Blog # 302                     December 22, 2022

 

Carol and I are planning to go to a movie on New Year’s Eve.  I don’t think I went to any movies in 2022.  When I go to a movie and settle back in one of those new plush seats, I always have a reflexive impulse to strap on a seat belt.  Does that ever happen to you?  No?  Well, strap yourself in right now and let’s see how much trouble I can get into.

 

There was a glitch (isn’t that a great word?) in my online banking site, so I called and, after waiting ten minutes was greeted by a lovely young lady named Crystal.  The account was in Carol’s name and they would only talk to her, but Carol was out with some of her girlfriends playing canasta with her left hand, bridge with her right hand, reading a book and doing the WORDLE with a stylus clenched between her teeth.  What a magnificent creature!  Anyway, when Crystal asked to whom she was speaking, I just said Carol to avoid delays.  I figured that in this age, she would not question me and she didn’t.  Within a few minutes, Crystal and I had solved the problem.  She was such a nice young lady.  I don’t know, maybe Crystal was a guy.  If I can convince her I’m Carol, anything goes.

 

I have two grammatical comments about the above paragraph that will likely be boring to you, so be forewarned.  First is the use of the word girlfriend.  To my grandchildren, a girlfriend is a female person with whom you have a sexual relationship.  If I ask my granddaughter if she was out with her girlfriend, she would be scandalized.  “Poppy, she’s not my girlfriend.  She’s my friend.”   I’m confused. 

 

Second, I used to whom and with whom properly.  Most people today would use who.  It’s just my tiny personal rebellion against the English language turning feral in my lifetime.  Feral, our Weekly Word means having reverted to the wild state.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Have you turned feral on me?  Somehow, I can’t imagine most of you being wild, but who knows.  Wild for me would be getting an Egg McMuffin to go with my Diet Coke.  I hope you are feeling jolly with Christmas around the corner.

 

I remember when I was growing up, every Christmas Eve I would sit by the front door patiently waiting for the bell to ring.  When it did, I rushed to open the door, and there he was – that same bearded old man carrying a sack which contained wonderful goodies for the whole family.  “Mom,” I yelled, “Dad, it’s General Tso.  I get dibs on two eggrolls.”

 

Besides Chinese food, Christmas is the season for candy assortments.  I have told you before that men and women are different.  Here’s another example.  Do you know how a man eats candy, like from a Russell Stover assortment box?  He picks out a piece, eats half of it and then, if he likes it, will eat the other half.  Even if he doesn’t like it, he more often than not will eat the other half.  A woman, on the other hand, will use her finger nail to excavate a tiny chunk of chocolate from the bottom and then look inside.  If she likes what she has discovered, she will eat the candy.  If not, she replaces the piece in its little fluted-paper nest and moves on to the rest.  Men, being by nature chivalric creatures, always allow the women to have their go at the box first.  That leaves us the sloppy seconds which consist of cracked and fingered chocolates with creams and jellies leaking out of holes in their bottoms.  You know I’m right.

 

Harry and Meghan are back on Netflix.  Gag me!  I know you’re going to hate me for this, but I’m just not a Meghan fan.  She was an actress, beautiful, a glutton for fame and she married a Prince.  Harry’s family gave her a royal wedding and made her a duchess.  My in-laws gave me cufflinks.  Now she says the Royal Family was mean to her.  Didn’t she take the time to research their history?  There’s only a thousand years of it.  Mean is what they did to Anne Boleyn.  All they did to Meghan was to make her the most famous person in the world and worth millions of dollars.  But no, the Duchess of Boo-Hoo isn’t happy unless she’s slitting the throats of her husband’s family.  Poor Harry.  If the Royal Family ever reads this, they’ll grant me a Knighthood.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  He that plays the king shall be welcome (Hamlet).  We have our own royal family here.  I’m the King, Carol is the Queen of course and Pops is the Court Jester.  If the British royals make him a knight, they’ll call him Sir Stupid.  But I’m glad he stopped being mad at me for eating his computer keys.  We’re back to being best friends again.  Purr.

 

It has been a busy week for my doctors.  Dr. Eye, Dr. Heart, Dr. Skin, Dr. Asshole.  Damn, at least my brain still works – I think.

 

My eyes and my skin and my heart

This body’s just falling apart

Some nice-looking brains

Are all that remains

Of this fragile and feeble old fart

 

And finally – you’ll love this story – my daughter told me her chicken coop is now equipped with a remote door opener that opens when the sun rises to let the birds out and closes when it gets dark so they can sleep safely.  Really!  I asked her if she had given garage-door clickers to all her cluckers.  She smirked.  What’s next for the most spoiled hens in North Carolina – NetChix?  Then they can watch their favorite movies:

 

The Gizzard of Oz                              A Cluckwork Orange

A Few Good Hens                             Coop Dreams

The Maltese Chicken

 

There’s nothing like a good chicken joke, is there?    I thought I heard Jennifer clucking the other day.  Willa Cather said, “If you cluck often enough, the hens will mistake you for one of themselves.”

 

I’m finished now.  And just in time for you to take a nap.  Have a very Happy Holiday and come back next week.  We’ll have New Year’s hats and everything.  Meanwhile, stay well and count your blessings

 

 Sir Stupid                               Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com