- We All Must Play the Hand We’re Dealt
- More Adventures in Space and Time in the Joe-ma-Tron
- More News thru a Misty Lens!
- Secrets Of The Hunger Games – Parts 1 thru 14
- Joe Interviews and Mesmerizes Charlize Theron – wait, that was just a dream.
I Remember Aunt Lulu – Sort Of
My main memory of my Aunt Lulu is her apparent dyspeptic personality. She always looked like she needed a Tums. Something had gone down wrong at dinner, and was sitting uneasily in her stomach. And her face wasn’t happy about it.
Of course, as a boy barely old enough to use two hands to count my age, I wasn’t great at interpreting facial expressions. I’m still not. In fact, I can barely recognize faces, let alone interpret them. I certainly didn’t understand that time weathers the fairest skin, and expressions can be misleading. So although she always looked a bit belligerent to my young eyes, she treated me very kindly. Her countenance and her deportment just didn’t seem to match. She was Winston Churchill with Betty Boop’s personality.
Today: Savor the Flavor
When did you realize your childhood wasn’t going to last forever?
Time moves so slowly for the young. Waiting for Christmas to come, anticipating a trip to the amusement park, praying for school to end and summer to begin – these can create the illusion that time is endless. Each grade level of school takes an eternity, so childhood obviously is forever.
I remember with aching clarity the moment my bubble of youth was burst. As usually happens, it was a mundane moment, one that had no right to affect me in any way, but it went ahead and intruded on my oblivious bliss.
I Like ALL Kinds of Music!
People often say they like all kinds of music. They say it, but I never believe it. “Really? ALL kinds? So a rap polka would be on your playlist?” I like a variety of music, but I wouldn’t say I like all music.
For instance, I’ve never liked reggae music. To me, reggae sounds like the band has synchronized hiccups. Whenever some reggae comes on, I shout at the radio, “Can’t you guys all hold your breath for a while? Or take a big drink of water together?” I can’t imagine how Eric Clapton shot the sheriff with his body spasmodically jerking. I imagine a reggae artist’s EKG must give a cardiologist fits.
What Women Want, Part Two
Last time, we gazed into the Misty Mirror and reflected on what women want. I believe, after diligent research, back-breaking work, and dumb luck (my strong suit) that part of the answer is: vacuuming.
Some of my female friends and enemies tell me that these and similar theories are sexist, and do women a heinous injustice. In fact, they say it is belittling to women to assume that they want anything from a man, as if they are not self-sufficient and complete in their own right. It is also possible women simply want to be left alone. Many apparently are hungry for some precious free time away from those of the beefier persuasion. Some may feel that men are just a burden to be borne, except for the times when they really want something, but they won’t tell us because we should already know, and – I’m getting a headache again.
What Women Want, Part One
I recently saw an old Mel Gibson movie with the provocative title, “What Women Want.” Naturally, I was hoping to discover this morsel of information, so long sought-after by males hungering to please the women in their lives. The movie proved to be moderately amusing, but ultimately a scam, as it never did say what women want, unless it was implying that women want Mel Gibson.
Long Time No See! Do I Know You?
There’s a recurring scene in my life. A complete stranger approaches me, and when within striking distance, calls me by name and asks how I’ve been. And I ask myself, “Who is this person?” I would swear I’d never met them before. But it always turns out that we know each other in some manner. I just didn’t realize it.
Evidently I have a small issue with facial recognition. I spent most of my life unaware of this. Believe me, I have no trouble telling Angelina Jolie from Brad Pitt, or Charlize Theron from Charlie Sheen. Those distinctions are crystal clear. But if it’s someone I’ve met only nine or ten times, or it’s been more than a month or so, well…
The Four Seasons, Part 1: Spring Rears its Ugly Head
Run, take cover, for the scariest reason,
We’re under assault from the meanest season.
One day we freeze, the next we swelter.
God help us, it’s spring, gimme shelter!
Happy first day of spring! Can I join you in your bomb shelter? Seriously, I have no idea why spring has such a wonderful reputation. If you like tornados, severe thunderstorms, blizzards, and hail the size of cannon balls, then spring is your thing. If none of those suit you, wait till next week. Spring probably has a tsunami or volcano eruption up its sinister sleeve. Or maybe some good old-fashioned Biblical flaming hailstones.
Prophets without Honor
Prophets are said to be without honor in their own countries. In the same way, our family and closest friends often don’t recognize our superhero qualities. They’re too close to us. Our warts fill their field of vision, preventing them from seeing our true selves. They need to back up (and in some cases back off) until they see that our warts are truly beauty marks. Warts give us character. Quirks give us personality. Warts and quirks, for males, can be signs of rugged individualism, which is one of my best qualities. It just doesn’t come through in photos. Or in person.
Come On, Get Appy!
We gaze in the Misty Mirror today to bring the world of apps into focus. Smartphone users are always hunting for and hungry for the newest, trendiest apps. The reason they’re always hungry is that today’s apps aren’t satisfying. Like the worst kinds of junk foods, most apps are lightweight and packed with non-nutritive fillers, leaving the user craving something with more substance. In the Joe Zone, we’re all about healthy, nutritious apps that leave the user satisfied, and with lower cholesterol levels. Down with Twinkie™ apps!
Wedding Dress Emporium
Let me get this right out in the open: Mrs. Zone collects wedding dresses. Scads of wedding dresses. Heaps of wedding dresses. Herds of wedding dresses. From out of the blue, without warning, completely unexpectedly (have we been redundant enough yet?), we have stumbled into a wedding dress emporium, here in a lacy corner of the Joe Zone.