ZUKI IS HONESTLY A NICE GUY!…….just ask him…really

Go fascinate someone else!

Go fascinate someone else!

Good Morning Promoters of Lithium,

A wiser man than me once said, “I am free of all prejudice.  I hate everyone equally ” W.C. Fields.

I’m reasonably sure Mr. Fields had moments of love and affection even if it was only toward a goldfish.  In this age of texting, Facebook, Instagram, and the internet–perceptions easily become truth.  The danger of altered impressions or any impression for that matter is that they tend to be wrong.

I don’t need to look further than my barstool at ‘Curmudgeon Corner’ to find a perfect example.  Most of the regulars at Blondie’s and even my Son perceive me to be continually disagreeable; finding fault in nearly everyone and/or everything.  This of course is nonsense!  Nothing could be further from the truth!  I’m trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.  Also, I’m generous to a fault, kind to strangers, patient, and embrace self-less behavior wherever I find it.


While there will always be my detractors (and they know who they are) who would take issue with my self-assessment.  But when confronted and challenged to provide one example of my purported anti-social behavior you can hear crickets!  Nada, zero, the big goose egg…..and my accuser slips away claiming they don’t wish to discuss it.

I was sitting under the unilluminated light fixture associated with my place at the bar sipping on a cold bottle of beer to contemplate my next adventure when Roger the Hairdresser appeared from vapor.  Like a friggin ghost he has an annoying habit of quietly hovering just above the floor as to sneak up and touch or poke you.  This always creeps me out, and once again he felt compelled to touch me regardless of my previous admonitions not to.

While the little fella thinks it’s funny ….I do not.  While rare, I indeed snapped and became enraged; momentarily losing my normally good natured demeanor.  I grabbed his wrinkled chicken neck and lifted his heels off the floor screaming “LISTEN YOU MF….DO THAT TO ME ONE MORE TIME AND YOU WILL DIE!!”  For dramatic emphasis I slammed his head on the bar and told him to get the F out or “I shall taunt you a second time!”  To his credit he left….albeit with bar napkins damming up his bloody nose.

I immediately began to feel bad at my obvious overreaction and felt guilty for his eventual black eye and swollen face.  This was so unlike me to lash out like that so I vowed to apologize to the man-child next time I saw him.  To be honest though, the next time he came in I started to get up, and then thought “Why am I apologizing?  The little shit deserved it!  Perhaps he’ll learn something from all this and become a better person.

So you see once again and without being pedantic, I was able to enrich someone else’s life.  So to those who perceive me as a disagreeable asshole, I would beg you to “walk a mile in my shoes” and reassess.


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TIME TO DANCE WITH DEATH……zuki encourages curmudgeons to go ahead and die



Good Morning Bereaved,

Eventually all of us will succumb to gravity and die; some sooner than later. Still others seem to never die. There’s no skill involved as far as I can tell, unless one intends to eat a bullet, then you’ll have to fill out the forms and hope the background check doesn’t reveal that issue with eight year old boys.  So all in all dying doesn’t require an advanced degree and seems reasonably straight forward.

So what’s all the fuss about?  Dancing with death (and let me know if this sounds like it should have been in ‘Forest Gump’) is something each of us must do at some point, but the whole process needs tweaking. “Dance with Death” is a 14th century morality poem centered on a dialogue between Death and representatives of all classes of folks from the Pope on down.  Obviously I can’t speak for what’s left of ‘Curmudgeon Corner,’ but a dialogue with Death would be preferable to a conversation with ‘Cush.’ Needless to say if I hear about Aunt Myrna one more time, I’m that much closer to expediting my own death!

Whether it’s somatic with telltale rigor mortis or brain dead it’s all the same isn’t it? I suppose statistically speaking it’s important to separate types of death particularly now that organ transplants are commonplace. But dead is dead right? Albert Einstein said, “The fear of death is the most unjustified of all fears, for there’s no risk of accident for someone who’s dead.” While not wishing to contradict Mr. Einstein, but I would also suggest to the two or three of you reading this headstone that the notion of death has you scared shit-less!

Lately I’ve become a bit obsessive about death and all the trappings given the declining health of my sainted Mother. I used to be terrified of the ‘Grim Reaper’ until I finally experienced enough rotations to acquire perspective and a better understanding of the dynamic at play. With the possible exception of George Hamilton, the older one gets, the more feeble we become, and quality of life continues to diminish, the more we look forward to deaths release. This is precisely why the late Dr Kevorkian’s business plan was such genius!  Had he been left alone to develop his craft without the damn government again deciding what’s best for us, there’d be as many Kevorkian franchises as KFC!

Look I don’t want to be perceived as morbid, but it’s clear that a goodly number of curmudgeons might as well go ahead and die saving the clean air and water for those of us that still must press on. There’s a few of them (and they know who they are) that have nothing to live for. The kids are gone, can’t retire, can’t get it up, wives left for good, and in continual pain suffering gout, dementia, and nearly blind. C’mon now, GET OUT!! There’s nothing left to prove and it pains me to say this, but ugly now owns ‘Curmudgeon Corner’ as most of them are able to weave the hair growing out of their distended ears!



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 "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…..so 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…..it’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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