Saturday, November 28, 2015

Breaking My Routine

First thing in the morning, I scratch my butt. I needed to break my routine, so I scratched my stomach. I realized my growth was being stymied by silly routine.
I switched off and put on my socks before underwear. Shaved my left cheek before my right. I was changing my whole routine. I drove past my Burger King and found a McDonald's. Ordered decaf coffee, black. Went with oatmeal instead of sausage and egg on a biscuit. Sat bby a window, far from the men's room.
Later, I did my walk on the high school track instead of the park. The excitement was overwhelming.
At 11 am Louise called asusual. But I didn't answer. Instead I would call Ed, who I hadn't spoken to in months.
First I have to scratch my butt.

Binge Eating

Augie stared at the carton of cole slaw, fork in hand. He was primed for attack. A voice inside his head reminded him of his promise to his late mother. Eat slow. Chew your food. Swallow carefully. He had made the mistake of trying to change his eating habits using an avocado.
Truthfully, once he cut it open and ejected the pit, he couldn't stop himself from burying his face into the mushy insides.
So he decided to try control with cole slaw. The first few forkfuls went well, but then his body began shaking. It was rebelling. In one fierce motion, he buried his face in the carton and sucked out the slaw.
Betty, his girlfriend, returned home at that moment. He jerked his face up, nose covered in slaw.
He could only apologize and promise it would not happen again. At least not with cole slaw. His mother would have thrown a shoe.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Hair Tousling

The easiest way to make friends is to tousle someone's hair. I use only my index and middle finger so as not to alarm them. Hugging is too quick and smelly/ Slapping palms is not intimate enough.
Mousse is a problem. I like its feel myself, but people are sensitive about messing up mousse.
Hip bumping was my old way of making friends until arthritis entered the picture. Neck licking really isn't sanitary. Rubbing noses is for kids.
I tickle the ear hair of balding men. Conversation soon follows. Sometimes there is a misunderstanding leading to awkward instep kissing and armpit noogies. Clear intent is key here.
In an airport, walk up to lonely travelers and tousle their hair or scratch their beard. Life is more enjoyable with friends.

Betrayal

Popeye paced back and forth, puffing hard on his pipe. Olive Oyl sat on the couch, head down.
I isn't what you think, she said. Let me explain.
I saw you coming out of a Motel 6 with Bluto. It's all pretty clear.
He needed someone to talk to. His doctor said he was hypertensive and diabetic.
Popeye shook his head.
I looked the other way when those rumors floated around. You and Beetle Bailey. You and Steve Canyon. You and Nancy Drew. You and Charlie Sheen. I don't know what to believe anymore.
Olive came to him and he pushed  heraway. I was just going to remove spinach from between your teeth like I used to, she said.
I don't think this relationship can be saved, he said.
Olive gritted her teeth. Fine, she growled. You want to break up, fine with me. But this is what you'll be missing, sailor boy.
She ripped off her ankle length dress and stood there in her long underwear. Popeye dropped his pipe. It had been far too long. Something feral in him responded to this Bad Girl standing there. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
He'd deal with Bluto later.

Wee Willie Winkle

Wee Willie ran through the lingerie section of Macy's burying his face in lace. Once security tossed him out he realized he had a gender confusion problem. His roommate, Dondi, was having his own problems trying to find his parents. They sat in front of the TV Monday night critiquing Supergirl's color choices.
Despite his name, Wee Willie had impressive equipment and as word got around, a man offered him a job doing porno. Dondi admitted he also had those offers, but declined.
Willie thought perhaps because of his gender confusion he could do both male and female roles. There was a knock on the door. It was Dilbert looking for companionship. Both roommates decided to stay mum about the offers. Dilbeet was a high end engineer with his own cubicle who would not understand poverty.

Rugby Fever

Marion and Eunice were strong young women who loved rugby. But there were no teams in their area. So they went to local fields where soccer reigned and decided to introduce this wonderful sport to the populace. They waited until halftime before charging onto the field and tackling one of the referees.
Parents thought he was under attack and ran to his defense. In seconds, the entire center field was covered with adults pushing each other and rolling around in the dirt. The kids soon joined in the fun.
It took three cops to break up the scrum. Fourteen people were taken to the hospital. Marion and Eunice were eventually sentenced to community service collecting leaves. The referee, dateless for months, got Marion's phone number. They are going to see a movie this weekend.

Monday, November 16, 2015

If Dogs Ruled

The Dog Debates were rancorous to say the least. The poodle barely barked above a whisper, the yorkie never shut up. The Great Dane demanded more fire hydrants, the afghan seemed above it all. The shepherd promised stronger leashes for humans, while the Lab suggested they were mature enough to go without. A mixed breed expressed sympathy for the awkward, slow humans.
Dalmatians could not sit still. A bulldog said its needs were not being met. Wolfhounds had identity issues.
Three qwls were moderating. Should mimes on the street be bitten? Should biting be limited? Is it ultimately pointless? What about butt sniffing?
Is growling still effective?
A dachshund broken down and admitted he was in love with Miss Piggy. The group was disgusted. Lassie was understandable, but a pig?

Paper Mache

Bettina loved working with her hands. She had been a poet, but that could be too cerebral.  But once she took a class in paper mache she knew that was her future.
She cleared out her basement, created a studio and went to work. Bettina began small, making paper mache soap, jewelry and paper weights. Then she got bigger. End tables, mattresses, lamps, desks etc.
Since she had no friends she decided to create a paper mache poetry group. Men, women, all ages. Some looked strange, but strange was somethig she embraced.
She sat them around a table and named them. There they were, notebook and pen in front of them, ready to write and recite.
Sit up straight, Joseph. And project!
Paper mache did tend to sag after awhile.

Banjo Heaven

Charles carried his banjo everywhere. He sat on park benches and played it on buses, He had a pleasing voice  and never stopped smiling. His fingers flew across the strings. Charles had to quit his job as a hedge fund manager because of the stress.
But things were different now.

Eunice was someone who spoke her mind. When she saw Charles sitting in the park, beaming and nodding to all, she walked over and studied him. Sir, I do not think a whisk broom is meant to be employed in that way, she said.


Charles was baffled. Who was this crazy woman and why didn't she enjoy his music?
Would you like to hear something by James Taylor?
Who doesn't like a good banjo player?

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Things I Am Done With

Omelets with bacon instead of ham.
Surly fast food workers. Go ahead, spit in my coffee.
Ants. Leave my crumbs alone.
Unwanted neck hair.
Mattress covers that do not fit.
Peanuts, the comic strip. Charles Schultz is 15 years dead.
I am done with swimsuit models. Truthfully, that was not my decision.
Bus stops full of unsanitary people.
I am done with stressing over things I can't control. Like peeing straight.
I am seeking a happy place were I can think and create.
I'm thinking of your basement. Oh, I am not done with you.

My Regular Wardrobe

My regular wardrobe is dangerous, in that it excites women powerfully.
My imported argyle socks  matched with tasseled moccasins is fashion genius. My plaid lumberjack shirt jackets lead the ladies into salacious fantasy. Belts are made from Corinthian leather. I forge my own buckles with a welding set in my garage.
Alternating corduroy and denim gives me that earthy Brett Farve look. A man of action.
I prefer loose fitting t-shirts to give my massive chest hair room to breathe. I swear by Brazilian suede underpants with plenty of crotch room for spare change. Sometimes I stomp around my condo wearing nothing but the undies and work boots with steel tips.
I don baseball and fisherman's hats in warm weather. Come winter I employ my alpaca fur hats with thick ear flaps which I never use because manly men don't care if their ears get cold.
Do not bring up scarves.
On occasion I will wear suspenders in the presence of old people so they won't be intimidated by me.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Propellers in Revolt

Ned was an angry propeller who joined his fellow propellers in a strike, asking for better working conditions.  They were tired of revolving in the same direction, hated being at the front of planes or on wings. Helicopter props complained of stupid humans walking into them after landing and all the work cleaning off body parts.
Props located at the bottom of ships wanted more time out of water, especially in the Hudson River.
They wanted the establishment of Old Propeller Homes for those that had served well and no longer could spin. Parents could bring kids and explain their importance in war.
They are close to convincing ceiling fans and table fans to join them. Strength in numbers.

Strip Poker

Some sell their books using charm. I need to go with my strength, which is my body. My new strategy is similar to the strip poker concept. Buy one of my books and I'll send you a photo of one of my body parts without clothes. The more books you get, the more different photos of naked body parts you'll receive. Eventually, if you buy enough books, you can piece the photos together and get a composite of what I look like naked. I'm pretty sure this is almost legal. Go with your strength and do not look back, that's my philosophy.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Fear of Flying

Bernie was a 56 year old ad executive pulling down $400000 a year. He had a mansion, a beautiful wife and three high achieving kids.
As a boy he had never mastered the monkey bars and felt anxiety walking past a playground. He remembered getting halfway up, panicking and retreating. One day he decided this simply will not do.
On his way to work that morning, he entered a playground and removed his tie and jacket. He headed straight for the damn monkey bars. He closed his eyes and visualized climbing to the top.
As he slowly ascended, sweat pouring down his body, he glanced over to the swings, where, to his astonishment, he saw Jack from HR soaring high and yelling YES I CAN!
Emily, head secretary, was defeating the slide, whooping loudly. Carl, Executive VP of marketing, flrollicked in the sandbox, while Maury from security begged for someone to join him on the see saw.
Bernie realized there were lots of issues being worked out on that playground. Lots of issues.

Magical Skating Rink

Finn could not sleep and went for a walk in Verona Park. It was near midnight and he was depressed. He felt he was stagnating working in hs father's pork rind shop.
He was suddenly blinded by lights and sounds. Right where the pond was, a giant skating rink appeared. Skaters moved effortlessly, as though body mass was non existent. Skates attached to his feet and he was magnetically drawn to the rink.
Everyone was smiling and laughing. There was Al Capone, cigar in mouth and Liz Taylor and John Candy, the Marx Brothers and Lauren Bacall gliding along with Bogie. He saw Mother Theresa flaa on her rump with a squeal and Julia Chids went over and helped her up.
Finn felt a strong grip on his arm and realized it was Kate Hepburn. Speed it up, buster, I need to catch that one, she barked.  She pointed To Bette Davis, speeding along.
At dawn, the whole scene suddenly vanished and Finn found himself paddling in chip deep water.
To hell with pork rinds. He would become a world class figure skater.

Easter Island

Louis, working alone, came up with the diagrams for what became one of  the world's great mysteries--the statues on Easter Island. He used his own likeness as a model for these strange creations. Natives thought he was a god and held a festival that lasted three days.
But his mother in law was upset none of the figures had her likeness, nor her daughter's. Her daughter hated her marriage and the island, preferring to stay inside and do yoga. The natives sided with him and sent both women off on a small boat with limited rations.
Sadly, when aliens landed and vaporized Louis, all his records were lost as was his reputation. The aliens worshiped the statues and eventually taught the natives how to make eggplant parmigiana. Louis is lost to history. The statues were bought by Donald Trump. Stay tuned.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Two Ideas

China has adopted the two child policy. We should take a page from their book and begin the Two Idea Policy. Every adult would be allowed to express only two ideas throughout his lifetime. No more. This would clear the air of all the nonsense and unclog all our social systems that have put us in this national mess.
Because I've expressed this idea, that means I would have only one idea left in my life to communicate to others. You're breathing a sigh of relief. See? It works.
We have all sorts of creative thinking outside the box. What we don't have is ideas that actually work. We wouldn't have so many contentious debates about who is right. The punishment for blurting out  more than two ideas would be something along the lines of being forced to attend think sessions among Saturday Night Live writers.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Interrupters Retreat

I had high hopes for the Interrupters Retreat, held on 200 acres in New Hampshire. There were 30 of us from all over the East Coast. When the facilitator introduced the program, he was interupted many times with questions.
We had sessions spread out over the entire estate. We discussed the theory of interruptions and its history, which dated back to Socrates. He was interrupted during a lecture and sent the student to a dungeon. Socrates was a strict disciplinarian.
Our keynote speaker was interrupted so many times he couldn't finish his speech. We had all sorts of interruptions--polite, brusque, confused, mumbled, shouts and one deaf participant who used sign language.
Of course, no one could finish their points. Once, I paused during a sentence and everyone was caught off balance.
We all came away wiser from the experience. Sorry to interrupt your day.

Cousin Eddie

Mom dislikes Cousin Eddie, but I can't wait for him to visit. He does shadow animals on the wall. Rocky and Bullwinkle, cartoon characters popular way before I was born. He even does the voices. He did a pregnant mongoose and a three legged hippo. Cousin Eddie loves making kids laugh.
He sweats and sniffs a lot like he has a cold. Mom says he is sick. I don't see much wrong with him, but I'm only ten. He doesn't seem to have much money, but he's 22 and has plenty of time to make money. Right?
He asked me for money once. Silly, right?