Transit of Venus - What Does it Mean?

The Internet has gone berserk since the announcement that NASA will podcast the Transit of Venus.

My Uncle Harry swears they will find out that the alleged planet eclipse is really ghostbuster, Harry Houdini, returning to Queens, NY, after traveling the universe trying to find his way back. He is convinced that the red dot NASA saw in its telescope flickered Morse Code that spelled “Rosabelle.”

Of course, you can’t believe everything Harry says, especially after he drank a whole bottle of champagne anticipating getting Houdini’s first postmortem autograph.

“Imagine what it will sell for on eBay!” Harry bellowed.

“Harry, I don’t think champagne mixes well with your Viagra. The blood rush has gone to your head.” I said.

“Oh, shut up!” He responded, as he frantically Googled all the latest news on NASA.

“Look at this,” he said, “Some fool thinks that NASA will also make some announcement about one of Saturn’s moons. I got a moon right here.” He patted his butt with a smirk on his face.

“You’re both fools, if you ask me,” I said. “No way it’s Houdini either! It’s probably a hoax by NASA hoping that it gets more funding to find creatures like E.T.”

“Everybody knows E.T. isn’t real,” Harry said.

“Yes, and everybody also knows that Houdini has really been dead for 86 years and hasn’t phoned home. Not even once!”

“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” he said, while humming the subtitles from Houdini’s ‘The Man From Beyond.’

“Maybe Steven Spielberg should start funding NASA,” I said.

“I found it!” Harry jubilantly exclaimed.

“Found what?” I asked.

“NASA’s mysterious red dot.”

© 2010, Valenta, All rights reserved.

To read my column Skinny Dipping click here

To buy my book “Sitting on Cold Porcelain” click here

There Will be no More Chrusciki for President Obama

By Rose A. Valenta

The flag was flying at half-mast at The Kielbasa Factory in Rockville. Everyone was in mourning for the incompetence that has finally settled in the White House.

“There will be no more chrusciki for President Obama,” a spokesperson said.

Gone are the days, when someone like Henry Kissinger was hired to proofread Presidential speeches to avoid public embarrassment. That funding was cut as soon as G Dubya was permitted to say words such as "misunderestimate," "hispanically" and "subliminable;" using the excuse that he was just being himself, like Mark Twain presented the unedited version of himself. They called it the Twain Budget Cut.

Listen to the speech: Click here

The Action News crew members were standing outside the Pierniczki Shoppe asking what they thought about Polish Prime Minister, Donald Tusk's, reaction to Obama’s unedited speech.

“Obama’s been drinking too much Zywiec,” one of the customers said.

“What has he been smoking?” another asked.

"Maybe there was something in the Krupnik!"

Afterward, at a press conference, Obama was trying to explain the gaffe, when a member of the Polish press asked him if he resented his country for not wanting him reelected in 2012:

Occupy Nightmare

By Rose A. Valenta

Gauging the increasing vertical wind shear with his famous Cockatoo comb over, Donald J. Trump looked me straight in the eye and asked, “If you are elected President of the United States, what measures would you take to wipe out our national debt?”

He had decided to hold presidential debates at Zuccotti Park, following the swimsuit competition in Iowa, because the rest of the country was beseiged with political sex scandals, embarrassing gaffes, and unimpressed voters. Protest signs in the Park displayed pictures of the Grand Old Party (GOP) candidates and a single word that reflected the general consensus of the crowd, given the choices - “Meh!”

The political yammer was now between me and an ex-hooker from the Bronx; the wind shear developing perpendicular to The Donald.




Photo: Sulphur-crested Cockatoo, Wikipedia
“Two strategies come to mind that I believe will reduce the pork fat while simultaneously wiping out our national debt:

First, while outsourcing has become a popular way for large companies to save money, poor states like Delaware have been overlooked. A man working at a factory job in New York earns twice as much as a man doing the same job in Dover, Delaware, where the pay is equivalent to salaries paid in Beijing, China. I suggest that more companies be given a stimulus to outsource work to other companies in underdeveloped cities across America. The product could then be labeled properly ‘Made in America,’ and everyone would be happy, including the poor fellow bent over in Dover, who will be appreciative and vote for me in November.”

The crowd cheered loudly. Ten fellows, who were holding dollar bills for my opponent, gave them to my campaign manager instead. He put them under his Hello Kitty belt buckle.

“Second, I would advise the slugs in Congress to consolidate. States like Rhode Island with only four electoral votes can be easily merged into States like Massachusetts, which has 13; Vermont can go to New York; New Hampshire to Maine; and so forth, until we evolve into an economic Godzilla. Then, we can go overseas and stomp on China for pirating, bootlegging, and violating US copyright and trademark laws. We should then be able to raise about $17 trillion just on the booty that we find in Shanghai.”

More cheers and shouting came from the crowd. Even my opponent was shaking her booty.
Someone started to shake me.

“Wake up, wake up!” my paramour shouted. “Were you having a nightmare?”

Utterly disappointed that the whole experience was based on an underdone potato, I asked the typical morning after question, “What did I say?”

“You were screaming something about not getting 10,000 signatures for the Dover ballot.”
“Was that before or after I invented the GOP drinking game ‘Webster Says “Newt” Means Salamander’?”

© 2012, Valenta, All rights reserved.
To buy my book “Sitting on Cold Porcelain” click here

Politicians – The Mutants in Darwin’s Theory

By Rose A. Valenta

Uncle Harry came over for breakfast this morning. I was making corn fritters with maple syrup and the aroma travelled across our water-logged backyard into his bathroom, while he was getting a load off his mind.

He is not supposed to eat corn. The doctor told him that he has diverticulitis; he can’t digest American politics either, but Harry never listens to anyone.

This morning, he made divots in my yard with his flip-flops and walked into my kitchen looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Got any left?” He asked.

“You know that you are not supposed to eat them.” I responded.

“Everything in moderation.” He said.

He had The Washington Post folded under one arm.

“That’s why you have diverticulitis.” I said. “You’re obsessed with politics.”

“I like to hit the newspaper with a bingo highlighter.” He said. “The ones with the orange dots should have gone to school to learn how to track manta rays, instead of majoring in political science.”

“Look, I know its gearing up for another down-pour, but can’t you call Dick to come over and play cards or something, instead of reading the Post? You guys like Uno and I’m not up to your political rants today.”

“I think you might be interested in what the Jane Goodall Research Center had to say about Romney’s high school bullying this morning.” He said.

“What, he’s being charged? The statute of limitations has run out on that one.”

“No, he’s in a modern hunter-gatherer group,” he said.

“Well, we all know that politicians are primates.”

“Seriously, lookey here:”

Read News Article

“Nice.” I said. There’s a mutant in Darwin’s theory.”

“Did you notice, ever since the Republicans voted against Santorum and the Democrats advocated gay marriage, people are into bipartisanship?” he asked. “And look, Biden thinks he’s working for President Clinton.”

“Harry, don’t get caught up in crazy. Do something bipartisan and let the cat out, before he pees on your dry flip-flop.”

Did The New York Times Inadvertently Find a Solution to Childhood Obesity?

by Rose A. Valenta

I was on YouTube yesterday, when I happened to see this terrific holiday video uploaded by The New York Times in 2006:

This morning, my friend, Erik Deckers, posted a rant on his blog Erik Deckers Laughing Stock about schools canceling bake sales because of childhood obesity. As a parent, he was angry that the school overstepped its bounds. I tend to agree with him.

Then, I began thinking about all the jump rope songs of my youth and how we used to play double dutch in the school yard during recess and after class:

I asked my mother for fifty cents
To see the elephant jump the fence
He jumped so high
He reached the sky
and didn't come back 'till the 4th of July

Cinderella dressed in yellow
Went upstairs
To kiss her fellow.
By mistake
She kissed a snake
How many doctors
Did it take?
Pepper: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10

Okay, so the lyrics are antiquated circa 1950s; but think about it. Why make food tasteless by removing all the “unhealthy” ingredients because some parents don’t encourage their kids to get outdoor exercise? I don’t know about you, but I’m rather fed up with food that tastes like cardboard. Real whipped cream has become an endangered species. I can still remember watching my grandmother make whipped cream – it was delicious and none of us were fat.

First, she would make jello; then she got out a mixer bowl and poured in the heavy cream. She added a teaspoon of vanilla extract and turned on the mixer. As soon as light peaks formed she began adding the sugar. Just before the whole thing turned into butter, she stopped the mixer and let us lick the beaters. After she put all the whipped cream in a refrigerator container, we got to fight over the mixer bowl. It took all of 10 minutes to make whipped cream and you just can’t beat the flavor.

We would then, run outside with visions of that night’s dessert running through our heads and put on the roller skates, or play jump rope, or ride our bikes, or play basketball. There were no calories left to put on weight.

At dinner, we ate healthy food and had dessert. If the sun was still out, we rounded up neighborhood friends and got more outdoor exercise; if not, we played interactive board games or cards. Then, we put on some Rock ‘n’ Roll and danced. We squeezed in the homework.

The Obama administration is going about wiping out childhood obesity all wrong. They should take a lesson from The New York Times and enlist the support of the entertainment industry. Someone like Cee Lo Green to cut a hit Jump Rope Song of the millennium:

I had a contraband turtle.
His name was Tiny Tim.
I put him in the bathtub
to see if he could swim.
He drank up all the water.
He ate the bar of soap.
He woke up in the morning
with a bubble in his throat.

or…

Yo Mama teeth so yellow
She can’t even get no fellow
How many tubes of toothpaste
Would it take?
Pepper: 10-20-30-40-50-60

Please, Mr. President, bring back the real whipped cream!

If You Are Not the Lead Dog, the View Never Changes

"If you are not the lead dog, the view never changes" ~ Robert Benchley

This famous quote first uttered by Robert Benchley, and later immortalized by Lewis Grizzard, is the inspiration for the newly formed Philadelphia Chapter of the Robert Benchley Society - "The Lead Dog."

If you live in the Philadelphia area (virtual proximity is accepted) and would like to join, please submit your membership dues (only $10) and inform the President of the Robert Benchley Society that you are a Lead Dog. Meetings are held informally at no special time for cocktails at a destination of choice (majority vote rules). Dress is 1920s-40s attire, or not.

It has been documented that before graduating from Harvard in 1913, Mr. Benchley took a position at a civil service office in Philadelphia. After graduating, he went to work for the Curtis Publishing Company.

Join here

The Robert Benchley Society discussion group is on YahooGroups at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Benchley/

Please join us!

Limbaugh Responds to Contraceptive Controversy

"So, there I was on a blind date with a guy from Budapest at Le Bec Fin. There was no window in the ladies room to climb out, so I had to sit there and watch him perform a Fred Flintstone on the cuisse de poulet..." ~ Sitting on Cold Porcelain.

Are you sick of politics and the onslaught of primary fiascos, like the GOP drinking game "Let's Not Tell Rick Perry Where We Are Going Next"? Does it scare you that the only Republican candidate that seems experienced enough for the job is Newt? I still can't bring myself to vote for someone, who is named after a salamander. Somehow, the connotation scares me. Then you have to wonder - how many First Ladies will we have if Romney wins?

Plus, you have to consider that Ron Paul still thinks an Afghan is something made of granny squares that you throw over the back of a sofa.

Then, there are the birthers, who want to see Romney's birth certificate because they are convinced he is an illegal alien, born in a Mormon colony in Mexico, near the Sierra Madre.

Last, but not least, is Rush Limbaugh's radio response to the contraceptive controversy:



Here is an alternative, you can buy my book for $2.99 at Smashwords.com, stay home with a nice beverage, and enjoy yourself. Yes, it is in Kindle, Nook, Sony, eBook formats, as well as PDF and others.

Reading my book is equivalent to watching about 162 standup comedy routines. I have a parrot named Peg Leg Pete, yes he is disabled. He makes an appearance in one essay because he only knows two words "Who Dat?" It came in handy while we were champing at the bit for Super Bowl 44 two years ago, before my husband got all upset during the power outage just before kick-off. Yep, he was so upset that his testicles receded and he was rolling around in front of the powerless entertainment system in pain. Is there a cure for that? Nullo modo!

You will also enjoy the "No, Virginia..." letter that was sent out around Christmas time because Frosty The Inappropriate Snowman was bragging about having a porn collection, rather than remaining in character with a cute button nose and corncob pipe.

Then, we all enjoyed watching Obama bitch-slap Congress during his State of the Union Address and Joe Biden told the press where Cheney's "secret undisclosed location" was because a reporter got him drunk. You know how that goes, "candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker."

Did I sell you yet?

Okay, you've already seen the Numa Numa Guy, right? ("Nu ma, nu ma iei, nu ma, nu ma, nu ma iei"). My friend, Annette Giordano, gets ticked off when she watches The O'Reilly Factor and Bill won't let his guests get a word in, so she gets frustrated and does an Italian Numa Numa Guy in front of the TV, right in his face. She is only one of the weird friends I have.

Then, there is my grandson, who began to learn about life during the Clinton Administration. You remember that media fiasco 24x7. He was doing homework in front of the TV and comes into the kitchen asking us all about protractors, sexual harassment, and oral sex. Yeah, well, he recently managed to CLEP a sex test and found John Edwards on YouTube.

The close
Are you wondering what event made our economy go to the dogs?
It didn't happen overnight. It has taken decades to sink our economic ship.

What was the first leak in the bilge?

Actually, it all started in 1944, when our Democratic President, FDR, sent a Navy destroyer to the Aleutian Islands to pick up his dog, Fala, who promptly peed in the bilge with excitement at a taxpayer cost of $20 million.

Sold?
Click here to order it for $2.99 (less than a gallon of gas) at SMASHWORDS, in all digital formats: Kindle, Nook, eBook, Sony, PDF, etc.

You really don't want to miss reading this book.

As if that isn't enough, I teamed up with Giovanni "G-MAN" Gelati and produced a digital short story for you. It is a face-off in a Philadelphia comedy club titled "Dueling Microphones."

Click here to buy it at The Kindle Store at Amazon for only 99 cents! You will love it!
We are trying to get it into the top 10, so help us out and buy a copy.

Thanks!

Rosie