NEW AND IMPROVED
This blog is now sugar FREE, fat FREE, gluten FREE, all ORGANIC and all NATURAL!!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
SHOOT ME IF…..
I know I am getting old because I wake up with pains in my body and I have no idea what I did to cause them. I can live with that, but if there comes a time when I get caught doing certain things, please put me out of my misery.
Shoot me if…..
You catch me sifting through sand on the beach with one of those metal detectors on my arm.
You catch me wearing one of those European Speedos.
You catch me standing in line for an early bird special.
You catch me combing my hair from a part just above my left ear.
You catch me wearing a white leather belt with matching loafers.
You catch me going to a psychic for advice.
You catch me driving 40 mph in a 60 mph zone…. in the left hand lane.
You catch me peeing in a sink.
You catch me trying to do the NY Times crossword puzzle with a magnifying glass and a magic marker.
You catch me flirting with a mail box.
Just one thing, please...not in the face! "Big Pussey from The Sopranos"
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Easter Sunday, and I forgot to get a card for my wife. She got me not one, but two cards. I now officially feel twice as crappy. I wanted to get a card for her. She hinted for me to get a card for her, and yet I forgot.
Women love cards. They love the sentimental poems written by someone you’ve never heard of, someone you will never know. Wives and girl friends love the mushy sentimental cards.
Men don’t really give a rat’s backside about cards. Maybe we like them for a birthday, but other occasions…no. If we do get a card we most appreciate the funny ones. We love cards with pictures of old women with droopy breasts, and cards with young women with perky breasts. We love the “I forgot cards”, the “I didn’t get you a present, but I got you this card” card, and any card with a farting reference. We especially love the fart reference card.
Women like the funny cards also, but wives and girl friends want mushy. They know their man is incapable of saying those romantic little something’s, but he can at least buy someone else’s romantic stuff, sign it, and hand it over. As Dr. Phil would say, “I git that.” I “git” it, but I usually forget it.
Some special days are easy to remember. Christmas cards and birthday cards are easy to remember, they go with a present. Valentine’s Day cards are easy to remember, if you forget them once, the repercussions are such that it is just not ever going to happen again. Mother’s day cards are easy to remember. That statement you made on her first Mother’s day, “You’re not my Mother” was a mistake you will not soon forget. Wedding anniversary cards are the weapons of mass defection if you forget them.
Some occasions I just do not get. Arbor Day, St. Patty’s Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, my children’s birthdays, groundhog day, Thanksgiving, Boxing day (in the USA?), New Years eve, New Years day, Cinco de mayo, Ground Hog day, St. Swithin’s day, and the “Just Because Day” are all days I manage to not remember. I try to remember them, because they are preceded by subtle hints, and the outright, “You don’t have to get me a card!” You don’t have to get me a card means, “Testing one two three…are you there? Do you care?”
When given the subtle hint I remind myself all day, “don’t forget the card, don’t forget the card, don’t forget the card, don’t forget the card.” Somewhere along the way I ask myself, “what did I forget, what did I forget, what did I forget, what did I forget?” Finally I answer myself, “must have been nothing, must have been nothing, must have been nothing, must have been nothing.”
When I get home cardless my wife says nothing, but her eyes shout, “You failed! You failed! You failed! You failed!” There is no makeup test; the grade for this occasion is an F. This is why the “Just because” card was invented. This card is useless unless it is delivered at least two weeks after the failing grade.
I wish Hallmark would invent a new card; the “Trump Card” card. The Trump card which would be a very expensive ornate and highly sensitive card would be purchased at any time, and saved for that special occasion where you screw up really bad. If for any occasion, (except your wedding anniversary) you forget to buy a card, you can retrieve and hand over the Trump card. This will “trump” the screw-up and entitle the bearer to be automatically and completely forgiven.
The “Trump” card would easily become Hallmark’s biggest seller.
Order "Maybe It's Just Me!" @http://www.rosedogbookstore.com/maitjumerath.html
Saturday, April 23, 2011
IF I HAD TEN WISHES
1. I wish I had a nickel every time a politician said “The American People want…”
2. I wish people would receive a small electric shock every time they said “awesome dude”, “aaight”, ”you know”, or “we was conversatin.”
3. I wish my ex-wives would come down with a rare disease which would cause them to hic-cup “Camptown Racetrack” four times a day.
4. I wish at a meeting with the Pope, the Heads of all major protestant churches, The top Rabbi’s from all the Jewish sects, the Major Mullah’s from all of Islam, the biggest Buddhist, and the highest Hindi; Jesus, Mohammad, Moses, and Buddha would walk in holding hands and yell “JUST FRIGGIN STOP IT!”
5. I wish everybody called Snooki, Zelda.
6. I wish the guy in the blue Camry who cut me off and gave me the finger yesterday on the Garden State Parkway would develop incurable BO.
7. I wish I could wiggle my nose and fuck with anyone named Darren.
8. I wish scientists would develop a cure for all diseases except the Camptown Racetrack hic-cup thing and incurable BO.
9. I wish that the first woman President of the United States will be named Bambi.
10. I wish the New England Patriots would go undefeated for a whole season only to lose the Super Bowl to the NY Giants.
One out of ten ain’t bad!
For more similar crap see
"Maybe It's Just Me!" @
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Golf is a game that challenges athletic ability, concentration, strategy, and maturity. With age, my athletic ability is on the decrease. My concentration tends to…..what? Oh yeah, wander. Strategy is less important as my athletic ability declines. Hmmmm 210 yards to the green, should I go for it or lay-up? This was a strategy decision 15 years ago, now the answer is easy, lay-up….TWICE! Then go for it! At least as I grow older I should show more maturity on the course. I think. From my recent observation of some older links men, golf maturity may not be a given as we age.
Last summer my college friend Don “Squeak” Harjes (named for his sometimes high pitched voice) invited me to his private golf club. It turns out it was not really his private club; it was a nice little public course in the Pennsylvania sticks. What attracted Squeak to this club was it had a landing strip for small airplane access. Don is not much of a golfer, but he loves to fly his small single engine plane. For someone used to waiting hours to tee off a public cow pasture, an un-crowded club in the middle of Pennsylvania sounded pretty good. Getting there by air seemed very cool.
I was a bit concerned about the pilot. Squeak was not the valedictorian of our class. He missed by about 320 graduates in a class of maybe 323. Don had, however, done very well since his college days. He started up a small insurance business and turned it into a large successful insurance company.
My trepidation of flying with Squeak was assuaged by his confident demeanor and apparent flying knowledge. Everything was by the book. His preflight check list was very thorough. After all systems were to his satisfaction we took off from his airport in central New Jersey. About half way to the course, we approached the Allentown airport at an altitude of about 2000 feet. I was very impressed when Captain Don (never call your pilot Squeak) got on the radio.
“Allentown airport, this is Centurian four one niner kilo destination Happy Landing Golf Course, requesting clearance and radar check for any nearby aircraft; over.” This was very impressive….until the airport responded.
“Squeak, is that you? Damn, who are you trying to impress? There is not a cloud in the sky, visibility is ten miles, and you have instruments that will pick up an approaching sea gull if it gets close enough. OVER.” “Ah…Rodger Allentown thanks for the update. OUT.” I was now a little less impressed and a little more nervous.
After about 40 minutes, we approached the golf course. Heading in to the landing strip, which I did not see until we were 150 yards away, gliding just above a grove of trees and a power line, Captain Don informed me that the landing may be “A bit dicey!”
We did land safely, but I was scared shitless! “Squeak, what is up with the ‘a bit FREAKING dicey’ comment!”
“Oh, it was not a problem, just with the cross winds sometimes the landing is a bit bumpy.”
“THEN SAY BUMPY, NOT DICEY! What the fuck does dicey mean?”
By the time we covered the $36 greens and cart fees and were ready to tee off, my blood pressure was almost normal. We played behind a twosome, both elderly gentlemen. Squeak and I are 64, so elderly gentlemen means old; almost walker-old.
It was a pleasant uneventful round. As we reached the fourteenth hole, I had a chance to score under one hundred, Squeak had a shot at ninety.
The elderly gentlemen were teeing off, so we stayed in the cart a hundred yards away and watched. We were in no hurry. The first man up drove his ball straight down the middle. It dribbled maybe 80 yards. “FUCK!” He yelled as he slammed his driver into the ground. The second man up sliced his ball deep into the right hand woods. “SHIT!” It was lost for sure. “Take a Mulligan”, his partner advised. Accepting the Mulligan gesture, the second man teed his ball and slashed at it once again. This shot was pulled to the left, 80 yards into a swamp. “Fucking shitty crap damnitty damn damn!” The distinguished gentleman screamed as he wound up and flung his $300 Callaway diver in disgust. He pulled that throw worse than he pulled his drive. The club landed and stuck 10 feet up in a tree one hundred feet to his left.
Don and I were trying to hold back our laughter when the twosome asked if we wanted to play through. “Go ahead, no rush” we advised.
This was a show we were not going to miss.
The Geezer golfers surveyed the situation. They shook the tree; Nothing. They threw their other driver at the stuck club. The fourth try was a direct hit; both clubs tumbled back towards earth. Both clubs got stuck 8 feet off the ground. Don and I watched in amazement as these two golfers, both of whom walked like a 14 year old golden retriever climbing stairs, attempted to climb the tree.
Golfer number one made a stirrup with his hands and boosted golfer number two about eight inches up where he grabbed a foothold on a branch. Don stood ready to dial 9-1-1 with his cell phone. If either of these geezers fell, they would break like a light bulb dropped on cement. Regardless of the danger, Don and I were now laughing convulsively. With one foot on a broken branch and a seven iron in his hand the geezer golfer managed to free the $600 worth of drivers and they finally continued on their way. They were on the green before Don and I could stop laughing enough to tee off ourselves.
Green fees $36, fuel to get to golf course $150, Two Callaway drivers $600, watching two geezers risk their lives climbing a tree; priceless!
I’m sure the geezer golfers were accomplished respected gentlemen in their own realm, but they left their maturity in the locker room.
Don and I finished the round uneventfully, stifling our laughter all the way in. Don finished at 94, I managed a 102. The scores were secondary after the tree climbing spectacle.
On our way to the plane, through the club house, we passed the old dudes regaining their composure over a couple of beers. As we passed, Squeak paused and gave the geezers a golfing tip, “When you fling your club, don’t use too much right hand, it will cause a pull every time!”
Although I thought this comment was very funny, only two people laughed.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
THE ROYAL WEDDING
The big wedding is coming up. Everyone will be able to watch the pomp and circumstance of Prince William and Princess-to-be Kate’s ceremony. Millions and millions will watch on TV, the internet, and it will be filmed for posterity. Only a select few will enjoy the royal reception.
Here is what we will all miss:
William and Kate are introduced, “And now for the first time ever as Prince and Princess” to Steve Martin singing “King Tut.”
Prince Charles is introduced as the “Future King, and perhaps current Queen”.
Camilla is announced as “Charlie’s friend”.
A major faux pas is committed when the Queen and Prince Phillip are introduced as "Mr. and Mrs. Mountbatten."
The DJ is introduced to the castle dungeon.
All the guests join in to dance the traditional “Hoity Toity”:
Put your right arm in; try not to be real loud;
Make your hand a little cup and you wave it like your proud;
You do the Hoity Toity and you smile a phony smile;
That’s how you please the crowd.
Before dinner is served and when everyone is seated, the Prince and Princess shake hands after much glass clinking. Then comes the highlight to the evening, the Prince’s College chum stands to make the Best-man speech.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Dukes and Duchesses, Earls and Earlesses, Princes, Queen, future Kings and most commons….. I was told not to use commoners; I have known William for ten years. Let me tell you, he is a real Royal. A royal pain in the ass! (Rim shot) What a bore. His favorite game is checkers. He loves to say ‘King me’ (Rim shot).
William could have gone to college anywhere. He was accepted in the states to several schools. He turned down Princeton, been there done that! (Rim shot) Duke was beneath him. (Rim shot) Queens College was out of the question (Rim shot) Kings College is in Brooklyn, next to Queens, that was too confusing. (Rim shot) He settled on St. Andrews.
Willy wanted to study Oceanography until he realized he was The Prince of Wales; the island, not the fish. (Rim shot) Bill wanted to try his hand at the theater. When his first play was finished the audience took a bow. (Rim shot)William will be a perfect King. When he goes to the loo he uses a real throne! (Rim shot)
Of course Charlie over here is going to be King first. That’s what Liz said. I quote ‘he will be King over my dead body’. (Rim shot) Charlie you will be a great King, one who will listen to the people. Everyone says you are all ears! (Rim shot) Charles got thrown out of a casino the other day. He wanted to play craps, but he couldn’t hang on to the Di! (Rim shot) Wow Camilla, that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since…..well you know. (Rim shot) Look at the Queen; she knows what I’m talking about!
Then there is Katie. Katie, William promises to treat you like a Princess. I know he loves you, he has told me so. 'Alf,’ he told me, ‘I love her…whatever love is.’ (Rim shot) I know he thinks you are very intelligent he always tells me how much he loves your head! (Rim shot) Just remember William’s house really is his castle. (Rim shot) Finally, Katie I hope you know what you’re getting into. This is permanent. The only escape is to tunnel your way out!” (Rim shot)
At least the DJ had some company.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
When I was working for a major Wall Street firm I must have used at least 15 applications which required a password for access. I would have liked to have used only one password, but that was not possible. You would think that a company would establish one set of rules for choosing a password. You would think wrong.
One application required a 3-5 alpha character password; one required a 7-10 alpha character password. Some applications required at least one uppercase character, and some required at least one numeric. Most applications required the password be changed every month.
I used at least seven different passwords. For those applications which were not used every day, violating the password was a given. Unless I guessed correctly it would be three tries and you are out. I wonder how many hours of productivity per day are wasted by employees trying to have their passwords reset.
We were always warned that choosing a password was important. Do not pick something obvious like your birthday. Don’t use your initials. Don’t use the names of your wife or kids or pet or your parents or your grandparents. Do not use any name or number that anyone could tie to you as that would be too easy for a scammer to figure out and get unauthorized access to an application. Essentially the rule was to never choose a password that you might actually remember.
Since I could not remember the seven to ten different passwords I was required to use, all of which I was required to change monthly, the obvious solution was to record all my passwords and the associated applications on a piece of paper and leave it under my keyboard. This also was frowned upon.
“Do not leave your list of passwords where they may be easily found!”
OK, I cannot use passwords which I can easily remember, and when I write them down so I can remember them, I need to put the cheat-sheet in a not obvious place. In effect, hide the list of passwords which you cannot remember in a place that you will also not remember.
I developed a secret code based on numbers and the alphabet. Using this code, I recorded the hiding place that I could not remember which held the passwords for all the applications which I could not remember and placed it under the keyboard. I recorded the key to the code which told me where I hid the passwords that I could not remember and hid it somewhere no one would ever suspect. I recorder this location on a piece of paper and taped it blank side up to my keyboard. On the blank side I wrote K2PWLcLiUtP (Key to password location code location is under this paper.)
Weeks later I was fired! At night, my computer was broken into and an application accessed which enabled the hacker to steal sensitive information which cost the firm several million dollars. I was fired for breaking the rules of password security. I forgot that the password for this sensitive application was K2PWLcLiUtP.
Friday, April 15, 2011
HOW TO BE HERO
Why is it more admired to be a fuck-up who straightened out his act because it was either that, die, go to jail, or end up as a sewer living bum, than someone who never fucked-up at all?
If you want a standing ovation on today’s talk shows, simply admit to being a recovered anything.
I used to rape women, but I got help and have not raped a woman in 6 weeks. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! I used to shoot heroin three times a day, and rob little old ladies to pay for my habit, but I got help and have been heroin free for 10 days. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! I used to snort cocaine and diddle little boys, but I got help and have been snort and diddle free for 3 weeks. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! I once was a crack smoking, nose picking, non-showering, bulling, alcoholic, peeping Tom, pedophile, raincoat flashing pervert who made a living as a bunko artist preying on crippled widows. I got help and am now a non-crack addicted, no-nose picking, showered, sweet, friend of Bill who has not peeped in a window, or lured little children with candy for three months. I make a living counseling addicted, bad smelling nose picking, pedophile perverts. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
EXCUSE ME, I have never raped a woman, shot heroin, robbed little old ladies, snorted cocaine or diddled little boys! chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp.
Well…..I did to crack my knuckles, but I got help and I have been knuckle crack free for 2 years. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
All you recovered asshole worshipers…..FUCK YOU! clap clap clap clap clap.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
THE NAME OF THE GAME IS FOOTBALL
Watching any football game on TV, someone from another country might be confused as to what is the name of this game. Everyone keeps calling it FOOTBALL, and yet the announcer keeps calling it other things.
“Al, that play was just awful. You gotta step into the hole on that run and HIT someone. This game is very simple Al. The name of the game is ‘HIT”’.
“Right you are Ron. You cannot just arm tackle. It is as simple as this Al; the name of this game is “TACKLE”!
“That’s it, ‘Tackle and HIT’!”
“Ron, that’s true, but you have to give some credit for that run to Winslow. He made a Heck of a block on the middle linebacker. I say the name of this game is “BLOCKING”.
“Al I’ll give you that. The name of this game is really ‘BLOCK and TACKLE and HIT!’.”
“That is so true Ron, and also ‘Special Teams’.”
“OK Al, let’s just say the name of this game is “BLOCK and TACKLE, SPECIAL TEAMS and HIT’.”
‘“And ‘BALL CONTROL’”.
“And CLOCK MANAGEMENT”
“OK Ron, so we agree. The name of this game is ‘Block and Tackle, Special Teams, Ball Control, Clock Management, and HIT’”.
“Reading the defense Al, don’t forget the importance of the QB reading the defense”.
“Good one Ron, also adjusting the defense to the offensive formation”.
“So then we can say the name of the game is, ‘Block and Tackle, Special Teams, Ball control, Clock Management, Reading the D, Adjusting to the O, and HIT’”?
“Penalties Al. Sometimes they make a difference”
“How about Turnovers Ron? We can’t forget Turnovers.”
“I agree Al. So then simply put the name of this game is, ‘Block and Tackle, Special Teams, Ball control, Clock Management, Reading the D, Adjusting to the O, Penalties, Turnovers and HIT’”?
“You know Ron, we could just sum it up to the name of the game is ‘Offense and Defense’”. OR:
How about…the name of the game is FOOTBALL!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Just as an experimental, I thought I would try and wright while under the imfluence of alcohol. I had only had 7 scotched and too beers, so it should not bee to bad.
I basically gave up drinking three months ago, so this is strictly four experimentally porpoises only. In do not feel at this point that I are drunken. I repeat, I believe I ament drunken but in fact am sobriety.
Alcohol has an important place in out societal and is partaken bye almost every parson. In the twentieth centurian the USA tried to make alcohol unlegality. This was not effective as it lead to much criminality behaviorial behavior. It were called “Prohibital” and it proved to bea a failed experimental.
Over indulgence of licker can be a dangerous thin, but I intend to prove that even when slightly enebriateded, one can still become coherented. In other words, even when slightly enebriateded, one can still be coherented.
Therefore I believe that President Obama is too liberal for this country, conservatively speaking of course.
Other than that, people that drink should not drive. Conversely people that drive should n’t be drunken. The other day I was accused. Bull shit!
Hear is the secret to safty drinking. Beer on whiskey mighty risky, whiskey on beer what the fuck. Don’t fear. Or maybe its beer then whiskey mighty risky, whiskey then beer never fear. Something likes that. Either way, watch how you mixer.
I used to be drimking very a lot. That was when I was stupid.
One of the problems with drinking two much is u thinkin you are very cleaver. Ever else thimks you are an arse whole. They won’t be telling you because knowone wants to be arguing with an drunk.
You have opinions on political, and no one ever dissagrues because no one wants to argueate with a drunk.
As bed as drinking may be; even so it can have repercussions which arnt always ignorant.
Por exemplum: (that’s Latin for such ass.)
I was drunk when I first realized that midgets are actually very short giants. Convexly giants are huge midgets!
I was crocked when I first realize that clams on the half-shell are actually on a full shell, just not within their bivalve. They should bee calling clams on the uni-valve.
I was inebriated when I first realized television was one word. Therefore TV should correctly just be T.
I was wasted when I realized it was colder at night because the moon was so much smaller than the sun.
I was blitzed when I knew that knowing the shortest distance around a straight line was two points, made no sense.
I was bombed when I realized that Newton did not discover gravity, he discovered figs.
I was loaded when I thought if everyone wood face east and run in place for five minutes a day we could eliminate February 29th.
I was toasted the first time I realized……..I was toasted the first time I realized.
I don’t know about ewe, but when I drink I am becoming very Charmin. At least that’s what I thought. It turns out peoples are laughing at me, not within I.
I started drinking in college. How could something bee bad if you learned it in college?? That’s what I say. In college we drank until the room was spinning. Turns out that was a bad thing, usually anding on your niece hugging the toilet.
In college we tried to drunkin our dates in order to sexing. In my first marriage, I drank in Lew of sexing. In my second marriage I drank to survive my second marriage. In my third marriage I quiet drinking in order to sexing.
Finalist, and in cocoon I want two state that drimking is ultimately something which needs to be done in moderate. It is fine to relax, it is fine to relax. Relaxing is fine. Butt, when drimking to excessivenate it is not a good think!
I urge my children and my grandestchildren, learn from my lessen. Drink to moderate, not in excessive. Never ever drink and drive, if you cannot at leasten walker.
I used two be stupin, donut you be all so!
Monday, April 11, 2011
If aliens landed on Earth and watched TV commercials for a week, they would return to their planet and report that the big hairy rough fat people on Earth are clearly inferior, weaker, stupider and subservient to the smaller smooth faced long haired gentle creatures.
A big burley guy is rummaging through the refrigerator looking for the fancy deserts that he hears his wife talking about on the phone (unaware she is talking about low-fat yogurt.) When the wife sees the husband looking in the fridge, she admonishes “Babe, what are you doing?” It is as if she caught him wearing her panties. The big burley husband looks up like he is guilty of a major crime, and is about to be severely chastised by his wife of whom he is clearly scared shitless.
I know this is just a commercial and it is aimed at women who buy most of the yogurt, but….WOMEN…. Does this really make you feel better about yourself? Congratulations, you married a weak spineless p-whipped asshole who is scared to be even caught looking in the refrigerator without your permission. And please, DUDE, look her in the eye and say “What am I doing? I’m looking for that key lime pie you’re talking about, dammit. I pay for that stuff, I want it, I pay for this refrigerator, I’ll open it, and I pay for that phone, get off it and find me some pie!
A wife seeing her husband with goggles and a power-hose says, “Oh, you’re going to wash the deck?”
The dopey looking husband responds, “Not wash, POWER wash.” He then proceeds to power spray everything off the table and the deck, losing control of the hose and looking like a complete idiot! Later he is seen to be proud of his accomplishment while the wife gives him that sympathetic understanding look that says in typical TV fashion, “You big teddy bear, your intentions are good even if you are an incompetent bumbling boob.” Not for nothing, but if you can’t control a power washer; put on a flipping skirt!
A husband is talking with a neighbor about his cereal. “This can’t have any fiber, it doesn’t taste like cardboard.” The look in his neighbor’s eyes tells him that his wife is right behind him, arms folded and about to tell him off. “She’s right behind me isn’t she” He asks in total fear.
DUDE! This is cereal that you probably paid for. Are you really afraid to express an opinion that it tastes too good to have fiber? And what guy in the whole free world actually gives a flying rat’s behind if his cereal has fiber or not?
WOMEN! Is this really how you want to be perceived? Do you really think it is cute that your husband is such a weak sniveling panty waist? I hope you never need to be defended because this guy will just step aside and say, “She is all yours.”
The emasculation starts at a young age.
Two boys are jumping a rope which is being swung by two little girls. The two girls proceed to wrap the boys up with the rope so as to take control of some deli sandwiches. The boys are tied up like mummies and have dopey looking “gosh they fooled us again” grins on their faces as the girls hold up their prize Hills Farm sandwiches. “Go meat!” Go meat? Go pull down your panties and squat on the bowl you pansy- assed little twits! What the hell are you doing jumping rope in the first place? DAMN! These kids are going to grow up afraid to look for pie in their own refrigerators!
TV Commercials just make us look stupid.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Peoples of the world communicate in hundreds of different languages. There are multiple systems for determining weights and measures. Hundreds of religions worship God or Gods in hundreds of ways. With all the different races, creeds and cultures in this world, how did everyone manage to decide on one way to keep time?
OK, a year is a given. One lap around the sun; it makes sense. A month makes sense; a lunar lap around the earth.
Where does the hour come from? Why 24 hours a day, 60 minutes to an hour, 60 seconds to a minute? Why not 100 seconds to a minute, 100 minutes to an hour, and 10 hours to a day. Come on, you could stretch a second to make it work. While you’re at it, why not stretch that second enough to make it 365 days to a year every year, and 30 days to every month. This would end the confusing February 29th thing, and eliminate the need for that stupid “30 days….” poem.
Come on guys, this isn’t rocket science!