Foolish Times May 2020

May 2020

SHELTER IN PLACE HOMESCHOOL: Getting your kid to take a bath doesn’t count as a marine biology field trip.

2 \\ Foolish Times

Farmers Market

Wishing You A Safe Month

See You Soon

We’re Green!

‘18 ‘20

For information

831.655.2607 Alvarado St

What did the magician do when he arrived at Grove Market?

He turned into a parking lot.

Thank you for choosing us as your favorite grocery store & butcher.

For 50 years, we’ve been bringing magic to you with aisles full of quality products & a staff that puts you & your comfort first.

Happy Mother’s Day to all who make the world a better place.

– The Higuera Family & Staff

831-375-9581 | 242 Forest Ave, Pacific Grove Open Monday - Saturday 8–7pm | Sunday 9–6pm www.grovemarketgrocery.com

Special Orders?

Just Ask! We Deliver to Your Door!

May 2020 // 3

What The Bleep Is Foolish Times?

Foolish Times is a free monthly tabloid publishing the best humor we can find (some months we search harder than others). The opinions or ideas expressed by contributors are not necessarily those of Foolish Times, its owner, advertisers, or associates, or their extended families, or their friends or neighbors, or their associated pen pals, up to and including cockatiels. All articles, graphics, photographs, and what-not (especially the what-not) are copyrighted by the so-called “writers” and “artists” who contribute them. Foolish Times uses invented names in all its stories, except in cases where public figures are being satirized. Any other use of real names is accidental and coincidental.

Contributors Tony Albano, Bini, Charles Birimisa, Roger Freed, Ted Gargiulo, Jann Gargiulo, Debbie Harris, Michael Houston, Daria James, Robyn Justo, Rex Keyes Dana Larabee, Peter Mehren, Nancy Pyzel, Jay Russell, Gilly Spangler, Mary Tompsett

Cartoonists Andre Adams, Will Bullas, Max Cannon, Roger Freed, Chris Myers, Chuck Scardina, David Schmidt, Monte Truitt

Advertisers FOR RATE INFORMATION: sales@foolishtimes.net 831.648.1038 For rat information, call your exterminator

foolish

THOUGHT

The Chucklehead Speaks Here we are again, locked down for another month. It certainly plays tricks on your mind. Each day is like a scratched record with the needle caught in the groove. Without choices, life becomes more one dimensional. ‘Can’t do that’ is much different than ‘won’t do that’. Just like being active doesn’t necessarily mean you’re efficient or achieving anything.

A choice was made to not print the April issue and to utilize all other avenues of communication for the issue. We felt it was the right thing and socially responsible. For those of you who receive our e-blast, bookmark our website or have a relationship with our social media partners, thanks for reading. To all the new online readers who found us, thanks for your kind words and support.

As a community service, we listed five pages of restaurants around the county that are open in our Eat it Up section on our website. We had a great response and listened to happy and sad stories from restaurant owners, all of them appreciating our efforts to help. This list was distributed through Chambers, our social media partners, e-blasts and on our website.

I also appeared on KMBY TV and sandwiched in a podcast on Destination 831 between U.S. Foods and Max Muscle. Unfortunately, as the month progressed, our choices to eat out have dwindled. Visit our website to see the list. If you can, support these guys. Eat it Up and our Resale Trail will be back in print for the June issue and can always be found in all the other usual places.

Our work never stopped and the choice to print this issue wasn’t as easy as you think. Better late than pregnant! There was some pressure from readers but mostly there was a commitment to normalize. You’re not my real mother and can’t tell me what to do! We took a hard look at the important segment of our audience that would rather have a printed copy or are not tech savvy.

Surprisingly, you come in all age groups and know how to pick up a phone telling us what you want, when and how! Wait until your father gets home young man; you’re really going to get it!

More importantly, we missed you. We missed making you smile and we’re sorry we took your choice away to repeat a joke to a friend and laugh together. We also understand how important your bathroom reading is these days. To go back in time and conjure up the words of the imperial Head Fool, Mike Miele; don’t forget to support the advertisers.

Stevie P. // publisher@foolishtimes.net

List of Fools Chucklehead // Stevie P. Editor at Large // Javlis Art Fool // Mama Morgan Social Media Fool // Jordo Web Fool // Zachy Sales Fool // Michael

Foolish Times 831.648.1038 www.foolishtimes.net P.O. Box 4046 Monterey, CA 93942

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DES

S Y O TR

RATED

Episode 17

"The Big Shot"

PG

PRETTY GOOD!

Written and Illustrated

by Dana B. Larrabee dalar ents@gmail.com

Previously:

Malcolm D. Monster promises ad man Lester Krasse two million dollars to deliver a marauding T. Rex to promote his new Salinas Monster Mart store. But when despite Army tank fire, the creature escapes clutching teenager Neil Scallopini to wreak havoc on Salinas, it takes Air Force jets to subdue it with tranquilizer dart-tipped missiles, and the T. Rex and Neil are incarcerated. Krasse cobbles together a fake T. Rex commercial hoping to win over Monster Mart, and local media reps begin courting him, one of whom is KTOM radio’s Sue Foxx.

CEO Monster nixes Krasse’s fake dinosaur commercial, insisting on the real deal. Undaunted, Krasse convinces Sheriff Naylor to release the creature on a “work furlough” for Monster Mart’s commercial starring the heavilly sedated GODZELDA. When Neil sees it, he reveals how the T.Rex came out of his iceberg hunting expedition for the Icily Nicely Ice Co., and demands to be released. Later when Captain Horatio Algae corroborates his fantastic story, Neil regains his freedom, and just as Monster Mart’s Grand Opening commences he learns from Felicia Nicely how Lester Krasse defrauded the company. So Neil sets off for Monster Mart in the Kharman Ghia he and his father restored to find Krasse and get Felicia’s money back...

Dr. Quayle clicked open his attache case. The lining was soaked with the drug meant for the Tyrannosaurus. “Oh dear! The syringe must have broken when I ran into that young man.”

“Can you give her the shot or not?” Krasse demanded though clenched teeth. “Oh yes,” answered the doctor. “It will be just a moment while I prepare another....”

Godzelda was still under the effects of Doctor Quayle’s earlier injections, but Krasse knew they were wearing off. The monster was breathing more rapidly. She stirred in her drug-induced slumber frequently, and when she moved, the steel chains binding her rattled unnervingly. Krasse looked at his watch. Mr. Monster’s speech will be over pretty quick, he thought. Sure enough, over the store’s sound system, he heard Malcolm D. Monster launch into his concluding remarks.

“How and why the dinosaurs all vanished is anybody’s guess,” he said. “In the meantime, my sincere thanks to all of you for coming... and especially to Lester Krasse for helping us and-- SMACK!! catching the doctor at the wrist. He to bring you the one and only living dinosaur in the drew back in pain. The syringe shot up into the stage world....” lights, arced past the dinosaur and disappeared into “Through here, Doctor!” Krasse hissed, and led the wings. him on stage directly behind Godzelda. “Hurry and “You okay, Mr. Krasse?” do it!” he whispered hoarsely. “Monster’s almost “Yeah, yeah!” snapped the ad man. “Come on! through yakking! We haven’t much time!”

Let’s get outta here!” He fumbled for the part in the “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Monster backdrop, and they scrambled off stage. went on expansively, “I give you Godzelda, the living “I certainly hope everything will be all right,” murtrade-mark for the largest shopping emporium in the mured Dr. Quayle, nervously rubbing his wrist. “You world... Monster Mart!” The recorded music swelled know, she knocked that hypodermic right out of my to a crescendo, and the curtain rose on the Tyran- hand. If only I hadn’t run in to that funny young man.” nosaurus Rex. The crowd gasped. “Two monsters “Young man?” Krasse repeated. “Who do you for the price of one!” quipped Tommy Kaye while mean?”

Malcolm D. Monster waved good-bye to the wildly “Scallopini, I think he said his name was. Oh, and applauding crowd and departed stage left.

Mr. Krasse, he was looking for you....”

Timidly, Dr. Quayle approached Godzelda’s imKrasse paled. For until that precise moment, he mense hind-quarters. Just above where her tail had failed to make the connection; Scallopini was the began, there were numerous puncture marks from kid Icily Nicely sent after the iceberg. He’d forgotten previous injections. He swabbed the area with cotton all about that business. Or, maybe he’d come about soaked in alcohol and pressed the needle closer. those commercials he was supposed to make. No, The sudden chill must have startled the beast, for wait a minute! He was the one climbing the fire esshe growled threateningly. Her tail twitched and sud- cape the day Godzelda attacked Salinas, the same denly whipped about, knocking over Lester Krasse kid the sheriff asked about. That’s it, he decided. #17-25

COPYRIGHT 2019 BY DANA B. LARRABEE ALL SLIGHTS DESERVED

He’s after the dinosaur. Maybe even wants a piece of the action. Well, no way that’s gonna happen!

“Thanks, Doc,” he said. “You’ve been a big help.

You’ll have to excuse me just now, but stick around, okay? We may need you later.” Then he ducked out to find a security guard, pouncing on the first one he saw. It was Calvin McGraber, who’d brought in Dr. Quayle. “Has some kid been nosing around looking for me?” he demanded.

McGraber nodded. “Yeah. Name’s Scallopini. You want me to find him?”

“I want you to find him and get him out of here!”

“Sure, Mr. Krasse. I know right where he is.”

“Great! Remove him at once! But be cool about it.

We can’t have a fuss with all this mob. Understand?”

McGraber smiled and nodded. “Gotcha, Boss.”

Krasse pulled out another cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Now he could relax. With Godzelda drugged and Scallopini out of the way, his troubles were over. The store would be a huge success, he’d nail down his Monster Mart contract and pick up a bonus in the bargain. Finally, Lester Krasse was on his way to the Big Time!

Next issue: Episode 18

Smashing Prices

All previous episodes available at www.foolishtimes.net

May 2020 // 5

THE GREAT FLICK-OFF // Robyn Justo I suppose that one can make jokes about finding toilet paper on the black market (or more like the brown market) that might not be too funny in the near future when the shit hits the fan.

Living on Maui in prior years, I had seen this before. Hurricane warnings always prompted Hawaiians to run to Costco and fill up their baskets with toilet paper. I’ve always had insecurity when it comes to toilet paper so I totally get it, so I get in my car and go and get it before I have to go. Today it is nowhere to be found.

We were forced into a pause for the cosmos in a matter of days, a society suddenly subdued into compliance.

At first my inbox was inundated with conjecture, conspiracy theories, and apocalyptic speculation and I can say that I had my own ideas. Having not scrambled for flu shots over the years (and not getting the flu for thirteen of those years), I feared the vaccine more than the virus. What if it had a chip in it, the Mark of the Beast?

Tracking device? Just sayin’.

It was as if this virus was equipped with a warhead, an artificial intelligence aimed to skim the older and the infirm or immunocompromised (me), but then it seemed to attack the young. Was it a time released virus passed through chemtrails? Was it floating in the 5G airwaves or inherent in our genetic code to be activated by a Terminator (or Exterminator) drone?

At the same time, I started noticing that I had a sore throat and the sniffles. I wondered if the fear was the real contagion because the more I read about this thing, the worse I felt. What travels faster than the speed of light and spreads quicker

than a virus? Fear. It’s the thought that counts.

I started observing carefully. I noticed unconscious and careless people throwing caution to the wind with a lack of concern for others, their actions invisibly reverberating throughout the air.

Young people thought it would not affect them and had no concern for their older family members or anyone else. Then like Whack-a-Mole, pow. The warhead aimed at the young.

A friend of mine told me that she was ready to whack her husband. Being in close quarters with the ones we love and proximity breeds contempt. I’m alone here but sometimes even I need to sit outside to get away from myself.

Life is indeed imitating art. All of the movies about pandemics are suddenly out-picturing in our world. Forced and enforced isolation is the perfect example of “Divide and conquer.”

A war would not make people stay inside and neither would the news of an alien invasion. But the mere thought of going outside and dying does a pretty good job.

Prisoners are now being released and we are being confined. What is wrong with this picture?

Our days are slowing down and getting reprioritized. I was shocked the other day when I received a call from an unknown number. It turned out that my hairdresser, without asking my permission, gave a single guy my contact information thinking that we should all have a little

We might end up scooting like puppies on the grass to clean ourselves.”

WHEN RAIN, SLEET & SNOW PREVENT YOU FROM PICKING UP

WE CAN SEND IT DIRECTLY TO

fun while this is going on. After a few minutes, I politely excused myself.

A former flame I had not seen in fifteen years texted me. He is still a very dear friend. He wanted a recent picture of me so I sent one. He said I still looked glamorous. I can tell you this.

Glamorous is not one of my priorities. I was in a sweatshirt, albeit a cute one, holding a bottle of wine. But makeup and the Hollywood production does not appeal to me one bit. Neither is having a hot date with a stranger who my hairdresser thinks might give me a thrill. Ew. Scammers are out there heartlessly trying to sell things to desperate people. Where is that Whacka-Mole now?

Perhaps this whole ordeal is the Universe’s way to make a point. We are not in control and we are truly one now. EVERYTHING we do affects the whole. If we choose to travel or party like it’s 2020, we subject ourselves to possible disease and not only that, we subject those close to us and beyond to the same thing.

Mother Earth might have had enough. We might end up scooting like puppies on the grass to clean ourselves. This is the great humbling, the great flick off.

Every morning I slowly open one eye at a time, hoping that the dream has changed from a nightmare to a world where consciousness and compassion reside and conquer.

YOU

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DILLIGS!? // Mary Tompsett

© 2020

Masks & Fungal Meditation Howdy. Thanks for reading this far. Is your house haunted? Do you consult with Faeries, or perhaps St. Fiacre, patron of venereal disease?

Welcome! You already know how spirits suck at social distancing, in addition to being lazy and often obnoxious. The sound of glassware smashing in the wee hours rarely means they’re doing the dishes. So, send their floating asses out on a grocery run! It’s time they learn to use the “self-checkout” while helping you hoard your favorite organic Norwegian cheese coated with turmeric and M&Ms. My demons and I are all

working at home to offer you support here at DILLIGS, aka “Does It Look Like I Give a Sh*t?!”

QUESTION: How can you make jokes during this?

DILLIGS: How can we not?? Next question.

QUESTION: What’s the scoop on masks?

DILLIGS: More data emerges daily to drive guidelines, so tune in to news that features experts. As I write this, they’re saying that a worn mask should be tossed or washed, to “treat it like dirty underwear.” Yes! Like millions of Americans, for years I’ve tossed undies after one wearing. Once a year I rent a trailer and buy the econo-pack of 365.

In a Leap Year all bets are off.

Please do not make masks out of oven mitts! They will not protect you, despite the layers of crusted food. I saw an online photo of a fabric mask displaying cartoon penises. Does that word need an asterisk here? Anyway, the CDC says it ain’t safe unless covered with condoms.

While waiting for delivery of protective

lining, I made a plain mask with fabric on hand.

Prior to its virgin wearing, the pink fitted mask sat by my purse, looking adorably like one small cup from a 1961 “training” bra. Later while wearing it (on my face, don’t be silly) I was seized with an urge to cartwheel down the produce aisle. No injuries, but my form was less than stellar, triggering an avalanche of cauliflower heads.

QUESTION: How can I stay calm?

DILLIGS: Here’s a body awareness meditation: Don’t cut your toenails.

Reflect daily on their slow creep around your feet. Will they be reindeer hooves

by Christmas??

Eventually we’ll return to “normal” plagues like gossip and allyou-can-eat buffets. At that point, Option 1: Saw off the bear claws and refinish your gouged floors.

String together your longest fungal specimens with that unwaxed dental floss you hate but can’t throw out. Proudly wear this sacred meditation necklace on subways, to restaurants and, yes! to job interviews. Option 2: Keep growing the beasties and quit ballet. Think clown shoes. Going barefoot rocks, but you’ll shred the car floor mats. Order replacements now.

The CDC says it ain’t safe unless covered with condoms.”

QUESTION: Any post-COVID shortages?

DILLIGS: Well… (a) Forget haircuts, plumbers, or snagging a booth at the diner until, oh, 2022. (b) Miss Clairol sold out. Forever. (c) Six-month wait for car mats. See above.

A final thought: Let’s laugh often, stay informed, and look for ways to be kind. And may you be blessed with a dinner tonight that is easy, yummy, and ranks in your comfort zone somewhere between a gourmet feast and that hardening glop of Beefaroni.

Fool-O-Scope

May 2020 // 7

// Bini

Aries: (Mar 21–Apr 19) The Ram Everybody gets it that you’re courageous enough to hold the sky! Rumor has it, it’s a bit fatiguing.

Question is were you on a scenic drive or witness to a murder, or was that a mutter? What side of the story are you on West side or East? I guess in this case what matters is what you are willing to utter.

Taurus: (Apr 20–May 20) The Bull Dependable from your first pirouette until your last dying day! Which is thicker your head or that accent you put on situations that don’t directly affect you. Let the heads twirl where they may and carefully surmise what it is that you really want!

Then Go-Go! Gemini: (May 21–Jun 20) The Twins Psst! Gem-Mambo...You arethe Top Cat in town so let’s get crackin’ by dressing up sweet and sharp.

Life is only a dance! Best to see LIFE as de big picture, udder-wise your scurrying knee deep in the Poopla! Hows ‘bout some lousy goat cheese & soda pop for your birthday?!

Cancer: (Jun 21–Jul 22) The Crab Honest Ernest Hemingway, a Cancer just like you was loyal as a door in your face. You gotta love that kind of trueness. You may call upon your war/ love council for this next chapter. Because you’re drifting diagonally towards a steamboat that you can get on or get lost!

Leo: (Jul 23–Aug 22) The Lion “Here Ye! Here Ye! A great crowd of courtiers and servants are intoxicated from your exuberant gooblie goo-ie-ness.

They respond with buffoonery hoping to engage and gain your approval. When you are a pet you are a pet all the way from your first Kingy pooh to your last Queenie day.

Virgo: (Aug 23–Sep 22) The Virgin Your sublime conscientiousness has extended the longest day of the year into

an all day sucker. Your painstaking big decision has blocked the night and left some of us more rumpus bumpus fools searching for the morning star to guide us someday, somewhere, somehow to tomorrow!

Libra: (Sep 23–Oct 22) The Scales Beat the crud out a dem! How charming waving rocks, belts, bricks, blades & guns to claim your side of the street. Perhaps, finding a new way of living, a new way of forgiving all those ruckus out of balance fools may be just the bullet to bite. Call it a work in progress. Now beat it!

Scorpio: (Oct 23 –Nov 21) The Scorpion Who knows...something’s coming...something good, just by holding still you can touch your excitement. Keep your hands visible though, you’re in public view. Romeo & Juliet, Tony & Maria eventually evolved into the party of Bob, Carol, Ted, & Alice, no doubt there is a place for all of us.

Sagittarius: (Nov 22–Dec 21) The Archer Make it not be true that blowing your nose on your sleeve is an optimistic option for you. I know you’ve stuck to your own kind...of manner, your signature sway, your right-of-way and all a fair fight. You’ve made it thus far without losing your shirt, so stop sniveling ‘cause you’re the boss, just an arm’s length away.

Capricorn: (Dec 22– Jan 19) The Goat There’s a Rumble! And it’s not in your stomach.

You’ve got a rocket in your pocket ready to bust like a hot water pipe! Steady now, steadiness is your strength... Unwind, easy does it, play it cool. Accepting your limitations keeps you well protected. Tap into that good deep inside you and Pow Pow out of danger.

Aquarius: (Jan 23–Feb 18) The Water-Carrier You planted yourself on the other team’s turf, so be it! Even just a word can do that. Snap, snap out of it. You are in an advanced state of shock! Use the back door just this once, consider it an intermission to high definition. Switch to whistling cues when you’re on the outside and remember the simple rule: Keep off the grass.

Pisces: (Feb 19–Mar 20) The Fishes M-a-r-i-a, Maria say it softly and it’s almost like praying...or is it Mariah? Either way society will always be plagued with decisions such as these.

Your special business is compassion, but for now minus the “com”. You need to amp it up-kick it, stick it, drop it, f*ck it! How wonderful a sound can be. Listen if Chino can shop @ Chico’s, you can certainly own your hour of power and make your imagination reel!

foolish

THOUGHT

8 \\ Foolish Times

SINCE SOMEONE LE AKED IT ANY WAY Story by Rocky Monadnock.

I was ordered by General Westmorland never to speak of it, because it could have world-changing implications. And the Government couldn’t give me my Purple Heart or any of the other medals even some of the fellows under my command got.

The reason they gave for not giving it to me was because all my fighting took place in what weren’t technically Combat Zones: Cambodia and Laos and all those places.

But I was parachuted behind enemy lines, and made my way to Ho Chi Minh’s office, wonderful fellow, I think the world of him; but a great negotiator, although, of course, in the end, I got what I’d been sent there to do, and that was end the Vietnam War. Ho lived in Boston for a while, you know, so we had some friends in common, and had been to some of the same restaurants and so on.

Anyway, I spent a week there, the first day having my bone spurs treated by Ho’s personal doctor,

with some Oriental herbs and things, and that’s why they haven’t bothered me since.

Of course, the fake news reporters never heard of my mission, and when they did, they refused to write about it because they could see that I was going to be great, first as the greatest builder in the history of New York City, and then in the world.

You know the wall separating Vietnam from China: I designed that. Ho was amazed. He got his people working on it even before I left, and it’s great, the greatest wall in the history of Asia.

Incredible. And beautiful! Perfect!

Of course, mine with Mexico will be greater.

But in Asia, mine’s the greatest. Ho and I signed our signatures on the first stone, with the date.

It’s there. Everyone knows it. But the Democrats, you know, JFK and LBJ and that crowd, they didn’t want me to be famous, so they’ve refused to publicize my great accomplishments, ending the Vietnam War and all that, and with bone spurs, although I’ve endured their pain without letting on, nearly all my life, but the fake news people, they know about it, they stole my medical records and publicized them, but never wrote about how Ho flew me all the way back to New York on his private plane, and I took him down to Florida for the weekend before he flew back. It’s in

his records, but they’re all in Vietnamese. He spoke French and English, too, you know. So do I, and I picked up lots of Vietnamese during my week there, but I’m ordered not to use it because of the implications it could have for China and Russia, whose leaders love me and know that I could outnegotiate either of them or even both of them at once. Great guys, each of them, and big fans of me.

You can tell.

And I did get Ho to release all the prisoners in that hotel –really second rate, not like any of my hotels- so that fellow who didn’t become an admiral like his father and grandfather, but just lay around for most of the war, he could come home.

Most of the people in Congress didn’t serve. Even Mike Pence didn’t serve in Vietnam. But I went there, under cover of darkness, bravely parachuting in and ending the war.

But the fake news won’t tell the truth about it. But that’s why he always resented me, voted against me. He knew I wasn’t a loser: I went into what was then North Vietnam, night-time parachute drop, unarmed except for my excellent, incredible, beautiful intelligence, and won the war, got Ho to see that he couldn’t out-negotiate me. Great guy.

Fine sense of humor. Little. But he couldn’t help that. I’m the tallest President in the history of the world.

But the fake news people, they change the angles of their cameras. I’m taller than Comey.

But you’d never know if from the fake loser failing newspapers and TV networks.

And I shouldn’t be telling you this, because I was ordered by the head of the UN not to reveal how I won the Vietnam War, brought the boys home, and opened up trade with all of Asia.

But since it’s been leaked, I just thought I should clear it all up, tell the real truth, not some other version that people who weren’t even there, who got out because their fathers knew doctors who could get them out, while I was there, behind the lines, risking my life, but you’ll never read about it or hear about it. But the good people of America, they know it, and that’s why they all love me more than they’ve ever loved anyone else, except maybe Jesus, but he didn’t end the Vietnam War, his bone spurs aching every minute.

We don’t even really need an election.

Save money. Everyone knows I’d win again, with the biggest, most beautiful, incredible margin in history. Again.

Perfect.

So I graciously accept right now.

Because I love the American people and the American flag, and Jesus.

And that’s the truth. You can ask anyone. Kellyanne, for example, she’ll tell you it’s the truth?

May 2020 // 9

ENRICH YOUR VOCABULARY V // Debbie Harris In four prior issues of The Foolish Times , I have presented words given to me in the daily worda-day vocabulary enrichments I receive. Words I can’t see being used in present day. This month I continue this discussion and offer:

Rebuff-(rih-BUFF), to reject or criticize sharply.

Ok, I already know and use this word. But in the spirit of Hillbilly words: “My car isn’t shiny enough so I have to rebuff.” Hee, hee.

Throttlebottom- (THROT-l-bot-uhm), a purposeless incompetent in public office. This sounds more like a parental threat for a spanking.

And why would we even need this word. We don’t have any throttlebottoms in our government, right?

Muliebrity-(myoo-lee-EB-ruh-tee), the quality of being a woman: femininity. Seriously? You can’t find a better word to represent the feminine, something pretty that doesn’t have the word “mule” in it? No wonder people don’t use it.

Mycology-(my-KOL-uh-jee), the study of fungi.

Really? Wouldn’t that be fungology? This sounds more like it should be “the study of Mikes.”

Gutta-(GUHT-uh), a drop; one of a series of ornaments, typically in the shape of a truncated cone on buildings. Are you sure it isn’t the drop-off from the yard/sidewalk into the street? You know, the place you’ll end up if you don’t keep your life straight?

Parlous-(PAHR-lus), full of danger or risk. Are you sure this isn’t just the Hillbilly version of “perilous”?

Eudemonic (yoodi-MON-ik), related to or conducive to happiness. Are you sure this isn’t a slang way of saying that someone is possessed?

How would you use this word? “We planned the party to be a eudemonic event.”

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of eudemonic experiences.” No way!

Aposiopesis (apuh-sy-uh-PEE-sis), an abrupt breaking off in the middle of a sentence, as if one is unable or unwilling to proceed. Wow, what a complicated word for something so . . .

Chirocracy (kyROK-ruh-see), government that rules by physical force. Not a government run by chiropractors?

Omphaloskepsis (om-fuh-lo-SKEP-sis), 1. contemplation of one’s navel 2. Complacent selfindulgent introspection. What I have to do to write a Foolish Times piece . . .

Amatorculist (uh-ma-TOR-kyuh-list), a pretend or insignificant lover. Baffling. Why did anyone need this word? Were there a lot of people who pretended to have lovers? Did their imaginary friend grow up to be their imaginary lover? Worse yet is the insignificant lover. Sure, you’re real, but you don’t count. You’re insignificant.

Lagniappe (LAN-yap), a small gift given a customer by a merchant at the time of a purchase.

“You can get all this for just five payments of $19.99. But wait, there’s more. Call within the next 20 minutes and we’ll give you a lagniappe.” Not happening.

Querulous (KWAIR-yuh-lus), habitually complaining; fretful, whining. If I act querulous about a querulous person, does that make me querulous too?

Comestible (kuh-MES-tuh-buhl), an article of food. “I’m heading to Safeway for some comestibles.” That doesn’t sound right.

Sitomania (sy-tuh-MAY-nee-uh), an abnormal craving for food. Sounds more like someone who loves to sit. But I think I might have this condition.

I want food at least 3 times a day, more often usually. Maybe I should seek treatment.

Mendacious (men-DAY-shuhs), telling lies, especially as a habit. I can’t think of anyone who is this way, can you? Some politician’s have made this part of their job description.

Snollygoster (SNOL-ee-gos-tuhr), a shrewd, unprincipled person. This seems to be a useful word, but why does it have to sound like something Willy Wonka would name a hard candy?

Happy Mother’s Day! If you can, bring your mother some comestibles, especially if she has sitomania.

Don’t be querulous about your problems or discuss any throttlebottoms. If you get a lagniappe, give it to her. Even if she’s mendacious and says she has a amatorcultist, don’t call her a snollygoster. Provide her with a eudemonic experience free of any aposiopesis . Celebrate her muliebrity and shield her from parlous situations and chirocracy. Don’t rebuff her if she tells you she’s into mycology. Allow her a day of omphaloskepsis. But be sure to tell her to stay out of the gutta.

10 \\ Foolish Times

MOM

In an attempt to balance work and motherhood, I delegated the grocery shopping to my husband.

But the job proved a tad daunting.

One day while I was at work, he texted me from the supermarket.

“Can’t find Brillo pads,” he wrote.

“All they have are Tampax and Kotex.”

Daughter: “Mom, I need my personal space!”

Mom: “You came out of my personal space.”

The night we took our young sons to an upscale restaurant for the first time, my husband ordered a bottle of wine. The server brought it over, began the ritual uncorking, and poured a small amount for me to taste. My six-year-old piped up, “Mom usually drinks a lot more than that.”

Why is a computer so smart?

Cause it listens to its motherboard.

I can’t tell the difference between a rose and a dandelion. So when it came time to fix up my garden, I had no clue which plants to keep and which ones to remove. Until, that is, my mother gave me this handy tip: “Pull them all up. If it comes back, it’s a weed.”

Mother to son: I’m warning you. If you fall out of that tree and break both your legs, don’t come running to me!

I wanted to introduce his brideto-be to my hypercritical mother.

But in order to get an unbiased opinion, he invited over three other female friends as well and didn’t tell his mom which one I intended to marry.

After the four women left, I asked my mother, “Can you guess which one I want to marry?”

“The one with short hair.”

“Yes! How’d you know?”

“Because that’s the one I didn’t like.”

A Monterey cop was asked, “What would you do if you had to arrest your own mother?”

He said, “Call for backup.”

A couple of hours into a visit with my mother she noticed I hadn’t lit up a cigarette once. “Are you trying to kick the habit?”

“No,” I replied, “I’ve got a cold and I don’t smoke when I’m not feeling well.”

“You know,” she observed, “you’d probably live longer if you were sick more often.”

A couple invited some people to dinner. At the table, the wife turned to their six-year-old daughter and said, “Would you like to say the blessing?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say,” the girl replied.

“Just say what you hear Mommy say,” the wife answered.

The daughter bowed her head and said, “Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?”

1) How do you know when it’s time to tune your bagpipes?

2) What was the best thing before sliced bread?

3) Isn’t it a bit unnerving that doctors call what they do “practice”?

Bob #1 1) I’m tone deaf and a bagpipe sends a shrill that makes me want to jump in front of a bus.

2) The Wheel. It still is the best thing ever.

3) I’m young and healthy. Practice makes perfect. Just ask Michael Jordon.

Robert 1) Love the sound of a bagpipe. As long as there is fresh air in the bag, it sounds good. More pollution in the air makes for bad bagpiping.

2) The light bulb. I want to see what I’m eating.

3) I had the flu and the anti-biotic didn’t work. My doctor changed me for the second visit. My mechanic would not have done that. Can’t they guarantee their work?

Roberta 1) I‘m not sure. I would think the sound depends on the player, not the instrument.

2) Sliced bead was invited around 1930 so things like the telegraph which was invented 100 years earlier was very important.

3) I love my doctor. I don’t want to think she is practicing on me so I try not to think about it. Is practicing the same as pretending?

Bob #2 1) This has to be a trick question. There is no way to tell.

It all sounds bad.

2) Why do we need sliced bread? Where there actual people on an assembly line who made a living sliced bread and put in the bags?

3) That’s a good question. When I get your fast food order wrong, I’m going to use that line that I’m like a doctor and still practicing.

May 2020 // 11

Book Report Even a

// Sali “If from infancy you treat children as gods they are liable in adulthood to act as devils.” Chapter one.

Under the Shelter in Place order, I finished several novels I wanted to read for over a year. P.D. James’s futuristic novel, The Children of Men, published in 1992, begins in 2021. I previously read her Jane Austen inspired Death Comes to Pemberley and a collection of disturbing and slightly gruesome short Christmas stories, so I was prepared for interesting characters and intriguing plots. My copy of The Children of Men, a 1994 paperback version, was one I found secondhand.

I liked the short chapters, and its take on indulged children. I hear parents talk about spending time with their children watching and rewatching animated musicals, having themed birthday parties, and buying season passes to amusement parks. My parents would NEVER watch a children’s movie. To them, it would be a boring waste of time. It was “The Shining” or nothing. I recall unhappy tension, blood, insomnia and nightmares. I can imagine them now saying: “Aren’t you glad we prepared you for the real world?”

I do not know if I want to see the 2006 movie version of this novel, even though I like Clive Owen, having built such a vivid picture of the story in my mind from the words.

By Chapter 8, the reader gets a good sense of how the government uses its power to provide for: “Protection, comfort, pleasure.” It is science fiction, mystery, and thriller.

It is a big nightmare, as well as entertaining and hopeful. I finished it at 2 a.m, wanting to know the conclusion. It reminded me a little of E.M.Forster’s 1909 short story, The Machine Stopped.

Now is the perfect time to read and to share recommendations and books.

I do not recall if my copy came from a library book swap or neighborhood little library. Nonetheless, I am sure the book is safe and disease free, having sat for months on my newly reorganized and alphabetized garage bookcase.

Books and reading open new worlds while staying at home. There are electronic books for loan from the libraries, books for sale from stores selling essentials (grocery, drug, and variety). Mail order stores offer paper and electronic books. Independent booksellers can also provide you with great selections. Give your local store a call to see if they can guide you to great reads and mail the books.

Finally, if you find books, magazines, and music you no longer want to keep at home, please share by dropping them off at your neighborhood little libraries or charities when the pandemic is over. Resellers may be temporarily suspending collection, but they will need donations more than ever for when they reopen.

Nonetheless, I am sure the book is safe and disease free, having sat for months on my newly reorganized and alphabetized garage bookcase.”

Publisher’s note: Locally owned, Downtown Book & Sound is offering free book delivery in Salinas, curbside pick-up, and has an online store for shipping.

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12 \\ Foolish Times RATED

PG

Previously:

PRETTY GOOD!

DE

OY R T S

S

Written and Illustrated by Dana B. Larrabee dalar ents@gmail.com

E p is o d e 1 8

"Smashing

Malcolm D. Monster promises ad man Lester Krasse two million dollars to deliver a marauding T. Rex to promote his new Salinas Monster Mart store. But when despite Army tank fire, the creature escapes clutching teenager Neil Scallopini to wreak havoc on Salinas, it takes Air Force jets to subdue it with tranquilizer dart-tipped missiles, and the T. Rex and Neil are incarcerated. Krasse cobbles together a fake T. Rex commercial hoping to win over Monster Mart, and local media reps begin courting him, one of whom is KTOM radio’s Sue Foxx.

CEO Monster nixes Krasse’s fake dinosaur commercial, insisting on the real deal.

Undaunted, Krasse convinces Sheriff Naylor to release the creature on a “work furlough” for Monster Mart’s commercial starring the heavilly sedated GODZELDA. When Neil sees it, he reveals how the T.Rex came out of his iceberg hunting expedition for the Icily Nicely Ice Co., and demands to be released. Later when Captain Horatio Algae corroborates his fantastic story, Neil regains his freedom, and just as Monster Mart’s Grand Opening commences he learns from Felicia Nicely how Lester Krasse defrauded the company. So Neil sets off for Monster Mart in the Kharman Ghia he and his father restored to find Krasse and get Felicia’s money back. Dr. Quayle finally arrives for Godzelda’s morning injection, and bumps in to Neil on the way in, and when Krasse learns Neil is in the store sends security guards after him...

with Lester Krasse over headsets. “Hit the music,” ordered Rodney. “Music rolling,” a technician’s voice echoed mechanically. The Monster Mart jingle blared over the public address system while two men in sequined white tuxedos trundled out a refrigerator and parked it squarely in front of Godzelda.

Tommy Kaye energetically launched into his spiel. “This ‘Hypothermia’ smart refrigerator-freezer comes with automatic defroster, ice-maker, water

Prices"

Calvin McGraber’s feet were swollen and ached

from standing and patrolling since well before the store opened. His partner was to have relieved him for lunch an hour ago, and now he had this unexpected chore to contend with. He watched Tommy Kaye rejoin Mr. Monster and Godzelda on stage and scanned the crowd of shoppers. Was Scallopini still there? He was. But how to get him out?

A couple with packages in hand crossed the row in front looking for seats. That gave McGraber an idea.

But he would need the help of his partner, Arnold Strong, who was probably at lunch. He found him at an automated snack bar munching a Monster Meal.

Arnold Strong was grateful to McGraber for helping him land the security gig at Monster Mart. “I know, I know,” he said when he saw him, “You want to eat. Look, Cal, I’m really sorry. I’d have relieved you, but I had to wait in that line.”

Calvin McGraber sat down and placed the pink shopping bag he was carrying on the table beside him. “Something’s come up, Arnie. Krasse, has a special job for us.”

“Jeez, can’t it wait?”

“Nope. There’s some punk in here Krasse wants thrown out. And I know right where he’s sitting. The trick is, Krasse doesn’t want the crowd to get wise, so we can’t do it as security people.”

“So, how we gonna do it, then?”

“Easy. Disguised as shoppers.” McGraber indicated the bag full of parcels. “See this? There’s a COPYRIGHT 2019 BY DANA B. LARRABEE ALL SLIGHTS DESERVED

frying pan inside. We knock Scallopini out with it, then make like he’s fainted and take him out for air. But we have to move fast. Look-- I got these disguises for us.” McGraber slid the shopping bag over to Arnie who peered inside. “Hey! These are ladies’ clothes!” He glared at McGraber.

“Yeah, there’s a wig goes with your outfit.”

“Outfit? I’m not wearing this! No way!”

McGraber ignored him. “We’ll look like your average couple come to see the monster and do some shopping. No one will ever guess we’re Security.”

“Oh man,” Arnie whined. “This stinks!”

“Look, we have to nail this guy. So let’s just go change and get it over with.” McGraber got up from the table. “Come on!”

Meanwhile, Jerry Peterson was looking for Krasse when he discovered Mr. Monster flat on his back.

“Malcolm, are you okay? Here, let me help you.” He extended a hand to the fallen executive. Mr. Monster struggled to get up, but his eyes glazed over, and Peterson watched horrified as his employer thudded to the floor. A large hypodermic needle was stuck in his shoulder. “My God!” he shrieked. “He’s out cold!”

If Tommy Kaye heard, he didn’t let on. KTOM’s unflappable announcer just picked up the microphone and addressed the crowd. “Behind me now,” he began, “you see Godzelda as well as merchandise tagged with prices typical of other stores.”

Rodney Speck followed the action on a bank of monitor screens in the KAKA van. From here he directed his technical crew and communicated

and ice dispenser... At any other store, you’d pay an outrageous twenty-five-hundred bucks for this baby. Not at Monster Mart!”

“Mr. Krasse! That’s your cue to animate Godzelda,” Rodney warned. Krasse pulled the lever activating the power-winch chained to the dinosaur’s leg. The engine whined and hoisted it so the taloned foot hung threateningly above the refrigerator. Tommy Kaye waddled away from the appliance. “Just watch Godzelda give the other guys’ price the Monster Mart treatment,” he said with a wink.

The ad man pulled another lever, and the dinosaur’s foot fell smack! Right on the refrigerator! The unit crumpled, burst, and sent shards of plastic, aluminum and steel scattering into the audience.

Tommy Kaye casually brushed the fragments from his lapel and plucked the price tag from the flattened icebox. “Their price,” he recited contemptuously, “twenty-five-hundred. But at Monster Mart today, you get this state-of-the-art Hypothermia refrigeratorfreezer for....”

“Audio, give me a drum roll,” ordered Rodney, and seconds after the tympani resounded through the store, the announcer continued: “You get it today for a mere thirteen-eighty-eight! And that includes delivery and set-up! Unbelievable!”

The audience went wild.

Next issue:

Episode 19 Not Pretty in Pink

All previous episodes available at www.foolishtimes.net

Mira, WOW! // Daria James

We Are All Essential, You Doorknob!

We cannot stress this enough: We are all in this together! We are all the same in the eyes of COVID-19. With that said, I would like to talk about the people drinking hateorade, the negative Nancie’s of the world not seeing the positive in the middle of chaos.

I’m not a fan of T. Swift but she has been paying medical bills for her fans, and some person decided to crap on that by saying not just her fans need help. I’m sure she is aware of it, but that is like getting mad at someone for donating to a hospital in New York when hospitals in California are also in need.

Furthermore, maybe you should expand your musical horizons, just in case you get sick. Players gonna play, play, play.

Same goes for those people mocking celebrities for telling us to stay home when their homes are equipped with swimming pools, personal movie theaters, pool tables and other fun things to do.

Guess what? You can be better off than some and recommend people to stay home. We all make our homes as comfortable as our budget allows us, and if you ain’t got no money, keep your broke a** home!

I think having a pool would be nice, if I had the money to maintain one, but I do not. When I saw Arnold Schwarzenegger smoking a cigar in his

Jacuzzi wearing his cool shades and hat telling us how he worked out and is now relaxing, I did not leave a nasty comment. I did compliment his choice of cigar because we have that in common.

Look at us bonding.

Life is not about the material things some have and some do not, I have worked for my home and I enjoy staying home, even when my roommates are being all buggy.

In addition, living in the barracks has really trained me for this, if you do not know what Military barracks are, it was like college dorms but with less college and more alcohol related incidents.

On top of that, anywhere you went you saw the same mofos, like a Military Groundhog day. This was not even a deployment in the sandbox. Those people really rough it. Perhaps, things

I have worked for my home and I enjoy staying home, even when my roommates are being all buggy.”

have changed. Sometimes I miss my little 10x12 room; all my belongings were a duffel bag with my uniforms and a small suitcase with a few clothes for my rotation. Living the Minimalist life before it was mainstream. Life was simpler, but I am glad I’m grown-upish.

TUNE IN 9-10AM Every Saturday morning

LOCAL GUYS ON

LOCAL RADIO also streaming on www.shagbagshow.com

May 2020 // 13

Point being, I do not mind staying at home, I am saving money by keeping away from Amazon and other online stores. I have been watching videos of Fixie riders going through the city and gone on bike rides whenever possible, hey hey! just like Arnold.

We are just two immigrant peas in a comfortable pod.

The new thing I have been doing during this love lockdown is Yoga, putting those silly spandex pants to good use (See February edition), it’s really more stretching, anyone can do it, not just celebrities in their personal gym like Naomi Watts. Personally, I need to get in better physical shape for training purposes and stretching more after a run or bike ride really helps me with soreness, or even if I just slept wrong. I can live without the talk in the middle of poses, so I watched some yoga videos and took what I needed and discarded the rest.

Nevertheless, I am only human, made of flesh and thus imperfect, while some days I kill it in the exercise and healthy living department. Although some days are Cheetos and beer kind of days. Its called balance and it’s essential we all do our part of staying home, washing our hands, and avoid others like we owe then money. To conclude: Namaste at home and so should you.

Included here are pictures of a few caring folks doing their part to flatten the curve.

14 \\ Foolish Times

A math instructor at MPC announces to the class: “Your math test was really bad. 32% of you got an F.” The blonde in the back shouts in outrage: “That can’t be right. There’s not even that many of us in the class!”

How come your blonde girlfriend never smiles?

Because I told her that I want a serious relationship with her.

Why is the city of Monterey only hiring blondes?

They’re trying to lighten their overhead.

One blonde says to the other: “I did a pregnancy test.”

The other nods appreciatively and asks, “How hard were the questions?”

Why is it wrong to say “a dumb blonde”?

Because you don’t say “a dead corpse” either, do you?

One shark says to the other: “I ate a diver last week.

I’m still sick from all the plastic.”

The other shark waves a fin: “That’s nothing. I ate a blonde last week. She was such an airhead I still can’t dive.”

A blonde says to her friend, “I think my husband is cheating on me. I’m no longer even sure the kids are mine.”

Two blondes were walking along. One looked down and said, “Those are deer tracks.”

The other said, “No, those are bear tracks.” They were still standing there arguing when the train came along and ran over them.

What do you call five blondes in a freezer?

Frosted Flakes

Two blondes are chatting, “Look at this story in the newspaper. NASA wants to send two exploring satellites to the Sun’s orbit. I wonder, isn’t it too hot there?”

The other blonde sighs: “No, they’ll only fly at night.

A restaurant manager at The Brit told the blonde waitress to fill up the salt shakers.

An hour later she’s still at it, so he asks, “Why is this taking so long?”

She whips back, “Do you know how hard it is to get the salt through the little holes?”

One blonde says to the other: “I did a pregnancy test.”

The other nods appreciatively and asks, “How hard were the questions?”

A blonde hits another car. The other driver goes berserk and yells, “Did you even take a driving test you stupid idiot?”

The blonde replies with dignity, “Yes, and probably a lot more times than you did!”

The blonde’s computer password had to be eight characters long and include at least one capital….So she made it “MickeyMinniePlutoHueyLouie DeweyDonaldGoofysacremento.”

May 2020 // 15

Dogs Masterminded The -itis // Jay Russell

TheRaverTip.com

With nothing but zilch to do, many people have focused their mental exertion upon blaming someone, some entity or some place for the novel “-itis” that everyone’s so concerned about. Some people pine for blame and justice, whatever, float your river boat. Some people truly believe Steve Job’s posthumous 6G cell service prevented the terminator, but spawned this new -itis. All those tin berrett theories are clearly false though, because yours truly has discovered the real culprit that purposely unleashed the -itis worldwide... dogs.

It’s ever so obvious that the only party to clearly benefit from the changes in culture and government have been dogs. Doesn’t it seem a little odd that below “getting medication from the doctor” “walking your dog” is listed as a necessity? I mean, isn’t that covered under exercise? The fact that dogs were explicitly included made me cock my head with my floppy cockspaniel-esque wavy hair, and dig deeper into the canine conspiracy.

The global spotlight on China’s wet markets caused a worldwide outcry over eating cats and dogs. Sure enough, dogs have achieved their first objective; Shenzheng has become the first Chinese

city to outlaw the cat and dog meat trade, effective May 1. As the mortal enemies of dogs, the clumping of cats into the legislation was an unfortunate side effect, but dogs aren’t complaining. They are too busy celebrating.

Now look where we are. Have you seen how blatantly happy and smug these dogs are, getting walked 4 or 5 times a day? Their victory laps come at the hands of their legitimate human attendants too and not just from some vicious professional dog walking surrogate. Dogs are not even trying to hide their pleasure at the situation, prancing around in the middle of the street like they own the place. Dogs are metaphorically urinating on our mortgages and careers and literally defecating in our boat shoes. They show no remorse for all the human lives taken, the scoundrels!

So with these achieved, why haven’t dogs shut the virus off, with their shock collars and spy dens or what have you?

These dogs will stop at nothing, they want more.

Serbian dogs remain under strict dog walking curfew from 3:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m.

Surely Serbian dogs dictate from the upper echelons of dog power

Dogs are metaphorically urinating on our mortgages and careers and literally defecating in our boat shoes.”

players and want to prolong the duration of the -itis for more favorable terms.

Most dogs have been blatantly cocky and maintaining this cocksured hubris has actually worked for them as a poker face. Some breeds have revealed a tell though; everywhere Chihuahuas and Pomeranians have been acting suspiciously anxious that their heist will be revealed. This observation led Walnut Creek tweaker Jan Fangle to conduct an independent study of dog dreams, by sleeping amongst 40 dogs. Fangle emphatically and spastically believes that dogs are looking to take over the bar industry.

With bar owners behind the 8-ball right now, some have sold their business for promises of tennis balls and those embarrassing “Chuck It!” ball launchers. Dozens of bars have been purchased by dogs in the bay area, and turned into dog lounges. Dogs love to smoke and gamble so all indoor tobacco restrictions will soon be out the window. What’s the next thing to go? Poker establishments. Dogs won’t stop until every dog has a highball of whiskey, a cohiba, a see through green hat and cards falling out of their paws.

I recommend we hand over all the casinos to them ANAP (as now as possible), or people could be phased out entirely as dog caretakers and replaced by dolphins.

16 \\ Foolish Times

POORLY PARTNERING

Saying we can still be friend after a bad break up is like saying the dog died, but we can still keep it.

They say when you meet the right person, you know immediately.

When you meet the wrong person, it takes about a year and a half to figure it out.

How to impress a woman: Compliment her, caress her, love her, comfort her, protect her, hug her, buy gifts for her, listen to her, respect her, support her, go to the ends of the earth for her.

How to impress a man: Arrive naked, with beer.

I have a vegan boyfriend. Don’t get me wrong, I love him very much. But sometimes I think he just looks at me like a piece of carrot.

All you really need is for someone to see the psycho in you and love you anyway.

My wife recently asked me to get some pills that would make sure I’d be up to some action in the bedroom again. I brought home diet pills.

Apparently that’s not what she meant.

My girlfriend keeps telling me that I’m the cheapest person she has ever met in her life.

I’m not buying it.

I’m looking for a long-term relationship and I just can’t pursue that with you.

Next relationship, I’m going to need a $1,500 security deposit first.

Anyone who says their wedding was the happiest day of their life has obviously never had two candy bars fall down at once from a vending machine.

I spent half an hour trying to take off my girlfriend’s bra. I gave up at the end. I wish I never tried it on in the first place.

I got all misty eyed when I saw my husband looking at our marriage certificate for half an hour.

Then I found out he’s been looking for an expiry date.

My girlfriend asked me if I ever wanted to get married.

Apparently, “When I meet the right girl,” was the wrong answer.

Wife: “It’s our wedding anniversary next week. How do you think we should celebrate?”

Husband: “With a minute of silence.”

May 2020 // 17

MOSQUITOES:

The Mini-Me’s of Vampires

// Roger Freed Mosquitoes are evil little geniuses. They are adept enough to fly up, whine in your ear, then take off laughing as you whip yourself in the head trying to swat them. They know how to hold a victim in suspense as they flit about having the wiles to dodge the hand raised in self-defense.

Their form combines all the elements of dark, loathsome things combined — a hunchback like he of Notre Dame fame, a physique like the super creepy alien in Alien I,II, III and IV and however more there are, spider like legs, a snout like a mastodon and the blood lust of a Dracula.

As it is with most species, the human one especially, it is the female that causes all the trouble (Letter writing feminists: there is no need to form an angry rebuttal to this — it is all based upon pure scientific research, although admittedly, most of the scientists are males and chauvinistic piggies to boot. Plus I do not give out my email to

anyone. Neener, neener, neener!) It is the female who bites. Males, being more hippie-like, are content to sip flower nectar to satisfy their lusts.

In attacking we humans she does so by inserting not one but two tubes under the skin- one to inject saliva and the other to draw out the blood. This is a double insult, not only does the bitch steal a snack, but she is spitting in us as well! Even zombies don’t spit in your empty skull before eating your brains out; they at least have that much decency left!

A lot is said about the numbers and voraciousness of mosquitoes in Alaska. Actually it isn’t that there are more mosquitoes necessarily, it’s just that there is a lesser density of humans for them to munch on there.

Of course, there are a greater number of large, blood saturated mammals, such as bears and moose, for them to slurp on than in the lower 48.

Unfortunately, we humans have killed off so many of our fellow mammals that the mosquitoes must make up for the loss in plasma revenues by dining more on

those responsible for the shortage. In the lower 48 the percentage of the itch-stickers to humans is around 56 per person whereas in Alaska it is around 56,000 per person. There are times when all 56,000 have the munchies at the same time and whole frontier towns have been known to be rabidly decimated.

Now the biting widgets can detect the carbon dioxide which we breathe out from 75 feet away. If we could only learn to breathe in and not breathe out, there would be no problem. Well, no problem except for our asphyxiated bodies lying about all over the place.

According to one study, a full moon can increase mosquito activity by 500 percent. Great, this means that not only are the damn things related to vampires, but to werewolves as well.

For all their trouble, mosquitoes themselves are often beset by adversaries. The bluntleafed bay orchid is so small that the only insect that can pollinate it is the mosquito. When taking a break from tormenting humans, a mosquito will often enter one of these flowers only to have the pollinia spring forward and attach the pollen to its head. The mosquito then exits the flower looking like she is coming from a drunken New Year’s Eve party wearing a yellow traffic cone on her head. Her vanity is further deflated when all the other mosquitoes cruelly call her ‘cone head’ behind her back. And it affects her social standing in the mosquito society.

This frustration is then taken out on we poor schmucks by the incensed insect.

When it comes to mosquitoes, they really bite.

Males, being more hippielike, are content to sip flower nectar to satisfy their lusts.”

18 \\ Foolish Times

CARPE MAÑANA Nervous about tomorrow? Don’t be! Bear in mind that the world did NOT end on December 12, 2012, as so many people believed it would. Or have you already forgotten the last worldwide panic? So much hype and hysteria over nothing! The ancient Mayans had simply calculated things wrong. Of course, you knew all along that the Doomsday scenario was a hill of hooie, didn’t you! The world had never ended before, and there was no reason to think it would this time.

Say what you will now. I’m willing to bet that a small part of you felt—relieved? gratified?—when you awoke the morning of December 13, fully intact and cognizant, and realized that everything was as it was the night before. You reached for your spouse, she reached for you, you looked at each other, and you thought: we’re okay! We’ve got time!

Isn’t that what most people secretly long for?

More time? More chances? After all, what good is success or material happiness if the cosmic clock snatches them away before you’ve had time to fully

savor them? For a while, “Life As We Know It” felt a little less urgent, and a little less precious, once the All Clear had sounded, than it did when you thought it was about to end. Besides, seeing yet another end-time prediction fizzle out merely lent credence to the popular notion that the world was more resilient, and more forgiving, than prognosticators and religious zealots throughout history would have had us believe.

I suspect, however, that not everyone was equally thrilled on 12-13-12. Some looked at their clocks that morning and realized, to their dismay that they still had to be to work. They rummaged through their bills and bank statements and saw they were still in debt. They looked at the calendar and thought, “Bummer!

Only 12 days till Christmas, and I haven’t bought any gifts!” Perhaps the only thing more worrisome than thinking the world will end is figuring out what to do when it doesn’t.

Remember Y2K? People were sincerely spooked when they believed a global technological glitch

would bring society to its knees.

Naturally, a level-headed person like you never lost a moment’s sleep fretting about numbers! Or did you? Admit it, the scenario seemed chillingly plausible at the time—far more compelling than what some ancient, defunct civilization might have predicted thousands of years earlier. The massive frenzy that transpired does seem ludicrous in retrospect. Skeptics love to joke about how everybody else overreacted to the crisis while they maintained their cool. Yet, how many “sensible” folks, I wonder, were holding their breaths on New Year’s Eve, 1999, when those dreaded digits finally turned and ushered us into 2000? How many naysayers secretly thanked God (whom they purportedly didn’t believe in) when the anticipated cataclysm (which they didn’t take seriously) failed to materialize?

What’s your story? Maybe what you experienced turned out to be less of a reprieve than a letdown, when computers and information systems around the world didn’t crash, and power grids didn’t shut down, when planes didn’t fall out of the sky, trains didn’t collide, traffic didn’t dissolve into chaos, financial institutions didn’t collapse—and, consequently, your boss still expected you to show up on Monday!

Isn’t it amazing how quickly “Seize the Day” loses its appeal once a person figures he has forever in which to seize it!

Seeing yet another end-time prediction fizzle out merely lent credence to the popular notion that the world was more resilient, and more forgiving…”

May 2020 // 19

Pathways for Resilient Advocates & Make a Difference/Haz Una Diferencia // Michael Houston Two Modern Day Heroes (Women of Course): Pam Weston and Rita Acosta

The homeless community is a source of worry for most of us. For about a thousand members of our Monterey county community, it’s a way of life like Mack and the boys in Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. In a true-life current sequel to the novel, we have Pamela Weston and Rita Acosta who share the old-time Monterey approach to the homeless issue and the rest of life’s challenges.

For them, practical selfgovernance and a commitment to clarity based on their life experience is the pathway to a meaningful life.

Tents, Public Hygiene, and Self-Determination Royale

Rita Acosta has been organizing self-regulating homeless communities for years. In Make a Difference/ Haz una diferencia she tells her story of Tents By the Garden and the PHLUSH (“Plumbing Helps Let Us Stay Human”) program. In clean in Chinatown, Soledad Street, Salinas during the winter of 201213 led her friends in the homeless initiative to get herself and other homeless folks a clean secure place to sleep and stay healthy.

Home Out of Range

After raising her kids and ending her marriage Rita was homeless. Rita was born and raised in Salinas.

She knew Salinas Chinatown was there for the displaced. Like many homeless people, especially single women, she worried about life in a tent with her two dogs in a place where outright thuggery and city sanitation sweeps can cost one their life, health, personal property, meds, and ID. Rita and her friends created a democratically run campsite and moved on to the next basic necessity, a supervised outhouse. The project lasted about four months before the city put them all back on the sidewalks.

Rita tells her story in Make a Difference/ Haz una diferencia, which is available on

Amazon. After shelter in place, you can ask for Make a Difference/Haz una diferencia at local booksellers, Capitol Books in Monterey and at Downtown Book and Sound in Salinas.

Local journalists and photographers Lee Dunne, Dread McCall, Nic Coury, and Arvin Temkar and organizers Bill Black and Seth Pollack and Sara Rubin of Monterey County Weekly gave Rita single use of their pictures to tell this short-lived homeless selfhelp victory. Welcome to paradise, kids.

Like Ann Frank, Rita and Pam believe people are basically good. They have no qualms working with the same bureaucrats and elected officials to put the homeless back on the streets when it means that they can make things better for the oppressed and marginalized.

Pathways for Resilient Advocates, coming out this summer!

Pam Weston has an amazing book in the making, Pathways for Resilient Advocates.

Pathways for Resilient Advocates distills her life experiences, tragic family deaths; work in the prisoners’ rights movement; and organizing women’s groups into an artbook and guide for personal and community change for the better.

Pam’s Pathways for Resilient Advocates is a work of edgy engaging magical and down to earth heartfelt art. How Monterey can you get in the land of Monterey Pop, Esalen, seekers, lovers, newlywed, etc? Come find out!

Pathways for Resilient Advocates consists of over eighty

collages Pam put together while struggling to overcome her son’s death. It also offers her/our/and everybody’s family legacy. She’s created it for all her children, loved ones, and fellow earthlings as a kaleidoscope roadshow of the ideas and times we have come through. She’s out for happy outcomes for all of us.

Ms. Pamela collages connect us to her and our extended ancestry line which includes earth goddesses, Celtic, African, and Native American warrior queens, evangelical ministers, seekers, secular and sectarian nuns, pioneer women, Black Panther activists, union organizers, housewives, churchy ladies, drop-dead beauties, and irrepressible rabble-rousers. With that mystical and down to earth blend of personas, myths, sorrows, and triumphs she goes on to entwine strategies for organizing for a better world.

Come on share and share pathways that are culturally relevant and community-based welllived successful best practices. The artwork makes for a joyful process with deep benefits for all involved. Come for the art, stay for the empathy.

Buy Local!

Save the world. Save yourself, and buy these two uniquely Monterey County books,

Publisher’s note: Michael Houston is a street busker and coordinates the Salinas Living Prose and Poetry Project, which helps homeless and marginalized authors publish books with help from the Action Council of Monterey County and the Arts Council for Monterey County.

20 \\ Foolish Times

The Fantasy Gang Of All Times “The Warriors” 40 Years Later // Charles Birimisa Not long ago, a longtime friend e-mailed me information about the South City Comic Con. Scheduled to appear were five cast members from the 1979 motion picture “The Warriors.” The event at theSan Mateo County Fairgrounds was charging a ten dollar admission. Being that “The Warriors” is one of my favorite movies I decided I was going to go, and maybe chat with some of the actors.

I recall at the time of its release there was a controversy about the film fueled by several violent incidents at various theatre’s around the nation.

I was fourteen years old at the time and being in a gang (even in the gang hub of Watsonville) was the furthest thing from my mind. Yet, I did have a brush with a gang member or gang wannabe as I played football with friends on the front grass of E.A. Hall Middle School. A blade was displayed, nerves were frayed, no blood was spilled.

Watching the film today, it is evident, “The

Warriors,” as gangs go, were an admirable gang, if there is such a thing. They displayed loyalty, honor, and formidable hand-to-hand skills. No Warrior used a gun, and the worst crime they committed was tagging their identity on a gravestone; and in defending themselves, they could be brutally violent.

In the film, at a meeting of all New York’s gangs, The Warriors are accused of assassinating Cyrus, a charismatic gang-guru. Thepremise is they have to make it back to their home - Coney Island - and to get there they have to elude and fight the other gangs that have been ordered to get them - “alive or wasted.” All these years later I finally had a question. If they do make it home will they be safe? And the conclusion was a resounding no. In fact, during the whole trek back the Warriors were never in so much danger than when they got home. The Rogues gang that murdered Cyrus with a firearm - the only gun killing in the movie - was set to do the same to the Warriors. It’s an unforgettable finish which I won’t spoil.

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In 40 years I have watched “The Warriors” several times, and it gets better with each watching. Compared to today’s over the top, drenched in violence, cinematic slop, “The Warriors stands as a film with a special majesty; a true fantasy, yet feeling authentic an genuine at the same time. And added the cinematography and music score is outstanding.

In the days before the Comic Con new details about the event came to light.

There would a be a one hour question and answer session and an opportunity to have a group photo with the cast members for a one hundred and forty dollar fee; or from each individual cast member forty bucks for an autograph and selfie. There might have been a time – thirty years ago - where I might have wanted an autograph or a photo with one or all of these fine Warriors actors. Maybe if there was a showing of the film with the question and answer that might have been something? I decided not to attend the event. But that night I did dig up my VHS copy, reconnected the VCR, and once again enjoyed “The Warriors” like it was in the beginning.

If they do make it home will they be safe? And the conclusion was a resounding no.”

May 2020 // 21

JUNIOR JOKES playing tag. CuriOdyssey has a live streaming view of the otter exhibit on curiodyssey.org.

Riverotterecology.org, a website of The River Otter Ecology Project, has an otter spotters page where the public can participate in the science of river otters.

The website, otter.org, shows how The International Otter

Q: Why are fish so smart?

A: Because they live in schools.

Q: What do you call a flower that runs on electricity?

A: A power plant.

Q: Why are seagulls called seagulls?

A: Because if they flew over the bay, they’d be bagels.

Q: What kind of award did the dentist receive?

A: A little plaque.

World Otter Day // May 27 I have been fascinated by river otters since I first learned about them when I lived in Shasta County two decades ago. I first saw them at the Coyote Point Museum for Environmental Education in San Mateo. The museum changed its name to CuriOdyssey in 2011. An energetic pair lived there and delighted the children who visited. I remember a little boy saying, “That’s his girlfriend.”

River otters, (Lontra canadesis, previously Lutra canadensis­—until October 23, 2015 according to USDA Forest Service post), live in rivers, lakes, and streams where the environment is clean enough to support food sources and where there is a safe habitat. I learned from a late Seventies Fish and Game report by Gordon I. Gould, Jr., that prior to 1961, the river otter was classified as a furbearer with no bag limit. Fish and crayfish are dietary mainstays.

My 1987 edition of Pacific Coast Mammal by Don Russo and Pam Olhausen,a an informative little book I bought from the Marina Friends of the Library bookstore, showed the river otters’ range from Central California, north. The book describes their day spent frolicking, chasing their tail, or

Q: When do doctors get angry?

A: When they run out of patients.

Q: What musical instrument is found in the bathroom?

A: A tuba toothpaste.

Q: What do you call a fake noodle?

A: An impasta.

Survival Fund, brings enthusiasts worldwide to help and celebrate river otters. My hope is that Monterey County will have them living in our rivers, streams and lakes, so that long distance travel is not needed to see them in person.

[CuriOdyssey is a part of the Discover and Go program that provides discounts and free tickets for local attractions through libraries. To learn more, see the website: discoverandgo.org. Another program for discounts is Museums4All.org, for EBT card holders]

Q: What do you call cheese that’s not yours?

A: Nacho cheese.

Q: What kind of tree fits in your hand?

A: A palm tree.

Q: Why is a bad joke like a bad pencil?

A: It has no point.

22 \\ Foolish Times

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Checking her book, the young hostess said, “I’m sorry; all we have is 6:45. Would you like that?”

“That’s fine,” replied my wife.

“Okay,” the woman confirmed. Then she added, “Just be advised you may have to wait 15 minutes for your table.”

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May 2020 // 23

La Mamma Rocca “La Mamma Rocca dice, si guarda, ma non si tocca!”

–Italian proverb “We can look but we cannot touch!”

“No touch, no smile, no breath, no come over to eat, you stay no close! You go!” Says La Mamma Rocca.

Right on Mamma Rocca! You’re right! It’s a pandemic, or is it a polemic? I am going to take a stab at the latter since it’s the only tool in my possession to attempt to ease the other.

We’re scared. I get it. We’re scared to see each other in each other. Isn’t this the root of racism?

We’re scared our fear will be reflected back; the white of our eyes glistening in terror. Isn’t this why the NRA exists?

But, when we interact, human to human, an

alchemical spume invisibly encircles us and our auric fields braid like the Aurora Borealis. Wow! It’s beautiful and we didn’t even have to lift a finger.

“But! Did you spray your finger?”

“Yes!” As magnificent as this transference is there is always risk isn’t there? Well, who’s responsible?

We could just blame it on Mother Earth. We’ve been drilling her like a whore for oil for centuries. Could it be the Gorgon’s power misbehaving and turning us all into stone? Or are we all already stoned?

Maybe this time it’s the itsy bitsy bat that crawled off the cave’s back and cocked it’s hat in combat to fu*k with our cellular habitat!

The bat symbolizes rebirth. A symbolic death of the old ways of life and personal identity! It just so happens.

Could this mean…We have to change?

“Did you spray your finger?”

“Yes, and included four more digits!”

As my detoxified shopping cart limps through the grocery store. Our main avenue of encounter at this time, the store of nevermore toilet paper, I see a human stopped at the mouth of the isle eyeing me.

She is stunned that I’m in the same isle as she. As if she were a doctor and has found her subordinate stealing opiates in the drug closet.

Skillfully, she adjusts her face mask like a greaser uses a comb. I’m rummaging through…air, mostly, what’s left of the paper products. There are only pink party

I have sprayed! I have wiped! I have sprung from the dung!”

napkins I can use as wipes which will probably clog the pipes. Well, there is always compost. I hear a yodel.

“Yoo-hoo! Don’t you dare take more than two!”

Says the masked human who’s gripping her cart like Bette Davis held on to Joan Crawford’s wheel chair pending on the staircase of death.

I wave one package of pink napkins at her like a flag of surrender. She points to her hand that is wearing a plastic covering known as a glove. I wonder if she has the virus or something different all together? I grab two packets of pink party napkins. I pause and grab a third one and wave it at her like a victorious retreat. She struggles fiercely to yell at me through her mask, arms flailing. But no one can hear her muffled hubris. I skip on and exit the isle.

Once I take away the face masks and the surgical gloves from these encounters with humanity a familiar empty feeling floods me. The connection is that this social aloofness, this arrogance, this disinterest, this egoistic growth pattern has been with us for quite some time now The culture of unavailability. Our psyches have been barricaded for decades. It’s time, that nature took back the reins. It will without permission.

What lies underneath this alchemical economical biology? Besides the fact that technology has fueled and fooled us to believe that a high speed world of abstraction will grant us an immortal existence. Well, all I know is that we still have to wipe our own butts! Human to the end!

The crowning glory of this corruptive influence could be a portal to drop the American Dream turd and welcome our global inevitability. To truly revamp our purées of purpose and bond again. We don’t even have to lift a finger.

“Did you spray your finger?”

This crown’s thorns has bred a miracle for a second chance; this virus is not racist, not prejudice, male chauvinist or partisan. It LOVES all of us equally! It even makes house calls to luxurious bomb shelters.

Temporarily, we will hide behind the crown, a perfect barrier between us. We don’t have to pretend we are asleep anymore drowsing in our Reality shows. We can freely ignore each other like we don’t exist guilt free. But, this too shall pass.

Corona Mona (COVID-19) will take flight.

Will we hold on to our obtuse selfish behavior towards our Earth, towards our differences, towards each other? Mamma Rocca says WAKE UP! But, don’t touch or I’ll crown you!

Roost!

Laura ‘la’ Sottile lalaugh6@gmail.com www.lalaugh.live

24 \\ Foolish Times

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