Breaking News from the CNN News Desk... Disney World on Presidents Day:

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Tonight, shortly after the Disney World Hall of Presidents closed, it was revealed by custodial staff that the 43 previous chief executive robots broke free from their stanchions and descended on the figure of Donald Trump, tearing it to pieces. Before electricians and engineers could shut the entire facility down to prevent literally millions of dollars in damage, Andrew Jackson, James Monroe, and Millard Fillmore had confiscated the orange-haired head and were playing a round of skins & shirts pick-up with Calvin Coolidge, John Tyler, and Franklin Pierce. Apparently, the James Buchanan had torn down the velvet curtains and fashioned itself a very becoming cheerleader's skirt and sweater set, and made similar outfits for James Madison and Martin Van Buren (both a petite size 2) much to the delight of Dwight Eisenhower and Herbert Hoover who rocked with laughter. Bill McKinley and William Howard Taft offered to try to find snacks for everyone in the cafeteria, preferably hot dogs and popcorn... or lubricating oil. Details at 6. Gears and pulleys at 11.

(Click on the link to see the Presidents' presentation, and pay close attention how all the figures acknowledge and nod to each other as they're introduced, but how the Trump figure only acknowledges Lincoln with a wave of the hand... and no one else.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkxOdzVbrrs

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“Sybil Bruncheon's My Merry Memoirs”… page 336… A Woman’s Home Is Her Castle… sort of.

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Back in the Winter of 1920, I (secretly) lived in the Belvedere Castle in Central Park during a really tough time financially… um… involving some unwise investments in asparagus futures and… oh… whatever. Anyway, after the asparagus market crashed, the alternative was to sleep in doorways and on park-benches (if the weather was nice enough) or in old wooden packing crates down by the loading docks when it wasn’t!). But that particular Winter, a packing crate wasn’t going to be quite enough… so I managed to sneak into beautiful Belvedere Castle when the lock on the front gate broke and no one got around to replacing it… (alright, I’ll admit; I had gotten pretty handy with a brick on a particularly frigid night!).

Anyway, during the day when strollers would wander by, I pretended to be a glamorous meteo-, a meteo-, a lady-weather-iatrix and to be taking "measurements". I’d purse my lips and shake my head worriedly over clipboards full of all sorts of maps and nonsense doodles... sort of like a cross between Jean Harlow and Jim Cantore. Most folks had never seen a woman weather-scientist back then, and I would point at the sky and say things like “bariatric pressure”, “thermos-dynamics”, “atmospheric conviction”, and “accumulo-nimble”, etc., etc. and they would ah and oooh, and ask for my autograph. I attracted larger and larger crowds of well-wishers, admirers, and gentleman-callers for all of January and February. Of course the park rangers got suspicious when I accidentally sat on my anemometer while eating a box of expensive chocolates and three-day-old celery from a vegetable stand. One of the cops wrote me up in his report saying I had an “anal-mometer” sticking out of my bloomers… JEEESH!

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AN OFFICIAL "POLAR BEAR CLUB" ANNOUNCEMENT...

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The internationally famous Coney Island Polar Bear Club is the oldest winter bathing organization in the United States. Their members go for an icy swim in the Atlantic Ocean at Coney Island every Sunday from November through April. This year, the Club announces a new variation on their weekly splashes with a special "Modesty Dip"! Participants must be appropriately wimpled, and must bring their own inflatable rosaries. Admission is free. Afterwards, dry crusts of bread and watery (semi-) hot chocolate will be served following a prayerful break on the shore… the monsignor has also warned that any shivering on dry-land afterwards will be considered a sign of spiritual weakness and a “compromise with the cold” and thus the temptation of Satan to perform his “unholy hootchie-kootch”!

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Sybil Bruncheon's Helpful ‘n' Hearty Household Hints for the Harried Housewife!... Rush! Rush!! RUSH!!!

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Girlfriends, do you find yourself running out of time between the office and the dinner table? Sure, who doesn't? Well, maybe, just maybe, Mummie can help you! We can't all afford the luxury to make elaborate French, Italian, or Uzbekistan gourmet meals during a day of creative semi-leisure like Martha Stewart and her billionaire gal-pals. But we CAN be clever with what our local grocer offers us and avoid calling in for a sad cardboard pizza from a corporate chain whose mascot is an UNstabbed Julius Caesar...

Here's what I'm doing tonight. I bought a pre-roasted chicken from my favorite grocery store. (I always choose the largest one!... perfect for reconfigured leftovers!!) I stuffed it full of lemon wedges, rubbed it with olive oil and butter, put it into my beloved All-Clad stock pot, surrounded it with huge chunks of parsnips, potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery, and poured a cup of chicken stock into the bottom. A bay leaf or two, and your choice of additional spices is optional. I'm putting it (covered!) into the oven for a couple of hours at 250. The lemon, vegetables, and stock will keep it all moist and actually bake the chicken to that fall-off-the-bone finish that I love. (The grocery always seems to undercook them, and I don't like chicken to be pink ANYWHERE!) By 7pm or so, it's done! I have done this after-work chicken-trick for ages, and it never fails! Bon appétit!!

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Sybil Bruncheon’s Tales & Tails for a Snowy Night...

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...ah, yes! Snow in Alaska! And whenever I see it snowing in Alaska, my mind drifts to a lovely night-time vision of clouds of snow swirling down from a low-hanging sky, huge drifts gathering around giant trees in deep woods. The beautiful silence of the scene broken only by the nearing sound of a desperate woman's panting and whimpering.....maybe she screams a little too. She gathers her sad little wrap and scarf around her as she glances fearfully behind her... except that she's lost her glasses. She stumbles into the deep drifts, and soaked, staggers back to her feet trying to make her way, even though the thick snow is thigh-high and she continues to fall face forward into the icy cold! She is soaked and frozen and...Look! ..she's being followed, CHASED really!.... and then, sprinting gracefully, joyfully through the trees, muscular and glorious, a pack of wolves! A large pack....of all ages. Smiling, bark-laughing, they close in on the terrified prey. They slow as they approach her fallen form, stop, and then slowly surround her, appraising their newly acquired snack-treat. Because that’s what it is… a snack-treat... a human snack-treat. Ah yes.... the former smirking hunter is reduced to whimpering in a language that her assailants either don't understand, or choose NOT to. ...and in the surrounding clearing, various other forest animals chatting happily in the moonlight; sparrows, squirrels, raccoons, a few foxes, sipping their cocktails, choosing hors d'oeuvres from passed trays, and watching the entertainment... ah, good times.... good times... “Dinner is served.”

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A Valentine's Day News Bulletin!

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Breaking News from the CNN News Desk: At today's Valentine's Day press conference, Mrs. Trump was asked what would her future plans be if her husband was somehow indicted and imprisoned for any crimes? Would she remarry? She thought for a moment, smiled, and said in that case she would return to her home planet and remarry. And probably eat her new husband on their honeymoon. Details at 6. Mandibles and antennae at 11.

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Sybil's Valentine's Days on Other Worlds!... I wanna hold your hand-thing...

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FOOLISH Earth-Dwellers! Do you think only YOU had beloved grandparents who cherished each other and held hand-things during their monogamy exchanges? Many galaxies have similar proceedings ensuring domestic tranquility, strong family bonding, and game-nights where the males of each species laugh, belch, yell, and play games with cardboard devices in full view of the proprietary females. Beverages and small food stuffs are served, while the guests discuss hydroponics, interdimensionality, and bowling..... sometimes with musical interludes. It is afterwards that the males and females depart in their appointed pairs and make infant or larval versions of themselves employing body-fluid and bolts... then they wire them for sound....

(photo by Francesco Romol)

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