Filed under Trivia question
Three women walk in and sit down at the bar. Two are in street clothes, modest attire. The third is in nun’s clothing.
Bartender asks them what they are having.
The two in street clothes say, “Boilermakers.”
The nun says, “Water.”
After the third round of drinks, when the other two women start getting loud and sloppy, the bartender asks the nun why she is hanging out with these two lushes.
“They are nuns, too,” she says calmly, “They have just gotten out of the habit.”
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
A young Ambrose Bierce
Ambrose Bierce, author of The Devil’s Dictionary (1842-1913):
“War is God’s way of teaching Americans geography.”
Updated corollary: I guess since Americans score poor on world geography, we haven’t had enough of them lately.
Final conclusion: Drones anyone?
Q. What is the difference between Santa Claus and a work of fiction?
A. Nothing. Both offer rewards for a willing suspension of disbelief.
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
Q: What’s the difference between a novelist and a politician?
A: One gets paid to tell lies; the other lies to get paid.
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
At the party last night, I accidentally drank a bottle of food coloring. The doctor says I’ll be fine, but I feel like I’ve dyed a little on the inside.
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
Who gives a sock?
I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. The other day, a critic said of my latest work: “His story is as loud and useless as my worn-out socks.”
I wrote the critic and asked him how can worn out socks be loud?
He wrote me back saying he was taking poetic license.
I wrote back asking why he buys his socks from a poet? I must have said something adverse, because I haven’t heard back from him. But he did send me a bill for four pairs of socks.
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
Have critics said of your work: “He never gets to his last word.”? This is called Prattlitus or Prattlitous.
Or perhaps it was phrased this way: “His conclusion is longer than his discussion.” This is called Inconclusivity.
Or, when asked to write a summary of your latest novel, has you agent said to another: “His summary is longer than the original.”? And this is called Conclusionaires Disease.
If so, you may be a prime candidate for the Authors School of Pith, or ASP for short.
As ASP you will learn the two routes to pith: No! and Hell no!
We will tone your flabby vowels, strengthen your grammatical ganglia, and brief your brevity so that you can once again find your soul of wit.
So call today for your free 30-day trial. 1-888-ASP-WIPE. Try it, risk free, and see as we teach you the pleasure of the last word, how to conclude with brevity and dignity, and most important of all, we will teach you the value of summary when you see our final bill.
What the Captain said
The boat is fine, the captain said;
he said it to our face.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
the river sets the pace.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
and then he said no more.
The boat is fine, the captain said
as we sailed away from shore.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
as the river tossed us about.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
as some of us wanted out.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
steering for the roughest part.
The boat is fine, the captain said;
he’d said it from the start.
The boat is fine, the captain said
as the waves thumped into the boat
The boat is fine, the captain said
as some of us tried to float.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
Come back again next year.
The boat is fine, the captain said —
but captain, I hope you’re not here.
The first, fall flush of success.
Filed under Monday morning writing humor, poetry by author
Even the registered mail doesn’t recognize me.
I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. Just the other day I went to pick up a registered letter addressed to me from an agent, but the post office wouldn’t let me have it because they said I wasn’t the writer the letter was addressed to.
I showed them by driver’s license. Not good enough.
I showed them my Social Security Card. Not good enough.
I showed them my library card. Not good enough.
Only when I showed them a box full of rejection slips did they believe me.
Filed under Monday morning writing joke, no respect
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