OH, GOD.

Most pundits and political scientists moan about the lack of participation by Americans in our elections. The truth is that not even 50% of eligible voters ever cast votes. The percentage is dropping faster than Enron’s stock did when Ken Lay appeared on America’s Most Wanted.

It’s clear that a majority of the electorate is turned off by the issues and the candidates running for office. This is sad but understandable when you consider the inefficiency of local, state and federal governments. Years ago, young people couldn’t wait to hit their 18th birthday so they could vote for the first time. The Old Geezer remembers how excited he was to cast his first vote for John Quincy Adams. Those days are gone – less boys and girls are voting than appear in the audience of the typical Soul Train show.

The political parties have tried everything and every gimmick in order to turn out the vote. One of the consequences to the lack of voter interest is that the quality of candidate gets worse and worse and the incidents of corruption gets higher and higher. They are so dumb that they probably go to Hooter’s for the food.

When you read about a voter is fighting tooth and nail to be allowed to vote in the next election in Reading, Pa. Turns out this fellow is a Republican but won’t be allowed to vote unless he appears at the Berk County Election Board to explain the signature on his registration form. The man is registered as Paul S. Sewell, but his form is signed “God.”

Having an ego is usually a good thing unless you play the nebbish in a Woody Allen movie. But, signing yourself as “God” might be considered a tad excessive. The County Solicitor said Sewell claims his “God” signature is merely a legal mark like the “X” used by people who are illiterate. I’m not sure God, whoever, she, or he is, would take kindly to be compared to an illiterate. A huckster selling fake hair color in TV maybe but the banjo playing kid in Deliverance…nah!

Sewell said he will be happy to explain. As the owner of a bail enforcement agency, he finds fugitives, he said. “Whenever I go to arrest somebody, they say, ‘Oh, God, give me another chance. Oh, God, let me go. I’ll turn myself in tomorrow, ‘he explained. If he wins his argument it would mean that if someone calls you a “sunuvabitch” you have every right to use that name in Bingo games or taffy pulls. How about “schmuck”? Can you just hear a maitre’d calling out, “Is schmuck party here?” Half the restaurant might answer “Yes.”

I wait with baited breath to see the outcome of this dispute. If he wins the right to vote as “God” I’m getting a vanity license-plate “Asshole.”

DON'T BE AFRAID ANYMORE....

Many people have fears that become obsessions and if not checked can ruin their lives. These fears seem silly and unreasonable to others who don’t suffer from them. Some of the obvious ones are: fear of flying, heights, claustrophobia, fear of the dark…and being asked to play the clavichord.

Men and women go through life terrorized and filled with apprehension hoping to either outgrow their anxiety or hoping to miraculously get the courage to face their fears and defeat them. Others give into these fears and run away to join Sicilian Cousin’s Clubs, begin wearing sarongs and refuse to say Brussels sprouts in mixed company.

Another debilitating fear is public speaking. The idea of talking to a group of strangers is as horrible and scarifying as spending a fun evening with Pol Pot. Perhaps you experienced the fright yourself? Your knees knocking, hand shaking, sweat pouring out of every orifice, your mouth as dry as sand paper and that’s before you even leave your home.
A psychologist at the University of Paisley in Scotland – it used to be called the University of Herringbone - who has studied this fear of speaking in public has come up with an interesting theory on how to conquer it. His study insists that many of the old sores like: Pretending you are talking to one person or concentrating on a single point in the audience is nonsense and doesn’t really work. His hypothesis is that having sex is a good way to calm nerves before giving a speech or presentation.

Not just innocent sex but it has to be full sexual intercourse to get best results. He studied nearly 50 men and women who recorded their sexual activities for two weeks and analyzed its impact on their blood pressure levels when under acute stress, such as when giving a speech. I think that two weeks of constant shtupping would get the same results with people who are chicken flickers.

He discovered that the volunteers who had sexual intercourse were the least stressed and had blood pressure levels that returned to normal more quickly than people who engage in other types of activities – like playing handball. But people who had abstained from sex – which includes most married people – had the highest blood pressure response to stress. Even after taking into account stress due to work or other factors, the range of responses due to stress were best explained by sexual behavior. “The effects are not attributable simply to short-term relief afforded by orgasm – (although that ain’t a kick in the head) but rather endure for at least a week,” he told New Scientist magazine. He believes that the release of the so-called “pair bonding” hormone oxytocin might explain the calming effect.

To review: Instead of crying and kvetching, once again, to your mate that your lack of sex is making you want to mail yourself to Cleveland – lie and claim that you have a big speech coming up at the United Nations and it’s her duty to help you get through it by engaging in wild, enthusiastic, hot, animated sex. If that doesn’t work, a handgun might.

BOO!

Boo! That simple word has many meanings. Usually it’s used when someone jumps out and shouts “Boo!” to frighten another person. It’s especially popular during the Halloween holiday. Ghosts and goblins are a mainstay of that scary holiday along with rotted teeth from all that unhealthy candy given out during “trick or treat.”

Another interesting use of the word “Boo!” is when a husband jumps out of a closet and surprises his wife cheating with her tennis pro. It’s usually followed with many epithets and warnings of divorce. In the Geezer’s case, when I suspected my ex-wife of cheating and hid in our closet I was prepared to leap out and yell, “Boo!” on hearing moans and groans from our bed. Imagine my astonishment to find her making love to a plate of parsley.

A report from Bogota, Columbia tells of a man who should have screamed, “Boo!” in trying to cure his nephew of his hiccups but didn’t. There are many home remedy cures for hiccups, of course. One is to have the victim blow air into a paper bag until their eyes pop out of their head. Another is to place the hiccupping person’s head in a plastic bag, tie it tight around their neck and fling them into a lake or river. This remedy is usually used by fascist police and not recommended against loved ones unless it’s an in-law. Many folks believe that by scaring the hiccupee with a loud “Boo!” will also cure them. If you should try all three of these remedies and the hiccups still don’t stop – you might consider trying the method by this Columbian man.

The uncle decided to try a new theory in hiccup curing but sadly it didn’t work too well. He had seen the action in a Three Stooges movie and since he believed everything that Curly ever said or did he felt he was on safe ground. He decided that his nephew needed drastic action to get his hiccups to stop. Drastic action to him was to pull out a handgun and point it at his young nephew. Heck if that didn’t scare the boy than nothing would. There was one hiccup in his plan – while pointing the gun it accidentally went off. Talk about surprising his nephew – the young man was so surprised that he immediately stopped hiccupping and dropped to the ground dead, as a doornail, from the bullet in his eye.

The uncle was betwixt and between – his cure certainly worked. The boy stopped hiccupping…and everything else. But the distraught uncle was not satisfied with his success. He turned the gun on himself and committed suicide. Some who witnessed the event thought that he over-reacted but, they couldn’t convince him since he was in rigor.

The only lesson to be learned from this incident is that it’s probably better to stick to a loud “Boo!” when trying to cure hiccupping and not try something you’ve seen in a Stooges movie unless it was done by Moe.

EVERYTHING NEW IS OLD....

“Nothing is new”. That was first said by a sissy antique dealer to a customer while having a hissy fit. But the theme is a correct one. Almost everything in our lives is based on something from the past. Arts, literature, architecture, politics, science, music, human relationships are all grounded in events that happened to generations before us. History is the greatest teacher we can have…with the exception of Miss Newman, my geography teacher who was so gorgeous she could have caused an ox to break out in zits.

When something is discovered we all shout with glee at the amazing progress that man has made. The truth is that the “new” discovery is probably based on lots of work that was done in the past by others. For instance, take Preparation H – a valuable medication to lots of men. The firm that put it out has made hundreds of millions. No one mentions Harry Secord who was working for years on a cure for hemorrhoids. He experimented and experimented and finally gave up ‘this close’ to inventing the finished product. His last try was called, Preparation G. So close and yet so far away.

Scientists in London and Ireland have just revealed that they discovered the remains of two prehistoric men in an Irish bog. Their discovery revealed a couple of surprises – one used hair gel and the other stood 6foot 6inches high, the tallest Iron Age body discovered. “He would have been a giant…the other man was quite short, about 5foot 2inches, “said the head of antiquities at the National Museum of Ireland.

This was an amazing discovery. Historians believed that males living in the Iron Age were very short. Six foot six inches is about the size of a guard in the NBA. But the prehistoric male didn’t even have a basketball near him. Wonder if he was called “Stretch” by his parents?

“The shorter man appeared to attempt to give himself greater stature by a rather curious headdress which was a bit like a Mohican-style with a load of hair gel, which was a resin imported from France,” he continued. This means, of course, that France was screwing up things even in the Iron Age. So this little guy tried everything to make himself sexier and hunky by applying globs of gel to his pompadour. He was the forerunner of Little Richard.

Bacterial conditions found in the peat bogs preserved the remains so that even fingerprints were clearly visible. Apparently both men had been murdered which adds a twist to the story. Was it possible that the tall, string bean insulted another male by calling him “Shorty”? Did the pomade maven look so ridiculous that he was killed in a gay bashing crime? “Olderoghan Man was stabbed through the chest. He saw the attack coming because there is a defensive injury on his arm. He was then decapitated and his body cut in half which would have made him about the same height as all the other dudes. Clonycaven Man had his head split open with an axe before he was disemboweled.” Speculation abounds that his load of hair gel pissed somebody off big time.

What have we learned from this incident and discovery? Tall men were present in the Iron Age and probably wore baggy shorts and Air Jordan’s and neurotic, insecure males did everything possible to look silly just as they do today. Nothing is new – everything is old.

PROTECT PUBLIC PEEING.

For those who believe the Geezer has utter contempt for most politicians I plead guilty. The recent spate of so called campaign reform and tightening of the lobbyist influence rules by both parties are laughable. Because of the latest round of shoddy and illegal influence peddling in Washington politicians are running for the hills.

In order to take the media pressure off and dodge complaints by constituents, members of Congress have proposed some very interesting new rules trying to clean up the mess. Among them are: If a Congressperson or Senator is invited on a dubious golfing trip to St. Andrews he or she can only play nine holes; Visits to hookers can not be taken off member’s income tax but tips are allowed; The hiring of family members in lobbyist’s firms are discouraged especially if the family member is unable to work a yo-yo: There will be a limitation on expensive dinners bought by special interest groups unless the politician can prove they never chewed the food. It’s obvious from reading these new proposals that Washington politicos have gotten the message and bribery will be frowned upon but not declared illegal.

The only real reform would be the repeal of “earmarks” by Congressman and Senators. “Earmarks” have nothing to do with drop earrings they are sneaky provisions tacked onto funding bills, at the last minute and usually in the middle of the night, by politicians earmarking funds to his or her congressional district which has nothing to do with the original bill. For instance, some dishonest representative from Louisiana will place a rider on a bill funding new body armor for our troops in Iraq which calls for allocating millions for a needed beef jerky stand in his home district. It’s the old pork barrel trick which wastes billions of dollars each year just so cunning and underhanded members can prove to the voters how much ill-gotten loot they can bring into town. Earmarking is a disgrace and should be abolished but rather than do that they will pass some rule warning members not to wear too much make-up.

This abuse of authority and political office doesn’t just happen in Washington it happens in every town and hamlet in the country. An alderman in St. Louis, who owns a local tavern, wants to lower the penalties for – get this important issue – public urination before the Feb. 25 Mardi Gras Parade. He claims his bill would allow police to issue different citations for public urinators who try to be discreet than they might for those who are more open about it. I guess if you shout, “Look a Comet is spelling out Paris Hilton” and everyone looks up it’s perfectly okay, according to the alderman, if the perp then pees on someone’s shoe without them knowing about it.

“There’s a difference between going in the middle of the street, in front of God and country, and somebody who is behind a dumpster,” he said. The people living along the Mardi Gras route often leave their sprinklers on to discourage Mardi Gras partygoers from relieving themselves on their lawns. But the alderman, trying to covey favor from patrons of his tavern and hoping they drink until they explode, feels the only issue he’s concerned about is protecting public peeing. He claims the Founding Fathers were advocates of public urination and Constitution upholds that right.

We need someone as far-thinking and concerned in Washington. I predict a great future for him.

AND NOTHING BUT THE......

Are you a good liar? Can an untruth slip through your lips easier than a wad of drool? Is telling an untruth, a whopper, a fib second nature to you? Some of us are incapable of prevaricating anything – our face turns the color of a police car’s lights. If you can lie easily you open up many employment opportunities: car salesman, religious leader…and White House Press Secretary.

Americans have a long history of being liars. When George Washington said he couldn’t tell a lie and he did chop down the cherry tree he was laying through his wooden teeth. Honest Abe Lincoln’s real name was dishonest Abe.

A new study has come out – what would the Geezer do without new studies, reports and surveys? This one lists the most unusual and cockeyed excuses people use in order to get out of work. 63% of hiring managers said they are more suspicious of employees calling in sick on a Monday or Friday. Duh!

Here are some of the tall tales used by employees for missing work:

“I’m too drunk to drive to work.”
“I accidentally flushed my keys down the toilet.”
“I had to deliver a baby on my way to work.”
“I accidentally drove through the automatic garage door before it opened.”
“My boyfriend’s snake got loose and I’m afraid to leave the bedroom until he
gets home.”
“I’m too fat to get into my work pants.”
“God didn’t wake me.” (Employee didn’t believe in alarm clocks and
thought a higher power would wake her and she was an athiest.)
“I cut my fingernails too short, they’re bleeding and I have to go to the
doctor.”
“The ghosts in my house kept me up all night.”
“I forgot I was getting married today.”
“My cow bit me.”
“I was watching a guy fixing a septic pump, fell into the hole and got hurt.”
“I was walking my dog and slipped on a toad and hurt my back.”

It’s obvious from this list that American workers need big help when it
comes to making up excuses. I was ashamed reading this partial list. What the hell has happened to good, old American ingenuity? I propose that they teach “Lying #101 in schools of higher or lower education starting immediately. There are many defrocked politicians who could teach those courses.

Anyone that couldn’t come up with a better whooper than these is someone who would also claim that he wasn’t kidding when he named his son, T-Boone Pickens.

DR. DUBIOUS.....

Don’t you love to hear wild and strange stories about screw-ups in the health industry? Let’s face it, hospitals are dangerous places. They’re filled with sick people and wannabees. I wouldn’t mind them if the only men and women allowed in them were healthy. Who wants to be surrounded by coughing, hacking and kvetching people? Let them stay home if they’re not well and not spread their germs.

Almost everyone has a horror story about a doctor making a mistake in diagnosis or prescribing the wrong meds. They are very fallible people. Once they get their medical diplomas their brains often shut down and they’re of no use except as a golf partner.

To prove how susceptible we are to medical goof-ups I point to a story out of Seoul, Korea. Let me first admit that I wasn’t too surprised when reading about this medical disaster. It seems that Konyang University Hospital in Seoul can’t be considered in the same breath as the Mayo Clinic or even your local veterinarian’s office. A staff doctor at the hospital mistakenly removed part of the stomach of a patient due to have thyroid surgery, while removing the thyroid gland of another scheduled for stomach surgery. Oooops.

I don’t mean to be harsh or critical but does a stomach really look a lot like a thyroid gland? Apparently it does for the doctor who operated on the two women in their sixties who were both in for surgery the same day. I mean, even a graduate from Grenada’s Medical University and Auto Parts Store would be able to tell the difference between body parts. A heart does not look like a carburetor. And a gall bladder only resembles a hubcap on certain models.

The Korean medical staff only found out about the goof after filing paperwork on the two women. If the above wasn’t frightening enough the same doctor later performed the “correct” surgical procedures on both women and re-attached the part of the stomach he had removed from the patient with the thyroid problem. The healthy thyroid that was removed couldn’t be re-attached but the thyroid-less patient was given a chicken and a bowling ball for her trouble. Both were said to be recovering from their operations and the one woman bowled a 300 game to the delight of her chicken.

There is a lesson to this story if you dig deep enough. One: do not go into a hospital in Seoul, Korea for an operation unless you put a yellow stick-em on the part to be operated on. Two: make sure that the doctor isn’t wearing his surgical mask over his eyes.

BLAME IT ON CAPTAIN KANGEROO

Television has been blamed for many things over the years. Certainly in the past few years TV is responsible for the ‘Dumbing-Down’ of Americans. The programming is infantile and feeble-minded. Reality programs have taken the place of bright sitcoms and well written dramas. Dancing with the Stars has given birth to Ice Skating with the Stars. Will “Passing Gas with the Stars” be far behind? (I know, I know.)

TV violence has been blamed for crime in the streets especially involving teenagers. Let’s face it, television is an easy target. Rather than parents taking responsibility for their children’s illicit and criminal behavior…why not lay the blame on Big Bird or David Letterman? Some zealots have even accused it of causing bleeding gums and athlete’s foot. That may be going too far but not by much.

A new study has just come out which blames TV for a lousy sex life. Are they claiming that couples keep falling off the set while ‘doing it’? I can see some complaints with Plasma TVs they would make making love impossible unless you are a contortionist. But, this study insists that if you have a TV in your bedroom chances are you will have sex half as often as those who don’t.

“If there’s no television in the bedroom, the frequency (of sexual intercourse) doubles,” said a member of the team of psychologists conducting this survey. These busy-bodies questioned over 534 couples to see what effect television had on their sex lives. On average couples who live without TV in the bedroom have sex twice a week, or eight times a month. This drops to an average of four times a month for those with a TV. These scientists did not factor in whether the couple liked each other or were repulsed by their partner. I hate talking about my own short-lived marriage but she did insist that we couldn’t have sex if we were in the same State.

The study found certain programs are far more likely to impede passion than others. For some bizarre reason watching the World Federation Wrestling matches was a turn-off to the little woman. “Bulbs R Us” an adult gardening program effected men better than swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills. Violent films will put a stop to sexual relations for half the couples – unless one of the partners just got out of Folsom prison. Reality shows stem passion for a third of the couples. The study claimed that Desperate Housewives was a surprising turn-off to couples. Wonder if the hubby turned to his wife before turning off the light and said, “Why the hell can’t you look like her?”

The conclusion has to be that to have a fantastic, sensual, hot, pleasure-loving, lewd, hedonistic, orgiastic love life forget watching TV in the bedroom. We tried watching the radio and that didn’t work either.

VIVA ITALY

I love Italians…mostly the ones who live it Italy. They are generally sophisticated, worldly, chic, polished and unflappable. Watching them speak is like observing a room of excited mutes. They use their hands and face to get their points across – it’s a marvel. They also take a good punch – especially the women.

Italians are fantastically good looking even the ugly ones. Homely Italians are not just coarse they are brilliantly hideous. The characters in a Fellini movie are beautiful in their terrifying and monstrous ugliness. I wish I could say the same about my computer dates. They are just repulsive and hulking without being able to make a meatball sandwich.

Italians also have great style and are often at the forefront of fashion and tomato sauce. Eating a real Italian meal is like having your tongue painted by Michelangelo. It’s sublime.

A new survey was published in Rome which claims that most Italians feel guiltier about ever-eating than they do about cheating on their partners. How cool is that? This survey suggests that people in Casanova’s native land care more about staying thin than staying faithful. According to the psychology magazine Piza Psicosomatica (which means “gofuckayouself.”) found that excessive eating and spending topped the list of what people considered the more guilt-inducing vices.

Sexual infidelity came out on the bottom of the list of the magazine’s ‘seven deadly sins’, behind neglecting friends and family, failing at work, not looking after one’s physique and cheating at bocce. The amazing thing is that religion played little part in determining what makes people feel guilty, despite Italy’s Roman Catholic traditions. If that isn’t a kick in your eggplant parmigian than I don’t know what is.

If there were ever a doubt about Italians being worldly, blasé, polished and jaded this survey puts those doubts to rest – with the fishes. Can you imagine what fun it would be to live in a society where screwing around is considered okay but failing to send a second cousin a birthday card is considered a sin? The great thing is that both men and women agree that a little ‘patty-cake’ with someone who turns you on is perfectly acceptable. The Italians are way ahead of Americans when it comes to sexual equality.

Americans sneak around guiltily having affairs knowing that if their mate ever found out it would mean being ostracized by family, friends…and probably being kicked off the bowling team. How American is that? Just because a guy, or girl, decides to get a little nookey on the side they can be burned at the stake even if they can make a 3-11 split?

Italians are great and have things in perspective. Sex may be wonderful and exciting but so is a good cannoli.

NO CAMERAS, PLEASE.

Instead of the Nobel Committee awarding their six yearly prizes – they can wrap them all up into one Award and give it to The Ranting Old Geezer this year. My Award won’t be for something as boring and useless as Chemistry or Physics. It will given to me for, “Being the Smartest Dude in the Entire World plus Altoona, Pa. Why do I deserve such a prestigious Award? That’s a pretty pushy thing to ask the Smartest Dude in the World plus Altoona, Pa., but being a magnanimous and exalted Award winner I will answer the question.

I have a solution to the political malaise in the country. Unlike those who believe that cameras should be mandatory in the Supreme Court Chambers I propose that cameras be banned in the District of Columbia. That means that no member of the House or Senate can have his or her picture taken, no on-air interviews will be allowed, no guest appearances on TV or radio shows, no newspaper interviews – all of this under the penalty of death. Taking away the ability of a politician to preen and babble nonsensically in front of a camera will destroy the reason all of them run for office. For those politicians who claim that it would be cruel and inhuman treatment, the Geezer says, “A pox on you and your media advisor.”

Every politician is addicted to publicity and self-promotion. That’s their reason for being. Take that away and they’ll have no reason to hold office – besides taking money from special interest groups. In recent history no Washington politician has left office poorer than he or she was when they first were elected! None! If real campaign reform was ever instituted and cameras bared from the Congress the bozos now holding office would stay home, running their linoleum stores and boring their wives and kids. That would allow high-minded, dedicated, serious people to take their place and government would once again function. How long has it been since someone has been called a “great” Senator or House member? Not since cameras have been allowed to televise floor debates, committee meetings and other congressional business. Show a politician a camera and they turn into one of The Three Stooges.

The latest Judiciary Committee meeting on a Supreme Court nominee was the icing on the cake. The idea is for the Committee to interview and question possible nominees in order to find out if they have the intellect and judicial temperament to be approved for the Court. It’s called advice and consent in the Constitution. However, what truly happens is Senators, of both political parties, who have really already made up their minds about the candidate to posture, babble and make horse’s asses of themselves. No one ever told Senators that one of the requirements when asking a question is to have a question mark at the end of the sentence.

When given 20 minutes to quiz a nominee a Senator will talk for all 20 of the minutes without asking a single question. It’s more important to them to bore us with their supposed knowledge than learn anything from the candidate. Before cameras became part of the Washington scenery governmental business was carried out successfully and without theatrics.

The Geezer insists that doing away with instantaneous publicity and photo ops will cure our government from what ails it. If my idea is adopted I’m willing to ease the addiction politicos have by presenting them a full length mirror which they can take with them and talk to themselves until they’re blue in the face. At least we won’t have to hear them anymore. It’s not quite “cold turkey” but it’s a start.

THE FAMILY TREE

Don’t you love the study of history? Haven’t you ever asked yourself, as Peggy Lee did, is that all there is? Where did we come from? No, ninny, not Cleveland – I mean where did we originate and how did we originate? Do you honestly believe that you and I came from Adam’s rib? Or, his brisket?

If you are curious about mankind’s origins you may have looked up your own family tree to get a better idea of your family’s past. As everyone knows who hasn’t been in a coma for the past century, all politicians should be hung from their family trees. Wouldn’t the world be a better if they were left swinging in the breeze?

I have researched the Geezer family tree and discovered many interesting things. Our family tree stretches back to “merry old England” when a distant Geezer was born in a wayside Inn called, “The Sign of the Schmuck.” The Geezer tree flourished and we are now known hither and yon as one of the world’s leading obscure people.

Recently my interest was peaked by a report in The American Journal of Human Genetics which suggests that DNA has thrown light on the Ashkenazi Jewish population. The Ashkenazi is a very mysterious tribe and their origins have been in dispute for millennia. Among the Ashkenazi mysterious family traits is a sudden urge, in preteens, to do a sudden back flips into a pot of kasha. No one knows why but throughout history one can trace kasha to puberty in pimply-faced Ashkenazis. Female Ashkenazis often unexplainably start dancing with coat trees…and elderly men insist on wearing fake beards in the shower.

According to The Journal of Human Genetics they believe that Ashkenazi communities of Northern and Central Europe were not, as previously believed, founded by men who came from the Middle East, perhaps as traders, and by women from each local population whom they took as wives and converted to Judaism. New evidence suggests that the men and their wives migrated to Europe together. Some one had to do the packing and back donkey driving.

The researchers have concluded through DNA that just four women, who may have lived 2,000 to 3,000 years ago, are the ancestors of the Ashkenazis alive today. This belief is based on mitochondrial DNA. Think about it. Millions of Ashkenazi men and women can be traced to just four females. This information got the Geezer’s mouth salivating more than looking at a plate of herring in wine sauce.

Just who were these four dames, who truly can be called the Mother’s of millions of strange looking people? After going on Google I found out that the four girls were actually sisters. To say that they had loose morals is like saying George Hamilton has a tan. The four had such round heels that they couldn’t stand up without toppling over. Yes, the Bagelmans sisters – that was the family name – Bagelman, not sisters…were an embarrassment to their parents – poor but dumb workers in a local camel wash. The girls named: Bambi, Tootsie, Cookie and Yetta ranged in age from 11 to 16.

Just think an entire tribe of humans can be traced to four slutty and horny sisters. Kind of like ancient Gabor sisters.

SUE ME, SUE ME, SHOOT BULLETS THRU ME.

Are lawsuits necessary? The complaint is that the United States is the most litigious country in the world. People sue each other at the drop of a lawyer. Some claim that most of these law suits are frivolous and baseless. Money grubbing attorneys are blamed for these excesses.

There have been many famous lawsuits that were brought which on the face of it look ridiculous and a waste of courtroom time. Who can ever forget the lawsuit against the Barcalounger company when a customer sued them claiming that as soon as his lounger was delivered he was forced to have rough sex with a Finish fisherman hiding in it. The City of New York sued a homeless woman for trying to commit suicide by inhaling an Iranian cabbie. The youngster who sued Pet Co when his goldfish began singing, “I Got Rhythm.” The list goes on and on.

Judges have better things to do with their time than preside over nonsensical cases. For instance they have resumes to prepare in order to get their own TV courtroom show. Judge Ito, of O.J. fame, is trying to sell his own television series called, “Courtroom Idiot.”

A new lawsuit was just filed by the family of a deceased man against the Benihana restaurant chain. Let me say that I am not a huge fan of Japanese steak houses that prepare the food right before the customer’s eyes. I don’t enjoy sitting around an oily gas range watching a chef, in a kimono, do tricks with sharp knives that looks like something out of Kill Bill 2. After they get done doing their shtick they stand around waiting for loud applause. If you don’t put your hands together they are liable to cut one off.

The law suit against Benihana was brought claiming that a male member of the family was killed at one of the chains facilities. Here’s what they claim, the deceased was sitting around watching the chef do his thing when a shrimp flew off one of the knives and headed for the customer – the customer mistaking the shrimp for an incoming scud missile turn his head quickly to avoid the crustacean – and this involuntary jerking off his head caused a whiplash injury. The neck injury was more severe than anyone thought and the family swears the man died soon after. They are asking for millions of dollars in their lawsuit. Legally they are claiming Benihana's employee with using a dangerous, unlicensed shrimp. The NRA is looking into the claim.
So far they have not decided whether to sue the shrimp for pain and suffering.

As expected, Benihana claims the law suit has no basis in fact and threatens to take the case all the way up to the Supreme Court. Insiders believe that Justice Alito is a friend of seafood and will rule in their favor. However, to play safe, Benihana is now issuing baseball mitts to all customers in case a flying shrimp comes their way.

MIRACLES IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER.

Throughout history there have been inexplicable, miraculous events that have happened which still amaze us. There are no logical explanations to explain these occurrences. Who could ever forget that when Eve offered Adam a piece of fruit in the Garden of Eden it wasn’t an apple at all. It was a peach since apples hadn’t been invented yet by Motts.

How about the legend of Alexander the Great who was actually named Alexander the Barely Adequate; Delilah didn’t not give Sampson a buzz cut – he lost his strength because he was drunk out of his brains and had failed to do his push-ups for 100 years; how about the young baby who was born wearing bifocals even though his parents both had 20-20 vision.

Another instant of these miraculous, unexplained happenings was reported in Michigan City, Indiana a few weeks ago. An 11-year old boy’s head was run over by a pick-up truck. Talk about a speed bump. Miraculously the boy said, “All I remember about it was that when the truck ran over my head, I could hear my bones crack.” Cameron, a 5th-grader and his 13-year old brother were helping their grandfather chop and load wood. The boys were sitting on the tailgate of their grandfather’s truck when he began backing down his gravel driveway and Cameron either fell or jumped off.

Grandfather said he first thought he ran over a piece of wood until he got out of the truck and saw his grandson lying face down in the gravel. The boy stood up and ran into the house. “He didn’t look too worse for wear. He was just saying he had a headache.” After spotting blood running out of the boy’s ear, Grandpa drove him to the hospital. Cameron was then transferred to another hospital since he didn’t have a Blue Cross card with him. Tests revealed he had a slight hairline skull fracture. He also had road rash on his neck and face, a black-eye and a laceration on his ear canal. His hair was parted with a tire track.

Cameron was release from the hospital suffering a stiff neck and a headache. His mother said the accident showed the dangers of letting children ride on a tailgate. She said it was a “miracle” that Cameron had not been injured worse. “Maybe he has an exceptionally hard head,” she claimed proudly.

However, medical check-ups show that this miraculous event has had more serious consequences. Young Cameron now needs a two week notice to stop giggling. He also needs help in getting his tongue back in his mouth and cannot blink his eyes in unison. It seems the accident had more severe repercussions than previously thought. Cameron can now play Mozart’s 3rd symphony on his comb and tissue paper – and yodels in Urdu all the verses of “A partridge in a pear tree.”

He is the only student at his school who insists on wearing three hats at the same time.

THE MOUSE THAT ROARED....

Do you ever spend time thinking about household mice?
Mice get a bad rap from people. They are thought of as sneaky, dirty, vicious rodents – kind of like politicians in Washington.

There are some exceptions, of course, Mickey Mouse comes to mind. Mickey is a beloved character all over the world. Movies, children’s books, toys and merchandise of all kinds picture Mickey as a lovable mouse. His live-in girlfriend, Minnie, is another mouse that is very popular. The Christian Right have started a demeaning rumor campaign claiming that Minnie is a loose-woman and a harlot. They will not rest until they break up that happy couple.

One thing is clear – mice are misunderstood and the very thought of them gives many men and women the heebie-jeebies. The manufactures of Mouse traps rack up millions of dollars each year just so humans can get rid of these furry little guys. Can you imagine a more horrible way to die than to have your neck broken while sniffing a piece of domestic cheddar cheese? It’s cruel and inhuman treatment and I hope the American Civil Liberties Union takes up their cause. Rats are people, too!

Imagine the Geezer’s glee when he read about a story from Fort Sumner, New Mexico. A mouse got its revenge against a homeowner who tried to dispose of it in a pile of burning leaves. The 81-year old homeowner said he caught the little, tiny mouse inside his house and wanted to get rid of it. Why? Maybe the mouse was there trying to sell “Mouse-Scout” cookies in order to work its way through college. Did this homeowner ask? No, “I had some leaves burning outside, so I grabbed the bugger and threw it in the fire.” Talk about a brutish act of vengeance. “The mouse caught on fire and instead of acting like it should have, the damn thing ran back to the house.”

Fort Sumner’s Fire Chief said the burning mouse ran to just beneath a window of the house. The flames spread up the window and through the house. All the contents of the home were destroyed. The man and his wife were forced to move into a motel room. I hope it has rats. The good news is the brave mouse gave back more than he got from this inhuman-human bully. “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Mouse.”

It’s about time mice stood up on their skinny legs and issued a warning to homeowners across the country. Treat us badly and cruelly and we will take action in kind. Don’t screw with Mickey Mouse!

A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME.

Since man first appeared on Earth and even before that, humans have always had the need and desire to have their own home. During the time of the Flintstones, men and women craved to live in their own cave with a white picket fence around it; a place to raise children and their pet brontosaurus.

Every young married couple dreams about owning their first home to raise their 3-1/4 kids in. We are all brought up with the notion that home ownership is a goal we should strive for. This full court press about home ownership was probably started by real estate brokers.

The housing market has been booming across the country. Real estate has become a good investment and second homes are as common as Jessica Simpson used thongs on sale at eBay. The Geezer decided long ago not to take part in the real estate game. I live in a lovely dumpster – no mortgage – fixed or flexible. Interest rates rising or falling doesn’t interest or affect me in the least. My dumpster has wheels and whenever I feel like moving I just push the darn thing to another alley. This carefree life style may not be right for you but “Murray” my one-eyed, mean-spirited alley cat and I thrive on it. Instead of investing my money in speculative real estate, I’ve put it all in Chia Pet franchises.

This real estate ownership need was fulfilled in spades for a couple from Evansville, Indiana recently. They were touring an old office building they had just bought and made a shocking discovery. No, there wasn’t an unsuspected lien on the property or illegal wiring which would cause a fire hazard – they discovered that the structure’s second story had been sealed off from the world over 70-years ago. Lincoln and Lucille discovered that a stairway passage to the second floor had been removed and the floor closed off.

Although most of the hidden floor’s furnishing had been removed before it was sealed off, the room still offered a time capsule to the world of the 1930s. At first they thought maybe they’d find Al Capone’s hidden safe filled with gold and old cigar butts. What they found surprised everyone. A stack of canceled checks all dated between June and December 1930 and made out to Tom DeLay and signed by Jack Abramoff had been left on one of the two fireplace mantels. Those two obviously like to plan ahead.

The floor had three doors with frosted glass panels and overhead transoms labeled, “Receptionist - Come in,” “Consultation Room,” and “Kiss My Grits.” The room was fitted with ceiling light fixtures designed for both electric and gas lights, two hundred whoopee cushions, a pair of spats and a picture of Rudy Vallee performing cunnilingus on Kate Smith.

They plan on turning the floor into a loft apartment where they will live and turn the downstairs floor into a Funeral parlor/boutique called, “Death & Things.” This couple obviously invested wisely in their new home even though it doesn’t have a white picket fence or 3-1/4 kids.

GET IT IN WRITING!

Any rich person will tell you that getting married without a prenuptial agreement is stupid. It has to be in writing because as the late Sam Goldwyn used to say, “A verbal agreement ain’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”

Some people object to prenups. Potential husbands and wives seem to think that signing a prenuptial is demeaning and forecasts the lack of trust in the relationship. On the other hand slimy divorce lawyers insist that without an airtight prenup, ugly claims for the wealthiest partner’s fortune will tear families apart and result in vicious years of court wrangling. They usually say that with a wink of the eye and “cat swallowed mouse” smile.

There have been many cases of old, wealthy men who marry very young women – often strippers or exotic dancers – and at their death a prenup is found leaving his millions to her and not his legitimate children. Do the name Anna Nichol Smith come to mind? Anna swears that she and her husband in his 90s dearly loved each other and had many things in common. They both loved soup. She protests with her last ounce of breast…I, meant, breath…breath not breast…that he wanted her to inherit his many of hundreds of millions rather than his lousy son.

For all those who believe in prenuptials with the same passion as they do The Tooth Fairy the Geezer has news. Before you put that last fang under the pillow read on.

A Sanford, Florida couple thought they had the secret to marital bliss. They signed a prenup containing some eccentric and amusing demands just to prove that their marriage didn’t really need one and would be a long and loving one. Before exchanging vows in 2001, the couple agreed to a quirky prenuptial agreement much to the horror of friends. The wife promised to cook breakfast at least four times a week, and, in return, the husband promised not to wake his bride up on her “off days,” according to the document. The agreement also required him to rub her back three times a week for five minutes. If she used a certain expletive, she would be sentenced to one hour of yard work. He would pay a fine of $5 each time he complained, nagged or made “a fuss about her expenditures.” They left out the part about yodeling in the shower or walking pigeon-toed through the daisies.

Despite their carefully laid plans and laugh-filled prenup the marriage lasted a grand total of 3-1/2 months. She was served notice of a divorce suit. Without telling her he secretly went to court and got a default judgment against her. Documents show that he was granted an uncontested divorce without her knowing about it or appearing in court. Guess their marriage license wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on.

Here is a case where a couple prepared a prenuptial agreement as they were advised by Donald Trump on a television talk show where he expounded, as he is wont to do, on many things including the secret of his three or four unsuccessful marriages. This couple listened and thought their troubles were over. They had all angles covered. They were doing the right thing. It just goes to show that a legal document doesn’t mean spit if at the end of the day he felt, in the words of Henny Youngman, “Take my wife, please.”

BASEBALL'S BIGGEST PROBLEM.

It’s been obvious for years that the national pastime is on life support and its prognosis doesn’t look good. I’m not talking about overeating which is one national pastime or bribing congressman and senators that’s become a popular pastime in Washington…I’m talking about the real national pastime – major league baseball.

Major league baseball is in big trouble. Attendance continues to drop faster than Joan River’s face; players have become overpaid, spoiled, steroid using disgraces and the Commissioner’s office has a “gone fishing” sign hanging in its window. One of the Commissioner’s main jobs is to level the playing field – to see that every major league team has a chance to fairly compete for division titles and hopefully get into the World Series

However, instead of instituting a salary cap on team rosters like the NFL and NBA which would restrain rich, deep pocket teams from dominating the acquisition of high priced players, Commissioner Bud Selig pushed through a “luxury tax” against teams that decide to pay, because they can, obscene amount of money buying star baseball players from other teams with smaller pocket books. The “luxury tax” doesn’t work.

The New York Yankee’s multi-millionaire owner George Steinbrenner loves the “luxury tax.” Paying it is chump change to him. His franchise makes more money than any other team and he’s able to spend more money than Donald Trump does on hair spray. Every year, George buys players that he thinks will improve the Yankees and weakens his opponents. He spends hundreds of millions on a single player like he just did for a Red Sox star and even had the chutzpah to make the guy shave his beard and get a haircut. So much for the “luxury tax” evening the playing field.

The only solution to truly “even the playing field” is for all teams playing the Yankees to forfeit the game. That means that the Yanks will win every game on the schedule and no baseball fan with an I.Q. larger than his neck size will pay an admission to see a “none game.” The same goes for TV revenue. What sponsor is going to pay for a broadcast that never happens? The loss in income to “Daddy Warbucks” Steinbrenner will be enormous and he won’t be able to buy every player he wants. That will finally bring baseball back to what it’s supposed to be – a fair, fun game played by athletes and enjoyed by fans.

IN DEFENSE OF HALLIE BARRY'S KNOCKERS.

I’m not a cat person. I’m allergic to most of them…especially the kind of cat that eats people. I came by this fear only after one of his pussies decided to make a meal out of Roy of Siegfried &….

Cats are really strange. They’re arrogant, smug, sly, cunning and aloof. They glance at humans with that superior, supercilious look that says, “Schmuck, what are you looking at?” Most felines are not cuddly and warm like dogs. They don’t need people’s love and approval….they are totally independent. If I wanted something cold and unfeeling to make me feel inferior and needy I’d still be married.

My dislike for cats is so ingrained that I refused to see Hallie Barry in “Cat Woman” even though she showed a boob. Normally, I’d walk through fire to see her boob or even her earlobe. Another thing that drives me crackers is cat’s behavior. They climb up and hide on top of things and stare spitefully at you from bookshelves. It’s not normal. Dogs stay on the ground where they belong or if you let them, jump on a couch or two.

Most experts believe that cats are untrainable. They don’t do tricks, fetch, jump in the air and grab Frisbees or love to dive into water. They’re just there… hanging around. Dropping hair like stroke victim Dick Clark drops consonants.

It’s this popular belief that caused me to say, “whatthehey” when I read about Tommy, a orange and tan striped cat, living in Columbus, Ohio. Maybe we have been all wrong about cats and their being untrainable. It seems the police received a 9-1-1 call and when they arrived at the apartment they found Tommy lying by a telephone on the living room floor with a shit-eating grin on his face. The cat’s helpless owner was on the ground near his bed having fallen out of his wheelchair.

The owner told the police that his cat must have hit the right buttons to call 9-1-1. “I know it sounds kind of weird,” said one of the cops unsuccessfully searching for some other explanation. The owner said he couldn’t get up off the floor because of pain from osteoporosis and mini-strokes that disrupt his balance. He also wasn’t wearing his medical-alert necklace and couldn’t reach a cord above his pillow that alerts paramedics that he needs help.

Police said police received a 9-1-1 call from the apartment, but there was no one on the phone. Police called back to make sure everything was OK, and when no one answered, they decided to check things out. That’s when they found Tommy, the cat, next to the phone.

The helpless owner got the cat three years ago to help keep him company. Although the cat wasn’t a very good conversationalist he was friendly. The owner tried to train Tommy to call 9-1-1, unsure if the training ever stuck. The phone in the living room is always on the floor, and there are 12 small buttons – including a speed dial for 9-1-1 right above the button for the speaker phone.

Obviously, we are all guilty of not giving cats enough credit for being able to be trained. Tommy must have called emergency when his owner was in distress. He’s a hairy, catnip-lover hero any way you slice it. When the police looked at Tommy in admiration Tommy just looked that them as if to say, “What are you looking at Schmuck? Of course I can dial a stupid phone; I can also cook a soufflé that’d knock your blackjack off.”

I hate to admit it but perhaps I’ve been wrong about cats. Just for that I’m going to run out and buy a DVD of “Cat Woman” and admire Ms. Barry’s boob.

SIT, FETCH, HEEL, KILL!

It’s about time that someone has stood up and exposed the canard that certain breeds of dogs are violent and dangerous. Since no one else is stepping up to the plate it falls on the Geezer’s broad, muscular shoulders to take on the job. I come to the defense of the Pit Bull, Mastiff, Doberman, Rottweiler, Weimaraner and German Shepherd. These hounds have taken the rap as untrustworthy killers who might turn on their owners and rip their arms and legs off just for laughs.

No one mentions the Xoloitcuintili in the same way and for good reason. No one can pronounce it. The same can be said for the Tepeizeuintli and Tervueren breeds of dog. These mutts not only are rare but don’t take kindly to nicknames like: Mookie and Pookie. Another often overlooked dog is the famous Wirehaired Pointing Griffon which will begin pointing at the drop of a griffon.

The truth is that any dog at any time can become vicious and a potential killer especially after eating a bowl laced with date rape kibble. Case in point: Fremont, California reported that a police officer was attacked by a pack of angry Chihuahuas.

You can imagine the shock and horror that this policeman felt when escorting a teenager home following a traffic stop and finding his life in danger. The officer suffered minor injuries including bites to his ankles when the five Chihuahuas escaped the 17-year-old boy’s home and rushed the officer in the doorway. The officer was treated at a local hospital and returned to work less than two hours later. However, it is possible that this police officer might begin suffering from post-traumatic syndrome and will begin reliving the ankle attacking incident. A Hollywood studio has tried to option the cop’s story intending to make a movie of it starring Cher as the Chihuahua.

No police agency trains its men and women in the art of fending off ankle attacks. Should the officer use Mace or pull their service weapon and shoot to kill? It now becomes clear why Xavier Cugat always held Chihuahuas in his arms…it wasn’t to protect him against Abby Lane – they were his bodyguards. Hence the bumper sticker, “Don’t futz around with Chihuahuas if you value your ankle.”

Fremont is a very strange town, indeed. It seems to be plagued by bizarre incidents. Recently, another homeowner reported that an intruder broke into her home and added pornography to her computer. The woman said she woke up and was startled to see a stranger typing away on her computer. The intruder fled, but left behind an altered screen saver that featured images of “erotic Indian art.” After reporting the incident the woman immediately traveled to Mexico and bought a few killer Chihuahuas for protection.

So let's hear no more about Pit Bulls and other dangerous animals. The next guppy you buy might be the end of you.