Almost Inspirational Thoughts

by Bobby Sweezy

Confronting My Fear of Intimacy

by John Palm

With all the recent “hoopla” about intimacy… my wife and I are embarking on an experiment. Instead of watching in different rooms, we are going to watch the same TV for 7 nights in a row.


Big Fuzzy Black Hats

by John Palm

Brian sang the song like a proud peacock. Like a proud peacock with an oversized, black, fuzzy hat. Most people though his “pride” originated from his hat (much like Samson and his “hat of hair”). One day his hat grew so big that in engulfed him and swallowed him up completely. You would think there was a good “moral” to this story, but I just can’t think of what it would be?

Polka Addiction

by John Palm

I entered the “polka lifestyle” under the mantra…

It’s all just fun and games.

…then when the pain hit I began to see the tuba and the fancy polka trousers as my escape. Yes, there were times I felt like they were speaking aloud saying…

It’s ok, we will make it all better. Medicate your pain with Polka.

Forgive my weakness when I fall to the lure of Polka music. And find myself right back where I swore I would never go again! Darn you, Polka… darn you to the depths of the earth!

Take Up Your Cross

by John Palm

I carry the cross daily. It is not a burden. It is a joy and a privilege. We installed a 4 inch lift kit, hydraulics and a popcorn maker. My gardener does most of the “carrying” when people are not around. I hope the immigration department doesn’t send him back to the Dominican.

Inspirational Equations:

by John Palm

Ritz crackersBackyardigans

= really, really quiet kids for 1/2 hour


= just took your pm dose of medical marijuana

Real Men

by John Palm

Call me old fashioned… but to me a “real man” is the kind that opens doors for ladies, dresses well from head to toe, whistles as he walks down the street and has a few “robotic parts” that can really make him run super fast or punch thru doors or thin walls. That’s just the way my mother taught me.


by John Palm

I bought a pet bird on Thursday. I named it “Meatball”.  By Friday Meatball had disappeared out of his cage. And if things weren’t already bad enough my pet “Bird Eating Tarantula” had some kind of weird swelling disorder.