"she sees what's wrong with you and not her."

“she sees what’s wrong with you and not her.”

Good Morning Children of the Moon,

Regarding astrology: An obstetrician or a maternity nurse who weighs between 100 and 200 pounds actually exerts a greater gravitational force on a baby at the time of its birth than do any of the distant planets that are said to influence a person’s personality and destiny. Why aren’t these bulky, proximate objects factored into the astrological charts that are so carefully laid out? – George Carlin

Have we collectively become a population of idiots and morons?  Movie stars and celebrities are looked to for wisdom and guidance as if somehow they had answers to life’s rich pageant.  When you’ve got more money than most of can even comprehend it’s easy to be wise, even eccentric.  Others are just plain lost, destined to wander their entire lives in a quest for truth and light.

It seems there’s a DNA segment that causes us humans to ponder and search for personal meaning in our lives. I’m not saying I don’t share this curiosity, but there’s too much zealotry and bombast and not enough common sense when it comes to sharing one’s point of view.

I had just finished dinner with my daughter and grandson and wanted a nightcap, so instead of Blondie’s I wound up at the newly opened “Bout Time” and no doubt over-indulged.  However given the nearly straight shot to my place, I stayed longer than I should have.  I was curious because the bar has electronic trivia reminiscent of our glory days at our beloved Dewey’s… I began to play.

I met Brenda a matronly but affable woman seated next to me also playing trivia.  She seemed to enjoy my particular brand of shtick and immediately hit it off.  After the initial small talk and well into the night, Brenda felt compelled to point out her astrological chart indicated she’d meet a person with great potential for love.  Evidently she perceived me to be that person.

She began to drone on and on about how she needed to do a “chart” on me to further establish our destiny.  This seemed to go on for another hour until I was completely annoyed.

I stopped her abruptly and had to remind her of the origins of this quasi-mystic art. I emphatically explained the “Chaldaeans and the Assyrians were the first to discard their heavenly based gods in favor of a non-deistic system of divination founded upon astronomy and numerology.”  How convenient!

She looked as though I’d just kicked her dog and folded her arms clearly indicating I wouldn’t be getting into her lockbox anytime soon. With nothing further to lose, I also pointed out that the same bloodthirsty assholes flying into our buildings, beheading innocents, and killing indiscriminately are descendants of these wise originators of interplanetary dogma, and asked her “Doesn’t that say something about ‘’astrology?”

Speechless with mouth agape, Brenda got up and threw the remainder of her drink into my face! Other than the embarrassment, I was grateful she was drinking Vodka-Tonic.  I cleaned my glasses, blotted myself up the best I could, and walked out the door to begin the straight shot home.

Feeling just a bit smug I walked to my car to discover someone had key’d my car!  So much for alignment, I hope Brenda burns in Cosmic Hell for this. Jeez.


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BAGWAN FINDS TONTINE IN SOCK DRAWER……curmudgeon corner confused

Bagwan's Format

Bagwan’s Format

Good Morning Antediluvian Hordes,

The Bagwan has again spoken.  He is actually paid for his observations so you’d be well served to finish this mythomane.  The fact he found copious notes in his sock drawer is good enough for me, so please pay attention:

I have a habit of using cocktail napkins to record history. History that is, as it occurs in places which have cocktail napkins. The scribbling and hieroglyphics on these napkins usually are a reminder of a brilliant idea or a bet or sometimes my numbers for an upcoming football pool.   Occasionally I will find a blank napkin in my files which would indicate some confusion on my part. Perhaps I blew my nose on the one with the bet and inadvertently put the blank in my pocket — which is probably better than the opposite.

Most of these bets are about very trivial matters. Like JJ betting me that Mansfield Ave. does not run through from Sheridan Blvd to Pierce, but it does. Or Zuki betting me that Seattle gets more annual rainfall than New York City — not true. I would brag about how often I am right, but I deserve no credit. I simply sit there listening to their absurd claims until I hear one I know for a fact is wrong. You would think they would catch on, but so far so good.

I was rearranging the napkin file the other night when I made an interesting discovery. It seems that many years ago one Saturday afternoon while sitting at Curmudgeon Corner in Deweys we formed a tontine and recorded the terms on a cocktail napkin. Finding this “document” seemed especially relevant since we have just lost two more members in the past month.

Let me back up for a minute in case some of you are not familiar with how a tontine works. There are many varieties but the basic idea is that a group of people pool assets and then at some point start receiving an annuity which increases as subscribers die until the last survivor receives the whole amount.

Now the key word in that last paragraph was “assets.” In a normal tontine “assets” would be cash or something that could be readily turned into cash like stocks, bonds or real estate. For those of you who have followed the history of Curmudgeon Corner you can well imagine that assets in this case have a completely different meaning.

The napkin which formed the tontine referred to an Addendum where the various assets were to be listed. Fortunately I was able to find 3 additional napkins and with the help of an Egyptian have been able to decipher some of the contributions.

  • Griz is contributing his share of the Robin Williams estate.
  • Madcow is sharing the (net) proceeds from a lawn sale he held this past summer.
  • Dv Ant is contributing a scatological slide collection he has piled up over the years.
  • Cush says he will give that soiled swatch from the underwear Jimmy Hoffa was wearing on the day he disappeared.
  • JJ is putting in his one-third share of the Vietnamese massage parlor on Federal.
  • Given his generous nature it is not surprising that Zuki has agreed to make multiple contributions: his ceramic bricks, his losing Lotto tickets, his Hawaiian shirt collection, his tab down at the IRS and best of all, his sunny disposition.

Makes you wonder if the last man standing is really the winner.


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BEST AND BRIGHTEST TO DONATE SPERM……zuki is double-crossed

All Victims of Circumstance

All Victims of Circumstance

Good Morning  Replicates,

With recent advances in the science of cloning, I wonder if the recluses at Vatican City have considered duplicating the current Pope.  I’m not trying to be disrespectful here but it seems to me it’s a good way to repeat what’s working as opposed to chancing appointing another Nazi to the papacy.  I know there’s been a number of movies and books that offer scenarios depicting evil as a result of cloning gone bad, but I think we need to take a serious look at this before we dismiss the idea.

Think of it, a genetically engineered pool of DNA from which the brightest and noblest of mankind is nurtured and raised to become leaders, thinkers, inventors, and all are genetically predisposed to being funny.  The losers and assholes are kept to do the bidding of the bright and noble.  Wow…’s worth pondering anyway.  Does this sound like Germany in 1938? That’s not what I’m getting at damn it!

I answered an ad recruiting donors of Sperm for just this reason.  After all who am I to deny the world another Marzuki?

After a brutal screening process I was given a towel primarily for hygiene as far as I could tell.  I was directed to a line at the other end of the laboratory.  I was one of about 30 people in line, and in a stereo-typical assessment of those standing there I sensed something was very wrong.  I finally got close enough to the entry and immediately read the sign. It felt like a knee to the groin. The sign read, ‘victims of circumstance’ please be ready to undress.

What does that mean?  Was I not chosen for the brightest and noblest of humanity?  ME?  That’s not conceivable!  As I walked in I was led to a dressing room and asked to drop trou….the nurse handed me a cup and a number of porno magazines.  I immediately noticed a goodly number of its pages were stuck together furthering my humiliation.

I don’t get my $100 if I can’t deliver, so I picked up a Hustler and began to peruse its contents. I found a particularly nasty section called “Tanya; Vacuity and Talent Too”. Surprisingly I was able to thumb through the six page layout without the crackling of ‘ick’ sucking the ink off the page. Evidently one of Tanya’s talents involves imitating a Hoover. I let myself go with the vision and expanded on it a bit. Tanya’s hands and lips are playing a symphony Tchaikovsky couldn’t possibly appreciate, and I’m lost in the bliss of Tanya’s mystery.

Sealing my cup, I handed it to the nurse who gave me a voucher redeemable at any King Soopers.  $100.  It was convenient  though, I needed to pick up coffee and toilet paper.  Getting paid for donating sperm destined to be a victim of circumstance seems wrong to me. Yet I needed the money.  “Ah fuck it Dude; let’s go bowling….”  So much for noble…jeez.


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ZUKI DISCOVERS GELATINOUS GOB OF GOO…….crock pots and nipple clamps

Pork Pot Pie my ASS!!!

Pork Pot Pie my ASS!!!

Good Morning Bathers of Oblation,

Given the tormented state I find myself I’ve begun performing little rituals that if someone in a public place should see they would surely think I was an idiot….. Shut up….you know what I mean.  I’ve been lighting little fires in an old ash tray creating shadow puppets on the wall. The puppets in turn pray to God that zuki be delivered from the hell that is life’s rich pageant.

Sometimes it pays to remind oneself to be careful what one wishes for as it can easily lead to something unexpected or prepared for. My simple supplications could be interpreted as wishing to leave this rock, and I’m not quite ready.  Looking back who’d have foreseen this tragic waste of talent?  The list of mitigating circumstances responsible for my current situation continues to mount. What the flip happened?  This wasn’t supposed to be my fate….yet here I am.

For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin–real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin.  At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.– Alfred D. Souza

I recently purchased a Crock Pot because EVERYONE told me it’s impossible to screw up a meal prepared in this ceramic slow cooker.   So following a recipe Cush gave me I carefully diced red potatoes, onions, celery, cucumbers, and a half pound of pork loin.  I adlibbed by adding garlic and rotel tomatoes for a bit of spicy!  Adding 2 cups of water I set the dial to ‘Low,’ covered the pot, and walked out the door knowing I’d have a hot delicious meal when I returned from Blondie’s.

After an exhilarating day at work, followed by an exhausting debate over “Trickle Down Economics” at ‘Curmudgeon Corner’ I was ready for my meal and stopped for a bottle of Pinot Noir.

The aroma permeated the hallway leading to my apartment and like Pavlov’s dog I began to salivate.  I felt a bit smug knowing I was driving my neighbors crazy with envy.  I rushed to the Crock Pot and removed the lid; everything looked fabulous!  Spooning out a generous helping of stew into a bowl I put my nose to the rising steam and inhaled deeply….ahhhhh yessss!  I poured a glass of wine and sat down relishing this watershed moment for this destroyer of meals!

It was obvious my good friend Cush had left out a crucial part of his Crock Pot gem!  As I plowed into my first bite I immediately recoiled and spit it back into my bowl.  The friggin potatoes were still raw!  I was very disappointed and began cursing Cush, to the point of issuing a strongly worded text.  I emptied my bowl back into the pot, added more water, and then set the dial to medium to see if it would cook the potatoes overnight.

The next morning the taters were still raw so I added more water and set the dial to ‘High’ and left for work hoping this would take care of the problem.  Had Cush informed me to boil the potatoes prior to adding them…well….jeez.. you can figure it out.  What a maroon!

By the time I returned from my ‘committee’ meeting, my Crock Pot dish had turned into an overcooked dried up pork hash resembling a gelatinous gob of goo with raw potatoes….fit only for the Irish.  Jeez…


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LIFE IS NOT FAIR!!!….zuki discovers abandonment and agnostics

Millionaire hits powerball twice!!

Millionaire hits powerball twice!!

Good Morning  Devil’s Own Luck,

I’m sure most everyone spinning on this rock has said from time to time, “life isn’t fair!” The expression is usually uttered in despair or frustration about some ill-fated happenstance causing pain and/or suffering. Having a lifetime of these buzz-kill episodes I no longer mention it as it only reaffirms the obvious. Having said this though, I found myself screaming the phrase along with a few other expletives during my commute from work.

I’m driving north on I-25 headed toward Hampden and needed to change lanes. I hit the blinker and began the process, but when I looked in the rear view mirror a big fat green SUV (I think it was an Escalade) traveling 100 mph plus bore down directly behind me and at the last pico-second eked out just enough clearance from the car I’d just passed and got around before killing me! It was over in micro-seconds but scared the slibgibbers out of me.


I never saw the driver but displayed my middle finger in a prominent gesture signaling my displeasure! For the next five minutes I’m stewing about why pricks like that never seem to get caught, while yours truly gets pulled over for a burnt out license plate light!  THIS IS NOT FAIR!!

I think back to high school (I know waaaaayyyyy back) there were a number of guys that cut school all the time but never got caught. I hooked up with two of these guys for a joy ride to Reno, NV where we snuck in a casino or two and played golf. We scored some beer and headed back to Sacramento and it was one of the best days I ever had in 1966.

But upon my return the first thing the ole’ man did is ask me how school was. I should have figured something was up because he never asked me about school so I lied saying everything was just lovely.  He immediately gets flushed and grabs me under the arm as if to lead me somewhere to which I immediately recoiled asking what was going on.  Not only was I grounded for a month, he read scriptures to me for over an hour explaining why I was going to hell for lying!  My partners in crime; nada, nothing; for them it was ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’ class of ‘67’ again–NOT FAIR!!!

Why aren’t these things regulated? If there was a God this kind of discrimination would be dispersed evenly with all of us sharing in the pain. Yes, life is indeed not fair. When I hear about some nitwit in West Virginia winning the Powerball not once, but twice, it’s beyond lucky. But what makes this story so maddening is the guy who won (twice) was already a multi-millionaire!  This is not f-ing fair!!

Then there are those 500,000 people that attended ‘Woodstock’ as well as the 500,000 folks that claim to have been there. I on the other hand was in my third week of basic training being punished for poor grades (.69 gpa) and losing my student deferment.  I’d have traded my 2 years and four months in the military to have traveled to Bethel, NY and be part of history! Some would say I got what I deserved, but I’m telling you the entire mess was NOT FAIR!

As I face retirement I look back at how $250,000 minimum was lost to me forever. My friends cooked the books and got caught six years later. Suspending trade, stock prices went from $8.60 to 45 cents overnight. My friends are working on their third million and I’m creating contact sheets. Is that fair? HELL NO IT’S NOT FAIR!!!

I’m sure each of you could produce sad stories that continually torment you even 20 years removed. I’ve tried writing a strongly worded letter, got on my knees and asked God to intervene, stomped my feet, clenched my fist, screamed obscenities, left in a huff, and cheated on my taxes; still nothing is done about it.

There is no God.


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