The Awful ‘Alice in Wonderland’ Syndrome

Did you remember? Alice fell through the rabbit hole. She was not as graceful as we are but what the heck we all can’t be as nimble as Fred Astaire. One of the things that happened to Alice after doing that nosedive was she began to see people and objects as much tinier than they actually were or they became greatly magnified. You might not remember this. I don’t remember it either but now the Lewis Carroll Second Guessers Club and a few shrinks too are beginning to believe that Carroll occasionally saw huge people and, at times, some little bitty people too.

That’s where the sordid and unworthy misnomer of the “Alice in Wonderland” Syndrome rears its ugly head. These learned folk think that Lewis Carroll had migraine headaches and they now believe migraine headaches and some people who suffer from them also suffer from a malady that causes them to have visions of things that appear much greater or much smaller in size than they really are.

So if you suffer from migraines and you should happen to see things larger than life, don’t get carried away. Just remember, you might have the ‘Alice in Wonderland’ syndrome. It can’t be all bad either. Just think of how much food you can pile on your plate because a little headache made you think you weren’t eating much at all. All you have to do is turn to your bride and say, “I think I feel a little headache coming on.” and she will perfectly understand why you just loaded up enough food on your dinner plate to feed a family of fifteen small Asian children.

This is a rare syndrome. People who suffer from it have temporary episodes of distorted perception of body size. During such a period, if you have the syndrome, you may feel your body is larger or smaller than normal and people or objects around you will appear larger or smaller than usual.

Don’t be alarmed. I think some of this can be used to greatOrder From advantage. I have already mentioned the amount of food we can consume without fear of criticism from our peers and relatives. If the headaches are not all that terribly bad, think how many people can assume they are small and thin because their appearance in the mirror seems to tell them it is so.

We can all walk around with the sure knowledge that we are tiny people. What a tremendous boost to our big fat egos.

This is much like a public service announcement made for the betterment of our society. There is no charge for this gibberish and I pray you feel the same way and you will not send me a bill for any time I may have cost you in your reading of this. However, if you do have some extra change in your pocket, you can purchase the small book pictured above from by merely clicking on the blue shawl.


The Tom Ross, A.A.A.D.D. Detection System

It’s finally catching up with us. We thought we could last forever but we were wrong. They say the first thing to go is your plumbing but just read these notes from our old friend Tom Ross. Tom is a retired barrister and now lives out near the North Carolina coast. The rankest of amateurs can follow these few simple symptoms that Tom describes and successfully self-diagnose the degree of memory loss suffered. Since he first wrote these notes Tom’s lovely wife Diane keeps him chained to a post on the front porch.

If he had this problem back when he led our fearless Albany (Georgia) High School football warriors to a state championship in 1959 we would have been in sad shape. Anyhow read Tom’s notes and you decide if you think there is any help for him……or for any of us poor souls who have now fallen headlong into our seventies.

Tom Ross Says : "A.A.A.D.D. - KNOW THE SYMPTOMS!"
(Age-Activated Attention Deficit Disorder)          

This is how it manifests:

I decide to water my garden. As I turn on the hose in the driveway, I look over at my car and decide it needs washing.

I go to the garage and I notice mail on the porch table that I brought from the box earlier. I decide to check the mail before I wash the car.

I lay my car keys on the table, put the junk mail in the garbage can under the table. I notice that the can is full. I decide to put the bills back on the table and take out the garbage first. But then I think since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take out the garbage anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.

I take my check book off the table, and see that there is only one check left. My extra checks are in my desk in the study, so I go inside the house to my desk where I find the can of Pepsi I'd been drinking. I'm going to look for my checks, but first I need to push the Pepsi aside so that I don't accidentally knock it over. The Pepsi is getting warm, and I decide to put it in the refrigerator to keep it cold.

As I head toward the kitchen with the Pepsi, a vase of flowers on the counter catches my eye. They need water. I put the Pepsi on the counter and discover my reading glasses that I've been searching for all morning.  I decide I better put them back on my desk, but first I'm going to water the flowers.

  I set the glasses back down on the counter, fill a container with water and
suddenly spot the TV remote. Someone left it on the kitchen table. I realize that tonight when we go to watch TV, I'll be looking for the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll water the flowers.

I pour some water in the flowers, but quite a bit of it spills on the floor. I set the remote on the table, get some towels and wipe up the spill. Then, I go down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day: The car isn't washed, the bills aren't paid,
there is a warm can of Pepsi sitting on the counter. The flowers don't have enough water, There is still only one check in my check book, I can't find the remote, I can't find my glasses, and I don't remember what I did with the car keys. Then, when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I'm totally baffled because I know I was busy all day and I'm really tired.

I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first        ..........I'll check my e-mail....

At least Ross knows where to find his e-mail. Mine disappeared into the icloud while I was looking for my car keys.


Is It the Cat’s Pajamas……or the Cat’s Commode?

Unfortunately I do not have a picture of the prototype pet commode recently donated to the town of El Vendrell, Spain by inventor Enric Girona. The commode is a hole in the ground with a flush handle that is connected to the sewer system. There is also a drain grid next to the hole for tinkling purposes. It’s built on a twenty square foot platform that is self-cleaning. In Spain you can be fined up to $1,000 in Madrid and $2,000 in Barcelona for not cleaning up after your animals.

But we should have no problem in America because I have become acutely aware in the past two or three years that our pets know how to use a commode. I recently saw a film of a dog hopping up on a commode in his owner’s house and doing his business in the right spot. He even had the strength to push the flush handle when he was finished. He was a pretty good sized dog so I guess all that extra weight helped him complete the flush.

We can also teach our kitties the proper use of a commode if we will simply be patient and be willing to spend the time in the bathroom petting them and coaxing them to do the right thing. Then we have to figure out how to make the commode flush. I suggest an electric flushing apparatus that is triggered by the cat jumping to the floor and landing on a small pad that has a built in switch which signals the electronic flusher to flush the commode.

I told my friend Bubba Jack Johnson all about my idea for a cat commode that could actually be flushed by the cat. Bubba Jack is mechanically inclined and when you can get him to settle down and put his mind on the business at hand he can’t be beat at fabricating things like cat commodes.

I think I made a bad mistake in getting Bubba Jack so involved and excited about the idea. He lives with his Mama and that’s where I found him when I told him about plans for my new project.

I never dreamed he would use his Mama’s cat as a guinea pig. Kitty (his Mama doesn’t have a lot in the way of imagination when it comes to naming pets) weighs about twenty-five pounds and she has about ten or twelve more pounds of hair.

Bubba Jack got it all put together and he took Kitty and put her on the commode. The commode flusher chose to malfunction at that very moment and the water blew out the top of the commode and all over Kitty. Kitty screeched and leaped four or five feet in the air. When she came down on the pad with the flush switch built into it the commode flushed again and threw water all over the bathroom. Bubba Jack had failed to make the flush pad water-proof. That pad lit Kitty up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

I had never seen a cat explode. Luckily she didn’t really blow up. Fire raced along her entire body. Bubba Jack grabbed her by the neck and slung her into the commode and put his big foot on her to hold her down until the fire went out. He saved her. I just thought he saved her. His mother did not think so.

The cat commode project has been temporarily suspended. Lately Bubba Jack lives out of his car and his Mama is living by herself in her house. Just her and a naked cat.

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International Vulture Awareness Day is Here!

I’m not sure if buzzards indulge in tongue in cheek humor or if The Athens Banner-Herald newspaper article that appeared in Friday’s paper is for real but I do know that it was a pretty weird article even for a college town the size of Athens. It was written by André Gallant and Gallant has interviewed Suki Janssen of the Athens-Clarke County Solid Waste Recycling Division. That is a mouth full even for a kettle of buzzards. That’s what you call a group of the big birds circling the landfill according to Suki Janssen. If they all pile up in the trees, they are then referred to as a venue.

Amazing what you can learn in the newspapers but first you have got to half-way believe what you read and I’m not really good at believing what writers of the news attempt to translate from the person(s) they are interviewing (what they thought they heard) to what is true because generally the writer really knows little to nothing about the subject. That’s why I just like to make up things as I go along.

I know absolutely nothing about buzzards and vultures other than if you hit one on the road the bird is likely to cause serious damage to your car not the least of which is throwing up vile carrion all over it that has a stench which can probably never be erased.

Anyhow today is International Vulture Awareness Day at the landfill in Athens and I purposely waited until this late moment to tell you all about it because I cannot imagine anybody I know wanting to ride out to the landfill to visit one of the vulture education stations that has been set up by The Bear Hollow Wildlife Trail and The Oconee River Audubon Society. They even have binoculars for close-ups.

The only thing I remotely considered of interest is learning buzzards do not go to work until 10:00 AM but why should they worry about going sooner? Their meals are ‘ready to eat’ and breakfast will wait until brunch.

So here’s what you’re missing: the enchanting odor of rotting trash that emits sulfur fumes strong enough to knock you down (and to attract a vulture); If that doesn’t floor you these bad boys can use projectile vomit to run you back home; the vomit is so strong the stomach acids will kill botulism and melt the buttons off most shirts; buzzards have bald heads so they can poke around in large carcasses without ruffling lovely cranial feathers; last but not least in case you were still considering a buzzard instead of a cat or a Yorkie as a pet, buzzards defecate on themselves to keep cool.

Now that you have been given the ‘Vulture Culture” from a distance, please don’t thank me. In fact if you never mention it again I will be happy.

This interesting, thought-provoking article was beneficial to me in clearing up a serious concern I have had since we moved to Athens. The article gave the address of the landfill and it apparently is not too far from our house. For months I have set out on the back deck and watched dozens of buzzards circling overhead (in large kettles). I often thought they were watching me and, on occasion, I would leap to my feet and do wild Watusi dance steps while screaming whirling dervish chants of deliverance just so they would know I was still too agile to be dinner. Now I learn they’ve been out there circling the landfill the entire time. I was safe but just like Fats Waller always said, “One never knows, do one?”

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With This Ring…..Before He Said…..I Thee Wed.


Blind with love the befuddled young guy took her to Wendy’s and he sneaked her new engagement ring into a Frosty milkshake. Then to be sure she found it quickly so he could go ahead and pop the magic question he engaged a few of her friends to challenge her to make fast work of the shake. She did and she also made fast work of the ring right along with the contents of the shake. I should rightfully state that things went south after she swallowed the ring but, fortunately, two days later he indeed got to pop his wonderful question after the ring popped up ….or out….or whatever. Anyhow she decided to marry him in spite of his silly, chilly ring delivery.

Then there was this teacher and teachers should know better than to play in traffic but that is exactly what the boy had to do after he had his intended (and friends and family) meet on a pedestrian walkway of the Brooklyn Bridge so he could ask that same soul-binding marvelous question to his beloved. You guessed it. He dropped the ring into the middle of traffic below the pedestrian walkway. He had to do a chimpanzee routine of climbing down and dodging trucks and cars in the roadway to find the ring. She was so impressed with his simian like skills she decided to take him up on the offer. He had to get the ring repaired and cleaned up before they could use it in the wedding.

This fellow from London did them all one better. He never got the ring back. He had a balloon shop tie the ring, which cost over $12,000, to a helium balloon that was snatched from his hand by a gust of wind as soon as he left the shop. He chased the balloon for two hours but it got smaller and smaller until it was a little bitty dot and then he could no longer see it. She said she would marry him but now he has got to buy another ring. He was reported to have said, “I felt like such a plonker.” I don’t know what that word means but if he made it up I don’t blame him. If I lost a ring worth twelve grand “Plonker” wouldn’t even begin to describe my stupid tail.

A Chinese man was inspired by romantic movies that depict the leading man hiding the engagement ring in a cake for a girlfriend. “I imagined the surprise on her face mixed with happiness,” he sadly told a reporter. The really tough part for her was when he got down on one knee to propose and she realized she had swallowed the ring. She fainted. Happily I can say things did not go south in their situation. He got her to a hospital where the doctors used a catheter to retrieve the ring. Women are so wonderful. After all that unnecessary abuse, she accepted his proposal.

This is my favorite.

An English boy has a great imaginative heart. He is a craftsman in the Light Dragoons (I’m just like you. I have no idea what that means).

Anyhow, His relationship with his lovely girlfriend was about to crash and burn and so to save this crumbling relationship he thought it would be clever to emulate the romantic magic of the movies. There was a slight problem with his idea of romantic magic emulation. I think he was in his underwear and running shoes which may or may not be a good match.

He streaked across a Premiership football ground (during a game) and he fired red roses from a bow just like a big old cupid.

Even though this occurred on Valentine’s Day it went over a whole lot worse than tying a twelve thousand dollar diamond engagement ring to a lead balloon.

First he was arrested. Then the serving soldier was told he could face a court martial. To add insult to injury, his girlfriend was so appalled and embarrassed by his behavior that she dumped him.

If that wasn’t enough, even more misery was heaped on his shoulders when he was fined £200 and banned from all football matches for three years.

Outside court, the crestfallen 20-year-old said: ‘I’m sorry for what I did but I never realized it would cause so much trouble. I just wanted to impress my girl and it backfired really badly.’

He said he ‘genuinely thought’ he could rescue their failing relationship by acting as Cupid and he said, “Now I have no girlfriend.”

Don’t you just love this guy. Nothing he did worked for him but he certainly did it with style and flair.

The other guy with the balloon story was probably lying. He never had the ring to start with. He used a faux diamond that he let float away on a balloon and I’ll bet the girl doesn’t believe him either. She wants another ring just like the one he supposedly lost on the balloon.

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Be Kind To Your Dominatrix

I do not believe in torturous love making and I think that people who think pain is pleasurable should be shot right away.

I think some people are awfully pure and sweet of heart and don’t have much of an idea what a dominatrix is and what she does. This story is indicative of how these perverts operate.A strangely motivated woman I just read about in an equally strange article hired a female she could dominate in an even stranger way than most of us can imagine.

This is the weird story. It actually came from the newspaper feature, “News of the Weird.”

An Illinois woman was convicted of beating her dominatrix with a baseball bat because she and the dominatrix had a simple misunderstanding. The woman had hired the dominatrix to work as a slave. The slave’s duty was to take snapshots of the woman who employed her while the employer did her housework in the nude.

This is where I think the judge should have immediately stopped the proceedings and ordered the bailiff to shoot them both dead directly in front of his bench. It’s got to stop somewhere. Hell, I’m afraid it’s highly contagious and spreading like wildfire.

This is where the great misunderstanding could have occurred. The tiny piece of a mind left in the head of the dominatrix/photographer must have come unglued when the camera began flashing. She suddenly became like a wild tigress. She declared she was the master and began dragging her employer around by the hair. This supposedly happened right after the dominatrix made a phone call to someone she had met on the “Christian Mingle” dating website.

So you see, the gal who hired her had no option but to whip her crazy ass with a ball bat…..and all this while she was still in the nude and all dusty from whisking the furniture.

It must have been terribly humiliating to have to stop doing the housework in the nude to discipline someone you hired to discipline you.

I think she should sue the dominatrix. After all right is right, misunderstanding or no. I also think the dominatrix needs to remember and understand who was batting a thousand after the game started and when the game was over.

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Soon Taboo…To Tattoo…Your Cat, Your Dog, and Even Your Hog

I think everybody in this country should be aware that another American bastion of Liberty is being attacked by the US Government. New York is once again the dreaded keystone state that is going all out to take away another God-given right that has been established for centuries between a man and his beloved barnyard buddies.

Recently the New York governor and legislature have addressed the problem (as they see it). Up until now it has been perfectly legal in almost every state for good citizens (referred to in news reports as, “Narcissistic animal lovers”) to have their dogs and cats forced to endure permanent, decorative tattoos and body piercings. Pet pigs are bound to be next in the coming up mix.

New York Governor Andrew Cuomo is biting at the bit for the chance to sign legislation that will abolish the tattooing. Who is going to speak for the animals?” How can Governor Cuomo be so self-assured as to think he can decide whether my cat wants twelve nipple rings or not. He must be crazy.

You just wait and see. It won’t be six months before Governor Nathan Deal of Georgia is going to have spies out on every farm in our beautiful Southern state just peeking in barn doors checking our hogs for tattoos. I don’t know about dogs and cats but I know our pigs love their tattoos. If a rattlesnake bite can’t hurt a pig, a tickle from a tattoo needle may be more pleasure than pain.

Anyhow, we scattered all our tattooed sows and boars in the swamp bottoms along the Oconee River. We’ve got so many tattooed pigs in the swamps that many meth-manufacturing dope-heads are leaving the bottoms in droves. The sight of so many technicolored pigs have them going into hallucinatory convulsions.

It’s really sad. I can barely stand the thought of some swamp rat shooting one of our beloved pet pigs and then frying the pork skins down by the river. I keep having a bad dream that ends with an old swamp boy feasting on a multi-colored tattooed fried pork skin. The tattoo reads “Porky Loves Petunia” inside a big red heart.

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I’m getting a butterfly on my right cheek and a bracelet on my arm with “Frank Sinatra” on it.


1961 – Don’t Let Your Love Lights Shine on Me!


Good looking legs…..illuminated tires or not.

I know you are trying to remember the words to the old Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland song “Let Your Love Lights Shine On Me.” Maybe you can’t remember back to 1961 so you can only get back as far into your memory as the Grateful Dead version. That would be about the same time you burned out most of your memory and all your brain with stuff you insisted on ingesting and smoking. Stuff that left you with no brain and only a memory with holes in it like Swiss-cheese. A memory which still pretends to be your brain.

So now you might want to know what this has to do with the Goodyear Tire Company inventing illuminated tires back in that same year (1961, remember) and why those beautifully glowing tires might have been so quickly discontinued.

All you have to do to get the answer is to take a quick look at the picture above. There is a good looking gal all decked out in her finest in the awkward position gals get themselves in when they try to see how their backside is looking in public. What better place to check it all out than when you’re partially hidden by your car and you have tires that shine like 100 watt bulbs to light up your legs like the midnight sun.

No, this unfortunately is not a better place. It’s a horrible idea because cars are more likely to run over you if you stick your feet and legs under the tires to see how you look in the light. This is especially true if you are checking your legs later in the evening after you’ve had a margarita or two and the guy behind the wheel has got half his body outside the window so he can help you check out those lovely limbs.

So now you know the answer. Illuminated tires were quickly dropped as a hot idea by tire makers after a rash of lawsuits from multitudes of women with broken legs and flat feet……………. not to mention an equal number of men with misshapened and fairly flat heads who had apparently sneaked under the cars so they could sneak peeks at the gals.

Fortunately for the guys the illuminated tires helped light the scene for the emergency workers.

If I can help you with answers to other puzzling questions please fail to ask me. I tire easily.

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Old Folks – Raving and Body Surfing

Rave 3

This is a rave. Young people are raving. It takes little imagination and no brains to create or participate in a rave.


Here is another example of a rave. no matter how a rave looks, it takes the same amount of brains and creativeness to participate in the rave. A zero amount.







It has been known for sometime now that we all think we should be friends, buddies and pals with our children. We want to look like them, dress like them, act like them and  have all the fun they are having. We want to go to a rave with them even though we are old now and we do not have the physical ability to participate in a rave. This is a good thing because a few of us will actually need a brain at sometime in the future and it is well known that if you had a brain before you jumped into the rave you will not have your brain any more when you are bodily flung out of the rave.

In keeping with this line of thought, some organizers in England who were probably former rave arrangers decided to reach out to (obviously younger) people and meet them halfway on the road to sheer insanity by making an opera more excitable and more fun for them to attend. This seems to be a great idea since most younger folks would rather suffer through four hours of severe upper leg cramps (in both legs) than go to the opera.

They proposed making the opera more appealing by having the audience members stand and noisily cheer the performance rather than quietly semi-clapping their daintily gloved hands. This was based on their belief that a little more action from firing up the crowd would liven up the entire evening.

So they had Handel’s “Messiah” performed at England’s Bristol Old Vic Theatre.

When the performance moved to the stirring “Hallelujah Chorus,” a prominent and half-crazy theoretical chemist named David Glowacki became slightly unglued and attempted to crowd-surf in front of the stage. He said he could not control himself when they broke into the “Hallelujah Chorus.”

This is written as a warning to you older people who think you can fall-in with the younger nut-cases and “crowd-surf” your way through life.

I’m not sure if the fact that Dr.Glowacki’s being an expert in non-equilibrium molecular reaction dynamics had something to do with him evidently losing his equilibrium and flinging his body length-wise on the heads of unsuspecting swells of the upper class.

All I’m sure of is, crowd-surfing like a sixteen year old at a rave can get your fat fanny tossed out the stage door of England’s Bristol Old Vic in a royal heartbeat. It was not theoretical chemistry. It was literal ejection. Don’t let it happen to you.

Rave on… your bathroom and crowd-surf… your head.

Old Dude Surfing

This is crowd-surfing by an older man who is not in his right mind. When they get through with him he will wish he was in another body.

crowd surfing 2

This is crowd surfing by a younger man. He does not care whose mind or body he is in.








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To Kill a Watermelon.

wateremelon 3

Sometimes the knife you use can be mistakenly identified as a passive-aggressive knife. The knife looks innocent enough but it’s really not blame free. You never know what a knife may do.

watermelon 2

This particular melon seems to have a sweet innocent demeanor no matter how you slice it.

A badly misunderstood  marijuana and watermelon lover from Connecticut is now facing disorderly conduct charges because his girl friend has accused him of carving a watermelon in a menacing and threatening way right before her very eyes. She said to investigating police he cut up the unresisting watermelon in a passive-aggressive manner.

She reported him on July 4 (how un-American this seems) because she found marijuana and other drugs in his tool box (well, my gosh, it was the Fourth of July). Cops did not arrest him but she said she came home later and found the watermelon stabbed deep into its heart with a large butcher knife still sticking from its center. Then this crazy guy reappears and with absolutely zero compassion for the melon he commenced to whack it in such a passive-aggressive manner that it struck a menacing fear in her heart.

watermelon 3

When you are seriously intending to feast on a big melon, this is the way you want to carve it. Do it with the love and tenderness it so rightfully deserves.

shark melon

I don’t think this is what the bad boy was carving. I think this is maybe how he looked during the aggressive part of his melon chopping caper.

So the police hauled him away and it cost him 500 bucks to get out of jail. I feel sure he is sorry for his outlandish behavior because this time of year, you can buy a pickup truck full of watermelons for that kind of cash (a small pickup truck). He probably didn’t even want any watermelon and I’ll bet it’s a long, long time before he wants another watermelon.

All this melon talk reminded me of Gallagher and of how many melons he has maliciously slaughtered during all his years of demonstrating his famous sledge-o-matic vegetable and fruit separator. And never once was he hauled to jail for killing all that good food. I would report him but I think the statute of limitations has run out on his crimes. There shouldn’t be a limitation but I guess there probably is one. Here’s one guy in Connecticut getting taken to jail and booked while Gallagher is still stumbling around out there somewhere taking wild swings at every kind of innocent fruit or vegetable you can think of. Gallagher is a mass murderer as far as I’m concerned.

Now I’m afraid to show my true feelings toward my food and while I was slicing squash for Katie Mae this morning I caught her giving me strange questioning looks to see if I were aggressively cutting the squash. I was so intimidated I took the squash to our bedroom closet to finish the job. I usually attack my food aggressively but now after seeing her watch me like that I’m considering taking small, passive nibbles from tonight’s squash casserole.

Five hundred bucks is a lot of money and we’re in Georgia. What if it cost you more to treat your food in a passive-aggressive manner in Georgia and, by the way, how can you use a large butcher knife to passively separate a watermelon from its heart?

Gallagher 2

Here he is during one of his most aggressive attacks ever on our defenseless, helpless food chain. Justice has never been served when it comes to Gallagher and his endless assaults on our fruits and vegetables.


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