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Rod & Sunny: Photo by Bob Gentry 8/5/1999

A Thought for Today

Think before you speak and consider before you promise.

 

I could say I'm looking forward to the weekend and a little rest, alas that wouldn't be true. I am looking forward to tomorrow and Sunday because it means I may get some of last weekend's work (that I postponed) out of the way. Whatever happened to weekends, anyway?

Here's some stuff that I hope will lighten your load today.

TWO GROANERS FROM KYLETTA

The irrepressible Kyletta Miller offers the following.

THE LION SLEEPS TONIGHT

A lion woke up one morning feeling really rowdy and mean. He went out and cornered a small monkey and roared, "Who is mightiest of all jungle animals?" The trembling monkey says, "You are, mighty lion!"

"Later, the lion confronts a wildebeest and fiercely bellows, "Who is the mightiest of all jungle animals?" The terrified wildebeest stammers, "Oh great lion, you are by far the mightiest animal in the jungle!"

On a roll now, the lion swaggers up to an elephant and roars, "Who is the mightiest of all jungle animals?" Fast as lightning, the elephant snatches up the lion with his trunk, slams him against a tree half a dozen times, making the lion feeling like it'd been run over by a safari wagon. The elephant then stomped on the lion until it looked like a corn tortilla and then ambled away.

The lion let out a moan of pain, lifted his head weakly and hollered after the elephant, "Geez, just because you don't know the answer, you don't have to get so pissed off!"

A HAIRY TALE

Jane got a new job as a stylist at a beauty salon. 

During her second week on the job, a bald woman walked into the salon and said to Jane, "I've tried everything to make my hair grow and nothing works. I'm a rich woman -- I'll give you $25,000 if you can make my hair look just like yours."

"No problem," said Jane, and quickly shaved her head.


YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

"A couple of clean ones Rod, not hilarious but clean....You can't have everything *smile* Love, Stargirl

HELP WANTED

A young man, fresh out of business school, answered a want ad for an accountant. A very nervous man who ran a three-man business interviewed him:

"I need someone with an accounting degree," the man said. "But mainly, I'm looking for someone to do my worrying for me."

"Excuse me?" the young accountant said.

"I worry about a lot of things," the man said. "But I don't want to have to worry about money. Your job will be to take all the money worries off my back."

"I see," the young accountant said. "And how much does the job pay?"

"I will start you at eighty-five thousand dollars a year."

"Eighty-five thousand dollars!" the young accountant exclaimed. "How can such a small business afford to pay me a sum like that?"

"That," the owner said, "is your first worry."

-----


NO WAY OUT

A telephone repairman was working late in a big office building and became lost. After a seemingly endless search, through the long and winding first floor, to find an exit, he spotted a woman at the end of a corridor.

"How do I get outside?" he asked.

"Dial 9," she replied.


OH MEN, OH WOMEN

Coral comments:

"Boy, is life REALLY this difficult for men! It made me laugh but there's enough in the subtext to make me want to cry...or maybe it was the three glasses of Grenache Shiraz that did that."

THE 5 QUESTIONS MOST FEARED BY MEN ARE

a) What are you thinking about?
b) Do you love me?
c) Do I look fat?
d) Do you think she is prettier than me?
e) What would you do if I died?

What makes these questions so difficult is that every one is
guaranteed to explode into a major argument if the man answers incorrectly (i.e., tells the truth). Therefore, as a public service, each question is analyzed below, along with possible responses.


Question # 1:What are you thinking about?

The proper answer to this, of course, is: "I'm sorry if I've been pensive, dear. I was just reflecting on what a warm, wonderful, thoughtful, caring, intelligent woman you are, and how lucky I am to have met you."

This response obviously bears no resemblance to the true answer, which most likely is one of the following:

f) Baseball.
g) Football.
h) How fat you are.
i) How much prettier she is than you.
j) How I would spend the insurance money if you died.

Perhaps the best response to this question was offered by Al Bundy, who once told Peg, "If I wanted you to know what I was thinking, I would be talking to you!"

Question # 2: Do you love me?

The proper response is: "YES!" or, if you feel a more detailed answer is in order, "Yes, dear."

Inappropriate responses include:

k) Oh Yeah, shit-loads.
l) Would it make you feel better if I said yes?
m) That depends on what you mean by love.
n) Does it matter?
o) Who, me?

Question # 3: Do I look fat?

The correct answer is an emphatic: "Of course not!"

Among the incorrect answers are:

p) Compared to what?
q) I wouldn't call you fat, but you're not exactly thin.
r) A little extra weight looks good on you.
s) I've seen fatter.
t) Could you repeat the question? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died.

Question # 4: Do you think she's prettier than me?

Once again, the proper response is an emphatic: "Of course not!"

Incorrect responses include:

a) Yes, but you have a better personality
b) Not prettier, but definitely thinner
c) Not as pretty as you when you were her age
d) Define pretty
e) Could you repeat the question? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died.

Question # 5:What would you do if I died?

A definite no-win question. (The real answer, of course, is "Buy a Corvette and a Boat"). No matter how you answer this, be prepared for at least an hour of follow-up questions, usually along the these lines:

WOMAN: Would you get married again?
MAN: Definitely not!
WOMAN: Why not, don't you like being married?
MAN: Of course I do.
WOMAN: Then why wouldn't you remarry?
MAN: Okay, I'd get married again.

WOMAN: You would? (with a hurtful look on her face)
MAN: (makes audible groan)

OMAN: Would you sleep with her in our bed?
AN: Where else would we sleep?

WOMAN: Would you put away my pictures, and replace them with pictures of her?
MAN: That would seem like the proper thing to do.

WOMAN: And would you let her use my golf clubs?
MAN: She can't use them; she's left-handed.

WOMAN:- - - silence - - -
MAN: Whoops!

OBLIGATORY BLONDE JOKE

This comes from Ellen & Molly.

ROUTE 66

A highway patrolman pulled alongside a speeding car on the freeway. Glancing at the driver, he was astounded to see a blonde behind the wheel knitting! 

Realizing that she was oblivious to his flashing lights and siren, the trooper cranked down his window, turned on his bullhorn and yelled, "PULL OVER!"

"NO," the blonde yelled back, "IT'S A SCARF!"

GOOD JOKE BY NOEL WYLIE

(As told on The Tonight Show) 

A man walks into a psychiatrist's office wrapped in Saran Wrap.

The doctor says, "I can clearly see your nuts."

WORDS TO LIVE BY

Carol reminded us of today's Shrubism.

"A tax cut is really one of the anecdotes to coming out of an economic illness."

- George W. Bush. 


(Yes, and the antidote to Foot In Mouth is to keep other one on ground)

FRIDAY FAVORITE

Finally the best of the week sent in by Nicky Williams who found this gem by reporter John Troup of News Group Newspapers Ltd.

ASHES TO ASHES 

13 October, 2000

Thieves smashed down the front door of Dee Blyth's London bungalow before stealing two TVs, a video recorder, a hi-fi and jewelry worth £2,000. The burglars thought they had hit the jackpot when they saw a pot of powder marked "Charlie" - slang for cocaine - on pet-lover Dee's mantelpiece. But they were unaware the pot was an urn and the "drugs" were really the remains of her beloved Newfoundland Charlie, who died in 1997.

A PC called to investigate the break-in at Chadwell Heath, Essex, fell about laughing when he saw the burglars had arranged the ashes in cocaine-style LINES. Police are not totally clueless since they plan to track the culprits using DNA samples from the bag of Charlie's ashes.


Tomorrow I'll be back with some Saturday Stuff. I hope you'll join me. If you can't sneak out a little early from work today, look busy. Sleep warm.

                       RM 10/19/2000 Previously unpublished

notable birthdays Herschel Bernardi o Dr. Joyce Brothers o Roosevelt Brown o Art Buchwald o Barrie Chase o Robert Craft o Snoop Doggy Dogg o Margaret Dumont o Michael Dunn o Arlene Francis o (Mother) Dolores Hart o Charles Ives o Wanda Jackson o Grandpa Jones o Bela Lugosi o Mickey Mantle o Brown Meggs o Donnii Minogue o Vigo Mortensen o Anna Neagle o Jerry Orbach o Tom Petty o Will Rogers, Jr. o Christopher Wren
Rod's random thoughts If we go to beds of boredom knowingly, we deserve the ill attention we receive.

I have no quarrel with your lovers, only admiration for their taste.

The business of autumn is letting it lie where it falls. The business of man is picking up himself and every member of his family who stumbles in the yellow leaves.

STILL LIFE WITH HORNE AND SILLS

Some butterflies
will not be choked
by chloroform or cyanide.
They soar beyond the corpsman's net,
the mason jar that lies in wait
to stop them from their jet stream ride.
Why bother living if life means
           that means to end is specimen?

He thought of Hairstreaks under glass
as he sat on a summer evening
               listening to Kodaly's
                        Summer Evening.
The day had been as gold as gold days get,
sun oozing butterscotch across the garden,
squirrels teaching alphabets to birds
                 too drunk on one another
                          to be listening.
Morning glories adjusting
                   to daylight savings time
and he as tender of a flora / fauna flock
that strayed to roadside
                            and the neighbor's yard.

The Summer Evening music nodding
                               to a close
he tried to choose between Madame Sills
and Madame Horne as 'doing dishes'
                                              atmosphere.
She of the soaring Verdi
or she of the rising up then dipping down
                                            Rossini.
A compromise. Bubbles for the washing
and the rinsing off, Jackie for the drying
                         and the stacking.

Some butterflies, he thought,
                                 are cunning,
knowing nylon net as well as silken
                                 spider webbing.
They tread nature's traps
and never end as threading.
A butterfly saying under its breath
give me a task and I will find
           a way to divert its completion

was his kind of moth, not likely caught,
skewered by White Coat Warden or Black Widow.

For too long
the awful sense of throwing time away
had colored every day and night
                              he moved through.
And while he wasted time
he knew that Time was wasting him,
                     enjoying the process.

He got up, went to work, came home,
                     cooked, gardened,
                          exercised always,
went to bed, got up, went to work . . .
Did all the etceteras he had done
                                for always.

In the mirror he saw no one different,
though daily he looked in looking glasses
            expecting someone different
                               to look back.
A Substantial Other, maybe,
though friends were that one luxury
that had always been beyond his means.

Madame Horne was dropping down the octave.
He dropped down on fours and gave Nobody
                                            twenty.

Men's muscles move better
when their souls are making
                               merry music,

having La Horne on one's side
produced a lighter sweat from push-ups.
He got up light-headed, almost dizzy,
replaced Rossini on the record player
                          with Stephen Foster,
allowing Marilyn to dream of Jeanie,
                                    beautifully,
expound on hairs vs. fuzz
and take him to the Camptown Races.

The summer was in every way
                        the way it should have been.
Fat bass cruised the surface of the lake,
minnows in their wake. Geese came back.
The bee balm bloomed, dead-headed,
                  budded, bloomed again.
Nasturtiums entertained the hummingbirds.
Beverly Sills presented The Pearl Fishers.
He traveled to The City twice to see it.
And every night for him alone,
she and Mr. Victor Herbert told about
         the sweetest mystery of you know what ?

Music was his discipline
far into June and then beyond.
He bought loudspeakers for the garden,
snap shot day lilies at their morning peak
while Sills / Horne lured and lullabyed
                    the birds and passing traffic.

He knew each butterfly that flew the yard
                       had only so much time
and yet their numbers seemed to grow.
Like lilies, those with deeper hues
always came out deeper in the season.
August brought the lovely ones, the stars.
Art is calling me, I want to be a Prima Donna . . .
Like Madame Sills and Madame Horne, in song,
                          they were so in silence.

Some words, like love and death and hope
                            and immortality and music
are overused by all of us. He stumbled,
                                         only once.
'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift
                                     to be free . . .

Horne ? Sills ? They had long ceased being
                                               separate.

                             - from "Intervals", 1986

© 1986, 1988, 2000 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Coordinated by Melinda Smith
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