-- Not my age. I thought Carla would have killed me by now.
-- Your wife?
-- No Carla is my mother-in-law. She hated me marrying June. She cut the brakes on my car the day we met.
-- What?!
-- She said excuse me while we were all getting acquainted in the living room. We thought she was in the kitchen getting coffee or something but she came back with nothing in her hands, brake fluid on her jeans and dirt under her fingernails.
-- That's outrageous!
-- No kidding. So now June excuses herself for the bathroom and when she is gone Carla leans over to me and says, 'You will marry June over my dead body...or yours.'
-- I would have gotten the hell out of there, Teddy.
-- Geno, we got married anyway.
-- Wait, what happened to the brakes on your car?
-- I went to leave and saw there was brake fluid on the ground. I popped the hood and saw that she had filled the master cylinder with dirt from her garden. She also cut the brake lines just to be sure.
-- What did you do?
-- Called a tow truck.
-- She sounds psycho.
-- I have escaped her death attempts several times now.
-- Man, you must really love your wife.
-- Not really. I'm just staying married to spite Carla.
-- Wow.
-- Yeah.
-- Happy 2025?
-- Sure, why not. I'm still breathing, Geno. I'm still breathing.
January 2, 2025
A new month and I'm already taking days off. The nerve! Mañana, my pretties.
January 3, 2025
This morning I saw
two men fighting over the last snow shovel at Canadian Tire
a dog wearing a bow tie walking by itself down the street
a group of teenagers smoking a joint outside a Subway shop
an old lady struggling to push her walker through 4 inches of sidewalk snow
a flock of pigeons on some power lines bespeckling cars parked below
that the donut shop we like had raised their prices for 2025
a woman who ran a red light and the cop who did a U turn to chase her down
and a fire truck returning to the station covered in ice from dousing some blaze in below freezing temperatures.
To see what I saw this morning, you have to look. Otherwise, all this passes you by while you're staring at your phone worrying whether social media has recognized your importance in the world. Capish?
January 4, 2025
I channel surfed into the worst game show ever. The contestants had to rat out their family members by telling terrible family secrets live on air.
"My mother was so mean she gave out moldy candy bars at Halloween. You know how long it takes a Snickers to mold? Like years. All us kids told her to stop but she said she was doing all the parents in the neighborhood a public service so that they will check the stuff strangers just gave their children to eat on Halloween. Of course, Bruno, that was bullshit because kids got sick and the cops came knocking and they raided the house finding next year's Halloween candy bars molding away in a closet in the basement. Ma got charged with 18 counts of candy neglect, willfully harming costumed children, a $75 dollar fine plus she had to replace all the kids' moldy candy bars with good ones. We had to move. A lot."
"I'm sorry, Danny. Though your story has some disturbing elements and your mother sounds like one crazy mean old lady, but Mary Alice's story of how her father robbed a bank to buy her a pony is better. Even though her father is now on the lam, she got her pony. That's heartwarming. So top prize goes to Mary Alice Crumholtz. Come on up and get your 100 dollars!"
100 bucks? For ratting out your family and telling the world how messed up your kin are? 100 bucks? And Bruno? The host's name is Bruno? Red flag. No good game show has ever been hosted by a Bruno. All this and more makes it the worst game show ever. Does too.
January 5, 2025
I have a friend who is a college professor philosopher. He is always challenging me to make him think. Today I sent him this: Sincerity is nice, but it must be intentioned and not faux just because the situation calls for a shoulder to cry on. So what is the tell for true sincerity? It's not tears. Anybody can fake those. It's not a wry smile. It's not tremendous concern. Or is it?
Some people do crossword puzzles. We do this.
January 7, 2025
INANE CONVERSATIONS - Part 1
-- Johnny, I want you to draw my picture.
-- What? I'm not an artist.
-- I know, but I read in a magazine that when your lover draws your picture, that is how they really see you. I want to know how you see me.
-- Megan, I see you just fine.
-- No, this is for me to see how you see me.
-- I don't know what you're talking about.
-- Ok Johnny, suppose I had a big nose. But you had never really said anything to me about my big nose, but when you draw my picture, you exaggerate my nose even bigger and so that would tell me that you are bothered by the size of my nose, without actually having to say it out loud.
-- But you don't have a big nose.
-- Grab a pencil and draw me.
-- No.
-- No?
-- This sounds like a setup to me, Megan.
-- A setup for what?
-- I dunno, maybe I draw a childish picture and you post it on Instagram and people laugh at me.
-- I would never do that!
-- Let's make a pact. I will never draw your picture or tell anyone that you have a big nose.
-- That's not a pact.
-- Megan, do you think you have a big nose? Is that what this is all about?
-- Oh god. Forget I ever brought it up, Johnny.
-- Done.
January 8, 2025
INANE CONVERSATIONS - Part 2
-- Johnny, I've thought about it some more and I definitely need you to draw my picture.
-- No way, Megan. We made a pact, remember?
-- No, we didn't.
-- I'm pretty sure we did. Why are you so crazed for this?
-- I need you to reveal how I look to you.
-- You look good to me. You look great. Always have. Stop this, ok?
-- I can't. I'm obsessed with how you view me.
-- You want the truth? Is that what you're after? Ok, that truth is, Megan, you have a big nose.
-- (Gasp) I knew it! I knew it!
January 10, 2025
ANOTHER ADVENTURE WITH MRS. KLEPPER, BIPOLAR TEACHER!
-- Ok class, the assignment was to build a snowperson in the image of a celebrity. You'll be graded on creativity, how much your snowperson looks like the celebrity you intended and will help identify those of you who are sandbagging, disinterested or just talentless hacks. More on that later. I'm excited. Shall we begin?
Ooh, Carly, I can immediately tell that's Beyoncé! Very good, dear!
And Brenda, what a tremendous replica of Amelia Earhart! Including the plane! Excellent!
Tad, good job with your Jimi Hendrix - only he played the guitar left handed, you might want to fix that!
And a, oh my, um, Joey, um, who is this supposed to be?
-- Ryan Seacrest greeting Bono like a long lost bro?
-- What?
-- Trump?
-- Ok, wait a minute. You do have the ridiculous fake hair, the blank I'm-a-complete-moron stare, but this snowman would have to be fatter and wearing a diaper. Still, the beady eyes, the look of a shameless whoring grifter, the brown hamburger and chicken grease stains on his mouth and neck, those are true to life. I suppose it could be Trump. But jeez... Who's next? Petey, is that to scale?
-- It is, Mrs. Klepper.
-- Well it's an awesome, faithful replication of every skyscraper and building in Manhattan, but damn it son, the assignment was to do a celebrity look alike.
-- Look closer at the Empire State Building.
-- Why, it's King Kong on the spire! Oh, well done, Petey!
Ok kids look, I'm gonna level with you. I've had it with some of you, but I needed proof to be able to expel you, so this assignment was to expose the talentless people who really shouldn't be in my class bringing me down. I'm talking about you, Joey. Get out. That snowman was an abomination. Get out now, talentless child.
-- But-
-- No buts, Joey. You're bringing me down, boy. Just moments ago I was euphoric at the other sculptures and then I get to you and see this..this thing. And it depresses me. Now I'm depressed. It's sad, Joey. You're making me sad. Please, just get out.
-- Well I'm not leaving.
-- Ah, whatever. I'm tired. Class dismissed.
Yet ANOTHER ADVENTURE WITH MRS. KLEPPER, BIPOLAR TEACHER!
January 11, 2025
If a wormhole opened up in your backyard, would you go through it? Or would you wait for someone from the other side to come to you? What if you both went through it at the same time from each end and met in the middle and crashed and everyone dies in the wormhole but you saved the Earth from alien invasion? Just a thought...
January 12, 2025
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Everything has consciousness
Does too
January 14, 2025
America, what the fuck? At best, your money worship has clouded your judgement, has it not? Elmo Musk and Diaper Donnie are definitive proof that money does not make the man, nor does it confer character. So in reality you now have a drug addled autistic dirtbag and a convicted felon running your country. And you're ok with that. Why?
January 15, 2025
Watched a movie last night that had an intriguing premise and started out sharply but somewhere in the 2nd act went spectacularly awry. Did I miss something? What the hell just happened? Did the station switch reels? Nothing started making sense as new characters and plot lines entered and exited with frightening speed - and none of it had anything to do with the original movie or its premise. This unmitigated mess was now clearly being directed by a completely different person, a hack. Hoping this clusterfuck would get better was now a pipe dream. Turning it off was the best decision I made last night. Say, how was your evening?
January 16, 2025
I went to the post office and a guy was at a package table with a stack of about 100 envelopes and several rolls of stamps. He was licking each stamp and applying it. He had done about 20 envelopes when he says outloud, "They should flavour these things. How hard would it be to make a stamp that tastes like cherry or banana when you lick it? I should write a letter."
It's exactly what I would have said, except I would have substituted chocolate for cherry and pizza for banana.
January 18, 2025
Was out of town yesterday and am going out of town again today. The nerve!
Ok, I'm back. The place was closed. Sign on their door basically saying they've gone fishing. That was a two hour drive for nothing. Sigh. So I'm back in town. A friend calls to meet for coffee. I pick the place. I get there. I don't believe it. They're closed! A sign on the door says they're on holiday until such and such a date. Twice in one morning! Again, one wonders, does this stuff only happen to me?
January 19, 2025
Well America, one more day until the deluded orange pansy officially ruins your country. Sad.
January 21, 2025
All winter everyone else is getting tons of snow and cold and we got bupkis. People experiencing a real winter tell us to stop whining about our above freezing temperatures, our green grass and bare ground, how some of our daffodils are coming out early, and how we should be grateful we live in such a mild climate because real winter is a real bitch. Ha, easy for them to say. They don't have to listen to the mournful sniffling coming from our criminally underused snowmobile who hasn't been out of the barn in over 15 months. 15 months! So, to the heartless bastards having the winter we wanted but haven't gotten...ah, never mind. Why defend our weather? The sun is out. The sky is blue. I'm gonna sit on the deck with a beer, soak up some rays, watch a little of the world go by, maybe even take a nap. Of course, I'd invite you over, but you're gonna be busy, more snow on the way, what with you shoveling and everything, hey! don't hate the messenger. That's rude.
January 22, 2025
I wrote a handwritten letter this morning. I was shocked at how bad my handwriting had become. I can't remember the last time I wrote in cursive. Was this even readable? It was sort of like the first time you hear your voice played back on a tape recorder - you're shocked, you don't believe it's you and you don't like it one little bit. Same thing.
I've had the same coaster on my desk for decades. It's not for decor; one simply has to put that cold beer or hot cup of coffee down on something, right? But there's no need to look under the coaster for anything, right? I mean why would anyone deliberately put something under a beer coaster and then forget about it until decades later when I spill a drink on it and have to pick it up to dry it off and - what's that? A piece of paper under the coaster. With a phone number. And it says, Call by June '97!!! (3 exclamation points). Whoops. I don't recognize the number, have no idea what it refers to, and I can't figure out why it's underneath a beer coaster. Like that caveman who first tried a Brussels sprout and said, Blech, I'm never doing that again!, I guess we'll never know why.
January 25, 2025
OMG, it's the 25th! Do you know where your resolutions are?
January 26, 2025
The clock was ticking down. You could see little beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead. She was mad at herself because she cut her bangs a week ago and that would have hidden her forehead but now her hair was pulled back and her giant schvitzing forehead was gaining moisture by the second due to the sweltering studio lights and the time pressure of the contest.
-- 45 seconds, Maise.
She tried to concentrate on the task at hand but kept wondering if her friends were taking pics of her sweaty forehead and posting them on social media. Then she realized that anybody could just turn on a TV and see her sweating from her enormous saturated forehead which means her shameful sweating has gone public, transcended the Internet and is now out in the wild for anyone to see. Oh god!
-- 30 seconds, Maise.
Focus! She needed to clear her mind, but all she could think of was whether she could will herself out of her body to fly from this nightmare situation. But still stuck in her body she fretted about flop sweat. What exactly was flop sweat? Was she flop sweating now? Panic overtook her being.
-- 15 seconds.
She was losing her chance to win. She knew it. She knew that there was not enough time left for her to figure anything out. All she wanted was to wipe the disgusting sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve and then-
-- 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Times up, Maise. What is your answer?
January 27, 2025
His mother threw his father out of the house for cheating and then divorced him. Her father, his grandfather, moved in to help with rent. Sometime later she threw her own father out of the house for stiffing her on the rent and impregnating the neighbors' 15 year old daughter. She asked her son to check the attic for any of grandpa's things. While up there, he found a chest full of sealed Mason jars jam packed with seeds.
-- Did grandpa leave anything?
-- Just a shitload of seeds. Are they what I think they are?
-- Yep. That's your grandfather's marijuana seed collection. He started smoking weed in the 70s and every time he came across great pot - Maui Wowee, Acapulco Gold, Thai stick - he would save the seeds - there was no sensimilla back then, every bag of pot had seeds in it.
-- You're telling me these are the seeds of the best pot he smoked back in the day?
-- Yep.
-- So this was before hydroponics and before cross breeding hybrids happened on a global scale?
-- I guess.
-- Mom, this is a gold mine! These are legacy seeds from some of the OG strains! And he labeled everything! There's even the price of a "lid" on each jar, whatever a "lid" is.
-- He just figured that he would grow a few plants here and there for his personal use. But Canada legalized pot and he never had to grow it. So the seeds stayed packed away.
-- Are you giving them back?
-- Heavens no. He's long forgotten about the seed chest. He just buys his pot. Besides...
-- Besides what?
-- He fucked a 15 year old! He doesn't need marijuana. He needs a good lawyer.
-- So we can keep it?
-- I guess. Why, what do you want to do with it?
-- Can you imagine how much Snoop Dogg or Seth Rogen - both of who have their own pot companies - would pay for this chest?
-- You think? Well how do you get in touch with Snoop Dogg?
-- Yeah, I don't know. Hey, maybe we start our own boutique pot company, OG Legacy Strains.
-- What would that involve?
-- We gotta grow some of these seeds to see how good the pot is.
-- Kenny, I never smoked. That was your grandfather's thing. I wouldn't know good stuff from bad.
-- Mom, I guarantee that what we have here, one way or another, will pay off the mortgage.
-- Are you serious?
-- I am.
-- After all this time, my father might finally be good for something. I guess miracles do happen.
thepastandthepresent