Man Answers Cell Phone At Exorcism

"May I speak to Mr. Howard Farnsworth please?"

"This is he."

"Hello, Mr. Farnsworth. This is Carl with Lucifer's."

"Lucifer's?"

"Yes. You remember you sold your soul to us in 2007?"

"Yes, I remember."

"And have you enjoyed the untold riches and access to beautiful women you have received in exchange"

"I suppose so."

"Where are you now, Mr. Farnsworth?"

"Now?"

"At this moment. Where exactly are you?"

"Um, well, I'd rather not say..."

"I see. Well, let me get Lucifer then..."

"No, no. That won't be necessary.  I'm standing in front of a building..."

"That would be The Church of the Holy Sorrow in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, New York, correct?"

"How did you know..."

"Ah, Brooklyn. It is such a lovely place. It is known as the Borough of Churches. Did you know that?"

"I might have heard..."

"DID YOU KNOW IT?!!!"

"Yes, yes I did know it."

"Now, according to our records you have registered for an exorcism there at Holy Sorrow scheduled for, oh, look, just two minutes from now. Why would you want to do that?"

"I don't know. I guess I just sort of wanted my soul back."

"Despite the fact that you are now part of an affiliation that is over 300 Million souls strong?"

"That many?"

"And growing every day, Mr. Farnsworth. All the cool guys are in it. Now what would make you want to leave something as popular and cool as that?"

"Um, the Power of Christ compels me?"

"Very funny, Mr. Farnsworth. I just wonder what it would take to keep you here with Lucifer's?"

"Well, I guess if there was some way I could get my soul back..."

"Hmmm. You know, if it was up to me that would be no problem, but my supervisor has some very...exacting standards. Oh, what the hell. Yes, what the Hell indeed. Let me see what I can do. Now it looks like you are on the single soul plan, is that right?"

"Well, yes. I mean I only have one immortal soul, right?"

"Mr. Farnsworth, let me tell you about our Friends and Family program..."

Aunt Gaddy

My Aunt Gaddy came to town the other weekend for a visit. Although she hails from Long Island, Gaddy has always affected a down home, common folk, rural persona. Family legend has it that as a teenager she had "spent time with" a touring country/western singer and from that point on it was all "Darn tootin'" and "Mercy me".

It happened that I was planning a small dinner party for some friends that Saturday night, and once she found out about it Gaddy insisted that she would prepare the meal. She fancies herself an excellent cook, especially when it comes to what she calls "real" food. If you spend some time discussing this with her you soon find out that anything that is not fried, salted, fatted or glazed is not "real".

Gaddy happily began pawing through the kitchen cabinets searching for ingredients.

"Where's the lard?" she asked.

"Lard?" I tried to disguise the panic in my voice. "For what?"

She didn't seem to hear me as her head was stuck deeply into the bowels of our pantry. "I need lard, pickling salt, blackstrap molasses and a deep fryer," her voice echoed ominously from inside.

"F-f-for what?" I repeated.

She pulled herself out of the pantry and looked at me with a self-satisfied smile. "Why, fried mayonnaise, of course!" she jubilated.

I tried to picture what I imagined - I admit unfairly - would be a glutenous, quivering mass. Then I thought about the effect this dish might have on my dinner guests, a group composed of vegetarians (lacto and ovo), vegans, pescatarians, macrobioticals, and one young man who refuses to reveal what he can't eat until he sees what you are serving.

I did my best to disguise my desperation. "Um I don't think we actually have any mayonnaise."

"Oh, mercy me, don't you worry about that," sympathized Gaddy.  "We can use Miracle Whip if that's all you have. It won't be quite as glutenous, but it will still quiver nicely."

"Look, Aunt Gaddy, I'm a little concerned that my friends might not have acquired the taste for fried mayonnaise."

She considered this. "I see. You know your cousin Harlen is the same way. He won't touch fried mayonnaise unless I put soured okra on top! Can you imaging?" She wrinkled her nose and thought for a moment. She stuck her head back in the panty. "Where is the soured okra?"

"No, no, no, no, no..." I was beginning to babble. "I think we'll need something else..."

A chuckle echoed from inside and her head reappeared. "Well, of course there will be something else! You can't just have fried mayonnaise for dinner."

Seeing a glimmer of hope I replied, "No. No you can't."

"Let's see? What goes with fried mayonnaise?" She said this as if there were a panoply of choices, each more delightful than the one before.

"Why don't I just order..."

"Catfish melt?" she pondered to herself. "Double stuffed gut rind?"

"Actually, Gaddy, I already promised my friends that I'd be serving Thai food."

"Thai? You mean like Thailand?"

"Yes. That's right. Thailand. You know, Asia."

"Oh, of course. Thai."

"Exactly. So I thought I'd just order from a restaurant..."

"Isaan, Central, or Southern?"

"What?"

"Isaan, I think. How does Grilled Pork Neck sound?"

"It sounds disgusting..."

"Pickled blue crab," she mused, "with fermented fish sauce..." 

"Wait, Gaddy..."

"I know!  Grilled chicken livers with..."

"STOP!"

"...tamarind dipping sauce...Why, what in tarnation is wrong, darlin'?"

I tried to compose myself. I gently put my hand on her shoulder and leaned into the pantry. "Sakes alive," I drawled, "where did I put that lard?"

Putin Signs Law Forcing Popular Bloggers To Register

Embassy of the Russian Federation
Washington, DC
Attn: Blog Registration Division
Dear Sirs,

I am writing to inform you that I wish to register my blog, The JD Times, in compliance with recently passed legislation. As an important and influential source of humor and inspiration I have determined that my blog falls within the purview of this law, since it is a significant global media outlet of vital information.

Please register my blog as soon as you can because, honestly, it is really popular, well read, and a beloved source of information to several people.

It is  not nearly the colossal waste of time you may have heard it is.

Yours truly,

The JD Times.
New York, NY

###

Thank you for contacting The Embassy of the Russian Federation, Customer Service. We are in receipt of your communication and a Customer Care Representative will respond to your inquiry.

Sincerely, 

The Embassy of the Russian Federation
Customer Support 
www.russianembassy.org/support.html 

###

Embassy of the Russian Federation
Washington, DC
Attn: Blog Registration Division
Dear Sirs,

I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I don't have a problem with customer care. I just want to register my important, hugely popular, highly entertaining blog because it it a profound source of information to many, many people.

JD Times.
New York, NY

###

Thank you for contacting The Embassy of the Russian Federation, Customer Service. We are in receipt of your communication and we note that that you "have a problem with customer care". A Customer Care Problem Resolution Officer will be contacting you shortly.

Sincerely,

The Embassy of the Russian Federation

Customer Care Resolution Division 
www.russianembassy.org/resolution.html

###

Embassy of the Russian Federation
Washington, DC
Attn: Blog Registration Division
Dear Sirs,

Can't you get it through your thick skulls that I don't have a customer care problem and don't need a Customer Care Problem Resolution Officer! I just want to register my stupid blog! 

JD Times

New York, NY

### 

Thank you for contacting The Embassy of the Russian Federation, Customer Service. We are in receipt of your communication and we note that you "don't need a Customer Care Problem Resolution Officer" in relation to the problem with your skull. Therefore we will be forced to escalate this issue to a higher level. 

Sincerely,

The Embassy of the Russian Federation

Customer Care Enforcement Division 
www.russianembassy.org/enforcement.html

###

Embassy of the Russian Federation
Washington, DC
Attn: Blog Registration Division
Dear Sirs,

Oh, just forget the whole thing. I don't want your dumb Federation looking at my blog, anyway.

JD Times

New York, NY

###

Thank you for contacting The Embassy of the Russian Federation, Customer Service. We are in receipt of your communication and we note your demand to cease "looking at my blog". Despite your pitiful attempts to avoid the No Blogger Left Behind Act, you have been registered and will be monitored by The Glorious People's Ministry of Literary Appraisal The Blogger Safety Board to insure that nothing you write, post, or think is of any danger to you or anyone you know, have ever known, or ever will know.

This monitoring will take effect as soon as the audience for your blog reaches three thousand readers.  

Sincerely,

The Embassy of the Russian Federation

Customer Care Enforcement Division 
www.russianembassy.org/NBLB.html

###

Embassy of the Russian Federation
Washington, DC
Attn: Blog Registration Division
Dear Sirs,

I am in receipt of your most recent missive and, in fact, am reading it now.  First of all let me apologize for my previous outburst. I was having a bad...Three THOUSAND readers?!!

What am I, a Kardashian?

Just forget the whole thing.

JD Times.
New York, NY

###

Editorial Offices of The JD Times
New York, NY
Attn: Blog Registration Division
Dear Sirs,

Thank you for contacting The Embassy of the Russian Federation, Customer Service. We are in receipt of your communication and we note your request to "forget the whole thing" regarding the registration of your blog. Unfortunately, this is not possible. We  are Russian. We never forget anything.

In fact an operative representative will be meeting you and your Kardashian friends soon. 

Very soon.

Sincerely,
The Russian Embassy
Washington, DC
Scheduling Division
www.russianembassy.org/meeting.html
 

###

Embassy of the Russian Federation
Washington, DC
Attn: Blog Registration Division
Dear Sirs,

Thank you for contacting The JD Times, Customer Service. We are in receipt of your communication and a customer service representative will respond to your inquiry as soon as the audience for your inquiry reaches three thousand readers.

Sincerely,

The JD Times
Whereabouts Unknown

 

Reactions to Monica Lewinsky

Recently Vanity Fair magazine announced that Monica Lewinsky had written an article for their next issue. This has generated quite a few reactions from around the country.

Mel Robbins, CNN: "Stop judging Monica Lewinski."

Maureen Dowd, The New York Times: "Monica is in danger of exploiting her own exploitation..."

Ruth Marcus, The Washington Post: "(she) saw her life irreparably shattered..."

Cliven Bundy, Nevada Rancher: "I want to tell you one more thing I know about the 24 year old White House intern..."

Smoothie, Schmoothie

While sitting in my doctor's' waiting room last week I happened to pick up an issue of  MyInternetWebDoctor magazine. Dr. Jake is a camper and hunter, so this issue lurked among other publications with titles such as Outdoor Rx and Field and Stream and Autoimmune Diseases, along with a well-thumbed copy of a book called  Off My Meds: A Journey Alone.

I wouldn't call this issue of MyInternetWebDoctor a recent issue (unless they haven't published anything since 2012) but since it was a magazine with which I was unfamiliar I thought I'd give it a browse.

Inside there was a very compelling article about the myriad common, everyday items that could kill you in an instant, and another about how coffee can both cause and cure cancer. But the one I found most interesting was an excellent story about food preparation devices, primarily because it included a stunning photograph a rather muscular smoothie making machine standing next to the elegantly attractive blended concoction it had wrought. The two of them together looked like a pair of Hollywood stars standing on a red carpet at some obscure, food preparation device awards program.

Let me digress for a moment to say that one of the things I most admire about us Americans is our unique ability to find names for things that don't have names. A "smoothie" might have been called a "squash-ie" or a "mush-ie" but "smoothie" just seems so appropriate and I have to give kudos to whoever thought it up.

My first stop after leaving the doctor's office was the local appliance store and soon I was hurrying home with visions of frothy healthful mixtures in my head.

"Look," I proudly said to my wife as I walked into the kitchen holding up my treasure.

"What't that?" she asked, looking up from her book. "A blender?"

"It happens to be a smoothie maker," I instructed. Then added, in case she didn't quite understand the technology involved, "It's for making smoothies."

"Hmmm. Thanks for explaining that."

 I quickly un-boxed the instrument, glanced briefly at the instructions which were much too complicated and loaded with warnings, and dove right in to making my first smoothie.

I quickly filled the blending vessel with yogurt, strawberries, and ice cubes.

"I think you're supposed to use crushed ice," my wife said helpfully. "Did you read the instructions?"

"I think I know how to make a smoothie, dear," I replied, "and these cubes are pretty small . More like cube-etts, really."

"I don't believe I've ever heard of cube-etts," she said, "but it's your blender."

"Smoothie maker," I muttered as I pressed the "Go" button.

There was a brief whirring sound, followed by a harsh grinding sound, followed by a very long silence sound. I pushed the "Go" button a few more times, but it was clear that the device was no longer functional.

"Sounds like you might have to return it," my wife noted.

Apparently she had forgotten that I do not come from a people who are returners. If, for example, we are in a restaurant and something is brought to our table that we did not order, we just eat it. I once saw my mother eat a children's platter of macaroni and cheese when she had actually ordered a chef salad because, as she put it, "I don't want to make a scene."

So the idea of returning a smoothie maker which I very well may have caused to malfunction was not exactly in my comfort zone. Still, it was painfully clear that something had gone wrong and steps had to be taken.

When I got back to the store I managed to track down the salesman who had sold me the mechanism of betrayal, a man named Dale.

"Dale!" I said heartily, "I have a little problem here."

"What, with the blender?" he said.

"Smoothie maker," I said. "It just stopped working. I'm thinking it may be defective or something."

"Let's have a look." He took it from me, glanced inside the glass container, shook it a couple of times, and said, "Has someone been putting ice cubes in this?"

"Ice cubes?!" I exclaimed incredulously. "Of course not."

He looked again, more carefully. "How about cube-etts?"

### 

EndNote

It turns out the smoothie got it's name in the 1960's from the California Smoothie Company. The California Smoothie Company is located in Paramus, New Jersey.

No word yet on who invented the cube-ett.