You Shall Not Pass – I Double Daughter Dare you!


We all recall the great words of Gandalf the White’s famous words to the Balrog – “You Shall Not Pass.”  Wait, no, that’s actually from Monty Python’s Holy Grail.  Wait, no, that’s not it either.


The point is that this applies to the household of Famous Hamish.  Just a short while back my daughter dared me to create posts around photographs.  She just didn’t realize that in secret I was learning Photoshop. Bwahahahahaha.

I am a protective father, so if you decide you wish to pass and court my Courtney, then let me establish Famous Hamish’s daughter dating rules:

  1. You must have a great bass fishing boat.  [Send Photo of Boat]
  2. Stocked with ice cold beer. [Send Amples of Samples]
  3. Pay Homage to Famous Hamish [$100,000]
  4. Pull your pants up or put on a kilt.
  5. Keep your hands off the huge tracts of land, or it will be more than a flesh wound.
  6. Have her home by 8:00 p.m. along with amples of samples.
  7. You must have an MBA, a 10,000 square foot castle; and a nice, but not too expensive, shrubbery.
  8. You must be able to hold down Famous Hamish’s Hot Hurled Haggis for 30 seconds, while doing a one-legged potato sack race, knitting a kilt and playing the bagpipes.
  9. Gene testing.

That’s all. Trust me she is worth every perilous haggis hurling moment.  Unless your name is Herbert, then you my boy, shall not pass.  For I am the servant of the secret Photoshop, wielder of the quick selection tool, destroyer of dashingly daring dating dunderheads.

Do you have, or did your father have some rather strict or absurd dating rules?


To Hair is Human

I may  have mentioned 1,000 times that I am 53 years old.  I remember a day when hair on men was considered manly.  Remember Tom Selleck?  My best friend was loaded with chest hairs and attracted all the girls.  Envious as I was, I shaved my chest to grow hair.  Could I grow hair, no way.   Shaving was useless, because I was already clean shaven.  Fast forward to my son, who is now a very handsome man, with a lot of chest hairs, and what does he do?  He shaves it all, and I mean, ALL of his body hair off! He is even having it surgically removed.  I could have saved him money. I have an excellent high speed sander in my garage.

This ain’t right!  What genes did he get that are mocking me?  Nowadays guys and girls shave everything off except on their head.  Everywhere else has to be hairless, like a Chihuahua.

My Son

My Son

I credit this to the influence of the Internet.  Everyone was just going along being human, until some advertiser or adult movie star caught our kids attention.  Somehow being human was bad and disgusting.   Yet, muffin tops, tramp stamps and sagging pants became cool and sexy.  Music that you once could hug and dance to, became beats that you could, well, beat to.  Lyrics like “Love to love you baby,” were replaced with “Yo, @%&*%@ $^%^ !@&**&*#% Yo, Yo, Yo, Walk the Dog, Yo-Yo.

Instead of cars that had muscle and a reasonable 8-track system, we now have super modified foreign lawnmowers, with a sound system designed for 250,000 people.  I kid you not, some kid “slow rides” down our street and I can see my ear drums popping outside of my head, along side my eyeballs.  The glass on the kid’s lawnmower is bending to the beat and trees begin to sway, my golden retriever howls in pain.  My heart is pounding so hard, that I involuntarily shake and convulse like a Michael Jackson video. Hee Hee – Jump on Shamone!

Now back to hair.  Remember the hair days of the 70’s and 80’s when ladies spent all day Friday, just to dance on Saturday nights?  Do you remember those wildly and awesome spandex outfits they wore, as we guys chased them around the dance floor?  Do recall all those hair bands, where the towering hair made the guys ten feet tall and chest hairs exploded from their wide open spandex shirts?  It was all about the HAIR!  I still have the same style I wore back in 1979.  Hey, it works for me.  I also have more chest hairs now than ever before, although they are turning gray and translucent , so you still can’t tell I have any, and my wife could care less.  Although I did grow my beard back and used a little hair mascara at the advice of my hair stylist.  How did my wife like it?  Let me put it this way – I am buying a case of the stuff.

My point is that life is absurd. What was hip and cool yesterday, ain’t today.  There is one thing I do know with certainty that in the end we can all agree on.  One day we will all be fighting ear, nose, neck, belly-button, runaway eyebrow hairs or any other geographical spot on your body you don’t want hair.


Wally, the Wooly Wookiee

To hair is human; Nair for men, divine.  Here’s a flashback.

Oh, how I miss the ladies of the eighties Grrrr… Woof Woof!  Sorry, the beast has been unleashed.

Now ladies, imagine your man in such a commercial.  Yeah, I thought so.  Bring back the Sasquatch.  Okay, since I am such an ancient alien, please explain the obsession with body hair.

The New Laptops – Version 44DD.1


So you thought this was going to be about computers, didn’t you?  Nope it’s about women’s breasts implants.  Now I am a 53 year old man who has seen breast implant technology  from version 1.1 to our current versions.  They once looked normal and inviting, today they look like nuclear torpedoes and so frightening.  Hey, that rhymes!

Each year the breasts seem to get higher, sturdier and more unnatural.  Soon the breasts will be so high, ladies will have to peek out from behind them.  For us guys this is okay for a variety of reasons, but the most advantageous is that we can finally look you in the eyes, with a great big smile.  Until that day arrives the current versions create an artificial human chest shelf.

You’ve heard of shelf butts, well I call these new breast implants, Laptops – Version 44DD.1 These new devices are for lapping or scraping in food into the mouth without a plate.  At first I thought this was part of the female code to attract men, but it is in fact, the newest method to decrease the amount of water used in dish washing.  Women all take showers or baths right? (well, we hope)  So there is no need to waste extra water or have costly China and China cabinets.  They replace the need for TV trays, while dancing with Bobby and Boobs airs.

You think I am kidding don’t you?  Some of you ladies are already using your nuclear weapons as trash compactors and demolition wrecking balls.  I have proof!  I swear you can’t make this stuff up. Watch here.

Wow, America sure does have A LOT of intellectual talent!  So next time you hear a well endowed woman talk about a man’s brains being relocated elsewhere, be sure to link them to this video.

Now this may sound strange but I’m a hair man.  I love long brunette hair, so my wife is really lucky I found her.  So what does she do, she cuts it short.  For over 20 years she often pondered if she should get a new laptop, because she was never naturally endowed, and deflated even more after two breast feeding vampires for children, so she thought she was due an upgrade.  At the time I wanted her to have self-esteem, until we saw the laptop’s price and some news shows on the damage done by defective laptop manufacturers and installers.  That’s when I decided China wasn’t such a bad investment, not the country, the dish set. So we compromised.  She gets a new kitchen and I wash the dishes.

I also crush the beer cans for recycling and do the remodeling demolition. Hey, I have finally found I have a natural talent and use for my man boobs – Training Version 1.A, strapless.

Disclaimer:  I ran this through my wife’s editorial expertise on women.  She suggested that it might offend women who have had breast cancer.  Please know this, my mother had a double mastectomy when I was 14.  She handled her loss very well, when my father said he didn’t marry her for her breasts. She never wanted implants and wore pads or falsies.  She would even has us rolling on the floor laughing with her humor about this issue. Much of my inner spirit is derived from her strength, and much of my insane humor is also from her.  From my father, I inherited the best of what men should be. If this post offends a single woman, I sincerely apologize. My only goal is for people to have  a laugh, even at the expense of oneself, because life is hard enough in this breast obsessed world we now live in.

To be or not to… wait, what was the question?

Every so often someone on Facebook will post a photo for the sake of laughing at absurd generations past.  Today’s post was no different.  Do you recall the great mullet outbreak?

The McMeth's

The McMeth’s

That’s right, the great mullet outbreak of the late 1980’s.  Everyone in the family had to get in on the act – of insanity.  These people either have the brain the size of a sheep, or are on massive intake of drugs and moonshine (Hillbilly Napalm).

For example, our lovely family above, the McMeths; are Milly Jay, Billy Ray and little Billy Jay Ray.  Don’t they just look sassy in denim and leather trim?  So sweet, they just achy-breaky my hearty.  I was trying to figure out which camera they were staring at, as it seems all three of their eyes are fixated at a different directions.  It’s so cute, little Billy Jay Ray has a macho shark tooth necklace to show off all his little chest hairs, of which he inherited from Milly Jay.

I can’t tell but I really think Billy Ray is saying something like a recitation from MacBeth, only in hillbilly twang and composition:

To be, or not to be, uh what is duh question?
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Crutches of outrageous welfare,
Or to take hams against a double-wide of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, with sheep
No more; and by a sheep, to say we end
The Achy breaky Heart-ache, and the thousand therapy shocks
That Flesh is hairy too? ‘Tis a saucy consummation
Devoutly devoured to be wished. To die to sheep,
To sheep, perchance with butter cream; Aye, there’s the dry BBQ rub,
For in that sheep of death, what dreams may come…

Billy Ray then awakens, puts on his coke bottle thick tri-focals with tinted technology and realizes he can’t read,  “Sleep?  What the …?  I thought it said Sheep.  Well heck, no wunder it made no sense.”

Isn’t it comforting that some trends just die off and the next generation of conforming nonconformist arrive to show how far we have progressed as a species?


The Painters

Welcome the absurd human family. One family’s fashion is another family’s shivers. Maybe Billy Ray wasn’t so blind after all, maybe it was about sheep.  Only Monty Hamlet knows for sure.


Thank heavens for diversity, it gives us a reason to make fun of each other.

Ginger or Mary Ann – Part Deux

A blogger was curious if all men have a fantasy island, where the only thoughts are of food and sex?  She was referring to my first post on the philosophical question of Ginger or Mary Ann?


I mentioned the F5 gene of most men, which are :

  1. Food
  2. Football
  3. Fixing things
  4. Fooling around, which leads to
  5. Fatherhood.

Yes, there you have it, the only gene needed in the life cycle of the single-celled organism known as man.

Now this female blogger, who operates the blog site Free UR Closet, and who only thinks about clothing and wine, stated her husband and son replaced the 3rd trait above with “Freakin Selective Hearing.”  Usually this is a trait that comes much later in life when the last three traits above disappear.

However, the purpose of this post is to philosophically and rationally discuss what if Mary Ann took the drink, and I was left with Ginger the Movie Star, yet food and sex could not be entertained.  Now for you movie buffs, a CPA stranded on a desert island with a movie star would be reminiscent of the 1974 movie Swept Away, with Giancarlo Giannini and Mariangela Melato,  without the passion of course. See, some of us Okies are internationally cultured!  So let me give you an idea of how the scene would work.

Ginger would want to talk, and talk, and talk.  My job is only one thing – to listen, and listen, and listen.  She’d want to talk about her roles, and then about her hair, and slip in and out of fashions with the 16 suitcases where she freed HER closet and managed to salvage, with the age-old question, “Do I look fat in this?” A question no man should answer even with ten thousand men at his back, it is folly.

She’d want me to exfoliate her feet and bunions from pointy toed stilettos, massage her back with coconut oil, and have me place sea cucumbers over her eyes.  She’d want to redecorate the remains of the Minnow on a daily basis, “Can you please move the clam over there, it clashes with the beached whale? Is that carcass chartreuse? Oh no, that certainly won’t do.”  This is when the “Freakin Selective Hearing” trait begins its mutation and overtakes the “Fixing Things” trait.

I would be nothing more than a man-slave to my Fraulein movie princess prison guard.  If she happened to get chilled from the trade winds, she’d want to snuggle, like a body heat seeking vampire, and suck the warmth right out of me.  If it rained, I’d be the human umbrella. At this point, even being a raging heterosexual male, sex is definitely NOT on my mind, escape from Alcatraz IS.  I don’t care if I drown or become shark bait.  I would keep hoping and praying for a basketball named Wilson to show up.  Yet, Wilson could hear Ginger from far out at sea and changed his castaway path.

Then there would be emotional outbursts and I’d rush, in all my protective male macho manner just to see if she was in danger, only to find she snagged her Oscar de La Renta evening gown. Somebody please shoot me! Later that evening, as she rummages around her suitcases she discovers she packed a movie projector, a solar powered generator, and all her movie collections (starring her of course), a microwave and popcorn. Oh, and a box of chocolates and a case of wine, which she will not share.  By this time, Hari Kari is completely occupying my mind, if only a samurai sword or ginsu knife would wash ashore.

Now we humans, yes, even single-celled men included, need food and shelter.  I can cut out the passion, but not the food.  Luckily after two weeks with Ginger, my DNA would mutate based on my environmental surroundings, and my F5 gene would now become the F3 gene:

  1. Food
  2. Fishing
  3. Female Free

You see I was able to create a life raft of Ginger’s suitcases and float to a little known Hawaiian island. This was the last episode of Hari Kari Island- Escape From Ginger.  There on my new fantasy island I took on a new identity, so that Ginger could never find me. I comped Mary Ann a lifetime membership. Grrrrr… Woof Woof! (Sorry she brings the ape wolfman out of me every time!)


See what happens when you ask an insanely absurd, well dressed in a kilt, haggis hurling, Scottish hero wannabe,  CPA and author a question?  Bring on the questions. I’m up for any and all challenges.  Book your trip soon with Big Bollocks Bobby Travel Agency.

Big Bollocks Bobby

Big Bollocks Bobby
Always Ready to Serve

Oh, I almost forgot, the sing along:

Just sit right back and I’ll tell a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a critic from Cannes,
The skipper stylish and demure.
Six passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour, OMG, a three hour tour.
The ocean still while the actress played,
The crew and guest abandoned the tiny ship,
If not for the courage of the insane CPA
The Minnow would be lost, the Minnow would be lost.

The ship set ground on the shore of a fashionable isle
With man slave – Eduardo,
No Skipper or Mariangela Melato,
No millionaire and his wife (thank god),
Just a crazed conceited movie star,
No professor, or Mary Ann (whimper),
Here on Hari Kari Isle.

The Madness of Photoshop

As an independent author and publisher, I have to wear many hats or kilts.  When I made the decision to control my creative universe, I knew I’d have to learn many new technologies for the task.  I invested in Adobe Creative Suite – Master Edition CS5.  Each day I try to learn something new.  Today’s task was to learn the art of combing text and multiple images using Photoshop.  Of course my creation had to be, well, deviously creative and be usable in later blog posts.

Here is the output of that creativity lesson:


With Photoshop I will need to learn how to covert images for book covers, marketing materials, book trailers, website, on and on.  Here is what else I use in the Adobe Creative Suite:

InDesign:  eBook formatting and creation.

Dreamweaver: Website creation and maintenance.

AfterEffects: Create Book Trailers.

Adobe Media Encoder:  Convert the raw book trailer to various media formats.

Why go to all this effort?  I have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and love to learn new and creative tools.  As an author, I wield power over worlds, but I am blown away by artists who can take the author’s vision and create stunning visualizations.  While I was in high school I was on the architectural design club.  I also drew landscapes free hand.  I hope within 2013 that I can devote enough time to sketch the characters, demons, monsters and the landscape of the world of Allivar.  To do this means I will need to learn the art of human and animal form and then learn new skills in the art of digital manipulation.

I am approaching the age of 54, where most people are content with their level of knowledge and fascination.  Many have resolved that life is about spending time at the lake house and golf course, which is fine.  It is my hope to never stopped having a fascination with how things work.  Hopefully along with physical exercise, I will be able to keep pushing all the gifts that life brings.  I prefer not to waste a single moment.

Ginger or Mary Ann?

My daughter is now on a kick to see how I can create humor around photos.  For us aging men, there has always been a deep and daily thought on what would happen if we were stranded on an island and had only two choices of who to be stranded with.  That’s right, the philosophical conundrum of – Ginger or Mary Ann?


I can settle this quickly. Without a doubt Mary Ann.  Why you ask?

Mary Ann is a farmer’s daughter who set out on a three hour tour and wound up ship wrecked on Mulligan’s Isle with yours truly, the accountant.  Yeah, yeah, I know there was no accountant on the ship, but it’s my fantasy, so let me have fun. It’s tax season for crying out loud. Besides none of you ever questioned the absurdity of a filthy rich millionaire and movie star taking a low budget trolling tour.  It makes more sense for a tight-wad CPA. Producers canned the idea stating a CPA character would have sunk the Minnow in the pilot episode.  Well, they never met me.

Mary Ann is a farmer, so she is used to hard work and living off the land.  This means she will devise a way to make coconuts into something edible.  She’s been couped up in the hen house for most of her life and now she’s trapped there with me. For the sake of my minor aged readers, I’ll stop here.  But since I’ve never truly understood the meaning of “Farmer’s Daughter”, I assume world championship rodeo is involved. YEE HAW!

Had it been Ginger the “Movie Star”, of Rodeo Drive, she would have been immediately worried about her cuticles, hair, and her 50 Coach bags.  She’d be barking out orders like a super model pit bull on Red Bull.  She would most likely be an “experienced” lady of Lola LaLa Land,  and have been around the island a few times, if you get my sea weed drift.  Besides I saw her video on TMZ not intentionally wanting it to go public (wink, wink.) Any time she wanted something she’d go into acting mode; strutting towards you, while you sing a Bob Seger tune in your head, winking and whispering, “Oh dawling could you fix me some fish?”  Nope, she would be first to go over board.

Mary Ann would have already caught dinner for two, had it fried in a pan, and never, ever let me forget I was a man.  YEE HAW! Besides, who wants to go the beach with a woman that has a $5,000 Fendi evening gown on?  Mary Ann’s running around the place with beautiful flowing brunette hair and tanned skin, with faded worn out denim short-shorts and a thinning plaid shirt tied above the naval base, calling out for invasion.  Grrrrrr… Woof Woof! Sorry I can only hold back the animal inside me for a while.  Am I right, or am I right?

She’s also a enterprising woman, willing to do back breaking work, while I sip on Pina Colada’s and count the coconut inventory(my only job as chief beach bum.) She made a moonshine still too!  It doesn’t take a professor for this smart country gal. She also made a wooden railroad on the island so that I could take a daily trip to Petticoat Junction.  Hey, it’s my fantasy island!  Again, you never questioned how the Minnow could carry so much stuff, like luggage, for a three hour tour.  Was Ginger giving a fashion show?

Now for a sing along:

Just sit right back and I’ll tell a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a skinny silly man,
The skipper brave and sure.
Six passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour.
The ocean bellowed and the ocean swayed,
Someone sabotaged the tiny ship,
If not for the courage of the devious CPA
Mary Ann would be lost, Mary Ann would be lost.
The ship set ground on the shore of a deserted fruity isle
With Eduardo,
No Skipper or Scooby Doo,
No millionaire and his wife,
No movie star,
No professor, just
Mary Ann,
Here on Mulligan’s Isle.

Oh what a fantasy!  That’s when some little short runt would come running by screaming “Boss, De Plane, De Plane!”  and a cruise whip wrecks just right off the reef, with thousands of people from the geriatric Love Boat come swimming my way wearing bikinis, thongs and speedos. This is where my fantasy runs ashore on the wind swept plains of Oklahoma.

As you can see I would not make a great erotic author.  Fantasy islands have too many tourist and are overly commercial.  We only had 3 channels growing up.  Today we have 3,000.  There’s more material now for absurd fantasy than ever before.

Get busy writing!