Welcome to Malarky Monday!
If you haven't been here, done that and bought the t-shirt
we take the first day of the week to see if we can get you to one simple thing:
Smile!
It's silly but we are having a hell of a time doing it.
This is our 'Silver Anniversary' week.
25 posts!
Be sure to visit my fellows in hijinx from the land of Oz after your brief visit here.

*Moe
*Morky
*Dilligaf

Thought I would bring back my little kitty friend from several weeks ago.
This time he's had a bit too much catnip.
Seems he really likes the stuff.

 

And never, EVER, trust a kangaroo.
the sneaky, bloody bastards . . . 

 

 

Don't leave home without these . . .
(wtf?)
Makes anything into a sandwich, huh?
Too bad they don't have pumpernickel . . .

 

Last but not least . . .
Have you been to the movies lately?
Mmmm . . .  yeah, I thought so.

Happy Malarky Monday folks!
Be sure to visit my whacky friends!

It was 5 years ago that I hit the 'publish' button for this post.
Many things have happened since that innocent and 'so me' post.
I like to think my writing has matured a bit and that I have taken many of you
on my journey down the road of life.
I want to thank each and every one of you for being a part of my life (good or bad)
for the past 5 years.
You have enlightened me, guided me, made me laugh and have given me solace when I needed it most.
You guys are incredible.
I will pat myself on the back for blatant consistency.
I think I can give me that.
There are several people I need to deeply thank.
Pamela, for believing in me when I no longer believe in myself. (and letting me know about it)
My three girls for keeping me on my  toes. Always.
For Jon, he keeps me cooking. I love cooking,
He is a man that will drive through hell and high water to have a bowl of my Cincinnati Chili,
Thanks, Jon
Last but not least, my family from Australia.
Maureen, Mark, Kelly.Zoe, Mel, Steve, Tash, Stick, Wil, Stella, Lucas, Issac, Max and all!
(who did I miss?)
Thanks to all that have visited and commented.
Read some '''old'''' Murph  . . . .
And watch the video at the end!

 

This is a piece I wrote several years ago but still seems to me to apply to the present day music industry.
I am still a musician at heart but venues to work in are drying up faster than a droplet of water in a bucket of dry sand.
It's an abysmal state of affairs these days musically and sadly we all saw it coming.
Some say business is cyclical. I wonder.
Hey, Paul McCartney played the halftime show Super Bowl Sunday, right?

Remembering Miss American Pie

The musicians of the 60’s and 70’s had a wealth of powerful and insightful compositions from which to draw their inspiration. The songs had shine and creative musical integrity that would forever set them apart from today’s musical mainstream.
The music spoke of the dynamic of the human experience; from love found and lost to political innuendo shaking hands with world peace.
The older generation frowned upon these freedoms of expression and saw the music created as an irrevocable evil to be stamped out in the hopes of ending the reign of terror that floated over the airwaves.
From the shaking hips of Elvis to the Mop-Tops from England to the androgynous and enigmatic David Bowie, the music written back then made us think and connect; it gave us an up close and personal view of the broken heart.
So what the hell happened to perceptive content?
Music, in its purest form is therapy, a most fundamental discipline of meditation the human race has, but along the way we altered the magic formula, ultimately changing its destiny as well.
It’s supposed to make you feel good.
Just think of a song that truly means something to you, take out a piece of paper, and jot down five things that come to mind immediately.
Chances are you can come up with more than ten.
That’s the miracle of music; when something unexpected touches the heart.
Much of what I hear today is tainted, biased and so musically inept that when I hear one of these prized gems, I can only wildly shake my head and slobber saliva like an angry PBR bull (which tends to make loved ones around me very uncomfortable).
A rule of thumb for future songwriters regarding lyrics: if it rhymes with shucking but has nothing to do with corn, get out a thesaurus and find another word.
The English language is chock full of them. Really.
It seems that few people write real songs anymore; that is a simple and yet sobering fact, not a generality. If it weren’t for artists like John Mayer and Dave Matthews, I’d have lost my mind by now.
Much of the music today is like bad poetry, arranged, set to a groove from the late eighties, and thrown into a 4,000 track, all digital recorder (yes, all the tracks must be used, read the contract).
Recently, while listening to a song on a brand X radio station out of Boston—the exact frequency slips my mind…you’re welcome—I remember thinking to myself, what language is this guy speaking?
I strained to hear anything remotely intelligible.
Musically speaking, the song was as mundane and pedestrian as an arrangement that oozes from a generic portable keyboard purchased at Wal-Mart.
I also thought that somewhere in the midst of this urban cacophony, I could hear the sound of a dog being run over and over, and over again… I’m not positive about that and maybe it’s just me. Somebody call the ASPCA.
The inspiration for this article came to me as I ambled down Main Street a few weeks ago (us old guys don’t walk, we amble…it’s much hipper) when a pulsating sub-compact Toyota Celica loaded with what sounded like two, maybe three 18-inch subwoofers drove past me towards City Hall, emitting music so thunderous it almost knocked down the lady walking next to me.
Initially, I thought it was just wind.
I didn’t get the license plate number because I was too busy bending over to retrieve my own two eyeballs off the sidewalk.
Sound pressure levels that can cause buildings to vibrate precariously…hmm, I wondered if the Slater Building was up to code on that one.
Nope, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
Then there’s the whole debacle surrounding present day artists hiding behind the 5th amendment, and we all can see what a gush of rotting sewage that is, but it doesn’t mean we have to buy a bucketful of it.
When a major proportion of the music available has a “parental advisory” sticker slapped on it, what’s left for those of us who prefer substance in what we listen to?
Maybe we need a special store that caters to people fed up with listening to music and lyrics that insult our intelligence with the glorification of worthless profanity while wasting our hard earned money on garbage that someone in the recording industry somehow deemed fit for human consumption. Bon appétit.
Maybe I’m not meant to understand what all the hype and excitement in the industry is about these days, because I’m no longer a child.
But there’s always that outside chance that as I struggle with my own foreseeable mid-life crisis, I’ll pleasantly discover that perhaps I’ve grown a little bit wiser in the process.
Just watch the Grammy Awards this year for a taste of the ultimate in garishness.
In the end, the music we choose to listen to and support should remain solely in the hands of the listener, but the overall message that it brings should be more of a boon to society as opposed to an outrage against the machine.
Comedian George Carlin hit the proverbial nail on the head when he stated that, “…inside every silver lining, there’s a dark cloud.”
Get out your umbrellas, kids; it looks like rain.

 

Happy 5 To S&M!!!!!!!
See you for the next five years . . .
I hope!

Malarky Monday seems to be coming around quicker and quicker these days.
This is the one day that 'Teh Blogocracy'
gets together and tries to make you giggle and spit.
We've had some real doozies so far so if you've yet to jump on the Malarky Monday bandwagon, what the
hell are you waiting for?
It's a friggin' hoot!
Bookmark us and come back every Monday for some seriously demented fun.
For me, this Monday's hijinx is all about the animals and pets.
They make our lives wonderful in so damn many ways.
All they ask in return is that we feed them now and again.
Here's to whacky world of our beloved animals . . .

 

Good doggie . . .
(now that's a trick to teach a dog!)

 

Bad doggie . . .
(when life gives you lemons, plant a flower and go on a canine diet!  Jesus Krispies!)

Good cat.
(Will somebody please give this totally awesome fatcat a can of  beer and a cigar?)
((I Love this cat! He's a furry-beer-bellied feline version of me!!!!!))

 

Bad LOL Cats . . . 
(could be Mafia-related)
((These guys mean business))

 

Move on and visit 'Teh Blogocracy'
The Godfather says so!

***

Moe

Morky

Dilligaf

 

Once again it is Malarky Monday and a chance to make you laugh and giggle.
If you don't smile once, I will refund your visit (although I'm not sure how)
For those of you following me on Facebook, click the links below! (and visit my mentally unstable fellows!)
This week is a collage of pics (some I edited) that I simply loved and made me laugh.
First up:

 

Poor Little Keeton
kitty loves Borat . . .

Way Too Much MSG . . .
Scorpion Bowls, too

Ever heard the phrase,
"I've never gone to bed with an ugly woman but I've woken up with a few"?
Screw the condoms, remember to bring your Postit notes.
At least you'll remember her name in the morning.
(approx weight. opt)

 

Last but not least, some software that never quite made it to the market.
Or MY computer . . .

 

 

Please visit my fellow COHORTS!
More laughs, more fun, more hijinx, more Malarky Monday!
Hooroo! (buh-bye Australian-style)

Moe
Morky
Dilligaf

 

 

It is Malarkey Monday once again. (almost, here in the States) Where the hell did the week go? I give up. I won't give up on the strange pics, vids and sites I've found this week though. Happy Malarkey Monday folks! Take the 'suck' out of your Monday and laugh a bit, okay? I won't keep you long . . . Never underestimate the power of a good story. It may save your life. Or not. Like Chinese food? So does John Pinette. Check it out. A picture for shits, giggles and some pussy humor . . . Do you like Halloween Desktop wallpaper? Click on the pic below and thank me later . . . Please visit my Malarkey Monday cohorts! They love the comments!!!!!

*Moe *Morky

It's Malarkey Monday once again and another opportunity for us to make you smile. I found a few very funny things this week. First up, a short video regarding what cats think: I'll have the chicken wings puhhlease . . . Me and my relationship with StumbleUpon . . . Please visit my fellow Malarkers! Happy Monday!

Moe Morky Muffy

A happy birthday to the original cat whisperer, Pamd. Love ya, milady. ~m ps. she's 35 again! Go figure.

I began reading the new Natalie Goldberg book  'Old Friend from Far Away' a few days ago. It's a book custom-tailored for writers of memoir. So far the book is quite good (like all of her books). Page 14 has a prompt that I've decided to turn into a post. The chapter is quite short: "Die" Tell me what you will miss when you die. When I die there will be many things that I will miss. This list went on for quite a few pages but I've chosen an abbreviated version for your perusal. If I included food you'd be here for a few days. I mostly chose things from the category 'matters of the heart'. Feel free to steal this as a 'meme'. For you writers visiting, it's a wonderful exercise. Do it. Even if you don't consider yourself a writer, it's worth your time. You can look at some of the things that really make your life worthwhile. Here I go.

I will miss:

-Whispers in the dark -Pamela's eyes, voice, face and beautiful soul -hearing the phrase, "I love you, Daddy," whispered in my ear -my three beautiful girls -the sound of little footsteps coming down the stairs on Christmas morning -my sister, my twin, the other part of my very soul -Caitlin's smile -Ryan's loveable way (and awesome jumpshot) -Billy's laugh -All the people I truly love (if I've talked to you in the past year, consider yourself on this list) -a warm and gentle rain -the silent beauty of falling snow (yeah, I wrote that) -the sound of surf at the Cape -the smell of freshly cut grass in late spring -stars (especially the constellation Orion, someday possibly the Southern Cross) -my cats purring -Cuban cigars -Guinness (or any fairly decent dark beer like Porter or Stout) -Makers' Mark -writing with a nice fountain pen on some fine quality paper -the feeling of creating -entering 'the Zone'  (artists of all kinds know about this one) -music (playing and listening) -my piano -weekend phone calls to a country far, far away with two incredibly special people -memories of the Camp -Bermuda -the aroma of an apple pie baked by my grandmother from summer's long ago -Blue Cheese -Bill Hicks, Denis Leary, Sam Kinnison, George Carlin, Lewis Black and Dave Chapelle -sunsets -reading -most importantly, my blog And yes, I will dearly miss sex and exceptional breasts. I'm not a freak. Truthfully, what will you miss?

I like the fact that the name 'Hannah' is a palindrome. And I love the fact that my wife and I chose to call our youngest daughter Hannah. I'm not sure why the palindrome catches my attention but it just does. Strange, huh? I stumbled upon a madass comedian named Demetri Martin. He loves palindromes. (check out his nasty little 224 word work below, it can be read the same way in either direction) I think he's probably nuts but I love this kind of stuff anyway. Hannah. God, I love her name.

Dammit I’m mad. Evil is a deed as I live. God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt. To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss. Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help? Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell. I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”. Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp, In my halo of a mired rum tin. I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin. Is evil in a clam? In a trap? No. It is open. On it I was stuck. Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web. Be still if I fill its ebb. Ew, a spider… eh? We sleep. Oh no! Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position. Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name. Both, one… my names are in it. Murder? I’m a fool. A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash, A Goddam level I lived at. On mail let it in. I’m it. Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet! A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name. Name not one bottle minus an ode by me: “Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog” Evil is a deed as I live. Dammit I’m mad.

I'm thinking this could be an entire class for MrsV . . . :mrgreen:

My heart went out to this little guy when I watched this video. It's more of a public service announcement than anything but if posting this saves one cat like Charley, it was worth the ten minutes of my time. Cerebellar hypoplasia is a disorder that affects both cats and dogs. In a nutshell, the cerebellum is not completely mature at birth. Watch the 2 minute video and pass a link onto anyone you know that loves their cats. Rock on, Charley.