Breakfast at Tiffany's

So I invite loopy neighbor Emory to breakfast at Edna's Cafe on main street. As we enter the restaurant, a woman with a dog enters at the same time.

"Whoa!" Emory says to me, "A dog can't come into a restaurant."

"Don't worry," I reply, "it's wearing a sign which says, 'Service Dog.'" Emory grunts and we're quickly met by the waiter who leads us to our table.

Emory proceeds to embarrass me by ordering---ugh---beets and squash loudly enough for the other customers to overhear, as he thinks that he's thereby promoting our farm products. As we're finishing our meal, the knucklehead then turns to the dog which is on the floor at the table next to ours and shouts several times, "Hey, service dog, get me another cup of coffee!"

Joy to the World

Thanks to my six readers who mailed me a fruitcake or figgy pudding. Five of the items arrived here in Seine in time for Christmas. O blessed am I! Enough to last me until at least the summer! The sender of the one item (a figgy pudding) which was late---and you know who you are---is penalized by having the homework assignment of rereading all my blogs and properly categorizing them.

Ma and Pa Ternity

I'm eating for two these days. Yep, while Jonka is visiting her relatives in the mysterious ethnic neighborhoods of Cleveland, I'm cooking for both of us and eating both our meals.

Seat of Wisdom

I was relaxing reading the newspaper in my easy chair after the Christmas hubbub when my young grandson, Huey (yes, the other two are named Dewey and Louie), said to me, "Are you busy, Grandpa?"

"Yes, I am," I replied.

"You don't look so busy," he said.

"Well, I am. I'm obfuscating superfluous malfeasance."

"Wow," he remarked wide-eyed, "you make it look so easy."

A Most Deserving Kind of Guy

I really, really hope Gary Busey had a merry Christmas.

A Christmas Carol

When I recently was with the Gulliver's Travels group playing The Tourist in Quebec, I decided to extend my Social Network by hitting a couple of bars at night. At the Burlesque, I met a beautiful Black Swan which, as it turned out, had True Grit. To my surprise, she spoke to me in The King's Speech. When I expressed my disbelief at her ability, she responded with such screeching and scratching, I thought I was trapped in a Tron nightmare. I got the hell out of there faster than you could say "Roger Ebert!"

They Prefer Santa

After some forty years, this will mark the first Christmas Day that none of my children will be with the little woman and me. I wonder if it's because they're tired of their old man belching and farting at the Christmas dinner table.