Archive for the Family and Friends Category


Posted in amusant, And now the snorting starts, おかしなふるまいの, अजीब, buffo, Family and Friends, gülen yüz, greannmhar, 재미, αστείος, kluchtig, lächerlich, music, neşeli, snaaks, مضحك, مضحکہ خیز, 滑稽, מצחיק, خنده, خنده دار with tags , on June 6, 2012 by paulboylan


June 6, 2012, 8:55 AM:

My wife just walked into my office, affected a New Jersey accent, and said:

You know how they say you should be careful about what you wish for, well I wished to be frickin’ awesome, and it’s worked out pretty good for me.

And then she walked back into our bedroom to continue getting ready for work.


Meet My Oldest and Youngest Sisters

Posted in космическая девушка, Family and Friends, Film, Grim Fairy Tales, Movies, music, Photography, Pop Culture on January 29, 2012 by paulboylan


My father married three times.



He producing three sons, of which I am the second, and five daughters. I recently realized that my oldest sister shares inexplicable similarities to my youngest sister.

My oldest sister is Marea. We share a mother and a father.




As is apparent, Marea is in love with the American culture exemplified in the 1890’s through the 1920’s.  Her passion for that era extends, in particular, to its music.  I personally am amazed that Marea has found a variety of fora to express her appreciation through performance in front of audiences of people equally passionate about such an esoteric historical period.  Here is an example:



Jump ahead a generation to the results of my father’s third, and most lasting, marriage.  This is my youngest sister, Eileen.




Like her oldest sister, Eileen has embraced the theatrical.  She is actually a fairly accomplished actress, which you can see byhclicking here/or by watching this film preview:



I am very proud of all my sisters, but Eileen possesses a talent that excites me more than any other: she is a talented graphic artist and there is a possibility she will collaborate with me to illustrate one of my Grim Fairy Tales entitled The Vulture Who Thought He Was a Person.

Stay tuned.


Kansas City

Posted in Family and Friends, Kansas City, Travel, פיצה on November 20, 2011 by paulboylan

I’ve never been here before.  I like it.  This is a city with complex personality, a haunted quality and unexpected sophistication.

Bread pudding flambe I got at at rib joint. Incredibly delicate and delicious.

Tonight: dinner with Murph and Trinity.

Looking forward to it.



Posted in And now the snorting starts, Family and Friends, Food, 스타게이트유니버스, pandemic, Photography, zombies on November 19, 2011 by paulboylan

As most of you know, I recently returned from a really wonderful visit to Australia.

While there, I was enormously fortunate to spend a bit of time with the magnificent and munificent author, John Birmingham, during which we shared one or two or three really excellent meals.

I returned from Australia about 10 pounds heavier than when I left.  Apparently, John gained a bit of weight too, for which he blamed me.s

In response, I admitted causing John’s increased girth and explained that I did it for revenge.  This is what I said:

“I readily admit it. Why did I go through so much trouble at such high cost and such low profit to “visit” Oz? I did it to prompt the otherwise preternaturally svelte Mr. Birmingham to pack on unsightly kilos. I did it for revenge. Revenge! Birmingham’s failure to model a significant recurring character after me demanded revenge! Murph gets to be president. The Rhino gets to be, well, the Rhino. What do I get? Zilch! Bupkis! Maffi! Nada! Nichts! Nothing (I added that last one for you out there who don’t speak any Yiddish, Arabic, Spanish or German. Fucking Philistines)!

I am not an unreasonable man. I realize that a short, bald, fart-joke-loving, seppo lawyer of mixed Greek and Irish ancestry doesn’t really lend itself to military/tech adventure novels or histories of Sydney. So? So what? This is about respect!

I am not, however,  responsible for the advent of the restaurant review season. That’s our own damned fault.”

Feeling rather pleased with my creative invective, I showed it to my wife, Lori.  After reading it, she looked up at me and said:

“I would be careful what I say if I were you.  For all you know, you might end up as a gay zombie in one of his books.”

I… didn’t consider that possibility.  But now that I have considered it,  I must agree with my wife: I need to be more careful.


Posted in And now the snorting starts, Family and Friends, Food, Grim Fairy Tales, Isnt nature wonderful?, Mordor, Rotwang, The Great State of Montana!, The Wilhelm Scream, USA! USA! USA!, What are you sick or something?, Why do people in other countries talk funny? on October 29, 2011 by paulboylan

So I am sitting in this tavern in Melbourne with my mates Flinthart, Banger, Melbo, Mayhem and Catty, eating and drinking and otherwise faffing up a storm, exploring the random furphy and otherwise having a grand time, when the topic of writing comes up.

I mentioned the inappropriate series of children’s stories I wrote many years ago told by my alter-ego, an evil old man named Brother Grim.

One of my dining companions actually encouraged me to post those awful stories here. I think all of them are secretly laughing at me.  Australians are inscrutable.  I can’t think of any way they can be scruted. But, what the heck, it is nearly Halloween, so why not trot out Bumpkin the Country Pumpkin – posted a couple of years ago at the Mini Burger.  I’ve added illustrations.  I recommend that all of you read it to your children, the younger the better.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you





Once upon a time there was a little pumpkin named Bumpkin.


He lived in the country, far away from the Big City, on the side of the road next to the pumpkin patch.  He was a bit scrawny and small.  He began as a stray seed that accidentally flew to the roadside to sprout and grow without the benefit of regular water, fertilizer and pesticides. 

So he sat by the side of the road, watching the pumpkins in the pumpkin patch grow big and orange and proud.

“We are Halloween pumpkins!” the pumpkin patch pumpkins would say to Bumpkin.  “Children will buy us and make us into Jack-o-lanterns for Halloween!” they bragged shamelessly.

Bumpkin wished he, too, could be a Jack-O-Lantern for Halloween, but the pumpkin patch pumpkins laughed when he confessed his deepest desire.

“We are big and orange,” they would point out.  “We will be picked at harvest and taken to the supermarket where we will be examined and fawned over and picked by children, who will carve us into scary and silly faces.  We will be illuminated by flickering candles, glowing yellow out from our carved eyes.  We will be remembered forever by children who grow into adults, who will take their children in turn to the supermarket to pick a Halloween pumpkin.”

“Maybe I will become a Jack-o-lantern too!” Bumpkin squeaked from the roadside, interrupting the litany of self-admiration.

“You?” the other pumpkins sneered. “Who would pick you?  You are funny-looking, and besides, you are growing out by the roadside, away from the pumpkin patch.  You will never be harvested and taken to the supermarket.”

When harvest came, Bumpkins saw that it was true.  The truck loads of migrant workers were paid by the pound, so they concentrated on the bigger, oranger pumpkins in the pumpkin patch.  They didn’t even notice little, scrawny, misshaped Bumpkin.

But then one of the workers, for reasons unknown, and to the righteous shock of the finer pumpkins, reached out and picked Bumpkin and placed him on the pile with the other pumpkins.

And so Bumpkin was taken to the supermarket and placed on display. 

But no one picked him.  Many children came and looked.  Some touched and weighed, some seriously considered, but they all ended up choosing the bigger, oranger pumpkins.

On Halloween Eve Bumpkin found himself all alone on the wooden display sitting between two rotting pumpkins.  He felt it was all over when he heard a woman’s voice ask:

“How much for the pumpkins?”

“I’ll give you all three for a penny a piece,” the voice of the produce manager said.

And so the woman bought Bumpkin and the two rotting pumpkins and brought them to her home.

The woman lived in a bad neighborhood in a small appartment near a busy street.  When she got home, she took all three pumpkins out of the bag and began cutting and cleaning the two rotting pumpkins, who had died from despair many days earlier.

“I guess I’m going to be a pie,” Bumpkin said to himself in bitter disappointment. 

But then a little boy walked into the kitchen.  His name was Timmy, and Timmy wanted – more than anything in the world – to carve a jack-o-lantern for Halloween.  He saw Bumpkin lying on the counter beside the sink, and Timmy fell in love.  Bumpkin was the most beautiful pumpkin Timmy had ever seen.


“Please, Mamma. Please, can I have that little pumpkin?” he asked.

“No,” his mother said.  “We are very poor, and we need these pumpkins for food.  It is wrong to play with food.”

“Oh, please Mamma!  If you give me the pumpkin, I promise to get a job and work real hard to earn enough money to buy another pumpkin so you can cook it!  Please!”  Timmy said, and began to cry, because he knew full well that there were no jobs for poor little boys like him.

His mother knew it, too, but she gave Timmy the little pumpkin anyway. She really didn’t want to cook it.  She was suspicious of Bumpkin’s sickly color and odd shape.  She thought Bumpkin might be diseased.  So she gave it to Timmy.

“Make sure to wash your hands afterwards,” Timmy’s mother instructed.

Timmy didn’t care what Bumpkin looked like or the risk of pathogen contamination associated with cutting into Bumpkin’s flesh.  Timmy was overjoyed.

And Bumpkin was overjoyed.  He was going to be a jack-o-lantern!  At last, his dream was coming true.

Bumpkin became a little hesitant when he saw Timmy spread some newspaper on the floor and take hold of a long carving knife.


And it hurt a lot when Timmy clumsily stabbed into Bumpkin’s flesh, cutting a hole in Bumpkin’s top and reaching in to scoop out Bumpkin’s guts.


Bumpkin fainted more than once.  And, as Timmy’s little hand scooped out Bumpkin’s insides, reaching in over and over again,  Bumpkin screamed over and over again, screams that only other pumpkins could hear – as well as the occasional banana squash.


Between fainting and screaming, Bumpkin could hear, out in the black night, the howling screams of the bigger, oranger pumpkins who, like Bumpkin, were being eviscerated by smiling, laughing children, as well as the occasional perverted adult.

After what seemed to be a timeless eternity of suffering without end, Bumpkin was transformed into a jack-o-lantern.  Timmy beamed as he placed a candle in Bumpkin, lit the candle and set Bumpkin in front of the apartment door.

Bumpkin’s pride overshadowed his excruciating pain.  He looked up and down the street at the other jack-o-lanterns carved from the fine, cultivated pumpkins.   Bumpkin could feel their surprise – and a little outrage – when they noticed him.  Bumpkin decided that he was just as good as any of them.  And he was.

The magic of that night went on and on.  Bumpkin watched as the costumed children went door to door yelling “trick or treat!” holding out their bags for candy.


And then it was Timmy’s turn.  Bumpkin watched as Timmy and his mother left the apartment to go trick or treating.

“Isn’t my jack-o-lantern beautiful?” Timmy beamed.

“Yes, dear,” his mother said, and they walked off.

It wasn’t long before more children came to the door.  But no one was home to give them candy, and the children walked away, dissappointed. Some of them said foul and impolite things, angered by the lack of candy caused by Timmy and his mother’s absence.   Then one group of boys came by who weren’t dressed in costumes.


When no one responded to their baritone cries of “trick or treat!,” the boys threw eggs at Timmy’s apartment and wrote rude remarks with bars of soap on the apartment windows.  Then they picked up Bumpkin and ran off.

Bumpkin remained with those terrible boys through the night.  He was with them when they threw more eggs, sprayed shaving cream, and frightened other children.  The boys even used Bumpkin to terrify the littlest kids.  The boys would thrust Bumpkin into the faces of children and yell “boo!”  The little kids would look at Bumpkin, scream and run away crying.


Just before midnight, the boys climbed to the top of a building, ran over to the edge of the roof and threw Bumpkin down to the pavement below.  Bumpkin smashed into a million pieces.


But he didn’t die. 

In the morning someone swept up the pieces of Bumpkin and threw them into a garbage can.

As the pieces of Bumpkin lay there in the dark, smelly garbage can, Bumpkin heard a little boy crying.  It was Timmy, and he was crying because someone had stolen his first and most favorite jack-o-lantern.  Timmy’s mother came to comfort him.

“Don’t cry, dear. It was only a vegetable,” she said.

And then, alone in the trash, Bumpkin died.  





HEADLINE – Professor accused of running prostitution site

Posted in Artists Rights, Droit de Suite, Droit Moral, Embarrassing Butt-Shots, Family and Friends, Headline, Headlines, News, Our animal friends on June 21, 2011 by paulboylan


Professor David Flory

NEWARK, N.J. – A longtime New Jersey physics professor who dabbled in scuba diving and harbored dreams of working in the theater had another hobby, New Mexico police say: operating a prostitution website that may have catered to as many as 200 prostitutes and 1,200 clients.

David Flory was arrested Sunday at a Starbucks in Albuquerque, N.M., and charged with 40 counts of promoting prostitution.

“I never met the guy,” said Professor Paul Nicholas Boylan, of Davis, California. “I never saw him, never tweeted with him, never friended him on Facebook, never visited his website, never emailed him photographs of my crotch and never collaborated with him on any academic venture of any kind whatsoever,” Boylan insisted.


SOURCE –  http://news.us_professor_prostitution_website-

HEADLINE -Antarctic penguin colony vanishes

Posted in Family and Friends, Food, German Reformation Knock-Knock Jokes (1520-1553), Globalization, Headline, Headlines, Isnt nature wonderful?, News, Our animal friends, Science, The Wrath of God, Travel, Uncategorized, What are you sick or something?, Why do people in other countries talk funny? on April 27, 2011 by paulboylan

CHRISTCHURCH – A small colony of emperor penguins on an island off the West Antarctic Peninsula is gone, and the most likely culprit is a resident of Rio Grande, Argentina named Ted who thinks penguins are delicious.  

“I’m not saying I am the only cause for the disappearance of the entire colony, but I can tell you that they barbecue up real nice,” said Ted in a rare television appearance.

The researchers studying the situation, however, caution that their study is hampered by a lack of long-term information on just how delicious emperor penguins are,  both at the site in question and in general.

Emperor penguins are regal, if bulky, birds that stand as high as 4 feet (1.2 meters) and can weigh as much as 84 pounds (38 kilograms). This colony, first spotted in 1948 on an island dubbed Emperor Island, was a small one that had approximately 150 breeding pairs.

Observations are spotty, but the populations appear to have been relatively stable until the 1970s when Ted began visiting the island.  A report in 1978 showed a sharp drop in population, a trend that continued until an airplane survey found the island empty in 2009.

“All I know is that when I’m not eating penguin I am thinking about eating penguin, they are that delicious,” Ted added, “so I am especially concerned that the entire population on this island has been eaten – I mean wiped out by unknown and mysterious causes. Yeah, its a big mystery. I’m sure global warming had something to do with it,” Ted concluded prior to embarking to locate new and previously unknown emperor penguin colonies.





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