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Posts Tagged ‘Humor’

Dinosaur

Pro-now

Shoot people

My state

 

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Last week in the Jefferson Kroger, I was met by a curious sight: approaching me in the aisle was a woman pushing a grocery cart in which was seated a toddler, a boy, who had both arms in the air and was bobbing his head rhythmically.

The sight became curiouser when the child burst into song.

We will
We will
WOCK YOU!

His head bobbed to the beat. He pumped his upraised fists in time to the music playing in his head.

Frankly, he looked barely old enough to talk, much less sing rock songs. But there he was, belting out a tune nicely on key.

A pause of several seconds followed, then

We will
We will
WOCK YOU!

A pause of several seconds followed, then

We will
We will
WOCK YOU!

By then, our carts had passed in the aisle, and they were behind me. Even after I turned down the next aisle, I could still hear the boy singing heartily.

We will
We will
WOCK YOU!

A pause of several seconds followed, then

We will
We will
WOCK YOU!

Eventually, the refrain ceased. Either he was too far away to be heard or his mom shut him up.

Oddly, the mom seemed focused on her shopping and oblivious to the boy’s performance. I wondered briefly if she might be hearing-impaired, but decided that was improbable.

Anyway, the child was truly in the zone, and I was happy for him. It’s good to, you know, let it all hang out.

Keep on rockin’ while you can, kid. The inhibitions, insecurity, and self-consciousness will bubble up soon enough.

We Will Wock You

Wocking the Jefferson Kroger.

The Queen classic We Will Rock You is an interesting song for various reasons, which I will address in my next post, a Tune o’ the Day.

 

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Meteor

Follow

Hate

Testing

 

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Melons

Guess

Scooby

Toyoda

 

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NAMIB DESERT, AFRICA — A Namibian-German artist has installed a sound system in the Namib, the world’s oldest desert, that will play the 1982 soft rock classic Africa by the band Toto in a perpetual loop “for all eternity.”

The installation by artist Max Siedentopf consists of six speakers attached to an MP3 player powered by solar batteries. Mr. Siedentopf said he wanted to pay tribute to “probably the most popular song in the last four decades.”

Africa has seen a resurgence in popularity in recent years and was one of the most-streamed songs of 2017.

Toto-Africa

BOSCAWEN, NEW HAMPSHIRE — When police responded to reports of a shooting at a local residence, a man at the house was arrested for biting a police dog.

When police arrived at the scene, they encountered two men who they found were wanted on outstanding warrants. The men attempted to flee. In the ensuing scuffle, one of the men bit a police dog, K9 Veda. Veda bit him back.

The unidentified man was charged with resisting arrest and assaulting a police dog.

One of the arresting officers observed that getting into a biting contest with a police dog is ill-advised.

Veda

WESLEY CHAPEL, FLORIDA — Last fall, local resident Don Swartz modified his Smart mini-car into a replica of Fred Flintstone’s “footmobile.”

Swartz then dressed up as Fred Flintstone and arranged to have the local police cite him for speeding as he drove around town.

The Pasco County Sheriff’s Office obliged. An officer stopped Swartz, gave him a faux citation, and took photos that were posted on the department’s Facebook page. “Yabba Daaba Doo!” the post concluded.

Swartz did not offer a rationale for the elaborate stunt.

Flintstone

 

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Let's eat

Quit

Baby

Clown

 

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Friends, I am truly jaded when it comes to fads.

To be clear, I’m referring to fads, not trends. Beanie Babies and pet rocks were fads; electric cars and ebooks are trends.

These days, when I learn of a new craze or obsession — the latest sensation in attire, style, or whatever — my reaction is either a chuckle, a sigh, or an eye roll.

The only reason something clicks and is deemed cool and exciting is that, for a brief time, people have a chance to feel cool and enjoy the excitement, right? We all know the novelty will wear off and the mania will fizzle.

Consider the many fads that came and went in recent times. Bellbottoms, drive-in theaters, fallout shelters, ant farms, tie-dyed clothing.

Zoot suits, leg warmers, eight-track tapes, Rubik’s cubes. Members Only jackets. Break dancing, yo-yos, hula hoops.

The Twist. The Macarena. Bermuda shorts. Mom jeans. Overalls with one strap dangling.

Nothing wrong with a shared enthusiasm, mind you. But, wow, fads sure do lean toward the dopey and pointless.

What, you ask, brings me to opine that embracing the next new thing is dopey and pointless? Simple. I was thinking about myself back in the day, when I was young and foolish, too.

Back in high school, I was — you can trust me on this — a hip and savvy dude. I knew what was happenin’, and I put much energy into following the fads du jour.

Note, for example, how I rocked the epitome of cool in those days, a flattop haircut. Not to mention this stylish tweed blazer.

Walter Allan Smith (Rocky), about 1959.

Before long, I advanced to a glorified flattop — AKA a Detroit, AKA a “flattop with fenders.” That baby was flat on top and long on the sides, tapering to a handsome ducktail in the back.

Fad-2

When I went away to college in the early 1960s, the times were a’changin’. Flattops were becoming passé on campus, so I heeded the call to go preppy. It was sort of the astronaut or folk singer look.

Walter Allan Smith (Rocky), freshman year in college, 1960-61.

By the time I graduated from college, the hippies were in ascendance. Long hair was the new thing for men.

But not for me. Alas, I went immediately from college into the Air Force, which tolerated no longhairs. I was obliged to keep the preppy look.

Walter Allan Smith (Rocky), Cannon AFB, NM.

By the time I was a civilian again, I was married with kids and working 9 to 5 in an office. Becoming a longhair would have been ill-advised as a career strategy. Thus, for a goodly time, the only variation in my hair style was the length of my sideburns.

Eventually, I got tired of worrying about whether my sideburns were the fashionable length of the moment, so I grew a beard.

Walter Allan Smith (Rocky), 12/25/1984.

That was in the mid-1980s. I haven’t shaved since.

Also, to be honest, a sobering personal reality was becoming obvious in those days: the signs were undeniable that male pattern baldness was in my future. Being a longhair probably wouldn’t be in the cards anyway. Nature can be cruel and without pity.

So can some people. My dad, who kept a full head of hair to the end, found this turn of events greatly amusing.

Anyway, as a result of how the hair thing worked out for me, I bypassed half a lifetime of men’s coiffure fads.

I say that with no regret whatsoever.

Fad-6

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Fad-8

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And, hey — don’t get me started on skinny jeans.

Fad-10

 

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