Reflecting as we come to the end of 2010...
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I think as a change of pace this year, facing the prospect of a hip replacement in the near future, instead of going out this Friday night, I thought I'd just stay home and watch "The Larry King Prune Juice and Lipitor New Year's Eve Party", during which Larry asks each female guest who appears: "Was I ever married to you?"... Program note: The show actually ends at 10:30 pm when Larry unsnaps his suspenders, takes off his support hose and goes to bed...
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I met Charles Dickens' great-great grandson, Gerald Charles Dickens a few weeks ago at a local mall here in Rochester. He is an actor who gives performances and readings of his famous ancestor's works (and I guess every now and then, just to confuse the audience, he'll sing the death scene from Puccini's "Tosca"... -- just kidding) and was in town to perform at a local theater here. The mall appearance was to promote the performance and also help sell a line of Christmas decorations being offered by a Hallmark store located in the mall. I can imagine the marketing/promotional tie-in that must cripple all his performances: "And so, as Tiny Tim observed, 'God bless us everyone -- with a Keepsake Ornament from Hallmark!'"...
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From the minutes of the local Adult ADD support group: "As per usual, the meeting convened at 7:30 and adjourned at 7:31"....
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Watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade is always fun... I'm just waiting for the year that they decide to inflate Willard Scott and turn him into a balloon.... I can see all those Macy's volunteers, straining at the guy wires to pull him him down Broadway while he's up there about four stories high yelling "With a name like Smucker's, it's got to be -- oh, shit, I just hit a light pole!" ... And with a loud gaseous exhaust of helium, he plummets to earth, landing right on top of the NBC reporters' stand, inflicting mass destruction and carnage, and leading to a new opening sequence the on the network the following morning: "This is the TODAY show, with NBC News senior correspondents, Kathie Lee and Hoda".... Yeah, I think that would be fun to watch...
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Poor Lindsay Lohan's screwed herself up again... I swear, that young lady has tiptoed through so many 12-step programs that now she shows up for rehab wearing ballet slippers....
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Ever watch the news programs on the Spanish network channels?... Without exception, the female anchors and reporters are all wearing outfits that make them look like they work for Elliot Spitzer's escort service -- or for Fox News... I don't know all that much Spanish, but I know that Hispanic television does tend to place a lot of value on female physical attributes, and I just can't help but think that if I could translate it, these women would all be starting each evening's broadcast with "My heaving breasts, full hips and glistening thighs are fairly exploding out of my Size 2 dress... Here are the headlines..."
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TOP TEN REASONS WHY AL AND TIPPER GORE SPLIT UP
10) She got fed up with him telling her to recycle the hair he leaves in the sink
9) They each decided to adopt a poor tropical island to save from climate change -- she picked Haiti, he picked Aruba
8) Maybe he did invent the Internet -- so why can’t he fix the damn toaster?
7) He started listening to marriage advice from Bill Clinton
6) These days his kisses are less tongue and more nose
5) She just never forgave him for blowing that 2000 Presidential thing
4) The house he bought in Montecito has a one-car garage -- Hey, Tipper, get the hint?
3) Since he gained weight, she’s tired of people stopping her in the store and asking “So, are you still married to Lard-Ass?”
2) Global warming stops at the bedroom door
AND THE NUMBER ONE REASON WHY AL AND TIPPER GORE SPLIT UP…
His new documentary film: “An Inconvenient Marriage”
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You've no doubt heard I'm sure of the pasta product from Betty Crocker called "Suddenly Salad".... Can you imagine being the poor schmuck who came up with the concept of "Probably Salad"?... Odds are there's a good chance that person will spend the rest of his or her life sadly thinking "Damn! -- And I was THAT close to success!"...
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Letter received at a particular corporation from a particular celebrity:
"May, 2010
"Dear British Petroleum,
"It is with a certain degree of concern and trepidation that I am writing you to report that recently, for some strange and mysterious reason, the value of my shares in your company have experienced a sudden, drastic and inexplicable decline.
"I wonder if you could please look into this and get back to me? Thank you.
"Respectfully Yours,
"Elizabeth II, HRM
"p.s. Charles and Camilla send their regards."
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Was watching the HLN cable news show MORNING EXPRESS the other morning when the host, Robin Meade was on, who was, as she always seems to be every morning, so bright and perky and perfectly made up, and started thinking to myself that just one morning, I'd like to see her go on air looking like she had a hangover... Her hair would be tousled and disheveled, her blouse would be on inside-out, her mascara would be running, her lipstick would be on crooked and she'd be wearing only one huge dangling earring that resembled a disco ball -- and it kept sliding off her ear lobe and plopping into her coffee... She'd start off the show with the question "Does anyone know where I was last night?... If you do, please call, I-M or tweet me... I'd like to find out where I left my car keys... And my phone... And my purse... And my shoes... [looking down at her blouse] And my bra! -- EEK!!!"... And the first time they went to a commercial break, (although I know she's on HLN, not the sister network) I could imagine the voice of James Earl Jones resonantly intoning "This is C-N -- Holy shit! What the hell happened to YOU?!!"...
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Finally...
A joke I wrote and sent to Yakov Smirnoff a few years back that I thought was ideal for his shtick -- and for this time of year... He didn't like it...
People ask me how did we observe the New Year's holiday in the Soviet Union, and I tell them that actually, in both America and in the Soviet Union, we would always celebrate it pretty much the same way. In America on New Year's Eve, everyone will go to Times Square and celebrate "Happy New Year!".... In the Soviet Union, everyone would go to Red Square -- and celebrate "Happy 1984!"
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A Happy New Year to you all who've taken the time to read my blog this year - - your time, thoughts and comments are really appreciated -- and Best Wishes for a Fantastic 2011!
tq
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Ultimate Holiday Newsletter
Every year we receive the inevitable "holiday newsletter" from that friend or relative with the huge inferiority complex who still thinks he or she can impress us with the pathetic, sorry state that has passed for being their lives over the preceding 12 months, if they just turn the right phrase, paint a rosier picture or mention an exclusive vacation spot that neither they or anyone else in their family has ever been to and will probably never even get near in their lifetimes.
And every year we feel that whether out of a sense of obligation, sympathy, or just plain "let's get this over with," we have to feign some sense of happiness for these people because they're trying so hard to convince us that they're leading lives the rest of us would die for, when in fact we know that if we read between the lines, we understand what these literary masterpieces are in reality: a desperate, psychotic cry for help.
So this year, in order to save you the time of reading all those holiday newsletters you may receive this season, I thought I'd just offer one we probably all can relate to, with the added convenience of a little explanation in brackets of what's really being said:
December 2010
Dear _____________:
Has it really been a whole year since I sat down to update you on our family’s comings and goings? It seems that we just don’t get the chance to keep in touch with each other anymore [Forget about the fact that I haven’t returned any of your phone calls or acknowledged any of your letters since the Carter administration. You've been so much on my mind ever since I remembered I loaned you $15 and never got it back].
Anyway, Frank and I have been busy looking over travel brochures and cruise itineraries describing such places as Fiji, Mazatlan and Aruba. Now that we’re entering our golden years, the extra free time will give us a chance to catch up on those vacations we’ve been putting off for so long. [On the other hand, with my disability checks being cut off because of the fraud investigation, our next door neighbor convincing us to invest in that ponzi thing, and Frank's 401K gushing dollars faster than a BP oil rig, we’ll probably end up spending our vacation in the same place we do every year – at my sister's trailer park in Toledo.]
Of course, Frank retired this year after 45 years of faithful service to his company. And they really gave him a royal sendoff at his retirement party. [Considering the fact that they forced him out, “royal” is also a pretty good description for another thing they gave him after 45 years of faithful service to his company.] The board chairman and company president both spoke of him in glowing terms [after about 10 or 12 drinks apiece] and let Frank know that he will be remembered long after he’s gone [or at least for as long as it takes for them to pry the nameplate off the wall of his cubicle]. I can’t begin to tell you how much Frank and I were touched by the whole evening [after about 10 or 12 drinks apiece].
As for our children, things just seem to be getting better and better for them. If there’s another mother around with more reason to be proud than me, I haven’t met her [Well, I suppose that at least I can be more proud than any mother who goes by the last name of Sheen or Lohan].
Daughter Megan’s singing career is really starting to take an upward swing. [She just got hired as the backup to the substitute for the fill-in who’s replaced the part-time singer for Barry Manilow’s third cousin who’s doing a Bar Mitzvah at a club in the Poconos.] She’s scheduled for an engagement at New York City’s famous Cipriani in February [see above] – starting to get just a little nervous about it with the occasional butterflies in her stomach. [“Butterflies?” -- She’s been retching her guts out ever since she found out about it. In fact, it’s ruined her voice. People are starting to refer to her as "the female Michael Bolton".] But we’re all excited and happy and hope that it goes well for her [because if it doesn’t, it means she moves home again – for the eighth time].
Our other daughter Sarah surprised us just last week: she and her husband are expecting twins. [I guess that ends the debate about the guy’s gender orientation -- or maybe not. Kind of hard to tell when the man keeps wanting to dress up like Cher -- or maybe not.] Hopefully, being a mom won’t put too much of a crimp in her career ambitions, [I mean, you’ve really taken on a mountain of responsibility trying to care for two screaming kids and at the same time work out of your house running your own personal phone sex gig] but we’re hoping things go well. No lofty expectations [because if you expect nothing, you won't be disappointed] -- just a prayer for happy and healthy babies [and the hope that they don’t look like his side of the family, or as we like to call them, “The Menagerie”].
Son Jason is still out on the coast enjoying the sunny climes of Southern California, and reports that his screenwriting career is going along as expected. [As expected, people keep telling him “Don’t make any plans to move out of that dumpster in Santa Monica just yet -- if ever.”] Several studios are so enthusiastic over his work that they have his latest script in what they call “turnaround.” [“Turnaround” -- that’s a polite way for studios to say “We’ve decided that your recent submission, TEENAGE LESBIAN VAMPIRE NYMPHO CHEERLEADER TERMINATORS is unproduceable garbage. Perhaps Fox would be interested in it.”] Word is that he’ll be involved in several major projects that are being planned right in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Hollywood in the upcoming year [they’re re-paving Sunset Boulevard, and he’s been hired as a flagman], and he may soon be hooked up with a prestigious agent [meaning he'll be delivering dry cleaning to the same genius that talked Ben Affleck into doing GIGLI].
Our other two sons, Dave and Roger have also had an eventful year. Dave is well on his way to becoming a topflight computer tech wizard [It’s nice to know that our long-haired, pot-smoking, no-ambition, live-at-home 30-year-old son has finally found a vocation that interests him: becoming the largest spam sender of junk emails in the country. -- You know those 83 ads for Viagra that suddenly showed up in your Inbox the other day? You can thank our boy!] He’s even tried to teach me a thing or two. I’m still not quite sure how computers work, but I’m certainly impressed with the window on the world they’ve opened up, and how much of an impression they’ve made on our household. [After all, what other family can boast of your house being under 24/7 surveillance by the FBI, simply because your son hit the F5 key on his laptop and completely froze the Department of Homeland Security’s computer network?] And Roger has finally made a decision as to which field of medicine he wants to specialize in [four med schools and $250,000 dollars later]. Hopefully, this is a sign that he’s ready to slow down his lifestyle a bit and won’t be quite so footloose and fancy-free with the ladies. [By the way, did I mention that he’s decided on Gynecology? -- Yeah, that should really settle him down.]
Well, would love to report more, [although I can’t believe you would actually want to read more of this pure fictitious, unadulterated crap] but have to close for now. Want to take some time to relax and reflect back on the year [and watch our favorite holiday movie, “Silent Night, Deadly Night"] and start planning the big Christmas get-together for the family [it was a battle, but at least some of us are actually speaking to each other again], and with the kids flying in from all over, Frank and I want to be ready to welcome them with open arms [after about 10 or 12 drinks apiece]. So, our best to all, and Happy Holidays!
Love and Snowflakes,
Bunni
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Holiday Shopping Woes....
With apologies to David Letterman (or maybe not, I doubt if he'd apologize to me for anything), I hereby present:
TOP 10 SIGNS YOU’RE HAVING A BAD HOLIDAY SHOPPING SEASON
10) Department store Santa Claus keeps following you around making lewd and obscene suggestions
9) Not even five years of running in the New York City Marathon prepared you for the mass of humanity trying to shove its way through the front door for that $19 laptop
8) Only one flat-screen TV left and three people want it: you, another customer and the store manager’s brother-in-law
7) The only place where you can still find Zhu Zhu Pets is down a dark alley where you have to knock on the door three times and ask for someone named "Louie"
6) Your husband tells you "Oh by the way, don't get me one of those (fill in the blank)" right after you've bought him one of those (fill in the blank)
5) Artificial tree you just bought is infested with bed bugs
4) Guy ringing the bell by the kettle outside the store looks suspiciously like the guy that mugged you last Christmas shopping season
3) You’ve run out of money, so you end up bartering your youngest child in exchange for a gift for Aunt Tillie
2) Kindly old greeter at Wal-Mart forces you to undergo an invasive pat-down before entering the store
AND THE NUMBER ONE SIGN YOU’RE HAVING A BAD HOLIDAY SHOPPING SEASON…
1) Your secret Christmas shopping list just showed up on WikiLeaks
TOP 10 SIGNS YOU’RE HAVING A BAD HOLIDAY SHOPPING SEASON
10) Department store Santa Claus keeps following you around making lewd and obscene suggestions
9) Not even five years of running in the New York City Marathon prepared you for the mass of humanity trying to shove its way through the front door for that $19 laptop
8) Only one flat-screen TV left and three people want it: you, another customer and the store manager’s brother-in-law
7) The only place where you can still find Zhu Zhu Pets is down a dark alley where you have to knock on the door three times and ask for someone named "Louie"
6) Your husband tells you "Oh by the way, don't get me one of those (fill in the blank)" right after you've bought him one of those (fill in the blank)
5) Artificial tree you just bought is infested with bed bugs
4) Guy ringing the bell by the kettle outside the store looks suspiciously like the guy that mugged you last Christmas shopping season
3) You’ve run out of money, so you end up bartering your youngest child in exchange for a gift for Aunt Tillie
2) Kindly old greeter at Wal-Mart forces you to undergo an invasive pat-down before entering the store
AND THE NUMBER ONE SIGN YOU’RE HAVING A BAD HOLIDAY SHOPPING SEASON…
1) Your secret Christmas shopping list just showed up on WikiLeaks
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Holiday TV Movies You’ll Be Glad You Missed
Well, 'tis the season again… You’re asking “You mean the time for family, friends, turkeys, trees, lights, glitter and gifts?”… No, actually I’m referring to the season with all those really bad made for TV holiday movies.
Actually, I had the good fortune of being in one that was a cut above the rest a few years ago, “The Christmas Wish,” starring Debbie Reynolds, Neil Patrick Harris and Naomi Watts. But by and large, the majority of holiday filler movies that will grace our cable channels for the next month have an entertainment quotient that’s pretty much just about on a par with watching snow melt. -- For starters, see how any times you hear some character say “You just have to believe!“ throughout the course of one day’s worth of these turkeys.
Having said that, I’d like to share a few with you I discovered that were so bad they had absolutely no chance of ever making it on air:
ABC FAMILY: Santa Claus fears that he may have to cancel Christmas this year when his number one elf loses the dry-cleaning claim check for part of the jolly old man’s regular Christmas Eve ensemble. In a fun-loving special that’s destined to become a holiday classic for the whole family, Ed Asner, Caroline Rhea, Stephen Tobolowsky and David Spade star in “Where’s Santa’s Pants?”
LIFETIME: After her pregnancy test results turn up positive on Christmas Eve, a young professional single female decides that she had made one too many trips to the wassail bowl at her condo association’s annual holiday get-together, where she hooked up with a mysterious stranger who, even indoors, wore sunglasses and never looked directly at her when he spoke. Catherine Heigl, Leah Rimini, Stephen Tobolowsky and David Caruso headline the cast of “Nogged Up.”
DISNEY: A teen pop star who has become jaded by the holidays finds new meaning in the season when a fan letter from a guy who has never had a date persuades her to make a special trip on Christmas Eve, where she fulfills his Christmas wish list and starts to believe in the holiday once again. Miley Cyrus, Stephen Tobolowsky and Angus T. Jones star in “I’m Getting Hannah Montana for Christmas.” (Hey, she’s 18 now -- she can do stuff like this!)
MSNBC: In a departure from its regular news programming, the network offers a charming animated holiday special for the whole family, featuring the beloved characters of Dr. Seuss, and based on this year’s election results: “How The Grinch Stole Congress.”
ION: An up and coming young starlet just can’t seem to get her life together due to too much booze, drugs and endless partying, until a volunteer Santa visits her and gives her something that holds the secret to a happy holiday. George Lopez, Sherri Shepherd, Stephen Tobolowsky and Lindsay Lohan star in “The Gift of The Ankle Monitor.”
HALLMARK CHANNEL: When a mysterious angel from Heaven leaves an unusual set of ornaments on the front door of a lonely young widower on Christmas Eve, he finds a whole new dimension added to the joy of the season. Featuring Ernest Borgnine, Faith Ford, Brad Garrett and Stephen Tobolowsky, this warm holiday story stars Charlie Sheen and Pamela Anderson in “The Magic Christmas Knockers.”
SHOWTIME: The matron of a proud Jewish family who decides for the sake of its heritage to pen her memoirs about holidays past, spends the next 20 years doing so, and in the process finds a reason for making everyone feel guilty every time another remembrance comes to mind. In an epic eight-part mini-series produced and directed by Stephen Spielberg, and starring Lainie Kazan, Judd Hirsch, Alan Arkin, Linda Lavin, Jeff Goldblum, Stephen Tobolowsky, Debra Messing, Ben Stiller, Jerry Stiller, and Ann Meara as the neighborly Gentile widow next door, SHOWTIME proudly presents “Annika’s Hanukkah Chronicles.”
ANIMAL PLANET: In yet another example of a cable network deviating from its normal programming due to the time of year, Animal Planet presents a warm, touching story about how even our friends in the insect world seem to recognize the true meaning of the season. Based on a short story by O. Henry, Fred Willard, Eva Marie Saint, Stephen Tobolowsky, Ian Ziering, Melissa Joan Hart and Jack Hanna star in "The Gift Of The Maggot."
CARTOON NETWORK: “Rudolph and Hermy’s Lost Christmas Weekend” -- In this new Rankin-Bass Animagic production, the world’s most famous reindeer discovers that his nose isn’t the only body part he can get to light up when, after nearly half a century of catering to the kiddie crowd, Rudolph and his wide-eyed diminutive sidekick decide to sow some wild oats. First Stop: The Island of Misfit Women.
BET: An African-American family's plans to liven up the holidays by renting the Staples Center for a family get-together run into some unexpected complications when it's discovered that the arena's management inadvertently double-booked the place, and the festivities keep being interrrupted by a Clippers' game. Damon Wayans, Vanessa Williams, Gabrielle Union, and Stephen Tobolowsky star in this lovable tale for all cultures and ethnicities, "One Kwazy Kwanzaa!"
And finally...
USA NETWORK: A man comes down with food poisoning after gorging himself on the shrimp cocktail appetizers at the office Christmas party, then spends the rest of the holidays confined to the bathroom as the price of his gluttony and wishing the whole time that he could maybe just go sleep it off away in a manger somewhere. Jeff Daniels, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Stephen Tobolowsky and Larry the Cable Guy star in the heart-warming (and heartburn-inducing) holiday feature, “I'm Dreaming Of A White Porcelain Christmas.”
Actually, I had the good fortune of being in one that was a cut above the rest a few years ago, “The Christmas Wish,” starring Debbie Reynolds, Neil Patrick Harris and Naomi Watts. But by and large, the majority of holiday filler movies that will grace our cable channels for the next month have an entertainment quotient that’s pretty much just about on a par with watching snow melt. -- For starters, see how any times you hear some character say “You just have to believe!“ throughout the course of one day’s worth of these turkeys.
Having said that, I’d like to share a few with you I discovered that were so bad they had absolutely no chance of ever making it on air:
ABC FAMILY: Santa Claus fears that he may have to cancel Christmas this year when his number one elf loses the dry-cleaning claim check for part of the jolly old man’s regular Christmas Eve ensemble. In a fun-loving special that’s destined to become a holiday classic for the whole family, Ed Asner, Caroline Rhea, Stephen Tobolowsky and David Spade star in “Where’s Santa’s Pants?”
LIFETIME: After her pregnancy test results turn up positive on Christmas Eve, a young professional single female decides that she had made one too many trips to the wassail bowl at her condo association’s annual holiday get-together, where she hooked up with a mysterious stranger who, even indoors, wore sunglasses and never looked directly at her when he spoke. Catherine Heigl, Leah Rimini, Stephen Tobolowsky and David Caruso headline the cast of “Nogged Up.”
DISNEY: A teen pop star who has become jaded by the holidays finds new meaning in the season when a fan letter from a guy who has never had a date persuades her to make a special trip on Christmas Eve, where she fulfills his Christmas wish list and starts to believe in the holiday once again. Miley Cyrus, Stephen Tobolowsky and Angus T. Jones star in “I’m Getting Hannah Montana for Christmas.” (Hey, she’s 18 now -- she can do stuff like this!)
MSNBC: In a departure from its regular news programming, the network offers a charming animated holiday special for the whole family, featuring the beloved characters of Dr. Seuss, and based on this year’s election results: “How The Grinch Stole Congress.”
ION: An up and coming young starlet just can’t seem to get her life together due to too much booze, drugs and endless partying, until a volunteer Santa visits her and gives her something that holds the secret to a happy holiday. George Lopez, Sherri Shepherd, Stephen Tobolowsky and Lindsay Lohan star in “The Gift of The Ankle Monitor.”
HALLMARK CHANNEL: When a mysterious angel from Heaven leaves an unusual set of ornaments on the front door of a lonely young widower on Christmas Eve, he finds a whole new dimension added to the joy of the season. Featuring Ernest Borgnine, Faith Ford, Brad Garrett and Stephen Tobolowsky, this warm holiday story stars Charlie Sheen and Pamela Anderson in “The Magic Christmas Knockers.”
SHOWTIME: The matron of a proud Jewish family who decides for the sake of its heritage to pen her memoirs about holidays past, spends the next 20 years doing so, and in the process finds a reason for making everyone feel guilty every time another remembrance comes to mind. In an epic eight-part mini-series produced and directed by Stephen Spielberg, and starring Lainie Kazan, Judd Hirsch, Alan Arkin, Linda Lavin, Jeff Goldblum, Stephen Tobolowsky, Debra Messing, Ben Stiller, Jerry Stiller, and Ann Meara as the neighborly Gentile widow next door, SHOWTIME proudly presents “Annika’s Hanukkah Chronicles.”
ANIMAL PLANET: In yet another example of a cable network deviating from its normal programming due to the time of year, Animal Planet presents a warm, touching story about how even our friends in the insect world seem to recognize the true meaning of the season. Based on a short story by O. Henry, Fred Willard, Eva Marie Saint, Stephen Tobolowsky, Ian Ziering, Melissa Joan Hart and Jack Hanna star in "The Gift Of The Maggot."
CARTOON NETWORK: “Rudolph and Hermy’s Lost Christmas Weekend” -- In this new Rankin-Bass Animagic production, the world’s most famous reindeer discovers that his nose isn’t the only body part he can get to light up when, after nearly half a century of catering to the kiddie crowd, Rudolph and his wide-eyed diminutive sidekick decide to sow some wild oats. First Stop: The Island of Misfit Women.
BET: An African-American family's plans to liven up the holidays by renting the Staples Center for a family get-together run into some unexpected complications when it's discovered that the arena's management inadvertently double-booked the place, and the festivities keep being interrrupted by a Clippers' game. Damon Wayans, Vanessa Williams, Gabrielle Union, and Stephen Tobolowsky star in this lovable tale for all cultures and ethnicities, "One Kwazy Kwanzaa!"
And finally...
USA NETWORK: A man comes down with food poisoning after gorging himself on the shrimp cocktail appetizers at the office Christmas party, then spends the rest of the holidays confined to the bathroom as the price of his gluttony and wishing the whole time that he could maybe just go sleep it off away in a manger somewhere. Jeff Daniels, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Stephen Tobolowsky and Larry the Cable Guy star in the heart-warming (and heartburn-inducing) holiday feature, “I'm Dreaming Of A White Porcelain Christmas.”
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Royal Dish -- With A Side Order Of Nonsense
All right, as if we don’t have enough to worry about these days with rampant unemployment, international terrorism and Peewee Herman having his own show on Broadway, now we’ve got a new issue to fret over -- whether or not the recently announced engagement between HRH Prince William and his beloved Kate Middleton will survive into marriage and beyond, or end up the same way as Prince Charles and Prince Andrew’s marriages -- namely, like Custer at Little Big Horn…
Yes, friends, on Monday, William, the dashing, handsome young heir to the British throne who, while growing into a young man has given so much attention and strict adherence to British royal pomp, tradition and protocol, announced that he is getting married to the comely young lass with whom he’s been shacking up the last two years.
Well, I for one extend my best wishes for a long and happy relationship for the young prince and his betrothed, considering the royal family's track record as of late… Hopefully, their marriage will get off to a better start than Charles’ and Diana’s did, which evidently went badly right from the beginning when, on their wedding night, Diana asked Charles if she might be allowed to (ahem) “privily inspect the ‘Royal Jewels’”… To which the prince replied “Certainly, my love” -- and then he tossed her his cufflinks… Hopefully also, Charles will be keeping any marriage advice to his son to a bare minimum... If he doesn't, then we could probably otherwise expect that sometime in the next 20 years, William will have divorced Kate and married Susan Boyle...
One wonders where all this leaves younger brother Harry, who, perhaps as the sibling who feels somewhat neglected in the midst of so much hoopla, and in a bid for some publicity of his own, is going to do something to try and top Big Bro’s announcement… Let’s see -- he’s already done the Nazi uniform thing (apparently he too was running for Congress in Ohio), so that’s probably out… Gee, maybe if he works it right he’ll get busted for pot, or arrested for peeing in one of Buckingham Palace’s prize flower beds after a wild all night drunken binge with Keith Richards -- or Snooki… Or perhaps he’ll go on Dr. Phil and tell him how people made fun of him as a kid because his ears were the same size as his father’s -- and those were just people in his own family -- including his father… If it's possible to be part of a royal dynasty and still have an inferiority complex, Harry's probably the world's number one candidate... Go ahead, Britain -- you can begin paying for his therapy startinnnng -- Now!
Speaking of publicity, at some point, I’m almost positive that a movie will be made about Will’s and Kate’s love affair, naturally starring Lindsay Lohan and Leonardo Di Caprio … Assuming, of course, that Lindsay’s available on weekends due to good behavior… And if you’re wondering about the logic of the casting, well, we know that at least Lindsay can handle doing a British accent, whereas with Leo, Prince William will probably come off sounding like Elmer Fudd doing Harry Potter… Not sure there will be any onscreen chemistry between the two of them, but it still should be a hoot to see how Kate looks wearing an alcohol monitor bracelet strapped to her ankle and totaling William’s Range Rover every other week… But hopefully, the project will be saved when, in a casting coup, grumpy old Prince Charles ends up being played by grumpy old Ed Asner…
Of course, any discussion about a royal marriage has to include some questions about succession to the throne, and it seems that William and Kate have already thoroughly thought this issue through. In an interview this morning with William and Kate following the big announcement, one correspondent asked them if once the nuptials were completed, the royal couple planned on starting a family…”Absolutely, we‘d like to produce an heir to the throne,” William replied. “And we most definitely expect our first-born son will someday become king -- in about 150 years when Grand-Mum Elizabeth dies…”
In the end though, I'm sure all of Britain is awaiting this special event with eager anticipation, and in my head, I can already hear the chimes of the great British cathedrals tolling out the joyous news... Let's just hope that on their wedding day, we don't hear them ringing out "I slept with your sister, say the bells of Westminster"...
Yes, friends, on Monday, William, the dashing, handsome young heir to the British throne who, while growing into a young man has given so much attention and strict adherence to British royal pomp, tradition and protocol, announced that he is getting married to the comely young lass with whom he’s been shacking up the last two years.
Well, I for one extend my best wishes for a long and happy relationship for the young prince and his betrothed, considering the royal family's track record as of late… Hopefully, their marriage will get off to a better start than Charles’ and Diana’s did, which evidently went badly right from the beginning when, on their wedding night, Diana asked Charles if she might be allowed to (ahem) “privily inspect the ‘Royal Jewels’”… To which the prince replied “Certainly, my love” -- and then he tossed her his cufflinks… Hopefully also, Charles will be keeping any marriage advice to his son to a bare minimum... If he doesn't, then we could probably otherwise expect that sometime in the next 20 years, William will have divorced Kate and married Susan Boyle...
One wonders where all this leaves younger brother Harry, who, perhaps as the sibling who feels somewhat neglected in the midst of so much hoopla, and in a bid for some publicity of his own, is going to do something to try and top Big Bro’s announcement… Let’s see -- he’s already done the Nazi uniform thing (apparently he too was running for Congress in Ohio), so that’s probably out… Gee, maybe if he works it right he’ll get busted for pot, or arrested for peeing in one of Buckingham Palace’s prize flower beds after a wild all night drunken binge with Keith Richards -- or Snooki… Or perhaps he’ll go on Dr. Phil and tell him how people made fun of him as a kid because his ears were the same size as his father’s -- and those were just people in his own family -- including his father… If it's possible to be part of a royal dynasty and still have an inferiority complex, Harry's probably the world's number one candidate... Go ahead, Britain -- you can begin paying for his therapy startinnnng -- Now!
Speaking of publicity, at some point, I’m almost positive that a movie will be made about Will’s and Kate’s love affair, naturally starring Lindsay Lohan and Leonardo Di Caprio … Assuming, of course, that Lindsay’s available on weekends due to good behavior… And if you’re wondering about the logic of the casting, well, we know that at least Lindsay can handle doing a British accent, whereas with Leo, Prince William will probably come off sounding like Elmer Fudd doing Harry Potter… Not sure there will be any onscreen chemistry between the two of them, but it still should be a hoot to see how Kate looks wearing an alcohol monitor bracelet strapped to her ankle and totaling William’s Range Rover every other week… But hopefully, the project will be saved when, in a casting coup, grumpy old Prince Charles ends up being played by grumpy old Ed Asner…
Of course, any discussion about a royal marriage has to include some questions about succession to the throne, and it seems that William and Kate have already thoroughly thought this issue through. In an interview this morning with William and Kate following the big announcement, one correspondent asked them if once the nuptials were completed, the royal couple planned on starting a family…”Absolutely, we‘d like to produce an heir to the throne,” William replied. “And we most definitely expect our first-born son will someday become king -- in about 150 years when Grand-Mum Elizabeth dies…”
In the end though, I'm sure all of Britain is awaiting this special event with eager anticipation, and in my head, I can already hear the chimes of the great British cathedrals tolling out the joyous news... Let's just hope that on their wedding day, we don't hear them ringing out "I slept with your sister, say the bells of Westminster"...
Sunday, November 7, 2010
So Long, Daylight Savings Time
Well, it's finally here, the day when the cold, windy days of autumn also become the cold, windy, dark days of autumn. The day when that chill you feel seems to bring back memories of walking through wet slush and fumbling for your car keys when it's only 4:30 and you've decided to leave work early and the parking lot's already pitch black. The day when it seems our temperament and disposition take a sudden downturn for no other reason than our bodies are craving the sunshine and suffering from the lack thereof.
I'm sure that numerous books and articles have been written on the topic of Seasonal Affective Disorder (appropriately acronymed SAD), and how to deal with it, but as a public service (and because I didn't have anything else planned to fill this space today – maybe I should start renting it out to campers), I thought maybe a few suggestions that seem to have helped me over the years would be in order:
10) Involve yourself in some sort of activity to keep your mind off those extended periods of no sunlight. My favorite is to play the video games “Doom”, “Lords of Shadow” and “Curse of Darkness” for hours on end.
9). Make good use of your time by performing some type of civic function, such as working out a solution to solve the nation's economic woes. Give yourself till next April when Daylight Savings Time starts again and then send it to the clowns in Washington who will probably still be in the dark over their spending issues.
8) Think positively. Convince yourself that the less sunlight there is, the less chance you have of developing skin cancer – unless of course, you decide to spend the major part of the next four months in a tanning booth.
7) Stay medicated. Though not the best recommended solution, this can often be a good short term remedy. If you schedule it right, with the proper pharmaceuticals, you can lay out a timetable for yourself so that you'll only be conscious during daylight hours.
6) Try something to get the adrenalin flowing again: If you play a musical instrument, get it out and start playing a song you hate until you're ready to throw the damn thing through the nearest window. I play the guitar, and for me, about 80 verses of “Indiana Wants Me, Lord I Can't Go Back There” usually does the trick.
5) In order to not let a feeling of loneliness start to overtake you, have a get-together with friends and neighbors and hold a contest to see who can bay at the moon like a wolf the loudest.
4) Take steps to create some artificial sunshine. Go buy yourself a giant rotating searchlight and aim it at your bedroom window.
3) Having a sense of humor about it always helps. Just as a practical joke, knock on your neighbor's door, and when he answers it, ask him why it seems to be darker over his house than anyone else's on the block. When he gives you a strange look, ask him if he'd like you to bring your guitar over and start playing “Indiana Wants Me” for him. When he snarls at you with an angry ”No! I've had to listen to you do that stupid song at least a thousand times. Now can it!”, re-aim your searchlight at his bedroom window.
2) Keep reminding yourself that the short days and long nights aren't going to last forever. If you can get through Thanksgiving, and then Christmas or Hanukkah, and then New Year's, and then Super Bowl Sunday, and then -– oh shit, it IS going to last forever, isn't it?...
1) And finally, if all else fails, screw it. Don't even bother to set your clocks back, meaning you'll end up showing up an hour early for work, which will probably impress the hell out of your boss, and leave the office an hour earlier than normal, which will impress the hell out of your co-workers -- or make them resent you for doing it, depending on how they're being affected by the ongoing gloom.
Anyone else got some good suggestions?
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Paul is Dead
Some sad news to pass on, dear friends. Word swept through the Internet yesterday that Paul the prognosticating octopus, who correctly predicted the winner of all seven of Germany's matches in this year’s World Cup soccer tournament as well as the final match, thereby enabling millions of dollars that were bet around the world to change hands, has died. He leaves a wife, two children, and eight tentacles.
Officials at the German aquarium where Paul had taken up residence in the last year broke the tragic news on Tuesday. They said they discovered Paul motionless and smiling.
"At least he went peacefully," one official noted. "When we saw him floating at the top of his tank, we just thought he had gas." .
In Spain, winners of this year’s World Cup championship, King Juan Carlos II declared a national day of mourning. Taking a break from his lunch of sardinas a la plancha, His Majesty commented, “Gee, I was really sad to see little Pablo go. Everyone in Europe was hoping he’d also be able to predict exactly when Greece’s economy would finally go belly-up.”
Despite his newfound celebrity status, it appeared that Paul continued to maintain a fairly modest lifestyle, embracing none of the accoutrements of fame. To my knowledge, there are no reports that he ever demanded a stretch limo with a Jacuzzi in the back, or that his tank be filled only with Perrier. Even under the glare of lights from the press and paparazzi, sporting a pair of Oakleys or a Rolex just wasn’t his style.
And though he probably would have felt right at home in the company of an SI Swimsuit Issue cover girl, he was definitely never seen with a supermodel or two (or three, or eight) on one of his arms. While the rest of the world made a big deal out of it, Paul was content to just stay in his tank, squirt ink and change colors now and then.
The passing of Paul leads one to wonder what creature from the animal kingdom might emerge in 2014 to perform the job of predicting that year’s tournament results, and there are already whispers as to who may have the inside track. Perhaps it might come from South Africa, host of this year’s tournament, where, oh, say an ostrich named Otto will predict the results depending on which hole in the sand he sticks his head into. Or how about Benny the18-foot Burmese python, who will pick the winners depending on which house pet or tribal chieftain it decides to swallow whole. One candidate which I’m certain will have no chance whatsoever is the South American tree sloth, which is so slow that any match would have already been over for a good two weeks before it got around to making a choice.
But back to Paul. There’s been some discussion as to where Paul’s final resting place should be -- at the German aquarium which has been home to him for the last year or so, or perhaps a museum where he could be both venerated and studied to try and determine from where his remarkable talent came. My personal feeling, however, is that since he was responsible for so much money being won -- or lost, depending on which way you bet -- on the World Cup, there’s only one truly appropriate place for him to end up: yes, friends, Paul deserves to be enshrined at Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas, where those who won and those who lost based on Paul’s predictions could go and bless or curse him, depending how much you dropped taking the word of an animal that I’m sure didn’t give a damn about either soccer or your bank account in the first place.
Future residences aside though, let’s just remember the fun and enjoyment that hearing about Paul’s remarkable achievement brought us this past summer -- and in his honor, take a moment to bow our heads in silence before we dig into our calamari.
I’m sure he’s up there somewhere in octoheaven, laughing at us all.
Officials at the German aquarium where Paul had taken up residence in the last year broke the tragic news on Tuesday. They said they discovered Paul motionless and smiling.
"At least he went peacefully," one official noted. "When we saw him floating at the top of his tank, we just thought he had gas." .
In Spain, winners of this year’s World Cup championship, King Juan Carlos II declared a national day of mourning. Taking a break from his lunch of sardinas a la plancha, His Majesty commented, “Gee, I was really sad to see little Pablo go. Everyone in Europe was hoping he’d also be able to predict exactly when Greece’s economy would finally go belly-up.”
Despite his newfound celebrity status, it appeared that Paul continued to maintain a fairly modest lifestyle, embracing none of the accoutrements of fame. To my knowledge, there are no reports that he ever demanded a stretch limo with a Jacuzzi in the back, or that his tank be filled only with Perrier. Even under the glare of lights from the press and paparazzi, sporting a pair of Oakleys or a Rolex just wasn’t his style.
And though he probably would have felt right at home in the company of an SI Swimsuit Issue cover girl, he was definitely never seen with a supermodel or two (or three, or eight) on one of his arms. While the rest of the world made a big deal out of it, Paul was content to just stay in his tank, squirt ink and change colors now and then.
The passing of Paul leads one to wonder what creature from the animal kingdom might emerge in 2014 to perform the job of predicting that year’s tournament results, and there are already whispers as to who may have the inside track. Perhaps it might come from South Africa, host of this year’s tournament, where, oh, say an ostrich named Otto will predict the results depending on which hole in the sand he sticks his head into. Or how about Benny the18-foot Burmese python, who will pick the winners depending on which house pet or tribal chieftain it decides to swallow whole. One candidate which I’m certain will have no chance whatsoever is the South American tree sloth, which is so slow that any match would have already been over for a good two weeks before it got around to making a choice.
But back to Paul. There’s been some discussion as to where Paul’s final resting place should be -- at the German aquarium which has been home to him for the last year or so, or perhaps a museum where he could be both venerated and studied to try and determine from where his remarkable talent came. My personal feeling, however, is that since he was responsible for so much money being won -- or lost, depending on which way you bet -- on the World Cup, there’s only one truly appropriate place for him to end up: yes, friends, Paul deserves to be enshrined at Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas, where those who won and those who lost based on Paul’s predictions could go and bless or curse him, depending how much you dropped taking the word of an animal that I’m sure didn’t give a damn about either soccer or your bank account in the first place.
Future residences aside though, let’s just remember the fun and enjoyment that hearing about Paul’s remarkable achievement brought us this past summer -- and in his honor, take a moment to bow our heads in silence before we dig into our calamari.
I’m sure he’s up there somewhere in octoheaven, laughing at us all.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
My first blog... Please be gentle
These days, there probably isn't anyone who hasn't either been, or knows someone who has been personally affected by the most recently added component of The Great American Dream, namely, being laid off... And whether it was temporary or permanent (or something that ultimately shoved you into going in another completely different direction as happened to me), it still hurts when it happens, to think that someone whom you were counting on to make sure your paycheck had your name spelled right and your security pass let you in the building every day no longer wants you to grovel for them.With me, it happened several years back the week before Christmas... I was hoping that maybe they would make it as painless as possible by having Andy Williams come around to my desk to break the news as only Andy could in his friendly easygoing manner -- in song:
“Happy Holiday... Here's your severance pay...
Please start cleaning out your office, and be out of here by two....”
But actually, since Halloween is a little over ten days away, once I started to think about it, while losing your job right before Christmas might be rough to deal with, what might be even more bizarre would be getting called into your Human Resources office on October 31, just as the HR department was getting ready for its Halloween party......
I headed down the hallway in response to the call that just came into my desk from one of the HR people, and entered the HR office to find the conference room being turned into a chamber of horrors. Orange and green floodlights set in fixtures on the floor now provided the only illumination in the room. Admins and staff, all dressed in Halloween costumes were busy setting the conference table with pumpkins, dishes full of candy corn, trays of donuts and bowls of cider, and the ceiling was being strung with orange and black streamers along with bats, ghouls and goblins.
As I took in the sight, I heard someone call my name from the other side of the open office area, and looked over to see the head of HR – only now he wasn't the head of HR, now he was Hannibal Lechter, complete with the mask and bound to a handcart by a series of leather straps and metal buckles... Funny, but I suddenly remembered that I'd had dreams of him looking exactly like that.
“Hello, Tom,” he spoke in a low deliberate, breathy, slightly sinister voice through the grille in the mask. “Last minute changes.“
I fumbled for a minute, then to kind of break the awkwardness of the moment, commented “I can see. Something big happening today I assume.” I gestured toward the conference room.
“Well, sort of,” he replied. “Miss Jones, would you please bring in Mr. Quigley's file?”
“Cominnnnng!” I heard in a trilly, high-pitched warble from around the corner. In an instant, in breezed his admin, no longer the sweet kindly old woman with the blue hair that I'd always run into in the break room when I stopped to get a beverage to wash down my anti-depressants with. Now she was Glinda, the good Witch of the North. She directed a bright, sparkly smile towards me as she placed my file on his desk and then, perhaps as if to try and make the file open itself, waved the wand over it several times. I started to sweat.
”Have a seat,” Hannibal breathed.
With my body shaking, I lowered myself into the chair nearest his desk and waited for what was next...
“Tom,” he began, “you know we've always had the utmost respect for all our employees, and have tried to treat everyone as fairly as possible.” I glanced over at the conference room where they were starting to hang skeletons and severed heads from the ceiling.
“But...” I replied, anticipating something negative was about to be divulged.
“You seem to be way ahead of me, Tom.” God, there was that deliberate voice again. “Which is why I've always enjoyed matching wits with you. Your powers of cogitative reasoning have probably already led you to conclude what I'm about to tell you.''
I started to hyperventilate. “You – you mean I'm being let go?!!!” I stammered back.
Hannibal tried to nod his head but the restraints kept him from doing so.... He glanced over at Glinda. “Uh, Miss Jones, could you please...”
“Oh! Sorr--e-e-e-e!” she warbled as she loosened the strap around his forehead.
“Yes, Tom. I'm afraid we have no other choice.”
I was stunned. Speechless. I started to think, what could I have possibly done to merit this? Could it have been the fact that every time one of my bosses visited my cubicle they caught me playing Sudoku on my computer?... The extra pens, staplers and reams of paper I'd pilfered from the copier room in the hopes that one day I'd realize my lofty dreams of running my own business supplies store out of the trunk of my car?... Or how about the dartboard with a picture of the company president I had hanging up over my desk? All minor offenses to be sure, requiring no more than a slap on the wrist... I just couldn't fathom it.
I began to rise out of my chair. “But – but... This isn't real! This can't be happening!”
“Look at it this way," Glinda trilled as sweetly as possible. “This will be so much easier to accept if you were to just start clicking your heels together three times and keep repeating 'There's no place like home.... There's no place like home....There's no place like home...'”
“Oh, wait! I see what's going on here -- what the two of you are trying to do!” I retorted, sitting back down. “I can see it perfectly! Give the man the bad news and then try and make it not hurt so badly! It's the old good cop, bad cop thing!”
“Actually,” Glinda replied, “It's more like the old 'Are you a good witch or a bad witch?' thing.”
Hannibal continued. “In any event, we've been given the orders from top level management that costs have to be cut and uh, 'sacrifices' have to be made – in a manner of speaking of course.” That voice was really starting to grate on me.
“So that's all there is to it then, is that it?” I replied. “No ifs, ands, or buts. Just 'Here's your coat, what's your hurry?' Tell me, how many other poor Bozos around here are you letting go today?"
At that moment, a side office door opened and some guy dressed like a clown walked through it, slowly shaking his head and looking down at the floor with the most sullen expression I've ever seen.
“Only one,” Hannibal breathed as I watched Bozo head towards the outer door. “Mr. Jarvis, head of sales. Too bad. He was our number one guy when it came to presenting our dog and pony show to clients. But we caught him trying to juggle too many things in the process.”
“Like what?” I asked.
"Mainly his expense reports," he breathed. "But I think that's it."
“Oh, and don't forget, Toto too!” Glinda chimed in.
“Oh, right. Akiyama Toto over in the IT department. Need to remember to pull his file.” He gestured with his one free finger towards a filing cabinet by the wall. Glinda dutifully headed in that direction and I heard a filing cabinet drawer open as she sing-songed “Come out, come out wherever you are!”
Hannibal breathed again. “Now, then Tom...” God, that voice was really creeping me out. “If you don't have any questions, there's some paperwork we have to sign.”
Glinda set some papers down on the desk and offered me a pen – actually she offered me her magic wand which turned out to have a pen on one end of it. “Courtesy of our printer cartridge supplier,” she smiled, “Twinkle Office Supplies.”
“Not out of the trunk of a car, I hope,” I muttered. She smiled and demurely pointed to the place I needed to sign on the document. I took the magic wand and looked at her. “Any chance that if I wave this thing over it, it'll disappear?' I asked.
I scrawled my signature on the severance papers, then pushed them across the desk for Hannibal to sign. He tried to free a hand, but those leather straps – well you know. “Uh, Miss Jones...?”
“Oops! Sorr-e-e-e-!” She loosened one strap just enough for him to reach out to the desk. “Nice lady, but just a little bit flighty sometimes,” he told me as he picked up the magic wand and signed his name.
“No kidding,” I observed.
“Well, I guess this means that this is the end of our 'relationship', Tom.” he said, then lowering his voice to as quiet and deliberate a level as he could and still be audible. “Sorry to have it end under such ad...verse cir...cum...stances... At the very least, perhaps I could offer you some cider and donuts?”
“Uh, no thanks,” I replied. “Not really in the mood for cider and donuts right now.”
“Well then, maybe, how about a glass of very dry chianti?”I shook my head.
“Fava beans?” he added with a small chuckle. I pulled myself up out of the chair. God, that voice...
“Uh, nah...”
“Liver?”
“Liver?!” I yelped. “Whose?!!... Boy, you really enjoy taking this to the max, don't you!” I began to head for the door.
“Sorry,” he said, finally in his normal voice. “I just got a little carried away. By the way, if it means anything to you, this wasn't my first choice for a costume. They ran out of the Bernie Madoffs.”
“Uh, yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” I replied.
I turned and stormed out the door. As I tramped down the hallway, Glinda, who practically floated along beside me, tried to make me see the bright side of the whole ordeal. “Think of it this way, Tom,” she offered cheerily. “You could have gotten up this morning and had a house fall on you.”
“Gee, thanks for the uplifting thought,” I replied. “Have a nice day.”
“You too!”
And as I headed out of the building, and across the parking lot and unlocked the door of my car , I could still see that witch, waving her wand and calling out in that high warbly trill, “Good-bye!... Good-bye!... Good-bye!...”
“Happy Holiday... Here's your severance pay...
Please start cleaning out your office, and be out of here by two....”
But actually, since Halloween is a little over ten days away, once I started to think about it, while losing your job right before Christmas might be rough to deal with, what might be even more bizarre would be getting called into your Human Resources office on October 31, just as the HR department was getting ready for its Halloween party......
I headed down the hallway in response to the call that just came into my desk from one of the HR people, and entered the HR office to find the conference room being turned into a chamber of horrors. Orange and green floodlights set in fixtures on the floor now provided the only illumination in the room. Admins and staff, all dressed in Halloween costumes were busy setting the conference table with pumpkins, dishes full of candy corn, trays of donuts and bowls of cider, and the ceiling was being strung with orange and black streamers along with bats, ghouls and goblins.
As I took in the sight, I heard someone call my name from the other side of the open office area, and looked over to see the head of HR – only now he wasn't the head of HR, now he was Hannibal Lechter, complete with the mask and bound to a handcart by a series of leather straps and metal buckles... Funny, but I suddenly remembered that I'd had dreams of him looking exactly like that.
“Hello, Tom,” he spoke in a low deliberate, breathy, slightly sinister voice through the grille in the mask. “Last minute changes.“
I fumbled for a minute, then to kind of break the awkwardness of the moment, commented “I can see. Something big happening today I assume.” I gestured toward the conference room.
“Well, sort of,” he replied. “Miss Jones, would you please bring in Mr. Quigley's file?”
“Cominnnnng!” I heard in a trilly, high-pitched warble from around the corner. In an instant, in breezed his admin, no longer the sweet kindly old woman with the blue hair that I'd always run into in the break room when I stopped to get a beverage to wash down my anti-depressants with. Now she was Glinda, the good Witch of the North. She directed a bright, sparkly smile towards me as she placed my file on his desk and then, perhaps as if to try and make the file open itself, waved the wand over it several times. I started to sweat.
”Have a seat,” Hannibal breathed.
With my body shaking, I lowered myself into the chair nearest his desk and waited for what was next...
“Tom,” he began, “you know we've always had the utmost respect for all our employees, and have tried to treat everyone as fairly as possible.” I glanced over at the conference room where they were starting to hang skeletons and severed heads from the ceiling.
“But...” I replied, anticipating something negative was about to be divulged.
“You seem to be way ahead of me, Tom.” God, there was that deliberate voice again. “Which is why I've always enjoyed matching wits with you. Your powers of cogitative reasoning have probably already led you to conclude what I'm about to tell you.''
I started to hyperventilate. “You – you mean I'm being let go?!!!” I stammered back.
Hannibal tried to nod his head but the restraints kept him from doing so.... He glanced over at Glinda. “Uh, Miss Jones, could you please...”
“Oh! Sorr--e-e-e-e!” she warbled as she loosened the strap around his forehead.
“Yes, Tom. I'm afraid we have no other choice.”
I was stunned. Speechless. I started to think, what could I have possibly done to merit this? Could it have been the fact that every time one of my bosses visited my cubicle they caught me playing Sudoku on my computer?... The extra pens, staplers and reams of paper I'd pilfered from the copier room in the hopes that one day I'd realize my lofty dreams of running my own business supplies store out of the trunk of my car?... Or how about the dartboard with a picture of the company president I had hanging up over my desk? All minor offenses to be sure, requiring no more than a slap on the wrist... I just couldn't fathom it.
I began to rise out of my chair. “But – but... This isn't real! This can't be happening!”
“Look at it this way," Glinda trilled as sweetly as possible. “This will be so much easier to accept if you were to just start clicking your heels together three times and keep repeating 'There's no place like home.... There's no place like home....There's no place like home...'”
“Oh, wait! I see what's going on here -- what the two of you are trying to do!” I retorted, sitting back down. “I can see it perfectly! Give the man the bad news and then try and make it not hurt so badly! It's the old good cop, bad cop thing!”
“Actually,” Glinda replied, “It's more like the old 'Are you a good witch or a bad witch?' thing.”
Hannibal continued. “In any event, we've been given the orders from top level management that costs have to be cut and uh, 'sacrifices' have to be made – in a manner of speaking of course.” That voice was really starting to grate on me.
“So that's all there is to it then, is that it?” I replied. “No ifs, ands, or buts. Just 'Here's your coat, what's your hurry?' Tell me, how many other poor Bozos around here are you letting go today?"
At that moment, a side office door opened and some guy dressed like a clown walked through it, slowly shaking his head and looking down at the floor with the most sullen expression I've ever seen.
“Only one,” Hannibal breathed as I watched Bozo head towards the outer door. “Mr. Jarvis, head of sales. Too bad. He was our number one guy when it came to presenting our dog and pony show to clients. But we caught him trying to juggle too many things in the process.”
“Like what?” I asked.
"Mainly his expense reports," he breathed. "But I think that's it."
“Oh, and don't forget, Toto too!” Glinda chimed in.
“Oh, right. Akiyama Toto over in the IT department. Need to remember to pull his file.” He gestured with his one free finger towards a filing cabinet by the wall. Glinda dutifully headed in that direction and I heard a filing cabinet drawer open as she sing-songed “Come out, come out wherever you are!”
Hannibal breathed again. “Now, then Tom...” God, that voice was really creeping me out. “If you don't have any questions, there's some paperwork we have to sign.”
Glinda set some papers down on the desk and offered me a pen – actually she offered me her magic wand which turned out to have a pen on one end of it. “Courtesy of our printer cartridge supplier,” she smiled, “Twinkle Office Supplies.”
“Not out of the trunk of a car, I hope,” I muttered. She smiled and demurely pointed to the place I needed to sign on the document. I took the magic wand and looked at her. “Any chance that if I wave this thing over it, it'll disappear?' I asked.
I scrawled my signature on the severance papers, then pushed them across the desk for Hannibal to sign. He tried to free a hand, but those leather straps – well you know. “Uh, Miss Jones...?”
“Oops! Sorr-e-e-e-!” She loosened one strap just enough for him to reach out to the desk. “Nice lady, but just a little bit flighty sometimes,” he told me as he picked up the magic wand and signed his name.
“No kidding,” I observed.
“Well, I guess this means that this is the end of our 'relationship', Tom.” he said, then lowering his voice to as quiet and deliberate a level as he could and still be audible. “Sorry to have it end under such ad...verse cir...cum...stances... At the very least, perhaps I could offer you some cider and donuts?”
“Uh, no thanks,” I replied. “Not really in the mood for cider and donuts right now.”
“Well then, maybe, how about a glass of very dry chianti?”I shook my head.
“Fava beans?” he added with a small chuckle. I pulled myself up out of the chair. God, that voice...
“Uh, nah...”
“Liver?”
“Liver?!” I yelped. “Whose?!!... Boy, you really enjoy taking this to the max, don't you!” I began to head for the door.
“Sorry,” he said, finally in his normal voice. “I just got a little carried away. By the way, if it means anything to you, this wasn't my first choice for a costume. They ran out of the Bernie Madoffs.”
“Uh, yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” I replied.
I turned and stormed out the door. As I tramped down the hallway, Glinda, who practically floated along beside me, tried to make me see the bright side of the whole ordeal. “Think of it this way, Tom,” she offered cheerily. “You could have gotten up this morning and had a house fall on you.”
“Gee, thanks for the uplifting thought,” I replied. “Have a nice day.”
“You too!”
And as I headed out of the building, and across the parking lot and unlocked the door of my car , I could still see that witch, waving her wand and calling out in that high warbly trill, “Good-bye!... Good-bye!... Good-bye!...”
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