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Thread: Auntie's Anti-Humor

  1. #46
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    Yep! I think you earned your corn with this one, Auntie. Very enjoyable. I particularly liked the part about the mouse

    Live long and prosper - H

  2. #47
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    Quote Originally Posted by AuntShecky View Post
    . . .
    Maybe your hubby or insignificant other will deign to dance with you to a beautiful love song, something up-to-the minute and straight off the pop charts, like: “What the Hell” by Avril Lavigne, Pink’s romantic ballad, “ F@*! Perfect” , or Pitbull’s passionate “Hey Baby (Drop it to the Floor)” –not to be confused with time-honored classics such as the deathless lyrics of Gwen Stefani’s “Hey Baby, Hey Baby, Hey Baby” (etc.) or the immortal 1992 masterpiece by Sir Mixalot: “Baby Got Back.” If songs like these fail to put you in a romantic mood, I don't know what will. . .
    I'm impressed with your whole article, but even more so that you would know the names of all those modern 'songs.'
    Currently reading Lust for Life by Irving Stone. Recently completed The Origin by Irving Stone, Moguls and Iron Men by James McCague, The Great Bridge by David McCullough, All the Great Prizes by John Taliaferro, Empire by Gore Vidal, Middlemarch by George Eliot, Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe, Animal Farm by George Orwell, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton.

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    Franco is Franco, but Anne "hath a way"

    Well, it’s said that writers have to suffer for their art, and your ol’ auntie is no exception. So in order to write this latest ditty, I had to break my long-standing vow against watching the Academy Awards telecast. Man, talk about suffering!

    For a while it looked as if I could have watched Masterpiece Theatre, or, shockingly enough, actually read something, as when I tuned in at 8:30, the ABC affiliate in my neck o’ the woods did not come in on my TV set. Instead of carrying the Oscar pre-game show, “On the Red Carpet,” the local station chose to broadcast dead air as a public service. But wouldn’t you know it, a few minutes later the stupid awards show came on after all.

    The irony of the whole thing is that I never had to sit through any of it, had I but known that early this morning the good people over at WDUH-FM (One-oh-four-point-seven-and-a-half on your dial) were going to email me the following transcript of their complete coverage of the star-studded event. Thus, into the annals of cinematic history comes the latest bit of anti-humor which we like to call

    If Sportscasters Covered the Academy Awards Ceremony

    “–elcome, East Hogwashers. Muckenmeyer’s Discount Beer is very proud to present a very special edition of ‘Biff and Goose in the Morning,’ though of course it’s evening where you are on the East Coast. We’re broadcasting live from the Kodak Theatre out here in sunny California. I’m Biff Bennington, your co-host along with the lovely and talented Goose Ganderheimer. . . Goose, how’d ya like to tell our listeners how we happened to come by this gig?”

    “Sure thing, Biff. Funny thing happened over in our studios in East Hogwash. Our usual arts, entertainment, fashion, and social scene reporter, Kristi Diaz-Bullekopf, was all set to come out here and cover the Oscar telecast for WDUH. She had her plane tickets, her reservations at the Holiday Inn, every thing all ready to go, when she thought she’d had time to finish some work before heading for the airport. She was writing a blog about tips on haircoloring tips, I believe it was. Well, all of a sudden Kristi broke free of the chains and sandbags that had up to that point anchored her to her desk and before you know it, she floated, up, up, and away. All I can say, Biff, is that at this point, Kristi will be ‘mist.’ ”

    “Oh, Goose, that’s so sad.”

    “You said it, Biff. At the time of the tragedy, that blog she was working on, 'To Frost or Not to Frost' turned out to be Kristi’s swan song.”

    “Yep. She was so light-headed, er light-hearted. That is why Muckenmeyer’s Discount Beer –‘When it’s the price–not the quality–that counts’ has decided to dedicate this edition of 'Biff and Goose in the Morning' to Kristi. And that’s also why you and I are out here to cover the big Oscar show.”

    “Speaking of fashion, look at the skimpy dresses these Hollywood chicks are wearing, Biff. I’ve seen more fabric on a sweat towel in the East Hogwash Boars locker room.”

    “You bet, Goose. I guess that’s why they have to have ‘seat warmers.’ "

    “You didn’t tell me we were supposed to wear tuxedos, though. I mean, who’s gonna see us, we’re on the radio–“

    “But look at you, Goose. Who are you wearing?”

    “Well, get a gander at the back of my jersey. You can see it loud and clear: it says “Don Mattingly.”

    “Oh yeah. Nice L.A. touch. It sure is great to be here at the Oscars, but I’ve got a confession to make. I really don’t know that much about the movies. In fact the last Best Picture I saw was Chariots of Fire.”

    “Yeah? Is that the really old one with Charlton Heston in it? I don’t know nothing about no movies neither. But I do know the first picture I ever saw and that’s when my mom and dad took me to the drive-in to see Francis the Talking Mule. (Or was that the day they bought a tv and the first show that came on was Meet the Press?)”

    “Well, let’s take a look at this year’s nominees, shall we? Oh, here’s one that’s right up our alley– ‘Best original score.’ “

    “Oh, I know! I know, Biff. Best original score– that would be August 31, 2004. Indians 22, Yankees zip.”

    “You’re on a roll, there, Goose. Try this one– ‘Best visual effects.’ “

    “I got it, I got it–oh, crap, I lost it in the sun! You try one, Biff. Of all the Major League Umpires, who has the most animated feature?”

    “Not now, Goose. Right now we’ve got the winner of the Best Costume Design in the batter’s box and it’s Alice in Wonderland! Wow, just look at the size of that head!”

    “Oh, are they on the Best Actor category all ready?”

    “No, Goose. It looks like the two co-hosts are doing a comedy bit. She’s wearing men’s clothes and he’s in drag. Let’s listen in--”

    “--Hot damn! There’s a Charlie Sheen joke! I win the pool, Biff!”

    “‘Fraid not. That joke’s too lame. Sorry, Buddy, you’re DQ’d. On deck is the category for Best Picture, but first we’re going to break for a message from Muckenmeyer’s Discount Beer. We’ll be right back. . .Ya think they’re serving Muckenmeyer’s at the glamorous Oscar parties tonight, Goose? Back there in the Green Room?”

    “Hey, one sip of Muckenmeyer’s and everything’s green, including your -–“

    “Damn it, Goose, hit the mike! Hit the mike!--
    . . .Okay, we’re back. Biff and Goose here at the Oscars. And it’s the bottom of the ninth with the Best Picture Nominees on deck. Holy Cow! There are ten of ‘em! Wow, that’s one more than the total number of teams in the AL Central and West combined! Okay, let’s look at the roster: Leading off is Black Swan. Second, ah, at last a sports-related movie: The Fighter. Batting next is Inception –“

    “Oh, yeah, like the big party that comes after a wedding. . .”

    “Then The Kids Are All Right--”

    “--Must be about rookies–“

    “ -Followed by The King’s Speech, then the one that reminds me of a Red Sox-Yankees game, 127 Hours

    “Or this show, Biff –“

    The Social Network, Toy Story 3 ,(1 and 2 must’ve been traded to other teams) Winter’s Bone , and True Grit .”

    “That last one’s gotta be about the hot dogs at the concession stand at Memorial Stadium on the Upstate Campus of Downstate University at East Hogwash. What’s this? Somebody just handed us a telegram, Biff.”

    “A telegram? In this day and age? Why didn’t they send us a text message or a Twitter or something. . .Oh, gosh. It’s from the legal department of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. They say we’re unauthorized to mention their trademarked words ‘Oscar’ or ‘Academy Awards.’ ”

    “What are you talking about, Biff? You mean we can’t say ‘Oscar’? What do they do when Sesame Street comes on? Bang on the lid of Oscar the Grouch’s garbage can?”

    “Hey, you don’t want to fool around with these lawyers. They’re so tough even Disney wouldn’t hire ‘em. Well, it looks like they’re coming up on the finale of the Os--, er, awards presentation broadcast. A bunch of school kids from Staten Island are singing ‘Over the Rainbow.’ The NFL ought to book them to sing the National Anthem at next year’s Super Bowl.”

    “Not a chance, Biff. They’re way too good. They went through the entire song and didn’t flub one line.”

    “Well, maybe there’s no a fat lady singing, but the ball game’s over. This concludes our special episode of “Biff and Goose in the Morning.” Tune in tomorrow morning when we’ll back in our WDUH studios to discuss why the East Hogwash Boars didn’t get an invite to the March Madness tournament for the 73rd year in a row. For Muckenmeyer’s Discount Beer and speaking for Goose Ganderheimer, this is Biff Bennington saying ‘So long from sunny California.’ “

    “Are you sure we can say ‘California,’ Biff?”



    If you're a glutton for punishment, here's some more
    Biff and Goose:
    Words of Whizdom 2010

    Christmas Morning Play by Play
    Last edited by AuntShecky; 03-01-2011 at 02:49 PM. Reason: crazy little punctuation tweaks

  4. #49
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    Thumbs up, Auntie a very enjoyable, rip-roaring guide to the main event. I actually think if they covered the thing that way it'd be a better show. Despite being a film buff in the distant past, when my youth was only twenty years behind me, I'm afraid to say that I took absolutely no interest in the awards. The Uk news told me who'd won best picture and best actor the next day, and that was only because of the British contingent! So, sadly I missed all the gushingly false tears and inane jokes from the compares. Somehow though, I think I'll survive...

    Live and be well, H

    PS, have you ever seen Simone? Brilliant movie satire on hollywood, and it stars Al Pachino, so you know the actiing will be good.

    BFN

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    Thank you, Hawk, for your very generous response to Auntie's take on the Os--er, awards ceremony show. I usually don't watch it because it's usually just awful and totally irrelevant as I haven't been to a movie theatre in 15 years.

    I prefer watching the old movies on TV. The other night TCM showed On the Waterfront(1954), which is one of the finest movies I've ever seen. I've been informed that one of the reviewers at the time said that Brando's acting in On the Waterfront was the greatest performance ever recorded on film. I'm no expert or"cineast" (is that how it's spelled?), but I whole-heartedly agree.

    As far as the failed telecast on Sunday night, there have been much funnier jokes about it than the ones yer ol' Auntie tried to come up with, for instance Jimmy Kimmel's parody of the winner for Best Picture and on the morning news show I watch daily, one of the guests was a big wheel at a cable network as well as host of his own show. His comments on the award telecast were very funny, but especially his opinion of the singing public school kids. I thought they were adorable, but this guy said that the Osc- awards telecast just wasn't the appropriate place. "And what was with the colorful teeshirts those kids were wearing," he asked. "What is this--a telethon?"

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    And Now for Something "Udderly" Ridiculous

    How Now, Brown ---Wha?

    When success is the goal of launching a product, the conventional business advice is to “find a need and fill it.” Marketing executives have tweaked that basic guideline by creating a need for otherwise useless products. We have that tidbit of wisdom to thank for those wonderful contributions to western civilization such as the Pet Rock, the Snuggie, and cures for previously-unknown ailments such as the heartbreak of Restless Leg Syndrome.

    Now, another product that we simply cannot live without has backed into the room. On his cable TV show yesterday, Dylan Ratigan mentioned that a website is offering a product designed for stressed-out urban dwellers who hanker for the natural ambience of the country and the relative simplicity of rural life. Now citified professionals can get a whiff of everything they've been missing with a new designer fragrance –“ L’essence de petarades des vaches” or “Cow Fart in a Can.” (The online article was unclear as to whether it’s a conventional can that requires an opener or if it’s an “aerassol” spray.)

    Just think. You're a middle-manager forced to sit through a mid-afternoon meeting while some boss drones on about quarterly statements, core competencies, and spreadsheets.When the Head Gasbag demands, as he always does, to “think outside the box,” why not kick it up a notch and start stinking outside the can! That’s what I call taking the bull by the horns. The workplace have always dealt with the stuff found in the barnyard, so it may as well smell like the real thing.

    Pop open the can and in an instant your cold, sterile office will be transformed into the bucolic serenity of the lower 40. Suddenly, minds once preoccupied with number-crunching will dream of the rustling of a breeze through the cow pasture, its earthy fragrance wafting upwind, maybe bringing with it visions of a corn-fed gal in pigtails and gingham just a-waitin’ for ya ta finish yer chores and meet ‘er up there in the hayloft.

    In addition to improving employee morale, there are financial benefits that are beginning to smell really good. For instance, think of the scratch you'll save the company by opening one of these puppies (er, calves?) around half-past eleven, quarter to twelve. The employees who used to sprint out the door to the cafeteria or the Food Court will rapidly lose their appetites. They'll stay and work straight through lunch.

    Grab yourself a requisition form and order a fiscal year’s worth of Nature’s Gift to the Pheromonically-deprived. Have it delivered overnight so your co-workers won't have to wait one extra minute to breathe in the bovine goodness. Come on, make your "moo-ve." Be sure to “stock” up so you'll have enough products to last till the cows come home. (If you're really lucky, maybe on the way home they'll stop off at a Taco Bell.)

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    Slippery Serpent Kills @ Komedy Klub

    Unless you've been living under the proverbial rock, you've heard about the 20-inch cobra who broke out of the Bronx Zoo over the weekend. It’s still MIA. Don't be fooled by the imposter claiming to be the escapee and posting lame-o “jokes” on Twitter. That’s the Anti-Cobra. The One, True, Living Cobra has slithered all the way up the Taconic Parkway to beautiful downtown East Hogwash, where it has been spotted ‘knocking ‘em dead’ nightly at Al’s Chuckle Barn. A portion of the cobra’s monologue follows:

    “. . .[S]o I thought I'd try my hand at stand-up comedy. ‘Course actually having a hand would help. For me the hardest part about doing stand-up is standing up.

    “I'll tell ya why I decided to split the Big House. I was sick of doing time, especially when I was completely innocent of all charges. My lawyer was lousy! The judge kept getting him mixed up with me!

    “Not only that, I had to get away from all the emails and cell phone messages from people thinking that COBRA had something to do with health insurance. If they think I'm gonna help some out-of-work construction guy get a Viagra prescription, they're crazier than Charlie Sheen! LOL, my asp!

    “What’s that – a heckler back there? Listen, I'm the one who gets to do all the hissing around here!

    “Yep. I've been a cobra all my life. Back in college – Ah, I remember it well, I've got total recoil. Anyway, back in the day, I flirted with the idea of converting to another species. I was gonna be a garter snake, but I changed my mind. There’s not a chick on the planet who would let me get anywhere near her legs!

    “Few years back I was going to audition for Snakes on a Plane. Didn't even make it to L.A. Airport security wouldn't let me through the gate. They told me to shed my skin. But I don't do nudity.

    “If I don't make it as a comic, I've got something to fall back on-- the real estate business. What, you've never heard of reptile landlords? I won't have any trouble with tenants coughing up the rent. I've got some boa constrictors in my posse, and I'll just send ‘em over. They'll squeeze the life out of those deadbeats.

    “Listen, fangs a lot, Ladies and Gentlemen. You've been an awesome audience. I'm here all week. Try the Prime Rib. Me, I'm partial to rodent tartare. I can't believe I swallowed the whole thing– whole!”


    UPDATE 4/3/11
    The escapee was apprehended and back behind bars at the Bronx Zoo. Can a reality show be far behind? It could fit the Animal Planet lineup, but the real housewives on Bravo could use some soft and feminine contrast, don't cha think?

    By the bye, the cobra is a "she." The zoo is sponsoring a naming contest so that two-legged species can endow her with a moniker. All I can say is if the winning entry has anything like "aunt" or "Shecky" in the name, I'm ssssuing!
    Last edited by AuntShecky; 04-03-2011 at 07:33 PM.

  8. #53
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    Some good laugh lines in there Aunty. I saw that story. Is she still on the loose?
    LET THERE BE LIGHT

    "Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena

    My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/

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    deleted ____
    Last edited by AuntShecky; 04-09-2011 at 01:55 PM. Reason: Duplicate Post!

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    Maybe it’s my peevish mood, but today there are two anti-humorrhoids for the price o’ one.

    Up first is a parody (sort of) of a work whose creator probably doesn’t deserve to be spoofed. I’ve yet to see the two movies based on Diary of a Wimpy Kid, but the online version is cute as all get out. Well, it’s said that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” (also, as Fred Allen noted,” the sincerest form of television.) Here we go with the first ignorable piece-- typos, misspellings, glitches, and adolescent patois and all, though she gets the apostrophes right--which we like to call

    ‘Dairy’ of a Nerdy Chick or like, Milking It For All It Is Worth

    Day One

    I wanted to start each journal entry with “Dear Diary,” but it keeps coming out as “dairy.” It’s even weirder when I try to type my shorthand for “going to.” Some how I’m gonad have to disable the stupid Spell Check.

    Day Two

    It’s not even fifth period and all ready it’s a really, really bad hair day.

    It started this morning when I got nailed for being late for Home Room. No fair! It wasn’t my fault at all! A bunch of college kids were blocking the steps and holding everybody up. They had basketfulls of condominiums and were passing out the little foil packs to everybody entering the school, one to a customer. The industrial arts teacher was ahead of me when a college kid goes, “Excuse me, Sir, are you sexually active?” And Mr. Crashaw is like, “No, I’m married.”

    Lunch was the absolute worst! I was gonad sit with my BFFs. Kayla, Kyline, Madysson, and Edna and my self usually like to sit at the same table and text each other. But they like totally ignored me. I saw my EX- BFFs in the back of the cafeteria laughing with all those stuck-up b-words!

    I hate those rich chicks! First of all, I don’t know why they don’t go to like some hoity-toity private academy instead of East Hogwash Junior High School. On the upside it’s good they’re so dumb because they push my average higher on the grading curve.

    Secondly they diss us poor kids for not having fancy food like they have. And today I didn’t have any lunch at all! The Zero Tolerance Monitor at the front entrance confiskated my peanut butter sanwich + threw it into the trash can next to the Metal Detector. Sometimes the b-words have caterers come in, swear to God. They use silver spoons to eat fish eggs out of little jars and they guzzle what they say is champaine. I don’t think there’s any like real booze in it. But I bet ya it like cost big bucks.

    The leader of their little whatyacallit –“click”-- Mindy Worthington-Farquar, is the snootiest. Her daddy is like so rich he let her have some huge designer– Pucci Gucci Coo or whatever-- reboot her gym suit. Mindy doesn’t even have to update her own Facebook page. She has Mark Zuckerberg on Speed Dial. The other day when she missed the late bus she had the principal drive her home. But first she made him put on a showfer’s uniform.

    But it looks like the rich b-words and my EX bffs are gonad get their like come up Pence. Ethan, Evan, Aiden + Butch got a bunch of those condominiums and made like water balloons out of them to dump on the heads of those mean girls. LOL! I’m gonad get my cell ready to catch it all on video. G2G!

    Day Three

    When today started out it looked like I was gonad finally catch a break. Mrs. Symansky goes, “ Mary Ellen Briggs, report to the Guidance Office” Whooo! That rocks! Not because I like the guidance counselor so much. But because any day I can get out a first period gym is like Christmas.

    On my way out of home room I accidentally on porpoise elbowed Ethan’s back. I’m like, “Whoops, sorry” and he’s like “Listen, 4 Eyes, when you go see old Crome Dome tell ‘im what he wants to hear. Lay some really, really lame-o stuff on ‘im like ‘I want to make a difference.’ They love nerdy crap like that. But whatever you do, don’t tell him you want a job just like he has or he’ll think you’re just brown-nosin’.” And I’m like “Ok, Buddy. Thanks for the tip.”

    Ol’ Crome Dome was at his desk waiting for me. “Oh, Mary Ann, glad you could make it.”

    He got the name wrong but I let it pass. “Good morning Mr. McClanahan.” He had a big paper cup full of coffee on his desk but didn’t offer me any. Sooooo typical.

    “We’ve been looking over your permanent record and I must say your grades are pretty good.” I go, “Thank you.” And thank you Mindy, Muffy, Sterling, + Cooper.

    “I know it’s early yet , and you’re still in EHJHS, but all of us are cureyus. Have you given any thought to the future? Long term, I mean. College plans? Career goals?”

    “Well, Chrom--, er, Mr. Mac, I’m not really sure yet. One thing I do know is that whatever I decide to be I really, really want to make a difference.”

    Chrome Dome gave me a humongus homongus big smile that showed every one of his yellow teeth. Then he goes “Why, that’s really admirable of you, Mary Sue! “ He wrote somethin down and then he’s like, “Now, just so we don’t get you started down the wrong track, we want to eliminate the inappropriate courses at the get go. Tell me, can you 4 see any job that you don’t ever, never want to do?“

    “Why, yes, Mr. Mac.” I go. “ Funny that you ask. There is one thing I don’t ever want to be.”

    “Yes?”

    “The last thing I ever want to be is a junior high school guidance counselor.” That was when Chrome Dome sent me straight to the Principal’s Office.

    Whooo! This was my lucky day after all! The Principal wasn’t there. He went downtown to score Mindy some Justin Bieber tickets. You just know the line in front of the Rentacenter Civic Center box office is gonad be like soooo long.

    Expecially if they’re handing out condominiums in front of the place.




    Another piece impersonating "humor" immediately appears below.
    Last edited by AuntShecky; 04-07-2011 at 02:13 PM. Reason: typos, toujours, typos(the gal herself spells badly, though)

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    (Note--This is the second of today’s humorrhoids. The first is posted immediately above.)


    Sometimes I think I’m living in an alternative universe. I may be wrong, but I distinctly heard several mentions of a global unemployment crisis going on. Evidently I was wrong. The job picture can’t be as bad as everyone says it is, not if somebody is going pay a guy to lounge around the beach. I kid you not! It’s the real deal.*

    I’m not envious or outraged or anything like that, but I am moved to post the following ditty which we like to call

    It’s A Lousy Job, But Somebody’s Got to Do It

    Through the knothole in the nine-foot-high fence I could see all sorts of activity going on– dudes in hard hats operating heavy machinery, climbing up on girders, drilling with jackhammers, pounding nails. I sighed and shook my head. Those lucky stiffs!

    As much as I wanted to experience the vicarious thrill of laborious construction work, I had to get to my own place of employment: an expansive stretch of pristine white sand flanked by the endless blue sea, with the warmth of heat of the sun above me, the coolness of the ocean breeze in my hair. The name’s Boyle. Lance Boyle. Occupation: Professional Beach Tester.

    How, you may well ask, did a nice guy such as myself end up in a place like this? Well, it was completely random. Sheer chance, you may say. Not long ago, I intended to get a refund for tickets to Charlie Sheen’s show. When I saw the three-block queue snaking around the corner, I got on the end. As it turned out, I was in the wrong line. Long story short, I got the job. As I say, it was dumb luck.

    I’m glad to be working, don’t get me wrong, but I haven’t been this bored since I was a kid and sat in front of the TV waiting for Geraldo Rivera to open up Al Capone’s vault. All I do all day is sit around, soak up rays, read trashy novels, and Tweet. And I had to kiss my quiet nights at home goodbye. If I have to sip one more glass of Merlot or chat up one more beach babe I’ll go completely psycho.

    Boredom isn’t the only occupational hazard. I must spend hours just shaking the sand out of my Speedos. The strong sunlight is beginning to fade my "tat." Things took a tern for the worst when the seagulls started stealing my nacho chips.

    The other day I thought I’d finally found a ray of hope when the wind blew a sign right across my toes. It said “Bikinis–Half Off.” At last a break in the monotony, I thought. You can imagine my heartbreak when I discovered that the sign originally hung in the window of Dottie's Duds next to souvenir stand.

    Yesterday I had enough. Just to occupy myself I helped a guy moor his sailboat. Then I held the pail of lacquer while a surfer was refinishing his board. The high point of the day was when I got a chance to clean the oil slick off a pelican. That’s when the boss caught me.

    “Stop that!” she yelled. “Go lie down this instant and earn your pay!”

    “Sorry, Ma’am, but I’m on strike,” I explained.

    “Good, because you’re through. Hand in your beach chair and your SPF-40.” With that she Trumped me with the Full Donald: “Ya fired!”

    So I lost the job. Big deal. Lance Boyle has been fired from better jobs than this. But Lance Boyle is nothing if not resilient. I got another gig that very day.

    Not that it’s much better. I have to sit around a plush suite and watch every televised MLB game** for the entire season. As I say, the job is no home run, but I know times are tough and I’ll try to keep it.

    All I have to remember to do is keep my nose clean, post my Tweets, and resist the urge to change the channel to C-Span.


    *Beach tester


    **baseball game watcher
    Last edited by AuntShecky; 04-07-2011 at 02:26 PM. Reason: The original MLB link needed log in and acct #

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    G'day, Auntie, I had, in fact, already perused these little gems, noting that the first one appears to be an experiment in 3D posting, although the orientation of the secondary image is such that the human binocular arrangement of optical receptors is incompatible with the alignment of the display, thus failing to render the tri-D image to optimum effect. However, as a representation of the mindset and educational accomplishments of the distaff portion of American youth, the first of the pieces is both witty, and amusing.

    As for the second, you once again reveal that truth is stranger than fiction. You might be interested to learn that on the website www.comparethemeerkat.com they are advertising a position with a 6 month contract with a pay packet of £40,000 stirling, as ambasador for Meerkovo. (this is a genuine advert.) I'd apply myself, but I know nothing about twitter or facebook, both prerequsites for a successful application!

    Live and be well - H

  13. #58
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    Debi Snotenlocker's Storybook Moment

    (From the online journal of Mrs. Debi Snotenlocker, the Happy Housewife of East Hogwash, USA):

    Debi Snotenlocker’s Storybook Moment

    I almost forgot about the big historical event today. No, I don't mean Opening Day at Belmont Race Track. Yesterday I stopped at the Cost Cutter to pick up a pint o’ half and half, and they had a huge display of products with a big sign over it: Every Snack You Need for Your Royal Wedding Watching Party! They weren't kidding. ‘Cuz nothin’ says Merry Old England like frozen pizza bites, tortilla chips, and sushi rolls.

    This morning I was up before sunrise. As usual, Brad was miffed. He’s “Gee, Debi, if you got up at 5 in the morning for this thing, how come you wouldn't get your butt outa bed to go trout fishing with me?”

    And I go, “When you tell me that Brian Williams or Anderson Cooper are bringing their film crews down to the Esopus Creek, then we'll talk.”

    I guess that was pretty snotty, but I was all cranky from staying awake most of the night reading up on English history in the encyclopedia. I found out about King Henry the VIII (all those kings had Roman numerals after their names, like the Super Bowl.) You always see pictures of him as a fat guy ready to chomp on a drumstick. I didn't know they had KFC back in the 1500s. Hollywood had nothing on that guy-- he had VI wives! The king divorced the ones he didn't like except for the ones whose heads were chopped off. (He must've done that when he was strapped for cash and couldn't cough up the alimony.)

    Another king who lived less than 100 years ago fell in love with a woman who was a commoner and had a previous relationship. Not only that, she was an American. Wait a minute– a king can murder his wives but he can't marry anybody he wants? What’s up with that? Anyway, in 1936 this King Edward VIII said he would give up his whachamacallit–his kinghood --“for the woman he loves.” How romantic is that? Back when I was setting the date for our wedding, I couldn't even get Brad to change his Bowling Night.

    But who in her right mind would want to be the wife of a guy who blew off the throne for her? I mean, she must've been under a lot of Pressure. She probably had to think long and hard before telling him, “Not tonight, Dear. I have a headache.”

    Well, I wanted somebody to watch the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton with me. Trick, Trap, and Trip didn't want to have anything to do with it, once they realized that it wasn't a Disney DVD with talking animals. I offered to change the channel to the coverage on Fox News, but no dice.

    You'd think Milwaukee, my teenage daughter from a previous relationship, would be psyched about this storybook wedding. Forget it! Two years ago I had to twist her arm to get the go to the All Star Game, but since then she found out how many millions MLB players make. So now she spends hours on her cell phone Googling rookies to see who’s an eligible bachelor. She is like shopping around for a Major Leaguer, or as my grandma used to say, “setting her cap” for one. I go, “You know, you could be a princess just like Kate. Prince William has a kid brother. What about him?”

    “Yeah?” She says, “What’s his batting average?”

    So I ended up watching the Royal Wedding all by my lonesome. It was beautiful! I saw the Beefeaters with their red uniforms and puffy hats. They looked like they just stepped off a gin bottle. I really appreciate getting to see all this because we don't have a monarchy over here in America, unless you count The King of Beers, Queen-sized mattresses, and Royal Crown cola. But we “Yanks” (also Mets and Red Sox fans) weren't forgotten. At the end of the ceremony, the band in Westminster Abbey played “My Country ‘Tis Of Thee.”

    Naturally I was looking for celebrities in the crowd but didn't have much luck spotting anybody. I saw somebody in the row behind the boys’ choir who looked like Larry King, but it could've been a gargoyle. I heard Fergie of Black Eyed-Peas was going to be there, but not the Fergie who is Prince William’s aunt. I don't know if Donald Trump got an invite. But I think I did hear somebody demanding to see the royal marriage license.

    As far as I know, the reception wasn't going to be televised. Too bad. I'd love to see the traditional wedding rituals, like we have over here, where the groom smashes the cake into the bride’s face.

    Even though I only got to see the wedding on TV, I betcha it would've been a thrill to be there in person. Lots of tourists are buying tons of souvenirs, like key chains and commemorative plates. I heard that you can even buy a refrigerator with a full-color photo of the royal couple on the door. (This might work for somebody who is on a diet. Just one look at Kate’s skinniness would make you change your mind about that pizza or tortilla snack.)

    One of my nicest possessions happens to be a souvenir, a gorgeous coffee mug. So what if it says “Welcome to Finger Lakes Racetrack” on it? At least it’s not Brad’s precious set of shot glasses from Vegas. One of them has two turtles going at it with the inscription: “Faster, faster!” And the other one has two pigs doing the same thing, only this time it says “Makin’ bacon.” He says he’s saving them for a special occasion.

    So, if the Queen of England ever decides to cross the pond and pay a visit to East Hogwash, I hope she goes to somebody else’s house for teatime.
    Last edited by AuntShecky; 04-29-2011 at 03:55 PM.

  14. #59
    Registered User Delta40's Avatar
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    I think you capture the unique US cultural outlook toward a Royal wedding beautifully. What a great way to separate yourself by bringing all the familiarity of your own lifestyle to the wedding!

    Loved the comment about Trumpy!
    Before sunlight can shine through a window, the blinds must be raised - American Proverb

  15. #60
    Cat Person DickZ's Avatar
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    Very entertaining, Auntie. Much better than the wedding itself.
    Currently reading Lust for Life by Irving Stone. Recently completed The Origin by Irving Stone, Moguls and Iron Men by James McCague, The Great Bridge by David McCullough, All the Great Prizes by John Taliaferro, Empire by Gore Vidal, Middlemarch by George Eliot, Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe, Animal Farm by George Orwell, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton.

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