True, embellished and fictional stories for your amusertainment

Extreme Vetting

Yikes! I see what all the fuss is about!

Yikes! I see what all the fuss is about!

Stephen’s Comedy Routine

Stephen started laughing one morning and told me he’d come up with a stand-up comic routine. By the time he was finished, I was laughing, too. Here it is.

When I was at church on Sunday, the minister opened the floor to anyone who wanted to testify. A stranger walked to the front of the sanctuary. He was disheveled, bruised up and looked like he needed a good night’s rest along with a hot meal. Our church never turns anyone away, so we all sat there waiting to see what was on his mind.

He said “Backsliding is good. Without backsliding, there wouldn’t be testifying. Nobody comes to church for the unearthly word of God, they want to hear something real. And they don’t want to hear meaningless drivel like ‘I ate an extra donut or I had bad thoughts’. They want something they can gossip about when they leave church like ‘I stole a car and used it to rob three banks, killing two guards. During my getaway, I missed the bridge and went into the river. I wandered for three days in the woods and fell asleep in the basement of this building’. Now that’s why people come to church! Can I hear an amen?”

May the farce be with you!

And also with you.

Your IFF,





Contrary to his name, Dick Tater prefers living in a democracy

Why I Don’t Cook

This past week I decided to make my own lunch on the big fire box in the kitchen (some call it a stove) – using individual ingredients as opposed to a prepackaged dinner heated in the microwave. I’m not a cook, never have been and rarely use any of the strange appliances in the kitchen because I don’t want to destroy anything. Years ago I started a fire on the stove when I tried to boil oil – an experience I hope to never repeat.

In addition to my fear of fires and explosions, I don’t like to cook because recipes are difficult for me to follow. In need of a simple and easy recipe, I chose to make a grilled cheese sandwich. The recipe called for cream cheese, mustard and shredded cheese. Well, and bread – you needed that, too.

In following the instructions, I got stuck. I couldn’t understand what I was supposed to do. Here was the problem (the recipe was for four servings).

In a small bowl, combine cream cheese and mustard; spread about 1 TBSP cream cheese mixture on one side of each piece of bread. Top 4 slices of bread with 3 TBSP cheese each; cover remaining bread slices, cream cheese side down.

I had several problems with these instructions. First, I didn’t know which pieces of bread were the top four. Frankly, I wasn’t sure why that was important but thought it must be since they were specifically listed.  Second, was the 3 TBSP of cheese – shredded or cream mixture? Since the cream cheese was already listed, it stood to reason the second reference was for the shredded variety. Third, it said to cover the remaining bread slices – with what? And how could I tell which were remaining when I didn’t know which were the top 4? Finally, why cream cheese down? Wouldn’t it be hard to cook with the cream cheese directly on the pan? It didn’t make any sense at all.

Of course I figured it out and made the sandwich correctly but the instructions could have been much clearer. This is the perfect example of why I hate to cook.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



Love Triangle

Cupidian Geometry

Known by Mathematicians as Cupidian Geometry

Not Kevin

The last time Stephen and I saw a movie, I went into the theater before him to find seats. Upon entering the cinema, I was surprised to find it empty. Waiting for Stephen, I jokingly stood watching for him so he could find me. As soon as the door opened, I started waving both arms, shouting “Stephen – over here. I’m here!” He stood in place, not moving, so I exaggerated my gestures and yelled louder. I thought he was pretending not to see me amidst the massive crowd of one. After a few moments, it looked as though he was going to turn around and leave, perhaps to retrieve forgotten mustard for his hotdog. Finally, he stepped into the light and with a confused (and slightly frightened look), said “I’m not Kevin.” He then promptly took a seat in the last row – as far away from me as he could get.

Once the stranger was seated, I walked up to him laughing and apologized. I admitted that he wasn’t Stephen (aka Kevin) and told him he could sit wherever he wanted. After pointing out that he was doing just that, he said it was no problem. A few more people showed up before Stephen finally came in. When he did, I stood up, faced the back of the theater where Not Kevin was sitting, waved my arms and shouted “He found me!” Everyone looked except Not Kevin who pretended he didn’t see me. When he finally realized I wasn’t going to stop until I was acknowledged, he gave me a quick nod of his head.

I think I scared Not Kevin that day. This crazy stranger trying to capture his attention when we were alone together in an empty theater. My theory was confirmed when I saw he was one of the first to leave at the end of the show. Had I been on my toes, I would have waited for him by the door. That was definitely Not Kevin’s lucky day.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



American Eagle

American Ego

Heavily protected, the American Ego is not on the endangered list.

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