My Package Qualifications

Freedom! Mom's visiting relatives in West Virginia, where we all know there's no Internet, and Dad says he's on a "business trip", but without havin' the goods on him, I'll have to take his word for it. So, after long deliberation, checking local statutes, and making sure their homeowner's policy was up  to date, they decided to leave me home by myself. I had to agree to call Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Florence (Eb and Flo, as I calls 'em) if I needed anything, but right now everything's as fine as frog's hair.

Freedom! Vienna Sausages for breakfast, Popsicles for lunch, Fruit Loops for dinner! But who can remember to eat when I have 24-hour Internet access, without Mom looking over my shoulder and monitoring my every online movement?

So I set up this double-secret e-mail address, and for some reason, I start getting these peculiar e-mails: Croatian pharmacies offer to make me tumescent, Ugandan princes want to go halvsies on their birthright fortunes, and girls with names like Anne Arkey and Heather Heath wanna meet me.

Then I get this e-mail asking about my "package qualifications". At first I'm intrigued, thinking it's from my recent Internet friend Angie O'Plasty, whose conversations have become rather intimate, what with her asking about my age, my mom's secret emergency bank account and my dad's social security number. Turns out this e-mail is some guy wanting me to enroll in classes, with an available grant amount of $5,743.00. All I had to do was fill out the application.

How dumb does he think I am? Why would I want to go to more classes than I already am? And why would I take his stupid grant money when Angie already promised me free money after I gave her my dad's social security number?

My dad sure isn't very good at hiding things. His card was in his dresser drawer, under his medicated foot powder.

Now I have to call Eb and Flo. I'm almost out of Popsicles.

 

 

Angie sent me her pic. She looks like a nice girl.

 

Just Askin' 2

If Stephen is pronounced Steven, why isn't Stephanie pronounced Stevenie?

I Crack Me Up 2

I like movies about mountain climbing. They peak my interest.

Just Sayin'

The promos on huluPLUS for The Awesomes say, "Seth Meyers, like you've never seen him before."

You mean, funny?

Raft Sinks Background to Danger. Ha Ha.

Sometimes Dad has no sense of humor. I ate his entire beloved box of Cap'n Crunch just so I could say when he asked why I did it, "I guess I'm just a cereal killer." He responds with, "Just for that, Mr. Wisenheimer," (uh-oh. When he calls me that, I know I'm in for it) "it's another George Raft movie for you."

Well, this one is called Background to Danger (whatever that means), a wartime (World War II, for those of you who ain't historians) spy thriller with a good cast, despite the presence of George Raft.

Turkey's a neutral country, ya see, but Germany's trying to get Turkey involved in the war, and the Germans being no-good, backstabbing, stinky Nazis, are not necessarily committed to playing this one on the square. There's some bogus war installation photos circulating, and it's George Raft's job, as a super-cool American agent, to prevent these pics from being published in the newspapers (yes, this movie was made way back when there were newspapers), and forcing the Turks entering the war as Nazi allies. Or some such foolishness.

I read somewhere on the Internets (where everything is true), that George Raft insisted his character be changed from an ordinary Joe to a secret agent. Bad move, because his being an ordinary citizen would have increased the suspense and intrigue (his background to danger, so to speak), and would have fairly explained his many bone-headed blunders. But as a secret agent, he'd make a pretty good falafel salesman. He's always getting konked from behind on the noggin by the bad guys, who are very adept at getting the drop on him, except when he's running away like a little girl. Ha! Some two-fisted he-man. Would John Payne or Dennis O'Keefe, geniune hard-guys, just to name two, run away from the Nazis like scared babies? I think not.

Like I said, despite George Raft, who delivers his lines as flat as a Kansas highway, there's plenty to like: Sydney Greenstreet makes a good heavy (ha ha. I bet I'm the first to ever say that), Peter Lorre is very funny, and the movie moves along at a very brisk pace, what with all the running, and gun pulling, and car chasing, and whatnot. But watching George Raft is torturous.

So after it's over, Dad asks me what I thought of the movie. I just shrug my shoulders, not wanting him to know that he won this round.  "Good, Mr. Wisenheimer. Because there's another movie we're gonna watch called A Dangerous Profession. With George Raft. Looks like a pretty good picture."

Alright, Dad, I promise. I'll never eat your Cap'n Crunch again.

Take that for not bein' on the level, you dirty Nazi!