Blog #214

 

I have a strange story.  It’s not funny, just a bit bizarre.  I called a good friend last week and scheduled a meeting at McDonald’s to catch up.  My friend showed up wearing a blue baseball cap.  You remember MAGA hats.  They were red and stood for Make America Great Again.  This one was blue and said MASA on it with the words Make America Sane Again.  Cute.  He said he doesn’t wear it very often because he’s afraid someone will shoot him.  When we were finished talking, he put his hat back on and we started to walk out when a man accosted us.  He was 40-ish, tall, slender, wearing a khaki-green jumpsuit festooned with golden pins, little eagles and rifles.  “Hey, Man,” he said, “I overheard you saying you were afraid of getting shot.  You need to be carrying.”  At this point he pointed to a large handgun sticking out of a loose pocket below his right knee.  It was large and metallic and serious.  He then, very politely, suggested we should buy guns and get trained and carry our weapons so we wouldn’t be afraid of being shot.  This was in the middle of McDonald’s!  He was not threatening at all.  Actually, it was sort of comforting to know this guy would eagerly protect us if some danger arose by blasting holes in the offending parties.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are all feeling well.  I have seen lots of cowboy movies and crime TV, but actually seeing a gun that near, especially in the possession of a jump-suit wearing, medal-festooned cowboy telling me the only way I can be safe buying a Big Mac is to walk in looking like Wyatt Earp – well, it was disturbing.   Festooned is a good word, isn’t it?  Let’s make that out Weekly Word.  It means adorned with ribbons or other decorations.

 

Last week was Opening Day for the St. Louis Cardinals.  I don’t know about other baseball towns, but here in St. Louis, Opening Day is Mardi Gras, St. Patrick’s Day and the Fourth of July all stuffed in a duffle bag with beer and red hats and Clydesdales.  Those are the big horses which are the hallmark of Anheuser Busch Brewing Company which sponsors the Cardinals.  Each opening day, those huge Clydesdales prance around the stadium (Busch Stadium) to show off their strength and beauty.  But is it safe?  I consulted the CDC guidelines to see if, during Covid times, the large horses were allowed onto the field of a crowded stadium. Yes, I found out, they were fine, but ponies were not allowed. 

 

The CDC governs, of course

Their guidelines we all must enforce

You’ll have to stay off

With a fever or cough

Or if you are – a little hoarse.

 

Little hoarse?  Pony?  Just wanted to see if you were awake.  As long as we’re doing pony jokes, I have a dog joke. 

 

Fritz and Pedro are out walking their dogs.  Fritz has a big, beautiful German Shepherd; Pedro a tiny Chihuahua.  It’s a warm day and Fritz says, “Let’s go into that bar and get a beer.”  Pedro replies, “The sign says NO PETS ALLOWED.”   Fritz says, “Watch this.”  He puts on dark sunglasses and saunters into the bar with the German Shepherd.  A few minutes later he comes out looking refreshed.  “Well?” asks Pedro.  “No sweat,” says Fritz, “with the dark glasses they thought I was blind and that the German Shepherd was my seeing-eye dog.  The beer was great.” 

 

So Pedro borrows the dark glasses and heads into the bar where he is immediately accosted by a burly bouncer.  “No dogs, Mister,” he barks.  Pedro responds with confidence, “Can’t you see I’m blind?  This animal is my seeing-eye dog.”  “No chance, Bozo,” growls the bouncer.  “That’s a Chihuahua.”  “What?” shrieks Pedro.  “They gave me a Chihuahua?”

 

We used to have a dog named Alex.  After writing that joke, I started thinking about him and I commented that Alex was a wonderful dog and that I missed him sleeping on my pillow.  Carol said, “That’s alright, you’ll see him in Doggy Heaven.”  Doggy Heaven?  First of all, I’m not even sick.  And second, is that where she thinks I’m going?  Doggy Heaven?  I guess I’m nothing more than an Alta-Cocker Spaniel to her.  Probably on our wedding night she thought to herself, “What! They gave me a Chihuahua?” 

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Well, heaven knows I love you (Othello).  I certainly love him more than some stupid dog could.  Dogs are loud, drooling, pooping monsters who are too stupid to know a squirrel from a bean bag.  Cats are always climbing because they know they belong in Heaven.  Dogs are always digging down because they know where they belong.  Purr.

 

Last Sunday, the 11^th, was National Pet Day, and I must admit that Shakespeare is a loyal, loving and beautiful pet.  So there.  Wednesday, the 14^th, was National Gardening Day.  I have no gardening skills.  I love flowers and all growing things, but I am just no good at it.  Besides, it feels like growing tomatoes is a lousy way to spend a lot of time and effort trying to save a dollar and a half.  And today, the 15^th, is Tax Day.  But it’s not.  They’ve changed it to May 15^th because, since the entire country has been locked in their houses with nothing to do for 12 months, they couldn’t possibly have had enough time to do their taxes.  Genius!

 

I finally have a solution for this “feeling old” thing.  As soon as we reach Medicare, we should change our ages to Centigrade.    I’m serious now.  Listen, I am 75 years old, but in Centigrade (let’s see, subtract 32 and multiply by five ninths) -- that makes me 23.  Now doesn’t that sound better?  80 becomes 26; 85 becomes 29.  I bet you feel younger already.

 

This blog has been festooned with stories of dogs and ponies and, of course, Shakespeare.  I hope you got a chuckle or two.  I don’t know what we’ll talk about next week, but it will be strange.  See you then.  Stay well and count your blessings and change your age to Centigrade.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com