Binge Residue

 

Having watched approximately 260 episodes of Leave it to Beaver, during the Covid shutdown, I’m discovering mental side effects.  First off, let me just say that I find it hard to believe that anyone with such a diminished capacity as Beaver, could actually function within society without entering politics.

Episode after episode, season after season the Beaver fell for the same moronic gibberish, doled out by Larry, Gilbert, Richard, Whitey, Lumpy, and Eddie Haskell.

And I can’t really cut June and Ward any slack either.  Get a clue people.   Your kid was born without a brain.  You should have called the Guinness Book.

Okay, getting back to my side effects.   The Beaver has ruined television for me.  I’ve gotten so I can't believe anything I see.

On one channel I see Raymond Burr in a wheelchair, while two channels over he’s walking around a courtroom.  And Lassie, with no normal speech or opposable thumbs, convinces June Lockhart that Timmy has fallen into a well.

Am I the schmuck?  Is it me?

 

The Pirate Joke

 

Hellen Snoop worked for WKLD in San Diego.  Her latest assignment was to locate and interview the last remaining pirate.  Word was that he hung out along the boardwalk, somewhere in the bars, between the tee shirt, and surfboard shops.

Hellen took her film crew down to the waterfront late Saturday night.  It was in a dimply lit bar where, sitting there in the back corner, was in fact, the very last living pirate.

          She stopped at the bar and asked the bartender what the old man was drinking.  Rum and Coke, the bartender replied.  Let me have two of them, she said.

As she approached the old pirate, she smiled and set the drinks down in front of him.

Hello, she said.  My name is Hellen, and I would like to interview you, if you don’t mind.

ARGGGG! Was the response of the pirate.  What be yer pleasure?

          How about if we just start off with a few questions, and if there is anything you don’t want to answer, just say, PASS.  OK?

          Ask away, the pirate said.

          Well, I can see you have but one leg.  Can you tell me what happened?

          Ah!  You see, we was doing battle on the high seas.  They were lobbing cannon balls at us, and we were lobbing cannon balls at them.  Well, I was just getting ready to fire at their ship when one of their cannon balls flew over the rail and took me leg off right at the knee.  I’ve had this peg ever since.

          Hellen looked down at her little tape recorder to make sure it was working.  It was.

          What about that hook where your hand should be? She asked.

          Once again lassie, we were swash-buckling out at sea.  They were jumping on our ship, and we were jumping on theirs.  I spun around to run this scallywag through with my sword, when as luck would have it, he was just wee bit faster than I, and he lopped me hand off at the wrist, but there isn’t anything you can do with you hand that I can’t do with this hook.

          And if you don’t mind – what about the patch over your eye?  Did that happen in battle as well?

 

          No Lassie, the seas were calm, the temperature was mild and only a hint of a breeze.  All of a sudden there was this big ruckus up in the crow’s nest.

          I looked up to see what was going on, when the biggest seagull I’d ever seen in me life, pooped right in me eye.

      Well… I’d only had the hook a couple days.

 

 

 

 

Save the Date

 

The Rabbit

 I had initially thought there was ample room.  In the store they seemed to fit just fine.  I walked on the tile floor as well as on the carpet and they felt great.

Here, walking along the sidewalk, my toes feel cramped, like there isn’t enough room in these shoes.  What could possibly be different between the floor of the shoe store and this sidewalk? And now that I have worn them outside, they won’t take them back.  I’m stuck.  They have my money and I have shoes that don’t fit.

Not only don’t they fit, but my feet hurt more and more with each step I take.  As I tried to figure out why all of a sudden they seem smaller than they did in the store, a rabbit, who had been munching something in the tall grass, sat up and spoke to me.

Hello, he said, I see you’re having a problem.

It’s my shoes, I replied, before realizing I was conferring with a rabbit.

I can tell, the rabbit said.  Could I offer you a suggestion?

You don’t wear shoes, I said.  What could you possibly know about footwear?

Okay then, the rabbit replied, be that way.  See if I care.

I could tell right away I had hurt his feelings.  I was rude, I told the rabbit, I’m sorry.

You are right about me not wearing shoes, but I have learned many things about sidewalks, he said.  For example, this one runs downhill.  As you are walking, you are sliding forward in your shoes, without even noticing it.  That causes your toes to crunch up against the inside toe of your shoes.

You are very wise, rabbit.  I had not thought of that.  I am, indeed, going downhill.  So what can I do to fix this?

First, said the rabbit, turn around and walk up-hill.  This will test my theory.  If your feet stop hurting when you go up hill, then your feet will slide to the back of your shoes and you’ll know I was right.

Truly these were complex thoughts for a rabbit.  I had to ask, just what kind of rabbit are you?

Snowshoe, he said smiling.

 

 

Space Available

 

Perhaps it is the vastness of the universe that draws Mankind into fantasies of exploration.  The caution, however, is the same reason magicians do not give away their secrets.  Once you know – the fun is gone.

The majority of my writing violates Benjamin Franklin’s philosophy.  He said, “Write something worth reading, or do something worth writing.”

It is the space within my gray matter that I explore.  For me, that exploration is fun.  You are the passengers along for the ride.  Together we discover that on occasion some of my neuro synapses misfire.  Looking out of our window into the vast darkness we may see a lonely noun standing next to a flat tire, or some misguided adjective trying hard to escape the denseness of a black paragraph.

Lightyears away there is a rule book suggesting I go to jail for some of the metaphors I’ve mixed, but I scoff.  I have a small placard hanging from my rearview mirror which allows me to park on the tracks if I so desire.

As long as there remains space available, I’ll be there.  Whenever punctuation falls short of hitting its mark – I’ll be there.  At any accident scene during a run-on sentence, I’ll be there.

Good-bye 2021.  I’m headed to infinity – and beyond.

 

Milo Finch

 

Milo Finch

1950 - 2056

Author, Photographer, District Attorney,

Part-time plumber, Gardner &

Hedge fund trimmer.

Inventor of the Hands-free Oven Mitts

Moo Lake

 

and then the lake 

flooded over the pasture.

Some cows were perplexed.

Others enjoyed the refreshing temperature.

We only saw one put her face in the water

and blow bubbles.

The Cats Name is Fluffy

 

The movie opens as they are sailing through a mysterious fog. She is below deck for whatever reason, so he is the only one who gets exposed to the strange mist.

Throughout the rest of the movie, we see him shrinking smaller and smaller.  Really, its incredible.

Soon, too small to just roam about the house, his wife has him living in a child’s doll house.  He quickly discovers that their pet cat is neither fun nor cuddly.

With string and a straight pin our hero fends off a spider, scales a massive basement step and just before the credits roll, he steps out through the window screen, disappearing into the tall blades of grass in the backyard.

Perhaps a better adventure would have him exploring the inside of a pocket, getting a close-up view of the double stitching so popular with Levi-Strauss, dodging pocket change as it falls to the depths; maybe being violently shaken as a cell phone set to vibrate plunges him into convulsions.

OK, maybe not.

Scan Me

 

Still hanging on...

 

Look no further

 Your Christmas

shopping ideas are here.

Give the gift of Books

1.  Easy to wrap

2.  Reusable

3.  Classy 

4.  Inexpensive to mail

For the readers on your list..

Under the Frosting

A wonderful adventure story

The Pantry

A great collection of short stories

Wise & Otherwise

Amazing photography & Poetry

All available on Amazon

by: Harvey Sarkisian

Children's books also available by this author.

The Adventures of Wendy Crow

&

Winter Corn

Enjoy

& Merry Christmas 

 

Overlooked by Ansel Adams

 

The last to leave the party

 

Moderate to Severe

 

My Latest Adventure

 

I set out to follow the shadow around the room.  It moves slowly, with the changing location of the Sun.

I could have chosen to follow the sunny area, but that always seems to disappear at night, and I want this journey to take me to the places where only shadows go, for even at night the shadows remain.  They’re just harder to see.

I expect them to be full of bumps and scary things, maybe even gossip and backroom shenanigans, everything we never get to see in the light of day.

I have just passed the coffee table and expect soon I’ll reach the far end of the couch.  The breeze flaps the curtains, making feeble attempts to send me along a false trail of flickering shadows.

I should have brought a snack with me as the shadow doesn’t appear to be heading towards the kitchen.

 

I didn’t plan this adventure very well.  And by the way, I should note here that the shadow moves much faster than you’d think.  It has already disappeared around the edge of the hallway and at the moment I can’t see where it has gone.

Maybe this would be a good time to slip into the kitchen, you know – just to see if it went in there.

I'll be back...

I told you...

 

I'd be here to catch you if you fell.

Finally...