Greetings from the TGIF Editor who has taken a nice long vacation from issuing any TGIF messages. The last one was on Friday, July 22nd! I thought I would resume doing it at summer’s end. But I was very busy and sitting down to try and find good material in my TGIF gmail box seemed a lot more like work than a hobby. Besides, the week after my last TGIF was the Republican Party Convention in Cleveland. Since then, I thought all the outlandish material that was coming during the presidential campaign meant that you didn’t need any old stuff from yours truly. So, I guess you could say that my weekly TGIF message got “trumped” by the presidential campaign.
Besides, I didn’t really have anything of any real importance to report on, on the home and family front as well. Oops! Except for the wedding of my daughter Joya on Labor Day Weekend 2016. She and Christopher were married on 4 September near here at the Inn at Weathersfield and they chose her older brother Jonathan to do the service. He obtained from the State of Vermont a one-day license and did a great job of a great ceremony that Joya and Chris created. It was a beautiful event on a gorgeous weekend at a great location with family and an international group of guests. A great time was had by all! (And we have plenty of photos to prove it!!!)
Other than that, not much has happened.
Oh, except there was the presidential election that you might have heard about.
("Other than that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln"?)
One of President-Elect Donald Trump’s campaign promises was to build a wall on the Mexican border.
Trump’s Wall on the Mexican Border
Trump has announced that he has all the necessary materials to build the wall along the Mexican border.
You should have known this.
When Trump won the election, 60 million Democrats shit a brick....
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1960 Hits Renamed
Some of the artists of the 60's are revising their hits with new lyrics to accommodate aging baby boomers who can remember doing the "Limbo" as if it were yesterday.
They include :
Herman's Hermits --- Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Walker
Ringo Starr ---
I Get By With A Little Help From Depends
I Get By With A Little Help From Depends
The Bee Gees ---
How Can You Mend A Broken Hip?
How Can You Mend A Broken Hip?
Roberta Flack---
The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face
The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face
Johnny Nash ---
I Can't See Clearly Now
I Can't See Clearly Now
Paul Simon---
Fifty Ways To Lose Your Liver
Fifty Ways To Lose Your Liver
The Commodores ---
Once, Twice, Three Times To The Bathroom
Once, Twice, Three Times To The Bathroom
Procol Harem---
A Whiter Shade Of Hair
A Whiter Shade Of Hair
Leo Sayer ---
You Make Me Feel Like Napping
You Make Me Feel Like Napping
The Temptations ---
Papa's Got A Kidney Stone
Papa's Got A Kidney Stone
Abba---
Denture Queen
Denture Queen
Tony Orlando ---
Knock 3 Times On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall
Knock 3 Times On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall
Helen Reddy ---
I Am Woman; Hear Me Snore
I Am Woman; Hear Me Snore
Leslie Gore---
It's My Procedure, and I'll Cry If I Want To
It's My Procedure, and I'll Cry If I Want To
And Last , but NOT least:
Willie Nelson ---
On the Commode Again
On the Commode Again
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A Thought-Provoking Letter to the Editor
Dear Airlines,
Dump the male flight attendants. No one wanted them in the first place.
Replace all the female flight attendants with YOUNG, good-looking strippers!
What the hell!! They don't even serve food any more, so what's the loss?
The strippers would at least triple the alcohol sales and get a "party atmosphere" going in the cabin. And, of course, every businessman in this country would start flying again, hoping to see naked women.
Because of the tips, female flight attendants wouldn't need a salary, thus saving even more money.
Muslims would be afraid to get on the planes for fear of seeing naked women. Hijackings would come to a screeching halt, and the airline industry would see record revenues.
This is definitely a win - win situation if we handle it right - a golden opportunity to turn a liability into an asset.
Why didn't Reagan, the Bushes or Obama think of this? Why do I still have to do everything myself?
Sincerely,
Donald Trump.
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Posted on the Audi forum
A friend of mine has two tickets for the Formula 1 final race of the season – the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, at the Yas Marina circuit on the weekend of the 25th – 27th November. They are box seats and include flights, hospitality, and hotel accommodation. He didn't realise when he bought them that this is the same day as his wedding.
If you're interested and want to go instead of him, it's at St Johns Church, Worcester at 2.15 pm on the 26th. Her name is Janet. She’ll be the one in the white dress.
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The NFL Washington Redskins Finally Agree to Change Their Name
This has been an issue in the news for the last two years.
Here’s a recent story from our nation’s capital:
The Washington Redskins finally drop offensive name:
Dan Snyder, owner of the NFL Redskins, has announced that the team is dropping “Washington” from the team name, and it will henceforth be simply known as, “The Redskins.”
It was reported that he finds the word ‘Washington’ imparts a negative image of poor leadership, mismanagement, corruption, cheating, lying, and graft, and is not a fitting role-model for young fans of football.
(TGIF Editor’s Note: When Trump drains the swamp, they can think about getting rid of the name “Redskins”!)
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The 50 best/worst analogies written by high school students
He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
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 land mine or something.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that hunts dogs, I suppose.
She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
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.
“Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around 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.
The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”
The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
Her pants fit her like a glove, well, maybe more like a mitten, actually.
Fishing is like waiting for something that does not happen very often.
They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.”
Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein’s Obsession would smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead of natural floral fragrances.
The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.
The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.
Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in mucus and then held up to catch the light.
I felt a nameless dread. Well, there probably is a long German name for it, like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but I don’t speak German. Anyway, it’s a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic gizmos that close your bread bags. I don’t know the name for those either.
She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
You know how in “Rocky” he prepares for the fight by punching sides of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he was in.
The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.
The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10 percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent black.
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I really appreciate the concern that a few of you expressed about my personal health and well-being since you hadn’t seen a TGIF since July. Many of you thought that I had finally removed you from the list due to lack of contributions from you. Well, how could I do that? I wouldn’t have anyone to send this to – and what would be the point of that?
I can assure you that I am blessed to be in good health and enjoying life as much as I can. Keeping busy with a wide range of activities has also kept me off the streets.
A local friend of mine complained that he missed the TGIF and wanted to know why I wasn’t issuing any Friday messages. I told him it was partly due to my laziness and partly due to the lack of good new material. He told me he had stopped sending material to me because I stopped issuing them. Let me see. I think someone might call that a circular argument or something. What came first? The egg or the chicken – the TGIF or the joke contributions?
So, let me remind those who might have gotten this far in reading this edition, if you see some funny stuff, think of me and forward it along.
Time to wish you a frolicking Friday, a wonderful weekend, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year 2017!
If you reside in this area, try to stay warm today and this weekend. It's going to be REAL COLD! Brrrrrrr! I'm staying in front of my wood pellet stove and crankin'it!
TGI-Jeff
