I GET LETTERS_VOL. III

(Editor’s note: Today’s post is dedicated to my friend and co-worker Alex S., who is graduating on Saturday from the University of South Florida with a Bachelor of Science in Personal Financial Planning. The world was deprived of an outstanding human being when Alex wasn’t born twins, and I am as proud of him as if he were my own grandson. Congratulations, buddy, and damned fine job.)

Baphomet.

An interesting word, one that slides off the tongue in a manner that is at once lyrical and yet mildly obscene. (I knew a woman like that once.)

Baphomet is a deity that the Knights Templar were accused of worshipping back in 1307, the same year the Los Angeles Dodgers last won the World Series, during the inquisition of the now famous group of medieval knights by King Phillip the IV of France; the suppression, arrest and subsequent torture/death by burning at the stake of these warriors all commenced on Friday, October 13th, thus leading to the superstition of bad luck happening on that day…it was certainly true for the KTs that fateful Friday.

Rumors that President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump and a number of Republican Senators are worshippers of the “Sabbatic Goat” are unsubstantiated but there is support for a full investigation into the matter by a number of Democratic Congresspersons in the House.

None of the above has the slightest thing whatsoever to do with the subject of today’s post, but I thought you might like to have the information nonetheless.

You’re welcome.

And speaking of things completely unrelated, I saw an ad for a weight loss program in the Tampa Bay Times (motto…All The News Occasionally) recently that featured both a picture of a curvaceous and very attractive young woman and a headline that read “Get the body you want”, and all I could think was, yeah, and how do I get her to cooperate?

Please insert the requisite rim-shot here.

As my regular readers are aware, I have a disdain for concise yet flowing segues, so I’ll not use one here and plunge ahead.

Lawrence Peter Berra, better known as “Yogi” to his millions of fans across the baseball world, was renowned for a number of things, not the least of which was a Hall of Fame MLB career spanning 19 years as a player, most of those as an 18 time All-Star catcher with the famed New York Yankees. Yogi was the American League MVP three times, in 1951, ’54 and ’55 and won 13 World Series rings, as both a player and a coach, which is still the record; the Yanks retired his number “8” back in ’72.

Yogi could play.

He was also known for his pithy and often hilarious statements about the great game of baseball, about life and about being a Yankee. He was credited with being the first to say, “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over” and “It’s just like déjà vu all over again” and “You better cut the pizza into four pieces, ‘cause I’m not hungry enough to eat six”. (I love that one.)

But the one quote that Berra was credited as saying is the one that applies to my post for today…

“Never answer an anonymous letter.”

Hardly a day passes here at the WATRUK blog that I, as the Captain and Master of the vessel R U Kidding, don’t receive a goodly number (one) of letters, postcards, emails, text messages, smoke-signals and secret decoder-ring communiques about something I have written previously; some are complimentary, and some take umbrage with my point of view. I don’t mind that they take umbrage, as long as they put it back where it belongs when they’re done.

So I thought that, in an effort to edify the vast sea of Cap’n John followers on what it’s like to be a major media figure/blogger in today’s 24/7 Internet world, I would share some of the more pathetic, excuse me, interesting missives that I have received lately.

Good luck stopping me now.

“Dear Scumbag Capen John:

                As presadent of the Arkansaw chapter of the Nashonal Union of Trump Supporterrs (NUTS) and a GOD FEARING MURICAN citizen, I think you’re a real asshole for righting ensulting articles about out GREAT presadent Donald Trump and sayin all kinds of rude things about His Emmanance like that there one you rote back in Febawary (BRINGING IN THE SHEEPS 3/21/19) callin Mr. Trump His Largeness and sayin that peepul who voted for him are his sheeps. MURICA don’t need no more libural shitwads like you, asswipe, and I hope you rot in hell.

                                Beanie N. Cecil, Presadent, Arkansaw Chapter,

                                Nashunal Union of Trump Supporterrs”

“T0: Cap’n John Krissongs

FROM: Bea L. Zebub, V.P., ROUND

RE: (Your blog post from 4/5/19)

I have been asked by the Executive Council of ROUND (Republicans Operating to Unify North Dakota) to address your comments in the subject post about several ND Republican legislators refusing to join in prayer to a heathen god led by a godless heathen from Nevada, one of the epicenters of sin and degradation here in America. By referring to the Great God Almighty as an “imaginary friend” and belittling our courageous representatives for not joining in when some pagan “cleric” offers some ungodly mumbo-jumbo to his heathen “god” as a “prayer” only goes to prove that you are nothing more than a unprincipled lying sinner that will burn in HELL for your apostasy. You not only stink, but I understand you have a small penis as well.

                                Sincerely,

                                Bea L. Zebub, V.P., ROUND”

“Mr. Cap’n John Krissongs:

                My name is Warren Peace and I am the Marketing Vice President for Major League Soccer, and I’m writing today to complain about your comments on our organization in your post from the 5th of April, comparing MLS members to “sissy vegetarians, vegans or some other Commie, pinko nonsense”. Despite your insulting remarks, including saying that MLS did not have an official hamburger, such as Wendys being the Official Hamburger of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament, but instead had an Official Tofu, which apparently was some kind of reference to the fans of soccer being major wusses, as lovers of the great game of “football” we know that even though it looks like a sissy game with a bunch of “players” running back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, like ants all over an anthill, soccer is a fabulous sport along the same lines as the almost as exciting game of golf. If you persist in maligning MLS, we will be forced to boycott the WATRUK blog, bring about sanctions against you personally and even go as far as to have your peenie whacked. I must close now; it’s time for my prune/beet/squash kombucha. And no, MLS does NOT stand for Major Little Sweeties.

                                Warren Peace, MLS”

“Cap’n John:

                I’m a big fan of the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding blog, and I really enjoy your writing, but I was very disappointed in your remarks about Bill Murray in your post “OSCAR (AND HIS OTHER YOUNGER COUSIN ARNOLD)”. I’ve followed Bill’s career since his days with SNL and I think he’s one of the funniest men on this planet or any other. So your saying that he “pretty much played the same character in about 200 movies” was really a low blow and totally unfair to Mr. Murray. Anyone that knows anything about his films knows that he played the same character in no more than a 150 movies, tops. I’d like to take you out behind the “Caddyshack” and kick you in the “Meatballs”, and “Groundhog Day” is not a sale on Thursdays at your local butcher shop.

                                Lacy Underwear, Punxsutawny PA

“Hey Cap’n John”

                Dude, great tip about how to remove a bra with only one hand in last week’s column (OF BRASSIERES AND BIBLE STORIES). I tried it on my girlfriend the other night while we were having dinner with her folks at this swanky Chili’s restaurant and it worked excellent. So now my gf says I ruined her fave white blouse because when I released her “chest baskets” her boobs dropped onto her plate, right in the middle of her Italian linkwienie or whatever it’s called and she’s really pissed and won’t talk to me. I was going to try it on her Mom but she moved back from the table too fast. You da’ man, bubba.

                                Cliff Hanger, Mammary Falls NY”

I have many more just like the above (or worse), but for the sake of brevity, a drummer to whose beat I rarely march, I will close here…no point to prolonging the agony.

Love and postage stamps,

Cap’n John

TWINS SEPARATED AT BIRTH??? YOU DECIDE.

THE USPS…ON THE JOB, LIKE IT OR NOT

Unlike today’s younger generation, the so-called “millennials” in particular, I grasp the arcane concept of a “newspaper” in the old-fashioned sense of a news organ that has a form (ink on paper) other than digital pixels on a screen; I have been an inveterate daily newspaper reader since back in my college days.

(Full disclosure…these days I read the online version of the daily Tampa Bay Times; I miss the tactile feel of the paper in my hands, but I got sick of walking out in the morning to find it drenched and unreadable from the overnight rain.)

Back then, living in the medium-sized town of Joliet IL (yes, the same Joliet made famous in the original Blues Brothers movie, population approximately 75,000 in the 1970’s), I read the local paper, the Joliet Herald News. Most of the residents of the area read the “Snooze”, as we called it, along with one of the Chicago dailies, either the Chicago Sun Times, which was the Democratic, more liberal news source, or the mighty Chicago Tribune, a Republican powerhouse of international scope and national prominence and influence.

It was the Tribune for me, from back in the mid-70’s through the mid-90’s when I moved from Chicago to Los Angeles, where I then got the daily Los Angeles Times, which in those days was owned by the Tribune Company and considered a “sister” paper to the Trib, all the way through to this morning’s TB Times; I read it all, every morning, the front page, the national news, the local news, the sports section, the “funnies” (still my fave part of the paper) and of course, the editorial page, or “op-ed” page as we savvy media veterans refer to it.

Pretty much all the papers I’ve ever seen in this country print, alongside the opinions of the editors on the “op-ed” page, letters they receive from readers, allowing the authors of said letters the opportunity to sound off about this, that and the other subject; it’s been my experience that the “Letters To The Editor”, along with the opinions contained therein, are much like assholes…a) everyone seems to have one and b) most of them stink.

As the Captain and Master of the R U Kidding, as well as the editor of this blog, like newspapers, I often receive letters from my readers, either complaining that I have in one of my posts maligned one of their personal sacred cows or that I have made some comment to which they feel compelled to respond. Since the only things I was contemplating doing this evening were either a) watching reruns of The Beverly Hillbillies in Burmese (with subtitles), b) rewriting Article Two of the United States Constitution and reducing the term of the Presidency down to one week, retroactive back to January 19th, 2017 or c) publishing some of the letters I mentioned above, I decided to take the high road and share some of the more colorful and sophomoric, excuse me, interesting missives that I have received here at the WATRUK blog.

To wit, here are some excerpts that I thought you might enjoy (or that might make you yark into your azaleas)…

“As President of the Society for the Lovers of Pond Scum (SLOPS), I must take serious umbrage with your post of 4/12/18 (IS THIS THE PARTY TO WHOM I’M SPEAKING?) in which you compare President Donald Trump to one of nature’s most misunderstood substances, the great American pond scum. It is a grievous and uncalled-for malignment of this most precious of our native algaes to make this invidious comparison, and I can assure you that, should you continue this foul defamation in future columns, SLOPS will be compelled to mount a boycott of your blog and to suggest to your readers that they not only discontinue their readership, but to also seek you out and whack your peenie. This vile durance will not be tolerated.”

                                                Dan DeLyon, President, SLOPS”

“In your post of 11/29/18 (THOUGHTS ON THE BLOGGER AS AUTHOR) you mention the cruel and frankly sick act of the shaving of a gerbil, perpetrated by a character in one of your sick, twisted stories, and we here at the Society for the Prevention of Animal Zoomorphism (SPAZ) are sickened and angered by this disgusting mistreatment of one of these adorable little rodents. You are a repulsive, sick, despicable, degenerate, twisted, sick, repulsive, gross, nasty, deplorable, twisted, reprehensible, disgusting, sick individual and we most sincerely hope that you contract an advanced case of crotch lice and then die from sclerosis of the blowhole, a lonely and broken man. Thank you.”

                                                Patty Melt, Secretary, SPAZ

“Re your column of 11/14/18 (ADVICE FOR THOSE WHO AREN’T GETTING ANY (AND I DON’T MEAN ADVICE)_VERSION 5.0) wherein you state that you and your daughter were “doing disgusting things to our cat with a salad fork”; this is the kind of flagrant abuse of an innocent feline that sick, disgusting, perverted, gross, horrible, degenerate, filthy, lying, sick, degenerate, perverted asswipes such as yourself find amusing. You are disgusting and perverted.”

                                                Laurel Enhardy, Hippo KY

“As the President of the 1910 FruitGum Company Fan Club, and their Number One Fan, I want to thank you for mentioning this most influential and yet sadly now mostly forgotten American rock band in your recent post of 11/14/18 (ADVICE FOR THOSE WHO AREN’T GETTING ANY (AND I DON’T MEAN ADVICE)_VERSION 5.0). “Simon Says” rock on, and we “Gummers” agree!”

                                                April Showers, Butt (excuse me) Butte MT

“People here in Idaho (home of the great Grown In Idaho® potato and sister state to Wisconsin, home of sour cream) are frankly damn sick and tired of being made fun of by disgusting, gross, lying, despicable, lying, nasty, gross, disgusting shitwads such as yourself just because we appear russet, sorry, rustic and backwards to you. To imply that Idaho has no universities or institutions of higher learning, as you did in your post of 5/11/18 (A YOUNG MAN AND THE SEA-THE SAGA OF LEAK POHLUPS, BABY SAILOR) is an au graten, excuse me, rotten thing to say, and I think you should be French fried, damn it, vilified for saying it. You are sick, disgusting and reprehensible, and you obviously have no respect for the peelings, shit, feelings of others.”

                                                Jack Cheese, Idaho Falls (down) ID

“I can’t believe you ordered your First Mate Tammie Wetzel thrown overboard 4/1/18 (HOW LONG? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?). You are really a sick, repulsive, gross, unfeeling swine. But hey, I loved your post about the mule who wouldn’t plow (ANYBODY GOT A 2X4 I CAN BORROW 4/24/18). Keep up the good work, you freak.”

                                                Sue Perficial, Pee Pee OH

“Cap’n John, you rock. Love your blog.”

                                                The Behind Bars Reading Group, Stateville                                                                  Penitentiary, Joliet IL

“Cap’n John Krissongs, your application to become a resident of the Home for the Chronically Bewildered has been processed and we are happy to let you know that you have been accepted. Please contact me at your earliest convenience to discuss the details of your residency.”

                                                Juan Atatime, Director

And a big thank you goes out to our Founding Fathers for the wisdom and foresight to ensure that Americans have a free press and freedom of expression…Ben and James and Thomas and all the guys must be spinning in their graves these days.

Love and newsprint,

Cap’n John

Q: WHAT CALIBER OF GUN IS RECOMMENDED FOR APARTMENT HUNTING?

Amidst rumors of growing dissension among the various members of the Board of Directors of the National Rifle Association, including the leaking of the above photo, taken during a garden break at the recent NRA National Convention and Flea Market, that shows several of the Board members having a heated exchange over which has more “stopping power”, a 9mm bullet or a .45? As can be seen from the picture, there is some obvious disagreement between these men.

But a much larger controversy has evolved from this photo since its release, as a formal and strongly worded protest was made to the same NRA Board, regarding the illegal poaching and indiscriminate wearing of exotic mattress covering, as depicted by the clothing of Peter Gunn, the Board member in the direct center of the picture wearing the disputed apparel.

The protest, sent not only to the NRA Board, but also to MSNBC and Rachel Maddox, was made by the Venerable Order of Mattress Inspectors and Testers (VOMIT), and had harsh words for the gun lobbyists in general and Mr. Gunn specifically, who is shown in the photo in a striped, vested suit made from an exotic mattress covering, which was rumored to have been hunted and shot by Mr. Gunn on a recent bedding safari to Cleveland.

“As it is widely recognized today that the exotic mattress covering is becoming increasingly rare in the wild with each passing year, it is absolutely imperative that this covering be protected in all ways to ensure its continued existence,” said VOMIT President Bradley Sussywoots. “We strongly protested, in the most emphatic language, our displeasure in seeing one of the NRA Board members wearing this rare, endangered covering. That’s criminal, or should be, in VOMIT’s opinion.”

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.

And in the category of “Sentences I Never In My Wildest Dreams Thought I Would Ever Hear” comes this recent entry…

“As an obese male, his life expectancy can expect to be substantially reduced,” attorney Curtis Fallgatter wrote in a motion…”.

The above is a direct quote from an article in the 10/21/17 edition of the Tampa Bay Times (“All The News You Need Sometimes”); I neither edited, added or altered. (The lousy English is also not mine…I know better.)

Mr. Fallgatter’s (a name I know you would swear I made up, but I didn’t) client is some guy who is a) 5’9’ tall and weighs 273 pounds and has b) recently been convicted of selling a bogus “Business Protection Plan” to rich investors and business owners as a tax avoidance scheme by kicking back 85% of the Plan’s premiums to the holder, after the premiums had been deducted as a legitimate business expense. The attorney was seeking a reduction in his client’s sentence, which was set by the court at 4 years and 6 months…the judge denied the motion, made an unkind remark about what assholes all lawyers and fat guys are, and adjourned.

And finally today, I believe I stumbled onto, inadvertently, a sign of approaching Apocalypse…I was reading about still another of our President’s latest fiascos, and this thought popped in my head, quite unbidden…”By comparison, this Trump asshole is even starting to make ol’ “W” look good.”

I immediately retired to the bathroom for a vigorous session of yarking.

Love and boxsprings,

Cap’n John

Post Script…YES, THAT WAS THE BEST TEAM IN BASEBALL, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE LOS ANGELES DODGERS, THAT BEAT THE CHICAGO CUBS IN THE NLCS LIKE A RENTED MULE AND IS NOW AWAITING THE OUTCOME OF THE ALCS BETWEEN THE NEW YORK YANKEES/HOUSTON ASTROS, TO KNOW WHO THEY WILL HAVE TO CRUSH ON THEIR WAY TO BECOMING THE 2017 WORLD CHAMPIONS.

Post Post Script…finally.

Post Toasties…and because I really like you guys, here’s Dickey Betts and Great Southern doing a Betts’ tune called “Bouganvillea”…it is one of the most beautiful rock songs I’ve ever heard, and Betts is superb with his playing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZmwULnL62g

Good night, and good hunting.