I Should Worry


Let’s wind
the magic
time machine
up and set the
dials for 1913 —

It was right before
World War I —
and folks had an
awful lot on their minds.

Not the least of which,
the current spate of
catch-words like:
” 23-Skidoo “,
“For The Love Of Mike “,
” Oh You Kid “.

Most of these were
first heard by folks
in popular songs
of the day —
and it’s true for
the subject of today’s post:
” I Should Worry ? ”

Although, I must say,
no catch-phrase of the
time captures the spirit
of those years quite
like this one.

” I Should Worry ”
was a sardonic way of
expressing one’s
disinterest in something
most other people else
were concerned about —
” I Couldn’t Care Less “.

It’s derivation,
interestingly enough,
is from a German-Yiddish
phrase “Nisht Gefidlt “

and it was the title of a
popular 1913 song
(I Should Worry) ” —

— it quickly became a part
of the period’s parlance.

The lyrics were
pretty silly, really:

“I never care or worry
Isch Gabibble, Isch Gabibble
I never tear or hurry
Isch Gabibble, Isch Gabibble
When I owe people money
Isch Gabibble, Isch Gabibble,”
……. and so on.

Music history buffs
might also remember
a comedian/coronet
player in the Kay Kyser Band
during the 1930’s
by the name of ‘Ish Kabibble’
— but that was long
after the idiom itself
had originally entered
the mainstream.

World War I held down
the popularity of the
German sounding side
of the expression,
but ” I Should Worry “,
a loose translation of it,
continued to be used
widely into the 1930’s.

Don’t get me wrong–
there were many social elitists
who absolutely hated it —

but, it was defended vigorously
by those who thought it
set just the right tone .

Actress Billie Burke
(Glinda, the Good Witch
in the ” Wizard Of Oz “)
is quoted as saying:

” I think the man who
invented the slang phrase,
I should worry‘ almost
deserves a Nobel prize.
The mere fact that almost
everybody in the
United States is saying
this little derisive sentence
over and over to themselves
daily is a sure sign that
a great many of them
will begin to understand
that worry is the most
foolish of all the unnecessary
things with which
women torture themselves. ”

— And —

Professor L. K. Hirshberg
of Johns Hopkins University
agreed with her completely;

He prescribed repeating
“I should worry”
fifty (50) times
daily, loudly and with
(increasing the dose
as needed),
as a cure for chronic worry.

I like the idea.

Today’s world
is even more
full of things
that will
drive you crazy
with worry if you let it.

So —
go ahead and
ask yourself :

” I Should Worry ?

!!!!!!! HOY !!!!!!!


A Space Case

I guess like a lot
of boys of
my generation,
I was space-nuts
when I was a kid.

I mean, anything that
had to do with
space exploration
or science fiction –
– man, I was into it.

And ,
once a year,
when my birthday
rolled around,
I always got to pick one present –
– not too expensive, mind you –
– from the local department store…..

Which meant ,
quite obviously,
some kinda space gadget
of one kind or another.

You might remember
my post about my
7th birthday present
a space-age toy ray gun –

– well, every year
( until I discovered girls ) 
I chose something like that….

My eighth was a ginchey
space helmet with ear plug
and a wire antenna that
worked on the tin can
and string principle.

High tech, right ?

Hey, it came
with a bonus –
– what else,
but another ray gun ?

By the time I was nine,
I had every space gizmo
that could be rendered
into a cheap plastic toy
I could get my greedy,
grubby little hands on –

– a lot of my friends had
lost interest in theirs,
and I seized my chance
to build a virtual empire
of used, unwanted
galactic space junk.

Unfortunately, that’s
about the time my
hormones really kicked in –

– so, my universal take-over
would, quickly enough,
be put on indefinite hold,
but it all got stashed
away safely in the garage,
for the day when my space
empire-building days would
return with a vengeance.

of course,
came the
incident –

— where-in,
somehow or other,
all of my astral treasures
were confused with trash
and jettisoned into the
of the local dump.

Nobody really
has a good
explanation on how all
that happened —


My Mother claims that
she was busy cleaning
the upstairs bathroom
when it happened ….

— and my Father
asserted until the
day he died that
the rental truck that
he was seen driving
was in no way
related to the

a likely story, man.

!!!! HOY !!!!!

Seen Through The Keyhole

If you saw yesterday’s
post, you probably
noticed the opening
picture, a ‘keyhole’
pin-up by Peter Driben.

here’s another
one of his to remind
you of what
it looked like.

I’m not really a huge
Peter Driben fan,
but the keyhole pin-ups are
deliciously era-specific
as far as ‘naughty’
concepts are concerned.

Completely innocuous
and still oh-so-gently-erotic.

Innocence is over-rated,
but don’t ever confuse the two.

She might not bite,
but then, you never know.

It kinda reminds me
of the time I asked the
meat guy at the supermarket
about the nickname he had
engraved on his butcher’s coat-
” Lucky ” —

he held up his hands
and said —
Still got ten fingers.”

why it reminds me
of that eludes me right now…..


Don’t you think
it’s interesting
how the risque-value of
certain idioms change
with technology ?

for instance.

Peeking through
key-holes has never
been a favorite
activity of mine,
— my aching back)
but it was a favorite
way of making
lewd insinuations
and funny-but-
suggestive captions
for postcards back in
the days of large keys .

(which explains the
large key-holes I guess.)

I dunno…..
It seems kinda
but who am I to argue
with a past generation’s
idea of ribald. 

And ,
oh sure-

If that keyhole was in
Valerie Bertinelli’s shower,
I’m not sure I wouldn’t
endeavor a little peakie myself.

a man can only
stand so much
temptation, ya know.

!!!! HOY !!!!



More Chat-astrophies

Yes, just
when you
thought it
was safe
to start
texting again–

here on the
Muscleheaded Blog,
it’s time once again
for more “Chat-ast-rophies” .

It could happen
to anybody,
I guess….

You’re minding
your own business,
simply sending
a totally innocent
text message
to somebody,
and somehow 1a
things go all to hell
in a handbasket,
and toute suite.

Hooo boy,
and how.

Sometimes it’s
the damnable
auto-correct —

(which I’ve tried
to suppress
but it seems to have
a mind of it’s own) —a1

Sometimes it’s due
to a mental goof ,

or typing too quickly…

oh hell,

… maybe it’s not
thinking too quickly.

And sometimesa3
one of the parties
in the conversation
is just not all
that bright.

Here’s hoping
it ain’t you or I.

(It couldn’t be, could it?)

But, there’s plenty
of evidence out there
in internet landa4
that somebody
out there,
indeed, is an idiot.

I posted some
like these last year
and we had
plenty of fun
with them….

So, consideringa5
how parched
my creative juices
have left me
tonight, maybe
now’s the time
to let some more
of them out
of the proverbial bag.

Mailbag, that is.

a7Of course,
it’s easy enough
to laugh at the people
who originally
sent these things….

And I’m having a
pretty good time
doing just that.

one must always
remember the
old adage
” There, but
by the grace
of God, go I “

Because we all
use this technology
in some way today,
and we can
all get burned
by it just as easily.

There’s a very thin linea9
between thinking
like a sentient,
intelligent being,

— and texting
like a senseless,
ignorant dolt.

One little screw up

We’re going to Disney
We’re going to Divorce” .

I’ll fix it up for you
I’ll fuck it up for you


over potatoes

Butt hurt
over your taters


Ok —

so, maybe
that last one
is a bit on the
unlikely side,

but still….

— Watch Out.




Look Deep Inside

I guess the
old saying
that fore-warned
is fore-armed
(if that’s what it was?)
is somewhat applicable
on this post….

Today’s post
to break all
our previous records
for mediocrity,
and reality-based-
questionable humor.

Why some folks keep
ickreading this blog
if they got so many
complaints about it,
well, I got no idea.

I mean,
I complain about it, too,

But I have to read it –
– cause I write it.

Oh well. 1

Let me start ya off with a quiz —

Don’t worry —
…the score won’t
go on your
permanent record.

What does this
look like to you?

At first glance,
you probably noticed
that this is an X-Ray
of somebody’s lower abdomen.

“what is that obstruction?”
….. you might be asking.

I’ll give you a hint.

His first name is Buzz.

Now, just in case
you think I’m besmirching
the good name of that guy
who was the
second man on the moon….buzzl

(Talk about going
where no man
has gone before…. )


………….. it’s this guy.

Buzz Lightyear.

Actually a toy —

Or should I say, an action figure.

And how.

No wonder he’s wearing a helmet.

Yes, my friends,

while the story of just how Buzz Lightyear ended up making that long, treacherous journey up into some individual’s bowels is lost to the morass of medical memory– shoved

(….. and the whole patient confidentiality thing…. )

…….. you can still revel in the marvels of at least 100 different things,
that have been somehow been shoved and stuck up into somebody in this book:

“Stuck Up! 100 Objects Inserted And Ingested In Places They Shouldn’t Be”

by a couple medical doctors,
Rich Dreben, Murdoc Knight, and Marty Sindhian.

In the aforementioned book,
you will be regaled by tails of ….


a1aTales of:
light bulbs,
perfume bottles,
soda cans,
coat hangers,
Barbie dolls,
jars of peanut butter
( crunchy style, of course ) ,
and other assorted every day ephemera
which ended up getting stuck ,
…… well, up there.

Pictures, too —
plenty of em.c

Here’s one featuring
a candy cane.

BAD Santa.

( I did warn that kid to stop complaining about the crap
he got on Christmas. )

The list of vegetable matter
in particular is impressive…



……… at least it’s nice to
know some folks are still
concerned about their nutrition.

And precautions, too —
….. the plantain had a
condom on it.aouch

Don’t want a lotta little plantains running around…

Or catch one of them plantain diseases we’ve been hearing so much about.

( I think I’m getting
carn-fuzed, here. )

There were also some interesting sharp objects on the list…

Like Ice Picks,
A Jewelers Saw,
….. ya know, stuff like that.

Oh, and a bottle of
Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup.cassettetape

Mmmmm….. mapley.

So, anyhoo…

Y’all run right out
and buy that book.

I don’t want anybody thinking
I’m the only bastion of bad taste,
ya know.


— so, that’s where my old
“Peter Frampton Live” cassette went !!!!