Karl Kranston's "Where's the Wonderful?" (Week 3)
Tuesday, August 11, 2009 at 8:38PM 
Karl "The Dutch Elm" KranstonIs it that time again?! Another week gone by and my buddy Gil is hounding me for words, words, words. You'd think The Bugle would have plenty to talk about with the health care debate and whatnot. My petty ramblings don't add up to much compared with the creeping specter of socialism rapping at our door again. I don't look forward to building another one of those bomb shelters, I can tell you. Or walking around in a radiation suit with goggles. Seems to me, we've got ourselves a pretty darn good country here. Why tinker with success? It's like my Aunt Millie used to say, "Don't go pecking around the hen house iffin' you have windows to wash."
We put her away later that summer. They dragged her out of the house like a sack of salted cashews. Sure do miss that old gal.
Where was I? Ah yes, random thoughts:
The Swedes have very nice hair, don't they? Like spun sunshine.
It's good that hotels provide ice. Because, you know, they really don't have to. They could just say, "Nuts to you, Mister, get your own damn ice."
I do not find George Lopez to be funnier than any other Mexican I've ever met. Except Carlos Mencia. That pendejo is duller than a rusty scythe.
There's a time in every marriage when you have to sit down with your spouse and plainly say, "This is not at all what I had in mind."
Whether you join glee club, choir or the debate team, you are still going to be called a sissy and disappoint your father. You can take my word on that.
I really have no sympathy for a man who has decided he wants to be a poet.
Why do they keep that plastic ring on the outside of bologna? Quite frankly, I'm tired of pulling it out of my dog's anus the day after he gets into the trash.
You never meet women named Carol anymore. Strange that.
It's so hard to rent a good sousaphone band these days.
This tattoo phenomenon is truly puzzling. I can't think of one image or slogan I love so dearly as to burn it into my supple flesh. Well, maybe "What we imagine is order is merely the prevailing form of chaos", but it's far too wordy and would hurt too much to apply to my inner thigh.
She may have a few miles on her but, as far I can see, that Barbara Eden is still as good a reason as any to get up in the morning.
I don't care what sort of newfangled soda pops are out there, the Kranstons will always be a Fresca family.
There is a time in every young man's life when he is going to wonder whether the ladies like him. I'm here to say, Young Fella', they most certainly do not. That's why God made money and hookers.
Is there anything as unsettling as elderly married couples referring to each other as "Mother" and "Father"?
Now, I’m no stickler for truth in advertising but how can the “House of 10,000 Picture Frames” down on Mabry Avenue be no bigger than 30’ x 40’? There's just no room for that amount of inventory. And if they sell a gross, shouldn’t they have to repaint their sign until the new shipment arrives? Heck, maybe I am a stickler.
Next Week: Ping Pong - sport or leisure activity?, life's true purpose, grains of salt with the weatherman and the proper role of hair gel in society.
Reader Comments (2)
Oh, Dutch, don't fear that tat, ole boy. It's all about selecting the correct font size before sizzling a Thornley into the pork loin.
In re the spousal tete a tete...Recently, a family friend from church spotted my Buick LaCrosse in the parkling lot of 'Good Vibrations', Tamarac's discreet adult bodega, forcing a similar awkward sit down with my common law wife of 12 years. "Carol...", I sheephisly practiced in the mirror, "...I'd like to introduce you, no...us...to Lacey Duvalle's patented futuroticly supple, elastic vagina and anus".
Hey, your Aunt Millie sounds alot like our 'Mama Ruth' from Carol's mother's side. Fiesty old carp who's got a quip for every blasted thing, God bless her. We've scheduled an appointment next Tuesday for her first interview with a Death Board.
Extend our best to Gil and his as he courageously endures in these times of rectal discomfort and challenge.
Dear Mr. GOT,
Fine car that LaCrosse.
I'm not sure I agree with letting the wife in on the Lacey Duvalle molds, but I have been to Tamarac (one of my bookies lives there) and frequent "Good Vibrations" on business (I sell vaginal saugglockes).
What the heck's a Thornley by the by?
You seem like good folk Mr. GOT, but if you ever pass through Topeka, just keep on fucking driving.
Yours in loose-fitting pleather trousers,
K.K.
(Somebody put both legs through their Google research panties for "Thornley")