HEEL, STAY, RUN, PLAY DEAD.........

Like the pet owner in Chubbuck, Idaho, I miss throwing a Frisbee and him chasing it down and bringing it back to me. His catching a tennis ball in his mouth; walking alongside me on our daily trips; lying on his back as I rubbed his tummy – No, I never owned a dog but had a very friendly neighbor named, Herbie.

Dogs are man’s best friend. A masseuse is mine but that’s another story. All my friends who own dogs are better people for it. Dogs bring them uncomplicated love; simple joys and warm bonding. I envy them…but, my blow-up rubber lady comes close to that.

The thing about dogs is they're such fun, they're peppy, they're lively...well, some are. Shari Henderson is the owner of a wonderful toy poodle named, Skeeter. Until recently, what should be some of a dog’s greatest joys in life have become Skeeter’s worst nightmare. Food, a chance at chasing a squirrel, going for a walk, or even an opportunity to sniff another dog all have the same effect on the 11-pound poodle: he’s out cold.

Skeeter has been diagnosed with narcolepsy which is extremely rare in dogs and has fascinated Skeeter’s veterinarian in Pocatello. The condition is so rare that there are no statistics available its prevalence in dogs. “He has no personality right now,” Shari said. “It is scary. I don’t want him turning into a pooch/couch pillow. The condition is more common in humans but has been documented in some horses (many that I’ve bet on), ponies and a single Brahman bull – which made it very easy to ride in Rodeos.

Narcolepsy is caused by a disconnect between the normal sleep-wake-cycle, triggered by excitement the causes the afflicted to go from being awake straight into a deep sleep. My ex-wife obviously suffered from this disease. In humans (that let’s her out), strong emotion triggers attacks, and dogs have strong emotions about eating and having fun. With Skeeter, initially, only the sight of food triggered attacks…he lost so much weight he looked like one of the Olsen twins. His condition has progressively gotten worse, and his vet hopes the human medications he prescribed for Skeeter – Ritalin and an antidepressant – will help restore the dog’s normal routine.

Skeeter once spent his afternoons roaming the fence line in the Henderson’s one-acre yard. When Shari’s husband, Darrell, took him for two-mile walks, he pulled on the chain wanting to walk faster. Now, poor Skeeter falls asleep in mid-trot…I don’t care what you think – that’s a funny picture…the Hendersons place him in a stroller for his customary walk. The walks might not being doing Skeeter any good but Darrell’s legs are in great shape.

Skeeter can no longer eat regular dog food, so they hand-feed him cooked veggies and lunch meat. To keep the poodle awake during the meal, they hold up his back legs and massage his neck. I don’t blame Skeeter for not eating regular dog food – and I’m going to try having my legs held up during a meal…couldn’t hurt.

Aside from the danger of falling asleep in mid-activity, narcoleptic dogs are embarrassed to be around normal pooches. There’s no joy for a dog that can’t stay awake to experience things he once loved to do. Skeeter has taken the phrase, “Playing Dead” to an extreme.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON...BUT DOES IT?

Actors don’t have easy lives. Yes, the successful ones are paid huge sums of money, live extravagant lives, have teams of sycophants doing their bidding, are worshipped by fans…and themselves, and get to go on TV talk shows and make fools of themselves. Maybe they do have easy lives. But, they also have to deal with lack of privacy, paparazzi surrounding them and the possibility, for some of them, that their lack of talent will finally be discovered and they will be forced to get real jobs.

There is also a part of stardom that’s very troubling. Many are dogged by stalkers and mentally insane fans looking to do them harm. There are many cases of celebrities finding “fans” hiding in their homes, sending them threatening letters and necessitating the hiring of bodyguards to protect the star or their family. It shouldn’t come with the territory but it often does. Remember, the kidnapping of Frank Sinatra, Jr.? It turns out that there’s a real possibility that he was kidnapped by his own record company just so they wouldn’t have to listen to him sing again.

London, England has just reported a crime of the century: A horrible kidnapping of one of their new theatrical stars. This talented actress was to star in the opening of a West End theater comedy. She was taken just two days before opening night. London police and Scotland Yard are on the case but don’t hold out hope for the safety of this young actress. No ransom call has been received yet by the dastards who committed this unspeakable act. The producers are willing to pay anything to get “Daphne” back. A reward is being offered – two tickets to the play and an invitation to the opening night party.

“Daphne” happens to be a talented duck who was the leading lady in “Ducktastic” a spoof inspired by show business duo Siegfried and Roy. “Daphne” who performs tricks and bows to the audience in her show-stopping appearance, was stolen after a preview performance. (I know many actors who can’t do any tricks and are too klutzy to bow before an audience.) How can this happen you say? Possibly a “stage-door-Johnny” snuck in when the stage-door keeper named, Pop, had his back turned or was asleep. Stage-door keepers are always named Pop and always are asleep. Police are questioning Pop about seeing someone leaving the theatre with a quacking bundle under their arm.

“I am very concerned. She had 30 performances under her bill and was our best duck,” the show’s producer said. An understudy duck called Sabre is waiting in the wings. “I hope it will be a case of ‘A Duck Is Born,” he added. Some skeptical theatrical people are even suggesting that perhaps Sabre or her people had something to do with the kidnapping. Sabre’s favorite movie is “All About Eve.”

“The police came and were very supportive. Forty-five minutes after the theft, a lady found an empty box in Covent Garden. The box has been fingerprinted,” he told the news media. The show is being staged at a West End theatre not far from London’s Chinatown, famed for its Peking duck dishes. Police are scouring Chinatown restaurants looking for a duck with theatrical make-up and heavy eye-shadow.

“I am distraught. I found it too upsetting to walk through Chinatown afterwards in case there was any recognition,” he cried. “It is not often that you have a West End star stolen.” He also said he feared for the welfare of Daphne, a pure white Indian runner. “I hope they don’t try to take this duck to water. Indian runners don’t swim.” He also pointed out her spangled, sexy costume would probably make her sink.

All of London is up in arms at this kidnapping. Many actors and actresses fear that they might be next. Some are even taking swimming lessons. Let’s all pray for Daphne. I, for one, will never order Peking duck again until this case is solved.

YOU IS WHAT YOU WEAR, BRO.

Everyone has heard the phrase, “you are what you eat.” The same can be said about, “you are what you wear.” The first impression most people get about us is how we look – what we are wearing. If a gown man or woman shows up wearing a diaper you’ve got to figure they have a continent problem or are going through their second childhood. If your favorite article of clothing is an aluminum dunce cap you are probably out of your tree.

Most professional athletes lately dress horribly. It wasn’t always that way. Years ago team owners, managers and head coaches insisted their athletes dress as professionals – suits, ties and shoes without soles flapping. They represented their teams and cities and were expected to dress accordingly. The image of the sport depended on that so their young fans could look up to them. That feeling and responsibility went the way of the dodo bird.

Well, the good news is that the NBA has just put a ‘dress code’ into place. Commissioner David Stern decided that something had to be done about his sport’s deteriorating image. Lately many of us have been disgusted at the behavior of the multi-millionaire basketball players: climbing into the stands to fight; illegal drug and steroid use; marital abuse; and breaking society’s laws without punishment. Who do they think they are politicians?

David Stern is a big man – not in stature but the willingness to take on the spoiled, selfish and immensely rich athletes in his league. Almost all of them dress like Crips and Bloods. They think Puff Daddy is a couturier. Until now they couldn’t care less about their images – they believed they owed no responsibility to the fans and their team. They showed up to work in sloppy, inappropriate costumes – caps worn sideways, ill-fitting baggy clothes and more gold chains than Sammy Davis, Jr. ever owned.

The dress code put into place bars them from wearing sunglasses inside arenas, no flip flops – actual shoes are required, no baggy gangsta shorts, no chains and appropriate jackets and slacks. Wow. Who does the NBA think they are normal human beings? The players screamed at the news like a mouse stepped on by an elephant. Some players even suggested that the new rules were “racist.” Balderdash! (Be honest how many times have you said Balderdash in the past week?) Is it ‘racist’ to ask grown men to dress like grown men and not hip-hop thugs? I just hope the NBA doesn’t back down and enforces the new rules. Other professional sports should insist their athletes do the same.

If this catches on, it should be spread to fans. No one should be allowed to sit at a sporting even unless they are wearing a tuxedo. Nobody wearing a tux would dare spit at a player or throw a bag of peanuts at him. Instead of slugging down beers they should only be allowed to drink daiquiris. In the case of the Gay Olympics Shirley Temples will be allowed for those fans holding daffodils. Women fans would be required to wear evening gowns or cocktail dresses. Referees, officials and umpires would wear three piece suits and homburgs. I’m telling you, these new dress rules would be very popular – especially with clothing designers and over-priced clothing stores. It’d help the economy as much as a war.

While we’re at it wouldn’t it be a keen idea to insist that professional athletes learn how to speak proper English? Nah, that might be pushing it too far.

ARE YOU EMBARRASSED?

Have you ever really been embarrassed? I mean, so embarrassed that you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out….like Saddam? All of us have done dumb, stupid things that made friends and family shudder and shake their heads. Probably the most embarrassing thing the Old Geezer ever did was to get dishonorably discharged for selling black-market Cole slaw to an undercover agent.

Hey, I was a kid and drank too much rum while sailing off the coast of Tortuga. I think I was sailing off Tortuga but I might have been in a row boat on Central Park Lake. All I know is the mermaid definitely said to me, “I like the cut of your gib, Vladimir.” My name wasn’t Vladimir, but I still took it as a compliment even though I never knew I had a gib…let alone a cut one. I often ask myself what ever happened to my parrot?

Another kind of embarrassment is being fired for screwing up. Not being able to cut it on the job. That could involve goofing off, not being a team player or just being plain inept and unqualified to do the work. The entire FEMA team, during Katrina, should be raising their hands right about now. When “Brownie” heard that Katrina was a 14 – he thought that was her age.

Rotherham, England has their own candidate for the most embarrassing male in the town’s history. There have been others in Rotherham – one local green grocer once disappeared for five years and was finally found living with wheelbarrow in sin. A widow was convicted of burying 4 husbands and only two were dead. But, Buster (no last name given) was a total failure and goof-off who had to be relieved of police duties. When a cop embarrasses a town it’s not a matter to be taken lightly. Buster, a German Shepherd, could have had a great career as a British police dog had it not been for one flaw: his complete lack of interest in fighting crime.

The canine cop took early retirement after bosses at South Yorkshire Police noted his poor motivation – (there were rumors that perhaps the underworld had paid Buster off) - and a fondness for making friends with rowdy drunkards, his former handler said. The disgraced Buster, who spent six months on the beat, was drummed out of the Police and has been placed with a family in Sheffield in northern England. “He has a lack of drive and motivation when asked to do operational work. Buster would rather chase a Frisbee than a criminal. He’s just a lovely pet,” said Constable Stephenson.

Two-year old Buster performed well at the start of his 14-week training program, but his work gradually deteriorated and the problem worsened once he started patrolling the streets. Some police suspected drugs or booze when, on one occasion, Buster walked straight past a suspected criminal hiding in the garden of a house late at night and went off to cock his leg. “I searched the garden myself and found the bloke. The dog had walked past the spot where I found him,” said Stephenson. “You would have expected him to use his nose to locate him.”

During another chase Buster gave up while in mid-chase across a golf course. “He just lay down and there was nothing we could do. He has got a very low drive for finding people.” When patrolling Rotherham at pub closing times – when the streets are often crowded with drunken revelers – Buster wagged his tail when people came up to him and ate their fries, instead of deterring potential trouble makers, his former handler said. “He just showed no interest in doing the job. He had no fire in his belly.” I wouldn’t wonder after swallowing all this greasy fries.

Dear Buster was a total failure, a screw-up and an embarrassment. But he couldn’t have cared less…at his retirement ceremony he turned in his badge, gun and licked every one in sight. There will be no “CIS Rotherham” starring this crime-fighting, friendly pooch.

GET A DAY JOB.

Did you ever know someone who was totally wrong for the job he or she was doing? The flight attendant who’s afraid of heights; the surgeon who gets sick at the sight of blood; the vegetarian butcher; and the anti-Semitic rabbi are just a few examples.

You wonder why someone sticks with a job that they are totally unqualified for; George W. Bush for instance? That was a cheap joke but this is my Blog so I don’t care. Is it the dread that if they try to switch professions they won’t ever get a job? That they fear change and what it might bring? I pity those folks because they remain stuck in their trade unhappily going through the paces and not enjoying a moment of it. Rather than do something that made me so unhappy I would rather not do anything – which I’ve successfully done for forty years.

You’d think that if someone barely made a living, was denounced by clients as an incompetent idiot and boob, was the laughing stock of the profession – they’d take the hint and go into something else. Meet Michael Adam Skurdahl, 29, who better switch his line of work. He is a poster boy for incompetence, bungling, ignorance and stupidity. After watching an episode of America’s Most Wanted Criminals, Skurdahl decided he wanted to become a big-time crook. Wrong!

Could a man wearing a black wig, sunglasses and a fake mole on his cheek really be doing a corporate audit on a Wednesday night? A Rochester, Minnesota McDonald’s restaurant manager asked herself that question when a man carrying a briefcase entered through a back door. She asked him for paperwork or identification, but he kept stalling, saying he was from the corporate office. Guess, old Michael should have watched a few more episodes of America’s Most Wanted.

After about an hour and a half, the man told the manager he was robbing the place. He took her to the break room, pulled out a knife without exposing the blade. He also insisted of making her write down her name and address and give him deposit bags from the safe. The manager said he then walked out the door and ran away. Pretty slick, eh? He ran off – through a 2-foot deep river – but police caught up with Michael Adam Skurdahl. He is being charged with one count of aggravated first-degree robbery, once count of making terroristic threats and one count of felony theft. Pretty heavy stuff for a first try.

The manager became suspicious of him almost immediately. A mile he wore smeared when he rubbed it, and he said he wore sunglasses because he had his eyes dilated recently. Probably more information than she needed. He also had pink make-up on his right cheek and had placed tape on his left ear lobe, apparently to cover a piercing. Skurdahl obviously gets an “F” for make-up.

According to the amused cops they found several items on Michael or in the area where he fled: a knife, sunglasses, an open black briefcase with a McDonald’s labeled money bag, a “McFlurry” sheet with the manager’s name and address and a black Halloween wig with a pony tail. Police recovered nearly $7,000 of stolen loot in his pockets.

Skurdahl was probably absent the week any self-respectable robber would have been taught about planning a getaway. Like a car hidden in the woods or an accomplice looking nervously for police. The pony tail attached to the wig was a nice touch although they were different hair shades. The mole needed some work – next time he’d better watch a Madonna DVD to check out her un-smearable mole.

When Mr. Skurdahl get out of prison he’d better get a day job. The opening for an anti-Semitic Rabbi might still be open.

THE HELL WITH IT.....

Any adult man or women should strive to always improve their knowledge about things. The only exception to this rule would be politicians…the more they learn and the greater their knowledge the less chance they have of being elected.

Have you ever thought about going back to school? Taking classes at a local college? Expanding your mind and interests rather than remaining set in your ways? It would probably be a good thing for all of us to contemplate. I still have my college sweater, beanie and megaphone. Of course, I’ve gained a few pounds since then so can only use my college sweater as a hanky.

If I do go back to University, it’ll probably be in Rome. Vatican U. has announced a new course that really sounds like a blast. The new course is for aspiring demonologists and exorcists.

“There is no doubt that the devil is intervening more in the life of man these days,” Father Paolo Scarafoni told the students, most of them priests who want to learn how to tackle the demon if they ever encounter him. Ordinary citizens are also welcome to take the class. I mean, we have as good a chance of meeting the devil as any old priest. We’re not cloistered in some church or monastery – we’re out there among the rabble at Ralph’s and Krispy Kreame.

“Not all of you will become exorcists but it is indispensable that every priest knows how to discern between demonic possession and psychological problems,” he said. I wish I had known that before I got married. The four-month course, called “Exorcism and the Prayer of Liberation,” is being offered by Pontifical Apostolorum University on Rome’s outskirts. You may not have heard of the University because they don’t play USC or Texas. There are no cheerleaders, which is a drag, although some priests do like to dress up in mini-skirts and angora sweaters.

The about 120 students from around the world hear lectures on topics such as spiritual, theological, liturgical, medical, legal and criminological aspects of Satanism and demonic possession. The students are only fed pea soup. You even have to buy a book to study with, “Ritual for Exorcism and Prayers for Particular Circumstances.” It only comes in hard-cover and there are no pictures.

One priest from Boston, who asked not to be identified, said he decided to take the course after he had an unsettling experience while hearing the confession of one young member of his parish. “Her voice changed, her face transformed and she started speaking in a language that she did not know,” he said. When it was pointed out that the young woman might have been pissed off from losing at bingo, he had no comment.

Interest in the devil and the occult was boosted by the 1973 film “The Exorcist” and later flicks like, “The Exorcism of Emily Rose”and “The Devil Made Me Give Bad Head,” starring Paris Hilton. Some religious leaders also believe watching reality television shows are a sure way to Hell. The students will not only study these films but meet and be taught by several real-life and well-known exorcists. A featured speaker is Linda Blair.

There are a few sure ways that point to demonic possession:

When someone speaks in tongues and cannot be understood (Arnold Schwarzenegger); when their physical strength is disproportionate to their body size or age (Tanya Harding), they might be possessed by the devil.

There may be as many as 5,000 people who are thought to be members of Satan cults with 17-to-25-year-olds making up three quarters of them. Any audience at an Eninem concert proves that.

The Vatican updated its ritual for exorcism in 1999. It starts with prayers and sprinkling of holy water, the laying on of hands and making the sign of the cross. The formula begins: “I order you, Satan…” It goes on to denounce Satan as “prince of the underworld” and “enemy of human salvation.” It ends: “Go back, Satan.” If that doesn’t work a blackjack upside the head always does.

The only thing that would hold me back from sending in my tuition for this course would be if the outtakes of Paris Hilton’s video becomes available.

HE TOOK THE CASE TO A HIGHER COURT...

There are many truisms about trials: one is if a lawyer decides to represent himself in court, he has a fool for a client.

This cliché started in the 1800s when a disreputable attorney named, Bubba Goldstein, decided to represent himself against a bribery charge. During the defense part of the proceeding he actually called himself to the stand and “questioned the defendant.” He’d ask himself a question then quickly jump into the witness box to answer it. He kept himself on the stand for one week, jumping back and forth, making everyone in the courtroom totally crazy. At one point, in the trail, he refused to answer his own question citing his 5th Amendment right. The jury came back and instead of sentencing him to a possible two weeks in prison they voted the death penalty and the judge imposed it.

Another truism is that defense attorney’s always clean their clients up for the jury. No matter how violent and disgusting a defendant, his lawyer sees to it that he dresses well and is well-groomed. In the case of a male rapist/murderer they will appear in court wearing a Brooks Brother’s suit, cleanly shaven and hair combed neatly. It is true that one retarded murderer insisted on wearing rubber chicken feet along with his Brooks Brother’s pinstripe but that’s an exception. If the defendant is a woman she will always appear in a Grandma Walton dress and horned rim glasses…her hair in a bun. It seems to work especially in mob trials. I love mob trials. Sometimes, however, the goon decides to ignore his attorney’s advice and dresses how he likes. The goon is usually convicted. Vincent “the Chin” Gigante, head of the Genovese crime family in New York showed up at his trial wearing pajamas, bathrobe and slippers. The Chin, for years, claimed that he was a doddering, old senile man who couldn’t possibly be head of a crime family. When the feds had enough of Gigante’s fake performance – they charged him under the Rico Act and brought him to trial. The Chin should have won an Oscar during the trial: he never shaved, kept “falling asleep”, drooled and muttered to himself. The jury not taken in by his act convicted him and he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life in the slammer. The prosecutor’s best evidence to prove that Vincent was faking it – was showing that the Chin subscribed to the Wall Street Journal and was a member of Mensa.

I guess the Genovese family decided on a different strategy this time. Forget clothes this time. A capo in the crime family, facing a five-year jail term in a Brooklyn mob case, disappeared in the middle of his trial. Lawrence Ricci, who generally kept a low public profile, was on trial in a waterfront corruption case. Ricci, who, lists his occupation as a dairy salesman, was charged with two officials of the International Longshoreman’s Association (the same thugs from “On the Waterfront” movie) with extortion and mail and wire fraud in connection with mob domination of the New York waterfront.

The 60-year old defendant allegedly insured that a mob-tied pharmaceutical company received a lucrative union contract. Even if convicted, Lawrence Ricci only faced a five-year sentence. Hell, that’s a day in the park for a mob guy. Why would Ricci suddenly not show up for court? “I do not consider my client‘s absence to be a voluntary one,” said his wise defense attorney. He insisted that it was “entirely out of character” for his client not to show up. “We are looking for him,” said an FBI spokesman. “We still haven’t arrested him, or have him in our sights.”

There could be a logical explanation for his disappearance. Perhaps he had passes to Disneyland and plum forgot about his trail…he could have wanted to sit in the audience of an Oprah show featuring guest Tab Hunter….maybe Ricci decided to get a tattoo and the artist ran out of ink and he decided to wait….your guess is as good as mine. The judge instructed the jury in the case that they should draw no “negative inferences” from Ricci’s disappearance. The judge neglected to mention that there was a puddle of blood in Ricci’s car and his big toe attached to the steering wheel.

There is speculation that the Mafia decided that Ricci’s trial should end with an ice pick in his eye. Rumor has it that when the boys found out he had purchased a ton of bird feed they thought maybe he was going to turn into a canary.

The sad thing about Ricci not showing up is he looked so good for the jury…in his Grandma Walton pinafore.

LET THEM EAT LEFTOVERS.

Do you like leftovers? Food leftovers…not failed marriages. Why is it that some foods taste better the second or third day? Meat loaf is always better if you wait a day or two before swallowing it whole. (It should also always be served with mashed potatoes, sautéed onions and ketchup.) Stews are another food that’s better days after cooking. Why is that? You probably have your own list of dishes you can enjoy and enjoy for days.

While we’re on food: rice pudding should always contain raisins. If it doesn’t have raisins it’s as dull as kissing your own sister. Brussels Sprouts, on the other hand, never taste good…they smell even worse. If you put raisins on them it wouldn’t help. Same goes for lima beans. Do you know anyone that likes lima beans? They probably also like to watch Pauly Shore movies…..God help them. Rather than see one of those bombs I’d choose to be stuffed with lima beans and Brussels sprouts.

The reason for all the food talk is some old noodles have been found. Big deal, you say? You always eat cold spaghetti the next day. Before you grab that can of parmesan cheese – slow down. These noodles might not be so appetizing. They were found at an archaeological site in western China. The 4,000-year-old bowl of noodles – you heard right – 4,000-years old – might not even taste good after pouring some Chef Boyardee sauce on them. The noodles might also be possible proof for the argument that China invented pasta before Italy. I don’t care if Emeril Lagasse swears the Italians did – what does he know – he was born in New Jersey.

“These are definitely the earliest noodles ever found,” said a researcher with the Institute of Geology in Beijing who studied the ingredients of the preserved pasta. “Chinese people say Marco Polo (and you thought that was just an annoying game that kids shout in swimming pools) brought noodles from China back to Italy and Italians (after grabbing their crotches) claim they had noodles before that,” he added. “All this has been based on documentary material, on personal accounts and menus. But we’ve never been able to find any actual material until now.” That’s what the interpreter thinks he said but admits it also sounded like, “your shirts will be ready Friday after five o’clock.”

The fist size clump of noodles was found inside an overturned bowl under 10-feet of sediment. When researchers lifted up the bowl, they discovered the 20-inch noodles sitting atop an inverted cone of clay that had sealed the bowl, they said. The noodles were made from dough of two local varieties of millet rather than the more common wheat or rice. The dough was pulled into long strands before boiling. The region’s poorer farmers reportedly still eat millet noodles.

There are some skeptics about this archaeological find. They speculate that the 4,000-year-old noodles may have been planted at the site. Their reason is that an autographed picture of Jerry Vale was also reportedly found.

I’m not sure that I’d be brave enough to eat any of the ancient noodles…unless maybe they put some raisins on it.

SCHOOL DAZE!

Most of us have different memories of school. The lucky ones have warm memories of inspiring teachers, the desire to learn and bond with schoolmates, after-school activities…and accomplishments. Since all boys and girls spend most of their time during their formative years at school – it has a lasting effect on them – good or bad. For those of us who didn’t adjust to being thrust into an intimidating environment – our memories of school days are often unhappy. Studies have shown that most serial killers failed Algebra #1 and all got an “F” in ‘doesn’t play well with others.’

The “Geezer” hated school as much as I hated lima beans. Never adjusted to it and barely made it through. My parents were very proud that I was elected president of 6D. They never realized that 6D was the ‘slow’ class even after attending a “Parents Day” and noticing that most of the other boys and girls sat around drooling, their eyes wouldn’t blink in unison and they couldn’t tie their shoelaces. The only reason I was elected president was I was the only student who knew how to raise my hand when our teacher asked, “Who would like to be president?” One boy raised his leg but was ruled out of order.

This excursion down “Memory Lane” was caused by a recent article from Muncie, Indiana. People in Indiana take their schools very seriously and remember their little red school houses fondly. The one-room schoolhouse with the old maid teacher who devoted her life to teaching the 3-Rs. Must have been like one of those MGM movies, starring Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland and kindly old Boris Karloff as the teacher.

Anyway, residents of a southwest Muncie neighborhood believed that the 110-year-old former school with purple doors had been vacant these past 14 months. So neighbors were surprised to find out the building – is home to one of Indiana’s seven swingers clubs. Yes, Indiana has swinger clubs besides corn fields. Go figure!
“When I found out you could have knocked me off my milking machine,” one surprised resident said. “I thought it was empty, to tell you the truth,” Miss Mary, who rents a house across from the club, exclaimed. “I’m just floored. I thought all those men and women who came out with big smiles on their faces were just lookin’ for chalk or erasers.”

For those of you who only watch Jerry Falwell’s programs, swinging involves having social and sexual intercourse with someone other than a spouse, boyfriend or girlfriend. First cousins aren’t counted. Local religious leaders, many of whom stopped visiting their safe deposit boxes filled with donations from their parishioners, are vowing to shut down the 7.3000-square-foot Klub Layden, saying it could bring crime into the community. “If any one’s gonna commit moral crimes it’s gonna be us,” said Reverend Max Bialystock.

Neighbors and city officials are debating whether the residential area is the proper location for a private swingers club. One born-again preacher suggested it be moved to Hell – but was informed people like him has caused Hell to have a waiting list to get in. City laws require adult businesses to be at least 500 feet from residential areas. But, no one in the city is sure of Klub Layden is operating as an adult business or a private club.

A woman, who identified herself as a manger, explained that the club is open two-days a week and has pool tables, a dance floor, a six-person hot tub, a multiple-person shower and “sensually designed theme rooms.” She advises its members to bring their own alcohol and contraception. The club provides sheets, bathrobes and locker rooms. French ticklers are optional. An annual membership costs $25 for couples and single men and $20 for single women.

Hugh Heffner, eat your heart out. “Back home again in Indiana…….”

I LOVE MY MOM TO DEATH...

No one should be surprised that children will do anything for their parents. It’s natural and normal….unless you happen to have an abusive father or gun packing mother like “machine gun, Shirley.” Oedipus certainly loved his mother in ways that Hallmark hasn’t figured out how to celebrate with a card. The cliché is that boys have a special love for their mothers and girls for their fathers. Michael Jackson’s kids are going to be very confused since he’s both mother and father.

Parents have a huge responsibility to protect, support, encourage, cherish and defend their progeny. It’s a tough job because many kids are contrary, spoiled and stupid. Some smart man once told me that, “no where it is written that a parent has to love a child or a child love a parent.” History is clogged with parents and children who have disagreed to disastrous results. Attila the Hun’s oldest boy “Arthur the Tree-Hugger” disappointed his criminally insane dad when instead of carrying on the family tradition of ‘pillage and rape’ became a florist.

There were others. Pro football player Bronco Nagurski wanted his boy to follow in his size 13-E footsteps and bought him a genuine Chicago Bear’s football helmet for his 12th birthday. “Orville” Nagurski who was a tiny bit light in his ballet slippers took the helmet and turned it into a planter. Bronco was so upset that he ran off with a circus pinhead. That way Bronco didn’t have to buy his new baby boy and helmet, just a thimble.

The most heart warming story recently about true mother/son love is from Marseille, France. As you know, in many European countries it’s quite normal for an unmarried, adult son to live at home with his parents. And, why not? They are coddled, taken care of and don’t even have to make their beds. The family is more important than independence and getting your own bachelor pad with velvet Elvis’s on the wall and hot and cold running nymphs.

This tradition of living with a mother or dad can be taken too far, once in awhile. A French man in his sixties still lives with his mother. He couldn’t imagine not spending quality time with Mamma. But, that was the problem – he lived for five years with the body of his dead mother. Can you imagine the dull conversations at the dinner table? No arguments on what to watch on TV. He never was yelled at for not picking up his underwear from the floor. This guy had it made in the shade.

It turns out that the reason he kept living with his deceased mother was not true love – turns out that he did it in order to keep receiving her 700 euros monthly pension, judicial sources reported. Why the hell didn’t he bury the old broad and still claim that she was alive? If any nosy official checked, he could have donned a white wig and rubbed smelly cheese on himself…that would have fooled the bureaucrat.

Living with a dead person for five years? I realize many marriages are about as exciting but still…….

The Frenchy weirdo is a hospital morgue worker. No wonder he wasn’t bothered…when he got home it was like a day at the office. He’s to be prosecuted for fraud and concealing a death after the police found the corpse in the two-room apartment among piles of rubbish…including her.

Police went to the flat because of unpaid rent and other bills. His mother had died of natural causes at the age 94. Thank God she didn’t live to see how crazy her son became in the last five years. It would have killed her.

YOUR MONEY OR YOUR UNDERWEAR....

Criminals are interesting and fascinating characters for many people. Think Dillinger, Bonnie & Clyde, Willie Sutton and Ken Lay. The normal law-abiding citizen must get a vicarious thrill when they read about law breakers. Would we have the guts or mind-set to pull off a major heist or do something else illegal? Probably not…we’d be too scared, afraid of violence and who would want to wear those ugly, baggy orange prison jump suits to court?

Of course many average men and women break the law regularly or at least attempt to. How many times have you parked in a 30-minute spot for longer? Most people, if they were honest, try to fudge on their income tax. How about finding some money in a parking lot and not turning it over to the cops? Driving over the speed limit is a no-brainer. So, the difference between us and a professional criminal is what laws we choose to obey and which we try to take advantage of.

There are different types of criminals: white collar, blue collar, no collar and violent predators who none of us could imagine becoming in our wildest dreams. Some of us think white collar crime isn’t very important compared to a serial killer or rapist. Try telling that to the poor people who were ‘raped’ of their life savings by Enron executives. Buying a possible ‘hot’ television from some guy out of the back of his car is against the law but do any of us break into a sweat at the thought of it? I confess to being greedy enough to think I was buying a hot Rolex watch from some character who swore it was a fantastic bargain at $75. I should have known it was too good to be true. The guy’s name was Frenchy and he wore spats. When I got home I realized it wasn’t a Rolex but a genuine Roldex with painted on hands. There are no bargains unless you shop at 99-cent stores.

As everybody in law enforcement will tell us – all criminals are stupid. That’s why most of them wind up in jail. Unless you were retarded why would you want to spend years behind bars, eating crappy food, being ordered about all the time and rooming with a hoodlum who wants you to be his fiancée?

Since we can agree that crooks are dumb - meet Nickos George Kopsaftis of Cottonwood, Arizona. This genius was just booked into the county jail on two counts of burglary and two counts of attempted theft. Nickos tried to burglarize a home while naked and stopped in mid-escape to ask the victim for a pair of shorts. Why not a tuxedo as long as he was at it? The victim threw the shorts to the accused burglar, who then fled, said a spokesperson for Yavapai country sheriff’s Department.

Our latter day Robin Hood was later arrested next door, apparently while trying to steal a car. “He was wearing the borrowed shorts but nothing else.” A man house-sitting for his father found Kopsaftis standing naked in an upstairs room holding two rifles belonging to the homeowner. “He seemed very surprised when I interrupted him but not as surprised as I was. He wasn’t even circumcised.”

The victim got the rifles away from Nickos, who ran away, but not before stopping outside to ask for a pair of shorts. “He didn’t seem to be interested in their color. Anything would do.” When deputies arrived, they found a pair of wet socks and a pair of wet pants with Kopsaftis’s wallet and ID inside. A banging sound next door led deputies to a car which he was trying to hot-wire. With what, his jockey shorts?

When I hear a story like this – I don’t worry too much about brilliant criminals waiting to steal my Brooklyn Dodger baseball cards.

PEANUTS, POPCORN......

Are you one of those kind-hearted people who constantly bring strays into your home? Someone who never met a dog, cat, bird, turtle or relative that they didn’t like? Is your theme song in life “Me casa es su casa”? I’ve got to say I envy you. Sadly, I’m one of those creeps who doesn’t like many strangers or even people I know well. Some have called me a cantankerous, shallow, miserable, ill-mannered, petulant, misanthrope…and they were my mother and father.

I just have never been comfortable opening my home to others. My wife and six children don’t even have the address of my house. That’s not true but only because I’m not married and don’t have any kids. I, do, however have a double-chin but that doesn’t count.

The reason for all these nosy questions is a notice, I saw, asking folks to adopt a pet. Many of you are probably raising your hands and Doris Day…raising her voice. The most interesting thing about these pets is they don’t have to be housebroken because they won’t fit into your home. Not even Donald Trump could offer one of his palaces…or ex-wife’s mansion to house these needy pets. When she finds out Ivana Trump is going to cry her botox eyes out.

You have to pass a rigid test in order to qualify as an adopted parent to one of these needy animals. Not just anyone can own an elephant especially New Yorkers. I mean, you couldn’t get the darn thing in your elevator. The Ayutthaya Elephant Farm near Bangkok, Thailand is selling about 20 elephants between the ages of 1 and 3 years. I can just hear some of the Geezer’s challenged readers asking, Elephant Farm? Didn’t know you could grow elephants?

Prices start at $48,700 apiece for the beasts which are well-bred (they never fart in mixed company), well-behaved and a source of luck. Now you’re talking…some Vegas casino should buy one and give it to Seigfried & Roy as a pet. There are conditions attached. Only animal-loving Thai nationals boasting bank accounts of at least $243,300 can buy the pachyderms, and potential owners must have sufficient space for the beasts to exercise and mud holes where they can cool off.

Admit it, how many of you have mud holes on your property? Owners will also be tested on their elephant know-how three months after their purchase to ensure their seriousness. I would have thought the 48 grand would be seriousness enough. No way, flunk the test and the farm will buy the animal back from you. I wonder if they’d get a discount – it being a used elephant.

“It is not easy to raise elephants,” said the Farm’s director. They are difficult to hold in your lap and probably not very good at fetching the daily newspaper - eat it, yes...fetch it, no. “According to an old saying, only those who have great prestige and merit can raise them.” Also very large pooper-scoopers! “Post-sale service” will be provided, including the provision of a mahout – a traditional elephant trainer – and victuals to a pachyderms taste. No snacking on candy or Fritos allowed….you wouldn’t want to be near one of these beasts with diarrhea.

The elephant is the de facto national animal of Thailand, and once graced the nation’s flag. The elephant was replaced with Britney Spears. The sale of wild elephants is forbidden by law, but the Dumbos for sale are domesticated, the offspring of an “elephant wedding” held several years ago. Wonder if the bride wore white?

There are about 140 elephants, including calves, at the Elephant Farm, where the animals put on shows and give rides to tourists. The owner of the farm didn’t explain why they were for sale but rumors abound that he was a major stockholder in Enron.

A NOBEL PRIZE FOR WHAT?

Do you have a resume? I mean, have you put one together describing accomplishments you’ve achieved during your life? It’s great fun to create one and try not to exaggerate things. Telling the truth or putting down actual events in your life can sometimes be as dull as having lunch with a linoleum salesman.

I have to confess that my resume contains some big whoppers. I claim to have earned a doctorate of de nova with honors. There are no doctorates of de nova – which means starting over – but not many people know that. Besides, some kids in a school yard once shouted “duck” to me as a line drive was heading for my head. “Duck”, “Doc”, they sound similar so what’s the big deal?

But, can you imagine Gregg Miller’s surprise and happiness to be honored with a Nobel Prize for medicine? It’s not the Nobel Prize given in Sweden every year. This Nobel Prize is the “Ig” Nobel Prize given at Harvard University by “Annals of Improbable Research magazine.” It’s awarded to celebrate the humorous, creative and odd side of science. Let’s not split hairs: Gregg Miller can rightly call himself a Nobel Prize winner which should be good for a free Slurpee at any Dairy Queen.

Here is what Miller invented. It all started with Gregg’s Rottweiler named, Max, about ten years ago. It turns out that Max was neutered and was rather embarrassed by his look. Other un-neutered male dogs would tease Max and claim that he was a sissy and didn’t have the balls for a fight. Max became very depressed and thought about overdosing on kibble.

Gregg really cared about Max’s insecurity and decided to something about it. He mortgaged his home and maxed out his credit cards to mass produce his invention – prosthetic testicles for neutered dogs. What started 10 years ago with an experiment on an unwilling Rottweiler turned into a thriving mail-order business. Recently Miller’s efforts earned him the “Ig” Nobel Prize for medicine.
The modest prize winner said, “Considering my parents thought I was an idiot when I was a kid, this is a great honor. I wish they were alive to see it.”

Mr. Miller has sold more than 150,000 of his Neuticles”, more than doubling his $500,000 investment. The silicone implants come in different sizes, shapes, weights and degrees of firmness. The product’s Web site says “Neuticles” allow a pet “to retain his natural look” and “self esteem.” So the next time you see a Doberman or Boxer prancing around looking for a fight he well may be wearing Gregg’s false balls…and no one would be the wiser.

Although the “Ig” Nobels are not exactly prestigious, many recipients are, like Miller, happy to win. “Most scientists – no matter what they’re doing, good or bad – never get any attention at all,” said Marc Abrahams, editor of the Annals of Improbable Research. Personally the Old Geezer thinks these often whacky mad scientists should be rewarded for their interesting work.

Benjamin Smith of the University of Adelaide in Australia, who won the biology prize, actually nominated his own work. (Don’t you think that Oscar nominees pay for ads promoting themselves?) “I’ve been a fan of the Ig for a while,” he said. Smith’s team studied and catalogued different scents emitted by more that 100 species of frogs under stress. Some smelled like cashews, while others smelled like licorice, mint and rotten fruit. He recalled getting strange looks when he’d show up at zoos asking to smell the frogs. “I’ve been turned away at the gate many times,” he said. Yet the plucky scientist kept his nose to the grindstone a frog’s behinds.

This year’s other Ig Nobel winners include:
PHYSICS: Since 1927, researchers at the University of Queensland in Australia have been tracking a glob of congealed black tar as it drips through a funnel – at a rate of one drop every nine years. And thank God they do.

PEACE: Two researchers at Newcastle University in England monitored the brain activity of locusts as they watched clips from the movie “Star Wars.” I eagerly await the results of this test and what will happen when the locusts are shown My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

CHEMISTRY: An experiment at the University of Minnesota was designed to prove whether humans can swim faster or slower in syrup than in water. Want to hazard a guess?

I applaud all the winners and have just order my own set of Neuticles – extra large and extra firm - along with a prosthetic right nostril.

A POLITICIAN WHO BARES HIS SOUL.

It’s not often that a politician honors a promise. That’s why they make so many – figuring that voters won’t remember what they said which is most often blather and doubletalk. Gobbling turkeys are more easily understood than the fools who run for office.

Telling untruths is as natural to office seekers as Joan Rivers’ denial that she had her face lifted…and lifted…and lifted. She needs a heavy mechanical lift to raise her chin. Politicians love to huff and puff in front of microphones and shamelessly promise things that are so outrageous they would drive buzzards off a road kill.

History is replete with lies from famous political figures. Andrew Jackson used to love to say he would never stonewall. Benjamin Franklin was quoted as he flew his kite while holding a house key in a thunder storm, “Momma Mia, I hope my rubber diaper works this time.” Teddy Roosevelt often boasted that he carried a big stick and a small carrot especially during a full moon. The truth is that he carried a plate of succotash and an eagle #2 pencil. The point is never believe anything politicians say or promise.

I am happy to report that in Wellington, New Zealand a politician actually is going to stand by a pledge. Fellow lawmakers are furious at Keith Locke for promising to honor his word. They are afraid that voters might expect all of them to be truthful and if that happens then there’s no point to getting elected anymore. One of the great perks for running and winning an election is that no one really expects you to tell the truth or believe anything you say. Well, thank goodness that legislator Locke, the Green Party’s foreign affairs spokesman said he didn’t want to break an election promise.

Keith Locke was sure that rightist Act Party leader Rodney Hide couldn’t win a parliamentary seat in the Aukland suburb of Epsom that he bet his “Johnson”. Regarded an outsider with no chance, Hide romped home in the contest with a 3,200-vote majority. Many pundits believe Hide’s election was due to Locke’s outrageous pre-election promise. The Green Party lawmaker promised to run naked through the streets if his rival was successful.

Voters are very excited about the promised nude dash. Nothing this exciting has happened in New Zealand since a bad ass sheep broke into the Aukland Opera House and performed all of Tiny Tim’s hit songs. A local business group, the Newmarket Business Association, is helping pave the way for the lawmaker’s run down Broadway, which is “a straight and wide strip – ideal for such exposure,” said Cameron Brewer, the group’s general manager. “We choose not to hold the run on a street with curves and turns since we didn’t want any un-necessary swinging and swaying,” he continued.

“When Mr. Locke is ready, the…association will warn the faint-hearted, clear the footpath on Broadway…ensure there are the necessary officials, and provide a much-needed loincloth if Keith gets too excited,” Brewer said.

“We haven’t set a date, we’ve got preparations to do in terms of choreography,” Locke said. “It will be artistic and it will involve body paint.” In other words Keith Locke is going to hire the local Bob Fosse and the top spray paint tagger. Can he be thinking of renting out his body for commercial plugs? Condoms would be a natural sponsor. HBO is considering televising the naked dash with George Foreman doing commentary.

If this stunt works look for it to make its way in American politics. Imagine Teddy Kennedy streaking bare-assed through Harvard or Orin Hatch dancing the cha-cha-cha in his birthday suit at the Mormon Tabernacle. I can’t wait.

BARTENDER KEEP IT COMING.....

If all the money and technology used to develop useless and stupid new inventions were laid end to end they wouldn’t come close to what Heidi Fleiss did on a holiday weekend. I have no idea what that last statement meant – obviously the Old Geezer is losing his rant.

All my non-sequiturs aside if industry, governments, universities and some smart geeks devoted their time to solving and improving the world’s problems like: peace, hunger, birth control, the eradication of diseases, global warming, freedom…and why people watch reality television – we’d all be better off.

A news item out of Berlin caught my attention. Berlin, as you probably know is in Germany - a country famous for lederhosen, Anti-Semitism, expensive cars and fat opera singers. For many years, lots of Jew-haters thought Irving Berlin was a section of Berlin to be avoided at all cost. I digress again. My anti-digressing medicine is not working.

A new idiotic device has been invented by students Matthias Hahnen and Robert Doerr for a project at the University of Saarbruecken in southwest Germany. Why a university sanctioned a project like this one is as bewildering as why Germanic people think dueling scars are badges of honor – especially in women – and why the German national bird is a Wiener Schnitzel?

These two mentally challenged students invented something sure to become popular with non-stop beer drinkers of which there are millions in Deutschland. The boys invented a beer mat that drinkers can place under their glass which will cut down on time wasted ordering refills. Matthias and Robert’s mat can tell when a glass is empty. After swilling down beer for six hours a “swillee” might not be able to see his empty glass let alone the bartender.

The coaster, fitted with sensors, measures the weight of the beer and sends a signal behind the bar when it’s time for a refill. Anxious alcoholics can also attract the attention of staff by waving the plastic mat, thanks to a motion sensor. The inventive students are also considering the possibility that when the boozer waves the plastic mat and doesn’t get the attention of the bartender fast enough…a U-2 rocket will immediately launch and kill the bartender. Some may think that a tad rash but “ven I vant a beer, I vant a beer.”

The device has attracted the attention of beer vendors in North America, including a leading Canadian brewer who produces the beer, “Eh?” in bottles and on tap, according to Michael Schmitz, one of the supervisors of the project. “They wanted to know if they could use it or make it themselves,” he said. “The prototype cost about 84 euros, or $100, to make one, but if mass produced, it could be done for around 10 euros.

I don’t know about you but I’m pretty darn excited about this beer mat. If the technology spreads out it can be used in many other applications – not just for drunken German bums. Starbucks, for instance, could use it for refills of their lattes or other over-priced java. If you went to a McDonald’s you wouldn’t have to wave or throw a soggy French fry at the mental pygmy behind the counter in order to get another fattening order which will clog your arteries and cause an instant stroke.

There is no end to the possibilities. The technology could be used at home. If you wanted to hear more kvetching from your mate or children you could do so without even raising your voice or getting off your barca-lounger. If you still had a problem performing after taking a Viagra – one wave and a monster erection would appear that could have kept the levees in New Orleans shored up for Katrina.

I’m going to e-mail old Matthias and Robert at Saarbrueken and try to get the American franchise. I wonder if the university of Saarbrueken is on AOL?

THE DOG DAYS OF DRIVING.....

Auto makers are shameless hucksters. In order to sell cars they offer rebates, employee discounts, family discounts – even of you don’t have a family – if you know someone’s aunt – you qualify. What they don’t publicize is that they’ve jacked up the price of the vehicle to cover their sales ‘deal.’ Car companies are as honest as Iranian rug salesmen.

Progress is a wonderful thing unless it’s used by live human beings. Automobile manufactures aren’t doing a very good job of developing safe and efficient cars. Recalls are more common than the cold. When the government tells Ford, GM, Nissan, or any of the other car makers, that some of their vehicles aren’t safe and drivers might be blown out through the roof when the car starts...the auto manufactures reluctantly fix the problem. It’s either fix the problem or make crash helmets standard with each car purchased.

It’s long been known that Ford, GM and Chrysler could put out really fuel efficient cars and ones that were really safe but were reluctant to do so because it might boost the cost of manufacturing. Cut into their profit margin. There is no reason that today’s automobiles don’t get 30 to 40 miles per gallon. The technology is there, it’s just not being used. If it was then they couldn’t count on cars falling apart after three or four years, forcing consumers to have to go into hock to buy a new model. It’s called planned obsolescence and is the hallmark of car makers all over the world.

Honda is one of the few auto makers that’s been experimenting with new, unusual models that might appeal to car owners. I’m not talking about hybrids or cars that run on karaoke music…or sushi. This is even more diabolical. Honda has designed a car that’s friendly for dogs – no it doesn’t rub the dog’s belly to get its legs to go crazy – it’s part of the Japanese automaker’s ongoing effort to create vehicles that are easy to use, comfortable to ride in…and simple to steal.

The W.O.W Concept, which stands for “wonderful openhearted wagon,” is an exhibition model that will be exhibited at the Tokyo auto show later this month. A special crate in the glove compartment allows owners to interact with their pets while driving. Throwing a Frisbee and expecting the dog to chase it is frowned upon in traffic. This glove compartment ‘crate’ is obviously for smaller dogs and wouldn’t work for the family mastiff.

A bigger crate pops up from the floor in the back seat area and can be folded back into the floor when it’s not needed. It’s recommended that you remove “Spot” before folding it back. For even bigger dogs, just buckle them up with a special seat belt to the floor. Talk about a funny picture – a Lab buckled into a seat belt, smoking a cigarette and reading the New York Times. Amazing isn’t it – most parents couldn’t care less or forget to buckle their kids into car seats but probably will for the family pooch.

The big danger for pets riding along in cars is that they get thrown out during a crash especially if they have a walkman on their heads and aren’t paying attention. About a fifth of Japanese households have a dog, and demand is growing for cars that cater to man’s best friend, according to Honda. I always thought man’s best friend was a comely masseuse.

“We created this vehicle from the point of view of a dog,” said Honda designer Katsuhito Nakamura. Instead of a “new car” smell it smells like another dog’s ass. The dashboard is made out of kibble and there’s room for poochie to circle before sitting down. Pooper scoopers will be offered as optional equipment.

I applaud Honda for trying a new way to market their cars. But, wouldn’t it be even better if they – along with the others – spent their time and money putting out affordable, safe, fuel-efficient automobiles and stop worrying about the family bitch?

HAD ANY SEX LATELY?

This one could ruin the Ranting Old Geezer. But as your intrepid reporter I’m willing to brave the criticism and even go to jail to protect my sources. Judith Miller isn’t the only Judith Miller.

Anyone not at least 18-years old must stop reading immediately. I expect poison pen letters and shrill accusations that I’m a women hater. These insults will roll off the Old Geezer’s back like water off a newly simonized car

The following conclusions are not mine (tee-hee), they are the results of a year-old survey of over 11,000 men and women aged 16-44. The research was carried out in Britain by scientists interested in human sex drive.

Don’t know about you but I’m very interested in the sex drive. I try to keep my sex drive in top working condition, see that it’s waxed and polished regularly; and is never used in inclement weather.

The main conclusion of the study found the sex drive of women plummets sharply as they juggle increasing demands of partners, children and careers. One in 10 women admitted losing interest in sex for at least six months in the past year. “The next major problem was the inability to have an orgasm. That was reported by 4% of women,” said Dr. Catherine Mercer of University College London.

There’s more but let’s recap: Women’s sex drive goes down as soon as they are faced with responsibility; they lose interest in sex for 6-months at a time; and suffer from the inability to have a climax. These Brit scientists could have saved money and time if they had just gotten a few married men together and asked them, “How’s your sex life.” “What’s that mate?” would have been a normal reply.

“Married women were shown much more likely than single men or women to have sexual problems,” she continued. In other words if a man expects a normal, healthy sex life he shouldn’t get married and just date single girls who don’t know how a toaster works…or buy a blow-up doll named, “Ginger.” Otherwise it’s ‘cold-shower’ time for most of us.

The survey showed that both sexes tend to suffer in silence when faced with sexual problems like lack of sex drive, premature ejaculation or erectile dysfunction. Would you expect some schmuck to stand on a street corner and yell, “I can’t get it up anymore and I’m proud of it”? “My fat husband hasn’t caused me to have an orgasm since the Wright Brothers flew at Kitty Hawk. And then I would have to think of Wilbur to get one.”

54% of women and 35% of men have problems but fewer than 11% of men and 21% of women seek help, according to the survey published in the journal “Sexually Transmitted Infections.” Everyone who subscribes to the journal “Sexually Transmitted Infections” raise your hand?

Be truthful, if someone knocked on your door and introduced themselves as a representative from “Sexually Transmitted Infections” would you welcome them in your home and serve them a cup of Ovaltine? You’d first yell, FEH! then set your pit bull on the sicky while you sandblasted the doorknob that he or she touched.

For both men and women, their first sexual encounter could be crucial to their future attitude toward sex. What that means gentlemen is that you should check out a female’s history with men before you even shake her hand. Women should be forced to take lie-detector tests if they want to see a guy more than once. “The worse the experience, the more difficulty they will have in later life.” Duh! My ex-wife never told me, when she was sixteen, she had a traumatic experience with a cole slaw salesman and couldn’t climax unless you waved a corned-beef sandwich in front of her.

“A lot of women are very active sexually in the first 18-months to three years of a relationship and have a lot of spontaneous sexual desire. But then it goes quicker than a Kenyan runner in a marathon. ,” said Dr. David Goldmeirer from St. Mary’s Hospital in London.

I’m sure you’re happy the Ranting Old Geezer brought these facts to your attention. As for the Geezer, I’m going to think hard about these results and then… join a Gay Men’s choir.

GO COLD TURKEY!

Have you ever tried to change a life long habit? How about a behavior that’s so ingrained in you that it’s become part of your psyche? It’s the toughest thing to do. Many people have addictive personalities which make the task of changing damn near impossible.

I must confess that for years I have been trying to stop a habit which is disturbing to others….and makes me clinically insane. It’s all about why I find it comforting to carry a veal parmigiana around in my wallet? I’ve tried for years to break myself of that habit – even substituting something less fattening for the veal – but it didn’t work.

“I’m hooked”…how often have we heard someone say that? “I tried and was able to stop for a while but then my cravings started and went right back doing it. It drove me to drink,” which is not a good thing for someone trying to give up the booze. People are addicted to smoking, drinking, gambling, shoplifting, over-eating and a few lucky ones to….sex. By far the toughest habit to give up is smoking. That’s why I was so impressed when I found out it could be done after 16-years of non-stop smoking.

This poor smoker was living in a safari park in China’s Shaanxi province. She had taken up smoking in 1989 shortly after her mate died. If that wasn’t sad enough, she became a chain smoker after her second mate died in 1997. Who can blame her? Things got even worse when her daughter was moved to another zoo. Yes, “Ai-Ai” the chimpanzee was never seen without a cigarette in her hand. Her fingers had that yellow, nicotine stain so unattractive in a woman. No wonder she’s having a difficult time attracting a new mate. Stained fingers, smoker’s cough, feh! Her record as a black widow might have something to do with it, also.

Her keepers decided to have an intervention with “Ai-Ai” and get her to stop smoking. Worried about her declining health, they weaned 27-year old off tobacco by distracting her with entertainment and a tastier diet. The zoo keepers tried every way to divert the chimp’s attention from cigarettes: a walk after breakfast, a music session after lunch (she learned to play a tree stump) and gym after dinner. When things got really rough they gave her pedicures.

“Ai-Ai”also got fried dishes and dumplings, as well as the usual diet of milk, bananas and rice. “I also put earphones on her so that she could enjoy some pop music from my walkman,” said one of the keepers. “In the first few days, she squealed for cigarettes every now and then, but as her life became more colorful she gradually forgot about them altogether,” he continued.

No one knows who had first given cigarettes to her or kept her supplied. Suspicion abounds that one of China’s cigarette manufacturers was responsible…possibly wanting “Ai-Ai” as a spokesperson for the brand.

There is a lesson to be learned here. If you want to really give up your cigarette habit start eating dumplings along with your bananas and learn to play a tree stump. Pop music also helps but under no condition begin listening to rap. If you do cigar smoking can’t be too far away.

If this brave chimp can quit so can you. Just say, “No.” My hat’s off to “Ai-Ai” and I’m glad she got her five minutes of fame even though she can’t tell time.

PIGS ARE NOT ALL COPS.

Being a police officer is not for the weak of heart…or bowels. It’s a tough, often unappreciated, dangerous and underpaid job. Cops will tell you that they spend lots of their time eating stale donuts, filling out endless paper work, getting hassled by angry citizens and only occasionally can enjoy themselves by beating the crap out of some innocent suspect. Cops are the only people who, when they go to work each day, don’t know if they will return home alive…except for NBA referees. I’m being factitious as well as subsultus and psalmist.

Question: If you watch the television series COPS or any news footage of real crimes – what’s the first thing that happens when a patrol car pulls up to a possible crime scene? The cop gets out of his car and pulls out…….? A flashlight! Why? I’d pull out my gun and start firing before my patrol car stopped. It’s crazy. A flashlight!? Do all of them have bad eyesight and can’t see? Even if it’s noon on a bright, sunny day – out comes the flashlight. If you know the answer please send a self-addressed envelope to The Ranting Old Geezer c/o: Pluto.

The Santa Cruz, California Sheriff’s department has a unique and very dangerous situation on their hands…and feet. They have tried numerous times to evict Christian Canabou (he sounds like an animal that one hunts in Finland) from his home, but he always flees when they arrive. It would seem if the cops stopped pulling out their flashlights and yanked out their pistols and shot Canabou when he started to run…the problem would be resolved. But, noooooooooooooooo!

Christian who is facing eviction from his Boulder Creek home continues to elude authorities. Obviously Santa Cruz needs speedier sheriffs on their force in order to catch the high-flying Canabou. He has a gun-moll in his home who also wreaks havoc for the authorities when they show up. Kate – a 200-pounder takes great pleasure in attacking the sheriffs as soon as their flashlights leave their patrol units. Getting Christian and Kate to leave the property hasn’t been an easy task. Desperate and battle-weary sheriffs have asked animal control for their help.

Kate is a tough, no-nonsense young woman. Neighbors have complained to authorities that she is a nuisance and they are afraid of her. They want her removed from the area. The police have tried to talk sense to Kate but her only response has been to attack them. She obviously is willing to protect Canabou to the death. Kate is his pet – 200 pounds of pet…a pig.

“This pig is as aggressive as a Hell’s Angel even though she looks better than most of them,” sheriff’s Sgt. Fred Plageman said. “It’s supposed to be a domesticated pig, but on past occasions it has chased deputies around and chewed up parts of a patrol car.” So much for “domesticated.” She’s meaner than a Ho who has been stiffed after performing fellatio on a street lamp.

Deputies again tried to evict Canabou the other day but found only the pig and beat a hasty retreat. “Hell, that porky looked me right in the eye and laughed,” said one of the deputies. It’s a pretty sad day for Santa Cruz when its sheriffs have to throw up their flashlights and beg animal control to save them.

“The rumor is that every time sheriffs go up there, the owner runs into the woods and the attack pig goes into action,” said Mike McFarland, general manager of Santa Cruz County Animals Services. “To be totally honest, we don’t really want to try and take custody of 200-pound Kate. She scares us shitless.”

The lesson to be learned in all this – forget your average Doberman and German Shepherd guarding your property just call “Shouuuuey.” A mean pig is better and more reliable than any house alarm system ever made.

IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT.....

Some cities and towns are so desperate to make a name that they do stupid things in order to get publicity for themselves. They hope that the event will get lots of free publicity and bring in needed business and tourists. Bipus, Indiana once held a big-time Siamese-twin competition. No one showed up except two drunken guys tied to each other with gaffer tape. A kibbutz in Israel put on a “Cohen-the-Barbarian” festival. A small village in Hawaii held a karaoke contest only for mutes. Fortunately, the audience was made up of lepers so there was no applause.

With the tax base of many small towns shrinking faster than Billy Barty’s shmeckle, it’s understandable that they pull out all stops to make a few extra bucks. Lajas, Puerto Rico is a sleepy hamlet that has decided to build a UFO landing strip to welcome other-worldly visitors. The citizens of Lajas are convinced that they have had many visits from UFOs recently. Of course, the consumption of rum and tequila in this hamlet could float Australia.

A bright green sign along a lonely country road in southwestern Puerto Rico proudly displays a silhouette of a flying saucer and two words: “Extraterrestrial Route.” Most Puerto Ricans laughed when a horse farmer installed the sign on his property at the request of Reynaldo Rios, a local elementary school teacher who says he’s been communicating with alien visitors to this U.S. territory since he was a child. Reynaldo has doubters in the community since he’s known for baking his head in a micro-wave for hours at a time.

Rios, a 39-year old with a goatee and a shock of dark hair, won’t be ignored. With the blessing of a local government desperate for tourist dollars, he’s dedicated himself to building the UFO landing strip. Lajas Mayor Marcos Irizarry’s support for the idea has provoked outrage among Islanders who complain it would be a waste of money at a time when the government is faced with a staggering fiscal deficit. Irizarry quickly clarified that his municipal government would not invest in the project. Instead, he has promised to help Rios get the proper building permits. The mayor insists his goal is to attract tourists to his small town…even if they are green, shiny ones.

The mayor admits to be among Lajans who believe they have seen UFOs in the area. It was either UFOs…or Nash Ramblers. “It’s a very mysterious place,” said Irizarry, who says he once saw red lights zigzagging the hills. “A lot of people have seen things.” Francisco Negron, the farmer who put up the sign and allows UFO watchers to gather at his ranch, volunteered his property for the landing strip. He and Rios estimate the project might cost up to $100,000…or a best offer whichever comes first. Negron believes a UFO crashed on one of his hills in 1999. He claims he heard a boom and saw the hill go up in flames. He also claims that he once ran in the Kentucky Derby where he finished out of the money.

Rios, who leads a group called “UFO International” that holds nighttime vigils to search for alien life. If they don’t find any they are happy to just look in women’s windows hoping to spot some flesh.

A little known aerostat off the Extraterrestrial Route inspires UFO lore in Lajas. U.S. military uses the aerostat, a tethered blimp with a radar system, to detect low-flying smuggling planes. Rios and others don’t believe that. They are convinced that the aerostat’s true purpose is to detect UFOs. He swears he was once briefly detained while trying to touch the aerostat. The military police detained him because they say he was caressing and kissing it and was dressed in a pinafore. Rios says he first encountered aliens at 13. He says white lights burst into his bedroom, entered his body and cured him of hives he had received during a basketball game.

“If we have the technology to reach the moon, there could be others who have the technology to come here,” said Ronaldo Barea, 26, a sandwich shop owner. “Look at the Bulgarians.”