Archive for the ‘Paolo’s Best’ Category

I Predicted Miss Cleo Would Die One Day

Friday, January 3rd, 2020

Youree Dell Harris knew she could never be a Valley Girl, so she set out to buy the whole Valley. Born in Los Angeles in 1962, Youree picked up a cheap wig, some Caribbean Island clothes, a JaFakin’ accent and transformed herself into “Miss Cleo” – spokesperson for the “Psychic Network.” Her future looked great!  Thousands of her “physics” kept nitwits on the phone – predicting their futures – at an astounding $4.95 per minute.

Although she promised the first 3-minutes were free – they weren’t. I forget exactly how she linked “psychic” and reading Tarot cards but she did and stole over a $1 BILLION dollars!

In 2002, the Federal Trade Commission (the FTC) pulled the plug on her shenanigans,  demanded she cancel over $500-million dollars worth of customers’ bills and pay a $5-million dollar fine.

Today, Miss Cleo lives in Lake Worth, Florida with her millions and will still read your fortune for between $75 – $250 depending on her mood.  She has a lot of takers whom she continually takes.

The 6-foot plus proud lesbian has no apologies for her past but today practices voodoo with the same hearty laugh and outstretched palm. She gives frequently to local, Florida charities.  Her donations?  Free psychic readings!  I predict these will never be tax deductible.

If you’ve never seen a Miss Cleo commercial, baby (a pet name for callers), don’t miss this:

MISS CLEO DIES:  https://www.google.com/

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My Mom, Bettie Page

Monday, December 30th, 2019
"God what a bod!" High School saying

“God…What a Bod.” (High School saying)

In 2008, 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.  Betty Page (born: Bettina Delpaggio) was my Mother. The “nudism gene” must be genetically inherited. 

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 1950’s) bikini on a California beach.

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“Do your homework! NOW!”

Ms. Page 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.

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“Of course he should release his tax returns.”

“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.  RIP, Mama.  Pages of Page: www.google.com

Bettie Page: https://www.google.com/

Bettie coined the phrase, “Keep Calm and Buy Shoes.”

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Tie Died

Thursday, December 26th, 2019
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Manhattan, 1972. Retail shopping CRUSH-week between Christmas and New Years and every New Yorker thought it was 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.

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I worked in Barneys, the World’s Largest Men’s 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 S-n-a-p! first. I was the odds-on favorite.  I was already demoted from sweaters to ties for being rude to customers.)

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.

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 through the exit. The A-train stop was only half a block away. I never even bothered to go back for my paycheck.

Barneys, NY:  http://www.barneys.com/

Jingle Bells Cyst

Monday, December 23rd, 2019
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My friend Christine, a beautiful dancer, developed an ovarian cyst one Christmas and had to go to the Emergency room.  She said she was  never treated as disrespectfully at any medical facility in her life. Chris believes men “examined”  her who might not even have been doctors! I put new lyrics to a traditional song to commemorate this memorable occasion.

(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 Y-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 wide apart in Emergency.”

Impersonating a Doctor:  https://www.google

Roy – God Wants To Talk To You

Wednesday, December 11th, 2019

A few years ago, a local power company repairman touched the wrong wire and got zapped by a zillion volts of electricity. According to the news report, Emergency Medical Techs found him lying on the ground, “talking and alert.”

Alert? ALERT!? If it were me I’d be “alert” for the rest of my freakin’ life! No more of that, “Frank’s an intelligent boy but doesn’t pay attention” report card crap! I’d REALLY start paying attention after that – and maybe consider a different line of work.

An alternative  vocation didn’t seem like a good choice to Roy C. Sullivan, a US forest ranger in Shenandoah National Park in Virginia. Mr. Sullivan got struck by lightning – SEVEN TIMES. Say what? That’s right, Binky, the man got hit by lightning – seven times!

The first time was in 1942 when Roy was in a fire lookout tower. LOOK OUT! (Damn!) The 2nd didn’t hit him until 1969 when he was in his truck. The third? The very next year in his front yard. Number four struck him in the ranger tower again, 1972.

Bolt #5 with Roy’s name on it got him in his car in 1973 with #6 only a year later when he was at a campground. In 1977, Roy decided to chuck it all and went fishing. You guessed it. The 7th and final Roy C. Sullivan Lightning Bolt hit him with his pole in the water. He survived.

Sometime between bolts three and five, Roy Sullivan got religion. I guess the man decided God was trying to tell him something. But first, He  had to get his attention.

Roy “Lightning” Sullivan:  https://www.google.com/

Thanksgiving Is A Turkey

Thursday, November 28th, 2019

“We’ll trade you that drumstick for 1000-chips at your new casino.”

Ah, Thanksgiving – the Great American Pig-Out. A holiday devoted to unabashed gluttony. Which is kind of funny in America.

Why a nation founded by  Puritans, Pilgrims, and Prigs would choose one of the SEVEN DEADLY SINS as a way to celebrate is a little strange. Also, turkeys are a meat entree no one would choose if the menu included steaks, chops, and shrimp. Tradition always demands unthinking, repetitive rituals which prohibit creativity and originality.

So I came up with an idea to make us appear less mindlessly traditional and hypocritical.

For a national holiday, maybe we could change it up a bit featuring a different deadly sin every year. I went through the list of the others – greed, sloth, wrath, lust, envy, and pride – and I have a personal favorite for next year’s star sin: lust.

Lust has kind of a bad reputation in America but that’s why it needs a national holiday.  How would we celebrate it?  The possibilities are endless but I haven’t worked out all the details yet.

Next year on Thanksgiving would you rather be hungry – or horny?  Wait! This is America – let’s celebrate both!

10-non-traditional ways to celebrate Thanksgiving:  http://blog.mannequinmadness.com/

Playing Footsie With Reality

Monday, November 25th, 2019

February 23, 2010 (This my FAVORITE post – out of thousands!)

There just was not a lot of good news on this day 9-years ago.  Maybe that’s why we got such a kick about a human foot found on a conveyor belt at a recycling plant in Seneca, a small town in upstate New York.

Naturally the workers at Casella Waste Management were quite concerned when they saw the foot coming down the line. Are human body parts recyclable?  Was the rest of the body on its way? Was somebody just putting his best foot forward and keeping the rest?

As rumors ran rampant, law enforcement and county officials called the media for a press conference. They looked grim. Yes, initial medical reports said the foot was human and only partially decomposed. Yes, we’re sending it to the Monroe County Medical Examiner’s Office for DNA confirmation. No, it has not been determined if it’s a male or female foot. No, we don’t know if it’s from a child or an adult.

Please people, they said, stop calling the police with reports of missing persons until we kick this thing around a bit and see what’s up.  Casella Waste gets refuse from 15 New York counties and parts of Canada – we’ve got to check all of them.  Yes, we’re on our toes down here – we know what we’re doing.

By Tuesday the crisis was peaking.  The plant was closed and inspectors were all over the place like smell on garbage. Then, a shocking development!  The foot was tracked to Canada – specifically to a load from a recycling centre on New Toronto Street, near Lake Shore Boulevard.  The Toronto Homicide Department stepped in.

“It could only be one of two things: medical waste or foul play,” said Toronto police Staff Sgt. David Vickers.  Uh oh.

The kicker came on Thursday.

“After days of DNA testing, we’ve determined that what we have is not a human foot – but probably the foot of a black bear,” said Seneca Sheriff Philip Povero. Oops – a bear foot – not a bare foot!  How embearassing! At least now Toronto Police could refocus their investigation to search for a large, black bear hopping around their city.

And what can we learn from this drama?  Something computer geeks taught us long ago  – “Garbage In – Garbage Out”.

Big Foot caught on tape:

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Strange things found in recycling plants: https://www.google.com/

trumpies

Saturday, November 9th, 2019

Thursday, November 7th, 2019

“Gore-B-Gone”

Monday, September 9th, 2019

Who Will Clean Up Your Last Mess?

There are twice the number of suicides than murders in the US.  And often people just don’t go quietly into that good night.  Guns – by far  – issue the largest number of one-way, nonstop tickets to never-ever land. And they make a mess.

The problem is:  who’s going to sparkle and shine up a person’s last grand gesture of painting the walls, spraying the furniture, and splattering the rug?  After the body is taken away and the authorities lock up the place, who’s going to start cleaning this interior design of gore-decor topped with yellow, crime-scene tape?  Obviously, the person responsible is not going to be of much help.

Fortunately there are people who make their living doing this sort of thing and can eat their lunch while on the job.  Many employees in the field are undocumented workers who won’t talk about their jobs because they don’t speak English. They’re called “Gore-Whores.”

The link below will take you to the most famous company in the field and which may have a franchise open near you.