Thursday, November 26, 2015

Gee, Thanks (Part III)

"Okay, so I'm finally inside.  But, after all those chimichangas around the fire, a skeleton has to do what a skeleton has to do, amirite?  I still have to introduce the conclusion, though.  Apparently, Mrs. Penwasser gave Al the job of sticking his hand up a dead bird's anal cavity-which I think he kind of digs.  So, I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this horrid Thanksgiving observance.  Oh, before you go...could you shut the door?"  

    In homes across the nation, this scene will be played out anew (during halftime).  In the true spirit of the holiday, millions of family members will likewise be grilled or have their pumpkin pie withheld.

    This year, though, in a break from tradition, I plan on regaling my family with a list of things I’d be thankful for if they actually happened.


1.  That Michael Phelps got so baked he ate so many subs and ended up looking like how that Jared guy from Subway used to look.
Yeahhhhhhh...this is probably a little dated. Have you seen pictures of Jared lately?
They went to Jared

2.  My doctor ordered me to eat at Hooters.

3.  My dentist told me flossing was overrated.

4.  My wife thought the Three Stooges were hilarious.

5.  The French thought Jerry Lewis was not.

6.  They would take that creepy Halls’ commercial off the air.  You know the one I mean.  That college kid and Mom checking each other out while sucking on cough drops just skeeves me.
NOTE:  This commercial no longer exists, thank God.  I told you it was a repost.  I’ll switch this for the one where those dumbasses talk their coworker into taking his car to AAMCO. 
NOTE:  This commercial no longer exists.  Now, all we have are Jeb Bush political ads.  I miss that Halls spot.

Or, heaven help me, even the one with this little creepy stalker.

7.  My golf and bowling scores were reversed.

8.  Man boobs were considered sexy.

9.  Christmas ads didn’t start on Labor Day weekend.

10.  Cashiers didn’t insist I “Have a nice day.”  That’s pressure I can do without.

11.  Once, just once, my order at the drive-thru wasn’t hopelessly screwed up.

12.  McDonalds dropped all the coy pretense.  Honestly, what kid would prefer carrots over French Fries?

13.  Speaking of McDonalds, I’d be thankful if the world was devoid of idiots who needed to be reminded, “Caution:  Coffee is hot.”

14.  I had the option of taking a written prostate exam.

15.  Congress would forget to set their alarm clocks.  For the next 50 years.

16.  Michael Moore would just shut the F up.

17.  Halloween wasn’t the “Fall Festival”, Christmas wasn’t the “Winter Festival”, Columbus Day wasn’t the “European Pillage and Rape Festival”, and Hanukkah wasn’t the “Festival of Lights.”  Oh...wait a minute...we can keep that one.

18.  Hannikoh...Chonikuh...Harmonica.  I just wish it was easier to spell.  And, pronouncing it didn’t sound like you had some phlegm thing going on.

19.  Cranberry Sauce was ALWAYS sold in cans with those neat little rings.  I never trusted the looks of the fresh stuff.

20.  They used exploding footballs at Thanksgiving Day games.

21.  Those damn squirrels weren’t plotting against me.

22.  That Octo-Mom and Charlie Sheen could have a half-dozen babies together.  Because they’re just so damn cute!
NOTE:  This one may be a little dated, too.  Charlie has issues now.
"I'm willing to take his place.
You can forget about all those kids, though."

23.  Erectile dysfunction was only seen at construction sites.
NOTE:  As I re-read this, I’m not even sure what the hell this means.  I think, when I originally wrote this, commercials for "Boner Pills" were filmed around construction workers.

"Big, burly mens with their tool belts, though.  Just giving me the sweats."

24.  Donald Duck would just put on a pair of pants.  And, while we’re at it, Mr. Peanut could use a set of britches, too.

25.  Kim Kardashian would just find real love, dammit!

26.  Drinking beer and eating Doritos while watching football was an Olympic sport. 

27.  If we could stop all those Viagra and Cialis commercials.  Ok, ok, I know, I officially qualify for membership in AARP, but that doesn’t mean I want to see codgers leering at each other.  Speaking of Cialis, I find it funny that the man and woman are in separate bath tubs.  Kinda defeats the purpose, if you ask me.

28.  That Gary Coleman was allowed to make a real difference in this country.
"I'm sorry, sir, Mr. Coleman is busy.
May I take a message?"

29.  That, following the death of Qaddafy, there will finally be peace in the Middle East.    

30.  Being politically correct consisted only of knowing:  Elephant-Republican, Donkey-Democrat, Jackass-Al Franken.
First Runner-Up

    ‘Course, that’s just me.  Ya gonna eat that drumstick?

Happy Thanksgiving!
"Just remember, the wishbone comes from the bird.
I don't want a repeat of the ugliness from last year."

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Gee, Thanks (Part II)

"Bad news?  He didn't let me in.  
Good news?  He built me a nice toasty fire.  
Worst news?  This is only part two of three.  
Yeah, kinda sucks to be you."
NOTE:  This was clearly taken during the summer.
But, hey, sometimes comedy is not pretty. Or accurate.
The appearance of bare legs courtesy of my brother and nephew.
     Oh, what a day it must have been!

    The brightly colored leaves swirling madly amongst the trees, a chill autumn wind blowing briskly over freshly-harvested fields, and the forest animals bustling crazily about in preparation for winter.
"Very descriptive, Penwasser, very descriptive.
But, no mention of Jesus.
Knuckles, please."
    And nobody fighting over the remote.

    So it was in 1621 that Governor Bradford of Plimouth (that’s how they spelled it back then, smart guy) Colony thought it was high time to celebrate a day of thanksgiving.

    Frantically scurrying to find a suitable venue at which to hold their celebration, the Pilgrim fathers were disappointed to learn they were too late; all the good days in October and early November had been reserved months earlier for the Pequot/Schwartz wedding reception, the Jamestown “We Were First” Commemoration, and the last of the Mohican family reunions.

"Yeah, up yours, eh?"
    And, wouldn’t you know it, those smarty-pants Canadians with their hockey and wool hats decided to have their own harvest celebration on Columbus Day weekend.  This, despite a fierce ad campaign by the “Sons of the Santa Maria” fraternal organization.   

    Luckily, a spot opened up the last Thursday of November when “Mohawks On Ice!” was forced to close after some rogue Hurons stole their loincloths.  So, the Native Europeans invited their friends, the Native Americans, to a grand feast held at the local Moose lodge picnic pavilion (with real moose.  Or, would that be ‘mooses?’  Or ‘meese?’  Sheesh.  Frikkin' English). 

    A grateful people, the Pilgrims wished to thank the “heathen savages” for all their help getting the colony on its feet.  After all, the tribe was essential to their gaining a foothold in the New World, long before the Trail of Tears, Wounded Knee, and all-you-can-eat casino buffets. 

"Squanto tell white devil bury fish with corn.
Yeah.  No shit."

    Imagine what would have happened had Squanto not taught the Pilgrims to plant dead fish with their corn (“Behold, I bring you the gift of maize!  As long as you don’t mind the smell of dead fish”). 

    Prior to that, they just stuck them in their trousers.

    Plus, the tribe brought the eel pies. 
"Really, Runs With Scissors, eel pies?
Couldn't bring a green bean
casserole like a normal person?"

    Many customs today hearken back to this coming together of disparate peoples.  The feast, the fellowship, two-hand touch game of lacrosse after supper, and everyone falling asleep in front of the fire while the women cleaned up all laid the foundation of that which identifies us as a nation.

    NOTE:  By us, I mean the United States.  Canada, you have your own Thanksgiving.  England, you coulda had a piece of this, but noooooooooo.

    Luckily, some aspects of that first thanksgiving have not survived.  For instance, few people realize that, while turkey was indeed one of the dishes, the main course consisted primarily of venison, cod, squirrels, and SPAM. 

    And, as much fun as scalping captive fur trappers from New France was, I don’t think it would go over that big today.  Then again, they were French.    

    Happily, it was the giving of thanks which has endured throughout peace, war, and the Obama Administration.  No doubt Governor Bradford himself began a tradition which survives to this day:  putting relatives on the spot to state what they’re thankful for (or ‘that for which they are thankful.’  Happy now, grammar snobs?).  If they didn’t come clean, they wouldn’t be allowed to eat food they wouldn’t normally eat any other time of year (think ‘eels’).
When the kids piss and moan about the turnips and squash, remind them...
 it could be worse.

To be concluded...

Next:  We give thanks.  Mostly, that this post is almost over.

Monday, November 23, 2015

Gee, Thanks (Part I)

"Hi, gang, Bones here.  As I'm sure most of you have guessed, the below is a repost from last year.  And from the year before that. But, Mr.'I'm An Author Now So I'm Too Good To Admit That This Is a Rerun' ordered me to make the announcement for him.  Or he won't let me come inside.  I hope this'll do the trick  because I've already frozen my ass off.  And everything else."

    Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
"Yes, I told him to make a few changes.  
Now, get your ass back inside that pie shell."

NOTE:  Yes, I realize Bones doesn't have a parka on.
I'm too important now to take another picture.  

    It’s the first in a series of year-end celebrations, the others being Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Years.  Okay, calendar-nerds, New Years is technically the beginning of the year, but what we’re talking about-really-is New Year’s EVE.  

January 1st is just for Alka-Seltzer IV drips and watching college football until bloodshot eyes roll back into their sockets like hot coals in a snow bank. 

    You could make the case that Veterans Day kicks it off.  But, as evidenced by the dismal ratings of the short-lived It’s the War to End All Wars, Charlie Brown special on TBS, forcing Santa Claus to wear a gas mask at the mall is really tacky.  Likewise, you could say that Kwanzaa (Swahili for “A Couple of Days After Christmas”) wraps it up, but it’s the Big Three which put the Seasons in Seasons Greetings.

    Unless you count Boxing Day.  That'll give you four.
"Wrong type of boxing, ya dumb palooka!"
    I mean, after all, what evokes the holiday
"I saw that Sony Playstation first!
Merry Christmas."
spirit more than getting trampled at Wal-Mart by frenzied harpies in bathrobes and curlers on Black Friday?

    As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate how special Thanksgiving is.  A more sober occasion than the frenetic zaniness of the Yuletide season, families gather at Thanksgiving just for the sake of being together, not because they hope to score the latest electronic gizmo.
"Plus, there's food."
"And...donuts?  Perchance?" 
    Oh, sure, there are parades, football games, and enough food to sink the Mayflower, but Thanksgiving is thankfully (pardon the pun) devoid of the commercialism of Christmas and the bacchanalian excess of New Year’s Eve.  It’s similar to Hanukah, but, even during the Festival of Lights, there is some amount of commercialized gift-giving.

    Gratefully, we aren’t bombarded by wall-to-wall advertisements to get your loved ones the very latest in techno wizardry (“Because,
There is the
Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Special.
Which sucked on ice.
I can't possibly be the only one
who notices the dinner table is segregated.
if you REALLY loved Mom, you’d buy her an I-Phone!”) in the run-up to Thanksgiving.  Plus, there’s no such thing as a “24-Hour Thanksgiving Music Station” nor a “Randolph the Hair-Lipped Turkey” special on the Hallmark channel.

    No, Thanksgiving is a calming prelude to the mania which paralyzes every December.  It’s a time to appreciate what we’ve been given in life.

"Like the Cowboys game on TV!!!

    As the day draws nearer, I think back to that very first day of thanks held almost four hundred years ago...

To be continued....
   A  Thanksgiving history lesson.  As far as you know.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Got a New Fit-Bit!

I think it's one of those cheap ones, though.

It only tells me when it's time to go to the gym.

Friday, November 20, 2015

It's Here!

    No, I don't mean Joe Biden's birthday (he's 73 today), as much as a "I Don't Give a Flying Crap" kind of event as that is.

"Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, twinkle, twinkle little star,
for he's a jolly good fell...SQUIRREL!"

    No, I mean my newest book, It's An Adventure is available for purchase on either in the paperback version (good for wrapping fish) or Kindle version (good for rapping people in the head who are trying to steal your copy*).

Buy now for Christmas!
Special for Hanukkah:
get your copy now AT THE VERY SAME PRICE!
   I've decided to once again pawn my crap work on Create Space, a self-publishing entity which publishes anything seeks to enhance the work of up and coming authors because I knew no self-respecting publisher would entertain this amateurish botch job wanted to get this out to you, my faithful followers, as soon as possible.

    An entertaining journey through three years of my service aboard the aircraft carrier, USS America (I am positive most of you know this), It's An Adventure takes you through three years of my service aboard the aircraft carrier, USS America (hey, I didn't feel like being any more creative than that.  I just wrote a book, dammit!).
"Huh.  Wonder if I should be on board?"
  Plus, I may make some money.

  Significant to this latest?  It has page numbers, unlike my last book, It's Not Just A Job (still available to be ignored on Amazon. com).

  So, if you're going to a Holiday Party and want to give something of no redeeming social value whatsoever, you could do a whole lot worse than pissing away some money on this.  

   You could buy a fruitcake, I guess.  At least you could eat a fruitcake.  

    You could eat It's An Adventure, too.  If you were a goat.

"Or you're out of donuts."

    On a related note....good grief, did you get a load of that picture of me????  Buy this thing quick before I die.

*This will never happen.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Captain Caption LXXV

"I knew I should have listened to Biden.
'Take the Penwasser fight,' he said.
'He's nothing but a little loudmouth,' he said.
And, so, I got my butt whipped  But, my top stayed on.
That has to count for something."

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Manners, Please

    I believe, that unlike Joe Biden (who is still struggling with that whole vexing "what color is blue?" conundrum) that we can learn something new every day.

"You would think somebody would give me a clue."

     So it is I learned something today.
    When reading and commenting on your blogs (which really is my favorite thing to do), I happened upon Cherdo On the Flipside.*  Her latest (which may not be her "latest," anymore) was "Thank You, Red Cup."  In her post, she slew the silliness which has attached itself to the red cups that Starbucks is selling during this Christmas season.  Yes, I know that it's not Thanksgiving yet, but if Lowes and Home Depot are to be believed, the Yuletide is nearly here.
"Betcher ass!"

    Concise, succinct and (unlike anything here) coherent, she described the ridiculous knees-bent running about which is taking place over a private business not putting "Merry Christmas" on frikkin' beverage containers.
    I commented on her well-written essay with, undoubtedly, a rambling mess (for this is what I do).  Anyway, she deleted my comment because her blog is read by young folks.  Apparently, I used some language which was offensive.  At no time was I offended.  As a matter of fact, I was embarrassed.  And curious what I had written.  I'm old.  I sometimes forget.  She assured me that I didn't use "that" word.  So, that left me wondering what it was I had written.
"It better not have been that
word people call me behind my back!"

"Or to your face, you stupid cu...heyyyyyy darlin', you from around here?"

    Since I normally think of Starbucks as "pretentious A-Holes," that may have been it.  Can you imagine a little kid calling another little kid a "pretentious A-Hole?"  Yeah, I would have deleted me, too.
"Well, now, that's a little uncalled for, don'tcha think?
You the one who ordered the Venti latte?

    I know what you're wondering, "So what did you learn Al?  That you're a foul-mouthed little dwarf?"  Guilty as charged, your honor.  Maybe not completely foul-mouthed-I don't normally use "that" word...okay, fuck-my language may be inappropriate for young ears.  Or Grandma.
"Fuckin' A.  Lap dance?"

    No, what I learned is that, when we visit other peoples' blogs, we are effectively visiting their "homes."  Granted, you don't have to wipe your feet or even put on pants.  But, we still should observe some element of decorum.  Don't go in there and "Eff this" and "Eff that."
"And thank Christ for that!"

"No problem, Slim!"
    Same with any social media.  Because you don't know who is on the other end.  Good grief, I don't want  to hear some five year old say "Because Al Penwasser says they're frikkin' douche canoes at Chuck E. Cheese." on the news.  The world is messed up enough as it is.
    No sense contributing to it.
    So, from now on, I will be much more circumspect (love those big words) when engaging in a discussion  on someone's blog, Facebook, Twitter, or MySpace.
"MySpace?  You're kidding, right?"
    Cherdo is what we call...mature.  And I respect her decision to expunge my comment as much as I respect (and admire) her. As for Penwasser Place?  Well, knock yourselves out.  There isn't anyone here who would have a problem with anything anyone wrote.  Mrs. Penwasser doesn't even read this.  Incidentally, though, you'll never see any word of criticism of her.  Because, my luck, that'll be the day she decides to read.
    And if anyone has a problem?  Well, tough shit.

*Yeah, I just "happened" upon her blog.  She's a loyal follower who, incredibly, reads the crap I write.