Feel Free to Use This...

There are three little goals I have every year, starting in October and ending in December.

1. I try to make it through the Halloween "season" without hearing "Monster Mash" by Bobby "Boris" Pickett. I like the song, but after 50+ years, I'm sick of it.

2. I try to get through the Christmas season without hearing "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer." The first half-dozen times or so that I heard it, those long years ago, it was cute. Now, not so much.

3. I try to get through the last few weeks of the year without having anyone say "See you next year!" to me. That one's really annoying.

Needless to say, every year my "survival rate" for all three sucks, because I have such little control over each.

However, this year, I came up with a handy-dandy reply to #3, one which I give you permission to use:

"Not if I kill you, now."

As I said, feel free to quote me... if you tell people where you heard it.

Thanks for your time.

For the Holidays

Just because I have white hair and a beard does NOT mean I like being compared to Santa Claus. Keep those comparisons to yourself. And I'm not the only one who feels that way. Keep that in mind, fellow babies, before you say something similar to any bearded, white-haired gent. And don't try to push it by saying "But you should take it as a compliment! Everyone loves Santa Claus!" or remarks like that.

(If you really want to give it a positive spin, offer the guy a job as Santa on the spot.)

Anyway, I was feeling decidedly UN-Santa-ish four years ago today when I posted the following original poem. Please excuse the grammatically-incorrect line, "I'm not him!":

I'm not Santy Claus!

You can call me Anti-Claus!

Don't bunch up your panties, 'cause...

I'm not him!

Going quite insane, here.

Love to cause you pain, dear!

What's for breakfast? Reindeer!

(I'm not him.)

I see you when you're sleeping,

I know when you're awake,

I see you when you're naked,

So give that tail a shake!

Lumps of coal to all o'you.

Anti-Claus will follow you,

Eat you up, and swallow you!

I'm not "him!"

Ask for toys, you'll get a slap.

Don't give me that "giving" crap,

And put yo' Mama on my lap!

I'm not him!

I deleted a reference to the TSA which was a lot funnier then -- it was more timely four years ago -- believe me.

If you want to read the original post, which included more holiday stuff, click here. If, instead, you'd like to see a whole sleigh-full of YouTube videos (and a few dead links) for the 2009 season, and some lengthy ruminations on Christmas songs in general, click here instead.

Or don't click on either link. Just don't tell me.

So, Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to those of you who celebrate something, anything, this time of year. That includes Pagans, Muslims, Jews... even atheists and agnostics. (Some of them enjoy the holiday season, too, ya know!)

I'm the one on the right. On the right, I said!

Thanks for your time, fellow babies.

Joe Cocker, 1944-2014, R.I.P.

Singer Joe Cocker has died at age 70, after a battle with lung cancer.

Like many of us, I first became aware of Joe Cocker's work shortly after he appeared at Woodstock in 1969. No one who's heard his version of the Beatles' "With a Little Help from My Friends" will ever forget it.

I remained a fan of Mr. Cocker's as long as he remained on the charts, and after.

There was a lot of talk about the strange gestures Cocker used when he performed. After a close look at the film of his antics at Woodstock, it appeared to me that what he was actually doing was playing air guitar. I was curious as to why I'd never seen that referenced anywhere. (I'm sure it was, and that I missed it. After all, even I can't read everything.)

But if it'll make you feel any better, this article about Cocker's death did mention that he was playing air guitar, and "air piano" as well!

I'd like to close this brief tribute piece with something rather uplifting. It has to be seen to be appreciated!

Thanks for your time.

Five Years Gone

I'm participating in this week's Sepia Saturday, and just squeaked by under the prompt photo's theme, which is that of "families, festivities, trees, candles and wine." So I guess that keeps me from being a Sepia Scrooge.

I'd like to do a little tribute to my mother, who passed away five years ago today (December 20th) at the age of ninety-two.

For a year or so, after she died, I'd do little pieces based on the fact of her loss. The first Mother's Day without her, the first birthday she wasn't here to celebrate with us, etc.  Then I suggested to myself that I should stop being so maudlin and attempt to get on with my life.

But I thought that, for this five-year "anniversary" of sorts, my readers would excuse me if I published one more little remembrance of the woman who raised me.

 

My mother was born Anita Hartman on October 20th, 1917. And, as I've said before...

There were more technological advances during the span of my mother's life than I could list, even in a post of my usual entry's length...

My mom lived to see high-definition, flat-screen televisions. When she was born, radio hadn't even entered its golden age. Commercial air travel hadn't even gotten off the ground... errr... so to speak. And I could go on.

...but I won't.

I'm just going to share a few photos of my mother, spanning roughly 92 years.

The earliest existing photo of Anita

Hartman (center), at approximately age 3.

(Close-up of same.)

Mom at roughly 4¹_/2, being held by her older sister Josie.

Mom's rather unusual haircut above was "designed" by my

mom herself, on a day when she ran amok with a pair of scissors.

Yearbook senior photo, 1935

Mom's autograph, from that same yearbook, a yearbook my mother never owned.

Mom and Dad on their wedding day, September 28th, 1940.

Circa 1943

Mom and Grammy Josephine, mid-1950s. Photo taken by my young sister, Kathy, hence the upward angle.

Mom at approximately fifty, late 1960s.

And the above photo is one of my favorites of my mother!

Thanks for your time.

A Bad, Bad Idea

I love coffee.

I like potato chips.

Recently, someone gave me a bag of the Cappuccino-flavored potato chips shown above. (I never would have bought a bag!)

I made the mistake of trying them, skeptical though I was.

Never again!

They're vile, fellow babies, vile!!!

As today's post title says, this was a bad, bad idea.

Shame on you, Lay's.

Thanks for your time. 

A Quick Question

Why the hell do some bloggers sign up to follow their own blogs???

I mean, don't you know when you post?

If you're one of them, please tell me! I really wanna know!

Thanks for your time.

What's Wrong with This Picture?

The above-pictured postcard showed up in my sister's mail several weeks ago.

Now, I realize that these companies target endless numbers of families, and the names are computer-generated, but really...

”Lynch” is not a Polish name!

If the card had offered “Irish Apparel JUST FOR YOU!” it wouldn't have surprised me a bit. (In fact, I've received mailings like that in the past.)

So next time, guys, have your computer do its homework.

Thanks for your time.