"if it's good news, it must be someone else's"

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Updated Monty Python Classic Witch Scene

(C) Sir Clapper
(Obama) President Obama
(M) 'Witch' man

(P1,P2,P3) Press Agents one, two and three

Press: We have found a witch! (A witch! a witch!)
Burn him! Burn him!

Press Agent 1: We have found a witch, may we burn him?

Clapper: How do you known he is a witch?
P2: He looks like one!
C: Bring him forward

Man: I'm not a witch! I'm not a witch!
C: ehh... but you are orange like one.
M: They colored me up like this!
All: naah no we didn't... no.
M: And this isn't my hair piece, it's a false one.
(C lifts up ferret skin)

C: Well?
P1: Well we did do the hair
C: The hair?
P1: ...And the baseball hat, but he is a witch!
all:  yeah, burn him burn him!)
C: Did you dress him up like this?
P1: No! (no no... no) Yes. (yes yeah) a bit (a bit bit a bit) But he has got a wart on his small hand!
(P3 points at wart)

C: What makes you think he is a witch?
P2: Well, he turned me into Newt!
C: Newt Gingrich?!
(P2 pause & look around)

P2: I got better.

P3: Burn him anyway! (burn him burn him burn!)
(Obama walks in)

C: There are ways of telling whether he is a witch.
P1: Are there? Well then tell us! (tell us)
C: Tell me... what do you do with witches?
P3: Burn'em! Burn them up! (burn burn burn)
C: What do you burn apart from witches?
P1: More witches! (P2 nudge P1)

P3: Dung!
C: So, why do witches burn?
(long pause)

P2: Cuz they're made of... dung?
C: Gooood.
(crowd congratulates P2)

C: So, how do we tell if he is made of dung?
P1: Build a hut out of him!
C: Ahh, but can you not also make huts out of stone?
P1: Oh yeah...
C: Does dung sink in water?
P1: Yes
P3: Yes!
P1: Let's throw him into the septic field! (yeah yeah ya!)
C: But what floats in water?
P1: Bread
P3: Apples
P2: Very small rocks
(V looks annoyed)

P1: Cider
P3: Grape gravy
P1: Cherries
P3: Mud
Obama: An orange Duck!
(all look and stare at king)

C: Exactly! So, logically...
P1 (thinking): If he weighs more than an orange duck... he's made of dung!
C: And therefore,
(pause & think)

P3: A witch! (P1: a witch)(P2: a witch)(all: a witch!)
C: We shall use my largest scales.
(V jumps down)
(walk over while cheering)
(push him into scale)

C: All right! Remove the stops!
(Scale topples over to man’s side)

All: An orange witch! Burn him! Burn him!!

Monday, July 28, 2014

The Crowd Idiot

I saw Lewis Black perform not too long ago. He was hilarious. The bit about a Starbucks being across the street from another Starbucks was top shelf. I sat in the back row. And two seats to my right sat the crowd idiot. They always sit within arms length of me. It is my lot in life. Some people make millions of dollars playing the games we all played while growing up. I sit next to the crowd idiot.

I don’t know why this is always the case, but it is as much a certainty as Newton's law of gravity. It is primarily why I hate to go out where people gather, but this is getting off point. Between Lewis's jokes, the crowd idiot was compelled to bark out words in an idiot’s tongue. He did this a dozen times—an idiot's dozen, which is around 31. He wasn’t funny. He wasn’t engaging. He was, however, a particularly effective crowd idiot, drawing the ire of those near and far alike. And he sat two seats away.

It was when he screamed, "Kentucky Woman", apparently under the delusion that he was at a Neil Diamond concert, that I had my "aha" moment. Ushers should be armed with assault rifles and allowed to remove crowd idiots from the gene pool before they procreate with their tainted seed. And when they do, a tip bucket should be passed among the audience as reward for a job well done.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Two reasons to go to the movies at 3:45 PM on Tuesdays

1. no one else is there and if there are patrons, they can't hear background noise or smell a lick if they tried
2. you can fart like a bastard if you need to

No more robot weeding out

It's been pointed out to me by itsmecissy, a dame with a steely tongue but a heart as big as North Dakota, that she is no robot and is tired of being treated as such by the word verification forced upon her, when all she wants to do is leave a comment or two on this thing I do ... this thing with words and sentences ... this blog.

I think the word testing thing was some residual stuff I had put into place three years ago when I was being bombarded by (and I know this sounds crazy) Vladimir Putin's trolling robot. I could tell it was Putes because I just could. It always left the stink of caviar and Vodka. Just sayin'. Anyway, it's gone. I'll take my chances. Besides, old Vladdy has other things on his dopey mind these days.

So there you have it. Sorry itsmecissy! There's no good done by making a gal like you upset.

As for those word verifications, sometimes I think robots are the only things that can understand them. I never can. I have to listen to the audio. And if there is no audio, there's no Bob. Simple like that.

Friday, July 25, 2014

The insider view: Bob at work

I've been at this new job now for about three years. Same old, same old: a big Pharma company in need of some basic IT support. In steps Bob. A boyish comic trapped in the body of a technology guy. As things go, this may just be the best group of business people I have ever worked with. Right up there with a three year stint I had from 1980 to 1983 in Phoenix, Arizona, of all places.

Anyway, I communicate mostly by email; a tempting instrument for the likes of me with that comic dementia ringing in my ears 16 by 7. And when the mood strikes me and I have the right audience on the other side ... well I get nuts. I can't help myself. Bob gets stupid.

Exhibit A: The person in this exchange, Barbara, sits near me in our new "open space" office. She is the department's communication guru. She also has a smiley sun balloon, whom she calls Mr. Sun and whom I threaten to do in from time to time. That's important to keep in mind while reading the email exchange. I initially emailed her to let her know I would be working from home, after I had been to the dentist. And I couldn't even send that simple message without being a wise guy. But she is a nut case and my equal in idiocy. This simple message quickly degenerated into what I'd call "business noir".

If interested in seeing how Bob operates in Corporate America, please click on the link below, and remember, the file is an email chain, so you need to start at the end and read to the start. If you read it in any other sequence, you run the risk of fever and hives; in rare cases people have vanished for 19 hours.

Well, here goes. Hope you return:

Just another email exchange at the office

Sunday, July 20, 2014

James Taylor

I knocked off a to-do on my bucket list this past week. I saw James Taylor live before one of us was dead, which by definition would kill the live part for one of us. And by the looks of things at the concert, I may have done this just in the knick of time.

By the way, he was great. He was James.

I'm corrected

Keaton said, "You men think you can do everything we can do."
I said, "Well other than having babies, that's pretty much true."
She said, "Oh yeah, try being a mermaid, Mr. Smarty Pants."
And I said, "Okay, I'm corrected, while standing."