Monday, March 28, 2016

Captain Caption XC

"PFFTT!  Trump's got nothin' on me!
Get a load of the size of these hands!!"

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Happy Easter Leftovers!

From 2013, thought I'd post this today so you have Holy Thursday (to have a good meal), Good Friday (for guilt), Holy Saturday (what else are they going to call it?  "Easter Halftime"?), and Easter Sunday (which is...Sunday) to mull over.  You can also have Easter Monday to casually read this as you're free-basing Peeps and Cadbury Eggs after you call in sick to work.  After Monday, though, Penwasser Place goes into hibernation a tad until the A-Z Challenge which starts on the 1st.  Enjoy.  Or not.  I've got some chocolate bunnies to eat.

I don't mean that in a dirty way. 

Begin the repost....NOW!
NOTE:  Even this line is a repost.

FROM THE PROPRIETOR:  The reader is cautioned that the below is a repeat of a repeat of a repeat ("My GOD, Penwasser, how many times are you going to make us read this crap!?").  Since it's late and I have a headache and Mrs. Penwasser is almost asleep, I don't have a lot of time on my hands (Meaning: if I don't hurry and Mrs. Penwasser actually falls asleep, all I'll have are my hands).  So, yeah, you've read this before.  But, I have read it again and...maybe...I put in some new lines.  Or not.  Mrs. P is looking mighty sleepy, ya know.  So, sit back and enjoy (even that line is recycled!).  And, if you're so inclined to comment, please feel free to recycle your comment from last year.


Begin the repost...NOW!:

  For the sharp-eyed, this is a repeat of my repeat of my Easter post from last year.
  Sorry, this is pretty long, but sit back and enjoy.  Or skim though it and pick out something innocuous upon which to comment.  Then it'll make it seem as if you took the entire time to read with no one the wiser.


Starring the Son of God, Moses, and Chocolate Bunny Heads
 Even though the countdown to Easter Sunday is supposed to start after Ash Wednesday, it really begins when unsold chocolate Cupids at Wal-Mart are exchanged for countless herds of chocolate rabbits.
  It’s the most sacred of Christian holidays...which is somehow associated with bunnies, ducks, and chicks.  In fact, I was amazed at how happy those little animals seemed, considering that giving baby ducks and chickens to my brothers and I was tantamount to a death sentence. 

"If you want really good luck,
it's not my foot you have to rub.
Also, kiddies, after Easter,
I plan on getting a job at Subway.
I hear there's an opening."
    I've always been mystified as to exactly when Easter Sunday falls.      
    Based on the last full moon during leap year when the vernal equinox is on a Wednesday and the moon is in its summer house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, I always knew exactly when it was: March or April. 
    In any event, Easter was a glorious time of year, which started off with the traditional coloring of the Easter Eggs.
    Beginning with stern admonitions from my father to make sure we didn’t get dye all over the $20 table he bought at Railroad Salvage, our dipping-of-hen-fruit-in-colored-vinegar-water rituals started out serenely enough.  Until they degenerated into sloppy free-for-alls where we got more dye on each other than on the hard-boiled eggs.

"Man, this blows!
Glad we don't have to do 

this crap for Christmas.  
But, we can take off our shirts. 
Then beat the women."
    Satisfied with our work (and out of dye), we then seeded our garish prizes throughout the house in preparation for a family hunt the next day.  Nothing was off-limits as we deposited eggs in the most obscure places, all the while listening to our father boast he'd find the most eggs and make the finest egg salad in all the land.

    Unfortunately, nobody kept track of how many eggs were hidden or where they were laid.  This resulted in an incomplete tally, but we didn’t mind.  We had loads of other goodies with which to stuff ourselves.

    No worries.  Until our dog found an especially pungent bearded egg behind the stereo on Labor Day.   

    Eggs scattered, our excitement reached fever pitch as we knew that, come the dawn, we’d tumble down the stairs to see what the Easter Bunny had brought us.  A sort of off-season reenactment of the Christmas frenzy, Easter morn was a candy gorge-fest which propelled us into a frenetic sugar buzz not seen since December 25th.

"Sure, Santa, gets a sleigh and reindeer.
But, I get to sodomize the family pet."
    I never figured out the Easter Bunny’s deal.  Unlike Santa Claus, who slid his chubby keister down a chimney, Mr. Bunny seemed content with your basic, garden-variety breaking and entering.  

    We never left cookies and milk  and we never tried to stay awake to watch him deliver our presents.  Like the milkman, we just figured he’d automatically come through.

    Hmm, come to think of it, did that mean we didn’t trust Santa, considering we always wanted to remain awake to see him place our toys under the tree?  But, I digress...

    Speaking of a tree, the occasion of Easter didn’t offer up a central location for the rabbit to dump his loot.  I guess my parents were content to let him drop them wherever he found room.

"You mean I don't have to go to Syria?
Thank Christ!  No pun intended."
    As far as Easter baskets went, he had quite a haul to carry.  The good news is that he only had to worry about Christian kids unlike Santa, who pretty much had the whole shebang.  Except the Middle East.  And possibly the Mormons.

    My point is that, while Jolly Saint Nick had a reindeer-drawn sleigh, what’d the Easter Bunny have?  That’s right-nothing.  He couldn’t even rent a Pacer, so he had to haul everything around on his back.

    No wonder he never went “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

    Our baskets overflowed with all manner of sweets.  Sure, there were the proverbial candy Easter eggs (also known as chocolate “footballs” at Christmas) and jelly beans, but my favorite had to be the chocolate bunnies.

Even little Jeffy Dahmer loved Easter
    What kid didn’t delight in first lopping off the hapless candy rabbit’s ears-“Look, Mom, a squirrel!”?  This confectionery mutilation was then followed by the rabbit’s ritual decapitation, leaving only a headless lump.  What a sad end for a creature whose only crime was being placed in a drugstore candy aisle a few days before.

    I remember being disappointed that my bunnies were hollow.  I would have much preferred they’d be solid, although I probably would have broken my teeth gnawing on a fifteen pound hunk of chocolate.  But, on the bright side, I’d have had enough sugar to keep me buzzing until Columbus Day.

4 out of 5 dentists
recommend Peeps
    Licking our lips as we finished savaging our Brer Rabbits (or the equally delicious Lucky Ducks), we then turned our attention to little chocolate-covered rabbit/duck/chick marshmallows and the yellow sugar balls known as Peeps.  
  As we sadly hit the bottom of our baskets, we knew exactly what to do with the black licorice jelly beans and candy-coated almonds:  fling them at our little brother, Gary.
  Our mouths ringed in melted chocolate, our teeth encrusted with Peeps detritus, and our vision blurred, we blearily glanced at the clock above the television.  Wow, not even eight o’clock.

  In other words, as our mother cheerfully announced from the kitchen, “Okay, kids, time for church!”

  The real reason for the day, we dutifully trooped off-usually through snow-to the nine o’clock Mass at Saint Stanislaus.
  It was here we came crashing down from our candy rush as we struggled to stay awake during Father Karl’s sermon, Peter Cottontail, Satan With Cottonballs.  The good news is this was one of the two times (the other being Christmas) that Mom was successful in forcing our father into church.

"Once this is over, 
I'm going to totally rock 
that Lily Munster gig."
    Usually, he was content to watch The Ten Commandments or Ben Hur and call it even.
NOTE:  The Ten Commandments pulled double-duty as it was good for Easter and Passover.  That Cecil B. DeMille was a marketing genius!
    As he liked to say, “I used to be a practicing Catholic, but I got good at it.  The ‘Lord’ doesn’t need me anymore."

  Even so, I bet the Lord would have still wanted him to put on some pants while watching TV.

    After an hour’s worth of guilt, we headed back home to finish off any candy we had so carelessly missed earlier that morning.

    Mom, meanwhile, began intense preparations for the Easter “feast.”

    For some reason, ham was always the meat of choice to celebrate Easter.  Unlike the pterodactyl-sized turkey we devoured at Christmas, it seemed appropriate to give equal time to eating the flesh of another barnyard animal.
"No, you tell the old lady
with the babushka that this isn't her bus stop."
  Of course, it could also have been a subconscious “up yours!” to our Jewish friends.      

  But, I thought it had more to do with the fact that my mother didn’t have to defrost a ham for three days, pull its gizzards out, stuff any available cavity she found with Wonder Bread, and start cooking it before the sun came up.

    After all, that was only for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

    No, cooking ham and potatoes from a box was a whole lot easier.  In fact, it wasn’t until I grew up that I realized ham didn’t even come in a can.

"Whaddya mean, I'm Jewish? 
I thought I was Catholic. 
This is Easter, isn't it?"
    Eventually, the joy which is Easter drew to a close.  As we sat transfixed by the litter of candy corpses and the sight of Charlton Heston shoving a stick at the Red Sea, a sad thought struck us like a lightning bolt from the blue:

    No more chocolate bunnies for another year.     

    Whew.  Thank goodness for Halloween.

Happy Easter!

Monday, March 21, 2016

Captain Caption LXXXIX

"And then, if I take my shoes off, I can count to TWENTY!"

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

With Apologies to Pat Hatt

Occasionally, I'll write a poem.  Unlike  Pat Hatt and the cat, though, I'm not terribly talented.  But, hey, you can't go wrong with Gary Coleman in his skivvies.

NOTE:  It's not really Gary Coleman.  Rather, it's a little black man with Beyonce thighs.

April 21st-Brought To You By the Letter 'U'

The Underwear Wars

  Come, listen, my children, from everywhere
to the epic battles of underwear.
  Commenced first over briefs, called tighty-whiteys,
that were liked by men both weak and mighty.

  But, soon, a young woman began to fret
and wonder why she wasn’t pregnant yet.
  For, you see, the problem lay in the fit
of briefs which pulled the sack near where he’d sit.

  Thus cooked, the sperm all had no place to hide.
Victims of body temperature, boiled and died.
  No happy eggs and no mother-to-be
Just a man and his wife and their color TV
(NOTE: Hey, it rhymed.  Sue me.)

  A doctor’s care being her last resort,
she bought him some boxers, just like gym shorts.
  She told him their loose, casual fit
will keep his “boys” far from where he sits.

  With them cooled, his swimmers will be able
to find a place at the “Mommy Table.”
  But, he whined and moaned, “I hate the big hole.
It’s a big inconvenient ‘Whack-A-Mole’.”

  So, to shut up her husband and give her relief
She then thought to buy him some boxer briefs.
  Not quite as snug as the white linen sacks
they gave him the comfort that boxers lacked.

  Excited over this underwear kind
The wife hustled home, but only to find.
  Her man, at the doorway, happily bare
He grinned.  No shirt, no pants, no underwear.

  “Honey,” he said, “I’ve got a great plan
that I’m happy to say you’ll understand.
  “For, just like Kramer or Marlon Brando,
No undies for me.  I’m going commando.”

Epilogue:  In a coma, the wife is not expected to live.  Her living will stipulates that her eggs be harvested for the local in-vitro fertilization clinic.

(NOTE:  Okay, so I’m no Shakespeare.  But, I couldn’t think of anything else that rhymed with ‘commando’)

As always, Mr. Coleman could not be reached for comment.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Captain Caption LXXXVIII

"You mean it takes more than three licks
to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop!?"

Saturday, March 12, 2016

Repeat From April 26, 2011This

This was from the 2011 A-Z Challenge
For the letter 'Z'
This may be obvious

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses a Head

    As threaten...err, promised, I'm working on the A-Z Challaenge.  With that in mind, I will be offering up some reposts (this is what I do) through the month of March.  

    So, for your viewing pleasure (?), may I present Facebook Funnies XIII from 2012?

    I'll be honest, I considered using this for the challenge, but I reconsidered.  After all, it pays to be honest.  Especially if you might get caught.
"Honest?  Can't hurt to tr...nawwwwwwwwww."

"So, an infidel walks into a bar with
a pig, a monkey, and a Jew.  But, I repeat myself.  
Hey, you've all been great!  
Now let's get on with the stoning!"

Oh, just to cover my behind,  I do not believe in this sentiment.  
This is is merely what I think the crazy bastards in Iran would think.  
Because comedy.

"Okay, you don't have to blow his head off, after all."

Monday, March 7, 2016

Captain Caption LXXXVII

It's a "two-fer" for today's Captain Caption!

"Sprinkles.  I told the orange baboon I wanted sprinkles!"

"Sprinkles are for winners."

Friday, March 4, 2016

Going to Go Away For a While.


    No, I don't mean like that.  You should be so lucky.

"You mean he's not goin?  Eff."
      What I'm talking about is going away for the next month so I can prepare for the A-Z Challenge.  

    Oh, sure, you'll still have putrid repeats, like you've seen every March for the past few years (with the exception of that time I skipped the challenge...what, a couple years ago?  That was sooo 2014).

   Plus, Captain Captions will carry on as before.  Because, like I said, how hard are those?

    But, there won't be anything new.  For one reason, I won't have the time to give you the side-splitting comedy (or whatever the frik you call this) you've come to expect.  That doesn't cost you a cent, by the way.  For another, if I do come up with something, it's going to get assigned a letter and go immediately to the A-Z Challenge delayed list.  Then, I can go goof off and maybe have myself a beer.
Or several.

    After careful deliberation, I've decided to go ahead and wing it this year.  Mostly.  When I do adhere to a theme, it will be history-related.  But, if a topic strikes me as something I'd like to put on delay post, then by all means, that's what I'll do.  I'll be kind of schizophrenic that way.
Thank you in advance for understanding.

    I've already written a couple posts.  Over the next few weeks, I'll
"Good thing you no write Chinese alphabet.
Month not long enough."

-Sum Yung Gai

#5 With Duck Sauce
write twenty-four more (there are twenty-six letters in the English alphabet, right?  Whew).  

    I'll do my best to keep them as short as I can (much like myself). I realize that all most people want to do is "touch and go," glance at a post here, comment there, and then surf for that two girl/one cup video nature pictures. 

    I mean, who has time to slog through what can be a tedious post (or something other than Penwasser Place)?  I think these should all be brief, succinct, and contain sometimes questionable pictures.

    After all, it's not like Blogger or the A-Z Challenge is War and Peace.
"Thank Christ.  
That was a real bitch to write.
I didn't even have time to shave."

NOTE:  Leo Tolstoy.  For those who went to American public schools.
"Hey, Leo?  You're welcome, pal."
    Rather, I wanted to give you all a chance to quickly stop by and visit.  Then, like relatives, get the hell out.  After leaving a comment, of course.  Unless it's a "you suck" comment.  Then, just get the hell out.  I hear "you suck" plenty from Mrs. Penwasser.

    By way of a "tease," though, I do plan on writing a post about
"Be honest.
It's the piercings, isn't it?"
Xerxes.  He is my favorite despot, you know.  

    Speaking of despots, I also plan on announcing who I will endorse for president of the United States.  I took a detailed look at each candidate's position on the critical issues facing us and the world.  Then, I examined whether he or she has the temperament to assume the awesome responsibilities of Commander-in-Chief of the largest armed force this side of the United States Postal Service.

"The bad news?  You have to poop in the corner now.
The good?  No more Penwasser Place."
  Whether they would bring on the apocalypse is irrelevant.  I chose the candidate who will give me and, by extension, you (but, really, me) the biggest chuckles as the unquestioned king (or queen) of comedy gold.


  Big enough tease for ya?

   So, until April 1st, here's Al signing off.  Please feel free to stop by the next thirty days.  If you like repeats. 

"See?  This comedy is FREE!  Except for the rich.
Because up yours."