Humor
Wild Turkey Tale
Pick up the pace we have to hurry
Matilda’s missing I’m getting worried
Into the oven she’s been shoved
Bid adieu to my true love
Packed with stuffing, trussed and skewered
I only wish she had been shrewder
Soon to be hash casserole
Thanksgiving takes a hefty toll
Pick up your feet we best not tarry
Or next they’ll snatch up uncle Harry
Have a Happy Thanksgiving!
Mud Fest 2016
Considering the raucous tenor of
the 2016 Presidential campaign
and the first Presidential debate,
perhaps the traditional format
whereby candidates seek cover behind
their respective podiums and
sling rhetorical mud at each other,
should be modified accordingly.In that all borders of civility
have long ago been breached, it
might be more apropos to dispense
with the pomp and circumstance
and dive right into the slimy muck
head first, with a ‘get down and dirty’
mud wrestling match.I can see the headline now:
‘Don The Dominator vs Hil The Hellcat’The media would eat it up, providing
blow-by-blow coverage and 24/7 replays.Sponsors would scramble to get
a piece of the action.And, it would lend that reality show
flavor to the proceedings to which the
American public has become accustomed.Which would survive the fracas,
Donald’s hair or Hillary’s pantsuit?Whether you choose to tune in or tune out,
be sure to cast your vote come November!Inspired by Daily Prompt: Border
Curmudgeons R Us
The time has come for a store
catering specifically to the
needs of seniors.The following items would be
added to my Wish List
immediately:–An ear bud which adjusts the
speed of those who talk faster than
a jackrabbit runs.–An App to instruct bewildered
teenagers how to handle legal
tender and correctly make change.–A button to push which would
transform the robotic wait staff
of chain restaurants into real people
with personalities, able to
communicate without a script
to follow.–A device to turn the latest
Windows release into whatever
version from the past decade you
prefer to use.–A tool to instill a work and
service ethic in employees
who view customer interaction
as an imposition which cuts into
their chat time with friends.–Clothing which is stylish without
tops that fit like sausage casings
and bottoms that slide off the
hips to your knees.–Eyeglasses which automatically
adjust miniscule, well nigh
invisible print into a readable size.–And last, but not least,
a magic potion turning back
the hands of time, so none of
the aforementioned are necessary.
Daily Prompt – Fifty
FIFTY:
Snail’s pace on the Autobahn
Ways To Leave Your Lover (Paul Simon)
Mid-century modern
Halfway there
Ten nickels
Half full (optimist)
Failing grade
AARP wants you
Dreaded reunion
The new 30
Ulysses S. Grant’s bill
States in the union
Short of a majority
Half empty (pessimist)
Golden anniversary
On sale today (BOGO)
Halfway to go
Even steven
Fifty more to 100
A Trip To The Store
I recall accompanying my mother shopping
in the late ‘50’s and early 1960’s.
This wasn’t Saks Fifth Avenue, mind you,
just local retailers, independently owned.
Upon entering the premises, a sales associate
immediately offered assistance.
The clerk queried to determine customer needs.
Items were pulled and brought to the dressing room.
The sales associate checked back regularly to clear
unwanted merchandise and bring additional sizes or styles.
A seamstress was ready with tape measure and pins in hand.
Basic tailoring of apparel was complimentary.
Items purchased were neatly bagged, boxed or placed
on hangers, once wrinkles were removed with a steamer.
Regular customers were addressed by name.
Sales associates became familiar with the individual
preferences of customers and often gave a heads up
when new merchandise arrived which might suit
their particular needs.
Fast Forward to 1985
My mother needed a new spring jacket. I accompanied her
to a local mall. It took a few minutes, but we finally located
the coat department.
Two sales associates were busy straightening and
stocking merchandise. Neither greeted us or asked
if they could be of help.
My mother was short on energy and patience. I started
browsing the racks, picked up some items, ushered
her back to the dressing room and helped her on and
off with jackets.
Another trip to the floor found both sales associates absent.
I gathered up more items and… BINGO… found a winner.
When we exited the dressing room, the sales associates
had magically reappeared and were standing at the register
chatting away.
When I caught their attention, they began arguing about
whose sale it was. Although ready to blow a gasket,
I calmly explained the obvious…I had done all the work
helping my mother and the sale was rightfully mine.
Jaws dropped in unison.
The transaction was completed forthwith and we were
on our way. (I never received my commission check.)
Fast Forward to 2016
A trip to a big box retailer is easily a half-marathon event
that requires navigating an arena-sized facility where
unsuspecting customers can spend the rest of their lives
unless they leave a trail of bread crumbs behind them.
And don’t count on those employees decked out in matching headsets to acknowledge your existence.
The best I can determine, they only communicate with each other… or maybe Mars.
Meanwhile, brick and mortar stores wonder why more and more people choose to shop online.
It’s quite simple.
We prefer to be ignored in the comfort of our own homes.
Reality TV Gone Awry
So far, the 2016 Amazing Presidential Race
has been the most raucous, contentious,
perplexing, ludicrous event in recent history.With Republican contenders’ Animal House
antics, they have barely stopped short of
hurling spit wads along with the barrage
of sophomoric insults.On the other side of the political aisle,
Big Brother continues to investigate
Hillary’s e-mails, while Bernie dreams
of building a socialist utopia on the island.Seriously people, it doesn’t take an
Undercover Boss to surmise there isn’t
a viable Presidential Apprentice among the lot.Or even a plausible contestant to appear on
Dancing With the Stars, as it is painfully
clear they are unable to refrain from
stomping all over each other’s toes.The burning question is, “Does America still
Have Talent?”Maybe the fair citizens of our great nation
should consider launching a write-in
campaign. If only Charlie Brown was
available to run and would accept the bid.After all, he is a true American Idol.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but
as I examine the roster of choices and
contemplate who might be the sole Survivor
still standing after election day,
I’m beginning to feel Naked and Afraid.
Out of My Write Mind 