The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Attn: Ellen (6/20/18)



Back (apologies for my handwriting!)



The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

Can you imagine how painful and awkward and terrifying it would be if the following happened … An alien race came to visit planet Earth. But, wait, it’s Trump leading the greeting party. Guh.

But I’m not too worried, I’m pretty sure Angela Merkel would drop kick Trump before the meeting to knock him out.

Sincerely, OR @DumbFunnery

Why am I doing this?



A Love Letter

I’m only about ten months into this parenthood racket, and bound for trials and tribulations the likes of which I can’t yet fathom … but thus far, it’s all love, happiness, worry, and the only time I feel sad is when the kiddo feels sad. Dropping him off at daycare to see him look up, his face crumpled, his lips curling into a clear expression of sadness – I don’t like that.

But otherwise, it’s all love.

Every night my wife or I sing to him before bed (part of our bedtime routine) (… Really … We kinda sing to him all the time. After he finishes breast feeding my wife has a song, “you! are! a done-y-bunny! you are … a done-y bunny! done-y done-y bunny! done-y done-y bunny!” It even has dance moves to go with it.) Anywho, part of my modified version of ‘Over the Rainbow’ includes ‘I never want to be apart … mostly.’ Because I still do enjoy my down time, my do nothing time, sitting around with my wife just enjoying not moving, solo jogs, etc, etc, etc. I mean, I AM going to see the Han Solo this weekend (thanks, Mrs. Wife) and I’ll be, well, solo.

But! There is a heretofore un-experienced joy when spending time with him. I am writing this having experienced being up with him on and off from 1230 to 2 last night. He’s got a cough which didn’t quite wake him up but I’d settle to sleep then coughing fit, a brief bit of whining, silence … repeat. Eventually we got up, gave him drugs (sweet, sweet drugs) and then I held him to get him settled. While holding him I was treating to a bit of babble. It cracks me up. He has a different sleepy time babble which is a quiet, soft, almost whisper. And thank goodness it’s a whisper because his face is right up against my ear. But he whispered, ‘dada … da … da …’ (then you’d hear his mouth move but no words come out) ‘…da … dada …’

Today is Father’s Day, which is nice. That’s swell. We’re an overrated group, but it’s nice to have a day dedicated to cliches which are coming horribly true for me. (You know what excites me about this upcoming weekend? Trying to hang a kayak holder in the garage … oof. I’m so suburbia.)

My point is … it’s been a great joy being a dad. Again, he’s no teenager, and we’ve yet to experience something where *HE* is happy and *I* am upset, which will throw a new layer or add a bit of salt to this great big ball of love that took up residence in my person.

Celebrate love today, your dad, your kids, your friends, whatever. It’s a joy to feel such joy.

Thanks, kiddo, for bringing me that.

Russia is hosting this World Cup and is welcoming players with the warmth, kindness, and open arms we have all come to expect from Russia. Rumor has it Vlad Putin himself personally visited each Saudi Arabian player’s room before the first match. This reporter has uncovered a few of the friendly welcome notes Vlad HIMSELF wrote!

‘No one will remember you when you turn up dead, with a prostitute draped over your lifeless body. Good luck at the match.’

‘I have never seen a bear eat Saudi children, like yours, ages 7 and 12. I wonder what it would look like. Good luck at the match.’

‘It’s only a game. Life, that is. Yours, in particular. I like playing games. Good luck at the match.’

I think we can all agree that Russia has once again gone out of its way to prove that it truly is the best country to host the World Cup!


Rumor has it that before Russia’s second match, against Egypt, Vlad himself has organized for a trained bear to come and do tricks for the Egyptian team! The Egyptian ambassador had raised a protest until he was unfortunately taken ill, and he has not been heard of since being admitted to a hospital. We can hope for a speedy recovery, or else he’ll miss the bear’s tricks!

This reporter is excited about the bear, who is rumored to be able to do the following:

  • Juggle
  • Kick a soccer ball into a net
  • Carry a syringe with a nearly untraceable numbing agent that can last up to 24 hours
  • Hoola hoop
  • Maim on command
  • Pretend to read a newspaper while sitting on a mock toilet

The Egyptian team must be looking forward to this wonderful show from the world’s greatest country!


Uruguay will finish Russia’s Group Stage play, and the Uruguayans are heavily favored. Vlad, known for his sense of humor, light touch, charisma, and all around nice-guy persona, joked that he may have to have the entire team killed to let Russia win.

Doubled over with laughter, the jokester continued, saying perhaps he would even have the team’s family members killed too.


This reporter here needs help. Please send help. I want to go home.

But that’s not all, Vlad ‘tickles with words’ Putin then threatened everyone in the room with such funny jokes that we’re all held captive, in a sense, to his humor, and also in this very small room.


Good luck, World Cup competitors!

2018 FIFA World Cup.svg
By Source, Fair use, Link


Attn: Ellen (6/13/18)



Back (apologies for my handwriting!)



The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

A surprising development for me: I have realized a very real possible post-retirement hobby for me would be photographing birds.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Sincerely, OR

Why am I doing this?


Musical Monday

Apple sure can pick some catchy tunes for their ads. Here are four such tunes.





Check out this playlist

Check out all the Music Mondays

If I Was a Spy

Interrogator: We can do this the hard way … or the easy way.

Me: I’d like to hear a bit more about both options, please.

Interrogator: Well the easy way involves a nice, tall glass of milk and a doughnut and the hard way (Laughs darkly) … Well, it doesn’t.

Me: What type of doughnut?

Interrogator: … Listen. You’re paying attention to the wrong details.

Me: I said. What. Type. Of. Doughnut.


Me: Well maybe head to the backroom and ask what type of doughnut, eh chief?

Interrogator: No. We will torture you, or you will tell us what we want to know.

Me: Are you saying the milk and doughnut were a ruse?

Interrogator: Oh my God. Can someone else step in here? It’s like dealing with my child.

Me: Are you saying your child is out there somewhere, right now, eating a doughnut?

Interrogator 2: Ok Phil, let me take over.

Me: A guy named PHIL was going to torture me? That’s embarrassing for everybody.

Interrogator 2: I just ate a delicious doughnut, and now … I’m going to torture you.

Me: That had absolutely zero tension-building. Just awful … What type of dougnut?

Interrogator 2: Jelly filled.

Me: Oh gross. You want to torture me? Make me eat one of those. Blech.

Interrogator 2: You don’t like jelly filled? Are you crazy? Those are the best.

Me: Dude. No. Maple long john, not filled.

Interrogator 2: Oh sick. You’re a sick, sick man. I can’t torture this man … he’s already broken.


Epilogue: I escape, and go eat a doughnut.





Attn: Ellen (6/6/18)



Back (apologies for my handwriting!)



The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

It’s pride month which presents people with the wonderful opportunity to look at others and think, ‘truly, who cares who you’re attracted to?’

Sincerely, OR

Why am I doing this?


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