I Wish I Knew the Second Verse to "O, Canada"

This morning two Canadian Mounties knocked at my door. At first I thought they were Salvation Army or something, but to my shock I soon learned otherwise. They were here---what arrogance---to arrest me, after having finally tracked me down in Delaware---for having "assaulted" (sent to the hospital) two Canadian guys who picked a fight with me in that small town of Goosewing, Ontario way back in the '60s when I was draftdodging in Eastern Canada. So the Old Gargoyle will be "incommunicato" for awhile defending himself in Ottawa. During my absence, readers Jennifer, Chris, Nathan, etc. will take turns both hosting and cleaning this blog room (no graffiti, please).

-Old Gargoyle

Graveyard Shift

Last night I worked late at my job as a part-time night watchman at the glue factory. So on my way walking home, I decided to take the shortcut through the cemetery. I was moving gingerly among the headstones in the dark when I heard a man's voice in the distance saying, "Whoo wee, it's cold down here!" Lord, I froze. I listened quietly and heard it again, "Whoo wee, it's cold down here!"

I then slowly followed the sound of the voice, and came upon an open grave which had a pile of dirt surrounding it. I forced myself to look down into it, and could make out a man's body down there in the dark. "Whoo wee, it's cold down here!" he shouted up at me.

"Well, no wonder you're cold," I stammered, "you done kicked all the dirt off you!"

-Old Gargoyle

Yet More Mensa

lymph (v.): to walk with a lisp

balderdash: a rapidly receding hairline

rectitude: the formal, dignified demeanor displayed by proctologists

pokemon: a Rastafarian proctologist

oyster: a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms

frisbeetarianism: the belief that after death the soul flies up onto the roof and becomes stuck there

-Old Gargoyle

Yes, Sir, Coach

That high-school football coach in Kentucky has been acquitted of negligent homicide or whatever by a jury. He had overworked his team in their practice in the August heat, resulting in the death of one of the boys on the team. Thank goodness for such coaches who know how to toughen up our boys. They gotta be protected, or next thing we know we'll have parents "upset" over, say, the coaches showing their teams "Rambo" movies before a game. Gotta weed out the sissy boys, and prepare some of the players for their future role as Army soldiers in endless, winless wars in hellhole foreign countries.

-Old Gargoyle

Czech, Please

I read that B-16 (Pope Benedict XVI) is visiting the Czech Republic and particularly Prague. This reminds me of a dialog I had with my colleague, which I previously posted, and repeat here:

I told my colleague, "Look, it says here that the Archbishop of Prague has been censured by Rome for ordaining a batch of immoral priests."

"Really?" he replied with some shock. "How did that happen? What will the Vatican do to him?"

"I don't know," I said, "but this clearly is a case of a bishop riting bad czechs."

-Old Gargoyle

Abs So Lutey

As I previously commented, we Americans are addicted to shortening our words; we try to limit even three- or four-syllable words to one or two syllables. One notable exception has been the popular "relationship," a whopping four-pounder which we keep intact. But I still await the day when Oprah or Dr. Phil will be speaking about how we can improve our "ship" or "re" with others. Another four-syllabler lately has crept into our speech, and now is overly used by news commentators, politicians, entertainers, interviewees, etc. The word is "absolutely." What the heck is wrong with the one-syllable "yes"? Using "absolutely" does not differ in basic meaning from the simple "yes." Moreover, "absolutely" locks you in---it does not have a fudge factor, whereas "yes" probably does.

Am I confident enough about this to put it into print? Absolutely.

Punch Drunk

I finally obtained my license as an amateur-boxing referee. Refereeing my first fights (four of them) last night wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. And when I left the arena through the back door, two of the dissatisfied boxers caught and beat the hell out of me. Maybe I should switch to Little League.

-Old Gargoyle