Indeed, I prefer to window shop as opposed to shopping for real. Unfortunately, window shopping does not work when buying groceries.

Today, I went to the market for a can of condensed milk but couldn’t find it. I finally asked a person stocking the shelves where I could locate it.

“I’ll see,” he said, disappearing around the corner.

He never came back, so I called on another employee.

She said, “I’ll see,” before walking away.

So, I decided to search a little more, sure that I had missed it the first time around. I had — it was on Aisle C.

with a clock
you can see
when
it stopped ticking

but
with the person
you cannot always
tell they are

broken

Why does emptiness feel so heavy?

“A Nevada ink slinger working on a daily paper was required to stand, rarely to sit, before the type case for long hours every day, six days a week, picking up individual pieces of type, called sorts, and arranging them in a composing stick to make lines of type. It is no wonder, with the long days and wearying drudgery attached to the job, that when a printer found himself with no more ‘p’s’ or ‘q’s’ – and a real need for ‘q’s’ or ‘ps’ – he was said to be ‘out of sorts.’” — Chic Di Francia, Master Printer, Virginia City, Nev.

The past two weeks have been a time of worry for the Comstock Chronicle and the Dayton Valley Dispatch newspapers.

For years, a company in Carson City printed the CC/DVD. Unfortunately for us, this printer sold its press to an outfit in West Virginia. Along with our two papers, all newspapers in Nevada must go out of state for printing; California, Utah, and Arizona.

In short: no newspaper will be printed in Nevada as of Thu., Feb. 3. It is a disheartening realization for those of us who value the feel, odor, and sight of a printed news page or have ink coursing their veins.

I suggested to my wife that we buy a printing press and go into business, filling this niche, but the idea went over like a ‘fart in church.’

Here is the difficulty, the CC/DVD is not even a ‘Mom and Pop operation,’ but more of a ‘Mom operation.’ Other small papers in our area have people who can drive to out-of-state places to pick up and return overnight, but this paper does not have this capability.

Worse yet, we are in an area where snow, as we had last December when 16-plus feet fell in the upper passes, crippling the roads for days, leaving people stuck on one side of the divide or the other, and bringing commerce to a halt. Larger outfits overcame this by flying their papers in, but many of us cannot afford such an expense.

Anyway, things are looking up as ‘Mom’ in this ‘Mom operation’ is purchasing a Xerox machine, reducing the newspaper size to 11-inches by 17-inches single-page newsprint, and hand-folding the pages. All this after finding a new building from which to begin printing.

It means a little more work, but it will be well worth the extra effort.

 

 

My Cousin Elmo says, “Inflation is nearly as high as Hunter Biden.”

When the man awoke, he was looking into the concerned face of a police officer. It took him a few extra seconds to understand that he was bleeding from a head injury.

“Do you remember what happened?” the officer asked.

“I picked up a rock that was painted black with yellow lettering that read, “Be the light.”

“What happened then?”

“A kid in a face mask asked if he could see it, so I handed it to him.”

“And then?”

“Then I saw a bright light when he hit me with it followed by darkness until I opened my eyes.”

“I heard you lost a couple of sheep this week,” she said.

“Yeah, I did, a cow, too,” the farmer returned, adding, “Gone, vanished into thin air like they never were there. And who told you?”

“Oh, a little birdie told me,” she smiled.

“No, really, who did you hear it from because I’ve only complained to two people about it, and one of those was the Sheriff?” he asked seriously.

“I told you,” she said. “I heard it from a little birdie. Honestly, I am telling you the truth.”

Then he saw her Pterodactyl.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Beer is now cheaper than gas. Drink, don’t drive.”

“Uh, Houston?” Baker asked, “Are you seeing this?”

“Affirmative,” Houston came back.

Baker was the Commander of Lunar Exploration One. His second in command, Wilson, was standing closer to the object inspecting it, and taking photographs.

They were inside the dark half of the moon, the beams of their helmets the only illumination available and then penetrating the black by only a few yards. Both men stopped, staring at what they had found in the immense darkness surrounding them.

“What does it look like to you?” Houston asked.

“It looks like my grandma’s refrigerator,” Baker answered. “But I don’t recognize the brand.”

“What is the brand?” Houston asked.

“Sierra, Mike, Echo, Golf,” Baker returned.

“It’s plugged in,” Wilson interjected.

“To what?” the voice from Houston asked.

“A rock,” Wilson answered. “Should I unplug it, see what happens?”

“Negative,” Houston said. “The brand is Italian.”

“Italian?”  Baker asked as if his hearing had deceived him.

“Yeah, Williams, in Flight Control has one,” Houston returned.

“Roger,” Baker stated, “I think we should open it, see what’s inside.”

“Standby,” Houston instructed.

The two lunar explorers stood silently, looking at the refrigerator than at one another, when Wilson asked, “You don’t think the Russians are playing a trick of some sort, do you, Cap’n?”

Baker didn’t get a chance to respond as Houston returned, “Roger, L-E One. Go ahead and open it.”

Wilson was standing in front of the refrigerator and was closest to the handle, so he grabbed it. Baker stood on the other side in case something should escape from it.

The inside light came on as the door opened. Wilson fully extended the door then came around to look inside with Baker.

Not only was there a bright yellow bulb emitting light, but the back of the refrigerator was also teeming with flora and fauna. Green leaves and grasses waved in a slight breeze as oversized insects buzzed back and forth.

There was a long silence as Wilson and Baker watched. Houston remained quiet as well.

Then a low growl came from someplace in the back of the refrigerator. No sooner had it faded than a large reptilian eye appeared, blinking, studying the two astronauts.

Wilson slapped the refrigerator shut and backed away.

“What the hell was that thing?” Baker asked.

“A velociraptor,” Wilson panted in fright.

The refrigerator shook and thumped violently for about fifteen seconds as the pair backed away from it and towards the Lunar Crawler. Then it went silent.

By then, the astronauts were aboard the crawler and making way for the relative safety of their Lander.

“You know I don’t like crowds,” Les complained to his supervisor.

“Sorry, but you got the short straw, dude,” the other man said.

Thousands of people gathered in Las Vegas for the tech show, and Les was one of them. He did his four hours at his companies booth, then retreated to the privacy of his hotel room.

Day three and Les found himself restless. So he wandered about the convention floor, looking at the sights and checking out many of the new electronic gadgets on display.

That evening instead of staying in his room, Les visited one of the after-hour parties. While he was still uncomfortable in the crowded room, he did order a rum-and-coke, forcing himself to nurse the drink as he sat at the bar.

He watched and listened as people gabbed and chatted up one another.

Sheila had spent the day as a display model for the convention. She was hungry, and instead of going home, she decided to go to an after-hours party.

“Perhaps I’ll get lucky,” she thought.

Les was getting ready to leave when Sheila stepped up to the bar next to him and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Les answered. “By all means, sit.”

Before he knew it, they were chatting and laughing, and he was buying their drinks. It was something Les had not enjoyed since his early college years.

“Wanna come back to my place?” Sheila asked. “I only live a couple of blocks from here.”

Not believing his good luck, Les sprang at the idea, saying, “I’d love to.”

Sheila quickly disappeared, saying she needed to slip into something more comfortable. As Les waited, he studied her unusual stereo equipment.

“Interesting,” he said. “Ham radio?”

Hearing her step into the living room, he turned to find Sheila standing in her bedroom doorway naked, smiling at him.

“Care to join me?” she asked.

Though Les tried to remain calm, he found himself fumbling to get undressed as she stepped back into the room. He could hear her pulling back the covers, exciting him even more.

“Where would you like to start?” Sheila asked.

“I have no idea,” Les blushed.

“Well, let’s start with a little ’69,’” she responded as she pushed Les back onto the bed.

He reached up and cupped her butt cheeks in his hands and greedily pulled her to himself. Les didn’t even have the chance to scream before his head disappeared into the sharp-toothed, eel-like maw.

A few minutes later, Sheila leaned back against a pillow, so full that she figured she wouldn’t need to feed again for another Earth month. That would give her time enough to clean up her mess and finish setting up the communication equipment to contact her home planet of Venus.