Oscar Wilde: "What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing."
Hoogie woogie, wiggie woggy! My counter passed the 12 thousand mark at Most Frequent Blogger Quetions! What difference does that make? Hell if I know. Just seems like a big number to me!
Maybe someone will want to make a Hollywood movie? MFBQ on a shingle? Naked MFBQ? MFBQ Wars? Dream on, Rat...
Joan Collins: "The problem with beauty is that it's like being born rich and getting poorer."
W. C. Fields: "I always keep a supply of stimulant handy in case I see a snake--which I also keep handy."
Here's a mind-blowing bit of dog-and-cat news for pet owners at Is Your Dog Vegan? It's long, but worthwhile.
The Soviet shitheel must eventually crush Afghanistan—so logic says.
And so it is surprising that the firmness of Soviet disbelief has taken so long to quell the Faithful of God. One must wonder. These Afghanistan fighters—how can they win? And some, whether religious or just observant, might look at their fervor and say, “How can they lose?”
September 30, 1989
Now, of course, it seems as if the Russians are really leaving. But why? It appears to be that they finally realized they couldn't afford the battle. It cost 'em too much money!
I wrote the above some time ago, back around 1980. I started it before it was apparent that the Russians could not win. Now it strikes me that WE are in the Soviet position with Afghanistan and Iraq. We think our opposition are just dirty desert bandits. But what they’re doing is the equivalent of Fighting For Jesus. And just for the hellacious Fun of it, too. And that’s an unfortunate advantage to have over the poor young well-behaved boys from rich America, who keep fighting the battle with technology and air power on their side. But maybe not God. Move over, Jesus, make room for Allah and his bloodthirsty pals. There's a religion to killing really well; ask any career military man.
THE END
rcs.
Current draft: 03/24/07
©1980 Ronald C. Southern
If you traipse over to my poetry blog, Judy Garland Blues, you can read
a poem about a historical instance that I elaborated on. In short I pretended I was there. Maybe I was.
Thomas Sowell: "Much of the social history of the Western world over the past three decades has involved replacing what worked with what sounded good."
Those of you dedicated to my service (having found Satan's service a bit heavy to bear) may have noticed the return of the calendar in the sidebar that I had mistakenly deleted a few days ago. It's like a clock radio, except it's a clock calendar. Big whoop. Below it, a trifle more esoteric, is the replacement of Blogger's dull old profile with my own dull profile, presented in an html/javascript page element format. The profile at Most Frequent Blogger Questions is still there, but discernibly different. The profiles are lacking (at the moment) in Dogger Gatsby's Blues and Judy Garland Blues because I turned the Blogger Profile off completely and have yet to replace them with a page element. I'm looking for a photo of Mortimer Snerd I can use.
File this under: Things I Didn't Need To Know!
1. Furmeister Furor
2. Fussmeister Error
3. Fugmeister Fluster
4. My Comeuppance In Italian Boots
5. Rednecks In Touch With Their Feelings
6. Busty Women In Touch With Rednecks
7. Will There Be Parallel Parking In Paradise?
8. Cauliflowers And Moonbeams
9. Pestifalent Perusers In Paradise
10. Canons of Cancerous Mindsets
11. Lost In Blooming Britches
12. Silly Titles Raised To An Art
13. Crankcases On Parade
14. Cracking Nuts With Electricity
15. Looming Indisposition
16. Sick Of This Shit
17. Porn Was More Fun When All the Dames Were Scags
18. When Did Scags Stop Meaning Ugly Women?
19. Scags: Ugly Women As Cited By Ugly Men
20. What The Hell Do Scags Have To Do With Anything?! Maybe I Meant Skanks?
What are you hanging around for, anyway? There's only a few of you, and that ought to give you a clue that you're out of the mainstream, off down a crooked bend, deep in an unpopular vein! This is not where you're supposed to be! I am one of the people your momma warned you about! I myself used to hang around with the kind of people that my mom (my daddy, too) warned me about, so I should know! There are so few of you, though, that I guess there is still hope for America. The whole bunch of us are less significant than a half dozen bananas. Sorry. If you came here to feel important, you're in the wrong place. Jefferson Airplane once sang, "We are all outlaws in the eyes of Amerika!" These days, we are just bananas.
Adlai E. Stevenson Jr.: "My definition of a free society is a society where it is safe to be unpopular."
I answer a lot of questions in the Blogger Help Group and sometimes I get good thank-you's. Always good to hear that "Thank you, masked man!" On the other hand, sometimes there is no reply and I wonder what happened. Do some of the people begging for help fail to find their way back to the right thread (the line of answers provoked by their original question)? Do some of them get back and don't understand the jargon and then just fade away from us? It could happen and there's no way to prevent it.
A newbie has to be an eager beaver to some extent, someone willing to dig in his/her heels and keep asking "But what about this?" And they do have to leave a bread trail of some sort to find their thread amid dozens, if not hundreds, of threads! I suppose some of them actually take their football and go home (go to Wordpress or some other blogging enabler). People are always threatening to go. Once upon a time, even I did! Now I'm too vested; I have all these answers for and even more familiarity with Blogger. Once upon a time, it was hard for me. Now, it may not quite be easy, but it's Doable!
Still, the newbies keep coming, wave after wave, knowing little and quickly wanting to achieve great things! (The most tremendous things!) They want to know how one and one equals two. Worse yet, some of them want to know how one and one equals three! Shit, I don't know! It tests one's communication skills to explain some of this stuff. Where does one start? At the beginning? But where's the beginning?! How much detail do they need? Do they need screen shots? Are they as logical as me? (Or as logical as I profess to be!) Are my explanations too long or too short? How will I ever know when so many of them make no responses?
Well, I just hang my head and go on. I ASSUME that the thank-you's I get are typical and that I am a great help to all mankind. Probably I'm full of beans. But that's my story, and I'm sticking to it!
Logan Pearsall Smith: "It is the wretchedness of being rich that you have to live with rich people."
I just remembered this word from my childhood. I guess it was the fashion when I and my equally vulgar cousins were 12 or so. Oh, what is a dingleberry (somebody from another planet asks)!
I won't say I haven't encountered the phenomena lately, just not the terminology. I certainly haven't heard anybody called one for decades! I think you have to hang around with a bunch of adolescent boys or insanely immature men to get those good old-fashioned Dingleberry conversations! In any case, it is a better insult than calling someone a prick or a cunt--those, after all, are just references to a body pant, not to an absolutely filthy condition that is utterly repugnant to anyone (except the adolescent boys and immature men).
If you have any good dingleberry stories, send them to Dear Abby, not to me!
Old friends slide away from me and I slide the other way. It is difficult, if not impossible,, to hang onto one's old life or to one's old friends. I don't mind so much that the life is gone, but the friends do bother me. I saw a news article on CBS the other night about a group of old geezers who had been playing poker together for over 50 years! One old fella even had Alzheimer's, but it didn't matter, the others played his cards for him, and every once in a while the old man would smile! It made all the other old men feel pretty good when he did. It was a great story. I don't think I know of anything to compare to it, not in my life or my acquaintance. Everyone who isn't gone is at a distance. Some died, some moved, some drifted away on the breeze. Is it perhaps that none of them were ever friends? No, you can't say that, or I'd have to conclude that I've never had any friends. It's more complicated than that, but even if I could untangle it, it wouldn't matter. This is how things have gone, and there's no putting the egg back in the shell.
Bob Dylan's Dream
There are so many people who write to Blogger Help Group who claim that it is very important to get their blog back up online. People rely on them for this, that, and the other. Either people are waiting with baited breath for their pearls of wisdom or else the world's businessmen cannot do without their services! I sometimes wonder what all these very demanding people are doing on a FREE service that never promised them anything. Google/Blogger is a behemoth corporation who own everything that Microsoft doesn't own. Their corporate view is clearly aimed toward business, but the creatures they are concerned with are their advertisers, not whether you and I as bloggers are happy, productive, or fat. I have to say that, though I'd be mighty pissed and upset if I couldn't blog daily, there would be no downfall of civilization occur because of it. People who love me can live without me for great periods of time. They got along without me before they met me, and they'll get along without me now. The same is true of Coca-Cola and Daimler-Chrysler and all of Wall Street! Nobody out there is living off the hot air that I expell. If they were, they'd be fools. If they love me (or my trash), that would be very different. The oddity on Blogger Help Group is that we don't hear that complaint very often. I guess it's considered bad form to whine, "But my friends, they all LOVE ME! They can't do without me! Yeah, sure. I am not sanguine about how charitable Blogger really is, for the world moves on money and little else. So sometimes I wonder what people are thinking when they complain so vociferously in the forum. I suppose we all WANT WHAT WE WANT and it really isn't more complicated than that. How we came to rely on our blogs as we do on the air that we breathe, I don't know. Millions of people have learned that they love to scribble for friends and strangers, and now we can't give it up. We are Entertainers now, and must keep going!
So, if I am declared a Spam Blog tomorrow and smacked down out of the air like a lazy mosquito, you may have to live without me for days or weeks! Try to toughen your mind to that prospect and be prepared to suffer. You will all miss me, but you WILL survive! Got it? I hope so. I'm getting tired of all these thousands of crybabies at once. Besides, they're harder to cheer up or please than a couple of real babies or infants, and God knows that that's a task!
"Call-for-Jesus!" someone in the smoky bar exclaimed. No one knew exactly who had said it.
"What's that you say?" a drunk woman on the other side of the bar guffawed into her beer. "A telephone call for Jesus? That doesn't sound very damn likely to me!"
Then she chugged the beer down and wiped her mouth with her sleeve while the dirty guy beside her slipped his hand inside her blouse.
"You gonna buy me another beer?" she asked him, placing her hand very deliberately on top of his.
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DEAR SIDEBAR JUNKIES: Have I been eccentric enough lately? Lord knows I try. I'd hate to be accused of being too kind. |
