Fresh Juice Day 10
Pillsbury Dough Boy Dead. He was a Roll Model.
“You see what I see,” said one of the Readers.
“I don’t see anything, “ said Reader number two.
“That’s just it,” said the first Reader. “There’s nothing. Nothing as faaaaar as the eye can see. No Goldenberg. No blog. Just white space. Ahh, it’s so peaceful.”
“But it’s Sunday night. There’s always a new blog on Monday.”
Then, a chorus of Readers offered their explanation of what was causing this bloglessness:
“Maybe Goldenberg’s just given up. Maybe three blog posts a week became too much for him.”
“ Yeah. Maybe he’s run out of ideas?”
“Nah, Goldenberg never runs out of ideas.”
“Maybe he’s been kidnapped. By pygmies or by people close to David Sisselman or by pygmies close to David Siselman.”
“What if he’s just given up?” said the first Reader.
“Well, we could do it,” said Reader number two.
“We could do what?”
“Run the blog! Write the blog! How tough could it be? You pick a topic like advertising, or celebrities or Roy Rogers singing “Happy Trails to You,” and you write some stuff about them.
“We can’t write a blog,” said Reader number one. We’re not writers. We’re just Readers. Not even real Readers. We’re just something Goldenberg dreamt up.”
“Look, with Goldenberg not around, we can do whatever we want. I could even give myself a name. Charlene? No. Gwyneth? Too fancy. Madonna? Nah, been there, done that. I know. I’ll call myself Harriett,” said Harriett.
“Then who am I?” said Reader number one.
“You could be Stan, Stan, “ said Harriett, proud she’d come up with a suitable name for her partner, friend, and guide through the blogosphere.
“Stan? Stan! Stan the Man! I like it!” said Stan.
“Hey, it worked,” said Stan, amazed that he now had a name and was no longer referred to as Reader number one.
“Of course, you don’t always have to be Stan,” Harriett explained.
“I don’t?” questioned Stan.
“Nah. You can be the King of Siam if you want to be.”
“I can be the King of Siam,” said the King of Siam smiling from ear to ear.
“Cheese it, King of Siam, here comes Goldenberg! Let’s get outta here before he realizes we took over his blog,” said Harriett, running off the digitized page as fast as her digitized legs would carry her.
“I am Sam, the King of Siam (Sorry Dr. Seuss). And I am outta here.” Said Sam, aka the King of Siam.
Hi, welcome to my blog and welcome to Fresh Juice, Day 10. Sorry I’m late. Hope you found something to do.
“He should only know!” said Sam the King of Siam.
“Quiet, Stan!” whispered Harriett.
First, I’d like to tell you a story about four people I know. Everybody, Somebody, Nobody and Anybody.
Once upon a time there were four people whose names were Everybody, Somebody, Nobody and Anybody.
When there was an important job to do, Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.
Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.
When Nobody did it, Everybody got angry because it was Everybody’s job.
Everybody thought that Somebody would do it. But Nobody realized that Nobody would do it.
So consequently Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done in the first place.
And now, I have to interrupt my blog for an important and sad announcement:
Pillsbury Dough Boy Dead at 71. Funeral at 350 for about 20 minutes.
Please join me in remembering a great American icon – the Pillsbury Dough Boy, aka Pop N. Fresh. The veteran Pillsbury spokesman was 71.
The Pillsbury Dough Boy died yesterday of a yeast infection. He was 71. Fresh was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The gravesite was piled high with flours.
Aunt Jemima Delivers Eulogy
Longtime friend, Aunt Jemima, delivered the eulogy, describing Fresh as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded, Fresh rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers.
He was not considered a very “smart” cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, but was thought of a roll model for millions. Toward the end, it was thought he would rise again, but alas, he remained
The Dough Boy is survived by his wife, Play Dough, and two children, John Dough and Jane Dough; plus one they had in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart. The funeral was held at 350 for about twenty minutes.
Advice for Businessmen and Women on How Not to Get too Successful
An American businessman was at the pier of a small, coastal Mexican fishing village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the boat were several large yellow fin tuna that were still dripping water because they had been recently caught.
The American complimented the fisherman on his catch and asked him how long it took to catch them.
The Mexican replied, “Less than an hour. It didn’t take long.”
The American then asked the fisherman why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish?
The Mexican said he had enough to take care of his family’s immediate needs.
The American then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?
The Mexican fisherman replied, “ I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full life, senor.”
The American scoffed, “I have Harvard MBA and I can help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat. And with the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats.
Instead of selling your catch to middlemen, you would sell directly to the processor, making more money. Eventually, you’d open a cannery. You would control the product, the processing, the distribution and the sales. You would need to leave this small, sleepy fishing village and move to Mexico City, then to LA and eventually you’d run your sprawling empire from Ne York City.”
The Mexican fisherman was intrigued and asked,” But, senor, how long will all this take?”
The American replied, “Fifteen to twenty years.”
“And then what, senor?”
The American laughed and said that’s the best part. “When the time is right, you would announce an IPO (initial Public Offering). You’d sell your company stock to the public and become very, very rich. You’d make millions.
“Millions, senor? Then what?”
The American explained, “ Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you would sip wine and play guitar with your amigos.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said the Mexican. And he decided to get up a little later then next morning…because his current business plan was right on track.
Advice For Those Who Work Too Hard, Ignoring Their Loved Ones, Family. Friend and Their Own Life
No one ever had inscribed on their tombstone, “I wish I spent more time at the office!”
Thanks for stopping by this week and thanks especially to our subscribers. See you Wednesday or Friday with a new blog. If I can think of anything to say.