Category Archives: Oh shit

My winnings

Nope.  Not the lottery, alas.  Although I really should have won that $1.6 billion MegaMillions.  Or even the $750 million Powerball. I had plans for that money.  What will I do when the bills for the things I bought expecting to be dripping in riches come in?

Still, I will be able to pay a few of them.  Because I am about to collect a reward.

Yup. Me.

ONE. THOUSAND. SMACKERS!

The American Society of Gastroenterology donated the money.  Already that pegs me as the recipient.  I have been keeping gastroenterologists in the money for decades.

But this reward is for the return of a giant, inflatable, orange colon.  Of course I know where it is.  If you think about it, you do too.

Inflatable colon

Photo credit

It isn’t hard to figure out — where do you think you can find something orange, inflated, and full of shit?  It’s at the White House, of course.  1700 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, Washington, DC.

Resist - USA Today

Photo credit:  USA Today.

That money is MINE!

 

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You didn’t think I would let you go without reminding you to get your tuckuss to the polls on or before November 6 (depending on your state’s laws, natch).  Election 2018 is vital. We need a check on the occupant of the White House, now more than ever.  It’s not going to come from the Supreme Court.  It can only come from the House of Representatives.

So vote like your life, your healthcare, and the honor of your country depends on it.

Because it does.

 

 

 

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Take the Long Way Home

Some things never change.

“That boy was NEVER where he was supposed to be!” That was Mom’s mantra whenever telling her favorite stories of our childhood.  Invariably they involved Bob. (It sucks to be a late entry into a big family.)

“People talk about the ‘terrible twos!” she’d say.  “Well Bob was “a terrible two” for five years!”

Everybody agreed that Bob was quite a handful.

If you believe the stories, even before he could walk, Bob could escape:

  • His crib
  • His room
  • The house

He would leave the house, and appear at local businesses in his jammies.  He went to the local bakery where he was given donuts, at the local restaurants where he was given pancakes, and at the homes of relatives who lived in the neighborhood.  Usually before they had started their day.  He was a friendly little tike.  Or else he was hungry.

“I’m sure the whole neighborhood thought I was starving that kid!” Mom laughed. “I was mortified, and terrified that somebody would call the police on me for neglecting my son.”

Well, somethings never change.

Bob, after his death, escaped. And it cracked me up.

Bob was supposed to be sent to one funeral home, but he was sent to a different one.  It took nearly 24 hours to get him to the correct place.

I love the idea that Bob wandered around town, one last time.  I hope someone gave him a donut.

Some things never change.

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A Ruse?

Our kids need to get out more.

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My Patriotic Duty

In spite of the fact that I have been AWOL for quite some time, I will not let my countrymen and countrywomen down.  I am aware of my patriotic duty.

And I will fulfill it.  Or fill the pot with it.

The Washington Post today ran an article about the Trumps’ request to borrow a painting from the Guggenheim Museum in New York City.  The painting they requested is a Van Gogh.  I can say, that I wouldn’t mind having private access to a Van Gogh, myself.  Especially if I had already been exposed has trying to pass off a fake Renoir as a real one.

Anyway, here’s the painting they requested for the White House residence:

Landscape with snow

Instead, they offered an alternative:

The curator’s alternative: an 18-karat, fully functioning, solid gold toilet — an interactive work titled “America” that critics have described as pointed satire aimed at the excess of wealth in this country.

For a year, the Guggenheim had exhibited “America” — the creation of contemporary artist Maurizio Cattelan — in a public restroom on the museum’s fifth floor for visitors to use.

But the exhibit was over and the toilet was available “should the President and First Lady have any interest in installing it in the White House,” Spector wrote in an email obtained by The Washington Post.

The artist “would like to offer it to the White House for a long-term loan,” wrote Spector, who has been critical of Trump. “It is, of course, extremely valuable and somewhat fragile, but we would provide all the instructions for its installation and care.”

My friend Mark, at Exile on Pain Street, wrote about his personal experience with this, ahh, exhibit, a while back.  But I couldn’t find the link.

No word on whether the Donald will accept the loan.

***

I just thought you needed to know about this.

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A Royal Flush

It’s hard to think of Switzerland without thinking about money.

After all, that’s where I personally hide my ill-gotten gains; isn’t it where you stored yours?  Zurich is flush with cash — but it’s nothing to Geneva, home to private banking with a twist.

Beau-Rivages

Above is a picture of my favorite Geneva hotel.  Oh, no, I never stayed there.  But it is conveniently located on the waterfront in Geneva, and it has the most delightful bathrooms in the lobby.   It’s like hitting the jackpot of potties.

But in all of the times I slipped in there to use the facilities, I never once got any money there.  After the article I just read, I gotta say, I was gypped.  Cheated. Scammed.

Maybe I should have gone to a restaurant for my pitt stop.

Because three different restaurants in the financial district of Geneva had their toilets stopped up with €500 notes, each of which is worth about $600.  Yup.  It’s true.

Geneva toilets flush with cash

It seems that they were flushed down a toilet and, well, what came up would make Jed Clampett happy.

Me?  I would have loved to get something back for my years of running to the bathroom.  I didn’t.  So I’m pissed.

 

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