Sunday, December 29, 2019
Skimpy batch of tweets of the month
Man, I’ve been so busy I have barely had time to tweet. Think about that. There are just 16 here — and one of them is a knock-knock joke! It used to be nothing for me to run off 60 or 70 a month. And they were all worthy of attention. What happened? People started buying my books. I was more prolific Tweeter when I spent hour after hour staring out the window trying to divine clever thoughts. Those days are, for now, gone. I’m no longer prolific. I miss it, but I’ll settle for solvent. Of course, that may be momentary, too, so tI invite you to stay tuned.
• Does it dent my argument that I'm an eternal optimist when I say I hope I die before I become a pessimist?
• Hooray for editors! If it weren't for them, Santa could easily become Satan.
• I predict 2020 is the year we all simultaneously learn if it's constitutionally permissible for a sitting president to appoint himself to the U.S. Supreme Court.
• I wonder if temperature in heaven is individualized or if some old ladies complain it's always too cold & bundle up in sweaters.
•Kid Rock, 48 and in the news for drunken racist rant, is too old to be called Kid. I'd propose he change his name to Punk, but understand that might lead to confusion. Too bad. Punk Rock fits.
• I’ve decided to call my next book, "The Big Book of Thanks to Everyone Who's Supported, Cheered & Encouraged the Release of My Self-Published Fred/Latrobe Book," and it's going to be 14,001 pages long. #gratitude
• Bible says my body is a temple. Could it still be so if it's absent of any devoted worshippers?
• Q: What does it mean when you hear, "Hoot! Hoot!" coming from a nearby tree this time of year?
A: Owl be home for Christmas.
• Knock knock.
Javier-self a Merry little Christmas!
• Back when I was growing up, a love triangle was typically scandalous behavior between a trio of consenting adults. Times change. People are less coy about their gender identities and promiscuities. Isn't it about time someone started a love rhombus?
• I’m putting together a troupe of tiny side-burned toymakers to head to Vegas and sing, "Jailhouse Rock," "Burnin' Love," etc. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Elves Presley!”
• One of the realities of my condition is when I'm sober I sometimes appear as if I've been drinking a little and when I've been drinking a little I sometimes appear a little drunk. Don't let that scare you off. No matter my stage of sobriety/inebriation, I'm never, ever, serious.
• All you fun gals beware: You're all just one missed tap of the spacebar away from being fungal.
• I contend the story of the Christ birth would be impossible today because we'd be hard pressed to find in the entire world three wise men.
• All my life I've never had a pot to piss in. Never cared. I wonder if I'd be more ambitious if I didn't live in the woods.
• Reading a real newspaper is like an intellectual stroll through a garden where you pause to hear interesting people tell you their stories. Reading most anything on-line, with all the pop-up ads/links/click bait, is like being forced to run an obstacle course. You're harried, distracted and end up wondering if it was worth all the aggravation.
• In striving to be all inclusive and non-confrontational during the War on Christmas I will henceforth wish people a Happy ALLidays. I want people of ALL beliefs to enjoy ALL holidays. Happy ALLidays!
• The greatest public misnomer involves announcers addressing crowds at things like NFL games as "Ladies and gentlemen." At any game of about 60,000 fans, there are probably no more than 120 ladies and 50 true gents. If they cared at all about accuracy, they'd say, "Welcome bitches, dudes and garden variety blowhards!"
• School marm is an antiquated term that connotes a caring, sweet female who'll dote on her students, encourage their progress and give them a little pat on the head when they've done well. The world needs more marms. Let's revive and broaden marm usage. Who wants to be our bar marm!