Part 4: Looking our best when looking for clues.
Tag Archives: humor
Eleanor and Rose and “The Case of the Fleaing Colors,” part 4
Part 4: Looking our best when looking for clues.
Filed under cartoon by author, Eleanor and Rose, Story by author
Eleanor and Rose and “The Case of Fleaing Colors,” part 2
Part 2: Eleanor and Rose prepare for the chase.
Filed under cartoon by author, Eleanor and Rose, Story by author
Monday morning writing joke: publisher Q & A
Q. What’s the difference between publishers and terrorists?
A. You can negotiate with terrorists.
Filed under Monday morning writing joke, writing humor
Eleanor and Rose and “The Case of Fleaing Colors,” part 1
Part 1: Eleanor and Rose are catching some Zz’s as our story opens.
Filed under cartoon by author, Eleanor and Rose, Story by author
New word: “congressed”
Upon occasion, it seems that there are gaps in the English language: experiences, ideas, emotions, and even eventualities that don’t quite have a word to identify them. Today, we have one such experience in need of a new definition…
They congressed.
v.i. (verb intransitive): To meet for no discernible reason, to then accomplish no discernible goal, and then to adjourn with no discernible conclusion.
Speeches can be made, positions staked out, even bills passed out, but all of little note in addressing the issues at hand.
They congressed despite themselves, and were well paid for it.
As well as a verb intransitive which means a verb that needs no direct object, this is a new classification of verb, known as the verb intransigent: meaning a verb that has no direct object and does no direct work due to the entropy of ideology, intellect, or the simple overwhelming asinine nature of the persons congressing.
A fine example of a place where congressing takes place. A place where good governing goes to die.
Filed under new word, New words to live by, Uncategorized
cARtOONSdAY: “eLIGHTENMENT”
And that’s the way it is….
Monday morning writing joke: “The story of my life”
Three guys are sitting at a bar.
First guy: “Yeah, I make $75,000 a year after taxes.”
Second guy: “What do you do for a living?”
First guy: “I’m a stockbroker. How much do you make?
Second guy: “I should clear $60,000 this year.”
First guy: “What do you do?”
Second guy: “I’m an architect.”
The third guy sits there quietly, staring into his beer, and then the others turn to him.
Second guy: “Hey, how much do you make per year?”
Third guy: “I guess about $13,000.”
First guy: “Oh yeah? What kind of stories do you write?”
[Editor’s note: Last figures I heard was that the average writer makes less than $15,000 a year from his or her writing. Must be something more than money driving people to write. What drives you?]
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
Freeform Friday: “Stroke of Genius”
Stroke of Genius
by David E. Booker
O’ gods of justice and of light
Pause to consider this poor man’s plight.
He stands erect, with chain saw there
In place left best for underwear.
He yanks the cord with all his might
Hoping to overcome his limpid plight.
The motor chuffs; the man’s abrupt
Wondering loudly why nature interrupts.
He tugs and tugs and tugs once more
Imploring the gods: implore, implore.
Sweat from his face is running down
And he wants to toss saw to the ground.
Yet, one final time he assails his plight,
Stroking and stroking with all his might.
The engine coughs and sputters to life
Then its biting causes him new strife.
Putting something sharp where he ought not to.
Filed under Freeform Friday, poetry by author
Monday morning writing joke: “Heaven or Hell?”
A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.
She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.
“Oh my,” said the writer. “Let me see heaven now.”
A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.
“Wait a minute,” said the writer. “This is just as bad as hell!”
“Oh no, it’s not,” replied an unseen voice. “Here, your work gets published.”
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
The blathering idiot and the job interview
The blathering idiot stood in line for a job interview. He had finished writing his campaign memoir, but so far had found no publisher to accept it. His old job at the candy factory was no longer available. And his off again / on again girlfriend Zoey said she was not going to date a man without a job, even a former candidate for the highest office in the land.
So, here he was in line, down to his last ten dollars. After waiting an hour and half, he was about to be interviewed. If he didn’t get the job, he didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Next,” the woman in the office called out.
The guy who had just finished interviewing stepped out of the small room and past the blathering idiot. His face was ashen. His eyes wide, drool at the corner of his mouth.
“Next!” the woman was louder and more insistent.
The blathering idiot hesitated, unsure he wanted to step inside.
When he did, she immediately reached up and snatched his resume out of his hands.
“Don’t like to read them beforehand,” she said. “Like to feel the vibe off the paper as I look you straight in the eye. The paper can lie, but you can’t.”
She glanced over his resume, raising an eyebrow when she read something in particular. She then slapped the resume down on her desk.
“So you ran for the highest office in the land?”
The blathering nodded slightly.
“Well, did you?” She stared right at him, though he felt like it was more right through him.
“Yes,” he said.
“So, did you win?”
The blathering idiot wondered if it was a trick question. If he had won, would be here, standing before this woman, too scared to sit down? Or would she be the one who might be sweating and too scared to sit down.
“No,” he said finally, “I did not win.”
“Thought not,” she said, her voice gravelly, maybe from too many cigarettes. She had that sharp cigarette smell about her. Some smokers wore like perfume. “Don’t know anything about his Pro-Accordion Party you mentioned, but it wouldn’t have matter. I didn’t vote anyway. Waste of time.”
After a moment, the woman looked up and said, “You can go now.”
“But you didn’t ask me any other questions.”
“My vibe tells me you’re lying.”
“Lying?”
“Yeah, like a politician.”
And there he was, branded for being a lying politician and he hadn’t even won the election. He’d probably never be able to find work now.
Filed under blathering idiot
