Nifter's Nuts

It Means So Much

2010-10-04T04:07:00.000-07:00

By Nifter
Click to see Nifter's Nuts

No sooner did I submit the post, I'm Sorry, Thank You, I Love You, Good-bye yesterday, than the phone rang with some bad news: a close cousin of mine had passed away from a sudden heart attack. He was 57.

I'm not going to dwell on this, but his death is another example of why it is so important to tell people how important their involvement in your life has been. My cousin hadn't talked to his sister in years, now, the opportunity has passed, no pun intended.

I'm going to end this post by suggesting you read I'm Sorry, Thank You, I Love You, Good-bye. I'm not a great writer, but I'm sure you will understand the very important message that article sends.

Rest in peace, Ken. You will be missed.

I'm Sorry, Thank You, I Love You, Good-bye

2010-10-03T03:19:00.000-07:00

By Nifter
Click to see Nifter's Nuts

A more serious moment today, because it's important.

We're all going to die. We know it's coming, we understand its inevitability, and yet, few among us prepare for it the way we should - or at least the way I think we should. I'm hoping you'll agree by the time you finish reading this. Those loved ones who survive you will appreciate it.

Think about your life for a moment, from the earliest you can remember until now. Think about what you've had, and had not, the ups, the downs, the relationships, the mistakes, the victories, the losses, the times you've helped others, the times you've hurt others, those who have loved you, and do love you now, the people you've loved, those you've scorned, all the work you've done - from scrubbing the toilet to getting up and slugging off to a job every day - all the good times you've had, the successes, the failures, a childhood, good or bad, with its myriad of memories, all that you've learned and all you wish you had learned... An entire life, each and every minute of it, and when we realize our days are nearing the end, we do absolutely nothing to acknowledge the reality of it all, to thank those who, without, our lives would have been vastl different.

I've seen many people die in my time, including the recent death of my father, which probably triggered this post, although I have been thinking about this subject for decades.

My father, who passed away at 83 years of age, outlasting medical expectations by well over two years, was no different. He is, in fact, a perfect example of what I am trying to get across. His life continued in its normal fashion until the day he died, and nowhere in that time did he sit down with friends or family to say what I believe he should have. Exactly the same way so many others finish their lives.

For some reason, we simply live out our time in our individual ways, carrying on with whatever it is we do until that moment when we pass. As age catches up to us, it doesn't seem to occur to us that taking a few moments out of an entire life to pass on even a simple thank you, could be so rewarding - for everyone involved.

I suspect there are many reasons for this, although one in particular stands out: death is not a favorite subject of many, if any; people just don't like to talk about it, and even though paying acknowledgement to others does not have to be about dying, it certainly might feel like it is, which is enough for a lot of people to ignore doing so. (That in itself is a sad reality, the fact that conversations such as I am suggesting usually only occur as death creeps closer.)

So what exactly am I suggesting? I believe we should all sit down with our immediate family members certainly, and those friends we feel especially close to also, and tell them how we feel. Apologize for major mistakes, without dwelling on them, thank each person for their contribution to your life, then tell them you love them. I'm sorry, thank you, I love you, which ultimately means, I'm sorry, thank you, I love you, good-bye.

Apologizing for mistakes could easily be left out of the conversation, but indeed, if there are some big ones, the person(s) affected might well appreciate hearing it. Besides, it will make you feel better also.

We're all going to die. We understand its inevitability, and now we're going to do something about it. Death can occur at any age, and telling someone how important they are to your life is always a good thing. And don't forget the I love you. Yes, they may already know that, but it's a much different thing hearing it from you.

I'm sorry, thank you, I love you, good-bye. As you rest in eternity, those who survive you will always remember that conversation, and will live proudly onward knowing how much they really meant to you. Because you told them so. Do it.

I'm sorry, thank you, I love you, good-bye.

What I Don't Have to Say Today

2010-09-23T12:55:00.000-07:00

By Nifter
Click to see Nifter's Nuts

I was checking out some random blogs this morning and noticed something interesting. Okay, well "interesting" is a stretch and a half, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

There seem to be many bloggers out there who post what's on their mind at the moment, even if their mind is as empty as Britney Spear's panties on club night. (In case you haven't heard, she leaves them at home.) So what happens, with the bloggers that is, not Britney, is something like this:

I don't really have much to say today so I guess I won't say anything at all. I hate to leave my fans with nothing, though, so I thought I'd check in and jot something down anyway. I guess this is what I'm jotting down.

And that's it, the end.

Sunday Morning Church on TV and the Hot Babes

2010-09-22T06:52:00.000-07:00

By Nifter
Click to see Nifter's Nuts

So it's Sunday morning, I'm having a bite to eat and flip on the television. Lucky me, it's the Ernest Angeley Ministries show, whatever it's called. (Give Me Your Money, maybe?)

I didn't even realize it was persistent ol' Ernie at first, although it was instantly apparent the broadcast was one of those Sunday morning "church shows" I so abhor. Normally I would quickly switch to another channel but my eye was caught by a rather striking woman with a beaming Colgate smile. (It's hard to be male sometimes.) She was center-screen, looking stunningly beautiful and singing like she'd just found Jesus, so to speak.

Seconds later, the camera panned out to reveal yet another beautiful, i.e., hot woman. Indeed, there were two of these beauties - and some funny-looking dude in-between them holding a funny-looking guitar, and appearing quite out of place with women of such, well, presence. They were a trio of singers, singing praise to their Lord. Two hotties and a dude.

Although all of three could carry a tune well enough, the woman on the right had an obvious lisp. Now, there's nothing wrong with that; people with lisps are no different than anyone else, singing or not, if you know what I mean, and normally I wouldn't even give it a second thought. But this was television, after all, so it got me thinking. Was this woman selected as a member of the trio because of her striking good looks, despite the lisp? Could it be that the duplicitous Ernie-boy was taking advantage of her beauty, using it to stop channel surfers like myself in their tracks, hopefully drawing them into his, uh, wallet? Or was this just another case of an imaginative mind, mine, drifting into speculative nonsense - a plight many of us thinkers and dreamers are prone to?

One could easily write the whole thing off, but again, there were two gorgeous women. And I'm not talking about a couple of pretty girls; these were women of unusual allure in every way possible. Two of them. Coincidence? If Mr. Angeley was using womanly attributes to draw viewers in, however, why then, would he select a male who looked like an elasticized George Castanza? I suspect if we asked Ernie he'd tell us the women were selected for their God-given gift of voice. I couldn't help but wonder though, if they were selected for a different set of God-given gifts. And the ugly dude in the middle? Perhaps, just perhaps, preacher Ernest was avoiding competition.

As I was uselessly pondering these unimportant matters and the trio were ending their song - a sudden burst of large, screen-filling letters popped into view, informing me that Jesus is At Your Door. (Of course I ran to the door to see, but the message must have been for someone else - he wasn't there.) At this point, our money-loving friend, Ernest, appeared behind the now fading message and began his sermon. The sight of Ernest Angeley was enough to snap me back into reality. I changed the channel.

With all my stupid pondering just about finished, it appears that Ernest did manage to affect a wandering channel flipper after all. Me, someone who abhors those Sunday morning "church shows" which I see as a parade of counterfeit moralism designed to extract money from well-meaning, but unwary viewers. Whether intentional on the show's part or not, I clearly haven't forgotten those women. (It's tough being male sometimes.) But I haven't lost my mind either, not completely anyway, so I sure as hell won't be sending Mr. Angeley any money. I do appreciate those few moments of wishful thinking, however. Thanks Ernie.

A Recent Poem Out of Nifter's Nuts

2010-09-21T06:15:00.000-07:00

By Nifter
Click to see Nifter's Nuts

Today I thought I'd post one of the recent poems featured on Nifter's Nuts. It'll give you a general idea of the kind of things you can find there. (FYI: Nifter's Nuts is a relatively new sub-section of Nifter.com and features a growing collection of funny, odd and thought-provoking articles, poems, song parodies and other nonsense. You really need to check out the Web site to grasp the reality of what goes on there. ;-) Everything on Nifter's Nuts has been written or otherwise created by 'Biff Nifter,' otherwise known as, me, even though the Web site was started by others. (More about that another time.)

Some Days are Better than Others
Copyright 2010 Nifter.com All Rights Reserved

Woke up feeling nauseous, swung my legs out of the bed,
Tipping over sideways I fell off and split my head,
Dashed into the bathroom, couldn't find the first-aid kit,
Stuck some toilet paper on and taped it to the split.

Pulling out my toothbrush, sudden hiccup, poked my eye,
Straight towards the toilet saw that toothbrush start to fly,
"I've still got it," told myself, and snatched it from the air,
When suddenly I noticed I was naked standing there.

Grabbed a towel, wrapped it 'round, turned on the water stream,
Seems the toothpaste that I used was someone's sun-tan cream,
Tried to yell but nothing came, my mouth was gooey-stuck,
Was certain then a man could not have any more bad luck.

The mirror said, my hair looks like a lawn that's not been mowed,
It really didn't matter much, the sink had overflowed,
The towel snugged about my groin, I used to wipe the floor,
Then had to wrap around me wet, a knock came at the door.

T'was my next-door neighbour, he had come on my behalf,
"Your car has two flat tires," said, then he began to laugh,
I wondered why that's funny for a second then turned red,
Creamy lips, a dripping towel, toilet paper on my head.

Cleaned my mouth then called a tow truck, checking on the time,
Had to be to work before the clock passed over nine,
Things were looking up until I went to leave the house,
Stuck my foot into a shoe and squished a bloody mouse.

"Damn that dog" I blurted out, he's started that again,
Kicking off the shoe I slipped and caused an ankle sprain,
Rushing in, the dog came, not his mouse he'd let me take,
Grabbed that ankle in his jaw and he began to shake.

What a sorry battle then, I thought I'd lose my mind,
Fast as I'd get up he'd pull me down on my behind,
In time he got the message that, my ankle's not to chew,
But damn, by then, from head to toe, was fully black and blue.

Finally made it out the door, albeit with a limp,
In the car and off I go, no time to be a wimp,
Turned to Main Street, ten of nine, I thought I was home-free,
Swerved to miss a frightened cat, drove straight into a tree.

Two-door car and both are stuck, the metal crumpled in,
Climbing out the windshield I cut both my hands and shins,
Off the hood I slid and fell, damn ankle once again,
'Couldn't get much worse,' I thought, and then began the rain.

Pouring down and wind so fierce I couldn't even talk,
Gotta love it - wind and rain, 'cause now I have to walk,
'Be an optimist,' I thought, it'll wash the blood away,
But feeling like an optimist was not to be that day.

Seven blocks I'd yet to go, it seemed like twenty miles,
Limping, bloody, wounded, wet, and not one single smile,
Just as I was thinking that, it blew down off my head,
It was the toilet paper gauze, into which I had bled.

Ah yes, a little smile then, it crept across my face,
Been hellish mad, this morning has, but I have won the race,
Dead ahead the workplace loomed, it's over, I supposed,
Then realized it's Saturday, the sign read: Sorry, We're Closed