Daily Inflammation

Well, it is August 13th and for all you idiots…sorry, that was unkind.  I refer to all you people of greatly diminished intelligence that have been wandering in a daze under the influence of the orange golem saying “all will be revealed” with regard to the previous election.  I hope you will acknowledge nothing was revealed and apologize, or at least STFU.
Just a suggestion given with the purest of intentions.  It’s for your own good.

Tropical Depression Fred is headed to Florida.  With any luck it will complete the job there and then scoot across the Gulf to Texas!
That would certainly ease Fred’s depression.

 

Name-calling is the lowest form of social discourse.  People who resort to this form of communication to express dissatisfaction with someone holding an opposing point of view are, in most cases, ignorant, inarticulate and acting out because they have not been given everything they want on a silver platter without having to put in the work (see millennials), or are quite possibly just an egomaniac with an insatiable lust for adoration.

But a very few highly intelligent, humble and eloquent humanitarians such as myself, use it in a witty, satirical manner to address those people unaffected by facts and common sense.  

So if you refuse to wear a mask in public or have not been vaccinated out of fear or a misguided notion your rights are being violated then I am referring to you, you stupid, ignorant, jerk-faced butt-munch!

Thought for the Day from EdgarCayce.org:

“(Q) What can I do to get along better with people? To make them like me?
 (A) Do not MAKE people like you! Rather be yourself.”    (ECRL 982-4)

One moment while I react to the message:  Hahahahahahahahahaha! (That’s LOL for people over 60).
What a crock!  Here is a better way to go to get people to like you:

1. Keep your insane conspiracy theories to yourself.
2. Wear your baseball cap with the brim facing forward.
3. Give them money.

It’s just common sense people!

OK Walt:  We know you are changing for the better.  Prince Charming will no longer inflict life-saving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on Snow White without her permission and The Pirates of the Caribbean will stop groping the wenches and politely invite them to tea under the strict supervision of their legal guardians.

But you need to extend your newly acquired conscience to the animal kingdom.  Since his birth on the drawing board in 1932 Dippy Dog, his original name, has been saddled with the derogatory name of “Goofy.”  If he is intelligent enough to talk he should be treated with more respect.  Admittedly his southern accent does give insight to why he is considered to be of limited intelligence, but we know now that occasionally a southerner can have a modicum of common sense.  Use the name “Godfrey” and you won’t have to change his bath towels.

Cartoon dogs have enjoyed a much higher status in other studios.  In 1959 Warner Brothers introduced Mr. Peabody, a Beagle and inventor of a time travel machine used to teach history to Sherman, an intelligent adolescent boy thirsting for knowledge. (although there is some controversy regarding whether or not Mr. Peabody had secured the necessary permissions to take Sherman to other time periods and geographic locations). 

So c’mon Disney.  Fix it!  And while doing so look into the Pluto problem.  If he does not have the power of speech like Godfrey, at least provide him an interpreter proficient in sign language.

         

Dear Fellow Posters:
      For six days we write tons of drivel on all forms of social media, like this site, with the belief that people out there are reading every word and changing their minds to our point of view.  And under the guise of freedom of speech we spew racist and homophobic rants (I hear the angry sighs, “not me!” Yes, you!)  and pure lunacy including imagined fantasies about the 2nd amendment and the value in buying a product that was pretend developed by a Kardashian.
     Everyone regardless of religion, race, creed, or species should be allowed a day of rest.  So take one today.  Seriously, give it a rest!

Linda and I watched a series on BritBox called “The Café.”   It takes place in Weston-super-Mare, a city located in the historic county of Somerset, on a sandy bay of the Bristol Channel, southwestern England.  Although I have heard quite the opposite, in the show it appears to be a lovely and welcoming seaside village.  Our plan for next year includes a return trip to Blighty to have lunch at Cyril’s Cafe.  You can imagine our crushing disappointment when we learned that the cafe is only a wooden structure built as a set in which to film the show!   That really throws a spanner in the works.  Can you fathom the temerity of a show on the telly using a phony set to film a location program?  What a load of Codswallop!  I was willing to overlook polluted beaches and a high crime rate in exchange for posh coffee and chips at the legendary Cyril’s.  But this unexpected development turned our seemingly tickety-boo travel plans into a dog’s dinner. A POX UPON THEM!

(You may have noticed I am attempting an affectation of a written British accent.  If you think I come by it naturally due to my time in England and or possibly my high regard for our dear friends across the pond, please be assured that is not the case.  I am simply being a pretentious arse, a skill I have honed over these past 70 years. For more on pretentious arses see Madonna; the pseudo-British singer, formerly the wife of English film director Guy Ritchie, not the Virgin Mother).

But resilient we are, so make new travel plans we will! (Whoops, sorry. That’s Yoda-ish not British)

     In an effort to cash in on the extensive cash give away in America, Arnold Ibrahim and his wife Stella have no connection to the royal family but named their newborn son Nigerian Prince Ibrahim.  They have been using his name in emails sent to random U.S. citizens as they heard generous and caring Americans love to reward Nigerian Princes.  They continue to receive  payments from people expecting to get millions of dollars for doing nothing. In response to our request for information, Arnold emailed the following note; “We are gratified by the trust and friendship shown by our American brothers and sisters and hope to send that promised $5 million as soon as it is released, we are just not sure when and if that will happen, but we saw it on Facebook so it must be true.”
      Arnold then provided an example of one email he received from Jim Bob Kettle of Bum Fork, Texas.  Jim Bob sent him $5,000 and the account number and pin to his savings account saying, “im real excited to get you $5 milyon dollers cuz i cain’t even count how many MAGA hats I can buy wit that!” 
      Arnold and Stella have two older children; a 4 year old son, William Gates III Ibrahim and a 3 year old daughter Elon Musk Ibrahim.  They have filed the required forms to legally change their last name from Ibrahim to “Trustfund.”

On this day, August 5, 1957, a new low-budget TV show, American Bandstand, hosted by spooky personality Dick Clark debuted on national TV.  In its 32 years on air it never deviated from its winning format, lip-syncing pop stars and modestly dressed teenagers moving to the latest dances like  the Fly, Popeye, Swim, Boogaloo, Shingaling, Funky Broadway, Funky  Chicken, Hitch-hike, Hustle, Jerk, Locomotion, Monkey, Horse,  Twist, Transylvania Twist, Monster Mash, Mashed Potatoes, Gravy on the Side (not only a dance but also a diet tip for those trying to shed a few pounds, and who isn’t?),  the Stomp, Bristol Stomp and the Pas De Deux from Swan Lake (this one never reaching the widespread popularity expected) and many, many more.  Even I, sophisticated and worldly though I may be, succumbed to the allure of rocking out to American Bandstand.  And for those that have had the unfortunate experience of seeing me try to dance though totally bereft of rhythm and grace, may better understand the power of that show.

The real story here is the fact that for the next 55 years until just prior to his death in 2012, Dick Clark did not age.  The normal aging process was not visible in pictures between 1957 and 1997.  His skin was clear and wrinkle free, beyond anything Oil of Olay ever accomplished.  We can rule out a face-lift looking that natural; see Mickey Rourke, John Travolta, Rene Zellweger, Helen Hunt, Daryl Hannah and Courtney Cox (Warning: those prone to nightmares should not view these celebrity images).   Satanic intercession, pure and simple.   

For those still interested in taking an unnecessary risk to obtain Dick Clark-like results, I hear there is a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, California, doing some amazing work.  Contact Dr. B.L. Zebub on Rodeo Drive.  He is on all social media or alternatively draw a pentagram on the floor, stand in it at midnight and say his name 3 times.  You may get smooth skin but be prepared for a whopping bill that will, someday in the future, come due.

But be sure to wear socks or open yourself up to athlete’s foot, toenail fungus and a possible petty theft charge.  Better yet, stay the hell away from my shoes and mind your own freakin’ business, buttmunch!