Category Archives: puns

Brush with success

Brush with success

Corner in a corner of his mind

He painted himself in a corner in a corner of his mind. His first brush with “success.”

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Found story: Cat-ching a conversation

No cat, not human

What do you mean you don't have a cat? Aren't you human?

Overheard conversation at a cat show where there were over 250 cats representing about 40 different breeds.

Cat fancier to an eight-year-old girl: “Do you have a cat?”

Eight-year-old girl: “No, but I have two guinea pigs.”

Cat fancier: “Cats and guinea pigs can get along.”

Girl: “I also have two dogs.”

Fancier: “Cats and dogs can get along.”

Girl: “I also have two birds.”

Fancier, frowning slightly: “Well, maybe sometime in the future you can have a cat.”

I wonder if Noah had the same problem.

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Filed under Cartoon, cat, Found story, humor, puns, satire

Plucked from the breadlines: Food Porn found near your toaster

News Flash!

Beware of this food porn creeping into your local food store. Spotted today was FlatJacks, an innocent looking addition to your diet, promising to make life easier and in two flavors: Original and “BarBQ.”

All you need is a toaster and about 5 minutes of your time, and all your fowl desires will be met!

Chicken from a toaster

Chicken from a toaster! What next? Will pigs fly?

When asked, the chief of police said: “FlatJacks is not to be trusted. He will lay your waist, and leave you with nothing to crow about. We have one of top detectives on this and he will get to the bottom of it, and then we will lay out the facts and seek prosecution of those trafficking in this chicken s&*^t operation.”

Psychiatrists are warning that what FlatJacks has to offer could be habit forming. Said one: “It’s almost magical, what FlatJacks is promising. ‘Chicken from your toaster!’ Who ever heard of such a thing? Pure fantasy! It would be as if I said if I had enough feather dusters, I could fly.”

Even one Republican Presidential candidate has weighed in, saying: “FlatJacks is free market capitalism at its finest. We politicians used to promise a chicken in every pot. We can now promise one in every toaster! That’s progress.”

Asked if he had tried one, the politician coughed and clucked as if to clear his throat and then referred the question to his aid.

When asked about FlatJacks, the Democratic candidate said he would form a commission to study the matter, and take that commission’s conclusions under advisement.

One local preacher took no time in condemning “this abomination to the very soul of Christianity.” Wiping away sweat as he spoke outside on the church grounds where an outdoor dinner and preaching was taking place.

He continued: “Young folks today do not know the true meaning of dinner on the grounds. In my day, the men dressed in their best Sunday clothes and women wore skirts and dresses, and often wore bonnets or hats, and they brought their best homemade fried chicken. It was a little friendly competition to see who had the best. Now, well now, look around here.” He waved his arm toward his brood. “They come in summer shorts – men and women – I say, and the women, well some of them wear the scantiest of things, and bring KFC chicken, and don’t even bother to take it out of the bucket. Now, now they will be bringing these FlatJack things and demanding we have toasters outside and long extension cords, and rows and rows of toasters. This will become one big stick it and click it dinner. Stick it in the toaster and click the lever down. Stick it and click it. This is Satan’s handiwork, I tell you. Satan’s handiwork.” In the distance a roster crowed for a second time and the preacher broke down and wept.

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Filed under absurdity, Chicken, church, FlatJacks, food porn, Found story, humor, puns, wit, word play

Parting shot: Mary Christmas

Mary Christmas

Mary Christmas, wherever you are.

Let us Harold in a New Year.

Commentary: in case you are wondering, this is an actual sign in the small city where I live. I could not win a spelling bee if thrown into one, but I do know that Merry can be Mary, and Mary Christmas could be the name of somebody, but usually it Merry before Christmas, and maybe after Christmas, too. I also know we all have our crosses to bare, and some of them can be more of a bear than others, but sometimes we bare our crosses in ways that might make Mary merry, especially with Harold around. Here’s hoping we can all find a dictionary in 2012 when we need one.

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Filed under 2012, Christmas, humor, New Year, puns, word play, words

“Wings” to heaven.

DEAR ABBY: I am a middle-aged woman who is Baptist by faith. I believe that when I die I will go to heaven, My problem is, if going to heavean means being reunited with my parents and other family members, then I don’t want to go! The idea of spending eternity with them is more than I can stand, but I don’t want to go to hell, either. Any thoughts? –Eternally Confused in Mississippi

DEAR ETERNALLY CONFUSED: Yes. When you reach the pearly gates, talk this over with St. Peter. Perhaps he would be willing to place you in a different wing than the one your parents and other family members are staying in. And in the meantime, discuss this with your minister.

&&&

Sometimes, you just can’t make things up. The entry above appeared in the Dear Abby column of my local paper in November of this year. In one sense, it needs no commentary, though it does remind me of the quote from mark Twain: “Heaven for climate and hell for society.” This also seems like a question the writer should have been asking of her minister before asking Dear Abby or even instead of Dear Abby, whose response is interesting and yet odd in its own way. “Wings” to heaven?  Is this an attempt at a pun?

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The Devil’s Dictionary: Orthodox and Heterodox

Every now and then, it is good to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past. The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce was originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.

For example, here is a definition for the word abasement. The first definition is Bierce’s. The second one is mine. From time to time, just as it was originally published, we will come back to The Devil’s Dictionary, for a look at it then and how it applies today. Click on Devil’s Dictionary in the tags below to bring up the other entries.

Old definition:
Orthodox, n. An ox wearing the popular religious yoke.

New definition:
Orthodox, n. An ox wearing the popular religious, political, or other social yoke. Especially true during an election year, and even more so as the “election year” becomes more than one year. The yoke gets broader and narrower at the same time, covering more of the ox, but holding him tighter and tighter. See also Heterodox.

Heterodox, n. More than one ox being yoked. Used to be a man didn’t care about another man’s yoke, as long as it wasn’t his ox getting gored. Nowadays, there are more yokes than oxen, so be careful or the yoke may be on you. If not careful, both orthodox and heterodox can lead to a bad case of oxymoron. That’s where your ox gets told how stupid it is, and the yoke becomes even tighter.

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Filed under Ambrose Bierce, Devil's Dictionary, heterodoxy, humor, orthodoxy, puns, satire, Uncategorized, word play

Thoughts of the blathering idiot: Change

The blathering idiot was emptying his pants pockets when he came across some change he didn’t know he had. He stared at the pennies, nickels, and dimes and he thought about the nature of change:

Be an agent of change, unless, of course, you change your mind.

Of course, you could be so poor that you can’t change your mind.

Change is inevitable; it’s the folding money I’m not so sure about.

Count your change and then count your blessings. Whichever one is greater, that’s where you are: blessed and broke, or cursed with a lot of loose coins weighing down your pockets.

If there was one thing about me I could change it would be … oh, never mind, I’ve changed my mind.

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Not so slim waisted

I'm not sure what to make of this offer on Twitter. If she thinks I am somehow one of these women in the guise of a not-so-slim-waisted man, she would definitely be disappointed.

As a recent member of Twitter, it sometimes surprises me what can get done with only 140 characters.

Take this offer, for example. Certainly the name should say it all: “Jenny Breastits.” But to further drive home the point, she is “@LovelySoftBoobs.” And if that is not enough, her description makes it absolutely clear what she loves.

What I don’t understand is why she wants to follow my tweets? I am not a woman, don’t have the naturally full items she is most interested in, and I possess a not so slim waist. If she thinks I am harboring any of these things, she is suffering from delusions I cannot even begin to fathom.

Twitter may have a limit of 140 characters, but it does seem that at times, all of those characters are odd.

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Filed under absurdity, fun, humor, odd, puns, Random Access Thoughts, Random thought, sex, slim waist, social media, true story, twitter

The idiopathic blathering idiot

The blathering idiot went to the dermatologist. Once the examination was over and the doctor had looked at his knuckle pads and his tinea versicolor, the dermatologist pronounced him a case of idiopathic medicine.

At first the blathering idiot felt insulted. While not the brightest bulb in the box or the sharpest saw on the rack, he did not consider himself an idiot, and he told the doctor so.

The doctor smiled, and then said, idiopathic means “modern medicine does not know the cause of either of your conditions.”

He then explained that for the knuckle pads, “we usually do nothing, unless they start causing you pain.”

For the tinea versicolor, a naturally occurring fungus that is in everybody’s skin, “it just runs a little wild in some people,” he gave the blathering idiot a prescription, then said of having two idiopathic conditions, “It just means you’re special.”

That made the blathering idiot feel better.

He then went to his local pharmacy to turn in his prescription. As he turned in the script, he saw a sign glued beneath the lip of the counter that read: “Select narcotics in time-delay safe.”

When the pharmacy technician took his prescription, the blathering idiot asked, “Which ones can I select?”

“Which what?” the tech asked.

“Which narcotics?” the blathering idiot said.

She looked at his prescription. “Your script doesn’t say anything about a narcotic.”

“But I can select one, right?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not supposed to get any.”

Select Narcotics in Time Delay Safe

Select Narcotics in Time Delay Safe

“But it says I should select narcotics from the time delay safe.”

“It does not.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Where?”

He pointed at the sign. “Here!”

“It does not—”

“Yes, it does.” Clearly this young woman had not heard that he, the blathering idiot, was special. “Come out here and see.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Read?”

She glared at him. “I can’t come out there. It’s against the rules. I am the only person on duty back here right now and the rules say I can’t leave my station.”

“All I want is what the sign says I should select.”

“I think you should go to another pharmacy,” she said and offered him back the script. To be sure he understood, she pressed an intercom button and asked for “special assistance” in the pharmacy.

Insulted when a guard appeared, the blathering idiot snatched the script and marched out the door and to the next nearest pharmacy. As he walked up to the pharmacy counter, he again found the words: “Select narcotics in time delay safe” and hoped he would have better luck here.

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Plucked from the Headlines: Chicken Sandwich Slinger Caught in Crosshairs of Battering Bloggers

Marriage of Socialism and Satan blamed for bizarre barrage of bad press over sandwich give away by Pennsylvania franchise.

Prayers called for by all right-minded Christians in the Chicken Sandwich Slinger’s hour of need. “Don’t get caught waffling,” one supporter intoned, “or you will fry in Hell.”

No official comment from the poultry wing of the political spectrum. Some say they have been bullied into submission and cower at the thought of speaking up for fear of being squawked. “We have decided to lay low on this one,” an inside source said, speaking anonymously on background. “This entire situation is all fowled up.”

“This is not egg-actly what we had hoped for,” C.T., founder and president of Chicken Sandwich Slinger, said when asked about it two weeks ago. “But we stand behind our independent franchise slinger’s actions in offering free sandwiches to legally married couples. Man and woman couples. We prayed about it and have decided to carry this idea nationwide and will be offering one free Chicken Slinger’s Sandwich to couples holding a valid marriage license.”

Unsubstantiated reports show an increase in online requests for ministers’ licenses, with the largest spikes appearing in the San Francisco, New York, and Atlanta areas. When asked about this, 84-year-old C.T. said it was “a feather in our cap,” if the increases were due to his promotional idea. “We’ll yet put the gay ol’ time back into marriage,” he said. “Even if we have to do it one Chicken Slinger’s Sandwich at a time.”

There was no immediate response from the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Alliance.

More details as they become available.

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Filed under absurdity, blog, Chicken, humor, puns, Random Access Thoughts, Sandwich, satire, word play, writing