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Yet another Facebook article, I decided not to publish there for political reasons.

The latest Magic news; Last month the Amazing Randi finally outed himself.  Which his fans greeted with was sarcastic; “OMG!”  (I know most of you will never get that joke, but I just had to tell it anyway). The old curmudgeon complained that he hated to call himself by such an oxymoron term, at his age.  (Nothing right?  It’s a good joke, really!)

In related news; We’re all shocked to find out that David Copperfield isn’t gay, as he being sued for rape of a woman?  Oh, you can’t make this stuff up, folks.  I doubt that he will be convicted, who could believe such a story?

Here’s to keeping your hands on your own wand, guys!

I went into the basement, any child can tell you all secrets are stashed in the basement, someplace.  If they’re not, they should be!  In this case, it not so much an urban legend, but actually true.  I do keep my magic trunk in the basement.  And in the trunk are the assorted magic tricks of my collection.  I went there to retrieve the Hat Tear trick,  which is an old old party trick- and the box of 12 promised me that everything I needed, including patter and instructions was inside.  Well, it turned out to be a fine box full of less than attractive tissue paper, but no patter or instructions, as the outside box exclaims.

That must mean that those contents were GNUSTOed (transferred to) the Magic Book.  Every magician keeps one, you know?  Ask any 8 year old, or computer gamer!  Only it’s not pronounced book like any common book, it’s pronounced boo-ch.  That’s a German CH on the end.  Magic Boo-ch!  Every magician is required by Law of the Universe; to store His/Her Magic Boo-ch! in the cavity of a false wall or floor, in his basement.  Steal his boo-ch!  and you steal all his power, and he becomes your slave.  Taunting them with it, will cause them to beg and deal wildly if they can.  Reading their secrets out loud is actually known to make them cry and throw tantrums.  There is no greater power over the magician than his own notes, patter and staging ques, and dream tricks (real or imagined).   And no greater threat is ever made by an 8 year old than; “I will find your boo-ch! and learn ALL your tricks!”

Oh they mean it!  But they never succeed.  Why?  Because magicians aren’t suckers that keep all their tricks in one place, where any 8 year old can find them.  No, they are just a little bit brighter than an 8 year old, I’d say 10 is more their speed.

Well, this conjurer is a bit older than that.  About 4 decades older than that.  And just as you can imagine, a bit absent minded, and addle brained.  So, thinking like an 8 year old, I ran to the basement to find my Magic Boo-ch!  I can remember mine quite well.  It was deep navy blue hard bound book, with gold leaf edges, and gold Elvish letters on the cover (a personal touch).  It was only about 15 pages thick, used mostly to store instructions that were only read once before disposed of, into the book.  I had to find it to rediscover the secrets that are self working – no skill required – trick.  It didn’t say FOOL PROOF, now did it?  And this fool has lost but one thing in his whole life;  The Magic Boo-ch!  Wah!  I’ll have to check in the floor next time.

For those of you who don’t know, I am a frustrated showman.  I occasionally admit, particularly while drinking sasparilla, that I’m a HUGE Bob Hope fan.  And he might even be impressed by that if he weren’t so dead, (along with my career as a showman)?  However, I did hear that he voted McCain in the last election- anyhow.  Somehow Republicans never die.   Must of been feeling lucky that day?  McCain actually got to see Bob preform live in the Vietnam War.  “I was a prisoner back then. I had to watch or they would beat the crap out of me.”, he explained.

Anyway, these old radio shows of rapid fire zingers, stingers, wingers, singers, and dingers, tickle me deep, and are good therapy when your not feeling well.  My hobby though, may not be like yours..  I like to get in on the act, and write a few jokes.  What? Apparently anybody with an elementarty school education can do it- unless you’re on Facebook?

What worries a guy like me, is when your friends are so use to your Zingers, stingers, wingers, singers, and dingers, they stop realizing you’re serious this time.  I brought up the fact, that thanks to chemo, I can’t keep anything down.  Ok, go ahead and laugh, I’ll still be here when your done.  Just call me Chuckles, or upChuckles!  My worsted days, seem to be your funniest for some reason?

Anyway, I’ve written about 25 chemo jokes over the last month.  Got a good one this morning.  Recorded it, and spell checked it, ready to post it.  FACEBOOK IS LOST?  REALLY?  LOST?  401?  Well, that blows chunks!

(Steve: Pat Paulsen on my political blog)!

Sometimes we forget where we are?  This is the blog of Randy Smiley.  Me!  It’s about me, and my life, and my views. And sometimes I forget that this is my contact point with YOU, that helps keep you informed about the events of Me-ism.  Basically.  Why is this different than Facebook or Twitter?  Well because, Facebook and Twitter are like public offerings in the MALL, where this is more like brain droppings in a Newspaper, where the first assumption is that these are readers who genuinely know you, and can take the full sting of your arrows, and barbs. This is my property- I am the law here.

So what’s my point?  We’re well off it now.  My point was about starting Chemo Therapy.  That’s scary isn’t it? And this is about the light a fluffy issue of hair.  MY HAIR!  Hell yeah, I’m scared for my follicles man!  You may not have grown up when I did?  You may not have thick mattable strands, well into middle age like me?  Hair has been an important issue in my life, and in my lifetime.  Hair is where it’s at, even Chris Rock had to make a movie about it, and the black woman.  No, I’m not a black woman, I’m a lilly white dude.  That grew up during Beatlemania- the original Moptops!

Both of my parents worked.  So I was raised by teenage girls with whom there was nothing bigger than Beatles of the 1960′s.  So hair, hair, hair, hair, man hair, hair, was what it was all about.  And love songs!  Well, bell bottoms, tie die, and love songs.  The more money the Beatles made, the longer the hair got.  Beatles were a HAIR BAND.  And I was a boy.  A baby boy.  Who was forced to have a crewcut for the first 9 years of his life (4 of those in Beatlemania).  When the Beatles looked like Cousin It, I was finally parted on the side.  Not long, but it was an improvement, going in the right direction.

My father, the demander of the crewcut, never got to my Zeppelin stage and those flowing locks, yet featured on James May of TopGear.  That is a bit stuck in a rut, man.  The point is that metal heads, did shave it down in the well groomed late 1980′s and 1990′s.  I never got into 2000′s spikes and goo, back to parted on the side, off the collar, off the ears, good enough for me- though I like the original moptop look of a little over grown, quite a bit, still!

In recent years, I’ve added the beard and mustache.  A Van Dyke.  I tried the popular Goatee (circle beard), but suddenly realized when my next door neighbor turned up in one, that it’s the world’s laziest beard.  And I made 3 swipes with the razer, to make it a Van Dyke.  A devilish one, too.  Single, you know?  Must attract the right kind of women, after all.  So hair is still important STUFF, even to an old fart like me!  Even though, my Chemo Nurses call me Baby Boy- we know they’re just being nice, so we’ll come back and finish our treatment, rather than deciding to die.  They do sneaky things like that to you, there!

So I’ve started chemo.  And the first thing the nurse says to me (that struck a cord), is; “Hair Loss will be total.”  Total?  I’ll miss my eyebrows a bunch.  She responded; “You may not completely loose those.”  That was cheery, at least they’ll know when to duck.  However, the thought does go shoot through one’s head; “Deal off, measure me for a box please, instead!”  It’s just the thought of all that stubble.  I hated crew cuts.  I hated stubble, I was not meant to be a dryer filter.

Then the thought, I’m not a young man.  What color might grow back, when it comes back, if it comes back?  That damn box is looking better…

Guardian Art Print
Gockel, Alfred 13.75 in. x 39.375 in.
Buy at AllPosters.com
Framed   Mounted

Today, I look around and every single Liberal Blog, that I can think of is offering Alfred Gockel posters from All Posters, featuring the same one I picked out here.  I pride myself on thinking and going my own way.  I am not an echo chamber!  This site is PURE RANDYISM!

Now, I do understand that Gockel is the best selling modern artist in Europe.  And with good reason.  His colors are bold and lively, the themes are fluid and alive with activity.  You can’t view his work without some swing tune getting in your head, it’s just amazing.  But suddenly he’s over covered, everywhere, like an iPad!

Erh!  Besides, there aint no forkin money in selling posters, trust me!

I’m afraid my answer to that question this year, is that I’m not a very good fool at all!  I totally spaced out FOOL’S DAY, gave it no thought at all.  This is not like me?  I like to have a Fools Day prank, and a Halloween prank, every year.  My Halloween treat went down in flames thanks to my vandal, some time back.

The Halloween Treat is not so much a prank, as replacing my website with a tribute to Harry Houdini.   For those of you who don’t know, Harry lost his live on Halloween.  Once he spent so much of his later years, debunking mediums, he told his wife, that if it were possible to communicate from the grave, he would do so on (you guest it) Halloween.  However Harry was no fool either, it was more than communing with spirits that had to happen, at this even.  These were carefully guarded secrets, that his wife Bess took to her grave.  In 1936 Bess gave up the Seance,  saying “10 years is long enough to wait for any man”.  But unofficially the seance continues every Halloween.  To this day, I warn you all to have a healthy amount of skepticism toward any spiritual claims- in the church or otherwise.

On April 1st, I like to have a smart Fools Day prank, that can startle you a little- until you actually think about it.  This year though, nothing.  This is not like me!  Too much going on at once I’m afraid.  Well fools, as the Dodger’s historically say; there is always next year!

Have I recently had a “Come to Jesus moment?”, you might be asking?  Not at all, just got bored with babes!  And I thought YOU might enjoy some art that is seasonal from my favorite artist (Alfred Gockel).  Those sassy girls are still here somewhere?