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.

 

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Are You Sure?

Cliff

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

EIEIO-Small

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…

WELL HELL, I’M ALL IN!

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

Acronym Hell (AH)

chimp

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

AE01

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.

200K Followers Guaranteed

Puppy

#Puppy #Ransom

Remember when Twitter was having difficulties, but now it’s back big time?  I joined Twitter to sell books and direct traffic here to my humor posts.  I only have 4K followers, but noticed that new followers are always direct messaging me on how to gain thousands of followers for a few bucks.  They have about 190K followers, other members also trying to sell you followers, which means followers are following followers.  I’ve also noticed that Twitter is now hyper-political and hyper-nasty, the more nastier your comments the more your followers, hmmm…

So with his in mind, here are a few guaranteed nasty post techniques to get you more followers than you ever imagined possible.  No matter what party affiliation you are, play both sides, because then each side will follow you to see what you will say next.

  1. “Oh yeah, well I have your #puppy held for #ransom.” Attach cute puppy meme.  Everyone loves puppies.  They’ll read this and whisper, “What the ….” and then look at your profile and send a follow request.  Pound Puppy was my son’s favorite toy as a infant and toddler so I have an emotional attachment to this. PETA will also follow you, the ASPA, Humane Society, etc.  #Ransom will have every crime prevention organization noticing you and following to see if you are actually Guido Chapo, the notorious Italian Mexican crime lord.  Crime Cartels will follow you to see if they can get into your cartel due to your popularity.  See how this works?  All of a sudden politics and the Kardashians will be usurped and supplanted.
  2. “Your #mother was a #hamster and your #father an #elderberry #bush!”  Again, this is a “What the ….” lead generation tool. Attach sweet little old mother and father photo.  Everyone loves their mother and father, possibly a Hamster that was accidentally flushed down the toilet, sweet elderberries, and a nicely shaped but inexpensive shrubbery.  If they correlate #Bush with the president Bush, then there you go, fire up the angst or support and gain 100,000 followers hanging on your next comment.
  3. #Spigot #Gracious #Tater #Promophobe.  Set people really on fire with these jewels.  It’s proven fact that words can launch a war, even if there is no context to those words. Even words that sound like words that ignite hate can be used to fool someone.  One side will love you and other side will hate you, who cares, 200,000+ followers guaranteed.  Yes, I have a fear of promotional ads and taters. Eh.. what’s taters presicousss, what’s taters?  I do a great Gollum impersonation, but I digress.
  4. “U R #Stupid so #Stupid U R #Stupidier than the “Stupidiest”  This will attract all the grammar nazi’s, summa cum laudes, and those with Phd’s who feel compelled to fulfill something meaningful in life by exorcising you of your lack of intellect and vocabulary demons, word usage, sentence length, semi-superlative phobopronouns, etc. Yes I have a fear of pronouns too.
  5. #Laugh be #Happy #Damnit Then there are those who simply want to stay enraged, so any suggestion of laughter or happiness will enrage them any further.  They follow if only to post #FU, but hey it’s still a follower.
  6. It’s only #Politics #God bless u  Finally, both sides live and breathe politics, one side is anti-God and another pro-God, so you’ve got both sides covered now arguing with each other over your post, forgetting who you ever were – what a blessing.

As you can see you will have 160 billion followers in no time.  What?  You say there is only 7.6 billion people in the world.  You forget all the fake accounts they sell you generated by an AI engine looking for all the hashtags above and those who flock to the ones with the most retweets and likes.

As you can see, I will do just about everything to sell my books.  Please #Retweet this and I promise not to #DM you, I have a fear of that too, may #God help me.  Oh look, two new followers!

 

2018 Changes in Weather Reporting

BabyFart3

A Bomb Cyclone Blast Victim

Here we go again.  In the course of human history we always look for a way to make something appear new, appealing, or interesting by simply giving it a new name.  Case in point, we now have a winter bomb cyclone.  A what?  I’ve been on this planet for 58 years and never heard of such a thing, why now?  Because weather is a boring as accounting, so they have to spice it up.  Now if we referred to weather phenomenon with flatulence related terms you’d have viewers every day, high advertising revenues and richer corporations.  Let me give you a few examples:

“Hi folks, it’s Skip Winksmelter with your weekly forecast.  We are expecting a Canadian triple flutter blast this week.  The first flutter will be on Wednesday, followed by the second flutter on Thursday.  Friday is expected to be the worst of the triple blast leading to a weekend for cleaning up the mess.”  Now Skip’s real name is Harvey Williams… boring.

“Hello folks, it’s Izza Beanmasher and we are expected a surge from a Mexican back end back draft on Friday.”  Now surely you’d want to know what that is going to be about and plan your weekend accordingly.

“Hey guys, it’s Frankie Furkfurter just telling you to watch out for the arctic booty bomb cyclone coming your way. It could be dangerous!”

“Folks, it’s Jack Reeker letting you know a lake effect two cheek sneaker is on its way. Accumulations are expected to be deep.”

“Viewers, this  is Flapp Finkelflower advising you that a Florida two lap thunder thumper flapper has about an 80% chance of building up under a very high pressure dome this coming Monday.”

“Clyde Curdlemeister here with a quick update on the atmospheric three layer cheese cloud maker.  Just look at the bands on the radar there it is clearly, the hook broccoli formation.  Please stay indoors to avoid injuries to your eyes and lungs.”

Well I could go on and on with this, but I’ve given everyone involved with enough information to boost revenues and ratings.  And I never get paid for all this genius humor writing.

Childish and sophomoric? You betcha… hey, pull my finger and see what weather develops.