Elf On a Shelf. Elf on a Shelf. May the creator of this plague upon Christmas holiday tranquility be forced to celebrate Christmas with Rosanne Barr and Ellen Degenerate.
In the never ending effort to pretend that everyone is exactly the same and to prove that no one can say anything about anybody without being either prejudiced, stereotyping, or profiling, I see where a petition has been made to Easy- Bake Oven to include boys on their boxes in advertising.
Well, Thanksgiving has now come and gone but reasons for being thankful continue. I’m first thankful to read that Dolly Parton has now come forward and denied rumors and allegations that she is gay.
It was love at first sight, at least for her. But who could blame her staring intently back at me? After all, what’s not to love? Dark raven black hair, steely dark eyes, and an anxious gaze of anticipation all told me this would be a match made in heaven.
Well, the presidential election has finally ended, and now you will no longer be entertained by an avalanche of ads.
By the time this article is read, the presidential election will be decided. I can’t possibly predict the results, but it got me to reflecting back to simpler times when I was a much younger man.
I traveled this past weekend to Hilton Head to visit my wife’s relatives. The 7-year-old Hurricane boy and 9-year-old princess found out we were leaving for the beach and ran the car down before I could get out of the driveway.
Two weeks ago, France celebrated one of its great achievements in history. No, it was not the fact they managed to last 10 days before Germany routed them in World War II, nor was it celebrating the French 32-hour work week and 54 weekly paychecks in a 52-week year. Those accomplishments are already being continually celebrated in France while the Germans work overtime to pay so the French do not have to work.
It is now official. America is going to hell in a handbasket. This fact is very disturbing and it may even be more serious than I know because, to tell you the truth, I don’t know what in the world going to hell in a handbasket really means to begin with.
The 7-year-old Hurricane boy is currently playing football in a tackle football league. He’s playing what we use to refer to as midget football. I guess it is no longer politically correct to say midget football and I’m not sure what I am supposed to call the game he is playing.
The 9-year-old princess girl was expounding on the qualities she felt essential in a marriage partner. “He’d need to be caring, daddy, and a good person. He’d need to love animals and love God, too, daddy.” I could feel a tear building up in my eye. The sweet, sensitive, all caring little princess then finished with the grand finale, the clincher, “and own a bunch of land and be rich too.”
As all men know, time marches on. Although I do not consider myself old, I realize that somewhere down the line I may be faced with the prospect placement in a nursing home or as more fashionably titled these days, an assisted living home.
Just when I thought Prince Harry and the British Royal Family were through with further public humiliations, the news is now abuzz that Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, and commonly known as Kate, has been photographed topless.
As described in a previous article, Prince Harry of Britain romped in the buff throughout Las Vegas and used the judgment of Lindsey Lohan allowing one of the women with him to take pictures of the joyful occasion.
The 7-year-old hurricane boy, 9-year-old princess girl, mamma and poor ol' daddy went to town to return some shoes that were too small for the princess. Rest assured, it was not my idea. I've never returned an item to a store in my life. If I got home and had a tutu in my bag, I'd wear it.