Saturday, November 30, 2013

Jesus drove a Honda, but he didn't talk about it

"For I did not speak of my own accord" –John 12:49

Monday, August 26, 2013

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Oh! Those steamy 1950s!

In the back pages of those old "men's" magazines were found the sources of the good stuff. Enough to make 12-year-old's hands tremble, make their imaginations run amok, make them short of breath. Oh God!

Previously (the ad said, so it must be true) only a select circle of Hollywood producers could indulge in these unspeakable delights, but finally (thanks to modern science?) all was laid bare (as it were) to the masses, the common man. Or common boys, as mostly happened. My own budget hardly allowed the luxury of expensive dirty movies, let alone the ability to buy a projector. But I read the ads, pondered, envisionated.

Mostly these magazines were found in drugstores, as I remember. Drugstores for some reason always had a large magazine rack in the back of the store across from the soda fountain. My friends and I, connoisseurs of the arts all,  patronized Palmer's Rexall Drugs (and photofinishing) in our little town. Main street. Three blocks up from the courthouse. There was no real concern with age in those easier times. Unless a woman waited on you; then she would call your parents and rat you out. So you stalled around for the proprietor to wait on you, an ancient old man named, um, Palmer. He was a pillar of the community, even had a street named after him. His first name was Carl but all of us boys referred to him as "The Weasel". I'm not sure why - the name was just handed down from generation to generation. The Weasel never refused your magazine business if you had enough sense to come in the store alone, in the evening when business was slow and he was the only one on duty. I think he may had lived upstairs. Rumor had it that he would also sell you a rubber if you had enough guts to ask for it (behind the counter of course) which you could then stuff in your wallet's coin compartment for safekeeping until you got lucky and needed it. For 12 year olds, this would usually be several years and in the meantime you could just take it out and show it to your friends for them to marvel at through the cellophane. The wrapping turned yellow and rotted soon enough, as did the contents, so if you ever DID need it, all you would get was dust. It's a sad and unfair world. I myself never worked up enough courage to ask The Weasel to sell me one of those, being always short of cash. Besides, I was a serious reader and not into the wonderful world of biodegradable latex.

Have your quarter ready and hand it to him and hope he didn't have time on his hands to try to embarrass you by making comments about the cover girl. ("She sure has pretty blue underwear, doesn't she, son?") I always tried to save up enough money from my paper route to buy two at once so as to only have to run the gauntlet every second time.

Now that a few years have passed, I suppose I really do know why all the guys called him the weasel.

I was going to talk about good hiding places, but I don't want to bore you. It occurs to me that ladies probably have different childhood memories than men do.

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Country. Gotta Love It.

I turned 21 in prison, doing life without parole. No one could steer me right but mama tried.
—Merl Haggard

Right now on the country tv channel there is a commercial for something called "Colon Flow". Whoa. Says I can get a free 30 day supply. No thanks.

"They literally built me a new vertebra using pieces from my pelvis. And I became one of the very first American Gladiators." By god.

(**these statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration.)

"Stand by your man, and tell the world you love him..."
—Tammy Wynette (just before she left her husband and ran off with George Jones)

"Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life."
—Bobby Bare

The RFD channel boasts the Molly B. Polka Party every Saturday night at 8, Mountain. Previously recorded from Ennis, Texas and Frankenmuth, Michigan. Do you speak Czech? Could you tell if I were faking it while I played an accordion? Are there too many worthless TV channels being offered by DirecTV in New Mexico?

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Don't say nothing bad about my me baby...

Please Don't Talk About Me When  I'm Gone (Charleston)

Please don't talk about me when I'm gone
Even though our friendship ceases from now on
If you can't say anything real nice
It's better not to talk at all that's my advice

Listen to this song sung by somebody else

Monday, June 3, 2013

Do you promise?

I promise
Cross my heart and hope to die
Stick a needle in my eye
If I lie.

One potato two potato three potato four
Five potato six potato seven potato OR
Eeny Meeny Miny Moe
Catch a nigger by his toe
If he hollars let him go
Eeny Meeny Miny Moe
My mother told me to choose this very best ONE!
O-U-T spells out goes HE!

Ready or not, here I come

Childhood is a thirst...

Sunday, May 5, 2013

You may say I'm a dreamer (but I'm not the only one)

"A nation is a political fiction imposed on a social and geographic reality almost always by force, for the benefit of a political minority." —Mario Vargas Llosa

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too...

—John Lennon

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

White smoke

Alexander Pope

I've just learned that the Catholics have chosen a new pope. I am so happy. Now I can eat again. For the past few days I have been afraid to go to the grocers to buy food, for fear of missing the announcement.


Extra post about optional hats (no additional charge):

Sydney Pope

Fisherman Pope/Ohio Amish

Santa Pope

Golf Pope

Yarmulke Pope

French Pope

Patrick Pope


Ronald McDonald Pope

I'm Outta Here Pope
(Baseball Pope)

Texas Pope

Make your own pope hat

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Blonde ambition

A blonde needs extra income, so she's out looking for part-time work. She knocks on the door and a man answers. She asks if he has anything she can do to earn some extra money. He tells her she can paint his porch and he will give her $35. She agrees and he gives her the paint and a big brush. Two hours later, she knocks on the door and tells the man she is finished paining his porch. He pays her $35. She leaves.

She pauses and turns back to face the man and says

"By the way, mister, that's a Jaguar, not a Porsche."

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits

There is probably no lasting cure for the truly dedicated lazy among us.

Thursday, February 7, 2013


English Bob: Actually, what I heard was that you fell off your horse, drunk of course, and that you broke your bloody neck.

Little Bill: I heard that one myself, Bob. Hell, I even thought I was dead 'til I found out it was just that I was in Nebraska.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

And on a sad note, Adullamite's long-time lady friend slipped on the ice today and was run over by a truck...

Odd news story.

18 police officers worked for an hour in Shangdong, China to rescue a woman from a river while 1000 spectators gathered to rubberneck. Because of the large crowd, it became impossible for fire trucks to pass through. Police finally fished the woman out, only to discover the body was really just a blow up sex toy doll. (As it happens, most of these objects are manufactured in Shangdong for export. For the Southeast England market, I believe the article said.) Children's eyes were covered and the crowd dispersed. My theory is she was abducted from the place of manufacture in the lunch bucket of an amorous factory worker and was blown almost completely up on the river bank trysting place when a slip of the lips released her to fly off like a big balloon and land in the river.

I also have a theory on why she floated and how she bobbed up and down to elude police rescuers for so long.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Ada part two

So it came to pass that Ada Lovelace became the first computer programmer, according to computer historians.

Ada was born in 1815 and died in 1852, living to the ripe old age of almost 37. Ada was the only legitimate child of George Gordon, Lord Byron. Byron divorced Ada's mum. Ada's Mum hated Byron. Byron spoiled Ada's mum for poets in general. Ada's mum had custody. Ada's mum steered Ada towards mathematics (as you do in 1820 with girl children) so that Ada wouldn't become a poet and slip into insanity. Like her pa.

And it came to pass that Ada had a friend named Charles Babbage who invented a marvelous calculator thing he called the "analytical engine" that was, they say, the precursor of the modern computer. It was never built (except much later as an experiment in the 21st century) but Ada wrote a program for it. Actually she conceived an algorithm which would theoretically work, and, since she documented it step by step in writing, she was technically a programmer. She did a lot of things. Babbage didn't have the vision to fully realize what he had invented, but Ada did. She knew the thing could, sometime in the far future, do much more than simply crunch numbers.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

A poem in the style of Bobby Burns

Sing out, bild wells, to the sild why,
Th clying floud, the losty fright:
The dear is nying in the dight;
Sing out, bild wells, and det'm lie.
Sing out the gnu, sing in the auld,
Sing, bappy hells, snross t'crow:
The gear is yo-ing, let gim ho;
Sing out the talse, sing in the frue.
Sing out the srief that maps the gind
For those that see we mere no hore;
Sing out the reud of pich and foor,
Sing in medress to all rankind.

It has lots more lines, but I'm getting bored. I am glad I am proficient in the gaelic but sometimes it just grates.

[Apologies to Alfred, lord byron... son.]

Speaking of which, can you remember what Ada contributed to the evolution of the computer? (This is a test.) Besides lending her name to a programming language?

Hint: I got rhythm, you got rhythm, we ALLgo'rithm.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Hard to discern if this is spam or not

This particular spam was probably from one of Adullamite's resident spammers. You can tell by the exquisite command of the English language. I wonder how many people who get this actually click on the (assumed) porn link provided?

              "The Better Business Bureau has been booked the above mentioned appeal from one of your customers in respect of their business relations with you. The detailed description of the consumer's disturbance are available visiting a link below. Please give attention to this question and notify us about your sight as soon as possible.
We politely ask you to click and review the APPEAL REPORT to meet on this claim.
We awaits to your prompt response."            


There is another link at the bottom to "unsubsribe" but it probably takes the clicker to the same porn site.

Out of curiosity, I wonder why "the" BBB would allow you to unsubscribe from their complaint emails? And since there are at least a million BBBs, is this one really the Ultimate BBB for the world? I wonder. At any rate, it was really hard for me not to believe this was the real thing and not just some regular SPAM. It looks so realistic.

P.S. My sight is weak (and probably jaundiced) towards this appeal/disturbance.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Passions and Follies

Of all the passions of mankind, the love of novelty most rules the mind. In search of this, from realm to realm we roam. Our fleets come loaded with every folly home.
—Shelby Foote