Secret Agent Man

Or is it?

Yesterday, I heard Johnny River's song, "Secret Agent Man."

It always sounded like "Secret Asian Man" to me.

To back up my belief?  I think I found him.

Here We Go Again

    “I just wish Trump would go away.”

    Just like that, I’ve entered the civil war sure to come between Republicans/Conservatives (not always the same thing) who are for The Donald and those, who while not against him necessarily, would rather anyone else run for president in 2024.

    When I sat down to write another Stuff and Nonsense,  I was hoping to dash off another bit of silliness.  It’s really the type of writing I like to do.  Talking about Xerxes the Great and his stepbrother, Herschel the So-So, makes me laugh.  And, hopefully, makes you laugh, as well.  Or send mental health professionals to my home.

"Dad hated Herschel."

    Then I wrote the above in the cesspool known as Twitter.  

    Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather comment on Truth Social.  There I don’t have to worry about couching my words so that I don’t get banned.

"You got that, right, pal.  We'll drop you like third-grade English."

    But, Truth Social is an echo chamber for the most part and there is very little interaction.  So, I wander about the asylum which is Twitter.  The loonies there are much more entertaining.

    Anyway, I commented that Trump was a polarizing figure.  Another Tweeter rebutted that statement by writing that Trump is only polarizing because the media and his enemies have made him so.

   I responded back that it didn’t matter why he was polarizing.  The fact remains is that he is polarizing.  And, if Conservatives like me think that, you have to know that there are many others just who believe the same.

   Therefore, I predict a return to the infighting which marked the primaries of 2016.  I won’t lie and try to convince you I was for Donald Trump.  In fact, he would have been my third or fourth choice to face the Wicked Witch of Chappaqua.

    I wanted Ted Cruz to be president.  However, one of the people I worked for as an Environmental Services Associate told me that Cruz was polarizing in a Grampa Munster kind of way.  Yeah, I could see that.  But, to me, Cruz seemed more stable than the mercurial businessman from New York.

You see it.  I see it. 
Makes me laugh. 
Hey, comedy is comedy, after all.

    Those of us who expressed reluctance about Trump-we even compared him to Mussolini-were savaged by  our friends who considered themselves conservative.  It got kind of nasty.  Luckily, we all eventually pulled together.

From 2016.
Yeah, I sometimes tended to wax hyperbolically.

    When all was said and done, I pulled the lever for Trump in November.  I would have preferred the Libertarian candidate, but he was nuts.

"Sheesh, make one mistake about Aleppo and they never let you live it down. 
By the way, where is Aleppo?"

   As far as Hillary?  Good grief, AYFKM?

Speaking of Hillary...word on the street is that she's launched her minions
to visit a pox on the neurotic and brainless.

   In my estimation, the Trump presidency, while certainly not without its share of hiccups along the way (thank you, Schumer, Pelosi, and their likeminded assassins in the media), was a success.  I wasn’t a big fan of tariffs, but I was happy for the most part.  Especially at the gas pump.

    Even though there were times I winced at the almost-slavish devotion of his worshippers (cult of personality has no place in politics) and his sometimes-clownish antics, I wondered if my reticence about him was ill-placed.

    Then, he lost to the incontinent idiot from Delaware.  From that moment until now, Trump has not shut up.  I also believe his narcissistic bombast cost Republicans the open seats in Georgia and, thus, the Senate.  And you see how well that’s worked out for the American people.

"Here's the deal.  You tell that lyin' dog-faced pony soldier
I know where all the continents are.  Even Wakanda.  
Repeat the line."

    If he decides to throw his hat in the ring again (as I’m sure he will), the news cycle will be full of witch hunts, steals, and personal attacks.

    So, here we go again.  In the run-up to the presidential election of 2024 which, unlike in the past, will be the most important election in U.S. history.  A case could be made that the 1860 election was more earth-shaking, but this one will be monumental.

    In the time between now and then, though, there will be people like me who will wish Trump will just “go away.”  And I cannot possibly be the only one.  Still, I’m sure the infighting will often be intense.

    To my Liberal (a word I do not think an insult) friends, I’ll say this.  Enjoy the show.  We’ll get to you  eventually.  Much like I wanted any other NFC team (except Dallas) to go to the Super Bowl, when it came down to it, I pulled for the Rams. 

    We’ll get the band back together after the Republican convention in 2024.

    For the time-being, I’m looking at the governor of Florida to lead us out of this mess.  To me, he has Trump’s skills without the histrionics.  Maybe someone else will jump to the fray.  We’ll see.

"And I'm not orange.  So there's that."

    In any event, I gotta think the Republican candidate will eviscerate anyone the Democrats will throw up.  Unless far too many people think Socialism and big government are the ways moving forward.  In that case, check please?  I want to get off.

     I guarantee this, though.  People like me will be lambasted if we express even a whiff that we’re not “all in” for Trump.  We’ll be accused of being anti-American and refuse to see what he did for our country.  Yes, he did a lot for our country, but I’d like a return to a society which isn’t seething with theatrics and paranoia.

     I can’t possibly be the only one who thinks that.

"Clearly, and can I be frank, Penwasser, or whatever his name is, has lost his mind because anyone who does not worship at my altar has been co-opted by fake news because how could anyone think I should just go away as if my hair, the most excellent hair in the world if I can be honest, would allow me to do that and, while we're on the topic, I think Lyin' Ted looks more like Eddie Munster all grown up, I'm just putting it out there."

Next time:  Back to silly.  My head hurts.

The 300 Dollar Stiff

     The Friday we closed on our new house, we decided to celebrate at a local restaurant.  This had nothing to do with the fact that the new place did not have a microwave oven.  Considering that our house was built in 1960, I suppose this should not have come as a surprise.  After all, the first microwaves weren’t widespread until the mid-1980s.  Yes, yes, I know, they were available long before then, but the earlier versions were expensive, and the general public was concerned about stories of leaked radiation. 

"Radiation, schmadiation. 
I got the first one from Sears and I'm right as rain."

    NOTE:  As of this past Tuesday, we now own a microwave oven.

 

Lead-lined apron or exploding testicles?  You can't be too careful.
NOTE:  Family not included.

    Since we thought we’d have a couple beers, we decided to go someplace close so we could walk home if we got carried away.

    NOTE:  We did not get carried away.  After all, I’m 64.  The next one who will carry me away is the undertaker.

    Since there were only four guys at Five Guys that evening, I was worried the breakfast tacos at Plaza Azteca would spit in my burrito (hey, don’t blame me.  Blame Dr. Jill), and I was afraid I’d need a bowl haircut at Moe’s, we chose a sports bar called “AJ Gators.”

In case you didn't get the joke.

   NOTE:  Unlike Five Guys, AJ’s served beer.  Screw those four guys.

    The food was great and the prices were very reasonable, but the highlight of our visit was our server.  She was very personable, attentive, and kept my beer glass filled  was every bit the professional.

    During the course of our meal, we found out she had also bought a new home.  However, unlike us, it was in Pensacola.   Not for nothing, imagine closing on a house via Zoom?

    Sometime this month, she and her husband will relocate to the free state of Florida.

The Escambia County Chamber of Commerce
is hot on her Welcome Wagon packet.
  And looking for a shirt. 

    We’re planning on returning sometime this weekend to say goodbye.  And order some drinks.

    NOTE:  Walking distance.

"Winning!"

    The topic of serving came up during our conversation.  She said that while most people were fantastic (I sincerely hope we fell into that category), some were much less so.

    One of the most memorable consisted of a party of five who ran up a tab of close to $300.  Considering that the price of food there was very reasonable, I was pretty surprised.

    “Good grief,” I said, “what did they order?  Lobster popsicles?”

   Actually no, she said.  While they did have food, it was mostly appetizers.  The bulk of their order was  alcohol.

    Now don’t get me wrong, I like a cocktail (or several) as much as the next guy.  I was a Sailor, ya know.

I did my best to make the Sixth Fleet proud.

    Our server agreed.  She said she liked a drink (or several-see why we liked her?) herself.

    What really set her off is that she wasn’t left a single dime for the tip.  As much as I’m sure she catered to their every need and busted her tail to make their meal a pleasant one, the fact that a gratuity wasn’t left is appalling.

    Most restaurants, including this one, will automatically levy a gratuity for parties eight or larger.  Since there were only five here, the auto tip didn’t kick in.  18% is normal, 20% is easy math, even 15% is relatively acceptable, but nothing?  Awful.

    As a Multi-Venue Consumption Transportation Representative for Uber Eats, I appreciate it whenever a customer tips.  Not only does it help offset skyrocketing fuel costs, it also gives me a sense that what I’m doing is appreciated.  Even more so if they give me cash.

That's disgusting.
Look how dirty those shoes are.

    That’s why I always tip my server or anyone doing a personal service (minds out of the gutter, please).

    Of course, sometimes your dining experience is not a pleasant one.  Obviously, there are servers out there who are rude, inattentive, or downright incompetent.  These people really shouldn’t be rewarded with a gratuity and should look for work elsewhere.
 

   Like in the federal government.

    But, they are in the minority.  Similarly, any problems with your meal may be completely out of your server’s control.  In that case, cut them a little slack.

    Most of the time, though, these folks, may only work for (sometimes below) minimum wage (which is wrong and a topic for another time) and, so, count on tips. 
 

   So, remember that the next time you go out.  The old maxim rings true.  If you can afford to go out to eat, you can afford to tip.

    Good luck to her in Florida, though.  Where the gators won’t necessarily be cartoon gators.

"What?  No tip? 
Why don't you come a little closer and explain why?"

Next time:  I may go with another History of the World installment.  Or not.  You're not the boss of me.

 

Been a While

 

The Kenderosa

Hi all!

    I know it's been a long while, but I have a good explanation.  I'm a procrastinator  I bought a new house.  Well, new to ME, at least.  The thing was built during the Eisenhower Administration.  Meaning, it's still younger than I am.  

"And I'm dead. 
Which begs the question, why TF am I smiling?"

    What that all means is that I have been extremely busy.  Packing, then moving, then UNpacking (which still has not been completed) has taken up quite a bit of my time.  Not to mention that I have to get the old place ready to be placed on the market.  Cleaning, painting, exorcising demons, you know, pretty standard stuff.

    Just so you know, that's was the plan all along.  Basically, I have access to two places.  Even though, only one has all my stuff in it.

    Sometime this weekend, or early next week, I hope to settle down and write a proper post.  Well, as proper as I can make it.

    Mind you, I still won't be unpacked, but at least I have access to my computer and a chair.  So, I have that going for me.

"Which is nice."

History of the World-The Sea People

Smell Like Fish

 NOTE:  I'll continue to post this disclaimer.  The past several posts and who-knows-how-many-posts to-come are merely what I can remember from Our Lady of Barnum Avenue and History Class at Stratford High School while growing up older in Connecticut.  I will research some specifics, mostly dates and the most obscure of names, and I'll try to place historical events in their proper historical context.  Meaning, I won't have the Aztecs land on the moon.  Or...did they?  Trust me, some of this is true; however, don't use any of this nonsense to prepare for the History Advanced Placement Examination.  If you do, the only college you'll get into is Klown Kollege and you'll probably be confused for Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.  Or Joe Biden.  Especially if you sniff their hair.

    You may have noticed that it’s been quite a while since I posted here.  I’ve been busy going here, there, and everywhere, so I must apologize to the two of you who have no life who look forward to the madness which is Al Penwasser.  Or whatever my name is.

    One of my trips was to a wedding in Connecticut (not mine).  It was a lot of fun that involved prodigious amounts of merry-making, much dancing, and loads of dirty limericks.

    But, it was the trip that I made two weeks prior (for my nephew’s bachelor party), that provided the inspiration for this post.

    On my way home, I decided to listen to a history podcast (yes, I am that big a nerd).  Once finished with “Fall of the Assyrian Empire,” I chose “The Bronze Age Collapse.”  Is it any wonder chicks dig me?

"And, if you play your cards right, I'll show you my collection of used togas."

    Apparently, most of the Mediterranean world collapsed (hence the term “collapse”) between 1200 and 1100 BC.  Give or take 100 years.  At any rate, a long time ago.  What was most amazing was that Republicans had nothing to do with it.

    From ancient Greece to Anatolia to the Dorians and, to a lesser extent, Assyria and Egypt, a lot of the known world came crashing to a halt.

    Historians are somewhat puzzled as to the cause of this event.  Sure, they’ve dug up evidence of a cataclysm within the cities.  But, this could have been due to poor housecleaning practices and a casual disregard for hygiene.  The upshot is that they really do not have a definitive answer.

    One possible explanation is laid at the feet of those known as the Sea Peoples.  Not much, if anything, is known about these folks who came crushing in from…the sea.  Try and keep up.

Artist depiction of a Sea Person. 
Who didn't scare anyone.

Updated version of Sea People.
Okay, they were wicked scary.
Plus, one of them crapped on Greek beds.
Which really grossed them out.

    Sure, they may have just been cranky but there is some evidence that they were migrants looking for a place to live.  Historians have speculated that the regions from which they came (they were called “northmen” in some stone tablets) suffered some sort of catastrophe, possibly a climate crisis.  Which had nothing to do with fossil fuels.  Huh.  Weird, I know.

Wrong migrants

                NOTE:  this cataclysm may trace its roots to the eruption of an Icelandic volcano, Hekla.  I won’t get into the specifics here, though.  Goodness knows, this post will be long enough.

    So, in an ancient form of real estate crunch (apparently, the eastern Mediterranean was a seller’s market), they swept in.  Many societies fell, as bronze was no match for weapons made of iron. 

"Thank God Raytheon switched out our Velveeta swords for bronze."
"Hey, what's God?"
"Yeah, and velveeta."

    A couple societies survived relatively intact from the incursions of the Sea People.  The Assyrian Empire did pretty good.  Mostly because they were pretty bad-ass, but also because the Sea Peoples weren’t too keen on dragging their boats across the desert.

    The Egyptians did all right and even turned back the invaders during the Battle of the Delta around 1175 BC.  The Egyptian pharaoh, Ramesses III, insanely jealous that Ramesses II got to marry Anne Baxter and invent prophylactics, nonetheless made a name for himself when he saved what remained of his world.

Upon further reflection, switching out the "Dragon" for the "Care Bear" figurehead
probably didn't send the message they were going after.

    He set a trap for the Sea People by drawing them into the quagmire of the Nile Delta (I’m guessing that’s why it’s called “Battle of the Delta”).  The invaders’ overconfidence betrayed them as they allowed themselves to be drawn farther south up the Nile River (the Nile flows south to north).

    Eventually coming into perfect position, Ramesses ordered the attack.   When the initial onslaught of crocodile dung pies failed, he then ordered legions of archers gathered on the banks to unleash hell.  The Sea People were annihilated, and their predations ceased.  The pharaoh, quite full of himself,  ordered a depiction of the battle inscribed on his mortuary wall, replete with dead bodies, prisoners, and, in hieroglyphics, “Up yours, Ramesses II!  I defeated the Sea People, while you couldn’t hang on to Charlton Heston, Edward G. Robinson, and thousands of Hebrew slaves.”

"Yeah, but still...Anne Baxter.  So double up yours!"

    The aftermath of the battle saw the Sea People pretty much disappearing from history.  And the Bronze Age still collapsed.  So maybe it was something else altogether.  Like the Russians.

    Still, it was a pretty cool story.

    Even if they did smell like fish.

"Meh.  You get used to it."

Solemn Memorial Day

    NOTE:  Even though Stuff and Nonsense is available in much of the civilized world and New Jersey (thank you, World Wide Web! You're not just about porn.), the following will probably only make sense to Americans (you know, like NASCAR).  So, for those not part of Joe Biden's America (you lucky bastards), feel free to go looking for Karen videos on Tik Tok.  Or, if you're of a masochistic bent, you can hang around like Jeffrey Epstein.  Or anyone else who knows Hillary Clinton.

"What do you mean you missed that dig? 
And you call Doocy a dumb son-of-a-bitch."

********

 Happy Memorial Day!

    I wonder how many of us say that without realizing that the last Monday in May is really not about the unofficial start of summer?

"No?  Eff."

    NOTE:  June, July, and August are pretty cold in the Southern Hemisphere, which sounds like a crappy deal for our friends down under.  Until you stop to consider they also don’t have the Kardashians.  So, it’s kind of a wash.

I said "Kardashian." 
You're welcome Star Trek nerds

"Thanks, dude.  Live long and prosper!"

    Lost among backyard barbecues, fireworks (for those looking to get a jump on Independence Day...or piss off their neighbors), trips to Jersey beaches (to watch the annual washing ashore of mob hits), and tropical storms (in Florida) is the true purpose behind Memorial Day.

    Originally called Decoration Day, this recognition of those who gave their lives in the recent Civil War was officially proclaimed on May 5th, 1868, by General John Logan of the Grand Army of the Republic (well, weren’t they all full of themselves?).  Planned for May 30th, it drew former foes together to plant flowers and otherwise spruce up graves of war dead from North and South alike at Arlington National Cemetery.

    To be sure, women in the South were also “decorating” gravesites of their dead from the “Great Cause.”  In fact, some sources state that those practices even predated the end of the war.  What’s more, some states in Dixie even had their own Decoration Days, mostly in May. 

    NOTE:  For my non-American friends (and products of the Mississippi school system), the American Civil War (or “War of Northern Aggression”-sheesh, those people can really hold a grudge) took place between 1861 and 1865 between the “North” and the “South.”  I could bore you with the whys, whens, and whats about one of my country’s most horrific conflicts, but I won’t (no sense cracking a book).  Let’s just put it this way:  a lot of people died and the blue team won.  Oh, and it wasn’t technically a “civil” war.  Because, let’s face it, there’s nothing civil about getting your head blown off by a cannon ball.

     WE NOW PAUSE FOR A PROBABLY PREDICTABLE COMMENT:  I fear we may be heading towards a no-kidding, genuine civil war.

    Decoration Day remained in honor of Civil War dead up until after the First World War.  Following history’s most idiotic conflict (which didn’t end up being the “war to end all wars”), it was decided that May 30th would be set aside to honor all American war dead.

    The name, however, stuck until it officially changed to Memorial Day in 1967.  No matter what it was called, though, Americans throughout the nation took time out to honor those who had fallen.

    What seemed to many to be a civic duty began to fade after Congress passed the Holiday Act of 1971.  An effort to consolidate some federal holidays into three-day weekends, it shifted Memorial Day to the last Monday in May.  The inexorable transformation from solemn tribute to summertime bacchanal had begun.

    I try my best not to be a crank about the avalanche of car commercials, barbecue tips shows, or “ABBA to ZZ Top-The Memorial Countdown of the 500 Most Popular Hits of the 70s, 80s, 90s, and Whatever the Frik We Call the 21st Century!”  It’s hard not to get caught up in the hoopla of a country poised at the brink of gloriously warm weather (sorry, Aussies) and summer reruns.  After all, who doesn't love going to the beach?

"Hey, you think I can get a couple dozen fudgsicles?"

    Still, I remember when Memorial Day used to be about the Soldier, Sailor, Airman, Marine, and Coast Guardsman.  Parades, wreath-layings, air shows, flag-raisings:  those were what I remember.

    But, if I think back really hard, I also remember my father incinerating hot dogs on the grill while listening to Best of the Ventures on his 8-Track player.  All while we played fetch with our dog-using my little brother’s bathing suit.  When we weren’t playing catch with the Lawn Darts.

    All happy memories.

 

Well, except for when
Uncle Doug got a little too close.

    So, when I get up Monday morning, I’m going to fly my flag before heading off to see the Memorial Day parade.  I’ll place my hand over my heart when the national anthem is played at the wreath-laying.  And hang on to every word spoken by a veteran from either the American Legion or the VFW.

    Then, I’ll go home to see if I can cook a hot dog better than my dad.

 

Eat It Before It Eats You

                 On our way back from an overseas deployment in early 1998, USS George Washington dropped anchor in Cannes, France.  Even though the famous film festival was months away and it was too cold for topless beaches, it was still a welcome respite from the rigors of being at-sea.  Plus, since it would be our last port call before returning to our homeport, we had a chance to pick up some last-minute souvenirs.

On the other hand,
closed topless beaches may have been a blessing.
I hadn't realized French girls were so hairy.

                After an afternoon of shopping, two friends and I decided to have lunch.  Even though we, strangely, felt like getting some Chinese food (those types of restaurants are all over the world), we were surprisingly unable to find any. 

                So, we had lunch at a charming French (naturally) café.  One of my friends,  who we called "Godfather" (I can't exactly remember why.  Give me a break.  It's been twenty-four years) and I elected to go with a beef, lamb, pork, some kind of meat entree (once again, over two decades).

I figured wearing a sweatshirt which said "Quebec"
on it would mark me as a true Francophone. 
Or nerd.

                Our other friend, who we called "Wanking Clown" said he felt like fish.

                NOTE:  Like with "Godfather," I can't remember why we called him that.  If you look up the definition of "wanking," you'll find that it is slang for masturbation.  Now, since our friend (won't give you his real name) wasn't prone to "rubbing one out" in public (thank God), I'm sure that wasn't the reason we called him that.  The more I thought about it, though, the more I remember that we said that bitching about something was the same thing as wanking about something.  That kind of makes sense.  Because he certainly bitched a lot.  Sooooo, we used a slang expression for another slang expression.  We were weird that way.  In fact, we called eating dinner "taking it in the face."  Which, when you say it out loud, could be taken in a completely different context.   The "clown" bit?  Yeah, that was totally legit.

"Homey is hurt."

                Anyway, once his order arrived, he paled.  Instead of the neatly sliced and prepared fish he was expecting,  Wanking Clown was served an...entire...fish.

                He immediately complained (wanked), "KEN! KEN! I CAN'T EAT THIS!  IT'S A WHOLE FISH!  WITH EYES!  I CAN'T EAT ANYTHING THAT'S LOOKING AT ME!  HOW DO YOU EAT SOMETHING THAT'S LOOKING AT YOU?"

                As we laughed, he whined (wanked), "I feel like I should apologize to it!  Maybe I should eat it from the tail so it's NOT looking at me!"

                Godfather and I took great delight in his discomfort and hooted at his dilemma.  It became a story which we held onto long after we returned to the United States.  I was amazed that he didn't think of the possibility of getting an entire fish.

                Fast (sorta) forward to last week.

                Asked by my girlfriend to join her on an all-expense paid trip to Puerto Rico, I had a wonderful five days at a resort hotel on the island's northeast coast.  On our first night, we joined another couple at a pretty swanky restaurant on site.  Although a little pricey, it would prove to be one of the highlights of our  stay.

                The tiramisu was a little dry, though.  But, I wank.

                The menu was chock full of all sorts of tasty-looking possibilities.  When our waiter suggested the catch of the day, a two-pound yellowfin snapper, I thought that sounded downright delicious.  So, the catch of the day it was.

                After a short while, our meals arrived.

                Somewhere in this world, a Wanking Clown is feeling an amusing disturbance in the Force.

                For, my two-pound yellowfin snapper was an entire two-pound yellowfin snapper.

                With eyes.  

"Hey!  Who TF you lookin' at?  Punk."