RSS

Category Archives: writing

Just Like Seein’ Bigfoot

You know how whenever anyone sees Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster or Ogopogo, they’re so freaked out that they can’t snap a decent picture of what’s obviously, definitely, not horseshit and is instead really right in front of them? So what you get is something that looks like a large, blurry man in a Bigfoot suit:

Bigfoot Classic

Or a snorkeler with a Monster-Shaped Sock Puppet:

Loch Ness Monster

Or I guess sometimes yes, they do get a decent picture of Ogopogo. Watch out, kids!

Ogopogo

Well that’s how I feel when I see a Women For Romney bumper sticker. Let me tell you something – they are OUT there. You just have to keep your eyes open. My friend Spang and I call each other when we see them – ohmygod, ohmygod, OHMYGOD! TOM! I SAW ONE!

Then we get cosmos. Other than that, we’re pretty manly.

But not the bumper sticker. I’ve never been able to get a clear picture of one, but here’s an artist’s rendition straight from my own personal Google Image files:

Women For Romney

See? It’s pink – that means chicks dig it. And some of the letters are all fancy, like a girl wrote it on her notebook, a girl who doesn’t just “like” Romney, but who “‘like’ likes” him. Sometimes they don’t even get bumper stickers, they just spray paint their whole Romney-ending name all over their car, as if they’ve already married him and his First Wife. Stephanie Meredith Romney! In a big heart, you know.

But anyway, today I saw this cryptozoological wonder cross my path:

Bigfoot2

Holy shit! Christians For Obama!

At first, I didn’t even comprehend it. Why would Christians ever vote for a guy who is not only a Muslim, but also a Satanist AND an Atheist? FROM KENYA?

I don’t know, but this guy not only did it, but he’s permanently bragging about it on his car! Who’s driving it, Mothman??

I’ll tell you, it was a spiritual experience, like looking the Abominable Snowman right in the eye across a card table, thinking, “He’s got the jack. He doesn’t have the jack. HE’S GOT THE JACK!”

Surely you can relate. Anyway, someone needs to fly me to Loch Ness or to Bigfoot Town (Canada? Seattle? I don’t know where Bigfoot lives) cause do you see how I calmly stopped texting while I was driving, and snapped a picture of the Sasquatchmobile? I’m like motherscratching Steve McQueen, baby.

Cool, now I have to go run this by some network execs, make some scratch. Don’t show anybody, blogosphere, because it’s not worth any money that way.

Bigfoot SuitNow, I know a lot of you are like, Tom, that could just be a Jesus Fish Eating A Darwin Fish bumper sticker wearing a Christians For Obama bumper sticker suit. Like when those knuckleheads said they had Bigfoot in a freezer and instantly, pre-Tom-On-Facebook, someone came to my desk to show me their Facebook page and asked me what I thought of it.

I said, “Well, shit, I’d say that’s either Bigfoot in a freezer, or it’s a Bigfoot Suit in a freezer. And since we already know there are Bigfoot suits, and since we don’t know if there’s Bigfoot, etc., etc. etc.”

Well – we’ll just have to let Science decide, and Science can tell History, and someone from Television can give me a check, is how I think this works. I’m going to get a new suit and a steak dinner, you guys stay here in case my studio check shows up.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A Word About My Name

Daily Prompt again – Say My Name, in which we are supposed to tell a story about our names.

Elmer FuddCool. I was named directly after my father’s brother, and not because of any pride of lineage or anything like that. Apparently, Mad Men-style, they had a little trouble locating my dad at my birth. He was on a bit of a bender.

It was 1971, so the dads didn’t do anything but smoke cigars and pace around anyway, so it’s not like I’m asking for a violinist. That’s just the fact. It always seemed sort of lazy, just picking the nearest guy and slapping his name on my head. But no, it was more a function of irritation I think.

For this reason, I often refer to my uncle as the Experimental, Government-Funded Prototype. Usually good for a laugh.

Then there’s my last name – Chalfant. It’s actually my father’s stepdad’s last name. Mr. Chalfant adopted my father and the Experimental Government-Funded Prototype when they were about 2 and 4, and then promptly skipped town. It was the forties, and I guess the guy was a rolling stone. That’s how it goes.

Here’s something odd. My mother first married my father – Dave. He had a brother named Tom. So she had two sons, Tom and Dave. Meanwhile, my uncle had a son named Thomas Scott, who goes by Scott for obvious reasons.

So then my mom divorced my dad, and married a guy named Dave. He had a son named David Shawn. That guy went by Shawn, but he’s not the Shawn you see hanging around here.

Then she divorced Dave and married a guy named Tom. Keepin’ it simple.

Guess what my last name would have been if the Mr. Chalfant hadn’t adopted my dad? BUTY!

Buty!

Close call, I agree.

All right then. Good thing it was a short prompt, cause I got to go.

Booty Sweat

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 28, 2013 in writing, Writing/blogging

 

Tags: , , , , ,