The Gift Of The Scratchi

Once upon a time, in a little village, just south southwest of Santa’s Workshop, in the North Pole, there lived an older couple. This couple was each on their third marriage, although that doesn’t have anything to do with anything…I’m just making conversation. Now the couple didn’t have much money. The husband had started a potato washing business that wasn’t as profitable as it was expected to be, and the wife hadn’t been to work since she was diagnosed with elephantiasis in her left leg. Needless to say, Christmas was around the corner and the couple had no money to buy each other presents.

The husband thought, “Well it’s Christmas…I have to get my wife something!”

So he decided to rummage through the couch cushions and look for loose coins. He looked and looked and looked, and finally found 22 pennies, 3 nickels, one of them minted in the year 1978…which really didn’t have anything to do with anything…just making an observation…2 dimes, and 2 quarters for a grand total of $1.07.  The husband looked at the coins in his hand and sighed. What could he possibly buy with this? A pack of gum? A toothbrush?

Meanwhile in another part of the house, the wife was looking under their bedroom mattress. All year she would stash a dollar here and a dollar there as a little nest egg for Christmas. The problem was that all year she would also borrow a dollar here and a dollar there with the intention of paying it back, yet she never would. Currently all that resided in the mattress Christmas nest was one dollar.  A single tear rolled down her cheek as she got a paper cut on the tip of her finger from grabbing that one little dollar bill.

“What can I do with this?” thought the wife. “Buy a pack of playing cards? A plastic kazoo? A band aid?”

Both the husband and the wife both felt a little dejected, a little depressed, and a little tipsy because both of them were drunks…nothing to do with this particular story, just throwing it out there for discussion.

The husband grabbed his coat and called to his wife that he was going for a walk.

“OK!” she called back. There was little chance she would join him due to her left leg being the size of a VW Bus thanks to the elephantiasis, so the husband had a few moments to himself to think.

So he did.

He thought and he walked, and walked and thought, until he stopped in front of a convenience store. He stood there for a moment as his breath billowed in front of his face from the cold brisk air. He could see the worry lines on his forehead mirrored in the window of the store. He could also see the beer case, because as explained earlier, he was a raging drunk. And lastly he could see the counter where the lottery tickets were advertised. In his pocket, his hand clasped on the coins and he headed into the store.

Come that Christmas morn as the husband and the wife gathered in front of their Christmas tree which made Charlie Brown’s look like a lush Evergreen, he took her hand, and patted her enormous leg and whispered,

“I love you. Merry Christmas.”

He pulled out the  scratch off lottery ticket he bought with the change and handed it to her. He also handed her one of the left over pennies that he didn’t spend. This was so she could rub off that mystery silver cover that hides the winning numbers from the naked eye.

She smiled, and rub the penny back and forth over the ticket, slowly and with determination, all the while biting her lower lip. She turned the ticket to her husband when she was done, and said,

“We won.”

“What?” asked the husband gasping for breath. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said with the biggest grin. “We won a free lottery ticket.”

“Merry Christmas,” said the husband.

Merry Christmas,” replied his wife and slipped the dollar she had found into his pants pocket.

This doesn’t really pertain to the story, but later they got snockered on eggnog…you know…just throwing it out there…for conversations sake…

Merry Christmas to all.

When You’re Sick Of Holiday Movies…

Have you had your fill of Rankin and Bass’ stop motion holiday classic; Rudolph the Frosty Grinch?

How many times have you watched It’s A Wonderful Miracle on 34th Griswald Lane?

Can’t stomach another viewing of “You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out Charlie Brown!”?

Well, I’m here to help. Here is a list of slightly non-Christmas-y that you can watch with the whole family.

(Warning: Don’t watch any of these with the whole family.)

Rubber

 Rubber is the charming story of Robert, an abondoned tire that has been left in the desert and then suddenly and inexplicably comes to life. As Robert  rolls around, he soon discovers that he possesses terrifying telepathic powers that give him the ability to destroy anything he wishes.

`

Zombie Ass: Toilet Of The Dead

 Megumi wrestles with the guilt of her bullied sister’s suicide while joining her friends on a journey deep into the woods, where they encounter the nefarious Dr. Tanaka, who conducts gruesome experiments on the living dead. Later, as Dr. Tanaka attempts to make Megumi and friends his latest test subjects, the desperate young woman uses the dual power of karate and flatulence in order to defeat her demented captor.

Nude Nuns With Big Guns

 Sister Sarah is abused, brainwashed and drugged into submission by a corrupt clergy who is in the business of selling drugs. On the verge of death, Sister Sarah receives a message from GOD telling her to take vengeance on all those who did her wrong. Armed with God’s will and an arsenal of big guns and little clothing, she seeks revenge on her former tormentors.

Grabbers

Strange doings are afoot on a small Irish island: the crew of a fishing boat disappears, whales start appearing dead on the shore, a local lobster-man catches a strange tentacled creature in his trap. Soon residents learn they must get very drunk to survive attacks by alien monsters who can’t tolerate a high blood alcohol level in their victims.

(Remember: I didn’t say any of these were good.)

Six Christmas Reindeer that Didn’t Make the Delivery Team

This is a piece that was written by my fellow Pauser, Chowderhead and myself…well to be honest it was about 90% Chowderhead and 10% myself.

The task of expediting billions of presents to mouthy brats around the globe in one night is a heaping pile of responsibility – one that requires a sharp, sober team of hoofed navigators to help carry it out. There’s only room for one drunken deviant on the parcel delivery team, and that’s Santa Claus; a morbidly obese shut-in operating under the delusion that wearing a belt and boots with red pajamas is more than a just a kinky homage to Hugh Hefner, it’s a fashion statement.

Assembling a dashing team of sleigh navigators has historically been no simple task – one that requires a formal tryout, which annually results in reject letters being handed out to dozens of four-legged, horn bearing hopefuls. Remember all those Reindeer games? These caribou take it seriously and have been training all their lives!

Now I know you’re familiar with Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, and that freak, Rudolph; but according to some loose media source there were 6 previously unknown potentials that narrowly made the cut.

(To be honest, they weren’t even close to making the cut.)

Flasher

Official scouting report notes indicated that this obscene creature couldn’t keep his reindeer gear tucked between his furry little thighs during the tryouts. A lewd compulsion to flash his candy cane and holly berries in front of festive front room windows not only kept him off the team, but also nearly landed him a two year stay on the pet offenders list.

Dahmer

Initially, his calm demeanor and ability to take orders earned him a spot on the flight crew team. However, his membership status was revoked shortly after scouts discovered his hidden cannibalistic tendencies. He didn’t last too long at tryout camp, and neither did his stable mate, Meaty.

Square Dancer

It was determined that this uncoordinated mess of a creature might potentially blow the cover so to speak. During the trial package drop, Square Dancer attempted to Doe See Doe with Flasher, producing unacceptable decibel levels up on the roof tops.

Grab your partner don’t be shy,

Eat some magic corn, then you’ll fly

Land on the roofop, dosey doe

Santa is in the house,

your ass is standing in the snow

 

Nixon

A soft spoken and charismatic leader-type at first glance. However, walking papers were issued after one scouting team official candidly discovered him editing Christmas Lists and the official package delivery route. The incident was later coined, KringleGate. For the full story, you can watch the movie, All The Reindeer’s Men starring The Elf that Wanted to be a Dentist and the cast of The Island of Misfit Toys.

Vomit

Suffers from motion sickness. Also didn’t look good for any publicity photo shoots, for Vomit always had about six air sickness bags hanging off of him…just in case.

Stupid

His offenses are too long to list. Fellow trial mates frequently complained of inappropriate blinker usage during practice flights, and Stupid fell of a roof during one trial run while attempting a chimney handstand. The incident resulted in a broken femur, insurance settlement dispute that has been ongoing since its occurrence. Officials would not release any further details or names of the scouts associated with Stupid’s official invitation, but it’s been rumored that Stupid maybe in the new Jackass movie.

Blitzed’n

This deer liked his beer, which affected his steer. His also liked his vodka, just like his poppa. You would usually find him in passed out in the gutter, with a hooker nicknamed, Nutter Butter.

Since we are talking alternative reindeer, did you know that when Rudolph throws a hissy fit because he is such a big celebrity, (sometimes they do that) that his cousin from Germany, Christoph sometimes fill in?

True fact.

The Story of the First Black Friday

Many, many years ago the Pilgrims sailed across the ocean surviving cramped conditions, disease, and weather.

After almost turning around twice since Google maps was lacking the proper updates, they finally reached the New World when Mrs. Jones made Captain Jones ask for directions from some sea Sirens.

But things were not any better once they landed upon the shore. They endured even more hardships: food was scarce, the winters were hard, the wifi signal sucked, and no HBO.

One day, as chance would happen, a native of the land was sent out by his wife to pick up a six pack of deer skin, when he happened upon the dying settlement. Seeing a need to help these people, and knowing his wife was going to be out all afternoon with her friends down at the river gossiping about the new shorten hem lines of the latest buffalo skin dresses of 1621, he decided to school these white devils.

The name of that Native American was Squantoski. He had learned to speak English from an illegal obtained copy of Rosetta Rock. Little know fact, it was later renamed Rosetta Stone as the program became more streamlined.

Squantoski made the mistake of introducing himself to the Pilgrim Vinny first. Vinny had the bad habit of giving everyone nicknames, and dubbed Squantoski as Squid Lips. Squid Lips did not take a liking to this nickname at all and threatened to scalp Vinny if he didn’t come up with something cooler, and thus was introduced to the rest of the village as Squanto.

Squanto taught the village how to fish, build better shelters, plant maize, and build hedge mazes.

The Pilgrims were so grateful that they invited Squanto and his posse over for a big feast of turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole with those crunchy fried onions on top, canned cranberries, and small pox.

The Pilgrims thought this to be a big success, and decided to hold this dinner every year there after. The Native Americans agreed, until they started dying off from the small pox. Those that survived plotted revenge.

They thought and schemed all year and came up with a four fold plan.

Step One: Introduce the game of football. This would distract the men folk from helping to prepare the Thanksgiving meal and making the woman angry and resentful.

Step Two: Come up with the concept of Black Friday where the village merchants would hold incredible sales deals the day after Thanksgiving. The woman would go crazy over the opportunity to save money and also be sleep deprived as they stayed up all night running from store to store, and deal to deal in order to get the biggest bang for their wampum*.

Step Three: Have a plan in place so by the year 2020 Black Friday would actually start at 9:00 am on Thanksgiving Day. This would cause division and fights in families as to whether or not to shop, watch football, or eat turkey.

Step Four: As the white man slowly destroys itself every Thanksgiving Day, the Native Americans retake their land with all the casino money they have acquired over the years.

Happy Black Friday everyone!

*wampum is the currency of the pilgrim.

Ode To My 64 Box Of Crayons

Oh there is Maroon, Antique Brass, Plum,

And Aquamarnie,

Asparagus, Yellow,

And Atomic Tangerine,

Who can’t live without Beaver, Bittersweet, Black,

And Blizzard Blue?

Or Blue Bell, Blue Grey, Blue Green, Blue Violet,

In fact Blues of every hue?

It’s better to Blush than be Brick Red,

As also to be Brown, than Burnt Orange,

But to be Burnt Sienna is something to be said.

Cadet Blue is pretty,

While Inchworm is silly.

Caribbean Green, Carnation Pink, Cerulean, or Cerise,

If it had one, would be the color of the breeze.

Chestnut and Copper,

Are understated colors,

While Cornflower, Cotton Candy, and Dandelion,

Stand out amongst the others.

If the world was colored Denim, Red, or Eggplant,

Then Scarlet, Magenta, and Forest Green

Would be jealous of that.

Fuchsia is to Purple,

As Gold is to Goldenrod,

However Fuzzy Wuzzy is not to Midnight Blue,

Those colors are too cool.

Grey and Green like Vivid Tangerine,

While Mango Tango hates Magenta,

If you ask

Tan and Pink,

They are always ones to think,

That nothing rhymes with Orange.

Several Really Short Stupid Poems

Title: Sure, But I’m Not Dancing With Your Uncle That Was Just Released From Prison

—–

Title: Stoners Can Be Dicks

Hickory Dickory Dock

The Mouse Smoked All The Pot

The Cheetos Are Gone

Isn’t That Such A Crock?

—–

Title: Pigs Are Smarter According To Whom

—–

Title: Your Gym Membership’s First Month Is Free When You Sign Up Today

Some Guys Have A Six Pack

Some Have Four

I Have A Twenty Four Pack

Resting In

The Refrigerator Door

—–

Title: A Democracy Is Better Than An Omniscient God

—–

Title: Why Is Affordable Health Care So Un-affordable?

I Scratch And I Scribble

This Poem That Is Nothing But Dribble

—–

Title: Ode To Short Celebrities

Your Elevated Shoes

Do Nothing For Your Douchey Views

—–

Title: Women Logic

—–

Those Insensitive Children’s Games We Played

Play time is different for kid’s nowadays. Gone are the times when your parents would kick you out of the house armed with only a ball and your bike, and you wouldn’t see each other until dinner.

Friday was meatloaf night, I was always late on Friday night.

Imagination and pick-up games ruled the neighborhood. Everyone would meet at the “spot.” And the “spot” was different per social class child gang.  Our “spot” was a cleared out field that was going to be developed into houses as soon as the plots of land were bought. In the background stood the forest which was only  a few hundred feet of uncleared woods, but at 10 years old, perfect for building a tree fort or going hiking without any fear of getting lost forever like Hansel and Gretel…the Brothers Grimm version, not the weird movie remake.

Two other important differences from the way children play today.

One:

There was a clear cut winner, whether it was an individual or team sport. Not everyone had an equal chance of winning. It did depend on your skill. If you swung and missed the ball three times with your bat, you sat down, you were out. You didn’t keep swinging until you eventually hit the ball. Often if you were the kid that sucked at baseball, you were the kid that was King of dangerous homemade bike ramp jumping.

Two:

For better or for worse the names of the games were not always politically correct. No one seemed to notice or care. Two prime examples from my childhood was: Smear the Queer and Black Man’s Tag.

If you are unfamiliar with the game Smear The Queer, the rules are simple. Throw the ball in the air and whoever catches has to run without being tackled. This could be played with any number of kids from 2 to 200. There is no designated place to run to, you just keep going until A) you’re tired or B) you’re tackled. If you get tackled then you throw the ball in the air and it starts all over again.

The great thing about this game: no thinking required. A helmet should have been required, it wasn’t, but definitely thinking went out the door. Your caveman instinct of survival kicked in and you just ran and ran until your friends piled on top of you like fat kids on the last Klondike bar.

For most, the offensive word in this game is Queer.  But I think the scarier word is actually; Smear. Think about how you would Smear something. Now think about violently Smearing something…or someone. Queer could be derogatory or empowering depending on how you say it. (Think Queer Eye For The Straight Guy) However, Smearing is Smearing, and there is no coming back from a proper Smearing whether your finger painting or recreating a Slasher movie.

In Black Man’s Tag the basic concept was that one person was “It”, and would tag the other players who were running back and forth between two safe zones. If you got tagged, you would join the “It” person and help them tag people until their was only one left, which was usually my friend Gilbert. He was damn fast. He was German. I don’t know if that is what made him so fast, but I think Germans played around with genetic enhancing during Word War II.

He may have been a by product of that.

We played this in the school’s parking lot with each end of it being the safe zones. You could not be tagged in the safe zone. If only big cities worked this way too.

A Simple graph for visualization.

I don’t know why it was called Black Man’s tag. Never really thought about the name until I became an adult. I had Black friends who played it. They never said anything about the name either.

“Hey, why does it have to be Black Man’s tag, why can’t it be Island Pacificer Tag? Or Spanish-American-Croatian Tag? Huh? Racist!”

The names of both of these games could admittedly have been chosen better. Maybe Black Man’s Tag could have been renamed Zombie Tag and Smear The Queer could have been renamed Rugby.

But as a kid it didn’t matter what the name of the game was, we just wanted to play.

Good job Gilbert, you genetically enhanced bastard. Good job.

Breaking Bad As Written By Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a Sunday night, while I pondered channel surfing,
Over football, reruns, and 60 Minutes, Oh bore
In my seat, I nodded, nearly pondered a Tosh repeat
What was the answer, but a teacher dying of cancer
‘Tis can’t be entertaining,’ I muttered, ‘I will watch this one episode and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I was engrossed, this coward teacher host,
And his brother-in-law the DEA jerk
Whom he rode along on the meth bust, an undiscovered perk
Which sparked the idea for an empire desire
The angels name Jessie to help
Heisenberg here for evermore

At first the RV housed the cook
Tighty-whitey in the dessert, was the hook
It’s the purest of the pure, moving one rock at a time
Was not enough to pay the tough bill that the doctor’s inflict
On Heisenberg and nothing more

A finger lickin’ chicken came a knockin’
Knockin’ knockin on He Who Knocks Door
The money was flowing, as the meth was growing
Blue was the signature hue, that built the family vault
But only Flynn knew not the truth, his cereal spoon of youth
And Gus was in charge evermore

Until one fateful day, Gus was blown away
And Walt and Jessie fought, retiring to the car wash that he bought
Soon Mike was led astray, his men would get no pay
Cold, cold Todd would appear, and shoot a kid, oh dear
Causing Heisenberg to retire and nothing more

Complications would arise, much to everyone’s surprise
As Hank would die that day, and Walt would run away
Saul could not help, for his own spinoff show had been dealt
Jessie is captured and put in the ground to stay
While Todd looks like Matt Damon, evermore

Heinsberg doth Skyinsberg berate, what will be now be his fate
The show will come to a close, with Jessie and his broken nose
A Machine Gun and Ricin are the clue, graffiti on the wall in blue
All five seasons I did adore, although it probably could have ended in four

As I fear Heinsberg will be nevermore

Damn you Raven!

Philosophy Fueled By Sangria

How To Be A Sangria Philosopher:

Step One: Drink a lot of Sangria.

Step Two: Drink even more

Step Three: Grab a pen and paper before you pass out.

—–

The world is divided into two groups: the Haters and the Hated. Now if the Hated also turn into Haters, then  the world would essentially be full of Hated? Or would it be full of Haters? Or would there no longer be two groups, the Hated and Haters, and just one collective hashtag-hater-hates.

It’s hard to say.

It’s hard to think.

If all we do is hate, then we as a society will hate to be hated, thus fueling more hate upon the hated-haters.

Hashtag: Rock-n-Roll! Hashtag: Rick Rolled!

HAHAHAHAHa……..what?

Essentially what the world needs now, is love sweet love…papa was a rolling stone…

What the world needs to do is just love, man. Love.

I love you.

Does anybody even understand the lyrics to Champagne Super Nova anyway?!

What?

Oh yeah…the world needs to stop hating. It doesn’t matter if your black or white or ebony or ivory…Sister Christian, oh the time has come, don’t cha know that you’re the only one to say, ok.

Ok.

Because you’re motorin’.

Yeah…you’re motorin’!

That’s so deep, man! Think about it!

So, to sum it up….stop hating, even though Ebony and Ivory is sung by two legends doesn’t make it a great song, and Oasis and puppies are over-rated.

Peace. Must. Sleep. Now.

Coffee – A Short Musical

Sing this to the tune of Lady GaGa’s “Applause”:I live for the reblog, reblog, reblog
I live for the reblog-blog
Live for the reblog-blog.
It’s Coffee week on Long Awkward Pause and this is my rambling on the subject. Not a fan of this, then you can check out my good friends Rants, Justin, and Monk Monkey on the same subject. And if you still don’t like that, check out my other good friends Chowderhead, Cordelia, Mike, and Len as they take on Hollywood later this month!

Curtain opens to a minimalist setting. A man dressed in a three piece suit sits at a table sipping a cup of coffee. His name is Ralph.

Ralph: (Calling off stage) Honey…Honey I’m out of coffee. Can you brew some more? (pause) Honey?

Lucy: (From off stage) Ralph! That’s your seventh cup already! Do you really want more?!

Ralph: (looking towards audience, raises cup and smiles) Yes! I can’t get enough of this stuff. (Cue music)

The stage is cleared of the table as Ralph stands up. In from stage left comes a dancing coffee pot, spoon, coffee cup, saucer, sugar cubes, a k-cup, and a creamer. 

Ralph: (singing)

Coffee, Coffee, You are my love and my life

Whether your dark or just dreamy creamy

I will drink you anywhere

Even in the shower all soapy steamy

Coffee, Coffee, You taste good night and day

I would even drink you…

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