WIFE: I told him if anything happens to me, he should date other women. HUSBAND: I did exactly what she said. WIFE: I meant if I died! I was only stuck in traffic, you idiot!
2 \\ Foolish Times
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March 2020 // 3
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.
Contributors 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
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The Chucklehead Speaks They say the Irish are a lucky bunch. That is not totally true. I’m Irish and my luck has been pretty bad. If I believed in reincarnation, I’d probably come back as myself. My first wife left me, the second didn’t. When is my turn to have some sort of luck? What I am luck for, or more accurately, what am I grateful for? I live here and get to write humor. How bad can that be? I grew up on the mean streets in the Poconos Mountains where we were invaded by foreigners for third world countries like New Jersey and people from New York who talked funny. They came for the weekend, for the week and then they bought houses and moved in. It was brutal. The only thing good they brought was their pizza. I had a job in the Delaware Water Gap pumping gas. There was full service and mini service. One time, a car pulled up to the mini service pump and I heard the sound of the driver releasing the hood latch. I was familiar with this sound and it wasn’t going to end well. I knew this Jabroni wanted me to check his oil and didn’t want to pay for the service at the higher priced full service island. Hey, I’ve been around. I was sixteen and all grown up. So what did I do? I checked his oil and held up the dipstick like a fine bottle of wine. The jerk didn’t even know what he was looking at. Then he had the nerve to ask me for directions to a high end resort. What did I do? I gave him directions to get back on route 80 at the first intersection and look for signs. Where did that first intersection take him to? Back over the Delaware and through the toll to New Jersey where he belonged. And I wonder why I don’t have any luck…karma.
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March 2020 // 5
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6 \\ Foolish Times
Grocery Store Friendships // Gilly Spangler You woke up just late enough. Got there, did the job, it was a day. Maybe not the greatest, but a day nonetheless. Finallly...time to get home. Argh. This is the time of day when the sun hits the dirty windshield, making it hard to see. Argh. The thought of dinner looms, except there’s nothing at home. Time to brave the grocery store with everyone else shopping for dinner. Goody. But who knows, you might make another grocery store friend. Cart. Cart. Cart. Oh, cool, two together, right next to your car. Another woman (cool shoes, you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes) grabs the other. Here for dinner? Yeah, she answers, adding that she loves to wait until the aisles are ridiculously hard to navigate and the checkout lanes take forever. You laugh, yep. Dinnertime shopping rocks. She laughs. You tell her to have a good time, pushing a cart with a stupid wheel. Yep, what do you want to bet you’ve made a new grocery store friend?
Once inside the circus, you decide to just go ahead and get some other stuff. It’s not like you actually want to make dinner. Apparently it’s cheaper to shop for a lot at once. Hm on that one, since you tend to do the grocery shopping at dinnertime. Might as well throw in some staples. You can time the visit if you go to the dairy section first, wouldn’t want that yogurt to go bad! So there you are, getting a gallon, and butter just for good measure. And there she is, getting some wacky oat milk or something. Oat milk, you say, I just don’t know if I can go there. She laughs. Yes! You’ve absolutely made a new grocery store friend! Onto the yogurt. Greek? Nonfat? Expensive? Are you kidding? Big containers with clear lids. Big containers with cows. Who knows. But you look to your right, and there she is. Grabbing a $7 container. Hm, yep. Onto the produce. It’s always good to get too many fruits and vegetables so some of them can go bad. Apples, check. Bananas. Check. Grapefruit. Broccoli. Little bags of salad. You look to the left, just knowing. There she is, your new Grocery Store Friend, looking at salads with little bits and pieces hidden inside even smaller bags. You know, you say, spending on these is actually worth it, I mean what am I going to do with a whole kale plant. Your GSF agrees and you discuss the ins and outs of dried cranberries versus pine nuts Ahh. Time to get
down to business. You decide to meet up with your grocery store friend in the pasta aisle. Nothing like jars of pasta just waiting in the cabinet for days you don’t shop for dinner, although you probably already have one or two. Navigate the aisles. Wait for people parked mid aisle, say “beep, beep…” a few times. There she is! Looking at the pasta selection. She’s checking out the one that starts with an M. You know, it’s like hollow? And takes forever to cook? I like how it stands up at the bottom of the pan she says, laughing. So you get some too, because after all, you’re grocery store friends now. So we’re on the same page, in the same aisles so to speak. Dairy, produce, pasta. You decide to meet her in the cereal aisle next. Now for the bread, all the way across the store. Chaos abounds during a crowded dinner shop, navigating the aisle order isn’t worth the crappy wheel. You can’t wait to hang out with her again. You wonder if she likes wheat or maybe even rye. Wheat, you think. Cool, it’s your there she is, getting sourdough. You decide to grab some english muffins and plan your next hang out. Onward. You really push it now...try the chinese foods aisle to get some interesting noodles you’ll never cook. Hey. There she is. You admit you won’t actually try to make thai food, but hey, why not? She laughs. So crappy wheel, filling the cart, with the reusable bags in the trunk. You test your friendship one last time. Peanut butter. Yep. There she is, getting some orange marmalade. Ok, you think, time for the checkout aisle meetup. You choose, oh whatever, they’re all long and slow. And lo and behold, there she is, right behind you, your grocery store friend. You laugh and tell her about it, even the peanut butter aisle test and she’s kind of looking at the tabloids. Well, I wanted to tell you those are great shoes...you leave the parking lot before she does. That was cool, you made another grocery store friend. Next time you’re going out of the box and trying the lame sports drink aisle, because yes, your next grocery store friend will be there too, probably checking out the blue ones.
Yep. She eats Count Chocula. For some reason, this impresses you.”
March 2020 // 7
MARCH was a more undesirable month in olden times. It was March’s mad changeability that made many tuck in their upper lip. Bini says, instead look to its twilight at midday, its rainbow mists, its late winter shadows that cloak a crumbling bullnose that changes to a rendezvous in a film noir. Aries: (Mar 21–Apr 19) The Ram A foolish March to the cherry blossom tree for you found no love full of glee. Your call echoes to the meadows, where is thee! What did you think all of your coming and going would create? A coming and going? Of course it did and so you stopped to fill up on Ghee. The fact for this setback is you prefer carefree, so open the Chablis. Taurus: (Apr 20–May 20) The Bull Your tail is showing! This giant smallness is in the ides of March. You are being superstitious. Oh, so unlike you, earthy beast, ask yourself this: why are you hiding your potential? Stuffing it into a cushion of mediocrity won’t make you sit taller. The only impending doom is the gloom you’ve been gathering in your bullish head. Go thee to the withdrawing room! Go on. Gemini: (May 21–Jun 20) The Twins A miss is as good as a mile! You act with indubious persuasion, but beneath that surface you are antagonized. You thought it a devil when in fact it was grandma with hotcakes and Kosher pickles. In your impetuousness an opportunity flashed before you and vanished. Cancer: (Jun 21–Jul 22) The Crab A golden key can open any door. A door on the boundary between winter and spring known as March. The only article holding you back is the abysmal lack of general knowledge on the subject of locksmiths. The combination lies only in a few turns sideways and jubilation well on its way. Click! Eureka!
Leo: (Jul 23–Aug 22) The Lion March hack ham comes in like a lion, goes out like a lamb! Surelya tussle of that mane will awaken your privilege to take what is yours with fang and claw and duly noted, to act as if it were there for the taking! Recall the small and feeble proverbs, the history that tries to ease the truth of a deathly demise. All is well that ends well... right? Virgo: (Aug 23–Sep 22) The Virgin We know you’re in there! We can you hear the dragonflies coughing. This carpet of yellow roses all over and underfoot won’t hide you for long. Clear this plastic pandemonium because a change is as good as a rest! Don’t be a pest where serenity is a quest. Give up inquiring forces and contemplate your navel’s crest. Libra: (Sep 23–Oct 22) The Scales Shutting down for you is as impossible as accepting that a woman’s place is in the home! Unless we speak of the home as the heart, well then, Woman’s work is never done, is it! Scorpio: (Oct 23 –Nov 21) The Scorpion As thick as thieves! Crimson, Burgundy, and Maroon, are your colors. They can enhance seasonal bravery for the places you are most suspicious of. No more droopy shoulders, this is just the antidote you need for the unyielding desire to fly alone. Roll up your sleeves past your ears, and share those secrets! Sagittarius: (Nov 22–Dec 21) The Archer A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush! You hate this phrase because you lost your arrow in the hydrangea bush. While fetching it, you broke your bow. Your attention went astray when you were concocting a plan for more than you ever aimed for before. Look at the Grouse?!
Capricorn: (Dec 22– Jan 19) The Goat Thought you might like to know there are more pet dogs in the USA then people in Britain. The hair of the dog is the best route at this juncture. A bit cliché perhaps, but it’s a waiting game. Waiting too is overused for certain urgent matters, but You may as well chill otherwise relief will be nil! Aquarius: (Jan 23–Feb 18) The Water-Carrier A drowning person will clutch at a frog. A ribbiting screech for help! Is this what you want? A pure act of desperation? It’s about mental fatigue for you Aquario. Your mouth is full of alphabet blocks jamming your jaw, roll out that dice and get your Speedo on and spring into a sublime thaw! Pisces: (Feb 19–Mar 20) The Fishes A fish rots from the head down! Your motives and methods only need a trifle of tinkering. Continue to dive up the river with your best shot! Watch out for the Bears intending to swallow your lot. Don’t be hasty, if others more desirable will have you not. Soon than later, you will be shoaling with a trot. So as a leader of the day, Happy Birthday! All aboard your treasured yacht!
THOUGHT I took an Uber to the bankruptcy court and named the driver as a creditor.
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BECKY THATCHER’S THOUGHTS I’m giving my wife and daughter everything!’ It’s saddening, thinking, realizing, this truth. “But Tom, I was talking about Tom. Smitten. That’s just a fine word, I’ve read it in those wonderful books by the Brontes. Smitten. I hate that I’m smitten by Tom. He’s such a... oh, he doesn’t know that he’s playing the fool so much of the time... but he has such... oh, I’m sure there’s a word for it, probably a bunch of words. If he weren’t such a show off, I’d ask that silly Sam Clemens, he does so love words, but he’s so busy trying to be witty that he never considers what anyone’s saying to him, he’s so wrapped up making up new names for himself, S. Langford Clemens, Sam’l. L. Clemens, and so on, and making smarty-pants remarks in school and church, that he’s plumb missing reality. “But Tom, I was talking about Tom. PENINSULA COLLEGE He... maybe it’s because of losing his dear mother and father, oh, I’d be just devastated if I were to lose either of my parents; but both, oh, I just don’t think I could go on. But I think, sometimes, when I’m just falling
“Boys!” Rebecca stamped her foot and looked away, past the big river, east towards its opposite shore. She sighed, and straightened the apron over her gingham dress. “They’re so busy trying to be interesting that they won’t stop and even listen to themselves, let alone to anyone else. “Take Tom. Oh, I do feel truly sorry for him, being an orphan and all. I’m so fortunate, coming from a good... all right, the best family in town. Because my father had opportunities and took advantage of them, for his family, he says, so we can have the best of everything, so we can have opportunities he never got but had to make for himself. “But I suddenly realized, and oh, it shook me terribly, he did it, did everything, for himself... and we just benefit from it... and even that, why it’s really just another reward for himself: ‘Look,
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asleep or just awakening, that he acts so... so dramatic, to make up for being alone. Oh, yes, his aunt, Miss Polly, does more for him than he realizes, but she’s not his real mother, nor could she be, what with being a spinster and therefore, well, not fulfilled as a woman. “And now that I’m a woman... and Tom’s still a boy... but, oh, my, he seemed so manly when we were lost in the cave, lost, and perhaps that terrible Injun Joe there, too. Tom just rose to the demands, to the... well, we could have died, lost forever, and he seemed to grow up right before me, and he saved us, and always treated me with respect. “And then he runs off with Huck and we all think he’s drowned and I cried and cried. “But, oh, that Huck. I don’t want to tell you how he makes me feel. Lawdy!”
He’s so busy trying to be witty that he never considers what anyone’s saying to him.”
March 2020 // 9
The Adult Sibling Immaturity Club // Debbie Harris
I went to my friend’s mother’s 80th birthday party. After the main celebration, my fifty-one year-old friend’s forty-nine year-old brother brought a daisy to his sister, forcefully shoved it in her face, and said, “Smell this!” She pushed his arm away and flipped him off. Such is the nature of siblings. We may be adults, but our maturity level sinks when we are around our siblings. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’ve watched my adult sons punch each other and call each other names several times. I started to say something motherly about brotherly love to them, but the older one said not to worry about it. I had to just accept the Adult Sibling Immaturity Club. I hadn’t thought about adult siblings too much until I saw my punching sons, but I should have
known that sibling taunts don’t really ever end. My brother and I are both grandparents (his oldest granddaughter is twenty-three) and he and I still refer to each other as “Booger Brother” and “Snot Sister,” terms that came into being at some point during our childhood. In my opinion, Booger Brother was a well-deserved name. Being five years older than me, my brother had the advantage when we were kids. I remember once, I hit my leg on the living room coffee table and was crying in pain. My brother saw me and asked,” Do you want to stop thinking about the pain in your leg?” Wow, he seemed to care and he wanted to help me. “Yea,” I said pitifully. So he punched me in the arm. I had to fault him for false advertising. The pain in my arm didn’t really stop me from thinking about the pain in my leg. Last year when we were at the bank with our mother implementing a change in her accounts to coincide with her Trust, the bank attendant started the “children’s” signatures with my brother. “See,” he taunted. “I got to go first,” he smirked. I paused, not about to
In my opinion, Booger Brother was a welldeserved name.”
let that comment go unanswered. “Only insecure people need to go first,” I responded. The bank attendant laughed; mom rolled her eyes. Mom can roll her eyes about us, but she’s a member of the Adult Sibling Immaturity Club too. About twenty years ago, when mom was in her late sixties and her sister was in her late fifties, her sister came to CA from NY to visit. My aunt still lives in the small NY town where mom grew up, so she keeps mom up to date on local/family news. Mom and her sister were talking about an elderly aunt who’d recently passed away. My aunt quoted the elder’s age in the conversation. Mom corrected her. They went back and forth about this deceased aunt’s age. “Her daughter said she was eithy-nine,” said my aunt. “She was ninety-two!” returned my mom. They went back and forth for a while about why the age they quoted was right, until, I guess, they gave up in frustration. Later mom had to be sure she told me that her sister didn’t have the correct information and that she was right. In honor of the Adult Sibling Immaturity Club, I have to note that March is the birth month of my one and only sibling. So Happy Birthday, Davey!!! Hahahahahahaha! I called you Davey and you don’t like it and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s in print. Hahahahahahaha! Neaner, neaner. Ahem, I’m an adult—and part of the Adult Sibling Immaturity Club.
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DILLIGS?! // Mary Tompsett
Prep H and Bad Tamales Found: A scrap of paper on the floor of a public building, with “cat treets” and “tub of Prep H” scribbled in a shaky hand. Oh, my. This was so upsetting that I snorted the contents of a dusty pheromone diffuser that I bought years ago to calm my dog. Is the writer still wandering the store aisles hunting in vain for items that match the misspellings? Or are there actual “Treets” in the pet section? Did Prep H packaging really go from tubes to tubs?? I imagine it sucks to run out. Did the person leave the store frustrated and empty handed? As a result, was she savagely clawed in her sleep by a cat demanding its midnight snack? And she needed how many stitches? Likewise, without that Prep H, did a sudden urge to take a 30-mile bike ride come to a fiery end, so to speak? A rabbit hole like this gives my life meaning, and I left the list with the store’s Lost and Found. Speaking of being lost and foundering, welcome to DILLIGS (“Does It Look Like I Give a Sh*t?!). Despite what you’ve heard about my style of spiritual guidance, I was never a nun. That rumor started with a bad haircut. QUESTION: I got really sick after eating two of the three tamales I bought. Was it food poisoning or just the flu? Should I complain to the store? DILLIGS: First, check to see if any toxic runoff from the wrapper has eaten through your garbage bin. If all is okay, then either you had the flu or you were poisoned by microbes who gave up plastic for Lent. So, before you prance in to bitch at the store manager, dig out that third tamale (from the garbage, the fridge, or still on the coffee table) and eat it. See if you get sick again. Yeah, I’m really good at this. You may kiss the ring now.
1) Should a pedestrian walking out in traffic expect drivers to stop? 2) How do you celebrate St Patrick’s Day?
QUESTION: There was another Big Foot sighting, and it seems believable. What’s your take on it? DILLIGS: The myth is getting old. Literally. It’s been over 200 years since the first sighting, and by now we should’ve conquered and converted entire tribes! For many years we’ve seen grainy video of the same seven-foot dude lurching through the forest. Okay, maybe we found some tufts of hair on the bark of a tree. Big whoopee. We’re way overdue for a few Mommy-Foot hair clumps, easily identified by the foam hair rollers and bobby pins still on them. And a two-century parade of Senior-Foots would surely have left behind a few skeletons draped over rusty walkers with rotting tennis balls. No sightings of that? Drones could be the answer! We might be surprised to see a tribe of Average Footers—some short, or fat, bald, or stupid, all caught dumpster diving at a 24/7 McDonald’s in Santa Cruz. QUESTION: I hate when people ask if I have kids. Any tips? DILLIGS: Men, say with an eye roll: “Four, I think. Ask my wife. Isn’t small talk just a hoot??” Women, stare off into space and whisper, “Not to my knowledge. But I did have some...blackouts.”
3) Do you buy Girl Scout Cookies?
Bob #1 1) I stop all the time for pedestrians. Some of them seem to take delight in lingering when crossing. I saw a dog stop to poop in the middle of the street and the owner stared at it but didn’t pick it up. Gross. 2) I have one green beer. I like beer but the color green is not natural. St Patrick‘s color was blue. 3) The boxes keep getting smaller and the price keeps going up. The only time I hear about Girl Scouts is when they guilt me in front of a grocery store to buy their cookies. I feel bad for their moms.
Robert 1) I got cursed at by a guy who was on his phone and walked out in front of me when I had the right of way. I saw him before he saw me. I parked my car and walked up to him and punched him. I didn’t want to dent my car. 2) I love holidays. I open up a beer first thing in the morning and watch the parade on TV. My wife allows me to do this once a year. I don’t think the Irish really live like that but if they do, we’re in the wrong country. 3) Caramel Delights and the Tagalong’s are my favorites. All the kids I know who used to sell cookies have grown up so now I have to seek them out.
Roberta 1) I don’t drive fast and always come to a complete stop. I notice people just march off the curb like the street is a continuation of the sidewalk. Someone is going to get hurt. 2) I wear a green shamrock pin once a year. No one is going to pinch me. 3) I was a Girl Scout. I still love thin mints but too many have not kept me thin.
Bob #2 1) I don’t drive. Cars don’t stop when they should. I cursed at a guy once for almost running me over. Later, he walked up to me and punched me in the face. 2) I like corned beef and cabbage. Driving the snakes out of Ireland? Someone came up with a great story after a few shots and beers. Ireland is too cold for snakes. 3) I don’t have any addictions and don’t need one at this point in my life.
March 2020 // 11
A WHOLE LOT OF SHAKING GOING ON I was at work at the P.O one night, sorting flats, when I suddenly felt the floor drop out from under me! Ever ride one of those high-speed elevators that scrambles your head and throws you off kilter when it stops? This sensation was worse. My knees actually buckled, and I had to grab hold of the flat sorting case to steady myself. I thought: earthquake! I turned to several co-workers standing close to me. “Did you FEEL that?” I said. I saw only puzzled expressions, heads shaking. None of them had felt anything! Really??? I glanced around the workplace, but discerned no reactions or remarks from anybody else. It was as if nothing had happened. Had there been an actual tremor that night, someone besides me would surely have noticed it. Could I have imagined it? Episodes of vertigo had plagued me on and off for years. Perhaps this was one of them! But wait, it gets better! Sometime afterwards, a 4.9 quake struck our area in earnest. It originated
north of us, some 30 miles south-west of Gilroy, but Salinas and the Peninsula both felt it. According to reports, the ground swayed for 20 seconds. Again, I was at work, standing exactly where I’d been weeks earlier when I had my false alarm. I heard what sounded like a truck backing into the loading dock, which was something that occurred every day, so I ignored it. This time, my co-workers were the ones looking all around, asking, “Did you FEEL that????” “Who, me???” I said . “I didn’t feel a thing!” The tremor was so strong that Jann called me from home to see if I was all right. I assured her I was, and wouldn’t have known anything had happened if folks at work hadn’t made such a ruckus about it. She described the rocking and the jolts where she was. Thankfully, nothing in our house had toppled over, although a couple of items did come perilously close. I tried to set Jann’s mind at ease by reminding her that our installation had evacuation procedures in place for earthquakes, fires and bio-hazards. However, I (on purpose) neglected to mention that no such measures had been
initiated that night. Several workers ran outside into the parking lot anyway as a safety precaution. I didn’t. One guy in particular, a notoriously outspoken critic of workplace policies, was deeply incensed that no one in charge had sounded an alarm to clear the premises. “You see this?” he said, bending way over and grabbing his cheeks firmly with both hands. (I thought he was going to start talking through his butt like Jim Carrey.) “I love this too much to let any danger come to it, and I ain’t waitin’ for a supervisor to tell me its okay to protect myself. If people want to laugh, let them! It’s my ass!” There’s such a thing, I believe, as being overly accustomed to the flaws and fluctuations of our planet. Or so acclimated to one’s own internal spasms, that he can no longer distinguish one warped reality from another. If there’s any benefit to being naturally loopy and off-center, it’s that the outer world seems oddly stable by comparison. I dread the day when the earth wobbles more than I do!
If people want to laugh, let them! It’s my ass!”
12 \\ Foolish Times
SOAP OPERAS, MAGIC & POLITICS One of the items to stay clear from writing about is politics. But I can’t help it this time because our politics are like soap operas as every week something different comes up and it is entertaining. For instance in one of the parties, a lot of people were running for the presidential nomination. Then there was a debate in which they not only attacked the opponent from another party but they also attacked their own political party opponents. Then a rich party member started to advertise his political ideas on TV and other social media platforms that he would also run for the nomination. This gentleman came to the last debate with his fellow party competitors. When the debate started, they didn’t address any issues; instead they all turned and attacked him. I guess they did not care for any more competition in their own race for best nominee in their party for president. As the world turns, what happens next? Will the new entrée stay in the race or pull out?
Will he run home crying to his mommy that the bigger kids were bullying him? Stay tuned to find out!! Another item in the soap opera was that when the results of the first couple of states came in, they were shocked as to who was in the lead. The results were totally unexpected. Since the early results, other states have come in with more expected results. There are a whole bunch of states that haven’t voted in the primaries yet and the rich nominee will probably be on the ballot, so stayed tuned as things may change week by week in this soap opera. Who will come out in the finals is a mystery and what bad news each nominee will dig up on their opponent will be interesting to hear. They have already reaching back years to find out anything dirty that will shoot down the opposition. If this was a TV soap opera I would have to give the writers and producers an award for making it very interesting, but this is not a fiction regular soap opera, it is actually a reality soap opera. It is strange that no one in his own party with any big
political name or business clout is going up against the President. I suppose that the only people that might have a chance in the President’s party would be a famous actors like Clint Eastwood, Chuck Norris, Jessica Simpson, Homer Simpson, Tim Allen, Bruce Willis, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Candace Cameron Burr just to name a few. After all, this is a soap opera. One more thing, there is magic involved in this election just like in the old TV series “Charmed” where there are three witches (Piper, Phoebe and Paige) practicing magic. There seems to be several warlocks and witches in this election that are promising a lot of free stuff without any increase in taxes. Where is the money going to come from for all the free stuff? Magic dust? Sleight of hand? It’s not like we hardly pay any taxes now for what the government provides. We only pay state and federal income tax, property tax, annual car registration fees, road and bridge toll fees and social security taxes just to name a few. So continue watching this soap opera and the magic of the “Charmed Ones” featuring the politicians that promises all kinds of free stuff if they get elected. It’s going to be very interesting for the next year.
There seems to be several warlocks and witches in this election that are promising a lot of free stuff.”
March 2020 // 13
Mira, WOW! // Daria James
A Day in the Life... Hello again my faithful readers, March has International Women's Day, I am a woman, I am going to talk about it. On this day, we get to look back and celebrate our gender's accomplishments, from voting to medical discoveries, literature, math, movies and quality of life in general. I would like to encourage you to reflect and take a moment to thank the women who have fought and continue to defend our rights and liberties. One of the awesome activities of International Women's day is arguing with some men who complain about men not having an international men's day. If you are that guy, go.... grab a book, any book, men's day is every flipping day, especially in those countries where women are still denied basic rights. Yeah, I said it, but most of all I meant it! On a similar note, if you are a woman who takes the right to vote for granted, go with that guy and check out a book about how awesome it was to not vote or own property. Those were not the days if you ask me. When I visited Colonial Williamsburg, they had actors dressed up as the people who used to live and work there. Women were not living it up, and even thought that was the 1600's a lot of those outdated sexist mentalities continue to prevail. Look, I am not saying we should go to the extreme and strongly dislike men. All I am saying is I am glad I was born in modern times and I am able to attend college, get a good job and be my own sugar daddy if I choose to. Sure I am married, but I did not get married
because I needed to, I did it for love. If this ever goes belly up, I will be fine, although at this point, it is cheaper to keep him. That is the kind of things women before me worked for and I salute you. Ideally, men and women should embrace their differences and work together, we are the human race but we should work as a team instead of against each other. We could be a better civilization, one that the aliens would like to visit and hang out with. I do not know what sounded sillier, the part where we work together or the alien part. Sadly, I think a more advance creature will come to talk to us before men and women stop fighting like we currently do. Thank the women in your life, not just on the special days, and please let them enjoy their day. Do not ask HOW COME MEN DON'T HAVE A DAY?! Also, not all women are crazy, just the ones you like to date, because you have a type and probably mom issues. Those of us who are still sane can tell these things, and women, please do not try to "fix him" you cannot straighten a crooked tree. I look forward to your emails.
Also, not all women are crazy, just the ones you like to date, because you have a type and probably mom issues.”
And now, a double Haiku because I do what I want:
If you are cooking: eyes on the rice. If you are making margaritas: eyes on the lime. If you are a poet: eyes on the rhyme. If you are drinking a milkshake: eyes on the straw. If you are eating donuts: eyes on the waist line. If you are in Florida: eyes on the key lime pie. Alabama-Florida line! If you are still reading this Every Saturday morning article: eyes rolling back. My Microsoft Word trial expired, writing on Notepad. I'm working on being a poet. Now you know it. The rhymes are out of the bag. The bag is a nice brand. also streaming on www.shagbagshow.com I am a Mexi.CAN!
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I Wonder... // Charles Birimisa On occasion, from time to time, an involuntary thought will happen taking me back to living in a campus dormitory; to a time and place; a relatively short period of time - two and a half years. And I will think of interactions I had with various individuals, few whose names I can remember and many whose names I do not. I wonder what happened to them. Where are they now? For instance I can recall being in the dorm lounge/TV room watching the beginning of the Super Bowl between the New England Patriots and the Chicago Bears. An exotic young woman joined me watching the game and we chatted briefly. For a time it was only the two of us watching the game. Then a few more people came in, and she left, and I not too soon after. Why have I never forgotten that? A year later in the TV/lounge at another nearby dorm which I had moved to, I chatted with a student who did not like Long Beach. He said he was from Buffalo, New York and from what I
could gather he would not be coming back to the University next semester. I have never forgotten this and wonder what happened to him. I didn’t get his name, as well as the young lady from the Super Bowl. I remember one evening walking from the University Library and near where the busses came, talking with a man who reminded me of Martin Luther King Jr. For several minutes we spoke about Jesus Christ. Then I walked back to the Commons. Another student, whose name I once knew - Keith? - started a conversation as I read the newspaper in the Library. Later he worked at the entrance of Commons cafeteria checking ID’s during lunch and dinner hours. We spoke frequently. He was from Michigan and wanted to be an actor. Once we were talking as the suited up dorm manger schmoozed at tables with students as they ate. Keith said he was “two faced,” which sparked a chuckle.. Then for a time I did not see Keith, until I ran into him after a class, where walking by I noticed, he was giving a speech in.
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We spoke for a short time and said he was close to graduating, and maybe going into teaching as he pursued an acting/singing career. I remember Keith as being down to earth, friendly, witty, very funny. I never saw him again, and wonder what happened to him. And what happened to the long haired kid who, on the first day checking into the dorms, drove of few of us to a nearby Taco Bell for lunch? And the two young ladies from Eureka who hung out with Ed, (my second roommate) and me one Friday night. And Tina from Walnut Creek, who gave me a ride as she saw me walking from Target carrying two large bags. Later, I lent her the Purple Rain cassette, and, believe it or not she returned it. And there was Melody, across the hall from Tracy, who was pals with Sue. And Rosalva, from Glendale, and Beatriz from L.A., who lived upstairs who hung out with my first roommate Mark and me. And John, my second roommate, a smoking night owl. And Ron, another roommate who cranked “She Sells Sanctuary” up enough I thought the building would explode. And Tricia, and her friend Patty, who was a Robert Palmer fan. And of course, last but not least, whatever happened to Rosalie. From time to time I wonder what happened to these people (and there are more) who remain carved into memory. Then I think of other things, time passes until years later, thoughts of them happen again.
And what happened to the long haired kid who, on the first day checking into the dorms, drove of few of us to a nearby Taco Bell for lunch?
March 2020 // 15
Four blondes and a redhead were hanging on a rope twenty stories high. They realized it was too much weight for the rope to hold them and one of them had to get off. They argued and argued and finally the redhead said ‘’I’ll go.’’ Then the redhead made a touching speech and all the blondes clapped.
Why did the blonde put empty beer bottles in the fridge? For the people who don’t drink.
Rochelle, a blonde in her third year as a CSUMB freshman, sat in her US government class. The professor asked her if she knew what Roe vs. Wade was about. She pondered the question then finally said, “That was the decision George Washington had to make before he crossed the Delaware.”
A blonde got a deck of playing cards as a gift but she couldn’t find anyone to play solitaire with.
Did you hear about the blonde who got into the taxi, and the driver kept the “Vacant” sign up?
After 25 years of marriage, I took a look at my wife and said, “Honey, 25 years ago, we had a cheap apartment, a cheap car, slept on a sofa bed and watched a 10-inch black-and-white TV, but I got to sleep every night with a hot 25-year-old blonde. Now, we have a nice house, a nice car, a big bed and a big-screen smart TV, but I’m sleeping with a 50-year-old woman. It seems to me that you’re not holding up your side of things.” My wife is a very reasonable woman. She told me to go out and find a hot 25-year-old blonde, and she’d make sure that I would once again be living in a cheap apartment, driving a cheap car and sleeping on a sofa bed.
How do you know when a blonde has a brain fart? Her ears flap.
Why did the blonde think it was Sunday? Because the sun was out.
Hear about the blonde that got an AM radio? It took her a month to realize she could play it at night.
Three blondes are sitting on a park bench eating ice cream cones. One is sucking hers, one is biting hers and the other is licking hers. Which one is married? The one wearing the wedding ring.
Jim walked into my office and saw me looking depressed. He asked, “Hey, what’s with that long face?” I said, “My wife hired a new secretary for me.” Jim asked, “So what? Is she blonde?” I replied, “He’s bald.”
How did the blonde burn her nose? Bobbing for french fries.
While passing an office building late one night, a blonde saw a sign that said, “Press bell for night watchman.” She did so, and after several minutes she heard the watchman clomping down the stairs. He proceeded to unlock the gate, shut down the alarm system, and finally made his way through the revolving door. “Well,” he snarled at the blonde, “what do you want?” “I just want to know why you can’t ring the bell for yourself.”
Did you hear about the blonde student at MPC who brought her cosmetics with her for a make-up exam?
How can you tell when a blonde been using your computer? There is cheese by the mouse.
Why can’t you tell blondes knock-knock jokes? Because they leave to go answer the door.
What is every blonde’s ambition in life? To be like Vanna White and learn the alphabet.
A blonde ran into a truck on Del Monte Ave. I made her pull over in a parking lot and get out of the car. I proceeded to take a piece of chalk and drew a circle on the pavement and told her to stand in the middle and not leave the circle. Furious, I went over to her car and slashed the tires. She started laughing. This made me angrier so I smashed her windshield. This time she laughed even harder. Livid, I broke all her windows and keyed her car. The blonde is now laughing hysterically, so I asked her what’s so funny. She giggles and replies, “When you weren’t looking, I stepped out of the circle three times!”
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Call me traditional, but marriage should stay between a woman afraid of being alone and a man who finally caves after years of her pressure.
My new boyfriend told me he wanted to take me to one of his favorite places so I dressed up. It was a Bass Pro Shop.
Not long after I returned from my honeymoon, my dad met me for lunch at Rosine’s. “Well son, how is married life treating you?” “Not very well, I’m afraid. It seems that I married a nun.” “A nun”, my dad asked. “That’s right. None of the time unless I beg.”
My dad nodded knowingly, “Why don’t we all get together for a nice talk tonight?” Tom’s face brightened. “That’s a great idea Dad.” “Great. I’ll call and tell Mother Superior to set two extra plates.”
One day, some guy is going to see me eating a whole rotisserie chicken with my bare hands in my parked car and think “That’s her, she’s the one.”
My wife left me yesterday, saying our relationship felt too much like work. I just wish she had given me two weeks of notice.
I loaned my girlfriend a hundred dollars. Three years later when I broke up with her, she returned exactly one hundred dollars. I guess I just lost interest in that relationship.
Marriages are made in heaven. Then again, so are thunder, lightning, tornados and hail.
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When we were first married, I would come home from work, my wife would bring my slippers and our cute little dog would run around barking. Now after ten years it’s all-different. I come home, the dog brings the slippers and my wife runs around barking.
Statistics say that one out of three people in a relationship are unfaithful. I just need to work out if that’s my wife or my girlfriend. A good way to get to know your date is to ask about their first pet, favorite movie & mom’s maiden name, then login & read all their emails.
My husband-to-be and I were at the Monterey County Clerk’s Office for our marriage license. After recording the vital information—names, dates of birth and all the other required information, the clerk handed me our license and aid, “No refunds, no exchanges, no warranties.”
My boyfriend does this cute thing where he files for a restraining order.
Soon after we were married, my husband stopped wearing his wedding ring. I asked, “Why don’t you ever wear your wedding band?” He replied, “It cuts off my circulation.” I answered back, “It’s supposed to!”
I went on a date recently and the guy took me horseback riding. That was kind of fun, until we ran out of quarters.
Her: So, tell me about yourself. Him: well, I’m not good with dates. Her: But you’re doing fine. Him: Christmas is on September 3rd
I dated a hypnotist once. She was the hottest, smartest, skinniest, funniest, kindest, most glamorous and sophisticated woman I’ve ever met.
March 2020 // 17 RATED
S Y O TR
Written and Illustrated by Dana B. Larrabee Episode 16 dalar firstname.lastname@example.org "Dr. Quayle and Bloody Mary" 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 despite Army tank fire, the creature escapes clutching 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, and just as Monster Mart’s Grand Opening commences he learns from Felicia Nicely how Lester Krasse defrauded the company. She asks him to find Krasse and get her money back, so Neil sets off for Monster Mart in the Kharman Ghia he and his father restored...
Neil drove around the mega-mall frantically searching for a parking space. He turned up the radio just as Tommy Kaye relinquished the microphone to Mr. Monster. “First, I want to personally welcome each and every one of you to Monster Mart,” drawled the C.E.O. “And I’m glad to see so many are already taking advantage of the genuine bargains here at prices my competitors say are, well, monstrous....” While Mr. Monster droned on, Neil noticed a bright yellow “Loading Zone” marker on the curb. There will be no deliveries today with this crowd, he thought. I’ll just park here and unload myself! Cautiously, he drew the newly restored Kharman Ghia curbside. He pulled the keys from the ignition and dashed for the store entrance, almost colliding with a slender balding man wearing wire rimmed spectacles and a gray suit. “Excuse me,” Neil apologized. He picked up the briefcase dropped by the startled man and handed it back. “Why, thank you,” he said. “Doctor Vernon Quayle is my name. But I must run. I’m terribly late for my appointment with Mr. Krasse.” “Glad to know you, Doctor. I’m Neil Scallopini and I need to see that Krasse guy myself.” The doctor started to respond, when a heavy-set man in a khaki security uniform pulled him aside. “You Dr. Quayle?” The little man nodded and the security guard signalled his partner inside, who communicated with someone else by walkie-talkie. “Dr. Quayle, I’m Calvin McGraber with Store Security. Krasse needs you to attend to Godzelda immediately.” The other officer joined them. “You’ll come with us please.” “Hey, what’s going on?” Neil inquired. But before the startled veterinarian could reply, the security guards led him away. Neil watched them disappear into the throng. High above, a row of giant-screen TV’s showed Malcolm D. Monster addressing the audience. #16-25
COPYRIGHT 2019 BY DANA B. LARRABEE ALL SLIGHTS DESERVED
“You’ll never... ever... be overcharged for anything in my stores,” he promised. “Because we scare up bargains from all over! And as long as there’s a real Monster in charge, whatever you want, you get it for less here at Monster Mart.” Krasse nervously sucked on a cigarette while watching the crowd applaud Mr. Monster’s remarks. Peterson gently tapped him on the shoulder. “We can breathe easy now,” he said. “Security’s located Dr. Quayle.” The TV screen clouded in the plume of smoke Krasse exhaled with relief. “Fantastic! This is going to be great!” The applause faded and Mr. Monster continued. “I’m the first monster you’ll see today. But you all came to see another one, I know-- Godzelda T. Rex.” At this point, the two security men arrived with Dr. Quayle. “I-I’m sorry to be so late,” he stammered. “My radiator boiled over en route.” “Just hurry up and give her the usual dose, will ya, Doc?” Krasse implored. “Curtain goes up any minute!” “Of course, of course,” replied the vet agreeably. “I’ll prepare the injection immediately.” Krasse turned his attention to the monitor screen which showed Mr. Monster in close-up. “Now some of you may see this magnificent beast,” he said, “as a tremendous failure because her kind all died out. However, I’m told these fantastic creatures did in fact flourish and dominate our planet for quite awhile, actually...” Neil followed the herd of shoppers and gawkers to the central area of the mega-mall where Mr. Monster was speaking. Off to one side, a security guard stood at his post. It was Calvin McGraber. Neil thought he might try talking to Krasse before they unveiled the creature. “I don’t care who you are,” McGraber told him. “No one sees Krasse now. You’ll have to wait ‘til after the show.”
There was nothing else to do, so Neil took a seat next to an athletic brunette wearing bright aqua shorts, a white blouse and running shoes. He recognized her from school; Mary Contreras, one of several girls on the track team he used to belong to. “Bloody Mary” some of the guys called her. Neil hoped she wouldn’t recognize him, but of course she did. “Hello, Neil. Where you been?” she asked brightly. “Haven’t seen you at practice.” “Been restoring a car with my Dad,” Neil explained. “And I got a job after school.” “So I heard. Over at Icily Nicely, right?” “Yeah. Sounds like you know all about me.” “I wouldn’t say all.” She smiled coyly. “You dating Felicia?” “Yes--- Uh, no, I mean, no,” he stammered. “You don’t sound too sure of yourself. Are you or aren’t you?” “We’ve gone out for burgers a couple of times,” Neil admitted. “No big deal.” Shrieks from the two small girls seated beside him interrupted. They were squabbling over the remains of the Monster Shake they’d been sharing. Their Granddad hushed them and strained to hear Mr. Monster. “Truth is, dinosaurs were very successful as a life-form,” Tommy went on. “I mean, they hung in there for over a hundred-forty-million years. While we human-types have only been around a measly two-million. So compared to Godzelda, we’re a bunch of regular Johnny-comelatelys....” Next issue:
Episode 17 The Big Shot
All previous episodes available at www.foolishtimes.net
18 \\ Foolish Times
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March 2020 // 19
The Busking Heritage // Michael Houston
Saint Patrick’s Day in the Gutter and the Loving Irish I am you and you are me and we are all something or other. It’s said that for the Irish history and song are one. Okay, but are the Irish? A few short centuries of diaspora and, as an English friend observed; “All the Irish people I meet are Americans, Canucks, or Aussies” Identity politics is difficult for some folks, but not for the truly confused. In the 70s, Chincanos we’re NOT Hispanics. until they had to drop that plan to get jobs, divorces, and kids like everybody else…Scared the bejaysus out of the fella on Pennsylvania Avenue though! Now, Afro-Caribbean, Great Migration survivors, and Blacks, are like the “Irish”. They can be as one, unless they’re competing for roles in Hollywood or Super Bowl rings.
the thing (Thanks for rigging JFK’s election, Mayor Daley. God’s own curse on you for beating down the nonviolent peace demonstrators at the ‘68 convention and helping Nixon’s FBI gun down panthers with breakfast programs.) Least Of The Best And Most Of The Worst Sure the old ways are forgotten. The Irish Republican car bombers are suddenly respectable over in the Old Sod since they promised free water service, fixing the housing crisis, and a peaceful united Ireland cherishing all of the children of the nation equally. My cousin’s also got a bridge for sale near Brooklyn.
Whisky was invented to prevent the Irish from conquering the world and Guinness was invented to get them off the gin.”
We’re On The One Road, Maybe The Wrong Road, But We’re Together Anyhow All claims to “Irishness” leave one insecure and doubtful. The city Jackeens look down on the Culchee country people. Viola! Cross the Wild Atlantic, fill slums, and create the Gangs of News York and elsewhere. Fight to become hoodlums. Then on certain St. Valentine’s Day some Sicilians got a marketing opportunity. Into the dustbin of history, gangster Paddy! Did Your Granny Speak Irish? – An Oral History No, but my long departed neighbor Neal’s granny smoked a clay pipe, survived the trip west and betrayed the noble, penniless, filthy, ignorant, sick, starving, and ugly traditions of pauperism for the pottage of indoor plumbing, and three-squaremeals-a-day. Swim the Swamps Sure, nobody’s really Irish American anymore. Once they let that JFK millionaire get elected President at of the United States we lost our right to victimhood when we put on the most highly attended inaugural parade since Macy’s started
Whisky, You’re The Devil Whisky was invented to prevent the Irish from conquering the world and Guinness was invented to get them off the gin. Eighth century monks did contribute to literacy during the Dark Ages, and my friend Benny dedicated years counseling African torture victims to help overcome crippling disabilities and PTS, but the soul-twin and deep eyes of a true brother turned out to be a torturer rather than a torture victim. History and Song Are One It’s all love and happiness. Like when Danny Boy comes back to where the hot chic is in her grave to say an Ave over her. Morbid? Nonsense! It’s folk tradition, like, “Always remember the longer you live, the sooner you’re going to die.” So now the “Irish” take credit for all the die for love ballads in blue grass, but we deny it and blame it on guiltridden Scots-Irish, colonial invaders who wearied of genociding Catholics to come over and target the Cherokee et al. in Appalachia. Complicated?
All We Need is What? The Liverpudlians were right when they said, “All you need is love.” Just wake up some spring morning with a bad head like everybody else and think, “Let’s end war and racism, finish famine, stop abusing Mother Earth. Do unto others far better than we actually do ourselves. Love Jihadists Wanted!!! Love lives. So all youse fanatics: Hindis, Prunetuckyians, Zionists, RCs, Prods, Limeys, Buddhists, Baathists, Sufis, and Palestinians, etc. must become Love Jihadists © . Live love! Love is hot! Murder sucks. Bali Bombers now think that beach-bombing, maiming, blinding, and orphan-making was a lousy idea. The cops in Indonesia refrained from torturing them and let them think it over. Better late than never for a change of heart. Be Your Best © Follow the teachings of the world’s first universally practiced religion, capitalism. Strive for commercial, spiritual, and self-image fulfillment. Be better than everybody else! Be kind to everyone, regardless of their incredibly idiotic opinions about following authoritarian leaders and watching out for parking meters. Buy things at Monterey’s Farmers Markets and keep track of Happy Hours so you can give the hospitality staff at least a 20% gratuity.
20 \\ Foolish Times
SHOUT OUT Think Before You Throw it Away Editor’s note: Earth Day is April 22, 2020. This story was originally scheduled to be published in the April issue, but every day without recycling is a lost opportunity. At Whalefest 2020, I stopped by a booth featuring recycling to ask one of my regular recycling questions: “Are California lottery scratchers recyclable?” I got a sheet of paper illustrating that paper with metallic coating is not recyclable. Studying the sheet at home, I saw more information I already learned before. PLASTIC BAGS AND FILM Plastic bags and film plastic do not belong in curbside plastic recycling bins. Target stores have collection bins. Plastic wrappers are everywhere. They cover paper boxes of tea, individual bags of tea, paper boxes of soap, individual bars of soap, and fortune cookies. SNACK WRAPPERS I have known that snack food and shiny metallic wrappers cannot be put in the recycling bin. I read on a potato chip bag that they can be recycled at places that accept them. This year, I stopped by REI in Marina and saw a collection bin (in a program with Subaru/TerraCycle) for these kinds of snack wrappers. I was so happy! The first time I saw snack food wrapper recycling was last year in downtown Philadelphia, at a natural grocery store called MOM’s Organic Market. I had not known about it and therefore did not pack snack wrappers to travel to Pennsylvania. I had been subconsciously keeping them around the house. Now, they will be dropped off in the county where I live, and I am grateful for that. HOUSEHOLD BATTERIES There are collection buckets at the Cesar Chavez Library in Salinas and the Monterey Public Library. I recently saw that Prunedale Library now was a disposal bin. I pick up batteries if I see them on the ground, as I know they are hazardous waste that need proper disposal.
NEW AND GENTLY USED SHOES DSW (closest location, in Salinas) collects for SOLES4SOULS. If you are a member of the rewards program, you get points for donations when you let the cashier know you are donating. APPAREL AND FOOTWEAR, IN ANY CONDITION North Face (closest store, Gilroy Outlets), through their Clothes the Loop program, takes shoes and apparel in any condition. The store offers a discount coupon with drop off. CLOTHES AND TEXTILES, IN ANY CONDITION H&M stores (closest stores, Salinas and Monterey) take kitchen, bath, and bedding items too, with a discount offered with drop off. SEEDS Instead of throwing them in the garden waste recycling bin, if you have good quality seeds from vegetables, fruit, flowers, and other things for the garden, the Monterey Public Library has a seed exchange program. I package and bring my seeds in unused envelopes I get in the mail. The program asks for seeds that are no more than two years old, non- GMO and non-hybridized. The library has instructions on how to save and dry seeds. Labeling with information of what they are, where they come from and when they were harvested will help the next grower. Donation of commercial seeds and money are always appreciated. BOOKS Little libraries in the neighborhoods are good places to share books, magazines, music, and movies. Downtown Book and Sound in Salinas has an expansive collection of new and used books. Friends of the Library stores accept donations but may restrict some materials. Call first to confirm opening hours and what materials are wanted. LAST CHANCE MERCANTILE in Marina takes used paint and gives paint away, too. Wood chips and compost are available for purchase for gardening use. It is a very unique place and worth a visit. There is a lot going on there!
// By Sali
LIVING FRIENDS: An urgent and serious note: Don’t dump or abandon animals. They deserve better. I hope this list helps people reconsider what they throw away. There are many more places that take donations or items to recycle. Look at https:// earth911.com for a link called, “How to Recycle” where you can enter your zip code and choose what you want to recycle. There are numerous places for drop off for things that cannot be recycled curbside. Ideally, the world will not be so disposable. Bringing personal cups and bags is a first step. Earth911.com - More Ideas, Less Waste At Earth911, we’ve created a community that helps people find their own shade of green, match their values to their purchase behaviors, adopt environmentally sound practices and drive impactful environmental changes. We are dedicated to increasing recycling rates and helping you choose sustainable ... earth911.com Unfortunately, I have not found a place that takes lottery scratchers. I will write to the California Lottery about making recyclable ones. More on that in another issue.
March 2020 // 21
Home Decor Life Lessons // Jay Russell
This month’s “Oh God, just forever stop doing that,” Citation goes to household decor of inspirational quotes on wood, faux wood, drift wood, plastic masquerading as wood, or any other wood-like vessel displaying large fonts of BS. I need not be told more than once that “Courage is My Heart,” in three different fonts of size 170. I could not imagine eating breakfast across from that Hobby Lobby flotsam every day. All those signs that constantly blurt out things like “Believe in Faith,” or some hocus about the destinations of waterfalls need not be posted up like street signs in any habitation. Muddy and rusty street signs, actually from the street, give more inspiration in a kitchen. I’d rather see a “Deer X-ing” sign every morning as a halfconscious stumbler than be told “Everything is Possible” in calligraphy. Hey, maybe that’s just me, but I doubt it. Someday, interior decorators should gain the hindsight to universally cringe at motivational quote decorations on the wall, just as we currently
openly shame carpeted walls and plastic covered couches. As far as I am concerned, neon wallpaper has more merit in home decor, as do gnomes, barbed wire and gun/hat racks. Gee Willikers, I would rather see a Big Mouth Billy Bass on a wall than a glorified bumper sticker about “intent” above the toaster. These messengers on wood deliver a headache like a falling 2X4. When I’m sitting on the John, I don’t want to constantly be reminded “Don’t count laps, make laps count.” Those sort of messages suck a considerable amount of eggs through a garden hose. This simple formula merely takes a negative statement and then by flipping the placement of two words a positive one appears. Half-wits love that kind of flub, it engenders the toddler equivalent of the paradox’s magic in them. If you are a boss/manager that spent seventy dollars on a wood sign for the office that reads “To be successful you have to have your heart in your business and business in your heart,” well, sorry to bear the news but, your employees despise you. The examples above
truly inspire minor vomiting, but the glued-backtogether fish net leg-lamp trophy for most atrocious inspirational sign sub-genre goes to: the one word inspirational sign. Those that find whole sentences tedious, with all their grammar and punctuation, may opt for the one word inspirational wood plank. Commonly seen in locker rooms to rally jocks together in their violence, these signs may simply read “FIGHT” or “EFFORT.” Somewhere in America a four foot wide message saying “Finish” is being glued above a doorway by a high school lacrosse coach with incredible smug self-satisfaction. How did we get here? How have art, taste and style fallen so far that it can be replaced by “win” in comic-sans? Word-Art peaked with Power-Point on Windows 95, so please give up on this terrifying trend.
I’d rather see a “Deer X-ing” sign every morning as a half-conscious stumbler than be told “Everything is Possible” in calligraphy.”
22 \\ Foolish Times
EAT TO DEFEAT ALS They say the world can be a cruel place. This is certainly true when we’re faced with certain realities. How about looking at a bright future and having your life shortened by something totally out of your control? Two words: It sucks. Connor Cohan knows this first hand and how it affected him and his family when Ryan Farnsworth, his cousin was taken at the age of 32 by Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). He was diagnosed at 29 and quickly became a spokesperson for the ALS Association, inspiring thousands. ALS is a disorder that caused progressive weakness and muscle atrophy, to the point where you are rendered completely immobile. The involuntary muscles, such as those that control your heartbeat, bowel, and sexual functions are not directly affected. Sensations, such as vision, hearing, and touch, are also unaffected. In many cases, ALS does not affect a person’s thinking ability. This is what makes ALS such a mystery and it sucks. ALS is commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. He stood before a microphone at Yankee Stadium in front of 62,000 fans on July 4, 1939, most of who had never heard of ALS, He told them he considered himself “the luckiest man on the face of this Earth,” because of his fans,
his family and his teammates. ALS took his life less than two years later. Stephen Hawking may have been the longest-living ALS survivor. ALS currently has no known cure. There wasn’t a lot the medical community could do for Ryan. This is why Connor is dedicating his time and life interest to helping create more awareness to find a cure and honor his cousin. Join him, his family and all your new friends on March 7th at the Moose Lodge for an evening of fabulous food, concierge service, fine drink and comradery to Eat to Defeat ALS. https://www.facebook.com/events/ ical/upcoming/?uid= 1661125541&key= fQoEzXeu6uYh82an
In my house, when you ask, “Guess who’s coming to dinner?” It’s usually paramedics.
March 2020 // 23
Wedding Games // Nancy Pyzel You’ve endured the soloist, the lengthy computerized poetry vows, the dry chicken and the oversharing toasts. You graciously resisted the urge to speak up when the minister asks if anyone objects. Hey, if the first four marriages didn’t work out, why would this one? You’re just drunk enough that the wart on the bride’s grandmother’s nose doesn’t look so scary after all. You’re in an animated conversation with the person next to you, though you can’t really hear him because the music is so loud. You think you may not sneak out early after all. That’s when the DJ announces that it’s time for wedding games. In the first game, the bride and groom sit in chairs with their backs to each other. They take their shoes off and swap one shoe with their spouse. This prepares them for how bad their spouse’s feet will smell after a long, stressful day. Next, the DJ asks them to hold up the bride’s or groom’s shoe for the spouse who best fits the answers to the questions he is about to ask. The bride and groom are so relieved they made it through the rest of the event unscathed, they have absolutely no clue that things are about to go terribly wrong. The DJ starts with questions that are innocent enough, like, “Who is more likely to forget to flush the toilet?” and “Who is more likely to leave an embarrassing web site open in a browser window?”, before ramping it up to, “Whose mother makes more unreasonable demands on your time.” “Whose ex is going to stalk you online for the rest of your lives”, and “Whose siblings are going to borrow money until you file for bankruptcy?”. DJs are often moonlighting divorce lawyers, so this is a can’t lose proposition for them. After the bride, groom and their families are thoroughly humiliated, it’s time to start in on the guests. For the next game, the DJ asks all married couples to stand at the front of the room. Most of the women are walking unsteadily, partly because they’ve had a few drinks but mostly because they’ve forgotten how to walk in heels. In fact, the highest heels they’ve worn a since the last wedding are Converse. The men are squeezed into a suit that hasn’t fit well since before kids. After cleaning
up on bacon-wrapped appetizers and trying to get their money’s worth out of the free bar, their waistband feels like it’s made of piano wire. If this isn’t embarrassing enough, they are then asked to sit down, pair by pair, starting with the ones married the fewest years. This leaves a longest married couple standing in the spotlight, sucking in their bloated stomachs and aching to take their shoes off. The last standing twosome is expected to give ad hoc advice to the newlyweds about what it takes to stay married for the long haul. The DJ, bride, groom and guests expect a sugar-coated cliché and the long-suffering couple complies, pulling some trite truism out of the recesses of their partially pickled brains. It’s usually something from a Hallmark movie they once saw, like, “Never go to bed angry” or “Always listen to your spouse”. After all, they have no desire to bare their souls. They just want to sit down, loosen their belts and kick their shoes off under the table. OK, maybe they do want to bare their soles. But what if that didn’t happen? What if the final couple answered honestly? We were curious, so we surveyed wedding guests randomly at several weddings. We allowed couples to answer anonymously in hopes that they would divulge
The bride and groom are so relieved they made it through the rest of the event unscathed, they have absolutely no clue that things are about to go terribly wrong.”
why they really stayed married so long. Here are the top ten answers to the question “What is the secret of a long marriage?”: 10. Good scotch 9. Living as far away from your in-laws as possible. 8. Separate bathrooms. 7. A good dog. 6. Lots of hobbies. 5. One spouse is in the military or travels a lot for business. 4. Living as far away from your kids as possible. 3. A lover. Or several. 2. A really big house. And the number one secret to a long marriage is ..drum roll, please: 1. Getting so drunk you don’t remember you are married! Is it true that married people live longer than singles? Nah. It just seems longer.
24 \\ Foolish Times
THE STATE I’M IN: I AM AARPeople // Robyn Justo I moved from a red state (Arizona) away from the gun shows and snow crows, leaving the way too hot temperatures, the toupees, and the twosteppers behind. I moved to a blue state (Hawaii.) Speaking of states, ours are NOT united. The DMV registrations and licenses are different in EACH state even though my identity has remained the same since my arrival on Earth as has my car’s. The IRS is nationwide. Nationwide is supposed to be on our side. It’s not. The other day I was changing the garbage bag in my Hawaiian tiny house. I had bought a Hefty value pack of large black bags and pulled out the first one. Just one big black square with no obvious entry point. I examined and reexamined it. I tried to pull it apart on one end. Then the other end. I looked at the bag again. I saw barely intelligible words about a warning for people with small children and suffocation. Nothing about adults who might want to put the bag over their own heads when they couldn’t open it. Maybe the value was inherent in the fact that these things were just big defective squares that didn’t open at all. Was there a magic word like “sesame?” I grabbed the box and looked. Nothing. Now I was in a state of confusion. I started to pull. Then I yanked harder. I got my scissors out. I swore. I found my receipt so that I could return them to the store and swear more. Then I saw a teeny, tiny separation in the area I had been attacking and I stuck a fingernail in it and pulled. YES! Must have been one of the sacred, secret profanities I spewed. The warning on the
bag was written upside down as I held up the top of the bag to open it. Makes no sense. I then replaced the full bag which I now had to take over to my landlord’s can. I could either walk all the way down the overgrown gravel Jurassic jungle driveway, down the street and around the corner to his place, unchain his gate, and deposit my trash OR trek through 2.5 soggy pastures sidestepping goat dung and puddles, unchaining two gates, and tossing it in his can. Mind you there are cameras everywhere on the property watching this, including two that are pointed right at my tiny house. What are they trying to keep in or who are they trying to keep out? (I started looking for Oprah. She does live on the island.) When I was considering a gated community this was not what I had in mind. I also have a very heavy gate that I am supposed to open, walk across the driveway, close, and chain each time I come and go here. I can’t lift it easily and there is no place to safely pull over, get out and open it (if I could.) I am not willing to risk my life with the crazy drivers speeding through the weeds on weed in their altered states. I am Goldilocked in paradise which definitely has its perks but also its price. Then it hit me (before a car did.) I did not want to struggle with garbage bags anymore. I did not want to haul garbage, trudge across pastures, or even take the garbage out at all. Call me lazy. Call me old. I’m over it. I was on my way to meet someone the other day and I heard the roads could be dicey so I took a deep breath, put on my game face, and gripped the wheel.
I am Goldilocked in paradise which definitely has its perks but also its price.”
Turns out I was on the wrong road but was told that if I kept on going to the top, over the broken tree branches, skinny lanes and treacherous terrain that I would eventually get there. I opted out. I was then told that it builds a muscle traversing these scary island roads. Schwarzenegger I am not, nor do I want to be. I also found myself wondering what the grassy mounds were around my tiny house. They could have been sacred burial grounds for ancient kahunas for all I knew, but I was now feeling very suspicious about what (or who) else might be under the grass. Ah, good reason for the cameras! I saw the neighbor digging big holes last week. BIG Jimmy Hoffa size holes which I am sure were going to become grassy mounds. I was turning into one of those AARPeople who wanted to live in an easy access, temperature, noise and rent controlled community with an inhouse restaurant and salad bar, housekeepers on duty, and on-site maintenance guys who routinely sprayed for bugs and took out my garbage, maybe until one of those mounds has my name on it and I’m lying in state. I don’t want to build muscles lifting heavy gates or driving dangerous roads. And at this age, I want life a little easier. I don’t want to drive twenty minutes to a laundromat. I don’t want to live with hurricane force winds rocking me to sleep in my tiny house, nor do I want to see a centipede on my shoe. I had visions of the Arizona snow crows dancing in my head in their Jane Fonda Jazzercise outfits, flirting with the toupee-topped golf cart drivers, sitting in their lounge chairs with a handsome pool boy serving them cocktails. It was easy for them, I pondered. Do I wait till I can’t do it all so that I don’t feel guilty about not wanting to do it all or is simply not wanting to do any of it anymore enough to qualify? Maybe there is a fantasy island adult community where life is a little more off the road but a bit more on the grid and the ghost of Tattoo is ready to serve me up a Mai Tai. Maybe I had better go find some Jane Fonda leggings and brush up on my flirting skills.
March 2020 // 25
What If Governments Ran Their Countries The Same Way We Run Game Shows? // Roger Freed In many countries of the world the government is the sole producer of all television broadcasting. They decide what will be aired, what will be written, who will star in what and who will be shot for making the wrong joke. What if they simply went a step further and ran the governments just like they were game shows (aren’t they anyway)? Maybe the results would be something like this:
awry. Come up with dumb undertakings such as paying out farm subsidies so that farmers don’t overproduce, five year plans that actually set things back five years and starting wars that will still be sapping the economy ten years from now. Zimbabwe contributed the idea for the series (and demonstrated it).
TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES: Contestants will don the uniform of their country’s secret police to torment detainees, both legitimate and innocent, for information. The players will be judged on both the quality of the information acquired and the inventiveness of the techniques used to get that information. KING FOR A DAY: A favorite show in African Middle Eastern and South American dictatorships. Contestants fight each other to become the despot of their country for one day. Anything goes when players use coup d’etat, spying, assassination attempts suicide bombings, sniper attacks and car blowups to eliminate each other. Real excitement continues the next day when the new contestants must oust the winner from the previous day. “It’s like a political version of ‘Survivor,’” says avid fan Jean-Bertrand Aristide. THE BLAME GAME: The game that brought Donald Trump to the top of his game. Government officials vie for who can best direct the public’s attention away from their domestic problems by throwing blame for the countries ills on other countries or on targets within its own realms. Judges look for creative scapegoating and clever initiation of what action will be taken against the alleged ‘blamees.’ Last year’s grand prize — Obama getting the blame for everything from terrorism to hemorrhoids. THE PYRAMID GAME: How many social services programs can your stack up before the economy collapses? Each group of contestants starts out with a military and an education budget and then adds on such burdens as a welfare system, subsidized housing, research grants, foreign aid, medical programs and old age pensions. Difficulties are added by constant harassment from special interest political groups.
LET’S MAKE A SQUEAL: This would have been a hit in the U.S. and Russia during the Cold War ‘James Bond’ years. Double agents and informants try to outdo each other with information both sound and false over their host country. Contestants are all allowed to use hidden cameras and microphones, proffered secret files, incriminating paperwork and kidnapped victims to achieve their ends. Grand prize goes to whoever can bring the infected foreign government down first. WHEEL OF MISFORTUNE: One of the most popular game shows in all socialist countries. Players are challenged to invent misfortunes, ailments and needs and by spinning the wheel create new governmental bureaucracies to deal with them. The game continues until the country goes bankrupt and the government collapses. PUT THE COUNTRY IN JEOPARDY: Come up with inane governmental policies to run things, then roar with laughter as they go
THE BUREAUCRACY MAZE: Entrants try to find their way through a maze of rules and regulations covering every facet of their lives right down to tying their shoe laces. Exits are blocked by red tape, governmental goons and dead ends. The first who successfully escapes becomes the government official responsible for keeping the maze going. Later runners must add to the maze’s complexity. Those who do not escape must remain therein and help with upkeep.
GUESS THE ACRONYM: A longtime U.S. favorite. Create new government agencies and keep their identity a mystery by using only their acronyms to identify them. Past winners include BOOBIE (Bureau for Old Bureaucrats Investigative Entity), the SSSSS (Secret Service Surplus Slush Salaries), SPOOOKS (Spy Perpetrators On Our Own Kindergartens) and DOPIEE (Deps Organized for Preying on Intellectuals and Everyone Else).
26 \\ Foolish Times
Seeing Mora and More // By Sali I am told that I have too many magazines, will never read them, and have to get rid of them. I see magazines and newspapers as the window to the universe. They bring me knowledge, happiness, and occasional coupons and samples. In January, I received my February 2020 issue of ELLE. I spotted a small photograph that jumped out and made me think, "That's Jo Mora's work." The caption and article explained that the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco had an upcoming exhibit on the history of Levi Strauss. Looking carefully at the poster in the picture, I saw his distinctive style. A credit was included near the spine of the magazine. In February, at the miniature golf course inside the Monterey Conference Center, I picked up a business card sized magnet promoting the Monterey County Fair for 2020. I thought, "That's Jo Mora." It was the mountain lion, dressed in a poncho, with personality, that alerted me. It was that quality I saw in Zip, the raccoon with attitude. I learned about Zip from my trip to the Cartoon Art Museum in San Francisco when it had a Jo Mora exhibition. My trips to museums have taught me so much. A small museum I visited, the Allentown Museum
of Art, has been in the news lately. They have evidence that a painting held by the museum for over fifty years was painted by Rembrandt. This painting, after restoration, is to be displayed in the summer. My recollection of the visit to this museum included live classical guitar in the gallery, and also a local art exhibition with prizes, a generous spread of tasty homemade dishes, warm, friendly local artists and art enthusiasts, and hot apple cider in a large room that I think was in the lower level. It was my first activity during my first trip to Pennsylvania. I had just arrived in Allentown from an overnight flight from
I thought, “That’s Jo Mora.” It was the mountain lion, dressed in a poncho, with personality, that alerted me.”
California. At the Monterey Museum of Art last year, I first learned about Matthew Barnes. His work left such an impression that I invited friends to go back with me before the exhibit closed. Afterwards, on my visit to San Francisco's Museum of Modern Art, I
asked if his paintings were on display. They were not. I left a handwritten note for the comment box asking the museum to display the paintings, acquired in the 1940s-1950s. I do not know when the last time they were out, and I am not too optimistic as to them being on display again anytime soon. Looking back, all these museum visits mentioned above where I discovered amazing art and history were trips I made alone. I head to the Prato Textile Museum this month and will write about that in Part Two of this art story.
March 2020 // 27
The Miracle Mets // Tony Albano If you were growing up in New York, and you were a baseball fan, you either loved the Yankees or the Mets. Me, I loved the Mets. Even though when they started they were considered the worst baseball team to ever take to a major league field, they were my Mets. The New York Mets were born in 1962, seven years after I was born. They were formed to replace the New York Giants who had moved to San Francisco and the Brooklyn Dodgers who had relocated to Los Angeles, which left a big void. That void was filled by my hapless Mets. The dream was that someday we Mets fans would walk in the sun, after all those losing seasons in their, um, formative years. Our Mets would become world champions, and it was that dream that floated us as we followed them year in and year out. In the summer of ‘69, which was my favorite summer, I was 14. It was not only the favorite summer for me, but it was historic. Man landed on the moon. There was Woodstock. A lot of
monumental things happened. And I feel like I spent almost every day of that summer at Shea Stadium, watching my Mets march on the march to become world champions. You want to know how big a deal it was that the Mets won the World Series? I’ll tell you. My cousin John is in a lot of my stories because he was a big part of my life. Since I was an only child, he was like a brother to me; the brother I never had. Whenever John and I would get together in later years, we would reminisce about that glorious summer, and especially recall how wonderful it was to finally become a winner with the New York Mets. A couple of years ago, John went to visit his brother in North Carolina. He was thinking of maybe relocating to outside of Charlotte. Anyway, he and his brother were just driving along winding country roads, touring and getting John a feel for the area, when they came upon a sign that said acreage and a small house was for sale. John was curious. They drove up to the little house. It was pretty rundown. John’s brother
hoisted him up on his shoulders so he could look in a window. Actually, there was no glass in the window. Then my cousin John tumbled through the windowless opening into the little house. He fell onto the creaky wooden floor, all musty and cobwebby, but didn’t hurt himself. He told me later that everything in the house seemed to be out of the past. Like time had stood still. It was dark in the house, and he couldn’t see anything. Of course the electricity wasn’t on. His brother said, “Is there anything in there?” John told him, “No, I don’t see anything. Nothing but a wooden table and a chair. On the table is a newspaper.” His brother asked, “What’s the newspaper say?” John answered, “The Miracle Mets Are the World’s Champs.” John didn’t buy the house or the land, but he did grab the thirty-year-old newspaper, and brought it back to New York along with the incredible story of finding it. It has always been a great prop for our future reminiscing.
The New York Mets were born in 1962, seven years after I was born. They were formed to replace the New York Giants who had moved to San Francisco.”
From the book, “Life is a bumpy Road” Available on Amazon and at Downtown Book & Sound in Oldtown Salinas.
28 \\ Foolish Times
Understanding the Irish How does every Irish joke start? By looking over your shoulder.
A ventriloquist is telling Irish jokes when, O’Leary, an irate Irishman stands up shouting, ‘you’re making out we’re all dumb and stupid. I ought a punch you in the nose.’’ “I’m sorry sir, I…” ‘’Not you,’ says O’Leary, ‘I’m talking to that little fella on your knee.’
Why are leprechauns so hard to get along with? Because they’re very shorttempered!
Recipe for St. Patrick’s Day Irish stew: Get some meat, some potatoes, onions, peas, spinach and a lot of Guinness. Drink all of the beer. Forget about the stew.
O’Leary was waiting at the bus stop with his friend, Maguire, when a truck went by loaded up with rolls of turf. O’Leary said, “I’m going do that when I win the lottery.” “What’s that, O’Leary,’ Maguire asked. “Send the lawn away to be cut,” said O’Leary.
What happens when a leprechaun falls into a river? He gets wet.
“I’m the unluckiest person in the whole world,” moaned Betty McGrath. “I bought a non-stick pan and can’t get the label off.”
“I was reading an article last night about fathers and sons, and memories came flooding back of the time I took my son out for his first pint.” “Off we went to our local pub. I got him a Guinness. He didn’t like it, so I drank it. Then I got him a Corona, he didn’t like that either, so I drank it. It was the same with Stella and Lagunitas .I thought maybe he’d like whiskey better than beer so we tried a Jameson’s, nope. By the time I realized he just didn’t like to drink I was so drunk I could hardly push the stroller back home.”
What do you get when you cross poison ivy with a four-leaf clover? A rash of good luck.
An Irishman is sitting at the end of a bar. He sees a lamp at the end of the table. He walks down to it and rubs it, and out pops a genie. It says, “I will give you three wishes.” The Irishman thinks awhile, finally he says, “I want a beer that never is empty.” With that, the genie makes a poof sound and on the bar is a bottle of beer. The Irishman starts drinking it and right before it is gone, it starts to refill. The genie asks about his next two wishes. The Irishman says, “I want two more of these.”
Why did St. Patrick drive the snakes out of Ireland? He couldn’t afford plane fare.
How did the Leprechaun cross the road? He hopped on the chicken’s back.
Why do leprechauns hate running? They’d rather jig than jog.
Michael wakes up in hospital, covered in bandages, and notices Sean sitting at his bedside. “What happened to me?” asks Michael. “Well,” replies Sean, “you had a few too many drinks last night and then you made a bet that you could jump out of the window and fly around the pub.” “Why didn’t you stop me?” Michael screams. “Stop you?” replies Sean. “Hell, I bet thirty dollars on you.”
“I had an accident opening a can of alphabet spaghetti this morning,” said Murphy. “Were you injured?” inquired Seamus. “No, but it could have spelled disaster.”
The local District Judge had given the defendant a lecture on the evils of drinking. But in view of the fact that this was the first time the man had been drunk in public, the case was dismissed. “Now don’t let me ever see your face again,” said the judge sternly as the defendant turned to go. “I’m afraid I can’t promise that, sir,” said the released man. “And why not?” “Because I’m the bartender where you drink.”
JUNIOR JOKES Q: What rhymes with orange? A: No it doesn’t. Q: How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh? A: Ten tickles. Q: Why don’t you play poker in the jungle? A: Too many cheetahs. Q: What do you call a fish with no eyes? A: FSH Q: Why did the bicycle fall over? A: It was two tired. Q: What is the best way to cook a gator? A: In a crock pot. Q: What did the snail say as he rode the turtle? A: Wheee! Q: How does a squid go in to battle? A: Well armed. Q: What do you call a seagull that flies over the bay? A Bagel Q: What kind of tea is hard to swallow? A: Reality
March 2020 // 29
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30 \\ Foolish Times
from page 23
from page 26
A very popular waiter dies and his wife is distraught. One day she meets someone who assures her she can talk to her deceased husband through a medium. At the séance, the wife presses both hands on the table and called out, “Jim, speak to me.’ A haunting familiar voice replied, “I can’t, it’s not my table.”
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March 2020 // 31
FOOLIN’ AROUND TOWN March 1-15
Matilda the Musical
First Friday @ MMA
A tony Award winning Broadway musical. A story of a little girl with an unbound imagination proves you do anything when you put your mind to it. pacrep.org
Meet and greet artists while celebrating the opening of new exhibitions. Live performance by Mai Ryuno of The Ripple Effect. montereyart.org
Election Day Get out and vote!
This diverse collection of funny, sweet and thoughtful new plays has something for everyone. Written by local playwrights and acted and directed by MPC and Monterey High students and other local performers. mpctheatre.com
Daylight Saving Time
St Patrick’s Day
Lighter longer in the day can only mean that warmer weather is just around the corner.
New Works Festival
Monterey County Composers’ Forum will present “The Times They are A-Changing,” A concert of new music by local composers and songwriters. Guest artist, David Dally is featured on violin. hiddenvalleymusic.org
First Friday Artwalk
The longest continuous art walk in the county. Artist receptions dance, music, comedy and more. Oldtown Salinas comes alive. 1stfridays.org
Her foul mouthed commentary on family life and morbid observations about depression and aging earned her praise from The New York Times. She was named one of the 50 Funniest People in Brooklyn. sunsetcenter.org
Eat to Defeat ALS
Collin is on a mission to find a cure for ALS. A disease with no known cure that took his cousin. Come support a great cause. (story on pg 22) eattodefeatals.com
The premier band out of Oakland is famous for their hybrid brand sound of soul/funk/R&B/rock. They feature the best horn section in the business. Over fifty years and twenty six albums later we all know, “What Is Hip.” goldenstatetheatre.com
A master banjo player plays an Americana mix, rooted in straightahead bluegrass. He shared the stage with The New Riders of the Purple Sage and The Del McCoury Band. banjerdan.net
Dinner fundraiser for Marine Life Studies and Whalefest at Cibo. Come early for happy Hour before dinner. 20% of the tab goes to both causes. cibo.com
WC Songwriters Competition March 14
Tower of Power
Saint Patrick wasn’t originally called Patrick. His birth name was Maewyn Succat. Legend says that each leaf of the clover has a meaning: Hope, Faith, Love and Luck. Celebrate with a beer and corned beef.
Party like its 19 million years ago. Enjoying games, craft drinks, delicious bites, and tromp-stomping music. Rediscover your sense of wonder. pgmuseum.org
A gathering of like-minded people. Come see, come hear. Come play your song or spoken word. westcoastsongwritters.org
Bees, Wasps, Honey, and Hives
Explore the sweet-side of science on Science Saturday. Do all bees make honey? How do you tell a wasp from a bee? Do all bees sting? Find the answers to your buzzing questions. pgmuseum.org
THE Resale TRAIL SPCA BENEFIT SHOP Barnyard Shopping Village 26364 Carmel Rancho Ln. Carmel-By-The-Sea 831.624.4211 spcamc.org
The Best in Repurposed, Consignments, Vintage & Thrift! CHOOSE YOUR TREASURE 211 Pearl St Downtown Monterey 831.7471633
WORKING MAN FURNITURE 10728 Merritt St Downtown Castroville 831.789.5901
FASHION TRADE BOUTIQUE 554 Lighthouse Ave Monterey 831.682.3740 fashiontrademonterey.com
March Featured Event
SPCA’s Annual Share the Love Pet Telethon
March 12th on KSBW & Central Coast CBS \\ 6am-8pm
All donations go directly to help animals in need. Everything the SPCA does is made possible by donors. We simply can’t help the animals without this support. All donations stay here in Monterey County. We shelter homeless, neglected and abused pets and livestock. We are the local agency you call to investigate animal cruelty, rescue and rehabilitate injured wildlife, and aid domestic animals in distress.
CAROUSEL CONSIGNMENT 490 Orange Ave Sand City 831.521.3672
YELLOW BRICK ROAD 26388 A Carmel Rancho Ln Carmel 831.626.8480 yellowbrickroadbenefitshop.org
LAST CHANCE MERCANTILE 14201 Del Monte Blvd. Marina 831.384.5313 mrwmd.org
Our new normal is changing. Our sense of humor is needed more than ever.