Archive for July 10th, 2011

July 10, 2011


Knew a woman who became pregnant four times while she was on the pill. She once remarked that if she ever saw another hard on she would smack it with a hammer. She was a nice lady, very attractive and had four beautiful kids whom she adored. But I guess there’s a limit to everything.


The Future.


I was once a fisherman. Not any more. I finally decided that the thrill of catching a fish wasn’t worth the hassle of trying.

I recall opening days of fishing season when the Fish and Game Commission released millions of trout into the rivers of the state. Sounds like an easy catch; until you realized that the banks of the river – both sides – were packed elbow to elbow with fisherman as far as the eye could see. Kinda detracts from the peace and quiet and solitude that’s supposed to accompany fishing in a favorite spot.

When I finally got to that favorite place in the sparkling waters of Pennsylvania’s Lehigh River all the fish were caught and gone. It happened so quickly the trout didn’t even have a chance to spawn.


I am convinced flies can identify a flyswatter and know its mean purpose. We have all been annoyed by a fly. But when we have reached the limit of our endurance and rise to retrieve the executioner’s deadly instrument, the fly vanishes. At this point I become the great white hunter. At least as far as the fly is concerned. Occasionally the hunt is successful and I bag my quarry. But mostly not. So I keep the swatter in hand and for the most part the fly stays away.

Then I begin to wonder. How annoyed is the fly. All he wants to do is land on some soft warm skin and catch a breather. Then a monster of unimaginable proportions reaches for a death dealing device and begins swatting with totally uncalled for fury.

I’ve acquired a grudging respect for the little insect.  If the fly weren’t so fast he be executed in an instant. But he keeps getting away.  Perhaps he also knows that from this executioner there is no reprieve, no benefit of trial.  Death comes swiftly. Not even prisoners at Guantanamo are treated that harshly.

Then I began thinking.  Suppose the roles were reversed and the fly became the executioner.  I guess we should all be grateful there are no such things as human swatters for flies. You know what they say about payback.  Humanity could become extinct in just one summer.


At some point in the future there’s no more future.


I once saw a bumper sticker that read “Bumper Sticker”. I guess we’ve all seen that bumper sticker at one time or another. But have you ever seen a book of free verse with a price sticker? I have.


You’ve heard people say time and again “children are our future”. Kind of self evident really. Even the Neanderthals knew that. Or we might not be here. And they didn’t have to write five hundred page tomes to convince themselves.


To lower the deficit economists are devising new ways to calculate inflation. So I’ve come up with my own method of deficit reduction. Instead of using the Consumer Price Index to figure COLAs for Social Security recipients I would use the Fauna-Flora Inflation Index. It works like this. If you can’t afford to buy steak and buy chopped meat instead, since chopped meat costs less than steak, the rate of inflation declines. And if you can’t afford chopped meat and eat Bowwow Vittles in its place, inflation decreases even more. Can’t afford lettuce. Go out to the front lawn and cut some dandelion leaves. That results in zero inflation. And you realize an additional benefit: you don’t have to cut the damn lawn as often. Saves on gasoline purchases too.


I was never a hunter. I just never saw any benefit or fun in getting up early in the morning and sitting in a cold, damp forest and hoping some animal would pass across my gun sight. I also realized that of all the hundreds of thousands of hunters who trekked into the woodlands of the nation to feed their hungry families only a tiny handful ever returned with a kill.

Fortunately for those who came back empty handed, a wife was waiting patiently at home, fire in the hearth, meatloaf dinner on the table. And if it weren’t for those long-suffering, forbearing women, half the damn hunters of the world would surely starve to death.

File:Skiing picture.jpg


I was never a hunter. But I was a downhill skier. I saw the fun in waking at 6 AM on winter weekends and venturing out into the morning cold – temperatures as low as 28 degrees – below zero. Then confining my feet into walk impeding boots and locking myself into steel bindings. For some inexplicable reason there is a thrill in charging down a snow covered mountain at breakneck speed on two flat strips of plastic-metal composite. I did this at times when I was in pain, suffering from assorted aches, sprains, bumps, bruises and cuts. God that was fun.


My wife and I were married by a Justice of the Peace. Shortly before the ceremony the judge approached and said: “You know this comes with a guarantee, right”. I said: “You mean I can get my money back.” He said: “That’s right. But it’s only good for thirty days”


1.  Photo by Ernst F.

2.  Photo by Tilmandralle.