I did not write this.  I am just reprinting a favorite Net tale. Exodus, starring the Three Stooges                Chapter 1           Israel Multiplies.              Moses born;        he befriends two Hebrews 1 And the Egyptians compelled the  sons of Israel to labor rigorously. 2 And the sons of Israel were fruitful, and increased greatly, and became ex- ceedingly mighty. 3 So Pharaoh commanded his people to throw every newborn son into the Nile. 4 And one day Pharaoh's daughter found a basket containing a child among the reeds of the river.  And  she had pity on him and said, "This is one of the Hebrews' children." 5 And she took the child, and raise him, and called him Moses. 6 And one day, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his brethren and looked on their hard labors.  And he   beheld two Hebrews fighting wih each other, and he said to them: "Cut the rumpus or I'll moida the both of yah!" 7 And the offender, a squat man with a high voice, said, "You don't scare me!"  And he stuck out his tongue and said, "Nyaaaaa!" 8 And Moses grabbed his tongue, and he twisted it, and he pulled him several yards by it. 9 And the other Hebrew - a man with a raspy voice and strange hair - laughed mightily.  And Moses smote <him> on the head 10 Then Moses poked their eyes and knocked their heads together. 11 Now these are the names of the Hebrews whom Moses did befriend : 12 Curly, son of Asher and Prancer, brother of Punch and Judah, first cousin to E. Gad, and distant  descendant of Ramses of Los Angeles. 13 Larry, son of Hirah and Hooray, Pokus, and cousin of Esau, Ecame, and Econquered. 14 And both had come from the districts of Midian, Midian-rare, and Midian-well.              Chapter 2          The Boining bush 1 Now Moses, Larry, and Curly set up  a business wherein they sold their services for pasturing other Hebrew's flocks. 2 And one day when they were shearing sheep, when Curly by accident sheared off some of Larry's hair, Larry grew angry, and lunged for him, but Moses bade them stop, and smote them both on the head. 3 And Moses sat down, but upon the shears that Curly had left beneath him, and Moses screamed, and he said, "Why, I'll break your heads!"  And he chased them into the field. 4 And there the angel of the Lord appeared to them in a blazing fire from the midst of a bush. 5 And Curly said, "Ooh, look!  A boining bush! Nyuk-nyuk!" 6 And Moses said, "Quiet, you lame- brain!"  and smote him on the head. 7 And then them became frightened, and turned to run, and the Lord saw, and he called to them from the midst of the bush, saying, "Hey, Moses! Hey Larry!  Hey, Curly!" 8 And they said, "Nyah-ah-ah-ah!" 9 And the Lord said, "Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground." 10 And Larry said, "I'll say it is! And look at all them rocks, too!" 11 And Curly laughed, and Moses smote them on the head. 12 And the Lord said, "I have seen the oppression of my people by the Eqyptians.  Therefore, to bring the sons of Israel out of Eqypt, I will send ... you!" 13 And they were unsure as to who "you" was. 14 And Moses looked at Larry, and Larry looked at Curly, and Curly - who saw he had no one to to look at - trembled and clicked his teeth loudly. 15 And Moses said, "Which `you' do You mean?" 16 And the Lord said, "You!" 17 And Moses said, "I?" 18 And Larry said, "Aye!" 19 And Curly said, "Aye-aye!"  and the three Hebrews began saluting each other vigorously. 20 And the Lord said, "Cut it out!" and they did, and He continued, "Now go and gather the elders of Israel together, and say to them, `The Lord has appeared to us, saying He will bring you out of Eqypt and into the land of Cannan - a land overflowing with sweets!'" 21 And Curly said, "Ooh!  A candy Cannan!  Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!"  And Moses smote him in the stomach, and Curly bent over and Moses smote him on the head.              Chapter 3          Hebrews given powers. 1 And Larry said, "What if they don't listen to us, or vicey-versey?" 2 And the Lord said, "They will.  Now, hold out your left hand," 3 And Larry said to Curly, "Which one is my left hand?"  And Curly said, "That one."  And Larry said, "So how do I know which one is my right hand?" and Curly said, "Why, that's easy! The one that's left!  Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!" 4 And Moses poked them both in the eyes. 5 And the Lord said to Larry, "Now, what is that in your hand?" 6 And Larry looked, and said, "Why, nothin'." 7 And the Lord said, "Not that one, you nitwit!  The other one!" 8 And Larry said, "Oh!" and looked and said, "Why a staff!"  And the Lord said, "Throw it on the ground." And Larry threw it on the ground and it bounced up and hit Moses on the head and stuck in his nose. 9 And Moses pulled the staff from his nose, and Larry said, "I didn't mean it, Moses!  Honest, I didn't!" 10 And Moses said, "Of course you didn't", and hit him on the head with the staff. 11 And the staff became a serpent and Moses said, "Nyah-ah-ah-ah! and dropped it and it slithered up Curly's robe, and Curly said, "Wooo woo woo woo woo woo!"  And he fell to the ground and spun his body wildly in a circle. 12 And Moses and Larry lifted him and shook him and the staff fell to the ground. 13 And the Lord said, "This wonder shall help you convince the sons of Israel of the word of the Lord." 14 But Moses pleaded and said, "Please, Your Majestic High-upness!  We ain't never been eloquential.  Every time it comes to woids, it's ixnay on the voibage, if you know what I mean!" 15 Then the Lord became angry, and said, "Who made man's mouth?  Who makes him blind?  Who makes him deaf?  And, indicating Curly, He said, "Who makes him dumb? 16 "Is it not I, the Lord?!" 17 And they saw His anger and they said, "Nyah-ah-ah-ah!"  And they bowed down, bumping their heads together loudly. 18 And the Lord said, "Go, then, and perform this wonder before the sons of Israel.  Then go to Pharaoh, and say, 'Let my people go, so they may soive - I mean serve - Me!" 19 So Moses, Larry, and Curly assembled all the elders and the sons of Israel, and in their sight the staff became a serpent, and crawled up Curly's robe, and he danced wildly. 2 [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Blogs
Keywords:
Added: Fri, 17 Nov 2006

My favorite member of the British royal family (make that my favourite member) is Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh and husband to Queen Elizabeth II.  He gets my vote not only because of our shared first name, but also because of his wonderful habit for saying the very worst thing at the worst possible time -- and always when microphones are about. Prince Philip's gaffes have brought grief to many royal handlers, but there is a good number of Brits who secretly love his foot-in-mouth disease.  While I acknowledge Prince Philip's penchant for the politically incorrect, I have to admit that he is hilarious in a Borat sort of way. Via Wikipedia, I bring you the best of Prince Philip: Speaking to a driving instructor in Scotland, he asked: "How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to get them through the test?"After accepting a gift from a Kenyan citizen he replied, "You are a woman, aren't you?""If it has four legs and is not a chair, has wings and is not an aeroplane, or swims and is not a submarine, the Cantonese will eat it." (1986)In 1966 he remarked that "British women can't cook." To a British student in Papua New Guinea: "You managed not to get eaten then?"On a visit to the new Welsh Assembly in Cardiff, he told a group of deaf children standing next to a Jamaican steel drum band, "Deaf? No wonder you are deaf standing so close to that racket."He asked an Indigenous Australian, "Still throwing spears?" Said to a Briton in Budapest, Hungary, "You can't have been here that long – you haven't got a pot belly." To the President of Nigeria, who was dressed in traditional African robes, "You look like you're ready for bed!" To Lord Taylor of Warwick, who is black: "And what exotic part of the world do you come from?" Lord Taylor: "I'm from Birmingham." Seeing a shoddily installed fuse box in a high-tech Edinburgh factory, HRH remarked that it looked "like it was put in by an Indian".During a Royal visit to China in 1986 he described Beijing as "ghastly". "Aren't most of you descended from pirates?" (in 1994, to an islander in the Cayman Islands).At Salford University, he told a 13 year old aspiring astronaut: "Well, you'll never fly in it, you're too fat."   [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Blogs
Keywords: prince philip royal family house windsor china cardiff papua new guinea cayman islands scotland
Added: Thu, 16 Nov 2006

Today I brought a frozen eggplant parmigiana (grilled, not fried) to the office for lunch.  This was the first time I brought such a meal – normally I do the sandwich route, but today I wanted something different. Oh, I got something different.  You know when it says on food packages that microwave settings vary?  At home, I put the eggplant parmigiana in the microwave for 13 minutes and it comes out perfect.  Well, the microwave in my office seems to have been assembled at Los Alamos – I put it up for 13 minutes and the damn thing incinerated my lunch.  All of the cheese evaporated, the tomato sauce hardened into lava and only a few strips of eggplant remained unscathed. Needless to say, I am both angry and hungry.  Though at the moment, the hunger is stronger than the anger.  And I have another five hours to go before dinnertime! But on the other hand...I need to shed a few pounds.  Maybe this smaller meal is a blessing in microwaved disguise? [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: News
Keywords: microwave lunch eggplant parmigiana los alamos
Added: Wed, 8 Nov 2006

I have this posted over my desk.  I don’t know who the original author is, but I always found this quote remarkable for coming to grips with unjust and nasty criticism: A courtier told the Emperor Constantine that a mob had broken the head of his statues with stones.  The emperor lifted his hands to his head, saying: “It is very surprising, but I don’t feel hurt in the least.”   [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: News
Keywords: emperor constantine
Added: Tue, 31 Oct 2006

The other day I was scanning the food sections of three newspapers – the New York Times, the Washington Post and the Boston Globe.  All had articles on Middle Eastern cuisine, albeit from different cultural demographics.  The Times focused on the Sephardic Jewish cooking, the Post on the foods prepared by the Catholic and Orthodox populations, and the Globe went for the Ramadan meals for Muslims. And guess what – the Jews, Christians and Muslims were all eating the same thing!  In fact, all three articles interviewed people from the same part of the region (the Syrian city of Aleppo). To which I say to these groups: Just go into a kitchen together and start cooking – you’ll see how much you genuinely have in common.  Forget about sending Condi Rice to the Middle East...send Rachael Ray and have her get the warring parties around a stove.  We’d have both peace and dinner in less than 30 minutes! [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Entertainment
Keywords: middle east jews christians muslims food new york times washington post boston globe ramadan rachael ray condi rice sephardic orthodox aleppo
Added: Fri, 13 Oct 2006

One of my primary media affiliations is with Film Threat (www.filmthreat.com).  I have a weekly column there called The Bootleg Files, which celebrates classic and kooky movies that can only be found on bootlegged videos and DVDs.  I was particulary with last week's column, which focused on a truly inane 1966 animated film.  Reprinted courtesy of Film Threat, here is my column: When it comes to animation, one can have a lively debate regarding which person deserves the title of the greatest animator of all time. However, there won’t be much of a debate regarding the worse animator of all time: Gene Deitch.Gene who? Well, you may not recognize the name but you will know his work: he was responsible for those sloppy, creepy, utterly unfunny Tom and Jerry and Popeye cartoons in the early 1960s. Deitch actually managed to work with two highly respected animation studios, UPA and Terrytoons, before leaving Hollywood in 1960 to move to Prague. That career switch was rather weird, given that Prague was far behind the Iron Curtain and many Czechoslovakians would’ve rather immigrated to America. But Deitch’s reverse journey came at the request of another Yank expatriate in Prague, film distributor William L. Snyder, who ran Rembrandt Films from the Czechoslovakian capital with the purpose of exporting cheaply-made local movies to unsuspecting American theaters. With Deitch in Prague, Snyder was able to ensure the Americanization of his products.One of the earlier Snyder-Deitch productions, the fey animated short “Munro,” won an Oscar. But that was their sole artistic triumph. Their Tom and Jerry output and their Popeye cartoons won nothing but contempt – both series were abruptly cancelled due to poor audience reaction. Not willing to be sunk by bad reviews, Snyder and Deitch decided to upgrade from short subjects to feature films, and that leads us to “Alice of Wonderland in Paris.”If you are expecting anything similar to the Walt Disney odyssey through Wonderland, forget it – the two films have nothing in common except the word “Wonderland” in their respective titles. And as for Lewis Carroll, forget it – he’s never mentioned. In fact, it’s hard to determine just who the Alice of the movie is supposed to be. She’s clearly not the naïve British lass of Victorian times. In this offering, she’s a bourgeois American who wears a bouffant hairdo and a mini-skirt. She’s supposed to be a little girl, but she sounds like a middle aged housewife (Norma MacMillan did the voice for the character).In this go-round, Alice is already famous (the book “Alice in Wonderland” is spotted on a table). But Alice is bored – she wants to go to Paris. Her obsession with Paris is so strong that she begins to wear a miniature replica of the Eiffel Tower on her head. “Getting to Wonderland was easy,” she rues. “All I had to do was fall down the rabbit hole. But let’s face it – it takes money to get to Paris!”With uncommonly good timing, a talking French mouse riding a bicycle appears. He’s Francois and he’s on a mission to survey people about the best French cheeses. How he wound up in Alice’s bedroom is a mystery (he was riding through the Parisian sewers, took a wrong turn at Notre Dame, and emerged through a mousehole in another country). Alice is a ninny when it comes to the subject – she only likes cheeseburgers and cottage cheese with jelly – but she humors Francois with the hope that he can take her to Paris. Francois shrinks Alice to mouse-size by having her eat a slice of cheese made with the magic mushroom that shrunk her in Wonderland. (Personally, I prefer the magic mushrooms that Willie Nelson has on his tour bus, but I’m not in this movie.) The newly tiny Alice gets on Francois’ bicycle and they pedal off to Paris. Alice agrees with a comment her father once made: “It’s always best to travel on business.” Huh?From here, the film conveniently forgets its inane set-up and swings into an anthology of short stories. Francois and Alice take turns prefixing each tale with a “let me tell you about...” opening, and from there the film switches gears into different stories. There are two adventures from the once-popular Madeline series of kiddie books: one has Madeline tolerating Pepito, the boorish son of the Spanish ambassador (he nearly gets killed when his attempt to feed a cat to a pack of dogs goes awry) and the other has Madeline and Pepito running away to join a gypsy circus (when their guardians come searching for them, the gypsies sew the children into a vaudeville lion costume and lock them in a cage – and they like it!).Other stories involve “Anatole,” a Parisian mouse who becomes the vice president of a cheese company; “The Frowning Prince,” a bizarre comedy about a young royal who is incapable of smiling; and “Many Moons,” a charming James Thurber fantasy about a lunar-obsessed princess which is turned to muck here thanks to some of the tackiest animation ever put on film.In between stories, Francois tries to gauge Alice’s opinions on cheese. He takes her to a cheese factory and stuffs her with cheese, causing her to turn green. Alice, for her part, wants to meet the storybook character Madeline. One might think an American girl in Paris, circa 1966, would rather meet Alain Delon – but never mind. The magic mushroom spell that shrank Alice abruptly wears off and she shoots back to normal height. But in doing so, she suddenly acquires aerodynamic skills and takes off into flight. Alice soars high into the clouds, waving goodbye to Paris and to all of the storybook characters that turned up in the course of the film. Alice then wakes up and finds herself home – it was all a dream! Oh bloody shit!The animation in “Alice of Wonderland in Paris” is so horrible that one could imagine the entire film was put together on a lunchbreak. There’s no particular fun in denigrating the work: the ineptitude of Deitch’s artistic vision makes the film a clumsy, unappealing heap. But one could excuse crappy animation if the story was acceptable, yet that’s not the case here. The rickety structure of this production suggests the Attention Deficit Disorder School of Storytelling. And forget about the voice performances: old reliables like Carl Reiner, Howard Morris and Allen Swift were hired but they couldn’t work any magic.“Alice of Wonderland in Paris” runs a scant 52 minutes, which is very short for a theatrical release; it may have been originally designed for TV. When the film turned up in theaters in early 1966 (via a small distributor called Childhood Productions), its ru [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Blogs
Keywords:
Added: Thu, 12 Oct 2006

 Today, October 12, is my birthday.  It is also my least favorite day of the year. This is not because I am getting older – I actually prefer the maturing process, as I feel far more comfortable with myself with each passing year (I am passing into year #42).  The problem actually stems from a stretch of time when it appeared that nearly all of my friends forgot or ignored my birthday.  I wouldn’t make a big deal of that, except that I never forgot to send best wishes for any of my friends’ birthdays (or their wedding anniversaries, or year-end holiday greetings).  I’m not making myself seem clever – all it required was writing the dates on a calendar and looking at the calendar every once in a while to determine what was on the horizon in terms of activities and events. So being in a situation where I was sending birthday/anniversary/holiday cards and getting nothing back in return became rather depressing.  This was especially acute on my birthday, since it is the one day of the year where I would be feted just for staying alive.  With each passing year and each lack of recognition, I began to hate my birthday more and more.  In retrospect, it appeared that my distress was misplaced – why am I blaming myself and denigrating my birthday? Perhaps the final straw came last year when my friend Jason (who was mentioned earlier in a posting about his zany driving) promised to take me out for my birthday.  I have to admit I had a child-like glee over that, since it had been many years before anyone ever bothered to make such an offer.  As luck would have it, he never showed up.  I was left waiting for 90 minutes at my home, calling him a few times to find out where he was.  I eventually got in touch with him, and he claimed he was traveling all day and wasbe too tired to keep his invitation.  He promised a rain check, but never delivered on that promise.  I discovered later he had been evicted earlier that morning – I could’ve accepted that as an excuse (hey, that is a bit more important to him in the ultimate scheme of things), but ultimately it ruptured our friendship and I never could truly forgive him.  We are no longer in touch. Thus, my birthday has that odd residue to it.  Maybe someday I can recapture its value.  I think I am starting on that: I eventually jettisoned everyone who never quite thought it was worth the bother to take 60 seconds and send word (even in an e-mail) to say “Happy Birthday, Phil!”  Which, I guess, is the best birthday present I could give myself. [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Blogs
Keywords: birthday
Added: Thu, 12 Oct 2006

As seen on today's Associated Press wire: "SAN DIEGO (AP) -- Five people trying to sneak into the United States from Mexico became trapped in a narrow tunnel and had to be rescued Tuesday after the largest of them, a nearly 200-pound man, got stuck trying to climb out through a storm drain, authorities said. Firefighters used jackhammers at the city's border with Tijuana to widen the opening and free the man, who had become stuck at the hips, said James Jacques, a spokesman for U.S. Customs and Border Protection. Then they pulled out the four others who had become trapped behind him in the drainage tunnel." Let that be a lesson for anyone considering the illegal alien route: if you can't see your feet, you shouldn't try sneaking in here!   [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: News
Keywords: mexico united states illegal alien
Added: Tue, 10 Oct 2006

 It’s 1984 and I am walking up Fifth Avenue in New York one summer afternoon when I am stopped by a police barricade at 51st Street.  No one is allowed to cross over, and on both sides of the barricaded streets there are crowds of pedestrians. “What’s going on?” I asked a bystander. “The Vice President is coming by to give a speech,” I was told by the bystander, who pointed in the direction of a building opposite from us. For those who don’t recall, the Vice President in 1984 was George H.W. Bush, who was elected President in 1988.  We won’t talk about his offspring here. While I was not a fan of the older Bush, the idea of actually seeing him in person was rather exciting.  After all, it is not every day that you walk up the street and view the Vice President.   As I was waiting for the Bush motorcade to arrive, I heard a telephone ring.  These were the days before cell phones, so a ringing telephone usually meant a street payphone was making the noise.  Sure enough, I was standing next to a payphone.  Since no one was taking the call, I picked up the receiver. “Hey, is this the bakery?” said a gruff man’s voice from the receiver. “No, this is a payphone,” I said.  “You have the wrong number.” Suddenly, there was a huge cheer from both sides of the street.  Being I was ducked half-into the phone booth, I couldn’t see the inspiration of the cheering (Vice President Bush, whose motorcade came to a screeching halt before its destination).  However, the noise clearly aroused the curiosity of the wrong number caller.  “Hey, what’s that noise there?” he asked. “The Vice President just pulled up on the street,” I replied.   “Bush?” the caller said.  “Tell him to go suck my dick!”  And then he promptly hung up in my ear. As I ducked out of the phone booth, all I could see of the Vice President was his hand from the doorway of his destination.  He waved a wacky-happy display of fingers and then disappeared into the building. My disappointment in the moment was twofold: I never got to see the Vice President as a whole (just his hand), nor did I get to deliver the message that the caller asked me to share. Oh well.... [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Blogs
Keywords: george h.w. bush vice president dick telephone fifth avenue
Added: Tue, 3 Oct 2006

Now here is a situation that only arises in the course of hypothetical debate: which is more appetizing, a lousy meal or lousy sex?  Having recently been deep in the midst of both, I would err on the side of the lousy meal. The lousy meal is the ultimate disappointment for the inner glutton – a long-desired session with Mr. Knife and Ms. Fork becomes an assault on the olfactory passages and/or the taste buds.  The frustration becomes universal, since your dining partner and the person who prepared the meal are dragged into the sour mood created by your unhappiness.  But, of course, it doesn’t always have to be that way – a healthy variety of sterling lies can be tapped to negate the toxicity of the situation (“I guess I wasn’t that hungry,” “I’m too upset to eat,” “I’m still full from lunch,” etc.).  A doggy bag request can help wrap up the problematic meal for burial at a later date and distant location while a digestible alternative is sought out to fill the hunger void. But those lovely excuses cannot be reconfigured when it comes to excusing oneself from lousy sex.  Honestly, what are you going to tell your horizontal playmate: “I guess I wasn’t that horny,” “I’m too upset to fuck,” “I’m still full from lunch,” etc.?  And you can’t really push away an unsatisfactory naked lover the same way you push away a poorly cooked plate of meat loaf.  Furthermore, one can easily replace an unsatisfactory meal with something more palatable – but works in the kitchen usually doesn’t work in the bedroom. In the ideal world, every meal is gourmet-worthy and every lover is equally tasty.  But when quality is on an extended vacation, I’ll take a lousy meal to go. [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: News
Keywords: food sex
Added: Wed, 27 Sep 2006

 If you’re like me, you’re a dodo when it comes to gifts.  Not only shopping for gifts, but also trying to determine what you want as a birthday or Christmas goodie. So imagine my surprise when I received the following e-mail.  The subject line was: “Jack Rabbit Vibrator Sex Toy FHd9hSHIdlh4uhGrTRCgq46c74CUayRAAAcpRcsqcIArb0BazCzw” Okay, that last word might have been the result of the jack rabbit hopping all over the keyboard.  Those things happen...sometimes. But when I opened the e-mail, I found this killer sales pitch: “Guys if y0u love your girls you have to try it;) Girls if y0u love your boy you need to try it;)” Hey, this solves all of my gift problems -- this works for the girls and guys I know (segregating your shopping based on gender can become time-consuming, I think). Now I thank one opencdk@foo-bar.org for sending this info my way.  I looked up foo-bar.org and it is a tech site for “free software for devices running the Palm operating system.”  Needless to say, someone at foo-bar.org has something in his palm that’s a lot more interesting than a BlackBerry! [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: News
Keywords: jack rabbit vibrator sex toy
Added: Mon, 25 Sep 2006

We’re back in 1976 and I am in sixth grade.  And much to my initial delight, Miss Rotenberg (the emetic virago assigned to teach the little ones French) is absent (perhaps she fell off her broomstick?).  Instead, we have a substitute teacher – a large, lumpy fellow who bears an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Potato Head. I cannot recall his real name, but it didn’t matter since he had his own special ID for my class.  “I’m the Answer Man!” he declared with the enthusiasm one associates with the discovery of gold or a life-saving pill.  “Ask me any question you have and I will answer it!” My class, which was never challenged by Miss Rotenberg’s prattling, suddenly became animated with the glory of being asked to participate in something that was genuinely fun and perhaps a bit daring – it was unusual for an adult to lay down an intellectual challenge to a sixth grade class. To his credit, the Answer Man kept his word – he did answer the questions.  But answering a question and answering a question correctly are not the same thing and it appeared that the Answer Man’s enthusiasm was not equal to his knowledge.  Relatively simple questions relating to sports, TV shows and comic book characters (all of prime importance to the sixth graders) eluded the Answer Man and he offered responses that ranged from feeble to surreal. However, I believed the Answer Man could offer insight on a subject that fascinated me during this time.  Little me and my gaggle of sixth grade pals began to notice something that we never took seriously before: girls.  Of primary interest to us was a subsection of the subject: breasts.  Granted, none of the girls in our class were in league with Dolly Parton, but the whole concept of boobies provided the sixth grade boys with endless fascination – it dominated our conversations, our doodling and our private thoughts. So when the Answer Man pointed to my upraised hand, I had a question for him: “How much does the average woman’s breast weigh?” The Answer Man, who was a jolly old St. Nick up to that question, suddenly transformed himself into an utterly shocked moral puritan who was aghast that such blasphemy could be aired.  “That’s it!  That’s it!” he yelled.  “No more talking for the rest of the period!  Everyone sit quietly and don’t say a word – and anyone who says something will be thrown out of the class!” My classmates turned at me with scorn, their faces offering mute disgust at how my question could disrupt their funtime.  But I wasn’t apologetic – hey, I had a serious question (or at least I thought it was serious). We never saw the Answer Man again.  And, oddly enough, I never bothered to find out the answer to my question.  Oh well, tits ahoy! [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Blogs
Keywords: breasts
Added: Wed, 20 Sep 2006

 While this is not comedy, per se, it should be noted that some sick humor can be found in the furor in the Islamic world regarding Pope Benny’s decision to publicly repeat comments made by a Byzantine emperor’s notion of the violence inherent to Islam and the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad. From this joker’s perspective, I would offer the following observations: 1. When freedom of religion and the right for open assemblies of non-Muslim religious gatherings can be commonplace in the Islamic world, then criticism of Pope Benny is justified. 2. When Muslim terrorists stop bombing churches in Iraq and stop harassing Iraqi Christians seeking the free exercise of their faith (particularly women), then criticism of Pope Benny is justified. 3. When the governments of predominantly Islamic nations cease their policies of persecution of non-Muslim faiths (most notably Iran’s campaigns against its Baha’i population and the state-sanctioned violence against Coptic Christians in Egypt), then criticism of Pope Benny is justified. 4. When people in predominantly Muslim countries have the right to change their religions without the risk of being arrested, tried and executed for crimes against the nation, then criticism of Pope Benny is justified. 5. When the governments of predominantly Muslim country outlaw school texts that slander Judaism and Christianity, then criticism of Pope Benny is justified. 6. When Muslims stop killing each other under the pretext of Koranic principles (Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan), then criticism of Pope Benny is justified. Until such time, all I can say is “More power to Pope Benny!” [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Political
Keywords: pope benedict xvi
Added: Mon, 18 Sep 2006

 The year is 1976 and I am 11 years old.  The place is my old neighborhood in The Bronx (pronounced “Da Bronx”) and it is during a lunchtime break from the torture known as sixth grade.  My pal James and I managed to sneak in through a service door to a local high-rise apartment complex with the hope of meeting its most famous tenant, baseball great Willie Mays. This was not an original idea, as every boy in our school tried to do the same.  No one ever got to see Willie in person, but James and I seemed to get closer than most (we made it to the door of his penthouse apartment, but we were informed by a woman on the other side of that door that our intended target was not home). As luck would have it, a fellow classmate named Philip lived in that same apartment complex.  So James and I rode the elevator down to his floor with the hope of catching him at home (and perhaps snagging some goodies from his pantry – it was lunchtime, after all).  Admittedly, it was not the most desirable consolation prize (unlike the elusive Willie Mays, we saw Philip every day), but at least it would keep us busy and perhaps well-fed. Alas, Philip was not home.  Dejected, James and I headed to the elevators.  But for whatever reason, we opted to take the staircase.  And that’s where the trouble began. I don’t know why (and I still can’t figure it out), but James issued me a challenge at the top of the staircase landing on Philip’s floor: he boasted that he could outdistance me in a urinating contest on the staircase.  Clearly, the idea of using a staircase as a toilet never occurred to me – but at the time, it seemed like a brilliant notion.  Hell, anyone can take a pee into a porcelain bowl. Furthermore, my sense of adventure was piqued.  Could I pee my way down a staircase?  To the 11-year-old me, those 10 steps from top to bottom landing seemed like an Olympic ski jump.  But I thought I could outdistance James. So James and I stood at the edge of the staircase landing, unzipped our flies, took out our 11-year-old manhoods, and did the one-two-three-go routine.  Initially James got off to a strong start, hitting the fourth step, while I was stuck at the second step.  But then I began to catch up by making an arc my urine flow.  We tied at the seventh step and went down the stairs in unison until we both hit the bottom landing.  Needless to say, the tie was a disappointment since we both wanted to secure bragging rights. After zipping up, we remembered the elevators (the staircase didn’t seem like the best place to travel, considering what transpired) and we went downstairs and then went back out the service entrance that gave us access.  We made it to school in the nick of time. The next day, our friend Philip confronted us in a decidedly non-friendly manner.  It seems the janitor for his apartment complex was making the rounds and came upon that staircase.  Oddly, the janitor blamed Philip for the mess and informed his parents.  Now why the janitor would blame Philip (since he lived on the floor in an apartment with a working toilet) made no sense, but Philip nonetheless added two and two and came up with the only two goofs he knew who could turn a staircase into a urinating championship forum.  Naturally, we denied everything. Still, I look back in awe at this accomplishment.  I’ve never won any sporting trophies, so the knowledge that I could pee like a champ means a great deal to me (even more than meeting Willie Mays). [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Blogs
Keywords: willie mays toilet bronx janitor urinating pee
Added: Fri, 15 Sep 2006

My pal DJ just sent me this e-mail: 1- Go to www.Google.com 2- Type in "Failure" 3- Look at the first listing.So I followed his instructions.  And this was the first Google listing for "Failure": Biography of President George W. Bush Biography of the 43rd President of the United States.www.whitehouse.gov/president/gwbbio.html - 19k - Cached - Similar pages No further commentary is required. [more]

Author: Phil Hall
Category: Political
Keywords: george w. bush failure google president united states
Added: Fri, 8 Sep 2006