Who shaves 10 times a day and still has a beard? The barber.

Hmmm… I seem to have forgotten to click the publish button here on the wordpress mirror of ramblingmoose.com . . . Sorry folks, here ya go!  Hope you enjoy!  Monday morning and I need more coffee (wanders off muttering at clouds like Abe Simpson…)

 

 

There’s a sign behind a bar in Alaska…
“Your tab paid if you drink a toe whisky, fight a bear and make love to a Lumber-Jane”

A guy has been drinking all day and realises his tab might be bigger than his wallet so he asks the bartender about the sign.

“Sure, you just drink a big glass of that whisky with the toe in it, giving the toe a nice kiss.

Then we got a bear that come round back and messes with the trash and you gotta send her packing. Finally, Mary-Jane is the girl with arms like Popeye. Seduce her and you tab is paid”

The guy agrees and gets poured the whisky with the toe. In two gulps he manages to drink it all, then fishes out the toe and gives it a kiss.

Dropping the toe back in the bottle, the bartender says “well that’s the first one done. Go see if that bear is around”

Wobbling outside, the man goes round to the trash bins and finds a huge grizzly sniffing around.

“I ain’t watching this” says the barman and heads back inside. Through the window there is the sound of growling, shouting, roaring, screaming, clawing and gnashing for about 30 minutes.

Finally the door opens and the man crawls in. “Alright, where’s this woman I’ve got to fight?”

What’s black and white and goes “oom! oom!”? A cow walking backwards.

I have a habit of playing a game with names. Not with people’s names, they tend to get attached to them. This is with dogs. If I hear a strange word, I consider how it would sound if I was trying to call my dog back to me.

It’s strange enough calling “Rack” back, but he seems to like to be called, regardless.

There was Ubu who used to sit on TV. Things like that.

Then there is this particular guy.

 
A robber breaks into a house while the residents are away one dark night.
Eager to see what he can loot, he quickly starts searching through cupboards and dressers, grabbing valuables with a trained eye.

Suddenly, he hears a voice come out of nowhere. “Jesus is watching you.”
The criminal jumps, scared the residents are back, and freezes.
After a few minutes of silence however, he assumes it was his imagination, and goes back to robbing.
A couple minutes pass, before once again, the voice returns. “Jesus is watching you.”
Quite confused, the thief searches the house and checks the front door, but nothing pops out as unusual.
He finally decides to move rooms, and finds a parrot, but ignores it.

Before he can begin to do anything, someone speaks again, “Jesus is watching you.”
The robber realized it was the parrot talking! Going to the parrot, he asks it, “Are you the one who’s been talking to me?”
The parrot responds, “Yes.” The thief couldn’t believe it. So, he asks another question. “What is your name?” “Ismael.” the parrot replies.
The man scoffed. “What type of idiot names a parrot Ismael?”
The parrot speaks yet again, “The same type of idiot that names a Rottweiler Jesus.”

What Are Fridge Bread And Butter Pickles And Why Haven’t I Tried This Before Now?

I am on Day Three of letting this brew in the fridge.  Opened one jar up and started nibbling.

I finished the Jar.

They Were THAT Good!

I think the answer to that is my father.

Being from a German family in Easton Pennsylvania, he always loved to have Pickles.

One day I tried them.  YUCK!  His pickles were salty and strong, garlicky and overly peppery and spicy.  No thank you!

I got well past that, never willingly had another one until I was well past my teens.  I then tried what they called a “Bread and Butter” pickle.

“Hmm, I rather like this!”

They are called that because people during The Depression had plain bread with butter on it, put pickles on it, and called that a sandwich.

Luckily we have better these days since that is just carbs and fat.

Even though we do, these pickles are well worth the hour it took for me to make five jars of them.

This is from the gift that keeps giving.  Ann, down the block, asked me to help her clear out her fridge and gave me a big ol’ bag of fruit and vegetables.  The Apples were made into an Apple Pie.  The Carrots I snacked on.  The Oranges are split between me and Oscar.

And two Cucumbers.   I was low on pickles, and remembered my Cousin in Nebraska makes these all the time because “These are so darn easy!”.   I think he added a “Go Big Red” after it, not sure.

So I tried.  It’s basically Mc Cormick’s recipe, so if you can’t understand me, try there.   I did add a teaspoon of Celery Seed, a half teaspoon of Ground Cloves, and a teaspoon of Turmeric.  Consider that last bit optional.  I subbed in a whole white onion instead of using the 1/2 cup of dried onions because I had the onion.  I rather liked that pickled too!

Ingredients:

  • 2 Pounds (1 Kilo) of Cucumbers, sliced and cleaned
  • 1 Pound (one medium where I shop) Whole Sweet Onion  (White, Vidalia, or similar)
  • 2 Cups White Distilled Vinegar (5% acidity)
  • 2 Tablespoons of Non Iodized Salt (Don’t really know why not iodized, it worked for me)
  • 2 Teaspoons Pickling Spice
  • 2 Teaspoons Whole Mustard Seed
  • 1 Teaspoon Ground Turmeric (for color)
  • 1 Teaspoon Celery Seed
  • 1/2 Teaspoon Ground Cloves

Process:

  • Clean and cut your Cucumbers and Onions into at least 1/8 inch thick slices.
  • Fill sterilized jars with Cucumber and Onion pieces allowing 1/2 inch of room at the top.
  • To a 3 quart/liter sauce pan, add Vinegar and all of the spices.
  • Bring the mixture to boil and reduce heat to Simmer and stir constantly.
  • Cook the mixture for 5 Minutes minimum until all the sugar has dissolved
  • Ladle the mixture into the jars to cover the Cucumbers and onions.
  • Seal jars and allow to cool before placing in refrigerator.
  • Shake the jars daily.
  • Allow the jars to “steep” in the mixture a minimum of 3 days before enjoying.
  • Shake the pickles every third day.
  • Enjoy your pickles within 2 months and store in refrigerator.

Some guys will stand 5’8” away from you and call it 6’.

Wow, A Joke in Metric and you don’t even need to know that a Meter is 10 Percent more than a Yard!

 

Frenchman in Morocco

A Frenchman seeking some thrills travels to Morocco and decides to go bungee jumping off the top of mosques. As he bounces back into the air, all of the passerby in Morocco are in awe and one Moroccan passerby decides that he wants to try it himself.

He finds the Frenchman at a nearby cafe and sits down and remarks, “Wow, that looked really fun! Can you tell me about your stunts?”

Yeah, of course!” The Frenchman replies. “It’s called bungee jumping- all you need is 10 meters of sturdy rope and you’re set. ”

The Moroccan is delighted to know that he doesn’t need any qualifications and goes to buy some a sturdy rope from a nearby store. After his purchase, he climbs to the top of a mosque, tethers the rope to a secure fastener and jumps. But instead of bouncing up and down, he hits the ground at full speed and dies instantly.

The Moroccan police launch an investigation and detain the Frenchman and the store clerk. The police ask the Frenchman what he taught the Moroccan and the Frenchman says that he was precise in his measurements and doesn’t know how he could have died. “I swear, I told him to get only 10 meters of rope!” he exclaims.

“Oh, Merde!” the clerk suddenly exclaims. “He did ask me for 8 meters of rope, but because I know his cousins, I gave him 5 extra meters for free!”

A friend of mine claims he can throw a stick 5 miles and his pet dog will retrieve it but I think that’s a bit far fetched.

I guess I am feeling generous because here you have a triple play. Three short jokes.

Ba dum bum bum … er bum?

 

Heavy carry-on

A businessman was having a tough time lugging his lumpy, oversized travel bag onto the plane.
Helped by a flight attendant, he finally managed to stuff it in the overhead bin.
“Do you always carry such heavy luggage?” she sighed.
“No more,” the man said. “Next time, I’m riding in the bag, and my partner can buy the ticket!”

 

Divorce

A salesman was testifying in his divorce proceedings against his wife.”Please describe,” said his attorney, “the incident that first caused you to entertain suspicions as to your wife’s infidelity.”

“Well, I’m pretty much on the road all week,” the man testified. “So naturally when I am home, I’m attentive to the wife.”

One Sunday morning,” he continued, “we were in the midst of some pretty heavy lovemaking when the old lady in the apartment next door pounded on the wall and yelled,

‘Can’t you at least stop all that racket on the weekends?'”

 
Mr Carrot was out riding his motorcycle on a beautiful day.
Suddenly a car cuts in front of him and he goes flying off his bike. A few hours later Mrs Carrot gets a call from the hospital. “Mrs. Carrot, this is Dr. Carrot, and I’m calling you to let you know that your husband got into a terrible accident.”

“Oh my gosh, no! Is he ok?” she asks

“Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news” the good doctor says.

“What’s the good news?” she asks.

“He’ll live” the doctor replies.

“So, what’s the bad news” she inquired.

“Well, he wasn’t wearing a helmet and he’s going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life”

It’s a McNab Dog’s Life With Rack

All my dogs have been Rescues.

They have both been McNab Dogs or a cross.

Not that there is anything wrong with a Golden Retriever, they are a living hug.  German Shepherds are great dogs, but I’m a big guy and people shy away from me already.  There are a lot of Greyhounds around that need homes, and if you ever want something on your couch sleeping, they are a good bet since they are mellow and regal in their bearing.

But I have a McNab.  They’re not well known outside of their native California, except with cowboys and ranchers and farmers.  I am none of that, I did IT in my career.

Not being well known is a good thing.  The breed hasn’t been wrecked by overbreeding.

Rack is an interesting character though.

You see, there seem to be two different kinds of McNabs.  The kinds that have to be heavily and independently occupied are working dogs with a Capital W.  They’re the ones that you send out to the back 40 to round up the cows and expect them to work those beasts to better than your best expectation.

Rack is, well he’s different.

He got off to a bad start.  I expect that it was because he’s allergic to chicken and grain.  They probably fed him that and it might be why I ended up with him in the first place.

Having to pick up something that looks like Melted Soft Serve Ice Cream from the living room rug twice a day until I found out what caused it was uncomfortable to say the least.

Also he has a strong fear of Diesel Trucks and Loud Noises.  I’m guessing the first owner was either a hunter or a truck driver and fed him some KFC one too many times in the cab of the truck.

No matter what breed, an intelligent dog needs a job.  It’s true for Rack, as well as it is true for any Border Collie, Kelpie, Poodle, or Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.

That last one is the only small dog I would consider.  They are in the “Top Ten” intelligent dog lists.  If I ever need to slow down who knows what will happen.

I am his job.

You see, while those ranchers won’t sell a City Person a McNab, many of these same dogs are smart enough to know that life on the farm is not for them.  They simply “up and leave”.  The dog goes missing and needs a home.

Shelters in Northern California, Reno Nevada, Fresno, and similar places are chock full of these amazing dogs.  I’ve said I want to just drive my Jeep around those areas with the doors off of the car and the roof down and if a dog chooses to jump in, I’ll have my next one.

That would take a four day drive so it isn’t going to happen.  Some nice ideas are just best being ideas only.

Those dogs were on a farm because a person thought they knew best.  Usually they do, sometimes not.

All day long, I am home.  I’m up before dawn.  We go for our first mile walk and by the end I’m being towed home so he can get water and food.  Then off to his corner where he guards against the evil delivery trucks.

He can spot a UPS truck before that thing gets onto my block.

If I get out of my desk and walk somewhere, I usually will hear paws on the pavement, toes on the tiles.  Turn around and the white tip of a tail is heading back to His Place In The Corner.

My fault, I keep half of the house blocked off because I would rather have a wet nose on my elbow once an hour than be alone here to my music on the noise-canceling headphones.

When I am finished, my rocker is next to His Spot.  I’ll entertain myself while he’s there sleeping.  Next to me, I’ll look down at the DogBall (TM) that is resting there.

Whoever said “it’s a dog’s life” never met us.

He knows the neighborhood, and will choose our routes.   I make it a point to do more than two miles a day, and a true farm dog will walk many times that.

I’m more like a greyhound anyway.  If I am not on my skates burning 2000 calories a workout, or weightlifting on off days, I’ll lounge around.

Can’t use the Bowflex with a dog nosing your toe lifts so he’s excluded.

Ironically I got Lettie, my first McNab Dog Of A Lifetime to be a companion on my own skate workouts.

She could not keep up so we didn’t take her on my trips.  I would skate 100 miles a week in peak season and we thought it best not to do that to a dog, even if I would have shortened my distances for her.The thing is that if you include a dog in most of your activities, you will find a balance, and you will find peace.

Isn’t that why our species have grown together all these centuries?

 

I tried giving a giant a pedicure. It was no small feat.

Any time I find a good story I like it. The more Double Entendres, double meanings, I can find, the better.

 

A female class teacher was having a problem with a boy in her 3rd grade class.

The boy said, “Madam, I should be in Grade 4. I am smarter than my sister & she’s in Grade 4”.

The Madam had heard enough and took the boy to the principal. The principal decided to test the boy with some questions from Grade 4.

Principal: What is 3+3?

Boy: 6.

Principal: 6+6.

Boy: 12.

The boy got all the questions right. The principal told the Madam to send the boy to Grade 4 immediately. The Madam decided to ask her own questions and the principal agreed.

Madam: What does a cow have 4 of that I have only 2?

Boy: Legs.

Madam: What is in your trousers that I don’t have?

Boy: Pockets.

Madam: What starts wit a C and ends with T, is hairy, oval, delicious and contains thin, whitish liquid?

Boy: Coconut.

Madam: What goes in hard & then comes out soft & sticky?

The principal’s eyes opened really wide, but before he could stop the answer, the boy was taking charge

Boy: Bubble gum.

Madam: You stick your pole inside me. You tie me down to get me up, I get wet before you do.

Boy: Tent.

The principal was looking restless.

Madam: A finger goes in me. You fiddle with me when you are bored. The best man always has me first?.

Boy: Wedding ring.

Madam: I come in many sizes. When I’m not well, I drip. When you blow me, you feel good?

Boy: Nose.

Madam: I have a stiff shaft. My tip penetrates, I come with a quiver.

Boy: Arrow.

Principal: OH MY GOD.

Madam: What starts with ‘F’ and ends wit a ‘K’ and if you don’t get it, you have to use your hand?

Boy: Fork.

Madam: What is it that all men have, it’s longer in some men than others, the Pope doesn’t use his and a man gives it to his wife after marriage?

Boy: Surname.

Principal: Ohooo!

Madam: What part of the man has no bone but has muscles with a lot of veins like pumpkin and is responsible for making love?

Boy: Heart.

Principal: Eeeeeh!

The principal breathed a sigh of relief and said to the Madam, “Send this bloody boy to the university. I myself got all the answers wrong!”

An aspiring thief entered a play. He stole the spotlight.

I remember when I was very small there were a lot of programs on the TV about crime. I guess the lingering memories about the Mob Era in Chicago kept those pot boilers simmering along.

On the other hand, everybody loves laughing at someone who is a bit clueless.

 

A Mafia Godfather finds out that his bookkeeper, Guido, has cheated him out of $10,000,000.

His bookkeeper is deaf and mute . When the Godfather goes to confront Guido about his missing $10 million, he takes along his lawyer who knows sign language.

The Godfather tells the lawyer, “Ask him where the money is!”

The lawyer, using sign language, asks Guido, “Where’s the money?”

Guido signs back, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The lawyer tells the Godfather, “He says he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Godfather pulls out a pistol, puts it to Guido’s head and says, “Ask him again or I’ll kill him!”

The lawyer signs to Guido, “He’ll kill you if you don’t tell him.”

Guido trembles and signs, “OK! You win! The money is in a brown briefcase, buried behind the shed at my cousin Bruno’s house.”

The Godfather asks the lawyer, “What did he say?”

The lawyer replies, “He says you don’t have the guts to pull the trigger!”

Is It Time To Resume Your Moderate to Extreme Workouts?

Think of this as a Sports Medicine Question: Is it time to go back to working out?

The short answer is probably.

The longer one is a bit more complex.

Although I really could use a proper gym, complete with free weights, universal, and nautilus stations, I personally truly won’t consider setting foot inside of a gym until I have that vaccine in my arm for COVID-19.

My own experiences as a client in a gym and as a trainer prove to me that “All Y’all are Nasty”. 

Meaning that if you creatures won’t wipe down a bench after you use it, you certainly won’t take the time to wear a mask to workout and then wipe down that bench with a pandemic brewing.

No, seriously.  There was this Professor Emeritus at Temple University who worked out in the faculty gym at the same time as me who we called “Sweaty Betty” because her nasty ass left puddles of sweat and got actually violent if you called her on that.

But that is besides the point.

Now, in the concept of outdoor workouts, this is a lot safer to do the areas that COVID is in decline.

Huh?

The Hospitals in South Florida are beginning to do elective surgeries, and that is what is more important than some idiot sitting in the Governor’s Chair making Politically Influenced decisions that are not necessarily appropriate to you personally retaining your own life.

Bottom Line is “If The Emergency Room Of Your Hospital Is Not Available For You If You Injure Yourself Do Not Workout In A Sport That Can Cause Injury”. 

This applies anywhere else in the world – you have to be aware of how to get help if your own first aid skills are not sufficient to get you safely home. 

While I historically maintained First Aid Certification to assist myself and others, I’m neither a doctor, nor an EMT.

However, I am an Expert or Elite Inline Skater (Speed, Distance, and Marathon), and a Trainer.  I have skated 21,900 plus miles since 1992 and counting.

… and I have injured myself a number of times, thankfully no breaks.

However, I recognize that is a possibility.

Secondly, Wear A Mask, No Excuses.

I was out on the trails and it showed an interesting pattern.

Casual exercisers such as casual walkers and strollers, and short distance exercisers did not wear masks.

Serious exercisers such as Skaters (Yo!  Represent!), Distance Runners, and Distance Bikers were wearing masks and other face coverings.

The difference is that once you get past a certain point, mere Social Distancing is worthless, and you need to protect yourself.

Third, As You Go Faster, You Are More Exposed To Airborne Contagions.

The reason is that you are pulling a lot of air into your lungs if you are doing any kind of aerobic sports training.  A lot more than normal if sitting at a bench or walking from point A to point B at a normal pace.

I can illustrate that with my own workouts.

Before the world shut down here in March, I was skating 14 miles (22 Km or so) in a 90 minute workout with rest and water stops.  My pace was a heart rate of 165bpm average.  I was doing a 5 minute mile, predictably.  This was without a mask.

The other day I skated with a mask.  Granted, I had sat out two months so my fitness level was down from March, but that does not explain away the results I saw.

I skated shorter distances and slower that day, with a mask and my heart rate illustrated starkly what my body tried to do with less oxygen at sea level.

I ended up skating in sprints.  I was purposely seeking my normal pace of 165 bpm.  However when I approached someone, I pulled the mask up to cover nose and mouth as you see up in the picture.

“Ain’t he pretty?” as Bugs Bunny would say.

It would give me a couple hundred feet of being with limited air flow while struggling to maintain speed.

Maintaining speed is not possible, and heart rate climbed significantly.

While I can maintain a higher heart rate than most at my own fitness level, my heart rate went from 165 to 180-185 bpm almost immediately with mask covering my nose.  Since I was pulling in more air, the mask formed a seal around nose and mouth and filtered that air, but breathing took much more effort.  My speed dropped noticeably.

The conclusion would be in my own opinion…

  • Workout Outdoors is best.
  • Wear your mask
  • Drink plenty of water – hydrate!  You really don’t need those electrolytes, for a moderate workout.
  • Cover up when you are approaching someone.
  • Judge for yourself when it is safe for you to open your mask to get the air you need to succeed in your training.

Oh, and don’t fall!  You don’t want to have to go to an ER – they are way too busy for your own clumsy self!

Know what really grinds my gears? Poor use of the clutch!

So it’s a good story, told well, twice.  I guess Vermont and New England could be described as the Yorkshire of the US, or vice versa.  Both places have reputations for people who tend to be brief and thrifty with their words.

Unlike me.
Vermont farmer

A texas cattle rancher came to visit a Vermont dairy farm.

He gets a tour of the 10 acre farm, and says to the Vermont farmer “This farm aint nothin, my ranch back in Texas is so big, it would take us 3 days just to drive my truck around the whole property”.

The Vermont farmer responds “yup I had a truck like that once”

 

 

A Texan ranch owner

A Texan ranch owner was visiting UK and visited a local pub in a sheep farming area of Yorkshire.  He struck up a conversation with a sheep farmer in the pub.  After a bit of chit chat, the Texan asked the Yorkshireman a question. The conversation went thus:

Texan – “So, how long does it take you to go from one end of your farm to the other”.

Yorkshireman – “about 3 hours to walk from one end to the other”

Texan – “If I get in my car to drive from one end of my ranch to the other, it’ll take me a day”

Yorkshireman, after some pause for thought – “Aye, I used to have a car like that.”