Monday, January 15, 2018

Guess The Loser

Didn't care for Whose Dick Is It?
     Well, you're right. That game show was crap. That's why I came up with this new one that will take America by storm.
     Television networks can line up to the left with their bags of cash.
     Heck, I've even supplied the theme song at no extra cost.
 
(theme song sung to Beck's Loser)
 
Somos generosos.
Guess the loser, baby,
And you'll be a winner.
 
This member of the 43rd president's administration shot his friend in the face while hunting.
 
"Dick Cheney?"
 
That is correct. Vice-President Dick Cheney.
 
One of this Hollywood predator's sexually abused victims was a poor potted plant.
 
"Harvey Weinstein?"
 
That is correct. Former Miramax and Weinstein Company executive Harvey Weinstein.
  
This drummer was kicked out of the most famous band in the world just before they hit it big.
 
"Pete Best?"
 
That is correct. Pete Best was the Beatles' first drummer. I guess you could say Pete came in second best to Ringo Starr.
 
Don't accept a drink from this famous sitcom and comedy star... if you're female, that is.
 
"Bill Cosby."
 
That is correct. The man with the colorful sweaters and endless supply of Quaaludes, Bill Cosby.
 
When they asked the actors who've play the role of James Bond to take a step forward if they wanted to play the part for a second time, they told this actor, "Not so fast, you!"
 
"George Lazenby?"
 
That is correct. The one and done George Lazenby.
 
This comedian lost his entire career when Kennedy was assassinated.
 
"Vaughn Meader?"
 
That is correct. Vaughn Meader. His career went so deep into the toilet that even I've never heard of him.
 
This political loser flies all around the world in his private jet complaining about people who abuse the earth with their carbon footprint and also likes "happy endings" when he gets a massage.
 
"Al Gore?"
 
That is correct. Al "I Was Really The One Who Was Elected President" Gore.
 
This former Secretary of State keeps trying to explain why she's not president.
 
"What difference does it make?"
 
Exactly.
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Sunday, January 7, 2018

Whose Dick Is It?

Welcome to America's hottest new game show!
       
He was the president who had to resigned in disgrace over the Watergate scandal cover-up.
 
"That's Pat Nixon's Dick."
 
Correct. Richard Nixon.
  
In a TV sitcom, this actor played the character of Darrin Stephens, who was married to a witch played by Elizabeth Montgomery.
 
"That's Bewitched's Dick."
 
Correct. Dick York or Dick Sargent, either Dick will do.
 
This drummer was known for the size of his nose and the number of rings he wore on his fingers.
 
"That's the Beatles' Dick."
 
Correct. Richard Starkey, better known as Ringo Starr.
 
Some say he was the real power behind our 43rd president.
 
"That's George Bush's Dick."
 
Correct. Vice-President Dick Cheney.
 
He played the black private eye "that's a sex machine to all the chicks."
 
"That's Shaft's Dick."
 
You're daaamn right.
   
   
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Monday, January 1, 2018

The Shower Curtain Rod

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine
desertexposure.com 
   
"Honey," my wife said, giving me her sweetest smile. "I need you to fix the shower curtain in dad's bathroom."
    “Again?” I questioned.
     “Again,” she confirmed.
    “But I just fixed it,” I griped.
    "Well, fix it again,” she countered.
    "It can't be broken," I insisted.
    "And yet it is," she insisted back.
    “Again?” I mumbled to myself, because I knew the only one in this room interested in hearing my complaints was me.
    I must have fixed that darn thing--what?--eight, nine, ten times? It seems I retired from a job I enjoyed just to spend that retirement fixing my father's shower curtain. It’s not that it’s hard to fix, because it’s not, but that’s not the problem.
    "The problem," I explained to my wife, "is that dad uses the curtain for support when he gets out of the shower. We have the same kind of rod in our shower, and how many times has it fallen? ZERO times."
    "I know," my wife agreed.
    That ended the conversation, because how do you argue with someone who’s agreeing with you? What she left out, however, was, "He's your dad." My wife is good that way. She never tells me, "He's your dad." She just tells me to fix the things he breaks.
    That's the funny thing. At one time my father could fix anything, and I mean anything. During World War Two, when he was stationed in the Philippines, he built a washing machine while fighting the Japanese. Well, not exactly while he was fighting the Japanese, but in between fighting the Japanese.
    I know that story is true, because I've seen pictures of the washing machine. It was essentially a barrel rigged to the front wheel of an Army Jeep. Crude, but effective.
    Had washing machines even been invented yet in the 1940s, or was this an original invention of his? That seems like too much work to look up, so let’s just say they weren’t. I’d rather continue writing this story than spend my time looking up unnecessary facts.
    Just then, my father walked into the kitchen and sat down, ready for breakfast.
    "What happened to the shower curtain, dad?" I asked him, putting aside the book I was reading, the one I told you about in my October column. It’s called “The Joke Man: Bow To Stern,” and it’s written by my favorite comedian, Jackie Martling. I had ordered it on jackiethejokeman.com, and it was shipped out on the 24th of that same month. I got the book a few days after, but haven’t been able to find the time to read it.
    I’ve been too busy fixing shower curtain rods.
    Hmm… maybe I should have ordered a book on home repair instead.
    My father looked over his shoulder to see if my wife was on her way with his food. She wisely kept her back to us.
    “What?” he said, turning back.
    “The shower curtain,” I repeated.
    "It's broken," he said.
    "What happened?" I asked him.
    "It just fell. I could fix it, but I know you like to take care of this stuff."
    I don't know where he got the idea I like to fix things, because I don’t. I remember, back when I knew everything, I told him that when I grew up I was going to hire handymen to do all my work for me. He laughed at that. When I grew up, I understood why he laughed, even though I was offended at the time.
    "It sure does break a lot," I told him.
    "Yeah," my dad said.  "It sure does." I guess he felt the need to say something else, because he added, “They just don’t make things the way they used to.”
    I tried to arch an eyebrow the way my wife does when she’s irritated with me, but I probably only managed to look like Popeye the Sailor, rather than a skeptical son.
    “They sure don’t,” I agreed, sarcastically.
    My wife put a plate of food in front of him, and my father began to eat with the enthusiasm of a man who doesn't have to constantly fix the things he breaks and leaves behind.
    "The problem is," my dad continued, pointing a forkful of scrambled egg at me, "there's something wrong with the rod in the shower area, it keeps falling.”
    My father emphasized his point by doing his David Copperfield impersonation and making the egg on his fork disappear.
    “Yeah, they just don't make things like they used to,” he repeated, chewing his breakfast. “Stuff, nowadays, is cheap. Those characters that built this house knew they were using cheap materials. That's why the rods keep falling by themselves."
    “Not the ‘rods,’ dad,” I wanted to tell him. “The rod in my shower is fine.”
    My wife glanced over her shoulder to see my reaction. It reminded me to keep my temper. I take issue with my dad telling me we live in a cheap house. My house is not cheap. Just the garage is probably worth more than the house I grew up in. I'd tell you how much it cost me, but I don't want any recently unemployed former Chicago community organizers showing up at my front door.
    So I fixed it.
    What's the big deal?
    And three more times, before the month was out, I had to fix it again.          
 
When I’m not busy making the same repairs over and over again,
you can find me doing nothing at
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com, JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com, or @JimDuchene.
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.Blogspot.com
RaisingMyFather.Blogspot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Saturday, December 16, 2017

A Christmas Canine

Bob Cratchit got up from his desk as Ebenezer Scrooge hunched over his account books.
     "Sir?" he said, tapping on the old man's door. "I've copied all the letters and filed the paperwork. I also brought in more firewood and swept out the ashes."
     Here, Bob Cratchit paused, and then began again.
     "And, well, it's closing time, Mr. Scrooge."
     "Fine," Scrooge replied. "If your work is finished, you may leave."
     "Mr. Scrooge?" Cratchit proceeded cautiously. "Tomorrow is Christmas, a day to spend with family."
     "Christmas? Bah!" Scrooge all but spat. "Fine. Take tomorrow off, but be here early the next day."
     "Yes, sir," Cratchit acquiesced. "You can count on it, sir."
     Cratchit pulled his coat snug around him.
     "Merry Christmas, Mr. Scrooge," he said, and then stood there.
     Waiting.
     "Well?" Scrooge said, getting up from his desk.
     "I just thought…"
     "You thought what, Cratchit?"
     "I just thought, it being Christmas and all, that there might be some kind of a bonus?"
     "A bonus?" Scrooge exclaimed, as if the word were distasteful to him.
     "Yes, sir," Cratchit continued. "A… ah... Christmas bonus."
     "Humbug!" Scrooge growled, and opened the front door to let Cratchit scurry out.
     On his way home, Bob Cratchit saw some neighborhood boys sledding down a hill.
     "Merry Christmas," he wished them, but his words could not conceal the sadness in his heart.
     Another Christmas without a bonus. It was not as if Ebenezer Scrooge paid an honest wage. If he did, then Bob Cratchit could make due with what he had, but the slave wages Scrooge recompensed were barely enough for Cratchit to honor his commitments, much less support his family.
     His wife performed miracles with the meager finances Cratchit brought home, but it was not enough for day to day expenses, much less to properly celebrate the holiest of holidays. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and there were still no presents for his children, nor would there be. It was easier back when he could merely wrap a small stone or a stick and call it a gift of the Magi, but his six children were too old to fall for that now.
     Cratchit smiled sadly to himself, remembering the potato he had convinced the children was a shy turtle. They loved their pet until it "ran away from home." Ran all the way to the dinner table, where it made a nice soup.
     His stomach rumbled at the memory. They barely had enough to eat, and, sometimes, not even that, much less food for a Christmas feast. The cupboards in his kitchen were as empty as the hole in Scrooge's heart which generosity should have filled.
     Cratchit stopped just under a streetlamp, his melancholy an unwelcome acquaintance. He felt too ashamed to go home with empty hands and barren pockets. A teardrop fell from his eye and landed on the tender snow between his feet.
     "I fear," Cratchit lamented to the salty liquid, "that I can ill afford to lose you as well."
     A stray, adrift in the empty streets, came to where Cratchit stood. Trembling and afraid, it made its cautious way to his side. Even frightened, the abandoned dog desired the friendship of a stranger, and was willing to chance a violent rebuke to attain this.
     "Alone and friendless, you come to me, eh?" Cratchit told the pup, rubbing its head affectionately.
     A wagging tail was its eager reply.
     "It seems I shall not go home bereft of blessings for my family, after all," Cratchit said cheerfully, and lifted the grateful animal close to his chest. "Thanks to you, my friend."
     When he entered his home, his joyous family greeted him with jubilation at the sight of the Christmas miracle in his arms.
     "A dog?" his wife gasped. "That's … that's wonderful!"
     Martha, Belinda, and Peter nudged at each other, trying to be the first to pet the happy dog's head. The two smaller children jumped up, trying to get a closer look.
     "God bless us," Tiny Tim sang out happily. "Especially this one."
     The following day, their bellies filled to bursting, the Cratchit family sat around a cozy fire and all agreed, it was the best dog they had ever eaten.
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Sunday, December 10, 2017

The Week In FIRED Tweets!

What's the most important thing to take with you when camping in the wilderness?
Your credit card.
For when you decide to rent a room instead.
 
This Just In!
Charles Manson!
DEAD!
After spending almost FIFTY years on Death row!
What did he die of?
Boredom.
 
This Just In!
Charles Manson!
DEAD!
"Remind me," asks a perplexed President Trump, "which season of Celebrity Apprentice was he on?"
  
This Just In!
Scientists determine alcohol causes cancer!
Let's face it, EVERYTHING causes cancer. 
 
This Just In!
Mourning the death of his one true love, a brokenhearted David Cassidy follows Charles Manson to the great hippy commune in the sky.
 
"Smile in the mirror. Do that every morning and you'll start to see a big difference in your life," advises Yoko Ono. "Oh, and marry a millionaire."
 
Why Black Friday?
Because White Friday is racist.
 
This Just In!
The White House confirms President Trump WON'T campaign for Alabama Senate candidate Roy Moore!
"Great!" exclaims a jubilant Moore. "Now I'm GUARANTEED to win!"
 
This Just In!
El Paso city government will return to a five-day work week!
"I guess I'll have to change my Fridays doing nothing back to spending my Fridays at work doing nothing," says one disgruntled employee.
 
This Just In!
North Korea launches ICBM!
Ending two-month lull in testing!
Why don't you feed your starving citizens instead?
"Why don't you mind your own business?" answers the well-fed Kim Jong-un.
 
This Just In!
Chicago, Illinois House Democrat U.S. Rep Luis Gutierrez WON'T run for 14th term!
"And it has nothing to do with any possible future allegations concerning sexual improprieties for which I'll apologize in advance."
 
This Just In!
Officials speculate gunman killed in Reno, Nevada high-rise may have had mental problems!
Duh! You think so?
 
This Just In!
NBC's Matt Lauer!
FIRED!
"I'm heartbroken for Matt. He is a dear, dear friend and my partner, and he is beloved by many, many people here," commented Savannah Guthrie. "Well... except for the women he raped, that is."
 
This Just In!
Minnesota Public Radio FIRES A Prairie Home Companion's host Garrison Keillor for sexual impropriety!
"How else is an ugly guy like me supposed to get laid?"
 
This Just In!
President Trump vows new North Korea sanctions over Kim Jong-un's provocative ICBM missile test.
"First, we'll take away his Twinkies," a spokesman commented, "and we'll see how it goes from there."
 
This Just In!
Government working hard to once again overhaul tax code!
Why is it the more politicians "fix" things the worse they get?
 
This Just In!
Singer Pink is raising her children to be "gender neutral"!
"I'm just trying to screw up my kids as much as humanly possible."
 
Modern Problems: "Where's my phone?"
Pre-Historic Problems: "Where's my leg? Oh, a saber tooth tiger is eating it."
 
This Just In!
A fired Matt Lauer "decides" to "retire" and spend more time with his family.
You know, the wife and kids he ignored while he was busy raping women.
 
Good friends are important.
Who else are you going to borrow money from?
 
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
Considering I could live another 60 to 70 years, I'd better go back to bed and get some sleep.
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Taking Medication

My father and I have just returned home from an appointment with his doctor.
    He doesn’t drive any more. Since he now lives with me, I find myself chauffeuring him around to conduct his personal business. I always thought the older you got, the less you did. Apparently, that’s not the case. At least with my father. I’m always taking him here or there, doing this or that.
    He’s closer to the end of his century than the beginning and has been diagnosed pre-Alzheimer’s. You might think that Alzheimer’s is something that happens to someone else, but don’t fool yourself, we’re all pre-Alzheimer’s. We just need to live long enough for it to catch up with us.
    It's 11am. Still early. He's studying the medicine his doctor prescribed, and which we've just picked up from the pharmacy.
    "Can you believe the price of this medication?" he asks.
    Of course I can. I just paid for it.
    "Now remember,” I tell him, “the doctor said you have to take it in the morning when you first wake up, with lots of water. Or you can take it right before you go to bed, but you have to take it on an empty stomach."
    We walk into the kitchen, and seat ourselves at the table. My wife comes up to say hello.
    "How did it go with the doctor?" she asks. "You guys hungry?"
    I look over at my wife. It's been a long day, and it's not even noon. She can see it in my eyes.
    "I'm not hungry, sweetie," I tell her.
    "Well, I am!" my father pipes up, so she starts to serve him.
    My father and I continue our conversation.
    "So I take it when I get up," he tells me.
    "That's right, or before you go to bed. The important thing is that you don't eat anything before you take it."
    "But I take it in the morning."
    "Yes," I repeat, "as soon as you get up, but before you eat anything."
    "I can't eat anything?"
    "That's right."
    He looks at the food in front of him.
    "But I'm hungry."
    "You can eat now, dad, but just not before taking your medicine."
    He starts to dig in on the feast my wife just served him. She's a good cook. My father's a good eater. It’s a match made in Heaven.
    Speaking of my wife, she knows the direction this conversation is taking, so she gives me a little wave and makes her escape. I give her a little smile. A very little smile.
    Chomp, chomp!
    "Are you sure that's what the doctor said?" my father says between bites. "I've always heard you have to eat before you take your medication."
    "That's true, but with this medicine you have to take it on an empty stomach.”
    "I don't know about these pills. I don't think they'll do me any good."
    "They might."
    "And you're telling me I can take it in the morning or at night?"
    "That's right. Take it as soon as you get up, or right before you go to bed. It just has to be on an empty stomach."
    "But I'm hungry in the morning. Does this mean I can't eat all day?"
    He takes another big bite of food.
    "No, it means that you take it as soon as you get up. You can have breakfast after that. Or you can take it at night before you go to bed. It just has to be on an empty stomach."
    "But I always have ice cream before I go to bed."
    I'm too tired to answer.
    "Well, I guess your wife can serve me less," he says.
    Chomp, chomp!
    And then continues.
    "She always serves me too much."
    He thinks, and then he thinks a little more.
    "Why can't I just take it now?" he says. "What difference does it make?"
    "I don’t know, dad, that’s just what the doctor said."
    "Doctors," he sniffs, and rubs his nose in disgust. "They don't know everything."
    "Just do it, dad."
    "Okay, okay. So you're saying that I take the medication as soon as I wake up."
    "You've got it. As soon as you get up, take your medicine. You can have your breakfast after that."
    "But sometimes I go for a walk with my dog before I have breakfast."
    "That's fine, dad. Just take your medicine when you wake up, go on your walk, and when you get back you can eat."
    "I don't know about those characters. I tell you, sometimes doctors don't know what they're doing."
    CHOMP!
    "So I'll take this medication right after I wake up but before I eat. After I brush my teeth and take my shower."
    "That's right," I say, happy he’s finally gotten it.
    "Hmmm..." he says, checking out the bottle. The pills are small, and the directions are right there on the label. "...ahh... well."
    He's continued eating throughout this whole conversation, but he's finally done. He then gets up, grabs his medicine, and tells me on his way out:
    "I guess I'll go take my medication now.
     
Full or empty, your stomach can visit me at RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com, JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com, or @JimDuchene.
 
as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine
desertexposure.com
   
 

American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene