Gregory’s Bible Stories: Moses’s Trick Chiseling Elbow

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about how Moses helped the Lord set up and take down His holy tent.

Let’s listen in as Gregory tells us how it all happened.

gregory Moses’s Trick Chiseling Elbow

One day while the Lord was on a camping trip relaxing in His Tent at Camp Holy Land, He decided to dictate to Moses exactly how he wanted His Sacred Stuff moved when it was time to break camp.  Moses chiseled down His instructions.

The Lord:  Moses, when it’s time to go I want Aaron, your brother, and his two sons to come inside My Tent and take down the curtain in front of the covenant box and cover the covenant box with it.

Moses:   . . . and cover box with it . . . got it.

The Lord:  And cover the covenant box with it . . . be sure to specify covenant.

Moses:  Yeah but I thought I could just shorten “covenant box” to “box” as my trick chiseling elbow is acting up again.

The Lord:  Do as I say, young man,  or I’ll give your trick chiseling elbow something to act up about, and I’m not just whistling Dixie!

Moses:   . . . not just whistling Dixie . . . got it.

The Lord:  No!  Don’t write that down you idiot!

Moses:   . . . don’t write that down you idiot . . .got it.

The Lord:  Oy!

Moses:   . . . Oy . . . got it.

The Lord:  After that, have Aaron and his sons put a blue cloth over the covenant box then put bread on top of  that and spread a red cloth over  that and then put a leather cover on top of that and insert the carrying poles. Did you get all that Moses?

Moses:  . . . hang on . . . did you get all that Moses . . . got it.

The Lord:  Hallelujah!

Moses:  Are there  three or four L’s in Hallelujah?  I’m guessing four?

Moses's trick chiseling elbow

“H. . .  A . . .  L . . . L . . . L . . .L? “

The Lord:   Then it’s just practically self explanatory from there on out. Have them put a blue cloth over the lamp stand and olive oil containers and spread a blue cloth over the gold alter and put a fine leather cover over that and then remove the greasy ashes over the alter and put a purple cloth over that and put all the fire pans, hooks, shovels and basins over that and then carry it all to the next location without touching any of the sacred objects or they will die, yadda yadda yadda.

Moses:   . . . yadda yadda yadda . . . got it.  Wait a minute Lord!  Did you just say they will die if they touch any of the sacred objects?

The Lord:  Correctomundo.

Moses:  Did I mention my brother, Aaron has a bad back?

The Lord:  Not to worry, I’m hiring the Starving Kohath Clan Movers to do all the heavy lifting but it is your responsibility, Moses, to make sure that they aren’t killed by coming near the most sacred objects. In fact, if they even see the priests preparing the sacred objects for moving they will die.

Moses:  . . . they will die . . . got it.  Can I go now?  I need to ice my trick chiseling elbow.

The Lord:  Yeah you can go in just a minute, but first do me a solid and take a census of Levite Clan, register all the men between the ages of thirty and fifty who were qualified to work in the Tent of the Lord’s presence and then after you do that,  you’ll need to chisel down who I want to carry what.

Moses: Can I at least have a break to eat my goat sandwich I brought from home?

The Lord:  Man does not live by bread alone.

Moses:  Yeah I know, Lord, hence the goat!

The Lord:  Don’t get smarty with me, young man!  Tell you what.  First, chisel down my instructions for disassembling My Tent. It’s pretty simple, it will only take about 14 hours to explain and then you can have a bathroom break.

14 hours later:

The Lord:  Okay Moses I think I’ve covered which part of my tent all 8,580 Levites will each be carrying from here to the next camping site.  Any questions?

Moses:  Yes. Can I ice my trick chiseling elbow now?  It hurts dreadfully.

The Lord:  Oh wait.  Speaking of dreadful,  I almost forgot. Before you go, Moses, I need you to expel everybody from Camp Holy Land who has a dreaded skin disease or a bodily discharge and also everyone who is unclean by contact with a corpse and then you can go home early.

Moses:    . . . contact with a corpse . . . got it.  And then can I ice my trick chiseling elbow?

The Lord:  Sure except . . .

Moses:  Except what?

The Lord:  I haven’t had a chance to create ice yet.  Sorry.

Moses:  Why I oughtta . . .

The Lord:  What was that, Moses?

Moses:  Nothing.

 And there you have it, Dear Readers what Gregory learned in Sunday School this morning. Please check back next week to find out what wonderful things Gregory will learn in Sunday School next week.

Until next time . . . I love you

Covenant Box table cloth

God's Big Feet

 

The Dark and Stormy April 15th Deadline

“It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents–except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.”

–Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

It’s April 15th, so go ahead and round-up all those remaining brain cells that have yet to be killed off and put them away in a safe place because you’re going to need only the dead ones for this next task.

That’s because April 15th is the deadline for the Bulwer Lytton Fiction Contest, a competition sponsored by San Jose State, where contestants vie for the dishonor of writing the worst beginning sentence to an imaginary novel inspired the purple prose of Edward George Bulwer-Lytton.

Now since it was still a couple of days before the first day of the rest of my life, I decided to enter the Bulwer Lytton Fiction contest and guess what? Turns out I’m a horrible writer! So horrible, in fact, that out of 10,000 entries, my very bad sentence won the grand prize for the very crummiest of  them all!

My triumphant mess went as follows:

Delores breezed along the surface of her life like a flat stone forever skipping along smooth water, rippling reality sporadically, but oblivious to it consistently, until she finally lost momentum, sank and due to and overdose of fluoride as a child which caused her to suffer from chronic apathy, doomed herself to lie forever on the floor of her life as useless and an appendix and as lonely as a 500-lb. barbel in a steroid free fitness center.

Now because I aspired to be a tad bit better than bad, I decided to sit down to my keyboard and make the following attempts to write at least one sentence that could possibly be considered “pretty good.”

Amanda’s obsession for making homemade bread for the entire neighborhood was beginning to take over her life, and as she sat at the kitchen table with her flour-covered face in her flour-covered hands, the warm sun shone steadily through the kitchen window and Amanda began to slowly rise up out of her chair — suddenly realizing that she needed to be kneaded.

and

Charlie dreamed that he was dreaming he was awake and had fallen asleep.

OK, truthfully, at this point, I was starting to get a bit nervous about being able to come up with a pretty good sentence. It seemed the harder I tried to write pretty good, the more elusive “pretty good” became. Frankly, serious doubts were beginning to pierce the ears of my soul. But still I forged onward:

Rayton, a fine Guppitoid from Repox VII couldn’t put his slimy little fingerling on why Jessica, an ichthyolgist’s dream, wouldn’t have him for her husband when he had made it abundantly clear that the only domestic duties she would have to perform would be to boost his ego and to bear him several million live young a year, which he was even willing to help her eat.

and

As soon as Mary got to her walk-up, she was held up, tied up, and told to shut up, but luckily the culprits were picked up, locked up and Mary was helped up and then she threw up.

Ah! Finally I was warmed up. But one thing was certain. If I was ever going to write that pretty good sentence, I needed to relax.

I began taking deep breaths, one after another until the last thing I remember was falling off my chair and hitting the floor like –what else — a 500-lb. barbel in a steroid-free fitness center.

Which brings me to the moral of this story:

She who enters the Bulwer Lytton can take a lick in’ and keep on tickin.

Hey now! That’s a pretty good sentence if I do say so myself. But my quest for a pretty good sentence does not end here. I’m going to keep at it until I come up with the perfect pretty good sentence. It may take awhile but, after all, I do have until the last day of the rest of my life, or April 15th — which ever comes first.

Until next time . . . I love you

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grown-up Children

Miss Penelope’s Distraction

When Miss Penelope walked into her third-grade class, a hush, like rain, came over her students.  It might have been because Miss Penelope was tall and beautiful with naturally-curly, flaming-red hair.  Or it might have been because Miss Penelope was carrying her teacup poodle, Nippers, in her tea-cup. Then again, it might have been because Miss Penelope had three legs.

Benjamin Bananason’s hand shot up before Miss Penelope was even done writing MISS PENELOPE on the blackboard.

“Yes Benjamin.”  Miss Penelope said.

“Is there going to be homework this year?  What time’s lunch? And may I please use the bathroom?”

Miss Penelope crossed two of her legs and leaned on the other while she answered Benjamin’s last question affirmatively and pondered the other two questions.

While she was thinking, Rebecca Ribeye raised her hand.

“Yes Rebecca?”

“My aunt, Lavern, has naturally-curly, flaming-red hair just like yours, Miss Penelope.  She had to go to prison though.  What’s your doggie’s name?”

“Nippers” Miss Penelope answered, and then raised the tea-cup containing Nippers to her lips as though she would take a sip — but gave Nippers a kiss instead.

The children laughed until it was time for recess.

That’s when Principal Connie Vickers marched in.

“Well?  How did they respond?” Connie Vickers demanded.  “I would imagine the children were not able to talk about anything else all morning but your—“

“My teacup poodle, Nippers?”

“No, not Nippers!  Your . . . your . . . .” Connie squirmed and tried not to look at any of Miss Penelope’s legs.

“Oh you mean my distraction.” Miss Penelope said helpfully.  “My naturally-curly, flaming-red hair. “

“No!  Not that distraction!  I’m talking about your extra leg Miss Penelope.  I’m talking about the fact that you have THREE legs, Miss Penelope!”

In the silence that followed, Principal Connie Vickers reached her finger over to pet Nippers whose razor- sharp, tiny teeth went into the fleshy part of Connie Vickers finger like a knife through warm butter.

horrrible art Linda Vernon Humor

Until next time . . . I love you

Slightly Creepy Seventies: Sewing for Teens

Welcome Dear Readers to the world of the Slightly Creepy Seventies where we  trip down memory lane by revisiting the pages of old magazines from the inexplicable decade of the 70’s.  

Today we will be flipping through the pages of “let yourself sew – a complete sewing book for teens” 

Let yourself Sew with Simplicity

Published during the great capitalized letter shortage of 1975.

 

Let’s open to the first page. Oh look!  It’s some actual Slightly Creepy Seventies Teens!

Seventies teens

As you can see, all teenage girls in the Slightly Creepy Seventies look like they are between the ages of 35 and 40.  There are three theories for this:  1) The ugliness of the seventies was more aging to the skin than the rays of  the Slightly Creepy Seventies Sun  2) wearing stupid outfits you sewed yourself altered the chemical structure of  your DNA (not in a good way) or 3) all teenage girls in the Slightly Creepy Seventies actually were between the ages of 35 and 40.

*Note the little boy in the striped, home-sewn whatevers is keeping a low profile.  It seems one of the teenagers between 35 and 40 has started a family unbeknownst to mom.  Sh . . .I won’t tell if you won’t.

Of course the Master Plan of sewing for your teenage self in the Slightly Creepy was to: “Create Your Never-Can-Be-Duplicated Specialness!” 

70's bathrobe coat img150

Well okay then!  And what better way to do that than to sew yourself a bathrobe and wear it out in public.  Oh and don’t forget that really good friend with the cheerfully sympathetic expression to walk along beside you with her hand on your back like she’s guiding you as you schlep from place to place.

That way people who don’t understand your never-can-be-duplicated specialness, will just have to assume you’ve recently gone blind and haven’t figured out a workable system, as yet, for getting dressed in the dark. Either way it’s a slightly creepy seventies win/win!

The Slightly Creepy Seventies Heartbreak of Crochet Addiction

crochet addict

In a decade where everybody started their day out by brushing their teeth with cocaine,  gargling with LSD and using a Mescaline moisturizer, what most people don’t realize is that it was actually crochet addiction that was responsible for ruining more 1970’s wardrobes than cocaine, LSD and Mescaline combined!

For Jessica, it all began with a simple crocheted chain stitch a couple of times a week.  To unwind from a hard day of wandering around town in her corduroy bathrobe.  No harm done really. Until she started lying to granny about all the “missing” yarn.  Before you know it, she was parading up and down the streets in  purple leotards and blue anklets wearing her crochet addiction on her sleeve like a an ugly crocheted vest and hot pants — begging strangers for money and lying that she was only going to use it to buy some Mescaline Moisturizer when in reality she was going to use it to buy a basket full of kittens and yarn —then shoo away the kittens. It didn’t end well for Jessica. Today she lives in a van down by the river she crocheted herself. (Both the van and the river.)

 It’s An Applique, Okay?

Seventies teen

Sure, this slightly creepy seventies teen looks 45 but that’s only by today’s standards.  Back in the Slightly Creepy Seventies she didn’t look a day over 13!  Why? Because she’s wearing a shirt with an arrow appliqued on it that’s why!  An arrow that proclaimed to the world, “Yes!  I have an arrow on my shirt, so?  You got a problem with that?  Get over it Mom!  Get over it Dad! Get over it establishment!” Right after this she went down and signed up for a fake senior discount card!  In your face boss man.   You go teenage girl who looks 45!

Uh Oh . . . Crochet Addiction Rears it’s Ugly Head Again!

Slightly Creepy Seventies Teens

Uh Oh . . . It looks like this Slightly Creepy Seventies slumber party where everyone sewed themselves a nightgown has taken a turn for the worse. Obviously Jessica and Jessica are suffering mightily from crochet addiction withdrawals and are engaged in a fight to the death for the last ball of granny’s yarn.

It’s an ugly reality that was often swept under even uglier crocheted rugs all over Slightly Creepy Seventies America.  But then would we expect any less from the Slightly Creepy Sevenites?

And there you have it, Dear Readers, this edition of the Slightly Creepy Seventies.   But remember, even though it is now 2015 — if someone invites you to try crocheting?  Better stay on the safe side and just say no!

Until next time . . . I love you

 

 

Sample Chapters from Linda’s Big Book of Cannibalism

Welcome Dear Readers!  I’m thinking about writing Linda’s Big Book of Cannibalism. Here are some of the sample chapters I’ve come up with so far:

Chapter 1)

The day the cannibals ate my left foot without so much as a “howdy”

 

Chapter 2)

The day I would have been eaten by cannibals but luckily they were full

 

Chapter 3)

“You gonna eat the rest of that elbow?”  he asked.

 

Chapter 4)

Hello?!?  Next time ask before you eat the last explorer!

 

Chapter 5)

The day the cannibals ate every other finger on my right hand and still had room for Jello!

 

Chapter 6)

Cannibal Grammar:  I ate all the flesh today.  I ate all the flush yesterday

 

Chapter 7)

Cannibal Confessions:  Just between you and me, David Rockefeller needed salt  . . . 

 

Chapter 8)

Cannibal Weight Loss:  I lost ten pounds on a low-Fred diet!

 

Chapter 9)

A glass of wine, a loaf of bread and you

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now, but stay tuned for more sample chapters from Linda’s Big Book of Cannibalism.

Until next time I love you (especially with ketchup)

Gregory’s Bible Stories: Samson

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about how Samson entertained the Philistines.

Let’s listen in as Gregory tells us how it all happened.

gregory Samson, The Headliner

One fine shiny biblical morn, a group of Philistine kings along with 3,000 other Philistine party-goers met to celebrate and offer a sacrifice to their God Dagon– while Samson, the strongest man who ever lived was locked up in basement with a buzz cut and his eyes poked out.  The bible says they all sang this song:

“Our god has given us victory over our enemy Samson.” Nobody knows for sure what the tune was — but judging from the lyrics, it probably wasn’t very catchy.

After they were done singing, the energy in the room went way down:

King A to King B:  This party’s getting kind of dull, don’t you think?

King B to King A: I know, I even tried getting up a rousing chorus of “Our god has given us victory over our enemy who devastated our land and killed so many of us”

King C:  And?

King B to King C:  Nothin’.

King D:  I wonder what we could do to liven it up?

King E to King D:  Well, if we had some Christians we could feed them to some lions if we had some lions.

King A to no king in particular:  Oh I know! Let’s let Samson out of prison to entertain us.

King #228:  You mean, Samson, the strongest man who ever lived, who is at this very moment locked up in the basement with the recently shorn hair and the even more recently poked out eyes?

King B:  Excuse me King #228, but I think you wandered into the wrong group of kings.  Where did you come from?

King #228:  1 Kings 19?

King C:  Hahahahaha!  I knew it!  Well anyways, I’m going out for more fig wine. . . wait a minute, I can’t find my chariot reins!

King B: I took them.

King C:  Why?

King B to King C:  Because Kings don’t let Kings chariot drunk.

Later:

King A to King B:  I’m about ready to fall asleep.  You want I should go get Samson out of his cell?

King B to the only King left who was paying any attention at all (King #228):  No let’s send a dumb little boy to take Samson by the hand, and lead Samson, the strongest man who ever lived, out to us and have him  stand between those two pillars over there.

King C to King B:  You mean those two pillars over there that are purely decorative and are not structurally needed should they somehow be destroyed or do you mean the two load-bearing pillars that if something were to happen to them the entire palace would collapse and everyone would be killed including Kings A through #228?

King B:  The latter . .   No wait . . . the former?

While King B was looking up the definitions of former and latter, the dumb little boy led Samson to the two load-bearing pillars and Samson took hold of them and pushed with all his might.

The entire building fell down killing all 3,000 party-goers and every single one of the kings except for King #228 who quickly high-tailed it back to 1 Kings 19.

And there you have it, Dear Readers!  What Gregory learned in Sunday school today. Please check back next week at the same time to find out what Gregory comes up with.

Samson pushing down the pillars

 

 

 

 

Gregory’s Bible Stories: Jesus and the Foot Washing Incident

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about Jesus and forgiveness. 

Let’s listen in as Gregory tells us all about it.

gregoryJesus and the Foot Washing  Incident

One day Jesus was invited to have dinner at the house of Simon, the Pharisee. The Pharisees were a group of middle-class biblical businessmen who hung around the Chamber of Commerce every waking minute to make sure everyone followed all the rules correctly.

Jesus and Simon were just sitting down to dinner when a woman who leads a sinful life knocked at the door:

Simon:  Who is it?

Woman Who Leads a Sinful Life:  It’s me.  The woman who leads a sinful life.

Simon:  Can you narrow it down a little?

WWLASL:  I’m the woman who leads a sinful life and carries around an alabaster jar of perfume wherever I go?

Simon:  Hm. . . wait a minute . . . you’re not the woman who leads a sinful life who carries around an alabaster jar of perfume wherever she goes and has hundreds cats are you?

WWLASL:  No that’s my sister.  She’s always borrowing my alabaster jar of perfume without asking.  If you’ve ever noticed, it’s got scratches all over it.  Anyway, I heard Jesus was eating dinner with you, and I was wondering if it would be okay if I came in and stood behind him and cried.

Simon:  Is that okay with you Jesus?

Jesus:  Sure.

Simon the Pharisee opened the door and let the Woman Who Leads a Sinful Life inside and she went over to Jesus and stood behind him — by his feet, crying, and wetting his feet with her tears. (Some biblical scholars believe Jesus’s Feet were double-jointed causing them to be in the correct position for getting wet if they were being watered by the tears of a woman who was standing behind him. Still other biblical scholars believe, however, that they work too hard and went home early.)

Simon:  Excuse me?  Hey you!  Woman Who Leads a Sinful Life!  Your tears are getting Jesus’s Feet wet.

WWLASL:  Oh I’m so sorry!  Gosh this is embarrassing.  Do you have a towel–well never mind I’ll just use my beautiful, long  hair.

The Woman Who Leads a Sinful Life then kissed Jesus’s Feet, and poured all the perfume from her alabaster jar onto the Jesus’s Feet.  Simon was thinking that if Jesus really was a prophet, he would know she was the Woman Who Leads A Sinful Life.  But if Jesus knew that, he wasn’t letting on.  Instead Jesus completely changed the subject:

Jesus:  There were two men who owed money to a moneylender.  One owed him five hundred silver coins and the other one fifty.

Simon:  Oy!  This isn’t going to be another arithmetic story problem is it?

Jesus:  No don’t worry.  It’s a parable.  Anyway, the moneylender canceled the debts. Which man would love him more?

Simon:  Uh . . . the one who was forgiven more?

WWLASL:  Is that your final answer?

Simon:  You stay out of this.

Jesus: Do you see this woman?  I came into your home and you gave me no water for my feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You did not welcome me with a kiss but she has not stopped kissing my feet since I came. You provided no olive oil for my head but she has covered my feet with perfume.

Simon:  Am I correct in assuming, then, that my killer recipe for Simon The Pharisees  Tuna Noodle Casserole Delight didn’t make up for all that?

But if Jesus heard Simon’s question, there is no record of it in the bible.

And there you have it, Dear Readers.  Please check back next week at this same time to see what Gregory learns next in Sunday School.

Until next time . . . I love you

"What's this?" "What's what?" "I don't know, it  looks like tuna casserole."

“What’s this?”
“What’s what?”
“I don’t know, it looks kinda like tuna noodle casserole.”

 

Gregory’s Bible Stories: God and Gideon’s Questionnaire

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about how God whittled down Gideon’s army from 22,000 to 300.

Let’s listen in as Gregory fills us in on what must have happened.

gregory God and Gideon’s Questionnaire

When last we left our hero, Gideon, he and the Lord had been sorting through 22,000 potential warrior applicants to decide who would go to war against the Midianites.  The weeding-out process was accomplished by having the applicants answer the following questionnaire:

Circle the best answer to the following questions:

Gideon and five men of his men were fighting ten Midianites.  Two of his men beheaded six Midianites and three of his men stabbed four Midianites seven times. How many heads of dead Midianites did Gideon’s wife have to find room for on their trophy shelf. Round up to the nearest Midianite.

A) 12

B) 117

C) 1,283, 747

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

On any given day, I have been known to worship:

A) God

B) Baal

C) Golden idols

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

My favorite offering to burn on the altar is:

A) First born lamb

B) a quart of olive oil

C) S’mores

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

If nobody’s looking, I drink out of the river like a:

A) dog

B) kitty

C) giraffe

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

I like to use the following musical instrument to kill people in battle:

A) a trumpet

B) a flute

C) an oboe

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

When I go to battle with Gideon to defeat the Midianites I plan to carry:

A) An empty jar with a torch inside and a trumpet

B) One small goat and a bugle

C) A big stick

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

The nation of Israel is located on:

A) The northern most tip of the Red Sea

B) Mount Ararat

C) The coastal plains of Galilee

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

When I go to heaven, I hope to be taking with me:

A) An honorable soul that has followed God’s word

B) A mind that is worthy of the heaven

C) Noble intentions and a pure heart

D) Just the head of Regis Philbin

And there you have it Dear Readers.  Please stop by next week at this same time to find out what Gregory learned in Sunday School.

Until next time . . . I love you

Gideo and his trumpeters

Gregory’s Bible Stories: Gideon’s Dog Day Afternoon

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned more about the adventures of Gideon.

Let’s listen in shall we?

gregory Gideon’s Dog Day Afternoon

Last week, the Lord sent a supernatural, glowing, angel who was wearing a radiant robe that had the words “God Squad” illuminated across the front of it with a message from the Lord about how He wanted Gideon to rescue the Israelites. The Angel was also carrying a magical fire stick.

But Gideon wasn’t convinced that the angel was really a messenger from God because in those days angels were always popping up left and right and magical fire sticks and regular sticks were practically identical.

The Angel and Gideon

“Hi, yeah, I’m an angel of the Lord.”            “Sorry but I’m going to have to see some ID.”

 

The Wet-Wool/Dry-Wool Miracle

Gideon needed more proof that God wanted him to rescue the Israelites, so he asked God to perform the wildly-popular Wet-Wool/Dry-Wool miracle which was considered the G0-To miracle in those days for Generation 3000 BC Millennials.  The conversation might have gone something like this:

The Lord:  So, Gideon, did you get my message from the angel about how I want you to rescue the Israelites?

Gideon:  Yeah.

The Lord:  And?

Gideon: Well, Lord, I was hoping that instead of a message from an angel that  you’d perform the miracle where I leave some dry wool outside at night to see if it was still dry in the morning.

The Lord:  Aw come on, Gideon!  That’s such a lame miracle. If you really want a miracle, I could part the Red Sea.

Gideon:   Meh . . no offense but that’s a little passé don’t you think?

The Lord: Okay I admit it’s a little old school oh wait. . .  I’ve got an idea! How’s about I whip you up big ol’  burning  bush? We could roast marshmallows. . .

Gideon:  But I hate marshmallows! I want the  Wet-Wool/Dry-Wool miracle! I want! I want! I want!  Gimme!  Gimme! Gimme!

The Lord:  Okay  okay! I forgot how spoiled you 3000 BC Millenials are!

Later:

The Lord:  So Gideon, I see you have amassed a great army to rescue the Israelites.  How many have you amassed thus far?

Gideon:  Let’s see here . . . Roman numeral one. . . Roman numeral two . . . Roman numeral three . . .

The Lord:  Uh . . it looks  like about twenty thousand.  Uh oh.  With so many men, they’ll  be sure to win the war against the Medianites and then nobody will give Me credit for it. And even though I’m God, I still hate it when that happens. We’re going to have to weed some of them out.  I know!  Let’s send everybody home who is afraid.

Laterer:

The Lord:  Did you send home everyone who was afraid?

Gideon:  Yeah, that got rid of 22,000 right off the bat but there’s still 10,000 left.

The Lord:  Hm . . . that’s still too many . . .oh I know!  Send them all down to the river to get a drink and then I’ll come along and send the guys home who drink out of the river like a dog. Then just to be on the safe side, I’ll throw a stick really far away and that should take care of the stragglers.

Latererer:

The Lord: Okay Gideon how many we got now?

Gideon: Let’s see here.  I think about 500 . . . oh wait . . .  make that 300 . . . 200 just ran after a cat.

The Lord:  Perfect!

Gideon:  Wait a minute, Lord.  I see  a couple of them are turning around three times before lying down.  Should I get rid of them too?

The Lord:  No.We’ll keep them as subs.

Gideon:  Good idea!  They don’t call you The Lord for nothing!

The Lord:  I love you Gideon that’s why I just created this stack of bibles with your name on it!

Gideon:  Oh Whoopty-friggin’-do.

The Lord: Pardon?

Gideon:  Nothing.

 And that concludes part II of the adventures of Gideon.  Please check back next week at this same time when Gideon’s servant, Purah, comes up with a fantastic money-making idea for Purah-ina people chow.

Until next time . . . I love you

Gideon's men drinking like dogs

A Letter to Father Time From His Boss

Dear Father Time: 

Permit me to say, my dear Father Time

In this letter I write you (that I’m going to rhyme)

It looks like the future’s a big disappointment

Take pimples, for instance, there’s still not an ointment . . .

 

And no flying cars, now what’s up with that?

And where is that pill that you promised for fat?

 

No robots to wait on us twenty-four seven?

No ray guns to use to send someone to heaven?

 

Oh sure, we’ve got lasers, but that point is moot

When you up and forgot: anti-gravity boot

 

And where, may I ask, are time travel machines?

On the junk heap, no doubt (with the synthetic spleens)

 

My dear Father Time, I’m  perplexed and chagrined

That you’ve fallen behind on the future therein

 

After talking it over with Jack Frost and Cupid

I regret to inform you (I really feel stupid)

It’s time to let someone else give it a whirl

You’ve just been replaced by the Calendar Girl

img133

My Brain Peanuts Remembers: Santa Claus

Welcome Dear Readers to this edition of My Brain, Peanuts, remembers.

Today’s Topic:  Santa Claus

The first memory of Santa I have takes place in 1954, when I was three, and Santa Claus was making a live appearance in the basement of the Presbyterian church.  On the big day, everyone filed down the stairs to the chilly  church basement and eagerly awaited the arrival of The Man in Red. (Back then church-goers didn’t really worry about anyone forgetting that Jesus was the reason for the season because 1) there was plenty of room in church for both Santa and the baby Jesus and 2) nobody had thought of that catchy phrase yet.)

Ice-Cold Church Basement Sunday School Clay

Anyway, we all stood around watching our breaths and breathing in the aroma of Sunday School Clay.  That’s because our church basement always smelled like Sunday school clay. Sunday school clay is different from ordinary clay by virtue of the fact that it is kept in the cold church basement.  So Sunday school clay was always somewhat frozen and by the time you got it warmed up enough to roll it into something as simple as a snake, Sunday school was over.

I never understood why they even bothered with having clay unless it was just something to keep us occupied while the Sunday School teacher was earnestly trying to impart some useful biblical wisdom into our somewhat disengaged little minds.

A Communistic Christmas?

Anyway, we all stood around waiting for Santa and shivering beneath the glare of church basement’s fluorescent lights that cast a Russian-esque-like hue over the scene — probably not unlike the same scene that was transpiring on in the opposite side of our cold-war globe in the basement of the Kremlin while communist children waited for Soviet Santa to make his appearance –i.e. Khrushchev in a fuzzy hat.

Santa Khrushchev

I will bury you! No wait . . . have yourself a very merry Christmas . . . and then I will bury you!

 Anyway, when our Santa Claus finally appeared, he was wearing a rubber Santa Claus mask.  The weird thing is, I was the only one that seemed to notice.

Santa Mask

Mask? What mask?

All the kids ran up to him as he handed out candy.  I thought this was extremely alarming. So I began shouting at the top of my lungs, “Thanta Clauth ith wearing a Mathk!”   (I had a slight lisp at the time.)

But no one seemed to care.  Everyone was on board with this rubber-masked imposter. They were taking candy from him like it was candy.  What was wrong with everyone?  I screamed!  I shouted!  I was a three-year-old Paul Revere trying to warn my fellow pint-sized citizens not be taken in by this Santa Claus Charlton!  But nobody listened.

Not the Real Santa

On the way home, my mother tried to tell me that that wasn’t the real Santa wearing the rubber mask in the church basement.  The real Santa was busy at the north pole making presents, and he couldn’t take the time off to come all the way to our town to hand out candy (Plus it was probably too cold in that church basement even for him!)

I do believe in Santa . . . I do . . . I do . . . I do!

I wanted to believe her story.  I really did.  I looked up at the stars and tried to imagine Santa flying through the air.  I strained to hear the sound of Santa’s sleigh bells.  I neither saw nor heard a thing.  Try as I might, the integrity of the Santa story was beginning to form some big, gaping holes.

The Jack Hubbard Incident

When I was five years old, the subject of Santa came up, and I cruelly broke the news to dear, sweet, innocent, Santa-believing, Jack Hubbard that there was no Santa Claus.  I explained that he was merely a figment of the imagination, a tale told by an idiot, full of thound and fury thignifying nothing.(I still had my lisp).

A traumatized Jack Hubbard ran home, broken-hearted and told his mother what I had said.  Mrs. Hubbard called my mother.

My Mother:  Hello

Mrs. Hubbard:  Jack said Linda told him there was no Santa Claus. Did she tell Jack that?

My Mother:  Oh gosh I don’t know.  Let me ask her (my mother put the phone to her chest).  Linda, did you tell Jack there is no Santa Claus?

Me:  Yes.

My Mother:  Yes apparently she did tell Jack there wasn’t any Santa Claus.

Mrs. Hubbard: Why did she do that?

My Mother:  Oh gosh. Let me ask her.  (My mother put the phone to her chest again) Linda, why did you tell Jack there wasn’t any Santa Claus?

Me:  Because there isn’t any Santa Claus.

My Mother:  Oh.

I don’t remember what my mother said after that, but I do remember that neither my mother nor Mrs. Hubbard were none to happy with me and, frankly, I’ve been feeling guilty about it ever since.

This year my five-year-old grandson asked me if Santa Claus really existed.  I told him that believing in Santa Claus is a personal decision that he would have to make for himself. This seemed to placate him since he didn’t exactly understand what I was saying.

If only I had thought of this answer when I broke the news to Jack Hubbard.

Until next time . . . I love you

 

 

 

Saul, the Yardstick That Became a Ruler

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today Gregory learned about when Saul was anointed as Ruler of Israel.  Let’s listen in as Gregory tells us about the lesson.

gregorySaul, the Yardstick That Became a Ruler

Once there was a wealthy man named Kish who forgot to tie up his donkeys, and they all ran away.  So Kish sent his son Saul to find them. Saul Kished his father goodbye and set out on foot with his servant to the country of Ephraim which in those days was the donkey capital of the world.

Now, in biblical times, Saul was the sexiest man alive.  Not only was he handsome, but he was also a foot taller than everyone else in Israel.  Some biblical scholars believe his height was approximately two yardsticks tall, while other biblical scholars believe he was probably only six feet tall, while still other biblical scholars believe he was just wearing lifts. (Whatever it was, from Saul’s elevated vantage point, all he saw when he looked around was a sea of crooked yarmulkes.)

When Saul and his servant arrived at Zuph, they’d had enough of looking for donkeys.

Saul:  Let’s go back home or my father might stop worrying about donkeys and start worrying about us.

Servant:  Ha ha!  You actually made a little bit of a joke, Saul.

Saul:  What’s a joke?

Servant:  You know, it’s humor.

Saul:  You mean like body fluid humor such as blood, lymph or bile?

Servant:  No, I mean like humorous humor as in funny.  You’re a funny guy.

Saul:  Funny like I’m a clown?  Like I make you laugh? Like I’m here to amuse you?  How am I funny?  Funny how?

Servant:  No! Saul!  I guess what I meant was humor as in bile humor.  I always get those two mixed up!  Sorry Saul.

Saul:  Forget about it!  Now get over here and let me straighten up your yarmulke!

Servant:  Hey I just remembered something!

Saul:  I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with humor.

Servant:  No, there’s a seer in this town. If we give him a nickel, he can tell us where the donkeys are.

Saul:  I don’t want to give him a nickel.

Servant:  No I meant if I give him a nickel.

Saul:   Well what are we waiting for?  Let’s go!

As Saul and his servant were going up the hill to the town, they met some girls who were coming out to draw water:

Saul:  Excuse me.   Do you girls know if there’s a seer in town?

Girl #1:  A Sears?  No.  Our town’s pretty small.  We don’t even have a Walmart.

Saul:  Am I to understand that you mean you don’t have a wall around which your town is surrounded whereupon a mart lies within?

Girl: #1:  I guess.

Just then Saul and his servant ran into Samuel who was very important person in Israel, not quite a king, but way more than a mayor.  Samuel was the seer that Saul’s Servant said Saul would see (with or without six seashells by the seashore).

"Are you the seer?" "Yes, I'm the seer." "Well I'm just asking because your eyes are closed." "Yeah well at least I have eyes."

“Are you the seer?”
“Yes, I’m the seer.”
“Well I’m just asking because your eyes are closed.”
“Yeah well at least I have eyes.”

The day before God had told him Samuel that Saul would be coming and that Samuel was to anoint Saul as the ruler of Israel. So Samuel invited Saul to a big feast in which Saul was served the best piece of meat available at that time, a leg. (This was way before animals had breasts).

When the feast was over Samuel fixed up a nice place for Saul to sleep in his guest bedroom that also doubled as his roof.  The next morning Samuel took a jar of olive oil and poured it on Saul’s head.  “The Lord anoints you as ruler of his people of Israel,”  Samuel said, and then he gave Saul a great big ol’ Kish.

Not only am I anointing you the ruler of Israel, Saul, but this will do wonders for your dandruff.”

 And there you  have it, Dear Readers, what Gregory learned in Sunday School this morning.  Please come back next week at this same to find out what Gregory learns next.

Until next time . . . I love you

My Mighty Steed’s a Centipede

Oh roll of thunder hear my cry

I just got a dirt clod in my eye

A hundred feet they beat asunder

Atop my centipede of wonder

 

Never do I turn my head

For falling off’s my biggest dread.

Not that I’d have far to fall

For a centipede’s not tall at all

 

But his feet, my dear, are a hundred numbered

Yet he never finds himself encumbered

He ties his shoes so they don’t come loose

With a slip-knot, square-knot,  half-hitch noose

 

Centipede

Until next time  . . . I love you

 

 

 

My Brain, Peanuts, Remembers: Television

Hello Dear Readers!  Welcome to this edition of My Brain, Peanuts, Remembers.

Today’s Topic:  Television

Back in the 50’s, before there was nothing  good to watch on hundreds of satellite and cable TV channels,  we had to make do with nothing good to watch on only three measly little channels, ABC, NBC and CBS.

Ah the Simple Days!

Watching TV in the 50’s couldn’t have been simpler.  First of all, there was no remote to bother with.  We never had to spend upwards of a half hour rummaging around the Naugahyde davenport cushions trying to find the remote control.

Instead, my brothers and I would spend upwards of a half hour arguing over who should change the channel because they were the closest one to the television set.

I have one vivid memory of me and my little brother, Ricky, and my older brother, Peter, plastering ourselves against the back wall of our living room, each trying to make ourselves farthest away from the TV.  I can’t even imagine how many episodes of Ruff and Ready were wasted in this way.

Changing Channels

Changing the channel in those days was pretty simple.  You simply walked over to the TV and turned the dial until it would clunkily kachunk onto either 2 (ABC), 4 (CBS) or 6 (NBC).  The dial had way more numbers on it than 2, 4 and 6.  (It might have gone up to 11 now that I think about it.)

Obviously, TV manufacturers were the visionaries of the 1950’s. They kept their eyes focused on a day in the not too distant future when there might actually be more than snow to watch on all those other channels.

50's television snow

They saw the future and it didn’t look anything like this, thank god!

But in the 50’s, because there wasn’t that much on TV and because we were all so giddy about television viewing, we were all pretty much okay with watching snow.

My grandmother, who lived way out in the country and had no cable connection or antenna reception, claimed she got channel 13.  She’d proudly turn on her TV set and turn the dial to channel 13.  There  would be nothing but snow on the screen. But if you listened closely enough, you could occasionally make out the sound of voices although it was impossible to figure out what they were saying.

I remember visiting my grandmother and sitting in front of her TV set watching the snow and listening to the random voices.  Her TV set was pretty fancy.  It was in a blond wooden cabinet that had shuttered doors.  I’d sit in front of it, watching the snow and listening for voices while my grandmother would watch from her new white Naugahyde couch while she crocheted colorful afghans (the blankets not the people). My grandmother was totally on board with mid-century decor.

The Thrill of Saturday Morning Cartoons

My brothers and I would get up at the crack of dawn on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons.  But if we were too early, we would turn on the TV and watch the snow because all the stations quit broadcasting at midnight and didn’t resume broadcasting until about 7 a.m. in the morning.

So every night at midnight, all three stations would broadcast a recording of The Star Spangled Banner and then sign off.  Everybody was a lot more patriotic in those days.

Maybe because there was a cold war going on, and you never knew if tonight would be the night that Nikita Khrushchev would get tanked up on vodka and accidentally pass out on the atomic bomb button that was aimed directly at your hometown.

It’s little wonder that TV programmers figured it was probably a good idea to send everybody off to bed with a good dose of patriotism.

Anyway, on Saturday morning, my brothers and I would watch the snow until the thrill of the test pattern came on:

IndianHeadTestPattern16x9 (1)

Not only is this impressive, did you know one of the colors is magenta?

Once the test pattern came on things really got exciting.  It meant we were almost to the beginning of actual television broadcasting and one minute closer to watching the cartoon adventures of Ruff and Ready!

The test pattern was accompanied by a long tone like you would hear during an emergency broadcast warning.  Then an announcer would come on and explain what the colors of the test pattern were.  One of the colors was magenta. Every week my brothers and I wondered what color magenta was.

MagentaIcon

Okay just googled magenta,. and even google isn’t sure what color magenta is.

Sometimes while we were waiting for the cartoons to start, my brothers would scrape the frost off the freezer box in the refrigerator and eat it like a snow cone. I never cared much for the frost on the pre-defrost-free refrigerator freezers.  I always felt it had a funny aftertaste. But my brothers seemed to enjoy it.

freezer frost

Peter and Ricky viewed this freezer frost as the snow cone half full.

Ah yes!  TV in the 50’s.  I often ask myself if there’s anything today that compares to that long-ago  thrill of hearing the theme song to Ruff and Ready while eating freezer snow cones . . . and the answer, Dear Readers, is yes . . . practically everything!

 

Until next time . . . I love you

A Visit From the Toaster Reviewer Gal!

Welcome Dear Readers!  Today the Toaster Reviewer Gal was kind enough to drop by the blog and leave a copy of the cover letter she wrote for a Toaster Reviewer job she is hoping to get.  Let’s take a look at it, shall we?

Position Applied for:  Toaster Reviewer 

Dear Hiring Manager:

Your posting on LinkedIn for a Professional Toaster Reviewer recently caught my eyes, perked up my ears and blew my nose (jk).   I think you will find that I am an exceptional candidate for the position of Toaster Reviewer.

While I have been temporarily out of work for the last three years (don’t ask), I have still managed to stay on top of my game in the field of toaster reviewing.

You see, I currently own and operate a Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, upon which I keep my Toaster  Reviewing skills as sharp as a butter knife by making toast each morning and recording all my thoughts and feelings about my toasting adventures in my journal entitled,  “Scraping to Desired Lightness” (which is currently making the rounds at various publishing houses on the island of Guam, btw).

As an accomplished Toaster Reviewer, many of my reviews can be found on many high-level consumer review toaster websites such as:

Google Toast (www.googletoast.com)

So You’re Going to Have a Piece of Toast (www.soyou’regoingtohaveapieceoftoast.com)

Unplug the Smoke Detectors Kids!, Mommy’s Makin’ Toast! (www.goop.com).

But my accomplishments do not end there.  I also offer exceptional attention to detail and come to the position with my private list of some of the most powerful toaster-review adjectives in the Toaster-Reviewing industry today–which I have gleaned over the course of my career as an international Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal!

As a Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal, I have written these e-books, which are, unfortunately, only available on Amazon Guam, but still!

Toaster Book one

 

Toaster Gal Book two

Toaster book 3

My accomplishments and qualifications are further detailed in my hard copy resume which is on it’s way to you via the Guam postal service.  Please disregard the burned edges, frankly the Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, still has some bugs that need working out in my professional opinion as a Professional Toaster Reviewer Gal (see above).

In closing, I am as thrilled about being a part of your Professional Toaster Reviewer team as you must be at receiving this cover letter from me.  (That’s  a Haiku, btw!)

Please contact me at my earliest convenience, and I look forward to our mutual admiration.

Sincerely,

Everybody’s Favorite Toaster Reviewer Gal!

And there you have it, Dear Readers, and I don’t know about you but I think she’s got a pretty good chance. Especially if there’s an opening in Guam!

Until next time  . . . I love you