The Semi-Lost art of Phrenology

I like to study lost science projects. In this case,  phrenology (google it). I’m probably the foremost authority in 6 or 7 small towns on the subject.  I’m often called upon to spot the un-obvious for those who can’t spot the obvious.  Phrenology is the study of people’s head shapes to determine criminal behavior.  So, you can see why I am so valuable…I help the police all the time and parents who want to know what type of criminal their child will be.

I am even able to put hardened criminals on the right track;say they have been robbing 7/11’s, I do a complete head analysis( which includes a free shampoo and de-lousing) and I can’t tell you how many of these guys should have been robbing “Circle K’s”.  I also had to become a trained “Adoptionist” because when parents hear some of my renderings

they want to pawn their kids off before it’s too late, so I help them unload

them on some unsuspecting couple. My conscience is clear, they get what they pay for.

Some of the people I give renderings to didn’t even know they were criminals until I pointed out the obvious to them.  Some felt like they almost missed their calling.  This makes me feel warm all over after I get them going on the right wrong road to crime.

I know many of you are now wanting me to examine the lumps on your head which I’m willing to do…but please don’t put pressure on me to do grand-kids, or relatives that you suspect are on the wrong path. And yes you may enroll in my next session, which also includes Eye Ball Re-Alignment, my own invention as to a possible cure for criminal behavior…

Love Always, BS

The Dichotomy of Irony

I was recently with a friend of mine that I want to murder. Ok not really, I know that sounded a little too harsh, but I would do it for  the troops.  He hates our covey of men who are doing the fighting for us.  He basically is the type when I say something that has the shrewdness of a James Bond quip ,he will just bob his head with a blank stare.  I have to say, “get it?” three times, then a light comes on, his eyes light up and he stammers, “not really”.  The guy should be on a leash, his basic intellect consists of the herd mentality.  He  cannot yoke two ideas simultaneously.  He seems to think I know all the answers because he only knows what he can parrot.  He does build a strong case for the ape-man connection.  I wanted him to feel good about himself and I explained we all have gifts tucked away in our quivers.  The blank stare returned, it was as if his mind had taken flight.  He wanted to know where his quiver was.  I told him he didn’t have a quiver.

At this point I knew I had to turn things around or I would end up in the Abbott andCostello spiel about who’s on first.  I needed to school him, not ridicule him. I explained his gift was like a colony with many off-shoots.  The eyes turned blank. Ok.  I said, “you have the gift of hiding your gift”.  The eyes returned blank, this is going to take team work.  He wanted to know what gift he was hiding, once more, I explained that was his Gift…..hiding his gift or gifts.  Gifts?, he inquired, yeah you probably have a whole passel of gifts hidden away…..I played football with this guy, I wish you could’ve heard him in the huddle.  He always had a bevy of real bad ideas, that may of course been his gift come to think of it…..bad ideas.  If you know every idea he has is terrible, you don’t rake him over the coals you bury the bad idea and do the opposite.  He is constantly chattering, he likes to carry a bouquet of flowers where-ever he goes.  I’m always secretly hoping a pigeon will shit on his head.  I think his mother puts him to bed at night.  He tells me he wishes he was English so he could be in Parliament.  I tried to tell him, in the real world he would be considered the runt of the litter.  He really turned the tables on me here, he wanted to know what I had against little people.  He loves to play the PC game of “Gotcha”.  I want to give him a parcel of dynamite.  That would be an eye-opener for him.  Just the thought of him makes me shiver.  I could go on and on about this guy that keeps his pea brain in a pod till time to use it, but what for?Democrats have the charm of a swarm of gnats.  Sorry to ambush you with this but he drove me to it…..I will now take flight.

Love Always,

BS

P. S.  Ironically I only wrote this pack of lies to see if you all noticed I used collective nouns (the way you refer to a group of animals, like a murder of crows, a huddle of penguins, a quiver of cobras)…I thought it might be sort of a dichotomy of irony to do this…

murder, troops, covey, bob, leash, herd, yoke, quiver, flight, school, colony, team, passel, huddle, bevy, rake, bury, chattering, bouquet, bed,

Parliament, litter, parcel, shiver, pod, swarm, ambush, drove…I can see the lights going on now and people ever-where are saying “I get it”.

I Can’t Remember And That’s Good

In keeping with the American dream I’m going to start a new business. Most people consider a worst-case scenario when starting a business,  but in the things that I do, that is never even a thought. It just doesn’t happen.  As in most inventions or inventive businesses, they start by accident.  First let me explain to you how my business came about . .  This has nothing to do with luck, you just have to have a pure heart.  I realize this leaves most of you out….but that’s why there is me.

I was in the grocery store  behind a lady  who had a huge basket full of groceries waiting to check out.  All I was carrying was a single tube of glue. I had run out and I had nothing to sniff, hence I was a little anxious.   She insisted that I take “cuts” but being the gentleman that I am with such a pure heart, I declined. She insisted, so I did indeed did cut in front of her, and then I called my daughter to bring our cart that was full of groceries.

The lady was aghast ! She was horrified that someone would  do such a brazen act.  I felt completely justified. After all, she insisted that I take cuts.   Then this rude lady had the audacity to call the manager.   My daughter (Gina), who is usually not very quick witted and can prove it, explained to the lady that I had amnesia and could not remember cutting in front of her.  The  lady could not apologize fast enough or often enough.  She came over and stroked my arm.  She even told me how nice I was that I would take my daughter grocery shopping with me.  I told her, “somebody had to push the cart”.  She then asked my daughter, “is he always this cantankerous”?  Gina said no, sometimes he’s really bad, like the time he took a little toddler’s baby bottle and guzzled it right down.  The little tyke and the mother both cried.  The woman could only gasp.  That Gina has quite an imagination.

 It was at that exact moment  I realized if you have amnesia (and a pure heart)  you can get away with anything.   People on trial  are constantly forgetting that they just  stabbed their mother-in-law 42 times.  I now dine out lavishly 5 to 8 times a week and I never pay. I know you are asking yourself,  how do you parlay this into a business?

I am now selling my new product that I call  Milk Of Amnesia. 

What does it do?  I can’t believe people don’t see the obvious, so I’ll explain the obvious.  It’s a concoction I have developed that helps you to remember that you can’t remember.  Now it’s only $19.99 per bottle and if you’re one of the first 8 people to order within the 2 year time limit I set, I’ll enclose a special little ribbon that you wear on your finger to remind you to take your Milk Of Amnesia.  Yes, franchises are available.  I would never leave you out.  Don’t Forget at least not until you get your order in….

Love Always,

Bob   

Breakdance Competition

Here I go again having to start a tale by saying ‘I’m not bragging, but!’  But I have no choice.  Truth is truth.  I recently traveled to Poland to compete in the ‘World Breakdancing Championships’. It is not as easy as you might think; you don’t just show up.

First, you have to get past local competition and climb the ladder until you reach the world finals which are held in the capitol of Poland, Istanbul.  Now, for reasons of veracity I will confess that in my age/class bracket there was no other competition, but had there been I would have won anyway.

I had to overcome many obstacles to garner the medal.  First of all I had to find Istanbul in Poland. That was not easy unless you come from Polish stock.  Secondly, I’m used to break-dancing to the down-home sounds of rap.  In Poland you have to break-dance to live music consisting of an accordion and a husband and wife team yodeling Polish folk songs.  It whipped the crowd into a frenzy and polka dancing broke out in various parts of the crowd.  This made concentration nearly impossible.  This would have caused the average American not to break-dance but to break-down and cry.  I had to be strong.
Now in my age group, you have to get your speed up before you can break-dance.  This requires a second ‘somebody’ to help you.  Anyway I stick my leg up in the air and my Second grabs my ankle firmly and starts to run in circles to get my speed up.  Unfortunately, my man ran out of gas after five or 10 minutes.  I was just about up to speed too.  The Polish judge solved the problem .  He enlisted the aid of a very large Polish lass; I would say she weighed somewhere between 400 and 450 pounds.  She was smart.  She didn’t run in circles.  She simply swung my leg, around and around, like someone pushing a merry-go-round.  Sweat was cascading from her forehead (I hope) into my eyes.  I looked up through blurred vision and I can only say I hope she was wearing underwear.  I don’t want to delve further on this aspect of the competition.

To make a long story short, I came in third. The guy that came in second was awarded the medal posthumously.  And the guy that came in first was en route so they figured he had to be better than me.  I think I got homered because he was Polish and only lived 1 km away.

Yes, I have hired Gertrude to be my permanent Second and yes I’m getting her a very large pair of spandex workout Capri’s.  I have an emergency need for large amounts of sauerkraut and goulash.  I’m open to recipes.  Hey, she didn’t come for nothing

Love Always,

BS

Medical Emergency

There are probably thousands, possibly millions of you who could be affected by what I’m about ready to divulge.  You see, I was bitten a few days ago by a mosquito, spider or rabid dog.  The doctor wasn’t sure where the bite came from and asked me if I could remember a dog biting me.  I could actually remember a dog biting me, but I was 11 years old at the time.  The doctor seemed to think that excluded a dog bite.  Well here- in lies the problem .  The bite itched something fierce.  I was on the verge of going out my mind.  So what did I do?  I self medicated.  That seemed like the logical thing to do.  I went to the medicine cabinet and got out some of that pink caladryl; this stuff is supposed to alleviate that horrible itching sensation.  I doused my leg with generous amounts but it did absolutely nothing.  Family members had gathered around me to watch me wrihe in agony.  Then my little granddaughter noticed something– I was dousing my leg with Pepto Bismol and not Caladryl.  This is why I am suing and I know hundreds of you have probably had the same thing happen.  It should be illegal to have two medicines that are pink.

I happened to run into Alan Dershowitz, Robert Shapiro and Baez the guy that just defended Casey Anthony.  They all wanted to know if I had a bad childhood.  I told them I couldn’t remember.  They said that is a sure sign that I DID have a bad childhood and now had every right to sue  both companies for trying to sell pink medicine.  But we needed one last opinion before we decided to take action.  We conducted a séance and channeled Johnny Cochran we all distinctly heard him say, “if it don’t fit you got to acquit.”  Then he quickly corrected himself and said, “if it’s of a pink hue you GOT to sue.”  I know most of you have had this exact same problem that is why I’m asking you to join me in my class action lawsuit against these wicked purveyors of evil.  Robert Shapiro thought that we should label our lawsuit “Pink Pink, You Stink”.  At this point Johnnie Cochran faded out, but this is your chance to wade-in.  Join me in my fight to preserve the American way……

Love Always,

Bob

Regrets

Yes, it’s true even I have a regret or two.  As I look back in a moment of reflection I’m reminded of one of my biggest regrets.  I took my youngest daughter to get braces when she was 10 or 11.  The receptionist gave her a unique questionaire.  They wanted to know everything about her, her likes and dislikes etc.  I remember they even wanted to know what her favorite flower was.  When she finished I took the questionaire and headed for the receptionist, then I noticed she left the part about hobbies blank, so I filled it in for her.  I put, “I LIKE TO PULL THE WINGS OUT OF INSECTS”.  After her appointment the doctor wanted a minute with me in private.  He showed me her “HOBBY” he was aghast and suggested that I get her into therapy as soon as possible.  That’s my regret. I didn’t realize till later he was right… all women need to be in therapy and the sooner the better…

 

Love Always,

BS

WARNING!!!!

I know most of you are on your toes and alert these days, but, I need to warn you about certain E-mails going around, maybe some of you have seen them.  They basically tell you to love openly, give someone a big hug and dance like no one is watching.  This last one is the problem.  I was just following instructions and the best I can tell you is that someone thought either I overdosed or hadn’t had my medications in a timely manner.  Let’s just say I’m out of the hospital now. No, the other hospital. So in conclusion I suggest you go back to dancing like someone IS watching…

 

You’re welcome,

BS

The Lump

Just recently, I may have found my true calling in life only to have it snatched away by a kid that was just a year old.   Yes, I volunteered to help in “Toddlers Church”.  My job was to lay on the floor like a large lump and let the tiny tots have their way with me.  This included small pudgy hands attempting to enlarge my mouth by tearing  my lips off.  My eyes were a constant source of interest for these little waddle-rs, it seems my eyes, for reasons they could not explain needed to be excised.  One little dude with a very large fluffy diaper just wanted to sit on my butt.  He had to throw blows more than once to keep this coveted spot.  Another little boy thought I needed to be hit on the head with his fire truck. ( I liked the nostril enlarging process better than the hits on the head with his fire truck)  I really get a kick out of the little girls with their ribbons and purses to match they were quite a bit nicer, I must’ve drank 32 cups of fake tea, and I had to proclaim how delicious it was which caused more and more cups coming my way.  In between the assorted beatings they administered I actually tried to doze off.  The two female volunteers were dutifully reading them stories out of a Bible book for squirts they would listen for a while but about every 5 minutes, then it was recess time which meant, “let’s take a break and go bash the lump”.  I actually loved those little guys crawling all over me.  I was like Mt. Everest they climbed it because “It was there”.

As I was dozing off it happened a little bludgeoner came over and plopped right on my head as he sat there realization hit me his diaper needed immediate attention all that wafted my way wasn’t necessarily delightful.  He was drinking from his baby bottle and thought he had just found his easy chair.  It took a second for realization to set in then I realized this kid must’ve been in on a prank and I had just been “Punked”.  But, no he did it all on his own, whoever put that diaper on definitely wasn’t a professional.  I was ready to call 911 when Stephanie spotted the problem and and admonished the little tyke for sitting on the lumps head with a faulty diaper.  I was given a “wet one” these are dampened napkins you use to clean babies bottoms.  I wanted to pour alcohol on my head.  I will say this, I always try to find something positive about every situation no matter how messy, then it came to me my sinuses were completely clear.  I don’t know if I’m man enough to return the trauma has subsided somewhat, I’m suffering from “Post traumatic Syndrome” .  I think I now know where the term”S… Head” came from.  All right I’m gonna “Man Up” and do it again…..just not sure when……

Love Always,

BS