vignette says about you is:

You’re favorite snack is honey and shredded Parmesan cheese.

Ah! Nothing quenches the thirst and eases the hunger pangs quite like a refreshing jar of honey and a big ol’ heaping bowl of shredded Parmesan cheese after a long day of helping Grams frantically dig for truffles at Martha’s Vineyard in the backyard estates of the rich and famous before they come home.

You and Grams prefer a snack that sticks to your ribs, your fingers as well as your Pottery Barn Vintage Printer’s Customizable Cabinet!  Oh sure, let people roll their eyes at how messy you are!  That’s the difference between them and you.  They’re stupid, and YOU’RE INTRIGUING!

The  intriguing story this Pottery Barn Blackboard says about you is:

Your grandmother is a drug dealer.

If you look closely at this blackboard, you will see that somebody has written “EMPTY Da Da Da Da.”  and  “Do EMPTY 4” 

And you know you didn’t write it because you are too intriguing to know how to read and write.  Could it have been Grams?

Wait a minute why are the police leading Grams out to that police car?

What? All those truffles Grams was digging up (and sampling) turned out to be hallucinogenic mushrooms which she apparently was selling to earn money to purchase intriguing-story-about-you decor from Pottery Barn?

Ha ha!  That Grams!  While most grandmothers are sitting at home in their rocker knitting sweaters, reading  Reader’s Digest and clipping coupons, YOUR Grams is trading cigarettes, working out and filing appeals!

And if that doesn’t make YOU intriguing, Pottery Barn doesn’t know what does!

Until next time . . . I love you

Ten Reasons Why You Might Be Feeling Fat

Linda Vernon Health and Beauty, Lists , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

Science Shannigans

Linda Vernon What the Scientiests are Thinking About , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Cartoon of Einstein calculating math

Hello Dear Readers! Today we are going to break  out our test tubes, put on our lab coats and push our glasses farther up on our noses to examine actual science stories from the around the web.

Of course, I have taken the liberty of paraphrasing and punching up things up a bit to make it, you know, more interesting.

After Checking All the Evidence, No Evidence Has Been Found

In an effort to reassure itself that there are no such things as mermaids, the US National Ocean Service has announced that no evidence of aquatic humanoids has ever been found.  They would have said that there are no such things as mermaids but they thought  “aquatic humanoids” sounded more like they are providing a worthwhile service to American Citizens for which they really do deserve a weekly paycheck.

It’s a rock . . .No it’s a boulder . . . .NO! IT’S A MOON

A team of astronomers who were taking turns looking into the Hubble Telescope found another big boulder about 15 miles across orbiting Pluto. The fifth one so far!!  In a scientific burst of creativity, they have decided to call it P5.

In an effort to figure out why anybody would care, the astronomers came up with the following:

“The new detection will help scientists navigate NASA’s New Horizons spacecraft through the Pluto system in 2015. . . “

Apparently the New Horizons spacecraft is hurtling through space at such a tremendous speed that something the size of a BB hitting it could destroy it.

Astronomers are secretly happy about this turn of events because now instead of just sitting around playing Twenty Quasars and waiting for New Horizons to get to Pluto; they also get to take turns looking through Hubble Telescope for objects orbiting Pluto the size of BB’s.

Don’t Get The Moon in Your Eyes

An international team of researchers who needed something to do while waiting for their uniforms to dry, decided to speculate how bad breathing in lunar dust would be.

After exhaustively utilizing their brains’ capacity to think while ingesting large quantities of beer and pizza, they decided  that “inhaling lunar dust by breathing it into your lungs could increase the risk of  cancer”  and “getting lunar dust into your eyes could cause eye irritation.”

The international team of researchers somehow managed to stumble back to the lab and type up two white papers entitled: The Health Hazards of Inhaling Lunar Dust While Gasping for Air” and “Scratching Ones Eyes Out While Gasping For Air With Lunar Dust on Ones Hands Can Lead to Eye Irritation” before passing out into  a big heap of international researchers on the lab floor.

And there you have it, Dear Readers!  I  hope that this summary of the latest Science Shenanigans has helped us to better understand ourselves and the world around us!

Until next time. . . I love you

Sunday School Dropout Bible Stories: The Story of Noah

Linda Vernon Sunday School Dropout Bible Stories , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
“Think we’ll all fit?”
“I don’t know, I was asking around and the Unicorns don’t seem to think so.”

A very, very, very, very long time ago (biblical scholars disagree on the exact amount of  verys) there was a man named Noah who was very ,very, very old (here three verys is widely accepted).

Back in the day when Noah lived, lifespans were much longer — and nobody fell and couldn’t get up until they were well past 500 years old.

When Noah was 500 years old, he had three sons which meant he was raising teens when he was 513 years old — proving that wisdom doesn’t always come with age. (His sons were named Shem, Ham and Japheth which ALL biblical scholars agree were horrible names.)

During these years, the people of earth were basically running hog wild, some people were giants, some people were supernatural beings and some people were goats. The whole kit and kaboodle was  just one big, fat, ugly mess.  You don’t even want to know the details! Whenever God looked down on the earth, He just felt sick, so He decided to cause a great flood and start again from scratch.

But God really liked Noah because Noah was well-mannered, and agreeable and laughed at all his jokes.

God told Noah what his plans were.

God:  Hello Noah?  It’s me, God, say, I was just thinking I would destroy everybody on earth because they are all so evil, you know what I mean?

Noah:  Oh absolutely! Definitely! I don’t blame you one bit! Ha ha!

God:  Yes, well, I’ve decided to let you live.

Noah:  Who moi?  Aw shucks, thanks God!

God:  Not a problem. Anyway, you need to build an ark 450 feet long and 75 feet wide and 45 feet high leaving 18 inches between the roof and the . . . are you writing this down?

Noah:  No

God:  Ok, I’ll wait while you go find a pencil.

While God was waiting on Noah, he couldn’t help looking around.  Golden idols and empty wine jugs were strewn everywhere, the lute and harp music was blaring so loud God couldn’t hear Himself think, and everyone was shouting, “gimme! gimme! gimme!” at the top of their lungs;  plus there was a lot of pushing and shoving and strangling going on.

God was happy when Noah finally came back with his pencil.

Later:

God:  Okay, Noah, let’s summarize.  I’ve given you specific, detailed instructions for you to build an ark, AND put two of every animal aboard. So read back what you’ve got.

Noah:  Oh sure!  Absolutely!  Let’s see here . . . you want me to build a boat-

God:  NO! Not a boat!  An Ark!  I want you to build an ARK !

Noah:  Ok, Ok, I’m erasing!  Let’s see . . . and you want me to put three of every kind of animal on board and–

God:  Not THREE!  TWO you idiot!

Noah:  OK, OK, I’m erasing already! . . .two. . .  you . . .  idiot— is there one or two t’s in idiot?

Oy! thought God.

Epilogue

After the flood dried up, and Noah got off the ark, the first thing he did was plant a vineyard.  Then he made some wine, got swacked, got naked, staggered to his tent and passed out.

The bible fails to mention what God thought of this.  Most scholars think it was OY!

“Noah! Are you just going to leave us here?”
“Was it something we said?”
“Has anybody seen my golden idol?”
“Moooooooo?”

Until next time . . . I love you