- In Rouen, France every child has been on the road to Rouen.
- Are nephews allowed in Nice?
- A French tailor left my pants Toulon and Toulouse.
- In France they eat well – nothing comes from a Cannes.
- I see London, I see France, I see Putin’s sycophants
- If you’re short on Euros, you lack Monet.
- People love the Louvre. They say, “Live and let Louvre.”
- If Paul Gauguin and Vincent Van Gogh were one painter, he would be Paulcent Van Goghguin.
The Snickers Galaxy – Similar to our Milky Way Galaxy, except it’s packed with peanuts and really satisfies
- The Ford Galaxie – Why a ’68 Ford is orbiting Neptune is the biggest mystery of all. One would expect to see a Nova or even a Chevy Super Nova. But a Ford Galaxie?
- Sister galaxy to the Andromeda Galaxy, the Andromedary Galaxy is shaped like a giant camel toe.
- The Star of David – This legendary star makes 6 good points, none of which I can remember. Oy vey!
- Kate Upton/Channing Tatum – Evidently the telescope was turned back toward the earth for images of these 2 heavenly bodies
- White Holes – They’re just like Black Holes only more privileged
- Orbit City – The home of the Space Age Jetson’s clan has been located. However the telescope is looking back so far in time, that after we meet George Jetson, we see Jane, his wife, is pregnant with daughter Judy. And Elroy is nowhere to be seen.
- The LGBTQIA? Galaxy – Most astronomers say the stars were born that way. A few astronomers say the LGBTQIA? Galaxy is just choosing to be that way.
- The Marilyn McCoo Galaxy – Where ♫You don’t have to be a star baby, to be in my show.♫
- The James Webb Telescope Mission Statement: Keir Dullea…Gone Tomorrow
- Needless Falls at Harbinger’s Ferry
- Varicose Vineyards
- Grave Errors at Dirt Nap Gardens
- The Mausoleum at Hospital Corners
- Blue Hair Acres at The Strand
- Flatline Terrace at Defibrillator Manor
- Distant Memories at Amnesia Acres
- The Golf Course at Soylent Greens
- Organ Harvest Farms
- The Preserve at Embalmers Square
- The Last Resort Resort
- The Heights of Absurdity at Strawberry Fields
Oh the Treasures to Be Found in the Wee, Small Hours of the Morning
Where to begin. It’s 1978. Jimmy Carter is in the White House. The disco hit Boogie Oogie Oogie has us shaking our booties till we just can’t boogie no more. Streaming services are something offered only by a urologist. And yours truly is a wide-eyed 17-year old luxuriating in the endless summer between high school graduation and the start of college.
Having been sprung like a jailbird from the confines of Henninger High School in Syracuse, NY, I felt the dizzying freedom an inmate must feel after serving their sentence and being released into the good graces of society. I had served my sentence – 12 long years (as opposed to the “short” ones?). And I believe I served my sentence with some distinction and even got time off for good behavior since I graduated after the 11th grade (woo-hoo!).
This rite of passage complete, any future schooling would be pursued on my terms. I would no longer be a burden to society. In the future, it would be a burden on me. But for now I was happy to navigate in this once in a lifetime twilight zone between high school and college. It seemed bizarre that having dearly earned the sweet release from mandatory public schooling and its free education, I would now immediately plunge voluntarily right back into it, and even pay my own way for the privilege. God works in mysterious ways, and so does higher education.
I mention all this by way of establishing set and setting for what was to be my 1978 Summer of Otherworldly Delights. It was a pleasantly disruptive time for me. One I looked forward to with dizzying anticipation. Up until this point in my life I’d always known what I’d be doing the next year. My GPS had come from the factory with the route of my formative years all mapped out till graduation, upon which it uttered the now commonplace phrase, “You have arrived?”
Really? That was it. That was the journey. Someone or something thinks I have arrived? Well OK boomer. Freed from the restraints of compulsory education, I could now plug in the GPS coordinates of my choice and travel there as I saw fit. This is the freedom everyone so dearly seeks. This is what it felt like in 1978. My choices would be limited only by my imagination and, of course, that sabotaging little voice inside that reminds you, “Oh, you couldn’t possibly aspire to that.”
Four Foremost Factors, Poorly Ranked
Long term I didn’t know what would occupy me, but in that short term summer I had fertile little plans gestating happily in my still maturing frontal lobes. First and foremost there would be, “no more pencils, no more books, no more teachers dirty looks.” In truth school wasn’t that bad, but I was glad the compulsory part of it was over and I was ready to move on.
Second and not foremost, I would work. Circumstances were such that I could be productively plugged into gainful employment whenever I chose to work (which was often) at our family glass and mirror business. A business my divorced, disinterested and dithering dad ran with all the aplomb of a dust bunny. I had developed a fondness for its mom and pop retail charms as well as an appreciation of its minor commerce with major players like Carrier, Conrail and GM’s Terex heavy equipment division. Anyway, the upshot of my unexceptional work ethic was that I enjoyed my time with dad and always had a little walkin’ around money.
Third and still not foremost, the “little plans” that I mentioned included one big plan. A strange and wonderful plan catalyzed by my new found freedom and a penchant for out-of-this-world experiences. I resolved to dissolve into the nocturnal abyss and share in the treasures to be found in the wee, small hours of the morning. This would be undertaken in the still of the night within the eerie confines of nearby and dear by Sunnycrest Park.
Fourth and kinda foremost without actually being foremost, my other plans that summer included playing pick-up basketball games, visiting with friends and moving my mother out of our top floor flat at the end of August when I was off to college and she off to a posh one bedroom apartment closer to her work in downtown Syracuse. With mommy lacking any extra rooms, and daddy sleeping on a cot and living in the back of the glass shop and unable to provide adequate shelter for anyone (not even himself), the umbilical cord was cut and I was now an emancipated child at 17. Read the rest of this entry »
Sank You Very Much – Great ship but usually found at the bottom of the ocean
- Heroine On Board – The Coast Guard is always stopping this ship owned by Wonder Woman Gal Gadot
- The Lima, the Piñto and the Santa Garbanzo – Sailed by Christopher Legumebus
- LGBT QE2 – That is one royal party ship
- The USS Raymond Burr – The other “Old Ironside”
- HMS Brawny – Sister ship to the HMS Bounty
- HMS Corgi – Sister ship to the HMS Beagle
- Andriadorable – Way cuter than the Andrea Doria
- The Lucidtania – A clearer thinking version of the Lusitania
- What’s Your Cap Size – Worst double entendre ever
- Titanic II – With Global Warming there are very few icebergs to avoid
- Listing Heavily – Corporate ship of Craig’s List
People never have to leave home now. They can be home-birthed, home-schooled and work from home. They can have meals and groceries home-delivered.
If they get sick – homeopathy.
All their friends – homies.
All their hits – homers.
They can even visit the Great Outdoors by sitting on their ovens where they’re Home, Home on the Range.
Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.
- New England Damn Chowder – Favorite soup of Tourette sufferers
- Cyrillic Alphabet Soup – It’s Greek to me
- Split Bee – It hear it gives you a buzz
- Chicken Poodle Soup – Made only from poodles who were euthanized
- Vicious-soise – A stone cold soup made from really mean potatoes
- Gaznacho – Another cold soup of congealed cheese and tomato
- Maxistrone – When minestrone just isn’t enough
- Italian Wedding Soup/Italian Divorce Soup – These soups have you coming and going
- Dense Onion Soup – It’s a French Onion Soup, you just can’t get through to
- Me So Soup – This soup is all about you. Also called Narcissisoup.
- No Alarm Chili – Chili for white folk
- Lobster Disc – A hard shell, hard drive programmable bisque
- Walla Walla, Washington now Stuttgart Stuttgart, Washington
- Shakespeare’s birthplace now Stuttgart-upon-Avon
- Muslims would now make their annual pilgrimage to Stuttgart.
- Plane ticketing would be very tricky, but at least you’d never land in the wrong city
- More conversations would sound like this:
Where you from?
Really! Me too.
- Truth or Consequences, NM now Stuttgart or Stuttgarts, NM
- Bombay, India now Mumstuttgart, India
- The Sinatra hit New York, New York now New Stuttgart, New Stuttgart
So where have you lived?
Well I was born in Stuttgart, but I was an Army brat so we pretty much moved from Stuttgart to Stuttgart
We honeymooned in Stuttgart Falls.
Oh, it’s beautiful there. That’s near Stuttgart isn’t it?
No, you’re thinking of the one on the Canadian side.
10. A Gambler’s Complaint:
I’m so pissed off about the World Series. I can’t believe Stuttgart beat Stuttgart. I mean Stuttgart had all the players and yet Stuttgart still won. I hate Stuttgart.
11. Reworked city of Rome phrases:
Well, Stuttgart wasn’t built in a day
When in Stuttgart do as the Stuttgartans do
All roads lead to Stuttgart
12. And finally, Fairbanks, Alaska would still be a miserably cold place to live in
As they say, “There’s a lot to unpack here.” But my stuff will never get unpacked. How can it? I have way too much baggage. You too? I thought so. I’m not worried though and neither should you, because eventually it all gets put in its place. Fraught, little David may experience pangs of free floating anxiety at his mountains of baggage to be dealt with, but serene, knowing David is completely equanimous about his barrage of baggage. More baggage, I might add, than can be found on Carousel 8 at LAX International Terminal after an Airbus 380 unloads its baggage hold for its 525 passengers. That’s a lot of baggage and a lot to unpack. So let’s start.
You may wonder how you produced so much baggage to begin with. I mean you were just going for one lifetime on planet earth. It was advertised as a 28,000 day, 27,999 night, no expense paid trip to the 3rd rock from the sun, but somehow you managed to pack enough for 3 lifetimes. And now you’re stuck with all this baggage. And because of the profligate manner in which you spent your onboard ship credits (Free Will), you managed to produce a whole other lifetime of karmic baggage. You forgot rule number one: when you’re in a hole, stop digging. Well at least you were smart enough to avoid the Time Share sales pitch. You were smart enough to avoid that right? Don’t tell me you’re going to do a 2-hour Time Share sales pitch – well, more baggage for you. I just think you could’ve invested your time more wisely.
This idea of “stop digging” is akin to the doctor’s creed of “First do no harm.” And as this pertains to the traveler’s journey here on earth the creed should be, “First, just bring what you need – which is nothing. Well nothing but an open heart and a closed mouth. And stop producing more baggage. Jesus Christ! Can’t your stuck mind be a little more flexible?” We wish it was that easy. But who among us isn’t guilty of trying to shape our world to suit us and consequently produce more baggage than Samsonite does in a year.
Oh, d-d-dear. What’s to be done about all this unbidden baggage? It feels like there are 1200 separate Pandora’s Boxes in my head. Who would want to open them, let alone unpack them? Let’s examine quickly the schemes and plans I’ve hatched to rid myself of unwanted baggage: Maybe Goodwill will take it. Maybe if I ignore it, it will just go away. Maybe if I get rich enough I can distract myself for an entire lifetime so I don’t really notice my challenges while I focus on fun stuff like writing clever little essays or choosing just the right tone for my spray tan or binge-watching Real Housewives of Cell Block H – Yuk! In all cases, never underestimate the power of distraction. Read the rest of this entry »