So long 2016 JOW #846

  2017 seems to be getting off to a nice enough start, but then so did 2016.  Remember that Mayan Calendar thing back in 2012? Most of my liberal friends are now convinced the Mayans were off by about four years.  And there were those who thought that the year 2016 went nuts and said – ‘okay, I am going to kill all the famous people you loved.’  There were people who stayed up past midnight just to watch 2016 die.  2016 was a distinctly odd year.  At times the year felt like The Onion was actually a real source of news.  (Note – The Onion is a comedy site that posts outrageous, and outrageously funny, fake stories.)

And as a tip of the hat to New Year’s resolutions I remember an old Calvin and Hobbs bit:

Calvin – “Resolutions?  Me?  Just what are you implying?  That I need to change?  Well, buddy, as far as I’m concerned I’m perfect the way I am.”

Let me start with a nice humorous story

A poor old couple was celebrating their sixtieth anniversary.  They had just moved back to their old neighborhood after they retired.  Holding hands they walked back to their old school house, reliving memories.  Walking home, still hand in hand they found a bag.  When Sally opened it she discovered it was full on money.

“Oh, Jerry, we really needed this!  Why this money will make all the difference to us!”

 Back home they counted the money – fifty thousand dollars.

“We have to turn it in,” Jerry said.

“Finders keepers,” Sally replied and hid the money away.

The next day two police officers were canvassing the neighborhood and knocked on Jerry and Sally’s door.  “Pardon me, we are looking for a bag of money that some drug dealers threw away when we were chasing them.  Did you find anything like that?” they asked Sally at the door.

“Oh, no, officer,” Sally said.

Jerry, who had just awakened from a nap came tottering in and contradicted her.  “We sure did.  Sally took it.  She was going to pay off our bills with it.”

Sally made a gesture toward her husband and said, “Don’t pay him any mind.  He is getting senile.”

The officers turned to Jerry.

“Can you tell the story from the beginning?”

“Well, Sally and I were walking home from school yesterday, hand in hand…”

The officers turned to one another nodded and said, “Thank you for your time sir.  We have to go to another house now.  Ma’am, you have a good day.”

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I am not very active on Facebook.  I tried to make some friends off line while applying the same principles.  I walk down the street and tell strangers what I ate, along with photos of the plates.  I tell people how I feel at the moment and what I will do later and with whom.  I give them pictures of my family, my dog, me in the garden, standing in front of landmarks, and pretty much every think I do.

I listen to their comments and give them a ‘thumbs up’ and tell them I like them.

And it seems to be working.  I have four people following me.  A police office, a private investigator, and two mental health professionals.

·         Prince Philip looks out of the window on Christmas Eve. “That’s some reindeer,” he says.

               The Queen replies: “Yes, 64 years is quite a while.”

·         Why is Bob Dylan’s sleigh so quiet? Because it has Nobel.

·         Why was the snowman looking through the carrots? He was picking his nose.

·         What did Adam say the day before Christmas? “It’s Christmas, Eve.”

As you may know I love words; several of you sent me some of the Washington Post’s neologism contest winners. 

Coffee – the person upon whom one coughs.

Flabbergasted – appalled at how much weight you have gained.

Abdicate – to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach again.

Willy-nilly – To be impotent.

Lymph – to walk with a lisp.

Flatulance – the emergency vehicle that picks up up after you are run over by a steamroller.

Balderdash – a rapidly receding hairline

Rectitude – the formal, dignifided bearing adopted my proctologists.

Pokeman – a Rstafarian proctologist.

Frisbeetarianism – the belief that when you die your soul flies up to the roof and gets stuck up there.

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The current administration decided to send a spy to Russia.  He was extensively and expensively trained until they were sure he could fit in as a local. He was immediately arrested upon arrival as an American spy. 

His training immediately kicked in: “How can you say I am an American?  I speak Russian like the Muscovite I am.  I am Russian.”

“You are not from Moscow.”

The agent pulls out a copy of Pushkin from this jacket and begins to read Pushkin.   Within minutes all the guards are weeping at the beautiful poetry.

“You see, only a true Russian can read Pushkin like that,” the spy said.

“You read beautifully, but you are not Russian.”

The spy calls on one of the guards to loan him his balalaika and plays Kalinka while dancing a Russian folk dance.

The guards clap and cheer at the performance.

“That was wonderful,” they admitted, but you are still not Russian.

The agent calls for vodka.  He drinks the entire bottle and smashes it on the ground with a Russian toast.  “See, just a typical Russian.”

“You are good, American, very good.  But you are not Russian.”

As he is led away he turns and asks plaintively, “How did you know I was not a Russian?  I was perfectly trained.”

“Well, for one thing we have no black people like you here in Russia.”