Friday, August 03, 2007

Au revoir, les enfants...

I think that’s French for either “Goodbye Children” or “The reservoir is no place for elephants”. In any case, the point is that I’m going to be taking an extended break from blogging, to try and knock off some of the things on my ever growing to do list. Here are just the top five items:

1. Try to convince QVC that my “Origumi” sculptures (small animal figurines that I make from used chewing gum) could be the next big thing. Failing that, auctioning them off on eBay.

2. Finish writing my three volume, unauthorized biography of Orville Redenbacher, tentatively titled “Popcorn Merchant…Sex Machine”.

3. Find out why my coffee machine is making noises that sound like a cross between the wailing of damned souls and a Humpback whale passing a kidney stone and whether or not it just needs to be repaired or taken to an exorcist.

4. Paint a large mural honoring great tambourine players like Davy Jones and…uh…um…

5. Find someone who can name at least two other famous tambourine players.

As you might imagine, I’m anxious to get started, but before I go I’d like to thank HollyGL, Diesel, Jenna, Neva, Jaesoreal, Lord Likely, Paul "FooDaddy" Brand and BrentD for being regular readers of this here blog. If I may paraphrase an old Fleetwood Mac song…You make blogging fun.

TDB

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Wednesday, July 25, 2007

AntisocialCommentary Release Party

I simply can’t tell you how many people have come up to me and asked if I knew where they could buy a funny book. Ok... it was just one person…one really old guy at a bus stop. At least, I think that’s what he said…he might have actually mumbled something about me standing on his foot, but my bus had arrived and I was off.

What was I talking about now? Oh right, books! It turns out I do know where to buy a funny book and it was written by our good friend and fellow blogger Diesel, over at Mattress Police.

It’s a collection of the best of his blog and bonus material you can only get with the book. According to Diesel, “AntisocialCommentary: From the Secret Files of the Mattress Police” will be published on August 15, but for a limited time you can pre-order a signed copy at a significantly discounted price.

So, hurry on down to Mattress Police and order yourself a copy. Then if some old geezer asks you where he can find a funny book, you can let him have it. The information, not the book…let him buy his own damn copy.



Friday, July 20, 2007

"He's a page right out of history"...













By now you’ve all probably seen those Geico commercials featuring those often offended cavemen and you’ve probably also heard the rumors that they will be getting their own TV show.


Well, while the world waits with baited breath for that epic television event, I’ve been lucky enough to snag an interview with the original Stone Age star, the one and only, Fred Flintstone…

TDB: Welcome Fred, and thanks for stopping by.

FF: Yabba Dabba…

TDB: Let me stop you right there Fred. I talked to some people at Hanna-Barbera, and it turns out you can’t use that phrase in any public forum.

FF: But that was my catch phrase…I came up with that!

TDB: Yeah, but your contract at the time gave them all rights to anything connected to the show, you know “intellectual property” and all that. It’s kind of technical, so don’t worry your little Stone Age head about it.

FF: Look, can we just get this over with? I’ve got to call my lawyer!

TDB: Ha ha, there’s the old hotheaded Fred we all remember. So Fred, as the first “caveman” to make it big on television, are you pleased by the success of your prehistoric brethren?

FF: Not really…let me set you straight on a couple of things blog-boy. First of all, I’m pretty sure those guys are Neanderthals, while I’m Cro-Magnon all the way baby! I didn’t even know there were any of those mouth breathers still around.

TDB: Well, we were all a little surprised by that. Some scientists say that there was a lot of interbreeding between the two groups…any truth to that?

FF: Yeah, there was some, but not me. Personally, I find excessive body hair and large ridge brows a real turn off, but Barney Rubble didn’t seem to mind it. Of course, you could say that old Barney never met a species he didn’t “like”…if you know what I mean.

TDB: I think I do…and thanks for burning that image into my brain.

FF: Anyway, another thing that’s different about these guys is that they all seem to be college educated, white-collar types and they’re always having some kind of hissy fit. On our show we were blue-collar guys who wanted nothing more out of life than to come home after a hard days work, bang the wife and then go bowling…it was beautiful.

TDB: Well, especially when you’ve got a wife that looks like Wilma, eh? Now that I think about it, you’re one in a long series of TV husbands who benefited from what I call the “Ralph Kramden” factor. You know, loud, obnoxious fat guys with inexplicably hot wives. First there was Jackie Gleason, then you and now there are guys like Jim Belushi and Kevin James…it’s really kind of bizarre.

FF: (awkward pause) How would you like a knuckle sandwich, pal?!

TDB: Easy there big guy, watch your blood pressure. Why don’t you fill us in on the rest of the cast. How are they?

FF: Dead, mostly. Barney was the fist to go, but at least they named an entire wing after him at the Bedrock VD Clinic and Research Facility. Betty died next after years of working as a conservationist. With her it was always, save the Mastodon, save the Saber Toothed tiger or save the Dodo. Crazy broad…never could pick a winner.

Wilma is a widow living in Florida, where she puts on a weekly burlesque show at the Old Soldiers Home.

TDB: And the kids on the show?

FF: Well, Pebbles grew up and married the head of some cult and was never heard from again. Bamm-Bamm fell into a life of crime, killed someone and was sent to the gas chamber.

TDB: You had the gas chamber way back then?

FF: Yeah, he was put into a windowless room with a Wooly Mammoth that had been fed nothing but beans and cabbages for a week…

TDB: I should have seen that coming. Fred…it’s been great talking to you, any final thoughts?

FF: Yeah…Yabba Dabba...

TDB: FRED!!


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Friday, July 06, 2007

I beg your pardon...

As far as this blog goes, I tend to avoid politics like the plague. However, occasionally a bit of political news filters through my defenses…I’m never happy about it, but it happens.

Take for example the recent news item about President Bush and whether he would or wouldn’t pardon some dude named “Scooter” Libby (turns out he didn’t, but he did commute his prison sentence).

Now, I have no idea why the president has that power or what induced him to use it in this particular case…other than he figured that a grown man going through life with a name like “Scooter" had been punished enough.


Anyway, according to my good friend the eminent scholar Monty Dingham Smythington, it turns out that the constitution gives the president other, rarely heard of powers as well. Here are just a few…


He can compel all citizens to bathe once a year, whether they need it or not. (Hey, they had different ideas about hygiene back then)

In case of a nation wide famine the president reserves the right to resort to cannibalism, but the victims, thereafter to be known as “sacrificial patriots”, must be chosen from his own political party.

In the event of an invasion by a foreign power, the president can commandeer any and all horses, carriages and women’s clothing necessary to get him to safely to Canada. Unless of course that foreign power is Canada…stop laughing, it could happen.

The president can preside over any trial in which the defendant or plaintiff is a “saucy tavern wench”. (It’ seems that Ben Franklin insisted on that one)

He can force all members of congress to take part in a rousing game of “Simon says”, the loser of which has to mow the White House lawn.

And finally, the president is the one and only, “official bikini inspector” of these United States. (Most scholars think that this one wasn’t originally part of the constitution, but was written in by someone during the Kennedy administration)


You know, sometimes you just have to wonder if the “founding fathers” might have been wearing their wigs a little too tight.


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Saturday, June 30, 2007

What's really going on here

As a doting uncle, I’ve probably been exposed to more children’s television than is healthy for a normal adult brain. Of course, in my case it is also probably true that I have less to lose in that regard than most people do.

Be that as it may, some of these TV shows, innocuous though they may seem, raise some perplexing and even disturbing questions…


SpongeBob SquarePants: Ok, I get it, he lives in a pineapple under the sea…but does he own or rent? Also, despite being surrounded by fish, the main characters on this show are a sponge, a starfish and a squid…so, is this program being used to push the invertebrate agenda? Just what do they have against backbones?




Dora the Explorer: Exactly who is funding all this “exploring” anyway? Is it the oil companies? Is she part of some kind of covert CIA operation? Or is this show some kind of allegory about the evils of colonialism and if so, what the hell does the blue monkey symbolize?






Teletubbies: The most obvious question here is…what the hell are these things? Are they mentally challenged aliens? Or are they someone’s idea of what human beings will be like after another million years or so of sitting on the couch watching television? In either case, why does the sun have a laughing baby’s head in the middle of it? And did anyone remember to put sunscreen on the baby?



I posed these questions to my youngest niece, a sharp-witted little lass of five, who I think knows more than she lets on. Her only response was to smile at me and turn back to her program. Oh, she’s crafty all right.


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Friday, June 22, 2007

Play that funky music...

The kind and charming HollyGL over at Remedial Rumination recently posted a meme about songs that have made an impact on her life. I don’t do the meme thing myself, but I was inspired enough by her post to take a look back at some of the songs that have made me (and I use the term loosely) the man I am today…


The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze” as performed by The International Silver String Submarine Band: Or as they were better known, the Little Rascals. Although I’m not sure when during that long malaise that was my childhood I first heard this song, I never forgot it.

This performance had it all: shabbily dressed urchins playing homemade instruments and singing off-key, a catchy tune and lyrics about some lecherous aerial acrobat who’s out to steal your girl. What more could a music loving kid ask for?


Kung Fu Fighting” by Carl Douglas: I think I was just starting junior high school when this song came out. Whenever it played on the radio my pals and I, suffering no doubt from some sort of hormonally induced brain damage, would start to flail spastically about, performing what we were convinced were genuine kung fu moves. What a time it was…the joy…the laughter…the broken bones.


"Muskrat Love" by Captain & Tennille: Unfortunately, not every song had a positive impact. After all, in life you have to take the bad with the good and for me this song was as bad as it gets. The cloying melody filled my ears as the saccharine lyrics burned an image of horny aquatic rodents into my brain that would take years of therapy to remove.


"Funky Cold Medina" by Tone Lōc: Probably the greatest song about a transsexual since the Kinks recorded “Lola” way back when…ok, it’s probably the only song about a transsexual since “Lola”. No wait…I forgot about Aerosmith’sDude Looks Like A Lady”, although to be honest, when I first heard that song I thought Steven Tyler was actually singing about himself.

Anyway, in "Funky Cold Medina" there’s a line that goes ‘I don't fool around with no Oscar Meyer wiener’ and why no rival hot dog company ever used that in a commercial is something I’ll never understand.


"Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix-a-Lot: This could be the most personally meaningful song on the list for me. When I heard Sir Mix-a-Lot utter that immortal line ‘I like big butts and I can not lie’…it was like he was reading from my diary.


Whew! I think I need to go lie down… these trips down memory lane are exhausting.


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Sunday, June 17, 2007

Curious seekers...

It’s time once again to take a look at what people were searching for when they wound up here in the land of the drive-by blogger. To be honest, I think I get more enjoyment out of this than anyone else, but here goes…

Jack the necrophiliac: The part of the nursery rhyme you hadn’t heard. I guess climbing up a hill to fetch a pail of water wasn’t’ Jack’s only passion.

Olympic boinking icon: Who knew that this was an Olympic event, let alone what the icon for it is. Gold medal, bronze medal, who the hell cares…just tell me where the tryouts are being held.

Cyanide pie: I’d bet my last dollar that it was Martha Stewart who typed those words. The judge who sentenced her to prison might want to avoid baked goods for a while…I’m telling you this woman never forgets.

Average life span of sumo wrestler: Well, lets’ put it this way, I’m pretty sure that unlike baseball, there’s no “Old Timer’s Day” in sumo wrestling.

World record largest bowel movement: I don’t have any exact numbers on this, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it involved one of the aforementioned sumo wrestlers.

Alternate uses for a motorcycle helmet: Lets see…a hot tub for hamsters, an ashtray, a some what leaky Jell-O mold…oh, the possibilities are endless.

Naked druid priestess: Probably someone from the “Dungeons & Dragons” crowd surfing for porn.

Cat Stevens half eaten sandwich: I couldn't figure out if this was a search for a Cat Stevens song called “Half eaten sandwich” or if someone was looking to buy an actual sandwich that Cat Stevens didn’t get to finish. This may haunt me forever.

The howler monkey’s enemy: Anyone who has ever heard the song “Daydream Believer”, no wait…wrong group of monkey’s.

Strudel sayings: When you start to believe baked goods have the ability to speak, you’ve probably “over medicated” yourself.


By the way, a while back I wrote a post a TV show called ““Man Vs Wild” starring survivalist Bear Grylls and ever since there has been a barrage of people searching for nude photos of the man. So, if you’re reading this Mr. Grylls (hey, it could happen) I just wanted you to know that if the TV thing doesn’t work out, you’ve probably got a good future as a male stripper.

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Monday, June 11, 2007

In your dreams...

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I am a certified dream analyst and I used to write a column called “Ask the Dream Doctor” for the now defunct magazine “The House of Morpheus”.

I thought that today I would share just a few of the many letters I used to receive from troubled dreamers all over the country…

Dear Dream Doctor: In my dream I’m standing in the doorway of my bathroom when I notice an ant in the middle of the bathtub. Suddenly, I find myself shrinking and being pulled towards the tub. Finally, I’m face to face with the ant, the tub around us looking like a gleaming porcelain desert.

The ant begins to speak and says, “You know, that abrasive cleanser you use is scratching the hell out of this bathtub!” It’s at that point I wake up, feeling confused and slightly embarrassed. Can you shed some light on this?

Betty from Peoria

Dear Betty, if I were a person with a strong spiritual or mystical outlook, I might suggest that this was some kind of coded message from your ancestors…but since I’m not, I think it just means you shouldn’t fall asleep while watching infomercials!


Dear Dream Doctor: I keep having the same recurring dream. It starts off with me in a train that keeps going in and out of the same tunnel again and again. Then suddenly, I’m straddling a huge rocket or missile just as it starts to blast off. Finally, I’m on the beach, watching as wave after wave pounds the shore, then I wake up soaked in sweat. Anyway, I don’t have a clue what this dream is about…can you help?

Dave from Atlanta

Dear Dave, so…you have no idea what this dream is about? Really…none at all? Well…uh, lets see…the part about the train means you’d like to travel, the rocket part could be about your concerns for national security. And the pounding waves likely has to do with…uh, surfing.

Now, do me a favor and drop whatever you’re doing and go take a really cold shower. In fact take several…every day...probably for the rest of your life.


Dear Dream Doctor: Yeah, I got one for ya. I had this dream about this deadbeat who likes to bet on the horses. Problem is, he ain’t so good at payin’ what he owes. Anyway, the dream ends with this dirtbag disappearing inside a sausage factory in New Jersey… capice?

Vinny from Hoboken

Dear Vinny, Yes, I understand your “dream” perfectly. I just need a little more time to “interpret” it for you and I can promise you’ll never have that dream again…I swear.


Ironically enough, it was Vinny himself who wound up disappearing. The newspapers said no one knew what had happened to him…but I avoided sausages for a long time anyway.

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Thursday, June 07, 2007

Central Snark...

Hey, if you're looking for me I'm guest posting over at CENTRAL SNARK. A great blog run by some very nice people, so come on over and read about Mother Nature's kinky side.

Monday, June 04, 2007

It's good to be the king...

Not long ago I was reading about young Prince Harry and it started me thinking about the history of the British monarchy. I immediately took my medication, but to no avail…the thought was stuck in my head.

Anyway, long before they started using numbers, you know, Henry II or Henry VIII, it was common for kings to be known by a nickname. As you might have guessed, some of these nicknames were of the self-aggrandizing variety, like Alfred the Great, Richard the Lion Hearted and so on.

However, some kings didn’t do as well in the nickname department. Take for example, Ethelred the Unready, Sweyn Forkbeard or Harold Harefoot. Now, I thought those were pretty interesting, but I was certain there had to be more. So after a little digging, I compiled this list of not so illustriously nicknamed kings…


Ulrod the Incontinent

Caldor the Pigeon Toed

Harold the Queasy

Fredric the Emaciated

Edward the Squishy


Henry the Nutless (perhaps not surprisingly, he left no heirs to the throne)

Charles the Lice Ridden (was actually called that for only a short while before it was realized that everyone at that time was lice ridden)

Richard the Bootylicious


Ok, don’t quote me on that last one…I’m fairly certain it was at that point that the medication finally kicked in.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

And now a word from our sponsors...

As you might have guessed, the costs of maintaining a blog like this one are enormous…ok, so they’re also imaginary, but in my mind they are still enormous.

To help defray these expenses, it has become necessary to seek out corporate sponsorship and while I haven’t heard back yet from any of the Fortune 500 companies I’ve contacted, a couple of small but forward looking businesses have stepped into the breech. I hope you will patronize them whenever you can…







*I’ve been asked by the management of the Magic Fingers Massage Parlor to clarify that the “senior” discount mentioned applies only to patrons who receive a massage from Madge, who at 86 years young is their “senior” masseuse. They apologize for any confusion.


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Monday, May 21, 2007

The Jazz Age...

I was discussing language with my good friend the eminent scholar Monty Dingham Smythington…well, he was doing most of the talking…my contribution to the conversation consisted mainly in a valiant attempt to remain awake.

Anyway, he told me that while doing research for a book about the 1920’s, he had come across some fascinating examples of forgotten slang terms from that period. So, in keeping with the old adage misery loves company, I now inflict…I mean present them to you…


Crank up the Tin Lizzy: Meant either to start your automobile or to induce a state of sexual desire in one’s wife.

Like a flapper to hooch: This phrase could refer to a very strong attraction to something or the migration pattern of some unknown bird.

Don’t spit on my spats: I think this was either a warning not to be disrespectful or a literal reference to the ugliest footwear ever worn by man.

Twisting the Kaiser’s sausage: During the 20’s this phrase was used mostly by veterans of WWI and described either a great victory over your enemy or possibly a sex act performed by European prostitutes.

I’d like to Rudolph her Valentino: A statement of lecherous intent inspired by the popularity of the silent film star, this phrase was a favorite of drunken college students of the time.

A Charleston chippy: This could be either a young woman of easy virtue obsessed by the famed dance craze or an injury to the ankle caused by said dance craze.


zzzzzz…huh? Oh, sorry. Thank you Monty, that was enthralling, old boy. I can hardly wait to read your next book: “The Cultural Impact of Facial Hair on the Office of the Presidency”.


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Friday, May 18, 2007

Fans to the end...and beyond.

It’s no secret that merchandising is a part of sports, but it appears that baseball is taking it to another level. A company called Eternal Image has made a deal with Major League Baseball to sell urns and coffins that feature the logos and colors of all 30 teams.

Since it is pretty clear that Major League Baseball will put its brand on just about anything, I have a few suggestions of my own…

Condoms: If you’re not looking to add any new “players” to your home team, just remember to cover your “Louisville slugger” with one of these and it’s “off to the old ballgame!” Available in three sizes: Homerun king, Utility player and Batboy.

Fertilizer: Want your lawn to look as green as centerfield? Then try Major League Baseball brand industrial strength fertilizer. Made from the droppings of only the finest steroid filled cows, this crap will grow grass on concrete.

Ski masks: Baseball is basically a warm weather sport, but when winter comes and you’re ready to hit the slopes you can still show your love for the game by wearing a ski mask emblazoned with the logo of your favorite team. And if someone should decide to rob a liquor store while wearing one, well as they say, there’s no such thing as bad publicity.


Cereal
: Oatmeal and fruit might be ok for soccer loving foreigners, but if you want your children to have the energy they need for little league baseball, then pour them a heaping bowl of “Frosted Golden Glovies”. The cereal that’s 98 percent pure sugar and 2 percent of some other edible substance*


*“Frosted Golden Glovies” has been known to cause comas in children under the age of five.


Ah yes, crass commercialism…now there is a great national pastime.


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Saturday, May 12, 2007

A few scattered thoughts...

No, that rattling sound you hear isn’t ball bearings in a coconut shell, its just a few random musings jostling each other for space in the limited real estate that is my brain. Read on and I’ll shake a few loose for you…


These days the word “whacked” is used as a euphemism for a murder committed by the mob. In the 1940’s it was “rubbed out” (at least according to old gangster films). What I’d like to know is did they have a meeting to decide on this and more importantly, why do both terms seem to have masturbatory connotations?

To help out first time parents, someone should manufacture diapers with some kind of color-coded warning system. For example, the diaper might turn blue if it’s just wet, orange for an ordinary bowel movement and if it turns neon green, you might want to break out the biohazard suits.

Judging from the women who star in the shows “The Ghost Whisperer” an “Medium” there seems to be a link between paranormal ability and large breasts. Clearly, this requires more research…and I’m ready to do my part.

Fettuccine Alfredo, Eggs Benedict, Beef Wellington…I don’t care what it tastes like, food named after people just creeps me out.

I bet you could probably make a lot of money by using disappearing ink to tattoo people who have a fear of commitment but still want to be trendy.

Have you ever noticed how sometimes someone will combine two words to form an entirely new one, like infotainment or advertorial? Well, I think I’ve come up with one that could catch on: poshtitute. It would be used to refer to only the most expensive hookers available.

A word of advice to the GEICO company: in those commercials with the perpetually offended cavemen, you might want to add a few cavewomen or people might start talking…if you know what I mean.

Someone should find out if there’s a market for a Braille edition of the game “Twister


Well, I gotta run, if I’m more than 10 minutes late, my electroshock therapist charges me double.

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Sunday, May 06, 2007

Helping others to help themselves...

While wandering around aimlessly through cyberspace I came across a site called wikiHow, which describes itself as “The How-To Manual That Anyone Can Write or Edit”.

Among other things, at this site you can learn how to camp out in the rain, live with an elderly person or celebrate Earthday. Now, I’ve no idea why anyone would want to do any of those things, but disseminating information of dubious value is right up my alley, so here’s a list of articles that I’m thinking about writing that will tell you how to:


Housebreak a badger


Polish your uvula

Perform an emergency appendectomy using only a steak knife and a pair of salad tongs

Have your in-laws declared “enemy combatants” and shipped off to Guantanamo Bay

Turn your child’s old chemistry set into a whiskey still

Harvest earwax for fun and profit

Covert that useless old collection of vinyl records into a lovely coffee table

Iron your clothes while still wearing them

Cure a bad case of crabs with Tabasco sauce and sawdust

Cook a Thanksgiving Day turkey with a car battery


Well, I guess I better get started on these articles…anyone know where I can find a badger?

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Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Shaken, not stirred...

I was reading about Daniel Craig, the actor who has taken over the role of James Bond and it started me thinking about the old Bond films and how bizarre some of their titles were. So much so in fact, that someone who was completely unfamiliar with the 007 movies could easily be excused for thinking that…


Goldfinger is a comedy about the world’s richest proctologist

Octopussy is a porno film for people with a fetish for cephalopods

Moonraker is a documentary about smuggling illegal immigrants into space

The Man with the Golden Gun is a cautionary tale about someone who knows much more about accumulating wealth than he does the manufacturing of quality firearms

Dr. No is about US physicians who oppose socialized medicine

You Only Live Twice is about some kind of abridged, Reader’s Digest version of reincarnation

The Spy Who Loved Me is a CIA recruitment film

Thunderball doesn’t even sound like a film title as much as it does a really painful testicular condition


Well, if all that doesn’t get Ian Fleming spinning in his grave, I don’t what will.


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Saturday, April 28, 2007

The greatest show on earth...

The gentleman in the photograph goes by the name of Bello. He is appearing with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus in a show called “Bellobration”. Now, judging from his bizarre haircut and the fact that he is apparently some kind of clown/acrobat daredevil, I was wondering if this had anything to do with the popularity of the Cirque du Soleil.

They also have people with weird hair doing strange combinations of things and they’ve been very successful…maybe too successful for even the biggest of traditional circuses to ignore.

If so, I just want the people at Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey to know that I’m here to help. It just so happens that in my spare time I am the business manager of several world class, cutting edge circus acts, all of whom happen to be “between engagements”. For a very reasonable price I can make available to them performers like…

Lars Nostrom the Frozen Swordfish Swallower: Lars began his career in Sweden as a conventional sword swallower before coming up with the brilliant idea of using a live swordfish instead. While recovering from the operation to repair the lacerations to his throat he came up with the even better idea of using only frozen swordfish instead.

Gunter Holbein, Extreme Lion Tamer: Audiences will be stunned and amazed as this dashing Teutonic tamer of big cats puts his lions through their paces armed only with a feather duster, while wearing a suit made entirely from beef. In Berlin his show was held over for an additional six weeks…ok, actually it was just Gunter that was held for six weeks and that was for a court ordered psychiatric evaluation, but he’s available now!

The Amazing Borini Family, the World’s Only Blind Trapeze Act: Hailing from a small mountain village straddling the border of Italy and France, all the members of this family have been blind as far back as anyone can remember. They seem to have developed some kind of echo locating ability unique to themselves…ok, really they’re just yelling at each other constantly, but it seems to work…most of the time.

Bippy Leather Stockings: This mysterious clown from parts unknown is a clinically diagnosed schizophrenic with sadomasochistic tendencies who always gets howls of laughter as he whips himself with a cat-o' nine tails while begging himself not to stop...always a favorite with the kids.

Just imagine all those acts under one roof…now that’s entertainment.


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Wednesday, April 25, 2007

A little pondering and a little pandering...

Generally speaking, I don’t consider myself to be an idiot, but there are many things in the world that I do not understand, many things that puzzle and befuddle me. Here are a few of the questions that have recently been crawling around the junkyard of my mind…

How was it that Albert Einstein was smart enough to come up with the theory of relativity but apparently couldn’t figure out how to use a comb?

Why don’t animal species in which the males can lick their own “private parts” quickly become extinct? Because I’m pretty sure if human males ever develop that ability that’s exactly what will happen.

Why life doesn’t come with a soundtrack? I mean, even the dullest existence could be made more bearable with the right music.

Do the people who make picket signs have a union and if they go on strike what do they carry while picketing?

Aren’t casinos really just weight loss centers for your wallet?

Do werewolves have to deal with flea and tick infestation…and does anyone make a collar for that?

Will Alec Baldwin’s angry tirade at his daughter keep him from ever landing that most prestigious of all hosting gigs…Nickelodeon's Kid Choice Awards?

Did anyone but me think that MC Escher was a rapper from Europe?

Black holes, wormholes…who would have thought that the universe would so closely resemble a hunk of Swiss cheese?

Why didn’t edible underwear ever become a part of everyone’s daily wardrobe? Oh wait, I do understand that one…ewww!

By the way, my fellow blogger Diesel, over at Mattress Police, is having a caption contest and yours truly is in the running. So if you are so inclined head over there and have a gander and maybe even vote…for um, you know, whoever.


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Saturday, April 21, 2007

Well, I'll be a monkey's...

Recently, I was completely surprised by an article that said that the chimpanzee that played “Cheetah” in the old Tarzan movies was still alive and had just turned 75 years old…75!

If you had asked me prior to this how long chimps usually live, I might have guessed 40 or 50 years, 60 at the absolute most, but not 75. Anyway, why would you be asking me…who am I, Jane Goodall?

Just think of all the things this geriatric simian has seen... World War Two, the moon landing and the Chia Pet. I wonder if he bores his grandchildren with stories about how tough things were when he was just a chimpling…chimpet? Whatever the hell you call a very young chimp. Or does he view the past through rose colored bifocals and go on and on about how much bigger and sweeter bananas were in his day.

Maybe someone should hire a pet psychic to “interview” him and find out if he has any great stories about the golden age of Hollywood, or if he has any response to those rumors about his alleged attraction to men in loincloths.

No…I suppose it would be best just to leave this elderly, hirsute thespian to his memories. I just hope that the people who give out the Oscars have taken note and are preparing some kind of lifetime achievement award or at least a star on that Hollywood walk of fame, I mean after all, they just gave one to Eric Estrada…Happy Birthday Cheetah!

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Sunday, April 15, 2007

Stormy weather...

From time to time, I like to look back in time and honor the great, unsung heroes of history. People like Le Petomane and Nicholas Cugnot or the man we are focusing on today, Jonas Hanway.

This brave soul was the first man to walk around carrying an umbrella at a time when only women used them.

Like all people who break down barriers, Hanway at first met with a lot of resistance. Especially from the Hackney coachmen (the taxi drivers of their day) who feared that if this idea caught on it might hurt their business. Here now are a few excerpts from a journal that Hanway kept during those tumultuous days…


March 3, 1750, 9:00 am:
I think the modifications that I’ve made to turn a parasol into a rainproof device are complete. My “umbrella” as I call it is ready for testing on the streets of London. Never again will powdered wigs, make up and silk stockings be ruined by inclement weather…and I guess women may find it useful as well.

March 3, 1750, 9:03 am:
Apparently, the modifications were not complete. I seem to have underestimated the bloody wind! I’d not taken three steps from my home when a sudden gust ripped from my hand. I had to chase it for six blocks and wrest it away from a couple of filthy street urchins, one of whom tried to bite me. It’s a good thing that teeth are scarce among the lower class or I might have been injured.

Clearly, I need to improve the handle, but I’m not discouraged because I believe that this idea is one for which the people of this nation will be forever thankful.

March 5, 1750, 4:02 pm:
Bloody ungrateful bastards! Mindless fools! Everywhere I went I was greeted by derision and laughter. From one end of London to the other it was “Lovely parasol, my lady!” or “Afraid you might melt in the rain? Made of sugar are we?”

The most egregious affront to my dignity was delivered by a boorish group of Hackney coachmen. Tomorrow, I plan to seek them out and teach them a proper lesson!

March 8, 1750, 11:00 am:
Finally back from the hospital. The resident proctologist said he had seen a few parasol injuries before, but never one lodged quite so far up in the human body. He also said that if it had opened I would have been a goner for sure.

This act of violence against my person shall not deter me. I will not stop until I have secured the right of every man in England to carry an umbrella without the risk of be insulted or injured…I will prevail!


And so he did. Eventually, his efforts to make it acceptable for men to carry umbrellas were a success. His follow up campaign to bring back the over sized codpiece…not so much.


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Thursday, April 12, 2007

Talk is cheap...

I hate “talk radio”…I always have. It doesn’t matter what’s being talked about, politics, sports or automotive repair, I just wish it would all go away.

This recent incident with Don Imus is just further proof that “talk radio” is the work of the Devil…or at least one of his higher ranking demons. I mean, you’ve got to have some seniority to unleash that kind of evil on the world. Anyway, the only sound that should ever emanate from a radio is music…just the way the God Apollo intended.

So since Imus has apparently lost his radio job the question now becomes what will replace it? If the station insists on going with something other than music, I have listed a few things that I would rather hear than “talk radio”…


A dozen or so flatulent gorillas

The mournful wailing of the eternally damned

The hacking coughs of a room full of four- pack-a-day cigarette smokers

The complete works of Shakespeare as performed by the surviving cast members of the original “Star Trek” series

The incessant buzzing of a swarm of West Nile virus carrying mosquitoes (actually, this might be to close too talk radio as it already exists)

A series of lectures by James Lipton on the contribution made to the art of acting by the girl who played “Tootie” on the TV show “The Facts of Life”

Every book on tape ever recorded…played backwards.

The mating call of a Bull Moose during the height of the rutting season ( If the station can’t find a recording of this I can do a fair imitation for them…what? I can’t have a hobby?)


I may hate “talk radio” but I like humor-blogs.com

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Try and try again...

Once upon a time, in a more ambitious phase of my life, I pursued my fifteen minutes of fame by trying to set a new world record…any record would do. As you might have guessed from the obscurity in which I dwell, I never did accomplish my goal, but I have jotted down a few of my more memorable attempts…

Long distance tobacco juice spitting: This turned out to be much harder than I thought it would be. A pathetic dribble down my chin was about all I could manage, but the chewing tobacco did make me so sick I almost set an new world record…for projectile vomiting.

Hamster juggling: I never even got to make my attempt at this one because of two elderly women from PETA who assaulted me with their protest signs.

Speed tattooing: I thought I had a real shot at this record, but then the volunteers I was tattooing got all picky about things like the quality of the drawing, wanting me to use clean needles and not hitting any major arteries…people can be so self-centered.

Envelope licking: I didn’t even get close to the record with this one. After just the third envelope, I suffered a tremendous paper cut across my tongue that required many stitches. Having forgotten to have any emergency medical staff on hand I was aided by an itinerate seamstress from the tiny nation of Bakstabia. Unfortunately, I think in her culture it means that we’re engaged.

Most consecutive hours without sleep: In retrospect, this was a bad idea from the beginning…I need my sleep. It also turns out that sleep deprivation can lead to hallucinations and when I started imagining that I was Salome doing the dance of the Seven Veils, my attempt was pretty much over.

I did get a goodnight’s sleep in jail though.

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Saturday, March 31, 2007

Just a few words before they go...

The final words of most famous historical figures went unrecorded or if they have come down to us, always seem to express a noble or brave sentiment. Being a skeptical sort of person I’ve always had doubts about this and after a lot of extensive research I am pleased to present to you the actual last words of some history’s most notable people…

George Washington: “You know, it really is true that I cannot tell a lie…but I did ‘choke the chicken’ every chance I could.”

Napoleon Bonaparte: “ They have finally managed to stop me, but at least I die knowing that the world will forever live in fear of French military might!”

Galileo Galilei: “Of all the wondrous discoveries I have made with my telescope, the most amazing of all is just how many women in this city get dressed with their window curtains wide open.”

John Wilkes Booth: “Huh…Lincoln? You mean that wasn’t the critic from the Times who wrote that I have ‘the stage presence of a bowl of oatmeal’? Oh, crap…”

Babe Ruth: “So many hookers…so little time.”

Christopher Columbus: “ The Niña, Pinta and Santa Maria…I mean, could the names of those ships be any gayer?”

Sigmund Freud: “Psychiatry, bah…I should have been a foot doctor like my momma wanted me to.”

Davy Crockett: “Seriously…if you guys bury me in this stupid hat, I swear to God I will come back and haunt you.”

Julius Caesar: “"You too, Brutus? You punk ass bitch!”

Alexander the Great: “Of course I’m dying young, you try living with the stress of being called the ‘Great’…thanks a lot mom and dad!”

Joan of Arc: “Do you smell smoke?”

William Shakespeare: “ Alas, ‘tis the hour of my death and verily I say to thee
How I devoutly wish that it was thou instead of me!”


Good old Willie…a poet to the bitter end.

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Sunday, March 25, 2007

Monkey business...

A group of chimpanzees was recently discovered in Senegal, making and using sharpened sticks to hunt small mammals with.

So far, no one seems alarmed by this…except perhaps our ever-vigilant Department of Homeland Security. There’s a rumor going around (or at least there will be if I have anything to say about it) that the DHS is looking into the possibility that terrorists are actually training these chimps to fight on their side against the West.

Let’s face it, when you’re main strategy involves suicide bombers, you’re going to start running low on people sooner or later. But it’s not just chimps, the DHS thinks that other primates may be used as well. Here’s a list of what the DHS believes we may be facing:

The Marmoset Slingshot Battalion

The Lemur Brass knuckle Division

The Capuchin monkey Blowgun Corps

The Orangutan Machete Strike Force

The Howler monkey Switchblade Regiment

The Baboon Baseball bat Squadron

Of course, the DHS doesn’t know for sure when attacks by these furry terrorists might begin, so when ever you find yourself at a circus, zoo or a pet store that sells “exotic” animals…stay alert!

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Big money...

While reading about a recent lottery that was worth about 370 million dollars, I began thinking of previous big money lotteries and how often it seems that the people who win them have no idea how to spend the money.

That would not be a problem for yours truly, so read on if you want to find out how to spend a fortune Drive-by Blogger style


Despite the facts that I don’t fish and I’ve been known to get seasick just from standing in a puddle, I would still buy the obligatory yacht. I’d just plant it on my enormous front lawn and use it as the world’s most luxurious mailbox.

The grounds around my fabulous estate will be guarded by rarely fed Komodo dragons and a gigantic TV monitor will continuously show videos of previous trespassers being eaten.

My mansion would actually be a group of connected buildings that spell out “poverty sucks” when seen from high above…say from the top of my radio tower for example. From which will emanate the sounds of my own radio station WTDB, where we play “whatever the hell I feel like…all the time!”

Using the power of my new found wealth I will drive Joan Rivers into bankruptcy and then hire her as part of my domestic staff, just so I can force her to dress in a burlap sack and then ask her several times a day “who are you wearing?”

I would gather together all of the leading Bigfoot “experts” and fund an expedition into the most remote wilderness in North America, with orders not to return until they’ve caught him. Not because I believe that Bigfoot exists…it will just be nice not to ever hear from any of those idiots again.

To everyone who lives in a five-mile radius of my mansion I would offer to pay for any and all plastic surgery. Should too many of my homely neighbors fail to accept my generous offer, I would then buy up all their houses and give them as gifts to young, aspiring actresses and fashion models…just doing my part to keep America beautiful.


Of course, before long I would probably be as broke as MC Hammer, but easy come, easy go…that’s just how I roll.

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Sunday, March 18, 2007

Celebrity spotlight...

Taking into account the profound historical substance of my Saint Patrick’s day post, I decided to keep things light and superficial today and there’s no better way to do that then checking out a little celebrity news…


The head of the Anglican Church in Trinidad and Tobago called Elton John the “Pied Piper” of homosexuality and wants to keep him off the West Indian Island nation.
"His visit to the island can open the country to be tempted towards pursuing his lifestyle," the archdeacon said.

Yes, because as everyone knows there’s nothing like an overweight, 59 year-old man with a bad toupee to illustrate the glamour of the gay lifestyle.


Comic book fans are mourning the death Captain America, who was gunned down by an assassin in "Captain America Vol. 5, No. 25. (ok, so he’s a fictional character, but he was still a celebrity…sort of)


Personally, I wouldn’t have picked that end for Captain America. I probably would have had him humped to death by the She-Hulk…but then I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.


Actor-comedian Sinbad had the last laugh after his Wikipedia entry announced he was dead, the performer said Thursday. When asked if he was upset about the mix-up, Sinbad, whose real name is David Adkins, just laughed. He has appeared in the films, "Houseguest”, "Jingle All the Way”, “First Kid” and “Good Burger”.

Oh, I see where the confusion is…with a resume like that it’s his career that died
.



Pete Rose said he bet on the Cincinnati Reds ``every night'' when he was the team's manager, rather than four times a week as Major League Baseball's all- time hit leader maintained for three years.


Rose denied betting on baseball for 15 years until he said in his book, ``My Prison Without Bars,'' that he confessed to Commissioner Bud Selig when he sought to have the ban lifted. He said he told the commissioner he bet on the Reds four or five times a week and only to win.


Hmm, lets see…doing something wrong, then lying about it and only telling the truth in the hope of gaining something from it? Forget baseball Pete, politics is where you belong.

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Friday, March 16, 2007

The Emerald Isle...

I have often been told that somewhere in our family’s history, lost in the mists of time, there was an Irishman. So, as Saint Patrick’s day approaches, I thought I would pay tribute to this mysterious ancestor of mine with a post about the patron saint of Ireland.

Since most people already know that he is said to have driven the snakes out of Ireland, here is a list of lesser-known facts about Saint Patrick…


He was in fact, the very first “Lord of the Dance”.

He instituted a height limit for leprechauns. Originally, they came in all sizes, but Saint Patrick soon realized that the bigger ones were just creepy.

He vanquished the last of the great pagan chieftains by beating him in a shamrock-eating contest.

For a while, Saint Patrick had a religious rival…a fellow by the name of McDour, but the rivalry ended when McDour was caught committing an unnatural act with his shillelagh and was excommunicated.

His valiant struggle to resist the charms of an extremely beautiful Druid priestess, was made much easier when he found out that her name when translated from ancient Gaelic meant “Scrotum Crusher”.

The idea for a parade in honor of Saint Patrick actually came from the man himself. As he explained at the time “Eh, modesty has never been my strong point.”


Now, if you’ll excuse me, in accordance with the customs set down by the Ancient Order of Semi- Hibernians, I must now go put on something green and listen to the music of Sinead O'Connor for an hour. It could be worse…it could be Enya.

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Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Searching high and low...but mostly low

Yes, it’s time once again to take a look at some of the more interesting search engine queries that have brought a few unwary travelers to my humble abode here in the blogosphere, during the last couple of months…

Bear Grylls nude: When I first wrote about this survival expert a while back, I wasn’t sure that many people would even know who he was. Apparently, there are many that do know and more than a few of them want to see him naked. I counted eleven separate searches, all involving some combination of the words, Bear Grylls, nude and photos.

For one seeker however, this was not specific enough, because they typed in the words “Bear Grylls penis”. Perhaps they were hoping that this particular part Grylls anatomy has it’s own website. Well, there are stranger things in cyberspace.

Lesbian nude meerschaum pipe: Remember, when the holiday season rolls around, it’s the perfect stocking stuffer for the horny, porn addicted pipe smoker on your Christmas list.

Man who discovered friction: I’ve never really thought of friction as something that was “discovered” by one man, but if it was, I’m pretty sure I know what he was doing at the time…if you know what I mean.

Hardy boys’ bondage: Sure, why not…as long as they solve the mystery, it’s all good.

Ponderous penis: Note the alliteration, this is the kind of phrasing you get when a poet searchs for Internet porn.

Drive by murder drawing: Driving, murdering and drawing? Man, I really envy people who can multi-task like that.


Not surprisingly perhaps, none of these people stayed for more than two or three seconds. I can picture them cursing me as they angrily click out…maybe the new motto for this blog should be “disappointing people since 2006”.

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Saturday, March 10, 2007

Silence is golden...

Charlie Chaplin was “The Little Tramp”, Buster Keaton was “The Great Stone Face” and “Fatty” Arbuckle was known as…well, “Fatty”. Yes, many of the legendary stars of silent era comedies had such nicknames, but there were others who are long since forgotten. So let us take a moment to remember such stars as…

The Merry Bigot: Brought to the screen by former vaudevillian actor Harry Smithson in 1919, “The Merry Bigot” never met a race or nationality he didn’t want to oppress…but always with a smile! Twice a winner of the then prestigious “Ku Klux Klan Komedy” award, Smithson made more than a dozen “Merry Bigot” films in three years. His career came to a sudden end in 1922, when he “mysteriously” disappeared while taking a stroll through Harlem.

Otto “Hiney” Hausen: Though actually born in Pennsylvania, Otto built up a substantial career by playing German soldiers, spies and even the Kaiser during the first world war. Since every film ended with Otto getting his behind soundly kicked, movie viewers started calling him “Hiney” and the name stuck.

All good things must end however and when the war was finally over, so was Otto’s career. An early victim of type casting, he wound up working as a waiter a “Wolfgang’s House of Schnitzel”, where for an extra large tip patrons were allowed to kick him…for old time’s sake.

The Bootleg Kids: A precursor to the “Little Rascals”, this group of lovable street urchins always managed to stay one step ahead of the law as they delivered bathtub gin to speakeasies in a very popular series of movies in the 1920’s.

The most popular of the kids were “Knuckles”, the wiry but scrappy enforcer, “Swishy”, the slightly effeminate, but tough as nails leader and “Jail Bait”, the only girl in the gang, who as a pubescent temptress sent more cinema villains to prison than the keystone cops ever did.

After the kids grew too old to play their roles they all went their separate ways. “Knuckles” went into professional boxing where he compiled an unfortunate record of 0 wins and 47 losses. He would eventually end up in a home for the terminally punch drunk.

“Swishy” became a prison warden who was feared by all the inmates for his “rigid” discipline…if you catch my drift.

Last but not least, “Jail Bait” opened a “sporting house” for gentlemen. After being in business a good number of years, her clients gave her a new nickname…"Madame Claptrap".


As, the roaring twenties came to an end, so did the era of silent films. You know, at the time there were more than a few people who thought that sound was going to ruin motion pictures forever and now whenever I hear Sylvester Stallone mangle a line of dialogue…I’m not so sure they were wrong.

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Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Extreme archeology...

You may already know about the controversial documentary by James Cameron ( the guy who directed Titanic) which claims that the tomb that once held the bones of Jesus and possibly his son, has been found.

What you may not know is that there are more shocks to come. My friend the eminent scholar Monty Dingham Smythington, a man who keeps up with these things, sent me this list of other remarkable discoveries that were also made during this archeological expedition:

Moses’s lunchbox, intact and containing a half-eaten, 4ooo year-old ham sandwich. According to the team’s forensic dentistry expert “Moses seems to have had one hell of an overbite. Who knew?

Job’s diary, in which he wrote “I’m a patient man, but all these trials are really starting to chap my ass!

The second (and final) tomb of Lazarus, the man Jesus raised from the dead, did of course die again... eventually. An inscription in the tomb says that the location was to be kept secret by order of the town elders because “ though we appreciate miracles as much as anyone, having dead people coming back to life really messes up the census.

The Captains Log from Noah's Ark, in which he wrote “ I know now that it was wrong to stage animal fights for our amusement, but come on, 40 days and 40 nights! The boredom was killing us and I swear, I really thought that the Unicorns could hold their own against the lions.


Exciting stuff indeed…I wonder if any of it will wind up on eBay?



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Sunday, March 04, 2007

Read any good books lately...

The woman in the photograph is publisher Judith Regan, who recently lost her job after agreeing to publish a controversial book by OJ Simpson and an extremely unflattering biography of baseball legend Mickey Mantle.

Well, it turns out that was just the tip of the iceberg. Here are some other books she had planned to publish in the very near future…


By The Light of an Aryan Moon
: a collection of little known love poems by Adolph Hitler, with a moving introduction by Mel Gibson.


The Devil Wore A Cardigan: An unauthorized “warts and all” biography of beloved children’s television icon “Mr. Rogers”. Among other things, this book alleges that Rogers would sometimes come to work drunk, start groping the female cast members while yelling, “I guess I’m Mr. McFeely today!”

Captain Eno and The New Junior Hardy Boys in: The Case of the Missing Pajamas, by Michael Jackson: This first attempt at a children’s book by the former “King of Pop” finds the grandsons of the original Hardy boys up to their prepubescent necks in trouble as they try to help the mysterious Captain Eno prove his innocence.

Thin Like Me, by Nicole Ritchie: The former “Simple Life” co-star generously shares her weight loss secrets. When asked why she wrote it Nicole said, “ I hope that even plus-sized women like Paris Hilton will be able to benefit from this book.

Robert Blake’s Big Book of Alibis: Before finally settling on “It’ couldn’t have been me, I had gone back to the restaurant to get the gun I had left there” Blake had considered many other alibis when he was accused of shooting his wife, including:

I’m afraid of loud noises

The sight of blood makes me woozy


I permanently crippled my trigger finger back when I played “Baretta”


Any bangin’ I do with a broad don’t involve a gun, and dat’s da name of dat tune.



Sadly none of these books will now see the light of day, but I’m sure Ms. Regan will land on her feet. After all it’s hard to keep a good muckraker down.



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Thursday, March 01, 2007

Let's get mystical...

It has recently been revealed that back in 2002, the British Ministry of Defense conducted experiments to see if psychics could locate Osama Bin Laden. Of course I don’t have to tell you that they didn’t find him, but imagine my surprise to find out that one of the people involved was my friend and world renowned psychic Madame Putwonovaonya.

So I made a phone call and Madame P. agreed to come in and tell us all a little about this rather unusual endeavor:


TDB: Welcome Madame Putwonovaonya, it’s wonderful to see you again.


MP: I wish I could say the same.

TDB: Ha ha, always with the kidding. So, just how do you and your psychic pals go about finding someone?

MP: Well, the method is called “remote viewing” and…

TDB: Is that anything like what dolphins do?

MP: No, I think that’s echolocation.

TDB: Can you explain the difference between the two? I mean, besides the fact that dolphins can actually find things.

MP: I don’t think that’s quite fair…

TDB: Well, did you find Osama?

MP: No, but…

TDB: Were you able to locate any of his henchmen? How about anyone with a beard? Anyone at all…Cat Stevens…Grizzly Adams…Santa Claus…

MP: Look, we are talking about a very complex and mysterious phenomenon here. Sometimes it just doesn’t work, no matter how much you want it to.

TDB: Maybe you have the psychic equivalent of erectile dysfunction.

MP: What?! I most certainly do not…

TDB: There’s no need to be embarrassed, I’m sure it happens to a lot of psychics once they reach a certain age. There’s no shame in needing a little help from a pill or a potion to “stiffen your psychic antenna” so to speak.

MP: There is nothing wrong with my “psychic antenna”! And just how old do you think I am anyway?

TDB: Oh, I don’t know…somewhere between Larry King and Methuselah?

MP: I don’t know why I keep coming back here!

TDB: Maybe it’s because of the photographs I have of you with the husband of one of your clients. You know…the ones where you’re giving him a “reading”…if you catch my drift.

MP: Oh right, those…how did you get them anyway?

TDB: It’s a secret, but you can always consult your crystal ball.

MP: I hate you.

TDB: Madame Putwonovaonya, as always it’s been a pleasure.


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