Assumption:
(a) Cafe racers s*ck. This is America, not Europe. Remember -- Dwight Eisenhauer and his vaunted interstate highway system? Do any of us want to ride for days in a way that points our rear ends up towards the planet Pluto? That knocks out Jesse James and OCC.
(b) If it is not even close to street legal -- it is a toy, not a motorcycle, No headlight? No tail light? That knocks out OCC. Again. Bonus points to Gas Monky for riding their machine all the way in. They did get written up for a vertical license plate. (And had to see an audiologist for tinnitus.) But, at least they had one.
(c) Steepo stubby front ends bl*w. If you want to build a dirt racer -- fine, just stay off the street with that fork that looks like it got stoved in from a curb. Or do you wanna visit Speed Wobbel (sic) City? Just after After Deadmans Curve? And watch all our insurance rates go up? That knocks out Jesse James. Again.
(d) A deadline is a deadline. Note the use of the word "dead". Jesse James was not done. And OCC used a producer-wimp-out-deadline extension to do more work on their bike. That is almost as wimpy as JJ's perpetual whining about anything and EVERYTHING. They are both knocked out, yet again.
(e) This competition is supposed to be the Ne Plus Ultra.in Gearheadom. Gas Monky's theme of original vintage is the right direction -- but they needed to step up their game. Like about 40 stories, ya think. The ideal hot rod retro ride would have had a 1963 (only year with twin external oilers) Panhead engine stuffed into a VL frame, with XA springer front end , and a Baker 6 speed into four tranny . Plus a dual carb conversion would have been nice. I like what they did do. But for this contest they could not get the quick rebuild-and-flip mentality out of their mind. The result is just not trick or sick enough.
(f) Points off to Paul Jr.'s for annoying fakery. The four exhaust pipes pipes assume a four cylinder engine. Not a mere twin. Why not use all that engineering capability to build an inline Four with Milwaukee-vintage jugs and heads. I know just the shop across town that could water-jet and CNC-whittle the crankcase out of billet. Oops. I forgot. You are not on speaking terms.
My Winner? Paul Jr's. Kind of by default. Its styling is a love it or hate it proposition. If they had used an inline four cylinder engine it would have been a home run.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
A: Grover Norquist
Q: Who is the evil Muppet illegitimately spawned by Ebenezer Scrooge and Leona Helmsley?
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Truly lame and pathetic
What is the previous post? haha
Bean licker vs. lien bicker
What is a legume oralist vs a debt argument?
Friday, November 23, 2012
Carleton Fisk, Cal Worthington and Jimmy Cliff
Who is suing Congress and the news media for defamation?
Twinkies, Pluto and Paula Broadwell
Who just got inducted into the the Has-Been Hall of fame?
Lloyd Blankshoot
Who just took over at Goldman Sucks?
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Kool-aid
What did the Tea Party drink too much of?
Friday, November 9, 2012
A: Facetious
Q: What did the Timur Ruby call the Hope Diamond?
A: They all got stoned
Q: What happened to the immigrants unwelcome in Colorado?
Friday, November 2, 2012
A: My heart goes out to you
Q: What did the transplant donor say to the recipient?
Thursday, October 11, 2012
This just in
1. Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead.
2. Dan Quayle is still no Jack Kennedy.
2. Dan Quayle is still no Jack Kennedy.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
A: Constitutional
Q: What kind of daily walk did the Founding Fathers take?
Monday, September 17, 2012
A: Groupon Poupon coupon
Q. How do you score the best deal on dijon mustard?
Friday, August 31, 2012
A: Abyss-mal
Q: How does a chasm feel in the midst of the flu?
A: Channeling Ronald Reagan
Q: What was Clint Eastwood doing last night?
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Webinar
What do you call a frog,duck and spider convention?
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Aleppo
Who is the Marx's brothers long lost Syrian rebel cousin?
Monday, July 30, 2012
Aggregate
What's the scandal that rocked the concrete industry?
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Chippendale
What furniture is made by cute small rodents?
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
The Buick stops here
What'd you proclaim when your Roadmaster crashed into a brick wall?
It was The Bain of my existence
What is Mitt Romney muttering to himself ?
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
The Oval Office
What place has no corners to cower in fear?
Wheelock College
Where was the Denver Boot actually invented?
Saturday, July 7, 2012
The Higgs Bozo
Who's the clown particle really in charge of this sorry universe?
Conway Twitty
With a name like that -- who has to be a good singer?
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Cliff Notes
After all the tax cuts expire, what will be our new national anthem?
The Car-dashians
What family made millions on walnut burls for Bentleys?
Saturday, June 30, 2012
What Letterman's Top Ten overlooked last night...
Spiderman suffers from Arachnophobia
Goofy is developmentally delayed
Mr. Magoo cheated on his driver’s license test
Gladstone Gander wears a toupee
Donald Duck is going to a speech therapist and anger manager
Rocky takes ginger for motion sickness
Black Pete once failed to make it as a Werewolfe
Batman has tinnitus
Rat Fink daylights as a kindergarten crossing guard
(drum roll)
Bugs Bunny is now in assisted living due to Hypervitaminosis A
A dummy weighs in on Obamacare
Okay so I heard some judge somewhere has just ruled that Obamacare is not unconstitutional. Because it is a tax.
And of course Congress has the right to tax. Anything and anybody. Including doing nothing at all. Including existing. I guess a tax on the miniscule warp in space time around one’s body mass will be next down the pike..
But gee -- I also heard there is a law called the Anti-Injunction Act. It prohibits a tax increase from being disputed legally until the tax is actually levied. I mean -- duh -- that would be like asking for an audit on next years next income tax. Or an abatement on your real estate tax in, say 2024.
And because the “individual mandate” of Obamacare doesn’t kick in until 2014, no one has actually paid the penalty yet.
So the only way this judge could take this case was if the question was not about any tax. If the penalty was a penalty. And stayed that way.
But niewww... then he rules the penalty is a tax. But it hasn’t been paid by anyone. And remember this "tax" (formerly penalty) cannot be disputed. Which means he can not rule on it yet.
Um this vaguely sounds like a dog chasing his tail. Or sawing off the tree limb you are sitting on. I think they call it a circular argument.
Of course I am not surprised that some lowly hack district Federal judge would come out with such a preposterous tortured piece of illogic and garbage jurisprudence.
Surely saner heads will prevail.
This whole mess will get appealed all the way to the Supreme Court ….
and THEY will get it right. Sure.
Just like they ruled the Bill of Rights applies to corporations.
He came up short
Why did Katie Holmes file for divorce?
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Anne Curry
Who is apparently going back to spicy Far East cuisine?
Marooned!
What'd you say when you were shipwrecked with bottle of burgundy and a bolt of funeral bunting?
The London Whale
What swamped Jamie Dimon's' dingy?
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Top ten reasons to be cell phone adverse
10. Walking’s better exercise than calling a tow truck
9. Your mother-in-law has you on speed dial
8. EMP from a terrorist nuke could happen at any time now
7. Using semaphores helps build your upper body
6. Texting is more fun using alphabet soup
5. Mental telepathy does not drop calls
4. At least your hottie can’t dump you via SMS
3. Your parole office can’t track you
2. QR codes are soo mysterious. Why spoil that? and
(drum roll)
1. Smoke signaling is very retro kool.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Contempt of Congress
Given the recent 17% approval rating by the public, what are most of us guilty of -- along with Eric Holder?
Monday, June 18, 2012
Bank of brinkruptcy
What did the dyslexic say was his perilous financial situation?
Dunkin Dounts
What is the breakfast of basketball stars?
Sunday, June 17, 2012
The drug companies say, “What took you so long?”
Okay so the news media is rife with reports over the weekend that (gasp) our kids are snorting ground up attention deficit drugs to score better on college placement tests. I mean I guess these new pharmaceutical marvels give you laser like focus, boundless mental energy -- and the ability to expound at length on any obtuse arcane obscure subject the test might have conjured up. Of course you do have to remember to turn the page in the exam book on your own. A twenty thousand word answer written on one page is kinda tough on the examiners' eyeballs.
But whatever -- I say kudos to this generation. I mean we used to abuse substances to just generally mess up minds, ruin our futures, screw with our parents’ heads and set new standards for low productivity.
But now you get high to achieve better grades and get into the Mathematics Institute or Law School of your choice. How cool is that.
And of course the drug companies are saying to themselves, “Hey kids it's about time . I mean we named the drugs for suggested abuses – you know…
Adder-all and Writ-alin… “
But whatever -- I say kudos to this generation. I mean we used to abuse substances to just generally mess up minds, ruin our futures, screw with our parents’ heads and set new standards for low productivity.
But now you get high to achieve better grades and get into the Mathematics Institute or Law School of your choice. How cool is that.
And of course the drug companies are saying to themselves, “Hey kids it's about time . I mean we named the drugs for suggested abuses – you know…
Adder-all and Writ-alin… “
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Timothy Geithner
Who's the token Vulcan in the Obama Administration?
Nokia
What'd you say when they stole your Korean car?
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Thank you Al Gore...
Don’t worry about that bump you felt last night. It wasn’t a fault slipping or a Slauson getting cut off. Turns out the inventor of the internet – you know, Al Gore – was back hard at work. I guess his Powerpoint Therapy wasn’t enough to deal with the theft of his Presidency by Dubya and the US Supreme Court.
Al, I take it, has been was worried the internet was running out of addresses. Even though it had more than Heidi’s Fleiss’s little black book. I mean, that is like Zeus running out of sand grains for Zuma Beach.
But -- it seems like 4.3 billion of ‘em wasn’t enough.
So Al did a great job of channeling that other mad scientist inventor named Al – you know, Al Einstein – and came up with a new number. Hold onto your hats -- it’s now 340 undecillion . That’s 340 trillion trillion trillion. Pretty big number. I mean the only thing bigger is the value of Facebook on the stock market. Oh excuse me – that was 20 minutes ago. Not now.
Any way - so now every quark in the universe can have its own individual account on Facebook.
And its gonna need them all to make its earnings next quarter.
200 day moving average
What was the result of the slow-down strike at Allied Van Lines?
Lake Pontchartrain
Where do railroad cars go to get ready for their title fight?
Little Zeus Coupe
What's the favorite car in God's garage?
Monday, June 4, 2012
Thingama-jig
What's the latest gearhead dance craze -- and Obama's economic recovery strategy?
Friday, June 1, 2012
Dr. Pepper
Name a 16 ounce soda and the owner of the obesity clinic it will put you in.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Top ten reasons to fire your financial advisor
He’s grown his hair into a mullet do like John Corzine and Bernie Madoff
He wants you to invest in the IPO of a social networking outfit called FacePlant
You found out he’s the illegitimate son of the Bombastic Bushkin
Insider trading for Raj Rajratnam headlines his resume
He has squirreled away Greek Drachmas in hopes of a comeback
It was on his advice the Fed minted the Sacagawea dollar
He thinks security analyst-speak “POS” means “point of sale”
He claims cotango is a new dance craze sweeping the nation
He was the cost control executive of Boston’s Big Dig
(drum roll...)
He tells you Ponzi was just a co-star on Happy Days
A sudden squall, some hot sauce and the Facebook IPO
Name a chubasco, tabasco and a total fisaco
The Push Broom
What'd the dummy think was a dance craze sweeping the nation?
Three dog knight
What'd they call Sir Lancelot after he adopted chihuahua triplets?
Friday, May 25, 2012
Clash of Titans
What's the new drink for seniors made from vodka, prune juice and kaopectate.
Trigger happy
Describe Roy Roger's stallion in a field of 40 foxy fillies.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
So how broke is California, Johnny?
California’s so broke LAX converted the Goodyear blimp into a turnstile tollboth for jumbo jets..
California’s so broke they made the lottery payoff in sand dollars, wooden nickels and steel pennies.
California’s so broke Governor Schwarnegger moonlights on talks shows for minimum union scale.
California’s so broke Sacremento sold its name rights to a tomato juice canner.
California’s so broke statehouse dinners are now catered by the NBC Commissary.
California’s so broke the Highway Department cut off its Slauson and sold it for scrap.
California’s so broke the Motion Picture Academy sold out to Ding Dong School.
California’s so broke the only Nutrition Spokesperson we can afford is Gumby.
California’s so broke we sold the Mulholland Highway back to the Dutch.
California’s so broke we now charge admission to the Harbor Freeway as a thrill ride.
California’s so broke they replaced San Onofre with a farm of crazed-gerbil generators.
California’s so broke the economy sucks more than the baleen whale that went berserk at Sea World.
California’s so broke they renamed Million Dollar Road, Penny Lane.
California’s so broke the State Treasurer is channeling Jack Benny.
California’s so broke Don Rickles won’t even stoop to insult it.
California’s so broke they say it is all San Andreas’s Fault
Braniff
What airline still serves healthy breakfast cereal?
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
So how windy is it, Johnny?
It’s so windy my whirlygig went supersonic
It’s so windy the new Boeing Dreamliner took off from LAX…backwards
It’s so windy Alice Kramden zoomed to the moon ..on her own
It’s so windy Mt Baldy got its toupee blown off
It’s so windy a tumbleweed did a smash and dash on a 7-11 in Pacoima
It’s so windy you can actually see across the street in Pasadena
It’s so windy my umbrella got twisted and tortured into Desmond’s tutu
It’s so windy a wet noodle impaled itself in the bronze bust of General MacArthur
It’s so windy my aeolian pipe organ is playing on its own.
Lime disease
What makes you crave to suck on tree fertilizer stakes?
Lime disease
What'd the botanist say was turning the oranges green?
FaceBookLet
What's the new name of the famed social network after its fiasco going public?
TwoFacedBook
What's the new social networking site for duplicitous investment bankers?
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
So how hot is it Johnny?
It’s so hot my pet cockatiel got roasted into chicken fricasee
It’s so hot my fish pond cooked the carp into boiled schrod
It’s so hot they brought San Onofre back on line just to run my Kelvinator
It’s so hot Cool hand Luke gave me a Indian burn out behind the NBC dumpster
It’s so hot an overturned truckload of crayola made the 405 Freeway into a pool of paisley puce
It’s so hot they’re renacting the race riots to cool down Watts
It’s so hot Mitt Romney’s dog is begging for a breezy roof rack ride to Maine
It’s so hot the Airforce enlisted hordes of hummingbirds to cool their jets
It’s so hot Barack Obama is eating weiner dog in rolls for lunch
It’s so hot the Tujunga Wash had to send out for dry cleaning
It’s so hot the California Aqueduct is impersonating the River Styxx
Friday, May 11, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
La Sorbonne
What's French for a real pain in the a**?
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Bugg-ota
According to an airhead CBS Saturday announcer, what’s the capital of Colombia?
Goulash
What do you call a risen-from-the-dead deciduous tree?
Excoriated
How did the half-eaten censured apple feel?
Pairamedic
Who bewailed, “I am simply beside myself?”
Spiking the football
What'd they accused the wino wide receiver of doing?
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Sinko de Mayo
What 'd you get when your jar of MiracleWhip fell off the kitchen shelf?
Cellphone
How does one mitochondria talk to another?
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Ubuntu
What did one baseball lead-off hitter ask the other?
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Welcome back Cotter
What did the castellated nut say to its retainer? (gearhead joke)
Jurisprudence
What's neither jury-worthy nor prudent?
Stalker chick
Who's the SpokesPsycho for the celery industry?
You're just so much chopped liver
What did the organ meat say to the sweetbread?
Monday, April 30, 2012
Chili con collie
Whats the centerpiece of a SE Asian barbeque?
Bogota
Where did they invent the buy one get one free concept?
Well this dog won't hunt
What did the Donner Party say over one of their last meals?
Pluto Platter
What's the latest new dinner entree in Indonesia?
Rack of dog
What did Mitt Romney transport to Maine and Barack Obama eat eat for lunch?
Friday, April 20, 2012
Dis-aster
What happened when the lawn mower ran amuck in a field of wild flowering Asteraceae? (botanist joke)
Suffern
What's a town in NewYork state, not a state of distressed mind?
Hungary
What's a Euro member, not a state of distressed stomach?
Balderdash
What's a road race for the follicle-challenged?
Synecdoche
What's the figure of speech that thinks it's a city in upstate New York?
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Equal footing
What constitutes a rip in your right sox and a hole in your left shoe? [Thanks milady....]
Fun guy
What do you call an entertaining mycologist?
Friday, April 13, 2012
Bebe Reboso
What's a cross between a pellet gun and a come-back clown?
Bottle nosed dolphin
What's the cetacean answer to hammerhead shark?
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Staten Island
Where was cholesterol control invented?
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Burbn
What are the founders of Instagram tossing down shots of, to celebrate? (investor-only joke)
Ruby Keeler, Amber Tamlyn, Minnie Pearl, Beryl Reid and Crystal Gale
Who stars in "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend - Not!" ?
Algorithim
What's the new Internet-Inventor dance craze?
Congressional Record
What'd you put on that old turntable when you want to hear Alvin and the Chipmunks?
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
The Sunglass Rant
Okay I just staggered sun-blind, retinally exhausted and desperate into Eddie Lambert’s financial folly. Also known as Sears. You know, what cattle muscle does when it encounters a hot gas grille. Just a nanoseconds before it converts into rank carboniferous carcinogen.
Just finished two weeks of tax hell in which the software went to new heights of creativity and artificial intelligence. Namely, an $8000 mistake against me. Which I somehow snagged. I guess there was a reason I suffered glacial epochs of doing that penance manually. I know the forms. I know when one has been tortured the wrong way (translation: against me) by hapless ones and zeroes run amuck.
But I digress. Anyway..I made the stupid mistake of facetiously saying, my kingdom for a new pair of shades. They apparently took me at my world. Because there -- seemingly levitating in suitably sartorial splendor over the display case -- was a nice thin rimmed set, polarized and all, for only….
$360.00 . Plus tax.
(Yes I know “sartorial” has to do with clothes, not eyewear. Content is always fodder for alliteration in my book.)
I say “seemingly” because for that tidy sum of just a few sheckels short of four Ben Franklins ….they should defied gravity, split the atom, fused deuterium and paid down (not “off”, mind you) the balance on my ex-es Maxxinista lay-away.
I mean, I am all for ultra-dark privacy glasses that will render you functionally sightless everywhere save the warm side of Mercury. That give you the aura of Jackie O, the charisma of ZZ-Top and the eye-chart reading capability of Mr. Magoo. You know, they are just the oh-so-koolest fashion accessory for texting while you are tooling and darting at rush hour among the 29 lanes of the Harbor Freeway at the speed of Art Arfon’s Green Monster.
(Don’t cha love the right click instant search in Chrome?)
No this rant is not over. But my attention span is…How bout those Red Sox….
Monday, April 9, 2012
The Drudge Report
What do you endearingly call your latest tax return?
Bantam of the Opera
What's the new musical starring a small chicken?
Desperately Seeking Real Last Names
What's the Art Fern Teatime Movie starring Ron Paul, Rick Perry, Elton John & Clark Kent?
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Jay North, Ann Southern, Mae West and Sheena Easton
Who stars in the Art Fern TeaTime move, "My Compass Just went Cuckoo"?
Nicotine patch
What'd the tobacconist call his victory garden?
Wooden nickel
What American currency bears the image of Alan Greenspan?
Donkey Kong
What happened after Mighty Joe Young visited Ruffian in her stable?
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Over under sideways down
What'd the drunken sailor think was the shift pattern on his Harley?
Dogmatic
What's the transmission used on the Rover 3000?
String bikini
What'd the astrophysicist hottie wear?
Rutabagel
What do you get when you cross a turnip with a breadstuff?
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Starvation
What's the loser win in the Hunger Games?
Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder
What is the highbrow translation of "liquor's quicker?"
The difference between paper and pauper is "u"
What did the News of the World say to Rupert Murdoch just before he folded it?
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Shape Shifter
What costume did Mitt Romney wear last Halloween?
Kaleidoscope
What is the prescription for Mitt Romney's eyeglasses?
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Faith Hope and Charity
What tax deductions are up for review under the Ryan Budget Plan?
Green slime
What is the adulterant in veggie burgers?
A hook, a line and a sinker
Name two pieces of fishing gear and Mitt Romney.
Pootang
What do you get when you cross breed a poodle with an orangutan?
Ouija Board
What's the new name of the Federal Open Market Committee?
Boozer
Name the new dog breed that's part boxer, poodle and schnauzer.
Sea biscuit
What'd you bake after the salt shaker fell in your muffin mix?
Brillo pad
What's a wire haired terrier cough up as a hairball?
Etch-a-Sketch
What'd the drunken sailor think was GPS?
Etch-a-Sketch
Who did Picasso sue for patent infringement?
Tom Daschle
What’s the new pet that’s a cross between a male cat, a daschund and a beagle?
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Scrub-A Dub
What was the last stop on the Seamus-the-Dog Horror Tour?
Seamus the Dog
Who got adopted by the MIT WindTunnel as their mascot?
Friday, March 16, 2012
Making every minute count
Whats does the time despot force his minions to do?
Astro-naught
What's the last number in countdown to blastoff?
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Necker Island
Where did submarines races originate?
Bad fruit’s An Artist – It Draws Flies
What’s the Art Fern TeaTime Movie starring Zazu Pitts, Chuck Berry, Johnny Appleseed, Stone Phillips and “Kernel” Sanders?
Scandinavian!
What did you cry out when a finch flew into your Flextight? (Inside fotog joke)
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Vegan Nightmare
What's the new TeaTime movie starring Eddie Rabbit, Beefsteak Charlie, Tom Turkey and Chicken Little?
Wiener schnitzel
What's a cross between a weimaraner, a schnautzer and a poodle?
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Mideast commentary...
Okay now we know . Turns out the Iranians have been enriching uranium …for a nuclear powered metal detector. They sold it to a group of guys from Albany last week.
Now these Albanians know about as much about world oceans as the ‘Driver’ of that cruise ship that turned turtle and gave Tuscany a bad name. Call him Captain? No way. Not even “Minnie” I mean he could have at least thrown Diane Lane a life-preserver. Ya think?
Anyway, Landlubber Gang somehow doggie paddled their waterlogged way to a discovery of a little bit of sunken platinum... just a whole freighter load…just off of the coast of Cape Cod….just worth about $50 trillion.
I mean there were so many rare coins strewn off Sankaty Light that dolphins were grounding themselves in a vain attempt to get to Foxwoods. They couldn’t make it because their suitcases were laden with too much of the metal.
But now poor platinum is gonna get the Pluto treatment. You know -- the planet that got demoted to Mickey’s dog? There’ll be so much of the stuff on the market its status as a precious metal is toast. People will line their bird cage floors with platinum foil. The Olympics will award Platinum Medals to the last place finishers. The market value of Platinum ingots will plummet like a homesick worm. People will try to trade them for Greek drachmas, S&H Green stamps and Sacagawea dollars.
But not to worry. Here’s the punch line. They will be seized and used to pay off the US national debt. And the government will then put up a pure platinum satellite. The size of Jupiter.
Called Platnik.
Now these Albanians know about as much about world oceans as the ‘Driver’ of that cruise ship that turned turtle and gave Tuscany a bad name. Call him Captain? No way. Not even “Minnie” I mean he could have at least thrown Diane Lane a life-preserver. Ya think?
Anyway, Landlubber Gang somehow doggie paddled their waterlogged way to a discovery of a little bit of sunken platinum... just a whole freighter load…just off of the coast of Cape Cod….just worth about $50 trillion.
I mean there were so many rare coins strewn off Sankaty Light that dolphins were grounding themselves in a vain attempt to get to Foxwoods. They couldn’t make it because their suitcases were laden with too much of the metal.
But now poor platinum is gonna get the Pluto treatment. You know -- the planet that got demoted to Mickey’s dog? There’ll be so much of the stuff on the market its status as a precious metal is toast. People will line their bird cage floors with platinum foil. The Olympics will award Platinum Medals to the last place finishers. The market value of Platinum ingots will plummet like a homesick worm. People will try to trade them for Greek drachmas, S&H Green stamps and Sacagawea dollars.
But not to worry. Here’s the punch line. They will be seized and used to pay off the US national debt. And the government will then put up a pure platinum satellite. The size of Jupiter.
Called Platnik.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Digestion is the better part of velour
What did one moth larva say to the other?
The bald TV shrink
Who makes Punxsutawney Phil look like Einstein?
Dumbo the elephant
What is " When pigs fly" kicked up a notch?
Hooverville
Where do old vacuum cleaners go to die?
Paul Bunion
Who's the famed lumberjack with foot problems?
Friday, March 2, 2012
The In-Tunes
Whats the new rock group featuring DeeDee Sharp, Rascal Flatts and Tommy Tutone?
Doppler Shift
What do you get when you cross a shape shifter with a doppelganger?
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Plant Parenthood
What's the latest TeaTime Movie starring Art Fern, Lily Tomlin, Dick Grasso, Richard Roundtree, Herb Score, George Bush, and Sterling Moss?
Too much thyme on his hands
How did they bag the herb thief?
Danny and the Seniors
Who sings At the Hop in heaven? ( Daniel Joseph "Danny" Rapp May 9, 1941 – April 5, 1983)
The Kevlars
What's the Motown girl group from Baghdad?
Cry me a river
What floods every spring in the Ukraine?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Poor white trash
How do you sympathize with a titanium dioxide dump?
Reformatory
Where did the errant play dough get sent away to?
Airodoodle
What do you get when you cross a poodle with a flying squirrel?
Monday, February 27, 2012
Vote with their feet
How does the Podiatrist Society conduct its annual election?
Tin hat dictator
Who rules the junkyard with an iron hand?
Gallup, Barber, Red, May and John Paul II
Name five poles [sic]...
Rhyme, No Reason
What is the latest Art Fern Teatime Movie starring....
Michael Caine,
Diane Lane,
Harold Raines,
Carol Wayne,
Bob Crane,
Lois Lane,
Herman Cain,
Thomas Paine and
Baby Jayne
Concentration camp
What do Temple oranges call the Tropicana factory?
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Problematic
What is the auto transmission in a Yugo?
The Cancellation
What was the name of the last, never-flown Space Shuttle?
Geriatric
Who is the older brother of Gerrymander?
Friday, February 24, 2012
Slaughter of innocents
What's the new contamination in Syrian bread?
Cotango
What's the dance craze sweeping the commodities futures pits?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Stop needling me
What do you say to that annoying verbose pine tree?
Monday, February 20, 2012
Pine, bark, mulch
What does a lonely gardener dog do?
Downturn, Shabbey
Whats the new PBS series about the fall of Lehman Brothers?
Friday, February 17, 2012
Lady Guava
What is the Portuguese answer to Madonna?
Quadridextrous
What do you call someone who is good at four-play?
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Downton Abbey
What's a prime example of a retro British chick flick?
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Long ago, but nearby….
So, this is the abjectly egregiously untrue story of Smart Aleck. A writer. A creative type. Oh sure. Just like Wall Street accounting. Smart was a peculiar jumbalaya of cowboy, bad boy, flyboy, luddite, preppie, ex-biker, gearhead and geek. Think, low rent, frayed edge Hunter S. Thompson wannabe. With a dash of Tom Wolfe thrown in. Part pistol-less Wyatt Earpe? Sure. Because Smart had reputedly dated a certain pole dancer half his age. Who halved his bank account. How appropriate. Fortunately the smallest of several.
Smart’s specialty was quixotic projects. That’s a whole ‘nother yarn. Maybe enough for a sweater. Later perhaps.
But his main stock to trade? Oh, Smart blogged. He penned pathetic puns. Pop culture prattlings. Annoying anecdotes. Ridiculous rambling rants. Oh, and let us not forget…motorcycle tech tips. You see although Smart’s linguistic intellect verged on heavily flawed brilliance, he had just one tiny occupational flaw. As far as wordsmithing went, Smart had the attention span of a red squirrel. Anything beyond 3000 words and his eyes glazed over and the flow of verbiage turned to driven slush and then froze. No Great American Novel was looming in his future.
Smart’s workaround? He targeted markets that used (and in some rare cases actually paid for) short pieces of literary work. Motorsport magazines. One page advertising. Short stories. And he churned out how-to’s by the bushelful. Chop your Harley. Preserve your parsley. Paint in paisley.
But like us all -- Smart had to eat. No “starving artiste” he. And, not much money in the foregoing. So henceforth he perpetrated an outrageous fraud on an entire industry. He became a “marketing communication specialist”. For a computer company.
Which one? It will be remain blissfully nameless. Let us just say it was the quintessential Peck’s Bad Boy - PBB. In a brash, no-holds-barred competitive realm where the cut throats and back stabbers were the nice guys. And PBB did little to dispel the image. Headquartered in the liberal state of Massesclueless, it housed itself in a rambling, non-descript, low ceilinged cheaply built warren of dinky doorless cubicles and smokey conference rooms and murky labs. The place spread itself over literally acres. The halls were so long, on hot humid days, interior smog could easily be discerned.
Smart’s specialty was quixotic projects. That’s a whole ‘nother yarn. Maybe enough for a sweater. Later perhaps.
But his main stock to trade? Oh, Smart blogged. He penned pathetic puns. Pop culture prattlings. Annoying anecdotes. Ridiculous rambling rants. Oh, and let us not forget…motorcycle tech tips. You see although Smart’s linguistic intellect verged on heavily flawed brilliance, he had just one tiny occupational flaw. As far as wordsmithing went, Smart had the attention span of a red squirrel. Anything beyond 3000 words and his eyes glazed over and the flow of verbiage turned to driven slush and then froze. No Great American Novel was looming in his future.
Smart’s workaround? He targeted markets that used (and in some rare cases actually paid for) short pieces of literary work. Motorsport magazines. One page advertising. Short stories. And he churned out how-to’s by the bushelful. Chop your Harley. Preserve your parsley. Paint in paisley.
But like us all -- Smart had to eat. No “starving artiste” he. And, not much money in the foregoing. So henceforth he perpetrated an outrageous fraud on an entire industry. He became a “marketing communication specialist”. For a computer company.
Which one? It will be remain blissfully nameless. Let us just say it was the quintessential Peck’s Bad Boy - PBB. In a brash, no-holds-barred competitive realm where the cut throats and back stabbers were the nice guys. And PBB did little to dispel the image. Headquartered in the liberal state of Massesclueless, it housed itself in a rambling, non-descript, low ceilinged cheaply built warren of dinky doorless cubicles and smokey conference rooms and murky labs. The place spread itself over literally acres. The halls were so long, on hot humid days, interior smog could easily be discerned.
PBB was, for a few shining years, a money-mining juggernaut that rivaled the robber barons of a century before. It treated non-executive employees badly but paid them very well. There were no paucity of prospects willing to sell their soul to this digital devil. It is ironic that the very computing architect schema that sky-rocketed PBB into orbit later lasered it down from the sky. Another tale for another time. Perhaps.
Early on, PBB changed its name to something ostensibly meaningless like Dartha Gerbil. Quite unknowingly appropriate. Vaguely malevolent. With the focus and attention span of a red squirrel (love that cut and paste). For PBB was poster child of corporate ADHD run amuck. Quixotic, wild eyed, megalomanic and grandiose schemes, projects and initiatives roiled over each each other in a seething foaming sea of intrigue, skulduggery and underhanded competition. The nastiest competitors for any given world-beating-mousetrap were not the competition down the highway, but the crackpots in the next building.
The cofounders were the strangest frick and frack imaginable. Each monstrously rich of course. And diametric opposites. One was a wirehaired, weird wizard engineer who walked around with vacant wild-eyed look. Not unlike the result of near electrocution. No doubt ruminating about new obscure revolutionary Von Neumann computing concepts. At the expense of any scintilla of social graces. It was said that those who could emulate One’s vacant stare to best effect, rose all the quicker through the seamy roiled ranks of rats in PBB’s dingy stable.
Unknown to him, he carried the below-radar moniker Senyor Sonny. A curious reflection of both derision and grudging admiration. His soft spoken air belied a venal sociopathic sadistic streak. His idea of fun was to order the surreptitious towing of employee cars -- parked at the company lot in a manner not suited to his taste. Eventually he towed someone not in total obsequious genuflecting awe and got served with a Summons for Criminal Complaint. Peels of hysterical laughter were heard from an adjoining front office in exec row that afternoon.
The source of the laughter? Well that was Two. Two was the sales guru. Tall and handsome and good looking as One was strange. He sported a Mullet hairdo in the best tradition of Bernie Madoff and John Corzine. His ersatz patrician air was betrayed by a foul mouth, a randy wayward eye towards females and a heart of cold driven slush. He honed his craft of persuasion by practicing serial philandery on the many attractive woman targets under his employ. Subtlety was not a strong suit. How would just call them up at their office from his pool-side cabana at home and summon them for services. His idea of motivating the sales force was to hurl an antique spear the entire length of the front office conference room and embed it in the far wall. “That is what will happen to you if you fail to make your numbers!” Drywall contractors were called in regularly.
PBB baptized its fledgling product with a Latin and astronomical name that implied bright and new. They lucked out except in France where the name in translation meant more-or-less “it doesn’t work”. It was to be the last and only reasonably good nomenclature they conducted. The follow-on product was dubbed something ostensibly sexy from the heaven sphere. But it equated with being plunged into darkness. After that PBB degenerated its labeling into the hackneyed letter-number soup of its competitors. Years later they adopted the safety-first Corfam philosophy of Dupont. Names that that sounded vaguely good but in actuality meant nothing at all.
In the early days of PBB, a foolish west coast firm had made the mistake of offering a plug compatible knock off of PPB’s main product. And soon after, the HQ of that hapless victim entity did in fact go up in smoke and burn to the ground. (How’s that for a tautology?) Rumors persisted that PBB execs had contracted for the firebombing of this competitor. A grand jury was convened to look into arson charges.
As reward, one alleged lower-level henchman was assured a perpetual role on the PPB dole. So the story went. In a position that required no means of visible intellectual support. He was Smart’s boss. Manager of Marketing Communications. The term Emcee seemed to apply. He did little to dispel the rumors of his smokey past
Emcee’s rendition of the Vacant Stare was a smirk unchanging as any result from too much botox. – as though he was thinking about some inside joke to himself. Emcee’s idea of fun was to run for congress more-or-lesson PBB’s nickel. He lost. Or try to patent voice stress analyzing software. Sort of an illegal wiretap and lie detector combined. Patent denied. Or, assemble a staff of the weirdest wildest most out of control kooks he could find in an already screw loose corporate culture. In that endeavor, he succeeded beyond his fondest dream.
One of his stratagems to that end? Show around a cool color personality analyzer program. You rated ten colors in order and out popped a personality profile. Anonymous of course. Everyone took it. Good innocent fun. No one realized, anonymous, not. Emcee was secretly monitoring and parsing and sorting the result for the most crackpot intellects.
Now -- thanks to a healthy streak of a paranoia -- Smart Aleck got it. He knew what was going on. So he gamed the system. He methodically rated colors according to their grey scale value. Then he took the test again and inverted the grey scale values. The results were diametrically opposed and totally off the scale at each end. Emcee saw that one clever, devious and suspicious person had (a) figured out what was going on and (b) then gamed his program to defeat it. I want that man for my team, he must have thought. Smart Aleck had a job.
So under Emcee, a drove of devilish, dangerous, demented denizens assembled to his specifications toiled in relative obscurity. For this was technology company, not Proctor and Gamble. Marketing was not exactly its stock in trade. Marketing was a mere overhead. An expensive superfluous afterthought annoyance of sort, thought many. And Marketing Communication compounded even that. It was overhead on top of overhead. Accordingly, “Marcom” was partitioned off in a dark dank interior space fit for mushrooms. Such interior space was normally occupied by computers in labs. No windows. Even lowly Marketing types cold at least see outside light. Not so Marcom. One had to pass through several doors to achieve that.
Foremost among these troglodytes under the helm of Emcee was the sole female. Georgina Javelin, or GeeGeeJay for short.
With GeeJay, what you saw was most definitely not what you got. Her work attire was demure text book prep. She sported the penny loafers, mannish button down blouse and nondescript featureless (tautology rears its ugly head yet again) navy blue skirt considered de riguer uniform on many an pre-ivy league campus. She was pretty the way the Blue Bonnet Lady or a Kewpie doll is pretty. She had a crisp soft spoken voice. With s’s that hissed seductively . There was a strong streak of goody two shoes in her superficial demeanor. She was a very good little actress when it counted.
But, the real GGJ? Think, verdant and teeming tropical rain forest of complexity and subtlety and mystery and perversity and contradiction. GGJ teleported the concept of work hard, play hard, into the eleventh dimension. Her mind could be a strange and bizaare bazaar to those very very few who really knew her.. Pathos, aggression, comedy, vulnerability, strength, coyness, pathological mendacity – they were all in the mix. Modeling this coy and clever and confused creature’s cerebral process was a task beyond any known computational system. Then, now or far into the future.
In short, she was out there. Somewhere far beyond the pale.
GGJ’s home apartment was rendered in a hippie-crash-pad design theme. Her coffee table was a painted empty telephone cable spool. Her idea of a bed frame? The floor. She drove a Chevy Chevette with a cranky clutch and a ripped headliner. Her LP records were badly scratched.
You guessed it. Smart Aleck and GGJ were to become a match made in..purgatory. Replete with major league vice, folly, innuendo, imagery and psychopharmacology.
To be continued..perhaps..you know the AD thing…
The cofounders were the strangest frick and frack imaginable. Each monstrously rich of course. And diametric opposites. One was a wirehaired, weird wizard engineer who walked around with vacant wild-eyed look. Not unlike the result of near electrocution. No doubt ruminating about new obscure revolutionary Von Neumann computing concepts. At the expense of any scintilla of social graces. It was said that those who could emulate One’s vacant stare to best effect, rose all the quicker through the seamy roiled ranks of rats in PBB’s dingy stable.
Unknown to him, he carried the below-radar moniker Senyor Sonny. A curious reflection of both derision and grudging admiration. His soft spoken air belied a venal sociopathic sadistic streak. His idea of fun was to order the surreptitious towing of employee cars -- parked at the company lot in a manner not suited to his taste. Eventually he towed someone not in total obsequious genuflecting awe and got served with a Summons for Criminal Complaint. Peels of hysterical laughter were heard from an adjoining front office in exec row that afternoon.
The source of the laughter? Well that was Two. Two was the sales guru. Tall and handsome and good looking as One was strange. He sported a Mullet hairdo in the best tradition of Bernie Madoff and John Corzine. His ersatz patrician air was betrayed by a foul mouth, a randy wayward eye towards females and a heart of cold driven slush. He honed his craft of persuasion by practicing serial philandery on the many attractive woman targets under his employ. Subtlety was not a strong suit. How would just call them up at their office from his pool-side cabana at home and summon them for services. His idea of motivating the sales force was to hurl an antique spear the entire length of the front office conference room and embed it in the far wall. “That is what will happen to you if you fail to make your numbers!” Drywall contractors were called in regularly.
PBB baptized its fledgling product with a Latin and astronomical name that implied bright and new. They lucked out except in France where the name in translation meant more-or-less “it doesn’t work”. It was to be the last and only reasonably good nomenclature they conducted. The follow-on product was dubbed something ostensibly sexy from the heaven sphere. But it equated with being plunged into darkness. After that PBB degenerated its labeling into the hackneyed letter-number soup of its competitors. Years later they adopted the safety-first Corfam philosophy of Dupont. Names that that sounded vaguely good but in actuality meant nothing at all.
In the early days of PBB, a foolish west coast firm had made the mistake of offering a plug compatible knock off of PPB’s main product. And soon after, the HQ of that hapless victim entity did in fact go up in smoke and burn to the ground. (How’s that for a tautology?) Rumors persisted that PBB execs had contracted for the firebombing of this competitor. A grand jury was convened to look into arson charges.
As reward, one alleged lower-level henchman was assured a perpetual role on the PPB dole. So the story went. In a position that required no means of visible intellectual support. He was Smart’s boss. Manager of Marketing Communications. The term Emcee seemed to apply. He did little to dispel the rumors of his smokey past
Emcee’s rendition of the Vacant Stare was a smirk unchanging as any result from too much botox. – as though he was thinking about some inside joke to himself. Emcee’s idea of fun was to run for congress more-or-lesson PBB’s nickel. He lost. Or try to patent voice stress analyzing software. Sort of an illegal wiretap and lie detector combined. Patent denied. Or, assemble a staff of the weirdest wildest most out of control kooks he could find in an already screw loose corporate culture. In that endeavor, he succeeded beyond his fondest dream.
One of his stratagems to that end? Show around a cool color personality analyzer program. You rated ten colors in order and out popped a personality profile. Anonymous of course. Everyone took it. Good innocent fun. No one realized, anonymous, not. Emcee was secretly monitoring and parsing and sorting the result for the most crackpot intellects.
Now -- thanks to a healthy streak of a paranoia -- Smart Aleck got it. He knew what was going on. So he gamed the system. He methodically rated colors according to their grey scale value. Then he took the test again and inverted the grey scale values. The results were diametrically opposed and totally off the scale at each end. Emcee saw that one clever, devious and suspicious person had (a) figured out what was going on and (b) then gamed his program to defeat it. I want that man for my team, he must have thought. Smart Aleck had a job.
So under Emcee, a drove of devilish, dangerous, demented denizens assembled to his specifications toiled in relative obscurity. For this was technology company, not Proctor and Gamble. Marketing was not exactly its stock in trade. Marketing was a mere overhead. An expensive superfluous afterthought annoyance of sort, thought many. And Marketing Communication compounded even that. It was overhead on top of overhead. Accordingly, “Marcom” was partitioned off in a dark dank interior space fit for mushrooms. Such interior space was normally occupied by computers in labs. No windows. Even lowly Marketing types cold at least see outside light. Not so Marcom. One had to pass through several doors to achieve that.
Foremost among these troglodytes under the helm of Emcee was the sole female. Georgina Javelin, or GeeGeeJay for short.
With GeeJay, what you saw was most definitely not what you got. Her work attire was demure text book prep. She sported the penny loafers, mannish button down blouse and nondescript featureless (tautology rears its ugly head yet again) navy blue skirt considered de riguer uniform on many an pre-ivy league campus. She was pretty the way the Blue Bonnet Lady or a Kewpie doll is pretty. She had a crisp soft spoken voice. With s’s that hissed seductively . There was a strong streak of goody two shoes in her superficial demeanor. She was a very good little actress when it counted.
But, the real GGJ? Think, verdant and teeming tropical rain forest of complexity and subtlety and mystery and perversity and contradiction. GGJ teleported the concept of work hard, play hard, into the eleventh dimension. Her mind could be a strange and bizaare bazaar to those very very few who really knew her.. Pathos, aggression, comedy, vulnerability, strength, coyness, pathological mendacity – they were all in the mix. Modeling this coy and clever and confused creature’s cerebral process was a task beyond any known computational system. Then, now or far into the future.
In short, she was out there. Somewhere far beyond the pale.
GGJ’s home apartment was rendered in a hippie-crash-pad design theme. Her coffee table was a painted empty telephone cable spool. Her idea of a bed frame? The floor. She drove a Chevy Chevette with a cranky clutch and a ripped headliner. Her LP records were badly scratched.
You guessed it. Smart Aleck and GGJ were to become a match made in..purgatory. Replete with major league vice, folly, innuendo, imagery and psychopharmacology.
To be continued..perhaps..you know the AD thing…
The latest..how Not to get a date from the internet
Introducing Souperduperman
Wondrous beyond belief. Yup that's me. Stunning, astounding. Delectable, adorable. Marvelous, amazing. Enthralling, thrilling. Quixotic, exotic.
Heaven on earth, nectar to the gods, money in the bank, off the charts, under the radar, beyond the pale, in like flint, over the rainbow. And beside myself. Uh-huh. Oh yeah. I am all that and less.
I have the brain of Einstein, the Body of Adonis, the biceps of Paul Bunyan, the gorgeous good looks of JFK Jr., the soul of Ray Charles and ….
…the bank account of Howard Hughes. Oh -- after that last one -- you magically transmogrified your assessment of me -- from strange scary crank weirdo to charming lovable eccentric.
I croon like Caruso, compose like Mozart and beat the drum skins like Buddy Rich. My songs garner Grammies by the gross. Well, “gross” certainly applies in some aspect.
I am Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, and Reverent. And good at cut and paste. Ya think.
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor ice storm nor hurricane nor tornado nor gloom of night stays me from the swift completion of my appointed rounds…am I am immune from going postal. That much is true.
I am pumped, I’m buff and I’m tattooed after my birthplace across the Atlantic.
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyll-llantysiliogogogoch.
Guess where
My mom was a botanist. She discovered a herb that treats writer’s bloc. Called Prose…ac.
My dad was a virologist. He developed a way to grow polio vaccine in ordinary chicken eggs. No wonder we are all now… cluck-tistic.
I fly like Lindberg, chauffeur like Mario Andretti, cook like Julia Child, grill like Steven Raichlen, spice like Emril Lagasse and decorate like Martha Stewart. Before she went: (a) public; and (b) to Camp Cupcake. Jump tall buildings with a single bound? Not so much. I have a 44 foot long … ladder
My mind does not comprehend the concept of “automatic. ” I eat raw kale. Off the stalk. Kickstart my Harley. Rotary-dial my phone calls. Part the Red Seas. Hand prop my Douglas DC7-C. Walk on water. Split atoms. Light my stove with a match. Snow shovel my 800 foot driveway. By hand. With a spoon. Blindfolded.
I know what happened to Amelia Earhart, Jimmy Hoffa and Colonel Fawcett. But not my car keys.
I’ve co-starred with Ali Baba, Lady Gaga and Babwah Wawa. I have pinch hit for Manny Mota and Sammy Sosa. I drop names as often as the I-phone drops calls.
I am the fly … on the wall, in the ointment and still unzipped after a restroom Greyhound stop.
I twist like Chubby Checker. Chop wood like Woody Woodpecker. Direct like Sam Peckinpah. At the same time. Think, sawdust on the cutting room dance floor.
I watch my TV. Sometimes I even turn it on. And watch the snow in high def. On July 4.
I kindly take in animals with issues. Diabetic gila monster. Vegan bengal tiger. Acrophobic albatross. A vampire bat adverse to dark, belfries and hemoglobin. Can’t seem to cure my red squirrel of ADHD, though…What does not need help is my resident megalomanic hummingbird. Who thinks he’s alternatively a Bell-Boeing V-22 …or a Piasecki PA-97.
I am a professional wordsmith. Specialize in really tough how-to stuff. Think, turkey. My latest best seller is “Boiling Water for Dummies”. Before that, I penned a manual for track stars who moonlight as lawyers entitled, “Runaround, Sue.” In my spare time-- I’m a speech writer for troupe of mimes.
I live green. Its so frigid in here my icebox feeds power back to the grid. And my virgin olive oil pours like slush. My sundial is a robin frozen upright in my birdbath. How cool is all that.
I live in a pine forest. But they are annoying. They needle me, continually.
I am afflicted with analysis paralysis, chivalry rivalry, portfolio imbroglio. And too much time on my hands. And no day job.
I built a house so high it looks down on the clouds. And eye to eye with lesser deities.
So there you have me. SouperDuperman…with the emphasis on….Dupe….my middle name
Well -- you know I got bored with my old profile..smile...
Do I seek a relationship or merely an audience? Um, that’s kinda up to you…
Wondrous beyond belief. Yup that's me. Stunning, astounding. Delectable, adorable. Marvelous, amazing. Enthralling, thrilling. Quixotic, exotic.
Heaven on earth, nectar to the gods, money in the bank, off the charts, under the radar, beyond the pale, in like flint, over the rainbow. And beside myself. Uh-huh. Oh yeah. I am all that and less.
I have the brain of Einstein, the Body of Adonis, the biceps of Paul Bunyan, the gorgeous good looks of JFK Jr., the soul of Ray Charles and ….
…the bank account of Howard Hughes. Oh -- after that last one -- you magically transmogrified your assessment of me -- from strange scary crank weirdo to charming lovable eccentric.
I croon like Caruso, compose like Mozart and beat the drum skins like Buddy Rich. My songs garner Grammies by the gross. Well, “gross” certainly applies in some aspect.
I am Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, and Reverent. And good at cut and paste. Ya think.
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor ice storm nor hurricane nor tornado nor gloom of night stays me from the swift completion of my appointed rounds…am I am immune from going postal. That much is true.
I am pumped, I’m buff and I’m tattooed after my birthplace across the Atlantic.
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyll-llantysiliogogogoch.
Guess where
My mom was a botanist. She discovered a herb that treats writer’s bloc. Called Prose…ac.
My dad was a virologist. He developed a way to grow polio vaccine in ordinary chicken eggs. No wonder we are all now… cluck-tistic.
I fly like Lindberg, chauffeur like Mario Andretti, cook like Julia Child, grill like Steven Raichlen, spice like Emril Lagasse and decorate like Martha Stewart. Before she went: (a) public; and (b) to Camp Cupcake. Jump tall buildings with a single bound? Not so much. I have a 44 foot long … ladder
My mind does not comprehend the concept of “automatic. ” I eat raw kale. Off the stalk. Kickstart my Harley. Rotary-dial my phone calls. Part the Red Seas. Hand prop my Douglas DC7-C. Walk on water. Split atoms. Light my stove with a match. Snow shovel my 800 foot driveway. By hand. With a spoon. Blindfolded.
I know what happened to Amelia Earhart, Jimmy Hoffa and Colonel Fawcett. But not my car keys.
I’ve co-starred with Ali Baba, Lady Gaga and Babwah Wawa. I have pinch hit for Manny Mota and Sammy Sosa. I drop names as often as the I-phone drops calls.
I am the fly … on the wall, in the ointment and still unzipped after a restroom Greyhound stop.
I twist like Chubby Checker. Chop wood like Woody Woodpecker. Direct like Sam Peckinpah. At the same time. Think, sawdust on the cutting room dance floor.
I watch my TV. Sometimes I even turn it on. And watch the snow in high def. On July 4.
I kindly take in animals with issues. Diabetic gila monster. Vegan bengal tiger. Acrophobic albatross. A vampire bat adverse to dark, belfries and hemoglobin. Can’t seem to cure my red squirrel of ADHD, though…What does not need help is my resident megalomanic hummingbird. Who thinks he’s alternatively a Bell-Boeing V-22 …or a Piasecki PA-97.
I am a professional wordsmith. Specialize in really tough how-to stuff. Think, turkey. My latest best seller is “Boiling Water for Dummies”. Before that, I penned a manual for track stars who moonlight as lawyers entitled, “Runaround, Sue.” In my spare time-- I’m a speech writer for troupe of mimes.
I live green. Its so frigid in here my icebox feeds power back to the grid. And my virgin olive oil pours like slush. My sundial is a robin frozen upright in my birdbath. How cool is all that.
I live in a pine forest. But they are annoying. They needle me, continually.
I am afflicted with analysis paralysis, chivalry rivalry, portfolio imbroglio. And too much time on my hands. And no day job.
I built a house so high it looks down on the clouds. And eye to eye with lesser deities.
So there you have me. SouperDuperman…with the emphasis on….Dupe….my middle name
Well -- you know I got bored with my old profile..smile...
Do I seek a relationship or merely an audience? Um, that’s kinda up to you…
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Court appointed ambulance chaser needed
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/02/07/fausat-ogunbayo-suing-cit_n_1260727.html
Yup that is a mere 900 Trill....$900,000,000,000,000. No my zero key did not get stuck. Well it did (errant chewing gum) but I pulled it up in time. It was stuck down for only 45 minutes. So I had to add a coupla zeros manually.
With a name like that (sounds like an obscure country in Africa) -- no wonder she has a chip on her shoulder.
Nice juicy contingency fee available. Line already round the block at Hahvahd Law. Fisticuffs breaking out.
Yup that is a mere 900 Trill....$900,000,000,000,000. No my zero key did not get stuck. Well it did (errant chewing gum) but I pulled it up in time. It was stuck down for only 45 minutes. So I had to add a coupla zeros manually.
With a name like that (sounds like an obscure country in Africa) -- no wonder she has a chip on her shoulder.
Nice juicy contingency fee available. Line already round the block at Hahvahd Law. Fisticuffs breaking out.
This just in.....
Okay now we know . Turns out the Iranians have been enriching uranium …for a nuclear metal detector. They sold it to a group of guys from Albany last week.
Now these Albanians know about as much about world oceans as the ‘Driver’ of that cruise ship that turned turtle and gave Tuscany a bad name. Call him Captain? No way. Not even “Minnie” I mean he could have at least thrown Diane Lane a life-preserver. Ya think?
Anyway, Landlubber Gang somehow doggie paddled their waterlogged way to a discovery of a little bit of sunken platinum.,. just a whole freighter load…just off of the coast of Cape Cod….just worth about $50 trillion.
I mean there were so many rare coins strewn off Sankaty Light that dolphins were grounding themselves in a vain attempt to get to Foxwoods. They couldn’t make it because their suitcases were laden with too much of the metal.
But now poor platinum is gonna get the Pluto treatment. You know -- the planet that got demoted to Mickey’s dog? There’ll be so much of the stuff on the market its status as a precious metal is toast. People will line their bird cage floors with platinum foil. The Olympics will award Platinum Medals to the last place finishers. The market value of Platinum ingots will plummet like a homesick worm. People will try to trade them for Greek drachmas, S&H Green stamps and Sacagawea dollars.
But not to worry. Here’s the punch line. They will be seized and used to pay off the US national debt. And the government will then put up a pure platinum satellite. The size of Jupiter.
Called Platnik.
Now these Albanians know about as much about world oceans as the ‘Driver’ of that cruise ship that turned turtle and gave Tuscany a bad name. Call him Captain? No way. Not even “Minnie” I mean he could have at least thrown Diane Lane a life-preserver. Ya think?
Anyway, Landlubber Gang somehow doggie paddled their waterlogged way to a discovery of a little bit of sunken platinum.,. just a whole freighter load…just off of the coast of Cape Cod….just worth about $50 trillion.
I mean there were so many rare coins strewn off Sankaty Light that dolphins were grounding themselves in a vain attempt to get to Foxwoods. They couldn’t make it because their suitcases were laden with too much of the metal.
But now poor platinum is gonna get the Pluto treatment. You know -- the planet that got demoted to Mickey’s dog? There’ll be so much of the stuff on the market its status as a precious metal is toast. People will line their bird cage floors with platinum foil. The Olympics will award Platinum Medals to the last place finishers. The market value of Platinum ingots will plummet like a homesick worm. People will try to trade them for Greek drachmas, S&H Green stamps and Sacagawea dollars.
But not to worry. Here’s the punch line. They will be seized and used to pay off the US national debt. And the government will then put up a pure platinum satellite. The size of Jupiter.
Called Platnik.
Intentional grounding
What do lousy quarterbacks and careful electricians often do?
Thursday, February 2, 2012
How brave is this?
Cowering in my sleeping bag.
In a straight jacket.
Armed with an RPG.
And brass knuckles
Clenching a bowie knife in my incisors.
Under five comforters.
In the locked closet.
Behind the deadbolted bedroom door.
A floor above the barricaded stair.
Inside the Liquid Plumber moat.
Beyond the padlocked pipe gate.
And the boobytrapped property line.
Within a gated community.
In a town with snob zoning.
In a straight jacket.
Armed with an RPG.
And brass knuckles
Clenching a bowie knife in my incisors.
Under five comforters.
In the locked closet.
Behind the deadbolted bedroom door.
A floor above the barricaded stair.
Inside the Liquid Plumber moat.
Beyond the padlocked pipe gate.
And the boobytrapped property line.
Within a gated community.
In a town with snob zoning.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
The Tardive Dyskinesia Monologues
Whats the new high brow flick starring Ali Baba, Lady Gaga, Tammy Papa, and SNL’s Barbara Wawa?
Friday, January 27, 2012
Jugger-naught
What'd they call the ne-er do well at the bottle factory?
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Paper cuts
What's the occupational hazard for Callista Gingrich's hair dresser?
Monday, January 9, 2012
ZInfandell
What make of computer does a winery use?
Finishing School
Where did Stalin lean how to purge his opponents?
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