Did he really say that?

The kind of humor I like is the thing that makes me laugh for five seconds and think for ten minutes = GEORGE CARLIN...Stained glass, engraved glass, frosted glass–give me plain glass = JOHN FOWLES...Music is the mathematics of the gods = PYTHAGORAS...Nothing is more fluid than language = R.L.SWIHART

Monday, July 23, 2012

ALICE Under Contract









After Alice was uprooted from the Wonderland Velour Gardens and taken "around the town," I received a letter from the John Tenniel VI, the Lewis Carroll School Art Therapist.









Mr. G. Fatmat
Please do not return Alice to the Velour Garden. We are sending you a copy of the Oxford English Dictionary and a bronzed pair of the first shoes you ever wore. Alice is to be forever perched atop the O.E.D. Any adjustment to that location automatically revokes your Graduate Degree in MischMoschology.
Sincerely,
J. Tenniel VI

Dinner Theater



Most of my meals are eaten standing up. Directly below the stage is the kitchen sink. It is a well-known bachelor fact that eating on your feet sends all the calories straight down to your toes. I think I now have twelve of them.



Would you like a bite of my tuna fish sandwich?

After The Door Bell Rang








After my niece visited me for the first time. After Sugar & Sharpie & the Profile were here, this happened:

Four months into the baseball season, I finally got to see Albert Pujols hit a home run live. The Angels beat the Texas Rangers on the ESPN Sunday Night Game, 7-4. They are now five games behind the leader of the Western Division of the American League.


Obviously, Sunday is not the day of the week when Divine Intervention takes a rest.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^




NOT




ONLY




BUT



ALSO

Monday is

NOT

The day

Of the week

When

DIVINE INTERVENTION

Rests

*** *** *** *** ***

Please goto Monday Monday

The Door Bell Rang





Sharpie and the Profile
stopped by
for a visit.


They are on tour with
THE IMPLEMENTS.

I asked my niece to pose for a close-up.

"No go, Uncle Paul, not with this goddam skin condition."

She is very excited about her full scholarship to Fairfield University.
Her sister was there–Class of '99–and graduated magna cum laude.
But Lina commit a federal crime on March 13, 1996.



"But that was cool, Uncle Paul."
"Your sister stole something from a school library!"

"Which is exactly why the CIA hired her..."
"Because she was a thief?"

"Because, she had an uncle who was a personal friend
 of Pythagoras...and understood rap music."
"The CIA wanted Lina because of me?"
"Exactly. She stole the LA Times from the library because the newspaper
  could not be purchased  anywhere in Fairfield, Connecticut."
"The date was March 13, 1996."
"Exactly one year before I was born."

"The D.I. Syndrome struck again."
"You really believe in Divine Intervention, Uncle Paul?"
"That's not the question, Sugar."
"Then what is the question?"
"The question really is What day of the week do I believe 
  there can not be Divine Intervention?"
"What day of the week is that."
"I'm not sure. Ask your mother and have lots of fun in Brooklyn."

"Yeah. I'll be there soon because our last concert is at the new arena
  for the Brooklyn Nets basketball team."
"Brooklyn is where it's at! England's most controversial–and probably best
  novelist just moved there. His name is Martin Amis."
"Yeah, I know that. My brother, Anthony, already met him."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And Anthony hates him."
"Why?"

"The first thing Martin did was hit on Gia."
"You mean my stunningly beautiful niece-in-law?"
"One and the same."
"Ha! Martin is true to his character. Hey, Sugar,
 what original songs are the band doing these days?"

"Well, we did Used Carlota, Hey Judas,
  Little Man, and My Obligation."

"Will Jack* be at the Brooklyn show."
"No. He has to work."
"Well. Somebody's got to drive the bus."





Sugar and her band
brought me flowers.

The band is gone
but the flowers
are still here.






*All of the songs listed
were written by
Jack McCarthy.

He is–indisputably–the best singer/songwriter/ guitarist
in the history of New York City Mass Transit.

I have known Jack since 1961.

Since 1958, I have referred
to the other man
in this photograph
as FATHER FRANK.


My Uncle attended his first baseball game in 1936, "When Joe Dimaggio was a rookie."

The day this photograph was taken, I took Father to his last baseball game
at the stadium where his brother–my Uncle Tony–used to work.

On that day in the summer of 2007,
Father Frank wore his priest collar:
our passport to stadium privilege.



 To avoid stadium parking lot trauma,
 McCarthy drove my rental car two miles
 from Bowne Park to Shea Stadium.

 Half of the parking lot was then
 the construction site for the new ballfield.

 Because there was a priest in our car,
 we were allowed past security gates
 that would have been impassable
 were Father Frank not present.

 Jack dropped us off on the
 stadium-adjacent sidewalk.

A security guard escorted the clergyman
and his nephew to the press gate.
We rode in the press elevator.


 

After the sixth inning of a day game–when the sun was merciless–
another security guard went out of his way to relocate us
from a left-field box seat to six rows behind home plate.

After the game, my Uncle and I rode an overcrowded subway
with five seated passengers reflexively rising in order
for the elderly priest to have a seat.

A photograph of Father & his nephew was taken by a New York Mets'
photographer during the seventh inning stretch of a game
where the Mets defeated
the Atlanta Braves, 7-2.





Blogger's Note
In this youTube video, Jack McCarthy sings and plays the jazz standard All of Me.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

On This Day...She Was Alive And Well




JULY 22, 2012


Joan Rivers has a new book entitled
"I HATE EVERYONE...
STARTING WITH ME."

Her face may be laced with botox
but her humor  still burns with acid.





Ms. Rivers was interviewed in today's New York Times Sunday Book Review.
She expressed reservations about being excluded
from the newest Lyndon Johnson biography.
There are two books on my night stand. One is “The Passage of Power: The Years of Lyndon Johnson,” by Robert A. Caro. It’s fascinating that I’m not mentioned at all, considering the torrid affair I had with Mr. Johnson, or as I called him, Big Lyndy.
The other book on her nightstand is  "The Idiot's Guide to Osteoporosis."
Her favorite literary genre is
European history, but only up until Napoleon. The minute Shorty comes on the scene, I’m not interested.
When asked which of her own books she wished she had never written,
she replied, "Joan Rivers's Pop-Up Guide to Gynocology."

And then there was this exchange:
If you could meet any writer, dead or alive, who would it be? What would you want to know? Have you ever met an author and been bitterly disappointed?
The writer I would love to meet the most is God. I’ve been a huge fan of his work since the Ten Commandments. I’d like to know what influenced his font choice and why he engraved in stone and not silver.





George Carlin  still loves you Joan.




So do I.
And thank you for your autograph...







Blogger's Notes
Illustration by Jillian Tamaki.
Couched between two advertisements, Joan Rivers has a classic encounter with Louis CK.

"Clothes Make The Man But...


...Women Make The Decision."


While doing stretching exercises at the gym, a cliche Clothes make the man rolled out of the brain, immediately followed by another cliche: Women make the decision.



The cliche combo made me hunger for this blog site. I bicycled home as soon as possible.

That any two numbers can be added together was not originated by the good folks at the Lewis Carroll School of Logic. However, this was:
Any two number of word thingies joined by a conjunction can be, if not the mother of invention, a new born babe in the word family.

Therefore I googled–within quotation marks–"Clothes Make The Man But Women Make The" and logic prevailed. The word clothes tail-ended a quote that began with the same word.

As if a sock of a different color was replaced in the portmanteau suitcase, stuffed with mixed metaphors, please welcome the new-born babe:

Clothes make the man but women make the decision.