Archive for the ‘Ditties’ Category

Although suffering from a disfiguring dimpled chin caused by an errant harpoon, Kirk Douglas nonetheless became a major movie star and an exemplary human being. However…

Kirk Douglas will be 100 on December 9^th. When he was born, radio was in its infancy and so was King Tut. Doesn’t he know his time has come…and gone? Kirk buddy, there are no more Oscars for you. No one is going to throw you roses anymore; just orchids.  At least your chum Burt Lancaster had the good sense to exit the stage at 80. But you, my friend, don’t seem to want to take that direction – and you call yourself a “Directors actor.” Phooey. What can we do to get you an epitaph? I’m not encouraging you to die exactly, it’s just that I suffer from an OCD and I need to put you in a category whereby you can only make underground movies – 6 feet and underground movies.

You were old when I was born 55 years ago and your dimpled-chin presence unnerves me to this day. Your son Michael I get. He’s from my generation. If Tom Brokaw wrote a book about yours it would be called “The Sootiest Generation.” Weren’t you a character in several Charles Dickens’ novels? Paul Newman, Marlon Brando and most of the Bee Gees have passed on. Can’t you take a hint and quietly exit stage left? Why are you still hanging around? There will be no Spartacus 2. Read the rest of this entry »

George Washington: austere, exemplary and horny as hell.

Would you believe George Washington slipped his new bride the aphrodisiac Spanish Fly or that he had a porno stash that would make Hugh Hefner blush? Well just like George Washington couldn’t tell a lie, neither can I because everything I’ve written is true. Yes, the Father of our Country was not only an intrepid patriot, but he was also a gentleman horndog. Let me explain. George Washington’s gallant passions are all spelled out in decidedly non-lurid fashion in Ron Chernow’s book entitled Washington. Upon marrying that plump little vixen Martha (the richest widow in Virginia) in 1759, George Washington took the same derring-do he brought to the battlefield, to the bedroom. For example, George Washington braved great risk in conquering the fleshy desires of his new bride with the aphrodisiac Spanish Fly because, at that time, colonial Virginia was a No Fly Zone.   Read the rest of this entry »

• Silicon Valley’s premiere psychological recycling center for the burnt out tech worker
• Asylum-like residences in a luxurious clinical environment located on Alcatraz Island
• Patient-run since the uprising in 2014
• 1 and 2 bedroom cells available in 6 month or 1 year sentences

Our open air design encourages a free exchange of ideas.

Happily situated on “The Rock” in San Francisco Bay, Sanitarium Village Apartments are newly rehabilitated; just like you will be after your stay here. Our team of MotherBoard Certified clean room technicians will help defrag your central processing unit so you stop crashing. We’re like Mental Floss for your DOS. Our gated sanctuary is far, far away from the troubling demands of the binary mainland. The gates are designed to keep out the prying eyes of your company’s HR Dept., and, more importantly, to keep in the PTTD (Post Traumatic Tech Disorder) residents we supervise. Read the rest of this entry »

“But I thought…”

Despite exhibiting a grudging appreciation for today’s modern conveniences, many citizens have increasingly displayed a jaded resignation over the nauseating predictability of life’s uncontrollable events.

The Good

For example, going to a Jim Gaffigan comedy show should be great fun. And it is at one level, but attending this costly yuk fest is likely to break the bank and give you a not-so-humorous compound fracture of the funny bone. With all the attendant expenses this jaunty night out amounts to a $700 happening – $800 when you include convenience fees (that’s a euphemism for price gouging). The entire experience leaves one feeling like a cash cow that’s been milked of every cent in its pendulous udder. What was supposed to be a happy little yuk fest morphed into an expensive little yuck fest. Having unknown middlemen’s hands all up in your bursar sac is a violation of your private pouch and an affront to consensual purchases. It’s not so funny when your purse strings are plucked by innumerable unseen offenders who fantasize about anonymously tugging at your financial teat. All this for a comedy show?  – Hah, very funny. I don’t get it. And this is something people volunteer to do. Read the rest of this entry »

Tidy little bullet points. Creating an illusion of:
Ο Order
Ο Harmony
Ο Linear Perfection

Ο

Ο     

Ο     The sweet adage “Make love, not war” has been dismissed as an impractical pipe dream, but it does beg the question: Would we rather be at each other’s throats, or at each other’s gonads? And as I look around at my fellow man I think the answer is obvious. War it is!

Ο     It is often remarked by Culinary Anthropologists that some under-served populations do not have easy access to nutritious and affordable food. This condition is known as living in a food desert. For research-funding purposes however, this “condition” is sometimes rebranded as a “Food Desert Syndrome” – syndrome being a weighty term used by professors to in elevate “crappy grocery stores” to a social calamity so significant that they qualify for a National Science Foundation grant and can earn a 6-month sabbatical to study this self-created geography. Read the rest of this entry »

Now that I’ve passed on I want to share something with you. Of course you can believe me – both of my eyebrows are raised.

I think it’s always preferable to die of natural causes. Unnatural causes are so unhealthy and dying of supernatural causes is so Hollywood. Anyway I died of natural causes – too much bacon grease in the blood – and I’m here to give a quick report from the other side. I expired in the early morning hours of Saturday March 14^th just missing the unlucky Friday the 13^th by only a few hours – dodged that one. The non-alarmist hospital conveyed my expiration with subtle understatement by gently explaining to my wife Loretta, “It appears your husband has embarked on a nap from which there is no awakening.” Read the rest of this entry »

Hi antiquarians. I’m doing some genealogical research for the Keebler Co., and was hoping someone out there might know how Cookie Gilchrist and Cookie Rojas are related? Is it by recipe or in some other way? I don’t think it’s by recipe because it looks like they use very different ingredients.

Also where can I get a pair of Cookie’s designer athletic eyewear?

I found these 2 hiding in my computer’s memory with the rest of my cookies.

Dear Great Sky God, 

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 »

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 »