Eyes Up Here

It’s a classic line on all TV comedies, brought about by a buxom female standing in front of a man.  “Hey, eyes up here, buster!” She says as she looks sternly up at the guy. The implication being that he is looking at her breasts and not into her eyes.

It draws a big laugh because usually the guy isn’t looking where she thinks. He’s just some hapless guy or foil to the actress. When the scene unfolds, he’ll look stunned that she even thought that and mumble something incoherent as he scrambles off screen.

This happens in the regular world too. Perhaps without the woman being so aggressive or the guy being meek, but it happens regularly.

The problem though is that although the male may like the female form, he’s not really focusing on the breasts, he’s just looking downward. That’s right, the male is often taller than the female and so is looking down.

Now, I like tall women, and sometimes even fantasize about running into a gorgeous Amazon warrior who will ride up to me on her stallion and grab me by the collar and take me back to her lair.

However, most of my life I’ve gone out with, worked with or just hung around with females who were shorter. So, I looked down. No, not in disdain, but physically looked down at her (mainly into her eyes).

In the US, the average height of men is 5 feet 9 inches, while the average for women is 5 feet 4 inches.

In other words, it’s not uncommon for men to be looking down when talking to women. So do men’s eyes wander farther down? Possibly.  So do women hope that men are looking down there? That could also be possible. 

 

Ahhh, James Thurber

 

Summer vacation

 

Hey, it's hot in Texas. We at The Thurber Brigade decided to head somewhere cooler. We'll be back next month with another biting satire, clever essay, or post about this and that. Maybe.

 

 

God and Wyoming

It was time that He taught them a lesson. For too long He had let things go, and now it was out of hand. His only alternative was to make them see the error of their ways, and to do that, He would reclaim what was His. He would repossess Wyoming.

God reached down his hand and pointed to that western state, and then in a booming voice, heard around the world in every language, He announced His plan.

"People of the world, behold! I, your master and maker, have grown dissatisfied with your despoiling of my beautiful creation. You foul the air, you darken the waters and you ruin the land. Therefore, as a token of my anger, and to show you the folly of your evil ways, I am reclaiming a piece of what is mine. I will take back the area the people in the United States call "Wyoming." No human may walk through this land or travel through its air until that time that I deem man has learned his lesson!"

The people of the world listened to God's words, thought about them for a moment, then collectively shrugged their shoulders.

"Fine with us," they said in Germany.

"Whatever you say," they agreed in Kenya.

"Why not?" they all intoned in China.

Of course, the people in the U.S. weren't too keen on this idea, especially the ones in Wyoming. So the people began to mumble amongst themselves. They rent their clothes and wailed to the heavens, and of course, there were some who threw dirt on themselves. A few even began to fashion a golden idol in the shape of a television set, in the hopes of attracting a more modern God. However, the majority organized as a whole and began to question God.

Just as God was about to reach down to Earth again, to wipe out the few people in the state and to put an invisible barrier around the borders, He heard the collective voice of the people crying up to him.

"Hey! Who do you think you are?" they said.

God paused and looked quizzically down at the United States. "I'm God. Didn't I say that earlier?"

"Prove it," they answered back.

"Thou shalt not test the Lord, thy God," God snapped back.

The people thought about this for a moment and then came up with a new track. "Okay, so maybe you're God, and maybe you ain't. But why pick on us?"

"I'm not picking on you, I'm trying to show you the error of your ways before you completely destroy the world."

"So why the U.S.? Why not some desert somewhere, or some Godless country like, oh, Belgium?"

God was taken aback. These people are all insane, maybe He should take the whole country. No, it would defeat the purpose, He told himself.

"Listen," God said, trying not to raise his voice in anger. "I picked the U.S. because you are the biggest abuser, the most ungodly and materialistic of the countries. If you can see the error of your ways, perhaps others will also."

The people were flustered. "Wait a minute!" they said in unison. "At least let us have a congressional study about it."

God shrugged his shoulders. Since a day is as a thousand to him, He decided it wouldn't matter. Of course, God hadn't paid much attention to congress before and didn't realize what he was getting into. The congressmen yelled at each other, went on fact-finding trips to Paris and visited with lobbyists and constituents for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, even His patience was strained (at the time, the issue was in a joint committee), and He decided to claim Wyoming.

"Time's up!" God said. "I am taking what is mine."

But just as He reached down to claim the state, the people let out one large groan. "Wait! Wait! At least give us a fair trial!" they all said.

God laughed. "You people have been breathing the air too long. I'm God. There is no need for a trial. I am just. I am truth."

But it didn't matter. Before God could claim His land, the people had organized a court and were beginning the trial. He should have, and could have, gone ahead and taken what was rightfully His, but His curiosity was piqued, and since He had given them free will, He had to see what they were up to. He pulled off the roof of the building they were holding the trial in, not because He needed to see inside mind you, mainly just to reinforce His presence, and He marveled at the people's creativity. The people had cleverly picked the best trial lawyers in the world to represent them, and had assigned the losingest lawyer in history to represent him. Well, maybe it wasn't that clever. Anyway, He laughed and told His lawyer to take a hike.

"So you want to represent yourself?" the judge asked.

"Of course. I am God."

"Well, might be foolhardy. It's best to have a lawyer, but it's your prerogative."

The trial dragged on for years. It soon became the longest case in history. The lawyers for the people opened by challenging His status as God. He attempted to prove His existence by turning the reporters in attendance into jackals, but the judge disallowed the evidence as inconclusive. He then turned the judge into a pillar of salt and so the lawyers agreed in principle that he might be God.

However, the bitterest exchanges came later over rights to the land.

"Do you have a deed to this land, sir?" one of the crack attorneys asked.

"Deed? I am God. I created this land!"

"Immaterial. We have countless witnesses on hand who can come forward and prove ownership to various tracts of land within Wyoming. Legal documents, mind you. Leases and contracts assigning the land to them and their heirs."

God shook His head in disgust. "So having a piece of paper gives you people right to this land?"

"It is a legal document assigning the rights to that land, yes."

"Then, where did the previous owners get their piece of paper to the land?" God asked with a chuckle.

"From the previous owners," all the lawyers chimed in smugly.

"And from the previous owners and previous owners and previous owners, etc. And I assume those previous and previous owners bought their paper from the Indians?" God said, with a twinkle in His eyes.

"Objection!" the lawyers shouted to the new judge.

"Sustained," he said.

God turned him into a frog and then continued with this argument. "Of course you object! Your previous owners didn't buy a piece of paper from the Indians. The Indians were barbarians to the previous owners and incapable of owning pieces of paper! The Indians didn't own the land in the same manner as the previous owners. They didn't put up fences, post signs, build houses. So the previous owners took the land and made up their pieces of paper!" God bellowed.

"Ah, but can we be held responsible for the actions of our forebears?" a young lawyer from Iowa asked.

"Good point," God declared, right before turning him into a rabbit. He thought better of it and changed him back, for he was, after all, a forgiving God. "But there is a point where madness must be brought to a halt. Such as destroying the land, or falsely believing that a piece of paper can prove ownership and thereby gives you the right to abuse that land. The real point I was about to get to, was that even though the previous owners stole the land from the Indians, the Indians did not own it--which they admitted, I might add. They knew that the land was not a possession you could hold and presume to own, but was an entity which you can love and work with. It is a companion that can help, or hurt you. A living force that has life through the creatures that inhabit it! Yes, this land that you deem can be owned by pushing around pieces of paper, is a spirit that lives and grows within all creatures, and like a creature with flesh, can die if mistreated! This, this is why I have come to reclaim what I created!" God shouted, pointing a finger at the state to add emphasis.

The jury and spectators went wild. They stood in unison and applauded and shouted hallelujahs (for God was a very persuasive orator). The media that hadn't been turned into jackals burst from the courtroom to be the first to report the dramatic turn, and the hoopla went on for days. It was a foregone conclusion that God had won the trial, and the jury took just two days (a mere half second to God) to deliberate and rule in God's favor.

However, before God could claim Wyoming, the lawyers found a technicality and the new, new judge was left with no alternative but to rule in the people's favor. God was rightly disappointed and turned the new, new judge into a cockroach. He also vowed to appeal the ruling.

At this time, the case is in federal court and is in its fortieth year. Wyoming has since been turned into a parking lot.

(image from http://iselgfx.deviantart.com/gallery/)

 The Thurber Brigade decided to go with a short story this time because James Thurber wrote short stories and, well, okay, I'm a little behind in "things" right now. This was originally published in the small literary magazine "Barbaric Yawp" in December of 2001. You can also find it and other short stories at Jay's Place. When I wrote it I thought our country might improve in its treatment of our environment, but, alas, it may have gotten worse. I now just hope that our children will do a better job as well as forgive us for screwing things up. However, I have a feeling they'll probably more than likely be dancing on our graves as they attempt to correct what we've done.

 

 

It's So Easy—To Buy a Gun

Nineteen children have been murdered in Uvalde, Texas, and although it is horrific, it's not surprising. In Texas, it's easy to buy an assault gun—that’s only function is to kill—even if you are only 18. 

An 18-year-old cannot buy a beer, but a gun is A-okay.

An 18-year-old cannot buy a cigarette, but a gun is A-okay.

An 18-year-old cannot get a loan for a house without an older co-signer, but to buy a gun is A-okay.

An 18-year-old cannot rent a car, but to buy a gun is A-okay.

An 18-year-old cannot receive an unrestricted driver’s license, but to buy a gun is A-okay.

An 18-year-old cannot work at or go into a strip club, but to buy a gun is A-okay.

An 18-year-old cannot ride a motorcycle without a helmet, but to buy a gun is A-okay.

An 18-year-old cannot gamble at a casino or buy a lottery ticket, but to buy a gun is A-okay.

As a veteran and beer drinker, it is particularly galling that an 18-year-old can enlist in the army to go die for his/her country but cannot go buy a beer. Oh, and although they cannot get a drink to drown their sorrows, they can go and buy an AR-15 and blow away kids because the person is upset.

Adults in Texas don't want their children to read books about slavery or about homosexuals, but they have no problem with teenagers buying high-capacity magazines and unlimited quantities of ammunition. 

Face it, America is awash in guns. There are 120 guns for every 100 people. More than any other country. More guns just makes it easier to kill. You get mad, you just pull your gun and take care of it. In previous blogs, I've complained how this is the habit of our police. A civilian runs away from a traffic ticket, a cop is more likely to pull a gun than chase him. This is the way the public does it too. You are pissed at a neighbor so instead of giving him the finger, you get your gun.

Okay, this may not happen every time, but you know it does happen and you also know it happens a lot. That's why you read about a gun being drawn at a football game. A gun fight at a restaurant. A husband shoots his wife. It's easy because guns are easy to come by.

Beto O'Rourke confronted Texas governor Greg Abbott at a news conference and told him this was “on him.” Although you may not like his tactics, it was appropriate as the GOP will only offer thoughts and prayers in a hollow gesture of grief for the victims, but they refuse to do anything that might stop these events from happening again and again.

In fact, here in Texas they do the opposite. They make it easier. So, a child of 18 can buy as much ammo as he wants. Can buy as many assault rifles as he needs. Can buy multiple high capacity magazines and no one bats an eye. 

It's easy.

We won't see an end of these horrible events until we make it not so easy.

Ahhh, James Thurber

A while back, I told myself I wasn’t going to do any more sidesteps about mass shootings or police murdering civilians because I had done so many before. So I took some time off from those types of sidesteps. However, seeing those young, innocent faces of the victims in Uvalde brought too many tears to my eyes—and enraged me. Like so many other people, I keep thinking “when will this end?” But it won’t end. It won’t end because we have a political party (GOP) who get so much money and support from the NRA that they will never change laws that might end these horrible events, no matter how many innocent lives are lost. So, I can’t change that decrepit party, but I can at least make fun of them and write blogs to chastise them. I hope to get back to things like how men have different attitudes about farting than women, or how women are so much better a guilt trips than men, but who knows?

 

The Story of Easter: A Thurber Brigade Rerun

Around 300 CE the Cardinal ran up to the Pope while in the most agitated state.  The Pope held up his hand in a calming manner to placate the worried man.

“Calm thyself Cardinal.”

“We have a crisis your excellency!” the Cardinal exclaimed.

“What crisis?”

“The people are dancing around naked and drinking heavily all in the name of Eostre!”

“Well, we can’t have that.  I have a plan though.  Go gather the people around and I will make a declaration.”

So, the Cardinal rushed off and after getting the people clothed and somewhat sober, convinced them to go and hear what the Pope wanted to tell them. 

“People there is a new holiday you should celebrate.  It is one that commemorates the death and resurrection of Jesus.  This holiday will be heretofore known as Easter!” the Pope exclaimed.

The people mumbled amongst themselves and looked questioningly at the Pope.  “Easter?” That sounds suspiciously like our favorite time of the year when we celebrate Eostre,” one man said.

“Um, no, no, it’s not related to Eostre at all,” the Pope assured him.

Monty Python would celebrate Eostre

“It seems strange to celebrate someone’s death,” another peasant said to the Pope.  “I mean, it sounds rather bloody from the description your priests have told us in the past.”

“Yeah, and that story they tell about Jesus sure sounds a lot like the story of Inanna and Horus,” anther person shouted.  “I mean, they were killed, went to the underworld and came back.”

“No, no, those stories are just myths. This story of Jesus is real. You can trust me,” the Pope said as convincingly as he could.

“We like Eostre though,” several others chimed in.  “We get to dance and drink, we paint eggs and carry around rabbits to celebrate the new spring and virility.”

“Well, you can still have eggs and rabbits,” the Pope said. 

“Can we dance and drink too?” a man at the back asked.

“Of course you can, although I think it best to keep your clothes on,” the Pope answered.

The people furrowed their brows and wrinkled their noses.  “We’re not sure about this holiday.”

“Oh, you’ll love it,” the Pope assured them. “You’ll have a great time.”

So the people decided to celebrate both holidays.  After all, the more holidays the better.  However, slowly but surely the Pope and his successors convinced them to just celebrate Easter. With time, he also got the people to calm down more and celebrate with less enthusiasm.

The church kept the eggs and rabbits, but got the people to dispense with the dancing and drinking. A small group of pagans didn’t like this turn of events and vowed to one day return the holiday to its more spirited nature. 

Slowly but surely the old Eostre followers have been stressing the eggs and rabbits.  So today you can actually find people telling stories of big rabbits hiding chocolate eggs. They sneakily got the church to offer sunrise services which celebrate an old solar celebration. Also, the pagans convinced the Pope to base the time of Easter on the phases of the moon.  They haven’t been able to bring back the wild dancing, but have had more luck with the drinking aspect with their Easter sales at liquor stores.

So whether you follow celebrations of Horus, Inanna, Eostre/Ostara or Easter we at The Thurber Brigade wish you a pleasant holiday.

Ahhh, James Thurber

 

We at The Thurber Brigade apologize if this story sounds a little like our annual Christmas story.  We can't help that a certain religion co-opted several Pagan celebrations to try and win over the people. We also apologize to the serious religious types for making fun of the Pope, religion, myths, etc.  We don't regret it, nor doubt the above story has some basis in reality, but we apologize as we want you to continue to enjoy whatever holiday you celebrate. Cheers.

 

Annual St. Patrick's Day Speech

Jay’s Annual St. Patrick’s Day Speech

 

A few fun facts to make the holiday even more fun:  An abrev. St. Patrick’s Day History

 

St. Patrick's Day is celebrated on March 17, his religious feast day and the anniversary of his death in the fifth century. The Irish have observed this day as a religious holiday for thousands of years (Irish exaggeration). In Ireland, it’s pretty much a somber affair. That’s why St. Patrick’s Day is really an AMERICAN holiday.

Here’s why:  The first St. Patrick's Day parade took place NOT in Ireland, but in the United States. Irish soldiers serving in the English military marched through New York City on March 17, 1762. Along with their music, the parade helped the soldiers to reconnect with their Irish roots, as well as fellow Irishmen serving in the English army.  Basically, they were thumbing their noses at their English overseers. Showing their independence with Irish flair.

Over the next thirty-five years, Irish patriotism among American immigrants flourished, prompting the rise of so-called "Irish Aid" societies, such as the Friendly Sons of Saint Patrick and the Hibernian Society. Each group would hold annual parades featuring bagpipes (which actually first became popular in the Scottish and British armies) and drums.

Today, St. Patrick's Day is celebrated by people of all backgrounds in the United States, Canada, and Australia. Although North America is home to the largest productions, St. Patrick's Day has been celebrated in other locations far from Ireland, including Japan, Singapore, and Russia.


 

Catching a leprechaun

 

A leprechaun is an Irish fairy, with the name itself derived from "Luchorpan," meaning "little body." Full grown, they are said to stand about two feet tall, three at the most.

NY pub doors

According to legend, they are unfriendly, live alone, and scowl often. They are shoemakers by trade, wearing a cocked hat and a leather apron. A leprechaun may possess a pot of gold, which is sometimes believed to be at the end of a rainbow. Because leprechauns work hard at finding new hiding places for their gold they are just as hard to locate as the gold.  Legend has it that they carry two coins with them. One is magical and replenishes the second one when they give it away. The second one turns to stone or sand as soon as the leprechaun is out of sight.

 

Those trying to capture a leprechaun and his gold are advised to listen for the sound of a shoemaker's hammer. When caught, the leprechaun must reveal the whereabouts of his pot of gold. However, to keep custody of the leprechaun, you must never take your eyes of of him. He will try to trick you into looking away, and if you do ... poof, he vanishes.

And to help you if you're called upon to make a toast, here's a few samples:

 

May the leprechauns be near you, To spread luck along your way. And may all the Irish angels, Smile upon you St. Patrick's Day.

 

May your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow, And may trouble avoid you wherever you go.

 

May you live as long as you want, And never want as long as you live.

 

An Irishman is never drunk as long as He can hold onto one blade of grass and not Fall off the face of the earth.

 

Happy St. Patrick's Day

We at The Thurber Brigade have been sending out this speech to friends and posting it on FaceBook for decades and decided to finally share it via the blog. We hope you have gained some insight into this great American holiday and enjoyed the pictures. Now go out and grab a Guinness (we're partial to Smithwick's instead) and celebrate. Don't forget to watch the fight scene in "The Quiet Man." Another great St. Pat's tradition.

 

 

Star Struck

Face it, Donald Trump is not popular. He lost two popular votes for president—the last by over seven million votes. His poll numbers never have topped even 50%, instead mainly hanging around the 30s-40s.

Those of us who dislike him (aka the majority) look at the guy in disbelief when we see fans clamber to be near him and wonder why? Why do these people like him?

It's because they are typical Americans who are star struck by anyone with a measure of fame or fortune.

The same reason we see creepy, old rich guys married to beauty queens, Americans have fallen for an image of the man.

His whole life has revolved around his claim to be rich and successful. The reality is quite opposite on both fronts.

His wealth came from an inheritance not any business savvy.  Due to debt and bad business choices it's doubtful he could live on his own if those debts were called in suddenly. Unlike all other presidents, he’s never released his taxes, but through leaks and investigative reporting we've come to learn that he may actually be dirt poor.

Likewise, his businesses have repeatedly failed, from his bogus university to his rancid steaks, all have been shut down, with many leading to bankruptcy and ruin (for any gullible investors). His fake charity was dismantled by the court because he was grifting the money from donors and keeping it for himself. It’s possible he’s been laundering money, or at least, helping others to do so. What else would you call it when a Russian oligarch buys a property for four million even though it had been valued at far less?

In spite of these massive failures, he still has legions of adoring fans. It is all because the one thing he's very successful at, is presenting a facade that has those legions enthralled. 

Over the years he's grabbed headlines with his flamboyant lifestyle, from gaudy living quarters to marriages with glamour girls. He may not know business, but he sure knows how to make headlines.

And that seems to be enough for his cult following. Even though he would never be seen hanging out with these often poor and uneducated folks, he has convinced them that he speaks for them. They like his brashness, which if displayed by a female opponent they'd see as repulsive, and so forgive his racism, misogyny and xenophobia.

All because he's a star. Through TV shows, movie cameos and radio interviews he has polished that star and it sparkles in the eyes of his followers. 

The media, who he pointedly attacks, helped further give him this star status. I remember how frustrated I felt during the 2016 election when the Main Stream Media (MSM) would leave whatever news coverage they were involved with to show his plane landing at some event/rally. He didn't have to spend any of his own money promoting himself during the primaries because the MSM was providing endless coverage of his every move. Maybe the MSM deserves all the hatred directed toward them these days because they created the monster.

So, this is America and the likelihood of his star struck fans leaving his cult is remote. We love our Hollywood icons and no matter what weird exploits they might get caught doing, we’ll still clamor to see their movies, watch their TV shows, or vote them into political office.

Oh, that is unless the star is a person of color. OJ has not faired that well. But that’s another story.

Ahh, James Thurber

The Thurber Brigade wishes to apologize for this sidestep about the previous president. We had hoped that when he fled the White House we would never have to mention him in a blog again. However, he refuses to go away. So, we feel obligated to keep making fun of, sneering at, and deriding The Orange One and his cult following. If there were such a thing as a god, that being would have struck The Big Guy down or at least have him locked up. Sadly, that is unlikely to happen so we’ll keep having these occasional sidesteps in order to make ourselves feel better. Sorry.