Monday, February 8, 2016

My Summer Vacation

                    

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
It was not my best day.  The summer sun heated my tea shop although I had open the front door and opened every window.  My customers added to my misery too.  They kept complaining about his lordship.  Always the same complaints, "his evilness this" or "his greediness that".  Too much talk and not enough buying.  I wanted to be away from here and from them.

Late in the afternoon, a footman came into my tea shop and ordered all my customers to leave.  Then, in walked his lordship.  He was resplendent as you would expect of the nobility in fine well fitted and expensive clothes inlaid with gold thread.  It made him glow in the sunshine.


His lordship had a strange proposal for me.  He suggested that we change bodies and that I become him for two weeks or so.  He said to think of it as a vacation from my life. 

I asked, "That is most generous My Lord, but why would you do this thing?   I am a struggling tea shop owner who works long hours, from morning tea to night-time tea, to pay my bills and to have food and a roof and you are a lord and own almost everything in the province."

His lordship replied, "I had a dream.  I dreamed that God commanded me to change myself with one of the common folk, like yourself,  to experience how you live.  I have chosen you because you are neither poor nor rich.  I will live your life while you live mine." 

Sunday, January 31, 2016

Striking In Pink

                  
by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
At his daily news conference, Grand City's Police Chief, George Trueblueblood, mentioned that his patrol officers reported that they have not seen any prostitutes on the streets for the past week. 

When questioned by reporters, the Chief commented, "There are rumors about a dispute between the women and their pimps.  The Vice Squad is looking into it. This is a good trend and I hope it continues. Yes, it looks like the Ladies of the Evening have gone on strike and have stayed home."

I visited a local bar with a reputation as a meeting place for men and women.  I interviewed some of the men there and coincidentally, they were all named John. 

Said one John, "I just wanted to have a little fun.  I don't want them to strike."
 

Said another John, "What are we suppose to do?  Go home to our wives?"
 

Since none of the wives were present, I could not determine if they appreciated the increased attention from their husbands.

This reporter was confronted by two women in slinky pink dresses with over- exposed cleavages.  The first identified herself as Lady Holly and apologized for intruding.  She claimed to be a Working Girl and wanted to express their position, "We are on strike to improve our working conditions.  We want a better share of the money.  We do all the work and they, our pimps, get all the profits."

Her companion stated, "We are also looking for some other improvements too.  We are demanding softer mattresses.   In this business, we take quite a pounding and a softer mattress is a must." 

She continued, "We want some physical training too.  If we improve our skills, we can offer more services and charge more.  Every one benefits.  We want some acting lessons.  We can't just lie there and let things happen. Our customers like it when we participate.  We have to fake it to please our customers.  Its not easy to fake it time after time, hour after hour."

Added the first, "That’'s right.  We want uniforms too.  The way young girls dress now, It’s hard to tell who is a working girl.  A uniform will tell our customers who we are.  Give us a professional look."


None of the pimps present would comment on the ladies' demands. 

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Lilly - Baked Goods

                   

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
Lilly says that guys are annoying.  They are always mistaking her natural friendliness as an invitation to other things.

"There I was in Starbucks waiting for the Barista to make my Macchiato.  Bored with nothing else to do, I say to
this guy having a coffee and Danish, 'That looks good.'

He says, 'It is. Would you like some?'

I go, 'No thanks.  You can eat it for me.'

Then he says, 'What else can I eat for you?'

See what I mean?  And he wasn't even cute."

 

Sunday, January 17, 2016

My Billion Dollar Lottery Win

                         
by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
I am preoccupied these days thinking about the lottery and that 1.6 BILLION dollars I shockingly didn't win.  There are other lotteries of course.  The most famous lottery is a short story by Shirley Jackson called, The Lottery.  I am not going to tell you about that story.  You will have to read it to find out why it's so famous.  Another famous lottery that had my attention was the military draft back in the Vietnam War years.  

Now that this particular drawing is one for the history books, there is only one thing to do: Start planning for the next one.

So what will I do with this money, this 1.6 BILLION dollars?  First how much would I have to work with?  The cash amount is some 900 MILLION.  That a big number and more money than I can comprehend.  That is more money than all my family's income for the last thousand years added together, assuming that I can trace all them. 

There are some 100 people who work in my part of the company.  We all could get four million each and that includes the people I don't like, and and there would still be money left over.  We could all retire the next day.  Think how many companies' executive leaders dread a win in one of the office pools.

I assume that half of the 900 MILLION dollars will disappear in taxes - it always does!  So I end up with 450 MILLION dollars.  If I want to give away a couple of millions or so to all the people I know, I would have to pay a gift tax.  The money is taxed twice, once for me winning it and second for me giving it away.  Imagine that, the government taxes you for being generous.  That ain't right.

My wife has to get a share too.  It's only right that she gets half.  Share and share alike.  It's her reward for marrying me other than having me as her husband of course.  So that leaves me with 225 MILLION.  Wait a minute, wasn't the lottery winner suppose to get 1.6 BILLION?

Ultimately, as far as I can see, it comes down to what would I like to do for myself.  I would like a new house.  I don't want a mansion because I cannot fathom what I would do in a twenty bedroom house where there will be parts of the house that I never use or ever visit.  I would like a larger bedroom, a gym, a pool, a huge air conditioned/heated garage with marble floors for my seven cars - one for each day, a library, and an office where I can work to figure out what to do with the rest of this money.  What a tough job.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Lilly - A Triple Play Home Run

                          
by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
I am sitting in the lunch room with Lilly, gossiping with her about company business when out of nowhere she asks me, "Have you ever been in a threesome?"

Me, surprised and embarrassed, and apparently living a sheltered life, answer, "No."

Lilly continues, "Well, let me tell you, my girlfriend is such a B.  We were in a club, showing off everything we got in cutesy dresses and lots of cleavage.  These guys kept offering us drinks and talking trash about how good a man they are and how good a time we would have with them. 

My girlfriend gets disgusted with them and all their trash talk so she says, 'Let's mess with the next one.'

So one guy comes over and starts his trash talk.  My girlfriend looks hard at the guy, straight in his eye with her mean stare, steps towards him and sticks her boobs in his face and asks him, 'Are you man enough to take on the two of us?'

I am standing behind her and I see the guy's mouth drop open, don't have a thing to say, and he scampers off.

I think it would have been a lot more fun to find out if any of these guys were up to it."


Friday, January 1, 2016

Getting a Late Start on Early January

                        

by Vol-E

At Christmastime in 2014, I was enjoying the used desktop computer I had bought for a song from the I.T. department at my workplace. Things at home were a little awkward and out of order because my son Wally had moved in with us and we were still transitioning the office I'd used for 7 years into his private space. But for both of us, it was nice having an up-to-date, fast computer.

At least until just after Christmas. Then the new computer died with no warning. Having been without a reliable machine for some time, I was in the habit of saving everything to the cloud, so I didn't lose much other than the pleasure of typing with two hands and being able to surf to my heart's content. I simply went back to using my Android phone as a computer.

But just before that mini-calamity, I had suggested to my friend The Urban Blabbermouth that we post a recap of the year we'd had. It was embarrassing not to be fully able to follow through with something I had suggested, and I appreciate the extent that he was able to do so.

ALL THAT HAS NOW CHANGED...mwahahahaha.

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Lilly - Elevator Pitch

                          Image result for flirting with her personal trainer

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
Lilly is a natural storyteller.  She is so good that all she needs is a seed remark and she will tell you a story to go with your remark.   Plus, she can tell the story in the time that it takes for an elevator to go from the thirtieth floor to the lobby.  She is so good that I have deleted my story and will, instead, tell you hers.

I meet Lilly in the elevator and just to be ornery, I say to her, "Girl's pick-up line."

Lilly laughs and says, "Guys are so easy.  All I have to do is send them a signal that I am interested and they will run with it.  I was in the gym and there was Mr. Hunk working with a weight machine.  I didn't know him but I wanted to.  So I go over and I stand next to him. 

He sees me watching him and he says, 'Can I help you?'

I answer, 'I want to work on my abs.  Are you a trainer?'

He replies, 'No but I can help you.'

After ten minutes of exercises and me pretending that I am interested in working my abs and he pretending to train my abs, I say to him, 'Is this as physical as we are going to get?"


Score: Lilly - 10, Me - 0.

Friday, December 11, 2015

May The Force be with you

                        

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
Antonia Potter, the current Wand Duel champion of the Wizards, and Donovan McGreggor, the Jedi Knight champion, bowed to each other in the battle arena, then assumed their combat stance.  She stood at attention, wand in hand, and he, in the En Garde pose, light saber at the ready.  They were the finalist in the Galactic Protection Forces Psi Combat Championships. 

The PCC was a two rule contest - only  extra-powered humans of the Galactic Protection Forces were allowed to compete and Do Not Kill Your Opponent.  Contestants interpreted the Do Not Kill rule to permit near lethal wounding with the unwritten proviso that the wound would not eventually hamper the combatant's military career. 

This was the moment that the fans waited for.  Long have they debated which was more powerful: wand backed with magic or light saber backed with The Force.  The Experts in these things were thrilled as they too were busy debating what was magic and what was The Force and was all this different sides of the same effect. The PCC Combatants had no such debate as each was busy ferociously glaring at each other.     

Donovan's pose was an invitation to Antonia to commence the contest with a light saber duel.  She whispered Lux Lumina and a blade of green light grew from the end of her wand.  Donovan immediately leaped into the air at her.  Antonia twirled to the right to parry and the clash of the light blades erupted in sparks.  Thrust-parry-twirl-sparks, thrust-parry-twirl-sparks, they went.  With each twirl, Antonia stepped backwards, losing ground, and approaching the edge of the arena.  Donovan's blade flew in an arc straight to her right shoulder and quickly changed directions moving toward her torso.  Antonia conjured a force field in front of her torso to block the blade.  She was using her magic to counter Donovan's use of his Force to sense her movements.

Antonia teleported to the opposite side of the arena and roared Stupefy.  Donovan, without looking, reached behind his back with his light saber and blocked the spell.  The spell ricocheted into the audience stunning the twenty or so fans who were too slow to put up a defensive block.   Another reason for the No Kill rule. 

Donovan turned, smiled, levitated Antonia and flipped her on her head.  Upside down, Antonia glowered at Donovan as she flew across the arena and ferociously re-engaged him in the light saber duel driving him backwards.  The audience erupted into applause.

Antonia smiled recalling how much she enjoyed the last evening that she and Donovan were in this kind of sixty-nine position.  Distracted, she was not in time to parry Donovan's light saber swinging low, through her defense, to smite her on her head.  Unconscious, down she went and it was over.  Donovan was the Galactic Protection Forces Psi Combat Champion.

Friday, December 4, 2015

Tick-Tock goes the Baby Clock

                     

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
I have read in many places that as countries get richer,  the people who live in there have fewer children.  This is odd because as people get richer, they can afford to have more children and yet they go the opposite way. 

Social scientists been trying to figure out why. Some have proposed reasons like the high cost to educate children; watching more television so having less sex;  and of course, birth control pills.

I favor a simpler view, some women do not want to have children.  Some women, despite their biology reminding them to become mothers, do not have the inclination to be mothers.  This is not a new thought to anyone.  Over these many centuries, there were many women who did not want children but they had them anyway.  But, what else could these women do?  The women were dependent on men for their survival and it was their role to have children while the men went hunting for food.

Sometimes it is obvious who these women are.  They are your neighbors whom you can easily see are not good mothers and probably together with the father, not good parents at all.  

As countries got richer, women had more opportunities and became more independent of men.  Women got jobs and earned enough money to take care of themselves.  The women became more interested in their careers than in starting a family.  Does that sound like the behavior of some men you know?   Take a look at the history of Hollywood to see how many actresses never had children. 

The average in rich countries is now approximately 1.5 kids.  My guess is that having at least one child is enough to fulfill the reproductive impetus i.e., the biological clock and also to get the parents off their backs.   Say, how does one have half a kid?   

An average of less than two children is a problem.  It means that when the two adult parents die, they are replaced by less than two children in the next generation.  If that replacement rate stays the same, then the rich countries will run out of people.  

Saturday, November 21, 2015

The Man with the Pointed Ears

                                        Image result for sex therapy
by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
The Master was meeting his former Acolyte for lunch.  She was his student for the last fourteen years.  It was an arrangement her father had setup more for his convenience than for her well being.  The Master had been her mentor, and when needed, her father when her father did not have time for her.  The Master did not always have life solutions for her but he loved her and helped her to grow into a strong and appreciated woman.

The Master chose McDonald's Fast Food restaurant for their meeting as he liked the mundane and ordinary decor.  It was quite a contrast with the travels of his interstellar life.

"How is your marriage going?" asked the Master.  The Acolyte had gotten married three months ago.

"It's good.  We are still learning to live together.  It is better than it use to be.  James is learning to be neater.  Just the other day, he said 'you know, I could be better about putting my clothes away."

"Wonderful.  How is the sex?"

"Good.  There is just so much of it"

"Is it good for you?"

"It's better."

"Do you have orgasms?"

"That's private, between James and I.  I don't want to talk about it."

Monday, November 16, 2015

God's Plan for Man

                              Image result for unknown paternity

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
As the top dog, the Alpha male of the pack, he guarded his harem like, well, like a rabid dog. He could not help himself, it is what God had created in him. His sole purpose in life was to sire as many pups as he could for as long as he could.  God favored the Alpha and nick-named him Abe.

Abe was a wily Alpha. He was always on patrol for intruders. To keep his harem to himself, he took over a den with a limited entrance as home to his harem. By this way, he could see any other male coming to sniff around. He would be able to challenge them and to chase them off. As the Alpha, he was mostly successful at this.

I say mostly because his harem did not share his views. The "wives" of his harem liked the idea that they can choose their mates. Some of them did not like the Alpha but they did comply to his wishes, at least they did so in his presence. He was, after all, The Alpha and he, and by extension, they, had extra privileges such as the first choice in any of the pack's kills. Many of the harem did prefer other males in the pack and certainly would have preferred a different alpha.

The trouble for Abe was that as much as he tried, he could not be every where. Some of his harem took advantage of this. They permitted other males in the pack to visit and indulged themselves in some very amorous activities. 
 
The other males in the pack were also wily.  When Abe was visiting one of his harem and was too busy to notice, the other males would sneak in and mate with any willing member of the harem.  The wily males would also act as wing-men for each other.  Some would approach the harem and engage the Alpha's attention and while Abe was chasing them, the others would meet up with willing members of the harem.  Such is the exciting life of pack males, always striving to gain the benefits of a harem or any kind of pack benefits for that matter.   

As you might expect, many of the pups born to the harem were not the offspring of the Alpha. The Abe did not know this.  So confident was he in his status as Alpha and in his measures to guard his harem that it never occurred to him that it was possible for a pup not to be his.

The pups benefited from the mixing of DNA pool. They inherited useful skills: the Alpha's strength and hunting talents; the wiliness of the lesser males; and the improved chances for the pack to survive and prosper.

God was contented as all was as it should be.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

My Panhandling Neighbors

             

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~  
Unlike my friend Vol-E in her post I'm Okay. You're Okay. Now Leave Me Alone and Go Away!, I can’t claim that I am waylaid by my neighbors in my driveway begging for money.  I am, however, often waylaid by panhandlers around my office.  They like to stand by the entrance to all the lunch-time eateries begging for money to buy some food.  The panhandlers are working guilty feelings as we can all understand being hungry and having no food, yet there we are getting our lunches while another person starves.  Sheer genius, right out of Oliver Twist’s School of Fagin.

Lest you think that this guilty begging is a guy thing, women have now taken up begging positions on the sidewalk to the eateries.  Their guilty scam is to put a baby on display.  I suppose that one can always borrow a niece or nephew for this enterprise.

Now me, I ignore them all. Guilt does on work on me because I already ease my guilty conscious by giving money to Food Bank charities.

I remember one panhandler in particular.  He appeared at the entrance to my favorite eatery.  He was there every day begging for money and I ignored him.  I cannot say how successful he was as he did not present a particularly sympathetic appearance.  He wore clean jeans and a clean Tee shirt but he had a beer belly.  Really????!!!!  How can anyone give money to a guy with a beer belly?  The least he could do was to look needy.

One day, Beer Belly broke the unwritten rules of the street and asked me, “Why don’t you ever give me any money?” Of all the nerve! What bad manners.  My first thought was, "Do I look like a consumer focus group to you?"  My next thought was, “You would just go have some fun in a bar with my money.  I can do that myself.”  Instead, I said, “Not today.”  That’s usually how I respond to anyone on the street asking me for money when I cannot in good manners ignore them.  Beer Belly never asked me for money anymore after that.

After a summer or so, Beer Belly disappeared.  Sure enough, someone else took his place at the eatery entrance and I promptly ignored him too.  I guess Beer Belly must have used up all the goodwill in the neighborhood and traded locations with the new guy.  At least the new guy did manage to look needy in his worn out clothes.

Some months later, I am on the train going home and guess who comes into the car begging?  It was a strange moment when Beer Belly and I recognized each other.  He said “Hello” as he passed me and went on this begging way.  That was the last time I saw him.  I imagine that he is still some where in the city plying his trade.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

I'm Okay. You're Okay. Now Leave Me Alone and Go Away!


Image result for empty pockets

by Vol-E

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My city and neighborhood are both relatively small, and the neighborhood falls along the lower end of the economic spectrum. People live close together, and many destinations are easily accessible by bus or on foot.

It's not unusual, as I drive the streets around my home, to encounter pedestrians. They often stroll along right in the middle of the road. They'll look over their shoulders, see my car approaching, and then casually move along to the side so I can pass. Sidewalks are available, but rarely used, because they're narrow, and often obstructed by trees, trash, or shrubbery.

In any case, as I drive past, I'll wave. Mind you, I don't make eye contact when I wave, and don't check to see if the person waved back. I'm too busy watching the road for other cars, additional pedestrians, and runaway pets or children. I just lift the flat of my palm into the air (i.e. no individual fingers protruding...). Here's what the wave means:

  • Hi/Hello
  • I see you
  • You see me
  • Thanks for moving aside
  • I mean you no harm
  • I will not run you over
  • You live around here and so do I, so we're all in this [whatever "this" means] together.
Here's what my wave does NOT mean:
  • I am desperately looking for a new best friend, and you're it!
  • I can't wait to hear all about your troubles and misfortunes.
  • I have lots of extra money and cannot wait to give it all to you!

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Talk to the Wall

Image result for wailing wall
Now, if THIS wall could talk...Oy!

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
Hey bud, it’s me, The Wall.  Seems God heard you saying “If the walls could talk” and He says ‘Hey why not?”  Didn’t expect that did you?  Be careful what you wish for.  Now your wall can talk and talk about your dumb shit.

It’s true. I’ve seen some dumb shit, some ugly shit, and some pretty good shit and your pale white flat ass is in the ugly shit. Don’t worry, I don’t want to talk about your dumb shit.  I got a more personal beef with you.

I’m a sensitive Wall and I want to look good but what's that fucking color on me?  PUCE?  What the fuck color is that?  Women come here and they want to enter your man cave so that they can rejoice in their superiority and they see puce. 

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Christians are Stupid

Image result for popes bibles

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
I overheard a conversation while in the shopping mall.  The people were saying that the pope was not following the Bible and that he was misleading people and that he is a devil.  I presume that they were speaking of the Roman Catholic Pope.

Normally, I do not intrude on other people’s conversation but I could not help myself.  You could say that God made me do it.  I told them that for all the bad things they are saying about the pope, they can rest assured that the pope is also saying bad things about them.  They were shocked.  No doubt they are now saying bad things about me too.  Rest assured that I too will be saying bad things about them.


Monday, October 5, 2015

Lucky Number 7621



by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
It is just amazing to me that when I open my spreadsheet at work, I see a string of continuous numbers, one after another, displayed on my screen and I can interpret the numbers to have meaning and significance. 

The number currently attracting my attention is 7,621, which represents the amount of money in one of the company’s bank accounts. 

 
Another amazing thing to me is that the same number, 7,621, also has meaning and significance to other people: 

  • The number of pennies in $76.21.
  • The number of employees in their company.
  • The number of people in a Chicago skyscraper
  • The number of leaves on a large tree in the park.
  • The number of cars in a Las Vegas casino parking lot.
  • The number of times you pick the losing lottery ticket in your lifetime.
  • The number of times guys think amorous thoughts of women in a week.
  • The number of people who will read this post and laugh.
 

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Killer Instinct

                    

by Ben Franklin Schumpeter VIII
~
James heard the gunshots.  He and his colleagues were in the conference room enjoying coffee and cake at one of the monthly Afternoon Coffee Break Socials.  It was the idea of the Director that this team would get together at least once a month to chat with colleagues who rarely saw each other.  A good way to ease some of the frictions that came from not knowing how the other colleagues contributed to the project.

"Everyone quiet!" James said as loudly as he dared.  Now everyone heard the gunshots.  A voice squeaked, "My God!  Is that gunshots?  Someone is shooting out there.  We have to save ourselves."

"Quickly turn off the lights and lock the door" James said to the person nearest to the door.  "Someone call 911.  Everyone against the wall and down on the ground," as he pointed to the wall adjacent to the door.  James wanted everyone there just in case the gunman -- gunmen? for he did not know how many there were -- opened the door.  The angle from the door to the wall would make it difficult for the gunman to get a good shot at anyone.

James listened and he heard more shots.  He turned to Lillian his partner on this project and said, "The shooter out there is going to kill everybody.  We have to stop him."

Monday, September 7, 2015

Rewriting another chapter of childhood

                   

by Vol-E

"That's Grumman Airport," my dad used to say. "Late at night, I can hear them testing engines over there."

Okay, Grumman was never an "airport." But it certainly was big enough to be one. Grumman was an aerospace equipment manufacturer that was in business in central Long Island from 1930 to 1994, when it sold to Northrop and closed up that particular shop.Their heyday was during the Cold War. Their products were so durable and reliable, many people just referred to them as an "iron factory."

Inevitably, a large-scale manufacturer in the late 20th century was going to use chemicals, and before the 1970s, no one gave a thought to what those chemicals were, where they could go, and what they could do when they got there. We started learning about environmental pollution when we were in middle school, and part of the uneasy feeling it gave us could be articulated as "Man, that's awful! ...But what exactly are we supposed to do about it?"

Friday, September 4, 2015

What's Up With Those Rocks?

                       

By Vol-E

A close friend of mine is out of work on disability because she can't keep her heart from racing. She takes a variety of medications, all related to blood pressure, heart palpitations, and fainting. Her BP isn't terribly high; in fact, it tends to dip at inconvenient times. But all the while, she doesn't sleep well, and has to balance the need for anti-anxiety medications with the others she takes. Any time we talk, she can recite an extensive list of dramas, big and small, that dominate her life. They include pets (large and small), job, family losses, broken friendships, financial stuff, even the stresses that sometimes come with blogging and participating in social media --  things that are supposed to relax us.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Scary is the new Black

               
by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
I saw a poll that claimed America thinks that race relations have gotten worse.  Now when they say America, they mean White Americans.

White Americans think race relations have gotten worse because of cell phone cameras showing videos of racism in action.  Most disturbing of all are the videos on YouTube of the police waving their guns at black teen girls and of the police shooting black men.  The white people who have little but the most cursory interactions with black people, say no more than with a salesperson in a department store, can see with their own eyes what black people are going through.  The white people realize, “OMG, those black people are right.  This is bad.  I wouldn’t want that to happen to me.”