Sticky Songs

Do you have those songs that get in your head and are harder to get rid of than your Uncle Henry after Thanksgiving dinner? It is like a mental skunk spray that just stays and stays and stays until you think of tomato juice to get rid of it. You’d be surprised how well that works. While doing extensive research into this topic by typing “songs that get stuck in your head” on Google and picking a random result I discovered that these are called earworms. That is a cool name that I wish I had thought up. I am going to torture you with songs that get stuck in my head. Some of them are great to walk around singing and others get you odd looks. There is one that almost got me arrested for singing it in the mall at the top of my lungs but we will avoid talking about George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex” since I try to keep my blog rated PG13.


The worst of the worst I blame on the now sainted (that is a nice way of saying “dead as roadkill”) Sherry Lewis and Lamb Chop. It is called “The Song That Never Ends”. The words are: “This is the song that never ends. It goes on and on my friends. Some people started singing it not knowing what it was, And they’ll continue singing it forever just because… This is the song tha…” That song will never end going through my brain. It gets stuck like Dolly Parton trying to get out of a phone booth. I had a gyro the other day and thought of how amazing the lamb tasted then thought how I had never tried a lamb chop and then thought of Lamb Chop and Sherry Lewis and then thought of the show Lamb Chop’s Play-a-long that my kids used to watch and I would get sucked in and then the song came at the end of the show and I was singing about the song that never ends with a pita in my hand.


Another song that will never leave my head is “Eat it!” by Weird Al Yankovick. Never can I hear “Beat It” without my mind changing the words. But then I can get it out of my head by thinking of the words to “I’m Fat” as Al mocks Michael’s “I’m Bad”. Then I’ll be walking along singing, “You butt is wide. Well mine is too.” The problem is my butt really isn’t that big. I’m a middle aged guy who is a decent weight. The old man butt erosion syndrome where the curves of the man’s but disappear leaving him with a back with a crack has not started on me yet. But if I sing that near any woman of any age it can lead to pain and suffering the on a level that makes water boarding seem like a kindness.


Virtually any song by Peter Gabriel can get stuck in my head. Not that I’m complaining. I like Peter and really wish he and Phil Collins would reunite with Mike Rutherford and Tony Banks for a Genesis reunion. (If any member of Genesis sees this I’m begging you to please try to make it happen for those of us who miss you.) Even though I like Pete’s music when the song “Sledgehammer” get’s stuck in your head while you are waiting in line at the security checkpoint at the airport it can get you in trouble. By trouble I mean missing your flight, getting strip searched by a guy named Earl who I’m pretty sure was playing a banjo in Deliverance, and feeling like he should have at least bought you dinner before that.


Now for the cruel songs that you will be singing to yourself after you read this. “In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the …” Go ahead. Try not to finish it! I dare you! If you try count on a stroke. It can’t be done safely. The nice thing about that song is I don’t know much more than that and the weem-a-way part. It does get stuck but there is not a lot to remember. Try this one: “It’s fun to stay at the Y M…” Do you feel like wearing a hard hat or headdress when you sing that song? How about “It’s a small world after all. It’s a small world after all. It’s a small world after all. It’s a…” Am I making you feel tiny yet? I do know that I am a cruel and evil man making you sing these songs. I do not smoke or do drugs. (I’m like this without any chemical stimulation. Scary, isn’t it?) This is my vice. Muahahahahahahahahah!


Well I think I’ll stop there before I cause you even more mental and emotional damage. Try not to think about those songs. Really try. “We will, we will, rock…” Muahahahahahahaha!

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Not Be This

There are some amazing flowers in the world. A spring day walking along a spring fed stream in the mountains with the smell of honeysuckle in the breeze is one of the sweetest scents in the world. The rose’s subtle smell when passed from the hand of one lover to another takes on an emotional element that stays in the mind long after the event has faded from memory. Even the aroma of fresh cut grass brings back memories long forgotten from a youth sitting in the back yard with a glass of iced tea after working hard mowing the lawn. Then there is the Rafflesia Arnoldi.


The Rafflesia Arnoldi is ranked the world’s worst smelling flower! Kudos to that plant! That is saying something when you compare it to the Dead Horse Arum Lily, the Corpse Flower and the Voodoo Lily which all smell like rotting meat. But the Rafflesia the dubious distinction of being the worst of the worst. Imagine if you will the fumes of a dead raccoon that has been buried in a pig pen for 18 days then moved to sit in the sun in a pool of goat urine. Vivid, isn’t it? It attracts flies to help pollinate it or it just likes the way their little legs feel on its pedals. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if you planted that in a luxurious botanical garden.


“Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming out for the opening of our new wing of the Snootius Laborious Botanicus Gardenius. We have appreciated all the baskets of money you have thrown at us this year. The plants are doing pretty good except for that incident with the lawn mower in the orchids and the runaway weed eater accident in the nearly extinct plant section. That last incident allowed us to add 5 new plants to the totally extinct list. Also the ‘Butt-Ugly’ section is coming along nicely since we added the Climbing Onion plants to the Birthwort. It is really looking good in a bad kind of way. Now if you will please put on your gas masks we will enter the band new ‘Plants of Rotting Flesh’ section.


“Please notice the flowers not only smell like dead decaying deer but they also look as if they could be in the ‘Butt-Ugly’ section too. Now if any of you are brave enough to take off your gas masks please do so at this time. All right now if someone could please assist Mrs. Vanden Burkowitz? There is an oxygen tank right there on the wall. The danger of noxious fumes will make this one of our more popular exhibits with the younger crowd and those young men trying to impress girls with how macho they are. Now if you will follow me to our next exhibit I will show you our new giant carnivorous plants! Robert is in charge of that section. Had anyone see Robert? He was right there by the giant Venus Fly Trap.”


The wonders of the world are amazing to me. Rotting meat flowers take the cake. Well they should take cake since you don’t want to eat those plants. Wait a second! That is brilliant! Smelling like rotting meat will keep the humans away. Now if these plants can just find a way to keep away my dog who has the philosophy: “If it ain’t been dead and rotting in the sun for a week it ain’t worth eating.”

The Doctor is In

It is sad to admit this but I catch ever reference to scifi and comics made on The Big Bang Theory. Yes, I know that makes me a nerd, dork, and uber-geek. On the plus side, it also means that I also get most of the science references, too! Yes, I know what that says about me; but don’t you secretly love watching Star Trek, Star Wars, anything that has Star in the title, Buck Rogers, Flash Gordon, Firefly or The Lord of Rings all day everyday? Perhaps that’s just me. Of all those shows there is one that stands out to those of us who are members of the SyFy Frequent Viewers Club: Doctor Who!


Now for the sake of those of you who have been living under a red rock in an white outhouse on a bleak desert island in the North Sea without access to BBC America, allow me to give you this basics. The Doctor (his name is NOT Doctor Who and please don’t call him that around my son who will complain to me for at least 29 days about what an idiot you are) is a 900+ year old alien from Gallefry who is the last of a race called the Time Lords. When he is close to death he regenerates into a new actor which explains how we have had eleven different actors to play the role in its 49 year history. He travels through space and time in his TARDIS which stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It is a blue British police phone box from the 1950’s that is bigger on the inside than it looks like on the outside and can travel anywhere in time and space. All clear? Good!


Now the cool things about Doctor Whoare the planets, time periods, aliens, and quirky British phrases that make no sense to Americans until you Google them to find out what in the world that word means even though you are speaking very close to the same language. In all fairness, most Americans speak American English (yes I do see the oxymoron in that phrase) as opposed to the Queen’s English because of this little misunderstanding over a ship full of tea in 1773 where King George, III wanted to tax our tea and we wanted to have fish with a caffeine addiction so we tossed it in Boston Harbor and refused to pay the tax since we didn’t drink it. I bet John Adams sent a letter explaining that it was the fish who drank it so try to get them to pay. That is also why we drink more coffee than tea. Since then we have been going different directions with our words making Doctor Who a wondrous weapon in the war of words. I really had no clue that a flat was something more than what you had when your tire ran over a nail left there by the roofers who were too lazy to throw away the nails when they reroofed my apartment. (Not that I have issues about that.) Apparently a flat IS the apartment which makes as much sense as calling something that is connected to a bunch of other things just like it an APARTment.


That is the kind of thing the Doctor would point out. He is a mega, ultra, super, technotronic genius beyond anything you can imagine. He is also a bit unusual, odd, quirky, strange eccentric and just plain goofy; which may explain why I like him. It is that whole “I’m an alien and do things that make you shake your head and wonder what I’m thinking or if I’m thinking or what time zone my brain is in and is it ahead or behind the rest of my body” thing that you see all the time at the DMV. But the Doctor doesn’t make you wait in line for what seems to be an eternity just to get your son a simple little book to study for his drivers’ test. (God help us all and stay off the sidewalks!) The Doctor just skips to the front of the line and, through smarts, charm and weirdness, does what needs to be done to defeat the aliens controlling the world through the licensing process and get his drivers’ license book in the most creative and unusual ways you can imagine.


Now if this blog seems to have been going all over the place then you now have an idea of what to expect when you watch Doctor Who. Good luck and don’t forget your towel. No wait. The towel is Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Jingles Bells Doug Style

So many people are concerned these days about the influences of the world upon the youth. We have TV, music and this thing we call the internet that allows you to actually read this. Do you know that there are other influences on young and old alike that are both ancient and modern all at the same time. Let us look at the hidden, subliminal messages located in that corrupting, much maligned, head banging, heart breaking song: Jingle Bells. Let us look at what James Pierpont was hiding behind such innocent lyrics. It is about a serial tickler!! I believe Jimmy was the great, great grandfather of Angus Young of ACDC or at least he should have been.


Dashing through the snow

  • Run! Run! Run! My little puppet as you flee through a blizzard trying to escape my evil clutches!

In a one horse open sleigh

  • I have a fully loaded, killer horse and I’m not afraid to use him! Watch as I open it up and let him run! Hi-ho, Silver!

O’er the fields we go

  • Yes I will even chase you through that field of petunias that is oddly covered in snow yet still smell to nice until you get scared and soil the soil.

Laughing all the way

  • Muhahahahahahahaha!

Bells on bob tails ring

  • I tied a bell on Bob’s tail and your tail too so I can track you down.

Making spirits bright

  • And now let’s light those shots of butterscotch schnapps and spiced run on fire and have a flaming, well lit cocktails before the tickling. Wow! those bells have a tinny sound.

What fun it is to laugh and sing

  • You may as well accept the fact you are going to be laughing since I will be tickling your feet even though you are freaked out by anyone touching them so you will sing out threatening to kill me with a spoon, a Christmas ornament and a can of Spam.

A sleighing song tonight

  • Yes I will kill you with tickling or at least make you sing out as you pee your pants.


Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells

  • I can hear you running away from me because you forgot about that bell I put on your back in that spot you can’t reach. If you slow down I’ll make it stop. Please stop!

Jingle all the way

  • You are gonna be jingling even when I am sitting on you and tickling you till you beg me to stop. Or those bells may be having an effect on my mind since I am thinking about crushing that bell with a steamroller!

Oh, what fun it is to ride

  • I don’t know about you but I am having a blast. Now hold still while I position the steamroller.

In a one horse open sleigh

  • Don’t forget the killer horse I mentioned earlier. He doesn’t seem to like those bells you are wearing either.

Jingle bells, jingle bells

  • OK. Those bells are getting on my nerves now so please stop running around and lets get the tickling over with.

Jingle all the way

  • Please stop jingling. Can’t you hear it? It’s driving me nuts! I’m begging you here!

Oh, what fun it is to ride

  • The fun is really coming to an end thanks to those stupid bells that are driving me insane although it was a short trip.

In a one horse open sleigh

  • Go get ’em Trigger! The bells! The bells! ARRRGGGHH!


Now that you know the true meaning of the song I hope you will sing it with all the gusto and glory it deserves!

The Evil Mutant Nazi Attack Squirrel of Death

This is not one of my stories but I almost had a heart attack while reading this one from laughing so hard. I think I gave myself a hernia though. Trust me, pee before you read this one.


I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect… I was on Brice Street – a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic.

As I passed an oncoming car, a brown, furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it — it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves.

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I was pretty sure the scream was Squirrel for “Bonzai!” or maybe “Die you gravy-sucking heathen scum!” The leap was nothing short of spectacular… He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans, this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing… I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have, The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of my throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all.

His attacks were continuing and now, I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can have only one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.

The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in … well… I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody’s tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle…my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time, the squirrel decided I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel however.

The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel’s tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand .. I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked … sort of. Spectacularly sort-of . so to speak. Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade into your police car.

I heard screams. This time they weren’t mine… I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to ‘fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really…Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody’s front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver’s seat was standing in the street aiming a riot gun at his own police car. So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to “let the professionals handle it” anyway.

That was one thing. The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car…but it was all his. I took a deep breath, turned on my turn signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.

To All the Chili I’ve Made Before

One of the best foods in the world is chili. Being from Texas I have a love of chili that most other parts of the country can’t comprehend. In Texas we have three different styles of chili. The first is non-Texan chili which anyone can handle if you do not have a heart condition. If you have a heart condition then we need to get you some clam chowder because this stuff will stop your heart faster than jumping in a frozen lake in February. The second type is toddler chili which we give to our kids to help them acclimate to what chili is supposed to be like. Granted, most people find it alarming that this chili can also be used to clean the bugs off the grill of your pickup but we do things a little different in the Lone Star State. The last kind is just called Texas Chili or as non-Texans call it – “Good Lord That Feels Like Lava Going Down!” Since I live in Tennessee I have to make sure I make mine so that it doesn’t eat through the pan if I want any sissy around here to try it. So boring. Even though it is whimped down I thought I would share some of my chili making experiences with you.


My standard chili consists of ground turkey, pinto beans, black beans, chili beans and tomatoes. Now if you eat this chili without the benefit of Beano I refuse to take the blame when your house is surrounded by the toxic waste unit of Homeland Security. I have written about Beano so you can read about it if you want; but let’s just say this stuff creates gasses within you that has a delicate bouquet due to the three types of beans. They really mix well and make you the star of the light your fart contest. Make that the flame thrower of the light your own fart contest.


I have also made a white chicken chipotle chili that has won awards and received rave reviews. OK that might be an exaggeration but my ex-wife liked it. Basically it is a little boring compared to my regular chili since it only has navy beans in it. But if you mix those beans with chipotle chilies it can add an interesting feature to your flatulence. Chipotles are smoked jalapenos that are really very tasty. Now the smoky flavor adds a smoky smell to the stinky stuff that you produce. Try it. You’ll like it. Well maybe not like it but won’t hate is as bad as the next kind.


My most recent attempt at chili was truly something special. I had been given some ground deer meat that I decided to use in a big batch of chili. I took a big bag of pinto beans and soaked them overnight in beer. Then I made a batch of chili with the deer, the beans, two bottles of porter beer, tomatoes and chipotles. Now I did not think I had a sensitive stomach. Granted middle age has made my morning chili cheese dogs something that, although not fatal, as made me wish for death. But this stuff is dangerous. The gas produced was something that defies explanation; but let me just say I need to repaint my walls due to every bit of paint pealing off. That was not the real problem. Have you ever had a colonoscope? The preparation for that procedure involved purging all the poop. The stuff you have to drink is not fun. Guess what I discovered? That chili is tastier and works better than the Moviprep I had to take for mine. I don’t want to be to graphic here but if you have seen the movie Apollo 13you know what the Saturn 5 rocket looks like. I know how the rocket felt!


If you would like to try my Devistating Deer Chili let me know soon. It may not be available much longer because I am talking to the military right now because they want to buy to use to defend our country as a biological weapon!

Unusual Fruit

Time and time again I have been asked where I get the ideas for my blogs. By time and time again I mean twice. But since you both asked I’ll tell you. I have no clue. Sometimes I just sit down and look around the room and my ADD kicks in and all the sudden there is a blog post right in front of me. Then there are the times when I can sit a look at a blank screen for what seems like an eternity – but is more likely nineteen seconds – with nothing happening. Nineteen seconds is an eternity in my ADD world.


This one came from an unexpected source. I was sitting on the couch and channel surfing with nothing on all the cable channels out there and I found an Anthony Bourdain show about Brazil. He was checking out some really cool looking fruit. Then it came to me. I should take what he is doing and pass it off as an original idea. Perhaps telling you, dear reader, will both lower and raise my stock in your eyes. In my defense I couldn’t remember any of the fruit he tried because I was busy writing that first paragraph. So lets look at some fruits that are really cool and unusual and some of them I might actually try.


There is a piece of fruit that I found when I Googled unusual fruit that I thought was a sea anemone. It looks like something I saw as a kid on Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seaon Disney. The Rambutan is found in Southeast Asia and is used as a ninja weapon. It looks scary! Seriously! I think it was on the end of the Medieval morning stars to beat the crap out of peasants to make them bring out their dead. On the inside there is supposedly a white, meaty, sweety core that you eat. It is supposed to be good so the next time a ninja throws one at you catch it, have it surgically removed from your hand, and give it a try.


The next time you miss that left turn in Albuquerque and end up in Bangladesh(IT CAN HAPPEN!!!) you have to try some Jackfruit. It is one of the largest tree fruits in the world and looks like a green brain-type thing that would really brain you if it fell on you. I wonder what Jackfruit means in Bengali. I hope it is something better than fruit named by the guy named Jack.


Do you like fruits that look like eyeballs surrounded by a red bumpy skin? Sounds tasty doesn’t it? Lychee is said to have a grape-like texture which makes it even more eyeball like. Have you ever been to those haunted houses where you put your hand in the bowl of eyes but it is really pealed grapes? Well I hope it was pealed grapes. Now that I think about it my brother had bought a bunch of grapes for his haunted house and I felt the “eyes”. Why did we still have all those grapes the next morning? Either those were real eyes or I ate grapes that lots of people had groped. I hope those were real eyes.


Imagine a plum. Now Imagine a piece of cotton. Now imagine the plum with something that looks like it had a bunch of cotton in the middle of it. That is what a mangosteen looks like. It is said that it is purple, creamy with a peach influence to it’s flavor. I can’t say that I have ever been influenced by a peach unless you count Debbie Hoover in middle school. She influenced me to sit by her on the bus and then kiss her behind the hay stack. She was a peach!


The last one I want to mention is a kumquat. It is just a type of orange with a funny name that I like. I hope you try some of these. No clue if they are any good. Let me know if they don’t cause you diarrhea, hives, death, or turn you into a newt. If it is that newt thing let me know only if you get better.

The Perfect Job

In a recruiting seminar I found out what the prefect job would be. Backup quarterback for a major league football team. As much as it would please me to tell you that I was being recruited for a football player position, alas it was not meant to be. There are a few qualifications for that job that have been, are, and always will be beyond my particular skill set. That was a clever way of saying I can’t throw a football to save my life. Also there is the whole getting tackled thing that is not fun in my book unless it is by the cheerleaders and not the offensive line. Ask be about my non-existent baseball throwing skills sometime. It is not kind to women to say I throw like a girl because most women I know throw better than me. That recruitment seminar was to be an insurance agent. It would have been fun to work for Farm Bureau Insurance so I could say I was an agent of the F.B.I. The company I worked for and I didn’t get along. They wanted me to sell insurance and I wanted to keep my soul.

Perhaps there are other jobs out there that are similarly perfect: low risk, high pay, good hours and no responsibility. One of the best jobs out there is the late night talk show sidekick. This job was immortalized by the late, great Ed McMann. Ed’s job was to introduce the audience to Johnny Carson every night for 30 years. He made really good money by saying: “Heeeeeeeeere’s Johnny!” And his trademark laugh at anything Johnny said was also key. I could do that. Laughing on key and sucking up were my main critical skills when I was an assistant pastor.


Another really good job is Executive Vice President of Anything. No one know what that title means. It sounds really good and you should make good money. There are other vice presidents to do the actual VP work and a President to take the blame if anything goes wrong. The XVP sits back, drinks Scotch, kicks the feet up and take credit for the work of the underlings and tells everyone they are “brains of the operation” even though I have yet to meet an XVP who has any detectable gray matter.


There is a phrase that says: “Those who can, do! Those who can’t, teach.” I would add a couple more phrases on there. “Those who can’t teach, coach. Those who can’t coach, go into politics.” In East Tennessee, where I live, we also say: “Those who can’t coach seem to get hired by the University of Tennessee.” Consider the life of the member of Congress. They vote on things and get to have meetings that are televised and call press conferences and argue a lot. WE PAY THEM FOR THAT! Will Rogers was right when he said, “If pro is the opposite of con, what is the opposite of Congress?”


There is one last prefect job I’d like to point out: blogger. You set your own hours. No one tells you what to write. You get to share your opinions with people and they have no way to debate you without leaving a comment on your blog. Even if they do leave a comment you can chose whether or not you want to publish their snide remarks about your spelling or choice of topic that may or may not be personally offensive even though the blogger has no control over what another may choose to take offense at so they really shouldn’t be mean to the blogger who makes comments about bovine flatulence and accuse the blogger of rectal cranial inversion to address the issue of a lack of tact and taste even though the blogger never has and never will taste the aforementioned cow farts. Of course that has ever happened to me no matter what my brothers claims. Now if I could only find a way to make money at this.

The End of World

With the approach of the end of the world according to the Mayan calendar I have been wondering how it is going to happen. The Mayans probably just ran out of space on a stone and really didn’t care about things after December 21, 2012. Considering the sense of humor that God has by creating the platypus, the color chartreuse, the word “wobble”, and me; I think he will find a more interesting way of ending the world instead of the fires, floods, asteroid and earthquakes that people predict. The following are my top five creative ways the world could end.


  1. The center of the earth is pierced by a deep sea drilling rig and we discover the core is not a lead sphere surrounded by molten lead but really full of cow flatulence and the world ends in a massive fart as the methane escapes and the earth falls in on itself.

  1. Dolphins, after years of trying to communicate with us by dancing on their tails, in an act of frustrations release the secret weapon of killer tuna who attack all sea going vessels, take over the navy, and launch a preemptive nuclear strike on humanity from within flooded subs.

  1. Mutant howler monkeys, after seeing planet of the apes, activate the secret primate mind control banana pudding. It begins in the south of the United States where everyone loves banana pudding with vanilla wafers but then spreads until we are all under the spell of the howler monkeys who turn Australia into one big human zoo and throw peanuts at us from New Zealand.

  1. A glitter factory explodes making the atmosphere sparkle reflecting all the sunlight onto the moon which causes it to heat up and hatch the giant space slug at its core which then eats the earth as it’s first meal.

  1. All the apocalypse movies come true all at once and Bruce Willis, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Mel Gibson are all on a coffee break.


I know it is sad but that fart thing would be a really cool way to go! Of course we all know that it is really going to end without a warning and then we will…

Warning Labels

There is a concern among many of us that the movie Idiocracy is less a comedy and more of a prophecy. If you haven’t seen it then you should because it is funny and scary at the same time. The basic premise is that the smart people are controlling the number of children they produce while those with less developed mental faculties (that is a kind way of saying they are as dumb as tree fungus) are just cranking out the babies and lowering the collective I.Q. There seems to be some truth to that as I people watched at Dollywood. The tourists have their 2.3 kids and are doing well except for that .3 kid who looks really weird and keeps stumbling since he only has one foot. The hillbillies who come to town for a day at that Pardon girl’s place and have 14 kids really need to consider getting a new hobby.


There are also a few of us who have a rather Darwinian theory to help avoid the nincompoop nation that is forecast in that film. Do you ever wonder about the warning labels on all those products out there? Sitting right in front of me is a bad of trail mix. I like eating it because it has fruit, nuts and M&Ms. Anything that lets me eat an M&M and think it is healthy is good in my book. On the bag are pictures of almonds, cashews and peanuts. The clear window in the bag shows the actual nuts sitting there looking at you begging to be eaten. Just a second. Chomp. Crunch. Chew. That handful of nuts is no longer begging to be eaten. Yum! Anyway, there is a warning on the bag that is clear as day, “Allergy warning. Contains nuts.” No kidding! Gee. What are the odds? If you have a nut allergy you should be looking for nuts in your food. If you are allergic to nuts and are grabbing handfuls of trail mix then anaphylactic shock is the least of your concerns.


There are also warning on standard items that should not be there. If someone is dumb enough to use the hairdrier IN THE SHOWER then the gene pool needs that kind of chlorine shock to clean it out. What about the warning label a bottle of Jack Daniels? It basically says alcohol may impair you. Isn’t that the point if drinking it? Of course alcohol has played a role on many of the Darwin Awards that have been awarded over the years. The awards and the movie by the same name are really worth your time to check out. Many people’s last slurred words have been: “I wonder if that would work?” The answers is usually a very loud “NO!!!”


You know we could just go the opposite direction with warning labels and label everything with all the possibilities that exist.

  • Warning: Ice cream may make you fat.
  • Warning: Guns may fire bullets.
  • Warning: Rabid wildebeests may not be friendly.
  • Warning: Breathing air causes cancer.
  • Warning: Sponge Bob is stupid.
  • Warning: Gravity may make you fall down. (Alcohol and gravity are allies on that one.)
  • Warning: Mirrors are bad for your self esteem after eating the ice cream while getting stampeded by the rabid wildebeests unless you’re impaired by Jack.
  • Warning: Feet stink.
  • Warning: Taco Bell may cause flaming flatulence if eaten by candlelight.
  • Warning: What happens in Vegas shows up on Pawn Stars.
  • Warning: Lawyers want to sue you.


You tell me. What should be do? Get rid of the warnings or add more to amuse ourselves. I just don’t know; but both will make me laugh!