talent acquisition department

okay, as many of you know, i'm in job search mode.
so i'm a very busy, humbled and humiliated person these days trying to land that next great post-fifties career the aarp keeps insisting is out there for me.

well, i'm going to withhold details except to say i recently was informed through an email from one very prominent retailer that my resume has been sent along to—now get this—the talent acquisition department.
i thought, say what?
so i read the email again.
yup, it's right there ... "the talent acquisition department".
and i thought some more—well i do play guitar, and i can juggle three balls for about 6 seconds. but what does that have to do with being a bouncer at victoria's secret.

just like the deep cleaning required to remove the tartar under my gums, this was going to take some deep thinking, and maybe just as painful.
so up to my beloved cranelegs pond i went and collapsed into my wanna-be lawn chair for much needed reflection.

now when i reflect on such matters, i usually fall asleep from getting all tired but this time, the reflecting was painless and it all came to me pretty darn quick.
i'd even say before the third mosquito bite, which in pond time is usually no more than thirty seconds.
i suppose i could attribute all the cranium focus to this veggie diet keaton has me on, but i'm never gonna tell her that.
not in a hundred years.
anyway, it occurred to me this is just a new name for what usually passed as the personnel department, that is before it was gobbled up by something called human resources.
now that is sure some fancy talk, "talent acquisition".
wonder how much it cost to have consultants come up with that gem?
"talent acquisition", hmmm, kinda makes me think i'm being considered for a spot on the ed sullivan show—or something similar since old ed there has been dead for quite some time.

i concluded that as soon as i got back to the house, i would change the family phone greeting to include me juggling while saying "leave a message at the beep", ya know, just in case they called while i was out and about.
so i did, even though juggling and talking at the same time is a far cry from chewing gum and talking at the same time.
but i got it done, eventually.
immediately following, i took a much needed nap, because when i execute ideas like that, i'm pretty much drained for one day.

besides, on the off chance a talent acquisitionist called me while i was busy regenerating my thinking talents, they'd get treated to a dazzling, unexpected performance for sure, pretty much guaranteeing that their particular victoria's secret would have the only guitar playin'. 6-second-three-ball jugglin' bouncer in the land—"hey man! you do not want me to place my guitar and balls down and come over there! no fondling the mannequins!"

(from the files) 178. the poppy help desk scripts

my dad (a.k.a., poppy) called last night.
poppy said, hey babes, got a moment?
(he calls everyone, babes)
i thought, uh-oh, solitaire isn’t working on the pc again.
i said, yeah pops, what’s up?
he said, babes i hate to bother you but the tv picture doesn’t work. it’s just snow. have any ideas?
so i pulled out my trusty poppy help desk script in order to walk through the questions in order: which remotes he used, on which components, in what modes, in what sequence, etc.
it can be a lengthy procedure.
anyway, it was a fruitless attempt, and i missed "the daily show" to boot.
so he had to settle for watching the bedroom tv until professional help could arrive.

the next morning he called to tell me he fixed it.
he plugged in the cable box that he had disconnected as part of his vacuuming routine.

so i promptly added "is the cable box plugged in" to the beginning of my poppy help desk script as part of my continuous process improvement strategy.
come to think of it, maybe i should add power outage too, which would score nicely for my "thinking out of the box" initiative.

benny doesn't know foxy

benny said, i think that betty white is kind of foxy.
i said, say what?!!
benny said, betty white is foxy.
i said, did you say betty white!!
benny said, yeah! betty!! foxy!! white!!
i said, you know you just might be the biggest foxymoron i know.

(from the files) 962. something about al roker

we all know one.
a person who defies gravity and is merry 24 by 7.
and just in case you don't know anyone, i've got two words: al roker.
that kind of jolly fellow.

boy i'd love to be a fly on his merry walls.
who is he kiddin' anyway?
no one can be that merry all the time.
i mean, what did he do on 9/11?
hide, knowing it wasn't a good day for public merriment?
keeping all that merry to himself?

nope, these merry types can't be trusted.
they're a misery suppressed lot if you ask me.
mark my words, poor al is going to show up dead in a back alley somewhere not looking so merry.
and when everyone else is running around shocked, i'll be the first to say, i told you so.

don't get me wrong.
i like al roker.
i like him a lot, especially with all that weight loss and stuff.
and believe me, i hope it doesn't come to this.
but if he doesn't show some miserableness very soon, he's pushing his merry luck.

being miserable from time to time is downright mental healthy.
old man vanderbeek up the road was miserable all the time and he lived to a hundred and nineteen, if a day.
i'm just saying, a little misery can go a long way.

so the next time you see that merry person, tell 'em.
tell 'em to wipe that smile off their face.
tell 'em before it's too late.
tell 'em for their own miserable good.
besides, it'll make you feel merrier too boot!

(from the blook) next life

i asked, hey keaton what do you want to be in your next life?
she said, a mermaid, what about you?
i said, a fisherman with a net made of soft, pink satin.

and then i winked.

(from the blook) fiery maidenhood

sleeping next to keaton is like pressing up against a wood burning stove sometimes.
so this morning while sipping on our coffee, i asked her, what is the hotness all about?
she answered, oh, i like to think of it as my fiery maidenhood.

now i don’t know where she comes up with these snappy one-liners but when she does, i usually spray a mouthful of coffee across the room.

this morning was such a geyser of glee.

big old welcome to across the pond

just wanted to introduce the newest member of the elite "friends of the pond" club.
england's very own juliana (a.k.a., lady goodwood) now graces us with outstanding mum humor and assorted antics in that oh so funny british way.
enjoy!

(from the files) 124. mom and her pc - 1

mom: so i went to that amazon jungle website like you said. the next thing i know, i have this shopping cart full of stuff i didn't buy. so i tried to leave but they stopped me.
me: what do you mean they stopped you?
mom: just like i said! i got this nasty message telling me to drop my mouse and put up my hands, because i'm being detained for online shoplifting. now what will i tell that nosey audrey bottoms next door when the rumors begin to fly?
me: what do you care? you're in a retirement village. they'll be asleep or dead before you finish explaining this to them.

that sort of loose screw

do you have a neighbor who seems pretty well bolted down in all ways until you become accidentally privy to a loose screw?
you know, they do the neighborly things like leave bags of tomatoes from their garden at your front door.
or bring mail over that was mistakenly delivered to them.
or engage in pleasant stop and chats about the weather when paths cross as the result of daily comings and goings.
all that normal, friendly carrying on.

the kind of stuff that builds community and good faith until ...

every thursday at 2:30 pm, when she sings opera from the not so privacy of her garage, except it's no opera i ever heard, with the words all changed to tell ribald tales of wild sex, in which man parts are manhandled while in the angry bondage grip of a woman scorned, accenting each verb of titillating torture with the rhythmic snap of a well launched bullwhip.
the kind of shenanigans that lead me to accidentally hide in a thicket of thorns and bees for hours on end around the same time.
afraid to move.
afraid to breathe.
afraid to miss a note she sings from her mesmerizing aria of carnal exploits from an imagination gone deeply and completely perverse.

you know, that sort of loose screw.
do ya?

the beck/palin tea party needs some accountability

here is what is wrong with this so-called tea party that beck and palin would have us believe is the backbone of the country they love.

they're fearful and naive!

that's what's wrong.

the billboard above was produced and paid for by the north iowa tea party.
to compare the president of our country, who was voted in overwhelmingly by a free populace, to the likes of hitler and lenin is as anti-american and unpatriotic as one can get.
and to further suggest obama's "change" preys on the fearful and naive is just plain crazy.
the billboard itself is the product of and tribute to fear and naivete.
furthermore, its designer, the tea party, is the party of fear and naivete.
and they have been preyed upon brilliantly and profitably by the fear-mongering of its self-proclaimed champions, beck and palin.

so explain yourselves beck and palin.
explain how this is part of the country you love and want back.

i'm not laughing anymore.
the cutesy, flippant, inflammatory speak of beck/palin is firing up a very dangerous anger that is starting to leak from the edges, as evidence by this latest national insult.
their  talk of socialism and death panels and reverse racism is just stirring the pot.
if they keep it up, the unthinkable will occur, if it isn't too late already.
this sort of crap has got to stop.
it's time for some accountability.

what do you say beck and palin?

the cougar invite

i have a mailbox folder for spam.
stuff goes there automatically if it's deemed unsavory, or if i auto reroute email there, for instance, like anything i might get from oprah (don't ask, it's part of the impasse).
anyway, this folder called spam is not good enough.
i need another folder for insalubrious invitations.
insalubrious you ask?
oh, you betcha ya!

like the one i just got yesterday to "hook up with a cougar".
ggggrrrrrhhhh!
now for some of my more, shall we say, "naive" readers (i won't mention any names pam), this particular kind of cougar is not the sort of wild cat that can put a pretty good tear in your couch.
it's more the sort that can put a pretty good tear on the back of a strapping young man.
specifically, it's a "mature" woman who is interested in being wild all right, as long as the object of her wild is a young stud at least twenty five years her junior.

so apparently one of these cats wants a piece of one of me.
now forgetting the stud part for the time being—it's really not important that i am—we're talkin' 85 year old women here.
old enough to be my mother.
and i love my mom to death but the idea of ... well ... i just don't need to go there now, do i?

so you see what i mean about needing another folder.
calling it spam is an insult to spam.
it's spum, if it's anything.
yeah, that's it.
i need a spum folder and i need it stat!

(from the blook) novocaine and a large piece humble pie

i'm happy to announce my gum tissue disease is under control.
finally.
but not without a large piece of humble pie for dessert.

the story:

god knows, i have sent many a dentist and family on dream vacations with the amount of work that's been done in my mouth.
so it should come as no surprise that i have had my share of novocaine, enough to numb keith richards five times over.

some people are experts in economics, or insects, or beers.
me?
novocaine!

having said all that, it was gum tissue disease and the strong arm of my gentle lady periodontist, dr. knumb, that finally broke me.

(from the blook) wondering out loud

when i was really young, i did most all of my wondering out loud, but something happened along the way, because it has become strictly an inside activity nowadays and frankly it's an indoor circus i've got goin' on in there.

personally, it’s just not the same.

palin twits assforwardy!

sarah, as only sarah can, reached into her folksy bag of tricks and twit yesterday of our country's president: "he's got most disconnected, backasswards plan ever imposed on the country we love".

why is it that when if comes to country love it's always this "we" group but when it comes to something smart, it's always what "they" say, you know, like, "they say you should brush your teeth after every meal". 
so logic would seem to indicate that it would be a good thing if the country "we" love is the same country as "they" love because "they" always have the smart answer.

well since logic is sort of elitist, i decided to write a poem about my favorite twit instead.
it goes something like this:

twitter twitter little star.

how assforwardy you think you are.

up above alaska so high,

oh twit, our spy, on russion sky!

i need more verses.
please help out!

things my mother never told me

1. the hair on the top of my head would some day reroute and come out my ears, nose and shoulders.
2. a similar process would occur to the muscles in my arms, shoulders and chest.
3. doing 25 pushups a day might require the full amount of time.
4. reading will require loud audio versions.
5. audio will require big font reading versions.
6. premature ejaculation will become very, very mature.
7. my pinky toes will die way before the rest of me.
8. a perfectly seared porterhouse will willingly be replaced by a glop of plain yogurt.
9. overcoming 1 thru 8 requires a daily dose of the right conversation, engaged with the right person and complimented by the right glass of wine.
10. number 9 actually works.

what did your mother not tell you?

guns and god, and does god know about this?

i saw another bumper sticker in what is becoming a more alarmingly ardent declaration of hijacked patriotism.
it went something like this:

give me my guns, god and money!

you can keep the "change"!

okay, it's a clever little play on the word, "change".

cute.

i get it.

but when did it become fashionable to join guns and god in patriotic nuptials?

i can't think of a more odd couple.

okay maybe glenn beck and keith olbermann, although i'm pretty sure keith's not gay—wait, what am i saying, that would make it really odd.

learning to write a great sentence

i think i mentioned a few posts ago that i started listening to an audio course i have from the teaching company on the art of building great sentences.

well so far i learned that a great sentence, one that becomes memorable, its words painting visions that cling to the imagination like goosegrass burrs knotting into the scraggly, hand-stripped haunches of a cairn terrier, a tightly wound canine curiosity chock-o-block with dormant dogged pursuit, who has exploded to ground and into a thicket of wild brush in frenzied chase of a giddy garden gobbling hare deliriously slowed by a belly full of early summer greens, or one that flows with accelerating energy like the cool water of a mountain stream that naturally routes the rush of an afternoon cloud burst, beginning in an inaudible trickle of clarity, cascading and tumbling and growing until ending in a roar of rolling gerund urgency, its cumulative subordinate clauses spilling into the welcoming basins of canyons and crags below where it concludes still and settled once again, this kind of sentence, is not easily written nor any resulting attempt guaranteed to delight the whimsy of a fickle set of eyes—something i guess i could have said in not so many words.

oh well, i can't wait to give it a try just the same.

get ready big apple! here comes the king of the courtlands!

i hate to ruin a good show tonight but lebron james will announce his team and it will be the new york knickerbockers.
the king of the courtlands will become king of the big apple.
how do i know?
my friend benny got a call from his "niece" patty in which she revealed that her partner jessie delivered a fedex package yesterday to kirby dolan's townhouse, who just so happens to be the illegitimate step daughter of evan dolan, who just so happens to be the unknown half brother of james dolan, who just so happens to be owner of the knicks.
as jessie told it, when kirby answered the door, she was wearing nothing but an extra large knick tee with the number 6 and the name "james" displayed in proud knickerbocker orange on blue.
apparently, one thing led to another, and jessie is no longer with patty as a result of the inappropriate hot girl on girl action she engaged in with kirby, but during the breakup call, jessie further confessed overhearing kirby talking to her sort of half step uncle james dolan, during which kirby promised to wear the jersey to a dolan family news conference scheduled for tonight at 9:15, which just so happens to be five minutes after king james announces his decision to be king of the big apple.

what!!!

it's as believable a story as any other you're gonna hear today!
so why not?
especially since it includes "inappropriate hot girl on girl action", which i thought was an angle no one else has looked into for this horrorshow.

andy and ghosts

andy said, i don't believe in ghosts but i have to be honest. they scare me just the same.
i said, i understand. it's like i don't like plain greek yogurt even if you add all the fruit in new jersey to it. so i eat it just plain.
then andy said, that makes no sense.
so i said, that's why i understand.

(from the files) 305. home alone - episode three

i’m home alone again for a week and i’m already falling prey to my manly ways.
not shaving or combing my hair.
baking all the stuff i like in one dish, like: ham, chicken, a-1 sauce, english muffin pieces, goat cheese, plums, and a beer to bring it together.
watching dumb shows like ultimate fighting and cops, with an occasional espn sportscenter thrown into the mix.
blasting gas like there's no tomorrow.
and other nutty things.

hopefully, i’ll be able to come to before the queen of kings returns or i could have a situation.
in the meantime, i’m livin’ crazy baby.
except for the parts when the pseudo step daughter is around.
and fortunately, she is most of the time, or this wild man might be pushin’ up daisies by now.

well that was a whole lot of nothing

so much for the nexus of humor and dreams of witty exchanges with winfrey and letterman.
(see preceding post)
okay so the lunch was decadent, the open window view upon cornelia street soothing, the indian fall day sparkling, the anticipation giddy, and all the red cones with not a film crew vehicle within a mile of the joint giddy killing.
five hundred copies of my script and the only person who wanted one was a guy dressed like davy crockett pushing a three wheeled shopping cart filled with recyclables and a three quarter emptied bottle of gin bouncing about on top.
i gave it to him for three dollars.
which he immediately rolled up and slipped down the barrel of his winchester—the three dollars that is.
as for the script, he ripped off the first page, folded it up real carefully, slid it into his shoe, placed the shoe back on, threw the remainder of the script into a trash can and walked away whistling that "king of the wild frontier" ditty of his.

so it's back to the drawing board as soon as i have a little chat with my brother about his sources.
all in all though, it was a great day, even though my vision of sugar plums were smashed like grapes..
my son and i caught up on world cup football, ranger hockey and our favorite curb your enthusiasm moments—you know, stuff that can be so much more important than the allure of fickle fame and fortune.

the nexus of bob's humor universe

look in the eastern sky, oh, i'd say about 12:43 PM today.
you might just see gray smoke billowing into the stratosphere.
it will be associated with my head exploding.

here's why ...