I’M PITTIED

This morning I went to the supermarket to get a few things for dinner tonight and as I was on the checkout counter to pay, the lady taking the money made some comment about what I was buying (a joke) and the fellow behind me says: “For the Yankee game this afternoon?” “No said I, I’m looking forward to the Mets tonight.” Mr. big shot says: ”They ain’t goin’ nowhere without El Duque” “I’ll take my chances,” I said, and the lady says: “They’re both playing, what difference does it make?” Mr. Bigmouth says: “The Yanks will win, the Mets won’t.” With that comment he pats me on the back, while I wanted to pat him on the head with my fist.

Being how I always root for losers, I’m used to wanting to pat people on the head with my fist. Walking out of the supermarket feeling humble over a ball club is pretty silly, yet I feel humbled watching the Mets, Jets, and Islanders every year. Being a loser does not mean I’m a loser, just unlucky in my choice of teams. The Yankee fans can gloat, but I tried to watch the Yankees this very afternoon, and found even though they were losing at the time, and I hate them, I just couldn’t stand the boredom of it all.

HOW, IN THE NAME OF GOD, CAN ANYONE WATCH THOSE ROBOTS? There is nothing human about them, all you here are Derrick Jeter, and the most annoying phrase: “THE YANKEES WIN.” Never do you hear: “THE YANKEES WIN!”

The Mets are my kind of team, always drama, and surprise over a win, always a hardship to overcome, always trying to turn a clear, clean victory into a very close call.

When the Amazens lose a game, we Met fans wet our handkerchiefs and go on, when a Yankee lose occurs, the fans wet their pants and carry on.

I’M DRIVEN IN THE DARKNESS

The sun set early last night, as I swept around the final curve and into the parking lot at our local community college to collect Son #2.

I nervously sat in the darkness in lot #5 with a few minutes to spare and decided to get ready for the big event. As the moment I was dreading was about to begin, as I slid out of the driver’s seat and circled around behind my little truck, I kept thinking: “Do I want to do this?” I wondered if it was even legal, but took a deep breath and sat in the front seat next to the driver’s side.

The last few minutes ticked slowly by as I kept checking my watch and waited, keeping my eyes peeled for the familiar figure to descend the staircase that leads to parking lot #5, with his familiar gait, his legs and feet almost tumbling as he rolled down and approached the car.

This was it! He was going to drive in the dark for the first time, and I was going to wet my pants for the first time in 60 years. God, I wish I had a cigarette now: what ever made me quit? #2 climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition, and as he did, asked me: “Why are you letting me drive now?”

We pulled away from the curve and slowly drove through the parking lot. Each turn was taken with confidence, almost professional like in approach. Every curve was navigated like a teamster, and the more relaxed I became in his confidence as he negotiated the lanes of Nicholls Road. He has arrived! My pants are clean! We have made it! All we need to do now is pass the damn road test.

SUMMER IS OVER-GET OVER IT

Those crazy hazy lazy days of summer are gone. They came quickly and left just as fast. I WILL NOT MISS IT AT ALL.

Yes, I know you think I’m crazy, but I don’t like to sweat, and the heat slows me down. All day long I walk slow, trying not to even jump to conclusions.

A goodbye ceremony was held at RFK Stadium in Washington, DC for the manager Frank Robinson of the Washington National’s baseball team. A Hall of Famer, with 51 years in baseball, and I thought that I should have a retirement ceremony for the 2006 Summer.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you with the end of the 2006 Summer. Mr. Summer, you have done so much for the people of the Northeast this year, allowing us to sweat, having to buy clothing that reveals we are indeed getting fat, and most of all the high price of gasoline that you subjected us to. Endless bar-b-q events, eating the same salads and hamburgers, franks and beer that we ate every week, frantic rushing around to co-ordinate a cookout filled my heart with joy. The countless lawn mowing, yard cleanups and watering have left us ever mindful of your presence. The joy of raking, sweeping and bagging full our hearts with eager anticipation as we bid you a fond farewell. And who can forget the men and women in their shorts and short dresses, tank tops and muscle shirts, revealing ugly tattoos and rolls of fat that helped to keep us from overeating as we gazed upon their presence. Not to mention the endless sound of rudeness as people chit-chatted on their cellular phones to the annoyance of everyone around them. The stores, office buildings and public places, all at sub-zero temperatures that caused all the ladies to wear sweaters in July, complaining it is too cold. Like a hot car seat, maybe burning your palms on a steering wheel? All that has to wait until next year.

I can’t wait for the next person to say: “Gee, I can’t wait for summer.” I have a pointed object I’d like to acquaint them with.

ATTENTION THIRD WORLD SHOPPERS… (OOPS

TLW (The Little Woman) and I decided to begin a new quest to spend down my financial security. She wanted to buy a new coffee table for the den, and thought Ikea was the place to look.

Fending off the crowds of people and herds of off-spring that make up the clientele at Ikea is a major job! The most astonishing thing was the fact that with all the chatter that goes on, NO ONE SPEAKS ENGLISH! I overheard a sales clerk with an Asian sounding accent trying to explain to a Spanish-speaking lady about a product she was holding in her hand. Both looked confused, with the sales clerk looking a little exasperated also. The joyous little children were screaming at the top pf their lungs in Espanola as they played on the shopping carts, and a little guy with a big head about 40 years old, shorter than TLW was running around the store, kicking the bottom of beds and looking at his watch! I thought that maybe he thinks he’s in a car show room. We were going to ask where the coffee tables were but were afraid that we wouldn’t be understood.

After looking at some tables and deciding nothing works for us, TLW got hungry and decided we should eat in the Ikea Café, a trendy little spot on the second floor, featuring good old Norse fare just like Mom used to make. Salmon, cucumber and shrimp dishes, all in dill, with Swedish meatballs and sour cream pervaded one’s eye and appetite. The people behind the counter selling and preparing the food were your typical Swedes: short, black hair and speaking Spanish.

A very tall blond fellow, sporting a huge smile that said: “Ya-this is good to eat, just like Sveden” was triumphantly carrying his tray of Swedish meatballs, salmon and sliced cucumber to a table.

Among the multitude of diners was a Chinese lady imbibing upon a concoction that Sven would envy. I thought it strange that there was an announcement that stated that: “Attention Third World Shoppers: If you purchase more than $100 in merchandise, Ikea will validate your green card or passport!”

HOBO CHAVEZ

I usually don’t get political in this blog, and can’t remember if I ever did before, but today I have to make a commentary about that bum from Venezuela, you know who I mean, the flake that blesses himself like he’s a good Christian, then before the whole world to see, acts very un-Christian like and insults my country.

I don’t care who the President of the US is, I’ll criticize him if I like, and if you live in this country, you can too, but no foreigner has the right when we host the stinkers at the United Nations. Throw the whole stinking bunch the hell out, we will have more parking spaces, less traffic scofflaws, less criminals, and a better percentage of quality people walking around.

He is giving oil at 40% off the price he inflates it to, to the people of Harlem. If he wants to help, let him help the poor in his own country, I’m sure they are not all millionaires. If he is so concerned about America’s poor, why doesn’t he help them all, sending money to Watts or the Ozarks, or the poor of Miami? Who is he kidding? Only the gullible, who love to knock their country, the politically naiveté would buy into his crap. Charlie Rangle should be outraged that he needs help to heat the homes of his very own people in Harlem, who by the way are our people as well. If you remember the 9/11 tragedy, you may recall all the people fleeing the scene, all were a certain color, grey ashen, with red, white and blue in their veins. Hobo Chavez and Fido Castro be damned. And while I’m at it: screw Osmelly Bin Laden.

Part of the problem is some don’t like the results of the past two elections, and the first of the last two in particular, both in this country and outside our borders. I think our system is flawed to some degree, but we all went into it playing by the same rules. Let’s get over it, turn the page and get on with making money, feeding our own poor. Let’s think about higher education and how we make it more affordable. Look for a better way to care for the elderly in the good old U.S.A. Maybe it’s time to stop helping the rest of the world if they hate us so much and wait for them to start killing each other again, begging us to come to save their sorry asses once again.

OH, SAY CAN YOU SEE? JOSE’, CAN YOU SEE?

This afternoon I decided to rest my eyes, and pulled back the old recliner, propped a book over my eyes to keep the light out, and started to rest the old eyes. I wasn’t sleeping, just resting the peepers for further use.

Suddenly I heard the phone ring but didn’t pay any attention to it since #2 Son was home, and it probably was for him anyway. I returned to my rest mode, and tried to remember what I was resting about when the kid comes down stairs and taps me on the foot, hands me the portable phone and says “It’s Mom, she wants to talk to you.”

After a brief interrogation by TLW (The Little Woman), where I usually plead either: ignorance, forgiveness or outright denial of the posed question I realized one of my eyes had gone bad. I mean really bad! I was so blurry, yet the other eye (right) was fine! Oh God, what happened?

The lens in my glasses had popped out of the frame, and it scared me to death. Now I had to get one of those little eyeglass kits and try to screw in the frame to hold the lens.

Have you ever tried to screw in the frame with the tiny little screws, and the magnetic screwdriver? The screw dances on the head of the screwdriver, my fingers are too big and get in the way of securing the screw, and I am going cross-eyed trying to manage the whole operation. Time after time I tried to screw in the tiny little screw, time after time it would not take.

I occurred to me that perhaps the screw was too large for the hole. I thought: nah, the screws should all be universal in size, especially since we are going so small. But being an inquisitive person at times, I unscrewed the handle of the screwdriver and noticed that the screw I was using was larger than the others. I chose another smaller screw, and thought: “Great even smaller, why not.”

The tiny screw went in on the first try! Yes! I did it! Or did I? Now I have to fit the lens into the frame, and align the frame holes to match for the screw. Of course you have to handle the lens and get fingerprints on the lens. I grab the lens, squeeze the frame around the lens and now try to align the frame and fit the lens and hold the screw and not look cross-eyed and ignore the arthritis that is now settling in my hand as a headache starts to take over.

Slowly I squeeze, squinting and twisting. In goes the lens; carefully I get it to fit properly into the frame as the screw sets into place! I look at the glasses and smile. I notice that the lens needs to be cleaned.

Somewhere children are playing, and somewhere the sun sets, somewhere flowers bloom in all their glorious splendor, but I’ll never see it, that damned lens popped out again!

OH! THOSE SUNDAY COMICS!

Ever since I was about 7 years of age and able to fully read, I have been reading the Sunday comics from the NY Daily News, and later in life the Comic section in Newsday and even the NY Post. That’s 54 years of comic reading!

In the 54 years of reading the “Jokes” as we called them in my childhood in Brooklyn, I always read them quietly, and I must say religiously. I always make sure to read all the installments and the one panels too. Reading them has left me self-conscious because I am older with older children, and here I am still reading the comics!

But I was wondering why I do this and came to realize it is a good link to my childhood. I can go back to them every Sunday and just be the little boy I once was, in my quiet little world. It is probably the most peaceful time in my life, and I capture it every Sunday night. I get into bed and while TLW (The Little Woman) has on the TV, I read both the Newsday comics first, then The NY Daily News. I feel that self-consciousness as TLW watches the TV, and think I’m in bed with another grown-up reading the comics! But hey, we do see each other in our underware at one time or another.

I also try to read the daily comics too. Some carry through the week into Sunday and some are just entertaining. Even the strips with political commentary, whether I agree or not, I read. I love to see the different styles of art and coloration, verbal style and caricatures that the artists develop. I know from an early age the different styles are like signatures, Chester Gould’s Dick Tracey to Chic Young’s Blondie. The best of course is Peanuts, and I can read the same strip over and over again and not tire of it. Charles Shultz was a genius, with his commentary on everyday life, my association with Charlie Brown and all the different characters that inhabit his strip are in my life, including Snoopy. Pure genius!

It is the one outlet I will never give up, so I stay a child forever.

GOOD EVENING AND GOOD NIGHT

Now that TLW (The Little Woman) and I have settled into our new chairs in our den, an interesting phenomenon has occurred. It seems that we are both drifting, drifting, drifting off into sleep. For myself, the sleep is short lived. For TLW it is a total surrender to the sand man.

Actually, I am just resting my eyes, from the heavy duty that I put them through during the many years as a designer, so it really isn’t sleep, I just close my eyes and think. TLW on the other hand folds her arms, shoes off, remote in hand, blanket on, eyes closed and a warriors face, a face that says: “If you dare to wake me up, even if the house is on fire, I will rip your face off, and nail it on the back of your head.

We start the evening off by asking each other: “What’s on?” We end by saying to each other: “Why don’t you go to bed?”
Of course if you ask either one of us, “Who sleeps more?”, she will point her finger at me, but you won’t be able to hear her because she is snoring so loud.

The problem seems to be the chairs. The chairs are recliners, very thick and soft and cushiony. They envelope you and you can’t help but feel really relaxed. Right now, I’m on one of the chairs, typing into the laptop and

“WE’RE JUST LOOKING.”

TLW (The Little Woman) and I on occasion will go off on the spur of the moment to shop for something we may need. It might be a TV, or a chair, or even an appliance like a dishwasher. Whatever we are out to shop for, we are “JUST LOOKING.” Just looking is very expensive.

A few weeks ago we decided to shop for recliners for our den. We weren’t going to buy, just look to get an idea what is out there. This approach of just looking is our policy. We went from store to store and town to town, starting in Huntington and ending in Hicksville. We see something we like and we buy it, while “Just looking.” A sales person sees us, asks if we need help and we say: “No thank you, just looking.” Then they scratch their palms!

That fatal morning:
TLW: “I want to take a ride to Route 110 in Huntington to look for some chairs for the den.”
Me: “Are we buying them?”
TLW: “No, I just want to look.”
Me: “OK”
TLW: “Now remember, we are just looking, not buying.”
Me: “We always say that but wind up buying anyway.”
TLW: “Well, not this time.”

We buy two rockers.

After we find ourselves using our credit card, we decide that we will keep the cost down, no frills, just keep the cost within reason. Keeping the cost down usually means it will cost me for scotch guard for the fabric, insurance, accessories, pillows for the couch to match the chairs, and maybe even lunch!

Usually from the end of the last word in the sentence “Just looking” to the delivery date depends on store policy.

WRITING THESE THINGS

Writing these little blogs almost everyday is a lot of fun, once I get started. All my creativity usually starts early in the morning, and the earlier it is the better. All my inspiration comes at the early hours because the blood is rushing back into my brain as I plot my day.

This early morning process has served me well in my career as well as in my hobbies, so I know it works for me.

But where does it begin you ask?

Don’t.

However, I do wash my hands before I type the blog.

I know, I’m disgusting, but, hey, it is the truth.

YOU WANT THE TRUTH? YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH.

What can I tell you? I try to be honest and you are thinking what you will. TLW (The Little Woman) I’m sure is mortified by now, thinking: “I never knew he was like that? Why didn’t his Mother warn me?” Okay sweetheart, are you going to warn anybody when #1 and #2 get married. Nooooo-we want them married with children, no giving away family secrets.

I apologize for this little indiscretion, and pass the toilet paper, please.

FORGOTTEN NEW YORK

FORGOTTEN NEW YORK
Kevin Walsh
HarperCollins
ORDER from Amazon.com

It’s finally here! What every nostalgic New Yorker has been waiting for! And for students of New York City history, who never experienced all of the past that NYC offered and still offers, this is a treasure trove!

Take a stroll down Memory Lane, view the finer details of life in NYC. See all there is to see and know all there is to know, of the things you have probably forgotten about New York City. Get a feel for life in the early turn of the century, go back to the past and view it first hand. Best of all, know where to look for it.

You will want this book if you have not followed the forgotten-ny.com website from week to week, finding this a great guide to the past! If you have followed the web site, then this is a great reference for the future, and a great coffee table book. If you don’t have a coffee table, then this is a great reason to buy one!

There are tons of facts and tidbits, photos and categories such as:
ADS, ALLEYS, CEMETERIES, COBBLESTONES, LAMPS, NECROLOGY, NEIGHBORHOODS, SIGNS, STREET SCENES, SUBWAYS & TRAINS, TROLLEYS, YOU'D NEVER BELIEVE YOU'RE IN NYC.

All this covers the five boroughs and more.

There are great links on the website that take you to other cities, showing you comparisons and history. You will learn things that are fun to know, yet alone see in photos. Learn about the makers and shakers of the five boroughs, the details that gave birth to the greatest city on earth, the beautiful and the not so beautiful of the Big Apple.

The guy that designed and created this site and wrote the book, Kevin Walsh, used to work under me at Publishers Clearing House and did everything there was to do. He proofread, wrote and did mechanical art for my design group. Besides that he is just a smart SOB and brilliant in more ways than one, and just a genuine nice guy. So give the guy a break and buy his book already! It will make you a better New Yorker, and a better American. Besides, the price is right.

OK, I ADMIT IT, I’M A CLOSET ESPN CLASSICS VIEWER

Yes I am, I just finished viewing the roller derby episode and can now say I am hooked. Can therapy be far behind?

Watching the show and hearing the voice over, it sounded like I was the voice over! My #1 Son writes it, and maybe I’m a little prejudice, but I do enjoy the show. The comments and points of reference that are made, I keep thinking: “Hey, that’s what I would say!” Of course my son says it a whole lot better than I could ever say it.

I suffer from Tourette’s Syndrome of the mind. There is a little voice in my head that I hear, and I carefully guard against it ever speaking out. The things it says are about what I see or hear, and sometimes I even feel ashamed of it.

If you love sports and competition, that is: competitions where others are doing the sweating while you eat and watch, then ESPN Sports Classics is for you. It is a very sophisticated look at sports commentary and production techniques with a twist, or should I say a twisted mind. The involvement of watching a game or competition of any kind with just the outcome in view is a shallow and unimaginative way to view sports. You need to view with other things that are just as important to the game as is the outcome or final score.

Allow me to elaborate. You are watching the Mets or Yankees play a game. The batter stands before the batters box, steps in and undoes his batter’s glove by undoing the Velcro. Between each pitch he does the same thing, tugging open the strap and closing it again. Velcro doesn’t come undone that easily. He grabs the top of his batting helmet and pushes it downward. He spits through clinched teeth, and if you are lucky, can catch the flutter of sunflower shells as they spring from his lips. All this before the first pitch is ever thrown! If the batter is a seasoned veteran he will even grab his crotch for you, or better still during a rainy day wipe his bat on it!

There are nine other positions that require those kinds of special skills on the old diamond. I wouldn’t even begin to cover the coaches, umpires or managers.

Of course Tourette’s Syndrome of the mind is not delegated to sports only. Listening to TLW (The Little Woman), your boss, somebody at the supermarket, and my favorite of all: the conversations of someone using a cell phone are all fodder.

IT’S SO GOOD I’M GONNA CRY!

There are few things in life that move me to tears. Sometimes a commercial, other times a story about a success after hardship. Whenever any of my kids do good, I admit it, I get emotional. After I cry I call myself a sick SOB and move on. I try not to let anyone see it but I do sniffle in the eyes so to speak. #1 Son’s graduation from UNC, #2 Son’s graduation from High School and getting up out of bed when I call him come to mind.

TLW (The Little Woman) on the other hand makes me cry when she cuts down on the olive oil, or doesn’t bring me home a chocolate cream pie when she goes to buy a container of coffee for us. This too is sadness, and I secretly weep.

Well this afternoon I had a deeply spiritual moment. In the early A.M., TLW left on the kitchen counter a recipe for me to make. It is “eggplant soup” and comes highly recommended by my much older sister “Tessie.” This is my first attempt at soup so I diligently took the task on. I shopped for the necessary ingredients, making sure I was buying only the freshest ones possible. I started to cut, dice, peel and seed sorting and crushing garlic and cutting onions. I put it all in the pot and let it simmer for two hours.

It came time to test the attempt. I grabbed a slice of thyme and oregano infused bread and dipped into the sauce. Pardon me as I wipe my eyes again. The taste was, well I had to wipe away the little tears that formed on the corners of my eyes, it took the breath of life away from me momentarily as I fell back into a chair to compose myself and get over the experience.

If you would like the recipe, send me an e-mail and I will be happy to send it to you. delgraphics@optonline.net
Caution: make sure you have plenty of Kleenex.

ONE MORE MILE OR ANOTHER HOUR

I have a habit of always finding myself on a line that will take forever. Usually at the supermarket I get behind a lady that needs to write a check. This will cause the whole world to slow down. Immediately the cashier or check out person shifts gears: slow motion. Get the manager-by calling him or her in a noisy crowded store, and hope the manager hears the page.

If that scenario is not good enough, try out the price check. You are next in line, but the person in front wants to buy something and it has no price. Again same store, same noise and crowd, and same page for the manager. The purchaser then slowly writes a check to pay for it.

Of course there’s the bank line, yes, the bank line. It’s lunch hour, everyone comes to the bank on his or her lunch hour, just as the tellers are all leaving for lunch! You of course are standing on the one line that extends across the street with a teller who is looking at the clock every other second. Who is she taking care of you ask? Some store clerk with a bag full of loose change, checks and stacks of cash that need counting, receipts, and mysterious slips of paper filled out.

This morning #2 Son was running late for school, and since he had only 2 minutes before class was to start we were in a real hurry. Guess how this turns out. We have to wait for a slow moving car to go down my block so I can pull out of my driveway that is now in front of us down the street. We finally turn off to the main road and BINGO we are behind Joe Cucchinello’s Landscaping truck and trailer, with 5 or 6 illegal aliens hanging on, smiling down on us at 12 mph. The landscaper turns off and we get a red light. As the light turns green what pulls in front of us? I’m glad you ask. I pride myself in my inquisitive readers. A SCHOOL BUS WITH FIVE THOUSAND SCHEDULED STOPS TO MAKE AND WITH NERVOUS MOTHERS HELPING THE LITTLE TYKES ON THE BUS AT EVERY STOP! Would the bus driver wave us on? NOOOOOOOOO. Finally I smell hope, we spot the highway and get on. Right behind the only truck with a wide load doing 4 mph and no way to pass him!

#2 Son was late this morning.

WHAT? HUH? PARDON ME! COME AGAIN?

Did you ever spend time with deaf people?
I SAID-DID YOU EVER SPEND TIME WITH DEAF PEOPLE?
I spent time with a deaf lady yesterday. She is a very nice and giving lady. She is very opinionated, but so what. I said: “SO WHAT.”

I attended a small dinner party yesterday with TLW (the little woman), a beautiful single young 32-year-old woman who is a veterinarian and her parents. The Hostess was a 78-year-old deaf woman, who is just happy to see you and chat with you. I SAID: CHAT WITH YOU.” YOU” “CHAT WITH YOU.”

Rosetta the deaf woman can barely hear what you say, and can’t understand what she hears. She wears two hearing aids, but they don’t seem to help her much. Talking to Rosetta means you can only talk about one thing for the afternoon. The reason you talk about one thing only is: by the time you are done repeating yourself and rephrasing what you just said it’s time to go home!

TLW: “Hi Rosetta, how are you doing? It’s good to see you again.”
ROSETTA: Come again dear?”
TLW: I said Hi, How are you doing, good to see you again”
ROSETTA: “Gas is high? I just paid $2.59 down the road. No dear, the price is not going up again.”
TLW: “No, Rosetta, I said it’s good to see you again.”
ROSETTA: If you say so dear!!???!!???

While conversing with Rosetta, I was sitting next to the young lady (Jennifer), and as I shouted she jumped. I had to apologize for yelling and she understood, but by the time we left, we were all a little jumpy and a little hoarse from all the yelling. That is, except for Rosetta.

THREE AND OUT OR THREE OUTS?

Yesterday was what I hoped would be a great day. Yes, both football and baseball all in one afternoon. The best part was the games were scheduled one after the other. TLW (The Little Woman) had announced that she would be away all afternoon because of a baby shower, so the TV was all mine and ready for my assistant coach and my nephew, me the Macaroni Man. (See MY NEPHEW THE MACARONI MAN
8 Apr 2006)

For two weeks I prepped for this day, reading the rosters and stats of the players on both the Jets and Mets. Figuring out the strategies of both the gridiron and the diamond, bunt or punt. Yes, I was ready! Unfortunately, my teams weren’t.

My Mets were suppose clinch their division, which would lead them to the NLC Series, then vanquish their foes and trounce the hated Yankees in the World Series, with a win yesterday. My Jets, with a win over New England, would take control of the Eastern Division and rule for the rest of the year, then SUPERBOWL!

There is a fellow named Patrick Holland, a really nice chap with a bad habit and a keen mind. His bad habit is he’s a Yankees fanatic; his keen mind put into prospective the NY Mets and what METS stands for over the years. (My Entire Team Sucks) which has been pretty accurate until I thought, this year when all would change. They should name the team the NY Hoovers, because yesterday they did suck. The manager Willies Randolph looked like he was at the ballpark because someone gave him a free pass. He even got to sit with the ballplayers. Putting in one bum after another, with a lot of his stars on the bench, they get shut out by the mediocre Pirates from Pissburg. He was giving me the Willies.

The Jets on the other hand came out looking like flower girls at a wedding for two lesbians. They stunk, causing me to have trouble holding my fried chicken down, which by the way was as bad as the Jets. Their head coach, Eric Mangia learned all his football at the New England Patriots buffet table, and the team played like a bunch of green canolis in the first half. They staged a comeback, but it was not enough. They should not comeback, but go away.

Being an armchair quarterback is not easy. There is a lot of prep one must do to be successful: beer or Jack Daniels, chips or tacos, fried chicken or meatball heroes? All these questions have to be worked out one hour prior to game time or else you can make some bad decisions that may even agree with the head coach. So after all this preparation, conferencing with the Macaroni Man, the reading and analysis, we lose twice!

I tried to get help, going to a Sports Psychiatrist thinking he could cure my addiction to the two teams, but when I walked into his office he was wearing a Jets helmet and had his face painted orange and blue, mumbling something about the “New, New York Islanders!”

God, somebody help me!

HEY, WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?

It seems that whenever I like something, it doesn’t like me. For instance: peas, carrots, corn, beets are all vegetables that I love. The problem is I’m not supposed to eat them because they turn to sugars, and being a diabetic what else is new?

Now my favorite of all time veggie is spinach. You read recently in the news how spinach now is under surveillance as e-coli is an issue. Spinach, what Popeye taught us kids in the 50’s to eat, is now banned and dangerous! Somewhere, Popeye is nauseated, swelling and vomiting away because he ate spinach.

What can be next?

IF YOU LIKE BEANS, OLIVES, ICE CREAM, MONEY, STEAKS, AND ZETA-JONES, BEWARE! All the above-mentioned will soon be on the endangered or banned, or I can’t eat them list. (Some already are, ice cream and Zeta-Jones.)

MY DIET IS REDUCED TO AS I STATED BEFORE: SAW DUST, PLAIN NOT SUGAR PINE.

Bagels are long gone as is cream cheese, cake and donuts, oh how I wish I had one now.

I love lobster, shrimp, scallops and claims, soon will be verboten, as the diet Nazi finds out I like them.

Saw dust, marinara only. Maybe a little dust and some air with plain water will fill me up. Turkey? I hate turkey, never liked it, chicken I’m tired of since that is all I eat.

Listen: do me a favor? If I’m ever at your house, leave a box of the white powdered donuts or glazed or even custard filled laying open where I can squirrel one away? Please? OH, don’t tell the Little Woman I said that, not that she will deny me one, I just feel guilty when I look at her if I do.

GREETINGS FROM FELIX UNGER

Dear friends:

You are wondering what the hell does Felix Unger have to do with the price of onions. Well, I am Felix Unger. Yes that dust rag toting, quiche making, apron wearing househusband sob is really me, and it is scaring me silly. I’m starting to see dust in corners, spots on the glasses and recipes that need onions or something to kick it up a notch.

I can’t wait to do the dishes so I can sit down and relax; I even think I’m retaining water!

TLW (The Little Woman) is totally unaware of my dilemma, and if she were she would probably laugh at me.

So what am I to do?

I decided to fix the leaky faucet in the tub, rip out some trees in the yard that I don’t want, and eat right out of the pot (screw the dishes), and for starters go to a bar and start a fight. Of course this is my attempt to reclaim my manhood, and by God I will. The only thing in my way is I still have to vacuum the rugs, sweep the floors and clean out the dishwasher, not to mention the laundry. Oh, in case you forgot, I still have to plan dinner for tonight.

Joe (Felix)

FRANKIE, WE HARDLY KNEW YOU!

Way back in 1975 I met a man by the name of Frankie. Frankie was a free-lance artist that worked for me in NYC, and one of his passions was a good laugh. Frankie was a rotund fellow about 5’9” either way. Frankie was a good-natured jolly guy, who loved to laugh and play jokes on people. Although he never pulled any tricks on me up until then, he was a good prankster and got most people in the office. After a while Frankie left the company for a full time job.

In 1982 I joined Publishers Clearing House and whom do I see there but Frankie! Frankie had taken a job at the Clearing House and surprised me by hiding behind a cubicle as I went into my interview with my future Boss. After the interview, my new Boss Ralph said he had a surprise for me and led me out to the studio where Frankie jumped out. It was a home coming of sorts and we got caught up on the latest news with each other.

As the years progressed Frankie and I had some fun teasing each other and doing things that only friends would do to each other. One morning I arrived at work and went into my office, and as I unlocked the door I look at my chair and there sits all the supplies for the Photostat room, There was gallons of chemicals, photo paper, etc. that was delivered the day before. I immediately knew who did this and planned my revenge. I must admit it was overkill, but what the hell; it was for Frankie that I did it.

I rolled all the supplies over to his desk, put them all on top of his desk, along with his chair, and garbage can and anything he had hidden under his desk. I retreated back to my office and waited for Frankie to make his appearance. One of the Big Shots comes in, walks by his office and just shakes his head “no”. Frankie arrives and comes straight to my office, stands in the doorway and says “Good morning!” I nod a “Good morning” back and he drifts to his office laughing. All of a sudden there is a huge belly laugh as he discovers my handy work. He wasn’t done laughing yet. I make a sign that reads: “FOR SALE, ONLY A FEW THOUSAND DOLLARS, NEED TO SELL QUICKLY, CALL AFTER 11:30 PM” and hung the sign on his new car where it sat the whole day while Frankie worked and hundreds of people went by. Calls he got, even though he finally found the sign after 6:30 PM and removed it! What he didn’t see however was the string of Kotex I put together from the 6 or 8 boxes I stole from the Janitor’s closet. I hung the Kotex string on his grill, and since he approached his car that evening from the rear, he never saw the string, driving all the way home from Port Washington to his home in Kings Park!

Frankie passed away in January of 1992, and there was a large crowd of friends and family, that not only mourned him, but mourned themselves for losing a little bit of their lives too.

THE PIRATE LADY

Yesterday TLW (The Little Woman) and I decided to go to the mall to look for some candles to place on our dining room table. Before we even got there, she decided we should stop at Penney’s, which is outside the mall, and see if they carried anything. Next to Penney’s is a furniture store the TLW wanted to visit to see if they carried coffee tables for our den. BIG MISTAKE!

As we entered the store, greeting us was a older lady about 67 or 68 with a name tag on and one eye half closed due to an infection that made her look like a pirate. The Pirate Lady gave a circular to TLW and asked where we were from. TLW answered and we continued into the store telling the lady we were: “Just looking.”

As we were looking at tables, the lounge chairs came into view and TLW immediately went over to them to check them out. As we started trying them on for size, with absolutely no intent of buying one, we suddenly hear The Pirate Lady behind us starting to give us details. Half listening we started trying on each chair for height, back and leg support when we reclined them and head support. From chair to chair we went, The Pirate Lady following us about, explaining every fabric, every color, and nuances in the construction of the chairs. We see a second row of chairs and everything repeats itself, The Pirate Lady following us, giving the details as we pondered suddenly which chair we would buy. I sat in this one chair that was the least expensive chair in the inventory and found it to my liking. It made my feet comfortable and held my head just right yet when I reclined it supported me very well in its firmness. I really liked it. The Pirate Lady says: “No, your body language is not good in that chair” My body language was not good for her commission. Since we were now suddenly buying, I had to compromise and choose a chair that TLW liked since we were buying two.

How did I come to buying two chairs?

The Pirate Lady!

Beware The Pirate Lady; she will sell you anything you don’t want to buy. Granted we talked about buying new chairs for the Den since we didn’t like the ones we own, and the purchase made sense, but the timing was a surprise.

The Pirate Lady was so good at selling that she even has a set of questions that she shoots at you from the lead question. As an example, she says to me as I sign away on the terms of the chairs:

Giants or Jets fan?

Me: Jets!?

She gives me a thumbs up and asks: Do you have any confidence in Chad Pennington?

Had I said I was a Giants fan, she would have had questions about Eli Manning. But it didn’t end there, no, The Pirate Lady then stayed in ear shot as we started to look for the candles in this store, and again The Pirate Lady gives us an assessment on accessories that the store carries.
TLW and I start to walk faster, The Pirate Lady picks up speed, we dodge left and feint right, and she’s right behind us! Panic is starting to sink in, we start to run to the front of the store, The Pirate Lady keeping pace when finally someone intercepts her and we burst through the doors and head to Penney’s.

As we walk around Penney’s, I’m starting to look over my shoulder, wondering if she followed us into Penney’s too.

P.S. We did find some candles, but The Pirate Lady haunted us the whole time!

GPS vs. TLW

This past weekend the family and I spent our time in North Carolina and Duke Country, all in the Raleigh Durham area to attend my cousin’s son’s wedding at Duke University. It is a very beautiful area of North Carolina, a campus that is prestigious and filled with old American tradition born of the Deep South. North Carolina may not be very deep, but deep enough to hear a “y’all” here and there and an always polite “Good morning” from strangers.

Getting around “Blue Devil” country is not easy. If you don’t have at least a map, don’t leave your hotel room. It is filled with country roads that have hidden street signs behind magnolia trees and woods, woods, woods. I was fortunate enough to take with me the GPS or Global Positioning Satellite system that I really needed to get from the airport to the hotel to the restaurant the night before to the South Point Mall to the Duke Chapel to the Washington Duke Inn on the wedding day, to the car rental to the go home the following day, in other words everywhere I went.

I discovered as I went from one place to another that a growing hostility was developing right before my eyes. It seems TLW (The Little Woman) was becoming annoyed that I had gotten a device that told me where to go. It seems that she has been telling me where to go for years and this was becoming a little unsettling for TLW. Where the device said turn here, TLW would want to contradict the wisdom of that move. I decided that she is afraid that I will be giving the GPS more attention, especially at Christmas time when the GPS and I will be celebrating our first anniversary. I tried to assure TLW that although I will be celebrating the anniversary, I would not forget her. TLW should understand that sleeping with the GPS will not in any way infringe upon her sleep, nor in any way compromise the gift I will give her on our anniversary in June. I have just about decided to hide the GPS for it’s own protection, at least until the hostility dies away and it is safe once again for the GPS.

WELCOME TO KAMIKAZEE BOULEVARD

I am a very brave soul. Every day I take my chances as I drive #2 son back and forth to the local community college. The college itself is not dangerous, just the parking lot and the exits from them.

Some of the kids have a blind faith in their ability to pull out of a parking space and drive off. What they do is close their eyes and yell: “Here I come!” This is taught at the Helen Keller School of Driving. You generally can catch them as they emerge suddenly from their space. The Stevie Wonders of aggressive driving.

Then we have the caller. This is the young lady who phones ahead to the next stop sign or traffic light. All this is possible because she had a phone job. Unlike a nose job, the surgeon adds something rather than takes away. With this miracle surgery, she can still lead a normal life, thank God! When she drives she doesn’t need her rear view or side mirrors, since you better watch out for her.

What college parking lot would be complete without a dude? This is a young fellow who wears baseball caps backwards, hangs his arm over the steering wheel and calls everybody dude. Thinks he and the SUV he drives are cool. Like the young lady ahead of him, his cellular is surgically added to his physicality with such permanence that he is able to phone in his next move every hour, on the hour, even while he sleeps, as the world eagerly awaits his next move. He generally follows you so close you can feel his breath on your neck.

The emergence of new phenomena: the Revolutionary takes on a whole new dimension. He usually drives an old car, in dire need of a muffler, paint job and fender. Generally smokes and slides in and out of lanes with abandon. Generally takes up all causes, smokes and has boots of some kind that are old and untied. Wears baggy pants and t-shirts with a message. His head is adorned to look like a revolutionary freedom fighter in Bolivia or some country in South America, waiting to kill a “Gringo” Can utter words but prefer not to since he would have to engage in a conversation. He feels all white men are the root cause of evil in the world.

As for me, I was planning on buying a Humvee to drive through the parking lots, but I hear you can get a good deal at the Pentagon for a used tank, WWII vintage.

Please Note: I will be taking a break from this Blog until Monday. See you then.

WORKERS OF THE WORLD – UNITE!

You have nothing to lose but your sanity.

Number Two Son asked me yesterday how he could get to register to vote. I suggested he go to the library and get a registration form. Being how I was going to the library that day, I picked one up for him and brought it home where he immediately filled out all the information requested.

I have suspected for some time now that #2 Son is a commie, or at least a left wing bleeding heart. At his age so was I, even joining the JFK bandwagon of Young Democrats for Kennedy during the election year of 1960. Being how I was too young to vote, I handed out flyers and did other things to annoy my father, a staunch Republican.

When Vladimir was done filling out the form, he announced to me he was registering as a Republican, with a dumb smirk on his face. I suggested to him that he not reveal how he would vote, or be registered as since it wasn’t my business and he should be his own man. When it became time to mail out the form, it being a self-mailer with a gum strip, he became a little confused so I helped him. I couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t registered as a Republican but instead for some family worker’s party that has as much appeal to the general public as a flatulent horse standing in front of you.

#2 Son wishes to learn Spanish so he can communicate with the low scale work force, and take up their banner of impovishment and menial jobs. What and how I don’t know. If he wins a Pulitzer for all this, the world will applaud, but no one will ask where he got the money to do all this. He got it from a word that can translate in English or Espanol, Italian or Francais, Portugese or Romanian, German or Dutch-“Papa.”

BEEN THERE, DONE THAT-AGAIN

Well the day before Labor Day, Sunday my neighbors invited me over to their house (see Tuesday April 25) for a neighborhood party. At the party was a neighbor I see all the time and like to talk to because he’s my age or they’re about. Maybe he’s a little younger, maybe not, but I’m definitely prettier. His name is Tim and we can drink together for we are the big boys of the hood.

We were trying to prevent alcoholism in the hood by removing as much as possible of my Man Bill’s stock. Thank God for his lovely wife Carol who supplied us with all the necessary equipment and stock. In these very long, thin and narrow glasses we poured vodka, Liqueur Stregga, gin, Southern Comfort, and something else that escapes me. Sitting next to me was a sweet little old lady from Brooklyn that was visiting her daughter Christine. She tried to keep up but fell a little short. Fortunately she’s ok, after all she is from Brooklyn.

The action flowed fast and poured easy as we polished off one shot after another in our attempt to keep the hood sober. What ever was offered, we took care of, knowing our good deeds would be rewarded. And indeed they were, as they brought out “Avenue C Iced Tea”, a concoction of tea and the vile alcohol that shares space in the mixing pitcher. Members of the hood devised this concoction, and they should be commended for their fine work. Isn’t it great in America?

DOCTOR TOBIAS, I PRESUME?

Today is Labor Day, and it reminds me of an incident that occurred many years ago on this very holiday weekend. I was visiting my sister for the holiday, and after dinner we were sitting outside on her patio with her next-door neighbors Lenny and Maria. Maria and Lenny are the parents of 4 boys who now are all grown up and married. But being boys they were rambunctious and alive with activity, and as you can imagine made for a handful for any parent., All four boys are good boys and were when they were growing up. Summer vacation for the parents was hectic, loud and probably very busy.

As we were sitting, Maria was getting happier by the moment, as she anticipated the beginning of a new school year in a few days. “I’m so happy I can’t wait for school to start” were her exact words as I recall. I left that evening thinking: “SHE is much too happy about school starting.” I decided to do something about it, and devised a plan for the next day. It was late Tuesday afternoon or early evening and I called Maria. The conversation went like this:

Phone rings –

Maria: “HELLO”

Me: “Hello, Mrs. Zafonte?”

Maria: “Yes?”

Me: “My name is Dr. Tobias, I’m the assistant school district supervisor and my office is calling all the parents of children in our district to advise them that due to a strike by the school nurse’s labor union, there will be no school for an indefinite period of time. By law the school district cannot operate without a full time nurse on the premises of each school building. We will notify you upon any change as to when school will begin once the strike is over.”

Maria: “Oh God, my life is ruined. Thank you for calling.”

I hung up laughing over her reaction. The Little Woman informs me that I better get a hold of Maria and tell her the truth, or the whole neighborhood will be in an uproar and the kids very happy, not to mention what she would do to me when she got a hold of my neck. I decided once again the Little Woman was right and got #2 son, then very young to come with me as a human shield. I drive over to her house with #2 son in front of me and knock on her back door. On her steps are three or four very happy kids planning their extended summer vacation. There stands Maria behind her ironing board ironing when I walk in looking like she needs a drink. I ask her: “Did you get a call from Dr. Tobias?” I tell her the truth.

There was no anger in her voice or in her face, but a big sigh of relief and she blurts out: “Oh thank God!”

LABOR DAY WEEKEND, WHAT IS THAT?

The Country is celebrating a holiday this weekend, and for the first time in years I can't really consider myself part of it. Being how I'm retired I can be a casual observer, and even advise as to how to properly celebrate the holiday. There are certain things one must do and consider in the ritual of this time-honored celebration. For starters: look at the time between now and Tuesday and say: "Wow, I don't have to go back until Tuesday!" If you don't care for that one, how about this: "Gee, I can spend Sunday afternoon and evening doing anything I want, and not care about Monday and work!"

You will need certain "gear" to facilitate the celebration of Labor Day. Tall beer glasses or long stem wine glasses, a snack tray and a good set of bar-b-q tools should help. Cross word puzzles and road maps will all lend enjoyment to the weekend. DON"T FORGET TO GET A BIG JUICY STEAK for at least one day in the weekend, and oh, before I forget, ice cream is a must end of the summer treat.

Of course once Monday evening comes, you should be immediately put on suicide watch as you fade into the Sunday evening blues, with weight gain, and the thought of going back to work. Don't forget to ask yourself: "Where the hell did the weekend go??"

HAPPY HOLIDAY WEEKEND.

WHO NEEDS AN EDUCATION?

It seems I’m getting an education on everything in the world, and then some. Sitting in the car with my son while I drive him to school every day has become a “learning” experience. #2 Son knows everything, sees everything and hears EVERYTHING!

I was up in my studio on the computer and #2 Son brings up what appeared to me to be a stranger. The “Stranger” had on a funky hat, beard and long hair. Of course #2 has to be funny and say: “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.” Of course I’m not thinking that he’s kidding and say to myself, “Well at least this one looks more intelligent than his last one.” It came time to leave for school so I tell #2 Son to get ready to go, and as I go out the door I see the “stranger” as he is heading across the street to the Ignellzi household and realize the “stranger” is Joey Ignellzi! I shout out “Joey?” and Joey turns around and we chat. He tells me something about himself and I tell him of myself and off we go in different directions. Once in the car I ask #2 Son:

“How come Joey isn’t working today.”

#2 Son: “You know he isn’t in the food business.”

“Yes, he works with his Mom in a old age home.”

#2 Son: “Yup, the old people sleep on Friday, that’s why he’s off.”

With that I took him to school then went home and took a nap.

GAINING WEIGHT WHILE WATCHING TV

Yesterday the Little Woman and I were watching a cooking show on the old telly. The Little Woman is like a religious zealot when it comes to fats, with a fervor that leaves me felling guilty if I even look at olive oil. She could very easily lead a torch procession to burn and stone Emeril Lagasse and the Food Network.

Rachelle Ray was putting a little olive oil on one of her creations, and as she did, I could feel Miss Manning squirming in her rocker, nearly going off it. One tablespoon according to the Little Woman should be enough to feed a family of twelve for 7 days, in which you drip into a container any left over olive oil from that tablespoon.

I myself like to use olive oil to flavor things at the end of the cooking process. This is a NO NO, and will be dealt with swiftly with a tsk, tsk and a severe look. If I ever do that, The Little Woman will make me feel like a six year old with his hand in the cookie jar. I guess I shouldn’t complain since I feel young again. Of course there is a good reason for the way she feels, the fat from olive oil is intense and if something taste good, that should be a clue that it is not healthy.

Well fortunately for me I have been listening to her and accommodating her dietary request when I cook. She is working very hard to lose weight, and I think if she loses enough weight she will be so skinny that I can again use olive oil, claiming I didn’t know she was there, I didn’t see her.

THE BABY IS STARTING COLLEGE!

The baby is starting college??!!

The house is in shock this morning, we awaken to a new era, one filled with pride and uncertainty, and feeling the newness of it all and feeling old. There are no children in my household anymore.

It is a dark overcast morning, the Little Woman has drunk a whole pot of coffee before I even got up, and the quietness is eerie but loud. I try to read a newspaper but that little echo keeping bouncing off the walls “The baby is starting college.”

I don’t mean to feel sorry for myself, but once again the world is revolving into change. One revolution, 24 hours and things are not the same.

When the Little Woman cracks a joke, you know things are changing. I found this red spot about half the size of a dime in the fold of my right arm, showed it to the Little Woman and she said “cancer.” Well so much for complaining. Her joke is from nervousness.

Where is that little infant that the doctor held up and said “it’s a boy!” the little infant that then peed across the bed and onto my shoes? Now that I think about it, where is that little kid that played the toy violin and drums and had toys scattered all over the house? We used to take his picture on the first day of kindergarten, or was it first grade and every first day since.

There was a toddler that went around the house and made us laugh until his teenage years, who came into our lives just in time, where is he? I know, he is going out into the world to try and right things for mankind, to solve some of life’s mysteries, to help feed the poor, to try and make this place a better world for all. I hope he succeeds in at least one of these things, it is a hard world.

Michael has worked hard this past year, being not only a good student, but also a good son and we are sure he is just starting to succeed.

RETIRED OR RETRIED?

Well I knew it would happen. My old boss has called upon me once again to do a little work for him. Not that any project I do is little, its’ just that I like to do as little of it as possible. Somehow I will be designing from beyond the grave, it’s the way life is, its’ the way I am, its’ the way death will be for me.

Doing even a little bit on a commercial basis means wearing a watch, keeping an appointment, schedules and meetings. Of course I can charge maybe a dinner or two or lunch as an expense, but it is still work.

So how do I keep in a business-like manner? For starters: watching the traffic in the morning, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee even though I’m not driving, having a meeting with myself while laying down on the couch watching TV and setting a time period where I have all the time in the world to do anything I want. It will be tough, but I have to adjust to this busy new work schedule.

At least when I go to visit the old place, I will be leaving early, arriving when I say I will, and maybe finagling a lunch or two from them.

Please don’t feel bad, just send cash.

NECESSITY IS A REAL MOTHER

I was watching the TV with the Little Woman the other night and an ad came on selling a really nice invention. You’ve seen these ads where someone comes up with something and you say: “Why didn’t I think of that?” The item I’m speaking of is a collapsible colander that you can fold and put in a draw or stand up between two pots, if folds to about a ¼’ in thickness. Something like that makes someone rich and I could have thought of it too, and be rich right now.

Another item that I’m really excited about is for your clothes dryer. You’ve seen where they invented these little papers that you throw into your dryer to get the clothes lint free or wrinkle free or even smelling good. Well hold on, they came up with these little balls that you throw into the dryer, which in turn replace those little pieces of paper!

They call them “Dryer balls” and you just toss them into the drum and off you go, carefree without a worry for your clothing. Why? Because your dryer has balls! Yes, no more feckless little dryers anymore, now it can stand up to the washing machine because it has balls.

Isn’t it great in America?
We could all use dryer balls.

WILL THE REAL RUDY BEGONIA PLEASE STAND UP

Last night was a surprise party for my first niece Laurie Ann, the one I consider special. She and I grew up together in our roles as uncle and niece. While I was recuperating from a car accident on late afternoons, we would sit together in front of the big color Magnavox TV and watch Sesame Street and the Electric Company, Her Mother would be downstairs yakking with Nana and I would entertain the sweetest little girl born to that date. We learned to count and say our alphabet, and let’s face it, without Laurie Ann, I would have never learned.

Her name alone would tell you how sweet she still is, it has a magical, melodic quality to it, and in my mind there is only ONE Laurie Ann. No one else should have that name. She made me special being her uncle. I had a new title, and took it seriously. Those big dark eyes and constant smile, her quiet mild disposition have transcended the years and keep my world steady every time I see her. Laurie Ann has always been “There” for everyone that needed comforting; she is a great niece, daughter, granddaughter, wife and mother. She has a beautiful family and and great husband who is full of life named Gerard. If I were to pick out a husband for my niece, it would be Gerard. She has two great kids (See Thursday, July 06, 2006 HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEVEN!)

When I heard that my sister was pregnant, I thought that after all these years of girls in my life (four sisters) finally a boy! I didn’t think my brother-in-law would drop the ball because I could rely on him. Off I went to Patchogue to Grants and bought a set of HO gauge electric trains for my new nephew. Being how this was before my accident, I had to go to NYC to view a cinema called “The Red Desert” directed by Antonio Antonini at the Beekman Theatre. After the movie I took the train home to Patchogue and met my Dad at his place of business for a ride home. He told me that my sister Theresa had a girl! I was stunned by the curse of sisters, feeling like a Red Sox fan looking for his first World Series. I composed myself and went home. Then I went to the hospital to hear my Brother in law say: “It takes a man to have a girl” I thought about that for a while and though, just like Dad, he’s making excuses. Of course I found out later that what he said was indeed true when the Little Woman had my first child!

Once while I was still in a cast, I went to visit my aunt with my sister and mother and sat in the back seat of my sister’s car with Laurie. Poor Laurie was not at her best that day and was crying. I tried everything I could to keep her from crying, she would stop, look at me and cry again, Finally I made my voice deep and said: “Will the real Rudy Begonia please stand up.” Well not only did she stop, but she even laughed! For the rest of the trip that’s all she did whenever I said: “Will the real Rudy Begonia please stand up.”

Her birthday isn’t until September 17, but
Happy Birthday Laurie Ann, we all love you as you could tell last night.

WELL, I CAN’T READ OR SEE EVERYTHING!

Yesterday I went to the library. Being how it was raining, I figured it was a good way to spend a day and take home some good stuff that I could enjoy by myself. I selected a good book, about heart breaking losses in baseball and two DVDs, one with James Mason and Richard Burton, “Desert Rats” and a horror flick the way it should be made with Boris Karloff.

While perusing the shelves of the cinema and literary worlds, I couldn’t help but notice that I am missing a great deal of selection from the bottom shelves. It seems that my body has decided what I shall read or see. If it means I have to bend my knees, or worst still, bend at the waist, forgettaboutit.

Unless there is money on the ground, or a picnic lunch on a blanket, you “Ain’t getting me ta bend down.” No, my body has certain limits, it refuses too be inconvenienced and will react angrily to my pushing it. I have tried to: reason with it, begged it, bribed and cajoled it, it just won’t do it.

I suspect that the defiance is due to my retirement, and the fact that if I won’t sit in traffic, I’m not bending down.

So if I’m missing the boat in literature and the cinema, it’s probably because they put the boat on the bottom shelf.

NO MORE PICKLES

I’m not one to get overly sensitive about scientific issues, but the news lately has been ghastly. It seems that the International Astronomical Union has coldly voted off Pluto from the solar system! It troubles me because can earth be far behind? How can you vote off years of recognition by millions and millions of people?

There are major ramifications by the callous move by a bunch off fussy astronomers, issues that affect not only the science of astronomy, but also math and literature. Kids will think nine planets and see only eight! How do we explain that? If some child were to come to me and say: “what happened to Pluto?” what do I tell him? “Well son, Pluto was a fake, a sham, it got what it deserved.” Now eight will mean nine, and think of all the books in the universe that mention Pluto, all have to be rewritten.

Future conversation:

Me: “Pluto is gone”

#2 Son: “Cool, buy another one.”

As you can see this will not do.

But the biggest issue is mnemonic standbys such as: My very eager Mother just served us nine.

NINE WHAT?

No more pickles!

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED TO ME ON THE WAY TO THE FORUM

After being threatened with an escort of thugs out the building, I was given a “Pass” that I was to wear during my visit to PCH. The so-called “Pass” was really a nametag that said: “Hello, my name is….” Then the powers that be stamped on it 382, the number of the building, and not my name.

I left the pass on my shirt, since I was coming back after a very pleasant lunch and figured that would help me get back into the building. We collect our lunch party and headed off to a great little Italian restaurant, had our lunch and paid our bill.

As we left the restaurant, two gentlemen were entering and as they passed us, one commented after looking at my pass and said: Is your name 382????

“Yes” I replied, my Mother had so many children she started to number us. But I must say, she’s still in great shape.

True story.

Sorry the headline is longer than the story

LONG TIME – NO SEE!

Today I took a ride to my old haunts in Port Washington and Hicksville, visiting some of the people I love in the business world. First: I stopped at the Hicksville office to say and tease them that I was retired and they sere still working. Once I removed the computer from you know where, I decided to visit Port Washington and Publishers Clearing House, “the place where dreams come true.” Since it was a good long while since I had seen everyone, the reunions with all the great people I know there started out rather ominous to say the least. I announced myself to the receptionist and asked for Carole Sapienza, who the receptionist rang up. A strange look fell over the lady’s face as she told me point blank that I was to be escorted out of the building!

Needless to say it was a prank by the crank of Carole, and I was the SAPienza! Carole came to collect me in the lobby, and everyone had a good laugh at my expense. It seems there was payback in this prank somehow. She will pay.

There were five of us, as we sauntered off to a quaint Italian Restaurant that I kid you not had wash hanging from the ceiling! It was part of the décor of a courtyard in Italy, but it could have been the backyard I grew up in, in Brooklyn.

Besides the lovely Carole was her partner in dastardly deeds perpetrated upon my innocent person in the form of Jan Spalding, a hired gun of Carole’s who doesn’t shoot strait. Rounding out the collection of Post Office pinups were Kathy Taylor and the “Horn”, the one and only Susan Einhorn formally a Hirshhorn, but lost her standing when she changed her name through marriage. It should be noted that Susan was always changing her copy, driving all the art directors: insane as they had to revise their work. One night while leaving the building I pass Susan’s office late and she was still working! I inquired as to why and stated that I thought for sure, she would be out, changing her mind!

Jan was her exceptional beautiful self, as she and the lovely Mrs. Sapienza ran me through my paces, visiting all the guys and gals I had known for years. And for the effervescent Mrs. Taylor, why she made sure that I saw everyone I wanted to see. What a great bunch of gals!

Today were such a pleasant visits from Hicksville to Port Washington, that it defies in some ways that old adage: “You can’t go home again.” Well you can with the people I had lunch and visited with.

IT’S PARTY TIME IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD!

Saturday the neighborhood, (The hood) had a little get together. Hosted by the Ignellzi’s across from me, we had a great time. The host and hostess are two wonderful people with great values and great kids. Alyson, the real brains behind the Ignellzi operation is a lady with great home décor design sense, who is in the wrong business. She is also the undisputed champion of sausage and peppers! Great stuff!

Richie her Husband is one of these guys that loves to be around people and is a great host. You know he loves his family and does along with Alyson a great job in raising two great and good-looking kids.
My man Bill was there along with his family, and with all the other neighbors, we laughed and drank like nobody’s business, as I knocked back 3 or 4 tequila shots (especially from Jalisco, made from fermented sap of a maguey-like agave) Just thought you’d like to know.

Coupled with the beer and Molly’s Irish Cream the Little Woman is probably applying for an annulment about now.

The fact to this whole matter is that I’m glad the hood can keep up with the big boy☺ I was able to walk away, still standing and quite sober. I think the Jack Daniel Manhattan’s I consume keep me in training for these kinds of events. Thank you very much!

HEY COUSIN!

Yesterday I had the pleasure of seeing my cousin Billy who happened to be on Long Island and was attending a high school reunion in Huntington. It’s funny how we change physically as we get older, and then with those changes we see glimpses of the past by mannerisms and inflections of the voice.

Billy lives in Virginia Beach, and usually travels to Florida to visit his Mom, who is in her early to mid eighties and widowed. When Billy visits my Aunt, he does as much as he can to help her. He is a good son who appreciates all his parents did for him, taking my widowed and walker bound aunt wherever she wants to go, and fixing up little things around the house for her.

While attending college, I lived for a while at my aunt’s house and saw Billy grow up. He was always a good kid and did a lot for his parents. Being a chunky little kid who was very active, he would make his parents pancakes and coffee at the tender age of 6 or 7 years of age.

Billy loved the New York Knicks when they were still awful 60”s style. A bunch of bad and over the hill players who could only be watched under a gun, he loved them, watching every game on TV. We got along very well, since I was so much older, and he loved to wrestle with me, getting red in the face with his blond hair sticking up and sweat pouring out of it. He had a great toothy smile and was always happy, doing what any mischievous kid at that age did, getting into little peccadilloes and getting his reprimand from Mom and Dad.

Since my Uncle was very low keyed, this kid was a box of action, laughing, rolling and rollicking, noisy and at the same time loving. He really was a special kid. Yesterday I noticed he now has a little southern accent in his voice.

As we get older, we lose touch with what is really important. People who leave found memories are important to me, and in Billy’s case, I dropped the ball. Billy is adopted, but he is the only cousin I have who not self indulged, and I am proud of him.

SNAKES ON THE PLANE OR BATS IN THE BELFRY

Today was bonding time with #2 son, and the very first movie revue for DelBloggolo. The Little Woman informed me that #2 son expressed a desire to see the movie “SNAKES ON THE PLANE” with me, and would I take him today.

Except for the large cast of snakes and Samuel L. Jackson, the acting was horrific, I think the plot was dropped because of budgetary restrictions, and the audience was on a first name basis, all five of us. Today was the movie’s premier showing, and story line was about why I should read movie reviews before I see one.

It was written for high school sophomores with permission to see titilizing sex. The premise of the movie is that if you recommend this movie to anyone, he/she will never speak to you again.

As we drove to the theatre, #2 Son tells me that the general public wrote some of the movie with suggested scenes, and I think the ones that did go back to elementary school in a few weeks, which should save Hollywood for a while.

I guess it was so bad it was good. Maybe it was good and bad! Maybe I should stay out of movie theatres if this is what they are making. I took a few courses in college that stressed that cinema is art, now it is craftsmanship at the lowest level.

The shame of it is that I missed a Yankee, Red Sox game, however at least I shared some time with the kid.

WHY ME GOD?

There is a movie called “THE WEDDING DATE” starring Debra Messing that I happened to catch part of. There is this scene where a fellow is washing his boat and has a bucket of water that he tosses against the side of the boat, and it splashes back into his face. Every time I see that scene, I laugh because it reminds me of myself. Getting splashed is exactly what would happen to me, even if I knew it was coming.

I have been prone to accidents since I was born, running around the house with a glass baby bottle in my mouth, falling and having the glass slivers cut into my tongue. Fortunately not all my accidents have been that bad, but usually something happens to me. I wash dishes, pour something into the sink, and hit the edge, the liquid running down my pants. Once when I was working at PCH, I met someone in the men’s room, while washing my hands. I started talking to the individual, leaning against the sink with my arms folded when all of a sudden I feel something wet on my lower back! Someone had left the sink I was leaning against all wet, and it left a long streak of wetness along my back, parallel to my belt!

When I eat in the office, I take a cloth napkin to work and put it around my neck, tucked into my collar. Nothing hits my tie or shirt, but sure as hell it finds my lap.

Being absent minded could be the reason, but don’t flatter me that way because my mind was never there to begin with. I once got into the same section of a revolving door at a bank, with this little old lady. I have been known to enter apartments thinking I was somewhere else, when I was in a stranger’s home! (More on that one later.)

One of my worst offenses is what I call name blank. You may have experienced it yourself, but I own the rights to this phenomena. I go to introduce two or more people that I know well, yet forget one persons name for some reason. What I usually do is stall the introduction, elaborating on how I know this individual until he or she blurts out their name.

And the very worst thing that can happen to me? When the Little Woman ask me to take care of something she’s been handling all along, say picking up a medication and using a debit card to pay for it. I don’t know the procedure, and inevitably the pharmacist has to guide me as I mumble, “The Wife usually takes care of this.”

ME, DAD AND POWER TOOLS

My dad was the most efficient user of power tools that fit a homeowner’s toolbox. He didn’t own many, just a power drill and a circular power saw, but the energy he saved from using just those two items and his only son, are a remarkable testament to the body of work he performed, and the labor he saved. I wouldn’t even begin to mention the accolades he received from the results he achieved from all three. Tony was a genius!

I know, I still have some of the scars from his genius, still possess some of the back pain from his mastering efficiency to the fullest sense. Power tools are what make the man, not the son who holds the ladder, who holds the wood, who holds his breath as Pop slams the circular baby into the plywood, as it screeches across the grain of pine, maple and oak, spewing saw dust into the air and up my nostrils. Just make sure you don’t move, or you will hear a crescendo of Italian curse words fall about your ears.

Dad was a leader, he often lead me to one kind of job or another, be it woodworking or painting a wall, Pop lead me there. We were an interesting army of two. He being the General and Admiral (some plumbing) and I the dog foot soldier doing the grunt work. Once we had to paint this factory office on a wintry Sunday afternoon. Orders were issued thus: “Get a broom, clean out the corners of the ceiling, and follow with a rag and clean between the walls and the ceiling, When you are done, get on the floor and clean along the woodwork and floor, and don’t forget the corners, I’m going to mix the paint” or, “You stand here and hold this wooden tee (Weighing a ton) with the sheet rock on it, while I nail it up.” Dad was the master planner, always had solutions to problems, namely: me.

One day we were going to paint this house and Dad found this one wall with a lot of nails and nicks in it. He says to me: “You want some coffee?” Me thinking he was going to send me out to get it, said “Yes”, He says: “Good, I’ll go get some at the deli, meanwhile you get all these nails out, and get some putty to smooth out the bad spots. And make sure you sand”

What a genius!

GETTING IN LINE

“He’ll offer you the heights of ecstasy, but you’ll spend eternity in the depths of hell.”

Pretty scary stuff when you’re waiting on line to pay college tuition! Or if you like,

“This is the beginning of the end.” Yes, for poor old Dad as he pays up.

When in a college line, never bring reading material, it is provided for you by the students themselves. Although the reading material is not of your choosing, it is interesting none-the-less. What you must realize however is that the reading is on the back of a t-shirt, and it constantly moves about. The other problem is all the t-shirts are black, the lettering either white or red, and with it comes dandruff that sprinkles itself between the letter spacing.

There are other distractions and amusements to bide your time. A mother and her son go onto the end of the long line, and the young prodigy immediately declared that he was not going to wait on the line. Of course Mamma had other thoughts about it, and as her baby turned to leave, she stated she would call “Daddy” and put an end to the nonsense.

People watching can be fascinating, and I have perfected the art years ago, waiting for trains and buses, watching people and trying to figure out what their calling in life was. Most of the parents waiting on line were middle-aged people from humble backgrounds that looked like they were aggravated and their child was helping them look that way. As for my child, he was happy to be there, following all the instructions, reading all the signs and listening to all the directions. Signs are everywhere. “Any student that attends class without a photo ID will cause his parents to be arrested, and they in turn will have to pay even more.” “If your parents have any loose change in their pockets, it must be deposited with the cashier.” “All parents are required to leave signed blank checks with the cashier.”

College life is exciting, and being a college bound parent I’m excited for #2 son, but not for my pockets. We don’t even know about books yet, what books he’ll need, and where we can purchase them, let alone how much they will cost.

Pray for me.

DRESSING DOWN

Yesterday #2 Son went to a party for some little girlfriend of his. As he was leaving I thought how strange everything is becoming. He took a shower, and then dressed like he was going into the mountains of Columbia to wage a revolution. Even his hat made him look like Fidel, minus the cigar and beard.

When I was his age I always dressed with pressed and starched clothing. My pants had a crease, and my shirt was always ironed and above all clean. I looked very nice and thought nothing of it as I entered the party. I took it for granted I wanted to stay, and that no one would throw me out for looking like a bum.

Today everything is now easier and less complicated on the social scene. Even at work it is becoming very casual. I envy that, since for years I wore ties and jackets or suits always uncomfortable and weary that I would spill something on my suit or tie. You spill something on yourself today, and it adds to the charm. Red stains on a white shirt today mean red accessories, mud on the shoes means look for more mud.

Kids come into my house and almost none of them say “Hello” or introduce themselves. Some are even helping themselves to something to eat! I guess casual has its’ rewards. I have been keeping track of who my kid is so if I’m hit up for money I know how much interest to charge. (Family members always get a lower rate.)

I can remember when my Mother sent me to church on Sunday, dressed like I was going for a job, suit and tie with polished shoes. Today you can mistakenly give money to what you thought was a derelict who five minutes later, is saying the Mass! Yes, even the priest dress like bums. The nuns have shed their habits (dress wise, they are still mean to me.) I can remember when you got on a plane to fly off somewhere or even the LIRR to visit someone: you always dressed up.

Well, I guess I’ll brush off my sneakers, I have a wedding to go to.

THE QUEST FOR DIRECTION

In a few weeks The Little Woman, #2 Son and me will fly down to North Carolina for a wedding at Duke University. What‘s important here is not the Bride and Groom, but how we will look. I do not wish to look too good, because I don’t want to upstage the Bride. With the coming event looming, the Little Woman decided to go dress hunting, and needed someone to carry the rifles, food and medical supplies on his head as she foraged, and traipsed through the jungles of the Huntington Mall. The safari started out at 9:30 in the am, and continued to about 1:00 pm.

Bwana wanted a particular look with a particular price, while boy wanted a particular bench to rest his tired feet. Covering every store in the mall, we finally came to this one store that had what she wanted. Bloomingdales! Let me tell you, the Little Woman has lost weight that no one felt she needed to lose, but when she did, WOW! She looks great! Well the Little Woman looks like I should call my wife and tell her I’ll be late for dinner beautiful! Very elegant and chic, FORGEDDABOUTIT!

As I rested, I realized that this was the second mall in a week, and that there are many more malls left in the U.S. I figure she will slowly work her way out to Hawaii and Alaska before going international.

One of the most amazing facts that I learned living with Marco Polo is that she has a great sense for direction while in a mall. I on the other hand, find myself in constant confusion as I try to remember where the hell I am, where I parked the car and what day it is. The Little Woman can be blindfolded, taken to a strange mall where I will park the car, take her into the mall, take her blindfold off of her, and she will shop for a few hours, then find the car. I say “Thank God”, because I could never find it.

NOW, IF THEY CAN ONLY BRING ME BACK

You may have read recently that GM is bringing back the Camaro. It was the sports car of its day, right behind the Corvette. It was the one car I truly loved of all the cars I owned in my lifetime. The Camaro made me cool: along with my Edwardian Suits and wide toed shoes, with colorful floral patterned ties, I cut quite a figure.

Never again will they bring back the feeling I had when I first drove that little green beauty with its’ black vinyl roof and gold interior bucket seats. My younger sister got herself a Red Mustang around that time, but it didn’t have the charm of that little green monster.

There are a lot of things they should bring back in life. One of those things was the days I spent dating the Little Woman. They probably were the best carefree days of my life. I had a beautiful girlfriend, money in my pocket and a keen sense for a good time. The Little Woman, (Miss Manning) would always have a smile on her face, a sweet disposition and a cold nose. I used to love to call her on the phone at her job at Mobile Oil in NYC. She had and still does have a sexy voice, and when she answered her phone with “Miss Manning”, I wanted to leave my office and go direct to Mobile Oil.

Another thing they should bring back is the times I spent playing ball with my kids. I loved to play ball as a child and tried to get that enthusiasm into my kids. Playing catch with your son is like tossing all the current problems I may have had and just talking about baseball, football or anything the kid was involved with. I can remember my daughter Ellen, who could hardly stand on her feet, being able to catch a large rubber ball on one bounce, and getting so excited she would drop the ball and clap her hands!

Of course no one should live in the past, but it is the past that teaches.

So if you are young, go out and buy a Camaro, maybe you’ll find a sexy sounding beautiful girlfriend, have money in your pockets, and a good time will come automatically. Stay away from Edwardian suits and floral ties.

IT’S LIKE GETTING TEETH PULLED

Have you ever gone through something that just refuses to pan out. Well for the past year that is exactly what is happening to me when it comes to the dentist.

My dentist came to America from the noble land of Greece, and is a Greek freedom fighter, and is fighting me over here in the States. Not only does her accent prevent me from understanding her, her attitude prevents me from liking her. She is very lazy, and I think she got her diploma from Spike’s Dental School and Automotive Repair Shop. (Come to think about it, she has spread out a little if you know what I mean.) And that chest! Smothering me as she exams my mouth, telling me no less to open wide! She should open an office and call it: Teeth R Us. Instead Dr. Lazyopoulous works with a “Dental Group.” With a Dental Group you get to make an appointment at any time so you can come back later in two or three weeks to be told: ”Uh-Uh” we don’t do that. No, it turns out what I need is 5 crowns and 3 bridges for my mouth. I don’t think NYC has that many bridges. The Dental Group has their “specials” the GW Bridgework, that keeps your gums tied up for over ¾ of an hour, they offer the Throgs Neck Bridgework which spans the whole side of your mouth, letting little deposits drop into your throat to choke you, and the special of the house, the Whitestone Bridgework that comes in lovely white enamel caps, and if you are on your way to New England, your mouth will taste the seaside, (seaweed extra, of course.)

Speaking of “Course”, the cost…Over six thousand molars, but they do take credit cards. One of the important aspects of the Dental Group is their free offering of forms to fill out. If they haven’t seen you in more than 1 year, out come the forms. Such forms with questions like: How old was your Mother-in-law when she cut her first tooth, and her phone number when she was three years old, the current policy number in which you better have insurance to pay for this, and a new form on sleep apnea! It seems that they would like to expand the business, and figure this field to be a natural. I fill out the form, and they tell me I am a prime candidate for apnea testing and research, in which I will be receiving a call in a few days. I just hope they don’t awaken me from one of my naps. (Actually I am resting my eyes.) Then there is the form that is written in 5 point Times Roman Condensed, that fills the 8 ½” x 11” paper with what you are supposed to read that will absolve them when they screw up the job, and you come out talking like you walk with a swish and talk with a lisp to booth.

You call ahead and they ask: “What are you coming in for?” You go to the receptionist and she asks: “What are you here for?” They escort you into the examining room and the assistant asks: “What are you here for?” and finally, Dr. Lazyopoulous asks: “Why are you here?” I think: “to annoy you my dear with my teeth.”

AND YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW THE BIBLE

PAY SPECIAL ATTENTION TO THE WORDING AND SPELLING. IF YOU KNOW THE
BIBLE EVEN A LITTLE, YOU'LL FIND THIS HILARIOUS! IT COMES FROM A
CATHOLIC ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEST. KIDS WERE ASKED QUESTIONS ABOUT THEOLD
AND NEW TESTAMENTS. THE FOLLOWING STATEMENTS ABOUT THE BIBLE WERE
WRITTEN BY CHILDREN. THEY HAVE NOT BEEN RETOUCHED OR CORRECTED.
INCORRECT SPELLING HAS BEEN LEFT IN.

1. IN THE FIRST BOOK OF THE BIBLE, GUINESSIS. GOD GOT TIRED OF
CREATING THE WORLD SO HE TOOK THE SABBATH OFF.

2. ADAM AND EVE WERE CREATED FROM AN APPLE TREE. NOAH'S WIFE WAS
JOAN OF ARK. NOAH BUILT AND ARK AND THE ANIMALS CAME ON IN PEARS.

3. LOTS WIFE WAS A PILLAR OF SALT DURING THE DAY, BUT A BALL OF FIRE
DURING THE NIGHT.

4. THE JEWS WERE A PROUD PEOPLE AND THROUGHOUT HISTORY THEY HAD
TROUBLE WITH UNSYMPATHETIC GENITALS.

5. SAMPSON WAS A STRONGMAN WHO LET HIMSELF BE LED ASTRAY BY A
JEZEBEL LIKE DELILAH.

6. SAMSON SLAYED THE PHILISTINES WITH THE AXE OF THE APOSTLES.

7. MOSES LED THE JEWS TO THE RED SEA WHERE THEY MADE UNLEAVENED
BREAD WHICH IS BREAD WITHOUT ANY INGREDIENTS.

8, THE EGYPTIANS WERE ALL DROWNED IN THE DESSERT. AFTERWARDS, MOSES
WENT UP TO MOUNT CYANIDE TO GET THE TEN COMMANDMENTS.

9. THE FIRST COMMANDMENTS WAS WHEN EVE TOLD ADAM TO EAT THE APPLE.

10. THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT IS THOU SHALT NOT ADMIT ADULTERY.

11. MOSES DIED BEFORE HE EVER REACHED CANADA. THEN JOSHUA LED THE
HEBREWS IN THE BATTLE OF GERITOL.

12. THE GREATEST MIRICLE IN THE BIBLE IS WHEN JOSHUA TOLD HIS SON TO
STAND STILL AND HE OBEYED HIM.

13. DAVID WAS A HEBREW KING WHO WAS SKILLED AT PLAYING THE LIAR. HE
FOUGHT THE FINKELSTEINS, A RACE OF PEOPLE WHO LIVED IN BIBLICAL TIMES.

14. SOLOMON, ONE OF DAVIDS SONS, HAD 300 WIVES AND 700 PORCUPINES

15. WHEN MARY HEARD SHE WAS THE MOTHER OF JESUS, SHE SANG THE MAGNA
CARTA.

16. WHEN THE THREE WISE GUYS FROM THE EAST SIDE ARRIVED THEY FOUND
JESUS IN THE MANAGER.

17. JESUS WAS BORN BECAUSE MARY HAD AN IMMACULATE CONTRAPTION.

18. ST. JOHN THE BLACKSMITH DUMPED WATER ON HIS HEAD.

19. JESUS ENUNCIATED THE GOLDEN RULE, WHICH SAYS TO DO UNTO OTHERS
BEFORE THEY DO ONE TO YOU. HE ALSO EXPLAINED A MAN DOTH NOT LIVE BY
SWEAT ALONE.

20. IT WAS A MIRICLE WHEN JESUS ROSE FROM THE DEAD AND MANAGED TO
GET THE TOMBSTONE OFF THE ENTRANCE.

21. THE PEOPLE WHO FOLLOWED THE LORD WERE CALLED THE 12 DECIBELS.

22. THE EPISTELS WERE THE WIVES OF THE APOSTLES.

23. ONE OF THE OPPOSSUMS WAS ST. MATTHEW WHO WAS ALSO A TAXIMAN.

24. ST. PAUL CAVORTED TO CHRISTIANITY, HE PREACHED HOLY ACRIMONY
WHICH IS ANOTHER NAME FOR MARRAIGE.

25. CHRISTIANS HAVE ONLY ONE SPOUSE. THIS IS CALLED MONOTONY.

Special thanks to Joellen and Seth Smith

MY BEST LAID PLANS

Yesterday was so beautiful I became inspired and mentioned to the Little Woman that we should pack a lunch and drive out to the North Shore of Long Island and stop at a winery for a few samples, find a shady spot to spread a blanket and have lunch, and maybe look for a beach where we could just lay on the sand and hear the roar of the ocean while smelling the salty water. I thought that maybe we could take the time just for ourselves, forgetting work and any children that needed attention. The Little Woman jumped on the idea like a cat on a hot tin roof.

As we began our trip I became suspicious as we headed east on the LIE, and I was directed to take the last exit. This exit if not careful can lead you to the Tangier Shopping Mall. I started looking for the vineyards of the North Fork, but all I could see was liquor stores with specials hanging in their large windows. Undeterred, I started to look for a small grassy spot where we could lay a blanket out and eat a pick nick lunch, when I realized we didn’t bring any lunch. Instead I found an overhead shelter made of concrete that overlooked the parking lot of the Mall, where I sat while the Little Woman went into some of the stores. The beach you ask? Well there was a vending machine that sold mineral water, ice cold.

Some how, we had screwed up the master plan and took what was in store for us. That is to say every woman’s store in the Tangier Shopping Mall in Riverhead. Included in this array of romantic stops where at least two linen stores. I figured maybe she was buying silk sheets, but no, she was buying pillows for her baby.

In all fairness to the Little Woman, she and I had a commitment for later that afternoon, so my plans weren’t practical. Call us Sputnik and Explorer for the two satellites of the 50’s that dominated the news, as we revolve around #2 son until he gets his driver’s license. AOK?

I PUT THE “K” IN KWALITY

Now that I’m retired, I decided to give the Little Woman a break and do as much as I can around the house, being as how she works. Besides I don’t need a worn out wife working night and day. Don’t get me wrong, I always helped when I could, and if I saw that a floor needed vacuuming, I would grab the machine and do it. Emptying the dishwasher, filling the dishwasher, throwing out the trash, even mopping a floor once in a while, no problem. Make a bed, I’m your man, just try and get out of it before I make it, please. But now things will be different, I will make it a routine and hope to not screw it up to badly.

One of the things I will have to do is develop my own phraseology and use it as the occasion arises. My Mom had her own, things like: “All that butter, what am I made of butter?” One of my favorites was “Shut those lights off, what do you think, I’m related to the light company?” Or the best was “Wait, just wait till you’re married, then we’ll see who’s cheap!” Of course my phrases will have to be up-to-date, state-of-the-art little nasties that I can fling at will. Maybe something like: “Yo! You paying the bills this month?” Or, “Yo (talking to the same party, you know who) are you going to hire a valet to pick up after you?” I know these are weak, but they are in the developmental stage, and need work. The Little Woman never uses phrases; she just goes along and does what needs to be done. I like the use of phrases because it will lend itself to how I feel at the moment.

My attempts at being Suzy Spotless will not come without a price. I know darn well I screw some things up at first and maybe even second times. You can’t replace a pro with an amateur when it comes to housework. The Little Woman can clean a messed up house in nothing flat, just by her organizational skills while I will plod along at first. I will still keep up the outside, which I like to do because I love the yard, pool and plants. My most useful tool, glad you asked, the phone, with speed dial to her desk.

DOC, THIS NECK STRAIN IS KILLING ME!

Yesterday I was sitting in the waiting room of a neurologist that my daughter was scheduled to see. As I was waiting for her to arrive, a couple in their late 60’s arrived, and the wife went to the see the receptionist, while the husband took a seat. She was a short stout woman with short grayish blond hair and the face of a pugilist ready to retire. He was a tall gentleman with glasses, bald and gave off the appearance of being meek and helpless. The wife, (let’s call her Max, for Max Bear) sat across from him. She started to fill out some forms attached to a clipboard and he was reading a magazine when she suddenly called him over to sit next to her. She dropped the clipboard in his lap and gave him a pen the finish up the forms. After a long hesitation, and slowly writing by him, Max grabbed the pen and board and looked at him like he was stupid. She then proceeded to complete the forms. Mr. Meek got up and went to his original seat next to me with an empty seat between us.

Suddenly a very attractive young lady arrived that caused me to put aside the troubles of the world (which I carry on my shoulders) and look at one of God’s creations at its best. Being how I was flying solo I looked just to make sure that I didn’t know her. I would hate to be rude and not say “Hello!” She was a stunning brunette with a body sculpted from marble, her hair flowing down past her shoulders, wearing this black outfit that cried out to me, “If Ellen could read your mind you’d be dead!”

Mr. Meek happened to notice the young lady also. In fact, he went out of his way to be discreet about it, and not let Max catch him in the process while her outfit screamed out to him “If Max catches you you’re dead also!”

Mr. Meek first tried to slightly turn his head in the brunette’s direction, but Max kind of got a sense that something was up as she shot him a glance and he dropped his head. Mr. Meek then twisted his head in the opposite direction of the Brunette but jammed his eyes over to steal another glimpse. Max looked at him and said, Stan, you come sit next to me now. I couldn’t see his reaction, because I was behind the national Geographic, stifling a laugh while squeezing my stomach together to keep my body still.

THE GREAT PURGE

Yesterday I was driving with #2 son by an old graveyard, and as we past, he asked me if I knew who was buried there. I assured him not individually, but collectively they are all dead. This answer is not right. The correct answer is Masons are buried there. Yes, I think he means Free Masons, because there isn’t a whole lot of stone work in the graveyard.

He asked me if I knew any Masons, and I answered yes I did from my past.

“All Masons should be purged.”
“What!!??”
“You heard me, all Masons should be purged.”
As unwilling to further this conversation that I was, foolish me continued it.
“You mean out of government?”
“No, shot”
“SHOT?:
“Yup, they are nothing but traitors to their country.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yes, you should shoot them”
“OK, but only one, after all I am retired now. But does that mean you are taking down the Soviet Russian flag off your wall?”

Earlier that day I took him to the Subway sandwich restaurant so he could buy himself some lunch. After purchasing his sandwich, he gets into the car and as we drive away, I inquire as to what constitutes his sandwich.
“Oh, grilled vegetables with cheese and Italian spices and sauce.”
“Wow, you slap some salami on that sucker and you are in business!”
“Why don’t you become a veggie?”
“Because I love meat.”
But it will kill ya.”
“OK, you quit smoking and I become a vegetarian.”
“OK, you become one now and I will quit.”
“No way, because if I know you, while I’m eating like a rabbit, you’ll smoke to that.

I’VE GOT ISSUES

You are probably wondering what this grouch has issues about. Well, let me tell you. The Little Woman was watching a TV show the other day. It was one of these shows about home remodeling, which was followed by a similar show right after it. In both these shows, a woman returns to her home and sees the results of the remodeling. They go into the most annoying phrase to come out of U. S. culture in a long time. The Phrase?

“OH, MY, GOD!”

Let me tell you the pause between words is irritating enough, but to use it two or three times in a row gets me flickered, or too borrow another stupid phrase, “Pisses me off” pardon my crudeness and the very fact that I used it to begin with, but that must make me just as dumb.

Here’s another peeve I have with these same types of women. For some reason they are under some stress or are crying or gasping and they all stick their index finger horizontally under their nose as they carry on.

WHY?

35 years with the Little Woman and I have never seen that happen. The same goes with all my sisters and come to think of it, my sisters in law also. I fear my nieces may be doing it because it is a young persons thing. I have a suggestion.

DON’T DO IT.

Why? Because it isn’t you, that’s why. It is a fake way to express yourself and you look void of any self esteem when you borrow someone else’s phrasing.

I am sorrow, but it just irritates me and I can’t stand it. These are perfectly good people, not doing any harm to me or themselves or the public in general, but for some strange reason it makes me mad. I know darn well that I must do something like that myself, and if I do, please let me know.

I think its’ the heat that got me started on this, I WAS going to write of the GNP for 1977 coupled with inflation, but 100 degrees got in the way.

OH, MY, GOD!” I hope you’re not pissed off at me!!