Mrs. Bissage Keeps a Clean House

Here we find Mrs. Bissage in the throes of appreciation; happy as a bearded clam she has me to call her very own.
And, really, who can blame her?

This cartoon, by the great Jean-Jacques Sempé, is as insightful (and inciteful) as it is delightful.

He has a wikipedia entry. LINK.

P.S. Inciteful is not yet a real word. Use it at your peril!

Walter Cronkite has Died

There will always be a loving spot in my heart for Walter Cronkite. I was only a little kid at the time, but I’ll never forget lying on my belly in my pajamas in front of the TV set enthralled by his deep and sonorous voice. He was like the voice of God.

And I’ll never forget how impressed I was hearing him narrate the John Wanamaker Christmas Light Show or those wonderful highlight reels produced by NFL Films.

Rest in Peace, Uncle Walter.

Leave No Man Behind

This morning I was reminded of some solid life-advice I was given many years ago. You see, I used to work as a college intern at a big corporation. I was very wet behind the ears, as they say, and I pretty much stank at everything they ever assigned me.

On my last day, this older guy took me aside. He used to be an Army Ranger, and he could be crude at times, but he had a big heart and he sort of watched out for me, if you know what I mean. He said, “Bissage, no matter how bad things might get for you out there in the real world, always make sure to keep your O-ring squeaky clean.”

What he said made perfect sense to me (maybe you had to be there) and I’ve always done my level best to do precisely that. Which is why, this morning, I had a problem.

You see, I was sitting on the hopper and I was doing the paper work. There was more of the enemy than usual and there were some unanticipated pockets of resistance. I had to send in reinforcements. Several flushes and many fistfuls of music roll later, I opened up wide for the final mopping up operation when it happened; my bear trap snapped shut and it clamped down on a wad of toilet paper. After the follow-through, not all of it made it into the water.

Well, I couldn’t just leave it stuck in there! I went into that hairy jungle thicket with thumb and forefinger and extracted that asset. And what a success it was! Visual inspection revealed that there was not even so much as a speck of brown, although my fingers smelled slightly like poop, afterwards.

And I sat there reflecting upon those words of wisdom from so many years ago.

Fucking A.

One of Those Bug People

It is three weeks ago and I am sitting in the doctor’s waiting room. In walks this sales rep and she’s totally great-looking. She is thirty-two years old, slender, with a nice rack and long brunette hair. Short skirt and high heels. She looks like Linda Fiorentino in her prime.

She says to the receptionist, “I’m here to stock your Viagra®.”

(I am not making this up.)

The receptionist tells her to wait a few minutes so she sits down a few chairs away from me. All of a sudden, the sales rep freaks out. She leaps up and she dashes across the room and she starts stomping on a bug.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! She is a woman possessed.

Finally convinced that it is completely dead, she returns to her seat without throwing whatever it was into the waste basket, which is a mere four feet away.

So I get up to throw it in the trash. After all, I’m not going to just leave it there on my doctor’s waiting room carpet. Afterwards, I return to my seat and I feel the urge to address the situation.

“It was a centipede. It was searching for water.”

The sales rep senses danger. She gives me a long hard look. She says, “You’re not one of those BUG PEOPLE, are you?" It wasn't exactly a question.

I say, “If you are asking me whether I’m a giant cockroach from outer space like in ‘Men in Black’ then the answer is no.”

She gives me a look of complete and total lack of comprehension. No matter. She’s still totally gorgeous.

At that very, exact instant, the receptionist tells the sales rep that she can go back to stock the shelves.

So what do I do? I just sit there and wait for my turn to see the doctor. Yes, that’s what I do. And at the same time, I also spend the next ten minutes fantasizing about having an extremely large and effective sex organ and presenting it to that sales rep doggie style, treating her to a veritable cavalcade of multiple orgasms, right there on the waiting room floor.

And I am wearing a giant centipede costume.

He would have wanted it that way.

This is Only a Test

Why can't I cut and paste from MSWord?

Let's try it yet again: What a tangled web we weave.

Hey, it worked!

I wonder why . . .

Aha!

You have to be in "Edit Html."

If you are in "Compose" mode then you can't cut and paste from MSWord.

Hey, I actually figured something out.

ANOTHER TRIUMPH!!!!1!!!!!!!!