Where The Hell Is Miss Manners When We Need Her?

The world really is going to hell in a soup tureen. Yep, you heard me. According to a recent survey (hey, I don't make these thing up) good table manners have become a thing of the past. Horror of hors d-oeuvres, can you imagine? Personally, I think Colonel Sanders and his finger lickin' good chicken is to blame for the downfall of civil mastication. On the upside he saved us all from washing the utensils over and over again. But I digress.

A study of British diners by Bisto found that a quarter of people surveyed believe table manners are not important. Oh, British dinners. Have you seen the food they eat? When you subsist on a diet of bangers and mash that could help explain things.

Listen to this. 44% of those polled say they start their food before others arrive at the table. Another 38% regularly answer phone calls while they are eating. Why? Don't they know it's just a telemarketer at the other end of the line? This number does not include my wife who would be among the per cent of people who read e-mails on their blackberries during a meal. What? I'm not entertaining enough? I digress again.

33% admitted to not thinking twice about stealing food off other people's plates.

Here's a few things that weren't included in the survey - some food faux pas as it were - although they've been known to happen in my house, and I'd be curious to know how prevalent these activities are.

Loading up with salt and pepper without tasting your meal.

The old border-house reach as opposed to "Could you please pass the brussel sprouts."

Lifting the soup bowl to one's lips to sip the last drop of pottage.

Licking of the dinner plate.

Putting your plate on the floor so the family dog can clean up your leftovers.

Scraping the vegetables you don't like onto your spouse's plate when they're not looking.

Eating ribs, drumsticks or refried beans with your fingers.

Loud, satisfied passings of air out of any number of orifices without so much as an "Oops, excuse me" or "Ah, now that was good, dear."

I confess except for feeding food to the dog, as we don't have one, I have at one time or another (hey not at the same meal, what do you think I am?) undertaken all of these.

Miss Manners would roll over in her grave...if she were dead. And if she's not, she wouldn't last long at my house.

Pause Ponder and Pun #73

Here he is.

Reporting for duty.

Ready to serve in the gallant cause as your subject for this week's Pause Ponder and Pun.

Attention!

We'll fight back our urge to laugh until we engage the winners, Saturday.

As you were.

...And They're Off

On the weekend they called an election in Canada.

*sighs*

You know we're kinda screwed up in this country when it comes to federal politics. For example, the longest serving federal leader is Bloc Quebecois leader Gilles Duceppe, a dyed-in-the-wool separatist bent on sovereignty for Quebec while at the same time having no qualms about collecting a federal salary for the last 21 years.

Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff returned from years in exile in Great Britain and the States where he was an academic and journalist to run for the Liberal leadership. In their million dollar pre-election attack ads, the Conservatives sum up his sense of purpose with the line "Ignatieff. he didn't come back for you".

And poor New Democrat Party leader Jack Layton has just had hip surgery. We're waiting for the first campaign reference from one of his opponents that he doesn't have a leg to stand on.

I know I'm going out on a limb here (no pun intended, Jack) writing about politics on a humour blog but here in the Great White North when all is said and done there's nothing else to do but laugh. If the media and the politicians are to be believed our nation is populated by a majority of bald people, having pulled their hair out over an election that we're told nobody wants.

Pollster Daryll Bricker of Ipsos Reid went so far as to refer to this as a Seinfeld election, to wit: an election about nothing.

Our nation normally goes to the polls between every four and five years. However, in recent years we can't seem to get past electing minority governments so this will be the fourth trip to the ballot box in the last seven years. Canadians used to complain about the weather and public transportation. We can now add elections to that list.

But here's where I differ from my toque-tipping fellow Canucks. I want an election. Bring it on I say. I'm sick and tired of a government that undertakes questionable actions I never supported. And it's taken to calling itself the Harper Government, not the Government of Canada. Hey, I want a government that represents me and my fellow Canadians, not just the interests of the Prime Minister. What's next? Do they rename Parliament Hill Harper Hill. Change Oh, Canada to Harperland, We Stand On Guard For Thee?

And, of late, this government been embroiled in one scandal after another including one involving the illegal lobbying activities of a former Prime Ministerial advisor and his forty year younger former call girl fiance. Hell, who knew Canadian politics was such a hot bed of sex and intrigue. Who knew it was a hot bed, period.

The minority government was defeated last week following the introduction of it's latest budget. But the budget wasn't the cause of their defeat. Before Parliament moved on a money vote it first dealt with an Opposition motion that the Government was in contempt of Parliament. The motion passed - the first time a sitting government has ever been found to be in contempt of Parliament.

And throughout all this, and what I'm most exasperated by, is a party hanging on to power through the threat of that great bogeyman: a "coalition". The existing minority government would have Canadians believe that the alternative to them would be an evil coalition government of the remaining parties.

Uh-huh. Seems to have worked out alright for Australia and Great Britain. And what did George Bush call his anti-Saddam friends? A coalition of the willing. Okay, well two out of three ain't bad.

So let's see where we stand.

Politicians and media say this is an election nobody wants.

Pollsters say the election will be about nothing.

The sitting government is being sucked into numerous scandals faster than Br'er Rabbit by Tar Baby.

The government says the alternative is that nasty coalition.

But the issue of a coalition is a deflection, a political jab in the ongoing thrusts and parries of political gamesmanship, a red herring.

And the sooner Canadians realize this and cool to this rhetoric the sooner we'll have a coalition of the chilling and be able to concentrate on the real issues.

I hope.

If not, we can always have an election on the leaders' sartorial choices.

Anti-coalition cowboy Harper.

Ignatieff, he got dressed up for you.

Duceppe prepared for anti-separation fallout.

New Democrat leader Layton to change name of party to New Bandana Cats.

Sunday Funnies

Pause Ponder and Poopy Head Parade

I'm surprised no one came up with "poopy head" for our picture this week, except me. Shows you where my head's at. (ha, ha, pun intended) Well let's tap into some of this week's craptions, erm, um, captions.

Boom Boom let one drop with:

Ms. Paladin's motto:

Have Bathroom - Will Travel

laughingmom gave us a little tinkle with:

port-a-potty

00dozo must have been mighty flushed after coming up with this:

Really bad television crossovers: America's Next Top Model contestants host an episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

But it was the blogless Raymond who demonstrated himself to be a man after my own pun with:

I heard this year's Easter Parade has been moved to Flushing Meadows.

Way to go Raymond. You be hanging' with dufus. Congratulations on that ripping caption! I think you've managed to clear the air this week with that one.

Thanks to everyone who participated. Looking forward to next week's exercise.

But wait.

And this week we institute a new prize for the best comment about today's comments on this week's captions. You still with me? It goes to 00dozo for:

Congrats Raymond. Everybody Loves Raymond, heh, heh.

For her efforts 00dozo wins the Golden Clothespin award! Well why not. After I told her she won the comment about comments award in a pinch (pun intended) she came up with the name. So double zero dozo here's to you...

A few more of these and 00dozo'll be hangin' with dufus too. I'll have to make some room up there on that clothesline I hang out on.

Is There A Spring In My Step?

So did you notice? What you didn't see it? Feel it? Oh man, I did. I've been waiting three months for it. After all that time of waking up and going to bed in the dark. Of shovelling snow, bundling up, wearing a toque (I'm Canadian, eh), boots and gloves. It's about time things changed around here. I'm talking about Spring, y'all. Yeah, it arrived Sunday - 7:21pm eastern daylight time. But who's counting?

You may not know this but there's a considerable family tree associated with Spring. It all started when Sappy Spring married Pulla Forward and they had two children Fall and Back. They've all since been immortalized in that phrase down through the years "Spring Forward, Fall Back".

And their children's children, and their children's children, were quite the inventive family. First there was Samuel "Coil" Spring. What did he do? Well, hey, how would we sleep soundly or make bouncy-bouncy without bed springs?

Sam's brother, Stem, handily competed with his sibling with his own invention. Like, we couldn't tell time without watch springs.

Sister, Irish, cleaned up in the personal hygiene field.

Cousin Wolfgang, a musician, was only two-steps behind. And who can sit still during a Spring Waltz, huh?

And of course Wolfgang's son, Bruce, a mere adolescent and born in the USA, became well known as Spring's teen.

Bruce's brother Slinky bounced around in the toy industry for a few years, amassing a small fortune after turning a spring, a spring into a marvellous thing. Calling himself Richard James, he tried to disassociate himself from his famous family, seeing if he could make a name for himself. But, despite his best efforts, everyone knew it was Slinky.

Of course, the achievements of the Spring family can likely be traced all the way back to Sappy's mother, Birdie, who made a name for herself as a turkey farmer. People who admired Birdie often said she was no spring chicken.

And Birdie's husband "Jumpy" was famous in his own right after he invented the diving board. That's right, I guess you could say Jumpy was the spring board for the rest of his family's spring fever.

This post first appeared at The Parody Files. Then it rebounded over here.

Pause Ponder and Pun #72

It's not everyone that can carry off wearing a small bathroom on their head.

I think this fashion faux pas tanks.

How about you?

We'll flush out a winner Saturday.

I Don't Give A Damn!

So according to something I read on the internet - thus it must be true - "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" has been voted as the greatest line of dialogue ever uttered in a movie. The movie of course is Gone With The Wind, a classic from 1939. Yeah, a movie from more than 70 years ago.

It beat out such immortal utterances as "May the force be with you", "I'll be back", "You can't handle the truth", "You talkin' to me?" and "Mama always said life is like a box of chocolates".

I'd like to know just who the hell voted on this survey - incontinent senile members of AARP? I mean there's lots of movies out there with some really great lines.

Take for example the memorable dialogue from Caddyshack:

A flute with no holes is not a flute. And a doughnut with no hole is a Danish.

And what about this exchange from Airplane:

There's been a little problem in the cockpit, and I was...

The cockpit - what is it?

It's the little room at the front of the plane where the pilot sits,

but that's not important right now.

Or this great line from Blazing Saddles...

Excuse me while I whip this out.

Or another statement of equal gravitas from the same film:

Gentlemen, please. Rest your sphincters.

One of my all time favourites comes from Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb:

Gentlemen you can't fight in here. This is the War Room.

And who will ever forget the brilliant economy of words exhibited in that immortal classic Wayne's World:

Shwing!

From Monty Python and the Holy Grail comes the memorable line:

Just a flesh wound.

Not to mention my very favourite:

I fart in your general direction.

They just don't write great dialogue like this anymore!

So, in conclusion, when I think of which line won out in this little cinematic survey, I'm moved to quote the character Howard Beale in the movie Network:

I want you to get up right now, and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out and yell: "I'm mad as Hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!"

Sunday Funnies

Pause Ponder and Pamper-Clad Pugilists

Wow, I'm impressed. Who knew it only took a couple of bruised and battered babies to bring out the best in people! Ahem, maybe I should rephrase that.

This was a banner week for PPP both in the quantity and quality of captions. You folks floated like a butterfly and punned like Ali.

For instance Boom Boom, who knows a little bit about my family, threw a left hook with:

Whitey vs. Killer?

Whitey! Winning!

Quirkyloon weighed in with:

Charlie and Emilio show off their winning ways.

Chris@Knucklehead got ready to rumble with:

Llllllllet's get ready to ... WAAAAAAH!!!!

00dozo threw this jab:

After enticing Curly to punch himself bare fisted in the eye, Moe has an epiphany for a future vaudeville routine.

But I thought Jamie scored a knock-out with:

Nobody, and I mean NOBODY touches my sippy cup!!

Who-hoo Jamie. You be hangin' with the dufus this week. Way to go, guy. Congratulations. Feel free to grab that dufus pic up there to display on your blog, man.

And to everyone else, thanks for playing along. Now click on the links and visit each other. Keep your hands up. Don't let down your guard. But feel free to leave a little jab here and there.

Now go back to your corners and come out commenting!

Leprechauns: Little Losers

Faith and begorrah it's bloody Saint Paddy's day! And not unlike St.Patrick driving the snakes from Ireland - after which many of them settled in New York City and Boston and became politicians, I understand - Humor Bloggers Dot Com is driving all you little people to its St. Paddy's Day Humor Carnival.

Although I hail from strong Irish stock on both my mother's and father's side of our family, I sometimes wonder about the Irish. Like, why are they always eating stew, drinking green beer and marching in parades? I mean, what's up with that?

And their folklore! Leprechauns! Hah, they couldn't come up with a better mythological character than one most folks look down on? Well, they have to, don't they. They're only two and-a-half feet tall.

Little old men dressed in green who spend all their time making shoes, playing tricks, prancing through the forest and counting their money in pots of gold at the end of some rainbow.

C'mon. Is that a manly cultural icon? Even their soap is more manly. Yes, and women like it too.

And they drink copious amounts of something that looks and tastes like 10W30 motor oil called Guinness. No wonder they're little. They've stunted their growth. This of course diminishes, among other things, their job opportunities. I mean who's going to employ some little drunk? What are they good for? They just don't measure up.

And of course if Leprechauns drink too much Guinness they more often than not become Lepre-cants. In such cases they've been known to come up a little short. Their women folk have come to call it the Leprechaun Limp.

Some have found fame in the movies but usually just in shorts. Others have been lucky to step up into larger but nevertheless limited roles such as members of The Lollipop Guild or as Oompa Loompas.

The odd leprechaun - and some of the even ones - has found happiness as sports team mascots but they tire quickly running up and down the sidelines on their tiny little legs.

Then, of course, there's the most famous among them who runs around saying "They're magically delicious"!

Personally, I wouldn't know.

I've never eaten one.

Pause Ponder and Pun #71

Do your thing, folks.

We'll see who cleans up Saturday.

Hypnagogia Horrors

I don't know if you've ever experienced this. I have. And it's scarier than any nightmare I've ever had. Although I should qualify that by saying I rarely remember what I dream about.

But I'm not talking about dreams here. I'm talking about what occurs sometimes before I dream. You know, in that period of time between being awake and drifting off to la-la land.

I had to look it up on Wikipedia and the term for that transitional period is hypnagogia.

Some nights I think I'm channeling Stephen King, Dean Koontz and H.P. Lovecraft all rolled into one. As I start to drift off my mind races, going off in several different directions, kind of like twilight ADD, trying to process the scariest of thoughts. I certainly wouldn't come up with them during the day time, nor likely dream about them in my deepest slumbers.

But they come to me in that transitional time between wakefulness and sleep. Involuntarily.

Like, oh, I don't know, sticking a pencil in my eyeball. Gory car, plane, train crashes involving loved ones. Leaping to my death off a bridge or tall building. A visit to an alien spaceship - probing optional. Murder and mayhem. Spontaneous combustion. The earth exploding and other similar apocalyptic cataclysms haunt me. And of course, the more bizarre and horrifying they are the more I have and the harder it is to sleep. Some nights this "transitional" period will go on for hours.

But what causes them? Restless Leg Syndrome? Inane Facebook comments? Indigestion? A late evening piece of chocolate cake? Too much caffeine? The late night news?

Well, let's see what I'm influenced by during my waking hours.

Ah, a huge earthquake and many after shocks rocked Japan and blew up a nuclear plant.

Um, Lindsay Lohan could be going to jail.

Uh, Mike Huckabee crapped all over Natalie Portman and her unmarried approach to parenthood.

Oh, the Warlocks and tigers and Adonises, oh my, are pissed at Charlie Sheen. Nevertheless the guy's mounted something called "My Violent Torpedo of Truth/Defeat Is Not An Option Tour" and it sold out in 18 minutes!

Mel Gibson pled no contest to beating the crap out of his ex-wife and skipped jail time.

Well, well. Monica Lewinsky still loves Bill.

That guy's still hangin' on to power in Libya and nobody seems to know yet how to properly spell his name.

And the National Hockey League seems to have become the medical clearing house for the largest supply of organ donations from former players for brain research.

Wow.

I thought the stuff I dreamed up was bad.

It's no wonder I can't sleep at night.

Sunday Funnies