This is getting ridiculous. Classified documents have now been found in the home of former VP and current milquetoast Mike Pence. I’m shocked, especially after this …
Question: Did you take any classified documents with you from the white house? Pence: I did not. pic.twitter.com/hbErVijbXt
I wonder exactly where they were discovered. Reports say in an unprotected area, so certainly not in Mother’s knickers. I find it interesting to see how Fox News is presenting visuals about the story of the Pence classified docs.
Wow, Pence has not aged well. Anyway, we all know what’s coming next – another Special Counsel named to investigate. I have a final question. How many Special Counsels being named does it take before they are no longer considered special?
Because of a family emergency this past week, I haven’t blogged for days. Now don’t go hoping for more family emergencies for me to keep me from blogging this week. During this family emergency, I’ve had a lot of time to think. It’s kind of a new experience for me. I’m not sure I like it so much.
Anyway, as I dealt with the family emergency, I tried to keep a focus on self-care. I planned to swim today as a way to care for myself. It didn’t happen, but that got me thinking about getting a tattoo. My two best buddies have tattoos, but I have none. Many years ago, when I was participating in triathlons, I considered getting a triathlon tattoo like this one.
I never did. Some of you may say, “Well, it’s never too late.” Unfortunately, there is one huge reason I can’t.
It was probably finding the dead body on the beach that really made Monday weird for me, but I’ll get to that later. Monday was a federal holiday in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Interestingly, it was also a state holiday in Alabama and Mississippi to “honor” the traitor and Confederate General Robert E. Lee. They call it King-Lee Day in those states. It’s so nice that they link MLK with slavery.
Anyway, I decided that business would be lighter than a normal Monday, so I took most of the day off to address some clinical trial study business in Chicago. My first appointment was for, uh, well, I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t remember. Oddly enough, I went anyway. They seemed to know me when we spoke on the phone and confirmed the appointment. However, when I got there, it sure didn’t look familiar to me other than it was on Chicago’s beautiful Michigan Avenue. But still I continued unknowingly on to the appointment in a small, nondescript, sixth floor office. It wasn’t until I was sitting in an exam room that I realized what the study was for. I was grateful that it wasn’t for an experimental lobotomy. I read the release form and remembered I was there for an Alzheimer’s study.
I’m guessing I don’t have to point out the irony. I also wonder if I really qualify. You’ve read this blog. Can you really say that I don’t have a thinking problem?
In 3 months, I’ll know if they have identified certain tau proteins in my blood that may or may not indicate that I have a propensity toward Alzheimer’s. Or something like that, I forget.
I had some time before my next appointment, so I thought a winter walk on the beach would be a good idea. Boy, was I wrong. Sure, I enjoyed the walk – until I stumbled upon this dead body.
I read some science news that’s not exactly recent, but it is new to me, and now astrology finally makes sense to me. I’m a Sagittarius, not that any of you care. Where were all my birthday cards and gifts last month? Didn’t you take the hint when I wasted a whole blog post on what size clothes I wear? Maybe wasted is too strong a word considering the normal drivel I foist upon you through this blog.
Anyway, I recently learned of Sagittarius B2 which is a colossal molecular cloud located 390 light years from the center of the Milky Way. You can read all about it in this article. As I read through the article, I can see why I am a Sagittarius. I am so similar to Sagittarius B2 that it’s scary. This list is no coincidence.
Why wasn’t this article published sooner than today, the 10th of January?
Look, it’s great to provide this info, but can’t we get this valuable advice sooner than after the time when most people have already taken down their trees and have decided how to responsibly dispose of them in an environmentally-friendly (and possibly delicious) way? Asking for a friend.
As I gave myself a haircut before I went on a very short business trip this week, I found myself incredibly grateful that I don’t have much hair to cut. Over the holidays, I was at a party listening to hirsute-headed friends talking about paying $90 and $125 to have their magnificent locks of hair cut. What could possibly be included with a $125 “haircut?” Maybe where they burn the hair off rather than cutting?
Well, whatever it includes, I’m sure it doesn’t include me. I’m feeling incredibly grateful that I can cut the remaining hair I have myself, because if I had a full head of hair, I would not be able to afford one of them $125 haircuts.
After the 12th vote, it’s becoming apparent that Kevin McCarthy will eventually become Speaker of the House. It may take one more vote. It may take twenty more votes. I have no idea, but I’m pretty confident that Republicans will eventually legitimately control the US House and the Speaker’s position, just like they tried to do violently and illegitimately two years ago. In the meantime, Republicans have occupied my mind. They have put a song in my head, and it controls my thoughts every time I see them roll out McCarthy to nominate him for another vote. This one …
It’s a lesser-known REM song, and the lyrics are quite political. But it’s not the lyrics or melody that the Republicans have stuck in my head. It’s the title. After each vote, I imagine Kevin McCarthy being dragged out of the House dead and then buried. When the new round of nominations start, I envision Republicans exhuming McCarthy and propping him up in the House for yet another vote.
It’s not my favorite REM song, probably because I don’t understand all the political lyrics. But I do understand the prescient lyrics at the end of the song that may be a glimpse into life in a Republican-controlled House the next two years.
“Exhuming McCarthy (Meet me at the book burning) Exhuming McCarthy (Meet me at the book burning)”
I had heard this newish 2022 song from Mt. Joy before, and my reaction was always, “Meh.” It’s fine, but a little loose and messy for my taste. Now if it was a pie, then that would be a different story. I do like Mt. Joy music, and I have enjoyed seeing them perform live in concert. My fave Mt. Joy song, especially live, is “Astrovan.”
But this recent Mt. Joy song never really caught my attention until I watched the video at the urging of a local radio DJ. I call this post “The Office Edition.” Not because the video takes place in an office, but because the video features a former employee of The Office.
Yep, the music video stars Creed Bratton who played Creed Bratton on the US television series The Office. That’s also the same Creed Bratton who was a member of 60’s rock band the Grass Roots. I love how Mt. Joy pays homage to a former rocker by featuring him in their video. And is Creed announcing a return to his musical (Grass) roots at the end of the video?
For all you youngsters who have never heard of the Grass Roots, here’s a great video with, of all people, Jimmy Durante introducing the Grass Roots. Try and spot Creed Bratton as the Grass Roots lip-sync through my favorite hit of theirs.
I’ve read that Trump is considering a third party presidential run in 2024 if Republicans refuse to nominate him. He is drawing comparisons to Teddy Roosevelt and his Bull Moose Party back in 1912. I think that is a perfect analogy for Trump’s campaign today, including the name with just a small modification. Rather than the Bull Moose Party, Trump should more accurately call it the Bull Shit Party.
I have watched gas prices continue to drop to under $3 per gallon, and conservatives are very quiet now concerning how high gas prices are President Joe Biden’s fault. If they were smart (Spoiler Alert: They’re not), they would note that gas prices have been dropping since Trump entered the 2024 presidential race. There must be a correlation.
I saw Trump on his Truth Social network suggesting that the cold weather and winter storm we had a week ago proves that there is no climate change and global warming. So, if climate change and global warming have been resolved, did Joe Biden fix them?
I hate the thought of the Republican clown show running the House of Representatives in 2023. However, considering the Republicans controlled the House, Senate, and White House from 2021 through 2022 and accomplished absolutely nothing except another tax cut for the rich, I think the next 2 years may be unproductive but impossible not to watch in a car crash sort of way. Buckle up. I am sure House hearings on the search for Hillary Clinton’s emails on Hunter Biden’s laptop that may be located in Benghazi will start soon.
I’m considering a new blog feature of plays that are shorter than one-act plays. I think they’ll be a great fit for actors with memory challenges or audiences with short attention spans. See what you think.
A Friend Named Gwen
Curtain opens as a daughter approaches her father to ask a favor.
Daughter: Dad, can I have Gwen over?
Father (sarcastically): Stefani?
Daughter: No Doubt!
Curtain closes to hearty laughs and thunderous applause. By the way, my 14-year-old daughter who is having a friend named Gwen come over didn’t understand this. Choose your actors and audience carefully when presenting “A Friend Named Gwen.”
I thought our house looked nicely decorated in yesterday’s blog post, but I forgot to mention something, so you get a Thirteenth Day of Blogging. That our house is decorated nicely is kind of a shocker since I helped decorate this year. Yes, I actually layed some lights on foliage to make that happen, all under the strict supervision of the boss, of course.
When I decorate, I have visions of this being the result.
That is an actual decorated tree in our neighborhood. They set the bar high, but when I decorate, my expectation is that will be the result.
However, my decorating reality usually yields a tree looking like this just a few houses down from that super-tree.
Despite not feeling top notch, I caffeinated up and went to the family’s Christmas Eve gathering. While there, I was accused of having an STD (I don’t) by my own immediate family, had my hairline (or lack thereof) analyzed and assailed, and was goaded by my 4 year old great nephew into attempting (successfully) a somersault. So, it was a typical Christmas Eve. At least I didn’t get a black eye as in year’s past.
I did take one step closer to making my mini story “Peach Life” into an animated film. Another great nephew who studies filmmaking (but not animation) at Columbia College in Chicago told me my concept was very doable. And my middle daughter seemed to think she could do it using Tik Tok. I guess I’m adapting my “Peach Life” story into a screenplay next.
And I came up with a really funny joke on Christmas Eve that I wanted to share with you today, but I can’t recall any details of it whatsoever. You’ll have to settle for Merry Christmas from the Flanigan house.
A lot has been happening to me personally over these Twelve Days of Blogging, so I thought I’d recap the highlights for you including more Christmas miracles and a Hanukkah miracle.
Let’s start with another Christmas miracle. The television remote control was gone. I was the likely culprit having last used it. Did I dodder off in my typical addled state and lay the missing remote in an unfindable place? The full house search revealed nothing. It was missing for two whole days. We spent hours upon hours teaching ourselves how to use the funny buttons on the bottom of the TV to change channels, volume, source, etc. The remote was gone. Grieving had begun. I began sitting shiva in front of the television which I usually do anyway.
And then, my youngest daughter found it under the couch. Just like that. She looked, and there it was. Yes, we had looked under the couches before. I had found a dog ball under one of the couches. Our youngest dog was so happy to see it again that he promptly ate half of it before we could take it away from him. Merry Christmas.
There will be some who say that our ball-eating dog’s tail whisked it off the coffee table and onto the floor under the couch. And that we did a lousy job in looking for it. But I have another theory.
To make up for the cessation of regularly-scheduled Mite Be Funny cartoons every Sunday, here’s an extra long, 5-panel cartoon with a Christmas message from the mites on this Tenth Day of Blogging.
If you recall one year ago, I published a short story sequel to the beloved movie It’s a Wonderful Life called “Every Time a Bell Rings.” Unfortunately, my short story is quite irreverent and will never be as revered as the movie that spawned it. However, I was thrilled to see on Amazon that it had ratings.
It doesn’t bother me that one of the ratings is bad. In fact, I’m not surprised at the 1 star rating. If you believe that irreverence = bad writing, then you won’t like the story. If you also believe bad writing = bad writing, then you may not like the story. Anyway, it follows Clarence the angel as he gets called on the carpet for his actions during the movie. I’m working on another sequel, and I had hoped to have it ready by Christmas. I’ve enlisted some helpers to work on it to get it ready in time.
I warned you that if I got busy, I may recycle an old post. This one is a favorite that always seems to get viewing traffic around Christmas whether I repost it or not. Well, it’s been three years since the last time I foisted this upon readers, so it is high time I try it again. I have edited and punched-up the original 2015 post just a bit. Is this truly a beloved Christmas post, or am I just trying to sneak an easy post through on this 8th Day of Blogging? I think we know the answer. Regardless, here it is …
While waiting in line at a local sweet shop, I could not take my eyes off their chocolate nativity for sale while store security did not dare take their eyes off me for obvious reasons.
Chocolate Nativity for sale
The very first question that sprang to my mind was, “Who gets to eat Baby Jesus?” I’ll address that later, but that was just the tip of the question iceberg for me. My mind was quickly spinning with so many questions as I checked-out that I tried to pay for my purchase with my dry cleaning ticket. Consider these quandaries that dizzied my consciousness …
Now that’s a good question to address on this 7th Day of Blogging, but an easier one to answer would be what I don’t want. Allow me to take you back many years to the glory days of the National Lampoon Radio Hour with Bill Murray and Gilda Radner before they were famous.
I definitely do not want Santa’s trapdoor. What I would like for Christmas is if folks who made me laugh like Gilda Radner, John Belushi, John Candy, Chris Farley, and Phil Hartman were still around to do so. Hey, maybe this Motivational Santa could grant my Christmas wish.
Here’s something else I definitely do NOT want for Christmas offered by someone more pathetic than Motivational Santa Matt Foley living in a van down by the river.
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 