Man Martin's Blog, page 176

New Year's Resolutions

I know, I know, New Year's Resolutions - ha, ha - what a joke.  But seriously, do I think I'm perfect?  I know I'm better than you, but not that much, really, and I could still stand some improvement.  So here are my New Year's Resolutions for 2012 2013.

1. I will exercise at least thirty minutes every other day from now until I stop.

2. I will not drink any more.  I will also not drink any less.

3. I will spend more time playing computer solitaire, honing my already razor-sharp skills, in the unlikely event of a national emergency which requires someone who's really good at computer solitaire.

4. I will speak to the Lord each day in prayer, and not just to point out his mistakes either, because I'm sure he's doing the best he can.

5. I will come up with at least five resolutions.

There you have it, my plan to make me, and the world, a better place.

Almost makes you proud.

Other Chicken Heroics

A Wisconsin couple says clucks, not fire trucks, helped them escape a blaze at their home. Dennis Murawska, 59, said a pet chicken named Cluck Cluck woke his wife Susan Cotey, 52, with loud clucking from its cage in the basement two floors below about 6:15 a.m. Thursday. The couple's two cats also were running around the main floor. Murawska said he had been half awake but didn't know about the fire because the smoke alarms hadn't gone off. He realized something was wrong when his wife got up. "The chicken gets quite vocal when she gets excited," he said. - Carrie Antlfinger, Huffington Post

In Boca Raton, Florida, Penny, a pet Orphington Buff, saved her owner, Mike Smalls. from near fashion disaster.  Mike Smalls had already left the house when Penny began clucking madly.  "I looked down," Smalls said, "and guess what?  I was wearing sandals.  With socks.  I went right back inside and changed."  Smalls' wife Lydia explains, "Penny has a pretty good eye for style.  Considering she's a chicken."  Mike Smalls adds, "It could have been pretty bad if it hadn't been for Penny.  They were white socks."
A Barred Roc in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, saved her owner thousands of dollars in potential car repairs by timely clucking.  "Every time I pulled into my driveway, Beulah started raising the roof.  She'd do the same when I started the car up," her owned Leslie Dugan says.  "I thought she was just excited to see me, but then I read on the internet how Barred Rocs are especially sensitive to engine maintenance.  I checked, and what do you know, the 'check oil' light was on. I was way past due for an oil change!  I took it to Jiffy Lube and Beulah's been quiet ever since.  I just never notice those little lights on the dashboard.  Good thing Beulah does."
"I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for her," Rick Cobb, a resident of Ipswitch, Wisconsin explains, holding a framed photograph of Lucy, his pet Rhode Island Red.  During the recent heavy snowstorm Cobb was without lights or power and unable to leave the house.  "There wasn't any food in the refrigerator," Cobb says.  "I was staring starvation plum in the eye.  Good thing I had Lucy with me."  Cobb sighs and puts down the photograph.  "Kind of sad, I guess, not like those other stories, but, hey, it's what chickens are for, right?"
Lady Bird, a Black Minorca Hen, saved her entire family from suffocation.  "It was carbon monoxide," Barry Nordic, father of three and owner of Lady Bird explains.  "The detector didn't go off because the batteries were dead.  Actually, we have problems with carbon monoxide about three, four times a week in this place, I don't know what the problem is.  We should probably move."  Sensing the family was incapacitated, Lady Bird rushed into the house and dragged Mr. and Mrs. Nordic and their three children one at a time downstairs and with her beak and through the back door to her chicken house where they recovered.  "The dog didn't make it," Nordic notes sadly, referring to Dusty, the family's pet dachshund.  "Sometimes I think Lady Bird didn't really like Dusty, but I guess we'll never know."  He gives Lady Bird a suspicious glance.  "Still, she did pretty good overall, I guess."

Me and My High Horse

Pardon me while I get on my high horse and set a couple of things straight.

Astronomical does not mean extreme; it refers to the distances between stars.  Something can be astronomically expensive, it cannot be astronomically cheap.  It can be astronomically large, not astronomically small.  You might as well say microscopically huge.

Epicenter is not a hip synonym for center, although that's how people are using it lately.  It's weird, but what it means is the edge of the center.  If you were at the center of an earthquake, you'd have to be inside the earth; the epicenter is on the surface.  Deepstep, Georgia is the epicenter of nowhere.

Got it?  Now let's keep it straight, shall we?

Now someone bring me a ladder before I fall off this high horse and break my neck.

Game Night

So now draw a yellow card, and if it's a one-eyed jack, a resource card,
or Uncle Wiggly, you yell "Rosco!" and run around the house as fast as
you can while the rest of us add pieces to our Space-
ships until you get back, or you can draw from the blue pile, and...Thursday nights our daughter Catherine and son-in-law Drew come over for dinner and bring a game to play.  We do not play Scrabble.  I don't know if you're aware of it, but something has happened to games in the last decade or so.

When I was little (you can tell how old you are by how often you start sentences with "when I was little;" it's like counting rings on a tree.) there was Monopoly and Scrabble, which as far as I knew had been around forever, and then there were chess, checkers, and dominoes which had been around longer than that.  There were also games for little kids - Cooties, Candyland - and gimmicky games - Operation, Mouse Trap, and Battleship.  I refer to these last three as gimicky only because they had little pieces which, if lost, ruined the whole game.  I never in my life played a game of Operation where the funny bone wasn't already missing.  I specifically remember when Clue and Risk were introduced.  (They may have been a lot older, but I remember when they were introduced to me.)  Clue walked the perilous tightrope over the abyss of gimmicky-ness.  There were candlesticks and various other potential weapons, but these did not affect the game once they were lost.  Scrabble is the ultimate non-gimmicky game; people don't complain if you lose the Q, in fact, they prefer it.

However, now games have gone through some sort of Cambrian explosion, and there are about a zillion different species and sub-species.  Catherine and Drew have an entire game room dedicated to housing their collection.  When I was little - there I go again.  Judging by the "I was littles," I must be about fifty-one.  When I was little, a game room meant a place in the basement with a ping-pong table or, if you were really swanky, a pool table.  But no longer.  Catherine and Drew's game room is just what the name implies: a room for games.

Some of these have recognizable ancestors in Risk and Monopoly: Catan, for example, is clearly a hybrid, as is Ticket to Ride.  Some, however...   I earlier defined a game as gimmicky by the number of losable pieces, well, some of these games are on steroids in that department.  One game, for example, is designed entirely around different kinds of dice.  There are dice with twelve sides, dice with colors, dice with pictures.  There was a little red die inside a clear plastic die.  (Die, in case you didn't know, is the accepted singular of dice, a very ancient form of game as witnessed by Caesar's remark, "The die is cast."  If he'd said this around Catherine and Drew, they'd have wanted to know whether he meant the twelve-sided die, the die with colors, the die with pictures, or the little red plastic die inside the big clear one.)

Some of these games are so complicated, I think the primary pleasure is just getting to explain the rules.  When I was little - there I go again, I must be at least fifty-three - we used to get in big family arguments over Monopoly and Scrabble, but this doesn't happen with Drew and Catherine's games, maybe because after it's over, you're not entirely sure whether you won or lost.

So anyway, once a week the kids come over, and we sit around one of Nancy's fabulous meals, and then we sit around a game board.  And, when you get down to it, that's the essential aspect of any game: sitting in a circle with the people you love.

Everything else is a gimmick.

About Your Proposal

Sandy McCulloch, a Corvallis, Oregon 82-year-old wears a paper sign around his neck that reads, “WANTED: A WIFE.” His low-tech message describes that he’s searching for a companion over the age of 60 who loves books, has a sense of humor, and lives in Corvallis. - Yahoo News


Dear Mr. McCulloch - or may I call you Sandy? - I saw you wearing your sign the other day and something happened, it was like electricity running through me, or perhaps my hearing aid malfunctioning again.  I said to myself, "Edna, sweet talkers like him don't come along every day, and if he talks as sweet as he writes signs, whoa Nellie!"

I guess I've always been a sucker for a good-looking man, especially if he's wearing a sign around his neck asking me to do something.  For instance, you know those people that ride around in cars saying ask me about Vitamite or Jesus, or whatever?  Well, I always ask them.  Sometimes they look puzzled, but they usually answer, too.  I'm just that way.  Once I saw a man wearing a shirt that said, "Follow me to Cloud Canyon."  Well, I followed him, but he didn't go to Cloud Canyon, just to a townhouse in Dunwoody.  I waited outside on the sidewalk until the police came for me.  I've got forty ex-bums working around the house doing various odd-jobs because they were wearing signs saying, "Will work for food."  I pay them in peanut butter sandwiches.


So you probably want to know a little bit about me.  I have a little bit of a weight problem because I keep eating pecan pie.  I actually hate pecans, but every day I walk by a restaurant that says, "Try our pecan pie."  I try it every day, but it never gets any better.  I lost my husband a few years ago.  He went in the WalMart to get some new boxer shorts and never came out.  When we went back and looked at the security tape, there was a man who looked a lot like him sneaking out the back way.  My sign is Libra (I already know what your sign is, ha-ha)  and I am very spiritual.  Last week I saw a sign about L Ron Hubbard and became a Scientologist.  Before that I was a Mormon.  Before that Jehovah's WItness.  I nearly became a Shiite for a little bit, but it turned out I'd misread the sign.  It was just some graffiti.

I have to admit I've been in trouble with the law a couple of times.  Once I was in a restaurant, and I saw a little room that said "Men."  There weren't any men in there, though, except one, and he kept his back to me.  Then he left, and gave me kind of a mean look.  A little later a policeman arrived, but I don't think that's what the sign meant.  I went back and told the restaurant owner he needed to change it.

Anyway, in response to your proposal, my answer is yes, yes, yes!   I can hear wedding bells chiming which means my hearing aid is definitely malfunctioning, so I'll sign off here.

Edna Crumb

Another Curse of My Existence

"On Friday, the all-male Iowa Supreme Court ruled that employers can give employees their walking papers if they believe there is an irresistible attraction" -
ABC News

"Man, could you step into my office for a few moments."
"Yes, what is it?"
"It's about your continued employment here."
"What about it?"
"You're not going to make this any easier, are you?  OK, I'll just come out with it.  We're giving you your walking papers."
"What?"
"Now don't lose your cool."
"But I've been named employee of the month thirteen months in a row.  I've got commendations for tidiest work space."
"It's not because of your work.  Your work is fine.  The problem is... you're just too darned attractive."
"What?"
"That's right.  Frankly, you're irresistible.  That's why we can't keep you here anymore."
"You can't do this to me."
"Please don't look at me with those big green eyes of yours, this is hard enough.  In fact, here, do you mind putting this on?"
"What is it?"
"It's a Groucho mask.  That why I can fire you without being distracted by your dazzling good looks."
"Oh, brother."  (Puts on mask.)
"The fact is, Man, your good looks are threatening the whole company.  Customers come in the lobby and won't leave, hoping to catch a sight of you.  Grown men are questioning their sexuality because they find you so irresistibly attractive.  Your presence here is ruining marriages.  Sally..."
"Sally isn't married."
"But one day she might be, and she's afraid when she is, all she'll be able to think about is you.  Her marriage will be ruined."
"I can't believe this is happening.  Fired because I'm so good looking.  Curse you, DNA!"  (Shakes fist at ceiling.)
"What will you do, Man?"
"I'll have to find a job, somewhere no one will ever have to look upon my face, somewhere the world will be safe from my devastating good looks."
"Have you considered blogging?"

Get Ready

So on this day 2012 years ago, Jesus was born, right?  Wrong.  Jesus couldn't have been born any later than 4 BC because the Bible said it was during the reign of Herod the Great, and it couldn't have been winter because shepherds were out minding the flock, and even a shepherd isn't fool enough to do that in December.  But there were three wise men, right?  Well, possibly.  The Bible just says wise men, it doesn't specify the number.  People think it's three because there are three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh - but there might have been four wise men or forty.  There might have been two wise men, and if there were, I bet one of them felt like a chump for bringing myrrh when the other one brought gold and frankincense.

Anyway.  My point in mentioning all this is to point out Christmas isn't what we think it is, and it never was.

The Jews had been waiting for Christmas for about three thousand years.  Back when they were in Egypt, there were these prophets saying, "A savior is coming, a savior is coming!"  And they'd say, "Is it Moses?"  "No, Moses is pretty good, but this guy is going to be even better."

And then they were fighting the Philistines, a prophet would pop up and say, "A savior is coming, a savior is coming!"  "Is it David?"  "No flies on David, but this guy is even better!  Just wait!"  And then the Babylonian Captivity and "A savior is coming!"  "Is it Daniel?"  "Daniel's all well and good, but this guy - watch out!"  The Romans.  "A savior is coming!"  "John the Baptist?"  "Hey, buddy, I'm not even shoe level with the savior, he's the real deal!"

Naturally, with all this build-up, everyone was expecting a lot more hooplah.  They figured the sky would open up and there'd be an army with angels riding fiery horses or elephants or elephant angels and trumpets blaring and drums beating and smoke and lightning and stuff like that there.  Instead what did they get?  A Jewish girl and her husband, delivering the baby in transit, not even able to find a decent place to stay for the night.  Nativity scenes always show the manger as somehow perfectly crib-size, like whoever built mangers had in the back of his mind it might need to double as a baby bed.  As far as I can make out, a manger is a sort of a trough, and I never saw a trough that was the right size for a baby unless it was maybe Abraham Lincoln.  A manger is a place you don't put a kid unless there's absolutely nowhere else to put him, and you don't want him rolling around on the straw where the poop is.

So instead of a combination of war-hero and matinee idol, this was the savior, which I guess makes sense.  There's nothing much on earth would impress God, and he wouldn't see any need for pyrotechnics just to impress us.  If God incarnate walks the earth, he doesn't need to go around carrying a sparkler.

Lots of people are waiting for Jesus to come back, and go around saying, "Jesus is coming!  Jesus is coming!"  This time, they claim, it won't be like the last time, he's be coming in "great glory," which sort of makes you think they were disappointed by the first time or maybe they figure they'd have missed it if there hadn't been at least one angel on an elephant or an earthquake at the very least.  But I'm not so sure.  I'm not saying Jesus is coming, but if he is, judging from past experience, it won't be what we expect.  God's idea of glory and ours don't match up very well.  I figure if Jesus comes back, he'll be born in a bus station.  His parents will be migrant workers.  They'll put him in an orange crate.

The next time won't be what we expect.  Christmas isn't what we think it is and never was.

Get ready.

Another Reason I Never Made It as a Cartoonist

My Mother's Favorite Christmas Joke

For no particular reason, here's my mother's favorite Christmas joke.

Do you know why we have an angel on top of the tree?

Well, once upon a time, Santa got out of bed, and his lumbago was hurting him worse than ever, and he walked downstairs where his traditional breakfast of eggnog and cookies was waiting.  He took one sip of eggnog, and spat it out.

"Ugh, what's wrong with this eggnog?"

"It's soy milk eggnog.  Unsweetened.  The doctor said its better for your cholesterol."

Santa disconsolately took a bite of cookie and spat it out as well.  "Gahh, and the cookies?"

"Gluten free, no sugar, no eggs, no milk, no butter."

Grumbling and hungry Santa left the house.  The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, the temperature was a balmy seventy-three degrees.  It was December at the North Pole.  "&#@!! Global Warming," Santa said angrily.  (Being half-elf, he could actually pronounce &#@!!.)

In the workshop, he found none of the elves at their benches.  "What's going on?" he demanded of his head elf.  "Christmas Eve is tomorrow night!"

"We're on strike," the head elf said.  "Out of solidarity to our brother elves in China making all those iPods."

Feeling his blood pressure rise dangerously, Santa decided to get out of there before he started kicking some serious elf booty, but when he went to the reindeer pen, the news wasn't any better.

"Looks like Dasher won't be pulling the sleigh this year," the keeper said.  "Someone gave him Reindeer AIDS.  We're pretty sure it was Dancer."

Santa said a string of ampersands, pound signs, asterisks, and exclamation marks.

"Oh, yeah, and by the way, Vixen's pregnant.  Again."

Santa went back inside and Mrs. Claus said, "You need to wash up.  It's almost time for lunch."

"No more of those cookies," Santa said.  "I'd rather eat seaweed and mineral water."

"Well, good.  Because that's just what we're having."

Just then, there was a knock at the door.  Santa opened it, and standing there was a beautiful angel with a long flowing gown, great graceful wings, and a halo.  In her hand she held a Christmas tree.

She asked Santa, "Where do you want me to stick this?"

And that's why we have an angel on top of the tree.

Christmas Flicks Not to Miss

Little by little Kringle gains Susan's confidence,
leading her into his trap Miracle on 34th Street: Kris Kringle (Edmund Gwenn) is not who he seems to be, but who is he, and what evil cat-and-mouse game is he playing with Susan (Natalie Wood) and why is he so interested in little girls in the first place?  As Susan tries desperately to hold onto her fragile grasp of reality, she is drawn deeper, ever deeper in Kris' sinister web of lies and fantasy.  With a nail-biting courtroom scene and plenty of shapely calf flashed by co-stars Maureen O'Hara and John Payne, this is a film that will leave you guessing to the very end.  With Don Knotts as the voice of the dog.


He always planned to get away
but never did - and now it's too late! It's a Wonderful Life.  Don't let the title fool you.  Life sucks, a fact which George Bailey (Jimmy Stuart) knows all too well.  Defrauded of a very tidy sum by the town's most powerful man and facing prison time, will George snitch on his uncle to save his own skin?  After a lifetime of giving, giving, giving, playing the sucker for every slicker that comes down the pike, something inside George finally snaps.  In a bar he says he wishes he'd never been born, little suspecting he's overheard by a diabolical entity with the power to make that wish come true, and from there he descends in a maelstrom so horrible, he'll need every bit of his wits to escape.  Which just goes to show, never say things can't get any worse, because they can!  With a supporting cast including Donna Reed, who isn't shy about showing a little bit of skin, if you know what I mean, by the creators of the classic political thriller, Mr Smith Goes to Washington.  With Don Knotts as the voice of Maureen O'Hara.

What sort of sicko would dress a dog as a reindeer
and hang him from the ceiling? How the Grinch Stole Christmas.   Oh, silent night - the perfect setting for the perfect crime!  The Grinch has it all planned, a daring robbery that will leave all Whoville stunned the next morning.  Will he even leave behind the roast beast?  He will not.  The bone-chilling encounter between the Grinch and Emmy Lou Who will have you on the edge of your seat.  Throughout much of the film, the Grinch is completely naked, except for a Santa suit which has no pants, allowing the readers to feast their eyes on plenty of shapely green thigh.  With Boris Karloff as the voice of Don Knotts.