Captivity - Day 58 Frank - here's your house back

I'm not stupid, but I can do a reasonably good impression, but there are 2 things for which I have to call in the Marines (better known as Mrs lefty). The first is cereal. As a kid, none of us had a problem getting the boxes open, even to the point of taking the treat out before our siblings got it.  We never failed (except for the only children, who got everything they wanted all the time anyway).

The long and short of it is that I open the box - no problem - I open the plastic - no problem - and I pour in in the bowel - problem. If my quantum physics class
finds about this, I'll be the laughingstock of Bob's Basement School of Quantum Physics, plus they won't let me wear the propeller hat for 2 weeks.

Determined to find the solution, I apply brains (hopefully not my own) to the problem. I get either nothing or everything. I tried a very long, very sharp knife, which succeeded in opening the plastic enclosure all the way across. Nothing. I tried pouring with shaking. No luck. I tried jumping up and down. Only a warning from Mrs lefty. Using what was left of my gray matter I finally figured it out: the cereal companies found out they could save $0.004 per box by not gluing the plastic to it. Unless I have the terminal mesh and talc causes cancer lawyers, I will never get the plastic glued to the box.

I know you're bored. Most of the world is bored.
Even the aliens are bored. The secret is that they know what we're up to and the loser had to keep an eye on us before we blow up the neighborhood. We're a danger to most universes.

One thing you can do when your bored is watch the commercial for My Pillow and try to imitate his very silly Minnesota accent.

In addition to my Very Large Problem with getting cereal out of the box, there is one that's even larger, because everybody can see it: putting bags into bags. Although it's possible I was bitten by a bag when I was little, the doctors don't think so. Mrs lefty gives me a small bag and instructs me to put it in the larger trash bag. This is where things start to get ugly. If there are guests, I start to sweat. I hear the voices of my ancestors, laughing and pointing, saying what a dumkopf he is, look at him!. In spite of this positive reinforcement, I put on my Brave Face and have a go at it. Naturally I fail, which is when the laughter starts. I try again: the end of one bag won't go inside the end of the other bag, even though it's 4x as large. Even Mrs lefty laughs at me, while taking the bag back and easily putting it in the larger bag, while I watch, as if it were magic.

The doctors are not concerned about the dream where I wake up with no clothes, addressing Congress.... this is the one they want to discuss...



There's a tv show featuring collectors, with different collections. Today's is a Star Wars collection. The pretty lady next to the collector is not his SO - it's his mom. Mom has bought him all sorts of collector's pieces. He even has a eral-life Spock figure. Little Stanley obviously needs a job. Mom needs to get little Stanley a hooker. Can you say enabler? Little Stanley probably can. He has a billboard. A billboard.


I was out of my mind (further) because Dairy Queen closed early. All I wanted was a malt. Judging by the 32 person socially-distanced line, I wasn't the only one.