Here are some facts to share and some other things that would be great if true and factual. First the facts, ma’am.
Babies are born without kneecaps. (And some husbands have no spines. You know who you are. Yes dear, I do.)
Butterflies taste with their feet, which is why everything they eat taste like feet and why they stay so slim. I can see the next craze-The South Beach Feet Diet.
Cats have over 100 vocal sounds, yet our cat just whines in one constant high pitch.
In the last 4,000 years, no new animals have been domesticated. I guess after that shark petting zoo disaster in 1508 at the Moscow Sea World, they just quit trying.
If you’re an average American, in your whole life you’ll spend about 6 months waiting at red lights. And if you’re the average dumb guy, you’ll spend about 3 months waiting at green lights until someone beeps at you to move.
It’s impossible to sneeze with your eyes open. This is so you don’t see who you’re sneezing on. It’s a legal defense in case you get sued.
No word in the English language rhymes with orange, silver or purple. Hey, hey I got one! My Slurpee is grape purple. If I drink it too fast I’ll slurplee…all over myself. On second thought, I guess that’s still true.
The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket, not in his hand. It was also the invention of M&Ms that only melt in your mouth.
The sentence “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” uses every letter of the alphabet. Yeah, except 3. Huh! What? Never mind.
A “jiffy” is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second, unless it’s a woman saying she’ll be ready in a jiffy. Then it’s anywhere from a half hour to half a day, at least.
Women blink twice as much as men and dumb guys wink back thinking they’re flirting.
Here are some things that would be great if they were true and factual. If you play lottery numbers based on your family’s birthdates, you’re bound to win the big one eventually.
The good they do die old. This would sure reduce the burgeoning world population as all us bad dudes checked out early.
Freedom is on the march. Or limping badly in certain designated dictatorships around the world and in Connecticut, where its former governor just went to prison in Pa.
The actual real reason we invaded Iraq was to set up a democratically elected Islamic government that won’t turn radically religious later and hate us like the rest of the Moslems.
That children can run around their neighborhoods free and unafraid of sexual predators and drug gangs, like some of us baby boomers did in the ‘50s and ‘60s. The only warnings we had back then were from our mothers to be on time for supper or else…we’d just eat it later warmed up. My mother never knew where I was most of the summers of my youth and didn’t worry.
That all the fine folks on the Internet just want to be your friend and not crash your computer with worm viruses they send out hourly and that they want to meet you in motels miles away NOT to kill you or worse.
A nice big layer of body fat is not only attractive, but it’s good insulation that’ll keep you warm in the winter, cool in the summer and is doctor recommended.
That, as they say, love is in the air, instead of the usual hatred.
That when people ask you how you are they’re just concerned and don’t really want to get the dirt on you, so they can run you down later to their friends.
And finally, that all the world needs now is love, love, love and not AIDS’ relief, debt forgiveness and a tank full of gas that doesn’t cost an arm, a leg and a liver.
Saturday, February 20
Wednesday, January 20
IN MEMORY OF JACK T. RODDEY
IN MEMORY OF JACK T. RODDEY
It's been over a year now since you died, Jack. A year in the fog of disbelief, outrage and sorrow. Every day we miss your smile, your laugh, your compassion and your kindness to all you met. You touched many lives in your short life.
You were the best of us, Jack and the days are duller and the nights darker without you. Nothing will ever be the same again and we'd give anything, ANYTHING, to wake up on a day when you were still alive.
As your family and friends left the packed church at your funeral, your favorite song filled the air. Jack, you are our "Spirit In The Sky". We love you so much, you sweet sweet boy.
Grandad
It's been over a year now since you died, Jack. A year in the fog of disbelief, outrage and sorrow. Every day we miss your smile, your laugh, your compassion and your kindness to all you met. You touched many lives in your short life.
You were the best of us, Jack and the days are duller and the nights darker without you. Nothing will ever be the same again and we'd give anything, ANYTHING, to wake up on a day when you were still alive.
As your family and friends left the packed church at your funeral, your favorite song filled the air. Jack, you are our "Spirit In The Sky". We love you so much, you sweet sweet boy.
Grandad
Wednesday, January 6
21 Year Old Wisdom
Life is a kaleidoscope of nonsense, a grab bag of absurdities, with a crooked path strewn with crippled dreams, violated values, ravaged hopes and raped egos.
The distance between reality and illusion is negative mileage. A good healthy body gives about five to ten illusions per mile of life, not counting major
breakdowns such as marriage and death.
Illusion is the pregnant twin of reality and reality is the sterile mother of dreams and nightmares.
Death makes Life worth living.
Me- 21 years of useless existence to figure the above out.
My wife just found this folded neatly in a box of old photos. I'm no longer 21 and no I haven't a clue as to what I was really talking about here. What a whining ninny!
```````But, but ...somehow 40 some years later, it sounds about right.
The distance between reality and illusion is negative mileage. A good healthy body gives about five to ten illusions per mile of life, not counting major
breakdowns such as marriage and death.
Illusion is the pregnant twin of reality and reality is the sterile mother of dreams and nightmares.
Death makes Life worth living.
Me- 21 years of useless existence to figure the above out.
My wife just found this folded neatly in a box of old photos. I'm no longer 21 and no I haven't a clue as to what I was really talking about here. What a whining ninny!
```````But, but ...somehow 40 some years later, it sounds about right.
Tuesday, January 5
THE BEGINNING AND END OF FRIENDS
When you’re a child, friends are the most important people in the world to you, aside from your family. You can always take your family for granted because they are contractually obligated genetically to, at least, put up with you.
But everyone else is up for grabs. Other kids can like or loathe you based on your personality, a scary thought indeed. You can’t be your usual whiney little self like you are with your family. You have to be fun and loyal to make and keep friends.
When you start school the more friends the better to keep you from being beaten up by the bullies. If you can center yourself inside a phalanx of friends, then no one can get to you, so you and your lunch money are safe.
You need friends to find out what homework was assigned that you missed while joking around in class. You need friends to study with, in between pick-up football games and wrestling free-for-alls, if you’re a boy. If you’re a girl I guess you study, in between doing each other’s hair and toenails. I don’t have a clue here really.
You need friends to help you figure out the opposite sex, based on their bad experiences. However, once they turn to the dark and cuddly side, it’s too late because they don’t have any time left for you away from their beloved. It’s the break away jump shot of love. Three is one too many for a couple.
Then if your best friend marries, you have to wait till the glow dims and the bare bulb of reality hits him smack in the face, and he wants to talk to you about the trials and tribulations of marriage. Then you’re buddies again till the babies come. Once you marry, you can reconnect then. If you divorce later, all in-law friends are subject to change to enemies.
Making friends is all a matter of timing. You make friends the most when you’re alone and stuck in the same situation because everyone needs you too. It’s a matter of mass survival.
So you start off with your playground pals in grade school. This is a very democratic dynamic based solely on whoever’s friendly with you becomes you new best friend. The weeding out process starts in high school when social status and the cool quotient kick in.
Sometimes your grade school friends embarrass you, because they’re not as cool as your new high school friends, so you cruelly move on. Being not so cool yourself doesn’t matter, as long as your close friends are considered cool. That’s coolness by association.
If you go on to college, your new friends can come from anywhere. Your friendships broaden as you study to become a teacher, a doctor or a manager trainee. Friendships can become snootier based on parents’ income and your academics. New friendships can help you get future jobs, spouses and free meals after graduation when you visit them.
If you move on into the military and aren’t married, then it’s almost like first grade again as you’re all in the same boat or barracks. You can be sent anywhere to do manly things, even if you’re a woman. Separated from your home and family, your friends are all you have. But they’re the hardest to hold on to after you leave. Letters go unanswered, phone numbers get lost, visits are cancelled and e-mails just forward jokes till these friendships dry up too.
At work, friends are forced on you desk to desk, office to office or on the assembly line. It’s a series of fluctuating friendships, depending on outbursts and hurt feelings, until you retire. Even though you plan to keep in touch, without work in common, that fades with time, distance and other interests. At the end, you return to your family as friends and, as you lose friends throughout life, you could be reduced to watching “Friends” reruns so that you can again visit friends who aren’t related to you.
Finally, if you make it to a nursing home, you may not even realize who your roommate is as your mind downloads your childhood memories to keep you company with your first friends, mommy and daddy. Which makes you square with the circle of life.
But everyone else is up for grabs. Other kids can like or loathe you based on your personality, a scary thought indeed. You can’t be your usual whiney little self like you are with your family. You have to be fun and loyal to make and keep friends.
When you start school the more friends the better to keep you from being beaten up by the bullies. If you can center yourself inside a phalanx of friends, then no one can get to you, so you and your lunch money are safe.
You need friends to find out what homework was assigned that you missed while joking around in class. You need friends to study with, in between pick-up football games and wrestling free-for-alls, if you’re a boy. If you’re a girl I guess you study, in between doing each other’s hair and toenails. I don’t have a clue here really.
You need friends to help you figure out the opposite sex, based on their bad experiences. However, once they turn to the dark and cuddly side, it’s too late because they don’t have any time left for you away from their beloved. It’s the break away jump shot of love. Three is one too many for a couple.
Then if your best friend marries, you have to wait till the glow dims and the bare bulb of reality hits him smack in the face, and he wants to talk to you about the trials and tribulations of marriage. Then you’re buddies again till the babies come. Once you marry, you can reconnect then. If you divorce later, all in-law friends are subject to change to enemies.
Making friends is all a matter of timing. You make friends the most when you’re alone and stuck in the same situation because everyone needs you too. It’s a matter of mass survival.
So you start off with your playground pals in grade school. This is a very democratic dynamic based solely on whoever’s friendly with you becomes you new best friend. The weeding out process starts in high school when social status and the cool quotient kick in.
Sometimes your grade school friends embarrass you, because they’re not as cool as your new high school friends, so you cruelly move on. Being not so cool yourself doesn’t matter, as long as your close friends are considered cool. That’s coolness by association.
If you go on to college, your new friends can come from anywhere. Your friendships broaden as you study to become a teacher, a doctor or a manager trainee. Friendships can become snootier based on parents’ income and your academics. New friendships can help you get future jobs, spouses and free meals after graduation when you visit them.
If you move on into the military and aren’t married, then it’s almost like first grade again as you’re all in the same boat or barracks. You can be sent anywhere to do manly things, even if you’re a woman. Separated from your home and family, your friends are all you have. But they’re the hardest to hold on to after you leave. Letters go unanswered, phone numbers get lost, visits are cancelled and e-mails just forward jokes till these friendships dry up too.
At work, friends are forced on you desk to desk, office to office or on the assembly line. It’s a series of fluctuating friendships, depending on outbursts and hurt feelings, until you retire. Even though you plan to keep in touch, without work in common, that fades with time, distance and other interests. At the end, you return to your family as friends and, as you lose friends throughout life, you could be reduced to watching “Friends” reruns so that you can again visit friends who aren’t related to you.
Finally, if you make it to a nursing home, you may not even realize who your roommate is as your mind downloads your childhood memories to keep you company with your first friends, mommy and daddy. Which makes you square with the circle of life.
Sunday, December 13
CHRISTMAS CONTRADICTIONS
Christmas Carol big as a barrel, Sandy Claws- a mean fat lobster to make you pause and Rudolph the Red Nose Skunk, always drunk. Some Christmas symbols from an alternate universe.
The biggest birthday party on the planet is upon us from the Prince of Peace in a time of war. The contrasts and contradictions of Christmas are many. When you’re a child, ‘tis the most exciting time of the year with the twin titans- the baby Jesus and Santa Clause- ruling and pulling from opposite sides of the same coin.
There’s the sacred church service and religious celebrations when you’re supposed to sit silently and respectfully in reverence. Then there’s Santa Claus coming down your chimney with your North Pole presents. You’re so excited you can’t sleep and have been bouncing off the walls for weeks.
There’s the star of Bethlehem blazing the way to the manger and the TV weathermen tracking Santa’s sleigh on radar to right under your Christmas tree. There are the three gifts of the Wise Men and the millions of gifts of the Wal-Marts. There’s the Savior of Christianity and the savior of capitalism, where a good or bad Christmas selling season can make or break a corporation.
Without Christmas there would be no Christianity and without Christmas there would be no capitalism, as we know it, for big sales at the end of the year to make the profits. Without it, the stores would have to up the ante on Valentine’s Day and try to make it the biggest buying holiday.
Christmas is the season of love and family, but it’s also the season when the loss of loved ones can make it the worst time of the year for some. We tend to mark our lives in Christmases for better or worse.
Christmas magnifies and wraps our souls in wonderful warmth on a cold December day with family, friends and food. Or it can cast long shadows from the past and dim the light with our losses from divorce, divisions, distance or death.
Christmas is a return to home and family that you may not have seen since the last Christmas reunion. Like a magnet, it pulls the filings of a family together to its center and makes it whole again, if only briefly and brightly.
Christmas can be a time of joy and love or a trial of controlling and cruelty. Families are complex entities with an illogic, all their own, for spreading the most love or the most pain possible, sometimes at the same time.
Christmas gives renewed meaning to passive/aggressive, healing and humiliation, hugging and hatred. It’s the hot red shoe in a black and white world. It’s the pepperoni on the plain pizza. It’s the twinkling stars at night and the burnt out bulbs on the Christmas tree lights.
You start getting ready for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving, but somehow you are never really ready by December 25th. There is still so much to do that you can never do. There are cookies and Wookies, Star Wars’ toys and a joyful noise, hams and yams, fruit pies and bad ties, colorful lights and family fights, phone calls to make and biscuits to bake.
Christmas is a time to try to forget old slights and to remember all the soldiers fighting overseas whose main fear, after being wounded, maimed or killed, is to be forgotten in the crush and rush of Christmas, when they should be home for the holidays.
Then it’s all over for another year and you sit there staring at a frigid January with the credit card bill blues. But until then, Merry Christmas to each and everyone from us to you.
The biggest birthday party on the planet is upon us from the Prince of Peace in a time of war. The contrasts and contradictions of Christmas are many. When you’re a child, ‘tis the most exciting time of the year with the twin titans- the baby Jesus and Santa Clause- ruling and pulling from opposite sides of the same coin.
There’s the sacred church service and religious celebrations when you’re supposed to sit silently and respectfully in reverence. Then there’s Santa Claus coming down your chimney with your North Pole presents. You’re so excited you can’t sleep and have been bouncing off the walls for weeks.
There’s the star of Bethlehem blazing the way to the manger and the TV weathermen tracking Santa’s sleigh on radar to right under your Christmas tree. There are the three gifts of the Wise Men and the millions of gifts of the Wal-Marts. There’s the Savior of Christianity and the savior of capitalism, where a good or bad Christmas selling season can make or break a corporation.
Without Christmas there would be no Christianity and without Christmas there would be no capitalism, as we know it, for big sales at the end of the year to make the profits. Without it, the stores would have to up the ante on Valentine’s Day and try to make it the biggest buying holiday.
Christmas is the season of love and family, but it’s also the season when the loss of loved ones can make it the worst time of the year for some. We tend to mark our lives in Christmases for better or worse.
Christmas magnifies and wraps our souls in wonderful warmth on a cold December day with family, friends and food. Or it can cast long shadows from the past and dim the light with our losses from divorce, divisions, distance or death.
Christmas is a return to home and family that you may not have seen since the last Christmas reunion. Like a magnet, it pulls the filings of a family together to its center and makes it whole again, if only briefly and brightly.
Christmas can be a time of joy and love or a trial of controlling and cruelty. Families are complex entities with an illogic, all their own, for spreading the most love or the most pain possible, sometimes at the same time.
Christmas gives renewed meaning to passive/aggressive, healing and humiliation, hugging and hatred. It’s the hot red shoe in a black and white world. It’s the pepperoni on the plain pizza. It’s the twinkling stars at night and the burnt out bulbs on the Christmas tree lights.
You start getting ready for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving, but somehow you are never really ready by December 25th. There is still so much to do that you can never do. There are cookies and Wookies, Star Wars’ toys and a joyful noise, hams and yams, fruit pies and bad ties, colorful lights and family fights, phone calls to make and biscuits to bake.
Christmas is a time to try to forget old slights and to remember all the soldiers fighting overseas whose main fear, after being wounded, maimed or killed, is to be forgotten in the crush and rush of Christmas, when they should be home for the holidays.
Then it’s all over for another year and you sit there staring at a frigid January with the credit card bill blues. But until then, Merry Christmas to each and everyone from us to you.
Thursday, November 19
TEAMBUILDING TRAINING AND FUNERALS
We were in a traffic jam. You know the kind where, when it ends, there was no real reason why it should have been. There was no construction, cops or a wreck to tie us up. To destructively pass the time, we complained about the boss and the petty pointless bickering at work as we slowly drove to our teambuilding training.
Teambuilding is a way of overcoming the hostility between co-workers by building a winning team with balls, Styrofoam cups and games. At least, that’s the way it was taught.
The first game was to throw a ball all over the room to people, who then had to stand and say what they hoped to get out of the training. When my good buddy Lance tossed me the ball I baldly declared “The heck with team building, I want more hair!”
Next we were given a Styrofoam cup to invent different things to do with it. I thought of using it for drug tests or, after biting the bottom off, it would make an excellent mini megaphone. But by my turn these two were taken, so I had to feebly come up with a Styrofoam cup eating contest.
We were told that Douglas McGregor in 1960 first devised a teambuilding concept and presented it to General Motors, who turned it down. He then went to Japan where it was accepted and changed their bust economy to boom. So that today Ford and GM are facing bankruptcy, while Americans are buying new Toyotas.
The big American teambuilding success story presented was the Harley Davidson motorcycle company. Harleys initially were known for breaking down often, so their uneasy riders carried wrenches to fix them. In fact, the Harley wave to fellow riders was elbow bent with hand up high, like they were holding a wrench.
Harley’s new owners took a teambuilding approach. When a problem popped up on the assembly line, they shut it down to solve it in brain storming sessions, so they weren’t all revved up with no place to go. This was unheard of at the time, because traditionally an assembly line was never shut down arbitrarily in America. But the quality went up and the wrenches went away.
Finally, we had to tell an inspiring story about some team we’d been on once. I talked about the Sneaker Squeakers, our old last place in D league intramural college basketball team.
We couldn’t dribble, shoot or score and only won one game by forfeit. In fact, one teammate’s sole goal was to foul out, but he couldn’t keep up and was always in the wrong court where the ball wasn’t. But we were so bad and funny that eventually we gained a following, which included girls. So we considered our team a success with the qualities of incompetence and fun.
The day after the training I took the morning off at work to go to Harry’s funeral, my best friend’s father. When I saw Harry lying there in his bright red plaid shirt looking like a large wax dummy I started to sob like some brokenhearted cheerleader. Everyone turned to look at me, since I was the only one crying. I’m a wreck at funerals.
The presiding preacher pumped the family for stories about Harry to tell, as he hadn’t known him. Then he gave a sermon about how if you go to church you’d go to heaven. I never knew of Harry going to church, but the minister assured us he was in a better place. Harry was a WWII vet and got a 21 gun salute send off, then disappeared from the face of the earth forever.
A funeral is the pause that depresses and makes puny are weekly worries. As we rush to our own funerals some day, the years fly by and the days blur like eye drops. I returned to work where a wrong look or word could create life long enemies, where hissy fits exploded like sneezes in the cold and flu season and where scheme building flourished. Back to the battlefield- INCOMING!
Rest in peace. See ya later, Harry.
Teambuilding is a way of overcoming the hostility between co-workers by building a winning team with balls, Styrofoam cups and games. At least, that’s the way it was taught.
The first game was to throw a ball all over the room to people, who then had to stand and say what they hoped to get out of the training. When my good buddy Lance tossed me the ball I baldly declared “The heck with team building, I want more hair!”
Next we were given a Styrofoam cup to invent different things to do with it. I thought of using it for drug tests or, after biting the bottom off, it would make an excellent mini megaphone. But by my turn these two were taken, so I had to feebly come up with a Styrofoam cup eating contest.
We were told that Douglas McGregor in 1960 first devised a teambuilding concept and presented it to General Motors, who turned it down. He then went to Japan where it was accepted and changed their bust economy to boom. So that today Ford and GM are facing bankruptcy, while Americans are buying new Toyotas.
The big American teambuilding success story presented was the Harley Davidson motorcycle company. Harleys initially were known for breaking down often, so their uneasy riders carried wrenches to fix them. In fact, the Harley wave to fellow riders was elbow bent with hand up high, like they were holding a wrench.
Harley’s new owners took a teambuilding approach. When a problem popped up on the assembly line, they shut it down to solve it in brain storming sessions, so they weren’t all revved up with no place to go. This was unheard of at the time, because traditionally an assembly line was never shut down arbitrarily in America. But the quality went up and the wrenches went away.
Finally, we had to tell an inspiring story about some team we’d been on once. I talked about the Sneaker Squeakers, our old last place in D league intramural college basketball team.
We couldn’t dribble, shoot or score and only won one game by forfeit. In fact, one teammate’s sole goal was to foul out, but he couldn’t keep up and was always in the wrong court where the ball wasn’t. But we were so bad and funny that eventually we gained a following, which included girls. So we considered our team a success with the qualities of incompetence and fun.
The day after the training I took the morning off at work to go to Harry’s funeral, my best friend’s father. When I saw Harry lying there in his bright red plaid shirt looking like a large wax dummy I started to sob like some brokenhearted cheerleader. Everyone turned to look at me, since I was the only one crying. I’m a wreck at funerals.
The presiding preacher pumped the family for stories about Harry to tell, as he hadn’t known him. Then he gave a sermon about how if you go to church you’d go to heaven. I never knew of Harry going to church, but the minister assured us he was in a better place. Harry was a WWII vet and got a 21 gun salute send off, then disappeared from the face of the earth forever.
A funeral is the pause that depresses and makes puny are weekly worries. As we rush to our own funerals some day, the years fly by and the days blur like eye drops. I returned to work where a wrong look or word could create life long enemies, where hissy fits exploded like sneezes in the cold and flu season and where scheme building flourished. Back to the battlefield- INCOMING!
Rest in peace. See ya later, Harry.
Sunday, October 18
CHESS MONSTER TAUNTS
CHESS MONSTER AT UNION SQUARE PARK, MANHATTAN- MOVIE “THE PASSER-BYE” TRYING TO GET A TRAUMATISED NEW YORKER TO PLAY CHESS WITH ME, THE HOMELESS GUY, WITH TAUNTS SUCH AS….
This is like fuckin’ a frigid women. I’m making all the moves here, Boris Spassky!
Hey Bobby Fisher, pigeons are gonna start sittin’ and shittin’ on your head, if you don’t start movin’ soon.
I’m going to hell eventually. Don’t make me late.
I’ve got garbage cans to go thru before I sleep. I’m fighting rats for my meals and the dinner rush is coming up.
I’d like to play a game of chess before global warming makes us all extinct.
Somebody set this guy on fire to make him move.
This is like a whole month in Bangkok, Bobby Fisher. We’re here to play chess, not make hemorrhoids!
Pretend this board’s a naked blond and make a move, Boris Spassky.
Hey, they’re bombing the Bowery; make a move before they start strafing Union Square.
My mother moved more at her funeral, than this guy. AND I had more fun.
I’m here to play chess, not think deep thoughts about stem cell research.
Hey, any signs of life over there, or are the brain waves flat lining.
This game of chess is like trying to find life on Mars, one water molecule at a time.
Hey Duffy Square, I got tickets to Mama Mia next decade, I don’t wanna be late.
Hey, I ain’t got all day, Bobby Fisher. I’m gotta panhandle the theater crowd.
Hey Ted Bundy, you’re killin’ me here. Pretend I’m a cute coed and make a move already.
Hey Betty Davis eyes, look at me! It’s your move, moron.
Boris Spassky, it’s your move.
Hey Bobby fuckin’ Fisher, it’s your move.
Hey Day of the Living Dead, it’s your move, motherfucker.
Grand Chess Master Flash, bust a move already.
This is like fuckin’ a frigid women. I’m making all the moves here, Boris Spassky!
Hey Bobby Fisher, pigeons are gonna start sittin’ and shittin’ on your head, if you don’t start movin’ soon.
I’m going to hell eventually. Don’t make me late.
I’ve got garbage cans to go thru before I sleep. I’m fighting rats for my meals and the dinner rush is coming up.
I’d like to play a game of chess before global warming makes us all extinct.
Somebody set this guy on fire to make him move.
This is like a whole month in Bangkok, Bobby Fisher. We’re here to play chess, not make hemorrhoids!
Pretend this board’s a naked blond and make a move, Boris Spassky.
Hey, they’re bombing the Bowery; make a move before they start strafing Union Square.
My mother moved more at her funeral, than this guy. AND I had more fun.
I’m here to play chess, not think deep thoughts about stem cell research.
Hey, any signs of life over there, or are the brain waves flat lining.
This game of chess is like trying to find life on Mars, one water molecule at a time.
Hey Duffy Square, I got tickets to Mama Mia next decade, I don’t wanna be late.
Hey, I ain’t got all day, Bobby Fisher. I’m gotta panhandle the theater crowd.
Hey Ted Bundy, you’re killin’ me here. Pretend I’m a cute coed and make a move already.
Hey Betty Davis eyes, look at me! It’s your move, moron.
Boris Spassky, it’s your move.
Hey Bobby fuckin’ Fisher, it’s your move.
Hey Day of the Living Dead, it’s your move, motherfucker.
Grand Chess Master Flash, bust a move already.
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