From the Magic 8 Ball to Siri

Seems to me that the world’s becoming smarter and smarter … if you’re talking digital, not biological life.

Based on the last few weeks and our politics, however, I’d say the biological side seems to be getting dumber and dumber.

But in our household, we’ve taken steps to combat that slide and boost our access to “AI” … Artificial Intelligence.

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This slippery slope started for me with the old Magic 8-Ball … Mattel’s 1950’s fortune teller designed for kids.

A 20 sided icosahedral die floated in a bluish liquid … and when turned over, in a small window the 8-Ball revealed its answer to any question asked.

I spent hours with it … and still have one to guide me through my tougher days … which appear with great frequency thanks to the Freeing of OJ, the White House being occupied by a man with “Hooker Hair” … and a mountain of evidence that Mother Nature is really pissed.

For the sake of full disclosure, I also have an “Ask Jesus” and an “Ask Buddha.”  Just making sure I’ve covered all my bases.

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Not too long ago, my wife, who’s never consulted any of my personal Oracles, somehow allowed Siri to join our household.

I have no clue where Siri came from or how she became a member of our family … I just know she’s here because I hear my wife talking with her regularly.

In fact, she talks with Siri more than she talks with me … though I haven’t heard her say “Goodnight, Siri” … yet.

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Before Siri, I enjoyed a secure family position … as “The Answer Man.”

Even Rani, our standard poodle who has the intellectual abilities of a toddler, looked to me for guidance.

But now, when I hear a question I pause before I volunteer the full depth of my understanding of all facets of life.  I’ve learned to rather timidly say … “Are you asking Siri, or me?”

It’s a real blow to my very fragile ego to no longer be The Source for all answers … good, bad, true, false … whether data or knowledge is required.

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But … before you feel too sorry for me, you need to know I’ve drawn my own “red line in the sand” … there’ll never be a “Smart Refrigerator” in my house!

A man’s gotta know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em.

Just sayin’ …

45’s Amazing Disappearing Cabinet

“You’re fired!”

“You can’t fire me … I quit!”

This dialog, once reserved only for “The Apprentice,” now reverberates throughout the halls of the West Wing.

Who’s next to go?  Las Vegas odds makers placed “even money” on …

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Rex “I’ll-Never-Admit-I-Called-The-F**king-Moron-A-F**king-Moron” Tillerson

Steven “My-New-Wife’s-Really-Nice-Once-You-Get-To-Know-Her” Mnuchin

Ryan “I’ll-Get-That-Alaska-Senate-Witch-Yet” Zinke

Jeff “I’m-NOT-A-Keebler-Elf” Sessions, and

Scott “Wow-I-Never-Thought-They-Would-Get-Price” Pruitt.

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As for other Cabinet officers … their positions are inconsequential.  They might as well be ambassadors to Nambia or some other place 45 can’t pronounce, remember, or has made up in his not-so-fertile imagination.

Hey, Newt and his wife, Caligula … oops, I mean Callista, are hanging with Pope Frank in “The Vat” … that’s not a bad gig.

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Cabinet members make a lousy $199,700 … so the big question is:  Who would be stupid enough to put up with 45 for that?  The Speaker of the House gets $237,500 and better vacation time … plus, he doesn’t have to perform a daily pucker-and-plant on 45’s big fat ass.

Switch-out rumors flew through the White House Press Corps about 45’s “first lady” – Ivana – replacing Tillerson.  According to leaks, 45 thought she’d be a shoo-in … a “natural” with her “yuuge and biggly” thick foreign accent.

Melania quickly squelched that when she bitch-slapped her Balkan cousin last week like only the real First Lady could!

Then she gave 45 “that look” … and he caved in a New York minute.

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From his perch high atop Breitbart, Steve “I’m-Still-The-Power-Behind-The-Thrown” Bannon suggested 45 hold a “Red State Lottery” and pick someone from his base to be the next member of his cabinet.

Pick now … replace later … that way there’d be a smooth transition when a vacancy occurred.

Qualifications?  Fuh-ged-about-‘em!  No one in the current cabinet’s qualified.

Security clearances?  Not a problem … just ask Jared to help fill out the security forms.

At least there’d be one person in 45’s base who actually got one of the jobs he promised during his campaign … and government health care, too.

It’s a win-win!

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And, there’s always room for another retired general in the cabinet.  According to census data 4,700 of ‘em are still alive and kicking … and looking for a war … any war!

And if that doesn’t float your boat, past contestants from “Apprentice” have all written their names on slips of paper and tossed them in a hat which sits on 45’s “Oval Orifice” desk.

The possibilities appear to be endless.

Just sayin’ …

The Dead Man Fanny Pack

Did ya miss me?  Huh?  Huh?

So I’m trying to catch-up after almost two weeks of being in digital lockdown thanks to Hurricane Irma.

While “speed reading” thru emails and junk mail … BTW, I love my SPAM mail …  I catch a headline …”Dead Man Fanny Packs.”

I immediately think … blog material!

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First thoughts … is this a Fanny Pack for a dead man, or for the sake of PC’ness … Dead Person?

If so, then said dead person can carry some personal possessions to a Final Destination because, tucked neatly under his final suit jacket at his funeral, he’s wearing a … “Dead Man Fanny Pack” purchased directly from the funeral home for a small added cost.

I like that image.

It’s kinda like the burial traditions of other civilizations where personal possessions accompanied the deceased on their journey forward to the next world … or final resting place.

My Dad coulda used more golf balls for his afterlife trip.  He had a penchant for losin’ them … a terrible golfer.

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Second thoughts … Hmmm, maybe this is a Fanny Pack based on Thomas Harris’ “Silence of the Lambs.”  In addition to the gourmet cook and crazy man, Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lector, he gave us that quintessential serial killer, “Buffalo Bill” … the guy who got off on skinning women to remake “skin suits.”

Fanny Packs made from human skins … “Dead Man” Fanny Packs!

No way … a lotta weird stuff’s sold on the Internet but I think that one’s a stretch.

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By now I’ve turned to Dr. Google for the answer to my way overly fertile imagination.

Turns out that the Dead Man Fanny Pack’s a Halloween promotional item based on the Mexican celebration … “Dia de los Muertos,” or “Day of the Dead.”  Crap … and here I thought I had a rabbit to run that was very seriously absurd.

But I did notice one company selling the Packs was ironically seriously absurd … promoting their Dead Man Fanny Pack with a “lifetime guarantee.”

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Apparently, the only thing serious and absurd about this topic is my brain.  But, then you know that while I only suspect it.

Just sayin’ …

Killer Fashions: “You too, can stand your ground, look good, and quick-draw!”

When the models strut down this high fashion runway, you’d better duck for cover.  They’re all packin’ and you’ll be the last to know … ‘cause you’re watching a “Concealed Carry Fashion Show!”

It’s the hottest fashion show to hit the scene since Victoria’s Secret Angel’s got their wings.  No competition from Vickie’s Angels … in their show, they don’t conceal anything!

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Playing “hide and seek” with your gun’s allowed now in all 50 of our somewhat united states.

Gone is the “Goth-Hit-Man-Black-Trench-Coat” look of the misfit teen shooters at Columbine High School.  The NRA’s moved on to another capitalist high value money target.

And now they’ve created the “lookin’-good-while-you-carry” market to exploit the fastest growing group of US gun owners … WOMEN!!

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Look for big changes in “first date” protocols.

Women won’t be victimized by “kiss and tell” when they can “stand their own ground” and say … “Kiss and tell?  I’ll blow your punk-ass away!”

A confused groping guy mumbles … “Is that a .38 in your bra, or are you a 38?”

A man approaches … and, with a wink you use that old Mae West line … “Is that a Glock in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”

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Yep … designers have holsters for anywhere you can hide an armament on your body.  And gun manufacturers have custom complementary gun colors to match.

At the 2017 NRA “Concealed Carry Fashion Show,” one of the hottest items was “Lethal Lace” … a sexy wraparound holster strapped to a woman’s waist or thigh.

You can almost hear the TV commercial … “Come to Victoria’s Secret first … then duck into Smith and Wesson for your matching custom colored ‘tuck-away.’”

If you want to carry “off-body,” Gun Purses with special compartments for your weapon of choice set you back a few hundred bucks.

If you opt for the Non-PETA approved ostrich or crocodile skin, it’ll run you several thousand!

With a Gun Purse, there’s plenty of room for makeup, cash, credit cards … mace, pepper spray and a spare condom … along with your “sexy bang-bang” and extra ammo clips.

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Wait a minute … you won’t believe this!

I just learned that Texas also grants open carry for swords!

If you don’t want to shoot ‘em … you can stick ‘em!

Whatta a great opportunity for self-expression!  Texas, you folks rock!

Just sayin’ …

Take that, you turkey!

From Maine to Iowa, and Wisconsin to California, people are reporting vicious unprovoked attacks.  Their attackers lurk in front yards, bushes and trees.

No one’s safe!

After years of exploitation and holiday appearances on gluttonous festive fall tables, it appears that it’s “pay back time” for Americans.  Yes … it’s a matter of revenge and repayment.

After clawing their way back from near extinction to over 7 million strong, the wild turkey has come home to roost … and we’re in their roosting territory!

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Most recently it seems these wild and reckless gobblers are switching roles from the hunted to the hunters.  Just ask the denizens of Stamford, CT.

Connecticut Yuppies, Preppies, and filthy rich have been feeding the wild fowl and now they’re screaming, “Foul!” because turkeys don’t seem to give a “turkey scat” about their social status, cars, or Ivy League credentials.

The Turkeys want their land back and they want it now!  They’re enraged numbers are high enough to scare the whale blotched pants and Lily skirts off all those Preppies!

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Move over, Rover.  Chewing on the mail man’s no longer your sole domain.

Turkeys have usurped your favorite targets … US Postal Carriers.

“Turkey-sperts” – my name for self-appointed Turkey Behavioral Experts – explain that the regularity of postal schedules allows these bird brains to establish a behavioral pattern.

Now, they hide in waiting for their shot at new game … “Postal Hunt-n-Peck!”

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These same “avian-nists” warn people … “When you’re under attack, do not turn and run.  This just makes the turkey ‘bolder.’”

Bolder?  WTF?  How frickin’ bold can a turkey be?

We’re talkin’ big fat feathery birds that gobble better than they can fly.  We’re not talkin’ Grizzly Bears or Bengal Tigers!  It’s 12’ish pounds of feathers armed with a beak and a wattle.

C’mon man – stand your ground!

Stop … take aim … and drop kick that “Feathered Butterball” into your neighbor’s yard.

And speakin’ of “taking aim,” if unlike most gun owners you can hit the bird and not your own toe or nether regions … “turkey trot” to your mailbox locked and loaded and with a single shot, blow your potential Thanksgiving dinner into the street!

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Given all this turkey uproar, I wonder if “L’orange 45” will continue the November tradition of Presidential pardons.

Probably … past turkeys pardoned have been American bred … and white!

That would give him three free white birds since he’s already pardoned his first “turkey” – ex-sheriff Joe Arpaio!

Just sayin’ …

What to do with all that bronze?

Aargh … we’re in the middle of another Bronze Age.  But this one’s different.

It’s all about what we can do with the 1500+ Confederate symbols scattered across the country… of which 750+ are Confederate war statues.

Ideas are pouring into the central office of Seriously Absurd with the “sound and fury” of a Willie Shakespeare play.

Excuse me … I gotta head to the “Throne Room” and brainstorm what to do with all this s**t!

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One suggestion … replicate the Amarillo, TX Cadillac Ranch featuring the statues buried ass-up with heads in the sand … or maybe vice-versa?  Nope … we’ve got 750+ statues and the Cadillac Ranch is only 10 ‘Lacs large!

Another … smelt down the statues and shape the molten metal into doorstops for all the Trump properties.  Nope … we know he’d never pay the final bill!

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But of course … Here’s the winner … Florida’s #1 commodity … theme parks!

Ta Da! … Johnny Reb’s Guns & Galleries … a new Florida theme park!

It’s a sure shot to be another major draw in Central Florida’s unending “War for the Tourist Buck.”

Take over one of the many struggling Florida malls … massive land parcels readily available … ample parking … crying for investors.

Not to give away too many details, but the purveyors of White Hate could solve several of their problems in one central spot … and it would all be legal!

Pssst … don’t tell them they’d be paying taxes.  That’d royally piss ‘em off!

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JR’sG&G … a legitimate outlet to vent pent up negative behavior and emotions!

Jobs! Jobs! Jobs!  Suitable for undereducated & unskilled white males!

EZ Gun Sales … use Florida’s weekend “Gun Show Loophole” and get your weapon on-the-spot!

Florida’s the “Vacation State” … indoctrinate your progeny at an early age with discounts for repeat visits.

Hone your hate and bile skills at Johnny Reb’s Guns & Galleries.

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It’s “Eden-esque” for Civil War statues.  Scattered throughout JR’sG&G, it’ll be like they never left home!

Visit the Disney knock-off “Hall of Dissidents” … see and hear your favorite historical Southern Treasonist and his plan to overthrow the “US Gubmint!”

And be sure to stop at Ford’s Theatre to catch the Abe Lincoln Assassination … a special one act play featuring live actors!

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What better way to expose hate in our society than to monetize it in the klieg lights of an amusement park …  capitalism and Johnny Reb’s … they kinda go together!

Just sayin’ …

Oh My … 45’s* still with us! …………………………………………………………… (*Many now refer to Trump as “45” … not President.)

I was desperately searching for non-45 related blog ideas trying to break free from the “He-who-shall-not-be-mentioned” malaise fogging my brain, reducing my food cravings, and maximizing my urge for self-destructive behavior.

I found some non-sciencers who think the solar eclipse is the “Devil’s Spawn.”  Potential fun there.

The Smurf Village in Juzcar, Spain lost its right to be known as “Smurf Village” over a royalties dispute with Smurf heirs.  That’s sad … and seriously absurd.

I shelved TSA pat downs, shopping at WalMart without WalMartians, and the Underwear Guys as potential high level absurdities.

Sorry … but I can’t dodge 45’s self-inflicted Charlottesville non-Nuclear Holocaust.

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Don’t ya just love it when he Trump-Dumps the script?

Over a three day span, 45 uncloaked himself as the racist-bigoted-xenophobic- narcissistic-halfwit we all suspected lurked under that orange mop of hair and falsely reported 6’3” frame.

He bobbed and wove his way through this past weekend’s white nationalist hate fest spewing his warped view of facts, history and intentions as he stripped himself … unfortunately before our eyes … butt-naked and became the self-declared emperor who has no clothes.

Except maybe for the extra long tie needed to hide his genitalia … which BTW, no woman in her right mind would ever want to grab.

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The White Deploracists – I refuse to recognize them as “Supremacists” at anything – stormed Charlottesville ostensibly to protest the removal of a Robert E. Lee statue.  Dressed in paramilitary garb, armed with military styled weaponry, shields and combat helmets, they resembled Storm Troopers more than ordinary citizens coming to town to “voice their opinion.”

What I ask is … “Why did the Deploracists come to defend a ‘Loser’?”

Surely if 45’s already labeled John McCain a Loser … Bobby E. Lee’s gotta be a Loser, too.  He lost an entire damn war!

Harsh?  You ain’t seen nuttin’ yet.

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People voted for 45 thinking he was the “Great Uniter” … he promised to bring all the big deal making biz folks into governing councils to “clean up the swamp.”

Hmmm … as of Wednesday, these Biz Leaders couldn’t get away, far enough or fast enough, from 45’s crash and burn false equivalency remarks, followed by his “hostage speech,” finished with his “Beat the Press” show.

“You’re all fired,” blustered a totally confused and flustered 45 just after receiving the mass resignation of almost 50 of our nation’s most prominent biz people.

They’d heard and had enough of 45 as the “Defiler in Chief.”

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One thing about 45 … he’s consistent.

He’s at best diminished and at worst destroyed everyone who’s entered his penumbra during his seven incredibly long months in office.

Aaah … excuse me while I dream of 46!

Just sayin’ …

Google Guy Opens Mouth … Inserts Size 13 Foot!

Uhoh … Google’s done it again.  Yes … on the famed Google Campus … that jewel of openness and corporate camaraderie … the place where everyone else would love to be.

Yep, that Google.

The nasty, dirty, warty, abusive underbelly of their ideal workplace environment … and unbelievable cafeteria options … has been crudely and rudely pushed in front of the public for everyone to see.

And they owe it all to one guy!  What a surprise.

There’s a man in the workplace who hasn’t learned to keep his fricking’ mouth shut and who then stupidly makes a public statement.

And in case you haven’t read his 10 page memo, he insisted that women can’t handle work place stress and that’s why there’s so few of them in his department.

He was fired?  Great.

But why wasn’t he stripped naked and forced to run through a gauntlet of pissed- off-stressed-out-women as he exited the Google Campus?

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“Going Postal” … since 1986, we’ve all heard that phrase.  Guess what?  Only one damn woman has shot up a Post Office.  Ever!

I haven’t found one headline, or lead into a news story, or breaking news TV special that covers an armed, angry woman barging into the workplace and gunning down hapless employees because she’s been passed over for a promotion … or worse, fired.

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What about “Mass Murderers?”

When’s the last time a woman and her BFFs ran through their school hallways with automatic weapons in each hand and sprayed the student body?

And when the FBI searched her house, was her suburban bedroom filled with explosives, boxes of armor piercing ammo, and extra weaponry … just to express her outrage and feelings of rejection for not making the cheering squad?

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And … let’s not forget it’s not the working women who come home drunk and kick their hubby’s ass simply because they’re pissed off about losing their female superiority and can’t handle the stress of the workplace!

Oh … and it’s definitely not the women sexually abusing their sons because they’re too f**ked up sexually to express themselves in acceptable ways.

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C’mon Google Guy … you’re a way overpaid white male in a dream job in dream corporate environment.

Sure, improvements can be made … but at least you’re working for someone who’s not busy suing the government about covering birth control, whining about health care, or arguing about paying you the minimum wage.

Just sayin’ …

I tried making friends without Facebook

The other day I was thinking about the “good old days.”  You know … the ones before Facebook.

I tried to recall what I did to “make friends.”  It seemed to be really easy for me, but I wondered:  Maybe I’ve lost that touch since most of my friend-making now involved a “mouse click.”

I set out to see what would happen if I tried to make friends with people who I really didn’t know, but were included in the 317 Friends I list on Facebook.  My best guess is that 15 or so are folks I would call “a friend” 12+ years ago … before Facebook launched.

So I found the phone number and I called the first guy who I’ve never had a personal conversation with, but is on my list of “Close Facebook Friends.”

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“Hi FBF (Facebook Friend – I’m not using his real name).

“This is Richard Huss … we’re friends on Facebook.  I’m sure you’ve read my posts even though I don’t recall getting any ‘Likes’ from you.

“I thought it would be fun to actually talk to each other … you know, face-to-face … kinda like non-digital, real friends used to do once-and-a-while.”

My FBF doesn’t respond which causes an embarrassing pause.

“This IS so-and-so … isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

Oh boy … I’ve broken the ice and this could be my first BFF-FBF (Best Friend Forever-Facebook Friend).  I feel goose bumps popping up on my arms.

“Who did you say this is?”

“Richard Huss, from Facebook.  You’re one of my Close Facebook Friends.”

“Hmm … do you have a photo posted?  I’m having trouble placing you.”

“Well … we can solve that.  I live here in Mount Dora and I see on your page that you live here, too.  I thought maybe we could get together and chat … face-to-face … not a chat room chat.  You know … have a beer, some wine, or coffee if you don’t drink.”

There’s a longer pause.  I’m sweating a bit now.  My goose bumps are history.

My almost BFF-FBF takes a breath and says, “Let me check your Facebook page.  What’s your cell number?”

I give him my number and he says, “I’ll call you back.”  Then breaks the connection.

Wow … a non-digital rejection.  That really hurt. This friend making seems tougher than I remember.

Maybe I should drop his status to “Acquaintance.”

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In a bit of a funk, I go find my wife.  “Hi hon … wanna go get a drink and chat with each other?

We’re out the door before you can say “Martini.”

I think … I don’t recall getting any “Likes” from her either.  But then, that would be kinda weird if she started doing that.

We talked like good friends … and, it was a “heluva Martini.”

Just sayin’ …

If I had it to do all over again … Dream Weddings

I dunno about you, but there are few things in my life I’d redo.

That doesn’t mean that I’ve been that good … it just means that my mistakes didn’t occur where there were lawyers or cops around.

But then I read in The Huffington Post that you can “dream your own wedding” and that caught my attention.

We’re not talking about the trite “Let’s get married in the park, back yard or vacant lot” kinda venue!  They’re all passé … mundane even.  Been there done that.

Let’s see … if I wanted to retie the matrimonial knot with my bride, what’s out there for me?

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Now when you want to connect-the-dot with your bride, you can connect at “The Bell.”

For $600 they’ll plan your wedding … including Doritos Tacos Locos, Chalupas, cheesy Gordita Crunches, and a deluxe Cinnabon wedding cake!  Hmm, “Yummy in my Tummy!”

To paraphrase a recent Taco Bell bride and groom:

“…. We’ll be talking about our wedding long after your church wedding for a hundred grand is a dim memory!  Take that to the bank!”

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Other fast food chains – here and abroad – are offering “wedding packages” for couples who want to get hitched, have some fun and keep their cash in their bank accounts.

McDonalds offers several matrimonial packages … but so far only in Hong Kong.

I you make that trip for your trip down Mickey D’s plastic-nuptial-aisle, just be sure the fries are hot … nothing ruins a wedding like greasy cold French Fries.  And you’ll enjoy a delicious 3-tier “Double Apple Pie Box Cake” for your wedding cake!

If you’re into pizza, check out D.C.’s &Pizza chain for their “Pi Day Las Vegas Chapel” wedding package.

For my non-nerd friends, that’s Pi Day as in 3.14 … as in 3/14 meaning March 14th … get it?

Don’t forget Pizza Hut … they’ll hold your Pre-wedding Engagement Party for a mere $10,010, which includes a red ruby ring … the extra ten buck’s for your personal Pizza Hut Dinner Box for two!

Go ahead … Pop the question at Pizza Hut and then hit “The Bell” to tie the knot!

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If you’re really adventurous, there’s still one HoJo’s open in the USA … Lake George, New York.

Remember the fried Clams and 28 flavors of ice cream?  Check with the owners …  I bet they’d love to package a ceremony for you.

You could be among the last to get married under an “Orange Roof” that truly “Made America Great!”

Just sayin’ …