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Today is Thursday, January 4, the 4th day of 2007. There are 361
to go. The Sun is at 13-14 Capricorn. The moon is waning.
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From GCFL
These are more actual analogies and metaphors
found in high school essays.
- John and Mary had never met. They were like
two hummingbirds who had also never met.
- He fell for her like his heart was a mob
informant and she was the East River.
- Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind
like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had
rusted shut.
- Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
- The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law
Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
- The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind
you get from not eating for a while.
- He was as lame as a duck. Not the
metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame.
Maybe from stepping on a landmine or something.
- The Ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and
extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
- It was an American tradition, like fathers
chasing kids with power tools.
- He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he
thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
- Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they
had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
- She walked into my office like a centipede
with 98 missing legs.
- Her voice had that tense grating quality,
like a generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band
tightening.
- It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you
accidentally staple it to the wall.
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New Years q
u o t e s
"New Year's Day: Now is the accepted time to
make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin
paving hell with them as usual."
--Mark Twain
"Cheers to a new year and another chance for us
to get it right."
--Oprah Winfrey
"Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late
on New Year's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to."
--Bill Vaughn
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A mother mouse
and a baby mouse are walking along, when all of a sudden, a cat attacks
them. The mother mouse yells, "BARK!" and the cat runs away.
"See?" says the mother mouse to her baby. "Now
do you understand why it's important to learn a foreign language?"
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David
Letterman's Top Ten
George W. Bush New Year's Resolutions:
10. Fewer decisions based on wild, drunken
hunches
9. Have N.S.A. find out what really happened
between Nick and Jessica
8. Stop using Situation Room monitors to play
X-Box 360
7. More C-SPAN, less "Yes, Dear"
6. Team up with leading scientists to make
Cheetos even cheesier
5. To capture and bring to justice King Kong
4. Beat the twins at beer pong
3. Respond to reporters questions with, "Bitch,
don't go there"
2. Scale back on grueling 12-hour work week
1. "Who needs resolutons? Everythng is fine"
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As a young
married couple, a husband and a wife lived in a cheap housing complex
near the military base where he was working.
Their chief complaint was that the walls were
paper-thin and that they had no privacy. This was painfully obvious
when one morning the husband was upstairs and the wife was downstairs
on the telephone.
She was interrupted by the doorbell and went to
greet her neighbor.
"Give this to your husband," he said, thrusting
a roll of toilet paper into her hands. "He's been yelling for it for 15 minutes!"
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From teddi
She frowned
and called him Mr.
Because in sport he kr.
And so in spite
That very night
This Mr. kr. sr.
--Ogden Nash
A couple of
groanerrs
My office collects care packages of snack food
and reading materials to be sent to the Army Reserve stationed in the
Middle East. Among the suggestions for gifts was rat poison, apparently
to deal with a persistent problem in their housing units.
"That's a first," I said to my co-workers. "Now we're sending packages
to Afghanistan containing weapons of mouse destruction."
---
Mr. Combs had a furniture store specializing in
ornate antiques in the baroque style. He had walking pneumonia last
month but was at the store anyway. He was in one of the baroque style
chairs rubbing Vicks Vaporub on his aching chest when he
serendipitously discovered that the soothing ointment gave the
furniture a wonderful, deep, rich shine.
He immediately told the other furniture store owners, since their
furniture was more modern in style and they were not competitors. Soon
he got reports that the Vicks treatment not only failed to work on the
modern furniture, but ruined some of it.
Mr. Combs is very unpopular now, and his only consolation is that he
learned one important rule:
If it's not baroque, don't Vicks it.
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From Rich Galen
Taking Down
the Christmas Tree
Rich Galen
The holiday
season is now officially complete at Mullings Central. I consider it
another triumph over elementary physics and psychology that, once
again, our house did not burn down and divorce proceedings were not
begun.
I spent the past month looking warily at cheap,
electrical rigging (which had been stored in a damp, garage for the
previous 11 months) wrapped around a dead, tinder-dry pine tree.
There is an even greater menace outside, where
live electrical devices have been wrapped around dead, tinder-dry
greenery, draping the front door against which rain occasionally beats.
With the ferocity of Tropical Storm Zeta.
The Christmas tree is brought INTO the house
each year by two fat guys, wheezing and puffing their way up the
stairs. The tree is delivered in a condition which is known as "fresh,"
which is like saying the Enron and WorldCom annual financial statements
were "complete."
In usage, a "fresh tree" is one on which the
needles more-or-less stay attached to the branches unless something
actually brushes up against them. This condition lasts for about 20
minutes after the tree comes to your house and the fat guys leave -
cash only, thank you very much.
My first job of the holiday season is to put
hot water into the container under the tree to "improve the uptake," as
the two graduate agronomists with the sagging jeans who delivered the
tree put it.
This requires me to: Fill a pot ("Why don't you
use a pitcher?") with hot water;
Carry it from the kitchen to the living room
under the watchful, if not worshipful, eye of the Mullings Director of
Standards & Practices;
Spill, maybe, molecular amounts (a mist; wisps,
really), not, as SOME people have claimed, enough to cause the hardwood
floors to warp;
Crawl under the tree getting stabbed in the
arms, the neck, and the forehead by the barely-attached (and
aptly-named) needles, and;
Fill the container.
All while joyously humming Christmas carols.
In our house this procedure is affectionately
known as the "Sacrament of the Renewal of our Marriage Vows."
Now, several weeks later, comes the "Taking
Down the Tree" ceremony. Removing the angels, the candles, and the
other tchachkas is simple. But the tree itself is a potential deal
breaker. And the lights.
Christmas lights costs about ten cents per
million running feet and are on sale at your local CVS from the Fourth
of July onward. Given the loving care with which the Christmas lights
in our house are treated, you might think they were the ones which lit
the actual manger in Bethlehem. "What are you doing? "
"I'm rolling up the lights."
"You are not rolling them up. You're bunching
them up. They'll get tangled. "
"What difference does it make? We'll buy new
ones next year."
"That's a waste of money. "
"We'll buy them now when they're half off."
"They'll get lost by next year. "
"Why won't THESE get lost by next year?"
This is known, as the "Rite of the MD of
S&P Standing With Arms Akimbo" and always ends with the same six
words: "Never mind. I'll do it myself."
About
Christmas day, when the tree was well beyond "fresh," the needles have
a tendency fall off any time you got within three feet, creating any
zephyr of air flow around it.
However, during the final week of the regular
NFL season a sideways glance causes a blizzard of tiny green spikes to
fly through the air and land exactly where someone might have placed
their forearm on the arm of the sofa.
By this weekend, a dog barking anywhere in the
neighborhood causes the needles to leap off the tree burying themselves
in the carpet, in the furniture and, as it is being carried it through
the entire length of the house to the back deck for its heroic swan
dive to the driveway below, into every cell of unprotected skin.
The branches always stick out a little farther
than you think and so they tend to scratch the paint in the doorways
which leads to the annual "Why Didn't You Let Me Help You?" ritual, as
if two of us struggling with the unwieldy thing would have made the
branches fold back nicely against the trunk, thus avoiding the annual
"Knocking Over the Topiary on the Kitchen Counter" procedure.
Today, the decorations are back in their boxes,
the boxes are back in the closet, the tree will removed by the people
who remove trees, and I'll have those lights untangled by … Fourth of
July. Easy.
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OK, move along, that's all there
is, move along please ....
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Housekeeping:
While I write some of what appears in my newsletters, mostly it is
stuff that's
merely passed on, often without attribution. If at all possible,
attribution is
given, and any copyright notice, if copyrighted material is used at
all,
is ALWAYS included. Written permission(s) (email-I can't
handwrite) are
sought where practicable. If you see anything at all that shouldn't be
there,
should be differently attributed, or is objectionable in any way,
please let me
know by simply writing
to me . In no event is any income derived, and so the following
notice is
included:
*COPYRIGHT NOTICE** In accordance with Title 17 U. S. C. Section 107,
any
copyrighted work in this message is distributed under fair use without
profit
or payment..
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Build a better life by stealing office supplies.
- Dogbert
Home is where the grab
bars are.