Archive for category Ordained

BAGWAN’S PILGRIMAGE TO CLEVELAND……singing and dancing are optional

One of many 'Get-a-ways' for our Bagwan

One of many ‘Get-a-ways’ for our Bagwan

Good Morning Denizens of Chutzpah,

Ah it must be Christmas…. astonishingly our very own Bagwan seeks mystic radiance in Cleveland each year.  His particular ‘Holy Land’ and as evidence of his love for us the unwashed, he has allowed us a rare glimpse into the workings of Bagwan’s spiritual embodiment.  So without further adieu please enjoy further ‘Truth and Light’ as anointed by the Bagwan:


It’s time for my annual trip to Cleveland to see the grandkids. Before you start all the Cleveland jokes let me tell you that it is not that bad. It has its own charm and I have never yet met anyone living there who wished they lived in Los Angeles.

The charm comes from the fact that it is something of a time capsule. When you don’t have a huge influx of people moving in from other parts of the country you simply keep doing it the way you always have. When I go to my grandsons’ basketball games at Catholic schools I am transported back into the ‘50’s when I was in grade school. Same architecture, same brick, same tiles and somewhere around the corner is the same nun (Sister Mary Paphneushous) waiting to rap me on the knuckles.

No question my appreciation of Cleveland is enhanced by the fact that I get to see three of my grandkids. Being a grandparent is by far the most satisfying role I have ever played in my life. I’ll bet that even Zuki’s grandparents liked him. I won’t bet a lot and I would need some odds.

I should admit that my trip doesn’t technically take me to Cleveland but rather to Avon Lake which is a suburb of Cleveland. Calling it a suburb doesn’t do it justice because it is really more of a small town which just happens to be close to Cleveland. It has its own personality and character and if you live there you really don’t ever have to go to Cleveland proper. If you get sick they even have their own branch of the Cleveland Clinic.

Probably not surprising that my favorite part of Avon Lake is that it has more than a few good neighborhood dive bars. Great places where everyone knows each other and each other’s business. After several years of attending and observing I have been accepted in a Jane Goodall kind of way. I have become such a regular in a couple of those places that I even get some votes in the local “Town Drunk” competition – no doubt embarrassing for the grandchildren.

This year in an effort to minimize my time in the local saloons I was going to come up with a project. I decided I was going write a musical. If that sounds strange let me tell you that you have no idea how strange. I hate musicals. I like music and I like stories but I don’t want to start to get involved in the plot only to have fucking Fred Astaire jump up on a table and start singing and dancing.

Anyways, the fact that it was difficult made it all the more tempting for me. I have never actually sat through a musical, either play or movie, so I didn’t know where to start. JJ is an aficionado of musical theatre and is often heard humming show tunes at the bar at Blondie’s – which has increased the diversity of the clientele there.

I lured him over to the bar at the South so I could get some of his undivided attention. When he is at Blondie’s he is distracted by all the unwashed groveling, asking his advice and trying to touch his garment. We had a good talk and after hearing about his favorite production I decided to do a fun parody that I was going to call “Hitler on the Roof.” Imagine my despair when I got home and Googled only to find that it had already been done.

I wonder if anyone has done “Saturday Night Fuhrer?”



HOISTED ON THEIR OWN PETARD!……..zuki targeted for ‘wool gathering’

Don't let this happen to us!!

Don’t let this happen to us!!

Good Morning Village People,

It has come to my attention that Blondie’s intends to put a stop to excessive wool gathering at the bar. Without real proof it’s hard to determine if this policy has been inspired by me or some other mooch, but I’m concerned.  I’ve become the master of nursing a Vodka-Tonic for 60 minutes. The trouble with open directives though, is they must be adhered to by everyone regardless of the one or two people it’s meant to affect.

For a drinking establishment this is a slippery slope because it would reflect badly on management to appear to encourage immoderate drinking by enforcing a per-hour quota. I guess what really bothers me is the fact management couldn’t speak to me directly about this and felt it necessary to draft this corporate policy to get someone else atop my stool. Again all of this is yet to be substantiated, but my source is sometimes reliable depending on what day it is, so I assume it’ll be official by end of the week.

This represents significant change.

For the two or three of you still reading this philosophaster you know how much curmudgeons resist change, and fear the rules committee will not be consulted.  Chances are I’ll be alone on this as no other member would be concerned given their respective levels of consumption and will simply wave goodbye when I’m asked to leave.  Anticipating little or no support I think a didactic approach might be necessary in mitigating this pending gaffe.

I think it’s important to begin with a general definition don’t you? Here it is:

Departmental Directives are used to issue policies, procedures, and guidance which have general applicability for all patrons, as well as off-duty staff.

My defense is historically based. When injunctions or directives are initiated at any level of corporate or governmental hierarchies the eventuality of its initiator falling prey to their own directives is a foregone conclusion! Truly the boss has indeed created his/her own noose and eventually ‘hoisted on his/her own petard!’

Who can forget the Grant administration’s exorbitant payouts to members of a shell company for work on railroads never completed? This of course was from government coffers! In fact scandal plagued him his entire term causing him to become less popular than Bush-2.  Grover Cleveland fathers an illegitimate child, in spite of rumors indicating he couldn’t find his penis! This child grew up to drown Grover in his oversized bathtub!  Clinton getting BJ’s in the Oval Office is punished by being forced to live with Hillary!  ALL collective actions above were in defiance of clearly stated directives to the contrary!

To bring my point front and center so that my colleagues fully understand, let us not forget the countless indiscretions committed while sitting at the bar. It begs the question….do we need additional decrees at the bar?

Today the quota, tomorrow flatulence; where will it stop?

By insisting on an hourly quota without a collective protest we open Pandora’s Box! Once management sees how easily these corporate directives are absorbed, you mark my words the flood of rules concerning everything from dress codes to tipping will be in the form of signed memos! I trust the good patrons at Blondie’s will recognize the potential restrictions to our personal freedoms if this policy is adopted. I implore you for once in your drunken lives to look beyond this measure and see it for the insidious life sucking abomination it really is!!!

Have a nice day,


BAGWAN SAYS WORDS HAVE CONSEQUENCES………JJ due for seizure yeah baby!!

Yeah Baby!!!

Yeah Baby!!!

Good Morning Ninny Whiphers,

Once again our very own Bagwan has seen fit to dwell among we the unwashed to deliver more Truth & Light.  Today’s message is both a warning and of hope; you’ll have to decide which one applies to you.  So please put your hands together and give it up for the lofty one….I give you the Bagwan:


UPDATE (New shit has come to light)

Just a short while back we had a discussion here at the Diatribe about words. Words and expressions you don’t hear anymore, words that have had their meanings change over time and words that you wish you didn’t hear anymore.

In the last category of words you wish you didn’t hear any more I referenced my long time pet peeve, “just saying” and the current favorite of JJ, “Yeah Baby!!!” Zuki took me to task for singling out JJ, saying what harm can come from him yelling “yeah baby” every time the Broncos get a first down or even every time Dawn brings him a Coors Light?

Well it turns out Zuki was (dead) wrong yet again. Based on news reports coming out of Columbus Ohio there is apparently a great deal of harm that comes from the repeated use of the term. Let me share with you a couple of excerpts from an AP report about a very sad story:

  • Ohio State University football players, wrestlers and other from the community came together to remember the life of Kosta Karageorge, who at age 22, was found dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound on Sunday.
  • Karageorge would always say, ‘Yeah, baby! Yeah, baby!’ just before coming out on the field to practice every day,” Ohio State rusher Ezekiel Elliott told the Associated Press on Wednesday.

Apparently the constant chants of “Yeah baby” are just as annoying to the user as they are to those of us who have to listen to them. Think about it for a moment, we listeners have the option of getting up and leaving while the poor guy saying it has no escape. He is a prisoner of his own queer addiction.

There will be an inquiry into what led this troubled man to shoot himself and no doubt they will find that he had brain damage related to concussions. I doubt they will be able to connect the dots from the brain damage to the “yeah babies” to the suicide – but trust me, brain damage and “yeah babies” are connected at the hip (please excuse the faulty imagery).

I bring all this up to point out to Zuki that he was wrong with his “what’s the harm” comment but more importantly to ask a couple of questions. Isn’t this just like the issue of second hand smoke? Are we all at risk here with continued exposure?

Prolonged exposure to annoying sounds can drive one to drink – we see that every day in Curmudgeon Corner. Listening to each other has clearly led to several hardened livers but it is frightening to think that it can lead to more desperate measures. I remember several years ago reading about a composer and arranger who shot himself shortly after he had been working with Celine Dion and John Tesh. Coincidence? I think not – annoying sounds can hurt.

Being annoying is not against the law, but being really annoying should be. Maybe some Ferguson type demonstrations are in order here. God knows that looting the Safeway could help Zuki balance out his diet.  Let’s make a commitment that this aggression will not stand. We will draw a line in the sand against saying things like ‘just saying,’ ‘yeah baby’ and maybe even ‘at the end of the day.’ Together we will make America (or at least Blondie’s) a safer place to live and drink.


BAGWAN’S BIG FORESTED ADVENTURE……moss & fungi put damper on ‘vision quest’

Ummm Tasty

Ummm Tasty

Good Morning Sufferers of Zoanthropy,

While the weekend served up a few surprises, it was child’s play compared to the self-inflicted wound administered by one of our own.  I’ve heard from a seldom reliable source that this person was hospitalized from eating Death Cap Mushrooms.  Left untreated, the toxins contained in these fungi will rapidly shut down a person’s liver.

While I’m all for harvesting Mother Nature’s bounteous goodies as we all are, but damn it man, one needs to know what the hell one is doing.  I promised not to reveal this person’s identity, but suffice it to say we’ve all sought his guidance one time or another.  He often takes on the mantle of being the collective conscious of ‘Curmudgeons Corner.’

It seems this man of holy aptitude recently consulted a Nanai Neoshaman about the use of entheogens to achieve perfect psycho-connection between him and those he encounters.  While it’s hard to blame anyone for wanting to improve, but as it turned out, the experience has actually caused our Holy Man to become more embittered than ever!  After spending a week with Shaman Little Stick wandering the primeval coastal forests of Oregon, our well intentioned friend felt ready to go it alone in his ‘Vision Quest’ and seek sustenance from the land.

He traveled south to the San Francisco area near Big Sur.  With only a burlap bag, he girded up his loins and hiked deep into the woods.  Two days in he found it difficult to find those roots and berries that seemed so plentiful a couple hundred miles north.  With the exception of a few grubs and tree bark, our quixotic associate ate nothing and was weak with hunger.

While self-deprivation is an important part of this process, he’d give it up right there and then for a Philly Cheese Steak!  By day four, he found himself too weak to move, each step further sapping his energy.  He barely sustained life and knew he’d soon become forest food if he didn’t locate something to eat.  He gathered what strength left and plodded along looking under fallen trees, rocks, and the occasional birds nest for nourishment.

At last he came upon a rotting tree and lo and behold it was covered with mushrooms!  He filled his burlap bag, and then began to stuff handfuls into his mouth.  With hunger so intense he hardly chewed swallowing his booty whole.  Engorged, our would-be Shaman laid on his back thanking the forest for his good fortune.

But within 15 minutes his gratitude turned into abject pain.  The Death Caps began to eat away at the holy man’s liver doubling him over and at the same time the psilocybin induced hallucinations were far beyond anything he’d experienced in college.  Trees began melting; creeks turned to blood, and he was convinced to follow the bright lights.  In severe pain and a fever off the charts, our beloved associate stripped down to his loincloth and began to run knowing his only chance was to make it back to the highway, west some 15 miles.

Nearly blind he stumbled and fell rolling 50 feet before a boulder stopped him.  The tumbling motion caused him to vomit which in the end the doctors agreed may have saved his life!  He realized he was bleeding from the constant scraping of tree limbs as he ran by.  But in his advanced hallucinatory state, the blood appeared as glitter and in his altered reasoning thought it meant he’d been turned into the Elfin King not subject to the suffering of mortals.

It’s difficult to fathom how he made it to the highway, but bleeding and agonized by pain he staggered along the shoulder completely naked until the Death Caps overcame him physically and fell unconscious on the road.

Against my better judgment, I visited our associate still in the hospital to see if he’d lost all cognitive ability from his torturous week.  He didn’t recognize me at first, but finally gave me a wry smile and flipped me off!  I suspect he’ll make a full recovery.

As we all know, this wanna-be holy man tends to be a bit fussy and has asked anyone else considering a visit to perform personal insertion and spin. Very nice eh?

I took up a collection to purchase the kind of mushrooms he was looking for so he can attempt another sojourn into the woods.  The “Send Bagwan Away” campaign has been so successful that we’ve raised enough money to send him to Borneo where with any luck at all, he’ll find his purpose and dedicate the rest of his life serving the indigenous people.  But far more likely to happen is they’ll expose his words as bullshit and set him on fire!…… Let us Pray!


SANTINO & SPECIAL LADY FRIEND SEE LIGHT……cush drives one more to suicide

RTH gets on tippy toes

RTH gets on tippy toes

“The most interesting information comes from children, for they tell all they know and then stop.”

Mark Twain–

I came across the above quote the other day and immediately thought of my fellow associates here at ‘Curmudgeon Corner.’  While Just JOE will hardly allow anyone to finish a thought before he tries to finish it for them is irritating, but pales when compared to Cush–who by the way was appointed as the ‘Corner’s’ shop steward, “and proud we are of him.”  It doesn’t take one but a few minutes to realize that after Aunt Myrna, Union hall politics, his health, Pulled Pork recipe, and fishing for Walleye it’s clear we’ve essentially heard everything he knows!  The rest is spewed indiscriminately with bits and chunks landing randomly on anyone sucked into further conversation.

While Cush has been much maligned in this our humble forum, and suffice it to say he nearly always means well, so the ‘rules committee’ has agreed to give him a pass regarding what if anything he knows.  Instead we’re going to focus on an up and coming ‘curmudgeon’ whose credentials are certainly suspect, but we enjoy his brand of jocularity and ability to play the jukebox correctly!

“Santino” joined the ‘Corner’ a couple of years ago and was noticed by this observer of ‘Life’s rich pageant’ when he schooled this old fart with a wonderful collection of classic and contemporary blues artists on Blondie’s jukebox—-which given the modest library, is a feat unto itself!

As with all current and past members of ‘Curmudgeon Corner,’ Santino is no doubt flawed.  However, he tends to keep his personal life quiet and won’t suffer significant intrusions into it.  Having said that though, all that does is fire curmudgeons up!  The ‘Corner’ immediately passed the hat and came up with $3.87 and hired the nearly retired and desperately clinging to his manhood ‘Roger the Hairdresser.’ He was given half the money upfront with promises to pay the rest when he locates Santino and his “special lady friend.” His assignment:  to find dirt and other opportunities to besmirch and sully their reputations.

I was impressed with how fast RTH located the aspiring curmudgeons.  The couple lives in a high-rise condominium with a lovely view to the west.  Equipped with high power binoculars and a shotgun microphone RTH used his little limbs and carefully climbed (in cowboy boots) up a large Elm that visually put him on the 5th floor level and was able to look directly into the unsuspecting couple’s living room and kitchen.  RTH held vigil on a tree limb for six hours!

When Roger the Hairdresser showed up to collect his $1.93 of course the committee needed to see just what dirt he’d found.  He’d been able to hook up a telephoto lens and sync the audio & video so we gathered around the devise and watched in utter horror.

In those six hours we saw Santino chasing his “Special lady friend” naked around the couch, eat raw cookie dough, read stories to the neighbor’s kids, prepare a couple meals, smoke a bowl, feed the birds, and assist an old woman with her groceries.  This was hardly the ‘dirt’ I envisioned!

The ‘rules committee’ voted to withhold final payment from RTH until such time he brings home something we can use.  It’s not that we want to expose his peccadillos; rather, knowing him to be flawed somehow makes us all feel better about our own miserable lives.  Stay tuned.