Diane was always busy.
She had her groceries delivered, a maid service to clean, and had pretty much else done for her.
She sent assistants out to go to art museums for her, and then report back how much they appreciated the art.
Her doctor said she needed more exercise, so assistants exercised and told her how much they felt the burn.
“That’s not how it works,” said her doctor. “You’re going to drive yourself to an early grave.”
Diane bought a plot at a cemetery and had an assistant buried in it.
And had another assistant give the eulogy.
It’s called Hollywood Accounting.
The studio makes a film, and then it finds ways to charge itself for various services to keep from making a profit.
Distribution, marketing, merchandising.
The movie ends up losing money for the studio.
The same studio that promised a share of the profits to the writers and the actors.
Not the director.
The director knows how the game is played.
They never fall for it.
“A share of the gross, not profit.”
These things always end up in the courts.
Of course, the studio gets charged for legal fees.
So they lose even more money.
Powering up in the Whole Foods parking lot.
They don’t charge for charging.
So, I got 5 miles worth of power for free.
It’s 5 miles to Whole Foods and back.
So, okay, so free trip to Whole Foods.
Never mind that I spent a hundred bucks on groceries there.
I’d planned on just getting Just Egg.
A hundred dollars worth of How’s that plan working out for you, idiot?
Not sure how much I’d have saved if I’d have gone to Kroger.
Probably more than what I saved in power in the car.
I’m not very smart, am I?
Betty White would have been 100 today.
Aside from her hawking a chunk of hypertension and diabetes called Snickers to the public, she did a lot of good, too.
And she was very kind to animals.
So, in honor of her birthday, I’ll give something to the local animal shelter.
No, not Tinny or Myst.
People who give up their animals to shelters because they needed a temporary companion while working from home and now they’re too busy to care for a pet are assholes. They’re fucking selfish assholes.
Kind of makes you wish someone had sneezed on their Doordash.
She inhaled. Ah, coffee.
The nice librarian had suggested the book “Moving On”.
How appropriate. Her husband was having an affair.
When she returned the book, she found out that her husband was having an affair with none other than the nice librarian.
Good thing she had also picked up “How to Get Rid of Your Old Life”. Lots of interesting advice in it, including a few radical methods of… getting rid of your old life.
Books are extraordinary, and so are libraries.
Nice librarians… not as much. At least, not this one! But even that problem had been solved.
Against the odds
I’ve always liked even numbers. Nice, friendly characters that give you no trouble and never conspire to trip you up.
Not like those nasty, argumentative odd numbers! You know the sort… Those sevens and nines that always mess up the bill or throw out the calculation. The ones that cause arguments at restaurants and make you look an idiot when adding up the groceries.
And don’t tell me fives are friendly – I’m pretty certain they have a hidden agenda!
Give me even numbers any day.
Although, I suppose eights can be tricky, and don’t get me started about those sixes!
“Even as Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed as these; even as the great geographer Lao Shen did not himself traverse the entirety of the Yellow River; and even as Kant confessed that Hume awakened him from dogmatic slumber; even so”— the storyteller began— “I cannot entertain everyone every time.”
After the ritual of abasement, he entered on the ritual of exaltation. “This is the most marvellous story ever told! Worlds created and destroyed! Heights of passion, depths of despair! Cunning twists and sudden revelations!”
Finally, he began the story itself. “It was a dark and stormy night.”
Even I have feelings.
I grant you that they may not be the sort of feelings generally considered desirable, or appropriate, but they are, nevertheless valid, and without them the world would be a poorer place.
It would indeed be boring if lust, anger, greed and avarice didn’t exist, and how could we ever measure the more ‘virtuous’ qualities and experience their benefits, without their opposites?
The dark side has its place, and without it, we would all be the lesser.
So, thank me, and celebrate my depravity; tell me I’m important, and I matter.
Because, even I have feelings!
What Could GO Possible Wrong 021
The first time-frame to make contact with the Duck Pint was Park’s. The aspect of the blue was thick, but he could just make out the ghostly appearance of a hand. He tried to turn toward the man in cuffs but time was way too slow to allow that move. Also, Park was having major trouble forming thoughts. He could summon up thing-ness, but act-ness danced outside his ability. “D-a-m-n ,“ he thought. Damn what he thought. Even as the best of time, in spite of some Hidden skill with a pint glass, Park was slow on the up take.
Sabrina grabbed Billbert by the collar of his jacket and pulled him back to the campfire. He hadn’t really paid attention to the route they had taken through the forest and didn’t know his way back out without Sabrina to guide him, so he submitted and went with her.
Adult men and women surrounded the fire while two evenly space lines, one of boys, the other girls faced each other.
Billbert and Sabrina joined their respective lines as an elderly woman said. “Alright. Boys take out your rings and place them on your partner’s finger.”
Billbert choked. “What the heck?”
There’s a button on my remote that for some reason keeps bringing up water polo.
I have no goddamned idea why it does.
It’s some sort of shortcut to a streaming guide that LG runs that defaults to a sports channel that’s always showing water polo.
The button is right next to my Home button, so I hit it by mistake a lot.
I tried to pry it out of the remote, but the remote’s not having any of that.
We are in an age where one button… ONE BUTTON brings you water polo.
And yet we can’t cure cancer
OCT 2 Speediest
OCT 9 Thumbs up
OCT 16 Remote
OCT 23 What happens next?
OCT 30 Quit, Mouse trap, Base, Facts, Martian, Stamp
NOV 6 Remastered
NOV 13 Heated
NOV 20 Record
NOV 27 The way we were, Waterproof, The wrong words, Bottomless pit, Safe, A word from an unknown language.
DEC 4 Irresistible
DEC 11 Anaheim
DEC 18 Speed
DEC 25 Put that thing down, Spycam, Pew, Evidence, March, Thick
Horror on the subway!
As far as the eye can see
Frozen in time
Riot of color
It’s a dirty job
Why should I?
Eaten by lions
The lion that ate cherries
Hard to believe
It’s a pattern
Crack of dawn
Some guy/girl I met online
Fog a mirror
Long live The King
You’ll never believe…
One two three…
You never know
All our tomorrows
In my hand
Cut and dried
Blood is thicker than water
Pots and pans
A monkey’s wedding
Now and then
No annual contract
Icing on the cake
Lost in translation
Once more, with passion!
Walking on eggshells
Yes. Yes there is.
Just as there is a Kitchen of Fame, a Dining Room of Fame, a Basement of Fame, and a Bedroom of fame.
There is a Bathroom of Fame.
And it’s absolutely disgusting in there.
You’d think they’d use the supplies in the Janitorial Closet of Fame to clean the Bathroom of Fame, but you’re not allowed to take anything out of there.
Nor are you allowed to actually use anything in the Bathroom of Fame.
So people just piss and crap in the hall.
For every locksmith that claims that his new lock is unpickable, there’s a lockpicker who is ready to prove the locksmith wrong.
Especially when the lock locks up something so valuable, the lockpicker can’t resist wanting it.
Some locksmiths, like Royce Smith, were so proud of their creations, they’d advertise a challenge.
He sent out a diagram of a lock so simple and a reward so great, every lockpicker and thief signed up for the challenge.
They met at the Main Street Hotel that Saturday, seeking their fortune.
Royce locked the doors and windows and set the hotel on fire.
Upon being discovered in the Baby Bear’s bed, Goldilocks got up and fled for her life.
“Alexa, lock the door,” said Papa Bear.
Goldilocks felt the lock engage as she grabbed at the door handle.
She took out her phone.
“I’m livestreaming this!” she yelled at the bears.
“That’s a nice phone there,” said Mama Bear. “Let’s just talk this through and work it out, okay?”
Baby Bear cried. “I just want my sheets washed. I think she peed the bed.”
Goldilocks and the bears came to a peaceful agreement, and she put the phone down.
Then, they ate her.
Cook County Illinois.
In the Thirties, they called it Crook County.
North Side, South Side, Lake Side.
They were all on the other side of the law.
Al and his furniture store.
Bugsy and his hotel.
Frank and his flower shop.
Frank, now that was a guy who got his hands dirty.
A notch on his gun for every man he killed.
Twenty-seven notches did him no good when they got the drop on him, filling the shop full of lead.
His flower shop provided the flowers for his funeral.
And Al had a special coffin made up.