Frank Looks At Real Life

Presley, Bingo & Sex In The Midwest
The pros and cons of burnin' love

Making Fun Of The Boss

I used to -- believe it or not -- play in an Elvis impersonator's band. Yep, and I admit it. Some of the other band members and I used to sit backstage and make fun of the whole thing.

The jokes were more than called for, they were almost screamed for, because Danny (Elvis) is this really macho Italian guy with a hairy chest who did provocative hip rotations to old ladies in Moose clubs. Even Jesus would've made the same jokes.

We said things like, "Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from Canton, Ohio to Barberton, Ohio for one extremely limited engagement -- please welcome The Fred Presley Experience!!!"

(sound of bingo game caller, "O... FIFTEEN! Does anybody have O fifteen?...")

Suiting Up The Saint

I wiggled on stage the other night, in front of hundreds, if not 66, people. I was asked to sit in with Kody Stormn (don't ask me where'd the "n" came from), whose band I used to play in when he did Elvis. He doesn't do Elvis anymore -- good thing too.

But Friday's gig was a very special one for this reason: It was a dog show. They had a dog show at the fairgrounds and Kody (real name Danny) was hired to play his music and put a cowboy hat and guitar on the champion Westminster Kennel Club St. Bernard (real name Ben.) He's a gorgeous dog.

The cheap dog jokes flew like the after-dinner bean farts. When we were standing on stage, looking out over the crowd and I said I wanted to go see some of the dogs, the keyboard player Mike Sampsel (the guy who named me "Mucky") said, "You're lookin' at 'em." I heard that same joke 5 times.

I think we made lots of fans that night, and they all probably lifted their legs in tribute to us first thing the next morning and felt relieved that such a great band came to play for them, then packed up and went home.

Jay Cleans My Gutters

This morning I walked out the front door of my apartment building just as a big brown clump of leaves & dirt & crap came flying down from above. I looked up, and there was a female bluejay running back & forth along the outside edge and reaching into the gutter, picking up large clumps with her beak, turning around and winging them at me, 20 feet below (It seemed like she was aiming for me.) She did the job with such zeal -- it looked like she was in a hurry to get it done before it rained. The really amazing part is that she's the first to clean those gutters out in likely the last 30 years. My landlord won't have it done -- he's cheap. So every time it rains there's a damn waterfall at the front door. My theory is that the bluejay was as fed-up with the whole thing as the other tenants. (After I posted this in Absurd, Jay Wilson posted one with the title "Mucky Detritus In My Driveway.")

Thanks For The Memory

A little while ago I picked up a book I have called Roger Ebert's 4-Star Movie Guide, and read the review of The Last Emperor, which was about the last Chinese emperor, whose power had been taken away by the Communists. Anyway, as I'm reading I realized that, though I had seen the movie when it came out, I couldn't remember a thing about it (Peter O'Toole was in this??), except one scene: The one where the baby emperor's first turd was taken on a silver platter to the physician, who looked it over and sniffed it and nodded his approval.

Does this say anything about me that I'm not aware of? :-)

Shoestring Cuisine

Last night for dinner I had a big bowl of steel-cut oatmeal with crystal-clear tap water, choice, sun-ripened grape-raisins and -- the coup-de-gras!--fine, white, crystalline salt from America's Great Lakes! It was a sensuous and tantalizing dinner, and I look forward to it again
tonight.

Haunted By Stethoscopes
The strange world of medicine

Judy Gets A View Of Uranus

The doctor's office always presents you the bill when you're in the most compromising position, you know? Like you're laying butt-naked on the exam table, and there's 3 nurses and 3 doctors looking into some scope that's been stuck, like, 12 to 15 feet into you for 20 minutes, then, suddenly you feel relief, everybody heads for the golf course, and the nurse, on her way out, says, "You can get dressed, Mr. Rumpmeyer."

Then you get out there, sore and humiliated, and the doctor who was just moments ago stargazing up your Not-Very-Milky Way is now explaining the whole thing in detail to the girl at the desk as if she's on the other side of the building.

"We're going to have to get another look at that swollen prostate, which is a really funny pink color, in one month, Judy", he shouts.

You feel like saying, "While I'm here, Judy, why don't we stick that roto-rooter back up my butt for a live BumCam and sell tickets and refreshments?" Then they give you the bill and ask if you're insurance has changed.

~Whew!~

Doctor Schweitzer And The Fellows

One day I went to see one of my doctors, Doctor Kofol. We were talking about some medical attention I needed. Let's just call it "back door" trouble. He said he wasn't the best man for the job and recommended I see his partner, Doctor Schweitzer, who he said once did an "anal fellowship." Needless to say, I nearly cracked up right there on the exam table. I thought, WHAT THE HELL'S AN ANAL FELLOWSHIP??? My mind always heads straight for the most absurd thing. Sounds like The University Physicists Glee Club. Or, I could see a cartoon of a bunch of butts with legs, hanging out together, watching the football game
.

Cover Me

{Absurd.72.2799}: ilene {heyoka} Wed, 29 Dec 1999

If she blows up, then we'll know she's really a cat. Therefore, she's a witch. If she doesn't blow up, it's magic, and she must be a witch.

{Absurd.72.2800} Craig Schroeder {muckyshultz} Wed, 29 Dec 1999

Exactly. Same logic used by the medical insurance companies for determining who gets covered and who doesn't. If you need the help, you can't have it; if you don't need it, hey! let's do business!

It helps to not have any internal organs at all. Organs mean you're not a witch in some places, but to insurance companies it means you have "pre-existing conditions"---and, as you know, that's bad. You might as well be a witch. Then at least you could put a spell on the company's CEO so he gets the incurable sloppy poops or his eyes look like stuffed animal eyes, or something.