Halloween Fun in the Ol’ 93108

7:00 a.m
Creepy, Scary Pancake Breakfast at the firehouse.

8:00 a.m.
Howling Leave the Car at Home Walk to School. (Free)
Those attending the breakfast can walk from firehouse and pick up their SUVs later.)

9:00 a.m.
Halloween Parade/Fashion Show/PTA Fund Raiser
(Any student who can’t donate will be asked to participate in the smaller parade in the parking lot near the 6th grade classrooms. EVERYONE WILL PARADE. But the “A” parade is for ticket holders only, please.)

10:00 to 1:00
Multiple Haunted Sings
(Please note this year there may be as many as 25-30 sings due to class size, siblings etc. Check with the Paine Weber representative for the location of your child or use the “Where is My Child?” App on your I-phone/Droid. Be advised that ALL CHILDREN’S VOICES WILL BE HEARD even if it is at Cold Springs School.)

1:00 to 2:30
Spooky But Highly Educational Classroom Time
(This will adhere to the spirit of the state law if not the letter but isn’t Spirits what this day is all about?)

2:30 to 4:00
Halloween Snack Break at Wine and Cheese.
Please don’t forget your notarized invites. We don’t want an embarrassing repeat of last Halloween. Remember it’s a small community and we’ll be running into each other at Von’s or Tecolote the rest of the year.

4:00 to Midnight
Ghost Village Road Trick or Treating/Grand Costume Ball/Haunted Villa/Air Show/and Million Dollar Fireworks Scream-apalooza.
(One ticket is good for all events and rides. This year’s proceeds will be split between enhancing the school landscaping and buying books for our sister school in the 90210.)

Why I Like This Postcard

I buy postcards for the blog (and when there was an audience of one) for personal reasons. The best have a story that jumps right out at you from the picture. Or it seems to strike a chord in my life. Moving into a new house. Or having a baby crawl his way into your life.

Some cards give up their ideas right away. Others lie around in a pile or drawer for months or years.

Photos of people seem especially evocative, especially when people look rather odd so that the story starts quickly without a lot of explanation. A fast start, a few good jokes and a solid punchline. Is that too much to ask from a picture of people who were roaming the earth eighty to a hundred years ago?

The reason I like this card is that this guy looks like the ultimate American tourist somewhere in the distant past. But it could also be yesterday. His clothes seem fashionable (for the time) but also frumpy making him look like a hastily wrapped package.

The thing that I like best about the card is that it has a kind of scalloped edge.
Don’t know why but somehow that just breaks my heart.

Home is Where the Heart (And a Whole Pile of Fed-Exed Packages) Is.

The airplane wheels give a little scritch and the plane is down. You are home safe and sound.

The plane after a really long pause taxis to the gate. The captain turns off the “fasten seat belts” sign. The rows clear out ahead of you. Three rows ahead some guy finally rouses himself and retrieves his bag from the overhead. (Hey, no rush, Stupid.) You enter the airport. Home– safe and sound.

Your ride (which has been waiting in the cell phone lot with a very persnickety phone) pulls up to the curb. Kisses. Hugs. Bags slammed into the trunk. Ah, home safe and sound.

The traffic from the airport to the freeway is jammed due to construction. (A nice change of pace from delays due to accident, rain, lost tourists, drive-by shooting or Obama visit.) It clears and your chariot swings onto the 405. It’s good to be back home.

The miles go by fairly well with conversation about your trip and the non-doings at home. You pass the big Santa Claus in Oxnard. (That used to be a more welcome sight when he lived closer to Santa Barbara.) Then the best sign — “Santa Barbara County”. Good, home safe and sound.

Walking around a little zombie-like, checking phone messages, e-mail, twitter, snail mail and prizes won on E-Bay auctions. It’s nine, here but midnight for your body and three a.m. for your spirit. Get in pajamas. Fall into bed. Moe purrs and kneads the little space next to you. Then he is lifted up and rudely displaced by that guy with the white hair who is just so unbelievably stupid. Free at last Moe plops down next to you. Warm and fuzzy as a super-sized kitten. Home at last. Safe and zzzzzzzzzz.

Forget Neighborhood Watch — God is 365/24-7.

He is there when you wolf down that chocolate eclair that you “absolutely do not need”.

He is there when you hurriedly rush in the wrong door at Gelson’s so you don’t have to pass the old guy collecting for the poor or the homeless or whoever the hell they are collecting for this week.

He is there when you ignore the baby’s poo poo diaper until Mom gets home.

He is there when the cashier hands you change for a twenty though you only gave her a ten. And then you rush out the entrance door avoiding eye contact.

He is there when you put off writing your birthday thank-yous so long that it would be stupid to send them now.

He is there when you cut your wheels too close while parallel parking and set off somebody’s car alarm.

He is there when you put back the carton of milk with less than a swallow still in it.

He is there when you text somebody back while stopped at a light “just for a second.” He is also there a minute later to welcome you into the after-life.

Helpful Notes From The Network

“As you’ve probably heard I’m the most cutting edge exec we’ve got here at the Rock. So, this is totally uncool but I’m sticking my heart on my sleeve today, boys. I love you guys! I bow to your mega-uber talents. I kiss your creative tushies. If they put an infinite amount of development people in a room with an infinite amount of MacBook Pros they would never have come up with this story. Bravo!”

“You took a boring ass story where Dusty stays home with the fake measles… wait Dusty is the dog and Dave is the human, right? … I’m telling you, you gotta give one of ’em a name that doesn’t start with D. Audiences get confused easily. Ask the guys who did that Playboy thingamajiggie… What was my point? Oh, yeah you took a moth ball smelling story and made it into a brilliant parody of The Secret of the Buried Treasure.”

“It’s the shit, man. It works on a kid’s level. It works on an adult level. It works like gangbusters in every demo. Bar none. … Unfortunately, Legal says that the Buried Treasure people have a rep for suing at the drop of a hat. So, no go. Legal is so scared they aren’t even going to ask.”

So, what do you say, big pot o’ coffee, back to the old drawing board? Good luck! If you want to bounce any ideas off me just have Ginger track me down at Bryant Park. Fashion Week, you know? Ciao!”

If Gary Baseman Isn’t Nearby With a Sharpie This Dude Is Also Extraordinary.

Note: This story also appears in Bill Steinkellner’s Postcards from the Moon — available on Amazon for Christmas gifts and the inflating of Mr. Steinkellner’s ego.

The Ben Corday Genuine, 100% Guaranteed Pledge–

We promise that at Ben Corday’s Tattoo Parlor you will receive only the best in epidermal etchings. Our drawing tools are fashioned from Swiss steel and are checked constantly for their world class precision and prophlylacticity.

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All work will be performed by The Maestro of Tattoo, Ben Corday, himself or should he be off on an inspection tour of one of his world-wide parlors, the work will be etched by an artist originally trained by The Maestro of Tattoo. The design will, of course, be a Corday Original.

Contrary to a vicious rumor no one has ever turned violet and died from blood poisoning due to a Ben Corday needle.

Visit our parlor and — “Your skin will look beautiful, forever”.

The Greatest Astrological Sign By Far

Aquarius, you are so sweet I want to hug you till your face turns blue or you cry uncle. Then I want to pinch your cheeks. Then I’d like to stare adoringly at your face. Just ’cause.

You are too good to be true. You are funny and brilliant and also, polite and considerate almost beyond human endurance. Which is to say you are a laugh riot with manners. Anyone ever say that to a Taurus?

As for marriage if you are lucky enough to get an Aquarius to marry you, you should thank your lucky stars. Crazy, because then you will be married to a lucky star. Not only are you great to be married to but you are fantastic with in-laws, too.

You have a beautiful mind but it is often too good for this world. That is why it is often back near the dawn of time or ten million years ahead when you are supposed to be seriously considering which set of lawn furniture to buy. Trust me.

Turn Back the Clock or A Short History of Bill Steinkellner’s Muse.

Note: The “you” in this story is Cheri. In the first two situations she is C. Eichen and C. Steinkellner in the last two. Without her Greetingsfrombill would have no muse.

You’ve just joined the Groundling Workshop. You think the people are nice and funny. A guy with salt and pepper hair that you barely know tells you that he is infatuated with you. As if a stranger’s car just crashed into your basement apartment. Totally not your fault but somehow you have to deal with it.

You’re sitting in a bungalow apartment trying to decide if you are going to move in with a guy for the first time. You are twenty-two. (If your mother finds out she is going to be really pissed.) The shadows of Hollywood grow long outside the bungalow. You sit and think and think and think.

They tell you that you are finally in labor. You have waited at the edge of your seat for weeks. You push and push. Nada. The doctor announces a switch to a Caesarian birth. He does it by saying this — “Let’s have a baby!” They roll you down a long hall to the O.R. The energy in the room is crackling as if the Beatles are about to jump through the curtains.

It’s the last category of the Emmy Awards and then you can go to that party and congratulate Woody, on his best supporting actor Emmy. Uncle Miltie is forming his voluptuous lips around a word that starts with a “Ch” and ends in an “eers”.

Is This One of Those “Good” Jobs in the New World Economy?

“Balls and dolls. Balls and dolls. Knock a dolly over and get a piece of the American Dream. Marry the girl next door and raise three great kids all just five minutes from your up-scale fun job in the Greater Whatever-land area.”

“Bop the little doll on her keister and attain the reward of lifetime. Get a hot prestigious career in a highly respected industry making life better for all mankind. Never regret that you didn’t become a teacher or priest or some other admired but lousy paying job.”

“Come on give it a shot. Who wants a chance to be the next Steve Jobs? — What? Sorry, too soon.-
– Okay, Donald Trump with better hair?”

“Don’t be a wuss. Where’s your cojones? Can’t be too hard to hit the ol’ bull’s-eye. Did I mention that the winner gets a happy go lucky, whistle while you work, no worries, mate life-style where the home team always wins. True, dat.”

Step right, up. Who wants to be the new Sandy Koufax?
Balls and dolls. Balls and dolls.”

The Guy Who Could Run Rings Around the Whole CSI Crowd.

They flew me in from Chi-Town because I was the best. I always nail bad guy. Once it took me six plus years and five resolings of my favorite wing-tips but I got ’em. Not entirely my fault though, since the perp was the sittin’ President of these United States and there was a ton of Constitutional type questions involved. But that case was going to be a piece of cake next to this doozy.

From the chopper the majesty and power of the self-proclaimed Greatest Burg on Earth was so overwhelming that it seemed impossible that one puny madman could have it shaking in its boots.
But it was.

Detective Pastor filled me in on the latest grisly details and then got a squawk about a shipment of I-Phone 5s being hi-jacked. So, Martin had to book it out of there pronto. Not even enough time to finish his cheesecake … or pay his half of the check. In this business you get used to that.

I slugged down the last splash of java and headed out into the mean streets. What else could I do?
I was the guy they were counting on. Some nut was using a Swiffer to somehow systematically bump off every citizen in the Big Apple. Half a million were already pushin’ up daisies and the rest weren’t feelin’ so hot, either.