A Freeloader Among Us

I'm coming to grips with the fact that at 7½ years of age, Morty is probably not going to go out and get a job.

I spent most of the afternoon trying to teach him to wag his tail back and forth in a tick-tock pendulum fashion. If he'd only cooperate, I'd be very happy. He'd get some exercise. We'd save money on all of the Kit Kat Clocks. He'd contribute to the household, and we'd know what time it is, maybe, or, at least, we could time an egg.

I think this is a fine idea, however I'm not sure I like his options for the current temperature and rainfall gauge.


'It's a Gas!' (Disco Version)

Continued From: "It's a Gas!"

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'It's a Gas!'

100 Things About
Me #156
Within my circle of friends, the only 1960s musical event to surpass Beatlemania was the insertion of a plastic-coated paper phonograph record among the pages of "MAD" magazine. The vocal artistry of one Alfred E. Neuman and the Furshlugginer Five augmented the swinging "It's a Gas," which I believe was a Wagner "Der Fliegende Holländer" aria originally or a Teamsters' meal break.

We loved this tune so much that years later it would be incorporated into our English class project, "The Birth of a Tragic Flaw," which was an original 8mm movie mash-up of William Shakespeare's "Macbeth" and D.W. Griffith's "The Birth of a Nation." We got an "A" and wet eyes all around.

The same day, we graduated from high school. It's a pass.

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Tofurky or Not Tofurky?

Too funky.

100 Things About
Me #155
Whenever I have a medical check-up scheduled and I must fast for 12 hours in advance, Tofurky is what I won't be eating that day. I always won't be eating Tofurky while fasting, because I'd hate to skip a favorite meal instead.

I can't bring myself to eat Tofurky under any circumstances -- not during a fast, a medium, or a slow.

I'm afraid it would send me to a doctor.

Full of irony, ain't I?

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Cat Toon Carnival

Morty at the Movies with Morty the CatOur boy's chosen to share three "Simon's Cat" adventures by Simon Tofield.

I recommend the cartoons, too, but I suspect Morty mocks me.

"Simon's Cat: Let Me In!"
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"Simon's Cat: Cat Man Do"
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"Simon's Cat: TV Dinner"
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What the Heck Was I Thinking?

Actual Messages I Wrote, Forgot, Then Found While Cleaning Out My Email Folders


Donna tells me the Von Trapp Family spawn are appearing with the symphony Sunday. We might go. I do a rockin' "Edelweiss" and I still can pass for Gretl.


Sorry I missed your call. I highly recommend biting the bullet and getting a color television. You won't regret it.


Last year's catnip frog and mouse have been suitably spittled.

I peeked and I'm getting episodes of "The Betty White Show" from the dollar store. These were made circa 1955 B.A.L. (Before Allen Ludden). (Loved his cough drops, by the way.)

If I get any money, I'll spend it at Cot Shack.



My Recent Confessions and Observations on Twitter, Where Everything Must Be Said in 140 Characters or Less

Headline: "Man charged with drunk driving in wheelchair." He was also cited for hit and roll -- and failure to pass his emissions test.

I went to my high school reunion. Everyone was wildly happy to see me. They owed me noogies. ... Mousse, please.

Someone's sending me weird email from GIRLS AND CORPSES magazine. Hey, if I were into that, I'd go to the Playboy Mansion.

I have no interest in seeing Heath Ledger as The Joker. I lived through Tammy Faye Bakker.

Lost footage found in Argentina. For the first time in 80 years, classic METROPOLIS is complete. Now, cross your fingers for MAKE MINE MINK.

My wife is a bit of a social climber. I am no longer allowed Fruit of the Loom. No, I have to wear what Harry and David wear.

Torrential weather. Usually the roof leaks in drips. Today, a stream! If it would only leak Dairy Queen soft serve, we wouldn't be so upset.

My wife made me get up off of the couch and go to the Farmers Market. They threw me onto a potato truck.

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Batman Fatman Stuntman

It's been years since Batman showed himself in public, but what has happened to our most sartorially savvy savior?

Seeing this picture, my first impression was he's let himself go. He got tubby, doing donuts in the Batmobile.

Maybe he's working weekends as an Elvis impersonator?

Stranger things have happened to Batman. That penguin guy with the monocle, the top hat, and the creepy cigarette holder? Come on, he's not everyday at Wal-Mart. Easter, yes, but not everyday.

Closer inspection of the cereal box says "stunt figure."

Gasp! The Caped Crusader has stunted his growth!

Smokin' in the Bats Room?

And what does this revelation say about Cheerios?

"Hey, kids! Eat up! Grow big and strong! Two heads high!"


On the other hand, in fairness, maybe too much jumping off tall buildings shortens one's stance?

Gee, I hope so.


Bye Bye Birdy

Continued From: "Meanwhile..."

I managed to snap this glimpse of our baby tenant on the fly.

He was flitting from branch to branch, testing takeoffs and landings, while Mama squawked at me. I'm adamant about no cooking in the room. Rules are rules.

Sadly, I haven't seen either neighbor for several days. Their birdhouse on our porch appears abandoned.

Stiffed on rent again.


Hey, Baby

Dig this photograph. Morty at his coolest.

I've only recently noticed Morty has grown whiskers on the same level as his eyes. I didn't know what to think of those and then it hit me.




Cat photos: Where's Morty?
We have new tenants. Our happy abode has become a duplex. Moving into the old single room bungalow, resting on the railing of the downstairs porch, is a mama bird and her baby.

Mama is ever vigilant to the point she's got that evil eye out for me -- and the cable guy, due between 2 and 6 p.m.

She peeped her peeps adore Animal Planet HD -- and what's all this poop about 1080peep?

The quintessential nosy neighbor, she is, Mrs. Kravitz.

Morty's miffed we wouldn't let him be Mr. Furley, landlord.


Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Go Back in the Water...

You know, kids, when I'm not busy bulking up, I'm exercising immaculate dental hygiene.

That's why I'm off to floss with an eel.


Shark Yourself via About.com Web Humor


My Deepest, Heartfelt Apologies

This afternoon, I visited the supermarket to pick up a few items. I parked my shopping cart in Produce, while administering the peaches selection process at a nearby counter. The bananas looked good, too.

I proceeded on my way, browsing casually. It was, perhaps, 10 minutes later over on aisle #8, when I looked down to surprise and befuddlement. I had unknowingly hijacked the wrong cart back at the mangoes and taken someone's toilet paper for a stroll.

I am so sorry, stranger. If it is any consolation, I left your wipe in the Cereal Department, next to some good roughage.


It's Intermission Time!

Periodically, in the selfless spirit of fairness and public service, I like to take a break from the postings and give all of the other blogs a chance to catch up.

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100 Things About Me #154

Women have their issues. Now, my Mrs. Butterworth bottle isn't talking to me.

100 Things: #1 | Previous | Next


Plan B

Usually around here, we're asking, "Where's Morty?"

That cat's right by my chair, snoozing, thank you very much. There's no need to go hunting.

So, then, "Where the Hell Is Matt?"

Can't see the video? Try at Vimeo.



My Recent Confessions and Observations on Twitter, Where Everything Must Be Said in 140 Characters or Less

I've been watching '40s movies. I like them, except I catch myself calling everyone "Darling." I may be engaged to our exterminator...

My paycheck has arrived. Or, as it's known at our house, The Mail of Tears.

I opened my pay envelope and heard crickets.

I read women are attracted to men w/a sense of humor. Not my wife. She's consumed by a sense of hummus. We have a pita bread subscription...

Welcoming my 3000th Follower on Twitter, although 2943 of them are phantasms.

Douglas Adams: "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." - Nuh uh, not me. I turn up the TV.

Just in: "Weather Channel Is Sold to NBC," which means they'll only be reporting the weather for the blue states.

Ah, July 4th, when contemporary Americans celebrate their freedom to vote away more of that freedom this November. Congratulations, idiots!

Just in: "Christie Brinkley divorce trial continues with shocking testimony." Do NOT ask me about my wearing sunglasses and the floppy hat.

Watermelon has Viagra-like benefits. If you experience an erection lasting more than 4 hours, contact your farmhand.

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'Techno Kittens'

As I embark on my journey to sidestep "Journey to the Center of the Earth," Morty has saved the day, sending over another video to post, so I can get a good start on the grand trek of cinematic circumvention.

I've done massive geological research and I know the center of the Earth is indeed filled with screaming B-list actors, improbable situations, overbearing loud noises, and fast cutting. I don't need to see a movie of the same.

About the Clip

Morty at the Movies with Morty the Cat
I've been film schooling my kitty in the finer nuances of the musical genre. Most recently, we watched "I Dood It" (1943), Vincente Minnelli's reworking of Buster Keaton's superior "Spite Marriage" (1929). Morty was appreciative of the slapstick comedy of Red Skelton and the tappy toes of Eleanor Powell, but he thought they should be furrier.

And not "old school," he said.

You know, I just hate it when the young meow that term to me.

I bristled and replied, "Well, Mr. Smarty Panther," what do you have to show me?"

That's when he unveiled this elaborate production number, starring the Malric Kittens, reminiscent of "A Chorus Line," I must say.

Bob Fosse would be in heaven.

Can't see the kittens? Try here.


'The Incredible Head-Cleaning Cat Hat'

Previously, I shared photos of my favorite cat hat. Morty likes being head gear, which allows him to get in touch with his inner chapeau.

Plus, he keeps me from looking silly in a beret.

It is fitting, therefore, that Morty shares his newest film find, "The Incredible Head-Cleaning Cat Hat." I don't believe Ray Milland is in it.

Morty at the Movies with Morty the CatWe haven't tried this particular stunt at home, mostly because I wash my hair with dog shampoo.

I fight dandRUFF! Then, I roll around in the grass for conditioning.

"Gee, your hair smells turf!"

Can't see the video? Try here.


What the Heck Was I Thinking?

Actual Messages I Wrote, Forgot, Then Found While Cleaning Out My Email Folders


I am going to contact my Hollywood friends and get you that Oscar for Best Stomach, Innie.


I'll compromise. I'll buy you a Blu-ray Twinkie.

Mmmm, hi-def goo!


The film was released in late 1951. I was a fetus -- and as I always complain about movie projection being too dim, I'm confident "The Day the Earth Stood Still" was really dark to me, if I went to the theatre then. Sound muffled...

Related: "100 Things About Me #140: Gort & Ted's Excellent Adventure?"


Giving Barbie 'The Birds'

Coming for Christmas, this commemorative Barbie doll in the image of 'Tippi' Hedren, as seen in Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds."

Well, as long as it leaves the li'l ones with happy thoughts.

Bat trees not included.*

Related: "What Do You Get for the Person Who Has Everything?"

*Okay, I know bats are not birds, but good taste says it's either that comment or mention her lap pecker -- from Mattel!


Sips Saps

Continued From: "Pig Gulp"

What has happened to reasonable food servings at the movies?

I can tell you. I worked in theatres for decades and I know. Captive audiences are desperate to be taken advantage of by exhibitors reaping gargantuan profits. The bigger the item, the more they can extort.

And fools pay for the stomach punches again and again and again, which means prices are going up soon.

When the spirit is willing, the Sprite is six bucks.

Folks complain about oil profits, but nothing could possibly approach the lube you get at flick snack bars.

When I was 12, selling refreshments at the Emory Theatre in Atlanta, we offered drinks in two sizes.

The small cup topped at seven ounces. That's less than a juice glass. We were instructed to pack the paper glasses with ice before adding the cola. A customer would have been lucky to yield four ounces of liquid. The price was a dime.

The large cup held 12 ounces. That's how much is in a canned soda. With the pre-pour ice added, a patron would face seven ounces of thirst-quenching fluid, maybe. The cost, a whopping 15 cents, but that amount did include the sales tax.

I can't begin to tell you how many times I had customers balk at such an exorbitant charge. After all, Coca-Cola sold elsewhere for a nickel in a bottle.

Management insisted I promote the large-size drinks to the parched. Their common response was, "How big is large?"

I'd hold up the 12-ounce cup and there would often be an audible gasp, followed by, "I couldn't possibly drink all of that!"

It is unbelievable how beverages have increased during my experience by more than nine times in volume. If I indulged today, I'd have to hire a band of back-up bladders to get through a show.

I go to see the movie, not build a recurring, intimate relationship with a nastily-maintained mens room.

The last time I checked a candy counter, drink containers had expanded to 64 ounces. By now, they may be an above-ground pool.

You know it's bad when the Kiddie Kup comes with inflatable arm floats.



Cat photos: Where's Morty?
America's most patriotic cat watched the annual July 4th fireworks extravaganza, broadcast live from Boston Harbor, his tail batoning to Sousa.

Then, we all settled in for the night's DVD, which, as pure luck would have it, was the Declaration of Independence episode of HBO's "John Adams" series. The impact was stunning, although Morty curled on my lap and snoozed.

He's seven. He avoids anything too much like homework.


Pig Gulp

At the movie theatre, I was handed a, get this, "small drink."


I've seen beakers that size with Dr. Frankenstein's slightly-dinged heads in them.

My wife and I both drank on that sucker and there was enough left over to pour outside and end the two-year Georgia drought.

Grateful tots tipped Donna a beach ball.

If I tried to consume a "small drink" by myself, it would take two hands, bib, and blotting nanny.

I'd be lucky not to put my eyes out with the oar straw.

Excessive liquids are why I always watch movies from the back row. I'm uphill in case of mass Pepsi spillage. Flood insurance.

I have nightmares, watching a family of four float by in a popcorn tub during "Beverly Hills Chihauhau."

Their pups rafting atop a Goobers box.

It's no wonder movies sound so loud. We have to be able to hear over the soda surf.

I don't schedule moviegoing for personal convenience. I schedule for the next Dr. Pepper low tide.

Continued, It's a Large...



My Recent Confessions and Observations on Twitter, Where Everything Must Be Said in 140 Characters or Less

27 years of marriage is a sacrifice. All this chewing with my mouth closed takes its toll.

Just in: "Son attacks mom with sausage." Shocking! I can't imagine. OK, once I threatened Mom with a pudding. Took her Nilla Wafers hostage.

I don't much care for my blood pressure doctor at The Temple of Doom and Clinic. He reaches into my chest and pushes on my heart. Annoying.

I had a fine check-up. The doctor said, "Good boy!" & scratched me behind the ears. And my new flea collar has no bell! Woof! Where's Timmy?

The International House of Pancakes is building in our tiny Georgia town. That means flapjacks from faraway lands! Like Alabama and Memphis!

I have discovered the secret to eternal youth. I sleep in a big Debbie Meyer Green Bag.

Somewhere. Somewhere in the world at this very moment, George Clooney's head is a-bobbing. It's what he does. He is The Human Bobblehead.

Don't know why, but I'm not big on summer soups. Today, I'm having the Seersucker Zucchini with the Spray Tan Fusilli & Baby Pool Navy Bean.

I'm off to see WALL-E. This boy is built rugged for enchantment.

My hand puppets are going, too. Hush now, Danny and Glover.

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'Kung Fu@%*&# Panda!'

To paraphrase Rodney Dangerfield, "After visiting the Regal Mall of Georgia Stadium 20 & IMAX Theatre, I was in bad shape. Bad shape. But I'm better now."

We had boycotted the Mall of Georgia for 18 months, since our previous, infuriatingly poor IMAX Experience.

We returned to be smacked down with an all-new, horrible IMAX Experience, including no sound, IMAX cancellation, teensy substitute cinema, lax projection, SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAMING babies, NOISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSY employees, and a ruined movie and Sunday outing.

We shall never return. No more.

The price for a DVD or Blu-ray of "Kung Fu Panda," or any motion picture, is less than a pair of matinee tickets to this theatre. We can easily wait the few months to obtain pristine copies, rather than endure having our film viewing interrupted by the indignities of such an incompetent, arrogant, and debilitating operation.

I have deleted 10 paragraphs of my winsome, homespun rage devoted to this contemptible showplace, which I had typed in a cathartic frenzy a few moments ago. I won't trouble you with them, but if you need several dozen fresh synonyms for poop and holes, let me know. They are, indeed, regal.
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