Crystal's Cat House

Crystal’s Cat House

Good Morning Techno Geeks,

Not every time, but certainly there are times when a situation requires quick thinking followed by immediate action.  For the most part this fact eliminates my participation as there’s little to nothing left about me that could be described as quick.  Yet knowing this and accepting my slow footed mackled reactions to damn near everything, has in a way been liberating.

Up until this week, I’d continually be frustrated by my adroit-less meanderings and clumsy attempts at meeting women struggling with even superficial conversations like the weather.  It seemed inevitable that I was destined to live a lonely life of wishing I was someplace else.  Yet I’m always surprised when my life’s miserable happenstances are miraculously alleviated and fortunes reversed.

I’m not sure how long the app ‘Tinder’ has been around, but my son loaded it up on my I-phone and was immediately hooked.  Finally, a technology that dovetails with my own preferences and gets straight to the point.  I’ve done the on-line dating thing where one must write a personal profile detailing preference, hobbies, religious dogma, and two pages of ‘who I am’ self-applied drivel.  I never read any of that and based my interest solely on a woman’s looks and body.  Yes it’s shallow, but let’s face it; if one isn’t physically attracted to a person any would be relationship has ZERO chance of success.

I’m no doubt five years behind this technology but for the two or three of you reading this babelistic overture ‘Tinder’ is a simple yes or no based app that displays multiple images of a woman (or man…for you Cush) based on one’s geographic location.  If a woman I ‘Liked’ tags my images Tinder sends a match notice and the rest is up to me or her.  Crystal tagged my set of images and my pathetic life became infused with bizarre!

Over the weekend I was in Utah to visit my ailing mother.  I was camped out at my brother’s home and had a couple hours to kill while he and his wife went to a funeral.  I began to ‘Tinder’ and flipped through what must been 25 photo profiles when I came upon Crystal’s set.  For a woman living in Mormon country I was struck by her revealing shots accentuating her breasts, ass, and legs!  For a 54 year old woman she’s held together very nicely and was more than pleased that we were matched!

I texted her (through Timber system) with a simple hello how are you, and pointed out we’re only 9 miles from each other so can we meet?  To my amazement she replied back ‘Yes’ and suggested we meet at the only bar in Brigham City, Utah!  My brother’s house is less than a mile away so we agreed to meet.

After several rounds of Vodka Tonics she suggested we move the party to her house to which I readily agreed.  Her house is an older home maybe 1,200 square feet located at the base of the Wasatch Mountains in Honeyville, UT just north of Brigham City.

When I first walked in my eyes began to water from the foul stench of cat urine.  I was surrounded by (estimation only) a dozen cats.  Her place was filthy even by my standards which trust me; I’m not fanatical about house cleaning.  Crystal called to them one by one and they all came running.  Careful not to step on one I followed this woman to find a seat on a severely stained couch.  The cats jumped on us immediately and began begging for food or attention by rubbing against us.  It was creeping me out and wondered if the reward would be worth it.  The fact I needed her to drive me back kept me there for the moment.

After partaking accoutrements suitable for the occasion and her expert ministrations we began to suck face until it became very urgent.  It was obvious she intended to complete the act on an already toxic couch mingling my ick with what’s sure to be 100 other DNA samples.  Now in the throes of coitus, we had found a good rhythm and was thrusting my way to home plate when several cats decided to join the fun and jumped on my ass and began growling.

Still focused on the task at hand, I continued undeterred.  However, several more cats joined me by sitting on my back and neck/head also growling.  This was too much for me and in an instant lost my hard-earned enthusiasm.  It was NOT going to happen like it should have, so I disengaged from Crystal who sincerely asked me what was wrong.  I looked at her in disbelief and in irritated tones asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?  It’s bad enough your house has become one giant litterbox but to allow them to ride it out is bizarre at best!”  She began to cry….. my cue to leave.

It was sunny but cold as I began my walk to my brother’s house.  I had time to reflect upon what had just happened and thought, “Jeez zuki this puts chasing tail and getting pussy in a whole new light!”

It’s never easy being me…


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WHO YOU GONNA BELIEVE?…..a would be holy man rejected by dwarves or me?

A Lie I tell you!!!

A Lie I tell you!!!

Good Morning Lambs to Slaughter,

It’s been the policy of this our humble forum to post any and all submissions unedited.  There are some (and they know who they are) who take advantage of this policy no matter who they have to trample asunder.  The further “Truth and Light” our very own Bagwan is force feeding us will someday come back to bite him in the ass….until then…enjoy the rebuttal:


Once again Zuki has misrepresented the truth. To get his side to the story you need to read his posting that immediately precedes this. His shameless and mean-spirited attack on a wonderful couple needs to be refuted.

The victims here are Barbara and Martin Scofield from San Francisco. They like to be called Babs and Marty and they are just ordinary people, as friendly and kind as you are ever going to meet.

They went back to Blondie’s this past week to celebrate their anniversary and to do so at the very place where they first met. Babs told me she will never forget the feeling of love at first sight when she walked in and saw Marty sitting at the end of the bar. Marty is a good looking man with a full head of bristling red hair accompanied by a healthy complexion and a robust demeanor.

Marty remembers seeing Babs walk into the bar and was immediately taken by her athletic body and dancer’s gait. He is still shocked that she walked right up to him and in her soft raspy voice asked “come here often.” They both immediately laughed at the campy come-on. At that moment the physical attraction was sealed by the shared sense of humor.

They had a whirlwind romance which included a trip around the world made possible by the fortune Marty had amassed in technology startups. Each year they return to one of those memorable venues to rekindle the love they felt in that first year of their lifelong love affair. Just last year they went back and revisited the Dali Lama who welcomed them back with open arms.

This year they returned to Colorado so that Marty could receive the Humanitarian of the Year Award from the Gates Foundation. They decided it would be great fun to go back to where it all started at Blondie’s. When they arrived the bar was in its normal lethargic state – 2 or 3 local barflies, a blind guy trying to find the restroom, plus a table populated with overweight female clerks over from the city office. Little did they know that when they took a seat at the near-empty bar that they had violated the “property rights” of a latter day squatter.

The Gates foundation gives them awards, the Dali Lama receives them warmly and yet Zuki can’t tolerate Marty sitting on what Zuki has come to think of as his stool. I am not going to comment or pass judgment – but I sure hope you do.

JJ did save the day but not in the fashion that Zuki described. Sizing up what was going on he took the situation in hand. He was embarrassed by the whole thing and took the couple to dinner across the street at Steakhouse 10. He is the one who was able to get the true story from this delightful and enchanting couple.

In the meantime Zuki has his stool back where he can once again carefully keep track of all the imagined slights that he is forced to endure.


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JUST JOE DISPLAYS COURAGE AT BLONDIE’S……fat lady escapes from circus

Feel sorry for chair

Feel sorry for chair

Good Morning Seekers of Babelism,

Albert Camus once said, “Those who lack the courage will always find a philosophy to justify it.”

While I try to be objective in my observations separating emotional attachment by use of systematic methodology for analysis that tends to keep me on high ground.  But Mr. Camus’s above quote was never as true as it was last night at Blondie’s.

Typically Blondie’s patronage includes the same ‘Bozo’s’ that got off the bus yesterday.  However, once every now and then we’re treated to the behavior of strangers that’s bizarre enough to be considered refreshing.  Particularly when compared to the same banally uninspired repackaging of the same old tom foolery.

As I walked into Blondie’s I was struck, no slapped in the face to see my normal seats was occupied by an oddly matched couple.  Hearsay taking center stage it came to light; this mentally challenged pair was a married couple returning to the place they first met.  God just my luck!  So I proceeded to take a different seat automatically irritated.  It didn’t take long for the couple to reveal themselves as complete lunatics!

The male portion of this “Confederation of Dunces” is a “ginger” with red hair and freckles with a deep bellowing voice turned up five “Nacho’s” to loud.  He was small in stature but not as diminutive as our own Roger the Hairdresser but was totally eclipsed by a short obese woman that had to tuck in her folds of fat under her.  I’m guessing she weighs in the neighborhood of 300 lbs.  She was rude and foul-mouthed and I hated the woman wishing her physical harm.

Surprisingly and loud enough for all of us to hear she went after ‘Magical John’ a Vietnam veteran with a long flowing white beard and hair that I consider a fire hazard, but that’s another discussion.  John attends counseling at the VA hospital and if allowed to drink too much will get loud and a bit strange, but is no threat to anyone and always espouses peace and harmony.

The circus sideshow refugee began to accuse Magical John of laughing at her…..  Good God we were all chortling and out loud when she repeated her husband’s claim that Manning threw the game so Coach Fox would be fired.  I’m not sure as to why she picked John to go after because every time the couple spoke it was to laugh given the skewed absurdity of what was being uttered.  I suspect John didn’t look or act very imposing and felt no threat from him.

John had about enough and cut his visit much shorter than normal, but by all accounts it should have been the “Odd Couple” to leave.  About this time our very own Just JOE sauntered in and stood in his normal spot a few short feet away from the pugnacious woman wearing coke bottle spectacles with the IQ of a turd.

JJ had not been privy to the goofy interchanges prior to his entrance.  His typical stoic posture while ignoring them completely must have conjured up fear or suspicion about who he was.  Bubbles kept asking our boy “Are you the owner?”  JJ continued to ignore the pocked faced woman.  “You’re the owner aren’t you” she insisted, so our fellow “Rules Committee” member said in a reasonable tone that he was not.  “Liar!” she lashed back now joined by the ‘Ginger’ at her side.  In spite of our dear bartender Gina’s insistence otherwise, they both kept up with their accusation like they’d uncovered a secret.

I was waiting for Just JOE to tear them a new one….waiting…waiting…waiting but instead of shredding the nitwits he did something I never thought I’d see.  It was genius in its simplicity!   While the two idiots continued with their inane pointless allegation JJ slowly rolled up his beloved ‘Westward’ into a tight tube.  Then he turned to the Ripley’s candidates and in turn smacked each moron on the nose!  With gusto mind you!!!

Stunned and embarrassed the slime-balls left in a huff promising to never set foot in Blondie’s again!

Now that was funny!


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MARTIN LUTHER KING TURNS OVER IN GRAVE…….zuki shares rosa park’s misery

Ride Rosa Ride!!

Ride Rosa Ride!!

Today we celebrate Martin Luther King’s abbreviated life.  For those of you living in a cave the last 40 years, he was a black minister that advocated non-violent protests against segregation.  This was in stark contrast to the white police that sicked attack dogs and turned high pressure water hoses on the peaceful ‘African American’ marchers.  This was on top of savage beatings administered by the Selma, AL police.  Fast-forward 50 years and things still boil down to the ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots..’  While not entirely related, it’s as close as I’ve come to true empathy.  Please enjoy this posting from 2008:

Good Morning Conjunct and Huddled Masses,

Before actually commenting, I wanted to spend the entire week absorbing a ‘day in the life’ of public transportation.  I’m glad I did because it would have been easy to subjugate the characters I’ve met (some are new readers) into stereo-typical behaviors without regard to how or why they’re riding a bus.

While not wanting to sound elitist (my circumstances aside) I couldn’t help but notice the great variety of human-kind on display at our bus stops and train stations.  Oddly there’s even a difference between those that ride the train versus the bus!  This is evidenced by posted signs on every bus but not anywhere on the light trains.  The sign warns.. “Causing a disturbance maybe considered hindering the operation of a public conveyance or endangering public transportation, punishable by up to a $750,000 fine and up to 16 years in prison.  All violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law”

Without going out on a limb I suspect few riding the bus know the meaning of the word conveyance! There are students and those working downtown that find the train more efficient than driving so they get themselves to a station to park and ride the rails.  Those that must suffer the often times circuitous meanderings of the bus are the abject poor.  The two modes of transportation overlap of course, and I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing both making me qualified to comment.  That said, sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between poverty by choice, circumstance, or whether it’s all pre-ordained.

For the two or three of you reading this ‘transfer’ let’s not forget this is after all about me.  In the ongoing struggle to rise above my self-inflicted wounds it’s become necessary to access public transportation.  Typically there’s very little interchange between the passengers.  With the advent of Smart phones, Tablets, and the good ole newspaper, most keep to themselves quietly suffering the personal indignation of riding a sardine can.

I decided early on that when forced to share a seat I’d engage whoever it was in conversation.  Aside from the few that didn’t speak English, in my  five day adventure I’ve met Juan a self-admitted graffiti artist, Justin a proud assistant manager of a McDonalds, Lexi a Latino women who is hell bent on breaking the Guinness world record for birthing babies, and Gertie an 87 year old woman that volunteers at the Senior Center.

The conversations tend to be brief so it’s important to get right down to the meaty issues of why, how, and where do you want to go before they get off at the next stop.  Juan is a bit of an enigma in that he never came clean as to how he made money to devote himself to full time vandalism.  I suspect he deals drugs, but the young man is passionate about his graffiti insisting the freight train cars (his specialty) are ugly and monotonous and his work gives them individuality and beauty.

I’ve noticed his work since speaking with him.  Next time you take light rail, you’ll pass an area where many freight cars are just sitting on the rails.  Look for big 3-D white block letters on a powder blue background that spells ‘LIBERENOS’ followed by a caricature of Marilyn Monroe.  I never got an answer as to why Marilyn Monroe but suspect it was just something he’d learned to draw early on and likes it.

Justin never finished high school but found him to be surprisingly articulate.  He was promoted to assistant manager after a year of being the fry guy.  His purpose in life is to someday manage his own restaurant if you can call McDonald’s a restaurant.  He seemed very determined to me and have little doubt he’ll achieve his goal.

Lexi is way out there and one has to wonder what color the sky is in her world.  In a heavy Mexican accent she explained the Virgin Mary spoke to her.  Mary indicated her calling in life is to bring children into the world and raise them as Catholics.  Lexi is 28 years old and already has seven kids and expecting her eighth with three fathers.  She’s “on a mission from God”!

Gertie is a piece of work!  She has no problem telling people what she thinks of them and will gladly point out one’s rude or inappropriate behavior.  She’s been widowed for 23 years and I think I know what put him in his grave.  Gertie seems to be a bit on the harsh side and for my money is a curmudgeon’s curmudgeon, yet she travels 12 miles daily to volunteer at the Senior Center in Loretta Heights.  As she stood up to get off she said loud enough for all to hear, “Young man (meaning me!) you’d attract more women if you lost some weight” She turned away and left with more than a few snickering about it.

While not to be compared with Rosa Park’s ride on Public Transportation my experience served its purpose to be sure, as I’ve seen dwarfs, the mentally retarded, crazies mumbling to themselves, and as one might guess have come face to face with wheelchair-bound people.

I nearly always claim to be agnostic but when confronted with inconvenience…..I turn to prayer….  “PLEASE GOD…..GIVE ME MY CAR BACK!!!”



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BAGWAN’S BURGEONING BOMBAST…..asks the question; is that all there is?

Bagwan slouches toward Cleveland

Bagwan slouches toward Cleveland

I was just reading Zuki’s annual lament which always follows the annual sales meeting. It is sort of a combination of Willy Loman and Terry Malloy with just a dash of Holly Golightly.

I think everyone knows Willy Loman from Death of a Salesman. Willy is the old salesman who just doesn’t have the energy to answer the bell anymore. There is an additional connection in that Willy has two sons as does Zuki and I think they even have the same names – Biff and Happy.

Terry Malloy is played by Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. And just like Zuki, Terry was forced to throw a fight at the peak of his career. Terry is also famous for the quote which is often heard as a woeful cry coming from Curmudgeon Corner: “I coulda been a contender.”

Actual quote from movie: Terry: “You don’t understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it. It was you, Charley.”

The dash of Holly Golightly is perhaps less obvious to the untrained eye. Holly, as played by Audrey Hepburn, is a character in Breakfast at Tiffany’s which was written by Truman Capote. Comparing Zuki to a Truman Capote character (or Audrey Hepburn for that matter) might seem a little off the wall but there is a quote from the movie which is right on the nose:

Holly Golightly: “Promise me one thing: don’t take me home until I’m drunk – very drunk indeed.”

Now none of this is meant as criticism of Zuki. All Curmudgeons enjoy reminiscing second only to the joy they derive from complaining. I have a dear friend in Minneapolis who I worked with off and on going back to 1974. We speak by phone every other week and each call is filled with “remember the time when …”

Those of us who have entered the fourth quarter know that we don’t have much to look forward to except maybe an overtime period – and that will be played under the old rules of sudden death. Nonetheless there is no need to be maudlin. Guys like Zuki and JJ ought to stop and give thanks for what they have. They are both above ground, they are both gainfully employed, JJ has his “nieces” and Zuki has Biff and Happy but most importantly they have each other.

Zuki says the Springsteen song “Glory Days” captured the moment as all the boys stood around the bar at the Nuggets game. It definitely serves that purpose, not to mention it is a pretty good song. When I look back on my career as a travelling salesman I always think of John Fogerty’s song “Centerfield” but not for the obvious reason that the guy wants to be in the game. No when I think back to that song, I am always reminded that Mrs. Bagwan thought the line “put me in coach” referred to the seat selection process on an airplane.

The song lyrics which sum all this up the best come from a Peggy Lee song. I was at her show at the Waldorf in New York in 1969 when Miss Lee introduced “Is That All There is.” As a 21 year old that night I hated the song and certainly did not understand the meaning. Now at 66 I still don’t like the song, but unfortunately I do fully understand the meaning.

“Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is.”


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