Blog #184

 

Do you think my blog is too political?  Some people do and have voiced their complaints.  Well what isn’t political these days?  Limerick Oyster makes fun of me, my wife, my cat and anyone or anything that tickles, astounds or infuriates me.  So, let me be clear.  I hereby officially refuse to stop making fun of Donald Trump or Joe Biden or the stupidity that is rife on both sides.  If you want something humorous that ignores what’s going on in the world, I suggest that you watch a Looney Tunes cartoon.   If you want topical and smart and humorous, read on.  Th-th-that’s all, folks!

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Are you feeling alright?  Are you keeping busy?  Are you fed up with this Covid shit?  I apologize for the profanity, but I’m beginning to feel like Edmond Dantés scratching himself out of the Chateau d’If.  Is this ever going to end?  Are my grandkids ever going back to school?  Am I ever going to a movie?  Am I ever going to see what the new checker at the grocery store looks like?  She has nice eyebrows.

 

One thing I can do during Covid is walk.  I take a walk every morning around our neighborhood, and almost every morning I see a charming couple.  They are in their 80s, I guess.  They walk slowly but steadily and each wears a floppy hat, a long-sleeved safari shirt and long pants.  The charming part is that they hold hands continuously.  Do you know the difference between continuously and continually?  Continuous is non-stop, happening every microsecond.  On a beautiful day, the Sun shines continuously.  Continual is often, but off and on.  A person with a sore throat coughs continually.  Am I not just a bottomless cornucopia of useless what-nots?  Don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz. 

 

Today, Carol and I left at the same time to take our walks, but, unlike the couple holding hands, we don’t walk together.  In fact, we don’t even leave the building from the same door.  She goes upstairs and leaves from the main entrance like the aristocracy and I go downstairs and leave by the side door where the trash dumpster is.  And the recycling.  I guess I could be recycled.  There are plenty of unattached women out there and I can drive at night.  But I’m not interested because my wife still makes me horripilate.

 

Now, I have a few readers out there who say they are never stumped by my Weekly Words.  They know all of them – so they claim.  But if you tell me you know what horripilate means, you are, as Joe Biden would say, a lying dog-faced pony soldier.  And they call him the high-class candidate!  Ok, I won’t keep you in suspense – horripilate means to get goosebumps.  That’s it.  So the next time a server at a restaurant is so attractive you get turned on, just say to him or her, “Oh, you’ve made me horripilate.”  Then see how your soup tastes when it comes out.

 

Recently, I had dinner with Carol and two other lovely ladies.  As we sat down, I grabbed their attention.  “I just want to say what a pleasure it is to be with three beautiful women, and since I am sitting here with three women, this will most likely be the last words you hear from me tonight.”  With three women at the table, getting a word in edgewise is harder than making Mike Pence smile.

 

Two of the women were widows.  In our age group, there are many unattached women and unattached men who would like to be recycled.  And so they engage in – well, there’s no other word for it -- courting.  I remember when I was in high school and the question was always, “Did you get to first base?”  “Second base?”  And so on.  I was never precisely sure what arriving at those plateaus actually involved, but we all had our own ideas.  Now, at our age and especially during this time of Covid, the definitions are different.

 

Getting to First Base now means driving together in the same car.  Second Base means driving together in the same car without masks.  Third base means showing each other the political stickers you bought but are afraid to put on your bumper.  And a Home Run is sitting on a comfortable couch, watching Netflix and eating out of the same bowl of popcorn without surgical gloves.  Fairy tales can come true if you’re young at heart.

 

Another thing I can do during Covid is play bridge on line.  I signed in the other day and I was asked if there was anyone I would prefer not playing with.  I replied. “Joe Biden.  All he ever says is No Trump!”  It is a sadly grotesque commentary on our society that each person would be happier if his favorite Presidential candidate would never open his mouth.  Think of that.  You Trump fans quiver in fear every time The Donald begins to speak.  And you Biden fans feel the same way about Joe.  How have we come to this pitiful position?   Maybe we shouldn’t let them speak at all.

 

Those two men should not say a peep

Just leave all the words to their VEEP.

‘Cause one, with each breath,

Just scares me to death

And the other one puts me to sleep.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  There have been many great men who have flattered the people but whom the people never liked (Coriolanus, modern text).  I don’t like any of the candidates, but I always vote Demo-Cat.

 

I tawt I taw a puddy tat!  Cats are so different from dogs.  When you walk toward a dog, it will move out of your way.  But if you walk toward a cat, you get a look that says, Where do you think you’re going, old man.  This is my space.  I may have only one paw, but it is armed and dangerous.

 

Ok, it’s time for me and Shakespeare to go.  Stay well, count your blessings and come back next week – all of you -- Democrats, Republicans, Socialists, Progressives.  If you’ve still got a sense of humor, Limerick Oyster will make you laugh and maybe even horripilate.  But if you’ve lost your sense of humor, well, th-th-that’s all, folks.

 

Porky                              Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com