“Good morning America, how are you. Said don’t you know me, I’m your native son.”
Arlo Guthrie City of New Orleans 1972
Welcome to Drivel Over Coffee. A blog that rambles through this thing called life, stopping here and there for reflection, enlightenment, storytelling, and joke telling. All the while my brain reverberates with the best music in the world – The ‘60’s and early 70’s. Yep, Lost in The Sixties.
I survived another Thanksgiving. Just barely, I might add. I intentionally cut way back on my helpings since being elderly you must do those things. Evidently, I still haven’t quite got the hang of that yet because I can really, really close to overdosing on everything Thanksgiving. So full I couldn’t eat dessert, I could barely swallow my pills. My stupor didn’t lift until the next morning. Oh, my goodness. Sven and Svenette prepare two A+ turkeys, dressing, potatoes, and all the fixin’s. Debby, the youngest elder, brought her renown mac and cheese and others brought their favorites. Next year I declare it to be illegal.
All told I think we had seventeen mouths to feed which were by all account well fed. My brother and his family were there as was Sven’s mother, brother and sister-in-law. So, a lot of stories and good times were exchanged. Of course, I reminded my brother of my magic index finger that can put him on the ground, but I decided not to apply the move because at his age I didn’t want to have him hurt himself.
After Thanksgiving Poem
I ate too much Turkey, I ate too much corn
I ate too much pudding and pie
I’m stuffed up with muffins and too much stuffin’
I’m probably going to die.
I piled up my plate and I ate, and I ate.
But I wish I had known when to stop,
For I’m so crammed with yams, sauces, gravies, and jams
That my buttons are starting to pop!
I’m full of tomatoes and French-fried potatoes
My stomach is swollen and sore,
But there’s still some dessert so I guess it won’t hurt if
I eat just a little bit more!
What is the big deal with black Friday? I black out every Friday.
I read where a small business owner was dismayed when a brand new corporate chain much like his own opened up next door and erected a huge sign which read BEST BLACK FRIDAY DEALS. He was horrified when another competitor opened on his right, and announced its arrival with an even larger sign, reading LOWEST BLACK FRIDAY PRICES. The small business owner panicked, until he got an idea. He put the biggest sign of all over his own shop-it read… MAIN ENTRANCE.
“I think the craziest thing I ever did was camp out with my Texas relatives for the entire night before Thanksgiving. I don’t really ‘do’ Black Friday, but they do, so I decided I would try it. We brought a tent and a camp stove and set up in a Best Buy parking lot. And it was awesome! We made so many friends, some of whom I am still Facebook friends with today. I wouldn’t do it every year, but what I found was the event wasn’t so much about consumerism as it was togetherness. Also, nachos made on a camp stove in the Best Buy parking lot are the best.” Ah, that was another lifetime.
Black Friday Night Pizza
My current wife and I decided to order a pizza Friday night. We don’t do this often but when we do, we order from this little-known place called Gordon’s Pizza. They have good thin crust and always seem to know what I want somehow which is pretty cool. Here is how my order went this time however.
Me: Is this Gordon’s Pizza?
Google: No sir, it’s Google Pizza.
Me: I must have dialed a wrong number. Sorry.
Google: No sir, Google bought Gordon’s Pizza last month.
Me: OK. I would like to order a pizza.
Google: Do you want your usual, sir?
Me: My usual? You know me?
Google: According to our caller ID data sheet, the last 12 times you called you ordered an extra-large pizza with three cheeses, sausage, pepperoni, on a thin crust.
Me: OK! That’s what I want …
Google: May I suggest that this time you order a pizza with ricotta, arugula, sun-dried tomatoes and olives on a whole wheat gluten-free thin crust?
Me: What? I detest vegetables.
Google: Your cholesterol is not good, sir.
Me: How the hell do you know?
Google: Well, we cross-referenced your home phone number with your medical records. We have the result of your blood tests for the last 7 years.
Me: Okay, but I do not want your rotten vegetable pizza! I already take medication for my cholesterol.
Google: Excuse me sir, but you have not taken your medication regularly. According to our database, you only purchased a box of 30 cholesterol tablets once, at Hy-Vee Drug Store 4 months ago.
Me: I bought more from another drugstore.
Google: That doesn’t show on your credit card statement.
Me: I paid in cash.
Google: But you did not withdraw enough cash according to your bank statement.
Me: I have other sources of cash.
Google: That doesn’t show on your last tax return unless you bought them using an undeclared income source, which is against the law.
Me: WHAT THE HELL?
Google: I’m sorry, sir, we use such information only with the sole intention of helping you.
Me: Enough already! I’m sick to death of Google, Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp and all the others. I’m going to an island without internet, cable TV, where there is no cell phone service and no one to watch me or spy on me.
Google: I understand sir, but you need to renew your passport first. It expired 6 weeks ago…
Me: Click, Sue, do we still have a frozen pizza in the freezer? Better check for it, I think we may need it. Even if this Google outfit delivers a pizza, I am not sure I trust it to eat it. If you know what I mean.
Lost It All
I talked to a to a homeless man this morning and asked him how he ended up this way. The man was sitting on the curb between Dunkin Donuts and CVS Pharmacy. He said, “Up until last week, I still had it all. I had plenty to eat, my clothes were washed and pressed, I had a roof over my head, I had HDTV and internet, and I went to the gym, the pool, and the library. I was working on my MBA on-line. I had no bills and no debt. I even had full medical coverage.”
I felt sorry for him, so I asked, “what happened? Drugs? Alcohol? Divorce?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” he said, “I was “paroled.”
A man in northern Minnesota woke up one morning to find a bear on his roof. He looked in the Yellow Pages, and sure enough, there was an ad for “Up North Bear Removers.” He called the number listed and the bear remover said he’d be over within an hour.
The bear remover arrived, and got out of his van. He had a ladder, a baseball bat, a 12-gauge shotgun, and a mean looking, heavily scarred old pit bull.
“What are you going to do.?” The homeowner asked.
“I’m going to put this ladder up against the roof, then I’m going to go up there, and knock the bear off the roof with this baseball bat. When the bear falls off the roof, the pit bull is trained to grab his testicles, and not let go. The bear will then be subdued enough for me to put him in the cage in the back of the van.
He then handed the shotgun to the homeowner. “What’s the shotgun for?” the homeowner asked. “If the bear knocks me off the roof, you shoot the dog.”
Little Johnny – Again – Really?
I would never name my kid Johnny. Just because he would always have to live down the Little Johnny jokes for the rest of his life. I am in favor of Little Frankie jokes personally.
Little Johnny was sitting in class doing math problems when his teacher picked him to answer a question, “Johnny, if there were five birds sitting on a fence and you shot one with your gun, how many would be left?” “None,” replied Johnny, “cause the rest would fly away.” “Well, the answer is four,” said the teacher, “but I like the way you’re thinking.”
Little Johnny says, “I have a question for you. If there were three women eating ice cream cone in a shop, one was licking her cone, the second was biting her cone and the third was sucking her cone, which one is married?” “Well,” said the teacher nervously, “I guess the one sucking the cone,” “No,” said Little Johnny, “the one with the wedding ring on her finger, but I like the way you’re thinking.”
At Thanksgiving Dinner, a couple of years ago, we had a family join us. It was nice to have them. We sat down for the meal and his dad, Dale asked if it would be okay if, you guessed it, Little Johnny, could lead the prayer. “No problem”, I responded.
“But I don’t know how to pray,” he replied. “Just pray for your family, friends and neighbors, the poor, etc.,” said his father. “Okay”, the boy said.
“Dear Lord…. Thank you for the Bailey’s and the Schaub’s, their children, who finished all my cookies and ice cream. Bless them so we won’t come again. Forgive our neighbor’s son, who removed my sister’s clothes and wrestled with her on her bed. This coming Christmas, please send clothes to all those poor ladies on my Daddy’s Blackberry who do not have any clothes. And provide shelter for the homeless man who uses Mom’s room when Daddy is at work. AMEN” Dinner was postponed until Dale, Little Johnny and family made a hasty retreat out the door.
…. Well my friends, allowing me into your day is always an honor. If I can make at least one-person smile, laugh till they leak, or maybe spit out a drink, my day was not wasted. Until we meet again -TA!”
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