Woe there Apple iMac; you printed gobbledygook instead of definitive words!

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Cialis, Viagra and Levitra

When I was in high school back in Coshocton, Ohio, we men would stand in front of McCluggage's Malt Shop and watch the girls go by. Mostly it was during summertime, we wore shorts and always carried a condom in our shirt pocket. That was a badge of courage. Also, in case one of us got lucky. In those days, the 40's, we didn't have the penis enhancing drugs that advertise on TV 24/7. There were two "loose" girls in our senior class. Maisie Lemon always traveled with the band on our bus for out-of-town football games. She worked the aisle giving blow or hand jobs. I always pretended to sleep. I can still see Maisie walking down Main Street, pregnant, with a huge belly that looked like she would going to give birth to a Great Dane. No word who the father was. We didn't have DNA then. But everytime a baby was born in Coshocton, somebody left town. That's also why the population remained the same for half-a-century. The other loose lady was Anita Coen. She had watermelon breasts and a loose bra. Every step swung a melon and one time at Lake Park....our swimming venue...one of the guys had drilled two holes in the wall of the boys' locker room so we could peek into the girls' locker room. We took turns and bully Dave Brown clocked each of us for five minutes at the holes. When I had my turn one July afternoon, I lucked into seeing Anita Coen's breasts. Wow! Humdinger! Well kiss my ass! Her knockers were beyond HUGE. They were bombastic! Out of sight! Unbelievable! I wanted to break through that flimsy wall and drill her with my medium sized pecker. It was hard as a rock. Oh, those were the days. Fond memories. Getting back to Cialis, Viagra and Levitra. Their commercials warn us limpers not to be erect more than 4 hours. Then, if so, call our doctor immediately. Because he would know what to do. But he's on the golf course or on the phone with his stockbroker.I know what to do. I'm going to call three more girls and have a ball. That's what I'm going to do! While I'm waiting for the three pussies to arrive, the TV commercial warns me not to operate any heavy machinery or drive a car. Don't want to get stuck in the steering wheel. And there are a lot of other things I shouldn't do while erect that I've forgotten. So, onward and upward.And good luck to all the studs out there.

Don't you hate CAPTCHA?

I think CAPTCHA should be changed to GOTCHA. I once tried to complete a survey and I couldn't enter the "random contest to win $5,000" until I entered the CAPTCHA letters, nmbers and other gibberish that defied imagination. Because I had to prove I wasn't a ROBOT! Well, readers, I kept failing to read what Edward Snowden must have created for the company. Yes, I tried hard. Although, being a C+ student in high school and college didn't help a bit. There were letters with a common horizontal bar, numbers that melted away, sufficiently so you could only guess. Really. After 32 tries with that many different CAPTCHA displays. And to add insult to injury, I was asked to TRY AGAIN. Well, I did. Again, again and again, etc. No prize money for me. And probably everybody else! This CAPTCHA beast has got to go. We're not morons. We're dedicated and impatient. Here's another bummer with the computer. When I buy a book or CD from amazon.com or eBay. Their ROBOTS follow me home. Yes, their preditors are on my page within seconds after I've made my purchase and checked out. They flash a bunch of books and CDs I might want to buy also. I don't want to buy anything else. So I delete their "seduction pitch" and forget them immediately. But wait. They didn't forget me! Even when I'm seeking information via GOOGLE an ad will pop down or up showing my recent book and CD purchases, along with the same books and CDs they pitched a week earlier! How brash and reprehensible. I urge all sensitive people to boycott the ads' products that continue to stalk you and make pitches for things you are not interested in. That includes hundreds of thousands of companies now employing "dirty tricks." My final rant for today concerns all the bids I receive to leave my TV service, telephone and computer bundle. COMCAST offers an attractive price for their bundle; so does TIME-WARNER, and even COX TV. But there is one great big problem: THEY DO NOT PROVIDE SERVICE IN OUR LOCATION! So, we're stuck with CHARTER COMMUNICATIONS and have been for the past 4 years. Their bundle price starts out around $90 a month and then gradually creeps up to double that in about a year. That's what we're paying now. Did I hear someone call them creeps? -

BLACK-ISH VS JEW-ISH............NEW TV SHOWS IN 2014

Racism is still an ugly word. Nevertheless, "muck is money" and that's where the "Suits'" minds run rampant. The BLACK-ISH series is being billboarded by its TV host, NBC, as another "Cosby type show."Venerable Bill" probably doesn't think kindly of having his valuable reruns pissed on by a newcomer without credentials. And he'll be crying all the way to the bank. The new entry, JEW-ISH, is only in submission, that is, on paper to be developed into a pilot. The series is based on a former best-selling book by Mrs. Yetta Bronstein, "The President I Almost Was," an autobiography by a Jewish mother from the Bronx who ran for President in 1964, against Barry Goldwater and Lyndon Johnson. She lost the election by a landslide, but captured more write-in votes than Johnny Carson, Betty Boop and Porky the Pig. Yetta's book was a best-seller in England and the British book critic, Cassandra, said 'it's the best American satire on politics since Sinclair Lewis' "Babbitt." In the USA Mrs. Bronstein's book, first published in hardcover by HAWTHORN BOOKS, was sold to AVON BOOKS for a paperback edition at the highest price ever paid back in 1965. She also recorded "I Want To Hold Your Hand"that was selected by Sir Paul McCartney as "best cover song" for a Beatles album of their greatest hits. Not bad for a former Presidential loser. "JEW-ISH," the TV series has a story line that features her husband Morris, teen-age son Marvin and her older sister Sadie (think Bea Arthur) who live in the same Bronx apartment and are constantly at odds with one another. Morris drives a taxi on the all-night shift; Marvin plays the drums loudly; and Sadie still smokes her uncle's pipe. He, Uncle Milton, was in ladies underwear (both senses of the word) and committed suicide after going bankrupt during the great 1929 depression. The first time he tried to die, the car in his garage, with the hose attached to the tailpipe, ran out of gas. The second time, the #104 bus stopped just in time as he lay in the street. The third time was successful after he suffocated between the breasts of a former female employee. She measured 26-42-38. Mrs. Bronstein is the titular head of this dysfunctional family (think The Friedmans), but has a contagious, sometimes wicked, sense of humor. She also offends everyone. For example, her first words entering the butcher shop are: "Take your fucking foot off the goddam scale!" And she always answers the phone, "I am the lady of the house. Why are you bothering me?" (Think "Keeping Up Appearances"). The angst in this family of four is a rampage of rhetoric out of control. It's hilarious, sad and sometimes admirable. Viewers will be mesmerized from week to week. So far, the only mild interest in sponsorship has come from Pfizer's Viagra division. So, don't hold your breathe, but stay tuned anyhow.

Red Channels is alive and kicking (a/k/a Blacklisting)

Yes, there are closed doors at the networks. During the 50's Senator Joe McCarthy was the primary "tool" seeking Communists within the entertainment industry and his polished paw on a name would prevent him or her from working. So, writers, directors, authors, composers (including Leonard Bernstein) were on the list of 150 outlawed by the networks and studios. Many individuals sued, to no avail. However, the Supreme Court finally got involved and struck down any further discrimination. But that took 10 years. My friend Martin Ritt ("Hud") was denied movie work because he once wrote an article in an alleged Communist influenced newspaper. Marty was sacked immediately but eventually came back to life with his close friend Paul Newman and others. Martin Ritt optioned my book, "The Great American Hoax," recounting my 4 years promoting a fictitious campaign to clothe all naked animals for the sake of decency, called SINA. Paramount was to finance the movie, Ira Wallach("Absence of a Cello?) wrote the script, Carl Reiner wss to direct and Jack Lemmon would be the star. But it all fell apart, unfortunately, as do many Hollywood projects, because the principal people have other films they committed to make. Mike Wallace wanted to interview me on his CBS show and called to request four copies of "The Great American Hoax." I was happy to comply and made the delivery myself. However, when Wallace read that his pal Walter Cronkite had been duped by SINA and featured its President, G. Clifford Prout (a/k/a Buck Henry), he immediately cancelled my interview. I then asked for the books back; he secretary said he had donated them to the Old Home for Seamen's Library. I check with them; the director had no record of my books being donated to the library. CBS received a bill from me for $25 to pay for the books. They sent a check and put me on their blacklist. Boo hoo. Ditto for NBC when I orchestrated a fainting spell for audience members during the first Phil Donahue Show broadcast from New York City, after 18 years in Chicago. The fainters were my "Merry Pranksters" and they dropped everytime Donahue held out the mike for a question. The subject was "gay senior citizens," eight people in their 80's who came out of the closet and agreed to go public. This historic fainting scenario made headlines in the news when Donahue dismissed the 400 people in his audience and he was obviously out of control on the news shows that evening. When he found out about the hoax he kicked the furniture in his office, that is until his ratings zoomed upward. Then I received a kind of "thank you" note from him. Hmmmmmmmmm. But four NBC lawyers held a two-hour interrogation session with me and finally gave up. They suspected something sinister behind my mission, other than just one more in a long list of media provocation I had performed over the years. So I remain on the NBC blacklist. HBO has me on their blacklist after I duped them in 2000 as a participant on "Private Dicks...Men Exposed." They bought my tale about having the smallest penis in the Guinness Book of Records. I claimed to be only 1 inch tall when erect. I didn't fool the WASHINGTON POST. Their television writer syndicated a column about my charade that made that hour special on men's genitalia a sensation. It was programmed over fifty times on all eight HBO channels. And one night, when I entered the OLIVE GARDEN with my late friend, Detective John Perry (he lost his life on 9/11 while saving a few hundred people), I received a standing ovation from complete strangers who had seen the HBO show that very evening. The next day I saw a copy of the PHILADELPHIA NEWS with my photo on the full front page and a huge caption: GET SHORTY! There were two pages of copy describing my episode and prior hoaxes. But HBO is not very forgiving. They keep me on the blacklist. In the meantime, I've completed my autobiography that names people and places. And I'm planning to produce another movie, "Organza," that skewers everything sacred in our society. Soon to be at a theater near you! But don't hold your breathe, please.

Please leave me alone!

I don't want to buy anything from the girl with the goofy rotating eyes. She makes me dizzy. Nor do I want a reverse mortgage or to refinance my loans. I am not interested in meeting women with large breasts, medium sized, little or no breasts. Jehovah's Witnesses, please stay away from my house. I'm just not interested in religion anymore. Nor can I be persuaded to join anything. I've done it all over the years. I'm content to sit in a chair and sulk. Just leave me alone. Thanks.

I'm not trying to be a sour puss. Maybe a scrouge. I don't really need anything now. Oh, maybe, if you insist, some tooth paste and toilet paper. Just leave a few tubes and rolls on the front porch. I'll pay you later. Maybe not. You are earning money. I"m not. Pity the poor.

So what is this rant really about?  I just hate to be treated like a consumer. The ploys to suck me in to buying something won't stop trying to entice me. The company offers free shipping. Ha ha. There are no more free lunches or dinners. Those seminars to lasso in the suckers faced a stiff law of diminishing returns. The freeloaders ate their food and drank the booze. But no sales today!

I am still outraged about the flood of mail and phone pitches to lower my auto and house insurance. It's the biggest hoax ever! The insurance companies all employ the same scame: sign up the "mark" for a ridiculously low cost the first few months. Then begin to raise the monthly cost by 15%, surreptitiously. It took me four months to notice that I was paying Liberty Mutual an additional $12 every month more. When I protested, the agent said it was standard procedure. Hmmmmmm.

My cereal box actually tasted better than the corn flakes inside. Yes, I cut out a square of cardboard and ate with milk. Yum yum. The cereal inside was stale and tasted like dry leaves. (I've eaten those too!).  Ditto for the Atkins Diet meal. I tried one. Yuck! A McDonald's Hamburger is much better. Oh, stop with the calories' warning. We're all going to die someday and I'm not going to live my life worrying about getting too fat.

I don't have any more complaints for today. And don't forget: please leave me alone.

What I hate about my computer!

Well, for starters, when it freezes. I call tech support in Shanghai, 17 hours away by air, and someone named "Mary" with a Chinese accent tries to help. She wants me to unplug everything. I explain that I've already done that and it won't correct my problem. She brings up my screen from her end (no jokes about that comment, please) and fiddles with her controls locked into mine. I still remain frozen.

Mary finally gives up after an hour and says I probably need a new modem. Mine is blinking badly. I mention it's already new, only a few months old. She replies that they die quickly. I now wonder how I can find a new modem at 3 am. I can't. Frustrated and angry I slap my modem. All the lights flash at me and settle down. My computer unfreezes!  I shut down and go to bed.

I don't like all the pop-up and drop-down ads. They are so annoying. Then when I delete an ad, a reminder asks me if I really want to leave the page. Does the robot inside my iMac think I am an idiot? Obviously so. I click on the "yes" icon to leave the page. Not yet, says the robot in another comment that locks their page from leaving me. "Are you sure?" is the message. I want to break the screen or smear it with mustard and ketchup. But that's not nice. I need to work with a clean slate, so I go along with their tirade of comments to make a sale.

Another complaint I have is proving that I am not a robot. In order for my comment, or whatever, is to be accepted, I have to file the correct code at the bottom of the last page. It's a scrambled series of numbers and letters all jumbled over one another, some lower case, some upper case and all connected by a common spine that says, "Ha ha ha, dumbo, you better be a graduate in computer science to solve this puzzle. Otherwise, you ain't going nowhere from this moment on."

I have spent as much as an hour and clicked on as many as 27 different codes, as I failed to get any correct ones, and the robot conveniently provides another more complex one to drive me crazy. They win. I lose. I've become crazy and once again, want to find the robot and rip him apart.

There are lots of other complaints I could bring up about the computer, but I'll end here. I do realize that no-cost emails have been driving the US Post Office down the toilet, while saving people millions of dollars in free mailing on the machine. I like that because I average replying to several hundred emails a week. I also send about a dozen snail mail letters out to friends who still like to open paper letters.

Finally, word processing is so much better handled via computer than on an electric typewriter; corrections can be made in seconds and the font looks like it is right off a printing press, which it is. So no more complaints for now. And if your computer freezes, try a little corporal punishment on your modem. It worked for me.