Medical Humor

I’m not too keen on taking pills.  When my doctor prescribed some medication for high blood pressure, I asked if there were any side-effects.
He said, “Yes, longevity.”

***

I’m pretty sure my body is not a temple.  It’s a haunted house.  It’s slowly falling apart.  It makes strange noises, and it’s inhabited by the spirit of an old guy who’s always mad at something.

My wife says I’m unsophisticated and uncultured so; to prove her wrong, guess where I’m taking her.
Hint: It starts with B, and rhymes with “wallet.”

***

In one of my blog posts, my computer’s Auto-Correct changed ‘Joseph of Arimathea’ into “Joseph of Aroma Therapy!”

***

My daughter volunteered as an assistant monitor for the Great-grandson’s first swimming trip.  When her child’s towel went missing, an irate mother demanded, “What kind of juvenile delinquents are in class with my child?”
The daughter replied, “I’m sure it was taken accidently.  What did it look like?”
“It’s white,” said the parent, “and it says Holiday Inn on it.”

***

Dieter, and his grandfather Peter, were sitting on the side of a mountain in Bavaria.  Grampa Peter said, look down there at our village.  I helped build most of those houses, but do they call me Peter the house- builder?  NO!  Look at the church.  I climbed up and finished the spire, but do they call me Peter the church-builder?  NO!  See the stone wall where the road runs near the river.  I dug out and mortared most of those stones myself.  Do they call me Peter the wall-builder?  NO!  ….but I fuck one pig!!?

***

I just had another colonoscopy.  I asked the doctor to write me a note for my wife, stating that my head wasn’t up there.

***

WebMD is updating its server because of a virus.  Well, they think it was a virus, but it could also be malaria, kidney failure, a heart murmur, gallstones, or even appendicitis.

***

Historical Blog Prompt

What major historical events do you remember?

I CANNOT TELL A LIE

Of course I can!  I’ve been doing it since long before I started blogging.  Despite previous claims, I’m not really older than dirt, and didn’t know any T-Rex by their first names.

I was born at the end of 1944.  I don’t remember any of WW II, but I do remember the rationing that lasted for several years past the end of it.  It’s why we discovered margarine and powdered skim-milk, which we switched to.

I kinda, sorta, remember the Korean War.  An older cousin joined the Canadian Air Force, and was trained to fly the first jet planes.  He was the first pilot in Canada to crash because of G-force unconsciousness.  The Korean War is still ongoing.  There was a cease-fire – an armistice – but 70 years later, it is still valid and unresolved.

I remember the space race, where the US started out behind, but came on, to put a man on the moon first.  Modern society benefitted greatly from discoveries and developments, like miniaturization of computers, microwaves, and food-drying techniques, but when the political-manufacturing combine couldn’t easily wring more money out of it, they set it on a shelf, waiting for some crazed genius like Elon Musk to come along.

I remember the Cuban revolution, where a corrupt, repressive Banana Republic, capitalist government was replaced with a corrupt, repressive, Communist one.  Americans took their dolls and went home – except for Guantanamo Bay – leaving more room on the beaches for Canadians.

I remember the Cuban missile crisis, where Russia attempted to put nuclear weapons on America’s back door.  The heroic, King of Camelot, president, John F. Kennedy stood firm and prevented it.  The Russians, as a culture, are very insecure, and worried that other peoples regard them as unsophisticated peasants.  They didn’t even have an alphabet or written language until about AD 400, when St Cyril wrote one on a mirror for them.  Russian president, Nikita Khrushchev, took off one of his shoes, and pounded on the lectern at the United Nations.  Nothing shows the level of sophistication better than that.

Suddenly, it was a time for famous Americans to die before their time.  John F. Kennedy was assassinated.  His younger brother Robert F. Kennedy was shot dead, civil-rights activist Martin Luther King was gunned down, and even-younger Kennedy brother, Ted, accidently drowned Mary-Jo Kopechne, while trying to baptize her by driving off a bridge after a party.

The day that JFK was assassinated, I was writing a grade 11 history exam.  Our history teacher, who also taught us English, burst into the examination room and announced, “While you’re writing about history, history was being made.  President Kennedy was shot.”  He stood there for at least 15 seconds, in front of 30 gape-jawed, but silent faces, and finally asked, “What??!”  The keener girl said, “Is he dead?”  “Of course he’s dead.  I just told you that.”  “No sir, you said he’d BEEN SHOT!”  Not very good communication or English usage from an English teacher.

I watched the Berlin wall go up, and experienced the Berlin Blockade, when Russia tried to strangle West Berlin by closing East German highways to supply trucks.  I cheered as thousands of cargo planes flew over the blockade in the Berlin Airlift.  I watched as The Wall was pulled down, years later, and the SSRs splintered like flakes in a snow globe.

Somewhere along the line, Billy Joel wrote and performed the song, We Didn’t Start The Fire, about 50 years of this history.  Fundamentalist Christian Buy-Bull thumpers are forever insisting that we are in The Last Days, but we are always living in Interesting Times.

Stolen Words

The more things change, the more they stay the same.  Change is inevitable – except from a vending machine.  Our culture changes our language, and our language changes our culture.

Consider how much the language has changed since Samuel Johnson published his Dictionary of the English Language in 1755. One of the entries was the word “teen.” Today, we think of a teen as a person between the ages of 13 and 19 years. According to Johnson, the word means, “to vex, irritate, annoy, anger, enrage, inflict suffering upon, to afflict, harass, to injure, harm.” OK… Maybe that was a poor example. Essentially, the meaning is the same.

Along with everything else today, words are getting a terrible kicking around. In the attempt to achieve instant comprehension, mass communications have flattened words out so that shades of meaning are lost, categories and pigeonholes have replaced precise descriptions, punch and color have been abandoned… Conversation is edging toward verbal shorthand… Then there are euphemisms… Advertising, with its ever-changing private lingo will twist and adulterate any words it lays pen or tongue to for public consumption… and the politicos have a universal tendency to use words to conceal or confuse thought, to take the juice and flavor of speech and writing.

adolescence: A time of rapid changes between the ages of twelve and seventeen, when a parent can get as much as twenty years older.

amateur: A person who is always willing to give you the benefit of his inexperience.

belgard: A soft glance; a kind regard.

Christmas Eve: The shortest night of the year; from sundown to son-up.

diligence: An old-fashioned vehicle of success.

epitaph: A monumental lie.

free: The price is concealed.

golden rule: Give unto others the advice you can’t use yourself.

hug: A roundabout way of expressing affection.

Book Review #31

I thought that I’d heard a lot about Gilgamesh.  Turns out that I’ve just heard about Gilgamesh, a lot.

The book comes up often in debates between Christians and non-believers, because it is clearly fiction, but contains an account of The Flood, 1500 years before the guys who wrote the Bible, plagiarized it.  I thought that I should know more about it

The book: Gilgamesh

The author: Stephen Mitchell

The review:  Another disappointment.  As Gertrude Stein said, “There’s no there, there!”  😮

I listed Mitchell as the author, but no-one knows who the original author was.  To even use the term author is somewhat misleading.  This was an oral-tradition, told-around-the-fire saga, related by village story-tellers for centuries, beginning more than 5000 years ago, before one of them thought to put it down in cuneiform, the oldest form of writing, so that it would not be lost.

Over more centuries, other storytellers added to it, modified it, and deleted parts of it.  It got written in Akkadian, Sumerian, and then in Persian.  No complete version of it exists in any of the original languages.  An historian will spend years attempting to restore and translate one version of it.  Pottery breaks.  Vellum rots, and papyrus crumbles to dust.

Mitchell didn’t even translate one of them.  He took the work of five other translators, and shuffled their work together.  In spots where every version had common blank sections, he did what early authors did.  He added, edited, and embellished, to say what he thought it should say.

This touted Epic Saga would not hold the interest or attention of many people today, especially teenagers.  Lines are repeated.  Three-line verses which open chapters are repeated, to close them, to embed the account in its listeners.  It’s the story of a powerful bull of a man who is the king of a great idyllic city.  Mention is made of its mighty, six-mile-long, magnificent rampart wall.  I am not particularly impressed.  The boundaries of my tiny home-town of 2000, would be six miles – 1-1/2 miles per side of a square.

The city is joyous, with much music, singing, dancing, poetry, food and drink, and lots of free sex – yet this beloved king somehow oppresses it.  He insists on droit de seigneur, having sex with every bride on her wedding day, as well as other random females at will.  A naïve country lad, as big and strong as him is found.  He is ‘civilized’ with free sex, and brought to the king as a friend and limiting agent.

After some party time, their first adventure is to kill a Monster, whose only crime is to protect the trees of a cedar forest – the original eco-warrior.  This causes the friend to sicken and die, not only causing the anti-hero the anguish of loss, but presenting the specter of his own eventual death.  He then sets out on a voyage to the edge of the world, to find the secret of immortality.  Spoiler Alert: He doesn’t find it, only the grudging acceptance of reality.

The final chapter is an apparent addition, having nothing to do with the original.  For no reason given, a couple of gods decide to wipe out mankind by drowning it.  A trickster god (Like later Loki) warns some elite of the city.  They build a square boat, (?) as long on each side as the later Ark.  They and their animals survive the caprice of the gods, and repopulate the Earth.  Netflix coulda done it better.  😳

I Don’t Care About Nothing

Strawman

Nihilism, often misunderstood and misrepresented, shares a common plight with philosophies such as atheism, anarchism, and Marxism. Like its counterparts, nihilism is frequently subjected to the creation of strawman arguments in public discourse, resulting in its vilification and scapegoating. In this post, I aim to demystify nihilism by providing a clear definition, description, and defense of this philosophical perspective.

First, let’s address the misconception that nihilism entails a chaotic disregard for morality and societal norms: “If life has no meaning or purpose, then anyone can do anything.” This sentiment is often echoed in discussions about nihilism, as well as anarchism and atheism. However, it presupposes a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature. Despite the absence of inherent meaning in the universe, humans are not devoid of emotions or social affinities.

It is crucial to recognize that while the universe does not impart meaning or purpose, humans have constructed various systems of meaning throughout history. Whether through moral codes, religious doctrines, or cultural norms, individuals and societies have ascribed significance to different aspects of life. These constructs provide a framework within which individuals navigate their existence, albeit one that is socially constructed rather than inherent to the universe.

Critics of nihilism often argue that the acknowledgement of life’s inherent meaninglessness leads to despair and existential angst, rendering life devoid of purpose. However, this perspective fails to account for the resilience and adaptability of human beings. While some individuals may struggle initially with the realization that there is no inherent meaning, many nihilists find liberation in embracing the absence of preordained purpose. Rather than succumbing to despair, they recognize the freedom to create their own meaning and forge their own path in life.

It is essential to understand that nihilism does not negate the validity of individual or societal pursuits. While nihilists reject the notion of inherent meaning, they acknowledge the significance of subjective meaning and the importance of human connection, fulfillment, and well-being. Whether it is pursuing personal goals, fostering relationships, or contributing to the betterment of society, nihilists recognize the value of such endeavors within the context of human experience.

In conclusion, nihilism offers a perspective that challenges conventional notions of meaning and purpose. By acknowledging the absence of inherent meaning in the universe, nihilists embrace the freedom to create their own meaning and chart their own course in life. Far from being a philosophy of despair, nihilism invites individuals to confront the uncertainty of existence with courage and resilience, recognizing the inherent value of human experience in a world devoid of inherent meaning.

Thanx to Microglyphics for saying this much better than I could, and forgiving me my trespass of reblogging it, with neither permission nor notification that I’ve done so.  Read his stuff.

In Defence of Nihilism: Embracing the Absence of Inherent Meaning ‹ Philosophics ‹ Reader — WordPress.com

 

’24 A To Z Challenge – G

No matter where you go – There you are!

I’d have published this post earlier, but my Procrastinators Anonymous meeting started late.  😮

Johnny Cash sang, I’ve Been Everywhere.  I/we never had the time or money to be everywhere, but I’ve been to a number of interesting places.  Before I retired, I went with my brother, and swam in the ocean at Tampa, Key West, and Daytona Beach.  I took the wife, and swam at Myrtle Beach, and Charleston.  I told a Canadian Snowbird that I’d visited Myrtle Beach, and he asked me if I was into golf or tattoos.  Every third store on the main drag sells either golf equipment, tattoos, or printed tee-shirts – often about either golf or tattoos.

I’ve said that I had to retire, just to have the time to drive the wife and I, and daughter, to all our medical appointments.  Take last week – Please!  Monday I went to the hospital for a bone density scan.  Tuesday, the wife and I went to our Osteopath.  Wednesday was only a trip to a big mall, so that the wife could purchase a newer, better, smarter, more powerful, cell phone.  She had it for three days before she lost it!  😦  We got it back, but I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on her.

Thursday, I took the daughter and wife to their podiatrist.  Friday I drove the daughter and her little dog 15 miles to our veterinarian.  On Saturday, we went to a local German Club to celebrate the wife’s brother’s 80th birthday – a reminder that mine is looming on the horizon.  Sunday was a trip to the downtown park to get Ethiopian food at the Multicultural Festival.

This ‘getting old’ is not for the faint of heart.  I have learned to

GALLIVANT

  1. to wander about, seeking pleasure or diversion; gad.
  2. to go about frivolously and publicly with multiple romantic partners.

This week looks to be just as busy.   We have a chiropractor appointment.  I get a quiet afternoon while the wife gallivants for coffee with her ex-co-worker girlfriend.  We take the daughter with us for our monthly Costco restocking jaunt, and the wife and I hit several stores, including a pet store, for things Costco doesn’t carry.

Next week includes a trip back to a Toronto hospital for a final checkup on the wife’s last year’s abdominal surgery.  The first time, I made the mistake of driving.  We quickly got smart, and subsequent trips were by commuter train.  Easy-Peasy!  A 90-minute train ride to Union Station, and a 5 minute cab ride to the hospital.

On our second trip, we got back to the rail depot, carefully read the electronic schedule, and got on a train listed to go home to “Kitchener.”  Fifteen miles in the wrong direction, a comment made the conductor inform us that we were on the wrong train, despite what the schedule had said.  It wasn’t just us.  Another rider insisted that he too wanted to get to Kitchener, and a third said that he’d seen the same thing occur the week before.  Travelling without purpose – this is where the Gallivanting kicks in.

I’m still hoping to work in a trip to the metro-Toronto IKEA store for an exciting tour of their food court, but we’ve been so busy, we haven’t even had time to do a McDonalds drive-thru.  How about you??  Have you been able to gallivant??  😕

’24 A To Z Challenge – B

Some cultures and languages seem very definite, and sure of themselves – Greek, French, Russian, and Chinese.  Others are not so confident.  I’m Jew-ish.  I’m Engl-ish.  I’m a drunken sot Ir-ish.

None of which has any relationship or reference to this week’s Wonderful Word

BRANDISH

This is not a fluid which thinks that it is kinda, sorta, a spirit distilled from wine or from the fermented juice of grapes or of apples, peaches, plums, etc.  The word is not an adjective.  It is a verb which means

To shake or wave, as a weapon- flourish

The most terrifying weapon to shake, wave or flourish, in the United States of Marshmallow America, has become the video camera, mounted on a supporting staff, wielded by Civil Rights Auditors in public spaces.  They drive cops and security guards nuts, and many of them start barking unlawful orders and restrictions.

After one storm trooper was shown that he was wrong, and the auditor’s actions were protected by the First, Fourth, and Fifth Amendments, he shouted, “Oh yeah??  What if I just took that away from you, and erased it all?”  The cammer calmly replied, “Then you would learn about things like *upload to the cloud*, and live-streaming.  There are about 125 people watching you right now, and you would learn the consequences of attempting to tamper with evidence.”

In the waiting area of another Government office, the security guard insisted that videotaping in that area was absolutely, positively, completely prohibited.  He, and several of the customers loudly objected to being recorded – even after the cammer pointed to the two CCTV cameras in the ceiling.

Why the fuss??  Were they doing something immoral or illegal??  It’s all part of the process by leaders to maintain control of the masses, by polarizing them, and keeping them frightened.  More and more minor things are panicking Americans.

They came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew, so I said nothing.
They came for the Catholics, but I was not Catholic, so I said nothing.
They came for the Gypsies, but I was not a Gypsy, so I said nothing.
Now they have come for me, but there is no-one to say anything.

Don’t let your rights be stolen from you.  Stand up and brandish your citizenship, your Constitution and Bill of Rights, and your determination to be governed, but not Ruled Over.  😦

Off The Straight And Narrow

The wife has been missing fried catfish and biscuits at Cracker Barrel restaurants.  Between COVID and finances, we haven’t been to the Excited States for over five years.  On our Ohio trip to rescue John Erickson from terminal ennui, I scheduled a stop at a Cracker Barrel in Erie PA, at approximately the halfway point, for lunch and a butt-break.

Enjoying one of these little scones is like biting into a tasty, buttery cloud.  We ordered a dozen to take with us, but our waitress only brought two more free ones in a to-go bag.  In the entire trip down, I didn’t make a wrong turn or get lost once…. Unless you count the little kerfuffle/confusion as we arrived.

With ten rescue cats in the house, and as many feral ones begging for food and water at the back door, our hosts’ kitchen is somewhat overwhelmed with bags of kitty litter, sacks of dry kibble, cases of cans of cat food, feeding dishes, and water bowls.  It is not set up to cook food, or provide eating area for guests.  We dined out each evening.

They drove out to meet us, and suggested that we join them at a McDonalds, one exit up the highway.  I misunderstood, and drove right past them to our motel.  No Problem!  They quickly followed us, and the first night we ate at an Arby’s that was unanimously agreed to be a better choice than the Golden Arches.

The next evening, she navigated us to a Mexican restaurant in the big city (? 11,000) named Fiesta Tlaquepaque.  My eyeballs crossed, and my tongue got whiplash.  Bing, Google Translate, and dictionary.com all insist that the name/word is Spanish.  It is used by a certain group of people who speak Spanish – mostly Mexicans.  It is Nahuatl, an Aztec word, which means ‘flowered walkway’ – like a bower – with a tiled floor.

The third night, we drove them down to a Cracker Barrel in Cambridge, Ohio.  John doesn’t remember ever being to one.  He loved the filling, inexpensive, home-style food, and was entranced by the tourist-trap retail maze with clothing, toys, candy, games, jams and jellies, which must be navigated, both coming and going.

I wanted to claim that we didn’t go anywhere, or do anything, but that we all enjoyed ourselves immensely.  I mean, they don’t exactly reside in a cultural center.  The closest thing to a tourist attraction would be the biggest pile of manure, outside the State capital, or the longest Amish beard.

The first afternoon, John’s wife drove my wife to a large fabric/sewing/ knitting warehouse, while John showed me all his WW I/WW II rifles, bayonets and swords, which he has used in historical re-enactments.  I retaliated by showing him some of my excess knives,  and a catalogue of coins and bills of the world.

The next day, she took the wife and I out for a cliff-clinging, nail-biting drive in the country, which ended at an Amish general store.  Their book section included two books about the Ark Encounter theme park in Kentucky.  The little ‘Understanding Islam’ book got tossed on the We Can’t Sell It – A Buck Apiece table.

I scheduled our visit for a Monday and Tuesday.  The nearby craft brewery where I hoped to buy some artisanal beer, is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays.  If we ever elect to do this again – and we’re being strongly propositioned – John assures me that there are several other such breweries within driving distance, which he can send me links to.

Including one serious got lost, on the way home, we traveled 1795 Km/1122 miles, and spent about $210 Canadian, on gas.  We all enjoyed ourselves, and got to know each other much better, and I got four blog-posts out of it.  Thanx for coming along for the ride.  😀

’23 A To Z Challenge – J

Why, you young whipper-snapper….  When I was your age, we didn’t even have electrons, much less electronic communication and entertainment.

I learned to read – and dead-tree reading – from my parents.  My Father read the newspaper, but not books.  My Mother read books, but never the newspaper.  Our home-town newspaper was a little, weekly, 8-page, fly-swatter, full of local gossip.  We subscribed to a little, Mon./Sat, 10-page paper from the county-seat of the next county over, twenty-five miles away.  Without local softball, hockey and curling, it might have shrunk to eight.

I soon found that the most interesting and educational section of it were the comic strips.  This was just after World War II, and just as the Korean War was beginning.  We needed all the humor and smiles that we could get.  I followed the Katzenjammer Kids, Dagwood and Blondie, Bringing Up Father, Gasoline Alley, Joe Palooka, Mandrake the Magician, Little Orphan Annie, and Major Hoople’s Boarding House.  “Mary Worth” was, and 65 years later still is, the print equivalent of later TV soap operas.  Will that woman never die??!

The strip that taught me the most about the World, about society, about politics, about culture, and about religion, was Al Capp’s ‘L’il Abner.  Capp used satire to point out failings.  He mocked the powerful, to the delight of the common people, but he made fun of the common folk through the actions of the hillbillies in his strip.

While much of the action occurred in the unstated metropolis of Dogpatch, Capp sometimes changed things up by having L’il Abner read His favorite comic strip – a big-city, Dick Tracy-like cop named Fearless Fosdick.  He also invented an eastern European country where strange things happened that influenced his characters.  He called it Inner Slobovia.  It, and its residents, were the predecessors of Scott Adams’ Dilbert strip’s Elbonia.

Some of Capp’s ideas and concepts have entered American culture.  The most well-known is “Sadie Hawkins Day,” when it is socially acceptable for females to pursue the males.  Capp had it as Leap Day – Feb. 29th – once every four years.  It has become so popular that some places celebrate it at the end of every February.  Some towns and/or high schools even have Sadie Hawkins Month.

Capp conceived a race of bowling-pin like creatures that he named Shmoos.  They were friendly, lovable, helpful things like kittens.  The wants and needs of Dogpatch residents were fairly simple, but if someone needed something…. Somehow, the shmoos would just provide it.  They were also willing – anxious – to be cooked and eaten.  They were tasty and filling – the ancestors of Star Trek’s food replicators and holodecks.

Capp had fun playing with words and names.  A couple of times, Mammy Yokum had to explain the difference between an apple pie, and her a napple pie.  One story arc told of an oily Yankee carpet-bagger-type, who was pursuing one of the virtuous local gals.  The strip named him as Poole.  She shunned his advances and sent him on his way, telling neighbors that there’s nothing lower than a Poole.

Even as an 8 or 9-year-old, I knew that there was something wrong with that.  Years later I read an article which revealed that Capp had originally named him Sesspoole, but the Comic Strip Governing Board felt that it was too racy, and demanded that it be shortened, ruining the joke.

We’ve already been to the Poole in Slobovia.  ‘Mammy’ Yokum’s real name was Pansy.  ‘Pappy’ was Lucifer Ornamental Yokum.  ‘Fearless’ Fosdick = fuzz-dick = police detective.  His nemesis was Evil-Eye Fleagle.  The famous flyer/aviator, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker visited the strip as Eddie Ricketyback, and the well-known lawyer, F. Lee Bailey became F Lea Bagg.

I close out this post with the J name, made famous by actor/singer ‘Stubby’ Kaye, in the 1959 movie – the beloved Confederate founder of Dogpatch

JUBILATION T. CORNPONE

Old tattered and torn-pone
Old toot your own horn-pone
He’s shattered and shorn-pone

 

A Case Of Fibbing Fridays

I was just walking down the street, minding my own business, (of course, it was 3:00 AM, and in a dodgy neighborhood) when somebody in an alley said, “Psst!”  It was Pensitivity101“Lookin’ to score a theme for a blog-post?  I got some that just ‘fell off the back of a truck.’  You know what I mean?  These ones are Lies My Music Teacher Told Me, about song lyrics.

  1. I’ve got you under…………………………..
    surveillance.  Your windows are covered with newspaper.  Your neighbors report a strange smell from your bathroom vents.  Snow melts off your roof, and the local Utilities supplier says your electricity usage is sky-high.  Speaking of being high, you can expect a visit from the drug squad any minute.
  2.  Hi ho silver……………………………………
    -haired old coot.  Don’t be silly.  You are far too superannuated to try riding horses at your age.  You get winded just playing chess in the park.
  3.  Anyone who had…………………………….
    an attack of Alzheimer’s, or just Old-Age-itis, understands the truth of, ‘The biggest lie we tell ourselves is, “I don’t have to write that down.  I’ll remember it.”  This was the only unfinished prompt on the list.  As I crawled into bed, I had a great idea for a theme, socially significant, yet entertaining and amusing.  When I woke in the morning, the spot was still as empty as my head.  You’ll just have to take my word that I am a brilliant writer.  😳
  4.  Me and You …………………………………
    and a boy named Sioux, are being sued by an Indigenous group for cultural appropriation.
  5.  Hats off ……………………………………….
    to the TSA.  Also, jackets, belts, shoes, shampoo bottles, cell phones, Kindles, tablets, and the last shreds of our dignity.  I am so embarrassed and brow-beaten, I think I’ll just stay home, or maybe just drive to Hawaii.
  6.  Everyone’s gone …………………………..
    completely bonkers with all this Snowflake and Woke bullshit.  Someone called the Department of Highways, and complained about an offensive sign they’d seen on the road.  It read, “Men At Work!!”  Any woman who wanted to fill potholes, in heavy traffic, by shoveling hot asphalt in the middle of August, had just had her hopes dashed.
  7.  Every Man Must ………………………….
    have his day….  No, wait, that’s “Every DOG must have his day.”  Most men aren’t that far up on the marriage evolutionary ladder.  Sit!  Stay!  Yes dear.  Successful shopping, dear.
  8. 8. You’ll never find another ………………

    singer named Dusty Springfield, not since the invention of Swiffer.  Such a singer today would be named Sparkly.
  9.  He ain’t heavy …………………………….
    since he went on this crazy Paleo diet.  It’s really difficult finding pterodactyl wings and fern seeds, even at the Organic Market.
  10.  I’ll meet you at …………………………….
    Fifth and Main, under your mistaken assumption that I might actually show up, after you told me on our first date that we were perfect together, were a ideal couple, and should start making wedding plans.  My friends told me that you were fast.  Apparently I also had a mistaken assumption.

I’ll be back to spewing my usual lies and exaggerations on Monday.  Be sure to stop by.  Tell a friend (or an enemy).  Bring poutine.  😉