Category Archives: Whimsical

Quips and Quandaries

 

I was certain I won the game of charades until someone pointed to the notice behind me: “Beginner’s Sign Language Class Today at 6 p.m.”

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Looking back, it’s difficult for me to believe I thought that “On Top Of Old Smokey” was a romantic love song geared toward senior citizens…

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I decided recently to change careers. When I applied to Yoga Certification School, my application was denied.

Turns out, my birth certificate was stamped “Do not bend or fold.”

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In the last two days, zero out of 23 people I’ve asked failed to accurately recite or sing the first 7 words to the “Mister Rogers” theme. I’m not counting those who were less familiar with it -just those who were ‘sure.’

Most of you will Google it and among those several still won’t believe that they too have a false memory of the actual words.

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I am trying to find the original fool who said, “You can’t run from your problems.” Since most of us would agree that many of our problems are in fact people, it is very logical to run from your problems. Early and often.

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I guess it’s one thing to holler “Recess!” at work – but another to stand by the door with chocolate, regular, & strawberry milk cartons and encourage everyone to take one as they exit the work area to go play outside.

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I sold the mineral rights to my land. Texas Oil Company and Johnson & Johnson are partnering to drill for baby.oil.

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I sold the mineral rights to my land. Texas Oil Company and Johnson & Johnson are partnering to drill for baby oil.

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“It’s a sure sign that dance has evolved too far into the realm of the esoteric when a dance trend is done so well that it is indistinguishable from electrocution.” – X

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That guy had so little creativity that when he joined the church they accused him of having unoriginal sin.

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I ain’t saying the fog is thick this morning but two boats have passed me already.

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Due to my lack of controversial behavior I have been down-graded to the “Do Not Watch List.” #aarp

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To the residents of Springdale, my apologies. I misunderstood what my boss was asking for when he asked for a flash drive on my way to work. I know it can’t be unseen.

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To the residents of Springdale, my apologies. I misunderstood what my boss was asking for when he asked for a flash drive on my way to work. I know it can’t be unseen.

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The doctor told me to serve more veggies but I gotta say that broccoli and tennis rackets don’t mix.

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Sir, you can’t stand here,” the Walmart manager told me.”You’re loitering.”

I pointed to the sign above me, the one which indicated ‘Fruit’ and asked her why they put my nickname there.

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It is situationally ironic to hear hospital employees say that “they are sick of the place.”

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Normally, I follow the admonition of “never negotiate with terrorists.” My mother-in-law is the one exception.

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Odd 80s Music Fact: The 80s anthem “Broken Wings” by Mr. Mister, is actually a customer service complaint about defective chicken.

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Normal eaters say, “I’ve got to get something to eat,” whereas cannibals say, “I’ve got to get someone to eat.”

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So that people will be reminded to do them correctly, Congress has renamed the act of “The Splits” to now be known as a ” Lunar Landing. ”

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Did y’all hear about the guy the police brought in for questioning due to possible cannibalism? They grilled him for an hour.

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My first startup failed: Scratch-And-Sniff Résumés.

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To say that you want a bowl of cereal is accepted as normal, whereas if you say you want a plate of cereal you sound crazy. Ergo, insufficient concavity is bad.

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It occurred to me that the song, “Don’t let the sun catch you crying” is basically a PSA for sad vampires.

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The Hogeye Marathon is passing in close proximity to my house again this year. I think they put up the mile markers on the route so early only to tempt me to finally succumb and pull shenanigans. It’s getting more difficult to resist the wild call of my inner prankster.

Because life is short, I’m hereby letting everyone know that if the Hogeye foolishly passes near my house next year, the game is ON.

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Among my laundry list of highly desirable Christmas/Birthday gifts for my wife Dawn last December: this beautiful custom metal door sign for her office. I waited for her to remind me to install it. Shockingly, this reminder never materialized.

Nevertheless, I took the initiative this afternoon to put it up.

It reads: Dawn C. Teri CEO, CFO, CIA, FBI

The original template had Voodoo Mojo Conjurer, but wouldn’t quite fit on the door plate.
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Flimsy Whimsy

 

“Nothing is as useless as a rebuke from an unadmired source. ” -x

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It ain’t Hallmark, but I don’t care what anyone says. “Word to your mother” is a great way to say both “See ya later” AND “Regards to your mom, dude.”

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Management foolishly asked us for ideas about where to hold the budget meeting. I, of course, recommended the garden area, for purposes of fertilization.

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The Ruler Hypothesis: the closer one nears the administration building, the less likely it is that the snack and soda machines will be out of order or product.

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Did you know that cremation is now more common than burial? Many people don’t. I’ve been an advocate for most of my adult life. I still think it’s a better idea if we wait until after they’ve passed to do either, at least for most people

I only mention the last part because many people seem to want to try it out on me while I’m still alive.

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Very unpopular observation: When I see the older generation mocking kids for eating Tide Pods, I wonder if they realize their own bias. Most of them used a product that was very clearly marked: “Poison: using this product will lead to your death and harm those around you.” Yet, they smoked like there was no tomorrow, convincing themselves that scientific evidence didn’t relate to them. With the Tide Pod fiasco, those doing it are young and immature – and hurt only themselves. Both smoking and consuming Tide Pods are idiotic, but it’s hard not to laugh at the hypocrisy of the older folks who enjoy pointing their smoke-stained fingers at the younger generation, whose sin is that of being young and stupid.

P.S. I don’t know about y’all, but I was a bona fide moron when I was younger.

P.P.S. Given the insistence of people to convolute any point made, I’d like to point out that I am not saying that the youth of today is dumber than we are; quite the opposite. It’s glib and easy to laugh at those will be in charge soon enough for the idiocy of a very few, while overlooking the fact that the world as we now know it is the way it is because of both our actions and inaction.

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It’s one thing for someone to run up to me, hug me, and yell, “I love you, man.” It’s another when they tell their friends that they met Danny Devito.

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I am so bad at emergency resuscitation that I accidentally killed the CPR dummy.

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I sat at the window for 10 minutes listening to jazz wafting on the wind until I realized someone was using a broken accordion as a chair.

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Things I’ve Learned Watching “This Is Us” — If anyone brings you a Crock Pot, kick him or her in the teeth.

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I think that the Housekeeping Department really missed the boat when it named it’s new men’s softball team: Dukes of BioHazzard.

Everything Is Free If You Run Fast Enough

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From my upcoming autobiography, “Onions & Cigarettes.”

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My new book, “Stem First: How To Lose Weight by Eating Gross Stuff” is about to be published in paperback.

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My new book, “Stem First: How To Lose Weight by Eating Gross Stuff” is about to be published in paperback.

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“The tables have turned,” he shouted triumphantly.

“But the chairs remain upright,” I retorted.

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I wish that the sequel to “Mad Max” would have been titled “Mad Max: Beyond Palindrome,” because then I could watch the movie from the end or beginning and it would end the same.

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Cupid shot me with a rubber arrow. I shot him with a rubber bullet. Love is a dangerous game.

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Cupid shot me with a rubber arrow. I shot him with a rubber bullet. Love is a dangerous game.

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“Time flies, and usually in the middle seat.” -x

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a poem -and movie plot

we met by the water, in silence
his head underwater, defiance
hello detective

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May This Be Enough, Always

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Though the photo might have been a bit blurry and taken with the most inexpert of hands, it perennially resided in Henry’s pocket, decades later, his own private Mona Lisa. In quiet moments, he studiously uprooted the snapshot from its cocoon, fingering the edges of the one true memory of his life. He saw the haunting beauty of the faintest smile in the picture in his hand and knew that the universe, though for a fleeting moment, had chosen to give him a precious and transitory gift.

His friend Joseph had come by to pick him up before the train came to gather young men. Joseph had a camera and seldom needed an excuse to use it. Henry and Joesph laughed as they drove, wondering at the uncertain adventure of their long lives stretched before them. They stopped near the house Henry lived in with his grandmother for 8 years. The love of Henry’s life wiped away the tears gathering in her hazel eyes and stood lonesomely by the roadside, her presence unexpected and a steely finger into his heart. Even though they spoke their goodbyes the night before, Sally was there, waiting, her hands restless and her eyes reddened from the shock of impending separation. Surprised by the sudden shift from jovial to melancholy, Joseph fumbled and took the cherished picture before Henry could join Sally for the picture. Instead of joining her for another snapshot, Henry embraced her as she leaned toward him, sobbing. They drove as slowly as the car would allow, marking the sun’s arc across the afternoon sky, telling shared stories of their times together. They all felt their childhoods melt away as they drove toward the station.

This picture, it was enough to replenish him, always, no matter how difficult the day. Jacob sent it soon after Henry entered boot camp. Attached was a note: “We’re waiting.” That day at Salerno, screaming and deafened by the inhumanity of his surroundings, the foggy minute early in November, decades ago, when the word “cancer” pierced his heart, even the afternoon 17 years ago, when the last connection to his biological family passed away – all of these were momentarily forgotten with a glance at his most prized possession.

Henry barely survived the river at Salerno, his vision of Italy scarred by war. He came home, hobbling and injured, to find his Sally waiting for him. They were married the day he arrived. Joseph stood by him and held him upright as the Presbyterian minister shouted his invocations. Henry and Sally loved like no other existed. Sally died in her sleep in early 1944 of an infection, one which came suddenly and with finality. They had shared only 122 days together as man and wife. No matter how sweet the days would be ahead of him, Henry knew that his life would be a black-and-white rainbow without her.

He returned to the war, voluntarily, and went back into the world to find something to stuff inside the void of his heart. Henry lived to be 96 years old, each day in recognition that he had already experienced the best of life. He laughed easily, cried deeply, and hugged with the ferocity of those accustomed to loss.  Henry taught me all the important lessons in life, each lesson ribboned with the reminder that pain comes to those who have chosen to live a full life.

Pressed inside his favorite book of hand-written words of wisdom, Henry’s treasured picture came to me,  its edges defying time and submission to decay. I wept, knowing that Henry’s fingers had caressed this last reminder of his sweet Sally countless times, each a silent prayer of thanks and loss.

When I decided to copy it and frame it for my own wall, I turned it over and found these words inscribed by Henry:

“May this be enough, always,” he had written.

May you find your ‘enough,’ and may it be sufficient for you, always.

 

Love, X

 

May Your Days and Nights Be Filled With Karls and Ninnys

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At the intersection of worlds: “Fried Green Tomatoes” and “Sling Blade.” I awoke, staring at 3:33 on the clock, hearing the resonant voices of Karl Childers and Ninny Threadgoode fading from my mind. I could feel their enchanting universes slipping away from me, foggy nostalgia as real and certain as the bed in which I found myself. The quote in the picture popped into my imagination. I don’t remember the dream which seemed to have spanned an entire life while I slept, but what a great place to live, one in which both fictional and real people would come to life and interact. It was a testament to the power and appeal of both stories, with characters so rich that it would be impossible to resist an invitation to live in their worlds.

I would reverently walk those sparse roads and listen, sit on the porch and hear the whispers through time and share a thousand laughs. Yes, even dreams would come to an end, no different than our waking life, a finite loop of possibilities. When I awoke, though, the fading resonance of a rocking chair moving against loosely-nailed boards still filled my ears – and I felt an acute loss fill my heart, the one beating between the twilights, one waking, one still in the other world.

People often connect with us in ways that can’t be easily defined. Sometimes, they do so across years, generations, and in spite of all our differences. If we are lucky enough and allow our imaginations to flourish, sometimes those characters created by others come to visit us on either side of the drowsy line. Lifetimes can be lived between these spaces. For those truly blessed, the people within the boundaries of their lives experience this daily.

I hope your day has a few Karls and Ninnys, people who light your life with interest and spark.
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(The picture is of ‘the’ house from “Fried Green Tomatoes.” You can see Ninny in the upstairs window, watching Karl and Frank below…)
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Zen, Salt, and Pepper

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In my defense, the manual should use normal units of measure, like furlongs per fortnight.

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I made this ‘prove’ a fake cooking and food prep competition happened back in the day. (In honor of someone who loathes both deviled eggs and watermelon.)

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A picture I faked to explain how a friend accidentally ended up being the parade master on the way to buy gas for her riding lawn mower.

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From math to mayhem…

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“People really love it when IQ-reducing sport is combined with political or social messages.” A quote from the book, “…Said No One Ever,” soon to be released in paperback, with a foreword written by both Colin Kaepernick and Sean Hannity.

This post is a guaranteed crown non-pleaser, just like the game tonight, depending on who ‘wins’ the game. My prediction for the outcome of the game is this: a lot of people are going to be pissed off tomorrow, even the multi-millionaires involved in the game.

Just like with “Grey’s Anatomy,” there will be a lot of talk tomorrow around the water coolers. Remember this, though: no one likes Meredith Grey, not really.

As this televised and herculean test of wills against opposing teams of grown men in tight pants draws to a close, just remember that the only score that matters is whether you consumed enough cholesterol, alcohol or sugar to qualify you for the annual Fraternity Eating Competition on Tuesday.

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