ANOTHER MILESTONE (AGAIN?)

Holy Calendars, Batman.

Okay, everyone sit down and grab onto something solid and bolted to the floor, because this will probably shock you some, and I don’t want it on my conscience that I caused anyone bodily injury for failing to give appropriate advance warning.

On November 1st (that was yesterday here in FL), the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding blog celebrated (using the term loosely) it’s ONE MONTH ANNIVERSARY. 

Who says you can’t sustain a consistent level of absurdity and irrelevance in literature?

Of course, referring to my writing as “literature” is roughly equivalent to the ridiculous idea that Donald Trump could be elected President…oh…never mind.

Speaking of our President (and I would rather not in most cases), by show of hands, how many of you are as sick of hearing about “Crooked Hillary” as I am? Hey, President Breath, you ever hear of Raskolnikov, the main character in Fyodor Dostoyevski’s novel “Crime and Punishment”? You know, the guy that watched some asshole beating a dead horse, trying to get it to rise and become ambulatory again? You won, shithead, move on. Geez.

(I’m glad to have that off my chest.)

Anyway, to commemorate the WATRUK blog’s momentous anniversary, I splurged at Publix this morning, while there to do my weekly grocery shopping, and bought myself an apple fritter…nothing says “sugar rush” like a freshly-baked lump of flour, spices, apples and theremin. (FYI, a theremin is a musical instrument and as such has nothing whatsoever to do with apple fritters, unless you’re eating one and playing one at the same time.)

And now to take my usual “left turn without a signal” here at mid-post, according to “scientists” (anytime I see that word in an article of some sort, it always sounds vaguely accusatory to me), the universe should not exist (see link below), which totally explains why the Los Angeles Dodgers laid down and morphed into the Toledo Mud Ducks last night in losing to the Houston Astros in Game 7 of the 2017 World Serious. (Hey, it was serious to me, dammit.) And my congratulations to the Astros organization…nice job, guys. (I hope someone steals your fucking trophy.)

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/universe-exist-cern-universe-matter-bizarre-behaviour-scientists-a8015216.html

For those of you who were otherwise preoccupied last month and missed my timeless prose, here are some excerpts from October’s posts…

~From “CHILDHOOD MEMORIES”, posted on 10/24…

                “(Re the word “precocious”, “pre” from the Attic Greek “premature”, as in “WAY too soon, Sparky”, and “cocious”, which, as we all know, is a “Maghrebi dish of small steamed balls of crushed durum wheat semolina”, which when you read that description aloud sounds suspiciously like the instructions for applying roofing tar…”apply the roofing tar with your roller in short, smooth strokes.”

~From “WHAT CALIBER OF GUN IS RECOMMENDED FOR APARTMENT HUNTING?”, posted on 10/21…

                “When contacted for a response, Mr. Gunn said the following, “I would be happy to show Mr. Sussywoots the business end of my Glock 9 at his earliest convenience.” He then made an unkind remark, which will not be printed here, about the rather diminutive size of a certain part of Mr. Sussywoots’ male anatomy, and hung up.”

~From “MATTERS OF SMALL IMPORT”, posted on 10/18…

                “Item- Headline from the Internet…”Why do the Boy Scouts want to include girls?” and I thought to myself, boy, if I have to explain that to someone, this world is in deep, deep shit.”

~From “A MILESTONE…”, posted on 10/15…

                “With all due respect to camping enthusiasts, what a truly monumental waste of time…oh good, let’s haul our fat butts out to the woods, pitch an effin’ tent, which, I am quick to point out, has no hot/cold running anything, roll around in the poison ivy searching for the effin’ Frisbee, sleep on the effin’ ground and hope against hope that we will not be a) zipped inside a sleeping bag with a young coral snake or b) sprayed by an annoyed skunk that was in the midst of an amorous interlude that we interrupted or c) eaten by a effin’ bear. (The idea of exiting this life coming out of the south end of a northbound bear is just too depressing. And yes, bears do that in the woods.)”

~From “A MILESTONE…” again…

                “Excretions 10, Giants 6…”And there was a great rending sound, and an enormous abyss was opened, deep into the very bowels of the Earth, with fire and brimstone, and flames of great size leapt up at the walls of the abyss, a conflagration of immense heat, and a voice came out of the black, fiery night and said, YES, DODGERS UP ONE ZIP OVER THE CUBS, YES!”

~From “DREAM POLICE”, posted on 10/14…

                “They were an unlikely pair, one taller at about 5’11’, an athlete’s build, with short, short blond hair, sunglasses, uniform shirt tight over his biceps, of which he had three, a gun the size of a bazooka on his belt and an attitude the size of Montana in his eye.

His partner was shorter, much shorter, no more than 3 feet tall, with big blue eyes, huge ears, an off-purple floppy hat, lime green tunic that hung to the tops of his shoes, no gun, no badge…OMFG, it’s Detective Dopey, accompanied by his side-kick, Officer Hardgun.” 

Well, that should give you an idea.

So now I’m sending a telepathic message to you all…

“Read the Cap’n, read the Cap’n, read the Cap’n, make sure you read the Cap’n, go read the Cap’n right now, and don’t touch my apple fritter.”

Getting the message?

Love and “30 Days In The Hole”,

Cap’n John

PICTURE THIS…

As I am sure it has become readily obvious by now, I am a great fan and practitioner of the photographic arts…I am a very “visual” person (and I suspect I know part of the reason this is the case, but we’ll talk about that another time).

Photos are evocative, bringing out emotions and observations…here are some of mine. (Speaking of mine, that’s one of my fave shots I took when I was living in SoCal above.)

****************************************************************************************************

Is it possible for my nipples to get hard just looking at food? (By show of hands, how many of you were totally creeped out by that? And how many of you think it’s possible?)

Agnes was very concerned about Dr. Bloodworth’s experimental new program, where to effect a cure for ingrown toenails, a series of holes are drilled in the patient’s cranium, thus causing all the brain fluid to leak out. While the procedure didn’t exactly “cure” ingrown toenails, with your brain fluid leaking out on the floor, who cares about toenails?

Doesn’t it look like these two players looked up and had the same thought, all at the same time…”why is there a photographer on the field in front of second base taking pictures during a game”?

Many people believe that there exists a relationship between the size of a man’s hands and the length of his penis…I cannot validate that claim, but I will say this: if the above correlation were made between a man’s feet and his johnson, then this kid has to be hung like a Clydesdale. Geez.

“SMUG ALERT…SMUG ALERT…ALL SMUG REMOVAL OFFICERS WILL IMMEDIATELY REPORT TO 47TH ST. AND FIFTH AVE. FOR A REMOVAL OPERATION. PRELIMINARY WORD IS THAT A GIGANTIC AMOUNT OF “SMUG” WAS RELEASED AT THIS ADDRESS MOMENTS AGO. ONCE AGAIN, THIS IS A FULL SMUG ALERT. REPORT IMMEDIATELY. ENDS.”

…the film canister is probably a 55-gallon drum…

“Tommy, it’s time for bed.”

“SuperBot, go forward and destroy the Mom Unit.”

“Tommy, go to bed now, sweetie, or Mom will pull your gonads off and hang them from your earlobes like tiny earrings.”

“Night, Mom.”

“Night, dear.”

Rosie v1.2.5 (it took him five tries to get the nipples right, and yes, that is creepy).

Rosie v5.6.3 (below)…

…I think Rosie has a cute butt…

Gotta’ tell you, I was stumped on this one. Caption, anyone?

Oh I don’t even think so…

…fritters…

That’s all we time for today, boys and girls, but tune in again next week, when we’ll visit Robert “Stumpy” Bilstein, who will show us around his live piranha farm.

Ooohh, I’m so excited I think I peed myself a little.

Sorry.

Love and zoom lenses,

Cap’n John

                                                 !!!! GO DODGERS !!!!

AS AMERICAN AS BASEBALL, MOM, APPLE FRITTERS AND WHAT’S THE NAME OF THE GUY ON FIRST

Well, I am happy to report that the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding blog is, as of today, Sunday, October 8th, 2017 CE, officially one week old. 

Please commence with the obligatory celebration, with all the attendant frivolity thereto included.

Our next goal here at the WATRUK blog is to make it through another week, and then reassess our position.

By now most of you who have been following my adventures this past week have probably figured out that I am, in no particular order, a) a BIG baseball fan; b) a RABID Los Angeles Dodgers fan; c) a huge believer in both sex and apple fritters; d) a BIG baseball fan and e) all or none of the above.

If you chose “e”, you’re probably a Republican.

Now I am extremely fortunate with regards to apple fritters; as I mentioned in a recent post I am currently employed part-time as a “Front Service Clerk” for Publix Supermarkets here in jolly ol’ New Port Richey FL. (When anybody asks what I do, I tell them I’m in the Publix “CEO-in-training” program. I figure, with my skill set, experience, talents and all-around “good guyness”, I should be ready to ascend to the President’s office in about 35 years, making me a youthful 101 when I take over the reins. Hey, by then, 101 will the new 93.)

What I really am is a “bagger”, and of course, Captain and Master of the Kidding, thank you.

I’ve been there almost a year-and-a-half now, and so far no one has ventured an explanation as to what duties accrue to the “Rear Service Clerk”, assuming the existence of such a position, and I’m fairly sure I don’t want to know either way.

The bakery at Publix 420 in Chelsea Place (sounds like a fashionable London address) makes the absolute best apple fritters ever, in the history of flour. I never buy them, mind you…too much sugar, and sugar and I have a long-standing mutual animosity; when I eat too much, I get fat. It’s ugly.

And it’s a damn shame too, because I  apple fritters…even more than sex even. (Okay, about as much…well, maybe not quite as much but sort of close to as much. Practically but not quite as much. But close.)

So the apple fritters are covered, should a sudden craving for fried flour, sugar and apples overcome me someday as I stand, busily bagging our customer’s groceries, smiling, happy in my duties, content in my existence.

Rather gives you a strong desire to yark, doesn’t it?

Sex on the other hand (you’ll pardon the completely unintentional pun) is a little more difficult…let’s just say that in the two years I have been living here in bucolic NPR, I apparently haven’t overwhelmed the ladies with my charms, such as they are…if you can find the path that they’ve beaten to my door, you’ve got better eyes than I have. (Insert large sigh of resignation here.) I just hope it doesn’t have anything to do with my little peculiarity…(see pic below).

I was watching the opening game of the L.A. Dodgers/Arizona Diamondbacks Divisional Playoff series the other night, and during the game, they trained a camera on the VIP seating section, where Vin Scully, the legendary announcer for the Dodgers for almost 70 years before his retirement after last season, was sitting with his wife.

If you know anything about baseball, you know who Vin Scully is, and if you know who he is, you probably have a favorite story about him…here’s mine.

Back in ’07, the Dodgers brought up from the minors, during the September expansion of the roster, a player from Taiwan that they had signed several years earlier, to give him some “big league” experience during the waning days of the season.

His name was Chin-Lung Hu.

I was watching the Dodgers/Padres game the day this young man debuted, and as soon as he stepped into the batter’s box for his first at-bat in the majors, and Vin said his name, I was already on the floor, laughing my ass off…I could see what was coming, and what made it even funnier was that you could tell, by the smirk in his voice, that Vin could see it coming as well.

Sure enough, Chin-Lung takes a couple of pitches, gets a fastball he can handle and lines it into left field. As he stands on first base, and after the ball he hit had been thrown into the dugout for him to have as a keepsake, Vin did it.

I don’t remember his exact words, but it went something like this…in his famous Southern California drawl, the Vinster says, “Well, everyone, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but here goes…”

“Hu’s on first.”

By now I’m in tears and there’s a wet spot starting on the front of my shorts…then it got better.

Because all I could think, as I sat there, literally on the floor next to my chair where I have landed, laughing hysterically, is that if Vin says Chin-Lung is married, and his wife’s name is Betty Lou, I’ll need CPR before I’ll able to get my breath again.

Love and sacrifice bunts,

Cap’n John

Post Script…Cap’n John now has an email address (yeah, I know, 1990s technology, what can I say, I’m working on the other shit), so if you want to communicate directly with the Master of the Kidding, I can be reached now at capnjohn@krissongs.com. All good-looking women are encouraged to send messages, and pics if available.

Post Post Script…here, this will make your day a little better… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWZpOsUq_BI

Post Toasties…Dodgers up 2-0 on the hated Arizona DBacks as of last night’s win…next stop the NLCS.

!!!!GO DODGERS!!!!