THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 To those of you who join me in being confused about what day it is, it's Friday.

Once again.

And I and my crack team of humorologists have been hard at work excavating some items from the Inner Web to titillate and amuse you.

So let us proceed.

And with that, fine friends and fanatic followers, I shall finalize this week of friskiness and folly and put a "finis" on it.

Now, let's all get out there this weekend and have a Fabulous Fourth.

Well at least those of y'all in the Yew-nited States of Amurrica.

I invite the rest of you to also have a great weekend.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

TALES OF THE CARIB

 

Chili's calls it a Caribbean Salad.

Judy calls it "Mmmmmmmmm".

A STORMY SKY

 

And a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

RE-THINKING

 The birds that visit our back yard are a constant source of pleasure and ofttimes amusement.

For example, this sequence involving one of the doves.

I first spotted him on the wall contemplating a brief flight to the birdbath for a drink.

I grabbed a camera and was rewarded with this shot as he changed his mind, midflight.

Rather than landing, he aborted his mission and flew back to the wall.

I'm not sure what frightened him but a bit later I saw another dove marching around on the ground and the sight of a potential competitor may have been the reason.

At any rate, he sat on the wall for awhile before flying away.

Dare I ask if his mien depicted consternation or embarrassment?

SMOKE

 Firefighters are slowly, very slowly, getting a handle on the Raphael fire north of here.

We are in no danger except for the incredibly smoky skies.

Here's what it looks like this afternoon.

That photo doesn't really do it justice.

Here's the view toward the town with the Bradshaw Mountains to the south nearly being obscured.

It's a stinking mess with the north wind blowing the smoke down to us and, I read yesterday, even 80 miles further south into Phoenix.

HE'S OUTA HERE

After a quick dip in the pool, this robin is gone. 

A NEW SCOTT

 We had a visit recently from Judy's firstborn, Scott, from Indiana.

We often say that he looks different each time we see him and this year was certainly no different.

Not only has his hair and beard gone snow white but three braids or "pom-poms" hung down from his face.

Though I teased him, calling him "the Rabbi", he said he's received many compliments from ladies about them.

He said his beard is bristly and irritates his neck so he braided it to keep it away until it gets longer.

It was a new idea to me but lo and behold just a few days later I encountered an elderly man in a grocery store who also had a snow white beard with a braided ball of hair hanging from his chin.

At any rate, here's the matriarch with two of her tribe of three.

PRISMATIC LIGHT

 

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 

Have a good weekend and always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(---)

 

NEW SEATING

 When you get to be our age (the 80's, for those who care) life becomes somehow more simple.

The Wisdomatics would have you believe otherwise.

They'd say things like "Do you have a will?" or "Who's going to take care of you?" or "What will you do if you have to go to a hospital?" or some blather like that.

But if, like us, you're in "fairly" good health and most of your bills are paid and you have an excellent family provider in the neighborhood, your cares become much smaller.

Like, "Damn, these chairs are uncomfortable!"

We bought them less than ten years ago but for some reason the padding on our derrieres seems to have thinned in that time.

They were patio chairs, part of what SWMBO insists is called a Bistro Set.

But they were metal, hard like steel, and the pads on them had ceased to provide comfort.

Plus the arm-rails were harder than they used to be.

Do you know what I mean?

So she began "researching".

(That's what she insists on calling "shopping.")

And she found some plastic Adirondack chairs at a local store and sent me to buy them.

Which I did.

But when they arrived, after a day or so of trying them, she found that not only are they difficult to drag these old bones out of, they were still a tad less than comfortable to our backsides.

So she "researched" some more and found some chair pads.

Which arrived today, delivered to our door, thank you very much, retailer.

And here, without further ado, though I have wasted much "ado" up until now, they are.

Pretty snazzy, eh?

(Joeh, "snazzy" is another term from the Bowery Boys lexicon. It means "fab" or "rad" or, just, "cool.")

So there you are.

New chairs.

New pads.

New comfort.

Happy Fathers' Day.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 Didya miss me?

Sorry I wasn't here yesterday but I had lunch with the BRD and as oft happens when we get together I just lost all touch of time.

Well it's been awhile.

There's been a pandemic.

I've been kept in my home.

And there was some really good beer in that alehouse.

So gimmee a break, willya?

All right, enough of that Bowery Boys language.

Let's get on with what you *all* came here for - the pre-weekend phunnies.

First off, for my pal Jager, who is celebrating (?) his 76th birthday today:

Sorry, RvK.

You may have noticed a slightly more intellectual tilt to the Funnies this week.

Please forgive me, I had pedantic friends in my life.

At any rate, have a lovely and lasting lollapalooza of a weekend and always . . . ALWAYS . . . remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . .

(uh-oh, this looks like trouble . . .)

SWEET

 

It is time to indulge with guilt or shame.

Today is National Fudge Day!

This is one cloyingly sweet treat on which She Who Must Be Obeyed and I disagree.

She cannot abide the deliciousness of this (usually) wintry treat and I love it.

Which makes a certain Christmas gift that arrives every year mine, all mine!

When I was a wee lad in Frozen North Dakota there was always plenty of fudge produced from the kitchen of my mother, as well as mothers all around town.

So I grew up eating Chocolate Fudge.

And the snow white and even sweeter Divinity.

And a sort of butterscotch flavored one called Penuche.

I have recently learned that SWMBO dislikes butterscotch too.

This revelation came as she was tucking into a bowl of Heath Bar Ice Cream, which is described as "chunks of real HEATH bar nestled in toffee-flavored Breyers with a sweet caramel swirl for a dessert that can't be beat."

Now I ask you, Gentle Readers, how can she can devour that stuff with relish but she can't stand Fudge?

But never mind, it just makes my holidays with St. Nick all the better.

100+

 The heat is on.

As I'm typing this the Weather Gods are telling me it is 104 degrees F. outside my air conditioned home.

I remember moving to Phoenix back in July of 1972 and learning that the word used for air conditioning there was "refrigeration".

It's 113 down there right now, aiming for 116 later today.

120 degree days are predicted to be coming soon.

And, as SWMBO says, "it's only June!"

When I lived survived down there this is what a dream was like.

Show me water!

Get me to an ocean beach!

I learned yesterday of a Colorado-based friend who is on a houseboat trip on Lake Powell up near the Arizona-Utah border where the temperatures daily have been in the low hundreds.

Judy's son allegedly is heading this way from Indiana for a visit right now.

I keep thinking of that Jay Leno question to Hugh Grant after the actor got caught in a compromising situation: "What the hell were you thinking?"

When the evening cocktail hour on the patio arrives, after the temperature has cooled to the slightly more acceptable 90's, the dreams are perhaps a bit more surreal than those ancient Phoenix musings.

Those Weather Gods tell me we're under an Excessive Heat Warning for the rest of the week.

That's a gentle way of putting it.

I say, "It's Arizona. It's damned hot!"

IT'S A GRAND OLD . . .

Today is another birthday for my old buddy Baseball Steve.

I won't embarrass him by telling you which one but let's just say that he is a little bit somewhat younger than me.

It's also a special day for we residents of the U.S. of A.

So Happy Birthday, Steve, and Happy Flag Day to all those of you who share my country.

But therein lies a story.

 

Judy had to go see her eye doctor today.

Not knowing if her eyes would be dilated or not, I drove her to his office.

She was back in the bowels of the medical world for about an hour or so but when she came out she said her eyes hurt.

I, the caring husband, panicked and asked her what was the matter, what had they done to her in there, did we have to race to the hospital, etc. etc.

She said her doctor was going to send a picture to me.

Growing ever more fearful, I asked "Of what? Of your eyes? What's wrong???"

She said "Oh, you'll see once you get the picture."

And pretty soon, I *did* get the picture, in more ways then one.

I'm sharing it with you now.

Brace yourselves.

In case you can't make it out, his trousers are royal blue, matching the blue behind the stars on his necktie.

Judy said his nurse commented "You're lucky you weren't here a few months ago. On St. Patrick's Day!"

THE HEART . .

 

 . . of a Marigold.

Really!

VS DAY

 Let it never be said that we are too old to learn anything new.

Last Friday . .

that is, a week ago yesterday, on this blog's hilarious (he said) weekly compendium of comedy there was one that said . . well, let me just show it to you again.

Yesterday morning, a week after I posted that, my wife's telephone rang.

In the other room.

(Doesn't it always work that way?)

She, like myself, is of an advanced age now and, like myself, doesn't move as fast as she once did.

So after, hurrying (for what that word means nowadays) to the other room she answered the phone and was greeted by a chirpy female voice saying "Hello, how are YOU today?"

Not recognizing the voice but recalling a lesson learned a week previously, my lovely wife responded with "Fine but speak up please. We're on the air."

The chickie-poo (for that's what she sounded like) said "What? What did you say?"

My wife responded sweetly "Speak up, please, we're broadcasting."

The line went dead.

And that's why I call her "She Who Must Be Obeyed".

And that's why I declare June 11th to be V-S Day.

VICTORY OVER SPAM!!!