A number of years ago, just prior to having some minor surgery performed at a local hospital, during the admitting process, the nurse who was taking information from me asked me if I had any other chronic complaints, to which I responded that I also suffered from what I thought of as a severe case of pecuniary strangulation. She duly noted this in my file and moved on to other questions.

Nurse: “And did your bowels move this morning?”

Me: “No, to the best of my knowledge they’re still in the same place they were.” 

But that isn’t what I want to talk about today.

Awareness can be such a nebulous thing at times; prior to relocating to Florida back in 2015, like most people in America, I “knew” that the Sunshine State had a large percentage of senior citizen residents, a demographic class of which I had become a charter member several years earlier.

But “knowing” and “knowing” can be two different things indeed, because I hadn’t been living in New Port Richey (named for Lionel’s brother, a prominent local proctologist) for more than a few months when I realized, with a capital realize, that whoa, I’m up to my butt in wrinkles and gray hair down here.

But that isn’t what I want to talk about today.

Speaking of realizing and aging, another thing that has occurred to me recently is the increasing awareness I have that, any time it’s necessary for me to bend down for something, how much farther “down” becomes every year…it sure didn’t used to be that far away.

But that isn’t what I want to talk about today.

According to CBS affiliate KDBC in El Paso (I can never hear the phrase “El Paso” without thinking of Kinky Friedman’s hilarious send-up of Merle Haggard’s song Okie From Muskogee, “I’m Proud To Be An Asshole From El Paso”), 227 pounds of contraband bologna was recently seized by Customs and Border Protection agents from a woman attempting to enter the U.S. at the Paso Del Norte crossing (“Paso Del Norte” is Spanish for “boom shaka laka laka, boom shaka laka laka”). When questioned by the CBP agents, the woman admitted that she thought she was smuggling marijuana, but became suspicious of her cargo upon seeing how large and red the joints were.

But that isn’t what I want to talk about today.

I’ve been thinking about buying a new Cap’nmobile here lately…no particular reason necessarily; the old Edsel is still running pretty good, the mileage is still under a bajillion and it looks better than its owner, but I get bored with cars after a time and, being a conscientious American consumer, go buy a new one. I want another sports car, being addicted to tight turns and going up and down through the gears, and I saw this little cutie the other day (see below) and decided that it might be the one. Still thinking and weighing all options. 

But that isn’t what I want to talk about today.

I was looking for some music/lyrics to a song online the other day, and stumbled onto the sheet music for “Mary Had A Little Lamb” (honest), and I thought to myself, her family must have been shocked.

But that isn’t what I want to talk about today.

I looked this up (see below)…it’s true. 

Shit, now I can’t remember what the hell I wanted to talk about today…oh well, it’s time for my meds, so I’d better wrap this up.

Love and topics,

Cap’n John

Post Script…I will once again quote one of my fave comedians, Ron White…”I had the right to remain silent, I just didn’t have the ability.”

Guilty as charged.

Post Post Script…thank you, Kinky.

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