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January 2020

Our New Year’s resolution is to stop drinking...

...And never take resolutions seriously! ...And stop whining and lose weight...



LUNCH & BAKE SALE Thursday, January 30th 8 AM – 6 PM 2020 or until sold out

Temple Beth El • 1212 Riker Street at Blanco Road • Salinas • 831.424.9151



Pickup in Monterey or Carmel Valley with advance purchase.

Tickets available in advance, online, or at the door. Free delivery in Salinas with pre-paid order of 15 or more sandwiches. Pickup and delivery orders must be paid by 5pm Tuesday, January 28th.


What the Bleep is Foolish Times? Foolish Times is a free monthly tabloid publishing the best humor we can find (some months we search harder than others). The opinions or ideas expressed by contributors are not necessarily those of Foolish Times, its owner, advertisers, or associates, or their extended families, or their friends or neighbors, or their associated pen pals, up to and including cockatiels. All articles, graphics, photographs, and what-not (especially the what-not) are copyrighted by the so-called”writers” and”artists” who contribute them. Foolish Times uses invented names in all its stories, except in cases where public figures are being satirized. Any other use of real names is accidental and coincidental.

Advertisers For rate information, email or call 831.648.1038 For rat information, call your exterminator

List of Fools Chucklehead................................Stevie P. Editor at Large..................................Javlis Art Fool...............................Mama Morgan Social Media Fool.............................Jordo Web Fool..........................................Zachy Sales Fool.....................................Michael

The Chucklehead Speaks A new year, a new decade. Can you believe it? It’s a marvelous feeling to be alive. Resolutions anyone? Last year I gave up coffee. That’s right, for a whole year I didn’t drink coffee. Some of you may be telling yourself that that’s too hard and could never do it. To me, it proves that a year is a very short amount of time and you really can do anything you want if you really tried. Exercise for me is a different story. I’m in pretty good shape for a guy who pecks funny thoughts on a keyboard all day. I used to run but gave it up when I found out no one was chasing me anymore. I know people who run all the time trying to attain the ‘runner’s high’. It takes several miles to get there. I can smoke and drink and get the same feeling from a flight of steps.

I go to the gym a few mornings every week to get my day going. I like lifting weights and I love to be in the pool. I try to schedule my pool time before the water aerobics class which is really just an opportunity for old ladies to splash around. All the other times, people are swimming laps. The other day, I wanted to end my workout by jumping in the pool. Some hyped up guy jumped in after me and asked how long I was going to use the lane. I told him, “Until my bladder is empty”. Instead of coming up with unrealistic resolutions for the new year, how about making small changes in your life. Kindness and controlling your emotions toward others should be attainable. Another attainable change would be your socks.

Stevie P. /


Tony Albano, Bini, Charles Birimisa, Roger Freed, Ted Gargiulo, Jann Gargiulo, Debbie Harris, Michael Houston, Daria James, Robyn Justo, Rex Keyes Dana Larabee, Peter Mehren, Nancy Pyzel, Jay Russell, Gilly Spangler, Mary Tompsett


Andre Adams, Will Bullas, Max Cannon, Roger Freed, Chris Myers, Chuck Scardina, David Schmidt, Monte Truitt

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FAST FOOD If food were fast, we would all be running after it.

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SEAFOOD I See Food, I Eat it! If you don’t find something that was swimming in the sea on a menu in Monterey County, you’re probably still in Kansas, Dorothy.

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Monterey County is home to awardwinning wine. You can’t go wrong with anything from our region. Enjoy a bottle while reading the rest of the paper. Cheers!

Voted best restaurant in Salinas. The Bozzo family has been at it since 1975—This place is worth its weight in alfredo sauce. 1410 S Main St, Salinas 831.422.1814

Alberto’s Restorante Chef to the stars offers fine classic Italian cuisine in an intimate setting. Celebrating 19 years in PG. Dine in, take out. Holiday party reservations. 1219 Forrest Ave, Pacific Grove 831.373.3993

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By Daria James

Let me entertain you! Throughout the history of entertainers, many of the very successful acts have been called eccentrics, geniuses in the matter, rule breakers, boundary pushers, risk takers, trend setters and other fancy terms for weird and ridiculous, which is what I get called because I’m not famous enough. Hey! I am known here and there, and not the topic of discussion at the moment. We can focus on me at a later time. I love it when we focus on me.

We are polarizing everything and more performers are walking on eggshells. If comedy is restricted who will speak the truth? Pete Davidson made the audience sign a million-dollar nondisclosure agreement before his show in the Bay Area. Performers such as Dave Chappelle, the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s and Madonna are known for imposing restrictions before their shows. Under Davidson’s NDA, the audience members were not allowed to record or share on social media while the show is ongoing, ok, that is fair. However, it went as far as to prohibiting the audience to discuss the show with others and up to a million dollar fine. Well, F@#% that guy! 1. He is nowhere near the comedy caliber of Dave Chappelle or performance altitude of Madonna. I have seen Davidson’s show and I was not entertained. He was unfunny and

mind numbing. He talked about themes such as smoking pot, masturbating, and Doritos. Wow, groundbreaking much thought provoking, so comedic. He said that special was when he was twenty-two. Now at twenty-five, he is getting ready to release a more “mature” special. Right! He is a self-proclaimed good guy who has bad luck with women. In my experience, any man who calls themselves a “good guy” is not quite any of that. Red flag, ladies. 2. Perhaps he should build a respectable comedy repertoire before jumping on Madonna-like demands. 3. Why should the audience not be able to share an opinion about a show afterwards? I’m sorry, I thought this was America. If you do not want others to share and talk about what they saw, maybe do not be a public figure and charge people to entertain them. I’m not sure if any of his SNL mentors or sober buddies has broken the news to him, but it comes with the territory. Just ask Dave Chappelle, he finds himself defending his points of view and comedy more often than others. Then again, both Dave and Pete are in two different leagues, playing different sports. I watched The Dirt on Netflix and he was in a few scenes. Does he expect an Oscar for his performance? He had a show in Florida and called the audience member “entitled a##holes” because they were not giving him their undivided attention after he flew all the way to entertain them. Newsflash: if the entertainer is doing their job, the audience will

not need to look at their phone. We could blame his audacious move on his youth. He is a twenty-five year-old white male, what has he overcome? I do not know of the one big thing that affected his life. People from all backgrounds have lost loved ones. Those are straining times; it makes us human; it does not increase our comedy skills or makes our jokes funnier. Furthermore, he has appeared in Weekend Update to share his opinion on many subjects, but he wants his act to be off-limits? If so, he should stop attracting attention to himself, like, maybe propose to attention and it will break up with him. Some argue that once they have met him they understand why he is so likeable, and why all the interest on him and how he is a very caring guy. Ok, well, I care about having the freedom to express my opinions regarding any subject and the reasons I like or dislike it. He should come down from that cloud he positioned himself on, and join us in the real world. Then he can take himself back to rehab, because those delusions of grandeur are something to be concerned about. Now, you are probably thinking who put me in charge of all things funny? The answer is me, I am in charge of the things I find funny.

If others agree that is fine. If they do not, that is also fine. We are polarizing everything and more performers are walking on eggshells. If comedy is restricted who will speak the truth? On a similar note, if we restrict the audience from expressing their opinion, the America we are becoming is not a fun one. This direction I’m thinking of right now is called China, or was it Russia. No wait, I am thinking of North Korea. I have never liked the comedy of Louis C.K., so I never went to his shows, or went on his social media to say terrible things about him. I thought that was the normal thing to do. Just live and let laugh. It’s a new year. Be a better version of you.

Don’t let the sands of time get in your eyes

My decision making skills closely resemble those of a squirrel crossing the road.


By Bini Aries: (Mar 21–Apr 19) The Ram

where all stars and GEMS shine humbly in their glory as one.

Libra: (Sep 23–Oct 22) The Scales

A junkyard of hormones! At the stroke of midnight your integrity may crack into a mosaic rigamarole. Your sideways functions require forward development. In other words “balance” is being questioned. You are an emotional intersection, even your car alarm plays Auld Lang Syne all year round? Refine your chemical core and mimic twilight as it distills what lies in-between the cracks.

A toast to World Paint! Not always easy on the eyes and yet gritty graffiti has its face in society. You want to recast the world to your standards. You certainly paint a pretty picture. If only reality were silly putty. There is hope, the steam coming from your permafrost layers is melting the glaciers of your icy blue sharpness and evolving into sapphires of reflection. Footnote: Graffiti derived from the Italian Graffito definition is: Scratch me a new arse whole.

Taurus: (Apr 20–May 20) The Bull

Leo: (Jul 23–Aug 22) The Lion

Scorpio: (Oct 23 –Nov 21) The Scorpion

Idol Chatter has brought you to the bleachers instead of the bull ring. You can cheer at fame, but you’re not in the action. An idol worship, a Paris Hilton of sorts, an edifice of empty space distorting the truth of success has distracted you from dodging the arrow! Funny that, you were sitting this one out. You only got a booboo this time. Take the bull by the horns and snort your way into the arena. You can keep the rose clenched between your teeth for some Glam!

Royal Poverty! The Kingy and Queeny thing is a bit outdated. Fed up with running the kingdom? Everyone needs a little help. You demand forthrightly that the populace ought to think for themselves! You even called for the Wizard of Ought, but she was out. You could easily lead this movement. Start small by spraying your territory to keep the castle grounds your own. Then join a chamber orchestra and start banging that bass drum!

This New Year write or be in a Shakespearean Sex Comedy! You are so driven, ride with excitement, the streamers and the sparklers that appear in your mysterious atmosphere. The Lightness of Being can also be obscene…Lose the headgear.

This Culture of Unavailability is really BUSY gettin’ your Goat! Or RAM! Spinning your passionate ideas like a pinwheel in a tornado, is how you get the job done. But, when the team doesn’t show up and the wind blows a whining call, you are delayed and alone. Wear a Tuxedo in Antartica and huddle with the masses that live for each other. Listen carefully because these folks know how efficient the swaying motion compared to a static walk is. A New Year white out.

Gemini: (May 21–Jun 20) The Twins

All the World’s the Weather! What does that mean? Cause and effect. Detect and eject all negativity, past or present. Whatever you focus on grows like lichen. Especially when it feels as though you are confetti on the rubber soul of a giant wall of woes. May sound bleak, t’is not, t’is neat, t’is clear as the starry night of winter,

Cancer: (Jun 21–Jul 22) The Crab

Virgo: (Aug 23–Sep 22) The Virgin

A divine drive-thru! A thoroughfare of hugs. No clean wipes for you. This is the medicine needed to let go of your old “cooties” issue. Don’t grab a tissue.! You don’t always have to be the straight man. Let your belly be full of laughs, and stick your neck out like a Giraffe in the new year.

Sagittarius: (Nov 22–Dec 21) The Archer

People really like your sense of humor! You’re acceptance speech was really upbeat even with the subject being about an extinct escargot species. I bet you can make E=mc2 feel and sound like Times Square! Your mass energy equivalent is buoyant enough to drop the ball and celebrate a new beginning all at the stroke of 12/2016 squared. Capricorn: (Dec 22– Jan 19) The Goat

Happy tortes on your birthday cavorts! Storms of the past have passed and you are agile with

wings on heels. Still, in your most civilized personality mode, your undercurrent of turbulence is felt. So speak up in the moment that way you won’t blurt a bunch of blah and bleh and get your panties all in a wreck! FATHER Time is on your side, now glide. Aquarius: (Jan 23–Feb 18) The Water-Carrier

A beaming humanitarian intended to keep on smiling through humanity’s endless faux-pas. Have you succumb to Botox in order to maintain such a beguiling simper? This would certainly be a Trashedy! Your progressive thinking could scarcely reinvent muscle memory of this caliber. Just think of all the trials of redemption imbedded in your skin’s history! I know you deplore repetitive details, so get a secretary. Pisces: (Feb 19–Mar 20) The Fishes

In this New Year aligning with your porpoise is essential. The gravitational pull is from this new found confidence. Congratulate your intensive reflective work on self. (If the other signs would reflect it would be quite a nice gift, but don’t hold your gills.) Einstein, your fellow fishy, he too was an outcast at first. You will be dancing all through the countdown. General theory is you’re an in a hot state and it’s going to be a Big Bang YEAR! *All Italicized titles belong to Bini’s (Laura Sottile) Short Stories


By Debbie Harris


I think every home has them. Gremlins. They live in the building structure, the appliances, the furniture, and anywhere else they can sneak in. There are the standards—a creaky floor is one. My house has creaky spots and so does the office building I work in. Do contractors put the creaky floor gremlins in during construction or do they arrive later? Another standard gremlin is the need to “jiggle the handle.” Since I live in a drought state and the sound of unnecessary running water makes me crazy, I have this repaired quickly. Another common gremlin is the smoke/ CO2 alarm “bleep, bleep” of a low battery, which is federally mandated to occur in the middle of the night, preferably when there are guests in the house. When I got solar panels, I had to increase my smoke alarms and add an equal amount of CO2 alarms. Oh, the “bleep, bleep” possibilities! When my aunt and cousin were visiting, the smoke alarm in my bedroom “bleeped” in the middle of the night. Not happy about being woken up this way and not wanting my guests disturbed, I got up quickly, stood on the bed, grabbed the unit off the ceiling, took out the battery, and tossed the unit into the next room. Really gremlin? My brother experienced the “bleep, bleep” in the middle of the night in my guest room when he stayed over. He told me about it the next day, so I changed the battery and put it back in its place. It continued to “bleep, bleep” through the next night,

indicating a malfunctioning unit and a sleep-deprived brother. Damn gremlin. One gremlin that has come up a few times for me has been the touchy lamp gremlin. The lamp will only work if I twist the bulb or the knob exactly to the right spot, which is a balance between two set locations. Even then, it may turn off again. I can almost hear the gremlin’s childlike squeaky laugh as I get to the middle of a paragraph while reading and the lamp goes out. I can’t tolerate that gremlin for long.

No matter how many times we tried to turn it off, it wouldn’t go. Then there are un-standard gremlins. Sometime after the warrantee on my refrigerator expired, it developed a spontaneous internal leak on the top shelf. For months I tried to find the source or a way to tie the leak with some other circumstance that maybe I could control or change. No such luck. The fridge works fine, so until my fortunes improve, my solution is-don’t put things in the area where the water usually shows up and use a towel to absorb any water that appears. Stupid leaking gremlin! A memorable electronic gremlin from the past was when we had a TV that turned on just fine, but wouldn’t turn off when you pressed the power button on the remote or on the TV itself. No matter how many times we tried

to turn it off, it wouldn’t go. The gremlin didn’t want to go to bed. The set was in an entertainment unit, so pulling the plug to turn it off meant shimmying through a hole in the unit. That’s where having children helped. We had them do the shimmying and within a short period of time, we replaced the TV. Dumb entertainment gremlin! My current favorite gremlin is my bathroom ceiling fan light. I made the mistake of taking it apart to clean it (dust gerbils) and couldn’t put it back together. A friend did it for me—with two extra screws. Now when I flip the switch, it sounds like a Boeing 737

trying for take-off without one of its engines. The fan stopped working a few months ago and I opened it up to see if I could tell what was wrong. I couldn’t, but just giving it that attention made the engine roar again. Maybe the gremlin was lonely. Just like death and taxes, there will always be gremlins to deal with. We carry them from year to year. May all your gremlins be easy to tame. Happy New Year!

Why do I have to press “1” for English?

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When Willie Mays Came To Town

By Charles Birimisa

As a kid I idolized Willie Mays. It did not matter that I barely saw him play. At the time he was not even on my favorite team the San Francisco Giants, The “Say Hey Kid” was on the New York Mets.      An early thrill was unexpectedly getting his trading card in a pack; And Mays pictured on that card, was still in a Giants uniform, flashing the greatest smile in all sports. Getting his slurpee cup at the former 7/11 at East Lake and Tuttle Ave. also made my day. On the cup Mays smiling image was painted, this time wearing a Mets cap.      Mr. Paslay, my next door

neighbor, had got me up to speed on Willie Mays right around the time he was traded in 1972 from the Giants to the Mets. Mays was traded for cash and a player named Charlie Williams. And that made an impact, that Willie Mays, one of baseballs all-time greats, was traded for a Charlie (my name). Mr. Paslay said Mays was traded because he was getting old and his career was nearing its end. Mr. Paslay also talked about Willie Mays in the same breath as Babe Ruth. He said that either one might be regarded as the best baseball player ever.    After Willie Mays retired, I

pretty much forgot about him. A few years ago I happened on a book by Glen Dickey, a longtime San Francisco sportswriter who got his start working for Watsonville’s Register Pajaronian. One chapter in the book focused on Willie Mays.

I’m willing to bet there are still a few local baby boomer fans out there who are still steamed Willie Mays stiffed them out of an autograph.   In the Mays chapter, Dickey mentioned a 1971 Saturday Review article citing Mays brushing off kids seeking autographs and cursing sportswriters with obscenities. Dickey wrote: “When Mays hits a home run, he is doing it for himself and the team, not the fans.” Dickey then referred readers to the Saturday Review piece, and Mays quote: “(expletive deleted) the fans. They don’t know anything about what you’re trying to do.” I asked

9 myself if I would have idolized Willie Mays if I had read the Saturday review article in 1971 and Dickey’s chapter on Mays?    Then, through local Watsonville library research I happened upon a June 30, 1970 Pajaronian article which reported “Baseball star Willie Mays almost didn’t show up at Watsonville’s Banquet of Champions last night. He made it, however reluctantly though, once he arrived at the Fairgrounds he enjoyed himself. Earlier in the day Mays had called the wife of Nick Scurich, who organized the event. Mays indicated he was injured and not feeling well. Scurich, afraid Mays was pulling out called Giants owner Horace Stoneham, who tracked down Mays and flew him to Watsonville to make the banquet on time. Mays and the Giants party left early ... About a third of the youngsters at the banquet didn’t get Mays autograph ... with about 150-200 youngsters still in line waiting.” I’m willing to bet there are still a few local baby boomer fans out there who are still steamed Willie Mays stiffed them out of an autograph.      These days I do not idolize anybody. Idolizing is a kids past time. And Willie Mays is still probably the best that ever played.

Vegetarian: Ancient tribal name for the village idiot who can’t hunt, fish or light a fire.

10 Do you know how hard it is to find a decent man in this town? Most of them think monogamy is some kind of wood.

FOR SALE BY OWNER: Complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica, 45 volumes. Excellent condition. $500 or best offer. No longer needed, got married last month. Wife knows everything.

I didn’t know whether to break up with my girlfriend or take a break, so I planted weed in her purse and called the cops. Now I have 30 days to figure things out.

Eventually soul mates meet. They have the same hiding place.

There were many reasons we broke up; there was a religious difference: I’m a Catholic, and she’s the devil.

A husband and wife are watching, Who Wants To Be a Millionaire, and the husband winks and says, “Honey, let’s go upstairs.” The wife says no, so the husband asks again. Again she says no. So the husband says, “Is that your final answer?” The wife says yes. The husband says, “Well, can I phone a friend?”

Strategy is buying a good bottle of wine when you take a woman out for dinner; tactics is getting her to drink it.

A psychic asks a woman, “You came to know your husband’s future?” “No way, tell me about his past and then I’ll decide about his future.”

One day, a man came home and was greeted by his wife dressed in stunningly sexy lingerie. “Tie me up,” she purred, “And you can do anything you want.” So he tied her up and went golfing.

My wife was complaining that only women are capable of doing more than one thing at once and how unfair that was. So I told her to just shut the heck up and walk away. Yep, you guessed it. She couldn’t manage either.

A couple drives to the hospital because the wife is in labor. The doctor alerts them that she invented a machine that will transfer some of the labor pain to the father, if they’d like. The husband eagerly says, “Give it all to me!” The couple returns home with a bouncing baby boy, only to find the mailman dead on their lawn.

I like being married for two reasons. First, I was tired of dating and second, I got really tired of exercising.

My young daughter asked, “Do all fairy tales begin with ‘Once upon a time’?” “No, dear,” I replied. “Sometimes they start with ‘Darling, I’ll be working late tonight.”

I’m still going on bad dates, when by now I should be in a bad marriage.

My girlfriend and I almost didn’t have the second date because on the first date I didn’t open the car door for her… I just swam to the surface.

The difference between being in a relationship and being in prison is that in prison they let you play softball on the weekends.

You want to know how a woman will treat you after marriage, just listen to her talking to her little brother.

A panicked mother brought her son to CHOMP after she found out he swallowed a few quarters. A nurse was assigned to watch over the boy. When the doctor came to follow up he asked how the boy was doing. The nurse relayed. ‘No change.’

Buskers of the World Unite!

You Have Nothing to Lose But Your Change!

By Michael Houston Happy New Year’s yourself, eejit! Look at you now… Incoming…Look Out! There are none so blind as those who will not see. That cute bartender/hospitality worker, he/she/it (to avoid sexist labels in accordance with Foolish Times editorial policy), saw right through me. I used to worry about my looks, but now that I’m old and ugly I’m very nearly invisible until it’s time to pay the tab. Nostalgia For Life As A Gilded Sepulchre Life’s truths, like happy faces and other hippy buttons slogans, catch up with us. You can pretend that you’re Frank Sinatra and did it your way, but the longer your keep on truckin’ on your long strange trip, the sooner you realize you can’t hide behind if only this that or the other thing. Should you live so long you’ll find yourself realizing that old-age ain’t for sissies, much as you wish it were. Still, ugly things, i.e. cable and utility bills, can come in acceptable looking envelopes to those who don’t know better. Conversely, beautiful things, imaginary me, in this case, can come in decrepit forms to ignorant shallow people who work out, imbibe judiciously, hold down jobs, and get enough rest. You’ve seen them. They wander the world body-shaming and seeking the ruin and destruction of their one-time betters’ souls and self-esteem. You are far better off one of us, god help you! What have they

got that we don’t have aside from looks, money, friends, and a good personality. Time will avenge us and they’ll be as bad off as we are. Better Living Through Modern Medicine? Sort of… In some ways things got worse since I got my cataracts done. Now I can see me and it isn’t pretty! Gone is that delightful blurry post impressionist version of a face in the mirror each morning. It’s like the revenge of the teeshirt of Dorian Grey! Each morning I reflect upon a horrific humanoid collection of blotches and scraggly hair follicles. It’s as if my tee shirt of Freddy Kruger met Frankenstein’s monster in the dresser and got 3-D printed onto the front of what used to be my head! Gone are the happy years I’d spend mistaking my wrinkles and lines for signs of suave, elegant, charming, distinction whilst telling my friends to stay thirsty. Everything Happens for a Reason, as They Used to Say During the Plague I’m a much better grandparent now than I was as a lousy inept sexist pig predator. (Sure old fella, try the “They were different times” defense, and hope that no one who knew you then reads this now.) 2020 is the best year yet. I have more time to distort country western lyrics now that I can’t hear them very well to begin with. Yet lo, I hear me collaborating with Tammy Wynette, Freddy Fender, Louis Armstrong, Merle

Haggard, Etta James, and David Houston. She had soft brown eyes and tattooed lips And the curves that could tempt flipping anybody Then I looked in her eyes and I saw it. The stage show of the wedding band. I was almost persuaded, but your sweet booty Made me get up and dance -Billy Sherrill, Glenn Sutton – 1966 & me - 2020 Let Us Praise The Great Ones Thank you, First Night Monterey, for ringing in the New Year through the arts with the City of Monterey, and the volunteers. Hope you enjoyed the great performances by the Carolyn Sills Combo, Fields of Eden featuring Kiki Wow and the Wowettes, Sensory TRIBE, Rick Chelew and Elise Leavy,  Dirty Cello with Rebecca Roudman, the Charities band, MC Lars, and all the good people who all came along to play and share with you. Me, I’ll cherish my battery powered

11 flashing wand and event button forever! Thank you, Carl Jung for sharing the Common Unconscious and helping us transcend desire and alleviate suffering through meditation and fulfillment at street markets. Thank you, Ray and the Old Monterey Business Association, for giving great year-round Alvarado Street Markets to savor. Thank you, Monterey Gives, the Community Foundation, the Arts Council for Monterey County and all the artists and the people of Monterey who make the arts and empathy a greater part of our lives. Thank you Andrés, Wes, Dread, Pam, Rita, Rosa, Shawn, Joey, David, Alan, Eddie, Troy, Akai, Vlad, John Michael, Jason, Anno, and Chuckle Head, for giving us places to enjoy friends, good music, and our foolishness. Happy New Years forever!

2000-2019: Many memories No evidence

Behind every angry woman stands a man who has absolutely no idea what he did wrong.



By Peter Mehren

I will acknowledge –admit, if you will- that I have sometimes answered the phone while being sexually interactive, but almost always after the joint interpersonal goal has been achieved. I learned while quite young that “Excuse me, I have to take this. It may be important.” is not a good part of foreplay. And I never made an out-going call. Which is why I was surprised to read that a survey on smartphone use found that ten percent of respondents reported checking their phones during sex; and that among individuals aged eighteen to thirty-four, fully seventeen percent reported that they did! Of course, anyone under age of eighteen shouldn’t be having sex; and anyone, of any age, might think carefully about what they text, not to mention when. The brief report based upon the research did not say what proportion of the texters were male, which female, or which were variable. Nor did it say what proportion of the textings was initiated from the sexer, and which were responses to in-coming texts. Wordsworth wrote that “poetry is emotion recollected in tranquility.” Another truth I learned early,

as fledgling writer and, for that matter, a relative beginner at sexual activities with another person, is that it’s important to “recollect,” to remember, “in tranquility,” which is to say, later, ideally in solitude. It is very bad to say something like, “Could you hold on for a minute while I jot down this image, ‘cause my handwriting’s too shaky right now.” I got solitude almost immediately thereafter; and I not only got to write the original idea, but I was given a few other thoughts, as well as some semipoetic words to include. Intrigued by this concept, of sending and receiving texts while rolling about, I asked a few friends, of various ages about it. Surprisingly, despite their differences, they were almost identically willing to talk about their texting habits and their sexual activities. Even though I was circumlocutions with my questions about whether they’d ever done so, nearly all said that they had. One, a fellow my age, said that he’d gotten a cramp in the left hamstring, so he’d typed in a request for a quick treatment, which, to his delight, he received and was able to implement

Camping is where you spend a small fortune to live like a homeless person.

without losing much of his rhythm. “You had your phone right there?” “Yes. And she had hers ready to hand, too.” “And you could send and receive a message…?” “I can type pretty quickly with either thumb, and the screen’s big enough to be able to read easily.” Several admitted taking selfies, sometimes of themselves, their expressions, sometimes of their partner’s activities, sometimes of themself or themselves reflected in a mirror on a wall or overhead. “For your own files?” “Oh, no. I sent them to people on one of my mailing lists. And, sure, I filed the pictures, too.” A few said that they’d typed in questions about techniques: what the other person was doing and how they should react; suggested things to do, or at least try, after a person had demonstrated interest in a particular activity or area. Occasionally some would ask what some words, and sometimes what the occasional sound, meant. A few said they were putting new information on their personal blogs. More than that number said that they’d texted someone else to delay or postpone a lunch or dinner date due to an unanticipated and subsequently surprisingly prolonged hookup. Some were bragging: “You’ll never guess who I just met!” Or “whom,” when the individual was an English teacher. “Revenge porn” was also mentioned: showing an ex- how well they were doing now; or – despicably!- to store in case they’d ever need it for use against the person with whom they were at that moment being intimate.

Again, I can recall taking a few calls over the years, because there were important matters coming up. And smiling secretly when the person on the other end asked, “You busy?” “Oh, I’m just finishing something up.” My partner-de-jour might ask, “Who was that?” “Someone from the office.” Or “A client.” Or such. And a couple of times I was asked, upon hanging up, to roll over so the other person could use the phone to make a quick call. Cuddling is fine, but we all have places to be, things to do, calls to make. Still, mine and that of others pre-cellphones was always verbal, rather than visual; and serious rather than frivolous, self-indulgent, or too much sharing. Seventeen percent. That’s of the people who were surveyed and answered honestly. Assuming that the responses came from only one of the people involved in the texting, that could mean that a third of the population between age 18 and 34 were on one end or another, so to speak, of a text message; or, as some suggested, many more were on the group text, or reading the blog, or otherwise getting the information live or whenever they’d check their mail. After all, some of them may have been texting then, too, and thus temporarily incommunicado. Is modesty an affectation? Is privacy selfish? Is sharing a good thing? I still think twice before answering a phone while simply in bed with someone, not before or after and certainly not during congress, even if a young bedmate might not notice. But I’m over the age of thirty-four years old.


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By Mary Tompsett

Make My Day


Well, I did it. Last month in my Christmas cards I included a recent “glamour” photo—taken inside my colonoscopy. I added this personal greeting: May the light of the Season fill your heart, your pancreas, and all other places the sun don’t shine. Of the 23 cards I sent or gave out, responses so far are two laughs and a text: “That was funny.” From 20 people, silence. Oh, well. I had fun and those three responses are forever precious, like water in the dessert...also in the desert. Hmm. The Foolish Times readership spans Monterey County, so 12%

of a larger audience means my fan base could be at least...13 souls?! Tall folks will count as two. Makes my day. Now, instead of blathering advice this month, I’ll sling a couple of true stories. STORY ONE. From goodies piled on the break room table, I grabbed a lonely pack of Organic Seaweed Snacks loitering behind the cookies and chocolate. What a find! Arriving home, I made a typical lunch, generally resembling the pile of produce and nuts a zookeeper might shove through the slot in the orangutan cage. The healthy salted chips would be righteously groovy! But upon opening the pack, I was... what’s the word? Gobsmacked.

Picture translucent green squares thinner than spider skin with the taste of ripe pond scum, assuming you have that sensory experience in your longterm memory bank. Lucky for me, a packet of silicone, which in comparison looked like a satisfying chew, was labeled DO NOT EAT. This saved my life. Nevertheless, I ate another cellophane greenie, then two more. I had to be sure they really were barf-worthy. All in all, this made my day, and the story is brought to you by my good friends, Fantasy and Denial. STORY TWO. While waiting in a long line at the Post Office, the guy behind me broadcast his half of a phone call to the entire lobby. “Hey, Martha! How’s it goin’? So I’m here waiting to mail... blah blah...and to let you know I’m sending the head.” Here, my daydream jumped the rails and I turned up my hearing aids. He continued, “I’m including cookies for Aunt Lucy...blah blah...but the head is for you... blah watch for the package.” By now I was pairing the disturbing words of a stranger announcing he’s “shipping the

head” with my image of a large cubic box covered with BIOHAZARD stickers and leaking a disgusting trail of “don’t wanna know” onto the counter. But— get ready for whiplash—I stole a quick peek at him that revealed a flat box good for shipping nothing larger than armadillo parts tucked in with Aunt Lucy’s cookies. Bummer! That’s warped, I know. Takes years of practice. Finally, after this gobsmacking public display, he hangs up. My cue. I say without prelude, “Gotta ask, what’s the deal with the head??” He stammered vaguely about a family heirloom, seemingly oblivious to the absurdity playing out. Still, he made my day, and this snippet of gruesome hilarity is brought to you now by Wisconsin, proud home of fried cheese, a Fargo accent and, yes, some dandy serial killers.

I won’t be impressed with technology until I can download food.

I replaced the cat’s litter box with a FedEx box. When it’s full, I tape it shut and put it on my front porch for someone to steal.


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Episode 14

"Daddy's Money" Previously:

Malcolm D. Monster promises ad man Lester Krasse two million dollars to deliver a marauding T. Rex to promote his new Salinas Monster Mart store. But when Army cannon fire is ineffective and the creature escapes with teenager Neil Scallopini to wreak havoc on Salinas, it takes Air Force jets to subdue it with tranquilizer dart-tipped missiles, and the T. Rex and Neil are incarcerated. Krasse cobbles together a fake T. Rex commercial hoping to win over Monster Mart, and local media reps begin courting him, one of whom is KTOM radio’s Sue Foxx. CEO Monster nixes Krasse’s fake dinosaur commercial, insisting on the real deal. Undaunted, Krasse convinces Sheriff Naylor to release the creature on a “work furlough” for Monster Mart’s commercial starring the heavilly sedated GODZELDA. When Neil sees it, he reveals how the T.Rex came out of his iceberg hunting expedition for the Icily Nicely Ice Co., and demands to be released. Later when Captain Horatio Algae corroborates his fantastic story, Neil regains his freedom just as Monster Mart’s Grand Opening commences...

Deputy Aguilar’s patrol car pulled up before the beige stucco dwelling where Neil had lived with his father since his parents separated. “Remember, we’ll need you for the hearing,” Aguilar reminded him. Neil nodded. “I know,” he said. “Thanks for the lift.” He pushed open the car door and headed for the front steps. He heard the car radio squawk and the Sheriff’s dispatcher relay a message in that cryptic numerical jargon typical of law enforcement communications. Then came the squeal of tires on asphalt and the shrill pulsating wail of a siren. He turned in time to see the car roar off down the street with red and blue lights flashing. The commotion aroused the occupants of the apartment complex opposite. Neil saw curtains in several windows part and curious faces peering out at him. This is just great, he thought. The whole neighborhood sees me come home in a squad car. Who needs this baloney? The mailbox was crammed full of newspapers, junk-mail and the usual bills. There was also a postcard from his father. It had a picture of Mt. Rainier and was postmarked from Tacoma. He flipped it over and read:

his house keys from his blue jeans pocket, inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. The bundle of mail slipped from his hand and spilled onto the entryway. A bright yellow flyer with Godzelda’s picture caught his eye. In the bottom right corner, a street map with arrows showed the way to Monster Mart. He gathered up the mail and went in. Neil set the mail on the end table by the telephone. He made a bee-line for the refrigerator, poured himself a glass of milk, and slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich. He brought them out to the living room and set them down on the coffee table. The TV’s remote control lay there. He turned on the set which was tuned to channel 33 and the Monster Mart broadcast. “And I want to thank Max and Ida Lucreman for coming all the way from Morgan Hill to be with us today,” Tommy Kaye was saying. He shook hands with the elderly couple, then turned to the camera. “In just a bit, we’ll meet Malcolm D. Monster, President of Monster Mart, who will be the one to actually introduce Godzelda. But first, I have another incredible Monster Mart value for you: the Pocket Pasta Maker-Extruder....” Convention super! Weather stinks! Miss our “That’s enough of that,” Neil muttered and was Salinas sunshine. Home soon with a big surprise. about to change the channel when the telephone trilled. It was Felicia Nicely. Finally! “Where are you?” Love, he demanded. Dad “I’m with Daddy at this clinic in Guatemala. He got PS- Look after The Car and drive carefully! worse right after you left.” Her voice faltered. “I-I’m Neil chuckled. His father was concerned about the afraid he may not make it this time.” “Gosh, I...” sports car they’d finally finished restoring. He pulled #14-25


“Listen, the plant’s closed til I get back, Neil. But I can’t say when that will be...” “Felicia, about that iceberg business...” “I know all about Godzelda,” she said. “You two were in all the papers, on TV and everything.” “So why didn’t you call the cops and explain? Everyone thinks I brought that monster into town deliberately! I’d still be in jail if Captain Algae hadn’t turned up!” “Neil, I’m sorry. I had to take care of Daddy. This clinic’s our only hope. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, I promise. But now I really need your help.” “Okay, okay,” he said. “What now?” “I need you to go to Lester Krasse. You remember him?” “How could I forget? His iceberg scam got me chased by that Tyrannosaurus Rex and thrown in the slammer! The guy’s got a few screws loose if you ask me.” “Maybe,” Felicia conceded. “But his idea might have worked, too-- except for Godzelda.” “Yeah, the monster loused up everything.” “But that’s only half of it, Neil,” she went on. “Krasse took money from Daddy for our new ad campaign-- a lot of money-- five thousand dollars!” “So? You hired the guy, didn’t you?” “But Krasse never made those ads, Neil! The campaign never ran. I need you to go to him and get our money back. For Daddy’s Prozone treatments. And to keep the business going.” “Told you that guy’s a flake. But I know right where he is. Monster Mart! Today’s the grand opening.” “I know,” Felicia replied. “I heard about those awful commercials. Probably all made with Daddy’s money.” Next issue:

Episode 15 The Real Monster

All previous episodes available at

Stay in the Lines

By Gilly Spangler

1. Stay in the lines!! 2. Use good colors! 3. Only color the pages I say!! 4. Don’t wrinkle the pages!! 5. Don’t color really hard!! 6. Don’t break my crayons! 7. Don’t sharpen my crayons!! 8. Don’t even peel the paper!! 9. Don’t sign your name!!! 10. And for the last one, don’t use my Gold, Silver or Bronze crayons!!

Maria Elena (to her family, just Maria to you) was your favorite coloring companion. She was a fifth grader, and went to Sacred Heart. You were outside friends and all you did was color, which was actually called Playing Crayola.

You knew she would see the nine times you went out of the lines. You’d walk to her house fast, carefully protecting your Deluxe Box of 64 with the built in sharpener stacked on two coloring books. Playing Crayola was much more than a simple childhood activity with Maria. Much more. And her ten rules were just the beginning. These were honored without question, no protest from you whatsoever. The thing is, you were the only one who had to. You never told her to follow the rules though. It wasn’t really fair, but that was fine. You liked playing Crayola. You’d put your Deluxe Set of 64 with the built in sharpener on the ground for her to inspect. She’d

take her time, usually switching some around. She always pretended they were hers. This was one of the unspoken rules. But that was fine. Then you’d hand over both books. Barbie ones this time. For what seemed like forever, she’d carefully go through yours, irritated, sighing, rolling her eyes. Sometimes she’d share her contempt aloud. Then she’d assign you a new page. After she chose one for herself, you would start to play Crayola. You diligently colored, trying to follow every rule. You’d sit next to each other crossed legged, balancing over your pages. Your anchoring arm, especially your fingers, sometimes felt kind of numb. The rule was to try to keep your arm in the same spot until it was time to put your crayon back. Oh, that’s right you thought quietly, glad you’d remembered. This was one of the newer rules. Good thing it was almost time to let her inspect your page, you needed a rest. You knew she would see the nine times you went out of the lines. She was going to see the slight (oh so slight) wrinkle due to your left handedness. (You were worried she’s someday make a right hand only rule.) She had to check the lines forever; she didn’t ever pick up the book, just leaned in closely, her head inches from yours. You went out of the lines four times!! Now you both had to lie on your stomach, to look together. What’s this color?? she asked, pointing at Skipper’s blouse. Periwinkle, you told her. What’s it called? Periwinkle, you say again,

17 pointing to it nestled between the Blue Green and Green Blue. She says it should be Melon. When you broke rule 2 like this, she would just look right at you, sometimes shaking her head slightly. Then you would agree and had to tell her it wasn’t a good color. If it was going to stay light long enough, she’d choose new pages and you’d keep playing. Usually there would be at least one new rule. She looked down. Ok. That’s it. For today that’s the rule. The Crayolas have to go in the right place. You knew this one was going to be hard, you could tell just by her tone. You hadn’t memorized the new right places yet. You glanced at the open box, leaning towards you both diagonally, supported by it’s lid. This is when she’d stand up, knees locked, hands on her hips. OK! This is the whole new rule. The whole new rule is, don’t leave the Crayolas by your page. Put them in the right places. She waited for you to agree it was a good rule. Instead you’d sit quietly, waiting for all the details. OK, you can have three by your page and the one in your left hand! You kept quiet. She reminds me again to put them back in their right places. And stay in the lines! You never questioned Maria about the specifics of playing Crayola. Nothing about her logic, or reasons behind her endless rules. It was fun to play for some reason. You rested for a minute, and chose Forest Green for Ken’s shoes. You sat upright to think about it (that was the rule after all) and decided on Burnt Sienna. I tried my hardest to follow each and every rule, sometimes proud of my coloring skills, but always worried. No matter how hard I tried, I always forgot one of the rules. I still color today, and still can’t stay in the lines.

1 Hour


The Arts Council for Monterey County (Arts4MC) will present their 15th annual Champions of the Arts Gala, on Saturday, February 1, 2020. Every summer, Arts4MC announces a “Call for Champions” inviting the public and art enthusiasts in Monterey County to nominate “Champions of the Arts” in several categories including; Lifetime Achievement, Professional Artist and Arts Educator. A jury of individuals representing the five supervisorial districts evaluate the nominations and submit the next roster of Champions to the Arts4MC Board of Directors. A press conference, hosted by Champions Event Chair Nicollette Eason Trottier and Arts4MC Deputy Director Jacquie Atchison, was held on October 17, 2019 at The Press Club/Hidden Fortress Cafe in Seaside to announce the 2020 Champions. Those honored include Greg Hawthorne, founder of Hawthorne Gallery and civic leader, with the Lifetime

Achievement Award and John Nash, founder and director of the Monterey Peninsula Gospel Community Choir, with the Luminary Award. The evening will also celebrate MPUSD VAPA Coordinator Jacqui Hope with the Educator Award, Rancho

Rolling out of bed it easy. Getting up off the floor is anther story.

Cielo with the Nonprofit Award, Janene Norum with the Volunteer Leader Award and Sherree Anderson with the Professional Artist Award. The newly renovated Portola Hotel & Spa is the venue for the Champions Gala, with an expected attendance of 400 guests. The evening begins with a cocktail reception at 5 pm, featuring a unique art installation by Featured Artist Paul Richmond, signature cocktail, a raffle for an overflowing bar cart, followed by a gourmet dinner, amazing live auction opportunities and the awards presentations. There

If a plant is sad, do other plants photosympathize with it?

will be multiple performances, followed by dancing and music provided by the Latin Jazz Collective. Among other highlights will be video vignettes of the Champions accomplishments created by BigTime Video Services. All event proceeds support the Arts Council for Monterey County programs and expand our award-winning Arts Education programs including Professional Artists in the Schools and Arts as Healing and Prevention, which is now serving more than 25,000 youth, Veterans and Seniors each year through special residencies in-school, after-school and in community centers throughout the county. Less than 50% of the 75,000 students (k-12) in Monterey County are receiving Arts Education in school. Our goal is to advocate and raise funds to help ensure that every student in our Community has access to high quality arts education. Art instruction helps children with the development of motor skills, language skills, social skills, decision-making, risk-taking, and inventiveness. And a report by Americans for the Arts states that young people who participate regularly in the arts (three hours a day on three days each week through one full year) are four times more likely to be recognized for academic achievement, to participate in a math and science fairs, or to win an award for writing an essay or poem than children who do not participate. This event sells out every year! For more event details and to purchase tickets, please visit The mission of the Arts Council for Monterey County is to improve the quality of life for everyone in our region through the arts. For more information, please email


Dingus Purchases By Jay Russell

A dingus purchase idea’s gets fruitioned into credit card slashing by all from time to time. But, when the holidays roll around, the dingii multiply. Whatever you do, don’t buy an expensive and bulky fake bicycle or automated walk way (unless you’re snowed in). You know, those paper shredders for Benjamins aka workout equipment. Nothing washes the hog more than taking a bike, chucking one tire, and stapling it to a hundred pound stand. Now these bikes come with an artificial cherry on top, a video screen with some botoxroid psycho yelling at you to “dig.” I’d rather ride a bike with training wheels to prom. Did you just buy an 800 pound bow-flex? By god, if you have enough empty space in your house to fit that enormity you make too much money. That thing looks bigger, heavier and more dangerous than the iron throne of the seven kingdoms. What about treadmills? Did you forget where the sidewalk is; did you slip into a Shel Silverstein dimension where they have all ended? The only approved usage for the electric walkway comes from Johnny

Knoxville and the fun fools of Jackass. Aside from projectiling yourself off of one of those at full speed, their existence has no point. Hamsters run in wheels because they can’t get outside, you can, get out there.

The only approved usage for the electric walkway comes from Johnny Knoxville and the fun fools of Jackass I know exercising gets you feeling healthy and happy, crucial during the winter doldrums. Sane ways exist to go about that though. Try falling down a hill, get some fresh air and grass. There is more pride in getting chased by turkeys or squirrels than throwing money at your poor physique. Even getting lost in a strange city or air bicycling on your back look less embarrassing. Seeing as that the calendar has turned to January, it may be too late to prevent the disaster, but you can resolve to find those foolish receipts for these wallet crippling behemoths.

Filling a whoopee cushion with chocolate pudding adds a whole new dimension to the joke.

At the end of the day of the yearly beer maker’s conference, all of the presidents of all the beer companies decide to have a drink in a bar. The president of ‘Budweiser’ orders a Bud, the president of ‘Miller’ orders a Miller Lite, Adolph Coors orders a Coors, and the list goes on. Then the waitress asks Arthur Guinness what he wants to drink, and much to everybody’s amazement, Mr. Guinness orders a Coke! “Why don’t you order a Guinness?” his colleagues ask. “Naah. If you guys won’t drink beer, than neither will I.” Tony & Sarah are the owners and your hosts at the Crown & Anchor. Come in and be warmed by their humor and hospitality.



By Jann Gargiulo One year ago I wrote a story in this magazine about how, when I was six years old, I asked my Mom if I could marry my Daddy when I grew up. Her response to me was, “Absolutely not young lady!” I concluded the story by saying that “this wise lady sat me down and explained to me gently that what I really wanted was to marry someone like Daddy.” At the ripe old age of six, I didn’t think there could ever be anyone like my Daddy! As I grew older, I looked at many boys … they were useful, but none of them were anything like my daddy. Oh sure, some of them could work on cars, even rebuild a motor (I could rebuild a carburetor; small fingers

help). Some could build houses and other such things; some were really handy around the house. But, I would have to marry all of them to get my Daddy! I couldn’t put my finger on what it was about my daddy that I loved so much. He believed that he could only give something to one of us if he had enough to give to all twelve of us. I understood him, but did so disagree with him, and he knew it! If one of us wanted to borrow a hundred dollars, he wouldn’t lend it unless he had twelve hundred dollars. So, I learned how to ask for things. Example: I saw an old TV in the shed (our old dollhouse) so I asked Daddy if that old thing wasn’t in his way? I told him

I’d take it off his hands for free! I’d take it home and in a few days I’d have it fixed; and that’s how I’d get a TV and furniture, and an old car (mistake!). Since I spent so much time with Daddy, I learned how to work on cars, use tools, build things and even fix most things around the house. Maybe that was what I was looking for

If one of us wanted to borrow a hundred dollars, he wouldn’t lend it unless he had twelve hundred dollars. in the guys I dated; in the man I would marry. Is that what I loved so much about my daddy? I didn’t know. But my wise Mother did, many years ago when she told me that I couldn’t marry Daddy. She said that I’d understand one day. Well, I had just turned 30 when I found myself visiting some

friends in Detroit. I had flown there on United Airlines. When all the passengers departed the plane they told us that United is now on strike! We all wanted to know for how long, but were told that we could cash our tickets in at any United ticket booth except the ones there in Detroit. So, I took turns staying with girlfriends. Finally I realized that the time was passing too fast. My sister lived in Ohio. If I could get to Ohio, we could drive down to Maryland for our parents anniversary. I had run out of money. The only thing I had worth anything was my return ticket. But, none of my girlfriends would take it. So they pitched in and got me a bus ticket to Cleveland. And that’s where I met the man who was like my Daddy!!! Continued next month..

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Nothing is made in America anymore. My TV says, ‘Built in Antenna’. I didn’t know there was such a country.

NEW! The ‘Gourmet Zombie Guide to International Fine Dining’ By Roger Freed Due to the success of our hugely popular ‘Gourmet Zombie Guide To Fine Dining In America’ we are coming out with our International Guide for those zombies with enough money or societal pull to be able to get through TSA lines without being trapped and taken to a detox center or actually shot enough times to be dropped. Or for those zombies which live in the countries mentioned from whom we have relied on for source material. Many thanks to those who helped us write this book, but please do not send us any more brains samples as they are usually rather rancid by the time they get to us and the Post Office is also frowning upon the practice..... as are U.S. health officials who are afraid of infestation from dripping packages. When it comes to the finer aspects the art of eating brains as your main source of nutrition, the countries of the Caribbean have it all over the rest of the world. With Haiti as the world wide leader in producing ‘the living dead’ as an integral part of their Voodoo culture, it would

fall to reason that they would have a highly advanced cranial culture when it comes to cuisine. And of course being surrounded by all that sunshine, ocean and jungle nature would make for healthier than normal, robust, meaty brains to chose from (or, as healthy as the poorest country in the western hemisphere can get). Cerebral specialties here in the islands include Tenderized Brains- (brains where the donor was beaten too severely in the head while bringing him down), Marinated Brains (brains where the victim was already stinking drunk when the zombie hunter got to him/her), and Brains Still In The Shell, a unique way of serving the gray matter introduced to us by Hannibal Lector in the movie ‘Hannibal’. Eastern European countries also have their own unique offerings to the Brain Banquets of the World. Romania, in particular the Transylvania area, has their own Brains Drained specialty using the discarded corpses of vampire’s feasts. The vampires are only interested in the necks of

the victims and fortunately for us, leave the heads intact, minus of course the blood therein. Hungary has its Brains with Paprika, East Germany its Brains with Sauerkraut (the brains are fermented as well), Albania has the very rare and unique Werewolf Brains and, for those on a budget- Werewolf Victim’s Brains. Greece offers its popular Brains Tied Up With Octopus Tentacles and, finally, the crème de la creme- Russia’s answer to its expensive burial costs for the drunk indigent- Brains Soaked In Vodka.

Japanese Brain Sushi will be raw, but most zombie diners are used to that anyway. Unfortunately, Western European dishes can be rather bland. Germans have the boring, typical Brains on Toast. British brains are dried up, French brains too fatty and Belgian brains soggy from having been cooked in the same oil they cook their pomme frites in and from

21 too much beer consumption. The exception to these mediocre fares is the wonderful Italian brains with all the splendor of the Mediterranean diets of the victims infused in them. One finds subtle hints of pine and rosemary, the aroma of sunflower fields, the soft kiss of sun drenched wheat fields, the spray of the ocean infused in every cell. Unfortunately, Italian brains are hard to find and illegal from being forbidden by the Catholic Church and one could run the risk of being arrested or damned to Eternal Hell for even possessing a couple grams of them. Let the buyer beware!!! The Orient is not to be left behind, although their offerings may be too exotic for some. Japanese Brain Sushi will be raw, but most zombie diners are used to that anyway. Singaporean Srirachi Brains is too spicy for many, but with decaying taste buds most diners seem to be OK with it. For the cost conscious the Philippines has its Political and Drug Seller Prisoner Brains at a rock bottom price, but supply might soon be limited as President Duerte has his henchmen out trying to get rid of the zombies and zombie suppliers too. Watch out that you don’t end up on THEIR menu for the evening! Lastly the Tibetans offer the 100 Year Old Brains which are risky to eat, but, Hey!, you are dead anyway! Purchase a copy within the next week and receive editions autographed by our writing staff. Be sure to order one before they are all killed off by concerned citizens! Coming in the spring- The ILLUSTRATED Gourmet Zombie Guide To International Fine Dining. It was enough to gag a maggot already, now imagine it in living (or dead) color!


THERE’S NO PACE LIKE SLOW or DUMPING THE BUCKETS By Robyn Justo I’ve been teased about my sticky notes and obsessive planning. I think I have always had these habits although they seem to be more prevalent as I get older. They really help me get through the day and if I lose my list, I sometimes lose my mind, backtracking like a cockroach for a crumb, squealing when I find it stuck to a Target shelf where I was last. A friend recently nicknamed me “The Wedding Planner.” There is definitely no wedding, but I am quite detailed in my visions for just about anything, especially a move and there are always lots of those in my life. So even though the adorable

bunnies and animated roadrunners came by to visit me in the desert, I made the decision that the boulders, javelina family gatherings on my patio, nocturnal scorpion surprises, and the dry air that made my paws crack in pain were not for me at this point in my life. I craved humidity and lush green landscapes, proximity to the ocean breezes, and well, my island of Maui. I always thought that if I was going to leave the planet anytime soon that I would move back to Maui and enjoy the rest of my life. Not that this is the plan, but the thought hit me. Why wait till then? If Maui is on my bucket list (again) why not do it

MAKE ME Smashed Peas & Noodles INGREDIENTS

• 12 oz butter noodles • 1 1/2 cp frozen peas, thawed • 1 tsp lemon zest • 1/2 cp ricotta cheese


• 1/2 tsp kosher salt • 1/2 tsp pepper • 1/4 cp chives, chopped

1. Cook pasta per package directions. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking water. 2. Pulse one cup peas in a food processor. 3. Add zest and ricotta. Pulse to combine. 4. Add salt and pepper. 5.Toss pasta with ricotta mixture 5. Add remaining 1/2 cup peas 6. If pasta seems dry, add reserve water 7. Sprinkle with chopped chives and serve

NOW? I was also getting tired of hearing myself whine and reminisce. (Read my last article. Another friend of mine used to have a F - - k it Bucket and tossed everything in it she was not going to worry about anymore. Rhymes better if you say it, but for now we are working under the constraints of the sensory deprivation of politically correct, age appropriate journalism, and my publisher.)

I proudly had moving down to an art form and could double as the planner of the move after the divorce of the couple whose wedding I had (not) planned. The sticky lists were quickly made and I amped up to warp ten. Stuff was consigned, donated, and given to friends with open arms who were more than willing to receive all of the goodies and treasures I never thought I would part with, and the little that was left was stored in a very short period of time. I proudly had moving down to an art form and could double as the planner of the move after the divorce of the couple whose wedding I had (not) planned. My Matrix was shipped (although I’m still trying to track it down somewhere between AZ and the islands as I vividly imagine it enjoying its freedom like a prodigal kid and if it doesn’t show up soon, I will put it in my eff-it bucket.) Time whizzed by as if by Divine magic and I was relocated and instantly recalibrated to a turtle’s pace as soon as my feet touched down on the island. It’s chilly where I am temporarily staying, the name of the town aptly named Kula, so I was glad

that I packed my fuzzy old-ladybut-stylish slippers and sweaters. Makes slower feel even better when one is cozy and warm. Another thing that had been on my good bucket list for many years was living in a tiny house. And darn if I didn’t find one on Craigslist within a week of my aloha return that had me salivating on sight. I could feel my bucket emptying even more. This adorably cute as Baby Yoda (not Yoda), sparkling, brand spanking new tiny house just had to be mine. And it was. I picked up the keys yesterday. My nearest neighbor will be a goat named CiCi and we have already bonded. She won’t scare, sting, or bite me like the critters I just left behind. My landlord is a gift from above and I guess all of the lists and planning served me well, but things got even better when I slowed down to the aloha pace, took my little cracked paws off the wheel, relaxed even more, and allowed it all to fall into place. I asked a friend if I had died or was dreaming because it all seemed so surreal. I could be but then you would be too if you can read this. In a few days I will be living outside of my bucket, encouraging you to dump yours (whichever kind you have), and do the same because there’s no pace like slow.

That awkward moment when a zombie is looking for brains and he walks right by you.

Everybody Has a Bob Dylan Story

By Tony Albano

Anyone who knows me knows that music is my life. They also know that I believe Bob Dylan is, without a doubt, a genius and a master songwriter. He has totally intrigued me since I was ten years old. Over the years I’ve taken a lot of heat because many people don’t understand what I see in him. They make fun of his voice; they say they don’t understand him; they say he’s terrible, etc. But there is no way to influence my opinion of him. Because friends and associates know I’m a Dylan fan, they sometimes play tricks on me like leaving a sign on my door saying, “Sorry I missed you, Tony. (Signed) Bob Dylan.” Other people who know how I feel are kind enough to send me articles or books or other material on him that they think I haven’t seen. Some people find it a challenge to be the first to surprise me with something I don’t know about him. Usually I thank them graciously even though, most often, I’ve seen or have the item. Some people who find out that I’m a music and Bob Dylan fan want to impress me with stories about him, such as, “I knew a girl who knew a guy whose cousin went to school with him,” or “I once knew a girl who dated him.” This has been happening my whole adult life. It’s happened so much that I have to be careful because sometimes my New York sarcasm can backfire. Let me give you a few examples. I had a lovely neighbor named Ruth; she was older, but loved when I played my music loud and said that it never bothered her. She actually

enjoyed knowing that I was upstairs. We had become very close, and she knew about my intrigue with Bob Dylan. She told me that her nephew was in the music industry in Los Angeles and that one year he was so broke that he was living out of his car, but now he was about to make it big in the music industry. She also told me that he’d been in Dylan’s company several times. I took this with a grain of salt, but since it was Ruth, I politely listened. I told Pat, “Ruth’s just another person telling me a story about Bob Dylan.” But, lo and behold, I found out that her nephew actually produced Bonnie Raitt’s mega-hit album, Nick of Time, and was now working on an album with Bob Dylan that he ended up producing. His name is Don Was. For once, one of the stories was true.

She said, “Yes, how do you know that? My mother is Pauline, Joan’s sister.” I was shocked. Another person was telling me the truth. It was for real. Since then, Pearl has gone on to sing with Joan Baez at many of her concerts. I bumped into Pearl a couple of days ago and we reminisced about that occasion when I doubted her. Another time I became acquainted with Alfredo, a man who delivers wood in Carmel. One day he had to stop at my house. When he came in and saw my bookshelf and saw all my Bob Dylan books, he casually said, “I bet I’m in some of these books you have about Bob Dylan.”

After he left, I turned to my friend and said, “Oh, another guy with a Bob Dylan story.” That night I was reading a book called Positively 4th Street, and once again, lo and behold, Alfredo is in the book hanging out with Bob Dylan and Richard Farina and the Baez sisters in the very early days of their musical careers. Now Alfredo is no longer the wood man to me; I want him to be my best friend and tell me all he knows about those early years. Maybe I should stop with the New York sarcasm, shut up, and just listen when someone has a story about my favorite songwriter. It just may be true. And to all my friends who have given me grief over the years about how awful Bob Dylan is, I feel I’ve been vindicated by the fact that he recently won the Nobel Prize in Literature.

There is only one rule: Every row, column and box of 3x3 cells must contain the numbers 1 through 9 once.

Some people find it a challenge to be the first to surprise me with something I don’t know about him. You’d think I would have learned my lesson about doubting people, but I hadn’t. I was working at a restaurant in Carmel with Pearl, the lovely young hostess. I would come in every day singing Bob Dylan songs. One day she said, “Tony, you really like Bob Dylan.” I said, “I guess I’m pretty obvious about that.” She said, “You know my aunt almost married him.” So, I thought, here we go again. I said, “Who the hell is your aunt, Joan Baez?”


Answers on page 30


By Rex Keyes

Shopping Frenzy & New Year’s Resolutions

2019 is now gone, but in December, millions of Americans were in a buying frenzy. One only had to go shopping a week or two before Christmas to see this hysteria. Just about all the stores were packed with people buying things. Even the dollar stores on the weekend before Christmas had long lines. FedEx and UPS stated that prior to Christmas because of the huge increase in demand in online shopping that they couldn’t necessarily guarantee on time deliveries. There might not be anything or very little left for after Christmas sales.

If one wanted to get a divorce, all one would have to do is trade in the robot on a younger model, excuse me, a newer model. It seemed to be that electronics were in biggest demand. One parent that I talked to said that his kid who was about twelve wanted above all else, a smartphone. That’s the modern generation now. Probably in ten to twenty years, robots available will be in high demand. Heck, we already have a robot vacuum cleaner. In the future, say, in about fifty years, one could buy a robot companion and program it to one’s likes and then no one would have to get married as it would replace a human spouse. If one wanted to get a divorce, all one would have to do is trade in the robot on a younger model, excuse me, a newer model.

So you survived visiting your relatives, the in-laws, the big Christmas dinner and the New Year’s Eve party. Everything is back to normal with the beginning of the New Year. Or is it? What about all those New Year’s resolutions? Are you going to accomplish them? There’s quitting smoking, losing weight, getting more exercise, climbing Mt. Everest or Toro Peak, cleaning the cat’s litter box more often, not speeding in your sports car (buy a radar detector just in case you forget and enter a speed trap), cutting back a little on all those Frappuccinos at Starbucks, not texting while driving; the toughest resolution. Maybe taking a shower more than once or twice a week, not leaving dirty dishes in the sink for a day or two, not getting any more than the ten tattoos you already have or carrying a plastic bag to pick up your dog’s poop when you take him for a walk. Maybe you resolve to cut those two foot high weeds on your front lawn and the mini junkyard to make your neighbors happy. If your kids are in their twenties, not going to college or don’t have a job and are staying at home, have them do some of your resolutions like cleaning the cat box, walking the dog with a bag to pick up the poop, mow, pull weeds and clean up the front yard and wash the few day old dishes that were left in the sink. This should give you peace of mind. All in all, the best resolution is to be happy and have fun throughout the New Year and a new decade.

1) Any New Year’s Resolutions? 2) Where would you like to visit this year? 3) What was the single best thing that happened last year? Bob #1 1) I need to do a better job disguising my poor life choices. Lately, I noticed people I know crossing the street to avoid me. 2) I want to travel to Wrangell-Peterson, Alaska to see the rock shaped like a face with tress growing out of its head. 3) I won some money in Las Vegas and walked away before giving it back to the casino.

Robert 1) I resolve to stop talking to you. Why do you keep following me around? I feel sorry for you. 2) I would like to see the colored striped formations at Coyote Buttes. I’m sure it’s better in person than on my computer screen. 3) I’m glad my wife didn’t leave me. I’d die of starvation if she left.

Roberta 1) Why would I make resolutions? Are you implying that there is something wrong with me? 2) Scottsboro Alabama is on my bucket list. It’s the city where unclaimed luggage goes. Maybe I can find the bag Southwest lost last year when I traveled to see my sister. 3) I have ADHD and prone to boredom. Creating more neurologic excitement in my life has made me happier. Reading Foolish Times is part of my happiness.

Bob #2 1) I would like to be less lame and more assertive. I think so anyway. 2) I’m saving up to go to Riverside, Iowa. You can’t get there directly so it’s very expensive. It’s the city that Captain Kirk will be born in 2228. I’m a huge Star Trek fan. 3) Even though she wanted to end the evening early, a girl agreed to go out on a date with me.

25 step before she laughs. God asks her, “You were so close, why did you laugh?” and she responds, “I just got the first joke.”

What did the blonde name her pet zebra? Spot.

A blonde was looking for work. While passing through a busy business district, she sees a notice saying fabric cutters wanted. She applied, saying, she can cut anything, and gets the job. On her first day, the floor manager showed her the equipment used for fabric cutting. Settling her into her assigned tasks, the floor manager leaves her, reminding her of the need to be careful with the potentially dangerous equipment. “Remember, be careful and keep watching your hands!” he admonishes. An hour later not hearing any activity at her station, he returns to check up on her and finds the blonde sitting and admiring her nails. “What are you doing?” The irritated floor manager asked. “Watching my hands,” replied the blonde.

Why did the blonde snort artificial sweetener? She thought it was diet coke.

You know how birds can’t see glass? Blondes can’t either.

My blonde stopped at a Chevron station to get gas. She intended to pay in cash since that’s all she had. When she gets out she reads the sign that said “Pay at Pump.” She got frustrated and went to another gas station because she wanted to go inside to pay with cash.

What happens when a blonde gets Alzheimer’s disease? Her IQ goes up.

What do you get when you cross a blonde and a gorilla? Who knows, there is only so much a gorilla can be forced to do.

A blonde, a brunette, and a ginger all die. In order to get into heaven though, they must go up one hundred steps, each containing a joke. The trick is that they must not laugh. The brunette goes first and laughs at the first step and is sent to hell. The ginger goes next and makes it to the seventh step before she laughs. Finally, it’s the blondes turn. She gets all the way to the 99th

How do you know when a blonde has been making chocolate chip cookies? You find M&M shells all over the kitchen floor.

A blonde was going on a fly to New York. When the attendant came by and asked for her ticket, she told the blonde, “I’m sorry. Your ticket isn’t for first class. Could you please move to your seat?” The blonde replied, “I’m blonde, I’m beautiful, and I’m going to New York.” The attendant got so upset that she went to the captain and told him what happened. The captain went and whispered something in the blonde’s ear and she immediately got up and went to her seat in coach. The attendant asked the captain how he got the stubborn blonde to move. He said, “I just told her that this part of the plane wasn’t going to New York.”

What is the difference between a blonde and a toilet? A toilet won’t follow you around after you use it.

What do you call a blonde at Stanford? A visitor.

There’s a magical mountain that you jump off and yell the name of something and you turn in to what you yell. A brunette jumps off and yells “Eagle!” She turns into an eagle and flies away. A redhead jumps off and yells “Butterfly!” She turns into a butterfly and flutters away. The Blonde tripped on a vine, and said “Oh Crap!”

What is a blonde’s favorite part of a gas station? The air pump!

Why did the blonde throw a stick of butter out the window? Because she wanted to see a butterfly.

Did you hear about the blonde who stood in front of a mirror with her eyes closed? She wanted to see what she looked like asleep.

Ditcher, Quick & Hyde. Divorce lawyers


By Ted Gargiulo


They call it the “WILLING SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF”: accepting as truth that which one knows to be false. It’s setting aside a portion of one’s rational mind, albeit unconsciously, and identifying with people one doesn’t know, people who aren’t real. Think: characters in a play or movie, or in a work of fiction. Imagine sharing their lives without having to live them; feeling their passions without having to own them; borrowing an alternate reality without abandoning one’s own! My wife is a perfect example of this phenomenon. She never fails to throw herself into nearly every show she sees. I often hear

her from the other end of the house, talking to the characters on the tube. She warns them about dangers and pitfalls she sees before they do. She laughs at their mishaps, chides them for their foolishness, gasps audibly when something violent or unexpected transpires. Mind you, she has no trouble whatever separating illusion from reality. (Sadly, not all viewers can make that distinction!) She knows that the plots and the characters are fabricated, the stunts have been staged, and the effects were created in a studio. Nevertheless, the impressions they form in her mind are real and occasionally, depending on

New Year, New Things Answers on pg 30

Resolution Clock Hockey Goals January Excitement Balloons Midnight Soup Future Influence Dance Crackers Wishes Cheers Marriage Mindful Fireplace Evergreen Travel

the show, downright scary! So much so, she won’t go bed that night until she’s cleared her mind of those impressions with a less intimidating program, or a comedy.

As a writer and former actor, I have an insider’s perspective on illusion Such is the downside of immersing oneself so completely in a fiction! Jann contends that if she didn’t, there would be no sense in her watching! As a writer and former actor, I have an insider’s perspective on illusion. Perhaps my knack for separating myself from the characters I’ve portrayed or invented enables me to keep a safe, sensible distance from the fabrications I see on the screen. Unlike Jann, I can usually appreciate a drama without becoming personally involved or adversely affected by it. What’s more, I have no difficulty going to sleep when it’s over. My only problem is staying awake while it’s on!

The same principle, I feel, applies to personal relationships. Without some measure of faith, human interaction is virtually impossible. But there are dangers here too. How far can a person willingly suspend his disbelief without losing his perspective altogether? Without leaving himself vulnerable to deception, or disillusionment? In the social realm, I’ve taken immense comfort in hiding behind that same veil of disbelief and indifference that protects my moviegoer’s imagination. It has kept me from venturing outside my private comfort zone, into unfamiliar territory I’m not emotionally equipped to navigate. It has spared me the heartache that comes from trusting the wrong people, the humiliation of allowing myself to be caught up in pointless conflicts that I could have avoided by keeping to myself. And the sting of knowing I’ve been had! Long ago, I discovered that it was easier, wiser and far less risky to interact with the world from a distance, than to fool myself into believing that the people I thought I knew were any less illusory than characters in a script. Or worse, being forced to admit that this objective, dispassionate observer who calls himself Ted is, in some ways, a work of fiction in whom people (including Ted) have come to believe, not wisely but too well!

Don’t be concerned with the increase of Artificial Intelligence. Be concerned with the decease in real intelligence.

By Nancy Pyzel


While walking in Balboa Park, San Diego I heard the whalelike moans of a digeridoo, an Australian aborigine instrument. If someone who plays the cello is called a cellist, and someone who plays the piano is called a pianist, what do you call someone who plays digeridoo? A ‘digeridoer’? I thought about my job, financial advisor. Does this actually describe what I do? Am I a “doer”? My day starts with unlocking my file cabinet and plugging my laptop into the docking station. I enter two passwords to unlock my desktop and three more passwords for software programs. Two of these programs send a code to my phone. The third asks me security questions. These security questions are very relatable, and not written by Stanford computer science grads. Questions like “What was the name of your fourth grade calculus teacher?” Remember the old television show ‘Get Smart’? When dealing with three factor authentication, do you ever feel like you’re walking down that corridor with a seemingly endless line of security doors opening and closing? Dun ta duuun dun! In the software login equivalent of that corridor, I’m finally at the last door, about to enter the phone booth that drops me down to CONTROL headquarters so I can fight the evil agents of KAOS. (It’s easier to pretend I’m a secret agent than to admit that I’m basically a slave to the whims of software engineers.) One last click to open email. It doesn’t

work. I am stuck in the phone booth. I call tech support and am put on hold. Mozart. I finally get through and am told to call a different number. Another hold. Beatles this time. Does hold music say more about the software company or the caller? What if they let you select the genre of hold music? Is there some data mining program tracking which hold music I’ve selected? Will my choice of music affect how the support person treats me?

Does hold music say more about the software company or the caller? What if they let you select the genre of hold music? “Ok, this customer is number three in the queue, but she picked the Jonas Brothers station, which automatically drops her down to number 27. But, hey, if she listens to Jonas Brothers, she doesn’t have a life anyway. She probably enjoys being on hold. Just then tech support guy comes through. He takes over my computer and moves a bunch of stuff around my screens like a guy at the county fair with a shell game. I think he is daring me to figure out whether he is actually doing anything, or just screwing with me. After about 10 minutes, he says he can’t fix it, but he can give me a ‘Ticket Number’. Wow! That’s just what I need! I don’t need my email to work, I just need a ticket number.

27 Tech guy asks with a hint of impatience if there is anything else he can do for me. I want to scream, “Yes! Fix my email!” But I get it. He’s busy. He has other things to do. That porn doesn’t download itself. Now I have to check one email using Outlook and the other using web mail. It gives me the productivity equivalent of climbing stairs with one bad knee. I limp away from email and back to the tax program, which has closed because it was left alone too long. Now, like the cat that pees on your shoes because you forgot to feed it, the tax program refuses to open. Why is the worst hold music always played by companies with the longest hold time? This company should be able to get through most of Wagner’s Ring Cycle before someone picks up the phone. When I finally get through I am told, “The latest Windows update doesn’t play nicely with our software.” “Doesn’t play nicely?” I say. “So, just to be clear, you are saying that two software programs I depend on for the functioning of my business most closely resemble small children fighting over Legos and candy? Do you realize how scary that sounds?” “Tech guy says, “Have a great evening!” and hangs up. People in call centers the world

over must wonder why they are supposed to say, “Have a nice day!” to angry, upset Americans. They must think we always end with this cheery refrain, no matter how antagonistic the rest of the conversation. Call center version of an American mugging: “Give me your wallet or I’ll blow your brains out!” “Don’t shoot me. Here’s my wallet.” “Thanks. Have a good evening.” “Bye. Have a nice day.” Another time-wasting challenge is creating a new password every month, though it is a good way to memorize bible verses or famous quotes. You make up an acronym using the first letter of each word. As with baby names, it is a good idea to consider the significance of the initials. ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit.’ B. A. T. P. I. S. Maybe not. So, what do I do? Am I a doer? At the end of the day, I have done very few tasks on my list. I undid a lot of problems. I must be an un-doer. I think I’ll learn to play the digeridoo. It doesn’t require a password.

If I was a plastic surgeon, I would put a squeaky toy in every breast implant.


Auld Lang Syne

I’m actually feeling pretty okay about not accomplishing anything this year.

On New Year’s Eve, when everyone’s counting down the final ten seconds to ring in the New Year, I get up off the couch and stand up. I raise my left leg and just leave it raised for a little while until the countdown finishes and midnight strikes. I always start the New Year off on the right foot.

I’m planning on finding new and interesting things to hate about my job in 2020.

Q: Why do you need a jeweler on New Year’s Eve? A: To ring in the New Year.

If you’re born in September, it’s pretty safe to assume your parents started out the New Year with a bang!

Every year I make a resolution to change myself. This year I’m making a resolution to be myself! Youth is when you’re allowed to stay up late on New Year’s Eve. Old age is when you’re forced to. My dog’s New Year’s Resolution: I will not chase that stick unless I actually see it leave my mater’s hand.

Q: Why shouldn’t you go jogging on New Year’s Eve? A: The ice falls out of your drink. At a New Year’s party, Paul turns to his friend, Ken, and asks for a cigarette. ‘I thought you made a New Year’s resolution to quit smoking,’ Ken responds. ‘I’m in the process of quitting,’ replies Paul. “Right now, I am in the middle of phase one. I’ve quit buying them”’

My new year’s resolution is to be more optimistic by keeping my cup half-full with rum, vodka, or whiskey.

I love when they drop the ball in Times Square. It’s a nice reminder of what I did all year.

What happened to the guy who thought about the evils of drinking in the New Year? He gave up thinking.

A Senator in was asked about his attitude toward alcohol. ‘If you mean the demon drink that poisons the mind, pollutes the body, desecrates family life, then I’m against it. But if you mean the elixir of a New Year toast, the shield against winter chill and the taxable potion that puts needed funds into public coffers, then I’m for it.  This is my position, and I will not compromise.’

My New Year’s resolution is to break my New Year’s resolutions. That way I succeed at something!

A drunk man comes inside a bar and says, “Happy New Year, everybody.” “It’s June, you drunk,” replies the waiter. The man looks at his watch and says, “Oh my god, my wife is going to kill me! I have never been so late in my life!”

Q: What happened to the person who stole a calendar on New Year’s Eve? A: He got 12 months.

My resolution is to make a handful of people believe I’m normal before blindsiding them with my actual personality

Dear Lord, it’s January first and I’ve done well. I haven’t gossiped, I haven’t lost my temper, I haven’t been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish, or overindulgent. I’m very thankful for that. But in a few minutes, Lord, I’m going to get out of bed, and from then on I’m probably going to need your help. Amen

Here’s to pretending everything changes with a new year.

Q: What do porcupines say after they kiss? A: Ouch! Q: Where do you find a dog with no legs? A: Right where you left him. Q: What do you get from a pampered cow? A: Spoiled milk. Q: Who earns a living driving their customers away? A: An Uber driver. Q: Why do Hummingbirds hum? A: They’ve never learned the words. Q: What is the best way to communicate with a fish? A: Drop it a line. Q: What did the beach say as the tide came in? A: Long time, no sea. Q: Why did the gardener plant his money? A: He wanted the soil to be rich. Q: What jam can’t be eaten on toast? A: A traffic jam. Q: What is the tallest building in the world? A: The library. It has the most stories.


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Foolish Sudoku

Answers from page 23

A Seaside cop sees a man driving around with a pickup truck full of sea lions. He pulls the guy over and says: “You can’t drive around with sea lions. Take them to the wharf immediately.” The guy says OK, and drives away. The next day, the officer sees the same guy driving around with the truck full of sea lions. He pulls the guy over again. “I thought I told you to take these sea lions to the wharf?” The guy replies: “I did. Today I’m taking them to Dennis the Menace Park.

Foolish Search

Answers from page 26

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INSURANCE J Taylor Insurance

Specialize in high value homes, collector cars-collections, umbrellas, commercial-business. 40 years experience. Old fashion personal service - your home or business. 831.224.5065.

CA TRAVEL BOOKS Venturing out? CA Road Trips Staycation? Monterey & Carmel

HOME CARE S&J Homecare

Available on short notice. We will take good care of your loved one. Expanded services include pet care, light housekeeping and errands. Excellent references. CPR certified. 831.277.8780



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In home service and repair. Available for emergencies seven days a week. Residential and commercial. Courteous, punctual and cleans up. 831.7472036

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Cell Phones, tablets, PC’s & Audio Devices.Fast, Convenient,Affordable. Del Monte Center 831.38.4851

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AUTOMOTIVE Hans Auto Repair Factory trained Volvo tech Servicing all makes & models 831.583.9820

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January 10 Comedy at the Pink Flamingo

January 1 Happy New Year

2020 will have all the ingredients for a prosperous year. It will be many steps forward with a bit of nostalgia for the good of the past. Live it, love it.

January 3 First Friday Artwalk

Don’t give up your day job. Scott is a local foot doctor by day, funny guy at night. Victor Dubin, Matthew Quirk and Chree Powell round out the evening.

January 10 Peculiar People Day

We are all uniquely different. Unordinary, extraordinary, unusual, odd, intriguing and quirky. It’s a day to look for the good in our differences.

Kick off the year with the first art walk of the year. Added to the event will be a special interactive reception featuring our very own, Godzelda Destroys Salinas.

January 9 Beyond Cannery Row

A special talk and book signing by author Carol Lynn McKibben of her book “Beyond Cannery Row: Sicilian Women, Immigration, and Community in Monterey, California 1915-99.”

January 9 Josh Gondelman

A next gen series in Studio 105 featuring some of comedy’s finest, fresh young superstars making a name for themselves. Expect strong language and no topics being off limits.

January 18 Comedy Variety Show

The best local comedic acts performing various styles of comedy such as stand up, sketch, improv, and stories.

January 20-27

January 25-26 Whalefest

Tenth annual event. Family friendly interactive events, music and more. Two day symposium with lectures and documentaries related to ocean marine life and conservation.

Get Hooked

Restaurant week that aims to increase awareness about and access to local, sustainable seafood while rebuilding a viable future for Monterey Bay’s fishing community.

January 23 The Depths of the Sea

January 14 Dress Up Your Pet Day

Like people, some pets like to get dressed up. Others want nothing to do with it. Please don’t try this with the fish in your aquarium.

January 16-19 Big Sur Foraging Festival

Four days of foraging events and culinary delight. Benefit for the Big Sur Health Center.

January 17 Ditch Your Resolution Day

You made it seventeen days with your resolutions hanging heavy in your thoughts. Can you really last all year? Probably not. You get points for good intentions.

Artist Natalie Arnoldi’s work in a special exhibition. Her large scale oil paintings explore the fine line between abstract and figurative painting and the psychological effects of ambiguous representation.

January 25 Kate Warthen

Meet and greet the artist. Monterey Peninsula is her home base and favorite painting subject. The landscape from north to south, from Elkhorn Slough to Big Sur, is an endless source of inspiration and motivation.

January 25- February 8 Chinese New Year

Year of the Rat. The rat is the first of the zodiac animals and a sign of wealth and surplus in Chinese culture.

January 28 Fun at Work Day

Most jobs are not intended to be fun. It’s intended to get work done. You’re a very lucky person, if you can get work done and have fun doing it. That’s always been the job description here at Foolish Times.

January 30 Kosher Style Lunch

Best lunch ever! Corned beef and pastrami Cut thin and piled high. Don’t forget the baked goods.



The Best in Repurposed, Consignments, Vintage & Thrift!

SPCA BENEFIT SHOP Barnyard Shopping Village 26364 Carmel Rancho Ln. Carmel-By-The-Sea 831.624.4211

CAROUSEL CONSIGNMENT 490 Orange Ave Sand City 831.521.3672

WORKING MAN FURNITURE 10728 Merritt St Downtown Castroville 831.789.5901 FASHION TRADE BOUTIQUE 554 Lighthouse Ave Monterey 831.682.3740

January Featured Shop SPCA Benefit Shop

Shop for gorgeous furniture, boutique clothing, jewelry, unique gifts, houseware, art and more. Your support helps rescue pets and wildlife in Monterey County.

LAST CHANCE MERCANTILE 14201 Del Monte Blvd. Marina 831.384.5313

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Foolish Times January 2020