My doctors are letting me down and I’m not happy.

Shalom to you and yours from my happy little corner of Texas, where four days of relentless rain have turned our region into a gigantic, never-ending auto showroom of submerged vehicles, all driven by yahoos who didn’t realize their freeway underpass was actually 10 feet under water. A smattering of representative photographs appears below for your possible interest. Bottom line: IT’S EXTREMELY WET HERE.

Holy shit. Gino’s East pizza!

I wasn’t really planning to write another middle-of-the-night Howdygram post but my joints are killing me, I’m totally wide awake and there’s nothing else to do ... so what the hell, it’s your lucky day!

Yup, it’s still raining here.

It’s 11 p.m. on a really wet Friday night, and here are the top stories from Howdygram headquarters!

To the rescue: Marcy’s World-Famous Senior Citizen Thanksgiving Bowl.

So it’s 1:15 a.m. on the day after Thanksgiving — known to Americans far and wide as BLACK FUCKING FRIDAY — and I’m here to provide a complete rundown of my favorite food-centric holiday in real words. First, however, you should know that it’s been pouring here since mid-afternoon yesterday and the current map from Weather.com clearly illustrates what’s what right now. The yellow and orange thunderstorms are moving due east in the general direction of that teeny red star, which denotes Howdygram headquarters along with an actual photograph. The big hoo-hah will begin here in about 15 minutes.

Yee-haw! It’s Thanksgiving!

Good morning, how’s the family and HAPPY THANKSGIVING from your friends at Howdygram headquarters! While Sam and I wait impatiently for our turkey pick-up time at Boston Market, I will use this opportunity to announce that a shitload of rain is heading our way — four whole days of it — kicking off the festivities with a line of thunderstorms around 3:30 this afternoon. And the entire Dallas metro area is already under a Flood Watch due to our pathetic creeks spill over their banks even if somebody just spits at them.

I’ll just have to continue gasping, fainting and farting until I can reach my cardiologist.

Happy day-before-Thanksgiving to you and yours! I’d be interested to know how you celebrate this holiday, such as what are your favorite things to eat, do you cook, are you alone, are you wearing underwear and what’s for dessert. Thank you. Here at Howdygram headquarters we observe Sam & Marcy’s Annual Untraditional Thanksgiving Hoo-hah with an overpriced heat & serve turkey dinner for six from Boston Market — a nice easy-to-carve turkey breast, stuffing with fetal vegetables, mashed potatoes, tan gravy and a sack of gentile dinner rolls — followed by an undetermined number of William Powell and Myrna Loy movies while wearing bathrobes. If you think this sounds goddamn wonderful, you’d be right!

Don’t tell Sam that my new wheelchair is being delivered tomorrow on a 104-pound pallet.

There’s something seriously wrong with me today because my brain is fogged-in. After taking my 8 a.m. dose of Norco I’m slurring my words, I can’t hold a thought, I want to take a nice hot shower but I’m not sure I can walk all the way to the master bathroom, the toes on my right foot are numb and I want a couple of Schwan’s corn dogs for breakfast. I can’t explain any of this but thank you for paying attention.

I’m a goddamn mess. But I’m a happy goddamn mess.

It’s Monday, people, and I’m deliriously happy to start a fresh new week at Howdygram headquarters ... mostly because I can’t believe I survived a thoroughly miserable pain-filled Sunday during which I limped, moaned, kvetched, cried, shlepped and whined while consuming as many prescription painkillers as possible. GOD BLESS DRUGS. And although I swore to Sam I was feeling much better today, the truth is I’m only feeling somewhat better. The skin on the back of my thighs is hyper-sensitive and bleeding, my heels are killing me and my knees are stiff as a board. I’M A GODDAMN MESS. But I’m a happy goddamn mess. Here’s my most up-to-date Shit-O-Meter reading for your possible interest.

Instant Rice-A-Roni is an unappealing cup of tasteless, floating carbohydrates.

Shalom, yo, how’s the family and happy Saturday night from your friends at Howdygram headquarters! Sam is asleep in the family room watching Stagecoach (1939) starring John Wayne and I’m at my desk in the study trying to decide on something tasty to rehydrate for dinner because the cold leftover Five Guys hot dog that’s been relaxing on the coffee table since 1:45 this afternoon is NOT going to be enough food even with extra onions. (That was the goddamn weirdest lede I’ve ever written. Seriously.)

Fuck shoes and fuck brassieres.

Y’all will be pleased to know I’m feeling greatly improved today, which is very good news (for me, at least) and an encouraging sign as we head into another lovely north Texas autumn weekend ... even though I never leave the house, which would involve wearing shoes and a brassiere. FUCK SHOES AND FUCK BRASSIERES. Thank you.

All of a sudden the Howdygram is intensely popular in India. I have no idea why.

This has been a day of phenomenal accomplishments despite feeling pretty much like TOTAL SHIT since Sam left for work this afternoon. Today’s whine list includes all of the following.

For Republicans, Syrian refugees are the “new Ebola.”

I am so fucking sick of the bat-shit crazy Republicans that I’ve decided to try and write a news-free Howdygram post today, in protest. What’s causing today’s misery? A few headlines have included: 1) Turd Cruz challenging the president of the United States to a fight on American soil because Turd feels insulted; 2) Republicans want to turn away all Syrian refugees, conveniently forgetting that American bigots did the same thing to Jews fleeing the Nazis before World War II, resulting in six million deaths in concentration camps; and 3) ill-informed jackass Chris Christie tells CNN he refuses to believe that the Paris terrorists were European nationals and not Syrian refugees — which has already been proven — and blames President Obama because he didn’t set up a Syrian “no-fly zone,” even though ISIS doesn’t have an air force.

Donald Trump the real estate genius has just reinvented concentration camps.

Hi, people. I hope your day is swell so far. It’s 10 a.m., Sam is at Wal-Mart buying assorted tasty crap from a list and I’m hanging out with you and the Howdygram. Also drinking a can of Diet Sunkist soda because sometimes a girl needs faux vitamin C.

Amazon really fucked me up today.

Know what I love even more than a three-hour afternoon nap? THIS: Writing a post for the Howdygram. It’s therapeutic, creative, soul-cleansing and excellent goddam entertainment for you and the family, providing you’re all over the age of 17 and don’t mind a few swear words and left-wing political commentary. You get my drift.

Has your wee-wee ever looked like bayou sludge with alligators in it?

BIG FAT NEWS FLASH FOR EVERYBODY: It’s 2:30 Monday morning and I have another Shitty Mystery Fever! I woke up about an hour ago after a brief nap in the family room and BLAMMO ... I was shivering, I had body aches, my joints hurt like hell and I smashed a toe on the corner of our coffee table. (The smashed-toe incident has nothing whatsoever to do with a low-grade fever but I thought I’d throw it in because PAIN.) To cheer myself up I’ve decided to sit here at my desk in the study and entertain you for a while, okay?

The time Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson scared me to death in the family room.

I woke up this morning after insufficient sleep and had no idea what day it was. NO FUCKING IDEA. For a few minutes this was maybe the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, even scarier than the time I was asleep on the couch and woke up watching Giant — the scene where Jett Rink (James Dean) in old-man makeup gets so drunk at his own testimonial banquet that everybody walks out and leaves him alone to throw chairs and chew the scenery — and five of his guests (Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, Carol Baker, Chill Wills and Jane Withers) peek their faces through the door to see what the fuck is going on. I woke up from a nap with that “peeking” scene on the TV screen and hallucinated they were all peeking into the family room at ME. I started shrieking “GO AWAY!” until I realized I was freaking out at Rock Hudson and still half-asleep. Whoa.

I design all of the Howdygram’s graphics myself because I’m annoyingly creative.

Happy Saturday from Texas, guys. It’s 9:45 a.m., I’m on my second cup of tea, Sam is still asleep, and I want to share the following graphic because I’m so sick of the violence and misery I just want to PUKE already.

Please try not to eat any broken plastic if you can help it. And while you’re at it, try not to eat SpaghettiOs, either.

Good evening from Texas! The time at the tone — beep! — is 6:50 p.m., the temperature outside is a pleasant 56°, and dinner — a bag of Mountain House freeze-dried Noodles & Chicken for senior citizens — is rehydrating on my desk. While I wait for my food I’ve got several important things to cover in this post. One or two are deadly serious, others are mostly retarded bullshit. So let’s get started, shall we?

Runaway cows invade Mesquite, Texas.

Holy cow, people — and I mean this literally — I’ve got TWO HUGE AND JUICY NEWS STORIES for you today, and neither of them have anything whatsoever to do with Republicans for a change.

I want a nice hot meal once in a while without pestering other people.

It’s 3 a.m. and I’m in the study rehydrating a bag of Mountain House freeze-dried Biscuits & Gravy for senior citizens because I’M STARVING TO DEATH and this is the blandest food I can eat at this ridiculous hour and still go to bed afterwards without belching myself into the next county. I’m waiting for Sam to get home from work. He’ll probably be here by 4:30 if I can stay awake that long. We’ll see.

I don’t think I should be deprived of Sam’s feet more than two nights in a row.

Well, fuckity fuckity fuck! It’s 7:45 Wednesday night and Sam just called to let me know he’ll be at work again for the third night in a row until 4 o’clock in the morning. I HATE THIS. I want Sam to come home right now to eat snacks, watch a couple of William Powell movies and get some decent sleep. As for moi, I JUST WANT TO PLAY WITH SAM’S FEET. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you? I’m a desperate senior citizen with health issues and I don’t think I should be deprived of Sam’s feet more than two nights in a row.

Happy holidays, goddamn it.

Good morning and HAVE A REALLY HAPPY VETERANS DAY to all of you camo-lovers out there in Howdygramland! The only real military veteran I ever knew close-up was my father, who served in World War II. Here he is — looking very adorable at age 23 — in London in 1943 as a lieutenant navigator for the Army Air Corps.

Does Starbucks really hate Jesus, or are they just anti-reindeer?

It’s Tuesday evening here at Howdygram headquarters and I’ve been avoiding tonight’s GOP clown car debate due to the high risk of nausea if I have to listen to those shitbags again. Instead I’ve decided to write a nice post, answer a couple of emails and finish eating what’s left of a one-pound bag of Sweets & Beets® that Sam bought a few days ago at Costco. As the name implies these are sweet potato and beet chips (seriously), unsalted, colorful, very crunchy and mostly void of flavor. I could live without them but there’s nothing else to eat right now. What the fuck, right?

Jeb Bush admits that all lives don’t matter. He would gladly kill Baby Hitler in his crib.

I’ll begin this Howdygram post by showing off my BRAND NEW FREE FONTS, all downloaded this morning from a few of my favorite websites. If you want any or all of ’em for your own personal collection I’ll include links below the graphic so you can download them. Incidentally, a few of these fonts include multiple styles (especially Rubik and Milasian Circa), lots of alternate letters and other fancy-schmancy features. Check them out, okay? I LIVE FOR SHIT LIKE THIS. As a retired graphic designer the focus of my golden years involves creating terrific birthday and Hanukkah cards for my friends and relatives, so I still feel compelled to continue expanding my font collection because CREATIVITY. Get it?

Marcy the Movie Maven recommends ...

Hi, people. Before I forget, please allow Marcy the Movie Maven to recommend a bunch of terrific films this week because TCM is offering tributes to Edna May Oliver (November 9) and William Powell and Myrna Loy (November 10) in addition to a few good Norma Shearer whatnots from the early 1930s (also November 10). Ready, set ... RECORD!

Check out The Ben Carson Shrine to Psychotic Neurosurgeons Who Want to Rule the World.

Good morning, dear readers ... happy Sunday, shalom, what’s new and how’s the family! It’s a cool fall morning here at Howdygram headquarters, and I’m considering a nice toasted low-carb “everything” bagel for breakfast for the following three reasons: 1) I’m hungry; 2) I really like bagels; and 3) you can’t stop me. It’s only 5:57 a.m., however, so I’ll have to wait until Sam wakes up because I’m a senior citizen with mobility difficulties and can’t stand up in the kitchen long enough to tackle the various components of simple food preparation. Seriously.

I just bought myself new transportation due to unplanned ass expansion.

This is the biggest hoo-hah EVER, people! Sam let me buy my own belated birthday present today ... a brand new “SENTRA” BARIATRIC WHEELCHAIR by the wonderful people at Drive Medical who know how to build fancy transportation for large handicapped senior citizens! I ordered it this afternoon from Amazon and delivery is expected sometime next week. A nicely-detailed diagram appears below for your possible interest.

My favorite book: “Touch Typing in Two Weeks for Creative Young Children with Irritating Mothers.”

After eight years in the “blogging business” I honestly don’t know what I love most about the Howdygram — typing it, composing it, designing it or creating really cute always-changing shit for the right sidebar. Believe it or not, I’ve been producing weird crap in one form or another for other people to read — i.e., illustrated homemade magazines, comic books, short stories, newsletters and an early draft of a book: “Memoir of an Escaped Dental Patient” — ever since dad gave me a Smith-Corona manual typewriter for my seventh birthday with a typewriter case, two ribbons and a how-to manual titled “Touch Typing in Two Weeks for Creative Young Children with Irritating Mothers.” It was cheaper (and probably more effective) than therapy.

Y’all hold a good thought for us. These clowns are the Lone Star State’s future legislators.

Hello, friends. It’s 8 p.m. Wednesday night and I’m parked at my desk in the study pondering what I should do next. I can continue typing, which is always a favorite fun activity for me, or I can haul myself into our luxurious remodeled shower, shpritz myself with soap and water for half an hour and emerge smelling EXCELLENT. Door number two sounds like my best bet since smelling excellent is always an attainable goal for senior citizens.

“Mr. Peepers” has ended his presidential campaign.

If you thought I wasn’t going to write Howdygram post today you’d be dead wrong, obviously, because here I am at my desk in the study with a can of diet ginger ale, writing today’s post! If you want to know why it’s taken me all day to get around to this, we can blame it on the chaise lounge (pictured below) in our family room. I fell asleep at 3:15 this afternoon and woke up at 7:45. Oy, right?

At last ... a public service announcement that doesn’t involve E. coli, salmonella or Listeriosis!

Yesterday was my 64th birthday. Therefore:

Happy birthday to me, 

Happy birthday to me, 

Happy birthday dear mee-eee,

Happy birthday to me!