Category: OCF

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 2023 on OCF

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I am going to try mightily to avoid politics tomorrow and the day after.  I’ve already written a political screed but I’ve scheduled it for 5 am December 26th.  Essentially, “Do not open until the day after Christmas!”

I’m going to look around and try to find some holiday related material to post or to link to.  Of course if the storm troopers swat my Christmas party I’ll probably defy my own edict and produce a screed from the back of the Bradley Assault Vehicle but short of that I’m going to try to take the high road this year.

OCF Update – 19DEC2023 – Where the Hell is photog!

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Apologies to all my readers.  The power, phones, internet and magic have been out in Dunwich for the last day and a half.  I’m just using an off-site computer to send this message.  I’ve angered Cthulhu with all my mockery and he has summoned the winds and boy oh boy did they clobber me.  A hundred and fifty foot White Pine landed across the upper driveway and took out part of the fence.  Try cutting through that with an 18″ triangle hand saw.   Well, I have some stuff to post (A Biden Carol – Part 2) but I hope the power and internet are back on soon at home so I can post it.

My apologies for the site lull.  I’ll have to join Elon Musk’s Starlink or something.

Cthulhu

Damn you Cthulhu!!!

Late Night photog – 3 – Cthulhu Fills In

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Cthulhu – Well we’re back.  And for those tuning in late I’m Cthulhu and I’m filling in for photog while he explains some things to the FBI in DC this week.  Well, we hope it’s just this week because, honestly, I do have better things to do than amuse his audience, I can tell you that.  But enough complaining.  We’ve got a great show tonight.  I’ve provided my own band this week.  I’ve got George Harrison, Roy Orbison and Tom Petty of the Stationary Wilburys and they’ll be singing their new song, “Come on Down Bob, it’s a Dry Heat.”  And later on, I’ll be talking to Sadaam Hussein about his new book, “They Weren’t Kidding!”

But now let’s give a big hand to that master of disaster, Henry Kissinger!  Hey Henry, how the hell are you?

Kissinger – Funny you should put it that way, Cthulhu.  It is a bit hot down there for my liking but I won’t bore you with my problems.  All in all, it’s been an interesting experience.  I’ve had a chance to catch up with Dick Nixon and some of the other boys from my salad days.  Good times.  But really my next assignment is what I’m interested in.

Cthulhu – What’s that Henry?

Kissinger – I’m doing contract work for the administration down there.  Apparently, Lucifer is short on strategic thinkers, at least modern ones.  Would you believe it, Metternich was still on the job down there.  He never got anything done but just kept repeating “Might through Right! Might through Right!”  Hopeless old bird.  I don’t know what people saw in him.

Cthulhu – What kind of strategic planning does Hell need?

Kissinger – Trust me.  Everyone needs planning.  Recently Black Rock reduced our ESG score because we hadn’t assigned pronouns for Baphomet on his infernal stationery and business cards.  Those guys are brutal and they just don’t give a crap who they hurt.  So, I busted my hump first day, right out of the chute and got BR to cut us a little slack until I had a chance to reform things.  Luckily for the Prince of Darkness I know where the bodies are buried at Black Rock so everything worked out.  But I tell you there’s no rest for the wicked.  Literally!

Cthulhu – Tell me about it!  Last month I was returning from laying waste to a stellar system inhabited by fungoid beetle beings.  You know, real eldritch Great Old Ones stuff.  And accidentally I tracked in a little plutonium from the finale.  Well somehow the EPA and the NRC got wind of it and now they’re all up in my business and they’re even threatening to pull my NGO status and shut down my cult.  Bureaucrats.

Kissinger – Well, I don’t want to interfere but my contract with Lucifer isn’t exclusive and I still have lots of friends in Washington.  If you’d like, I’ll straighten the thing out for you.

Cthulhu – Why, that’s mighty nice of you Henry.  How can I repay you?

Kissinger – Funny you should ask.  There’s one thing I could really use is a flunky down here.  I need someone with absolutely no scruples, an inveterate liar and low intelligence as a whipping boy in my dealing with his Satanic Majesty.

Cthulhu – You want Biden?

Kissinger – In a word, yes.  He’s not due down here for ten more years but if you’ve got the bandwidth, it would really help me out if he could be delivered in early 2025.

Cthulhu – Hey no problem.  I’m supposed to ease him out of his gig this year so consider it done.  But I tell you; dealing directly with him is no picnic.  Even I feel contaminated after dealing with that skunk.  Well, to each his own.

Kissinger – Thanks.  But I better be going.  I don’t want to be late for my morning lake of fire immersion.  If I’m last, I get stuck next to Hitler and Stalin and then it’s just bitch, bitch, bitch.

Cthulhu – Everybody, Henry Kissinger!  Give him a big Late-Night round of applause.

Late Night photog – 2

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photog – Welcome back.  While you were watching that fascinating laxative/ADHD commercial my guests were comparing notes on libel cases they had going on.  President Trump was discussing the slander that has been making the rounds on the cable channels and other cesspools of the mainstream media.  Mr. President, are the accusations and fantasies about you setting up a fascist dictatorship in your next term something you’d be likely to pursue through a lawsuit.

Donald Trump – Negative, photog.  All of that chatter is protected by the first amendment.  I’m a public figure.  They’re allowed to say almost anything.  I’m reduced to just waiting until I’m in office and then we’ll see what’s what.

Cthulhu – I disagree Donald.  You’re really limiting your options.

Donald Trump – What do you mean CMan?  How can I get around the prerogatives of the press?

Cthulhu – Well, for instance if someone blasphemed against my eldritch self, I’d start by forcing nightmares of cosmic horror to haunt his every sleeping and waking moment.  In these nightmares he would experience the sensation of his flesh being slowly eaten away by a corrosive bath of slime that started at his feet and worked its way up to his head.  Then when he hadn’t had a moment of peace for two weeks, I’d send a parasite to crawl into his ear one night and begin slowly to gnaw away at his brain.  Eventually only his skull would be left.  It’s a fan favorite I highly recommend.

Donald Trump – Well, that was my plan B.  But this is network tv and I don’t like to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak.  But tell me CMan, doesn’t the FBI come looking for you when you say these kinds of things in public like this?

Cthulhu – They used to Donald back in the good old days.  And it was very exciting because with all the diversity and inclusion that the FBI has been practicing the variety has been amazing.  They’ve even added capon to the menu.

photog – Capon?

Cthulhu – I think they call them post-op trans-women agents.  But potato/puhtata.  They’re wonderful with a tobacco sauce marinade.  I like them cold with beer so I pop them in the fridge for a day or so.  I just wait for them to stop screeching and I know they’re ready.  And then I put them in a bowl and watch some old favorites on TCM.  I’m a sucker for those old screwball comedies.  Or a good old adventure story like Gunga Din or Kim.  But they must be running out of capon, uh agents.  None have shown up for months.

Donald Trump – CMan, not being a Great Old One I don’t have the leeway you do with respect to the criminal justice system.  I’ve got to admit it sounds kind of exciting.  Well, not the cannibal stuff, but the brain eating bug thing.  That probably solves a lot of problems.  There are at least a half dozen or so prosecutors and judges that would really benefit from having about half their brains eaten away.

Cthulhu – I tell you what.  I’ll FedEx my copy of the Necronomicon with a post-it on the page with the spell for the brain bug and you see what you think.  No pressure.  I’ve got a website that’ll only charge you by the amount of brain that gets eaten.  You can stop whenever you want and you won’t even get a lot of spam bugging you for more business.

Donald Trump – That would be great CMan.  I doubt that any of them has more than a few ounces of brains anyway so I’m sure I’ll be able to swing the payments.  Although I will say, things have been kind of tight lately.  I had to sell off the gold toilet and downgrade to silver.

Cthulhu – Damn shame.  Sorry to hear it.  Well don’t worry.  I read the other day that you’ll be instituting a fascist dictatorship once you’re reelected.  I’m sure you’ll recoup your losses afterwards.

Donald Trump – Well, I hope so, but these things are tricky.  For every Franco there are probably ten Pol Pots so you never know.

photog – I’m sorry to break up this discussion but we’ve got to go to commercial.  Take it away, Study-Lax.

Damn You Millan!

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Little Evil Dog (LED) is now about four months old.  And still in the midst of a teething frenzy as her milk teeth are falling out.  Sometimes Camera Girl even bleeds from the bites of this insane little basset hound.  There has been some improvement.  Lately she only draws blood once a week rather than daily.  Everything is relative.

Today I noted that Camera Girl was watching the Dog Whisperer on Nat Geo.  It’s that Mexican guy Cesar Millan who trains dogs.  Of course, there is nothing more absurd than Camera Girl trying to train her dogs.  They completely dominate her and systematically ignore all her commands.  It would be accurate to say that they have trained her.

I tried to imagine her attempting to use Millan’s techniques but I know that she could never assert authority over the dogs.  It just completely clashes with her babying of these canines.  And yet with her children and grandchildren she has always been able to maintain good discipline.  I think it’s the fact that intellectually dogs are like permanent infants.  They never reach a point where they can be responsible for their misdeeds.  Training always has to be a matter of dominance.  And so, she forever treats them like babies.  Even if the animal outweighs her.

And so, the problem of Camera Girl’s bad dogs can never be fully solved.  I have in the past had to force obedience from some of the larger male dogs on my own just for safety’s sake but she will never be their boss.

But as I watched the episode that Camera Girl had on it occurred to me that a wife whisperer would be an interesting show.  If some guy developed a format where he had men come to him with wives who behaved poorly and he came up with a regimen for bringing them back in line.  And of course, it should be a humane program.  No shock collars or whips; nothing like that.  It could all be done using positive reinforcement.  Even a muzzle probably would be unnecessary, although I could see where it would make life better sometimes.

I’d guess it would work with treats and gifts used to encourage good behavior and verbal cues to point out bad behavior.  I started to think how I could work some of these things into my home life.  I could use small rewards like buying her a turtle or a lizard if she behaved herself.  But I realized that my house would probably overrun with pets within a few weeks.  And since there weren’t any other treats, I could provide or withhold, there wasn’t a way forward with my wife whisperer idea.  It was a dead end.

But I did watch how often food was the treat that Millan used to train his dogs.  How he used it to reinforce good behavior or withheld it to show displeasure.  And then some things came together in my mind.  Grocery patterns and other aspects of my life.  And I was aghast.  She has been using Millan’s program on me!  Tonight, we’re having a pork roast.  That only went on the menu after I performed the winter yard close-up yesterday.

To Serve Man, it’s a training book!

Thanksgiving 2023

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So, we’re hosting most of the family this year.  Camera Girl has outdone herself with five different pies and a twenty-five-pound turkey.  I predict that by the end of the feast I’ll be almost immobile.  But I’ll try to keep the grandkids amused with various holiday traditions.  At some point I will break out the “March of the Wooden Soldiers” and maybe “Gulliver’s Travels.”  Of course, both of these are 1930s vintage versions.

Hopefully we’ll head down to the first floor to play some pool and later on will come the pie and ice cream and coffee and some penny ante poker.  And I’ll ask my grandsons what’s going on at school and what’s happening around town.  I’m sure I’ll be brought up to date on whatever Pokémon acquisitions the youngest one has negotiated.  I’ve never really figured out what Pokémon actually is.  I assume it’s similar in intent to how we collected baseball cards as kids.  All I know is that there are thousands of different cards and some are “worth” thousands of dollars.  But to whom?

We’ve had our first dusting of snow.  It changed into rain in the morning and I went out with the shovel and cleared the slop off of the driveway.  And that’s necessary.  It freezes at night now and that slushy mess would have turned my driveways into skating rinks by tomorrow morning and that is something I don’t need on Thanksgiving.  So, we’ve broken the ice, so to speak, and have now transitioned into winter.  Of course, I’m way behind on my yard work.  And this makes it worse.  But it’s Thanksgiving so I’ve absolved myself of all blame and won’t think about it until Monday (or Tuesday).

It’s interesting.  Two recent international elections seem to be indicating a deep dissatisfaction with the Left’s incompetent economic and social programs.  Maybe 2024 will be more than just an American protest year.  Maybe the genie is out of the bottle and a whole lot of people are fed up with dysfunctional, incompetent, delusional Leftist ideas in general.  If it is we’ll see much more in the way of signs in the coming months.

Biden’s minions keep popping up in the Times and the Post announcing how the economy is turning a corner and how wonderful everything is becoming.  The latest hype is that inflation is reversing and now they have to be careful not to cause deflation.  The delusional nature of this nonsense is absurd.  It flies in the face of everyone’s knowledge of the cost of commodities in the recent past.  Everyone who has to run a household knows that everything is now vastly more expensive.  Things like cold-cuts have now become prohibitively expensive for many families.  Even staples like bread and vegetables have to be purchased with an eye out for sales.  But the Biden evangelists keep up the happy talk hoping that the stupid will buy into the lie.  As jaded as I’ve become with fraudulent elections, I’m still curious to see if a point might be reached where even the people faking the elections might think it was in their interest to get the Democrats out of power, if only out of fear that the economy might completely collapse under the weight of complete incompetence.

Well, for one day we won’t worry about the cost of food.  There are going to be pumpkin, apple, coconut custard, sweet potato and chocolate pudding pies with whipped cream and ice cream and who knows what other desserts.  There’s going to be turkey and sausage stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy.  And another whole list of side dishes that I can’t even remember, but I know there will be candied yams and two kinds of buttered rolls.  So, I have a lot to be thankful for.  I hope your holiday goes well and I will check in from time to time.

09NOV2023 – OCF Update – Our Long National Nightmare is Over

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“photog Unbound,” my favorite lost play of Aeschylus, ends with Zeus freeing me from Tartarus where all the food, even things like vanilla ice cream, is served with tartar sauce already added into it, a fate worse than death itself.

But now I’m free.  And in my absence, as usual, all hell has broken loose.  Elections have been bungled and pundits have drawn absurd conclusions from them and even more ridiculous people have been running around in circles declaring that the sky is falling.

In other words everything is quite normal for our world of the present day.  But it’s good to be back and I’ll try to collect my thoughts and put down in somewhat coherent quasi-English what I think about all this stuff.

So, yes, yes.  I’m back with my nose to the grindstone and my shoulder to the wheel (which combination, by the way, sounds quite uncomfortable).  And I’m bound to come up with something that I predict will include the letters a, s, d and f just because of carpal tunnel syndrome or some other repetitive motion injury of the hand syndrome that I am unaware of.

Good morning.

Cthulhu’s Letter to the Editor Goes Viral

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Cthulhu

Dunwich’s own First Selectman Cthulhu found himself at the center of a controversy when he was interviewed as part of the NY Times Biden/Trump presidential election poll.  At the conclusion of the interview the pollster asked the First Selectman how he would rate Joe Biden’s presidency on a scale of one to ten.  Instead of providing a number he stated that because of the absurd increase in the price of fast food he wanted to grill Biden over a slow fire and then devour him bit by bit as painfully as possible.

The pollster dutifully reported this threat to the Secret Service who alerted the FBI.  Once a warrant was fabricated, a breaching tank and a full retinue of agents was dispatched to perform a no-knock arrest.  Unfortunately for them breaching tank full of agents is just like stuffed lobster to Cthulhu.  After roasting the tank over his sacrificial fire for a few hours he popped the top and speared the contents and dipped them in cocktail sauce before crunching them down.  It was so good that he couldn’t resist a second course so he went on a road trip.  He strapped a big net about the size of a hot air balloon onto his back and headed for FBI headquarters.  Ripping the roof off the J. Edgar Hoover building he scooped up most of the upper echelons of the Bureau and began the trek home with his dinner crying and screaming for help.  Along the way crowds of Americans lined Cthulhu’s path cheering, pointing and mocking at the netted Stasi agents howling in fear.

Awakened from his nap by Dr. Jill, Biden considered launching a missile attack on the squid-headed dragon but what with the Ukraine debacle he thought better of it and instead called for a truce.  And during a gaffe-filled and incoherent address to the American public Biden seemed to imply that eating the FBI agents would be its own punishment for Cthulhu.  But he did thank Director Wray for his service and wished him luck during his upcoming and horribly painful enmunchening.  He finished off by relating the time he was stuck in the Cyclops’ cave and had to use wine to intoxicate the giant before blinding him and escaping.  No joke.

Unfortunately for the First Selectman eating all those FBI agents together was too much for his system and he developed a debilitating case of gout.  His left big toe swelled up to the size of a Volkswagen Beetle and he’s been limping around town like an old Beefeater.  But he’s learned his lesson and says he’s swearing off cocktail sauce.  From now on all of his FBI agents will be boiled, not roasted.

When the NYT pollster was reached for comment on the whole kerfuffle he only said, “Look we understand this is a heated election race but if we have to resort to devouring FBI agents every time, they respond to threats against a sitting president then the terrorists win.  I didn’t exactly know what he meant by that but the New York Times used to be a newspaper so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and sent his contact information to Cthulhu.  After all pan-fried pollster is considered the other, other white meat.

29OCT2023 – OCF Update

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Today will be a great celebration of grandchildishness so there will be a slow period on site.  And the next few days will be especially busy for me in the work world, an enormous amount of to-do-ing will envelop me.  I pray I’ll have the strength to avoid excessive honesty.

I’ve been watching the requisite number of horror movies that the holiday warrants.  Several I haven’t seen in decades.  What I noticed is that in the 1980s a quite generous dose of humor was added to the formula and that gave these movies their distinctive feel.  “Lost Boys,” “An American Werewolf in London,” John Carpenter’s “The Thing.”  It does feel like a time machine watching these old movies.  Even with the gore it feels like a sunnier world than our own.  I haven’t decided which, if any, I intend to review.  But I better hurry or they’ll already be behind the times.

So stay tuned.  The world is bound to dismay us soon and I’ll have something hyperbolic to say about it.

In keeping with the season some wolfbane from the garden.  Something with poison in it.