We Have A Winner

This year's winner of the "Not Even Ming Could Come Up With Something This Stupid Award" is Chiaobama. All you need do is google chiaobama and the websight you get will afford you the opportunity to order either or both the Happy and/or the Cheerful Obama. Water the statue's head and grow green chia on it.

Walgreen's has already recalled this gem of poor taste but it's still available on Amazon.com, the website cited above and is advertised on television.

Now that Billy Mays has gone, standards have become yet lower and much like the old Batman T.V. series it's hard to make fun of something that seems to satirize itself.

A Clarion Call To Better Health

The virtuous Ming has no desire to subsidize universal health care for lazy, loutish, lackaday losers who refuse to preserve their health.

Most people can barely waddle into supermarkets to buy their extra large bags of Cheese Doodles after prying themselves out of their autos with spatulas. They endlessly scheme until awarded the much sought after handicap sticker so as to avoid walking those extra ten paces.

They compound the effects of their sloth by shoving anything that doesn't move into their cake holes after which they demand the Government pay for palliations of the degenerative medical conditions that their lifestyles have earned them.

Let them instead take a leaf from Ming's book. Subway turnstile jumping can keep one agile. Running builds stamina when others call, "stop thief". Eating only what fits into your pockets at the hors d'oeuvres table from the parties you crash or the yummies you scrounge from your favorite dumpster will help keep you svelte and save you mucho coin besides.

Unfortunately, the only way most people will ever exert themselves while avoiding snacks is if they are placed on a treadmill with a dollar bill just out of reach.

A Pickpocket's Paradise

Ming ran across the televised U.S. Open Golf Tournament and wonders why those crowds are willing to stand around in the rain to glean a very imperfect view of their dubious heroes doing very convoluted but also very trivial peregrinations in pursuit of their little balls whilst affording enterprising pickpockets the proverbial field day.

At least they should arm these "pros" with scythes as they plumb the forest primeval in pursuit of their little balls thus getting some use of these frequent treks into the waist high weeds. The only time Paedric Harrington, even saw the fairway during the entire event was when he teed up.

It also would be prudent to abandon all pretense that putters are of any use once the elusive green is attained. "Tiger" Woods proved this conclusively. Pool cues would clearly be more serviceable.

The money squandered on the bowling trophy with a gland condition that they present the winner could be better spent giving him a case of Guggenheimers Reserve to forget this eldritch event.

The only positive observation that Ming can make is that at least these clods have managed to escape from the dung hill of commerce that the rest of us are mired in while they are still in their prime and are not only paid to do so but actually earn adulation from the addled brained masses for playing this pointless game while someone, for instance, who does something more difficult and worthy of adulation such as pursuing a cure for a disease remains unsung.

Ming contends that anyone associated with professional golf in any manner, shape or form must devote themselves to useful employ no less than three months a year digging potatoes out of the ground to justify allocation of scarce resources to this sort of drivel. Ming will now hide in the basement under a pile of old rugs until any golfers who read this are through infarcting and cursing the fair name of Ming as they suffer apoplexy.

Ming Decides To Join The Mafia

Ming learned they have a really excellent dental plan so he sent in his application. It contains questions such as "Wassa You Name?", "Wassa You Real Name?" and an essay question of 25 words or less on "Why I Like Bocce Ball".

Ming hopes to garner one of those cool nicknames once his application meets with acceptance. Although he understands the nom de plumes of Jimmy the Weasel, Vinnie the Gimp and Tony Lacks Table Manners are already taken, Ming still feels his many quirks and foibles will engender a really good nickname.

Ming also looks forward to the secret induction ceremony where the candidate is forced to name the capitals of all fifty states while eating a box of cannolis as the made members all sing selections from My Fair Lady.

Once inducted one is given a phrase booklet from which one learns such useful cliches as "Are you lookin at me?", "You gotta problem?" and the ever popular "Fugedaboudit".

All members are then entitled to send back dishes in any Italian restaurant without fear of the kitchen staff spitting in them, have elected officials hold doors open for them and even have no one say anything when they cheat at pinochle.

The Missing Ming Mulls Many Mysteries

Poor Ming has been absent from his blog lo these many days as he spent time in his Tibetan ashram contemplating the veracities of life.

Only by developing his powers as a naldjorpa, can he hope to follow the short path and attain enlightenment in this incarnation without enduring successive rebirth. Besides who knows whether in some future rebirth if they will still have rent control.

This is why the ascetic training to develop his psychic powers allow him to plumb the really hard questions such as why the mailman in the Blondie comic strip is named Mr. Beasley when the mailman on the old Burns and Allen show was also named Mr. Beasley.

Another question that Ming is eager to fathom is where he put his glasses but that could be the subject of another post.

Dress For Success

Ming is appalled at women who aspire to power that lack the fashion sense to dress for success. Germany's Angela Merkel just now meeting with President Obama is wearing a bright yellow jacket of some dubious cut that makes her look like a canary with a gland condition. How would she like it if Obama showed up in a madras sports coat? Hillary Clinton is not only not any better, she's worse. Wearing those colorful pants suits, she's in jeopardy of being arrested for impersonating a tangerine.

In the roles they aspire to, they are not fashion plates but rather world leaders. As such they should be clothed in pinstripe suits tailored for their matronly figures. It probably would add to their gravitas if they also smoked cigars, but that's just Ming's opinion.