The x-ray came back negative. She didn't believe it. She wanted them to take another picture. She knew something was wrong. But the doctors talked her out of it. We are the professionals, they said. We know your body best. We will tell you if you're sick. You're not, they said. It's psychosomatic, they continued. You're making this up in your head, they added. Now, get out, we are very busy saving real sick people and you are wasting our precious time.She cursed them. She called them quacks; they called her a hypochondriac; she walked out of the clinic determined to find herself another doctor, one who would be invested in her welfare and not theirs. Evidently a rarity in this modern world.
September 2, 2025
He was strutting down the street proudly singing Onward Christian Soldiers. Like a Pied Piper, other pious folks were following him. Our town has a public piano outside that is free for anyone to play. When the person that was currently noodling the 88 heard the well known song, he joined right in. The troubadour marched right up to the side of the piano, the crowd gathered 'round and the singing never stopped. They sounded good together until the piano player tired of the dirge-like pace and started to jazz the song up. He sped the tempo, started riffing on the black keys and eventually turned it into a free form jazz piece. He lost the singer along the way. The followers however were incensed, outraged, yelled Blasphemer! and Butcher! and made noises about storming the sacrilegious piano player but didn't cause most were over 75 and lucky to be able to still open a jar of pickles. Leaning against the piano like Dean Martin waiting for a martini, the singer was casually paralyzed. Why would Jesus let this duplicitous stranger hijack his song? Why?! Why! The piano player, now tickling the keys to Whiskey River, urged the throng not to hate his irreverent self and instead, turn the other cheek and love him like Jesus says to. Fuck that! someone yelled, and if it weren't for the puppy that wandered into the crowd and had all the old folks oohing and awing and forgetting all about Christian soldiers, who knows what might have happened?
September 3, 2025
Tennis ball still life.
September 4, 2025
Streamed a movie last night that was all about aliens and their gritty ways. Went to bed and got abducted. What are the odds? The spaceship was, I dunno, I guess you could call it nice, but their outfits were out of this world! This was Space Fashion Splendor with a capital S, F and S. And poor me! I mean, here I am in my bedclothes - sweat pants, ratty Grateful Dead T-shirt, barefoot - and am now surrounded by all these well heeled aliens. Didn't I feel like an outsider! This guy in an awesome ensemble tells me that I had been brought to the ship not for experiments or DNA extraction but because they couldn't figure out some of the stuff I said in KeithSpeak.
-- You read me?
-- We read everything. Including instructions and technical manuals. We just don't get some of the things you've said. Your ideas are...well, you need to explain them to us.
I had leverage! First, I demanded the alien equivalent of wine, women and song, but the room grew cold, the mood darkened. It seems they didn't like the abductees telling them what to do so they decided that medical experiments might just be the ticket instead. Thinking fast, I told them I could write a movie about them, the well dressed aliens. No one's done anything like that before!
-- You mean like Star Wars?
-- Oh, you've seen that.
-- Padmé's outfits were to die for.
-- Ok, but Star Wars has humans playing aliens. That's racial appropriation! Our movie would have real aliens playing real aliens.
-- You mean we could be in it?
-- Why not? If the studio doesn't agree, abduct them.
They liked that idea. I told them I would get started on the screenplay as soon as they could put me back in my bedroom. Which they did. But now my agent is pissed because we didn't talk money. He says he wants to be abducted so he can complete the deal. He asked me if I had any leverage. Sigh.
September 5, 2025
We are completely reconfiguring our network. New computers, peripherals and external drives. This will most likely take a couple of days to a week. The site will be up but we might be offline with new data and posts until it's all working seamlessly. Please bear with us, my pretties.
September 6, 2025
We have started the rebuild but it's treacherous. I already got a blood blister! Where is the pundit who said, Hey kids! Computing is fun! Bald-faced liar! Computing is work.
September 7, 2025
I’m sure no one is interested in this but I need to say it in case our absence is prolonged. Ahem, tomorrow, we move all the current and archived data over to the new solid-state drives. This will take forever because there are terabytes of the stuff going all the way back to the CP/M system of our very first Kaypro II computer whose data was eventually ported to the Windows 95 computers which was again moved en masse over to the Windows 7 computers and now, we’re sending the whole schmear to the Windows 11 computers. To those of you saying I’m hoarding data – a pox on you. See you tomorrow, maybe.
September 8, 2025
Overheard two guys next to each other at the gas pumps.
-- Hey, are you Larry?
-- Yeah. Do I know you?
-- Nah.
-- How do you know my name?
-- I didn’t.
-- You guessed my name?
-- Yup.
-- That’s preposterous. You don’t expect me to believe that out of all the names in the world you guessed Larry first off.
-- What can I say, it’s a gift. You guess my name now.
-- No thanks.
-- Come on!
-- Asshole.
-- People call me that, but it’s not my name. Come on, guess again.
-- What’s wrong with you, buddy? I’m not playing your game.
-- Guess!
-- …Toby.
-- Toby! That’s a stupid name! Nobody’s named Toby. You made that up. Do I look like a Toby? What the hell’s wrong with you? Toby, my ass. You’re crazy.
-- Oh, I’m the crazy one.
-- Yeah, well, screw you, Larry.
-- Right back at ya, Tobe.
-- You’re lucky I’m done pumping my gas or we might be scrapping.
-- Anytime, Tobe.
-- Stop calling me, Toby!
September 9, 2025
In your quiet moments do you ever think, What the hell is going on? How am I living a life? How is my heart beating without conscious input or knowledge? Why do I breathe air and why is air everywhere. Isn’t living a life an awful lot of effort if it’s a one off? How can I meet someone for the first time and feel like I’ve known them forever? Why do we all have intuition but few seem to use it? If our brains are all roughly the same size, how come there is such disparity between smart and dumb humans? Why does everyone sleep? Just what the hell is going on? I dunno, ever give any of this stuff thought?
September 12, 2025
His name was Sam Smackass. He wanted to run for Congress but the Party said his name didn’t test well and he should reconsider public office. He ran anyway, as an independent, miraculously winning his seat with a series of billboards that showed Sam holding a legal Change Of Name form. Underneath the picture it said,
Everyone wanted me to change my name.
So I did.
It’s now Kickass. Sam Kickass and I will do just that for you in Congress.
Much love,
The former Sam Smackass
September 13, 2025
A father took his young son fishing for the first time. He showed the boy how to put a worm on a hook. The boy was shocked.
-- Dad, you just stuck a live animal on a hook! That’s horrible! Look at him writhe. You don't think he’s in pain?!
The father didn’t know what to say as there was no way to justify the worm’s awful circumstance. So he ignored it and after baiting both hooks showed his son how to cast. Within minutes the boy got a hit. His father showed him how to reel the fish in but when it broke water and the boy could see the hook embedded in its mouth, he dropped the rod and ran back to their car screaming at his father the whole way.
-- Fishing is a nightmare for the animals! What if I put a hook in your mouth? You don’t think that hurts them? You don’t think that’s torture?! Those poor animals! What if that was done to you?! I want to go home.
The father released the fish back into the pond, gathered their equipment and joined his boy.
-- Sweetie, I’m sorry. This was not the father-son bonding moment I’d hoped for. I wasn’t thinking. I know you love animals and are sensitive to their plight. Again, I’m sorry.
-- Can we just go?
-- Maybe we should try a sport or something. You like baseball?
September 14, 2025
OK, a quick update. The network rework, the new computers, the updated software, all playing nicely like they’ve been chums for years. But sadly, it hasn’t been all peaches and cream. No, there was a dirge-like, company-wide, uber somber ceremony for all the legacy apps and hardware that no longer work. Real tears flowed. Did too. As for moi, I have resharpened some of my nerd skills, learned some new nerd stuff, and spent many hours piecing together this digital jigsaw all by my nerd self. What? A superhero? Me? Aw, go on…
September 15, 2025
The age old battle between mother and daughter.
-- You’re not going dressed like that!
-- You’re not the boss of me.
-- The hell I’m not. Go change out of those booty shorts and put on some respectable clothing.
-- Mom, I didn’t even know the guy.
-- He was your uncle, Ginette. We’re going to his funeral. Show some respect.
-- I met him once when I was maybe 5. I don’t even know what he looks like. Why do I have to go?
-- Ginette, Uncle Harold was your father’s brother. He travelled all over the world for business. He was rich. The will hasn’t been read yet. Daddy is hoping Harold was kind to him and we don’t want to ruin the whole thing because you look like a whore at his funeral. Now change.
-- I hate you.
-- Of course you do.
-- I mean it.
-- (sigh)
September 16, 2025
I have eliminated our webfeed. Shocked? I know! If you had subscribed, I’m sorry but it’s gone. I will tell you that this was an executive decision made by an executive. You can’t get any more real than that. So with a tear in my eye, a lump in my throat, a pain in my lumbago, a runny nose, some vertigo, a sore knee, anger issues and a quick temper, I say, Toodles, webfeed, toodles.
September 17, 2025
I allowed someone to escape. Who they were, what they did and where they went is a mystery to all but me, and my lips are sealed. I even went though the motions of locking my mouth and throwing away the key. Damn, since I can’t talk anymore I guess that’s that.
September 18, 2025
I had a piece of seldom used software that I downloaded for free when it was in beta form perhaps 25 years ago. I used it occasionally up until we changed out our network a week ago. Their newest version is like 9 iterations past that beta and now costs a pretty penny. On a lark, I contacted the company and told them I wanted to upgrade. Really? Yup. After I supplied them the build number and date of release, they verified it and agreed to give me their latest and greatest for the upgrade fee. Really? Yup. Now that’s customer service.
September 19, 2025
Overheard a couple of older ladies at the doctor’s office.
-- Darlene, you know I don’t like to gripe, but there’s three things. Groceries are too damned expensive and I can barely afford to eat. Two, thanks for giving me a ride to the doctor’s but squeezing into that little car almost did me in, and three, I’m ‘bout to kill that Wilma woman who moved in two doors down.
-- Someone new? I haven’t seen her.
-- You can’t miss her. She’s this bleach blond, big fake boobies, three times divorced, open flirter - that tell you what kind of woman she is?
-- A floozie?
-- Bingo. Ladies, hold onto your men.
-- What else about her you don’t like makes you want to kill her?
-- All the men are drooling over her. Makes me sick.
-- Is that why you’re at the doctor’s? ‘Cause you’re sick of men?
-- What? No. Jesus, Darlene.
(The front desk calls)
-- Earnestine Gibbons.
-- That’s me. Gotta go.
-- Ok, good luck. I’ll see you later.
-- Darlene, where the hell you going?
-- I’m leaving.
-- How am I gonna get home?
-- Oh.
-- That was kind of dumb. Just wait here. Don’t go anywhere.
-- You want me to just sit here. And wait. For however long it takes?
-- Now you got it.
(Earnestine walks away while Darlene fumes)
-- Bitch. “Squeezing into that little car ‘bout did me in”. If only. Bitch. "Sit and don't move for however long it takes." Bitch, I ain't no golden retriever. I should just leave her here. Get the floozie to pick her up. Wouldn't that be funny. "That was kinda dumb, Darlene. What are you so dumb, Darlene. You're really dumb, Darlene." Bitch.
September 20, 2025
He was a one-man IT department for a law firm of 14 people. He was also afraid of losing his job to AI. He was also a lonely pervert not above blackmailing lawyers. He installed hidden cameras in the men’s and women’s bathrooms, spent hours making lewd and lascivious AI images of both the male and female lawyers and was ready to post them online should he need to for his blackmailing purposes. In addition, he tapped and recorded all the firm’s personal phone calls and now had enough dirt on everyone to be at his job for life. And just to make sure they never try and delete him, he installed a backdoor into their network should they ever find out about his perverted ways and even think about firing him. Is this really the sordid state of job security in 2025?
September 21, 2025
Tomorrow is the first day of Fall. This makes today the last day of Summer. Are you looking forward to what’s coming or are you grieving for what’s passing? On a scale of 1-10, are you happy, annoyed, bummed, pleased, sad or couldn’t give a fig about this seasonal transition?
September 22, 2025
Decades ago, a friend and I made an amazing 500 foot free-form metal fence around our yard. This is but 5 feet of it. Cool, eh? Most people think a fence is to either keep something out or keep something in. Silly people. Ours won’t keep bears out or dogs in but it is a splendid, artistic, semi-functional, wickedly creative barrier that never fails to catch your eye and is a visual demarcation between the big bad feral world and the civilized one inside the fence. That’s right, I said we’re civilized. Why, what have you heard?
September 23, 2025
She went to a hypnotist to stop smoking. Her conservative husband went to the hypnotist with her hoping he could get his conservative wife to have more sex. While she was under for the smoking issue, he brought it up.
-- Doc, can you increase her sex drive?
-- First off, I’m not a doctor. But if there are no underlying medical issues, I can try.
-- Could you get her aroused?
-- Now? Here?
-- Uh huh.
The hypnotist turns his attention back to the wife.
-- Not smoking has gotten you all heated up. You’re on fire. You’re so hot. The room is hot. You’re getting uncomfortably warm. You’re flushed from the heat. The only thing you can do is remove some clothing…
Five minutes later she was writhing topless on the floor of the office to the shock of both the hypnotist and the husband. In her wanton state she invited both of them to join her. This was more than the husband could stand and told the hypnotist to bring her out of it. Only he couldn’t. She defied all his suggestions.
-- Come on, Doc, she’s scaring me. Do something.
-- There is only one thing I can do and it’s counterproductive.
-- Doc, she’s orgasming! Get her to stop! Do whatever you have to!
The hypnotist turns to the wife.
-- It’s all over. It was the best sex you’ve ever had. Now all you want is to sit up in bed and smoke a cigarette. A delicious, relaxing, after sex cigarette.
She stops what’s she doing, leans back against his desk and starts to pretend smoke.
-- Oh my god, I never want to see her like that again! The desire! The writhing!
-- But you wanted her to have more sex. I’d say mission accomplished.
-- Not that way! I wanted her to maybe wear a nun costume or something. Not that. The gyrating, the moans, that wasn’t my wife, that was…a whore!
-- Look at her enjoying that cigarette. I’m afraid now she will associate sex with that cigarette and be a smoker for life. Like I said, counterproductive.
-- Well Doc, this was a fiasco. You’ve reinforced her smoking, she’s turned into a whore, I'm a wreck, what else do you have to say?
-- That'll be $125, please.
September 24, 2025
A friend introduced us. He said that she had an unusual living arrangement and scrolled through his phone until he found a shot of her apartment. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, there were hundreds of pictures of her. All her. Nobody else. She was even in the room when he took the photo but she just looked like another picture of herself. I asked her why. She shrugged and said, “Self-love? Narcissism? An inordinate fascination with oneself?” “That’s the definition of narcissism,” I said. She smiled, “Then narcissism it is!” Wow.
September 25, 2025
We were in his office discussing the finer points of my writing contract when he turned his computer monitor to show me a clause. I couldn’t even read it. He had the magnification turned up to 300%. The letters were each nine feet tall and got about 5 words on a page until you had to scroll.
-- Jesus, Barry, you can count the pixels. Are you blind?
-- Prety much, yeah.
-- I can’t read this unless I turn the zoom back to 100%.
-- Go ahead.
I do it, read the offending clause and put the magnification level back to 300%.
-- Barry, you can only zoom Word to 200%. How are you getting it bigger than that?
-- My secretary put some program on it that allows me to go to 500%. But that’s a bridge too far for even me.
-- Concerning the clause, I’m ok with it.
-- Good. Then we’re done here. I’ll treat you to lunch but it has to be take-out.
He opens a desk drawer and pulls out several gigantic menus to some local eateries.
-- Good god, man, those are four feet tall!
-- Yeah, my secretary gets the take-out menus and blows them up a few hundred times so I can read ‘em. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Probably starve.
-- Tell me something, Barry. You’re a contract lawyer for the entertainment business. Don’t you have to be able to read to do this job?
-- When I started, I could see perfectly. But over time, the fine print did me in.
-- Just as long as the fine print doesn’t do me in.
-- What? Is there fine print in your contract? I didn’t see it. Oh well. What do you think about roast duck?
-- For lunch?!
September 26, 2025
Have you ever had any paranormal experiences? Has anything happened in your life so out of the ordinary that you just couldn’t explain it? If so, what was your response? Did you think about it for a minute and then forget it? Did you convince yourself that what you saw or experienced wasn’t real? Did it continue to haunt you? Our rational minds will always try to make sense of the paranormal, but there will be no sense made because what happened was paranormal. Not normal. It doesn’t tell you how it happened or why it happened, just that it was not normal.
Testimonials
Me and my boyfriend saw a UFO but nobody believes us. This made my boyfriend mad and he now has anger issues. I hate the paranormal! Don’t get me started.
I saw a ghost in my bedroom once but it turns out it was my brother Todd trying to see me naked. Perv. That’s definitely not normal, is it?
Me and Maria were in the hot tub when Satan jumped in in a red Speedo. The tub temperature when from 103 to 109 and me and Maria almost got burned by Satan. Maria asked him what was he doing in our hot tub but before he could answer the water started boiling and me and Maria got out fast. That was probably paranormal. Definitely weird.
My husband swears that our deceased son has been contacting him in his sleep. Our boy drowned in 1962. He keeps telling my husband to buy Xerox stock. Is that paranormal or just insider trading?
Once, when I was babysitting, I saw Sigmund Freud eating a sandwich in the kitchen. He was there plain as day. He saw me staring and said, “Girlie, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” But I’m pretty sure that’s a Groucho Marx line which means Freud is stealing from Groucho Marx which is kind of, I dunno, slumming it, dontcha think? When I told him he was a figment of my imagination, he laughed and said, “A Jungian, figures. I’m guessing you have mommy issues too.” That bastard! I was so incensed I threw the kid I was babysitting at him. Freud caught little Teddy and they both disappeared. OMG, you should have heard the screaming when the parents got home. I’m done with the paranormal!
I’m probably the last testimonial because my experience was so mind blowing that nothing could top it. I still can’t believe it. My name is Gary and I have just woken up from a 14 year coma. The nurse told me that Donald Trump is President. That’s fuckin’ paranormal, right?
September 27, 2025
Some people collect dolls, Larry Baker collected size. He had a gigantic aquarium that measured 265”x120”x36”. His enormous computer monitor was 57”. His humongous TV was 115”. His Alaskan King bed was 108”x108”. His Fleetwood Cadillac, the biggest ever, was 253” long. Dimensions in inches were Larry Baker’s thing. It’s been speculated that Larry’s diminutive stature (62 inches; 5’2") may have been a factor in his measuring the world in teeny tiny increments. That was finally laid to rest after an intense appearance on The Merv Griffin show, when Merv became fixated on Larry and the inches thing and kept pressing him to explain why anybody in their right mind would do such a thing or live their life that way and eventually Merv wondered out loud if there wasn't something wrong with little Larry Baker. That was when Larry confessed, Inches just sounds bigger! The disappointment on Merv's face was telling. That's it?! That's why you do it? Let's get Charo out here to see if she thinks Larry is nuts. Ladies and Gentlemen, Charo! Coochie coochie! Merv, I agree with Larry Baker. I always measure in inches. 36-25-35! Coochie coochie!
Moral of the story? In this case, could there possibly be one?
September 28, 2025
I have a multitude of work related things to do today but instead, it is that rare Sunday when professional baseball, football and hockey all play on the same day. The Toronto Blue Jays can win the AL East today in the very last game of the regular season; the Green Bay Packers are the Sunday Night Football game and the Vancouver Canucks play this afternoon. Work? We don’t need no stinkin’ work.
September 29, 2025
You’re lying on your deathbed. You’ve been thinking about your last words. In your head you’ve tried several mundane lines that just don't work. It’s getting late, your brain is mush, so now you’re ready to steal someone else’s last lines. But your memory is shit by now and only two famous people come to mind. Now you must choose.
Oscar Wilde’s, “Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.”
Or
Steve Jobs’s, “OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.”
You look around the room and see that it’s painted white, no wallpaper. Drat, Wilde is out the window. Then you fret that what awaits you may not be worthy of an OH WOW, but could easily be an OH DEAR, or OH FUCK or NOOOOOOO. But then you decide that OH WOW's fine because it's getting hard to breathe.
It’s time.
Your family gathers ‘round. You clear your throat and almost time your last words perfectly as you faintly utter, “OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW”, but instead of dying, linger on long enough to hear your twat of a nephew declare, “That’s Steve Jobs! He stole Steve Jobs’s last words. What a pathetic loser!” Now you get to die watching everyone you’ve ever loved besotted with cringe and the smirk on your nephew’s now punchable face is the last thing you see. Ugh. How to avoid this ignominy? Craft your last words long before you need to use your last words.
