Yeah, yeah, yeah... the output has been paltry. Still busy ... hoping the book premieres at this year's Roswell UFO Fest over the Independence Day Weekend. Hence, between getting the last of the kinks out of the manuscript prior to sending it off to being published and keeping abreast of the duties attached to my day job, well... yeah, it's like that-- that doesn't get my blogging ticket pulled, does it?
If ignorance is bliss, how did Opus and Bill find themselves properly placed with the garbage? They unwittingly checked all the right boxes. At least that's my take. As always, you are free to make up your own interpretation.
Here's the quickie:
An old man collapsed in our local city park. We saw him from across the park and rushed to help.This one,* from my aunt, requires a click to get the gag:
As we saw to his wounds he beckoned us closer and said in a low voice. "I had always wondered why the closer a Frisbee gets the larger it looks... then it hit me!"
I heard someone trying to break in and ran to the cabinet grabbed my automatic, slammed the clip in and chambered a round. As I sneaked down the hall to the back door, I was scared. I opened the door, as slowly and quietly as I could, and grabbed my flashlight off the kitchen counter. I could still hear the noise as he worked on the on the window screen. As I turned the corner, I trained the end of my revolver on him, shining my light in his face. "Hands up!" I yelled as he turned to face me. I had just nabbed a cat burglar.*Extensively rewritten by me.
No one is commenting, but that's OK. That's just a sure sign everyone agrees with me. My supper, however, didn't and my navel is in distress. End of report.
I suppose it is a very sad testament that my current blogging efforts are directed more to daily deletion of those continued efforts of that morass of malignant vermin that crawl all over the web-- creating mischief wherever they go. I won't name names: the culprits are either aware of their own identities or are illiterate. Either way, such serves no worthwhile purpose. Then, again, neither do they.**
*Not to be confused, of course, with the hip-hop ensemble of the same name.***
**And, responsive to the dearth of output offered of late, many might likely hold the same opinion with respect to this blog.****
***What? You haven't bought our new album: Orchestrated Chemical Enhancement - the Penile Poems?*****
****Ya'll will, however, likely enjoy reading that to which my attention has lately been directed.
*****Banned in Tanzania, of course.
Thus I shall remain silent.*
My navel wanted to say something, but couldn't find anyway to put it into words. End of report.
*Actually, I'm just too lazy to be creative right now.**
**That, of course, was not true earlier, as I was able to create another 20 to 30 pages of the Book Two original draft..***
***Again, just for my fans, I'll share an excerpt from today's output in the extended entry.****
****Of course, as before, this is rough and unedited.
Except for Stinky, the only other recruits to be found among the quarry denizens was a trio of defectively-designed genetically engineered kangaroos named Howard, Howard, and Fine. No one felt the trio would be of much assistance, as they seemed to be totally inept at any attempted activity and really did little else but physically abuse each other. Still, their hearts seemed to be in the right place, so Alura welcomed them to the team.
That night Eff/13 reported that the site seemed perfect for their needs and was secure. He thereafter received instructions that the quarry team was to remain in place: the army was ready and would be moving their way at tomorrow's first light. RJ, again, agreed to guard duty, so the rest were able to get to know each other a bit better.
It turned out that Stinky, despite his miniature stature was an extremely talented chef. He prepared a mouth-watering dish for every person present, including Pitilion. A pleasant dining experience was being had by all, save Eff/13, who pushed away a succulent soy steak saying he wasn't hungry, thereby quickly excusing himself, that is until the kangaroo trio began a food fight. Strangely, however, once the cream pies began to fly, everyone finally seemed to really enjoy themselves - just a tiny bit. A bit of silliness proved to be of enormous benefit to the general morale of all members of their camp. Alura was pleased that the roos had already been of actual service to the cause.
Stinky, despite his best efforts to loosen up, found himself still experiencing problems being in close proximity to Pitilion, and they had all caught a whiff of eau d' skunk hanging on the air. Pitilion offered to take a long walk.
After discussion with RJ, Alura decided that his doing so would not be a problem. Like her new friend, Stinky, she, too, was still experiencing problems associated with the Leonid. She had been watching him today, as he'd checked the growth on his left paw claws. The look on his face told her he still had some fight in him. In a few days, his broken claws would have fully regrown and Alura wondered how that would affect his allegiance.
After awhile, the fire burned low and she ceased worrying about "what might be's." While a steady chorus of hilarious "Nyuk, nyuk's," echoed off the quarry walls, Alura found herself drifting toward sleep. Good night, RJ, she voiced in her mind. "Good night, Hor/10," she said to the night sky.
It's true -- I'm a bald-headed old man. It's not that I never dreamed I'd get to this stage in my life ... I've just come upon it sooner than I'd hoped.
My navel, as well, is not as pristine as it was on my day of birth.* Imagine that! End of report.
*Which denotes the actual day on which I came screaming, nakedly so, into the world, not my birthday, which is the annually celebrated subsequent anniversary of that event.
According to Berke's strip for this date, the perfect refutation of intelligent design is ensconced in either Opus, Bill the Cat, or Steve Dallas -- possibly all three.
I just finished my latest book, Harry Potter and the Putrefied Pig.
Buddha belly has reached an all-time new high point but my navel is unconcerned. I am, however, starting to wonder if I need to change my personal eating habits.
I am contemplating some other changes, as well, but I might change my mind about that. End of report.
"There is certainly more in the future now than back in 1964." - Roger Daltrey, Singer/Actor
"Always go to other peoples' funerals, otherwise they won't go to yours." - Yogi Berra
"Facts are stupid things." - Ronald Reagan
"People that are really very weird can get into sensitive positions and have a tremendous impact on history." - Dan Quayle
"Will the highways on the Internet become more few?" - George W. Bush
"We all get heavier as we get older because there's a lot more information in our heads." - Vlade Divac, Basketball player
"I think there is a world market for maybe five computers." - Thomas Watson, chairman of IBM, 1943
"Better make it six, I can't eat eight." - Dan Osinski, Baseball player, being asked by a waitress if he wanted his pizza cut into six or eight slices
"Football players win football games." - Chuck Knox, coach
"Good looking people turn me off. Myself included." - Patrick Swayze, Actor
"Every city I go to is an opportunity to paint, whether it's Omaha or Hawaii." - Tony Bennett, Singer
"Fiction writing is great, you can make up almost anything." - Ivana Trump, on her first novel
Be careful! In case you didn't notice, today is Friday the 13th. We all know that many are superstitious concerning this day. There is actually a term for such fear - Did you know that? If you are paraskevidekatraphobic, perhaps you should stay in today and read blogs.
However, turning on your computer might not be a good idea either. My assistant was out of the office today, and when I turned on her computer to obtain some needed information, it appears that the monitor is fried. Just a coincidence, I'm sure.
At any rate, good luck.
My entry in this month's B4B contest did not move forward in the judging process. I was not surprised, as such has been the case innumerable times previously. However, this is getting monotonous. I am starting to suspect a vast worldwide conspiracy to drive me to the point of pulling all the hair from my head. Oh wait -- I shaved it all off, what?, two weeks ago.
Excuse me now, while I go cry in my Cheerios.
I heard a story years ago which, I hope, will bring a lot of comfort to those who are taunted with the "if you had more faith..." issue. I was listening to a lady who called a radio pastor. The pastor was a wise, grandfatherly gentleman who has that calm reassuring voice that can melt all fear.OK, OK, so you want more?
The lady, who was obviously crying, said, "Pastor, I was born blind, and I've been blind all my life. I don't mind being blind but I have some well meaning friends who tell me that if I had more faith I could be healed."
The pastor asked her, "Tell me, do you carry one of those white canes?"
"Yes I do," she replied.
"Then the next time someone says that, hit them over the head with the cane," He said. "Then tell them 'If you had more faith that wouldn't hurt!'"
Our minister announced that admission to a church social event would be six dollars per person. "However, if you're over 65," he said, " the price will be only $5.50."And for those who have no time to wait for the Moona edition, check the extended entry.
From the back of the congregation, a woman's voice rang out, "Do you really think I'd give you that information for only 50 cents?"
Just as a surgeon was finishing up an operation the patient wakes up, sits up and demands to know what is going on.Now tell me that wasn't
"I'm about to close," the surgeon says.
The patient grabs his hand and says, "Oh, no you're not! I'll close my own incision."
The doctor hands him the needle and says, "OK then, suture self."
I completed about 30 pages of the first draft of Book 2 today. Moona has almost completed the next to last nitpicking of Book 1, and we'll soon discuss all her suggestions, add the agreed changes to those changes made subsequent to the printing of that copy, such changes that were made following my viewing of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy which served to alter the story slightly, hopefully enhancing the climax. For the cover, I am thinking of an extreme close up of Alura looking up into the star-filled night time sky, which is likewise mirrored in her eyes.
Moona's daughter is still supposedly "on board" for the line drawing I expect to use as internal illustrations. But, as always, what will be, will be. I am still hoping to have Book One available for sale by Memorial Day.
For my more deserving fans, I'll give you a sample* of what weird stuff popped out of my mind -- in the extended entry:
In the Why the Hell Not Dept: OTBTJTB™
*It's early in the creation of this book and this portion lacks any sort of editing.
Eff/13 milled about the forest, digging among the roots, seeking succulent tubers when he his large ears detected footsteps softly crunching through the fallen leaves of the forest floor. The sun was low and there was just enough light left to make out the trunks of the trees through the ever present fog. Eff/13, hoping it was a bear, backed up against a tree, tensed, and remained utterly silent.
The sound of the leaves crunching grew closer and he watched darkening mist for signs of the approaching entity. He eye caught a hint of bright red that moved quickly behind the trunk of a tree. It was again lost in the fog as it came out the other side. Eff/13 moved forward, seeking to stalk this enemy and dispatch it with haste.
He moved from behind another tree to catch a sight of bright red moving into the clearing, just ahead. He dove in an effort to tackle the fiery red invader. Another creature stepped into the space between himself and the bright red entity just as he launched, and Eff/13 flew into the lower extremities of this unknown creature with enough force that they both bowled over the crimson creature, and the three of them became entangled in a pile in the midst of the clearing.
"Who are you?" the wolfish creature said as he sought to extract himself from the pile. "You just messed up my plan to snatch a goody filled basket and to play with the mind of a senile old bat."
"I am surely appreciative of your assistance, Mister," said the other creature. "This werewolf almost snuck up on me, this time. It was a bit careless of me to be getting back so late."
"Is your name Isilda?" Eff/13 asked, as the trio had finally untangled and simultaneously rose to their feet.
"Yes," she replied. "Do I know you?"
"No, your granny was looking for you. I'm Eff/13."
"You're an Elee, right?" she asked.
"Look here, Little Miss Red Riding Hood," the wolfish fellow said, "I've got more important things to do than sit around here while you make the acquaintance this Bozo, so I'm off. See you around, Doll." He disappeared into the fog.
"Friend of yours?" Eff/13 asked.
"That guy? Nope. Just a pest, always stalking around, trying to get into my goody basket. I'm glad you were around because I would really have hated to lose this load. Mrs. Pemblebrook sent along a whole zucchini cake. I just love zucchini cake."
"Me too!" the young Elee said.
"Well then, let's get on inside and I'll cut you off a big hunk," she said, climbing the steps to the porch and turning the doorknob.
"I'm right behind you, Red."
Well, I don't think I have been this low since I heard Glen Campbell stole my Tanya Tucker away oh so many years ago.
*Badly, of course.
During my recent shopping adventures, I have seen an amazing variety of products made from silicon, things I had never imagined, like bake ware, oven mitts, and ice trays. My friend just purchased a keyboard completely encased in silicon. I now foresee large portions of vehicle bodies being constructed of the same sort of materials very very soon.
Strangely, I remember seeing a program a few years ago about ceramics being made that were to be used in guns, engines and other metallic items exposed to high heat. I had been waiting for the first of these to hit the market. I am glad to see it happen. Technology is a wonderful thing ... I think.
Berke says quit spending all your time on the Internet and start buying
his books --- they're easy to read and just plain easy, to boot. With very little effort on your part, he claims, they'll freely share your bed.
Gandhi always walked around with no shoes on so he had really rough feet. He was also renowned for his hunger strikes that made him very skinny. He was also a very spiritual man. But due to his poor diet he had very bad breath. So what did that make Gandhi?
A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis!
How does the man on the moon get his hair cut?
Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, but when they lit a fire in the craft it sank, proving once and for all that you can't have your kayak and heat it, too.
Two boll weevils grew up in South Carolina. One went to Hollywood and became a famous actor. The other stayed behind in the cotton fields and never amounted to much. The second one, naturally, became known as the lesser of two weevils.
A three-legged dog walks into a saloon in the Old West. He sidles up to the bar and announces, ''I'm looking for the man who shot my paw.''
This guy goes into a restaurant for a Christmas breakfast while in his hometown for the holidays. After looking over the menu he says, ''I'll just have the eggs Benedict.'' His order comes a while later and it's served on a big, shiny hubcap. He asks the waiter, ''What's with the hubcap?'' The waiter sings, ''Oh, there's no plate like chrome for the hollandaise!''
When she told me I was average, she was just being mean.
Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused his dentist's Novocain during root canal work? He wanted to transcend dental medication.
A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. ''But why?'' they asked, as they moved off. ''Because,'' he said, ''I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.''
A doctor made it his regular habit to stop off at a bar for a hazelnut daiquiri on his way home. The bartender knew of his habit, and would always have the drink waiting at precisely 5:03 p.m. One afternoon, as the end of the workday approached, the bartender was dismayed to find that he was out of hazelnut extract. Thinking quickly, he threw together a daiquiri made with hickory nuts and set it on the bar. The doctor came in at his regular time, took one sip of the drink and exclaimed, "This isn't a hazelnut daiquiri!" "No, I'm sorry," replied the bartender, "it's a hickory daiquiri, Doc."
A hungry lion was roaming through the jungle looking for something to eat. He came across two men. One was sitting under a tree reading a book; the other was typing away on his typewriter. The lion quickly pounced on the man reading the book and devoured him. Even the king of the jungle knows that readers digest, and writer's cramp.
A woman has twins, and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named ''Amal.'' The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him ''Juan.'' Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his mom. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Amal. Her husband responds, ''But they are twins - if you've seen Juan, you've seen Amal!''
You likely have seen this one before...
A cowboy in Texas got pulled over by a State Trooper for speeding.
The trooper started to lecture the cowboy about his speeding, and in general began to throw his weight around to try to make the cowboy feel uncomfortable. Finally, the trooper got around to writing out the ticket. As he was doing that, he kept swatting at some flies that were buzzing around his head.
The cowboy said, "Having some problem with Circle flies there, are ya?"
The trooper stopped writing the ticket and said, "Well yeah, if that's what they are. I never heard of Circle flies."
So the cowboy says, "Well, Circle flies are common on ranches. See, they're called Circle flies because they're almost always found circling around the back end of a horse."
The trooper says, "Oh," and goes back to writing the ticket. Then after a minute, he stops and says, "Are you trying to call me a horse's ass ?"
The cowboy says, "Oh no, officer. I have too much respect for law enforcement and police officers to even think about calling you a horse's ass."
The trooper says, "Well that's a good thing," and goes back to writing the ticket.
After a long pause, the cowboy says, "Hard to fool them flies though."
There’s fodder from the media for blogger publication
Of a contest-entry post on lying or on fornication.
Surf the net or tune to news on your favorite TV station
And hear the latest gossip as it sweeps across the nation:
Pat O’Brien’s "escape" to rehabilitation
From obscene phone messages internet circulation.
Corey Clark's fornication and habitual prevarication.
Lying of the witness in the Jackson investigation.
The runaway bride's abduction -- indeed a fabrication.
[But will she be convicted and sent for incarceration?]
Not to mention fake ID's for aliens' illegal immigration.
This post could be much longer, but -- prone to procrastination--
I will publish this short entry without further hesitation.
So you know, so many lies are found, and so much fornication,
Including all would form a post exceeding the limitation.
My navel has been quiet this day. I, personally, was under the weather and enjoyed the respite from its constant badgering. I eavesdropped on its discussion with itself long enough to determine it was busily trying to synchronize its idiosyncrasies. That is all. End of report.
Naked, in the middle of the bed, curled into a fetal position, I lay. Endless thoughts of past, present, and future assailed my mind. I was lost, totally. to be continued?
The actual purpose of this post has less to do with titties than with my navel. It was whining about my having done two very early posts this very day categorized as NNGR™'s without a single mention of my belly button. Said indentured subject is still present and still resides in a spot atop my Buddha belly at the very point such belly hangs over the waistband of my unmentionables. That is all. End of report.
Well the following melodrama is presented for your pleasure as my entry in this month's contest. It seemed the topic was either lying, fornicating, or going home. I tried to supply a tale of twisted home coming intermixed with some expected fornication. About the lie ... it was Old Lady Wilson's. Think about that.
OTBTJTB™The big day had arrived and Detective 1st Grade Lee Roy "Two Words" Jackson was stuck with an open file. Old Lady Wilson, that crazy old witch that lived catty-corner from his boss, the Dustbury Police Chief, had found her paisley panties missing when she awoke from a morning nap some time around 10:00 a.m. this morning. Bubba, as said Police Chief was called by all, at his insistence, had personally charged Det. Jackson with finding the culprit, "PDQ!"
by Terence A. (Tiger) Russell
Lee Roy wanted to get on the way to Aphid so as to pick up his girlfriend, Tina Marie. She was being released from the State Pen at 5:00 p.m. this very day. He'd waited every moment of every day of that last 14 months since she entered that "guilty" plea to a lesser included in exchange for her testimony in the Butane murder case. It had been a very long and lonely 14 months and Lee Roy was ready for some two party extracurricular activities of a sexual nature.
All he had so far was: 1. some old wino saying he had seen a tall goofy looking guy walking in front of the Old Lady Wilson's house, traveling in the direction of the Quickee Mart on Pine about 10:00 a.m.; 2. Habib, the day man at the Quickee Mart said that some one came in a little after 10:00 a.m. and bought a Mountain Dew; 3. The only person in town known to be goofy looking as well as being addicted to Mountain Dew also happened to be the guy who'd punched Det. Jackson in the nose at his High School prom 30 years ago, Perry Pitts.
The clock on the desk said 3:12. Jackson drummed his fingers on the desk. Pitts had a couple of prior trips to the Pen, but had kept his nose clean for the last 30 days or so, by all accounts that Lee Roy could access. The Detective removed a Form PC-122 entitled "Authorization for Warrant" from the form file cabinet near the water cooler.
He filled in the information he had about Perry Pitts: name, date of birth, suspected location, suspected crime. "Describe probable cause for arrest." Lee Roy began to scribble onto the lines provided. "Pitts purportedly seen in area of crime at time of offense by reliable senior citizen." He affixed his signature and looked back at the clock. "3:14." He rose from his chair and looked toward Bubba's empty office. He'd be down at The Corral, interviewing the newest crops of waitresses, most likely. Lee Roy'd have to take the Form PC-122 to the judge himself.
The Judge, of course, was Justice of the Peace Marivan P. Mitchell, who most time held court in the barbershop behind the Sack'n Save, where he still shined shoes, as he had for most of his 87 years of life. A quick 12 minute drive across downtown Dustbury and Lee Roy was shoving the Form PC-122 under Judge Mitchell's nose. Judge Mitchell looked down at the form, then looked up at the Detective and asked, "Did he do it?"
"The evidence against him is pretty strong, Judge," Lee Roy replied. The judge marked his "X" in the appropriate place and shoved the form toward Jackson.
The detective drove back across toward the station, purposely overlooking that Newton lad breaking through a car window with a crowbar in front of the Catholic Church and some guy dragging his own ugly sister, Sarah, behind a tree. It was a 45 minute trip to Aphid, if traffic was light. He'd have the siren and flashing red strobe to assist his progress, if necessary. He looked at his watch as he pulled into the station parking lot: "3:51." Cutting it close, he thought. Still he knew all he needed to do was to write Pitt's name across the top of a file folder, place the approved Form PC-122 inside, and lay both in a central position on the pile of material in the midst of Bubba's desk.
Lee Roy was well on his way to Aphid when Bubba walked into the office, saw the file in the midst of his inbox, as well as it's contents, and sent Officer Pete Pearson over to Pitt's house to effect the arrest. Pearson knocked on the door and, almost immediately, Pitts opened the door wearing a tattered terry-cloth bathrobe.
"Hey Pete, what's up?"
"Got a warrant for your arrest, Perry."
"Someone burgled Old Lady Wilson's house this morning, says here you're good for it."
"No way! I'm being framed."
"Well, you'll have to tell that to the Judge, Perry. I've gotta take you in."
"OK, OK, I know. Let me get dressed here, OK?" At that point, Pitts dropped the robe to the floor exposing the fact that his rather portly and rotund body was completely naked except for that portion which was covered by a rather fetching pair of paisley panties. "It'll be good to go back home for awhile, Pete. I miss those wild shower orgies, you know. Outside sex just never fills the full bill. If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'."
Tina was glad to go home too, but was not quite as eager to see Lee Roy as he'd imagined. Still, he was satisfactorily rewarded for his efforts on her behalf.
[Making up for lost times???]
Just came rolling home, saw how badly my dogs needed a bone, ran right in and got a knick-knack but couldn't find the danged paddy I needed to whack it. What's up with that?
I have finally concluded that I'd much rather go out as part of a case study than as part of a statistical analysis. That is all. End of report.
My navel is perplexed at the lack of comments here of late. What's yours?
Well, I think I have most of the trilogy done. Of course, it is still swimming in my head, but the storyline is mostly complete. However, as I go over the details, I find there are changes that need to be done to the first book to comply with the later storyline. Also, after seeing this weekend's top grossing movie, I thought up a much better ending too. As such, I may be working very very hard on the storyline changes, as the nit picker is working hard to find the problems with the original manuscript, the illustrators are working on the pictures, and hopefully my good friend in Tinyville is working hard to compose a fantastic cover.
However, my plan to have the first book ready for sale by Memorial Day is looking less likely by the moment. I guess if I'd get back to my part of the process ...
My navel is responsible. It made me show you this link. Whatever you do, do not go there and press the big red button. I warned ya! End of report.