"Crayons!" theme ... Storm!
Throwback Christmas blog post of the week is one of my favorite and best-loved stories. It happened word-for-word just as related and the whole thing took just 20 minutes to write. I include it in two of my books (“Undaunted Optimist,” and “Use All The Crayons! Deluxe). I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the guy since. Thank God. This, from ’10, is, “The lies we all long to hear.”
Today’s theme: Storm!
• What percentage of malevolent Irma viewers are actively rooting to see an on-air storm chaser get beheaded by a flying pizza box?
• On this chilly winter day I just saw a man at the bus stop wearing nothing but a musical bellows. He was dressed accordioningly.
• We have blankets of snow and sheets of ice. Anyone know where I can find a good slush pillow?
• Powerful thunderstorms through nudist colony could lead to flesh flooding.
• People say "not a snowball’s chance in hell,” like they’re privy to the forecast. In my hell, there will be tons of snow.
• It’s going to take a lot of commitment I fear we cannot summon, but if we all become less intent on such mass agitation, the calm before the storm will one day become the calm before the calm.
• It’s often said of snowflakes no two are ever alike, but what about popcorn? Needs further study. Too bad I eat most of my popcorn in dark.
• I have read that tribes native to Arctic climes have 47 words to describe snow. I have just as many to describe farts.
• “Frostalgia” is the glazed half smile that freezes your friend's face whenever you try and show them treasured family photos from your last vacation and out of politeness they feel compelled to act like they care.
Random randoms …
• Because it would suggest modernization and would require the change of just a handful of letters, I suggest we change the name of the Walter Reed Army Medical Center to the Walter O'Reilly Army Medical Center.
• I would think one of the most difficult things in nature would be being a praying mantis and trying to explain to your parents that you've lost your faith (and that is the correct spelling).
• I admit to feelings of wistfulness over not having sired a son. These feelings pass when I realize a son would by now be asking me, "Daddy, would you help me secure my man bun?" And to my everlasting shame I'd feel obliged to assist.
• Fancy shaving ads about ease of accessing those "hard-to-reach" places crack me up. Hard to reach? I'm shaving my face, not the gnarled butt of some Mongolian yak 20,000 feet up the Himalayas.
• Told daughter, 14, Eagles "Hotel California" was originally going to be called "Hotel Pennsylvania" but The Golden State came up with tax breaks to secure naming rights. Her scornful reaction made me nostalgic for the days when daughters would fall for any line of crap.
Author’s note …
It’s Christmas. Have you been enjoying these newsletters for free all year? Longer? Today would be a great day to express your gratitude through a donation or book purchase .(PayPal, Venmo, 874 Solomon Temple Rd., Latrobe, Pa, 15650).
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