Adultery-The Musical!

     Okay, sure, there are a LOT of important and deadly things going on in the world.  If the two of you who read this would like to get my take on them, may I recommend you visit Nobody Asked Me But..., it's a more serious appraisal of the world and can be found where you can get fine literature.  Or this.

    I prefer Penwasser Place remain solely a place of whimsy and silly.

    And adultery.

    I heard a song on the radio today, If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don't Want to Be Right.  It's a catchy little tune, released in 1972 by Luther Ingram.  Surprisingly (or perhaps not), it topped the R& B charts for four weeks and rose to #3 on Billboard's Top 100.

    Throughout the entire ditty is a man whining about following his love, no matter how icky it is.  "Knowing I got a wife and two little children depending on me, too."  What a scumbag.

    Newsflash for Luther:  It is wrong and you definitely aren't right.

    NOTE:  Did a little research.  Apparently Lither won't be receiving any newsflashes.  He's dead.  My bad.  

    Also, in 1972, is Me and Mrs. Jones, another screed by a douchebag who's having an affair with a married woman (the "Mrs." in "Mrs. Jones" gave it away, I'd wager).  This little cheating nugget rose to #1 on Billboard's Top 100 for three weeks!  

    "We meet every day at the same cafe...while the jukebox plays our favorite song."

    Probably If Loving You Is Wrong.

    I know you're probably thinking, "What an old boomer prude.  What's a little extramarital diddling between friends?"  Look, I'm no morals scold, but these sociopaths wrote and performed proudly how much of a philandering turd they were.

    I am old, though.

"NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!!"

   But, nothing makes me change a radio station faster than Rupert Holmes' Poster Song of Adultery, Escape, which is more commonly known as the Pina Colada Song.

    To use Peter Griffin's saying, this thing really grinds my gears. 

         

"And you didn't even mention how my chin looks like a set of balls."

"BALLS!!!"
Also dead.
RIP

 

    I'll admit, like the other two, this is a catchy song and was even featured on that hideous Adam Sandler movie, Grownups and the lesser obnoxious Guardians of the Galaxy.

.  

     I'm sorry, the reason why I hate this more than any else is that both husband and wife are frikkin' cheaters.  After placing an ad in the personals and scheduling a rendezvous with his paramour at "a bar named O'Malley's," he comes to find out that his date was actually his wife.

    Meaning, Mrs. Scumbag was planning to cheat, as well.  They all had a big laugh and never once mentioning how their intention was to boink a perfect stranger.

 

    What in the name of Bill Clinton is this?

"I approve this message."

    Released in December, 1979, it rose to become the country's last #1 hit of the year before being displaced by KC and the Sunshine Band's Please Don't Go in 1980 (their booty having been sufficiently shaken four years earlier).  However, it went back to #1 for a few weeks in 1980.

    These three were released in the 1970s.  And here I thought the 70s had enough problems with disco, fashion, and Gerald Ford. 

    Apparently, the power of boners beat them all.

Of Jockeys and Gnomes

"Go ahead.  Laugh clown, laugh. 
I am so gonna hit your rude ass with a blizzard."

 

    Everyone thinks it’s Punxsutawney Phil who sets the tone for the rest of the winter and gets us psyched for the glorious return of Spring.

    See his shadow-six more weeks of winter

Or is that Christmas lights?

    No shadow?  Early spring.

"No shit?  Sounds as good as anything I got."

    Still, the furry little rodent know-it-all has nothing on the mid-winter circular from Home Depot.

    Having received my sale ad from that “Mecca of the Do-it-Yourselfer,” I’m raring to put my shorts on and putter around the yard in search of that evildoer, crabgrass.  

    As I wistfully flipped through the harbinger of milder weather, I couldn’t help but be awed by the dazzling variety of ways to jazz up my backyard.  From garden tractors to plastic flamingoes, I can buy enough goodies to keep my neighbors green with envy

Or nausea

    Luckily, though, nowhere in the paper did I find those twin banes of home embellishment:  lawn jockeys or garden gnomes.

Better

    Brought to you by the same people who brought you roses in toilets, Virgin-Mary-In-a-White-Truck-Tire, and little old ladies bending over, 

As classy as those are

lawn jockeys are to good taste what Bill Clinton is to marital fidelity.

But, seriously, can you blame him?

"Right?"

  Once believed gone the way of roller disco, leisure suits, and the Yellow Pages, they still occasionally spring up adjacent to driveways or on front porches like home decor kudzu.

     Courteously painted white to avoid any insensitivities,

"If you know what's good for you, Cracker."

the custom of displaying these little equestrian statuettes is a vestige of an aristocratic past and is as insensitive as a cigar-store Elizabeth Warren Indian.

    Don’t get me wrong, though.  I applaud any attempt to improve a home’s “curb appeal.”  Surely, anything is preferable to lavender aluminum siding, "Hate Has No Home Here" signs,

Except Republicans. 
They can fuck all the way off.

 or garden gnomes.

  These miniature Wilfred Brimley look-alikes 

We would also accept "Robert Reich."

make me feel as if I’ve wandered into a Stephen King novel.  At any minute, I’m afraid they’ll come to life and drag me, kicking and screaming, to their secret lair inside the Keebler oak tree. 

"I feel attacked."

    I mean, if you want brainless stumps camped out on your front lawn, why not just ask Jerry Nadler over for a barbecue?

"I'll bring the chips."

     Given a choice between the two, though, I'll settle for plastic flamingoes.

    And, if you don't like it, I'm sending Jerry to your house.  With a bag of Funyuns.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Penwasser History-Happy Presidents Day!

 

Won't get mail today.  Or do business at the bank.  Most of you will have to go to work, too. 
Except me.  I'm retired. 
Suck it.

WARNING: The following contains some truths, half-truths, and outlandish points of conjecture.  Students are therefore urged to not quote any of the below for scholarly research.  Unless you don't live in the United States.  Then, who cares?  Like anyone is gonna know the difference.

NOTE:  Some of this is a repost from last year.  Not all of it.  But some.  Gotta write some of my book, don'tcha know. Because this Blogger gig doesn't pay shit.  Come to think of it, neither do my books.   

******** 

    As I perused Twitter

"It's X!"

whatever, and Threads, the more liberal (relatively) version of Twitter,

"X!"

Seriously, weird dude, give it a rest.  

Anyway, I read posts from a few people calling to ignore Presidents Day because it will celebrate a particular someone.

"I think he means me. 
Although I am the better reincarnation of Lincoln. 
Without the beard."

This was blasted by others who said the day was meant to celebrate George Washington.  Another said, "NO!  It's to celebrate Abraham Lincoln!"

Meaning, they'll argue about anything.

Even though I'd bet I'm more politically aligned with those guys, rather than the one calling for a nationwide boycott, I had to set them straight. 

So, without further adieu...    

    Until recently, there was no such thing as “Presidents” Day.  Rather, we celebrated “Lincoln’s Birthday” on February 12th and “Washington’s Birthday” on February 22nd.  What’s more, these were one shot deals, instead of the three day weekend we now observe.    

"One shot?  More than a little insensitive, wouldn't you say?"

    But, now we have Presidents Day instead of two separate holidays.  Created to make room for the Martin Luther King, Jr. Birthday holiday (no sense giving mailmen too many days off), Presidents Day was meant to commemorate both our 1st and our 16th presidents.  And sales on cars, sheets, and living room furniture.

    So as not to offend either the Washington or Lincoln camps (boy, don’t get those two together in the same room!), Presidents Day was set in the middle of their birthdays.  Or the third Monday in February.  Or whichever made for the better three-day weekend.

    As time wore on, Presidents Day transformed into a day to celebrate all of our nation’s chief executives, even the sucky ones.

"You take that back."

    To be sure, there are plenty of obscure stiffs from which to choose, guys who could be genuine stumpers in Trivial Pursuit.  In fact, were it not for their bosses catching cold at inauguration, having one heck of a tummyache, being assassinated, being the second assassinated president, dropping dead of heart failure, or resigning, we probably would never have heard of Tyler, Andrew Johnson, Arthur, Coolidge, or Ford.

NOTE:  Two more presidents were, tragically, assassinated while in office.  But, I'm sure (unless you went to a Somalian High Skool), you've heard of Theodore Roosevelt and Lyndon B. Johnson.

"Who?"

     So, today I choose to talk about one of the lesser-known men to live rent-free at the White House. 

"What?"

   A man who was legendary in the Whig Party.

"Not wig?"

  A man who put the needs of his fellow citizens before his own.  A man whose hard work paid off handsomely.  A man who had the fortune of being Vice-President when Zachary Taylor died of a stomach-ache in 1849:  Millard Fillmore, 13th President of the United States.

"Kind of a big deal when you put it like that, huh?"

    Millard Fillmore was the last man to occupy the presidency who was neither a Democrat nor Republican.  Meaning he wasn't a batshit-crazy partisan.

"YOU'RE FIRED!"

     When we examine his accomplishments, we can clearly see...

    Oh, wait, I know.  He was a big proponent behind the Compromise of 1850, an attempt to forestall the coming civil war.  But, uh, part of that compromise included the Fugitive Slave Act which expedited the return of escaped slaves to their masters.

     Fillmore failed to secure the nomination of the Whig Party for presidency in 1852 because he sucked reasons.  He then joined the newly-formed Know-Nothing Party.

"Big fan.  No joke."

    That party went nowhere.  Which generally happens when you don't know anything.

"I'll bet they did't even know where Aleppo was, either."
NOTE:  this is an old joke, dating back to the election of 2016. 
Eventually, no one will know what I'm talking about.   

    They faded into obscurity.  A fate avoided by Millard Fillmore.  At least he became a punchline.

    And wasn't responsible for preventing the Civil War. 

"Just can't let that go, huh?"

       

The Unfunny Marx

    Prior to his death in 1977, legendary comedian, Groucho Marx was interviewed about the brothers who formed the wildly popular comedy troupe.

    "Well, of course, Harpo and Chico were hilarious. I could never have done half of what I did without them. Zeppo was a handsome straight man who played romantic-like roles in several of our pictures. Gummo was kind of a goof who wouldn't know a joke if it hit him in the skull. Our oldest brother, Karl, on the other hand, was an unfunny block of wood who never shaved. We stopped inviting him to family picnics after he insisted the ants be invited. 'To each according to his needs, from each according to his means.' What horseshit. That stiff wouldn't even bring a bag of chips to 4th of July barbecues."

 

"I am sooo not an unfunny block of wood. I know plenty of jokes!

Knock, knock

Who's there?

Bolshe.

Bolshe who?

Bolshevik.

Thank you. I'm here 'til Thursday. No. Wait. No, I'm not. I'm dead."

Public Service Announcement

 Public Service Announcement to this Public Service Announcement:  as is my wont, only half of what you will read below is true.  It's up to you to disseminate truth from fiction.  Hey, your education is not up to me.  Besides, why the hell are you coming to Penwasser Place to learn anything anyway?

   

Okay, I'm using a picture from the last post. 
Sue me.

    It’s taken me a couple weeks to get over being violated during my colonoscopy (if you’d like to punish yourself, feel free to read the post before this, “Journey to the Center of my Bowels.”  I won’t stop you).

    Since I can finally look myself in the mirror without sobbing or feeling "cheap,” 

"You get used to it."

I decided I should write once more. After all, it’s the least I could do for the two faithful readers of this blog.

    NOTE:  Since a small polyp (and Jimmy Hoffa.  A joke made in my last post.  Once again, sue me) was found in my colon, I have to undergo another butt “look-see” seven years hence.  Of course, that would make me 74 by then, so the joke may be on them.

Wait.  Hang on.  That's not funny.

    A thought has been nagging at me for several years and has been a bit of a pet peeve.    And that is the name of the mascot for the United States Forestry Service.  The mascot’s name is “Smokey Bear.”  No middle name.  Just “Smokey Bear.”

    Yet, some people mistakenly insist on calling him “Smokey the Bear.” (italics, and old man cranky, are mine).  You wouldn’t call him “Bugs the Bunny” or “Mickey the Mouse,” would you?

Or "Donald the Pantsless Duck"

    So, it is with “Smokey Bear.”

   Yes, yes, there is such a thing as “Felix the Cat.” 

But he is an outlier

     Seriously, though, how many of the two of you remember there was even such a character?  Or a “Betty the Boop”?

Fun Fact: Aunt Bethany from Christmas Vacation was the voice of Betty Boop. 
No shit.
Boop boop a doop 

    Well, since I brought up "Smokey," a brief history....

Not learning

 

"Learing!"

    The concept of using a bear cub mascot occurred during World War II, to raise awareness that careless acts could cause woodlands to catch fire.  In fact, the very first slogan, coined in 1944, was, “Smokey Says-Care Will Prevent 9 of 10 Forest Fires and Kill Every Jap.”

    Since it was deemed a tad insensitive, the “Jap” reference was expunged and the new slogan became the familiar “Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires.”  This slogan persisted throughout our childhood and was finally replaced in 2001 with “Only You Can Prevent Wildfires.”  This was designed so people would know that it's not just forests that catch fire.

Also created with the coming of Gavin Newsom. 
Coincidence?

    The very first real live Smokey was a small black bear cub found and adopted after a forest fire.

"Bear of Color bear cub.  Amirite?"

   His first name was "Hotfoot Teddy."  However, following a lawsuit by the jazz musician, "Athlete Foot Theodore," it was changed to "Smokey."

    Smokey became a big celebrity and was even paired with a female named “Goldie Bear” in some sort of effort to produce an offspring. 

  Unfortunately, attempts at an Ursine Wild Thing were thwarted when a young college student named Bill Clinton, accompanied by a female Gollum, scaled the fence of their enclosure with a camera.

"PFFTTT! You girls are more interesting, anyway.  Smile!"

    Smokey passed away in 1976 after a honey overdose.  Goldie carried on, but never remarried.  No bear could ever live up to her beloved “Smokes,” she maintained.    

    After which she mauled some campers.

"Hey, bears gotta bear, yo."

    FULL DISCLOSURE:  Despite his real name being Smokey Bear, the name "Smokey the Bear" has been perpetuated in popular culture. Steve Nelson and Jack Rollins’ song “Smokey the Bear" has been covered by the group Canned Heat among others. The track is on their CD The Boogie House Tapes 1969–1999.

    Those people are wrong.  

"I know what my name is!  Dopers."

"Allegations made in this post have zero basis in fact.  
They are for entertainment use only."

      I certainly hope so.  

    Don't make me write another colonoscopy post.