Harrumph File #031 08.30.2010_ Baby on board

I think that says it all.

As you know by now, there are some things I just can’t stand.  Well, I mean besides the evil Chinese commies and all their evil, twisted plots.  There are things out there and people out there that are, well, just plain stupid.  For example, remember when those “Baby on Board” signs came out, last century?  If you don’t remember then let me explain: They were these little signs that were designed to look like yellow “caution” road signs.  They said “Baby on Board” and had small suction cups on them so that you could put them in your back window, alerting other drivers who would then be careful driving around your baby-carrying vehicle.  Of course, the drivers still left the signs in the window, even when the baby wasn’t on board, because the drivers of said vehicles were idiots.  Baby on board signs…yeah, like I’m going to say, “oh, I’ll stop driving recklessly since they’ve got a baby on board. Once I get around them I'll resume driving like an idiot. ”  Most of those signs are so old that the “baby” is probably a 25 year-old crack-whore by now… and her parents are still idiots.  You know, you can still see them every now & then, usually on the back window of a Subaru or Prius…which piss me off in their own ways.  How about bumper stickers with printing so small that you’ve got to rear-end the car in order to see what the hell they say.  Or, other ones that are just plain stupid.  I just saw one the other day that said “I don’t need a war to power my bicycle”  i.e.: “no blood for oil” (I’ve seen that one before on old, polluting Volkswagen Beetles.)  Of course, this sticker wasn’t on a bike, it was on a car… powered by gasoline.  Hmmm… and the driver of this vehicle was wearing sunglasses… made of plastic… another product of oil.  And how about that bike of hers, that she obviously doesn’t ride everywhere she goes, made in a factory that is run by… you guessed it… fossil fuels.  If she really wants to make a statement then she should slap that bumper sticker on her left butt cheek and walk everywhere she goes.  That’s called “moral authority,” obviously something she is woefully short of.  And how about personalized license plates that are indecipherable to anyone other than the clown who bought it?  I mean, what the hell does RUN2SNM mean anyway? Oh, wait a minute, I just figured it out.  Damn, I’m pissed again.  Why are there so many dumb-asses in the world?  Dumb-asses like movie producers that make movies that switch to slow motion when the “action” starts, which makes it look like the hero can outrun a nuclear firestorm or a tornado; are able to slice thirty sword-wielding opponents into ten pieces each, while running up walls & ceilings; can “twist” bullets around someone’s head…while the guy they’re shooting around turns his head and actually follows the bullet as it goes by…really? C’mon, we’re not idiots here, quit treating us like a bunch of ‘tards waiting to climb on the short bus for another day of basket weaving at the halfway house.  This is how it would work in the real world:  1. Buxom chick in T-shirt shoots pistol while “twisting” the weapon to curve the bullet around guy’s head. 2. Bullet impacts said guy’s head and peels off half of it while continuing into the wall behind.  3. Dead guy’s body falls to the floor while the chick looks on in horror and vomits…all in slow motion.  4. Zombies break into room and devour buxom chick because she can’t actually hit crap.  Jeeze, why can’t they make good movies anymore?  And how about those idiots that video record themselves jumping off of roofs & landing on panes of glass or have their buddies kick them in the balls twenty times in a row?  What the hell is that all about?  You know, in forty years, if they’re still able to reproduce, all they’re gonna get out of it are a couple of grandkids that’ll think grandpa’s a moron.  Speaking of idiots that put dumb crap on the internet (stop laughing) how about those clowns that seem to think that they have to twitter every detail of their life?  “I’m sitting on the porch.”  “Having a drink by the pool.”  “Taking a crap before a round of golf.”  C’mon, not only do I not want to know about your personal habits, I don’t really care what kind of drink you’re having… unless it’s cyanide.  And then there’s golf.  Why this “sport” doesn’t piss off other people, I just don’t know.  I mean, unless it’s miniature golf.  Who doesn’t love “HappyLand Mini Golf?”  “You’re gonna die, clown!”  Ha ha, that Happy Gilmore is sure something.  I still think he could take that smarmy Bob Barker in a rematch (and probably that crummy Alex Trebek, too.)  Harrumph…

Harrumph File #030 08.23.2010_ I miss the Soviet Union

Yeah, they were bad guys...but they were our bad guys!

You know, I understand that they were the reason millions of people lived in fear of nuclear annihilation for several decades.  I know that they were the force behind the “duck & cover” drills I learned as a grade-schooler. I get it that they were the puppet masters pulling the strings of those devious VC rats.  But…I miss the Soviet Union.  I mean, having the Soviet Union around was…stabilizing.  You knew who your enemies were…they were those guys standing on top of the Kremlin watching battalion after battalion of tanks & missile carriers drive by on parade.  You know, “those” guys with eyebrows so bushy that even Brooke Shields would’ve been envious.  Ah, yes…a simpler time.  A time when hearing Barbara Billingsley say “Ward, do you know where the beaver is?” was as innocent as a newborn pussycat.  A time when everyone knew that when you were watching Batman and Robin beat the snot out of the Riddler & his henchmen it was really a metaphor for the U.S.A. beating the snot out of those vodka-swilling Bolsheviks.  Thank you, Adam West, for single-handedly defeating the “Evil Empire,” one tights-clad freak at a time.  Yes, a time when the worst thing happening in America was Bob Barker feeling up the new “Price is Right” girl backstage.  Ahhh, the good ‘ol days.  Don’t laugh, I mean, what have we got now?  Where can you point and say “There.  There are the bad guys.”  Russia?  C’mon, they’re just a blind wraith of their former selves, stumbling through the night looking for a handout to keep them going until their next fix.  You know, hiring a James Bond look-alike as your President (or premier, or whatever) ain’t gonna make you cool.  Face it, most of your former republics have signed on as full-fledged members of NATO.  If we fight now, they’re on OUR side.  Nah, they’re just a joke of a country now.  They’re the place where Parisian mimes take vacations, because even mimes like to laugh every once in a while.  Al Qaeda?  Well, they have been a convenient target for the past 9 years.  However, by now President Bushs’ brilliant strategy of invading Iraq, thus drawing 99% of their warriors into a nice, clean killing zone…and killing them, has run its course.  We’re kinda left with a target-poor environment now.  Yeah, there might still be a few raggedy heads to count among the caves of Afghanistan, but they’re the bottom of the barrel.  They’re like the Volkssturm trying to hold off wave after wave of fresh, new Sherman tanks rolling into the Rhineland.  Didn’t work then, won’t work now.  I mean, the guys they’ve got left can’t even set their shoes on fire.  And, Bin Laden?  Well, in case you haven’t heard, Disney just installed his ramshackle skeleton in their Pirates of the Caribbean attraction, right next to the drunken pirate sharing a bottle of hooch with a couple of pigs.  We’ve taken out so many of their top generals that they’ve got corporals running their “army” now.  And you know how well that worked out for the Germans!  Speaking of the Germans, could they be the new evil empire?  Well, maybe they’re not the bad guys right now, but if I were you, I’d keep an eye on ‘em.  Always watch the Germans…  So who’s left?  Yep, you know it’s those sneaky, evil ChiComs.  Except, this time we don’t have an adversary right in front of our face like the Soviets were.  Ok, so actually they were behind us…like, 10 years behind us.  Have you ever seen their space shuttle?  We were flying ours for years before they rolled theirs out…which, coincidentally, looked almost exactly like ours…hmmm.  I say “almost” because theirs looked like one of ours, except put together by a committee of 5 year olds out of used Popsicle sticks.  So, those evil Chinese commies are the “new” Soviets…except sneakier.  They won’t stand up & slam a shoe on a pedestal, screaming “We will bury you!”  They work behind the scenes, selling us crappy toys to divert our attention while greasing the palms of a Clinton or two to get the latest submarine propeller technology.  Waiting until countries collapse into a hundred different “-istans,” and then offering to “take that incomplete aircraft carrier you can’t afford to finish anymore off your hands”…at rock-bottom prices.  Buying so much of another country’s debt that when they decide to move on Taiwan they’ll have a little leverage to force that country’s navy to stay in Pearl Harbor…ooops, didn’t mean to say THAT out loud.  And the Olympics just aren’t the same either.  You could always count on hating the Soviet athletes because everyone knew that east bloc judges just flat-out cheated.  A Russian ice skater could land right on her ass after blowing a triple-sow-camel-axel-cow-thingy jump and still end up getting a clean “10” from every Warsaw Pact judge…if they knew what was good for them.  Now, the ChiComs take a different approach to the Olympics…they train children in facilities akin to puppy-mills from the age of 2 until they’re nothing but Disney-like audio-animatronics, going through the motions with robotic precision.  Their judges can’t cheat like the Russians did because the rules don’t allow for same-country judges anymore, but you can sure motivate an athlete when you’re holding an AK-47 to grandma’s head.  And, yeah, maybe Russian Olympians looked like they’ve kissed the business end of a shovel once or twice, but they had it where it counts!  I mean, when was the last time you saw a Chinese diver with a huge rack?  The bottom line is that the two aren’t even in the same league.  Back “then” we had an “Evil Empire,” now we’ve just got a bunch of Chinese ghosts sneaking around, looking for an opportunity.  You know, if you look up “Evil Empire” in the dictionary it says “See: Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.”  OK, so that might not be true, but it doesn’t discount the fact that half of you reading this actually looked that up on “Dictionary.com.”  Boy, if only we had that “Evil Empire” now.  Just imagine it.  They always wanted to roll west.  Through the Fulda gap, right into the heart of West Germany.  Armies on the move.  U.S., British, German (for once on our side,) and the rest.  Navies trading cruise missiles, Marines storming the beaches of Yalta, MiGs getting blown out of the sky wholesale, righteous American bombers blasting Moscow & Kiev (& maybe Hanoi) back to the stone age.  Look, I’m not saying there wouldn’t have been a downside to it.  Would a war against the Soviets have cost billions of dollars to prosecute?  Yes.  Would a war against the Soviets have killed millions of innocent people? Yes. Would a war against the Soviets have devastated Europe for the third time in a century?  Yes…but it would have been glorious…Harrumph…

Harrumph File #029 08.16.2010_ “Opulence…I has it.”

“Opulence…I has it.”  Have you seen this commercial for DirecTV?  If not, then let me sketch it out for you.  You see this freaky Russian guy, obviously part of the Russian mafia, wearing a real smarmy gold sweater, walking through his house (which is adorned with paintings, marble, chandeliers & all kinds of expensive items,) past bodyguards & a pack of dogs playing poker.  He is, of course, flanked by chicks wearing fur coats and Rolexes, holding golden busts of himself that he selects “the best” from, because…he likes the best.  He’s even eating golden grapes.  Golden grapes?  Jeeze, you’d never catch The Rat Pack eating golden grapes.  Anyway, he also likes “savings the money,” so when he takes his golden TV remote off of the stack of gold bars one of the groupies is holding and turns on his TV, he tells us when he gets a good deal he “jumps in it.”  Then comes the worst part of the commercial.  He looks over, leans down, and gets a kiss from his…tiny, miniature giraffe.  Are you kidding me?  A tiny, cute as a button, iddy-bitty giraffe…sitting on a little, comfy pillow?  Now, I like DirecTV as much as the next guy but this is ridiculous!!!  A tiny giraffe?  A tiny giraffe dispensing kisses on demand?  I just can’t put up with this.  I mean, come on, DirecTV, this just isn’t fair!!!  Do you know that the first time that ad aired Google received more than 20 million search requests for “How can I get a miniature giraffe?”*  And, yes, I was one of those poor schleps trying to find out if I could buy a tiny, cute, miniature giraffe for my wife.  Of, course, to my disappointment, I found out that giraffes do not come in tiny, cute sizes.  They apparently only come in one size…monstrosity size.  And they’re not cute.  They’re slobbering, lumbering freaks of nature…unless they’re tiny…but they don’t come in tiny!  You know what else?  There are still people out there that think we have zoos for dinosaurs.  And why do people think we have real dinosaurs running around, opening doors & figuring out patrol patterns & tiny giraffes just waiting to give you a kiss?  It’s the movies.  Movies nowadays seem to rely on just one thing to attract audiences…super dooper special effects. Don’t get me wrong here; I like special effects as much as the next guy.  I mean, there’s really nothing like seeing a group of people running from a pack of zombies…they get cornered in a dead end alley…the zombies begin closing in, eye balls hanging out of their sockets, arms bitten off & cool stuff like that…shuffling closer & closer…until…yeah, until that “one guy” that everyone was making fun of at the beginning of the movie for “preparing” for just this moment, pulls out a 12 gauge and begins exploding zombie heads like they’re cans of Sherman-Williams best “fire engine” red!  BLAM!  Oh yeah, who wants in the bunker now, assholes?  I tell you what, if there’s a doctor with a nice set of jugs among the survivors, I think we’ve narrowed it down a bit.  Anyway, that is nothing like what you’ve got to process at the movies today.  There’s so much stuff flying around when two gigantic robots start fighting that you really don’t know where the good monster stops and where the bad monster begins.  I don’t know how many times I’ve heard some baffled kid, after the big fight scene, mutter to his parents “dad, did Optimus-floptimus win or did Gargantuus-giganticus win?”**  Here’s something that you may not know:  Do you know the real reason Star Wars Episodes I through III sucked?  No, it’s not because of that annoying “Me-sa Jar-Jar Binks” guy, the devil-child, or the fact that if Obi-wan really “loved him like a brother” he would’ve lightsabered Anakin through the head to put him out of his misery when he was laying on that bed of molten lava…instead of leaving him there smoldering & screaming in agony.  “Oh, but I will take this lightsaber that you’ve left laying on the ground in order to patch up a hole in the plot of Episode IV.”  Really? So, the real reason those “prequels” sucked is because the space fight scenes were as crowded as a trainload of Pakistanis fleeing from the righteous bombardment of our glorious air force  (Allies? C’mon!)  There were just too many fighters, too many laser blasts, too many little robots scuttling around cutting too many holes in too many parts of the spaceships they’re flying.  Ummm, why don’t the robots just cut a hole in the canopy?  Simple…because it would only have taken one special effect.  Face it, special effects guys are showoffs.  I can imagine some of them sitting around in a meeting eating skittles:  “Hey, I heard that ‘Transfloppers XII’ has a scene with 983 different robot parts flying through 347 degrees…in 3D.  Lucas says we have to beat that by 20% on our next production.”  Jeeze, special effects guys.  C’mon, everyone knows they don’t make robots with more than 350 parts total.  So anyway, now they’re making movies with realistic, cute, little animals and cool dinosaurs to grab our attention.  I tell you, it just isn’t fair.  How do you tell your kids that dinosaurs are extinct when they say “but daddy, I just saw them on TV and can I get one of the cute, little green ones for my birthday?”  So thanks a lot, special effects guys, for making the jobs of parents that much more difficult.  Oh, and there’s one last thing I have to correct that “opulence” guy on.  He may “like the best,” but the best “bust” on that commercial wasn’t made of gold.  Harrumph…



* This fact is not necessarily supported by actual data.
** Never actually heard in public.

Harrumph File #028 08.09.2010_ Border invasions! (Official Harrumph Files alert…this is not a test.)

THIS IS AN OFFICIAL HARRUMPH FILES ALERT!!!

ATTENTION!  ATTENTION! ATTENTION!  THIS IS AN OFFICIAL HARRUMPH FILES ALERT!  INVASION!!!  Sound the Civil Defense alarms!  Our borders are being overrun by illegals and the Border Patrol is doing nothing about it!!

People, arm yourselves and form your militia units, we’re marching to the border!!!  Recently, there have been several instances of grizzly bears crossing the border from (where else?) Canada, and attacking hikers and campers on the trails and in their tents.  Outrageous!!!…OUTRAGEOUS!!!!!  Yes, I kid you not; grizzly bears are actually running amok and attacking people in the lower 48!  Now, I thought that we had, by the 1970’s, pushed those slobbering, yellow-eyed, man-killing menaces back to Alaska, where they belong.  But noooo, apparently they have decided to test our northern border defenses (probably with help from those evil Chinese) while attention is focused on the millions of illegals (of another kind) waltzing across our southern border into the open arms of gibbering, slobbering “progressives,” distributing counterfeit green cards, pre-printed stimulus checks, and welcome baskets.  Anyway, check this out:  there’s this bear in Tokyo, or maybe Beijing (really, what’s the difference… to a cruise missile… muahahahaha!!!) that has learned to use a ninja stick! Yeah, it’s true!  I’ve seen this bear with my own eyes* sitting in his enclosure twirling a ninja staff around like a pro (or Jackie Chan.)  Ummm, hello?  Bears are arming themselves now?  WTF?  I even heard that thousands of “Mama grizzlies” are going to be marching on Washington D.C. this November.  WHA? They’re organized?  Dang, imagine that…thousands of pissed off, hungry grizzlies roaming the mall, eating tourists they capture on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial while…(rustling from off camera…more rustling…“I’m sorry, what was that?”  *mumbling* “Yeah, mama grizzlies…wha?  Just some political speech?  Ummmmm…yeah, I knew that…I knew ‘cause it was a silly idea anyway…I mean, just think of the transportation problems…thousands of traveling grizzly bears would require like 10 Amtrak trains & stuff…”) OK, so they might not be eating the politicians in D.C. (probably make them vomit anyway…) no matter how much we might want them to.  But they ARE ripping into the tents of ordinary citizens and devouring them.  What the heck is going on around here?  Can’t we divert a couple of predator drones or maybe an Apache attack helicopter and teach these bears to keep their stinking paws off of our pick-a-nic baskets?  I saw how Ranger Smith took care of that meddling Yogi by enlisting Peter Griffin to quietly stick that knife in his back.  Yeah, “smarter than the ‘av-er-age’ bear,” huh?  I don’t think so, Yogi.  Maybe it’s time we started eating bears for a change, huh?  I mean, check this out:  over at Panda Express there ain’t one single panda dish on the menu!  Yeah, they got some tasty chicken & shrimp over there but I want some panda!  Sweet & Sour Panda… General Tso’s Panda… Panda mu shu gu shu… I don’t really care, I just want some panda.  We’re making a statement here.  Speaking of making a statement, I’ve heard (through my contacts in the National Park Service) that even Smokey the Bear is going “gangsta.”  Remember the 1970’s commercial about pollution with the crying Indian?  You know, he wasn’t really crying because of pollution.  He was actually sad because he didn’t get in on the ground floor of that new casino they’re building over on Maple Street (or, as the native Americans used to call it: “Maple Street.”)  Well, I think there was a concurrent ad with a crying Smokey…standing there in a burnt out forest…maybe a baby deer ran by with a rabbit & skunk in tow, I dunno.  Anyway, the new Smokey the Bear ads are a little different.  I’ve seen the test footage.**  Imagine, if you will, Smokey the Bear standing in that same burnt out forest, but this time there’s no baby deer, no rabbit or cute skunk.  No, just a guy standing next to Smokey…could be anybody…still holding the butt of the cigarette that caused it all between his fingers.  Smokey turns to him, grabs him by the neck and, as his blood begins to boil & his breath begins to melt the offenders’ face, says: “I thought I told you that only YOU can prevent wildfires, asshole!  Didn’t you hear me?  DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?!!!!”  It gets kind of weird after that… yucky blood splatters…bone crunching noises…ear-splitting screams as Smokey says something like: “Now stand still while I eat your spleen…”  Dang…bears…commie, Chinese-inspired, hungry, pissed-off, ninja bears.  “Surely, you can’t be serious,” you say?  Well, I am serious…and don’t call me “Shirley.”  Harrumph…

* Not actually seen with own eyes.
** Not necessarily factually correct.

Harrumph File #027 08.02.2010_What the hell happened to all the hobos in the world?

The true face of American freedom!

So, what the hell happened to all the hobos in the world?  Now, I’m not talking about the homeless, bums, street people and gypsies.  You see, you have to differentiate between the various downtrodden peoples in order to understand them.  The homeless are usually families down on their luck.  They’re the reason we have shelters.  To give these people a helping hand until they can get on their feet.  Bums, well they’re those guys with signs that say “will work for food,” & then, when you offer them a day job, come up with a dozen reasons why you should just give them money and move along.  Most of ‘em should just carry signs that say, “Help me buy my next bottle of Mad Dog 20/20.”  Maybe then I’d feel better about throwing them a quarter…not!  Street people are those guys that either paint themselves blue or silver & stand on the corner acting like robots or open up their guitar case and play endless tunes from the ‘70’s, hoping people drop their spare change in exchange for them shutting up.  And gypsies?  Well they’re just…gypsies.  I think we all know about them.  Usually they’re in peasant dress, an earring or two and most of the time have a goat traveling with them.  Just lock your doors & you’ll be ok.  Hobos, though, are a different breed. These are the guys riding the rails in boxcars, wearing second hand suits with innumerable rips & tears in them, passing out folksy knowledge and singing tunes like “Jimmy crack corn” & such.  They are the true spirit of America.  Freedom, independence, self-reliance.  Now, before you start laughing out there, think about this a minute.  You might think that you’re so much better off driving your BMW convertible to your high-paying job downtown & living it up in your 7 bedroom home, watching that 95 inch LCD TV while sipping “Grey Goose” out of a hand-made, silver-etched, crystal glass.  But where would you be if, next quarter, that “Too big to fail” company you work for fails?  Um-hmm, No BMW, no TV & it’s a bottle of “Mad Dog” for your next birthday…if you’re lucky.  How about that hobo out there?  He’s happy with an expired can of beans and an old stogie he found in the men’s room at the local gas station.  Ahhh…freedom.  So this brings us to my initial question.  What happened to all the hobos out there?  Why is it that you never see “Boxcar Willie” riding the freight trains anymore?  I’ve seen plenty of freight trains in my time…not a single hobo sighting.  Now, I know that back in the thirties the railroads made a real effort to discourage hoboism.  Check out the 1973 classic “Emperor of the North,” starring Lee Marvin as the grizzled hobo “A-No.-1,” who dares to ride the “Number 19,” whose cruel conductor, “Shack” (played by the ever-versatile Ernest Borgnine [never saw the always jovial Commander McHale twist his face into a portrait of evil on PT-73 like he does on the “19” though!]) takes pleasure in “disposing” of freeloading hobos with chains, axes & wrenches…but always with a smile (or is that a grimace?)  Anyway, I don’t think that railroads can get away with that kind of stuff nowadays…not with all the rules about civil-rights violations & such.  So what happened to those freedom-loving souls then?  Well, think about it…who hates freedom out there?  No, not George W. Bush…Jeeze will you get over that already?  That crummy Alex Trebek?  No, he actually loves freedom…the freedom to laugh in your face and make a sarcastic remark about “how much money you actually owe to the show instead of winning it! Hahaha.”  Smarmy, crummy Alex Trebek.  AARRRGGG!!!!  So who’s left?  Yep, it’s those evil Chinese.  I’m convinced that it’s got to be an evil Chinese plot to stamp out the very foundations of freedom by eliminating every single hobo out there on the rails.  They won’t go after the homeless, bums, street people & gypsies because, as I said earlier, they are different than hobos.  The Chinese WANT you to see bums.  They WANT you to feel bad about the plight of the homeless.  They WANT you to pitch quarters in the guitar cases and the empty corn cans of the robot-people.  Every quarter you pitch is one more thought in your head that capitalism doesn’t work, that it leaves people behind & that evil Chinese-inspired communism is the only way to go.  We must fight this evil plan!  We must defeat it before they finally find that last ’Bo, hiding underneath the flatcar stacked with “XINHUA” shipping containers!  We must stop the hundreds of Chinese “Shacks” out there, sneaking around wielding wrenches or crowbars, before they strike into the very heart of freedom!  “But how,” you say?  How can we stop them?  What can you do to thwart the evil Chinese before the last fortune cookie is cracked and our fate sealed forever?  Take a vacation.  Yes, take a vacation.  But, leave your car at home.  Don’t bother to book a hotel or a flight to your destination.  Time to hit the rails, folks.  I for one am heading down to the local Salvation Army store for my supplies:  A good, second hand coat.  A pair of worn-out, wool slacks.  Maybe an old fedora they’ve had sitting on the shelf since 1957.  Tie up my belongings in a hanky hanging from a stick.  Ahhh…freedom.  It’s us or them people…stand together…stand tall against the evils of Chinese communism and sing with me!  “Old stogies I have found…short, but not too big around…I'm a man of means by no means…King of the road… King of the road… King of the road…” [Fade to black]  Harrumph…

Harrumph File #026 07.26.2010_ It’s high time we did something about cantaloupes

How can something so delicious be so wrong?

Ok, I’ve got to get something off my chest.  This particular item has been stabbing at my soul for a while.  Ok, maybe just a little while (like, since breakfast,) but that doesn’t detract from the seriousness of this issue.  We need to do something about cantaloupes and we need to do something now.  Yes, you heard me right, cantaloupes.  Think about it: CANTaloupe.  I mean, we’re Americans here, we don’t dwell on things that can’t be done.  We DO things here.  After all, this isn’t France.  You know, The “Rat Pack” wouldn’t have been caught dead eating cantaloupes.  There ain’t no “can’t” as far as The Rat Pack goes.  Therefore, I am starting a movement right here, right now.  These juicy, delicious melons should be renamed CANaloupes here in the U.S.  Let France do whatever they want, no one cares about them anyway (Well, ok, no one besides the Germans…they seem to care about what happens to everyone…The Germans…)  And check this out: What about honeydew melons?  You know, they aren’t called honeydon’ts for a reason. How about cantaloupes take an example from them?  Jeeze…cantaloupes.  I had heard that that crummy Alex Trebek was responsible for naming cantaloupes, but after researching the subject on the CIA fact book (and Wikepedia*) I discovered that cantaloupes have been around for a lot longer than that crummy, smarmy game show host (but not his ancestors…hmmm…)  European cantaloupes are the original offenders here.  Hmmm…just where in Europe could they have originated in conjunction with that smarmy Alex Trebeks’ ancestors?  There can only be one answer: France.  Yes, I’m sure it was someone named “Le Trebek,” probably a mime, that originally named them cantaloupes.  It all makes sense. France sucks.  Alex Trebek sucks.  China sucks.  The only thing that doesn’t suck here are the canaloupes themselves.  Mmmmm… canaloupes… mmmmm.  So what can be done to rectify this problem?  I must begin this next segment with an apology for those of you that are, well, more sensitive than I.  The answer is, of course, bomb France now.  Yes, bomb them, ‘round the clock…night & day…B-1’s, B-2’s, B-52’s and anything else you can strap a cluster bomb unit on.  Except, here’s the key: fill the cluster bomb units with North American Cantaloupes!  We can pelt those smarmy cousins of that evil Alex Trebek with our own “smart-melons” just like the French soldiers did against King Arthur in “Monty Python and the Holy Grail!”  We can even drop leaflets with the very same taunts that the Frenchmen used: “You empty headed animal food trough wiper.”  “I fart in your general direction.”  “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.”  Frenchmen…Jeeze, might as well be evil Chinese Warlords and you know how I feel about those evil Chinese.  Harrumph…

*Subject not actually researched.

Harrumph File #025 07.19.2010_ I can’t even pronounce Myanmar, why should I care about it?

Myanmar or Vietnam?  From 40,00 feet, who cares!

WTF?  Myanmar? WTF? I mean, just what the heck was wrong with the name “Burma?”  Does anyone know what the heck happened there?  No?  Well, as you probably guessed, some douchbag Burmese General woke up one day and thought “Hmmm, we just don’t get the international respect we deserve, I’ll take over the country and change our name, that way we’ll be the talk of news agencies worldwide!!!  Muuuhahahahaha!!!”  Unfortunately for him, the idiot overthrew the government the same weekend the Sega Genesis was released to the public and everyone was too busy playing video games to notice.  And, did anyone check with Rand McNally on this?  I mean, there’s a lot of maps that need changing here.  I dunno, why go to all the trouble?  And where did the name “Myanmar” come from anyway?  I mean, c’mon, if you’re gonna take over a country then come up with a really cool name.  How about something like Kickbuttica or maybe Illattackyouatthedropofahatstan.  You know, something to put fear in the heart of your neighbors.  After all, one of them is India and they’ve got millions of people just waiting to invade and take over (no, wait a minute…that’s the Germans *guffaw* silly me, what was I thinking?)  Anyway, back in World War II, Burma was the scene of intense fighting and one of the more important areas was the Burma Road, which we used to supply China, which kept her millions in the fight against those silly Japanese.  Think about it, if it was called the “Myanmarian Road” at the time, would smarmy British soldiers really have wanted to fight for it?  I think we all know the answer to that.  On another note, I’d also like to know if they’ve gone and changed the name of the Kwai River.  Now, for those of you that remember the classic movie “Bridge on the River Kwai,” starring William Holden and Alec Guinness, this is nothing to trifle with.  I mean, come on, Higgins from “Magnum P.I.” worked on that bridge! And, even though the real “Kwai” river (the Khwae Yai) is in Thailand (which, btw, should be renamed “Thighland”…mmmm) and not Myanmar, who cares? And, just what do you call people from Myanmar anyway? Myanmarese?  Myanmarians?  Dang, while you unravel your brain I’ll suggest something like “Myanmoronians.”  Yes, rather fitting, methinks.  So, who supports this monstrosity called Myanmar?  Well, you’ve come to the right place because The Harrumph Files has discovered, through a thorough search of the CIA world fact book (and Wikepedia,) that it has got to be those evil commie Chinese behind the whole thing!  It all comes down to trafficking in human beings and drugs.  Now, you might think, “why do the evil Chinese need people?  Don’t they have like, a billion or two billion people already?”  Well, yes they do, but they use most of them in the army and the rest have become too smarmy to work in Walmart factories, cranking out corn-cob holders and 5 dollar sweaters.  Now, this being a family show, I didn’t want to dabble in the sex industry part of the human trafficking, but your persistence has forced my hand.  Yes, apparently evil Chinese Generals and Walmart businessmen have a hankering for Myanmarian women.  But then again, who wouldn’t want a chick with 10 heads and 10 arms?  Oh, stop it!  Get a sense of humor already.  Anyway, 10 heads?  Jeeze, it’s hard enough getting them to shut up with just one head.  So anyway, what can be done about this…Myanmar place?  Well, of course my first choice would be to start the bombing right away but maybe some of you are too sensitive for this course of action so I do offer an alternative.  Second choice: Send a team of two covert agents in to fix their wagon and fix it good*.  Who to send, you say?  Navy SEALS?  Green Berets?  Nope, they’ll be expecting that.  I suggest a team that, even though they have yet to work with each other, I believe they cannot fail.  Adam West (who needs no introduction) & Frank Drebin from Police Squad.  After all, Adam West did a fine job keeping us safe from those costumed freaks during the ‘60’s.  And, he has excelled as Mayor of Quahog recently.  As for Frank Drebin, I think his “Naked Gun” series of movies is now required watching at West Point.  After all, it was he who proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Ayatollah Khomeini did indeed wear an orange mohawk under his turban.  “Surely, you can’t be serious,” you say?  Well, I am serious…and don’t call me “Shirley.”  Harrumph…

* “Fix their wagon” is supersecret military code for, well, fixing their wagon…you know, *wink* *wink* blowing stuff up & punching Generals in the face.

Harrumph File #024 07.12.2010_What’s the deal with ducks?

Seriously, do you want this pant-less freak

hanging around your kids' school?

So, what’s the deal with ducks?  I mean, come on, have you ever really looked at these things?  Huge, slimy, webbed feet…probably something the French would be interested in eating; that weird, snapping beak that no other respectable bird would be caught dead wearing; no visible ears?  I mean, come on!  If that’s not proof that God has a sense of humor, I don’t know what is.  I dunno, the only other explanation I can come up with is that they’re the left-over refuse from some evil Chinese experiment gone wrong…horribly wrong.  And how about the simple fact that you can’t understand a word they say.  Oh ok, maybe you can understand some of the things Daffy says but you have to endure that incessant spitting… eeewww!  And, I defy anyone to translate a single word that Donald spouts…pretty much impossible.  And what about the fact that all ducks seem to have an evil personality?  Just check out Daffy in “Rabbit Seasoning” or any Donald short.  Speaking of shorts, just what the hell is up with Donald?  Ummm, a Navy uniform minus the trousers?  I mean I know it’s hard to separate the men from the boys (literally) in the Navy, but what a pervert!  For God’s sake man, children watch your cartoons! Put some damn pants on!  Ohhhh…what to do, what to do?  Well, there can only be one answer: total war.  Yes, total war against duckdom.  No half measures here.  We must protect the children from these evil, quasi-Chinese (ever heard of Peking Duck? Um-hmm,) quacking perverts.  Yes, I know Donald fought the Nazis back in WW2 and Daffy is a staunch anti-communist but we cannot mask their present abhorrent behavior with their past glories.  Begin with the air war-the perfect arena to prove the worth of the F-22.  Once we have established complete air dominance we can move on with the ground war.  Yes, it may be a hard row to hoe…we will take casualties.  But, we must make the sacrifice now so that our children and grandchildren may play free from the threat of duck perversions.  You know what Daffy?  I don’t care if it is fiddler crab season, the laser sights and crosshairs will find you.  Now, if I can just find a duck costume big enough to stuff that smarmy Alex Trebek in before the bombing begins…Harrumph…

Harrumph File #023 07.05.2010_ I want to punch a baby gorilla in the face

Boxing champion or punching bag? I can take this guy!

So I was talking to a friend of mine at work the other day.  She said she was thinking of going to the zoo because they had a new baby gorilla & it was probably cute & blah, blah, blah.  It was right then that it hit me.  It was as if one of those old style light bulbs lit up above my head like in the cartoons.  I had the solution to a million…no, a billion…no, a trillion problems facing our country right now.  Yes, I alone possessed the solution to the gigantic government debt problem facing us: Bread & Circuses.  Yes, the old Roman Empire had it right, when you’ve got problems facing your people, give them bread & circuses.  Well, why can’t we do that nowadays…except better!  Of course, we don’t need to use circuses to distract the populace like the Roman emperors did, that’s what we’ve got Las Vegas for. What I’m proposing is a money making scheme.  Everywhere you go you hear about governments from cities & counties all the way up to the feds needing money.  Well, here’s the way to financial freedom.  Why doesn’t the government run it’s own circuses?  Now, I’m not talking about those cheesy traveling circuses with evil clowns, Chinese acrobats (plotting the downfall of western civilization while they travel around, no doubt) & depressed elephants just waiting to go berserk.  No, nothing like that.  Here’s where the cute baby gorilla comes in.  Every city has a zoo & every zoo has new babies every once in a while.  Well, how much would you pay to see a boxing match between a citizen and a baby gorilla?  Better yet, how much would you pay to actually box a baby gorilla?  I mean, come on, how cool would that be?  Sittin’ around a table playing poker with your buds & they’re throwing out things like “caught a 10 pound catfish last weekend…” “Shot me a 6 pointer buck this year…” ‘n stuff like that.  Then comes the next line: “So what’d you do last weekend, Joe?”  Answer: “I punched me a gorilla right in the face.”  Trump card played gentlemen, game over.  This could make millions for the government.  It could become so big that celebrities & famous athletes would want to step in the ring, all promoted by Don King, if he’s still alive.  Maybe even put it on TV!  As long as that smarmy Alex Trebek doesn’t host the show, I’ll watch it!  And the cool thing about this is that you could use almost any animal: baby giraffes, kangaroos (no wait, that’s been done before,) maybe baby elephants. And the best part is…they work for peanuts.  Ok, now don’t start off with the “How could you, baby animals? How cruel!” blah, blah, blah.  They’re animals…wild animals.  Have you ever seen Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom?  No? How about “The Lion King?”  Talk about animal cruelty!  Those guys are eating each other, not just taking an uppercut to the jaw.  I think a baby gorilla can handle it.  Besides, if you went & boxed an adult gorilla he’d rip your head off in the first few seconds, so nobody’s gonna want to step in and do that (hmmm, except maybe drugged up street bums & hobos…get them all hopped up on ripple or thunderbird & toss ‘em into the gorilla pen!  Hey, maybe we can solve two problems at once here!)  Harrumph…

Harrumph File #022 06.28.2010_ Any way you cut it, monkeys are just plain evil

A planet where apes evolved from men?

I remember watching this movie when I was a kid.  I don’t remember the title or who starred in it but I can see, in my mind’s eye, the ending to the film as if it was yesterday.  There was this group of scientists in Antarctica at a remote research station…oh, around 6 or 7 guys with these chimpanzees they kept in cages and used in their experiments, who knows what about.  Well, as each scientist met his fate in some unusual way; you know, you see a box of used pinball parts fall on someone’s head or a beaker of acid thrown in someone else’s face, melting the flesh off & revealing a grim, grinning skull, you never actually saw the assailant.  So, of course the remaining victims wonder who the killer is? Who could they trust?  And thus, the tension builds until there is only one scientist left, baffled by the fact that he is the only human at the station yet someone is stalking him; someone, some unknown entity is forcing him into a smaller and smaller section of the station until he finds himself outside…in a freezing snowstorm…with no jacket, no gloves, no hope of survival.  And, as the lock on the door to the outside clicks, sealing his fate, the face of a chimpanzee appears in the window & he realizes the monkeys have evolved to self-awareness.  NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! End credits.  It was then that I realized that monkeys are evil.  Over the past few months I have sounded the clarion call of awareness for those that choose to listen.  The list is long: zombies, robots craving human flesh (whoops, actually that’s zombies craving human flesh, robots just wish to annihilate us.), clowns, witches, the red Chinese & their evil partner, Alex Trebek, Canadians & that insane fool “The Riddler.”  Now it’s time to add that most conniving of creatures to the top of our official “enemies” list.  The evidence is stacked against them; we ignore it at our peril.  I don’t care how many “Curious George” books you may have read your children, monkeys are just plain evil…yes, even George.  Allow yourself to be fair-minded for a bit & you will see the logic that stares you in the face…from behind bars in the monkey cage.  Just why is George so curious?  Could it be that he is just the first in a series of reconnaissance missions from monkeydom?  Could it be that he gets himself in so many messes just to embarrass or possibly even injure the man in the yellow hat?  Hmmm, an evil little monkey if you ask me.  And, after so many cute little stories of George doing this & George doing that, people are blinded to the danger!  You won’t think Curious George is so cute when him & his friends get “curious” on you with a croquet mallet!  People’s evidence #2:  Flying monkeys (*shiver.*)  I mean, anyone that’s seen “The Wizard of Oz” knows what I’m talking about.  Those flying monkeys were organized!  The witch tells the “general” monkey to take his “army” to the forest & take care of the scarecrow & company.  His “army?”  WTF, has he got tanks & APC’s parked behind the castle?  I don’t put anything past monkeys…especially flying ones (*shiver.*)  I saw on the news recently that Michael Jackson’s pet monkey “Bubbles” is lonely.  Latoya Jackson visited him.  It was just plain weird.  Anyway, as she is talking to him and crying the camera pans over to Bubbles sitting there, staring out into space.  You could see it.  You could see it if you looked close…“that” look.  “That” look that monkeys use as if to say: “my only wish is to be released from this cage so that I may rip your face off and eat your eyeballs.”  Yeah, Bubbles had “the look.” Evil monkey.  So what to do about the monkey problem?  Just what is the solution?  There can only be one solution: shock & awe.  We need to begin an offensive using all the tools at our disposal.  Monkeys want to fly? Well, let’s introduce them to a few Apache attack helicopters.  A 25mm automatic chain gun can sure ruin a monkey’s evil plan.  Let’s see how curious George gets when we strap him to a cruise missile sporting a 10 kiloton nuclear payload headed to Kenya!  That’s one dead monkey, boss.  Overkill, you say?  Only if you don’t believe in the future.  You see, I believe in a future where humans dominate, not apes.  Do you want to see the horror of a planet dominated by monkeys? A planet ruled by apes where humans are the hunted ones?  A planet where apes evolved from men?  I for one do not.  I think George Taylor put it best when he said, back in 1967 (or was it 3978?), “Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!”  Harrumph…

Harrumph File #021 06.21.2010_ Why we need to invade Mars now

Better start running, they're on their way...

“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire over matter…Yet across the gulf of space…intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us…”  Thus begins one of the greatest books ever written, “The War of the Worlds” by H.G. Wells.  The theme of this book has been re-written & refined by contemporary artists, giving us such treasures as: “This Island Earth,” “It Came From Outer Space” and “Zontar: The Thing From Venus.”  Now, before you start laughing, I think you should stop and think about this a bit.  Do you think they made these movies to make money?  Come on, those ‘50’s flicks didn’t net dime one.  No, there can only be one explanation.  Much like the 1960’s “duck & cover” movies we watched in school trained us to take on those commie Russians and movies like “The Manchurian Candidate” prepared us to deal with those ever-present, but just slightly comical, evil Chinese plots; just as “Batman,” starring Adam West, braced us against notorious, costumed villains (a great job there, Adam West, as there are no longer any notorious, costumed villains to worry about!) these ‘50’s, drive-in movies began preparing us for something more insidious than any rattling, crappy Russian nuclear weapon made out of used pinball parts; any horde of armed, screaming, red chinamen charging across the beach; any costumed freak who has to come up with the most complicated way of killing his victims, then leaves so that they can escape by the most elementary means…Anyway these films were meant to prepare us for: (drum roll, please) invaders from Mars (or possibly Venus)!  Yes, you’ve all been warned so there’s no excuse to just ignore the problem.  You’ve seen the evidence:  Marvin the “Martian” on Looney Tunes – he wants to blow up the Earth with an illudium Q-36 explosive space modulator…heck, he even admits it!  And, check out the movie “Mars Attacks!”  I mean you’d have to be a moron not to see the threat there (better start stockpiling those Slim Whitman records!)  How about “UFO,” the ‘70’s smash hit series (ok, so maybe I was the only one who watched it but that doesn’t diminish the fact that the flying saucers came from Mars…probably.)  And what’s up with all the UFO sightings that people have had over the years? Obviously, recon missions by Martians in preparation to invasion.  And in all this what is NASA (the National Aeronautics and SPACE Administration) doing?  Let’s see, no more shuttle flights…ya, we’ve got to rely on crappy, duct-taped, Russian Soyuz space ships left over from the cold war (that they probably had to sweep dust off of) to lift our astronauts to the space station (and, by the way, why don’t we have a really cool space station like the big spinning wheel in “2001” instead of that monstrosity we currently have hanging out there…and with foreigners on board?  Who designed it anyway, Salvador Dali?)  No new missions to the moon so no cool moon base to use as an outpost.  I mean, come on…the moon?  Not even back to the moon?  Heck, they put 12 Americans on the surface of the moon back in the ‘60’s & ‘70’s using slide rules & an Apple IIe and we can’t even duplicate that nowadays?  WTF?  We’d better get off our butts & start building ships & laser guns to send to Mars and beyond, or else “NASA” will stand for “Not Another Space Adventure!”  “Oh, we’ve got too many problems here on Earth to spend money in space…” you say?  Blah, blah, blah.  You know what, if you can afford to buy a new IPhone every time they release an upgraded model, you can afford to fund NASA the way it needs to be funded.  And I’m not talking about funding silly little drones that pop out airbags when they land & go bouncing along the Martian surface like a gigantic beach ball.  If we continue to do that the Martians will just laugh their heads off (all 3 of them!)  No, it’s time we start building and deploying things they’ll take seriously.  I’ll tell you what, you start landing Marines on Mars with cool laser guns or M41a pulse rifles firing 10mm, caseless, exploding projectiles, you’ll get their attention!  But no, you’ve all decided that spending our money on things like studying the mating habits of the South Peruvian hairless Yak is more important.  Ok, don’t say I didn’t warn you!  Harrumph…

Harrumph File #020 06.14.2010_ Damn, I Really Hate Smarmy, Know-Nothing Busy-Bodies

The king of smarminess, Alex Trebek. And, he's a dang Canadian!

You know one thing I really can’t stand?  One thing that, if taken care of, our world would run smoothly & with no problems?  Yeah, eliminating the Red Chinese is the top of my list but I’m talking about something even more insidious because they’re right here, already infiltrated into our society.  Yeah, it’s those smarmy ass-clowns that constantly poke their noses into other people’s business, thinking they know more than you, when in reality everyone that knows them thinks they’re the biggest idiot around.  Everyone knows one (or more if you are extremely unlucky) of these morons.  Maybe they live next door to you or maybe you work with them.  Either way, you know as soon as you see them walking your way that your blood pressure is rising and you wish you still had that croquet mallet or your kid’s little league bat in your hand.  Now, I’m not talking about the guy that has memorized every fact in the world & is willing to share them with you or the person that’ll talk your ear off telling you about last night’s episode of “Seinfeld,” even though you old them you’ve already seen it.  It’s not that Chinese guy (probably plotting the downfall of western society in his spare time) from I.T. that no one understands but you still smile at so that you’re not #1 on his hit list.  I’m not even talking about that supervisor that recites, word for word, in that flat monotone that we’ve all heard, the company’s new policy on making sure you clean up the coffee grounds from the counter when you make a new pot of coffee, ensuring that you use a new filter each and every time and that you only take one filter from the carton and use 5 to 7 spoons of coffee grounds, blah, blah, blah…Jeeze, where’s that croquet mallet?  No, we’ve learned to adapt & deal with these people with a lot of smiling & a “ya” or “um-hm” thrown out now & then.  But, somehow most of you have lost your ability to deal with that smarmy idiot that comes over from his cubicle & begins to tell you how to do your job because “he knows better.” Or, maybe he sticks his nose into a situation that he knows nothing about & lets you know that “sooner or later you’ll realize that what I’m doing is best for you.”  Well, the last thing you want this clown to think is that you actually want to have a conversation with him so the “um-hm” routine just doesn’t work.  You’ve got to be direct.  Sometimes a simple “shut the f**k up, dumbass” will suffice.  However, some of these creatures will require follow up.  I suggest: “When I said I hate your freakin’ guts, I meant it.” One of the most important lessons we’ve learned from history is that you’ve got to deal with morons from a position of strength otherwise you’ll just end up in an encounter group & who really wants to go there?  You know, when the Dynamic Duo were tied up & left to be slowly lowered into a vat of bubbling slime while that smarmy clown in green tights started off his spiel with “Riddle me this…” did they want to sit down in a circle & talk about their feelings?  No, they had already taken their “anti-tied up” pills, freed themselves & began to whoop Riddler-ass before the Penguin could quack or the Joker could get one guffaw out.  When Goldfinger smarmily responded to James Bond’s question of “do you expect me to talk Goldfinger?” with “No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!” what did Bond do?  No, not a hypnosis session to help him get along with others.  He shoved that clown out of a jet’s shot-out window at 20,000 feet.  I expect you to die, Goldfinger! Smarmy clown.  So, if you recognize yourself on these pages…if you realize that you are “that” idiot that everyone can’t stand…if you admit to yourself that you’ve got a problem with smarminess, I’ve got one thing to say to you: “shut the f**k up, dumbass!”  Now, where did I put that croquet mallet?  Harrumph…

Harrumph File #019 06.07.2010_WTF, Canada again?

"Know your land, know your prey."

Ok, so you all know that Canada is one of the Harrumph Files’ favorite targets.  I’ve taken many shots at our northern neighbors even while enduring the looks, comments and, yes, even  harrumphs of Canadian-harboring Americans whose loyalty I am now forced to question.  Anyway, in order to placate those Americans out there that actually know the words to “Oh, Canada” I’ve decided to take a fresh look at the Dominion and try to accentuate the positive, eh? So, let’s begin. Here are some of the good things about Canada that I like best. *crickets chirping*  Hmmm…well, this might be a little more difficult than I thought. Canada…good…Canada…good…hmmm…no I just don’t think there’s anything…no, wait, here’s something good about Canada: Canada’s so big that it forms a natural time buffer in case we ever face the threat of incoming nuclear warheads from over the North Pole.  Yes, Canada will give our citizens the time necessary to “duck & cover” properly and our Air Force time enough to turn those missile keys and obliterate our nuclear enemies!  Thanks Canada!  Ummm, here’s another good reason for Canada’s existence: If it wasn’t for Canada maybe the French who settled in Quebec would’ve actually landed on our east coast & then we’d have to deal with another messed up state like Louisiana! I mean, imagine a Cajun Maryland or Delaware…eeewww!  Thanks Canada!  Hey, if you’re sitting next to that smarmy Canadian couple from Harrumph File #13 when your airliner is hijacked you can probably give them a quick elbow to the face, thus knocking them out & switch your passports!  That way, when the terrorists start cutting heads off (American, of course) yours will be sitting pretty behind your newly adopted county of Canada and those smarmy clowns from Saskatchewan will be the ones loosing theirs!  Thanks again, Canada!  And what about our soldiers sharing assignments with Canadian soldiers at Cheyenne Mountain?  Well, I hear that Canadians make one helluva good cup of coffee, so, ‘thanks Canada’ for providing our warriors with coffee ‘n stuff while our guys do the actual fighting!  But, beyond these things that make Canada great (man that’s hard to say with a straight face!) there’s one thing that stands out as the best of Canada.  The one thing that allows me to tolerate their very existence… MANTRACKER.  Oh yeah, this TV show is better than McHale’s Navy, Baa Baa Black Sheep & Hogan’s Heroes COMBINED!  It’s an outdoor reality show where the mantracker, a cowboy from Alberta, who has 25 years of experience in search & rescue, tracks and attempts to capture a team of two people (the “prey”) before they can get to the finish line.  As the mantracker says: “Know your land, know your prey.”  The prey get a compass, a map and a head start to the finish line, usually 25 miles away.  The mantracker, assisted by a local “sidekick” who knows the terrain, has to observe the start flare, get to the start point, find tracks, and set off on horseback in search of his prey.  The prey have 36 hours to hump their gear across mountains, rivers, grasslands, and even a few populated areas, all the while looking over their shoulders hoping the mantracker isn’t riding them down in a torrent of hooves and horse breath!  This show is great!  People try to outwit the mantracker by leaving false trails, wearing bags over their shoes, or sometimes leaving booby-traps or notes to tweak him.  What button heads!  Anyway, this show is the saving grace for Canada.  A show without that smarmy Alex Trebek smirking when he tells a contestant “noooo, I’m sorry but you didn’t frame the answer in the form of a question, you lose.”  No evil Chinese genius plotting the downfall of western civilization only to be stopped at the last minute by Dr. Quest’s knowledge of the dead language of “Hallakese,” Race Bannon’s incredible marksmanship, Hadji’s weird, Indian mystical powers and Johnny’s spunky dog, Bandit (Can’t someone stop that incessant barking?)  No dynamic duo beating the tar out of strange, worthless petty criminals whose only crime was purchasing their costume at “The Men’s Wearhouse,” yes even the top hat, cigarette holder and umbrella.  So thank you, Canada.  Thank you for MANTRACKER, the one show on TV that’s worth watching.  Of course, if we had invented this show in the U.S. we would’ve equipped the mantracker and “sidekick” with real six-guns…BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!  Oh yeah, now that would be the show to watch!  Harrumph…

Harrumph File #018 05.31.2010_Memorial Day, 2010

Chief Finn.

This week we observe Memorial Day and so The Harrumph Files humbly takes a back seat to honor those that, as President Abraham Lincoln so able put it, “gave the last full measure of devotion.”  They have come from all parts of our Republic and all walks of life.  They have been the sons and daughters of Kansas farmers, roughnecks from Texas oil wells, New England fishermen and California lifeguards.  When the time came they answered the call, not for glory, not for medals, not for personal advancement.  They came because it was expected of them.  They came because of their beliefs.  They came for us.  Duty, Honor, Country.  These three words have guided our warriors through history, through the struggles against tyranny, against fascism, to set people free.  Some have “laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom” so that others may live.  There have been so many from so many wars.  American crosses and stars decorate cemeteries worldwide, guardians standing in silent testimony to the spirit of Americans.  Until I cross the river on my final journey I cannot individually thank each of our fallen but I think the following story represents them all.
    John William Finn was born on July 23, 1909 in Los Angeles, California.  He was the son of a plumber.  Not much is publicly known about his early life, it was probably like most of his contemporaries.  He worked odd jobs as a teenager and then dropped out of school and joined the Navy to see the world.  It was a sleepy Sunday morning, 15 years later, in December, 1941 that would change his life, and the lives of millions, forever.  By this time John was a Chief Aviation Ordnanceman stationed at Naval Air Station Kaneohe Bay. A leader of men, an example setter.  As he woke he heard the sound of aircraft and then machinegun fire so he quickly dressed and drove to the station.  When Chief Finn arrived at the aircraft hangers he immediately went into action.  He didn’t wait for orders, he didn’t sit by and observe, he acted.  The citation for his Medal of Honor says it best:  He “promptly secured and manned a 50-caliber machine gun mounted on an instruction stand in a completely exposed section of the parking ramp, which was under heavy enemy machine-gun strafing fire. Although painfully wounded many times, he continued to man this gun and to return the enemy's fire vigorously and with telling effect throughout the enemy strafing and bombing attacks and with complete disregard for his own personal safety. It was only by specific orders that he was persuaded to leave his post to seek medical attention. Following first-aid treatment, although obviously suffering much pain and moving with great difficulty, he returned to the squadron area and actively supervised the rearming of returning planes. His extraordinary heroism and conduct in this action were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.”  Chief Finn recovered from his wounds, was promoted Lieutenant in 1944 and served until 1956.  He was 100 when he died Thursday, May 27th, 2010, perhaps a date not as well known as the “date which will live in infamy,” but one just as important.  He was the last surviving member of the 15 men awarded the Medal of Honor for their actions during the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Some were killed that Sunday morning, some died later during the war, some lived on.  Where do we find such men?  They are here, just as they have been throughout the history of our great Republic.  “Our flag’s unfurled to every breeze, from dawn to setting sun.” And, they will continue to unfurl our flag for we find such men and women in every generation.  When the call is issued they will come.  Duty, Honor, Country.  Rest easy, John William Finn, thanks to you and many others like you the Republic is safe.

Harrumph File #017 05.24.2010_Where the heck did all these witches come from?

Some workplace witches are easy to spot.

I’m sure you remember the subject of this week’s harrumph from your childhood just as I do.  Witches have been with us forever, it seems.  People have had to deal with them from the earliest days of civilization right up to today, the so-called “computer age.”  You think they would’ve gone the way of the Dodo bird by now but, curiously, they seem to have made somewhat of a comeback recently.  However, there are some differences between the witches of our childhood night terrors and the creatures wandering around the workplace or the mall today.  First of all, contemporary witches don’t melt when you throw water on them, not even holy water…believe me, I know that one.  And, I challenge you to uncover modern witches by proving that they weigh the same as a duck as they used to do back in King Arthur’s day…man, that’s a tough one in today’s PC environment…sneaky witches.  They also don’t seem too fond of wearing the traditional garb nowadays.  You know, an all black cloak, black, pointy hat and black cape (Usually accompanied by all green face make-up.)  Yep, as tricky as an evil Chinese plot, these new witches are (and you know how tricky those commie Chinese are!)   They sure seem to be going out of their way so that you won’t notice them.  Haven’t seen them?  Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Well, I’ve told you before that I would warn you of danger & here it is.  Right here, in our workplaces, in our schools, in our shopping areas…they’re there.  You must be diligent.  You must hone your skills of observation.  You must be open-minded if you are to protect yourself & your loved ones from the danger of the modern witch.  There are some things you can do to minimize the peril and, of course I will share these with you.  If, one of your acquaintances has a habit of arriving & departing in a puff of fire & red smoke, avoid that person…obviously a witch.  If they live in a house made of gingerbread instead of the traditional wood & masonry, stop going to book club there.  If your “friend” keeps complimenting you on your shoes…eventually asking you to borrow them, you’d better “unfriend” them in Facebook right away.  And, perhaps this is the most frightening of the tell-tales signs of a witch.  The cackle.  Yes, you’ve heard it.  Think back, maybe Halloween when you were 6 or 7 years old, maybe the first time you saw “The Wizard of Oz.”  THAT cackle. Yep, even after thousands of years those sneaky witches can’t disguise it.  Listen, you’ll hear it.  Maybe over by the coffee pot or coming out of the copier room.  If you know what’s good for you you’ll stay away.  Really, nothing good will come of trying to expose today’s workplace witch on your own.  About all you’ll end up with is a squadron of flying monkeys attacking you on your commute home *shiver.*  Oh man…bad memories.  But you know what ticks me off even more than those “closeted” witches out there, hiding in the shadows just waiting for the world-conquering “go” signal from that smarmy Alex Trebeck?  Yep, it’s the ones that know you know who they are…and just don’t care.  They leave their cauldrons burning and bubbling in the cafeteria.  Sometimes they fly their broomsticks up & down the stairways while you’ve got to walk.  Constantly making comments that their favorite cigarettes are “Salems.”  Suing companies to get special “broomstick parking” just like they have for motorcycles or bikes…then parking in regular parking spots, smirking at you as you pass on by, having to park in the 12th row.  The absolute worst though is when there are like, 3 or 4 of them walking down the hallway and, sure enough, they’re shoving regular people into walls, stepping on feet, waving their evil, thin, spider-like fingers in faces, cackling & daring you to make an issue of it.  Jeeze…witches…Harrumph…

Harrumph File #016 05.17.2010_I’ve got just one word for you…clowns.

And so there I am…it’s 3 in the morning…thunder & lightning outside…I’ve woken up in a cold sweat…yes, I’ve had “that” dream again…clowns were after me.  I’m sure everyone has experienced this particular sense of horror.  The bloated, red nose. Horrid, disorienting, multi-colored uniforms of death.  Gigantic feet ready to stomp you into dust. The disgusting, vile bad breath that is the hallmark of the evil clown getting closer and closer…Sound familiar?  I’m sure it does.  Clowns have haunted our existence for thousands of years.  Parents have put their children through the horror of clown exposure for countless generations.  Remember when you were 5 years old and your mom & dad said they were taking you to the circus?  “We’ll see elephants and tightrope walkers, monkeys and lion-tamers!”  Not one word about those wretched creatures that show up in a wildly painted ’62 Volkswagen beetle…you think, “hmmm, this could be interesting.”  Then, 20 of these “things” pile out and begin to…there’s only one word for it…“assault” the first few rows of spectators.  Kids screaming and clawing their way behind parents.  Moms consoling their children as if they’ve just been attacked by wild dogs.  Fathers telling their sons to “man up, it’s only a clown.”  It’s only a clown…well, that’s the rub, huh?  In fact, that’s the disconnect here.  That’s what I don’t get about clowns.  All parents were children once.  Children that were, at some point, afraid of clowns.  And yet, every year, these same parents who were/are afraid of clowns have them invade birthday parties or expose their children to them at circuses.  There’s only one explanation for this.  Clowns are evil.  Clowns must use some kind of ancient evil Chinese-inspired oobie-doobie magic or witchcraft to mask their wickedness from adult minds.  If you doubt this just look at this list of former clowns:  Maximilien Robespierre, who led the French reign of terror and it’s infatuation with the guillotine, started out as a court jester.  Josef Stalin, murderer of millions, first job was as a clown in the Moscow circus.  After Hitler failed as a painter what do you think he did with all that leftover paint? Well, you know the Germans don’t like to waste anything…yep, clowned at children’s parties for a year before terrorizing the rest of the world. Jack the ripper & the Zodiac killer?  Both probably clowns at one point in their lives.*  And check this out.  Take the name “Hitler” and the word “clown.”  Notice anything familiar?  Sure enough, if you re-arrange the letters and spell it backwards…maybe add or take away some letters…they’re the same.  Proof positive clowns are evil.  Oh, and who did the brave & noble Adam West fight on TV week after week as “Batman?”  Nah, forget about that weird non-Canadian flightless bird guy and psycho catwoman (meow!…And just what is a “riddler” anyway?…freak.)  Yes, it was the “Joker” that ran the show…that pulled the strings of the rest of those so-called “super-villains.”  Without him all you’ve got are a bunch of also-rans.  In fact, I’m convinced it was his roll as the “Joker” in the movies that killed Heath Ledger in 2008.  There’s not much that can stand up to clown magic.  As usual, I’ve got a plan for an appropriate response.  As we begin to withdraw troops from the combat areas in Afghanistan and Iraq we can re-deploy them to the real front.  Right here, in the homeland, we face the ultimate threat of clown invasion.  Yes, it will take deploying our most elite and toughest warriors.  An around-the-clock campaign of “shock & awe” to defeat these soulless creatures.  We must be prepared. We must be strong. We must be willing, for this will be the decisive battle against a relentless, hardened enemy.  An enemy that hates us and our way of life.  But, we have the resources.  We have the weapons.  We have the soldiers to finish the job.  Oh yeah, you won’t think it’s very funny when the 82nd airborne drops in your lap one day, huh, Mr. Clown?  And you mimes over there in Paris?  Yeah, just sit there on the street, trapped in your imaginary box.  We’ve got some silent death heading your way too.  Harrumph…

* The aforementioned list may not be factually correct. 

Harrumph File #015 05.10.2010_Egad! It’s Sunday!!!

So, I’m sitting here on Sunday…Mother’s Day…just enjoying some quiet time with my favorite person…the mother of my kids…the one and only Mrs. Harrumph…when all of a sudden it struck me.  It struck me like I was shot…like I was shot with a diamond…a diamond bullet right through my forehead.  I hadn’t written the Harrumph file for this week!  *Sigh* I hadn’t even thought about it!  Usually, by Friday I’ve mulled over that week’s topic and already had it about 75% organized in my mind.  By Sunday afternoon I’ve written the next-to-final copy (I always go over it one last time right before it’s posted Monday morning) and am able to enjoy blowing away my friends on Battlefield 2 with a clear conscience.  Wha???  Perhaps no BF2 today???  Unheard of!!  Well, here I was, two days behind and sitting at zero. I mean, really, why do I put myself through this week after week? I don’t have the time to mow the lawn much less devote hours each week blathering away for the entertainment of cyber people who don’t even bother to leave comments on the discussion boards.  Maybe I have finally hit that point that bloggers worldwide dread? The point of no return when you run out of ideas to share? No, I’ve still got plenty to say on a variety of subjects from naked hand puppets to Gamma rays to…yes, the ever-present Canadians and evil Red Chinese lurking in the closet.  So what’s really in it for me?  It’s not like I’m getting paid huge sums of money…come to think of it I’m not getting paid any sums of money to write it.  I write the Harrumph File simply to give those of you out there that feel you have no voice a sense that you are not alone.  You’re not the only person to look at something and say “WTF?”  You are surrounded by fellow silent Harrumphians wherever you go.  I know it and now you know it because I have verified it for you. I will accept the criticism from non-Harrumphians (who don’t really know the truth, anyway) that’s meant for you.  I will be your lightning rod so that you may feel safe in your thoughts.  When “they” come for me I will not rat you out.  So yes, this is my gift to you, the reader.  Those of you who have enjoyed your weekend going to movies or hiking the great outdoors.  You have the luxury of time…something I have given to you so that you don’t have to spend your life thinking about the latest Red Chinese mind control plot to use that smarmy Alex Trebek and subliminal messages on “Jeopardy” to brainwash you into subordinating yourself to the vast robot conspiracy while singing “Surfin’ Bird” in French and looking for non-existent penguins while wearing a sock monkey costume in Canada…I will stand guard over this grand republic of ours just as the great Adam West did in the 60’s (albeit without a cool batman costume like he had) so that you may twitter away without a care. I will watch for the telltale signs of enemy bombers coming over the North Pole so that you may enjoy a ball game.  Feel free to take in a movie or Broadway show for I will alert you like the air-raid sirens of old times.  I will let you know when to “duck & cover” as dependably as “Bert” the turtle first did in the 50’s.  I will be your civil defense so that you may continue to enjoy life.  Sing songs of happiness. Picnic at the neighborhood park with no fear for I will direct you to the nearest public shelter, if needed.  Travel, fly airplanes, take trips to distant lands for The Harrumph Files are on guard!!!  PLEASE STAND BY…THIS IS NO DRILL…Harrumph…

Harrumph File #014 05.03.2010_The bird IS the word

Pasteur, Einstein, Hawking, Edison, Tesla…great scientists, all.  Great discoverers of the inner workings of the fabric of the universe.  Dreamers…thinkers…“do”ers.  Yes, you may all learn from them, respect them, even emulate them…but can you think like them?  Do you have the innate ability to “crack” the cosmic code, revealing the epiphany inside, just waiting to be discovered by the most curious of our species?  Sadly, no.  Most of you are content to continue your daily toil, waiting…nay, praying for 5 o’clock to roll around so that you can put the cover on your computer, jump into your leased Lexus and meet your fellow cubiclites down at Chotchkie’s, or Flinger’s and complain about the latest Lumberghism.  What ever happened to the dreamers?  What ever happened to capturing the infinite?  Well, those men that I mentioned earlier understood it and I understand it too.  Now, I’m not talking about mundane things like my discovery on how to make lightsabers work...that theory is actually very simple when you look at it (just have to make sure those evil red Chinese generals don’t perfect it first.)  In fact I’m sure that, once revealed, what I’m about to tell you will far surpass anything that Pasteur & company ever came up with.  I mean, check out Einstein: there’s a speed limit to how fast things can move in the universe…the speed of light.  Yeah, right.  If that were true then explain Star Trek, brainiac.  Oh, and how about Hawking?  Being a genius hasn’t helped Mr. Smarty get out of that chair of his…(*muffled voice from off-page*…Wha? What was that? *muffled voice again*…Lou Gehrig's disease?  You mean he…that it’s not…crippled, you say? Huh…I never made the connection.)  Well, um, that’s embarrassing.  Anyway, if we can just move along…what I’ve discovered is more important than everything those guys came up with put together.  It came to me while listening to a song a little while ago.  Actually, I didn’t even make the initial discovery.  We have a group of four musicians from Minnesota to thank for the ultimate discovery of the universe…the answer to everything that we have overlooked even though they presented it to us back in 1964.  Yes, the “Trashmen” were right…the bird IS the word.  There’s no doubt about it, everybody’s heard about it…The bird, bird, bird…the bird is the word.   It’s the answer to everything & anything.  You too will realize this if you just give your weary mind a rest.  Let’s say you’re out to lunch with your fellow cubiclites at Flingers:  “Hey, what’re you gonna order for lunch?”  Answer: “A-well-a bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word.”  Oh yeah, everybody knows that the bird is the word!  Your boss, Lumbergh, tells you that he wants you to come in on Saturday to finish up those T.P.S. reports?  Answer: “Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow.” No, don’t think that Lumbergh will be seeing me on Saturday!  That smarmy Alex Trebek reads some Jeopardy answer you don’t have a clue about?  Answer (phrased in the form of a question, of course): “Don't you know about the bird? Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!”  Game over, Alex.  So there it is.  Now you have been empowered.  What you do with this new found authority over the time-space continuum is up to you.  If you were involved in an evil Red Chinese plot to overthrow the world I might be nervous, but I’m sure that you will use it only for the betterment of mankind…and to blast any aliens that might try to invade.  However, I do not recommend listening to “Surfin’ Bird” more that 25 or 30 times in a row… Harrumph…Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow, Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow [repeat to fade]

Harrumph File #013 04.26.2010_Once again, I must say it…Canada sucks!

Oh....Canada...

I have been informed that I should put this Harrumph off for a couple of weeks.  I’ve been told that Canada has taken enough heat from me recently for not having any wild penguins…yes, I said wild penguins.  I have modified my stance for those of you that see everything in black & white and have said to me (in a rather smarmy tone, mind you) “There are penguins in Canada, they’re in zoos.” etc. etc.  *sigh*  So there, no wild penguins in Canada…happy now, Cheryl?  I say again, the main reason that Canada sucks is that there are no wild penguins within their frozen confines.  I’ll spare you the details of the evil Chinese plot to repopulate Canada by parachuting regiments of penguins into the Yukon by using old C-47s from Guatemala…wait a minute…that’s my evil plot…Hmmm, let’s reset, shall we?  Ok, so I’ve been told to lighten up on our neighbors to the north, but most of you know that ever since childhood I’ve subscribed to General Patton’s three axioms of modern warfare: kick ‘em hard, kick ‘em often & kick ‘em in the balls!  Well, ok, General Patton never said that and we know that Canadians have no balls but that won’t stop me from implementing the first two rules whenever I can.  So what else, besides having no wild penguins, makes Canada suck?  Well, half of ‘em think they’re French.  You know, we all can agree that there’s just something fundamentally wrong with wanting to be French.  I mean, eeewwww.  What else?  Oh yeah, how about hiding behind our nuclear shield for 65 years free of charge?  They say that Canadian military personnel help staff our nuclear command & control facilities at places like Cheyenne Mountain and various radar and support sites, that we’re one “integrated” team.  Hmmm, no Canadians in the bunkers with the missiles though…guess when you get right down to it we just don’t trust our “ally” to turn the missile key when push comes to shove.  And, you know, let’s face it…those other Canadian soldiers staffing Cheyenne Mountain are probably only there to get our guys cups of coffee & stuff.  Jeeze…Canadians.  Hey, when we invaded Normandy in World War II there were 3 beaches where the British & Canadian armies landed.  Which one do you think the British assigned to the Canadians?  Yep, the middle one…’cause even those smarmy British bastards know that you can’t trust a Canadian to hold a flank.  Another reason Canada sucks?  How about this one:  Canadians are just “wanna-be” Americans.  They dress like us.  They speak our language (well, most of ‘em do.)  They fly our airplanes and drive our cars.  They use our nuclear shield for their protection and take none of the risk or cost.  Most people couldn’t tell the difference between someone from Minnesota and someone from Manitoba…you just can’t.  About the only time that Canadians want to distinguish themselves from us is when the plane they’re flying on is taken over by terrorists.  You know, when those nutty, extremist thugs are walking up & down the aisle, looking for an American head to cut off, it’ll be those Canadians over on seats 3A & 3B that’ll jump up, holding their precious Canadian passports, and rat you out.  Oh yeah.  And what about this:  back during the Vietnam War it was Canada that took in our cowards.  What kind of country takes in a bunch of flower-wearing cowards?  I mean, where would the U.S.A. be if we had accepted the Statue of Liberty with an inscription that read “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!  Oh yeah, send me your cowards too."  No, it just doesn’t “sing.”  However, I’m sure that somewhere in the frozen north there’s a seldom-visited, weather-worn bronze statue of a Canadian Mountie with an inscription that reads something like this: “Give me a beer, a moose and a huddled squaw.  Throw the refuse out the back window. Send me some bacon for I lift my lamp in search of the outhouse door.  Oh yeah, send us your draft-dodgers and other cowards too, eh?”  Jeeze…Canadians…Harrumph…