Episode #120: Dad's Stuffy Update With A Humorous Twist

One of my late afternoon hikes, where the weather was very springy but the visual was still very autumny. I was sitting on a ruined foundation (honestly) taking a breather. Right now, the silence is very, very golden right now: no peeps, no domestic or wild animals and no birds. Perfect for a bit of whatever kind of meditation floats your boat.

So I thought it would good time to give a little writing update, since for the past few weeks I haven't done anything after completing the The Average American Novel. 

As most of you know, I've spend the past few weeks moving my den back into my den as well as re-organizing my worldly possessions elsewhere (homemade crate shelving). I'll save the gory details/pics for a later post, but I do want to share that I've re-discovered the bulk of my finished & unfinished manuscripts. I'll also go into gory detail about that later, but I did find a short story that has the unoriginal title of "The Grid" adorning it. Since I'm very horrible with names, it has a placeholder title of "The Grid Aint't My Friend". I know, cringe-worthy.

Anyways, the basic premise is a group of friends getting revenge on another for some perceived personality flaw. Trite, I know, but this was written last decade, so, there you go. Anyways, I've been working on rewriting this bad girl for the past week or so, and I'm making decent progress with enough knuckle-curves added to make a batter throw a temper tantrum in the batter's box. Caution to the wind I say. Lots of inference of all kinds of abnormalities (to some folks) to be had.

In addition to find all of those manuscripts, I've also found a treasure trove of ye olden e-mail humor printed out some 12+ years ago. I've shared a few already, so here's another for your enjoyment. Not sure who sent me this originally, so I can't give a proper credit to, but it's funny just the same.

The Pastor's Ass

The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the outcome that he entered it in the race again, and it won again.

The local paper read: PASTOR'S ASS OUT FRONT.

The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.

The next day, the local paper headline read: BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR'S ASS.

This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey. The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent.

The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN.

The Bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10.

The next day the paper read: NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.

This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild.

The next day the headlines read: NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE.

The Bishop was buried the next day.

The moral of the story is....being concerned about public opinion can bring you much grief and misery...and even shorten your life. So be yourself and enjoy life...Stop worrying about everyone else's ass and you'll be a lot happier and live longer!

And on that not, I bid everyone a spiffy Monday and a fantabulous week!

{c} 2022 by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved

Episode #119: I. Are. Unalived!

It took about two weeks or so, but I got about 97% of my den & side of the basement the way I wanted. I still have 3% left to move into more crates {three Time-Life book series}, but I want to show what I've managed to get done so far.

If the title of his blog post seems weird, that's because one of the words from title was pulled from a mediocre Bored Panda article, and that word has become my new favorite stupidly woke descriptor that now replaces George Orwell's "unperson" from 1984.

That word is "unalived."

There are very few things that can get me worked up to the point of frothing at the mouth at the utter stupidity of the object in question. As you saw from a post from about month and a half ago, one is book censorship. For this post, it's the censorship of "offensive" words. Now I'm not talking about George Carlin's List Of Seven Words You Can't Say On Television {T.L.;DR: this was done back when cable did not exist and you had only ABC, NBC and CBS to play with, and I'm not gonna link 'cause I'm pretty sure you know what they are}. I'm talking about everyday words that people use in stories, news articles, essays, etc. etc. etc.

Anyways, I was reading a story on my phone from Bored Panda about 30 of the coolest people from history. But within the first seconds of reading, I was seeing a pair of this particular symbol, [ ], inserted into a story. As I further progressed with my reading, I saw them being inserted into almost every story. At first, I thought the word "sic" was being used because the prior word was somehow originally misspelled, but sadly, that was not the case.

It turns out they were substituting a supposedly "offensive/icky" word {keep in mind it seems that this website is based in one of the Scandinavian countries} with words they consider "not offensive", which in turn ultimately craters the original meaning of the phrase. Here are some wonderful examples.

1} Changed "saving around 20 lives and dying a damn hero" to "saving around 20 lives and passed away a damn hero;

2} Changed "using his Bowie knife, killed Cyrus Turner" to using my new fave word "using his Bowie knife, unalived Cyrus Turner";

3} Changed "It's one level of bad-a**ery to die for your cause" to "It's one level of bad-a**ery to take out for your cause", and finally;

4} Changed "To become a war chief he had to touch an enemy without killing him" to "To become a war chief he had to touch an enemy without unaliving him",  and in the next paragraph, they used the phrase "passed away" instead of the word "died".

This level of nonsense irritates me to no end, and I put this irritant right up there with those so-called "diversity readers" that seem to be all the rage these days. I mean, how whipped do you have to be, how afraid do you have to be, of inflicting...GASP!....a microaggression or worse, activating a non-legitimate trigger on a dainty-delicate soul who doesn't want to read bad words/or somehow read something that was innocently gotten wrong {e.g. describing someone with a medical condition incorrectly}.

Note: I am in no way mocking the legitimate triggers that people have. An ex-friend has some PTSD from certain events in her life, so that was always in the forefront whenever I was deciding to show bits, pieces and parts of my writing. If something that I'd written met her criteria, I simply didn't show it to her.

Is this what we, as a distinct group of people, have allowed to happen to the written word? Am I simply the last of chosen few who doesn't get offended by words in general, but does get offended by people, places and things?

For me, this kind of crap is just another nail in the coffin of common sense. Personal pronouns, the devaluing of a majority of people to appease a distinct minority {what is a woman?}, eliminating a person's ethnic identity (Latinx?}, you name it, someone is going to get offended or offer up a "safe/approved" substitute that you must use or else.

I like the grammar police about as much as I like the moronic revisionists who try to apply today's screwed up values and hyphenated identities (using African American for the 17th through the mid-20th century, instead of the normal descriptor of Black as a better alternative).  You simply cannot judge people/places/events of yesteryear with the crappy values/mores/ethics of today.

Same goes for grammar. I understand when workarounds are needed in order to post something to a social media platform that normally gets flagged. I've done it numerous times myself, both here and elsewhere, so I really get it. But to change the meaning of a sentence, a paragraph, or even a story, simply because you were being "offended" by the original words, just you makes look like all those people clutching their pearls when Elon Musk bought a sizable chunk of Twitter and wants to buy it outright.

Ultimately, it should be left up to the reader of the written word on whether they want to be offended or not, not the person who is writing or re-writing a story, an article, an essay, or whatever the medium is.

With that being said, have a spiffy rest of your week.

{c} 2022 by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved

Episode #118: Home Is Where You Find Strange Humor

The pictures to the left are what one half of the basement looked like about two weeks ago. Roughly 95% of what you see there actually came out of my den. I do plan on posting after pics once I get the bulk of everything put away. What you see is the main reason why my writing has taken an unwanted sabbatical.

The other reason why I'm showing pictures of all the stuff that will either make its way back inside my den or to that kitty corner you see in the 2nd picture is that after starting the laborious process of sorting/putting things away, I managed to find some very interesting items.

One was seriously missing savings bonds that belong to my children. The other was a ton of ye olden printed work/personal e-mails, circa 2008/09. The T.L.;DR version is that work e-mail regulations back then were quite relaxed.

So, today's e-mail humor is called The Four Cats, and while this is workplace humor, this is specific to my former employer, the State Of CT. But really, you can apply it to any local or state or federal entity. Enjoy!

Four men were bragging about how smart their cats were.

The first man was an Engineer.

The second man was an Accountant.

The third man was a Chemist, and

The fourth man was a CT State Employee.

To show off, the Engineer called his cat, "T-Square", do your stuff.

"T-Square" pranced over to the desk, took out some paper and pen and promptly drew a circle, a square, and a triangle.

Everyone agreed that was pretty smart.

But the Accountant said his cat could do better. He called his cat and said, "Spreadsheet", do your stuff.

"Spreadsheet" went out to the kitchen and returned with a dozen cookies. He divided them into 4 equal piles of 3 cookies.

Everyone agreed that was good.

But the Chemist said his cat could do better. He called his cat and said, "Measure", do your stuff.

"Measure" got up, walked to the fridge, took out a quart of milk, got a 10 ounce glass from the cupboard and poured exactly 8 ounces without spilling a drop into the glass.

Everyone agreed that was pretty good.

Then the three men turned to the State Employee and said, "What can your cat do?"

The State Employee called his cat and said, "Coffee Break", do your stuff.

"Coffee Break" jumped to his feet....

Ate the cookies...

Drank the milk...

Crapped on the paper...

Screwed the other three cats...

Claimed he injured his back while doing so...

Filed a grievance report for unsafe working conditions...

Put in for Workers Comp...and...

Went home for the rest of the day on sick leave.....

And that, my friend, is why everyone wants to work for the state.

Here's to a very laid back Monday, as well as the rest of the week, for you.

{c} 2022 by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved

Episode #117: Home Is Where Your House Is

Decide to finally start my Spring/Summer weekend walking regime this past Saturday {4/2} with a walk around Mill Pond Park as well as checking to see if the public library is finally open, which it is. As you can see, these are our ever loathed Canadian Geese, who I was able to get very close to for this pic. Overall I saw less than 10 geese and ducks that day.

I thought for a radical change of pace, I would give something of a update about the various parts of my life that have been prudently, as well as judiciously, not been touched up for two weeks' worth of Sundays.

1. The den. This I have briefly touched upon a few weeks ago, but here's where we stand overall. While I did managed to spend about two to three hours boxing my c.d.s as well as hauling the three towers and shelving unit down to the basement, it also took me about a week and a half to sort, reconstruct shelving units, create master lists and put all 663 c.d.s away, with three individual shelves left over. Fun times.
2. The den, again. While the basement overall is roughly 3%, the truly fun part of decluttering the remaining 97% is now upon us. At the same time I started working on the c.d.'s, I want to Micheal's and bought 9 wooden crates and marked down construction paper so as to properly store my 45s. I also went to Homeless Depot and bought 3 paneling slats and 6 pre-cut two by four/sixes to use as support and bases, respectively. But in order to actually put that stuff away, I have to move out everything from that corner so that I can properly house the 45s. Even more fun times
3. The den, yet again. In no real particular order of importance, I also have to do the following: empty out three huge tote bins of albums, store said albums in the opposite corner, sort out what I have for used computers, printers, my various manuscripts, repurpose a fifteen foot long toy chest for more storage, sort out all of my personal copies of books, some books for personal use, all of my manuscripts, etc. etc. etc. Have a house play stupid games and force onto you stupid prizes.

Ultimate, I'm giving myself a deadline of the first week of June to get all of this crap done, and I may resurrect my picture blog just to document the before and after of this transition to a mini-man cave.

And now for something completely different (yes, I actually have a two volume set of the complete Monty Python's Flying Circus t.v. series scripts in book form. bought from B&N back when it was a good bookstore chain). Come this October, I are to be a grandfather. I'm quite excited to be one, and I find it interesting that I will be one at the ripe old age of 57.

Man, I is way too young to be a grandparent. But, then again, my oldest and his wife will be in the general area of 30 when they become 1st time parents, which is roughly when we became 1st time parents (27 & 30 respectively, with 2nd time being 36 & 39 respectively). Either way, we is very happy campers.

And finally, we shall address our health. Our health is still maintaining something, just not the status quo. When you have a permanent disease that subtly and gradually over the years, reduces your quality of life, you play the hand dealt to you as best, if not better, as you can. And yes, despite two genetic tests being performed over the past six years, I still have the same M.D. diagnosis {C-M-T} that was given to me originally about 16 years ago. I walk a bit slower now, my balance is a little more off than normal now, and my dexterity has dipped as well {hence now the pen and paper method for writing}.

But, I am still living my life to the fullest that I can. And that, my friends, is the best that one can absolutely hope for. 

Peace out and have a great Monday as well as the rest of your week.

{c} 2022 by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved