The Supreme Court has ruled that they cannot have a nativity scene in Washington, D.C. This wasn't for any religious reasons. They couldn't find three wise men and a virgin.
--Jay Leno
Aren't we forgetting the true meaning of Christmas?
You know...the birth of Santa.
--Bart Simpson
I once bought my kids a set of batteries for Christmas with a note on it saying, toys not included.
--Bernard Manning
Once again we find ourselves enmeshed in the Holiday Season, that very special time of year when we join with our loved ones in sharing centuries-old traditions such as trying to find a parking space at the mall. We traditionally do this in my family by driving around the parking lot until we see a shopper emerge from the mall, then we follow her, in very much the same spirit as the Three Wise Men, who 2,000 years ago followed a star, week after week, until it led them to a parking space.
--Dave Barry
Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past forgotten and his present remembered.
--Phyllis Diller
Christmas at my house is always at least six or seven times more pleasant than anywhere else. We start drinking early. And while everyone else is seeing only one Santa Claus, we'll be seeing six or seven.
--W.C. Fields
Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates. "In honor of this holy season," Saint Peter said, "You must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven." The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. "It represents a candle," he said. "You may pass through the pearly gates," Saint Peter said. The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells." Saint Peter said, "You may pass through the pearly gates." The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of nylons. St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, "And just what do those symbolize?" The man replied, "They're Carol's."
--Anonymous (who may have had a little too much egg nog when he told that one.)
Let me see if I've got this Santa business straight. You say he wears a beard, has no discernible source of income and flies to cities all over the world under cover of darkness? You sure this guy isn't laundering illegal drug money?
--Tom Armstrong
Top Ten Signs Your Mall Santa Is Overworked:
10.Instead of, "What do you want for Christmas?" Asks, "Where the hell am I?"
9.Calls every kid he meets "Ricky"
8.Constantly breaks down sobbing like John Boehner
7.Excuses himself to bathe in the fountain
6.Will only hear what you want if you go through a pat down or full body scan
5.Barricades himself under the escalator brandishing a sharpened candy cane
4.Angrily tells everyone, "You're getting a Waterpik"
3.Many times a day, mall security has to taser him
2.Asks every kid, "You're not Jewish, are you?"
1.Instead of milk and cookies, asks for Xanax
--David Letterman
And he, he himself, the Grinch, carved the roast beast.
--Dr. Seuss
(Merry Christmas, folks--KJ)
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Old Standard
(Originally posted on 12/10/2008--KJ)
The one disease where you don't look forward to the cure.
--Citizen Kane
I dread getting old.
Not that it's imminent, but I do have a birthday coming up, so it'll be just a little bit closer this year than it was this same time last year. Which was just a little bit closer that year than that same time the year before.
Nice, leisurely pace, huh? Then how come it feels more like justalittlebitcloserthisyearthanitwasthissametimelastyear whichwasjustalittlebitcloserthatyearthanthatsametimetheyearbefore?
And that's just during the waking hours.
Why should I look forward to the aging process? Liver spots change your complexion. There's wet spaghetti where your neck used to be. Your fingers and toes petrify. Your flesh turns to corduroy. A speed bump sprouts from your back. And, if your male, your pelvis apparently disappears so that you have to pull your waist band all the way up to your nipples.
When you're old your voice hushes up. Maybe that's where the phrase "dirty old man" comes from. If you're going to talk like an obscene phone caller anyway...
You walk, talk, think, eat, breathe, and do absolutely nothing, at a much slower pace. You become more susceptible to gravitational force. Why else do so many elderly people walk with their heads bent over like they're at Catholic Mass?
When you're old your eyesight deteriorates so that your squint is just one more line on your face. Your hearing deteriorates so that you tip sideways, like a buoy, trying to understand what people are saying. And, finally, your mind deteriorates so that you no longer have to squint or tip your head sideways, as you can now see and hear people who aren't even there!
Getting old is a bummer. Huh? What's that? Nobody says "bummer" anymore? That's another problem with the aging process--your vocabulary deteriorates.
Thinking about all this the other night left me in a very bad way. So I did what I often do when consumed with despair. I reached for the remote and started channel surfing.
I came upon Entertainment Tonight. This show has been on the air for a very long time now. In fact, I think the year it premiered, the term "bummer" was at the height of it's popularity. Anyway, watching ET I flashed back to a segment that aired, oh, God, some twenty-five years earlier.
Estelle Winwood was an acclaimed British stage actress who, in her later years, played character roles in Hollywood movies. In 1983, she turned 100. About this same time, comedian George Burns, then 87, came out with a book titled How to Live to be 100 or More. Some publicist got the clever idea that Miss Winwood should appear at a book signing with Burns.
She agreed to do it, but may not have been vetted properly. As they both sat there before the assembled media (including Entertainment Tonight), a reporter held the book, about the positive aspects of aging, up to Miss Winwood. She took one look at the title and said, "Oh, dear, don't remind me!"
A moment later, she turned to George Burns, whom she had apparently never met nor, in spite his being very well-known in 1983, heard of before, and asked, "Are you some sort of doctor?"
Never one to take offense easily, Burns answered, "No, I'm an entertainer. I sing a little, dance a little, tell a few jokes."
"Oh," exclaimed Estelle Winwood. "Why, how marvelous!"
If I could just hang around with the likes of those two, I think I'd look forward to aging.
The one disease where you don't look forward to the cure.
--Citizen Kane
I dread getting old.
Not that it's imminent, but I do have a birthday coming up, so it'll be just a little bit closer this year than it was this same time last year. Which was just a little bit closer that year than that same time the year before.
Nice, leisurely pace, huh? Then how come it feels more like justalittlebitcloserthisyearthanitwasthissametimelastyear whichwasjustalittlebitcloserthatyearthanthatsametimetheyearbefore?
And that's just during the waking hours.
Why should I look forward to the aging process? Liver spots change your complexion. There's wet spaghetti where your neck used to be. Your fingers and toes petrify. Your flesh turns to corduroy. A speed bump sprouts from your back. And, if your male, your pelvis apparently disappears so that you have to pull your waist band all the way up to your nipples.
When you're old your voice hushes up. Maybe that's where the phrase "dirty old man" comes from. If you're going to talk like an obscene phone caller anyway...
You walk, talk, think, eat, breathe, and do absolutely nothing, at a much slower pace. You become more susceptible to gravitational force. Why else do so many elderly people walk with their heads bent over like they're at Catholic Mass?
When you're old your eyesight deteriorates so that your squint is just one more line on your face. Your hearing deteriorates so that you tip sideways, like a buoy, trying to understand what people are saying. And, finally, your mind deteriorates so that you no longer have to squint or tip your head sideways, as you can now see and hear people who aren't even there!
Getting old is a bummer. Huh? What's that? Nobody says "bummer" anymore? That's another problem with the aging process--your vocabulary deteriorates.
Thinking about all this the other night left me in a very bad way. So I did what I often do when consumed with despair. I reached for the remote and started channel surfing.
I came upon Entertainment Tonight. This show has been on the air for a very long time now. In fact, I think the year it premiered, the term "bummer" was at the height of it's popularity. Anyway, watching ET I flashed back to a segment that aired, oh, God, some twenty-five years earlier.
Estelle Winwood was an acclaimed British stage actress who, in her later years, played character roles in Hollywood movies. In 1983, she turned 100. About this same time, comedian George Burns, then 87, came out with a book titled How to Live to be 100 or More. Some publicist got the clever idea that Miss Winwood should appear at a book signing with Burns.
She agreed to do it, but may not have been vetted properly. As they both sat there before the assembled media (including Entertainment Tonight), a reporter held the book, about the positive aspects of aging, up to Miss Winwood. She took one look at the title and said, "Oh, dear, don't remind me!"
A moment later, she turned to George Burns, whom she had apparently never met nor, in spite his being very well-known in 1983, heard of before, and asked, "Are you some sort of doctor?"
Never one to take offense easily, Burns answered, "No, I'm an entertainer. I sing a little, dance a little, tell a few jokes."
"Oh," exclaimed Estelle Winwood. "Why, how marvelous!"
If I could just hang around with the likes of those two, I think I'd look forward to aging.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
In Memoriam: Harry (Henry) Morgan 1915-2011
Actor. The Ox-Bow Incident (watch how the focus is on Morgan during Henry Fonda's monologue). Dragonwyke. All My Sons. The Big Clock. Race Street. Scandal Sheet. High Noon. The Glen Miller Story. Inherit the Wind. What Did You Do in the War, Daddy? Dragnet (1967-1970 TV series). Support Your Local Sheriff. Support Your Local Gunfighter. Viva Max. The Apple Dumpling Gang (believe it or not, it was a box office hit, so I felt I had to include it.) MASH (TV series). Dragnet (1987 movie).
"He [Colonel Potter on MASH] was firm. He was a good officer and he had a good sense of humor. I think it's the best part I ever had."
(That may have been the best part Morgan ever had, but it wasn't the funniest character he ever played on MASH. A year before he became a regular member of the cast, when the man he eventually replaced, McLean Stevenson, was still on the show, Morgan played Major General Bartford Hamilton Steele. But first, a number --KJ)
"He [Colonel Potter on MASH] was firm. He was a good officer and he had a good sense of humor. I think it's the best part I ever had."
(That may have been the best part Morgan ever had, but it wasn't the funniest character he ever played on MASH. A year before he became a regular member of the cast, when the man he eventually replaced, McLean Stevenson, was still on the show, Morgan played Major General Bartford Hamilton Steele. But first, a number --KJ)
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Jingle Bawls
Religious Persecution 64 AD
Nero: I command the hungry lions be sent into the arena!
Christian: AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!
Religious Persecution 2011
Retail sales clerk: Happy holidays!
Christian : AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!
Nero: I command the hungry lions be sent into the arena!
Christian: AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!
Religious Persecution 2011
Retail sales clerk: Happy holidays!
Christian : AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!
Monday, November 28, 2011
Quips and Quotations (Moving Pictures Edition)
When we were growing up and saw a Ray Harryhausen movie, we were interested in how it was done. But thank God we got to go through the magic of seeing it before we knew how it was done. You were able to get this beautiful, pure, visceral response to something without knowing too much about it.
--Tim Burton
It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you watch them on a screen.
--Anthony Burgess
I don't think you go to a play to forget, or to a movie to be distracted. I think life generally is a distraction and that going to a movie is a way to get back, not go away.
--Tom Noonan
That [The Wizard of Oz] was my one big Hollywood hit, but, in a way, it hurt my picture career. After that, I was typecast as a lion, and there just weren't many parts for lions.
--Bert Lahr
Several tons of dynamite are set off in this picture--none of it under the right people.
--James Agee (Sorry, don't know the exact picture he's talking about, but there are no shortage of examples, including some made long after Mr. Agee passed on--KJ)
--Tim Burton
It's funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you watch them on a screen.
--Anthony Burgess
I don't think you go to a play to forget, or to a movie to be distracted. I think life generally is a distraction and that going to a movie is a way to get back, not go away.
--Tom Noonan
That [The Wizard of Oz] was my one big Hollywood hit, but, in a way, it hurt my picture career. After that, I was typecast as a lion, and there just weren't many parts for lions.
--Bert Lahr
Several tons of dynamite are set off in this picture--none of it under the right people.
--James Agee (Sorry, don't know the exact picture he's talking about, but there are no shortage of examples, including some made long after Mr. Agee passed on--KJ)
Monday, November 14, 2011
Archival Revival: Futures Market
(originally posted on 4/19/2009)
I once went to a psychic fair. I don't really believe in that stuff, but, like Fox Mulder on The X-Files, I want to believe. In anything. God, Zeus, Ouija boards, fortune cookies, eight balls, etc. If you don't believe in anything, then you're just stuck with, and stuck in, a cold, meaningless Universe, constantly seeking succor in soulless materialism. Quite frankly, I'm sick and tired of soulless materialism. At least I am when I get my credit card statement. With that in mind, I set out on my spiritual journey. Holiday Inn. The Cypress Room. 12-8. $10 entrance fee.
I entered the Cypress Room, and sat down with the first available soothsayer. I had expected an exotic looking woman dressed like a gypsy, but this was just a 40sh lady in a blouse and slacks who looked like she could have been a cub scout den mother.
"What can I do for you?" she asked cheerfully.
"I want you to tell my fortune," I replied.
"Palm reading or astrology? I do both."
"Which is more accurate?"
"That all depends which one you believe in more."
"I'm not sure I believe in either."
"Oh, you don't believe? But you should always believe, because if you don't--"
"Give me those two choices again"
"Palm reading or astrology."
"You said palm reading first. I'll go with palms"
"That's an odd way to decide, but OK. It'll cost you $20.
"Um...Is astrology cheaper?"
"Nope. They're both $20"
I pulled $20 out of my wallet, and handed it to her. She took the money, and then my right palm, and studied it carefully.
"Ah, you have one line going across, and then a smaller one running parallel, and then one long slant. See?"
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, I had one line going across, a smaller one running parallel, and one long slant.
"So, what does that mean?" I asked.
"I won't know until I examine your left palm."
So I held out my left palm.
"Ah," she said. "You have two kind of parallel slants that fade away."
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, two kind of parallel slants that faded away.
"And?" I asked.
"Hold on," she replied. From under the table, she pulled up a soft cover book about half the size of the metropolitan yellow pages. It was titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Palm Reading .
"You're consulting a book?" I asked.
"Well, you said you're not sure whether you believe or not. I thought a book might seem more credible."
She lay the book out in front of me so I could read along. She flipped to a chapter or section titled RIGHT PALM, and from there to a subsection titled PARALLEL LINES and from there to a sub-subsection titled LONG SLANT, eventually coming to a drawing that sort of looked like my right palm, except there seemed to be more space between the parallel lines. Anyway, she went to a left palm box on the right hand side. She guided her index finger down until she came to sub-sub-subsection titled FADE AWAY. She turned to the next page, and found a sub-sub-sub subsection titled PARALLEL LINES. Underneath all that was a prediction:
You are due for a surprise.
"What kind of surprise?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't say. If you knew what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"
"Well, when will this surprise happen?"
"The book won't tell you that either. If you knew the exact day and time of the surprise, you'd be expecting it, and there'd be no surprise."
"Can I see that book a second?"
She slid the book toward me.
I looked at the copyright. "This book came out four years ago. How do I know the surprise didn't happen in the last four years?"
She slid the book back toward her, and flipped through a few pages. "OK, it's right here in the introduction. 'Prophecies are not retroactive. Recipient must be fully informed'"
"I don't feel like I'm fully informed."
"Let me see what they mean by 'fully informed'. I'll look in the index."
"I'm surprised you're so dependent on a book. It kind of takes the mysticism out of it."
"Ah! Did you hear what you just said?! You're surprised! The prophecy came true!"
"What are you telling me? That the prediction is the prediction?!"
"As long as you heard the prediction before the prediction came true. There's nothing retroactive going on here!"
At that point I was ready to walk away in anger, except...the prediction had come true. I was surprised. But wait--when she first plunked that book on the table I was a bit surprised, and that was before the prediction. Of course, after the prediction, I was even more surprised that my surprise was the surprise.
"Do degrees of surprise count?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. You said you do astrology?"
"That will be another $20."
Another $20! I had already spent $10 to get into the fair in the first place, and then $20 on the palm reading. This spiritual journey was costing me more than soulless materialism! Still, when better to take the leap of faith then when you're in the hole? I gave her another $20.
"First off," she said. "When's your birthday?"
"December 15."
"So you're a Sagittarius. What year were you born?"
"1961"
"What time?"
"I don't know the exact time. It was in the morning."
"Predawn or post dawn?"
"Um, predawn, because I remember my father once telling me he was about to go to bed, when he suddenly had to rush my mother to the hospital."
The fortune teller nodded, reached under the table, and produced a book titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Astrology. Again, she laid the book out in front of me to see. She flipped the pages to a section or chapter titled, not surprisingly, SAGITTARIUS , then to a subsection titled DECEMBER, 15, then to a sub-subsection titled 1961, and to a sub-sub-subsection titled MORNING, and finally, a sub-sub-sub-subsection titled PRE-DAWN . Underneath all that was a prediction:
You shall experience sorrow.
"What kind of sorrow?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't tell you."
"Now, why not? There's no surprise involved!"
"Maybe not. But if you know what the sorrow is, you'll steel yourself against it, and it won't be as sorrowful."
"OK, this is enough psychic phenomenon for me. I'm sorry I even came."
"Ah! Did you hear yourself? You said you were sorry!"
"So?"
"The word sorry is derived from sorrow. Or sorrow is derived from sorry. One of the two. Sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow!"
I guess she had me there. I had come in contact with the supernatural. If only the supernatural hadn't ended as soon as it had begun.
"I don't suppose you read tea leaves?" I asked.
"Oh, I left that book at home."
I once went to a psychic fair. I don't really believe in that stuff, but, like Fox Mulder on The X-Files, I want to believe. In anything. God, Zeus, Ouija boards, fortune cookies, eight balls, etc. If you don't believe in anything, then you're just stuck with, and stuck in, a cold, meaningless Universe, constantly seeking succor in soulless materialism. Quite frankly, I'm sick and tired of soulless materialism. At least I am when I get my credit card statement. With that in mind, I set out on my spiritual journey. Holiday Inn. The Cypress Room. 12-8. $10 entrance fee.
I entered the Cypress Room, and sat down with the first available soothsayer. I had expected an exotic looking woman dressed like a gypsy, but this was just a 40sh lady in a blouse and slacks who looked like she could have been a cub scout den mother.
"What can I do for you?" she asked cheerfully.
"I want you to tell my fortune," I replied.
"Palm reading or astrology? I do both."
"Which is more accurate?"
"That all depends which one you believe in more."
"I'm not sure I believe in either."
"Oh, you don't believe? But you should always believe, because if you don't--"
"Give me those two choices again"
"Palm reading or astrology."
"You said palm reading first. I'll go with palms"
"That's an odd way to decide, but OK. It'll cost you $20.
"Um...Is astrology cheaper?"
"Nope. They're both $20"
I pulled $20 out of my wallet, and handed it to her. She took the money, and then my right palm, and studied it carefully.
"Ah, you have one line going across, and then a smaller one running parallel, and then one long slant. See?"
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, I had one line going across, a smaller one running parallel, and one long slant.
"So, what does that mean?" I asked.
"I won't know until I examine your left palm."
So I held out my left palm.
"Ah," she said. "You have two kind of parallel slants that fade away."
I looked at my palm. Sure enough, two kind of parallel slants that faded away.
"And?" I asked.
"Hold on," she replied. From under the table, she pulled up a soft cover book about half the size of the metropolitan yellow pages. It was titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Palm Reading .
"You're consulting a book?" I asked.
"Well, you said you're not sure whether you believe or not. I thought a book might seem more credible."
She lay the book out in front of me so I could read along. She flipped to a chapter or section titled RIGHT PALM, and from there to a subsection titled PARALLEL LINES and from there to a sub-subsection titled LONG SLANT, eventually coming to a drawing that sort of looked like my right palm, except there seemed to be more space between the parallel lines. Anyway, she went to a left palm box on the right hand side. She guided her index finger down until she came to sub-sub-subsection titled FADE AWAY. She turned to the next page, and found a sub-sub-sub subsection titled PARALLEL LINES. Underneath all that was a prediction:
You are due for a surprise.
"What kind of surprise?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't say. If you knew what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"
"Well, when will this surprise happen?"
"The book won't tell you that either. If you knew the exact day and time of the surprise, you'd be expecting it, and there'd be no surprise."
"Can I see that book a second?"
She slid the book toward me.
I looked at the copyright. "This book came out four years ago. How do I know the surprise didn't happen in the last four years?"
She slid the book back toward her, and flipped through a few pages. "OK, it's right here in the introduction. 'Prophecies are not retroactive. Recipient must be fully informed'"
"I don't feel like I'm fully informed."
"Let me see what they mean by 'fully informed'. I'll look in the index."
"I'm surprised you're so dependent on a book. It kind of takes the mysticism out of it."
"Ah! Did you hear what you just said?! You're surprised! The prophecy came true!"
"What are you telling me? That the prediction is the prediction?!"
"As long as you heard the prediction before the prediction came true. There's nothing retroactive going on here!"
At that point I was ready to walk away in anger, except...the prediction had come true. I was surprised. But wait--when she first plunked that book on the table I was a bit surprised, and that was before the prediction. Of course, after the prediction, I was even more surprised that my surprise was the surprise.
"Do degrees of surprise count?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. You said you do astrology?"
"That will be another $20."
Another $20! I had already spent $10 to get into the fair in the first place, and then $20 on the palm reading. This spiritual journey was costing me more than soulless materialism! Still, when better to take the leap of faith then when you're in the hole? I gave her another $20.
"First off," she said. "When's your birthday?"
"December 15."
"So you're a Sagittarius. What year were you born?"
"1961"
"What time?"
"I don't know the exact time. It was in the morning."
"Predawn or post dawn?"
"Um, predawn, because I remember my father once telling me he was about to go to bed, when he suddenly had to rush my mother to the hospital."
The fortune teller nodded, reached under the table, and produced a book titled Bilgewater's Complete Guide to Astrology. Again, she laid the book out in front of me to see. She flipped the pages to a section or chapter titled, not surprisingly, SAGITTARIUS , then to a subsection titled DECEMBER, 15, then to a sub-subsection titled 1961, and to a sub-sub-subsection titled MORNING, and finally, a sub-sub-sub-subsection titled PRE-DAWN . Underneath all that was a prediction:
You shall experience sorrow.
"What kind of sorrow?" I asked.
"Oh, the book won't tell you."
"Now, why not? There's no surprise involved!"
"Maybe not. But if you know what the sorrow is, you'll steel yourself against it, and it won't be as sorrowful."
"OK, this is enough psychic phenomenon for me. I'm sorry I even came."
"Ah! Did you hear yourself? You said you were sorry!"
"So?"
"The word sorry is derived from sorrow. Or sorrow is derived from sorry. One of the two. Sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow, sorry-sorrow!"
I guess she had me there. I had come in contact with the supernatural. If only the supernatural hadn't ended as soon as it had begun.
"I don't suppose you read tea leaves?" I asked.
"Oh, I left that book at home."
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Quips and Quotations (Baby Boomer Nostalgia Edition)
What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and they carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
--Buffalo Springfield
Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
Oh, what's going on, what's going on
Yeah, what's going on, oh, what's going on
--Marvin Gaye
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.
Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall overcome, some day.
--Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, many others.
(Guess I'm just an old fogey living in the past. I'll have something more contemporary next time. Promise--KJ)
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and they carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
--Buffalo Springfield
Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
Oh, what's going on, what's going on
Yeah, what's going on, oh, what's going on
--Marvin Gaye
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome,
We shall overcome, some day.
Oh, deep in my heart,
I do believe
We shall overcome, some day.
--Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, many others.
(Guess I'm just an old fogey living in the past. I'll have something more contemporary next time. Promise--KJ)
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