Stuff and Nonsense

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.

Winter Is Coming

But not before the leaves

At 8:44 AM (EDT), we welcome the return of Autumn, also known as “Fall” (as in “Fall of Leaves.” You’re welcome).

NOTE: The fact that the timing of Fall centers around Eastern Daylight Time is a bit East Coast-centric, don’tcha think? What’s more, the fact we call it “Fall” is Northern Hemisphere-centric, don’tcha think?

Atmospheric Fall (or Atmospheric Spring, for those south of the equator. G’day, Mates) occurs when the sun is directly above an equatorial point 461nm South-Southwest of Monrovia, Liberia.

"Liberia is a small country, okay? In a big continent called 'Africa,' okay?
I don't know whether they have a middle class, but I'm sure they do.
Which is how I grew up, okay?"

ANOTHER NOTE: Why 461 miles southwest of Liberia? I don’t know. I mean it would make more sense if that equated to Zero degrees Longitude, or Greenwich Mean Time, but, it doesn’t. It’s all just random to me. If one of the two of you reading this knows the answer, please let me know. To be honest, though, I don’t much care.

NOTE FOLLOWING THE NOTE: We take this moment for those who are products of the American public school system: Monrovia, Liberia, is the capital city of the African nation of Liberia. Now the topic of Liberia is a post for another time. Suffice to say it was the region of Africa to which American slaves were shipped during the presidency of…James Monroe.

"Pretty frikkin' clever, huh?"

To those technical in nature (i.e., nerds), today also marks the first day of the “Autumnal Equinox.” This is a Latin phrase (thank you, Romans!): “Autumnal” for “Autumn” (duh) and “Equinox” for “Equal Night.”

"Hey, any time!"

Basically, what this means is that today we will have an equal number of daylight and nighttime hours. This, actually, is a gross oversimplification of reality. For instance, among other things, it doesn’t take into account the concept of twilight.

Wrong twilight

There’s a whole bunch of other scientific mumbo-jumbo about why daylight and nighttime aren’t really equal, but I didn’t feel like reading it with my eyes glazed over.

Plus, football’s nearly on.

Or whatever the Giants call it.

Suffice it to say, there will be fewer and fewer hours of daylight as we lurch toward December and the Winter Solstice (a day which the Romans celebrated as the feast of Sol Invictus, or “Unconquered Sun.” Again with the Romans).

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Unconquered Sun. Whatever. Little busy here."

Then, winter will really be here and the hours of daylight will increase.

"Told you."

Of course, we may be over a month into our civil war by then, so it probably won’t matter much.

At which time, we should all start drinking heavily

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go give my trees the stink-eye.

Everywhere a Sign

Blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind.

As my head hurts with local, national, and international news, I'm reluctant to jump in with a serious post. So, I try to think about many other things.

No. Not that.

That's more like it.

My thoughts drift to the song from the Five Man Electrical Band, called, uh, "Signs." I realize that there are signs everywhere. Some are kind of brutal and mean (e.g., "Let's Go Brandon"), but a lot of signs are just downright funny. What's even funnier are those which don't mean to be funny.

I looked at my collection of signs, both recent and from years past. So, before the election season shifts into high gear (don't worry-if you are-I won't be able to help myself as we get closer to Election Day and civil war.