You are currently browsing the daily archive for February 11, 2009.

Perusing the hop-ons from this vid over at the Bovina Bloviator’s, I came across another one that I find amusing:

Who are these Mitchell and Webb people? They’ve got teh funny.

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Roland S. Martin takes on the Hallmark-Zales-FTD Valentine Conspiracy:

Now folks, I love my wife. She is truly an awesome woman who is smart, talented, fine, and, did I say fine? But do I really need a special day to show my affection for her?

I’ve long maintained that if I sent my flowers at other times during the year, why do I have to fall victim to peer pressure and send her some roses that have quadrupled in price leading up to February 14?

Why should I be inundated with mailings, e-mails and commercials to show her that I love her by buying jewelry or clothing? If we went shopping in June or September or last month, can I get some kind of waiver or “Get out of Valentine’s Day” card?

As for this silly flower thing, it’s even got to the point that any flowers can’t do. Some years ago I planned on sending a woman some flowers that weren’t roses, and the (female) co-workers were aghast. They felt that nothing mattered except roses.

First of all, I didn’t have a lot of dough and felt a nice bouquet was sufficient, but they were appalled. So I told them to go to hell and I’ll do what I want. I guess for them, the thought really doesn’t matter.

Then there are the women on the job who measure the love of their men based on those flowers. You know how some folks are. If there are flowers on the desk of 10 other women, and one woman doesn’t have anything, folks get to talking and whispering as if something is wrong in her relationship.

I’ve learned that even if you get the biggest-ever rose bouquet — the relationship might be crumbling and you just refuse to admit it.

And Valentine’s Day really isn’t even a two-way street. Men are utterly irrelevant except to serve as pawns in this commercial game, emptying their wallets in order to satisfy their lovers or those around them. Oh yea, retailers know the con game.

Most of these guys are hapless saps who have ignored their wives or girlfriends all year, so they buy the flowers and candy, and set a reservation at one of the city’s most expensive restaurants, all to say, “Honey, I love you.”

Ladies, and men, stop it! It’s time to say enough is enough with Valentine’s Day.

You betcha!

(Of course, having said this I would also mention that I’ve been dragooned into helping out with the eldest gel’s Valentine’s Day party at school this Friday, and I also had to schedule some out of town business meetings so that I could get home early enough next Friday to attend a “seasonally themed” Cotillion dance with both elder gels.)

I believe I am going to have my surname changed to “Smith”.  I’m getting quite sick and tired of having my current appellation mangled by receptionists, secretaries and other interlocutors.

My name, by the way, is Gambolputty de von Ausfern -schplenden -schlitter -crasscrenbon -fried -digger -dangle -dungle -burstein -von -knacker -thrasher -apple -banger -horowitz -ticolensic -grander -knotty -spelltinkle -grandlich -grumblemeyer -spelterwasser -kürstlich -himbleeisen -bahnwagen -gutenabend -bitte -eine -nürnburger -bratwustle -gerspurten -mit -zweimache -luber -hundsfut -gumberaber -shönendanker -kalbsfleisch -mittler -raucher von Hautkopft of Ulm.

However, it’s actually pronounced “Throat-warbler-mangrove.”

I really don’t see what the problem is.

For those of you interested (mostly Mom and Sis), I may mention that I finally got an almost decent night’s sleep last night, and that, coupled with the kicking in of my God-given sense of the absurdity of life, has me feeling much sunnier this morning than I have felt for the past week.

Thus, I have no particular need to run this Fawlty Towers clip.  Nonetheless, I’m going to anyway, since I had gone to a considerable amount of trouble to find it and it has always been a family favorite:

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