Category Archives: Whimsical

If It Pleases the Court…

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Office Depot has a WWE / WWF corner…

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“Fruit of the loon” is the best way I’ve ever heard to describe someone who is as inexplicable as his or her parents.

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2 lessons I’ve learned from Oregonians:

“Never ride a horse in the living room.”

“Only shut the fridge door if you head isn’t in it.”

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The first time I sing “Happy Thursday” to the melody of “Happy Birthday,” it’s funny. The 40th time, though, Identifies those with impulse control.

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I give you the bird.

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I think the studio should do two versions of the movie biopic about Queen’s Freddie Mercury: one normal version, and another in which he substitutes yodeling for the normal lyrics of all the big hits. The studio could record all the angry and confused moviegoers and release THAT footage as another movie. You’re welcome, Hollywood.

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…Instead of saying ” Hello ” or ” Good Morning, ” I used one of my old favorites and told 40 people ” DiGiorno ! ” to see how many understood what I was saying. Conclusion: the pizza company will undoubtedly experience a sales spike thanks to my subliminal nonsense.

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“Sauerkraut is what you eat when you need a reminder that all your gastrointestinal parts have a role to play. Sauerkraut is the bassoon of the bowels.” – X

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After an hour of listening to the manager drone on and on about trivial buzzwords, I realized why we all were required to wear safety gear in the conference room. The sign above the manager’s head indicated: ” Extremely High Doltage – Danger of Elocution. ”

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My enthusiasm was so diminished that I had only had enough energy for one shenanigan.

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I asked Marvel to include a new superhero in the Avengers: The Yodeler. Can you imagine the strange looks from surprised villains as he enters a room, yodeling at the top of his lungs? Plus, if the character is killed off, it’s a given that he doesn’t have any friends who will mourn his untimely death.

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Springdale Horror House Afternoon

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By way of preface, I live in a relatively new neighborhood. It abuts an older area behind my house. As a bona fide weirdo myself, I can only say that a couple of the people behind me would be ideal characters in any movie plot involving dysfunctional and possibly homicidal misfits. When I was having internet fiber cable installed, I only had a few seconds to warn the crouched technician as one of the eccentric neighbors made his slurred and erratic approach toward us and the fence line.
“Pretend that the ‘Adams Family’ is real. You’re about to meet all of them rolled into one person,” I told him. The technician quizzically looked up and then over at the approaching person. “Wow” was his description of the encounter afterward. “I’ve seen a lot in my years.”
This afternoon, I went outside to chase a squirrel from my bird feeders. Like most houses with questionable pedigree, the residents of one of the houses behind me strive to let the yard grow wild, possibly in hopes of concealing whatever might go on there. I’m constantly battling the encroachment of the foliage and critters which call it home. Everything about the house indicates that its current trajectory will land it on an episode of “Hoarders” or “Crime Scenes of America.”
While I’m not positive that the sounds originated from the yard in question today, I froze as I stood in my small backyard. Even if I were given 20 guesses, I’m not sure I could have determined the real origin of the squawks and murmurs I heard as I went outside. The overcast sky and rain-filled air didn’t add anything wholesome to the fact that the back of my neck was tingling as I listened.
I went back inside and found my Nikon digital camera in hopes of capturing the unnatural sounds just as much as the visual if anything ran out of the house missing an arm or shouting in an unknown language. While finding a clear space in the overgrown foliage, I noticed something unusual: a 3-foot blue and white bunny rabbit hanging by a rope about 10 feet from the dark porch.
“Oh hell no!” I told myself as I went back inside and pretended it was just a normal day in East Springdale.
I enjoy a good horror movie but choose not to be the guy getting told “Don’t go in there!” by those watching.

The Invisible Post

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NBC has opted to pick up my latest TV pilot tentatively titled “Unfinished Business.” It’s a prank show in which we scare the daylights out of people momentarily after they enter the bathroom.

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“Take a bite out of crime” is the worst diet advice I’ve ever heard.

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Motivational quote By the time you get there you're gonna stink.

Motivational Quote: By the time you get there, you’re gonna stink.

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Friends in their 20s, stock photo.

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“It’s not rocket séance.”

This should be the new cliché, especially given the current trends.

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“You can run but you can’t hide” is a really strange saying to teach a kid, if you think about it.

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when it's bean burrito day at the cafeteria at work

Bean Burrito Day at work…

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The first time I sing “Happy Thursday” to the melody of “Happy Birthday,” it’s funny. The 40th time, though, Identifies those with impulse control.

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“80% of people dislike their jobs.” – Whoever cited this study is an optimist.

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She had Bette Davis eyes; unfortunately, though, she had Danny Trejo’s face.

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Most people are familiar with albino animals. For whatever reason, most aren’t aware of melanism, which is the opposite of albinism.

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Concert attendees of last night’s Luke Bryan AMP performance were initially perplexed by the show commencing 30 minutes early. It turns out one of the stage crew members had accidentally hammered his own hand near an open mic.

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I’m glad he went to medical school after the RN program in Oakland expelled him. ‘Nurse Dre.’ Is way less cool than “Dr. Dre.”

An Allegory Of It

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The light summer evening rain faded after a couple of minutes. I walked for quite a while along the edge of a long ridge as I admired the vista that was unfolding in front of me.

The air pressure seemed to plummet.

The horizon’s colors evaporated and the air slowed. The lazy blue sky darkened as the lighter clouds coalesced into ribbons of black. Insects ceased their instinctive chatter. For a brief moment, I could hear the faint murmur of what sounded like thousands of voices. Though I could see no one, something on the horizon was watching me.

Whatever it might be sensed that I was observing it and the voices immediately ceased. I could feel it shift to make its approach. My hair didn’t stand on end but I felt like falling to the damp ground. My stomach gurgled and my neck constricted like it often does at that moment immediately prior to nausea. “It” slowed as it crossed the flat valley, stopping near a large solitary tree. As it hovered, the tree lost form and its living leaves began to swirl and shimmer as if they had become thousands of imperceptible insects. The nothingness of the ‘it’ enveloped the tree and began to coalesce along the fertile ground.

Oddly, I stood my ground, my curiosity in defiance to self-preservation. After decades of walking the earth, it seemed as if the worst truth would still be a comfort to me.

“Not today,” a quiet voice whispered, literally in the air.

My chest compressed as ‘it’ passed over me and through me. I could feel the interminable nature of it as it passed.

After it went, I stood motionless, watching the sky infuse with sapphire hues again.

As I stepped toward the place where the tree once stood, the insects began to chirp and hum again.

My pace quickened. I knew that all my steps were now counted and measured.

Listless in Seattle

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“You can run but you can’t hide” is a really strange saying to teach a kid, if you think about it.

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The salad dressing was too strong. It was raspberry vinairegret.

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They were a proverbial match made in heaven. He was the human equivalent of Axe body spray and she was a pair of over-sized reflective sunglasses.

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They asked me to say a few words about the deceased. No one mentioned that I was expected to say GOOD words. A heads up would have been appreciated.

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“Safety Dance,” for those born a million years ago, was inspired by the songwriter’s ejection from a nightclub about the way he was expressing himself through dance. Let this be a cautionary lesson to all of you as you sit at your desks, dying incrementally as the cloak of career embraces you.

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I got arrested. I thought the banner said, “Tour de French.” To his credit, the lead cyclist managed to keep pedaling.

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In a cosmic twist, he accidentally signed up for the “Write Bitter” course instead. He has nothing good to say about it, though.

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I ain’t saying she’s two-faced, but when she talks, it is in stereo.

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Word joke: If you kidnap an equestrian, he becomes a sequestrian.

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An ‘uplifting’ photo I made. Energy inevitably changes form; why not harness it?

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Given the occupant of the White House, “I can’t wait to get under the sheets” can mean wildly disparate things.

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A housekeeping supervisor’s job title should be: Neatwork Administrator.

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I’ll be playing cello with the orchestra tomorrow night. They don’t know it yet, though, so be cool.

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A Springdale Morning’s Anecdotes

With the lengthening days, my inability to sleep soundly in the mornings once again dragged me from the bed and out into the morning. I chose to walk a byzantine and unplanned path through the bowels of Springdale’s downtown.

The brightest and most vivid storefront at 4 this morning was that of “Mr. Taco Laco.” I pitied those who would work there later today as the throngs of goofy Americans crowd in, each trying to eat their weight in appreciation of Cinco de Mayo, a dubious excuse to imbibe.

I stopped and admired the neon promise of salvation at the next corner. I was about to snap a photo of it but the inclination passed as I remembered that the worst logo in modern American history was just across the street. As I walked past it, I considered buying a large black sheet to hang over it, one to conceal its hideousness. The Chamber of Commerce is the furthest thing from a comedy club, though, so perhaps I’ll continue to just imagine doing so.

The store near the corner barbershop on Blair Street caught my attention. Despite the hour, its lights were blazing. The mannequins all seemed trapped in mid-step, waiting for me to pass and begin their secret dance. The store was strangely lit, like an aquarium.

As the theme song from “Stranger Things” started, an image of “The Langoliers” came to me. Though I was the sole owner of the morning, I knew that soon the streets would begin to hum with people as they began their days. I think the feeling was amplified by the empty and newly-renovated Tyson hatchery building. Its front was dark and I could see empty tables and chairs awaiting their occupants, each one preoccupied with whatever business they might be engaged in.

As I turned on to Grove Street, I surprised a man standing on the landing of his upper story converted apartment. He was smoking. The converted house he lived at was one I had lived in almost 30 years ago. Knowing the people who would need to live in such a place, I knew that his day was probably not going to be filled with pleasurable pursuits. When I lived on the lower floor of that place, the upstairs neighbor loved blaring “Opposites Attract” by Paula Abdul. He played it a dozen times in a row, day after day. He was one of the meanest and ugliest people I’d met and he certainly didn’t look like a person who would listen to Paula Abdul; his preference, based solely on his looks and personality, should have been a drum track against the backdrop of people screaming. (Not Top 40 material, I would imagine.)

When I passed the creekside behind the Montessori School, the one which began as First Baptist Church and then served as a drug rehab facility for years, the thickening mist on the creek rose to about shoulder height. As I passed the curve behind the fire station, I didn’t see the opossum until my foot was next to him. I did a stupid dance backward and the possum scrambled away. Unfortunately for him, he chose to run forward and was trapped against the black wire fence as it ran up to the underpass of the railroad trestle above it.  I stood for a moment under the train tracks, unable to see where my new friend had hidden.

About 100 feet further along, a skunk was hunkered down on the rise to my left. He didn’t pay me any attention as I whispered, “Here, kitty kitty” to amuse myself. I survived another day without being sprayed by a startled skunk. I’ll tell my wife later that it’s a certainty that I’m going to get sprayed at some point. Walking in the deep dark has its benefits and dangers.

Crossing Johnson Street, I remembered a rainy Friday afternoon long ago when I was driving too fast and failed to stop soon enough at a stop sign. I hit the driver door of a souped-up Honda. The driver had borrowed his roommate’s car without permission and I had rewarded his bravery by hitting him. The owner never filed a claim. The policeman who came to the scene was a little irritated at me. Not because of my excessive speed, but rather due to his dashed hopes. He had spotted what he thought were empty beer cans in the back floorboard. He had excitedly reached for one with an “Aha!” expression about to pass his lips. The cans were non-alcoholic beer cans. I couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh some more. He ticketed me and I didn’t complain because I deserved it. The officer should have received a commendation for not screaming at me as I smiled at his diminished glee of catching me in the act of driving while drinking non-alcoholic beer.

The aura of older homes in the dark streets always appeals to me. The defects are hidden, the owners tucked away in slumber. I pass the houses, seeing only the splendor of the intricate woodwork, covered porches, and elaborate trim inside the living rooms.

Another Beautiful Wood Panel from Snapfish

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My latest 11×14 wood panel/picture, which Snapfish custom-made for me. Just in time for Season 2 of “The Handmaid’s Tale,” this picture will remind me of not only the perils of an authoritarian government but also the dangers of letting me have photo editing tools at my disposal. I must admit that I totally rock the dystopian red outfit, though.

When asked how my wife Dawn sees the future with me in it, she replies, “…with eyes closed.”

 

#handmaidstale  @handmaidsonhulu

Random

It is with a heavy heart that I report the passing of a beautiful, short life. Weekend was born on April 20th, 2018 at 5 p.m. It departed this world at midnight on Sunday, April 22nd, 2018.

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These disgraced actors have to take work wherever they can get it. I saw a trailer for the former “House of Cards” star. He’s in an endoscopic medical malpractice documentary titled “Lost in Spacey.”

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You’re right – I never mince words. Chopped usually works nicely.

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I’m not making a point, but I noticed I’ve never seen a sign indicating “Ninja Breakroom.”

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As far as good concerts go, the Cleveland Cannabis Chamber Orchestra always ends its performances on a high note.

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I taught my cat to speak English. But also to never want to.

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I’m not saying that Drew Barrymore is a has-been; on the other hand, her first name is literally past tense.

P.S. This is supposed to be amusing, unlike the train-wreck known as “Santa Clarita Diet.”

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“…I hit him so hard with a clever comeback that he looked like he had just gargled a package of tic-tacs.”

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Cliché vs Patents: I sowed the seeds of doubt and Monsanto sued me.

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It must be time for Spring because I felt the gentle, cool Febreze on my face.

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Did you know that if you put an onion in a sock to cure a common cold that you’ll end up with an onion that’s probably not worth eating? #medicaladvice

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“Sir, I see here you’ve written ‘Bob’ as your first name. Your license clearly indicates that ‘Robert’ is your first name.” He handed Bob back his license with a smug and condescending look, one which he had practiced for a couple of years.

“Well, Richard, I guess you have the same problem because I’m pretty sure your license doesn’t have the name that best describes you, either.”

Game, point, match.

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The great trash wars of 2018 have begun, at least on my street.

I hope that my browser search didn’t get flagged when I googled “Weaponized Trash Can” today.

P.S. I won’t target the participants in said excursions.

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You wouldn’t know it, but East Springdale is built on a massive and ancient burial ground. At least, I presume so, given the sheer level of weird around here.
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The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but the sidewalk to hell is paved with the frustration of people who take 10 minutes to order their food.
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They told me to always watch out for number one. Paranoia, however, told me to keep a close on two, three, four, and five as well.
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I fell off my high horse yesterday. I’m not sure how it happened, but I’d like to talk to the person who taught him how to vape.
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In a magnificent world, we would play Twister to the death.
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This is to honor our domestic cat Güino, one skilled in the lost art of hiding in plain sight. As we neared slumber last night, my wife Dawn made the mistake of asking, “Where’s the cat?” Ten minutes later, after looking in the literal last place we’d expect two dozen times, the cat defied Schrödinger and mysteriously appeared, apparently reading his comment card of complaints to us.
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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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