Blog #458                                December 18, 2025

 

I have not seen a Marmatod in fourteen-hundred years.

A Marmatod is like an ox with feathers in its ears,

But somehow still it hears.

 

Well, it’s not really like an ox because it has four eyes,

A dozen antlers, sixteen legs, two flippers and it flies.

At least it really tries.

 

I think that I remember what a Marmatod has got,

But it’s been fourteen-hundred years and that is quite a lot,

So maybe I forgot.

 

That is probably my favorite poem.  It’s whimsical and silly and all the things that I’m not, at least on the surface.  On the surface I’m logical and organized and practical and reserved and dull.  But underneath, somewhere, is a Marmatod, writing poetry and trying to get the feathers out of his ears and looking for someone to play with.

 

Hi there.  Wanna play?  I hope you’re feeling well and enjoying the Christmas music.  Yes, radio stations everywhere are playing Christmas songs non-stop.  We all love Christmas songs, but sometimes I just get overloaded with them.  I mean, how much Burl Ives can one person take?   I think we need some Christmas songs for old people.  You knew that was coming, didn’t you?  How about Grandma Got Run Over by a Wheelchair or All I Want for Christman Is Some New False Teeth.

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  Give thanks for what you are today (Twelfth Night).    I like Christmas music too.  I’m Dreaming of a Cat Christmas.  Santa Paws Is Coming to Town.  Litter Drummer Boy.  Pops bought me a present, some little thing that shakes and rolls around on the floor.  I don’t like it.  My best present is just to have my Pops to take care of me.  Purr.

 

I hope you all are enjoying the December holiday atmosphere?   Are you out shopping?  My wife loves to shop.  I mean she loves to shop, and when she’s really on a roll, you couldn’t pry her away from the stores with Shaquille O’Neal’s shoehorn.  Now, Carol does everything fast.  She plays cards fast, cooks fast, cleans fast, walks fast.  We even have a special nickname for her -- The Princess of Lickety Split.  I think I have it figured out why she does everything fast.  It’s to make more time for her favorite thing. 

 

She’s moving at light speed non-stop

Her pace – well it makes my jaw drop

I found out at last

Why she does things so fast:

It leaves her with more time to shop.

 

It’s nearing the end of the year, and I have a whole gallimaufry of unused thoughts that I need to express before their use-by dates – things like toilets, llamas, famous Jews and cabbages and kings.  But first, I have to tell you what our Weekly Word, gallimaufry, means.  A gallimaufry is an unorganized collection of various things, like a hodge-podge.  I bet you didn’t know that one.

 

Let’s start with the public toilets, by which I mean toilets in restaurants or Walmart or the airport.  FIRST: What happened to flushing?  Is that one of those jobs that “Americans won’t do”?  Was it such a complicated process that we had to turn it over to an intricate and expensive droid?  I want to flush when I’m finished, not when R2P2 has decided I am far enough away?  SECOND:  I want some soap and water.  What happened to faucets?  They’re gone.  Instead, I have to wave my hands under a spout and wait for water to come out.  It doesn’t work the first time – or the second.  Sometimes, I have to conduct the entire 1812 Overture before a brief gush of water comes out.  THIRD:  What happened to towels?  I want a towel, not hot air.  I get enough hot air listening to talk radio.  And besides, the only thing that hot air does is turn the cold water on my hands into hot water on my hands.  What could be more simple than to have a bathroom with a toilet, a sink, some soap and some paper towels?  But instead, we have a fully-automated factory that whisks you in, flushes you out, soaps you off and blows you out.  I hate public toilets.

 

As you know, my oldest daughter has chickens, and she is always concerned about hawks and foxes and other predators.  Recently, some so-called bird expert told her to get a llama, and that would keep the predators away.  A llama!  You see, those animal-specialist types live in their own dream world where crickets sing to puppets and white rabbits wear pocket watches and llamas grow on trees.  Where exactly do you go for a llama, Llamas R Us?  Nacho Llamas?  I remember years ago when a Great Horned Owl showed up on my porch, and I called one of these animal guys and asked what I should feed the creature.  He asked, “Do you have any dead mice?”  Sure, I said, I keep a box in the freezer in case Monty Hall drops by.

 

I read a lot of history, and from my readings I have painstakingly compiled a list of historical figures who, though you didn’t know it, most certainly were Jewish.  You can tell just by the things they said.  For instance:

 

We knew King Arthur was Jewish when he said, “I want a round table.”

We knew the Wicked Witch of the West was Jewish when she said, “I’m not going out in the rain and getting wet.”

We knew Joan of Arc was Jewish when she said, “I’m cold.  Can we turn the heat up?”

We knew Attila was Jewish when he said, “Yes, Hun.  Whatever you say, Hun.”

We knew Venus de Milo was Jewish when she said, “Damn, I broke a nail.”

We knew Helen of Troy was Jewish when she said, “Menelaus, take me to Paris.”

We knew Goldilocks was Jewish when she said, “This bed’s too hard.  I want a new room.”

We knew Little Red Riding Hood was Jewish when she said, “We’re going out with the Wolfs again tonight.”

 

Well, have I wasted enough of your time?  I know that was silly, but it’s the holiday season and I knew you would tolerate a little of my goofiness.  And what about the cabbages and kings?  Maybe next week.  Goodbye for now.  Stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com