---o0o---
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Shagy Dog Story No. 13: The Big Hole
The Big Hole
Two guys are walking through the woods and come across a big, deep hole.
"Wow," said the first guy, "that looks deep." The other replied, "Sure does. Toss a few pebbles in there and see how deep it is."
They pick up a few pebbles and throw them in and wait. No noise. One guy said, "Jeeez. That is REALLY deep... here... throw one of these great big rocks down there. Those should make a noise."
They pick up a couple of football-sized rocks and toss them into the hole and wait... and wait. Nothing.
They look at each other in amazement. One gets a determined look on his face and says, "Hey... over here in the weeds, there's a railroad tie. Help me carry it over here. When we toss THAT sucker in, it's GOTTA make some noise."
The two drag the heavy tie over to the hole and heave it in. Not a sound comes from the hole.
Suddenly, out of the nearby woods a goat appears, running like the wind. It rushes toward the two men and then right past them, running as fast as it's legs will carry it. Suddenly it leaps in the air and into the hole.
The two men are astonished with what they've just seen. Then, out of the woods comes a farmer who spots the men and ambles over.
"Hey. You two guys seen my goat out here?"
"You bet we did!," one of the guys answered. "It was the craziest thing I've ever seen! It came running like crazy and just jumped into this hole!"
"You bet we did!," one of the guys answered. "It was the craziest thing I've ever seen! It came running like crazy and just jumped into this hole!"
"Nah", says the farmer, "That couldn't have been MY goat. My goat was chained to a railroad tie."
---o0o---
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
ATIT Reheated: An open letter to my teenage son
By Jack Brummet, Music Editor
[From All This Is That, Friday, January 06, 2006]
No wonder we were crazy in the 60's. This "song" was a big hit on AM radio. A lot of parents thought it was a smart piece of writing (as opposed to, say, smarmy, reactionary claptrap). It was just flat depressing. But then that's the way it was. I remember a lot of heated arguments with angry adults, and teachers and Sunday school teachers over the war and protesting and burning draft cards. I even witnessed an actual father-son fight over the war. It was especially strange since this song co-existed on the radio, and the charts, with a lot of amazing music.
The first part of the song, you think, "yeah, this guy is talking sense here." But then, after a couple of minutes, he gets down to business. And it is ugly business.
An Open Letter To My Teenage Son
by Victor Lundberg
Dear Son:
You ask my reaction to long hair or beards on young people
Some great men have worn long hair and beards
George Washington and Abraham Lincoln
If to you long hair or a beard is a symbol of independence
If you believe in your heart that the principles of this country
Our heritage, is worthy of this display of pride
That all men shall remain free
That free men at all times will not inflict their personal limitations
Of achievement on others,
That demands your own rights as well as the rights of others
And be willing to fight for this right, you have my blessings
You ask that I not judge you merely as a teenager
To judge you on your own personal habits, abilities and goals
This is a fair request and I promise that I will not judge any person
Only as a teenager if you will constantly remind yourself that some of my
generation judge people by their race, their belief or the color
of their skin and that this is no more right than saying all
teenagers are drunken dope addicts or glue sniffers
If you will judge every human being on his own individual potential
I will do the same.
You ask me if God is dead
This is a question each individual must answer within himself
But a warm summer day with all its brightness
All its sound, all its exhilarating breathiness just happened
God is love. Remember that God is a guide and not a storm trooper
Realize that many of the past and present generation
Because of a well intended but unjustifiable misconception
Have attempted to legislate morality
This created part of the basis
For your generation's need to rebel against our society
With this knowledge perhaps your children will never ask
Is God dead?
I sometimes think much of mankind is attempting to work Him to death
You ask my opinion of draft card burners. I would answer this way
All past wars have been dirty, unfair, immoral, bloody and second-guessed
However, history has shown most of them necessary
If you doubt that our free enterprise system
In the United States is worth protecting, if you doubt the principles
Upon which this country was founded, that we remain free to choose our religion
Our individual endeavors, our method of government
If you doubt that each free individual in this great country
should reap rewards commensurate only with his own efforts
Than it is doubtful you belong here
If you doubt that people who govern us
Should be selected by their desire
To allow us to strive for any goal we feel capable of obtaining
Than its doubtful you should participate in their selection
If you are not grateful to a country
That gave your father the opportunity to work
For his family to give you the things you have and you do not feel pride
Enough to fight for your right to continue in this
Manner than I assume the blame for your failure
To recognize the true value of our birthright
And I will remind you that your mother will love
you no matter what you do, because she is a woman
And I love you too son
But I also love our country and the principles for which we stand
And if you decide to burn your draft card
then burn your birth certificate at the same time
From that moment on, I have no son.
---o0o---
All This Is That contains copyrighted material the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. We make these materials available to advance the understanding of political, economic, literary, artistic, and social issues. In some cases we satirize, parody, or lampoon materials from other sources. We believe this constitutes a 'fair use' of copyrighted material as provided for by section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material on this site is distributed without profit for research, educational, and entertainment purposes. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for purposes of your own that go beyond 'fair use', please read and follow our Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 license and attribute the work to All This Is That, along with our URL (http://jackbrummet.blogspot.com).
[From All This Is That, Friday, January 06, 2006]
No wonder we were crazy in the 60's. This "song" was a big hit on AM radio. A lot of parents thought it was a smart piece of writing (as opposed to, say, smarmy, reactionary claptrap). It was just flat depressing. But then that's the way it was. I remember a lot of heated arguments with angry adults, and teachers and Sunday school teachers over the war and protesting and burning draft cards. I even witnessed an actual father-son fight over the war. It was especially strange since this song co-existed on the radio, and the charts, with a lot of amazing music.
The first part of the song, you think, "yeah, this guy is talking sense here." But then, after a couple of minutes, he gets down to business. And it is ugly business.
An Open Letter To My Teenage Son
by Victor Lundberg
Dear Son:
You ask my reaction to long hair or beards on young people
Some great men have worn long hair and beards
George Washington and Abraham Lincoln
If to you long hair or a beard is a symbol of independence
If you believe in your heart that the principles of this country
Our heritage, is worthy of this display of pride
That all men shall remain free
That free men at all times will not inflict their personal limitations
Of achievement on others,
That demands your own rights as well as the rights of others
And be willing to fight for this right, you have my blessings
You ask that I not judge you merely as a teenager
To judge you on your own personal habits, abilities and goals
This is a fair request and I promise that I will not judge any person
Only as a teenager if you will constantly remind yourself that some of my
generation judge people by their race, their belief or the color
of their skin and that this is no more right than saying all
teenagers are drunken dope addicts or glue sniffers
If you will judge every human being on his own individual potential
I will do the same.
You ask me if God is dead
This is a question each individual must answer within himself
But a warm summer day with all its brightness
All its sound, all its exhilarating breathiness just happened
God is love. Remember that God is a guide and not a storm trooper
Realize that many of the past and present generation
Because of a well intended but unjustifiable misconception
Have attempted to legislate morality
This created part of the basis
For your generation's need to rebel against our society
With this knowledge perhaps your children will never ask
Is God dead?
I sometimes think much of mankind is attempting to work Him to death
You ask my opinion of draft card burners. I would answer this way
All past wars have been dirty, unfair, immoral, bloody and second-guessed
However, history has shown most of them necessary
If you doubt that our free enterprise system
In the United States is worth protecting, if you doubt the principles
Upon which this country was founded, that we remain free to choose our religion
Our individual endeavors, our method of government
If you doubt that each free individual in this great country
should reap rewards commensurate only with his own efforts
Than it is doubtful you belong here
If you doubt that people who govern us
Should be selected by their desire
To allow us to strive for any goal we feel capable of obtaining
Than its doubtful you should participate in their selection
If you are not grateful to a country
That gave your father the opportunity to work
For his family to give you the things you have and you do not feel pride
Enough to fight for your right to continue in this
Manner than I assume the blame for your failure
To recognize the true value of our birthright
And I will remind you that your mother will love
you no matter what you do, because she is a woman
And I love you too son
But I also love our country and the principles for which we stand
And if you decide to burn your draft card
then burn your birth certificate at the same time
From that moment on, I have no son.
---o0o---
All This Is That contains copyrighted material the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. We make these materials available to advance the understanding of political, economic, literary, artistic, and social issues. In some cases we satirize, parody, or lampoon materials from other sources. We believe this constitutes a 'fair use' of copyrighted material as provided for by section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material on this site is distributed without profit for research, educational, and entertainment purposes. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for purposes of your own that go beyond 'fair use', please read and follow our Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 license and attribute the work to All This Is That, along with our URL (http://jackbrummet.blogspot.com).
Seth Kinman's gift for President Andrew Johnson: The Grizzly-Bear Chair
By Jack Brummet, History Editor
A wild and woolly fur trapper from California—Seth Kinman—shot the bear and made this "Grizzly-Bear Chair" and gave it to President Andrew Johnson in 1865.
As a side note, Andrew Johnson is a far distant relative of mine on my father's (Brummet) side. Of course, if I was related to a President, it had to be the first one who was impeached. He became President following Lincoln's assassination, and was a controversial, and probably incompetent President. He was also one of the sourest looking Presidents of all time. Like his brother-in-history Bill Clinton, he was impeached in the House, but acquitted in the Senate. One of President Johnson's last important acts as President was granting unconditional amnesty to all Confederates on Christmas Day, December 25, 1868, just after after the election of Ulysses S. Grant.
---o0o---
Sonnet (with a sidebar on the Embassy Theater)
This is a sonnet I wrote for my wife many years ago, tossed aside, and recently resurrected, and revised.
The Embassy Theater mentioned is the same one in the snapshots below--it was located at 3rd and Union in Seattle. By the late 70's/early '80's, it was operating as a porn theatre. It closed sometime in the 1980's, and is now an excellent music club--The Triple Door.
Sonnet
By Jack Brummet
It didn't matter where as long as they did.
Even the five dollar a night Glen Hotel
With twelve hours to cling on the ancient springs
Over The Embassy blue movie house.
He watched her fall asleep that rainy night
And he became a friend of the world.
Three years later, he shuffled off the bus
In NYC and threaded himself through
A surging gauntlet of hands and eyes.
He snagged her in a flying bear hug.
She steered him to the southbound IND
Into those incognito years in Brooklyn
Where they learned we don't make love, love makes us.
It didn't matter where as long as they did.
---o0o---
The Embassy Theater mentioned is the same one in the snapshots below--it was located at 3rd and Union in Seattle. By the late 70's/early '80's, it was operating as a porn theatre. It closed sometime in the 1980's, and is now an excellent music club--The Triple Door.
The Embassy in the 1930's
And, The Embassy in the later years
Sonnet
By Jack Brummet
It didn't matter where as long as they did.
Even the five dollar a night Glen Hotel
With twelve hours to cling on the ancient springs
Over The Embassy blue movie house.
He watched her fall asleep that rainy night
And he became a friend of the world.
Three years later, he shuffled off the bus
In NYC and threaded himself through
A surging gauntlet of hands and eyes.
He snagged her in a flying bear hug.
She steered him to the southbound IND
Into those incognito years in Brooklyn
Where they learned we don't make love, love makes us.
It didn't matter where as long as they did.
---o0o---
Shaggy Dog Story No. 14: Hallowe'en
Shaggy Dog Story No. 14 - The Hallowe'en Story  Photo by John Haslam. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution license. Bob Hill and his new wife, Betty, were vacationing in Europe. They were driving in a rental car along a rather deserted highway near Transylvania. It was late at night and raining very hard. Bob could barely see the road in front of the car. Suddenly, the car skids out of control. Bob attempts to control the car but to no avail. The car swerves and smashes into a tree. Moments later Bob shakes his head to clear the fog. In a daze he looks over at the passenger seat and sees his wife unconscious with her head bleeding. Despite the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knows he has to get her medical assistance. Bob carefully picks his wife up and begins trudging down the road. After a short while, he sees a light. He heads towards the light, which is coming from a large, old house. He approaches the door and knocks. Several minutes pass. Finally, a small hunched man opens the door. Bob immediately blurts, "Hello, my name is Bob Hill and this is my wife, Betty. We've been in a terrible accident and my wife has been seriously hurt. May I please use your phone?" "I'm sorry," replied the hunchback, "but we don't have a phone. My master is a doctor so come in and I will get him." Bob brings Betty into the house. An older man comes down the stairs. "I'm afraid my assistant may have misled you. I am not a medical doctor. I am a scientist. It is many miles to the nearest clinic and I have had a basic medical training so I will see what I can do. Igor, bring them down to the laboratory." With that, Igor picks up Betty and carries her downstairs. Bob follows closely behind. Igor places Betty on a table in the lab. Bob collapses from exhaustion and his own injuries, so Igor places Bob on an adjoining table. After a brief examination Igor's master looks worried. "Things are serious, Igor. Prepare a transfusion." Igor and his master work feverishly but to no avail. Bob and Betty Hill are no more. The Hills' deaths upset Igor's master greatly. He trudges up the steps to his conservatory, which houses his majestic grand piano. It is here that he has always found solace in times of trouble. He begins to play and a stirring, almost haunting melody fills the house. Meanwhile, Igor is down in the lab tidying up. His eyes catch movement and he notices the fingers on Betty's hand twitch, keeping time to the haunting piano music. He watches with amazement as Bob's arm begins to rise, marking the beat. Then Betty and Bob both sit up straight. Igor is beside himself. He dashes up the stairs to the conservatory, bursts into the room, and shouts: "Master, Master! The Hills are alive with the sound of music!" ---o0o--- |
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Faces No. 281 - Domestics
by Jack Brummet
[1 foot x 4 feet - Sharpie and pencil on a thin plywood sign Keelin bought years ago at a going out of business sale at a Ben Franklin Store. I finally decided to draw on it ten years later.]
[1 foot x 4 feet - Sharpie and pencil on a thin plywood sign Keelin bought years ago at a going out of business sale at a Ben Franklin Store. I finally decided to draw on it ten years later.]
click to enlarge
—o0o—
Shaggy Dog Story No. 13: The Duck
The Duck
A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she lay her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird's chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly And said, "I'm so sorry, your pet has passed away."
The distressed owner wailed, "Are you sure? "Yes, I'm sure. The duck is dead," he replied. "How can you be so sure", she protested. "I mean, you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."
The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few moments later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table, and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog and took it out and returned a few moments later with a beautiful cat. The cat jumped up on the table and also sniffed the bird from its beak to its tail and back again. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly, jumped down, and strolled out of the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck." Then the vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys, and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman.
The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. "$150!" she cried. "$150 just to tell me my duck is dead?!!"
The vet shrugged. "I'm sorry. If you'd taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20. But what with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it all adds up."
A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she lay her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird's chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly And said, "I'm so sorry, your pet has passed away."
The distressed owner wailed, "Are you sure? "Yes, I'm sure. The duck is dead," he replied. "How can you be so sure", she protested. "I mean, you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."
The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few moments later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table, and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog and took it out and returned a few moments later with a beautiful cat. The cat jumped up on the table and also sniffed the bird from its beak to its tail and back again. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly, jumped down, and strolled out of the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck." Then the vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys, and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman.
The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. "$150!" she cried. "$150 just to tell me my duck is dead?!!"
The vet shrugged. "I'm sorry. If you'd taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20. But what with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it all adds up."
---o0o---
Monday, March 26, 2012
Rick Santorum's gun to the head—The Obamaville Movie
The best image from Rick Santorum's "trailer" Obamaville. (which you can find here). The one minute movie shows America two years from now after the President is reelected. It's essentially "It Can't Happen Here" — the Russians are running the show; religion is over; gas prices lead to suicides, and everything is run down and desperate. It feeds into the paranoia of his core constituency...
---o0o---
Shaggy Dog Story No. 12—The IRS Audit, a/k/a gee whiz
The IRS Audit  "I'm a great gambler and I can prove it," says Grandpa. "How about a demonstration?" The auditor thinks for a moment and says, "Okay. Go ahead." Grandpa says, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye." The auditor thinks a moment and says, "It's a bet." Grandpa removes his glass eye and bites it. The auditor's jaw drops. Grandpa says, "Now, I'll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye." Now, the auditor can tell Grandpa isn't blind so he takes the bet. Grandpa removes his dentures and bites his good eye. The auditor is shaken down to his boots when realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Grandpa's attorney as a witness. He's nervous. "Want to go double or nothing?" Grandpa asks. "I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between." The twice burned auditor, is understandably cautious now. But he decides there's no way this old guy could possibly manage that stunt. He agrees to the bet. Grandpa stands beside the desk and unzips his pants. Although he strains mightily, he can't reach the wastebasket on the other side. He pees all over the auditor's desk. The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win. But Grandpa's attorney moans and puts his head in his hands. "Are you okay?" the auditor asks. "Not really," says the attorney. "This morning, when Grandpa told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty-five thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over your desk and that you'd be happy about it." ---o0o--- |
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Rick Perry's speech at last night's Gridiron dinner (the best speech of his life)
By Jack Brummet, Speech and debate editor
Mark Shields said that Governor Rick Perry achieved career redemption with his speech at the 127th anniversary dinner of The Gridiron Club and Foundation (you know, the annual press dinner with sometimes funny speeches...) dinner last night. It's pretty good:
Mark Shields said that Governor Rick Perry achieved career redemption with his speech at the 127th anniversary dinner of The Gridiron Club and Foundation (you know, the annual press dinner with sometimes funny speeches...) dinner last night. It's pretty good:
"I can't tell you ... what a relief it is to be on a stage with just one podium. ... [Laughter]] The Gridiron's the only time that politicians and journalists can get together for some lighthearted silliness - well, I mean, other than the debates. ... Some have said that my debating style is very similar to that other Texas Cicero, George W. Bush. [Laughter] Only difference between GEORGE and me is that I say, 'Oops.' [Applause] ... Y'know, I shouldn't make fun of George. But he's, like, the only one that I can. [Laughter] Y'know, I say stuff like Solyndra's a country or that the voting age is 21. But MITT would say things like his wife drives a coupla Cadillacs, or his pals own NASCAR teams. Y'know, my problem was sayin' stuff that WASN'T right. Mitt's problem is sayin' stuff that IS. [Applause]
So with all my gaffes, people forgot that I once led the Republican primary. It was the most exhilarating three hours of my life. Awesome! Now, officially, I have only suspended my campaign -- I never really quit. So technically, I'm still in the race - 'cept I can go home, spend the evening with Anita, relax, and still do about as well. Well, listen, here's the hardest part for me: The weakest Republican field in history -- and they kicked my BUTT! ... Y'know, very once in a while, Herman Cain, Michele Bachman and myself'll get together. We'll kinda act silly, we'll say some stupid things-you know, kinda like old times. ...
"Y'know it's weird standing next to [Mitt] on the debate podium . Y'know, I keep waiting for him to say, 'Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?' ... I LIKE Mitt Romney. I mean, I like Mitt Romney as much as one really good looking man can like a really good looking man -and not break Texas law. And then there's Rick Santorum. I used to have SO much fun needling Rick. I'd say, 'Now, Rick, tell me again, which one of the Village People are you? You're the policeman? Or you're the Indian?' And then there's Ron Paul. ... Y'know, he kinda reminds me of that crazy uncle that you expect to pull a nickel out of your ear. ... Then we have Gingrich. He's like this Pillsbury Doughboy, with this really huge brain. ... I do wish I were still in the race. I mean, I don't know why I didn't do better: Governor of a big state. Former military pilot. I graduated from Texas A&M with a degree in animal husbandry. [Laughter] Maybe that was the problem. Animal husbandry: That sounds like what Rick Santorum thinks gay marriage leads to. ...
"Now, before I forget, which has been known to happen [laughter], it's really good to see DNC Chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz [who spoke after him]. And even though Debbie and I are from different parties, she has been very, very complimentary. Earlier she told me, she said, 'Rick, you don't know how sorry I am that you won't be your party's nominee.' [Laughter] [Turning to her at the head table:] Thank you, darlin'.
"Now, President Obama couldn't be here. I read that he is in Korea, at the DMZ. Would somebody tell me: Why do ya have to go all the way to Korea to get a DRIVER'S LICENSE? Must be something to do with that birth certificate thing. But filling in tonight for the president very ably is Secretary Panetta. And during the campaign, I said that Secretary Panetta should resign. I regret saying that ... We have had Predator drones circling the governor's mansion. ... After what I've been through, our motto is, 'Y'know, if you can't laugh at yourself -- well, there's always Herman Cain.' ...
"When we did our announcement tour, there was this huge caravan of reporters, including the Washington Post's Dan Balz, who was following our bus. And Dan was lookin' a little scruffy. He had this days' old beard. He had a baseball cap on. And I spent the day calling him 'Wolf.' Finally it dawned on me: That's not Wolf Blitzer! That's Dan Balz. So, Dan, wherever you are in the audience tonight, I wanna say 'thank you' for being a gentleman, and never mentioning it.
"Most of the reporters and the correspondents trailing us weren't well-known. They weren't established journalists like Dan and the members of this club. But they were often the younger reporters, on the lower rungs of the business. I wasn't always happy about what they wrote -- but they became part of the traveling family, because our lives became intertwined. They ate the same crappy campaign food; they got up at the same early hour; they heard the same speech, over and over. But I honestly got the sense that they were sad to see our campaign end. Anita and I still keep up with 'em. As a matter of fact, we just got a note from one just the other day. I saw one tonight as I came in. So, tonight, I'd like to close not by recognizing you big shots in the business out there -- but all those reporters who are out there workin' - workin' their butts off, worryin' about the future of newspapers, worryin' about whether or not the news budget is gonna be cut. I truly like 'em and respect 'em. And I hope one day those reporters in that caravan following our bus make it to this illustrious dinner -- and are up on that stage, doing those skits and enjoying the rewards of their professional success, like we are tonight."
---o0o---
It can't happen here: Rick Santorum's "Welcome to Obamaville" ad
With the tone of a zombie or horror trailer, and a touch of "It can't happen here," the Santorum campaign has released this "trailer." As they say, this is "more than a town - it's a cautionary tale!" Notice how, at :40 seconds, Ahmadinejad's face briefly morphs into President Obama's.
---o0o---
R.J. Matson's take on the Stand Your Ground Defense
R.J. Matson, the editorial cartoonist of the St. Louis Dispatch, published this cartoon earlier this week on the STAND YOUR GROUND DEFENSE [St. Louis Post-Dispatch, March 23, 2012]:
---o0o---
All This Is That contains copyrighted material the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. We make these materials available to advance the understanding of political, economic, literary, artistic, and social issues. In some cases we satirize, parody, or lampoon materials from other sources. We believe this constitutes a 'fair use' of copyrighted material as provided for by section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material on this site is distributed without profit for research, educational, and entertainment purposes. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for purposes of your own that go beyond 'fair use', please read and follow our Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 license and attribute the work to All This Is That, along with our URL (http://jackbrummet.blogspot.com).
Faces No. 280 - No curves
by Jack Brummet
I keep trying to draw a face with no curves at all. . .
I keep trying to draw a face with no curves at all. . .
---o0o---
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Dick Cheney's heart transplant and what the surprised surgeons found
By Pablo Fanque, National Affairs Editor
The Associated Press reported this morning that Ex-Vice President Dick Cheney, who has suffered five heart attacks since he was 37, "underwent a heart transplant Saturday after more than 20 months on a transplant list, according to his office."
Two years ago, the former VP had a manual heart pump installed (generally a transitional device for people on the transplant list). At the time he told reporters that he "hadn’t decided whether to seek a heart transplant."
All This Is That contacted the hospital press office, as well as some of the transplant team medical staff early this afternoon.
"It was the damnedest thing you ever saw," a member of the surgical team told All This Is That. "After we opened up his chest to perform the operation, we removed what we thought was his heart. It turned out to be a fat lump of bituminous coal! He was, in effect, some kind of zombie. We installed the new heart, fired it up, and he is now recovering. . ."
---o0o---
Shaggy Dog Story No. 12 - Quasimodo
After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of Notre Dame sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed. The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process.
After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had just about decided to call it a day. But just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer's job. Incredulously, the bishop blurted out, "But . . . but . . . you have no arms!" "No matter," said the man: "Observe!" And he began striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.
The bishop listened in astonishment, convinced he had finally found a suitable replacement for Quasimodo. But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window, falling to his death in the street below. The stunned bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before.
As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked, "Bishop, who was this man?" "I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, "but his face rings a bell."
The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist the bishop continued his interviews for a new bell ringer of Notre Dame.
The first man to approach him said, "Your Excellency, I am the brother of the poor armless wretch who fell to his death from this very belfry yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace him in this duty." The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armless man's brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he groaned, clutched at his chest, and died on the spot.
Two monks, hearing the bishop's cries of grief at this second tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side. "What has happened? Who is this man?" the first monk asked breathlessly. "I don't know his name," sighed the distraught bishop, "but he's a dead ringer for his brother."
---o0o---
Faces No. 279 - Eighteen
By Jack Brummet
[hand-drawn scratchboard, digitally reversed]
[hand-drawn scratchboard, digitally reversed]
click to enlarge
---o0o---
Friday, March 23, 2012
Shaggy Dog Story No. 11: The Blind Pilots
 The cockpit door closes, the engines start up. The plane moves faster and faster down the runway. People by the windows realize they're heading right towards the water at the end of the runway. Panic ensues. Screams fill the air. At that very moment, the plane lifts smoothly into the air. The passengers relax and laugh a little sheepishly. Up in the cockpit, the co-pilot turns to the pilot. "Y'know, Bob," he says. "One day they're going to scream too late, and we're all gonna die." ---o0o--- |
Ex-Senator Rick Santorum endorses President Barack Obama: I love this guy!
By Pablo Fanque, National Affairs Editor
.jpg)
Ex-Senator Rick Santorum said yesterday that Romney is so much like Obama, voters in November should just stick with the incumbent. In Texas, the candidate once again held up front-runner Mittens as the Etch A Sketch candidate, who will change his positions after the primary.
"You win by giving people a choice," he said. "You win by giving people the opportunity to see a different vision for our country, not someone who's just going to be a little different than the person in there. If you're going to be a little different, we might as well stay with what we have instead of taking a risk with what may be the Etch A Sketch candidate of the future." I effing love this guy!
Romney's top political strategist suggested that Ex-Senator Santorum's continued presence in the race makes him President Obama's "most valuable player."
---o0o---
Thursday, March 22, 2012
New Public Policy Polling results show Mitt Romney less popular than George W. Bush
By Pablo Fanque, National Affairs Editor
A new survey from Public Policy Polling shows that Ex-Governor Mitt Romney is viewed favorably by 33 percent of voters, with nearly double that number—58%—viewing him unfavorably. Ex-President George W. Bush, who reached Nixon-style lows while in The White House, fared far better in the same poll—45% favorable and 46% unfavorable. As Public Policy Polling wrote, "The former president has seen something of a rehabilitation in his image since he left office and memories of his administration have begun to fade, but for him to be stronger than Romney among independent voters just a few years after an economic meltdown and disaster in Iraq is striking. "
This poll also seems to put the lie to Romney's oft repeated claim of electability and inevitability: "Romney is actually not the most electable Republican candidate on this poll. Ron Paul and Rick Santorum both do a point better than him, trailing by 3 points at 46-43 and 48-45 respectively."
—o0o—
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Shaggy Dog Story No. 10: The Checkout Line
 The Checkout Line She finally overtook him at the checkout, and she turned to him and said, "I hope I haven't made you feel ill at ease, it's just that you look so much like my late son." He answered, "That's okay." "I know it's silly, but if you'd call out "Good bye, Mom" as I leave the store, it would make me feel so happy." She then went through the checkout. As she was on her way out of the store the man called out, "Goodbye, Mom." The little old lady waved, and smiled back at him. Pleased that he had brought a little sunshine into someone's day, he went to pay for his groceries. "That comes to $121.85," said the clerk. "How come so much? I only bought five 5 items." The clerk replied, "Yeah, but your Mother said you'd be paying for her things too." ---o0o--- |
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Painting: Accidental Death
by Jack Brummet
[18"x24", watercolor, pencil, and Sharpie on a found sheet of paper used as an illustration in a moot court trial. I added the scribbles and illustration; 100% hand-made]
[18"x24", watercolor, pencil, and Sharpie on a found sheet of paper used as an illustration in a moot court trial. I added the scribbles and illustration; 100% hand-made]
click to enlarge
---o0o---
Shaggy dog story No. 9: Moishe and The Pope
Moishe and the Pope: a shaggy dog story
In the Dark Ages, the Pope decreed that all Jews had to leave Rome. The Jews did not want to leave so the Pope challenged them to prove that they could remain. No one wanted the responsibility until Moishe, the synagogue janitor, volunteered.
Since no one else wanted to go Moishe was given the task. Moishe only spoke Hebrew and the Pope did not so it was agreed that there would be a silent debate. When the day of the debate came they went to St. Peter's Square.
The Pope waved his hand around his head. Moishe pointed firmly at the ground.
The Pope held up three fingers. Moishe held up his middle finger.
The crowd started to complain but the Pope thoughtfully waved them to be quiet. He took out a bottle of wine and a wafer and held them up. Moishe took out an apple and held it up.
To the peoples' surprise, the Pope announced, "I concede. This man is too good. The Jews can stay."
Later that day, the Pope was asked what the debate had meant.
He explained, "First, I showed him the Heavens, to show that God is everywhere. He pointed at the ground to signify that God is right here with us."
He continued, "I showed him three fingers, for the Trinity. He reminded me that there is One God common to both our religions."
The Pope concluded, "I showed him wine and a wafer, for God's forgiveness. With an apple, he showed me original sin. The man was a master of silent debate."
Back at the synagogue, the leaders asked Moishe what happened. He said, "It was all nonsense, really. First, he told me that this whole town would be free of Jews. I told him where he could go and that we were staying right here."
Moishe continued, "Then, he told me we had three days to get out. I told him just what I thought of that proposal."
An older woman asked, "But what about the part at the end?"
"That?" said Moishe with a shrug, "Well, I saw him take out his lunch so I took out mine."
---o0o---
Shaggy Dog Story No. 8: The conductor
The Conductor
The world's best and most famous conductor makes a small mistake while conducting the New York Symphony Orchestra. The audience doesn't notice, the orchestra didn't notice either, but he knew he'd made the mistake and decided that he should retire. Once the performance had finished, he turned and faced the audience and said "Ladies and Gentleman, this is my last performance as a world class conductor. I'm now announcing my retirement."
After a few minutes silence from the shocked audience, and orchestra too, he was greeted with boos and hisses. He walked from the stage, only to be met by his manager, standing in between two gorilla-sized bodyguards. "Oh no you don't", his manager said, "you're not retiring."
Forced backed to work by his manager, he endured week after week of conducting he no longer wanted to do. While lying in bed one night with his wife of many years he turned to her and said "Dear, would you be able to get me a small hand-gun?" "Yes dear", she said, and he rolled over and went to sleep.
Sure enough, at his next performance, the conductor began with the small hand-gun concealed in the his jacket. Once the concert had finished he turned to the audience and said "I'm announcing my retirement for the second time. This is my last performance."
The tuba player from the orchestra stood up and shouted "You can't be serious!" The conductor whipped out his hand-gun and shot the tuba player dead. It wasn't long before the police arrived and the conductor was taken away.
Days later, the conductor was taken to court. "How do you plead to the charge of first-degree murder?", the judge inquired. "Guilty your honour", the conductor replied. "Do you realize that the sentence for first degree murder in this state is death by electrocution?", the judge added. The conductor thought for a moment but came to the conclusion that death would surely be better than continuing on like he was. "Yes, your honour", the conductor said.
While being strapped into the electric chair, one of the guards came to the conductor and said, "You may have one last request before we terminate your life. What would you like?" After pondering for a few seconds the conductor replied, "A silver platter with a dozen bananas." His request was granted and the conductor hastily ate the bananas. The room was emptied and the switch was flicked. The conductor's hair stood on end but he survived! As one guard was about to the flick the switch again, he was stopped. "He survived the chair and the law says we have to let him go."
The conductor left the building only to be greeted by his manager and the two gorilla-sized bodyguards. "Back to work", his manager said. More weeks of forced conducting went by. Lying in bed again one night with wife he asked, "Dear, could you get me a grenade?" "Yes dear", she replied.
At his next performance the conductor waited until the end of the concert, with the grenade tucked neatly in his undies. "For the third time, I'm announcing my retirement!", he yelled. The conductor took out the grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it into the audience. The grenade exploded, killing 23 members of the crowd. The police arrived and he was taken away again.
"You again?", the judge asked. "I thought I'd sentenced you to death not long ago?" The conductor shrugged. "Ok, how do you plead to 23 counts of first degree murder?", the judge said. "Guilty to all counts", the conductor replied.
While the settings were changed to triple the voltage of the current going to the chair, the conductor was granted another last request. "A silver platter with 2 dozen bananas", was his answer. He hastily devoured the bananas, the room was evacuated, and the switch was flicked. It appeared that they'd manage to kill him this time, but their fears were realised when the conductor regained consciousness as they were about to remove his body. His manager and the two gorilla-sized bodyguards were waiting for him and he left the building. "Back to work."
The weeks dragged on and the conductor had had all that he could take. "Dear, could you get me a missile launcher?", he asked his wife as they lay in bed. "Yes dear", she replied.
It was all too much for the conductor and he didn't even wait for the concert to start. "Damn you all!" he screamed. He launched a missile into the New York Symphony Orchestra, killing all 190 odd members. The army was called in this time and he was dragged away.
"You again!?! You're supposed to be DEAD!", the judge roared. The conductor just shrugged.
"May I ask how you plead for 190 counts of first degree murder?" "Guilty as sin!", the conductor screamed.
"The $@%*&$ deserved it!" The conductor was hauled away.
A public announcement was issued to all local residents warning that there would be a short cut in the power. Meanwhile, the city's electrical engineers were busy re-routing all the electricity they could into the electric chair. Once again, the conductor was granted a last request.
"Three dozen bananas on a silver platter", he said.
He hastily devoured the bananas, the building was completely vacated, and the electric chair was activated by remote control from some 2 kilometres away.
The building exploded, reducing it to rubble. They fished through the ruins to find the conductor's ruined body. His funeral was held some days later. As the casket was being lowered into the grave there was a knock on the coffin lid. Women fainted as the conductor crawled out of coffin - alive!
He was taken to a large press conference. One reporter stood up and asked "You've survived three visits to the electric chair. How did you do it?"
"I've tried telling people before", he said. "I'm just a bad conductor."
---o0o---
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
[in Just-] (spring) by e.e. cummings
[in Just-]
by e.e. cummings
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame baloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed
baloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
---o0o---
Drawing: Why not?
By Jack Brummet
[8"x10" hand-done drawing digitized & colored in Photoshop]
[8"x10" hand-done drawing digitized & colored in Photoshop]
---o0o---
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