IT’S ABOUT A QUOTER TO NINE

Several days ago, one of my readers said she’s partial to humorous quotes, so I’ve been thinking about spending a whole lot of time thinking about devoting a post to things others have said which are funnier than what I say….but after searching high (brow) and low (brow), eye gave up. See what I mean?

Ha ha! Just kidding. Believe it or not, I was able to find nine selections funnier-than-mine (well, maybe somewhat funnier), though I’m sure I would’ve said them first if I’d thought of them first. Some of the nine guys & gals I’m about to quote said what they said before I was even born, thus taking unfair advantage of circumstances beyond my control. But this is my blog, so as a quoter of quotes, I at least get to determine the subject matter of the quotes I quote, and the quotes I’ve chosen to quote are quotes about quotes….and I quote:

“A quotation is a handy thing to have about, saving one the trouble of thinking for oneself – always a laborious business.” –A. A. Milne

“I googled the quote ‘Power means not having to respond.’ Nothing happened.” –John Alejandro King [what “Power means” sounds like something Trump might say, except nothing Trump says is worth quoting]

“Quotation: The act of repeating erroneously the words of another.” –Ambrose Bierce

“There are two kinds of marriages: where a husband quotes the wife, and where the wife quotes the husband.” –Clifford Odets

“You can tell a really wonderful quote by the fact that it’s attributed to a whole raft of wits.” –Anna Quindlen

“I have made it a rule that whenever I say something stupid, I immediately attribute it to Dr. Johnson, Marcus Aurelius or Dorothy Parker.” –George Mikes

“That woman speaks eighteen languages and can’t say ‘No’ in any of them.” –Dorothy Parker

“You can always depend on children to quote you correctly, especially when it’s something you shouldn’t have said.” –Evan Esar

“I can’t see what Jack Warner [Warner Bros. movie mogul] can do with an Oscar – it can’t say Yes.” –Al Jolson

:

TRUMP IN A NUTSHELL

He can’t bother to feel his fellow man’s pain —
It means nothing to him, if there’s nothing to gain.

He has no need to keep track of his legion of lies —
Who can keep up with/swat down ceaseless swarms of flies?

He doesn’t believe that certain ‘difFerEnt’ people belong —
He doesn’t even see difference between right and wrong.

What does he believe? That’s easy to see —
He believes above all that “It’s all about ME.”

 

 

RELAX

Today being RELAXATION DAY, I’m of a mind to put as little effort into this post as possible. Now that I think of it, I should probably stop right here….but then, how could I relax, knowing I’d short-changed my countless faithful followers. After all, our President never ceases to model being a ‘word’-class genius, so who am I to act less nobly than he — am I not duty-bound to follow his lead, even if I have to hold my nose? Of course snot.

In any case, let us proceed….to RELAX:

Well, that looked more like an example of do as they sing, not as they do. Here’s something a bit more in the spirit of the day:

Now that we’ve boned up on how to properly relax, we can truly….

But just in case you’re still not at ease with taking it easy today, I suggest that this demonstration of the lotus position warts — I mean, warrants — serious consideration (if you’re so inclined):

https://quotesgram.com/img/funny-quotes-about-relaxing/2098415/

Now that’s what I call a croaker who knows how to croak — I mean,       relax     .

PRESIDENTIAL J. DAY

Tomorrow, August 11, is PRESIDENTIAL JOKE DAY. I suppose you think I’ll use this occasion to pile jokes on top of a joke of a President — a megalomaniacal ignoramus who (in political ads) kvells* that he, President Donald J. Trump, “approved this message” – emphasizing his very impressive middle initial (although I personally favor Presidential J. Day — at least, that’s my initial reaction).

*kvell, a Yiddish word meaning to exult

But why should I bother, when hardly a day goes by when His Highness doesn’t make a laughing stock of himself:

Speaking of “kvells,” who but this cognitive genius of a nature-loving leader of the free world knew that Yo Semites have their own National Park? No doubt he is also the only national park authority who knows that majestic Mount Rain-in-ear National Park in Washington state was named after a brave Native American brave who climbed that mountain in a downpour without an umbrella, causing his head to turn into an ice cube when he reached the summit where the temperature was lower than a cold-blooded President’s IQ.

Now, we must admit (as The Donald does not hesitoot to point out) that his Presidential rival Joe Biden makes his share of gaffes, so who are we to dare air/bare rare, Trumped-up verbal farts such as these:

So, as you can see, hear, and smell. far be it from me to take advantage of PRESIDENTIAL JOKE DAY here. The Fake News speaks for itself. I don’t need to show you any stinkin’ jokes.

 

WHERE THE TRUTH LIES

lie, n. a false statement known to be false by the person who makes it.
lie, v. to be in a horizontal or flat position; to exist; have its place.  –World Book Dictionary

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So, where does the truth lie? Attempts to address that question, it seems to me, lie in the assumption that we know objectively what truth is. Should we settle for the negative defining of truth as being the opposite of “lie, n“? I don’t know that most of us want to — or need to — go deeper into the jungle of truth than that, but if you’re of a mind to take the path of beast resistance, you can start here:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/hide-and-seek/201808/what-is-truth

In our dystopian sub-culture of “fake news,” half-truths, whole-cloth fabrications and false narratives in which truth is what President Trump says it is and science is fiction, it isn’t always simple to disentangle truth from the deluge of prevarication and misrepresentations which is Trump’s stock in trade  — and he knows it. Who can fact check it all fast enough? The old saying remains relevant: “A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.”

And speaking of quotes which remain relevant, try these on for wise:

Carlyle said, “A lie cannot live.” It shows he did not know how to tell them. –Mark Twain

If at first you’re not believed, lie, lie again.–Evan Esar (not Trump, believe it or not)

The pursuit of truth shall set you free, even if you never catch up with it. –Clarence Darrow

It is twice as hard to crush a half-truth as a whole lie. –Austin O’Malley

Truth is more important than facts. –Frank Lloyd Wright

All men are born truthful and die liars. –Marquis de Vauvenargues

And so it goes. Would I lie to you?

 

PIED FEIFFER

pied, adj.  of two or more colors in blotches — Merriam-Webster Dictionary

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Another post, another autobiography (or memoir, going by the book) to review — this one titled BACKING INTO FORWARD, by Jules Feiffer. But I am not so much going to review this 2010 book as pass along some thoughts from it, which, I think, are worth thinking about — relevant, at least in part, to current backward, black and white, regressive times.

First, a brief introduction: FEIFFER (born Jan. 26, 1929), is a Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist and writer who was born and grew up ‘between a blotch (of angsts) and a hard place’ in the Bronx. Having a controlling mother, little interest in school and no athletic ability whatsoever, “Fear was the principal emotion of my childhood. I hid in my sleep. I hid in my dreams. I revealed myself only in comics, which were the embodiment of my dreams.”

In his teens, he was influenced by his older sister, whose “crowd was fast-talking, fast-quipping, mischievous, left, meaning far left in their politics, their taste in books, art, movies, and just about everything else.” Marry this influence with his passion for cartoons, and you have the seeds of the man and cartoonist he was to become (the engrossing details of which you will have to read in the book).

Now for some of those thoughts I previously mentioned and now quote:

Over the years I have been asked how I came to make certain choices. How did I know? This choice as opposed to that, this direction or that? Much of my life as a young man was spent ignoring or delaying choices. The choices I made were due to running out of time. Backed into a corner, a choice was made because I no longer had a choice not to. Having nowhere to go, I spot the one open window and jump through. Choice to me is much like Butch Cassidy and Sundance escaping a posse by jumping off a cliff. They jumped. And survived. It was the right choice. But when it’s not, you’re dead.

Up until I was drafted, I had found that I could survive under any circumstance, no matter how unnerving, degrading, humiliating, or demoralizing, if I could understand the unwritten rules, i.e., the culture that was beating up on me. Whether it was family, school, sports, work, sex, I was accustomed to getting knocked down, picking myself up, and starting all over again. But in the army I was on unknown ground. After five months something went terribly wrong. They transferred me to train me to operate and repair radios on the [Korean] front line–in other words, to be killed. Radio repair was indecipherable to me. I saw no good reason [for] this assignment. As Vice President Dick Cheney explained when asked by the press why he hadn’t fought in the Vietnam War, “I had other priorities.” Yes! Yes! Me too!

It was heartbreaking to watch [Jerome] Robbins go into his HUAC dance. The acting chair of the House Un-American Activites Committee, a somber, ministerial-looking fake, asked Robbins at the start of his sworn testimony what he did for a living. Robbins stated that he was a choreographer. The chair did not understand the unfamiliar word. “A chori–chori–chori–what exactly is that, Mr. Robbins.?” Robbins explained that it was something like a dance director and named shows he had choreographed, from On The Town, his first musical, to The King And I. The members of the committee seemed delighted to have this fancy new word to play with. As each one took his turn questioning Robbins, he took a crack at pronouncing “choreographer.” The point, made to the cameras for the heartland, was that loyal American don’t need highfalutinn words. No! Loyal Americans needed but one thing, fealty to God and country. Loyal Americans wrapped themselves in the flag.

Called soft on Communism, liberals quieted down about witch hunts and loyalty oaths. Called eggheads, they dumbed themselves down. Displays of wit were repressed as too highbrow. Accused of cowardice in the Cold War, liberals began appraising countries to invade. Vietnam was a liberal war. The Republican Dwight Eisenhower refused to be sucked in. But Eisenhower was a general, a war hero, he didn’t have to prove his manhood. John F. Kennedy, although a war hero, was a liberal Democrat. He had to prove his manhood. Kennedy couldn’t afford to let the Russians think he was incompetent and inconsequential, which they might well have concluded after the Bay of Pigs. The Soviets might move on Berlin because of Kennedy’s perceived weakness. Before they could make such a move, Kennedy moved on Vietnam. As much of a disaster as the war proved itself to be, Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson, after him, could not get out. To cut and run was not an option for Democrats because it would make them open to attacks from Republicans.

Enough. Or was/is it? Politics being politics and the American electorate being the American electorate, we now have the grotesquely cartoonish Donald Trump….so let us close with this (for what it’s worth):

THE INDISPENSABLE (OLD) MAN

“It’s possible there will be some [deaths as a result of reopening the country now].” –President Donald Trump in response to ABC’s David Muir on May 5, 2020.

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In 1963, President John F. Kennedy proclaimed May as Senior Citizens Month (changed in 1965 to OLDER AMERICANS MONTH). Judging by Trump’s desperation to get the economy humming again before the election — and before the Covid-19 danger (especially to our most vulnerable citizens) is well under control — May seems destined to become Expendable Older Americans Month.

I dare say that, although Trump may consider his fellow senior Americans like Joe Biden, mistermuse, and (perhaps) you expendable, he doesn’t see himself in that category. After all, the country can ill afford to lose a stable genius at a time like this — or at any other time (such as November 3, 2020, for example).

Now, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings to The Indispensable Man, but it’s just minutely possible that he may lose the upcoming election despite his stable pomposity — er, geniosity. However, in the unlikely event that that happens, His Stable Highness can take consolation in the fact that, like the rest of us put-out-to-pasture patriarchs, he can still be King (Emeritus) of his castle:

DYING FOR DOLLARS

Some of you may remember a long-running (1950s to early 1990s) TV program called DIALING FOR DOLLARS in which the host (after announcing the password(s) at the start of the show) randomly picked a phone number to call. If the person being called gave the password, he or she would win prize money; an incorrect answer would increase the prize money for the next call, and so on. Here’s SCTV’s take on the program:

Nowadays, it seems there’s a new game on TV:  a daily game in which the host is President/Scientific Genius Donald Trump, the password is nominally COVID-19, and the payoff is whatever he says it is in order to re-start the economy at any price — ranging from billions of dollars for big business and big banks, to ingesting disease-killing disinfectants. Regarding the latter, you may be tempted to say, “You first, Mr. President.” Too late! The next day, he said he was just kidding and didn’t mean it. Hahahahahahaha.

It’s Not Fake News: Trump Did Actually Suggest That Injecting Bleach Could Be a Cure for COVID-19

Sorry, Mr. Desperate President, the joke is on you, because you’re sicker than the sickest Covid-19 patient, and there’s no cure for your virulent virus except the resounding defeat you must suffer on Nov. 3.

HAIKU!….GESUNDHEIT!

Pardon me while I celebrate INTERNATIONAL HAIKU POETRY DAY. Haiku, as you know, is a three-line poem of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, which happens to total 17, which happens to be this day of the month, which happens to be INTERNATIONAL I-Already-Told-You-What DAY. So, here are a few lowbrow examples of haiku, guaranteed to ruin your appetite for haiku for the for-eatable future. If you have trouble swallowing any of these, feel free to wash it down with a swig of your favorite beverage, followed by a quart of milk of magnesia. If that doesn’t relieve your groan, you’re on your own.

ONE TOO MANY (syllables)

Excuses may be
easy to make…but they don’t
make up for your mistake.

A NEAR MYTH

Once upon a time
I tried to make a haiku
rhyme. Maybe next time.

HAIKU ON THE HUSTINGS

Politician beams,
waves to crowd of strange faces…
he’s been here before.

Had enough? Believe it or not, it could always be worse:

 

 

 

A HELLUVA WAY TO RUN A WORLD

“This is a helluva way to run a railroad.” –from a 1906 speech by Leonor F. Loree, railroad executive, to a committee of creditors who asked him to take charge of the Kansas City Southern Railroad, which was described as two streaks of rust; its engines lost steam; the men were disheartened; and the stations were shacks.

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Since first said in 1906, the above quote has famously become a catchphrase for the high-and-mighty mentality of any commercial, governmental, military, or other top-down entity operating in a fashion oblivious to SNAFU (Situation Normal, All Fucked Up). I (and maybe you too) have had occasion to view SNAFU close-up and personal, having served as a draftee in the military and as a 30-year “soldier” in the corporate milieu before retiring to savor domestic life anew (and rue honey-do). But at least I’m the boss of my own blog (though still at the mercy of invisible forces somewhere out there in the blogosphere).

Anyway, being of a philosophical bent, this got me to thinking about helluva railroads and SNAFU, writ LARGE –as in, dude: how did this whole woebegone world come to be so SNAFUed? Do we have a clue? Perhaps a few of us do.

It’s a story we can’t stop telling ourselves. Once, humans were benighted by superstition and irrationality, but then the Greeks invented reason. Later, the Enlightenment enshrined rationality as the supreme value. Discovering that reason is the defining feature of out species, we named ourselves the “rational animal.” But is this flattering story rational? From sex and music to religion and war, irrationality makes up the greater part of human life and history. –from a reference to IRRATIONALITY (subtitled A HISTORY OF THE DARK SIDE OF REASON), a book by Justin E. H. Smith, a professor of history and the philosophy of science.

Well, if that isn’t food for thought, I don’t know what is. The problem, of course, is what it has always been: those most in need of reflecting on and applying such appraisal to oneself wouldn’t be caught dead doing so. It’s Greek to them. The Trumps of the world live in their own little world where big money talks….and it speaks power.

Oh well. So much for funny money.