Archive for December, 2008

Love Bites

Tuesday, December 30th, 2008

Many years ago, I was floundering in a melancholy pool of sadness. Ever been there? Each new day brought a fresh dump of disappointment, dashed hopes, and dreams crushed. My best friend, Sunday the Cat, watched me carefully and knew something was very wrong. My voice was different, my actions weren’t the same, and I shuffled without energy through the daily motions of life. Sunday became very concerned.

If you’ve ever been owned by a cat, you know exactly what I mean. Even nutso cats like Sunday have more sensitivity in one paw than Conservative Republicans can scrape up in an entire lifetime. I don’t care what you say – they KNOW.

One night I came home, walked into the bedroom, barely acknowledged Sunday who was sleeping on my pillow, sat at the foot of my bed, and began to cry – loudly. Reality had beaten me into a bloody pulp once again.

Suddenly, without warning, Sunday flew across the bed and bit me on the back of my arm – HARD! I jumped up enraged!


But Sunday didn’t run like she normally did after pulling a sneak attack. She just sat there, looked at me, and tilted her head to the side. In an instant I knew what she was trying to say.

Sunday didn’t want to see me suffering. She hated me crying. She wanted me to stop – but what could she do? She did the first thing that came to her mind. It wasn’t the most eloquent bit of communication – but I never remember anyone saying anything that was more effective.

When I picked up Sunday to take her to the kitchen for her albacore tuna, I was still crying and laughing and I hugged her extra hard. She pretended not to notice.


Want to read the BEST Sunday story? Go to

“Sunday the Cat vs. Hannah the Stripper”

Free to Hate

Saturday, December 27th, 2008

“Barrack the Magic Negro”

Free speech can be a bitch sometimes. When nitwits go over the line of decency, good taste, and common sense, most of America is appalled. And we should be – as we vigorously defend our most important freedom- Freedom of Speech. And we must defend it – even for assholes.

Conservative Republicans are tossing around the song above which is sung to the tune of “Puff the Magic Dragon.” It was first played on the national airwaves in 2007. Any guess by whom? Bingo! Mr. Oxy-HYPOCRITE-Cotin himself, Rush Limbaugh. Liberals are screaming all over the country as loudly  as the blind people who are bellowing over Saturday Night Live’s tasteless portrayal of New York Governor, David Paterson.

Everyone should just take a deep breath and smile. Smile because this is America and any looney is free to say or sing just about anything that doesn’t directly threaten other people. May it always be so. Smile because trounced Republicans are floundering around for a new identity and this song is now associated with them. It’s an association at which most Americans will hold their noses. Smile because in the grand scheme of things, this song means about as much as a pimple on a gnat’s ass.

And smile because the man we elected President is now assuming office with quiet dignity and resolve as President Hayseed and Vice President Hateseed sink into oblivion.

Smile – America is dawning again.


Tie Died

Friday, December 26th, 2008

Manhattan, 1972. Retail shopping CRUSH-week between Christmas and New Years and every New Yorker thought it his Constitutional Right to exchange every doofus clothing item he got for Christmas – or thought he got for Christmas – or got for Christmas around 1965.

I worked in Barneys, the World’s Largest Mens’ store and the cacophony of customer craziness was mind numbing. “Sir!”, “Sir!”, “Sir!”, “Pardon me, Sir!” “Sir!”, “Excuse me. May I get some service here?” “Sir!”,“Sir!”, “Sir!”,”Hey, Sir!” “Sir!”,“Sir!”,“Sir!”.

I think I can speak for the majority of the 1st Floor Sales Team when I say we hated them – hated every goddamn one of them who waved a crumbled Barney’s sales receipt at us. There were thousands of them – pushing, pleading, whining, yelling, DEMANDING!

The 1st Floor Team had a little pool going to see which one of us would snap first. I was the odds-on favorite and for good reason. The week before, I was demoted from sweaters to ties because I refused to take a return on a smelly sweater the guy must have worked out in. Supposedly, I had embarrassed the guy by announcing my suspicion in front of other customers who, supposedly, gave a damn.

Working in the tie department was a nightmare! Barneys advertised that they had 100,000 different ties. I never counted them but I must have folded that many at least once a day. There were racks of ties – tables of ties – walls of ties – cases of ties – ties everywhere you looked!

It was about 9:40 pm – 20-minutes until closing – and the crowd had gone. I was exhausted and not exactly in a chipper Barneys mood. I was just mindlessly folding ties on the counter – minding my own business – when this businessman walks over.

“Uh, Sir,” he says, “I don’t see the tie I want here.” SNN…..

I slowly and painfully looked up. “Mister, we carry over 100,000 ties. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

“Nope. I looked.” SNNNA….

“Well, Sir, if you looked and didn’t find it, we must not have it. I’m sorry.” And then I started refolding my pile of ties. “Would you GO AWAY,” I thought, “JUST GO AWAY!”

“Well do you have any more ties in the back?” SNNNAAAAAPPPPPPP!

“The ties in the back? No – those are our really good ties. We save those for ourselves. We don’t even have to pay for them – and they’re great ties – but you can’t buy one. Sorry.”

“Are you being smart with me? I pay your salary, you know!”

“Really? Great. Can I have a raise?”

“I’d like to see your manager. NOW!”

“Oh sure, I’ll get him. He’s in the back with the good ties.”

I walked to the back of the store and kept on walking. The A-train stop was only half a block away. I never even bothered to go back for my paycheck.


Merry Christmyths

Thursday, December 25th, 2008


Nah. Although I’m sure His reps on earth are happy to take gifts that day, no one actually knows when Christ was born – neither the date nor the year. Late December wasn’t even a contender until the 4th Century when holy men hooked it up with the Winter Solstice. The year? Many theologians put it between 4 and 6 – “BC”!


No. Nor you, your kids, nor your spouse. Poison centers are so overwhelmed with frantic calls around Christmas, many have ‘They’re Safe!’ ads on their web sites.


You may have felt you WANTED to kill yourself to escape holiday stress – but few people do. A 35-year study from a research group in Minnesota conclusively determined that there is no correlation between suicides and holidays.

Christmyth #4: THERE IS A SANTA CLAUS.

This one’s TRUE. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

Jingle Bell Cyst

Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008


My friend Christine used to be a dancer.

She got injured, couldn’t work for a long
time, and had to accept public assistance
for her medical needs.

Unfortunately around Christmas a few
years ago, she developed an ovarian
cyst and had to go to the Emergency

Maybe it was because she was a young
dancer or on Medicaid – but for whatever
reason, she said she was never before
treated as disrespectfully in any medical
facility. She believed men “examined”
her who might not even have been

Since it was around Christmas, I put
some new lyrics to a traditional song
to commemorate this memorable

(Sung loudly to the tune of ‘Jingle Bells’)

Got a cyst, got a cyst,
on my ovary.
Now my legs are wide apart,
in Emergency.

Everyone gets to look,
the Doctor let’s them see.
The nurse wants a little nook,
then the lab guy winks at me!

Here comes the lunchroom crew,
plus the guard guy from the door.
They want a better view,
and they start to clap for more.

Oh, got a cyst, got a cyst,
on my ovary.
Now my legs are wide apart,
in Emergency.

A guy feels up my breasts,
looking for lumps to treat.
He wants to run some tests,
but he walked in off the street!

They think that we’re all tarts
Doc’s wearing a big grin.
He’s pointing out my parts,
and R-News is looking in!

(Chorus) Oh, got a cyst,
got a cyst, on my ovary.
Now my legs are spread apart,
in Emergency.

If you get a goddam cyst,
and the county pays your bills,
don’t think that you’ll be missed,
run like hell for the hills!

It all seems kind of shady;
they don’t really care for you.
They just want a pretty lady –
and her ‘womb with a view’.

(Chorus) Hey! got a cyst,
got a cyst, on my ovary.
Now my legs are spread wide apart,
in Emergency.


The UK is OK!

Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008

My Blog Counter is about to turn over 20,000 hits since July. I’m very flattered and a little surprised. One of the things that surprises me is the number of hitters from the UK. I have no idea why.So, UK visitors, help me out here. Please drop a comment or e-mail me at Tell me how you got to “Everyone is Entitled”.

My humor (or humour- as I may begin to spell it) and views are not very popular in America. Many people in the US are in a bitchy mood. Our stock market has dropped nearly 40% in the last year, the Black guy won, and winter sucks out loud in most parts of the country.

Do you think people would like me more in the UK?  Is cheeky chic-ee there? If you invite me over, I’ll tell you who killed John Kennedy and what Kelly Rippa is REALLY like in bed. Hell, if France can adopt Jerry friggin’ Lewis, certainly you could favour me, right?

So let me know. OK UK?


Kelly Rippa NUDE (From Memory*)

Monday, December 22nd, 2008

*Yes, I had an affair with Kelly.  You might wish to Copy & Paste into my ‘Search’ box: Having An Affair

Doppler? I Don’t Even Know Her!

Sunday, December 21st, 2008

I knew it.  They scored one in a row. And so the Weather-feathers were predicting big things for today – wild winds, snow dumps, and temperatures which longed to be on the good side of zero. Didn’t happen. The old people in my building slowly crawled out from under their beds with nervous eyes and braved an elevator ride to the lobby to talk about Storm-Light. There wasn’t much to say. The only people who didn’t see it not snow were two blind residents who weren’t driving anywhere anyway.

Although it’s now lightly snowing past my window up here, I just heard another weather goof say today’s snowfall was “not impressive.”

Not impressive? NOT IMPRESSIVE?!

What happened to the wallop of Storm Round II, NITS? C’mon, fellas, you can level with us. Did that big old, nasty front get stolen in Chicago? … get weary in dreary Erie, the Mistake on the Lake? … faint in Buffalo because the Bills actually won a game?

What happened?

Have you ever noticed that most weather people are men? Maybe that’s because women take life more seriously, can’t lie as well with a straight face, or have the chalones to walk back in front of the weather maps AND BLAME THE STORM for not living up to their silly predictions.

If most Americans worked at their jobs with the same degree of success this crew has after drinking at the isobar, the damn country would be in a recession! Oh….uhhh, never mind.


Even Blind Squirrels …

Saturday, December 20th, 2008


OK. I’ve got to give credit where it’s due. Although I’ve always sung along with Dylan’s “You Don’t Need to be a Weatherman to Tell Which Way the Wind Blows,” they got it right yesterday. Wow – did they get it right! Big winter storm here in the Northeast. Co-o-o-ld – blowing, drifting snow – slippery side walks – foot-stomping snow dances when people finally get inside – stalled cars – as my ex-wife used to say, “the whole bit.”

The most annoying thing? Peoples’ trite comments about the storm. “Cold enough for you?”, “Boy, is it cold!”, “Keeping warm?”, “It’s REALLY coming down now!” (what was it doing before on your planet, Skippy – going up?) “They say we’re getting’ another (9) (10) (12) inches!” “Good day for staying in!” “Have you been out yet?” (setting you up for another machine-gun burst of clichés – no matter what you say).

I contributed to the buffoonery by plowing my car into a snow bank, getting stuck, snuffing the engine, and then waiting for AAA. What a great group they are – seriously! Efficient, professional, and fantastic customer service. The AAA guy came in less than an hour – remarkable considering the number of kamikaze drivers littering the sides of the roads.

While I was waiting (a skill at which I’m not really good) some doofus emerged from the blowing storm, looked at my stalled car in the snow bank and said, “Well, they said not to drive tonight. Guess they were right.”

My fantasy? Whacking the nit in the back of his head with a snow shovel as he was walking away.


A Page of History

Friday, December 19th, 2008

” God…What a Bod.”

(High School saying)

A few weeks ago, legendary pinup queen Bettie Page had a heart attack and shortly thereafter died of pneumonia. She was 85. Although her name may not be familiar to you, it would be hard to find anyone over the age of 30 who could not recognize Ms. Page from the 20,000 racy photographs taken of her in the late ‘40’s and ‘50’s.

Along with Hugh Hefner and Marilyn Monroe, Ms. Page is regarded as one of the pioneers in the sexual revolution of the ‘60’s. Without shame – she was most often photographed naked, nearly naked, or in a daring (for the ‘50’s) bikini on a California beach. She was even featured in ‘Bondage & Discipline’ images although she didn’t quite “get” the motif. “Why would anyone want to be tied-up?” she was quoted as asking. Her photos were found in sleazy men’s mags of the times, under the beds of teen boys, and proudly published by ‘Nudism & Nature’ periodicals.

“She captured the imagination of a generation of men and women with her free spirit and unabashed sensuality,” said agent Mark Roesler in a written statement. “She is the embodiment of beauty.”

A private funeral service was held for Ms. Page in Los Angeles. She was buried at Westwood Cemetery just a few feet away from Marilyn Monroe.