Table of Contents
Frank B. Finite (a "true" atheist)
The Blind Fools Guest Entry Log
My name is pronounced "meekowe"
And don't you forget it!
I have lived several years (because I am fit) and learned a thing or two about life (surviving it). So this makes me very qualified at helping others with their daily survival.
Ergo, that is why I am the "help" writer for this publication.
It takes many random typings to create something coherent, but there's always one that seems to make enough sense to publish.
Well, I'm back - and not soon enough! It was pretty much a disaster and I was pretty much miserable the whole time. And to top things off - Swami Aintchomommy, who went along with me as my personal advisor and psychic friend, got lost the last day and we had to search for him.
But I had to make a showing for the folks. Which I normally wouldn't mind except I know they have been talking to my relatives about my non-marital status.
Everyone kept coming up and saying, "Hey big city boy - when ya gonna get married?" I would respond, "Hey there hayseed - when ya gonna evolve?!" This nipped the "annoying personal questions" thing in the bud.
Since I don't have any articles, (because I spent days looking for lost Swami), I have decided to share some photos of my disastrous vacation. Swami started to tell me to look on the bright side of things, but I immediately interjected by placing my hand in his mouth and grabbing his tongue.
This shut him up.
Anyway, here is the photographic documentation of my little stint with family I hardly know in a place I could hardly stand:
Not only did I have to drive about a whole day to get there, but when I arrived at the park this is what I see. Ohhh great!
It must have took the coordinators of this little shin-dig an hour to come up with an alternate plan. They squealed and grunted until finally somebody made a decision - it was off to uncle Leo's place.
He has a run down farm out in the sticks - which meant about another 45 minutes of driving. But this wasn't all bad because I had a little more time of solitude and I could listen to some good music.
Which is more than I can say for the entertainment they hired . . .
Meet "The Klondike Brothers." They are a local band (and I use the term "band" very loosely) who plays for free hoping to get noticed and make it BIG someday.
Right now they consist of only a fiddler and a percussionist. But they are looking for a lead singer and keyboard player if anyone is interested.
They performed in the barn where we had an old-fashioned square dance and hog scramble.
Their "music" was an an annoying yet interesting mix of bluegrass, soul and uncontrollable body convulsions. I think a keyboard player would help them out.
The entertainment committee also hired a magician for the kids. He billed himself as "Consul - The Magnificent." I billed him as "Consul - The Misfit."
Apparently he hasn't heard that practice makes perfect. But the kids were astounded anyway, which is what matters - I guess .
The best part, though, was when Consul pulled the rabbit out of his hat. It bit him on the hand - and I mean it bit him good! It took two people to pry the jaws loose thus freeing "Consul - The Magnificent."
There was blood everywhere. Kids were screaming and crying. Mothers were running for their children. And the rabbit ran off into the corn field.
I though it was the most entertaining part of his whole performance. He should try working that into his routine.
Meet Aunt Madge and Uncle Leo. They felt that since it was their house that we relocated to, they didn't have to be "host-like". In fact, they wanted guests to serve them drinks and finger sandwiches.
Here they are playing cards like they always do. Not wanting to get up to help out, they would just shout answers to enquiries about where things were.
Aunt Madge won the game. Uncle Leo claims he was distracted too much and voided the game all together - which he can do because he's more fit.
Here's my cousin, Al. He's a bit touched in the head if you know what I mean.
Not only does he refuse to wear any clothes like any normal highly evolved primate, but he always sits ON the table for some strange reason.
Here he is taking medicine not because he's feeling sick, but because he likes the taste. He will slurp it all down like he's eating hot soup on a cold winter morning.
Chicken soup may be good for the soul, but in my family booze is great for the gut.
Aunt Madge didn't want to get any of her dished soiled, so we had to resort to drinking from the water hose. That is except for me because I brought bottled water.
Other family members brought their own version of bottled water as well . . .
Here's cousin Cleo (Uncle Leo's first-born son). He loves the liquor. He loves it a lot. I've told him that going through life tanked all the time is no way to evolve.
He says that he can quit anytime he wants, but since he can't find his watch he doesn't know when that time will actually be.
When Cleo's around, the booze will not be (at least not for very long). Here's a picture of an unidentified relative getting too little too late.
It's unfortunate that we didn't have a religious figure around to supernaturally make some more. That's because I like to watch the family drunks make fools of themselves - it's free entertainment.
But the committee did have some other activities planned as well.
Among drinking, dancing and hog scrambling we had other stuff to do.
There was an egg toss, skeet shooting and video games. But the one thing planned that we couldn't do was have the traditional "missing links" golf tournament.
So we did the next best thing; we had an old-fashioned woodchuck moving target contest. The game goes like this - you get three tries to hit a woodchuck from a hundred yards away by hitting a golf ball.
Here's a picture of the winner, cousin Putterworth.
It probably wasn't fair because he is a golf pro who teaches at the local country club. Actually he caddies for the humans, but he does teach the other chimp caddies the fundamentals of the game.
This day Putterworth snagged four 'chucks.
Notice his tail is a bit deformed. It's too thin and way too long. He's somewhat self-conscious about it which may be what drives him to be the golf master that he is today.
I still say he's a freak no matter how well he can hit a golf ball.
Here's my younger, yet larger brother - Niko. Why is he laying on the ground wincing? Well, he had just twisted his ankle playing volleyball.
What should be told also is that he was a bit inebriated himself. Apparently he had his own stash hidden away from cousin Cleo.
This should be a warning to all you young cubs out there - alcohol and sports do not mix. Unless the alcohol powers your race car, of coarse.