No, Virginia, There Is No Santa Claus

Below is the never before published "private" reply to  eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon's letter to The (New York) Sun asking if there was indeed such a person as Santa Claus.  This private reply was written by the paper's editor, Francis Pharcellus Church, and hand delivered to Virginia by courier shortly after the "cleaned up" version was published on 21 September 1897.

Francis Pharcellus Churd hand delivered by courier on behalf of the paper shortly after their "cleaned up" version was printed on 21 September 1897.

Virginia's beloved letter (suspected of actually being written by her father -- who is oft-times regarded as the "Founder of the 'Viral Video' of His Day") is known far and wide as one of the most heartfelt and touching dialogues ever printed -- predating "Dear Abby" and paving the way for the popular "Question and Answer" segments featured in countless newspapers and magazines, world-wide.  

This never before disclosed discourse is as follows:

Dear Editor—

I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West Ninety Fifth Street

No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus.

Forgive me for being so blunt, but...the fact of the matter is -- there is no Santa Claus.  Your "little friends" are right; your parents have misguided you...and you trusted them.  This parent/child bond is now forever broken and, sadly, one day you will probably need therapy.  And when I say "one day", I mean...you will need years and years of weekly therapy by a trained psychoanalyst, at the unheard of fee of $30.00 per session to rid you of your trust issues. 

Honestly, from this point onward, you will look back and wonder -- while you are lazily gazing out of your classroom's window, years from now -- when you are lying, spent, on your back looking up at the ceiling after a lover's encounter, or tomorrow -- when you are in bed, head under the covers, trying to fall asleep...those thoughts will creep into your mind and you will undoubtedly have flashbacks of various things your parents have assured you about over the years. 

Things such as: 

"Am I really an only child?" 

"The Easter Bunny - another sham to make me behave?" 

"Did my pet goldfish really safely swim out of his bowl to the East River to be reunited with his family that one day when I went to grandma's for tea?" 

"Are there really no monsters under my bed, especially now, because I'm lying wide awake in my bed for hours on end, and...for some inexplicable reason my father and mother always close the door after they shun my requests for a kiss 'goodnight' -- and, would they even hear my muffled cries for help if a monster got me?"

Absolute poppycock and pure hogwash, Virginia!  In fact...chances are that's not even your REAL name.  By that I mean -- yes, it's your name now...but, before you were adopted (and by this abject refusal of affection your "parents" deny you, chances are good you aren't even remotely related to them...or perhaps you are the bastard child of that aunt they never speak of) it was probably something else.  But, it might have been Elsie or Gertrude, so consider yourself lucky, in a way.

Lastly, there are probably no monsters under your bed...but this made up creepy fat guy in a red suit shimmying down your chimney to gain access into your house just to poke around in your sock drawer because he has a stocking fetish...well, let's just say the monsters are the least of your worries, my dear!

In closing, I wish you the best of luck with the rest of your life, trudging onward from this point, being hounded by the press and taunted by your so-called "little friends" up until the day you die -- as I'm going to publish your full name and address in our paper, haha!

Or as "Santa" would say (if he existed, but my dear delusional child...rest assured, as best you can in your bed, late at night -- the very same bed without the monster under it -- he certainly does not) -- "Ho! Ho! Ho!"

-- Regards, F. P. Church, Editor

Stuffing vs Dressing

The following is an homage to Facebook quizzes and the age-old "Stuffing vs Dressing" debate.  I hope you enjoy it as much as your tryptophan high.


Which Thanksgiving side dish are you?

You are stuffing. That's right, you are stuffing, not dressing. Dressing is what you pour on a salad and it has flavours like "Blue Cheese" and "Thousand Island". Have you ever eaten Thousand Island dressing inside a turkey? It's not good. It's hideous. That's why you probably won't find one recipe for it online, unless it was written by your drunk, gun-wielding uncle whose name was Bob. Everyone used to have a drunk uncle named Bob...until that commercial for erectile dysfunction came out and everyone laughed at "Smiling Bob" as he was doing things like getting "a new swing on life" with his golf-loving lady friends and had a smirk on his face that made Bruce Willis' look like he was sucking on a lemon...a lemon which used to be sucked on by Rene Zellweger (with her cute scrunchy visage) until she got her face all whack by "not having" plastic surgery.

Lemon, by the way, you can shove up a turkey's butt and is tasty, but Lemon Joy dishwashing detergent, not so much. Remember that time in the mid-1970s where you actually tasted that strawberry "Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific" shampoo? It was friggen awful! That's why you don't see Lemon Pledge commercials anymore as people were probably inadvertently huffing it and dying. Thanks a lot, Lemon Pledge, as now I have that song, "Lemon Pledge, very pretty, put the shine down lemon good..." stuck in my head. Face it...she was inhaling WAY too much of this product to be that happy whilst dusting.

And, if your friends give you any grief over calling it stuffing...well, tell them to shove it! Shove it where the sun don't shine because no one uses Lemon Pledge anymore!

Remembering Robin

One year ago I was sitting on my butt on an ugly sofa in a pretty nice apartment feeling sorry for myself. If you don't know the story -- here it is in a nutshell: A tree fell on my house a little over a year ago - the end of June in 2014. It barely missed my son as he sat in front of his computer in his bedroom. You really don't want to have a tree fall on your house -- the impact is something you will never forget and the fright which I felt -- not knowing where to go or what to do...well, is something I would not want to have anyone feel. The sofa and apartment, all all other amenities save for clothing and personal belongings was provided to my son, my daughter, and myself through my insurance company. They let you "have" stuff until you move back into your house. In my case it took nearly a year -- a divorce and a re-divorce (yes, there is such a thing), no job, no parents (or relatives to speak of other than my children), a contractor issue, and kitties in a boarding place...really gets old after awhile and gets to be quite depressing. Really depressing.

But not as depressing as the news of the day - which was Robin Williams' death

I remember the first time I saw Robin -- it was on some "Evening at the Improv" or some such show which aired really late on television on the weekend. You know the kind -- they had about five comics coming on, each doing their bit -- and, if you're lucky, you laugh. Comedians were a mainstay on "The Carson Show" and "Letterman" back in the day, and, back in the day, they had three channels and you waited all weekend for things like cartoons and comedy shows. They didn't have cable - they didn't have cussing -- and they didn't have overly sensitive politically correct comedians coming on and trying in vain to entertain you.

Anyway, this was a hair's breadth away from seeing Robin (and, yes, who wasn't on a first-name basis with the man) make his "Happy Days" debut and then get catapulted into TV sitcom fame with "Mork and Mindy". A couple people came on beforehand and then Robin hit the stage...and he hit it like a bolt of lightning.

Out of the blue this guy came on and television was never the same.

Now there were stand-up comedians before and after...but not with the (again with the) lightning wit of Robin (in my opinion). Whenever Robin was on a talk show, you knew you were in for a treat. Some people seemed to never "get" him and others just couldn't get enough OF him. I fell into the latter category.

So, naturally, when the news broke...I broke down into tears. I'm in tears typing this. What a sad, sad day in history...but...let's put aside the sadness and also the rules of this group...and please share some of your fondest memories of the wonderful, irreplaceable Robin Williams, below.

 

(The spacing is odd again...I wanted it to use the justified way, but, it reverted back to this and I can't change it up again.  One day I will go on over to Wordpress.  Does anyone know Wordpress well enough to talk me through a set-up?")

Five Tips for Approaching Men in Real Life -- My Version

So, I'm sitting here minding my own business on Facebook a few minutes ago...when this story popped up on my Facefeed...so, naturally, I decided to make fun of it.  I don't know how things like this get published and I certainly hope they got paid what I thought it was worth to write it. Seriously...people get actual real money for this drivel?  I also hope you enjoy it somewhat...and, yes, feel free to share it.  Share it on Reddit and Twitter and hashtag sites and MomMe and every other damn website that could possibly start paying me to write content for them.  Whatever that Grumpy Cat person did?  Do that.  Do that a lot for me.  Yes, I'm dead serious. 

I think you have to read their article first and then mine for it to make any real sense...so...just skip down first and then scroll back up when you've read it and then read mine.  This was written by Lisa Copeland...who, I'm thinking, is a self-professed "Dating Coach for Women Over 50".  Yes, it actually says that in the blog...so I'm giving her full credit for it.

Okay, let me get this straight here...but...let me straighten you out here...these are my five "new and improved" tips for approaching men in real life...

Make eye contact with him for a full five seconds. Hold his face steady for all five of the seconds...and employ one or both hands to do so.

I have to ask him a question...such as..."Hey, there are 17 other empty chairs in this Starbucks - at six other tables...but, I like this one the best because the sun is in my vernal biological equinox...do you mind if I sit here and stare at you a while?" Or, perhaps..."I'm thinking of getting a blue Mercedes likes yours parked outside...would you recommend it? Oh, you're not the guy with the blue Mercedes? Okay...um...well...um...the Earth's orbital rotation just shifted a bit...I'm going to have to ask if that other guy over there's chair is taken...sorry."

Let him answer a question you have for him...such as, "Um...is that your blue Mercedes in the parking lot with the out of state plates? Are you interested in picking up someone from their house for dinner with you in your blue Mercedes with the out of state plates?"

Take a cue from an old "I Love Lucy" show - and shove as many chocolate bon-bons into your mouth as you can at one time...sorta like Lucy and Ethel did in the "Candy Making" episode. Trust me...I'm sure you'll get his attention with this one a LOT better than dropping some cheap cell phone you just picked up at the Dollar Store for the sole purpose of dropping and shattering in front of him.

Lastly...and I quote from her article and not mine: "His job is to ask you out if he's interested in you. If he's not, it doesn't mean he's personally rejecting you. He might be married, have a girlfriend or you might not be his type." Hmmmm...I'm thinking "...might not be his type" is possibly "dating tips for women over 50" code for "he's gay"...but, apparently they couldn't come right out and say that because...apparently we are still dropping handkerchiefs as fast as instilling old Victorian sexual mores on clichéd dating tips websites.


This was fun...maybe we can do it again some day.

5 Tips for Approaching Men in Real Life


Mariann Simms aka Mariann Eperjesi is a freelance writer who is currently writing whatever she can to get noticed by anyone who will employ her for doing so.  She can be found most nights totally perplexed by what she reads online...and can be found at her blog, "Blogged Down at the Moment".  She is the founder of the interactive comedy website, "HumorMeOnline.com" although it is currently off-line at the moment, but can be found if you use a search engine.  She is also the 2003 Grand Prize winner of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.



I also apologize for nicking a photo off the Internet. As soon as I get my stuff back in the house (a tree fell on my house the end of June and we aren't back in there yet)...I will start taking my own photos again.  If you are the owner of this photo and I have infringed on any copyright you may have on it and have an issue, please just inform me and I will remove it promptly.  Thank you.

I Don't Love Lucy

 

I had some fun tonight.  I don't know how many of you saw the article online which was petitioning the town Lucille Ball grew up in to have a "likeness" of her removed.  It is a bronze sculpture of the beloved "I Love Lucy" star who seems to be holding what looks to be a fifth of gin and a spoon to ladle it down with.  While that line is [sort of] from "My Fair Lady"...the statue certainly is not a fair lady by any means.

I realize it probably is Lucy from one of her iconic episodes in which she shows up at Ricky's show after she schemes her way into the good graces of the station manager in order to do a live, on-air commercial for "Vitameatavegamin" - a tonic which will "pep you up" - but is mostly alcohol.  It's quite a riotous display of her comedic tongue-twisting ability.  Ability is something which this sculptor, Dave Poulin, seems highly lacking.

Please don't get me wrong...I can't even draw a proper stick figure and all my "saw-blade" Christmas trees I'd been forced to make out of construction paper, paste, and glitter each year in grade school for my parents could never look the same on both sides.  I am not, and never will be...artistic.  But...I can tell crap when I see it.  I saw a lot of it just a few minutes ago.

Out of sheer curiosity, I looked up this guy...as the article did say the man responsible for starting the brouhaha over the statue, stated he "didn't want to disparage the artist's entire body of work, saying Poulin has other works that are quite good, but this one needs to go."  So, I Google'd.  I figured there must be some mistake...like maybe the bronze mold blew a gasket or something...or, more than likely, someone made up an April Fool's Day thing and it took a couple days to get going.

It wasn't.

Click after click on his "Dave Poulin Sculptor" website -- I was more mortified than the last.  I decided I would start naming each one - and while I was copy/pasting each photo to my Facebook account, I titled each one.  One of my friends asked me to make a blog with all of them in one fell swoop, and I am duly obliging.  I honestly was laughing at some of my titles...which is rare for me to do.  I don't sit around maniacally laughing at my own stuff as some people probably think I do.  I do it rarely.  I laughed a few times with these...and, with any luck, you will, too.  (I hope Mr. Poulin has a sense of humour.)

I'm just going to copy/paste my stuff over from my Facebook page without cleaning it up or editing it...so you can see the spontaneity.  I was churning thee out like a madman...or madwoman, as the case may be.  (Please click on each image to view it larger and in all its glory...cough, cough.)

I call this one "Boo!" Scary monster child frightens woman to death. This is done by the same guy who did that horrid Lucille Ball sculpture that her town is trying to get removed.

 I call this one "Attack of the Zombie Soldier"...

I call this one "Zombie Guy":

I call this one..."Help! My head's on backwards!"

 I call this one..."Stretch Armstrong" (you have to be old like me to remember the toy)...

 The side of the one above - which I now call "Terror in Central Park"...

 I call this one..."Shoulda drowned"...

I call this one "Your Number's Up". Hopefully this "artist's" number is up, too. Seriously - these are horrible.

  
ROFL - I thought that was her foot without a shoe for a minute there. Whew! I think it's just leaves. So I shall call this one, "In the book it says...206 bones in the human body and the sculptor didn't give me one of them"...

Geez - they keep on coming - I swear to God - they don't end. This guy must not sleep!

This one I call "Don't Ask, Don't Tell Where the Hell You Saw It...'Cause I Ain't Going There To See It!"

(My friend said this - I swear I was having a dialogue with another human being - I just don't talk to myself randomly on Facebook -- you know, not that much.  She said:  Well if you make a post please tag me in it! I've got to drag myself to bed but I will share as soon as I get up lol)

Calling this one: "Thank God I don't See the Front of This"...

I call this one..."Is that a goat-dog hybrid? Seriously...WTF IS that he's dragging?"

I call this one, "Shit...I looked at the Solar Eclipse!"

This one? "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Horror Park -- A Tale Too Frightening for Mark Twain to Ever Write"...

This one I call..."Dude...Get Back...I Think I Just Shit a Turtle!"...

 This one...I call..."Whoa...a Magic Bong!"

(I showed this to my son after this exchange and he said I labeled too many as "zombies" -- but I'm thinking this guy could sell a lot of  these things in a niche market looking for zombie statuary.  Seriously...people buy a lot of zombie stuff.)

This one is..."Zombie With Shovel"...

This one looks quite good...I call it "Got Someone Else To Sculpt It For Me"...

Last one. I call this one: "Village of the Damned" (If you saw the film you will understand.)...

Well, there you have it.  That was my "Facebook Entertainment" for tonite.

Sorry about the formatting...for some odd reason it kept disappearing things when I reformatted and went back to centering and spacing issues and all sorts of things.  Due to the high number of photos I copied/pasted and all the Facebook stuff I copy/pasted, I'm not going to risk it.  I'll try to clean it up in a new blog...but I'll have to go into the source HTML code and sometimes that's just really a pain.  I might just center everything and call it a day.  (I had wine and haven't slept yet - so, technically this is still my nite.)


Here's a link to the original story:  I Love Lucy Statue

Dam It, Already!

The Colorado Dam Commission (CDC) has instituted an amendment to ban the use of the word "dam" at all of its structures.  This applies also to the use of the words in all of its brochures, signs, and websites.

The case "Somerset Vs. the State of Colorado" has set a legal precedent, which, if passed, will open the floodgates to the term "dam" being stricken from all U.S. river landmarks.

Georgina Somerset said she was upset over the recent expulsion of her six-year-old daughter, Regina, from school after using the word "dam" repeatedly.  The Colorado school district of Boulder has a strict "no curse" policy.  When her daughter recently went on a family trip during Spring break, she had seen 13 of the 14 dams in Colorado.

"It was a learning experience for us all." stated Mrs. Somerset, whose family embarked on the trip traversing about 750 miles in total.  "We saw nearly every single one, and during the trip we all sang a song about dams that my husband, Tim, made up to keep the kids entertained.  Tim's always making up songs when we go places and we all sing them.  We sang, 'Fourteen dams in Colorado, fourteen dams on our trip...pass one by and what do you get?  Thirteen dams in Colorado'."  It was sung to the tune of 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall'.  We had hoped to see them all, but car trouble cut short our trip to the last one."

When little Regina returned to school on Monday, she was singing the song during art class, coloring away, when the teacher told her it was wrong to say that word.  First grade teacher, Ms. Lazenby, said, "I didn't think much of it, in fact, I kinda stifled a laugh.  But I quietly told her not to say that word and I thought that was the end of it."

But it was not.  Three of her classmates, who were not identified because of their age, told their parents, who promptly made calls to the Boulder Colorado Board of Education demanding that six-year-old Regina be suspended from school pending further notice.

Boulder Colorado School Superintendent, Miles Ramey stated, "We had no choice.  We have a strict "no cursing" policy in our school district and we had to adhere to it.  Because Regina repeatedly mentioned the word 'dam' we had to count each time as an offense and our only recourse was expulsion.  It is of no consequence that she meant the word 'dam' and not 'damn'.  We have no proof the parents made up this song on the trip.  They could just be fabricating this after the fact.  Regina used the word 'dam' or 'damn' and we can't make an exception for one child and penalize another -- we have to adhere to the same rule for all."

Regina's parents, Georgina and Timothy Somerset, have filed a petition against the state of Colorado to change the word so they can have their daughter reinstated in school and have it removed from her record.  Their attorney, Aaron Greenburg, stated, "We have filed a motion for the state of Colorado to rescind the use of the word 'dam' and change it to another word which is not easily mistaken for a curse word.  Some words on our suggested list are 'dorge' (a combination of 'dam' and 'gorge') and 'rivam', (a combination of the words 'river' and 'dam').  I am confident this law will pass.  I remember getting my mouth washed out with soap on quite a few occasions when I said the word 'dam' as well.  I think we all remember such things and the backing of people on Georgina's Facebook page, 'Dam it already!' has had over 130,000 'likes'."

As for little Regina, she just remembers the trip was fun.  "It was fun.  My brothers got to pee-pee off the side of each dam, but Mommy and me had to go behind the car.  It wasn't fair."

Yes, things are not always fair, Regina.  You certainly know that for certain now.

Cadbury Creme Peeps

Reuters: Cadbury Chocolates has teamed with Peeps, the marshmallow confectionery company best known for its Easter chick and bunny treats, to make a chocolate covered Peep which has a runny creme "egg" center.

The British chocolatier, which outraged U.S. fans from coast to coast,, was recently bought out by Kraft from Hershey's, which promptly changed the recipe to one of a less "desired" consistency...removing the fat content, and all the flavour.  The U.S. public was "not amused" by this and the ban of importing the British version was met with harsh disapproval.

But now it all seems that this is water under the bridge, or across the pond, as the case may be, and the British Cadbury company has, for a limited time only, been allowed to sell the prohibited pieces which have been fetching a cost-prohibitive amount as soon as they hit the shelves.

"We've not seen anything like this." Terrence Howard of Cadbury U.K. has stated, "It's like someone invented a Cadbury 'Cabbage Patch Elmo' . I've seen the 6-packs of them being sold at online auction sites for well over £ 25 each (that's $37.00 in U.S. dollars) and the demand just keeps increasing." 

So, check your Easter baskets, as the bunny which hid those eggs, might have laid some golden ones inside instead.

March Is Like...Other Things, Too

In America, we have the saying "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb". In other places, it can get a bit...well, different. Here are some others:

Greece: March comes in like a lamb and goes out like a gyro.

Scandinavia: March comes in sometime around April.

Poland: March is like a polka...it's much better when you are just drunk the whole way through it.

North Korea: March...it's what we do best...especially in parades to honour our Dear Leader.

Russia: March is like Kremlin when it comes in and goes out with KGB never to be seen again.

Italy: March comes inna like-a Mario anna goes outta like a faster Mario, wassa matter you no know this, eh? (There are also several hand gestures that go along with it...but since we don't have video...you have to just imagine.)

France: March comes in like a hamster and then comes back to taunt you a second time.

Scotland: March comes in like a sheep...and is lucky to get back out.

New Zealand: March comes in like Peter Jackson filming "Lord of the Rings" and goes out leaving all this shit for us to clean up after him.

Norway: March comes in like that salted licorice and goes out like a herring.

Canada: March comes in and stays in...it's cold here, dammit! We're near the Arctic, ay?

Columbia: March comes in like a drug lord and goes out like a shipment of cocaine.

Ireland: March comes in with green beer and goes out like green pee.

Oprah Winfrey's House: March comes in with Gayle...yet continues to go out with Stedman.