Definitely Would Be Politically Incorrect If Published Today (Warning: Adult Content)

Twenty years ago this evening, Fargo North Decoder dropped into Comedy Corner, which was a posting board on my now-defunct Website that bit the dust at the beginning of this decade. I can’t believe we’re only a month and a half away from the next one.

Anyway, things were a lot different before the present millennium. People didn’t get offended quite as easily. Fargo wasn’t one to mince words, many of which wouldn’t be apropos for this blog. However, here’s one of his milder rants:

Fargo on Tue. 11/16/99 has joined Comedy Corner at 17:14:17

Remember 2 weeks ago, George Bush was jogging and was almost hit by a garbage truck? He said his life flashed before his eyes. Only thing was, the ’70s were missing. Well, the governor just had another close call. He went into a think tank yesterday and almost drowned!

This past weekend marked 45 years when Ellis Island closed. Remember, that’s where the immigrants used to come into this country? It has since been replaced by California and Texas.

You know what Pokemon is? It’s short for “pocket monster.” It’s like a huge deal and I’m thinking: haven’t kids been playing with those for years?

How many people watched the big “Earthquake Hits New York City” movie? Okay, here’s what happens. Buildings collapse, cabs are driving on the sidewalk, trains are derailed. THEN, the earthquake hits! And the jolt was so powerful that Hillary Clinton was knocked back to her home state.

George W. Bush’s autobiography comes out this week. Everyone wants to know about his drug days, when he was young. The most he admits to is “some of the excesses of the youth of my time.” What does that mean? The closest I can get is: not only did he do coke and drink … he slept with Mick Jagger.

A man in Washington State has invented a new briefcase that turns into a portable toilet. Which means from now on, the guy in the restaurant using his cell phone won’t seem so bad.

Disney is canceling plans for making the sequel to the movie, Peter Pan. The main reason is that Peter is close to 50 now, and it’s just too creepy that he keeps showing up in kids bedrooms.

The other day, a woman on an Air New Zealand flight felt something crawling up her leg. When the gal lifted her blanket, she discovered it was a rat. When that happens on Air Force One, people HOPE it’s a rat.

Prince Charles turned 51 yesterday. The prince spent the day riding his horse, but enough about Camilla Parker Bowles. Every year he asks his mother for the same thing: her job!

Finally, walking through Chinatown, a tourist is fascinated with all the Chinese restaurants, shops, signs and banners. He turns a corner and sees a building with
the sign, “Hans Olaffsen’s Laundry.”

“Hans Olaffsen?” he says. “How the heck does that fit in here?”

So he walks into the shop and sees an elderly Chinese gentleman behind the counter. The tourist says, “How did this place get a name like ‘Hans Olaffsen’s Laundry'”?

“Is name of owner,” the old man says.

“Well, who and where is the owner?”

“Me, is right here.”

“You? How did you ever get a name like Hans Olaffsen?”

“Is simple. Many, many year ago, when come to this country, was stand in line at
Documentation Center. Man in front was big, blonde Swede.” the old-timer said. “Lady at desk look at him and go, ‘What your name?’ He say, ‘Hans Olaffsen.’ Then she look at me and go, ‘What your name?’ I say, Sem Ting.”


Fargo on Tue. 11/16/99 17:27:06
I don’t tink this ting’s working….

Fargo on Tue. 11/16/99 left Comedy Corner at 17:27:17

Fargo passed away on 15 April 2002. Had he lived on to the present, I’m certain he’d be having a field day with the current state of affairs. He is surely missed.

On a brighter note: during last week’s entry, I bitched about hearing Christmas music before Thanksgiving arrives, the official start of the holidaze. Having had a change of heart, allow me to pick our first holiday tune in advance:

Warning: NSFW

Thanks for stopping by and for your continued support.

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Baby It’s Cold Outside!

An arctic blast has taken over the area, dropping the overnight temperature this morning to the low 20s F/~-6° C. Highs today were in the mid-40s F/7° C, rather cold for this time in November. Those readings are typical of December into January around here.

Maybe a bit of snow will fall on this coming Tuesday in the Philadelphia region, as the temps will be hovering around freezing. Pulled out the long johns, thermal tops and big coat from the black-hole closet, all of which I’ve been wearing the past couple of days, keeping toasty at the lake today, bird-watching, taking photos and meeting up with my friend Dawn.

Lake Luxembourg Bald Eagles

Was rewarded with seeing Lake Luxembourg‘s resident nesting pair of bald eagles, who have been missing in action during my previous, several visits. Their nest had blown away during one of the late-summer thunderstorms, which they’ve begun to rebuild. It was nice to see them around again. Mating season is coming up soon.

An early, spectacular sunset (as seen at the top of this entry) and stellar moonrise capped off this afternoon, as Eastern Standard Time makes the day an hour shorter, making me pine for spring already.

All the brouhaha leading up to Election Day is behind us, at least until next year’s presidential election. I’m certainly not looking forward to all that forthcoming hot air. At least the junk snail mail is almost manageable now.

Requisite 2019 “I Voted” Selfie

Before I retired, every year on the day after Election Day, my boss would always ask if the final voting results were favorable for me and had gone my way. What a sneaky ploy to find out who I voted for. If I was happy, then that would have told him I voted for the winners, and vice versa. My reply was that I was happy the elections were over!

Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to place one’s name on a do-not-mail list, like we can do for a telephone number onto the do-not-call list? Just think of all the trees saved and one’s carbon footprint that can be made smaller as a result.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner, the start of another holiday season. Bah, humbug! Christmas decorations are prematurely evident in places around town. I heard holiday music in a department store the other day, which made me turn around and exit immediately. Just call me Scrooge, OK? Sorry, not sorry.

One of my pet peeves is for the start of the holidays to begin before they’re supposed to. For me that means on Black Friday. Then the stores can go for it! Don’t play any Christmas music until then either. I’ll never shop at that store again.

Guaranteed, I’ll be hearing Yuletide tunes firstly at the Wharf’s PA system in Bristol, PA, where I go to check on the Burlington Island Bald Eagles and Smartphone Zombies. The borough starts blaring their holiday music several days before Thanksgiving.

For the past two years, my first Christmas tune for the season was heard there. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” was last year’s. The year before that was Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” This year I’m really hoping it won’t be “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer.” Actually, I’d be happy if I never heard that song again.

Well, that wraps up another tirade. Thanks for stopping by, and for your continued support.

A funky, pre-Yuletide Tune to fit the present weather conditions, featuring Rie Waits

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Is It Fall Back Or Fall Flat On Your Face?

Frost is officially on the pumpkin!

As an addendum to recent entries, I’d like to mention that early this morning, the growing season in Andalusia, Pa., and surrounding areas ended for another year. Temps reached below freezing for the first time since last spring, thereby halting any more frost warnings from the National Weather Service until next March.

Secondly, the Yanks and the Dodgers will have to wait for another baseball season to make it to the World Series, as the Washington Nationals battled it out with the Houston Astros and won, becoming this year’s world champions.

Thirdly, the salt line in the Delaware River on October 28th was 5 miles upstream of its normal location for October.

Fourthly, my weight is holding fast at 225 pounds (102 kilograms/16 stone, 1 pound), with 25 more (11 kg/1 stone, 11 pounds) to shed before reaching my diet’s goal. I’ve fallen off the wagon a few times with Entenmanns’ goodies.

My bathroom scale is in the kitchen, on which I weigh myself daily to make sure I haven’t backslid any since the last reading. One thing I’ve learned is to check my weight after having taken my morning constitution, to put it euphemistically. That way, I’m certain to be a couple of pounds lighter. Yeah, I know, too much info!

I can’t wait for Tuesday, Election Day in the U.S., to be over. I’m sick and tired of sorting through all the junk sent in the mail by both the Democratic and Republican Parties with their perpetual mudslinging. Don’t tell me how the opposing party’s candidates have taken a dump in the middle of the road. Tell me how you are going to clean it up! Sorry for being gross, but that’s the way I feel.

I’m also tired of being politically correct all the time. People nowadays become offended too easily. I think it’s all Social Media’s fault. Before the Internet, people were more civil to each other, it seems.

Probably folks were too chicken back then for saying to someone’s face, what they write today on Twitter or Facebook, being most of the trolls do so anonymously, much easier that way to put somebody down, which has made most people so defensive.

One can’t say anything in jest without having the Social Media Police breathing down your neck. John Cleese of Monty Python fame put it succinctly in an AARP interview, where he was asked if Monty Python would get away with their humor in the current politically correct environment. He responded:

Probably not. But we were pushing it pretty hard in those days. Because the ’60s and ’70s were pretty stuffy.

What’s political correctness about? It’s about not offending people. Does that mean that you can’t challenge other people’s ideas? That’s exactly what should happen in a university environment. It’s like you’re having a lovely party and down the stairs comes the maiden aunt. So, everybody behaves in a very restrained way to avoid upsetting the maiden aunt. So, the question is: Do we want standards of offending people to protect the touchiest, weakest and most self-serving, or the reasonably robust who don’t take themselves too seriously?

John Cleese from AARP Bulletin, October 2019

Lastly, here’s something that has been bothering me. Why do many people with whom I correspond wait for sometimes several days to respond to an e-mail, or tweet on Twitter, when I know they had read my message right away, soon as their Internet device’s tone alerted them my communication had arrived in their virtual in-box?

How do I know that? I’ve either seen them in real life checking out their smartphones constantly, or have noticed their immediate responses to other Social Media notices on their respective platforms.

Is there a time limit imposed before answering me, like there is for being sociably late to a party? A quick response would be nice. Also, any response from those who never respond at all would be the cat’s whiskers.

OK, I feel much better now. Don’t forget to change you clocks back, if you hadn’t already. The extra hour of sleep for many is great, but it doesn’t make up for how dark it’s going to seem at 5:30 p.m. on Sunday evening.

Thanks for stopping by to read another tirade, and for your continued support.

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Ode to Losing Weight

There Goes My Diet Again

When I was young and in my prime,
I’d stuff my face most any old time.
Now my hair is turning gray,
I only eat but two times a day.

Trying to lose my flabby gut,
And the extra padding on my butt;
Looking at my reflection from the side,
Makes me want to run and hide.

Someone I know said they wished they gave a damn,
About their health and how their waistline ran,
But it’s easy for them to say,
Relative to me they were born only yesterday.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to capture youth’s potion in a bottle?
Just take two teaspoonsful every morning with your waffle,
And gobble down anything and everything during the rest of the day,
While not siving a ghit about how all the pounds will eventually lay.

I was a bit of a porker as a young tyke,
Lost all that weight once the hormones were set right.
My body turned skinny like a flag pole or train rail,
Nothing would further effect the reading on the bathroom scale.

Started repacking the pounds in my forties upon promotion to a desk job,
My slim physique began turning into a blob,
All my past energy it did rob,
Just thinking about it now makes me want to sob.

The work was no longer physical, yet I still labored very hard,
But sitting on my arse for eight hours daily was turning my body into lard,
‘Cuz the daily pressure for making sure all my i’s were dotted and t’s were crossed,
Any pep at the end of the day for exercise had been lost.

The Internet began to influence my spare time,
More sitting on the rump, creating a Website most sublime,
Starting an online business, trying to make an extra dime,
Hoping that the new enterprise would turn into a gold mine.

It took a friend to bring me to my senses, calling me obese,
Never had I considered myself to be fat in the least,
Perhaps a bit overweight, maybe even chubby,
For the lack of a better word, let’s just say pudgy.

My doctor never told me to lose any weight.
Wonder why if I am in that state,
Of obesity or corpulence, rotundity as of late?
Time is now to lose it for goodness sake.

Lost 45 pounds, that’s 3 stone, or 20 kilograms at my first attempt,
Took me over 6 months to do it; by golly I was hell bent,
From obesity to a healthier poundage I was sent,
By many a dollar on green coffee-bean extract that had been spent.

Sadly after a couple of years all that fat did come back,
From eating those goodies found on the Entenmann’s and Tastykake’s rack,
At the market along with all that forbidden fruit,
Turning me again into that obese brute.

So now I’m down to two meals a day,
Counting all those calories, keeping most of them at bay.
Twenty pounds I hath shed, another twenty more to go,
Constantly hungry, I guess I’ll make another cup of Joe.

The worst part of being on a diet is dreaming of pigging out and waking up angry about doing it!
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When the Frost Is On The Pumpkin

Been waiting for the first frost of autumn. It hasn’t hit us yet, but many areas around here have experienced it already, which officially ends the growing season for them. My furnace has been turning on lately, though.

The photo of the roses above was captured at Glen Foerd Estate in Northeast Philadelphia, right across the section of Poquessing Creek that borders the property on which I live.

Those flowers will probably be the last bunch until next spring, unless the frost continues to dillydally like it’s been doing in my vicinity, not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The fall colors have yet to peak, but they’re getting close. Walking around Glen Foerd yesterday, I took a bunch of photos which I’d like to share with you. The following is a shot of the cement pond, as Elly May Clampett would say. That was Donna Douglas of the Beverly Hillbillies. Remember her?

I didn’t realize Ms. Douglas had died at eighty-three years old in 2015. Found that out while checking on the proper spelling of her character’s name. I had a crush on Elly May way back then. She was in her thirties while filming the TV program. Don’t recall her name trending on Twitter when she passed, like most every noteworthy individual does who dies.

Funny how you never read anything about a good portion of forgotten celebrities on Social Media until their death. Then everybody has to tweet, “RIP,” which makes me always think: how else are they going to rest? They’re dead. Certainly they won’t be twirling around in their caskets. How about those who get cremated? Will their urns start wobbling like the bottle in I Dream of Jeannie? I had a crush on Barbara Eden too. Glad to see she’s still alive.

Here’s another shot from Glen Foerd Estate’s rose garden:

Had to sneak in a shot of my Cooper. A wedding was about to take place, so I hung out in the rose garden and on the lower end of the property, taking photos of changing foliage.

The next one is of some more bush roses that are surviving the fall.

Soon the rose garden will look like the photo below, and we’ll be asking, “Is this some kind of joke?”

The old tree in the following picture seems to have died. Wonder what killed it?

I see lots of trees like that which were thriving and then, all of a sudden, they become prime candidates for firewood. Scientist are saying high levels of salinity in the soil, or excess salt, kills vegetation and trees, whether it be as a result of rising sea levels or runoff from road salt in the wintertime.

The salt line in the Delaware River for this time of year normally stops a bit north of the Delaware Memorial Bridge, which crosses the river from New Castle, Delaware, and Pennsville Township, NJ.

Looking at its latest position on a graphic from the Delaware River Basin Commission, the salt line on this past Tuesday stopped north of Commodore Barry Bridge at Chester, PA, and Bridgeport, NJ.

It’s just curious to me why so many trees lately have been dying off. I’ve noticed it happening at Neshaminy State Park, further north up the river from Glen Foerd. My favorite walnut tree at Sarobia died and was cut down recently.

Could the river’s salinity level be slowly rising undetected, causing the demise of all these trees?

Enough about death. Who wants to read about that anyhow, unless someone wants to wish a newly and dearly departed soul, “RIP” on Social Media?

Before concluding, here are some more shots of dying leaves, which look so beautiful in the fall. Sort of nature’s irony that beauty can be found in death.

The above photo was taken yesterday as well, when I was at Sarobia in Logan’s Garden, being interviewed for a documentary about the old estate that’s now Neshaminy State Park. The next photo is of the two guys who are producing the epic, which will be coming soon to a Social Media venue near you. Stay tuned.

Tyler and Coady

Thanks for stopping by, and for your continued support.

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No Respect, I Tell You!

Blame it on the almost-full Hunter’s Moon—rising over the Delaware River, Delanco, NJ—October 12, 2019.

A Tribute to Rodney Dangerfield:

I was so poor growing up, if I wasn’t a boy, I would have had
nothing to play with.

A girl phoned me the other day and said, “Come on over. Nobody’s
home.”

I went over. Nobody was home.

During sex, my girlfriend always wants to talk to me. Just the
other night she called me from a hotel.

One day I came home early from work and saw a guy jogging
naked. I said to him, “Hey buddy, why are you doing that?”

He said, “Because you came home early.”

It’s been a rough day. I got up this morning, put a shirt on
and a button fell off. I picked up my briefcase and the handle came
off. I’m afraid to go to the bathroom.

I was such an ugly kid that when I played in the sandbox, the cat kept
covering me up.

I could tell my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a
radio.

I was such an ugly baby, my mother never breast-fed me. She
told me that she only liked me as a friend.

I was so ugly, my father carried around a picture of the kid who came
with his wallet.

When I was born, the doctor came into the waiting room and said to
my father, “I’m sorry, we did everything we could; but he pulled
through.”

I’m so ugly, my mother had morning sickness after I was born.

I was kidnapped as a child and they sent a piece of
my finger to my father for ransom. He said he wanted more proof.

Once, when I was lost, I saw a policeman and asked him to help
me find my parents. “Do you think we’ll ever find them?” I said.

” I don’t know kid. There’s so many places they can hide.”

My wife made me join a bridge club. I jump off next Tuesday.

I’m so ugly, I worked in a pet shop, and people kept asking
how big I’d get.

I went to see my physician. “Doctor, every morning when I get up
and I look in the mirror, I feel throwing up; What’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but your eyesight is perfect.”

I went to the doctor because I swallowed a bottle sleeping pills.
He told me to have a few drinks and get some rest.

Lastly, things to contemplate while cleaning out your navel:

Do people in Australia call the rest of the world “up over”?

Does that screwdriver belong to Phillip?

Why is it called “lipstick” if you can still move your lips?

Why is it that night falls but day breaks?

Why is the third hand on the watch called a second hand?

Why is it that when you’re driving and looking for an address, you turn down the volume on the radio?

Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavor, and dish-washing liquid made with real lemons?

Are part-time band leaders semi-conductors?

Can you buy an entire chess set in a pawnshop?

How do you get off a non-stop flight?

How do you write zero in Roman numerals?

If athletes get athlete’s foot, do astronauts get mistletoe?

Why do they call it ‘chili’ if it’s hot?

Why do we sing “Take me out to the ball game,” when we are already there?

Why is the time of day with the slowest traffic called rush hour?

Jason Everhardt

Another Saturday night and I was feeling tired from chasing the moon and so uninspired that I had to resort to re-posting some old jokes from Comedy Corner. Hope you managed to giggle somewhere along the line.

Thanks for stopping by and for your continued support.

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Better Late Than Never

First Quarter Moon Over the Delaware River

The furnace went on last night for the first time since last spring, a welcoming sound for the way autumn is supposed to be. The overnight low went down to 44°F/7°C in Andalusia and hit below freezing in the Poconos. Soon the frost will be on the pumpkin in the Philadelphia region.

It felt wonderful today as compared to midweek, hitting 63°F/17°C, a perfect excuse for wearing my new hoodie. Bought a sweatshirt with it but haven’t worn it yet. Maybe tomorrow, which isn’t supposed to be as chilly with a high around 72°F/22°C.

I’m sure we’ll have another warm spell as Indian Summer occurs typically around the World Series, spurring memories of when I was a tyke. The first Fall Classic I recall pitted the New York Yankees against the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1956. Man, does that put me in the dinosaur-age category!

The Dodgers were the defending world champions in ’56, winners of their matchup with the Yanks in 1955; however, the Bronx Bombers beat Dem Bums this time around. The former Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers moved to Los Angeles after the 1957 season.

I was in the morning session of kindergarten, Mom picking me up at noon in her Ford Fairlane with the top down. We drove to Rayco, a service center in Paramus, NJ, that specialized in replacing convertible tops, except hers only needed the clear-vinyl back window. Someone or something poked a hole in the original one.

As we were sitting in the waiting room, the World Series was being broadcast over the intercom system. Whitey Ford was pitching. My mother loved baseball, the Yanks, and him in particular. Unfortunately for us, New York lost the game. An old saying of mine came from that afternoon, with Mum’s utterance of how it was bad luck to win the first game anyway.

The Yanks took the championship in seven games, the last time two New York City teams were in Fall Classic together until 2000 with the Mets. The Giants moved to San Francisco in 1958, and the Big Apple was without a National League team until the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club was formed in 1962.

Our hometown heroes, the Phillies, broke even this season with a record of 81-81, and 4th place in the National League East behind their division rival, the Mets, who made it to 3rd place this year. The Nationals and Atlanta are still battling to win the division series along with the Dodgers and St. Louis.

The Yanks are in the postseason with the Twins, Tampa Bay and Houston for the American League division series. Wouldn’t it be cool, in my humble opinion, for a Dodgers and Yanks’ matchup for this year’s Fall Classic? We shall see, but as usually is the case, always bet against me to win.

I didn’t feel like writing anything tonight and was going to let this week’s diatribe slide, but felt guilty and decided to write about the weather, which led to baseball and the end of another thrilling entry. Thanks for stopping by and for your continued support.

October 3, 1956
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