HOW TO SELL FOR FUN & PROFIT.

Merchandizing and promotion is often the key to whether a product makes money for its manufacturer. There’s an old saying, “If they don’t know it’s there, they ain’t gonna break down your door to buy it.” The author of that ungrammatical statement is now head of the FEMA office in Antarctica. The point however is a good one. Many products that are lousy or grotesque make millions for smart entrepreneurs who promotes the hell out of it. Do lava lamps, mood rings and the Chia Pet ring a bell? Who in their right mind would buy some idiotic clay face that grows grass when watered? Does anyone really need a grassy face that looks like Elmer Fudd? The answer is obviously No…so how come the inventor of the Chia Pet now lives on his own Island in the Caribbean?

Before I go on, if any of you are interested in buying a Chia Pet I have 169 for sale. Okay, so I’m a sucker when it comes to Elmer Fudd. Not withstanding my inability to pass on some useless piece of junk that is offered on Cable TV late at night, the key to selling anything is its promotion. Oh, by the way, I also have 203 Jim Nabor’s Christmas albums for sale. You haven’t lived until you hear Gomer Pyle singing, “I Saw Momma Kissing Santa Claus.”

A store in Augusta, Maine has made headlines with its latest promotion. The owner, Felicia Stockford is obviously a brilliant merchandiser and deserves some recognition for her latest exciting sales idea. Other neighboring stores have been kvetching because of the crowd’s flocking to Spellbound’s front windows. Window shopping has been taken to a new level in Augusta. “It’s tainting the wholesome businesses down here,” complained the owner of Video Game Exchange. “I think it’s selfish and I think it’s morally reprehensible,” she went on. This from a person who sells adult videos like: “Lickity Splits, Beaver Patrol and One Hung Low.”

Other merchants like Spellbound’s newest promotion. “It’s like a New York thing. It’s urban. It’s edgy,” said Stacy Gervais, founder of a downtown merchants group. “We need a shtick – something we do that attracts people and gets us remembered.” A few complaints have been phoned in to the police department but they say there is nothing illegal about Spellbound’s promotion.

The entire hullabaloo is because Spellbound, a lingerie store is grabbing attention with live models in the window. Yes, young, attractive women are standing around and posing in the latest, chic lingerie. What better way to sell sexy, underwear than having chicks model it? Men from all over Augusta, Maine have suddenly become window shopping mavens. They stand there all day with open, dribbling mouths watching the girls strut their stuff. A few have even entered the store to buy. When they found out the girls weren’t for sale – just the lingerie – they left with their tails between their legs.

Owner Felicia Stockford said she had no trouble finding staffers. She said the young women enjoyed posing in the shop window. Actually sales at the store have jumped higher than a nudist backing into a cactus.

This fabulous idea might catch on with other store owners. Instead of using mannequins the local gun shop might have customers recreating Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. A karate studio could have students crashing through the front window and landing unconscious at your feet. This could start a trend.

Oh, if you happen to be in the market for some slightly soiled Nehru jackets give me a call.

DEARLY BELOVED.....

Have you lost something recently? I’m not talking about weight or hair I mean something or someone close to you? If some of you have recently gotten a divorce wipe that smile off you face I’m also not talking about happy event. I’m referring to a dear family member or close friend getting a person-to-person call from the Grim Reaper.

Death some say is part of life. It’s inevitable. So is stomach gas but who needs either one? Most of us spend too much time worrying about our mortality. I’m a believer in the philosophy, “It’s not that I’m afraid to die. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” There are two things we’re sure of, death and taxes. Now if we could get them in that order! Hundreds and hundreds of books, plays, poems, movies and articles are written about death and dying every few years. Why are we so obsessed with “buying the farm”? How many of you worry about whether there is an after-life? Personally I don’t care unless you can get fried onion rings there.

It’s a given that death can be depressing...especially to the one that’s died. But some wonderfully creative people have thought of some funny things about the subject to lighten up a dreary subject.

Did you hear about the redneck who passed away and left his estate in trust for his bereaved widow? She can’t touch it until she’s fourteen.

Some guy reads the obituaries in the paper every morning.
And he can’t understand how people always die in alphabetical order.

Death is nature’s way of telling you to slow down.

For three days after death, hair and fingernails continue to grow, but phone calls taper off.

When I die, I want to go just like my grandfather…in his sleep. Not screaming like the other passengers in his car.

Another phrase that all of us hear often is “the good die young.” That was never more true than when I read about the passing of Sam, the tiny dog whose hairless body and crooked teeth earned him a reputation as the World’s Ugliest Dog. The pooch died just short of his 15th birthday. I don’t think there’ll ever be another Sam,” his owner said, adding: “some people would think that’s a good thing.”

“Only a mother could love that face.” Unfortunately for Sam that wasn’t true. His mother took one look at him and ran under the tires of an 18-wheeler. It was the first recorded suicide in the American Kennel Club history. Can you imagine how Sam’s felt when his little brother and sister puppies took an ad out in the papers looking for a hungry hyena to give him to? It can only be hoped that Sam didn’t learn English good enough to understand the horrible insults tossed his way. Was it his fault that he was uglier than spit?

His owner confesses that she was initially terrified of Sam when she agreed to take him in as a rescue dog six years ago. One glance and she immediately tried to donate her eyes to The Lighthouse. Although she fell in love with Sam, his appearance repulsed her then-boyfriend and prompted the man to join the Foreign Legion. Later, Sam became a matchmaker by bringing together his owner and her current beau, who saw a picture of the two on an online dating site. No one has vouched for his mental prowess.

“I feel a little lost ever since he was put down, and I’m sleeping with Sam’s favorite toy – a used condom he picked up and carried home.” There’s a report that Donald Trump, who met Sam on a talk show set has vowed to change his hair style in honor of his passing. Way to go, Donald.

IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS.

One of the most difficult things to do is figuring out what to buy family and friends during holidays or special occasions. Birthdays for instance drive me crazy. What does he or she need? What do they really want? What can I buy that will be a big, pleasant surprise? The Old Geezer has given up asking the person’s mate what they like more than anything else in the world. The answer I inevitably get is, “I dunno? Forget it he (or she) has everything. You’d just be wasting your time and money.” Don’t believe it. One year I received 13 pair of pajamas on my birthday…13. What the hell was I supposed to do with 13 crappy pairs of pj’s? I don’t even wear the damn things. I needed 13 pairs like I needed another circumcision.

Knowing that one day I would be asked by one of those idiots how the pajamas fit? I decided to get it over in one fell-swoop. I put all 13 pairs on at the same time, took them off and burned them. My answer to how they fit was “tight.”

Some people even make pacts that on each other’s birthday they won’t exchange gifts. Big mistake. When their birthday rolls around and the other person shakes their hand, wishes them a Happy Birthday…they stare, “That’s it? Just a Happy fucking Birthday? No gift? Some goddamn friend!” That’s usually the last time you see them. When you explain to mutual friends that you’re really not an insensitive cheapskate…that you had a “no gifts this year” pact, they shake their head and walk away. The lesson to be learned is when someone tells you they don’t want anything from you – go into hock with some fat necked loan shark and buy the most expensive gift you can think of.

One thing you should never do is try and be clever or funny with gifts. It always backfires like a ’76 Desoto. I know idiots who think its fun to send “Meat of the Month” gifts to vegetarians; a painting of a smiling Christ on the Cross to a religious friend; piles of manure to their in-laws. The Old Geezer urges you not to be a smart-ass comedian when it comes to gifts -- it never works. However, I did laugh when I heard about one person who sent a membership in Weight Watcher’s to Karen Carpenter. But usually the attempt at humor is lame. It’d be like sending a basket of Givenchy skin cream to someone suffering from flesh eating disease.

This year, a new product came out which is perfect for those difficult to-buy- for-women in your life. Some smart enterprising company invented…are you ready for this?...a fury, heated bra. The idea is to save on energy and heating bills this winter. The Warm Biz Bra is lined with material that helps save warmth. It has removable pads that can be heated in a microwave or hot water – as well as long, furry straps that wrap around the neck like a scarf, and matching shorts. According to the manufacturer, “Warm Biz Bra let’s you add a little fun and chic to office wear, and prevents global warming.”

What a great idea. Instead of worrying about which diamond bracelet to buy “the little woman” or which model convertible Mercedes to buy the girlfriend you can save yourself all that hassle – just present them with a Warm Biz Bra. The look on their face should stay with you all during your stay in intensive care.

I can’t wait until they start manufacturing heated jockey shorts and jockstraps for those male friends that are never satisfied with the pajamas I give them.

I LOVE A GOOD TAN.

If you’re going to break the law it’s always a good idea to try and be smart about it. Don’t act like many Congressman and Senators.

Is there anything more pathetic than some car thief who doesn’t know how to drive? After breaking into a Bentley – by-passing all its security systems – sitting behind the wheel and realizing they don’t know how to get it moving. Duh! How about the brazen bank robber who hides under a desk disguising himself as a waste paper basket, waits until the bank is closed, stands up and waving the vault’s combination in his hand walks over to it and begins dialing the combination only to find out he’s dyslexic and can’t get the combination right? Fools like that are an embarrassment to an old, honorable profession….breaking the law.

Most of us either know or know someone who knows a law breaker. They’re more common than “funny” podiatrist who insists on telling you, “this hysterical joke,” only to forget the damn punch line. Boooooring! If you are going to do some illegal than do it right.

North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina which is a small, nice Oceanfront community and was known for welcoming new businesses…found itself in a dilemma. A lovely new tanning salon opened in a strip Mall – no pun intended – it had a clssy neon sign in the window, lots of greenery inside, the employees were very friendly and its neighbors welcomed it into the community. Yes, the VIP Tann Spa seemed to fill a business need – being the only tanning salon in the town. It turns out that what it didn’t have were any tanning beds. Perhaps they were enroute? But that didn’t explain the land-office business they were doing. Why would all those male customers keep entering a tanning salon without any tanning beds?

The North Myrtle Beach police became interested in the VIP Tann Spa when they observed male customers leaving the place with big smiles on their faces and the occasional bulge around their groin area. An undercover officer was sent into the Spa and he quickly noticed something conspicuously absent – namely tanning bed. Oh, there were beds in the place but they were water beds. It didn’t take the undercover cop too long to realize that the VIP Tann Spa was a house of prostitution. His first hint was that the receptionist was nude as were all the employees. The three customers in the place were also naked as jaybirds. Rather than shed his clothes and fake mustache – this law and order officer busted everyone in the joint. The customer’s protested that the only reason they were nude was they expected the tanning beds to arrive any second. Turns out their excuse was as soft as their….well, you get the point.

Investigators took business receipts, credit card statements and cash before closing the salon. Lesson to be learned, do not use a credit card when frequenting that kind of business especially if your wife pays the bills.

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

Would you like living in a town called, “Morning Sickness,” Washington? How about “Diarrhea,” North Dakota? No chance, right? The name of the city or town that we live in is important. It’s part of who we are. I was born in Brooklyn, New York and was always proud of my home town. Brooklyn had a unique character.

That being said, there’s a countrywide fad going on which seems very strange to a Brooklynite. Towns and cities all over America are up for sale. They are willing to sell themselves to any corporation or business that pays them. What the hell ever happened to civic pride? Can you imagine Hollywood selling itself to the manufacturer of some feminine hygiene spray? Instead of a Hollywood sign we’d have a douche bag.

This fad really started back in the 1950s, when Hot Springs, New Mexico, was renamed Truth or Consequences, N.M., after the popular quiz show. They sold out to a dumb game show. When that show went off the air so did the town. Instead of a name it had a question mark.

This week, Clark, Texas, morphed into DISH, Texas in exchange for a decade of free satellite television from the DISH Network for the town’s 55 homes. They sold out for lousy free cable TV service. Is watching Playboy Channel or the Meat Network worth giving up your name? Across the nation, small communities are being courted by large corporations who say renaming a town provides a marketing buzz that can’t be bought in television ads. Did they ever think that a good product might also bring that same buzz?

Buying a town is a dangerous idea. Where will it end? I can imagine places popping up all over the country named: Nausea, Conn.; Cramps, Vermont; Nosebleed, Ohio; Heat Rash, Oregon; Phlegm, Montana; Prickly Heat, Tenn.; Incontinence, Louisiana; Body Odor, Florida and Heartbreak of Psoriasis, New Jersey. That’s what would happen if drug companies got together to get free publicity for their products and bought some cities in financial trouble.

I’d be embarrassed and mortified if I was living somewhere that didn’t have enough self-esteem and arrogance to tell some corporation to take a hike. That they’re not for sale for anything. Unless this disgusting trend stops, driver’s licenses will say, “take your pick” under address.

It says something about a country when its localities are for barter. Come one come all…just bring your checkbooks. Feh! I will admit, though, that I would move to a place called, Toe Fungus, Florida.

UP THE IRISH.

Most people over 6-months old worry about what’s going to happen to them when they get old and infirm? It’s a natural concern especially when you realize the lack of respect most young men and women have for the elderly. I just read about grandparents in their 90’s being moved out of the family home, taken to a forest and left to die or be eaten by wild animals…and that was in Brooklyn, New York.

The care of seniors is a serious problem all over the world. Years ago, elders were cherished for their wisdom and experience. They were looked up to and consulted about many family issues. That respect seems to have gone the way of Robert Goulet’s hair color. His hair is pre-maturely black.

Getting old is not something to look forward to for many. Physical ailments and problems seem to occupy all of their time. Organs slow and frequently shut down completely. Seniors suffering, can’t go to Mr. Good-Wrench for a valve job to make them run efficiently again. Arthritis is more common than a good bowel movement. Hearing starts going, eyesight begins to dim, the finely tuned machine that your body used to be – is a fond memory. I hate to sound depressing about old age but if you know any octogenarians don’t expect them to jump up and do the huckle-buck. (This word will determine how old you are.)

A huge business has been created to take care of old people. Whatever they’re called: Retirement homes, Senior facilities or Nursing homes – their purpose is to be a haven to elderly, sometimes sickly old men and women who’s family no longer can or want to take care of them. I hear one boomer explain, “I don’t want my kids around somebody who smells like a mouse.” Cruel and insensitive as that might be – I understood what my son was saying about me. Just kidding, I don’t have any children because that would have required some energetic and vigorous body movement which would have necessitated me putting down my martini glass.

I was happily surprised from news out of Dublin, Ireland – No the Irish haven’t decided to disown Barry Fitzgerald. A nursing home in Dublin has hit on a cheering way to keep up the spirits of its elderly patients. At first I thought maybe they decided to pressurize the entire building so some of the more sprightly seniors could throw away their oxygen tanks. It also occurred to me that maybe the owners might go against the NBA’s policy and loosen up the dress code at the home: Nose rings and bifocals are okay; unbuttoned disco shirts and a heart monitor are encouraged; Inline skates and a walker are considered in good taste.

St. Mary’s Hospital in County Monaghan has decided to open a pub in their facility. That’s right, an old fashioned Irish pub. What a fabulous idea. They believe that ready access to a good pint may help its patients – average age 85 – actually live longer. Even if they don’t, they obviously will be happier and more cheerful. The pub which opens at 11a.m and closes at 9p.m. charges normal bar prices and any excess profit will be spent on costumes for the wenches behind the bar – all in their late 70’s. Interestingly enough since they instituted this policy the children of the patients seem to want to visit Da or Ma more than they did before.

Besides booze the bar offers dart games – if the player is too old to actually throw the dart, someone else can walk the dart to the board and stick it in. A “Danny Boy” sing-a-long is held every night. All the patients are encouraged to sing with or without dentures. “This pub means the patients aren’t bored to death anymore,” said Rose Mooney, director of nursing.

With the success of the pub in this Nursing Home – it is rumored that a nursing facility in Israel is considering the same idea – but instead of a pub they will put in stuffed derma bar.

YOUR CELL PHONE OR YOUR LIFE.

For days recently the Network and Cable News Shows have been headlining the story about a woman bank robber who does her thing while chatting on her cell phone. I’ve always believed that cell phones should be declared illegal in cars but while robbing a bank never occurred to me.

All the TV shows had pundits come on to speculate why she robbed while talking on her phone. Opinions varied from: she used the cell phone as a disguise not to attract attention while she was in the bank….a bit of a stretch when you consider that she had a gun in her purse and some of the tellers screamed and fainted; that the bank robber was talking to her girlfriends and boasting to them of her latest escapade; that she was calling her bookie and taking the Dallas Cowboys and 3 points.

These days it seems that some people just can’t go anywhere or do anything without a cell phone in their ear. You see it every day. In supermarkets, in movies, on street corners – I’ve even known a cell phone junkie who uses his in the shower. During a funeral for a top bookmaker in Vegas a phone began to ring while the ceremony was taking place. Talk about annoying and rude. After everyone in the church checked that theirs was off it was discovered that the dead gambler had requested that he be buried with his. Maybe the devil was calling with the latest over/under.

“This is the first time that I can recall where we’ve a crime committed while a person was using a cell phone, “Loudoun County sheriff’s spokesman said. During her recent crime wave, she talked on a cell phone, while showing the teller a box with a holdup note attached to it and a gun. The woman is described as well-spoken. Why the hell not? With the loot from her robberies she probably paid for voice lessons.

I’ve pondered this bank robbery cell phone question since it first made headlines. My theory is that this pistol-packing, latter-day Bonnie, of B and Clyde wasn’t using the phone a prop just to confuse authorities. No siree, Bob. She actually was talking – and not to a girlfriend – but to her bank robbing Coach. He was giving her instructions on how to pull of the heist. It probably went like this:

“Herbie, I’m at the teller’s cage, now what do I do? Wha? Yes, I spelled all the words correctly in the holdup note. Don’t be such a nudge. I know, I know, I spelled, “I have a “gum” in my pocket…but that was just with the first bank. Gimme a break, okay? Herbie, the teller wants to know what I want. She says I’m holding up the line. What should I tell her? Money? Of course, I want money…but should I ask for tens, twenties, large bills…what? Listen, Herbie, don’t yell at me…you know I get nervous when I’m yelled at. Miss, I’ll be with you in a second, I’m talking to Herbie. What? Oh, for God’s sake Herbie she won’t know who you are…there must be millions of Herbies in Virginia. What a grouch. Okay, okay…I should tell her to gimme all the money in her drawer and not to ring the alarm. Miss, Herbie says you should give me all the money in your drawer and not to ring any alarms. What Herbie? Oh, he says if you do I’ll shoot you with my gum…I…ur…mean gun. Forget gum. I mean, gun. She’s giving me the money, Herbie. Should I tip her? Okay, okay. I’m out of here. Miss, have a nice rest of the day…it was nothing personal. Bye, bye."

I do believe that the robberies went down something like that. Wonder what would happen if just before her next bank robbery Herbie’s line is busy?

P.S. - the nitwit was just arrested after dialing 9-1-1 on her cell phone and asking for their telephone number.

YOU BE THE JUDGE.

Unless you are a member of the National Basketball Association, the National Football League or Major League Baseball you are expected to obey laws. With the exceptions of those who fall in the above categories most men and women do. They try not to be law breakers…especially if they stand a good chance of being caught. Who wants to go through the possibility of answering embarrassing questions from Rita Crosby or Wolf Blitzer?

This question of laws and obeying them got The Ranting OG thinking….usually a dangerous enterprise. It’s a given that people all over the world do try to obey the laws on the books even though, for the most part, they had no say it their adoption. Doesn’t that seem a tad unreasonable? We are asked to abide by many out-of-date laws passed by others which might be unreasonable in today’s world. Shouldn’t all laws have to be reviewed every decade or so to see if they still have merit? We could vote to keeping them on the books or scrap them. All of us could turn into Roger Ebert and give the statutes a finger – up or down. I love to give things the finger…especially ex-wives.

As another public service from your humble and most obedient servant I researched some of the silliest laws still on the books from countries around the world. These really are ordinances that people are supposed to obey. None of this is made up. Ready?

Chester, England: You can only shoot a Welsh person with a bow and arrow inside the city walls and after midnight.

Scotland: It is illegal to be a drunk in possession of a cow.

Switzerland: a man may not relieve himself while standing up, after 10pm.

British Columbia, Canada: It is illegal to kill a Sasquatch.

Alberta, Canada: If you are released from prison, it is required that you are given a
handgun with bullets and a horse, so you can ride out of town.

Chico, California: Detonating a nuclear device within city limits results in a $500 fine.

Sterling, Colorado: Cats may not run loose without having been fitted with a tail light.

Iowa: One armed piano players must perform for free.

Florida: You may not kiss your wife’s breasts.

Tampa Bay, Florida: It is illegal to eat cottage cheese on Sunday after 6pm.

Kansas: If two trains meet on the same track, neither shall proceed until the other has
passed.

Wichita, Kansas: Before proceeding through the intersection of Douglas and Broadway, a
motorist is required to get out of their vehicle and fire three shot gun rounds into the air.

New Orleans: It is illegal for a woman to drive a car unless her husband is waving a flag
in front of it.

Massachusetts: At a wake, mourners may eat no more than three sandwiches.

Massachusetts: Taxi drivers are prohibited from making love in the front seat of their
taxis during their shifts.

Isn’t it time to get these ridiculous laws off the books and out to pasture? While we’re putting things out to pasture why not include Joan Rivers and her yenta daughter?

BOO!

Sometimes a guy just can’t win. No matter what he does, he’s gonna get kicked in the slats. Don’t you think that kind of poor soul wakes up in the morning and knows it’s gonna rain on his parade? If not his parade, his glasses which will cause him to swerve his Nash Rambler into a group of senior citizens playing Frisbee with some road kill.

Meet Wade Gallegos of Des Moines, Iowa, a nice guy trying to do his job as a security guard for Neighborhood Patrol. He took his responsibility seriously and always showed up on time and patrolled his beat in a professional manner. If he saw something suspicious he investigated and notified his supervisors. That’s what a security guard is supposed to do…it says that in the Security Guards handbook. “See, investigate and don’t piss your pants.”

Wade’s only problem according to his supervisor was that he called in a report saying he saw ghosts on his beat. Since it wasn’t April Fools Day the supervisor drove over to Gallegos’ neighborhood and checked out the report. He looked around but didn’t find a single ghost. Wade swore that they were there and kept pointing to where he said they were apparently standing. The supervisor even put on his glasses but didn’t see a single spook….nada…zippo…zilch. Nobody in a white sheet. He fired Gallegos five hours later. Now just one darn minute – did it ever occur to Neighborhood Patrol that maybe the ghosts didn’t want the supervisor to see them? Maybe they didn’t like his demeanor – swaggering around yelling at poor Gallegos. Maybe this guy had a funny eye and it scared the ghosts. Where is it written that ghosts can’t be scared? As to the white sheets, maybe ghosts are hipper now and wear designer color sheets.

Before you jump to conclusions, the head office tested but found no signs of drugs or alcohol on Gallegos. He was as clean as Rafael Palmeiro says he is but in Wade’s case it’s true. What did the head office expect, the ghosts to jump up and down and yell, “Boo!” They could have had laryngitis…or were just shy.

Wade applied for unemployment insurance but his former employers challenged the claim, arguing he was guilty of misconduct. The case went before Judge G. Ken Renegar who ruled, “Such beliefs do render the claimant unfit to act as a security guard. The employer cannot have security guards who see ghosts and apparitions and inform the employer, and then the employer sends out patrol cars.” However, the judge ruled, seeing ghosts is not the type of misconduct that can disqualify Gallegos from receiving unemployment benefits.

At least Wade is getting his unemployment checks each week although he still insists that he didn’t make up the story. He knows a ghost when he sees one. Wouldn’t you?

POLLY WANTS A NIPPLE.

I want you to be honest. Totally honest. Did you ever steal anything?

As a kid did you ever take some candy, slip it into your pocket and walk out of the store without paying? Ever pick up a neighbor’s newspaper and tuck it under your arm like it was yours? In a supermarket, did you ever reach into the coin cup and find some change that the customer before you left by mistake and keep it instead of turning it in to the cashier? Well did you? Liar, liar, pants on fire.

All of us have taken things that don’t belong to us. Most times it’s not a big deal although clearly illegal and often we’re embarrassed by our action. We like to separate our little peccadilloes from walking into a bank and sticking it up. That’s really stealing. How about cheating on our income tax? Everyone has done that once in their life. It’s no big deal – the government would only waste that money on some shady pork barrel thing.

Did you ever wonder why seemingly honest men and women take things that don’t belong to them? Why do wealthy people shop-lift when they can easily pay for the merchandize? It’s a sickness. Stores lose hundreds of millions of dollars every year on shoplifting. The rest of us wind up paying for the stolen goods through increased prices. This Rant is not some moral judgment on mankind. I leave that to the idiot Pat Robertson. There’s a point to this.

Dig. A woman living in Fort Meyers, Florida, who never before stole anything in her life, was arrested for shoplifting. No big deal, you say? Tell that to her employer, Baby Exotic Birds. Jill Knispel, 35, didn’t reach into the cash register and help herself to some chump change. No, her crime was much more diabolical – she faces felony charges after hiding a rare Greenwing parrot in her bra and walking out of the store. Yup, she was arrested for padding her bra – with a stolen parrot.

She allegedly stole the bird so she could trade it for a vintage 1964 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. Not a new Mercedes…a broken down VW. She claims she couldn’t resist telling the car’s owner how she got the animal. Wrong, the car owner turned out to be a friend with the owner of Baby Exotic Birds and turned her in. The bird-in-the-bra was worth $2,000. In the words of Howard Stern, “Tough titty, lady.”

DNA tests confirmed the bird’s identity and Knispel was charged with grand theft. DNA helped nab this boob thief but couldn’t nail O.J. Simpson…go figure.

What I can’t figure out is when she stuffed the parrot into her bra and walked out, didn’t anyone in the store notice that her left breast was moving up and down and saying, “Polly wants a cracker?”

There’s a lesson in all this – maybe if she wore a wonder bra she would have gotten away with this dastardly crime.

ARRRRRRR!

Never one to allow any grass to grow under my Geezer, I offer a brilliant concept for some entrepreneur out there free of charge. This guaranteed money-making idea will bring in millions and the possibility of your being fired by Donald and Martha at the same time.

After the horrific events in the Indian Ocean during the Seaburn Spirit’s cruise when the ship was attacked by pirates – yes, pirates in 2005. Why would anybody take a cruise in the Indian Ocean? Just think of the fun the passengers would have debarking in Somalia to buy dust, flies and poverty? Why does the word “schmuck” come to mind? Isn’t Acapulco good enough for them?

I urge some smart cruise line to advertise a “Pirate Cruise” for those seniors, singles, married couples and gays willing to walk the plank for fun and profit? The cruise line could charge top doubloon to book a dungeon. It would be cashing in on a headline making event and at small risk. Speaking of small risks they might even ask Danny DeVito to captain the voyage.

The Old Geezer is getting excited about this. Instead of spending mucho gold sovereigns to hire a multi-language crew…they would only have to learn to say, “Arrrrr.” and occasionally “Matey.” Officers could throw away those hot, heavy naval uniforms and wear britches and peasant blouses—with an occasional eye patch thrown in for fun. Passengers could spot the Captain a mile away – he would be the only one with a hook instead of a hand, a parrot on his shoulder and bird doo-doo on his cheek.

“Pirate” language classes would be offered to all land lubbers. They would learn to speak perfect Pirate: “Avast, Ahoy, Shiver me timbers, Kheel haul him” and other quaint sayings. For singles, pick-up lines would be offered to a comely wench, “Wanna know why my Roger is so jolly?” It’d be a laugh a minute.

No wine cellar on this ship, boyo. Rum and Grog would be served with the evening gruel, “Drink up me hearties”. For entertainment, the Ship would provide a cat-a-nine-tails whipping contest, Walk the Plank competitions, Cannon ball throws, instead of a boring evening karaoke – “Yo, Ho,Ho and a Bottle of Rum” sing-a-long would take place. Every evening at midnight, Virginia Mayo and Walter Sleazak pirate films would be shown.

Even during a surprise “sou’wester” debauchery would be encouraged. As the piece de resistance the Pirate Cruise would attack any Carnival Cruise ship in the neighborhood.

This idea could make a trip on the Titanic look like a disaster. Don’t know about you but I’m going to get hijacked for the first sailing. Arrrrrr!

CRIMINALS ARE STUPID.....

Boys and girls come to order. Take out your pads and pens – it’s time for Professor Geezer’s next lesson. The subject of today’s talk is: Criminals are dumb. If they weren’t we wouldn’t be building more and more prisons and jails to house them. If they weren’t stupid they wouldn’t keep getting caught. For those of you who believe that there are some very smart crooks the Geezer must disagree. If they were so smart we wouldn’t know that they were crooks – obviously they have a police record which labels them as law breakers – hence, they are morons just like their brethren. Amen!

For those of you who think there’s something glamorous about gangsters, stuff and nonsense. There is still time for you to repent and save your souls. If you have started dressing like an NBA player – you are half way to sharing a cell with a bald, tattooed biker named, Mongo. I’m talking about you young ladies. Unless you change your ways you will spend time as a “play thing” to a cigar smoking dike.

Boys, throw away those backward baseball caps and flip-flops or get used to acting like a French maid to a group of skinheads. There’s still time for you to get on the glory road and become accountants.

To illustrate how idiotic criminals are…take notes. Two violent felons who escaped from a maximum-security prison prove my point. They hid in a trash truck – disguised as used condoms and made their escape. Before you say anything – no one ever claimed that prison guards were Mensa members. These two dangerous men obviously had no plan besides breaking out of prison. There was no one to meet them, no hidden changes of clothes, no getaway car stashed in the woods – didn’t these two yutzes ever see a Jimmy Cagney prison film?

They were apprehended about 110 miles from the prison at a motel along a busy Interstate. When they checked into the motel they told the clerk that their identification was in their car, and that car had been towed. The dumb room clerk obviously was a former inmate because he believed their cock-n-bull story. Once they got into their motel room they decided they were hungry – and with no cell bars to bang on – they called a pizza joint and ordered one to be delivered.

They put their pinheads together and decided on a plan of action. They told the pizza owner that the door to their motel room would be open, that they’d be taking a shower and he sould leave the pizza on the bed and take the money from the table, and go. It didn’t occur to these Einstein’s that “they’d” be taking a shower might seem a bit strange. When the pizza was delivered the delivery person could see that there wasn’t enough cash on the table. He shouted that he needed more money for the large pizza – hold the anchovies. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and somebody finally handed another five dollars through the partially open door.

Unfortunately, for the escapees, they still had their prison garb on and the delivery person spotted the orange jump suits with “Columbia Prison Inmate” stenciled on them. He beat a hasty retreat and called the police. The two felons were arrested without incident. There were even a few pieces of the pizza left when they were cuffed. As they were being led away, one of the escapees asked the motel owner if he could get a refund for the room. “Can I get my money back?” He didn’t.

The valuable lesson, dear students, to be learned from all this is – never short-change the pizza deliveryman.

STICKING TOGETHER.

Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows problems pop up from time to time and the trick is to get passed them. Unless a man and woman learn to compromise their staying together is doomed. Love means always saying “you’re sorry.” It worked for me…I’d get up in the morning and the first thing out of my mouth was, “honey I’m sorry. I apologize.” Most times she’d say, “what are you apologizing for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” My answer was, “I know but I will so this will save us time.”

Over 50% of marriages end in divorce. People get sick and tired of facing a cup of hate for breakfast. All of us try to find our soul mate and partner but aren’t willing to work at it. As soon as something goes wrong in a relationship too many people are ready to throw in the sponge. Bah, humbug! I, for one, believe in fidelity and monogamy. I have been with the same lovely blow-up doll, Heidi, for twenty years. Oh, sure we have our problems especially when she begins to leak or blows a patch – but I just bring her in to be vulcanized and we’re as good as new. I’ve been tempted, at times, to throw Heidi over for a younger more voluptuous rubber lady but then I remember the good times we shared and resist the temptation.

Boyfriends and girlfriends have their own set of problems. The trick is not to be cruel to the other person. To let unimportant annoyances slide by and not make too much of minor arguments. Gail O’Toole of Murrysville, Pa. is a perfect example of someone who took things too far. Her ex-boyfriend Kenneth Slaby is suing Gail for $30,000. His lawsuit claims the two broke up in 1999 after dating for 10 months and he began dating someone else. Normally breaking up and one of the parties starting to date someone else is not grounds for a law suit. But read on…..

Slaby contends that O’Toole invited him over to her home in 2000, where he fell asleep. Not the smartest move on Kenneth’s part. What he didn’t know was how pissed off Gail still was at him leaving. She’s obviously a young woman who holds a grudge like a shark holds onto a swimmer’s leg. Gail also must have neglected to mention that she attended classes put on by Lorena Bobbitt. No she didn’t take a scissor or knife to him – that would have been kind and gentle on her part. When “Rip Van Winkle” woke up he found that O’Toole had used Super Glue to stick his genitals to his abdomen…if that wasn’t bad enough – she also glued his buttocks together and spelled out a profanity on his back with nail polish. Let’s recap: Slaby found his balls glued to his belly, his ass glued shut and graffiti on his back.

Slaby said O’Toole told him it was payback for their break-up, and he had to walk a mile to a gas station to call for help. Bet it was a real sloooooow walk. He pressed charges and O’Toole pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault and served six months’ probation. It’s seems there is no law on the books about felony abuse of Super Glue. O’Toole’s attorney had the chutzpah to claim it was a consensual act and Slaby wasn’t permanently damaged.

Excuse me? Consensual act? Sure, what guy wouldn’t love to be able to only piss on his chin and not be able to shit for months. Needless to say that alone made him a touch cranky. He was lucky he didn’t explode. The phrase, “You are full of shit!” has a new poster boy.

SEX IS HERE TO STAY.

“Is it good for you?” A question that most of us have either asked or been asked. I was never sure what it meant. What was supposed to be good for you? Okay, I admit to being a tad prudish when it comes to sex. In fact, I blush when ordering breast of turkey.

In my case the question should be, “have you started yet?” Also, “Is that all there is?” which Peggy Lee went on to record and sell a million records. The point is all of these euphemisms have to do with whether the act of sex was satisfying or not. After my last marriage I wasn’t sure it was something one asked. It’s silly to ask a question when you know the answer is, “get the hell outta here with that tiny weenie or I’ll tell the world.” The woman was cruel and mean but not untruthful. At our wedding, when asked “will you love, honor and cherish?” she asked “who?”

The whole point of this Blog is to breathe some needed fresh air on the subject of love making. Sex, of course, has always been around: Adam and Eve; Sampson & Delilah; Cleopatra and Anthony and Michael Jackson and his test tube? Some skeptics think sex is a healthy and natural physical act except for married couples.

The above is not true. The ROG is a romantic at heart. I believe that sex between a man and woman is the greatest thing in the world – especially if you’re between the right man and woman. Let’s face it sex is what makes the world go round. People think about it all the time. It rules their lives. Without genitals who would we be, Wayne Newton? How many books, poems, plays, movies have been written about nose drops? Put your hands together for sex and love.

Archaeologists have found signs of man’s fascination with sex in caves tracing back to before the Stone Age. Chiseled on the walls of a cave were the words, “If you want a good time stop futzing around with that dinosaur and call Bambi.” During the Dark Ages horny men and women would schtupp by the light of friendly fireflies. No matter what the difficulty the sex drive found outlets.

For any doubters out there, Ranjeet Kar of the Birbal Sahni Institute of Palaeobotany in Lucknow, India – (how would you like to repeat those names five times quickly while your sexual organ is resting under a guillotine? Do it wrong and its goodbye Dolly Grey.) – discovered two fossils fused together in sexual union for 65 million years. It is the first time that sexual copulation has been discovered in a fossil state. Voyeurs will need a microscope to view the eternal lovers. This discovery brings new meaning to “one night stand.”

The horny fossils are tiny swarm cells, a stage of development of the fungus myxomycetes, also known as slime molds. So, when your wife or girlfriend calls you a “slime ball” it might be a sexual compliment. The cells reproduce by “fusing,” Ranjeet explained. Once the cells fuse, long, threadlike appendages known as flagella, is lost, he said. Finding the fossils in a fused position with their flagella shed is proof that the two cells were having sex. After typing this I may never “do it” again.

This rare find proves “it ain’t how you do it it’s the way that you do it.” There is a rumor that one of the cells may have asked for a cigarette right after sex but since cigarettes hadn’t been invented yet, he probably turned around and went to sleep.

GOOD NEWS/BAD NEWS

I’m partial to “Good news/Bad news” stories. Never know which I want to hear first. History is replete with those stories. During the Titanic’s famous cruise, the first mate ran to the Captain and said, “Sir, we have a major problem.” The Captain replied, “Easy, son, it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

How would you feel if notified that you had just won 1 million dollars in a lottery? Would you jump up and down and click your heels? Can you click your heels? I’d settle for clicking my castanets. Would you call family and friends to share the good news? Would you call people you dislike and tell them off? What if the people you hate are family and friends – then you could do it in one phone call.

The good news is winning a million bucks. The bad news is that you are under arrest for using a stolen credit card to buy the winning ticket. It happened. Christina Goodenow, 38, of White City in southern Oregon who faces numerous theft-related charges, forgery and possession of methamphetamine, said authorities, who searched her home. The reason they went to her home was that she bought the winning lottery ticket with a stolen credit card.

If it wasn’t embarrassing enough to be handcuffed, if she’s convicted of any of the charges, Goodenow will not be able to collect prize money from the winning ticket, police said. Apparently, Oregon only pays off ticket holders who are squeaky clean. That let’s me out, bubba. “I’ll be fascinated to see how this shakes out,” a Lottery spokesman said. “In my 12 years with the Oregon Lottery, this is the first time I’ve encountered something like this.”

Goodenow purchased the ticket using a credit card that had belonged to her mother-in-law, who died more than a year ago, police said. She traveled to Oregon Lottery headquarters in Salem to accept an installment payment of $33,500. The 1 million grand prize is paid out over twenty years. Cheap friggin’ State.

Detectives began tracking Goodenow after learning that she had used the credit card to purchase several items, including the ticket. A search warrant served at her home turned up some methamphetamine, but little money. Well, had they paid her the one million they could have found plenty of loot besides the drugs. Doesn’t the White City cops have better things to do than chase after a lousy stolen credit card? There must be more serious crimes committed all the time – like booking some Elvis impersonator.

“Our investigation is still trying to determine what happened to the $33,500,” police said. Duh? Maybe she spent it on the Meth, Sherlock Holmes. All I know is if they paid her in full she could afford a good defense lawyer and probably beat the chicken shit charges.

Talk about “Good News/Bad News.”

LET'S DO BETTER....

Most of us are sick and tired of the negative stories, reports and news items about how far the United States has fallen since its glory days when it was the most admired country in the world. I remember that glory day…it was a Wednesday…uh…no, a Thursday…I think…well, it was some day during some week around 1962….give or take a century.

“Give me your tired, your poor, your hungry yearning to be free,” Debbie Boone said that one night when she raised her arm after drinking too many martinis – but the thought was that America was the greatest and most generous nation on the globe…and even downtown Cleveland. We were the envy of the world. What happened to us? Why does this dear country seem to goof up constantly and make so many foolish mistakes? Why can’t we return to those days of yesteryear when the Lone Ranger and Tonto had their illicit affair?

Here’s a news item that will depress the hell out of you. Just when you thought we were finally getting a handle on hurricanes and Supreme Court nominees who actually know something about the law – we get kicked in our national butts, yet again.

A new study was issued which rates corruption levels in 159 counties. For instance, Bangladesh and Chad are among the most corrupt countries in the world, rife with bribery and nepotism which condemns millions of people to poverty. That crosses them off my travel plans for Labor Day. According to this study, “Corruption isn’t a natural disaster (if it was FEMA would be delivering melted ice to those places) it is the cold, calculated theft of opportunity from the men, women and children who are least able to protect themselves,” said the group in charge of this study.

Before we puff out our implants, guess where American stands in the list of least corrupted countries? For those of you flag-wavers, get ready to be bummed out. Not in the top five. Not even in the top ten. The United States is the 17th least corrupt country in the world. 17th? They’ve got to be kidding? We should be first…we’re America. I’m disgusted and angry as hell. How can there be 17 more moral, less corrupt and honest countries than the U.S. of A? My testosterone has sunk faster than Mary Jo Kapechne. I’d rather be the most corrupt country than 17th. 17th is so pussy. Thank goodness they didn’t count Mayor Daley’s reign in Chicago.

Glance at the countries that are considered more honest than we are. Don’t they have their own Scooter Libby? Guess not. Ready? Iceland is considered the most uncorrupt country on earth. That’s like being considered the best fighter among the Amish. What the hell do they have to be corrupted about? Ice bergs?

Second place goes to Finland. Whoopee! Finland is one of the most boring places on earth. Its political leader is a reindeer named, Horace. Some of the other “namby-pamby” honest countries are: New Zealand, Singapore, Switzerland, Norway and Austria. Boring!

Some of the most corrupt places are: Tajikistan, Republic of Congo, Somalia, Angola, Nigeria, Haiti…and Myanmar. Be honest, would you spend a dime in any of those sewers?

I think the United States of America should be ashamed. 17th place? Do you want to settle for mediocrity? We landed a man on the moon…I know we did because Tom Hanks did a documentary saying we did. Since we can’t obviously beat Iceland to hell with the least corrupt list. Let’s go for the gold…let’s put our resources together and become the worst, most corrupt country in the world. We have half a leg up with the Democrat and Republican parties carrying the ball.

We deserve better than someplace in the middle. It’s embarrassing and un-American.