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Sunday, April 30, 2017

Why Won’t You Dance?

Why Won’t You Dance?
 This cranky re-run is from April 2013

Mrs. C’s hobby is Ball Room dancing.  She is an amateur, but she is pretty good.  I appreciate the skill and effort it takes to dance, but I have no interest in learning.  Mrs. Cranky recently wanted to know why I am so unwilling to participate in one of her favorite activities.

There is a “Seinfeld” episode (I know Val at  knows immediately which one I am going to relate) where Elaine makes a fool of herself with her bad dancing.  She thinks she is good.  I did not get this episode right away because I also thought she was good.  Therein lies my dancing problem.

I am not talking about Ball Room dancing, I am talking freeform make up your own steps bullshit dancing that 90% of the world does to any music today.  I watch these dancers at weddings today, and way back- when at school parties.  To me it is just a bunch of foot shuffling, arm swinging, head bobbing, facial expression crap.  Whenever I tried to participate and shuffle-swing-bob-sneer, I thought I was really cool. And yet, people laughed at me.

They laughed at me!

I look at all these idiots doing their own fertility-ritualistic-strutting version of dancing and I think, “Damn, they all look like a bunch of assholes” and when I decide to join in because it seems like the thing to do…EVERYBODY LAUGHS AT ME!

Apparently I dance funny.  I look stupid!

I think everyone looks like complete idiots when they dance (not the Ball Room stuff).  I only ever attempted to dance because of peer pressure…and I get laughed at!

Come on Joe, get up and dance…its fun.”

No thanks, I’ll just watch.”

Don’t be a party pooper, dance.”


Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha you look like a spasticated monkey!”

Maybe I am a bit of a clown.  When a clown dances people expect him to look funny.  They don’t see themselves and how silly they look, they only see the clown and they laugh.

Personally I think I dance pretty well.  I think I look cool; me and Elaine.

That is why I don’t dance.

Saturday, April 29, 2017

Stupid Headlines 043017

Stupid Headlines 043017
It’s time again for
Malnutrition at a minimum
This week’s stupid headlines and my stupider, sometimes sophomoric comments. 
Butcher puts nude woman in his display case for 'social experiment' – The woman complained that she felt like just another piece of meat.
Swedish politician wants workers to get paid sex breaks – Why not?  Two or three minutes off each day couldn’t hurt productivity that much.
United Nations elects Saudi Arabia to Women's Rights Commission – What’s next, Jared Fogel head of a boy scout troop?
Declaration of Independence discovery stuns experts – News flash experts, we also won the war.
New Male Sex Robots With Bionic Penises May Just Replace Men For Good! – They are also programmed to lose things and forget to take out the garbage.
Philippine leader Duterte vows to 'eat' ISIS members alive – He will need some fava beans and a little chianti.
Clint Howard divorcing after 22-year marriage – His wife found out he had a cameo performance with Ron’s wife. *
Pregnancy changes a mother's brain for years, study shows – Brain wave changes cause women to clean smutz of faces with a licked thumb and in later years complain that “You never call!”
Proposed shooting range with bar faces opposition from local residents – Oh please!  What could go wrong?
Cocaine bag falls out of man's hat in courtroom – I don’t think this one even needs a comment.
Danica Patrick asks NASCAR for more time to get out of her pajamas to go racing – Maybe she just needs to practice more with her pit crew.
*That is probably mean, but I couldn’t resist…sorry, divorce is never funny…well almost never.
And the feel-good news story of the week:
United flight to Texas makes 'terrifying' emergency landing in Costa Rica after engine overheats and malfunctions – Why is this a feel-good news story? Because my son and daughter-in-law were on that plane and now they are safe at home!

Friday, April 28, 2017

Do Not Dare to Think Wrong

Do Not Dare to Think Wrong
a cranky opinion for
The following is the opinion of a cranky old man.  Opposing opinions are welcome, but please, be nice.  There is no name calling, and that means you, you big stupid-head.
There was a time in our history, the 1950’s, where speech was not protected.  I know little of this time except what I read from many of the oppressed.  It was a time of “Red fear.”  A time where anyone who expressed an opinion other than that of the mainstream-thought-police was labeled a communist.
Anyone in those dark ages who dared think out loud of the possibility of a world where wealth was shared in any way were subject to incarceration at the worst, cold shoulder shunning at best.  Talented people, especially and famously those in the entertainment industry, were blackballed; they could not find work, they could not be hired.  If someone even pointed a finger and claimed you didn’t think correctly, you were ostracized.
Those were scary times.  Times of McCarthyism, times of fear to express an opinion.  It was a time of shame for our country.
Is it so different today?  I will no longer express my political opinion out of fear.  Fear of violence on my person or property.  Fear of being ostracized by neighbors, friends or even family.  Mere mention of a political preference in the wrong place is dangerous.  I have experienced it and it is not nice.  College students are failed for thinking the “wrong way.”  The hate is palpable.  Love trumps hate, it also beats the shit out of people who dare to disagree.
I was never one for bumper stickers or signs on the front lawn, but this last election I saw almost none of these old election standbys.  This last election, people were in fear of expressing a presidential preference.  A bumper sticker for the wrong person on the wrong street might end up in a slashed tire or a broken windshield.  A political sign on a lawn could result in an egg bombed home or worse.  I’ve never before experienced such hate, such fear to express an opinion.  I don't mind if you attack a thought or an idea, but these days people are attacked, not the thought or idea.
Last year my daughter gave me a hat representing a political candidate.  I would not even think of wearing it in public.  Wearing this hat would be asking to have the crap beat out of you for daring to “think wrong.”
This hat resides on the mantle in my basement next to other hats representing my favorite sports teams.  When we have visitors, I put this hat under another, in order to avoid any potential animosity or repercussions it may engender. 
It is silly isn’t it.  I am almost ashamed of myself.  I hide a hat for fear of the reaction it may provoke.  I am actually afraid that friends, even relatives will no longer associate with me if I dare to “think wrong.”
The days of “Red Fear” in the ‘50’s were scary and were wrong.  This country is supposed to be the one place where you are guaranteed the right to “think wrong” without retribution.  I’m not so sure that is true today, so I remain silent.
My silence does not mean I agree with the “correct” thinkers.
The preceding was the opinion of a cranky old man and not necessarily that of management…Mrs. Cranky.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

My New Little Friend

My New Little Friend

“What’s that?” Mrs. C asked me the other morning.

“What’s what?”  She always hears stuff before me.

“Someone is on our deck.”

“Probably the neighbor.” We have a tiny deck that abuts to our neighbors tiny deck separated by a high fence.”

“Yeah, probably.”

I later went downstairs to make some breakfast.  I pulled up the blinds on our sliding doors to the deck and was greeted by this little fellow.

I watched him for several minutes, sometimes nose to nose.  He did not seem concerned as he hung onto the screen, his tiny claws fit into the equally tiny screen holes like Velcro.  I had to finally slide open the door to shoo him away, and even then he did not feel like moving.   I don’t know why I shooed him away, he wasn’t really hurting anything.

He is just a little guy, probably one of this year’s babies.  Perhaps the nest is under the deck.  Do they sometimes nest on the ground…I’ll have to Google that.  I think he just feels safe on that screen, able to watch without fear of anything sneaking up from behind, even me, and with the ability to quick run under the deck if need be.

Is he on his own?  Did mama and or daddy squirrel leave him alone or did they meet their demise? Can they fend for themselves at this young an age? I hope so, he is a cute little guy.

Funny thing about squirrels, people love them or hate them and sometimes both. 

They are cute and acrobatic. / They are rodents!

I love to watch them run and play. / They are bullies and cheat the birds out of seed!

They seem friendly. / They’ll get in your attic if they can and make a mess!

My mom hated the squirrels because they dominated the bird feeder.  She bought and tried many squirrel defenses, and they always figured a way around them and into the seed.  I shared her dislike for their bird seed thievery, as if the birds wouldn’t do the same if they could, and yet I did enjoy watching them.

After breakfast, I went upstairs for a while before deciding to hit the basement for guitar practice.  On the way to the basement I saw my little friend, again clinging to the screen.  I went over and nose to nose said hello.  This time I did not try and shoo him away.

I think I may have a new friend.  I probably should give him a name.


Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Who, who, who do the doo?

Who, who, who do the doo?

The last several weeks, whenever we go to our car, it has been pelted with giant bird droppings.  Above the car is a tree, but we never see any bird or nest in the tree, yet below the tree the car and the driveway seems to be carpet bombed in a narrow two-yard strip of bird crap.

These are not song bird poops.  They are large and nasty.  White with brown in the middle.  WTF!

At night I often hear the call of a barn owl.  I know it is a barn owl because I Googled owl sounds and this one is easy to place.  “Who, who, whoop whoop ti doo.”  I think it is a mating call followed several seconds later from another call I assume from a horney owl, as opposed to a Horned owl.

Anyway, I think this must be the culprit.  We see no bird in the daytime, and anything under the tree is carpet bombed by bird goop in the morning so it must be happening at night when owls are active.

One thing for sure, this bird(s) is very well fed.  I just wish he would stay out of our tree.

Pretty sure last night I heard the call "Who, who? I pooped on you."

Tuesday, April 25, 2017


Many people think dragonflies are fascinating.  Many people like dragonflies as they eat annoying insects, including mosquitoes.  Dragonflies creep me out.  I do not like dragonflies.  They used to scare the beJesus out of me.
Why would I fear a harmless to humans insect?
When I was about five, a vulnerable age, a friend informed me that dragonflies were called darning needles, or even more specifically Devil’s Darning Needles.  At any age, but at five for sure, the moniker “Devil” is always a bit concerning.  Add to that, this friend informed me that darning needles were capable of firing sharp needles from a distance and the tips of these needles were poisonous.  They were painful and they could kill you.
After I received this information I always avoided dragonflies.  When I saw one, which was often, in the summer, I would duck, run or hide.  It always amazed me that no one else ever seemed afraid of these deadly insects.
When I was ten or eleven I ran and ducked from a dragonfly and my brother asked what was wrong.  I informed him about the danger of the Devil’s Darning Needle.  He told me I was full of crap, that in the history of the world, a dragonfly has never hurt a human.
“They don’t sting or bite, and they sure as Hell don’t fire poisonous darts from a distance.”
 Well I knew he was telling the truth.   The only time my brother would lie to me would be to scare the crap out of me for sport, like the time he told me there were wild boars waiting in the bushes to gore people.
on Catalina Island and the goats on the island were man eaters.  If he told me something was actually harmless, then it must be harmless.
So, at the age of eleven I was no longer scared of dragonflies, but they creeped me out and still do, because when an idea is planted in a five-year-old brain, it never completely goes away.
Except for Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, be careful what you teach your children.  Some fears and prejudices never go away completely. 

Monday, April 24, 2017

The Last of the Mohicans

The Last of the Mohicans
 I recently left a comment on a fishducky blog, 
regarding a book and after school detention, that was a bit of a teaser.  She asked that I elaborate.

 Well Ms. Fishducky of the wacky state of California (cue the peanut butter jar label opening to a picture of Fran) “You asked for it!”

It is not much of a story; perhaps I can embellish it a bit.

As an adolescent, I was not a very good student, as a matter of fact that statement would be accurate for me at any age.  In middle school, I was a bit of a cut-up.  I don’t recall being totally obnoxious, generally I interrupted with a pithy comment but not in a too disruptive way.  Sometimes I said nothing but could not stifle a snicker.

“OK Mr. Hagy, what is so funny?” Then I would release my pithy comment.  Sometimes it was very funny…sometimes it was embarrassing.


In the eighth grade, Mr. Franks class, we were studying that American classic by James Fenimore Cooper, “The Last of The Mohicans.”  As I recall this book was awful.  It was, for an eighth grader at least, unreadable.  Plus, I had already seen the movie and did not even like it very much.  I don’t know why they do this to eighth graders. Somehow grown-ups have the opinion that if you are not conversant in the classics, you are uneducated.  The truth is I learned that the book was about Indians in New York State, it was written by James Fenimore Cooper, and stared Randolph Scott in the movie.  That was enough to get me three correct answers over the years while watching “Jeopardy.”

One fateful warm May afternoon we were discussing this horrible piece of literature.  It was one of those perfect spring days where it was stuffy inside the non-air-conditioned classroom, but outside baseball and refreshing spring air were calling.

I was seated next to those huge windows that could only be opened from the top using a long pole with a hook to grab and pull down.  The shades were drawn to hold out the sun (and any fresh air) and block out the distraction of a spring day. The shades were spring loaded things with a long cord to pull down or release (my older readers will know exactly the window and shade I am talking about)

During the discussion, I fashioned a perfect hangman’s noose out of the shade cord, and slipped my copy of “The Last of the Mohicans” into the noose.

When Mr. Frank’s back was turned, the buzzer sounded marking the end of the school day.  I pulled the cord and activated the spring roller.  It made a loud noise, and Mr. Frank and the whole classroom turned to see the book swinging back and forth high off the ground in the pull-cord noose.

“What the Hell?” Asked a startled Mr. Frank.

“No more Mohicans.”  Was my thirteen-year-old response.

The class thought it was very funny.

Mr. Frank was less amused.

And that Ms. Fishducky is how “The Last of the Mohicans” cost me two hours of after school detention.

I’ll bet you’re sorry you asked.

Sunday, April 23, 2017


This re-run is from April 2014
I get it women…men can’t find anything we did not ourselves put away.

Deal with it!

You could stop complaining and just deal with it.  But nooo…you want to torture us don’t you, kind of like ripping the wings off a fly.  Yes you do, admit it.  You know we can’t find the stuff you put away.  You know your directions of where to find stuff that you put away can only be understood by another woman.  Yet you continue to expect us to find things.  It is like expecting a person without legs to dance the jig.

This past weekend, Mrs. C and I were vacationing in Aruba.  It is a beautiful island, and we love lounging in the sun with a constant warm breeze, dunking in the ocean, or bathing in the pool.  It is wonderful, except Mrs. C knows how to stir things up.

I got up from our place in the sun to make a trek to the restroom.  Upon arrival I found I needed a room key to enter.  I walked back to our umbrella (oh the humanity) to get the key.

“What’s up, why back so soon?”

“You need a room key to enter, where is our key?”

“In the beach bag.”

"Could you just get it?”

“Why don’t you get it?”

“Because you could just reach in and grab it, where I will dig around looking, move stuff around and still not find it.”

“Oh please.   Just open the bag, the key is right behind the book.”

“Book?  We have no book.”

“You know, the Tablet, Nook thing.”

“Which is it, the Tablet or the Nook?”



“Yes, one of those.”

“We have both…oh crap let me look…I don’t see it.”

“It is right there.”

“I don’t see it.”

“For crying out loud hand me the bag.”

Mrs. Cranky reaches into the bag that I have been turning inside out and without looking comes out with the room key.

“Here, it was right inside the plastic baggy.”

“But you said it was in the Nook, or the Tablet.”

“Well it was inside the baggy, if you had just looked you would have found it!”

“Well if you had just reached in in the first place like I asked I would have had 180 seconds of my life that is now irrevocably lost.”

“You’re a jerk!”

Aruba is such a beautiful island that I can easily overlook those minor Mrs. Cranky un-pleasantries, besides, without her I would have never found the island. 

Saturday, April 22, 2017


I know that guy!
It’s time again for
This week’s stupid headlines and my stupider, sometimes sophomoric comments. 
Burglar breaks into home, cooks fried chicken – When caught, the distinguished gentleman with white hair, mustache, goatee in a white suit simply asked, “Where do you keep your buckets?”
Man Pretending to Be Cop Pulls Over Real One – Was this the same guy who last week got pulled over for drunk driving wearing a “Drunk Lives Matter” t-shirt?
Make it a crime to show killing on Facebook – Yes, that will make a deranged murderer think twice before posting on Facebook.
‘Sexual favors’ not accepted to pay taxes in Montana town – They’re not accepted in New Jersey either…at least not with me as the favor.
French presidential candidate wants a 100% tax on the rich – That should boost productivity incentive.
Loud sex interrupts tennis match – Too much racket stops Love match?
Microsoft is trying to make passwords obsolete – This is just so stupid.  If all passwords were “obsolete” hackers would have a field day!
Carmelo Anthony Did Not Get Another Woman Pregnant Before Split from Wife – It is a crazy world we live in when this is a headline. 
Nevada voter fraud probe finds 3 voted illegally in November – Only need to find 2,899,998 more to prove Trump is right.
Japan has plans to drill through the earth's crust and reach the mantle – Drill through the Earth’s crust?  Hello, it’s above the fireplace!
LGBTQ, transgender issues should be taught in nursery school, UK teachers' union says – I think you need to teach them the alphabet first, or they’ll get this confused with the twelfth letter, “Elemeno P.”
Bikers heard marine’s remains were coming home in USPS box, refused to let that happen – These dudes deserve a little recognition.  They also keep those Westboro Baptist Church A-holes away from desecrating veteran’s funerals.
Come back next Sunday for more

Friday, April 21, 2017

Marijuana, Good or Bad?

Marijuana, Good or Bad?
A cranky opinion for


The following is the opinion of a cranky old man with almost no knowledge on the topic opined.  Opposing opinions are welcome…they are welcome, but wrong.  As always, no name calling, and that means you, you big stupid-head!

It’s April 20 as I write this, apparently it is some sort of a marijuana special day.  I don’t know why, but it is a good excuse for an opinion piece this Saturday for “Crank Opinion Saturday.”

Unlike former President Clinton, I have inhaled marijuana.  I have inhaled it several times.  In the very early 70’s I had a puff or two so as to not look like a dork when a joint was being passed around at a party.  I got a bigger high from a Marlboro than from that 1970 cannabis.  Still if I was caught with a joint in my hands in those days I might have done some serious jail time.

Years later, while stuck with several co-workers in a hotel during a major NYC snow storm, I took another hit off a joint.  This one knocked me for a loop.  I think, on further reflection, it was laced with something.  It made me very paranoid and I did not like it.

Fast forward a few more years, and I imbibed with a friend whose wife used it to combat the effects of chemotherapy for her brain cancer.  It made me silly, but I quite enjoyed it.  That is my total experience with marijuana.

That is the problem with pot.  One batch does nothing, one batch plays with your head in a very negative way, and one batch is enjoyable.  You do not know what you are getting.

Based on my limited experience, I am not a big fan of pot.  I find it to be  antisocial and I prefer alcohol as my drug of choice. 

Should it be legal? 

How do you seriously keep it illegal? 

Hell, the stuff grows like a weed, because, well…it is a weed.  Throw a few seeds anywhere, and it will grow.  How do you regulate something that grows anywhere?  We had enough trouble with prohibition in the 20’s, and you couldn’t throw a vodka seed in the garden and grow a fifth.

Pot is not going away.  Like it or hate it, and there are many negative things to say about it, it is not going away.  If it is legal, at least it can be regulated for potency and some taxes can be collected to offset some of the negative social issues that go along with the drug.

Pot is not good.  Gambling is not good.  Alcohol is not good.  Tobacco is not good.  Prostitution is not good.  Pornography is not good.  TV is not good.  Soda is not good.  Sugar is not good.  Any current music is not good.  We allow, we enjoy lots of stuff that is not good.  Where do we as a society draw the line?  What do we allow?

If it can kill you or others, I say it has to be illegal.  If it makes you stupid but harms no one else, it should be discouraged.  If it is unproductive, perhaps it should be regulated.  Pot does not seem to kill others, it sometimes does make you stupid, it is not productive, so I say let it be legal and let it be regulated.

The world has lots of problems, I am in favor of eliminating one of them…make pot legal and regulated.  Have a drink, eat a bag of chips, bet your week’s salary on the horses, chug down that caramel colored sugar water, enjoy a good cigar, watch some crappy reality TV.  If it only hurts yourself, it is your life, your choice, have at it.

The preceding was the opinion of a cranky old man, and not necessarily that of management, Mrs. Cranky.