Wednesday, December 26, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Day After Christmas Edition!

Santa should spread his deliveries out over the course of a year.
Doing it all in one night is a classic example of bad management.
 
Each year I have a bigger Christmas tree than the year before.
That's the best thing about having a dirt floor.
 
Who said: "Ask, that ye shall receive."?
I'm guessing Santa Claus.
 
I'm not materialistic.
You can get me anything you want for Christmas...
...as long as you wrap it in cash.
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Wednesday, October 31, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Undead McCain Edition!

Hammer Films Presents!
Zombie McCain!
"When there is no more room in Hell... John McCain will walk the earth!"
 
Just in time for Halloween!
Hammer Films Presents!
Dracula Vs The Monster!
Starring John McCain as the fey political bloodsucker and Ron Jeremy as the foul-smelling Dr. Crapenstein!
 
Fake News Reports!
John McCain Comes Back From The Dead!
MURDERS Dennis Hoff!
"My 'little soldier' hasn't saluted since Viet Nam," he admitted to Ron Jeremy. "If I'M not getting any, NOBODY'S getting any!"
 
Fake News Reports!
John McCain GOBBLES Ron Jeremy's Goblin!
Swears him to secrecy!
"Wouldn't you rather have one of the Bunny Ranch's prostitutes?" the geriatric porn star offers.
"Gimme dat goblin!" McCain insists.
 
Fake News Reports!
Zombie John McCain EATS The Newly Dead Dennis Hoff!
"I'm having a ball," he says.
"That's because you're eating too fast," Ron Jeremy points out.
 
Fake News Reports!
In The Vile John McCain's Most Evil Act Yet...
Johnny "Wet-Start" Leaves The Bunny Ranch WITHOUT PAYING!
 
Fake News Reports!
John McCain CONFESSES To Evil Plan Of Bringing The Dead Back To Life!
"By 'the dead,' I'm talking about my penis."
 
Fake News Reports!
Back From The Dead, John McCain Spotted Drinking The Blood Of Republican Babies!
 
People are afraid of clowns, but what are clowns afraid of?
John McCain!
 
Is there something hiding in your closet?
Of course there is...
John McCain!
 
You know that feeling you get that someone is watching you?
That someone is John McCain!
 
John McCain has a good head on his shoulders...
...and another one in his refrigerator.
 
John McCain!
That last scream you hear will be your own!
 
John McCain!
If you don't wake up screaming, you won't wake up at all!
 
John McCain!
Back From The DEAD...
...with a few days TO KILL!
 
If John McCain doesn't scare you...
...you're already dead.
 
It's not fear that tears you apart...
...it's John McCain!
 
  American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
  

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

The Raven (edited for time)

Back in the day, writers used to be paid by the word, that’s why our classics are so looong. And, in addition to that, what else was there to do? You could spend six hours enjoying an opera, and not feel it’s gone on five hours too long, much like the fans at a baseball game.
     You can’t tell me Edgar Allan Poe’s classic poem The Raven doesn’t ramble far longer than it should. I don’t know what seems longer, reading The Raven or suffering through one of my mother-in-law’s visits.
     At any rate, that’s why I rewrote it for today’s audience.
     An audience whose time and attention span is limited.
 
The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary,
My eyes bloodshot, my vision bleary,
Something knock-knock-knocked at my chamber door.

Feeling, I, a wee bit drunky,
Hadn’t bathed, smelling funky,
So whomever was there I decided to ignore.

Yet there it waited, a stately raven,
An ebony bird in search of haven,
Thus it continued knocking, and then knocked some more.

“Get out!” I yelled, feeling pissy.

“I don’t care if you’re a male or missy,
Please exit thou from my chamber door!”

Yet, like an ex, it wouldn’t leave,
Thereupon causing me to lust and grieve
For my hot 13-year-old cousin named Lenore.


 
And so my sobriety I am quitting
As the Raven, never flitting,
Still is sitting, still is sitting.
I shall be sober... nevermore.


American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.comRaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene 
  

Sunday, October 28, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Bombtober Edition!

Fake News Reports!
Daniel Frisiello Pleads GUILTY To Sending President Trump's Sons Threatening Letters With A White Powder Enclosed!
"Mental note: Next time, DON'T include my return address."
 
Fake News Reports!
Democrats Say The Migrant Caravan Should Be Let Into Our Country!
And they can stay with THEM?
"Are you out of your FRAKKING mind?"
 
Fake News Reports!
Rihanna Announces She WILL NOT Perform At The Super Bowl!
"As it turns out," she says, "you have to be asked to do those kinds of things."
 
Fake News Reports!
Amy Shumer Announces She WILL NOT Be Starring In Any Of This Year's Super Bowl Commercials!
Has she been asked?
"What does THAT have to do with anything?" she said, trying to restart her career.
 
"When I said to be uncivil... I didn't mean to ME!"
--Hillary Clinton
 
"Hey, I said, 'If they bring a knife to a fight, WE bring a gun,' but I didn't say nothing about no BOMB."
--President Obama
 
"When I said, 'When they go low...' to KICK them, I was talking about Republicans, not Democrats."
--Eric Holder
 
"When I called on the dogs to attack, I didn't think they'd attack ME!"
--Maxine Waters
 
"I ain't scared."
--Maxine Waters about bomb
Apparently, she ain't articulate either.
 
"A device--possibly a bomb--has been sent to MY office. As it turns out, it was only a bribe."
--New York's Mario Cuomo
 
"Thank you, Cesar Sayoc, for not forgetting about me."
--Joe "I Want To Beat Up Trump" Biden
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Monday, October 22, 2018

Bananas Revisited: The Migrant Caravan

Our migrant caravan, the one heading to the United States from Central America as we speak, has grown to seven thousand foreign nationals strong, all of us planning to enter the U.S. illegally. The question I’m most asked by CNN reporters is this:     “Just how do you FEED all those people?”     This question isn’t new to me. I’ve wondered the same thing ever since I first learned about the history of warfare in the little one-room escuela in Honduras. The Hun Army, The Mongol Invasion, Rosie O’Donnell... just how do you feed THOUSANDS?      You could live off the land, but an army of empty bellies would lay waste to the natural resources like locust.

    HUMAN locust.
    I got my answer like I get most of my answers... from Woody Allen.
    Having been the only one of us who had seen a recent airing of Woody’s early classic movie Bananas on the Turner Classic Movie (TCM) channel, I suggested a scenario for feeding the tired, the poor, the hungry masses of future welfare recipients yearning to be Democrats.
    Here’s an excerpt about that scenario from the diary Brett Kavanaugh recommended I always keep:
 
Along the route this migrant caravan is taking, we happen upon a charming Mexican cafe. This is where I hatch my devious plan.
    But first, the volunteers.
    I am not the one in charge. That would be Soros, and he comes up with some straws plucked from a broom Nancy Pelosi’s future housekeeper was carrying with her.
    There are five of us. Soros first hands Beto a long straw. Then he hands Pablo a long straw. He hands Carlos a long straw and keeps a long straw for himself.
    “Short straw goes,” he tells me, handing me the short straw.
    “Well,” I say, “as long as it was fair.”
    I leave, and, with two other “volunteers,” we enter the cafe.
    “Bienvenidos,” the cafe owner greets us. “May I be of service?”
    I lean up against the counter nonchalantly.
    “Coffee, please,” I tell him, and then add after a casual pause, “I also want something to go."
    “Yes?” he says, without getting me my coffee.
    Capitalist swine.
    “Do you have any grilled cheese sandwiches?" I ask, trying not to betray my contempt.
    “Yes, sir,” he tells me, his pad and pencil at the ready.
    “Well,” I say, pretending to think, “let me have four thousand.”
    “Four thousand?"
    "Yes, that sounds about right. Also, a thousand tuna fish. And two thousand BLTs. That’s bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches."
    “BLTs, ,” he said. “You want the cheese on rye?"
    “On rye,” I confirm, and then go back to where we were. “For the BLTs, let me have half on whole wheat and half on white bread."
    “Gustavo wanted his on a roll,” Nacho, one of the volunteers, reminds me.
    “And one on a roll,” I repeat.
    “And the tuna?" the owner asks.
    “All the tuna on whole wheat,” I tell him.
    “Anything else?"
    “All the BLTs, we'll have on toast."
    “Right,” he says, continuing to write on his pad. “And what to drink?"
    “Let me have a thousand regular coffees, six decafs, three thousand Cokes and two thousand Diet Cokes. And nine hundred ninety-four 7-Ups."
    “No 7-Up,” he tells me. “Sprite."
    “Sprite is fine,” I assure him. “And also coleslaw for seven thousand."
    “Coleslaw for seven thousand, right. Anything else?"
    “Mayonnaise on the side."
    “Got it."
    He leaves to prepare our order. We wait, trying to act completely natural. He still hasn’t brought me my coffee, I note bitterly.
    Finally...
    “Everything is ready, sir,” he tells us, coming out of the back with our order.
    “Which one is the roll?" I ask him.
    “I have it right here,” he says, handing me a small brown paper bag, crumpled at the top.
    “Ok,” I say, looking inside the bag. “What about the coleslaw?"
    “It's coming, sir,” he assures me, and, sure enough, from the back comes wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow filled with coleslaw. “Here's your coleslaw, sir."
    He does some scribbling on his pad and double-checks his figures.
    “That will be forty-six thousand eighty-seven pesos and forty-two cents, sir,” he tells me with a smile. “The gratuity is included."
    We pull out our guns.
    That wipes the smile off his face.
    “We're the migrant caravan, señor,” I tell him.Get your filthy money from Presidente Trump!"
     Viva La Inmigración!
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Sunday, October 21, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Spooktober Edition!

Fake News Reports!
Diane Gardea, a fugitive on El Paso's Most Wanted list, was arrested at her east side home!
"They'll never look for me here," she chuckled, just before they broke down the door.
 
I...
Am...
The...
World's...
Fastest...
Snail.
 
I'm not saying they're ugly, but I don't blame caterpillars for wanting to be butterflies.
 
Fake News Reports!
Experts Warn Hurricane Michael Will Be DEVESTATING!
"Why hasn't President Trump STOPPED it!?" bemoan Democrats.
 
I don't do social media.
Technology may have given us more ways to communicate, but it's just given me more ways to avoid people.
 
Fake News Reports!
A CDC survey has determined that a lot of people eat fast food.
Another survey that cost taxpayers millions of dollars recommends breathing "if you want to stay alive."
 
My company has a very strict policy concerning taking time off for a death in the family.
In order for me to get the day off, the person who dies has to be ME.
 
As a child, I always got in trouble for not washing my hands after using the bathroom. That taught me a VERY important lesson:
ALWAYS run the water for a few seconds before leaving the bathroom.
 
When I need advice, I always go to my ex first.
I like to start at the bottom.
 
My car mechanic must think I'm stupid.
He just told me my tires need to be rotated.
"Hey," I told him, "my tires rotate on their own every time I drive."
   
   
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
   

Sunday, October 7, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Blogtober Edition!

You know you're a loser when you're able to write your Last Will & Testament on Twitter.
 
It takes a monster to make a monster.
 
I'm not half as great as I think I am.
But that's still pretty good.
 
An Ouija board is a doorway between the supernatural and the gullible.
 
I'm not saying I procrastinate, but my smoke detector comes with a snooze button.
 
Good morning, Democrats!
Whose life shall we destroy today?
 
I have a great exercise program.
I run late ALL the time.
 
Success 101
Nothing is impossible.
The word itself says "I'm possible."
  
Self-delusion is the same as success, only you don't have to work as hard.
  
I try to live each day like it's my birthday.
I eat more cake that way.
  
Old age doesn't sneak up on you gradually.
It attacks you overnight.
  
  
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
   

Saturday, September 22, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Serena Williams Edition!

Success 101
You'll know you're successful the first time you hear someone brag that they knew you in high school.
 
Save The Whales!
Unless they taste good.
 
Daffynitions!
Expert: A person who may not have all the answers, but is sure he could get them with the proper funding.
 
I'm at an age where lunch tires me out.
 
Fake News Reports!
Colin Kaepernick Is The New Face Of Nike!
Congratulations, Nike.
You've just re-elected President Trump.
 
Fake News Reports!
Pastor Charles H. Ellis III GROPES Ariana Grande At Aretha Franklin's Funerals On LIVE TV!
And what did her fiancé Pete Davidson do?
Nothing.
He was too busy hiding behind Ann Coulter's mini-skirt.
 
My first marriage was like my ex at the gym...
It just didn't work out.
 
Fake News Reports!
Serena Williams LOSES Open Final In Controversial Match!
Accuses Chair Umpire Of Being Sexist!
"That's COMPLETELY untrue," the chair umpire defended himself. "I'm a RACIST."
 
Fake News Reports!
Detroit Food Truck Owner REFUSES To Serve Law Enforcement Officers!
"Hey, why am I being constantly robbed all of a sudden?" he wonders, now that all the cops are gone.
 
I hate saying I told you so.
That's a lie...
I LOVE saying I told you so.
 
The secret to my staying fit is my extensive long-distance jogging regimen.
Every day I run one lap around my ex.
 
Fake News Reports!
"Serena Williams! Serena Williams! Serena Williams! Serena Williams! Serena Williams!"
What about the girl who beat her?
"Who?"
 
Experts say that running will add three years to your life.
Unfortunately, those three years are spent running.
 
Fake News Reports!
Hurricane Florence Will Be DEVESTATING!
In other words, it will be just like every other hurricane that's ever happened.
"Uh, yeah."
 
My wife wants to buy our baby organic diapers.
I tell her our baby takes care of that herself.
 
Fake News Reports!
The Hannover Zoo in Germany is sending its last orangutan to Louisiana.
Why?
"We found out its name was Sid Rosenberg," they explained, sheepishly.
 
Tomorrow seems like a good day to stop procrastinating.
 
Success 101
When your work speaks for itself...
Don't interrupt.
 
I'm not saying my ex is ugly, but when an enchanted frog was going to ask her for a kiss, he settled for a handshake instead.
 
Real discipline is when you can pick strawberries without eating any.
 
A man's home is his castle.
But he's only in charge of cleaning the moats.
 
I'm multilingual.
I can borrow money in 14 different languages.
 
I'm the opposite of a hypochondriac.
Every time I get sick, I think it's nothing.
 
Tiger sharks need to make up their minds.
 
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

Saturday, September 8, 2018

Lest You Think

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine
desertexposure.com 
 
Lest you think I consider my father a burden, I don't.
    It's just if all I wrote about were unicorns and rainbows, both you and I would be bored. Besides, I find everything my father does incredibly entertaining. Maybe not at the time, but, you know, when I look back. Now I understand the saying, "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you." I'm not laughing at my father, because I'm just like him. I'm laughing with him, because I can see what the future has in store for me.
    Old age takes pity on no one.
    One of the reasons we bought this particular house is because it had a small guest house in the front where we knew my father could live and have his privacy. It was a way for him to keep his independence, yet let us keep an eye on him at the same time. In his home away from home he has his own TV with its own satellite signal. Now that I think about it, his TV gets more stations than mine does. He has a radio/CD player. Telephone. Refrigerated air. Heck, it sounds so good, I think I'm going to start living there.
    The problem is he likes to watch TV in the main house, and that forces everybody else to watch TV someplace else. While he's busy hogging the TV, he's also busy complaining our house is too cold.
    "Why don't you put on a sweater, dad?" my wife will ask him.
    "I don't want to wear a sweater."
    "But, if you're cold, a sweater might help warm you up."
    "The problem isn't that I'm cold, the problem is that the house is cold."
    So my wife will feel sorry for him, turn up the heat, and the rest of us have to suffer.
    "Pop," I've told him, sweating like a pig, "maybe you'd be more comfortable watching TV in your room."
    "I don’t think so."
    "You could watch what you want to watch."
    "I do that here."
    "You could have your house as warm as you want."
    "I don't know, it's pretty warm here. Except when it's cold."
    So what can I do? I sit in a hot house watching something on TV that doesn't particularly entertain me, and, man, I hate the heat. I try to avoid it like it was the police. You can dress for the cold. You can put on a sweater, you can wear a scarf, but there's nothing you can do about the heat. When it's hot, it's just hot.
    The times I beat my father to the TV, he'll come in, sit down, and watch for a bit. Then he'll look at me, and then back at the TV. At me, then the TV. Me. The TV.
    "There's not a baseball game on?" he'll ask no one in particular.
    He knows perfectly well there's a baseball game on. In fact, we pay extra for an entire channel devoted to nothing but baseball games for him. So, at any given time, my father can watch one if he wants to...  and he always wants to.
    "This show's pretty good, pop. You should give it a chance."
    "Oh, okay," he’ll say.  And he'll watch. For awhile. Then he'll look at me, and then back at the TV. At me, then the TV. Me. The TV.
    "There's not a baseball game on?"
    My wife will eventually feel sorry enough for him to change the channel from whatever it is I'm watching.
    "Can you also turn up the heat?" he'll ask her. "It's too cold in here."
    Once again, I can't watch my programs. I think he pretends to watch baseball on the outside, and laughs at me on the inside.
    "Heh, heh, heh," he laughs to himself. "Heh, heh, heh."
    Trust me, I understand why my father prefers watching baseball. He's hard of hearing, so it's difficult for him to follow the stories on the programs I watch. Baseball, he understands, and when he can't hear the color commentators, he makes it up himself.
    "You know," he'll say, in between chewing on the snacks my lovely wife provides. Smack, smack, smack. "These games are fixed."
    "Are they, pop?"
    "Yeah--smack, smack--fixed. I don't even know why I watch them."
    “I don’t either.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    The bases might be loaded, and the batter will hit a home run.
    "See?  I knew he was going to hit a home run. I had that feeling--smack, smack, smack--the games are fixed--smack--I knew they were going to win the game."
    "Did you, pop?"
    "Ahhh, yeah. They're all fixed so the owners can make more money." He'll laugh, and shake his head a bit. "I don't know, I don't know. How else can you explain their scoring four runs and winning?"
    "Maybe the batter just hit a home run, pop. I mean, somebody has to win."
    "Nah, they're fixed. How else can you explain it?"
    By this time my wife will have already gone upstairs to bed.
    "Goodnight, pop," I'll tell him.
    "Huh… ahh... wha?"
    "I'm going to bed, pop. Can you turn off the TV and lights before you go to bed?"
    "Sure, son. Don't worry."
    And then, sometime in the middle of the night, I'll wake up, go check the locks, and find the TV, the lights, and the heater all on. The door leading out of our house and to his will be unlocked, and my father will be in his room. Sleeping like a baby. He knows how to turn everything off, but for some reason he won't do it.
    Maybe that's his way of paying me back for not letting him watch baseball.
  
Lest you think I’ve forgotten, you can find more nonsense at RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com, JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com, and @JimDuchene.
   
 
American Chimpanzee
JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene