In keeping with the “nutcase” theme of the holiday season, I attended, along with a very good friend, the opening night performance of the Next Generation Ballet’s production of P.I. Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker last Thursday, which took place at the Straz Center in downtown Tampa. Despite an uneven and, at least in my friend’s and my estimation, a rather ordinary rendition of what is one of my all-time fave pieces of music/ballet, and further having to pay twice for parking at the Rivergate Tower, even though we only brought one car (long story, involving an advanced case of “stoopid” on the part of the Tower people), we had a lot of fun and a memorable evening. (Okay, sorry, you can accuse me of being a purist if you so choose, but come on, TUMBLERS? Yes, sports-fans, they featured two people doing a by-god-run-across-the-stage-and-leap-into-the-air-and-twist-and-turn-and-somersault tumbling thing at one point during the second act. What, are you kidding me?)

Tchaikovsky was most certainly spinning in his grave. Oh, and FYI, that’s STRAZ, not SPAZ, above…yeah, I made the same mistake the first time I heard the name as well; I remember thinking to myself, since no one else was there at the time, well, that’s pretty rude.

Anyway, my loyal readers will recall from several of my previous posts on the subject that since the very beginning of the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding blog, a number of persons have taken the time to write, email, text, send a telegram, call, send a smoke signal, release a carrier pigeon or send a message via telepathy to me, looking for advice on their love-lives, or lack thereof. Given that most of them are pathetically laughable, excuse me, that I am a kind and empathetic person, who has much experience on the battlefields of the sexes, I try to provide answers and counsel as I am able. 

Here goes…

“Dear Cap’n John:

                I recently met a young woman (to protect reputations here, I’ll call her Bronwyn; her real name is Clara…oh, sorry) at a Christmas party at the home of her parents, and throughout the course of the evening, Bron (not her real name…d’uh) was very friendly and “interested”, if you get my drift. Since I am a member of the military, she asked me to return later, after the party, to assist her in confronting an army of mice that had taken residence in her basement, and to possibly vanquish the king of these vermin and throw them out of the house. So I did, and we had a memorable evening, with an epic battle and sword fights and trumpets blowing and much running about, plus a victory lap through the Land of Sweets afterwards that featured beautiful music, dancing by Russians and fairies, and even some tumbling. It was all very magical, although the tumblers were a bit much. Anyway, here’s my problem…I think Bron is a bit young and immature for me, and I just can’t see any future to this relationship; sooo, do you think I should get season’s tickets for the Buccaneers’ games next year, considering what a shitty team they are?

                Perplexed in Tampa”

                Dear “Perplexed”: 

                Screw the Bucs…Jameis Winston is a clown and couldn’t find his butt with both hands and a map; the guy has 5000 turnovers in his first three seasons. Don’t waste your money.

                Cap’n John 

“Cap’n John:

                My new boyfriend and I recently took a tour, after a Christmas party at my folk’s house and later a really bitching battle with some nasty rodents, through Sweetland, and afterwards we went back to my place and got it on BIG time, I mean, we had a trombone, a Die Hard battery, two Dalmatians, an egg-beater and a 55-gallon drum of lime Jello (there’s always room for Jello). This guy is pretty rad, and even works for Planters in their Prep Department, but he does have an old girlfriend he stills sees now and again…he says they’re just friends. Knowing all this, I’m thinking of buying two season’s tickets for us to see the Tampa Bay Bucs next year, but I’m afraid he’ll dump me and head back to the princess. Should I toss this nut, or take a chance?

                Cracking Up

                Dear “Cracking”:

                Screw the Bucs…they couldn’t win with Joe Montana at quarterback, and Jameis Winston is more like Joe Dirt than “Joe Cool”. Save your money and keep dancing.

                Cap’n John

“Dear Cap’n John:

                I’m married to a wonderful woman who is a loving wife, a fine mother to our children, a woman with a career who also supports my work and an all-around decent human being; however, she is an ax-murderer in her spare time, and it’s making problems in our marriage. Would you advise getting tickets for the Buccaneers’ games for the ’18 season? I hate to pay for two seats and then have my wife end up in jail.

                Married to Jane the Ripper”

                Dear “Ripper”: 

               Screw the Bucs…they stink. Save your money for a good defense attorney. And FYI, two season’s tickets to the ballet are a LOT cheaper, and the action is very similar to what you see on the field every Sunday during the Buccaneers’ games.

                  Cap’n John

“Cap’n John Krissongs:

                Repeated attempts to collect payment on the debt you owe”…okay, never mind this one.

 “Cap’n John:

                The girl in the apartment below mine has attracted my attention over the last few months by lying out in the nude on her patio, which is directly under and in clear view of mine. I think she’s trying to give me a message, and she has a great tan, but I found out from another neighbor that she’s an avid Tampa Bay Bucs fan, and I’m afraid she might be some kind of mental deficient…should I say the hell with it and take a chance anyway? Oh, FYI, she has three breasts.

                Guy in Apartment D”

                Dear “Apartment”:

                Screw the Bucs, but don’t take a chance with this woman, I don’t care how many boobs she has. There’s something wrong with someone who follows a team that sucks as bad as the Buccaneers and has an asshole like Jameis Winston as their quarterback. Suggestion? Find one with more brains and one less breast…unless she’s a “D” cup, then you might want to reconsider.

                Cap’n John

That’s all I have time for now, loyal readers…I certainly hope this answered and at the same time put to rest some of the concerns many of you seem to have about love, dating, the opposite sex and just how bad the Tampa Bay Buccaneers football team is.

Oh, and I just learned that the Glazer family, owners of the Bucs franchise, are sponsors of the Spaz Center…boy, that explains a lot, doesn’t it?

Love and toe-shoes,

Cap’n John


I think I may have figured out why President Donald “Tweet” Trump has such a problem with aliens…he’s confused. (And here you just thought he was an asshole.) Yeah, I have a feeling that whenever someone mentions “aliens” he immediately gets this image of creatures from “deep space” (see above), and freaks.

Can’t you just picture it? (Do the “wavy lines” thing that Wayne and Garth did in Wayne’s World here)…

(From inside the Executive Residence of the White House, with the First Family sitting around the dinner table, eating Big Macs and watching Jerry Springer while they dine)

                POTUS (frowning with concern): “My God, Melanoma, they’re coming for us with their “suck rays” as we speak, to vacuum the brains right from our heads…we just can’t let any more of them into the country.” 

                FLOTUS (wiping special sauce from her chin): “But Mr. Wonderful, you shouldn’t be concerned, you don’t have a thing to worry about. They can’t take what you don’t have.” (Note to script supervisor…that’s “FLOTUS”, not “flatus”…easy mistake to make in this instance.)           

                POTUS: “But Mel, I’m worried about all the suckers, excuse me, voters in the “blue” states that voted for Crooked Hillary…shit, there’s no one in Washington or in the “red” states that has a thing to worry about either. I’m just afraid of what might happen if these monsters land and try to overthrow the government…I still have ObamaCare to fuck up and those huge tax breaks for all my rich buddies to get through Congress. I don’t have time to deal with an alien invasion. Shit, I may have to nuke them when I get done with that fat fuck over there in North Dakota.”

                FDOTUS Tonka (raising her hand to be acknowledged): “But your Eminence, don’t you mean “North Korea”?”

                POTUS (waving his hand dismissively and talking with a mouthful of two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun): “Whatever…my degree from Wharton was in Econ, not geography.”

And on and on and on…

Were this to actually take place, you could make book that President Tweety Bird would welcome aliens from outer space, given that so much of his support is from persons of the far right, ultra-conservative Christian persuasion.

Why is that, you ask? Well, according to the Reverend Dr. Bruce H. Downing, who is the pastor of Northminster Presbyterian Church in Endwell NY, in his 1968 book, “The Bible and Flying Saucers” (I couldn’t have made that up if I had tried), Jesus Christ was an “extraterrestrial sent to Earth to rid the world of sin and wickedness”; you know that PTB, in an effort to further mollify his support base would, much like Gabriel, trumpet this all over Twitterdom, once he realized that these were “aliens”, not “aliens”.

Of course, I could be mistaken (not likely, I admit, but possible) but my theory explains a lot, wouldn’t you agree?

By now most of you know that I am not a big believer in segues, so I’ll just plow ahead, oblivious to proper literary form and good taste… 

Did I mention that I’m seeing the Next Generation Ballet’s production of P. I. Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker at the Straz Center down in Tampa next week? No? What a doofus I am. Yes, it’s true, an enormous yearning for culture overcame me a few weeks ago and I got tickets for myself and a friend… (the first time I read about the Straz Center here in Tampa, I misunderstood the word and thought it said “spaz” and I remember thinking to myself, well, that’s pretty rude).

I understand that the Straz is hosting a “Star Trek” compendium next summer…the play will feature Matt Damon, reprising the Captain James Tiberius Kirk character, with the other parts still to be cast; should be a blockbuster. (The big hit, not the defunct movie-rental place.) 

Did you know that Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great, the tetrarch of Galilee, built a beautiful city on the Sea of Galilee and named it Tiberias, after the Roman Emperor Tiberius? (I hope he was a better tetrarch than he was speller.) True, at least according to WikiPedia. And that Tiberias is mentioned in the Bible (Excretions 45:89), hopefully making this entire post come full circle.

President Trump has sworn to his faithful minions that no aliens will ever set foot in Tiberias either…he plans to deal with them just as soon as he has a handle on this Russian thing.

Love and rayguns,

Cap’n John

Post Script…I had this one left over and wanted to use it…

Mel and Don, at the gala White House Costume Party last fall…okay, I made that one up. 


As you can see from the above, I put up my Christmas tree last night, what with it being the holiday season and all. Yes, it’s a very small tree, but hey, we’re talking quality here, not quantity. (I remember telling a young lady that once, in much different circumstances…she persisted in referring to me as “Shorty”.)

(The bitch.)

Anyway, I did my annual five minute’s worth of tree-decorating, hung my two stockings (one for me and one for the Harley Dog (below), who sadly is no longer with us; I still put his stocking up though, just because…it’s my house, and I don’t need a better reason), all the while playing the requisite Christmas music on my stereo (“The Nutcracker”, one of my all-time faves), and drinking eggnog fortified with Baileys. (Actually, it was more like Baileys with a splash of eggnog.) 

Of course, I only heard the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies” and “Waltz of the Flowers” and oh well, all done…and FYI, I hate eggnog, I really just had the Baileys.

So, to give all of you an opportunity to get me something I really would like to have for Christmas, and not wanting any of you to have to fret over what to buy me, I have a suggestion for you guys…

…I would REALLY REALLY REALLY like to have a Pagani Huayra (see below). It’s named after the Andean God of Wind, Huayra-tata, which translates into English as “Holy shit, look at that bad oscar”. (Okay, it’s a loose translation.) 

Sporting a V12, twin-turbo Mercedes-AMG engine that develops just over 700 horsepower, it has a top end of about 230 MPH and the 0-60 time is 2.8 seconds. It uses a 7-speed gearbox and has a curb weight of just under 3000 pounds. Base price is €850,000, or $1.15 million, which means it would take me about three weeks to make enough at my part-time gig at Publix Supermarkets, where as you know from my previous posts I’m employed as a “Front Service Clerk” (a $200 name for a 27 dollar job, as I’ve said before) to buy one.

Or you guys could all pitch in…(subtlety, thy name is Cap’n John).

So there you are, mateys…if you’d like to bring some serious Christmas joy into Cap’n John’s world, here’s your chance.

Or you could get me the same thing you got for me last year and just wrap it differently.

And speaking of geography (don’t ask), I just found out today that despite my belief to the contrary, Brazil is NOT located just north of Atlanta. (Like I said, don’t ask.) 

Hey, who knew?

At top speed, I could drive from New Port Richey, where I live in Florida, to Atlanta in just under two hours in a Huayra.

Hint, hint.

Love and fuel injection,

Cap’n John