Space Shuttle Enterprise Found on Blocks

By: Larry Hyatt

NEW YORK, NY- “Enterprise” the space shuttle that is to become a museum exhibit was discovered on concrete blocks this morning outside its resting place in New York City, stripped like a automobile, presumably by teens caught up in the excitement of having a piece of Americana. Gone were the wheels, seventy-five percent of the heat panels, and most of the experiments. One teen, who wishes to remain anonymous said, “You think it wooed the crowd when it flew over the city, you should have heard ‘em when we stripped that Mo-Fo in fifteen minutes. It was a work of art, man…so was the shuttle…that sucka was big.”

Kareem Ali-Ja-Wawa, the man placed in charge of watching the spacecraft said,

“I only turned my attention away for a second. I got hungry. Even in prison we got lunch.”

NASA officials have stated that they will rebuild Enterprise with parts from the shuttle Discovery and the larger pieces recovered at the scene. One NYPD spokesman said they are in control, “We are on top of it. That stolen nuclear experiment that explores Black Holes, we found that in a Starbucks.”

OBAMA TO TAP BAPTIST FOR SECRET SERVICE

By Larry Hyatt

WASHINGTON. With the President’s Secret Service now having stricter guidelines amidst the Cartagena incident, President Obama’s team has wrapped its arms around the Hooker-Gate scandal and will now use Baptist to fill the holes left by resigning Secrets Service members.

President Obama, in his enthusiasm was quoted as saying, “We need men to fill openings who won’t try to fill an opening, men in positions who are not prone to get in positions, men who get their groove on without getting a groove on. You know what I mean? ”

Aguilera “Boom Boom” Martini, spokesperson for the Cartagena council, welcomes the new regulations. “People don’t realize how hard it gets, working with government officials. Hopefully, now, I won’t have to pretend I’m not dancing.”

The Obama administration does expect only a few to apply and one unnamed official stated, “When given a chance to serve our country, our fellow men and women, and the world population as a whole, its change we can believe in.”

Say it isn't so

It’s Sunday, 11:30am and I’m compelled to make a confession. I never watch Reality TV so if you tell anyone- I kill you. I will go to your house and beat you senseless, cut off your head then kill you. I’m going to be bold, like wearing white after Labor Day or wearing socks with sandals, declaring only to followers because I think you know the true me.
I watch “Say Yes to the Dress.”
It hooked me from the first credits. The beauty of that special day along with romance and fashion, yet reeking of family conflict, shaken not stirred, friends, in-laws, loved and hated, combined with a huge monetary component, often someone else’s money, for something some of the brides have yearned years, even decades to have, some spiteful, willing to sell out a friend in a heartbeat in the name of love makes me want to grab a beer and kick back in my Lazy-Boy. Throw in the editing and production staff that are willing to manipulate people’s emotions for their own gain and it is reality television at its best.
I await, ready to answer out loud for the bride when they’re asked the big question, as if asked to marry all over again, “So, tell me, what will it be? Are you saying yes to the dress?” “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
 OMG, I got to go. It’s coming on again. It’s an episode with a drag queen bridesmaid.
I may never watch the NFL Pre-game again.

You Never Know

The sun was peaking over the line of trees and behind her left shoulder. We were in a restaurant, a morning first date, after the sex, discussing the neighbors’ kid’s playhouse. The place wasn’t much, a Waffle House. The sex and the playhouse- cool, very cool.
We were laughing about how the hell our drunken selves could get to the second floor of something out of Sesame Street. It didn’t have stairs. We had to climb up a ladder through a hole in the floor. I remember her saying something about firemen. I remember thinking, “This woman is going to get hosed.”
“So Jaycee, what do you like to do? What are you into?” I asked.
“I mostly go to work and raise my kids. It keeps me pretty busy, how about you?”
“Hmmm, let’s see, what am I into?” I contemplated. “I like current events. I do like to know what’s going on around me. I’m fairly political.”
“Oh, I never watch news.”
“Well, I also like history. If walls could talk I say. I like to imagine living in the past and seeing antiques and wonder who used them, or try to figure out how this world got to this point.”
“Good Lord, History was my worst subject in school. I hated it. I never could see having to know all that stuff.”
“I’m a Star Wars person. Not a freak about it but it did get me to start sitting in the front at the movie theatre. I thought it was cool to watch those space ships travel all the way across the screen and explode really big, right in front of me.”
“Science Fiction, no, that’s not my thing either.”
I thought, good God, this woman doesn’t care about the past, the present or the future. So, I married her.

What not to wear.

I’m perplexed.

I’ve been lucky enough to lose a bunch of weight and now I have clothes that don’t fit and would like to give to friends. The clothes are nice, clothes that cost, but my dilemma? How do I give fat clothes without letting my friend know he's a fat guy?

They’re sitting on the passenger side of my car, reminding me to not eat.

Time waits for no one.

If you’re reading this I’m already there.

It’s Sunday morning, 2am, day light savings time began and I set my clock forward 24 hours. I know it was foolish trying to malign time quantization but I felt that if I could capture and extend just a miniscule unit of life, stretch it into Monday, bypassing the Sabbath, I wouldn’t have to help my wife clean the house. I want to go fishing. I want to go fishing. I want to go fishing.

Bless me father for I have sinned.

My friend, wish me luck for with Gods speed I will return with a glorious bounty from the sea, but if not I’m sure I’ll receive a serious ass whippin’ and buy a ten pound special on crawfish.

Weird Men Walking

Isn’t it a bummer when you’re talking to someone and while they’re looking in your eyes, they suddenly make a strange face and drop dead? Don’t you hate when that happens?
I had a friend, Mr. Fred, an older guy I met while in the musical South Pacific. I played Billis, the coconut bra wearing schemer who gets people things and Fred had a small role as a Naval Officer. We had a scene together and I learned he was a really cool guy and ended up meeting Fred Jr. through doing business with the radio station.
Years later Fred had a heart attack. It rattled him mentally as well, and he started “race walking” to get back into shape, rewind his ticker, and in time really could rock around the clock. He then got me involved and we both did that race walking thing. We had our waddle on, hips shaking from side to side, arms moving back and forth, two weird men walking, and one behind the other. For inspiration I channeled John Wayne.
I got fast, could beat most, and looked like a boneless chicken. It would embarrass my wife when she saw me race and I could never beat 80 year old Fred but I trained, early in the morning darkness when radio listeners couldn’t recognize me. I looked like the Village Idiot but I liked winning the medals. Fred made me a contender.
Well, a colleague from the radio station was running at the track one evening and saw Fred walking, doing his thing, in his groove, and then come to a stop before he hit the first mile marker. When my radio mate jogged to him he said hello and mentioned that he knew me.
“Yea,” Fred said, “I know Larry? How’s he doing? I haven’t seen him out here lately.”
“Oh, he’s doing good. We spoke about you at lunch today and he told me he’d see you at the 5K Run for Excellence.”
“Yea, that’s the next big race…He knows my son, too… I’ve known Larry for years. We did a play together over at the theater, tell Larry…” Fred then grabbed his chest and down he went.
My friend immediately dialed 911 but the people who gathered couldn’t revive him. He died that evening, our group of walkers quite shocked. At the 5k Run for Excellence, BRASS, the Bayou Runners Association displayed a picture of Fred over our heads and as over a thousand people crossed that finish line he looked down on us all.
Fred didn’t collapse in front of me but it was I who he was thinking about when his heart gave out. Everyone dies, but while doing it, I’ve never heard of anyone thinking of me.
Should I hate when that happens?