Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Captain Caption CXXII

3 Way

Sunday, September 25, 2016

This On a Continual Loop

Much more effective than waterboarding.


Friday, September 23, 2016

George HW Bush to Vote For Hillary?

"Hey, that's how we get to a New World Order.
Plus, I'm totally butt-hurt about what Orange Julius did during the debates.
He may be a dunce, but he's my boy."

"Please clap."

"What?  The old fart called me a dunce?  Oh, he meant Jeb? 
That's okay, then.
Jeb is kind of a doofus.
Who is this again?"

"Please to be getting off the lines.
Am holdings for Mr. Bahamas."

"Yes, my refrigerator is running.  Why?"
"Huh.  There it goes."

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Caption Caption CXX

"You know, Don, I don't normally swing that way.
But a 'handy's' a 'handy,' after all."

Sunday, September 18, 2016

You Know Me

    Unless you just happened to blunder onto Penwasser Place by accident while looking for porn,
You know, like the newsletter from NAMFLA 
(North America Man-Fish Love Association)

you pretty much know what you're getting into.  Most of you are regulars, some from the get-go in 2009 (like Pat and the Cat, those poor bastards) and some roped in from the various A-Z Challenges throughout the year (and for that, I thank you Arlee Bird!).

    Through it all, you've seen your share of probably questionable topics, many from the gutter....
"Penwasser's still down there, right?"

and many which don't share your world view.
"I think he's talking about us again."
    But, despite that, I know you know that I don't mean to give offense and try my darndest to be even-handed in my shots.
"Can I tell you that, if I get elected, that puke Penwasser-and, by the way, I know your real name, AL-will be forced to stop making fun of me and my little hands.  Not to say I have little hands, mind you.  There's nothing wrong in that department, that I can promise you.  But, his slimy, sleazy, disgusting attacks will cease, that I can guarantee.  That I can guarantee.  I will build a wall around him so big-and get him to pay for it-that he will regret calling me Orange Julius.  Although, I love Orange Julius, to be honest, even you can only really find it at Dairy Queen, to be honest.  Which I love, even though it's Dairy Queen.  And I love their music.  And homosexuals, too.
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm, I could go for a Butterfinger Blizzard."
    This may not be so when it comes to Facebook or Twitter (Twitter more so, because I'm restricted to 140 characters).  Even though I think most of my Facebook followers know what kind of lunatic I am, some may get offended by what I post.

    So it was yesterday, when I posted the below:

I'd get one of these, but they never stay in my yard.
    Now, if you don't already know, many times I'm inspired by something I see out in the world (a court order allows me supervised interaction with the public).  Some things just strike me as wildly funny.

NOTE:  they may not strike YOU as wildly funny, though.  Well, look at you with your mental health and everything.

Like what Ken uses before a date with Barbie.
Yeah, I can be that silly.
    In any case, I'll usually post them fairly quickly (one of the reasons Mrs. Penwasser doesn't like me to walk around with a cell phone camera) and wait for the guffaws to commence.  At no time do I wish to cause offense or post something in poor taste (wellllll......poor taste is probably subjective).

    When I posted the Wandering Jew picture, I was initially worried that someone may take it in an anti-Semitic fashion.  Not my intent.  
    In fact, I wish it was a "Wandering Methodist" instead.

    But since comedy, like Rosie O'Donnell in a thong or naked Whoopi Goldberg, isn't pretty, I went ahead.
    Within minutes, though, I got this...

Despite it all, like Grandma, this guy is comedy gold
    Now I know the person didn't think I was making a racist joke (actually, bigoted.  I learned the difference a couple weeks ago.  That will be the subject of a future post) and was being funny himself.  

      However, I worried that some other person in my Facebook orbit (not all as hip and cool as you) may think I was making a "Jewish Jibe."

NOTE:  this may sound like a cliche in a "some of my best friends are black" kinda way, but the first Mrs. Penwasser was Jewish.  Luckily for her, she came to her senses and dumped me like a week-old plate of gefilte fish.

      So, I deleted it.
    The moral of the story is to be conscious of your surroundings and don't post anything which may be misconstrued.  I don't give a tinker's fart about someone being "butt hurt," but I am genuinely concerned that I don't unintentionally hurt someone's feelings.

    Now, before you think I've gone all Alan Alda, Phil Donahue, or that kid in his jammies on you, never fear.  I know you know me. Penwasser Place will remain the same.
"Well, that's just great!
I guess this means no little marshmallows for my cocoa!"

    And, incidentally, my Facebook won't change all that much.
After all, I just posted a note about how I received an "Erect On Demand" email.

    How's that for a tease to be a follower?

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Captain Caption CXIX

Ibrahim Ibn Al-Youseff finds out his 72 virgins will be
drawn  from Dearborn, Michigan area Star Trek Fan Clubs

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

The Wrath of Ken Goes Metric

Well, there's five minutes you'll never get back.

Monday, September 12, 2016

The Morning After

September 12, 2001
Naval Air Station
Keflavik, Iceland

Sunday, September 11, 2016

The Day the World Changed

My apologies to those who've read this repost.

"Where were you when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor?"    
Despite jibes from my kids, I'm not that old.  In fact, my mother wasn't even in kindergarten yet.

     But, I can answer these...
    "Where were you when John Kennedy was assassinated?"
    "Where were you when Robert Kennedy was murdered?"
    "Where were you when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was martyred?" 
    "Where were you when John Lennon was killed?"
    "Where were you when Ronald Reagan was shot?"
    "Where were you when the Challenger exploded?"

    and, perhaps most tragically, I knew exactly where I was when the world changed forever...  
All my friends wanted to do was put in a day at work.
And then go home to see their families.

    It was just before one o’clock in the afternoon on September 11th (a sad commentary: we don’t even need to identify the year anymore) when my maintenance supervisor stuck his head into my room to wake me.

    “Sir, someone just flew a plane into the World Trade Center.”

    Minutes later, I watched, horrified, as a second plane struck the South tower.  And then, as both of the monstrously huge structures tumbled to the ground as if kicked by a petulant child.

    My unit and I were participating in a multi-nation exercise at the Naval Air Station in Keflavik, Iceland (this explains why it was the afternoon).  A round-the-clock operation, the Keflavik Tactical Exchange gave us a unique chance to evaluate each other’s capabilities should we ever needed to flex our respective militaries.  Little did we know that we were preparing for a type of war which belonged to the past.

    Because the 21st Century came roaring into our lives on that late summer day.

    Naturally, the exercise was immediately cancelled.  Foreign aircrews (funny that I call them “foreign” since we were actually foreigners, too) beat hasty returns to their home bases.  We were told that American airspace was closed for an indefinite time.

    Station security forces went into their highest readiness posture.  Watch teams at the main gate beefed up, rings of barbed wire cordoned off perceived sensitive areas, and armed patrols roamed the perimeter.

    My watch teams and I, on the other hand, remained at our billeting.  Only in Iceland for the exercise, we were considered non-essential personnel who’d only get in the way.

    And so we spent the next few days.

    I received a worried phone call from my wife during this time.  She fretted over my safety.  I assured her that I was fine, but omitted the fact that I was more concerned for her and the kids.

    You see, my family lives only a couple hours from New York and only a few from Washington.

    The ensuing few days was a frantic search for whatever updates we could glean from the news and how in the world we’d get ourselves and thousands of pounds of equipment back home.

    Most importantly, we desperately wanted to know how we could get into the fight.  Whatever the fight was.

    Four days later, U.S. airspace was opened to military traffic.  As I glanced through the window of the Navy patrol plane which took us home, I was struck at how empty the sky was-with the exception of the one plane which approached us as we crossed into the United States.  It came no closer than a few miles before it disappeared.

    I think it was a fighter aircraft.

    What’s more, the radio circuits, normally full of the cacophony of countless air traffic controllers, were eerily silent.  The only ones “on the air” were the handful which guided us home.  All else were hushed into silence.

    Our route of flight took us just south of Manhattan, well out of sight of land.  At that distance, even at the altitude at which we were flying, it was impossible to see any of the city skyline.

    But, we did see a huge pall of gray-brown smoke lingering in the air like the death shroud that it was.

    As we touched ground at the air station we called home, there was nobody to greet us.  There was really not much of anything by way of an acknowledgment that we were back.  Somehow, it seemed fitting.

    After all, we all had something much more important to do.

    Go home to our families.

In memory of:
Commander Bill Donovan, USN

AW1 (NAC/AW) Joseph Pycior, USN

and the thousands whose only crime was going to work that day. 

Saturday, September 10, 2016

September 10, 2001

Eighteen murderers will board airplanes in twelve hours.

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Captain Caption CVIII

Yearly physical complete, I'm clean as a whistle.  Inside and out.
NOTE:  You may not want to use that particular whistle.

Monday, September 5, 2016


NOTE:  This may not be accurate.
That Google Search thing can be funny.

Funny how?
Like a clown?
Am I here to amuse you?"

Friday, September 2, 2016

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Grandma!!!

    For those of you unfortunate enough to be one of my followers on Facebook (you just can't get enough, can you?), I'm sure you've seen this.  Unless you missed it.  In that case, why are you following me on Facebook?  Hey, the comedy's free.

"But, it sucks!  NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!!"

    In any case, I decided to post this string of what I've come to call a comedy comic strip.  I figured that since I had nothing else to write about I would spread my warpedness (NOTE: NOT a real word) around the globe.
    Meanwhile, in Australia...

"Oh, bloody hell.
Well, whatever you do, don't send us Trump."

    I've changed the wording a little bit.  So, all you poor bastards loyal followers can still get fresh comedy.

"Which SUCKS!!
"GRANDMA!?  Just who in the hell does that little freak Penwasser think he is?
All I can say is he better check the bottom of his car every morning."

"Cool!  I could use someone to work on my car."

"For cryin' out lo...can you be a bigger idiot?  That's not what she meant!
Incidentally, I think she's on to you making fun of her pantsuits."

"What about your 'Pin the Horns on Hillary' game in the Oval Office?"

Today's post was brought to you by the official sponsor of Clinton For President 2016.
"You Can Depend on Hillary!"