VINCE'S JOURNAL
IF I WERE KING
I would make TV news producers admit that they are unhappy unless they have a big juicy holocaust as their lead story on the five o'clock news. I would make news anchors stop exaggerating every forest fire story with tales of enormous destruction of buildings which turn out to be incinerated chicken coops and an old tool shed or two.
WEATHER (You Can't Win Dept.)
Hey, it wasn't raining when I woke up this morning. But the forecast is for more heavy wind and rain. I wonder if the farmers are happy with all the water in their fields. Of course it doesn't matter what the weather is, some farmers always complain about destroyed crops and water-damaged almonds. I guess they're right. Timing is everything. However, when the timing for rain or sun is just right and the crops grow like mad, that's bad news too. Then the market is glutted and the price falls out the bottom. Pity the poor farmers.
GOLF
My new swing quit working. It is a mystery why I can't maintain a consistent swing. 'Course even pros have trouble at times. A pro can shoot 75 one day and 65 the next. It must all be feel.
GARDENING
One of the old privet trees fell over in the storm last night -- missed everything, did no damage. It's the first lucky break I've had all year. The onions and garlic. as far as I can see from the shoots above ground, are undamaged by all the rain. Parsley is doing well and even spreading out. And hey, the back lawn is coming up thick and green. That's a mystery since I neglected the back lawn all summer, just let it turn brown. It must be some drought resistant grass planted by the former owners of this property 30 years ago. Good on them!
PETS
Tommy the cat is disoriented in this stormy weather. He's frightened of the wind, frightened of things that fall over on the deck and go BOOM! He's frightened when the camp robbers come down to eat the birdseed I put out for them. He still hides out in the garage at night and takes his meals there. Nothing is more bedraggled than a bedraggled cat. Sufferin Succotash! I'd be glad to let that cat inside the house to get warmed up but he is afraid -- and rightly so -- that if I ever catch him I'll throw him in the sausage grinder! His mom was wild and I guess she taught Tommy the most important survival trick: don't trust those humans!
SEXUAL PREFERENCE (I'm still in favor of it)
-------------------------
NOW HERE'S THE REAL REASON FOR MY JOURNAL
I PLAN TO GET RICH
It's not a complicated plan.
Just a simple little concept.
THE WHOLE IDEA IS TO GET YOU TO MAKE ME RICH!
GET IT?
See, to make me rich, all you have to do is:
1) Get on PayPal and
2) Email me five or ten bucks --->> vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Simple, isn't it? Yet so incredibly powerful!
And each day I'll report in my journal how much cash I've taken in.
That way you get in on the excitement too!
BTW, if you don't send me any money then at least email your flimsy excuse to: vgjohnson@wizwire.com
If I think your excuse is imaginative, showing deep thought, I may let it slide.
NOW HERE'S HOW MUCH CASH I'VE COLLECTED SO FAR ---->>: $00.00.
Nothing yet? What is happening?! This is unbelievable! I mean, come on, gang! Puhleeze! How tough can this be?
Now here's YOUR Payoff:
You Get to Read All the Exciting Stuff in My Daily Journal! (while thousands cheer).
Is that a deal or what?
Okay, let's get this thing rolling.
Don't be a slacker.
Vince
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Friday, January 07, 2005
VINCE'S JOURNAL II
January 7, 2005
IF I WERE KING
The first thing I'd do is eliminate all the BS on TV commercials. For example, we've all seen the nonsensical ad exhorting us to get a high school diploma so that during our lifetime we can earn @200,000 more than some poor sap without a diploma.
But what good is a diploma when kids getting out of high school can't read or write? No amount of instruction on computer skills can make up for the inability to write plain English. It is just a fatal ignorance.
There should be some kind of a practical test for teenagers to take which will demonstrate whether or not they have been educated enough to read and understand an instruction manual telling them how to do some useful job for which employers will pay them a salary.
You don't need a diploma in your pocket to follow the instructions in a manual.
WEATHER
No rain for three days. But I'm not worried yet. Precipitation totals stand at about 150 percent of normal. Cold mornings.
GOLF
I have learned that when I'm missing shots, half hitting the ball, topping the ball, those errors are generally caused by quitting on the swing. I believe that the reason so many of us can't drive the ball down the middle with adequate power is because we steer the club into the ball, trying to make sure we don't whiff it.
But the hit happens too fast for such a deliberate swing. It is much more effective to follow Jack Nicklaus' advice -- just make your swing, and let the ball be an incidental object that lies in the path of the club. That way you won't quit on the shot, even on short pitches. The hit is made with the right hand, whipping the club through the ball.
GARDENING
The next door neighbor rooted out a very large stand of blackberry bushes in his backyard and burned them. Made quite a pile of ashes. Nephew Jim's been working in our yard. He went over and got permission to haul the ashes over to the compost pile in our backyard. We now have a huge compost pile, chock full of horse manure, rotting leaves, wood chips, top soil, coffee grounds, banana peels -- you name it. It's all set for the spring vegetable garden.
And do you know that if a compost pile is working right it generates heat? I can feel the heat from that pile. The rising heat is even visible in the cold morning air.
PETS
My sister's pug. Every morning that little mutt races over to my apartment, which is separate from the main house. Pug knows that she can always count on getting a snack from me, usually a hot dog. Pugs are natural comedians. Her favorite demonstration of joy at the prospect of food is to race around in circles until exhausted.
MAC TALK
The damn mail program went down. Couldn't send, couldn't receive. I called up the internet server for advice. Two technicians had different opinions, advising me to do this and that. One kept asking me if I had the authorization set right. Another thought that perhaps my computer was busted. Nothing worked. Finally I clicked authorization OFF so that no authorization was required. Problem solved.
MEDICAL DISASTERS
Went to the doc for a checkup. As an afterthought I asked him for a flu shot. Sure, he said, no problem. I guess the flu shot shortage is over.
AND A FEW MORE WISE-ASS REMARKS
Hey, I got one of those portable steam cleaners. Works great in cleaning all the little nooks and crannies in the refrigerator. Great for the microwave too. Doesn't work as well on the stove as demonstrated on TV. Hard to get rid of the black stuff around the electric burners.
-------------------------
NOW HERE'S THE REAL REASON FOR MY JOURNAL
I PLAN TO GET RICH
It's not a complicated plan.
Just a simple little concept.
THE WHOLE IDEA IS TO GET YOU TO MAKE ME RICH!
GET IT?
See, to make me rich, all you have to do is:
1) Get on PayPal and
2) Email me five or ten bucks --->> vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Simple, isn't it? Yet so incredibly powerful!
And each day I'll report in my journal how much cash I've taken in.
That way you get in on the excitement too!
BTW, if you don't send me any money then at least email your flimsy excuse to: vgjohnson@wizwire.com
If I think your excuse is imaginative, showing deep thought, I may let it slide.
NOW HERE'S HOW MUCH CASH I'VE COLLECTED SO FAR ---->>: $00.00.
Nothing yet? What is happening?! This is unbelievable! I mean, come on, gang! Puhleeze! How tough can this be?
Now here's YOUR Payoff:
You Get to Read All the Exciting Stuff in My Daily Journal! (while thousands cheer).
Is that a deal or what?
Okay, let's get this thing rolling.
Don't be a slacker.
Vince
January 7, 2005
IF I WERE KING
The first thing I'd do is eliminate all the BS on TV commercials. For example, we've all seen the nonsensical ad exhorting us to get a high school diploma so that during our lifetime we can earn @200,000 more than some poor sap without a diploma.
But what good is a diploma when kids getting out of high school can't read or write? No amount of instruction on computer skills can make up for the inability to write plain English. It is just a fatal ignorance.
There should be some kind of a practical test for teenagers to take which will demonstrate whether or not they have been educated enough to read and understand an instruction manual telling them how to do some useful job for which employers will pay them a salary.
You don't need a diploma in your pocket to follow the instructions in a manual.
WEATHER
No rain for three days. But I'm not worried yet. Precipitation totals stand at about 150 percent of normal. Cold mornings.
GOLF
I have learned that when I'm missing shots, half hitting the ball, topping the ball, those errors are generally caused by quitting on the swing. I believe that the reason so many of us can't drive the ball down the middle with adequate power is because we steer the club into the ball, trying to make sure we don't whiff it.
But the hit happens too fast for such a deliberate swing. It is much more effective to follow Jack Nicklaus' advice -- just make your swing, and let the ball be an incidental object that lies in the path of the club. That way you won't quit on the shot, even on short pitches. The hit is made with the right hand, whipping the club through the ball.
GARDENING
The next door neighbor rooted out a very large stand of blackberry bushes in his backyard and burned them. Made quite a pile of ashes. Nephew Jim's been working in our yard. He went over and got permission to haul the ashes over to the compost pile in our backyard. We now have a huge compost pile, chock full of horse manure, rotting leaves, wood chips, top soil, coffee grounds, banana peels -- you name it. It's all set for the spring vegetable garden.
And do you know that if a compost pile is working right it generates heat? I can feel the heat from that pile. The rising heat is even visible in the cold morning air.
PETS
My sister's pug. Every morning that little mutt races over to my apartment, which is separate from the main house. Pug knows that she can always count on getting a snack from me, usually a hot dog. Pugs are natural comedians. Her favorite demonstration of joy at the prospect of food is to race around in circles until exhausted.
MAC TALK
The damn mail program went down. Couldn't send, couldn't receive. I called up the internet server for advice. Two technicians had different opinions, advising me to do this and that. One kept asking me if I had the authorization set right. Another thought that perhaps my computer was busted. Nothing worked. Finally I clicked authorization OFF so that no authorization was required. Problem solved.
MEDICAL DISASTERS
Went to the doc for a checkup. As an afterthought I asked him for a flu shot. Sure, he said, no problem. I guess the flu shot shortage is over.
AND A FEW MORE WISE-ASS REMARKS
Hey, I got one of those portable steam cleaners. Works great in cleaning all the little nooks and crannies in the refrigerator. Great for the microwave too. Doesn't work as well on the stove as demonstrated on TV. Hard to get rid of the black stuff around the electric burners.
-------------------------
NOW HERE'S THE REAL REASON FOR MY JOURNAL
I PLAN TO GET RICH
It's not a complicated plan.
Just a simple little concept.
THE WHOLE IDEA IS TO GET YOU TO MAKE ME RICH!
GET IT?
See, to make me rich, all you have to do is:
1) Get on PayPal and
2) Email me five or ten bucks --->> vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Simple, isn't it? Yet so incredibly powerful!
And each day I'll report in my journal how much cash I've taken in.
That way you get in on the excitement too!
BTW, if you don't send me any money then at least email your flimsy excuse to: vgjohnson@wizwire.com
If I think your excuse is imaginative, showing deep thought, I may let it slide.
NOW HERE'S HOW MUCH CASH I'VE COLLECTED SO FAR ---->>: $00.00.
Nothing yet? What is happening?! This is unbelievable! I mean, come on, gang! Puhleeze! How tough can this be?
Now here's YOUR Payoff:
You Get to Read All the Exciting Stuff in My Daily Journal! (while thousands cheer).
Is that a deal or what?
Okay, let's get this thing rolling.
Don't be a slacker.
Vince
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
MY LIFE ... AND WHY I DID IT
By Vince Johnson
I grew up around Palo Alto and Los Altos, Calif. I've always been a writer. In the fifth grade I wrote fairy tales. I always had the queen flying into a rage, and of course I always threw in a couple ogres to leap out at people.
Since I spent my youth developing a keen eye and a steady hand you may be surprised that I did not make my fortune playing nine-ball. But alas, I could not make those thin cuts in the side pocket.
And upon learning of my ability to ride a bike backwards you may also be surprised to find out that I never joined the circus. I tell myself that it may not be too late yet, in case this writing dodge doesn't pan out.
At Paly High I went out for boxing, swimming, football, baseball, rassling. Good in everything, a standout in nothing, that was me. I wrote sports for the school paper.
At Paly High I fell desperately in love with Sue Fontaine and stole her away from Bud Larsen. I am still looking for Sue. Anybody know whatever happened to her? How about Bud?
The kids are all grown, my wife left me, the dog died. That's pretty much it. Except for the following brutally accurate biography (written by a paid hireling):
VINCE'S LIFE AND WHY HE DID IT
The Incredible Story of a Brilliant Scholar Who Against Crushing Odds Survived a Life of Unending Pain, Anguish and Rotten Breaks to achieve international fame as:
The Palo Alto Flash
Wonder Boy
Poet at Large
Invincible Pool Shark
Trick Bike Rider
Dead Shot, All Weapons
Tireless Inventive Stud
Champion Booze Fighter
Long Off the Tee
[Note that this restrained account of his life was ruthlessly checked for accuracy by Vince himself.]
The cool recitation continues:
It would be neither fair nor factual to pass over this wonder boy with a mere catalogue of his glittering accomplishments.
In a scientific work of this kind it is perfectly proper to say, first, that staggered as we are by the fecundity of his loins, much more needs to be said about this unique example of how far humanity may advance in a single bound.
One has only to examine the slow progress of evolution to fully comprehend the dramatic ascension represented by Vince's sudden appearance on the scene—-this instant marvel of creation who, mere days after his birth, rocked the temples of learning with brilliant orations and mathematical calculations beyond the power of computers.
The shameful record shows that unbelieving scholars and philosophers dragged Vince's crib into their temple, and there, smirking and stroking their beards, these Great Men questioned The Babe closely on the Ancient & Royal Sciences of Reason and Logic.
Rapid fire, they barraged him with questions that had baffled the greatest minds for eons. It was a dirty trick. They meant to demolish the boy quickly and send him back to the nursery a squalling brat. "What is the meaning of Life?" they asked him, chuckling away. "Where does the sun go at night?"
But the unanswerable logic that poured from the lips of the young genius could not be denied.
Confounded, knowing that if The Babe was right their work of a lifetime was dust, they thought up even harder questions — What makes water wet? Why is winter so cold? These eternal mysteries, too, Vince polished off with sharp authority.
Advanced Swedish thinkers fell to their knees in adoration. "It's Him!" gasped one of the squareheads, gazing up in wonder at the beatific expression on Vince's innocent face.
But the Brilliant Babe didn't know he was demolishing careers. "I forgive you," he said. "You uneducated louts know not what you do."
"Nonsense!" screamed a fellow whose dark past reeked of Danish blood. "It's some kind of trick!"
Fighting for their professional lives now, overwhelmed by the Niagara of irrefutable knowledge roaring in their heads, the Great Thinkers knew they had only one way out -- they must prove that the tiny boy was a Messenger from the Devil -- was in fact the Devil!
They decided to use tactics which had worked so successfully against two earlier Swedes, Newton and Galileo -- denial and contempt, followed by torture.
"Let's see if he recants on the rack!" cried a dumb little Dane with big ears.
But months of torture merely brightened the flame of defiance in the boy's eyes. In the end, it was his torturers who cracked. Their instruments of torture, blackened and bloody, lay broken on the floor.
Finally, just to get them off his back, Vince tossed them a crumb: he revealed the secret of the golf swing. This sensational news convinced his inquisitors that he was indeed The One. They knew beyond doubt that after centuries of trial and error, after countless human rejects, evolution had culminated in sublime perfection -- Vince was here!
"Aw hell!" grumbled a scrivener. "Now I gotta rewrite all those ancient scrolls."
"Hah!" said a stone mason. "You think you got it rough. I gotta chisel all his sayings in granite!"
NOTE:
The reader must know that the historian's lot is hard. No matter how sensational the subject matter, no matter how the work cries out for elaboration, the historian must stringently restrict himself to a plain presentation of facts without comment or opinion.
In light of this literary confinement, the author may perhaps at the conclusion of this disciplined work be forgiven an editorial indulgence:
After The Coming, many thinkers of great repute tried to salvage their ruined careers by rushing into print great tomes claiming that they always knew the Johnsons could do it and, in fact, had come close to a Vince in centuries past when they squeezed out two earlier Swedes, namely, Einstein and Solomon..
But it was no use. Although they begged for mercy the Great Thinkers could not erase the thousands of lectures in which they had inflicted on innocent students the false theory that evolution was a random process of selection and rejection, and that in a chaotic universe no perfect human being could ever be produced.
What could they say? Vince was here.
Later they found out he was a hell of a golfer too. ##
---------------------------------------
Copyright 2000 Vince Johnson
www.vincejohnson.net
vgjohnson@wizwire.com
By Vince Johnson
I grew up around Palo Alto and Los Altos, Calif. I've always been a writer. In the fifth grade I wrote fairy tales. I always had the queen flying into a rage, and of course I always threw in a couple ogres to leap out at people.
Since I spent my youth developing a keen eye and a steady hand you may be surprised that I did not make my fortune playing nine-ball. But alas, I could not make those thin cuts in the side pocket.
And upon learning of my ability to ride a bike backwards you may also be surprised to find out that I never joined the circus. I tell myself that it may not be too late yet, in case this writing dodge doesn't pan out.
At Paly High I went out for boxing, swimming, football, baseball, rassling. Good in everything, a standout in nothing, that was me. I wrote sports for the school paper.
At Paly High I fell desperately in love with Sue Fontaine and stole her away from Bud Larsen. I am still looking for Sue. Anybody know whatever happened to her? How about Bud?
The kids are all grown, my wife left me, the dog died. That's pretty much it. Except for the following brutally accurate biography (written by a paid hireling):
VINCE'S LIFE AND WHY HE DID IT
The Incredible Story of a Brilliant Scholar Who Against Crushing Odds Survived a Life of Unending Pain, Anguish and Rotten Breaks to achieve international fame as:
The Palo Alto Flash
Wonder Boy
Poet at Large
Invincible Pool Shark
Trick Bike Rider
Dead Shot, All Weapons
Tireless Inventive Stud
Champion Booze Fighter
Long Off the Tee
[Note that this restrained account of his life was ruthlessly checked for accuracy by Vince himself.]
The cool recitation continues:
It would be neither fair nor factual to pass over this wonder boy with a mere catalogue of his glittering accomplishments.
In a scientific work of this kind it is perfectly proper to say, first, that staggered as we are by the fecundity of his loins, much more needs to be said about this unique example of how far humanity may advance in a single bound.
One has only to examine the slow progress of evolution to fully comprehend the dramatic ascension represented by Vince's sudden appearance on the scene—-this instant marvel of creation who, mere days after his birth, rocked the temples of learning with brilliant orations and mathematical calculations beyond the power of computers.
The shameful record shows that unbelieving scholars and philosophers dragged Vince's crib into their temple, and there, smirking and stroking their beards, these Great Men questioned The Babe closely on the Ancient & Royal Sciences of Reason and Logic.
Rapid fire, they barraged him with questions that had baffled the greatest minds for eons. It was a dirty trick. They meant to demolish the boy quickly and send him back to the nursery a squalling brat. "What is the meaning of Life?" they asked him, chuckling away. "Where does the sun go at night?"
But the unanswerable logic that poured from the lips of the young genius could not be denied.
Confounded, knowing that if The Babe was right their work of a lifetime was dust, they thought up even harder questions — What makes water wet? Why is winter so cold? These eternal mysteries, too, Vince polished off with sharp authority.
Advanced Swedish thinkers fell to their knees in adoration. "It's Him!" gasped one of the squareheads, gazing up in wonder at the beatific expression on Vince's innocent face.
But the Brilliant Babe didn't know he was demolishing careers. "I forgive you," he said. "You uneducated louts know not what you do."
"Nonsense!" screamed a fellow whose dark past reeked of Danish blood. "It's some kind of trick!"
Fighting for their professional lives now, overwhelmed by the Niagara of irrefutable knowledge roaring in their heads, the Great Thinkers knew they had only one way out -- they must prove that the tiny boy was a Messenger from the Devil -- was in fact the Devil!
They decided to use tactics which had worked so successfully against two earlier Swedes, Newton and Galileo -- denial and contempt, followed by torture.
"Let's see if he recants on the rack!" cried a dumb little Dane with big ears.
But months of torture merely brightened the flame of defiance in the boy's eyes. In the end, it was his torturers who cracked. Their instruments of torture, blackened and bloody, lay broken on the floor.
Finally, just to get them off his back, Vince tossed them a crumb: he revealed the secret of the golf swing. This sensational news convinced his inquisitors that he was indeed The One. They knew beyond doubt that after centuries of trial and error, after countless human rejects, evolution had culminated in sublime perfection -- Vince was here!
"Aw hell!" grumbled a scrivener. "Now I gotta rewrite all those ancient scrolls."
"Hah!" said a stone mason. "You think you got it rough. I gotta chisel all his sayings in granite!"
NOTE:
The reader must know that the historian's lot is hard. No matter how sensational the subject matter, no matter how the work cries out for elaboration, the historian must stringently restrict himself to a plain presentation of facts without comment or opinion.
In light of this literary confinement, the author may perhaps at the conclusion of this disciplined work be forgiven an editorial indulgence:
After The Coming, many thinkers of great repute tried to salvage their ruined careers by rushing into print great tomes claiming that they always knew the Johnsons could do it and, in fact, had come close to a Vince in centuries past when they squeezed out two earlier Swedes, namely, Einstein and Solomon..
But it was no use. Although they begged for mercy the Great Thinkers could not erase the thousands of lectures in which they had inflicted on innocent students the false theory that evolution was a random process of selection and rejection, and that in a chaotic universe no perfect human being could ever be produced.
What could they say? Vince was here.
Later they found out he was a hell of a golfer too. ##
---------------------------------------
Copyright 2000 Vince Johnson
www.vincejohnson.net
vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Monday, January 03, 2005
VINCE'S JOURNAL
IF I WERE KING
The first thing I'd do is interview some athlete after the game and make him tell the truth --
KING: Boy that was some game, Mike. Almost unbelievable that you scored five touchdowns in the last quarter and put all those opposing linebackers out of commission with your punishing runs up the middle.
ATHLETE: Yeah, it was a superb effort on my part. And don't forget those lightning sweeps around the end. I ruined a lot of people's careers, breaking their legs, smashing their mouths. What a pitiful bunch of wimps! Actually, I could have scored even more points if my teammates hadn't kept trying to hog all the glory by running interference. I could have knocked those opposing dummies down all by myself. I don't need nobody. I am the greatest that ever played the game!
WEATHER
More drizzles today. I'm getting tired of it. The weather guy on TV says the rainfall is 180 percent of normal. It's been a long time since I've heard any talk about a drought, which is usually the main topice of conversation this time of year. The Mountains are full of snow, guaranteeing our water supply for the year. Thank God the gutters are working at least halfass well.
GOLF
My new swing is still working. Been a whole week now since I've tinkered with it. The main thing to remember is not to quit on the shot, but to whip the club through whether I think the club is in the groove or not.
GARDENING
The herb garden now includes the essentials: onions, garlic, rosemary, bayleaves, parsley. The six broccoli plants are doing great after a long period of dormancy while I was in doubt about their ability to produce. But darn it, it looks like each plant will produce only one head.
PETS
Tommy the cat and the pug dog had a long romp today. Pug is a real comedian. Her main interest in life -- after eating -- is to race around the large fenced-in backyard at 90 miles an hour. Not going anywhere, just tearing around. And while Pug does that, Tommy the cat hides behind the big board leaning against the basement window (the one I broke with a golf ball). On each circuit the pug charges at Tommy just for the hell of it. Tommy is quite relaxed about the whole game. All he does is crouch behind the board. On every circuit when Pug comes close, Tommy just sticks out a bored paw and slashes at Pug's nose. No blood yet.
MAC TALK
I've still got my website at vincejohnson.net. It's been kind of neglected while I've been working on this blog. Doesn't matter though. In the two years the website has been up I don't think it's ever had a hit.
MEDICAL DISASTERS
The doc gave me a prescription for a minor ailment. I went to pick it up. $105 bucks! I told 'em to keep it. But you may die a screaming death, cautioned the clerk. I said, well at least I won't die screaming and broke too.
SEXUAL PREFERENCE (I'm in favor of it)
-------------------------
NOW HERE'S THE REAL REASON FOR MY JOURNAL
I PLAN TO GET RICH
It's not a complicated plan.
Just a simple little concept.
THE WHOLE IDEA IS TO GET YOU TO MAKE ME RICH!
GET IT?
See, to make me rich, all you have to do is:
1) Get on PayPal and
2) Email me five or ten bucks --->> vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Simple, isn't it? Yet so incredibly powerful!
And each day I'll report in my journal how much cash I've taken in.
That way you get in on the excitement too!
BTW, if you don't send me any money then at least email your flimsy excuse to: vgjohnson@wizwire.com
If I think your excuse is imaginative, showing deep thought, I may let it slide.
NOW HERE'S HOW MUCH CASH I'VE COLLECTED SO FAR ---->>: $00.00. NADA, ZIP.
What, nothing yet? What is happening?! This is unbelievable! I mean, come on, gang! Puhleeze! How tough can this be?
Now here's YOUR Payoff:
You Get to Read All the Exciting Stuff in My Daily Journal! (while thousands cheer).
Is that a deal or what?
Okay, let's get this thing rolling.
Don't be a slacker.
Vince
IF I WERE KING
The first thing I'd do is interview some athlete after the game and make him tell the truth --
KING: Boy that was some game, Mike. Almost unbelievable that you scored five touchdowns in the last quarter and put all those opposing linebackers out of commission with your punishing runs up the middle.
ATHLETE: Yeah, it was a superb effort on my part. And don't forget those lightning sweeps around the end. I ruined a lot of people's careers, breaking their legs, smashing their mouths. What a pitiful bunch of wimps! Actually, I could have scored even more points if my teammates hadn't kept trying to hog all the glory by running interference. I could have knocked those opposing dummies down all by myself. I don't need nobody. I am the greatest that ever played the game!
WEATHER
More drizzles today. I'm getting tired of it. The weather guy on TV says the rainfall is 180 percent of normal. It's been a long time since I've heard any talk about a drought, which is usually the main topice of conversation this time of year. The Mountains are full of snow, guaranteeing our water supply for the year. Thank God the gutters are working at least halfass well.
GOLF
My new swing is still working. Been a whole week now since I've tinkered with it. The main thing to remember is not to quit on the shot, but to whip the club through whether I think the club is in the groove or not.
GARDENING
The herb garden now includes the essentials: onions, garlic, rosemary, bayleaves, parsley. The six broccoli plants are doing great after a long period of dormancy while I was in doubt about their ability to produce. But darn it, it looks like each plant will produce only one head.
PETS
Tommy the cat and the pug dog had a long romp today. Pug is a real comedian. Her main interest in life -- after eating -- is to race around the large fenced-in backyard at 90 miles an hour. Not going anywhere, just tearing around. And while Pug does that, Tommy the cat hides behind the big board leaning against the basement window (the one I broke with a golf ball). On each circuit the pug charges at Tommy just for the hell of it. Tommy is quite relaxed about the whole game. All he does is crouch behind the board. On every circuit when Pug comes close, Tommy just sticks out a bored paw and slashes at Pug's nose. No blood yet.
MAC TALK
I've still got my website at vincejohnson.net. It's been kind of neglected while I've been working on this blog. Doesn't matter though. In the two years the website has been up I don't think it's ever had a hit.
MEDICAL DISASTERS
The doc gave me a prescription for a minor ailment. I went to pick it up. $105 bucks! I told 'em to keep it. But you may die a screaming death, cautioned the clerk. I said, well at least I won't die screaming and broke too.
SEXUAL PREFERENCE (I'm in favor of it)
-------------------------
NOW HERE'S THE REAL REASON FOR MY JOURNAL
I PLAN TO GET RICH
It's not a complicated plan.
Just a simple little concept.
THE WHOLE IDEA IS TO GET YOU TO MAKE ME RICH!
GET IT?
See, to make me rich, all you have to do is:
1) Get on PayPal and
2) Email me five or ten bucks --->> vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Simple, isn't it? Yet so incredibly powerful!
And each day I'll report in my journal how much cash I've taken in.
That way you get in on the excitement too!
BTW, if you don't send me any money then at least email your flimsy excuse to: vgjohnson@wizwire.com
If I think your excuse is imaginative, showing deep thought, I may let it slide.
NOW HERE'S HOW MUCH CASH I'VE COLLECTED SO FAR ---->>: $00.00. NADA, ZIP.
What, nothing yet? What is happening?! This is unbelievable! I mean, come on, gang! Puhleeze! How tough can this be?
Now here's YOUR Payoff:
You Get to Read All the Exciting Stuff in My Daily Journal! (while thousands cheer).
Is that a deal or what?
Okay, let's get this thing rolling.
Don't be a slacker.
Vince
Saturday, January 01, 2005
VINCE'S JOURNAL
IF I WERE KING
The first thing I'd do is appoint a committee to find out why they won't let white boys in college anymore. Have you seen the football lineup at USC or LSU? All black. And in college basketball there is the same disproportionate assemblage of black to white scholars. Who is keeping us white boys out of college? It's a conspiracy to keep us honkeys stupid,
WEATHER
Raining like hell around here for a week or more. It's a cold rain too. Lots of snow in the mountains. My gutters got so overloaded I had to climb up to make a frontal attack. Not only were the gutters full of leaves, the leaves were packed in frozen ice! Nothing worked. I tried digging the icy slush out of the gutter with a trowel, which worked pretty good but the downspouts were still crammed full of leaves and probably itsy bitsy spiders too. I even tried jamming a hose down the spout with water running full blast. Didn't work because the downspout makes a right angle turn (of course) and I couldn't get the hose through. I finally borked the downspout loose from the gutter and just let the water run down the side of the house. So once again another seemingly insoluable problem caved in when I applied my entire overwhelimg intellect to the problem. I love it when I triumph against the pitiful powers of the physical universe
GOLF
I quit golf again last month. But that was just a ruse to trick the gods. Today I secretly sneaked out in the backyard and hit some pitch shots into the privet bushes. The secret of the golf swing seemed simple today. All I had to do was make a full commitment to the shot and drive the clubhead through. Finally, after 50 years of research it is all so plain. Make your swing. Don't steer the clubhead into the ball. Just let the ball get in the way of our swing. Don't be careful with the shot. Wowee!
GARDENING
Spent a month getting the backyard in shape for spring. It's an area about 100 by 30 feet. Rototilling, breaking up the soil, while mixing in manure, wood chips, top soil. Got some winter crops in the ground: elephant garlic, green onions, yellow onions, broccoli, cauliflower, all that good stuff.
PETS
Tommy the outdoor cat that's been hanging around here for three years is having a hard time in this cold weather. I'm not sure where he sleeps at night but lately he's been afraid to come for his food in the rain. I finally enticed him into the garage which has a little pet entrance. He still fears me and runs away at my approach, yet sits out on the deck and stares in at me by the hour. If I open the door he takes off like a shot. One would think that after three years he would get over the notion that I've spent all this time taking care of him just so that one day when he lets down his guard I will seize him by the scruff and toss him into the sausage grinder!
MAC TALK
More on the Mac tomorrow.
Plus some more stuff about the below subjects.
Bye for now,
Vince
MEDICAL DISASTERS
SEXUAL PREFERENCE (I'm in favor of it)
AND A FEW MORE WISE-OFF REMARKS
-------------------------
NOW HERE'S THE REAL REASON FOR MY JOURNAL
I PLAN TO GET RICH
It's not a complicated plan.
Just a simple little concept.
THE WHOLE IDEA IS TO GET YOU TO MAKE ME RICH!
GET IT?
See, to make me rich, all you have to do is:
1) Get on PayPal and
2) Email me five or ten bucks --->> vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Simple, isn't it? Yet so incredibly powerful!
And each day I'll report in my journal how much cash I've taken in.
That way you get in on the excitement too!
BTW, if you don't send me any money then at least email your flimsy excuse to: vgjohnson@wizwire.com
If I think your excuse is imaginative, showing deep thought, I may let it slide.
NOW HERE'S HOW MUCH CASH I'VE COLLECTED SO FAR ---->>: $00.00.
Nothing yet? What is happening?! Ooh, that's terrible! I mean, come on, gang! Puhleeze! How tough can this be?
Now here's YOUR Payoff:
You Get to Read All the Exciting Stuff in My Daily Journal! (while thousands cheer).
Is that a deal or what?
Okay, let's get this thing rolling.
Don't be a slacker. Send me ten bucks today!
Vince
IF I WERE KING
The first thing I'd do is appoint a committee to find out why they won't let white boys in college anymore. Have you seen the football lineup at USC or LSU? All black. And in college basketball there is the same disproportionate assemblage of black to white scholars. Who is keeping us white boys out of college? It's a conspiracy to keep us honkeys stupid,
WEATHER
Raining like hell around here for a week or more. It's a cold rain too. Lots of snow in the mountains. My gutters got so overloaded I had to climb up to make a frontal attack. Not only were the gutters full of leaves, the leaves were packed in frozen ice! Nothing worked. I tried digging the icy slush out of the gutter with a trowel, which worked pretty good but the downspouts were still crammed full of leaves and probably itsy bitsy spiders too. I even tried jamming a hose down the spout with water running full blast. Didn't work because the downspout makes a right angle turn (of course) and I couldn't get the hose through. I finally borked the downspout loose from the gutter and just let the water run down the side of the house. So once again another seemingly insoluable problem caved in when I applied my entire overwhelimg intellect to the problem. I love it when I triumph against the pitiful powers of the physical universe
GOLF
I quit golf again last month. But that was just a ruse to trick the gods. Today I secretly sneaked out in the backyard and hit some pitch shots into the privet bushes. The secret of the golf swing seemed simple today. All I had to do was make a full commitment to the shot and drive the clubhead through. Finally, after 50 years of research it is all so plain. Make your swing. Don't steer the clubhead into the ball. Just let the ball get in the way of our swing. Don't be careful with the shot. Wowee!
GARDENING
Spent a month getting the backyard in shape for spring. It's an area about 100 by 30 feet. Rototilling, breaking up the soil, while mixing in manure, wood chips, top soil. Got some winter crops in the ground: elephant garlic, green onions, yellow onions, broccoli, cauliflower, all that good stuff.
PETS
Tommy the outdoor cat that's been hanging around here for three years is having a hard time in this cold weather. I'm not sure where he sleeps at night but lately he's been afraid to come for his food in the rain. I finally enticed him into the garage which has a little pet entrance. He still fears me and runs away at my approach, yet sits out on the deck and stares in at me by the hour. If I open the door he takes off like a shot. One would think that after three years he would get over the notion that I've spent all this time taking care of him just so that one day when he lets down his guard I will seize him by the scruff and toss him into the sausage grinder!
MAC TALK
More on the Mac tomorrow.
Plus some more stuff about the below subjects.
Bye for now,
Vince
MEDICAL DISASTERS
SEXUAL PREFERENCE (I'm in favor of it)
AND A FEW MORE WISE-OFF REMARKS
-------------------------
NOW HERE'S THE REAL REASON FOR MY JOURNAL
I PLAN TO GET RICH
It's not a complicated plan.
Just a simple little concept.
THE WHOLE IDEA IS TO GET YOU TO MAKE ME RICH!
GET IT?
See, to make me rich, all you have to do is:
1) Get on PayPal and
2) Email me five or ten bucks --->> vgjohnson@wizwire.com
Simple, isn't it? Yet so incredibly powerful!
And each day I'll report in my journal how much cash I've taken in.
That way you get in on the excitement too!
BTW, if you don't send me any money then at least email your flimsy excuse to: vgjohnson@wizwire.com
If I think your excuse is imaginative, showing deep thought, I may let it slide.
NOW HERE'S HOW MUCH CASH I'VE COLLECTED SO FAR ---->>: $00.00.
Nothing yet? What is happening?! Ooh, that's terrible! I mean, come on, gang! Puhleeze! How tough can this be?
Now here's YOUR Payoff:
You Get to Read All the Exciting Stuff in My Daily Journal! (while thousands cheer).
Is that a deal or what?
Okay, let's get this thing rolling.
Don't be a slacker. Send me ten bucks today!
Vince
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