I Just Love Getting the Boot

Really, being booted had lost its appeal. There was a time though, when I rather relished the fact that I had gotten the boot. It made me feel important.

 I know what you're thinking - sounds too paradoxical for a man who loves to be a part of something. But let me explain if you will. In the past, I had my share of dead-end jobs and hopeless occupation. Although I felt I did my best each time, went above and beyond the call of duty, deep down inside though, maybe subconsciously, I fought to get out. Subconsciously, I'd do whatever it was I did to be forced out.

 As a matter of fact, I had been fired at gunpoint from one job. Another, I subconsciously fucked up the company's entire Information System and was escorted out of their building by three-armed guards. But each time I got the boot, the next time I would get something better. Instead of flipping burgers I was flipping coins. Instead of laying bricks I was laying down laws. Instead of running from a country I was running one - a small one but a country nevertheless.

Today, I have a good job. After getting through boot camp, I'm now the Commander-In-Chief. Hope I don't fuck up the accounting system on this one. Somebody has to finally remain accountable.

Thanks for listening, Boot-Camp Ricky

Just the Facts, Ma'am!

In the 1400's a law was set forth that a man was not allowed to beat his wife with a stick thicker than his thumb. Hence we have "the rule of thumb ".

Many years ago in Scotland, a new game was invented. It was ruled

"Gentlemen Only...Ladies Forbidden"...and thus the word GOLF entered into the English language.

The first couple to be shown in bed together on prime time TV was Fred and Wilma Flintstone

Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than the US Treasury .

Men can read smaller print than women can; women can hear better.

Coca-Cola was originally green.

It is impossible to lick your elbow.

The average number of people airborne over the US any given hour: 61,000

Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.

The first novel ever written on a typewriter: Tom Sawyer

Each king in a deck of playing cards represents a great king in history:

Spades - King David

Hearts - Charlemagne

Clubs - Alexander, the Great

Diamonds - Julius Caesar

111,111,111 x 111,111,111= 12,345,678,987,654,321

If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes.

Q. If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find the letter "A"?

A. One thousand

Q. What do bullet-proof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, and laser printers all have in common?

A. All invented by women.

Q. What is the only food that doesn't spoil?

A. Honey

In Shakespeare 's time, mattresses were secured on bed frames by ropes. When you pulled on the ropes the mattress tightened, making the bedfirmer to sleep on. Hence the phrase......... "goodnight, sleep tight."

It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the honey month, which we know today as the honeymoon.

In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts... So in old England, when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them "Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down." It's where we get the phrase "mind your P's and Q's"

Many years ago in England, pub frequenters had a whistle baked into the rim, or handle, of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistle to get some service. "Wet your whistle" is the phrase inspired by this practice.

 Don't delete this just because it looks weird. Believe it or not, you can read it..........

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg

The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer bein the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Ricky Fico was born in Chicago at Loretta Hospital and he thinks his mother may have attended his birth but isn't quite sure...

People, Get a Frickin' Grip! (from my archives)

Forgive me if I ramble off the written page but I've had it up to here with all the nonsense lately; so much in fact, that I feel like packing up my hyena and heading off to the Ozarks or someplace like it. Really, I'm so darned tired of all the "he said, she saids," and the shit-loads of grist for the rumor mills, that I wouldn't mind taking a seven year nap in the Himalayas - just to clear my head. And maybe my bank account too.

Lately, and excuse me if I speak out of turn, but my head's taken a beating not only from the tabloids and the bow-tied pundits with their fancy Harvard diplomas but also from the average Joe-blow on the street, who, encouraged by peer pressure had joined the fray and is now speaking as if he's been everywhere and seen everything, including Monica Lewinski's"Presidential Seal Of Approval." And not only that, he claims that one of his neighbors, Jim Neighbors I think, is gay and is now dating some guy who supposedly, invented the Polygraph. And if that's not enough, there's word on the street that a well-known and busty starlet is going to set up a nudist camp in downtown Anchorage. An attempt to make it resemble Las Vegas . . . Put a knee on it, dear!

And what the frock is going on with all these so-called reality shows? If this is what you call reality then the Fruit Loops I'd been eating for the last twenty years must've been laced with LSD. Confirms my theory. "It's the Fruit Loops, honey!"

And then we got The Rosie and The Donald going back and forth like two six year-olds in the schoolyard. What the hell is this world coming too - all over the news, the talk shows - Mother Mary and Joseph, give me a rest, please. And The Donald, who in all intents and purposes is surely the "epitome of arrogance" had no right denigrating The Rosie because of her weight, making comments like "She's a slob, inside and out." "I'm going take money out of her fat-ass pockets." He had done himself a dis-service. Get a frickin' grip!

Sure, we may sometimes need a diversion from the harsh realities we face day-in and day-out but put the national focus on the silly-assed dalliances of The Rosie, The Donald, the Lohan kid, The Paris and all the other camera-loving, "office water-cooler spurring" Andy Warhol acolytes is beyond reproach. Get a frickin' grip.

For those who know me know that I am a peace-loving realist whose acid-popping days went the way of the horse and carriage but let me say this: If this nonsense doesn't stop I am going to summon the cavalry and put an end to it myself. Acting like six year-olds in the schoolyard, where is the maturity? Nanya, nanya, and nanya . . .my house is bigger than yours. Nanya, nanya, and nanya . . .my house is bigger than yours. Nanya, nanya, nanya . . . Barbara doesn't like you, she only likes me.  Get a frickin' grip.

You know, ever since I was exiled from Gomorrah I feel as though the world is nothing more than a giant Ouija Board . . . oh, somedays a monopoly board. One big fricking game! But it's not.

Oh brother, oh sister - I may run for President or something. Well, why not? I heard that he has a bad leg. I once ran for the Mayor. I think he had the flu or something.

 By Ricky J. Fico (aka Dan Landers)

The Fallen Window Washer

Last week, there was a tragic accident in Chicago. A window-washer fell from the sixty-third floor of a high rise to his death. He had only been in this country less than a month. He didn't speak any English. He probably came here from Mexico to make a better life for himself. Not much was known about this man except that he was a hard worker.


Tragically, there was not much left of the man as the fall had splattered his body across the pavement. The police had a very hard time identifying the poor man as he had no identification papers, nothing. His two co-workers, Stan and Peter, who had come from Poland, were of not much help either in helping to identify the poor guy..


The police interviewed Stan and Peter. They asked, "Did he have any tattoos?"


Stan: "No, not that we could see."


Policeman 1: "Did he have any distinguishing marks? Scars, birth marks, anything like that?"


Peter: "No, I don't think so."


Policeman: 2: "Was there anything out of the ordinary about the man? For example, did he have only one eye. . . perhaps, he was a missing a finger. Is there anything?"


"Wait a minute," Stan said. "There was something. . . He had two assholes."


"Yeah, that's right," Peter added. "He had two assholes."


Policeman 1: "What do you mean he had two assholes?"


Stan: "Well, everyday after finishing it up, we'd go across the street to the tavern for a few beers and everybody in there would say, 'Here comes that Mexican with the two assholes.'"

Disclaimer: This is humor and in no way, shape or form am I a xenophoboic nor biased against any race, creed or nationality. My only bias is ignorance. Thank you and have a great day

Why is Everybody Breaking Up?

What the hell's going on? Although I give advice to those from every walk and run of life, I either missed a whole lot of folks or they decided not to heed my counsel. And this worries me.

 The divorce courts are going to be getting a lot of business in the near future, I'll tell you that much. Lately, I'd been hearing about a lot of breakups -  and it's really bothering me if you really want to know the truth. I'm a caring guy and to learn that all these people are breaking up with their loved ones is causing me to do headstands on a bed of nails.  Especially when it's probably over matters that could've been easily resolved. Where's the dignity? Where's the dedication? Whatever happened to "Till death do us part!"

Yesterday I was at the mall when I walked by a little old lady, who was talking to her husband on her cell phone.

She was saying, "Honey, I am going to buy that new mini skirt that I was telling you about."

A few seconds later, she started to talk louder and then she began to scream.

"We're breaking up. Did you hear me? We're breaking up!"

Jesus, I thought, just because the husband didn't like the idea of his wife wearing a mini skirt should be no reason for her to break up with him. They'd probably been married a good 49 years too.

Later, I was at the grocery store when I passed this guy talking to his wife on his cell phone.

"Honey, what do you want to have for dinner tonight? . . . . Liver? No way, not again. . . .  We're breaking up! . . .  Did you hear me? We're breaking up . . .

Jesus, divorce over liver, gimme a frickin' break!

And then I'm on my way home, when at a stoplight, this guy next to me who is a priest, is yelling in his cell phone:

"Did you hear me, Mother Superior? Did you hear me . . . We're breaking up!"

Jesus, nothing is sacred anymore.

Oh wait, there's a news bulletin: "The last few days, there's been UFOs circling the earth, causing interference between satellites and  electronic devices throughout the world."

Well, that's nice but still, I think that the increase in the break-ups between the earth's inhabitants is more worthy of a breaking news report than UFOs circling the earth.  I just hope that news reporter person is not thinking about breaking up with her husband.

By Rick J. Fico aka Dan (The Man) Landers

Singled Out

I walked into a bar the other day and say,  "Excuse me, I'd like a pint of beer, well, make it a root beer... I forgot, I just had a root canal. "

The bartender serves the root beer and says,  "That'll be four dollars." I pull out a twenty-dollar bill and hand it to the bartender.

"Sorry, sir," the bartender says, "but I can't accept that."

I pull out a ten-dollar bill and the bartender rejects my money again. "What's going on here?" I ask.

Pointing to a neon sign, the bartender explains, "This is a Singles Bar."

Seeing that I didn't have any singles, on my way out  I picked up one of the busty brunettes who was ogling me the entire time and we headed over to "Anita Nichol's" on the corner, in which  I gave its owner a nickel  every time I asked her name.

Ah, sometimes I wish were a banker instead of this "Walden Ponded" world-renowned advice guru who often forgets to put on his pants before heading out.

Thanks for listening,

R.J. Fico

Sponsored by Away2LasVegas.com 

Corporal Pun-ishment!

As I was sitting there under that old Weeping Willow next to the pond, with nothing else to do but contemplate the heavens above, along with my intermittent perusal of the morning daily, delivered to me earlier by a cheery-eyed newspaper boy on a hopped-up moped, I had the chance to share a few chuckles with the occasional squirrel and mallard duck that crossed my path.

Amongst the harder news were these reports:

"A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it."

"A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital. When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was doing a nurse said 'No change yet' "

"There was a sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center that said 'Keep off the Grass'."

"The butcher backed up into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work."

"A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was ticketed for littering."

"A midget fortune-teller escaped from prison yesterday. Beware, there's a small medium at large."

"The man who fell into an upholstery machine yesterday is fully recovered."

"The man who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran."

"A thief who stole from the Chicago blood bank was caught red-handed."

"A thief who stole a calendar from the Michigan Avenue Walgreen's got twelve months."