A 101 Year Old Marathon Runner Discovered The Secret Behind Limitless Energy!!!

You think I’m going to tell you? Get the hell out of here!

Yeah, I read the story. Marathon runner! A hundred and one, with my prostate every piss is a marathon.

Did I discover something? How would I know? I can’t remember what day it is. Where the hell am I?

Look, lady, I’m trying to run here. See that peak? I’m heading up there now. Say, what’s wrong with you? You’re panting like my spaniel.

These questions about what I eat and drink, what is that? Who cares what I eat and drink? For one thing, I’ve got no teeth. I haven’t been able to taste in years. My wife, when she’s mad at me, she could be feeding me ca ca, pardon my French.

She’s a hundred and fifteen, my wife. Don’t talk to her about my energy. All she cares about is my lack of energy. In the noodle, you understand, and I’m not talking about my head.

That’s her up there. Almost to the top of the peak. She runs ahead so she can get back and cook my dinner, God knows what that might be.

All my family runs. Hers too. My mother was running when I was born. She dragged me behind her by my umbilical cord. Don’t ask me if the placenta is a magic energy food. Remember, I didn’t have teeth back then, either.

You know that saying, the one about not getting old? It was a guy in his nineties said that. What the hell did he know? When I was ninety, I was… I was… What were we talking about? Why are you stopping? You’re gasping like a guppy. We’re no higher than twelve thousand feet or so.

Look, I can’t stop. Come for dinner.

Thanksgiving

At the register, I took out my checkbook and driver’s license.

“Sorry, Ma’am,” said the checkout clerk. “Cash, credit, or debit. We don’t take checks anymore.”

“But I always pay by check,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t carry cash. I don’t own a credit card.”

“What about a bank card?”

“I’ve forgotten its PIN.”

“Lady, lots of stores don’t take checks anymore. Checks are dying out. They’re too easy to bounce. Get yourself a credit card. Get your PIN reset.”

“But what about now? You’ve already checked me out. This is my dinner. The banks are closed.”

I pointed at the BOA counter to the right of the front doors. The lights were off behind it.

“You could try the Cash and Carry,” the clerk said.

“That’s on the other side of town. I’m on foot. You needed to warn us in advance about this.”

“Do you have any cash at home?”

He was just a kid but he was trying to help.

“Is your manager here?” I said.

The boy looked around.

“He’s over in produce,” he said.

I walked over to produce. The manager wore a name tag. Harold Brown. He had some gray in his hair. I explained my predicament.

Mr. Brown walked with me back to the register and we waited for the boy to finish with the customer he was ringing up. My groceries were back in a cart behind him.

“Tom,” said the manager, “we’ll take a check this time.”

“Thank you,” Tom said, relieved. He bagged the groceries and settled the bags in the cart.

“Thank you both,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll go and make arrangements for a credit card and a new PIN for my bank card.”

We all parted friends.

Man Swallows Severed Human Toe At Bar, Drops Mic, Skips Town

[headline, Huffington Post]

It’s not as bad as it sounds. What I learned: don’t go to the karaoke bar and drink heavily in the middle of an argument with your girlfriend.

I had promised Kathy Sue that I’d put our marriage nest egg in the bank but it was still riding around in the back of my van in a tin cookie box. Since Kathy Sue had earned all the money, she objected to the fact that I couldn’t even make the effort to go to the bank and deposit it.

“You’re taking laziness to a whole new level,” she said.

I couldn’t argue. I’m lazy by nature. But Kathy Sue was up to arguing for the both of us.

And by the way, when did “mike” turn into “mic”? Isn’t that, well, a little girly?

So we went to the Hula Hut and sniped at each other while drinking something called Hut Hooch. When it came time for me to sing, I chose “You Light Up My Life,” but when I got to the part where I go “Finally a chance to say Hey, I love you, never again to be all alone…,” I was looking over at Brenda Poltz, or, actually, down her front, and it set Kathy Sue off.

We had exchanged toe rings for our engagement – you can see where this is going – because Kathy Sue is convinced she has knobby knuckles and doesn’t want to call attention to them. On this occasion, she pulled out the pig sticker that she carries in her purse, pushed up the to stage, leaned over, and cut off my toe, the one with the ring on it. I was wearing flip-flops.

She pulled the ring off the toe, glared at me, and swallowed it.

“I’m flushing you out of my life,” she shouted at me. “Just like I’m going to do with this ring when it comes out again.”

Then she threw my toe at me. I caught it and just to spite her or match her or something, I popped it into my mouth and swallowed it.

Out in my van, I was just arriving at the hospital to get the toe stump sewed up when I realized that I still had the nest egg. Actually, it was more money than I’d had in years, it seemed like, so I tied my handkerchief around my foot, stuffed the foot into its work boot, and just kept on going.

Training the Palate

My first entry on Typetrigger, a fun site. The challenge: write a quick piece including the word “spammer.”

Before we married, my husband had to agree to let me civilize him, starting on day one. Otherwise, no go.

I love the man, but when we met, he was a barbarian. Did not change his underwear or socks on a daily basis. Emerged from the bathroom with his hands still dry. Never used a washcloth.

He’s a lovable lug, but really.

Now, after a year of wedded bliss, he is much improved. When he gets up in the morning (after me), he makes the bed. He shaves every morning. He’s cleaner all around.

He says Yes Ma’am and No Ma’am. He opens the door for me. He says please.

At table, he is learning, slowly, to appreciate good food. The first time I served him Eggs Benedict, he stared at the plate, uncomprehending. Ditto my merest excursions into gastronomy, via, for example, veal scallopine with asparagus. My husband’s gustatory tastes (if that is not redundant) remain of the most basic sort, and whereas he readily took to my requests for cleanliness and organization, he has resisted my attempts to educate his palate.

Last night, I placed before him roasted artichoke with chipotle aioli, as a starter.

His visage grew petulant.

“Tonight I want Spam,” he said.

“My dear,” I said, “that’s quite impossible.”

“No,” he said. “I want it.”

” But I’ve made Parmesan pumpkin dumplings.”

“Not tonight,” he said. “It’s Spammer nothing.”

Guaranteed Weight Loss: No Dieting Necessary

Why do diets fail? Because you want to eat! It’s only natural.

Civilization is set up to feed you. Your culture surrounds you with good things to eat. You’ve got to be sick in the head to ignore the blandishments of the food industry. You’ve got to be mentally ill, literally, to lose that blubber. You’re not a fat slob; you’re a child partaking of the fruits of humanity’s evolution toward perfection.

Nonetheless, there is nothing wrong with wanting to be thin. And there is nothing wrong with acting upon this desire.

But not by dieting, for cryeye. Want to end up in an asylum? Go check out your local mental facility. A lot of thin dudes in there!

What are the alternatives? Surgical intervention? Lipo? Medication?

Friend, your body is a temple, not a lab rat. Only God above should be allowed to mess with it. Do you want some money-grubbing sawbones mucking around inside your digestive tract or sucking your essence out from under your skin with a garden hose? I don’t think so.

Which is where the Inner Me Institute comes in.

Park out front. Come in. Tell us how many pounds you want to lose (forty minimum, three hundred maximum). Let us run your credit card and confirm that your payment clears.  Step into one of our private treatment rooms. Change into a tieback hospital gown. Lie down on a comfortable treatment table and let one of our friendly young service techs intubate you. In the blink of an eye, as it seems, you’ll wake up thinner. As thin as you want (and have paid for).

No angst. No drugs (except for the one that knocks you out and keeps you under). You’ll just lie there with enough water flowing into one of your veins to keep you alive.

“When are you going to begin?” you’ll ask when you wake up. You won’t even know that days or weeks or months have passed, until you stand in front of a mirror (with our help) and behold your new self.

One of the young techs will drive you home in your car. Go inside when you get there, accept the admiring stares of your family, and eat something (some vomiting may occur).

When the weight returns, come right on back!

Ex-employee Slams Measles Church

Oh, the itch!

Jesus had chicken pox but he never had measles. You can confirm this in the Epistle to the Walmites in the Apocrypha.

Who did have measles? Search the holy writ. Google “measles god jesus the holy trinity a host of angels and saints true republicans” and see what you get. Nada.

And yet, as far as we can determine, by prayer and introspection, neither God nor Jesus was ever vaccinated!  Measles are caused not by invisible “germs,” but by sin, QED.

I was hired by the One True Megachurch as a greeter. My job was to watch for vaccination marks. Or “Satan’s Mark,” as Reverend Amoebes referred to it. Those with the mark were drawn into the church, placed in positions of power, and then blackmailed. The Reverend also had a thing for those marks, so there was some physical monkey business going on as well. I had no problem with the blackmail, as the receipts were used by the Reverend to  further the ends of the church. I wasn’t provided with the details.

It’s surprising how many different types of mark a measles vaccination can cause. Reverend Amoebes never tired of the variety.

Once the Reverend was through with them, the marked church members were banished.

Naturally, quite a bit of measles and mumps was to be found in the congregation, especially among the children, whereas in the rest of the city the diseases were practically nonexistent. The church was being tested by God. Once it passed the test, measles and mumps would break out all over the metropolitan area and everyone in the church would become immune. In the meantime, we were the Job of congregations, questioning not our suffering, everyone looking like spotted chipmunks with cheeks full of nuts.

Everyone but the Reverend, that is. Miraculously, he remained healthy.

So matters would have remained if I had not surprised the Reverend in his  study late one Sunday evening. Later he claimed that I was sneaking in to get at the chest containing his “slush fund.” I could have sworn he was in the vestry with Pearl Price at the time. She was moaning in there for sure. Was it just the itch?

In his study, the Reverend was changing out of his vestments. He liked to go downtown after midnight wearing black. When I walked in on him, he was between shirts and there on his arm was a vaccination mark.  No way I could miss it.

Now, I’m out on the street, unemployed. Obviously didn’t reach the slush fund. No market in town for my job specialty, not until the city comes to its senses and learns to detest vaccinations like I do.

Haikus about Winter

1

sunset comes sooner
in november. perversely
all the clocks turn back.

2

if i were a bird
i would fly south with the flock
on the first gray day

3

snow on the front walk
cold heavy obtuse. hill snow?
friendly fluffy fun

4

summer my cat sleeps
eighteen hours. when winter comes
he adds a few naps.

5

caught on the mountain
the sky suddenly gray. white flakes
drift down, quiet death.

6

red blood on new snow.
fox and rabbit, teeth tear flesh,
cold reclaims warm life.

7

black sky silver moon
white rolling hills bright lit, their
shadows in gray shade

8

used to have winter
on this dazed greenhouse planet.
they say it was “cold.”

9

Claus at the North Pole
sits grumpy in his work shed
now on a big boat.

10

snowshoe hare, box lunch
for marten,owl, and eagle,
still a happy dad.

11

distant avalanche
powdered sugar tumbling down
taking trees with it

12

gray skies. can’t get up.
cold air. no sun. can’t get up.
don’t ask. can’t get up.

13

evolution is
exchanging thick fur body hair
for gloves hats and coats?

14

apocalypse done
snowflakes drift down poisoned black
snow drifts now ashes

15

i want to wear tees
not layers against the air.
i’ll move farther south.