Breaking Banana News: The Awkward Banana Insecurity Crisis

Based on the article “The Awkwardness of the Common Banana” by Lynn Plantain.

"Stop reading over my shoulder!" sai...

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” said the orange. “You don’t have a shoulder,” answered the banana, “cause you’re an orange!” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Often referred to as the “leathery berry” or “elbow of the bract,” the common banana has undergone many changes in cultural perception over the years.

First popularized in slapstick comedy with a near-sighted fool slipping on a banana peel, today the banana is widely known as a healthy monkey snack and tasty alcoholic mixer, resulting in a poor self-image and awkwardness for many bananas.

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Shoe Misfits



Shoes! (Photo credit: Cynewulf)

Ode to an Ill-Fitting Shoe

Cursed is the foot that’s born too thin.

Nary a shoe will the foot fit in.

If the shoe is too wide,

The foot will slide.

If the shoe is too tight,

A blister will smite.

What in the world can a lady do

To keep a foot safe inside a shoe?


Cursed is the foot that’s born too wide.

Always the toes will cramp inside.

If the shoe is too small,

The toes hit a wall.

If the shoe is too big,

The nails dig in.

What in the world can a lady do

 To keep a foot safe inside a shoe?


Cursed is the foot that’s born too short.

Nothing you do will give it support.

If the shoe is too long,

The toes ‘ll get lost.

If the shoe isn’t snug,

They get crushed on the run.

What in the world can a lady do

To keep a foot safe inside a shoe?


Sadly, I won’t know the answer to this.

My AA foot will never find bliss,

As most shoe stores like a wide foot fit,

Into the dark my sore sole slips.

How does your foot size up?

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Teleconfusion – TV or Not TV

Television set for Wikipedia userbox icons, or...

Television set for Wikipedia userbox icons, or other things. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Teleconfusion: An abnormal condition variously characterized by stupor, stereotypy, mania, and either rigidity or extreme flexibility of the limbs, resulting from watching too much television.

Through the Chaos

Through the Chaos (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You may have experienced one of the symptoms of Teleconfusion after watching The Apprentice, or America’s Got Talent or the recent season of Survivor.

Symptoms of Teleconfusion

  • Restless body syndrome: shifting positions from sitting upright, to prone, to flipped upside down on your head, a different perspective for watching the news.
  • Excessive trips to the bathroom to floss and pluck your eyebrows then yell at the glassy-eyed lunatic who stares at you like a pheasant under glass.
  • A kitchen safari: searching the cabinets, hunting for comfort foods, Cheerios and vodka, “The Breakfast of Champions.”
  • Incessant yammering, the result of mixing sugar and alcohol, unless the blather is emanating from the television and not your sputtering mouth.
  • Shaking your head like a bulldog. Drool hangs from your chin, stretching with each back-and-forth motion, a look left toward your husband, cowering on the couch, then right toward a sound bite dive bombing your ear.

The spittle grows to elongated Silly Putty proportions, then snaps, splattering the television, walls and hubby, catapulting him from the couch.

Howie Mandel says, “You are what this show is all about.”

Me? Is he talking to me?

Sharon Osborne adds, “I vote yes!”

To what? Hauling me off in a straitjacket?

Donald Trump sits behind a city block-long conference table, staring blankly with his high-end mug and low-brow talk.

“You know I think you’re great, Lisa. I’m great, too, because I’ve got more money than the U.S. Treasury and look terrific in this Persian rug glued to the top of my head. Lisa, I love you, but you’re fired!”

My right eye twitches. I wanted Lisa to win.

The medics storm the family room with a stretcher and backward-strapped suit.

“Hi Daddy,” I say, with a Cheerio stuffed in each nostril. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

My husband signs the papers. I bark at him like a Schnauzer, as they carry me out the room.

In the distance, Howie Mandel gushes, “Your life will never be the same.”

Howie was right! They locked me up and smelted the key.

Note:  Teleconfusion is a word my late father-in-law used to describe the effects of watching crap on television, a medium in which he worked for most of his adult life. He started in radio, directing Arthur Godfrey, and then transitioned into television.

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Mother’s Day Rap

I’m a mother with a son, two dogs and cat

I try to cook and clean but fail at that

After work, I want time to clear my head

But have to feed the dogs and cat instead

If they don’t get dinner, they get under my feet

When you fall on your face, it’s harder to scream


I’m just a gal with a job, a hubby and kid

Got no time for a facial or sweet spot to fill

Want a safe-room to hide from my family and pets

Sitting alone in the dark is as good as it gets


After the dogs and cat got food in their gut

Got to make an ingestible for my husband and son

If I don’t feed them, they get cranky and gruff

Don’t want a coup on my hands while juggling stuff

Cook is a four-letter word and meal is, too.

Can’t my family get their own damn food?


I’m just a gal with a job, a hubby and kid

Got no time for a facial or sweet spot to fill

Want a safe-room to hide from my family and pets

Sitting alone in the dark is as good as it gets


Gotta put food in the fridge or on the counter it sits

The stack in the sink needs a dishwasher rinse

I stick them on the shelf, as if a piece of puzzle to fit

If I put them in wrong, there’s no place for a dish

Want to push all the buttons and begin the soak

Before I stumble into hubby in the comatose zone


My son’s M.I.A., stuck in the World Wide Web

Outside, the dogs avoid the shock of the electric fence

Suddenly, the cat wants to be my friend

She shows it be scratching the counter’s edge

“Stop it!” I scream, then she hits the catnip

Hubby wakes up barking with the dogs, who want to come in


Oh, God, I don’t wanna open that door

I’ll never get a moment of quiet time du jour

Just want one day to clear my head of crap

That’s why I wrote this half-baked Mother’s Day Rap


I’m just a gal with a job, plus a hubby and kid

Got no time for a facial or sweet spot to fill

Want a safe-room to hide from my family and pets

Sitting alone in the dark is as good as it gets

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The Infinite Et Cetera, More Powerful Than the Next

The clerk yelled, “Next!”

Tesco punctuation

Tesco punctuation (Photo credit: cole007)

I stepped up to the counter.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

I stared at the seemingly infinite choices on the shelf.

“Well?” The clerk glared at me.

“Uh . . .”

“Hesitation is a sign of weakness. This is no place for the meek. You need fortitude to pick among all the items on the shelf. No guts, no turn. Time for you to step aside.”

I white-knuckled the counter, exhaled and then channeled the confidence of Brangelina. “I can do this,” I muttered to myself. “I’m ready,” I said.

“Too late. Next!”

I wouldn’t budge. Even the much feared tap on the shoulder from the customer next in line didn’t make me waver. “I won’t leave until I get what I came for.”

Grumbling from behind.

I glanced over my shoulder. The line had doubled in size since I had taken my place at the counter. I shrugged and turned to face the clerk.

The clerk glanced across the room. A sheen of sweat covered his brow. “Okay, okay. Just relax.” His gaze settled back onto me. “Fine. Tell me what you want, and then get out.”

A smile curved my lips. “Etc . . . ,” I said.

Et cetera I presume "etc..." is the ...

“What’s that?”

“Etc . . .  is the thing I’m looking for.”

“The power of infinite mores,” the clerk gasped. “My God, I didn’t think it was possible. Are you sure you don’t want a semi colon instead?”

“As soon as you give me et cetera, I will leave.”

The clerk’s cheeks blanched, as he whirled around to face the shelves. After searching from one end to the other, he grabbed something, turned and stuffed it into a bag.

“Is that it?” I asked.

The clerk nodded and stapled the bag shut. “Take it!”

I grabbed the bag and held it against my chest.

“Now, get out!”

“But I haven’t paid for it yet.”

“You will,” he warned. “No one gets an etc. without paying for it.”

A lump lodged inside my throat, as I followed the line out the door.

“You’re a fool,” shouted a man with a bulbous-shaped head. “We need boundaries.”

“That may be true for you,” I said. “But I always need something to look forward to.”

 What’s your favorite punctuation mark?

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Save the Wealthy – Sponsor a Billionaire!

English: Calouste Gulbenkin, Portugal oil bill...
Image via Wikipedia – I have no idea who this dude is.

After a bad run of luck on Monte Carlo, billionaire Todd Hedrick III needs your contributions to help him get back on his jet again.

For just $200 a week, you can help Todd maintain his lavish lifestyle and recoup the island he lost during a high-stakes poker game.

Todd, like other disenfranchised taxpaying billionaires, needs a warm island to escape to after returning from his ski chalet in Switzerland. His oceanfront estate in Malibu doesn’t offer the same medicinal benefits as a vacation bungalow on Bora Bora.

Every billionaire deserves a month in the sun. A change in scenery helps Todd clear his head of his assistant’s workload, from handling corporate takeovers to finding tax loopholes in the Bermuda triangle.

Isolating billionaires from the masses prevents them from compromising their immune systems, which leaves them vulnerable to catching a 99% cold. It’s critical for the 1% to function at 110%, 100% of the time.

Our billionaires will stay healthy and happy, as long as we continue keeping them at a distance and subsidizing their massive wealth. The economy doesn’t flourish when billionaires aren’t spending money on frivolous luxuries like plastic surgery for their bodies and homes.

Without the 1%, there would be no point at the top of the pyramid, which would ruin the symmetry of the chart.

Everyone knows that you can’t have a top without a bottom. It would be like a luxury liner without a bridge, a high-rise building without a penthouse, a wide-screen TV without a cable box.

Financial inequity is the only sensible solution for economic sustainability, a viable working system in which billionaires control society and the wealth within it. We can’t rely upon the 99% to dictate economic policy when they’re always broke and tired.

The wealthy must continue relegating the tough decisions to their heads of staff, allowing them to remain free-range billionaires, blissfully out-of-touch and unaffected by the declining wealth and financial crisis that plagues the 99%, smooshed beneath masses of ragged bulk at the bottom of the money heap.

Your $200 a week contribution also pays for . . .

  • Ketchup sandwiches for sweatshop laborers
  • Bank fees for offshore accounts
  • Dry cleaning housekeeper uniforms
  • Coat check for high-class hookers
  • Vomit bags for private jets
  • Shoes shine for just one shoe
  • Bus fare for migrant workers
  • Window shade operators
  • Suntan lotion
  • Ski wax

Contact for other ways that you can help the wealthy.

Disclaimer: Todd Hedrick III is a fictitious person and to the best of my knowledge, only exists in my head.

The Limbaugh Galaxy, a Strange Universe Far, Far, Away…


Captain we’ve entered the Limbaugh galaxy on a course bearing 666 at 275° toward the planet Dittohead.

Rush Limbaugh Cartoon by Ian D. Marsden of mar...

Image via Wikipedia


Ah, the overpopulated planet inhabited by pimps and sluts.


Yes, Captain. Back in the year 2012, King Rush, the supreme leader of Dittoheads, proclaimed contraception evil and banned its use throughout the kingdom. Women were forced to get birth control on the black market.

King Rush dispatched DEA officers to crack down on the illegal use of contraceptives, forced single women to wear ankle monitors, and tracked their movements by GPS.

Any woman suspected of slut activity was immediately apprehended and thrown into the dungeon in the right-wing of the kingdom.

Many of these women went mad from a life of abstinence; others joined King Rush’s harem and provided him with sexual favors, as well as Oxycontin.

Eventually, all the illegal contraband was confiscated and burned, which led to the population crisis plaguing the planet.


Maybe we should send down a search team to investigate.


I would recommend against it, Captain. Anyone who lands on planet Dittohead immediately becomes infected with the highly contagious Sectarian virus, which scientists believe is responsible for the maniacal ramblings and misogynist views of King Rush and the Dittoheads.

I have identified the source of the Sectarian fever to be an aggressive strain of the 21st century Pandemic swine flu and recommend we quarantine the Limbaugh galaxy and immediately set a course heading toward sector APBH.


APBH, Spock?


Any Place But Here.


Captain’s log, stardate 42254.7. We leave the Limbaugh galaxy without having explored the planet or interacting with the Puritanical misogynist life form.

I advise against the exploration of planet Dittohead, as we cannot risk infecting the universe with the highly infectious and incurable Sectarian virus.

Captain out.

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The Ten Canine Commandments

Jenny after breaking one of the Canine Commandments

  1. Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s leg
  2. Thou shall not chase the cat when she wanders into mutt air space
  3. Thou shall not abduct a sock, shoe or glove from a wedded pair
  4. Thou shall not kill a rodent and leave it fermenting on the bed
  5. Thou shall not blight my clothing with thy muddy paw prints
  6. Thou shall not bark whilst thy pet parents are soundly sleeping
  7. Thou shall not steal a meatloaf from the counter
  8. Thou shall not gut feather pillows on the front lawn
  9. Thou shall not feast from the cat litter box buffet
  10. Thou shall not lick my face after wiping thy ass with thy tongue

Please add to the list. The Commandments aren’t written in stone.