Once again, my lovely readers, the yuletide season is upon us, and while most intact families celebrate the wholesomeness of the holidays, we must understand that some people just don’t fully comprehend what it’s supposed to mean.
Herein lies a batch of odd Christmas photos where the subjects just couldn’t get into the spirit or hope their placement on a sex offender’s registry would go unnoticed.
I couldn’t resist sharing this from artist, writer and fellow blogger Art Browne. There’s an odd sense of truth to it, since just about everyone in the Trump Administration is crazy, rich and White! Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being White! Or even crazy! Hell, I’m pretty much both! So is Art! I told him recently we’re both HUNG: handsome, understanding, nice guys. Love you, brother!
Family Christmas photographs are a grand tradition that stretches back almost to the invention of photography. Christmas is all about family, whether the family is comprised of blood relatives or close friends who provide that irreplaceable sensation of family. A few of my friends mailed me their usual Christmas cards bearing portraits of their own beautiful families.
Some folks like to get creative with their holiday photographs. Often they’re cute and even funny. Other times, though, you have to wonder how many spirits these people had beforehand, or if local child protective services has a case file on them. Herein are a few examples of people who should’ve just left the camera the hell alone.
The Texas state house must still be on the typewriter system. This is an actual ad from Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott, who – like Governor Rick Perry – is the longest serving official in his respective position. We grammar goons were quick to notice that the correct verbiage should be “is,” as in ‘Neither of which is taught in schools.’ The word ‘neither’ is singular; therefore, so should the corresponding verb. If that’s too much for a Friday night, I understand. In a seemingly unrelated event, Texas gets a D+ in school financing.
In keeping with today’s theme of saints and popes, I present this piece. A man in San Antonio, Texas claims he discovered an image of Jesus on a flour tortilla. As a Hispanic who was raised Catholic, I have some idea of the excitement Arturo Ruiz must have felt when he opened that package and saw the Savior burnished into the compacted lard.
“I thought I was hallucinating, so I showed it to others, and everybody claimed (the tortilla) showed Jesus,” Ruiz told a local TV station earlier this month. He had been preparing breakfast when the image apparently caught his eye. Hard times may have blurred his thinking. He’s facing eviction and expects his cell phone service to be cut off. I guess that means we’ll see this beauty on Ebay some time soon.
I have to concede I love flour tortillas, too! Don’t tell me you’re surprised! Of the thousands I’ve eaten since 1964, though, I can’t say I’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary. Well…there was one that looked a little like Agatha Christie holding a glass of bourbon. Hey, what do you expect from a writer?!
I’ve seen most presidential State of the Union addresses since before I was a teenager, as well as the opposing political party’s (usually pathetic) response afterwards. But, after last night’s address, I’ve never seen a rebuttal interrupted by an otherwise innocuous bottle of water. More than halfway into his diatribe, Sen. Marco Rubio’s throat apparently dried up and – trying to be as coy and inconspicuous as possible – he carefully reached for the water, his big bright eyes still trained on the teleprompter just a few feet away. Personally, I would have reached for a wine cooler, or a Red Bull, but I’m just different like that. I know Rubio will never be able to live that down. But, it made for a good laugh. And, I’ll always drink to that!
I just thought this was funny. Fellow blogger Travel Spirit (Sherry) took this picture in a gift shop in Tarpon Springs, Florida. The figure reminds me of a close friend who has a moustache, loves Jack Daniels and used to smoke Camel cigarettes. He also practically grew up in the Florida panhandle, visiting the area often as a kid. He said – with the exception of the cigarette – the image is true to him: hard as wood and loving Jack Daniels. That’s all the visual I’m sure any of us needs! Thanks, Sherry!
I planned to join the Dallas run, but they said a red leather thong didn’t count as a Speedo. Damn! It’s always something!