Foolish Times February 2017

February 2017

This summarizes my love life

I’m the one in blue...

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February 2017

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February 2017

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.

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List of Fools Chucklehead.......................Stevie P. Editorial Fool..........................Susie Q. Sales Fools.............................Karen S.

Hutch Art Fool.......................Mama Morgan Toddler Fool......................Jonah Dee

Contributors

Bini, Lily Brun, Max Cannon, Roger Freed, Ted Gargiulo, Dennis Hengeveld, Zachary Jack, Daria James, Robyn Justo, Rex Keyes, David Schmidt, Chuck Shepherd, Rosie Sorenson, Laura Sottile, Monty Truitt

The Chucklehead Speaks There are a few Hallmark Holidays that can cause more stress than needed. The two obvious examples are Father’s Day and Valentine’s Day. I lived my first six years in New Jersey. Even though Jersey is a “third world country,” we lived in a very happy home and quiet community. My older brother looked similar to the mailman and I looked like the milkman. My Dad was an easy going kind of guy and didn’t give it any thought. That was before we moved across the Delaware River to Pennsylvania and had the same mailman and milkman.

While some of the details of this story are not true, it raises a good point and probably the reason there is no direct milk delivery to homes anymore. Are you listening Mr. Postmaster?

Valentine’s Day is a day for love. It’s also a day of expectations not met. A woman’s brain is showing a full length looping motion picture of running gracefully through a field only to be swept up by the man she loves. Truth is, your guy didn’t read the memo, has allergies, called too late to a florist and the Open Table website was down because it was

overloaded with shmucks trying to get a table for two at the last minute. Standing in front of all the greeting cards at the car wash, he realizes that this is not what he signed up for and he’s going to be in a world of hurt; if not loneliness.

For those who are on the hamster wheel of online dating…we already made fun of this in our March 2015 issue and there is little to add although for the sake of repeating myself…jump off, get out and make eye contact with someone. Try having a conversation without an expectation. And please ladies, don’t have your dog with you everywhere you go.

In the end, love yourself and don’t put so much pressure on a holiday that is symbolized by a baby shooting an arrow. He may miss your heart and end up as a huge big pain in your ass.

Stevie P. / publisher@foolishtimes.net

Foolish Times

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February 2017

www.foolishtimes.net closet!” No response. “Bob!” she called in a louder voice, “come out of that closet this instant!”

Nothing. “Bob!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, “I order you to get out of that closet this instant!”

“No, I won’t!” came her husband’s muffled cry from inside the closet. “I’ll show you who’s boss in this house!”

Like most women, Sandy loves going shopping, much to her husbands chagrin.

“Here take a look at this,” says her husband Tom, shoving the credit card statement in front of her. “You spent $250 at Macy’s, $150 at Nordstrom, $122 at Lord and Taylor, and another $225 at JC Penny. How in the world do you expect me to pay for all of this?”

“Well,” answers Sandy, taken aback, “I’ve been accused of many things before, but one thing I am certainly not is inquisitive!”

“Ok everyone,” said the instructor at the birthing class trying to get everyone’s attention. “We are going to do an exercise now, that’s purpose is to help the men sympathize with their partners.”

“We have here what’s called a pregnancy suit,” said the woman instructor, holding up an artificial stomach with a strap. “This imitates the feeling of being pregnant.” Which Husband volunteers to be the first one to try it on?”

“I will” said one man, taking the suit and trying it on. “This isn’t too bad said the man walking around. I think I could get used to this.”

“Okay,” said the instructor smiling, “now I would like you to bend down and pick up my pen from the floor.”

“You want me to pick it up?”

he said hesitantly, “just as I would if I was pregnant?”

“Yes!” said the instructor.

“Honey,” said the man turning to his spouse “do you mind picking up that pen for me?”

“Mom, Dad, sit down. I have something very important to tell you,” said Samantha, upon her return home from college after graduation. “I met a guy who lives near the college that I really like and we decided we are going to get married!”

“Oh Samantha! I am so happy for you!” gushed her Mom giving her a big hug, “I hope you two will be really happy together! I can’t wait to meet him!”

“Tell us more about him” said her Dad, “does he have any money?”

“Oh Dad! Is that all you men ever think about? That was the first question he asked me about you too!”

A man was married to a woman whose commands to her husband were as sharp as the bite of a barracuda. It wasn’t so much that he was a coward, or too timid to talk back, but you know how it is… let’s keep peace in the family.

One day the wife invited a group from the local women’s club to her house for tea and discussions. To make sure that her husband did not interrupt the

goings-on, she ordered him into the closet and sternly told him to stay there until the last lady had left. During their bridge game, the ladies of the club spoke of the authority they wielded over respective husbands.

Not to be outdone, the hostess informed the others that not only had she ordered her husband into the closet, but she could order him to come out, at will. “I’ll prove it,” she boasted. “Bob!” she commanded, “come out of that

If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?

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February 2017

What’s Up Doc? A blonde has sharp pains in her side. The doctor examines her and says, “You have acute appendicitis.”

The blonde says, “That’s sweet, doc, but I came here to get medical help.”

Tan for Two One day two blondes walked into a tanning salon. One blonde said, “A tan for two please!”

The cashier said, “Ok,” filled out a form for them and asked, “Are you two sisters?”

They chuckled and replied, “No, we aren’t even Catholic.”

Across the Pond A blonde rings up an airline. She asks, “How long are your flights from America to England?”

The woman on the other end of the phone says, “Just a minute.”

The blonde says, “Thanks!” and hangs up the phone.

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“My God!” the trooper gasped.

“Your car looks like an accordion that was stomped on by an elephant. Are you OK ma’am?”

“Yes, officer, I’m just fine,” the blonde chirped.

“Well, how in the world did this happen?” the officer asked as he surveyed the wrecked car.

“Officer, it was the strangest thing!” the blonde began. I was driving along this road when from out of nowhere this tree pops up in front of me. So I swerved to the right, and there was another tree!

I swerved to the left and there was another tree! I served to the right and there was another tree!

I swerved to the left and there was ....”

“Uh, ma’am,” the officer said, cutting her off, “There isn’t a tree on this road for 30 miles. That was your air freshener swinging back and forth.”

A good boyfriend never has…

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Zooom What are the two blondes on the motorcycle arguing about? Who gets the window seat.

Treee-riffic A blonde had just totaled her car in a horrific accident.

Miraculously, she managed to pry herself from the wreckage without a scratch and was applying fresh lipstick when the state trooper arrived.

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February 2017

Comments Welcome: lalaugh6@gmail.com Aries: (Mar 21–Apr 19) The Ram Flirting with disaster! Atrocious what the powers of infatuation can do. Tried to ARM-pitt against you and sniff you out. Rambitious, you go undefeated! Rising to the occasion of temperatures unforeseen, you burn right through the atmospheric haze.

Hope may float you a little while.

But the gravity of true love will mystify you. Contact Ground control, orbit back to Earth and take a shower!

Taurus: (Apr 20–May 20) The Bull Your face of love is showing.

Through your morning brew, smoke signals are telling you that you are threw Don Juanita! AH, screw it, you are in love and you must fair equal to all the inhabitants you have accrued & tell them of your newly appointed curfew. Release past-lost love(s), they were only something you misplaced from the start.

Gemini: (May 21–Jun 20) The Twins My Fair Lady fell in love with Henry Higgins even after she lost her innocence in that scalding bath, and barely escaped its wrath. Finally, with much preserverence, the Rain in Spain fell mainly on her vein (of gold), voila success! It is not a crime to lose your way or your hair or gain it in unsightly places. What is important is that you insist on action! GEM you can love love’s deliciously low moments too.

Cancer: (Jun 21–Jul 22) The Crab Enough of that insolent clawing over your lost honor! Too much

pride can make you prejudice.

It’s creating a wake big enough to shove you into a narrow berth, one you can never reverse out of amigo. Use your head ~ (Or just turn around.) Don’t be a bleak pecker, rip hard into your own shell, and let the love ooze unreservedly.

Leo: (Jul 23–Aug 22) The Lion Oh Punchy Paws! No one better than you to sacrifice for love!

You will make a show of it and entertain the whole bunch of us.

Life is a stage, so said Will Shake ~ Those envious testy testicles always around testifying that you are not worthy of this move!

(Relax its only chess): The King for his second draught brings forth his Queen and both peruse all across the board leaving only skid marks of sorts.

Virgo: (Aug 23–Sep 22) The Virgin Virgo - August 23 - September 22 the Virgin Through a dark and futile door, a small dive, soft piano music in the background, and Moby Dick splashing gaily on the TV screen.

He is a big dick in a vast sea, kid, see. You too have to fight for what you want. Use your pheromones as a harpoon and rope one in, gingerly please! Don’t let your date ended up in the emergency room again. ...here, here fishy.

Libra: (Sep 23–Oct 22) The Scales Manipulation, derived form the Latin word meaning “handful” in your case handfull! Take a rest from your control issues with loved ones. You are smothering them like a terrorist. I know

you feel cherubic, and yet those hickeys you have plundered resemble a bull’s-eye. These frothy imbalances only leave you dehydrated. Imbibe!

Scorpio: (Oct 23 –Nov 21) The Scorpion Love is never having to say you’re Horney, not with your Scorpiophonic waves. The dances of love though not always dripping with sweat, flood & fears, friction or fiction or harmonious diction, what’s left you ask? Not much really, except if you watch & listen closely Forgivenessa and Loyaltino are not just Italian video game names for handsome virtual couples running through ancient shrubbery...

Stop clearing your throat; it only makes it terribly obvious.

Sagittarius: (Nov 22–Dec 21) The Archer Sagittarius - November 22 December 21 the Archer Master Archer, a roll, roll, roll in ZEE hay, will keep the doc away!

Your power of folly is so jolly and it knocked you off your feet today.

Apparently, once you found out your lover was a gluten-free lay, you went a little Abby Normal and ate them in the archway. Huzzah!

Capricorn: (Dec 22– Jan 19) The Goat The power of silence you foster all too well, ‘tis no secret where you dwell. Knock Knock, hell, anybody there? Most often, misinterpreted as your disdain for love. What gives you away are those Goose bumps large as mice crawling upon you and spelling out this vice. Thrice dare declare your words of love; it is much to do about something!

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By Bini Aquarius: (Jan 23–Feb 18) The Water-Carrier Getting a-Head is not something you need, you having plenty of brainpower. Remember love’s home is not to be found in your cabessa. Question your progress in this new love all aglow, is it real or imagined? The Body Blue, 80% liquid emotion ebbing and flowing, churning and burning and blowing...out your Birthday candles of course.

Pisces: (Feb 19–Mar 20) The Fishes You are THE compassion fashionista! You have swished across oceans of seaweed; tail spun the sea’s paint from indigo, to celadon, to emerald green and linked the oceans depth to the caviar galaxies above. This is certainly enough to begin weaning off those sour romances that you mistake for turtledoves. True Love Actually is warning you that your heels are sinking into the mud; wake up you Elmer Fudd! What you need now is love, sweet love...

Do you have a date for valentines day?

Yes, February 14th.

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February 2017

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Bruised, Not Abused …

Dazed and Confused

by Robyn Justo They say that Maui lets you know when it’s time to leave the island.

There are always signs. I have had a delightful run here, but recently I have been asking myself if I am missing those signs or simply missing my peeps and the Monterey Peninsula. Same ocean, different side, I know and yet something seems to be beckoning me back.

When one does not pay attention (because anyone would be ecstatic to live on one of the most beautiful islands on the planet, right?) one not only gets more signs. One gets nudged by the Universe.

Y’all know from an article of mine a while back that I am one of

the clumsies. But what happened last week either arose from my more stubborn side or the Universe wanted to make a point.

It was garbage day. I hate garbage day. As I get older, I find myself annoyed by having to put gas in my car, shop for groceries, do laundry, take the compost out, cook my own meals, and do my housekeeping. I am afraid I am becoming one of those crotchety ones one hears about, but I want a replicator, a robot, and a personal chef in these autumn or winter years of mine. Is it just me?

I live alone on a huge piece of property and yet my landlord has a huge rolling can for me to push out to the street, once a week,

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holding my tiny, low-footprint bag of refuse. But last week I thought I would take advantage of said can and stuff a heavy, broken, iron lawn chair into it to get our money’s worth. The chair wouldn’t fit, but I kept trying and finally got it in, upside down, legs up.

I was rolling it through the gravel, or trying to. It wouldn’t budge. I pushed hard and the can went out from under my grip, leg of the chair propelling itself into my head, laying me out right there on the driveway before the Maui sun came up (same sun, different side.)

But I was not going to lay there and let the centipedes, ants, crab and cane spiders eat me alive (or dead.)

It hurt. It hurt bad. But I was not going to lay there and let the centipedes, ants, crab and cane spiders eat me alive (or dead.)

And they would have every right to as I had been a ravaging terminator over the past few years, wielding my can of Raid and wooden sword. I dragged myself up and made it into my ohana, leg bleeding, and forehead sporting a huge dinosaur egg.

I scared myself. This was bad.

Stubborn me finally went back out to the scene of the accident and finished rolling the can to the street, positioning the chair carefully into the can. I held vigil to make sure that the garbage collector accepted my donation because if he didn’t, I was going to give him a dino egg to match mine.

Slow forward and I made it to the doc who didn’t inform me until a few days later that what she saw made her unable to sleep, and I had not even begun to bruise

into my lovely purple, Rhonda Rousey TKO eyeshadow. As a side note, it is funny that people automatically think that bruising and abusing go together in the same sentence. Not so, unless one counts being abused by a chair.

Now if SHE was worried, so was I. She mentioned skull fractures and internal bleeding in the brain and yikes.

When I saw her a few days later, I explained that I was atypically irritable (not just experiencing the normal crotchety aversion to chores.) I was afraid to be around people because everyone was annoying the crap out of me. Friends who saw the photos were texting “Ha Ha” and “LOL” messages. WTF was my response.

Some minimized my injury and situation and went straight on into going on and on about what was happening in their lives, personal drama, etc. I didn’t want pity, but just an honorable moment of silence.

My doc told me it was normal to have mood changes because I was having post concussion symptoms. Temporary reason to be a bitch. This might be useful.

Typically I am incredibly compassionate and empathetic.

But she informed me that I now had no censor and that perhaps some of these people and their actions always bothered me. Now I couldn’t hold back when facing what felt like insensitivity.

The only safe thing to do was recluse myself (and save some friendships), bruises and all, and wait it out. Maybe the old Robyn would come back. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t.

Maybe it was a sign, a whack from the Universe. Time for this one to come home?

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February 2017

Weirder Than A Stephen King Novel - A Rock Band With King and Dave Barry In It!

by Roger Freed Let Me Introduce You To The Rock Bottom Remainders!!!

Unannounced to most of us, one of the most incredible rock and roll groups has passed before us and we didn’t even notice it. Maybe most of us were too stoned to catch it.

This group was named The Rock Bottom Remainders and should have made the cover of the Rolling Stone except for one problem — it was made up of mostly literary figures. The thought of listening to people involved heavily with books and articles is enough to send most hard core rockers into a catatonic state. Stephen King, of course, is famous for his many best selling horror stories such as Carrie, The Dead Zone, Cujo and so many others that he himself cannot remem-ber all of them. Dave Barry is the famed humor writer who won the Pulitzer Prize for his hilari-ous newspaper columns and hasm written several best selling books himself. (One wonders what the Pulitzer Prize statuette for humor looks like; clowns jumping out of a golden Volkswagen Beetle?)

Add to this dynamic duo the talents of Amy Tan, the author of The Joy Luck Club, Mitch Albom of Tuesdays With Morrie fame, Simpson cartoon creator Matt Groening (OK, the Simpsons aren’t really literature but, heh, this is America and anything goes here), and humor writer Roy Blount Jr. With that line-up they should be able to win the World Series.

But instead they played rock and roll.

Really.

This is really, really, really true. This is a real band and these famous people made up its members. And they have been trying to live it down for years now.

Anyway, the Rock Bottom Remainders apparently perform a couple times of year publicly, and, as Dave Barry wrote famously, once for the opening of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. It is part of their determined effort now that they have conquered the world of writing to take over a hunk of the

musical universe as well. Already they are giving Adele panic attacks from the threat of their competition.

It is part of their determined effort now that they have conquered the world of writing to take over a hunk of the musical universe as well.

According to Dave Barry, they got Amy Tan to wear a mini skirt to sing “These Boots Are Made For Walking”. According to Dave Barry, that is (it might have just been a fantasy that he had that he mistook for real. You know how it is with these professional musicians and their drugs).

Many of those in the music field fear this new assault to their status with good reason.

Would you want to be up against a group whose main member is a man who, if angered, could

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write a novel about you in which you die horribly, such as being skewered by a satellite dish tower in a tornado or being pulled in through a too narrow heating duct by some sort of space alien who took up residence there or being abducted by a race of small people who want to include you in a sport they play that involves dismemberment or any number of other grim, painful demises that only the imagination of Stephen King could come up with?

Add to that threat the fact that you have three humor writers in the band as well with wits that they hone daily with a sharpening wheel who could lampoon you to death mercilessly from the pages of their respective writing kingdoms. Dave Barry, Roy Blount Jr. and Matt Groening all seem like nice guys on the surface, but get in the way of their desire for dominion in the musical world and you might find them to be screaming banshees of an entirely different ilk.

The Rock Bottom Remainders play a fusion of old classics (what else would they know having a mean average age of around 90) rock and pop. Before you laugh and say how much of a threat could a bunch of old guys like that be just remember what Susan Boyle did to the competition in the British version of American Idol.

Also remember the Rolling Stones are still around.

And speaking of Rolling Stones.

Doesn’t it sound like the Rock Bottom Remainders should have made the cover of the magazine version?

What do you call two birds in love?

Tweethearts.

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February 2017

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FOOL

CURB

1) Why is it special to be named Bob? 2) If you could change your name…

3) Would you name your child Bob?

Bob 1

1) You don’t have to be a genius to spell my name 2) I like things easy. Maybe Rob. 3) My daughter would not approve

Robert

1) I’m really a Robert 2) I would like to be called Captain Oddpants 3) I’m a Robert junior and my son is the third.

Does that answer your question?

There is only one rule: Every row, column and box of 3x3 cells must contain the numbers 1 through 9 once.

Roberta

1) I don’t know. I’m not a Bob 2) I like my name and wouldn’t change it 3) There are enough Bobs in the world

Bob 2

1) I’d rather be a Bob than a Dick 2) Call me anything but late for dinner 3) Not a chance

Bob 3

1) It’s a palindrome and easy to remember 2) I’d spell it backwards 3) For sure Answers on page 24

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February 2017

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To All the Cats I’ve Loved Before

By Debbie Harris To all the cats I’ve loved before....

Who’ve traveled in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and “for heaven’s sake make up your mind!!” and out and in and out my door, I’m glad you were my kitty; I wrote this little ditty For all the cats I’ve loved before.

To cats who slept upon my head and coughed up fur balls on my bed My time with you was nice; thanks for the dead mice To all the cats I’ve loved before . . .

After having had at least one cat to share my living space with since I was four years old (so at least 20 years—wink), I recently became catless. Oh what a feline ride it’s been.

Pepper presented me with a dead mouse accompanied by a bit of clover—my Valentine’s meal with garnish.

In approximate order of appearance: Sabbie, Dusty, Rusty, Chester, FooFoo, SooSoo, Muffin, Ginger, Chloe, Nate, Pepper and Tigrita. Pepper was my most recent contribution to kitty heaven, a beautiful, graceful Siamese Lynx, who hunted with a singular focus. After being missing for hours, she would show up proudly with a kill. Then she would eat several servings of canned cat food, and sleep for 12 hours.

I first noticed Pepper’s mousing abilities when she was about a year old and she presented me with a toy mouse while I was mopping the floor. I thought it was so cute that she was sharing her toy until I saw that this toy was limp and had feet. Her kill, my gift. For Valentine’s Day a few years after I became single, Pepper presented me with a dead mouse accompanied by a bit of clover—my Valentine’s meal with garnish.

Chloe was my older son’s cat; she slept with him and, when presented with the opportunity, would lick his head as if she were grooming her kitten. She became especially interested in my son’s room when he set up a fish tank in there and even ate fish food, which smells like fish (are fish cannibals?). Once on my way into the house loaded down with bags, I wasn’t able to stop Chloe from entering with a dead bird in her mouth. She dropped the bird on the living room floor and then coughed. Several feathers flew out of her mouth — just like a cartoon.

Nate, a 25-pound orange Tabby with a tiny “meow” was my (then) husband’s cat. He had been a feral (the cat, not the husband . . . although . . .) that my mother fed outside her house. Nate had to be taught some indoor-being-withpeople manners but still would run off with a piece of chicken or a hamburger patty if any food was left within his (high) reach. He went bonkers over cake donuts and had to be locked in the garage when anyone ate one.

My favorite cat of all the cats I’ve loved was FooFoo, a blue-eyed, white angora, who,

according to breed literature, should have been deaf, but wasn’t.

She loved me; I was her person.

She traveled across country via car twice with my husband and me during our early years when he was in the Coast Guard. I didn’t know many people in the places we landed so FooFoo was my constant companion. I could never get up too many times that she wouldn’t return to my lap again when I sat down. She trusted us completely and allowed us to do just about any grooming treatment without a fight.

FooFoo had a quirky habit of sucking the fur between her paw pads and kneading with her other paw when she was content and

would snuggle with any other cat we brought home — except Nate, who, as a male, decided he would dominate. FooFoo was old and frail at that time, but she taught him to respect the elderly when he tried to push her around.

Shortly after his arrival, we found him backed up against the water heater in the garage, with FooFoo giving him no way out. It took a lot out of her, but she showed him that no young, brash upstart was going to claim her territory!

So, to all the cats I’ve loved: Thanks for the friendship, the companionship, and the unconditional acceptance. Enjoy kitty heaven!

Things wedding guests should not do Dress casual for a formal affair This is one of two times you wear a tie Bring the bride’s ex as a guest Unless he “switched to the other team” “Grind Dance” with the bride’s mother Only the groom can do that Wear white Only the bride can do that Show up late Only the bride can do that Get trashed Only the bride can do that

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February 2017

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Greeter of the Human Race ….continued

By Laura “LA” Sottile

Attic Cafe WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT? June Lockhart’s famous line in Lost in Space. I too feel a bit lost in space and asking who am I and what do I want. When that happens I visit the attic, the attic of my soul.

PENNY ARCAY is telling me “Too lofty.”

Alrighty then, the attic! I will be reinstated into the web of life.

I can then reclaim my place as the Greeter of the Human Race and I will continue to Greet, Meet, and Treat on the street of life while I attempt to fulfill my potential complexity. I’m climbing the dark stairs to find the light, and light

biscuits and tea too, I hope.

“Penny, oh Penny Arcay, did you hear me?”

I actually need a salve as well, after all those courageous protestors I humbly greeted, my calloused hands, arms, elbows, and armpits are in dire need of hydration from all the hugging, shaking, squeezing! I was exhausted but I never felt better and it was all gluten free. These human recipients who managed to elect themselves worthy were triumphant!

OUCH! I stepped on a tack! ~ It was electrifying! Armed forces pulling together in the most loving embrace. Bursts rippled upon our winter skin and gracefully pulled us apart. Love did not leave.

Penny Arcay says I am teetering on mush!

There! Made it to the stop stair!

In this state of obscurity and ambiguity I see a shadow upon this final stair. The phase of this day’s light appears like a french fan. Named a flabellum back in the 6th century. It was used to drive insects away.

I can think of a few large insects I’d like to swat! Moving on and up…

In my Attic Cafe perspective depends on the angle of the light that hits the object. Straight on I meet dust particles snowing their way across the beam of light to find their home atop an old oak table. Abandoned webs mystify the ambiance. The fragments of a prism by an old wine bottle turned kaleidoscope in this dome’s one window sill with twilight just outside harmonizing a simultaneous atmosphere of diffusion and illumination.

Better than my I-Phone could indulge me. A large floral box brightly beckons. An old chapeau, brimless, a tunic with stained pockets full of potions waiting for a rainy day that thank God never came.

A beloved lonesome shoe, a knobless tiny red door, dead seeds, a chipped emerald rhinestone all seem insignificant and yet speak to each other as they belong together in time.

It’s those little things that make up the big things. Have we lost our light touch I wonder? AH! La piece de resistance, a photo of Stefania, the Queen of Pizza at her “BAO BAO” restaurant. In the background an empty chair drowning under an awning. Rain beads appear as tiny stars as they

hit the white vinyl. We humanoids seem to be endlessly rummaging through undetachable memories that sprout sequences of either transmutational moments or hard earth answerless ones that stop our breath for a second or two, then somehow settle in their appropriate station.

Even though I’m novice about humanity, I try to touch the world a little more each day and more often that not I find it flinching.

Except for Stefania, a great lady who taught me that kneading and touching is essential. Ah yes, but I trust inside this Pagoda obstacles transform into challenges and rise to the occasion of life. AHHH! You are here. I smell your cologne in this handkerchief. A secret we all know about…there are others… just like us….Everywhere. Ah yes, more and more handkerchiefs, I shall tie them together and rope my way down, for I cannot exit the same way I entered. One must always leave a space changed, and a space for change. Down, down they go! Where they’ll stop…

“Why, hello down there, who are you? What do you want?”

“I am YOU and want to climb up!”

“AH yes and I YOU and I want to climb down, shall we meet half way?”

How clearly I miss the glorious, glorious Middle.

“The middle is where the fat is you know. Where we all get a belly laugh to share. Take my hand and be swept away in wonder!”

“Penny! Where is my salve? Oh no bother.”

Yes, take my hand and be swept away in wonder!

Worldly elegance and alliance comes in all shapes, colors, sizes, directions with indispensable ties.

HANG IN THERE! Warmly, GHR LaLaugh Productions Performer / Published Author lalaugh6@gmail.com

February 2017

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February 2017

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Friends of the Monterey Public Library Presents

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‘16 Info Hot Line: 831.646.5602 All proceeds benefit the Monterey Public Library.

Must be age 21-up to attend

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Mira, WOW!

By Daria James

Taking Back the Crown The other day I helped push an older man in a wheelchair up the street. It was pouring rain on a cold winter day in DC (very different from a cold winter day in San Diego, I tell you). We did not have umbrellas.I did not immediately post my Good Samaritan accomplishment on Facebook. No good deed goes unpunished. My good deed went unliked … also; I did not want my cellphone to get wet. Likes do not pay my bills and they do not buy new phones.

If you are not a coffee drinker, do not start! Save yourself, it is too late for me, but you can walk away from this. Started all very

January 2014

JOKES

SUBMITTED

casual and now I am an addict. I cannot function without it. I even got a French press. That is coffee paraphernalia, people! Some days I will sink so low, I go to Starbucks. I’m not proud of this.

When someone is not fond of the likes of me, I do not bother with their issues. There is obviously something wide of the mark with them because I am delightful. I have known myself longer than they have so if there were something wrong with me I would know it. Sure, some might claim I am full of myself, but I have really no argument against my confidence and self-esteem … or mirrors. Furthermore, I am sturdy supporter that if you are

FUNNY BONES

BY THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY

Over a round of golf, two local doctors were talking shop.

“I was called to the surgery center for an emergency operation the other day,” said the surgeon.

“What for?” asked his colleague.

“About $17,000.”

“What did he have?”

“Oh... About $17,000.”

February 2017 going to talk the talk you should indeed back it up with your actions to reflect said talk. Which is what I do. I also get what I want because I ask for it. #bethealpha Sure, things do not go my way every now and then. Instead of falling apart, yours truly handles herself in a diplomatic fashion.

It has not always been this way, I too was young and unafraid once, temperamental even. We must develop the skill and master from within. Dr. Strange if you wish.

The sooner we begin this process the better, really. You do not want to be a 70-year-old public figure with the temper of a 14-year-old girl. Unless of course you can afford to hire a publicist to tell you what to say after you go on a very public meltdown and attempt to justify your tantrum. Elton John is right, sorry seems to be the hardest word.

I have known myself longer than they have so if there were something wrong with me I would know it.

Every time you read something on social media and move on without adding fuel to the fire, you are actually watering the seed of tranquility. Everyone benefits that way.

Is it really worth it to fight all the battles? Someone cut you off in traffic? Drive on. You have to work the weekend? Gladly perform your duties. Someone ate the last donut in the break room?

Ok, you may get mad. Other than that, do not hold things inside.

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Q: Why did the cookie go to the hospital?

A: He felt crummy!

Q: Why were the teacher’s eyes crossed?

A: She couldn’t control her pupils!

Q: What do you call a bear with no socks on?

A: Bare-foot.

Q: What can you serve but never eat?

A: A volleyball.

Q: What kind of shoes do all spies wear?

A: Sneakers.

Q: Why did the soccer player bring string to the game?

A: So he could tie the score.

Q: Why is a baseball team similar to a muffin?

A: They both depend on the batter.

Q: What did the alien say to the garden?

A: Take me to your weeder.

Q: Why do watermelons have fancy weddings?

A: Because they cantaloupe.

Q: Have you heard the joke about the butter?

A: I better not tell you, it might spread.

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February 2017

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By Chuck Shepherd

World’s Greatest Lawyers • Attorney Lee Pearlman finally earned an acquittal in June (after two hung-jury trials) for his client Danielle Goeller—one of a seemingly increasing number of drivers who hit pedestrians but claim they were unaware of anybody being hit. Goeller, 28, a trauma-room nurse with no intoxicants in her system, had struck a 60-year-old man on a busy, heavily lighted Tampa street at 11:45 p.m., cracking her windshield—but drove on without stopping. “What does she think she hit?” asked the prosecutor.

“A deer? A bear?” Responded Pearlman, “She’s a scared girl in the middle of the night who doesn’t have the life experience other people do.”

Bright Ideas • Picturesque Torrelodones, Spain (pop. 22,000), has 6,000 pet dogs and apparently few conscientious dog owners, which town leaders say accounts for the nearly halfton of “litter” that accumulates daily. The town’s latest bright idea: installing a 7-foot-high, 10-by-10-foot brown, inflated plastic “swirly” in the center of town as a reminder to residents to pick up after their dogs. (Spain’s The Local reported in June that other towns have begun to tackle the problem as well, such as with DNA testing of dogs and streetscrubbing punishment for guilty owners.)

• British student Joshua Browder, 19, created an easy-to-use computer app to help drivers fight parking tickets they believe unjust—and now reports that users have won 160,000 cases (out of 250,000), all in London and New York City, by following his question-and-answer “chat” interface at DoNotPay.co.uk.

Browder said he was motivated to develop the app (which, as of now, is still free of charge) after himself getting about 30 tickets he says he did not deserve.

The Passing Parade • A bicycle thief was stopped on June 10 when the bike’s owner and several other people chased him from the Wal-Mart parking lot in Eagle Point, Oregon, drawing the attention of a passing rider on horseback (Robert Borba), who joined the chase and moments later (according to a report in Portland’s The Oregonian) lassoed the man and restrained him until police arrived.

• A kite surfer on a Sussex beach south of London got into trouble on June 26 and was unable to float back to land—until he was rescued by two Good Samaritans in kayaks. The saviors happened to be dressed as Batman and Robin for participating in the Shoreham Beach Superhero Paddle.

Cognitive Failure • In a May journal article, biologists from the University of Florida and Oklahoma State

University found that more than 80 percent of survey respondents want package labels on all foods that have “DNA” content (even though, yes, all meat and vegetables have DNA).

The Oklahoma researcher found earlier that about the same number want such labels to be “mandatory.” (Law professor Ilya Somin suggests playfully raising the fright level of those respondents by adding this “alarm” to the label they demand: “Warning: Pregnant women are at very high risk of passing on DNA to their children.”)

Weird Japan • Client Partners is only one of several Japanese agencies that supply rental “friends” to the lonely, for hours or days of companionship tailored to the needs of the socially challenged client (with two rules, however: “no romance,” “no lending money”). A writer for AFAR travel magazine interviewed several “friends” in June, one of whom explained: “Japan is all about face.

We don’t know how to talk from the gut. We can’t ask for help.”

Said the female “friend” (who offered a good-bye handshake to the interviewer): “There are many people who haven’t been touched for years ... who start to cry when we shake hands with them.”

But It’s Our “Policy”!

• Good Samaritan Derrick Deanda is facing a $143 bill from paramedics in Elk Grove, California, after he, passing a car crash, jumped out to pull out a man and his three children (including a 2-year-old), who were trapped in the wreckage. A short time later the paramedics arrived and, noticing that Deanda had a cut on his arm (from breaking the car’s window to free the family), bandaged him. Elk Grove has a policy charging “all patients” at a

first-responder site $143 for the “rescue,” and Deanda received his bill in June.

Least Competent Criminals • Not Ready for Prime Time: In May, a 16-year-old boy in Lakewood, Washington, not only used Facebook to set up a marijuana-dealer robbery (one of many people, lately, to incriminate themselves on social media), but during the robbery itself accidentally shot himself in the groin and femoral artery, requiring life-saving seven-hour surgery.

A News of the Weird Classic (July 2012) • Slaved Over a Hot Stove: Delivering gourmet meals to customers’ doors is a fastgrowing business model, but so far, only London’s brand-new (as of 2012) Housebites goes the extra step. According to its press release, cited by Huffington Post, Housebites not only homedelivers “restaurant quality” cuisine (at the equivalent of about $20 per entree), but offers an optional dirty-pans service (about $8 extra), lending out the containers in which the food was prepared -- thus allowing clients to trick their dinner guests into believing the client actually prepared the meal.

Copyright 2016 Chuck Shepherd; distributed by Universal UCick, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, Mo. 64106; 816-581-7500

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February 2017

19

The Salinas River, Recreational Marijuana and Roundabouts

By Rex Keyes

February is about more than just love!

Answers on pg 24

Amethyst Primrose Aquarius Pisces Februarius Little Month Third Winter Purification Februum Super Bowl Cake Roman Julius Caesar Leap Year Valentine

It is absolutely amazing all the rain we’ve had. In fact we have had enough rain to make the Salinas River surge and sweep to the sea. That is a rare occurrence over the past several years. We have also had a volunteer group that clears out some of the heavy vegetation and leaves a path in the river bottom so that it can easily flow. This group is 4-wheelers who just about weekly have fun going up and down the river in their jeeps and SUVs and partying. Without them we would have to pay millions in taxes for government agencies to keep that same vegetation clear using bulldozers. Now the salmon can freely swim up the river and spawn (lay their eggs) and increase their population. This is environmentalism at its finest.

I used to think California was ahead of the nation and the world in its progress but it is barely catching up. In Germany in the 60s they did not give away plastic bags at the grocery stores. You had to bring your own grocery bags or buy them. We just now passed a law banning plastic bags to clean up the environment. In the 70s, Alaska had a law that allowed recreational marijuana.

In the local newspaper, “The Anchorage Daily News,” there was a section for police reports in which people also reported marijuana plants stolen from their gardens. Marijuana was placed in the same classification as alcohol; no drinking and driving and no smoking pot and driving. One could also not drink alcoholic beverages in public nor smoke pot in public.

Now everyone is wondering about legalizing pot in California.

All they have to do is look back to Alaska in the 70s and copy what they did about their laws.

Since the State of California will be heavily taxing marijuana, and tourists will be buying it up like crazy, maybe, just maybe, with all that extra tax income, California politicians, to help their citizens, will cut back on our property taxes, sales taxes or income taxes!!! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!!!

If you get on a roundabout and get confused, just keep on going around the circle ’til you figure out how and which street to exit.

The next item the State is catching up on is putting roundabouts at some intersections to help traffic flow. We had, I believe, the only roundabout in the state decades ago in Orange County on Pacific Coast Highway.

We are now just installing one on Highway 68 to prevent traffic jams as one comes off Highway One by the hospital. If you get on a roundabout and get confused, just keep on going around the circle ’til you figure out how and which street to exit. That worked for me when I was in England as over there some of the roundabouts were huge, with the added confusion factor that they drive on the opposite side of the street.

Have a Happy Valentine’s Day and don’t forget the box of chocolates and the old-fashioned Valentine card!!!

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February 2017

ET, Clone Home

By Rosie Sorenson Cloning an extinct species seems to be the new Chia Pet among scientists these days: I want to bring back a woolly mammoth!

I want to bring back a dinosaur!

I want to do a Neanderthal!

Everyone wants to hop on this weird bandwagon called “deextinction.”

I’ve got my reservations. To the South Korean scientist hell-bent on cloning a woolly mammoth, using genetic material extracted from thousands-of-years-old remains found in Siberia, I say, “Dude! Just Because You Can Do Something, Doesn’t Mean You Should.” This is similar to how I feel about the teen boys I encounter in the mall: “Hey! Just

because you can belt your pants below your butt, doesn’t mean you should.”

And I doubt the scientist thought ahead to the time when the wooly kid goes off to school.

The South Korean scientist plans to implant DNA from the extinct mammoth into an elephant egg cell to create a new embryo which he will then implant into a female Indian elephant. Someone should urge

him to think this through more carefully.

Can you imagine the elephant mother’s reaction when she first sees her newborn? What the hell happened here? You don’t look like me, you don’t look like your Daddy. What’s he gonna think when he sees you? How am I going to convince him I haven’t been fooling around?

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Charles, I did not have relations with that . . . ,” she cries.

“I want to believe you, Mabel, but look at him. Aint’ no kin of mine!”

And I doubt the scientist thought ahead to the time when the wooly kid goes off to school.

Who would he pal around with? I can picture the scene: the lonely youngster on the playground, wanting to fit in but being rebuffed by the alpha elephant.

“Dude! You’re not from around here, are you? What’s up with those curly tusks? In this town, man, we wear ‘em straight. And, has anyone ever said you need a haircut? Nothing personal, dude, but you don’t make no sense.

Who’s your Daddy?”

www.foolishtimes.net Maybe this is all part of a clever South Korean plan. Maybe they want to stop the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-un, in his nuclear tracks by releasing thousands of woolly mammoths to swarm over the border. That would scare the bejesus out of him.

“Okay, man, I’ll put down my nukes―just get those things away from me,” he would cry. Now, to the scientist who wants to clone the Neanderthal, I have this to say: we don’t need no more stinkin’ knuckle-draggin’ beasts stalking around on our planet. We have too many already. And not just in Washington, DC. But, hey, as long as we’re tinkering with DNA, here’s some stuff I wouldn’t mind seeing cloned: Elvis, in his younger, leaner days.

Moderate Republicans. Now, more than ever.

Abraham Lincoln. See above.

The Dodo bird. Just because.

The Edsel. For the Dodo bird to ride around in.

Walter Cronkite. Now, more than ever.

Michael Jackson. When he was still black.

John Lennon. Because, John.

Me. At 20. Well, why not?

Come on, people, let’s get crackin’!

Two antennae met on a roof, fell in love and got married. Their wedding ceremony wasn’t fancy. The reception, however, was excellent.

www.foolishtimes.net

HOME BREW

by Zachary Jack Lately I’ve been thinking (sort, kinda, maybe not really) of starting up my own Monterey microbrew. What could be more perfectly Peninsulan, after all, than a hobby business operated under a fictitious name involving the fermenting of an alcoholic beverage? Trouble is, I’m long on ideas but short on names.

These days, coming up with the biggest, baddest, puniest names can be a matter of marketing life and death. And in a crowded marketplace, if a master brewer is truly serious about putting the “local” in “craft and local,” the names of my home brews would have to stand out from the rest of the darkly punny crowd of competitors as appropriately gagworthy.

You see the more disgusting, off-putting, or just plain oddball the label the better the sales, or so it would seem. Last year was rife with deliciously awful beer names ranging from the decidedly off-putting Old Chub Scotch Ale to Yellow Snow IPA to something alarmingly called Soft Dookie (Who among us would dare order a stool sample?)

Next come the beers named after annoying animals and vexsom vermin—in that silo surely belong Belligerent Ass IPA, Moose Knuckle Winter Stout and Rat Tail Ale. Add to these the various and sundry fermentations named after prodigious body art and body parts. (Consider the etymological anatomy of names like Tramp Stamp India Pale Ale or the infamous Big Cock IPA.) In the appropriately awful, awfully appropriate name department, California is surely

no slouch, boasting the double entendre-endowed Hoppy Ending by the Palo Alto Brew Company, and other memorable concoctions ranging from Donkey Punch to Chocolate Rain to Parking Violation. Apparently down and dirty beer label names are to 2017 what darkly sexy rock band names were to the 1980s…a necessary evil, or, to put a pun on it, a Cheap Trick.

Would a Cougar brew satisfy the hungry mountain lions in Carmel Valley, or the no less insatiable middle-aged variety stalking Coach handbags on Ocean Ave? So what, I ask myself, should the name of my would-be Monterey Peninsula brew be?

(Sorry Carmel, Alimony Ale is already taken.)

Should the inimitable creations of my insular Peninsular microbrew be a left-handed Left Coast political statement against the Trump Administration—the San Fran Sanctuary City Pale Ale, say, or the Eric Holder Hops?

Should they instead celebrate the name of some of my favorite beerloving Monterey County towns— the Gilroy Garlic Gargle Gueuze or the Spreckels Freckled Blonde Ale? Will the latest punny naming

February 2017 trends mingle with our venerable area institutions of higher learning to produce the Navy Seal Ale in honor of the Naval Postgraduate School, or will MPCC break rank and produce the letter-heavy MPCC IPA, with all proceeds donated to orphaned acronyms. And if NPS deserves their own honorific brew, isn’t Fort Ord’s own celebrity exserviceman entitled to his? What self-respecting groupie or golfer wouldn’t line up to take a long pull on a Dirty Harry Dirty Blonde chased by an Alimony Ale? And let us not forget the needs and wants of our deep sea-loving friends plying the watery depths below the Monterey Marine Sanctuary. Could the Aquarium market a wickedly viscous brew with some serious tooth under the name Shark Bite? Could our home brew elude instead to a local controversy with a special edition like the Marina DeSal Salt Malt or the Steelhead Trout Rules Benefit

21

Brew? What local watering hole wouldn’t bark at the chance to sling a Seal Rock Guano Bock?

Would a Cougar brew satisfy the hungry mountain lions in Carmel Valley, or the no less insatiable middle-aged variety stalking Coach handbags on Ocean Ave? And least we forget the timehonored tradition of naming a kickin’ local swill with a lightly saucy name, shouldn’t we at least consider naming our Monterey vintage the Sh*t cannery.

Thankfully, I’ve got plenty of time in the wet and wooly winter ahead to run focus groups, sip plenty of market samples, and otherwise try the wares of all potential local competitors. While the Bay Area TV weathermen rush to outdo themselves with superlatives sufficient to describe the latest coastal frog-drencher, I’ll be drowning under an atmospheric river better known as the Pineapple Express.

Two men ran out to the Monterey Pines for a quick nine after work.

They get to the tee and see two ladies playing ahead of them.

One of the men complains that the ladies will slow them down and says he is going to ask if they can play through. He goes halfway to the ladies and turns back.

The other man asked what was wrong. The man said, “I can’t go up there that’s my wife and my mistress.”

So the other man says he will go. He goes halfway and comes back. His partner asked what happened and the man replied, “Small world, huh?”

Tony & Sara are the owners and your hosts at the Crown & Anchor. Come in and be warmed by their hospitality and humor

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February 2017

Things that Go Bang

By Ted Gargiulo Is it my imagination, or does there seem to be a upsurge of vehicles crashing into buildings late-ly?

Almost every day we read or hear about a car jumping the curb and plowing through a store window.

Or tearing through a gated yard and winding up in someone’s living room. Picture those poor innocent folks sitting at home, watching television, minding their own business, thinking they’re safe—when out of the blue, a CAR (of all things!) busts through their wall and wreaks havoc on their peaceful abode. Dang! One can only hope that the residents were away at the time.

Who among us ever imagines, when we step into our personal dream machines, headed for the office, the mall, or our kid’s soccer game, that we’ll end up in a stranger’s living room?

Who among us ever imagines, when we step into our personal dream machines, headed for the office, the mall, or our kid’s soccer game, that we’ll end up in a stranger’s living room, broken and bleeding, trapped inside our own crumpled vehicles, forced to watch reruns of the Beverly Hillbillies?

Or worse, Gilligan’s Island! Is that ever weird!

What was the driver thinking anyway? That’s what I want to know. Or was he thinking at all?

Surely, there must have been something he could have done to avoid this horrific, humiliating blunder. Maybe he was busy texting at the time. Not smart! Or playing Solitaire on his tab-let. Or applying makeup in his (or her) visor mirror. Of course, it’s also possible that said opera-tor simply passed out. To be fair, I should point out that not every motorist is necessarily dis-tracted, inebriated, or subconsciously suicidal. Such things as passing out have been known to happen.

A friend of mine, for instance, lost consciousness while driving through Monterey. One moment he was cruising down Del Monte Avenue: sober, carefree, in command of his faculties. Next thing he knew, he was at the bottom of a steep embankment on Canyon del Rey with no memory of how he got there. His car was totaled, but he himself escaped serious injury. Chilling, huh!

Thankfully, he didn’t wake up in the ER. Or dead. Or in front of somebody’s television!

Point is, certain types of disasters seem to happen in clusters. Cars slamming into buildings is merely the latest trend. Not that train wrecks, oil spills or falling planes have slipped in the rat-ings, mind you. People lose control of a myriad of things for a myriad of reasons. Accidents are universal.

If there were one common, underlying factor, it would be that personal control is largely an illusion—one which some malevolent, supernatural force

delights in shattering. This “Angel of Mischief,” if you will, sits on his perch in the heavens (I imagine), watching zillions of us self-important, stressed out little entities in the world below rushing about, making plans, dreaming big dreams. Every so often, for amusement, he reaches down, sticks his finger into the porridge of humanity, whips it around and around…and watches us go bing-bang-boing into objects, and into each other, like pinballs. “WHEEEE!” It’s all one colossal board game to him.

But seriously, people…life is precarious, unpredictable, riddled with sinkholes, loopholes, ass-

FEBRUARY 3RD

@ 7PM

www.foolishtimes.net holes, and booby traps lurking inside every nook and cranny of our frail, tentative existence. All you drivers out there, whoever you are, I appeal to you: WAKE UP! Pay attention! Watch where you’re going! And please, whatever you do…steer clear of my house!

What do you call a very small valentine?

A valentiny.

SeasideAutoDealers.com

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THE ANSWER IS…the arts!

Local Mural Commemorates Ft. Ord History

In the heat of difficult times, a bit of art can lift the spirit. And that was exactly the purpose of a massive, colorful mural unveiled in Marina late last year.

The mural, on the Honor Deck Plaza of Martinez Hall, commemorates the history of Fort Ord and the contributions of past and present service members.

Unlike many commemorative military works, what makes the Martinez Hall mural especially personal is that its centerpiece is comprised of a series of wooden tiles created by homeless veterans who are actively improving their lives through the Veterans

Transition Center of Monterey County, better known as VTC. The VTC currently occupies Martinez Hall, which is named after Private 1st Class Joseph P. Martinez, who was the first Latino service member and the first member of the 7th Infantry Division, to be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his service during World War II. The building was once the Fort Ord Welcome Center, until Fort Ord was decommissioned in 1993.

To complete the mural, participating veterans translated their reflections about their own military experience to visual imagery for the wall tiles, according to Ellen Berrahmoun, arts education director for the Arts Council for Monterey County.

The vets attended weekly art

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classes under the direction of Linda Pedrazzini Hevern, along with lead muralists John Elliott and Elgene Tumacder.

“The art class has helped destress certain veterans,” said Tumacder, “and has definitely opened up conversation and stories about their military history. The class and art have been an ongoing healing, therapeutic and positive influence for the veterans at the VTC.” The mural includes military symbols that merge with the Fort Ord landscape and a visual tribute to Martinez.

The project was joint effort between the VTC, the Visual and Public Art Department at neighboring California State University, Monterey Bay, and the Arts Council for Monterey County.

For representatives of the Arts Council, the hands-on approach in creating the mural represented the type of “arts-in-healing” approach the council supports.

The effort was especially personal for Elliott, who is not only a graduate of the university’s Visual and Public Art Department but is a 12-year veteran of the U.S. Navy.

Also participating were Mercedes Maciel and Emma Heady, interns from CSUMB, and project consultant and VPA Professor Johanna Poethig, an acclaimed muralist in her own right. Funding for the mural project came from the California Arts Council.

According to Berrahmoun, the mural provides a “vibrant backdrop” for the Honor Deck, a plaza-like space that will eventually feature commemorative engraved bricks and opportunities for donors to support the VTC. The VTC provides housing

February 2017

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and a range of services for atrisk veterans and their families throughout the Central Coast.

The mission of the Arts Council is to improve the quality of life for everyone through the arts by providing financial support, programs and other resources.

Berrahmoun said the Arts Council expects to continue working with the agency to provide additional therapeutic programs.

The council is also initiated an arts-in-healing program to incarcerated youth, which is also coordinated by Hevern. In that program, juveniles gain skills in drawing, painting and design while learning to reduce anxiety, to communicate and to work with others.

The Arts Council has also awarded a grant to the Natividad Medical Foundation for its healing arts program at the countyoperated Natividad Medical Center in Salinas.

In a 2012 report by Americans for the Arts, the goal of introducing the arts into health and healthcare is to “provide quality, cost-effective services that achieve positive outcomes for patients, families and caregivers.”

It adds that the arts can “reduce patients’ level of depression and situational anxiety, contribute to patient satisfaction, and improve the medical providers’ recruitment and retention rates.”

For more information about the Arts Council and its programs, call 622-9060.

Do you love me because I am beautiful or am I beautiful because you love me?

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February 2017

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Foolish Search

What’s that hotty reading?

Answers

Answers

from page 10

from page 19

Don’t Sit Around with Nothing to Read Yearly Subscription $39 Call or Click 831.648.1038 office@foolishtimes.net

Guide to Local Businesses & Services TRANSPORTATION

HANDYMAN

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Electrical, carpentry, plumbing painting, auto and computers systems.

I am truly a handy man!

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SCREENS Real Screens

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February 2017

This month … live, love, laugh … but mostly LAUGH!

Making the Grade My high-school English teacher was well known for being a fair, but hard, grader. One day I received a B minus on a theme paper. In hopes of bettering my grade and in the spirit of the valentine season, I sent her an extravagant heart-shaped box of chocolates with the pre-printed inscription: “BE MINE.” The following day, I received in return a valentine from the teacher. It read: “Thank you, but it’s still BE MINE-US.”

Mower Than a Greeting Card My friend Mark and I work in a lawn-mower-parts warehouse.

Somehow Mark got the idea that his wife did not want a card on Valentine’s Day, but when he spoke to her on the phone he discovered she was expecting one. Not having time to buy a card on his way home, Mark was in a quandary. Then he looked at the lawn-mower trade magazines scattered around the office—and got an idea.

Using scissors and glue, he created a card with pictures of mowers, next to which he wrote: “I lawn for you mower and mower each day.”

While pondering what sweet endearment to write on the card, he obviously began thinking of the many hours of work still ahead of him.

His note read: “Roses are red, violets are blue. If I weren’t thinking of you, I’d probably be through.”

Sweet Nothings My boyfriend Hans and I met online. After dating a long time, I introduced him to my uncle, who was fascinated by the fact that we met over the Internet. He asked Hans what kind of line he had used to pick me up.

Ever the geek, Hans naively replied, “I just used a modem.”

A Little Nuts About Love Driving through Southern California, I stopped at a roadside stand that sold fruit, vegetables and crafts. As I went to pay, I noticed the young woman behind the counter was painting a sign.

“Why the new sign?” I asked.

“My boyfriend didn’t approve of the old one,” she said.

When I glanced at what hung above the counter, I understood.

It declared: “Local Honey Dates Nuts.”

9 to 5 Love My husband, a certified public accountant, works 15-hour days for the first few months of the year. In spite of his hectic schedule, he took time out to order me flowers for Valentine’s Day.

I’ll always love you tacos. I’ll always love TACOS.

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February 2017

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February 3

February 23

Two Wheels to Freedom A film created by local Daniel Troia featuring his six county journey through Europe. Come be dazzled by what touring on a bike really looks and sounds like.

Free to attend with free popcorn.

7pm Lighthouse Theater, PG

Meet the Author

February 6-12

AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-AM

February 5

If you live here, you know all about it. The question is, have you been to the event?

Celebrities play with the pros in a slower than usual golf format.

Will there be a Tiger sighting? www.attpbgolf.com

Super Bowl Sunday

February 9

February 6

Maddox hosts a party promoting love while basking in our strengths and diversity.

Dress in pink to impress.

Cibo’s is the place.

Is it a game or an event? Who cares. It’s another reason for a party. This year (yawn) the Patriots play the Falcons.

National Chopsticks Day

For 25% of the world, chopsticks are the eating utensil of choice and have been used for over 5000 years.

Blush 4

Valentine’s Day

February 24

February 15

Who doesn’t love Bingo? Who doesn’t love education?

Dinner, silent auction, raffle and other assorted family friendly fun activities. Fun to yell Bingo. www.mbayedu.org

Teachers receive the most Valentines’ cards, followed by children, moms, wives and sweethearts.

Where do guys rank?

Shaolin Warriors

These are not just performers, they are Kung Fu masters with remarkable skills and athleticism that will blow you away. www.sunsetcenter.org

Bingo Night

February 25

Steinbeck Birthday Celebration

Cake, interactive kid’s events, readings, more cake, singing and dissecting a squid highlight this free day. www.steinbeck.org

February 11

Beer, Wine & Valentine Event to support services for families living with MS & Parkinson’s www.msqlp.org

February 6

Happy 89th Birthday Larry Wilde The Ambassador of American Humor. A standup comedian, television and stage actor, motivational speaker and author of over 53 books. We enjoyed the time you spent with us at Foolish Times. www.larrywilde.com

February 14

Cornelia Read’s new novel “Valley of Ashes” moves away from her first three thrillers with more focus on emotional turmoil and struggle. www.pglibfriends.org

February 16

Brian Regan

Touring nonstop has not diminished his goofy clean act that is worth seeing again and again. www.goldenstatetheatre.com

February 17 February 12

Abe Lincoln’s Birthday

This guy was alright. He lost five separate elections before being elected president. We all know what happened next.

Chocolate & Wine Tasting

Yes they will allow you to attend this great event even if you have an overdue book. Enjoy great wine, lots of chocolate, beer and food in the Library. www.mplfriends.com

February 28

Fat Tuesday

Also known as Mardi Gras Day or Shrive Day. A day to get it all out of your system before Ash Wednesday and 40 days of giving up something you enjoy.

February 2017

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KNOCK OFF it

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Goliath.

Goliath who?

Goliath down, you look-eth tired!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Broccoli?

Broccoli who?

Broccoli doesn’t have a last name, silly.

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Wooden shoe.

Wooden shoe who?

Wooden shoe like to hear another joke?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Amish.

Amish who?

Really?

You don’t look like a shoe!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Boo. Boo hoo?

Why are you crying?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Atch.

Atch who?

Bless you!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Harry.

Harry who?

Harry up and answer the door!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Lettuce.

Lettuce who?

Lettuce in, it’s cold out here!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Cash.

Cash who?

No thanks, but I’ll take a peanut if you have one!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

I am.

I am who?

You don’t know who you are?

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Big interrupting cow.

Big interrupting cow who?

MOOOOOOO!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Canoe.

Canoe who?

Canoe come out and play with me?

27

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Ice cream.

Ice cream who?

Ice cream if you don’t let me in!

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Yah. Yah who?

No, I prefer google.

Where are the voices coming from?

If you score: 0-1 Move out of Amish country 2-4 Put that book down 5-7 Your folks popped for cable 8-10 Move back from the TV

1. Walt Disney

A. Shrek

2. Mel Blanc

B. Meg Griffin

3. Meg Ryan

C. Mickey Mouse

4. Fergie

D. Shaggy

5. Trey Parker

E. Maggie Simpson

6. Kristen Bell

F. Sally Brown

7. Casey Kasem

G. Eric Cartman

8. Mike Myers

H. Anastasia

9. Mila Kunis

I. Bugs Bunny

10. Elizabeth Taylor

J. Anna

Key: 1(C) 2(H) 3(I) 4(F) 5(G) 6(J) 7(D) 8(A) 9(B) 10(E)

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