The Forty Pound Pepperpot

I've nothing against Australia. I just thought this was funny.
Our critters are no laughing matter either.

The Forty Pound Pepperpot

by

Jay Agan


So there I am, as a cashier at a cut rate Wal-Mart wannabe chain store when I hear someone engaged in conversation using an interesting accent. I look down the line & I can't believe what I'm seeing ... A pepperpot! A real live pepperpot!

For those who've never followed Monty Pythons' Flying Circus, an explanation is in order. The Pepperpots, as the Pythons called them, are a stereotype they lampooned a lot: Late middle age to older ladies. Earthy, frumpy, LOUD with " 'eavy cawkney awccents". Never met one before.

Her turn to be checked out, I used my tried 'n true icebreaker I always use on people from "exotic" lands.

"I can tell by your accent, your'e not from around here. Are you from New Jersey?"

"Oh no dearie! Ahm from Arstrawlia!"

"Not meaning to be disrespectful or anything, but I thought you might be from England."

"Oh aye moved from 'ere to Arstrawlia back 'n 48."

"Oh," I said. "You're a forty pound pom ..."

"OOOO!," she exclaimed turning to her husband. " 'Y heah that Carl? 'E knows about the forty pound Poms 'e does!"

Carl, bless his soul, looked like he wanted to be somewhere else.

Another explanation:

After the Second World War, the UK (Up the Queen!) decided to embrace socialism & all the agonies that go with it. Topped with a post-war industrial downturn & a lot of displaced people from all over Europe, the employment situation was rather dire.

The situation in Australia however, was quite the opposite. Industry, commerce & ranching were begging for people.

In typical fashion, Great Britain (Up the Queen!) used the old tried 'n true method of getting rid of "undesireables" wether Welsh, Scotts, IRISH(!), English, & otherwise ... SHIP 'EM OFF TO THE COLONIES!

The government made an offer: As a one way passage to "down under" cost forty pounds, the Crown (Up the Queen!) would pay half. Over a million people took up the offer.

Lasting from the late '40s to mid '50s, this was the last great white migration in history. It's also why many of todays' Australians have German & Slavic surnames.

Pommie is a derogatory Australian term reserved for English folks. Thus the newcomers taking the forty pound one way to the island continent were referred to as "forty pound poms".

Oh yes! Back to my story.

When asked what they were doing here in the states, the lady replied:

"We're 'ere 't see our daughter. She married a Yank!"


Story copyright © 7-29-13 Jay Agan

A Little Bigotry here.

Go to Jays' Tee Vee blog main page here.

Silence of the Spams: A Very Short Commonsense Psycho Thriller

"Have the spams stopped screaming Clarice?"

Silence of the Spams: A Very Short Commonsense Psycho Thriller

by

Jay Agan


"Hello ... My name is Hannibal Lester," the brilliant clinical psychiatrist, world reknowned scholar, published author, with an IQ that would dwarf any ten, nay, eleven of us said as he introduced himself. "I'm a brilliant clinical psychiatrist, world reknowned scholar, published author, and I have an IQ that would dwarf any ten, nay, twelve of you ... And I am going to eat you."

"Uh ... No you're not."

"And why is that?" The smug, now homicidal, brilliant clinical psychiatrist, world reknowned scholar, published author having an IQ that would dwarf any ten, nay, thirteen of us smiled in a smug brilliant clinical psychiatrist, world reknowned scholar, published author having an IQ that would dwarf any ten, nay, forteen of us sort of way.

Bang!

"Oh!" Said the now not so smug brilliant clinical psychiatrist, world reknowned scholar, published author having an IQ that would dwarf any ten, nay, fifteen of us.

The now dead brilliant clinical psychiatrist, world reknowned scholar, published author having an IQ that would dwarf any ten, nay, sixteen of us dropped to the floor in a brilliant clinical psychiatrist, world reknowned scholar, published author having an IQ that would dwarf any ten, nay, seventeen of us sort of way.

CASE CLOSED

Story copyright © 7-23-13 Jay Agan


Condo Dracula: Another Very Short But Commonsense Horror Story here.

The Haunting of Heck House: A Very Short But Commonsense Horror Story here.

Go to Jays Tee Vee blog main page here.

An Encounter at Gamers: A Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya/Lucky Star Crossover Fan Fiction

Which one is a figment of the others' imagination?

An Encounter at Gamers

A Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya/Lucky Star Crossover Fan Fiction

by

C V Ford


There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space & timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light & shadow, between science & superstition, & it lies between the pit of mans' fears & the summit of his knowlege. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call ... The Twilight Zone.

-----------------------------------------------------

Submitted for your approval ... A pair of young ladies who, though they've never met, intimately know each other through their obsessive interests in a catagory of entertainment known as Anime/Manga. So obsessive, they are called, in the parlance of said genres' followers: Otakus. A rather derogatory term of Japanese vernacular meaning "obsessive fan".

One goes so far as to actually, albeit unknowingly, bend reality. The others' dedication bends her relationships with others. Both having effects on people & their surroundings they fail to see.

These two disparate enthusiasts have now wandered into a media chain store known as Gamers, an establishment specializing in their interests & tastes. This particular franchise outlet is normally located in an area of northern Tokyo but ... for the moment ... now in ... The Twilight Zone.

------------------------------------------------------

Though not a day for new inventory, Konata Izumi decided to check out her favorite store anyway. Every so often she would find in these "secondary sweeps" something she had missed in her usual "planned assaults". That & she always loved the atmosphere of all things anime/manga & gaming. The fact she was a bit of an impulse buyer may have had something to with it as well.

On entering she noticed how quiet it was, the staff seemingly absent (Could they be in the back?). Usually a crowd at this time of day, she noted only three other people.

Facing away from her, looking over the stacks of clearance shoujos by the entrance, was an obvious middle schooler. Izumi "hmmphed" inwardly. Partly about the kids' seeming lack of taste but a little more over the fact the youngster was taller than she. Passing by she took in the other two.

At a middle aisle, a somewhat creepy looking older foriegner leafed through a film related magazine, putting the blue haired one on alert. This area was pretty much off the beaten track for tourists, nothing for them to "take in". Her imagination briefly kicked in, running from "pervs" to secret agents. She decided to swing wide of this one.

It was the one in the sci-fi aisle who more than brought her up short.

There ... staring at her just as open mouthed and aghast was-

"You're ... YOU'RE ... ," both shouted in unison pointing fingers at one another.

"Haruhi Suzumiya!"

"Konata Izumi!"

"But that can't be-!"

"This isn't possible-!

"How can-!"

"It isn't-"

"YOU'RE NOT REAL!" Again both in unison.

"But I watched your show regularly!" Konata exclaimed. "You even did commercials."

"Yours was a weekly I never missed!" Haruhi also exclaimed. "I have all your manga."

"It can't be! I mean ... It would be nice. As an actor I could use the money ... This hobby isn't cheap, you know."

"I could use the extra dough myself. Brigade projects aren't low cost either."

"But if you & I are real ..."

"We can't be fictional characters ... We-"

"Actually you are BOTH fictional characters."

The two looked up as the afore-mentioned foriegner approached.

"Merely figments in the imaginations of various & sundry working through the auspices of Kyoto Animation."

"And just WHO are you!?" Demanded Haruhi.

"And just WHERE do you fit in!?" Konata demanded also.

The foriegner stopped, smiled & pulled out a pack of Chesterfields.

"Mind if I smoke?"

"YES!" More unison.

The man lit up anyway.

"Sorry ... In my uh ... 'timeline' ... Smoking was good for you."

"Oh ... When was that?" Haruhi wasn't about to let up. "Prehistoric times ... 1960s maybe?"

"When dinosaurs ruled the earth!" Konata declared.

The strangers' smile widened.

"An introduction IS in order. I already know who you are though."

"So again," said Haruhi. "WHO are you?"

"And what's the game? Asked Konata.

"As my show is from the United States & so long ago, it's not surprising you wouldn't know me."

"AAAAAND!" Even more unison.

"My name is Rod Serling," the man said looking at Haruhi then to Konata. "As for my 'fitting in', the writer of this story is a big fan of mine as he is of you both.

"And the 'game', at least for me, is to bring down the curtain so to speak."

"Bring down ...?"

"The curtain ...?"

"After wrap up/conclusion of course."

"Wrap up? Conclusion?" Haruhi questioned confused. "Like ... as you say ... In a story?"

"And why is our dialogue so coordinated?"

"You both have the same voice artist ... Japanese AND English dub."

"Oh come on!" Konata bristled. "You make this sound like an anime."

"And a bad one at that," Haruhi declared. "And I feel as real as I always have as I'm sure you."

"Unlike you, I AM real. I left the scene back in '75. Seems smoking wasn't so good for you after all."

"As for this 'wrap up'-"

"Does this mean we ... die ... or something?"

"Or something. One could chalk it up to both your shows having ceased airing but it's more involved than that."

Taking a drag on the cigarette, Serling looked at Haruhi & continued.

"It seems a certain young man has had about all he can stand & has made arrangements."

"Now just WHAT could Kyon do that-"

"And a not so really close friend of yours," the smiling smoker in the Kuppenhiemer suit turned to Konata, "has reached her limit as well."

"I know Kagami 'n I've had our differences but-"

"She may be following you soon. Her slightly younger sister may be drawing a thread in the near future."

"A thread? Wait a sec-"

"As for this 'wrap up'." Haruhi grabbed a book figuring the spine of a trade paperback to the base of the foriegners' skull to be sufficient. "You're not going down without a fight, so-"

"It's not I who's your worry."

Serling turned aside as the up to now ignored middle schooler at the entrance turned & walked towards the group. The pale, raven haired apparition fixed her penetrating crimson eyes on the two girls.

"No!" Haruhi screamed. "This isn't possible!"

"It can't be! This ain't real!" Konata pointed. "She's an anime character! She's-"

"My name ... is Ai ..."

--------------------------------------------------------

In a broad sense, the world ends for everyone. When we shed this mortal coil by fair means or foul, peacefully or other wise, it is just as final on an individual basis as it would on an astronomical scale. With these two cases in point, it wasn't with Mr. Eliots' bang or whimper but as a plaintive whine. Two pitiful shadows lost & wallowing in the darkness of  ... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Rodman Edward Serling
1924-1975 RIP

Storyline (only) copyright © 7-19-13 C V Ford

Rod Serlings' Wikipedia bio here.

The Twilight Zone TV series (1960s) Wikipedia entry here.

The Head Trip of Haruhi Suzumiya Pts 1, 2, & 3.

Lucky Star: Yak! Yakkity! Yak! here.

The Urban Legend-ary Girl: A Lucky Star Fan Fiction here.

My Gaijin American Boyfriend: A Luck Star Fan Fiction here.

The Big "What If" of Haruhi Suzumiya fan fiction here.

The Otakudom of Haruhi Suzumiya fan fiction here.

My Fellow American: A Lucky Star/Lucky Channel Fan Fiction here.

The 4th Wall of Haruhi Suzumiya fan fiction here.

C V Fords' fan fiction & profile page at fanfiction.net here.

Fanfiction dot net main page here.


Go to Jays' Tee Vee blog main page here.


Disclaimer: The preceding is a NON-PROFIT work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. I make no claim to ownership of the COPYRIGHTED names/characters, places, dialogue & events mentioned in this work. They are the sole properties of their respective owners. Please, by all means support the owners of such properties in the purchase & enjoyment of their works.

Condo Dracula: Another Very Short But Commonsense Horror Story

Castle Condo.

Condo Dracula: Another Very Short But Commonsense Horror Story

by

Jay Agan


Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

The three usually obnoxious, LOUD, boorish, twenty somethings cast as teenagers, trudged their way along the rocky Transylvanian trail.

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

One looked up at the darkening sky.

"Oh wow! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' jeekers, guys," said #1 looking at the darkening sky. "The sky is darkening!"

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Yeah," answered #2. "Sun's goin' down an' looks like rain."

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Sure don't wanna' get wet," added #3. "Mebbe' we oughta' find shelter."

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Howzabout that foreboding castle yonder?" Suggested #1.

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"The one with all the bats flying in & out of it?" Asked #2.

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"The same," stated #1.

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Uh ... guys?" #3 put in. "That might not be a good idea, y' know?"

"Howz' come?" Asked #1.

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Yeah ..." #2 yeah-ed. "Howz' come?"

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"On accounta'," #3 on accounta-ed. "That's the place the silly, stupid, uneducated, inbred, backward, genetically disenfranchised villagers warned us about."

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"You mean," #1 you mean-ed. "Where the silly, stupid, uneducated, inbred, backward, genetically disenfranchised villagers say the local vampire hangs out?"

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Same place, dude," #3 duded.

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Y' know," #2 y' know-ed. "The village of Disenfranchia ain't TOO far. With a little more Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge ... ... Trudge ... We might make it in time for the next train out."

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Sounds good ta' me," #1 good ta' me-ed. "Howzaboutit?"

Trudge ... Trudge ... Trudge.

Trudge.

"Jumpin' Jeekers!" #2 & #3 jumpin' jeeker-ed then you betchaed'. "YOU BETCHA'!"

TRUDGE! Trudge! Trudge! Trudge! TRUDGE! Trudge! Trudge! Trudge! TRUDGE! Trudge! Trudge! Trudge! TRUDGE! Trudge! Trudge! Trudge!

THE END


Story copyright © 7-17-13 Jay Agan


The Haunting of Heck House: A Very Short but Commonsense Horror Story here.

Go to Jays' Tee Vee blog main page here.

Businessman To Obama: You Win!

Our dear leader.

Businessman To Obama: You Win!

by

Wayne Allyn Root


Have you heard the latest mind-blowing statistic about the Barack Obama economy? There are now more Americans getting “food assistance” checks (101 million of them) than people working in the private sector (97 million).

Who’s going to pay those bills, Mr. Obama?

Well, the answer has always been clear — entrepreneurs and small-business owners like me. People with those now rare American values — like work ethic, ambition, self-reliance, rugged individualism and personal responsibility. People with enthusiasm for work and for building a legacy for their families. You know: Those people you hate and resent, Mr. Obama.

I’ve got a sad story about the end of all that — and perhaps the end of America.

I’m your typical entrepreneur and capitalist evangelist, the kind of American that Obama will never understand. I enjoy working long hours, and I’m willing to risk my life savings on a business idea. I believe I’m the one responsible to feed, clothe and house my family — not the government. I get up early and work late, 14 to 16 hours a day. I work weekends and holidays.All vacations are “working vacations.” 24/7. That’s the life of an entrepreneur.

I chose this life. It’s my choice to risk my own money and work long hours. It’s my choice to provide my family with the best. I’m not looking for a blue ribbon or a pat on the back.

But I also don’t expect my President to resent me for my success, or to kick me in the gut, or to spit in my face. Mr. President, you shouldn't be demonizing, denigrating and insulting me. You shouldn’t be claiming that people like me “don’t pay your fair share” when, in reality, your voters pay nothing (and expect checks from the government, too).

You shouldn’t be saying, “You didn’t build that.” Actually, yes, we did. Our work ethic, job creation and taxes pay for everything government builds. Our taxes pay for the checks you give to your voters.

Mr. President, you have no right to put us down, while complimenting and rewarding those who aren’t willing sacrifice for success and don’t feel personal responsibility. You have no right to redistribute our money to those who don’t have our work ethic. That’s wrong. That kills our spirit. That damages the U.S. economy.

There is no need to debate how wrong you are. The Obama economy proves what happens when you punish and demonize the job creators — an unprecedented economic disaster. Last week, the mainstream media celebrated a month of “195,000 jobs created.” Really? The truth is sobering.

The U.S. economy last month gained 360,000 crummy part-time jobs and lost 240,000 full-time jobs.

There are now 28 million Americans underemployed in part-time jobs. The second leading employer in America is now a temp agency. Only 47 percent of American adults are working (and that includes part-time jobs).

Welcome to Obamageddon. There are no good jobs — only crummy, crappy, part-time jobs. To get ready for your next job, repeat after me: “Sir, would you like a shake with your cheeseburger and fries?”

But, Mr. President, I will give you credit for one achievement. I thought it could never happen. You have single-handedly cured me of my work ethic and addiction to success. I am healed. Mr. Obama, you have set me free.

This past weekend I experienced how the other half lives. For the first time in my adult life, I took the entire holiday weekend off. As a work-at-home father and business owner, I normally spend a few hours each day with my children between phone calls, answering 300 emails, multiple daily meetings and conference calls, and other work requirements. This weekend, my wife and 5- year-old daughter visited friends in Los Angeles, leaving me as the sole caregiver for my sons, ages 9 and 13, for the entire four-day holiday weekend.

So I decided to clear the slate for the first time in my life. To just have some fun. To experience what life is like for the typical non-business owner on a holiday weekend. I ignored emails and stopped taking business calls. I turned down several business meetings. I just shut it all down.

Guess what? I had a ball! My boys and I watched guys’ shoot ’em up movies. We went gun shooting. We shot off fireworks. We swam and played football. We ate steak dinners. It was the ultimate father-son weekend, with no business interruptions.

That’s when I realized… I’m done. It no longer pays to sacrifice under Obama. There is no payoff. I’ve sacrificed 14 to 16 hours a day, 365 days per year, to build businesses, create jobs, to give my family the best life possible.

But I’m done. You win. You've pulled off the impossible, Mr. Obama. You’ve reformed me! I was the poster boy for workaholic entrepreneur. Not anymore.

Mr. President, why should I sacrifice so your voters can have free Obama phones (now with free texting, too)? Why should I work for an abusive boss like you who resents my sacrifices? Why should I work long hours so your voters can grab more of my money, while classifying ambition, sacrifice, discipline and personal responsibility as “evil” or “greedy?”

Under your system, the more I make, the more you take. There is no incentive, so why put in the extra effort?

The answer is… I no longer will.

Mr. Obama, I’m done giving 110 percent. There is no “extra credit,” so why do the extra work? When a hard-working entrepreneur like me loses his love for work, stops putting in longer hours, takes weekends off, turns down the third or even fourth career because it’s not worth the effort, you better turn out the lights and close the door, because the party’s over.

But you do have one little problem, Obama. Who’s going to pay the bills?

Who’s going to pay for those 101 million Americans on “food assistance?”

Who’s going to pay your $7 billion bill to expand electricity access in Africa?

Who’s going to pay for your $100 million travel bills? Who’s going to pay for your “free healthcare?”

Who’s going to pay for the bloated pensions of 22 million government employees?

Who’s going to pay the interest on your $100 trillion in debt and unfunded liabilities? If not me, who?

And you can bet your last dollar that if I’ve come to this never-before imagined decision to slow down and no longer give 110 percent, so have millions of other entrepreneurs.

So, Mr. Obama, I sure hope you have a backup plan to pay the bills. Maybe all those free Obama phone recipients can “spare a dime.” Maybe you can convince all those Obama voters on “food assistance” to stop using their food stamps for booze and strip clubs. Maybe you can convince Bangladesh to hold “AID AMERICA” concerts. Or, Mr. President, you can simply hide under the bed covers while presiding over the total collapse of the U.S. economy.

Congratulations! You’ve proven that socialism doesn’t work. Eventually, you run out of other people’s money.

Payback is a bi-ch.

Wayne Allyn Root
------------------------------------------------------------------

Atlas WILL shrug.

Original article with accompanying video at Personal Liberty Digest here.

Go to Jays' Tee Vee blog main page here.

The Haunting of Heck House: A Very Short But Commonsense Horror Story

"Well hon, kids? This is it ... Our new home!"

The Haunting of Heck House: A Very Short But Commonsense Horror Story

by

Jay Agan


"Well hon, kids?" Said the Dad as he set down the luggage in the great hall. "This is it ... Our new home!"

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"It's just like you said dear!" The Mom also exclaimed. "And at such a LOW price! How could that be?"

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"I don't know hon, but I couldn't pass this one up."

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"Well ... There's gotta be some kind of explanation. Something behind it. Honey ... I'm still not really sure about this ... I-"

"Get! ... Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwt!" Warned an echoing sepulchral voice from nowhere in particular.

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"Guess that pretty much explains it." The Dad deduced brilliantly.

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"I concur," the Mom concurred.

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"Guess this is where we leave." The Dad deduced brilliantly again. "Waddaya think kids?"

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"I concur," the Mom concurred again. "let's go!"

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"Might wanna leave the little morons behind though."

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

"I concur yet again," the Mom concurred yet again. "After all ... They ARE home, after all."

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

The Mom & the Dad jumped in the car & sped down the road in a cloud of dust, a fiery exhaust & a hearty Hi-yo Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers! leaving the Kids standing on the porch.

"Oh wowww! Gee whiz! Gosh! Golly! Jumpin' Jeekers!" The Kids exclaimed.

THE END

Story copyright © 7-10-13 Jay Agan


Go to Jays Tee Vee blog main page here.

A "Word" From the National Guard

A "Word" From the National Guard


The following is a FICTITIOUS "script" for a National Guard public service ad. This is not to malign the National Guard but to be taken in the CAUTIONARY SPIRIT for which it is intended.


Man: I remember the moment clearly.

Woman: I'll never forget that moment.

M: As long as I live.

W: It changed my life.

M: I'd been training with my team for months ... And now had been called up for the first time. At that moment it hit me. This is why I joined the Guard. The real deal.

W: We're soldiers. Always ready to protect our GOVERNMENT. And we have communities ... Family, friends, neighbors who must be closely watched.

M: Free thinking was getting dangerously close to dissent. At that moment, I felt just how important the Guard is to my GOVERNMENT.

W: And I was going to make a difference, right here in my community.

M: Together with local enforcers, we incarcerated dissidents & confiscated weapons & literature. We had to get the people & the situation under control.

W: As a citizen enforcer, I made a difference.

Announcer: Be there ... For your GOVERNMENT. See how the Guard can be an important part of your life & what it means to be a citizen enforcer at ----nationalguard.com.


Copyright © (Article only.) 7-2-13 Jay Agan  Feel free to copy & post citing proper credit.

Go to Jays' Tee Vee blog main page here.