Category Archives: Humor

5 a.m. Bullhorn

I drove back toward civilization this morning and parked across from Wal-Mart, the retailer that allows us to purchase both bowel medications and oil for our 3-speed bird feeder at 3 a.m. It was that time of the morning before the hopeful sunrise would come and dispel the lingering dubiousness of the night’s secrets, and all the lights seemed bright enough to perform a surgical exorcism in the parking lot. Parking lot lights at this brightness are what someone who had suddenly regained their sight might install in their bedrooms for leisure reading. I’ve long held the theory that such lights actually c-a-u-s-e criminal behavior.
 
As I walked around the side of the building, a small bright green new car approached. It was smaller than a Cube. Its headlights weren’t on and I could already see that it was going to be interesting, as someone who resembled a Halloween skeleton was leaning out of the rear driver window, smoking. As it neared, I could see that a witch was driving, cigarette comically dangling from her mouth. It seemed as if the cigarette in her mouth was touching the windshield. She didn’t turn her head as she slowly passed in front of me. As small as the car was, I could also make out that 5 people were stuffed inside the confines of the vehicle.
 
All the occupants looked like rejected extras from the bad parts of “Breaking Bad.” As the car turned right onto Robinson Avenue from the parking lot, another Ph.D. candidate leaned out from the rear passenger window. He was holding a small red bullhorn and began shouting something at me through the megaphone. Although I couldn’t hear him, I could imagine that he was shouting his favorite words from a Yeats or e.e. cummings poem.
 
At 5 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, the only thing that could have made the moment more surreal would have been if an entire caravan of such crazies exited the parking lot simultaneously.
 
As the car drove away, headlights still off, I waved at the bullhorn-holding man. I wondered what a police officer might think as he pulled over the overstuffed car. He might stop them to advise them to turn on their lights, but he would linger as he became increasingly confused. I can only hope that the gentleman leaning from the window with the bullhorn would do all the talking – using the bullhorn.
 
I know that some of you will assume I’m exaggerating. I’m not. Like the moped pulling the skateboarder with a rope on one of the busiest roads in Springdale a couple of weeks ago, the 4-wheeler doing acrobatics on the sidewalks, or the numerous under-the-influence drivers I’ve witnessed as they’ve performed feats of involuntary agility, this story is true.
 
It’s not that you’re unreasonable for a little disbelief, but the people-of-WalMart website didn’t get created without reason. Perhaps this motley group doesn’t deserve my tongue-in-cheek derision, but on the other hand, I’m not the one who decided to cram into a car in the early morning hours of a late summer Wednesday morning and shout at fellow citizens with a bullhorn.

Pay It Forward, Even If It’s a Scare

“You’ve got to pay it forward” can be quite dangerous advice.

This morning, I was strolling through the blackness, a dark so pervasive that I could have been looking through the souls of insurance agents. I was immersed in a TED talk with the volume loud enough to overcome my middle-aged ears’ tendency to interpret everything as either a whisper or a scream.

In the background, I heard faint music. After a few seconds, I heard it again. It sounded like someone had put a transistor radio in their pocket just as the mafia threw them head-first into the trunk of a 1978 Buick. Just as I reached up to turn down the volume to listen attentively, from behind me a booming voice said, “Good morning!” just as a runner came sprinting by me. I’m pretty sure I slapped myself in over-reaction to being startled in the dark like that. So much for having the small slices of Springdale to myself. It’s too bad the runner hadn’t been a ninja with sword upraised just as I turned to see him. A coronary might not have startled me as much. “Thanks!” I hollered at him as he streaked ahead. How he could see anything was a mystery to me. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure if I was walking on the road or an imaginary surface, either.

When I finished my walk, I decided to go ahead and go the store. I chose Harp’s because it’s much quieter in the morning. My wife had mentioned needing a toenail clipping holder or sour cream. I couldn’t’ remember which so I decided to go inside and jog my memory. Though not germane to this anecdote, I found Schweppes Lemon-Lime sparkling water and stopped to cry a few tears of joy. Though not as good as Tab soda (the best soda ever created), it’s a joyous drink.

As I neared the row of registers, I briefly courted the idea of making a run for the door just to see if anyone would notice. By run, of course, I mean ‘walk like my legs remembered what running felt like.’

Instead, as I reached the last register aisle, I noticed that the cashier was standing with her back to me, her mind lost in the early morning doldrums so frequently exhibited by people who don’t have the sense to get up later. I crept closer, certain that she surely had heard my approach. I leaned over the register conveyor and whispered, “Boo!” in a soft voice. Although her head didn’t quite touch the overhead ceiling tiles as she jumped in terror, her ponytail did have sufficient time on the landing to swirl around her head at least 5 times before her toes touched the ground. As she turned, she began laughing, which was a relief. It’s one thing to be tased but another to be tased before you’ve had your morning coffee. (Again, although not related directly to this story, the cashier’s eyes looked like Alanis Morissette.)

We shared a laugh as I apologized and reminded her of the importance of paying it forward, whether it might a scare, a dollar, or a laugh.

 

Lose Weight By Reading This in Chinese

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I’ve been asked more than once why I didn’t do more “Handmaid’s Tale” pictures. The answer is that I have done more and they are in all the corners of the internet.

For those unlucky citizens who haven’t watched this masterpiece TV show on Hulu, perhaps the depth of the joke is lost to you.

This particular picture ties several elements together – and answers the burning question, “Can you describe in a simple picture what it feels like some days to watch as DJ Trump, aka 45, speaks in public?”

Otherwise, you can look at this picture and see just how far this weight loss thing has taken me in the last couple of months.

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Social Engineering Idea #7. If a police officer is about to give you a ticket, he should give you a choice between paying the ticket or letting him go live on social media and then smacking you in the face with a cream pie. Some people would speed just to get caught, that’s true, but at least we’d have a great story to share. (Cake shops could do free sponsorships, too.)

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We should have known things were a mess when the military band changed the song to “Hell To The Chief.”

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Trump’s remarks last night were a reminder to us all why meth is such a real problem in society.

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Note to self: cooking prowess possibly over-rated if both wife and cat hurl during the same night.

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Garth Brooks has certainly changed his look and sound. His new CD of cover songs surprised me, especially his new version of, “Two Of a Kind, Twerkin’ On a Full House.”

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After winning last night, Bret Bielema went home and wrote in his personal diary: “Can you believe they are still paying me $11,000 a DAY for this?”

The Florida A&M coach makes around $200,000, about 16 times less than Bielema.

Someone put the ‘high’ in higher education, that’s for sure.

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To the pilot & 7 other jumpers, please accept my apology. When I was invited I thought he said “Parashooting.”

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“I wasn’t mumbling – I was speaking in cursive.”

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You know you’ve made a bad decision when your imaginary life narrator says “This is going to be good!” in a resigned tone of voice.

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“I’ve eaten so many vegetables lately that when I asked the DJ to play an artist, I accidentally told him, Elvis Parsley.”

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Because You Needed 16 of Them

Idle pondering…

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Here at “You’re Wrong, Inc.” we value your opinion, no matter stupidly misguided it is. We say this because you’re wrong. Don’t take it personally. It’s okay to be wrong. (PS: I’m the president of the company, given my long history with the product we sell. 🙂 )

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“You know you’re too big when you’re the only one in the picture and the newspaper labels it as a group photo.” – X

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Get out and talk a walk. It’s psycho-logical for you to do so.

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Of all the things, all were actually just moments, noticed or ignored.

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A llama appears at a microphone in the middle of the street. What song might it sing – if it could? If you can’t imagine such a scenario, please call 1-800-LLAMAME.

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Love isn’t a clean white t-shirt and chiseled chin; it’s laundry when you would rather pull your own teeth with a broken corkscrew.

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I knew he was mean but was uncertain as to what degree until he insisted on volunteering exclusively at Habitat For Inhumanity.

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English: learn these 743 rules. Spanish: learn these 75 rules, all without losing any of the majesty of language.

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I couldn’t quite get a grip on it, either.

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Local police departments post crazy photos of blurry perpetrators, asking for tips. Tip #1: Impressionist art is for the wall at the gallery.

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For anyone who enjoys a glass of water, half-full. 🙂

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X Explore Springdale

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I’m not quite sure how to take it. The Springdale Chamber of Commerce revised the horrid waffle-fry logo and made a variant for the Springdale Advertising Commission: Explore Springdale. It is a similar logo, except the crazy waffle-fry base has been morphed into two overlapping Xs. I’m really going to miss seeing the waffle-fry logo so often because those seizures it elicited were becoming my best friend. I’d apologize to Springdale for mocking the design logo, except that it was done on purpose instead of as a result of a lost bet, as I had originally speculated.

Here’s the FB page: https://www.facebook.com/ExploreSpringdale/

Here’s the website: http://explorespringdale.com/

As a citizen of Springdale and the only resident legally named X, I give the double-X variant two left thumbs up. It’s phenomenally better as a logo than the crisscross polychromatic nightmare known as the waffle-fry.

Before I forget to say something useful, Explore Springdale is an informational page for tourism and goings-on in our fair city. These are the same folks who sent the last Mayor to Mars and also promised to give a free taco lunch to each resident of Springdale twice a year. I made those last two claims up but since I received a cease-to-exist letter, I can no longer pretend to be the spokesperson for any city official of Springdale. (They took my company car away from me, too.)

You can also follow Team Springdale: https://www.facebook.com/teamspringdale/, Downtown Springdale: https://www.facebook.com/DowntownSpringdale/, and Springdale Stories: https://www.facebook.com/Springdale-Stories-1763247583924…/…

Keeping up with all the activities here is quite a task, even if you have two secretaries like I do.

Springdale is no longer the town I grew up in, thank goodness. It’s better by almost every measure. As much as I chide the logo debacle, it’s looking spectacular out there these days.

PS: The obvious “X” in this logo is much appreciated. I keep joking that you are building me trails and new sights – just for me personally. This logo variant certainly adds evidence to my positive paranoia.

The Rhinestein Cowboy

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Part of this story is true, part is an embellishment. As I was telling jokes today, someone reacted contrarily to my contention that Glen Campbell was a member of the Messianic Judaism sect, something I learned about him when I was going back through his music a couple of years ago.

(One of my jokes I sometimes tell is this: “Did you know Glen Campbell has a brother who is a comic? His name is Grin Campbell.”) It’s okay to groan for reasons other than who occupies the White House.

As I was growing up, I had a viral aversion to country music. My Uncle Buck, who had been immersed in the country music scene, told me more than once that I should have followed guitar and bass to music, rather than orchestral instruments. As I’ve aged, I acquired a taste for a huge variety of music, including a lot of country music. It’s true I’m just as likely to listen to Japanese Yodeling as any other genre. I used to loathe “Rhinestone Cowboy” like it was an assault on my eardrums. That turned out to be the case with a great deal of music, as I associated it with the drunken brutality of several of my family members.

My favorite Glen Campbell memory was the time I recorded a duet with him in Topeka, Kansas. He had been invited to do a couple of cover tunes. That’s how we ended up recording “Rhinestein Cowboy” for the Jewish Musical Alliance.

PS: For those who like actual facts, Glen didn’t write and also wasn’t the first person to record “Rhinestone Cowboy.”

The Best Damn Roasted Cucumber Recipe Ever Devised

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Expert Cooking Advice From X Teri, Noted Chef

As a noted expert in the field of cooking, I’ve figured out the whole “Roasted Cucumber Slices” thing.

I made some today with lemon juice and Tajín. Dawn at least tried them when I said, “They evoke the taste of fried green tomatoes.” She popped one in her mouth and immediately puckered up. She then reminded me she doesn’t like fried green tomatoes. I’m glad Fannie Flagg is still alive, otherwise, my wife’s reaction would have earned her a downgrade in reputation.

If you’re interested, I deviate wildly from most of the recommended websites in regards to roasted cucumber slices. Some sites recommend low temperatures such as 170 for longer times. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

First, heat the oven to at least 400. Spray a metal cooking sheet with your favorite cooking spray.

As much as I love parchment paper, you don’t need it for this unless your cucumbers are more desiccated than the mouth of a starving vampire.

(Real men will note that they should use axle grease for the cooking sheet. But on the other hand, real men don’t know how to cook roasted cucumber slices: it’s in the rule book under “No.”)

Before putting the seasoned cucumber slices on the pan, heat it in the oven for 3-4 minutes. You should also count to 180 in a foreign language while you wait. It won’t help you cook any better, but it will give you a pretentious air necessary to be regarded as a “good cook.” (And not the “Breaking Bad” kind of cook, either, no matter how pretty Blue Ice is in the summer sunlight.

I prefer using smaller cucumbers. Wash them but don’t peel them. Only people who think limited-edition collector’s plates peel their cucumbers. Just don’t do it. Slice the cucumbers into very thin slices. You shouldn’t need an electron microscope, so don’t fret about how thick they might be. Whatever you think “thinly sliced” means, do that.

So help me god, if anyone mentions using a mandoline to slice the cucumbers, I will come to your house and shave the hindquarters of your favorite pet. Mandolines are simply not permitted in American households. If you have one, please stop reading now, get your mandolin from the kitchen, then throw it out the back door wherever you live.

For additional points, chop as quickly as humanly possible. Try to do it like that android on the “Alien” movie did the knife trick around fingers. Professional chefs worry too much about safety in the kitchen. We’ve been eating for thousands of years and no one has gotten seriously injured yet. Note from the lawyers: that last statement is false, so unless you are Republican, ignore that last part.

In a bowl, (the slices – not you), splash the slices with lemon juice as if you are doing a Catholic mass on Saturday morning. Add whatever seasoning you wish: curry powder, lemon pepper, Tajín, cheese sprinkles. If you aren’t sure, try it on there. Cucumbers are cheaper than opinions at a NASCAR rally.

Place the cucumber slices on a single level on the warm cooking sheet. Do not make neat rows or patterns when you do this. It annoys normal people to see neatly arranged things we’re all going to eat anyway.

Put the pan in the oven. (Where else would you put it?)

Don’t do anything for 10 -14 minutes. At 10-14  minutes, keep a cautious eye on the slices. They will turn from almost crispy and tinged with brown to flaming to the ceiling if you blink too long. Personally, I love almost everything even if it is burned. But for you normal people out there, you need to be cautious.  Except for the pyros: you guys can set the oven for 500 and leave it for 4 days if you want. (You only live once.)

One thing you need to understand about roasted cucumbers slices is that they simply don’t taste the same once heated and dried. If you take the time to make these and anyone in your family refuses to try them or appreciate the effort, borrow a gun if necessary and repeat your request that they at least try these delicious slices of heaven. Fire a warning shot if you don’t notice a dramatic increase in enthusiasm as your loved ones stuff their faces with these things.

As a bonus, if you make them as I indicate, they are very low in calories.

You’ll note that your life is suddenly awash with happiness and peace. It’s an inevitable change once you start following my cooking advice. 450 Ukrainian diplomats can’t be wrong.

 

PS: If you don’t trust me, you can Google recipes for these yourself. Be warned, though. There are a LOT of weirdos on the internet these days, some of whom are masquerading as good cooks.

 

 

 

 

Paris Climate Deal is Not Mentioned In This Post

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Tired of politics?

After careful consultation with esteemed political consultants, my wife and I are proud to announce that our cat, Güino, will soon announce his candidacy for political office.

Since he doesn’t talk, he won’t be lying like so many others. Additionally, we can interpret his meows to mean anything that appeals to us – thus solving the biggest problem in politics today.

Finally, Güino has all 9 of his lives remaining and he has pledged to use them all to improve this great country of ours.

Given the shenanigans of the last election, Güino has decided to reach across the aisle (unlike current politicians) and choose a dog to-be-named-later as his Vice President, thus healing the divide of this country.

Please remit funds for his candidacy to your local Humane Society.

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I think I’m fixated on food: when I taught the children how to tie their shoes, I demonstrated the garlic knot.

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As I walked the winding decline of the parking deck, I felt as if I were being watched by a dozen pairs of unseen eyes. When I had walked down to the next level I realized my error. Above the steps going both up and down was a sign: “STARES ONLY.”

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Ignore This Post

Trump lowered the bar for the Presidency. Kathy Griffin lowered the bar for comedy. I’m going to the bar to come up with a better analogy.

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A new brand of popcorn (I created) if you are sitting around waiting for the president-for-now to blow the place up: Orb-ille Redenbacher Popcorn.

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Tenacity is one of those things which I’ve found people to woefully misjudge.

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Forget Notre Dame ‘insulting’ Pence. Today’s footage of Trump expanding his library of ignorant speeches was priceless. Many of the leaders of the free world were openly mocking him, snickering, and otherwise demonstrating how important his opinion is to…anyone.

Toward the end of the video, an older white-haired man walked briskly along the background, adjacent to the wall. I imagined that it was Bernie Sanders, impatiently pacing back and forth, vainly trying to control his impulse to blast an air horn toward DJ Trump. I added an arrow so you can spot him.

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In a first for politics, the newest model Hoover vacuum cleaner was appointed to be the next Attorney General, after it was determined that it sucks less than current appointee Jeff Sessions.

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When I performed my recital at Walton Arts Center, the audience gave its first ever Standing Negation.

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In the future, vehicles which can fly will be great: if you own a dog and take it with you in the car, you will have a ‘flying car pet,’ just like Aladdin.

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My arrest was a big misunderstanding. I advertised on Craigslist as a ‘Ford Escort Service,’ and only because that’s the car I’m gonna drive for Über. I had 11 middle-aged guys in the backseat before I exited the driveway.

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Often slowly; eventually, though, people always talk because that’s what we do. If you are counting on secrecy to protect your accumulated reputation, you’re gonna have a bad time.

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We age the most not in the lines of our face but in the depths of our hearts. – x

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I’m not saying he’s not a nice person, but I know for a fact that he goes to the proctologist daily: not for an appointment, but so that he can be around other assholes.

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