My Excalibur is a No. 2 Pencil

This weekend, i am participating in a tournament in Connecticut for crossword puzzles enthusiasts. My wife (SEE THIS SCAR?? THAT'S THE PRICE I PAID FOR IGNORING THE WHAMMINESS!! I SAW A SHINY OBJECT! I WAS DISTRACTED!! THE WHAMMINESS DEMANDS CONSTANT EYE CONTACT!!) has been giving me a lot of helpful advice for success, such as answering all of the horizontal clues that i know first, then answering all of the vertical clues, then filling in the blank squares inbetwixt as the puzzle comes together. i can't consider the humiliation i shall bring upon my clan if anything less than the acquisition of the ultimate prize occurs. No undue pressure! i could become a tangle of nerves on the battlefield. Maybe i'll get a t-shirt out of this experience. Pencils will be sharp, minds will be sharper.

We all require specific diversions. Mine go up and down.

Sayonara, teethgrinders.

The Immovable Shlemiel Meets the Irresistible Shlimazl--When these Two Forces Meet, One is Sure to Plotz, and that`s Nisht Gut

Holy crud, that cacophonous din is the prickly introduction to a chapter that could otherwise be entitled "Fun with Yiddish". A person might actually feign a grin incorporating some of these fantastic yiddish expressions into his/her daily dialogue:
alter kocker--this literally means "old shitter". Hey, this is great, a position towards which a cashew like me can realistically aspire. "That alter kocker blew a red light and totalled my Chevy Celebrity!" True story.
dreck--shit. there's a trend developing here... dreck is junk, cheap and z-grade. "That Adam Sandler movie was pure dreck!"
feh--expression of distaste or disgust. Feh to the world, don't get your stupidity on my t-shirt, i have a sufficient headache getting out Colgate. A whole lotta smartness out there...
ibbledick--not feeling 100% kosher; ill; "under the weather". Imagine the supervillainous scenario: Guy walks into a bank, squints, everyone in the vicinity is overwhelmed with gaseous distension, loss of inertia and decrepitude. Ibbledick Ivan has struck again! NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO STOP HIM! NOT EVEN THE SUPERFRIENDS!! (always yearned for an opportunity to holler that declaration of omnipotence in a public location)

"Yiddish with Dick and Jane" by Ellis Weiner and Barbara Davilman, good reading, buy the book or be doomed with the ultimate indignity: a supporting role on a mediocre ABC sitcom!! THE BOY HAS CHUTZPAH!!!

g'night, you merry band of IHOPpers!

H+36651

i can't offer any manner of explanation for this blog title...the wife (YOU!! THE ZIPPITY-DOO-DAH FREAKAZOID WITH THE GRINNING SKELETON TATTOO!! YOU MUST REGARD THE WHAMMINESS WITH REVERENCE AND AWE!! THE REPERCUSSIONS ARE GRISLY!) slammed down her fist on the keyboard and that's what emerged on the screen. Can't battle kismet; kismet has fangs.

Today's entry focuses on the urge of the homo sapien population of this revolving blue-and-green orb to dance, dance, dance their cares into limbo-like status. All this dancing isn't relevant. Kellogg's Raisin Bran is relevant. Cacti are relevant. Venus flytraps are relevant. i don't know. Just seems to me like we are all in a lot of trouble...

Two divergent thoughts on two different highways:
The Turnpike: i owned a Venus flytrap three years ago. Our time together was brief. Venus flytraps subsist on a steady digestion of wayward insects and bits of meat. The meat was accessible; the insects eluded capture. i tried a strip of thick adhesive tape but the bugs were savvy. So, the Venus flytrap expired. My wife (THE WHAMMINESS IS ELECTRIC!! 10,000 VOLTS TO THE REVOLUTION!!) fed it hamburger and was crushed upon learning of its demise. *sigh* c'est la vie, boogers, and sonuvabitch.

The Highway: not too long ago, i caught an episode of the funnier-than-it-initially-looks sitcom, "Laverne and Shirley", on that network that consistently satisfies like an Oreo smoothie, TV Land. Laverne was the 1,000th customer of the local grocery store, so she and Shirl won a shopping spree, and it was neato-bo-beato. if i won a shopping spree at the Stop 'n' Shop, my spree would be limited to two aisles: the milk and the cereal. Lotsa milk, lots more cereal. i can get by on cereal and milk, FO' REAL, YO! Kellogg's Frosted Flakes, Kellogg's Corn Pops, Rice Krispies, Rice Krispies TREATS cereal, Cinnamon Life, Kix, Oreo O's, Cap'n Crunch, Cookie Crisp...it's gonna be beautiful, this paradise of cereal and milk. Those who dare invade my eden (aside from my boo-tee-ful bride) get plucked from the timestream.

Today i inadvertently took my wife's wallet to work with me, so she had to drive to her grandfather's house minus the proper paperwork. i'm a stinkdoodle, but she loves me because i get her juice.

sayonara, grasshoppers.

He Who Owns the Clicker Owns the World

i have decided that what is on the Cartoon Network nowadays is crap. So, we are all going to depart this universe for an alternate reality where i run the cartoon kingdom. Oh my god, am i serious?? Yes, this is very very serious business and here we go...SIT DOWN!! ESCAPE IS FUTILE!!
Weekday Schedule:
6:00 am--Groove Goolies
6:30 am--Mr. Magoo
7:00 am--The Bullwinkle Show
7:30 am--George of the Jungle
8:00 am--Deputy Dawg
8:30 am--Mighty Mouse
9:00 am--Looney Tunes
10:00 am--Woody Woodpecker
10:30 am--Popeye
11:00 am--Pink Panther
11:30 am--Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids
12:00 pm--The Real Ghostbusters
12:30 pm--Jonny Quest
1:00 pm--Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
1:30 pm--The Tick
2:00 pm--He-Man and the Masters of the Universe
2:30 pm--She-Ra: Princess of Power
3:00 pm--M.A.S.K.
3:30 pm--G.I. Joe
4:00 pm--Thundercats
4:30 pm--Silverhawks
5:00 pm--Challenge of the Go-Bots
5:30 pm--The Transformers
6:00 pm--Voltron, Defender of the Universe
6:30 pm--Gigantor
7:00 pm--Hanna-Barbera World of Super Adventure (This was a syndicated show from the 80's that combined Space Ghost, Birdman, Galaxy Trio, Herculoids, Shazzan, Dino Boy, Mightor, Moby Dick, The Impossibles and Frankenstein Jr.)
7:30 pm--Marvel Superheroes (syndicated show from the 60's that featured Thor, Hulk, Sub-Mariner, Captain America and Iron Man)
8:00 pm--Scooby-Doo
9:00 pm--Superfriends
10:00 pm--Spider-Man: The Animated Series
10:30 pm--X-Men: The Animated Series
11:00 pm--Batman: The Animated Series
11:30 pm--Superman: The Animated Series
12:00 am--Speed Racer
12:30 am--Robotech
1:00 am--Battle fo the Planets
1:30 am--Star Blazers
2:00 am--Star Trek: The Animated Series
2:30 am--Return to the Planet of the Apes (Remember that one??)
3:00 am--Abbott and Costello (long-forgotten toon of the 60's)
3:30 am--Laurel and Hardy (another long-forgotten toon of the 60's)
4:00 am--Dick Tracy
4:30 am--The Jackson 5ive
5:00 am--Batfink
5:30 am--Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse

Important: The schedule from 8 pm to 6 am never changes. Sooooo all of those programs are on 7 days a week!

ISN'T THIS EXCITING?!?!?

Saturday Schedule:
6:00 am--Top Cat
6:30 am--Wally Gator
7:00 am--Huckleberry Hound
7:30 am--The Magilla Gorilla Show
8:00 am--Quick Draw McGraw
8:30 am--Peter Potamus and his Magical Flying Balloon
9:00 am--The Atom Ant/Hillbilly Bears Show
9:30 am--The Secret Squirrel/Squiddly Diddly Show
10:00 am--Dastardly & Muttley
10:30 am--Wacky Race
11:00 am--Yogi Bear
11:30 am--Yogi's Gang
12:00 pm--Yogi's Treasure Hunt
12:30 pm--Scooby's All-Star Laff-a-Lympics
1:00 pm--Josie and the Pussycats
1:30 pm--Josie and the Pussycats in Outer Space
2:00 pm--Godzilla
2:30 pm--Hong Kong Phooey
3:00 pm--Jabberjaw
3:30 pm--Speed Buggy
4:00 pm--Clue Club
4:30 pm--Goober and the Ghost Chasers
5:00 pm--The Funky Phantom
5:30 pm--The New Shmoo
6:00 pm--The Amazing Chan and the Chan Clan
6:30 pm--Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels
7:00 pm--Fangface
7:30 pm--Dynomutt, Dog Wonder

Sunday Schedule:
6:00 am--The Inhumanoids (remember THAT one?!?)
6:30 am--Jem
7:00 am--Hulk Hogan's Rock and Wrestling
8:00 am--The Mighty Heroes
8:30 am--Mr. T
9:00 am--Mighty Orbots
9:30 am--Turbo Teen
10:00 am--Drak Pack
10:30 am--Dungeons and Dragons
11:00 am--Thundarr the Barbarian
11:30 am--Blackstarr
12:00 am--The Kids Super Power Hour with Shazam!
1:00 pm--The Plastic Man Comedy Adventure Show
2:00 pm--Rickety Rocket (Remember THAT one?!?!)
2:30 pm--Goldie Gold and Action Jack
3:00 pm--The Batman-Superman Hour (this show will have the Filmation super-hero toons of the 60's: Superman, Batman, Aquaman, Superboy, Teen Titans, Flash, etc.)
4:00 pm--The New Adventures of Batman (Filmation toon of the 70's with Bat-Mite)
4:30 pm--Superman '88 (short-lived CBS toon)
5:00 pm--The Fantastic Four
5:30 pm--The New Fantastic Four (from the 70's)
6:00 pm--Spider-Man (greatest theme song EVER! DON'T ARGUE!!)
6:30 pm--Spider-Woman
7:00 pm--The Incredible Hulk/Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends Hour (From the 80's)

Okay, all of you are convinced of my insanity. Consider this: is it i who is Captain Crazy...or does the fact that such a line-up does not exist strike you as slightly more berzerk???

Sayonara, noodle-heads.

The Shrug that Shattered Tokyo

My wife (BOW DOWN! HER WHAMMINESS IS INCOMPARABLE AND AWESOME!) has an extensive collection of nail polishes, and some of the names of these colors plague my waking moments. There is a color known as "After Sex"--this is red. "Beach Party"--this is not the color of sand. Actually, i gotta tell ya: this reminds me of the sand in the hourglass of Father Time, not the grains upon which i tread barefoot and happy-like at Seaside Heights, N.J. Father Time is a powerful deity with an agitated triggerfinger, not the type who would gleefully splatter his image upon billboards and obnoxious full-page advertisements in Jane magazine for the purpose of product placement. So...yeah. i'm befuddled. People are earning salaries for devising these enigmatic designations for their nail polishes and they are all laughing at our expense. It's a disturbing guffaw, akin to the deadly chuckle of Batman's El Numero Uno Adversary, the Joker, whenever the Clown Prince of Crime would fricasee a hapless victim with a joy buzzer. i always preferred the Riddler, myself. We are both crossword puzzle fiends.

I don't like this business of naming nail polishes. No good will come of this...starts with nail polishes, mutates into a tyrannical grip upon the population,trying to compel us to buy ketchup when we don't need it and to pretend like the people who appear on MTV's "The Real World" really arejust like the rest of us.

My wife has just said, "You're still writing about nail polish?!" as she polishes off one of my discarded crossword puzzles. i work on them in pen, and when an abundance of unacceptable errors has occurred, i draw a diagonal line through the puzzle, signifying its tragic demise. i don't like when that happens but i am resigned to my own mortality and the evanessence of existence's sundry distractions, as well; therefore, i don't hesitate to walk away when i feel that the magic has evaporated.

sayonara, chickpeas.

The Secret Ingredient is....ROBITUSSIN!!!!

A hush falls over the stunned crowd! An obese woman who has been sweating profusely through her paisley-patterned muumuu has swooned and collapsed! Juvenile delinquents weep uncontrollably and pontificate upon the horrors of everyday existence! Tonight's "Iron Chef" has taken a dramatic turn towards the unabashedly WUH-WUH-WACKY with the revelation of the secret ingredient...Robitussin!

Fondly, i recall the premiere episode of the mesmerizing phenomenon that is "Iron Chef". i was watching the program in the central Pennsylvanian lair of that infamous gang of cutthroats, the Pennsylvania Phi chapter of the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity. Oy, what a rowdy bunch of nincompoops...dangle a cold can of Meisterbrau in front of their noses and they will solve the riddles of the cosmos. The secret ingredient was meat (MEAT! how imaginative! "The secret ingredient is AIR!" "The secret ingredient is FRIENDSHIP!" "the secret ingredient is CORN....ON THE COB!!") and the dogs howled with approval. The hunger had been satisfied.

Often, this is entertainment. Occasionally, i can only furrow my brow and consider the amount of spackle that will be required to fill the newly-ruptured cranny on the hard-to-reach backside of humanity.

GOT AN ITCH???

Go Towards the Light, Go Towards the Light...No no, Go Towards the Calamari...

The first morsel of dumbness that i will address involves the unjustifiably underappreciated king of the blue and salty, Aquaman.

COMIC BOOK GEEK!!! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!!

Yes, Aquaman. Poor fella. People don't like the guy. This bothers me immensely. You and the wife take a Carnival Cruise to the Islands Where Tourists Get Eaten Alive, both of you are out on the lido deck feeling warm and fuzzy, one too many Fuzzy Navels, SPLASH! you're in the deep. Here comes the sharks! Oy ve, doom and gloom with pointy teeth! Hoi polloi, what is this...!? The sharks are being squished by a number of slimy tentacles! Two friendly giddy dolphins have emerged to carry you to safety! Tons of happiness! YAY AQUAMAN!

"The State", you remember that t.v. show, yes? Michael Ian Black, the schmuck whose career is so ludicrously abysmal that Tinseltown has demoted him to render uninspired witticisms on those VH1 "I Love the 80's/I Love the 90's/I Love the 70's/I Love Ham and Cheese" programs, was on that MTV variety series back in the mid-90's. There was a skit on that show that caused me to throw a clock radio at my life-size cardboard stand-up of Bret "Hitman" Hart that involved the members of the Justice League of America harassing the Atlantean Avenger, mocking him by saying "Go talk to some fish!" Bummed me out. "The State" was such a nice group of youngsters until the airing of that particular episode. CHICKEN POX ON THEIR PRIVATES!!

Aquaman will gather all of the denizens of the hydrosphere in a revolution against the air-breathers and there will be bloodshed, most certainly. He won't harm me, so i am not concerned. i'm a booster! Treat your goldfish nicely, world!! That little fishy knows what's happening...

THUD!

So this is blog, huh? Freakin' wild. My lovely wife--the illustrious goddess of thunder, lightning, and whammy bars--has been pestering me to join this band of misfits, reprobates, and ne'er-do-wells since...heck, what does it matter? i am here, in it for the long haul and waiting for the low hum, and i am ready to play dodgeball.

COUGH!

There exist specific ideologies in society that are downright loathsome. These beliefs, popular or generally ignored, give me mental paper cuts. i want to acknowledge a selection of these dreadful gremlins, shake their hands, invite 'em into my spacious (AUDACIOUS!) apartment, tie 'em to cold and uncomfortable steel folding chairs, and hurl five-dollar SAT vocabulary at 'em until they shrivel to the size of dust mites. At that juncture, these diminutive once-mighty snippets of nastiness will suffer the ultimate indignity of being squashed beneath my black Chuck Taylors.

Sounds neato, huh? Yeah, i'll getcha. The aforementioned information is a disclaimer to those will traipse in my muck. Chew the disclaimer 37 times before swallowing, wash it down with Snapple. Please heed that advice because i am the authority on choking and gagging due to my notoriously small gullet which prevents me from ingesting food without incident. My wife (BOW DOWN BEFORE HER WHAMMINESS!!) insists that there is no such thing as having a small gullet, but that topic is highly argumentative.

My wife provided the layout for my blog since i am technologically inept. She is the cat's meow! Right now, she is tormenting the household feline with bubbles, so i must tend to that highly critical matter.

Sayonara, kids.