Out Of This World Wednesdays

I am changing Who, what, where, when, why, how Wednesdays to something more dear to my heart...

Things out of this world, world, world, world, world!!!

WELCOME 

TO OUT OF THIS WORLD WEDNESDAYS!!!

Wednesdays will now be devoted to anything and everything UFO, alien space creatures, Girkazoid, time travel, earth invasion, science fiction, and all kinds of stuff like that, related!

The wacky rumor that I'm actually a creature from another world is utterly ridiculous!

Ha Ha Ha! What a blipbop, I mean laugh!

First of all, you need to learn about the amazing Glirkazoids:

THE GLIRKAZOIDS

Glrock Oglama looked out of his bedroom window and gazed at the blue mist, swirling gently above the Wide House lawn.

Wearing only his boxers with the cute pictures of baby gluppies, he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

His antennas or antenna; whatever, were still drooping a bit from last night’s victory party that concluded with a roll in the “gel” with Glichell.

He could hardly believe he had just been elected the 44,000th president of Glirka at the tender age of 2,222.

He mumbled to himself, “ What have I got my polka dot butt in to now?”

Glasha and Glalia were sleeping in the Glincoln bedroom while their gloggy,Glo, stood a sleepy guard at the door.

It was a tough campaign but victory over Glicane and Glalin was sweeter than “Glupelo Honey.”

Oglama continued his trance-like stare out of the window and pondered the great and illustrious history of Glirka.

The world domination, the untold wealth, cities made of gold and diamonds,and  technology out the “wazoo!”

Soooo, needless to say, his campaign was based on NO CHANGE, WHATSOEVER!

NO WAY! No HOW!

With the catchy, campaign slogan, “No We Can’t!”

( Cue, real dramatic music. Like, DUM DUM, DUUUUUUUM!)

Little did Glrock know that horrific changes were about to befall the entire planet of Glirka!

So devastating; Armageddon looks like a church picnic!

ONE YEAR LATER

Angry mobs of “gee-party” members surround the Wide House with torches and pitchforks, calling for the impeachment of Oglama and his entire administration!

Thousands of years of peace, prosperity and free health care has disappeared under the sophomoric “reign” of this moron.

(“I don’t make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts!” 

Will Rogers.)

Oglama was blamed for high taxes, wars, party crashers, the gwine flu, bailing out the glanks, playing too much gloff, “global cooling“, wanting the glikmo detainees to stay put, when everyone else wanted them to go on trial in New Glork, AND just being on glirkavision way too much!

Well, Oglama HATED criticism.

Sooooo, he decided the only way to end the unceasing clamor of the ignorant masses was to obliterate the whole dang planet!

When a few Glirkazoids got wind of his diabolical plan, they spread the word and about 600 billion inhabitants of Glirka decided to head for other worlds.

( You know. Like when Krypton exploded, but with more survivors than just “baby Superman.”)

Now, here is what the awesome, magnificent, spectacular, frightening scene will look like in the upcoming movie:

The misty blue planet of Glirka FLASHES on to the entire movie screen in the “blink of an eye!”

Next, we begin to see tiny, shiny specks, racing away from the doomed planet in every direction.

We soon discern that the specks are little spaceships of all different shapes, colors and diminutive sizes.

First there is one, then two, ten, twenty, one hundred, ten thousand; now, millions of “itty bitty” spaceships, “hightalin’” it away from Glirka! ( Man! We are gonna need a lot of “extras!”)

The whole population of Glirka, evacuating the planet; MARKED FOR DEATH! ( Hey, that last line wasn’t too bad, if I say so myself. And I DO, I DO say so myself!)

Suddenly the planet EXPLODES!

What a spectacular, poo-poo inducing spectacle, as this enormous planet becomes a burning ball of red, yellow and burnt orange fire, with long devilish flames reaching out to incinerate many of the Glirkazoid ships as they run for their little lives!

Hold on! 

I can’t do this.

I cannot destroy Glirka (Um,I mean, let Oglama destroy Glirka) without giving you a brief, mesmerizing, mind altering, virtual tour of the baby blue planet.

(CONTINUED NEXT WEDNESDAY)

 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

♫♪MADNESS MUSIC MONDAYS♪♪

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

I'm not really that old. I'm 62. 

I don't think that's old.

However, everybody seems to think I'm really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, 

really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, OLD!

They want to give me their seat if I'm standing up!

I don't want your cockadoody seat!

I'll stand here 'till hell freezes over if ya don't shut up...just out of spite!!

They ask me if I need help taking my groceries out to my car, the dumb bunnies!!

Don't they know I was the strongest kid in my high school!! 

The stupid groceries are in a cart anyway!! Why would I need help?! 

The dumb asses!!(Excuse my language)

The other day a checkout lady wanted to know if I needed help putting the groceries from my cart, on to the conveyor belt!!!

What's up wit dat?!

I must look as old as Methuselah!!

Also, I want to know why I keep getting ads in the mail from Hoveround, wheelchair companies, funeral homes, hearing aid businesses, and from all kinds of places that make old people stuff, when I don't need or want all of that old people crap!!

Man, I used to be in bands, wrote music, went to wild concerts, played football, baseball, wrestled, went through basic training in the army...and I am here to tell ya...

I Ain't Dead Yet!!!!

Country star, with a little rust,
Hillbilly billionaire, gone bust,
Lately it's a shame,
Old friends forget my name,
And wonder why I haven't "bit the dust."

But I ain't dead yet,
Don't put me six feet under,
I ain't dead yet,
I'll be back by thunder,
Scratch my obituary,
Don't need your cemetery,
I may be deep in debt,
But I ain't dead yet.

Living legend, losin' charm,
Where's the love that kept me warm,
Folks don't come around,
Say I'm goin' down,
And wonder why I haven't "bought the farm."

But I ain't dead yet,
So don't you start a diggin',
I ain't dead yet,
Next year will be a biggin',
Don't write my eulogy,
There's still some life in me,
My maker I ain't met,
 I ain't dead yet.

My poor life has gone downhill,
Even lost my Coupe Deville,
But I'm still alive,
Goin' to survive,
So don't you start in lookin' for my will.

Cause I ain't dead yet,
Don't send me cards and flowers,
I ain't dead yet,
These ain't my final hours,
Don't want a last confession,
Or funeral procession,
I'm bouncin' back you bet,
I ain't dead yet,

I may be deep in debt,

But I ain't dead yet.

My maker I ain't met,

I ain't dead yet.

I'm bouncin' back you bet,

I ain't dead yet.

ST. LOUIS SUNDAYS

YELLOW SLICKERS

Rain. 
Yes, that’s what it was. Wet, liquid, watery H20 from
the dark, gray, cumulonimbus clouds above.

God’s way of telling South St. Louis, hey, you are filthy!

Angel’s tears, falling on the heads of wretched, tormented
souls of south St. Louisians. Bathing the skyscrapers and
ghettos. The limousines and the V.W’s. The statue of ex—
Cardinal great, ”Stan the Man” and the ex-cons. Baptizing
the dust covered city with no hope of salvation for the
wicked town. 

Hydrating the dehydrated flora and fauna that
took it all for granted. Dripping on rose petals and running
down to the roots. 

Sprinkling turtle’s shells and running in to
silver ponds. 

Splashing on top of everything, and running,
running, running down to where gravity demanded. Fading and
blurring the print and pictures of old newspapers and
magazines left and forgotten in the city dump.

Refreshing, regenerating, life-giving rain. Penetrating
every crack and crevice. Giving a soggy eviction notice to the
ants, spiders and other bugs that lived like tiny apartment
dwellers under the streets and sidewalks.

Copious showers, drowning the woes, heartaches and
sorrows of the pathetic misfits of old decrepid, south St. Louis.
Rain, rain, go away? Is that the poem we want to say? O,
nay, nay I pray, that the virgin waters stay and stay, and
never flow away.

The Mississippi river drank like a sailor on leave, in Guam, on
a Saturday night, after eating two bowls of real salty pretzels.

As the deluge continued and the raindrops shimmered
on spider webs, and on illuminated windshields, and on
ancient Glirkazoid warship portholes, the young, innocent,
shrimp-like school children departed from their comfy
homes and sloshed on to the first day of school.

For little ole me, it was the first day of kindergarten.
(I actually thought this would be a flower garden where
everyone was kind.) (I was wrong.)

Mommy deserted me with no survival equipment!
My shoes were untied, my butt-hole itched, (that is the
supreme itch), my nose was bleeding from picking it.
(Remember the time when you were picking your nose in class,
and it started bleeding, and the teacher asked you what
happened, and you said, I don’t know, it just started bleeding
on it’s own.) Oh, yeah, right. You don’t remember. Right.

Anyway, to top it off; It was pouring down rain and we were
all standing in a huge building that had a shiny wooden floor.
Someone called it a “jim”. (I thought it looked more like a “Wilt”.)

But all of this was nothing. The very first and terrible
and awful thing was about to happen that would permanently
warp my sweet little unadulterated brain.

Picture this in your mind.

Every single child was wearing a perfect, little, bright,
yellow slicker with a hood, except for me.
I was wearing a brown, soaking wet, cloth jacket.

How did this happen? Did I somehow miss the great yellow
slicker giveaway? Was this a cruel joke concocted by someone in the administration to humiliate me before I had the opportunity to display my superior intelligence in front of my peers?

I don’t know. If I knew the answer, this hideous
nightmare wouldn’t still haunt me to this day.
So, please, shut up about it! It’s over. Please, leave me alone.
Let’s just yellow, I mean, mellow out. The slicker, I mean
the quicker we forget about it, we will feel hood, I mean,
good, about the whole thing.

SURREAL SATURDAYS SURREAL SATURDAYS SURREAL SATURDAYS SURREAL SATURDAYSDAYSsurreal saturdays

SURREAL SATsurreal saturdaysURDAYS DAYS SURREAL DAYSSATURDAYS surreal saturdayssurreal saturdays

Yeah, that Miracle Grow stuff REALLY works!

Why am I at this laundromat? Shhh! Don't tell anyone, but our "genius" designers forgot to include a washer and dryer on the "ship!"

Okay, like, Kris is the family matriarch. Her and her ex, Robert Kardashian, have daughters...Kourtney, Kim, and Khloe and a son Rob. Like, her and her current husband Bruce Jenner have daughters Kendall...

3 fish talking: Look, dudes, swine on a line! Yeah, pooled pork! I think it's more like, dope on a rope!

Those guys are just jealous because I have a chin.

What do you think of my new "tat?" I told the guy to keep it simple.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water!

I rolled a 7! What do I obliterate next?

Martian Moonshiners

I don't get it! He shot at me with that AK 47 over and over, and missed every time!

Hey, Alien dude, You're starting to drip acid on the chessboard, man!

As we gaze upon this earth we have conquered, wouldn't it be cool to get some new duds!

Next stop, Rodeo Drive, to get some new duds!  These cloaks make me itch!!

Cloaked creatures think they can take my duds, huh?! Take THAT, you filthy beasts!

Ha Ha! No it's just a weather balloon, son!

Hi, mom! Living on this planet is really not much different than living in our trailer park.

Welcome! Welcome, to Fantasy Planet! Stop saying, "the saucer, the saucer," tattoo!!

New Nazca lines found! Discovered by creator of photoshop!

Man, it's cold here on earth! Yeah, especially being naked! We need to get some warm duds!