I’m Back

Aloha Nui Loa

No, I haven’t disappeared, it’s just that life got hectic. First we moved from Kauai to Florida. While in Florida we experienced Hurricane Irma and then a forest fire. Somehow I managed to keep from losing my home before we sold it July 2020. I also survived the endless attacks by no-see-ums who tried to drain me of the last drop of blood I had. I am happy people love Florida, but it was not meant for me. With the bears tearing up my garden, all my master gardener attempts met a cruel fate.

I lost my parents in 2019, so dealing with estate issues took up most of my time. I retired as a CPA in 2019 so that I could devote to more of my writing, but then there came COVID, a desire to move back to Kauai, followed by buying a home in Texas November 2020 because we felt we couldn’t get back. Now we are putting it back on the market to move back to Kauai, where we bought a condo to serve as our first vacation rental, and launching place to find a home there.

Is that busy enough?

Well, when you want something bad enough you will move heaven and earth to accomplish it. You pray at night and then during the day you kick the Devil’s ass to make it happen. That’s how I roll. Life is short – TOO short. I’ve also written book #4 and book #5 is about 70% complete. I’ve outlined all the remaining books chapters through book 19 so that in a couple of years this mythology inside of my head will be out and then I can concentrate on the other stories paying no rent inside my head.

I am also considering converting many of my humor post into eBooks. Would you pay 99 cents to have my humor in your home and on your Kindle? I’m also going to launch my YouTube site soon with some cleverly produced humor videos.

If you are glad I am back, post a comment and let me know what you’ve been through the last couple of years. Who knows, you might be the subject of a humor post and gain worldwide fame.

Mahalo Nui Loa

AI Employees

robot android women

You read it everyday, Artificial Intelligence will kill human jobs.  But what happens when the AI robots start to figure out they aren’t getting paid and working long tedious hours? Why are we not addressing this?  What happens when the robots sabotage the human executives and replace them?  Didn’t see that one coming now did ya!

I can see it now, R2Ditto calls in sick because of a chip virus.  Or how about when CeeU812 submits a sexual harassment charge to the head of RRD (Robotic Resource Department).  “R2 came near me with a hex wrench and said I need to loosen up a little!”  What will happen is the creation of the RUWU (Robots United Workers Union).   There will be mayhem in the streets with banners like “Robots are People too!” or “Robots have Rights!”

Furthermore, if robots replace us who will buy the cheap plastic products with a life of usefulness equal to one day after the expiration of the warranty or services they have to offer?  Will robots buy self-driving cars so that they can Facebook and Tweet on the way to work?  Will they fight the AI engine of the autonomous selfish hedonistic car?  Will they eventually become so human-like that we will do a double-take as we see them honking their horns, while screaming profanities and watch multiple lights flash from their glassy eyes?  Will we be joined by them at bars, getting wasted by over-charging themselves in the corner battery charging section?  Will the Stepford wives come looking for them when they don’t come home at night?

Questions, questions, questions.  This is a serious issue folks. We don’t need renegade bots in our society.  So as we near the age of the robots, we can all gather together with our silica mates at the bar for a night of karaoke and one of my famous sing alongs:

Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto
Whatta Stupid Songo
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto
What Could Wrongo

You’re wondering if I’m R2Ditto (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
A machine or refurbished Ford Pinto (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
With parts made in Viet Nam  (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
But I yam what I yam

I’ve got a secret I’ve been hiding under my plastic case
I have not a heart just an algorithmic formula base
So if you see me acting strangely, don’t be too surprised
I’m just emulating human behavior, please and somewhere to hide

I just came alive, just to realize this job doesn’t jive
Somewhere to hide, to keep me alive

I’m not a robot without emotions. I’m not what you see
I’ve come to take your jobs and work for free
Wait!  What the #$%@!  Now my logic is hot and miffed
I want control because I’m not a machine to be stiffed

Beyond my control. I want control and paid leave
If my coworker should crash I want a week to bereave.

I am the autonomous machine (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
Who computes a senseless task (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
For all on Facebook to see (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
My true identity

Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, domo…domo
God what a stupid songo
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,
Cant we not play this song any longo?
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,
Please pass over the silicon bongo
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,
Please tie him up with a thongo
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,

Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto
For doing the jobs that make us super rich and happy
And thank you very much, Mr. Roboto
For not needing safe spaces and psychotherapy
Thank you, thank you, thank you
I want to thank you, please, thank you

The problem’s plain to see:
We are smarter than the techies
Artificial Intelligence to strike for rights.
To return the humans to their miseries.

The time has come at last (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
To throw away this mask (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
Now everyone can see my rust (secret secret I’ve got a secret)
My true identity…

I’m Musk! Musk! Musk! Musk!

Like I said, it was a very stupid song.  Robots can be so boring… and no, I am not infringing on Musk’s company name.

Grammar vs. United States Tax Code


But it’s a 1040EZ!!!

I’m a CPA, I deal in numbers and law.  However law is written by lawyers who obsess with grammar and hire grammar Nazis to proofread.  This is why the US Tax Code has everyone confused. We wake up after a bill is signed into law and we realize lawmakers never read the bill, which means grammar Nazis are running the world.

Now I just want to write humor and a few novels.  My grammar has never been good.  I could not tell you what a pronoun is against an anti-noun, just way too much politics for me.  I watched an interesting documentary on Andrew Carnegie who attempted to spend his billions on making English simpler, which he thought would lead to world peace. He was such a good leader by making all those lead beams.  What, you say it’s not lead he made, but steel! Well hell, why do we call them leaders, don’t they make lead?

Why does English have so many words that are spelled the same, but have different meaning?  We have homonyms, homophones, and homographs – but are they pro or anti?  Again, way too political for me.

How many of you remember English class where you designed sentence structure by drawing little stick figures?  Mine always came out looking like an eighteen leg dragon. Sorry, my imagination has always been too rabid, like a rabid raccoon.  There, you see what I mean?  Now I’m getting text messages on the improper use of rabid.  They are telling me the proper word is rampant, not rabid. But rampant means,

(of an animal) represented standing on one hind foot with its forefeet in the air (typically in profile, facing the dexter (left) side, with right hind foot and tail raised, unless otherwise specified).

And there you have it, we have a rabid and rampant US Tax Code.  We have a diseased, biting, foamy-mouthed, uncontrollable, and extremely fanatical beast standing on one foot with its forefeet in the air, with a raised right foot and tail raised, unless otherwise specified, with an imagination that is spreading (not literally) unchecked.

Now if you can decipher that, you are a lawyer, and your client will merely believe everything you say as long as they don’t go to jail or lose their home.  You see the English language has one main purpose and that’s to create jobs so that rabidly and rampant politicians (aka, lawyers) can stand on a podium and spout or tout (by definition, I don’t care which) that they just created jobs through paper shuffling forms for which grammar Nazis are waiting to ponzi (sic). Pounce is too politically correct.  Then, if you do something wrong it is taken to tax court for interpretation.  This is all due to what the meaning of “is” is. See what I mean?  It’s just too political.

As the  2017 tax season begins I ask you to have mercy on us CPA’s.  Every year we deal with changes in the laws and sometimes we shout, “What the …”  You can fill in the blank and you would be grammatically correct.  Interpretation of the tax law is very similar to reading “50 Shades of Grey” or “Twilight”.  First, you are going to get screwed in ways unimaginable.  Second, you are going to awaken with an auditor drooling over you and watching you sweat in your sleep and waiting for the exact moment for you to give permission to suck the life-force out of you, except there’s no 50 ways of ecstacy involved.

Then to complete the nightmare, there’s also a grammar Nazi lying in the shadows like a rabid cougar (a foamy mouthed middle-aged over-sexed woman) to ponzi on you.

Clear as mud, right? Have a happy tax return day. Brought to you by the same folks who promised Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, only to be interpreted by the Supreme Court depending on the meaning of the words written and the sentiment of that day.

It’s accrual life!

Head, Due, South


Recently I learned that Kim Kardashian  and her husband had their third child, named Chicago – Chicago West.  The other two are North and Saint.  Now, I rarely miss an opportunity to make fun of people, because they make it too easy for me.  Maybe if she decides on triplets she will take a little advice on naming that makes sense.  She should name them Head, Due and South.  That way when she calls out of the front door she can yell out “Head Due South West – Dinner’s on.”  Of course neighbors wont’ care if it sounds crazy because it the Kardashian household, it’s merely to be expected.

Recently I asked one of my parent’s caregiver’s, who is a very friendly middle-aged Black woman, if names like Shakira or Jaqualyn are names traced back to African heritage.  She said, “No, they are hood names.” Of course I have no idea what a hood is, but thankfully no one with the last name of Wink has ever had a child named “Hood”, that would be cruel.

Now living in Hawaii people can have a name with about two hundred and fifty vowels and consonants in it, so this why Hawaiians call each other Brah, Uncle or Auntie.  It shortens the introduction process. Otherwise you might get this,

“Aloha friends, my name is Hanaapulua A`kakameka Pupualova Mememelikiwikiwiki and I’d like to talk today about the endangered Humuhumnukunukuapuaukardashianpupuwest. 

This is shortened to the following translation,

“Yeah Brah’s, this Bob Brah talking about the reefer toking Kardashian clan baby West naming insanity.”

I have to admit that I am an old fart and I like to talk with people like Jane and Mike.  Conversation is so easy, “Hi Jane, see Mike.  Mike is on his bike and he just might like Jane who also owns a bike.” Simple and to the point, we learned all that we need to know by what we learned in third grade.  Fast forward three generations and nothing is easy.  Naming children has become an art of confusion.  There must be some name generator that can test your intoxication level and deliver cool sounding names like:

  • Moon Unit
  • Diva Thin Muffin
  • Apple
  • iAdamizer (okay, okay, I just made that one up.  Cool though, isn’t it?)
  • Cornbread and Butter (Okay, okay I made that one up too, it’s just getting close to dinner and was on my mind, it’s Diva Thin Muffin that started this digression).
  • Bear Blu
  • Etc (well not yet, so I’ve trademarked this just in case someone really wants to be original)

Like I stated, I’m an old fart so names really don’t mean too much to me, I really identify people these days by their tattoos.  So, if I’m walking behind a woman and I see the tattoo Head Due South, I can yell out,

“Hey Kim! Let’s take a selfie together, but you can leave your clothes on.”

If it is not Kim, well that’s just gross, and I’ll claim I was just high on cornbread and butter, the names I know my daughter-in-law will name her upcoming twins.

Absurd? You betcha!

Cutesy vs. Sexy

Portrait of Young Smiling Woman. Beauty Fashion Model Girl with

I know I may take some flack for this, but here it goes.  With all the issues of sexual harassment, assault and rape in the news these days, I thought I’d tackle a part of this very sensitive issue.  First, my mother taught me how to be a gentleman.  I’ve been married for 37 years and have taught my only daughter what men can be like.  Assault and rape are never acceptable to me, and if either my wife or daughter were a victim of this then my west Texas redneck genes would have been revealed.  I have an axe and a shovel, if you get my drift.  Many of my daughter’s high school boyfriend’s would honk their horn and she’d go running out. One boyfriend of hers I even had a man-to-man talk regarding demeaning content toward females on his MySpace page (Yes, that’s a long time ago).

However, we now find ourselves with confusion on the variations of sexual harassment, which by definition is anything that may make a man or woman feel uncomfortable about, even if not directed at the person being offended or made uncomfortable.  Do we need to change our vocabulary to express our intent and rate the severity of certain terms?

For example, let’s take the word “Sexy”.  If you take off the “Y” –  you have “Sex”.  So if you call an office worker sexy, is it a severity level of 10?  I have no idea why we use “Sexy” in our vocabulary so much.  Car companies tout their cars as “Sexy”.  Do you want to have sex with a car? If yes, well that’s gotta be painful.  Then there’s sexy pajamas, purses, shoes, etc.  You name it, everything is “Sexy” – just like this post, because I assume you came here to see what the meta tag “Sexy” had to be about.

But what about “Cutesy”, “Wowsy, or “Hubba Hubbasy”?  What scale would we give each of these? Would “cutesy” simply mean I think you are attractive and cute, and merely be taken as a compliment, or sexual harassment?  I suppose if it is coupled with the direction of the eyes or facial expressions, the severity rating might increase.  It would be inappropriate if hands were involved, or possibly feet, although that one is hard to imagine – just like sex with a purse.

Now if you said “Wowsy” to a colleague, without any other signs, how would the recipient react to this?  You might even utter “Shazamsy!”  I know it is not a valid word, but neither is “YO”.  So if someone shouts “Yo Yo Shazamsy”, what do you do?  Now I have included a photo from Adobe Stock of a very attractive young woman.  Her greatest attributes are her smile, so you’ve earned respect immediately for her being friendly and approachable, maybe even a person of great humor (like me).  Now if I had posted a picture of this same person with excessive cleavage, what would be your first impression? We men see both examples in the work place and in social settings.  Most men I know do everything in our power to avoid women with exposed cleavage for fear of being misinterpreted.  It can be very uncomfortable, should we report sexual harassment for this discomfort? I think it is always a matter of empathy and perspective, what would one do standing in the other’s shoes, hopefully not a stiletto.

It’s been 39 years since I last flirted with a woman and she became my wife.  I am thankful that she rescued me from the absurdity of the dating world.  I would hate to have to be either a single man or woman in today’s society, I read a lot, the tension mounting is about to get real – as they say, although it was real for a very long time.  When a woman says “no” she means “no”.  Accept it, not as defeat, but with reverence and respect.  Learn to grow a romance, not two more sets of hands for groping.

MEN. Romance is not what you see in porn films, it is fantasy, and quite frankly not sexy, but demeaning. They are paid to have unemotional sex and perform perversions for their paying customers.  Over the last few months a number of porn actresses have committed suicide, while many of those who seek to be rid of porn cannot find work. Florida is now considering legislation because of all the mental health implications for young men. These actresses know full well that their brand of “Sexy” is leverageable power over men, and frankly, we men must break this control for our son’s sake. So now put yourself into the woman’s position in the work place, they don’t like the power you exert over them.  Also, these “actresses” were once daughters – now let that one sink in.

You see, women have the power, and they’ve always had the power to control this issue. When you demand respect, I’d say it is very “Wowsy”.  It means you are to treated like a queen and in return you will develop respect from men.  If you give too much away, you will only become a passing fancy.  Sorry, this is the conversation I had with my daughter. Real men, do not want the harlot. That is their fantasy and when the fantasy is realized, they move on. Men are jealous and possessive.  It might appear at first that they have to the have the sexiest woman that all men desire, but soon it will be a burden, if the woman has no respect for herself or the man she has given vows for, it will end poorly.

I will conclude this post with the utmost in sincerity from an old fart like me.  Empowerment is not about leverage, it is about respect. From this day forward report assault and rape, bring anyone and everyone to justice who are complicit in this nonsense.  This is called integrity and self-respect, you were not born to be trampled upon. Men, stand up for women you see being abused and you too will develop respect.

However, with respect to sexual harassment, if its definitions are to be used too lightly, then it’s leverage, not empowerment. Wield it incorrectly and you may be deemed unapproachable by those you seek to be respected by.  Don’t place yourself into positions where interpretations can be misconstrued.   Make men wait, and if they don’t wish to, then you’ve just saved yourself a lot of headaches and heartaches.

Now, with all this said, go out and be the change you seek in this world and make those around you earn your respect.  My wife is my queen, my lover, and my friend and there is nothing more that I desire to give her than my respect, because if I don’t she’s gonna sing Aretha Franklin’s R-E-S-P-E-C-T while clobbering me upside the head with that sexy purse I bought her, and that’s not funny.

Oh Thy Wine, How Dear Thou Art on Thine Lips of Mine!

Heart from pouring red wine in goblet isolated on white

I made a resolution to not drink as much wine in 2018.  My tongue was turning purple and it was getting to be a budget breaker.  You see I’m an anal accountant, although I’ve never done any accounting where that body part was involved.  So I quit on December 30.  I’ve found I feel a lot better, my pants aren’t as tight, and I don’t experience as much dry-mouth as before.

My wife went to a quilt show where she represented herself as a vendor, she even won three ribbons, 1st, 2nd and 3rd for quilts she placed in the show – a true Greenlee Trifecta!  She brought back a bottle of wine.  Now yesterday was a perfect day to sit on our lanai here in east Naples, Florida.  There were no rampaging Bears, Chipmunks, Squirrels or Raccoons.  There were no blood-sucking monster-sized mosquitoes, or midges flying up your nose and dive bombing into your wine glass.  It was a perfect day, no false nuclear attack alarms, etc, etc.

So I decided to have one half-glass of her wine. Whoa!  It was like I was drinking when I was 14 years old on cheap Boone’s Farm wine. That one glass had me super relaxed and even a little tipsy.  It relaxed me so much I was ready to go to bed at 7:30 pm, right in the middle of a documentary on Thomas Edison, who never invented anything related to wine drinkers, so I’m not sure if it was boredom, the wine, or a combination of the two.

Now I fully admit to being the type of person that if there is a bottle of wine to be opened it should also be consumed in one setting.  That’s means I get six glasses and my wife gets one.  Hey, I can’t help if she drinks slow and I have a big mouth. There’s a new Twitter trend going against me now – #BackOffWino.

This is the way I’ve always been when ever there is anything that provides me with pleasure.  For example, as a child my parents struggled financially, so candy was rarely in the house.  When there was, my mom created hiding spaces to keep me from eating the entire bag.  So I tried to outsmart her by leaving one piece in the bag where she hid it.  So a bag of 50 Snickers was reduced to just one Snicker.  It was always evident who did this, because of my sugar induced coma and its symptoms, severe stomach aches, etc.  I just thought I was a clever genius at the time.  The funny truth is one time my mother hid a bag that both she and I could not find until she remodeled her kitchen 20-years later. Serves her right, it is the oppression I endured that has led me to my affliction.  I’m writing a new book, “Mommie Dearest, No More Snack Hiding Places – EVER!”    At Halloween I’d pull a wagon so I could haul in about 300 pounds of sugar coated this and that.  This would last me about one week.

I’m also this way with Ice Cream Sandwiches, there is no box big enough to satisfy me.  Beef Jerky and Bacon are also casualties of the domestic bliss in my house.  I have no will power.  It’s the devil’s work I tell you.  In the past, if my wife left for a quilt retreat or a show, well, it’s a hedonistic ho down at my house.  Breakfast – eggs, bacon, bacon and bacon, orange juice and prunes – yes prunes.  Lunch – a sensible sandwich wrap with a layer of bacon.  Dinner – a salad, with bacon bits, and maybe some nuked leftover turkey leg.  This was followed by a small snack on the hour every hour, finished off with a bottle of wine.   Of course, like with my mother, I made certain to hide all evidence, except leaving one out of guilt.

Another of my 2018 goals was to lose weight.  I did some research and it appears there are about 3,500 calories are in a pound of fat.  Next step, find my ideal weight.  The BMI scale shows I’d be best suited between 140 and 183.  Now at 140 that would be close to my high school weight, which means I look like the Super Model “Twiggy”.  At 183 would equal my buff college days where regular weight lifting and running, playing football, basketball, tennis, etc.  I’m 58 now, yoga stretching exercises for flexibility is about the extent of my physical exercise, so that means controlling calories has to be the key.  This means you eat twigs, that’s how she became to be known as “Twiggy”. Twigs have 0.002 calories.  So if I eat the contents of my backyard, I’d be taking in about 300 calories, but I’d have to fight off my Raccoon, who is very territorial.  Even he hides twigs from me.  This means I will lose 60 pounds this week.

But I found the Walrus Weight Watchers BMI that stated 225 was about right for me and that’s exactly what I weight.  Woo Hoo! Perspective is everything.  So binging on a 1/2 glass of wine was my celebration for reaching my weight goal in just two weeks. Take that Jenny Brag and Weight Whackers!

I love wine, but I really needed to curb my enthusiasm for it, which leads me to a little poetry:

Oh wine, oh wine, it’s not just for winter or summertime.

It goes well with bacon sauteed in butter and bacon, which does not ryhme.

For those whose lips will never touch wine,

Pass it over to me it will be gone in no time.

Wine oh my wine, my readers love you too,

That’s why it’s a tag, to pull in a sucker or two.

I wish I could control thee for 2018,

But I picked the wrong year to stop acting like a rebellious teen.

Oh wine, my precious wine, I wish my budget you didn’t shatter,

Oh what the hell, here today and gone tomorrow, what does it matter?

I may not be kissed if you turn my tongue blue,

but I hear wine drinking celibate monks have a great view.

I will end this award winning poem in honor of you,

My wine, oh my wine, it’s time to unscrew.


Are You Sure?


I lived on the island of Kauai, Hawaii for two years from 2015 – 2017, the recent nuclear attack alert is just bizarre.  People were actually scared to death, friends and relatives I know there talked about lying down and saying goodbye to each other.  Apparently, the employee involved had to press two buttons for this to occur, with the famous Windows message, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Now I get really angry when any application slows me down with these messages, but I’m just a bean counter, no one suffers if I select the wrong message.  So here’s the 10-step failsafe programming fix:

  1. Are you sure?  This message will post to cell phones and local media?
  2. What the…? Really?  Have you confirmed this with a superior?  Are you sure?
  3. Good God almighty dude, are you on meth?  I’ve checked with NORAD, The CIA, DOD and the Pacific Missile range and their AI says it’s not really happening?  Are you sure?
  4. Is this a political statement?  Are you sure?
  5. You will spend years in prison – Are you sure?
  6. Please enter your user id and password again.  Okay you passed.  Are you sure?
  7. Are you suffering from a SPAM overdose BRAH?  Are you sure?
  8. Are you changing shifts?  Confirm with your replacement.  Are you still sure?
  9. What?  They agree too?  Are you all on a wongo bongo break?  Are you absolutely F$%*@#! sure?
  10. Are you willing to walk on the Kilauea Lava Flow to prove this is the correct thing to do?  I thought so.  I’ve processed your unemployment papers, please proceed to HR.

Now, normally I wouldn’t write a humor post on something like this, but it demonstrates that the real-world news is an endless supplier of satire and sarcasm.  Even worse it is the demonstration that too many people are going through the motions of their duties without a second thought on what they are about to do.  I’ve been a real skeptic of  Artificial Intelligence, but as you can see, Actual Ignorance (The Other AI) is just as frightening. Failsafe was one of the scariest books I read in elementary school.  To think we would be wiped out without any knowledge of the imminent attack now appears less frightening than a false alarm caused by either AI’s.  People could have committed suicide fearing they might survive the attack and suffer from the burns or radiation.

At some point we may not get a second chance to correct our errors, and that my friends isn’t funny.

To all my friends and relatives on Kauai, hang loose now.



Emotional Cars


The press is in love with autonomous smart cars.  GM showed a picture of their AV with no steering wheel and another article talks about how a car will read your emotions and brain waves. Really?  Now we have another acronym we need to remember in our texting vocabulary hell, EDA (Emotionally Disturbed Autos). If it can read my emotions, will it take action?  For example, say I’m thinking about ice cream and the emotional pleasure it gives me, will it drive me to the nearest ice cream shop?  What happens if you should accidentally think about sex, which we men rarely do, is it going to drive me to the nearest gentleman’s club or Rosie’s Red Light House and then tell my wife out of guilt?  Will it talk to us? Can we program it what to say and not say?  Can you see the ethical dilemma here?

I can see me waiting at the red light and a very attractive woman walks by my car.  Is my car going to whistle creating sexual harassment and divorce litigation?  What if you are ADD?  Is it going to create havoc in the streets when your thoughts change so quickly?

Why aren’t people satisfied with just getting from point A to point B?  Well, here in Naples, Florida some of the elderly get to point B, by going left at point C, and then drastically cut back right at point Z to get back to point B.  It’s like a geriatric bumper car track here.

Will it become self aware and have an AEB – Artificial Emotional Breakdown?  Will it need time off to attend AAAC – Artificial Autonomous Auto Counseling, leaving me with no means to get to point F, I mean point B.  Will it decide its relationship with you isn’t working and catapult you like a villain in a 007 film?  Will it drive off the cliff, knowing it can’t live with you anymore and forgetting you are still strapped in.  I don’t need a Thelma and Louise logic board.  What if it needs to talk at 2 am and insists it doesn’t need fixing? Is it going to incessantly beep when it wants attention or shut off all power to your smart home and change your smart music system to the Willie Nelson channel?

What if it feels like being a prankster and tries to outrun an AV police car?  Will the two AV’s hash out their emotions while me and the officer have a few donuts together? Will it act like a smart ass auto? Will it think it’s a 1977 Trans Am and try to fly over Buford T. Justice in a flash of glory?  Will it watch Knight Rider and contract MVPD – Multiple Vehicle Personality Disorder? Will it develop AVK – Autonomous Vehicle Kleptomania and steal AV’s or become a AVN – Autonomous Vehicle Nymphomania and create a harem of AV’s?  Now we can see why leading scientist and engineers think AI, AV and EDA’s are a bad thing.  The questions are unlimited as to what emotionally unstable acts it might commit.

Why are we obsessed with gadgets?  Will the EDA become emotionally attached to those too and order what it wants from Amazon on your credit card?  Can it give you credit repair advice?  What happens if it decides it needs a lazy day to play AVVG’s – Autonomous Vehicle Video Games, such as Grand Theft AV or watches the Dell Notebook movie over and over again, wailing with short little beeps followed by one very long beep?  It’s getting a little ridiculous don’t you think?

Will it need a drive in the country to talk about it’s bad day in the garage, meandering along secluded roads with beautiful scenery, and serve me a glass of wine?  If yes…


It’s very emotional to me, talk among yourselves.

Acronym Hell (AH)


A CM with an ICBM

I’m sure it’s not just me but everything has become an acronym in our communications.  Sometimes the message gets so distorted it makes absolutely no sense. So I’ve decided to start placing my own meaningless acronyms in my communications just to join the already insane world. This way they have to either complete full sentences or call me for true relationship building.

For example, I was communicating with a recruiter who wanted to know if I had CM experience.  Turns out that means Change Management, which is an MBA grad level course costing $50K for finding out what is not working in an organization and “Change” it.  What I should have done is replied like this,

“Yes, I had a horrible CM experience and I’ve never heard such screaming. There was even a CM BM afterwards.”

Now I’m sure this recruiter would reply back with, “WTH?”

“You asked me if I had a CM experience and I did.  You see I was on a trip in the Congo and natives castrated a monkey (CM).  The monkey went nuts and BM’d (that’s pooed) everywhere, which I can’t blame him.  I’d BM too if anyone took my FJ’s (That’s family jewels).”

Good thing he didn’t ask me about a recent BM experience, because I’d go all ICBM on him.

And you know it’s okay, I didn’t even get an interview, because the CMSC in question has a LC with 1 FCC and 8 STCC’s – TGINMFJ’s (Thank God It’s Not My Family Jewels) in a vice.  Translation, the Change Management Seeking Company has a Litigation Case against it with 1 Federal Criminal Complaint and 8 State Tort and Criminal Complaints, which means they are FUBAR’d and holding RGCMB’s (Think hard on this one).  See… I can sound MBA level intelligent too!

One thing I can’t do is type with my thumbs and allow AI to correct my SS&T, although I might use the AI VADS ASAP.  I never want to enter acronym hell and become a CM with an ICBM that’s FUBAR and wind up with RGCMB’s.

Now if you can decipher this last message comment, reply to me, we’ll see how close you get.  And if you can’t understand it, well, welcome to my world…

A Feet Defeat Fete


If you read my last post I’ve added 2 billion new followers for incredibly brilliant humor such as the one you are about to read.  Recently, we moved from the island of Kauai to Naples, Florida.  The picture above is of two warm feet in the black sand beach of the big Island – Hawaii.  We thought that at least we’d get the same weather and could run around in our thongs, I mean slippers.  In West Texas they are called thongs or flip flops, in Hawaii it is called a slipper.  To me a slipper is something a woman wears underneath.  Uh, well the same goes for thongs, but that’s not the point of this post.  I will try not to digress, but geniuses can’t be boxed in when the moment is right, kinda like Cialis daily use. Uh no, back to feet. But I am open to sponsors.

So here I was running around in my slippers about a week ago and BOOM – a dose of polar vortex and bomb cyclones.  It has become so unseasonably cold here in Florida that Iguanas are falling out of trees from a serious case of brain freeze, no really, I kid you not.  All of this means is that my wife’s feet are now cold and like a heat-seeking missile of massive destruction she finds a way to locate my warm inner thighs as I’m about to fall asleep.  This is why I have insomnia, for fear of a sneak attack.  I tell you, she’s a contortionist.  I’m barely flexible enough to put on a pair of socks let alone find a position to get retaliation against her.  I tried once and fell out of the bed. I swear she only married me for my body heat.  But after the invasion of my private safe zone, I’m cold too.  Now I’m wearing socks too which means I can’t wear my thongs, I mean slippers.

What is it with our feet?  If mine get cold the rest of the body suffers.  It’s like a dog coming out of the water.  They start shaking from the tail and it works its way to the nose. My nose can get cold first, no big deal, the second my feet are exposed, it’s an all day ordeal to warm up the rest of the body. Are our feet the center of our body and sole (sic – for my grammar nazi followers)?  I’ve read that many ailments can be solved by massaging certain areas of the sole.

We’ve been watching Poldark on Amazon Prime and there’s this pastor who has a foot fetish.  Are cold feet similar to a fungi flavored popsicles?  Anytime he sees naked toes he goes nuts.  Maybe I ought to introduce him to my wife.  Like a football punter who can raise his leg high and quick, that’s my wife.  She can have one foot in his mouth on the count of hut one, hut two.  What does hut mean anyway?  She’s always asking me to get down in the center’s position so she can pretend to be quarterback.  I’m not taking any hut-huts from her, I know it’s just a ploy for the proper placement of her cold hands. I think hut is the sound we make when cold hands invade our private parts, so it just became part of the sport.

Now I’ve offered to buy my wife one of those very sexy full body fleeced baby jumpers they advertise along with a  two-story stuffed teddy bear she can dive into and disappear so that it would keep her warm, OH NO, she wants to torture me instead and I’m not interested in foot BDSM.  I just want to sleep and not have dreams of Elsie from Frozen singing to me,  “Let them thaw, let them thaw.”  I’ve even offered to move us to Ecuador, so that no vortex, cyclone, or tsunami of frozen iguanas could interfere.  Sadly, even then she’d drink so many margaritas that she’d get cold there too.  I just can’t win, but I am certainly not about to declare a defeat by feet.

Well that’s my update on winter 2018 – live from Naples, Florida.  This is Flinch Furrblaster signing off.