The Holy Grail Press
Proudly Made On Earth By Earthlings
Word of the Every So Often
gimcrackery: (adj.) cheap, showy, and often useless items; deceptively attractive; something that’s flashy or fancy, but lacks real substance, like an ornate hood ornament on a Pinto; a clockwork orange. All of the candidates’ promises turned out to be nothing more than gimcrackery.
The Almost Daily
Today is National Zipper Day! It’s hard to imagine something as iconic as a zipper ever not existing. But it really wasn’t that long ago. It was on this day in 1913 that Gideon Sundback received a patent for what he called a “hook-less fastener.” Ten years later, the Benjamin Franklin Goodrich company coined the onomatopoetic word “zipper” for Sundback’s fastener when they used it on their rubber boots. Zippers quickly spread, from tobacco pouches to military uniforms to children’s clothes to Levis in 1947. And lest we forget, according to the British Journal of Urology International (and they should know), zippers are the most common cause of serious genital injury, not that there’s really such a thing as an unserious genital injury. Over 17,000 people a year in the United States alone are injured with zippers. Mostly men.
Cartoon of the Week
The Emperor shows his appreciation for being told he was naked.
Stuff
A First Class Funeral
We gave Uncle Adolf one helluva send-off.
The ladies that had known him
before he was ninety
just had a wonderful time crying,
and we all got to take our turns
walking by and wondering
how in just three days
Uncle Adolf could be made to look
like somebody no one knew.
Father Bauer did it up, too.
All in starched white,
not the ordinary Sunday stuff,
swinging a fresh supply of incense
and saying the very best of prayers.
He had practiced.
Even the Altar Boys were top rate.
You could tell it wasn’t the first
really first class funeral they’d ever done.
It’s those little things,
like not dropping the Holy Water
just short of the Father’s reach,
while everyone looks on in terror,
and then having to go running back for more
that they’ll probably get out of the drinking fountain
because they’re too scared
to touch the real stuff
without having been properly blessed themselves.
And they didn’t even sit on their heels
when the Father dragged on,
saying wonderful things about Uncle Adolf,
who wasn’t even there,
because we had all decided
that the funeral home had goofed
and sent over the wrong guy,
but no one was brave enough to admit it,
at least not out loud, that is.
Even the pallbearers were a class act.
No one let on for a moment
that the casket was really heavy,
undoubtedly the deluxe model.
Made to last.
And not a one stumbled
while carrying that casket to the car,
where they slid it in without a hitch.
No broken feet.
No hernias.
No busted lid that refused to stay shut.
And I had this really wild idea,
that at the very same time across town
there was this other funeral
where Uncle Adolf really was,
and no one there would admit
that the funeral home goofed, either.
But somewhere on the way
both lines of cars would get all mixed up,
and we’d get the right coffin
under the right headstone after all.
But it never happened.
At least, not in real life.
Someone had called a cop
who knew the right way
to the right graveyard
and never once acted the least bit concerned
about getting lost.
Contact Us
Comments? Criticism? Insults? Money Orders?
Earl, our editor, wants to hear from you!
(But that doesn't necessarily mean you'll hear from him.)
Send your messages or bank account information to: