0920_FoolishTimes-web

zach.allen2814

September 2020

Coronavirus playlist 2020

1. you give me fever

Peggy lee

2. don’t stand so close to me

THE Police

3. toxic

BRITNEY SPEARS

4. IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD as we

know it (and I feel fine)

R.E.M.

5. all by myself

celine dion

6. u can‘t touch this

MC HAMMER

7. knockin’ on heaven’s door

bob dylan


2 \\ Foolish Times

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September 2020 // 3

What The Bleep

Is Foolish Times?

Foolish Times is a free monthly tabloid publishing

the best humor we can find (some months we search

harder than others). The opinions or ideas expressed

by contributors are not necessarily those of Foolish

Times, its owner, advertisers, or associates, or their

extended families, or their friends or neighbors,

or their associated pen pals, up to and including

cockatiels. All articles, graphics, photographs, and

what-not (especially the what-not) are copyrighted

by the so-called “writers” and “artists” who

contribute them. Foolish Times uses invented

names in all its stories, except in cases where public

figures are being satirized. Any other use of real

names is accidental and coincidental.

Contributors

Tony Albano, Bini, Charles Birimisa,

Roger Freed, Ted Gargiulo, Jann Gargiulo,

Debbie Harris, Michael Houston, Daria James,

Robyn Justo, Rex Keyes Dana Larabee,

Peter Mehren, Nancy Pyzel, Jay Russell,

Gilly Spangler, Mary Tompsett, Sali

Cartoonists

The Chucklehead Speaks

This pandemic has made a lot of us geographically illiterate and economically ignorant. Where

did all our money go? So many people are still out of work but we can be thankful we live in a

country where we can do exactly as our government pleases.

We recently had a diversion from the pandemic with the fires that raged throughout our county

and our friends to the north in Santa Cruz. There is nothing humorous about the loose of property

and the destruction a fire causes. We, at Foolish Times honor and salute the brave fire fighters who

put themselves at risk to contain and extinguish the blazes. Many thanks to you from us and our

readers.

Jay Cohen, my insurance agent called to ask if I wanted to add fire insurance to my auto policy.

My first thought was, why would anyone want to steal a burning car? He also suggested that I

increase my life insurance policy. Not to feel any pressure, he told me to sleep on it and call him

with an answer in the morning. If I wake up.

Please, wear your mask when you go out. Let’s make our area so safe and boring that when the

tide rolls out, it doesn’t come back….until this pandemic is finally over.

Stevie P. // publisher@foolishtimes.net

Andre Adams, Will Bullas, Max Cannon,

Roger Freed, Chris Myers, Chuck Scardina,

David Schmidt, Monte Truitt, Megan & Miguel,

Jo Mora, The Unknown Carmel Cartoonist

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4 \\ Foolish Times

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September 2020 // 5

Mira. WOW!

The Uniform Is Not

Greener On The Other Side

Going on deployment and going to prison have a

lot more in common that people think about. You

probably had some events in your life that lead

you into making some zany decisions which then

unraveled a series of actions and now you are

wearing government issued outfits. I have never

been to prison, but I used to watch Orange is the

New Black and continue to serve our beautiful

country.

How are they the same and yet have different

receptions? Well, glad you asked. Both groups

of people are confided to a compound which they

cannot leave; our rooms are small and in most

cases shared with a roommate(s). You wear the

same outfit every day, you get some yard time to

work on your gains, you write letters to those you

love so they do not forget about you while you are

gone in hopes that you will just slide right back into

their lives because they held your spot.

You get to eat at the same facility and little

things like vanilla pudding on your tray can make

your day. You exchange favors for food or tobacco.

Do not get ahead of me, people. One

time, we didn’t have laundry facilities

and I exchanged two trail mix bags

and vitamin water for a girl to wash

one load of clothes at her camp. I even

provided soap and dryer sheets.

You see the same people every day.

We have basic access to a clinic, we

shop at a little store on campus, we

all get excited when we get mail, you

hang out with people you probably

would have never met before, it can

be a little clicky. You have a lot of time

to pass the time (I would have said

kill time but that was too easy). You can take online

classes and work on a

degree, you have room

inspections, you can

make some phone calls

once in a while (back in

my day, I used to buy

calling cards to call the

US, now we have Wi-

Fi), the list can keep

going, but I think I

made my point.

I will, however point

out both groups feel

underpaid for their

services. When people

get out of either one,

they come out with

a different mentality

and set of skills, life has a different meaning,

we learned valuable lessons and each individual

processes those lessons differently, some are angry

and continue on a destructive path or change their

way of life for the better.

When we get back

home, it can be hard

Working with

civilians takes

adjustment

because some

can’t even do

push-ups.”

to break some of the

habits you acquired

while hanging out

at the “government

retreat”, dropping the

F word like a verbal

comma, consuming

tobaccos products,

eating like a college

freshman because

energy drinks

and junk food fuel

America. Making your bed, folding your clothes

a certain way… hey, I still fold my clothes the way

Uncle Sam thought me and it maximizes room in

my suitcase when I travel. Working with civilians

takes adjustment because some can’t even do pushups

and we can be a little reserved when sharing

our stories, or totally inappropriate, perhaps some

did some things they are not proud of but hey,

you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes. Never

judge a Veteran, because like Velma Kelly said: “If

you had been there, if you had seen it, I betcha you

would have done the same!”

Thank you to everyone serving and those who

have served. If you are thinking of serving, talk

to people in the branch you are interested in.

Realistically, we have two military branches, Army

and Navy. The Air Force is a corporation and the

Marines are a cult who technically belong to the

Department of the Navy. If you are mad about what

I just said you are probably a Marine.

Why did I not mention the Coast

Guard? No one cares about them. Take

your 30-day “deployment” and go away.

If you are a Coastie and did an actual

deployment you get brownie points

and we can hang out when I get back in

town.

Instagram: Mira_Wow


6 \\ Foolish Times

ZOOM

// Gilly Spangler

Remember Zoom from about forty years ago? It

was that great PBS kids show, on every afternoon.

Remember? They wore long sleeved striped polo

shirts, did cartwheels and things, had a lot of fun,

played games and did projects, all interspersed

with social skills. Zoom. Come on and Zoom Zoom

Zoom-a Zoom! In these times of Corona, Zoom

has evolved into a new dimension as a remote

meeting platform. In the landscape of virtual Zoom

meetings, there are still some

fun and games, and projects,

and even some social skills going

on, but now it’s live, and we’re

Zoomed into focus whether we

like it or not. Working remotely,

I’ve been to a lot of Zoom

meetings. Maybe not Zoom, but

some kind of platform where you

can look like you’re on

the beginning of the Brady

Bunch. I’m in education, so our

meetings are our class time.

I figured I’d gotten a lot of

practice, attending Zoom room

parties over summer. Getting up

to

refresh my drink, talking to everyone from the

kitchen while getting a snack, saying be right back

to take care of stuff. It was a blast. Like being there,

but having the freedom to just come and go

as I please. If I just walked away, it wasn’t like in

real life. I could just stop dancing, run back and

say oh! I forgot we’re Zooming! I won’t share any

more of my Zoom missteps, let’s just be glad

they were Zoom parties and everyone there was

also busy refreshing their drinks and such.

So the school year started, and after about a

week of classroom meetings I’ve learned a lot. For

one thing, I need to get up at my regular time and

do my typical morning routine. This gives me

time to zoom around like I usually do. I even look

for my keys just to keep things legit. I’ve done the

almost bedhead and haven’t finished my coffee

version, and

about three

minutes in, well

it just wasn’t

good. It took me

days to find the

right lighting

and height for

my device and et

cetera.

Having a lot

of curtainless

windows has

made this a real

challenge. So of

course it’s my

bedroom. I have

an office side of the bed, with a cushion for my

laptop and an official rolling chair. A lot of people

get a partition or download some sort of backdrop,

but I’m just going with what’s behind me in the best

light. The staff and students know my desk, and

aren’t at all surprised by all the stuff on my dresser.

So here are some other things I’ve learned. If

my ankle itches I should just excuse myself and

get some calamine

lotion. I reached

This thought came

to me right when

I joined today’s

meeting with my

hair pulled back.

Uh, no, do not Zoom

in a pony tail.

down to scratch it about fifteen times before I

remembered I

was in Jan Brady mode. Oh, wait, I was in Marsha’s

spot today. I have to stop thinking about where

I’m looking. I tried to look, and figure out what I’m

actually focussed on. It got to where I was looking

at myself looking and I created some sort of vortex

into badly focussed nothingness.

I used to SPEAK TOO LOUDLY, but maybe I’ve

curtailed that!! The one that I still can’t figure out

is my expression, looking so dour and all. So I’ve

started to smile intermittently just to be present.

I realized today that smiling out of the blue is a

little odd, so I try to time it with someone saying

something even remotely amusing. In real life, I

tend not to stare blankly at anyone, and for that

matter, don’t make lackluster eye contact. I feel

like I do it for hours when I’m zooming. I have to

say, I scratch my ankles and arms far more than I

imagined and I have to practice smiling more.

So today’s meeting I was thinking up some stuff.

On PJ days, or even if it’s just bad hair we’re

contending with, we can bow out completely by

turning off our camera. This thought came to me

right when I joined today’s meeting with my hair

pulled back. Uh, no, do not Zoom in a pony tail.

We can participate by mouthing words with

corresponding gestures to seem really engaged. But

don’t mute yourself, or everyone will see the icon

and figure it out. But here’s my favorite: You can

sit perfectly still and just do a pseudo freeze. Or

maybe try to start and stop moving and talking to

imitate a delay. This could be great if timed well.

If everyone Zooming played around like this, we

could agree to have another day be spent looking

into supposed connectivity problems. And hey,

we’d probably get just as much done.

Since I’m in education, it’s like virtual

ditching and I wouldn’t need to fake

my mom’s signature.


Fool-O-Scope

// Bini

September 2020 // 7

Aries: (Mar 21–Apr 19)

The Ram

5,6,7,8 ~Tap tap tap tap. “Me first, Me first” ~ Your

rap has tapped you right into the clink! You

started out with a bang this year and recently

slipped into a self-oriented paradiddle. “Sharing”

was introduced in your childhood years,

remember? Maybe you stayed home sick that day.

Taurus: (Apr 20–May 20)

The Bull

You have befriended all of your possessions,

but one…your plumpy heart. Should we call the

paramedics?! Jazzing it up with ruby studs & satin

spats is a flash in the pan of life’s true Ragu. Be the

first to respond to your own vital center and the

defense will rest in your favor.

Gemini: (May 21–Jun 20)

The Twins

GEMS steal the limelight. Imposing your lofty

point of view can be enticing for some like

murderers’ row because they are the heavyweights

of the “one on one” - thing. They may hit hard back

where you have to look low and away, but always

watch for in your ear. Perhaps, staying with what

you are better acquainted with for now may prove

to be a big hitter on its own.

Cancer: (Jun 21–Jul 22)

The Crab

Homebody! Look at these barren walls of this tilted

countryside. The flowers wilting and spilling into

a river of color that washes opaque. Give up the

ghost, this property is condemned. Your snappers

have turned blue holding on so tight to this 4 by 4.

Let it roll down like silk stockings. Then open to

the view of YES.

Leo: (Jul 23–Aug 22)

The Lion

Governor & Governess ~ A motive in need of a

1000 votives? Declare self-defense where foul play

is concerned. Governing over substantial pleasures

can be dangerous where Paparazzi are concerned.

They have been sited stepping past the mote and

flashing photos of your underbelly. Only your nose

hairs have been divulged. Bring out the circle of

life almanac with the picture of Simba on the front,

they’ll know who rules.

Virgo: (Aug 23–Sep 22)

The Virgin

Zanuck, born in September created the Jazz Singer.

He did not dissect the facts before creating

his masterpiece or scrutinize his creativity. You are

thinking two words about yourself; “Not Guilty.”

Yet, you want this in-motion picture life to be

black and white and cutaway the gray areas. If you

embrace all chaos as a confounding wisdom, then

you will Razzle Dazzle! Happy Birfday Bunny!

Libra: (Sep 23–Oct 22)

The Scales

Flowers are the true charmers - emulate! I know it

is all about parsnips and onions with you. Your cry

is “I can’t do it alone!” Yet watch the Lilies brush

the sky and notice their six degrees of separation

from their neighbors. Take the stand but don’t be a

weed.

Scorpio: (Oct 23 –Nov 21)

The Scorpion

You are entitled, for many a good reason

SCORPO, to a legacy that persists in your honor:

A splendiferous regeneration, a make-over of the

soul. By default a famous stinger. Play this hand

and you’ll rake in the chips.

Sagittarius: (Nov 22–Dec 21)

The Archer

Nowadays a sob story will get Facebook time

sympathy. But you’re not buying it! Peel your

ass off the amateur bench and find a real life

adventure, explore distant planets, discover new

ideas, catch the glimpse of a shooting star! If the

Facebook leaches try to reach your purified psyche,

steer clear of any incriminating online entries by

declaring you both reached for the gun. Black-out!

Capricorn: (Dec 22– Jan 19)

The Goat

Hard edged grittiness may be best left for the

pigeons digestive system. This reputation of yours

is igniting a nightly brawl at the local dive. So you

stand head in hand? Oh stop that jive. What you

need is an aspiring aspirin to be able to store your

juice for A LOT of a little bit of good again. In a

beer bottle if you have to, or are they all broken?

Aquarius: (Jan 23–Feb 18)

The Water-Carrier

Hopes, dreams, and wishes. Goody, gooey, drippy

& blech! You are left baffled when it doesn’t

happen as you expect. Teaming up now would be

sensational. With a partner in crime you can paint

the town! Start with the old barn, I hear it needs a

new coat. I am sure your knees will be rouged by

this generosity.

Pisces: (Feb 19–Mar 20)

The Fishes

Isn’t it great! Isn’t it grand! Isn’t it swell that

nowadays for you coming alive happens only after

dark?? I know life can be a just a noisy hall. But

escapism may be the floozy you need to cut off!

Are the flash bulbs popping yet!? Know your Jazz,

because the piano keys are hot and your watery

cool ways are needed to steam up your run of luck.

Start with Blow Fish Blues in F.


8 \\ Foolish Times

1) Should we teach dogs to drive?

2) Is it possible to make toast in a microwave?

3) Is chess a sport?

Bob#1

1) I see people driving all the time with a dog on their lap.

That’s the first step.

2) Reheating pizza is bad enough. I don’t think it would

work with toast.

3) I never thought about chess as a sport. It’s about being

completive and winning but if it’s not on ESPN, it’s not a

sport.

Robert

1) Their little legs can’t reach the pedals and they can’t

grip a steering wheel. They are used to chasing cars.

2) I think that would be possible. Set it on high for

a few minutes and be sure not to let it burn. Eat it

quickly so it doesn’t taste like rubber.

3) Sports are not just physical but mental. You have to

be in ‘chess shape’ to win. I’ve never seen chess players fight. Maybe that’s

why I’ve never seen chess players.

Roberta

1) We have self-driving cars. Maybe we should have

dogs that walk themselves and pick up their messes.

2) Microwaves don’t brown food. I can’t imagine anyone

dumb enough to try this.

3) Chess is very strategic. I don’t understand it but if it

makes you happy to call it a sport, then its a sport.

My Dad and the Story

of the Firetruck

// Jann Gargiulo

Have you ever seen those “little

books” that need to be filled in? This

is another story prompted by that

“little book”.

Here is the remark in the little

book to which I am to respond:

Relate a Life Lesson

You Learned

From One Of Your

Parents. The first

thing that came to

mind was my dad

and the story of the

Firetruck.

My dad was

standing on the

sidewalk talking to

a friend and several

of us kids were next

to them. Daddy said

to all of the kids, “The best thing I

can teach you is to do what you are

told when you are told. If you have

questions ask them later. Now listen

closely: the one giving the orders

knows something you don’t. So, just

obey.”

Wow! This is really hard to do.

It is worth it when one practices

this principle. God must have been

listening to my dad, because right

after daddy told us all to obey

immediately when given an order,

something strange happened. I swear

to you this is true 100% !

I started to run across the street

and I heard my Dad yell, “Jann get

back here now!” I stopped dead in

my tracks and looked at my dad. He

waved his hand down and didn’t

say another word. I rushed over to

him. He picked me up and turning

my face towards the street showed

me this huge firetruck! If I had not

run back to

my Dad when

he called me

If I had not

run back to

my Dad when

he called me

I would have

died that day.”

I would have

died that day.

I couldn’t see

the firetruck

because of

where I was

standing. But

daddy was

further up the

hill and could

see the truck

coming. He knew something I didn’t.

I’m so glad I obeyed him.

I always loved my Daddy when I

was young, but as I got older I forgot

this lesson and thought I knew better

(especially about clothing, shoes, and

dating), but human nature hasn’t

gotten better over all these years;

it’s gotten worse! Don’t believe me,

turn on the news. I do remember this

wise lesson my Dad taught all of us

that day. It was not the first one he

taught us, nor would it be the last.

I was truly blessed to have a Daddy

like mine. I thank God for both of

my parents and their fine work in my

life. They were both so wise.

Bob #2

1) I think it would be cool to have dogs drive. I don’t

own a car and if they offered a dog with every car

purchase, maybe I would get my license.

2) I have proof that it doesn’t work. We tried it at work

and failed several times.

3) Sitting in one spot for hours and concentrating is not

a sport. If that’s the case, sitting on the beach is a sport

too.


September 2020 // 9

Panetta, The Sequel

// Debbie Harris

It was a cold January day in Monterey, a Saturday.

The air was thick with anticipation of what was to

come. I roamed around looking at signs, taking

pictures of the ones I liked, checking the crowd to

see if I recognized anyone--observing in the scene.

Then I saw him from a distance . . . again from a

distance.

The last time I’d seen him this close, I was at

his office in the giant domed building so far away.

The door to his personal office opened and I got

a brief glance. I waved. He was talking and didn’t

return my wave. The door closed. He’d been sitting

with a group of people, his staff I presumed,

probably having a meeting. My son and I had our

picture taken with the staff member who’d given

us the tour, clicked as we stood in front of a wall

of California wines. We were happy to have been

given the tour, but a picture with him would have

popped the cork on our bottle of wine. Alas, it was

not to be.

Before we left the office, I gave a copy of my July

2018 Foolish Times piece to the young woman

who’d scheduled the tour, telling her that I write for

a Monterey County humor paper and that I’d done

a piece on his father. She took the folded paper with

a smile and thanked me. I didn’t know if anyone

would read it, but it didn’t hurt to try.

So there I was that winter day, close . . . again.

He was surrounded by people, so I took a

few pictures of him from a distance. . . just

to prove that he’d been there and that I’d

been close . . . again. I was pleased that he

was there supporting women. I probably

could have approached him, but I didn’t

want to be one of “those” people—the

pushy opportunists who light on notable

people like a vulture on a fresh carcass.

The March proceeded with twists and

turns through the streets, down alleys,

bottle necking in certain spots, slowing

down the

movement.

At the last

narrow part

of the walk,

we had to

stop. To my

left, out of

the corner

of my eye,

I saw him step next

to me. Right next

to me! Bingo! I’d

been presented with

an opportunity I

couldn’t pass up. I

could engage him

without being one

of “those” people. I pulled my phone out of my

pocket and said out loud, “I’m not going to let

this opportunity pass me by!” A woman who’d

been walking with him offered to take our picture

together, so I handed her my phone. I hope I

remembered to thank her, but I’m not sure. It all

went so fast.

In a manner uncharacteristic of me, I gushed,

telling about my

visit to his D.C.

I didn’t want

to be one

of “those”

people—

the pushy

opportunists

who light on

notable people

like a vulture

on a fresh

carcass.”

office the prior

April. He seemed

surprised that we

hadn’t already had

a picture taken

together while I

was there. I tried

to convey that I

understood that

he was busy and

had work to attend

to—all while

trying to hold still

for pictures. He

looks great in all

the pictures taken,

but the last few

show my mouth in

strange positions

as I continued

to talk. I told him I appreciated his efforts on our

behalf, received my phone back and was on my

way. Within seconds, a tall, gray-haired woman

called him and as he arrived in her presence, she

embraced him heartily and planted an enthusiastic

smacker of a kiss on his cheek (this was pre-

COVID). I hope she was at least a good family

friend; otherwise . . . vulture?

So you see, desired things can

come to those who wait—and don’t

pounce. I finally got to talk to, and get

a picture with, Jimmy Panetta. And I

was able to have a more meaningful

encounter with him than I’d had with

his Father, Leon, over 40 years prior-

-when I worked at Jack in the Box as

a teen and served him a Jumbo Jack

through the drivethru. And I didn’t

have to get a job at In-N-Out Burger to

do it (see Foolish Times July 2018)!


10 \\ Foolish Times

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???

// Robyn Justo

What were you thinking at 8:22 am on June 14,

1982? Can you recall? Was it important?

It might have been about being late for a college

class, or wondering what you might have for

breakfast, or how you were going to handle a client

at work.

Unless it was your birthday, anniversary, or you

were arrested after a night of wild partying, it is

probably damn near impossible to recall. It was

like one of those thought bubbles hanging over

your favorite Charles Schultz cartoon characters.

They are long gone just like Charles.

When we look up into space, we see an infinite

sky filled with stars. We’re told that most have

long died out and all we are seeing is the afterglow.

Hmmm. Kind of a cosmic déjà vu.

It makes me wonder what it might be like from

space, looking down on Earth and seeing a rotating

ball, a revolving door of human existence. If you

want a bit of that experience, hop on Google Earth,

soon to be replaced by Google Galaxy, Google

Universe, and Google Infinity.

Back to the thought bubbles. Where have they

gone? They are more fleeting than even we are,

evaporating into an unseen

expansiveness.

My point is that our thoughts,

our beliefs, and even sometimes

our values change. Sometimes

they solidify into a bronze statue

of a man on a horse or a guy

with a big gun. And even those

disappear, get destroyed, or

simply burn out. A confederate

statue that was once meaningful

to somebody is now no more

than a great place to pee for a

German Shepherd on a long walk with its human.

Perspective.

There are no “sides” unless one is in a box.

Humans on Earth

have been on a round planet but have insisted that

it is divided into sides based on fleeting thought

clouds.

Round planet, infinite skies, stars that burn

out. There is no “there.”

There is only here. Heaven

As Trump

says, Covid-19

“Will go away

like things go

away.”

isn’t up, Hell isn’t down. It’s

right here, folks. As Trump

says, Covid-19 “Will go

away like things go away.”

(Thought bubble over my

little head right now: Then

why doesn’t HE?)

Hang out with me in the

humility of the afterglow

that we will soon be or

already are, depending on

the view and the distance.


September 2020 // 11

Why is the blonde purchase an AM radio?

She didn’t want one for nights.

What can strike a blonde without her even knowing

it?

A thought

Why can’t a blonde write the number eleven?

She doesn’t know what number came first

A blonde is watching KION News with her husband

when the Dan Green says, “Six Brazilian men die in

a skydiving accident.”

The blonde starts crying to her husband, sobbing,

“That’s horrible!”

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Confused, he replies, “Yes Dear, it is sad, but

they were skydiving, and there is always that risk

involved.” The blonde, still sobbing, says, “How

many is a Brazilian?”

Did you hear about the blonde who gave birth to

twins?

Her husband in out looking for the other guy

Why did the blonde scale the glass wall?

She wanted to see what was on the other side

What do you call 24 blondes in a box?

A case of empties

“May I take your

order?” the blonde

waitress asked.

“Yes, how do you

prepare your

chickens?”

“Nothing special sir,”

she replied, “we just

tell them straight out

that they’re going to

die.”

How do you keep a blonde home?

Build a circular driveway

Where do blonde go to meet their relatives?

The vegetable garden

Why are blondes hurt by people’s words?

Because people keep hitting them with dictionaries

A blonde walks into Hedi’s Shoe Store and tries on

a pair of shoes.

“How do they feel?” asks the salesclerk.

“They feel a bit tight,” replies the blonde.

“Try pulling the tongue out,” offers the clerk.

“Nath, theyth sthill feelth a bith tighth,” the blonde

replies.

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12 \\ Foolish Times

DESTROYS

Episode 22

"Smashed, Bashed and Trashed"

Written and Illustrated by

Dana B. Larrabee

dalarents@gmail.com

Previously: Malcolm D. Monster promises ad man Lester Krasse two million dollars to deliver a marauding T. Rex to

promote his new Salinas Monster Mart store. But when despite Army tank fire, the creature escapes clutching teenager

Neil Scallopini to wreak havoc on Salinas, it takes Air Force jets to subdue it with tranquilizer dart-tipped missiles, and

the T. Rex and Neil are incarcerated. Krasse cobbles together a fake T. Rex commercial hoping to win over Monster Mart,

and local media reps begin courting him, one of whom is KTOM radio’s Sue Foxx. CEO Monster nixes Krasse’s fake

dinosaur commercial, insisting on the real deal. Undaunted, Krasse convinces Sheriff Naylor to release the creature on

a “work furlough” for Monster Mart’s commercial starring the heavilly sedated GODZELDA. When Neil sees it, he reveals

how the T.Rex came out of his iceberg hunting expedition for the Icily Nicely Ice Co., and demands to be released. Later

when Captain Horatio Algae corroborates his fantastic story, Neil regains his freedom, and just as Monster Mart’s Grand

Opening commences he learns from Felicia Nicely how Lester Krasse defrauded the company. So Neil sets off for Monster

Mart in the Karmann Ghia he and his father restored to find Krasse and get Felicia’s money back. Dr. Quayle finally

arrives for Godzelda’s morning injection, and bumps in to Neil on the way in, and when Krasse learns Neil is in the store

sends security guards after him who disguise themselves as shoppers and prepare to apprehend Neil. Unfortunately,

Malcolm D. Monster receives GODZELDA’S tranquilizer injection by mistake, GODZELDA breaks free of her chains and...

grab onto

an inflated rubber raft. When it

drifted by KAKA TV’s equipment, he abandoned

ship for a perch on their camera crane. Soaking

wet and hopping mad, he could only watch helplessly

while the TV crew recorded the monster’s

rampage. “What a disaster,” he muttered. “We

could all lose our jobs over this.”

“Not to mention our lives,” commented the camera

operator.

Clasped in the warm folds of Godzelda’s scaly skin,

Neil couldn’t see what was happening. He struggled and

gasped for breath and was momentarily overcome by the

dinosaur’s musky scent. The creature lurched on, and he

could hear displays topple and crash.

While some in the audience were frightened and leaving,

most were transfixed by the unusual spectacle and

oblivious to any danger. Everyone laughed when the

dinosaur’s tail-thrashing sent more displays tumbling, all

in uncanny synchronization to the Tchaikovsky symphony

Rodney had blaring throughout the store. It was quite different

from the show Krasse had planned, but the crowd

was loving it.

Peterson was not. The creature was fast approaching

the Roadkill Radial tire display, which under his personal

direction, had taken two full days to erect. Godzelda

paused before the monumental tire pyramid, eyed it

quizzically, sniffed at it, then tentatively extended a single

talon, hooked a tire and extracted it from the display.

Peterson averted his eyes. He couldn’t bear to watch the

inevitable collapse which sent hundreds of tires hurtling

to the floor, bouncing and rolling crazily in all directions.

#22-25

COPYRIGHT 2020 BY DANA B. LARRABEE ALL SLIGHTS DESERVED

Jerry Peterson coughed and

spluttered with a nose full

of soft drink. He had nearly

drowned in the Croaker

Cola flood. Fortunately, the

current pulled him through

the sporting goods section

where he was able to

Momentarily dismayed by the commotion, Godzelda froze

in her tracks, clutching Neil in one paw and daintily holding

the tire as one might a jelly doughnut with the other.

Peterson unhappily surveyed the mess. Thousands of

tires were rolling every which way and littering the mall.

“What will I tell Mr. Monster?” he moaned. “And the tire

people? They’ll be furious!”

His fretting was drowned out by laughter and applause.

Godzelda was on the move again, dizzily smashing,

bashing and trashing her way through Monster Mart. A

bit wobbly on her feet, the creature was apparently still

under the influence of Dr. Quayle’s earlier injections. She

loosened her grip on Neil enough so he could turn and

witness the phenomenal chaos below.

This is all that slime-ball ad man’s doing, he thought

and wondered where Krasse was. If the dinosaur would

just settle down and cooperate, maybe everything would

be okay. After all, he’d been able to direct the creature’s

actions somewhat in the cemetery just before the dinosaur

was subdued by the Air Force jets’ tranquilizer missiles.

“Come on, Godzelda,” he said coaxingly as one might

to a pet. “Let’s go find that Lester Krasse!” The teenager

pointed down the next aisle. “Let’s go.” He tried to sound

a lot more in command than he actually felt.

The creature gazed down at the small one. “Ffwhhuff?”

she snorted. Now what?

“Come on,” Neil repeated. “That way!” He pointed down

the aisle again. Godzelda cocked her head and stared at

him.

“Hey, let’s GO!” Neil grabbed a fold of skin at the creature’s

wrist and tugged with one hand while he beckoned

with the other. Godzelda’s eyes narrowed to observe the

perspiring teenager more closely. “Easy, easy now,” he

said, returning her stare. “Everything’s cool. We just want

to move ourselves that-a-way. Unless, of course, you’d

rather let me find that Krasse guy myself.”

A low rumble emanated from the creature’s throat and

Neil felt her giant fingers tighten about him.

“No, no!” he wheezed. “Bad idea... Very bad idea! Forget

it! Just-- just take us outta here, okay?”

Godzelda’s steely gaze shifted from the boy to the store

beyond. “That’s it!” He pointed down the aisle. “There!”

The dinosaur wagged its tail which slammed into a tower

of Porkinson’s canned hams. Clung-clung-clunka-nungclung-clunk!

Hundreds of the yellow tins spilled onto

the floor, when with a snarl, the Tyrannosaurus charged

ahead.

Next issue:

Episode 23 Yellow Streak

All previous episodes available at www.foolishtimes.net


September 2020 // 13

HOMESCHOOLING

Our homeschooling curriculum includes: Honors

Laundry and AP Vacuuming.

To teach kids about democracy, I let them vote on lunch.

They picked pizza. Then I made tacos because they

don’t live in a swing state.

Poll during this pandemic finds 65% of husbands

are doing the majority of homeschooling and childcaretaking.

2% of wives agree.

What do you call it when a homeschool parent talks to

themselves?

A parent-teacher conference.

My son and I got into an argument about the education

system. He went on a rant about how education in

America is broken and asked me, “Who’s running the

education system?”

“Your mom,” I replied.

and another worm in a glass of whiskey. The worm in

the water lived, while the one in whiskey curled up and

died.

“All right, son.” asked the father, “what lesson did you

learn?”

“I learned that if you drink alcohol, you will not have

worms.”

If schools stay closed much longer, I’m worried we’re

going to start seeing homeschool shootings.

I just did twenty minutes of exercises with my fourth

grader. In lieu of flowers, please donate to your favorite

charity in my memory.

25 years from now kids everywhere will be like, “I

remember the spring of 2020, that’s when I learned

how much liquor it takes to be a parent”

JUNIOR

JOKES

Q: What is a forum?

A: Two-um plus two-um

Q: What room can a

student never enter?

A: A Mushroom

Q: What was Camelot?

A: A place where people

parked their camels

Q: What holds the sun up

in the sky?

A: Sunbeams

Q: What object is king of

the classroom?

A: The ruler

Q: What vegetables to

librarians like?

A: Quiet peas

A kid came home to find his parents sitting at a table,

looking disappointed.

“Son, you’ve been expelled.”

“But I’m homeschooled!”

“That’s the point. Now get out.”

What a crazy world, my ten year old just requested

that I stop being loud and crazy

because she has a call at 11am

with her teacher.

I’m starting a Go Fund Me to

teach my twin boys math.

It’s called, “Making the little

things count.”

A father was trying to teach

his young son a science lesson

using the evils of alcohol. He

put one worm in a glass of water

TUNE IN 9-10AM

Every Saturday morning

LOCAL GUYS

ON

LOCAL RADIO

also streaming on

www.shagbagshow.com

Q. What did the algebra

book say to the science

book?

A: Boy, do I have

problems

Q: Where do people learn

to make ice cream?

A: In sundae school

Q. Why did the echo get

detention?

A: It kept answering

back

Q: Why did the clock in

the cafeteria run slow?

A: It always went back

four seconds


14 \\ Foolish Times

My girlfriend felt sorry for getting anger and

throwing red wine over all my clothes in the closet.

She said that she spent all day getting the stains

out just to show how much I mean to her.

I asked her what she used to remove the stains.

“Scissors,” she replied.

A woman was telling her friend, “It was I who

made my husband a millionaire.”

“And what was he before you married him?”

asked the friend.

The woman replied, “A multi-millionaire”.

Why is it difficult to find men who are sensitive,

caring and good-looking?

They already have boyfriends.

Love is telling someone to go to hell and worrying

about them getting there safely.

A bus full of women going Chuck Chaney crashed

with no survivors. Each husband cried for a week,

but one husband continued for more than two

weeks. When asked he replied miserably, “My wife

missed the bus.”

Stanford studies have determined that the most

often used sexual position for married couples is

the “doggie position”. The husband sits up and begs

and the wife rolls over

and plays dead.

grave. The man kept repeating, “Why did you have

to die? Why did you have to die?” The first man

approached him and said, “Sir, I don’t wish to

interfere with your private grief but for whom do

you mourn so deeply? The mourner took a moment

to collect himself and replied, “My wife’s first

husband.”

My dream woman has a special combination of

inner and outer beauty and is, most importantly,

too naive to know she’s way out of my league.

I think my girlfriend has

a blind fetish. Last night

she said we should stop

seeing each other.

A good friend of mine was down in the dumps so I

asked what was wrong.

“It’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s the problem?”

“When I asked her if she could learn to love me,

she asked me how much I was

willing to spend on her education.”

A man placed flowers on

the grave of his dearly

departed mother and

started back toward his

car when his attention

was diverted to another

man kneeling at a

To be happy with a man, you must

understand him a lot and love him a little.

To be happy with a woman, you must love

her a lot and not try to understand her at all.

Last Friday came home and was greeted

by my wife dressed in stunningly sexy

lingerie.

“Tie me up,” she purred, “And you can

do anything you want.”

I tied her up and went golfing.


September 2020 // 15

Thinking Thingamabobs

// Nancy Pyzel

Do you feel overwhelmed by the glut of gadgets

claiming to boil, bake, broil, barbeque, deep fry,

air fry, stir fry, melt, muddle, defrost and distill

without breaking a sweat? You’re not alone. These

days, every gadget is marketed as “smart”. Widget

makers are like proud parents who pronounce

their babies prodigies. No baby, or appliance, is

ever called “average”. Just because a contraption is

smart, doesn’t mean we are smart to buy it.

Smart buy or not? Home Beautiful’s list of the

appliances they want you to think you need:

The home automatic soap dispenser is

just like the ones you confront in airport

and office restrooms. This smart-ass

gismo refuses to dispense soap when you

wildly wave your hands under its little

nostril. Then it launches a great gob

of foam onto your sleeve while you are

trying to rinse your hands. Yeah, I really

don’t think I need one of those at home.

However, I would pay for a video of

people in airport restrooms doing battle

with soap dispensers.

“Drop Scale” looks like a white petri

dish with a red rubber lid. Its simple,

retro style belies the magic and wonder

under the rubber. Whatever is inside

(Penicillin mold? elves?) talks to your

iPhone, weighs ingredients, and helps

you substitute stuff you already have for those

hard-to-find items in recipes. So that’s where

garlic ice cream came from.

The automatic pan stirrer is a three legged robot

that pirouettes around your pan of Hollandaise

sauce. Something about its design makes it

look like a mischievous, mechanical gremlin. It

reminds me of Mickey’s broom in “The Sorcerer’s

Apprentice”. Let it stir your sauce, but don’t you

dare turn your back on it!

“Sous Vide” is both a gadget and a style of

cooking. It is touted as the great secret of famous

chefs. “Sous” is French for “under” and “vide”

means “empty”. So “sous vide” should mean “under

empty”, a good term for our bank accounts when

we buy too many smart devices. The Sous Vide is

actually a wand you stick in a pot of water and - you

won’t believe

this - it boils

The only time I

want to talk to

my microwave

is when it burns

popcorn. I’m

pretty sure what

I want to say isn’t

in the app.”

water! Wow!

I would have

just turned the

stove on, but

I’m obviously

not as smart as

this gadget.

I thought

about buying

the coffee

maker that

brews a pot

when I give the

command from

my phone. But

what I really

want is a butler to pour a cup and serve it to me in

bed. I’ll wait for version 2.0.

Then there is the smart, internet-connected

blender. Why would a blender need to connect

to the internet? Does it need to take virtual spin

classes to stay in shape for Margarita night? Order

now! You don’t want

a blender with a

muffin top.

The “GeniCan Scanner” attaches to your recycle

or trash can, scans items you throw away and

automatically adds them to your shopping list.

This could be too much information if you live with

housemates, but helpful if you have a teenager. You

will know when your teen has had a party since

your shopping list will consist of vape refills, Oreos

and cheap beer.

For just $300 you can own a toaster with a

touch screen-because pushing down the handle

on the side is too much work. One ad says, “If

you’ve ever wished you could simply talk to your

microwave, now’s your chance.” The only time

I want to talk to my microwave is when it burns

popcorn. I’m pretty sure what I want to say isn’t in

the app.

“Instant Pot” is the appliance Jack of All

Trades so it must have a massive electronic brain.

We humans only use a small percentage of our

brains. We use an even smaller part of our phone’s

brains. My phone can do lots of stuff I don’t even

understand. Yet built-in obsolescence forces me

to keep buying a new phone with even more stuff

I’ll never use. The do-it-all appliance may face the

phone’s fate, periodically replaced by a shiny new

one with more uses and less use.

I can think of three reasons for smart

appliances:

• Retailers can triple their profits

• Marketing firms can sell your shopping-pattern data

• Built-in obsolescence means repeat buying

None of these reasons benefit you. If you are an

early adopter or influencer and get paid for raving

about smart appliances on your blog, go ahead

and splurge. Just make sure you have enough

bandwidth and real estate on your counter for your

new gizmos.

I’ll stick with appliances that stay

off the net and are not smart enough

to spy on me. My cast iron skillet has

fried fish in a campground, melted

brie for fancy dinners, and sautéed

omelets for lazy Sunday mornings. It

will be be fully functional for another

30 years, and it has never once ratted

me out to the condiment Nazis for

using too much hot sauce.

Now, about that butler...


16 \\ Foolish Times

Dreadman Forever

Dread made

his Black Life

Matter for all of

us. Everybody

who knew Dread

from Salinas

school-mates and

local characters.

Dread used his

genius to support

the homeless,

their advocates,

social activists,

musicians,

community

organizers, to the mayors, city councilors, county

supervisors, to service providers, and regional

politicians. He networked with for a better world

with his humanity and art.

A Real People’s Arts Hero

I got to know Dread as our photojournalist

around 2015 for Voices of the Street/Voces de

la Calle, the free speech and

arts homeless newspaper out

of the CSUMB Chinatown

Community Learning Center.

Dread’s photos accompanied

many of our articles and covers.

When we transitioned to the

Salinas Living Poetry and Prose

Project, Dread documented

our authors’ events, from Arts

Council Champions Galas to

Steinbeck, Chavez, and

King City library readings and workshops, First

Night Monterey, Greenfield Harvest Festivals,

performances at Alisal Center for the Fine Arts,

Camino del Arte events at Closter and Natividad

parks, Salinas First

Friday Art Walks, and

Noche Bohemia at

Sherwood Hall. Dread

would do the photos.

En garde!

Life takes a team, for

example, three or four

Musketeers. Wes White

would do the videos.

Pamela Weston and

Rita Acosta would take

the lead in advocacy.

Dread’s photos grace

Life takes

a team, for

example,

three or four

Musketeers.”

Rita’s photo history Make a Difference/Haz Una

Diferencia documenting the 2014 effort to establish

Tents by the Garden, a homeless led encampment

with hygienic access.

Dread McCall stood up for

himself with wry humor. I

remember the time we were

hanging the Youth Center

Murals with Linda P. Hevern

in the Monterey Room at the

County Building on Alisal

St. when Van Gresham erred

on the side of what may have

appeared white privilege and

critiqued Dreads art hanging

technique. Dread gracious gave up his perch and

invited the big fella to do better himself. Dread

texted me from the LULAC (League of United

Latin American Citizens) meeting he was

documenting with Wes White the afternoon before

he passed.

Say His Name! Dread McCall

His friends are lobbying to get the new county

homeless emergency housing facility named

for Dread McCall. Maybe you could let your

supervisors know it’s a good idea.


DILLIGS!?

September 2020 // 17

And Now From

Our Sponsors…

Howdy! I’ll have my usual short stack, extra syrup,

and double side of bacon, crisp. Oh, wait… silly

me, I’m channeling Porky Pig again. This intro is

brought to you by Oscar Mayer Bacon, providing a

double-dip of Eeewww to start us off.

I don’t have a dick. But I can act like one. My

joy and curse of this incremental change began

as a good little kid who had a lazy eye and a false

tooth, loved horses and books, and prayed a

ridiculous amount of time over her “sins.” As a

teen, classmates referred to me as “sweet.” Fast

forward past all the yippees and yuckies in the

journey, and here we are, still hunting for laughs.

And if we stray too far into dickness? Surely, our

childhood prayers and penance are still valid and

will save our flabby sinful asses. This paragraph

is sponsored by the Plural Pronoun, so damn

handy for blurring personal accountability. Here’s

our September treasure chest of spiritual gems in

“DILLIGS!?” (“Does It Look Like I Give a Sh*t!?”)

QUESTION: Sometimes on Zoom, people do

distracting or embarrassing things. Should I send

them a private chat?

DILLIGS: Are you crazy!? Relax and

enjoy the scant grasses and pebbled

craters that are actually sudden closeups

of Bill’s bald, scabby head. Breathe

mindfully as Paulette fills her recliner—

and the camera—with hippo legs akimbo.

This disturbing image is made possible

by the series, “Call the Midwife!”

QUESTION: I saw a joke about Snow

White’s friend Sneezy being quarantined.

What about the other six?

DILLIGS: Dopey, anti-masker now on ventilator;

Doc is a “leaker” at the CDC; Happy moved to

Switzerland; Sleepy

has insomnia;

Grumpy sells CBD.

And Bashful? Spotted

at a protest, he was

the only three-foot

storm trooper who

dropped his rifle and

ran whimpering into

the Wall of Moms.

They gave him

cookies and a hug.

QUESTION: I’m

back to work but the

social contact is weird now, making me equalparts

happy and fried. Suggestions?

DILLIGS: Dress for success! I too need to (1)

repel bullsh*t, (2) calm myself, and (3) survive the

whiplash of sudden laughs. Luckily I snagged a

darling fashion ensemble at Victoria’s Secret, in the

seniors closeout bin. Now I’m

struttin’ pretty in French-cut

hip waders and a sequinned

I don’t

have a

dick. But

I can act

like one.”

neck brace, both endorsed by

Dr. Deborah Birx. And I’m one

calm little heifer, thanks to

Grumpy.

QUESTION: Is it hard to get

into Mensa?

DILLIGS: Nah, it’s easy!

Compared to humility. This

tidbit is brought to you by the

words, “Person, woman, man, camera, TV.” Yeah,

in that order.

QUESTION: What if the president loses in

November but won’t leave?

DILLIGS: My sources tell me that circus

veterinarians will close in with tranquilizer darts

normally used to fell a rabid rhino. To expedite

a dignified exit, a front-end loader will then

transport the flaccid prez to a waiting helicopter.

With the drugged lump dangling in a net, the

helo will fly to an undisclosed wilderness for eartagging

and release. Perhaps, near Yose-mittens.

This ray of hope is co-sponsored by A-1 Aerial

Waste Removal, and “Orange-B-Gone” Colon

Cleanse.


18 \\ Foolish Times

GIMME LIBERTY!

A Scorpion, being a lousy swimmer, asked a Turtle

to carry Him on his back across a river.

“But you’ll sting me and I’ll drown!” said the

Turtle.

The Scorpion laughed. “If I were to sting you, we

would BOTH drown! That’s hardly logical!”

“All right, then!” said the Turtle. “Hop on!”

The Scorpion climbed aboard. But less than

halfway across the lake, he stung the Turtle, and

they both sank to the bottom.

As they were dying, the Turtle said, “If stinging

me wasn’t logical, why did you do it??”

The Scorpion replied, “It’s not about logic. It’s

simply my nature! It’s who I am; it’s what I do!”

Fast forward to our coronavirus pandemic. A

generation of dedicated party goers and pleasure

seekers, apparently indifferent to the horror

and human tragedy happening all around them,

demanded to know why their places of recreation

had been shut down or restricted, why curfews

were being imposed, and how political leaders

would dare infringe upon their sacred, inalienable

right to do as they pleased.

Health authorities told them repeatedly that the

key to saving lives and shortening this crisis rested

squarely with them—and with

their willingness to comply with an

embarrassingly simple set of safety

protocols: Avoid large assemblies,

keep your distance, wash your

hands...and WEAR A FREAKING

MASK!!! How difficult was that??

Nevertheless, while doctors and

healthcare workers were sacrificed

their lives battling the disease

and treating those afflicted with

it, these revelers continued to

flaunt their lifestyle with gusto

and complete abandon, as though

their personal freedom took

precedence over anyone else’s.

More stiff-necked and contemptuous than ever,

they partied and

jammed nightclubs,

crowded beaches,

and assembled en

mass in streets and

public establishments

everywhere, refusing

to be told what to do,

or deny themselves

one smidgen of selfentitlement.

Until

they eventually sank

under the weight of

their own liberty,

dragging the rest

of world down with

them.

Call it the terrifying inevitability of one’s

own demise: an insensate, unreasoning entity,

driven by impulses over which it has no control,

drawn like a moth to a flame, elevating denial

and self-endangerment

to a religious experience.

Picture a hundred

It’s not about

logic. It’s

simply my

nature! It’s

who I am; it’s

what I do!”

million such entities set

in motion—swarms of

presumably intelligent

humanity—descending

upon the choice pleasure

spots, like mindless locusts

that can neither abort

their mission nor rethink

their destination, fueled by

instinct, lacking restraint,

oblivious to warnings, to

pleas, to the obvious perils,

to the devastation they’re

spreading throughout their community, to the

fact that their recklessness is prolonging the crisis

indefinitely.

Behold, the face of defiance and unbridled

willfulness—unperturbed by statistics, disdainful

of intervention, bereft of sympathy—the face

that sank a million lives, a million jobs, a million

dreams, a million futures; the face that could

bring civilization to its knees. A face without a

conscience. A face without a mask!

Why, in the light of such mortal danger to

themselves and others—with the number of

positive cases rising exponentially, with hospitals

and ICUs stretched beyond capacity, and innocent

folks perishing all around them—would these

rebels so pigheadedly refuse to follow the simplest,

most rational course of action to inhibit the spread

of this virus and bring the crisis to an end?

As the Scorpion would say, “I’m NOT

rational. This is my nature! It’s who I

am; it’s what I do!”


Boomer Humor

// Richard Stockton

What came first, the comedy or the music?

When I was a child I really wanted to grow up to

be a performer in vaudeville. Early I resigned to the

fact that I was born forty years too late. I still read

every book on the Marx Brothers, Fred Allen and

Jack Benny that I could find. I was captivated in

my teens by Bill Cosby, and I was one of the last to

accept the truth of his monstrous side.

I first start playing the guitar at nine and was

swept up in the folk music revolution. Bob Dylan’s

lyrics rattled around in my head all the time. There

was more than a little envy and my adoration was

not completely healthy; I would have dreams where

my girlfriend would be unfaithful to me by sleeping

with Bob Dylan.

This is what a four year degree from UCSC

qualifies you to do?

I did not get a four year degree from UCSC. At

UCSC I studied fingerpicking guitar styles and

drugs. That led to a lot of construction jobs. The

only thing I took away from UCSC offerings was

while listening to Timothy Leary on the Merrill

College quad. Dr. Leary told us, “Use your life for

an experiment. If your life is not an experiment

it will be wasted.” I took his words to heart. This

value is what I got from UCSC, as well as a draft

deferment until the draft lottery came along. I

dropped out to change the world with my folk

music. This lead to getting really good with a

shovel.

In the mid-seventies the lounge-folk-singerclub-scene

exploded in California and I got work

playing seven nights a week, four hours a night in

lounges. I discovered that I could hold the crowd’s

attention if I told jokes between the songs. I stole

jokes from everywhere and everyone. Three jokes

and a song, repeat ‘til midnight.

I started writing my own material and January

1, 1986 I committed to being a full time standup

comic. I had made it into vaudeville at last.

electric chair that was waiting for him.

In 1992 I was doing one-nighters across the midwest

and for a gig in a tiny Iowa town the booker

had simply listed the start time and the name of

the town. I asked people on the street where a

comedy show might be that night and they pointed

at a boarded up building with a low roof.

The stage had a brass pole in its center and the

clientele were all men. Apparently I was expected

to perform between strip acts. I was amazed that I

actually got paid for this.

How are you staying busy at home in

Corralitos?

It’s been a time to reset myself. Every morning I

write on my book of short stories, working title:

Santa Cruz Stories. The only stages I have are

virtual and I make videos in pursuit of my own You

Tube channel: Richard Stockton Comedy.

Lately I’ve started working on my live act

which is kind of a return to the lounge. It’s a mix

of standup and music. I’m working on an original

tune called “High Functioning Drug Addict” that

loops into a danceable groove. At that point I will

put on my Trump mask to dance around with a

bottle of Clorox, have him drink the Clorox and

then fall down and die. Freddie Mercury of Queen

said that the key to success is to give people what

they want.

Who are your comedy influencers?

Bill Cosby started my madness. I’ve seen him

perform six times.

Steve Martin was life changing. I have never

been able to go to a Steve Martin concert, I’m

afraid that if I saw him live I would pass out.

Watching Steven Wright taught me to trust my

September 2020 // 19

quiet comedic voice.

Jim Carrey and Sam Kinison taught me that

there is no such thing as too far over the top.

I personally knew Bill Hicks and from Bill I

learned that courage doesn’t necessarily need to

come from a bottle of booze.

Fried Comedy News is a hit on KPIG.

How did this idea originate?

I’ve had a long time friendship with Ralph

Anybody. He is a comedian as well and decades ago

he used to perform with me. When I moved back

to Santa Cruz in 2003 I began bringing comedy

content to KPIG on a regular basis and got to know

everyone at the station. I love KPIG. I love the

music, the knowledge of the jocks, Sleepy John

and Ralph. I love everybody down there. I’ve been

playing Americana music all my life and getting

involved with The Pig feels like a dream.

The nuts and bolts was pitching a news/comedy

commentary idea to Laurie Roberts. I told her my

idea. She nodded, “I like it. Five days a week on

Ralph’s morning drive show. New rant every day,

have it relate to life in California and we’ll run

them at 6:30am & 8:30am Monday through Friday.

Start Monday.” I’m on four stations now

September 4th, you’re doing a live event

with an audience at El Vaquero Winery.

Outdoor Comedy and Tunes At El Vaquero

Winery. 6:00 to t8:00 pm on the corner of

Corralitos Road and Freedom Blvd. Entrance by

donation, exit by ransom.

The Cleanliness Next To Godliness Comedy

Extravaganza… standup comedy, boomer humor

tunes and delta blues guitar. Laughter, music, wine,

all at a safe distance.

House Rule: If you laugh so hard you pee your

pants, the El Vaquero staff is prepared to safely

clean up anything that hits the floor. We do have

Depends if you forget yours.

Limited Seating. Please call for reservations

831.607.811

You’ve been doing comedy for a long time.

What are some of the weirdest places

you’ve performed?

Prisons are always interesting what with the

captive audience. Before I was a full time standup

I had a job in Nashville radio as a talk show host.

In 1982 I was doing a documentary interview with

a guy on death row. He said I could interview him

in his cell if I would tell him three jokes. I don’t

remember the jokes I told him but I do remember

that from his cell you could look between his cell

bars and across the corridor you could see the


20 \\ Foolish Times

Trumpelstiltskin Has Struck Again!

The most recent Twitter was even more stunning.

“Ob Doc says it will be biggest, smartest, strongest

White House baby ever! Top that Old Joe Biden!

Listening, Pocahontas? And Little Mayor Pete,

lemme explain something.”

And then came “It could be twins. I’m sure I got

off a great shot, and

Mel gasped. Greatest

orgasm ever! Next

Many of the

President’s

Tweets have

a charming

vagueness,

while others,

of course, are

unambiguous.”

generation of beauty,

brilliance, and genius

continues!”

Is it possible? Is

this why he has been

traveling alone more of

the time.

Journalists are

monitoring DC area

paint stores for sales

of blue and/or pink in

quantities large enough

for a potential nursery.

Sources inside baby

supply stores are

sending suspicious

copies of orders for basinets and other natal

supplies.

Another Twitter: “Grover Cleveland, great fellow,

good man, married a nice girl –and rumors of

previous Love Child were just Fake News- made

Baby Ruth….” “…. Get ready, candy companies,

the Trump Bump is gonna give you inspirations.

You know her name means ‘honey,’ I’ve heard in

whatever that language is she speaks with her

parents.”

Interviews with Trump supporters have elicited

looks of awe, nudges and semi-subtle puns, and

flat-out amazed admiration. “He’s a real man, one

of us!” is the general theme, from men and women.

Meanwhile, from the Left, White House Security

has intercepted and deleted messages to the First

Lady’s e-mail account that have given names of

family planning clinics. Some, too, have criticized

her: “How could you let this happen?”

The same question could be put to

the American voters, not about the

rumored pregnancy so much as about

several of the past elections.

Yet another Twitter: “See what I can

do, Vlad! Hey, Kim, how’s your wife?

Angela, does this give you any ideas?”

The First Lady has been seen with

what appears to be a shocked look on

her face, mumbling in model-speak,

which has words from seven different

languages. Some words have a

harshness which might not indicate

actual distress, disappointment,

anger,

or other

negative

feelings:

they just sound that

way. And the catch in

her voice may just be the

glottal stop some words

include.

“Oh, yeah, I’m The

Man. Certified Stud.

Proven Sire. And

without ObamaCare or

special pills or diets.

Biggest, best,

most astounding Lover.

Bernie, how’s it hanging?”

“I’ve always said I’m an upstanding American. I

guess

this proves it. Ha! Hug the Flag, Salute the

Flagpole!”

Of course, this is all open to interpretation.

Many of the President’s Tweets have a charming

vagueness,

while others,

of course, are

unambiguous.

We’ll just

have to wait

and see.


September 2020 // 21

CHECK PLEASE…

I think my waitress is hungry

She keeps asking how my food is.

the menu, please?”

She throws a drink in his face. “The men I please

are none of your business!”

hand on my steak?”

“You want it to fall on the floor again?”

Two attorneys went to Melville Tavern and ordered

drinks. They each pulled out a sandwich from

their briefcases and started to eat. The waitress

marched over and told them, “You can’t eat your

own sandwiches in here!”

The attorneys looked at each other, shrugged

their shoulders and exchanged sandwiches.

You don’t know the definition of heartbreak until

you see the waitress coming to your table with

food, but then take a sharp turn to a different table.

A guy in a restaurant stops a waitress as she passes

by his table.

“Excuse me, Miss. Can I ask you a question about

I went to the cannibal restaurant the other night

and the server gave me the cold shoulder.

It came with rice and a salad.

A server asked his two customers: “Red or white?”

The first said: “I’ll have red.”

The second said: “Me too. And make sure the

glass is clean.”

A few minutes later, the waiter came back with

the drinks and said, “Two red wines. Which one

asked for the clean glass?”

A server brings the customer a steak he with his

thumb over the meat.

“Are you crazy?” yelled the customer, “with your

Overheard at the Breakfast Club:

Customer: “What are your specials?”

Waitress: “The beef tongue is very good today.”

Customer: “that sounds disgusting. I’d never eat

anything that came from an animal’s mouth.”

Waitress: “Okay. How about some eggs?”

What do you get when you cross a chef and a

waitress?

A cold meal

I told the waitress my coffee tasted like mud.

It should. It was fresh ground this morning.


22 \\ Foolish Times

Foolish Sudoku

Answers

from page 17

Foolish Search

Answers

from page 10

Last year I took a trip to Toronto.

The morning after I arrived, I went down to this little

café for coffee.

The barista asked me, “Where are you from, eh?”

To which I replied “I’m from Monterey California.”

Then he asked, “Monterey, eh? Beautiful down there.

What can I get for you?”

I said “I’ll take the largest latte you have, please.”

She said “oh, you want a lot, eh?”

And I said “no thank you, just the latte.”

Guide to Local

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APPLIANCE REPAIR

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To Advertise on Top Notch:

Email sales@foolishtimes.net or call 831.648.1038


September 2020 // 23

MORE MORA!

Joseph Jacinto ‘Jo’ Mora (1876-1947)

Thanks to Peter Hiller, Jo Mora Trust Collection curator, For information and educating

people about this impressive artist. Image courtesy of the Jo Mora Trust Archive

Jomoratrust.com


24 \\ Foolish Times

To Advertise

on the Cork

Board Call:

648.1038

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