Except None Of Mine Have Buck Teeth (That I Can See)

Tow Maters.

For those of you who haven't been following the ongoing drama of your Pope's garden, all one of it, I planted my Tow Mater back on April 4th of this year, which you can do if you live, as I do, in the warm climes of Southern California, specifically in the San Fernando Valley, part of the city of Greater Los Angeles, as well as the porn capital of the world, two dubious distinctions at best.

I won't bore you with a long soliloquy today on the pleasures and benefits of urban gardening, except to say that I am proud, as any father should be on this Father's Day, 2012, of my Tow Mater. Thanks, God, for blessing me with this miracle of vegetables.

FYI, my daughter sent me a copy of a wonderful cookbook (I never in my wildest dreams thought I would ever see the day that I would be receiving cookbooks as gifts...and liking them) called "The Tomato Cookbook" by Roy F. Guste, Jr. It only showed up yesterday, so I haven't had a chance to really peruse the recipes, but the ones I've read so far sound delicious. I can hardly wait to get started. Thanks, sweety, it's a great gift.

Not as good as being your Dad, but very good.

(Oh, that "Pope" thing back there in the first paragraph? Yeah, that's a gig I took on a little over a year ago; you can check out the explanation at the top of this page (up) to learn about my ascent into high-stakes Popehood. Welcome to the All John All The Time World Church, which has its headquarters in the aforementioned San Fernando Valley. A third dubious distinction for the SFV, or as those of us who reside here refer to it, the 818. It's a local joke.)

Back to the Tow Maters: as you can see, my plant has one partially ripe Tow Mater hanging on its vines currently, with a veritable shitload to follow; at last count there were 20 or so incipient ripe Tow Maters. There are bacon, lettuce and Tow Mater sandwiches coming, plus gallons of Tow Mater sauce, some Tow Maters Stuffed With Chicken And Mushrooms (one of the recipes in my new cookbook, and FYI, this is only the second cookbook I've ever owned, and I have no idea where the first one is located), probably a batch or two of Tow Mater Grits (another recipe) and just oddles of Tow Mater and Jalapeno salsa.

I am so pumped...which isn't easy when you're my age.

Speaking of my age, I had a immediate reminder of my age (I recently celebrated the 29th anniversary of my 32nd birthday) a few days ago when, during the second round of the current NBA playoffs, I called a friend to inquire if he intended to view the televised game that evening between the Miami Heat and the Indiana Pacers. My question to him was thus:

"Hey, are you watching the Hate Peacers game tonight?"

Inadvertently.

It just came out like that; as my Uncle Fred used to say, my tongue got in the way of my eyeteeth and I couldn't see a thing I was saying. It reminded me of that radio announcer from back in the 20's, who, while doing an live on-air advertisement for a Hoover vacuum cleaner tells his audience, in spate of excitement, that "ladies everywhere are trying the new Heever Clooner".

Hate Peacers.

Old age, creeping in under the guise of the wisdom of years; it's insidious.

I've decided, apropos of nothing, to start another rock band; I'm calling it I Have Something On My Leg.

I just thought that would be a great name for a rock band: I Have Something On My Leg.

Or maybe Tow Mater and His Plump Romas.

(For those of you who are horticulturally challenged, a "Roma" is a type of Tow Mater.)

(My garden is not a Roma-type Tow Mater; I just liked how it sounded.)

Thank you, God, for my Tow Mater, my incredibly beautiful, and thoughtful, daughter, my grandsons, my favorite (and only, to speak of dubious distinctions) son-in-law, my friends and family, and all your blessings, and a very happy Father's Day to all of you who qualify.

Love and Tow Mater soup,

PJTT

copyright 2012 Krissongs Inc.

This, That And The Other (Its Your Choice)

That is a Porsche 914, one of the few automobiles in the world with an air-cooled engine; that's right, sports fans, no radiator, no coolant. I actually used to own one of these, a 1974; it was a great car. They only produced this model for a few years, from '69 through '76. (Mine was white; unlike the 914, I am not air-cooled, nor is my engine in the rear.)

I'm sitting here, deep in the throes of evening on a Sunday, in the headquarters of the All John All The Time World Church, located here in the benign but deeply confused San Fernando Valley, wondering what I should write about; I've often read about authors (real ones) being tormented by "writer's block" and never understood how exasperating it can be. ("Writer's block", I assume, is the equivalent of "athlete's foot" to athletes or "fireman's carry" to...; never mind.)

Anyway, as is frequently the case with your Pope (yes, I am Pope John The Tall, leader of the AJATTWC; how I came to hold such a lofty position in life is explained above) (see above), I have no particular theme for today's post, nor reason to write one, other than being afflicted with the inability to keep my mouth shut. Or my thoughts to myself.

So for lack of a better subject, this will be another essay on "This, That And The Other".

Rather than a treatise, say, on quantum mechanics, a subject of which I know absolutely nothing; my knowledge of quantum mechanics is equal to my understanding of women.

*** The legislature of the great state of Tennessee recently passed a law making it legal for school-teachers to beat their students profusely with a large stick any time they so choose; wait, that's incorrect, that was the Mississippi legislature that passed that law. No, Tennessee made it legal for teachers to challenge "the teaching of some scientific subjects," including global warming, evolution, human cloning and gravity. (One can only assume that Scientology and astrology are not targets for later legislation; and okay, I made up the part about gravity.)

There are NUMEROUS comments I could make about the passage of this law, but since I make a studious effort to avoid speaking of politics here on my blog, I will refrain. I will say that the great state of Tennessee is second to none in its respect and admiration for teachers everywhere, and that the lawmakers of the State feel strongly about the American flag, motherhood and apple pie, not in that order.

And I feel certain that, should I ever decide to run for political office, the above comment would be completely apropos in all instances I would be called upon to express an opinion or to articulate a stand on some issue or another. (As a Christian, I am pleased that Intelligent Design can now be taught, right alongside Darwin's theory of evolution, in Tennessee schools; as a moderate, I'm terrified what some conservative right-wingnuts will do with this opportunity.)

So much for refraining from "speaking of politics".

*** Speaking of politicians with no discernible agenda (we were?), I came across this gem in the third volume of the incredible series of books on Presidential elections, "The Making Of The President 1968", by one of the most erudite and influential political authors of all time, Mr. Theodore H. White, who won a Pulitzer Prize for his first volume, "The Making Of The President 1960". Mr. White, speaking of the candidacy of George Romney, then governor of Michigan and father of the current presumptive Republican Presidential nominee, "Mittens", quotes then governor of Ohio, James Rhodes, as saying the following: "Watching George Romney run for the Presidency is like watching a duck try to make love to a football", proving unequivocally that history, indeed, does have the capacity to repeat itself. (Why do I suspect that Governor Rhodes used slightly saltier language when making this observation in private?)

*** Today is April 15th; do you know where your tax return is?

*** Organizers of the 2012 Summer Olympics in London recently contacted Bill Curbishley, manager of the rock band The Who, to inquire as to whether drummer Keith Moon would be interested, and available, to perform in the opening ceremonies of the quadrennial sporting event.

Unfortunately, Mr. Moon died in 1978, making him both a) deceased and, I would imagine, b) unavailable.

Mr. Moon is currently the drummer for the All Dead Band, which features Jimi Hendrix on guitar, Jim Morrison as lead vocalist, fellow Who member John Entwhistle on bass, Janis Joplin as back-up vocalist, both John Lennon and George Harrison on rhythm guitars and Bob Marley as resident reggae person.

To quote Homer Simpson: "D'uh."

*** If there is a more beautiful stadium in Major League Baseball than Dodger Stadium, which celebrates it's 50th birthday this month, well, actually, there isn't. Thank you, to Mr. Walter O'Malley and his family, for bringing the team to Los Angeles all those years ago, and building this incredible edifice to the greatest game in the world in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. He was truly, one of a kind, as is his stadium. (And you can mark this date, 4/15/12, as the day I predicted that the '12 Dodgers will make the playoffs this year. Book it.)

FYI, Dodger Stadium is the third oldest park in baseball, with Fenway Park in Boston, home of the ridiculous "Green Monster" left-field wall, in second place, and the granddaddy of them all, the oldest stadium in the country and home of the most futile organization in the history of modern sports, the Chicago Cubs, Wrigley Field in Chicago. (If you look up the word "futile" in the dictionary, you'll find a picture of the Cubs.)

*** For those of you who do not understand the joys of apartment living, the above is a picture of my garden, as viewed from my front porch, all one of it. (There is, at once, to my mind anyway, something heroic and yet very poignant about this picture.) FYI, I can happily report that, since the picture was taken, several days ago, the "garden" is growing well and amazingly fast. I should be up to my gunwales in tomatoes by summer.

Apparently, tomato plants have no recognition of the theory of gravity, much like the legislature of the State of Tennessee.

"Then God said, 'I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food.'" Genesis 1:29

He did not, however, clear up the controversy over whether the tomato is a fruit or a vegetable; there is also some doubt about my older brother, along the same lines.

Oh, and in looking up "gunwale" in my Webster's New World Dictionary Of The American Language (not to be confused with English), I found the following definition:

"A large marine creature with an AK-47 rifle growing from its frontal lobe."

And just for the record, at least in MY dictionary, "cleanliness" in NOT next to Godliness, it's next to "cleanly".

Love and miscellany,

PJTT

copyright 2012 Krissongs, Inc.

For My Friend Robin

I have the honor of writing something today that I have never had to write before: the eulogy of a fine woman who passed on well before what most of us would consider to be a full lifetime. I'm going to take this opportunity to praise her life, and to memorialize the parts that I was involved in, as best I can.

In 1973, when I was a very youthful 22 years of age, I was playing bass guitar in a glorified garage band with some friends, one of whom, our drummer, was dating a young lady named Robin, who was 18 and a senior in our local high school at the time.

Dave, the drummer, would bring Robin to our rehearsals and "gigs" occasionally, and I had the chance to get to know her, and like her, very much. So much in fact that finally, after a job we had played at a local Holiday Inn one early summer's evening that year, where she had come with David to hear us play, she went home with me. (It was okay: she and Dave were ready to go their separate ways anyway.)

We spent a great deal of time together that summer and fall, getting to know each other and learning to love each other, and early in 1974, she moved in with me, in my tiny, one-bedroom apartment on the west side of Joliet, just a few blocks from her family's home, and eventually we got married in June of '74.

I remember a lot of fun times, picnics, and softball games, going to the zoo and mostly, just being together; she had a great smile, and she was very pretty, and although her childhood had not been a good one, and had left many emotional scars which I tried, in my own fumbling way, to help her deal with, we were happy.

I remember how much she loved to dance; I remember how much music was a part of her life. I remember how much we enjoyed being together.

We worked, and we lived, and in 1977, after a very uncomfortable pregnancy for Robin, our daughter was born. We were, like most young parents, unsure at first about what to do with this small human we had brought into the world, but as time passed we grew into our roles as mom and dad. Kristina was an easy and happy baby, and we were a unit of three.

But as is so often the case with folks who marry very young, we grew up together, and in doing so, we grew apart. No one's fault, just a changing of who we were as people, a changing of directions as it were.

After I left, in 1982, our contact with each other, necessarily, was only occasioned by the dictates of raising our daughter together. There were some conflicts, and it was sometimes unpleasant.

Robin finally found her "soulmate", her husband Steve, a number of years after the divorce, and I know from the things she told me, many years later, that she found the happiness with him that she had been searching for all her life. I will tell you that, in my most secret moments, I often regretted not having been able to be that person to her.

She had, as I said, a difficult pregnancy with Kristina, but for all of that, it was many years later, at least for me, before we realized that she was already ill at that time with the disease that eventually ruined her life and hastened her departure to Heaven at such an early age.

The disease she had contracted was Chiari Malformation, and if the name doesn't sound familiar, it should be no surprise, for it is a rare condition. I'll skip the statistics about how many in 10,000 are afflicted, survival rates, etc., but suffice to say that it is no day in the park.

Through my daughter, I kept up with Robin's courageous fight against her illness, through the various treatments and surgeries and what apparently was unrelenting pain, over a period of many years. She was too sick to work, too sick to go out much and too sick to enjoy the life that she deserved. Her world became relegated to Steve, my daughter, her friends that she had made online who also had Chiari, and, mostly, to her God, because during the course of her fight, she had become a staunch Christian and a lover and follower of Jesus Christ.

I had not seen Robin for many years, having nothing more than very occasional email contact, so when I saw her at my daughter's wedding back in '05, I was taken back with how her disease had affected her. She was still a very attractive woman, but the Chiari was obviously taking its toll. At the time she was not quite 50, and looked much older.

We began exchanging Christmas cards every year, and as I said, through Kristina, I kept up with her ongoing physical battle. It was clear to all who knew her, that the disease, and the attendant other physiological problems, continued to exact a steep price.

Just recently, after Kristina had shared with her Mom my moment of salvation, I received a Facebook message from Robin, telling me, with great joy, how pleased she was that I had finally found God and accepted Jesus as my Savior. It was clear that she was thrilled for me, and I have to tell you, it touched my heart.

We began to correspond, through emails and FB messages, about once a week, talking about God's place in our lives and how being a Christian affects what we do. Despite how sick she had become, to the point where, at times, her sentences were confused and garbled, she was always cheerful and always tried to lend me great strength, with her encouragement and her praise.

She commented several times how much she liked some of my posts from "the Pope", and how that she had urged a number of her friends to read what I had written, because she felt the message was important. She shared with me her desire to one day write a book chronicling her battle with Chiari, and told me of the times when she fought despair by turning to God.

Robin passed away yesterday, 2/29, at the age of 56; too soon, and in too much pain. Although I roundly hate the cliché that is so often times used under these circumstances, that "she's better off now", in this instance, I truly believe she is, indeed, better off.

She's no longer suffering, and I will tell you with all that is in me, if this brave woman is not in Heaven, seated at the right hand of her God, than the rest of us have no chance whatsoever to ever gain eternal peace.

I can think of no one else that I have ever known in my life who more deserved Heaven than she.

I was teasing her, just last week, in an email, that the 30th anniversary of our divorce would be the 6th of December, 2012, and if it hadn't been for our going our separate ways, she would have never found Steve, and that they both "owed me one". Even though we had been apart for all those years, she was still, and will always be, a significant part of my life.

She was my friend and, for a time, my partner, as well as the mother of the most beautiful person I know, and in her own way, one of the most courageous, decent people I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

The world is a lot less today for her passing, and truly, I will miss her.

Thank you, God, for Robin; she was one of Your true servants. Thank you for her life, and my part in it.

"Jesus said to her, 'I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die'". John 11:25-26

Yours in Christ,

PJTT

copyright 2012 Krissongs, Inc.

Remember "Vygr" From The First Star Trek Movie? Yeah, That One

That's an 881-pound tuna that was caught recently by New Bedford, MA fisherman Carlos Rafael...with a net, which apparently is a no-no for catching large sea leviathans, according to Federal fishery enforcement agents. (The article that this picture appeared in didn't mention what agency of the Federal government "fishery enforcement agents" work for, but I'm thinking FBI or the CIA as most likely. "Fishery enforcement agents" sounds way too sinister for the Interior Department.)

Since tuna and, I imagine, other common sea creatures such as whales, sharks, squid, dolphins, Komodo dragons, sea lions, sea porcupines and Newt Gingrich, cannot be caught with a net, but rather a fisherperson must use "handgear", such as rods and reels or a harpoon, (shiver me timbers and Herman Melville), this catch was illegal and was seized by "Federal fishery enforcement agents" from Mr. Rafael.

Two things occur to me here: a) that must have been a hell of a big tin can that monstrous son-of-a-bitch came out of and b) the only "handgear" suitable for hauling something that large out of the ocean would be an AK-47. Or a synthesized, gamma ray-generating 56mm harmonizing laser cannon.

The AP article went on to say that the recent sale of a 754-pound tuna brought in $396,000 for the seller, so once again, we have an instance where our government, in the form of "Federal fishery enforcement agents", sticks it to a citizen.

Hey, fishery agent dudes, unless your "handgear" is the size of a telephone pole, it's not likely many almost 900-pound tuna fish are going to be caught. I mean, we're not talking blue whales or bottle-nose dolphins here, it's a tuna. (A big effing tuna.) The guy had a "tuna permit", gimme' a break, so he used a net, what was he supposed to do, arm-wrestle the damn thing into his boat?

Geez.

But that's not what I want to talk about today.

No, your Pope Guy here at the All John All The Time World Church had another topic in mind for today; I originally thought I would give all of you loyal followers of the AJATTWC the benefit of my wisdom regarding the proper way to clean a septic tank, but as Harley and I (you guys remember Harley, don't you? That's his pic to your right there, the one with the shit-eating grin on his face) were discussing the details of the essay here in my office, in runs the newest member of my staff, the Assistant Official Canine Of The Pope, Tucker Dog, tongue out, ears flopping and tail going 240.

"Whoa there, big guy, slow down," I said, as TD did a few laps around my desk in his excitement. As you can obviously see from his picture over there under the Harley Dog's, Tucker is still rather young and, as most puppies are, full of piss and vinegar. (And a shitload of Science Diet Puppy Food; Tuck hit 30 pounds before he was three months old.)

Harley looked on with disdain at the complete lack of decorum being shown by his new assistant, and said nothing, his displeasure obvious on his face.

The new AOCOTP here at the AJATTWC had this week's edition of Time magazine in his mouth, and when he finally stopped running, he sat down, scratched behind his left ear for a moment, and then dropped it on my desk, dog slobber and all.

"What?" I said. (As the English would say, ripping comeback, what?)

Tucker pawed the magazine open to a double-page showing an artist's rendition of a star-filled outer space scene, with a detailed drawing of a satellite in the upper right hand corner. The headline for the article read "Infinity And Beyond", and went on to tell the story of the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 spacecraft, both of which were launched from Cape Kennedy in 1977. And they're still going today.

What an amazing story.

(Remember the original Star Trek movie, Star Trek: The Motion Picture? Where "V'Ger" was a "mysterious and immensely powerful alien cloud", per the article on WikiPedia, and threatened Earth with destruction? And it turns out that "V'Ger" was merely one of the Voyager spacecraft, come home after acquiring vast powers during it's journey through the cosmos, to wreak havoc on it's makers? My grandsons better hope that doesn't happen in the future in real life; William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy are getting WAY too old and fat to come to the rescue of our sorry planet over and over again like they used to do.)

V1 is now, as of November 2011, right around 11 BILLION miles away from Earth, with V2 right on it's heels at slightly over 9 BILLION miles away. Radio communications with V1 now take 13.5 hours to reach the spacecraft, with a corresponding wait for an answer. The two satellites are still trucking along, apparently still working almost flawlessly, which is a stunning tribute to the design and construction of the vehicles by the all the hard-working, amazingly brilliant scientists and engineers at NASA.

I know NASA has fallen on hard times of late, but say what you want, what a record of accomplishment those people have. And don't think for a second that their work has had no effect on or dividends for all of us. Modern computers, as we know them today, are just one example of the benefit to Americans, and indeed all mankind, that we have realized because of our space program.

I won't give you all the story highlights, or the blow-by-blow account of the travels of two craft; check out the story online for all that.

http://www.time.com/time/video/player/0,32068,1292288635001_2100329,00.html

Now I don't know about you guys, but I find all matters space-related to be fascinating. One of my most fond desires in life is to someday fly in outer space; of course, I realize the unlikelihood of this ever happening, but I can dream.

I was enthralled, as a kid, by the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo space programs, and can still remember sitting in front of my older sister's TV in her Santa Monica apartment on July 20th, 1969, completely in awe, when Neil Armstrong hopped down from the ladder on the Lunar Excursion Module, and man first set foot on the surface of the moon. (True story; I am getting goose-bumps, literally, as I sit here writing this.)

V1 is now approaching the outer limits of our solar system, which is estimated by scientists to be about 12 BILLION miles from Earth.

Let me say that again: V1 is now approaching the outer limits of our solar system, which is estimated by scientists to be about 12 BILLION miles from Earth. Mankind is poised "to boldly go where no man has gone before", and that absolutely knocks me out.

Wow. Big time wow.

We haven't had an opportunity yet, Harley and I, to take Tucker out on the Royal Unionship Kidding, my atomic powered rocket ship, which we affectionately refer to as the RU Kidding, or just "the Kidding" for short; I can only imagine what that will be like for him his first time. We've been all over the galaxy, to planets near and far, spreading the "soothing balm of Johnism" to other races and peoples, but we've never even been close to the outer edge of the solar system. Who knows what awaits the Voyagers as they pass this milestone in space.

What wonders will they pass, what miracles of God's creation will they see?

We've been to the Moon, we're on our way to Mars again as we speak (if you missed it, NASA launched a rocket with the Mars explorer "Curiosity" on-board just last week), and now, as a race of beings, are poised on the edge of "the final frontier".

It seems so sad to consider what a lousy job we do of running our planet, even as we're on the cusp of one of the most remarkable achievements in the history of our race. But I won't proselytize; I'm too excited about the Voyagers to start complaining about what a bunch of dumbshits people can be, and how, when we listen and bring to bear the best parts of ourselves, what we can accomplish.

Man's reach should always exceed his grasp, and we're reaching for the stars.

I wonder if the planet Hyperion has any 900-pound tuna fish living in its oceans? Talk about strange creatures from alien civilizations.

And there's my ex-, creeping into the conversation, once again.

I thanked Tucker for bringing the article in Time to my attention, and then he and Harley headed for the kitchen; the outer reach of their solar system is the cupboard where I keep the Thin Mints cookies.

Love and space stations,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

The "NOBULLetin" For November 2011

"...she's my little deuce coupe, you don't know what I got...".

Great car, great song, lousy English and you want to know what I don't got? A cool ride like this...(large sigh of resignation here)...but I'll get over it.

You have to admit, though, it would be a really cool Popemobile.

Back to business: once a month, or every 6.23 weeks on the Julian calendar, the Bored Of Elders at the All John All The Time World Church directs their Pope, (that would be me), to publish a newsletter detailing for all our faithful followers, and for the non-faithful as well, the various and sundry happenings here at the AJATTWC, which we call the NOBULLetin.

And so, for the month of November, 2256, here is this month's NOBULLetin, being seen here today in it's entirety with no commercial interruptions.

*"Johner Of The Month" For November*

            The AJATTWC's coveted award, which each month recognizes a member of the Pope's flock for their commitment to the soothing balm of Johnism, (or one who has made a LARGE cash donation recently), is given this month to:

Eric Meinke of

Plainfield IL

Congratulations, Eric, and please keep up the good work (and thanks for the dough as well). As a further token of the Bored's esteem, a Xerox copy of a handsome commemorative plaque to memorialize this momentous event will be given to the lucky wiener, err, winner. Eric, with this award and about eight bucks, you can get that new Western Burrito BBQ Jalapeno Double Cheeseburger at any Texas Slim's Roadhouse Burgers and Firing Range. Great job, buddy, and keep up the good work. (And keep the checks coming too; thanks.)

(Hey, faithful followers, please pay attention; last month I wrote "p-l-a-G-u-e", which I guess would mean "a commemorative contagious disease that is deadly", and NOBODY noticed. As you can imagine, that was not the message I was attempting to convey. If attention lapses such as this occur again in the future, there will be sanctions.)

*Men's Club Outing Last Month*

            Our Men's Club President, Brother Gary Indiana, would like to report that, despite all the build-up in advance of their trip to Racing Rock Park, the actual visit to see the running of the Flintstone 500 (yards) was less exciting then anticipated. (Brother Alan Wrench said, "it sucked"; Brother Alan needs to learn to be more direct with his observations.) Brother Gary said that several Men's Club members attending the event seemed to think that, although it is unique in the annals of rock racing history, watching a rock move across the floor of the desert (considering they move so slow that the movement can't be seen with the naked eye, or even a semi-naked one), is something akin to watching traffic lights turn from red to yellow to green and back again, over and over.

            The group is discussing attending the next Republican Party Presidential Debate, but decided that one REALLY boring event was enough for a while.

http://www.bing.com/travel/content/search?q=Mysterious+Sights%3a+Racetrack+Playa%2c+California&FORM=TRSSPG 

*Woman's Club Bake Sale*

            There is currently no Woman's Club Bake Sale scheduled, according to Club President Virginia Ham; however, in the history of the AJATTWC and the NOBULLetin, there has never been an edition that did not contain a reference to a Woman's Club Bake Sale, and I didn't want to set an unfortunate precedent with this month's.

*All-Member Church Meeting*

            The Bored Of Elders of the AJATTWC has scheduled an All-Member's Church Meeting for next Thursday, Star Date 98.6, at 7:00AMPM, to discuss using outdoor advertising to promote the Church. Brother Gideon Bible, Head Elder, assisted by Brother Justin Case, Shoulder Elder, will give a brief Power Point presentation, which will be followed by an open-floor discussion of the topic. Brother Bible has stated that he hopes we're able to do a better job than the Atheists, who managed to attribute a quote (see above) to Thomas Jefferson that, apparently, Mr. Jefferson never uttered. (Good job, you heathen sluts.)

            Sister Georgia Peach is in charge of refreshments for this event; please contact her if you can bring a dish. (Or a plate.) (Or a rutabaga.)

*Lecture By Dr. O'Lading*

            Dr. Bill O'Lading, the distinguished Director of our Church-sponsored charity, the Home For The Chronically Bewildered, will give a lecture next Sunday, after services, in the Church Meeting Hall entitled "You Don't Have To Be A Moron To Be An Atheist, But it Helps". Dr. O'Lading's talk will focus on just how dumb you have to be to a) be an athiest and b) not check your facts before you put them on a 50 foot by 20 foot outdoor (is there such a thing as an "indoor"?) billboard.

            Please let Sister Robin Snest in the Church office know if you plan to attend, and hurry, because the seats are filling up fast. (And when was the last time your seat was full?)

*Teen Club Looking For Ideas*

            Sister Penny Lane, the Teen Club moderator and our welding (no, not "wedding") expert here at the AJATTWC, has made a request to all the Members for fund-raising ideas that the Teen Club can consider for next year. You will recall, this year's drive, the selling of raffle tickets to "Win An Evening With Elvis" was less than successful; our erstwhile Junior Members unfortunately didn't realize the King had passed on some years ago.

            So please, let's put our thinking caps on and give the kids some great ideas, preferably ones that don't involve dead entertainers.

*Prayer Requests*

            -Brother Glen Plaid asks that we remember his aunt, Sister Maureen Corps, who is having a watermelon-sized growth removed from your uvula next week;

            -Sister Rosemary Enthyme asks that we pray for her pet Komodo dragon, Fluffy, who is having a tail reduction after the holidays;

            -Brother Mac Encheese asks that we remember his half-brother, Mayor Mc, who recalls nothing.

*Please Patronize Our Sponsors*

Okay, here's the list of sponsors; do the Bored a favor and check these merchants out. They help fund the exorbitant salary, err, pittance that the Bored pays me twice a month.

-The Law Firm of Dewey, Cheatum and Howe, Attorneys At Law

"We're in it for the dough."

            www.MyLawyerCanWhipYourLawyer.com

-Sam's S&M Dungeon and Pizza Parlor

"Tie Me Up and Feed Me Pizza"

227 North Bondage Ave.

-L.A. Beautiful-"It's Time For Your Dream Body"

            Visit us at www.labeautiful.com

            All Types Of Plastic Surgery including:

            -breast augmentation

            -breast lifts

            -male breast ("moobs") reduction

            -hammer toe, (and "screwdriver ear")

            -facelift

            -tummy tuck

            -and many others

            Receive $1000 OFF any qualified procedure with this bulletin

            Free Limo Service with qualified procedures

(The above is an actual ad that appears periodically in the L.A. Times. Other than the "bulletin" part. You can check out the website if you don't believe me. Only in LA.)

Hey, Athiest Folks, listen up: Christopher Hitchens, a famous non-believer in God, once said, in dismissing belief in a Supreme Being, that "what can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence".

Hey Chris, take a look at that billboard some of your co-doofuses put up; right back at you, buddy.

...and blessed are the bewildered, not because they're cool or anything, but because they can use all the help they can get...

Solicitations: Apollo 13, Dodgers 5

Love and advertising,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

Okay, Who Had 72 Days In The Office Pool?

Is anyone surprised?

Does anyone really care?

Congratulations to Kris Humphrey on his "15 minutes"; nice job, big guy, to have the good sense to realize that you would never achieve that pinochle of success in the NBA, where no one is even sure for which team you sit the bench.

Kim, I understand that "W" magazine wants to do another "photo-shoot" of you, nude of course, since that really is your only claim to fame; they want to do a "before" and "after" comparison, to determine if being married for less than half of an NBA season effected any major physical changes to the bride. Given the typical brain activity of Ms. Kardashian, there are no plans to investigate whether there were any significant mental changes.

Ring...ring...ri

"PJTT...morning, Mike...I wrote what?...p-i-n-o-c-h-l-e...oh, PINNACLE, shit, I blew that one, didn't I?...yeah, it's too early to be writing about these two dolts, but I was up and the paper hasn't gotten here yet, so I thought, ehh, what the hell, tee up a few practice shots at Cagney and Lacey up there, you know, get the ol' juices flowing before breakfast...yeah, I'll go back and correct it, thanks...hey, spring-training is coming soon, let's start thinking about line-ups and pitching for next season...hey, you know the Methodists are already working out in their gym...yeah, okay, lemme' know...yeah, okay."

That was my consigliore, the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan (no, not the minor-league player for Birmingham a few years ago); he tells me I made a small error in the third paragraph above (see up).

Well, whether Kris Humphries will again ever reach the lofty heights of success he has realized by marrying Ms. Kim, or whether he even played his cards right (reports are that Kim, who despite Kris's most likely bloated NBA salary still makes a SHITLOAD more money than he does, has already nixed the idea of "spousal support"), we will probably never know.

And once again, Question A, who cares?

In other entertainment news, was that Justin Boober recently seen "out and about" at a local dance club with SecState HRC? Does Bill know?

Please see Question A above (see up again).

Love and TMZ,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

加倍努力，芝加哥熊 (That's Chinese For The Greatest Team Ever)

The time? The mid-60's.

The place? The suburbs of Chicago IL, better known as the home of the "Monsters Of The Midway", the Chicago Bears.

The scene? Jimmy "Mac" McMahon and William "the Fridge" Perry meet for the first time.

And the rest, as they say, is geography.

"加倍努力，芝加哥熊，做每戲劇扫清道路到勝利; 加倍努力，芝加哥熊，那么無所畏懼举起與威力的一次戰鬥。 We' ll從未忘記您興奮有您的T形成的國家的方式。 加倍努力，芝加哥為什麼負擔，並且告诉他們you' 再佩帶冠。 You' 關於伊利諾伊自豪感和喜悅，芝加哥熊，下來熊。"

Oh, that? That's the words to "Bear Down, Chicago Bears", the Bears' fight song, in Traditional Chinese, just in case you're ever in Beijing, watching the Bears kick the noodles outta' the Vikings.

Okay, you cry babies, never let it be said that your Pope didn't look after you; here it is in English as well.

"Bear down, Chicago Bears, make every play clear the way to victory;
Bear down, Chicago Bears, put up a fight with a might so fearlessly.
We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation with your T-formation.
Bear down, Chicago Bears, and let them know why you're wearing the crown.
You're the pride and joy of Illinois, Chicago Bears, bear down."

Fridge: "So, where we goin'?"

Jimmy Mac: "Goin' to see a friend of mine, lives over on the next block. His name is Walter."

Fridge: "Can he play ball?"

Jimmy Mac: "Yeah, a little."

1985. What a magical time in the Windy City.

Thanks again, guys.

Love and Mr. Halas,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.