Linked-in posted this news brief today, guaranteed to set the late-night writers abuzz…
“Coffee makers in California will need to flag a cup’s carcinogenic content, based on a Los Angeles Superior Court ruling. Acrylamide, a known carcinogen produced when beans are roasted, “has been at the heart of an eight-year legal struggle between a tiny nonprofit group and Big Coffee,” CNBC says. (Coffee companies) argue that the substance, which they assert hasn’t been shown definitively to cause cancer, cannot be removed from their product without ruining the flavor. The court ruling may be appealed or — according to the state law under which the case was brought — the judge can set penalties of up to $2,500 per person exposed each day over eight years."
All those people; all those cups, all branded with the new Scarlet Letter "A" for Acrylamide...
Really? Here’s what I ri-posted:
Warning -- reading labels in California may be hazardous to your health. At the very least to your brain's common-sense receptors.
OK, you late night comics -- the Three Jimmys & Stephen Colbert -- here's some low-hanging fruit: Regulator Orcs Run Amok in the Land of Kaiser Moonbeam...
This whole mess begs the question: does our American Slang Dictionary now need a new noun for this new First World Flap, for the bitter legal grounds of "The Big Coffee Kerfuffle?"
Maybe something like "acryla-mony?" (pronounced "Uh-KRILL-uh-Moan-ee."
© Copyright John Hessburg & The Diction Aerie.
I am aware of the trail I leave.
My brain is full of spikes;
my head nods, and one slips
shaped like an icicle crashing to the ground.
But it isn’t cold, no, it sheers a hole clean through the bedrock.
I am tempted to toss a stone and count, but
I cannot bend over for fear of the consequences.
Kilimanjaro is squatting on my doorstop and I
must navigate the tangled viper wires
without touching my skin;
it is so frail it wafts off with the gentlest breeze.
My lungs gulp in streams of steam,
and exhale chunks of dust.
The hall is a catacomb,
dank and full of
spider webs resembling the dead,
my personality slowly disintegrating with each
If only I could reach my bed,
I just might save the world.
© Copyright Melanie Mills. All rights reserved.
© Copyright 2016-2020, Jack Larrison and The DICTION AERIE.™ All rights reserved.
It's all boiling down to the Stooges Three
Trump and Kasich and Cruz;
It seems that the trick, to prevent getting sick
Is simply to turn off the News...
And wipe all the @#&$ off your shoes;
Then break out a liter of booze.
God knows we have all paid our dues...
From this media rape
It is time we escape
These dismal election-year blues,
Oh yeah, these dismal election-year blues!
Sure, nominations are rough
But enough is enough;
Why do Yanks drag this thing on so looooong?
What America needs most
Is a merciless host
To clear CNN's stage with a Gong !
HELP ME RONDA, HELP HELP ME RONDA
If you're a geek who's meek 'n mousy
Don't even look at Ronda Rousey.
Her eyes are feral, fierce like lasers
One punch is like a dozen Tasers.
So if you're some cowboy wit' a 7-year itch,
Ha! In 30 seconds you'll be her bitch.
A gal I know down South sent me a postcard the other day. It showed this photo of a sign-board with another insipid slogan -- you know the kind you see all over FaceBook and Google+ ; I call them "half-assed placards" -- and this one declared:
"My therapist set a glass half full of water in front of me and asked me, "Are you an optimist or a pessimist?" I told her, "No I am a problem solver. Then I drank the water down."
So I mailed the Southern lady back, returning her postcard, putting a blank mailing label over her caption. Then I wrote this new caption for the therapist:
"Better to pour that water over her head and say, "I'm a Republican. Welcome to trickle-down economics."
(To the tune of Dean Martin's "It's Amore...")
© Copyright 2015-2020 / Parody Lyric by John Hessburg. All Rights Reserved.
Your hand hits a reef crack
If you don't get it back
It's a moray...
If it's toothy & brown
And it's dragging you down
It's a moray...
Doncha dare cop a feel
From this type of an eel
Whoa a moray....
Or the memories may linger
Just minus one finger
A moray a moray today.
If it tugs on your sleeve
And you get no reprieve
It's a moray...
You'll be feeling uncanny
If it chomps on your fanny
Yes a moray...
If it's swimming on by
Near your right inner thigh
Whoops, a moray... !
You could brandish a shiv
Just protect where you live
It's a moray, a moray today.
© Copyright Jack Larrison and The DICTION AERIE.™ All rights reserved.
OK, so this little girl goes to school one morning. She’s in 1st grade and her teacher says, “Class, guess what? Today we will be studying about whales, BIG huge whales, the biggest animals on earth, in fact!”
The kids start clapping gleefully… “Oh that is so exciting!” the little girl says. Then a slight frown flickers across her face.
She begins to wave wildly. “But teacher, what if you were swimming and a whale came up and just … SWALLOWED you?”
“No dear,” the teacher replies. “No worries. Whales cannot eat people. You see, they might be huge animals but their throats are very small. Most whales just eat planktons, the size of teeny little ants -- they're creatures that float in the water in big thick bunches.”
“But teacher,” the little girl protests, and she stands up. “My Mom read me a story about Jonah and the Whale, and the Whale DID eat Jonah, all the way down. Mom says that Jonah stayed inside the whale’s belly for 3 whole days!”
“No, no dear, that’s just a story; nothing but an old wive's tale,” the teacher says. Her voice is flustered, irritated. “Now sit down young lady and please pay attention. For the last time, whales cannot eat people; that’s physically impossible!”
The little girl sits down then suddenly blurts out angrily, “OK. When I get to heaven I’m asking God if that whale really DID eat Jonah.”
Fed up completely, the teacher says, “Well, what if Jonah never made it to heaven? What if Jonah went to HELL instead?”
The little girl replies, “Then YOU ask him!”
© Copyright 2015-2020, John Hessburg & The DICTION AERIE.™ All rights reserved.
( "A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction."
-- Oscar Wilde ) True at times, but hers is by far the loveliest kind of fiction, Mr. Wilde -- a sweet page-turner that most men simply cannot ever put down...
( Saw a sign the other day on the InterWebs:
"National Sarcasm Society -- Like we need your support?")
No worries, guys... Sarcasm is the shallowest Chasm of all.
( Re: Korean despot Kim Jong Un, who pops up almost daily in the network news & web news feeds -- like some tenacious fungus that simply will not go away. )
* This odious little rodent needs to be squashed -- NOW. Besides his record of terrorizing & exploiting his own people -- with zero pangs of conscience whatsoever -- he looks like a stunted psychotic runt, a buzz-cut bobble-head-doll to commemorate the Fourth Stooge. No wonder Dennis Rodman was so attracted to him...
* Yep, Kim Jong Un, the kind of role model this world truly needs -- on millions of fist-sized portraits glued to the tops of urinal cakes...
( A guy in Europe recently posted a snarky essay on a social medium about how vexed he feels by linguistic “Muricanisms” ie. the way Yanks sometimes stick apostrophes into written plurals. )
So I wrote him a reply -- "Wow. Who do those 'Muricans' think they are, messing with the sacred institution of plurals? The nerve... This vibrant rogue apostrophe is, of course, a globe-shaking event, despicable at best -- in fact easily on a par with other annoying & forgettable "Muricanisms" that have plagued the globe for two centuries, such as the cotton gin, the electric light, the telephone, the airplane, the automobile, jazz & blues, the phonograph, the telegraph, the film projector, the television, the laser, integrated circuits, the PC & the Mac, the moon landing, the space shuttle, & look you little gasbag -- the very Internet & social media you use to snark away every day."
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