For years now people have begged the Shmata Queen and I to share a picture from our first meeting. Ask and you shall receive. Behold Jack and the Shmata Queen.
Approximately 13.5 years ago the Shmata Queen and I were members of a message board. On this particular board there were numerous discussions about politics and history. Well the queen and I were active participants in these discussions and soon found out that we held minority opinions on many of the topics.
Since we are both very shy people we soon found ourselves engaged in semi heated discussions with the denizens of the board. And because it was conducted here in cyberspace some of these discussions were not exceptionally pleasant.
Because I am a gentlemen of the finest order, or something along those lines I used to tell the queen to stand behind me and I’d challenge any and all to engage me in written fisticuffs. Who said that chivalry is dead.
I’d be negligent if I didn’t point out that the queen hasn’t any problem speaking up for herself and is quite capable of handling these situations. But since I type twice as fast as she does I found myself in the middle of things more frequently. Side note of useless trivia, she speaks twice as fast as I do. Man, that woman can spit the words out.
Many of those who disagreed with us fell into the category of dumb and stupid with a healthy dose of ignorant. Now I know that it is not nice to say that, but really I was surprised at how little they knew of the world around them and of historical events. They must have slept through school or something.
Still, you’d think that they would have been able to compensate by using the research capabilities provided by the net. That was rarely the case. I don’t know if they didn’t do it because of laziness or ignorance, but it didn’t happen much.
Anyway, after a few years of this nonsense a number of them grew irritated and petitioned to have my account suspended. Their petition was granted and I was told that I had to take a time out.
After a short consultation the queen and I decided that it would be fun to create a fake identity for me. So we created a new account for a man named Sweetcheeks. Good old Sweetcheeks, I really liked that guy. Since I have a rather distinct style of writing I had to work hard to make sure that no one caught on.
Sweetcheeks might have described it a bit like this, “Ah like talhking to peoeple becuz you rally lern things that mite halp you.”
It was intentionally over the top and ridiculous. But for some reason people took to Sweetcheeks probably because he was so sweet and innocent where I am innocent but not at all sweet. That is part of the job of being a curmudgeon, you give up on sweetness.
Old Sweetcheeks hung around for a long while, but eventually he was found out. This blog started somewhere around that time. As I have written before it began on a bit of whim, but it was also because I was tired of being told what I could write about and how I could respond to those I disagreed with.
Kind of funny to think that had they been more tolerant I might not ever have decided to begin blogging.
That wacky woman known as the Shmata Queen complained to me that she doesn’t have enough time in the day to get everything done. Now I am sorely tempted to provide you with a list of the stuff the crazy chick is determined to do because you would have a greater appreciation for this post.
It could be fun to poke about and mention that you have never seen someone take such care to make lists of tasks to do, or should I say that you have never seen someone smile so big for crossing off items on her list.
I suppose that now is as good a time as any to say that any time I get a hold of her calendar I make a point of playing with it. Little subtle things, like tearing out random days or weeks. I can’t decide if it is more fun removing pages than manipulating appointments. Nothing like creating more tasks.
Sorry, I have a very juvenile sense of humor. I even pull on her pigtails.
During a recent conversation the old broad (she is not real fond of that term, but I use it endearingly) was explaining to me that no matter how organized she is she just can’t get everything done. Reminded me of that commercial for Enjoli, you know the whole bring home the bacon thing.
Anyhoo I sat there listening as she discussed the Fall of her discontent and made the apparently silly suggestion that she learn how to sit down and relax. Jack was a bad boy. She likes to be goal oriented and she enjoys all that kind of running around.
I think that one day we’ll have to arrange to lock her in a room with nothing to do and see how long she lasts. Maybe if she is lucky we’ll let Uncle Noah hang out with her for a while. Now that could be real entertainment.
In the meantime I better find a way to disguise myself because that wacky chick is going to have my head when she sees this post, or at least think of having it. Usually I escape the punishment, but that is only because I come prepared for battle.
I think that I’ll end this now while I am still ahead.
Some of the 17 long time readers of this blog are aware that the president of my fan club is the semi-retired, no longer twenty-something blogger known as the Shmata Queen. Having fled the land of the burning river for sunnier parts and a brighter future she has taken it upon herself to serve not just as president but chief critic of the blog.
About once a week I receive extensive feedback about the content of this blog. She has no compunction in telling Old Jack that she finds the videos to be boring, doesn’t like large chunks of my music and wishes that I watched better movies.
Most recently she has taken it upon herself to tell me that she is bored with posts about basketball. It doesn’t matter whether it is about the NBA, NCAA or my pick-up games, she says that she is done with it. I told her that she is a cranky old broad and that she ought to loosen the top button of those jeans, because surely that is what affecting her judgment.
And as you might expect I was forced to duck repeatedly. The woman is a master of flinging that heavy, oversized handbag with great force at me. Most of the time she strives to hit my head, but thanks to my pick-up basketball game I am still nimble enough to avoid her strikes.
In fact there was one time where she swung so hard she spun herself in a complete circle and it was only because of my chivalric catch that she didn’t land on her backside. Of course I should add that I wish that I had that whole on thing on camera because America’s Funniest Home Videos would surely have given me ten grand for it.
You know part of the beauty of the queen is that she is a colorful old gal who never ceases to provide me with an unending stream of blog fodder. There are a number of stories that I always keep a rough draft of because you just never know when they might be applicable.
And now if you’ll excuse me I think that I better go purchase some body armor because when she sees this little ditty she’ll most likely do her Mama Bear impression. And don’t let her fool you, her teeth are sharp and she does have a nasty bite. 😉
Jack And The Missionary
Bruce Lee Vs Kareem Abdul Jabbar
Horrors- I Missed Thomas Crapper Day
A Play In Three Acts
Jack Versus The Hacker
Where Are You From?
The Shmata Queen & The Beach
How Jack Handles Writer’s Block
The Shmata Queen and I have an ongoing debate about whether she grew up near The beach. The premise is based upon the misguided belief that a Great Lake constitutes a beach.
Technically I suppose that you could try and make the case that a lake offers a beach.
- The shore of a body of water, especially when sandy or pebbly.
- The sand or pebbles on a shore.
- The zone above the water line at a shore of a body of water, marked by an accumulation of sand, stone, or gravel that has been deposited by the tide or waves.
I’d disagree with this and say that you can claim waterfront property, but a real beach needs the ocean. A real beach has sand that is created by the pounding of the Saltwater waves and not those of a sinking ship (Edmund Fitzgerald) Please note that all maritime questions can be directed to our resident sailor David. You can find him at Treppenwitz.
That concludes this less than serious post. Hog farmers, sailors, math geeks, art majors and business people are dismissed.