Herb Gluck was enjoying reading a book on a quiet Sunday afternoon when he suddenly recalled that a number of things on his weekend to-do list had yet to be addressed. Realizing his daughter needed to pack a lunch for school the next day, he wondered if the family pantry contained all the necessary food items. Picking up his phone, Herb immediately called his wife and learned she and his daughter were already at the supermarket making all the necessary purchases. Emergency avoided, Herb returned to his book, content that he’d successfully managed that near miss. Herb had only completed a few more paragraphs of his engrossing spy novel when he remembered that tomorrow was trash day and he had not yet rolled the garbage bin out to the curb. He texted his son to get a status update. Herb’s son texted back that he took out the garbage when he left the house to meet his girlfriend for a study date. Satisfied and mildly surprised to learn that his son had a girlfriend, Herb enjoyed a sip of his Arnold Palmer and again returned to his spy thriller, pleased that he’d put out yet another fire. Moments later, however, he had a start when it struck him that he was supposed to pick up a pizza for dinner that evening. But before he could grab his phone, it buzzed with a notification that a pizza had been delivered and was currently sitting on his front porch. He wasn’t sure who placed the order, but he nonetheless left the delivery person a generous tip. Once again, Herb returned to his book, at last relaxed and satisfied that he finally had everything under control, yet still mildly perturbed that he had to do everything himself.
Tag: humor
Instant Karmala’s gonna get you
Instant Karmala’s gonna get you. Going to knock you on the head. You better get your message together. And don’t be voting red.
Think of poor old Morning Joe, and the folks over at WaPo. They’ve all got second homes, you know. And a portfolio, well there you go.
Instant Karmala’s gonna get you. Going to gaslight you to sleep. Better get yourself together, darling, and get behind the veep.
They all said old Joe’s just fine. Nothing’s the matter with his mind. Then he spaced out on TV. For all to see, it’s not cheap fakery!
Well they all clown on. Like the news, politicians and corporations. Well they all clown on. Come on.
Instant Karmala’s gonna get you. Going to tell it to your face. You better get yourself together, sunshine, and join the presidential race.
It’s way bigger than you and me. It’s even bigger than TV. It’s just our democracy, they’ll fricassee! Just wait, you’ll see!
And they all clown on. Like the news, politicians and corporations. Well they all clown on. On and on and on and on.
Local man cool with kids walking across his lawn
It was one of those delightful summer Saturdays with cloudless blue skies, buckets of sunshine and comfortable warm temperatures. Due to recent severe weather activity with accompanying high winds, many in the neighborhood were out gathering fallen branches and debris and stacking it out by the curb for the street department to pick up. Traffic was scarce with the locals opting to walk or ride bikes. Children played on the sidewalk and groups of aimless teenagers slunked around the neighborhood.
As I worked in the yard, one such group of foot-draggers emerged from the alley next to my house. Unused to performing ninety degree right turns, this cohort opted instead for a softer forty-five degree angle across my front lawn. From my vantage point in the bushes where I was pulling weeds and gathering debris, I could have barked at them to “Get off my lawn!” and scared the living daylights out of them. However, as tempting as that was, it’s just not my style and it just wasn’t one of those days.
It was a day for taking it slow, for hearing laughter in the wind, for observing streaks of sunlight flickering through the trees, for unexpectedly intercepting the aroma of a distant backyard grill. There is truly something surreal about days like these. Time slows. Space is deep-focused and static. Noticeably absent is the relentless barrage of stimuli that mark most afternoons. Even the temperamental teens had pocketed their phones and were just enjoying each other’s company. It could have been 25 years ago. It could have been 50 years ago. Hell, if there weren’t a bunch of shiny metal boxes sitting in the street, it could have been over a hundred years ago.
However, somewhere beyond the tranquil scene lay an unseen realm. If at that moment I could observe it, I’d probably notice unremitting algorithms passing over my head, demanding care and attention. I would hear sniping voices, users getting ‘owned’ and people presuming the worst and often getting it from one another. An illusory world casting a dark shadow over our psyches, while increasingly vomiting its madness into the real world.
Thankfully, I was far away from that chaotic place, and all I could think about was how remarkable and strange it is to be alive and standing beneath the sun and these trees in this perfect moment of stillness and peace, while a group of foot-dragging teenagers walked across my lawn.
Build Back Biden
Not long into last week’s presidential debate, it became apparent that the Biden operating system was timing out and beginning to power down. The President’s debate handlers desperately tried to get Lunch Pale Joe back on track, but to no avail. A frantic call went out to the President’s aides:
“White House, I can’t hold him! He’s breaking up! He’s breaking up!”
The mood among Biden’s team went from disbelief and denial to gloom and hopelessness in the span of a commercial break. Maddow, Reid and Wallace quickly surmised that Trump must have wielded some occult MAGA magic and surreptitiously cast a spell of confusion over the unsuspecting Commander-in-Chief.
After the initial meltdown had subsided, Morning Joe broke in to rally the Biden forces:
“Joe Biden, President, a man barely awake after 8:00 p.m. People, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We can make him better than he was. Better . . . stronger . . . faster. We can extend his hours past 8:00 p.m. They will say, ‘Joe never closes.’ They will call him, ‘24-Hour Joe.’ They will know that even if the dining room is closed, the drive-thru is still open. We can Build…Back…Biden. He will be the world’s first six trillion dollar president.”
Las Vegas police remove alien monolith citing safety and environmental concerns
A prism shaped alien monolith was recently discovered by Las Vegas Metro Search and Rescue in an area near Gass Peak about an hour north of the city. The 77 inch structure had to be removed due to improper permitting and safety concerns.
“A message to the aliens: if you’re going to drop one of your monolith devices in our community, you better take out a permit,” LVMPD said in a post on Facebook.
No one is exactly sure whether the aliens have a presence on Facebook.
“A communication monolith is subject to municipal and county zoning restrictions as well as FCC regulations,” the message continued. “Before erecting an interdimensional portal device, one would need to go through an extensive permitting process and be approved by the city’s building department. Also, a number of environmental impact studies would need to be performed. Most of these permits can be obtained for a reasonable fee at the Clark County Building Department on Russell Road.
“At this point, the monolith is in violation of several state and local ordinances. It has been impounded and will be released to the owner when all fines have been paid and it is shown to be in compliance with said ordinances,” the message concluded.
Authorities confirmed no alien representatives have appeared at the police station to retrieve the monolith. Some officials speculate the aliens may be abandoning attempts at global domination due to extensive and burdensome red tape.
Strange scenes in the alley 3
Anyone familiar with Strange scenes in the alley 2 might remember that a few months back I had to run off a couple of amorous young people attempting to have sexual relations in my driveway. Why they wouldn’t realize that parking in someone’s driveway is bound to catch the attention of the property owner and prompt an immediate inquiry is a detail I still can’t wrap my head around. However, lucky for them, I’m one of those “cool” cranky old guys, so instead of calling the cops as my wife had urged, I just knocked on their car window and berated the shit out of the lovestruck pair, causing them to go from on fire with passion to frightened scattering rabbits in a couple of milliseconds.
So, a few nights ago, I woke up at 3:30 in the morning to use the bathroom, because I’m 56 years old and that’s the way I roll, and what do I see out my back window but a car parked in front of my garage. This time I didn’t need to investigate to have a pretty good idea what was going on back there: that randy young ram was again tupping his fair ewe. Doubtless, he was in the car bragging to the young lady, “I’ll show that grouchy old sack of excrement that I can screw in his driveway any time I feel like it.”
It being 3:30 in the morning, I was in no mood to go outside and interrupt their carnal congress. Defeated, I went back to bed, resolving that if by daybreak they were still back there humping in the dawn, then I’d go out and give them a bit of the old ultra remonstration.
Of course, I laid in bed thoroughly vexed. What do I have to do to keep a couple of young people from copulating in my driveway? And why my driveway? It’s a tiny patch of cement, between my garage and the alley, barely big enough for one vehicle. There are like three other garages back there with much better park and hump options than mine. Why of all the places in this city to pull over and make the beast with two backs did they choose my drive? I wondered if this was a topic of discussion on the neighborhood Facebook group: How to keep young people from having intimate relations on your property.
Perhaps I should cut the younger generation some slack. From what I’m reading about Gen-Z, out of control intimacy is not a big problem with that cohort. Instead of being the cranky old man yelling at clouds, telling kids to get off my lawn, and shooing highly amorous young folk off of my property, maybe I should try being a little more understanding and accommodating. I just don’t want my tiny driveway to turn into a Gen-Z shag pad.
How many more falsified documents are out there?
As the nation breathes a sigh of relief that a serial document falsifier has finally been brought to justice, some are starting to ask, “Why did it take so long?” The 34 falsified documents that we know about happened eight years ago, begging the question, how many documents have been falsified since? For eight years, this now convicted felon has been allowed to be in the same room alone with documents, hold documents in his tiny hands and even keep them in his mansion overnight. What unspeakable lies has he committed to paper? What diabolical alterations has he made?
So far the only documents he’s been charged with falsifying have been in the state of New York. Thanks to the tireless work of prosecutors there, the convicted felon will no longer be allowed anywhere near documents and will forever carry the shame of being a registered document offender. But in the past eight years this man has traveled extensively and has resided in Washington D.C. and Florida. Prosecutors in these jurisdictions owe it to the public to reinvestigate every instance of a falsified document to see if they can be traced back to this man.
The verdict just read, Americans are bracing themselves for the rioting and mayhem that is sure to follow. News outlets like Reuters, MSNBC, The Independent and others are sounding the alarm as supporters of the convicted felon pour into the streets, like in a Batman movie, to unleash chaos on a peace-loving, non-document falsifying public. Even now these hooligans are no doubt planning to commit billions of dollars in property damage, rip the heart out of our democracy and swallow it whole while it’s still beating. Good thing we have a defiant media standing by ready to shine a spotlight on their misdeeds.
‘Word-salad’ deciphering AI expected in time for Trump/Biden debates
Competing teams of programmers at Google and Facebook have been working furiously in recent months to develop AI capable of deciphering, in real time, the seemingly random jumbles of words that flow from the mouths of Donald Trump and Joe Biden.
With the election just months away, the stakes are high as Americans have a short attention span for meandering nostalgic musings and barely comprehensible babble. Network producers are hoping to unveil the new technology at upcoming debates so the candidates’ responses to debate questions can be interpreted and transmitted to viewers in real time.
“Currently, the process of arriving at an answer to the question, ‘What the hell did he just say?’ involves dozens of journalists and commentators breaking down the candidate’s most confusing utterances and speculating for days, even weeks, about what the candidate may have meant. The process often involves mining past statements, pointing to the candidate’s record, or pulling from their personal history to provide even the faintest glimmer of clarity,” said MSNBC producer Cheryl Woodhouse.
Anders Gerital, head of senior special projects at Google expects the new technology to do away with all the needless speculation and guesswork. “Utilizing advanced algorithms, the work of hundreds of humans can be done instantaneously. Debate viewers will know in real time what the candidates are trying to say, even if the candidates don’t know themselves. The algorithm has access to the entire body of each candidate’s public pronouncements as well as all available private correspondence and decision-making. It will rely heavily on communications from a time when each candidate was much more lucid than they are currently. The technology will be able to literally start and finish their sentences.”
The project aims to eventually create digital copies to be utilized in case the commander-in-chief becomes incapacitated, or to assist the president in carrying out his ceremonial duties.
“We’re already 85% complete toward having each man’s consciousness digitally downloaded,” added one Facebook developer. “It’s actually remarkable how little server space each man’s brain occupies. You could literally carry it around on a thumb drive.”
That’s reassuring to campaign staff. However, most of their communication team are just delighted they will no longer have to go on X or cable news and clean up after one of their bosses’ word-salad explosions.
“Half the time I feel like a clown with a pooper-scooper, following my boss around and cleaning up after he shits out yet another load of nonsense,” said one Biden staffer.
Dozens excuse themselves to use restroom during Seinfeld commencement speech
Approximately 30 students out of 7,000 attending the Duke University graduation ceremony were suddenly overcome with the urge to relieve themselves just as commencement speaker Jerry Seinfeld was about to deliver his address. The barely perceptible exodus caused a bit of a stir as some booed the small group, while most of the attendees burst into chants of “Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!” Despite the minor interruption, Seinfeld’s fifteen minute speech was well received, eliciting frequent laughter and drawing several rounds of applause from the commencement crowd of 20,000.
It is not known whether any of the 30 students were able to make it back to their seats in time for Seinfeld’s closing remarks. However, their absence caused a great deal of concern in the national media with dozens of outlets breathlessly covering the much publicized pee break. NBC News, CNN, USA Today, The New York Times, Business Insider and many more characterized the paltry pee parade as a student walkout.
No doubt the handful of urinators were pleasantly surprised to discover their restroom visitation received a tremendous amount of media attention. However, the rest of humankind must have thought they’d entered the bizarro world when they woke to discover a pee story dominating the news cycle. Many news consumers found themselves justifiably flummoxed over how such a low-level urination event could attract so much media scrutiny.
One could understand all the brouhaha if a quarter to a half of the assembled crowd got up to pee simultaneously. That would be big news, warranting much scuttlebutt and no small amount of hubbub. But like a tenth of a percent? Perhaps it’s only fitting that a Seinfeld commencement speech would attract so many stories about nothing.
New glasses, big problems
Lately, I’ve been receiving signals that I ought to do something about my eyesight. The menu board at an unfamiliar takeout restaurant can be confusing enough, but if you can’t read the selections, then you’re pretty screwed. I tried just making up menu items for a while. I would say, “Just give me a club sandwich, or something.” Then the order taker would politely inform me of their choices that most closely resemble a club sandwich, which often just included the addition of avocado, and I’d say, “That would be fine,” and we’d go from there. But, lately, they’ve begun to treat me like I’m illiterate or something, speaking to me slowly and patiently like I’m a child. Even my own daughter began to shoot me looks that seemed to doubt my literacy.
So, at the urging of my better half, I decided to get new glasses. Several hundred dollars later, these cheap plastic spectacles seem to have brought about an entirely new set of challenges. Don’t get me wrong, they’ve also opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Before, I mostly stuck to driving familiar routes because I had difficulty reading signs and recognizing landmarks. But now that I can read highway signs, I’m exploring entirely new realms and unfamiliar territory. Also, it came as a pleasant surprise to see that the speed limit on most highways has been raised from 55 to 70. This explains why I’d been the recipient of so much hostility from other drivers in recent years.
The challenges invariably arise when I’m indoors. I seem to have difficulty and lack confidence knowing where to place my feet. This has caused me to stumble around and bump into doorways at work. My boss has been looking askance at me like I’m intoxicated or something. But I assured her I haven’t been drunk or stoned at work for pretty close to ten years now. Also, going down stairs is like descending into a murky abyss. Sometimes I just close my eyes and hope for the best.
However, an incident this morning might be the final straw as far as these new glasses are concerned. I had just gotten a cup of coffee at Starbucks from the friendliest group of young people you’d ever want to meet, when I merrily strode out to the parking lot to get in my car and head to work. For some reason, however, I had a difficult time unlocking the car door. The key fob didn’t seem to work and when I tried to manually unlock the door, the key wouldn’t fit in the lock. After a few moments, a woman came running out of the Starbucks with one of the larger male employees shouting at me to get away from her car and that she’s calling the cops. Mortified, I noticed that my car was in the next space over, so I hurriedly jumped in it and sped out of there like Vin Diesel. I made it to work without incident, not knowing whether an a.p.b. had been issued for my capture. At any rate, I’m probably going to ditch these glasses, but I may wear them for another week as an aid to eluding authorities, or at least until the heat has died down.
If there is something 