Tag Archives: emotions

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Google One Liners

I Googled “Missing Mediaeval servant”….
…. It came back, “Page not found.”

My date said, “I’m looking for someone who is kind and intelligent”….
….Oops, I thought you said kinda intelligent.

Proud to announce that my goal of becoming a criminal lawyer is half complete….
….Just working on the lawyer part now.

The doctor told me that I have hypochondria….
….I replied, “That too?”

The wife reached another culinary milestone today….
….by setting off the neighbors’ smoke alarm.

I hate people who take drugs….
….For example, airport security.

Taco Bell is selling fries….
….Burger King is selling tacos….
….KFC is putting Cheetos on chicken sandwiches….
….I knew we shouldn’t legalize marijuana.

Both the Bible and the Quran tell us to love one another….
….The Kama Sutra is a little more specific.

On the Internet, you can be anything you want….
….It’s strange that so many people choose to be stupid.

Unlike the brain….
….the stomach alerts you when it’s empty.

My therapist says I have trouble expressing emotion….
….I can’t say I’m surprised.

A lot of people were confused at the opening….
….of my ribbon repair company.

Trump is nothing like Hitler….
….No way could he write a book.

I don’t have arthritis….
….I have early-onset rigor mortis.

The four seasons are all different….
….Summer warmer than others.

The difference between coffee and your opinion….
….I asked for coffee.

I tried cooking with wine last night….
….After five glasses I forgot why I was in the kitchen.

There are two kinds of people in the world….
….I try to avoid them.

In the ‘60s, people took acid to make the world weird….
….Today the world is weird, and people take Prozac to make it normal.

I may not be much to look at, but I fuck like….
….the government.

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Son Of: Humorous Answer To A Seriously Stupid Question

 

Ohh….  Did the big, bad firearm scareums??  Here’s a bit of facts and truth to calm you down.

WHY DO GUN NUTS INSIST THAT THE AR15 IS SEMI-AUTOMATIC, WHEN IT IS CLEARLY FULLY AUTOMATIC, WITH A HIGH CALIBER MAGAZINE?

It is clear that the Federal Government has passed legislation, banning the production, sale, and possession of fully automatic firearms, except for specially licensed groups, such as police or Armed Services.

It is clear on the manufacturer’s website where they state that, as a good, corporate citizen, not to mention avoiding being prosecuted for a Federal crime, the AR15 is available only as semi-automatic.

It is clear that the actuator switch on the side of the receiver does not have an indication for fully automatic firing, unlike its big brother, military model.

The “AR,” of AR15 does not stand for Assault Rifle!  The manufacturer is Armalite, and it is an Armalite Rifle.

It is clear, when you reached the point of over-emotionally ranting about the high caliber magazine, that you really don’t know what you’re talking about.  “CALIBER” refers to the diameter of the bullets fired, not the magazine.  The Army has changed from ammunition that kills the enemy, to stuff that just annoys them, and ties up four support staff, for every wounded soldier.  The 5.56 mm slugs that the AR15 fires equal .223 Caliber – barely barn-rat plinking size.

If you meant a HIGH CAPACITY magazine, I suppose that 20 rounds might seem like a lot to a rube whose chickens only lay a dozen eggs at a time, but the Army has 30, and 50-round banana-clips, and 100-round drum-mags.  Perhaps you could make it clear why, despite all of the above data, you insist on claiming that it is fully automatic.

It is clear that Chicken Little wants the rest of us to help him run around, shouting, “The sky is falling!  The sky is falling!” but the vast majority of us are too busy laughing at idiots like him and Flat Earthers, to be bothered.

***

Personally, I think that most AR15s are purchased as a penis-substitute, by insecure men, but if you’re going to campaign against them, the least you could do is some research, to get your arguments correct – or just be honest.  That would be novel.  🙄

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’23 A To Z Challenge – F

An author who had moved to southwest Texas was complaining about

FIRE ANTS

and wanted to know how to get rid of them.  The son kindly offered the advice that, napalm is usually sufficient, but to be really sure, sometimes thermonuclear is required.

While the arc of my life has not been a bright, brilliant, meteoric one, still, I am happy and satisfied with it.  I have run a good race.  I would very much like to keep running a little longer, although nowadays it’s more like just a fast shuffle.

As I approach 80, I am not morose about the inevitability that the end is approaching.  It’s just that I don’t get the feeling that “it’s over.”  There are still many things that I wish to do and see and experience.  I don’t want the ride to be finished.

It’s a feeling that many of us get, and it’s not just about our mortality.  I recently ran into a frilly little word which describes the emotion.

FINIFUGAL

Finifugal /fan· ee ·fyoo ·gal/ adj. Definition: The word finifugal is an adjective that describes a person who prolongs or tries to put off emotional endings.  It’s probably one reason why so many people ghost the end of their romantic relationships.

We’ve all experienced this feeling.  Finifugal is the resistance to the end of something.  As long as we’re living, we’re moving – and as long as I’m moving, I’m living.  I fully intend to take a couple of victory laps – but not any time soon.  I have a blogpost planned for The Last Time, as a bookend for The First Time one that I did some years ago.  I am pleasantly surprised by the small number of things that I’ve had to stop.

You keep coming around to read, and I’ll keep finding (allegedly) interesting things to blather about.

EXCELSIOR!

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I Was Once Human-Trafficked

In my first two years of high school, I did not form any of the romantic relationships that my Mother had threatened would occur.  There were two reasons for that.  First: the junior girls quickly attached themselves to sophomore and senior boys.  Second: I was a dork!

All that mysteriously changed, early in my third year.  By the end of September, I had acquired a girlfriend – or rather, apparently, a grade ten girl had acquired me.  I quickly went from wandering the halls with a steadily-decreasing crowd of drones, to doing it with a gorgeous female by my side.  Overnight, I stopped sitting at the loner, loser tables in the cafeteria, and moved over to the ‘dating’ section, to learn more about couples’ development.

We hung out at school, and after school, at Pop’s Diner.  We managed to see some movies, despite the fact that the theater was in my home town, she lived in the next town, five miles away, and my principal method of transportation was hitch-hiking.  Many times I walked her home after school.  I met her mother, who approved of me.

I was punching WAAAYYY above my weight here.  Puberty had been generous to this young woman.  I just didn’t get to reap all the benefits that I’d have liked.  We had some necking and petting sessions, but I didn’t have the aggressive self-confidence to demand or expect more.  We just didn’t have the time, or place, or privacy.

Still, it was an idyllic year, but it was fated not to be. At the beginning of the next school year, I walked her home one day…. and she gave me The Talk.  I was a nice guy, (Damn!  That smarted.) she really liked me, and we could be friends, (we were) but she had decided to be mature beyond her years.  There were things that she wanted, that I just couldn’t provide.  She wanted an older guy, with a job, and an income, and a car.  She wanted someone to take her dining and drinking, and dancing, and partying – to drive her around and show her off.  She was willing – perhaps anxious – to pay for the privilege, in the inevitable coin of the female realm.

It was not a total loss.  Before we amicably parted company – like a second-hand, Thrift Shop purse – she passed me off to her year-younger sister, who had expressed an interest in me.  This gal was more my social and emotional speed.  We shared many tastes and likes.  She was nicer, kinder, than her sister, and smarter.  We got along very well.  The biggest problem in our relationship was not US.

We were both blue-collar children.  My Father worked in a factory, as did hers.  I/we still had that transportation problem but, her best friend in high school was the daughter of the town’s successful doctor.  He lived in a big, fancy house, and drove a big, fancy car.  Her boyfriend lived in my town.  His father was a very successful insurance agent, who lived in a big, fancy, brick, century-house, and drove a big, fancy Lincoln Continental, which he got the occasional use of for double dates.

He did not approve of my girlfriend, and the doctor’s daughter did not approve of me.  We were socially inadequate.  It was not long before we too, parted ways.  I began dating a girl from my town, whose next boyfriend, who eventually replaced me, did sixty-days in jail.  The course of true love never runs smoothly.

This BEDA Challenge has run its course.  I’m going to sleep in, and take it easy tomorrow. (As opposed to what??!)  CU Monday, I hope.  🙂

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Shine A Cold Light On Comedy

The doctor says, “Larry, everything looks great. How are you doing mentally and emotionally? Are you at peace with God?”

Larry replies, “God and I are tight. He knows I have poor eyesight, so He’s fixed it so when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, poof! The light goes on. When I’m done, poof! The light goes off.”

“Wow, that’s incredible,” the doctor says.

A little later in the day, the doctor calls Larry’s wife.

“Bonnie,” he says, “Larry is doing fine! But I had to call you because I’m in awe of his relationship with God. Is it true that he gets up during the night, and poof, the light goes on in the bathroom, and when he’s done, poof, the light goes off?”

“Oh, no,” exclaims Bonnie. “He’s peeing in the refrigerator again!”

***

Two guys were out walking their dogs on a hot day when they pass by a bar. The first guy says, “Let’s go in there for a pint.”

The second guy says, “They won’t let us in with our dogs.”

First guy: “Sure they will, just follow my lead.”

He goes up to the pub, and sure enough, the bouncer says, “I can’t let you in here with that dog.”

He replies, “Oh, I’m blind and this is my seeing-eye dog.”

The bouncer says, “Ok then, come on in.”

The second guy sees this and does the same thing. The bouncer says, “You can’t come in here with a dog.”

He replies, “I’m blind and this is my seeing-eye dog.”

The bouncer responds, “You have a Chihuahua for a seeing-eye dog?”

The second guy exclaims, “They gave me a Chihuahua?”

***

A man was stranded on a desert island for 20 years when a navy ship finally spots him. The captain comes ashore and notices three huts. “What are they used for?” the captain asks.

“Well, the hut one on the left is where I live,” says the man. “And the one on the right is where I go to church.”

“So what about that hut in the middle?”

The man sneers, “That’s the church I used to attend!”

***

An old man goes to confession. He tells the priest that on Friday night, he’d been in the bar when he met a young woman. “Maybe 22,” he says. “A gorgeous blonde, I started lusting, Father.”

“Yes,” says the priest, “Lust is a dangerous sin.”

“There’s more,” says the man. “We went back to her place and made passionate love for hours.”

The priest pauses. “And how long has it been since your last confession?”

“I’ve never come. This is my first.”

“How is this your first confession?”

“I’m Jewish.”

“Then… why are you telling me all this?”

“Telling you? I’m telling everyone!”

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Don’t Get All Emotional

Emoticon

23 Emotions people feel, but can’t explain

http://fishingboatproceeds.tumblr.com/post/122182141428/23-emotions-people-feel-but-cant-explain

Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops.

Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.

Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.

Jouska: A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

Vemödalen: The frustration of photographing something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist.

Anecdoche: A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence.

Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster – to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire.

Exulansis: The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.

Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness.

Nodus Tollens: The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore.

Onism: The frustration of being stuck in just one body, which inhabits only one place at a time.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years.

Occhiolism: The awareness of the smallness of your perspective.

There’s no sense asking if you’ve experienced any of these.  We’ve all experienced them all, and will continue to, only now we’ve got a label that we can point to.  I will experience my usual, clearly-labeled pleasure if you visit, read, comment….  You know – the usual, happy déjà vu.  😀

 

 

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ICEBREAKER

ice

Recently, it seems that there’s a lot of people, who want to know a lot, about a lot of other people. A while ago, I published a post in two parts – 31 Facts In 31 Days.  Scarcely had I put it up, than I found another, apparently compiled by the neighborhood pervert voyeur.  It contained questions like, “What do you wear to bed?” There’s not enough vodka or trained psychiatrists in the world, for me to get into that.

This one is called Icebreaker, and can also be used at large meetings and seminars where people don’t know each other. Although, by the time you fill yours out, and read everybody else’s, I don’t know how much time would be left to actually get anything productive done.  I guess that’s what big meetings are like anyway.  It’s probably better than Angry Birds, Candy Crush, or Words With Friends.

This old Iceberg broke off the parent glacier about five years ago. It has been drifting down and blocking the blog-lanes ever since – a publishing hazard to sanity and good taste.  I thought in that time that I had pretty much revealed all, perhaps not though.  If you have the guts and the stamina, read on MacDuff.

Are you named after someone?
My paternal grandfather was Howard. My father was Cyril Howard.  There was a whiny kid in my town who everyone called ‘Howie’, and I grew to hate the name, so I never admit that my second name is Howard.
When is the last time you cried?
Guys cry??  Okay, okay – the last time I heard a real feel-good, beat-the-odds story, my eyes leaked – a little.
Do you like your handwriting?
Dear Lord no! With my tremor, my writing looks like a chicken on meth walked across an ink pad.
What is your favorite lunch meat?
Spicy Tokay or Mexican, salami
How many kids do you have?
Three, one of each….no, wait, just daughter, LadyRyl, and son Shimoniac.
If you were another person, would you be friends with you?
I’d have to be a member of a select group, because of my take-no-prisoners attitude and opinions, but, yes!
Do you use sarcasm?
Are you F**king kidding??  Hell yes!
Do you still have your tonsils?
No. Back when it was all the rage (1950), a surgeon cut my throat.
Would you bungee jump?
I have to take care of an increasingly fragile old body, but I would say yes – maybe till I got to the edge.  I’d like to skydive, into my bucket list.
What is your favorite cereal?
Spoon Sized Shredded Wheat, with strawberries
Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
I wear (cowboy) boots – no laces. When I don’t, I do.
Do you think you are strong? Physically?  More so than most men my age.  Mentally?  Emotionally?  Probably the same answer
What is your favorite ice cream?
In a bowl, or cone – Black Cherry.  With cake or pie – French Vanilla
What is the first thing you notice about people?
Often, how they inter-react with others, including me
Red or pink? I am seldom understated.  Intense blue, purple or green.  If I must – red.  It makes a statement.
What is the least favorite thing you like about yourself?
My increasingly failing memory, thank (insert your favorite deity) for search engines
What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? In the privacy of my own computer room??  You should be reading this with your eyes closed.  Dark blue track shorts and slippers.
What was the last thing you ate?
A small slab of white cake with some 10% cream and diced peaches
What are you listening to right now?
The sounds of both my allergic cat, and dog, snoring, as they lie guarding me
If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Plaid?  Probably Royal Blue
What are your favorite smells?
Oh, so many….wood smoke, rustling dry leaves, frying bacon
Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?
Some Paki named ‘Kevin’, who wanted to clean my ducts.  I told him to….
Favorite sport to watch?
Pretty much stopped watching TV.  Almost watch no sports.  Maybe American Pro Football
Real hair color?
I’d like to say black, but that was then, and this, is now mostly white.
Eye color?
Brown.
Do you wear contacts?
It’s all the wife can do to get me to wear my glasses.  Frightened as a child by the Three Stooges, I don’t poke my own finger in my eyes.
Favorite food to eat?
Yes please.  Probably tonight’s supper – potato pancakes
Scary movies or happy endings?
Some big explosions, car chases, gun fights, a little Punch and Judo, people hanging off tall buildings – that can be scary.  Then the bad guys are defeated, and it’s all a happy ending.
Last movie you watched?
Star Trek Into Darkness….see above
What color shirt are you wearing?
Maker claims it’s ‘Dusty Blue’.  I say it’s Steel Blue (greyish-blue), one of my more subdued shades.
Summer or winter?
Autumn!  If I must choose….Summer.  I don’t have to shovel rain.
Hugs or kisses?
Depends on the time, place and person….and if anybody’s watching
What book are you reading?
John Brunner – Wrong End of Time, Tom Clancy (actually, Mark Greaney) – Support And Defend, James Rollins – Devil Colony
What is on your mousepad?
Cat hair
What is the last TV program you watched?
Bones
What is the best sound?
One or more of my cats purring, preferably in my lap
Rolling Stones or The Beatles?
Different strokes for different folks – a bit, but not too much, of both, liberally mixed with many others.
What is the farthest you have traveled?
Since all trips have to be by car, I drove to Key West, Florida – 2765 Km = 1730 mi.
Do you have a special talent?
Yes!
Where were you born?
In the front bedroom of the family home, in Southampton, Ontario, Canada.

 

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FEELINGS

Scotty

The young stay-at-home mother looked out through the front window – and was devastated. There, in the middle of the street was the dead body of the family’s adorable, much-loved (and very expensive) Scottish Terrier.  Somehow he had got out, and some unfeeling fiend had hit and run over him, and hadn’t even had the good manners to stop and report the accident.

Bad enough how bereft she felt, but her young daughter would be inconsolable. Thinking of her loss, and how she would have to explain the trauma to her child, she burst into tears.

“What’s wrong Mommy?  Whyya cryin’?”  Standing there at the window sobbing, she was suddenly aware of her daughter, who had come up from the basement playroom – followed by their Scotty.  She looked back into the street – just in time to see a crumpled black garbage bag blow on down the road.

QUESTION – Is she entitled to her feelings??

Some years ago, the wife was rebuking me for a statement I hadn’t made, about an opinion I didn’t hold. She was telling me how insulted and unsupported she felt.  Since I hadn’t said what she’d accused me of, I told her that she shouldn’t feel that way.

I suddenly found that husbands, like small children, should be seen and not heard. Now I had sinned twice.  Not only did she think I’d ‘said something’, but now I was robbing her of something that was hers, something that she’d worked for, and owned, and deserved.  “How dare you tell me not to feel like that!  Don’t I have the right to my feelings?”

QUESTION – (based on my presumed innocence) Does she have a right to her feelings?

I was discussing this and related situations with a co-worker one day. He was of Turkish descent, from Cyprus.  I brought up the fact that, if a businessman meets with an Arabic official, and sits down and crosses his left leg over his right, so that his left foot points at the Arab, it is considered an insult.

I asked, “If the American doesn’t even know of the cultural beliefs, and intends no insult, then how can it be taken as an insult?”

“Oh no”, he says, “that is an insult!”  No knowledge – no intent –HOW??!!

QUESTION – Does the Turkey (and the Emir) have the right to his feelings?

A young, New-Age Mennonite co-worker went on and on about how gay people chose to be gay, and sin.  Finally tired of this attitude, one day I asked him just how he thought that homosexuals chose to be so.

He launched into a story about, “You know when you’re 12 or 13, and you first start noticing boys and girls, and you decide who you’re most attracted to? They decide to be gay”  12 or 13??!  He must have led a sheltered life out there on the farm.  I knew I was hetero by 4, when the little girl up the street taught me to play Doctor and Nurse.  Perhaps he just stopped noticing sheep.

I objected to his use of the word ‘decide’, and suggested he replace it with ‘realize.’  “It sounds to me as if they go through exactly the same development and situation as you did, only, instead of finding that they like the opposite sex, they find that they like the same sex.”

“Oh no,” he says! “I’m normal!  They choose to sin and be gay.”

QUESTION – Does this narrow-minded little twerp and his pastor have the right to their feelings about fags?

Do the Westboro Baptists have the right to their feelings when they interrupt funerals?? Do ISIS and al Qaeda have the right to their feelings about women, gays, Christians, and Democracy?  Big or small, it’s all the same.

I would never deprive anyone of the right to express valid emotions, but they have to be BASED ON REALITY. Are any of you incensed at that statement?  Tough luck – get over it.  You shouldn’t feel that way.   😉