“I Got A Rock!”

And this is it!

And this is it!

Oh, this is just great. Here it is, Halloween, and our youngest son told us he was in need of a new costume for going out to Trick or Treat tonight.

screamWasn’t the Scream costume we bought him five years ago, good enough? At the time, he begged for it—on his hands and knees while clutching my leg as I left the store—it WAS top of the line then. It’s only been five years… surely it’s top of the line now, I thought.

spiritI mean I’ve been to the local Halloween Spirit store, and there are tons of plastic faced Frankenstein, Werewolf, and Dracula costumes hanging there from the 1940’s—all just under $9.95. Obviously, still as popular today as they were 75 years ago—why else would they still be hanging around?

So, SCREAM, must still be a scream after only five years…right?

But, that was not the worst of it… oh no. He further informed us that the neighborhood kids deliberately started avoiding our house on Halloween, not because it looked so scary—even though I did put a small fortune and many hour’s of work into making it look EXPENSIVELY spooky—just ask my protesting wife!

No, he said, instead, they are avoiding our house annually because we only hand out a piece of fruit and one piece of candy per Trick or Treater. He then mentioned how the kids all claim that the candy we give out is always the assorted Jolly Rancher kind.

Well, I can’t deny it, they are the best—smallest candy you can buy, that’s cheap!

Also, he mumbled something about how the kids pointed out that we always make sure to tuck into their trick or treat bags, a cost assessment breakdown of every bag of candy we buy for them.

This, along with an explanation that because of the increased cost in candy, we’ve had to cut back on our Halloween candy handouts. Can’t have ill-informed marauding Trick or Treaters now, can we? trick or treat

After all, while the kids count their candy, we parents have to count the cost.

But now my son has warned us that the little urchins are planning an attack on our house—so devastating—that it would put to shame, any house teepeeing, rotten egg tossing, splattered window fiasco’s, they’ve ever done in the past.

And, that it involves the launching of a rock… the size of an asteroid, with the face of a skull no less!

And he said that they told him, that the only thing that could save us; would be if we bought him the best Halloween costume of his choice. And also, forking over the best candy money can buy when they show up at our door on October 31st.

Naturally, being nobody’s fool, I required proof of such a threat.

He produced the picture above. I asked him, “What’s this?” He told me it was the proof I demanded. When I told him I’d need more than just a picture, he said, “Call NASA and ask them if I doubt that a giant skull faced Rock is heading our way on Halloween?”

Naturally, I scoffed at him and called, NASA. Well, as it turns out; he telling the truth!

NASA, confirmed that there is an asteroid size rock hurdling our way for tonight, and that it does have a skull shaped face.

Of course, I immediately broke down and went out and bought my youngest son a new super deluxe Ironman suit, complete with all the fire power he could possibly need to defend our home against marauding ghouls and goblins—and big skull shaped rocks.

Plus, just in case trick or treat attackers were to get by him while he was out trick or treating, I took the added precaution of shelling out thousands of dollars for hundreds of boxes of See’s candies to hand out. You know, just in case.

After all, the last thing you’d ever want to say on Halloween is—wait for it—”I GOT A ROCK.”

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The More Things Stay The Same, The More They Change

light bulb

Have you noticed, ‘The more things change, the more they stay the same.’ And yet, the more things stay the same, the more they change.

We are creatures of habit. We love familiarity. Then there’s that guy on the subway who is always trying to squeeze into a seat next to an attractive woman. I’d say that’s trying to get a bit too familiar. But, I’m talking about the kind of familiar regarding things we’ve come to expect. Things happening in their own appointed time, yet with unwanted progress.

Sure, we say we want to make progress, and yes we do want to make progress… just not at the expense of our comfort zone. Were comfortable with the idea of familiarity. Sometimes, there’s something cozy about having regular patterns.

ass offTake for instance: Holidays always occurring at the same time every year. Baseball’s arrival to assure us winter will end. Football season ushering in autumn and the holidays, and basketball and hockey season to remind us to avoid going outside, or we’ll freeze our tuchus off.

Then there’s the blockbuster movies in summer, Oscar worthy films in the fall, and holiday movies that bring families together for winter. We left spring to the movie studios, so they wouldn’t go bust. Scraping a few bucks together from their box-office bombs by way of the poor saps with money to burn.

You’ll note, that cooperate America and Congress have not let Hollywood fail—OR THE BANKS!

Now granted, we’re not comfortable with hurricane season, fire season, and the political season—Particularly political season… all those politicians, telling us how good they’ve been all year with their lame campaign ads. HEY—WE’ll TELL SANTA!—but we’ve come to accept, bad things happen to good people.

Most notably… the voter!  angry vote

But, despite all this familiar sameness, some have sought to distort the familiar…with progress.

For example: Christmas and Halloween now start… on the Fourth of July! Baseball used to end in early Fall, but now the World Series ends in time for Thanksgiving! And Basketball and hockey still run concurrent—ending in July, and starting again in August!

Blockbuster movies still arrive in summer, but summer is shorter—late May till the Fourth of July! The Fall release of Oscar worthy films (all two weeks) get a second Fall release—in late January, just in time for the Academy Awards! And corporate America and Congress are still burning through our money.

Well, some things never change. Our tax dollars at work—FOR THEM!

hurricanes after menHurricane season no longer see’s hurricanes named after women. But, we’ve never doubted men can be crazy too! Mother Nature is no longer the only one with a fire season, now arsonist have gone and extended it! And political season; well politicians still feel we the voter can’t get enough of a bad thing…

So, now they’re bashing each other all year round—AND AT OUR EXPENSE!

So you see; The more things stay the same, the more they change—like me, now I’m adding even more exclamation points!!!

So I’m Full Of Hot Air Huh?

wind blown

So you all think the wind just blows, huh? Yet, every time I see a weather forecast with me (the wind) in it, all you guys can do is apologize to the viewing public for my being an old windbag.

Saying things like, “Its been very blustery the last couple of days, but starting tomorrow we should see the winds finally die down.” Say what! blustery

What am I… a old blow hard? And even if I had been blowing a little too hard for a couple of days, was I really all that bad?  I mean, what are you trying to say about me; “It’s an ill wind that blows no good.”

tornadoesNow I can understand if you live in the Midwest. I know I’ve made a few enemies there. I admit I have, on occasion, made some bad decisions and hung out with the tornadoes. Yes I know, they’ve kind of GANGED up on you. But you have to admit, every area has undesirables.

At least they weren’t carrying switchblades.

And okay, there are those times where I’ve gotten a little carried away and blew up like a hurricane. But there’s no need for name calling now… is there? hurricanes

You weather forecasters have become so judgmental.

You blame me for all your viewers allergies acting up. I understand that it can be a real bear on some folks. But consider this: I’m not responsible for all the pollen out there. And if I didn’t blow up a storm or two from time to time, imagine how bad the pollen would get. pollen

Then you guys take to blaming me for fanning the flames whenever there’s a big fire. Did I start the fires? I don’t think so.

Yet some people don’t have a problem using me when they want to promote their books and movies. Like “Inherit the Wind” or the granddaddy of them all, “Gone With the Wind.”

Not only did these people profit from the unauthorized use of my name, namely, (The Wind), but I never received financial compensation either! Also, I never complain about those hitchhiking rain, and snow-storms that ride in on my back do I? However this year they did get a little carried away. Sorry East Coast.

But just saying.

swaying palmsAnd lets not forget that I’m responsible for those lovely Tradewinds you all seem to enjoy when you go island hopping, or while you’re laying on a beach somewhere.

And how about when your air quality gets bad and the smog settles in. If I didn’t show up and blow all that gook out, don’t you think your lungs would fill up with all those nasty pollutants. I’m just wanting you all to think a little about all the complaining you do about me, I have feelings you know.

So here’s a little wind warning. Go ahead… don’t throw caution to the wind, and lets see which way the wind blows then? gusty

Inanimate Objects Have An Odd Sense Of Humor

old phone

Are objects in your house laughing at your expense? Do they fall off the counter when your not looking? Slip onto the floor without provocation? Betray you when your in public—I could have sworn I zipped my fly up before I left the house?

Or do your clothes come out faded after you do the laundry?laundry

Okay, I admit, I might be guilty of that one—seeing that I mixed the colors with the whites—but I have a good excuse… I’m a man.

missing socksBut about those missing socks in the washer—that happens to both men and women. However, neither sex is to blame for it.

Wanna know why?

Inanimate objects, are not inanimate at all… and have an very odd sense of humor.

Remember that time when you had your hands full, and you had to dig through your purse for your keys. Remember you securely set your cup of  Starbucks on the roof of your car. Then when you went to open the door, the cup literally LEAPED from the roof of the car, and splattered all over your brand new skirt.

coffee laughingRemember that?

That was sooo… funny. Even total strangers walking by thought so. Especially when you began screaming in tongues. There you were; stomping around, launching objects that were left in your hands to parts unknown—the way NASA used to launch rockets.coffee cup lid

Or how about the time you were both in a hurry for work. Good husband that you are, you decided to make a toasted bagel for your wife.

Do you remember how the butter knife you set down on the rim of the jam jar, chose that particular moment—your wife had just entered the kitchen—to demonstrate counter-diving, as opposed to the more popular cliff-diving.

You both fell over laughing so hard.

Particularly after bending over, simultaneously, and bumping heads in attempting to pick up the knife.

Remember?

Your kids thought it was pretty hilarious too—especially the youngest, who spewed a mouth full of milk across the counter—after both of you wound up sitting on your rear-ends.

But you’ve probably forgotten that now, because both of you were unconscious from the concussions.

Inanimate objects like playing practical jokes too—or is it impractical?

Like the time a screw with a Phillips head slipped from your screw-driver. Do you recall how the whole garage was completely empty, except for the small work-bench across the floor from you?

Funny, how the only item it could possibly roll under—was sitting half a football field away!

You have to feel that joke is an old stand-by for inanimate objects, because it happens so often. It doesn’t matter what item is dropped—be it flat, round, or square—the object will (always) find its way under the only desk, or sofa in an otherwise empty room.

Oh—and then there was side-splitting knee-slapper last Thanksgiving, when you went to take the turkey to the dinning-room table, and it flew off the platter onto…dropping the turkey

An Open Letter To Experimental Drug Companies

rx

Yo…drug companies, I’m in search of drugs, so be warned!

For the record (that would be medical, and please don’t lose them), I have had a little itis of late which has become a real pain in my butt—among other areas.

Now I’ve seen more than enough television in my time—curious about that, what qualifies as enough—anyway, enough to know that you guys run quite a few ads for new drugs that cure everything. Even some ailments that haven’t come along yet.

And I might add (since it is the only math computation I’m really capable of) most of the drug ads you see and hear on television, occur primarily during early morning programming, which is geared to attract the attention of those who are housebound or octogenarians.

Not that I have a problem with either group, but Mr. Harris, my octogenarian neighbor, always seems to move faster to his front door when I try to say hi to him, this in spite of the fact that he uses a walker. My wife say’s its just that he’s hard of hearing… but I wonder.

Anyway I belong to neither of those groups; therefore, I need to have you run more ads in the evening when I might be home in order to find the one that will cure me.

You know the kind of ads I mean, ads where you folks quickly minimize the danger of the side effects that might accompany a particular drug. The kind of side effects that MIGHT be worse than the ailment itself. But don’t worry, I understand why you do this. Mums the word.

I understand modern medicine can do remarkable things…but for a price—and usually at a price most of us cannot afford. Now, I’m not concerned about one of your experimental drugs because I know you already tried them on the wealthy—seeing that they are the only ones who can afford them in the first place.

Not that I’m complaining mind you, I know you have to make a profit off the backs of the extremely wealthy, even if it means that a few of the filthy rich will be sacrificed in the process. But these are  acceptable losses I can live with (literally), while you companies make the profits you need.

So I’ll send you the name of my itus, and when you folks find the cure to it, just send me the hectrocycoline, bromioproxidol, robliotuda, or whatever mide you happen to come up with, and I’ll arrange to make the payments.

I look forward to hearing from you.

 

 

 

Ghostly Revelations

depositphotos_32524867-Funny-cartoon-ghost-tongue-out---halloween-vector-illustration

Do you believe in ghost? Come on, admit it, after you saw us in “Ghostbusters”—you believed, you know you did. And yet, sadly, for some time now, we ghost have had to do our business in the shadows.

No, I’m not talking about us going ass-goblens or whizzing when we have to void. As much as you may not wish to run into one of us—no autographs please—I expect you’d really hate to run into one of us during one of those moments. Talk about your going bump in the night… ew!

Ectoplasm is messy enough, thank you very much, and neither of us need that kind of ghostly encounter.

And let’s face it,— that would be really paranormal.

So you wanna know what has us pesky poltergeist burning the midnight oil of late? Paranormal investigators that’s what.

Another pet peeve? Well, I get so frustrated, when I see those current gas prices. Oh the money I could have saved if I hadn’t passed away.

But as I was saying,.. for centuries we restless spirits roamed cemeteries, castles, and dilapidated hollows in the fullhaunted house knowledge that we could scare up and give anybody the business—well now I guess we have.

Casper move over, things have gotten really spooky. In fact downright dead—the living wonder where we are, or if we have been spirited away? With all the noise those paranormal investigators make, I’m having a lousy night life, not to mention little sleep.

With paranormal investigations no longer a cottage industry, we spirits need not apply. We’re begining to doubt our own existence.

With “Ghost Hunters,” Ghost Adventures,” and “Paranormal Witness,” we’re in a “Paranormal State” of non-being. No longer is it we specters and apparitions doing the haunting. Instead it’s been guys like Jason, Grant, and Zak keeping us up late at night with ridiculous comments.

I love this one, “You can come out, you don’t need to be afraid of us.” like that would ever happen. You’re just damn irritating is all. Asking me to turn on a flashlight. How hard can it be, especially when you leave the top loose, besides you left the batteries in it.

If you really want to be impressed, take the batteries out and watch me light it up! And FYI… we don’t need to drain the batteries on other equipment to materialize. Did it ever occur to you that maybe we wanted to be left alone, particularly at all hours of the night.

It’s we astral-beings who have become the phantoms, and it’s because of you guys.

Bet you paranormal investigator’s are scaring up some pretty good cash right now too. And it’s not just you ghostbusters.

How about those guys who create the devices for you to hunt with, bet they’re scaring up plenty of business.

That ghost equipment probably cost you a small-mint, but no worries though, those TV executives can afford it, you’re making them money. Your shows are cheap to produce, low overhead means big profits. That kind of money was never lying around when I was alive.

EVP Recorder? Give me a small break will ya. All the voices on those things sound electronic, you try it sometime. On second thought don’t, you already speak in monotone. A laser grid for $100, hell you don’t need that for me to cast a shadow. All I need do is step between some light and a wall, and viola!

And a thermal camera for $500. Look, that ain’t me you’re picking up, I’m cold, or have you forgot—I have no blood dummy. And we ghost despise that spirit-box, and for $100? You were taken buddy, those things are totally worthless. They only produce the same sound as your radio would, if it were between stations.rip

If you guys continue making noise at all hours of the night we’ll not only get tired, we’ll never R.I.P.