Poor February, a meager, nearly scrawny month of the year. It’s barely hanging on to month-dom. Let’s do something for weedy February, something awesome, something significant, something majorly fun, so February gets to enjoy our active brain-time for at least one year. Let me know what you decide to do if you join this program to Immortalize February.
Vol. 222 No. 015
I know, it’s amazing, it’s freaky, it’s unbelievable, yet it’s here and we must accept it, and shudder --- 2018 --- Yes, you read the numbers right, it’s nearly to the 2020’s, nearly a hundred years since the 1920’s. And what do the 1920’s make you think of? Dancing the Charleston, short skirts, clever stockings, bobbed hair, everyone drinking their brains out and smoking their lungs into pulpy gray yuck? Women led the way – it was a time of wonderful expression of freedom and this is what it looked like and danced like and cut its hair like – (alas, smoked like). As for the men -- ‘hey, it’s really sweet to look at a woman’s legs and not be thought a perv.’ Remember before WWI, women wore corsets, petticoats and dresses brushing the ground. And they never smoked and they tippled in private. What will happen when the clock turns to 2020? My prediction is there will be a complete resurgence of everything from the 1920’s, including clothes, dances, hair styles, speak easies. And the media, the fashionistas, movies and books, advertising, etc., will be portraying the roaring twenties and you and I will eagerly embrace any and all things roaring.
Vol. 188 Number 122
Imagine, 100,000 presents under a big Hungarian pine tree (I suppose the tree could be Romanian or French). So many presents it sort of makes the tree bulge out, and 99% of the presents have kids' names on them. Now picture a herd of sugar-laden, off-the-wall excited kiddos racing toward that tree and its big bulge, being chased by parents who are sugar-laden as well (maybe with an added shot of Granny's whiskey) and, to put it right out there – exhausted.
Vol. 449 No. 117
Have we reached the speed of light yet? I mean this time next week it’s chomping down on a turkey leg (not! only breast), wallowing in the cornbread and sausage dressing, the marshmallow-soaked sweet potatoes – sorry, got to stop, my thighs are pulsing.
Vol. 343 Number 127
I’m sorry to be the one to break this to many of you, but it’s now Fall, very nearly Halloween, and time to pull out the long johns or the short johns, depending. Who amongst you believe time is relative? How about fleeting? How about fickle?
Parents, grandparents, finally you’ve got the kiddos back to school. The house is suddenly empty. And clean. Football season (pro and college) is about to start, so that’s a big positive, but really, not enough. So after you exercise your brains out, what will you do with yourself? I have a rather fabulous suggestion: snuggle into an easy chair, put your feet up, gently place a nice glass of something exciting at your elbow and open a good book that just happens to be titled ENIGMA