Josey Wales spitting highlights
So, I watched “The Outlaw Josey Wales” last week for the first time in decades and it occurred to me at once that all the problems in my life could be solved if I just spit more. A great advocate of spitting, was Josey Wales. Dog growling at you? Spit on the mutt. Salesman being too pushy? Spit tobacky juice on that clean white shirt. Scorpion about to attack? Drown the critter in thick brown muck. Mr. J. Wales solved nearly all of his problems with spittle and sometimes he spit just for the drama of it. Clearly, I need to spit more, but since I don’t chew tobacco, I figure I’ll just have to cram a bunch of Hubba Bubba in my mouth and work with that. This is going to be a fun summer.

PS
“The Bridges of Madison County” absolutely does NOT count as a Clint Eastwood movie so just you cut that out. The dude doesn’t spit a single time the whole movie! I think Meryl Streep might have drooled a little, but that’s hardly the same thing.

The annual Fourth of July summer panic
So, the Fourth is behind us. Know what’s next? Back to school sales. Leaf peeping. Halloween decorations. Thanksgiving, Christmas and the slow, frigid death of all good things. Morose? Overly dramatic? A real downer? You just wait. Due to some cosmic mishap, possibly related to the super collider over there in Switzerland, the days go by three times as fast as normal in the period following Independence Day. I could show you proof but it’s all very scientific and you wouldn’t understand. *spit*

Who? Who??
Whatever you do, don’t buy one of those plastic, motion-activated owls from Family Dollar. That thing will drive you nuts with its incessant hooting every time you so much as twitch. After a while, the hooting starts to sound like criticism, as though an overbearing wife or nagging editor is hanging out just over your shoulder. I tried to get rid of mine by chucking it into the canal, but when I got home, there it was, hooting from the kitchen sideboard again. Very strange. I blame CERN for this, too.

Beguilement and identity theft rampant in Theater at Monmouth’s production of Moliere’s ‘Amphitryon’
I have no critique of this here play. I just like the title a lot. Makes me want to throw on my toga and spit grape seeds all over the place.

Gliders on the storm
So, I love my motorcycle and everything, but lately I’ve been seeing more kids out there on those new fangled hoverboards. Everywhere they go, it looks like they’re gliding on air and brothers, that’s just good fun. I’m thinking I’ll get one and prowl the downtown on it once in a while. A’gliding and a’spitting, how cool will THAT look? Why, I can hardly wait for me first concussion.

« Previous

Mark LaFlamme: Oh, nuts! Oozing garbage and pickpocket chipmunks

Next »

Mark LaFlamme: Behold the power of cheese