I read an article in the Boston Globe yesterday about the cat above named Oscar.
Whenever I see the word “dementia” in any article it catches my eye but add “cat” to the mix and it’s all over.
Click on Oscar and read about this fascinating little guy.

~m

There’s a thought, huh?

~m

Saw this truck on Boylston street last week.
Crappy picture because all I had was my camera phone but you get the gist.
Only in this city would a truck decorated like this make any sense.
Because in Boston you “paahk your caah in Haavid yaad”

~m

With 210 calories and 8 grams of fat, the jelly-filled donut is a sin.
Well, these days I tend to think so.

~m

“Hey, Dave, what’s up with that healthy glow? What happened to your good old pasty, cadaver-like complexion?”

{Dave laughs}

“Oh, Bill. I had a nice and relaxing visit at the Clean as a Whistle Colonics Spa this weekend and man, I feel grrrrreat!”

In the not too distant future this could conceivably be a normal conversation at the office water cooler . . . or not.
I know, you’re wondering where the hell I’m going with this right?

Now and then I see an article in the paper that sends my “Pinch me, I must be dreaming” meter into orbit.
Yesterday, an article in the Metro on colonics sent me to Pluto.
Now I’m back to give you a report.

Colonics; the infusion of water into the rectum by a colon therapist to cleanse and flush out the colon

They better damn well use the Evian with me. {sniff, sniff}
In fact, make it a double.

It’s essentially an expensive enema for folks with nothing better to do with their money than, well, shove it up their bum.
I’m sure it has substantial health benefits and all that stuff but come on.
How far can something like this really go?
I get my prostate checked once a year and I still feel dirty 6 months later so from a psychological standpoint what in God’s name would one of these treatments do to me?
I’d have to sign up for rectal therapy.
Sheesh.

Anyway, it just struck me as an interesting service but how the hell could you promote it without laughing?

Maybe I’m ahead of the curve here but I’ve come up with a few choice names for establishments offering this procedure.
In a span of 20 minutes I came up with over twenty names (which was half the fun).
Here are a few names I really liked:

• Roto-Colon, Inc.
• Gee, my ass smells terrific
• Coffee, Tea or Champagne enema?
• Colon Blow Ranch {courtesy of SNL}
• The Lush Flush Salon
• G.I. Tract Joe’s
• Colon Bowlin’ Cleaning Service
• Tush Pushers Day Spa
• Backdoor Genie
• Tiny Bubbles
• Hose Monster {free tattoo with 3 irrigation sessions!}

Feel free to leave me a name or two.
Once you get started, the names just kinda flow . . . like water

~m

ps.
For those wondering why I’m posting less frequently, I spend most warm summer nights out on the deck with a cigar and my favorite brew taking me away from the computer.
I truly live for this time of the year.

Found a cool way to end the weekend.
Click on the scientist-type guy above and take a handwriting analysis test.
It’s short and sweet and won’t take much time.
Be sure to wait for your results.
If they’re anything like mine you’ll laugh your little keester off.

~m

{57}

This one is just too weird.
Click the “Stairway to Heaven” pictured above and give a listen to a segment of the tune
played backwards.
I realize it’s all about interpretation but I still think it’s pretty frickin’ creepy.
Check it out.
Have a serene weekend folks.

~m

“If toast always lands butter-side down, and cats always land on their feet, what happens if you strap toast on the back of the cat and drop it?”

~(from the deep and somewhat whacked out mind of)
Steven Wright

I got an email from my dear friend Laho the other night.
In the subject box it read: The Clock is Ticking!

Hmmm . . .

I opened the email to find a link to a site called The Death Clock, a cyberspacial destination for anyone wondering when they’ll be “re-formatted by God”.
I put in my information and was told that March 17, 2025 will be the day I get promoted to subterranean truffle inspector.

Those loveable folks at The Death Clock do offer some hope in the form of a ‘delay your death’ link, a possible out for anyone slated to buy a pine condo too prematurely than they originally anticipated.

I told a friend of mine about the site and he went immediately and began entering his information.

Imagine my surprise when he told me he died 16 years ago.
Ah, the internet still has its imperfections, doesn’t it?
Thank God.

I did begin reminiscing about my own reservation at the Chateau Eternity and how I never seriously think about that final day of de-animation.
It’s a morose thought at best but I will say there’s something oddly fascinating about spinning the dials at DC.
It’s bullshit anyway and if you take it seriously you’re crazier than me.
But it’s interesting.

March 17, 2025.
Saint Patrick’s Day, no less.

All I can say is I better not be in the middle of a Guinness.
That would be a tragic waste of 2 perfectly good Weight Watcher points.

~m

I’ve heard some lame lyrics over the years and yep, here’s a site that actually lists the 20 worst of them.
Tickle the funny bone and click on Sade, the smooth operator up above.
Got a favorite rotten lyric?
Not that it matters, #13 & #4 kinda get me ‘achucklin . . .

~m