Followers Where I Can Get Them

   
    You may have noticed (perhaps not) that, since my return, I tend to write less frequently here.  Oh sure, I spew (pretty much a correct term) two posts a week.  But, really, it's only one.  The "Sign Language" posts I regurgitate (a more correct term) every Wednesday are all delayed posts and just throw up (an even better term) old pictures that I had laying around in my computer.

    So, in reality, I only write one new post a week.  Even then, last week's offering on ghosts was a repeat of something I wrote several years ago.  I'll avoid doing that, because it seems like cheating, but as I've said in the past, if you've never read it, it's new to you.

    Still, I'll try to avoid doing that.

    I was even considering taking part in this year's A-Z Challenge,

I may repost Xerxes.
Just because he's my kind of freak.

but decided against it.  It takes up a lot of time that I wasn't prepared to give.  So, I may post entries from years past (there's that cheating thing again).

    No, I'm not feeling morose or otherwise gloomy (annnnnnd I've repeated myself).  That is so 2018.  I've put the melancholy parts of my life in the past (don't you love Microsoft's "Synonym" feature when you're writing something?).

A sample Instagram post.

This is the type of comedy you just can't buy.

Nor should you.

    Actually, I'm busy cracking wise on other platforms.  Like I've said in the past, I enjoy myself quite a bit (most times with my clothes on) on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.  In fact, I've been posting a weekly video "observations" every Sunday evening.  Because, what better way to celebrate the Lord's Day than with a little bit of Ken/Al?

   My apologies to Robyn, she of the Chosen People.

    All that said, I very much intend to continue on Blogger.  After all, I can't get out of the multi-year lease that I signed (NOTE:  there is no such lease).

    With that said, I don't want to write in a vacuum because that would suck (see what I did there?  Yeah, it's not just on Instagram where you can find this type of thigh-slapping cleverness).  Unlike some Republicans and Rachel Maddow, I am a human being and crave personal interaction.

No.  Not that kind.

Although...

    Therefore (we would also accept 'so.'  Love that synonym tool), I use one of the features on Blogger to see who my audience is.  As I'm sure you all know, I can check who's here at this moment and all the way to who (or is that "whom?"  Oh, eff it.) has visited the past month.

    Obviously, most visitors come from the United States,

"Wait.  Aren't you American?"

"Yeah, but I suck so..."

although a fair percentage come from Canada (thank you Pat and Birgit).  Others are from the United Kingdom and occasionally Australia, which makes sense, I suppose, because we share the same language (although Brits call being drunk "pissed."  Which we Yanks routinely do in the corner when we're drun....ohhhhhhhhhhh).  Plus, Batman is Welsh, Superman is British, and Wolverine is Australian.

    So, there's that.

"Pretty funny stuff.  For an infidel."
"DEATH TO AMERICA!"
"Well, clearly, but Penwasser makes me piss my robes."

   But, I also see followers from Germany, Poland, Indonesia, Taiwan and other countries who are wanting themselves a little stuff and nonsense although they probably can't read English.


   The followers I get from China, Russia, and the Ukraine make me a little nervous, I'll have to admit.  Maybe they're looking to finagle their way into our bit of the cyber-world?  Or, some foreign (I know, I know, Americans are foreign to Canadians.  Get off my back, Pat) agent hopes to glean something classified from me, considering the job I once held? 

"Note to self:  never let Lynch drive the boat again."

    Perhaps Communism (or whatever TF they have in Russia and

"Nyet.  He is the shits with the making funs 

of the Barack Bahamas 

and the Orange Julius 

knowings how the winds works."

Ukraine  now) is so sucky, they gain a small bit of solace from this nonsense?

     What gives me the most pause is that some of my followers (or at least visitors) come from what Blogger calls "Unknown Region."  This amazes me.  Is Blogger reacting to a map which is perpetually changing so it's hard to keep up?  Is this Blogger's version of "Oh, f*ck it.  Why go through the trouble of figuring out where these visitors are coming from?  I mean it's not like anybody reads these crappy audience statistics anyway." 

Poland.

Second Place.

I'll resist a gratuitous joke here.

"And, coming in at #3 this week, 'Unknown Region.'"

    Or maybe, just maybe, "Stuff and Nonsense-A Penwasser Place" is being read in outer space?

    I guess I'd better not post any Martian knock-knock jokes.
    
    Who knows what offends those people? 

"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"Uranus."
"Uranus who?"
"Earthlings can't probe Uranus because we don't have one."
"Sheesh, Lou, don't quit your day job.  You suck."

Sign Language XIII

New feature at the Bill Clinton Presidential Library

Spooks

 No, not that kind....

This kind

  Like the word "queer," I'd like to bring the word "spook" back to its original meaning.  You know, like "faggot."

Apparently has his own jet airplane.  

And is a millionaire.

But, I don't see an earring or makeup.

But, I digress.....

    My daughter loves to watch “Ghost Adventures.”
   
    For those who have lives and may not know, “Ghost Adventures”

When normal networks won't do.
The Travel Channel.

is a program on the Travel Channel that purports to show what the “living-challenged” are like.
  
    Oh, sure, some of you may smugly think you know everything there is to know about ghosts.  You’ve seen Casper cartoons, watched Bill Murray in “Ghostbusters,” and thought Patrick Swayze was the hottest spook (see?  There's that word again) you have ever seen.
      
    Poor Taste Department:  Of course as we all know, Patrick Swayze has since become a ghost.

"Insensitive prick."

    Anyway, “Ghost Adventures” follows the...uh...adventures of Zak (he of the big biceps) and his two sidekicks as they crawl around supposedly haunted places in the middle of the night (never in broad daylight.  I think that’s a law).  Using state of the art equipment, two cheesy goatees, and panicked gasps of “Dude!” from Aaron, they try to convince us that mouse farts are, in reality, calls from beyond the grave.

     
    Sometimes I watch the show with her just to make fun of it and poke her in the side screaming, “Boo!”  Our favorite episode was when the boys visited the abandoned Remington Arms factory in Bridgeport, Connecticut. 

It's looked better.  

Not in my lifetime, though.

For those unfortunate enough to be traveling through Bridgeport (Safety Tip:  Very fast, and with your car doors locked and windows rolled-up), you can see the factory just before you disappear in a pothole on I-95.  The reason I liked that particular show was that, since my personality was forged in that cauldron of urban decay, I recognized the area.  Which is why I moved very far away from it.
  
    

    I had to laugh at Zak and company.  Even though they tried to impress upon us that their immortal souls were in danger, they were actually safer locked inside.  I’m not saying Bridgeport is dangerous, but even the birds carry guns.

"Just so we're clear.  Nobody will be able to get inside, right?  

You know, because Bridgeport."

      The more I thought about the idea of ghosts, the more I thought about what do people do to get rid of them (especially if they’re stupid enough to build a house over an Indian graveyard.  Always Indian, never Amish)?

"It's never Amish, is it?"
"Ja, ve explode der dead.  Saves space."
"Jealous bastards.  Okay, who's up for cow-tipping?"

      For instance, are Catholics the only ones allowed to be exorcists?
  
    What happens if a priest isn’t available and you had to call in, say, a Methodist?
  
    OK, raise your hands.  How many think a demon would be intimidated by a Methodist?  That’s right, any self-respecting spawn of Satan would just yawn and put up drapes.
  
    Anyone plagued by denizens from beyond the grave would have

"I cast you out, Satan!  

Because I'm Batman."

to call in a priest (sort of like a theological Batman), wouldn't you think?  Who’d then sprinkle some holy water on the sofa, say a few “Be gone from this holy place, foul demon!” incantations, and hand out Bingo cards.    
    It's probably not that simple, though. 

    Certainly, there’d have to be Jewish ghosts.  Would a Catholic work then?  A crucifix would have no effect on a Yiddish evil spirit, I’m sure.  Maybe a Star of David?
  
    I gotta think, for a Jewish ghost, you’d need a rabbi. 
  

"I should be afraid of holy water?  
You sprinkle some on me, you're cleaning it up.  
What am I looking like?  The maid?"

    “So, Mr. Fancy-pants, you think you’re so special you can come in here and terrorize these nice people?  Stop being such a big shot, get your coat, and scram, ya schmuck, ya. And don’t forget to wipe your feet.”

   Voila!  Ghost is banished to eternal oblivion.  Or Miami.  Which may be the same thing. 

    Plus, what about Muslim ghosts?  How would even know your ghost was a Muslim?  Would you have a shoe thrown at your head in the middle of the night?

    Yes, I resisted the predictable "beheading" crack and went with "shoe."  You're welcome.

      How ‘bout Mormon ghosts?  I wouldn’t think that’d be so bad.  They’d probably only possess your bicycles. 

"I have some literature for you to read.  

As soon as I park this thing."

    Finally, how would you get rid of an atheist ghost?  Surely there have to be some.  Maybe all you’d need to say is, “You don’t believe in me?  Well, I don’t believe in you.  Swear to God.”  Problem solved.
  
    Just to be on the safe side, better keep the Vatican on speed dial, though.

  

Sign Language XII

Okay.  

We get it.  

You have fruit trees.  

No need for name-calling.

Politically Correct

    My post last Wednesday prompted a couple of responses.  Even though they were all great, the first two gave me reason to possibly reconsider my attempt at humor.

A clear example of white privilege, if I ever saw one.

    Therefore, upon a recommendation from the highly talented and felinephilic (possibly Latin for "Liker of Cats..." maybe.),

"I don't know Latin.  Or cats.  Or Latin cats."

Pat Hatt, I've adjusted the picture.

Fixed it.

    I just hope I haven't offended any transgender folks.   

"No, no, it's cool.  

We just let the Puerto Ricans handle the recycling."

"Oh, boy, here come the letters."

   

Sign Language XI

Huh.

I guess white privilege is a thing.

Sign Language X

Not to be confused with the "cocaine."
That's on Aisle 8.

Sign Language IX

I followed this truck for miles.

To Blog Or Not To Blog?

 

"That is the questi...wait.  

What the frik am I doing here?  

I'm a famous playwright.  

And I'm dead."

   I try to take a day or two throughout the week to pay a visit to you all on Blogger.  

    Of course, a few of you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, so you have that going for you.  We call you "Gluttons For Punishment."  Others?  We interact here on Blogger.  We call you the "Lucky Ones."

    Yesterday I read a post from one of the aforementioned "Lucky

"That's what I was going to say.  Hater."

Ones."  I won't mention her name (well, okay, the fact that I said she was a "she" pretty much eliminates half the population.  Although....in this day and age of gender confusion, did it?).

 

"Before shoes?  Interesting.  Go on."

   

    Anyway, anyone with rudimentary detective skills (or knows to put on socks before shoes) can probably figure out who this post came from.

    She was wondering whether to do a podcast to get her message out.  It's a very important message (nothing like the empty-calories crap you'll find here), so I told her that she should go for it.

    But, another thing upon which she puzzled is whether blogging is becoming more passe with the passage of time.  Maybe, she opined, sites like Blogger are giving way to newer, more hip platforms.

    I have to admit that I've wondered the same thing, especially since I've returned to (semi) regularly posting here.

    Over the past several months, I've written/posted elsewhere.  I've

I'm what you would call a "literary playa," yo.

been a regular (some would say too much) on Facebook (itself being accused of being passed by) both as "Kenneth Charles" and "Al Penwasser" (just can't get rid of Al, can I?).  

    



    I've also been active on Instagram (which often links back to

"Don't forget CHINA!!"

Facebook) and on Twitter (quite often, a veritable cesspool of snarky commentary, left, right, and Donald Trump).

    One thing I've enjoyed doing is creating videos which I post on Facebook Sundays at 6:00.  I certainly don't get paid for these (nor should I), but they're fun.

    You may start to see these here.

I repeat-none of them are bestsellers.  

This is why I do what I do.

    All this, and I continue to write.  I'm up to six books now and have plans for several more.  None of them are bestsellers, mind you.  Still, I like writing them.

    My point, IS blogging going the way of the typewriter, BETA VCR, MySpace, blacksmiths, and ethics in government?  

    I have no plans on stopping blogging again, although my footprint will be reduced (you may have noticed this already, thinking, "Oh, thank God!!)?  I may even see about doing the A-Z Challenge again (do we still do that?).  

    You'll probably see more duplication of effort here, especially if you follow me elsewhere, but I'll still be around.

    But, know this...the high quality nonsense you've come to expect from this blog will never change.

    I'm still waiting for a "Blog of Note" award, after all (do they still do that anymore?).
 

Sign Language VIII

Attention, customers?
You'll have to find someplace else to park.

New Comedy Gold

"I am therefore introducing a bill in Congress, after I get my hair 

and nails done, which I call the 

'Emergency Services Happy Face Act.'  

No one in our socialist country democracy should 

suffer needless anxiety searching for '11' on their phone's

 keyboard when dialing '911.'  

THIS MUST END!!"

"Wow.  what a moro...oops, is my fly down?"

Sign Language VII

Bill Clinton reported to be first in line.

This Is Why I'm Going To Purgatory

"Okay, we get it already!  You had a tough year!!  Move on!!!

   The past year was fraught was drama, stress, and anxiety.  Having to deal with the aforementioned drama, stress, and anxiety took up time which could have been devoted to other, less excruciating, pursuits.  What made things worse was the fact that the vast majority of my ills were self-induced.  Some of you out there know what I'm talking about.  Some of you don't.  In any case, I won't go into the whole story here.  Blah, blah, blah, enough already, right?

    You're welcome.

    Even though my life was topsy-turvy over the past fifteen months, I managed to keep writing, albeit at a much slower rate.  I cut back on Facebook, stopped writing my blog (Penwasser Place-some of you may have heard of it), but continued to slog away on the two books I was writing.

"And we appreciated it.  Right, Joe?"

    

"Did I forget to put on pants again?  

My legs feel cold."

    However, as time went on and emotional wounds started to scar

"Eff."

over, I began to find my "funny" again and began ramping up the pace of reaching out to people like yourselves.  I hit Facebook full-force, returned to Twitter, and, obviously, began another blog.  I haven't gotten fully back to speed (especially here), but things are returning to normal.

    I'm also happy to report that, after significant delays, I've published books number five and six.

   

Thank goodness someone wrote it with me.
Someone had to keep me under control

The first, I'll Make Christmas:  A Love Story, is a little different than my usual scribblings.  Written in collaboration with his widow, Joni, it's a collection of journal entries my stepfather, Ray, made as he struggled through the last year or so of his life before succumbing to cancer in 1996.  Very rarely goofy (I told you it was different), I was overwhelmed with sadness as I wrote it.  At the same time, my heart overflowed with love when I thought about how fortunate that I was that he was part of our family.

    I'm pretty proud of it, but I had to return to the silly.

    The second one, St. Stan's: Tales From the Penguin Academy, is

I'm proud to report that I was able

 to afford page numbers this time.  

And verbs.

a story that I've been threatening promising for several years.  Set in a Catholic School in Stratford, Connecticut in 1969, it's the prequel to Shag Carpet Toilet, another story ignored by millions.  I'm very happy with this, both in that I've kept my promise and that it's (what I hope) unbridled nonsense.

    Of course, the only problem is that I've probably extended my stay in Purgatory for another couple hundred years.  

    Nuns never forget.

"Aye, that we don't.  

Knuckles if ye please, boyo."