The Mail Bag Of The Future

Yes, friends —

– experience the
mail bag of
tomorrow, today —

or the mail bag
of next week ,
this week,
if you’d rather —

Any abstruse
overstatement that
you’d choose to use to
exaggerate the mundane
truth is just fine with me..

Cause, really —

It’s just another
Muscleheaded
MailBag Post.

Hey-
I did have you
going for a
second, right?

That’s why they call me
Mister Excitement, man.

Ok-

so, they don’t really
call me anything
like that but,
I’ve been noticing how
they sell cars on TV
these days —

they all look
the exact damn
same to me,
but somehow
the ballyhoo and
advertising rhetoric
makes it sound like
certain models were
designed to be so
very, very, very, very
distinctive and different.

Very.

Very Very.

Blech.

Like the over-paid
actor in the commercial
who tells his
over-priced SUV
‘ good job ‘
after it’s computer
screen entertains
him during a
long ferry ride.

Yes, well.

Anyhoo –

I figured maybe
that I’d spruce
up our MailBag post
with all sorts of similar
hype nonsense in
the hopes that hardly
anyone would notice
that it’s pretty much
just another batch of
interesting vintage
postcards without
that much of a
rhyme or reason
tying them together.

Which of course,
is staying true
to the original,
impenetrable,
profoundly vapid
reasoning that
has made the
Muscleheaded
Blog – for over 10
years –
so wonderfully
unreadable for
anyone but those
super special,
happy few who
somehow understand
just what the
fuck this thing
is all about.

Thank heaven for em.

I wish somebody’d
explain it to me
sometime.

Cause I’m totally
flummuzzled and
carnfoosed.

Still,
we carry on.

Happy Friday Y’all.

.

!! HOY !!

 

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The Friday Mail Bag

Friends are always
sending me very
interesting stuff
that makes me laugh –

– and then
I have to
start wondering –

– just how I’m gonna
squeeze it into a post
somehow.

That can get
pretty tricky
at times.

But no worries,
cause the
‘your author has
simply had an attack

of writers’ block,
and that means pictures ‘
excuse is certainly alive
and well around here.

Hmmmmm…..

When you think
about it, it’s more
like a ‘mind-cramp’
than a writer’s ‘block’…

And
“Hydrate, hydrate,
hydrate” is the rule
for cramps, ya know.

So…
let’s see —

This new bottle of
Wild Turkey looks
like it could be
quite refreshing.

Ahem.

I’m not really sure
that would loosen
up the mind ‘cramps’
or not.

Or maybe you guys
need the stuff more
than I do to read the
babble that’s been
gurgling out so far
for this edition of
the Friday Mail Bag.

But the submissions
that we’ve gotten
are all pretty cool….
( more, please )

so, we’ll try a little
less conversation
and a little more action.

Seems I’ve heard
that phrase
somewhere before.

Probably from my
first girl friends.

Ok-
well,
here goes.

Without any
further ado.

The

Friday

Mail

Bag.

.

!!! HOY !!!

.

Crackerjack Slang

Well,
I’ll have to admit,
we use a lot of slang
around here
at the
Muscleheaded Blog……..

I like to say
that a bit
of the blarney blarg
helps make my posts
almost completely
incomprehensible,
which is good ’cause
no one can take exception
to what I’m saying if they
don’t even understand
what the hell I’m even
talking about.

And if maybe a coherent
thought should slip
through every now
and then,
well…

what’s a salsa without
a little lime, chili and
cilantro?

(mushy tomatoes and
onions, mostly)

Errr.. my point ,
belabored as
it may be,
is:
{ if N=slang then
W+O+R+D+S (+N) }
makes up more than
the sum of it’s letters –

it’s a kinda code that really
doesn’t make any sense to
anyone except the people
who are in on the thing.

(and heaven only knows
who ‘they’ are)

Until it gets
out of the bag,
as it were,
and then,
it becomes part
of ‘popular parlance’.

Think about it.

At one time, only a small
group of people knew that
there was another meaning
to the word ‘beaver’ other
than just a cousin to the
honey badger.

But it spread.Related image

Umm…
I mean, the popularity of
the expression spread.

And now,
well…
you can jump
to your own conclusions.

Today, we’re attempting
to revive what were,
at one time,
very popular expressions…

(good luck
with that, right …. )

For instance,
you might remember
that the Victorians were
very touchy about
certain words,
and used substitutes
and insider slang to
replace the names
of stuff that they
didn’t like to talk about.

Testicles,
for instance.

Very touchy.

They called ’em
whirlygigs’.

Much better, huh?

But you had to
be quite a
‘whipster‘ to know
what they meant
when they said it.

And that’s what
this whole
whipt syllabus’
is all about.

Sorry to be such
a ‘whisk‘ about it…..

– but a guy’s gotta just
gaze at the melody‘,
ya know.

!!! HOY !!!

.

 

 

Doin’ The Donut

1948As you’ve probably have learned
from reading the Muscleheaded Blog —

There’s a lot about
the previous generations
that they never told us about.

We grew up thinking
that they didn’t have all that many vices to speak of —

….. at least,
I did.

Anddoll
boy howdy,
were we misled.

I guess maybe it was
just a whole lot easier
to keep their
whims,
peccadilloes,
and fancies secret
than it is for us today.

doughnutgames

But,
we can always
get a glimpse
of just how weirddonutgames
they were back then,
from their printed matter–

— like advertising,
and
of course,
postcards
and brochures.

This interesting submission
came to ushole
all the way
from California.

If emails needed stamps,
that woulda got
kinda expensive.

And somehow,
I shouldn’t be all
that surprised
that it came from
there, either.um

Yes,
my friends…..

The next time your party
starts to go flatter than one
of Suzie Wonder’s
gluten-free pancakes–

You can become the
life of the gang bang,
with this handy guide.

It’s called:
The Most Popular
Donut Games
” —
and features 9 or 10
exciting and festive excuses
— to buy a bunch of donuts.bend

( Sure, you could just eat ’em,
but what fun would there be in that? )

It contains some very
strange suggested diversions –

Like this illustration
on how to eat donuts
‘doggie style’.

I dunno if a poodle skirtdonutqueen
is optional or not.

But I like the hands-tied-
behind-the-back idea,
anyway.

Nothing says “PARTY” to me
like bondage.

Also included,
are a complete set of rules
for amusing yourself and your party guests with :

The Donut Snatch Dance.

Yes, sure,
the namea1
suggests an interesting
party concept for sure…

But in this case,
it’s simply about
making chicks
carry a donut around
on a red ribbon
while the guys at the
party try to take a bite out of it.

If they get a piece…,
of her donut,
that is… ,
they get a dance.

I’m so disappointed.

Still, it has potential.

You could substitute for1951
the donut, I guess…

And the prize could have
been upgraded on demand,
for all I know.

While I’m no fan of donuts,

(well, ok,
a nice French Cruller
every once in a while
goes nice with a double espresso)

—— any excuse
for friskiness at a boring party,
no matter how mundane,
is OK with me.donutime

Hey, man —
It’s always Do-Nut time.

Umm…
……. yeah.

 

 

And since
I’m obviously still writing
the same tawdry kitsch
I’ve been doing for 15 years now,

—– these submissions are
right up my alley.

Of course,
one of these days,
I might even start dunk
getting good at it,
too… dammit.

Hey–
it could happen.

And I do love donuts.

Oh,
and by the way,1957
friends, remember–

The next time
you place your order ,
Don’t forget to say :

NO ANCHOVIES, PLEASE.

Ahem.

Hey Mister Moose–
Myrna says:
Have A Donut !!!!!

HOY!

myrnasayshaveadonut

Automatic, My Ass

Today we’re gonna explore
the wild, weird, conditionally
wonderful world of
automated office
rest room furnishings…

Oh sure, it doesn’t
sound all that exciting….

but it was
either that or a post about
the ” most deeply
philosophical quotes
from Mr. Bean ” –

– and nobody wants
that, man.

If you got any better ideas,
well, that’s why I got
an email, ya know.

Ahem.

I don’t know who designed
some of this stuff, but
thinking out of the box
was merely their starting
point apparently……..

At work, we’re surrounded
by such over-technologized
gadgets, especially in the
bathrooms.

Like:
The damn hand towel dispenser that never
wants to give you any
paper unless you give
it a firm punch right
above the ‘ sensor ‘ ?

Or:
the automatic soap dispenser
that dabs out a fingernail size
amount of cleanser just sufficient enough to
clean your thumb and
half of one palm ?

Or:
the automatic sink that
gives you almost enough
the amount of cold
water for the amount of soap
you just received from it’s
mechanical cousin.

Or:
The ‘water limiting’ urinal
that shoots water all over
the peeing party …
( I guess in retribution?)

And who really needs an
auto-flushing toilet that
flushes itself every
minute or so while
you’re sitting on it ?

What the fuck purpose
does all this stuff serve
except to make your work
day more aggravating ?

That’s not my idea
of saving water–
and it gets down
right irritating.

It’s not like we’re
out in space and gotta
have a lot of technical
controls to keep us
from drowning in
our own ….

well, you know.

Now, to be fair,
I have used those high
fallootin’ Japanese toilets
that everybody talks about
in hotels over there,
and they’re actually pretty
nice once you figure out
what everything does….

— maybe that’s the fun part
for many folks, I dunno ..

but you really go get to
missing that nice, warm
stream of water once you
don’t have it anymore.

Squeezin the charmin
just don’t make it in
comparison.

It’s not like you can’t
get one here —
— if you’ve got
$5000 bucks
to splurge on it
(after installation).

If I ever spent that on a toilet,
I’d be so bound up, I’d never
be able to use the thing,
at least in the spirit in
which it was intended.

So it’d end up just being
a very expensive seat for
checking my phone messages
and reading comic books.

And of course, the low tech
alternative –
— the garden hose —
seems temptingly manageable
when viewed in that limited
perspective.

Hey, the hose end
is adjustable.

Bad idea?

Sure…
I’m full of em.

And other stuff, too.

Maybe I should start
inventing stuff for the
office.

!! HOY !!

Talking Outta Your Hat

The Friday Mail Bag
post is on the air !

! YAY !

Ok,
so I know it’s
kinda a
hammy-retroish
expression to
open up a post with,

— I admit that openly,
and in all free will
and accord.

But,
dammit,
it’s getting harder
and harder to even
try to be original
with these intros
for the mailbag posts
when all I’m really
doing is bringing on
the next act, as it were.

Maybe ……
I should just
try a riff with a
snare drum and a
cymbal next time….

Like in ole burlesque.

It’d be one thing
if I was introducing
that girl who could
do all those amazing
things with two tassels,
a large flowery hat,
and a plastic snake …

Or those double
jointed twins with
the penchant for riding
backwards on the
handlebars of unicycles.

I know….

I’m just talking
through my hat.

Which kinda gives
me an idea for a
theme of sorts……

Let’s dig down deep
in the mailbag and
see what I can find
to make my headwear
hypothesis ambitions
match the physical
reality of the situation.

Like that’s
never a
problem with
other stuff.

Heh.

If I had a nickle, boy.

!!! HOY !!!

.

Little Packets of Love

loveYes, my friend —

Love sure can get weird.

You can have all the
best intentions in the world —

— not to buy into the whole ‘love/ownership’ thing,

and more especially ,

the intention ‘to stay a bachelor’.

Sure, ok —2

So you found this one ‘special’ girl
that can do all the stuff you like,
and pizza flavored, too.

But that doesn’t mean
you should throw out
the anchor and
settle down, right?

All your friends remind you
that there’s plenty o fish in the sea,

….. and all that.

And I mean,

think of your hard
earned reputation.a1

( Wait,
maybe we shouldn’t talk about that… )

Yes,

I agree clean sheets are a nice luxury,
(and for some reason, a marital requisite),

…..but think about all those
sly, come hither looks
you’re gonna have to ignore at the gym
( or at least, have to stop giving ).

And,1

Yes,
a woman’s touch can be just
what your apartment needs,
in place of that
‘Wreck of the Hesperus’
decorating theme
you’ve been using since 1994–

……but doesn’t that also mean
you’re gonna have to give up
hosting your weekly strip
poker tournaments?

Oh well,
it hasn’t been all that
much fun anyway,a2
— since all the girls
stopped showing up,
I guess, but still…..

And,

Absolutely,
the whole soul mate/intimacy/two people into one thing
sounds just lovely,

…..but that would also mean
you’d have to clean out your refrigerator,

and throwing out those exotic
‘spices’ you’ve got in there.

And,
Hey–
Don’t you ever check
expiration dates ???? a1

About those dirty magazines/videos
that take up two closets and half of your living room…..

I’m thinking those will have to go, too, man.

Oh yes,
I hear you-

— you’d be gaining a beautiful, sexy wife,

….. and, of course,

she might let you drive her
vintage midnight blue
special edition
1979 De Tomaso Pantera–1979pantera

—- the one she got from
her rich daddy for her
high school graduation,

and has had
(and maintained herself)
since she was 17,

That’s gotta count for somethin’.

(vroooom, vrooooooooom )a3

……but somehow I don’t
think she’s gonna look too kindly
on you spending ten hours a day posting to your dirty Tumblr
account,

and video chatting with girls
who only recently learned
how/why to wear a garter belt.

And let’s forget the date you
have with the Kelly Triplets–

Susie, Sandy,
and the one with
that strawberry birthmark
just north of her iliopsoas,

….. and that room deposit
in Montego Bay for September.a2

Do you really want to
disappoint those girls (again) ?

Man, I don’t know .

And frankly,
I’m not even gonna mention
that big ole allegorical
elephant in the room
that is the biggest conundrum
of all —

Ok–
I will mention it.

Just what in the hell does
that wonderful, beautiful
woman see in you ???

That, my friend,
— is what you call a mystery
wrapped in an enigma.

Yeah.

I’m assuming some
type of visual acuity issue.

But I can tell you milkshae
that this whole
marriage proposal thing
is fraught with dangers.

If you insist on
doing it,
you’d better do it right.

And not like these guys.

a11Submitted for
your approval,
case number one:

A guy took his girlfriend
to a hockey game in Detroit,
and had pre-arranged to
have his beau led to center ice
at intermission
on the pretext that
she won a door prize.

On the way,
she slid on the ice,
and couldn’t get back on her feet.

While the ambulance was en-route,
Mister Sensitivity who planned
the whole thing decided to forge
ahead with his plan, and presented
an engagement ring to his prone,
partially paralyzed, and
pretty pissed off paramour —a1a

—- saying something about
‘this’ll make you feel better’.

So, although it turned out
that she hadn’t actually
won a prize,
(far from it),
she had torn the ulnar collateral ligament in her right elbow,
and she ruptured a couple
of discs in her back–
—– the story still did end
up having a happy ending.

Because she told him to go fuck himself
in front of thousands of amused hockey fans.

But, since it was a hockey game,
I guess she mighta said ‘puck‘,
I dunno.

.uhyeah

.

.

Case Number Two:

It don’t take a rocket scientist to know what probably happened
to this guy in Long Beach, California,
when you find how he proposed.

He took his hottietaco
to a local Taco Bell,
sprung for a couple
of tacos ( 99 cents each
for a limited time ),
and handed her a hot sauce
packet with the words:
” Will You Marry Me ?” on it.

Oh brother.

He shoulda just got that
ugly little Chihuahua to
do the dirty work.

a1Hey baby,
the dog says: “Yo quiero“.

Some interesting things
about this whole episode, though.

Apparently, Taco Bell
really does print messages
like this on their taco sauce packets,
along with other ones like:

“Single Hot Sauce seeking friendship, maybe more”,

“Of all those sauce packets, why me, why now?”,

and

“It’s okay… you can say it.
I love you too.”

All of which would,
on their own, I guess,
also probably make somewhat
reasonable substitutes
for actually manning up
and spitting out a few
profound, feeling-based words
to your special somebody.

Another is that the
‘marriage proposal using btaco sauce packets’ scenario
actually happens a lot.

Look on Facebook or YouTube if ya don’t believe me.

Sure, it’s better than
putting a woman in a situation
where she’s faced with the
unenviable choice of
agreeing to marry a doofus
who’s so afraid of rejection
he needs a crowd’s moral support ,

—-or embarrassing herself
and him in front of
thousands of drunken fans.

But, both tactics seem lacking
in the degree of testicular fortitude
that making a marriage work is gonna require.

However,

I am thinking that the whole idea
of using hot sauce packages
would come in handy
for some other situations….

a

Aye Carumba —

Moy Caliente !!!!!!

.

HOY!

eat