AS I WAS SAYING…

There’s an old saying we’ve all heard…“no good deed goes unpunished”…

These days, in this time of social upheaval, discontent and unrest, when folks are outraged and angry over such issues as the Covid-19 pandemic that is ravaging the world and our country, of the renewed awakening to systemic racism and the gross mistreatment of African Americans over the years in America, of the sickening and callous jailing of immigrants at our borders, of rancorous debate over the symbols and statuary of the Confederacy, of the demise of Strawberry Cheese Danish Pop Tarts (yes, they have been discontinued), I have come to a point where I pretty much don’t like anybody. Good deeds? Yeah, fuck you, I gave at the office.

But stories about good deeds are typically uplifting, so I have one to tell you. (FYI, I’m told that push-up bras are uplifting as well, although I have no personal experience with them, having never worn one…okay, there was that one time, but alcohol and illicit drugs were involved so that shouldn’t count.)

His name was Phil Harmonic, and he was by profession a door-to-door vibrator salesman and by avocation a nature photographer. As a young man, through being frugal with his earnings and lying on his 1040 tax form, Phil was able to save enough money to realize one of his most cherished dreams…a photography “safari” to the Serengeti in Africa. (“Serengeti” is derived from the Maasai language and means “push-up bra”.)

After months of planning, preparation and great anticipation, Phil finally arrived one momentous day on the African plains, where he met his guide, collected his equipment and together they embarked on their journey to record the beauty and mystery of that portion of “the plateau continent” and especially of the denizens that populate the area, the wildebeests, the cheetah, the cantaloupes, the various types of monkeys, the Chevrolet Impala, the majestic lions, the hyena, and of course, the noble African elephant.

It was truly a dream come true for him.

Phil and his guide were out early one morning, driving down a rutted dirt track deep in the African veldt when they spotted a lone bull elephant, standing some distance from the road, his left front foot lifted off the ground; they stopped their truck on the roadside, got out and carefully approached the monstrous animal, who would now and again place the obviously wounded foot down on the ground and immediately bring it up again; as they got closer, it seemed they could even see the pachyderm wince in pain as he did.

Our hero handed his camera to his guide, a local man named Fred (what? you were expecting Swintua or Mbetwee?) and began walking ever so slowly towards the elephant, barely listening to the warnings of the guide to be very, very careful. As humans always seem to do, he began to talk baby talk to the animal to calm the beast and make his friendly intentions known. Are you hurt, big guy? You okay? I won’t hurt you, just be calm, I just want to see what’s wrong with your foot, it’s okay, there you go, it’s all right, etc., etc. (African elephants, despite being unable to articulate speech, are known for their ability to understand gibberish.)

Phil was able to get close enough to the animal to see the problem…a large sliver of wood had become embedded in the elephant’s foot.  He began to stroke the mighty beast’s trunk, calming the animal he hoped, and then, so as not give the elephant any warning of what he was about to do, reached down slowly and then with a strong jerk, yanked the offending piece of wood from the animal’s foot.

The elephant started a bit, but then gingerly placed the wounded foot on the ground, testing it to determine the level of pain. When it realized the sliver had been removed, it turned its giant head and gave Phil what seemed to be a gentle caress with its trunk, a gesture of gratitude and appreciation for the good deed the man had just performed. As the elephant turned to leave, Phil noticed a scar on the left ear of the animal, a lightning shaped disfiguration right at the crease where the ear joins the head.

The elephant gave a small trumpet of thanks and swiftly, though limping, walked back into the jungle.

Many years later, Phil was visiting the local zoo, still taking photos of nature and its residents, when he came to the elephant enclosure. He was using a long “zoom” lens that day, and as he was focusing in closely on one large male, he noticed with a start that the animal had a lightning shaped scar on its left ear, and Phil was sure, in the most amazing of coincidences, that this was the very animal that he had once encountered on the African plain. The giant beast walked over more closely to where Phil was standing, and it seemed to the erstwhile photographer that, yes, this was “his” elephant.

With hardly a thought, Phil set down his Nikon, carefully climbed the fence that separated the enclosure from the people watching, managed to cross the protecting moat and approached the animal, using mostly the same silly, hopefully soothing gibberish he had used to calm the animal all those years before. The elephant watched impassively as Phil came closer and then, with a mighty roar, he turned to Phil and proceeded to stomp the living crap out of the salesman/photographer, ending his career as a purveyor of pleasure and a taker of photographs.

And the old saying about the punishment of good deeds was again proven to be true.

                                                         ######

So isn’t it about time we reexamined some of these “old sayings” and gave them a more modern interpretation?

Sure, why not?

> “There’s no accounting for taste”:

                Well of course there isn’t; there’s accounting for such thing as expenditures, accounts receivable, accounts payable, expenses, inventory, scrotums, interest, dugouts and other such financial items, but taste, sorry, not really.

                Wouldn’t it be better to say: “There’s no understanding why anyone with an IQ higher than room temperature would vote for Donald Trump.”

> “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink”:

                Well of course you can’t; you can’t make the horse bathe or swim the 200 meter backstroke either for that matter.

                Wouldn’t it be better to say: “You can lead a horse to water, but it might prefer Swedish vodka for all you know”.

> “You can’t judge a book by its cover”:

                Well of course can’t; you can judge it by how many pages it has, or by the type of font the printer used (FYI, this is Calibri I’m using) or even by the copyright date, but not by the cover.

                Wouldn’t it be better to say: “You can lead a horse…”, no wait, that was the last one, sorry. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, but if it’s a “tell-all” piece by Dr. Mary Trump, most of what it says about her uncle being a lying, perverted, narcissistic, fucktard sociopath with delusions of grandeur is probably true.”

> “He was asleep at the wheel”:

                Well of course he was; he couldn’t be asleep under the hood in the engine compartment, unless he was a squirrel or a spark plug, or for that matter in the glove box, unless he was the size of a box of Kleenex tissues, which are currently on special at Publix, 2 for $3.99.

                Wouldn’t it be better to say: “He was being pursued by aliens from the planet Zatox at the time of the accident and was rendered unconscious by their anti-matter ray-guns.”

> “The early bird catches the worm”:

                Well of course it does; everyone knows that no self-respecting worm is outside any later than 5:30am, due to the fact that worms have extremely sensitive skin to the ultraviolet rays of the sun, and as yet have not discovered sunscreen with a sufficient PFS that will protect their little slimy, disgusting tubular bodies.

                Wouldn’t it be better to say: “The early bird may catch worms but later in the day will be reduced to eating baloney and Clorox sandwiches, unless it drives over to the local Publix and gets an Italian sub with Genoa salami, tavern ham, cappacola, a kanooten valve, provolone cheese, a raincoat, veggie toppings and your choice of either multi-grain, white, moldy or whole grain bread.”

> “You don’t miss your water until your well runs dry”:

                Well of course you don’t; you don’t miss your desk chair until you go to sit down one day and it’s not there and you wind up breaking your coccyx when you fall spang on your ass in front of the entire Marketing Department. (I was going to say “tailbone” but “coccyx” sounds vaguely dirty, like uvula or nipples.

                Wouldn’t it be better to say: “You don’t miss your water if you use a synthesized, gamma ray-generating 56mm harmonizing laser cannon to shoot at it.”

Well, speaking of old sayings, “tempus fugit” (that’s Latin for “push-up bra”) and I can see by the word counter thingie down in the left-hand corner of my monitor that, indeed, tempus has fugited.

And remember…”Good friends never say goodbye, the simply say alpaca saliva.”

Love and undergarments,

Cap’n John

Post Script…Publix better cough up some cash for all the free advertising I’ve given them.

I HOPE HE DOESN’T START ANYTHING WITH BURMA EITHER

WOWIE ZOWIE! I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW LUCKY I AM…I JUST RECEIVED AN EMAIL FROM BILL GATES, AND HE WANTS TO GIVE ME…READY…!!!FIVE MILLION DOLLARS!!!

Honest.

All I have to do to qualify for the money is a) pretend to like that incredibly bad rug that he wears all the time, except in the shower, I hope (you’d think Melinda would take him aside and tell him the truth), b) say something good about Windows 10 on some social media platform and c) repeatedly poke his pet gerbil with a fork.

This is even better than those Nigerian bank guys contacting me all the time to tell me about how their client has passed on and didn’t have any next of kin and how they just can’t let the 56 bajillion dollars the guy left behind get moldy sitting in their bank and how they’ve chosen me over the other 7.3 billion people on the planet to receive this cash if I will split with them 50/50 and how they know there’s lots of scams out there on the ‘Net but that they are COMPLETELY legit and all I need to do is give them my address, phone number, Social Security number, shoe size, children’s names and my bank account number/password so they can make a direct deposit into the account and thank you very much, may I be blessed with the company of many large breasted women.

I’m not going to take Bill’s money however, ‘cause I’m pretty sure he’d want to hang with me then, and despite the fact that I admire all the donations that he and his wife Melinda make to the various charities, he’s a fucktard whose company makes crappy products that only work properly once in a blue moon and has a customer service department that doesn’t give an iguana’s butt about helping anyone with a problem with said crappy products; sorry, BG, but I’m particular about with whom I hang. (Yes, that is proper English, yes, the last few words of that sentence do sound awkward and no, I’m not changing them.)

Besides, I’d probably just blow it all on an expensive home, a fancy red Acura NSX, women with large breasts, a huge yacht, museum quality artwork, women with large breasts, a 1922 Honus Wagner baseball card, women with large breasts and season’s tickets to see the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, just so I could watch them embarrass themselves in person rather than on TV. On second thought, forget the Bucs tickets…if I had to choose between watching the Bucs and getting a sharp stick in the eye, I’d have to think about it for a moment.

In other bazillionaire news, I’m sure by now you’re aware that President Tweety Bird has declared a trade war on China by attaching all kinds of import tariffs on a number of their products coming into America. Like the folks on Wall Street, I find this news very disturbing, but honestly, I’d be a lot more upset if he had declared a trade war on Japan.

The Japanese export a whole shitpot full of products to the U.S. as well, stuff like electronic gear and cameras and Toyotas and Hondas and Sapporo beer (don’t you DARE put a tariff on Sapporo, you douche-bag) and tiny little bonsai trees and steel and Pokemon cards amongst others.

They would even like to start exporting more natural gas, but not to us, to their Southeast Asian neighbors…according to CNBC (C the link below), they have an excess and need to dump it someplace, which rather surprises me, frankly, because I would have thought that Mexico would be the country with excess natural gas, given what their food does to my GI tract, as opposed to the effect of Japanese food typically has on me.

https://www.cnbc.com/2018/04/02/natural-gas-japan-sees-opportunity-in-foreign-energy-markets.html

I called the Japanese embassy here in Tampa the other day to get the lowdown on any possible trade war rumors, find out about the natural gas thing and see if they could swing me a discount on an NSX. I spoke to one of the attaches, a man named Sheezabad Mammajama, who was very cordial but not very helpful.

Mr. Mammajama and I shared some personal info, for the sake of the conversation…he told me despite his name that he was an American citizen, born in Mud Butt SD (oh, BUTTE, sorry) of Japanese immigrant parents, and that he had lived here all his life. He said he was “into” cooking and that Mexican food was his specialty, which might explain some of the above NG excess, and that he also enjoys jogging, baseball, women with large breasts, midget sumo wrestling and classic rock. (He told me Deep Purple’s “Made In Japan” was his favorite album…go figure.)

Sadly, however, he couldn’t provide any insight into whether America and Japan were headed for a trade war, that he couldn’t get me a discount on an NSX but that he would send me a case of Sapporo, to show his country’s good intentions towards their American friends.

I thanked Mr. Mammajama for his time and generosity, and then sent him the YouTube link to DP’s “My Woman From Tokyo”…I figured that was the least I could do to thank him for the beer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIliB436370

I could have sent him some of that 5 mill I was going to get from Microsoft Bill, but since I decided not to take it, he’s gonna’ have to settle for the Deep Purple vid.

I understand that Bill Gates is an atheist, but I’ve heard that God does exist and lives at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Just ask him.

Love and Nikons,

Cap’n John

STEELY DAN, MY NEW DSLR AND A SWIRLING KANOOTEN RADIUS

Just an FYI, but I wrote the following about a week ago, well prior to the sad and extremely untimely passing of one of my heroes, Tom Petty…more on TP and the ‘Breakers in the future.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

Well, here we are, post-Irma, and it’s now time for us to get back to the serious business of screwing up a bunch of other things in our world. (Did someone mention the President?)

In the midst of all the Irma Gedden scariness, along with all the crises’ and other equally crazy stuff happening lately all over the globe (did someone mention the President?), you may have missed a passing that we note here with great sadness…Walter Becker, a stellar musician, guitarist and one of the founding members of the rock group Steely Dan, left us on September 3rd of this year at the age of 67. There is only one appropriate word that can be used to describe Becker’s work…brilliant.

Here’s one for you, Walter (he played bass on this track), with a little help from the “Peanuts” kids…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WssjDa1th2U

“Please take me along when you slide on down.”

Did you know that “Steely Dan” is the name of a strap-on dildo (“Steely Dan III from Yokohama”), taken from the book “Naked Lunch” by William S. Burroughs. Burroughs, you may remember, was one of the Beat Generation writers that both Becker and Donald Fagen, the group’s other founding member, admired greatly.

Steely Dan III from Yokohama. Shit, I just call my dildo Bob.

And speaking of my new camera, I’m wondering if I can get some help or advice or whatever from the more electronically adept of you folks.

I just bought a new Nikon D3300 DSLR, and I have to tell you, it sure looks like a great camera (my second Nikon), with all the little buttons and gizmos and the too fey display screen on the back with all the little dials and graphs and thingies moving around, measuring shit and telling you what the relative light level and barometric pressure was in Dublin, Ireland at 22:03Z last 14 June, plus a bunch of cryptic but really impressive-looking electronic features like a “swirling kanooten radius” switch, which allows the camera to generate 1.21 gigawatts of power. (Okay, by show of hands, how many of you have recently considered building a time machine and returning to the 1950s?)

There’s a “trashcan” button to delete poopy shots, there’s “+/-“ button that changes the positive and negative terminals of your car battery in some manner, allowing for greater fuel efficiency and lower cholesterol, and there’s also a thingie to push that has a marking on it that looks like a little lightning bolt…I haven’t touched that one. There’s a circular dial gizmo on the top that has all kinds of letters and little pictures of this and that on it…I turned the dial to the “flower icon” (hey, how about that jargon, huh?), and then looked through the viewfinder, but I didn’t see anything that looked at all like a flower…all I saw was the other side of the room.

There’s even a small, black button with a big, ominous-looking red dot in its center, just below the dial thingie…I haven’t touched that one either.

But the worst part, and this is what I’m hoping SOMEBODY out there can help me with…I can’t for the life of me figure out where to put the film canister…anyone?

Appreciate it.

I saw this headline on a website last week…”Pam Anderson writes open letter to Kim Kardashian”. (I’m going to wait here a moment while you go back and re-read that sentence and digest it a little more thoroughly…)

I can only assume that Pam used crayons and Kim thought it was adorable and hung it on the ‘fridge, right next to a couple of Kanye’s drawings.

Did I mention I just bought a new camera last week?

Love and Photoshop,

Cap’n John

Post Script…oh yeah, that pic above of the sun, setting over the Gulf…took that with the new Nikon; sumbitch works pretty good, huh?

Post Post Script…I couldn’t find a place to sneak this in above, although for me, in most instances, that’s typically not a deterrent…

!!!!GO DODGERS!!!!

Thank you…we now return you to your regular programming.