Category Archives: Humor

Downtown Dummies – An Art Installation Sponsored by Prank Sinatra

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I keep lists of jokes, ideas, and amusing things to amuse my amusing self. Last year while I was walking before sunrise in downtown Springdale, I burst out laughing with one of them.

I’ve been secretly fantasizing about an idiotic prank for quite a while. I’ve browsed on eBay, Amazon, and retail clearance websites trying to get a reasonable cost to purchase several dozen mannequins. The best cost I could devise was about $750. Three weeks ago, I could have purchased an entire lot, clothing included, from a defunct retailer.

After purchasing all the mannequins and keeping them in a self-storage unit, I’d rent a U-Haul. Early in the morning, I would drive around downtown Springdale and strategically place the dummies in key places. (Benches, leaning on walls, astride Spring Creek, behind patrol cars, etc.) It occurred to me that I could create a story if I was creative enough in my implementation. (With the epilogue involving me getting bailed out of jail, I presume.)

I even had a list of explanations if I were caught. I’d say, “It’s an art project for the Revitalization District.” Or, I’d say, “Look at that!” and as the person looked, I’d run like hell in any possible direction.

If I keep my movements low-key, no one will think twice about dummies downtown. There are always several standing or loitering around down there and several have been elected to keep the city running. Just kidding, Doug. I’m a big fan, with the exception of that horrendous city logo – the one which invokes an image of the floor of a New York City Taxi when I look at it.

I’ve had more fun thinking about doing this than you might expect.

I’ll probably never do it now, especially after sharing it with everyone.

If there’s anyone out there reading this, though, it would make an excellent prank.

It would also make a beautiful art project if it were planned with care.

Still Looking For a List?

I watched a soccer match yesterday. I thought it was a soccer match. It turned out to be a group of hipsters chasing an empty Walmart bag.

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I went to the convenience store and read the cashier’s mind. Or, I tried to. It was in Braille.

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I accidentally revealed how I really feel about my boss. He mentioned that he had to go home for a few minutes and I asked him what side of town he kept his crypt.

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I’ve been cleared of the doping allegations. In other news, I need to engage in a sport to be banned for doping – and recreational eating still isn’t on ESPN.

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The more someone says, “No one reads anymore,” the more certain I am that he or she is really saying, “I don’t read anymore.” – X

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Rarer than the North Carolina Unicorn: the Venn Diagram of Surprise Parties and Cardiac Rehab.

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The sign said “Act Now!” so I did my best William Shatner-as-Macbeth impression.

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Investment Tip: join me in buying stock in the new internet prosthetic eye company. Fill-In-The-Blink, Inc.

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I know a guy named Chip Mhoon. The ‘H’ in his name is always silent – unlike him, who never is.

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Reciprocity Observation: How would you feel if the shoe were on the other foot-in-the-mouth?

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Sorry about the explosive mix-up at the fancy supermarket. It turns out the bagging clerk asked me, ” Paper or Plastique ? ”

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“Hunger Strike” sounds exactly like a version of bowling wherein the bowler who misses all the pins isn’t allowed to eat for at least 48 hours.

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“You know that age is winning the race when a youngster (anyone under 35) asks, “What’s your favorite summer jam?” and you reply with the name of any fruit.” – X

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Four hours later, I’m finished: I built an old pallet out of a coffee table.

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“Of violins, he spoke with eloquence, though his heart was tuned to a banjo of unknown origin.” – X

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I think it’s a strange spectacle how we go about our day, with a universe of ideas and stories in our heads. The oblique truth always finds a soft place to land.

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May your day be a multitude of happy moments…

Looking For Something?

If you don’t want an appetizer, you should always order a non-starter.

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After carefully observing these Anointed States of America over the last few days, it’s my opinion that the porous border isn’t the problem. It’s our porous brains, capable of so much, yet mired in the lesser.

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Terminix will no longer talk to me. I called asking for help with a major pest infestation that needed immediate attention. “Address?” they asked me. “The White House, and make it pronto.”

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I think I ate too much. As I got up to leave, the hostess looked at my stomach and then handed me a bottle of prenatal vitamins.

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I wouldn’t say they were mad but they were steamed vegetables.

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Jason’s obituary: “Killed By Bears” was the tragic and violent headline.

That’s a LOT of gummy bears.

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Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum Wi-Fi: Like regular wireless internet, except you have to climb a 100-ft. tower to use it.

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He said, “I stopped eating red meat, smoking, and drinking.”

To which I replied, “Yeah but it is the fact that you are an ass that is the problem.”

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I am going to do one of those white trash shows for TLC. My plan is to pretend to be backwater rednecks who have educational jobs. I’m calling it “Cleverly Hillbillies.” -X
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I wasn’t feeling quite right that day, so I drove to work entirely on Off Ramps.

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If you have more than one vowel in your name, you are selfish. Somewhere, a kid named Kpdnm is really unhappy.

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Why is there “Texas toast,” but not “Texas French Toast?” Is that too much geography for breakfast?

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“I don’t want to be shielded from my own stupidity. And I doubt that anyone makes a shield that large, anyway.” – X

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A realtor friend of mine invited me to a “Parade of Homes.” Worst band and floats I’ve ever seen.

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People with concealed carry permits concern me because it’s like they’re hiding something.

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I warmly embraced Friday, a sign that commerce is still a victor in this battle.

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What’s The Worst Thing Imaginable?

As Jeff was leaving the doctor’s office, his phone rang. It was his realtor. He went home and found his wife seated at the kitchen table. She was nervously waiting for him.

They had bought a new house and had drastically adjusted their lives to accommodate the changes it would bring when they moved.

“Susie, I’ve got some bad news and worse news,” Jeff told his wife.

“What’s the bad news?” She nervously asked.

“The cyst is malignant and I have to have it surgically removed next week, followed by 8 weeks of chemo.” Jeff hated to tell her.

“Oh no! Ok, though. We’ll deal with it.” Susie almost shouted. “What’s the worse news?”

She couldn’t imagine worse news than a malignant cyst but she prepared herself for the worst possible thing imaginable.

After a pause, Jeff told her “Our new house is subject to an HOA.”

A Song I Wrote To Amuse Myself (NSFW Language)

 

I made this from a friend’s social media. She posted a short video of her scaring her husband. Something about it tickled my funny bone.

Instead of obsessing over making the song in my head, I made something that would scratch the itch of wanting to do ‘something’ without spending 15 hours making a song I’d end up hating.

 

I laugh at this one!

 

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Don’t Read This, Either: A List

“Stop a problem early.” That is why I kidnapped that SOB driving the ice cream truck around the neighborhood blaring that horrible music. #AprilSurprise

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I knew my doctor didn’t really like me. When I told him I was having breathing problems, he prescribed me an exhaler.

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Possible causes of anger:
1) Perceptive awareness
2) Underwear two sizes too small

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It turns out that the addition of a “Caution: crate contains 1 vampire” sign adds just the right amount of confused double-takes and laughter to the day…

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“He was so dangerous that the judge set the bond just for his booking photo at 1 million dollars.” – opening line from my next true-crime novel.

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Blank stare. That’s all I got when I told my co-worker that Neil Diamond’s classic song “Sweet Caroline” was actually a homage to cannibalism.

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To calculate the area of a circle, just multiply the radius squared by pi. To calculate the incoherence of the current president, just look at the face of his full-time sign language interpreter – the one with occupational Tourette Syndrome and arthritic middle finger.

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For everyone who is taking the time to early vote for me in Washington County, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you that you’re probably high.

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“…it was a place where one simply knew that family trees weren’t fully-branched…” -X

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Early this morning as I exited the auxiliary building, I heard high-pitched screaming and shouts of pain and anguish. False alarm. Someone was sitting in their car listening to a Luke Bryan song with the windows down.

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I ain’t saying the officer was racist, but he did have an ACLFU bumper sticker on his patrol car.

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This joke was written specifically to irritate a friend of mine: “I don’t mind that Chik-fil-A is closed on Sundays. I just wish they’d take a good idea and make it great by closing the other 6 days of the week, too.”

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I took a long walk this morning on strange roads, before the sun arrived. Later, I opted to walk again, even though it was apparently 150 degrees here.

To the drivers on St. Loius St., my apologies. As I walked up the long, slow incline heading toward downtown Batesville, a vengeful bug flew into my left nostril. Not content with being stuck there in my nasal cavern, it struggled and burrowed. I immediately convulsed like I had just attended a Cook-Your-Own-Skunk competition. I’m not sure how long I attempted to expel the insect invader.

But it did choose to exit through the back of my nose and from my mouth. The result looked like a madman’s spilled petri dish.

My nose feels like my ears do when I listen to Luke Bryan attempt a series of high notes without causing the neighborhood dogs to bark and howl.

Bugs: 1. X: 0

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I knew the movie was going to be crappy. The standard warning had been modified to say, “…this feature is intended for manure audiences only.”

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I don’t agree with torture. On the other hand, Luke Bryan provides a positive example where it works.

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My latest effort, “The Smell of Music,” didn’t go over as well as I had hoped.

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The classic oldies song “In The Still Of The Night,” it turns out, is not a homage to nocturnal alcohol production.

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The professor was at first confused by the complete lack of spaces In all of his student’s final papers – until he saw the headline: ” Local Area Hit By Blank Robber.”

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“Her name was Charles, which annoyed almost everyone.” – The first line of the next great American novel.
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It seems that the disgruntled man would have to continue to walk off-kilter and with pained gait for the rest of his life. The stick up his rear, it turns out, was a pre-existing condition.
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I’m handing out canned goods today. To random strangers.
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My friend Jeff invited me to go shooting. It’s not my fault that he didn’t ask me to wait until we exited his SUV. Sorry, Interstate 49 and specifically Exit 72.
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Our romantic evening evaporated when we discovered that our gondola was traversing a root canal.
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I was listening to a band sing 80s hits and became more and more uncomfortable and hot. Finally, it dawned on me. It was a cover band.
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Need a quick nickname for a co-worker who is incompetent and mean? Forrest Grump.
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“It’s always good to be prepared,” goes the cliche. Hansel and Gretel were prepared. Literally. By a cannibalistic witch. #Impreciseenglish
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I bought a new cabinet for my living room. It came with both a Secretary of Interior and Secretary of Defense.
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I sprayed for pests yesterday. The Purchasing Department took it personally.
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My apologies for the intense meteorological conditions.The high winds are in fact a result of my boss givng his Daily Status Report.
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My apologies for the intense meteorological conditions.The high winds are in fact a result of my boss givng his Daily Status Report.
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I started my new constipational martial arts class. It’s taught by Jean-Claude Van Bran.
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My new vegetable-based monetary system rolls out today: Bitcorn.
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Why isn’t a door prize called an “Enterprize”?
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Politics may concern me, but not nearly as much as the heart palpitations I experience when I hear a can of Pringles open in my presence or the rip of a newly-opened bag of Doritos.
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To save money, I built the new shelf in the living room with a karate saw.
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I ain’t saying my wife’s texts are long – but Penguin Books just sent her an unsolicited book advance bonus.
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My proposed budget at work was a masterpiece; it got nominated for the 2018 Fantasy Writer’s Award.
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Instead of asking “How old are you?” at liquor stores and cigarette shops, they should ask, “How old were you on August 15th, 2009?” It’s math, verification, and hilarity all rolled into one package.
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I went to turn myself in to the Springdale Police Department. They rejected me, telling me I needed to commit a crime first. I think they could have worded their advice a little better.
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In a new twist, the bank tellers now all wear masks and hoodies.
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Furlongs Per Fortnight

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Assuming that everyone has the same frame of reference is a problematic concept. Some people, like me, measure speed in ‘furlongs per fortnight,’ which is an actual speed measurement. MPH might be more convenient, but not nearly as interesting or capable of inspiring fits of math, a condition shared by most school children and all rational adults.

The security guard ran past me as I stood near the main lobby. I use ‘ran’ in the loosest sense of the word. If he were a cheetah, he would be an arthritic three-legged one.

30 seconds later, he half-jogged to the main door and stopped, his love of donuts now severely impairing his ability to continue on whatever chase occupied him.

After a few heaving breaths, he asked me, “X, did you see a woman run by here before I came by the first time?”

“Yes, I sure did.” A woman had nervously and quickly passed by me a minute before the security guard. She seemed to be fidgety, like someone trying to light a short fuse on a stick of dynamite. I assumed she had eaten in the cafeteria, a mistake often preceding a very quick and unexpected tightly-wound walk to the nearest bathroom.

The security guard impatiently followed up with another question. “What did she look like, X?”

“Well, her hair looked like Tourette Syndrome would look if it were a visual thing instead of an auditory one.” It seemed like it was the most distinguishing thing about her.

I now realize that the security guard was unaccustomed to descriptions by allegory, however, as he rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively.

As he headed back around for another look, I shouted after him, “She also had on pants that reminded me of an LSD-inspired fractal!”

It seemed like the only thing I could do to help him.
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Spices and Altercations for $1000, Alex

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I made a quick trip to the store. As always, things go awry. In this case, though, the maelstrom didn’t involve me. I was just a witless witness.

I stood near the spices, admiring the universe of flavorful options. Not only was my mouth watering, but also so were my eyeballs. (Though the detail adds nothing to this story, I highly recommend both the chipotle bacon and garlic jalapeño seasoning.) I can eat cardboard with the right spices or sauces. My wife would testify that I, in fact, often do, given my irreverence for what constitutes ‘food.’

Voices rose, obviously in dissent, and probably emanating from a nearby and unseen aisle. In a few moments, an employee of the dubious retailer walked into my peripheral vision, taking small steps backward, yet still barking at someone I couldn’t yet see. As he stopped, an older woman approached from the other side of the endcap of the aisle. Her finger stabbed the air in irritation as she spoke. She was adamantly demanding that the employee go self-procreate and accompanied by his terrible attitude, even though her recommendation was couched in both vernacular and anatomically specific language.

It should have been awkward to witness, given the venom in the air. It wasn’t, though. It was more like Live TV and comparable to the scene which ensues when the three guys attempting to put the alligator in the SUV suddenly find themselves being violently schooled by an uncooperative lizard.

I laughed. Both the woman and the employee took a moment to throw quick glances of scorn my way and then turned on one another again.

Since neither of them had swords, daggers, nor jousting sticks, I assumed the scene was safe. At least for me.

Exactly .5 seconds later, a man wearing an industrial uniform approached and stepped in front of the woman. She stopped her malevolent incantations. His arms were hanging directly down, probably to signal a benign intervention.

He spoke to the retail employee. “Sir, did you bring a mop with you?”

“What? Why do I need a mop?” the employee asked. “No one told me there was a spill.”

“If you keep talking to people the way you were just talking to this lady, I’m going to mop the floor with you.” He didn’t even wait for the employee to reply. He turned to the woman and said, “I’m so sorry. I think I fixed your problem.” He walked away, perhaps to right another wrong. If he wore a cape, it was well concealed.

The employee continued to stand at the opposite end of the aisle. His face was becoming increasingly redder. It seemed like his head was expanding as it did so and I feared his glasses might burst from his face like shrapnel if it persisted.

When I went to check out, I could see the employee near the end of the register area, animatedly telling his story to another obviously disinterested co-worker. His arms waved and moved like a broken windmill as he spoke. I’m not sure what version of the truth he was telling but I was certain his eyes were keeping watch for the mysterious man in uniform as he did so.