Social Media


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When you think of social media, what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Yes, you think of Facebook, Twitter, blogs such as Blogger and WordPress, and all those crazy, You Tube videos. I have to be honest – that You Tube stuff really scares me! It seems that nothing’s private any more. You can’t even get a little frisky with your wife in the back seat of your old Dodge, at that romantic spot you used to park at as kids. I should now. It happened to me a few weeks ago. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I do remember, lit up cell phones, and hysterical laughter. I then got two million You Tube hits, a premium spot at a pornography site called, “Amateur Couples Doing It,” and calls from proctologists telling me they could easily remove that huge wart on my posterior.

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Simple Observations – The Book

I have a book being published soon, called “Simple Observations.” It’s a humorous look at everything from: babies, to trips to the local Chinese buffet, to dogs, to a man’s first visit to a hair salon, to a vacation at the beach, to wedding receptions, to zombies. I’ve put together a few snippets from the book. You can also see them at my authors site at I appreciate any feedback on them, and I hope you enjoy them. Thanks for stopping by.

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Simple Observations – Camping

As I finished off the last, cold Coors Light beer within a hundred miles, I watched my wife with admiration, and a little envy as she unloaded and set up our tent in record time. Leaving my wife and son to unpack the last of the gear, I headed on a half-mile trek to what were called the communal showers and bathrooms.

I was soon to learn that communal meant, sitting on a wooden toilet in a shed-like structure, next to a man named Ed, from Boise, Idaho. Ed, while enjoying the great outdoors, had been subsisting for weeks on a diet of chili, baked beans and more chili. I didn’t even want to think about the showers.

On my return trip to our campsite I couldn’t help but notice the abundance of wildlife. This included many new and exotic species of birds. I was glad my wife had allowed me to pack my binoculars. Over the years, I had gradually become a fairly knowledgeable and enthusiastic bird watcher. Returning to camp and procuring my binoculars, I proceeded to view some of the large, strange birds. They were nothing like the birds which visited my back-yard bird feeder. These were large and black like common crows, but with smaller heads. Their feathers were not a dull black, but had an iridescent shine. Their wings were large and narrow. Instead of trilling or whistling they made a high buzzing sound, almost like a bee. As I continued to stare at the strange birds, and they rapidly approached our campsite, my concentration was interrupted by my wife. In a flat, calm voice she said,

“Sweetheart. I hate to ruin your reverie, but those aren’t birds, but rather mosquitoes. If you want to see the coming dawn, it may be a good idea to grab a stick and a few rocks, run for the tent, and pray we didn’t forget to pack the bug spray.”


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Aging with Dignity

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I have another birthday coming up, have been finding a few more gray hairs, and I’m beginning to think about the inevitable march of time, as one more candle is added to my cake. I’m not really afraid of being old – it’s the getting there that’s killing me. I’m actually looking forward to retiring someday, and ending years of working like an animal, worrying about bills, and getting my kids through college, When I do retire, I think I’m going to buy a thousand books, a few extra pairs of reading glasses, and then lay out in the sun until it bakes me to the color of a nice cup of hot chocolate. If someone says,

“You shouldn’t be out in the sun. It’s bad for you,” I’ll reply, “Listen, I’m seventy years old, and I already look like a giant raisin. What more can the sun do to me? Besides, this is the first time in forty years, I’ve actually been warm!”

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Smarter Than Me Phones


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I got up early this morning, tried to figure out my wife’s new smart phone, and realized something. I just moved one step down on the intelligence scale at the Dykie household. My wife is a nurse practitioner, my youngest son, just applied to medical school, and my eldest is highly successful in the business world – so, we obviously know, I’m far below them when it comes to measuring brain capacity. The rest of us: me, my two cats, Molly and Harper, and my dog, Chase, are stacked at the bottom, just above the fish in my pond. I’ve already accepted the fact that my cats are smarter than me. Chase and I are close, but I did get a formal education. To be fair, he used my Pay Pal account to purchase the amazing Rosetta Stone learning system, and has been studying a lot lately. Now, our delicately balanced system is in disarray with the addition of the latest in a technologically advanced, mobile computer and communication system. Continue reading

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Man Bun? I guess I just lost my appetite

Have any of you seen the latest fashion statement in men’s personal grooming involving his coiffure? I hadn’t until recently, when a friend asked me my thoughts on what’s being called a “Man Bun.” I immediately envisioned a new, delicious and decadent pastry, possibly available at my favorite coffee destination – Dunkin Donuts. My mouth started to water in anticipation of partaking of a baked item as large as a frisbee; or better yet, a trash can lid! Closing my eyes, I imagined an enormous, delectable concoction of flour, sugar and cinnamon, baked to a golden brown, and topped with sweet and sticky white icing.  Continue reading

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Easter Madness


Did you ever wonder how a celebration of the resurrection of Jesus, which is a foundation of the Christian faith, turned into egg-laying rabbits, gigantic baskets full of every candy known to man, and rampaging kids scouring parks for painted, hard-boiled eggs?

As a kid, Easter always meant worrying about lent. It’s the forty day period which starts on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter Sunday. During this time you’re supposed to pray, confess your sins in confession, repent, give to the poor and fast. As a child I was expected to give up one thing I liked for forty days, and yes my Mom knew I hated broccoli. Most of the time my Mom made me give up candy. We also had to give up meat on Fridays for six weeks. Do you know why we have Easter candy? I think it’s because after those forty days of fasting we’re all, half-starved to death and we desperately need to get our blood sugar levels up.

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Irish for a Day


I woke up early this morning to the sound of my alarm clock thinking, “This is going to be a fantastic day. I’ll put on a green tee-shirt, watch a festive parade, eat massive quantities of corned beef and cabbage, look for four-leaf clovers and pots of gold, and visit my local pub for a wee bit of ice-cold Guinness.” A few seconds later, as I hit the snooze button, I realized it was Tuesday, and I had to go to work. “Wow, this really sucks,” I thought to myself.

I’ve often wondered why Saint Patrick’s Day always seems to fall on a weekday. I also haven’t figured out how a solemn and religious Catholic holiday, which celebrates a famous Saint who helped bring Christianity to Ireland, turned into a day of excessive drinking, making a fool of yourself, and being carried home by your friends at two in the morning. Kind of crazy don’t you think?

I guess it’s all in good fun. With all the problems in the world, maybe we all need a day where we can all join together as one. Someone once told me that on Saint Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish. So, if you’re in a bar and you see a seven-foot tall African-American man with dreadlocks, wearing a bright green tee-shirt that says, “I’m from the Irish Hood,” do me a favor. Buy him a shot of Irish whiskey, or a pint of green beer, and say, “Patrick says hey.”

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Drinking…… and Looking Good




I’ve always been fascinated by the idea that the more we drink, the more attractive other people become to us. Do you really think this is true? Have you ever heard of what’s called “Beer Goggles,” where the consumption of alcohol causes diminished judgment, and makes physically unattractive persons appear handsome or beautiful? I’ve never been a big drinker, but I don’t believe people get better looking after a night of drinking. It’s more likely you just don’t care who you leave with.

I figure by 2:00 am in a dark smoky bar, with a blood alcohol level of at least .25 – even that eighty year old widow with the raspy voice, whose pouring down shots, and smoking cigars at the end of the bar is looking pretty hot.

Do you want to hear something really crazy? A study published in the “Journal of Alcohol and Alcoholism,” in the United Kingdom, says that drinkers may look better to sober people, when they’re imbibing alcohol! Researchers took photos of a group of people before they had a drink, after they had one drink, and then after they had a second drink. They then showed the snapshots to a separate group of sober students, and asked them to judge the research subjects for attractiveness. Results showed that the best looking people were the ones who had consumed at least one drink.

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Check This Out


Is it just me, or are supermarket checkout lines insane? Do you know that grocery stores spend millions of dollars a year hiring marketing geniuses to devise insidious ways to suck more money out of your pockets at checkout lines? It’s true. You may have noticed, there’s always at least twelve checkout lines, but only two or three are open at any one time.

This is done on purpose. Let me explain. Have you ever waited in line for what seems like hours under hot and glaring lights, until you’re ready to pass out from dehydration? When you finally approach the conveyor line, what’s the first thing you see? Yes, a cooler stocked with high-priced, cold, frosty, and delicious sodas, juices and bottled water. Diabolical, isn’t it.

After finishing off a twenty-four ounce bottle of tap water, and dumping six more in your cart, what do you see next? Right, shelves full of gum and candy. If you have kids with you, I hope you put blindfolds on them before you got to the checkouts, because the candy is opposite the conveyor, and only six inches off the ground. Oh, don’t forget the papers with aliens on them, diet books, people magazine, and the packs of batteries next to the gum. We always need more batteries, right? Wait a minute; is that super glue and toe-nail clippers?

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That’s Why We Call Them Pets


I was sitting in my recliner the other day watching TV, when my Cat, Harper, jumped up on the arm of the chair, and started purring. This was his normal signal that he wanted to be petted. I don’t know about your cat, but Harper has, not only a specific time-frame of approximately thirty seconds for petting and gentle scratching, but clearly noted areas of his body, which can and cannot be touched.


Rubbing of the top of his head, behind each ear, along the full length of his back, and continuing to the tip of his tail is okay. Any petting, rubbing or scratching anywhere else, and especially the belly is met with an ear-piercing meow, and the possible nipping of any fingers foolish enough to be close to his razor-sharp teeth.


After Harper’s usual thirty seconds, he got bored, turned to me with a dismissive glance, jumped off the chair, and went in search of food or a warm place to take a sixteen hour nap. His behavior got me thinking, and I called over my dog, Chase. It should be noted that Chase loves to be petted. Normally, all I have to do is raise my arm to about two feet off the ground with my palm facing down, and he will run over, and place the top of his head firmly against my palm. I decided to do a little research on dogs, and how much they enjoy human contact.

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