Make Room For Martians

bytimocerantola

Scientists have discovered a new body of water the size of Lake Superior – and, it’s not even on the Earth, it’s on Enceladus – one of the moons of Saturn.

Hey, this is big news nerd. We’re not talking about evidence of water or water that existed billions of years ago. We’re talking about water now. You know, water – that precious substance of life that we humans like to spray all over golf courses, flush down our toilets, pollute with toxic chemicals and avoid drinking eight glasses of daily.

Seriously dude, this discovery is very important because non-terrestrial water is vital to all future manned space mission plus, finding water elsewhere in the universe gives credibility to the many theories of extra terrestrial life (not to mention makes me feel better about those big-headed, bug-eyed space devils that keep landing their saucers in my backyard every night).

Now, if you’re like me and listen to too much of that spooky late night radio, you’ll know that most “Ufologists” (that’s what they call you when you spend too much time thinking about aliens and watching Star Trek reruns) have already jumped the gun when it comes to non-terrestrial alien life.

True. Ufologists would have us believe the universe is bursting at the seams with weird alien creatures that are intelligent, friendly and willing to lend a hand (or slimy, claw-like protrusion) to help Earth solve its many self-inflicted problems.

Of course our media likes to promote a climate of fear; hence they portray aliens as sinister, malevolent beings that lurk in the shadows waiting for any opportunity to perform their sadistic genetic experiments (which oddly includes an inordinate amount of anal probing) on a defenseless human population. Personally, I just cannot believe that such highly evolved, technically superior aliens would travel light years just to look up our butts. In my book, that’s just way too curious.

As for science, to date most scientists are afraid to even talk about the UFO phenomenon for fear of reducing their credibility to the level of cartoons. Instead, we routinely hear scientists pontificate that even if there is extra-terrestrial life, the likelihood of meeting them is zero because traveling the thousands of light years that likely separate us is scientifically impossible.

Sadly, human science in all its arrogance, likes to limit an infinite universe and all of its vast potential to our present level of knowledge and understanding.

As for me personally, though I have always hoped, I have never actually seen strange flashing lights in the sky. No, sadly the only strange flashing lights I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing were in Discos during the late 70′s.

Now, if we can suspend present day scientific theory for a minute and, for the sake of argument, suppose that aliens are real and they are visiting Earth – why do so many people assume that the aliens would want to contact Washington first?

Is it because any well-bred space alien with half-decent manners would want to get an official presidential ‘okey dokey’ to have a look around?

Really?

Why would an advanced alien race bother to ask for permission?

To put this into perspective, I will use my ‘Humans and the Ants’ analogy because I think humans are marginally smarter than ants and, I’ve had a few of both in my kitchen this spring.

Think about it. If you were to discover a large anthill crawling with ant life, would you ask to see the Head Ant first before having a look around?

Probably not! Why would you care?

I assume it is the same way with aliens and humans.

Seriously, look at it from the intellectually superior alien perspective. You’ve just arrived on Earth in an advanced spacecraft so complex that these inferior, Spam-for-brains humans wouldn’t even know how to flush the toilet in (if aliens even go to the bathroom).

You’re a tired alien. You’ve just traveled a humongous pile of light years with a back seat full of noisy, blabbering, impatient alien children who haven’t shut up since you passed Alpha Centauri. Your helmet is hot. Your antennae are drenched with perspiration and you’ve had to go to the bathroom for the last three light-years.

What you really want is a nice cool drink of that delightfully refreshing earth beverage ‘transmission fluid’ but, instead, these arrogant, self-absorbed humans have other plans for you as they want you to waste your time listening to no end of long-winded politicians waxing poetically about how both of our civilizations can learn from each other.

Seriously, put yourself in the alien’s shoes (if that’s even what aliens wear). Imagine how bored you’d be in Washington with all those pompous, narcissistic blow-hards with their dull dinner parties and endless speeches – not to mention the constant whine from the military begging you for your advanced technology so that they could build better, even more destructive weapons (for the purpose of world peace, love and the brotherhood of mankind).

No way! Not me! If I was an alien and I just might be (I’ll ask my Mom, she’ll know), you’d find me on the beach or trying out some of the local food. Heck, if aliens are as advanced as we think they are, they’re going to fly right past Washington and head straight for Disney World. Now that’s an intelligent move. You can’t have a bad time at Disney World.

Let’s face it kids, aliens don’t have to play by our rules. So be forewarned. It could be, that when the aliens finally get back to their home planet, their friends will ask them,

“So how was your Earth vacation? Did you have a nice time?”
“It was very nice,” The travel weary aliens will reply, “The music was great and the food was very delicious. We ate mostly Italian and Chinese, but the Canadians were very tasty too.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Alien Invasions, funny, humor, humour, Life

I Think There’s a Typo in The New Testament

bytimocerantola

 According to Forbes magazine, there are 1,565 billionaires in 2014 and, the richest of them all, is Bill ‘nerds r’ me’ Gates, who has $76 billion reasons why people tend to treat him nicely.

 Back in 2013, Gate’s was appreciably poorer as his total tallied a trifling $67 billion – which means Bill made $9 billion dollars in one year. By my math, that’s a $173 million bucks a week or approximately $4.3 million dollars per hour – if Bill puts in a full 40 at his money factory.

 Look at it this way; in the time it has taken you to read this far, Bill ‘nerds r me’ Gates has made approximately $72,000 thousand dollars.

 In the same amount of time, with my job, my savings interest (at my present bank interest rate of .0000000000002% per annum) – plus all of my RSP interest and other investments, I’ve made about 1.03 cents. (Yippee, I’m a pennyaire!)

 Which leads me to today’s topic and the reason why I believe there’s a typo in the New Testament. 

 You see, after hearing that ‘Supernerd’ has racked up $76 billion bucks, I’m now convinced that they misheard Jesus when he said, “The meek shall inherit the earth.”

 I think maybe Jesus said, “The geek shall inherit the earth” – only the guy taking down notes for Jesus didn’t know what a geek was, so he wrote in “meek” instead. (An honest oversight because computers, like geeks, had yet to be invented).

 Anyway, my point is, it’s all finally starting to happen just like Jesus said it would when He prophesied that Bill Gates was going to take over everything and buy the earth – although Jesus never actually uttered those exact words.

 OK, relax everyone! Bill’s probably not the anti-Christ. He’s more like one of those harmless Star Trek nerds who dress up in Starfleet uniforms and go to those weird sci-fi, dweeb conventions. Seriously, just one look at Bill and you can tell that inside that man’s chest beats the heart of a pointy-eared space geek.

 OK, maybe space geek is a bit over the top – so, let’s just say that prior to his acquisition of zillions, most women would have said that Bill registered a solid 8.5 on the Dork-o-meter.

 Of course now, when “Mr. Money-bags” is announced at one of those upper crust, social events, audible gasps of “Isn’t he dreamy?” “Hunkalicious!” and the occasional “Oooh-la-la!” can be heard among the crowd of money adoring women.

 But, if the truth be told ladies, Bill Gates without his money, is the type of man you would normally picture with a shirt pocket full of pens, horn rimmed glasses and a stack of dirty magazines under his bed. (Sorry to be so brutal Bill, but let’s face it. Like the rest of us nerds, you had to beg for dates back in high school too).

 Personally, I think that all those years of humiliation in high school set poor nerdy Bill off on this dangerous drive towards global domination. He was tired of being pushed around by the captain of the cheerleading squad. That’s when he put his foot down and, like most nerds, stepped into something brown and squishy. (But that’s the way we nerds roll).

 Anyway, Bill was motivated.

 “I know,” he said to himself (because few people would actually talk to him back then). “First, I’ll start a computer company, call it Microsoft, become mega-rich and then buy the entire planet. Then, I’ll hire all those folks who pushed me around in high school and employ them as doorstops and toilet roll replacement engineers in all of my various mansions. Finally, I’ll reward all of my dorky buddies from the chess club and hire them on as senior vice-presidents.”

 Hey, it was only a matter of time before the nerd herd took over.

Leave a comment

Filed under funny, humor, humour, Life, opinion

Resistance is Futile

bytimocerantola

On the way home from work last night, the news reported that the price of was going up by 4 cents a litre at midnight. So, I pulled into the very first gas station I saw and uttered some words I rarely ever say.

“Fill’er up.” I told the attendant. Eighty-three dollars and several tears later, I was on my way.

As I drove off, I thought back to the early 1960’s when my Dad would pull into our friendly neighbourhood BP (British Petroleum) gas station and say…

“Fill’er up or five dollars – whichever comes first!”

For those of you who have never visited the sixties, back then, gas station attendants, fearing an overflow, would be very cautious when trying to squeeze a whole five dollars worth of gas into your tank. If this sounds far-fetched to you, ask your grandparents to verify this seemingly unbelievable assertion.

Back then, even though my father drove a gas pig, five dollars was enough for a week’s worth of driving in the family boat. Of course my dad never took us anywhere, but that’s beside the point.

Anyway, as expected, this morning the price of gas jumped the reported 4 cents a litre to 132.9 cents – or approximately $6 per gallon.

If you expect your government to do anything about the ever-rising fuel costs, forget it. Sure, at election time they always promise to look into the matter but, the sad truth is, other than getting the usual group of officious sock-puppets and political windbags together to form gaseous committees, our leaders have proven to be impotent when it comes to doing battle with the ‘big oil’ corporations.

Many people believe the price of gas could be easily reduced if the government merely dropped the taxes but, according to one government spokesperson I heard recently on a radio show, this strategy will not work. According to this bureaucratic blowhard, our government does everything possible to keep the price of fuel low because they truly feel for you and me, the gas buying public. But alas, he explained, decreasing taxes will not lower the price.

NOTE: Before I go any further on how lowering gas taxes has no effect on the price, to fully understand the convoluted logic of the political mind you must first bang your head repeatedly against a concrete wall. This will properly prepare your brain to absorb the information. Come back when you’re done. I’ll still be here.

Back so soon?

Feeling a little woozy?

Good, it should help.

Now, as I heard it explained on the radio, lowering taxes will have no effect on the price of gas. Rather, lowering taxes will only serve as a signal to oil producers to raise prices even further because the public is already acclimatized to paying the higher price anyway. Sadly, according to some of the brightest minds in official-dumb, government is powerless to do anything about gas prices except, of course, rake-in billions in tax dollars.

For a brief moment, I actually started to buy into this weird, crazy explanation. But then the sobering truth hit me like an unquenchable gas-guzzling Hummer. I had an epiphany. I finally understood what was really going on behind the scenes in government institutions all around the world. It was the only logical explanation. The world’s leaders have been taken over by those evil, half man/half machine Borg aliens from Star Trek and we are all about to be assimilated – one gas tank at a time!

Think about it. First they encourage us to support the economy by buying large, expensive, gas-thirsty vehicles. Then, they slowly jack-up the price of gas until we are spending more on fuel than food.  Finally, they’ve got us where they’ve always wanted us (by the pistons) – and that’s when, like in Star Trek, they assimilate you. Resistance is futile. You are Borg and part of the gasoline-addicted collective!

It’s scandalous, but somehow “big oil” has managed to turn the entire car driving public into passive, puerile, pushovers. We’ve become a bunch of languid, lazy-minded automatons who have forgotten about natural human locomotion.

C’mon people, think about it! There is only one way to do battle with these greedy gas titans and the battle cry is “WE WILL WALK – or at least ride our bikes!”

That’s right. For our collective health and wealth, not to mention cleaner air, we must start walking more and using our vehicles only when absolutely necessary.

Sure, we may be losing the battle now, but the war has just begun. If the world’s oil producers suddenly see hundreds of millions of people walking and riding their bikes to work, they’ll quake with fear and lower their gasoline prices immediately. Trust me, I’ve watched a lot of Star Trek. I know how to handle the Borg.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Alien Invasions, funny, humor, humour, Life, opinion

How Macaroni & Cheese Saved My Life

bytimcerantola

If you are among the many that worry about making ends meet, I believe I can help. For you see, I am a superhero of sorts. I am ‘El Cheapo – the cheapest man in the universe.’

For decades now, my parsimonious ways have achieved legendary status among my friends and family. I have earned my ‘el cheapo, man of thrift’ reputation and founded a life changing, penny-pinching philosophy known as “Budgetarianism.”

So, read on young grasshopper so that I may enlighten you and help you achieve proper balance. I will now impart the secret to financial happiness.

Similar to the Eastern traditions of Buddhism, Budgetarian enlightenment also contains four noble truths:

1. Suffering is inevitable.

2. Macaroni and Cheese Dinner eases suffering.

3. Further suffering will ensue if you eat too much Macaroni and Cheese

4. Even if you’re having roast beef, your kids will probably prefer mac and cheese anyways.

Now the budgetarian lifestyle is very similar to a vegetarian lifestyle, although vegetarians intentionally omit meat from their diet, whereas budgetarians omit meat to attain economic stability. But either way you look at it, both vegetarians and budgetarians can be considered “barn-yard friendly.”

Indeed, the budgetarian diet, though similar to that of his cousin the vegetarian, does, occasionally, include meat; but that’s only because the most cunning and clever of budgetarians have created a vast array of ambiguous pseudo-meat mutations such as spam, baloney, tofurkey, veggie dogs (not-dogs) and veggie burgers (shamburgers) all designed for those with limited grocery dollars.

Other mock-meat substitutes such as meatloaf are excellent examples of frugality at its finest. Containing only trace amounts of ‘moo’ and vast quantities of vegetables, breadcrumbs and, I’ve often suspected, lint from the clothes dryer.

Needless to say, this tasty low-cost “loaf” will easily qualify as an edible non-toxic by most federal food agencies though I recommend dousing these “edible substances” with copious amounts of ketchup or hot sauce as it may be necessary to avoid any taste seepage.

*Note: budgetarian meatloaf is very high in polyester, a very important budgetarian fiber.

Do budgetarians ever have fun you ask?

Well, they do. In fact, budgetarians have loads of fun.

For entertainment, budgetarians borrow DVD’s from their local library. Granted, the titles available may not be among the most contemporary favourites but, older classics such as “Surf Nazi’s Must Die” or Arnold Schwarzenegger’s “Hercules in New York” are readily available.

The library also offers a vast selection of educational titles such as National Geographic’s “Wonderful World of Lichen.” (spoiler alert) Lichens are symbiotic associations of a fungus (the mycobiont) with a photosynthetic partner (the photobiont also known as the phycobiont) that can produce food for the lichen from sunlight.

Outdoor budgetarian activities may include tree watching. Tree watching is very similar to bird watching only the expense of binoculars is eliminated as most trees will allow you to get up quite close. But remember, the best things in life are free, like air!

That’s right air (now fortified with greenhouse gas). It’s free, it’s fun and it comes in assorted smokey flavours. Breathe in as much as you like. Go outside and make a lung-sucking pig of yourself.

As you might imagine, grocery coupons play a very important role in the life of a budgetarian. Besides doubling as reading material and therefore entertainment, the grocery coupon also holds monetary value. A stack of grocery coupons can also make your wallet appear quite thick and impressive.

Speaking of thick and impressive, sex is a fine budgetarian activity – as long as you’re only practicing. Ah yes, while all the rich couples are out impressing each other and lusting after each others possessions, budgetarians are forced to remain at home and lust after each other. This is good for the marriage. And remember, divorce is very expensive. Divorce is not good for anyone, especially budgetarians.

Finally, you may ask, Tim, budgetarian Guru of the 37th degree and penurious keeper of the holy underwear of 1977, what is the secret to true financial happiness?

Well my young grasshopper, if you have any budgetarian friends, especially friends whose surname happens to be ‘Jones’ – you must invite them over for the evening. For if their name is Jones and they are true budgetarians, it will be so much easier to keep up with the Jones’.

As for anyone out there approaching financial doomsday, ha, ha, ha! You can now laugh in the face of the inevitable economic reckoning knowing that with superior planning and some helpful tips from a qualified budgetarian master, you too can live a full and relatively money-free life.

Leave a comment

Filed under Economy, funny, humor, humour, Life

Size Matters

By Tim Cerantola

If you think heavy traffic, over-crowded subways or wacky mayors are Toronto’s biggest problems, think again. In case you haven’t heard, Toronto has real problems now. I just found out that the CN Tower no longer has bragging right to the tallest pointy thing on the planet.

In fact, it’s much worse than that. The CN Tower has sunk to 5th place and will slip into 6th place within a month or so when One World Trade Center in New York achieves its full height. This is embarrassing.

The tallest tower honors belong to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. At 828 meters, it is 313 meters taller than Toronto’s beloved 515-meter TV antenna. So what, you say? Hey, when it comes to long pointy things, don’t let them fool you, size matters.

Really, check it out at Skyscraperpage.com. They have a listing of all the world’s present and proposed tallest buildings where, not only will you find that the CN Tower has been soundly disgraced, you will find that it has taken a severe verbal beating as a tower has-been. It’s only a matter of time before they start to refer to our tower as the CN Stub.

Now as a typical “Joe” Canadian and former Torontonian, these latest skyscraper developments strike a sad chord within me. The nerve of those upstart Dubai-ians and their Burj Khalifa. Don’t they realize that since Canada’s decline as the “most polite/nice guy” country on the planet, many of us have placed what’s left of our national pride in our freestanding structures?

Really, the fact that Canada could lay claim to the tallest thing sticking out of the ground was pretty much the main reason why many of us even bother to get out of bed and go to work. I don’t know about you, but every time I drive by that tower, I look up and feel good about Canada.

“Look kids,” I’ll say as my heart swells with pride. “It’s the world’s tallest freestanding structure!” Of course they usually respond with a curt but patriotic, “Who cares about a dumb tower? Keep your eyes on the road!”

To think, for years we’ve been able to say that ours is bigger than theirs. People respect that sort of thing. But when you suddenly find your pillar of pride has come up short, you start to lose your confidence.

Sure, I’ve heard talk of getting our tower an extension. I’ve seen ads for those kinds of things in the back of some magazines – but trust me, those things never work. Just as you’re about to say, “Hey, look at me!” They almost always fall off.

My point is, without the CN Tower to boast about, as far as the world is concerned, Canada is nothing but snow, polar bears and cold air masses. 

As for the city of Toronto, in order to merit the “world class” designation they so desperately aspire to; they’re definitely going to need a biggest or largest something-or-other to show off to rest of the planet. San Francisco has its Golden Gate Bridge. Sydney has its Opera House. Paris has the Eiffel and New York City has too many to name. If Toronto doesn’t do something quick, they’ll be stuck with the world’s 6th tallest freestanding structure. And let’s face it, who gives a rat’s backside about a sixth-banana tower?

If only I were Superman, I’d go over to Ontario Place, pull that white golf ball of an Imax theatre out by its roots, fly it to the top of the CN Tower and then bolt that sucker in place. Not only would that give our tower some much needed extra height, it would add a new tourist draw to the tower as Canada could lay claim to the world’s tallest golf tee. God’s golf tee!

I guess this whole mine-is-bigger-than-yours business got started long ago. Historically speaking, “tower-envy” started in 1372 in Pisa, Italy – upon completion of their famous Tower of Pisa.

Indeed, their skyscraping monolith gave Pisa world tower supremacy. People came from all around just to check out the view from its lofty skypod, rising a full 117 feet above the ground. It was said that from the top, on a clear day, you could see for 3 or 4 blocks.

Of course, it didn’t take long (OK, it took over 400 years) before another tower, London’s 320 foot “Big Ben” ended Pisa’s tower reign. (Said Big Ben to Leaning Tower of Pisa: If you have the inclination, I have the time).

Needless to say, the people of Pisa were saddened. Their tower and hence their town, had lost status along with the tourist bucks that came with it. But that’s when something miraculous happened.

Whether it was dumb luck or whether it was the tower’s most frequent visitor, Big-Fat Tony LoPresti – who sat and ate his lunch on the same side of the tower everyday (he refused to revolve with the other diners). Anyway, the tower started to lean noticeably to one side.

Naturally, the first thing Pisa’s town fathers did was ban Big-Fat Tony from the tower. But then something amazing started to happen. The tourists were returning to Pisa to see their tower. People no longer cared about its height. They came to see it for its unique leaning quality. For the first time in history, size didn’t matter.

OK, I guess I’m drifting here.

The point is, it was inevitable that Toronto would one day lose tallest-tower bragging rights. So, why not give Big Fat Tony a call? Imagine, the World’s Tallest Leaning Tower.

Leave a comment

Filed under Canada, funny, humor, humour, Life, Toronto

Car Wars and the Modern Day Road Warrior

The other week, my dearest aunt, who is 91 years old and no longer drives, asked me to drive her to a medical appointment. Naturally, I was happy to do her the favour.

Now, to a 91-year-old, getting out of the house, even if only for a visit to the doctor’s, can be quite an event. For days, from the way she talked about it, you would think she was going on a long journey. Seriously, I was surprised she didn’t bring luggage. Anyway, I picked her up and off we drove.

Traffic was very heavy that day and on numerous occasions I was forced to drive a little more aggressively than usual. Needless to say, I had to bend a couple of road rules along the way. As it would happen, I didn’t yield or merge or yerge or mield or whatever it is you’re supposed to do when you see one of these bothersome road signs.

Personally, I always thought a yield sign meant ‘hurry up and merge’ – so, in very thick traffic, I abruptly zipped into the traffic flow. My auntie was not amused.

“My dear, dear boy!” (Translation: You stupid, stupid boy). “You’re not supposed to do that.” (Translation: You are an idiot!).

“I have to get a little aggressive auntie to get you there on time.” I replied.

“If you don’t get me to an early grave first.” She replied.

To be sure, a “Merge” sign is very important as it indicates that two lanes of traffic must blend into one. This is a very important road sign because the laws of physics clearly state that two cars cannot occupy the same space at the same time – unless of course, you’re in parallel universes.

(These two vehicles are obviously in the same universe).

Now, my aunt has always been a little apprehensive when it came to my driving. You see, as a teenager I developed a “reputation” in our family as being a bit unrefined behind the wheel. OK, perhaps my ‘wild behind the wheel’ reputation was a bit deserved as, like many other testosterone toxic teenaged twits back then, only three of the cars’ controls seemed to matter to me; the gas pedal, the steering wheel and, of course, the volume control on the radio. Things like signal indicators, hazard lights and that pedal thing on the floor that, from what it claims in the manual, will actually make the car slow down, well…

Traffic was heavier than usual as I checked my rear and side view mirrors for an opportunity. I needed to make a lane change to get over to my exit. All I needed was the smallest gap so that I could nose my car in. I seized the first opportunity, swiftly squeezing my car into the next lane to the dismayed honk of another driver.

“Oh my gawd!” My auntie shrieked. “Only crazy people do things like that. Have you completely lost your mind?”

“But I had plenty of room auntie.” I pleaded.

“You may think so, but that driver is waving at you – and he’s only using one finger.” She retorted. “You didn’t even signal.”

My aunt comes from the old school of driving – the one where they still give right away to horse drawn carts and always use their signal indicator. If you’re not sure what that is, it’s that annoying little knobby doo-hicky thing attached to the steering column that seems to be connected to that irritating little green arrow light that flashes on your dashboard display.

In defense of my failure to signal, years ago while commuting daily into Toronto, I learned that while negotiating bumper-to-bumper traffic, it was better not to signal your intent. If you do, all the other drivers will immediately know what you’re up to and they’ll close up all the gaps.

Seriously, whenever I signal, I can almost hear all the other drivers conspire.

“Stop him! He’s trying to make a lane change!”

Then, gnashing their teeth in anger, they all squeeze up close together and pretend not to notice me – and then I don’t get to exit until I’m 250 miles down the road, in Detroit!

If you want to get anywhere in heavy traffic, it’s best to take the other drivers by surprise with a swift, spur-of-the-moment lane change. Seriously, in the rare occurrence when the traffic gods smile upon you and some guy actually lets you in, it doesn’t mean he’s a nice guy. It probably means he wasn’t paying attention.

Anyway, as we neared the doctors’ office, it seemed that every car on the road was in an awful hurry. Then, a traffic light turned yellow as one, two, three and finally our car zipped through the intersection as I watched the yellow light change to red.

“To think, I survived a Nazi occupation in World War II but it will be a trip to the doctors in 2014 that will be the end of me.”

“Oh auntie, it’s not so bad.” I defended.

“Oh nothing!” She argued. “I shouldn’t have had that bran muffin for breakfast because now, because of your maniacal driving, things are… are…, well, they’re moving. There’s a Denny’s. I’m going to need a pit stop.”

I stopped and my aunt went inside.

I Am A Road Warrior

These days, we modern day road warriors must battle for every inch of pavement we can get. Courteous driving only bewilders the other drivers. Trust me, it’s better if you just yell, flip them the bird and then try to run them off the road.

Anyway, I got my aunt to her appointment safely – that is if you don’t count her elevated blood pressure. It seems that my aunt’s blood pressure was a bit on the high side when her doctor checked.

Auntie said the doctor was pleased with her over all health but was a bit concerned about her high blood pressure – not to mention the pale, wild-eyed look of terror on her face. My aunt assured him that she was fine and that her blood pressure will be idyllic next time – when she takes the bus.

Leave a comment

Filed under Canada, funny, humor, humour, Life

Calling All Phone Monkeys

by timo cerantola

Telephone solicitations have become a problem at our house as we’ve been getting far too many of them lately, especially at supper time. As a result, we have now instituted a house rule on all telephone solicitations. The answer is always no. We do not do business with telemarketers and we don’t care whether they’re calling to save us money or give us money.

I even wrote a little poem for when telemarketers call.

“Our carpets are clean, our ducts are sucked and our lawn we never spray. Our driveway is sealed, we’re eating right now so please, just go away.”

So, the other night at supper, when the phone rang as per usual, I answered.

“Good evening Mr. Seranantaranoli, my name is Wilma Flintstone and I’m with “yada-yada” (name withheld to protect the guilty) incorporated. I’m calling to offer you something ‘special’. Do you feel you have enough insurance?”

I used my poem on her. She called me a nut and hung up. So I guess the poem works.

Last night I should have used the poem again but I broke our telephone solicitation rule when I heard her voice. When asked if I had the time, I said, with my mouth full, “(crunch, munch) sure, I guess so (munch, crunch). What can I do for you? She had a really nice voice. It kind of felt like I was talking to Angelina Jolie (whom I’ve had a crush on since I was 43).

“Could you answer a few questions for our survey?” She began with her sexy Angelina Jolie voice.

“I guess so Angelina, uh, I mean, sure, absolutely.” I gushed.

Question # 1 “Do you own or rent?” She asked.

“Are you selling home improvements?” I queried. “No, it’s just a survey.” She said.

“We own.” I replied.

#2. “Do you have area or wall to wall carpeting?”

“Wall to wall.” I replied. “Are you selling carpet cleaning?”

“No!” She said. “It’s just a marketing survey.

# 3. What type of vacuum do you own, upright or canister?”

“Ah ha!” I bursted. “Vacuum cleaners. You’re selling vacuum cleaners.” I exclaimed triumphantly.

“No!!!” She said.

“Canister.” I sputtered.

#4. What brand name is your lawn mower?”

You’re oddly curious, I thought. “The Sears brand.” I answered. “What in God’s name are you selling?” I blurted.

If she wasn’t trying to sell me something, maybe she was surreptitiously trying to indoctrinate me into some weird telephone sales cult. She was trying to turn me into some kind of mindless marketing moonie!

“Hurry up and tell me what it is I’m not buying!” I demanded.

She wouldn’t, so I politely said good night and put the phone down. I never did find out what it was that I didn’t want.

Oh well, the next time some phone monkey calls me, I have a new plan. Next time I’m going to say, “Sorry, I can’t talk right now but give me your home number and I’ll call you back when I’m free. By the way, what time do you usually have supper?

Leave a comment

Filed under funny, humor, humour, Life