Looney Tunes Time

It is raining, cold and miserable here in northern Arizona today. I can only offer these few laughable cartoons today in hopes someone else needs a lift.... I will take the laptop in the garage and show these to my Harley in hopes of lifting her spirits too!






































































If a guy this ugly can make it...we all can!!

I'm just saying,

Mittster

Brain Power

As our bodies start to show age and a multitude of physical systems slowly begin to break down, time marches through our bodies like the Angel of Death swinging his sickle with malice of forethought. He attacks our skin, muscles, hair, eyes and even our unmentionables. Yes, even our desires start to wane. It is like our whole body starts to crumble down around us and, like Humpty Dumpty; we are powerless to stop the fall.




Some can’t stand the thought of decline, so they have tummy tucks, butt tucks, eyelid tucks, arm tucks, breast tucks, face lifts and, in fact, I don’t think there is anything that can’t be tucked, lifted or enlarged. Of course one exception is the hair transplant, which explains why some people look like “The Donald Trump.” But, alas…even after thousands and thousands of dollars spent tucking, plucking, sucking, adding, subtracting, injecting and objecting, Father Time still has his way with us.




There is one horrible exception; our brains watch the destruction of our bodies with relish and great pleasure. The torture is sublime for our all seeing mind’s eye. It’s the payback for all the times we drank too much, smoked too much, partied too much, made love too much (maybe not this one) and generally abused our bodies. The brain never forgets and waits patiently for “The Decline.” It is simply insidious that we have to watch our young, firm bodies start to sag ever lower toward the ground while our brain still dances and kicks its neurons high in the air with laughter and pure delight.




You see the mind holds consciousness and our brain knows that even before we are born. While the doctor slaps our butts after delivery, the brain starts planning revenge for things that haven’t even happened yet! The brain is thinking, I feel future abuse coming soon – isn’t it grand! Since consciousness goes on forever, the brain never really dies. How unfair is that? Our brains make us watch our own demise second after second, minute after minute, day after day, year after year – OK, you get it.




Well, I’ve got news for you Mr. Brain; I have a plan. From this moment on, I am going to wear a full body, black cloak. Yes, it will even cover my head. I have an eight day supply of cloaks so that when they need cleaning I will still have an extra one to wear. Oh, by the way, during showers and cloak cleaning days, I will be wearing a Zorro mask without holes for the eyes. I will not be able to see my body, nor will I touch my body without gloves. There is no way I will know how fast I am aging.




Oh, yes, I know what you are thinking; I will never see my body again.




On this point you are correct, but the beauty of this plan is that you won’t get too see my body ever again either! "What do you think about that Mr. Smarty Brain? What did you say? I will still feel my body shrinking slowly to the floor under the cloak?"




Damn, foiled again! Is there no way to outwit the brain? I think not….

I’m just saying,

Mittster

Daredevil's Delight

I like to ride motorcycles as much as the next person, but whatever possessed this guy? While I have hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon many times, the idiot on this bike is only going to drop in once!




Daredevil my ass...this guy just doesn't understand the physics of water!




I do like this daredevil's style…only the second mouse gets the cheese!




Why drive the L.A. freeways for free when you can go to a track and get paid for it. Tallyho!




Man that knocked my dick string loose!




How to make a human "Moon Pie!"




What happened next was too obscene to show and tell….




These mountain climbers have been in this position for twenty five years. Due to global warming, the rescue attempt should happen in about a year. Family and friends can hardly wait.







These daredevil Ozark brothers are the proud father of a baby boy born from their sister, Mable.




The biker lived through this fiery ordeal. Unfortunately the idiot who ignited the fire did not!




Sex is only possible on the wing of a flying airplane if the man is someone other than the pilot!




I be one of the yellow-bellies!

I'm just saying,

Mittster

Writer's Cramp

Yes, it’s true…I have writer’s cramp. Dirty words to be sure, but true nonetheless. I am so embarrassed to admit this condition on the Internet, but someone needs to stand up and be counted for the hundreds, if not thousands, of newbie writers out there who have this affliction but are afraid to come out of the closet. I have tried everything I can think of to remedy this situation, including soaking my hands in hot water and Epsom salt and me in vodka, but nothing seems to work.




I have tried therapy, but alas, no one in the group has writer’s cramp anymore. Instead, they have all become alcoholics from vodka – so why should I listen to them.




Besides, even though the group therapist is not hooked on vodka, she is not even a novelist. How could she know the shame of writer’s cramp?




As I look back on my writing experiences and the colossal challenge of writing and publishing two murder mysteries, it becomes apparent that writer’s cramp syndrome did not affect me until after I started trying to market my books on Facebook, Twitter, Websites, Amazon and God only knows how many other Internet sites designed to sell books. One bright side of not being able to use my hands is that I am not pulling what’s left of my hair out due to poor book sales!

While sitting here poking the keys on the keyboard with pencils taped between each claw hand in an effort to get my message of despair out to the handful of readers who might stumble on my blog, it behooves me to remember that readers are easily turned off by sniffling, pathetic, wannabe writers who can’t handle rejection.




Oh, what’s the use – wait a minute, I am receiving an e-mail from an author friend who claims to have cured her writer’s cramp. Can it be true? Is there a chance for me? OMG, I have finally found the cure as suggested by novelist Eri Nelson in her e-mail. She has lost her Internet connection now for over a week and her writer’s cramp has disappeared. Excuse me while I take a hammer to my modem and router. By the time I am able to replace the hardware and reboot my computer, I too shall be cured of writer’s cramps. Glory be and thank you, Eri….

Write on? Not!

Mittster

The Secret Dirty Look

Millions saw this secret dirty look...rightfully deserved I would suspect.




No explanation needed here. I don't even like wiping my own butt, let alone someone else’s. Yes, I was a bad dad, but I had plenty of company!




"Please, God, don't let my wife find out about last night. I promise never to do it again!" Definition of a man: Rounder, scum bag, cheater, idiot. Why have steak and lobster at home when you can have hamburger and tripe elsewhere.




Not to worry little one, I hated my oatmeal too! My dad used to rap the back of my head if I gagged on a lump. How could you not gag on a nasty lump of oatmeal?




This was not timeout at the mall because of bad behavior. This was my parents leaving me and hoping I would not find my way home. They took my twin brother with them. I knew they always loved him best!




I remember this look from my fourth grade teacher when I brought a horn toad to class and left it in my desk drawer. The old bitty found the critter after class and had to be rushed to the hospital. "It was only a toad," I explained to my dad. "It's only a spanking," my dad explained to me.




Not so secret dirty look from our assistant football coach in high school.

I'm just saying,

Mittster