TAKE IT EASY..CHAIR.

Many of you have suggested that the Geezer is like the ‘town crier’ – keeping all of you apprised of the latest news of interest. I appreciate the honor but like to think about myself as the ‘town kvetcher.’ The purpose of my rants is to educate you about the latest scams and injustices that are waiting just around the corner. For instance who can forget my exposing the fraudulent television “weight reduction” program that promised buyers that they could lose 86 pounds in just 20 minutes? I mockingly proved that the supposed spokeswoman, in reality, had to be cut out of a hula hoop that day.

Many so-called chic and eastern snobs relish putting down so-called blue collar habits and interests. You know what I mean: bowling for dwarfs, projectile vomiting and collecting all of Jim Nabors’ CDs. Another no-no for the jet set is the idea of ever buying a La-Z-Boy or other recliners. To listen to them it’d be worse than wearing a bowling shirt or attending a stock car race. I have news for those holier-than-thou stuffed shirts…..stick your superior attitude up my egg foo yong!

After hearing about this story I immediately went out and bought 7 La-Z-Boys for my home. My neighbors threw a block part and guffawed when Mendelbaum’s delivery truck pulled up. They hissed when each of the 7 chairs were carried in. They claimed property values would plummet faster than Michael Richard’s reputation.

Here’s what got me so interested in recliners. A man in Walnut Creek, Calif. has more reason than ever to stay put in his La-Z-Boy. He may never leave the easy chair. First, it looks directly at his 10-inch black and white TV set with rabbit ears – you know the kind with aluminum foil – the reason he’s so gung-ho for his chair is because it saved his life. It seems his little bride snuck up behind him and tried to shoot him in the head. It obviously wasn’t one of her better days.

Miracle of miracles the La-Z-Boy absorbed most of the bullets force and left him virtually unscathed. The couple had been arguing about whether Sam Donaldson wears a toupee, said the Sheriff’s Dept. Jan Kemp took exception at her hubbies claim that Sam wasn’t wearing a rug but a bird nest. She went into the bedroom, got her pistol, snuck up behind her husband and fired the gun at the back of his head. Because she fired through the recliner, the bullet only slightly wounded Norman causing him to drop his brewskie. He stood up from his chair, followed his wife into the kitchen and declared, “You done shot me and where the hell are the pretzels?” according to authorities. Jan had been trying to get Norman to stay on a diet and at the mention of pretzels fired a second shot at him, but missed. The police were called and she was arrested on suspicion of attempted murder and trying to damage an easy chair.

I don’t want to hear any high-brow, fancy pants ever putting down a La-Z-Boy again. Maybe we should start equipping our troops in Iraq with them to stop them being killed.

OLD STINKY.

As anyone knows, who has an I.Q. higher than a bivalve, airports and flying has become a pain in the tush. With the quixotic terror alert color scheme that bureaucrats at Homeland Security, with the personalities of a Brussels sprout, have used to frighten travelers – can anyone explain to the Geezer what ‘an orange alert’ means? Orange is such a pussy color…why don’t they make it “red” that’s scary and likely to fend off any card carrying terrorist. If they had a fashion sense they’d name the security alerts shantung or pinstriped.

I don’t even want to discuss the idiot who instituted the rule about passengers not being able to carry shaving cream or hair gel on a plane. He’s probably the kind of guy who invested his life savings in the DeLorean Motor Company. If you’re too young to remember DeLorean – get older. Back to air-travel: airports are horrible, flights are never on time, the seats are only comfortable if you happen to be an anorexic, flight attendants, who used to be called stewardesses and were gorgeous, now look like everyone’s ugly grandmother and bother the hell out of customers especially those sleeping. “Thanks for waking me up. No, I don’t want a goddamn pillow!”

Everybody flying has become paranoid about terrorists sitting next to them. Any passenger with darkish skin, wearing a diaper on his head and answering to the name Mahmoud – is in deep shit. Just because he might be carrying a naked picture of Osama doesn’t mean a thing. God forbid he presses the button to call for a flight attendant – he will probably get tasered in his schlong. However, it’s a good idea for all of us to be on guard against menaces that’s why I never flew with my ex-wife.

Recently a British Airways crew threw a passenger off a flight and he tried to sue for damages. The flight took off from Duesseldorf, Germany and other passengers became aware of a horrible, disgusting smell. No, a mouse didn’t die in an overhead bin although the smell probably would have killed one – the offending stink was tracked to a male passenger. It was easy to pick him out – flies were circling him holding their noses. This dude smelled as bad as a New York cabby! When passengers sitting near him began to gag and upchuck, the airline crew asked him if he could put on a fresh shirt. He declined saying his shirt was perfectly clean even though it had been used in a cock flight the night before. Besides he claimed that he smelled just like his mother who liked to roll around in skunk entrails. The fellow was escorted off the flight about two minutes before take off.

Old ‘stinky’ tried to sue the airline for damages claiming that he couldn’t help sweating after carrying three suitcases in 29 degrees of heat and sitting in the airport for two hours with no air conditioning. He did admit to sweating even while taking a shower. After hearing all sides the judge removed his gas mask and ruled in favor of the airline. Although he did present the passenger with a lifetime supply of deodorant. ‘Stinky’ thought it was food and ate the entire carton so at least his breath will smell clean.

STOP BUYING GIFTS.

It’s holiday time again. Doesn’t it seem like its holiday time? The trickiest thing about holidays is getting the right gift for that special someone. Buying the right gift is a no win situation. Some pains are never grateful and complain that your gift is the wrong size, color or useless to them. Ungrateful swine! For my last birthday I received 10-gifts…they were all pajamas.

Wives, mothers and girlfriends are really difficult to purchase anything for. Especially if its clothes. Problem number one is, you can’t ask a woman what her size is…she will just get pissed and tell you it’s none of your damn business and she plans to lose a few pounds as soon as the holiday season is over. Besides she will tell you that you have no taste in clothes. Pointing to your torn t-shirt – the one with the stains – and tell you that, “she rests her case.” Guys are easy – a six pack or a baseball hat that says, “Kiss my grits” is usually just fine.

To show you how crazy people get at holiday time my mother once called to complain that I loved my father better than I did her. Forget that she was right…I defensively told her that nothing could be further from the truth and what gave her that silly idea? She pointed out that I had sent both of them Christmas cards and his cost more than hers. She actually looked at the back of the cards. No wonder I decided to become an orphan.

Recently a man walked into Toys “R” Us and raised hell about a police toy that they were selling. They toy set, named “Elite Operations Role Play Set: Police,” includes a nightstick and utility belt. No mace – that’s for next year. What’s the problem you ask? This uptight dude claimed the toy set that he gave to his 6-year old son uttered a curse word. A recorded message that includes what sounds like a curse word plays when the nightstick is removed from the belt. “I’ve had to explain to parents why my son is saying the f-word; it’s horrible. It’s a cute little toy; but God forbid, it’s not was I want my kid hearing.”

The Geezer says, “Why the hell not?” Every six-year-old I know says a lot worse than that to their parents and friends. Most use language that would make a shipload of Greek sailors blush. A spokesman for Toys “R” Us swore that the toy maker tested the recording and found nothing wrong. “It must have been a faulty chip,” said the manufacturer, it should say, “Stop, I don’t want to have to pull out my nightstick!”

A big deal was made out of a simple mistake. The complaining dad probably would rather have his son play “Doctor and Nurse” with the 5-year-old girl next store and get her knocked up. Six-year-olds today are sneaky buggers. The store manager decided to take back the toy cop and allow the father to pick another toy for his filthy mouth kid. The father should really be arrested by the toy cop because he loudly yelled at the employees, “Take you friggin’ toy and stick it up your fat booty. I don’t want my goddamn kid learning any curse words unless he learns them from me!” How would his kid like 10-pairs of slightly stained pajamas?

LOVE YOUR ANIMAL.

There’s a great saying that for every man there’s a woman. Is it true? Probably….maybe….nah! If it was, why are there so many people hanging around piano bars wearing outlandish outfits and practicing pick-up lines? I had to stop using my favorite one, “I understand egg futures are up.” Why are they desperately subscribing to dating services and internet love sites? Most of them promise that you will find your love match for only 12-thousand dollars a month. Whatever your particular needs or desires are they will fulfill them. If you are looking for a woman who will allow you to have sex with her while she is eating a plate of watercress – look no further. Looking for an albino dwarf? Just sign up. Wanting to meet a sex goddess with dengue fever, look no more.

I can speak from personal experience that most of these internet ‘meat markets’ are fakes. I joined one after signing over my house, filling out the boring application and waited with baited breath for the woman of my dreams. One whiff of my baited breath was enough to scare off a lot of them. They guaranteed that if within six months I didn’t find my soul mate they would refund my money. When I called to get my refund they had moved offices to Calcutta. Big surprise! It’s not like I was looking to find someone unusual. I described her as resembling the love child of Jesse Helms and Grace Slick.

This rant was occasioned by a story that just proves that some people are destined to go through life endlessly searching for ‘their true love.’ A 20-year-old man from Wisconsin thought he had found his ‘love goddess’ but the police objected and arrested him. Damned Gestapo! When they found out that this young, lonely venison lover had sex last month with a dead deer they slapped him into jail. They claim that he’s a serial nutcase because he had previously served time for killing a horse he intended to sexually assault. Okay, okay, maybe young Mr. Hathaway is a tad strange….

His lawyer filed a court motion arguing that since the deer was already dead, Hathaway should not face a misdemeanor rap for sexual gratification with an animal. “The statute does not prohibit one from having sex with a carcass,” his attorney claimed. The judge in the case is actually studying the lawyer’s claim. Obviously, the lawyer and judge should be disbarred and tarred and feathered, but authorities are afraid that if Hathaway spots them with feathers on he might just try and boink them.

If our animals aren’t safe from some loved-starved lunatic there is only one solution. Speaker Nancy Pelosi and the Democrats in the House should immediately pass a law prohibiting humans having sex with dead animals. The hell with minimum wage, health care and funding the war in Iraq – write your congressperson and insist they bar anyone from getting to third base with possums, alligators and other critters.

NO WRITER'S BLOCK HERE.

I have been a lucky Geezer for most of my professional life. The dreaded ‘writer’s block’ must not have my address. Some writer friends have not been as fortunate. Chris has had writer’s block for many years. Last year’s output was a series of commas. Helen, was under analysis for her block and finally, finally she was able, with the help of medication, to write her first play, “A Mother’s Gums.”
Another pal was fired from his job when he had trouble writing two meaningful sentences on “My Favorite Toy.”

This disease is a dreadful malady and there is no known cure for it. A few poor souls have had to give up their dream of becoming a functioning writer and had to find work in network television. One of the reasons I haven’t been plagued with writer’s block is because of nitwit politicians. They are a never ending source of material.

As an example: Voters in Niota, Tennessee elected a fella named James Wayne Cagle to the city council. Cagle with 93 votes edged incumbent Allen J. Watkins by a single vote. Watkins demanded a recount and it took 25-seconds. There were no hanging chads for him to fall back on. Cagle is scheduled to be sworn in to his new city post in two months. So what’s the problem, you ask? Well, the voters apparently unaware he was on the sheriff’s most wanted list. I know, most of us feel that all politicians should be on the FBI’s top ten…but Cagle was the real thing.

It seems he has two outstanding misdemeanor charges. Cagle is accused of failing to appear in court to answer charges of driving on a revoked license and writing a bad check. Doesn’t seem like a big deal until you realize that he’s on the town’s police force. No, I made that up. The voters in Niota claim that if it wasn’t Cagle they would have probably elected some other crook. Part of the requirements for becoming an elected official, anywhere, seems to be a larcenous heart.

The amazing thing is election officials said the criminal charges do not prevent Cagle from taking office. Why the hell should they, it never prevented Senators and members of the House from serving.

As long as there are guys like Cagle running for office there is no writers block in my future.

HALLELUJAH

Apropos of nothing: My information booth is always open especially when it comes to proving that politicians are the lowest life form – I read with interest, and a gagging response, that some putz running for sheriff in a small southern town decided to insure his election by legally changing his name to Andy Griffith. He obviously thought the connection with Mayberry would do the trick. I swear on a plate of grits it’s true. Even the bubbas and bubbettes didn’t fall for this ploy. He was soundly defeated. Now, if he had changed his name to Aunt Bea he might have stood a chance.

Speaking about the south and its collection of rednecks: a redneck is the kind of man who goes to a family reunion to pick up chicks. A 54-year old religious fanatic claims that two small bibles he was carrying in his shirt pocket saved his life when they stopped a bullet. He swore on a stack of bibles that it actually happened. Hopefully those bibles didn’t have a bullet hole in them.

Anyway, he told the southern sheriff who investigated the case that two men ambushed him with a rifle as he carried bags of garbage to a trash can. Southern sheriffs are born with sun glasses on, don’t you know. I have a few questions about this dubious event. Why would he carry two bibles in his pocket while taking out garbage? Does he always carry bibles…even when he takes a shower – which probably isn't often? Are they stapled to his body?

The man said he was carrying two New Testament bibles in his shirt to give to friends. Have you ever heard of anyone else who gives bibles as gifts to friends? What happened to an unfashionable, fat, ugly tie as a gift? Or, a pair of shoe laces? It seems like a very unbelievable scenario. I think this guy was a defrocked bible salesman trying to unload some hot New Testaments. Besides ho ever heard of gunmen carrying a rifle on the job? Maybe they just wanted to heist some garbage when this religious busybody screwed everything up?

The police took the bibles as evidence. Why? Do bullets leave fingerprints? Other than a red mark and a pain in his chest our so-called victim was not injured. I suspect the bible nut was trying to get his fifteen minutes of fame or trying to impress his wife who happened to be pulling the hay wagon, at the time.

Perhaps the Geezer has become a cynic in my old age but this story smells worse than skunk road kill.

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!

Since the Geezer is a very old Geezer he has seen or heard of many strange and weird things that have happened in the past. Almost nothing surprises me. I didn’t bat an eye when it was brought to my attention that some poor soul from the Bronx connected his freckles to form a picture of Larry the Pants Salesman.

I didn’t even blink when a teen in Ohio swore he woke up and the Mormon Tabernacle choir was sitting at the foot of his bed flicking chickens. Or, the shepherd some hundred years ago who was wandering in the Gulf of Aquaba and stumbled upon a cave containing several large clay pots and two tickets to the ice show. I guess I’m immune to being astonished anymore.

At least I was immune until I heard about the naked fellow in El Cerrito, California who was arrested for a concealed weapon. Huh? You heard right, bubba, some nude was hiding what the police thought was a concealed dangerous weapon. When I first read about it I said, “Posh” how the hell can that be true? I don’t say “Posh” very often…usually during a full moon. Occasionally when drinking Shirley Temples I also say, “Pish/Posh” but I have to be really bombed to do that.

Let’s think about it, how can anyone walking around unclothed possibly hide anything dangerous or not? Could the police have been talking about his ‘member’? But there’s no way that could be concealed unless his stomach hangs down to his knees. When the fuzz arrived they found him lying on a tree stump, masturbating besides a nature path. The dude obviously has a different life style than most people. I’m not talking about him masturbating – it happens to be one of the few things I do well – but on a tree stump?

When the police placed him under arrest it was for indecent exposure but when they asked him if he was carrying anything police should know about he admitted that he indeed was carrying a tool in his rectum. The poor sap was volunteering more information than anyone needed to hear. I guess he likes to share. My first thought would be what kind of tool could he be hiding there? A jackhammer, an electric saw, a ladder?

The cops drew their weapons – which where not concealed – and firefighters were called. Why involve them in this sordid incident was not explained. While everyone watched with baited breaths the arrestee removed a 6-inch metal awl wrapped in black electrical tape without comment. “You can’t get more concealed than that,” said one cop. He didn’t explain why he felt the need to have a 6-inch awl in his rectum unless it was in memory of his cellmate. Oh, yeah, the guy was a recent parolee. He was booked into jail on suspicion of parole violations, indecent exposure and one felony count of possessing a dangerous weapon. “When you’re talking about an awl or an ice pick and you’re dealing with somebody who’s fresh out of prison, it’s a weapon. That’s a stabbing instrument,” said the sick-to-his-stomach officer.

I have to admit that this report shocked even me. Just when I thought I’d seen it all some numb-nuts shakes me out of my smug, comfortable cocoon. If the guy hasn’t told the cops they never would have known – he could have walked away – a little funnily but away.

ELECTIONS AREN'T.

Everyone knows what the Geezer thinks of politicians. They are some where between a mud beetle and sphincter. I take that back…they’re not even that good. Some smart dude once said, “Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedy.” That about sums it up.

We have just come thorough another election…but just barely. The lies, the stupidity and outright sleaze were enough to make a cannibal into a vegetarian. It seems that there is nothing a candidate won’t do to be elected except tell the truth. They are as shameless as the judges on American Idol.

I thought I’d heard it all when it came to retards running for office. Retards’ running for office is really an oxymoron. A candidate for the gubernatorial election in Idaho – bet you didn’t know that they have a governor in Idaho – I thought Idaho was the place where all the lost socks from a washing machine goes. Hell, the world famous “Idaho potato” is grown in California. Back to my rant:

What in the world could a wannabe politico pull that would cause me to go into uncontrollable spasms and twitches? A strawberry farmer from Boise decided to run for governor and to prove that he was a man of principal he officially and legally changed his name to – ready? – Pro-Life. I am not kidding. Marvin Richardson is so strongly opposed to abortion that he went to court and did the deed. “I’m the most conservative politician in Idaho,” he proudly claimed. No, Marvin, you are the biggest idiot since Barbara Bush decided to have sons.

This certifiable yutz thought that his stand would, in a Western State known as a conservative bedrock, serve him well. “When the sperm meets the egg, that’s a new person,” he declares. How would he know what a sperm does when it meets the egg? It might tip its fedora and buy the egg a cocktail. I’m not sure his ploy worked with the electorate even though he joins the ranks of Prince, Madonna, Cher and Bono who go by a single moniker. Since his I.Q. is obviously missing in action he felt he should highlight his stand on abortion. To illustrate how dumb this cat is he has only campaigned in his own district. During a candidates’ debate at one point the longshot avoided a question and instead began to pray. It must have been a tough question like who’s buried in Grant’s tomb.

Something tells me that Pro-Life didn’t exactly sweep the voters off their feet. Even he voted for someone else. Think about this: what if candidates all over the country start changing their names to highlight their stands on issues….we could find a Global Warming Goldfarb, a Cut ‘N Run O’Shea, a Higher Gas Tax Smith and A Chicken In Every Pot Winninger. The thought boggles the mind.

PLAN AHEAD...

People are always accused of being in a hurry and rushing around without taking the time to ‘smell the flowers.’ We keep hearing that we should chill and go barefoot in the grass. Those who advocate going barefoot in the grass obviously have never walked in a doggy park.

I’m sure that most of us could benefit from allowing ourselves time off and opportunity to relax more. This, of course, doesn’t work for politicians because they never work anyway. Also, they don’t smell the flowers or walk barefoot – they use their spare time to raise money and grovel to special interests.

The Geezer has always believed in relaxing and completely resting. When I get up in the morning I immediately take a nap. It all started at age nine when I hid in clothing hamper for two years.

Many of the folks with lack of coolness are men and women who are obsessive compulsives. You know the dreaded A-personality types. Those cats spend their whole life planning for things. Checking and re-checking on their particular hang-ups to the frustration of their family and friends. There are many serious psychological problems that can be found in these obsessives. One of the most famous was the man from Spokane who spent most of his life insisting that penguins actually could speak Urdu but where too shy to do it.

Recently, an A-personality middle-aged woman in Germany was obsessed with making arrangements for her own funeral. That’s all she could think about. Sounds a little creepy to me but whatever floats her shroud. She meticulously planned the whole enchilada including choosing her coffin, her headstone and grave sight. She was offered a bargain for a grave sight but turned it down because it was too close to the freeway and she didn’t want to cough. Yes, compulsives are definitely one beer can short of a six-pack.

This strange fraulein would visit her grave almost every day. She would bring flowers to decorate the headstone, have picnics there and often chat with her ‘soon to be self.’ Friends begged her to stop, claiming that it was bad luck and didn’t look good on her resume. She pooh-poohed them insisting that she knew what she was doing. Last week, as this maiden was placing a bouquet of pussy willows on her grave she had a heart attack and dropped dead right on he grave. Splatt! Maybe her obsession wasn’t that crazy after all. Look at the money she saved on funerals, mourners, hearses and flowers.

So, let’s not be too fast to condemn and make fun of compulsives. All their planning and scheming sometimes isn’t as crazy as we think. I’m going out tomorrow and purchase a plot in a pet cemetery just in case I buy a pet. One can’t be too prepared.