Madame, Your Banana is Mocking my Mustache!

Here is a photo of my very manly mustache.My manly mustache

Here is a photo of a banana I found at a local culinary establishment.1010131526

See what I mean?

Both the employees on duty denied having so decorated the aforementioned banana; and tentatively blamed the deed on the night shift (actually afternoon to evening) employee. When said – accused – night shift employee arrived – which happened fortuitously and not by dint of my waiting until – she denied having done so; she explained it was done by a customer whilst the employee was assembling the customer’s order. Everyone involved laughed, and I rather enjoyed it.

Still, upon reflection, I had two – no, three – thoughts on the subject.

One. Goofy things do happen to me. Probably not exclusively, but I find goofy things are the spice of life. (Except when I have to replace an engine or grow another arm.)

Two. My response – which I pressed into service as the title of this essay – sounds like either beginning or punch line of an old Monty Python routine.

Three. I need to record this for blog world posterity. And throw in a couple of other goofy bits I have either encountered, endured or invented along the way.

Once upon a time, when introduced to someone I had not previously met, my standard self-introduction was “Hello. Despite what you may have heard, that story about me, the twin sixteen year old blondes, the unicycle, the chocolate cream pie and the stuffed emu has been blown completely out of proportion. (I have since ended doing so, as the twins have filed for a protection order, I have been banned from several bakeries and the Emu Liberation League (ELL) has threatened a defamation suite.)


Once (and this is for real) I quipped some clever remark in response to a query; the person with whom I was speaking stopped, looked at me and said “That sounded like Groucho Marx.” I was so flattered I nearly cried. On the other hand, a woman with whom I was tenuously acquainted said I reminded her of Freddy Krueger, but without the warmth or charm. One cannot win them all.

I once got a laugh from the late Red Buttons. He was coming through the airport, I chanced upon him in the inspection area. So I walked up to him and said (with my standard dead pan delivery) “Excuse me sir; you look just a gentleman named “Henry Phyfe”. (For the youngsters, that was a single season TV show starring Mr. Buttons in the later 1960s. It was fun, but probably too cerebral for the average TV viewer of the time.) Mr. Buttons laughed out loud and said, “You can’t remember that!”

In some ways, I have devoted a good deal of my life to silliness. But I’m pretty good at it.

Maxime ineptias!


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Filed under Civilization, Life in General, Silliness

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