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KeithSpeak - June 2024


June 1, 2024
A young couple were discussing their future.
-- Do you have any ideas for a business? Something we could do together?
-- Not really, Cindy. You?
-- Ok, I did have one thought. You remember when I took that trip with my parents to see our relatives down south?
-- Yeah.
-- Well at one point we pulled into this really cool, down home, vintage gas station. It was like a time warp. It had huge shade trees overhanging the old pumps and inside the quaint office it was like stepping back into the 50s, but it was comfortable and warm and clean. I remember the bathrooms were immaculate. The vibe of the whole place was, I dunno, gentle.
-- Gentle?
-- Soft, desirable, comfortable. My Dad had been talking about maybe buying an EV and I remember thinking to myself, what if we had a cool, homey, 50s style service station but with all the modern amenities - only instead of selling gas, we charge EVs?
-- So make an EV service station?
-- We have a small, cute building with clean, modern restrooms, a lounge with nice, comfortable seating, a big screen TV and maybe a games table or two. I think we should also add a reading nook. We sell snacks and pastries, cold cut sandwiches and drinks and people can hang out for an hour or more while they charge their vehicles. But we offer no EV servicing. We have no garage, we don't sell tires or air fresheners, all we do is charge their car, sell food inside and provide a comfortable place to spend time waiting. The key is warm, clean, modern but vintage.
-- Like a restomod.
-- A what?
-- A vintage car where you keep its classic looks but you upgrade everything else with modern components. 
-- I prefer to think of it as a mom and pop EV station. It could literally be run by two people. A mom and pop.
-- It's a really good idea, Cin.
-- We keep it small. Maybe put in 6-8 charging stations. There is no need to go big and try and compete with Shell. Instead, we just build another small station and then another and another. Pete, we could become a premium charging destination with franchises. We keep it vintage, small and super clean with fast charging units and we might just have ourselves a desirable business model.
-- Cindy, I think that's brilliant.
-- I dunno, should we do it?
-- I want to do it.
-- Ok then. But we need to keep this quiet. Don't want it to get out on the Internet.
June 2, 2024
Little Donnie criminal, ignorant little twerp, greedy little grifter, porn star fucker and liar, three time loser, twice impeached charlatan now with 34 FELONY CONVICTIONS and 57 more to come, continues to whine and pound his baby fists - Unfair! bleats little Donnie criminal. Are you surprised? Why?
They are who we thought they were.
                                    Dennis Green
June 3, 2024
I received a check from the government and my name was spelled wrong. You'd think if anybody would know the correct spelling of one's name it would be the government. And this wasn't just one letter off, it was...it was as if someone was phonetically trying to spell my name after having heard it spoken. It was so mangled that the bank wouldn't even cash it. I called the issuing office and told them of my problem. They agree to cancel the first check and send me a replacement. It arrived today. The name is right. Yea. But the amount is wrong. Sigh.
June 4, 2024
Overheard two men in a coffee shop.
-- I need you to indulge me.
-- Ok.
-- Tell me your worst fear.
-- Why?
-- Just do it.
-- But then you could use it against me.
-- Why would I do that?
-- Because Barry, my biggest fear is you.
-- How sweet!
-- You are controlling and dominant and sometimes you scare me.
-- You're such a pussy.
-- I keep asking myself: If I love him, why do I fear him?
-- Honestly, I rather like the feeling of power I'm getting from your subordination.
-- You're scaring me, ok. I want a safe word.
-- Yes, that might be handy.
-- Hanukkah.
-- What?
-- Hanukkah is my safe word.
-- You're not even Jewish.
-- They're oppressed people, Barry. Make the connection.
June 5, 2024
How many times has this happened to you? You go to a party where you don't know anybody so the host introduces you to someone strange and walks away. Awk-ward. Look, if you can't think of something to say to somebody you don't know, wish them a happy birthday, whenever that may be. Everybody has a birthday and everybody hopes it goes well on their birthday so it's a safe if unconventional bet. But be prepared, likely, they will be thrown for a loop, maybe laugh, maybe think you're weird, maybe just look perplexed, but at least you have broken the ice and are now free to discuss sex, politics, religion and the state of their marriage. Are too.
June 6, 2024
A British editor called and said a piece I wrote for them was "clever, cute and funny." I was about to mew demurely, Aw shucks... when he said, But we don't want cute. We want hard hitting, we want provocative, we want sensational. You want click bait, I finished. Yessssss, he hissed. Ack, what have I gotten myself into?
June 7, 2024
I didn't know the guy well, he was more the friend of a friend, which kind of made it hard to say no when he told me he's really into making his own beer and invited me to have a taste. So how do you tell an enthusiastic beer maker that his home brew is, um, rather ordinary? It often seems the main focus of these do it yourselvers is the cost. It's cheaper than buying beer at the liquor store. But you get what you pay for. Of course you can't say that without offending someone you barely know. So I merely employed the scoundrel's refuge, I lied.
June 8, 2024
The crime scene was a garage.
-- Jones, I want you to circle the blood stains and draw lines around the victims. I can't quite put my finger on it but something fishy is going on here.
-- You finished yet, Jones?
-- Yes, Sergeant.
-- Well well well, what do we have here.
-- I circled the blood just like you said. Then I outlined all the remains, only the chalk got wet from the blood and wouldn't work and then I ran out of chalk because you gave me the kids size package. As you can see, these guys were all crinkled and insanely tall - I think, and I know this sounds crazy, but I think they could be...aliens! - anyway, like I said, the chalk was useless but I found some paint I could use.
-- Damn good job, Jones. Very professional. Everything is pretty clear except for one...little...thing.
-- Hey, you think there is any turpentine around here because I got all this yellow paint on my gun-
-- What I don't understand is that bloodstain.
-- You mean because it's so big? Or that it's orangeish? Ok, I already told you about my chalk issues, then I saw the orange paint and I said to myself-
-- Not that, Jones. See the drain in the floor running east west? I'm wondering how the blood crossed that drain because look, there's more on the other side. Blood moves slowly, so why did it not all go down the drain?
-- Sir, about these aliens-
-- Hmm, those body lines are hugging that blood stain, Jones. Which end was their head? What orientation am I looking at here?  
-- They were aliens, sir! I can't even tell how many there were! I outlined everything I saw but I don't know what I was looking at! Oh my god, sir, aliens!
-- Calm down, Jones. You're getting all worked up over some strange looking dudes.
-- That's just it, I don't even think they were male or female! And there was no head! They were...they were...it was horrible, Sergeant.
-- Huh, so skinny too. What do these people eat?
-- People?! PEOPLE! Will you look how long they are! It's nuts! They're no people.
-- The crinkly bits, think those are joints?
-- They were not of this Earth, sir!
-- We're gonna have to call in forensics. This Sheriff's nose smells something fishy going on.
June 10, 2024
Got up. A bear in the yard. Going back to sleep.
June 11, 2024
He overcooked the fish. The chef went nuts, picked up an old baguette and swung it at him like Jose Bautista belting a homer, but the sous-chef ducked, grabbed a handful of hot French fries and threw them at the chef. "First the fish! Now the fries! You're fired!" It was the fourth sous-chef in the last year. The investors in the restaurant were getting nervous. He's a great chef, sure, but he's temperamental and vindictive and nobody can work with him for long.
The investors first offered to pay for therapy about his anger issues. But the enraged chef threw an end table at them. Then they tried docking his pay every time he fired another sous-chef but he said if they did that he would hunt them down one by one. Then they installed a no nonsense house manager who was assaulted with a live lobster after he tried to discipline the kitchen czar. Finally, they brought in a restaurant fixer. But within the first hour the chef stabbed him with a casserole spoon, so that was never going to work out. The fixer told the investors they had a madman in the kitchen. But he's a great chef, they whined. We're making good money, they whined. Why do we have to do something, they whined.
The almost final line was crossed when a customer sent back her undercooked steak. The chef came out of the kitchen and threw the piece of meat at the shocked customer, stating, "It was perfectly done. YOU, madam, are the underdone one. No one questions the chef! Get out!"
The final final line was crossed when the investors thought the chef might actually kill someone when he added puffer fish to the menu and even though his food was to die for, it definitely wasn't worth dying for. So they fired him. In turn, each investor was hunted down one by one. They didn't like his anger issues, but no one was calling him a liar.
The moral of the story? Giving too much power to mentally disturbed people shouldn't happen in a restaurant or politics.
June 12, 2024
He was walking downtown talking out loud as if he was having a phone conversation. But the guy had no visible earpiece and was wearing Speedos and a wife beater, neither of which could have held a phone. He was animated, talking really fast in a nonexistent conversation with no one, wearing an inappropriate outfit and sadly, most likely, mentally challenged. But from the outset it was hard to differentiate between a crazy dude talking out loud in public and a modern dude on Bluetooth talking out loud in public. We here at Keith Ryan Publishing can't help but wonder if society isn't doomed.
June 15, 2024
Who isn't sick of the convicted orange criminal dominating the news? Here's a handy guide to help you discern real from fake.
Real Trump:
A world class loser.
A stupid man.
A lying piece of shit.
The dupe who messed with democracy and promulgated the big lie to disastrous results.
The failed felony fucker of a porn star with his freakishly little, horrid, Mario Kart dick.
A criminal indicted 91 times and a convicted felon 34 times over (so far).
A self-proclaimed genius businessman who has gone bankrupt six fucking times!!!
A lawsuit addicted chump who has fostered over 5,000 lawsuits and hundreds of tax disputes.
A quote billionaire who can't pay his legal fees, the court judgments against his criminal and sexual activities, and will stiff anybody who does anything for him.
A fat, greasy, ignorant little man in way over his tiny hands and head.
An old man who is in obvious cognitive decline and unfit for anything outside the home.
Fake Trump:
Every damn thing he has ever said is a lie including over 30,000 lies told while in office.
That he is worthy of anything but scorn and derision.
That he has even the faintest idea of how he appears to sane people and how many hate him.
That he has one iota of class, empathy, or understanding for anything but me me me.
That he thinks shitting in his gold toilet makes him special.
He's a vain twerp who bathes in orange baby poo.
He's a vain twerp who applies his powders and disinfectants like he's Louie the 14th.
That on his head is a gob of stringy, fake, straw hair transplanted from his fat ass to his empty head fooling no one into thinking he's anything but a vain twerp.
That his family is comprised of a gold digger wife, his imbecile sons and the daughter he longs to fuck.
That he ever was president instead of a buffoon wearing the title.
That he's deluded enough to think he can be anything other than the loser he is and will always be.
June 16, 2024
"If I won the lottery I would refuse the money because it's welfare, isn't it? The lottery is a commie plot to destroy America." - Maxim Ivanovitch
"Listen to him. Commie plot. If so, why then does Maxim buy lottery tickets? I think it's to deprive me if he wins." - Mrs. Maxim Ivanovitch
"When I was little I asked him for a dollar to give to a homeless man and he gave me a 10 minute lecture on how giving money away is a slap in the face to Communism and that the homeless guy will be taken care of by the State. He wasn't, that's why he was homeless." - Igor Ivanovitch, son of Maxim
"I just want to know why he plays the lottery if he's never going to collect any winnings. I'm sure it's to deprive me." - Mrs. Maxim Ivanovitch
"His lottery commie rouse is all talk. Trust me, he'll collect the money, even if it's in the dark of night when no one is looking. Then he'll divorce the Mrs." - Boris Constantine, Maxim's cousin and bookie
"I have to work two jobs just so he can play the lottery! I'm sick of it!" - Mrs. Maxim Ivanovitch
"I miss the old Russia." - Maxim Ivanovitch
June 17, 2024
When Jerry and Martha asked their impressionable 12 year old son, Brayden, what he was going to be when he grew up, he paused from looking at his 19 social media accounts and replied, "A politician. I hate immigrants." Both his parents were horrified and immediately moved the family to Vanuatu to dispel any more media fostered, worthless, demeaning, xenophobic, corrupt political leanings their impressionable boy had absorbed. Now he was the immigrant. How did he feel about that? Without waiting for an answer they opened up a banana stand, something they saw on TV once and liked. A few days later, bored with bananas, Brayden went on to invent the burner phone. We can't even remember the date. But it happened today, in history.
June 18, 2024
Overheard two couples arguing in a park.
-- We were here first so we should get the bench. Now get up you two.
-- If you were here first, how come me and Larry are sitting on the bench and not you?
-- Just get up.
-- My husband is handicapped, can't you see his cane? Show him your cane, Larry.
-- Cane-schmame, we are twenty years older and we need to sit down. So move your asses.
-- Don't you talk to us that way! You stay right there, Larry.
-- What are you and cane boy gonna do about it?
-- Come on, Mark, we should go. There are other benches in the park.
-- They're too far away, Hilda! I need to sit down now fer christsakes. So lady you and your husband better get up before I remove you from that bench.
-- Don't you talk to us that way! Who do you think you are? This isn't some city bus where you can look like a tough guy and bully some schmuck into giving up their seat for you. This is a public park. So you two just go away.
-- Come on, Mark.
-- Now you're on their side, Hilda?
-- It's ok, Esme, we can move on.
-- No it's not, Larry. This cranky old prick ain't ever getting this bench. I'll sleep here if I have to. You hear that, you two? Sleep here!
-- Come on, Mark.
-- They think they own that bench.
-- In a way they do, in a way they do.
June 19, 2024
He was 65 if a day and he dropped into the bowl at the skateboard park like he knew what he was doing. But then the front trucks on his ancient board came off and he fell head first down the concrete wall sliding to the bottom of the bowl where he lay writhing in pain clutching his shoulder. The two front wheels were on their back furiously spinning a few feet away. The nose of his old wooden board had a long, ugly crack and the Hang 10 decal was shredded.
Moral of the story? Just because you used to be able to do something as a kid and got a hankering to relive past glories does not mean your ancient, unmaintained, dried out, wooden skateboard with the metal wheels has held up over the decades, or that you are in any kind of shape (brittle bones being what they are), to even attempt a redux 50 years later. Ok, sure, that's not a moral...more of a cautionary tale. Still, just to be safe, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
June 20, 2024
So what would happen if you took control of yourself. If you stopped blaming others for whatever happens to you and instead took responsibility for being there, for having the experience. Regardless of whether it's "bad" or "good", you are involved and living it so why not accept responsibility for it? What would happen if you took control? I'll tell you what. You'd be living a different life than the one you are now living and are clueless about. And you would come to realize that life does not just "happen to you". You create it. Capish?
June 22, 2024
Bought something new that worked for a bit and then didn't. The day it quit I just happened to read an article on the man who invented planned obsolescence. Was I the victim of this madman's greed and malice toward consumers? How dare he! I should write a letter.
June 23, 2024
Overheard two women at the pharmacy.
-- My husband is bleeding us dry. His drugs are so expensive.
-- What's wrong with him?
-- Everything. Back, legs, neck, stomach, brain, you name it. We're not made of money, you know.
-- How old is he?
-- 53.
-- That seems pretty young to be having all his problems.
-- You think? Sometimes I wonder if he gets sick just to make me mad.
-- No one would do that intentionally.
-- Trust me, he's a real piece of work. I wouldn't put anything past him.
-- That's terrible.
-- I do everything. He just sits on his ass and complains.
-- That's terrible.
-- Tell me about it. So what are you here for?
-- Pain pills.
-- You're in pain?
-- Always.
-- Life is nothing but a slow killer.
-- I'm not dying.
-- But you will and life will have killed you, slowly. That's all I'm sayin'.
-- You sound world weary.
-- Sometimes I wonder if he gets sick just to make me mad. I do.
June 24, 2024
He invented a board game. He made a prototype and tried to sell it to the big companies but they all passed. He ended up spending his own money to manufacture the game and then went door to door to sell it. That didn't really work. Then he tried selling it at specific conventions and *cons but didn't have much success there either. He went hot and heavy spreading the word on Facebook and Instagram, but again, bupkis. So after a while the question becomes, when, if ever, will he stop pursuing a dream nobody else wants? When does he admit that the dream didn't work out the way he hoped? And when does he evaluate what he did  get out of the dream? Because he exercised great imagination and creativity to create the game from nothing, bolster its presence by manufacturing it, believing in it so fully that he tried every possible venue to sell it and in the process learned a whole lot about the industry, the fickle public, and the clickiness of the online world. When, if ever, does he learn that a successful dream may show you what you need, not what you want?
June 25, 2024
Finally, after two and a half centuries, the translation has been completed!
Frankly, the researchers are shocked.
It seems the entire stela is a call for more cowbell.
June 26, 2024
I got contacted about writing a screenplay for an actor's production company. The problem for me is I'm not a fan. I don't really like the guy or respect him as an actor. They are offering scale and have some dubious demands for the movie, all of which are get-out-of-jail-free cards for me, but damn if there isn't one intriguing aspect that is causing my hesitation - he already has a commitment from an actress I would really like to write for. Can I stomach him to service her?
June 28, 2024
So as not to lose sight of what's important, we offer a poem for America's political choice:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
One is a pathological lying gasbag and convicted felon
The other isn't
June 29, 2024
You remember that song with the lyric, One is the loneliest number? The hell. It's either 0 or 14. What an idiot!
June 30, 2024
Someone young asked me what old movie serials were like. Well, son, they were like this:
He was driving down the street when he saw an Open House sign in front of a lovely older home. For some reason, he stopped and parked. He was not in the market for a house but something compelled him to walk inside. As if pulled, he went straight upstairs to one of the kids bedrooms, locked the door and turned around. He fixated on the bed, shoved it out of the way and found loose floorboards underneath. With an Easy Bake Oven spatula he started prying them up. The realtor knocked on the door asking if he was all right and then demanded that he unlock the door right now. He kept wresting out the boards. She threatened to call the police. He could now see that hidden back in a cavity between the joists was a bag. The realtor informed him she was dialing 911 this very second! He reached in as far as his arm could go, and while she pounded on the door and ranted to the police, he grasped the bag and pulled it out. There was nothing familiar about it, nor did he know what was in it, so with great trepidation he slowly opened it and looked inside. Sweet Jesus! What he found shocked him!

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