Category Archives: Whimsical

It’s Not September

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(This picture I made has no bearing whatsoever on the post. It is the comment equivalent of your sister-in-law jumping in to the middle of your conversation again.)

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I took a shower today. It took 2 crowbars and a motorized wench. My neighbor is really angry and is unhappy with the drywall damage. I think I’ll take another shower tomorrow.

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The megaphone is at your disposal. If you’re going to shout out your opinions, first and foremost, make them honest. Secondly, make them informed. Finally, change them as new information demands it. The hesitation to do any of the above is what makes the opinionated shouting so ridiculous.

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You can be sure in life that no one with foot-long words such as ‘cowboy’ tattooed on their body is going to be in the Who’s Who of American Thinkers book.

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I purchased a package of seasoned chicken, one with a recipe on the reverse. The directions indicated “Apply spices liberally,” so I went next door and took my neighbor’s and used theirs too. The country is getting very progressive when the recipes start advocating socialism, too.  (Is this joke too convoluted?)

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The American Bowling Association recently had a competition for slogans. They said it had to be true but witty. You might have seen the commercials. Mine was, “Bowling: Say Hello To Hepatitis.” I didn’t even get an email in thanks for my idea.

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Take a look at the next 2 pictures from a friend’s social media:

 

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The first one is the original picture, while the second one is what I thought I saw in the first one.. PS doing this sort of thing to friend’s pictures is one of my favorite things to do.

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The above picture is one I made as a result of a typo. I admit I spent at least two minutes making it, but it tickled my funny bone.

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The next 2 pictures are from one of my favorite families in the whole world. I made a picture puzzle using about 100 individual pictures, using words, colors and trickery to make the puzzle complicated. Since it’s summer, my friend got started on it recently and posted about the fun/terror at piecing together such a monstrosity. I had the puzzle custom-made, and the tin, too; not only for decoration but to lessen the agony of twelve million failed initial attempts to get started.

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Here is the closest final image I found in my archives, the one I used to submit the puzzle to the company which made it for me…

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I had been wanting to make such a surprise for these friends for a long time. The matriarch of the family last year, leaving a void impossibly large to fill, so I included her in fond memory.

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I Guarantee At Least One Laugh

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Scientists tell us to use stairs to live longer. I’ll believe that when I see scientists living inside stairwells – they’ll damn near live forever in that scenario.

For the average Fitbit user: I’m glad you are tracking your alleged health. It’s important. I’m not sure what you are prolonging, though, unless it is a further comparison to unusually tech-savvy ferrets.

The only thing worse than hearing health advice from a doctor is getting it in person from someone who smokes.

The only thing worse than hearing health advice from a doctor is not hearing it because I’m dead.

I think I had a bad reaction to my ‘meds,’ because I could have sworn my math professor told me to do my homework using fractals instead of fractions. My work was all wrong, but it sure is pretty to look at.

I hate it when I’m reading vague warnings on medications. If it says “explosive diarrhea” instead of “projectile explosive diarrhea,” that kind of thing really matters when planning your social calendar.

“Were you born in a barn?” is the wrong thing to ask kids these days. The last time I asked, my nephew shouted back, “I must have been, because there were cows and asses in there.”

If I were a realtor, I would add “beautiful screen doors on all entrances” to all property descriptions just to confuse the snotty clients.

Likewise, if I were a realtor, I would add “Haunted” to every house listing so that once the house was sold, I would have some prank victims lined up.

I have a jar of nickels. I don’t collect them. I keep them for when some cliché-abusing speaker says “If I had a nickel for every…” Perhaps a slingshot is the wrong method of delivery, but you have to stick to what works.

It’s weird that people say “…all you could hear were crickets…” to describe an awkward social silence because if all I can hear are crickets, I’m already pulling my own hair out.

I jumped off the roof of a ten-story building. The roof was on the ground and awaiting a crane to lift it up there – still, though, I did jump off the roof of a ten-story building. Thank you, English language.

Have you seen the rumor about bees learning Morse code? Well, now you have. And it’s all the buzz around here.

Just once, I would like to attend an opera where the actors suddenly start doing improv.

Opera: squealy singing in another language, punctuated by one delicious intermission.

I’m just kidding, I love opera. Like a brother. Cain and Abel, I mean.

Instead of taxing fast food, I think we should instead require each fast food place to have mucus on at least 5 of their top-selling items. I think Arby’s has already jumped the gun on this one.

I got permission to make my own version of “Oil of Olay.” Mine is called “Oil of Olé,” and is made of 75% taco grease. Like with the original, wrinkles will be the least of your worries.

These jokes are sponsored by Hardee’s: where meat lovers gather to share communicable diseases.

What Day Is It?

I created a new flavor of gum, one made from the things one might encounter on a stroll on an average street: pavemint

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“He died of a broken heart,” shouted both the cardiologist and the poet. But only one of them sent a bill.

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A picture I made, from “Los Tiempos Van Cambiando…” one of the best songs imaginable. “Los Tiempos Van Cambiando” Franky Perez

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NO, I didn’t bring my Yeti to the beach. They prefer to live on the slopes of snowy mountains. And they don’t like publicity, either. Modern marketing has ruined this creature’s ability to live a quiet life.

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Mediterranean Diet: If you can’t spell it, you shouldn’t claim it works.

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I knew I might have picked the wrong job when the boss said: “We are not satisfied with just a double standard here. We insist on a triple standard.”

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It’s hard to think normally when you see Blue Man Group live and then watch the newest Bo Burnham on Netflix.

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The only phrase worse than “I’m wearing my <Vote For Pedro> boxers,” is “I’m not wearing them.”

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Most despised post to date: “That awkward moment when you see that a friend is against socialism when it is for ‘free’ college, but loves making you pay for 13 years of public education for their kids.”

PS: I personally never complain about taxes or refer to myself as a ‘taxpayer.’

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“It’s finger-licking good.” Really? I don’t know anyone who licks his own fingers like that. Besides, if you want to impress me, I’d like to see “It’s toe-licking good.” Anyone who licks their toes to get the juicy leftovers is truly proving the deliciousness of the food in question – and their flexibility.

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A Colorful Alternative

As I look out upon the sheer magnitude of weird and inspirational, I laugh and rejoice when I see people who have the same ideas that streak through my mind. A Canadian man named Jeff Janzen lost his son in an auto accident in 2012. His son was an artist, while Jeff works with cars. Jeff spent a while fixing his son’s car and then painting in black. He and some friends signed the hood in celebration – and then the stroke of genius hit him. The car now has 4,000+ signatures and messages adorning it, from people all over the world. People hear his story and share theirs. It is an incredible way to carry forth a person’s memory.

I’ve written before about how interesting I think our lives and cars would be if we could paint them all in chalkboard paint – or paint to allow friends and strangers to write on our vehicles. Not only would it break our ridiculous obsession with the superficial appearance of our vehicles, but might inspire everyone to think more creatively.

Likewise, I keep meaning to start another signature wall inside my house or garage. Each time someone visits, I could ask them to write their name or the date. In no time, the wall would be a testament to a shared life and something noteworthy. I don’t know if you can picture in your mind how glorious something like this could turn out to be. Imagine if your grandparents had done this starting when they bought their first house. It would now be filled with personal memories for the world to see.

In time, of course, time and circumstance will eventually erode everything around us. But for these brief butterfly moments that delight us, the world would be a brighter place.

Not What You Expected

I got into a knife fight. As you know, the “k” in “knife” is silent – but the screams certainly weren’t.

(The above phonetics reminder was brought to you by the We Need to Retire Now Teacher’s Alliance.)

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You’ve already lost – I’ve won ten thousand, two hundred and thirty consecutive games.

THE CHICKEN GAME

 

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The people who invented Silly String were angrily thrown out of the first meeting to sell it, as the potential marketer got sprayed unexpectedly during a demonstration, and didn’t respond kindly. Not only was Silly String originally created to act as a spray-on cast for broken bones, but it also came about accidentally after the inventors experimented with different nozzles to discharge it. I’m telling you all this in anticipation of a Trump campaign for President. Silly String is a goofy and fun invention, but it can also burn your eyes out of their sockets if you discharge it near an open flame. Trump is no different. Ignore him at your peril. (I wrote this in response to a request to make a political analogy by being educationally absurd. I give myself a B+ for this one.)

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If I’m ever inside a bank, I hope there is a robbery. I’m going to act as if I’m one of the robbers just to piss them off. It will be sort of like “Whose Line Is It, Anyway?” Imagine if I run out with them and jump in the getaway car and call Shotgun. I might end up in prison, but what a great story!

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One of the vilest conversations I ever had in my life was with a Tyson plant manager in the late 80s. I felt so sorry for him – and told him so, telling him I wished he had more years ahead of him to remember the feeling he thought of as superiority turning into the bitter memory of vinegar. He became literally outraged that a human castaway like me (in his opinion) would dare feel compassion for him, lord of his apparent realm. I think about that encounter more often than I used to. Honestly, I think my words struck him like an actual curse.

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I imagine that having zebra-print carpet could be fun, especially if an actual zebra were standing on it when the carpet cleaners show up.

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I wish more people were cannibals. I don’t want innocent people to get hurt, of course, but things would be much more interesting around here. (random thought…)

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Legal disclaimer: This is a joke… Trump’s presidency will result in the first-ever would-be assassin shooting HIMSELF outside the White House.

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T-Minus Now

 

 

Due to some confusion, friends in other states were telling us to be safe tonight and to spread the word. I called 367 people in Springdale and asked them to turn off Fox News and never watch it again, before finding out it was a weather warning they had been worried about.

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Anyone who publicly states that they dislike Sloppy Joes is immediately a suspect individual. Run from them. (PS: There are vegetarian versions, too.)

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Really, really bad joke – read at your own risk! “Can you imagine the horror if you thought you were reading Braille and it turned out to be herpes?”

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As a wise person pointed out: “…Laughing at a bad joke doesn’t mean you condone ridicule of the person or subject in question. It means you are acknowledging the humor you display when you think no one is listening.”

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They told me to practice safe sex. The guy at the bank was angry and told me to get out of there, especially if I didn’t know the combination. It’s wise to always get a complete explanation of things before trying them.

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I not only want to know who wrote the book of love, as the song indicates, but also who wrote the preface of the book of love.

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There are folks who think a “seat belt” is a term to describe a left hook from the driver while the passenger isn’t looking.

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I tried to turn Fox News off a few nights ago but alas it had defeated me: it had turned me off years ago.

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Ballet: the only dance method invented by aliens.

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My wife wasn’t amused when I pointed out that fig newtons taste a lot like tobacco if you think about it. (They really do.)

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While I would rather be forced to sit on an increasingly larger series of conical objects than have Trump become president, if there is any consolation for me is that I’m a middle-aged white guy, the political equivalent of the ruling class. I can hide in plain sight and no one will know I’m a crazy liberal. (PS: And I made a map just for giggles…)

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A Zen Metaphor

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I met a shadow of myself on the path. My shadow was returning to reminisce and relive memories, while I walked to find original meaning. Meanwhile, the path laid at our feet. (A Zen metaphor for a late Tuesday.)

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Nothing to See Here

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This bad joke has earned me at least 2 1/2 laughs and groans over the years…

 

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As dumb as Trump sounds, Tom Cotton does 14 layups of hateful idiocy in the time it takes Trump to wash his tiny hands and dribble the ball down court.

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“There’s no place to eat,” the moron said with great conviction, oblivious to the intrinsically skewed worldview contained in his complaint. (My publicist also told me I needed to focus more on posts that will cause readers to make that ‘WTH’ face as they read them.)

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If I knew DeAngelo Williams, I’d have an award made, except mine would be funny. I’d walk up and hand it to him and say…. “Here’s your award for participating, DeAngelo.” And drop the mic. And run like hell because he’s a big guy and also because people don’t like their foibles to be pointed out to them.

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Just to confuse folks, I went into my local Lowe’s and asked where to find ‘bird showers.’ The guy looked at me strangely and said, “Don’t you mean bird baths?” I took a moment and told him, “My birds don’t like to sit down while they are getting clean.” And then marched off. The nerve of some people!

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Smokes on the Water

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I was SO hoping that when I clicked the link about the valedictorian from a Louisiana high school being banned for facial hair that it would be a female student! I’m conflicted about the real story. I don’t know whether to be on the side of the student, Andrew Jones, or the doofuses who thought this would be a good idea. Facial hair, like other monumentally important social issues, obviously warrants this kind of excessive response. We can’t have high school graduates with facial hair. Before you know it, they will be like the teachers and school board members with facial hair, and then other adults will be attending the graduations with facial hair. Andrew had facial hair for 4 years. Tangipahoa Parish is a place we need to remind us of how thinking too hard leads to some crazy ideas.

The school principal wouldn’t comment, but it seemed as if he nevertheless talked out of his ass to everyone else off camera.

 

7 on Thursday

Sarcasm and satire are the most delicious tools for commentary; not only because they contain an element of truth, but also because they convey the message with a flourish that delights the sender and befuddles the recipient. Edit: Use sparingly and rarely on friends, as reactions may vary.

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(*No friends were harmed in the making of this meme…)

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STORE SIGN SALE

“…Details matter and assumptions are a problem, both in retail & life…” -x

 

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Go only where you are wanted? But let your light shine!

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My writing publicist emailed me and told me I hadn’t offended enough people lately & that I need to focus on providing thinly-veiled avenues for the weirdos to seethe about. It’s Malcolm X’s birthday today. Many people forget that he converted to Sunni Islam, the world’s largest religious denomination, a year before his death, after rejecting the Nation of Islam. Naturally, they killed him, which proves no matter what you believe, it is safer to whisper it inside a dark closet. Edit: PS – Like Obama, I’m not muslim, either. And my birth certificate was altered when I changed my name, too, although I’ve never been to Hawaii.