British One-Liners

Do UK websites….
….Use biscuits instead of cookies?

Dear Naps….
….I’m sorry I was a jerk to you as a kid.

I used to cough to hide my farts….
….Now I fart to hide my coughs.

Becoming a vegetarian….
….Was a big missed steak.

Cremation is my last chance….
….For a smoking, hot body.

87% of gym members….
….Don’t know it’s closed.

There are three things that never lie….
….Children, drunks, and yoga pants.

I wish I was as thin….
….As my patience.

My school bully still takes my lunch money….
….On the upside, he makes great fries.

I’m in a band called Dyslexia….
….We just released our Greatest Shit album.

I have a step-ladder….
….I never knew my real ladder.

Boeing has invented an invisible airplane….
….I don’t see that taking off.

Bigfoot is sometimes confused with Sasquatch….
….Yeti never complains.

My wife told me to put ketchup on the shopping list….
….Now we can’t read the list.

I don’t worry about being driven to drink….
….I worry about being driven home

Can those attending tonight’s Kinky Sex Anonymous meeting….
….Please use the rear entrance?

I asked 100 women what shampoo they preferred….
….Almost all of them asked, “How the Hell did you get in here?”

I went to a rave for blind people….
….And danced like no-one was watching.

I was never a very photogenic person….
….When everyone else said ‘Cheese,’ I said ‘Where?’

No matter how low I set the bar….
….Some people roll right under it.

The only substitute for good manners….
….Is fast reflexes.

I applied for a job as a waiter….
….I have a lot to bring to the table.

I put a wooden desk and a blackboard in my den….
….I think it makes the place look classy.

If glassblowers inhale….
….Do they get a pane in the stomach?

Some people are so narrow-minded….
….That their ears rub together.

Don’t challenge Death to a pillow fight….
….Unless you’re ready for the Reaper cushions.

***

Milestone:  This is my 1500th published post.

Flash Fiction #274

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

ROSE COLORED GLASS

Anxiety and dissention are the unfortunate results of the Internet Age.  It was once comfortable to believe that we were all basically the same.

Rose-colored glasses are passé.  We now must view our world through kaleidoscope specs.  Freedom of information also means freedom of misinformation.  Every bright and shiny, sharp-edged sect demands its own recognition.

Tea Party and Trumpers separate from Republicans and Democrats.  Anti-vaxxers abound.  Flat Earth is a growth industry.  There are still Christian mega-churches, but more and more, worshippers are doing what they did two millennia ago – gather in groups of 10 or 15 in private homes.

***

If you’d like to join the fun, go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Nothing To Say About Christianity

I don’t have NOTHING to say about Christianity, but it often seems that the less said about religions, the better.

New shooter comin’ out.  I bet a more interesting topic will be available on Friday.

Scottish Humor

The Irish think that they’ve got it all sewed up with St. Patrick’s Day.  Here are some Robbie Burns Day, Scottish jokes.  Not too many, mind.  We’re very frugal with them, too.

***

Callum decided to call his father-in-law the “Exorcist” because every time he came to visit he made the spirits disappear.

***

“How’s the flat you’re living in, in London, Jock?” asks his mother when he calls home to Aberdeen.

“It’s okay,” he replies, “but the woman next door keeps screaming and crying all night and the guy on the other side keeps banging his head on the wall.”

“Never you mind,” says his mother, “don’t you let them get to you, just ignore them.”

“Aye, that I do,” he says, “I just keep playing my bagpipes.”

***

Have you heard about the lecherous Scotsman who lured a girl up to his attic to see his etchings? …. He sold her four of them.

***

Winters can be extremely cold in northern Scotland, so the owner of the estate felt he was doing a good deed when he bought earmuffs for his farm worker, Archie.

Noticing, however, that Archie wasn’t wearing the earmuffs even on the coldest day, the owner asked, ‘Didn’t you like the earmuffs I gave you?’ Archie replied, not wishing to upset his employer, ‘Och, they are a wondrous thing.’

‘Then why don’t you wear them then?’

Archie explained, ‘I was wearing them the first day, but somebody offered to buy me a drink and I did not hear him.’

***

Jock walks into a bar one day and stammers, ‘Does anyone here own that South Doberman Pinschers outside?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ a tattooed biker says, standing up. ‘What about it?’

“Well, I think my little Scotty terrier just killed him.’

‘What are you talkin’ about?’ the biker says, disbelievingly. ‘How could your little runt kill my Doberman?’

‘Well,’ mumbled Jock, ‘it appears that he got stuck in your dog’s throat.’

***

After last night’s game between England and Scotland, 10,000 beer cans were left in Trafalgar Square by Scottish football fans. Both of them have been arrested.

***

How many Scotsmen does it take to change a light bulb?
Och! It’s no that dark!

***

Alisdair Biggar, a Scotsman, applied to join the New York City police force.

The inspector glared at him and asked, ‘How would you disperse a large, unruly crowd?’

‘Well,’ replied Alisdair thoughtfully, ‘I’m no too sure how ye do it here in New York, but in Aberdeen we just pass the hat around, and they soon begin to shuffle off.’

***

A Scots boy came home from school and told his mother he had been given a part in the school play.

“Wonderful,” says the mother. “What part is it?”

The boy says, “I play the part of the Scottish husband!”

The mother scowls and says, “Go back and tell your teacher you want a speaking part.

***

Hamish McHarg, a Scottish minister, was making his rounds to parish homes to receive their tithes and offerings.

One of his parishioners gave, but had a distinctly stingy attitude when parting with his money without receiving something in return.

As he put the gift away, Hamish commented dryly, ‘Tha Good Book says tha Lord loves a cheerful giver, but the Church o’ Scotland canna be so choosy.’

***

At an auction in Glasgow a wealthy American announced that he had lost his wallet containing £10,000 and would give a reward of £100 to the person who found it.

From the back of the hall a Scottish voice shouted, “I’ll give £150!”

***

A Scotsman was out shopping on a busy Saturday and he had a set of bagpipes in the back of his car. It was so crowded he had to park three blocks from the store where he was going. As he got to the store, he suddenly realized he had not locked the back door of his sedan. He raced back to where he had parked. But it was too late. There were now two sets of bagpipes on the rear seat.

’21 A To Z Challenge – U

 

 

I want to believe as many true things, and as few false things, as I can.
I want my internal, mental world-view to match observed reality as closely as possible.

The wife claims that, in the last 5 or 10 years, I have become intolerant and nasty toward religion and Christianity.

I think that it’s just that I’ve been more and more exposed to people who believe – and want me to believe – religious positions based on observably false claims, and I’m just getting more chances to express my discontent.

The wife’s Catholic Father died of cancer when she was 13.  He was sick for 5 years.  His teen-aged children cared for him for a year, but he was moved to the Catholic hospital, and given palliative care for 3 years.  Hospices did not exist back then, and hospitals finally realized that they could not afford to take up space with someone who would not recover.  He was discharged, to die at home.

At the end of the fifth year, he was terminal.  Four times, the local Catholic priest had to put on his cassock, and come over in the middle of the night, to give him last rites.  The first time, he rallied.  Two weeks later, the priest was back with another serving of last rites.  Again, he rallied.  Two weeks later, the tired priest made a third late-night house-call.  Once more, he rallied, but the end was inevitable.

The wife told me that, on his final visit, the priest gave her Father, not the last rites, but

EXTRA MUNCTION

I had been exposed in my youth to Baptist, Presbyterian, United, Pentecostal and Anglican, but not much Catholic.  I knew that The Church had all kinds of rites and rituals, and amulets, and potions, and spells, but I’d never heard of MUNCTION.  I asked, “What the Hell is munction?  Why did he need any, much less, extra??  Is it some kind of herbal remedy, or an opiate to ease his suffering??”

“I don’t know, but he must have needed it, because the priest gave him some extra.”   😯

Years later, I was reading a book about a Catholic who was dying, and the priest attended him, to give him

Extreme UNCTION

noun Roman Catholic Church.
anointing of the sick.
From: unction
an act of anointing, especially as a medical treatment or religious rite.
an unguent or ointment; salve.
something soothing or comforting.

I can’t fault the wife.  Shortly after that, she left the Church because she asked questions that they wouldn’t/couldn’t answer, so she didn’t get the complete indoctrination into the arcane, magical, mystical, mythical, mumbo-jumbo.  I have talked to other people who have been Catholics all their lives, but are no better informed about the Church’s tenets and ceremonies.  From the wife’s aggressive defense, even half a century later, I don’t think that she’s shed all the propaganda, but has obvious discomfort at my criticisms and doubts.

I am strangely reminded of the ‘60s British comedy movie, Carry On Doctor, which revolves around a hospital ward, with 8 stereotypical English males.  One is the brash, loud-mouthed know-it-all, who irritates fellow patients and staff alike.  Finally, a long-suffering nurse tells him to roll on his stomach, and get up on his knees.  She is going to take his temperature rectally.

He hoists his butt into the air, and something slender, round and cool is inserted.  Almost immediately, The Matron enters the ward, and demands to know from him, why his jiggly bits are hanging out in the breeze.  He says, “Have you never seen a man having his temperature taken?”  She replies, “Yes.  Many times.  But never with a daffodil!”   😯  😳  Just go along with it, because someone who claims to have authority, tells you to do something ultimately meaningless, no matter how foolish you look in the end.

It is difficult to take Christian Apologists, and their claims and arguments, seriously, when it appears obvious that there is something going on behind their…. back, and they have no idea that it’s happening, or what it is.

Fibbing Friday Ate

Pensitivity101 has found that restraining orders do not work on me.  I was released on bail after my last assault on truth, into the custody of WordPress, and immediately stole another list of prompts to satisfy my perverted desires with.  The Language Police have been alerted, and they’ve dispatched a tactical team.  Until they get here, here’s a little something to amuse and entertain you.

1. What is usually shaken and not stirred?
   Me, when I’m trying to have my afternoon nap.
   The dogs are in the back yard, barking at the neighbor.
   Fine! Tell them to stop.
2. Who was Dr. No?
   My doctor, after she learned my true weight. 😯
   No sugar!
   No carbs!
   No snacks!
   No beer!
   No shit??! And No reason to go on living.
3. What is a Thunderball?
   It is the eventual, inevitable, gastronomic result of a big meal of beef and bean burritos. A YOLO Yahoo, with loose track pants, a Bic lighter, and no shame, can turn one into a Lightning Strike.
4. Who sang ‘For Your Eyes Only?’
   It was a duet, by Ray Charles and (Little) Stevie Wonder. 😎
5. What does ‘M’ stand for?
   It’s the Roman numeral for 1000
   If I’ve told you once, Double-O Seven, I’ve told you a thousand times, the Secret Service Medical Division is going bankrupt, curing these “Tropical Diseases” that you keep picking up. Only take your Walther PPK, not your Little Walter, out of your pants.
6. What snack did ‘Q’ almost lose when showing off one of his latest gadgets?
   A bowl of kimchee with a haggis smoothie.
7. What was sent from Russia with Love?
   Trump’s third (Or was it fourth??) Stepford wife, Malignant Melanoma Maleficent Malign Ya Melania.
8. What scares the living daylights out of you?
   Politicians!! The best candidate for any position is the one who needs to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into office. I’m not exactly full of sunlight – or unicorn rainbows – to have it forced out of me.  In response to most politicians, it’s often a darker substance, exiting a lower orifice.

We used to be able to tell when Politicians lied to us – their lips moved.  Things have changed.  Now, they talk more, and say less.  Recently, Ted Cruz marathoned a 23-hour filibuster.  I didn’t see the text.  I’m told that it was a Seinfeld speech – all about nothing.  It might have been a monolog about how fortunate, happy, and proud he was to have been born in Canada, to a Mexican mariachi-player father.

9. What does a Moonraker do?
   It smoothed out the biggest (so far) sand trap in the Solar system, 50 years ago, after Alan Shepard hit some golf balls during the Apollo 14 NASA Lunar mission.
10. What is You Only Live Twice about?
    It’s the book my wife wrote about my aggressive driving habits. “Getting There” is not half the fun, to me. Time spent on the road, is time wasted.  I’ll be out on the highway, in the fast lane, passing big-rigs like they’re pulling in for a piss-break.  Suddenly, in the center turn-around lane, I’ll spot a County-Mountie – Kojak with a Kodak – a State-trooper with a radar gun.

Quickly I slow to almost the legal limit – and hope.  Will he??….  Is he??….  Did he?
NO!!!  He didn’t pull out.

That’s when I live twice.  I experience the reality first, and then I have that segment flash before my eyes a second time.

The truth is, I’m getting pretty good with these lists – if I do say so myself.  In a couple of days I’ll post something that doesn’t need to be strained through a lie-detector.  😀

Book Review #26

I don’t read anything, just to tick off boxes on someone else’s Challenge list.  I have however, recently read two candidates for ‘A Book Published Before You Were Born.’  I reread the micro-short story, The Cask of Amontillado, by Edgar Allen Poe.  When I downloaded it from the Internet, a note appeared below, saying, People who researched this, were also interested in…. and showing several other old titles, including Herman Melville’s, Bartleby the Scrivener.  I’ve never read it, and free is my favorite flavor.

Published 1853

Back in the ’60s, Ajax Cleanser had a series of TV ads where they claimed that their product was Stronger than dirt.  Since I am Older Than Dirt, it’s a struggle to find interesting books that old.

The book: Bartleby the Scrivener

The author: Herman Melville

The review:
The entire book is an un-named narrator, relating the tale of the strange actions and attitudes of a clerk that he employed.  The titled Bartleby was hired by a lawyer as a scrivener, a man who produced handwritten copies of deeds, and wills, and other legal documents, in the age before typewriters, Xerox machines, or computers.

Bartleby drove his employer to distraction.  He produced mountains of perfect copies, but quietly refused to perform any other menial task, such as proof-reading other clerks’ work, or going to the Post Office, with statements like, ”At present I might opt for not to be a bit reasonable.”

Despite it being locked up at close of work hours, the lawyer discovered that Bartleby somehow was living in the offices.  Eventually, he refused to do any work, yet continued to firmly but politely, decline to leave the premises.

While the book is 170 years old, I can’t believe that people of the time spoke, or wrote, like this.  It must have just been the author’s idiosyncratic technique.  The entire book reads like one of those machine-translated spam comments you receive.  Scores of words with two or more definitions were used with the wrong meaning in the context of the passage.

After a few phrases touching on his qualifications, I engaged him, satisfied to have among my corps of copyists a person of so singularly sedate an issue, which I notion might perform beneficially upon the flighty temper of Turkey, and the fiery certainly one of Nippers.

Turkey and Nippers were the nicknames of two of the narrator’s other law clerks.  A third was Ginger Nut, because his desk drawer was often full of shells of various nuts, which he irritated the office by cracking and eating while at work.

The fiery Nippers, among other strange actions, had been known to grasp up a ruler, point it at the cease of the room, (taken to mean ‘the far end’) and shout, “Fee the foe!”,  an expression that neither Bing, nor Google, nor Dictionary.com are aware of.  After some thought, I came to assume that the first word should be fie??  An expression of mild disgust or annoyance.

His fourth copyist, is rendered as ¼.  The third key to his private apartment, is described as .33.  It’s a one-trick-pony, or a one-joke-book.  It never sold widely.  It was mildly amusing for what it was, but not terribly deep, or socially significant, and always slightly confusing.  Ah well, it was an adventure.  Despite being as old as it is, it ticked off a box in another blogger’s Challenge.  When was the last time you tried something new?  😕

Great Comedy – No Lie

The school called today to tell me that my son has been telling lies.
I told them to congratulate him on how well he tells them.  I don’t have a son.

***

Dear Lord, all I want is a chance to prove that winning the lottery won’t make me a bad person.

***

“While walking along the edge of a pond just outside my house in Florida, discussing a property settlement with my soon-to-be ex-wife, and other divorce issues, we were surprised by a huge 12-ft alligator which suddenly emerged from the murky water.    It began charging us with its large jaws wide open.   She must have been protecting her nest because she was extremely aggressive.

“If I had not had my little Ruger .22 caliber pistol with me, I would not be here today.  Just one shot to my estranged wife’s knee cap was all it took.  The alligator got her easily, and I was able to escape by just walking away at a brisk pace.  The amount I saved in lawyer’s fees was truly incredible and her life insurance was also a big bonus.”

***

The new vicar at a city centre church was delighted when he received a large anonymous cash gift. When he told the church council about it, he proposed it should be used to buy a new chandelier for the body of the church.

However, it was put to a vote and the vicar was disappointed when his proposal was narrowly defeated. The vicar noted that the church council secretary had voted against the proposal and when the meeting was over, he asked the secretary why he had not supported it.

The secretary said he had three reasons: “First, I have to write the minutes of the meeting and I can’t spell the word; second, there is sure to be an argument over who should play it; and finally, if we are going to spend money in the Church what we really need is some good lighting.”

***

The cashier at Wal-Mart said, “Strip down in front of me.” so I did as she told me.
When the hysteria died down, I found that she was instructing me on how to use the credit card reader.

***

My High School was so poor, that they taught sex education and driver’s-ed in the same car.

***

I tried to donate blood today.  Never again!  Too damned many questions!
Whose blood is it?  Where did you get it?  Why is it in a bucket??

***

A police officer pulled over a driver and informed him that, because he was wearing a seatbelt, he had won $1000 in a safety contest.  “What are you going to do with the prize money?” the officer asked.  The man responded, “Well, I guess I’ll go to driving school and get my driver’s licence.”  At that point, the man’s wife chimed in, “Officer, don’t listen to him.  He’s a smart-ass when he’s drunk.”

This woke up the guy in the back seat who, when he saw the cop, blurted, “I told you we wouldn’t get very far in this stolen car.”  Just then there was a knocking from the trunk, and a voice asked, “Are we across the border yet?”

Flash Fiction #273

PHOTO PROMPT © Bradley Harris

BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL

The joys of being middle management.
The big bosses shit on you – and Labor rubs it in.
On a clear day, you can see – this job stretching into infinity.

In 9 To 5, Dolly Parton thought she deserved a fat promotion.
My boss said, “Promotion??!  You’re lucky I pay you a salary.  If I’d wanted a Vice-President, I’d have hired a Vice-President – my son.  Now get back to expediting shipments”

Four years to retirement.
Three more years to retirement, then I’m going to take my well-earned pension and savings, and move to Aruba.

I’ll have a Caribbean rum punch, please.

***

To join the fun and become a Friday Fictioneer, go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

You Thought You Had A Shitty Job

According to Mental Floss, in the Victorian Era, ratteners would capture and sell rats to pubs where they were eaten by dogs and played with for entertainment.
Rats, I can’t believe I missed that “premium” entertainment!

The job disappeared when the internet made porn more universally available.  The word shrank down to ratter, and that task was taken by farm-cats, and digger-dogs like my two Scottish Terriers.

People in Medieval times were often given surnames based on their occupation.  The job, and the name, goes back far beyond the Victorian Era.  In both English and German, the spelling first became Rattner, then diminished to Ratner, like Brett Ratner, a Hollywood director, recently mired in a #MeToo and Time’s Up scandal.

Eventually some versions reduced to Radner, and to Radnor.  There is a Radnorshire in Wales.  This time the egg came before the chicken.  It was founded by a couple of English families who moved there to escape their cruel town and despicable occupation, to become farmers.

At the steel warehouse where I worked – long ago – the floor in the fabrication section was poured concrete, but in the actual metal storage area, it was flattened dirt, covered by pea gravel.  On one side, bundles of steel sheets formed stacks eight and nine feet high.

Rats got in, and would burrow under these stacks, occasionally causing one to collapse and tip over into its neighbor.  Righting one of these piles was a slow, somewhat dangerous task, often with product loss.

Nearby was a worker, a recent immigrant from Germany.  His job was to take bundles of 20 foot steel angles or flat bars, and use a large, gravity-fed, horizontal band-saw to cut them to smaller lengths, for fabrication.  Since the bundles might be fifty to a hundred pieces, each actual cut time could be ten to fifteen minutes.

During these un-busy periods, the company urged him to go through the storage area, spreading rat poison, and baiting and checking 15 or 20 big wooden rat traps.  He once proudly told me that he was the company ‘Rattenfanger,’ another German word for rat catcher.

After having to do this task twice, as a home project, https://archonsden.wordpress.com/2017/04/26/oh-rats/ .  I wouldn’t want to have to do it again.  I prefer capturing accolades.  Why don’t you stop by again in a couple of days, and bring some with you.  Remember, I prefer the butterscotch flavored ones.  😉