I don’t know about you, but the last week of news seems to have taken over any and all discussions about everything. Today is as good a day as any for a break from the landslide of BS from the liberal left. I’ll supply all of you with some bawdy humor to take the edge off of all the whining and crying I’ve been hearing. Turmoil is exactly what this government needs but we mustn’t let them destroy our sense of humor along with it. If these jokes make anyone smile then that’s a “mission success” for me.
It was his wedding night, and the minister finished undressing in the bathroom and walked into the bedroom. He was surprised to see that his bride had already slipped between the sheets. “My dear,” he said, “I thought I would find you on your knees.” She said, “Well, honey, I can do it that way too, but it gives me the hiccoughs.”
👴🏻👴🏻👴🏻
Here’s one for my fellow retirees.
***
So, this elderly couple were sitting in their tiny flat on the lower east side when the husband said, “Doris, we’re in bad shape. Inflation has eaten up our Social Security check. The next one isn’t due until next week and we’ve got no money for food.” “Could I do anything to help?” she asked. “Yes” he said. “I hate to see you do this but it’s the only way. You’re going to have to go out and hustle your ass on the street.” “Me?” she said. “At the age of sixty-five?” “It’s the only way,” he said. Resigned to the situation, she went out into the hot night. She came staggering early the next morning. “How did you do?” asked the husband. “Here,” she said, “I’ve got four dollars and ten cents.” “Four dollars and ten cents,” he said. “Who gave you the ten cents?” “Everybody,” she exclaimed.
👮🏻♀️👮🏻♀️👮🏻♀️
And finally, one for our law enforcement community.
Today’s post won’t mean much to you Millennials, Gen Z-er’s, Gen X-er’s, or whatever other ridiculous name is currently in fashion. These days everyone is required to have a stupid label but let me assure you here and now that my generation was limited to only two labels/pronouns, Him and Her. I know that’s going to cause a great deal of confusion for all of you WOKE youngsters out there, but I don’t really care.
I’m now considered to be an “old fart” whose opinions and thoughts are out-of-date and no longer relevant to this modern era. I’m not the least bit insulted by that and actually take it as a true left-handed compliment of sorts. I hope all of you “labelled” individuals out there are able to read the following lists without voicing your unimportant opinions in a disrespectful manner. Be patient because it’s a long list but well worth reading.
Close your eyes… and go back…
Before the Internet, before semiautomatic pistols and crack and Mac-10’s.
Before SEGA or Super Nintendo or X-Box.
Way back…
Red light, Green light, 1 2 3.
Chocolate milk, lunch tickets, penny candy in a brown paper bag.
Hopscotch, butterscotch, double Dutch, jacks, kickball, and dodge ball.
Mother May I? Hula Hoops and Sunflower Seeds, jawbreakers, blow pops, Mary Janes.
The smell of the sun and lickin’ salty lips.
Wait, there’s more. . .
Catchin’ lightening bugs in a jar, playin slingshot and Red Rover.
When around the corner seemed far away, and going downtown seemed like going somewhere.
Climbing trees.
Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, sittin’ on the curb, jumpin’ down the steps,
Jumpin’ on the bed, pillow fights.
Being tickled to death, runnin’ till you were out of breath.
Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt.
Playing catch with your best friend for hours or until your arm hurt.
I’m not quite finished just yet…
Licking the beaters when your mother made a cake.
Getting hundreds of kisses from a gang of puppies.
When there were two types of sneakers for girls and boys (Keds & PF Flyers), and the only time you wore them at school, was for “gym.”
When nearly everyone’s mom was at home when the kids got there.
When you’d reach into a muddy gutter for a penny.
When girls neither dated nor kissed until late high school, if then.
When your mom wore nylons that came in two pieces.
When all of your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done, every day.
When you got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, for free. And you didn’t pay for air, and you got trading stamps to boot!
When any parent could discipline any kid, or feed him or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the kid, thought anything of it.
Don’t stop reading yet…
When it was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.
When they threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed…and did!
When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home.
Basically, we were in fear for our lives, but it wasn’t because of drive by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Disapproval of our parents and grandparents was a much bigger threat!
Decisions were made by going “eeny-meeny-miney-mo.”
“Race issue” meant arguing about who ran the fastest.
Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in “Monopoly.”
Catching the fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening.
Kids only received trophies when they actually won something.
Almost finished, be patient…
Being old, referred to anyone over 20.
The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties.
It was magic when dad would “remove” his thumb.
It was unbelievable that dodge ball wasn’t an Olympic event.
Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a slingshot.
Nobody was prettier than Mom.
It was a big deal to finally be tall enough to ride the “big people” rides at the amusement park.
Abilities were discovered because of a “double-dog-dare.”
Saturday morning cartoons weren’t 30-minute ads for action figures.
“Oly-oly-oxen-free” made perfect sense.
Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for giggles.
The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team.
War was just a card game.
Running naked through the sprinklers on a hot day.
Water balloons were the ultimate weapon.
Baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle.
The following story took place in Korea in 1967. It was my first Christmas without family and friends, and I really felt that loss. Here’s my story of how a few Korean friends helped make that Christmas one to remember . . .
I’ve talked a great deal over the years about my experiences while serving in the Army. As with any young man or woman serving outside of this country, being away from home and family during the Christmas season for the first time is difficult. In my case I was not only away from family, but I was also in a non-Christian country that seemed to be more than a little primitive to me.
Their religion was primarily Buddhist, and the Christmas holiday meant very little to them. They at times pretended to understand but that was motivated entirely by their desire to make money from visiting Americans.
At the time I was stationed in an area that was primarily populated by rice farmers living in small villages that dotted the northern countryside. There were no paved roads and most villages only had electric power for a few hours a day. For those of us from the United States it was like traveling back in time a hundred years.
I was living almost full time in a local village and actually had my laundry taken by a local woman to a nearby river where it was beaten on the rocks with wooden paddles and soap. That certainly took some getting used to for me. My Korean friends seemed totally befuddled by the entire Christmas holiday bro-ha-ha and sat politely and silently as I tried to explain it to them. They were interested in my stories of Christ and the Magi, but the virgin birth story had them all giggling a little.
Regardless I was determined to have a Christmas celebration so I asked a few of my them for their help in putting up a Christmas tree. They agreed to help but weren’t exactly sure what I was up to. As that project was progressing I had a little old mama-san ask me through an interpreter why would any sane person put a tree inside their home. I was hard pressed to answer her because I didn’t know the reason either. They continued to humor me as I explained other peculiarities that they couldn’t quite grasp.
A week or so later with two Korean friends I hiked up a nearby mountain near a small Buddhist temple to find a tree. We ended up dragging back the sorriest looking bush you could ever imagine, set it up in my hooch, and started to decorate it as best we could. There was a hand-made star on top of the tree (my doing) and a number of pieces of charcoal tied to the branches with twine (their doing). I never had that fully explained to me, but it was what they wanted to do. It had something to do with good luck or good pregnancy or something. Since we had no electricity, they suggested placing candles in and around the tree, but I nixed that idea immediately. The last thing I needed was to burn down my hooch and a portion of the village when my little, dry, and nasty looking tree, burst into flames.
I had some GI decorations I made from C-rations that looked stupid as hell, but the villagers loved it. Later we ate most of the decorations and drank a bottle of really cheap brandy that I’d brought along for the occasion. I presented them each with a small gift of candy and got a little kiss on the cheek from everyone.
It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t sophisticated, but it was heartfelt. Looking back over the years it remains one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. It also helped endear me to the villagers and them to me. The following Christmas they even arrived with a strange collection of ornaments for my tree and couldn’t wait to once again hear my holiday stories.
With only a few days left until Christmas, I thought a little humor was needed to help calm the nerves of all you Christmas elves. I’m sure you’re exhausted from all the shopping, wrapping, and dealing with the excitement of your children and family. Today’s post is just a little humor to lighten the mood. I’ll be saving my best Christmas post for Christmas eve.
This is a corny joke but what the hell, it’s Christmas:
Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates. “In honor of this holy season,” Saint Peter said, “You must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven.” The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. This represents a Christmas candle, he said. Saint Peter then directed him through the pearly gates. The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them lightly and said, “These are Christman Bells”. Saint Peter immediately passed him through the pearly gates. The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a women’s red thong. St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, “And just what do those symbolize?” The man replied, “They’re Carols”.
Nothing like a sweet Christmaskiss.
🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻
Christmas History Tidbit
In the sixteenth century, many Christians gave up the Catholic faith and became Protestants. The rejection of Christmas rituals was done to allegedly to keep the religion pure. Later, in 1647, a law was passed by Parliament abolishing Christmas altogether. Some believers felt that the law went much too far. There were times when entire congregations were arrested for celebrating Christmas.
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JUST GOES TO SHOW THAT YOUR CHRISTMAS COULD BE WORSE
Years ago, I posted this story more as therapy for myself than anything else. I suffer from a nagging case of Santa PTSB that recurs every December. I want it known that I was fighting terrorism as a six-year-old long before it became fashionable. Reposting this story helps me with my Santa issues like nothing else can. That big fat and jolly SOB is known in our house as Osama Bin Santa and the only difference between him and other terrorists is that Santa loves victimizing young children. With that in mind here’s my scary and terrifying Christmas story straight from 1955.
🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻
As a young child my parents made every attempt to make Christmas memorable for my sister and me. My sister was very young and I was just turning 6 years old. I still firmly believed all the stories about Santa’s elves and all the other good stuff. In the back of my young mind there was a seed of skepticism secretly growing. I was beginning to have serious doubts about Santa and my parents as well. A lot of what I was being told by my trusted family members wasn’t what I was hearing on the street (school yard). My friends had almost convinced me that the whole Santa thing was just BS and that the adults were actually the real gift givers. I think it was at that early age that my trust issues with authority figures first began.
My parents began to suspect I was wavering, and their propaganda was now falling on deaf ears. In a conspiracy involving my mother, her sister, my grandparents, and my dad it was decided that drastic action was immediately necessary to convince me that Santa was the real deal. I’d been acting out a lot and being a little disrespectful to my elders, so it was time for Santa to step in and straighten me out once and for all.
It was the week before Christmas and we were visiting my grandparents. I was being a huge pain in the ass as usual like a lot of six-year-olds can be at that time of the year. It was just after dark and I was walking through the house down a narrow hallway towards the kitchen. It was dark outside and as I passed the window I glanced over and almost had a six-year-old heart attack. There was Santa looking back at me and smiling a frightening smile. My blood turned cold and I got the hell out of there screaming all the way upstairs to hide under the bed. My parents let me know in no uncertain terms that Santa was out looking for those children who were being good and keeping an eye on those that weren’t. I was on the latter list, of course.
For the next few days, I was a complete angel but after dark I was still nervous about looking out the windows. Santa the terrorist had accomplished his mission. I saw him again on two or three other occasions over the next two Christmases, once at our house, and again in the coal cellar at my grandparents’ home. Unfortunately, I’d already consulted with my knowledgeable friends at the playground, and I was officially a nonbeliever by then. I went along with the charade for as long as possible since my parents were the ones giving me the gifts. They finally had a meeting and decided I was just playing them for extra toys and my game was over.
Skip ahead 25 yearsasI was digging through an old trunk in my aunt’s bedroom. I discovered where Santa had been hiding for all those many years. His retirement consisted of being tucked under a pile of sheets and pillowcases in that old trunk. My aunt laughed until she cried when I confronted her with the Santa costume. We relived a very special and scary Christmas memory and thoroughly enjoyed the special moment.
🎄🎄🎄
What I never told her, or my parents was the lingering collateral damage from their well-meaning actions. To this day during the Christmas season, I’m careful in dark rooms and hallways and try never to look out the windows, NEVER! In the malls and stores where Santa is holding court, I stay the hell away. That guy still scares the bejesus out of me. Terrorism is no joke.
My Christmas season has taken a nasty turn earlier than usual. Just when I thought it was going to be a fun holiday, I made the mistake of visiting a Walmart. Now I’m finally able to return to my man-cave after being bedridden for three days. Even the painkillers weren’t able to improve my attitude. I was smiling a lot, but it was entirely because of the drugs, not the Christmas season. I won’t get into the specifics of the injury but just let it be said that Walmart restrooms can be hazardous to your health if you’re not careful. LOL.
I’ll be spending most of the remainder of the Christmas season stumbling around with a cane being my ever-so-pleasant self with the help of a few cannabis gummies and additional painkillers. Unfortunately, I was also forced to miss out on all of the decorating being done in the house (I’m so sad!). My better-half turned into an insane Christmas elf and if you were stupid enough to stand anywhere near her you would have been immediately covered with tinsel, garlands and small twinkling lights. My Christmas in hell fantasy had finally come to life. LOL again.
I searched and found another Christmasy cartoon that made me smile a little. I hope it properly conveys my Christmas message in a manner you can all appreciate.
With the holidays looming on the horizon, I thought some moderately dirty jokes might put a smile on your face. So, SMILE!
Q. What’s the difference between Mad Cow disease and PMS? A. Nothing.
😜😜😜
A man is sitting on a train across from a busty blonde wearing a tiny miniskirt. Despite his efforts, he is unable to stop staring at the top of your thighs. To his delight, he realizes she has no underwear. The blonde realizes he is staring and inquires, “Are you looking at my pussy?” “Yes, I’m sorry,” replies the man and promises to avert his eyes. “It’s quite all right,” replies the woman. “It’s very talented. Watch this, I’ll make you blow a kiss to you.” Sure enough the pussy blows him a kiss.” The man, who is completely absorbed, inquires what else the wonder pussy can do. “I can also make it wink,” says the woman. The man stares in amazement as the pussy cutely winks at him. “Come and sit next to me,” suggests the woman, patting the seat. As the man moves over, the woman quietly asks, “Would you like to stick a couple of fingers in it?” “Good God!” says the man. Can it whistle too?
😛😛😛
A man walks into a sex shop and tells the woman behind the counter he’s looking for a blowup doll. The woman asks, “Would you like a Christian or a Muslim doll?” Confused the man says, “What’s the difference?” “Well,” replied the woman, “the Muslim doll blows itself up!”
🐸🐸🐸
Q. What’s green, slimy and smells like Ms. Piggy? A. Kermit’s finger.
😁😁😁
The kid comes home from school and says, “Mom, I’ve got a problem.” She says, “Tell me.” He tells her that the boys at school are using two words he doesn’t understand. She asks him what they are. He says, “Well, pussy and bitch.” She says, “Oh, that’s no big deal. Pussy is a cat like our little Mittens and bitch is a female dog like our Sandy.” He thanks her and goes to visit his dad in the workshop in the basement. He says to his dad, “Dad, the boys at school are using words I don’t know, and I asked mom, and I don’t think she told me their exact meanings.” Dad says, “I told you never to go to mom for these kinds of matters, she can’t handle them. “What are the words, son?” He tells him, “Pussy and Bitch.” Dad says, OK, and pulls a Playboy down from the bookshelf. He takes a marker and circles the pubic area of the centerfold and says, “Everything inside the circle is Pussy.” “Okay, Dad,” so what’s a Bitch?” Dad quickly said, “Everything outside that circle.”
🤩🤩🤩
Q. What’s the difference between a bitch and a whore? A. A whore blows everybody at the party, and a bitch blows everyone at the party except for you.
I’m talking about hide and seek at dusk, sitting on the porch. Hot bread and butter, eating a super-duper sandwich (Dagwood), Red light, Green light, 123.
Chocolate milk, lunch tickets, any candy in a brown paper bag. Hopscotch, butterscotch, Double-Dutch, jacks, kickball and dodgeball. Mother, May I? Hula Hoops, sunflower seeds, jawbreakers, blow pops, Mary Janes, and running through the sprinklers. The smell of the sun and licking salty lips.
Wait . . .
Watching lightning bugs in a jar, playing slingshot and Red Rover. When around the corner seemed far away, and going downtown seemed like going somewhere.
Bedtime, climbing trees. 1 million mosquito bites and sticky fingers. Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, sitting on the curb, jumping down the steps, jumping on the bed, and pillow fights.
Being tickled to death, running until you are out of breath. Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt. Being tired from playing . . . Remember that?
I’m not finished yet . . .
What about the girl that had the big bubbly handwriting? Licking the beater when your mother made cake. When there were two types of sneakers for boys and girls (Keds and PF Flyers), and the only time you wore them at school was for “gym”.
When nobody owned a purebred dog. When the quarter was a decent allowance, and another quarter a huge bonus. When you’d reach into a muddy gutter for a penny. When girls neither dated or kissed until late high school, if then. When your mom wore nylons that came in two pieces.
When you got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, for free. And you didn’t pay for air, and you got trading stamps to boot! When laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the boxes.
When any parent could discipline any kid, or feed him or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the kid, thought anything of it. When it was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.
Not done yet . . .
When all of your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done, every day. When they threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed… And did! When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home. Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a slingshot. When nearly everyone’s Mom was at home when the kids got there.
Basically, we were in fear for our lives but it wasn’t because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Disapproval of our parents and grandparents was a much bigger threat!
Decisions were made by going “eeny-meanie-miney-mo”. Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, “do over!” Race issue meant arguing about who ran the fastest. Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in Monopoly.
Catching fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening. It wasn’t odd to have two or three “best friends”. Being old, referred to anyone over 20. The net on a tennis court was the perfect height to play volleyball and rules didn’t matter. It was unbelievable that dodgeball wasn’t an Olympic event.
The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties. It was magic when Dad would remove his thumb. Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better.
It’s been a number of months since I last visited my blog and I’m not entirely sure why. I suppose it’a mixture of laziness, apathy, and the holiday season that’s approaching. I’ve been wanting to write but I don’t want it to be more of the same crap you’re hearing and seeing in other media. The “Trump is the devil.” nonsense is wearing really thin except for a few braindead liberals and diehard Democrats.
There’s a time and place for everything but the last thing we need is the steady media drumbeat of negativety during the holidays. I’d much rather enjoy the season with my family than listening to an incredibly biased media laying hours and hours of propaganda and fake news on me. Life is just too goddamn short.
We’ve had out first two snow falls for 2017 and the snowblower came through as expected. I’m going to try very hard not to do the normal fall-on-my-ass routine that seems to occur every year. I’ll be staying in the house as much as possible, I’ll keep nice and warm, and have a drink or two to calm my nerves. Before I know it Spring will be here once again.
So Merry Christmas to family and friends and anyone bored enough to read this blog.
I’ve also been giving some serious thought to my New Year’s resolutions for 2018. I’ll do a quick review of 2017 just after Christmas and then post 2018’s early in January.
Stay healthy . . . Stay warm . . . Kiss the kids and grandkids . . . Hug your pets.
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