Archive for February, 2008

Told ya!

Thursday, February 28th, 2008
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February 29, 2008

Dr. Joseph F. Hsu
Center for Colonostic Healing
Highland Hospital
1000 South Avenue
Rochester, New York 14620

Since 1999, I have given FRANK PAOLO four (4) colonoscopies and I can say to a reasonable degree of medical certainty: his head is not up there.

Sincerely,
Dr. Joseph F. Hsu

Nice Trunk. 1976

Thursday, February 28th, 2008

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A lot of people don’t know that steamer shipping trunks in the 17- and 1800’s had rounded tops so sailors couldn’t stack them on top of each other. Now you know.

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Sunday’s Mirror

Tuesday, February 26th, 2008

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“We already have.”

Monday, February 25th, 2008

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It’s easy to mock and make jokes about people we don’t understand. I do – you may too. One of the subjects of my ridicule has been the Amish – and they are strange – by our standards.

C’mon! Horse drawn carts and little electricity? No television, computers, movies, nor internet – in 2008? Are they for real?

But today I know I can never again joke about these gentle people. Two things have changed my mind. One is an Amish tradition; one is an Amish tragedy.

Rumspringa is an Amish tradition more radical than any religious practice to which I’ve been exposed. When they’re around 15 or 16 years old, Amish kids are given a free pass to the outside world. They may smoke, drink, have sex, do drugs – pretty much anything non-Amish kids do. And not behind Amish parents’ backs. This is encouraged by elders so young people can make a critical decision in life: to be or not to be Amish.

What? Give teens with raging hormones a chance to run free and THEN decide if they want to be just plain Amish? Do you know anybody else who believes enough in his or her religion to allow kids that choice? I don’t. But most Amish families have this kind of faith – and four out of five of the kids return to the fold. Hmmm…..

The second Amish fact kicked me harder still.

On October 16, 2006, Charles Roberts, a mentally-ill milkman from Lancaster County, burst into an Amish schoolhouse. He terrorized and tied up 11 young girls and shot each of them before killing himself. Five of the girls died immediately. Many horrified parents arrived at the school within minutes. In anguish and confusion, they talked among themselves as the dead and dying were carried out of the small schoolhouse. And then a calm seemed to settle on the group.

A pushy TV reporter stuck a microphone into the face of a grieving father who had been told only moments before his own daughter was one of those murdered.

“Will you ever be able to forgive the killer?” the insensitive hack asked.

The father, who had tears streaming down his face, looked at the reporter, and smiled a gentle smile. His answer?

“We already have.”

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Hillary the Bitch

Monday, February 25th, 2008

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I used to think Hillary Clinton  had a lot more class than her husband.  I used to think she’d be a good role model for young women – whether I agreed with her politics or not.  I thought  she was smart, strong, sensitive, and a great communicator.  And she was all of those things – when she was on top.  But when Obama started winning more delegates, Hillary became a Bitch.  Today she’s sarcastic, whining, crying “unfair”, and stamping her feet like a spoiled, little brat.

Is that sexist? To me, bitchiness has always been gender-neutral.  At times, Richard   Nixon was a bitch and so was Jimmy Carter. In Rochester, former Mayor Bill Johnson became a bitch when reality sank his little boat and High Falls – and Wease used to be a bitch every day on the radio. Bob Lonsberry still is.

How can you tell if someone’s a bitch?  In a loud, whiney, annoying voice, you’ll hear phrases like: “that’s not fair” and “they’re picking on me.”

To me, the world’s ultimate ANTI-bitch is Ross Perot.  When he ran for President in 1992, many journalists and opponents called him ‘crazy’ – for his nontraditional views. Did Perot cry and whine and snivel? Like hell!

For his campaign’s theme song, Perot  adopted “Crazy” by Patsy Cline and danced a slow dance to it with his wife in front of 20,000 cheering supporters – with a big grin on his face!

He might as well have stuck his middle finger high in the air and said, “STUFF THIS, SNIVELERS!”

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MY Book?

Sunday, February 24th, 2008

Kurt, a good guy from my last Delphi seminar, looked up my book on the internet. Today, almost 15-years after it was originally published, the prices are amazing.

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$30.91 + $3.99 shipping for a used copy from someplace in Georgia, to $77.32 + $3.99 shipping for a ‘new’ copy from New Jersey. Over $80 for a copy of MY book? Christ – we could hardly sell the damn thing at $12.95 when it first came out. Can you imagine what it will be worth when I’m dead? I can hardly wait!

I wonder if the expensive books are the ones I signed or the ones bought off bookshop shelves? And I’d sure like to know who’s selling the few NEW ones. To me, that means those dolts didn’t even open the friggin’ things! Maybe they were hoping for the latest Stephen King novel as a gift but got my book instead. “Uh, thanks honey. Just what I always wanted….”

Meet the Marios

Sunday, February 24th, 2008

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These are my great-grandparents from Porto De Golfo, Italy, near Naples – in the late 1800’s. Actually this looks like two pictures – heavily retouched – and printed together. My Great-Grandfather (the one with the mustache) was a policeman in that small town – my Great-Grandmother looks like she should have been one. I don’t know much about my ancestors but I heard through the years that my Great-Grandmother wasn’t known for her great sense of humor.

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Nader for NOTHING

Sunday, February 24th, 2008

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Ralph Nader is limping for President again. He’s tried two times before – and he’ll probably do as well this time. Some liberals blame him as a ‘spoiler’ in the Gore-Bush 2000 campaign – because if his people had voted for Gore in Florida, Bush wouldn’t have won that state and the election.

I don’t dislike him for that.

Conservatives hate him because he’s a socialist democrat who would heavily tax the rich and the working non-rich alike – and give it to the undeserving poor.

I don’t dislike him for that either.

I dislike Ralph Nader because he’s a self-righteous bore with a gloom and doom puss and a voice that can put manics to sleep. Have you ever seen this man smile? Has ANYONE ever seen this man smile? Ralph always walks around frowning, wringing his hands, with a skyful of black clouds over his head. He’s duller than Allan Greenspan and John McCain put together! Maybe you could invite him to your next party – just in case anyone is having a good time.

C’MON, RALPH – WAKE UP, WOULDJA? Do a few lines, shoot some meth, smoke some crack – ANYTHING – so that undertaker with a shovel walking behind you doesn’t have to keep asking, “Now? Is it time now? Is it time now?”

Toody & Muldoon Didn’t Attend Our Wedding

Saturday, February 23rd, 2008

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When we lived together, T. and I loved watching old black & white sitcoms. Our favorite was ‘Car 54 -Where Are You?’ Remember that fantastic, strange show? You can hear it’s theme song by pasting this address into your Search Box:

www.televisiontunes.com/Car_54_Where_Are_You.html

Anyway, after living together for over 10-years, we decided to get married. T. and her Mom (whom I love) planned the whole classy affair with just 2 “musts” from me:

1. We had to have a sit-down dinner rather than a buffet. At a family wedding, old Italians (with big checks for gifts) don’t expect to eat ‘picnic food’ at the reception. And,

2. No surprises. I’m not a spontaneous person. I’m too self- conscious to feign surprise (much less enthusiasm) in front of hundreds of people. I don’t want to worry about what might come next and how I should act.

So, OK. A few days before the wedding, I was working at my computer and T. walked in.

“I promised not to surprise you at our wedding, so I’m going to tell you something I did. I made copies of ‘Our Song” for the band so they could play it for our first dance as man and wife.”

“That’s great, Lover,” I said, “nice idea.” I smiled. (Pause in the conversation).

“You remember ‘Our Song’, don’t you?”

A sigh and a little eye roll from me: “Of course I do, Darling,” I lied.

I smiled. (Another pause in the conversation).

T. looked at me suspiciously. “What is it? What’s the name of “Our Song”?

The words tumbled out of my mouth like drunken acrobats.

“The theme from ‘Car 54 – Where Are You’?”

The disgusted look and sneer she gave me, made me feel like the proverbial ‘turd in the punch bowl.’ Wrong answer, of course – but she married me anyway.

(And now I know what you’re thinking: “What was it? What was the name of ‘their song’?” Uh, let me get back to you on that.)

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Hillary Clinton’s Bust

Friday, February 22nd, 2008

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