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Or for that matter if they were even alive.

But then I became “sensitive.”

And I found that a statement like:

“You are stupid and ugly!”

Could be taken the wrong way.

Well, actually I guess it was usually taken the right way.

But with my new “sensitivity”, I came to realize that

such statements were often not honest.

It was seldom the case that a person was both “stupid” and “ugly.”

Some of the most appallingly stupid people I have ever

met have actually been quite attractive.

And individuals that were sometimes “butt-ugly”

could often be exceptionally intelligent.

I knew I had to change my life,

but wanted to do so without effort or thinking

So, I resorted like other desperate people

(many appallingly stupid and butt-ugly)

to reading self-help books.

One book emphasized that sometimes if we hurt another

person’s feelings we should not just apologize, but over-apologize.

This seemed like a reasonable approach as it did not require thinking.

Here’s how I used this approach to enrich both my and my boss’s life

and possibly help bring us closer to world peace.

I knew my boss was upset with me as he was in his office shoving

pins into the voodoo doll he had made of me earlier that week.

So, I decided to apologize.

Me to boss: I’m sorry that I used an 11-point Arial font on my PowerPoint presentation.”

He seemed unfazed, so I decided to try over-apologizing.

Me: I’m sorry that I took the thermos of soup that was clearly labeled

with your name in the break room and peed in it.

Still not much response, so I decided to ratchet things up a notch.

Me: I’m sorry I ever met you.

Still not biting.

Ok.

Me: I’m sorry you were ever born.

There.

As I left my boss’s office he was in tears.

Tears of joy no doubt due to my sign of kindness,

which was guided and enhanced by “over-apologizing.”

Returning to my office I reflected:

“God, is that guy appallingly stupid and butt-ugly.”

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But I had come to learn overtime that there was no “Free Lunch.”

But as I stood there in the cafeteria I watched one person after another

get their free baloney sandwich and bowl of French onion soup.

Some people even got fruit with their free lunch.

One guy even got a pudding cup.

Finally, I decided what the heck.

I went up and asked for my free lunch.

The server looked around at the serving bins and noticed that they were all empty.

Server: Well how do you like that?

Looks like there’s no free lunch.

Somehow I was not surprised.

Yet I suspect the server would have “found” a free lunch

if I had approached him accompanied by Abraham Lincoln.

Then Lincoln’s Ghost appeared:

Lincoln’s ghost: I’d like a pastrami sandwich with curly fries.

Server: Coming right up sir.

Me: I’m with him.

Server: Sorry. We just ran out of everything.

Server: Here’s your chocolate shake Abraham Lincoln.

Batman: I’d like mushroom burger with a diet Coke.

Server: We only have Pepsi.

Batman: That’s fine.

Server: Coming right up sir.

After about 10 minutes of profanity the person at the desk responded.

“May I help you sir?”

Evidentially, someone had left some kind of chocolate in a wrapper on my pillow.

“That’s a complimentary mint sir.”

As I hung up I wondered?

Why in the hell would I take someone putting a mint on my pillow as a compliment?

Actually, I found it very insulting.

Insulting as hell.

Didn’t they realize that when I went to bed the heat of my head on the mint would likely make it melt

creating a chocolate minty mess of my head, pillow, and hairnet?!

When I went in the bathroom I became livid.

There was a paper cover over glass in the bathroom

When I confronted the front desk about this problem they said.

“Sir, the glass is covered for your protection.”

As I hung up I thought?

Protection from what?

Inadvertently drowning myself if I filled the glass with water

and then tried to take a drink?

Then I realized what they were talking about.

What if some crazy person put the complimentary mint in the glass and I filled the glass with water

unaware of the mint’s presence, taking a drink from glass and subsequently choking to death on the mint.

After that I relaxed and decided that the people running this hotel were true professionals and

really knew their stuff. The rest of my trip was a pure pleasure.

Man, am I glad that for my honeymoon I decided to stay at Motel 6.

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It was “snake” music clear and simple.

You know the kind they like to listen to

when they’re being charmed out of a basket.

Though with the extra heavy bass speakers in the back

when the snake drives his low rider down the  street

the windows of the store fronts vibrate reflecting

the  multiple colors of his snake tattoos.

He’s  just come from the library with books on

mouse hypnotism and hamster ventriloquism.

At home he sips whiskey and flips pages.

The next thing we know he’s at the pet store

marching a bunch of zombie-like mice toward the exit.

When the cops come through the front door

he and his mice hide behind a stuffed iguana.

From the cage section a hamster says:

“He’s in the back storage area. Get ‘em.”

As the cops disappear through the door

he loads his mice into the back of  his car

and hisses:

“I’m not going back to prison.”

Turns the keys in the ignition,

which starts the car

and the alluring rhythm

of snake music.

First, the chicken crossed the road.

Then he came back to the original side of the road using the pedestrian signal.

Then he crossed the road and came back yet again.

He crossed the road again later that day came back twice more and crossed it again.

When word got out about the magic chicken.

People came from miles to see him.

They were seldom disappointed as we would often cross the street

and return several times in one day.

Some people called it a “Miracle.”

The Church said it would take it under further consideration before forming an opinion.

Then one day they closed the liquor store across the street

from his house,

so he stopped crossing the street

and just walked down the block to the liquor store on his side of the street.

We’re dependent on Middle East Oil because we need it to grow spinach for Popeye.

The huge Federal deficit is caused from buying corncob pipes for Popeye

The worldwide sailor pants shortage and global warming is all because of Popeye.

I get sick of it.

Look there’s Olive Oil and Sweat Pea now.

What are they doing to reduce the jobless rate.

Oh, Oh, it’s Wimpy eating a hamburger on Tuesday.

Nice that he has time to eat a burger while this government

refuses to fund research on flesh-eating bacteria.

I put down my bag of Pringles and looked out my 12^th story window

at the commotion in the streets below.

Crowds are  rioting, turning cars over, and burning them.

A man with a piece of beef jerky in one hand,

is carrying a sign on a stick that I can just barely make out:

“Impeach President Popeye!”

Hmmm. I didn’t even know Popeye was President.

Don’t blame me I didn’t vote.

Maybe all this is his fault.

God damn you Popeye.

I curse you Popeye.

Or maybe it’s just my imagination.

Before I return to my bag of Pringles,

just to be on the safe side I drop a can of spinach

out the window on the crowd below.

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I never understood this line as a kid in our “Pledge of Allegiance”,

when reciting it in class at the start of the day.

“One nation Underdog…”

The cartoon character Underdog had many admirable attributes,

such as his devotion to “Sweet Polly Purebread.”

Still, it seems odd that we would all pledge allegiance

to a cartoon character at the start of the day.

It’s not as though he had invented plumbing or discovered a cure for farting?

Not as far as I know, but then again I don’t listen to National Public Radio.

The polite and correct thing to do for such things, as it typically is for most things

in life that you don’t understand is to just nod your head and smile.

Take for example a dog humping some guy’s leg.

Hopefully, not Underdog.

Or when that guy took off his pants and lit them on fire in church.

And when the police ask him to explain he scoffs and replies:

“Have you ever seen a dog humping a guy’s leg not wearing pants?!”

You know I think a dog probably would,

but I don’t file my observations of dog humping legs experiences

in a permanent part of my brain.

Again, hopefully not Underdog.

The best thing to do in such situations…

Just nod your head and smile.

“Sarah Palin announces last minute 2012 Presidential bid!”

Hmmmm. I’m a Republican and I wish she was dead.

Just kidding. Maybe not dead, but at least incapable of talking.

Just kidding. I’m not a Replubican.

I’m…

What’s that thing called when you greatly distrust both parties?

Oh yeah, “normal.”

Why are these Tea Partiers and others applauding her?

Just nod head and smile.

Oh, look there’s a dog humping a guy’s leg.

Now the same people are giving that dog a standing ovation.

I think I understand.

Last night I dreamed I was in my cat suit

dragging a steak passed the dog pound.

All the dogs looked a bit like Marmaduke.

None of them looked like dolphins.

Life’s that way sometimes.

I kept hearing this beeping noise in my head.

It wouldn’t go away.

I looked down between my legs and noticed I was driving a truck.

Well, backing up a truck.

I was particularly pleased with myself for making this discovery

and for not being a dolphin.

Jim asked: “May I have more butter.”

I replied: “I’m sorry Jim there is no more butter.”

Knowing full well that we had a fridge in the janitorial supply closet

fully stocked with butter.

It felt good to be an asshole.

And to not be a dolphin.

You know…

Getting a pouch sewn onto their abdomen to carry things.

At first I thought this odd.

And a bit disturbing.

Like a “man purse.”

Scary.

But just as a woman could now more easily carry her daily accoutrements.

Like her lipstick and cellphone.

I could also more easily carry my man accoutrements.

Like a 6-pack of beer.

Or my sawed off shotgun.

I found it very freeing to no longer have to carry my sawed off shotgun

tucked down my pant leg where when I walked stiff-legged into a bar

and a bunch of drunken sailors would inevitably say:

“How’s it going there peg leg.”

Before they could properly apologize to my sawed off shotgun.

Having a pouch immediately raised my self- confidence.

I was able to simultaneously enter a 12-step program

and start a national speaking tour as a “life coach”

on how people could improve their lives.

It seems like everyone I know

is also is getting into this “life coaching” thing.

I would look at them and think.

Your life sucks.

What are you going to give advice on how to have a life that sucks.

A better approach might be for them to give advice along the lines:

“How to not turn out like me.”

Or take my own mundane and rather unremarkable life.

Are the depressing details of how I got to this unfortunate state

of any possible value to you?

Evidentially, and people are willing to pay for it.

It’s always better to have some stranger

who knows absolutely nothing about you

tell you how to live your life

rather than take the time to just figure it out yourself.

When I got back from my pouch-inspired national tour

of improving people’s lives I was exhausted.

They greeted me at my front door

with folded arms and frowns on their faces.

What was it with these kangaroos?

At first I thought it was funny that there was no candy.

Then I thought  we were all going to die.

Then I laughed until I wet my pants.

Then I was put on a suicide watch because there was no candy.

When the man with the candy finally arrived we treated him

like a lost Gnome returning from Siberia.

In other words we killed him and took all his candy.

The first thing we did was go through all the candy bags

to confirm they did not contain any snakes.

Amanda ate too much candy too quickly, got a sugar rush, and fell out the window.

Ted put Bar-B-Q sauce on his candy indicating he was likely from Texas.

I thought about putting some of the candy in a piñata

and hitting it with a stick as everyone would enjoy this.

Instead, to save time I just hit Ted with the stick.

And we all took his candy.

People seemed to enjoy this.

Ted made the inappropriate comment that we had hired Amanda,

because she was a piece of eye candy.

I went over to Amanda and put my eye against her shoulder.

She politely said: “What the f**k are you doing!”

And then poked me in the eye.

I went back to Ted and hit him again with the stick.

We invited all our friends over to enjoy the candy,

but when we realized this would result in less candy for each of us

we locked them in the basement.

I saw an airplane fly by outside the window and wondered if they were after our candy.

To be safe I called the police and told them there was a bomb on that airplane.

The President stopped by and asked if we had any candy.

I called the police again and told them that the President

had planted the bomb on the airplane.

Later, after eating so much candy that we nearly popped,

in order to protect ourselves from potential tooth decay,

we brushed out teeth.

And then I hit Ted again with the stick.

One of the men hands the teller a note.

She places bundles of 100 dollar bills in a stack on the counter.

The man takes all the money.

The two men go out in front of the bank and pull their

violins from the violin cases.

They put the cases on the ground and scatter the bundles

of 100 dollar bills inside the 2 cases.

They play their violins for the rest of the afternoon

and nobody passing by drops in less than a 20 dollar bill.

At 4:45 they gather up everything and return the stack

of 100 dollar bills to the teller.

She points to the left and buzzes them through.

The note from the morning had asked where the bathroom

was and if they could use it.

What is wrong with this story?

Correct.

No government funded money was given to upper management

as bonuses, thus f*cking over tax payers.

some guy standing next to me that looked like some

kind of hippy anarchist said:

“He’s not my President.”

I looked at him.

The President looked at him.

When the President’s limousine passed by the President got out,

went over to him and said:

“Too bad your President isn’t here to protect you from this…”

And then punched him in the nose.

We all had a good laugh

and then the man got up off the ground

and went back to the Yugoslavian Consulate.

One time I was watching something on television

that involved humans.

And emotions.

And how these humans interacted with one another.

I told myself: “I care.”

Another time I was at a wedding.

This woman married this man.

Everybody cried.

I looked around at the people eating sandwiches

and whispered quietly into the microphone: “I care.”

When the President said we needed help our fellow man

and we must all work together to make this a better nation.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

But the words came out: “I care.”

On the other hand, I am not fond of people who are not caring.

I asked the guy in the bed at the hospital if he wanted to watch

the football game or women’s figure skating.

He said: “I don’t care.”

This lack of caring was contagious and I found it hard

to care about the success of his my boss’s operation.

But my spirits were lifted when the nurse wheeled in a table filled

with sharp, shiny metal instruments used for performing surgery and asked me:

“So, are you ready to get started doctor?”

Although my only real job at work was to make the morning coffee,

I responded that I was ready and changed the channel

to women’s figure skating.

Nurse: But we have not applied any anesthesia.

Me: I care.

(An allegorical business tale.)

First the guy walked in wearing a giant mouse outfit and yelled:

“Where’s my cheese?!”

“Where’s my goddamn cheese?!”

Then the guy walked in wearing a giant cheese outfit.

I think he was Swiss.

“Can I get a loaf of French bread and a bottle of wine?”

“How about a goddamn loaf of French bread and a bottle of wine?”

No guy in a giant French bread outfit came in.

No guy in a giant wine bottle outfit in.

Then a guy came in wearing a giant cheese grater outfit.

And he grated the cheese guy.

The guy in the mouse outfit  ate the whole thing.

It was a 8 on a 10 scale for fun.

9 if he were cheddar.

Then 2 guys in a giant loaf of French bread

and a giant bottle of wine outfit came in.

We were stuck in traffic.

Did we miss anything?

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I can drink out of the milk carton in his refrigerator,

put it back, and then poke him in the eye again.

I can drop a beehive down his pants and then club

his angry buzzing pants like it was a piñata with a cactus.

And then poke him in the eye again!

He doesn’t care because he’s my imaginary friend.

I can light my imaginary friend’s hair on fire.

I can then put the fire out with a sledgehammer.

I can serve him cheese that is beyond the recommended expiration date.

I can also serve him cheese that is not beyond the recommended expiration

date that is green. It was once orange.

He doesn’t care because he’s my imaginary friend.

I can throw a porcupine that sticks to the side of his head

during his wedding ceremony.

When his wife-to-be looks over in distain, I can hand her an old damp

sponge and tell her it’s from the President.

When the Reverend gives me a dirty look I can say:

“Want some expired cheese Mr. President?”

My imaginary friend doesn’t care because he’s my imaginary friend.

Cop: I’m not imaginary.

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I had just sat down to watch some NFL playoffs,

when I noticed the guy sitting next to me on the couch

was some god damn Druid.

This was going to be a great game.

“We believe the Sun revolves around the Moon.”

“We built Stonehenge.”

“We invented the donut.”

The standard self-righteous, egotistical Druid bravado.

“Can you pass that bowl of cheese puffs?”

“Hey, that commercial had a cat in it.’

“It had a cat in it didn’t it?”

“Did you see that cat?”

“May I please have a beer?

Druids with their cheese puffs, and cats, and beer.

Never once thinking to compliment you on the replica of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

that you’ve painstakingly built out of refried beans, guacamole, and chips.

Now he’s holding the front door open and letting in a flock of geese.

What are we going to do with a flock of geese during a playoff game?

It’s almost half time.

Who’s going to clean up to after them?

Look what they’re doing to the Sistine Chapel!

Druid: “Is their quarterback Abraham Lincoln?”

Me to self: “God.”

“How long is it going to take that elephant tranquilizer

I put in the cheese puffs to work?

At first we thought it was funny when the boss caught on fire.

Then we thought it was really funny.

Actually, hilarious.

Then not so funny when we learned we would not be getting any balloons.

HR walked in and said we should probably do something.

We discussed this premise for some time.

Joe sent out for pizza.

We finally conclude that HR was absolutely right.

We needed to do something as soon as possible.

After the additional pizza Joe ordered arrived.

Fortunately, there was a guy that drove a car

to work that ran on water.

He kept a red can in his office that said “flammable”,

which I believe is Spanish for water.

I dumped the contents over the boss’s head,

but was immediately disappointed by the results.

The 2^nd round of pizza did not come with buffalo wings.

In summary, I felt the meeting was successful.

Nobody was eaten by a lion.

A bunch of homeless people entered the meeting

at one point and we shared the pizza with them,

that’s why we had to phone in a 2^nd pizza order.

Life is filled with this kind of thing.

They’re called details.

Later HR came back and handed out t-shirts

to make sure that everyone’s morale was lifted.

They also proposed we have a Ping Pong tournament.

Finally, much to everyone’s relief

a man came in with balloons.

The halftime show always sucks, let’s have supper.

Jesus: Hey, Judas. I was just down at the used record store and listened to a record by band called “Judas Priest.”

Sounded kind of sinister and evil. What’s up with that?

Judas: Errr, don’t know. “Judas” it’s a common name like Bill or Bob.

Trust me in 2000 years they’ll be naming the Hispanic kids “Jesus.”

God: Don’t trust him. Jesus Christ!

Mrs. God: What did I say about the swearing!

God: Me damn it! Since when did saying my own son’s name become swearing?

Mrs. God: There you go again. Like a sailor.

God: $%#@&!&##!

Mrs. God: $%#@&!&##!$%@!!&*$@#$%@?$%#!&!!

God: $%#@&!&##!$%@!!&*$@#$%@?$%#!&!!##$@&*%*$$#@&^$$#!*&!!&%$$%#@!

Jesus: Where are you going Judas?

Judas: I’m going to go play that Judas Priest album backward after hearing all of that

and listen to the Devil to calm my nerves.

Jesus: Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me.

Some Bible guy name, ok Phillippus: Right, like he didn’t change his name after getting teased without mercy

by the other kids with such taunts as “Hey, Phillippus are you going to fill the hippopotamus?”

And you wonder why they don’t allow religion in our schools?

Anyway…

Phillippus: Don’t look at me I brought plenty of cheese puffs for the 2^nd half.
Phillippus: And by the way “Verily?” “Verily?” Really. “Verily?”

Jesus: OK, look we’ve all had a lot of beer and may have said some things we regret.

Phillippus: Like “Verily?”

Jesus: Yes. We’ve all had a lot of beer. Judas, thank you for having us over to your place for the Super Bowl.

I’m sorry you only have one bathroom and I’m sorry the linen closet can be mistaken for a bathroom.

Judas to self: This just isn’t my day. I planned everything so carefully for this Superbowl Party, so it would be perfect

and everything has gone wrong.  It’s all my fault. I don’t think I could possibly do anything else wrong today.

It will ensure I am elected President.

Indians with pointy arrows: Mmmmm.

Custer: Look at my pretty hair. Isn’t it pretty.

Indians: Mmmmm.

Custer:

Indian 1: What do we do now?

Indian 2: I’d scalp the motherf*cker, but I don’t want the hair of that pretty boy.

Indian 1: Look a herd of buffalo. Perhaps we could feed him to the buffalo before they’re driven to near extinction.

Buffalo 1: No we’re not going to eat that pretty boy.

Buffalo 2: Did you want me to put on a dress if we eat him?

George Washington’s and Abraham Lincoln’s ghosts:

Help us get him into the trunk of our Audi next to the 2 shovels and bag of lye.

We know a place down by the river.

Fox News reporter: And here you saw it on Fox News first.

In Custer’s Presidential bid he has captured both the Indian

and Buffalo vote and picked up the potential backing of both

George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.

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The undisputed boss of bosses at work was a shadowy underworld figure,

who we simply referred to as “King Rayner.”

He was a genius.

Smarter than God himself.

One day he came by my cubicle to ask how a paperclip worked.

First, I showed him how it could be put on one piece of paper and how a second piece

of paper could be slipped under it to secure that piece of paper in a nonpermanent manner

to the first piece of paper.

I watched as his super-human mind absorbed what was taking place before him.

Then, I went to my whiteboard and drew some simple diagrams of what I had just shown him,

except labeling the first piece of paper “sheet A” and the second piece of paper “sheet B.”

I could hear the great gears in his great mind churning.

Finally, I quickly sketched a history of the world on my whiteboard and how it had

essentially evolved around the invention of the paperclip.

King Rayner nodded.

Then he took 2 pieces of paper and simply slipped the paperclip over both of them

at the same time!!!

At the same time!!!

It was like watching Einstein give God the perfect haircut.

Being present during such a technologic break-through sent a chill down my spine.

I modified my sketch of the world’s history to reflect how the history books would no doubt

come to view King Rayner’s paperclip contributions for generations come.

And then King Rayner spoke. “Got any pie?”

their personal growth through the powerful self-development tool of “journaling.”

So, not wanting to be a bridesmaid, I decided jump on the “journaling” bandwagon.

Here’s an example of how it went…

I had…I had never seen a human being wearing such a big pair of underpants.

My Mom: How and what the hell are you doing in here?!

Me: The window and looking for Kryptonite?

Me: Hey, Pope.

Hey, Mahatma Gandhi

How did you get in here?

Pope: The Window.

Gandhi: Got any Kryptonite?

Pope: Whoa. Draped over that tuba.

That’s the biggest pair of underpants I’ve ever seen.

Me: Yeah, my Mom’s. She’s in the other room or through the other window.

Gandhi Who feels like marching to the sea with me to make salt?

Pope: Get your Mom son. She can lead the parade wearing those underpants.

Me: I watch the parade on Thanksgiving.

Gandhi: Hey, what’s with Pope. He’s going through that other window.

Popeye: Where’s me spinach?

You land lubbers sure like your Kryptonite.

Abraham Lincoln: I miss my wooden friend Pinocchio.

Santa Claus: Who the f**k pitched a tent over my tuba?!

Superman: Sorry I’m late. Ahhhh, Kryptonite!

My Mom: Can you be a dear and zip me up.

Who were all those voices out here?

Sounded like a party.

Me: Just me Mom.

Journaling…

with a miniature hotdog oven strapped on my back.

Or at least they strapped a miniature hotdog oven on by back,

when I left the hospital as an infant.

Then, later after I had grown up if I climbed Mount Everest

or was on the Moon I would have this hotdog oven on my back.

What could be better if I were to encounter “hostiles.”

“Everyone likes a warm hotdog. “

“Especially, one served piping hot from a miniature hotdog oven”

-Walt Whitman

What better way to disarm a “hostile.”

Well, I suppose a disarming smile.

Or, perhaps a gun.

Perhaps best for disarming “hostiles” would be a hotdog oven,

and disarming smile, and a gun.

So, if you’re ever looking at the moon through an incredibly powerful  telescope, perhaps from an observatory on the top

of Mount Everest and see a guy with a hotdog oven strapped

to his back, a disarming smile, and a gun.

Think of me.

And be my Valentine.

Sometimes you have to wear a big hat.

That’s when people will say something like:

“Look at him. He’s wearing a big hat!”

Or: “Would you look at the size of that guy’s hat?”

The nay sayers might say with a snicker:

“I wonder what he’s compensating for?”

Would you say that to guy with a big hat

wearing a vest made out of dynamite

if he were handcuffed to you?

When I wear my big hat I feel like me.

Only me wearing a hat.

A big hat.

I try not to become emotional.

When the wind comes up

and blows off my big hat.

I pick it up, dust it off, and put it  back on.

I try not to become emotional.

Sometimes as I wear my big hat

I look upward and try to make sense of it all.

God: “Nice hat, hat-boy.”

Lincoln’s ghost in heaven: “Hey, is that my hat?”

Like:”Look at me I’m a stovepipe hat and I’m up here, while you’re down there.”

Or: “What’s it like being way down there. Sure is great being way up here.”

Or possibly: “What’s the weather like down there shorty. Too bad you’re not up here where you could easily look down a woman’s top.”

Actually, Lincoln’s hat is a bit of a prick, so I guess it’s a good thing it can’t talk.

It’s too bad the Cat-In-The-Hat’s hat can’t talk.

It might say something like: “Look I’m even higher up here than Lincoln’s hat. I get a nosebleed just looking at you way down there.”

Or possibly: “I’m also colorful and bent to the side way up here. Are you standing in a hole down there?”

What’s the deal with these hats?

Why are they such assholes.

Joe was an alien.

And this depressed him.

Because it made him stand out.

Among all the other people at the nudist colony.

He was green, over nine feet tall, wore a hat,

and had alien genitalia.

The hat really made him stand out.

Joe was often miserable,

because he felt other people were staring at him.

Probably because they were.

The other nudists would come by and just gawk at him.

As their mouths hung open,

many would snap photos with their cells phones

or post videos to Youtube.

All of this made Joe unhappy.

Then one day a strong wind came along and blew off his hat.

Suddenly,  Joe was just like everyone else.

He was elected President of the property owners association

and was often sought out to give advice on cutting lawns.

Until, one day a new nudist showed up  from Cleveland wearing a visor.

Joe and the other nudist just gawked at him.

1. Move North Pole to Cayman Islands to get tax break.
2. Outsource making of all toxic and poisonous toys to China.
3. Look into cost structure advantage of laying off all elves and just giving gift cards.
4. Shut down division making Menorah’s. Bad idea.
5. Hire more undocumented elves by lying to them about providing healthcare.
6. Complete venison cookbook. Get 3 more reindeer.
7. Consult naughty and nice list. “Friend” naughty women over 18 on Facebook.
8. Take down Christmas tree and lights before end of July August September.
9. Return Baby Jesus I took from that church manger scene when drunk.
10. Kill arch enemy the Easter Bunny.

Wouldn’t be great if your birthday were on Christmas?

Then people could say: “Here’s your birthday present. It’s also your Christmas present.”

Or: “Here’s your Christmas present. It’s also your birthday present.”

Then people would be substantially less likely to forget your birthday present

or your Christmas present because they would be the same.

Of course, you would only get half the number of total presents.

The number you would get if you were celebrating each separately.

Like a normal human being.

The US aircraft carrier was found adrift

in the Arctic Ocean just south of the North Pole.

Not a single human was found on the vessel.

Just a few scattered reindeer.

It was an ominous sign.

People on the street wondered out loud.

“What have you done Santa Claus?”

“For the love of God Santa Claus, what have you done?”

People now were crying openly in the streets.

The President appeared simultaneously

on all the television stations .

Through his tears he began his speech:

“For the love of God Santa Claus, what have you done?”

A church bell tolled in the distance.

Abraham Lincoln sat silently  in his twelfth story apartment

as tears ran down his cheeks and he petted his hairless cat.

A penguin floated by on a small iceberg.

“For the love of God Santa Claus, what have you done?”

A polar bear looked out to sea from his glacier.

“For the love of God Santa Claus, what have you done?”

Finally, the men’s room door opened and Santa Claus stepped out.

“What?”

“Oh, I see.”

“It’s always Santa Claus lost the remote control!”

“Well, I wasn’t even using the remote control.”

“I wasn’t even watching TV.”

“What?”

“What’s that in my right hand?”

“Oh, the remote control.”

I entered a side door that said: “North Pole Popcorn Factory.”

There were row upon row upon row of Christmas trees.

The elves were pulling down the strands of popcorn and carefully pulling the popcorn off the string and putting the popcorn

into tamper proof packages.

I turned to the head elf who had a big scar on his face and a broken nose that healed crooked and said:

“Is this where popcorn comes from?”

Scar Elf: “Yes.”

Me: “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just bought the popcorn

at the grocery store?”

Scar Elf: “They don’t have room for all the Christmas trees.”

Me: “What do you do with the trees after you de-popcorn them?”

Scar Elf: “We add more tinsel.”

And so it went until Christmas Eve when all the children

were in their beds, then Santa came in looked

at all the Christmas trees and said:

“Christ, not again.”

And punched Scar Elf in the nose.

Alien child 1: Oh boy, just what I wanted! A “probe.”

Alien child 2: Wooh Who…yeah! A “probe.”

Alien child 3: How did Santa know?! A “probe.”

Youngest Alien child: What the f*ck! A pair of socks!!

Wait. Oh, baby! In one of the socks there’s a “probe.”

The Tin Man just stood there at the urinal in the men’s room frozen.

He had tried to take a pee and things had rusted shut.

Again.

Dorothy came in.

You know to carry your can with you.

Especially, with your overactive bladder.

Here let me help you I have your oil can.

Are you doing this deliberately?

Tin Man smiled silently to himself.

Scarecrow walks in…

Hey, guys what’s this some kind of a party.

Oh my God!

I just ate lunch.

Cowardly Lion walks out of a bathroom stall humming.

Goes to sink and washes hands.

Turns around and looks at his tail area.

Son-of-a-bitch!

Not again. Not the fur.

Why does this always happen?

Scarecrow: Oh my God!

I just ate lunch.

Dorothy: You guys all live together right.

No girlfriends right.

Hard to figure.

Santa Claus walks in.

Santa: What the hell’s going on in here?

This some kind of a party?

Look at that guy’s fur.

And what’s going on with that oil can over there?

Oh my God!

I just ate lunch.

Do any of you have gum?

Never mind, I doubt any of you have washed your hands.

You there straw boy, you look like the only normal one here.

Where is the best place around here to buy a monkey?

There’s a yellow snowman outside the men’s port-a-potty

at the top of the ski run.

He looks like a giant inverted lemon-flavored snow cone,

but unfortunately he does not taste like a giant inverted

lemon-flavored snow cone.

When I look at the snowman next to him I think this has the work

of Bode Miller written all over it.

Especially, since Bode Miller’s name is written in yellow on this snowman.

If you drop your sunglasses into a port-a-potty

sometimes its just easier to buy a new pair of sunglasses.

Sometimes.

Same thing with your mittens or toothbrush.

Sometimes.

Probably the best thing to do is write your name with a permanent

marker on such articles.

Even if one day you do end up with 2 pairs of sunglasses.

Like Bode Miller.

They say a monkey invented the “monkey wrench”

What a strange presumption.

It was an orangutan that invented this wrench.

It was just too complicated and ridiculous sounding to say “orangutan wrench.”

For example the President at the State of the Union:

“The fact that we are at war with the North Pole really throws a “monkey wrench” into our relationship with Santa Claus.”

Imagine the same line with the proper naming of the wrench.

“The fact that we are at war with the North Pole really throws an “orangutan wrench” into our relationship with Santa Claus.”

Sounds absolutely ridiculous.

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When invited to a holiday party it’s always good manners to bring something.

A bottle of wine. (not poisoned)

A dessert dish. (not poisoned)

Some rat poison (likely somewhat poisoned)

It depends in large part on the kind of household you visiting,

their customs and traditions, as well as their level of rat infestation.

One of those electric fly zappers that the flies fly into,

spark and catch on fire, and then you can smell the fly burning

may also be appropriate under certain circumstances.

For example, if they have an excessive number of flies due to dead rats.

Sometimes it’s nice to provide your host with a dish such as a breakfast bread,

that they can enjoy the morning following the party when they are tired

from a prior evening of entertaining.

Preferably, one in a rat-proof container that the rats won’t be able to gnaw through

before your friends can enjoy it in the morning.

If you are feeling in a romantic mood,

which would be weird as you a likely showing up to your friend’s house

who is already married and are likely there with your significant other as well,

you could bring some flowers or a plant.

One that might be poisonous to rats when gnawed upon.

(Wikipedia)

Finally, the truly thoughtful guest will bring a leaf blower

to blow all the rats off the other guests and clear a path to the dinner table.

First the cavemen built a snowman out of rocks.

They stacked 3 rocks of decreasing size on top of each other

and then used 2 rocks for eyes and a rock for his nose.

These rocks dropped to the ground.

Then the cavemen dragged a large rock into their cave

and made a Christmas tree out of it.

They decorated it with rocks as ornaments

and put a rock on top as a star.

These rocks dropped to the ground.

Finally, the 3 wise men arrived at their cave.

The guy bringing frankincense was Frankenstein.

Over the years Christmas traditions and practices

were further refined.

Frankenstein’s role was gradually reduced.

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barrage of Tomahawk cruise missiles launched from

their destroyers and flew a continuous stream of sorties

that brought a new meaning the phrase “shock and awe.”

Then their tanks rolled ashore and inland.

They killed everyone that got in their way or asked

for directions. They stacked the bodies like cord wood

along the side of the road. A warning to anyone who stood

in the way of love, compassion, and quality healthcare.

The Doctors Without Borders recognized the sovereignty

of no nation. And one nation after another fell to them like

dominoes on a chess board. Finally, the leaders of China and

Russia met with them to beg for mercy for the world. But none

of the Doctors Without Borders spoke Chinese or Russian and

thought they were being told that their pants made them look fat,

so they killed both the leaders of China and Russia.

No one in China and Russia would ever play dominoes or chess

again, which was too bad because there were some pretty good

chess players in Russian and China had some decent domino

players. But I think they were on steroids.

Finally, it all came down to what everyone knew it would.

The Doctors Without Borders had assembled a dozen of aircraft

carriers off the west and east coast of North America. And because

of this nation’s objectionable healthcare practices the Doctors were

prepared to take down the most powerful nation

the world had ever known.

Canada.

I decided to see just who these “1%er’s” were.

So I googled “1%er”.

I turned out they are an outlaw motor cycle gang.

Much to my relief.

Go ahead google “1%er” right now.

I’ll wait…

See, what did I tell you.

Immediately upon gaining this knowledge I felt better.

Knowing that the country was under control and being run

by someone like the Hell’s Angels things just had to get better.

I went to the sad grocer.

Everyone was sad.

Tears silently streamed down the man’s face

as he counted out his 15 cucumbers

at the checkout stand.

The next woman sobbed openly

as she bought a can of cat food.

She handed the clerk a coupon for 15 cents off.

The clerk said thank you.

This just made her sob more.

She carried her cat in one of those baby packs on her chest.

The cat sobbed silently.

The next guy in line was a circus clown

with a smile painted from ear to ear.

At first this cheered me up a bit.

Then I realized in his basket

were 16 handguns he was buying.

This was the express line for 15 items or less!

My hatred turned to rage.

I was going to ask him if I might borrow one

of his guns to kill him.

Then I realized I had traveled back in time

and the clown was actually the father of my unborn mother.

If I killed him I would never be born and thus could not kill him.

I became actely aware that if I as so much stepped on a bug

I might alter the future, while tearing the universe apart in the process.

I let him buy his guns.

He nodded and appeared to smile,

though tears were in his eyes.

Finally, I got to the sad grocer and bought my one item.

I turned and stepped on a bug.

A single tear appeared on my face as I took

a bittersweet sip from my grape soda.

It was the last time I would ever sip such a grape soda.

Due to a lack of sales the sad grocer stopped carrying that brand.

It seemed like everyone from our janitor at work

to the President of the United States was bragging

about how “online dating” had improved their lives.

So being a person that mindlessly follows the herd

I decided to explore this myself.

It was a lot like interviewing for a new job.

If you get past the initial email screen,

you then work your way through

a thorough phone screening.

Here’s an example of how that went…

Woman 1: Do you have baggage?

Me: You bet. Both light weight for a weekend get-away

or a full set for say a more extended trip to Europe.

All for quick carry on.

No luggage with a pull cord and wheels.

For an able-bodied male to not just carry

his 20 lb suitcase it just seems…wrong.

Woman 1: Question 2…I have a lavender

#3 set of pull cord with wheels luggage  with #9 tawny handles and trim.

What color pull cord with wheels luggage do you have?

It is important that they don’t clash with mine,

yet they express the essence of your masculinity.

Me: Nice talking to ya.

Woman2: Are you an “Alpha Male?”

Me: Errr. I don’t think an “Alpha Male” would have to tell he is an “Alpha Male.”

You would just know when he walked in the room.

Woman 2: Just answer the question. Are you an “Alpha Male?”

Me: Errr. I’m the guy that kills all the other “Alpha Males.”

What does that make me?

Is that what you’re looking for?

Woman3: I’m a yogini.

Me: I’m a man, so I don’t actually know what you just said.

I’m hoping it means you just described yourself as a delicious edible pasta dish.

Or at least you’re not wearing any panties.

Woman 4: In this picture it looks like you want to kill somebody.

Me: Maybe I shouldn’t have had my boss take that picture?

Woman 5: You’d be a lot more datable if you shed 40 lbs of muscle

and shaved all that hair off your chest.

Me: Maybe you should date another woman?

Needless to say…

I bowed out of online dating and instead for companionship bought a kitten.

She never doubts my “Alpha-maleness.”

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I love autumn.

The colors of leaves

raked into piles

that the children

run and jump into…

And the scorpions hide in…

I guess they love autumn too.

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Then I forgot what I was thinking about.

Later, I remembered and thought: “You know, I’m an idiot.”

Then I forgot what I was thinking about again.

I fed the cat.

Later, I was giving my speech

accepting the Congressional Medal of Honor

in a crowded stall in the men’s room.

I looked at the piece of string tied around my finger

and remembered: “I’m an idiot.”

Later, I went to the store and bought some more string.

God: ” Hey everybody look at this mole pattern on my back,

it looks just like a map of Czechoslovakia.”

Sounds like God could use more string.

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Not so I could read the thoughts of other people like aliens do,

but so I could hang out with moths.

Flopping around a light and smacking into a light pole.

It’s something I’ve always wanted to do,

but was beyond my means.

Beyond my means that is until I got that coat hanger

and aluminum foil and made a pair of antenna.

Now whether I’m having dinner with the President of the United States

or addressing world leaders on global warming people sit up and take notice.

Especially, when I start banging into that light pole naked

and they sit on the tack that I have placed in their chairs.

on the toilette that says: “I did not flush.”

The amazing thing is it is also less effort to just flush.

Why take the time to write the note?

Also, you don’t actually have to leave a note.

Once I evaluate the situation myself,

I’ll probably just flush.

Probably.

Still, I suppose leaving a sticky note is the thoughtful thing to do.

So I will leave one like everyone else.

about his high-pitched, squeaky voice.

He was teased in kindergarten

He was teased in grade school.

He was teased in junior high

He was teased in high school.

He was teased in college.

Then upon graduation from college he moved away

and his career really took off.

He quickly became a manager,

then a Director,

then a Vice President,

until he ended up as CEO.

Now people showed him respect and no one

made fun of his high-pitched, squeaky voice.

Not as the CEO of America’s biggest helium company.

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At first I felt terrible about interrupting choir practice.

Then I realized that they had merely provided uniforms

to all those in the belching contest.

And that the farting contest was next store.

Shakespeare: Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. That’s no
pound of flesh.

Pound of flesh guy: It was when I ate it.

feel the earth spin slowly

like a cat’s eye marble

in the dirt on our knees

the circle is drawn

and we play for keeps

with our game under thumb

we measure in inches

as we shoot for the stars

broken circle

broken strategy

directionless we scatter

feel the earth spin slowly

like a cat’s eye marble

see the twinkling

in my winking cat’s eye

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Cat Coffee

I bought my cat a cup of coffee.

I even brought along his favorite mug,

so they could serve him his café latte in his favorite mug.

He just sat there in silence texting on his smart phone.

He didn’t touch his coffee.

Then I remembered he didn’t drink coffee.

I asked him why he didn’t say anything before we went out for coffee.

Again, more silence.

Then I remembered he can’t talk.

His universal health care policy is based on a bar of soap.

His plan to fix the economy consists of creating a giant bathtub ring.

His understanding of global politics is limited to putting a rubber plug in the drain.

He was born in Canada.

You know…

Getting a pouch sewn onto their abdomen
to carry things.

At first I thought this odd.

And a bit disturbing.

Like a “man purse.”

Scary.

But just as a woman could now more
easily carry her daily accoutrements.

Like her lipstick and cellphone.

I could also more easily carry my
man accoutrements.

Like a 6-pack of beer.

Or my sawed off shotgun.

I found it very freeing to no
longer have to carry my sawed off shotgun

tucked down my pant leg where when
I walked stiff-legged into a bar

and a bunch of drunken sailors
would inevitably say:

“How’s it going there peg leg.”

Before they could properly
apologize to my sawed off shotgun.

Having a pouch immediately raised
my self- confidence.

I was able to simultaneously enter
a 12-step program

and start a national speaking tour
as a “life coach”

on how people could improve their
lives.

It seems like everyone I know

is also is getting into this “life
coaching” thing.

I would look at them and think.

Your life sucks.

What are you going to give advice
on how to have a life that sucks.

A better approach might be for
them to give advice along the lines:

“How to not turn out like me.”

Or take my own mundane and rather
unremarkable life.

Are the depressing details of how
I got to this unfortunate state

of any possible value to you?

Evidentially, and people are
willing to pay for it.

It’s always better to have some
stranger

who knows absolutely nothing about
you

tell you how to live your life

rather than take the time to just figure
it out yourself.

When I got back from my
pouch-inspired national tour

of improving people’s lives I was
exhausted.

They greeted me at my front door

with folded arms and frowns on
their faces.

What was it with these kangaroos?

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dirt meets the horizon

dirt meets the sky

you can see all the way to the sky

with nothing blocking your view

that is how vast and open

this land is that I call the infinite sky plain

when the crop comes in

it is low to the ground

and you can still see

all the way to the sky

there is a plain white butterfly

that dances among the green and red

as you look across the crop

you see them at regular intervals

it is like they have each

staked out their own territory

but in a polite way

they are plain white

and the crop is simply green and red

but the dirt with these 3 simple colors

is pretty in the heat

of the central valley sunset

I used to be afraid

of such huge and open spaces

it was like there was too much space

for my eye to see all at once

but the plain white butterflies

gave me something

upon which my eye could focus

and the vast emptiness

of the all the open space around me

went away

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1. Move North Pole to Cayman Islands to get tax break.
2. Outsource making of all toxic and poisonous toys to China.
3. Look into cost structure advantage of laying off all elves and just giving gift cards.
4. Shut down division making Menorah’s. Bad idea.
5. Hire more undocumented elves by lying to them about providing healthcare.
6. Complete venison cookbook. Get 3 more reindeer.
7. Consult naughty and nice list. “Friend” naughty women over 18 on Facebook.
8. Take down Christmas tree and lights before end of July August September.
9. Return Baby Jesus I took from that church manger scene when drunk.
10. Kill arch enemy the Easter Bunny.

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Just nobody I know.

Probably some of your friends.

You know, the ones who are always broke?

Some say to know a man you need to walk a mile in his shoes.

Again, sounds like your friends.

What stranger is going to let you walk a mile

in his shoes under the premise:

“I just wanted to get to know you.”

Some say the world will end in fire

Some say in ice.

Actually, that was Robert Frost.

Great American poet.

If you weren’t always rotting your mind on the internet,

you might know that.

I think he’s probably right.

But to be sure, I’d have to look it up on the internet.

You also might  have an attention span greater than 10 seconds.

What were we talking about?

Oh, yeah…where do things come from.

I looked out the window at the rain and watched it pour out of the raincloud.

Now where did that rain come from?

There was no telling while looking up at that raincloud.

Perhaps a whale’s blow hole I thought

as I watched the rain pour out of that raincloud.

I decided look it up on the internet.

Fortunately, our company is a software company

whose product is an internet search engine.

We have nearly 1% of the market.

When I tried to look up who had the other 99%

it crashed my computer.

I typed in: Where does rain come from?

Well, how do you like that a picture of a rubber duck in a bathtub.

Oh wait, it crashed again.

That’s my screen saver.

Suddenly, I wanted to know where babies came from.

I decided to perform this search using our search engine on my boss’s computer,

because I heard there was a dead body in his office.

When I got there I was flabbergasted.

A word I had always wanted to be.

He had the same rubber duck in a bathtub screen saver as me!

There was no dead body, but when I typed in the search

it took me to a page that you had to be 18 or older to view.

When I clicked on the page there was a video of a couple trying to have a baby.

They were trying awfully hard.

Actually, I’m not sure all the things they were doing would  result in a baby.

But it was the internet, so it had to be true.

The internet never lies.

This seemed like pretty top secrete stuff for my boss to be watching

as it was also bookmarked under his favorites,

so I decided to screen lock his computer,

but inadvertently ended up directing the video

through the projector on ceiling to the screen on his wall.

“Hmmmm.” I thought as I responsibly left his office.

A couple minutes later I heard the administrative assistant screaming.

Pretending to care I returned to his office to calm her.

Me: “That’s nothing. You should see his screen saver. It has a duck!”

in my boss’s face he just kept talking.

I sprayed can, after can, after can, and he just kept talking.

How rude I thought.

Then I noticed my boss was up at the front of the room talking at a podium.

I was in the 15^th row.

Who was this guy laying on the floor next to me curled up like a bug

who had used up all my pepper spray.

How rude I thought.

And how rude and insensitive of him to be curled up like a dead bug.

I shudder to think how many bugs died during WWII.

Just like I shudder when I’m cold and standing somewhere naked.

Like I was shuddering now.

I looked down and sure enough I was naked.

How rude I thought it was for dead bug pepper spray guy

to not bring this to my attention and give me his pants.

I later found out his name was CEO

confirming my suspicions that he was an alien from outer space.

strode by a man playing with his dog in the park.

“That’s a fine dog.”

“What’s his name?”

Other man: “I don’t know. He’s never told me.”

Man with baby: “What are you some kind of idiot.

He’s a dog.

He’s not going to tell you his name.

Man with dog: “You’re probably right.”

Man with dog.

“That’s a fine baby there.”

“What’s his name.”

Man with baby: “I don’t know. He’s never told me.”

“God you really are an idiot aren’t you?”

A thirsty crow dropped pebbles into a pitcher of water,

so that he might be able  to get a drink of water.

Man with dog: “Look a crow.”

Man with baby: “Look a picture of water with pebbles in it.”

Then the baby got on the dog and rode him over to the crow.

Baby: “Hey.”

Crow: “Hey.”

Crow: “I heard the entire conversation.”

Baby: “Do you have a gun?

Crow: “Yeah.”

Dog: “My name is Maurice.”

The next time you have an 800 lb
block of plutonium

that you want to move from coffee
table to the floor,

might I suggest you let gravity do
the work.

Why risk slowly bending over and
lowering

the Plutonium and risking a back
injury?

It just seems to me that we should
try to get

something useful out of gravity
for a change.

Perhaps just once it could help us

or indulge me…. actually do some
work.

Just push that block of plutonium
off the coffee table.

Now gravity will be forced to get
off  its lazy behind

and do some work guiding the 800
lb

block of Plutonium to the floor.

Right on top of your collection

of
grandmother’s heirloom china set.

What the hell is it with gravity?

Lazy, and then when it finally is forced to do some work

it does more damage than good.

It would have been easier if I had
just done the work myself.

And what’s with the attitude?

And why does gravity keep moving
back into the house

every couple of years?

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day I and my two best friends from
childhood got together for lunch.

Tommy and Jimmy.

Tommy started talking about his
career.

He was a brain surgeon.

Blah Blah Blah save lives.

Blah Blah Blah work of God.

Blah Blah Blah make a difference.

Man was Tommy arrogant.

Then it was Jimmy’s turn.

He was a rocket scientist.

Blah Blah Blah IQ of a genius.

Blah Blah Blah explore the
universe.

Blah Blah Blah improve life for
mankind.

When had Jimmy become an egomaniac?

Then it was my turn.

I manufacture and sell firearms.

I stood up.

And shot them.

I like to let my work speak for
itself.

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My boss said a trained monkey
could do my job.

Great now I have to compete
against educated monkeys.

I wonder what makes him think he
can treat a monkey

the way he treats me without the
monkey killing him?

Plus, I think there are laws
protecting monkeys

against such cruelty.

Maybe he should replace me with a
silverback gorilla.

Then the first time he said to the
gorilla “Let’s go open kimono.”

The gorilla could tear off his
genitals.

If the gorilla had a
well-developed sense of humor

he could then offer my boss a
banana.

I saw a baboon in a suit reading a
magazine sitting in the lobby.

Perhaps he was there to interview
for my job.

Wait until he finds out my boss
has no bananas

and no genitals to tear off.

Suddenly the job doesn’t seem so
glamorous does it?

My boss said a trained monkey
could do my job.

He must really hate monkeys.

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That sounds like something your brain thought up,

so that opinion might be biased.

Thinking is overrated.

In order to not have a biased opinion,

I came up with this conclusion without thinking.

Why involve the brain in areas that are none of its business.

Would you ask your foot if shoes are good.

Come on.

When I make such philosophical statements,

my friends wonder if I’m over-thinking things.

Me over-thinking things?

You are talking to me, right?

One thing that is better than thinking

is doing nothing.

There would be less acts of arson

committed if people did nothing.

Think about it.

Or don’t think about it.

Or do nothing.

They’re all good.

At least you’re not committing an act of arson.

I would look at their shoes.

Then you should ask yourself:

“Is it fair that those shoes should go before their time?”

Because it’s pretty unlikely that they are going to take the shoes

off of some dead guy and give it to some other guy.

Those shoes are probably just going to be thrown away.

Thrown away before their time.

And you have to ask yourself what have those shoes

ever done to you that you would do something like this to them?

So the next time you think about killing someone ask:

“What about the shoes?”

Of course, if the shoes are old and dirty and worn out… kill away.

Guy probably deserves to die anyway.

The kind you probably work for right now.

And my boss believe it or not, is an even smarter and more
powerful business manager than me.

For some reason I was having a problem

with the performance of some of my people.

So my super-smart, boss-mentor gave me some advice.

“Why don’t you try a stick and carrot approach.”

I told you he was brilliant, even smarter than me.

So I invited let’s call him “Ted”,

to my office to discuss his recent job performance.

Me: “Ted, I’d like to talk to you about your recent work.”

Ted: “Why are you calling me Ted?”

And then I hit him with a stick.

Ted: “Owww! What the…”

But before he could crawl back to his chair I clubbed

him with the carrot.

Ted: “I’m going unconscious.”

Me: “Are you properly motivated?”

Ted: “I’m the UPS delivery man.”

overweight chicken began to cross the road.

He wasn’t even in the crosswalk.

It’s almost as if he had a sense of entitlement.

Of …oh there’s a road.

No need to look both ways.

I’ll just cross it.

My parents were losers when it came to crossing the road.

They used to look both ways.

To me it’s a form of self-expression.

Part of the path of finding the real me as a chicken

Maybe it’s just their chicken generation.

I was really glad when the semi ran over him.

He sits in a bowl.

My roommate got a new cat.

That cat would poke and jab at my
goldfish.

And just be generally annoying.

So I bought him a fish tank.

And he blew a f*cking hole in that
cat.

Now that cat doesn’t annoy him
anymore.

And Goldy drives his tank around
the apartment on patrol all day.

I told him if my roommate gets another
cat

to blow a f*cking hole in him.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

The first thing you probably want to do here

is acknowledge that he is indeed talking.

Extend your hand with your thumb down

and the four fingers above it.

Now make a motion with your thumb and 4 fingers

like a duck quacking.

With a little imagination this gesture can also be used

to mimic a person talking.

Any time your boss opens his mouth you should

use this gesture to acknowledge he is talking.

As your boss talks,

while continuously making the hand talking gesture,

it’s good if you can make some comments or observations that
are factually accurate regarding the conversation to show that you are paying
attention.

An example:

“Your mouth is moving.”

Or better:

“Your mouth is certainly moving.”

A good follow up to this while continuing the talking duck
hand gesture is:

“Words.”

Or:

“Your mouth is moving and creating a lot of words.”

Or even better:

“Your mouth is certainly moving and creating a lot of
words.”

To prevent falling asleep,

you may have to keep pinching yourself

as this might be considered rude.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

I looked up while clasping my mother’s hand tightly

she looked down at me and smiled

it was a sad smile

but it looked pretty just the same with her red lipstick

a single tear was on her cheek

this scared me

we both knew that the world was coming to an end

she bent down in her high heels and heavy winter coat

and hugged me

and said something to try to comfort me

it is precisely at such a moment that you realize

just how alone you are in the universe

you can feel your soul crack from the loneliness

and the only thing that even gives you hope of surviving

is sharing that uncertainty with someone you love

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

If you have a lot of money women will be drawn to you.

Same thing if you have a lot of catnip.

If you don’t have a lot of money I suggest you grow a lot of
catnip.

Unless you don’t like cats.

Cats are drawn to catnip as well.

No one said life was easy.

Or a scapegoat.

Or an indecisive decision maker.

Or a forgetful professor.

Or a go-to-person.

I can never tell which.

That’s too many choices, so I usually just go
with the scapegoat.

Or no. The indecisive decision maker.

Or no. The chicken trainer.

Looks like I left him off the list.

Guess I shouldn’t have had the forgetful
professor put the list together.

He hates chickens.

He has what you would call an anti-chicken
bias.

He teaches at the Chicken University.

I still don’t know how he got tenure.

It’s like the disappointment you feel when
you lose at a game of paintball.

Because your paintball gun jammed.

Because you were using real bullets.

Sometimes it’s right there in front of you.

Like when I found God in Godzilla.

“Porn!!!”

It’s too bad that Abraham Lincoln’s hat can’t talk. I’m sure it would have a lot to say.

Like:”Look at me I’m a stovepipe hat and I’m up here, while you’re down there.”

Or: “What’s it like being way down there. Sure is great being way up here.”

Or possibly: “What’s the weather like down there shorty. Too bad you’re not up here where you could easily look down a woman’s top.”

Actually, Lincoln’s hat is a bit of a prick, so I guess it’s a good thing it can’t talk.

It’s too bad the Cat-In-The-Hat’s hat can’t talk.

It might say something like: “Look I’m even higher up here than Lincoln’s hat. I get a nosebleed just looking at you way down there.”

Or possibly: “I’m also colorful and bent to the side way up here. Are you standing in a hole down there?”

What’s the deal with these hats?

Why are they such assholes.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

One morning Fat Joe forgot to feed his cat.

He was given a warning.

Later that week he once again forgot to feed his cat.

“Bone crusher” sent a couple of his guys over and Fat Joe was never seen again.

From then on one of “Bone crusher’s” guys fed Fat Joe’s cat from seemingly endless supply of meat from the horizontal refrigerator in Fat Joe’s garage.

Another time a kitten, “Ginger”, was stuck up a tree and some of “Bone crusher’s” guys

called the fire department to get the kitten down.

When Fire Chief arrived he laughed and said that firemen only rescue cats

out of trees in cartoons.

“Bone crusher” didn’t laugh.

Although he was watching cartoons.

A cartoon about a fireman rescuing a cat from a tree.

The next morning the city burned to the ground.

A number of firefighters were forced to work overtime and did not get paid for it.

A couple of “Bone Crusher’s” guys showed up at the Fire Chief’s house and they explained about the horizontal freezer at Fat Joe’s garage. They asked if they could run an extension cord from the Fire Chief’s house across town to Fat Joe’s garage because it was an old non-energy efficient refrigerator and the electrical bill was excessive. When the Chief refused and they buried him upside down with his feet sticking

out of Ginger’s litter box.

I went to visit my cat in the cat prison.

I brought her some cat food

Not the dry cat food, but the wet cat food.

And not the generic store brand cat food,

but the one served in small cans with chicken gravy,

and not the regular chicken gravy,

but the chicken gravy with cheese.

And heavy on the gravy.

And you got the small cans, right?

Not the medium-sized cans?

On the medium cans they skimp on the gravy.

Unfortunately, I brought her the medium-sized cans.

 “Bone Crusher” found out.

He sent a couple of his guys over.

They told me to come by the “Bone Crusher’s” house the following day.

When I arrived at his house he couldn’t open a pickle jar, so I tapped it on the edge of the counter as I rotated it explaining that when pickles are delivered from the pickle factory that a variation in air pressure due to an attitude change, say for example if they were using the space shuttle to deliver the jar of pickles might cause lid stickage as a consequence of unequal pressure distribution.

Bone Crusher thanked me.

And then killed me.

So I bought my monkey a pair of chopsticks.

He
immediately put them in his mouth

like a pair of walrus tusks

and started doing his mummy walk

with his arms straight out

across the court room.

Was he
mocking me?!

I guess we’ll
never know.

After that
little stunt I signed him up for the Space Program.

Who doesn’t.

Well except maybe that guy the
kids call “Nature Boy”

and tease without mercy while
pinching him.

Are these your kids?

God, please make them stop.

Who doesn’t love nature?

What with all the rocks, and twigs,
and burrs, and porcupines

that get in your shoes.

Poisonous plants that give you
rashes on your privates

when you rub against them while
peeing.

Bugs that bite when you’re
peeing.

Snakes and bears that bite and
claw when you’re peeing.

Why must nature always wait to
attack when you’re peeing?!

Not to mention ticks.

Why would God make such a
creature?

Why in God’s name would God
create ticks?

And leaches?

What in God’s name was God thinking?

At least duckbilled platypuses
are funny.

Break to watch reality TV:

Man: I…I…I want to have a baby.

Woman sobbing: Oh, darling I’ve
waited so long to hear

you say that, let’s get started.

Man: Get away from me you
weirdo! I said I WANT to have a baby.

How do I get pregnant?

Back to real life:

As I lay dying from eating
poisonous

mushrooms in the emergency room

my life flashed before me

and I quickly batted it away.

How annoying.

Annoying especially, when I was
thinking

how next time when I ate all the
poisonous mushrooms

I would be sure to bring some
cheese.

And some wine might be nice.

And tick repellant.

And leach repellant.

Just like you, I don’t want
ticks and leaches

sucking blood from my dead body.

And keep your damn duckbilled
platypus

away from my dead body as well.

They’re notorious for carrying
ticks and leaches.

And not carrying cheese!

Errr. Mr. Pregnant Man.

So I try to smile a lot

Especially, when I’m killing people.

But some of these people can be so
rude.

It’s hard to maintain my smile.

What with all the screaming and
blood squirting.

I say: “Hey, can’t you see I’m
smiling!”

Some people are just so incredibly
rude.

Even when you’re killing them.

I don’t know why we tolerate this as
a society.

Yes.

Yes.

Well, those cheese slicers are a lot sharper than you would
think.

Shopping for wedding gifts under $100.

I prefer the word “frugal” to “cheap.”

Emergency?

Yes. Thanks for asking.

I was cutting some cheddar cheese.

Well, I know you’re not supposed to use a wedding gift
before you give it,

but if you wash it who knows?

Like I said, they are a lot sharper than you would think.

My thumb slipped.

Should I tie a tourniquet around my neck if I’ve cut off my
head?

OK. Approximately how many band aids?

And what’s the best way to get blood off of cheddar cheese.

Well, lots of blood.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

“Dance monkey dance.”

All the children cried.

And then the monkey tipped his
hat and held out his tin cup.

A child put a quarter in and the
monkey nodded thank you

and returned it to the organ
grinder.

“Dance monkey dance.”

The nuns sang in excited unison.

A nun put a quarter in the
monkey’s tin cup and the organ grinder smiled.

One nun tried to kick him in the
groin.

“Dance monkey dance.”

The President declared
assertively as addressing the nation.

He put a penny in the monkey’s
tin cup and asked for a receipt.

He also tried to kick him in the
groin.

“Dance monkey dance.”

I turned around and asked my
boss if I could take a 10 minute break.

The monkey shoes from my monkey
outfit he made me wear were killing me.

Boss in organ grinder outfit:  Sure. We’ve taken in 51 cents already today.
We are off to a good Monday.

As always he was right.

And he was sure to point this
out as always.

During my break I worked on my
Powerpoint slides.

They weren’t about anything in
particular.

Just like all our Powerpoint
slides.

Years later on my deathbed my
boss showed up

to let me know on that day he
had been “right.”

As always.

Fine by me.

And good for Dan.

Boobs are great.

Though I enjoy all parts of a
woman’s body.

Holy Jesus was I mistaken.

What Dave meant when he said
that Dan was a “Boobs man” was that Dan had boobs.

Man boobs.

And why is this always the case
with these guys?

When Dan got in the pool the
patches of dark hair on his shoulders and back made him look like a
Manatee with a bad electrolysis job or mange.

He subtly made his way (like a sinking aircraft carrier) up to a woman in the pool who had nice breasts as well as other woman body parts.

Dan: “Mine are bigger than
yours.”

Woman: “I beg your pardon?”

Dan: “And hairier.”

Woman: “It’s a shame that there’s
not a priest, or a rabbi, or perhaps a ship’s captain in
the pool right now, so we might get married.

Things typically go this way in
real life.

And a shame it was as the woman tried to help Dan with bad electrolysis job with repeated zapping from her stun gun.

Neptune’s spear.

I had a robot.

He was a toy of course

but I loved that robot.

God, how I loved that robot.

Until he killed all those kids.

And they blamed me.

Bastard.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

If I flew too close to the sun and melted my wax wings

I would just land on the sun and wait for someone

to ship me a pair of those new heat-resistant wings.

A glass of water might be nice.

I hope as my friend I could count on you for these things.

OK, probably not the wings.

I know how you are about doing anything that requires
effort.

It would be nice if the water were cold.

Or at least not lukewarm like bath tub water.

Or bath tub water for that matter.

Or at least the glass wasn’t a dirty one

That you took out of the dish washer.

Or at least you hadn’t already drank

out of the glass before giving it to me

all covered with your spit.

I count on you because you are my friend.

What’s this?

A box of crayons?

What am I supposed to do with a box a crayons.

Oh, good idea put them out on the sidewalk and watch them
melt.

You’re right.

Yes.

Maybe if I follow the sidewalk it will lead to an igloo.

You are my friend.

Now I’m back on Earth many years later.

Everyone I know is gone because time had stood still for me,

while I traveled through space and they aged,

lived their lives,

and died.

Except you.

You’re still here.

My friend.

Thank you God.

My friend is still alive!

My friend is still alive!

Hi.

What?

No, you can’t borrow my toothbrush.

It’s a good question.

And can’t be answered.

Some people consider such things a mystery.

I find it best to use approximations.

Person talking: “Is that dog big?”

Me: “Approximately.”

Nobody will argue with approximations

and yet approximations can often get us

in the ball park for discussions regarding size.

Other person talking: “Is the national debt big?”

Me: “How would I know? Why don’t you ask that big dog.

I’m sure he’d know, since he’s so big.”

Some people just have to ruin the whole size thing for
everyone.

Some guy: “Do you sell big condoms?”

Pet store clerk: “Well, I wouldn’t call them

so much “big” as “large.”

Guy: “OK. Do you sell large condoms?

Pet store clerk: “No. We sell turtles.”

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

First I showed my bar chart.

The data conclusively showed that I was much more likely

to go to a bar that was closer to work on the way home.

Then I showed my pie chart.

The data indicated that the majority of my time

was spent eating pie at the bar.

I also spent significant time eating pie at the circus.

Then I showed my elephant chart.

No one had ever seen an elephant chart.

It just showed a picture of an elephant sitting at a bar

eating pie at the circus.

He was wearing a hat.

Most found the data in the chart pretty compelling.

Although one elephant did get up and walk out.

There was also an 800 lb gorilla in the room.

He seemed to come to every meeting.

And just sat there saying nothing.

No one ever addressed the 800 lb gorilla in the room.

This time he raised his hand.

Me: “Yes?”

Gorilla: “I have a question about your pie chart.”

Me: “Yes?”

Gorilla: “Is that a banana cream pie?”

you never know when it’s raining.

Well, unless I guess of course all the storm drains empty

into the 15 mile tunnel from the surface of the earth that leads to your bunker.

Then you probably have a pretty good idea.

It was at this point that the real estate agent convinced me

to move in as I had been concerned about missing the rain.

Later, I discovered all the dog poop also washes down from the front lawn.

Eliminating your fear that your dog may run away.

I found this claim hard to believe.

So I set out to try on a number

of the aforementioned items.

The 1^st  one.

Perhaps a bit roomy, but I would have to agree

that it did indeed fit.

The 2^nd one.

This one reminded me of Red Riding Hood

finding Baby Bear’s bed.

It was “just right.”

The 3^rd one.

This one…

I was tackled behind by store security

and dragged away from the condom aisle.

Death: Define “angel.”

Me: Have you come for my soul?

Death: You’re breakfast cereal.

Well, you’re breakfast cereal and soul.

Me: Are we going to hell?

Death: With all this breakfast cereal?

Not without some milk.

Me: Are you the angel of death?

Death: OK. You drive a hard bargain.

Bring 2 spoons.

when the host flubbed the punch line to the monolog joke

and accidentally compared Satan to George W. Bush.

That was it!

He was tired of all this Devil bashing

and decided he needed to start with a makeover to the Gates of Hell,

which everyone was comparing to George W. Bush’s ranch.

First, he hired a public relations firm.

They said he needed to soften up the image a bit.

So, the 2 Hounds from Hell had to go.

And were to be replaced with guardians a little less
menacing.

Their market survey also indicated that things could be
further improved by putting Christmas presents in front of the Gate of Hell.

Everyone loves Christmas presents.

Well, except the people that hate Christmas presents!

And I hate these people!

God damn them straight to hell!

Well, maybe not.

Market data also showed that people

who hated Christmas presents didn’t go to hell,

which is probably something you want to think about

if you’re trying to get into Heaven.

But not being a thinking person or a person that cares about things

and having a cold can of Guinness in my refrigerator

this was not likely to be the case for me.

After the can(s) of cold Guinness anything was possible.

They also suggested a rainbow and a unicorn,

but there was no budget for it.

Anyway.

Here’s a shot of the ad that Satan ran on Travelocity.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Wouldn’t it be nice if we had the bathroom remodeled before Uncle Joe’s visit?

I thought.

Are you crazy?!

Do you want to clean the bathroom after Uncle Joe visits?

Do you want Uncle Joe befouling a new bathroom?

Let him use the old bathroom and then we can do the remodel.

We don’t even need to clean it then.

It’s kind of like just throwing away the entire bathroom after he uses it.

And that’s how the all of the members of our family

across the United States came to remodel their bathrooms.

The year that Uncle Joe visited everyone.

they would be best friends.

Lincoln: You’re my best friend and you’re made of wood.

Pinocchio: What’s with the hat?

Lincoln: I was raised in a cabin.

Pinocchio: What’s with the beard?

Lincoln: I taught myself to be a lawyer.

Pinocchio: I’m getting a restraining order.

Lincoln: I used to celebrate my birthday.

Now I celebrate President’s Day with my friend George.

Pinocchio: You’re scaring me.

Lincoln: I’m 6’4”and made of wood.

Pinocchio: Is it still assassination if it’s a mercy killing?

Did you know you’re made of wood?

Pinocchio: Filthy pervert.

Geppetto to Pinocchio:

If you lie your nose will grow.

Pinocchio: I want to talk to my lawyer.

Geppetto to Pinocchio:

Better hurry up or you’ll be late for school today.

Pinocchio: I’m capturing all of this on my web cam!

Geppetto to Pinocchio:

What would you do if you were a real boy

Pinocchio: Can a puppet be charged with murder?

when everything is green

Summer is a girl who plays in the sun

Autumn is a girl preparing for the harvest.

Winter is when Summer and Autumn

stay warm inside by the fire

Awaiting for the step of spring to return.

Likely eating cookie dough.

Actually, Winter is Summer’s and Autumn’s unmarried aunt.

She’s pushing 50 and is still not married.

She has let her eyes brows grow together into one eye brow.

You know a mono-brow

Like Frida Kahlo.

Because it’s artistic and cool.

And scary to guys.

It’s like when her same friends tell her to cut her hair really, really short

because that’s also artistic and cool.

Also, scary to guys.

Don’t try unless you’re already married and someone loves you

no matter how crazy a haircut you get.

For Christ’s sake I once had a mullet!

The artistic and cool just scares the guys,

unless maybe you’re in your mid-twenties and naked.

Then you can probably shave your head and eyebrows and still get dates.

If your naked and bald and a woman in your twenties,

I would still stay away from that mono-brow thing.

Still pretty scary.

Even if you’re going for that sexy, naked, space, alien, monster look.

But your friends may like it.

And tell you how great it looks.

I think women’s fashion mostly works by women

trying to sabotage the attractiveness of other women.

Their competition.

They might try actually asking a man about a fashion look rather than other women.

If I were trying something different I would ask a women.

I could ask one of my guy friends.

I don’t think he would try to sabotage me.

I just think if I said something like:

“How do you like the way these pants accentuate my behind.”

He would probably just kick my ass.

This is as it should be.

In the end they say that love conquers all.

I think nakedness probably conquers all.

Well, if you really want to go out there

and do some serious conquering.

Go forth and conquer sexy, naked, space, alien, monster chick.

to former child television stars and if there is any commonality

in their lives post-television fame.

So, I did the research and here are the results.

“The Beaver” killed while trying to kill President.

“Marcia Brady” killed while trying to kill President.

“Gilligan” killed while trying to kill President.

“Seinfeld” killed while trying to kill President.

“Fred Flintstone” killed while trying to kill President.

So no discernable commonality

in their lives post-television fame.

Other than I think they all were Republicans.

women in the final of World Cup Soccer.

All I can say is thank God it wasn’t Women’s Beach Volleyball.

Our national past time.

The heartbreak would have been too great to bare.

I’m probably a bit deaf from listening to too much loud music growing up,

so when I heard the announcement on TV I thought they said.

“American women defeated! Are not World C*ck S*cker champs.”

Thank God I thought.

I’m not sure that is a national title to brag about.

But everyone in the bar seemed quite sad.

A few women actually cried.

I had no idea that we took so much pride in this as a nation.

Especially, some women who want us to be regarded as the best in the world.

I got their phone numbers.

Bad Easter Bunny drinks out of the
milk cartoon and then puts it back in the fridge.

Well, puts in back in the fridge
after he pees in it.

Bad Easter Bunny forgets to wear
his pants to church.

Not just on Easter Sunday, but
every Sunday.

His excuse is: “Hey, the sun got
in my eyes.”

Bad Easter Bunny yells “fire” in a
crowded theatre.

As people get trampled around him
he says:

Bet you wish I was wearing pants?

Too bad you’re not smoking a
cigarette like me.

Bad Easter Bunny pushes the button
that launches all missiles to destroy the world.

Now he’s selling short carrot
futures on the stock market

to cash in on the destruction of
the world.

At the last moment Superman flies
in from Mars

and grabs all the missiles before
they explode saving mankind.

Bad Easter Bunny: Nice job
Superman. Here, have some milk.

Superman: Thanks. Just doing my…

What the…this tastes like
piss!

The Day The Earth Stood Still

The day the Earth stood still Dan
stayed in bed.

Finally, he got up to pee.

Because the Earth was standing
still when he started to take his pee

he lost his balance and fell over.

Superman came down the chimney and
took a drink from the milk cartoon.

“What the hell Dan…this tastes
like piss.”

That’s when Superman noticed
draped over the chair was Dan’s

Bad Easter Bunny outfit.

Dan: Bet you wish I was wearing
pants?

of a top Pentagon official in each chair there was a mango.

Fortunately, these were senior mangoes, so after the debriefing

rather than overreacting emotionally they sat there quietly

contemplating the what to do next.

They sat there a long time.

Finally, a guy with one of those slicer-dicers

you see advertised on TV came in and made them all into a fruit salad.

A guy with a fruit cart came in and put an apple in a chair

followed by and orange in the next chair.

He continued this pattern all the way around the table.

A rigorous debate on what to do was held in silence.

The President walked in and wanted to hear a comparison of the options.

President: This won’t do at all it’s an apples to oranges comparison.

The guy with the slicer-dicer came back in and helped avert World War III.

The following day there was no longer a Yugoslavia.

Some called it a “compromise.”

Most didn’t notice.

‘cept for me and my baby.

Well, my baby’s only 4 month old

And he’s in this stroller

And he doesn’t know how to talk yet.

Otherwise, we would probably be talkin’ bout flesh eating bacteria.

For example:

Me: What do you think about flesh eating bacteria?

Baby: Ga.

Me: Don’t you hate it when you put the hotdogs in a plastic bag in the ice chest for a picnic and they work their way to the bottom of the ice chest somehow and the buns get all soggy?

Baby: Ga.

Me: Who are you calling a pinecone?!!

Baby: Ga

Baby: necrotizing fasciitis…

Me: Oh, how cute. baby talk.

Dog poop signs.

I like this guy. He wants to catch it before it even hits the
ground.

It’s this can do attitude that once made America great.

And put a man on the moon.

It’s sad that so few people in American today are willing to
catch their dog’s poop before it hits the ground.

These signs need to be way more graphic.

Way, way more graphic.

Clean up what?

Crime in our inner cities?

Your use of profanity in the eulogy you just gave?

I’m afraid there is just not enough detail with these signs.

And why is that dog looking over his shoulder?

Is he looking for the guy from the last sign to catch his
poop

before it hits the ground?

On the other hand, let’s look at the sign:

“A Good Neighbor Cleans Up.”

Let’s say Sean Penn is your neighbor and he has just
returned

from the Academy Awards having won an Oscar for best actor.

God bless you Sean Penn.

In his excitement he puts up one of these signs on his front
lawn.

Now’s who’s a good neighbor?

The neighbor that occasionally let’s his dog poop on your
lawn

or the neighbor that puts up a sign with a dog taking a sh*t
that is up 24×7.

It’s the first thing I see before dinner every night when I
get home.

Thank you Sean Penn good neighbor.

Man this dog sure get around.

And evidentially poops everywhere he goes.

A good neighbor might want to check his diet.

Yes, Sean Penn your dog.

At first I thought this sign was amusing until I realized
they had stolen the logo of the new company I had founded. The “Hunch Back Dog
Chew Toy Company.”

Damn you Sean Penn.

There’s something wrong about these 2 pictures even being

on same sign.

Curse you Sean Penn.

Don’t play fetch the tennis ball with this dog.

Those tennis ball are hard to digest.

Imagine you are the artist that did all these signs and your
go down to the movie studio to impress them with your portfolio

and you show them all these images of a dog squatting.

Francis Ford Coppola: This is great! Would you be willing to
work with Sean Penn?

Oh, look there’s Sean Penn.

Hey, Sean.

Why yes, that is a good impersonation of my “Hunch Back Dog
Chew Toy Company” logo.

No Sean.

Bad Sean.

Not on my lawn

Not in my backyard!

No.

No Sean.

No, I don’t have any lemonade.

For more dog poop sign fun check out: www.dogpoopsigns.com

Well, 12 feet tall and made of solid gold.

But I suppose being 12 feet tall would be enough for now.

That way when I sat down in the men’s room stall

 I could look over the metal wall divider.

“Hey.”

“How’s it going there?”

“Got any gum?”

Oh my God, that guy didn’t wash his hands.

“Hey, everybody that guy didn’t wash his hands!”

“Stop him! Stop him!”

“We’re all going to die!”

“Hey.”

“How’s it going there?”

“Do you like my hat?”

“Hey.”

“Buddy there’s no toilette paper in this stall and there is in the next stall.”

“Mind if I ask you a favor?”

“Can I borrow your pants?”

Hmmm. That guy didn’t wash his hands either.

“Hey.”

“I said hey!”

“I see you looking in the mirror trying not to make eye contact.”

“Hello officer.”

“Got any gum?”

Which I think is enlightened-womanspeak for she didn’t wear
panties.

I’m as open as the next guy to these different political
views with my reptile brain.

I voted for Obama.

Then she took me to a foreign film.

No an indie film.

No a foreign, indie film.

It was so confusing.

No panties tried to explain to me what was going on over my
snoring.

The good thing about such movies is they often end with a
final shot that says:

“The End”

This is good.

It’s a good way to let you know the movie is over.

And let you know that there isn’t some more movie that they want
you to see.

No panties said the best thing about such movies was that
they made us think.

Also, that they made us reflect upon something, something
our lives.

Also, something, something, something cats from outer space.

I nodded as much as I could without making my head snap off.

Later no panties told me she was a Yogini.

I thought this was great as it sounded like something edible,

but it just meant she was a female master practitioner of
Yoga.

Well, one without panties, so I guess that’s something.

Plus, I’m all for “bendy” women.

Being modern and enlightened was a lot of work.

Also, required something, something a lot of thinking about
nothing.

Also, something, something, something cats from outer space.

Also, isn’t being pretentious not supposed to be boring?

Joe Dimaggio: I’ve been here all along waiting for the return of Crazy Eye.

Where the hell have you been I thought you were springing for lunch?!

Crazy Eye Made Me Do It

I love this symbol on medicine.

“May make you drowsy.”

With crazy eye.

It looks like it may make you a lot more than drowsy.

It provides the perfect excuse for all my aberrant behavior.

I had a prescription filled quite some time ago

and it came in a bottle with “crazy eye.”

Now I carry it around filled with Tick Tacks in my pocket

and when I do something inappropriate,

I pull out my medicine and say:

“Sorry, crazy eye made me do it.”

No one’s going to argue with this,

because of its medical legitimacy.

No matter what I do.

The other day I showed up at a meeting

with a turtle duct taped to my head.

I pretended to be a combat soldier.

When some guy took away the baby raccoon

I was holding I just said:

“Sorry, crazy eye made me do it.”

This asshole was holding up a bank with a water balloon.

I walked up to him and popped the balloon.

He started to cry.

Everyone in the bank gave me a dirty look.

(I think they were also giving a dirty look to my baby raccoon.)

Unforgivable!

This time I got up on the bank counter

and started pounding my chest like Tarzan.

Me:”Crazzzzzzzzzzzy Eyyyyyyyyyyye!!!!”

Then I pulled out my bottle with my medicine.

I felt a lot better.

Now I’m standing on the counter at the ice cream shop

ordering 31 scoops of the 31 flavors for my cone.

Again, I start pounding on my chest like Tarzan.

Now I’m putting on a pair of pants.

Actually, a cop is making me put on a pair of pants.

Me:”Crazzzzzzzzzzzy Eyyyyyyyyyyye!!!!”

Ah, more medicine.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

Like everyone else on the planet I pretty much live for
women’s beach volleyball.

I was on the treadmill at the club when I looked up at the
match on TV

and noticed that the bikinis they wear had become an order
of magnitude skimpier.

They had the player’s name across the skimpy butt portion of
their bikini,

so the camera pretty much just went from one players butt to
the next.

This way you would be sure know the player’s names.

It was the respectful thing to do.

It seemed impossible, but a perfect sport had become
perfecter.

I could sense God smiling as his God eyes bulged out

of his God skull and he went to take a cold God shower.

It’s this can
do attitude that once made America great.

And put a man
on the moon.

Then it stuck me.

The surface of the moon would actually provide

an excellent playing surface for women’s beach volleyball.

Women’s beach volleyball on the moon.

With 1/6^th the Earth’s gravity.

Like God waving his magic wand

as he stepped out of the shower

it was possible for the sport to become still perfecter.

Suddenly, the nation united behind a common goal.

It was something important like World War 2.

Women’s beach volleyball on the moon.

Bipartisan bickering in politics ceased.

We balanced the budget without spending cuts or tax
increases.

We simply printed more money.

The world rallied behind America’s vision and leadership.

Big screen television sells exploded

God bought 2 big screen televisions.

One for his living room.

One for his bathroom.

The Dali Lama moved his refrigerator into his living room

to be closer to his big screen television.

America was back on the map.

And popular again as the world for gave us for our
unilateral missteps.

Like not adopting the metric system.

Let’s run it up the flagpole and see who salutes.

One nation under God.

I pledge allegiance

to women’s beach volleyball.

As so many great civilizations before us,

we would be remembered for our contribution to mankind.

All because of women’s beach volleyball.

Neil Armstrong watching women’s beach volleyball on the
moon:

I wish I had a bigger pair of eyes.

Women’s beach volleyball.

Hallowed be thy name.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE

I reached for a mango in the produce section

and a cobra shot out from behind the baby carrots

and bit me on the forearm.

Great I thought.

If I buy any baby carrots

I’m going to have to wash them to get the snake germs off of them.

Fortunately, I had my new snake bite kit on me,

so I proceeded to dress my wound carefully following the instructions.

“Tie provided tourniquet to limit further blood flow throughout body.

“Douse cotton generously with alcohol provided to cleanse bite of any potential snake germs to avoid later infection.”

“To remove poison from body, gently but firmly insert into puncture wounds and light provided sticks of dynamite.”

Great I thought.

All the poison has been removed.

Now I’m in Heaven.

Well, how do you like that?

Looking around all the angels are snakes.

It looks like I went to Snake Heaven.

Here comes Snake God.

“Ok.”

“Sure.”

Now Snake God is taking away my snake bite kit.

Great.

What a day this is turning out to be.

I paid $5 for that kit.