July 2013
A MAGAZINE
WHAT DO CABBIES THINK ABOUT? FIND OUT FROM MIKE MANSELLE, PAGE 22
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July 2013
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July 2013
Salty Senior Silliness 103 YEARS OLD A reporter was interviewing a 103 year-old woman: "And what do you think is the best thing about being 103?" the reporter asked. She simply replied, "No peer pressure." ELDERLY COUPLE An elderly couple go to church one Sunday. Halfway through the service, the wife leans over and whispers in her husbands ear, "I've just let out a silent fart. What do you think I should do?" The husband replies, "Put a new battery in your hearing aid." BOWEL MOVEMENTS Three old men are talking about their aches, pains and bodily functions. One seventy year old man says, "I have this problem. I wake up every morning at seven and it takes me twenty minutes to pee." An eighty year old man says, "My case is worse. I get up at eight and I sit there and grunt and groan for half an hour before I finally have a bowel movement." The ninety year old man says, "At seven I pee like a horse, at eight I crap like a cow." "So what's your problem?" asked the others. "I don't wake up until nine." ELDERLY WOMEN DRIVERS Two elderly women Marie and Edith were out driving in a large car-both could barely see over the dashboard. As they were cruising along they came to an intersection. The stoplight was red but they just went on through. The Edith in the
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passenger seat thought to herself "I must be losing it, I could have sworn we just went through a red light." After a few more minutes they came to another intersection and the light was red again and again they went right though. This time Edith was almost sure that the light had been red but was really concerned that she was losing it. She was getting nervous and decided to pay very close attention to the road and the next intersection to see what was going on. At the next intersection, sure enough, the light was definitely red and they went right through and she turned to the Marie and said, "Marie! Did you know we just ran through three red lights in a row! You could have killed us!" Marie turned to her and said, "Oh, am I driving?" GOOD NEWS BAD NEWS An old man visits his doctor and after thorough examination the doctor tells him: "I have good news and bad news, what would you like to hear first?" Patient: "Well, let me have the bad news first." Doctor: "You have cancer, I estimate that you have about two years left." Patient: "Oh no! That's just awful! In two years my life will be over! What kind of good news could you probably tell me, after this?" Doctor: "You also have Alzheimer's. In about three months you are going to forget everything I told you."
Secrets of Small Airlines BY REX KEYES Airlines can be divided into three basic classification: International, National and Regional. The Regional carriers are usually the ones with the shortest routes. They take you from major cities like Seattle to a lot smaller ones like Pasco, Walla Walla and Pullman. Early in my career, one of the airplanes that I flew carried 18 passengers. Responses from many passengers were usually the same, especially from people from the East Coast who were used to flying on big jets on short runs into high-density cities. They flew out to Seattle or Portland and expected a big jet to take them to a rural town with a low population base. The first surprise was that there was no jet way to walk from the terminal to the plane. They had to proceed down a stairwell and onto the ramp to board. Then as they walked out on the ramp to where the airplane was parked they could be seen double-checking their ticket in disbelief. “Oh, my gosh, what a small plane!” they said as they boarded. My reply, “Yes sir, but every seat is not only a window seat but also an aisle seat, and the seats are very comfortable as they are made of fine Corinthian leather”. Since there were no flight attendants on board, pilots on these small planes had to clean up the plane between flights. So one of the most important announcements was the following, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you feel ill there is a paper bag in the seat pocket in front of you.” Cleaning up after someone got airsick and emptied their lunch all over the place was bad news. We always made sure that there were at least two paper bags in each seat pocket in case one got filled up. And what a pleasant surprise it was to find an airsick bag filled with a little present from a passenger. Someone had been listening to our announcement.
There use to be a switch on the airplane that controlled a sign that would illicit behavior in certain passengers like Pavlov’s dog. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking, we have reached our cruising altitude of 14,000 feet, we are now turning off the ‘no smoking’ sign.” Within seconds of the sign going off, out came the Chesterfields, Camels and Marlboros with the Zippo lighters. Smokers had to be given a 10 for self-control. They were prohibited to smoke a cigarette from the time they entered the terminal until the no smoking sign was turned off. It must have been truly agonizing. Turning off the sign was like a command to light up. Since then, smoking has not been permitted on any flights. But nowadays one only has to look outside the terminal. After leaving baggage claim, smokers can be seen on the sidewalk, lighting up and with an expression coming over their face that they have truly reached nirvana. Flying passengers in Alaska was a unique experience. Alcohol consumption per capita for an Alaska resident had to be among the highest in the nation, especially during those long and cold winter nights. A lot of passengers that generously partook of the spirits in the frozen north would have been denied boarding under the same circumstances in the lower 48. But if a passenger could stand and walk out to our plane they were on the flight. Of course, there was a flying secret that would not only make their flight comfortable but would also ensure them not bothering other passengers. The planes were unpressurized, so a climb to 10,000 feet where the air is thin sent them to the field of dreams. The alcohol combined with the high altitude insured that they slept like a baby throughout the flight all the way to the destination. Now having revealed some of the secrets of small carriers, I hope I do not get into the same trouble as that guy in Wikileaks.
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July 2013
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ITALIAN RESTAURANTS LA DOLCE VITA
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PUBS DUFFY’S TAVERN
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CROWN AND ANCHOR
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550 Wave St. (lower level), Monterey
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6
July 2013
QUOTE
Touché
BY TOM BURNS He had done it again. Standing on the back porch, I noticed his beginning efforts to denude the row of azaleas along the back fence. Rex will do this periodically to express immense displeasure with me. His doghouse, the new Christmas decorations, a new (read: cheap) brand of dog food, on walks making him wear his little sweater that says, “I’m a Hotdog” on it, and from waking him up in the middle of the night to complain to him that he’s hogging the bed. All had set him off and resulted in the azaleas being chewed and mauled by little black Dachshund needle-sharp teeth. “REX!!” I yelled. A small nose poked out of the doggie door, and then backed out of sight. He was in the kitchen knowing his latest arboreal adventure had been discovered. I stormed into the house. “What the heck are you doing that for?” I jabbed the air with my finger pointing toward the back fence. He gave me a remorseful look and tried to slink into the living room, unnoticed. “Uh-uh, bucko.” I picked him up and sat him on the kitchen table. He tried to bolt, but I scooted him back across the tabletop. I sat down and looked him straight in the eyes. “Rex. Rexie. Rex. You’ve got to stop your assaults on the azaleas. Do you hear me?” He looked away, as if he hadn’t heard me. “I don’t know why you continue to cause trouble. You seem to think that if everything doesn’t go the way you want, you destroy the azaleas. This has to stop. I’m re-enforcing
the household boundaries: No more abuse to the poor plants. Got it? GOT IT?” My patience frayed. Rex was watching a hummingbird outside the window, totally ignoring me.
“No more abuse to the poor plants. Got it? GOT IT?” “Okay. No more Mr. Nice Guy. If one more, ONE MORE azalea leaf is even TOUCHED by you, here’s what’s going to happen.” I rolled up my sleeves to theatrically indicate I was serious. “If you touch the azaleas again, you’re going to the vet. The vet, I am told, has a new
thermometer. A new, bigger one. Big as a screwdriver handle! I heard that it is so big it bugged the eyes out of a teacup poodle!” My threats were working. Rex hung his head down and I noticed a quiver begin at his neck and zip down his spine, ending at the approximate location where the aforementioned thermometer would wreak havoc on his tender parts. “And . . . you know that ABBA album you absolutely despise? Twenty-four seven. Full blast. ‘The Dancing Queen,’ ‘Fernando,’ and ‘Waterloo’ will be blasting throughout this house, non-stop.” Rex’s knees buckled when he heard that one. He went down for a
OF THE MONTH BY BINI The importance of being foolish in JULY is to lie, lie wherever you see fit, because what lies before you, is truth’s true wit.
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July 2013
A DUMB BLONDE... -spent 20 minutes looking at the orange juice box because it said: concentrate.
-under education on her job application, put Hooked on Phonics.
-thought she needed a toke to get on Soul Train.
-tripped over a cordless phone.
-sold the car for gas money.
-put lipstick on her forehead because someone told her to make up her mind.
-took a ruler to bed to see how long she slept.
-went to the airport and saw a sign that said Airport Left, so she turned around and went home.
-told me to meet her at the corner of Walk and Don’t Walk.
-at the bottom of an application where it says sign here, put Sagittarius.
-tried to put M&Ms in alphabetical order.
-asked for a price check at the Dollar Store.
-sent me a fax with a stamp on it.
-studied for a blood test and failed.
-thought a quarterback was a refund.
-thought Boyz II Men was a daycare center.
-got locked in a grocery store and starved to death.
-thought Meow Mix was a record for cats.
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July 2013
A virtual smorgasbord of jokes and otherwise funny stories e-mailed to Foolish Times. Thanks to George Scofield Mr. Sharma comes home one night, and his wife throws her arms around his neck: "I have great news. I'm a month overdue. I think we're going to have a baby! The doctor gave me a test today, but until we find out for sure, we can't tell anybody." The next day, Mrs. Sharma receives a telephone call from Reliance Energy because the electricity bill has not been paid. "Am I speaking to Mrs. Sharma?" "Yes... speaking" Reliance guy, "You're a month overdue, you know!" "How do YOU know?" stammers the young woman. "Well, ma'am, it's in our files!" says the Reliance guy. "What are you saying? It's in your files ...HOW?????" " Yes. We have a system of finding out who's overdue " " GOD!!!!!!. This is too much.” "Madam, I am sorry. I am following orders. I have to inform you, you are overdue" "I know that. Let me talk to my husband about this tonight. He will speak to your company tomorrow." That night, she told her husband about the incident, and he, mad as a bull, rushed to the Reliance office the next day morning. "What's going on? You have it on file that my wife is a month overdue? What business is that of yours?" the husband shouts. "Just calm down," says the lady at the reception at Reliance, "it's nothing serious. All you have to do is pay us."
"PAY you? And if I refuse?" "Well, in that case, sir, we'd have no option but to cut yours off." "And what would my wife do then?" the husband asks. "I don't know. I guess she'd have to use a candle." HOW DOES A CHICKEN GROW? A New York City yuppie moved to the country and bought a piece of land. He went to the local feed and livestock store and talked to the proprietor about how he was going to take up chicken farming. He then asked to buy 100 chicks. "That's a lot of chicks," commented the proprietor. "I mean business," the city slicker replied. A week later the yuppie was back again. "I need another 100 chicks," he said. "Boy, you are serious about this chicken farming," the man told him. "Yeah," the yuppie replied. "If I can iron out a few problems." "Problems?" asked the proprietor. "Yeah," replied the yuppie, "I think I planted that last batch too close together." HORSE PULL An out-of-towner drove his car into a ditch in a desolated area. Luckily, a local farmer came to help with his big strong horse named Buddy. He hitched Buddy up to the car and yelled, "Pull, Nellie, pull." Buddy didn't move. Then the farmer hollered, "Pull, Buster, pull." Buddy didn't respond.
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Once more the farmer commanded, "Pull, Jennie, pull." Nothing. Then the farmer nonchalantly said, "Pull, Buddy, pull." And the horse easily dragged the car out of the ditch. The motorist was most appreciative and very curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times. The farmer said, "Oh, Buddy is blind, and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn't even try!" FEELIN’ FINE Farmer Brown decided his injuries from the accident were serious enough to take the trucking company (responsible for the accident) to court. In court, the trucking company's fancy lawyer was questioning Farmer Brown. "Didn't you say, at the scene of the accident, 'I'm fine'?" asked the lawyer. Farmer Brown responded, "Well I'll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule Bessie into the..." "I didn't ask for any details," the lawyer interrupted, "just answer the question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, 'I'm fine'!" Farmer Brown said, "Well I had just gotten Bessie into the trailer and I was driving down the road..." The lawyer interrupted again and said, "Judge, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the Highway Patrolman on the scene that he was just fine.
Now several weeks after the accident he is trying to sue my client. I believe he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the question." By this time the Judge was fairly interested in Farmer Brown's answer and said to the lawyer, "I'd like to hear what he has to say about his favorite mule Bessie." Brown thanked the Judge and proceeded, "Well as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my favorite mule, into the trailer and was driving her down the highway when this huge semi-truck and trailer ran the stop sign and smacked my truck right in the side." He continued, "I was thrown into one ditch and Bessie was thrown into the other. I was hurting real bad and didn't want to move. However, I could hear ol’ Bessie moaning and groaning. I knew she was in terrible shape just by her groans." "Shortly after the accident a highway patrolman came on the scene. He could hear Bessie moaning and groaning so he went over to her. After he looked at her, he took out his gun and shot her between the eyes. Then the patrolman came across the road with his gun in his hand and looked at me." Finally, farmer Brown came to the end of the story. “ The patrolman looked at me and said, 'Your mule was in such bad shape I had to shoot her. How are YOU feeling'?"
July 2013
9
BY BINI Sudden storms, droughts, floods, earthquakes...Email me: foolsholiday@live.com
Aries: March 21 - April 19
Virgo: August 23 - Sept. 22
Practice sticking things out! Or your toungerine dreams will be Pie in the Sky with diamonds. Picture yourself patiently picking up grains of gunpowder with BBQ tongs. This is living on the edge so go for the best!
In the still of the calm, post-war puffs of smoke, ashes preening the embers and are making brighter the Morse code that signals peace a breeze away. Humpty Dumpty you are not. You will re-assemble yourself and curb your perfectionist appetite. Refrain is your top gain.
Taurus: April 20 - May 20
Libra: Sept. 23 - Oct. 22
Oh, say can you see the forest through the trees?! Bully, let the stars spangle down upon you. Your shadow will know how much BBQ you ate! Remain optimistic it is all an optical illusion.
Be not the judge of the world when your life is a tight rope that dangles above a feather bed. Still, your charm is all consuming to witness. A constant consort of costumes caters to your every calculated whim. How do you do that voodoo? The gym? Or is it that stars & stripes TUTU?!
Gemini: May 21 - June 20 You are endemic with the world electric. Your Mercurial wit always lit to strike out even the most desired cadence after a mouthful of rubbish. Just think of all that SPAM you saved by incessantly yapping. Yap...Yap Cancer: June 21 - July 22 Jewel-lie...floating under the Sassafras trees at Moon Lake, filling up with pink punch, burping alongside the frogs, a candy stripe umbrella behind your ear twirling free, such glee after that MEGA Birthday shopping spree. Branch-out and touch someone, ‘cause now you’re sinking. Leo: July 23 - August 22 Solemnly publish and declare that you have strayed Simba! The truth shall set you free. You have become amorphous compared to the rest of the pride. Temporarily take the form of a hotdog while you plan your next pounce. Meanwhile, serve the people.
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Scorpio: Oct. 23 - Nov. 21 Absorbing, compelling, gripping, yes, but so is skunk odor! Pursuit of happiness is your right, call upon your tribe, bribe them if necessary. Have you heard of the I, I, and I? The I, I, I stands for the intensely intense institute, it is a wonderful oasis, and marshmallows are their trademark. Sagittarius: Nov. 22 - Dec. 21 Watch! I bet you are not wearing one! Watch out you may miss out what time the fireworks go off. Glory is! You are the fireworks. Gotta match? Capricorn: Dec. 22 - Jan. 19 Your power of festooning has brought you Donuts! This may sound like cruel and unusual punishment, since you would rather be brooding over facts of a candid world. Yet, you have reason to celebrate-you have dazzled
them! You’ve been elected President of the 4th of JULY Bake Sale Auction! Who would have thought... Aquarius: Jan 23 - Feb. 18 Red, White, and Blue...unanimously you, an independent creature. Problems arise when your identity is too closely linked to your ideas. When others attack on your personhood, take a freedom cruise before your lurid frippery attracts the flags colors as a bruise. A new world is at hand.
Pisces: Feb. 19 - March 20 WreckFish is what you will amount to if you don’t risk failing! Lurking about lost treasures, will lure you into petty pleasures. No not the Titanic either. Keep your head out of Hollywood. Full steam ahead! Gyres of creative mermaid muses await you. Your uniquely separate station is necessary for the public good.
10
July 2013
Patrol responded to a report of a five-year-old child who was missing. The child was upset about not being able to go to the park and had hidden under a desk. A resident reported that a male that she did not know was sitting on her back porch. The male told her that he wanted to live there. A man wanted police to talk to his mother, because she hits him every time he goes outside to smoke. A Howard Drive woman stated that her 21-year-old son had locked her out of the house after they argued over a dog he had brought home.
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A female called to report a burglary in progress and she was locked in her bathroom for protection. It was her son. His mother thought he had moved out the day before. A man was bouncing a ball in his apartment because he thought a neighbor’s television was too loud.
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A Cayuga Road landlord complained that he did not want his tenant to have visitors.
Holsters Make Funny Tan Lines BY MARY TOMPSETT
Really? You didn’t hear the news? I bet you were busy mending those disgusting 40-year-old Birkenstocks. Or maybe you were out slaughtering your free-range lima beans for the upcoming vegan barbecue. I’m talking about the news that Charleston, West Virginia intends to loosen up its gun laws so people can carry firearms…(you’re gonna love this)…at the public pool. Swimming with guns? Well, dang it, gimme a double-dip Yippee and a chaser of Yeehaw! Surely, I am not the only red-blooded American with poor impulse control and rampant paranoia who is fed up with the roving gangs of splashers, towel stealers and those inevitable idiots who pause with an unfocused gaze to pee in the pool. Listen up, all you heathen socialist urinators— we know what you’re doing! Thank
goodness, in Charleston we won’t have to depend on bored lifeguards to stop texting each other and blow a silly whistle at offenders. No, we’ll just slide a bookmark into our trashy novels and wrap our paws around the Uzi. When everyone is packin’ heat, there are no bad guys and no victims, only heroes. This means guns are the perfect solution to bullying! Of course, accidents are bound to happen. But the inability to foresee consequences is Americans’ greatest strength. Concerning this new pool thing, however, the NRA is urging caution if you try to improve your butterfly stroke while wearing heavy cross-chest ammo belts. And when diving, keep the safety on! Selfinflicted gunshot wounds are an irksome hazard of belly flops. Let’s pray that the new law also extends to lifeguards. These dudes and dolls will need more than a tall chair and a stern glare to handle gun-toting toddlers offing each
other in the shallow end. And while we’re on our knees, we can pray for an expanded municipal budget to build each lifeguard a personal machine gun nest yet still have funds to hire a sniper on the rec center roof.
"But the inability to foresee consequences is Americans’ greatest strength." I do hope West Virginia’s gun law is “open” rather than “concealed carry.” I’ve personally found it to be tricky business concealing a twelvegauge while wearing a thong. And any holster, whether a hip or ankle model, leaves really odd tan lines. This need for gun-toting accessories has prompted me to launch a line of retro bathing caps. Decades ago, caps were worn only by obedient women whose lipstick left smears
across the bottom of the pool. Then, millions of crew-cut boys grew hippie-length hair but refused to stuff it under caps topped with rubber flowers the size of bowling balls. So pool authorities ditched the cap rule, and hair from both sexes merrily swam upstream to clog the nation’s pool filters. ’Twas a sad day when the caps died. I buried mine in the backyard. But I promise to bring back the little beasties. Few swimwear fashions can conceal the popular Magnum 500 double-action revolver effectively and with more class than a giant rubber hibiscus sprouting from the top of your head. © 2013 by Mary Tompsett Mary Tompsett is a humorist who tries to avoid living in a “gated community” because institutional straitjackets are notoriously unflattering. Her novel, Whinny From the Heart, is available through www. booklocker.com
July 2013
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The Birth of a Nation
From the Sandlot
Answers on Page 20
BY HUNTER KOSMALA
WASHINGTON REVERE FLAG SUMPTER SPANGLED FIRECRACKER SPARKLER
INDEPENDENCE PARADE BARBECUE BASEBALL SPEECH CEREMONY GOVERNMENT
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PICNIC COLONIES BRITAIN JEFFERSON CONGRESS
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“Sidney! Sidney!” Jessica yelled across the golf course. It was a sunny day and the humidity made it feel like everything was soaking wet. Maybe that was just me. Jessica and I rushed over to where the others were standing on the 13th green. “Ma’am, I need you to keep your voice down, there is a tournament going on and we wouldn’t want you to distract the golfers,” a Marshall scolded. “Yes sir, sorry, won’t happen again,” Jessica said to one of the hundreds of Marshalls on the course.
"Shhhhhhhhh…..!!" “Yo, Sid. What up?” I said across the green. The Marshall immediately turned around and said, “The same goes for you buster.” “Sorry sir, But there is nobody on the green and nobody on the tee box, is it really that big of a deal?” “My job is to stop hooligans like you from disturbing golfers at the tournament,” he said with a snide tone. Sidney walked over to say hi to Jessica and me as the others followed. Sidney is one of those kids who thinks he owns the world, and in this case he actually does. His dad is not only a member of the country club we were at but he is also the president of the country club. Jessica looked at Sidney and said, “This Marshall is being rude to us and we just got here.” “Well sweetie what did he say and what did you do,” he said chuckling a little, knowing she easily could’ve done something against
the rules. Well he got mad at us for trying to get your attention and said we were hooligans and then told Hunter that he would kick us out of the tournament if we did it again. She may have exaggerated just a little with the kicking out part, but she was trying to get her point across. Sidney looked at the Marshall, an older man in purple pants and a white polo, “Sir,” Sidney yelled on purpose to get his attention. The man surprisingly did not turn around. “Sir, I’d like to speak with you,” he said a little bit louder. This time he turned around and headed over. “Sir, do you know who I am?” Sidney asked the guy. “No, but I need you to quiet down.” “Ok, I will but I have one more question? Do you know who my dad is?” “Again, no I don’t know who you or your father is.” “Well let me explain this to you. My father is the president of this country club and not only is he the president but he is also standing over on the 14th tee box.” “Let me see your pass to confirm this,” the Marshall said. “Actually let me do this, I’ll show you in another way.” Sidney walked over to the closest police officer and showed him his badge. I don’t know what he said to the officer but after about five minutes of talking the officer came over, questioned the Marshall for a little bit and then escorted him out of the tournament. “Sir, Sir, do you believe me now?” Sidney yelled as the man walked away. A loud “shhhhhhhh,” came from the crowd and Sidney simply laughed.
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There is only one rule: Every row, column and box of 3x3 cells must contain the numbers 1 through 9 exactly once.
C K
Answers on Page 20
BY ROBYN JUSTO
FEAR OF PARKING LOTS I don’t scare easily, but the world isn’t feeling like much of a safe place to me anymore. And I have never had a lot of unfounded fears or phobias, although I admittedly went horizontally airborne and landed on my little Mom one time when the ground started to shake under my feet. I don’t do well with earthquakes, so I guess I am afraid of those. But lately, I have developed a serious and well-founded fear of parking lots. It feels a LOT, pun intended, like being in a pinball machine. I recently watched a guy drive over the curb into a cement planter. He wasn’t an old guy and he didn’t look drunk. He
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just sat there, apparently stunned that he was where he was. I notice that this is happening more and more. Are people even in their human shell casings anymore? I say, “Get innie your Audi, people!” Be present and accounted for and watch the hell where you are going or stay out of the car and out of my way. Texting, talking, and literally driven to distraction. Having spent most of my adult life in field sales, I have learned to drive with one eye in the rearview mirror (checking for the black and whites most of the time) and also to be aware of everything happening around me. But I can’t say the same for whoever or whatever is automating most vehicles I see in motion these days. Today I was at the post office, calmly walking across the parking lot when I suddenly found myself running for my life. A gal was backing up quickly and had not looked to see
that I was there. Sure, she apologized, which didn’t help my afibrillating heart. Geez. A little while later when I was driving down the road, another driver pulled out, racing around another car leaving a parking lot on my right, and almost drove right into the side of my car. Is it me? Is the object of this game to run into ME? The other day I was in what I consider to be a high-risk parking lot (Target and other popular stores.) I had my eye on a guy who was turning down into my row. I had just gotten into my car. He passed without incident, or so I thought. I turned my head in all directions and all was clear. As I backed up, I felt a loud thud at the rear of my car. I turned to see what I thought was his car, pretty well attached to mine. I jumped out of the car ready to yell, but had the feeling that I should look at my bumper first. And then I saw that the driver was not the man, but a woman around
my age. She looked at her bumper too and we were both astonished to see that neither car had as much as a scratch on it. “I was looking at HIM!” she said, obviously referring to the same man I saw pass the moment before. “Me too!!” I replied. Oddly enough, it was a fender bender without the bend and we both instinctively hugged it out right there in the Target parking lot and we were respectfully on our respective ways. So I guess some good things can happen in some lots, sometimes. Nonetheless, I keep to the edges now whenever possible. And I guess I’m doing the same thing with life in general…staying on the perimeters. It might not be any safer here, but at least I won’t feel like a moving target (at Target or elsewhere.) Then again, this just might be my lot in life.
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July 2013
For the Love of Fur BY ROSIE SORENSON Something’s wrong with our cats. Nothing physical, thank goodness, but I feel I should lower my voice to a whisper so they can’t hear me telling you, “ They’re too darned polite.” I know what you’re thinking. Cats – polite? What has this woman been smoking? When they’re hungry, they sit quietly in the hallway next to the kitchen and stare at us. No need to say a word. One of us will hop right on the food-getting thing. Or the toy-fetching thing. Sometimes they prefer toys to food. Aren’t humans handy to have around? Billy begs me, silently, to throw his little plastic coil into the living room so he can bat it all over the house. Sugar urges me, silently, to fling her white fuzzy mouse toward the slick tiled bathroom floor where she can knock it around forever. After each daily occurrence, Steve and I look at each other, shake our heads and in hushed tones say, “ This is not right. We’ve ruined them. They’re supposed to be cats!” Sugar and Billy are undermining 55 million years of feline evolution. Billy, our strawberry blonde rescue kitty, was diagnosed last year with asthma which means we have to give him a pill every other day for the rest of his life. When we received his diagnosis, we thought back to our previous rescue kitty, Turtleman, who hated taking a pill more than he hated thunder and lightning. He’d howl and twist his head
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away. I wouldn’t give up. Eventually, he opened his mouth and pretended to accept the pill from me. “See what a good boy I am?” In the morning, of course, I’d find the round white tablet on the bed or the floor. Rotten cat. But, Billy? Once the vet demonstrated how to use the “piller” device, and once Steve suggested we reward Billy with some Temptations, i.e. Kitty
“On pill day, Billy twitters with anticipation.” Kocaine, right after giving him his pill – why, now, when I come out of my shower, he’s sitting quietly, obediently on my bed. “I’m here, dear Mommy, to receive my medication. Please don’t forget my treats.” On pill day, Billy twitters with anticipation. He hops onto the bed, ready for his treatment. I gently put my left hand around his head and coax his mouth open while holding the long, slender piller in my right hand so I can insert it over the hump of his tongue. At that point, I press on the plunger and the deed is done! Billy gulps down the pill and scarfs up the Temptations. Sugar, our Siamese rescue, loves to sit on my lap when I’m at the computer. She will quietly approach my chair and look up at me with her limpid, pleading
blue eyes until I say, “Come on up, Sugar!” Then she jack-rabbits up to my lap, circles around a few times and settles down for some serious purrs and a big nap. Sugar and Billy even play quietly together for awhile until one of them has had enough. Billy loves to sneak up on Sugar (oh, like she doesn’t know he’s coming!) and put the bite on her neck as if to hold her down for mating. This is particularly funny because both cats have been fixed. Billy doesn’t bite very hard, but he holds the superior position for a long time, pinning her to the floor. It’s as if he were thinking, “Okay, I’ve got the neck-biting thing down, but now what?” Sugar lets out a soft cry, “Oooh, meeeeew,” as if feigning fright, or perhaps she’s singing some primitive mating song, we’re not sure, but it’s obvious she’s capable of getting away if she wanted to. Billy just hangs on and sometimes steps on her belly. That crosses an invisible line for Sugar who leaps up and smacks him: “Your foreplay leaves a lot to be desired, Billy!” Billy yelps and runs away. “I thought you liked it. What did I do wrong?” At least in that regard they’re Real Cats. Rosie Sorenson is a recovering psychotherapist and an award-wining writer whose work has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, and other publications. They Had Me at Meow is a collection of stories and color photos of Rosie’s f ifteen-year relationship with a colony of homeless cats who have helped her recover from a long bout with chronic fatigue. Meow won the 2009 Muse Medallion Award from the Cat Writers Association and the 2010 Best Pets Book award from BAIPA. For more information and to order her book, please visit her website: www.TheyHadMeAtMeow.com.
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continued from page 6 - Rex count of three but got back up. “The Hernandez cat. Remember that vicious beast who is responsible for that recurring scab on your snout? Well, I’m going to get the Hernandez cat and THROW him at you! He’ll tear into you like a buzz saw!” Rex collapsed. He peed on the table. My threats were finally getting through. I hate to use threats, but at some point you gotta’ throw up your arms in defeat and get tough. Desperate situations call for desperate measures. (I think Johnny Carson said that during his fourth divorce.) I picked Rex up and cuddled him. “Rexie, I love you. But you can’t
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destroy things. At least not my things. So go on outside. Play. Have fun. Go see Millie next door. I’ll come out in a while and play catch with you.” I put him down on the floor and he scampered out his doggie door as I cleaned the table top. Feeling guilty for maybe being too hard on him, I grabbed the tennis ball and decided to go play catch with him immediately. Bond with him. Like father and son. A new beginning. I opened the back door. Rex had been busy. Very busy. Not one azalea bush was left standing. Rex and Tom, or Tom and Rex can be reached at burns100@earthlink.net
from page 8
foolish search's answers
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Guide to Local Businesses & Services Guide to Local Businesses & Services
CAMERA REPAIR
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PoquET says: Humans are like little Chatty-Cathy dolls...yada, yada‌too many words. Oh, sweet Mother of Megan Fox, Earthlings. Cut the string and have a chatty catharsis!
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July 2013
Musings by Mike BY MIKE MANSELLE The story must be told. It will change the way you think about everything. Nothing in your life will be the same. Look at me when I'm talking to you. I know what you are thinking. Universal truth in a supermarket throwaway? And I have no credentials. What time I haven't been in my cab I've spent at the track. I've wasted most of my life and plan on wasting a lot more. I'm not Billy Graham, Pat Robertson, or even that Osteen guy. By the way, I was channel flipping the other day and I came across Jim Baker! Seems to me like he's still selling swamp land in Florida, and it looks like he dug up Tammy Fay and married her again! Listen, the New York Times was afraid of this story. Hell, I almost didn't make this paper because I'm not talkin’ to my dog. But the truth is still the truth and I'm gonna blow the lid off! Krakatoa was a burp! Here it is in one sentence: There are no coincidences. That's it. I can prove it.
Years ago, I did a favor for some high school kids. I took them across town for free after the busses stopped running, late one Saturday night. They never forgot. Years later I picked them up at band practice and they were grown up rock stars who treated ME like a rock star. They introduced me to their girlfriends and gave me a huge tip.
“Here it is in one sentence: There are no coincidences. “ I guarantee you they would have remembered it too if I had left them there that night. Never mind who they were, cosmically you never know. Come down from your tall buildings America, because you just never know. Next, I will investigate why Mexican bottled Coke tastes so much better than canned. Eat your heart out, Good Morning America. -Mike Manselle
Quirky Quotations THE QUOTATION QUIZ OF QUESTIONABLE QUALITY BY QUARLEN QUROSSMAN
Can you guess who said the following? 1. "I had some eyeglasses. I was walking down the street when suddenly the prescription ran out." A. Benjamin Franklin B. Steven Wright 2. “Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped.” A. Groucho Marx B. Hippocrates 3. “Several excuses are always less convincing than one.” A. Richard Nixon B. Aldous Huxley 4. “Life is not a static thing. The only people who do not change their minds are incompetents in asylums, and those in cemeteries.” A. Everett Dirksen B. Captain Kangaroo 5. "I like to have a martini, / Two at the very most./ After three I'm under the table,/ after four I'm under my host.” A. Queen Elizabeth II B. Dorothy Parker 6. “Everybody has got to die, but I have always believed an exception would be made in my case.” A. William Saroyan B. Betsy Ross 7. “Flattery is like chewing gum. Enjoy it but don't swallow it.” A. Socrates B. Hank Ketcham 8. “You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.” A. Woody Allen B. Dakota Fanning Answers (all true): 1-B, 2-A, 3-B, 4-A, 5-B, 6-A, 7-B, 8-A Scoring: (number correct ) 7-8: Passive, 5-6: Aggressive, 3-4: Passive-Aggressive, 1-2: Obnoxious, 0: Catatonic Quarlen Qurossman writes a slightly less quirky quotation quiz under the pseudonym Arlen Grossman in the Monterey County Herald and at quotationquotient.com.
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