A Little Bit of Learning

 The following is just what I remember from being a nerd who read a lot when he was a teenager because he was too shy to date girls.  Little did this bashful teenager know that he would go on to marry three women who shared outrageously low standards in men.

Which always seemed odd to me
as I considered myself a bit of a hottie.

    Steven Grover Cleveland was born on March 18, 1837 in the town of Caldwell, New Jersey, near the New Jersey Turnpike.  His parents preferred to call him "Grover," because they could not agree on whether to spell his first name "Stephen" or "Steven."

NOTE:  This may not be true.

Of course, they may have thought differently
had they been able to see into the future.

NOTE:  This, too, is wild conjecture.

    After serving a term as President of the 1855 senior class at Caldwell High School (home of the unfortunately named 'Fighting Rebels'), young Grover developed a taste for politics.

NOTE:  Yeah, definitely not true.  Why do you keep bothering? 

"Unfortunate because of the coming Civil War."
"Ohhhhhhhhh,  Wanna go cow-tipping?"

    Grover went on to become Mayor of Buffalo.

NOTE:  Although true (surprise!), I don't remember how he went from New Jersey to New York.

    Later, he became Governor of New York.

NOTE:  Also true.  I'm on a roll!

    Finally, he secured the 1884 nomination of the Democratic Party for President and went on to defeat James Blaine.  By doing so, he became the first Democrat to win the presidency since James Buchanan.  

"I apparently set the standard for 'suck.' 
But, hey, I'm dead.  So up yours."

    Unfortunately (well, for him.  I don't care), Cleveland, despite winning the popular vote, lost the electoral vote and the presidency to Benjamin Harrison in 1888.

"Hmm...won the popular vote but lost the electoral vote. 
That sounds familiar."

      However, since Harrison achieved a Buchanan level of suck, Cleveland won the presidency back in 1892.

"Naw, it was the beard.  People hated the beard."

    Cleveland was noted for his views on self-reliance, integrity, commitment to classic liberalism, and fondness for the Daily Jumble in the Washington Post.

NOTE:  Okay, that last bit probably isn't true.  I seriously can't help myself.

    He was an anti-imperialist who was against the annexation of Hawaii because he was allergic to pineapples.

"Plus, I bet he would've hated tiny bubbles.  In da wine."

    He was a strong supporter of the gold standard, was against corruption, and gave his name to an Ohio city on Lake Erie.

NOTE:  Yeah, that definitely isn't true.

    However, the Panic of 1893 plunged the United States into a severe depression.  Whether rightly or wrongly (I can't remember), American voters determined that Democrats should never hold the reins of power again and gave the presidency of 1896 to the Republican, William McKinley.

  Thinking "Screw it," Cleveland left Washington.   

NOTE:  Actually, his health was deteriorating during his presidency.  Fighting cancer, he probably knew he was in no shape to run for office again (he actually could have-restrictions to a president serving more than two terms were many decades away).

    Grover Cleveland died of a heart attack in Princeton, New Jersey (a-ha!  Back to Jersey) in 1908.

Which would explain this on the Jersey Turnpike.

   You may be wondering why I chose to write about a relatively unremarkable president.

Although, compared to Chester Arthur, he was Abraham Lincoln.

    Well, Grover Cleveland was the only man in American history to have been elected to two non-consecutive terms as president.

    Until last week.

"And I approve of this message."

"Beard don't look so bad now, does it?"

The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month

 

     Happy Veterans Day!

    I know most of you are expecting my typical wise-guy approach (for those of who aren’t, what have you been reading?).  Most of the time I oblige because there’s a lot of the ludicrous in our lives (if you think I’m wrong, just remember:  Donald Trump's hair). 

    This one time, though, no wisecracks, no innuendos, no witty asides.  In a break from my usual “shtick,” I’m going to play it straight and briefly speak on the significance of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

    NOTE:  Okay, one wisecrack.  Aren’t “innuendos” Italian suppositories?

    On November 11th, 1918, the Germans surrendered to the Allied powers in the Forest of Compiegne, ending what was then known as the Great War.  Little did they know there would be a sequel nearly 21 years later.

    But that’s another story.

    The following November, noted scold and racist President Woodrow Wilson declared that “Armistice Day” would henceforth be observed in honor of those who had fallen during the “war to end all wars” (kinda dropped the ball with THAT one, didn’t we?).

    Following the Second World War (the “good” war, an oxymoron if I ever heard one), the town of Emporia, Kansas changed “Armistice” to “Veterans” Day.  The idea was to honor everyone who had served in the armed forces rather than only those who’d fought against the Kaiser.

    As the years went by, the idea of setting a special day aside for veterans took hold throughout the nation.  In 1954, Congress made the name change official while President Eisenhower called on all Americans to observe the day.  But, surprisingly, it took until 1971 for Richard Nixon to declare it a federal holiday.

    In the years since, it’s become little more than an excuse to hold blowout sales on everything from bed linen to used cars (“Buy this Chevy because Patton would have wanted you to.”).  Ceremonies marking the day have been lost in the madcap frenzy of pre-Christmas commercialism.  In fact, what was once a universal day off has turned into pretty much a “federal government employees only” respite.

    It’s like Columbus Day that way.

    I don’t have a problem with this, per se, if it was still recognized for the solemn event that it is.  After all, Veterans Day is much more than sleeping in late and watching Sponge Bob Squarepants in your pajamas while wolfing down a bowl of “Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs.”

    Unfortunately, many people don’t even know what Veterans Day is all about.  While at work on a November 11^th many years ago, I was flabbergasted when the morning announcements proclaimed Veterans Day merely as a “day to recognize older people who had a lot of experience.”

    What!?  Now, I don’t wish to denigrate Grandpa’s fly-fishing prowess and, boy howdy, ain’t it cool that Great-Aunt Tilly can knit a quilt with her feet, but c’mon!  Since when is bowling a perfect game the same as convoy duty in Afghanistan?  Quick answer-it’s not.

    As a result, I spent the balance of the day quizzing my coworkers on whether they knew what put the “veteran” in Veterans Day.  Sadly, I was depressed by their appalling lack of knowledge, as very few of them actually understood what all the fuss was about.  But, you can bet your bottom dollar they knew who the frontrunners were on “Dancing With the Stars.”

    Shocking as it was, I know they weren’t the only ones who had no clue that the 11th of November was different than any other day.  It goes without saying there’s a need to set a few things straight. 

    So, I call on all of us who know better to teach others about Veterans Day.  Urge those around you to take a moment to remember our veterans and those who are still in harm’s way.

    You don’t have to go to a flag-raising ceremony, attend a parade, or even buy one of those “Buddy Poppies” (although I do, because I enjoy talking to those guys).  You don’t have to agree on this war or that war and you certainly don’t have to watch The Sands of Iwo Jima at attention.

    If nothing else, reflect on the service of all those who have worn, and continue to wear, our nation’s uniform.  From Lexington to Kabul, they deserve our respect and our thanks.

    As a veteran myself, I salute them all.

 

Youthful Extortion

    

    I love Halloween.

    Yes <<sigh>> I know, I know...it’s a holiday allegedly drenched in Satanic roots replete with all sorts of horrifying images meant to invoke fear in mortals: ghosts, goblins, witches, Donald Trump, blah, blah, blah.

"If I was a costume, I'd be the most excellent costume
in America, if I can be honest.  And I'm orange."

"Okay, he's gotta point about that orange thing."

    Rather than surrender to the Dark Lord (or is that Barack Obama?), the politically correct observe the holiday via “Fall Parades”, “Autumn Parties”, or “Insert-Festive-Name-Here Celebrations.”

    The hand-wringing crowd also prefers that children not dress up as traditional spooky characters; instead, they like to see non-threatening alter-egos such as “Insurance Salesman”, “Foot Doctor”, “Blue Man Group,” or “White Dudes For Harris.”

Seriously, if this walked up to my front door,
I'd be scared as shit.

    Oh, c’mon!  I took my kids to pre-HALLOWEEN (there now, I said it!) celebrations many years ago and not once did I sense the icy grip of Lucifer on their pillowcases full of Snickers and Jolly Ranchers.  Somehow, I find it hard to believe that the Devil resides in clowns and ballerinas.

    Extortionist Trick-Or-Treating aside, it’s just a fun day for kids to dress up and go pandering door to door for goodies (in which case, they should dress up as Vladimir Zelensky).  I’m not going to begrudge them a chance to have fun just because some simpering idiots think the day glorifies evil.

    Halloween was a big deal to us when we were kids.  I remember planning what we were going to wear and where we were going to visit soon after school started.  I even recall the costumes I wore:  Superman, Green Hornet, Spiderman (yes, even then), Hulk, Frankenstein, Mummy, “Glow-In-The-Dark Skeleton”, Underdog, and (the one that really never caught on) “Criminally Insane Druggist.”

Although, Billy Mezick was never able to pull off his
combination of Count Dracula and Abraham Lincoln.

    Unlike nowadays, we were never bird-dogged by our parents as we ran like scatterbrains through our neighborhoods, feasting on insane amounts of chocolate.

    We knew the unwritten Halloween codes: only go to houses with their lights on, be on the lookout for needles in your Milky Ways, don’t bother with the convent, and take only one piece of candy from the bowl of those too lazy to hand them out themselves (always followed THAT rule).

 

And never NEVER go to Mr. Mraz's house.
NOTE: I'm using a picture of Mr. Herbert from "Family Guy" because I don't want to copy a picture off the internet and insinuate that he is what I'm insinuating.  Thank you for your understanding.

    Oh, and fling eggs at the houses of those who dared to hand out:  apples, popcorn balls, toothbrushes, pennies, and ketchup packets.

"Nature's candy," my ass.

    My friends and I couldn’t get enough of what we saw as a great deal.  So, from six o’clock (or dark-it HAD to be dark) until ten, we went knocking on doors in the hope that we’d score enough candy that our arms would go numb from lugging around our sacks (Of CANDY!  Keep it clean!).

    Since we went to Catholic School, we had an additional good deal because the next day was All Saints Day.  To those “in the club”, so to speak, that meant that November 1st was a “Holy Day of Obligation” and so, was a day off from school.

    Actually, our “holy obligation” was to shove candy down our throats when we got home, wake up, eat some Sugar Smacks, inhale more Three Musketeers, watch cartoons, and make fun of the public school kids as they trudged off to class.

This approach tended to backfire come November 2nd.

    As long as we thanked Jesus.

    My point is, what’s so wrong with a holiday that gives children a chance to play dress up, carve pumpkins, and gorge themselves on goodies which are doomed to become petrified lumps of sugar in a bag on top of the refrigerator?

    Nothing.

    After all, Satan doesn’t like Peanut M&Ms.

"On behalf of the blonde lady who lives with me-I hear she's a doctor-HAPPY GROUNDHOG DAY, everyone!  No joke."

Goodbye Columbus

     I love October.  

    The air is redolent (1. (adj) red-o-lent:  strongly reminiscent or suggestive of...thought this was a good time to use one of my high school vocab words.  You're welcome) with the sweet aroma of burning leaves, high school gridirons thunder with the sound of fiercely-waged contests to push that pigskin across the goal line, Christmas lights-incredibly-start going up, and early-morning frosts warn of the coming winter.

    October also gives us a chance to celebrate the exploits of an intrepid band of explorers who set sail from Barcelona in search of a western route to the fabulous wealth of the East (yeah, going west to get east doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, either).

"Thisa boat?  She no going nowhere til you sitta you assa down!"

    In other words, the tenth month gives us a chance to bemoan the rape and pillage of a pristine wilderness by evil, white, European males who wouldn’t know a bar of soap if it smacked them in the heads.

    So, in recognition of their accomplishments, mailmen get the day off and shopping malls trot out their very best Columbus Day displays of bed linen (“Just imagine how comfy the Santa Maria would have been if Chris and the boys only had these sheets!!”).

    As a holiday, though, Columbus Day really doesn’t rank up there with the Big Four of Hanukkah, Christmas, New Years, and Boxing Day.  It doesn’t draw in the romantics like Valentines Day, the patriots like the 4th of July, or even the drunks like St. Patrick’s Day.

Faith Ann Begorra

    More times than not, we hardly know it’s happened until the evening news greets us with, “Happy Columbus Day!  Too bad you hadda go to work!  Ha, ha, ha!”

    My family has for many years celebrated each holiday, no matter how innocuous.  For example, on Presidents’ Day, we used to dress up as our favorite Commanders in Chief until my brother spoiled it for everyone a few years ago when, dressed as Joe Biden, he got arrested after sniffing some Cub Scouts.

"That was me?  I thought they were Brownies.  No joke."

    For some reason, though, we never did much to celebrate the day in 1492 when Ferdinand and Isabella’s favorite Genoan set foot in the New World and proclaimed, “What the frik you mean this isn’t China!?"

    In order to make it easier for everyone to properly observe one of the most significant accomplishments in world history (right behind invention of “The Clapper”), might I offer the following ways to celebrate Columbus Day:

10.  Slash the tires of those obnoxious, know-it-all “Vikings were here first!” punks at the Leif Eiriksson Community Center.

9.   Try to convince anyone that parrots, monkeys, and coconuts are just as valuable as jewels, gold, and silk.

8.   Go to the local tribal casino, extend a heartfelt apology, drop a bundle at the craps table.

7.   Put on a wrinkled raincoat, chew on a cigar, try to figure out who put the poison in Miss Van Dyver’s highball.

Oops.  That's COLUMBO Day.

6.   Grab some library books, draw moustaches on pictures of Amerigo Vespucci.

"Hey, you snooze, you lose.  Eff Columbus."

5.   Bring Christianity to your neighbors at the point of a gun before selling them into slavery, claim your street for your family, pass out blankets riddled with smallpox to the homeless, and shake down passers-by, insisting they tell you where their gold is.

"Bring it!  Infidel."

4.   Go to a Chinese restaurant dressed as Columbus, walk in, and shout, “So, HERE’s where you people were all hiding!”

3.   Forward a petition to the city council demanding equal time with Labor Day.

2.   With your friends, build a scaled-down replica of Columbus’s fleet, drift aimlessly on the town pond, claim YWCA summer camp for Spain.

1.   Once more dressed as Columbus, visit a deforested national park (or strip mine), issue “Ooops, my bad!” statement to the press.

    There now, I hope this list inspires you to do something other than complain when you can’t use the drive-up window at the bank. 

    But, if it’ll make you feel better, go get yourself a cannoli.

    Chris would’ve wanted it that way.

 ********     

    Oh, by the way, today is also Thanksgiving.

Canadian Thanksgiving anyway, eh?

  As Martin Frobisher would have said, “Sure, it makes more sense than eating outside in Massachusetts in November, but don’t you think you could’ve thrown in a four-day weekend like the United States?”

"Who's Martin Frobisher? 
Does he have anything to do with Aleppo?"

    Okay, this joke may be a little dated.  But, at least some of you may not know what Martin Frobisher has to do with Canadian Thanksgiving.  Fewer of you may know who the guy above is (with the exception of Liz from Laws of Gravity.  She being a teacher and all that).

    Anyway, enjoy whichever day it is.  You Australians?  Can't help you.  Just enjoy the weather getting nicer.

Secret Agent Caulk

 

Alex Flex
Can save the world
And caulk your crown moulding

This May Be In Poor Taste

     After my last post, I needed to go a little silly today.  I'm done with all the serious political crap, especially since my mind has been made up.

    I wrote-in against you, Orange Dude.

"RIGGED!!!!!!"

    Anyway, this may be in poor taste, but it tickled me when I drove into the supermarket parking lot.

With Halloween fast approaching, some folks are getting their costumes ready. 
This lady, for instance, has decided to dress as one of the Sand People from Star Wars.

  

"Was that wrong?  Should I not have said that?"

Two Things Can Be Right

    I hesitated to write this, because I know some people will be shocked.

    Early voting in Virginia opened on September 20^th.  I voted on the 24^th.  The reason I voted early is because I will working at the polls on Election Day.  Since I won’t be in my assigned precinct, I won’t be able to leave during the day.

    I would have gone early in any event, because God knows the circus sideshow it will be come November 5^th.   Weather, equipment “malfunctions,” or any number of shenanigans from either side…yeah, I won’t want any part of that.

    For those of you saying. “Well, golly, Ken, if you’re there ON Election Day, won’t you be impacted by the very things you’re worried about?”  To you I say, not really, because I’ll be safe inside.  Although, I can’t discount the almost certainty that we’ll have to deal with some crazies inside.

Okay, this is Black Friday.

"Friday of Color."

Well, it'll be close, is what I'm saying.

    Since I’ll be helping curbside voters, bad weather could be a factor, I suppose.  However, since I won’t have to be driving in it (with the exception of getting there at 4:45 am), I’m not worried.  Yes, the internet could go out or pipes could “mysteriously” burst, but that would be a game day problem.

    I thought that going early would shield me from a long line and, thus, long wait.  I’m here to tell you, though, that nothing could be farther from the truth.  Even as early as I went, I had to wait close to an hour.

    I can only imagine how the wait will be in November.

    Even so, I was a little uneasy.  As is common practice throughout the nation, partisans of this political party or that are stationed at least 40 feet away to hand out campaign literature and, frankly, harangue those of us in line.

    Not for nothin’, if you haven’t made up your mind by the time you get there, you have real problems.

    Can you imagine?  “You know, I was going to vote ‘X.’ But, boy howdy, you’ve convinced me!  I’m voting ‘Y’!”

    One particular individual (neither Republican nor Democrat) was especially vocal in his denunciation of those presently in charge.  And, by “vocal,” I mean “obnoxious.”  He also was wearing a handgun on his hip.

Apparently, it's legal. 
But, just because you can do something, does not mean you should do something.   
FULL DISCLOSURE:  I own a couple weapons myself and have a Concealed Carry Permit.

    Anyway, he caught the ire of a lady handing out her own party’s literature and being equally “vocal” to innocent voters (I don’t know which party she represented and it doesn’t matter).  They began chirping at each other and I thought blows were fixing to be exchanged.  They really got into each other’s faces as I nervously inched closer to the “Forty Foot Demarcation Line.”

    A man several people behind me scolded them, saying, “You know, it’s people like you who’ve brought this country into the sorry state it is.”

    I don’t know which party he belonged to, either, and it really doesn’t matter.  Unless he’s a member of the “Grownup Party.”  Because he was absolutely right.

    At that point, I knew that my experience on the actual Election Day would be a real zoo.

"I love the zoo, no joke! 
Maybe afterwards, Dr. Jill can take me for some ice cream!"

    Okay, how did I vote, the two of you reading this may be wondering?  To be honest, I’ve gone round and round on this issue for months.  To possibly tick off some of you, there was no way on this planet I would ever support Kamala Harris.  How a woman who didn’t earn a single primary vote accuse her opponent of being a “threat to democracy” is mind-blowing.

    I wish people would stop kidding themselves by thinking she would have weathered a primary process.

    Plus, she’s an imbecile.

"From the middle class, m'kay?"

   No sense trying to convince me otherwise.

    So, that left me with Donald Trump.  I debated with myself whether I should go “Team Orange” as the lesser of two evils.  It was the toughest thing I’ve had to struggle with since I started voting (for Gerald Ford) in 1976.  When all was said and done, though, I still would be voting for evil.

"Fire and brimstone are that way.  Believe me, it's the most excellent
damnation you'll find anywhere."

    Still, I’m a Conservative (not a Republican) and felt that he should be “my guy.”  Then, he’d sell a pair sneakers or post “I hate Taylor Swift” on Truth Social.

Dear Lord, to say nothing of this.

    And I’d go all wobbly again.

    I get what the other side represents, though, and it horrifies me.  That said, I can appreciate the dilemma of those who see Kamala as the alternative to (who they perceive as) the Anti-Christ.  Their “lesser of two evils” could very well be the Cackler.  I understand and respect their position.

    On the other hand, there are those who have always voted Democrat and will always vote Democrat, because the media tells them so.  Even if their “guy” was Satan.  The same goes for lockstep Republicans. 

    Those people are knuckleheads.

    So, I decided that, while I hope Republicans win, Donald Trump will have to do it without my vote.  I can’t ever imagine a scenario where he loses by one or the contest is tied.  In which case, the whole shebang will go the House of Representatives.

    If that happens, I’ll feel very badly.  But, there’s a better chance of the New York Giants winning the Super Bowl.

    So, what did I do?  I wrote in “Ron De Santis.”

"So you're telling me there's a chance?"

    

    Yes, I realize that it was a wasted voted.  Okay, sue me.  But, I wanted to be true to myself and not cast my support to a man who sells his own trading cards.  It's my vote and I'll vote how I want to.

    Please resist the urge to tell me how I was wrong or why I should have voted for him or her.  That doesn’t matter, either, because, as Julius Caesar said when he crossed the Rubicon, “The die is cast!,” or “Let the dice fly!”

Or he may have said, "Hey, did you check out the jugs on that Gaul?"
Sources are unclear

    My point is, the deed is done.

    Because…

    Kamala Harris and Donald Trump.

    In my opinion…are both massively unfit to be our president.

    Two things can be right, ya know.