Archive for the ‘The Stories’ Category

When I needed a writers’ pick-me-up, I used to go running for the shelter of my Daddy’s Little Helper.

Sometimes, when you call a company and get their phone tree they robotically advise: “Please listen carefully as some of our options have changed.” OK, but that would assume I had memorized the original options. I didn’t. No one has – ever. I’m going to listen to the options because it’s the only way I can get to the Land of Oz. Or in this case ensure my electricity isn’t turned off.  ~ Passage written while under the influence of HFS.

The recently discovered field of High Fructose Storytelling (HFS) has astonished both farmers and writers alike. That this field was just lazily residing in my backyard is even more astonishing. But there it was, just out standing in its field. And that’s where I was – just out standing in my field, when I discovered it. Let me explain. Read the rest of this entry »

Isn’t life essentially one long monologue with yourself? I mean, I’m just saying…

It has been said by people smarter than me, that when you die, every building on the Registry of National Landmarks flashes before your eyes. Amazing! Who wouldn’t want to see all those historic erections just prior to expiring? Additionally, it’s been noted by people funnier than me that the Pope buys his special garments at the Vatican’s Big and Vain Shop. But enough talk about people who are smarter and funnier than me. After all, as many have said, there are so few. And yet this does have a lot to do with the price of tea in China because the unit price of Finely Cut Oolong Tea Leaves in Shanghai is set (through a process too complicated to explain here) by what people say about me. If you think that’s peculiar you should see how Madame du Barry prices blow jobs at the Chicken Ranch. Read the rest of this entry »

I wanna tell ya folks, I play golf in the 80’s. Any hotter I won’t play.

On Bob Hope’s deathbed in 2003 the Very Reverend Jesse Jackson was ministering to the 100 year old comedian. And as the good reverend turned his dusky gaze skyward he beseeched God to, “Keep Hope alive! Keep hope alive! God Almighty we must keep hope alive!”

That evening all the clocks in Bob’s hometown of Toluca Lake were set ahead 1 hour so Bob could fall forward one last time. As death’s shadow lurked nearby, Mr. Hope beckoned his physician to come close. The doctor placed his ear near Bob’s mouth and heard him haltingly express in a raspy voice, “Hey Doc…that Murine Ear Wax Removal system – you really should use it. Seriously Doc. Yuck.” 

Later that same evening Bob summoned Tony Danza who arrived fresh from a dinner theater engagement at The Velvet Turtle. The former Taxi and Who’s the Boss? star revered Mr. Hope and Bob had something of great importance to tell the streetsmart entertainer. Mr. Danza leaned over and placed his ear close to Bob’s mouth while Bob unburdened himself with a death bed confession of sorts:  Read the rest of this entry »

My dear Lydia. I just joke at a woman and she gets pregnant.

I was introduced to my future wife, Lydia Gamehen, by her sister Cornish, whom I met at a 2010 Toyotathon Sales Event. I was there to buy a Camry and Cornish was there to sweep the floor. You see Cornish was temporarily out of prison on a work-release program and as such she was a “free-range prisoner.” She’d been imprisoned for teaching Creationism at Harvard (funny how that works both ways). Anyway we chatted for a bit and I asked her what it was like to be a free-range Cornish Gamehen. “Are you stringier because you’re allowed to move about freely?”

She put her broom away and we went outside where she freely roamed the parking lot. “Y’know, you’re funny in a Pat Sajak kind of way,” she observed. “What’s your name?”

“Edsel. Edsel Lomax,” I stated.

“Well Ed, you should meet my sister Lydia. She hasn’t had a good laugh in years,” Cornish related. Read the rest of this entry »

Best Seats in the House for Free Can’t Stem the Tide of Fan Apathy. Above: The faithful showing up in drove for Sunday services. But wait! There’s hope.

Including the NFL, there are almost 1200 religions in the world. And except for the NFL, all are having difficulty filling their stadiums as disenchanted fans abandon their seats for more secular pursuits. Religions  are competing for an ever dwindling number of newcomers and are having a tough time with their sales pitch as potential recruits demand more than vague promises of security and rapture:

“The truth is ours,” says the Mennonite. And we immediately think, “Isn’t mennonite an element in the Periodic Table?”

“We desire nothing,” peaceably declares the Buddhist beautifully attracting us with their completion backwards principle.

“I am infallible.” The Pope decrees. And we immediately think, “That’s nice Mr. Pope, but I’m due back on the planet earth now.”

“Why am I even in this conversation,” sayeth the atheist. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m not sure what this is, but I really want to merge with it.

Absolute freedom exists in literature. One can write about the ridiculously small world of Quantum Mechanics or the ridiculously small world of Garage Mechanics. It’s a small world after all. It’s a small world after all (Sorry – this paragraph sponsored by Disney). We may write prose or poems. We may write about being a fly on the wall in the Oval Office who wishes he were an ant on the frosting of a same sex wedding cake. We may even write about a false prophet whose hard earned truths are showcased in his best-selling book “The Purpose Driven Cadillac.” 

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Yes, one may conjure innumerable esoteric permutations of charming lterary expression, but the following story is not for mindless snacking. Nope. We need to graduate from the deceptively empty calories of: Read the rest of this entry »

That noble ascetic Roald Amundsen. My frigid companion who twice led me to the South Pole. Once in 1911 and then again in 1911.

It happened quite naturally – like light waves propagating from a source or Meryl Streep getting an Oscar nomination or, in this case, yours truly gaining access to his past lives. With faith in the precept that those who fail to heed history are doomed to repeat it, I’d resolved to learn from my past and apply it to the future. I had beseeched God regularly for access to my past lives and he finally sent my guardian angel Cyrus to facilitate the matter. Although I really think God just wanted me to stop pestering him so he could address more pressing issues like the possibility of a Rocky 7 movie. I even had the audacity (chutzpah if I was Jewish) to request access to my future incarnations, but Cyrus reminded me, “You can’t see what hasn’t happened yet.”

“What about the movie Back to the Future,” I queried?

“Listen David. Don’t be so cute. We can arrange for you to pass a kidney stone very easily. Is that what you want?” Cyrus warned.

“Well yes,” I affirmed. “I mean if I have to pass a kidney stone, I would like to pass it very easily.”

“David, you try my patience,” Cyrus intoned.

“Oh really? Well you should try mine some time,” I countered.

“Do you want to see your past lives or not?” an exasperated Cyrus declared.

“Yes, yes of course I do,” I exclaimed. Read the rest of this entry »

“Anything to hide this Katherine Hepburn neck of mine.” M. Talleyrand

Very rarely am I blindsided and tickled pink by a literary passage that packs the unintentionally humorous punch of a Linear Particle Accelerator. Such was the case when this unsuspecting reader was suddenly seized by a powerfully jocular elation; when all he really wanted to do was drift off gently to safe and restful sleep, sleep, sleep. Allow me to set the scene. It’s late evening and I’m reading in bed prior to an early morning shift at the local satis factory (yes, we manufacture satis). As my pursuit of Early American history is unquenchable, I’m curled up to an esoteric and anecdotally superb book called  Beauties and Celebrities of the Nation which describes the social life of Washington DC during the early Presidential administrations. In this particular chapter, George Washington’s administration (which in 1794 was located in Philadelphia pending the construction of our new Capitol in DC) is being surveyed. Read the rest of this entry »

Finally! A watch that always tells the correct time.

Be it ever so humble there’s no place like Now. In fact, it’s the only place there is. Time wise you can’t be any other place else. Forget Greenwich Mean Time or Daylight Savings Time or even Hammer Time. There is only one time you can actually be at and that time is Now. Of course there’s a future known as “Soon” and a past known as “Then”, but you can only refer to those times. You can’t actually be there because of the inescapability of Now. Now is everywhere, forever yoking us to its immediacy. It never stops. Now is both obsolete and reborn every instant. It repopulates as soon as it’s able to like fruit flies or Mormons. Read the rest of this entry »

Dubious representation of first Thanksgiving. Note absence of NFL game.

Why did the Pilgrims journey from England to Plymouth Rock? And more to the point, how did Americans get from Plymouth Rock to ribbed cranberry sauce thwocked onto a plate straight from the can? These are questions I hope to address one day in a thoughtful essay on the topic. Meanwhile, I hope you’ve brought an appetite for extravagant history as I serve up the rich saga of the Pilgrim’s progress featuring healthy dollops of mashed truths and stuffed with agonizing analogies. Note: For those readers on a on a sodium restricted diet I’ve written this version with the salty language removed. Read the rest of this entry »