Sunday, May 26, 2013

Family Van Swallowed Up by Mysterious Quicksand near Daytona Beach

2012 Photo of Lindner Van at Daytona Beach
New Smyrna Beach, FL – Tragedy marked the beginning of Memorial Day weekend in New Smyrna Beach when late Saturday afternoon, a van belonging to an Indiana family of six suddenly disappeared into the sand leaving no trace.

As onlookers watched, the family tried frantically to save their family vehicle from becoming entrapped in the bowels of the beach. Fortunately, no family members were in the van as it was swallowed up by the fast-moving sand. Even the family dog, Gonzo, an adorable Cairn Terrier, was spared an agonizingly slow death as one family member caught him by the tail and “pulled like hell” as he watched his specially-equipped Chrysler Caravan sink from view.

“Gonzo almost bought the farm, or in this case, the beach,” said Samuel “Sam” Lindner from Indianapolis, Indiana, father and proud owner of the van.

“He’s a tough one though. He loves having his tail tugged on, and in this case, it saved his life.”

Mindy Linder, 16, was inconsolable as she realized her most prized possession in the whole world, a diary that held all her secrets, a diary she had been keeping since the age of 12, was lost along with the van.

“All my memories are gone forever,” Mindy whined as she recalled how she had just finished writing an entry about the two Puerto Rican boys known only to her as Chico and [the] Man, both 17, who had lavished unusual attention on her as they cavorted (not her word) in the surf, a happy threesome making some very special memories that Mindy says are now lost forever.

“I told the boys I’d be right back and ran to the van. I didn’t want that moment to slip away, and so I wrote furiously about every detail, finished with my trademark, ‘smooches’ and then put the diary in my backpack and went back for more fun with my new-found local friends.”

Witnesses say it happened so fast they didn’t even realize the van was sinking until they saw the bright orange tennis ball at the tip of the CB antenna fall below the surface.

Lifeguards were quick to move the onlookers and curious gawkers off the beach and called 911 and then Jim Cantore, who, to folks along Florida’s coasts, is the man to see when severe weather events take place.

Fortunately, the Lindner family has relatives living close by in Orlando, and will be spending the remainder of their vacation there while making arrangements to rent a car and drive back to Indiana.

Sam Lindner was devastated. 

“That van was my whole world. I’d go out at night to the local 7-Eleven parking lot and sit there well into the wee hours chatting on the CB to my friends. And now that is all gone.”

Asked for one parting statement, Sam simply said “See ya on the flip flop.”

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Letters from Celebrity Summer Camp

Ed Note: Yet another reprise of camp stories since summer camp season is just around the corner. Enjoy

Here are a couple of letters from the older teens who have 'been there and done that.'

Dear Mother,

I just cannot believe how utterly ridiculous this camp is. I mean, they make us do everything for ourselves. I actually have to make my own bed in the morning, and I have now been told that if I want clean shorts, that I, Me! will have to wash the dirty ones out myself. This is a travesty!

And you simply won't believe the almost inedible food I am being made to eat every meal. Do these people not know about indoor cooking? Last night I actually had to eat beans from a can. I know you are doing this to make me a better person, but honestly, mother, this is going too far.

I am totally unable to relate to my bunk mate. She simply doesn't have the upbringing that I have had, and it is a struggle just to have a conversation with her. Last night she started to tell me her life story practically. I mean, really, quick way to bore someone, am I right?

On the bright side, I can't wait to brag to all my friends that you sent me to the best drama camp in the country this summer. Kudos to you on that, mummy.

Literally yours,
Kylie Kardashian
Camp Cinderella

P.S. Is this the same drama camp you sent Kim and Khloe to when they were my age?


Dad, Sir!

I am only writing this because I was told that if I do not write home every other day, I will get latrine duty and I don't want latrine duty.

So, I really must ask this question, when you sent me to Marine Military Camp, did you know that they have a don't ask, don't tell policy? Actually, of course, it didn't enter your mind because how could the thought of possibly having a gay son ever enter your mind? After all, you are all man and all we've ever talked about was guns, sports and how to keep women in their place, eh pop?

Well, this little experience in testosterone hell has taught me a lot about myself. I found out that there are more gay boys my age interested in the military than I could have ever imagined.

I have to admit, the pugil stick pit and the firing range aren't really my cup of tea, but come lights out, this little camp starts a hoppin'. I am so thankful you didn't listen to me when I told you I'd rather go to ballet camp (my tutu is actually a big hit).

Have I told you lately I love you dad? Not in a gay way, of course, so don't get crazy on me. Just want to say thank you for opening my eyes and helping me make the most important decision of my life. I hope you and mom will be able to come to watch me in the mud-wrestling matches this Saturday. They say I am a natural.

Semper fi.

Mel, Jr.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Blog Update

I know I've not been posting new stories lately due to health issues, but I'll be back so please hang in there with me a little while longer and before you know it, I'll have a good one up.

Cheers and thanks to all my loyal readers.

P. Beckert

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Obnoxious Ducks Find a Home

“Hurry up, Mildred,” quacked Frank the duck impatiently at his mate.

“Oh good Lord, Frank. Tell me we aren’t moving again,” Mildred quacked back.

“I’m afraid so, featherkins. Seems the leader of this duck pack just happens to be a Canadian goose who has a bubble up his butt about us snapping up all the food as the walkers pass by before he’s able to get to it. Seems I’m still the fastest pecker in the bunch,” said Frank with a smirk.

“I’ll vouch for that,” Mildred said slyly, as she smoothed her feathers and followed Frank down the walkway to their next destination—the fifth one this year.

“Where are we going now Frank?” asked Mildred. “We’ve worn out our welcome in just about every place here.”

“Don’t worry, Mildred. I’ve been scouting around, and I found a wonderful joint not a couple hundred feet from here. If we waddle fast enough, we’ll get there just in time to catch the seeds from the feeder the birds left behind this morning.”

It was our house they were eyeing like a pack full of crackers.  And by all accounts, we weren’t going to get rid of them easily.

“Frank,” said Mildred, “I’m not so sure about this place…they have cats.”

“Oh yeah, the cats,” he replied. “Don’t worry Mildred. They must be at least a hundred years old and they don’t seem to be interested in chasing ducks.”

Frank was referring to our cats who, on occasion, might go after a mole cricket or a lizard, but anything bigger than their paw and they were no longer interested. We fed them well and, well, that meant they weren’t gonna attack any ducks who might want a quick meal at the bird feeder.

Frank told Mildred, “Oh and you’ll love this, lovey…the male human actually feeds opossums from his glass siding door. I decided to do a night reconnaissance a couple of nights ago and saw him putting out some leftover cat food for the critters. He’s even given them nicknames.”

Mildred told Frank “That is about the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. We ducks never travel at night.”

Frank replied, “How do you think I find our next spots dear? I travel at night. I have to. If you haven’t noticed lately, we seem to be kicked out of every place we find. I think it is our personal hygiene.”

“Ahem,” replied Mildred. “Your hygiene you mean. You can’t eat three cracker crumbs without crapping all over the place. You have issues Frank, and they are ruining our lives.”

“Never mind Mildred,” said Frank. “I’ve found us the greatest place this time and I think we won’t ever have to move again.”

At first, for us, it was a novelty having our own pair of ducks showing up every day eating the birds’ leftovers and sunning themselves on our back porch, but the ducky doo doo began to pile up and before we knew it, we realized that ducks aren’t that cute…they’re more a nuisance and it was time to get rid of them.

The first time we clapped our hands and shooed them away, it took but a mere 5 minutes and they were back on our porch preening themselves under the bird feeder. My husband’s next course of action was to take some bread down the walkway a ways, dump it on the side and run like hell…thinking the ducks weren’t smart enough to realize that now they not only had a place to eat, but once in a while, we provided a lovely picnic in a totally different venue.

It was I, finally, who put a stop to the ducks dining on our patio. My solution was really more an act of desperation than anything else. I tried the picnic first, taking them further away from our home, but they had somehow managed to eat their meal of white bread crumbs and make it back to my house before I did. So, I did what I do to every critter who tries to take up residence in our yard. I got the hose.

Yeah, I know what you are thinking. Bright idea Einstein. Ducks sure are gonna hate water, ha ha. Well, come to find out, ducks love to swim in water, but they hate having it sprayed at them through a power nozzle. They were gone in a jiffy, quacking and clacking back and forth and I can imagine their conversation.

“Thanks a lot Frank,” said Mildred.

“What did I do this time? I was just scooping up the birdie seeds like you were,” quacked Frank indignantly.

“Oh yea? Well, maybe you didn’t notice that after Ms. Opossum lover turned the hose on us, she then turned it back on her porch to spray off the large mass of ducky doo doo you left in the corner.”

“Oh that,” he said. “Yes, I must admit, they have been feeding us rather well lately.”

They waddled away to their new destination, which Frank had found just that morning on his early reconnaissance mission.

“We going back to the flock?” asked Mildred.

“No honey. I’ve found an even better place. Her name is Ms. McNulty and she lives a few doors down from the couple who drove us out. Not only is she hard of hearing, she actually is so near-sighted that when I showed up at her door, she smiled, said “here kitty, kitty” and threw some dry cat food at me…the seafood flavor we love.”

“Oh Frank,” said Mildred as she waddled a few steps behind Frank, “You always take such good care of us,” and the two ducks waddled toward Ms. McNulty who was yelling “here kitty, kitty,” while stepping in a fresh puddle of Frank’s abundant calling card.

Meanwhile, I was patting myself on the back for coming up with such an unbelievable but workable scheme to get rid of the ducks. All day, while my husband was at work, the ducks stayed away. I had found the perfect solution.

That night, my husband came home.

“Looks like you didn’t get rid of the ducks,” he said as he looked out at the back porch that I hadn’t checked in some time.”

“What do you mean?” I said.  “Those ducks were gone all day. I did get rid of them.”

I went to get the hose and Frank yelled to Mildred to hit the deck.

“Honey, we’re gonna have to ride this one out just for a little while until Ms. McNulty’s son leaves. It was just their luck that they had found a woman whose son made a habit of visiting his mom every Mother’s Day to take care of her garden and make sure no varmints were lurking about.

This time the ducks hunkered down and I gave up. “Let them stay,” I said. “At least bird seed is a helluva lot cheaper than canned cat food you feed the opossum you call Dude.”

But that evening, just after dawn, the ducks were gone and the opossum named Grandpa was just stopping by to enjoy a savory meal of cubed chicken in gravy, a can of food that cost me $.65 at the store.

“That’s ok,” I rationalized. “Better Dude and Grandpa eat it than it gets thrown out in the garbage, as the cats are only partial to the dry seafood flavored food,” and, I thought to myself, “they don’t leave behind soggy doo doo, at least, I haven’t seen any yet.”

Friday, May 10, 2013

Man with Horrendous Halitosis Becomes Mayor of Lincoln, Nebraska

Jonathan D. Lumquist, known to have the most horrendous case of halitosis in public service history, has nevertheless overcome the odds and was elected Mayor of Lincoln, Nebraska, last Tuesday. His opponent was said to have called him to congratulate him on the win even though the two were in the same room when the results were announced.

Lumquist had been a City councilman in Lincoln for several months last year before the other members on the council decided they could not stand his incredibly horrid breath, and decided to try and have him removed from the council. As a reason for the dismissal action, they cited poor personal hygiene habits. 

While Lumquist, a single man who never was able to find a partner who would stay with him for more than a few months, never denied that he had horrendous breath, nonetheless sued the City and his fellow councilmen. 

Lumquist not only won the case and a couple million dollars in punitive damages, but he decided to run for Mayor of Lincoln, to prove to his fellow councillians that poor personal hygiene is not a reason for voting someone out of office, and the Judge in the case agreed with Lumquist that if they could not stand the smell of his breath, they could communicate with him via cell phone. In fact, the Judge conducted all communications with Lumquist at trial via cell phone and found nothing burdensome about the arrangement.

As part of the settlement agreement, Lumquist would be sworn in as Mayor of Lincoln immediately. The City would be required to specially fit Lumquist’s office with anti-odor mechanisms, and anyone wishing to see the Mayor could do so by telephone or in person if, according to the edict, “they could stand the stench.”

Surprisingly, shortly after Mayor Lumquist received the $2 Million in punitive damages, a woman by the name of Misty Twisty became engaged to the Mayor. Miss Twisty is a former pole dancer on the outskirts of town and after hearing about Mr. Lumquist’s inability to find a wife, offered to marry him so long as the vows were exchanged via telephone. Mr. Lumquist was agreeable to those terms and the marriage has been set for two weeks from the date of his swearing in as Mayor.

Sources for Miss Twisty claim the Mayoral mansion is receiving a makeover whereby the bride and groom will have their own bedrooms. Consummation of the marriage has been discussed, but details have not yet been released to the press. However, it has been mentioned that a possible consummation via Skype could be legal under the circumstances.

Mayor Lumquist has mentioned spending a large portion of his $2 Million award on a possible cure for his disgusting breath, which many believe would force Ms. Twisty to walk away from the marriage. 

At any rate, the most important fact stemming from this case is that people can no longer be forced from their jobs due to smelly body parts. The International Union of Italian Garlic Mincers are particularly interested in the outcome of this case as they can no longer be discriminated against due to the odor emanating from their hands. In fact, it was the UIGM amicus brief filed during the proceedings that helped the Judge come to his decision in favor of the Plaintiff.

On his first day as Mayor, Mayor Lumquist issued an edict that asked his fellow civilians to stop sending him bottles of Listerine and Scope. 

“Don’t you think that if those products would help, I would never have had to sue in the first place?” said the newly elected Mayor while giving a speech during the third annual Limburger Cheese Festival in Lincoln which, by the way, has always been Lumquist’s favorite festival.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Letters from Summer Camp

Ed Note: Another reprise as I am going through some tough times. I swear to you, if I come up with anything else funny, I'll post a new story soon. Pinky swear. In the meantime, please enjoy. Summer camp time isn't that far away folks.

Hi Mommy,

Greetings from Camp Wigwam. Did you know how dangris this camp was befor you sent me her?
Timmy my bunk buddey got bit my a snake today but dont worey, he aint dying or nothin.

Tomorrow we get to go rock climbing at the gorge. I know you aint religos, but plese say a prayer, ok?

In case I cant say it later, I love you a lot, mom, and don’t worey, I aint that scared.

Yur son,

p.s. plese send me my Spiderman band-aids, plese.


Dear mommy,

I need you to answer me right back on this. What is a lesbeen? Molly says it is two ladies kissing and hugging like we saw our camp counselors, Marty and Jobeth doing in the woods yesterday.

Tomorrow they are having camp races contests and I have to hold Molly’s hand and hug her so we can win in the sack races. Does that make us lesbeens?

I am so confused now.

Alex, your daughter still, so don’t wory yet, just please write back before tomorrow.

p.s. In case lesbeen means what Molly says, don’t show this to daddy. He will freak out.


Dear Mrs. Washburton,

Please come at once to pick up your son, Harold. While we encourage the children to find their inner as well as outer strengths here at Camp Gitcheegoomee, Harold has taken this to the extreme. To him, inner strength seems to mean how much gas he can build up through eating copious amounts of baked beans and washing them down with a 2-litre bottle of soda, and then holding a “burpin/fart fest” as he calls it for his bunk mates after lights out.

We tried to work with him, but several of our counselors have become quite ill after spending the night in his cabin, and we’ve had to cancel a few activities due to being short-staffed. While we think the world of Harold, he just doesn’t seem to be fitting in as we would have liked.

Our sincerest apologies to you, Mrs. Washburton, as we understand from Harold that he has learned this unusual behavior from Mr. Washburton, who holds these contests quite regularly in your home.

Best Wishes,

Cordette Wood, Camp Administrator
Camp Gitcheegoomee