Month: July 2012

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Paraprosdokian Of the Week

A Friend sent me a list of these. I thought it would be fun to share them

Paraprosdokians are phrases or sentences that lead us down the garden path to an unexpected ending.

War does not determine who is right – only who is left.

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Trip Day 3

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Here we are.

We arrived in Boulder where it is hot & sticky. 5 minutes ago it was raining which of course was just enough to turn the dust on the car into mud.

That’s bad enough… But a few minutes of rain on hot asphalt was like dumping the ladle of water on the hot rocks in a sauna.

The humidity is now worse than anything I ever saw in FL.

As evening falls it will probably cool off… but not by much.

I was so focused on getting here that I didn’t stop to take any pictures yet today and probably won’t.

Tomorrow I’m sure that there will be time to wander and do the photography thing.

In the mean time… I’ll share some of the other photos from the fort yesterday.

The lady giving the tour was sweet and even though it was very hot the poor dear would hear nothing of cutting the tour a little short. She is 80 and while she may not walk fast, she gets around that place alright. I was seeing signs of dehydration and began to be concerned about her.

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At the end, I shook her hand and wished her well. I also suggested that she go inside and have a nice cool drink of water.

I have to give the LDS church a lot of credit for this too. Everyone has a wonderful work ethic, and the church does find ways for their elderly to be useful for as long as they wish to or are able.

I have a lot of respect for that.

No, I’m not likely to convert… They’d have a hard time with any number of aspects of me.

I do tend to ask too many questions.

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How to torture a professionally trained musician…

I’m in Grand Junction Colorado.

My Traveling companion and I went to an Applebees for dinner. You know… you only want to eat junk food for just so long before you want a salad and steak.

So in we go and the place is pretty busy, but we get seated pretty fast. As we sit down I’m presented with one of those things that really bugs the crap out of me. 4 or 5 different languages being spoken loudly all within earshot. I don’t know why it just makes me a nut job. I know that part of it is my locking onto the parts of those languages I do understand and then thinking all the other stuff I should understand and well … That’s my problem! You know… one of many!

All this annoyance about the hodgepodge of languages pales as the night entertainment begins to sing.

He calls himself “Wailin Willey” and well, I’ve heard better sounds from a cat whose tail was caught under a rocking chair.

Suddenly I can no longer hear all the languages around me… HELL I can’t even hear my traveling companion across the table.

Speaking of which…

You’d have thought that something foul and diseased had just been delivered as the main course. I thought he was going to get up and strangle the lame assed singer.

I know “Wailin Willey” was seriously sucking but hey what could I do? I mean we’d already ordered! I simply chose to ignore the “music” as if I was in a machine shop where all the air ratchets were vein used at once… (Been there, a preferable experience by the way to hearing Wailin Willey)

As we were discussing in loud voices so that we could hear each other over the Wailin the fact that we could not now leave… a lady at the table behind Jerry asked the waiter for earplugs and some ketchup.

At which point I busted up laughing!

I suggested that perhaps Willey could have a unlikely freak accident involving a slip & fall situation which resulted in the microphone cord being wrapped several times around his neck and the microphone ending up in an unlikely orifice. A subsequent tragic tripping over his untied shoelaces would find poor Willey accidentally strangling himself with his sound system. I think there’s an allusion to one being hoisted by his own petard in there somewhere…

Finally AFTER almost 40 minutes we got our food and less than 20 minutes later I was out the front door of the place.

But I learned something…

If I ever want to torture a classically  trained professional musician, all I have to do is find the shittiest singer I can whose playing in a small venue. Then take my musician friend to the place and buy them watered down well drinks.

I figure after about two hours of that… My musician friend will be compliant to just about any deviant whim.