Catchy hashtag, eh?

As a writer of both insane humor and satire, and even serious fantasy, you have to get noticed. This means you write about things in current society that have emotive effect, such as a mob of women, dressed in red clothing, pink bunny hats (oh wait, those are post labiaplasty hats), with faces equally red from anger – all directed at you.  This is what I do.  Dave Barry might do so or even Jon Stewart might and everyone would clap with excitement over their comic genius.   This is my attempt, so please leave your pitchforks and axes at home.  Let’s begin, shall we?

Get your inner Rhett Butler on by proclaiming the day after #InternationalWomensDay that you are a self-sufficient man by tweeting #FranklyMyDearIDontGiveADamnDay.  This will be immediately responded to by your wife or girlfriend with,




Be careful what you ask for, it may come true.

You see Twitter has become a communication app for tit-for-tat social warfare.  Some of the things I read are horrible, but even when someone attempts sarcasm or satire, your rights to freedom of expression can set off a firestorm.  This is why I blog, no one reads this, so I can spout off anything that crosses my mind to get it permanently off my mind.  Yet, we all need to laugh more, even at ourselves.  We are letting politics control our lives and our dispositions toward our fellow human being.  Many are using hashtags like #Revolt and #Resist.  Try this instead,


Lighten up just a little.  Now that the CIA is recording everything we say or do, develop a little sense of humor about it.

#CIA #OMG I just typed #QWERTY by accident and a horde of bug-eyed aliens from the hemorrhoid system have announced their invasion #Revolt  #Resistance

They will see this and immediately block you.  See, I’ve got all the answers.  You can pay me later.

All you have to do is break the CIA’s data storage facilities with at least 50 very silly tweets per day. Get your Monty Python silliness surging to 100% and let it rip.   They’ll think you’re passing secrets in some form of alien re-engineered code and it will drive their decipher analysts bonkers. I’m not saying it’s aliens, but it’s aliens. Better yet, be nice to your fellow human being.  Naw, where’s the fun in that?

I leave you with one final tweet of wisdom to provide all my readers with some comfort.

#LoveThyNeighbor  because tomorrow the #QWERTY #Bugeyed #WeeWeeKiLeaking #HemorrhoidAliens invade. #Resist #Resist #Resist #EatOreos

If you fit into any shape or form of the words I used in the tweet above and are offended, I apologize, especially to the Oreo.


How to Milk a Laden Coconut – The Holy Quest


Coconuts do not migrate

Since my post on Monty Python yesterday received at least one comment, I think I’m on to something and I want to keep that trend going.  I think coconuts was the key meta tag that lead my reader to me, your humble master of absurdity. For ages I’ve seen pictures of men pretending to be women wearing coconut bras.  I never a knew that there were trans coconuts, but I am tolerant and accepting for those that choose such a path.  I also had no idea on how to milk a coconut so I set out on a quest of discovery.

First, I tried the DIY way – the hands on approach.  I held a laden coconut firmly in my hand and suckled at the pointed end.  Much to my surprise it yielded no milk and I truly do suck… hard.  I thought for certain this was the origin of the term – Blue Hawaiian.  I tried suckling on various sizes of the nuts and still no milk.

Second, I have very dry skin and eczema so I have to use lotion to sooth said skin, including my scalp.  My lovely wife buys two new products, both clearly labeled as having coconut milk, one a shampoo and the other a conditioner. They are also packaged in nice little bottles easy for nursing and milk consumption. Let me say that the shampoo smelled lovely!  At first you don’t notice the burning lice killing chemicals, but then you start frothing at the mouth and your cursing loses all its impact.  After ten minutes of running cool cleansing water through my mouth, I decide the conditioner must be smoother and enjoyable, like one of my wife’s smoothies.  All I can say is that the hairs on my tongue are now under control.  My bowels however… well, let’s not go there, yet.

Finally, I decided to ask a few true native Hawaiians and they seemed so cooperative that they began to smile and even laugh.  Now that’s what I call collaboration!  They hand me two medium sized nuts and told me that the milk won’t be ready until you place them under your shirt and stand on the roadside for 30 minutes in the Hawaiian heat and humidity. Look up into the sky, sway your hips, and sing to the Gods over and over, “Haole, Haole, Hulu, please bring me some coconut mulu.” Well, I was mistaken, from a long distance, of being a rather well endowed member of Castle Anthrax, and was cat-called, whistled and harassed by tourist and visiting sailors.  Still, no milk, but a lot of propositions.  If you visit Hawaii, be wary of eager Hawaiian’s advice, they are pranksters.

Now my loving wife takes me to a juice bar, where a coconut barista whacks off the pointed end, inserts a straw and voila!  Coconut milk.  I then realize – I hate coconut milk!  It’s vile.  Please someone pass me the pineapple shampoo.  Who in their right mind would eat or drink a coconut?  You have to drown it out with heavy doses of Rum and stick a little umbrella in it. They call this a Pina Colada, a French word that loosely translates to “fart in a glass.”  According to the Internet, which never lies, coconut milk has the following medicinal values:

  • Aids in digestion.  Well yeah!  If you can’t swallow it or keep it down, it never digests.
  • Reduces Sweet Craving.  True!  Just makes you down 151 Rum or Kerosene.
  • Improves Heart Health. Well that’s true too.  The heaving and hurling does raise the heart rate.
  • Gluten Free.  Wait, what?  Gluten is from wheat, barley and rye.  Are you suggesting that these crops migrated to Hawaii to a have a fling with a unladen coconut but the coconut rejected the seeding of their gluten?  I’m starting not to believe the Internet and all the Gluten Gurus.

Well, that ends another episode into the sex lives of migratory coconuts and this writers’ quest to understand the mammary glands of tropical fruit.  I am told they are rebuilding the famous Coco Palms resort.  Huh!  I thought coconuts vacationed in Colorado. We have been invited over to many pupu parties and the thought of that prank alone clears my bowels.

Stay tuned, for my next quest is to learn how to milk a Lychee.  Absurd?  You betcha.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail – 40th Anniversary Shrubbery Sale

The thing I love about Facebook is connecting with people who have the same intellectual craving for fine movies, with a deep meaning of the origin of man and the universe.  Well, this is not one of those moments.  Let us take a perilously peril trip back (yes you must, none shall pass) forty years and relive silly places like Camelot, and conversations about coconut laden swallows and Knights of the round table.  Now that I’m living in Hawaii and know how heavy a migrating coconut can be, I don’t care about the air-speed velocity of any Sparrow, European or African, it is against the law of physics.

I’m not quite dead yet, but boy has 40 years flown, faster than a biting moose with a lead role in, “The Huge Molars of Horst Nordfink.”  When I married my wife with huge tracts of land and made her watch this glorious film, she looked at me as though I had visited the Castle Anthrax and been spanked way too many times by evil bad, bad, Zoot – Dingo’s identical twin sister.  My wife wouldn’t let me have just a little peril.

It took years, but she finally understood that life sometimes has to have its silly moments.  I grew up as a newt watching Monty Python on PBS using rabbit ears and tin foil to increase reception.  Once I took it off my head and placed it on the TV I saw episodes like the silly Olympics, silly job interview for chartered accountants wanting to be lion tamers and other classical moments. That rabbit is dynamite! As was the vicious Chicken of Bristol.

As I grew older I sat around drinking Chateau de Chassilier, eating ham and jam and spam a lot, and contemplating politics of autonomous collectives and anarchosyndicalist communes, and that power is not vested by some silly woman appearing from a lake, and that if you don’t vote for your king, it was a sham election.  But, you can always spot a King, because he doesn’t have shite all over him.  But if you hang around long enough you can witness the oppression inherent in the system.

From Holy Grail, it has been proven here in Hawaii that you can bypass fall and go directly to summer.  I have also proven that I’m getting better now and that my flesh wounds heal quickly.  I just recently learned what a “Pram” is and why anyone would push it alot. Yes, now that I am older I do fart in peoples general direction like a holy hand grenade of Antioch with a stench from the gorge of eternal peril. It is very perilous. Sometimes I get down on my Ni and saw lumber with a herring.  In the howls of the night I become a brave Sir Robin and run away, run away.

I do know that my name is Eddie, no wait, Edward and that my favorite color is red, I mean green.   If I hear an outrageous accent, then I must be near a person from France who might taunt me a second time with insults that my mother was a hamster and my father an elderberry, and they already have a grail sitting on the mantel looking pretty.  Oh those silly French!

There is much, much more to share, but it would be too perilous. Turns out they may play the movie on the big screen again and you are invited to bring coconuts if you like.  I may not be able to attend unless I find a nice, but not too expensive shrubbery, as a sacrifice.  So if you hear someone shouting in the middle of the night, “bring out your dead, bring out your dead” you will know I have found a shrubbery for a date.  I’ve learned a lot about life from this one very simply complex masterpiece of wit and slapstick. It is one movie you must pay close attention to or you will miss out completely in the revelry we cult-like followers share. If you see Roger the Shrubber, say hello to him for me, he’s quite a scruffy ruffian.

Perilously absurd?  You betcha! Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time-uh, you silly kaneggit pig-dog! Enjoy the opening credits and learn about Ralph the Wonder Llama! Can you say, “Ecky-ecky-ecky-ecky-pikang-zoom-boing?”

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?

Banished Coffee Brands

Before any of my dribble will make any sense, watch this clip for background.

Now that you have watched this classic clip, my dribble still will make no sense.  The genius of being a Monthy Python groupie is to be able to take something relatively benign and sane, and convert it to coffee clap.  There are some coffee brand names and combos that should have never been made, such as Conquistador, and the list is long:

  1. Colombian Constitution Cleanser and Disinfectant
  2. Cat’s Mammary Meow Mix
  3. Missy Swiss Wolf Puckschwanstuker Strudel und pinch of Cinnamon
  4. Red’s Redeye Redcow Roast
  5. Cafe Hot Harry’s Hammerplast and Haggis
  6. Stumpy’s Stumptown Cafe and Carwash
  7. Granny’s Gritty Grinds
  8. Ernesto’s Escargot Espresso
  9. Chucks Full o’Nuts and Cheesy Pizza Parlor Playground
  10. Mrs. Brown’s Black Ivory Cafe
  11. Sasini Massimo Macho Ichiro Tata Nyet DeMaraba Bubba Internacionale Blend

I could go on and on, but now for something terribly absurd, terribly absurd, terribly absurd – sorry there, just a little Google Hiccup.

Which leaves me with the newest paranormal movie hit of the year, watch the following trailer for the new thrilling errorotic (sic) mocha java chiller thriller –

Lola – The Laboriously Lewd Lovely Longing Lasciviously Lecherous Libidinous Lustful Licentious Lingerie Leprechaun Latte Lady

Whew, or the slightly shorter title

“The Milkman Only Rings Once”

Or the even shorter version
“Sally Succubus”

I’ll stick with Eduardo’s Hancho Pancho Slurpious Salivato Blend

The Desperately Humorous Accountant

If you have ever been an accountant, you may experience what many accountants experience, the desire to escape and live an exciting and imaginative life.  An accountant with an imagination is one you should try to avoid, unless you like having meetings at the prison visitors room. I have tried with all my powers to execute my professional and ethical responsibilities, but the rules and regulations are more active and changing than lion hunting. One slip up and you can be shredded. I was just recently reintroduced to an old Monty Python skit.  You should enjoy this even though it is decades old.  It still applies to me to this very day.

Now that you have watched this silly farce, remember this next time you talk with your accountant. When you are with them, roar slightly and sing “Career Guidance Counselor”, they will act all stoic and stodgy, as if they didn’t understand you, but they will get it.  If they try to remain stoic and stodgy say the following words, one at a time, with a pause in between while they prepare your tax return in front of you:

  1. Dull
  2. Tediously dull
  3. Appalling and tediously dull
  4. Desperately appalling and tediously dull
  5. Drab and dreadfully awful, desperately appalling and tediously dull
  6. Stuffy, drab and dreadfully awful, desperately appalling and tediously dull
  7. Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull Dull

And now for something completely different,

If the accountant looks at you as though you were insane, sing again “Career Guidance Counselor” and make a whipping sound while holding up your chair.  If the accountant still appears to be stoic and stodgy, leave his office and head over to mine. I’ll get it, we’ll laugh at my predecessor and I’ll gladly accept your new business.

Who says we accountants are all stuffy, drab and dreadfully awful, desperately appalling and tediously dull?  You see those of us accountants who want exciting second lives as authors have a slight imaginative edge over our  stuffy, drab and dreadfully awful, desperately appalling and tediously dull, spineless, timid, humorless and easily dominated colleagues.

And there you have it, my new client attraction business model for 2013 – The desperately humorous accountant! I’ll even sing out the results of your 1040.

Haggis Hurling Hogmanay


Haggis, Neeps and Tatties

I may have mentioned that I converse with British author Danny Kemp.  He is almost as insane as me. Today he mentioned the celebration of Hogmanay day in Scotland, the eating of Haggis and copious consumption of Scottish whiskey.  I admit to not knowing what Haggis was, so I joked around about a celebration over the state line in Arkansas, which I completely made up.  For any British person reading this just know someone from Arkansas is like someone who has genes from vikings, eskimos, french, picts, turtles and hogs.  In essence, they are severely genetically messed up.  There in Arkansas they chase hogs and cook them in a pit and call it barbeque.  Instead of whiskey, they drink moonshine, also known as Hillbilly Napalm.  Moonshine is so high in octane it can run a monster truck, Titan missiles or a Hog (a Harley-Davidson Motorcycle) also favorites of Arkansans. It can remove paint and neutralize nuclear waste, so it is not for the faint of heart.

I joked that anything with “Hog” in its name was just an excuse for public intoxication and for throwing things around, like kids, wives (yes plural),  brother cousins (don’t ask me to explain), mothers-in-laws and banjo players.  Anyone who has ever seen the movie Deliverance knows exactly what I mean about the banjo player, that jeepers creepers of a genetically altered boy playing that banjo. We older guys fear banjo players and immediately go into sphincter clinching mode.  I will not provide any more detail on that sore subject matter.  Watch the movie and you’ll understand. We love our hogs. We ride metal Hogs, with our Hogettes hugging us as we drive.

I was sure I would be able to connect with Danny on this topic. In order to have an intelligent, yet insane conversation with Danny about this event I looked up Hogmanay and Haggis.  Here is what Wikipedia had to say:

Haggis is a savoury pudding containing sheep’s pluck (heart, liver and lungs); minced with onion , oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in the animal’s stomach and simmered for approximately three hours.

Yuuuuu-mmmmm-y!!!  I also came across Haggis Hurling which is a sport of tossing said sheep’s plucking.  Here’s the background:

“Haggis hurling is a Scottish sport involving the hurling of a haggis as far as possible for distance and accuracy from atop a platform (usually a whiskey barrel). The Haggis must be edible after landing.”

The last sentence just kills me.  It must be edible after landing.  What, do they cook it in mid-air?  Honestly, I’m not sure if Haggis is edible even during pre-flight mode. I can see an innocent walker look up at the last minute and scream “What the Sheep’s Pluck!” Here in America hurling has another meaning: projectile regurgitation.  After reading the description of Haggis and looking at it on a plate with surrounding Neeps and Tatties, I was crowned the American champion of Haggis Hurling, even though I had no Haggis in me.  Although I have found this a productive weight loss tool now at my disposal.  Unfortunately, the imagery of me in a Scottish kilt hurling a 500 pound Haggis from the top of a whiskey barrel, would strip me of my crown and be given to my wife, as she is a better hurler than me.  That hottie scottie outfit I had for Halloween is not near as sexy to my wife now that she knows about Haggis, Neeps and Tatties.  Thanks Danny, thanks a lot!

This also ruined my imagery of William Wallace.  I am sure when they started talking about the movie title; Bravehaggis, Bravehogmanay, or Bravesheeppluck lost out to Braveheart.  Now that I know more about the Scot’s, Arkansas hillbilly’s now seem cultured and sociably acceptable. I also ran across this video of the day after Hogmanay for those that binged on Whiskey, Haggis, Neeps and Tatties.

Disclaimer:  This is my attempt at international humor. I love all peoples, hogs, sheep, Haggis, Neeps and especially Tatties of the United Kingdom, in a platonic sense mind you. My last image is of a genetically mutated banjo wielding Scot stop playing and ask, “What’s Tatties precious, eh, what’s Tatties?” Should I ever visit Scotland please do not hurl me.  Any American looking for a little adventure, just try ordering Tatties at Hooter’s. You may not sue me for their reaction, or physical injury you sustain.