Ignore This Post

Trump lowered the bar for the Presidency. Kathy Griffin lowered the bar for comedy. I’m going to the bar to come up with a better analogy.

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A new brand of popcorn (I created) if you are sitting around waiting for the president-for-now to blow the place up: Orb-ille Redenbacher Popcorn.

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Tenacity is one of those things which I’ve found people to woefully misjudge.

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Forget Notre Dame ‘insulting’ Pence. Today’s footage of Trump expanding his library of ignorant speeches was priceless. Many of the leaders of the free world were openly mocking him, snickering, and otherwise demonstrating how important his opinion is to…anyone.

Toward the end of the video, an older white-haired man walked briskly along the background, adjacent to the wall. I imagined that it was Bernie Sanders, impatiently pacing back and forth, vainly trying to control his impulse to blast an air horn toward DJ Trump. I added an arrow so you can spot him.

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In a first for politics, the newest model Hoover vacuum cleaner was appointed to be the next Attorney General, after it was determined that it sucks less than current appointee Jeff Sessions.

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When I performed my recital at Walton Arts Center, the audience gave its first ever Standing Negation.

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In the future, vehicles which can fly will be great: if you own a dog and take it with you in the car, you will have a ‘flying car pet,’ just like Aladdin.

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My arrest was a big misunderstanding. I advertised on Craigslist as a ‘Ford Escort Service,’ and only because that’s the car I’m gonna drive for Über. I had 11 middle-aged guys in the backseat before I exited the driveway.

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Often slowly; eventually, though, people always talk because that’s what we do. If you are counting on secrecy to protect your accumulated reputation, you’re gonna have a bad time.

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We age the most not in the lines of our face but in the depths of our hearts. – x

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I’m not saying he’s not a nice person, but I know for a fact that he goes to the proctologist daily: not for an appointment, but so that he can be around other assholes.

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A quick, snarky note from a non-sports fan…
3 a.m. on a Monday morning. Two flats, damage to the driver side, bumper, taillight out, the car was running, and right turn signal was flashing. When they woke him up, his speech was slurred and he didn’t know where he was at.

At first, police thought he was Sean Spicer.

If that had been me, Johnson Police would have used my small intestine to tow me to the jail and then charged me with at least 5 misdemeanors.

Tiger didn’t hurt anyone, so they shouldn’t kick him too hard. On the other hand, he got into a car he obviously wasn’t able to drive safely and hit something. Unfortunately, he wasn’t driving anywhere near Congress.

I vote that we let him off with a warning and sentence him to WATCH five hundred hours of golf. He’ll be begging for mercy at that point.

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PS: If you’ve never watched golf, it is exactly as bad as LISTENING to people talk about baseball, the earwax of sports.

Lion (Saroo)

Sunny Pawar stars in LION
Photo: Mark Rogers

Recommendation…
Although all my friends are of considerable taste and have undoubtedly already seen the movie “Lion,” I can only tell you that it will take a hammer to your heart if you watch this movie. It’s set in both India and Australia; India steals the show.

Because it’s based on a true story, it will dawn on you as you watch that the little boy in the movie’s beginning experienced the things as portrayed. All of us imagine that we have a good idea of what constitutes tenacity and heartache but Saroo teaches us that whatever image floats in our mind’s eye is woefully short of reality.

There are a couple of moments in the movie where the sheer size of the world zooms with dizzying speed. Each change in orientation reminds us of that billions of stories unfold here each day. Among them are stories so exotic that we can’t help but feel loss at not knowing these people.

The backstory to this movie being made is another story to itself. How Nicole Kidman and Dev Patel came to it is yet another surprise. Nicole got the chance to play a mother with two adopted children, exactly as is the case in real life. The young boy who portrays Saroo as a small child is about the most endearing kid you’d care to meet. As remarkable as the movie is, so many things swirling around it make it even more spectacular.

Because the story is true, there is a moment near the end of the film where your heart collapses in on itself. Even if I tell you the surprise, it won’t prepare you for the tragic loss. It will, however, make you appreciate the moment of triumph, decades in the making, as people reconnect.

You will be jealous of those impossible moments, the ones these people waited so long to share.

It’s “just” a movie, you might say. Using that logic, though, means that our lives are “just” moments in passing. There are a finite number of possibilities for our lives. Sometimes we can share a life like the one in “Lion” and rejoice in the loss and in the triumph. This movie is not your typical movie, based on an atypical life.

I would hope that anyone who hasn’t seen it will pause their lives for a bit and give it a try. I don’t normally recommend movies because of the wide spectrum of opinions we all have. “Lion” is a movie that will connect everyone.

Mike Pence & Notre Dame – Thoughts

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Warning: Political and/or Social Commentary

Isn’t it strange that people howl for empathy for the Vice President, a wealthy man with access to the world and everything in it? Even as he continues to misuse conviction to preach to all that some are not his equals, he has one of the world’s biggest pulpits from which he can pontificate to people. We owe him no tears. His vocation is one he campaigned for. He is not immune to rebuke. In fact, rebuke is as much a part of public life as adulation is. We are paying him to fulfill his duties and he works for all of us, not just those which conform to his brand of fear and distrust masquerading as politics. Perhaps if Pence spent more time representing the totality of this inclusive country and less time pandering to those who agree with his ideology, he might have more ears tuned toward compassion when he’s talking.

Whether it’s climate change, immigration, LGBTQ issues, evolution, or any of the other issues which he has planted his feet firmly in the past over, Pence is not where this country is headed, especially for the younger generation. It is the natural progression of things for those threatened by new or better ideas to angrily point accusatory fingers at those who want us all to be standing on a level playing field.

Students at Notre Dame opted to use their right to peacefully protest against this man’s policies and therefore this is not an indictment on the mindset of young people: it’s a refutation of the man’s ideas. Whether they protest at school or in public, they are adults, given the ability to reason and to demonstrate against things which violate their beliefs. They didn’t attack Pence as he has so often attacked the weaker and unvoiced masses. They didn’t take away any of his rights, limit his healthcare, reduce his wages, interfere in his appearance at the podium, or in any way harm him; they merely objected to his ideology and expressed their displeasure with their feet. This is exactly how things are supposed to work. Surely no one is to suggest that an adult must feel compelled to be complicit and present in the display and conspiracy of ideas woven by such a man as Pence.

To say that students have blemished the school, themselves or this country by exercising their right to object is a greater misstep than 1,000 such peaceful demonstrations. Regardless of how their tuition was paid, these adults protested in a manner befitting our country, at a university which itself is in the education business. Those students earned the right to their degree and they reiterated their right to protest. It’s interesting for politicians to deride students and universities for protest. Perhaps feeling rejected will provide some glimmer of recognition in their hearts as to how deeply inhumane many of their policies and beliefs come across.

The idea that people shouldn’t protest simply because it makes another segment uncomfortable is precisely why the protest is necessary. Just because you are privileged or wealthy enough to turn your head away and to expend no effort is in no way an indicator of what motivates much of the rest of the country. If they choose to peacefully protest, you can shake your head in disagreement with the content of the protest but never against the idea of protesting itself.

It is only through resistance have any of our major social changes flourished. Change requires stress to whatever prevailing ideas and traditions live in the moment. If you are sitting on the side entrenched in the past, you are going to experience turmoil as the world changes without you.

Notre Dame is a cross-section of the brightest young adults in our country. We indeed should start worrying only when they STOP resisting things which no longer represent our country.

Lastly, someone should explain to Pence and people like him that the 1st amendment right of free expression pertains to the relationship between government and individual citizens. Thus, it is Pence’s job to ensure that he understands that his role as VP requires him to welcome debate and dissent even when it’s directed to or at him specifically. Angrily rebuking those who choose to exercise their right not only demonstrates a dangerous demagoguery but also an ignorance of one of the most fundamental means of letting our government know they are going astray.

PS: Protest at a school or university carries the same validity as does protest exercised anywhere else. You sound ignorant when you draw a distinction.

Fart Synchronicity

 

I’m about to give you a glimpse into the inner sanctum of my life. It will irrevocably change the way you look at me, perhaps with more or perhaps less admiration. If you are allergic to humor or gastrointestinal references, you should go back to watching the news, where the worst you will see might be a recap of the horrors of the day. Please stop reading now. Continuing to read is a legal agreement that you, like me, have absolutely no taste whatsoever.

Dawn was at one of the computers, watching SNL skits from last night’s episode. I was sitting at my desk behind her, busily making snarky notes for my mammoth list of nonsense.

After a few minutes, Dawn started watching the RKO movie set sketch with The Rock and Vanessa Bayer. I swiveled around in my office chair to see what mayhem was about to ensue. (PS – the sketch with Rock visiting the doctor for a prescription was the funniest, in my opinion.)

Without warning, I felt a rumble in my stomach and passed gas – and not the light gentlemanly type typical of what you’d expect from such a lightweight such as me, either. No, this was a reminder that I should stop eating pizza, horseradish sauce and lemon pepper, especially at the same time – and that I should seek immediate relief from a qualified medical professional.

Coincidentally, the exact moment my colon exhaled, Vanessa Bayer’s character also passed a loud blast of gas in the sketch. I didn’t hear it, though, given the volume of my own contribution. Dawn turned to look at me, bemused and aghast. My contribution had kept her from hearing what had happened, too.

Dawn backed up the video to re-watch the portion I interrupted.

We both shared a great laugh, as the odds of my flatulence coinciding perfectly with that of the character on the sketch had to be at least a million to one.

(In fact, the premise of the entire SNL skit was one of Bayer’s character being flatulent in creative ways as The Rock struggled not to laugh.)

As Shakespeare once quipped, “Each of us, even reluctantly, must play our own f̶a̶r̶t̶ part in this tragic comedy of life.”

Peace to each of you still reading this, my friends. May your days be filled with spring breezes of the kind we all look forward to.

Why Not?

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Two bits of news:
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1) Everyone should watch “The Handmaid’s Tale.” It started filming before the presidential election – and the author wrote the book decades ago, using Reagan and many of the undercurrents of theocratic authoritarianism as the basis for a dystopian future. (Which are once again washing over us like a case of gastric flatulence.)
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2) I am hoping to be in Season 2. Here’s how I would look in the garb of the handmaidens. I think my acting range is expressed artfully in this picture, don’t you?

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I ate too much raw data last night.

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These dual-message pictures are fun. I made a slew of them for “The Handmaid’s Tale” and thought they’d be interesting for other topics, too.

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They told me I had to practice writing more formally. Here I am, in my formal end-of-the-world garb and yet my writing hasn’t improved. PS: Wouldn’t it be awesome if Springdale graduates had to wear this to graduate?

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Another doublethought picture, below…

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Beware the smell of TicTacs, the harbinger of doom.

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Say what now?

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Rock ‘N Tom 2020.  Why not?

(For anyone not in the know, it’s a reference to The Rock jokingly announce his candidacy for president.)

A Totally Untrue But Probable Story

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A quick creative home and garden story to brighten your day…

Last week, my friend Marilyn drove all the way from Oregon to Springdale, Arkansas to attend a h̶o̶t̶b̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶c̶r̶a̶z̶i̶n̶e̶s̶s̶ work reunion for Springdale Hospital. (Oregon is allegedly a ‘state’ of the United States, although this information cannot be confirmed.)

Also, if it is so great there I can’t imagine why she’d leave, even for a vacation. 🙂

On the way back, a snowstorm stopped her cold in Wyoming. Marilyn became so enamored of the frigid temperatures and snow that she’s decided she doesn’t need a house or living room any longer – she’s going to take the idea of an outdoor space to a new level. Naysayers will warn that it’s dangerous to live outdoors or that it’s even more unsafe to reside in an ice-covered intersection. Marilyn didn’t get to her age without considerable risk to life and limb, which explains how she survived working with the crazy folks from the Springdale Hospital.

According to sources, it is possible that she will literally be stuck in Wyoming until August 2017. If you have dinner reservations with her, you should either cancel them or take a snowmobile to meet her there.

As you can see by the signs to both her left and right in this picture, her new space is conveniently located near parking lots, which will satisfy the exacting vehicular requirements of her husband, Larry.

Please wish her well in her new living space.

Isn’t It Funny?

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A poem I wrote to verify whether people read the content.

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Noted baseball historian Ralph Ettenmeyer notes that Mike Pence was a naturally-gifted player. His well-earned nickname: Dingbat

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Schrödinger’s Rain: It’s raining cats OR dogs.

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Misheard News of the Day: Tyson announced its first antibiotic-free chicken today. In other news, antibiotics will now be chicken-free.

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“Evidently, I’m a little too fabulous. I got a ticket for (g)littering on the side of the road.” – X

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Joke/ Satire?    After my last Tyson chicken joke, Corporate wrote me, asking me to enumerate my frustrations with the company. #1: It’s not ethical that the food taste test division stole the smell of my old work boots as the inspiration for the flavor of their frozen chicken breasts. (In truth, this story is almost true but I’ll leave it to you to decide which part is technically an exaggeration.)

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If people demand an answer when you don’t have one, here’s the best reply: “I don’t know, would you like me to go fill up at the Guess Station?” It works great when spoken, especially if screamed as a response or after ingesting hallucinogens.

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I was asked to write a clever quip about human error. This isn’t supposed to be taken literally or as an endorsement of stupidity.

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If I were a teacher, I would hate trying to explain “Do the right thing” in this world dominated by Trump and people like him.

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For those who love those “Is your refrigerator running?” jokes, here’s a gift:
Call Tyson Corporate and ask…
“Do you have frozen chicken breasts?”

When you call, ask for Tina – she loves a good joke.

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After my last Tyson chicken joke, Corporate wrote me, asking me to enumerate my frustrations with the company. #1: It’s not ethical that the food taste test division stole the smell of my old work boots as the inspiration for the flavor of their frozen chicken breasts. (In truth, this story is almost true but I’ll leave it to you to decide which part is technically an exaggeration.)

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On health care: “Single Payer doesn’t have a Single Prayer.”

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Keeping nude photos is a bad idea. But if you do, it seems like you should store them on a ‘flash’ drive.

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The restaurant review said that the place was very intimate. I’d say so. The waiter put his tongue in my ear while listing all the house specials.

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Word of the Day: Doppelgänger – noun; a look-alike or counterpart to another person.

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We decided not to burn books – we are burning Facebooks instead because we’ve had enough of people sharing what they find meaningful with other people.

 

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Weird how people proudly shout, “Death from above.” No kidding. Where else is it going to come from? Are we filming the movie “Tremors?”

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Have you seen the new walking paths designed for poets? They are haiku-ing trails.

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Life is long, but really long if you’ve got gas in public.

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I am not saying he is a bad cook- but the only thing he could make is an asserole.

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The accounting team from Lewis and Smith Inc. are suing. They bought a package from the tour company to go witness the eclipse but when they arrived it turned out to be a subtotal eclipse instead.

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Warning: double pun/ foreign phrase combination:

At work there is a beautiful little spillway cavern, with a bubbling spring exiting the opening. When there is a breeze along the lower level it is a divine place.

Lately though, a security guard has been placing himself nearby and prohibiting entry to non-employees and anyone whose face he dislikes.

As I take break nearby sometimes, I tend to hear his admonitions to some of the interlopers.

Today he was getting verbally chastised by an older white guy. “Give me one good reason I’m not allowed over here!” Mr. White Guy shouted at the surprised guard.

I stood up so that the guard could see me. I held up a hand to indicate that I’d like to answer for him. The guard nodded his assent.

“Sir,” I said, loudly.

“The reason you’re not allowed here is because you are a ‘persona non grotto.’ ”

And I laughed.

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Did you know that our current Attorney General’s real name is Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III? He answers to the name “Jeff,” given that his preferred name of “Cracker” was taken. He’s so white that he doesn’t need to put on a hood for the firelit meetings.

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Newport Potatoes, Aziz Ansari & ‘Master of None’

 

 
This post will be of interest to those who cook or watch TV, and probably even those weirdos who cook while watching – and perhaps even Peeping Toms who watch those who do either or both. I think I’ve covered the potential fan base of this post adequately, except to remind you to stop cooking in the nude.

Comedian Aziz Ansari’s second season of “Master of None” is on Netflix. It’s one of the most genuinely comedic shows I’ve watched in a long time. It also connects on a deeper level, pinging a depth of emotion and shared experiences that’s difficult for most shows to approach. The nuances are clouded inside a veneer of comedy but I find this to be the case with most shows that I appreciate.

While watching the latest season, I laughed like a diseased jackal when I heard that they too had a recipe for “Newport Potatoes,” a recipe that my mom perfected through countless meals in my youth.

Here’s the recipe for Newport Potatoes: use the regular mashed potatoes recipe, except ensure that a careless and/or drinking chain smoker is in the room and involved in making the potatoes. They’re called “Newport Potatoes” due to the popular Newport cigarettes. My mom tended to make “Winston Potatoes,” though.

(Note: At one point, Newport cigarettes accounted for almost 1/2 of all African-American cigarette sales. I loathe including true facts in my posts, but this one was interesting enough to warrant a detour from my usual tomfoolery.)

So, as I often warn people, check your potatoes before eating, to ensure that it’s black pepper in the spuds instead of cigarette ash. (Not that cigarette ash tastes bad or causes gastric distress.)

Connections Made

The following is a post I wrote for the Springdale Hospital Alumni Group. While I never worked there, I’ve known hundreds of people who have. Last year, they got me started doing scans of hundreds of their collected pictures, spanning decades of work and friendship. They invite to the parties as if I’ve been a member the entire time. Most of these parties are held at Dr. Jerry Dorman’s house, with his wife Jackie doing most of the legwork. I’ve been very lucky to get know the Dormans over the last year. It certainly feels like these types of friendships are rarer, given that it’s a struggle to be at a job long enough to develop lasting connections.

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Now that the sound of banjos has subsided and Marilyn has visited us for her annual Tea Party, the slow mist of friendship settles peacefully back upon this town of Springdale. Unlike the hurried, insistent acquaintances we so often form in this new, modern world, today was the day when friends could pull up a chair, share a story, and know that no matter how anticipated the punchline, that there would be friendly ears to appreciate the memories as they mutually looked back upon what they shared.

As an outsider, it was comforting to see old friends bonded by work rejoined in laughter and stories. It’s an increasingly rare thing to experience connections at work, and a rarer wild bird still to find them still breathing years and decades later. I’m truly envious of the stories of Springdale Hospital and have gained much more from this group than I could ever pay back in, even if I were to scan ten thousand pictures for everyone involved.

It’s true that our memory is traitorous to the truth as we age and that the daily frustrations of work and life fade with time, allowing us to better appreciate the timelessness of friendships. I can’t escape the feeling that perhaps many of these folks, however, were able to smile more often, laugh more deeply, and take away a little more from their days at the hospital than the rest of the mortals who weren’t lucky enough to experience the halcyon days of Springdale Hospital.

The Dormans were gracious hosts for opening their beautiful home to everyone, but also for joining along with the crescendo of laughter that ascended to the sky on this impeccable May afternoon. Contrary to popular belief, Dr. Jerry didn’t get out his banjo and sing this year, nor did Marilyn demonstrate to the rest of us the best way to flamenco dance. (Although promises were made.)

For those who attended, you’ll have to assure those who didn’t that they indeed were the topic of much merriment and speculation in their absence. This group left an echo in time today. These echoes are what makes living such a gift.