Daily Inflammation

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!

On this day, August 3rd in the year 8 AD, Roman Empire general and future emperor Tiberius defeated the Dalmatians on the river Bathinus.  Heroic tales of the battle became legend throughout the empire and may have been a driving force in Tiberius’ eventual rise to power.

It was not until 1956 that the truth about the battle was exposed by ancient history scholar Dodie Smith in her epic treatise “One Hundred and One Dalmatians.”  It was not an army of Delmatae soldiers, an Illyrian tribe in Dalmatia, contemporary southern Croatia and western Bosnia and Herzegovina, but rather a pack of unruly dogs.  Disney Studios, in a departure from their usual formula films, immortalized the heroics of the Dalmatians by bringing the epic battle to the big screen in a 1961 animated film.

Although the Disney film remained true to Smith’s work we did learn one historical fact not in the book.  Tiberius, whose marriage was reportedly on the rocks due to his frequent departures for battle and rumored bouts of E.D. was able to rekindle the romance in his relationship by returning home from this battle and presenting his wife with a full length fur coat; white with black spots.

On June 11th I introduced a feature where I impart sage advice based on questions from my readers, be they real or imagined (and, as you can imagine, most are imagined…Love that word!). Today’s Question comes from a reader in Tanganyika.  Not Tanganyika, Africa now known as Tanzania, but The Tanganyika Wildlife Park in Goddard, Kansas. The actual letter, be it real or…you know, is printed in its entirety.

Dear Frederick:
      I am a 35 year old female Keeper at the Tanganyika Wildlife Park in Goddard, Kansas.  In hopes of maintaining my anonymity with this delicate subject I have changed my name, age, gender, job title, location and place of employment, but everything else is absolutely true. While working at the animal complex I was assigned to the sloths.  As everyone knows Sloths are a group of arboreal Neotropical xenarthran mammals, constituting the suborder Folivora. My sloth was named Felmar and he was special. Let me cut to the chase; I fell deeply in love, romantic love, with Felmar and I know he feels the same. Although there is a language barrier his gaze and touch are universal messages in any language…or species. We are planning to escape together and find some place where our special relationship will be accepted.  I have some money saved and we will find a spot where he can munch on leaves, twigs and buds so finances are not a problem.
My question is: in a world where true love is so hard to find and comes but once in a lifetime, does it make sense to cast aside modern conventions and try to find our place in the world?    
Confused in Kansas

Dear Confused:
     Sure, go for it. What the hell.
Frederick
(Address your questions to “Ask Frederick” c/o this email)

Above is another headline from my inbox.  This one linked to an article that was first published in December of 2020 which made me wonder why they would reprint such an old article. While the information is still valid they could have shortened it to “The One Place You Are Most Likely to Catch Covid.”  The answer: FLORIDA.

I’d like to see an article titled “The 35 Questions That All Have the Same Answer: FLORIDA.  Here’s a few to start:

• Where are you most likely to catch Covid?
• Where is the most unpleasant weather in the Country?
• Where can you get up close and personal with alligators and pythons in the same residential neighborhood?
• What State has a Governor who puts his political career above the welfare of his constituents?
• What state’s has the least amount of residents with IQs in triple digits?
• What state is as miserable to live in as Alabama, Mississippi or Texas?
• Where do Mr. and Mrs. Ivanka Trump live since being shunned in New York.
• In what state are the Palmetto Bugs so large they are often mistaken for Volkswagen Beetles?
• What state grows the most oranges, has the most Golf courses and the most orange colored golfers? 

To paraphrase a thought from Horace Greely: “Go North Young Man!”

Dear Betterfredthandead-heads:
      In my selfless attempt to impart the wisdom of the ages to my dedicated and reverent followers I may have been a bit too obscure in my previous posts, leaving doubt about my true intentions.  Looking back over my communications I see where I appeared to suggest my legion of devotees provide me, at their expense, trifles like a million dollars in cash, tickets for an insanely expensive world tour or a myriad of alternative examples of corporeal wealth.  I want to set the record straight. 

I am in no way suggesting you give me money.  Your adoration is sufficient payment for all I do.  But if you are moved to provide me with worldly tokens of your affection, far be it from to interfere with your humanitarian desires.  The saying goes “you can’t take it with you,” so if you are moved to get up off of some of those big bucks gathering cobwebs in a Health Savings Account or aimlessly idling in your children’s college fund, feel free to push a little my way, who’s to stop you?  

It’s like my therapist says when I fall behind: “If you don’t pay for the sessions you can’t get better!”