SuperDawg Hot Dogs get their day on the TV (for better or worse) Obama loves ’em!

Maurie, Flaurie Berman! (the hot dogs who wear caveman clothes and want you to eat them) @Superdawg a Piece of Classic Chicago myfoxchicago.com/dpp/good_day/s… They were on the TV in Chicago Monday Morning. FYI, it’s the french fries that should have the last word, they are the real deal.

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The ping pong ball

California afternoon_photo by Wendy Jo carlton It was the dream the old man had before. The one with the river and the floating that felt so damn good. Beneath his body was a rubber inner tube and his arms and legs hung lazily over the sides of it. On the side of the tube was a cartoon of a smiling big-headed rat twirling a lasso. “The rat must be my guardian angel”, the old man thought. “Could be worse”. Then below his wet backside, in the clear cool water, he spotted, only for a second, amongst the river rocks and fallen branches, a white rosary swaying with the current.

The old man grew up Catholic, and even though he hadn’t stepped inside any kind of church for 50 years, the rosary still snagged him as something precious. It needed a pair of hands. He tried to stand up but his feet couldn’t touch the bottom, and the river was moving too fast for him to swim against backwards. He held his breath deep and stuck his head under the water to get one last blink at it, glowing and yessing at him like a blessed hula. But then the river curved around a bloated bluff of Willow trees, and beyond them was a parking lot full of cars.

The old man climbed up the river bank behind the VFW Hall and tied his raft to the bumper of a white limo. He saw his reflection in the windows, soaking wet and older than he felt, but still with a full head of dark hair to brush back. By the time he crossed the hot parking lot, the steam coming off of him made him look freshly pressed. He felt that the ping pong ball was somewhere inside the building. He could smell hot dogs and buttered popcorn and knew what was going on in there. Bingo. Even though he only loved the Mother Mary part of Catholic, the forgiving, blue-green part of it, he remembered what the nuns had taught him, about the mystery of numbers.

The old man entered the hall. Even with the ceiling clumped full of air conditioners blasting full force, the thickness of the cigarette smoke nearly gagged him. He coughed until his eyes teared up, so when the jittery skittery ping pong ball rolled right in front of him, it looked like he was crying with joy. The players did not look up from their cards because this was the the final game, the jackpot. But the caller did glance over, just in time to see him place the ball in his mouth and sprint out. The old man worked in the Senior Center for going on 6 years. He hadn’t lost a ping pong ball yet. He was happy there was something he was good at. And each time that beautiful, half-blind Sandra Kolenda flicked one out the window, it was another chance to show off his fantastic way with recovery.

Colonial clock

When the water pipes started to freeze no one was the wiser. It started first down by the potato bin, where all eyes were on the achy shaping of liquid into solid, which turned the outside of the pipe from dirty metal to blue to blue grey, until it looked like the dusty uniform of a captured Union soldier in the Civil War. They had left their house in such a hurry, no one thought to leave a faucet on slow drip. No one knew that winter would come so early or that they would be stranded in Barbados for weeks. By the time they returned, the goldenrod ranch house they had inherited, with Aunt Pat’s colonial clock above the stove coated with hamburger grease like it had been for sixty years, was nothing but a mouth-watering fantastic candy-coated slick-sharded sinking sugarpop write-off…Superman in quicksand.quicksand

The Moses frequency

heston Juicy Planet has been receiving slippery but persistent messages from UHF channel 52 on our black & white Panasonic TV, of various clips of Charlton Heston near naked on the beach from the film, The Planet of the Apes. But as it turns out, this scene cannot be found in the actual Hollywood movie! It seemed at first to be Heston in between takes while filming the movie in 1968, but it has now been confirmed that what we are watching is an actual live feed of Heston, enjoying the pretty beach with his empty machine gun.

The original story of human hubris was written by French author Pierre Boulle, in 1963. The Statue of Liberty, which can be seen toppled and eroding in the background in some future, was a gift to the United States from the people of France. In the hope of minimizing the kind of dang regret depicted, Juicy Planet is actively trying to decipher the meaning of these recurring beachfront broadcasts, before the U.S. government strips the juicy public atmosphere of free analog television transmissions and sells the airwaves to corporate bidders on February 17, 2009.planetapes5

Ever the liberator on Earth, whether as Moses, Ben Hur, or Chairman of the National Rifle Association, Heston appears in the transmissions to be the one in need of saving, not from slavery and human greed but from loneliness. We shall watch and wait with our hands raised to see if perhaps the kiss of Zira or some other lovely sane and peaceful creature will make any difference for our protagonist.

Vienna at Christmas time

Inverted Stepford Wife-ism taking toll on Golden Rule

Cindy telepathically noisy

  Juicy Planet has been put on ORANGE ALERT due to the curious socio-medical condition whose origin has been traced to the DNA of females born and raised into the American upper middle, lower upper, and middle flyweight classes. The disease, popularly known as the Inverted Stepford, seems to take hold in female subjects in early adulthood, when being privileged and rich sours a tad due to the double pressures of having to be successful at some high level of some kind of field while simultaneously expected to act as a subservient to all the males in her environment, at least in public, regardless of how much more intelligent, talented, or confident the female may be when compared to the male she is seen stiffly standing next to.

Cindy McCain rolls with changes

The original Stepford Wife virus was actually developed and perfected by garden variety sexist males who sought to maintain complete control over their wives, to the point of altering their wives ability to remember how lovely flip flops felt beneath their wet feet, let alone what personality they may have had before being infected.

Inverted Stepford differs from the original strain in that these females seem to enjoy living with the virus; looking, standing and speaking as if they believe the rhetoric of their unattractive right wing spouses, understanding the exquisite pleasure of deferred power, when the cameras are turned off and they can abuse the maid, the dog, the flight attendant, behind closed doors. Many of these subjects seem to share a penchant for prescription drugs, so it is advised to clean out your medicine cabinet before invited one over for tea. The risk of contagious infection is low, although these females do tend to cause an awful lot of damage at the political and cultural levels of society, likely as they are to sit on various and sundry corporate and hospital boards and to be married to politicians, ministers, and Republicans. See entries for: Cindy McCain, Victoria Osteen, et al.

Vicky Osteen smelling fre$h bread

Vicky Osteen semi-pro glarer

 

 

 

 

 

CLICK for evidence of Inverted-Stepford-Illness

Flaming Finger will not be put out, even with beer

guy named charlie tempted by flame

moth guy drawn to wicked flame

Sometime in the near past, Juicy Planet was swooped up by an un-forecast-able Midwest tornado, and was sleepily set down again in the middle of an electrocutionist’s drunken indoor carnival, except without the good food (see below). In the center quadrant, near tingling seductive games of chance that involved fake gold medallions and giant watches, which forced us to rediscover the power of generosity and friendliness, there was a tornado within the tornado around a peculiar game called Flaming Finger. It pulled on us like we were a tiny cardboard skiff inside the Bermuda Triangle. Hundreds of sleepwalkers gathered just to be near it, but the moth we’ll call “Charlie” refused to give anyone else a turn on it, madly in love was he with the after effects of the magical but deadly tracing game. Hours later, we woke up headed north on the #36 bus, completely rewired and calm, grateful for the Morse code message of Tesla’s fluorescent lighting overhead.

thirsty lady fears flame may demand sacrifice

thirsty lady fears flame may demand sacrifice

CLICK for “Who was Nikola Tesla?”