Blog #274 June
9, 2022
Do
you know the difference between someone who is weird and someone who is a
hermit? A hermit carries a sign around
with him that says DO NOT DISTURB.
A weird person carries one that says ALREADY DISTURBED. I try to carry one of each. You can always find us weird guys at
McDonald’s in the morning. Here’s who I
saw today. These are real people.
·
Little Man:
He’s 4’6”, Hispanic, speaks no English, eats an Egg McMuffin.
·
Clean Man:
Wipes his table down with a pertinacious zeal that is mesmerizing,
leaning over to get within an inch of little spots that he wipes aggressively
with wet napkins. He continues to find
new spots as he eats his sandwich.
·
Loud Man:
Always at the same table with the same computer and the same headphones
talking to someone in a loud voice as if he thought the rest of us couldn’t
hear him.
·
Blog Man: Reads
his book, always has his Diet Coke, always does his Wordle, always looking at
everybody else as if he were collecting stuff to write a blog about.
There
are more. None of us has ever said a
word to the others. Maybe a nod once in
a while. There are two aspects to being
a hermit -- one, you want to be alone; two, who the hell wants to be with you
anyway?
Do you remember Elizabeth II, Queen of the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland?
Last week she celebrated 70 years of reign, and we here in the Colonies
have just been going ape. Kate is so
this and Meghan is so that and the children are adorable and look at her dress
and on and on and on. Didn’t we fight a
war to get rid of that family? Haven’t
we outgrown the adoration of foreign royalty? Didn’t we make George III the
only white character in Hamilton to emphasize how much we hated him? I don’t get it. We don’t need royalty in this country. We have Johnny Depp and Kim Kardashian.
I visited Dr. Retina this
week – no shots; I’m cured. On the
plexiglass separating me from the receptionist was a sign informing us that
anyone verbally or physically abusing an employee will be ejected and
prosecuted. I said to the receptionist,
“Wow, this must be a tough job. What’s
that all about?” People who don’t want
to wear masks cause lots of trouble, she said.
Geesh, what a world!
And now we don’t even have
enough lifeguards. Honestly, this
country is becoming more dysfunctional by the minute. But I have a simple solution to the lifeguard
problem: any immigrant who sneaks into the country by swimming across the Rio
Grande should instantly be certified as a lifeguard and given a job. What a spectacular example of the American
Dream!
We’ll
give you some shades and a Speedo
Some
chips and a breakfast burrito
Won’t
need a Green Card
When
you’re a lifeguard
At
a country club south of Toledo.
Hi there and welcome
back. I hope you’re feeling well and not
feeling as depressed and disappointed as Amber Heard’s lawyers. Here’s another thing I’m riled up about: Motel 41, Room 150 in
Evansville, Indiana. Do you remember the tall escaped convict and
the little blond guard who recently helped him escape? They were Casey White and Vicky White, and in
their Bonnie and Clyde flight across America, they stayed at Motel 41, Room 150
in Evansville. And now, believe it or
not, that room is booked solid for months in advance by people just itching to
revel in the aura of those disgusting examples of White trash (they were both
named White; get it?) I know we’re all
trying to figure out how to red-flag potential killers. I’d start with the guest list for that room.
Let’s shift to something fun
and exciting, like baseball – the hitting, the running, the spitting. What’s with the oral
fixation of American baseball players?
And by American, I
mean the Dominicans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Venezuelans, Koreans and Japanese
who make up most of the American National Pastime. They spit, they chew, they expectorate. They fill their mouths with nuts, gum,
tobacco, candy and pebbles and constantly and noisily pollute the dugouts and
the field with filth. Am I
over-reacting? It’s disgusting. Basketball players don’t spit. Football players don’t spit. Bowlers don’t spit. Teachers don’t spit on the classroom floor. My rabbi doesn’t spit. Even the announcers are commenting on the
action: Yadier Molina just set the new
record for spitting forty-two bags of polly seeds onto home plate during a
nine-inning game. It’s
disgusting! Did I say that already?
Polly
seeds, for those of you who are too young to remember Foghorn
Leghorn, are what we used to call sunflower seeds. Urban Dictionary, another electronic resource
no human being can do without, suggests the name came from the fact that
parrots eat sunflower seeds and all parrots are named Polly.
I had a friend who bought a parrot. On the first day, the bird said a dirty word
and, as punishment, my friend stuck the bird in the freezer for twenty
minutes. When she took the bird out, it
shivered uncontrollably and said, “I’m so sorry. I’ll never say a bad word again. But let me ask you something -- what did that
poor chicken say?”
Message from Shakespeare: Foul words is but foul wind
(Much Ado About Nothing). I
never say bad words, only meow and purr, so Pops will never punish me for
that. I do scratch his arm once in a
while, but he loves me anyway. What a
pushover! Purr.
Movie Review: Top Gun – Maverick was
good. Not the greatest movie ever, but a
rip-roarin’ action flick with a large and well-done performance by Tom Cruise.
Our
Weekly Word today is pertinacious, which means
holding tenaciously to a fixed purpose.
And my fixed purpose now is to make sure you stay well, count your
blessings and come back next week. There
might be another parrot joke.
Michael
Another week without
mentioning my wife, but I haven’t forgotten how much I love her. Saturday is our 55th Wedding
Anniversary. If you’d like to send
congratulatory wishes, please write them on the signature line of a deed to a
40-acre ranch in Napa Valley and forward an image to
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