Category: Funny Business

Remember Jim Bakker?

He’s the con man (aka TV evangelist) who used to run the PTL Club, which was funded in large part by gullible people who felt the need to send Jim their money so he could spread whatever people like him spread.

There was a sex scandal (isn’t there always?) that knocked him off his perch, and ultimately he went to prison for embezzlement. Seems his luxury hotel and theme park in Charlotte – Heritage USA – was simply a way for Jim to help Jim, so he bilked cult members (I’m sorry … I meant followers) out of a whole lot of Benjamins.

Anyway, he was indicted in 1988 on eight counts of mail fraud, 15 counts of wire fraud and one count of conspiracy, and convicted of them all. Bakker was sentenced to 45 years in prison but wound up serving only five.

And you know what that means.

He’s back!

Yep, much like major league baseball managers who get fired and then re-hired, TV evangelists never truly go away until they croak.

And now ol’ Jim is once again broadcasting “live from the Ozark Mountains.” This time, though, his shtick is doomsday prophecy.

At PTL he was a prosperity gospel pioneer. And darn it, he was almost elfin –­ talking really, really nice to his TV audience in hopes they’d sacrifice buying food for their child that week in order to send the Lord some cash. But since the Lord has no checking account, Jim was glad to handle His finances.

These days, though, it’s all doom and gloom, and his guests include an all-star lineup of the nuckin’ futz. It’s like what would happen if Alex Jones ran a church.

The bottom line message is that the end times are at hand, and soon the world will be engulfed in flames while giant CGI creatures turn earth into an unimaginable hellscape. Jim is now bearded and fully gray, so when he bears the horrible news, he looks serious doing so.

But hey, you still gotta eat, right?

And Jim’s still gotta have your money.

So before it’s all consumed by demons and monsters, you need to stock up on supplies.

And, oh, what wonderful supplies Jim has for you!

The best are his Emergency Food Buckets, which are guaranteed to have a shelf life of 25 years.

One deliciously good deal is the $175 deluxe bucket that features a total of 374 servings of “savory, tasty food.”

So, while the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Death, Famine, War and Conquest) battle it out with the Four Horsemen of Notre Dame (Harry Stuhldreher, Don Miller, Jim Crowley, and Elmer Layden), you’ll be eating like kings and queens.

This is assuming, of course, that kings and queens enjoy shit you have to rehydrate to eat, but who knows? Maybe they do.

(Perhaps we had it all wrong and what Marie Antoinette actually said was, “Let them eat MREs.”)

There’s also a 30-day “Fiesta Bucket” for the low, end-of-days price of $100.

This is for those of us who want to spend our last days enjoying Mexican food. And let’s be honest – when that giant sea  creature comes on the land and starts wreaking havoc, there ain’t gonna be no Taco Bells open.

But really, these are all just quick fixes that won’t be nearly enough to see you through the tribulation.

Nope.

If you’re in the end times for the long haul, I suggest you go with the $3,700 “Time of Trouble Tasty Pantry Deluxe” plan.

This features 10,472 servings (that’s seven years of food, according to Brother Jim) and it’s a $10,995 value.

But wait!

There’s more!

If you act now, you’ll also receive the “Birthday Gift To Baby Jesus Shocking Prophecies” DVD as well as 12 Christmas ornaments.

So while you’re eating powdered eggs and a substance that has a faint bacon taste, you can scare the crap out of the kiddies by watching sin porn – and decorating the tree.

By the way, the 12 free ornaments are “randomly chosen” so there’s no way of knowing what you’ll wind up with. But for nearly four grand, there by God better be an angel tree topper in there somewhere.

Now in fairness to Jim, he wants to do more than just feed you.

His store also features fuel, generators, tools, medical supplies – pretty much everything you’ll need to fight off the hounds of hell. And you can do it on a full stomach thanks to these mighty fine food buckets.

However, you need to act fast.

Jim is pretty sure the world is going to end in his lifetime.

And I’m pretty sure he needs you to help pay for his new swimming pool before it does.

Science, the practice that has helped the smarter ones among us accept that the earth is round and a tomato is a fruit, is at it again.

This time, scientists are studying the age-old question of which species is smarter – cats or dogs.

And according to researchers at Vanderbilt University, dogs win.

You see, the number of neurons in the brain is associated with higher intelligence, and apparently pooches have far more than pusses.

“I believe the absolute number of neurons an animal has, especially in the cerebral cortex, determines the richness of their internal mental state and their ability to predict what is about to happen in their environment based on past experience,” neuroscientist Suzana Herculano-Houzel told ScienceAlert magazine.

While we once thought cats had the clear edge here, this study showed that dogs have 530 million cortical neurons to 250 million for cats. And I’m not about to argue with anyone wearing a lab coat.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have never given this much thought because, frankly, I never cared.
I spent many years of my life as a “dog person” and mainly dealt with cats on a supervised visitation basis only. However, cats have been a major part of my world the past 10 years, so now I’m also a “cat person.”

In fact, while the cast of characters has changed much over the years due to various Rainbow Bridge crossings (and don’t ask me to read the Rainbow Bridge poem because I’ll just start to cry, dammit), my wife and I are currently parents to one dog and two shelter cats.

The dog is Charlie, a 9-year old Shetland sheepdog; the ginger cat is Thor: God of Thunder, age 3; and our gray and white long-haired tabby is Bane: Breaker of the Bat. He’s just 6 months old.

Cats and dogs cannot talk, obviously, so I couldn’t ask them a series of questions to determine their intelligence. So I had to sit them at a table with pen and paper and get them to write down what was important to them.

Here are the results:

 

CHARLIE

Food in morning good.

Food in afternoon good.

Food at night good.

Olive that fall on floor good.

Dessert in sandy box for cats good.

Treats is good.

Butt of Baby Cat good.

Belly rub that makes leg move fast is good.

Man and Wo-Man that kisses top of head good.

 

THOR

Let’s see … where do I begin?

I sleep approximately 20 hours a day, utilizing various locales throughout the facility provided by Wo-Man and Man.

I do enjoy a good book, and am currently reading a biography of Nikola Tesla, best known for his contributions to the design of the modern alternating current electricity supply system. A truly interesting Man who I understand possessed a magnificent singing voice.

The sustenance is adequate as a cylinder situated on a high, flat surface is most often filled with crunchable food stuffs. On occasion a softer, more flavorful meal is provided, but I’ve yet to determine what actions on my part initiate this activity.

Dog is harmless and mildly amusing, while Baby Cat is a weird little bastard.

 

BANE

Oh, you think darkness is your ally. But you merely adopted the dark; I was born in it, molded by it. I didn’t see the light until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but blinding. The shadows betray you, because they belong to me. I will show you where I have made my home while preparing to bring justice. Then I will break you.

Ah. I’m just funnin’ with you. That’s from The Dark Knight Rises, which is a DVD Man plays a lot so I’ve had a chance to memorize a bunch of lines. I’ll sit on his lap while he watches, and occasionally he’ll give me skitches on the chin and kisses on the head.

Life is pretty chill here … plenty of eats.

Dog and I get along well. We play a lot and he licks my ears and butt. Not sure how I feel about the latter yet.

I love messing with Older Cat. He used to beat me up when I was little, but a couple of weeks ago I went Medieval on his ass and he’s a little scared of me now.

Wo-Man is cool. She combs me a lot and, like Man, kisses me on the head.

That sums it up. If you have any more questions shoot me a text and I’ll get back with you.

 

After reading these responses one would be inclined to believe that perhaps the research is wrong – cats do seem to be smarter than dogs.

As far as I’m concerned, though, all the science isn’t in yet.

After all, Charlie won a combined $367 from Thor and Bane playing poker last Friday.

I’m sure you know by now that England’s Prince Harry and California’s Meghan Markle are set to have a royal wedding in May.

What you may not know is that I don’t give a rat’s ass.

While that attitude makes me sound like a proper wanker, please know it’s nothing personal at all. From everything I’ve heard about Harry, he’s a good dude. And even though I’m not overly familiar with Ms. Markle’s work as an actor, she’s a committed humanitarian, and we’d all do well to undertake more humanitarian efforts – especially in today’s world.

They seem like lovely people and hopefully they’ll have a long and happy life together. I sincerely wish them the best, just as I wish all decent humans the best in all their decent endeavors.

Still, there’s the rat’s-ass factor.

Any time a “royal wedding” is announced hundreds of thousands of Americans get all excited, as though it’s relevant to their lives and they’re going to be invited to the event.

Guess what?

It’s not and you won’t, despite the fact that the bride is American (at least until she becomes the Duchess of Sussex).

The couple nuptials will get knotted at Windsor Castle in the 15^th century St. George’s Chapel.

This is not like driving to Gatlinburg and having some rent-a-rev perform your ceremony at a tiny house chapel in front of a bunch of hung-over friends.

Nope, this is a major deal, with so much pomp and circumstance that extra pomp and circumstance will have to be shipped in just to ensure there is enough to go around.

Windsor Castle, by the way, is one of Queen Elizabeth’s residences, which means it probably has a kitchenette and big screen TV. That makes the locale even swankier.

In the United States, it’s tradition for the bride’s side of the family to pay for the wedding (or in the deep south, pay at least one month’s rent on the trailer.) In the case of this royal affair, Ms. Markle’s folks can rest easy because Harry’s people will foot the bill.

And they should.

Queen Elizabeth cleared $54.6 million in 2016, but a huge cost-of-ruling increase in 2017 upped her salary to $97.2 million.

That’s some righteous coin, especially since all she has to do is wave at peasants and occasionally hit somebody on the shoulder with a sword while dubbing them “Sir”.

And obviously, that kind of money means the rehearsal dinner will consist of more than just chicken wings and tater tots.

There will be fish and goose and veal and shrimp and duck and unicorn (along with chicken wings and tater tots, because they’re classics.)

And it’ll be held at a really nice place. I’m not sure they’ve decided on a restaurant yet, but if there’s a Cracker Barrel within walking distance of Windsor Castle, that’s where I’d have it. That way the royal kids could play checkers by the fire.

And my god, can you imagine the cost of Ms. Markle’s wedding dress?

Trust me, they don’t make ‘em like that at Dress Barn. Even as we speak, thousands of genetically enhanced silkworms are busy building it.

And of course, the event will be televised to a gazillion people around the world and millions of Americans will get up in the middle of the night to watch like it’s the World Cup or something.

And they’ll keep watching as the party shifts to Buckingham Palace, where an international Who’s Who of the rich and famous will gather for heavy hors d’oeuvres and karaoke.

I think I remember reading that at William and Kate’s wedding reception, Prince Philip brought down the house with his rendition of “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy.”

Still, I don’t understand the obsession.

For a nation that put so much time and effort breaking away from England and vowing to never again bow to any man or woman, we sure spend an inordinate amount of time getting all worked up when a prince or princess decides to get hitched.

But, whatever.

If that’s what tickles your nether regions, then go ahead and swoon over the Duchess of Sussex and Duke of Hazzard.

As for me, I’ll take a hard pass.

And cheerfully not give a rat’s ass.