OOPS-12-23-17-David A. Myers
This one is straight off the top of my head…something about not having any hair to hold onto. DUH.
I make a LOT of mistakes. big ‘uns and little ‘uns.
I am ok with that, because of a story I read about Albert Einstein when he took the job offered to him at a big university (Princeton…I think).
His recruiter asked him what he (Mr.E.) would need to do his new job. Mr. Einstein pondered a while then gave the man a list. The usual stuff for a classroom, desk, chair, pencils, paper, and a 55 gallon drum without a lid.
The astonished man asked him what the drum was for. My E. replied, “oh It’s a trash can, I make a lot of mistakes”.
Funny how we hear about how great someone is, only to find out they are all exactly like the rest of us(Well, except for the genius types)…and even they aren’t perfect. Not by a long shot.
So what is the difference. For this I’ll go with Thomas Edison who gave a sweet formula: Genius= 1%inspiration, 99% perspiration.
Yep It all comes down to work. That’s also why great art of any kind is called a work of art….WORK.
So, when I fail miserably at something I enjoy, but ain”t very good at, I remember that failure is also a wonderful learning tool. So, instead of griping and complaining about it…I study it to find out what I Don’t know…then learn it, then proceed until the next fail point. Rinse. Repeat.
Long story short….I have and will make tons of mistakes, but I also ain’t gonna quit.
Have a wonderful evening, or day, or whatever trips yer trigger. See ya tomorrow with my last (for this year) Santa story.
Then It’ll be on to even stranger and hopefully entertaining stories, songs, scenarios, and smart assed quips about practically everything
As usual: Not for children nor humorously challenged people
Santa is Downsizing-©12-15-17-David A. Myers
Before I start this story: In no way am I dissing the Mexicans in America. Hell, I’d headed this way too, if I weren’t already here. DUH !
Santa is downsizing…well, not him, but he is getting rid of a bunch of nasty reindeer…Goin’ to Super Chihuahuas. He says that’s because there are so many Mexicans in hiding in the U.S., he’s havin’ trouble finding them on Christmas Eve Night….or any other time….especially in ICY weather. Ok, on sunny days too, thanks to the Guv’ment.
Anyhow, says the Large One, dogs are much better than reindeer at finding hidden Mexicans, and besides, dogs eat much less and are usually house broke, which means his Elves don’t have to clean up big piles of reindeer shit everywhere they go, and only occasionally piss in all the prize rose beds that old Rude Off usually destroys.
Of course, there is a downside to havin’ his heavily loaded sleigh pulled by a bunch of small mutts, so, in order to keep his delivery schedule intact, he’s gonna install a couple of jet engines and hook the dogs to the rear of his sleigh…just keep them handy for appearances’ sake.
Oh well, I had fun writing another exciting Santa Story…just in time to trash him right before Christmas Eve Night.
One more Santa story after this one, then nothing until after Christmas, then I go really strange….
Coming soon to a computer near you…Space Aliens From Andromeda…scary huh?
As Usual, with a lot of my silly stories, they ain’t fer th’ kiddies nor them critters(people) with no sense of humor.
Sandy Claws©2017-David A. Myers
I got the engine running full blast with the heater on high. Still freezin’ my little butt off though. Not positive but I think the high today is gonna be somewhere in the mid 50’s F. Yuk. Tonight we’ll be in the mid 30’s. Double Yuk! Makes me a very happy camper to NOT live any further north than Houston, give me heat. I can handle that by staying in my nicely air conditioned house, thank you very much. Duh. In cold weather, even with the heater runnin’ full blast I shiver from the chill.
I understand how a very well insulated(fat) Sandy Claws can handle it, but I can also identify quite miserably with his slaves…oops, elves. I know why he refuses to heat their barracks. They must cuddle for warmth at night and they tend to pair boy elf with girl elf and that in turn leads somehow to an increased population of baby elves. Which, by the way, are very cute and cuddly themselves…which in turn has old Sandy Claws hisself pickin’ out the cutest to dangle on his knee, so he can teach them at an early age how to properly please their master…which rhymes with bastard…and pervert and asshole.
What the crotchety old elf don’t know is that he has a spy amongst his horde of slaves…oops, elves. And what he don’t know is gonna truly ruin his reputation in a few years when those porn pictures he is the star of, all get published on the internet.
The part that’s gonna embarrass him the most is the close up of his lil smokey tryin’ to stand up straight and smile for the camera. Remember, the male of the species, be it man or elf, has two heads, but usually thinks with the one with no brain….hey, where’d you think the phrase “no brainer” came from? I rest my case!
Old Sandy is gonna get piled high with lawsuits and litigation from about a thousand elves( mostly female)…Nah, lets don’t go there, just read the news and you’ll probably get it.
Oh yeah, since he was created by the Coky Colee advertising department, he is required to drink that substance(laced with coke of course), while sharing it with a polar bear….Well, they they also like snack food to go with the coke…guess what they prefer as a good snack?
Yep, small elf sandwiches are quite popular with polar bears and they are pleased to be entertained by old fat elves who feed them such delicious dainties….so often. Also it gives him(Sandy Claws) a way to remove the small elf who asked him(after about an hour of dangling) is it in yet?
Poor little elf should know better then to ask that about lil smokey. Dumbass elf!
Oh well, there are plenty more where that one came from and besides he(Sandy Claws) needs to cut down on the elf overpopulation caused by inadequate heating of their barracks.
Sigh! I have recently been chewed out for dissing Sandy Claws. I mean it, she was totally pissed off at me.. I told her I ain’t dissin’ nobody. The facts are plain to see for anybody who will just pick up a recent copy of the Nationalist Expunger and read the story(pictures extra). Hell man, they have to get them from Thailand. They make the best porn pictures on earth and they are who hires the spies inserted in amongst all those poor nameless elves who are freezing their little asses off for Sandy Claws.
Oh well, someday, if ISlam conquers America and all that Sandy Claws shit will disappear.
Again with Santa Stories.
As Usual, Children and humorusly challenged need not apply. DUH!
Santa, Rude Off, And Angry Elf- 2012-David A. Myers
I wonder if Santa ever gets laid. Hmmm Well, Why does he hang out with all those elves? Hmmm Dirty Old Santa, gettin’ it on in the back of his sleigh. Wonder if it’s a Chevy or a Ford?…Sortof gives a new meaning to the North Pole!…Oh yeah!, and just what is Mrs. Santa doing all night…or should I say, who is she doing all night( hey, she’s all alone, in an empty house, in a secluded area…way the hell up North….
Hmmm Are we sure that it’s Rude Off’s Nose that is red? Some people do it with sheep. Why not reindeer?…Rude Off the Red Assed Reindeer? Hmmm Just a thought here, but Damn! If PITA found out; talk about a scandal. I can see the headlines…Santa Busted In Sex Slave Ring With Reindeer And Elves…They were found in chains, and were drugged to the gills too…
(Yes this was a mixed metaphor, but since this is my fantasy, you may need to just get used to it).
He claims it’s one of the “perks” of the responsibilities of delivering those billions of toys, all in one night! The stress levels, he says, have gotten out of control because of all the little boys and girls texting him with their “wish” lists(note the plural)(greedy little bastards). He says that texting him with these interminable list has got to stop. He can barely keep up, and besides, it’s bad for growing thumbs to be texting that much….
“Also”, says Santa, “Rude Off will be going into rehab soon, for his cocaine addiction. The first sign that he (Rude Off) was on dope was when he showed up for work with a shiny red nose…Hell man, your nose would be red too, if you snorted that much coke”!
“Besides”, he(Rude Off)” says he is sick and tired of getting constantly poked in the ass by the reindeer behind him. He is demanding a longer lead, says it hurts my pride almost as much as my ass”….
And while he’s at it, he wants to get that fat bastard out of the sleigh…Pulling that damned thing with every toy on the planet in it is enough…Ain’t gonna haul his fat ass around too!…”We ain’t Clydesdales”, he bemoans. “Besides they only haul beer. And if Mr. Santa Fat Claws can’t help pull this thing, at least he could score some more coke. Lazy bastard”! …
…Of course, Santa is copping an attitude about that “Birth of Jesus” thing…”Baloney”, he says, “It’s all about toys….Besides, Jesus saves, but Santa spends! Which one is better for the economy? You do the math!…Oh by the way, got any coke? I need a lift….I’ll trade you an elf for some”….
Now according to the Nationalist Expunger, Santa is hung like an elf, and rumor has it that his personal ASSistant is none other than Monique Elfinsky…Hmmm Is that what causes the North Wind?…Just curious! hmmm
Just think how easy it is for him to move his stash. Who would ever expect some jolly old elf to do anything “bad”…Tricky bastard.
Whenever he gets tired of one of his “helpers”, he just dumps them in Mexico… Another rumor has it that one of the reindeer is plotting to take over as soon as Santa gets sentenced. “It’s time for the elves of the world to take their places as the rightful leaders of toy delivery”! “We”, says the outspoken reindeer, “are much more efficient than some old fat guy. He needs to retire. And if that don’t work, we’ll have to resort to violence. Besides, his unnatural appetites are getting stranger by the day. He is totally out of control…Man! It ain’t safe to bend over in front of him. He gives a whole new meaning to hump day”.
Yep. Another NOT for Children Story. Get Used to it.
Santa-2-©2011-David A. Myers
Oh, bye the way, Merry Christmas Eve Day Evening! Damn! Is this Christmas, or Valentines Day, Eve? Lovers all over the place. Everyone being nice! What’s up with that? Oh I get it. They are being so nice. so Santa wont put reindeer shit in their stockings tonight…Be nice because that stuff ain’t.
Hmmmm No wonder Santa is so fat. He only works one day per year. Lazy bastard makes his elves do all the work. Ignores Mrs. Clause, and runs off to that big old hole in the Arctic ice cap. Hangs out with scantily clad Polar Babes, and generally just makes a nuisance of himself when he drags his sorry ass back home to make sure that those damned uppity elves and his overworked wife are on the job….
No wonder the Ice Cap is melting. That fat capitalist pig Santa is running a sweat shop at the North Pole…Hmmmm How does he keep his margaritas filled with ice…Just wondering…Also how the hell does he keep that stupid Pole At the North Pole Upright? Viagra? …Oh, he doesn’t? Oh, I see, that’s why the Earth has a tilt…Kool!
More Santa-©2012-David A. Myers
I often wonder why Santa allows a drunk reindeer to guide his sleigh…Kinda scary if you think about it…Well, a shiny red nose is usually a sure sign of drunkenness. And he has the gall to allow it on especially foggy nights. What’s he got a death wish or something? Plus an Olympic size sugar buzz from all that milk and cookie crap he has to eat at every fucking house he visits. Poor guy probably gains a couple of tons every trip.
Now I know why he only does that once a year. Well, one year he just couldn’t stand it anymore, so he went to Tahiti instead. Amazing what you can get when you have every toy imaginable….Yay native girls….It went fine until he got as drunk as Rudolph….He oughta know he aint got a chance to out drink that damned reindeer…Some people just don’t learn, Anyhow Drunk Santa aint real pretty when he sheds that huge red coat, and trades it in for a thong….That’s why he ain’t allowed to go there anymore….
Some people say it’s because all the people there converted to another religion, but we know that Christmas ain’t got a damned thing to do with the likes of Jesus’ Birthday…Oh Hell no…It’s Toys! Dammit Toys!
Not all my posts are for children nor humor challenged people. DUH !
Santa-1 ©2011-David A. Myers
By the way, I’m gonna get a restraining order put on Santa Fatso
Clausewitz and keep that fat sonofabitch off my roof. He and those nasty critters that drag that broken down sleigh of his all over the place are ruining my roof… I’ll sue him if he does it again this year(or any other)…Reindeer shit all over the place. I mean it. What the hell do those things eat? EXLAX? DAMN!!!!!
….Hey everybody…Hot news flash. Santa has recently been heard to say that he secretly puts that very substance in the reindeer feed just before his yearly flight. That’s his secret for making them move so fast…You’ve all probably heard the phrase Gotta piss like a racehorse, meaning movin’ really fast? Well, Mr. Santa, mentioned that it is amazing what ExLax will do to a reindeer…And hooking up nine of them is like cranking up a jet engine in a Volkswagen.
…Unfortunately, Mr. Clausewitz also admitted to fondling little children throughout his whole career. We offer as circumstantial evidence all these photos of footprints of ash, from the fireplace to children’s bedroom, into bedroom, then disappearing; then reappearing and leading back to the fireplace. If that ain’t bad enough, check out the front headlines and cover story in the Nationalist Enquiry for details about his ongoing affair with Vixen(she is kinda cute).
…Somethings gotta be done! He and his gang of thieves are ruining my home. Missing silverware, and God help me if I don’t put out enough milk and cookies(which he says he never eats because he is watching his weight…yeah, watching it get bigger)(we still talking about Santa’s weight here?). I’ll admit he never touches milk or cookies(except…never mind, some things just shouldn’t be mentioned)(in public). Anyhow, he and his gluttonous crew head straight to my liquor cabinet. Clean the damned thing out too. I have it locked like Fort Knox, but that don’t stop him. Oh hell no. Bastard even has the keys to Area 51, out there in Nevada…So my puny locks don’t even slow him down.
Now, all those Elves and the LARGE One getting shitfaced in my living room and molesting my children is bad enough but when they bring in those fucking reindeer, It’s too much…They stink up my house worse than, than, Hell there ain’t nothing to compare it to. Then they have the unmitigated gall to take it all up on my roof(or what’s left of it), then raise a ruckus that has every dog in the neighborhood howling like crazy, and generally trashing my front lawn. I even caught that asshole who thinks he is sooo cute. What’z his name? Oh yeah, Rude Off. What a strange name!….pissing in my prize flowerbed, then they just all fly off to fuck with the rest of the world…It’s almost enough to make a man convert to I Slam. (they don’t care much for Christmas)…Hmmm
…I think I’ll mount an air defense system and just blow ’em out of the sky when they come back next year. hehehe…I could mount Rude Off’s nose as a Christmas ornament or use it for a door knocker. I’ve heard that reindeer skin makes a really good rein coat! Nah Nah Nah. Stinks way too much!
Impossible -©David A. Myers 11-25-16
Anything is possible.
For instance: A penny fell out of my pocket as I was getting undressed and ready for bed. It landed on it’s edge on my bedside table and stayed there, for over a month. One chance in a trillion, but it happened.
I was driving on a lonely country road through hills and small valleys through a sortof brushy forest. I was doin’ over 80 miles per hour. Oops I thought. I took my foot off the accelerator and about two seconds later my front left bumper just barely ticked the heel of the biggest buck deer I’ve ever seen.
I was lonely. I cried out in the night.
Four days later we met.
Didn’t look back,
‘Till death did us part.
A sparrow on the ground, looked like a broken wing. I gently picked it up and stroked its head and back. Then I lifted it up. It flew away.
A lady asked for help. Her car wouldn’t start. The engine wouldn’t even turn over. I raised the hood to look. I only touched the battery. I asked her to try again. It started immediately, and ran fine from then on.
A door was stuck. Locked. No key. About six of us were waiting to get in. One after the other tried. No success. A couple of them even tried to cast a spell(I have met plenty of strange people). Still no go. They gave up in disgust. I simply reached out and turned the door knob and went in. They were flabbergasted. I just smiled.
A vicious guard dog on a broken chain lunged at me. Nothin’ to stop it. However, the poor dog stopped in mid air(or so it looked to me). Then tucked its tail between its legs and ran off howling.
I was invited to go to San Francisco. I declined. A month or so later I headed to Chicago, via thumb. Wound up flat broke in New Orleans. I was sitting in Jackson Square when a young fellow asked me if I would like to go to San Francisco and help him drive. We lived on a big block of cheese and a bottle of cheap wine. It took over four days. Almost three of them were in Texas. We were in an old beater that didn’t go very fast… I’ll never forget my first sight of that town. We drove through an area of condos(?) that were pure white. It was a mostly cloudy day. The sun broke through and shown a beam of bright light on the condos. Awesome!
We parted ways in the Haight Ashbury District. I still had no money. I was getting pretty hungry. I went for a walk through the area close to The Golden Gate Park. I came across a huge Catholic Cathedral. My curiosity got the best of me and I went in. They were having Mass. All I remembered of it was the Lords Prayer…Give us this day our daily bread. Yes I was hungry.
I went back to the park and sat down on a bench in the entrance. Not two minutes later a hippy group callin’ themselves The Diggers, came by and gave me a coffee can with freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven. Pure Ambrosia.
A day or two later I met a spiritual teacher. He asked my name. I told him and he asked me why I was late.
My car was off the road in a sideways skid at about forty miles per hour with three big power poles in my path. I’ve read that the worst thing to do in a skid is to slam on the brakes…so I did exactly that. It whipped my car around out of the ditch and now I was sliding backwards across the road to the other side that had an even deeper ditch. I finally got it stopped just as the right rear tire went over the culvert.
My boss just happened to drive by at that moment and complimented me on my driving skills.
I needed clean underwear so I just thanked him. I also told him to have a nice day. See ya tomorrow at work.
On a big family outing at Lake Houston, an older cousin who “knew” everything about everything decided to teach me how to water ski. He never even got up. I practically had to beg him to let me try. He condescended to allow it. I got up on those skis and practically owned that lake. For some strange reason he was no longer willing to show me anything.
The first time I ever played pool, my friends had to show me what to do. My turn to break came and I ran the table. I’ve never done that since.
I was taught the basics of chess by a certified chess master. Yep, I got him in a fools mate in three or four moves. I never even came close to beating him again.
In the eight grade—honor student, me, brought home a report card with a 97 average. The response I got was, why didn’t you make 100? From that point on it was summer school every year until my senior year when I dropped out completely. I was bored as hell. The only reason I graduated was because my friends ganged upon me and threatened to kick my ass if I didn’t just suck it up and finish it. I did. Barely.
After high school, I went DeVry Tech in Chicago. I was gonna be an electrical engineer. I didn’t do well because, by that time I was already way too invested in songwriting. I didn’t flunk out. Nope. Not me. I had a part time job at Saint Annes Hospital as the “TV” man. Back then if you wanted a tv in your room you rented it by the day. My job was to take care of that for the patients. I even had a small office in the sub basement, crammed with tv’s, right next door to the morgue. I was allowed to observe an autopsy. I didn’t do well there either. Anyhow, my school days ended when a tv got knocked off the top of my cart. It hit me in the head and knocked me out cold, i spent the next thirty days flat on my back. I really can’t complain, because that little accident kept me out of Viet Nam. Even Uncle Sugar didn’t want me. I still say that tv saved my life.
There are plenty more but after this I’ll stop…at least for now…I couldn’t sleep. I went to a restaurant for coffee, just to be out of the house. After a while I began to nod off so I went home. My house was on fire. At that time in my life I was suffering badly from grief over losing my wife when she died. Pure unadulterated hell… anyhow because I couldn’t sleep I am still alive today. The house fire ruined every piece of musical equipment I had, except for my guitars and all the music I had written. I still have the guitars and I keep those precious sheets of my songs in a big ziplock baggie. They still smell like smoke.
Have I always been this fortunate? Not by a long shot. I’ve had plenty of real tragedies to keep me balanced.
Oops. One more…Saturday. A work day for me. I went out for my normal routine of coffee before work. I began to feel a strong urge to go back home. Didn’t know why, but I am glad I did. A few hours later my beloved longtime wife, Pat died in my arms after a hellishly long deadly disease.. After that my life went straight to hell, but I can’t even imagine what it would have been like if I hadn’t gone back home.
That’s enough for now.