IS THAT YOUR PET, PEEVES?

(Editor’s note: The following comments on “posters” was a Facebook item found on Cap’n John Krissongs’ home page, and was deemed worthy by the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding editors to be included in today’s column…we can do that, you know.)

In this unsettled time of political foment, debate and discontent, the national awakening to systemic racism and the resulting upheaval, the Covid-19 pandemic and all its attendant horrors, natural disasters such as Hurricane Melania, err, excuse me, Laura, and a general feeling of, geez, what the hell is next?, I have an issue that I feel needs our immediate attention and scrutiny, despite all of the cacophony going on around us. This is something that must be recognized and, in my opinion, eradicated from our midst, right now, today.

I’m talking about what I call “posters”…you may call them other things, or maybe you are totally unaware of their existence, but they’re out there, and they’re undermining the integrity of our social media. (Oh brother, that’s an oxymoron for sure. And I hope you’re all impressed with the fact that I was able to use the words “their”, “they’re” and “there”, all in one sentence, all correctly and I might add, completely inadvertently.)

These are people who spend endless hours “posting” myriad items on their personal page for the perusal and edification of the rest of us. News reports, commentary, points of view from a million sources, videos and GIFs, every conceivable type of observation of life in today’s America (and elsewhere in some cases), flow from their fingers on their keyboards in a constant barrage of unsolicited information. And yet never once, not once, not one stinkin’ time, do they ever make a comment or a remark or even give you a “Like” on something that you posted on your page.

NOT ONE DAMN TIME.

I have several “friends” who are guilty of this social media faux pas, people who never engage in a dialogue with others, but assume that the media platform they’re on (in this case I’m talking about Facebook) is like a stage in a comedy club, where they have the mic and it’s their monologue. Blahdey fucking blah blah blah. (I spend very little time on Twitter, but from what I hear, it’s pretty much the same.)

I don’t mind their posts; hell, I read a lot of them, but these days, I never comment on them. Hey, if you can’t comment on the brilliant and erudite piece that I posted earlier, poop on you, I’ll be petty and petulant and do the same. (A little known law was passed recently by Congress allowing people over 65 to be petty and petulant any damn time they please, so there.)

I’m calling my Congressman today to demand that legislation be introduced and passed immediately banning anyone from posting endless remarks, comments and articles on their social media page without engaging in dialogue with others on theirs. This scourge of our social media platforms must cease…before it’s too late and we elect a President that frequently misuses social media as well.

________________________FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!_________________________

We interrupt this column to bring you a Breaking! News! Story! from the RUKME News Desk…

-Dateline Rome Italy

*Pope Francis Announces Excommunication For Cardinal, Nun*

In a letter to the Roman Catholic Cardinal Secretary of State and the College of Cardinals, Pope Francis today announced that he has initiated proceedings to excommunicate Cardinal Timothy M. Dolan, the arch-bishop of New York, as well as Sister Deirdre “Dede” Byrne for their roles as shills for President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump at the recent Republican National Convention. Although the entire text of the letter has yet to be released, a Vatican source, who spoke anonymously for fear the Pope would have him burned at the stake, said Francis was “incensed” at the appearances of both Dolan and Byrne at the RNC, and that “both of them should be taken out and flogged for supporting that horse’s rear end Donald Trump”. Francis was further quoted as saying that he “would have thought a Cardinal and a doctor wouldn’t be so stupid as to fall for Trump’s bullshit”. (Sister Byrne is a surgeon as well as a big-mouthed idiot.) When asked about the Pope’s letter, Cardinal Secretary of State Pietro Parolin had no comment, but sources in the Cardinal’s office said Parolin would lobby to have “both of them boiled in oil if he could”. Dolan and Byrne have been notified of their ouster from the Church and Dolan is said to be seeking employment as a maintenance engineer and Byrne as a nurse’s aide in a home for chronically unwed mothers.

More on this breaking story as it becomes available…

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post…

I learned recently that Democratic Vice-president nominee Kamala Harris pronounces her first name, “COMMAla”, like the punctuation, rather than the more common, “KaMALa”, which is what I thought it was until I found out differently. Frankly, I don’t give a shit if she pronounces her name “Sigmund”, that’s her business, but it does bring to mind the fact that a lot of Americans, be they Republicans or Democrats, liberals or conservatives, Catholic, Protestants, Jews, atheists or heathens, black, white, brown, green, tiger-striped or whatever, male, female or “other”, wealthy or poor, in sickness and in health, haven’t got a clue when/where to use a comma or not, as the case may be.

Now I don’t want to say that a lot of Americans are stoopid necessarily, but we did elect Donald Trump as President back in ’16, so that should tell you something.

Misuse of commas, or for that matter, any punctuation in general, isn’t near the “pet peeve”, at least to me, that those asshats (above) are, the ones that can’t find it in their hearts to engage in a little “social discourse”, to bother with dignifying something that someone else said on Facebook with a response, as if they’re just too aloof, just too cool, just too well-informed, educated, in-the-know, or just too fucking arrogant and vastly superior to the rest of the social media hoi polloi to lower themselves.

Actually, not only do the common misuses or exclusions of commas not upset me, frankly I think many of them are pretty damned funny.

It’s no pet peeve, believe me.

(No one will ever be able to accuse me of not using commas…in fact I have been told by readers, apparently because they think I seem to believe myself to be erudite and pithy as hell, that I use too many of the “sentence separators” and that I should cut it the hell out immediately. Like our fine President I pay no attention to critics, deeming them to be envious of my great skills as a writer and of my prowess with women of the opposite gender. (Full disclosure…actually, ever since a certain very nice lady and good friend from Texas pointed out to me that I use commas like they’re going to become extinct in the near future, I’ve been a lot more careful about “over-punctuating”. She also told me my frequent jokes about woman’s breasts were childish and immature, and that I was a serious male oinker sometimes, so I now only think about woman’s breasts incessantly but rarely write comments about them. Men are indeed pigs. And yes, I am a BIG supporter of the “Free the Nipple” movement, and free mine at every opportunity.)

Do I have any examples of the misuse of commas or the dreaded “neglecting to insert a comma at an appropriate place in a sentence” mistake? Why, I thought you’d never ask…

“Is that a Tyrannosaurus, Rex?” (The Latin translation of that sentence is “Qui est de tyrannosaurus, King?”, which isn’t as funny but a lot haughtier.)

“Is that your Austin, Healey?” (Maybe even better…”Have you seen Austin, Texas?”, assuming you know someone who goes by the name “Texas”, which I do.)

“I’d like to take a moment to thank my parents John and God…”

From the annals of being a bagger at a Publix grocery store, which I am…”Would you like everything in this, bag?”

“It’s time to eat Grandma…”

“Don’t let your worries kill you let the Church help.”

On a recent resume I received, applying for the position of Dungeon Master, Lower Hold…”My interests include cooking dogs and running…” This was in response to my ad, “Help, Wanted.”

One of my favorites…I’m sorry I love you.”

I have a friend who teaches 2nd grade who sent me this one…”We’re going to learn to cut and paste children…”

Frequently seen road sign (speaking of kids)…”Slow children playing.”

“I had to help my Uncle Jack off his horse.”

From a text message I saw recently…”You better call me bitch”

“It was a summer’s, Eve.” (Which doesn’t really make much sense, but I still thought it was funny. Shit, it was better than “Have you seen Austin, Texas?”)

I love this one…”The panda eats, shoots and leaves.” (I’ve had women accuse me of that.)

“She was known as Calamity, Jane.”

“Have you seen Sponge Bob, Square Pants?”

Obviously, judging from all of the above, proper sentence construction is greatly impacted by knowing when and when not to insert, commas.

Love and “Is that a Harley, Davidson?”,

Cap’n John

 

WE NOW RESUME OUR REGULAR PROGRAMMING, EVEN IF YOU’D RATHER WE DIDN’T

(Editor’s note…my last two posts here on the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding blog were so serious in nature, so dark, so foreboding, so chilling, so perverse, so, oh, sorry, that I decided to write a SPECIAL EDITION post that is actually humorous (I hope), in keeping with our comedy tradition. Oh, and this one is dedicated to Sarah K, the pixie girl.)

I was born and raised a Roman Catholic, and by no choice of my own on either account I might add, and when I was a kid (back in the Jurassic Era, but before the Park), I attended a Catholic parochial school in my neighborhood, Our Lady of Perpetual Motion, where I learned, interspersed with studying things like Arithmetic, English, Geography, Psychiatry, Phrenology and Medieval Sewing, that certain activities and actions perpetrated by humans are sinful.

Oh yes, Holy Mother Church had a real laundry list of sins back in those days, in the late 50’s and early 60’s.

Like all good organized religions, the Catholics are “people of the Book”, so we used the Ten Commandments that are found in the Bible in the Book of Amphibians, err, sorry, Book of Genesis, as our template for “what constitutes sin”. (Actually, it was my experience that “sin” was whatever the nuns said it was, including such activities as nose-picking, late assignments, pulling the hair of the girl that sat in front of you and calling your 7th grade teacher “Leadbelly” behind her back. Yeah, I almost got busted for that one; her name was Sister Mary Agnes of the Holy Ruler (her favorite weapon) and she was, at once, fat…and ugly. Sorry, but she was. Hands down she became a nun because she realized that her chances of finding a halfway decent guy/gal with that face and build were pretty slim. (Her chances were slim, her build…not so much.) She drags me out into the hall and says, what do you know about Leadbelly, and I looked at her with these wide, innocent eyes and said, nothing Stir, why? She said never mind and gave me a shot upside my head, just for good measure, and then sent me back inside.)

Okay, so here’s the Big Ten, paraphrased:

#1- No side gods…one is enough

#2- Don’t screw over Mom and Dad

#3- Church on Sunday, heathens

#4- No golden calves (see #1)

#5- No swearing using god’s name…say “shit” instead

#6- No killing

#7- No funny business with Mrs. WhatsHerFace next door

#8- No stealing…if it ain’t yours, leave it alone

#9- No lying (even if you are, especially if you are, the President of the United States)

#10- Don’t be looking greedily at Mrs. WhatsHerFace or her new BMW

Beyond the above, which we heard about frequently (daily), there were three other really heavy hitters for the nuns…”having impure thoughts”, “touching yourself impurely” and “eating meat on Fridays”. Pre-age 12 or so, the two “impures” were no big deal; by the time I was in 7th grade, however, pretty much all I did was have impure thoughts and then touch myself impurely. Hell, by the time I was 13, all I had to do was have a slight breeze blow past me and I got a hard-on; nowadays I can’t wake up my johnson with a trombone and a hand grenade.

These things were *MORTAL* sins, not to be confused with lesser transgressions, known as venial sins, as we learned from the sin arbiters, but the worst of all, we were told repeatedly, was EATING MEAT ON FRIDAYS. (Actually, the “impures” were way worse, but the nuns always got all mystical and vague when referring to them, due I’m sure to lack of practical experience on their part.)

For some reason the nuns at OLOPM had a real thing for meat-eating on the last working day of the week. AND WE WERE TO REMEMBER THAT A) IT WAS A BLACK, BLACK *MORTAL SIN* AND B) IF YOU DIED WITH THIS SIN UNCONFESSED ON YOUR SOUL, YOU WOULD GO STRAIGHT TO HELL, WITH NO DETOURS TO MIAMI OR THE CAYMANS. (Of course, we drove the pastor, Father Heftybags, nuts with our hypothetical questions during his weekly visit to our classroom to teach that day’s “Religion” class. “So Father,” says Steve Taylor, one of the “slower” (moron) kids in the class, “if I start to eat a baloney and sour cream sandwich at 11:56 on Thursday night, and the barometric pressure is 30.59 and I’m using a left-handed framitz wrench, if I don’t finish my sandwich until after midnight, which is then Friday in the Northern Hemisphere, is that a sin?”)

Be gone, Satan, get thee behind me.

Then it happened.

Back in 1995, Pope John Paul George and Ringo quietly decreed that, whoa, it was now all right to eat meat on Fridays, unless you didn’t have any of your own and had to steal some from Mrs. WhatsHerFace next door, which was a violation of both #8 and #10 (above), although by the new Papal decree at least you were okay on the Friday meat-eating sin.

Wait, are you kidding me?

Boy, I gotta’ tell you, if I’m some poor SOB languishing in the fires of Hades, parched and in despair, begging for just a drop of cool water but still having impure thoughts and I suddenly found out that I had been railroaded like this by the Church, I’d be some pretty pissed off. All I did was stop off at Mickey D’s for a Big Mac on the way home from work, totally forgetting it was Friday, I get home, eat my burger and then I have this major coronary event and bite the big one, hasta yo’ mama, senor, and next thing I know, there I am in front of St. Peter on the way through, who tells me, hey, special sauce lettuce cheese, you’re on your way to Perdition, have a nice trip, say hello to Lucy Fur for me when you see her.

And now all those Earthbound jerks still walking around up there can eat porterhouse steaks, lamb chops, burgers, the firm, up-turned young breasts of chickens, llama spleens, pork roast, gizzards, filets and carburetors on Fridays and it’s okay? Friday meat-eating is no longer a MORTAL sin? And I’m still stuck down here with Hitler, that roving asshole Jeffery Epstein, the guys from the 1919 Chicago Black Sox, my ex-mother-in-law and Richard Nixon? What the hell is that all about?

And worst, there’s no recourse, no higher Court of Appeals to hear your case, you’re hosed, happy fiery eternity, loser.

To say that I would not be a 100% completely satisfied customer under these circumstances would be the understatement of the millennia.

So the Catholics gave us no/no, wait, it’s okay on Friday meat-eating, the Mormons wear “magic underwear” and an have Italian angel as their patron saint, Martin Luther was probably certifiable and the Amish think they’re still living in pre-Civil War rural America and organized religion is surprised it has a credibility problem? Really? The same organized religion that gave us the Spanish Inquisition back in the 1500’s, flame-broiled “witches” in Massachusetts during the infamous Salem trials of 1692 and has a cadre of pedophile priests that have been giving “special dispensations” to young altar boys since who knows when, that the organized religion you’re talking about?

You have to figure that Satan is probably not happy with no longer getting new inmates from the ranks of the Friday Meat-Eaters Society, all the while he’s laughing like crazy at the poor assholes already in his custody on a First Degree Friday Hamburger conviction.

If you’re one of those assholes, that sucks, even worse than having Donald Trump as President, although not much.

I miss being a Catholic, about the way I’d miss root-canal surgery or having my car repossessed.

BREAKING NEWS!! THIS JUST IN FROM OUR NEWS DESK…

Dateline Rome…Pope Francis today announced that, due to frustration, depression and anxiety over the Covid-19 pandemic, all of the Ten Commandments have been temporarily suspended until further notice, and then further declared Donald Trump to be the Anti-Christ.

Francis also reaffirmed that eating meat on Fridays is still not a sin, but that being a Republican is.

Love and holy water,

Cap’n John

Post Script…speaking of the pandemic, I saw this headline on a news website the other day…

“How States Rank in Coronavirus Cases”

And I thought to myself, since no one else was there at the time, can I get a further clarification of the word “rank”? What was the criteria, best looking? Largest? Loudest? Best smelling? Most disgusting? What?

Hey, I just wanted to know, it might be important someday, all right?

Post Post Script…more Covid-19. So a bunch of cities got “flyovers” recently from various precision flying squadrons like the U. S. Navy Blue Angels, who fly the F/A-18, or the U. S. Air Force Thunderbirds, flying the F-16C, as recognition for all the folks out there on the front lines busting their butts and risking their lives during the pandemic…nice gesture.

So what did the Tampa area get as recognition from our good President and his Armed Forces for its “essential workers”? MacDill AFB, our local military base, gave us a flyover by a single KC-135 Stratotanker.

Tanker…a flying gas station.

Gee thanks, guys, what a thrill…I think I might have wet myself a little.