Stupid Caveman

A Special Place in Hell

There must be a special place in hell for the greed-mongers who prey upon the poor by pretending to be "evangelists" on television.

The characters I have in mind are the ones who promise that God will cause vast numbers of checks, money orders and Federal Reserve notes to begin coming your way if only you will "plant a seed" in their ministry. I called one of these hucksters one night and asked if I could "plant a seed" by paying an elderly couple's natural gas bill for the month.

The operator hesitated. She was clearly at a loss for words. Finally, she recovered and said I really needed to send the donation to her employer's TV "ministry" to receive the Lord's blessing.

I asked her just what her employer did with the money that was sent to his "ministry."

"Why, we buy time on more TV stations to spread the gospel," she said.

"Do you help poor people pay their utility bills?" I asked. "Or help elderly people pay for their prescription drugs?"

"We spread the gospel," she said.

You know, I've watched this particular "ministry" a number of times to see if they really do spread the gospel and I've never once heard the "evangelist" quote Matthew, Luke, Mark or John. Each time I watched he spent the entire hour telling people to send as much money as they possibly could to his "ministry."

One week he had a guest "evangelist." This woman said, "So what if you only have $50 left to your name! Send it in!"

Another time I saw a rather portly character who called himself a "prophet." He proudly told a story about a man who expressed doubt about his credentials as a "prophet."

"I asked the doubting Thomas a question," the modern-day P.T. Barnum went on. "I said, If you're so smart, why is it that I own my own executive jet and you drive a ten year-old car?"

Yes, the "prophet" owns his own executive jet. Do you suppose the commercial carriers don't have seats wide enough to accomodate his grossly over-sized posterior?

I'm glad he told that story. Now we know what he does with the money all those widows and poor people send to him.

Is this a good essay? No. Am I capable of writing a good essay? No.

I once had a boss who had a really annoying habit. Each and every time you would ask him a question, he would respond by asking a series of his own questions and then answering them. Here's an example.

One day I asked him how business was going.

"Are we selling more books?" he replied. "The answer is no. Would we sell more books if we had better books to sell? Maybe. Could we publish better books? Yes. Do I think we'll start publishing better books anytime soon? No. Do I think our editors know the difference between a good book and a bad book? No. Do I think the conglomerate that owns our publishing company knows the difference between a good book and a bad book? No. Do I think we'll all be fired if we don't start selling more books? Yes."

I haven't heard a word from this former boss since we were all fired for not selling more books. But I have noticed that his ridiculous habit of answering a simple question with a series of questions and answers has become an epidemic.

This morning a reporter on one of our local TV stations was talking about the city's attempt to remove pan handlers from the busiest parts of the city. The mayor didn't want to talk about it so he sent a low-level bureaucrat out to talk to the reporter.

"Do we still have panhandlers? Yes. Will we still have panhandlers after the mayor's plan goes into effect? Yes. Do I wish we had fewer panhandlers? Yes. Does the mayor wish we had fewer panhandlers? Yes. Are we trying to be mean to the panhandlers? No. Do we wish the panhandlers could find help so they wouldn't have to panhandle? Yes."

I don't know who invented this asinine form of communication but I wish they would stop. Would I like to take a tip from the late Moe Howard and give them a whack on the head with a ball peen hammer? Yes. Would I go to prison for giving them a whack on the head with a ball peen hammer? Probably. Is it time to end this essay. Definitely.
When to fertilize your lawn
One of our local TV weathermen actually believes he can predict the weather, for any neighborhood, within 15 minutes. It's true.

He read a letter from a viewer who said the directions on a bag of lawn fertilizer instructed him to apply the fertilizer just before a good rainfall.

"How will I know when to apply the fertilizer?" asked the viewer.

"Not to worry," replied our fearless weatherman.

"Just watch NoisyNews9. With our Super Duper Golly Gee Whiz Double Dippy Dual Doppleganger Radar, we can predict rain in your neighborhood within 15 minutes. So, if we tell you it's going to rain in your neighborhood at 7:13 pm, just go out and apply your fertilizer at 6:58 pm and you'll be all set."

Uh huh. And my grandmother was president of Mars.
Bring in the dogs?
Our local TV weatherman was telling us about the swell weather we had coming at us in the next few days. Snow, freezing rain and temperatures dropping to zero or below. He ended his nightly chat-fest by telling us to "bring in the dogs" or "put a warm blanket in his doghouse."

Put a warm blanket in his doghouse? I'd like to lock that weatherman in a doghouse and toss him a blanket.

Harry Truman once said, "If you want a friend in this town, get a dog." Those words are true not only in Washington but in any location on earth. Dogs have been providing humans with companionship and unconditional love for at least a million years and - in my opinion - people have been getting the best part of the deal.

To me, few things are sadder - or more contemptible - than a dog chained to a dog house.

Here's the Stupid Caveman's Rule #1 for dog ownership: If you're going to adopt a dog, make it a member of your family. Like all members of your family, the dog should live in the house. And, like all members of your family, the dog should be provided with fresh, nutritious food, medical attention, love and companionship.

Anyone not willing to provide a dog - or cat - with those basic necessities of life has no business adopting one.

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