Archive for August, 2014

Hopi Indian Pens Drunken Letter to Great Sky God – Gets Teepee TP’d for Blasphemy

Dear Great Sky God, 

Please forgive me. I know not from where I speak...plus I'm kinda drunk. Please forgive me Sky God. I know not from where I speak…plus I’m kinda drunk.

It’s me, Feathers-in-his-Head Hardiman again; your brave brave. I’ve been meaning to say a few things to you and what better time than when I’m drunk. I got my Vodka Medical card and I know how to use it. Why go to the doctor when you can self-medicate? Some self-medicate by embracing a higher purpose. I choose alcohol, and this letter is proof. 86 proof. Strong stuff that vodka. 86 proof is like 130% alcohol. My vodka of choice is called Absolut Blotto.  

And I’m drot that nunk either cuz I know how to face myself. In fact I’m feeling real uplifted cuz I’ve been reading a bunch of commencement speeches given by highly paid achievers to people of varying Degrees. Turns out you can achieve anything you want to if you’re real lucky, meet the right people and don’t spread any STDs. And unlike Little League Baseball, you don’t get a participation trophy for just showing up. Anyway that’s what Bill O’Reilly said at Liberty College in 2014. Tough love bullshit really. I’m sorry I used profanity Great Sky God. I didn’t mean to say “Bill O’Reilly.” Read the rest of this entry »

Misinterpreters’ Disorder (I Just Don’t Get It)

You complete me. Now get your ass over here. You complete me. Now get your ass over here.

This is how the day began at my Misinterpreters’ Disorder Anonymous Meeting:  

Me (to group):                      Hello, my name is David Hardiman and I suffer from  Misinterpreters’ Disorder.

Co-sufferers (collectively):   Hello David.

Me (visibly shaken):               What do you mean “Hello David?” What are you trying to say? I wish I remained anonymous.

With Misinterpreter’s Disorder (MD), the big things (relationships, schooling and parenting) I got. It was the little things (simple greetings, stop signs and expiration dates) I just couldn’t process. They took on a different and wholly unexpected meaning not at all related to my drug use (if you can call watching Hogan’s Heroes drug use). This newly discovered disorder is now covered by ObamaCare along with treatment for people who still belong to the Mark Hamill Fan Club. MD sufferers often misconstrue the cues in their environment and interpret them incorrectly. For example, the other night at a poetry reading, a woman leaned over and quietly sneezed in my ear. Not wanting to embarrass her I calmly said, “God bless you madam.” She looked me at me kind of funny and said, “I didn’t sneeze. I was just asking if you enjoyed haiku.” Read the rest of this entry »

“This was no boating accident.”

Siri Hustvedt Author and lady-Viking Siri Hustvedt

 

Terry Castle the Walter A. Haas Professor in the Humanities at Stanford. Reviewer extraordinaire and lady-Lesbian Terry Castle

That line is from the movie Jaws, where an incredulous Richard Dreyfus surveys the peculiar wreckage of a shattered boat and announces, “This was no boating accident.” And in a sense this could apply to Terry Castle’s review of Siri Hustvedt’s novel The Blazing World. That is, at first glance the decimated boat looks just like any other wreck, but upon closer inspection Dreyfus observes the imprints of shark teeth and the telltale splinters and concludes otherwise. Similarly, at first glance, Castle’s well formatted review looks just like any other review, but upon closer inspection, we see the imprints of snark teeth and the telltale heart of the reviewer and I conclude: “This is no book review.” It’s something much more interesting than that and I was on to it early – I could smell the blood in the water.

 

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Happy Birthday Steve

There's always time for Steve. He makes life better. There’s always time for Steve. He makes life better.

“Steve” turned 69 on the 14th of August 
Dear Steve,
You are so invited to my house for kale dogs and a tour of my Presidential Library. There’s even a guest room for you and Mrs. Steve and a bassinet for baby Steve. All in all it should be a splendid Stevecentric time for everyone. In fact that’s what I set my watch to. I’m on SCT: Steve Centric Time. I know you must be too. Text me or just show up. We’re pet friendly and have a carpeted Cat Condo for kitty Steve.
P.S. Except for Wally Cox you’re the only celebrity to whom I’ve made this offer.
Fond Regards,
David

Red Loin Hotel Chain now Caters to Gay Seniors

Red Loin HotelsChampioning Gay Geriatric Sexuality for almost 2 weeks (In other words, we’re trying to increase our occupancy rate)

gayhotelgayhotel1No matter how old you are, age is something you always have.  And as you approach your twilight years Red Loin Hotel chain recognizes the special needs homosexuals of a certain age may require. And that’s why not only are we gay-friendly, but we’re also LGBT-compliant even though we have no idea what the B or the T stand for. Our marketing department can worry about that. We simply want to get the message out to people who enjoy similarly equipped people, that we’ve taken concrete steps to ensure your stay with us is both memorable and unforgettable; even though memorable and unforgettable both mean the same thing. Our marketing department can worry about that. We had earlier taken wooden steps to ensure your stay with us was memorable, but we found the concrete steps were more enduring and so will you.

Therefore it is with great pleasure we present Red Loin’s gay-friendly amenities:  Read the rest of this entry »

This Page Left Intentionally Blank

 

Zen and the Art of Nothing. Zen and the Art of Nothing.

I know what I want to say I just don’t know how to say it. So in this case we’ll just let nature adore a vacuum. And don’t bother depressing the Read the rest of the entry>> link below – it’s depressed enough.

 

 

 

 

 

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My Perspective is Definitely Skewed

My Gym is great, but the basketballs are way to small. My Gym is great, but the basketballs are way to small.

Perspective

New Apple iCar: Far from Polished

 

The 2014 Apple iCar. Think differently. Way, way differently. Way, way, way differently. Or not. The 2016 Apple iCar. Think differently. Way, way differently. Way, way, way differently..

Apple Corporation whose Midas touch has yielded an unbroken string of innovative and advanced products has whiffed mightily on its latest venture: the Apple iCar. I’m sad to report this Apple is a lemon. Although the iCar was Voted Car of the Year for 2015, what Apple failed to mention is that it was voted car of the year by the National Towing Association.  

As expected Apple has made the shopping experience unique. Instead of buying the car, you “bob” for it. The company announced a hybrid model whose gasoline engine is supplememted by the buyers own sense of self-importance. The iCar comes in two versions prompting one marijuana-dazed customer to comment, “Wow man. It comes in 2 virgins. That’s frickin’ amazing. How’d they get it to do that?”   

Each iCar contains an authenticated tear-stained note from a desperate Foxconn worker who helped build it in China. These workers are constantly reminded that Apple means Jobs. This wordplay confused the workers causing one to remark, “Of course Apple means Jobs. But is it Steven or the actual job?”

A test drive revealed the Apple iCar  possesses crisp handling, but is decidedly low-tech. Evidently engineers let one of the cars ferment. And that’s how one bad car spoiled the whole bunch of them. The vehicle does, however, come with a touch screen that allows for “good touches.” Or for an extra fee you can get a touch screen that allows for “bad touches.”  The new iCar is powered by a search engine that doesn’t seem to know where it’s going. As if it’s always looking for something. Apple says the car should be parked in a cool, dry cellar. If it’s left outside too long it tends to get mealy.

One bright spot for Apple is the iCar’s crashworthiness. The car is dent-resistant, although it does bruise rather easily. To restore the finish to its usual luster just fog it with your breath and buff it out. If you’re offered one (especially by a saleslady named Eve), you’d better think twice about sinking your teeth into it. 

I hope you find these apple metaphors a-peeling.

Better luck on their next venture – the iCondom. Supposedly this one also comes in 2 models…I mean, if you’re lucky.

Going Larval, as Opposed to Viral

 

I get it. Thumbs up. I get it. Thumbs up.

The theme of this piece is me. How appropriate. Theme, the me, me. It’s all one idea in 5 letters. I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t about me. But how did I, David Nostradamus, get discovered at the advanced age of 55? I would never have predicted it. 55 is a time when men of a certain ­­­­­­age are coping with their wife’s menopause. Not me. Instead I became incrementally famous – not virally, but larvally.

With so much noise in the channel how does a Baby Boomer compete with InstaBook and FaceChat? The answer is, you don’t compete. You transcend. I didn’t so much go viral as I went larval. You see I’m a slow burn. Some might even say I’m an acquired taste and now that I’m well-aged and have developed complex flavonoids, I’m very tasty indeed. And this is not just wishful thinking; it’s an empirical judgment. For example, at a recent barrel tasting of my work at the offices of New Yorker Magazine in Altoona, PA, all agreed my latest think piece on Monica Lewinsky went down very easy. And even though it’s a stale topic and a cheap joke it was unable to mask the superb notes of organic brilliance and herbaceous luminosity in each sampled sentence. These palette pleasing phrases indicated the indigenous soil from which the story sprang was not only incredibly fertile, but also really dirty. And I had no trouble dishing the dirt. Read the rest of this entry »

The 351st Fighting Felines: A Force of Nature

Col. Tomcat Gizmo of the 351st. Col. Tomcat Gizmo of the 351st

Cats view World War II differently than we do. And with Amazon squeezing Hachette Publishing over the price of their e-books, the feline community has been unable to get out their story. Several books on the subject including Saving Private Mittens and Band of Kitties have been delayed or canceled altogether. Another problem in highlighting the heroic actions of WWII cats has been that all the cats that fought in WWII are deceased and unable to tell their story. They passed their stories down over several litters using the time-honored oral tradition of tongue to fur storytelling. The message became garbled, but using new FurSpeak® technology, I’ve deciphered and catalogued the story of the 351st Fighting Felines. I’ll now sprinkle the stories in a big bowl and we’ll all share them. After we read all our dry stuff, we’ll get some wet stuff. Read the rest of this entry »