Dorothy Parker says:

Dorothy Parker

“If you wear a
short enough skirt,
the party will come
to you.”

Advertisements

Mailbag Mainstays

a1Yes,
sure
it’s that
time again,
man.

‘Cause my
mailbag’s full —

— and it’d be
an awful shame
to waste all
these goodies.

My wonderful
friends and
regular readers
send meatsea
all sorts of
very cool stuff….

and some of it’s
just weird enough
(or in some way
matches up to
the mysteriously
arcane guidelines)
to get on one
of these here
mailbag posts.

The rest gets
used on variousbank
other posts
or stored in the
world famous
Muscleheaded
Magic Vault —

(located at a
secret location
known only to me,
(I have about 10
feet of space)

Suzie Wonder,
(who keeps about
10,000 square feet
for herself and
her – quote –
‘Medical Supplies’)

and a
few thousand
Morlocks who’ll
work for a couple
of packages of
peat moss)

— for just the
right time,firm
and/or place.

If I could
only remember
the combination to
the damn thing.

(and how to
get there)

All I gotta do, then,
is mop up the place
every once in a while….kid

which I haven’t
done anything
about in some time,
come to think of it….

….. so,
I’m kinda
afraid to
look in there
right now.

But no
worries–

— there’s
plenty of goodies
right here
on the local
designated
hard drive
without opening
that particular
can of worms
right at this
moment.

I’ll just bet
I’m gonnasandy
need
rubber gloves,
anyway.

Anybody seen
my bourbon ????

Makers Mark, if
Wild Turkey ain’t
available, thanks —

and, err–
two ice cubes.

Ahem.

.

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

openwide

Foto Flummoxed

My kids were
laughing at me
the other day,

–cause I had
my old photo
albums spread
out on the
floor.

No,
we’re not gonna
tab you off on a
link to that soupy
70’s song
“Feelings”–

I’ll leave that
to any
“Gong Show” clips
you may have still
lingering in the back
of your consciousness…

… assuming that
you’re even old
enough to
remember either of
those things.

(ok- just one,
here’s Gene The
Dancing Machine
just in case)

But I guess that
photo albums can
seem a funny thing…..

Especially when
viewed in the
perspective of
today’s technology.

I mean, when my
generation would
take pictures, we
would carefully set
up the shot , using
a 35 mm or snapshot
camera loaded with
light sensitive film
that had to be developed,
then order double copies
at the Fotomat, so we
wouldn’t lose em.

Then, putting them in a
photo album with a
small caption so we’d
be able to remember
who/what/where/when
when we got too old
to recall otherwise.

And that woulda
worked pretty well,
too.

If I could read my
damned writing –

– or if the picture
hasn’t faded because
of crappy processing.

Hey, don’t even
get me started
on Polaroids,
either, man.

It’s also funny how,
as important some of
those events pictured
must have been at the
time, how completely
blurry and faded they
seem now.

Just like those
old Polaroids,
dammit.

My kids were
particularly amused
about a pic of me
doing that ‘best man’
thing with a garter at
a wedding –
sliding it further and
further up the lady’s
(bride’s?) leg.

Actually, the real hilarity
came in when I was
asked whose wedding
it was.

I had no idea, and the
caption didn’t help –
– it said “Me, and
Ginger, 1978″.

I have to assume that
the cute redhead with the
‘Toni Tennille’ haircut
whose stocking I was
about to nibble on
was named Ginger ,
although I have no
recollection of her,
or the wedding that
was apparently going
on behind us.

I’ve been ‘best man’
at weddings a coupla
times, but this one,
I just flat out don’t
remember.

Who took the picture?
Nix… no idea.

It’s been in that book
for four decades,
as near as I can
figure…..

— and that’s as far as
I can get.

And I don’t happily
play the Confused Dad
for laughs – ever.

Damn.

To solve the mystery,
I was tempted to dig
through my old video
tapes, which would
also mean breaking
out the old 1/2 inch
video tape player
(which is probably
coughing up blood
by now, if it’s working
at all….. )

But, the truth is,
the attic is full of ’em,
and I was worse at
labeling those damn
tapes, then I was my
pictures, so…….

Oh well.

I hope Ginger and I
had a good time,
anyway.

!!! HOY  !!!

.

.\

Its How You Play Your Cards

I bet
you’d never
know it,
(yeah, right)
but typically,
this blog gets
written about 3
in the morning,
and there’s
definitely a reason
most suicides
happen at that
time of day,
too —

— it’s got
something
to do with just how
lonesome and cut off
a person naturally gets
to feeling around then.

But it can also be
a tremendous
opportunity to catch
up on your work –

– as long as you can
remember the quiet
just ain’t going to last –

– and any minute now,
the world will arise
to a new day..

and, of course, a
brand new
Muscleheaded
Blog post, inane
as ever.

My poet friend Jules
has given me an
excellent post idea –

and considering
that when I sat
down at my desk
late last night
I didn’t have
a cotton pickin’
idea in my
head about what
to write for the
main daily post …..

— actually, her
concept would
have made a perfect
write as it was, if we
played it straight
around here, which,
by sheer stubborn
bull-head-ishness,
we try very hard
not to ever do.

Still, since the idea
was such a good one,
it might even survive
despite our efforts to
mangle it all up.

(Frankly,
I doubt it)

It’ll be up to the
reader, however,
to decipher just
where the lovely
Jules’ idea ends,
and our insane
raving begins.

Our subject today :
strip pinochle.

I’m told that the
game is actually
derived from one
that doesn’t involve
any removal of
clothes at all ,
( although picking
up ‘tricks’ is
somehow a part
of it )
called “bezique”.

Imagine that.

That, in turn,
is descended
from another
(also, non-stripping)
game, that contains
not only
tricking“, but also
scoring with parties“-
a very old French game,
called “piquet”.

I shoulda known ….
the French love stuff
like that.

And that’s why
I love the Fren…..

…. wait….

Ok, I guess
I jumped the
gun on that
whole tricking
thing–

Let’s just say
it’s not exactly
what I figured.

I’m looking at the
rules of these games,
only now…..

–and not only do
games like coinche,
pinochle, bezique,
belote, and piquet
have complex rules
that require more
brain power to
figure out and
explain than I
could possibly
muster up
on my best day,

…… never mind at
3 am —

…. but I have to say,
there’s also a very
disappointing lack
of stripping,
real tricking,
or anything at
all that
suggests a
wild weekend
of exchanging copious
amounts of alcoholic
and bodily fluids.

I’m not hatin on it
or like that …..

It just seems like
an awful lotta math
adding up to zero
hedonistic hoopla
to me.

Hey —

What is this
crazy world
coming to,
anyway ?

.

.

!! HOY !!

It’s Mail Call

a1It’s Mail Call !!!

During my time
in Navy boot camp,
all those years ago,

(yow-
time flies, huh?)

I can still remember
how much
we could always
look mailcallforward
to Mail Call —

It was then
that you got
all the goodies
from home
(if you had any)

that your loved
ones sent ya
(if you had any) —

and catch up on
your romantic
entanglementsa6
(if you had any) —

and otherwise,
share the wealth
with your buddies
(if you had any).

Of course,
that’s when the
bad news and
‘Dear John’ letters
came, too.

It’s much easier
to tell somebody
you’re taking up
with his best friend by mail —
especially when you know
he can’t just come
home right away.

So, it does happen –
– a lot.

Still, a boxload of
Grandma’s cookiespopular
would make it all
better, man.

Even if it was
somebody else’s
Grandma who made ’em.

Hey-
sharing is caring.

And now,
with the able assistance
of the Müscleheaded Blog —
avy
you, too, can experience
all the magic and mystery
of military mail call,

without all the inconvenience of:

having some big,
ugly Master Chief
screaming at you
to get your lazy ass
out of the rack for
reveille every morning —forgotten

without all the
rigmarole of:

folding and refolding
shirts, pants and underwear
over and over
and over and over  —

without all the silliness of:

making a bunk with
‘hospital corners’
so tight you could
bounce a quarter of it….a9

and without the pain of:

stowing your gear
in a lock box so small
you couldn’t keep
4 rubbers and a
full sized pin up
of Brigitte Bardot in it….

(not that you’d
need those rubbers,
anyway )

Ahem.

To give you a feeling
of what that
experience was like,
well….
it always started with
a bunch of guys
milling arounda4
trying to look like
they were busy —

Cause if you didn’t look busy,
the Navy could always find
something for you to do.

— you know,
like shining boots
that already reflected
your D.I’s face
better than a new
chrome bumper,a8

or walking around
with a clip-board
and occasionally making
a random check mark
or drawing a doodle —

Or, if the ‘smoking
lamp’ was lit —
well,
you were busy keeping
RJ Reynolds in business,
with a smoke in one hand,a1
and some Navy coffee
in the other.

You can always tell
if it’s Navy coffee —
cause it’ll eat through the bottom of a Styrofoam cup.

It’s not bitter exactly.
‘Harsh’ is more the word…..

Sorta like ‘Roseanne Barr
singing the National
Anthem’ in a mug.a99

Try facing THAT
first thing
in the morning, man.

So, anyway —

A guy would come in
with a huge mail bag
looking a bit like Santa,
(sans reindeer)
and start mispronouncing
last names.a5

I get how
somebody could
mangle MY name —
it’s Polish and has more consonants
than Roseanne Barr
has bad jokes.

But just how hard
do you have to work at it
to get ‘Jones’
or even ‘Smith’ wrong ?????a7

John Q. Bluejacket —
that one,
they’d get right, I bet.

There’d just be too
many of us, though.

He’d start handing out
envelopes and packages —
and if you were very lucky,a3
eventually he’d hand you
one or two.

Now, I know it
doesn’t sound all
that exciting,
but when you’ve been essentially
cut off from contact
with the outside world
for 9 weeks,
it was a big thing, baby.

Christmas, New Years,
and Halloween all in one.a2

Best thing ever, it seemed.

Especially since there
wasn’t such thing
anything remotely
like a conjugal mail call.

At least not that I
heard about, anyway.

HOY !!!!

a1

>

 

The Friday Mail Bag

Not that we make
any real cohesive
sense any other
time, but our
Friday Mail Bag
posts are a chance
to really let our
theme-blog pants
down a bit more……..

Now,
please don’t take
that last sentence
seriously.

Nobody’s trying to
scare away our
remaining few
readers,
rest assured.

Note-worthily
nonobstant to
the fact that I got
some nice silk
‘hearts’ pajama
pants last
Valentines Day
that I’ve been
looking for an
excuse to wear.

Umm….
no,
best not to
visualize…
that’s my advice.

Today’s post
is brought to you
by the letter “N” –
for no other reason
than that I started
writing this thing
that way.

No secret codes
or anything
neat-o
like that.

Just some
nannicking
around with
some N’s, is all –
a write lacking
in any nexility.

But,
it’s a nice letter,
so why not,
I ask you ?

Ok,
so it’s not an “S”
but we can’t all be
s’s, you know.

It does have a very
comfortable spot
right in the middle
of the alphabet,
you gotta admit.

And you never have
to worry about things
going accidentally
plural like with an S.

Not that any of
this pro-N
propaganda
has anything to
do with our
post of the day,
naught –
– nil –
– nerts to that –
– no .

Sorry if it seems
I’m making a noema
about this………

I nuncopate –

Perish the thought.

!!! HOY !!!

It Could Just Be Magic

Prowling the
vaunted halls of
the Muscleheaded
Blog Archive for
fresh post fodder
ain’t always the
safest route to go
sometimes –

– yes,
there’s been a lot
of subject matter
covered on this
here Blog over
the years, and it
gets kinda
discouraging,
at times, to find
that all (most) the
juicy subjects that
I’m interested in have
been flogged almost
to death by yours truly,
leaving little skin
available for fresh ….
errrr…..
treatments.

But no worries –
like the great artist
Salvador Dali once said :
“Have No Fear Of
Perfection, You’ll Never
Reach It “.

And creativity
can come in
all sorts of forms,
ya know.

Sequels,
for instance.

Oh sure,
I’m the first
one to laugh mockingly
when I hear that TV
or movie producers
are fixin’ to make
another vapid
Vin Diesel vehicle ,
or a new talking/
revived/friendly
dinosaur movie,
or Superman XXII –
cause I think it reeks,
or groans, of cliche
and outright desperation.

Creativity can’t be found
in a paint-by-number
approach –
as Jack London would
say, ” You Can’t Wait
For Desperation, You
Have To Go After It “.

So, taking Jack on
his word,
(and totally
disregarding
that comment
about paint by
numbers approaches)
I dug around
and found some
neat-o vintage
magic posters
in my media library
that I actually never
posted about.

I have several friends
who are magicians —
and although they
won’t let me in on
their dark secrets….
( …. damn it….. )
I find that I must
have respect for
anyone who
understands
the true nature
of the Latin
proverb  :
omne ignotum
pro magnifico “.

And
OK,
yeah,
I know I did
magic posters before,
and it’s not really the
most original concept
for a post that I’ve ever
come up with – I admit –
but they’re fun and cool,
and I’m posting ’em,
dammit.

Your Mama can’t stop
me, your Daddy can’t
stop me…. etc, etc, etc.

Hey, you gotta admit,
this post is not only
chock-full of groovy
posters, but some
cleverly astute
quotes, too….

I think maybe this
whole “PART-TWO”
thing could be a
pretty good crutch
as long as one doesn’t
develop a limp on the
other side-
— whatever in
the hell that’s
supposed to mean.

(You can sure tell
quotes that I come
up with)

Anyhoo —
now,
back to :
Magic Posters,
The Sequel.

.

.

!!! HOY !!!