mind expanding nonsense

Archive for the ‘Ripe For Ridicule’ Category

Thou Shalt Not Covid

In our new world of Covid 19 there appears to be no end to the  shortages we’re facing.  There’s a shortage of masks and personal protective equipment.  Ventilators are in short supply, along with tests, and increasingly trained medical personnel, who are sadly falling victim to this hideous virus.  There is a shortage of toilet paper, and soon there will be a shortage of meat as packing houses are being closed due to employee infections.  There’s a shortage of patience, and a shortage of leadership.  But when I see local state houses inundated with armed protesters, demanding their ‘Right’ to assemble, jammed together mostly without wearing masks, but carrying huge assault-type weapons.  I know one thing, at least there’s no shortage of fucking idiots.

Hallmark Christmas Movies


If you have cable or satellite TV, you probably get the Hallmark channel.  And like all the specialty channels that abound these days, Hallmark specializes in G rated light-weight romance movies.  Their Christmas movies have a huge audience, mostly women who prefer non-violent schmaltz with happy endings over the more edgier stuff on Amazon Prime, HBO, Netflicks and all the other subscriber channels ya gotta pay extra for.

They are all basically the same:  A young attractive woman who has a high paying dream-job in the big city that affords her the opportunity to frequent coffee bars, enjoy long leisurely lunches in nice restaurants (always with a glass of wine), and whose boss is always kind, supportive and allows her much time off (did I mention that these are fantasies) to travel to her small home-town because Daddies Christmas tree farm is in danger of being bought-out by a greedy corporation who wants to turn the place into condos.  What’s a girl to do?  Matters get worse when the corporate rep, a good-looking single guy who just loves her cute young son/daughter, shows up in town at the same time.  The tension between the two , who are always smiling (as is everyone else) builds.  But somehow despite all odds, love is in the air, along with a lot of hot chocolate and snowball fights, and Mister Wrong turns out to be Mister Right.  He softens up and they fall in love.  The Christmas tree farm is saved, Daddy is put in an Alzheimer’s home, and they seal the deal with a kiss (always closed mouth and never any  tongue).  Oh yeah, it turns out that he was actually a Prince in disguise.

These are really low budget movies that only take three weeks to shoot.  Most of the cast are straight out of community theater, and if they do have a ‘star’, they are usually well past their prime.  All the hot actresses of the 80’s and 90’s are now playing not so hot grandmas.  You kinda know them when ya see ’em, the challenge is: what sit-com where they on thirty years ago?

The locations are always snow covered small mountain towns with thriving cup-cake bakeries, candle shops and antique stores.  Main street is over decorated with all manner of Holiday paraphernalia.  And every interior shot filled floor to ceiling with holly, ribbon and multiple Christmas trees.

Wow Hansi!  How come you know so much about Hallmark movies?  Well…The Wife loves ’em, and we start recording them as soon as they come out in early September.  Every night until Christmas is a Hallmark movie in our house; we’re now staring to record “Winter” movies and are gearing up for Valentines (another biggie) shows.

I actually don’t mind these movies that much.  After an early evening of medication, listening to 60’s music on earphones and dreaming up blog stuff, it’s nice to settle in on the couch with a case of the munchies and watch something that isn’t too demanding.  The good part is I can fall asleep and not wonder how it ended.  They all end the same…Happily Ever-after.

Fleecing The Flock


In my ongoing attempt to avoid watching cable TV news in the morning while pedaling my ass off on a stationary bicycle at the gym (talk about going nowhere fast),  I’ve taken to watching TV evangelists, with the hopes that instead of starting my day totally pissed off, it might be better to start with a more positive attitude.  Problem is, as lofty and syrupy sweet some of them sound, or as positive ‘let God do it for ya’ do others, they all have one thing in common.   They all want your money!

Most of the “Prosperity Preachers” (see my post Peddling Prosperity, which I’m not linking as it’s too much work and which you can easily look to your right and see; why do I have to do all the work?), after inspiring your to place all your trust in God, end their shows with a pitch to purchase even more inspiring material for donations to their ministry.  Being on TV ain’t free, and some one has to pay for it.

The worst of the lot are those who’ll send you literature for free.  They’re thinking long-term, and from my own personal experience, want you to get hooked, become a member and start “tithing”.  If ya don’t know what tithing is, blow the dust off the cover of your family bible and check-out Leviticus 27: 30 and Numbers 18: 25-28. [ If you don’t have a bible you can always steal one from the next motel you stay in – nobody will notice].  Tithing was basically a national form of taxation for the ancient Israelites; a way to finance their temple-state form of government and all the priests that ran it. [Wish my tax-bracket were a mere ten percent].  Why is it that Jesus did away with all that old testament stuff, except except tithing, which a lot of his representatives feel is still valid today?

Anyway…sounds like someone is getting ripped-off.  Many of these folks have a multi-million dollar net-worth.  If your minister/TV evangelist is driving a better car than yours, guess who’s paying for it.  If he or she has a better wardrobe and dresses in more expensive cloths than you, guess who’s payin’ for that.  If they live in a much bigger and better house than yours, guess who’s paying the mortgage.  Seems likes someone is getting rich on my dime.

I once made out a check to God and sent it in, but it was never cashed.  Guess nobody had proper I.D.  I’ve found that the next best, and most equitable thing to do when making an offering is to take all you money outdoors and throw it up into the air.  God will take what he truly needs, and what falls back to earth is yours. [This method does work as well on windy days, when instead you should use coins.]

All the above of course doesn’t apply to Hansi Ministries.  I gladly accept all free-will offerings: cash (Dollars Pounds Euros and Pesos – I live in Southern California) checks, money orders, credit cards,  Pay Pal and Bitcoins.

Peddling Prosperity

Just about every morning I go to the Gym.  And after some moderate strength training (weight lifting),  I spend 30 minutes literally pedaling my ass off on a recumbent stationary cycle which has it’s own little TV.  Normally I’ll watch cable news, stuff like CNN or MSNBC, or if I really wanna raise my heart rate, FOX.  But all that does is piss me off, so a few days ago I went channel surfing, while pedaling, and watched televangelist Joyce Meyer.

Wow!  What a show!  A sixty year old woman with painted lips like the Jokers, telling  everyone that God wanted you to go on an adventure with Him, and that He’ll solve all your problems and even reward you financially because He preferred to see the righteous prosper more than the wicked.  All ya needed to do to start was one of her books, which she’ll gladly send you for a love offering of $30 (or more).  Doing so would result in blessings ten times over, and there would be no stoppin’ ya then.

As warm and fuzzy all this feel-good shit sounded, a couple of things kinda didn’t sit right.  As I recall from Sunday School, Jesus talked about the poor being the ones who are blessed; not to lay up treasures on earth; how it’s easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God; and  giving away all that you have to the poor.  Secondly, Paul said women should remain silent in church, and that it was “a disgrace” for them not to do so.

Well, times have changed, and what did Paul and Jesus know about Christianity anyway…they were Jewish.  What she, and others, like folksy sincere Joel Osteen, are preaching is the “Prosperity Gospel.”  And boy oh boy are they gettin’ rich.  Ms Meyer has an estimated net worth of 25 million dollars; Osteen around 40 mil.  This got me to thinkin’…God don’t want me just barely getting by on Social Security and a piddly-ass small county pension.  He wants me to be rich!

So ol’ Hans is now fleecing servicing the flock with his drawing ministry.  You too can enjoy the uplifting drawings that will bring you closer to God (and your financial goals) with a faith offering of $30 (or more).  In return, you’ll receive a personalized, digitally anointed Hansi original.  Just leave your credit card number, with expiration date and security code, in the comment section below, and you’ll be just a short copy and paste away from your adventure in faith with Hansi and all his inspiring artwork.


Have ya ever wondered what it would have been like to live in ancient Babylon.  In the time of Nebuchadnezzar.  With all them hanging gardens, rich blue tile Ishtar gates and Daniel being thrown into the lions den (if you remember Sunday School – I hated it!  Not only was it bad enough having to sit in a classroom Monday thru Friday, but then going to school on the weekend, plus having to get dressed-up, that was a violation of sacred time off)?

Life was probably great in Babylon, if you were the king or part or the royal family, but if you were just an average Josiah Schmo, it most likely sucked.  Unless of course if you had a good job like scribe, sitting in the shade all day next to some cool moist clay tablets, writing down how great the King was; had to know cuneiform though.  I don’t think women were a big part of the work-force.  You were either a stay-at-home mom, or a concubine (another government job).

I remember as a kid Babylon being this really wicked place wherein the evil king, when he wasn’t having hallucinations of giant hands writing on his walls or dreaming about huge statues with golden heads and feet of clay, was busy feeding people to wild animals or throwing them in a fiery furnace.  Even in these days of Donald Trump, I think life in 21st century Southern California towers over that of the land of Babel.

Writin’ Stuff Down

If I don’t write stuff down I’ll forget it.  Most of the time that’s just fine with me.  But if I really wanna remember something I better have a written reminder, and preferably, one I won’t overlook.  Can’t just put a note on a loose pile of papers, cause sure as shit I won’t see it.  No, it’s gotta be a big old sign featured prominently like the one the Wife put on our refrigerator door:  Push Me Closed.  We have an older model fridge, which sometimes doesn’t close all the way because it’s so full of half eaten crap ya gotta rearrange everything inside to get what ya got out back in.  It would be a shame to leave the door ajar, and let all the junk you ain’t gonna eat go bad.

Sometimes when I walk by the fridge, I wonder “Push who closed?”  That reminds me, I better check the fridge to make sure it’s closed…Didn’t write it down.

I’m Not A Liberal Anymore

Yep,  Ol’ Hansi has gone over to the dark-side of politics, and is now a Conservative.  Although I’ve been a liberal (of the bleeding heart variety) for just about all my adult life, I’ve found that lately I haven’t been happy.  In fact, I’ve been down-right grumpy, cynical and pissed off… all the time.  My frustration usually starts early in the a.m. when I watch Morning Joe (a liberal MSNBC talk-show) and continues into the evening chased by more left-wing progressive talking head shows.

From now on none of that stuff is gonna bother me anymore.  If I hear something I disagree with, no problem…it’s fake news.  Donald Trump is a great president.  He knows the art of the deal.  He’s gonna make America great again (if all them liberals and illegal aliens would get outta the way).  Cause he’s a business man, he’ll drain the swamp in Washington – Stormy Daniels monkey business notwithstanding.  I no longer care about the double standard and am very concerned about the unborn.  Hey, everybody knows if one standard is good, two’s gotta be better, and once outside the womb, it’s open-season on your ass!  Besides, as a newly converted conservative, I now know the secret password (jesus…but don’t tell anybody) which is like a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card. All this new found euphoria ain’t gonna come cheap for Ol’ Hansi.  I gotta rush out and buy a gun to protect my Second Amendment rights; everything is gonna be  just fine once I’m fully armed.

Wow…All this new-found conservatism is starting to look really good.  I’m a lot happier now, but I don’t think I’ll be ripping-up my medical marijuana prescription just yet.  Never know when you’ll need a little help from on High.

Disclaimer:  My writing skills being what the may, some folks might misconstrue this as absolute truth, instead of parody, satire, sarcastic lampoonery or just plain bullshit as was my intention.

Ya Can’t Un-See This

Nope.  It’s now forever etched into your memory.  No matter how hard ya try, you won’t be able to un-see this image.  It’s in there forever, kinda like the digital history of all the smutty porn sites you’ve been to and think you’ve erased by clearing your browser history and cookies.  Not so.  It’s on your permanent record, and it can’t be wiped clean.

Sorry.  Maybe I should’ve posted a warning.

No Words

This was gonna be an experimental post, conceptual in nature.  A post without words (except in the title, which doesn’t really count, but does, cause a post without words isn’t supposed to have words – even in the title.  But then a lot of folks might not get it, an just think that in my zeal to exploit explore this concept, I totally spaced out and accidentally pushed the publish button before I could dream-up a title. I usually start with a cool title and go from there).  So I thought that maybe just a picture with no words, let alone a thousand, would be just enough.  This is after all a Drawing blog, with commentary throw in as filler only.

Stormy Whether

Well….I’ve had a few days to fully digest Stormy Daniels and her appearance on the 60 Minutes news show.  I was waiting all week prior, just anticipating how juicy and salacious it was gonna be.  What gaff, what new revelation would be made.  Is The Donald doomed, finally gonna get his comeuppance by some bosom-matic porn star ?  Hard to wait for the next exciting episode.

What a bust! [Not her over-sized boobs, which just can’t be natural, and in reality, make her look like a freak of nature, not to mention the serious back-aches carrying them things ], but what a big nothing.  A one night fling, with a 60 year old guy she didn’t particularly find attractive, nor more than a run of the mill lover.  The Stormstress just found herself in a bad situation, knew what was coming, and like the professional she was, just sucked it up faced the music.  That was it.  She was no victim, just wanted to clear her good name.

I was disappointed.   She did a good job.  I found her believable.   But found myself wanting more, and a little pissed that I’d been ‘led on’ into focusing my attention, and what I allow into my mind, on Donald trump and his daily antics yet once again.  Will it ever end?


Lapidation is another word for stoning, like when convicted law violators were stoned as punishment (usually for adultery).  Today, getting stoned has a totally different meaning.  [I love finding new obscure words, so when I’m sitting in my recliner listening to music with  headphones on (no ear-buds for me), drawing in a sketchbook and writing blog posts, and The Wife asks me, “Are you stoned again?”  I can reply, “Why no sweetheart, just a little lapidated”.]

Stoning was a pretty harsh punishment, especially for one who was a probation officer for thirty years; we only got to throw ‘the book’ at people.  Stoning was a community event.  Everybody got to participate.  That way no one individual took the blame for the killing.  “Hey, I only threw a rock”, was a common rejoinder.  Jesus allowed only those who were without blame to throw the first stone.  Guess ya had to be someone very special to go to the front of the line.  Being first isn’t that big a deal anyway. it’s the last guy (or gal) who casts the final stone that really counts.  Kinda like being the straw that broke the camel’s back except a lot heavier. The first ‘caster’ probably isn’t gonna do much damage, unless he’s a good shot.  It’s the last guy who gets to teach the adulterer a lesson they’ll never forget.  The first shall be last, and the last shall be first!

The Wall

I wonder if we’re ever gonna build a wall between the U.S. and Mexico.  If we do, and that could sure take a long time cause Mexico has to save up a lot of pesos to pay for it, I sure hope it looks like the one in my drawing.  This is how it would look from the Mexican side.  A lot of enticements to come on over.  Hot Dog Man has a lot to offer, but only if ya come legally.  So ya better watch-out or ya might end up behind bars.

What if this is how the wall would look like from the American side, like somewhere in Texas.  Senior Hot Dog Mon unleashing all these foreign objects over the wall.  Pretty scary!  And…What if the wall wasn’t meant to keep them out , but to keep us in?

Social Media


I know it’s important, but I’m not a big consumer of social media.  I don’t do Facebook (absolute waste of time), I have never ‘tweeted’ and have never sent a text message.  I don’t even own a cell phone.  Don’t get me wrong.  Some technology is good.  I just think one ought to choose wisely which forms you’re willing to embarrass  embrace.  A cell phone could come in real handy when traveling.  I sure could of used one the other day when I wondered off, got lost and wished I could call The Wife to find out where I was.

Advice for Seniors

“Hello Seniors!”  Ever get a phone call that starts with “hello seniors”?  An annoying recorded message no doubt aimed at sellin’ ya something you really don’t need.  I usually hang-up, but sometimes first unload with some potty-mouthed classics telling them where they can go, where they can stick it and what they can do to themselves.  I know…that’s not very nice, but hey…it’s only a recording and nobody is really listening on the other end, and, it’s a good way to vent.

What really fries me is older ‘senior’ celebrities trying to sell reverse mortgages as a solution to all our financial problems.  It’s hard to argue with the likes of Tom Selleck and Henry Winkler, after all, that ‘s The Fonz and Magnum P.I. and surely they’d never lie to us.

Getting older is no piece of cake, but certainly beats the alternative, and  Dealing with change is especially hard.  I hate it when I go to my favorite grocery store -Trader Joes – And find that everything has been moved around to a more ‘convenient’ location.  When I go to a store, I wanna go right to where my item is located, pick it up and leave a quickly as possible.  Shopping is never fun.

What really bugs me is when something you’ve always taken for granted and centered your life upon is changed.  It used to be that garment tags were always placed on the back of underwear inside the waistband.  The last pack The Wife bought me ( I don’t buy anything I can’t consume or listen to) had the tags in front, and on the outside of the waistband.  You can see all the problems that would cause an old guy mindlessly going through life on cruise control.  You could end up wearing your drawers inside-out (not so awful if you’re trying to squeeze out a little extra mileage between washings by flipping ’em).  The worst thing is discovering, usually in a public restroom, that you’ve but on your hangers backwards and can’t find that handy little pocket.  The transient in the next stall probably wondering what the heck is going on in there.

Well, ya can’t trust nothin’ these days. Not the Fonz, not Magnum P.I.  From now on, when it comes to me and my beliefs briefs, it’s yellow in front and brown in the rear.

Passing A Drug Test

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Back in the day when I was a probation officer [Oh no, another war story], I had to test some of my ‘clients’ who had drug terms as a part of their probation.  No drug use allowed.  That meant yours truly had to watch junkies, wife-beaters and other drug-usin’ crooks pee in a small jar that I would take from them with gloved hands and send off to the lab for analysis.  Ah yes, doing your favorite thing, and, getting paid for it; don’t get much better than that.  Sometimes when I was out in the field, I had little dip-sticks (for the dip-shits) that could give me an instant read on whether or not the were clean (drug free).  A lot of my clients couldn’t pass their test, and as a result, got in a lot of trouble

Wow.  As groovy as re-living the past is, this whole thing got me to thinkin’.  What if, in a parallel universe, the definition of passing a drug test had a different meaning.  When I was in school, I was tested on what was in my brain.  And in order to pass, I had to put down the answers they wanted.  Pass or fail.  Leaving something blank, or skipping a question often times guaranteed a fail.  So…In my alternative universe, passing a drug test means you have certain drugs in your system, and if ya didn’t, Sorry Charlie, you failed.

In this universe, being on drugs is a good thing.  Maybe cause Big Pharma has finally taken over, and they want you usin’ their product.  “If ya got an affliction, there’s no restriction” on a medication to make life more tolerable.  Mandatory drug testing would assure you were using the right stuff.

Well, we all know that will never happen.  Although they are pushing vaccinations on us (and rightly so..I had the measles and chicken pox; it was no picnic), and on TV, all ya see are ads for different drugs, many with a free 15 day trial offer.  Reminds me of what the local pusher used to say, “The first fix is always free.”

Friday the 13th 005

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