Category Archives: Whimsical

A Misplaced Adverb

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My Dashboard Dinosaur has brought me great luck. I can’t say as much for whoever was previously inside that police outline in my driveway.

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Best opening line for a play or book: “He ran through the door as if it weren’t closed.”

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I think “Scream Door” is a better name than Screen Door, because if a child lets it slam, there will certainly be screaming.  #newword

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I hit a deer this morning. He had no defense against either a left hook or right jab.

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Because I’m dedicated to the aggressive abolition of all popular card games, the FBI has nicknamed me the Unobomber.

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My favorite radio station’s programming manager is being charged with arson. Luke Bryan’s “singing” burned my ears so badly that I can’t hear a word my wife is saying.

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A woman was being brutally mean. It was the relentless and unredeeming kind of anger manifested as a non-stop verbal attack. I’m not proud of repaying her cruelty in kind. But I am pleased with my quick reply. I’d ignored at least twenty bouts of vileness.

When she continued to belittle and berate, I held up a hand. “We have more in common than not. We have a common enemy.”

Momentarily confused, she said, “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Based on preliminary study, I’d say it’s a three-way tie between french fries, the delusion that people care what we say, and the inability to shut up.”

Epilogue: she’s REALLY mad now, with the benefit that she’ll be silent in my direction for quite a while.

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It was only after a surprise trip to Germany did Ralph Wiedersehen realize why his friends of German origin laughed each time they said goodbye to him.

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“Ask your doctor if dying due to lack of health insurance is right for you.” – Advertisement

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I nicknamed my management team “AC,” because evidently they are powered by 120 dolts.

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I found a snake in the garage.

“Can you identify it?” my wife asked.

“I don’t need to – it has a driver’s license,” I replied.

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“Stop paying full price,” the sign said. So I ran like hell.

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People are interested in how I learned Spanish until I tell them, “Large doses of LSD.” It won’t work for everyone, sure, but no one will notice what language you’re speaking when your pants are made out of banana peels.

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I wrote the best joke ever written a few minutes ago.
This isn’t the joke.
This is the tribute.

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A Mixed Bag

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My cat Güino took umbrage with the fact that Dawn impugned his character this afternoon. Per the left picture, my wife Dawn noted on my chalkboard that I shouldn’t wake ‘the monster.’ When I opened the door this afternoon, Mr. Monster had already jumped up to warmly greet me. As you can clearly see in the right picture, Güino then proceeded to explain why Dawn’s comments were libelous. “Incredulous” best describes his level of chagrin with the mistress of the house. The cat and I had a good laugh together as he told me that he was going to leave extra litter on her side of the bed tonight.

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I now have stained hardwood floors, thanks to Incontinent Bob.

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Idea for poultry marketing: using the 80s slogan “Where’s The Beef?” I think the poultry industry should adopt my version… “Where’s The Beak?”

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“Jerk!” He yelled at me.

“Are you accusing me of identity theft?” I asked.

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*Life is like a glass of chess.

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The Huevos Rancheros tasted too authentic. I’m pretty sure I saw a clump of manure in there. Thanks for the recommendation, though.

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“…his face was a topographic and cartographic wonder…” – from the book “Write Good,” regarding polite methods of describing dermatological afflictions.

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Gingivitis
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I signed my first artist to my label: Gwen Campbell. It’s an all-female country cover band.

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Some nitwit keeps placing googly eyes on the stair diagrams. I wonder when I’m going to deplete my supply of googly eyes?
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I wrote the best joke ever written a few minutes ago.
This isn’t the joke.
This is the tribute.

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I watched the horizon to the north as huge lightning bolts illuminated the towering clouds. At 4 a.m. nothing was as it seemed. A couple of hours later, I stand inside, immobile, as the sky bombs the roof. Nothing has changed. Except for everything.

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The look on the doctor’s face when he saw the phlebotomy band-aid on my neck… I asked him, “Where did the blood tech get trained? Is it safe to do blood draws from the neck?” P.S. They should be paying ME for the entertainment.

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Apparently, “Dothraki” isn’t what the doctor’s office envisioned under the ‘Preferred Language’ area of the patient data chart.

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Extrospectacle

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You trace the lines left by others, your own path superimposed on those of the people whose lives and inscrutable motivations might as well have been birthed on an alien planet. You might know them but not in the profound way that you wish were possible. Age confirms the suspicion that almost everyone navigates life by the seat of their ill-fitted pants and that no singular truth prevents you from missteps made a million times by our predecessors. And you wonder why the impolite and persistent dissatisfaction doesn’t abate, not entirely, and never when you’re alone with your thoughts.

Interlude

“Love the one that’s your width.” – X’s new take on an old cliche and song lyric.

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Some people burn propane, others butane, and the rest insane.

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I see a really surly guy a couple of times a week. He’s a bastard – one of those you’ll see arguing with the sunrise.

I went outside and fed a crumbled biscuit to the duck and the myriad finches who’ve learned to congregate around me.

Mr. Surly, who I’ve previously and politely asked to go jump off a cliff with an anvil tied to his face and leave me alone, sneered at me.

“Bread is bad for birds!” Mr. Surly said it at high volume for the sake of bystanders. He should’ve known better.

Without hesitation, I loudly said, “Well those 3 DWIs and smoking habit aren’t exactly points in your favor.”

Yes, I looked over my shoulder 200 times that day.

Still a win, though.

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They told me to take more pictures while I was on vacation, so I took all 17 from the lobby of the Holiday Inn Express.

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For those who missed the four a.m. show, the sky repeatedly and explosively turned neon and gauzy purple as tendrils of lightning snaked across the sleepy sky. I found myself driving five miles out of the way, watching thick varicose veins of lightning find its way to the ground. Bolts shook the air, and I could feel the car vibrate.

I wanted to drive on and lose the day.

Though I arrived first, I parked on the top level of the parking garage to watch the lightning roll above.

Nothing that fills this day will surpass the violent and thunderous purple of the dead hour of this morning.

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*Reviews That Matter
If you haven’t seen Avengers: Endgame… Put on some energetic movie soundtrack music. Invite your very young nephew or niece over and have them flush the toilet for 180 minutes. #endgame

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“Doctor, why I do break out in a rash every time my boss approaches? Is it stress-related?”

“No, it’s an allerjerk reaction.”

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Cabbage Is The Pizza Of Old Age

“Cabbage is the pizza of old age.” – X

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A basic cable tv network is considering using my workplace for a docuseries.

To my surprise, one of the movers-and-shakers asked me, “You’re good at this sort of thing, X. What should we call it?”

Without hesitation, I replied, “Donuts & Dumbasses.”

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“No rest for the wicked,” they said.

“This new mattress begs to differ.”

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I just found out that Dawn started dating me accidentally. She thought my online dating profile had said, “…likes long one-way walks on the beach.”

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Do you ever get the feeling you’re going to r-e-a-l-l-y need a good criminal defense attorney but can’t quite explain why? Me neither.

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He refused to make a pot of coffee due to religious grounds.

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I’m suing the “World’s Largest Baby Shower.” The baby was no more than 10 lbs.

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My new sport “Skeetboarding” is amazing. Mixing the thrills of skateboarding with the explosive speed of skeet shooting, it is great fun for everyone. Except for the scorekeepers, whose mortality rate is at 100%.

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If someone can market a “rice cake” without getting murdered by an angry snacker-mob, I can sell almost anything too.

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As the meeting wound down, my manager held up his hand to get our attention.

“In the interest of learning new things, it’s customary for someone to give us a new word – or one we haven’t truly understood,” he said.

Because I’m helpful, I shouted “Ethics!” with a booming voice.

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Were I able to distill & bottle the essence of returning to an unreasonable job after a vacation, I would market it to young people to serve as a distasteful motivation to find a way to fill your days with a meaningful blend of both commerce and freedom.

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Diet salad dressing should be called salad undressing because the more you eat it, the more likely you’ll undress.

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The party was a mess. Due to the fact that I mumble, I accidentally ordered a f(r)og machine, which made the dance floor unimaginably slippery.

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*In Mississippi, it is legal to kill someone if they are playing bagpipes.

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You know you’re too focused on eating when someone says, “Well, it’s food for thought,” and your first thought is whether you can eat supper twice or not.

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“Love the one that’s your width.” – X’s new take on an old cliche and song lyric.

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When Dawn walked with me Saturday, we stood motionless as a Bobcat approached. Then we noticed its tophat and realized it was a harmless yet proper Robertcat.

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Seeking a recommendation or opinion.
Which is weirder, scented or flavored toilet paper?

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Now that I’ve reached an altitude of 5,000 feet above sea level, I now realize that the motivational speaker’s catchphrase was “Attitude is everything.”

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A List For Listerine

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I stopped to ask him what he was doing or perhaps to help. He was struggling to get a heavy mechanical device onto the ground. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Well, the light on the dashboard said ‘Place Transmission In Park.'”

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Technology can be offensive. My bank uses facial recognition software in real-time using ultra-HD cameras. As I opened the vestibule door to enter the bank, a computerized voice said, “Sir. No animals are permitted in this facility.”

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Scene from Jurassic Park

“I feel like a snack” versus “I feel like having a snack.”
Also, I’m never taking one of Dawn’s “shortcuts” again.

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My doctor is old school but the leeches were a bit much.

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I attended a rally and got excited when the speaker pointed at me. “You can make change!” he shouted. And then the rolls of quarters, pennies, and nickels hit me. I wasn’t ready for change.

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I stopped to ask him what he was doing or perhaps to help. He was struggling to get a heavy mechanical device onto the ground. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Well, the light on the dashboard said ‘Place Transmission In Park.'”

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Not to be lost in the shuffle, every second is an occasion unto itself.

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The door greeter/attendant came toward me with a cart. He pushed it my direction.

I quickly said, “Can you help me get in it?”

Before he even really listened, he said, “Yes sir.”

As soon as he said it, he turned a little red.

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Saturday, I hit the gas instead of the brakes – and drove through the front window of a vintage record store. The Guinness Book of World Records called and told me that I now have the record for most broken records.

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As Connie soon learned, skydiving is one of those hobbies in which one should n-e-v-e-r choose the super-savings package.

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Wishing to know the meaning of “forever,” I went and waited for my wife in the car.

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“Play games & have fun here at work,” management instructed. That came to an end today, though, when I noticed a pair of idiots in the meeting and yelled “YAHTZEE” to everyone.

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(Made with a friend’s high school prom picture, just for good measure.)

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Re-purposing safety posters – and using coworkers pictures to do it.

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Is this a “I want to speak to a manager” haircut?

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Neverland

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The above is a picture I made – and made with too much difficulty. The baby is me, held in paternal grandmother’s arms.

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This is another picture I made, using photos of me and other family members.

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The lady on the right is another one of my 2nd great aunts, Mattie L. Cook Jones, with her daughter, Antonia Jones Mueller.

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This picture is another I made piece by piece. It includes a variety of relatives

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In a strange twist, it was discovered that the language of angels is college algebra.

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I randomly found this yearbook picture while going through 15,347 pages.

P.S. It’s not a photo of anyone who graduated near Springdale, but they live ‘around’ here.

I enjoy finding people’s forgotten pictures and posting them without identifying or tagging them.

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Obscure Prince fact: The original title to his huge hit was “When Daves Cry.”

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I owned a .357 but my math teacher made me round it up to .4

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“Narco Polo” is a game you play when you can’t find the drug dealer in a crowded room.

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Just to prove that I like satire whether it’s liberal or conservative… I bought my wife a surprise gift from Amazon for Christmas. It’s a book titled, “The Presidency of Hillary Clinton.” It also contains a list of everything good she did as Secretary of State.

All 104 pages of this educational book are numbered – but completely blank.

I might donate it to the DJ Trump Presidential Library and Penitentiary.
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My supervisor called me in to his sparsely furnished office.

“X, I need to talk to you about the defibrillator issue yesterday.” His face, usually already wrinkled in perpetual irritation, was darker than normal.

I took a seat. “Our CEO needed it,” I exclaimed before my boss could continue.

“That’s difficult to argue, X, and you know it!”

“I don’t see how,” I answered. “I adjusted the device to administer the intended shock.”

“Well, the problem is that you did it while he was at breakfast and drinking hot coffee.”

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I went to a boxing match last night. The third round had just started when the Walmart manager broke it up.

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¿ #mariekondo ? I can declutter your house in one day. Valuable? Sentimental? Beautiful? If your house burned to ashes today, what would you mourn? That’ll be $10,000, please. Thanks, X

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A Token, A Remembrance, An Echo of Melody

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Because I’m not inclined to have a defined path, prepare yourself to leave with uncertainty, much in the same way you climbed from your bed this morning. You assumed the floor would still lie below to meet your feet as you started your day. No matter your plan or itinerary, the day you’re living doesn’t align with what greeted you in your slumber last night. This post is primarily for one person. Even so, the truth is wherever you find it.

This isn’t about “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows,” although it rips a webpage from its book. If you’re not familiar with it, I envy your initial discovery. The entries with video are sublime. Here’s a link to the introductory video: Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. Some of the ideas contained therein are familiar with you already if you know me. Words like onism, morii, zenosyne and most of all, sonder. Their existence is in part responsible for my joy of language and aversion to anything which presupposes a rigidity in its structure or usage. It gave me greater power in knowing that I own this language and its forms are not preordained.

I have a custom metal piece of bird artwork above my back door, one attuned to the concept of onism. Once you grasp the idea, you’ll see why it gives me pause from time to time as I find myself trapped in the cocoon of a typical and confining day, especially as I peer through the slats of the window on the door. We’re always peering through slats into the external world; it’s just that we forget that we’re doing it. This post also isn’t so much about onism or existential moments.

I’ve created several words myself. Disvidisia might be my favorite. Observing people who complain of boredom or express disinterest in ideas or works people share evokes this feeling in me with regularity. This post isn’t about that, either, although it authentically encompasses the reaction many people will have to it.

Given enough time and depth of experience, some people and places ebb and flow in their importance. The tumblers which lock and prevent our understanding find themselves without a connection for years – and one day, when our eyes are averted and our minds distracted, an insight or epiphany strikes. More often than not, by the time we understand what we’ve missed or misunderstood, the cliché of ‘too late’ pains us. It’s difficult to fight realizations which germinate in our own minds.

As for what this post is about, it’s a response to a flash of recognition a few days ago. While we’ve diluted the meaning of the word token, I realized that I needed to make one. In its strongest form, a token is a tiny portion of the original and a keepsake harkening to a greater whole. Once you’ve read this post, go to this link: Avenoir. You’ll learn a new word and perhaps peer inward for a moment. Toward the end, at about three minutes, you might see or feel the token of connection that I’m referencing. For those with strong family ties, especially ones which bond with you even after a death, I suspect that the recognition of the images in your mind will break you into pieces – even if just for a moment or in the tiniest of ways.

There are no new things to see, just our own reflections as we scramble to remember what brought us to these places, even as some of those on the journey with us transform into echoes and invisible companions. We can live in reverse through memory if we can row our boats while seated in the wrong direction.

I’ve made you such a token, for inscrutable reasons that are elusive in their complexity and simple in their expression. The picture in this post isn’t the token, although if you examine it carefully you might find a clue. It should arrive in the next few days.

With remembrance.

Avenoir.

 

Baby Diaper Domino’s

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Dawn and I were headed back home. I opted to take the scenic route through Tontitown. As I turned off Hwy 112, or Maestri Road if you’re weird, I began to smell the unmistakable odor of old baby diapers in the air.

As I continued driving east, the smell grew in intensity to the point it smelled like a mountain of baby diapers left carelessly out in the August sun.

My wife and I were both making odd faces of disgust by this point. Both of us were actively questioning the source of such a foul, inhuman odor. I don’t have a weak stomach but this stench instinctively made me want to roll the car into a ravine and risk possible death to escape it.

“Look, there it is!” shouted Dawn excitedly.

She pointed in front of us. A newer gray Toyota Camry was cresting the hill about 100 meters in front of us. Evidently, we were gaining on it as we sped down Har-Ber Avenue. I could see that its windows were all down – and for good reason.

On top of the car was a Domino’s Pizza delivery sign.
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Legal Note: this post is not endorsed by Domino’s, much less appreciated.