Friday, September 23, 2016

New Friendly Fort

Hello All:
The weekend is here. And what better way to kick back and relax than to add the entire Mapleview series (Kindle format) for just 99 cents each book? The promotion is running from today until next Thursday at 11:59 PM. Don't miss out! Be sure to take advantage of this deal before it ends.
"A new Friendly Fort?"--you might ask. "What's a Friendly Fort?"
I discuss this in today's featured writing.
Have a great weekend!
The New Friendly Fort
Commissioned and Consecrated
Autumn Equinox 2016,
New Friendly Fort
There's a new Friendly Fort in the Chicago land area. If you've been following the blog for a while, then you probably remember me making mention of a Friendly Fort last year during the week long celebration of Halloween. (Yes, the 2016 edition is currently in the works for those wondering.)
But back to the mention of the Friendly Fort. You can see the discussion I made of the place by reading the BLOG POST. It's a very fascinating place.
But why should I want to make a "new" Friendly Fort?
Well, I spent a lot of time thinking about this prospect. You see, I recently found a region of forest, complete with creek and surrounding stone that reminded me very much like the legendary Friendly Fort of Cook County Forest Preserves. Walking there in the late afternoon was like a flashback for me. I really felt like I was visiting the Friendly Fort. At some point I said to myself, "This is the new Friendly Fort."
"New Friendly Fort?" I challenged myself. "What's wrong with the original?"
Well, quite frankly, the original no longer exists. Once upon a time the original was a beautiful place. But after twenty years, it is now in ruins. Aside from that, it's nearly impossible to reach the original Friendly Fort without trespassing on private property. One would have to hike a few miles through forest to finally reach it. The convenient shortcut is owned by a local organization. For this matter, I haven't been there in almost a year. I doubt I will ever return.
A "new" Friendly Fort isn't such a bad idea, considering what was cited in the above paragraphs. But what gives me the authority to commission a new one?
Well, nobody remembers the original Friendly Fort. People I've talked to who once visited it in their teens back in the 1980s have no idea as to what I might be referring to. My brother remembers it, but he doesn't remember how to get there. It was my daughter and I who went on a lengthy adventure last year just to find it so I can have photos of the place for you.
As for my daughter, she agrees that it is time for a new Friendly Fort. And so on Autumn Equinox of 2016 at Sunrise, the new Friendly Fort was commissioned and consecrated. This moment was recorded by way of photograph as seen above.
Friendly Forts are nothing more than small bodies of water like a river or creek with surrounding platforms such as flagstone to stand on. Considered sacred, they are meeting places where people can join for prayer, meditation magick and various rituals. The water serves as an excellent amplifier and has magickal properties during these ceremonies. If you and your friends wish to have a Friendly Fort of your own, you can easily designate a special place in the forest or in the wilderness. The only requirement is a small body of water where people can stand around.

Friday, September 16, 2016

How to Pick Up Women on the Street

Hello All:
The weekend is here. And if you are single, you might have in mind to pick up some woman on the street for a little late night company.
Well here's a guide that might help you how to it.
Have a great weekend!
How to Pick Up Women on the Street
The story I'm about to tell will hopefully teach you how to pick up women on the street. And don't get this confused with picking up prostitutes! No, I mean picking up actual women who need casual sex and are out looking for it with no strings attached. But let me first warn you; I don't know, entirely, if these tricks will work in modern times. You see, back in the day it was a little easier to pick women up on the street because women played the game. Today if you see a woman on the street, she wouldn't dare consider making eye contact with a stranger or, even worse, talking to one.  You see, she has her nose buried in her phone.
And what is she checking on her phone? What might be so important instead of letting you pick her up?
Well, she's posted naked pictures of herself on Flickr or Instragram, and needs to see if she's gotten any new likes or comments from strangers. So if you can find a way around this modern-day obstacle of women living out their imaginary sex lives on the Internet, you might be able to employ these old tricks that were used back in the day.
It was a late Friday night out in the city where I had left a popular bar and made my way back to my car in a public parking garage. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an intriguing woman—maybe in her late twenties—just casually strolling the parking garage.
Now this I had to check out! She was in the direction of where I had to go to exit the garage, so I was sure to drive nice and slow while nearing her. And she wasn't bad at all! She had long, blond hair and pretty, blue eyes. She wore tight denim shorts and a sleeveless shirt (it was a hot summer night, so she was dressed appropriately). With what was exposed, I could see she had a nice pair of legs. And she clearly was not wearing a bra which I later confirmed that night when lifting her shirt off.
I already had the windows rolled down in my car. I slowly drove over and yelled out to her through the passenger side window. "Hey, what's going on?"
"Nothing much..." she simply said.
"Yeah?" I challenged. "Just standing in a parking garage?"
"I'm just waiting for someone." she answered.
"Just waiting for someone?" I repeated. "Maybe you're waiting for me. Is that it?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Well get in!" I encouraged.
At this point, I could tell she was hesitant. I was, after all, a stranger and safety might have been a concern. But she was also terribly horny and in desperate need of something.
"Come on!" I urged. "What are you waiting for? Let's move before they raise the parking rate!"
At that point, she opened the passenger side door of my car and sat in.
Where was I heading?—you might ask?
Well, where do you think? I had a very horny and very nervous woman sitting in the passenger seat of my car who was at risk of getting out at the next traffic light. While making small talk about how the evening went, I raced onto the freeway and made my home. At some point during the ride, she started to relax, and seemed to look forward to finally getting what she needed.
No words were said once we arrived at my place and walked up the sidewalk to the front door. We both knew what was about to happen. I guess maybe there was a sense of awkwardness in those moments.
And then I led her into the front room of the house where she took a seat on the sofa. Now it's important for young men to understand that this particular stage of the "pick up" is very crucial. You see, she knows what she wants. She knows why she came home with you. But if you put any moves on her, she's going to get all crazy and think you're trying to take advantage of her. Then you risk having her run out of the house to never see her again.
The solution?—you might ask?
Well, I sat right down next to her and didn't say a word. I only stared at her. I carefully watched her, watched every move on her face.
It didn't take long for this to make her feel uncomfortable. It's when she finally spoke up, "Look... what's your game? What are you trying to do? I came home with you tonight, and now you're... what are you trying to put me to shame?"
And that's exactly what I wanted her to do. I wanted her to bring up the fact that she came home with me, but we were doing nothing. When she finally cited this, it gave me a chance to prove that I was actually a really nice guy and could be trusted. I argued, "Slow... slow, baby. Don't go so fast. What's your rush? Don't you think that love can last?"
But this made her do something unexpected. This mention of love caused her to turn outraged. She jumped out of her seat and started shouting, "Love??? What are you talking about??? Now you're trying to trick me in love???"
I looked at her for a second or two and could see that she was a frazzled, emotional wreck—not to mention terribly horny. And although her reaction was most unexpected, I realized that it put her exactly where I wanted her. I was now the one who was in control, and would make everything all better for her. I slowly stood up and reassured her, "Hey, come on now. It's all right... It's all right, now..." I put my arms around her and embraced her. "Everything's alright... It's alright, now..."
And that's all it takes to pick up women on the street and bring them home.
What? You don't believe me?
Well men have been using this technique for years. It's so successful that they even made a song about it to help men remember the stages of the pickup. Check it out:

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

The Good Songs

Hello All:
I know we haven't heard much, lately, about him; but the Cableman is still around. Here's a brand new story in which he chats with a customer about the 'good songs'.
The Good Songs
It wasn't a terribly involved work order for the Cableman; simply pay a visit to one of the apartment units at the end of town, and do what is referred to as a "reconnect" for the new tenant who moved in. Such a job is called "reconnect" because no wiring needs to be added; everything had been previously installed the first time. The Cableman probably disconnected the cable outside in the utility box when the previous tenant moved out.
Sure enough, as the Cableman opened the utility box, he could see his own writing on the black tag with the apartment unit, 1A, written on it; black to indicate that the cable was supposed to be disconnected if there were ever a question.
"This should be easy..." commented the Cableman to himself as he walked up to the main entry door of the apartment building. He pressed the doorbell for 1A.
A second later, the "buzz" was heard which was cue for the Cableman to enter. Once inside, a “burnout” opened the door to unit 1A and greeted with a stoned-stupid smile, "…hey...". He had a lit cigarette in his hand, and the Cableman hates cigarette smoke. From the looks of it, the customer was terminally stoned—not from just recently smoking weed, but because he had done it so much in his life that he now had permanently altered brain cells.
"Hi, I'm here to hook up your cable." acknowledged the Cableman.
"Right this way." signaled the customer while walking back into the apartment.
Inside the place reeked of burned food—maybe over-cooked pizza in the oven—and cigarette smoke. Again, the Cableman hates cigarettes. Oh, but there was one good thing about the customer's living space. The song, 'lunatic fringe' by Red Rider was playing on an old stereo in the family room. The Cableman always liked that song.
"Okay, where's the TV at?" asked the Cableman.
The customer pointed to the opposite wall of the stereo. "Over there. I think it's cable ready." Then he asked, "Is my music bothering you?"
"No, Red Rider is fine with me." reassured the Cableman.
"You mean you like 'lunatic fringe'?" asked the customer with such a surprise.
"Yeah, who doesn't?" cited the Cableman upon turning on the TV. He fumbled through the remote and adjusted the settings so that it would receive cable signal. Then he selected scan. The TV began saving channels, indicator that it was successfully connected to cable service.
"Hey..." called out the customer. "Do you know this song is about the murder of John Lennon?"
"That's a fallacy." corrected the Cableman. "It's actually about modern-day racism and hatred against Jews... well modern-day if it were the 1970s/80s."
"Are you sure?" challenged the customer.
"Absolutely!" answered the Cableman. "The lyrics come right out and say it. It takes the listener back to Nazi Germany when Jews were hunted down." As the TV continued to scan the channels, the Cableman recited some of the lyrics to 'lunatic fringe'. "I know you're out there... you're in hiding... This is open season, but you won't get too far, cause you gotta blame someone for your own confusion." By then it was the end of the song and the European emergency siren was heard. "And hear the sirens?" concluded the Cableman. "That's the Nazis coming after the Jews."
"Whoa!" exclaimed the customer. "Dude, you just freaked me out! I can totally see it!"
“Interesting thing…” continued to the Cableman. “The reason why people think ‘lunatic fringe’ is about the murder of John Lennon is because the song was recorded on the very night that John Lennon was murdered.
“Really???” exclaimed the customer.
“Yup.” affirmed the Cableman. “That explains the fallacy associated with this song.”
The TV was reaching the end of the channel search which meant that the Cableman had to go back to concentrating on his work. He now had to check the picture quality to ensure that all was well. During this time the song on the customer's stereo changed to 'lay down Sally' by Eric Clapton.
"Oh, what the fuck is this shit?" complained the customer.
The Cableman overheard the griping as well as the profanity and thought that the customer was complaining about the less than desirable picture quality. "Don't worry, I can fix that." he reassured.
"No, the song!" corrected the customer. "This song sucks! How can they play something so cool like 'lunatic fringe', and then go to this shit?"
"Sorry, I thought you were talking about the picture.” answered the Cableman. “But I'm going to have to fix this for you. It's probably a rusty fitting outside. As for the song, I know what you mean. It was never my favorite. But that's what you get with variety."
"You know what they need?" began the customer.
The Cableman took a deep breath and reminded himself that sometimes it's necessary to socialize with the customer. "What?" he asked.
"They need a station that plays nothing but the good songs... you know, the good songs!"
"I have a lot of songs in my collection." revealed the Cableman. "Which ones are the good ones?"
"Oh come-on, man!" argued the customer. "Don't tell me you know what the good songs are! You know... the good songs!—like 'lunatic fringe', or songs by Van Halen and Ozzy Osbourne... you know, the good songs!"
"Oh, I get it now." answered the Cableman. "You like all that hard rock."
"Yeah!" exclaimed the customer.
"Like Judas Priest?" suggested the Cableman.
"Fuck yeah!" exclaimed the customer.
"Or how about Billy Ido?l—'white wedding'?"
"There you go!" agreed the customer.
The Cableman speculated for a second, "Well, it's a radio station that you're listening to. Some of the people out there like this song by Eric Clapton, so they have to play it." Then he excused himself, "I'll be right back. Let me check the connections outside."
Three minutes later the Cableman returned to the apartment unit. "Okay, I noticed the cable fitting was a bit rusty, so I changed it." he informed. Then he paused. There was no longer any music playing. "What happened to the music?" he asked
The customer rolled his eyes in disgust, "They started playing ‘rocket man’ by Elton John.
"Not a good day with the radio for you." cited the Cableman. "But maybe your picture quality can be better. The Cableman flipped through the stations to verify that all was well.
Suddenly, the customer started singing, "I want my... I want my MTV..."
The Cableman sighed to himself. "Almost out of here." he thought.
"I want my MTV..." the customer continued to chant.
"You actually have that in your channel lineup." interrupted the Cableman in hopes that the customer would quit singing. But don't expect any music videos. They stopped doing that years ago."
"Oh, I know!" answered the customer. "They suck, now. But the song from Dire Straits is cool."
"Another one of my favorites." agreed the Cableman while reaching for his clipboard. "You're all done. If you need anything else, just call our office."
But before the Cableman could leave, the burnout customer had plenty more to say. He signed the paperwork and then added, "Hey, you know that station that I want that plays nothing but the good songs?”
“Yeah…?” affirmed the Cableman.
 “It actually existed once upon a time. Right when I started summer break after graduating high school, a radio station out in Detroit went on the air and celebrated with the listeners by playing non-stop music—commercial free—for six weeks. And it was all the good song just like we like. It was nothing but Ozzy, Van Halen, Aerosmith, The Who—all the good songs. Me and my buddies, we pooled together all of our money from graduation cards—you know, the ones that your family members give with money in it—and we bought tons of weed, acid, ‘shrooms, and I don't even know how much beer and liquor. For the entire six weeks we just partied our asses off, nonstop, while listening to this radio station. I don't even remember what station it was. But it was great! We got into car accidents from being so fucked up and had to go to the hospital a couple times. One of my buddies went to jail for a few days. But when he got out, he just continued partying with us. I think one of my buddies actually died in those six weeks, too.”
“Eww…” remarked the Cableman.
“And get this!” continued the customer. “My old man had a job lined up for me at some factory that I was supposed to start around the middle of July. My starting day was the very day that the radio station started playing commercials. And ironically, all of our drugs had been used up. I just went into work that morning all sober and feeling like shit. But I was so fucked up from partying for six weeks that I couldn't even think straight. And all I could do was stand there in front of my boss and say, 'uhhhhh...'.
“Like you did this morning at the door when you said, ‘…hey…’?” suggested the Cableman.
The customer laughed and conclude his story, “I was fired after two days because I couldn't work."
"Did you ever come down after those six weeks of partying?" asked the Cableman.
"Probably not..." answered the customer.
The Cableman laughed while walking out the apartment door, "So you're a real modern day Rip Van Winkle!"
The End!

Monday, September 12, 2016

Soap In Your Eyes

Hello All:
Back to work/school after what was hopefully a nice weekend for you; we start Monday with a peculiar short story.
Soap In Your Eyes
Ask any kid what his or her favorite day of the week is, and he or she will surely answer Saturday.
Why Saturday? Why not Friday, Sunday, or Monday?
Well, Saturday is that one and only day of the week which is 100 percent isolated from the school week. Monday sucks for the obvious reason that an entire week of school is ahead. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday aren't much better; only closer to Saturday. Friday does bring some sense of hope that the final bell for the day will allow leaving school for the next couple of days. But Friday does include that unpleasant thing of having to be in school. And then there is Saturday, the one day in which a kid can sleep in and then enjoy the day without the bother of having to go to school. He or she can even put off doing homework. As for Sunday, it's okay. The problem with this day is the fact that a kid is occasionally reminded of having to go back to school on Monday.
For Eric it was a Saturday morning, just a bit past seven o'clock. He rolled over and took notice of the early morning sun shining through his window. But he was in no hurry to get out of bed. Eric felt like he could lay there and doze off for about another hour or so for some dreaming. It was his much earned right as a kid to do this, being that the stupid alarm would wake him up on Monday through Friday.
Eric closed his eyes, and lay there while listening to the outside sounds of trees rustling in the gentle, early morning wind. A few blocks away, someone was mowing their lawn--nothing terribly noisy to distract Eric from falling back to sleep.
But then there were the sounds of soft, sneaky footsteps entering the bedroom, followed by the unavoidable creek on the floor. Yes, someone was in Eric's bedroom; probably his jerk older brother, Martin.
Perhaps if Eric simply lay there and pretend to be sound asleep, his brother would go away.
The footsteps came closer and closer until a presence could be felt very close to the bed. Eric could sense that whoever was near did their best to keep from laughing. And then there was the peculiar scent of popcorn and cotton candy as-if whoever it was had been at a circus or carnival. What was Martin doing? Did he go to a carnival on Friday night?
Thumbs were smashed into Eric's closed eyes, with some sort of lotion or gel rubbed in.
"Quit it! You jerk!" shouted Eric. He immediately opened his eyes.
But it wasn't Eric's older brother Martin who stood over the bed. Rather, it was an obnoxious clown with painted face and large, red rose. It wore a ridiculous outfit of loud colors. "Smile! There's soap in your eyes!" called out the clown.
And that's the last thing poor Eric remembered seeing that morning. He had to close his from the painful sting brought on by the soap running in. Stupid clown! And if that weren't enough, Eric had to fight the clown off, blind, as he continued rubbing soap all over his face.
The End! 

Wednesday, August 10, 2016


Hello All
Anyone who has seen the Peanuts cartoons will agree that Snoopy--pet dog of the main character, Charlie Brown--has always had an element of "coolness" to him. You see, Snoopy is so much more than a dog. He can surprise and delight the viewer by doing things that humans can do. He can walk on two feet. He can carry objects in his right and left front paws as-if they were hands. He can read, write, go to school, work in grocery stores as a checkout clerk, drive vehicles, play sports, conduct orchestras--pretty much anything. And he does these things so naturally. The only thing Snoopy cannot do is talk like humans. For this he more-or-less grunts his words the way a dog would if not barking.
But back to the "coolness" of Snoopy--a facet that Charles Schulz might have attempted to illustrate with Snoopy's Joe Cool persona. Joe Cool has made cameo appearances in various Peanuts cartoons throughout the years. Check out the You Tube video, below, in which Joe Cool is in school just doing his best to act cool. (Let the video play for some seconds as Lucy and Charlie Brown debate in the hallway about being class president.) As you will see, Snoopy puts on his Joe Cool sunglasses and hangs out at the drinking fountain. Then he goes to class.

Despite how popular Joe Cool might be, this isn't the only thing "cool" about Snoopy. Now this might be the first time the phrase has ever been used, but there is a state of being that we must all try to attain that I call "Snoopy-cool". It isn't easy, and it has nothing to do with the comical Joe Cool persona. I've actually been encouraging one of my daughters in recent weeks to be "Snoopy-cool".
So what is "Snoopy-cool"?--you might ask?
If you've ever watched your share of Peanuts cartoons, then surely you have noticed that Snoopy is the antithesis of his owner, Charlie Brown. Much of the Peanuts cartoons are about Charlie Brown and his struggle to finally reach happiness and success. But maybe he tries too hard. He seems to struggle to enjoy the simplest things.
Case in point: in the famous Charlie Brown Christmas special, Charlie Brown struggled to get into the holiday season, and couldn't even find the right Christmas tree for the school play. He bought some pathetic tree that toppled over when an ornament was placed on it.
But then we have snoopy who simply pulled out all of his holiday decorations from inside the doghouse and totally decked out his home for Christmas with lights, ornaments and all the works. And he did it so seemingly effortless--like badaboom badabing. And that's the art of "Snoopy-cool". He never really puts much thought into what needs to be done. It's as-if he puts the moment on cruise control, even goes about matters with his eyes closed like he were showing off. Whatever is happening at any given moment, Snoopy has it; he has everything under control and looks so natural while doing it. 
If Snoopy were to go to the beach, he'd carry a huge bundle of beach necessities through the sand and then plop it down, somewhere which just so happened to be the perfect spot. Then, like badaboom badabing, he'd be all set up and lying on a blanket in the sand, rubbing tanning lotion in and reaching for a soda in his picnic basket.
Be like Snoopy; be Snoopy-cool.
Keep in mind that Snoopy-cool is definitely the highest state of mind that we should try to attain. But whatever you do, don't try to be like Joe Cool--especially at the office--where you might make yourself out to be a fool.
Joe Cool at the Drinking Fountain
Joe emerged from the large office conference room on a Tuesday morning at 9:45. It was definitely a stressful conference, and he could expect more some time later.
"Ugh... I need to step outside for some fresh air." thought Joe to himself while walking down the hallway and to the main exit out to the parking lot. Upon stepping outside, he reached for his sunglasses which happened to be in the inner coat pocket of his blazer.
"In and out... In and out..." Joe thought to himself while taking a little stroll around the parking lot. "Just keep it cool..." he reminded himself.
While passing one of the windows of the office building, Joe glanced at the reflection of himself and noticed how "cool" he looked. He looked like the Peanuts character, Snoopy, as one of his personas, Joe Cool.
"That's who I need to be." Joe thought to himself. "I need to be Joe Cool." And with that, Joe started to walk cool. He strolled through the main entrance of the office building and was sure to keep his sunglasses on. He continued strolling through the lobby and over to the drinking fountain where he took a nice, cool drink of water.
"Ah!" exclaimed Joe Cool out loud. "That was nice!"
Just then, Joe Cool happened to glance over to the main entrance and noticed that one of his coworkers, Sally, had entered. She strutted through the lobby with her pretty face, high heels, sexy dress, and--wow--breasts bobbing up and down as she walked.
Joe Cool remained by the drinking fountain until Sally came near. "Hi Sally!" greeted Joe Cool with his cool sunglasses on and a big smile on his face.
"Hi Joe!" returned Sally. "What's with the sunglasses?"
"I guess I'm Joe cool." he answered while pressing the button on the drinking fountain. "You want a nice drink of water?" he offered.
Sally shrugged her shoulders, "Sure..." Then she bent over to take a drink.
Joe Cool watched in amazement as Sally remained bent down and slurped up the water with her sexy lips. "Ah, that's nice, isn't it?" asked Joe Cool. "You like slurping up all that water with your lips, don't you?"
Sally happened to glance up towards the drinking fountain button and could see that the crotch of Joe Cool's pants were quite close. The crotch was close enough that she could see his zipper. It was then that Sally stood up.
"You sure you don't want some more of that?" asked Joe Cool.
"No, I'm fine." answered Sally while strutting away in her high heels and ass twitching.
Joe Cool continued to hang around the drinking fountain. He was just being Joe Cool like he was back in school and acting cool.
Another woman, Jill, walked through the main entrance.
Joe Cool hung around the drinking fountain until Jill was close. "Hey there, Jill!" he greeted.
"Hi..." cautiously returned Jill. "Are you just hanging out around the drinking fountain?"
"Yeah, I'm Joe Cool today." he answered. "Then he pressed the button on the fountain. "You want a drink?"
Jill shrugged her shoulders, "Sure..." and then bent over.
Just like with Sally, Joe Cool watched in delight as Jill slurped up the water with her sexy lips and bent over low enough to display more than a view of cleavage.
Jill could see Joe Cool's zipper, and immediately pushed away from the fountain. "What the...?" She gave Joe Cool a weird look and walked away.
"Well let me know if you want some more." called out Joe Cool.
Jill said nothing, just went back to the office.
Moments later, Joe Cool's boss walked through the main entrance. He, too, stepped out after the meeting to get some fresh air. But what was this? His employee, Joe, was standing near the drinking fountain with sunglasses on and resting his hand against the wall.
"Are you going to have that report for me by 11:00 this morning?" asked Joe Cool's boss.
"Yes Sir!" reassured Joe Cool.
The boss gave Joe Cool a strange look, "Is it bright in here or something?"
"No, Sir, I guess I forgot to take my sunglasses off." With that Joe Cool removed his sunglasses and remained near the drinking fountain.
The boss reminded Joe Cool, "I need that by 11:00." which was actually code for, "Can you do something else besides stand by the drinking fountain?"
Joe Cool ignored it all and watched as his boss returned to the office. When he felt it was safe, Joe Cool put his sunglasses back on.
In walked Julie, a curvaceous blond who definitely dressed in such a way to show off her goods. And might I add that she was well-endowed.
"Hi Julie!" greeted Joe Cool in his sunglasses and resting his hand against the wall. "You're looking good today."
Julie stopped walking for a second and contemplated if Joe Cool meant anything inappropriate with that comment. She cautiously answered. "Thank you...?"
Joe Cool pressed the button on the drinking fountain. "You want a drink?"
Cautiously, Julie approached the drinking fountain and bent over to take a drink. Her large hanging breasts and cleavage nearly burst through her blouse as she slurped up the water with her voluptuous lips.
"Mmmmm... Ahhhhh... Isn't that good?" asked Joe Cool.
Julie looked up and could see a bulge forming in the crotch of Joe Cool's pants. He was apparently getting off on something. "What the hell???" exclaimed Julie. She stormed off with her curvaceous body
By 10:30 that morning, Joe Cool was called down to the HR office and written up on three accounts of sexual harassment.

Lesson to be learned: It's okay to be Joe Cool at work, but don't take Joe Cool too far!
The End!

Friday, August 5, 2016

Back to School

Hello All:
When I was a kid on summer break I used to hate it when I’d see the first sign of school about to resume. This usually came as an ad in the newspaper with the heading, “Back to School!” Or maybe I’d be at the store with my mother where we’d pass an aisle that had a large sign hanging from the ceiling that read, “Back to School!” A glance down the aisle revealed those God-awful school supplies that the teacher would expect us to use in the upcoming school year.
Well, it’s August which means summer vacation will end in a few weeks for all the kids. As a parent, I now like to tease my youngest daughter by pointing out these unpleasant back-to-school reminders. I might chime the words, “Back to School!” while holding up a Walmart ad with a “Back to School” sale.
Hopefully your kids won’t have a teacher like the main character in today’s featured writing. Have a great weekend. Enjoy it while it lasts… before the kids go back to school!
Back to School
There are two recesses at Valley Grammar School. Well, actually in the kids' world, there are three if you count arriving at school for the day and playing on the playground before class begins. Then the kids must endure a couple hours of sitting in their desks and learning lessons from the teacher who stands at the chalkboard. At ten o'clock they are permitted to eat a small snack at their desks in an allotted time frame of five minutes before morning recess begins. Then the kids rush out for ten minutes for some much needed play.
It was a Tuesday morning around quarter to eleven, about a half hour after recess. Every morning at this time, Mrs. Lynch's first grade class did an exercise of reading a short story from the reading text book. Each student was to take a turn reading out loud—maybe a few sentences or so from the book—until the story was complete.
"Come-on Brian, pronounce the word!" demanded Mrs. Lynch. She was growing impatient with students like him. He was slow with poor reading skills.
"S... S... So... W... W... W... H...O" Bryan struggled through every word.
"Bryan, is that all you can do?" complained Mrs. Lynch. "You can't even read a simple phrase, 'so who...?'" Then she mocked poor Bryan in such a way to make him appear to be a stupid retard. "This is you! S... S... O.... Uh... Hu... S." She was sure to make a dopey look on her face. "I mean what's so hard about it?"
Mrs. Lynch nosily exhaled and ordered little Susan to continue.
"so who took the cookie from the cookie jar?" Susan read. Although read perfectly, little Susan was shy and bashful. She was terribly soft-spoken and it was difficult to hear her.
Mrs. Lynch proceeded to mock Susan. "You sound like a little mouse on its dying breath." Then she whispered softly like little Susan, "so who took the cookie from the cookie jar?" While doing so, she made a sad face which clearly exhibited the way Susan read.
The entire classroom laughed.
Heather, perhaps the smartest kid in class and seemingly the teacher's pet chimed in, "I like it when you imitate people. It keeps everyone laughing."
"Oh really?" challenged Mrs. Lynch. "Here let me impersonate you." Mrs. Lynch proceeded to skip across the front of the room over to the teacher's desk. "Good morning Mrs. Lynch." She used an exaggerated voice in a somewhat cruel tone which was aimed to mock Heather. "You have a nice dress today. You look nice. Can I be your special student... your teacher’s pet?"
All the kids in the class laughed, including Heather who clearly didn't have a problem with laughing at herself.
"You like that, huh Heather?" asked Mrs. Lynch.
Heather nodded in affirmation as her laughter calmed down.
"Well what about me?" encouraged Mrs. Lynch. "Doesn't anyone want to impersonate me?"
Heather immediately offered, "I will!" She stood up from her desk and scurried over to the blackboard where she picked up a piece of chalk. "Okay boys and girls, we need to learn how to pronounce letters correctly." Heather drew the letter R on the blackboard.
Mrs. Lynch stood some distance away and observed in silence.
"And so boys and girls, what is this letter?" asked Heather who was acting out Mrs. Lynch.
"R!" answered the entire class.
"Good!" congratulated Heather who, for some reason, was able to imitate Mrs. Lynch's voice quite well. "And how do you pronounce it?"
"RRRRRR!" answered the class. This was certainly a fun game. Mrs. Lynch wasn't such a bad teacher after all.
Heather was able to impersonate Mrs. Lynch so well that she even stretched her neck out while partly bowing to correct the students. "URRRRRRRRRR!" she answered in correction.
All the kids in the classroom laughed. Heather sounded just like Mrs. Lynch. She even exhibited the same gestures and body motion while pretending to teach the class.
But unlike the kids in the class, Mrs. Lynch was not laughing. She grew all the more silently outraged until finally speaking, "Wow, Heather! That's good! How did you learn how to do that?"
Heather smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"It looks like you've had a lot practice." pointed Mrs. Lynch. "Is this what you do during recess? You go out to the playground and mock me with all of your friends?"
The smile on Heather's face immediately went away. Now she stood at the front of the class while trying to defend herself. "But Mrs. Lynch, I was only playing. You told me to do that. I thought we were playing a fun game."
"After all that I've done for you!" shouted Mrs. Lynch. "You ungrateful, little brat!"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Lynch!" apologized Heather. "Please don't be mad."
"You really hurt my feelings by doing all of that!" explained Mrs. Lynch. "And you know what? I don't think I want you in my class anymore."
"Mrs. Lynch, no!" Heather pleaded.
"That's right! You can get out of my class and move next door to Mrs. White's class. Gather up all of your books, pencils, crayons, glue, paper—everything—from your desk."
Heather's shoulders sunk. Reluctantly, she approached her desk and opened the top.
"Take it all out!" ordered Mrs. Lynch.
In two minutes, Heather gathered everything up from her desk and stacked all of her books on top of one another. Then she placed all the supplies on top.
"Now pick all of that up and carry it over to the corner near the door." ordered Mrs. Lynch. "You can stand there and wait. I just need to talk to Mrs. White so she can find you a desk."
It was quite a lot of weight for child in first grade to carry. Heather struggled to maintain her balance while not allowing anything to fall. When finally making it to the door, Heather was ordered to turn around and face the class.
"So you don't like me, huh?" asked Mrs. Lynch.
"That's not true." sadly answered Heather.
But Mrs. Lynch wasn't buying it. "So tell me when you started to hate me so much?"
"But I don't hate you Mrs. Lynch." insisted Heather.
"Is it my dress? Don't you like my dress? Maybe you don't like my hairstyle? Or maybe my teeth aren't white enough for you?"
"You look fine." whispered Heather. Then she asked, "Mrs. Lynch?"
"What????" sharply asked Mrs. Lynch. "What do you want?????"
"Could I put my books down? These are getting really heavy and I'm getting tired."
"What, are you some kind of weakling?" charged Mrs. Lynch. "You can't hold up books for a couple of minutes. You're pathetic, Heather.—you know that? I could stand there for an hour and hold those books without any problem. So I guess I'm better than you. And you're going to make fun of me?"
By now, Heather's arms were shaking. She aimed her face to the ceiling in some effort to summon the strength to keep holding the stack of books and supplies. Remember, this was a child in first grade and she was given a terribly difficult task... actually a cruel punishment to endure.
"You disgust me!" declared Mrs. Lynch. "I'm going next door to talk to Mrs. White so I can get you out of here.
As Mrs. Lynch left the room, poor Heather began to cry. Despite how cruel her teacher was, Heather was actually fond of Mrs. Lynch. And there was just something about being evicted from her class in the middle of the year that didn't sit right with her. Aside from that, the kids in Mrs. White's class were weird. They were the losers who could never do anything right.
As always, the kids in Mrs. Lynch's class began to chatter once the teacher left the room. Would this time be real? There were a few occasions of when Mrs. Lynch became disappointed with a student and threatened to send him or her next door. But it never happened. Well this time Mrs. Lynch looked really angry. Maybe this time it would actually happen.
A minute later, Mrs. Lynch returned and sighed. "Well, Heather, I guess put your books and supplies back in your desk. Mrs. White doesn't have an empty desk for you to sit at.
Relieved, Heather walked back to her desk and nearly dropped everything onto the seat.
While Heather waited for the blood to rush back to her hands, Mrs. Lynch added a final remark, "Remember, Heather: the only reason why you are not next door is because Mrs. White doesn't have a desk. I'm really serious when I say that I don't want you in my class anymore. From now on, things are going to be different between you and me. Understand?"
"Yes..." sadly answered Heather.
And that's what happens when someone mocks Mrs. Lynch, the first grade teacher at Valley Grammar School.

The End!

Thursday, August 4, 2016

Killing Yourself to Live

Hello All:
I’ve mentioned before of how much I love the premium subscription to Spotifiy. Any time a song is in my head, I can look for it on Spotify and give a listen. Last night I was cleaning the kitchen and suddenly had an urge to listen to the song, “killing yourself to live” by English rock band, Black Sabbath. It just popped into my head and I had to give a listen.
Halfway through the song, I realized that it is truly a masterpiece. The music is colorful, vibrant and alive. The message from the lyrics is important, reminding us that sometimes in life we kill ourselves trying to fulfill our expectations. I’m not sure I agree with another message in the song that we should “smoke it and get high”. But I suppose that’s how the songwriter attempted to relay that we should relax and not worry about anything.
Be sure to give the song a listen if you never heard it. I provide the You Tube video, below. Then read today’s new short story, a new tale out of the Cableman series.

Killing Yourself to Live
Sometimes being the Cableman isn't easy, especially on those days when he is given an impossible route of installs to complete. It seems the boss doesn't understand how long it takes to complete installs as well as answer service calls. There's only so much that a cable man can do in one day.  And how the Cableman hates it when the boss gives him that “your days are numbered around here” sort of look when walking past the office after 5:00.
Days like this require a special sort of after-hours therapy which involves going home after his workout and cracking open a couple of beers while playing one of his favorite Black Sabbath CDs, Volume 4. The album is ideal for drowning one's sorrows out in rock and roll. The same can be said of many songs by Black Sabbath or simply Ozzy Osbourne.
The Cableman listened to most of the songs on the album: "wheels of confusion", "tomorrow's dream", "supernaut"... he skipped the mellow songs like "changes" and "Laguna sunrise". While listening, he reflected on his crappy day and let the bluesy sound of Black Sabbath drown all of his sorrows away. He even thought about all of his women problems: Tina who broke up with him because of her parents, Melissa who left him for another man, and Jenny Robin who really messed with his mind. He buried it all in rock and roll, one of the best medicines for a troubled mind.
Before ending his session, the Cableman went back to the first song of the album, "wheels of confusion" and played it one more time just to make sure he heard the important message. Ozzy stated at the conclusion of the song,
“So I found that life is just a game.
But you know there's never been a winner.
Try your hardest just to be a loser.
The world will still be turning when you've gone...
Yeah, when you've gone."
"Amen to that!" exclaimed the Cableman. "Why try so hard at everything?" And that was the end of the Cableman's session of drowning his sorrows in rock and roll music. He felt one hundred percent better, and forgot everything. By then he was ready for dinner, and went to the refrigerator for a nice juicy steak to put on the grill.
Across town, however was a different story. Unemployed twenty-eight-year-old Larry who lived with his grandmother spoke on the telephone with his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.
"I mean you're just not going anywhere in life." explained Larry's girlfriend, Michelle. "You don't have a job and you have no inhibitions.”
"But I love you." reminded Larry.
"That's great." answered Michelle. "But you put too much of a drain on my life. I don't want to sound mean when saying this, but you're kind of a loser. I really hoped you could at least get a job and get yourself back on your feet."
"Michelle, I've been through so much!" yelled Larry.
In the family room, Grandma listened to the one side of the conversation. She knew what this phone call was about, and shook her head in sadness. If only Larry could get his life together.
"I struggle every day to finally pull out of this." continued Larry. "You're the only thing left in this world that gives me hope."
"I understand that." answered Michelle. "But for now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to break up with you."
"No!" yelled Larry. "Please don't! Michelle, if you break up with me, I'm going to kill myself!"
"See what I mean!" pointed Michelle. "See how you bring me down? I can't take this sort of thing anymore." With that, she hung up the phone.
Larry slammed the phone down, stormed off into his bedroom and closed the door. Immediately he rummaged his collection of old records that were kept in the record case of the retro 1970s stereo. The old appliance was picked up at a garage sale when he was still in high school.
It was the album Sabbath Bloody Sabbath which caught Larry's attention, probably because he remembered the opening song, "killing yourself to live". Larry loaded the record and dropped the needle on the first track. Immediately the opening riff from the song played.
Now it should be mentioned that the opening song to Sabbath Bloody Sabbath is more of a motivational piece. It aims to remind people that we try so hard in life to gain wealth and success, only to end up killing ourselves in the process. Think of the health issues that people get after so many decades of chasing the horizon of material happiness. They die early, hence the meaning of the message, "killing yourself to live". The song was not intended to encourage people to commit suicide.
Larry, however, had a different interpretation. He reached up to the top shelf of his bedroom closet for a shotgun. It was already loaded in case ever needed. "So she wants to break up with me? Well I guess I have nothing left."
Through the speakers, Ozzy tried to reason with Larry:
"Just take a look around you what do you see
Pain, suffering, and misery
It's not the way that the world was meant
It's a pity you don't understand
Killing yourself to live...
Killing yourself to live..."
Larry turned the volume of the 1970s stereo up, and sat on the ground against the speaker. He just sat there for a while with the shotgun in hand. And whenever needed, Larry would reach over and pick up the needle to play the song over again. Eventually, he hoped, the song would give him the necessary motivation to finally pull the trigger.
By 11:30 in the evening, Larry had yet to commit suicide. But the song "killing yourself to live" continued to play over and over again.
Grandma really wanted to go to bed for the night, and couldn't sleep with all that racket coming from Larry's bedroom. She had to be up early the following morning to have someone from the cable company come over and look at her TV picture. "Larry!" she called out. "Larry, turn that noise down! It's time for bed!" She knocked and pounded; even tried to open the door herself, but it was locked.
Inside, Larry sat on the floor with the barrel of the shotgun pointed in his mouth. It would only be a matter of time before he finally pulled the trigger.
Frustrated, Grandma groaned and head off to bed for the evening. She would put the pillows over her head and try to drown out the noise from Larry's bedroom. It wasn't until 3:30 AM that she managed to fall asleep.
By 7:30 the following morning, Grandma woke up and could hear that the noise continued from Larry's bedroom. By now, she was able to recognize a pattern and realize that he was playing the same song over and over again.
"What in the world is wrong with him?" asked Grandma out loud. “Did he lose his mind?" She stormed down the hallway and over to Larry's bedroom door where she pounded it with her fists. "Larry!" she yelled. "Come on, now! That's enough! What happened? Did your girlfriend break up with you? That's okay, life has to go on."
The guitars screamed in answer. Larry wasn't ready to come out.
"Come-on Larry!" yelled Grandma. "I have the cable company coming in a half an hour. You're not going to make all that racket while they're here, are you?"
There was still no answer from Larry. All poor Grandma could do was change into a fresh pair of clothes, put her dentures in and wait by the door for the cable company to arrive.
By 8:15 AM, a cable van pulled up near the house and parked by curb. It was the Cableman who exited. Grandma watched as he put a safety cone out in the street and then clicked his way up the driveway in his steel-toed work boots. He was actually a handsome man. Too bad Larry couldn't be more like him.
"Well hello!" shouted Grandma upon opening the screen door.
"Hi, I'm here to answer a call for poor picture quality?" shouted the Cableman in return.
As the Cableman stood in the foyer, Grandma apologized, "I'm so sorry for all that racket. My grandson just broke up with his girlfriend, and he's been playing that all night. It's the same song over and over again. I can't get him to come out.
The Cableman immediately recognized the song. "Well that's 'killing yourself to live' by Black Sabbath."
"You mean to tell me you know that song?" asked Grandma so surprised.
"Yes I do." affirmed the Cableman. "And he's been playing it all night long?"
"Yes." answered Grandma. "I tried to go in his room, but the door is locked.”
The Cableman continued to probe, "And you say your grandson broke up with his girlfriend?"
"Yesterday afternoon." informed Grandma.
"Well, Ma'am, I don't like the sound of that." declared the Cableman. "Would you like me to go in there and check on him?"
"Oh, please do!" encouraged Grandma.
The Cableman walked over to Larry's bedroom door and knocked. "Hello??? This is the cable company!" He tried to turn the knob; but just as Grandma mentioned, the door was locked.
Grandma was standing nearby. Because of this the Cableman warned, "Ma'am, you might want to look away. This might not be pretty."
Once Grandma walked into the other room, the Cableman executed a powerful sidekick to the bedroom door which tore the frame as the door swung open.
There on the floor sat emotionally distraught Larry against the speaker of the stereo with the barrel of the shotgun pointed in his mouth. His body was shaking tremendously. The trigger of the shotgun was about halfway pulled.
"Hey, man!" shouted the Cableman while rushing in. "What are you doing?"
The lyrics from Ozzy screamed through the speakers,
“I'm telling you
Believe in me
Nobody else will tell you”
The Cableman kicked the butt-end of the shot gun to the side which caused the trigger to finally pull. The barrel exploded and out projected a massive bullet which blasted a hole in the bedroom wall.
Larry's head and face were still intact. The bullet missed him. It was a close call, indeed!
Immediately, the Cableman turned the volume down—relief for Grandma. "Are you stupid or something?" nagged the Cableman. "What's wrong with you?"
Larry just sat on the floor and continued to shake.
"Man, you're all messed up. You need help." He called out to Grandma in the other room, "Ma'am, your grandson is okay. But you might want to call the paramedics."
While waiting for rescue to arrive, the Cableman thought he would use the opportunity to talk some sense into Larry. "Look, I understand that you're girlfriend broke up with you. But this isn't the way to handle it. Suicide is never the answer. Did you know that someone once did the very thing that you attempted? He played "killing yourself to live" by Black Sabbath—over and over again—after his girlfriend broke up with him. After some hours he pulled the trigger of the shotgun; but chickened out at the last second, and managed to escape any serious damage from the bullet. But he now walks through life with a shotgun hole in his face. Is that how you want to end up?
Larry finally spoke up, "That's how I got the idea."

The End!