Let's Get Naked and Pose Like a Frozen Chicken!!!!

Ahhhh…smell that?  Go ahead, take a whiff.  That smell of four-week old dead skunk and a 97-year-old man’s bath towel.  Yep, it’s Monday.

If you have the day off, good for you.  For me, the world of fake news doesn’t stop even for 564-year-old Italians on a fishing expedition. 

I’m happy to say I emerged from beneath my bedding here at the compound this morning and realized I had actually survived a traumatic weekend.  Let’s count it down, shall we?

Saturday saw the hugely disappointing, but not altogether surprising butt-whooping of OU by a Texas team whose motto before Saturday was, “Hey, at least we’re better than Kansas.”  I took some grief over a post I made on Facebook in which I seemed to hint that it was time for a return of Switzer.  You people take stuff too literally!  I’m not too certain Brother Barry would want the job or that any of us would actually want him to have the job. 

But I recall seeing all of those clips on YouTube in which Switzer is telling his team that the Sooners are double-digit favorites and the other team is scared of them, but (he pointed out) they (Sooners) need to hunker down and play football, because a scared man is a dangerous man.  Sage advice, Brother Barry, sage advice.

I’m sure the Sooners were prepared, they were just outplayed.  Poor Mayfield was running for his life back there every time the O-line broke down. 

So it is that I find my beloved Sooners dropped from 10 to 19 in the rankings.  Maybe I should just go back to bed and hide until next Saturday.  No wait, next Saturday is K-State.  Ugh!

Saturday also marked yet another birthday for me.  They just keep coming! Which, in the big scheme of things is not a bad thing, me thinks…at least they’re still coming. 

I tend to ignore my birthday for the most part.  Probably that whole face-your-own-mortality thing.  But, it’s hard to do when everyone (non-family) from my dentist (on the East Coast…he hasn’t yet noticed I’m gone) to the Shining Bankruptcy Casino in Slapout sends me a card, postcard or email wishing me a happy birthday and wouldn’t I like to schedule an appointment for a session of painless (sic) dentistry or an emptying of my checking account at a casino ATM in celebration. Actually, come to think of it, I empty my checking account in either scenario.  Hmmmmm…comparing dentistry to casino gambling…sounds like a blog post!

You know, I’m as hip a 43-year-old guy as the next 57-year-old…or at least I think I am.  I do my best to stay up on new trends, like #combingbernie where people do their best to resemble Bernie Sanders if he didn’t look like an unmade bed (all the kids are doing it!).

I subscribe to Rolling Stone, MAD Magazine, and the Woodward News, but every once in a while…some new trend sneaks past me.  And, I only hear about it because I’m always digging for some new crap to write about in this blog (Oh, right…I also have a blog…see how hip I am?).

So it was this morning, when I came across something called a FrozenChook.  That’s #frozenchook for those of you altogether TOO cool people. 

The FrozenChook-ers have their own Facebook page and everything!  Still not sure what the hell I’m talking about? 

“That Hohweiler boy sure is strange.  And he came from such a good family!  Good, decent people.  It’s just a shame. Bless his heart.”

Allow the king of hip to explain, my babies…

First, let us turn to the frozen food aisle in your brain.  No scratch that, let us turn to the not-yet-completely-defrosted meats in the “Fresh Meat” aisle of your brain.  Okay, you see those partially frozen chicken carcasses over in the corner? 

Over there…right next to the magazine rack in your brain with skin magazines next to the cashier stand with the cashier from hell that’s staring at you and daring you to peep inside those magazines on her shift.

“Feeling lucky you little punk?”

Yeah, those dead chickens…in sealed plastic bags…don’t worry about freeing them, they’re dead.  Okay, now hold that image in your brain.  There you go!  That’s FrozenChook…well, sort of. 

The idea with FrozenChook is to get yourself naked…totally naked.  Curl yourself into a sort of upright fetal position and get your picture taken in front of some recognizable landmark.  Is that cool, or what?  My favorite is the guy who had his pic taken in front of the KFC (ghost of Col Sanders will be after his naked ass, I’m thinking). 

Homeland Security (whose motto taken from the Latin is, “You civilians don’t need no Social Security Entitlement, we ARE your social security”) has issued a warning to federal, state, local and tribal first responders to be on the lookout for naked chicken chuckers (they’re a bit behind at Homeland Security in catching on to new trends).  The bulletin, obtained by CCB, goes on to say, “These naked chicken chuckers (NCCs hereafter) are a menace to society, pubic (sic) decency, and good order and discipline.”  Thank you, Richard Nixon (wait, isn’t he dead?).

Obviously, it’s a slow month at Homeland Security.  Hey, here’s a thought, maybe it’s time to dismantle Homeland Security.  I could go on and on about that, but will save it for later this week when I’m really out of things to post about.   

Be safe…oh, and Boomer Sooner!