Tag Archives: humor

“Fixing” Christmas

“None of the girls wants to get boy cooties,” my daughter said.

She was explaining why the girls were making the boys hold their sleeves instead of their hands when the boys in the 4th grade class and the girls in the same class performed a brief dance number as part of the class’s participation in the school Christmas show.

Their hands only touch briefly and for three, maybe four times, the teacher explained. Still, it had not stopped a fourth grade boy from writing a note to the teacher saying he didn’t want to participate because he could get girl cooties.

Christmas time is often about fixing things as well as getting or giving new things. And while some of the things being fixed aren’t trains or tricycles, doll houses or even decorations, they are still important to nine year olds.

Fortunately, I came upon a solution: gloves. They were already supposed wear scarfs as part of their costumes. What was more natural than gloves to go with the scarfs? I purchased six pairs of inexpensive bright pink gloves and proposed their use to the teacher. Each girl would wear a pair to practice and maybe even at the performance, insulating them from the dreaded “boy cooties.”

My daughter was immediately taken with the idea, and once the teacher approved, the problem was solved. Or, at least, I hope so. The performance is still a week away and who knows what viral debasement those young boys may yet let loose upon the world of girls. There mere existence is proof of an aberrant decline of fourth grade, if not all of humanity.

Unfortunately, the other challenge I’ve been asked to fix may not turn out as well.

I have taken a vow of silence -- batteries not included.

I have taken a vow of silence — batteries not included.

I came home from work last night to find a stuffed dog in a striped winter scarf sitting on the sofa in the foyer. He held a note that read: “I need help please fix me!”

From what I can gather, his push button voice module was no longer working. How long had it been non function my daughter did not know. She possesses quite a collection of stuffed animals, ranging from finger puppet stuffed animals to a pink unicorn large enough to use as a pillow.

The dog could have recently gone mute. Or he could have taken a vow of silence many months back in protest to being ignored. The “you won’t speak to me, so I won’t speak to you either approach to communication.”

I have opened up the dog, inspected his battery cage, which appears to have a missing on/off switch, and I have followed the wires from the battery cage to what I believe is the voice module. It is inside a white sack sown snuggly around the module.

I have checked the batteries, tried jumping the connection to bypass the switch, and have even mostly freed the module from it sack in order to try to examine it.

It is a cramped space inside the bear and my fingers are not the type with tapered types. About as wide as they are long (from the base of the hand to the tip of the middle finger), they are more suited from tracing around to make hand turkeys than they are for operating in a confined, stuffed dog, chest cavity space.

I could slice the dog open, but I am not sure that would fix anything or make me any the wiser about the operation of the voice module.

I will take another look at the dog, but not tonight. He is still a viable stuffed dog, even if mute.

He may have to remain that way.

I guess I could always buy him a pair of gloves.

Leave a comment

Filed under Christmas, Photo by author, Story by author

Monday (morning) evening writing joke

Sometimes, good things take time; and awful things can take even longer.

Sometimes, good things take time; and awful things can take even longer.

I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. A few months back at a writing conference, I happen to talk to an agent and I asked her what was the most important thing she looked for in a manuscript. She said, “Good writing.”

When I got home I immediately sent her my manuscript.

Then I heard nothing.

And after a few more months, I still heard nothing.

Eventually I caught up with the agent at another writing conference and I was about to ask her why I hadn’t heard from her, when she raised a hand and said two words: “Still looking.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Monday morning writing joke

The Devil’s Dictionary: Abstainer, Adage, Age

In our continuing quest to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past and see how relevant it is, we continue with The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. Originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.

For example, here are definitions for Abstainer, Adage, and Age. The Old definitions are Bierce’s. The New definitions are mine or somebody else contemporary. The new definitions can also be simply examples of The Devil’s Dictionary definitions. 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

Abstainer, n. A weak person who yields to the temptation of denying himself a pleasure. A total abstainer is one who abstains from everything but abstention, and especially from inactivity in the affairs of others.

Adage, n. Boned wisdom from weak teeth.

Age, n. That period of life in which we compound for the vices that we still cherish by reviling those that we have no longer the enterprise to commit.

New Definition

There once was a man, an abstainer,
a four-square, by-the-book refrainer,
who couldn’t live up to the adage —
something wise and about cabbage.
He refused to believe it was a sustainer.

He did not believe he must dine
without a proper glass of red wine.
Upon such a stewed mess,
boiled and very plain no less:
the adage about cabbage, he declined.

He now hangs out in a ratty ol’ garden,
but eats only his own private slumgullion.
Yet, to all who pass by
and not wanting to know why,
he says cabbage has made him well again.

Leave a comment

Filed under Ambrose Bierce, Devil's Dictionary, poetry by author

Freeform Friday: “Bah … Festival”

Bah … Festival

http://imgur.com/H4xYX

[Poet’s note: My poetic response below is to the message in the link above.]

Happy festival of planets and stars
of magic men that travel from afar
of little people who slave all night
in the cold so someone else can take flight.
Happy festival of growing debt
of presents you don’t want or haven’t seen yet
of holiday cheer without smiles
of jammed parking lots and lines for miles.

Yes, Merry Christmas to you and yours,
attending parties that feel like chores.
Yes, Merry Christmas and presents, too,
and the tree that lights: red, green, and blue.
You say, “Merry Christmas is all I’ll hear,
and please don’t feel less of any good cheer.
Kwanzaa and Hanukkah, well they’re just fine.
You have yours and I’ll have mine.”

So in this season of brotherly love,
of peace, good will, and stuff from above,
when a big fat man dressed all in red
driving flying reindeer and a toy-laden sled
slides down your chimney in the middle of the night,
even if you don’t have any, though you just might,
coming at the moment when your dreams are strong
and hope has it greatest chance to belong,
I hope you have a Merry Christmas without dread
and don’t let Happy Holidays play with your head.
For if you do and you then let it stew
your heart will miss out of the headiest of brews.

Have a ho-ho-ho-whole lot of fun this holiday season.

Have a ho-ho-ho-whole lot of fun this Holiday Season.

Leave a comment

Filed under Freeform Friday, Holidays, poetry by author

cARtOON tO yOU tUESDAY: pOSITIVE rESULTS

patient talking to doctor

Sometimes words cannot adequately express….

What the doctor wrote

And sometimes what is expressed is not quite adequate ….

Leave a comment

Filed under cartoon by author, CarToonsday

I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect: blowing your own horn

Writer, no respect

Sometimes it’s hard to blow your own horn.

I recently attended a music festival to try to sell some of my books when I overheard one musician say this about my writing to another musician: “His writing reminds you of a clarinet — a wind instrument.”

Leave a comment

Filed under cartoon by author, Monday morning writing joke, no respect

Book jacket blurbs you may never see

Blurb for the memoir of Bob the electrician:
“His story was electrifying. Certain to have a positive impact on your life.”

Blurb for mortician’s erotic horror novel:
“His debut novel will keep you up all night and leave you feeling stiff the next morning.”

Blurb for a pharmacist’s self-help book:
“This book is the perfect Rx for what ails you.”

Blurb for a plumber’s thriller:
“This book leaves you drained.”

Blurb for a pet groomer’s memoir:
“His brush with death will leave you panting for more.”

Blurb for a firefighter’s collection of short stories:
“His wit is only matched by his striking ability to fire the reader’s imagination.”

From Wikipedia:
A blurb is a short summary accompanying a creative work … The word blurb originated in 1907. American humorist Gelett Burgess’s short 1906 book Are You a Bromide? was presented in a limited edition to an annual trade association dinner. The custom at such events was to have a dust jacket promoting the work and with, as Burgess’ publisher B. W. Huebsch described it,

“the picture of a damsel — languishing, heroic, or coquettish — anyhow, a damsel on the jacket of every novel”

In this case the jacket proclaimed “YES, this is a ‘BLURB’!” and the picture was of a (fictitious) young woman “Miss Belinda Blurb” shown calling out, described as “in the act of blurbing.”

The name and term stuck for any publisher’s contents on a book’s back cover, even after the picture was dropped and only the complimentary text remained.

Blurb example

To blurb or not to blurb, that is the question.

Leave a comment

Filed under blurb, humor, word play

How my mind works

Sometimes when someone asks me a question, my mind goes on a rambling spree. Below is such a spree based upon an issue that came up at work. I place it here not because it is a masterwork of prose, but because sometime stuffing a response full of absurdities is the best I can do. Call it “How my mind works.”

My un-sophisticated wild donkey guess:

They (whoever they are) decide to re-open the contract for bids because they are looking for a version of the bids for separate (but equal) running of our place and the other one.

Then after another round of bids, public presentations (or whatever they are called), and an extension or two to get past the mid-term elections, the decision is made to either award one contract or two based on a giant rock/paper/scissors contest held on the National Mall between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool.

The entire event is MC’ed by Martha Stewart, who will show how to make origami and lovely wedding and holiday center pieces out of the loosing contract bids.

Pumpkin guts

The looked inside his collapsed mind and all they found was a hollow laugh a pile of pumpkin seeds.

The losers will immediately file protests and lawsuits, claiming that the winner used disabled ringers who could only form rocks or paper with their arthritic fingers, and that bid information was leaked to retired generals by doctors’ wives and shirtless FBI agents, semaphoring in information about where the disabled ringers should stand to have the best chance of winning.

And there will, of course, be Congressional hearings at which octogenarian nuns with broken wrists will smile beatifically from the backs of the rooms as Senators and Representatives thump their chests and try to impress the doctors’ wives with their persiflage if not their perspicacity. All the while retired painters enhance the Congressional dome with a nice shade of blood red.

This event, in its entirety, will be carried live on Comedy Central, where the Daily Show will become a never-ending event unto itself, as – Thelma and Louise style – the federal government plunges over the financial cliff and into the abyss of absurdity from which it came.

We will all sit in stunned amazement, then slowly link arms as we rest on the Group W bench, and sing in slow undulation: “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant / You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant / Walk right in it’s around back / Just a half mile from the railroad track / You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant – excepting Alice.”

Leave a comment

Filed under absurdity, How my mind works, Photo by author, Sunday silliness

Nine Year Old Philosopher: “So juvenile”

Nine year old philosopher: juvenile

It’s so hard to grow up when your parents aren’t growing, too.

2 Comments

Filed under cartoon by author, nine year old philosopher, Philosopher

Monday morning writing joke: no accounting for taste

writer; no respect

Sometimes, there’s just no accounting for taste.

I tell ya, I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. I just got back from my quarterly beating … I mean meeting with my accountant. We went over my deductions as a writer. He said I should be careful what I claim. After we’re done and I’m leaving, he leans over and tells his partner, “He writes books nobody will read and checks nobody will cash.”

Since when did accountants become book critics? Cook ’em, yeah, but read one and have an opinion? Next time he puts his two cents in, I’ll make sure it’s in the right column, the one for trash. I know only too well where that one is.

1 Comment

Filed under cartoon by author, Monday morning writing joke